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A beautiful sim from @Vesela Pace; I love the little nod to her species, and finding a small but impactful link to her people through a tapestry in a shop. Ensign Vesela Pace - Antiques, Eccentricities, and Other Small Things in Life. (google.com)

You ever get the impression that cats think of us as staff? Well apparently it's universal no matter the setting. Also, would take a phaser to the face for our lady Copurrnicus. ((Sam and Esmas apartment- Palais Bourbon District, Amity Outpost)) Sitting in front of a small mirror sitting on the desk, she repeated her morning mantra to herself. Copurrnicus: I am Professor Copurrnicus. I am the cutest kitten. I rule this roost. I. Am. Queen. S. Richards: It’s cute how you sit in front of that mirror every morning and meow at yourself. Copurrnicus held her head high as her owner picked her up and scratched under her chin. Copurrnicus: oOYes peasant. Scratch me like you mean it. Oo S. Richards: Aww, you’re such a sweet kitty. Let’s head to work shall we? Copurrnicus: oO I still don’t know what work means but if it’s that fun place with all the breakable glass and plants to munch on, lets go. Oo She waited patiently for the Mother Peasant to slip her collar on her, when she did she gave Sam her best big-eyed stare. S. Richards: Fine. I’ll carry you, but at some point you’re going to get too big for me to carry the whole way. Copurrnicus: Meow oO We will see about that Mother Peasant.Oo With a scoop, Sam was now holding her in her arms. That wasn’t where she preferred to be, so she climbed up onto Sam’s shoulder and eased herself into the hood of the jacket. Her own little cocoon to keep an eye on things behind Sam as they journeyed to work. ((Blue Line Train - Amity Outpost)) The kitten stayed in the hood on Sam’s jacket until they reached the train. Once they were settled in a seat Copurrnicus heard a familiar voice and perched herself back on Sam’s shoulder. Copurrnicus: oO Ah, yes. One of my other favorite peasants. Uncle Nathey-poo.Oo With all of her might she leapt from Sam’s shoulder and into Nathan's arms, nearly not making the jump. He made a strange sound but relented into pets and pats on top of the kitten's head. Copurrnicus: oO I am the image of speed and precision. Pet me more peasant. Oo The two people Copurrnicus looked at as her saviors were chatting about something called a warp core. Sounded like nonsense to her, but she was getting attention from the big guy with fumbling man hands. As soon as the attention started, it stopped. Copurrnicus: Meow ::waiting for attention and receiving none:: MEEOOW. Uncle-Poo let out a sigh, but did not continue with the pets. Copurrnicus reached down and gently patted the hand holding her. No reaction. It was time to up her tactics and get his attention. She lowered her head and gently bit the back of Nathan’s hand. N. Richards: Excuse you… S. Richards: Sorry… ::taking the kitten back in her arms:: She’s like me. I bite if I don’t get attention… Mother Peasant laughed as she gave the attention Copurrnicus wanted. ((Some time later- Science and Research Center, Amity Outpost)) Mother Peasant led the way into the lab. The kitten's favorite place. There was so much to jump and climb on and knock down and bite. She instantly spotted a particularly breakable glass beaker on the counter and vaulted herself to a nearby stool, using it as a stepping stone to the counter. Mom wasn’t watching, this was her opportunity to scootch the glass off the edge and listen to the delightful sound of it breaking apart. S. Richards: No ma’am. Off the counter, you know that. Copurrnicus: Meow oO My plan… Foiled once again. I’ll get that if it’s the last thing i do…Oo S. Richards: I think it’s time to ask Uncle Nathey-poo to make you a one of a kind cat tree. Something to keep you occupied when you come with me to the lab. ::booping her on the nose:: You are trouble. Y’know that? Another meow came from the kitten as she was set back down on the floor. Defeated, Copurrnicus curled up on the small bed that was made for her under the edge of the counter, right by her moms feet. She closed her eyes and had sweet dreams of climbing, jumping and biting the big guy. END Samantha Richards Civilian Science Liaison Amity Outpost A240103SR3 Special Guest: Lt. Cmdr Nathan Richards Uncle Nathey Poo Chief of Operations Amity Outpost A239905NR1

((Onamani Overlook Trail, Lake Vermillion – 3 Weeks After Frontier Day)) Had that really just happened? Had she really just asked him to marry her? Robin’s mind was still swimming with confusion. It didn’t feel wrong, it just felt… like a decision someone else would make. She’d never thought of herself as the type to ‘settle down’ – but then, she’d never imagined meeting anyone who would inspire her desire for such domesticity. Hopper: I… I haven’t even considered a ‘ceremony’. We’ve never… Do you want a big…? Now, here they were, discussing things like wedding rings, and what type of ceremony they wanted! How was it that she could confidently manage a department of hundreds of scientists without batting an eye, but the thought of planning one little wedding made her get all flustered and clammy? Richards: I’ve never really thought about it. Honestly, I will be happy with anything as long as I am with you. What do you want? Hopper: Honestly I have no idea… Is that terrible? ::Flustered, hand on forehead:: I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it. I don’t think I ever really thought it would happen. In all her dreaming, Robin Hopper had never really imagined herself being married. A married woman. Robin Hopper. Robin Richards? No, that was no good. Hopper: We’re keeping our last names, right? Nate chewed on his lip for the briefest moment before smiling and shrugging. Richards: That might be a good idea. ::Chuckling:: We have too many Richards on Amity as it is. A fleeting smirk briefly took her lips, before her eyes widened at another realisation. Hopper: What will Sam say? What will your mother say? Richards: Sam will be overjoyed. She already thinks of you as a sister. Robin furrowed her brow and screwed her mouth to the side, clearly uncertain about what was about to come next. Richards: My mom on the other hand… Hopper: She’ll die of shock. ::Nervous:: Or she’ll kill me. Nathan sighed and shook his head. Richards: It could be a classy wedding and funeral arrangement. Hopper: ::Giving him a slight shove:: Ugh, Nathan. With a dramatic sigh, Robin lay down, back flat against the rock, staring up at the sky. Straining her eyes, she could just see the setting sunlight glinting off the scattered starships filling Earth’s exosphere. Something about being on this planet made her feel tiny and insignificant. Maybe that was it – up there, she was Lieutenant Commander Robin Hopper. Chief Science Officer. Amity’s third in Command. Starfleet. Down here, with all that left behind, who was she? Just a girl… She glanced over at Nathan. …Who loved a boy. Her eyes moved back to the darkening sky. Hopper: I want to tell my grandparents first… If you don’t mind? Richards: Response Hopper: They’ll be beside themselves. Get ready for more family pictures and a lot of doting. ::Blinking:: Don’t let me let Nana talk me into wearing her old wedding pantsuit. I’d rather go Betazoid style. Her eyes darted back down to Nate’s face. Hopper: And that is not happening either. Richards: Response ((One week later – Hopper Residence, Minnesota, Earth)) Lynn: Well, hopefully it won’t take a Federation-wide tragedy to get you two back here on Earth again sometime soon… Don’t think I’m going to settle for holoimages of my granddaughter and her husband. Robin rolled her eyes in mock agitation while Lynn reached out and gave Nathan’s shoulder a squeeze. They’d packed what few belongings they had to bring back with them and, after a sizeable breakfast, had made their way onto the porch and down the front steps towards their transportation back to the nearest hub – and from there, it was back to Amity (save for a quick stopover in San Francisco for Nate to respond to Captain Rahman’s mysterious summons). Rick: Hey, don’t I keep telling you the poor man’s taken? Robin’s grandfather chuckled and gave the younger pair a cheeky wink before moving forward to shake Nathan’s hand. Rick: Welcome to the family, Lieutenant… And thanks for lookin’ out for our little Birdie. Hopper: ::Under her breath:: Papa… Richards: Response Robin stepped forward, wrapping her grandmother in an appreciative hug. Rick, patting Nathan on the arm, released him and made his way to join the family embrace, gingerly hugging his wife and grandaughter. Hopper: I’m glad we could come here. I don’t think there’s anywhere more healing for me, other than back home maybe. Lynn: Well, just don’t make a habit of it, dear. You be careful out there. Rick: You heard the woman. Mind you don’t take any more lumps, kiddo. With their departure time pressing, Robin broke from the hug and waved them both goodbye as she turned away, taking Nathan’s hand and beginning to walk down the little stone path to the nearby road. She gave his hand a little squeeze, then turned to him. Hopper: What are you feeling? Richards: Response She nodded. Hopper: A bit of everything, really. Excited. Scared. Proud. Embarrassed. ::Chuckling:: We’ve got six weeks to sort it out. By the time we get back maybe it’ll finally start to have ‘settled in’... In the meantime– She held up her left hand, admiring the ring that now encircled her finger. Hopper: ::A little smile:: Butterflies. Every time I think about it. Richards: Response

Writing the first MSNPC is always memorable. Doing it so well, with remarkable world building, and making us eager to see how this mission unfolds requires talent. But we all know @Gnai is one of the most talented writers in the Fleet. This is just another proof:

Some of the sims in here are eloquent explorations of grief, duty and the heroic ideal. Others are haunting introspective and brooding looks at pain and loss, both personal and profound. All laudable, sure, but as a counter-point to all that I offer this delightful fart joke, just now dropped in my lap by @Dekas, and thank him for flapping my way. =================================================== ((Quark’s Bar, Deep Space Nine)) Dekas woke up on the mischievous side of the bed that morning. And all the way through the day, into the evening, he had to fight the base urge to do something about it. He was the counselor. He was a staunch professional. He couldn’t possibly pull these things on strangers. So he was hoping not to run into anyone he knew. Except then he glanced over a scan of the room and saw Karrod Niac. Truly none the wiser about any of this urge. If Dekas was smart and reasonable, no one would ever know about this urge save for a passing telepath. oO Just go about your day, Dekas. Just keep walking. Just don’t even go in his direction. Oo By the time he finished the thought he’d already started heading in his direction. And he’d made eye contact. oO Dekas, please, we can talk about this. We have a good career right now, do you really want to risk that? Oo Dekas: Well, hello Karrod. It’s marvelous to see you! Niac: Response. He thought to himself now would be the perfect time to say “have a nice day, Captain, see you later.” He could have. He should have. It would have been the reasonable choice. And yet… Dekas: Oh, I’m doing lovely. No one’s sitting here, are they? Niac: Response Dekas: Well if you’re sure… He took the seat across from him. Dekas: So any fun plans during your stay here on DS9? I mean if you have any. Niac: Response Dekas nodded, definitely listening. Waiting for the perfect moment, where the sound in the area wasn’t too much, and so he could get away with glancing in another direction for a moment. The less than brightly colored area was perfect to potentially get away with it without him noticing. An inward nod, before he did as his people could do with near perfect sound mimicking… and made a fart noise. oO ::dramatically at himself:: Noooo. Oo Dekas: ::incredulously, as though he wasn’t the cause of the sound:: Captain… Niac: Response Tags / TBC… — (OOC 1: I do not typically add this many tags, but it was important for the moment here. OOC 2: This is inspired by the fact that parrots will not hesitate to make a fart noise at you if they know how. They know their crimes and they think it’s hilarious.) Lt. Commander Dekas Chief Counselor USS Ronin J239802D12 Pronouns: They/she (player), He/him (character)

I thought this was a really cute personification of the ship's computer; was a delight to read! @Alora DeVeau

((Suite J-32, Junior Officer Temporary Quarters, Habitat Ring, Deep Space 9)) Mirkl, quite used to feeling and looking embarrassed himself, easily spotted the blushing cheeks of his fellow ensign. He didn’t see any reason to be embarrassed about any holodeck escapades. He could probably benefit from taking a break from reality every now and then. Zanti: I haven’t played much on the holodeck. What program were you running? Bad choice of words. “Play” sounded more childish than he had intended. He could see the color drain from her face. He had definitely said the wrong thing. God, why couldn’t he form sentences to correctly match the ideas and sentiments in his head. What was wrong with him? After what felt like an eternity, she responded, somewhat sheepishly. Lacy: Star Conflict, Episode One. Like I said, I heard some others talking about it and I— Zanti: It looks fun. He had almost blurted out his thought. From filtering and garbling too much, to too blunt. The engineer looked back up at the Trill with a hard-to-read expression on her face. Had he made things better? Or worse? Lacy: It was. I can send you the library index code for it, if you like. Mirkl nodded enthusiastically–maybe too enthusiastically–and added what he intended to be a reciprocal offer. Zanti: I come from a part of Trill that has what humans might call onsen. I have a program that replicates a famous one that I grew up near, if you’re ever interested. After having made some kind of headway in the awkward conversation, Ensign Lacy’s brow suddenly furrowed. Her eyes narrowed. Her spine stiffened. Lacy: You're… inviting me to a public bath? Mirkl blushed even harder. That’s not what he had meant. Zanti: No! Well, I mean. Uhh… I can share– Like you said– If you want– Why wouldn’t his words form coherent sentences? This was torture. How could he dig his way out of this one? And fast? Yet… Lacy: I'm sor— ::giggling:: I'm sorry! You— ::cackle:: Mirkl was unsure as to what was happening. Why was she laughing? Shouldn’t she be horribly offended? Zanti: Umm… I’m sorry? Lacy: It's not funny! ::laughing:: No, it's— ::throat clearing:: Mm. No. Not funny. ::hint of a giggle, forcefully stopped:: Right. Mirkl began to smile. Thankfully she seemed to realize his true intentions, despite his mouth’s best efforts to betray him. Zanti: ::chuckling weakly:: Huh, I’m glad you– you found it so funny. She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. Lacy: I hear they're very relaxing. The baths. Maybe she had experienced something as embarrassing in the past from the other side, because she sure seemed to know how to smooth things over. Zanti: ::too quickly and loudly:: They are! Very. Not the Hoobishan Baths, but not as overrated, either. Lacy: I'll take you up on it. I'd like to visit. ::beat, smirk:: Alone. Zanti: ::nodding:: Of course. Of course. We’ll do an exchange of programs! It’ll be great. Lacy: Response Mirkl asked a question that had been nagging the back of his mind since the beginning of the conversation. Zanti: Um, you mentioned yourself and your roommate, who’s gone to Vulcan. Do you know who my roommate is? Have you met him? ::beat:: It is a “him,” right? Lacy: Response Zanti: Ah, I see. Lacy: Response Zanti: So… what else do you do for fun? Does the Khitomer have any unique traditions I should be aware of? He was changing topics too quickly and abruptly. He knew it. He needed to get away and to his bedroom as quickly as possible. He was so in his own head, he could barely focus on his suitemate's responses. Zanti: oO Breathe, just breathe. Oo Lacy: Response TAG! TBC… Ensign Mirkl Zanti Science Officer USS Khitomer T238407S10

((Suite J-32, Junior Officer Temporary Quarters, Habitat Ring, Deep Space Nine)) It took eight straight days of volunteering every one of her waking hours for repair duty, until 's one faceless counselor got avoid of her records and rejected Ensign Lacy's request, with a stern note that vaguely hinted at an order to relax for at least five minutes. She had a good run. It might have been cut short much sooner, if she hadn't been careful to alternate shifts between the Khitomer and the Ronin. But all good things must come to an end, and Ginny found herself awake with nothing constructive to do. And so, she decided to try something new. She'd overheard a few crewmen on the Ronin discussing a new holoseries. “Space Conflict Episode I,” which despite its title was oddly the fourth to be released. To Ginny’s ears, the fantasy series about space wizards and knights with laser swords sounded silly, but the longer the thought lingered in her mind, the more her curiosity grew. So she tried it, falling into the role of a lasersword-wielding wizard-knight. It was difficult, at first, but she found refuge in the fictional monastic order's rigid ideology that discouraged attachments and elevated duty above all else. It was from this simulation that Ginny returned to her assigned temporary quarters, still clad in the costume befit for the holonovel. She was concealed beneath flowing robes of off-whites and warm browns. And when she stepped into the suite's common area, she was startled to find an unfamiliar face. A long pause followed as Ginny decided how best to address her attire, but the young man seemed unfazed. Zanti: Greetings, I’m Zanti. ::beat:: Err, Ensign Mirkl Zanti, that is. She drew back her costume’s wide hood to reveal her dark brown hair wrapped in a tight bun. The light of the room hinted at faint reddish hues as her green eyes considered the Trill. Lacy: ::slowly:: Ensign Imogen Lacy. ::beat:: Most call me Ginny. Zanti: Are you also assigned to these quarters? oO Obviously… Oo Her forehead furrowed at the question. Why else would she be there? One eyebrow tugged up towards her hairline as she pondered whether to give the young man a hard time about it. Owing to her mild embarrassment at the precise manner in which she was out of uniform, Ginny decided to play it safe. Lacy: I'm assigned to that room over there. ::pointing:: With Ensign Michaels, but she mentioned she'd be going to Vulcan. I'm not sure if she's back yet. The suite was co-ed, but at least in this particular unit the bedrooms were not. And Ginny wasn't sure why she was divulging so much information about her temporary roommate unprompted. Zanti: How long have you been stationed here? Are you also from Khitomer? Lacy: I'm in Engineering, under Commander Dewitt. ::thoughtfully:: Michaels is, too. Again with the Michaels thing! By this point Ginny had entered the common area, and was, well, disrobing. Underneath, she wore loose tan pants tucked into cloth boots, and a flowing white tunic held together by a sash tied at her waist. She wasn't sure why space wizard-knights needed so many layers, but as with all things she endeavored to authenticity. Zanti: I see… Do you know how many others live here? She folded the robe around her forearms, and leaned against the top of an armchair-back. Lacy: You're the fourth. ::awkward pause:: So… three. Her eyebrows emphasized the answer, as it felt like the logistical questions were beginning to wear thin. She was certainly not anyone's choice for Khitomer’s Chief Conversationalist, but even she could see that this train was running out of track. Zanti: Response Another lull. Ginny cleared her throat. Lacy: Which department? ::beat:: Yours, I mean. Which department… are you in…? Zanti: Response Lacy: Ah. Then I'm sure we will be working together, sooner or later. ::beat:: The science department is always breaking things, which we go fix. That's what the, um, Engineers are for. Which I am. An Engineer. So… Conversation! Words! Saying things! Ginny prayed it would be over soon and she could retreat to her bedroom, curl into the fetal position, and stay that way until the sweet release of the universe’s heat death. Why did people-things have to be so difficult? It was much easier when everyone hated and ignored her. She'd have to find a way back to that. Zanti: Response And there it was. Things had gone so very well when neither one of them acknowledged that she was dressed like a space vagrant. And by “so very well,” it was meant “embarrassingly,” but she estimated that the longer the conversation ran on, the nearer “utter disaster” reached certainty. Lacy: Oh! This! The robes. I, well… I don't usually go in for holonovels. But I wanted to try this one I heard of, and they say it's better to, um, wear your own… it's silly. Her cheeks flushed red. Who was she? Where did Imogen Lacy, full of confidence and spite, go off to, and why had little Ginny in the ugly yellow flower dress taken her place? Nobody asked for you, Ginny! She vowed then and there to never wear anything but a duty uniform, in every circumstance, in every occasion. That was her armor, and she didn't like the feeling of being without it. Zanti: Response Tags/TBC ——— Ensign Imogen “Ginny” Lacy Engineering Officer as simmed by Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart Executive Officer USS Khitomer (NCC-62400) A240001NH3

I love the interaction @TAma had with her future inlaws as written by @Quentin Beck It explains so much about the good doctor.

((Vahin Family Compound, Undersea Habitat 12, Kisaran Ocean, Bolarus IX)) After a quick transfer at DS9, Vahin had finally made it back to Bolarus IX and in a matter of moments would be seeing his mother Osi in person for the first time since she received the diagnosis that she had mendaxic neurosclerosis. The silicon-based disease was fatal, and so far, there was no cure. It was believed that an active positronic matrix would be the key to unlocking the mysteries of this disease but the attack on Mars in 2385 had put an end to that. It wasn’t until just recently, with the ban overturned, that research could once more begin in full. The Vahin family compound didn’t look much different from the last time Vahin had been there. He was sure, that if he checked, his small apartment would look exactly how he had left it. But for now, he wanted nothing more than to see his mother. He had purposely avoided telling the rest of his family he was visiting, he loved them, but his trip was a short one and he wanted to focus on his mother. He pressed his hand to the doorpad outside his parent’s apartment and walked through the door as it slid open. As the familiar sights and sounds of his childhood home hit his senses he was overcome with a wave of memories. There was the spot he and his twin sister Arixu use to pretend they were undersea explorers. There was where his older twin brothers Drevu and Dasiu used to playfight much to their parent’s annoyance. A pot bubbled on the stove and the apartment was filed with the smell of stewing fish; no doubt one of his father’s delicious concoctions. Vahin’s stomach grumbled but he walked past the kitchen to the back of the apartment where his parents’ room was located. As he reached their door he softly knocked. From the other side of the door he heard his father Aram’s voice telling him to enter. Vahin walked into the room to find his father sitting next to their bed holding his mother’s hand. His mother’s eyes were closed and her chest slowly raised and lowered as she breathed. Aram: ::quietly:: Araxxu! We didn’t know you were coming. His father gave his mother’s hand a gentle kiss before standing and embracing Vahin in a tight hug. Aram: It’s so good to see you in person. We missed you. He closed his eyes and returned his father’s hug. For a moment he felt like a child again; safe in the arms of a parent he knew would always protect him. But as he opened his eyes he saw his mother laying in bed and he knew those days were far behind him. Vahin: How is she today? His mother looked much frailer than last time he had spoken with her. He noticed her skin was a paler blue then normal and she had lost weight. It was odd seeing her laying in bed. She was normally awake more hours in a day than she slept, if not at work then puttering around the compound tending the plants or helping family members with whatever they were working on. Aram: Today…today is not a good day. She is very weak. His father looked over at Osi and for a moment it seemed like the man would begin to cry. He took Vahin’s hand and led him over to the seat at his mother’s bedside. Aram: Sit, sit. I have a stew to tend. She will be so happy to see you when she wakes. Vahin took a seat and reached out to take his mother’s hand in his. Her hand felt so small and fragile in his but also familiar and he wished he never had to let go of it. They sat like that for some time. Minutes went by and he simply watched her sleep. The grown-up doctor in him had left and he was simply a boy who loved and missed his mother. He felt the tears begin to slide down his face. Osi: ::softly:: Oh Arax. So, like your father. With his free hand he wiped away the tears and tried to compose himself as he smiled down at his mother. Osi: I’m so happy you came. Have you seen Ari? Vahin: Not yet mother. I came to see you first. Osi: Well as you can see I’m perfectly fine. She began to chuckle but soon the chuckle turned to coughing and Vahin handed her a glass of water that sat next to the bed. Osi: ::she drank then handed the glass back:: Thank you Arax. Vahin: Mother I’m sorry I’m not here more. I want… Osi: Hush dear. You have important things to do. Exploring the Ring. How exciting. Bolarus was never going to be enough for you. I’m so happy you joined Star Fleet. Tears began to well up behind Vahin’s eyes and he tried to blink them away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small box that Commodore Oddas had given him only a few days ago. He opened it and held it out for his mother to see. Vahin: They promoted me. I’m a full Lieutenant and they made me Acting Chief Medical Officer. Osi reached out and took the pip box in her frail, shaking hands. She ran a finger over the shiny pips before she looked up at Vahin and smiled. Osi: Oh Arax. How wonderful. ::cough:: I’m happy that Commodore Oddas sees how hard you’re working. Vahin: Thank you mother. She’s a great leader, one of the best in Star Fleet. Osi: Now tell me all about what you’ve been up to on Denali. How is Drex? When will he come visit? What about Kettick, he didn’t hurt himself again did he? I know Remmilian’s are tough but tell him I worry about him. Vahin smiled as his mother spoke about the crew of Denali Station. It was just like her to remember all the names of everyone he had every mentioned to her. He was glad that, so far, the disease that was destroying her body had left her mind intact. Vahin: Drex sends his regards. He wanted to come on this trip but it was such a quick turn around. I’ll see if he can come next time. Kettick is good, Alix patched him up really well from last time he got hurt. His mother gives Vahin a loving pat on the hand. Osi: I know it was hard when Dr Harford was transferred. It’s never easy losing someone you enjoy spending time with. Vahin: oO I don’t want to lose you either. Oo Osi: But what about Commander DeVeau? I hope you have pictures of that darling child of hers. And what about that counselor Strathmore and Lt Commander Falt? They’re doing well I hope. Vahin: It’s Commander Falt now and yes mother, they’re all doing well. Osi began to try and sit up more in bed and Vahin reached forward to help her. Osi: Well, we have time before your father’s stew is done and I’m not going anywhere. So why don’t you tell you mother all about what’s been going on around Denali. I could use some excitement. I love your father but his stories about the water reclamation system in hydroponics aren’t exactly thrilling. And so, sitting next to his mother’s bed, his hand in hers, Vahin spent the next few hours telling her all about life on Denali and the crew there that he thought of as family. NT/END <><><><><><><><><><>=/\=<><><><><><><><><><> Lt Jg Araxxu Vahin Medical Denali Station D240006AV3

((Drex’s quarters - 38th Floor, Soldotna)) The days had passed quickly after his return from the routine mission to improve communications within the Ring. The unpleasant experience in the parallel universe had caused Drex to spend much of his free time studying subjects outside his speciality. The amount of work, however, was excessive, and he had ended up in Commander DeVeau's office with the utopian expectation of receiving a magic formula that would free him from the discomfort of ignorance. In what little free time he had left after returning from the boat trip with Araxxu, Falt and the new Ensign Tanner, he had tried to make himself useful by looking after little Shyla whenever Alora needed a good night's sleep. So, hour after hour, day after day, he had spent little time in his apartment and neglected to call home. In the end, however, he had had to give in to the call of hibernation, and when he had found himself at home with nothing to do, he had called Ayra before going to bed. Ayra: You’re still wearing the pendant… :: The tone halfway between question and observation :: Drex lowered his gaze to look at the metal disk hanging on his chest. It was a silly superstition, but harmless. And he liked the shape and color. Drex: Won’t harm. Ayra nodded. From so far away there was little she could do for her brother. She had asked him to come home and even thought about visiting him on Denali herself, but Drex had categorically refused both options. Gods knew who he wanted to impress by being tough! Ayre: Are you resting at least? Drex looked back at the monitor and smiled. Drex: Yes, I am. And I’m ready to hibernate. :: He straightened his shoulders, showing off his pajamas.:: What about you? When will I be an uncle? Ayra caressed her belly gently, returning the smile. Ayra: Two more months at least… Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl? Drex: I already know! :: He smiled slyly :: Ayra: You do? Who told you? :: She frowned :: Drex: Nobody… I bet is a girl. You look so beautiful and bright. It has to be a girl! That was one of their mother’s theories: girls would make the mother prettier. And supporting this theory was the fact that Lora had never made a wrong prediction. Years before, when the family held a bet about the first pregnancy of Dania, Drex searched for a scientific explanation. With his own surprise he even found a valid reason in the production of male hormones in the fetus. Nevertheless he was far from his mother's infallibility. Ayra: :: Nodding :: We’ll name her Meli. :: She took a brief pause :: How's it going over there? I tried to call you more than once in the last week, but you’re always busy. What’re you up to? Drex shrugged slightly. Drex: The usual. Working, studying… I’ve been out trying the boat. Ayra: I saw her out of water. Dad was filling her with all the scanners she could take. Drex: Yeah, way too many… Will he really analyze all that data? The whole Ring is artificial, what does he hope to gain? This time it was Ayra the one who shrugged. Ayra: I’ve no idea. He didn’t involve me in this. Drex: Of course he didn’t :: He smiled slyly :: He knows you’ll tell me what he’s up to, but please inform me if he leaves Kalus. I don’t want to find him knocking at my door. The woman giggled and nodded. Ayra: I will. So… any news? Drex: About what? Ayra: About anything… Dominique or any other… Drex shocked his head. Drex: Pregnancy is making you worse than Ral, you know , don’t you? Ayra: Oh, come on! Don't think I'm going to imbibe the story you've been studying all day! As Ayra bended towards the display, Drex turned his eyes away. Out of the window, clouds had covered the sun and the evening was darkening fast. Ayra: Ah ah! What is it? No, no… Who! is it? Drex: I think I have to go now. :: He moved as to interrupt the call :: Ayra: Don’t you dare Drex or you'll have to worry not only about dad at the door. He did not let her finish her threat. The display went dark. The notification of a new incoming call began to ring a second after. He ignored it and, getting up, went to the window. With the clouds gathering in the sky, rain was not long in coming. The first drops wet the window and Drex followed one of them with his finger along the glass. If he had been smarter, he would have told her something about Dominique. Now she would have tormented him until she got the truth. Lucky, he will have five to six days to hope her own business would distract her enough to leave him alone. oO Credeghe… she’ll find out, just tell her now. Oo He chose a new drop to follow. Drex: It ain’t any of her business. The notification finally went off. oO Safe for now. But you’re hiding from yourself. Oo Drex: I’m not. I just need to go to sleep. oO Liar. You like her. Oo Drex: ::Taking a deep breath:: I… don’t. And you know it. And we know it’s complicated. She’s a good friend, at least, I hope we can be friends. The Denobulan took his finger off the glass and closed his hand. oO I know. Then why are you so scared of Ayra? Oo Drex: Because I know her. She won’t believe I’ve changed so much to babysit someone else's child. oO But you are. And you’re doing great. She told you more than once. Oo Walking towards the bed, he touched the environmental controls, plunging the bedroom into darkness. He needed to sleep. The surreal conversation he was having with himself was clear evidence of the confused state his mind had now entered. He crawled into bed and curled up on his side, finally closing his eyes. There was only one woman he was in love with, and she was on Denobula. And the five years he had been away have not changed that. NT/END ============ Lieutenant Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

Absolutely loved this SIM from @Marty Tucker and his Pops ( @Karrod Niac). I do love these little insights into characters and relationships with their family members, especially when it helps inform who they are. Wonderful!

You know how in wrestling there is the concept of "putting over" your fellow performers for the good of the whole? @Quentin Beck is so, so, so good at putting over his fellow simmers. Every character and situation they interact with always come away better, this latest sim with my character it just the latest example. ((Intensive Care Unit, Infirmary, Promenade, Deep Space 9.)) Beck: New idea. You wanna keep the scar, let's make it look good. This is gonna be a lot more primitive, but will give you more what you want, I think. Real frontier medicine. Carpenter: You had me at "primitive". What do you have in mind, Q? His gut feeling had been a correct one, confirmed by her wolfish grin and quick response. Leaning down to open up a small compartment, he slipped his hand inside and pulled out a needle and some medical-grade thread. Quentin pretended not to notice the attractive way her cheeks and neck flushed completely at this suggestion. Beck: I stitch this up just a little too tight and you'll have a brand new railroad scar. It'll take longer to heal, and it'll sting like hell, buuuut…. She nodded maybe a little too quickly at that, and although the red had mostly faded from her face, her cheeks were still a little rosy in that way that betrayed some excitement. Carpenter: You ain't gonna break me, Doc. He had to bite back his initial response, which… definitely would have been way too forward, even as a joke, and very likely would have brought the color back to her face and neck again. Grinning, Quentin unspooled a little bit of thread so he could slip it through the needle's eye, then moved closer to her. Beck: This is gonna take a little longer to stitch up, too. Hope that's okay. Carpenter: I got nowhere to be. Plus, gives me more time for my answer, I suppose... His eyes glimmered with amusement at that response, his brow arching keenly as he looked up at her briefly before focusing his attention once more on the split in her side that he was supposed to be stitching up. He laid his good hand against her skin, fingers slightly spread, to keep the scar tissue that already existed from bunching up, and after carefully lining up the needle, he pierced through the lower portion of healthy skin and then through the higher portion, pulling the thread gingerly but allowing it to have a little bit of slack so he could make the first throw. Beck: Sounds to me like you're stalling for time, Carpenter. :: eying her again with a smirk:: Then again, I've already started. And I always intend to finish what I start. The fingers of the prosthetic hand moved deftly, not faster than his original hand would have but perhaps a bit more precisely; Ohnari had been right, it hadn't taken much time at all for him to get used to the interface. It was almost like he hadn't lost the hand at all. He made the second throw, then the third, cut off the excess thread, then looped it through the needle to repeat the process a little further up the split. He pierced the needle through her skin again. It was impossible not to notice the way she shuddered with the way his hand was pressed against her side. Carpenter: No, I ain't welchin'. You held up your end, I intend to hold up mine. It's just...I ain't sure where I should start. Beck: Most people start at the beginning. Sometimes you can start at the end, but then you've got to start cutting to flashbacks and that can get pretty convoluted pretty quickly, y'know. She snorted. Carpenter: Yeah, thanks, smartmouth. If'in that's how you wanna do it, I should start by sayin' a lotta people didn't believe me at first. And also didn't realize how much I could hear in one'a them....::she twirled her free hand impatiently:: what're they called? The tank things? He paused in his work, arching a brow as he looked up at her curiously, then rolled his eyes upward thoughtfully. Beck: A hibernation chamber? Carpenter: Yeah, that's it. It all started with them talking about me like I wasn't there… Quentin finished the second suture, cutting the thread again and lifting his hand from her back so he could thread the needle again while she started the story. He listened intently, very curious to know more, though he kept the majority of his focus on the sutures he was delivering. His fingertips traced gently and slowly up her side as he worked, making sure to keep the skin as flat as he could so he could bring the tissue together as closely as possible; he also made sure to do as promised, the third throw always just a little bit too tight, but not so much the stitches would start to pull. Comparatively speaking, Quentin's life had been boring as all hell in comparison to just this story; he was a little surprised Kirsty was willing to open herself up like this for something that had obviously grown to define who she was as a person, what her goals were, what justice she sought. And while there was a part of him that did think she was a little crazy for wanting to keep the scars, and another part of him that did think she was very brave to face something like that and somehow stay on this side of sane… mostly he thought he understood her reasoning. The stereotype was always the Chief of Tac/Sec was a hardass who bore their scars as reminders of past victories, of challenges overcome; and while Kirsty certainly qualified as the former, he could see right away that these scars were not trophies, meant to trumpet those she had defeated in battle. They were an epitaph. By the time she was through, he'd completed nearly all of the sutures. She'd been focused enough on telling the story she hadn't shuddered the same way throughout, which left him feeling both relieved and maybe just a little disappointed, but he was honored she'd felt comfortable enough with him to share… that. That deep, dark secret of herself that didn't show up in her medical logs, wasn't available in any notes. He figured she was careful about what she let doctors do as it would be a lot easier to avoid questions in the first place rather than having to pick and choose what to say, and how to explain it. It left him feeling warm in his belly. Carpenter: So, from then on, any time I had something significant happen to me, I kept it there. My body, my truth. Nobody was going to tell ME what I had gone through ever, ever again. He nodded slowly, teeth scraping his lower lip. Beck: You decided to be the author of your own story, and you were gonna take what they did and make it your own. Her head dipped slightly in a shallow nod and when she finally looked at him again, he could tell it hadn't been easy for her to share that with him. Even if he'd somehow earned some measure of trust from her. Carpenter: And it's all I have left of them. Quentin was silent for a moment as he studied her, not quite sure what to say. He wasn't sure there was anything he could really say to comfort her, if that was even what she needed. Beck: I'm sorry you went through all of that. And sorry there's crummy enough people out there to try to pin it all on you. That's not fair in the slightest. ::a beat:: Y'know, I already had a helluva lot of respect for you, Kirsty, but hearing that and seeing this… I can't begin to tell you how in awe I am of you. Carpenter: Response He turned his attention back to her side, teeth worrying the corner of his lip as he laid his hand against her so he could deliver the next suture. He hesitated only briefly before piercing the skin again and since she wasn't distracted by the story anymore, she shuddered as she had for the first suture. Beck: ::voice soft:: You okay there, Chief? Carpenter: Response The corner of his mouth twitched a little wryly before he shrugged slightly, tongue wetting his lower lip thoughtfully. Beck: I just couldn't help but notice you seem to be… enjoying this a little more than most of my patients would. Carpenter: Response He snickered. Beck: No judgment. Just making a mental note to always put up a privacy screen for you if you need stitches again. And make sure I've got plenty of needles and thread on hand. Carpenter: Response Tags/TBC Lieutenant JG Quentin Beck Acting Chief Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0 Original Link: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-ronin/c/XVx6Dx5pOaM

Such a good start to Brent's practical mission! Bravo, @Avander Promontory and @Josh Herrick!

(( Because I very much enjoy reading "Dark Laria" aka Kidha )) ((Bridge - Deck 1, USS Constitution-B)) Herren: Computer, Emergency Program 47. Herren 5-9-2-3-Zeta-Epsilon. As Kidha issued the command, they were on their feet and crossing the bridge towards the OPS console. They removed the concealed Type-1 phaser that the real Commander Herren had been carrying. Emergency Program 47, something they had quietly dropped into the ship’s computer, did exactly what it was supposed to do. It locked out the consoles on the bridge without their prearranged access code. T’Seva/Ch’Nilmani: Response Ignoring the duo of senior officers and their concerns, they finished crossing the bridge to be near one of the turbolifts and the ready room in case an escape route was needed. The Human woman at OPS (a different Human than the prior woman sitting at the OPS console when she was last at the bridge), looked up from the console in confusion. They reached out and grabbed her by the back of her collar and pulled her to her feet to stand in front of them. Anderson: Commander? A Vulcan man, who seemed like a tactical or security officer who had been milling around since the chief was on the bridge, was quick to get into action and point a phaser at them. Kidha grinned, amused by the solid. Siann: Commander, stand down or- The Vulcan junior tactical officer didn’t finish his command. The phaser beam made contact and the disruption effects of its maximum setting promptly disintegrated him into his component atoms. There was a moment’s scream before silence and an empty space where the goldshirt had previously stood. Which left three other officers still standing, along with the ops officer. Not the most comfortable odds. Herren: ::Her face twisted into a smile:: No respect for the chain of command, that one. While Kidha had the little “cricket” phaser at the ready, they didn’t particularly care who was being aimed at. Ideally, they would have gotten the first officer off the bridge. Leave some junior officers to handle before seizing control of the vessel. But the contingency was never the ideal scenario. Ultimately, they weren’t sure where things would go from there. Maybe the solids would retreat. Maybe Kidha would have to retreat. It didn’t really matter. Whatever was going on with their brothers and sisters, the ship’s systems had been secured. Formerly Lieutenant Commander Herren kept a tight grip on the operations officer as she tried to pull away. She looked between the first officer and tactical chief, curious what they would do next. T’Seva: I don't believe we have actually met. Oh, yes, so very clever of the chief tactical officer. Maybe the second officer who murdered someone in cold blood was an imposter. Did the Bajoran/Vulcan tactician want a gold star for figuring that one out? Kidha sneered at her dismissively. T'Seva: So...how about we talk about what you want? Herren: Well, at this point, I’m afraid I’m going to need you all to vacate your positions aboard the ship. Permanently. The impulsive desire to fire a grazing shot at one of the solids was nearly overwhelming. But they resisted it for the moment. There would be time enough to kill the solids after toying with the pair of officers doing the talking a bit. T'Seva: Tactically, you are on your own. Your emergency code will be dealt with soon enough. So...what do you want? What do you hope to get from this? Well… there was something to be said for confidence. Herren: On my own? On the contrary, T’Seva. We could be anywhere. You think I came alone? Besides, I think you’ll find this new emergency code to be rather… robust. You’d be amazed what you can do with the commanding officer’s access. Ch'Nilmani: And :: Nodding towards where the man had been earlier. :: That was a mistake. Kidha followed his head nod to the space formerly occupied by the defiant Vulcan. Oh boo hoo, somebody who didn’t know how to surrender to a superior foe had been disintegrated. A mistake on the Vulcan’s part, not Kidha’s. Herren: I’m not going to lose any sleep over a dead solid who forgot his place. T'Seva: Response Ch'Nilmani: Where's the real Herren? If you hurt a hair on her or anyone else of my crew, I'm going to be very unstarfleet when it comes to dealing with you. It was a difficult question to answer. Both of the command Trills had been unceremoniously dumped in a sensor-proofed maintenance junction beneath the captain’s office down on the station in case any more intelligence could be extracted from them. But Kidha didn’t want to say something that would cast suspicion on the outpost. The crew couldn’t know for sure how long Herren and Rajel had been replaced. So obviously, a lie was called for. But what to say? The changeling pondered that briefly. T'Seva: Response They decided on a tone for the answer. Mock sympathy followed by something guaranteed to really upset the first officer and throw him off his game. It was clear that the Starfleet officers were not eager to turn things into a firefight so the threat of behaving in a very unstarfleet like manner was an empty one to Kidha’s mind. Unless Ch’Nilmani intended to rush the armed person and get vaporized especially easily. Herren: Awww, are we worried about our Trills? ::Beat:: If it’s any consolation, I don’t think any part of her hurt. Not for long. If you clean out the nacelle plasma stream filters you might find a bit of her. Some stray particles here and there. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Kidha decided to spill what plans she had for the bridge crew, phrased as a story. Herren: Listen, listen. Calm down. I have a plan. The news from Frontier Day was so distressing that the bridge crew began to suspect each other of being assimilated by the Borg and turned on one another. There were no survivors. And I’ll reluctantly take my place as first officer. The implication was clear. They would all be killed. Which was a real shame. Ideally, only the first officer would have to die for “Laria Herren” to replace him. But unexpected circumstances demanded sudden and aggressive action. So all of them would have to meet the same fate as the idiot Vulcan. The Human in front of them was starting to breathe faster. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Herren: It seems like the entire ship is going a bit mad. Which is the beauty of the whole Frontier Day attack. Everyone will be so distraught by the deaths of everyone on Earth that Commodore Rajel and I will be able to keep this crew quite ineffective in the aftermath. Let the assimilated fleet spread across the Federation and finish what was started so long ago. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response As Kidha listened, there was a sharp impact to their stomach. The operations officer was trying to wiggle free and grab control of the phaser. That didn’t work out for her. The changeling quickly tightened their arm around the ops officer and squeezed. Infuriated by the meager escape attempt, they hissed out a threat while dreaming of all the nasty ways the Human woman could meet her end. Herren: Do that again and you’ll wish you were disintegrated. The operations officer whimpered slightly as Kidha tightened their grasp to send a painful signal that it was better for her to comply. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Not Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Not Mission Specialist/Not Second Officer USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

((Federation Refugee Services, Ring 2, DS9)) Zenno double checked that he was in the right place and then entered the office. It was quite spacious with a large waiting room, a row of desks, and a large computer display hanging from a bracket in the corner that looked like it was about to fail spectacularly. A Zakdorn functionary sat behind the reception desk. Zenno made his approach. Zenno: Greetings. The Zakdorn seemed engrossed in his PADD and said nothing. Zenno: ::clears throat:: Greetings. I wish to inquire about a refugee child named Sabira and her companion Mister Quirkle-Birkle. They were displaced from Deep Space 33 after the recent invasion. The Bolian waited and the Zakdorn made no move, but continued to read his PADD. Zenno: Hello? With a snuff, the man at the desk reached out at patted a sign: “Take a Number.” All the while he was still reading his PADD. Zenno looked around and the office was completely empty besides him and the Zakdorn. Zenno looked at the number dispenser and took a slip. He held it up. Zenno: I have a number. May you help with my inquiry? The Zakdorn grunted, put down his PADD with deliberate and exaggerated slowness. Clerk: Now serving… Number 3 at Desk 4. Zenno looked at his slip. It had a large 38 on it. He looked up at the Zakdorn, then back at the slip. So be it. He took a seat in the waiting area. Clerk: Last call for Number 3. ::Beat:: Now serving Number 4 at Desk 4… ((Timeskip)) Zenno sat with his head in his hands. He would have come back later, but he was sure that this person would have used it against him in some way. Clerk:: Now serving… Number 37 at Desk 4. Number 37? No number 37? Very well. Zenno stood up since he was next. But it was not to be. The functionary closed a little glass slider on his desk and put up a sign: “Out to lunch” Zenno slouched back into the chair and rolled his eyes. ((Timeskip)) In the interregnum, no one else had come into the office. But the clerk sat at his desk and had eaten a lunch of some raw fish, avocados, and what looked like unsalted Karugu nuts. Clerk: Now serving.. let’s see here. Where did I stop? ::hums:: 37? Now serving 37? No no, that wasn’t it. Now serving Number 38 at Desk 4. Glad to be getting somewhere, Zenno went to the desk. Zenno: Greetings. I wish to inquire about a refugee child named Sabira and her companion Mister Quirkle-Birkle. They were displaced from Deep Space 33 after the recent invasion. The clerk sighed and looked at his computer console. Clerk: Are you the next of kin? Zenno: No, she doesn’t have next of kin as far as I know. At least, none that were on the station. There might be others elsewhere. The Zakdorn hit the power button on his screen and picked up his PADD. Clerk: Information can only be given to next of kin. Privacy issues. Please take our survey ::points to survey PADD:: to help us improve. Thanks for visiting Federation Refugee Services. Have a nice starday. Zenno wondered if there were any words he could use to convince this clerk to help him. Deciding that there were none he briefly considered some other options, but they were all just a mental exercise to relieve the tension that this clerk had created in Zenno’s head. Deciding he had to use some other avenues, he left and headed back to his quarters. END/NT LT Zenno Security Chief USS Khitomer A240006Z13

I love it when we get to the awards, and I love that we do it differenly every single time it comes around at the end of shore leave. Sometimes we go for a really intimate one on one, or one on two scenes and sometimes we get the whole ship involved. This time around we are going for the latter. Awards are also a great time for you to do a audit of who you have simmed with and who is left to reach out to and start a scene. They are also a great time to layout what your characters relationship is with each individual character and maybe even set up some future plot lines. Today, @Morro Caras does that masterfully. I knew, right away, who was important to Morro, I learned more about Morro's background and what these awards means to him.

The descriptions @Xiron added to the bar really brought this place to life. The two Frenegi honoring the 1929 Stock Market Crash is comedic gold.

Just endlessly impressed by the scope and talented simming on display here. Incredible work, @Lhandon_Nilsen, @Kimonzi Lahl, @Josh Herrick, @Avander Promontory, @Morro Caras, @Erik Johnson,and @Alora DeVeau!

STARFLIRT. IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING ON THE ARTEMIS! @Gila Sadar has brought in the poshest-of-posh representatives, and she is trying her damndest to break through the perception that a career in Starfleet has to put your love-life on hold. I'm so excited to see where this goes, and I LOVE her introduction.

Today, I made Lieutenant, but I wouldn’t have gotten there if it wasn’t for both my former mentor, @VLen Kel, when we were back on the Oumumuma, and my newer mentor, @Avander Promontory . Both have been sources of inspiration for me throughout my time here so far and have put up with all of my half-baked ideas and crazy schemes, helping me to find some semblance of sense in them, plan out my long-term storylines, and just being around when I need them. You're support and encouragement have been second to none and I feel like I have my own cheerleading team hyping Special shout out to @Alora DeVeau @Erik Johnson and @Josh Herrick who have been a mega source of support. They are three people who I often lean on or share the first draft of my ideas with. They have both had to put up with my shenanigans and been pulled into God knows how many schemes I’ve come up with. But more than that, I'm proud to call you all my friends. You folks rock, and I love you all. Right, that's enough sappy stuff, I'm now going to go back to writing some angsty teen drama that would air on the CW network.

It's nice to see @Gila Sadar settle in nicely while guesting and getting to know @Karrod Niac 😂 being tortured by Captains is becoming a true personality trait!

I lost it on the toolbox contents. (( Security Complex, Deck 11, U.S.S. Chin’toka )) Is’Kah entered the security complex, a PADD in one hand and a toolbox in the other. The office was rather busy for being in Spacedock, but that was one thing that always surprised her. One would think they really didn’t have much of a job, but as the crew proved on Frontier Day, it was better to have a full complement on duty, or else the ship would be swiped again. The Trican found the layout familiar, heading right for the office of the Chief of Security. She found it in the same location that Lieutenant Commander Carpenter had hers on the Ronin. The refit's similarities to the original were striking, but she continued to be thrown off when she discovered the differences. She pressed the chime to McGillian’s office. McGillian: Response Entering, Is’Kah wore her Vulcan mask and greeted Mac with a slight nod. Is’Kah: Good Day, Ensign McGillian. I wish to discuss a few things with you that will be pertinent to both of our futures. First, we will discuss the tools in this box. The ship's rumor mill suggests that you needed something like this. McGillian: Response After handing over the PADD she brought, Is’Kah placed the red metal box on Mac’s desk before opening it. Inside were a half-dozen wooden stakes. Is’Kah: Special delivery for one Van Helsing: In case Count Vulcula reappears, you’ll have proper weapons available. I hand-carved these just for you. McGillian: Response Is’Kah: A couple of other things that PADD had the report made by Doctor Beck on the Ronin regarding my preexisting conditions when I joined Starfleet, which includes my mechanical teeth. It also contains the report on the damage done by Borg T’Ama when she slapped me into next week, resulting in multiple ways the mechanisms were disabled. This should leave you with no more lingering security concerns regarding me, at least regarding this matter. McGillian: Response Is’Kah: I am a security risk to any away team due to my lack of knowledge of self-defense. On the Ronin, I attempted to teach myself hand-to-hand combat and with weapons. Commander Carpenter found me one night and forbade me from going to the Holodeck alone after that. She was going to teach me how to fight without dislocating body parts again and to prevent myself from getting killed or causing the death of others. Would it be possible to continue my training with you? McGillian: Response Is’Kah: I have nothing more than the standard cadet training. ::tilts head:: that is not exactly true. I have access to Andorian Imperial Guard training, but it’s locked away somewhere in my Katra. I am not sure how to make use of it at this time. McGillian: Response TAGS/TBC - - Ensign Is’Kah Xiron Engineering USS Chin’toka R240101I14 Pronouns: She/Her (Player and Character)

@Ras El Heem showing his writing chops with grace and loss. A true testament to talented writers, joining during the chaos of Frontier Day, and the lasting consequences of loss, and mourning. I am so pleased to be writing along side him and see more of what he brings. Well done!! ((Makeshift Infirmary, Medical Facility, Deep Space 9)) Rows and rows of biobeds stood lined up like soldiers at attention, their stark white surfaces gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Scarcely a few lay empty but disheveled, representing the ghosts that once laid there. Nurses and doctors of various affiliations moved with purpose, their footsteps echoing in the sterile space, sharp against the backdrop of groans and somber silence. This section of Deep Space 9 had been cordoned off, a makeshift triage center, strained beyond its intended capacity to accommodate the wave of injured streaming in from the calamity at Deep Space 33. The flow of casualties was relentless, far surpassing what the station was designed to handle. Each moment counted. Each patient a life to be saved or that had already been saved and were taking up sought after space before they could secure transportation elsewhere. Yet, in this atmosphere of frenzied activity, Ras moved slowly. Deliberately, as if caught in a dream where time stretched and folded in on itself. His gaze was fixed on a bed at the far end of the room, where a familiar figure lay. As staff rushed past him, their faces a blur of concern and concentration, Ras turned his body to weave through the chaos, each turn of his shoulder feeling vital but detached. Each sidestep feeling like the delay of the inevitable. The world around him was a distant hum, the voices of colleagues and the beeping of monitors became a muted backdrop. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears as a steady thrum of melancholy rising to drown out everything else. Closer now, he could see her. Not a picture of fragility but of resilience. Shadows flickered across her face as the overhead lights ebbed in time with his racing pulse. Each beat resonated with a quiet desperation, urging him forward even as the weight of the situation pressed heavily upon his chest. He was moving, but time felt as if it had slowed to a crawl. It stretched the space between them into an eternity until it didn’t anymore. Until he stood at the foot of the bed. Her sleep was one of twilight, medically induced and not all that restful. Her leg was wrapped in a bandage with a pink hue near her upper thigh where the rest of it used to be. Dark circles marred the skin beneath her closed eyes, the rest of her face pale as the petals of a lily of the valley. She stirred and the sound of the sheets moving snapped Ras from his stupor. He knew this moment was coming, in fact he felt obligated to live the moment. To offer a consolation for his perfidy. Her eyes fluttered for a moment before slowly rising like a timelapse of two moons lifting into the night sky. When consciousness slipped back into place, she swallowed and stared right at the Kressari. Unspoken words stretched the quiet between them. Like the dimming of a distant star his presence cast a shadow where no promise had been made, yet the silence felt heavier for it. True to her character, she spoke with a nonchalance that seemed almost artful. Her words uttered easily as if the elephant in the room wasn’t sitting on her chest. Bobbart: Doc. You came to see the gimp show I take it? ::she chuckled raspily and then coughed.:: He titled his head sheepishly towards the ground but forced his gaze to meet hers, a juxtaposition of their soft brown iris and the sharp pupils that seemed to cut right through him. He raised his chin respectfully. El’Heem: I had to come see Cargo Bay A23’s knight in shining armor… The sentence trailed off and all too quickly it bled into the next. El’Heem: I...I…I tried to- She cleared her throat again and her face twisted as she rolled over to face the wall away from the doctor. Her crescent form curled under the sheets with her sole foot peeking from underneath. He couldn’t see her face, but a silent sob racked her body as her back swelled and then trembled over and over again. She didn’t grace him with any noise. It was vulnerable enough for her to cry in his presence. El’Heem: He was a hero, you know? ::beat:: If it wasn’t for him…all of Ops would have been spaced. She had stopped moving altogether and there was a hush that fell over the two. After a while, she sniffed, rubbed her nose and cleared the tears from under her eyes. She turned to look at Ras over her shoulder without fully facing him. Bobbart: It’s just Alice now... I’m being honorably discharged and going back to earth. El’Heem: Alice… Ras nodded while staring at the ground. She turned back to face the wall. El’Heem: I’m sorry. The words tasted like chalk in his mouth. It wasn’t enough. There was yet another silence between them. Bobbart: Thank you Doc. It truly does mean a lot that you personally went back to recover his body. Ras placed a hand on an empty spot on the bed behind her. El’Heem: Get home safe Alice. She didn’t turn to see him off, just stared at the wall, her own body casting a shadow and creating a safe burrow to reside in. Ras walked off into the sea of doctors and nurses and beds and similar stories as this one. Other blips of loss. And even some of reunion and relief. Alice fell back into the rabbit hole, chasing her white rabbit. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Some time passed before she woke again. She moved into a sitting position with her pillow at the small of her back pulling her one leg up and resting her chin on her knee. As the cloudiness cleared from her vision, she saw a silver beaded necklace at the foot of the bed. A tear welled in her eyes as her hand slid down to pull the chain to her. Alice held it in front of her face and let it dangle. The tear slid down her cheek as the two dog tags of Alice Bobbart and Grayson “Jonesy” Jones clinked against one another. NT/END Ensign Ras El’Heem Junior Medical Officer USS Khitomer (NCC-62400) K240106RE3

The perspective written here by @Serala brought back memories of my reaction to being told that I had a Dad now at about the same age.