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

Let's kick off our new quotes thread with some inspiration: And insight: And of course, some out of context:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After coming back from temporal shenanigans, meeting strange faces that are strangely dressed make one paranoid that there are still people suffering from time displacement. Well...not quite.... IC: ((Outside Upper Holodecks, Deck 7, USS Octavia E. Butler)) Varic: …Honestly, I thought you were the women my friend here has been trying to recruit to play succubi for our session. So I just shot. ::he shrugs:: I did think you were dressed oddly, but... why were you chasing him? Forsyth: A what, no? Nis: Some ancient human monster, right? Katsim: I don’t know…we’re not these…succubi. None of them were familiar? He gave a dramatic disappointed sigh as if knowing they were missing out on some crucial experience, he pitied them almost. Lenie: I don’t recognize them. And they’re Officers, Var! Forsyth: You don’t recognise Commander Katsim? Commander Katsim? He blinked before looking at Lenie and gave a little shrug. Varic: No? ::He clears his throat:: I work in the morgue. It’s usually a good thing if I haven’t seen you. One of the few jobs no one in the medical department really wanted to take on. Mortuary sciences however was his specialty. Lenie: Response Nis: Oh. Well that settles it. You’re definitely from the Butler, alright. Katsim: That’s good to know. Forsyth: Sorry, we thought you were a misplaced stowaway. He gave a little wave of his hand as if to dismiss the entire situation. Varic: It’s fine, we can’t expect everyone to recognize the difference between an elf and vulcan ::he adjusts a pendant on his chest:: Usually this magic sigil is the big indicator if someone knows the game we’re playing or not, it's very popular on earth. Ah, those academy days of plotting synchronized holodeck check outs to get an entire weekend camp out without having to leave campus. He missed those days. Nis: A magic … what? Lenie: : Response Forsyth: It's alright, Lieutenant. Varic: We have room if you wanted to join, a few folks who usually join us needed a break after the whole… incident, and need to spend more time in… ::finger quotations:: reality. Lenie: Response Nis: Well, can you give us the bow and arrow? We’d like to see it. He looked at Lenie then shrugged before offering the bow to Jania. Unexpectedly they’d knock the arrow, turn and shoot him straight in the chest. Honestly, he should have expected that. Nis: That’s what you get for shooting me! Varic: Lenie… don’t you dare roll damage. ::Clearing his throat:: We.. we need to get back to the holodeck and use what time we have left. ::taking his bow back, he dramatically flipped the cape behind him his accent returning:: We must tary no longer, Swiftfeet, let us away! Lenie/Forsyth: Response Nis: Just don’t get hurt. Their voices became a distant sound. Once more the thought of adventure and heroics consumed the half-bajoran’s thought. No longer was he Varic Rion. He was the bane to those that stalked the night. A hunter of his kindred. He was Xerxes Nightwalker. He was the Hero of this story… And Lenie er… Swiftfeet was there too. [End scene for Varic] Lieutenant JG Varic Rion Science Officer USS Octavia E. Butler Played by: -- Lieutenant JG Sevantha Saa Counselor USS Octavia E. Butler A240105SS2

In the Sto'Vo'Kor lounge, @Samira Neathler and @Tahna Meru discuss their pets and what provisions to put in place in case they become assimilated. Sami suggests making sure that Tahna's pet has a unique signature stored on the ships computer, so that the pets can be easily traced if allowed to roam somewhere. Lt. Commander Samira Neathler - Flying pets

Lhandon and Morro typically have quite a fun, almost comedic dynamic at times. The two of them are the biggest 'himbro-gymbros' and their scenes more often than not place them in the gym, working out, sharing perhaps a singular brain cell and "getting them gains bruv." So what happens when we take this format and turn it on its head? We started this scene like we start any other gym scene, in the gym, except this time there was something off. Lhandon discovers that Morro is upset and goes to talk to him. This sim is a few rounds into the scene and Morro opens up to Lhandon, as he's just found out that he's been manipulated not just by a complete stranger in the mission, which is bad enough, but also by someone Morro should be able to trust implicitly. This entire scene was Vio's idea and he's run with it to make a scene that's such an emotional gut punch. I have been thinking about this sim all day. Please do enjoy this brilliant piece of writing from @Morro Caras

I cannot say enough good things about this sim. It opens up our second act beautifully. Not only does it do and excellent job of laying out clear and concise information about the planet we are headed down to, it also has wonderful moments of characterization for Lt Matthews who is leading his first mission team. Its too hard for me to choose my favorite part, but I'm especially fond of the way he uses the metaphor of a symphony to illustrate his character's inner panic. ((Main Bridge, Deck 1, USS Astraeus)) System PE-629A. Such an unimaginative name. Yet, getting the Astraeus through the high-energy cloud and past a dangerous asteroid field had been anything but dull. Now that the ship was well clear of the bizarre anomaly, they had taken the chance to get the ship back into working order and, thankfully, all was well. Charlie cast his eyes up to the Main Viewscreen just as the image had switched from the cloud behind them and back to the planets they were approaching. As they passed them one by one, the image of the “rogue” planet shimmered into view. This unassuming planet, completely dark on the side the Astraeus had approached, was a scientific marvel. Not only was it not indigenous to the star system that they were now in, but it had somehow settled into an orbit. An orbit in the habitable zone of system PE-629A. The planet was no longer a rogue. The information on it from the Borealis had given them a slight glimpse of it but, due to the nature of the electrical discharge and the cloud the ship had passed through, what they had been provided could not exactly be taken as gospel. Now, now they were finally going to get a chance to really look at the planet, up close and personal, and see what they could find. Mei’konda: Standard orbit, Mr. Caldwell. All staations, begin surface scans. Let’s see what we’ve got down there. Caldwell: Response Lieutenant Matthews cast an eye down at the LCARS in front of him and quickly moved his hands across the coloured buttons, lightly pressing at them as he started a scan as the ship settled into its orbit. It was almost a novelty that he wasn’t aligning the targeting scanners to shoot at a hostile vessel, or raising the shields and checking their status, not that he was complaining. Getting to where they were wasn’t easy, but the Astraeus had gotten there in the end, and now they had the chance to do what Starfleet was meant to be doing, exploring strange new worlds. Rosek-Skyfire / Kiax: Responses Charles watched as the information started to populate in front of him. The Astraeus had as good a set of scanning equipment as most ships within the Fleet, and they would need it too. After the surprises they’d encountered when entering the system, he wanted to make sure that there were no shocks now. Electrical or otherwise. He’d had his fill of them. Matthews: Hmm. No signs of technology at all, Sirs. Not yet, and not on the surface anyway. Nothing that would indicate remnants of a race. No power emanations. Ice is confirmed, covering… erm… sixty-five… no, sixty-seven-point four percent of the planet. Some areas of flat land, a couple of mountainous areas. ::turning towards Alentonis and Harford:: No atmosphere. It would have been ripped away when it was thrown from its native system. Alentonis / Harford: Responses He nodded slowly, quickly transmitting his findings to the upper Primary Scientific Complex on Deck Eight. Commander Delgado, still on loan from the USS Borealis, had spent most of her time there since she had been on board. The experienced Officer had requested all information on the planet to be transferred to her as and when it came in. Mei’konda: Sounds promiising. At the very leaast, in environmentaal suits, we should have no problems down there, yes? Some in person sample collectiion and analysis miight be just what this crew needs. It’s a reliief that there’s nothiing that will interfere with the transporters, but it could still be a good idea to taake a shuttle, so any extra gear any away teams need will be riight there with you. Thoughts, number one? Rosek-Skyfire: Response Matthews listened to the exchange between the Captain and his First Officer, fully expecting the Caitian to give the order for an away team to be put together. Instead, he felt the stare from the Captain’s blue eyes focusing on him. Mei’konda: I agree. And giiven that we have a lot of ground to cover - literally - two away teaams to start seems perfectly reaasonable. Commander, you’ll lead one. Mister Matthews, I’d liike you to lead the second. oO Me?! Is there another Matthews here? Oo Charlie could hear the red alert klaxon sounding within his head as he stared back at the Captain. He had no idea at all that he would be given an away team to lead. Commander Rosek-Skyfire getting one made sense; he would have expected Lieutenant Commander Kiax to get the second one, or Lieutenant Commander Alentonis, seeing as it was more of a scientific mission. Swallowing hard, the Human man did his best to keep his face from revealing all that his brain was thinking, which wasn’t so much a collection of thoughts but more a symphony of panic being played completely out of order, and he nodded respectfully towards his Commanding Officer. Matthews: Aye, Captain. Rosek-Skyfire: Response Mei’konda: You maay both select any equipment you think you would need. I will also leaave the choice up to each of you as to whether you would raather beam down, or taake a shuttle. However, I think there are a few key officers who will baalance out your groups well. He blinked slowly as the Captain turned back towards the front of the Bridge. oO Shuttle? Shuttle, right? Yeah. We’ll take a shuttle. We can cover more ground, take more specialist equipment with us, pattern enhancers, scanning equipment, stuff like that… Maybe we should use the transporters? It’ll be quicker. We’ll use the transporters… The equipment though. Damn. Carrying equipment in an EVA suit. Shuttle. Definitely a shuttle. Oo Mei’konda: Lieutenant Caldwell, I’d like you to accompaany the First Officer. Lieutenant Tam is an excellent officer as well, Commander, and… Ensign Wright has done a good job up here today. What do you say we giive her the chance to go on her first away mission? Rosek-Skyfire / Caldwell: Responses Mei’konda: Excellent. Lieutenant Matthews, I would liike you to take Commander Alentonis, Lieutenant Ral, and Doctor Harford with you. He bit his lower lip. oO Harford? Great(!) Oo Mei’konda: You may both also select any additional personnel that you liike to accompany you from the vaarious depaartments on the ship (NPCs). Any questiions? Matthews: ::turning towards Rosek-Skyfire:: Commander, any preference on where you and your team will start? There is an area of flat land in the southern hemisphere on the dark side of the planet, it seems to have a high mineral composition. I’d like to start there, if it’s all the same to you. ::smiles weakly:: Rosek-Skyfire / Caldwell: Responses Kiax / Alentonis / Harford: Responses Charlie nodded. Mei’konda: Very well. Let’s get to it. Commander Kiax, let’s get the relief officers up here, includiing Lieutenant Beyett to taake over Tactical, and we will monitor thiings from orbit. You’re dismissed, everyone. Taake some holos for the rest of us, will you? Matthews found himself smiling again, and felt little flecks of excitement fill him. Matthews: Aye, Captain. We’ll make sure to put the flash on. ::pause:: Commander Kiax, do you have anyone who can prep an appropriately sized shuttle with the appropriate equipment? Scanners, pattern enhancers? The works. I’ll fly it but someone with piloting experience would be great. They can come along, the more the merrier. Kiax / Rosek-Skyfire / Caldwell: Responses Alentonis / Harford: Responses His eyebrows twitched slightly. He recognised the name, but he just couldn’t put a face to it, though he would soon find out who it was once they met in the Shuttlebay. Charlie directed his smile towards Esa before looking at Lieutenant Commander Alentonis and Doctor Harford in turn, nodding at each of them as he did, the smile remaining on his lips, though it did wane slightly as he looked towards Alix. He just couldn’t help it. As he left his post on the Bridge, he made his way to the turbolift, entering it first as he held the door open for the others to enter. He moved his hand back from the door as Alentonis and Harford joined him in the lift, the deep red doors closing with a whoosh behind them. Matthews: Deck Four. ::taps combadge:: =/\= Chief Ral, come in please. =/\= Ral: =/\= Response =/\= The familiar voice of Wyatt crackled through the combadge as the turbolift set off to its destination. Matthews: =/\= Lieutenant. Matthews here. We’re going planetside, Chief. Captain Mei’konda wants you to be a part of the team. ::pause:: A shuttle is being prepped. =/\= Ral: =/\= Response =/\= Matthews: =/\= Brilliant, see you there. We have to EV up before departure. We’ll launch as soon as the shuttle is ready. Matthews out. =/\= He turned his attention to the other two Officers with him in the turbolift as he tapped the combadge, closing the channel to the Chief Engineer. If the situation was better between them, he'd be delighted that Alix was here to see him leading his first away team. Not only would she give him confidence, but she was a damn good doctor. However, the situation wasn't good between the pair of them, even after their conversation when she'd turned up to his quarters in an emotional state. oO Right. I can't let whatever is between her and I mess this up for me. She's an Officer, I'm an Officer. It's as simple as that. We're investigating the planet, not rehashing our past. Oo Matthews: So, anything your specific departments think we should be looking for? ::looks between both of them:: Commander? Doctor? Alentonis / Harford: Responses Matthews: We know so little about this planet, and where there is a lack of information, there is always potential danger. ::pauses:: I’m hoping we can find something though, but I’d also appreciate not having to put my skills to use. Alentonis / Harford: Responses --- Lieutenant Charles Matthews Acting Chief of Tactical & Security USS Astraeus NCC-70652 A240012CM1 -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "USS Astraeus – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to sb118-astraeus+unsubscribe@googlegroups.com. To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/sb118-astraeus/DU2PR02MB7528B3B9216B6DD77251B453D93C2%40DU2PR02MB7528.eurprd02.prod.outlook.com.

A little bit overdue, but I want to recognize this first MSNPC from one of our newer writers @Morro Caras. Absolutely fantastic first showing that let us get to know who this MSNPC was and what she was all about. ❤️ ---- ((Grand bedroom, Palace,The Treasure moon)) Sbadni got up and looked at herself in the reflection of the priceless mirror from one of her greatest “deals”. Sbadni: By the stars, I'm still alive? She looked like hell. another night, another party. Though she was pretty sure the last one was three days ago. Had it lasted three days? It didn’t matter. There were new people coming to the moon tonight. Ones she could impress. Maybe they would be novel enough for her.Maybe they would have some kind of desire that wasn’t just “love” or “power” or a love for power. She’d know once she gave them “the tickle”. She had spent most of her career avoiding and antagonizing the Emerald chain. Those were the glory days. Everything was novel back then, and the smuggling and the dealing was good. Now left with no one to challenge, no one to harass or sell to in this sector; She hoped to attract novel people. She had a handful of rare items she was excited to put on display, maybe word would spread and she’d actually find someone worth her time. Sbadni flipped open their little retro communicator. They thought it was cute. Sbadni: =/\= D’viiii :stretching out to a whine:: Bring me my flask and then make sure the rare items in the exhibition hall are ready for tonight. I want to make sure that we impress tonight’s guests. That we draw them in and tickle their fancy =/\= In the next room D’vina winced, the boss finally was up. She hated when Sbadni called her that. It infantilized her. D’vina: =/\= Right away boss =/\= It would still be many hours until the party was ready, and the grand reveal of the “priceless” artifacts wasn’t until the “climax” of the party. The boss always wanted the biggest reaction out of people. Best D’vina could do was bring her the flask first and try to cover up her annoyance. The boss could sense it. D’vina stepped in with a full flask of the drink that could knock a full blooded Orion off their feet. But Sbadni had grown very tolerant. Sbadni’s empathic nature allowed her to sense her handmaiden’s annoyance with her. Sbadni: Don’t be such a mudling.::taking the flask::. Be a dear, hand me the guest list. D’vina handed over a logging device. Sbadni: Interesting, very interesting. Anymore information on these? She pointed out a few listings on the list of slots that were taken. D’vina: No, that was all that was gathered. Something stirred in Sbadni, a twinge of excitement. Finally something that might be interesting. She might have to get to know these “strangers” [end of scene] --- Former Dread Captain Sbadni, Wielder of Khrysaros Blade, Usurper of the Fourteenth House of Betazed O240106MC1 She/They (Character) he/him/his (player)

I'm always a fan of particularly strong narration, but I love how this also let me learn more about both character's history in a particularly heart warming moment. It is indeed a small world! @Alora DeVeau and @Arturo Maxwell

Most of us love a good medical drama, and it's even better when we get to learn more about procedures for different species. In this JP, we get a really nitty-gritty look into Trill medicine as our engineer lies on the biobed following a massive injury sustained during the last mission. I also know from Discord that Nick and Zac have poured so much thought, love, care, and research into this JP, ensuring all the little details are accurate and creating a story grounded in realism and a joy to read. We are also introduced to a brand-new PNPC, Vivien Thomas, who, as I learned today, is named after a famous African-American surgical technician who developed a pioneering technique for heart surgery in babies. @Jania Nis @Kimonzi Lahl

(ooc: just a one-off solo sim. I wanted to put a capstone on Yinn and Loq's entanglement, but it needed to be a private moment between the two.) Yinn held it together. Bolians didn't let down the group. And Starfleet officers didn't let their feelings get in the way of the mission. So she held it together, fighting cutists, evading the Borg, getting the crew safely back to their own time. She held it together going to sickbay, confirming nearly everyone had made it back. She held it together through debriefing. Promontory placed her on leave and she barely managed to say more than "aye, sir," but she managed. She somehow held it together all that time, through the yawning chasm of loss she felt. She had lost half of herself. Half of her body, half of her mind, half of her soul. What was left? She knew, objectively, medically, scientifically, things were back to normal. But she had never felt less normal in her life. Her thoughts were sluggish. Her body was unbalanced. And she couldn't remember what she couldn't remember. She had flashes of her parents on Hitorah, a vague sense of how it felt to be stabbed during warrior training, just flashes, bits and pieces. Even the last mission wasn't clear. She was at a party, she was in the science lab, she was threatening someone, it was all a blur. Her head was swimming since the jump through time, and yet she held it together. Until the moment she walked into her quarters and saw Qurgh'Loq waiting for her, and her heart turned to water and her vision went blurry and she fell into his arms, arms that used to be her arms, pressed her face into a chest that used to be her chest, and broke down sobbing like she had never done even as a child. The whole ocean poured from her eyes, her whole body turned to water and evaporated, and yet there she still was, her body clinging to a body that was no longer hers. Qurgh'Loq: I feared you were dead. Yinn gazed into his eyes. Everything she had been holding back all day, he had been too. Yinn: So did I. That moment that we — that we weren't us. I was terrified the worst had happened. Qurgh'Loq: I suppose us separating safely is not the worst outcome. Yinn knew, logically, that was true. Would she have spent her whole life sharing a mind? Leaving Qurgh'Loq on his own with half his mind and body gone when she died? It was better this way for so many reasons, but it didn't feel that way. Yinn: I know, but it doesn't feel right to not be... you. Us. Qurgh'Loq stared into her eyes for an eternity. Qurgh'Loq: I... I do not know how to feel. It wasn't easy for him to talk about how he felt. But she understood him. She was him. Or at least, she had been. She slipped her hand into his, and pressed her forehead against his. Yinn: Even if we're not together, you will always be part of me. Qurgh'Loq squeezed her hand tightly. Her fingernails dug into her palm enough to draw blood. She knew her acidic blood was stinging his fingertips, and she understood now why pain was satisfying to Klingons. When a moment was important, you wanted to feel it, in the moment and long afterwards. They had pictured this moment many times, when they were still of one mind, and had no doubts that if they had to live separate lives, they would live them together. Qurgh'Loq: JIH dok. My blood. Yinn: Maj dok. Our blood. Qurgh'Loq: Tlinghan jIH. Yinn: Tlinghan jIH. I am Klingon. There were more elaborate vows, but at heart those were the only words that mattered. Our blood. The two of us are one. They would have a formal wedding someday, once they met a few other people, enough for a proper family. She would share her bed with who knows how many others, and would encourage him to put his Klingon stuffiness aside and do the same. But she and Loq shared a bond few others could understand. She would care about other people, love other people, but Loq was part of her in a way no one else could ever be. After sharing one mind, consummating their vows in any physical way seemed insufficient. No matter how close they got, it would never be quite close enough. But for tonight, it would have to be. Loq tugged the chain at the back of her neck, and it was enough to make her dress dissolve into a cascade of shells skittering across the floor of their quarters. She pressed her forehead against his and slid her hands under his uniform, feeling the ridge of his spines, so familiar, and yet so strange to no longer be a part of her. Tomorrow the work would start again. Counseling. Physical therapy. Regaining her sense of self. Regaining her comfort in her own body. Trying to get Loq to set aside his stoicism and do the same. Destroying that futuristic transporter, much as she hated to let it go. But for tonight, she didn't want to think about any of it. Not the future, not the past, just the two of them, a universe to themselves. Yinn and Qurgh'Loq. Maj dok. ----- Lt. Jr. Grade Yinn Science Officer USS Octavia E. Butler O240011Y12

Well, I thought I was going to have the most dramatic end to my scene between the four members, but @Arturo Maxwell decided he was going to one up me at the last second.

In this wonderful solo sim, @Jo Marshall encounters her brother Bear in Sunder Peak, one of many haunts on the asteroid Nassau in the "Johnson Timeline". With theirs being a rocky relationship, they try to navigate a slightly tense conversation, making somewhat of an accord out of a very dire situation. It's a beautifully written sim that gives us insight into the Marshall family and how they're faring in a Borg dominated galaxy. Commander Jo Marshall - Truces Made of Stars and Silence

So, on our most recent mission, there's been an ongoing joke OOC about it being "quiet" and "no pew pew" (as we are well acquainted with action-y missions aboard the Artemis). As such, the twists that people have thrown in have been a lot less "phaser"-y, and I wanted to highlight one of my favorites, written in by none other than the ever-wonderful @Vitor S. Silveira (with a dash of @Gila Sadar writing for her MSNPC). I think it's a really clever and fun way to add in some tension and a huge twist, as well as to introduce some doubt in the minds of one of our more antagonistic MSNPCs, without ever drawing a phaser!

You know the mission is good when the sims that are produced are absolutely top shelf. This sim is such a thrill. @Jania Nis

I found this quite amusing. Would this be sort of breaking the fourth wall? Kinda? Not really? 😄 (( Unknown, Unknown, Stardate Unknown )) O'Reilly blinked, his mind struggling to process the sudden shift in his surroundings. One moment, he had been standing on the familiar marine deck of the USS Octavia E. Butler, discussing the training schedule with his fellow marines, while on stand by. The next, he found himself tumbling out of a bathroom stall, the cold tile floor rushing up to meet him. The smell of cleaning products mixed with musty odors hit his nostrils, a far cry from the sterile, recycled air of the starship. Disoriented, Teddy pushed himself up, his hands slipping slightly on the damp floor. He glanced around, trying to make sense of his new environment. The bathroom was dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights casting an eerie glow on the dirty walls. To his right, he saw Link sprawled on the floor, looking equally confused. An attendant stood near the sinks, shaking his head disapprovingly at the two men who, from his perspective were no doubt horsing around. Teddy's marine training kicked in, and he quickly assessed the situation. This was definitely not the OEB, nor any Starfleet facility he recognized. The primitive fixtures, the musty smell, and the attendant's outdated clothing all pointed to something far more perplexing. As he helped Link to his feet, Teddy's mind raced with questions. Where were they? How did they get here? And more importantly, how were they going to get back to their ship? O’Reilly: Hey Link ::grabbing the other marine by his arm:: you ok? The dampness of floor and its cold unforgiving seemed to seep through the fatigues that Link was wearing, he gripped onto Teddy's arm as he was helped up. Jensen: I'm okay. O’Reilly: Where are we? He looked around to see this old bathroom and the stall that both of them had just fallen out of. It was a dimly lit bathroom, and the fluorescent lights flickered to give this room a claustrophobic feel. Jensen: I don't know. O’Reilly: I was just talking with Simmons about, umm, schedules I think. Jensen: Do you recognise this place? It looks old. O’Reilly: If we are in the past, we need to be careful, we’re going to stand out like sore thumbs. The attendant looked over to them and they awkwardly said… Jensen: Erm…hi. The two men gave him a look that said, why are you talking to me. Link nudged Teddy to follow as he felt the awkwardness of the situation take hold. The two made their way out of the bathroom and into a giant hall. Almost instantaneously, O'Reilly's recent statement became pointless as two beings of a species he'd never seen before cut him off. One had odd-looking tentacles and the other appeared to be wearing a red and gold metal outfit with glowing palms. They were met with the most diverse collection of people, aliens, and outfits. Some people were dressed in extremely heavy combat armor that was mostly green with a gold visor, and they were carrying giant rifles that made even the Federation rifles look tiny. Others were dressed as elves, orcs, and other fantasy creatures. There were people dressed in what appeared to be very form-fitting one-piece suits which were made up primarily of blue and white and featured thin white stripes going across horizontally and vertically over their chests and arms. In the center of the torso was the outline of a spider. At once, they all seemed to suddenly freeze in position and point at each other. Jensen: I had a dream like this once, I was pretending to be a… Teddy cut him off, know where this was going. O'Reilly: ::placing his hand on Link’s shoulder:: Yeah (beat) maaaaybe a story for another time (beat) or never. There was a momentary pause of awkwardness… Jensen: So…where are we? O'Reilly: Some type of meeting center? (beat) but what’s with the outfits? Jensen: They are… He paused for a second and took stock of where he was, an idea came to mind Jensen: Are we in a comic book? Before the question could be answered, O’Reilly interjected. O’Reilly: The flow seems to be heading that way ::pointing:: As the two turned to walk, there was a blood curtailing scream from the door next to the one they had exited and suddenly that same door slammed open and a blushing man in Starfleet uniform came running out. Jer-Legrand: Sorry sorry sorry sorry. O’Reilly looked back at the door as the starfleet officer shot out of the bathroom. O’Reilly: I’m fairly certain that symbol used to mean lady’s room? (beat) ::not recognizing the man:: Where are you from… O’Reilly didn’t want to give away where they were from, just in case it was coincidental that this man was wearing a uniform that was awfully similar to the 2401 officer uniform. Jer-Legrand was just a little bit taller than Link Jensen. He was flustered, to say the least, and the mortified look upon his face told the story of his embarrassment. Jer-Legrand: I’m from. Jer-Legrand took a moment to survey where he was and the two Starfleet marines in front of him. The Bajoran spoke with a southern French accent; his words ended short and seemed to be measured and thoughtful. Jer-Legrand: The Octavia E Butler? He questioned his response, not that he wasn’t sure where he was from but rather he wasn’t sure who these two were, or where he really was. Link, on the other hand responded with much more ethueism Jensen: Oh yay, us too. O’Reilly: Oh good, twos a date night, three’s a party (beat) shall we. ::indicating towards the larger room at the end of the hall:: Teddy’s offactories picked up on sweet and savory aromas that made his stomach grumble. It was only then that he remembered it was almost lunch time before they were sent back here. oO I wonder if they have replicators here. Oo Jer-Legrand: I guess so. Erm…Per’cel Jer-Legrand, I’m in operations. Jensen: Aw sweet. Can I call you Percy? Link almost seemed to bounce with excitement. Jer-Legrand: Everyone else does. O’Reilly: So you know Lhandon Nilsen? As he spoke, he looked around at the sights, smells, and sounds. It was an assault on the senses. Link was glad that he had his gloves on to suppress his Betazoid abilities. He lost count of the number of people in this large hall. They continued following the group and soon reached a gate where there was an attendant scanning what seemed to be badges being worn as lanyards around everyone's neck. Jer-Legrand: I don't think we have one of those. Percy spoke with uncertainty as he held the group back. Jer-Legrand: Perhaps we should see what we can do around here first. At least work out where and when we are. There has got to be some kind of sign around here. O’Reilly: Agreed! I’m glad we landed on earth, I’m no good without a UT. Jensen: What about that, what does that say? They wondered over to the billboard that showed the floor layout and a listing of various different stalls and people, wand where they can be found. O’Reilly: “Grand Rapid Comic-con”, what do you suppose that is? ::looking around at the strange outfits again:: Percy questioned along slight Teddy. Jer-Legrand: A Comic-Con? But Link provided an excitable response Jensen: A Comic-Con?…Comic-Com? O’Reilly: Two marines and a ops guy, I’m pretty sure we’ll find a way to get into that larger hall. Teddy’s stomach growled, he realized they were just about to have lunch when they were snatched away and when he got hangry, no one ever had fun. Jer-Legrand: What is in that hall? Jensen: Erm…good question…Teddy what is in the hall? O’Reilly: Looks like some type of convention? Jer-Legrand: So…you just followed everyone? Jensen: Errrr…yeah. O’Reilly: Sure. Percy just nodded. Then they came across a billboard, for people magazine, advertising the “sexiest man alive” Jer-Legrand: You think he looks like a human version of Toxin Arlill. O’Reilly: Maybe?…. Teddy winced his face trying to see it, the hairline was similar. Jer-Legrand: He really does. Jensen: I don’t see it. O’Reilly: ::just shaking his head:: Jer-Legrand: Really? look at him, he looks just like Arlill. O’Reilly: Nah, Toxin’s got a bigger beard. Jensen: Yeah, I don’t see it. We’re getting distracted. I want to get home. O’Reilly: Well we better do something fast, because ::stopping cold:: In the convention hall stood a figure that didn’t seem to fit. They were clad in a robe with fancy markings, it just didn’t set up right with Teddy. O’Reilly: You see them ::discreetly pointing:: do they seem out of place? Jensen: Yeah. that is not a cosplay. [To Be Continued] TBC! Private Link Jenson & Ensign Percy Jer-Legrand As simmed by Lieutenant JG Lhandon Joseph Nilsen Assistant Chief of Operations USS Octavia E Butler O240007LN1 He/Him/His (Both player and character) & Private First Class Thomas O'Reilly 4/73 Marines as simmed by: Lieutenant Toxin Arlill USS Octavia E. Butler (NCC-82850) Writer ID: 0239910TA4

It has been a fateful start to our misson thus far. Amity's First Officer @Wil Ukinix tragically died at the hands of a Hirogen Alpha named Ravarj--and his second cousin Keehani isn't taking the development well. Even though I got impatient and read through the whole of this sim while filling out tags, the little tweaks that were made between then and the time this sim hit my inbox are irreplacable. It's a captivating, heartbreaking scene that hits all the right places, and is a prime example of the fantastic writing abilities of @Wil Ukinix! I can't wait to see what happens with Keehani next. ((Flashback – Meeting Room, Copernicus Level 13, Amity Outpost, Stardate 240111.23)) Keehani was past being disturbed about sensing that Wil was in the room with her. The death echoes were just that – echoes. Her cousin was gone. She knew it. *He was not there*. But now, as her last “official” act on Amity, the exhausted and sleep deprived Betazoid wanted answers. Keehani: Then you tell me how it was that a vessel was able to decloak right next to the Independence without being detected! Keehani, with her hands flat on the table, stared directly at the human-Klingon hybrid. She was met with an equally fierce stance back. Iko: What the #$*@ do you want me to say?! Robin, her broken arm in a gel cast, wanted to reach out to Keehani – and to Bec. They were both so distraught and Robin... Robin just felt numb. Hopper: Keehani, we had no idea that the Hirogen were in possession of cloaking technology. The other Alphas were caught just as off-guard as we were... Ravarj must have traded for the technology or-- The Envoy dropped her head, letting her hair fall to her sides and cover her face. Keehani: No, because Starfleet didn’t do their job. And now the First Officer is dead. She looked up again. Keehani: ::Pointing finger:: All because of your incompetence! ::To Hopper:: And I can’t believe you would even *think* to leave Wil behind. Iko: SHUT UP! Hopper: ::Sternly:: Bec. ::A breath, then turning to Keehani:: There was a contingency plan in place. Wil knew his job and I knew mine. If things went south, my priority was evacuating... ::Hesitating:: Was evacuating you. He was to stay behind and take command. Knowing that it had been the “proper” thing to do didn’t make Robin anymore convinced that it was the “right” thing to do – and Keehani’s expression only affirmed her self-doubt. Hopper: The point is, we shouldn’t be trying to assign-- Keehani: I’ve requested a transfer to Paris. I’m leaving Amity. Do you really think I could stay here? I’ve lost confidence in Rivi, in Starfleet, ::side eye to Bec:: in the Chief of Security and Tactical on account of, oh, I don’t know, ineptness that got my cousin killed! Iko: Yeah, well the FDC does this stupid thing of ::high pitched, mocking tone:: “Oh, we’re better than Starfleet, we don’t need security officers on our away missions”---If you had let me JUST #%*^@&$ BE THERE--- Hopper: ::Losing her cool:: Then you would be dead too, Bec. We would have lost you both. Things are bad – we need you here right now. ::To Keehani:: We need you too. Please, both of you, just stop-- Iko: You had it “ALL HANDLED!” It was all going to be “JUST FINE!”. But now--- Bec couldn’t bring herself to say it. In any form. Keehani stood straight, and with a look of absolute contempt, screwed up her nose and exhaled through her nostrils, glancing between them both. Keehani: ::through gritted teeth:: May the Four guide you both. Because someone needs to. With that, she turned on her heel, angrily clip-clopping her way out of the meeting room. Bec stared right at Keehani as she left. Iko: ::quietly:: %^$@%. Watching her leave, Robin was surprised at how little sadness she felt. It was like the part of her that would feel grief was broken or just missing. Hopper: ::Trying to convince herself:: She... She just needs time. We all just need a little... A little time. ((Terminal A, a few minutes later)) With tears visibly streaming down her face, Keehani turned over her shoulder as she made her way towards the gate that would take her back to Earth, via a QSD ship – a “Quesadilla” ship as her cousin colloquially liked to call it, that a death echo chose to remind her and she chose to ignore. She took one last glance at Amity. The Outpost had become her home. She would miss its cosmopolitan feel, its upmarket facilities, and its beautiful park. But the death of Wil, and the strategic failure of the attempted treaty with the Hirogen was a disaster that she worried she’d never be able to heal from. There was no containing her anger, nor her sadness. She knew they were a dangerous cocktail. It was a sign to her from the Four. Time to move on. She’d requested a transfer, and the only position available was a diplomatic communications review role in Paris on Earth. Not ideal, but not necessarily permanent. With patience, she would diligently perform her duties, waiting for the next opportunity, on her path to one day become an ambassador in her own right. And now she had new motivation – to be more cautious, and not to repeat Rivi’s mistake of being too conciliatory. oO Keehani... don’t leave... Oo She squinted her eyes shut, shaking the death-echoed voice of Wil out of her head, as she walked through the gate. ((Room 65-235, SS Gecko, Cool down phase – 3 weeks later)) Rather than allow herself to be buried in grief, and allow death echoes to traumatise her, Amity’s now former Chief of Staff buried herself in PADDwork. She had requested Paris send her things to do, and they had complied. She’d also spent many of her hours writing up her final Amity report, expressing her view of the failures of Ambassador Vataix and Starfleet that had led to Wil’s death. Part of her mind kept telling her she was externalising. But she pushed that down... Sitting on her bed with PADD in one hand and a stylus pressed against her bottom lip, she was interrupted when the console in her room informed her of an incoming personal message. Whoever had sent it, it would have taken days, if not a week, to get to her. She hopped off the bed, placing the PADD and stylus carefully on the sheet, then sat at the console, pressing to accept the message. On the screen was the forlorn face of Son Astrad Ukinix, grandmother’s brother and Wil’s grandfather. The friendly, older man who now helped her Matriarch grandmother Vaxa with the administrative affairs of the Ninth House looked far from the young man in his twenties who’d had affairs with two Matriarchs from other houses. The recording started playing. Astrad: // Keehani. Um... I’ve been searching for the words... it’s your grandmother. ::Tears welling:: Her condition, it’s worsened. She didn’t take the news of Wil’s... ::swallowing:: passing well. // Keehani: ::Hand over mouth:: Oh, no. Astrad: // She’s become paranoid that the family’s going to fall apart again. It’s sent her into a spiral, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but with her neural condition, she may not recover. The doctors think she may only have a few months left. // Keehani: ::crying:: Oh, by the Four, no. Astrad: // I’m letting you know this now so you can make arrangements to transfer to Betazed once you arrive on Earth. Hayley, Anacem, the whole family from Earth are already on their way here-- // Keehani watched as Astrad covered his mouth, trying not to cry. If ever there was an example of how Earth’s culture had unnecessarily taught the Betazoid man of supressing his emotions, it was on display on the screen in front of her. Astrad: // Stay strong, Keehani. I know you always are. // The transmission ended. In a fit of rage, she moved towards the bed, picked up her PADD, and flung it at the nearby wall as hard as she could. She placed one hand on her forehead, the other on her hip, and sobbed loudly. That’s when she felt Wil’s presence again. As if he was in the room, telling her he understood, and that it would all be okay. But it wasn’t Wil. It was yet another insufferable death echo. Keehani: ::Screaming, crying:: GO AWAAAAAAAAAAAY! The Envoy collapsed onto the bed in the foetal position, arms wrapped around herself. ((End Flashback)) ========================================================== Envoy Keehani Ukinix Chief of Staff, Amity Outpost Federation Diplomatic Corps, United Federation of Planets V239511WU0 With very special guests Lt. Cmdr Robin Hopper (she/they) Chief Science Officer & Second Officer, Amity Outpost Character Wiki Page V239806K11 & Lt. Cmdr Rebecca Iko Chief of Sec/Tac Amity Outpost A239810RI3

In a future 2442, with a war raging in the Alpha Quadrant against the Lattice Alliance that threatens to bring the Federation to its knees, Robin Hopper's and Nathan Richard's daughter Alexis (written by the fantastic @Niev Galanis) has to instead deal with a pirate ship! I've merged two of their fantastic Disco titled sims together to highlight how well they've done bringing that dark atmosphere to a starship bridge during wartime Federation stories we see on Trek. Not only that, the characterisation of the child of two characters the Amity crew know and love is a joy to read. Fantastic stuff @Niev Galanis! ((Bridge, USS Resilience - Near a Planetary Nebula, Gamma Quadrant)) An Adamant-class starship. One of Starfleet’s best. Agile, durable enough to withstand at least a few shots from a Sencha wave weapon, and armed to the teeth. The USS Resilience was a ship worthy of its name, and it should have been out on the front lines saving lives. Instead, it was out here in the middle of the Gamma Quadrant chasing a madman. Drumming her fingers on the arm of her captain’s chair, Alexis Hopper was calm and collected on the outside. She filled out the chair well, as the ship deftly maneuvered to keep up with the ship full of pirates they’d been redirected to pursue, the pulse phasers cannons spitting angry bursts of orange after it. Pirates. Because there wasn’t already enough to keep up with in the galaxy today. Part of her wished she’d never sighted that damned Phoenix-class in the first place. At least Lex was lucky enough to have a fully staffed bridge, even if she’d had to improvise. It was an increasing rarity these days to field a full complement of crew - there just weren’t enough officers left. The Commanding Officer took a few moments to take in the state of those under her command, long blonde hair shifting around with the motion of her head. The Resilience’s bridge wasn’t all that different from its ancestor, the Defiant-class. It was tight compared to a starship, but efficient - and well-lit, like most starships in the modern era. To her left, Lieutenant Commander Natalia Moonsong-Orrey manned the engineering console. Lieutenant Sienna Monroe, a medical officer, was at the tactical station next to him. With how quickly things could go south when up against the Lattice Alliance it wasn’t strange to see a medical officer posted full time on the bridge. Their gaze moved back to the pirates on the viewscreen and the woman at the helm - Lieutenant Commander Amara Reade. oO Some of Starfleet’s finest, and we’re out here chasing our own tails… Oo No. Lex wasn’t going to let herself do that. Complaining about orders wasn’t going to get her anywhere. When she’d accepted her command, she vowed to herself to do it the right way. The Starfleet way. That meant leading her crew like a real CO would. Most of them had served varying lengths on the Resilience, but none longer than six months. That was the last time Starfleet had come knocking for transfers to one of the larger battleships. There was one person who stood out as the freshest face of all… her First Officer, promoted and assigned only days before their pursuit was ordered. She’d hardly had time to do more than shake his hand so far. The Trill was furthest to her right, at the science station. Eying the looming nearby nebula on the screen dubiously, Lex directed her attention toward Caliban. A. Hopper: That looks like bad news. Any good news for me? C. Ylvor: ::Wrly:: You’ll be pleased to know, Captain, that our sensor suite is operating at peak efficiency – providing a crystal clear report of precisely how blind we shall be if we’re forced to follow them into that Mutara Nebula... We’ll be reliant on short-range scans and manual targeting once we cross the threshold. But, therein lies the good news; They’ll be just as impotent in there as we shall be, Sir. The blonde commander’s shoulders visibly but subtly slumped as she knit her brow together. Steering your ship into a planetary nebula was a crazy move… and as far as Lex could tell, crazy moves were exactly this pirate’s MO. She’d recognized the name in the orders from Starfleet - It had taken her a few moments to place just where she’d heard it before. Her father had more than one story about an old Klingon doctor he’d been stationed with. To Lex, it was hard to imagine a Starfleet doctor committing the unique kind of cruelty Ikaia Wong inflicted on the galaxy today. A. Hopper: Status report, all stations. What are their shields looking like? C. Ylvor: I’ve ordered our flight wing to the bay. Commander Sh'kanan reports ready status – though I’d recommend against scrambling them in the nebula unless we find ourselves in a bad way, Sir. Fighters won’t hold up well in there. She looked at her notes before swivelling the chair towards the Captain to give her the status update. Reade: We are holding off the bow of the enemy vessel. Ready to close the gap whenever you want, Captain. Moonsong-Orrey: Engineering shows green across the board. Monroe: Ah, holding. Shields are holding. A. Hopper: ::with a faint smirk:: They want to run? Not a chance. Strap yourselves in - we’re about to show them what an Adamant-class can do. Mooonsong-Orrey: Orders, sir? Reade: Understood, ma’am. I am ready whenever. She tapped her hands near the helm controls, stating she was ready. C. Ylvor: ::With some urgency:: Our window to close distance and keep them out of the nebula is swiftly shutting, Captain. A. Hopper: We’re not going to give these pirates a chance to slip away this time. Lieutenant Commander Moonsong-Orrey, push those engines as hard as you can. Lieutenant Monroe, target the engines - aim to cripple, not destroy. Make sure they don’t get comfy. Lieutenant Commander Amara? …Get in their business and make it ours. Monroe: Engines. Engines. Yes Sir… Moonsong-Orrey: Pushing us to outpace them. Watching a shot land on one of the nacelles of the Pele’s Revenge, Lex did her best to not let her impatience get the better of her. These days, it truly felt like every second counted. They should have been out there making a difference, not cleaning up their own messes. But she wasn’t about to make a hasty decision and doom her crew to being stranded on a planet to helplessly await the inevitable. That was a fate crueler than death. They’d do this the right way. C. Ylvor: Fine shooting, Lieutenant. They’re feeling it – but I’m not detecting any damage beyond the nacelles. ::To Helm:: Reade, mind your speed. If they stop suddenly, we might fly right into them. Reade: Yes, ma’am, thank you for the reminder. There was a small, amused smirk on Lex’s face again at the thought. The Phoenix-class may have been nimble, but she knew which ship she’d rather be on if it came to a collision. oO This isn’t the time to be fantasizing about ramming speeds. …But still. Maybe he’d surrender if he thought… Oo She imagined the crunching metal and shuddering impact of hulls. Wong, trapped and finished. Her fingers tightened on the arms of her chair. No. That wasn't Starfleet. That wasn't her. Too many had given up on what Starfleet stood for already. A. Hopper: Keep firing. We want to knock those engines out, not tickle them. As the Pele’s Revenge crept closer to the edge of the nebula, still under fire, Lex didn’t let herself get comfortable. There had to be a way to resolve all of this without following a maniac into a Mutara nebula. Anyone who knew Starfleet as well as Alexis did knew that never ended well. Monroe: Is that enough, Captain? I— The nebula isn't going to be very kind on weapons or shields… Moonsong-Orrey: I think we should be able to compensate for the power drain on the weapons but the shields will have too much interference to form the field. C. Ylvor: We’ll have to rely on hull plating and the SIFs. Good thing we just got a clean bill of health from Spacedock. Reade: Just be aware, Commander, once we are in the nebula, I will have reduced movement controls due to interference. A. Hopper: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves yet. Stay on target and keep the heat up. C. Ylvor: ::A slightly chiding tone:: Lieutenant, need I remind you, the Phoenix Class has two nacelles. Monroe: Sorry! Sorry! Very sorry! Yes, of course. Raising her right eyebrow slightly, Lex also looked over toward Sienna when she sputtered out her rapidfire apologies. The Commander couldn’t help but pity the poor medical officer. Lex hated putting people on the front line who didn’t want to be there. It was just another sign of the desperate times. Moonsong-Orrey: You’ve got to keep working on them until your display shows them going cold. Reade: We are approaching the nebula, Captain. As her First Officer silenced the warnings from the console, Lex opened her mouth to issue the orders to keep up the pursuit… but there was something bothering her about all of this. Wong may have been a madman, but even he had to have some sort of a plan. Desperately limping into the nebula where the Resilience could just keep firing on them seemed too simple. Too straightforward. It was Natalia who gave voice to the Commander’s suspicions. Moonsong-Orrey: Does anyone else have an issue with how little they are fighting back? Reade: To be honest, they are running an odd flight path. Something seems off; I cannot pin it. Does anyone else have anything? Monroe: Response Moonsong-Orrey: I mean I know they can’t take us in a one-on-one but this is closer to flat running. Looking to each of her crew in turn, Lex’s attention landed back on her first officer as he crossed his arms and spoke. C. Ylvor: That’s Captain Wong’s M.O., Captain. I’ve known the man many years – in a manner of speaking. He’s not a fighter, but he’s crafty, and he’s not one to quit either. If he escapes into that nebula, we could be chasing them through the soup for days. Lex had tried hard not to think about the connection between the crew more than she absolutely needed to. The stakes only felt higher knowing how many familiar names she was responsible for keeping alive. That little stunt Command had pulled assembling this crew over the past few months hadn’t gone unnoticed. She’d been telling herself it was because Starfleet needed their best working together. Or that the ranks had gotten so thin that the legacy enlistees were starting to outnumber the new ones. But ever since the orders to capture Ikaia Wong had come in, the possibility had floated around in her mind. Her fingers began their rapid, impatient drumming on the chair again as the Pele’s Revenge approached the threshold of the colorful nebula. They weren’t going to be able to disable the engines before the Phoenix-class vanished within. A. Hopper: If he tries to run around in a nebula for days in that condition, we’ll be the least of his worries. This is so… ::looking briefly agitated before biting back her words and restarting the thought:: …Is there any way this doesn’t end with a ship being destroyed? C. Ylvor: It may be worth hailing him again, see if he answers this time now that we’ve got him cornered. Show him our faces; Friendly faces. Friendly faces. Right. Lex knew what he really meant. They could all trace it back to Amity Outpost. The Delta Quadrant station that had loomed over Lex’s life like a ghost from a past she only knew in stories. Her mother had never really seemed comfortable with the topic, and while her father shared the good times, even at a young age Lex could always see that sad look in his eyes behind the smile. He told stories about Wong too. It wasn’t just Starfleet ideals that had kept her from ordering her crew to destroy the Pele’s Revenge. By all legal means, Lex would’ve been completely justified. But having to tell her father she’d ordered the death of that friendly, wacky Klingon doctor she used to hear all about as a kid wasn’t something she wanted on her conscience if she could help it. Moonsong-Orrey: Response Reade: Hmm, that could work, but we run the risk of him not answering our hail. Monroe: Response C. Ylvor: It’s a tool we have at our disposal he may not be expecting. At least it ought to catch him off guard. A. Hopper: As long as he’s still sane enough to listen to reason. The first time they’d tried to hail the Pele’s Revenge, the chase across the sector had begun. Lex couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at the time. The Commander wanted to know just what was going through this pirate’s head. How he justified the suffering he caused in his own mind. If she had to be away from the front line, the least she could do was prevent any more of that. Reade: Commander, may I add something else? Lex gave a short nod of her head toward the helm, looking toward Amara again. A. Hopper: Go ahead, Lieutenant Commander. Reade: What if we turn off our sensors and radar, keep them at the following distance, and track them like ghosts through the nebula? Brow knitting together thoughtfully for a few moments, Lex considered the possibility. A. Hopper: It would definitely cut down on their maneuverability advantage… Monroe/C. Ylvor/Moonsong-Orrey: Response Reade: Yes, I was thinking the same thing. A. Hopper: But that’s only if they make it into the nebula in the first place. Keep your eyes on your stations. We’re not going to let them catch us with our pants down. Monroe/C. Ylvor/Moonsong-Orrey: Response A plan had been decided on. Lex had read through Ikaia Wong’s file. His propensity for insisting everything could be talked through. The Commander was about to put that to the test. A. Hopper: Slow the ship and cease fire, but keep weapons locked and your hands on the helm. Divert power to the shields in case they try anything… ::a small side glance at Caliban:: …crafty. Monroe/C. Ylvor/Reade/Moonsong-Orrey: Response A. Hopper: Lieutenant Commander Ylvor… we’re going to give your old friend another call. Hail the Pele’s Revenge. C. Ylvor: Response A. Hopper: All right, everyone. Smiling faces. Monroe/C. Ylvor/Reade/Moonsong-Orrey: Response Lex took a moment to adjust herself in her seat, brushing her bangs back behind her ears. Diplomacy was rare in the galaxy these days, and her wartime career had called for precious little of it so far. It had always made her feel uncomfortable - the stoic expression, the choice words, the emotional control… But that only made trying to get this pirate to see sense and turn himself in more important. The Lattice Alliance had never been interested in talking things out - that was what Starfleet did. There weren’t two points of view to debate over in this war. Lex had to believe she could win him over instead of solving this with weapons. Even if it was going to be hard to not let the madman have it for what he’d done. Taking a deep breath, she firmed up her shoulders and looked into the viewscreen before speaking. A. Hopper: =/\= ::voice somewhat strained, choosing her words carefully:: This is Commander Alexis Hopper of the USS Resilience to the Pele’s Revenge. We both know why we’re here, Wong. =/\= Wong: =/\= Response? =/\= Any Pirates: =/\= Response? =/\= Monroe/C. Ylvor/Reade/Moonsong-Orrey: Response TAG!/TBC… Commander Alexis Hopper Commanding Officer USS Resilience A240106NG2