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  1. OUTSIDE Mason’s Office SB 118 He was gone. As if he had other places to be… he was gone. And it felt great. The shooter was gone. Wendy: Oo I’m going to be all right. I think... oO And she had another thought. Oo I wonder if someone is going to get me to sickbay? I have some holes that need filling… oO And another thought. Oo This floor feels so nice. And quiet. I should really be going after him, but I just don’t feel up to the task right now. Besides, he’d just shoot me again. And what am I? I’m not the Black Knight. Bum arm, a bum leg, a bum foot, hole in my chest. oO She lifts the hand of her good arm and feels her chest. Oo Ha! He missed my heart! What a loser! But wow that is a lot of blood. No wonder I’m feeling a little light-headed. oO Wendy: :: musters as much strength as she can to try and speak.:: Ensign Mason? I need a medevac. When you get a second? She was tired, so tired. Oo I need…a nice little nap. Fifteen minutes and I’ll be fine…oO Moments later Ensign Théo Levesqeu rushed towards her, checking for her vital signs. Levesque: ::calling out:: I need help here! His voice did not wake her. But it was not like she could have helped him anyway. If she could have heard him and responded she might have said “Hey! I’m the one who needs help here!” But she was out of consciousness and could not tell him that or anything. She was out. There was nothing. No pain. No thought. But a drum. Beating. A slow steady beat. Sixty beats a minute. Oblivious to the world around her. Dreaming… Body surfing, off Newport, the California coast, coming into shore, the wave bowling her over… On the beach, sand between her toes, running to her spot, where her blanket and beach chair and umbrella and towels are… She grabs her towel and wraps it around her shoulders, which are wet form the ocean. She’s thirsty and looks for the chest with drinks, but doesn’t see it… She’s walking along the sidewalk between the beach and the condos that front the ocean. She has a limp. Her left leg feels weak, and her right foot hurts like she stubbed her big toe. She looks down, and her foot is looks mangled, and she looks away. She takes a breath and looks back, and her foot looks fine. Leg too. And she feels no pain. She thinks Oo That was weird. oO She hears some music playing and thinks it must be coming from one of the condos that face the ocean. Several have windows open, and some have people sitting in chairs on the patios, drinking bottles of their favorite beverages, or eating slices of pizza, all wearing shorts, and barefoot, guys bare-chested, girls wearing bikini tops, everyone happy and smiling between bites of pizza or drinks from their bottled beverages. She picks up some lyrics form a song; she mishears the name in the song. She’s always misheard the name in the song. Always heard it as her name… “Who's trippin' down the streets of the city smilin' at everybody she sees? Who's reachin' out to capture a moment? Everyone knows it's Wendy” She stops and looks around. She’s not at the beach now, the surroundings have changed. She’s at an arena. On the stage. People are cheering loudly, she thinks maybe for her? And then she is crowd surfing. Being carried off the stage, into the crowd… that leads her to...who knows where, who knows where? Mike PNPC Wendy SB 118 OPS Security O239911JM3
  2. ch’Taer: We are locking down the embassy, immediately. Giellun looked up to his colleague and tilted his head to the side in silent inquiry. Surely this was some kind of jest, yes? The security measures that had been instituted were the strictest he had ever seen here…but this new order…something had changed, no doubt. What was he expecting, really? They were dealing with terrorists. That was what Giellun considered those who joined this traitorous Republic. Surely the Praetor would bring them back within the fold – to appeal to what sense of honor they had left. If they had any honor left. Giellun had his doubts. tr’Pardek: Sir? ::brows raising, standing up from his workstation:: What’s happened? ch’Taer: ::frowning:: I don’t know. No one in or out – do you understand me, Errein? It had to be serious if his closest associate, Liahn ch’Taer became a man of few words. Giellun dipped his chin once in crisp acknowledgement. Tr’Pardeck: Of course. ::engaging his personal comm to begin relaying the order to lock the embassy down to his security personnel:: He had been recently assigned here as a military attaché to assist with the coordination and daily operations of Embassy security. Thus far it had been uneventful work, but it had given him a unique opportunity to learn more about the lloann'mhrahel (Federation.) With these sudden orders, Giellun had oodles of questions – but he had neither the luxury (nor the political clout) to obtain any further information in this moment. Footsteps echoed on the polished stone floors and one of the guards he called arrived at the reception area. She looked at him, her expression a question, but he had no answer to give her. She too nodded silently and took her position by the entryway, a disruptor rifle at the ready. Within moments the Romulan Embassy had shuttered itself. It was most unfortunate that in doing so, this building would soon become the tomb of many within its walls. Giellun stood at the console, ensuring that ch’Taer’s orders were executed with upmost speed and efficiency, and his hand hovered over the screen to tap when he felt something wrong. A sudden vibration that set his teeth on edge, and he looked about in a futile attempt to find the source. tr’Pardek: Do you feel—? The embassy guard with him locked her eyes on his with confusion. The vibration suddenly escalated to a jarring lurch as a loud series of explosions rocked the both of them. He reached out and grabbed the stone counter to maintain his balance, drawing his disruptor unconsciously, and his coworker lost her balance and fell as the floor heaved. He scrambled around the counter and reached out to grab her outstretched arm, but a horrible groaning sound set his teeth on edge, and suddenly she was no longer there. Her scream was cut short as she dropped through the disintegrating floor. He scrambled backwards; barely escaping the same fate as she as the floor continued to crumble beneath him. Suddenly dust began to fall on to him and he looked up and watched—in a strangely detached manner—cracks snake up the walls and across the ceiling. tr’Pardek: Oh, Elements… The ceiling collapsed, and he threw his hands up in a futile attempt to protect himself. Something collided with his head, and he knew no more. ((Time Skip?)) Giellun awoke in a shapeless place. It had a strange, dreamlike quality to it, and he looked around, trying to make sense of what was going on. He had been at the Embassy…there had been an explosion… Suddenly there was a woman before him, holding out a rough-hewn clay goblet, her eyes beseeching his with a silent request. He cautiously took the goblet and peered in, but the inside of the vessel was dark, so he could not discern what it was filled with. Woman: ::gesturing to the goblet:: Mon. Mon heh ha-tor. Giellun: I don’t understand. What are you saying? What language are you speaking? The colors in his dream were quickly fading; everything was taking on a pale, lifeless tone…everything except her. Woman: ::intensely:: Mon! Kal-tor nash-veh svi'! Her hands reached out and situated themselves over his which held the goblet, and she gently tipped it up. Did she want him to drink? Woman: Ha! ::looking thoughtful – then in accented Rihannsu:: Daie! <<Yes>> Giellun considered this to be a most strange dream but figured it would do no harm to comply and tipped the clay container back the rest of the way to his mouth and drank deeply of whatever it held. A single swallow. A feeling of slight…disappointment. It was just water. oO Unfortunate…I would have much rathered naraht… Oo <<naraht – Rihannsu wine (more potent than ale>> Woman: Not water. Life. Drink! She stared at him, and he shuddered uncontrollably as her eyes bored into his, and he felt…compelled to do as she asked. Was this the hallucination of a dying brain? Why would he see a strange woman and not those who went before him if that were the case? Woman: You think to much…wasting time…drink. Please… He brought the goblet to his lips again and opened his mouth to swallow another mouthful but this time, once he started, he could not stop. The woman watched silently as he drank, her hands still on top of his – and part of him realized this strange vision was his brain’s way of trying to make sense of what he was experiencing. Just what by the Elements was he experiencing?! Woman: Enough. Stop. But Giellun did not stop. It was refreshing, vitally so! With every pull, the colors became more vibrant, he felt more…alive. Woman: ::her voice taking on an alarmed tone:: Please, you must stop— But he did not. He could not. He was just so…thirsty! He drank until the goblet was empty and it fell out of his grasp, suddenly no longer important. The sound of the earthenware vessel shattering on the stones beneath his feet broke the ‘spell’ of whatever this was. -- He groaned and opened his eyes, confused by his surroundings. Where was he? This wasn’t the Embassy…he struggled to sit up and found his movement was being curtailed. Medic: Hey there…let’s ahh…stay calm. Uh…He’s coming around, we’ve got to get him re-sedated! There was a flurry of movement, voices calling out with an earnest intensity – they were fighting him…stopping him… Giellun: ::in Rihannsu:: Vikra aihr susse? ::fighting arms that were pinning him:: VIKRA AIHR SUSSE?! <<Where is she?; WHERE IS SHE?!>> There was a hissing sound and pressure at his neck and suddenly a strange lassitude swept over him. He kept fighting but less was making sense—if anything made sense before the strange noise—and finally his eyes shut again as the cocktail of medication overrode everything else. TBC… -- NPC Errein Giellun i’Ki Baratan tr’Pardek Romulan Embassy Military Attaché (Free State)
  3. ((OOC: Remember Barlowe? If not, here you go: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-ops/c/71AO6MJkT-4/m/guejBiH3BAAJ Big thank you to Solaris McLaren for being willing to write Barlowe! )) ((Almost forgotten detainment cells, Miranda VII)) It was dangerous, and if she were to ask Alasafor, he would likely call her endeavour unnecessarily risky. But even if the opportunity had been there, Nestira wouldn’t have asked him - as a matter of fact, she had kept her decision hidden once she had made it, and she was fully aware that she would have to deal with the consequences herself. But how could she not investigate? The Rodulan had learned that Terra Prime had been able to catch someone they believed to be Starfleet. That not only made them a colleague, but likely an integral part of the network that relayed the gathered intel on Terra Prime to Starbase 118. If this network was compromised, Nestira would have to know. There was no use in providing reports that never made it to their destination, and it would explain why Taybrim hadn’t taken action when an escalation of the situation was so… imminent. As she approached the cell, Nestira wondered why no guards stood ready. Not even the door was locked. Quietly, she stepped into the small room… Pain. That was the word that currently described Richard Barlowe's world. Mostly in his head, but the rest of his body wasn't without it either. He wasn't sure where it had all gone wrong. After he had met with their undercover, he himself had gone ahead to Miranda VII to set up a system for getting their reports back to 118, and it had worked for a bit, but on his way to retrieve a report, Terra Prime had descended upon him and whisked him off to a dank cell in some undisclosed part of the station. It was there that the longest couple of weeks of his life had begun. Of course he told them nothing, which had resulted in beatings, and eventually some more serious mutilations. Even though his head was bandaged and he couldn't see through them he was short at least one eye, and possibly both of them. That in addition to the bruised ribs and what he was sure was a broken arm. However just because he couldn't see, that didnt mean he couldn't hear. So when the door to his cell opened his head turned to face it. Someone had come to see him. Barlowe: Come back for some more have you? I've already told you I don't know anything. Before Nestira responded, she allowed herself a moment to look at what was left of the man in front of her. To briefly and rationally assess the injuries he had sustained. To make a first decision on what the best course of action was. Aristren: So you have said. That voice. He recognized it, and he knew it shouldn't have been anywhere near him. Barlowe: Oh someone else come to try and get information that doesn't exist? oO What are you doing here? Oo It took her a moment to connect the voice to a face and to a name - Richard Barlowe, one of the two Intel officers who had recruited her for this mission. Or rather, the man who had been sent to communicate orders that had come from someone else, perhaps the recently returned McLaren. Nestira hadn’t known that he was her contact while on Miranda VII - she had been kept in the dark as much as possible for the protection of the established network, but evidently it hadn’t served Barlowe well. Aristren: This is… going to be unpleasant. Which carried a double meaning. Alasafor was Rodulan, and communication between both of them was easy. It wasn’t without strain, but that slight exhaustion was nothing compared to what it was like to connect to someone who was entirely human and entirely non-telepathic. Over the decades she had, perhaps, learned to make her intrusions less painful, but she lacked the older Rodulan’s experience and skill to make it truly painless. Barlowe groaned as he shifted, cradling his arm tenderly. Barlowe: Or maybe you've just come to laugh, is that it? oO You shouldn't be here... Oo Aristren: I heard that they had caught a Starfleet Officer. I was interested to see if they were right. ~ I apologise for the discomfort. It has been a taxing set of weeks. ~ She approached, maintaining watch of her surroundings. It wouldn’t serve either of them for her to get caught because she was careless. Barlowe: Do I look like a Starfleet Officer? oO Probably not more taxing than mine… Oo Aristren: You do not look like a Starfleet spy to me. ::she paused, allowing his mind to switch between spoken and telepathic communication, then voiced the concern that had brought her here. ~ Since when are you here? ~ Had any of the information she had provided made it to Starbase 118? Was Taybrim informed of the impending execution of the plan that would cost the lives of thousands? Barlowe: That's what I've been telling them… oO I arrived shortly before you did. Oo Aristren: And you maintain that you do not know anything? ::pause:: ~ What information have you disclosed? I will not judge, but I need to know. ~ Barlowe: Nothing. oO You think I would look like this if I had disclosed anything? Oo She shook her head slowly, approaching further. Eventually she knelt down next to him. Proximity would make things easier. Hopefully. Barlowe shifted slightly again. The discomfort he was experiencing because of Nestira’s telepathy was nothing to what he had already been through, but that didn't make it less uncomfortable. Barlowe: This is what Terra Prime does to those they suspect. oO Your reports haven't been getting out to 118 for a while now. Oo Aristren: ~ I have feared this. ~ As they should. ::pause:: As we should. If you are truly with us, you would want the same treatment for those who would harm us. Barlowe: I don't know what I did to deserve this. oO I don't know who set up this operation… but it's been wrong since the beginning. Oo It was a thought that had crossed Nestira’s mind before. She had already switched to Counselling when she was assigned to Miranda VII, and even while being part of Intel she had never been sent into an undercover operation. Because she wasn’t a good choice for it. While a Bajoran with some cosmetic adjustments could easily pass as a Human, the Rodulan brain structure was distinctly different. A scan with a somewhat up-to-date medical tricorder would easily unmask her. Aristren: Neither do I. ~ What do we do? How do we solve this? ~ He fell silent, the telepathy taxing him more. Barlowe: oO Keep gathering information. Find a way to get it out if you can… but be careful who you trust. Stay low and you might survive… even if I don’t. Oo She gave a slow nod, and for a moment, she too fell silent. Aristren: ~ How much longer can you hold on? ~ Nestira did not know how to get Barlowe out of this cell, let alone the medical care he needed. And if Taybrim wasn’t informed of what was happening here, rescue could come in minutes, hours, days, weeks or months. Or not at all. He grimaced, slumping against the wall of the cell. Barlowe: oO Not much longer. Not long enough to wait for rescue… Oo She offered a sad smile, understanding what he meant. Aristren: ~ I understand. But death is final. Your story ends, and all that potential you have is lost. There will never again be someone that is you. You are not replaceable. But you have a right to… dignity. ~ Going out on his own terms, as much as it was possible. To regain some control. To not leave this realm scared, alone and in pain. But she did not want to make this decision for him. Richard turned his head to face her. He couldn't look at her, and yet he was looking right at her. Barlowe: oO I want this to end… I’m tired. Oo It was a request as much as it was a statement. Aristren: ~ I can help. ~ Barlowe: oO Then please… do so. Oo Nestira nodded, reaching for the hypospray Katalina had given her. It was an old model, reused beyond recommendation, and definitely not Starfleet issue. It lacked the safeties that were the norm by now. The medication was released into the air with a hiss, and opening the applicator filled it with air instead. Aristren: I have to inject this. Don’t worry, it … won’t hurt much. Barlowe inclined his head, and his hand reached for Nestira. They barely knew each other, but in their final moment, no one wanted to be alone. She sat down next to him, offering the physical contact that would give him comfort. Aristren: ::whispering:: Safe travels, Richard. She placed the hypospray against his neck, injecting the stream of air into the carotid artery. A few moments later, what was left of Richard Barlowe was an empty husk. TBC... Lt. J.G. Nestira Aristren Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4 and Richard Barlowe Simmed by Lt. Commander Solaris McLaren Mission Specialist (Intel) Starbase 118 Ops C239210SM0
  4. @Doz Finch - what a masterpiece! I love this introduction to your MSNPC. The details, the tone/setting of the scene. Your writing style is exquisite, and I'm here for it. Well done!!
  5. (( Interior, Corridor, Deck 3, USS Arrow, approximately 2 hours later )) The ship was a flurry of activity, much of it routine. As the Arrow traveled at low warp to a destination yet unknown to him, Nolen approached his own destination: his quarters, tucked among those of every other junior officer on the ship. Relieved of his duties on the Bridge, Ensign Hobart walked zombie-like from the turbo-lift as a chorus of vague, indecipherable whispers chewed at his mind, and a swelling sea of mental trauma threatened to drown his sanity. He came to the door of his quarters, indistinguishable from every other door on that stretch of hallway, but for the display plate above the door controls. Placing a fingertip on the otherwise featureless lit contact, he paused for a moment to peer up and down the corridor. Hobart: ::through a sigh:: Okay. Stepping inside, Nolen looked around his room. An interior cabin, there was no viewport to the stars he knew to be whizzing and curving past the ship in its warp bubble. His eyes finally landed on his duffel bag, left unceremoniously on the foot of his bed. His thoughts turned to the task of unpacking, but just then a sharp, fiery hot stab of hatred made itself known, leaping out of the morass of emotions from the cargo back a few dozen meters aft. In response, Nolen's mind instinctively conjured up fear, and then changed tack to aimless rage. Having subconsciously settled on "fight" over "flight," he gripped the strap of his duffel and with a hiss launched it across the room, where it connected with the far wall and fell to the floor with a thud. Inhaling deeply, Nolen closed his eyes and nursed his throbbing knuckles. Should have used the other hand. (( Flashback, Stardate 238906.14, Hobart Residence, Relva VIII Mining Colony )) A teenaged Nolen sat on his bed, staring out the window of his bedroom. The stars outside were cold and distant, and the rock face of the barren excuse for a planet was cold and near. His father stood in the doorway, still dressed in his gold-shouldered uniform. N. Hobart: I still don't understand why you didn't stay on Betazed. It was a lie. Nolen understood full well why they didn't. But it was a lie told for a purpose, to draw out a truth. O. Hobart: ::sigh:: It was... not a great place to be. After the Jem'Hadar destroyed the leadership, people started to lose hope. And that's contagious, even for people who can't read minds. Then there were the camps. Even after liberation, all that hurt just kept stewing. Even now, it's not the same as it was. N. Hobart: Yeah, you didn't want to put her through it. ::beat, turning to face his father:: She could be stuck there right now, stewing with a billion other broken people. Instead of just me. Nolen felt his skin getting hotter. He knew his resentment pulsed through the walls, even if his words didn't reach that far. He knew his mother could feel his anger. Heck, she might even be reading his thoughts at that very moment. Serves her right, he thought bitterly. When she had her fits, he felt them. He even dreamt them. There was no escape for him; why should there be for her? Omar Hobart stiffened at his son's words. He locked his pale brown eyes onto Nolen's black pools, his face taught. Nolen knew this look. This was the look he spent the past ten years being afraid of, the look he knew he'd someday have to master, too. This was "Starfleet." But the clenched fist was new. Nolen could practically taste the bitterness nagging at his father, even before the man spoke. O. Hobart: ::measured:: None of us get to choose the life we're given. We don't get to control the things that happen to us. We can't go back and change the past, no matter how much it hurts us today. It's been a lot for you, but it's been a lot for all of us. We didn't choose the War. We didn't choose the Occupation. We didn't choose to give you empathic powers. We chose to come here, away from it all. So that you might stew with just one... ::sneer:: "broken" person, instead of a billion of them. His father sighed, and Nolen felt his own shoulders slump. O. Hobart: I know today was not a good day. And I know you're suffering right along with her. But... ::pause, thoughtfully:: ...have I ever told you what a "Jewish Optimist" is? Nolen shook his head and perked up. So often the Betazoid side of his family dominated his every waking and non-waking moment, he relished the opportunity to connect with his Human side, if only to leave the other behind. (( End Flashback )) Leaving the duffel for a moment, Nolen strode to the replicator on that same wall. Hobart: Computer, ::waiting for the soft chime:: give me the strongest stimulant I'm authorized to replicate. Drink form. Hot. As a steaming mug of Zariphean coffee whirred into existence within the replicator's small alcove, Nolen pulled out the PADD tucked into his uniform's back pocket. Maintenance wouldn't schedule itself. A sweet-sour wave of grief rolled over him, and he tenderly ran his hurt hand through his hair to put himself together as much as he could. He didn't trust his dreams on this ship, not now. Not with two cargo bays packed to the brim with broken people. As his father's words a decade ago echoed in his head, Nolen made for the door and set himself a challenge to stay awake and busy for the remainder of the trip. Hobart: "Somebody who believes things can't possibly get any worse." ::hesitant sip, a look of disgust:: Oy, that's terrible. ::another sip:: Exiting his room, he turned left. It was a straight shot to Main Engineering from here, encircled by both the permanent and makeshift Sickbays, and this drink promised to keep him awake for three days. TBC ——— Ensign Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer USS Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3
  6. Exemplary wibbly wobbly timey wimey simming from @Sal Taybrim! "So what is it?!" 😜 (( Trauma Center Eight, Main Medical Facility, Starbase 118 )) Foster: Come on you bastard, live… The words were gritted through clenched teeth as Wyn Foster tried to use every ounce of his stubbornness and will to ensure his patient would live. And then everything went completely and utterly sideways. Zumagi: Get OUT of MY surgery! He could hear the leonine roar in Zumagi’s tone as the massive Bajoran surged forward and made his body the block in the doorway that separated the assassin from the surgical suite. Wyn pinned his antennae down to the top of his head, drew in another short breath and pushed the energy in the regeneration tool just a little higher. Please just seal this tear. Please let this artery stabilize. Nniol: Get out of my way! Disruptor fire lanced out and he was aware that Ivin pushed forward. Wyn imagined that he had grabbed the assassin’s hand trying to direct the fire away from innocents. Or patients. Or him. He would be a blue stinky liar if he said he wasn’t terrified right now. But terror would have to sit down and shut up for a moment, he had a patient to save. Zumagi: Make me. That’s right, taunt the super dangerous guy. Wyn pushed the oxygen a little higher. He had to get the blood oxygen levels up to a point where he could let the life support take over. So he could stop Praetor’s heart and fix the extensive valve damage. Nniol: damn you… And that’s when something happened. Wyn was focused totally on the very careful process of getting Praetor’s heart to stop without jeopardizing his brain health. But the intonation of the assassin gave him the slightest clue that something was about to go down. Orange disruptor fire lanced out again. This time with Zumagi dodging for his life several shots slipped past his guard and slammed into the back wall of the surgical suite. Wyn’s antennae were ringing and his vision when white for a second. Blinking constantly, as it clearer he could hear the shrill wail of alarms. That last shot cut life support. Prateor, heart stopped, started to plummet into oblivion. Foster: no, no no no no… He started to work, frantically fast, trying every single thing he could think of to preserve this life. Zumagi: Get out of my sight, kasvak. He could hear the meaty thump of a foot onto flesh. The scream. The hatred. The anger. And the Praetor flatlined. Wyn gave a strangled cry. He could try to cryofreeze the body, but that was a last ditch effort. And now there was brain damage. His old nemesis. No one was the same after brain damage. And still he kept trying. Anything, everything to save his patient. And just as he was about to curse in despair, giving up all hope, something happened. There was a static pop. And the entire world turned sideways. Foster: Come on you bastard, live… The words were gritted through clenched teeth as Wyn Foster tried to use every ounce of his stubbornness and will to ensure his patient would live. Wait a second. What in the seven layers of Gret’hor was going on? How was he here again? He looked down. Prateor was alive! And the tear wasn’t fixed yet… Oh crap, fix that tear. Zumagi: Get OUT of MY surgery! He could hear the leonine roar in Zumagi’s tone as the massive Bajoran surged forward and made his body the block in the doorway that separated the assassin from the surgical suite. Oh, gods, he didn’t have much time. Work faster, Wyn! Think faster, Wyn! No, stop. Don’t think about how strange this is or why it[‘s happening. Act. Foster: Somebody cover the door! Before he shoots! Nniol: Get out of my way! The trauma team who wasn’t directly assisting surgery hustled. Someone pulled a laser scalper and pulled the door override panel off. Wyn was glad someone had more technical skills than he had. If a life or death situation came down to Wyn Foster having the engineering knowledge to block a door… they would all die. He slept through Engineering 101. Because he had spent all his nights doubling up on surgical intern work. Which was, incidentally why Praetor wasn’t dead yet. Come on, artery. Close. He would be a blue stinky liar if he said he wasn’t terrified right now. On this second go around the stress had mingled with the terror to make his entire body feel ice cold. Like he had been woken up by getting dumped into a pool of ice water. There was that pins and needles clod shock feeling on his skin. Please let this time be different. Zumagi: Make me. Come on Ivin, don’t die. As the arterial tear closed and the artery held stable, Wyn worked on increasing the oxygen levels in the blood. He wished he could also increase the oxygen levels in his blood. His breath was coming in with short little pants. Nniol: damn you… Oh, gods, here it comes… Orange disruptor fire lanced out again. This time with Zumagi dodging for his life several shots slipped past his guard. And slammed into the closed door. Sparks erupted from the access panel and one of the orderlies shrieked as the surge burned his hands. That was a yelp of pain, but not one of death. Burns could be easily fixed. Praetor was… Alive. Zumagi: Get out of my sight, kasvak. If he was paying attention he could be learning all the fun curse words right now. He was not paying attention. He was monitoring the blood oxygen levels. And… stopping the heart. Life support held strong. Wyn was barely breathing as he started working on the tear in the left atrium. Slowly building up new layers of tissue with biomaterial to patch over and fuse into the existing tissue. The body would heal and recycle the biomatter. And it was… working. The door opened. It was quiet. Well, kinda quiet. A little quiet. There were injured doctors, nurses and orderlies. Ivin was breathing. Big heaving breaths as if he was confused as to what the heck just went on. Wyn tested his voice. It was thin and thready and it sounded like it was ready to crack. Foster: Is that guy gone? Praetor’s not dead, should have been dead, what the hell happened… time is messed up… somebody come help! Zumagi: Wait, he’s fine and alive? That’s a good thing, that’s very good. He was not dead. That was a very good thing. The last thing Wyn needed was an entire Romulan empire wanting to kill him for not saving their Praetor. Foster: Fine? Uh, no. But alive? Yes. Now. I swear he died, then time reversed and this time we didn’t have a disruptor bolt but life support so his blood oxygen is … well… it’s not great but I’ll take it. Oh and I also stopped his heart and I’m working on the atrial damage. You know, add those tiny details at the end. Zumagi: What the hell. You know what, I’m not complaining, I’ll take it. Are you injured? We’ve got a lot more injured now. Dammit! Injured? No. Absolutely emotionally wrung out and exhausted? Yes. He had about two more hours in him before he would completely collapse. There was the boon and the bane of his accelerated Andorian metabolism all in one. Foster: I didn’t take any damage. Some others were caught in the crossfire. Zumagi: Let’s get the Praetor sorted and stable, then we can help the others. Praetor needs to be a priority patient till he’s stable. He tipped his antennae downwards in assent. Foster: You’re right. Release whoever is available on the trauma teams to treat the injured. At the very least they were already in a trauma bay. That was good, right? Zumagi: ? Foster: We’re back where we were before, except the Aorta tear is mended and of I can fix the atrial and myocardial damage then we’ve got a working circulatory system and we can put all efforts into removing any remaining shrapnel and fixing that damage. Zumagi: ? He drew in a sharp breath and considered that. They would, sooner or later, be exhausted – both of them. They needed to get Praetor to a point where the severe damage was treated and the patient was stabilized, allowing another set of surgeons to seek and fix any minor damage. Foster: We need to make sure the lungs are functioning to full capacity so that we keep proper blood oxygenation levels – and remove any of the shrapnel you located as a critical or level 1 damage issue. After that we can check vitals and see if we can pull in backup. Zumagi: ? Foster: You just fought off a rabid assassin. That’s no slouch move. At this point he was working a fairly routine set of movements to mend the deep tear in the heart tissue. With the heart stilled it was almost a soothing job. If life support and vitals stayed steady. Zumagi: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ Lt Commander Shar’Wyn Foster Chief Surgeon StarBase 118 Ops "Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must" ~Julian Beck E239010ST0
  7. Constantly in awe of Jo's ability to set a scene, and how the words just flow so right. I realise it's not a sim with tags, but it is a key mood setting sim, and a fab read. @Jo Marshall Jaress Kel - Shooting the Messenger
  8. Reading @Quentin Collins III's latest brought a big smile to my face. I love seeing a Star Trek character who's as big a Star Trek fan as the rest of us. I never had model spaceships or airplanes hanging from my bedroom ceiling, but I always wished I had. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did.
  9. This sim from @Esa_Darkkdust is a great picture of some of the challenges facing one of the classes of people on the world Lanaxa that the crew has gone to assist. It is very well written and I felt it deserved a mention here. Great job, Esa! (Trigger Warning: Some parts of this might be triggering for some people as it deals with indentured servitude and forced poverty and the issues that arise from that. We hope this won't trigger anyone, but please read with caution.) ============ ((Indentured Servitude Slums, Meranta City, Lanaxa)) A morning mist had fallen on the slopes of the mountain that played home to Meranta City. Few of the residents scurried their way around the streets, making their way into the castle or out into the fields for work. For Jurog, her morning consisted of splitting what little food she had left between those under her care, portioning out more for those that had caught the illness and those that were younger than she. She had only turned seventeen a few weeks ago, finally able to get her own food packages from the stores, but the her parents had gotten sick with the illness, and it wasn't long before they were both gone, chun an taobh thall… To the beyond. Today, however, word from one of the Seirbhiseach who worked in the Talla a 'Bhaile had reached her that the people from the stars were arriving. Eager to be on time, she hurried through her routine, tending to the small ones, who would only go out and cause trouble on the streets the moment she left. Once outside and on her way from the lean-to she called home to the Capitol, Jurog saw a shimmering blue light in the distance and moved closer to investigate. When she saw people where the light once was, she ducked behind one of the buildings. They had just appeared out of thin air! Trembling, she crept closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. She almost jumped out of her skin when one of them spoke to her - it was a voice she recognised. The one that had spoken to her on the video screen! But then, she couldn't be sure. The screen was old and had been repaired by whatever means they'd managed to pull together. Sometimes the voices wouldn't be so good. Levinson: Jurog Ka'ala, I presume? Jurog peered at the figures, squinting almost, her poor eyesight letting her down in this most crucial of moments. Her parents had never been able to afford the corrective procedure, or the fancy eyepieces that the Uasail wore. It wasn’t until she crept a bit closer that their faces began to come into focus. There were two blue ones, both with pointy ears, and four yellow ones. One with spots, two small purple ones, and one with something that looked like a big water wing on his wrist. Inside she giggled. Perhaps he didn't know how to swim? Ka'ala: ::Meekly:: Yes, are you the people from up there? The ones that call on the video screen? Levinson: Indeed. It is good to speak to you face to face, and your agreeing to help is appreciated. T'Prana : Greetings. 101: Hello! 000: Hello… Kiax / McKnight: Responses Jurog shrank away slightly, intimidated by the smartly dressed space travellers. The masks they wore were frightening, like the ones the guards wore when the air grew acrid. They seemed friendly, but their exuberant salutations were not something that she had ever experienced before. She couldn’t help but notice that none of them looked the same, except for the two small ones… Though one of them looked to be more assertive than the other. Ka'ala: Hello… Levinson: Ms. Ka'ala has agreed to assist us with our search for the source of the virus. I believe having a local guide to the area will be beneficial. Jurong nodded, earnestly, strands of her matted hair falling across her face. Ka'ala: A great many of us are sick, and many more are dying… We are desperate. People say you are the ones who stopped the ground shaking. If I can help you, maybe you can help us. 101 & 000: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses Levinson: Could you show us around, perhaps? Knowing where and how the food and water are kept and distributed, as well as knowing the areas where people usually socialise around might help us rule out likely sources and ways of transferring the virus. Ka'ala: I can show you the taigh-stòir bìdh ((food storehouse))… But the guards might turn me away. I have already had my weekly food package… The river is nearby, which is where we get our water. After that I can take you to the square, and the market. Levinson: Response 101 & 000 / T'Prana: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses Jurog smiled weakly, and started leading the group down the hill toward the fields where the Agri-hangars were. They were several, large, dome-roofed buildings that separated the slums from the fields. Each one had two guards with pike-shaped weapons stationed by the entrance - their purpose simply to dissuade any of the Seirbhiseach from breaking in and stealing the produce. The food that they were given was strictly regulated by the Uasail, and only provided to them once a week in a boxed package. As they approached, Jurog slowed slightly, moving closer to the one with the pointed ears. She couldn’t remember her name from the conversation on the video screen, and was too afraid to ask again. Ka’ala: The guards are there to stop us from taking the food. Can you talk to them? They are often unkind to us and I… don’t wish to receive a’ bualadh ((a beating)). Levinson: Response 101 & 000 / T'Prana: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses As the group edged closer, the guard closest to them turned aggressively toward them. The physical bulk of the man was capable of snapping Jurog’s comparatively brittle frame into many pieces if she strayed any closer. She moved closer to the pointy eared one, and the one with the spots. They seemed to be the ones in charge - hopefully they would be the ones to protect her if the guards got angry. Guard 1: Halt. No Seirbhiseach are permitted to enter the taigh-stòir bìdh outside of the harvesting hours. Levinson: Response 101 & 000 / T'Prana: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses Guard 2: And how do we know that you’ll keep your word? That little thief was in here last week, pilfering extra grain for her little band of lowlifes. Jurong shook her head, defiantly. Ka'ala: No. You lie! I was never here! Levinson: Response 101 & 000 / T'Prana: Responses McKnight / Kiax: Responses --- MSNPC Jurog Ka'ala Citizen of Lanaxa Simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Esa Kiax Chief of Operations USS Astraeus A239511ED0
  10. I love that @Trovek and Sydin took a chance on this sim and I think it really paid off and hit a home run! To explain - there is a normal scene going on during on there (with standard tags and narration) where two undercover characters are eavesdropping on the conversations in this sim. So the two active characters are simming the reactions, but this is a marvelous set up for the information coming in. It's a great bit of foreshadowing for our next mission while we're in the thick of our current mission and I love that kind of story building!
  11. These two reluctantly becoming friends-ish has been one of my favorite things to read and write! Really enjoyed this one by @Addison MacKenzie ========================================= (( Room 02-1601 - USS Excalibur-A )) Addison had gone to the replicator and returned with two cups of tea. She extended one to Talos before retaking her seat on the opposite end of the couch. There was something about bonding over shared trauma that few counselors or therapists could penetrate as easily as someone who lived it. MacKenzie: So which moment do you keep reliving? Dakora: There are a couple that keep sticking with me... ::He sighed.:: When they had me strung up on the crane... Vo'kor's guy? Durok? Well, he placed that dagger of his point first right into my sternum. He'd decided that I didn't have the intel he wanted and I felt his muscles tense and start pushing that blade into me. ::Talos shook his head and blinked.:: I knew it was all over. I was dead. I was so certain that I was going to feel the point driving through my skin, up into my chest- but at the last second Vo'kor shows up and tells him to hold off because we might still be useful. ::He directed his gaze towards MacKenzie:: It was close. And when I close my eyes my brain keeps filling in the gory details of what would've happened if he hadn't stopped. Addison was willing to let him talk, but he must have realized he was starting to relive all their favorite moments. Dakora: Uh, how about you? MacKenzie: I go back and forth between the sound of blood pumping through my head while I was being held up by my neck and the look on Vo’Kor’s face when we wiped out the rest of his bridge crew. She offered a slight smile at the sadistic implication. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin. Dakora: Oh, that was great. ::His eyes lit up a little.:: Or when the Commodore said the Excal was coming back online and Vo'kor was all: ::He assumed an inaccurate but comical impression of the Klingon's deep voice::"What, that's impossible! My little nano-bots! Boo-hoo! ::He switched back to his normal voice.:: and I was all like: "Shut up, Captain Asshat!". MacKenzie: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times… And you actually got in my pants – who’d’ve thought?! Dakora: Hey, I pulled those pants off and you know it! I might have to get the replicator pattern from you... with some anti-wedgie modifications. MacKenzie: Perhaps just a size or two bigger, next time… Talos rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand sleepily. Dakora: You know, now that we're out and we didn't die, I do have a confession to make... Her smile dropped and her head cocked. MacKenzie: Well, we nearly died together… He took a deep breath. Dakora: Back on the Daisy; It was a voice print authorization. ::His grin turned positively cheshire.:: You didn't HAVE to say an authorization code at all. I just... you know... thought a little humor would help at the time. He broke out into a small fit of laughter at the revelation. Her lips pursed. MacKenzie: Uh huh. Well, little did we both know how much we’d need a little pick me up over there… Dakora: It is a good password though. Something no one would guess. ::He sipped up the last of his tea.:: I'm gonna use it somewhere in the Intel Department. He set his cup down on the little coffee table and yawned. A silence settled over them, only to be momentarily broken by the intelligence chief. Dakora: I don't know how, but I actually feel better. ::He shrugged.:: Thanks for the talk. And the tea. MacKenzie: I’m glad I could help. He rose and crossed to the door, but stopped right in front of it and glanced back at her. Dakora: And... if you have any trips planned for this shore leave that don't involve going to Risa, I'm respectfully declining now. He offered a mischievous grin, her “clearly fed up with it” voice chasing him out the door. MacKenzie: Good night, Talos! She couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle and shake her head. No, there would be no shore leave in their future. It would soon be on to the next great adventure. But first, bed. End Scene --- Commander Addison MacKenzie, M.D., Ph.D., FASFS First Officer USS Excalibur-A Captains Council Magistrate V239601AM0
  12. I am enjoying watching the character growth and development of Sill-con in this mission! Great work, Ensign, keep it up!
  13. I really love the way Seta Jinean has taken on the recent flood of counseling sessions she's been fielding. Several of us have sought her out, and in a couple cases officers have been "summoned" to the counseling suite for post-incident check-ins. While Seta can be a bit prickly at times (a creative choice I thoroughly enjoy), her care for her patients is evident in the gentle, guiding methodology that would certainly put me (OOC) at ease and provide a non-confrontational, safe environment. The sim linked below is the end of a session with Commander @Addison MacKenzie and encapsulates nicely the sense of healing patients tend to feel by the time they leave the office. https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-excalibur/c/6oH6HOqxYIc/m/9zeBZrQgFwAJ Well done, friends. It's an honor to serve (IC) and write (OOC) with you both.
  14. And the Adventure continues.... ========== (( Ruins of the Replicator of Gen’tronic )) Wyla couldn’t help but look up at the large and imposing, yet impressive structure around them. It was stone, but felt ancient and looked as though it had survived for millennia with, as far as she could tell, not as much deterioration as she would have expected from a structure as old as Nibble has made it out to be. The immense chamber was lined with dozens of alcoves along the left and right walls, the stonework had fine details carved into them and looked eerily beautiful. At the back of the chamber however sat an immense machine? It looked like a machine of metal and stone and crystal. That rose up over ten meters high and took up a twenty meter section of the floor. Sleek, if partially crumbled steps lead up to it. And there in the middle of the device, was a spine shaped piece of what Wyla could only say, looked like armor. Avae: Is…is that? ::She asked weakly from Twibbles back:: The troupe of twibbles approached it, though Ribble, Swibble, and Kwibble’s eyes were on those alcoves while they walked. Nibble: I believe it is! This arcane device is ancient, but should still be functional since that barrier is still working. Pwibble: What barrier? He asked puzzled but Nibble smiled. Nibble: There’s a magical barrier protecting it. I can see it. Give me a moment and you should too. The twibble’s eyes glowed a moment as did her talisman and a few seconds later a glowing barrier shimmered into view. Wyla felt a tingle in her eyes. Nibble must have given them all the same sight she had. Kwibble: How do we get the artifact? They stepped up to the platform to inspect it for a moment, with Nibble in the lead. She studied the barrier for several long moments while the rest of the group waited. Her guardians took up positions around her and warily looked about the dark, ominous chamber. Only Wyla’s diminished light from her medallion offered any illumination beyond the barrier that shielded the artifact from them. Nibble: I think..if we touch these runes here in the right ord…oops. The twibble touched one of them and the room began to rumble. Twibble: Oops? Niibble…what did you do? The adorable twibble spun around and shook her head. Nibble: I didn’t touch any of the runes, I promise, there’s just this weird web… She wiggled and minute, almost imperceptible strands of filament waved like cobwebs. That’s when the chittering started. Click, click clack. Tink, tink, tink tink tink tink. Like the sound of dozens of metal boots on stone echoed through the chamber and everyone seemed to realize the sound was coming from above them and all around them. Wyla slowly turned her head to the side and strained to glance back up at the ceiling while flattened to Twibble’s back. Eyes. Dozens of sharp, red eyes moved like a swarm down the walls. When the first came into view her heart and stomach both sank simultaneously. The eyes were multifaceted and sat atop the sleek, deadly body of an eight legged frame. Ribble & Swibble: Spiders. Why’d it have to be spiders! A loud roar rumbled from Twibble, who sensed the fear in his subordinates. While Twibble hadn’t faced these foes before, he knew that several of those with him had. Twibble: Steaady yourselves. Protect Wylaa! The rally roar of the large lion bolstered the others who gripped their various weapons at the ready. Nibble wasted no time and hurled lightning, orbs of fire and rays of ice at the inbound arachnids. Sadly, the rest had to wait until the arachnids drew closer, which didn’t seem to take long as several just leapt from the walls and landed all around them with metallic clangs. Despite the height, none of the spiders seemed phased and Wyla squeaked in fright as several landed on top of Twibble. She batted at those she could reach while the others scrambled to defends themselves. Twibble raked his claws on those he could reach and flung them several meters away, for them to land with a clatter, only to flip themselves back right side up and chitter towards them again. Ribble: Ee gads, there beeth so many of them! Ribble exclaimed whilst he swung those climbing axes about violently, each swing cleaved through several of the metallic spiders that continued to fall from above them. Kwibble: I hate these spiders! Kwibble and Swibble swapped back and forth between groups of arachnids, their blades cut through them easily enough but made loud clangs. Two dervishes of twibble fury. Ribble caught one spider in mid air as it attempted to fall on him and he tore it in half. Pwibble used his anchor like a bat from a sport that sent many spiders into the air back whence they came with loud thuds and clangs. Libble patched some stings and scratches in Twibble’s hide, and swung her medkit backhanded to knock a spider off of the lion’s rear. Everyone fought so hard, Wyla felt somewhat useless. And there were so many, she wished that they had something to help keep the spiders at bay. Or had more help to get the artifact from the machine while they held them off. The light from her medallion flared and made everyone startle a moment when a sliver of light formed vertically in the air just at the base of the steps. It looked like a tear in the air, but shimmered with a blue light, a familiar blue light. Nibble: Someone’s teleporting in. She warned. Twibble: Greaat, what now? The blue sliver disappeared with a pop and Wyla stared at a quartet of new figures. More Twibbles!!! ‘Ave no fear! The Artificers are ‘ere!’ Four twibbles emerged from the column of blue light before it faded. All in gold uniforms. All with toolkits on their sides, though the one that spoke had a beaten old thermos that hung opposite his toolkit. And he wielded a large cutting tool that sparked at the tip. The one next to him had a big smile and wielded a different tool as a weapon. Wibble: See! I told you I sensed they were in twibble! Then there were the two smaller twibbles standing beside one another. They had artificer devices on their heads and worn around their belts. Each was worn on the opposite side of the other one so while they stood beside each other, they looked symmetrical. Twipple: Oh that’s a lot Mibble: of spiders but Twipple: d..don’t worry we’re Mibble: here to help! The older, scruffier looking twibble with the thermos stepped up and grinned. Dwibble: ‘lright lads. Take those spiders apart! While Wibble ‘an I get that shield down! The quarter rushed into the fray, up the platform to help the others, who cheered with excitement and Wyla couldn’t help but grin a little at the cute new arrivals. The larger of the two immediately moved to study the runes on the machine. Several tense minutes passed, or so she felt, with their group fighting back the spiders. Which seemed fewer in number that descended from above. Maybe there was a limit to how many guardians this place had. She hoped. A loud whirr sounded and they looked back to see the barrier in front of the Spine fade. Which resulted in a chorus of cheers from the twibbles. Dwibble: Told ‘ya. Nothin’ that good ole ingenuity can’t fix! The machine whirred to life, the stone and metal all around them began to glow as light flowed out from the machine into the stone like LEDs in the stonework. It was beautiful. Then she felt it. A tug on her body and a moment later she looked behind her to see a long metallic limb that touched her back. The Spine of Paralysis Removal was held in a limb-like aperture that, once the shield was lowered, moved the spine out of the casing. She felt the metal against her back as the machine clamped the artifact to her back. Wyla gasped and heard the clicking sound of the metal from the spine shaped device as it spread around her. Like links, folding over one after the other to form a suit of armor around her entire body save for her face. It lifted her off Twibbles back and held her aloft in front of the machine. Nibble: The machine has chosen Wyla!!! Nibble exclaimed excitedly and for a moment, everyone seemed to be able to relax. Maybe her hopes had been warranted. She smiled at the twibbles below her, then convulsed. A sharp pain in her back made her cry out. Libble: Oh no, something’s wrong!! I think her body is fighting the artifact. An echo not heard since the first chamber they’d ventured into after the twibbles found her suddenly sounded around them. Showing signs of rejection and vitals are showing a slight drop but are still within normal parameters. She felt her body grow colder and the light from her medallion dimmed significantly. Libble: Hang on Wyla. The alcoves all around them began to glow as her light dimmed and the rumbling of the machine grew louder. Each alcove brightened and a moment later a metallic skeleton, or another metallic spider emerged from every other alcove. A sense of dread fell over the group as they realized where the guardians had come from. Every twibble formed a ring around Wyla while she was held in the air just above them by the machine. Either she would blend with the artifact, or reject it. She only needed time. To be continued….? ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga
  15. ((USS ‘Oumuamua - deck 8 - cargo bay 2)) Rows of round containers stacked upon one another. Several one meter flat boxes piled at least 4 meters high. The young lady, ivory skin a pleasant contrast with black hair piled into a loose bun was clad in the gold of her position. She pulled her tunic down over her rounded hips and grimaced. Losing weight was high on her to-do list but that hadn’t worked out well. She really liked those banana splits the mess hall made for her… every day. Low to no calorie, but she still kept the weight on. Jean stood in the doorway keeping the opening from closing. She silently and slowly slid her phaser from its holster. A simple glance down to check the setting was all she needed. Set at stun, she keyed the control to heavy stun. One never knew what would pop out from between those containers. Her only clue as to why she was here was the vague order to “search number 2, apprehend whoever was there and transport them (or it) to the brig”. According to the tricorder, what she was looking for was four containers away. Slipping along the orderly rows of essential goods, the ensign watched the little red blip. It wasn’t moving. Was that a good thing? Hearing the sliding doors moving when they shouldn’t be, Ensign Bratton’s hearing perked up. She spun around, phaser at the ready. Doors closed, no one visible. A whisper of cloth against cloth was her only warning. A hand came down on her wrist; the phaser clanked against the floor and skittered across the grey decking. Jean’s knee came up quickly, slamming into her opponent’s thigh. Not where she was hoping, but that was where she landed. It was enough to cause the intruder to grunt and lean to the left. The edge of Jean’s hand came up swift and hard against the exposed neck. Her opponent collapsed. Not bothering to ask questions - that would happen once they were in the brig and had more time. Ensign Bratton slapped her comm badge. Bratton: =/\= Two to beam directly to the brig =/\= Brig Officer: =/\= Energising. =/\= ((Deck 7 - Brig)) Jean stared at her adversary. Human, dishwater blond, and cute in a pixie way. Obviously a woman, she wasn’t wearing a uniform but that could be because she was off-duty. Or she shouldn’t be on the ‘Oumuamua in the first place. Bratton: Who are you? The brig attendant had beamed her into the cell behind the force field that would hold her until Jean’s superior arrived. The intruder stood still with no expression. To Bratton’s inexperienced eyes, it looked like she was waiting. She didn’t seem alarmed at her predicament. Nor did she appear nervous. And just as Jean was going to ask another question (that probably would never be answered anyway) the woman was gone. No shimmering beam, no warning. Placing a finger to her lips, the ensign wondered if she should contact the chief - Kessler? Or maybe the XO. This would be his purview. While pondering, the brig officer was making his own report. Brig officer Alton: ::to jean as his fingers sailed over his console:: She stole an engineering toolbox. ::pause:: That could explain why we’re missing one. Jean relaxed, leaning against the brig controls. Shore leave was almost over and they'd be starting a new mission. That was when she could return to her normal activities: relaxing. —————————— Ensign Jean Bratton Security officer Lt. (jg) Toz Medical Officer USS ‘Oumuamua T239811T14
  16. A wonderful and fascinating introduction to a critical side plot - bravo!! ((Medical Facility, Miranda VII)) /// Stardate 2400.02.11 /// Supplies are running low, Moray reports friction in Naystrims ranks. While he is attempting to de-escalate the situation, both Kravis and Bellamy are attempting to push project “El-Nar”. The embargo has caused a delay, but the project is still underway and treated with priority, implying that an escalation within the next few weeks is to be expected. Strict curfew and rationing are still enforced. /// Awaiting orders and urging to act as soon as possible. ‌ An access code and the press of a button sent the message out into the universe, and from here on Nestira Aristren could do nothing else than to naively believe that her contact received it, was able to forward it to Taybrim at Starbase 118, and that the Commodore would take action before it was too late. She was painfully aware of what would happen to her if she got caught, but she banished those thoughts quickly as she sensed Katalina approach her workstation. She needed to remain focussed on what she *could* influenced, not get stuck on matters outside her control. Katalina: Nyra, are you still not done with that file? I would like to get home *before* 2300 hours for a change. Aristren: Sorry. I’m hurrying. The woman sighed in annoyance and turned away from Nestira and the console. She walked to her own desk and began sorting through a number of PADDs that lay strewn across it. Aristren: You can go without me. Katalina: And explain Yavin why you’re late? I don’t think so. Just stop being slow. The Humans voice was harsh and her words not exactly comforting, but over the past weeks Nestira had learned that Katalina simply struggled to permit others to see that she cared about them. Upon her arrival as ‘Nyra’, Doctor Moray had clothed her, fed her, given her work and a place to stay. And then, when her younger brother Yavir had taken a romantic interest to the undercover Rodulan, Katalina had all but adopted her. Not that Nestira was particularly thrilled about any of this, but she could see the purpose it served. As much as Katalina’s poisoned thoughts and her involvement in Project El-Nar strained Nestira’s own mental health, spending so much time with the Doctor allowed her insights in no one else would get. As much as Yavir’s touch disgusted her, the physical closeness allowed him to not only provide Nestira with information, but allowed Nestira to influence his views and opinions when they spoke. Aristren: Done! Katalina offered a somewhat disdainful glance and a ‘then let’s get going’ before leading the way out of the medical facility. ‌ Even before the doors hissed open, Nestira knew which of the guards stood ready to escort them. She knew that one of them was considering to flee Miranda VII with his pregnant wife, while the other was itching for a chance to blow a hole into someone’s head. Luckily both of them were somewhat intimidated by Katalina. Nestira had to admit that part of her was pleased to see how quickly her telepathy had developed in the past weeks alone. As she had once explained to her then-partner Sa’sara, who wasn’t a telepath herself, that it was like looking up into the night sky. With the naked eye, only the biggest, brightest, and closest of stars were visible, and while one acknowledged their existence, one rarely truly looked at them and paid attention to the way they shone. In a usual setting, Nestira would perhaps hear the surface thoughts of those nearby, but chooe to ignore them like conversations not meant for her ears. It was what was considered ‘polite’. But now that her life and the success of her mission depended on actively paying attention, she found that her ‘universe’ was quickly expanding beyond what she could see before - And that was fascinating and empowering and terrifying all at once. Fascinating because she hadn’t thought that she could develop her telepathy into this direction, and how easy it truly was to listen in on the little worries and victories of those around her. Empowering because it made her feel in control. Safe. If someone came for her, she would sense them from miles away. And if she knew their thoughts she knew how to settle their concerns and remain undetected. Terrified because, sometimes, she was almost sure that there was something beyond the minds of the humans around her. Something brighter than anything she had seen before, beautiful and blinding at the same time. Part of her was curious about whatever the thing was- and the rest of her was wondering if the *thing* could see her too. Katalina: You are daydreaming. Aristren: I am. Sorry. Katalina offered one of those rare, almost maternal smiles. Katalina: I know it’s difficult to come to terms with. It’s not supposed to be easy. Nestira nodded slowly. The Doctor was, of course, speaking about project “El-Nar”. Named after a Betazed landmark, the Rodulan assumed that the place held some significance for Naystrim. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that it would mean the death of thousands of civilians aboard Miranda VII, whether they were part of Terra Prime or not. A massacre blamed on Starfleet, and an escape plan for Naystrim and those close to her. That included Katalina and Yavir Moray. And it would include Nestira. Aristren: I know. But Nestira had no intention to let this happen, and she was still coming to terms with not being entirely sure where she would stop in order to protect the innocents Terra Prime would sacrifice. ‌ ‌ The rest of the evening passed quickly. Dinner was sparse as usual - even Naystrim’s closest advisors were not exempt from the rationing - and under the pretext of a headache, Nestira avoided Yavir’s room for tonight. She could hear his dismay concerning the ‘ruined evening’ but credited him for not letting it show as he bid her goodnight. Slowly, the minds around her dimmed, allowing the Rodulan to relax. It wasn’t entirely impossible that someone would take this very moment to figure out that Nestira wasn’t as Human as she claimed to be, but it was very *very* unlikely, and the constant vigilance was beyond draining. It was soothing to close herself off telepathically, to be *alone*, even if it was only for a few moments. But she wasn’t alone. Nestira frowned. She had grown almost familiar with that strange, blinding presence, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t still curious about it. It was tempting to try and figure it out. Which was a bad idea. Retrospectively she wasn’t sure what made her deviate from her usual strategy of ignoring the presence, but that evening she turned towards it instead, tilting her head as she tried to figure out what exactly it was, and settled on the telepathic equivalent of a nudge. What could possibly happen? TBC…. ***************** Lt. J.G. Nestira Aristren Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4
  17. ((Kessler’s Quarters - Deck 4 - USS ‘Oumuamua)) The day seemed to pass by very quickly for Jack and he was looking forward to seeing Krystal and Lilou. The trip from the bridge to his quarters had been un-interrupted but when he arrived at their quarters he discovered both Krystal and Lilou were not there. Glancing around the living area Jack spied a white card folded in half and standing on it’s two ends on the dining table. He stepped over and retrieved the card from the table and opened it. “Taking Lilou to the arboretum to play - Krystal” Jack smiled. He was happy that Krystal and Lilou were getting along so well and that they were actually here for each other. Jack turned and walked over to his favorite chair and unzipping his tunic he slid down into the chair and picked up a PADD out of habit looking for a message from his parents. He paused and almost tossed the PADD across the room for the thought but stopped and leaned forward. He did have a message, but not from his parents. He tapped on the letter and it opened to the screen. He took in a long deep breath and then let it out slowly as he sat back and read the letter. USS Io - Stardate 240001.30 “Hello Jack. I know you are hurting and the lack of response tells me it is worse than you are letting on. Since you have decided to avoid this conversation I am forcing your hand. By the time you get this message I will be arriving on the ‘Oumuamua. See you in a bit. Love Michele” Jack sat up and tapped the message closed. Kessler: Computer (beat) Are there any personnel scheduled to arrive aboard the ‘Oumuamua today? Computer: Affirmative. Kessler: Who is the individual arriving? Computer: 1st Lieutenant Michele Winters Jack’s eyelids slowly closed and he tapped his combadge. Kessler: =/\= Kessler to sickbay. We have a medical officer coming aboard. Can someone meet me in the shuttle bay to welcome the shuttle? =/\= Hunched over his desk reviewing several articles from the starfleet medical database V’Len looked up when his combadge chirped. Kel: =/\= Kel here. I can head down now =/\= Rox: =/\= Is that Jack? Don’t go anywhere off the ship with him. He’s bad luck. I almost turned into a wrinkly space wizard. =/\= Kel: =/\= Thank you Nurse, I think I can handle it. Kel and Rox out. =/\= Kessler: =/\= Thank you. I am headed there now. =/\= Jack stood from his chair and headed out of his quarters rezipping up his tunic. It wasn’t that he was not happy to hear from or even to see Michele. The issue Jack was having was that he had created somewhat of a situation by not responding to any of her communications since his parents ship had been lost. Michele was not one to take no for an answer and she was not one to be ignored. V’Len toyed with the idea of taking Rox with him so she could learn how to properly greet a new member of the crew. Ensign Tyber had not only been tricked into doing Rox’s work, but had also taken an unplanned sim in the Cetacean ops pool. However, V’Len had barely seen Jack during shore leave. Typically, they would have been on the holodeck solving a mystery, but with the attempted murder of Jack, V’Len Nesre and Wes by the EMH and the loss of Jack’s parents, it seemed like the holodeck was off the table this time around. V’Len told Rox to watch the sickbay and then told Toz to watch Rox. ((Main Shuttlebay - Deck 10 - USS ‘Oumuamua)) Jack arrived just outside the main shuttlebay as did his counterpart from sickbay. Smiling he tilted his head towards the main doors and chuckled. Kessler: You’re in for a treat. Kel: Am I? ::looking around in mock nervousness:: Do I need a helmet? Jack smiled and almost laughed. He was not sure how Michele was going to come off that shuttle. If she was concerned he hoped for a warm welcome and things would go smoothly. If she was mad, he might need a security team to help out. Kessler: Let’s just say (beat) I know a little about this officer. Kel: Another relative? ::chuckling, then serious:: Are you and Krystal doing ok? You know if you need anything at all, you can always call on me. The two stepped in and up to the forward safety area. The bay doors were already open, and the vacuum of space kept out by the forcefield that would allow the shuttle to enter and land while the two waited. The shuttle was visible from outside as it approached and Jack’s anticipation grew. He felt his heart rate quicked, fear or nerves, he was not sure but the sensation of excitement also back filled the feelings he was having. V’Len waited and glanced over at Jack. He seemed somehow apprehensive and V’Len wondered who really was in that shuttle. Perhaps it was another of Jack’s relations after all. The type-14 shuttle entered the bay and slowly came down to the deck with a light thud. The boarding ramp lowered at the rear and Jack led the way towards the rear of the shuttle with V’Len in tow. Jack halted his approach as Michele exited the shuttle and stepped around to face Jack and his companion. His eyes locked with hers and for a moment so many questions seemed to bounce back and forth between them silently. V’Len glanced between the pair. He was clearly missing some context, but it was clear that this woman was more than just an acquaintance or someone Jack had met at the academy. Kessler: (slightly smiling) This is an ambush. The five foot, four inch tall human female smiled a deviant smile and lowered her gear to the deck and then stepped up to Jack, brushing her dirty blond hair back past her ears she placed both hands on Jack's head. One on either side of his temples and stood to her toes, pulling his face closer to hers until their lips almost met, then pausing with a tease she lowered herself back down to her heels. There was nothing more in her heart than love for this man but he had been avoiding her since his parents disappearance. He needed rescuing and this was why she was here. Jack’s heart leapt to his throat as she grabbed his head and pulled him down towards her as she stood on her toes to meet him. Her slim frame had remained the same in the year plus since they had last seen each other and his gaze fell into her green eyes. She knew how to completely take him off his feet in one movement and yet she paused just as their lips were about to touch, held for a breathless second and then slowly leaned back and away. Jack did not know what to feel at this exact moment but he knew that he wanted to kiss her and then throw her back on the shuttle before things became more complicated. V’Len raised his eyebrows. He was glad he had left Rox behind. Whatever was going on between Jack and this new officer V’Len was apparently being given a front row seat. Winters: It’s good to see you too Jack. (turning to the other officer standing beside Jack and holding out a hand to shake) Michele Winters. Kel: Ah yes (shaking the woman’s hand) Lt. V’Len Kel, I’m the Oumuamua’s chief medical officer. Winters: (smiling gracefully at Kel) Yes you are. Andorian and Trill. An extremely rare combination, of course if I read your bio correctly (beat) yours was via a transporter accident. An amazing story, I do hope we can talk about it sometime? (beat) From a medical standpoint of course. On the one hand it would save V’Len a lot of time explaining what happened, on the other hand it meant he needed to find something else to talk to the new lieutenant about. He suspected she was not going to be entranced by fungus quite the way Salo always seemed to be. Kessler: (looking between the two and finally resting back on Michele’s eyes) We need to talk about this visit. V’Len struggled to think of something to ask besides the obvious “how exactly do you and Jack know each other”? Were they a couple, engaged, married? V’Len had never heard Jack talk about a wife, not that Kel made a habit of talking about his personal life. He looked back at Michelle Winters. She wore a green shouldered uniform, so she was a marine of some sort apparently. Kel: So Lieutenant Winters, you’re a new addition to our marine contingent then? Kessler: (to V’Len) No, she’s just visiting for a little while. V’Len was surprised to see Jack scramble to collect Winters’ gear as they began to cross the shuttlebay. Winters: (brow furrowed) Not visiting Jack. (to V’Len) I have officially transferred to the ‘Oumuamua. I am a Combat Medic. Graduated Starfleet Academy with Jack and am a fully trained nurse as well as a trained Marine. (glancing back to Jack and smiling) We will remember that won’t we? V’Len was always glad for more help in the sickbay. Jack on the other hand seemed somehow less enthused. Michele walked past Jack who had as he always done grabbed her bag for her. His father had trained him well and Michele admired that in him even if he was not happy to see her. Of course this was his doing but she knew how much he internalized things and getting him to talk was something she had experience with. Kel: Well, all I can say is thank goodness. I often end up following Colonel Greaves into risky situations. He’ll have someone more qualified to assist him than a bumbling doctor who likes to study fungus. ::Chuckling:: Winters: Let’s not go racing into danger here doctor. I would prefer to get settled into Sickbay before having to patch anyone up in the field. Jack felt speechless and for the moment V’Len was taking the heat off of him. That at least gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and then pursue the two as they departed the shuttle bay. Kessler: Ok, so you are here for more than a visit. We still need to talk about this Michele. They exited into the corridor and the door to the shuttlebay hissed shut behind them. Jack smiled to himself as Michele continued walking alongside V’Len. She was totally ignoring him now. He wanted to laugh, he had just missed a kiss and had been demoted to bag boy all in less than five minutes. Kel: Well welcome, officially to the Oumuamau. I’m not sure where you’re heading off to, but I’d be happy to show you our sickbay. I’ve worked to make it an excellent facility. My colleague Dr. Toz is an amazing physician and our nursing staff (pause) well they’re mostly sane. Winters:(with a smile and a tilt of the head) Why thank you Doctor. I’m glad someone is happy I am here. Kessler: I never said I wasn't happy to see you. Jack might as well have been talking to the bulkhead. She had totally turned on the cold shoulder routine and now he was going to have to work to get her to respond. Oh he hated it when she did this, not because she knew she could torture him but because she was so good at it. Michele heard Jack but did not glance back or respond. He had avoided her and made her change duty posts just to get to talk to him. She knew what they had agreed to and why he wanted to talk about this transfer but she wasn’t going to change her mind. Not now, not after everything that had happened to him. Kel: At the risk of sounding indelicate, how exactly are Mr. Kessler and yourself acquainted? ::gesturing toward Jack:: Michele looked up at the Trilldorian and smiled and then allowed a disappointed look to cross her face. Had Jack really not mentioned her to anyone or maybe the Doctor just wasn’t close to Jack. Well, this was time for a change and Jack needed to come out of his shell. Winters: (smiling) Well, I can see that nearly three years of dating didn’t earn a mention to your crewmates Jack? And here I thought I was the one to melt your heart (grasping her chest with both hands in a dramatic tone) Well, maybe there’s another girl out here who has your attention? Michele smiled devilishly and looked over to the Doctor. V’Len for his part was beginning to understand the terms “third wheel” and “stepped in it”. Jack had never mentioned Michelle to him though V’Len regarded him as a close friend. The two options before him were that Jack did not regard him as closely or that things between Michelle and Jack were complicated. Given all the evidence V’Len tended to believe the latter rather than the former. Winters: So does he have a girlfriend aboard I should be jealous over? (smirking and almost laughing) They continued their journey through the Oumuamua. Entering the turbolift V’Len headed for deck 7 almost without thinking. Perhaps he subconsciously wanted to get back to the safety of his sickbay. In any event Michele’s question was not one V’Len wanted to answer. He was reluctant to bring up Jack’s relationship with Nesre. Firstly because he was not sure how Michele would react. Secondly because, after their dinner on Seytoxal, V’Len could not seem to get Nesre out of his mind. It had been difficult before, it was near impossible now. He decided to punt. Kel: Jack and the ladies. It's a legend that tells itself. Just ask the Delaney sisters. Jack threw a look at his friend. What was he saying? Not the best of ideas V’Len buddy. Kel: ::seeing Jack’s look, raising hands:: Kidding, of course. (beat) When I first met Jack I thought he was part of some celibate religious order. Kessler: Ok, ok. Enough is enough. (beat) V’Len, we were very serious towards one another but we both had career goals and knew post graduation that those career goals and a relationship was not going to work as we might like. Jack paused and turned to face both of them. Kessler: I think maybe she should report to Greaves and let him know she is aboard. It was more of a question to change the direction of the conversation away from the two of them. Although it seemed V’Len was enjoying himself in this conversation a little more than Jack would like. Winters: Nonsense Jack. I don't have to check in with the Colonel until 2100 hours. He’s in a meeting and I certainly do not want to interrupt that. The doors of the turbolift opened. Kel: I seem to have brought us to deck 7. This is where you’ll find sickbay. Gator deck, where our marines reside, is on Deck 4. There are no actual gators of course. ::nervous chuckle:: Michele shot the Trilldorian a smile at the joke and winked as she then looked back to Jack who stood quietly, reserving his comments. Winters: Oh there are plenty of Gators on that deck Doctor. Isn’t that right Jack? Jack found himself holding back. He did not want to get into a discussion here, in front of V’Len. Although his friend would probably find it humorous as Jack never found himself on the winning end of a conversation with Michele when she put her feet down. She came from a family of very strong willed individuals and having met her brother and sister knew why she did not back down and why she was who she was. In many ways Michele was the first person that he could say he truly loved but at the same time they had an agreement about their relationship and their careers. She had clearly violated that agreement and this needed to be dealt with but again Jack did not see the need to have it discussed in front of V’Len. Kessler: ::smiling at V’Len:: And they all have teeth buddy. ::looking back to Michele:: and claws. Michele grinned knowing Jack was prodding but she too had taught him this game and was ready to play. V’Len spoke next and made a suggestion but it did not play into her next move with Jack. Kel: I mean the sickbay is just around the corner if you’re interested. Winters: ::looking back to V’Len:: I am sure I will be spending more than enough time there. How about somewhere a little more fun? Kessler: ::looking to V’Len:: Don’t look at me buddy. I’m just the bag boy today. There was really only one place V’Len could think of, but Jack seemed keen to extricate himself from the bags and Michele. V’Len decided not to allow this to happen, he wanted to see how this played out. Kel: We could grab a drink in 7-Forward. (beat) You two could get a drink in 7-Forward. oO Did he really suggest that? Oo Jack knew V’Len had to have been holding back a laugh by the look on his face as he reacted to the look coming from Jack. He should have known V’Len was going to try and enjoy as much of this as he could. Winters: Sounds perfect ::looking at Jack and then back to V’Len:: and of course you should join us. I doubt he is going to talk much right now anyways. She shot Jack a grin that told him she was very much enjoying this little torture episode and she was not lettign him off the hook. All Jack wanted to do at that moment was simply lean in and kiss her, take her off her agenda and throw a monkey wrench into her little scheme but that would be giving in to her and right now he was not too happy with her. Kessler: 7-Forward is this way ::gesturing:: I could use a drink. Jack tossed her duffle up on his shoulder and walked past both V’Len and Michele leading the way to the forward lounge and letting them follow behind. They could enjoy their teasing at his expense together. He could wait out her game, he knew he had more patience than she did plus he knew exactly how to throw her off her game once they got to 7-Forward. They ordered refreshments and found a table along the wall. V’Len took a seat facing out into the room, while Jack and Michele sat at triangle points facing the wall. Kel: So, Lt. Winters, what’s your family like? You remind me a bit of my younger sister Rosro, so I’m guessing you’re not an only child. Rosro, V’Len’s younger sister, had always been tenacious. While she hadn’t quite settled on a course of study, Rosro was taking the Academy head on. She was strong willed and firm once she set her mind on a goal, much like Michele seemed to be. At this point Michele’s goal seemed to be Jack. Winters: Two other siblings, an older brother and a younger sister. ::beat:: You learn how to defend yourself when you are the middle child. The fact that Michelle was a middle child went a long way to explain many things that V’Len had observed about her. Kel: Indeed, and where did you say you grew up? Winters: I grew up in Austin, Texas on Earth but actually spent most of my time just outside Austin on my family's horse ranch. Kessler: ::looking from Michele to V’Len:: They own and run the largest equestrian ranch in North America. It’s actually very beautiful and they have some magnificent horses. V’Len paid no attention to the answer as he suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine. Across 7-Forward, Hurricane Rox coming toward them. In her hand she held her signature “blue squale” concoction. She was walking quickly toward them wearing a broad smile. V’Len tried not to change his facial expression and reveal how much danger he and Jack could potentially be in. By his reckoning Michele and Rox were fairly similar. If they got along Jack and V’len would be in deep trouble. If they did not get along…they could mutually annihilate each other, likely taking the ship with them. Rox: Eh,what’s up Doc? V’Len looked down and rubbed his forehead. They’d talked about this so many times. Jack had not noticed Rox’s approach but the look on V’Lens face was ever so priceless. Rox had that way with many people. You either loved her or she was all over your nerves. Jack found Rox a commercial relief and enjoyed her presence although there were times, such as now, that her presence might be a little more disruptive than fun. Rox: ::patting Jack on the head:: Hey Jackie! ::looking at Winters:; Hey new girl. I’m Rox, one of the nurses. ::glancing at Jack:: Don’t let this guy take you on any dates. Last time we went out he crashed us on an alien planet and I nearly got turned into a space frog. V’Len tried not to chuckle at Jack’s very flush face. It seemed that Rox had mischaracterized whatever had happened. Kessler: ::holding up a hand:: Wait, wait, that was not a date. Winters: ::eyeing Jack suspiciously:: Really? ::she drew the word out and in a questioning tone:: Rox: :: winking at Jack:: Sure keep telling yourself that. ::pulling up a stool to sit between Jack and Michele:: So what’s your story, new girl? New member of Greave’s angels? V’Len threw a panicked glance at Jack who seemed to be like him trapped. Jack merely smiled, a devilishly wicked smile back at V’Len and sat back. Titling up his drink he took a long draw of the Samarian Sunset. Kessler: Rox ::gesturing to Michele:: this is Michele Winters. ::beat:: Michele, this is Rox, one of the ship's nurses. Winters: ::extending a hand to Rox:: Happy to meet you. I am not sure I am an angel but I am a Combat Medic so I’ll be seeing you a lot in sickbay from the sounds of it. ::she threw a wicked fun grin to Rox and then one at Jack:: Rox: How fun we can be sisters in science! ::turning to V’Len:: You’re going to outnumbered sir. Jack did not know if she should be afraid for his friend or simply happy that he did not have to spend as much time in the same room as V’Len was going to have to deal with. Kel: I was already outnumbered. ::sigh:: Kessler: ::winking at V’Len:: You could just assign them to Charlie shift. Kel: ::quietly:: Tempting. Michele smiled, pressing her lips together and without moving her torso, reached her leg out under the table and kicked Jack in the shin. She must have nailed the perfect spot as he jerked back and almost poured his drink on himself. Winters: Guys vs girls? Really, Jackie? ::she used Rox’s pet name for Jack and then looked from Jack to V’Len to rox:: So Rox, tell me about this date? ::beat:: Does he take many girls off ship to strange new worlds? Rox: ::pouting and feigning hurt:: I thought…I thought I was the only one. Jack threw both hands up and looked between the two women. Kessler: It was not a date. There were others there too. ::beat:: Not a date. Winters: ::still smirking at his sudden defense:: What’s wrong Jack? She looks and sounds like your type. Now she was just baiting him and Jack threw a look to V’Len that might have very well yelled run. Michele and Rox were more likely to hit it off and be friends than mortal enemies which for Jack could have been useful. Rox for her part very much liked Michele. She stood up and waved wildly at Koryan to get his attention. She pointed at her half empty glass and then made a “V” with her fingers. Rox: You have to try one of these, they're my favorite. Kel: :: looking at Jack, concerned:: I think we have a problem. Kessler: ::looking at V'Len and shaking his head:: I think we’re both outnumbered. Winters: ::smiling and then drinking down the last swallow off her glass of Oberon:: Of course you are and the sooner you surrender, the easier your lives will be. ::leaning back in her chair and looking out the forward windows at the planet below:: Do they have horses down there? Kel: I’m not sure, I just went down to the mountains to practice a hobby of mine. Rox: What hobby? You don’t have any hobbies, unless you were collecting fungus. V’Len decided not to respond and was grateful when Jack spoke up. Kessler: After my last excursion ::beat:: I am not leaving the ship anytime soon. The last trip off the ship had seen Rox almost turned into a rainbow colored oompa loompa, accompanied by dart slinging primates and a temporal something or other that he still had not figured out was more than enough to keep him aboard the ship for a while. Michele on the other hand was still playing with Jack and now that Rox was here, the two of them seemed all too willing to tag team on both him and V’Len. Winters: ::to Rox while grinning at V’Len:: So does the Doctor here and Jack have their own boys club? Seems like they are better friends than they are letting onto. The waiter arrived with two tall glasses of blue liquid, each with a small shot glass of brown liquid floating on the surface. The waiter gracefully slid the try onto the table, looked to each patron, and beat a hasty retreat. Rox: They spend a lot of time in the holodeck together. Not sure what’s going on there. Kel: ::exasperated:: We’re solving mysteries. I told you that. Winters: ::smiling and throwing looks between V’Len and Jack:: A boys holodeck mystery club, interesting. ::she drew that last word out implying suspicion:: Jack grinned at Michele and Rox. They were having fun and as much as Jack hated the idea of Michele being assigned to the ‘Oumuamua he enjoyed seeing her and seeing her happy. Kessler: ::grinning and shaking his head:: We solve mysteries, ::beat:: it’s not a mystery club. Rox: What you guys do in your freetime is none of my business. ::gesturing at the drinks:: Try this new girl. It’s my own invention, Romulan Ale, Andorian Ale and syrup of squill. The shot is Saurian brandy. I call it a blue squale with a rowboat. Winters: ::reaching for the glass:: That sounds like a fun drink. Kessler: ::looking to V’Len and simply shaking his head and smiling:: V’Len watched in fascination as both women took long drinks and then sat the glasses down on the table with a snap. Rox: Good right? You should try one V’Len. Winters: ::setting the glass down and looking at Rox, making an O expression with her lips:: That is devine. A wonderful balance too. ::looking to Jack:: Have you tried this? Kessler: No ::holding up his dram:: I like this. Michele eyed Jack and narrowed her eyebrows at him. He was someone who didn’t always like trying new things but she had broken that shell once and would break it again. Before she could start in on Jack though V’Len spoke up. Kel: I don’t drink Saurnian Brandy. Rox: That’s right, ::smiling at Michele:; There was an incident at the academy. Something with noodles right? Kel: ::moodily:: There was NO incident and we’re changing the subject. ::Turning to Jack:: That guy you brought back from your date with Rox is recovering nicely. Winters: ::smiling at Rox:: Noodles? Oh, I have to hear about this. Kessler: ::looking away from the girls:: Any new information on what happened? A mischievous smile began to fill Rox’s face. V’Len was immediately concerned. Jack noticed the look on V’Len’s face just as Rox’s voice rose up in excitement. Rox: Come with me, new girl. Jack grab her things. Rox rose and began to head out of seven forward. V’Len, feeling a bit sorry for Jack, picked up a few of Michele’s items. They were heavier than V’Len would have expected. Perhaps Michele had a brick collection she’d brought along. They made their way down the corridor and back into the turbolift, taking it down to deck 9j and cargo bay area. The group soon found themselves in a quiet area of the deck near cargo bay 3. ((Outside Cargo Bay 3, Deck 9, USS Oumuamua)) Kel: Why are we here? Rox: To make sure people remember us. Winters: This sounds fun. Michele shot a look over to Rox and then to Jack who looked a bit confused as to why they had come down to the cargo bay. Michele had no clue herself but this Rox seemed to enjoy having fun and even poking jabs at Jack and he didn’t bite back. Jack must consider her a friend since he played along with her suggestions. He had always been a good sport but some people did get on his nerves and Michele knew a couple back at the academy that had done so. Rox opened the small utility closet near the airlock and handed out the EVA suits. She began putting one on. Winters: Are we going on a walkabout? ::Michele said in her best Australian accent:: Kessler: ::smirking:: Knowing Rox, this is a costume party. Rox: ::teasingly:: Yeah, Jack, we’re getting ready for a costume party. Yes, we’re going outside. Put your suit on. Jack threw a look over to V’Len and then to Rox. It made sense now, and he allowed a smile to crease his lips. Jack had not partaken in this ritual as of yet and had actually dismissed it as something he felt he needed to do. On the other hand this would be fun but Rox was forgetting something very important. V’Len for his part was unsure what to do, but obediently followed the others. He’d not spent a lot of time in EVA situations, but he’d had the training and was confident he would not embarrass himself too badly. Kessler: ::stepping into his suite:: So Rox, how are you bypassing the security lock outs on the airlock? ::beat:: You know that the bridge will be alerted the minute you try to open those doors? Winters: ::looking at the others:: don’t look at me. I am so new here I am sure I am not even in the computer yet with access codes to open that door. Rox smacked her head in mock concern. The last time she had been here Basilla had been with her and had simply overridden the airlock controls. Michele finished securing her EVA suit and waited to secure her helmet in place as the others finished suiting up. Kel: Jack may have a point. I don't think there’s a medical override for the airlock. At least no one that doesn’t let the system know exactly who opened the door. Rox: Oh come on Jack, don’t be silly. The last time I was here Basillia used her security access to override the controls and anonymously opened the airlock. ::gesturing at the door:: Show us your stuff. Jack looked at Rox and shook his head in a manner indicating she would get them busted for sure. He then looked at V’Len and shook his head again in a manner indicating that too was not going to work. Kessler: There are newer protocols in place in the internal sensors that those ideas would trigger. You might be able to get away with them a few months ago but the Colonel had these new protocols instated that prevent those bypasses. ::stepping over to the control interface and pulling the panel open, he removed two isolinear chips and rearranged them:: Now we just need to tell the bridge that this airlock is running a diagnostic mode and sensors are offline. Rox: Show off. Michele watched Jack from behind and listened to his voice. She had missed the sound of his voice more that she had realized and it was refreshing and intoxicating to hear it now, even if they were doing something against the rules. V’Len was impressed at Jack’s quick thinking. He suspected they would need to do a lot of hacking, but instead this seemed like something anyone could do. Winters: How are you going to do that without tipping your hand to the bridge crew? Jack glanced back to Michele and then to the others and smiled. Rox: Who cares as long as he gets it open. Kel: What are we doing once we’re outside again? Kessler: ::tapping a few sequences into the interface:: Like this. Jack tapped the last sequence in and the lights in the room turned red and the “Secured” message that appeared on the control interface disappeared. Smiling and knowing he was not going to give up his secret he lifted his helmet and slid it on over his head and locked it in place. As the others did the same he opened the weapons locker and retrieved and phaser and handed it to Rox. Kessler: I’m assuming you’ll need this to accomplish this next task? ::winking at Rox:: Winters: ::securing her helmet:: Are we going to shoot something? Rox snatched the phaser out of Jack’s hand and brought the visor of her helmet down with a snap. She marched into the airlock and looked back to see that the other followed. Rox: Let’s go people. Michelle, you’re going to love this. The airlock cycle was not slow, but it still took a bit and V’Len found his mind wandering. When Rox mentioned Michele’s name it triggered something inside his mind. Kel: ::singing:: Michelle, ma belle, Sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble, Très bien ensemble. Winter: ::smiling at V’Len and then looking to Jack:: You never sang to me. I think I like this guy. Kessler: Then consider yourself fortunate. Jack was not a person who could carry a tune to save his life and he would not subjugate anyone to that level of torture unless absolutely necessary or insanely intoxicated, which had only happened once. Rox: ::stomping a foot:: V’Len cut that out! V’Len stopped singing immediately. He’d not even noticed that he started, but it was a habit that particularly annoyed Rox. Rox: ::Looking at Michele:: He does that all the time in Sickbay. He thinks he was a musician in a past life. Kel: I WAS a musician in a past life. Remember, ::pointing to his head:: symbiote. Winters: ::looking to V’Len:: That has to be amazing ::Beat:: I mean being able to experience all of those life times. The memories must be incredible. Kessler: ::chuckling:: Were you a detective in one of those past lives? Maybe from Toronto? The airlock cycle could not conclude fast enough and when it finally did Rox hurried out onto the underside of the saucer. Above them, or maybe below, the planet of Sexyatol glowed as the sunset fell on the area below them. Toward the northern part of the hemisphere it appeared that a storm was imminent. Arching lighting could be seen flashing between black clouds. Kel: ::looking up at the sunset and the storm:: That’s something we don’t see everyday. Jack looked away from V’Len and lost his train of thought as he looked at the wondrous sight before them. Kessler: Sure isn’t. ::beat:: It’s mesmerizing isn’t it? Winters: ::turning to Rox:: This was worth the trip out here for sure. This is so beautiful. The others looked up in awe but Rox headed straight for the nearby panel where she and Basillia had come previously. It appeared no one else had visited to add their name. She handed the phaser to Michele and nodded to the panel. Michele looked down and away from the wondrous sight they were viewing which she now guessed was not the reason Rox had brought them outside of the ship. A panel on the ship, worn from time and encounters the ‘Oumuamua had experienced was laden with initials inscribed by others who had come before them. Michele smiled and looked back to Rox. Rox: Ladies first. Winters: ::taking the phaser and slowly engraving her initials:: This should be a tradition on every starfleet vessel. Kessler: ::taking the phaser next, he looked to Michele and smiled:: How do you know it is not? V’Len watched as Michelle and then Jack added their initials. V’Len wondered what to write. Rox had written RQX which was a neat trick to get her last name in there. Kel would be easy enough to write, but then it wasn’t the symbiote that was here, it was him, V’Len the doctor. Maybe he should just put Doctor. Kel: My turn eh? V’Len accepted the phaser from Jack and aimed it at the hull. The V seemed o.k, writing with a phaser was tougher than he expected. He used a dot for the apostrophe for fear it would look like an ‘S’. The rest went reasonably well. Kel: Well, Let’s hope the Zet don’t fire at this exact panel in the future. Winters: Maybe this panel should be preserved during our next resupply? Kessler: ::looking at the panel and then back at the storm and the sunset over the planet:: Take it all in guys. We won’t get to see this again for a long time. Rox: Welcome aboard Michele. You’ve got 2 down on your Oumuamau bingo card and you’ve only been here 2 hours. ****** Lieutenant V’Len Kel Chief Medical Officer USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 He/Him (character and player) & Rox Nurse USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 He/Him (player) She/Her (character) & Lt.jg Jack Kessler Asst. Chief Tactical Officer USS ‘Oumuamua T239901JK1 & 1st. Lt. Michele Winters Combat Medic USS 'Oumuamua T239901JK1
  18. Love the atmospheric vibe, the ambience (the bringing in of midnight, the nostalgia and the stories, with the descriptions and fantastic details, warm light and fireflies). Nicely done! @Alieth & @Quinn Reynolds
  19. Well well well, if it isn't a glorious JP from our resident lovelys @Hiro Jones and @Trovek and Sydin - a great example of counselling on leave
  20. The continuing adventures of Wyla Avae and the Twibbles.... (( Bay of Sickness )) The black sand beaches of the Bay of Sickness seemed to span on forever as the small troupe of theirs traversed it still, Wyla had lost track of any semblance of the passage of time. Since Nibble joined their group, they’d had it a bit easier, despite there being more fights. Almost a dozen since they had first set furry paws onto the beach and more of those formidable skeleton mages had accosted them. Or maybe it was the same one coming back, she couldn’t say for certain. The tallies for Swibble and Ribble was in the hundreds at this point and the two were quietly bickering with one another as they walked, eyes focused on the sands ahead and around them for any signs of movement. Swibble: It doesn’t matter how many zombies were on that walking pile of fish bones. That still only counts as one! Ribble: Methinks thou dost protest much because thou knowest thou art losing! The pair nudged one another, which annoyed Sylara enough to hoot while Pibble kept them on course. She was grateful they were so skilled otherwise she knew they’d have gotten lost a long time ago and that thought terrified her as much as any of the monsters that were trying to get her. Libble now stuck closer to Twibble, who’s massive paws left deep imprints in the soft sand and made the loudest squeaks. Both Twibble and Wyla were looking worse for wear. As everything seemed intent on getting to her, which meant Twibble had been fighting the hardest. Kwibble and Nibble covered their rear, quietly conversing from time to time. Wyla looked the worst of them all. Bags under her eyes had started to appear on her face and the more of those monsters that got to her and drained her life force, the weaker she felt. Libble’s healing seemed to have diminishing returns the longer they journeyed. Pibble called out from ahead of them anxiously. Pibble: This isn’t good. The group quickly joined Pibble who stood in front of a towering cliff that rose up above them. There was a slender path barely wide enough for a normal sized twibble, with solid, jagged rock on one side and a drop, who knew how deep on the other. Wyla groaned seeing it as there was no way that poor Twibble was going to be able to cross that, with or without her on his back. Avae: Hnn..what do we do? ::She murmured and squeezed his fur:: Ribble: We climb up! Verily! ::he looked around at everyone and deflated a little:: No? Fine. Twibble: We’ll fiigure something out. Maybe Nibble has some magic that caan help us? Nibble: I can certainly try. Let me think for a moment. The sage moved up to the narrow path and surveyed it for a moment while Twibble laid on the sand to rest a moment. The others took up watch around them. Kwibble: Be wary everyone, last time we stopped those things came at us. She said confidently, sword in hand, whilst looking back the way they’d come from. Swibble and Ribble stood at the ready to their left while Pibble and Libble covered the right. A few minutes or moments at least passed and Ribble seemed to be staring at a spot on the mountainside further away from where they rested and the lone, precarious path. Avae: Ribble? Ribble: I dost believe I see something. There. ::He gestured with one of his climbing axes:: After a brief discussion the group decided to investigate Ribble’s finding and Nibble studied it for several moments. Nibble: I believe, yes, there’s a passage behind this portion of stone. Nibble took a moment and gestured, a soft glow formed around her hand before it illuminated a faint crease in the stone that eventually flared and rumbled as the stone door shifted back and to the side to reveal a dark passage. Swibble and Ribble exchanged glances, grins and both tilted their heads back and proclaimed. Both: Secret tunnel!! Wyla couldn’t help but giggle softly at their silly outburst, as the passage was revealed and noted the not so subtle head shake from Twibble, followed by a lengthy feline sigh. Twibble: And theey’re my second aand thiird in command because? She giggled and nuzzled against his mane. Wyla’s light filled the passage, for several meters, to give them a view ahead. The ground was solid stone, which was something at least. Zombies and skeletons couldn’t come at them from below. She hoped. But she remembered the last time they were in tight spaces. She hoped there wouldn’t be anymore fighting. But part of her knew better. Twibble: If you’d be so kiind, Pibble? Pibble took the lead once more and they all followed, with just enough room to walk in their usual formation but much closer than before. It was almost uncomfortable. So Ribble and Swibble moved to the front with Pibble. While Libble went to the back with Kwibble and Nibble. Nibble: We’re getting close. Up ahead should be the ruins where the Spine of Paralysis Removal is located. It was made long ago by the Replicator of Gen’tronic. An old kingdom that used to exist here. The Replicator was their greatest smith. It is logical to assume that the great smith may have created defenses that may still be functional. We should proceed with caution. Wyla nodded as Nibble spoke of the ancient ruins they headed towards and possible dangers. There was a loud rumbling behind them as the stone moved to once more cover the entrance to their little passageway that started to ascend slightly. A final echo of Ribble and Swibble’s voices emanated from the closing stone door before being silenced completely. Secret Tunnellllllllll!!!! To be continued…. ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga
  21. Another one of those sims I had delayed putting here! @Tahna Meru is a marvel at writing her character, deep, thoughtful, she is able to go back to details from months ago creating a delightful continuity in the story and a wonderful sense of progression and growth. Watching her develop as a writer and an officer has been a privilege, and I think she's going PLACES. Even more so if she continues to write with @Bryce Tagren-Quinn , a rising star for me too, meticulous and beautifully described. These two girls have worked a great scene together, give us more of these two together! ((Cyrithra Forest, Palanon)) A quiet hush fell over the campsite as the Admiral and First Officer took the makeshift stage. Reynolds: Midnight approaches, so if I can steal your attention for a short while before we ring in the new year. Neathler: Don’t worry, there will still be plenty of drinks after we’re done. Reynolds: Those of you who’ve been with the Gorkon for a while know I like to start my presentations with one of the hardest ribbons to receive… Ribbons, medals, and promotions were passed around to the gathered officers, accompanied by words of praise for their actions. Meru always found awards ceremonies awkward, no matter how they were dressed up (or, in this case, dressed down). She understood them; it was important to recognize the work of the crew, and the ribbons could be encouraging reminders of what you’d done and survived. But it was kind of like getting a souvenir from the trauma gift shop. She cheered anyway, for her friends and comrades, because strange as the whole thing was, they earned this celebration. Ena’s award brought a particular swell of pride, though the younger Bajoran wasn’t there to receive it, and Meru made a mental note to congratulate her friend as soon as the night was over. A lightshow lit up the sky as the presentation drew to a close, marking midnight and the changing of the year. “Happy 2400” blazed across the night, accompanied by the joyous cheers of her shipmates, and she raised her nearly-empty cider in a toast, as she saw others doing. Loxley slipped away in the aftermath, probably going after the fresh desserts, and Meru turned back to Bryce. Tagren-Quinn: I suppose—I guess there’s no question if it’s Binch or Finch now. He smirked, teasing, and Meru made a face of awkward discomfort that further scrunched up her nose, before giggling. Tahna: Guess not. Tagren-Quinn: Have–have you heard of a New Year’s resolution? Do Bajorans have a tradition something like that? She shook her head. Tahna: No, I don’t think so. I’m not super familiar with the tradition—it’s a Human thing, right? Tagren-Quinn: On Earth, some will commit to goals like weight loss or being more devout in their religions. A personal goal, a behavioral adjustment deemed important enough to focus on, to improve upon. It’s not something that I’ve historically done but I think—I think this year, it should change. He seemed conflicted, almost pained. After a moment’s pause, the expression faded, turning to sturdy resolve. The light from the campfire made his eyes look that familiar, bright, youthful green once more. Tagren-Quinn: Never been good about opening up with folks and that’s worked against me. For a time, I felt much like my El-Aurian ancestors, though—aimlessly drifting, nomadic, not really belonging anywhere—but after tonight… I am—thankful for the community here, gathered around this camp, and for your friendship. I am not sure how that really rolls into a resolution but it’s a thought I just now had. Meru nodded. It was a rare moment of openness, and she wasn’t quite sure how to react. No witty remarks sprung to mind, all the encouragement she could offer seemed shallow compared to the genuine honesty he’d just expressed. So she smiled, and nodded, and before she could think of something appropriate to say he continued. Tagren-Quinn: Any–anyway, the mug’s getting a little empty and that cider's calling. Can never have just one mug. What do you say? Another trip to the tables, maybe congratulate some of our comrades along the way? She smiled, grateful to bring some levity back to the conversation—and regretful. She wasn’t the best at handling big emotions like this, she never had been. Just because it was easier to switch to something lighter didn’t mean that was the right solution, and at some point compartmentalizing could turn into flat-out ignoring. Tahna: Yes, we can’t let the cider run out! That would be a tragedy. Congratulations to you, by the way. First Contact is big! Tagren-Quinn: Response Her free hand fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as they walked back toward the tables, and her mind drifted back to the idea of resolutions. Tahna: We don’t have New Years resolutions, but I guess it’s kind of like a renewal scroll. Tagren-Quinn: Response Tahna: Yeah, I mean, it’s a completely different holiday, but it’s the same idea. You’re burning your past problems, making yourself and the world a better place in the days ahead. And they did have a campfire, though it was entirely the wrong holiday and culture. She could imagine throwing her troubles onto the fire, walking into the new century a better woman. There was no reason, beyond the calendar, that you couldn’t toss your problems on a fire multiple times a year if it made you feel better. Tagren-Quinn: Response Tahna: For my New Years renewal scroll… She cracked a grin at the newly hybridized tradition, though it faded as she considered. There were plenty of things she regretted about the past year, and most came from a place of defensiveness and fear of getting hurt. She wasn’t sure she was ready to share that tonight, but…he’d been honest, hadn’t he? Risked vulnerability? So it was only fair. Meru took a deep breath before continuing, her eyes fixed on the tables ahead. Tahna: I tend to avoid things just because they might end badly. Like– like my mom. We haven’t spoken in… ::She stifled the urge to end there and change the subject.:: We don’t see eye to eye, or get along, but I wish we could try to. I’ve just been too scared to even begin fixing that relationship. So, I’d burn that unnecessary defensiveness. She mimed tossing something into the fire, and laughed lightly to break the tension. Tagren-Quinn/Any: Response
  22. These last few weeks have been a bit of a mess and I haven't been able to upload as many sims here as I wanted to, but this one was reserved to post here for a good reason. Firstly, it's @Jo Marshall 's delightful prose, as always, gorgeous, deep and beautiful. Secondly, the wonderful way in which the dialogue fits @Quinn Reynolds 's characters, seamlessly. Simming goals. ((Cyrithra Forest, Palanon)) Across the campsite from them, past the rows of delightful lantern-lit cabins already warm for the night ahead, Jo caught sight of Alieth and their newest transfers, Finch and T'Lar, chatting the evening away. That's what they'd always used those evenings for. Getting to know the crew, getting to know one another. Talk, drink, eat, and celebrate together in the eventuality that one day, one of them might not be there to see it. Ever aware, her blue eyes combed over the campsite. Marshall: You'd think, doing what we do, he'd want to be a Marine Biologist on Deluvia IV, instead. At least the weather would be better for most of the year. Reynolds: He did want to be a marine biologist, for a little while. After the Eagle crashed, he was fascinated with the oceans and sea life for a long while. Brunsig: I remember the lectures. Trying to catch up on PADDwork and suddenly a hand-drawn picture of a Bolian sugarshark in front of your eyeballs. ::A hint, only a hint, of a smile creased the corners of his blue eyes as he looked toward Jo.:: Live in the equatorial seas of Bolarus, entirely vegetarian, and feed on sweetkelp—in case you were wondering. Marshall: That's the life. ::Her smile twitched at the edges of her lips as she folded her arms, sealing in the warmth.:: I remember his sugarsharks. Still got one in the Operations office on the hall of doodle fame. Has it really been that long? He was knee-high to a grasshopper last week. Coming on board the ship felt simultaneously like a glacial age and a week ago, when Dylan had run around the ship with the energetic exuberance of his young age, when the lithe Fleet Captain of the Gorkon had seen them all safely back home to their actual reality. He'd grown so quickly, and with such an old head on his shoulders, it felt like a Q had erased the years between. He could ride on his own now, she didn't need to show him as much anymore, and aside from small course corrections, he'd soon be speeding on his own bike. Reynolds: I suppose I’d fret whatever he’s doing. ::She exhaled through a rueful sigh.:: In the end, it just comes down to what you’re worrying about, rather than whether you are. Marshall: He's a smart kid. The only one I know that can run rings around you when it comes to dismantling a replicator at speed. ::She tongued her cheek as a small idea bloomed in blue.:: We should make that a challenge. Line you up in the Cargo Bay and time it. A daft idea, presented for the amusement of her friend, whose worry lines would one day represent a relief map of Bajor riverbeds. Stretching her boots out in front of her, Jo crossed them over, feeling the thickness of the socks inside, the woolly scratch on her skin and the delight in just… being outside in the natural world again. Flanked by trees on all sides, breathing in their expelled oxygen, feeling the stress slip away from her brain stem. Retiring to a quiet colony seemed like a good idea. Somewhere they could go on hikes, cultivate a garden, read and relax and do not much else. Reynolds: Anyway. Walter and I were talking; he thinks we should organise a reunion for everyone who was on the Gorkon during our time Over There. Brunsig: Dominion War vets do it all the time. ::He sipped from his brandy flask, and held it out to Jo once more.:: Gives people permission to talk about what happened, pay their respects to the dead, reminisce about the non-soul-crushing moments, eat vast amounts of cake, gently weep in each other’s arms, yadda yadda. Marshall: It's those yadda yadda moments that really give it the flavour. Taking the proffered hipflask, Jo knocked back a swig from it with all the burning sensation to go with it. Strong wasn't the word; smooth was probably nearer, with a post-swallow sensation of liquid lava. Knowing better than to offer it in the semi-circle she would if Erin were with them, Jo passed the flask back to Walter and nodded, approvingly. Marshall: I like the idea of it, though. ::Her mouth mulled around the thought.:: Tell me more. And as the party continued, the celebrations winding into the evening, the three friends sat, drink, and talked about a future that seemed perpetually on the horizon, just waiting for them to explore it. fin -- Commander Jo Marshall Chief of Operations USS Gorkon, NCC-82293 G239304JM0
  23. I really enjoy how @Sal Taybrim's writer allows us a peek into Sal's family dynamics, and it was great to see Commodore Taybrim in the role of a younger sibling. Those little things are what makes the character so alive and I can't wait to read more. Because there is more... right?
  24. Justin / @Yalu reasserts himself as a tugger of heartstrings with this beautiful slice of family life.
  25. The subtelty of the writing, Nkai's inner thoughts, the brushing of Cheesecake's wet nose against his hand 🐕 just a lovely read! @Quinn Reynolds Lt. Commander Caedan Nkai - A Cheesecake and Her Muffin Are Not Easily Parted
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