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  1. I posted a narrative paragraph from this sim by @Talia Ohnari in our quotes thread, and when I felt the urge to also post the very next narrative paragraph, I figured the whole sim should probably be highlighted. Enjoy!
  2. Zenno is known for his world creation, but he exceled himself again with this introduction of a new MSNPC. It has been a joy to read, thanks, @Zenno ((Dome Selegrathe, on the surface of Emisa III)) Senna Kor’s tail curled tightly, as it did whenever she was deep in thought. She leaned over the rickety table, studying the maps of the underground tunnels, where most of the clan lived. Since the collapse of the fourth wing, mostly everyone had moved into the second, but space was tight and rations, even tighter. The drip-drip of the contaminated rain water from this morning, seeping in through the cracks in the joints of the dome kept time for her as the minutes passed. She wished she had convinced more of the clan to move into the domes, but the old superstitions were hard to break. Nevertheless, they had to risk, as Rodonthi Crusader Patrols were getting bolder, pushing her people further back, and the Moon People, well, the Moon People continued to do as they have always done. She looked at the old radio, still powered by a barely working generator. When the generator quit, they had no parts to fix it. Another piece of the old world, gone forever. The broadcast loop had continued now for eight revolutions. Would the ninth be different? She didn’t think it would, but the people had hopes. And she was a dealer in hope. It was all they had, living in the ruins of what was. But her contemplations were interrupted by War Captain Sullustis. He strode into the dome, his nose already crinkling with the musty and damp odors that assaulted him. Like all his people, he was lean and wiry. But unlike Senna’s coppery skin, he was silvery and the sunlight, fractured as it was by the cracks both old and new in the dome made quite the rainbow effect on his arms as he strode towards her. Sullustis: Senna, the Rondonthi zealots attacked the Cave of Whispering. Three of ours were taken, likely converted or put to death. But we drove them back, killing five. Should we pursue and take revenge? His tail, lithe and supple, hung low, indicating his anger. Senna’s tail draped around her shoulder, with the end to her right, indicating a gracious welcome. She turned from the unbalanced table which shifted as soon as she took her hands off it. Senna: War Captain. No, we don’t have time. I think the Death Towers have destabilized everything below the third level. ::beat:: Get the people ready to move. I want every Warrior ready to fight, and that includes able boys and girls who can hold a knife. We leave tomorrow. ::turns back towards the map:: Sullustis had not expected this response at all. His tail wrapped around his left arm. He had to secure it otherwise it would have indicated his extreme displeasure at this turn of events. Sullustis: But Senna, where are we going, if not to pursue? Senna: Here. ::points at the map:: The War Captain looked and his eyes grew big and his tail fell off his arm and went straight back in surprise. Sullustis: That.. that… ::restarts:: Is that wise? What is the plan? Senna:: The plan, my dear friend, is that we must risk. We must move everyone and leave nothing here for our enemies. And we will administer violence to any who offer to oppose us. Sullustis: And then? Her tail coiled and tensed. Senna: My friend, we are going to send a message to the Moon People that they cannot ignore as they have done for countless revolutions past. They are going to have to come down here. We will put their tails to the test. ::pauses, looks at the map:: And if the result is what we suspect, we will kill every last one of them and rejoice in it.
  3. The way @Kali Nicholotti weaves together our current mission briefing and the Adyr symbiont's past life is masterful, and a joy to read. I'm on the edge of my seat in anticipation of the next installment!
  4. ((The Starboard Bow, Deck 6, USS Arrow)) Lieutenant Hobart let go of Lieutenant Ohnari's hand and gestured towards the window of the Starboard Bow, sloping up and out along the Arrow’s belly. Without any significant atmosphere between their eyes and the stars, there was no twinkle. They simply burned mercilessly bright pinholes of light, steady and unyielding, through a pitch black canvas. Hobart: There’s a war coming. Could be here any day. We’re not on the frontline, we are the frontline. The Sheliak are coming with their new friends, and they view us all as vermin. You’re our Chief Medical Officer—"Acting" or otherwise—and you’re about to be elbow-deep in blood. ::beat:: You’re going to need to remember those puppies on that beach, but for me that doesn’t work. You didn’t offend me. ::placing both hands on her shoulders:: I’m working on a project with Connor, and whether it ever actually helps win the war or not, it helps me. That’s why I left the holodeck. I was getting ready. ::beat:: For what's coming. So... I'm sorry for makin' you worry. When he finished speaking, Nolen sensed the bouquet of emotions competing for the spotlight in Ohnari's mind. He couldn't be sure which of them won out, but an instant later she had wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder. He felt, through the shoulder of his dress uniform, the gentle tug of air pulled past his neck as she inhaled, and the warm gust as her lungs let go again. He couldn't imagine what it looked like to the rest of the Starboard Bow, but, then again, he didn't care to try. Whether it be relief that she was wrong about him, or anticipatory grief for the days, weeks, months, or even years to come, Talia needed the hug, and as much a trickster as he could be, Hobart couldn't deny it to her. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other up across her shoulders, his fingers weaving between her raven locks, his palm cradling the back of her head. Ohnari: ::muffled:: I think we're both a little weird sometimes... Hobart: ::chuckling:: We're weird a lot of the time… ::sigh:: but only weirdos join Starfleet. He'd said it before. In a post-scarcity society, where you could do and be anything you want and never have to worry about the necessities of life, it took a special kind of misfit to volunteer for service in Starfleet. Even on a barren backwater like Relva VIII, Nolen could have gone anywhere else. But he'd never have fit in anywhere else. At least here, they were all not fitting in together. Ohnari: ::turning her face so she wasn't muffled:: And whatever is coming… ::unconsciously squeezing tighter for a moment:: We'll face it. Hobart: ::softly, looking around at the celebration:: Call me the fly in the ointment, I guess. Didn't mean to ruin your big night. Ohnari: No… it makes sense. In a twisted, "Of course this is happening" sort of way. ::taking a deep breath:: Sickbay will be ready. And if you and Connor have anything to do with it, the Arrow will be running like she's brand new. Without realizing it, they'd started rocking. If they were clever, they could probably play it off as dancing. Of course, given the set list for the night, they'd have to each pretend to be rhythm-impaired. And if Nolen wasn't transferred, that would be a charade they'd have to carry on for a conceivably long time. But apparently neither one of them was feeling especially clever, because rather than lean into it, they simultaneously froze, in realization. The comforting hug had started to transform into something different and regardless of whether they were prepared to acknowledge it to themselves and each other, they were certainly unprepared to acknowledge it to the crowded room they edged. Hobart: Uh… Wubber? Ohnari: ::smallishly:: We're still hugging, aren't we? Hobart: Technically. Ohnari: It's getting weird, isn't it? He twisted his head to the side in consideration. "Weird" was a relative thing, and given that it was the two of them tangled in each other's arms… Hobart: In fairness, it started weird. Ohnari: Count of three, we break and never speak of it again. Before he could get in another quip, she pushed off him, winding up nearly a pandemic’s spacing apart. He instinctively straightened out his white jacket as he watched her fall away. Ohnari: ::stern parting nod:: Lieutenant Hobart. And with that, she turned and headed straight for the bar. Heaven help anyone in her way, thought the Betazoid hybrid. He watched her go, hips swaying beneath her dark gown, delicate chains across her back still twinkling. Hobart: ::slow nod, softly to self:: Talia. “Never speak of it again.” Yeah, that was probably for the best. NT/End for Hobart ——— Lieutenant Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer USS Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3
  5. Illogical Space Girlfriend Alert! Fun, short JP with @Zenno, @Talia Ohnari, and a cameo by @Kali Nicholotti:
  6. I found this self-examination to be very touching and a great solo sim. It gave some great insight into the character. She's also got some great references to other recent events that tie everything together very nicely. Sim by @Jacin Ayemet
  7. @Jacin Ayemet, writing to @Kirsty L. Carpenter's past life, making me feel feelings, all on a Sunday afternoon:
  8. Is there something called ‘Love at Seventh Sim’? @Talia Ohnari has got me completely head over heels with her CMO after this latest Sim, which just is so filled with personality, its just MARVELOUS! 😍
  9. ((Interior. Deep Space 33, The Arboretum.)) Quentin Collins felt a stabbing sensation. Something he had never experienced before this very second, seeing the bright and vibrant faces of his Arrow family directly after their latest awards ceremony (where they all had been richly and deservedly rewarded for their recent honourable works across the Alpha Isles). He felt cowardice. The people he loved the most, the people he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with were just across the way. They were talking and laughing and drinking and living. And Quentin couldn't bear to make himself a part of it. Because he knew, he knew deeper than anything he had never known in his life, that he would ruin it. That his life and existence with these beautiful, talented, kind, and loving people he had served and bled and toiled and gained a place in the universe with would come back around full circle and he would be the dark cloud over them all that he always secretly knew he was. It was total tripe, of course, and had Quentin the fortitude (and surety in his own ability to not immediately burst into tears as soon as anyone talked to him) to ask any one of them...they would tell him the same. But something else Quentin Collins knew was that self-loathing and doubt were some helluva things and better people than him have succumbed to it. That didn't stop him not-so-secretly hating himself for not simply walking the few feet it would take to actually TELL them goodbye. To tell them face to face just how much they all meant to him. How much they will continue to mean to him even back in Maine. How much he will think about them and worry after them and take a burning heart in the fact that they will still be out here in the Alpha Isles, fighting the good fight and continuing to bear the standard of the United Federation of Planets in a way that only they and they alone could. He could certainly say all these things. He had the words, the ability. The deep well of pathos and near idolization of his crew and superiors to back it further. And yet...still he stood back. A scared little boy in a too-big suit strapped with a bag of books that he thought of as his REAL friends. It was almost horrifying to him in the moment how cyclical life sometimes was. How cruelly recursive. He had come to space to find himself and then, for his sins, he had... Now it was throwing him backwards through time. Back to that red-headed scarecrow he was before Starfleet. With all the insecurities and self-doubts of that man-child to boot. The million-watt energy from the crew in the compartment beyond pulled him back from the dangerous brink. He took in their faces, their smiles, their anima in turn as he gazed longingly at their faces through a veil of gathering tears. Trying to store it like a battery in his soul for the long, tedious journey back home. Thinking their names like a litany as he gripped the strap of his knapsack for dear life. Shayne. Ash. Chloe. Ayemet and Connor. Serinus. Zabi and Zenno and Dr. Ohnari and Nol. Lana Morgenstern. Cassie. Reba Kester. Starrana and Stelok and the wonderful minds of the Science Departments of three ships. Captain Oddas. Irina Pavlova, Hal Mika, Professor Sotia Dano, Kayla Drex. An alert chimed on his comm. His shuttle was ready. Of course it was. He gave the crew...his real family one last look. A rueful, nearly cracking smile on his lips. oO Don't forget me, Arrow. Because I certainly won't forget you...Oo His smile widened. Thinking momentarily of the last thing he would leave them with, sitting comfortably in the Living History Annex. Then...Quentin Jaimson Collins, Third of his Name, turned and walked into the next phase of his life. Hopeful in the possibility that he could one day return to them all, once everything was done... ((U.S.S. Arrow, The Living History Annex.)) Standing, carefully placed and fully extended, was the sword of Chief Science Officer Quentin Collins. A note pinned to the top of the blade, addressed to the whole of the Arrow crew. "I love you all. Be extraordinary. -Q.C.III" -- Never The End. ((OOC: Thank you all for everything. My experience with the 118 has been so much richer and fuller having known and worked with you all. It's been...everything, really.)) -- Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins III Chief Science Officer -- U.S.S. ARROW NCC-69829 ID: E239512QC0
  10. Being in command of one's own ship seems like a daunting task, and an in reality, is probably far more taxing than us new Ensigns can even imagine. This aspect of Starfleet Life, I feel, our various Commanding Officers manage to transmit to us with extreme clarity, and often in quite hilarious ways. Nevertheless, this Sim was a lovely read, because it not only hammers home the fact that the lunatics enjoy the work, but that while Command can be a heavy burden to bear, it is not one our Captains carry alone. And just as Captain @Randal Shayne, I ended the Sim with a smile on my face. I'm sure I speak for the entire fleet, when I say we hope for a good and fun-filled transitional period for all Ships who've lost crewmembers to the Rampage of the Ronin, and that we all share in the excitement described in this Sim!
  11. I'm really enjoying this glimpse into our junior Security Officer's trials as he is thrown into the deep end of the pool as we say farewell to Lt. Cmdr. Serinus. Sim below: ((Location unknown, time unknown)) The sea raged against the shore. Spray went in high looping arcs in every direction. The sun was low, deep, and showing an angry orange as it dipped behind the horizon. Zenno sat on a lounger and looked at the water as it pounded the sandy beach with wave after furious wave. A giant one, larger than the others by far spent itself against the land. The edge of waters washed up and just touched the leg of lounger… ((Zenno's Place, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) Computer: BOOOOOP! Good Morning, Ensign Zenno! The time on deck is 0600. Your number is zero. The Bolian, suddenly awakened from a deep slumber shot straight up from the chair behind the desk, smacking his head on the wall behind. Zenno: Ow! ::rubs the back of his head:: The computer, oblivious, continued on with a chipper attitude. Computer: You have 17 new messages, 4 unread files, and 3 reports from the Security Office. Message one from Ensign Saava, USS White Pine, message two from Crewman Astrid, message three from Lieutenant T’Lyra, Deep Space 33, message four from Ensign Grall, Starbase 88, message five from… Zenno: Halt, stop, cease. ::still rubbing the back of his head:: He wanted nothing more than to hear from his friends, and T’Lyra too, he supposed. But there wasn’t time this morning. It was going to be a quick workout, breakfast, and then to the Commander’s Office. Zenno: Computer, hot tea. Very strong. 500 milliliters. The replicator whirred and Zenno got on with his plan. ((Security Office, Security Desk, Deck 3, USS Arrow, 0700 Hours)) Serinus: Come in, Mr. Zenno. The Ensign came in carrying several PADDs, as was consistent with Starfleet protocol. All meetings with the boss must have PADDs. Many PADDS in different sizes. Some that go bleep and others that go bloop. oO Stop it, you are getting punchy because you didn’t sleep hardly at all last night. Oo Zenno: Good Morning, Commander. oO I could probably count how many ‘Good Mornings’ are left. Three? Two? We will be at DS 33 soon, the Commander will leave, and that will be that. It will not be a welcome transition. Oo Serinus: Have a seat. Would you like a beverage, Zenno? Zenno: Very thoughtful, yes please. A hot tea. oO Two is probably enough for any morning. Oo The Commander engaged the replicator and returned with the drinks. Zenno took the tea but waited for the Commander to sit and drink his espresso first, which he did in short order. Zenno: I have many thoughts and so much I want to ask about. :: sips tea:: I’m still in somewhat of a state. Big news. I’m still trying to understand it all. The Ensign didn’t think they could possibly cover even a portion of what they needed in the time they had left. It would be up to the Commander to decide what was most necessary and to start there, so Zenno was careful to not direct the conversation at all. He waited with patience. They locked eyes. To Zenno, it appeared that the Commander was tired, as if he had not slept well either. Serinus: It wasn't supposed to end this way. I had to split the responsibilities of a Security Chief from the very beginning of my career. When I got here, and had it all put on my shoulders, I swore I wouldn't let any of my Officers go without a duty post mentor like that. Zenno considered his next words carefully. He didn’t wish to dismiss the Commander’s experiences. But it was important to acknowledge the effects they had had on him. Zenno: We haven’t talked about this, but I read and write poetry. I was reading some the other day. From Earth, of all places, and from long ago. “Walker, there is no road, only foam trails on the sea.” I find that line applies to our current predicament. There is the plan, and then the world happens to us. And then there goes the plan, right out of the airlock. I think in this moment, that it applies to us both. I think it is also the way of things in the Alpha Isles in particular. ::beat:: If I may ask, are you regretting your choices? The Commander shook his head sadly to indicate the negative. Serinus: We have a lot to cover in only a few days, I will have to table my regrets for later.::break:: Have you had the time to review all of the tactical plans that we made a few years back? oO It’s to be all business, then? So be it. Oo Zenno: I had reviewed them all when I first came here. I had arrived when everyone else was on shore leave, if you recall, so the ship was near deserted. This suited me very well, since I could examine the entire ship, memorize the layout, and review all the files in the Security Computer without interruption. Serinus: Good. Those will yours to modify at your discretion, I'd advise to ask the Petty Officers for help. You will need to do one for The Starboard Bow, since it wasn't established yet. Zenno took out one of the PADDs, one of the smaller ones that went “blooop” and started making notes. There were multiple things that needed updating now, and this was just the start. It was going to be a long time until he got everything sorted and he was resigned to his fate. Zenno: Of course. I’ll see to it first thing. Serinus: As you've probably recognized as shift lead, most of our work is administrative. PADDwork, and the hell that is bureaucracy and red-tape. On top of forms, this includes training plans, scheduling and the like. Questions so far? Zenno: Many. Last night I was trying to prepare as best I could and I came across this planning form in some training materials called the “Division Officer’s Checklist” and I’m sure it’s missing a few things. Might we take a look at that? ((Time Skip: Some 12 hours later)) Zenno’s vision was getting blurry and his little PADD had run out of storage, somewhere between list item CCXLIII.R.47.k.iii, “Petty Officer uniform lockers must be inspected for infestation at least monthly, see logs Stardate 240004.15 for reasons” and list item CCCIII.X.11.b.iv, “Crewman Astrid never to be assigned Phaser charging duty again. See numerous incident reports for details.” Big PADD had to take over. His poor sleep from the night before was not helping at all either. But he was trying to be a good sport about it and keep up. He looked up at the Commander, ready for the next item… Serinus: Get some rest, Ensign we'll resume same time tomorrow morning. They'll be plenty of time for overwork when I'm gone. Zenno: A wise idea, Commander. I think some rest will serve us well. But I do believe we made a big dent in the work to be done. Thank you for letting me know about the trouble on beta shift. I’ll certainly keep an eye on that. If it festers, it will be an issue. Have a good evening. The Ensign made his goodbye and headed straight back to his quarters to answer some messages and then to get some rest. NT/END Ensign Zenno Security Officer USS Arrow A240006Z13
  12. Never been such a small delta between receiving a sim in my inbox and me posting it here, but y'all have got to read this. ——— ((Serinus Quarters, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) It had been a few sleeps since Tlhiroghni' met the very friendly female twoleg with the same headfur color as her twoleg. It was so far, an evening like any other. After returning from getting wet and stinky for the second time this awake, then washing it away with the noise, and putting his outer skin thing back on, her twoleg was rolling her "baw" around, and she was chasing after it, knocking it about the room that was their territory with her little snout , bouncing it off walls and booping it repeatedly until it was close enough for her twoleg to retrieve and toss again. It was the same way every time, but it never got old for the tiny targ. She heard people passing outside the moving wall that granted access to their abode, and she had learned to mostly ignore them, but one had stopped right in front of it, and this gave her cause to ignore the baw for a moment and warn the would be transgressor with defensive ornks and grunts. Her two leg stood from the edge of his sleeping rectangle and spoke softly to her as the ringing thing asked if the twoleg outside could come in. Serinus: Calm down, it's just the doctor. I mean, Auntie Talia. She recognized that name, the twoleg from the other day had called herself that. Her mood changed immediately as her little tail wagged delightedly and trotted over beside her twoleg to greet her, as he called out. Serinus: Come in doctor. Ohnari: Response The visiting twoleg was carrying some kind of box in one of her hand, and the targlet looked up at her happy to see her again, wagging her little tail as her twoleg spoke to Auntie Talia. Serinus: Welcome. You seem to have made quite an impression the other day. Ohnari: Response Serinus: Pretty standard senior officer's quarters really. Except that's where I keep the kid's pool full of dirt for Tlhiroghni' to burrow around in, and the tarp beneath it. That was her name! And she squealed and wagged in delight about her name coming up. Ohnari: Response Serinus: Sure, you can set up wherever you like. The three of them walked together further into the room, Tlhiroghni' padding along beside her constant companion, and her newest friend. This was the good life. Tag/TBC TlhIroghnI', Spike Pig commander, pet Targ of Artinus Serinus. As simmed by: -- - Lieutenant Commander Artinus Serinus Chief of Security USS Arrow, NCC-69829 Publicity Team/Social Media Team/Image Collective C239607AS0 -
  13. ((When the dialogue is so good that description can take a back seat. Outrageously great, you two.)) ((Promenade, Raft One)) Hobart: Nope, my first time here, too. Mostly. ::grim smile:: But I grew up in digs like this. The arse-end of the Quadrant, nearly forgotten by the Federation. ::pause, pointing up:: Hear that? We had the same squeaky ventilation system. Recycler’s got a couple months left in it, tops. Zenno: We should go, if you are done mechanically agitating the map console. I detect alleged food smells from down that way. ::points:: The engineer shrugged, and chuckled as they walked. His black eyes searched for crowds. The downside of his strategy to eating safe was a reliance on the lunchtime rush, which invariably meant navigating a lunchtime rush. When things were quiet, there was less to go on. Was a diner empty because the food was lousy, or because it was the middle of a shift? Hobart: So where are you from, Ensign? Zenno/Any: Starbase 307. Born and raised in space. How about you? Hobart: Relva VIII. Zenno: I have never been. What is it like? Hobart: Same as here, just different. Fewer food options, but same squeaky ventilation, somewhere behind one of these panels, I bet there’s a waste reprocessor covered in so much gunk you can use it as a weight-loss aid. One look, and you won’t eat for a month! As they rounded a corner on that pleasant note, Nolen sharply inhaled at the sight of what certainly appeared to be the station’s main food court. A few formal restaurants, a handful of pushcarts, and one or two fast food joints to boot. Fewer food options, indeed. Zenno: An Andorian Fast Food Shack! I’d heard about these! ::Very excitedly:: The Blue Freeze shake is supposed to be ethereal! They have one on Deep Space 9 that I heard about. Do you want to try it? It looks like there is a line though. Or do you want to go further down? I think there is a Tholian-Vulcan fusion cuisine place too, “Molten Hot Veggies” or something. I’d try almost anything. Nolen felt the Bolian’s mind touch on something unpleasant, briefly, there at the end, and he suspected that was a big “almost.” Hobart: No, no, Line is safe. Line is good. Trust the Line. The Line will lead the way. Zenno: ::Very excited:: Blue Freeze Shake and Iced Antennae Poppers! I'm getting that. Or maybe the Extremely Frozen Fajitas. ::thinking:: Zenno didn't think any of the food would have been an issue for him. Andorian food had always been quite palatable. But that was the authentic stuff. This was probably as legitimate as the "Gagh Hut" he had tried on Luna during a training cruise. But the Lieutenant seemed preoccupied with something other that the allegedly tasty treats they were about to have. oO Did I cause offense somehow? Oo Hobart: ::rocking on his knees slightly:: Yep. Zenno: Is everything OK? Do you want to go elsewhere? The engineer's eyes narrowed on Zenno, as if he was evaluating him for something. oO I don't think he wants any Iced Antennae Poppers. Oo Hobart: ::lowered voice, conspiratorial tone:: You know, somewhere in the bowels of this station, there’s a room. Maybe disused quarters, maybe an auxiliary cargo bay. And the people here call it the “dump,” maybe. The “heap,” the “lot,” the “pile,” the “depot,” maybe. Whatever they call it, it’s full—floor to ceiling—of things too broken to use, too valuable to shove back into a replicator, and too expensive to fix. Zenno: That sounds like every station that's at the hind end of nowhere. Hobart: That’s why I’m here, Mister Zenno. See, I don’t do shore leave. ::weighing his head back and forth in nuanced reflection:: Usually. But a place like this? With its dusty corners and forgotten treasures? ::shakes his head:: Too good to pass up. Do you want to give your friend some flimsy station gift shop tchotchke, or a real piece of the Alpha Isles? Zenno: A real piece of the Alpha Isles might leave a waxy residue. Hobart: Response? Zenno: If you want to look through the trash, there's nothing wrong with it, of course. But if we violate any local ordinances it might cause a problem for the ship, but no one should care if you want to go through a discard pile. Bringing anything back to the ship will require a security scan however. oO Does he think I am a rule-breaker? Oo Hobart: Response? Andorian Andi: Next! Welcome to the Andorian Fast Food Shack! It’s Blue and it’s For You! What'll you have? Zenno: Iced Antennae Poppers meal deal with a Blue Freeze Shake! oO I hope he gets the Extremely Frozen Fajitas or the Imperial Guard Ice Cream. Those look good too. Oo Hobart: Response? Tags/TBC Ensign Zenno Security Officer USS Arrow A240006Z13
  14. ((OOC: Everyone loves Artinus' pet miniature Targ, oocly if not icly, but he's never seen a crew mate with quite an adorkable reaction to meeting her as this. You are in for some laughs, and even more feels.) ((Main Sickbay, Acting CMO's office, USS Arrow)) It had been an...interesting day to say the least. Upon returning to Sickbay to tell Seesh the news, instead of being greeted by her hulkling lizard friend, the office was empty. And a note flashing on the terminal told her why. Something had come up that required Dr. Seesh to have to step away. R'Ariel had left, and now, it seemed so had Seesh. In a panic, Talia gave her uniform shirt a healthy sniff. It smelled like uniform. And a faint scent of lilies from her soap. It was unlikely it was her, but she still needed to make sure. Sitting down in the now larger, colder feeling office, she stared at the second message on the terminal: To: Lt. Jg. Hobart, Lt. Jg. Ohnari, Cdt. Perim CC: Shayne, Randal, CPT From: Niac, Karrod, CMDR Subject: Need to borrow your body for a few hours Please meet in the bridge conference room tomorrow at 1400 hours if interested. Snacks will be provided. //End Message Snacks will be provided. She kept reading that line over and over. Snacks. For the use of hers, Nolen, and Cadet Perim's bodies....and she thought being a department head came with perks. Apparently it came with snacks and the use of her physical person for....some...reason? Somehow, she'd missed the message until now, the day of, and in an hour. Scrubbing her hands over her face she let out a slightly muffled groan. Her first official act as acting Chief Medical Officer was to get some snacks and offer her meat prison for unknown experimentation. As far as first days go, it could be worse. ((Corridors)) It seemed her second, and forty seventh official act as acting CMO was to approve a ridiculous amount of paperwork, mostly from herself.... oO Now how does that work for ethics...? Oo Lost in the bureaucratic red tape, she nearly careened into the chief of security. Ohnari: Oh! I am so sorry Commander I wasn't paying attention, Good morning! Having apologized for the near collision, a chorus of contented grunting came from the floor. Serinus: Good morning to you as well, doctor. Every worry and thought that had been swirling around her dissipated. Ohnari: W-ha, I mean, who is this...? Serinus: This is Tlhiroghni', whom you may have heard of in passing. Talia's eyes widened as the trotting targ gave her a few cautionary sniffs. Hopefully she wasn't offended by lily scented soap.... Ohnari: ::timidly:: May I pet her...? That is, if she wouldn't mind... Artinus: ::giving a slow nod:: Oh, everyone always wants to pet her, yes. You are welcome to try, she's been pretty good with new people as far as targs go. And with the affirmative, Talia unceremoniously melted to the floor, both hands outstretched giving the little creature a welcoming gesture. She let out a squeal of delight when the little curly tail began thumping about and her knees were suddenly covered in mini targ snorts. Ohnari: ::high pitched and sing-songy:: Oh you are such a good girl look at you! Who's a good little targ?! Talia snatched up the little hoofed hoglet and was nearly in tears. Her morning had been filled with highs and lows, and now, she was on the floor, getting Targ spit all over her face. She couldn't be happier at that very moment. Artinus: Response? She was completely oblivious to what he had said, and anything else beyond the little coarse-haired creature. Ohnari: I love you, yes I do, you are the most perfect little targlet in the whole world aren't you Tlhiroghni'?? Auntie Tali will get you a little sweater and some booties and maybe a little sun hat.... Artinus: Response? Still clutching this squirmy, squealy Targ, Talia glanced up and smiled sheepishly. For a moment, she had completely forgot that the Commander was there...and now looking down on her....acosting his pet with exuberant affection. Carefully, she set the targ back down and stood, clearing her throat a touch awkwardly. oO No way this man ever respects me again...Oo Ohnari: I mean....if your dad doesn't mind...and all that...heh... Artinus: Response? --------------------------------------------- Lieutenant JG Talia Ohnari, MD USS Arrow C239205ME0
  15. ((OOC What you reading here is the correspondence between Zenno and his new frenemy T'Lyra from DS 33 that I set up in a previous sim and his Academy friend, Saava. Essentially these are emails. But to make it easier to read, the order is reversed. The oldest message is on top and it proceeds in time towards the bottom. This kind of solo writing thing is not going to be a habit. )) ((OOC You can assume that Zenno is sharing the technical results of the scanner stuff with anyone who has an interest so if you want to use any of that in your sims, feel free. Zenno would NOT say much about the Romulan influenced design yet to anyone other than Serinus and T'Lyra, as he thinks he has insufficient evidence to make that case yet. If anyone would like to participate in the work, feel free to write it up and tag him.)) ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow My friend, I hope you settling in well on the White Pine. I have had quite the experience here on the Arrow. Too much insanity to even describe. But it all came out well in the end. You'll be pleased to know that I have kept up with your combat training lessons. I have been working on the next level in the discipline. It's exhilarating and fun. I sincerely hope to never need to use any of it in a live circumstance. I did have a chance to do a demonstration when I was on Deneva though. Be glad (If you could be glad, I know, I know) you did not have that school assignment. I was thinking kindly of you (as I always do) during my last mission, as I was working with a Vulcan and our many past interactions were instructive in my work with her. It helped me enormously. So I thank you. You need not worry though. (I know you would worry but never admit to it. Save your protestations.) I did not tell her about that time we logically decided to evade curfew and attend that music show. I know that disclosure would shame your family, etc... (I am rolling my eyes human style right here.) So I shall keep that in reserve for a suitable blackmail experience in the future. The ship's crew is quite interesting. I've enjoyed all of the interactions I have had. But you can counsel me (again!) on eating the wrong thing at the wrong time, for the 15,000th time. (I am sure in your Vulcan head you have the exact number.) Right before I met my new Captain, I ate some human food that didn't agree and it made for an abbreviated meeting. I should have learned by now to keep your wise counsel. I still regret that we did not get the same assignment, as I think us being in the fleet together would have been great. Team "Blue Point" would have been unstoppable. Just like we were in Parrises Squares together. Please do let me know how you are settling in and if you have had any fun missions thus far. Or as you would say "Satisfactorily concluded missions with beneficial outcomes." I have had 4 years of practice deciphering your Vulcan ways, my friend. You can't fool me. Your Best Bolian Friend, Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow I am pleased that we are working together on this analysis of the Tri-Phasic devices. Enclosed you will find several baseline comparisons I have made between our subject and several related but more primitive devices I was able to discover in our data banks. I would not share this publicly, but I do suspect a Romulan design in this technology. I have noted several similarities between the node structures and the peculiar collimator construction. Do you concur? On a personal note, I hope you are fully recovered from the experience in the Freighter. There is no reason to rush to the analysis, if you are still on light duty. Taking some time for restoration would be the logical thing to do, after all. Kindest Regards, Ens Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Your concern has been noted. The speed of my analysis is unhindered by my experiences on the ship. However, I will make allowances since you are likely unaccustomed to the high speed and pinpoint accuracy of our Security team, due to your situation. oO My situation? Is she serious with this? I can't tell. Is she still "Vulcan Mad" at me for questioning her logic when we were on the freighter? Oo It is well that you had discovered the Romulan design cues. I had already seen them but I thought best to leave them unmentioned as a learning moment for you. oO She is most certainly having a go. Very well, I shall respond. Prepare to accept a barrage, Vulcan Lady. Oo I will share the results of our deep level scans as soon as practicable. With Respects, Lt T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow What a pleasant sound it is when the computer tells me I have a message from you! I am so happy that you are finding your place on the White Pine. And thank you for updating me on the exact number of times you have advised me on my dietary choices. I did make sure to put in for leave for the Parrises Squares Grand Championships on Argelius II. I hope we both get to go. I know you cannot admit it, but I know you miss me. I'm going to see if I can find a time we are both off-duty at the same time for a call. I had mentioned that I am working with another Vulcan officer on a project? Things are not going well, and I am sorely in need of your opinion. Plus I am sorely in need of beating you in another late night Kal-Toh session. (You need not remind me that you are in the lead, but not by much. I do remember these things!) Your friend, Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Colleague T'Lyra Thank you for your thoughtful analysis and reports. I have annotated several areas that could use a level 3 scan with a molecular analyzer. Also, enclosed are my notes on the logs of the live scans I was able to conduct when the device was operational. I made sure the report text was as dry and soulless as a desert landscape, since I assume that would be your preference. oO Now I'm starting to sound like Nardello. It's like we are both little clones of him, fighting each other. Oo I appreciate the pinpoint accuracy of the DS 33 Security team. I hope everyone is well after getting completely taken over by amateur mercenaries and placing the whole sector at risk. We could assist in bringing more counseling teams to the station, if needed. I would be pleased to speak to our Captain on your behalf if this would be salutary. Please do let us know. With Kindest Regards, Ens Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Receiving your last transmission was agreeable. The live scan notes are helpful in determining the proper power settings that they had used in the operation of the devices. oO ... Is T'Lyra enjoying this? In her weird Vulcan way? These people are a mystery, truly. I think Saava may be the only Vulcan whom I can get along with. Oo Attached you will find the requested molecular scans. I've taken the liberty of removing any obscure words with more than three syllables from the report. I understand your species is from a water planet and there was no need to flood you with complicated language. oO Bless the waters! I can't believe I just read that. That sounds like Nardello. Oo If the Arrow should be able to make its way to DS 33 again, you would be welcome to enjoy our physical combat regimen that I run with the Security Team. Repeated defeat can be fruitful and instructive. oO It is on, as the humans say. Oo Very Respectfully, Lt T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Esteemed Colleague T'Lyra I have studied the molecular scans you have provided. The data was extremely useful. I have been able to experiment in replicating some of the processor elements. I am attaching some of the saved replicator designs I have made. Additional work is needed in this area if we are to attempt a prototype and I think we can do even more together. I am gratified at the success we have achieved thus far. I hope you would agree that this collaboration is proceeding well. As for your invitation to engage in your combat routine, I would happily accept the next time the ship is forced to visit DS 33. I look forward to providing you with extremely close up details of the training room deck. I would be pleased to assist in this. oO Why am I being like this? Why is she bringing this out? She's got a lot of our old Chief's attitude in her, I think. Or maybe she was just as scarred as me, but in her Vulcan way? I need to talk to Saava and get her opinion. Oo Most Respectfully, Ens Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Our collaboration has been most satisfactory and stimulating. I have further refined the designs you have provided. There were numerous errors I had corrected on your behalf in the coding. But it was a valiant effort. oO Is this Vulcan for "good try?" I will practice deep breathing before replying, otherwise, it may go poorly. Remember what Saava said. Oo If we can complete the replication and produce a working device, it would be most beneficial for our careers. It would be appropriate for you to have secondary credit, given your minor assistance on the project. If you attempt to run the designs in the replicator, be sure to inform your Engineering team first, as your ship's replicators likely don't have the required resolution for some of the more delicate components. oO I will never speak of this bit to my crew mates. I suspect it would cause animosity. What a strange collaboration this is turning out to be. I like it and hate it at the same time. Oo Very Respectfully, T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Honored Colleague T'Lyra I too, have found this collaboration useful and instructive. I am delighted when I see a message from you stating that you have made further advances in the work. Some very small portions of your contributions were relevant in the larger project and I look forward to aggressively adjudicating the quantity of them with you when the project is completed. But I must point out that credit is a topic best left for after completion when we can completely analyze our respective contributions. To engage in such now would be a logic error. oO TAKE THAT! DIRECT HIT! Oo I have analyzed your corrections and they were unnecessary. I have commented them as "dunsel" in the code base. You'll see that my code incorporated some of the design flaws in the original subject. These are necessary so that the live power scans we took would match. With Kind Felicitations, Ens Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Hello Apologies for the double message. But I am reflecting on this entire chain of communication. We both studied under Nardello on Deneva, and I suspect that we are still under the influence of not only his courses, but his regrettable approach to interpersonal relations. Are you willing to discuss? Kind Regards, Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Your last communication was well-received. I have been meditating on our collaboration and it is only logical to assume that perhaps our respective experiences in the Security School in Deneva have had some long-term effects on us both. Some of those effects may not be advantageous. Logic, tempered with wisdom, is the way forward. This is a lesson that I have heard often but have not yet fully incorporated. I would be open to exploring our mutual experiences on Deneva and discovering how to take what is best from that place and leave behind what is not. I have not encountered anyone else in our role who was so similarly affected. I await your reply. T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Friend Saava, Your advice has been wise and useful, as always. Many thanks for your insights. It has made me rethink my approach. Have you heard from Vratak and Grall at all? I am certain they are up to no good on Starbase 88. We should plan an alumni meeting. I nominate you to arrange this. It is only logical, after all. (You may act on your unstated annoyance with me when we meet on Argelius!) Signed, One half of Team Point Blue (The obviously better half) Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow T'Lyra, Many apologies for the delay in responding. I too, had to consider and meditate on our correspondence. We are working well together on the technical elements of this project and it is my sincere hope that we continue to do so. I am enclosing some further scans that I have conducted, as well as some refinements to the replicator design code. I have been in contact with some of my classmates from Deneva who also have much to process about the experience. We are going to have a series of facilitated discussions over subspace to talk about it. You would be most welcome to attend also and to participate to whatever degree you believe appropriate. I think there is much to be done here. I am attaching the schedule and the codes to attend. It would be delightful to see you there. Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Saava, I would be nowhere without your friendship. I think things are turning around here in my project and your steady advice has been key. However, if you think that this will make me go easy on you in our next game, you would be mistaken. Please be safe and careful on your missions. Not because I care about you, but only because I remember that you still owe me fifty credits and I wish to be repaid. Tis' only logical, no silly emotions involved. Your friend, even at a great distance, Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Zenno, If there are no conflicts with my duty schedule, I will attend. I still expect you will attend my combat sessions when you are in the area. T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow T'Lyra, I eagerly anticipate the experience. Zenno END/NT Ensign Zenno Security Officer USS Arrow A240006Z13
  16. A good NPC is worth its weight in latinum but the challenge can often be bringing life to a character or species that we have very little canonical knowledge of. Here Lt. Jg. Hobart swings for the fences and nails a delightfully disgusting characterization in this introductory sim. It's the first sim I've posted in appreciations that made me nauseous, so, cheers! ======================================== ((Command Hub, Central Ventrical, SCS Imperative)) An alarm chimed strangely at Senior Associate Regional Vice Director Of Exploitation Goo’py. The alarm itself was perfectly ordinary, but the fact of it was strange. The humanoid tenant of the Federation facility, one Boo-Fard, had requested an arrival at a specific time, but Vice Director Goo’py didn't get where he was by taking directives from lesser species. He departed Shev’Unden when he was ready, and not a moment earlier or later. But the strangeness of the alarm bothered Goo’py. A ship on an intercept course, of unidentified allegiance, was detected by the Imperative's long range scanners. The trajectory matched a Ferengi origin. The Ferengi, as a species, were easy enough to corral. Their sense of independence could be easily and entirely subsumed by their desire to reap a profit. But their nature of profit was deeply flawed. Measured in terms of currency, the Ferengi were a people wealthy beyond imagination. In terms of power, their greed was a flaw to be exploited. But also managed. On Naz, they had been allowed to fester as an infestation. It was a tale as old as time. Director Flur’psh had thought to allow the Ferengi access, as something of an invasive species. It was on the surface, a sound idea. Mining operations would continue, but the burden on corporate assets would be reduced. Flur’psh was an idiot, who had lingered far too long in a position he clearly couldn't handle. His mind had grown sloppy, and his folds sagged and reeked of a career gone stale. He was, to Goo’py’s photoreceptors, ripe for the picking, and Naz was where he was softest. A victory here would not only reinforce the vital flow of resources from within Naz, but secure Goo’py’s future within the Corporate hierarchy. As his ship blurped out of warp within sight of the horribly spindly looking Deep Space 33, Goo’py gripped a control crystal and accessed the ship's navigation and control suite, setting course for an open bay. Not waiting for instruction from the station. If he was forced to wait for the Federation to catch up with his requirements, he would shrivel and die of old age before even setting foot on their ramshackle excuse for a Starbase. No, Station Ops would accommodate him, at his leisure. The Federation wouldn't risk anything else. With the course programmed and autopilot engaged, Goo’py disabled the Imperative’s artificial gravity. He was no longer required to stay at his station, and zero-G movement was, of course, the most expedient way to get from one compartment of the compact destroyer to another. Leaving his small crew behind, Goo’py prepared himself for the inglorious work of interfacing with lesser lifeforms. ((Timeskip, Docking Bay, Deep Space 33)) Vice Director Goo’py loathed the station from the beginning. The atmosphere was appropriate, but the architecture was gaudy and insistence on making him fight the artificial gravity was obnoxious. He surveyed the motley arrangement of officers and diplomats. In contrast to the Ferengi, the Federation was resilient, a begrudgingly-acknowledged threat. The variety of cultures contained within it meant it could at times struggle to survive, but, in doing so, became more resilient against manipulation. The treaty, for now, held, but the Federation was not his concern this day. Naz was. From his core a deep bubbling and burping, a glopping and sloshkng preceded his speech. Goo’py: Speak carefully or your own words may doom you. The traditional Sheliak greeting was true enough. It's why speech was often a last resort. Script and law and rules could and should be made as lengthy and complex as they needed to be. But the inferiority of the meatier species inevitably presented itself in their preference for speech. Hasty and vague, Goo’py often wondered if it was due to the fear of their meat going to spoil. Any: Response More gurgling and squicking could be heard in the room, as Goo’py formulated his speech carefully. Goo’py: I am the Sheliak Corporate Authority in the Naz region, and, for the extent of thisss… summit, on thisss… space station. When you address me, you address Shev’Unden. Any: Response TAG/TBC ——— Goo’py Senior Associate Regional Vice Director Of Exploitation Sheliak Corporate Authority as simmed by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer USS Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3
  17. The contrast between @Zenno's training flashback and his speech is marvelous. May we all stay at zero.
  18. I really enjoyed @Randal Shayne's use of flashbacks, here! I read this on my phone yesterday and just now remembered to share it here. It's a solid sim that gives us both an understanding of the coming mission, and the character. It was a joy to read, and, as I said when I finished reading it: "I guess that's why he gets paid the big bucks."
  19. ((Risian Sundown Resort, above Stardust City)) It had taken longer than he had ever expected it to take. Still, after several calls with employees of the Slipka Resort Consortium, he had finally managed to book a bigger room for Ayemet and him to stay in together as part of their provided all-expense stay at the Risian Sundown Resort. He had talked to several people on Risa to secure a proper room on Freecloud - what an odyssey. ((Flashback)) Connor had looked up the commlink they were about to contact for their reservation at the Risian Sundown Resort for the all-expenses covered weekend. As he opened the communications line, a popup appeared on his screen. Please enter your customer number... On a second window Connor opened the confirmation message they had gotten to check for the asked information. But none had been supplied. He frowned as he skipped through the text a second time. Nothing... With a quiet sigh, he just confirmed the empty input field. The next text prompt on his screen did not improve his mood significantly. You are 33rd in the queue. He leaned back and let himself fall into the cushions. Reconfiguring the EPS grid in sickbay had exhausted him over the day. He had taken off three days to enjoy them at the Risian resort with Ayemet. And the only thing he wanted to do before falling into bed was to rearrange their bookings to combine them for a better room for two people. You are 29th in the queue. Another sigh as he let his head fall back into the cushions and thought of his last time visiting a resort like this. It had been on earth, a resort on the coast of the Mediterranean sea. It had not been as luxurious as the Sundown Resort promised to be. But he remembered how relaxed he had gotten while being there. And he looked forward to that. You are 27th in the queue. His mind started to wander off as he imagined what their time together could be like. A white-sanded beach appeared before his inner eyes; the surge of waves surrounded his feet. He felt his eyes closing slowly... Support Agent: Slipka Resort Consortium, my name is Taya. How may I assist you? Connor woke with a start and took a second to orient himself. Seconds ago, he had been at a sunny beach. The darkness of his quarters engulfed him as the attractive support agent appeared on his screen. Dewitt: I... Yes... I want to rebook a room... Two rooms. Support Agent: Why certainly, Sir! May I have your customer number, please. Dewitt: I am afraid I have not been provided one. Support Agent: Of course, Sir. In that case, may I have your name, please? Dewitt: It's Connor Dewitt. Support Agent: Thank you, Mr. Dewitt. Let me check our system for available rooms. ::typing on the keyboard:: Ah, it seems we still have rooms available for the dates you requested. Perfect! Dewitt: Great! So, how do I proceed with the rebooking? Support Agent: I'm glad you asked, Mr. Dewitt. I will transfer you to our dedicated rebooking department, where they will guide you through the process. Please hold the line. The logo of Slipka Resort Consortium appeared on the screen. A small sun in the lower left with a bis smile was dancing on the beach. Another time to frown. Together with Nolen and two other crewmen, they had updated the full sickbay EPS grid in only a single day. He felt played out but satisfied with their progress. And after such an achievement, he was stuck in an ordinary customer service line. Support Agent #2: Hello, this is Grace speaking from the rebooking department. How can I assist you today? Dewitt: Hi, Grace. I need to rebook two rooms at Sundown Resort for a different date. Support Agent #2: Certainly, Mr. Dewitt. Before we proceed, may I kindly ask for your customer number? Dewitt: I already mentioned to the previous agent that I don't have one. Support Agent #2: My apologies, Mr. Dewitt. Let me see if I can find your original reservation using your name. Please hold while I check our system. Dewitt: Of cou... But before Connor could finish his approval, the Slipka Ressort Consortium logo appeared again. He felt an uncomfortable rage at the situation rise and got up. He took the terminal he was using to move it over to the small dining table in his quarters and tried to breath calmly. The clock on the wall showed the local ship time. 03:21. They had worked after hours to get things done and make sickbay ready again as fast as they could. And his next shift was about to start in 5 hours. Support Agent #2: Thank you for your patience, Mr. Dewitt. I'm afraid I couldn't locate your original reservation. However, I can transfer you to our reservations department, and they should be able to assist you further. Please hold. Dewitt: Wait, another transfer? Can't you help me here? Support Agent #2: I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Dewitt. The reservations department has the expertise required to handle these matters. I assure you, they will be able to assist you. Connor hated the little sun. Why would a sun dance on the beach? He started to walk around the table to stay awake. He started to count the laps to distract his mind from the situation that seemed infuriating to his sleep-deprived mind. Dewitt: ::mumbling:: look forward to that weekend, Connor! Support Agent #3: Hello, this is Payo from the reservations department. How can I help you today? Dewitt: Finally, Payo! I've been transferred twice already. My name is Connor Dewitt, and I just want to rebook two rooms at Sundown Resort. Support Agent #3: I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Dewitt. I'm here to assist you. Can you please provide me with your customer number? Connor took a deep breath to stay calm. Dewitt: I don't have one! I've already mentioned that to the previous agents. Support Agent #3: My apologies, Mr. Dewitt. Let me check if I can locate your original reservation using your name. Please bear with me for a moment. ::typing something:: Ah, yes... Here it is. Your reservation is under the number SR-1244421-2331-23. Dewitt: Finally, I'd like to change that reservation to a bigger room for two people. Support Agent #3: Of course, Mr. Dewitt. Let me transfer you to our rebooking department. The sun... again. Connor went over to the replicator. Dewitt: Vulcan Highland Reserve, on the rocks. Make it a double. The replicator played a confirming noise as another support agent appeared on the screen... ((End Flashback)) But now they were here. With a small overnight bag over his left shoulder and Ayemet's hand in his right hand, he went for the reception desk in an entrance hall that was lush and abundant in size and decoration. The sun was filling the big hall, and all kinds of employees were going their ways. Dewitt: I am not even sure if I've ever been in a room this... luxurious... Jacin: Response As they approached the reception, a tall woman smiled warmly. Connor put a PADD on the wooden desk. Dewitt: We've booked one of your suites for two nights. Receptionist: ::Taking the PADD, looking into computer:: Ah, yes, the Dewitts! Dewitt: I... We... ::looking to Ayemet:: Jacin: Response The receptionist handed them small keycards and smiled warmly. Receptionist: We have you in Room 410, one of our honeymoon suites with beach views. All your expenses are covered. Enjoy your stay! Connor took the two keycards and felt like a little boy as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks when he heard the word honeymoon. As he turned around, he felt Ayemet at his side again. Dewitt: So the Dewitts now... In the honeymoon suite... Did I miss something? Jacin: Response TAG/TBC -- Lt. Connor Dewitt Engineer USS Arrow A239901CD3
  20. The Arrow's CO has done a lot of self-reflection this leave and I think this sim deserves special recognition for the delicate balance it manages to strike with a complex, emotional topic and not at all because it implies the benefits of listening to his XO. That had absolutely nothing to do with this post. At all. Bravo, Skip. ================================= ((Deck 1, Captain’s Ready Room, USS Arrow)) Dewitt: Permission to speak freely, Sir? Shayne: We’re alone. That was as good as permission, as far as Shayne was concerned. From day one, his policy had been that the formality of command largely ceased in the confines of a singular, private conversation. He knew that his love of the chain of command could be a noose as easily as it was a guide, and he was determined to not be hanged by his dedication to protocol like some sort of stuffy, intransigent bureaucrat. Thus, anyone- from the lowliest crewmen to the most senior of his officers- held his attention and his confidence while alone in the environs of the ready room. It was a sacred trust, one Shayne was pleased to know he’d never had reason or need to break. Dewitt: I have talked a lot to one of the Cadets from the Libris, Ginny Lacy. I guess she is the brain behind the automation of the ship. She's holding the belief that an AI has a more complete and deterministic picture of heated situations and how to solve them. ::pause and taking another sip:: I can think of a million reasons why I believe an automated AI-based ship is a bad idea... But I cannot put off the thought that there is some truth to what she said. Shayne heard the Lieutenant’s words, and secretly, inwardly began to build defenses around himself. It was natural, second nature, to be exact, and it was a method of maintaining his emotional equilibrium without sacrificing awareness of the moment. But Niac’s words gruffly scampered up his brain stem like a vertical Jefferies Tube, wagged a vaguely hircine finger in disapproval, and then vanished back through the hatch. No, this time he would be better. This time he’d trust his crew. Shayne: There is. Before it had become a topic of personal contention for the captain, he’d often wrestled with the idea of AI ships himself. It seemed that ninety percent of the personnel aboard a given starship were there specifically to attend to the personnel aboard the starship. Doctors, counselors, environmental engineers, communications officers, that one schmuck saddled with corralling the various pets that escaped quarters during crises and took the opportunity to mate, leading to callico-targ hybrids that no one was qualified to look after… wow, his mind flew off the track. The point was that it was an old argument, and even without the normal recrimination that would accompany the notion, Shayne had to admit that the cold logic of steel and circuits would be a comforting distance for the fleet to maintain. But it was too cold for him. Sometimes when he looked at ships in space, he’d think about their beauty or their power. And yet, when they occasionally emerged from the eclipse of a moon, or left the native sun far behind, he couldn’t help but think how impossibly cold they must be. Shivering duranium and frost-encrusted nacelles and… just cold. Dewitt: As I'm collecting those pips on my collar... I'm just wondering how you deal with that... Heated decisions will always be made with an incomplete set of information... Part of it seems like a mixture of a gut feeling and hope. Shayne kept his bearing stern and thoughtful, but inside, it was like a long-forgotten sun had risen from behind a cloud bank. So much of what he’d felt was being spelled out better than he’d ever been able to consolidate it, and it seemed that he was being rewarded for listening to Niac’s words, if only in the form of validation. It hadn’t been just him. It was reasonable. It was feared, and difficult, and challenging, and there was no easy solution, and now his place in all this- in all this- was becoming, if not clearer, then more trustworthy. Shayne: You couldn’t be more correct. In my experience, every officer contends in a different way. That’s where you’ll find your sense of style, of leadership. But for me? I think like an Ops officer, and a pilot. Aviate, navigate, communicate… and do the best you can. It wasn’t much of a response, but it was the truth, and he held close to the validity of these approaches, even if they weren’t for everyone. Dewitt: How do you make those decisions without doubt and without charging yourself if things go south? Shayne stared at Dewitt for a moment, nonplussed. Before, the relevance these questions had to Shayne was something of a novelty, an enjoyable detail in an otherwise rapidly changing life. But now, it was almost like the young lieutenant was reading Shayne’s mind. How very much like the captain Dewitt was starting to become, and for the life of him, Shayne could not determine whether that was bad or good. Shayne: “When I was a child I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things…” Randal Shayne held much of religion in great contempt, and made it more dangerously clear than most in his position. Tolerance and respect were still possible, but he would not be satisfied with the bludgeon that faith had become so often on his homeworld in the past. One must live it, embody it, and serve it as much as it served them, and in the pursuit of this agenda, Shayne had taken to skimming the holy texts of many faiths around the Alpha Quadrant. It was such a pity he couldn’t believe; the churches were beautiful, the stained glass telling stories that words might have mangled, and the words… twisted to evil so often, and yet… Shayne: You are asking the right questions, but the wrong person. Only you can answer them, in time, and with much deliberation, and much error. And the permission to make those errors, those choices… starts with your leader, and slowly, you find conviction sufficient to supply your own. And then you decide, and learn, and if you are right more often than you are wrong, they make you a captain. It was not the fountain of wisdom Shayne wished to provide, nor the simple answer he himself so desperately craved as a nascent lieutenant, looking with awe and anxiety at the ever-increasing obligations and possibilities open to him. Shayne knew the willingness to dive in, even without knowing, despite the desire to know as much as possible, was part of what made a good leader, or at least a good star service captain. It sounded so reckless, so self-serving, and yet, no ship was safe in port. No soul would blossom in confinement. And no words could convey a truth they weren’t designed to bear. Dewitt: Response Shayne: Our success is built on failure. And so long as you are ready to learn, and answer for the consequences, and accept the burden that is the metal at your collar, I give you permission to fail, Mr. Dewitt. And perhaps together we will find the answers you so keenly seek. For a moment, the uniforms didn’t matter. The ranks didn’t matter. They were but two men; one freshly proven and looking towards the future, and the other watching from farther down the road, at the storms and the rockslides and the many dead canaries, and trying to shout in a hoarse whisper… “awake!” Dewitt: Response Tag/TBC (END?)
  21. ((Interior, Main Engineering, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) Despite the recent progress he made with Lieutenant Commander R'Ariel, and even before Lieutenant Dewitt shared the good news about their long-hoped EPS overhaul, Ensign Nolen Hobart planned to avoid the “fun.” He knew that, as wave after wave of Arrow crew beamed down to “Space Vegas,” as some of the humans had taken to calling it, the ship would grow ever more still. The buzz of excitement had been building steadily since they set toward Deep Space 33, known ahead of time to be but a waypoint for bolder and brighter destinations, but it hadn’t grown in Nolen. As impressionable as his own mind could be by the press of others’ feelings upon him, his own, personally-cultivated dread at what he might sense even from orbit served as a robust levy against the rising tide. As high as the crests of anticipation seemed to be reaching, Ensign Hobart knew that down on Freecloud itself, if the lights wouldn’t blind him and the sounds wouldn’t deafen him, he would find himself struggling to keep his head above water. But there, as he made preparations for the upcoming overhaul, amidst the emotional buzz of the crew, an entirely different kind of buzz caught Nolen's attention. The power feed along the wall to the subspace transceiver was vibrating. Hobart: ::curiosity:: Huh. Vibrating equipment was generally not a great sign. Some equipment was meant to vibrate, but usually not for very long, and not without some kind of readout about what it was doing. Some equipment vibrated because some of its moving parts had come loose or required lubrication. But a power feed had no moving parts. Or, it wasn't supposed to. Nolen ran a system diagnostic. While he waited, he looked around the compartment. Empty again. He could get used to this, so long as the work was interesting. Connor had been there not that long ago, but he’d run off to Shuttlebay 1 to meet Ensign Slipka. Gripping the loop of a ceramic mug—a family gift, painted on its exterior a dubious declaration of Nolen's rank among and above the galaxy’s engineers—he brought it up under his nose, and gave the contents a long, satisfying sniff. The computer gave him a cheerful chirp and Nolen took a sip of his coffee. The results of the diagnostic were unsatisfying. No significant power fluctuations. No indication of any interruptions or irregularities at all. The computer thought this was great news. Nolen knew it was not. Hobart: ::concern:: Huh. He tried to recall who was on the bridge for this shift. Connor had mentioned who, but Nolen was too busy looking forward to the EPS overhaul that had finally been approved—and on a ship that had emptied its personnel, no less!—to pay that much attention to minor details like names and command structure. He tapped his combadge, expecting to open a channel to the Bridge and… whomever was there. He was surprised, not by the identity of the Officer of the Deck, but by the fact that his combadge started talking at him. Gott (recorded): =/\= …problems? Gott stuck? Have no fear, ‘cause I've Gott you! For a limited— =/\= Ensign Hobart had never before slapped his hand against his combadge with such determination or force. He ran a hand through his soft, wavy brown hair and grabbed a fistful. A sharp tug confirmed that he was not, in fact, in the midst of a nightmare. He gave it two more sharp tugs, just in case, before returning his attention to the console. ((Timeskip, Interior, Shuttlebay 2)) As the doors to the shuttlebay swished apart for him, Nolen threw up a hand to shield his eyes. The lights of the Billable Hours were blinding, and the noise—was that music, or sehlats mating?—was deafening. Nolen had found his own little chunk of Freecloud, already, right here on the Arrow. He wasn’t pleased. Hobart: ::yelling:: Computer, shut down all external device interfaces in Shuttlebay 2! If the Computer chirped its acquiescence in response, Nolen couldn’t hear it. But as the Billable Hours was cut off from the ship’s power feed, the lights dimmed and the noise faded to a tolerable whisper. It was then that Nolen got a good look at what exactly was going on in the shuttlebay, and shifted from “not” pleased to “dis-.” Hobart: ::mild horror, to self:: That is ten pounds of ship in a five pound bay… It was enormous. The sight of it inside the shuttlebay was nearly incomprehensible, and Nolen imagined that even the thought of it would have driven the engineers at the Starfleet Design Bureau babbling mad. He could make out three decks underneath a whole host of features that didn’t seem to make any sense or serve any purpose except to be there and look fancy. He tried not to be distracted by his reflection in the polished gold hull plating as he dared to creep closer. He crouched down to see that it was, in fact, resting on the deck, metal-to-metal, and, in order to avoid crushing its uppermost bits against the ceiling of the Arrow’s hangar, was actually listing at a disturbing twenty-five degree (or so) angle. He heard the hiss of an airlock equalizing from somewhere out of sight, and walked over to investigate just who had crammed this golden lump into the Arrow’s cavity. As he approached, he heard the whine of an embarkation ramp as it was interrupted halfway along its programmed travel by the deck of the Arrow, angled up from its perspective. As Nolen rounded the corner slowly, he was startled by an intense tap on his shoulder. Spinning around, he came face to face with an upset-looking Ferengi. Gott: Response? Hobart: This is your ship? Gott: Response? Nolen’s eyes narrowed. Hobart: Right now, I’m the guy who decides whether your ship gets to plug back into our EPS grid. Gott: Response? Nolen smiled. He hadn’t met very many, but he’d always heard that Ferengi were very pleasant, so long as you had something of value to give them. TAG/TBC ——— Ensign Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer USS Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3 --
  22. ((Ferengi Yacht 'Billable Hours', on Approach to the USS Arrow)) Teeth scraping and gnashing together as he worked through the last of his second dinners imported tube grubs, Gott sighed with culinary contentment as he sipped a glass of Sluggo Premium Latinum Reserve and considered how he'd ended up aboard his newly purchased vessel and the purpose for his impromptu trip. Word had reached him in his small but gradually expanding counseling suites aboard Deep Space Thirty Three that the USS Arrow, home to many of his current roster of patients, had experienced grave trauma during the course of their last mission. It had concerned him to learn that many people had died and many more had been injured, mostly because he wasn't immediately able to book them for urgent crisis care for which he charged a significant premium. He'd been horrified at the thought of all that trauma and the associated anecdotes he could use to flesh out his next book going to waste so he'd decided to make his inaugural journey aboard the Billable, a spacious and luxurious yacht built to his exacting specifications and paid for with a small portion of the latinum he was making via his Interspecies Medical Exchange consultancy fee. Although it had taken far longer to complete then originally planned, largely due to his constant need to augment and improve the interior design features, Gott had to admit to finally being satisfied in a vessel that could serve as both home and office quite literally anywhere. The craft's overlong and tall body contained three decks and an observation dome, decorated in a style some would call 'ostentatiously garish' and which those same opinionated observers would silently envy. The lower deck, where the various engine bits and...pipes, he assumed....held little interest for him aside from containing the lobby to his office, where a tranquil fountain and soothing bogs created the gateway to his mid-deck, which contained a palatial end to end counseling suite that even the Nagus would be hard pressed to improve upon. The living carpet, bioengineered to give warmth and tactile feedback via his delicate feet, stretched from wall to wall and his 'listening couch,' upon which he could recline for maximum psychological insight, created a soothing liquid filled crescent around half the interior wall. Soothing lights, a robust media and sound system and a sumptuous bedchamber that would make terrestrial kings and emperors green with envy made up the top deck and extended all the way forward, where wrap around viewports provided a spectacular backdrop for his...personal entertaining. Although his invitations to the stations Commanding officer, a ravishing woman named Agatha, had so far been rejected with increasing amounts of hostility, Gott knew it wouldn't be long before his obvious charms won her over. All of this passed through his mind as Atraxia, his digital assistant, handled the mundane details of piloting the green and gold warp capable vessel on it's final approach towards the Arrow. Her synthetic and sultry voice called to him as he splayed out on the couch, his iridescent Tholian silk robe hanging open around his shoulders. Atraxia: Doctor Gott, we're on final approach to the Arrow but they're a little confused about our presence here. Gott clucked and straightened up slightly, brushing back his earhair into a well kempt mane. His voice was sharp and shrill when he answered. Gott: Put me on the radio with them then! I won't have my clients go unserviced...or worse...stuck with only Starfleet counselors to treat them. Or steal away his client list, he failed to add out loud. Atraxia dutifully opened a channel and Gott loudly cleared his throat. Gott: =/\= HaAcCGgGGGnGGGcchh =/\= Wilkenbean: =/\= Uhh....This is...Arrow flight operations. Please state your identification and purpose for approach. =/\= Gott finished clearing his throat and responded to the confused but officious sounding voice. Gott: =/\= Hello? Hello?! Is this thing even on?! =/\= Gott thumped on the comm pickup as his yacht drew closer to the Arrow, handily killing time as they approached. Wilkenbean: =/\= This is the Arrow, we are receiving your transmission....are you in...some form of distress? =/\= Gott clapped his hands together at the sudden opportunity and siezed upon it. Gott: =/\= Distress! Yes, very distressed Mister...Mister? =/\= The voice on the other end of the comm didn't seem to quite know what to do and fumbled out an reply. Wilkenbean: =/\= Petty Officer Wilkenbean...and you are? =/\= Gott stood at the sheer nerve of the question. Gott: =/\= Well of course you know who I am, Mr. Winkenbreen! I'm Doctor Gott...famed author, esteemed practioner of the therapeutic arts, noted interior designer. And I desperately need to come aboard your little vessel right this instant! =/\= The voice on the other end of the comm sounded taken aback and the distance to the Arrow dropped to less than a hundred kilometers. Wilkenbean: =/\= Well I'm sorry, Doctor, but I don't have you on the flight schedule and I don't have authorization to bring a civilian vessel aboard. Please discontinue your approach or you risk being fined under Starfleet regulation...=/\= Gott cut the man off with a terse cackle. Gott: =/\= This is a medical emergency, Lieutenant Franksandbeans, and I'm using my special authority as a medical practioner working for Starfleet and the Interspecies Medical Exchange! Your crew is in desperate need of psychological aid and I'm coming aboard! Clear the landing pad or...whatever it is you need to do...we're landing. =/\= Gott closed the channel and watched with a smile as Atraxia competed the approach and, with only a bit of hesitation, the Arrow's forward facing shuttlebay doors slid open and allowed his vessel to park up, consuming most of the interior volume of the tiny bay. Now all he had to do was wait for the patients to come to him. [To Be Continued!] ((OOC: Gott is now available for shoreleave counseling services for anyone who wants to visit!)) ====================================== Gott Ferengi Commerce Authority Bonded Psychotherapist Noted Author Ships Counselor, Interspecies Medical Exchange V239509GT0
  23. Great stuff, Doctor @Seesh! ((USS Arrow, Deck 3, Sickbay, Surgical Bay 2)) “Doctor Seesh, that's not the S.O.P, even I know that.” Those words decided to ring through his mind now. Could that not wait? Seesh bristled in irritation as that sunk in. Not at Commander Serinus, but at himself. He was in Starfleet, there was a procedure to things, he knew that. He had a reason, Jacin and MacKenna's injuries were more pressing matters. It wasn't just him prioritizing the Arrow crew. However, he knew there was a procedure for a reason, he wasn't in his ship-hopping days anymore. He should have picked his words better. oO Not that anything has been standard about this mission from moment one. Oo He quickly, even somewhat violently shook his head, as if to rattle those thoughts out. Live and learn, and carry on, that's how he got this far. That and persistence. Heaps of persistence. His focus turned fully to Lieutenant Jacin as preparations were finished, osteotractors set to make sure Jacin's spine didn't move a micron. No risking any more damage. A full suite of tools and an error-free sensor cluster before him provided some reassurance as he pieced together what he was working with. That was an exposed spine and burns from what was meant to be a lethal phaser blast. Thankfully, it had barely managed not to be. Adjusting the holoscreen, he could see this was going to be a process. Singed nerves and cartilidge, parts down to the bone vaporized. While it looked bad, his probings gave him more and more hope, everything was still mostly functional. A combination of neuro-synaptic shock from the phaser and muscular detachment was what caused Jacin's immobility. Routine sterilization had taken care of any incidental debris, and the spinal cord itself was, as far as he could tell, untouched, so everything laid out in front of him was relatively simple. oO Did I just see that and think 'simple'? Simple by spinal surgery standards, maybe. Oo The noise and bustle of the rest of Sickbay, of Doctor Ohnari's nearby procedure in progress faded away. It was all still there, but pushed out of the way in his mind, the drones and beeps of his own readings at the forefront. 'Simple' or not, there was bone to restore, muscle and ligament to regrow and reattach, burns to treat, skin to heal. This initial surgery was going to be the backbone of Jacin's recovery. Figuratively and literally. With a careful mix of nanosurgeons to start the process of regrowing the bone outward into the desired shape and his own diligent supervision of the tissues between with a sonic separator and protoplaser, repairs shaped along nicely, until erratic beeps from Jacin's readings started, interrupted by one quick defibrillation cycle, bringing things back to normal. Seesh could feel his own heart racing, though he hadn't flinched at all. Working with the nervous system, complications were always right around the corner. After a pause to make sure his heart didn't affect his hands, he double-checked for burns and damaged tissue around the site, along with making triply certain everything was sterile. She would be bed-bound until the follow-up surgery and it would take a bit of rehabilitation, but the Lieutenant should be back to her old self soon. He couldn't help but reflect that if they were in another place or another time, maybe not even all that long ago, Jacin's prognosis might be much different, much more uncertain. After updating Jacin's charts, making certain she was being carefully monitored, and that he was on-call if anything at all happened, he retreated to his quarters for a mental breather. Talking to patients was always a difficult piece of medical work for him, and hours of surgical work wouldn't do him any favors there. He couldn't help but smile to himself once he was alone. Sure, he'd probably have to get a formatting refresher from Ohnari for a research paper, and he'd never have the same way with people R'Ariel did. Surgeries, though? Give him a few more minutes, and he could go for round two if he needed to. ((Timeskip, Sickbay Recovery Suites)) It had seemed all three doctors had some impeccable timing, though Seesh lagged slightly behind, but close enough that the doors didn't give off another hiss. He was surprisingly quiet sometimes, whether he meant to be or not. R'Ariel: How are we all doing? MacKenna: We're here, we've survived. You tell us the rest of the story. Jacin: Well, we’re in sickbay so… Taking a look at the Commander's foot for the first time in hours, it was already a massive improvement. He actually hadn't been sure if getting MacKenna's real limb back was doable, but he was glad that it was. Ohnari had done some impressive work. Ohnari: Looking good here, Commander. Although you'll have to stay with us a few days, I am decidedly confident you will have full range of motion available to you. MacKenna: Sounds like a vacation. The look on the Commander's face was, this time, visible to him. There was some sort of distaste or sarcasm to it. Understandable, who liked being confined to a biobed? Something was said between MacKenna and Zabi, but he didn't quite pick it up. R'Ariel: Lt Ayemet, I dare say you had us all very worried. What have I told you about ending up on the casualty list? Jacin :trying to sound casual: Sorry to have let you down sir. Ohnari: ::softly:: No one is let down, we're happy you returned, and are working on recovering. She gave a soft smile, but Seesh picked up a bit of worry behind it. So, he wasn't the only one, then. He'd been around his fellow doctor long enough, he started to pick up on her subtleties. R'Ariel: I think you and I are going to have a really good talk about what you sensed over there. He was curious about that, too, though he wasn't sure it was his place. That was much more in R'Ariel's wheelhouse. Jacin: Yes sir. It seems like I won’t be going anywhere. R'Ariel: Looks like you got this. Ensign Zabi, have you been looked at yet? Zabi: Well, I'm not bleeding anymore but I'll need a new shirt...and probably new pants. How's the commander here? They were going to be replicating a lot of new uniforms after this one, that was for sure. It seemed that Talia had only now noticed him, but then, he had been awfully quiet. There was still a bit of 'everything should be fine' he was trying to think how to voice without being too blunt about it. Ohnari: Commander is stable, once the osteo-generators finish, I'll be able to begin the dermal grafting. Seesh: Lieutenant Jacin is going to need a follow-up, but after that, I'm confident she'll be back to her old self soon enough. I apologize if being unable to move scared you, Lieutenant, but you'll be mobile next time you wake. Though, there was a slight bit of uncertainty to his voice he hoped didn't bleed through. She should be fine. Ohnari: ::lowering her voice:: I hadn't had a chance to check the chart yet, how extensive was the damage? Any impact to the spinal column? Seesh: ::quieter:: Spinal column, yes, spinal cord, no. Soon as the nanosurgeons finish filling the gaps, which will be quite soon, she'll need a follow-up for muscular reattachment, dermal regeneration, and possibly physical therapy afterward. ::pause:: You might say she's unlucky, but I say otherwise, if that phaser had hit a few millimeters lower... He trailed off, not needing to say much more than that. He didn't really want to say more than that, thinking about it turned his stomachs. There was a fair bit of work ahead of them yet, but it seemed the worst was behind them. They were, as the saying went, out of the woods. Perhaps more accurately, out of The Swamp. NT/END Ensign Seesh Medical Officer USS Arrow, NCC-69829 A240002S11
  24. In this, @Talia Ohnari has landed upon the formula to winning me over in a sim. Plausible technobabble? Self doubt overcome by abject professionalism? RELEVANT BACKSTORY?! Love it!
  25. I'd be remiss if I let this whole beautiful gag go by without recognition. Ensign Hobart's dreadful condition has led to a hilarious series of sims that's been a great reading. A well done to all involved. ================================================================================================ ((Interior, Sickbay, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) Hobart: ::trying to sit up:: The thuddewbay! Bower'th thtiw oud! He tapped at his combadge, but missed at first, due to his numbed digits. At another attempt, he heard a reassuring chirp. His uniform jacket might be done for, but at least that still worked. He thought. Hobart: Hobarb do Enthineerin. ::nothing, a frustrated grunt:: Hobarb do Enthineerin! ::pulls combadge off angrily, looks at it:: Gueth idth broken. He smacked his lips. The pressure was decreasing, if slowly. As the two women laughed at his expense, he wondered what time it was, and whether this horrible day was close to an end. Perim: ::chuckling:: I am sorry... What about engineering? I'll make the call! Ohnari: Maye try hand gestures...? With a nod to the doctor, Nolen raised his uninjured hand to the level of his face and opened and closed it repeatedly. He narrowed his eyes at Cadet Perim and fixed them on hers. He had no telepathic powers, but if ever there was a moment to suddenly and heroically develop them, this would be it. Hobart: ::tongue clacking:: Tha bowa in tha thudderpay ith thdill offawyme. This was not it. Perim: Waffles? Don't we better call the mess hall for that? Gritting his teeth, Nolen formed a wedge with the same hand, and slapped it to the top the biobed. Hobart: ::deadpan, attempting to annunciate:: We bwew tha thirkut. Thuddles aww thduck. Perim: ::sudden excitement:: Of course, the power junction. I'll notify them! You stay here! Hobart: Yeh, thoor. I thday here. Ohnari: See? I told you the hand gestures would work. Despite his best efforts to restrain them, Nolen's eyes rolled circuitously before meeting Dr. Ohnari's. Perim: I'll get down there and help with the cleanup - without touching any power related parts. Ohnari: Yes, please do avoid those until we are sure they aren't going to reach out and bite anyone else. Temperamental things, those power parts. Nolen nodded eagerly and pointed to Ensign Ohnari. Hobart: Imfowm Wewdennan Dewidd. The Lieutenant should have already been aware, but an explanation couldn't hurt. So long as Perim avoided undue self-recrimination. The important thing was getting the ship's systems back online, he knew, consideration of how they came to be offline was of secondary concern. Jenna looked at Nolen once again in concern and squeezed his arm lightly. He inhaled sharply and sighed, resigned to occupy the biobed for a bit longer. Perim: You get better soon! I obviously need that engineering tutoring. ::to Ensign Ohnari:: Thank you, doctor! Ohnari: Of course, you be safe, Cadet! ::turning back:: How are we feeling? Your tongue should be a little more adept at that speech thing now. Although if you want to express your "wub" for me again, I'm all for it. Perim left the biobed and - just before exiting sickbay - turned around again to give Nolen one last smile. Nolen gave her a thumbs up, glad she could get her mind onto a different task. That's when Ohnari gave him a playful nudge. He tried stretching his tongue as he strained to recall when he had said "wub." Might as well roll with it. Hobart: Beddah. ::Raising his eyebrows:: It'th becauth I wub you dad I donb howb dith again' you. ::wink:: Ohnari: ::smirking:: Just kidding. I promise to only bring it up about....seven more times before I let it go. But your vitals look good, it appears you do have a moderate allergy to the basic analgesic cocktail, so I'll be sure to update your chart. Nolen nodded. With the Cadet gone, Ensigns Hobart and Ohnari were left alone with the chirping and trilling of various medical devices and instruments around him. As she updated his chart, he was content to languish in the pause's calm. Until he wasn't. This was boring. Hobart: ::grinning, sort of:: Mighd nod ged a bedder pfanth ad thith, Doc. Know any good dongue dwithders? Or, perhabth... ::eyebrows waggling suggestively:: thum muthicaw theader? He didn't give her a chance to object. Hobart: ::puffing up his chest, feigning pomp, singing loudly:: I am tha very modew of a modern mador Generwaw! I've information vegedabew, animaw, an' minewaw! ::deep breath:: I know tha khins opf Enkhlan', an' I quode the fighdth hithdoricaw, from Marathon do Waderwoo, in order cadekhoricaw! TAGS/End for Hobart ——— Ensign Nowem Hobard Enthineerin Othither Yu Eth Eth Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3 Reply all Reply to author Forward
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