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IC: ( Before the talk with commander Blueheart ) :: Mitchell and Marcus talked for a while and the Angosian/Betazoid found that he liked to talk with someone that has been in service for as long as he has. In fact Rode had been in service more than him and that allowed to some complicity :: DICKENS: As we don't have a fighter bay, we'll have to use the shuttles or runabout. MITCHELL: Yeah, we can use the pair of Type 9's on board. Their built on a hull form similar to fighters. DICKENS: Type 9's... noted :: he liked the design of the little shuttle :: So, do you have any plans for the rest of the night? MITCHELL: ::taking a final sip of the drink.:: Well since this...:holding up the empty glass:: tastes like nothing. I'm headed to find one real drink then back up to the ship. DICKENS: Be sure to request the transport before you're too tipsy to be understood up there. :: He smiled and patted the man's shoulder. Even himself was looking up to get something stronger that night.:: I'll watch a little more around here. MITCHELL: Ok. Your call. Enjoy. ::he paused:: I think I've really become one of the foogies. I'm already headed out the door. DICKENS: Well, every age has it's pleasures and ... well, we have to leave room for the new blood to draw their own path. Better for them to learn and not relying on us saying I told you so and better for us as we can scold them if they mess it up. :: he winked at the commander :: MITCHELL: Although a lot of our junior officers split already. I'll see if I can find a few and observe from a distance. Make sure there's no brawls like the captain said before I go back up. DICKENS: So you're after all a good starfleet commander. I better keep myself in your favour for the time you end up as captain of your own ship! ::He nodded and headed for the door, depositing the glass on a table before he left. He looked at him as he left the room and Marcus sipped from his beverage again before being reached by Blueheart :: ( Later ) BLUEHEART: Congratulations, XO.::Their glasses clinked.:: DICKENS: Thanks sir, I hope to be at the level you expect. :: The CO and the now FO returned to the ballroom and Marcus stopped while Raj moved on. There he looked around, some of the crew had already left the place, he hoped to have them all coming back and that they could mix like the crew was on the Avandar. He couldn't avoid to think about those days and checking his memories he thought if he could have done something different about Vojana, maybe try giving her more room to widen her work and experience, maybe spending more time with her, but his duties as FO prevented to give her any more time as their missions demanded a lot of dedication. At least this issue has been solved by his former wife so this time he'll have all the time he needed to dedicate to the ship and the crew.:: :: He looked on the present people around and looked at them. He looked at a pair of women that were talking about themselves and giggling looking here and there and a thought of approaching them crossed his mind but discarded it as he found it not proper still feeling like he had a kind of debt with Vojana. :: KELROD: oO Come on, she made it clear Oo DICKENS: oO Yes, but you don't just forget a relationship that has lasted for years that easily. Oo KELROD: oO Hey, she'd been partially my wife too, but you must realize that you haven't really had a relationship in the past months of husband and wife. She focused on her civilian doctor task and you on your FO job on the Avandar. This has to come Oo DICKENS: oO You mean it's my fault? Oo KELROD: oO I mean that it's something that happens... life is complicated and both of you had quite different points of view. After all she resigned from Starfleet and you escalated through the ranks. You represented what she come to hate and that duality could not end in a good way Oo DICKENS: oO I can't believe that argument. If there's a will, there's a way. She just gave up too soon. I was going to ask for a transfer, even to resign if they deny me that, but she wanted it too early. I couldn't leave Starfleet the next day... Oo KELROD: oO And that's when she loosed... and she get it straight. I believe that she did the right move, for the good of the two of you. So why won't you have some fun and distract your mind from that for a while. You can mourn all you want in your quarters, but we're at a party. Oo DICKENS: oO You know what, have fun yourself, I don't want to have fun right now and even less to listen to someone like you telling me things I already know. oO KELROD: oO Ok, no problem. Oo DICKENS: oO Just don't let me be degraded to ensign, right? Oo KELROD: oO Don't worry, your starfleet is so fun that I'd rather miss the chance to enjoy it further Oo :: With that Marcus conscience moved back and Kelrod saw directly through his eyes, feeling good to be in control after quite some time. He checked the place and looked up observing the arquitecture and use of colors then switched back to the two female officers and confidently he moved towards them. :: DICKENS: Hello ladies, enjoying the party so far? SILA: Yes commander, it's a good relief from the mission. LARISA: You seem to be a bit out of it sir. DICKENS: Please, call me... :: remembering he's supossed to be he decided to play a little:: Marcus or Marc as we're on leave. So, what are you drinking? LARISA: It's a local beverage, they say it's mildly strong so we're just taking a bit DICKENS: Mmm... know what, this is a day, so let's have a bit of fun. :: He went to the counter, asked for three glasses of the same drink and returned with the woman :: Here you are :: with a smile in his face :: For the Atlantis crew, :: They raised their glasses :: And for all the beautiful officers in Starfleet represented by you here. :: They were surprised but Sila giggled at the comment. After a sip she spoke :: SILA: Comma... Marcus, you seem quite ... different. We've had little time to know you but you always seemed so busy in your work. DICKENS: :: Kelrod smiled but what normally was an inner gesture this time translated into a genuine and visible smile :: Yes, I could seem that way, but that's when I'm on duty. One thing is on the ship or during a mission, but I like to enjoy leaves as they're sporadic and usually short. I even like to practice some fencing and riding. Do any of you ride? LARISA: Ride? On what? DICKENS: On horses of course SILA: I've done it in my childhood back on earth, but it's been years. LARISA: I just saw horses in pictures. We don't have it on the Jupiter station where I was born and raised. I went to Earth several times, but never to see them, even less to ride one. DICKENS: Then you're lucky, I'm an excellent rider and I have a great holoprogram to ride. Easy horses, plain roads... Do you want to try it? SILA: Why not? It's been years so It'll be fun LARISA: I'm.. not sure DICKENS: Come on Larisa, see Sila, if she can do it, you can and I promise that the horse will be easy. :: Finally both agreed and moved with him, each one with their drink in their hands and requested transport to the Atlantis where Kelrod guided them to the holodeck and activated the holoprogram Marcus used to use to relax while riding. However, he'll be sure that this ride will be wonderful and osmething they'll want to repeat. :: TBC: Cmdr. Marcus Dickens First Officer USS ATLANTIS NCC-74682

((In a shuttle in space attacking a Borg cube)) :: Tal adjusted his flight path. As he had expected the Borg had not fired on him so their seemed to be little point in his continuing to tax the shuttles maneuvering systems when the enemy seemed to be ignoring him. :: :: Tal doubled checked the distance from him to the shield that was protecting the Borg cube. Soon very soon in fact at the speed he was travelling so he reached over, tapped a couple controls and brought up the next song. Just hearing it brought back memories of that beach front tavern that Jason had always been dragging him to back at the Academy. After every beach volleyball game they would relax with a few drinks and enjoy the ancient music that the tavern was famous for. In all honesty it had been the only reason Tal had always joined Jason there afterwards. :: :: Good memories. Maybe his last if this stunt failed. He aimed the shuttle right at the center of the Borg shield, waited a few moments and then pressed the firing button for the shuttles phasor, holding it down as he felt a big smile appear on his face. Sometimes the universe did have a sense of humour he thought as he listened to the music. :: Music (Pat Benatar): =/\= Hit me with your best shot and fire away =/\= :: Tal held the firing button down, a continuous stream of energy leaping forward from the phasor emitter to strike the center of the massive Borg shield. Nothing happened! :: :: Time seemed to slow down as his shuttle continued to hurtle towards certain doom. As it did Tal had the absurd thought that in a few moments the 2 female Marine pilots would get a very graphic demonstration of just what happens when a bug hits a windshield. :: :: For a moment he almost pulled up, but he ignored the momentary twinge of illogical nerves. Even when the red light started to flash warning him that the phasor was about to malfunction. This had to work and if not then the USS Apollo was doomed. It had about as much chance of surviving an attack by 2 Borg cubes as it did of flying through the heart of a star. :: :: A loud annoying beeping sound started as the red light went from flashing to solid. The phasor beam fluttered in and out, then died as Tal glanced down at the console in front of him to see what the scanners were detecting. Borg shield was down to 9% but the power level was starting to climb back up as. :: KER, BLOOWEY, CRASH, !!!!!!!!!!!! :: The shuttle slammed into the Borg shield doing warp 6, the Borg cube was traveling at warp 8.5. As expected the Borg shield won the match, but not by much. The shuttle broke through but the front half was totally destroyed, the metal compacted, twisted, smashed beyond repair. :: :: Its speed was greatly reduced, a large portion of its left warp nacelle was gone, ripped off in the impact and its limited atmosphere was vented out into space from multiple holes, fractures and through the shattered forward viewport. :: :: What was left of the right nacelle was barely producing any propulsion and that was giving it the credit of the doubt. For the most part the shuttle just drifted towards the Borg cube, moving more and more towards the one side as it did so. :: :: Bells were ringing, weird flippant bells that were giving Tal a massive headache. He tried to open his eyes, something did not feel right. Where was he? :: :: Somehow Tal managed to force his left eye open, he was face down on what he thought was the floor, something tugged at his waist and left leg, slowly growing weaker as it did so. He pushed, feeling weak, his arms did not want to respond. It made no sense but he knew he had to move why??? :: :: Forget why just do it he thought, pushing, feeling a massive wave of nausea sweep over him. One that had him puking in seconds. His head pounded, it was hard to think and for some reason the puke stayed floating in front of his face. :: :: He managed to roll onto his side, his vision blocked, blurred by the puke. Why was he wearing a helmet? He had to remember, it was important. He tried to shake his head to clear his mind but that only made it worse. He felt weightless, was he in space? :: :: He reached up to wipe his face, his hand stopped by the visor, visor? He was wearing a helmet. Why was he wearing a helmet? Nothing made any sense. He needed to see, he fumbled for the lock device at his neck, his hands clumsy, lacking control, feeling his way by memory more than anything else. :: :: He heard the click, the release and started to pull the helmet off. The puke, air, everything in the helmet was violently sucked out replaced by a cold so deep, so frigid that it instantly made his teeth chatter. It was like dunking his head in the arctic ocean, even the moisture in his eyes started to freeze. Without thinking he pulled the helmet back on, flipping the lock, wondering why he had been taking off his helmet in the first place. :: :: As the helmet refilled with oxygen his mind cleared enough for him to remember. He was in a shuttle; he had collided with the Borg shield. Somehow he had survived. Was he inside or outside of that shield? He had to find out and he had to do so now. As he thought about it he realized that he had to be inside the shield. At the angle he had been approaching if he had not been able to punch through the shield the entire shuttle would have been destroyed. As it was it must have been a close thing. :: :: Still he had to be inside the Borg shields and he still had a mission to complete so Tal tried twisting around until he was able to see that the shuttle was a complete write off. The [...]pit and all the controls were destroyed and there were numerous holes in what remained of the shuttles outer hull. His left leg partially lodged into one of the bigger holes. He was on the ceiling, rammed right up against the anti-matter warheads which were no longer so safely secured in place. :: :: Obviously the trigger mechanism was destroyed, so was the transporter. It was beginning to look like this whole mission was a complete bust, failure. :: :: He forced himself to sit up. Having to wriggle and squirm as he did so as he had very little space in which to move. It also revealed the fact that his suit had become damaged. Tal reached down to his waist, pulled off the repair kit, removed the small container and pressed it against the damaged section of the suit. It took about half of the sealant but he thought he had fixed the problem. :: :: He hoped so. Now that he was thinking better he needed to assess his chances. See if there was any way he could possibly salvage this mission. Problem was he could not see anything from where he was and what little he could see was destroyed and useless. He had to get outside the shuttle, see what he could see. :: :: Looking around he could see that there was no opening big enough for him to get out. He reached to his waist feeling for his phasor pistol but it was gone. A quick glance around showed that he had no idea where it was. :: :: Now what? He doubted that he had the strength to force an opening in the metal. Not the way he was feeling and he seriously doubted that he could have even if he had been in perfect shape. So how was he going to get out? :: :: Everywhere he looked he saw destruction, everything from the front half of the shuttle was completely destroyed. How he had survived was a puzzle. As far as he could figure the fact that he had removed the backrest from the pilots seat had probably saved his life. Other than that. It was a mystery. However that did not solve his problem. :: :: A sudden wave of nausea washed over him and he had to fight to prevent vomiting again. His mind was not working right, fading in and out. He had to have some internal injuries. It was the only thing that made any sense. He closed his eyes, tried to relax, to slow his breathing, his pulse. :: :: After a few moments he opened his eyes. He still felt like crap but his mind was clearer. Hopefully that would help. It took a few moments for him to realize what he was looking at. There just in front of him was the buckled, shattered, destroyed side hatch, or at least what there was left of it. That was not what had caught his attention. What had were the activation controls for the emergency hatch release. Basically a set of tiny explosive charges designed to blow the hatch off in an emergency. :: :: He reached forward, groping for the activation switch with 2 fingers, reaching, pushing, wriggling his fingers trying to activate, to hit the button. :: BBBOOOMMMBBBBB!!!! :: A sudden explosion blew shrapnel in and out of the shuttle. It also created a massive jagged hole, one that he might be able to fit through if he got lucky. Unfortunately a glancing blow had damaged his visor. Now not only did it have puke residue it was cracked with a fine network tiny spider lines. :: :: Something else was wrong. He glanced down to see a large chunk of metal stickling out of his left leg. His blood was already starting to leak out and float off in tiny little bubbles. :: :: Tal grabbed the chunk of metal but forced himself to stop before he pulled it out. That was a sure fire way to bleed to death. He spotted the canister of repair sealant floating nearby. It looked damaged, probably in the explosion as it had been working perfectly just a while ago. :: :: Tal managed to reach it, pull it closer and inspect it. Pain was starting to flair our from his leg. He had to do this and do it now before he passed out so Tal yanked the metal out and activated the canister. Nothing happened, so he smashed the jagged piece of metal covered in his blood against the top of the device, again and again. Suddenly the top broke off and the contents started to come out under pressure. :: :: Tal stuffed the end into the rip in the suit and felt a hot flash of intense pain as the chemicals in the sealant, sealed off both the wound and the hole in the suit. In reflex to the pain he crushed the canister in his fist, forcing the last of the goo out onto his leg. :: :: Tal had to fight to get his breath back as the waves of pain threatened to wash over him, drowning him in a flood of agony and nerve shattering delirium. Slowly it passed but even before it had Tal started to move, to pull himself forward, swimming through the weightless interior of the craft until he had managed to wriggle out through the hole. :: :: Now he could see. He was close. The towering shape of the Borg cube took up almost all of his vision until he turned to look around. In the distance he could see the USS Apollo, still fighting but even from this distance he could see that it was badly damaged. :: :: This distance. There should have been no way for him to see the USS Apollo. Not just by looking. They were getting closer. This cube was going to the aid of the other one. The Apollo must be winning. Now more than ever he had to trigger the anti-matter. There was no way the Apollo could survive the attack of the 2nd cube. :: :: Looking around Tal spotted the photon torpedo attached to the rear of the shuttle. It had not deployed as it should have, probably because the impact destroyed the controls before they could activate the release. It looked damaged but maybe it still worked. :: :: He forced himself to crawl over the exterior of the shuttle, hand by hand. As he did he could tell the cracks in his visor were getting worse. The residue from him puking was flowing across the interior of the visor to collect along the thin spider web of lines. He had to hurry. No telling how much longer he had and a quick glance up showed they were getting closer to the main battle. He could now see tiny bits of detail on the Apollo. He had to hurry. :: :: He reached out, his hand touching the exterior of the missile. Using it to pull himself closer, examining it as he did. It was damaged, scratched and dented but still seemed to be in one piece. Thats all he needed. :: :: Tal pushed, forcing it to move, feeling the pain ripple through him. He definitely had internal injuries. He was going to fail, the Borg were going to win, to assimilate him :: :: NEVER. Rage ripped through him, the pain serving as fuel. He would die before letting those [...] parasites get their hands on him He pushed, ignoring the pain, ignoring the weird sensations inside him, pushed with all he had, like his life depended on it. :: :: The torpedo shifted, altered its angle. Not as much as he wanted but enough that his idea should work. He had to rest for a moment, breathing deeply as black spots danced in front of his eyes. He was going to pass out. He could feel it. He fought it, desperate to stay conscious. His hands fumbling with the torpedo, snagging the damaged side panel, ripping it open so he could activate it. :: :: Nothing happened, the torpedo just lay there. The Borg would win after all. Tal glanced up to see the Apollo take a massive hit, one that seemed to do more damage than it could take but the edge of the Borg cube blocked out the details, preventing him from telling just how bad the damage was. :: :: In a fit of rage Tal kicked the torpedo, again and again. The sudden activation of its engines ripped him free from the outer hull of the shuttle as it started to pick up speed, being pushed haphazardly towards the center of the massive cube that towered over him. :: :: He had to get away. Now that his mission was completed he had to escape. He reached down, feeling for the controls for the propulsion unit. His fingers felt weird and the black spots were back, dancing a weird hula dance before his eyes. :: :: The controls had to be there. He could feel the propulsion unit still on his back so he kept fumbling at his waist. He could barely breathe. That didnt make sense. He had a 4 hour supply. He must have lost more oxygen than he thought that or he was losing some now. Who knew how many holes there were in his suit. :: :: Suddenly the Borg cube seemed to drift away from him. He must have hit the controls it was nice out here so peaceful. The stars were fading everything was fading for some reason his mind drifted back to the music he had given the Borg his best shot. :: ********************************************* ((Bridge, Borg Cube #845325-458724, the 2nd cube)) Borg 1: Federation shuttle on a collision course with forward shield. Borg 3: It has dropped evasive maneuvers and is now firing its phasor. Borg 2: Illogical. Borg 1: Sound being broadcast from the shuttle has been altered, still defies computers ability to decipher. Borg 3: Forward shield weakening. Down to 63% Borg 1: Shuttles phasor is weakening. Power output decreasing by 8.6359% every 2 seconds. Borg 2: Ignore it. Borg 3: Forward shield is down to 36% Borg 2: Computer still has not been able to decipher any code to the signal being broadcast by the Federation shuttle. Borg 3: Stop attempting to decipher. Signal must be the actions of an illogical biological unit. Borg 2: It will be assimilated. Borg 3: Shuttles phasor has malfunctioned. Shuttle is going to crash. Borg 2: Shuttle has impacted the forward shield. Borg 1: Shuttle has managed to break through forward shield. Borg 3: Shall I target it? Borg 2: No point. Scans show that it has suffered extensive damage. Multiple hull breaches, engine failure, systems failure, loss of power, noise has stopped. Borg 3: What about the Federation stealth fighters? Borg 2: Ignore them. Borg 1: 1 life sign detected. Borg 2: Where? Borg 3: Exterior of the damaged shuttle. Borg 1: Life signs are erratic. Biological unit is damaged. Borg 2: It does not matter. They will be assimilated. Borg 3: Attempting to lock on transporters. Borg 2: Unusual levels of anti-matter detected on damaged shuttle. Borg 3: Anti-matter interfering with ability to get a lock on the biological unit. Borg 2: Borg Cube #674296-562317 sustaining damage. Borg 1: Damage in excess of that expected from a single Federation Achilles class vessel. Borg 2: Alter course to intercept Federation vessel. Borg 3: Course altered. Borg 1: Damaged shuttle is moving. Borg 2: How? Its engines are destroyed, it lacks power. Borg 3: It is being pushed by the propulsion engine of a single photon torpedo. Borg 2: Illogical. Borg 1: Biological unit is now floating, correction being pushed by a small EVA propulsion unit away from the shuttle. Borg 2: Establish a lock on the biological unit. Borg 3: Attempting. Borg 1: Federation vessel, USS Apollo has taken extensive damage. Borg 2: It does not matter. They will be assimilated. Borg 3: Shuttles anti-matter signature is still blocking our ability to get a lock with the transporters on the biological unit. Borg 2: Source of unusual high levels of anti-matter? Borg 3: Damaged federation shuttle. Cargo hold is full of anti-matter. Borg 2: Establish a tractor lock on the shuttle. Push it away, now. Borg 1: Tractor lock failed. Anti-matter leak interfering with ability to lock on. Borg 2: Target the shuttle. Destroy it. Borg 3: Doing so will cause extensive damage to the cube. Borg 1: Shuttle has impacted with the forward shield emitter. Shields failing. Borg 2: Switch to back up generators. Borg 3: Emergency repair team dispatched. Borg 2: Biological unit has been beamed away. Borg 1: How? Borg 2: Federation stealth fighter must have taken advantage of our downed shields. Borg 3: Anti-matter leak did not interfere with their ability to get a lock on. Borg 1: Life signs were very erratic and fading. Borg 2: It does not matter. They will be assimilated. Borg 3: Teams dispatched to deal with damaged shuttle. Borg 2: Anti-matter must be dealt with. Borg 3: Anti-matter leak increasing. Borg 2: Establish a containment shield around the shuttle. Borg 1: Maximum power to the containment shield. Borg 2: Anti-matter leak interfering with ability to establish containment shield. Borg 3: Increase size of containment shield. Borg 1: Containment shield established. Borg 2: Anti-matter explosion BOOM!!!! :: Blinding flash of white mixed with splashes of other color. Shrapnel flying everywhere. Borg cube reduced to component parts. Appears to be destroyed. ::

((Transporter Room 1 - USS Atlantis)) TRANSPORTER CHIEF: Nope. ::Ren tried not to whine. How could he not have made it in time for the beamout?:: REN: Can you tell me when the next beamdown is? TRANSPORTER CHIEF: Nuh uh. Don't know. ::Ren grumbled, but nodded his thanks. Who else would know, or be able to assign him to a landing party?:: ((Bridge - USS Atlantis)) ENSIGN YZA: Nope. ::The Bolian helm officer gave Ren a scowl. He kept taking all the good jobs from her, leaving her to stand on the side of the bridge and wait for hours at a time. Such was the fate of a relief officer. Now she huddled protectively over the helm console, not about to let him take it from her again. Ren held up his hands surrenderingly.:: RENNYN: Hey, I'm just trying to get off the ship. You have no idea if Commander Dickens went with the captain? YZA: I don't know anything. I'm just watching the orbit. Have fun on your leave, and remember me sitting here. Just watching it spin... ::Ren made a hasty exit. Yza didn't seem to like him whether he stayed or left. He scanned the room for Mitchell, but didn't see anyone he recognized. Was it too awkward to ask the backup to the backup to the backup command officer to beam him down? Anyway, he had another idea.:: ((Shuttlebay - USS Atlantis)) DECK CHIEF: Nope. RENNYN: Why not? I don't want to take one myself. I just want to tag along if anyone else is going down by shuttle. DECK CHIEF: Helm officer or not, you can't have one of my shuttles, Ensign. Not without higher clearance. You can try going through the command chain, but most of them didn't miss the first beamout. RENNYN: I didn't miss th-- Okay, how did you know I missed the first beamout? DECK CHIEF: Happens every time... ((Poseidon's Lounge - USS Atlantis)) LITTLE KID: Nope. ::The kid stole Ren's fork and ran away into the crowded PL.:: REN: What th-- Nope, what? ::One time, back in Arnmere, Ren's family had packed into dad's old passenger shuttle to leave for a vacation to the Tenaran ice cliffs. Some of the cousins were there, so the typically high headcount of the nine Rennyn siblings was even higher. Mom and Dad both miscounted. As the hatch closed and they prepared for takeoff, a strange sound was heard from the house, like muffled cries of a wounded baby animal, or maybe a very distant siren and some hammers. Dad raised the hatch again and ran out of the shuttle back towards the house. He opened the door, and there, pounding from the inside and screaming at the top of her little lungs, was Ren's little sister Nila. She'd thought they were leaving her behind. She'd almost been right. She was too little to have access to the door controls yet. Their parents were horrified, and counted again very carefully before taking off.:: ::Ren was beginning to feel he'd been left behind on the ship.:: CREWMAN: Hey Ren! Are you beaming down? The captain opened up the planet now that he and the first team completed the formal mumbo-jumbo. A bunch of us are going. Want to join? RENNYN: ::jumping up from his seat.:: Heck yeah! ((Transporter Room 1 - USS Atlantis)) ::Ren stepped on the transporter pad with the other crew. Now he knew how Nila felt when their dad opened the front door. They all settled and the transporter chief began to key in the sequence. Something flashed in the corner of Ren's eye and he turned to see Rover streaming through a bulkhead. Quickly, before he could be beamed away, Ren stepped off the transporter pad. The rest of the team beamed away without him.:: TRANSPORTER CHIEF: Dios mio! RENNYN: It's okay. It's just Rover. Hey, buddy! Where have you been? ROVER: Learning. RENNYN: I'm going down to the planet. I'm going to see if it's okay for you to live there. ::Rover glowed a shade sadder.:: RENNYN: Do your kind like living with the Grenushi? Will they be okay with the Krayav? ROVER: Maybe. I don't know. I think so. RENNYN: Rover, do you want to live with the Krayav? ROVER: Nope. RENNYN: Do you want to stay here? With us? ::Rover glowed a few shades brighter, and Ren took that as a yes.:: ((((Veterans’ Square, Capital City Kuantan, Uzoka 4)) ::Ren beamed down alone into the windy grey city of Kuantan. It was bleak. A few remnants of the formal greeting showed there, a few extra flags, several soldiers packing up for the day. The party had obviously moved on. Ren approached one of the grey-uniformed soldiers near the grey pointed obelisk in the grey central square.:: RENNYN: Excuse me. Will you please help me find the Presidential Palace? SOLDIER: Yes. ::He pointed.:: See that building at the far end of this road that you can just barely see? The one with color on it. RENNYN: Looks like a long walk. SOLDIER: Yes. Your earlier beamdown parties were provided with ground transport. RENNYN: Oh. Guess I missed that. SOLDIER: Yes. ::The soldier was getting into his car, the last to leave the square.:: Perhaps we will meet again. I am headed to the Presidential Palace now. RENNYN: Oh! Any chance I can get a ride? SOLDIER: Nope. Ensign Rendal Rennyn Helm Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

(( Imperia Solorum - Lokesh City )) :: Even with as much of a gentleman that Harrington considered himself, when it came to looking the part, he had left that to his resident Orion. Velitha had a knack for picking out the right clothes for the right job and they always gave him the edge that he wanted. At the moment, he wore a plain tuxedo with the black bow tie and a simple white flower, the color being only in the gold cufflinks around his wrists. He stood in the luxurious lobby of the magnificent building studying his reflection in the gray marble floors. :: :: Looking up from his musings is when he saw her, dressed in a simple black dress with only a touch of makeup. Her blue eyes seem to sparkle framed in the long chestnut brown hair that was pulled up. She took his breath away. :: James: My dear, you are absolutely ravishing. Turner: ::smiling:: Why thank you, Captain James. oO Famished is more like it. Oo You clean up well yourself. :: He took her hand and gave it a simple kiss and then motioned to the elevator where two burly men stood. They nodded and tapped the button opening it for them. As the elevator began it’s ride up to the top floor of Til’ahn’s most exquisite restaurant, Harrington took a glance at her and made sure to check out how she filled out the dress. She was a beauty. :: Velitha: =/\= Eyes up, Harry. =/\= :: The tiny device attached under his ear vibrated the words into his skull towards his inner ear. He gave the security camera in the elevator a quick, nasty glare and then smiled at his dinner partner as the door opened. What stood out first, was the amazing view from the skylight windows that surrounded the whole entire circular room. The warm glow from the lights and the quite discussions of their occupants were at a level that was easy to listen too. :: ((OOC: http://cdn.abclocal.go.com/images/kabc/cms_exf_2007/news/state/110129_restaurants_winstons.jpg)) :: The Maitre'd approached, a young antosian woman whose green hair shimmered in the light. :: James: Good evening, Okeva. My usual please. Okeva: ::smiling:: of course, Mr. James. The brothers keep it open just for your visits. :: Glak and Boruk. The two ferengi brothers that owned the place and catered to the rich tourists to the Duronis sector. They had a seen the opportunity as trade began to rise from the sector and got in before anyone else did. James had supplied a good amount of money to their venture and considered himself a silent partner, taking more the enjoyment of the meals and special treatment than any monetary gain. Not having to part with money made the two happy, and so they did not hesitate to make James feel at home when he arrived. :: Okeva: Your usual Cabernet Sauvignon? James: No, I think we’ll have champagne, tonight. :: One of Harrington’s favorite parts to the place was the use of physical menus and not PADDs or some sort of computer. The brothers also boasted fresh non-replicated ingredients for their meals. While waiting for their drinks, James folded his hands and gave the sector commander a big smile. :: James: I know I have said it already, but you are absolutely gorgeous….though I admit, I’m surprised you agreed to my invitation so quickly. I thought I might have had to start sending you chocolate and flowers. Turner: Well then, maybe I shouldn't have been agreeable so fast if that's the case. I don't know any woman who doesn't like the flavor of chocolate nor the fragrance and beauty of flowers, but I must tell you, that I'll have to skip the taste of champagne due to the needs of my newly born daughter. Chilled lemon-water will be fine for me. James: ::seductively:: I can still spoil you, Antonia, if you’ll only let me. :: She was magnificent! Schooled expression and she did not even blink at the mention of her full name. It had taken a lot for him to track it down and a pretty penny too. She simply took the menu and began flipping through it. :: James: oO What an exquisite woman. Oo Turner: ::glancing over the menu items:: Tell me, if you have just arrived on Til'ahn a short time ago, how is it you have already have an established seat in a place like this? oO In other words, what are you holding over the owner's head? Oo James: Oh, though I am new to the sector, I’m not new to the brothers. They wanted funding for this venture and in trade, I get a few benefits. Turner: Oh? I'm impressed. Quite a feat for someone new to the planet. James: It’s really all about who you know. I mean, everything has a benefit if you look for it. Take for instance this dinner we are having. I not only get your wonderful company, but it gives my rivals pause about how well connected I really am with the Federation sector commander. Turner: ::frowning:: Oh, so I'm just a token to boost your prestige? oO I figured as much, but I never figured you to be honest about it.Oo Who are you trying to impress? James: Not at all! I did not ask you out for prestige, I asked you out because I think you're the most gorgeous woman on the planet and I could not live without a moment or two of your time. Velitha: =/\= You’re making me sick, Harry. =/\= Turner: ::hiding an eye roll:: oO Oh, brother. Who does he think he is kidding? Oo :: James did not change his expression from the voice reverberating in his head. He had second thoughts about having his security on standby. Velitha was being inordinately nosey. Jealousy perhaps? :: Turner: Oh, do tell me more. It's been a long time since anyone noticed that I'm anything more than a Fleet Captain. :: The Maitre’d returned with the champagne and lemon water and placed them down on the table. She also gave them a half loaf of freshly cook italian bread and creamy churned butter. :: Okeva: Compliments of the owners. :: James looked across to the see the two brothers, in their fancy clothes looking at them greedily. Harrington gave them a solid look and they quickly went on their way. After all, they were merchants and he was a pirate. Not that he would admit that to anyone. Okeva: Are you ready to order? James: I’ll have the fettuccine alfredo with aldebaran chicken. :: Okeva quickly scribbled it down and turned to Toni. :: Turner: ::closing the menu and giving it to Okeva:: I think I'll have the same. ::Okeva left to put in their order, and Toni leaned toward James:: You seem to have discerning taste for good food, so I figured you'd order the best dishes on the menu. ::It was pure flattery that made her say that to him. If he could shoot the bull with her, she'd show him that he had met his match.:: James: Why thank you. I try. Turner: So tell me about your business concern ::as though she believed it was on the up and up::. Surely a man in your position does more than deliver supplies to the Resort. James: My position? You flatter me, Antonia. I’m a simple merchant. I get jobs where I can. I have a nice bit of money put to the side and a few perks. I still have to make a living. It’s having company like you that makes these trips worth while. Turner: oO This man has got to be in love with the sound of his voice. He says a lot, but it all comes back to one thing. Maybe I’m looking at this wrong. Could he be trying to seduce me? If so, I wonder why, after all I did send the Orion Syndicate after him. Perhaps a trophy? No doubt he has been around a few blocks, and has quite a few. Oo Have you ever been married? :: James about choked on his champagne at the direct question. Toni Turner was good at playing the game. Very few people could catch him off guard. :: James: ::wiping mouth:: excuse me, married? Turner: Yes, married. Seems of man who travels as much as you, should have ran into at least one woman who would have captured your heart enough to marry. James: Well...to tell the truth, I was married once...a long time ago. Long story, sad ending, but I want to talk about you. How does one so beautiful become a Fleet Captain? Turner: ::Answering with one of his answers, she smiled.:: It’s really all about who you know. I mean, everything has a benefit if you look for it. :: Their food arrived and they began to eat. The conversation was sporadic, but the verbal fencing continued subtly and pointedly. As their meal came to a close, James stood. :: James: I have had a wonderful time, Antonia. You are a magnificent conversationalist. Shall I get your bodyguards for you? You do realize your marines stand out like sore thumbs here. Turner: ::Rising as he took her hand:: Of course they do. They are exceptional in their work. Surely you expected a Fleet Captain to be protected, especially after the recent assassination attempts. ::And there it was out in the open. If he had anything to do with them, it would surely show in his face, but instead she saw only a glimmer of shock.:: James: I did not realize there was a second assassin. I’m glad you are okay. I hope you had a great time. Turner: Actually, I had a wonderful time too. Would you care to escort me to my vehicle? :: Surprised at the offer, Harrington stood and offered his arm to Toni. Walking her towards the elevator (and making sure to give a grin to her bodyguards), they rode down in silence. As he opened the door and allowed her to enter, he leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips. :: James: I shall miss you, Antonia. Until we meet again. Turner: Possibly... Good night, Captain James. ::Dade started the vehicle, and drove away. She looked at Dade through the rear view mirror, and felt a pang of guilt. She didn't know why she should feel guilty exactly. Maybe it was because she had enjoyed it. Maybe it was the element of danger James represented, or was it his charm. He reminded her of someone, and no matter what had made her hunger for the warmth of a kiss, she knew it wasn't his kiss that she desired.:: Turner: ::very quietly:: I wish he was, but there will never be another Heath. JP by... PNPC Captain Harrington James SS Lady Adventure As Simmed by... Commander Nugra Chief Intelligence Officer USS Thunder-A Embassy, Duronis II & Fleet Captain Toni Turner Commanding Officer Embassy Duronis II - USS Thunder NCC - 70605-A

((Forward Torpedo Launch Bay, Deck Fourteen, USS Excalibur-A)) ::Teyvion had been on the upper gantry of the torpedo bay, looking down he could see the empty casket draped with the Federation Standard. He knew it was only a symbolic gesture, everyone did. It was a blessing that it was on the torpedo loading system, so no-one would have to feel the absence of weight.:: ::His mind cast itself back a few years to a funeral he had attended for another member of the twenty-third, not from his unit but they had been the ones who had found him. They'd been assigned to search the ruins of Ohmallera, after its destruction by the rogue USS Constitution. He'd been killed when a store of volatile chemicals, made unstable by a lack of proper containment and time, detonated when a wall collapsed. His family had been spared the gruesome details...but they'd had to weigh the coffin down with sandbags to conceal the truth.:: ::He shook his head to clear the memory and turned to Adams and the others who were stood along the railing overlooking the seating area. They looked immaculate and poised, typically seen in various states of armour, training clothes or combat fatigues it was like looking at seven different people. Their weapons stood by their sides.:: ::He nodded to Adams before heading down to the main floor of the bay.:: ::He took a seat at one end of a row, facing Livingston across the casket, as the other senior staff filled in. A sea of white, everyone equal except for the varying colours on the trim of their jackets and the ranks on their collars. Once the group had assembled, Livingston began to speak.:: Livingston: We gather here to pay final respects to the woman who gave all she had in the line of duty. She was the best of us, inspiring each of us by her own actions and strengths. She shared the selfless courage of her Tactical officer and the heart of her Security team. She had the ingenuity of her engineers and the curiosity of her science officers. She had the critical eye of her Intelligence team, but she always had the tact of her Chief Diplomat. She pushed the envelope in a way that would make her Marines proud, but when the job was done, the medical officer inside of her made sure everyone was healed. Livingston: Her sacrifice protected us. Out that window, I do not see the remains of a break in subspace. I see Kali’s scar, and when I see it, I shall not mourn; I shall have hope. Fleet Captain Nicholotti gave us strength in life, and the courage to use that strength. Let us honor her by our actions and our deeds. ::He took another pause.:: Livingston: If anyone else has words to share, speak now. ::Teyvion listened as those who knew Nicholotti better than he did spoke. The first was a man he didn't recognise but he assumed, from his white undershirt, that he commanded a vessel. Maybe he would be the one to take command of the Excalibur...or would it be Livingston...or someone else.:: ::Skyfire spoke next followed by Orman...which was quite an experience. He had to suppress a grin as she spoke, her voice full of emotion, it was refreshing to hear someone provide such and honest eulogy. So often it was all positive and ignored peoples faults, which was all well and good in its way, but to speak of your love for someone who you admitted was flawed seemed only to reinforce how much they meant to you. That you cared for them despite the fact they weren't perfect....but who was.:: ::Brek, Taybrim and the others all spoke of the Captain, their own personal words of tribute to their fallen Commander. As the speeches came to a close Livingston returned to the stand and cast his eyes towards the Trill:: Livingston: Lieutenant Kesaan, if you will. Kesaan: ::Standing:: Sir. ::He pulled himself the full attention, his eyes fixed in the distance and began to speak.:: Kesaan: Present, arms! ::Heard the unifying shift as the seven members of his team brought their weapons to a salute.:: Kesaan: Stand ready! ::He saw several of the crew look up towards the gantry as Adams and the rest shifted their stance, aiming their weapons forward over the casket. Typically an honour guard would not fire over the congregation but the situation was a little restrained by the surroundings.:: Kesaan: Fire! ::Crack.:: ::The sound rang out and echoed throughout the torpedo bay. Adams had heeded his warning and reduced the chemical component in the blank firing charge so the reverberating sound was loud but wasn't deafening. The rifles weren't standard issue equipment, they were primarily used as training aids for zero-gravity operations, their weight and recoil far greater than a standard phaser rifle, and for ceremonial occasions such as this.:: Kesaan: Ready. Fire! ::Crack:: ::The second shot pierced the silence.:: Kesaan: Ready. Fire! ::Crack:: Kesaan: Order, arms! ::The words vanished into silence along with the echo of the final volley. The entire room falling into stillness as the assembled staff stood and the casket began to move along the loading channel. The flag of the Federation carefully removed as it passed and folded neatly as the empty container was loaded into the launching system.:: ::It fired.:: ::The Chief of the Boat blew his whistle, signaling that the Captain was leaving the ship one last time, and the small memorial to Nicholotti appeared in space, beyond the viewing window.:: ::The two fighters, currently being piloted by the other two members of his unit, dropped down from where they had been holding position and took up a position behind each flank of the casket as it sped out into space, the Captain taking the lead in flight one last time. Their engine wake modulated to produce a slightly silvered plasma trail, clearly something the flight crew had done themselves but it seemed appropriate. After a short period they turned as one and banked away in opposing directions leaving the empty vessel streaming on towards the remains of the void.:: ::He didn't know if these things had names or numbers or if they were even recorded, but he would now always think of that silver mark in the fabric of space as 'Kalianna's Scar'. Slowly the casket became a speck and then faded into the distance. Livingston returned to the podium once more to address the congregation.:: Livingston: As others have said, Fleet Captain Nicholotti would want us to go on, zestfully pursuing life. She herself has set us on that path, leaving instructions for that I shall presently carry out regarding recognition for the service of her officers. I think we can do with a change of scenery, so we have some refreshments waiting in our Crew Lounge. Please join me there. ::Slowly, individually or in groups, the crew filed out - leaving nothing but an arrangement of empty chairs in their wake and one chair, on the bridge, more empty than most.:: ...tbc... --- First Lieutenant Teyvion Kesaan Marine Officer USS Excalibur-A NCC-41903-A

((Night Before Shuttles Depart - Handley-Page's Quarters; USS Vigilant)) ::Leo sat on his bed looking out of the porthole. It had been a busy day, and tomorrow was going to be even busier it would seem. He'd been given command of the one of the shuttles – the Lapuente – and was to go down to the planet and meet up with the locals. This was going to be a *First Contact* situation. It wasn't Leo's first experience of meeting a hitherto undiscovered yet warp-capable species before, but was certainly his first as a member of Star Fleet. He relished the opportunity, but couldn't help thinking that he wasn't….. well…. quite at his best.:: Handley: Just a few more days rest and relaxation should do the trick… ::Leo reached across for the bottle of vintage Byzallian mango wine… and poured himself another final glass of warming liquor. It had fermented well, and had a powerful kick. He downed it in one and it steadied his nerves. Unlike everyone else on the crew – he could still recall every detail of the last mission. The mission to a land beyond the looking glass. A land of horror and of death.:: Handley: I hope this one turns out to be a tad more conducive. ::Leo got up and put the now empty glass and bottle over by the replicator. He was tempted to order something to eat, but then that would only dilute the effect of the drink, and quite frankly he wanted its full force tonight. The fight to the death with his evil twin was still so vivid in his mind. Leo wanted nothing more than to bury those memories deep inside, along with all the rest of the hurt…:: ((Flashback - Bridge: The Forlorn Hope; The Far Side)) ::The LEOs – Prime and Graven crashed in a pile at the back of the bridge of the Forlorn Hope.:: Graven: You're old Leo, no match for me apparently. Father has made some improvements that you missed out on. ::Graven punched Leo in the face, sending the Star Fleet Major sprawling backwards against the rear consoles.:: Leo Prime: Hurmph! Why did you ever let Father mess with perfection? Eh? ::Graven moved towards the good-hearted Leo, menace in his eyes.:: Graven: Perfection? Pah! You were the faulty prototype it seems. Leo Prime: CRIKEY! Random Steam Engine!!! Graven: What? ::Leo random comment was enough to buy him a second or two. Before Graven refocused his concentration to turn Leo's face into a bloody pulp, Leo swiped his hand across Graven's face, unintentionally connecting the infected green part of his hand with Graven's mouth.:: Graven: Uuurk! ::Graven spluttered. Leo wondered if Graven hadn't the taste for chroniton-fever, or whatever he called it, after all.:: Leo Prime: Have some of that! ::Leo was hopeful this green goo was something Graven hadn't bargained for and would undo him. Graven staggered back and thumped the engine controls for the ship. The vortex was slipping away from them whilst they had been fighting. Graven desperately needed to get the ship back on its correct heading, but the engine controls weren't responding..:: Graven: No! Leo Prime: Sorry old boy. Looking for these? ::Leo reached into his pocket and waved the conduit connectors he had stolen earlier on his way to the bridge, from the warp modules. They were small but crucial to the ship steadying its position and going to warp. Graven snarled in fury!:: Graven: You fooooool! You will die, but I am one with the temporal flux. I need no ship!!!!! Leo Prime: You really are quite mad! ::The ship was rocked again as a massive pulse of chronitons bombarded the bridge and the two men within it. Leo hadn't bargained on what happened next. Graven moved back from Leo, a wild grin on his face. As Leo watched in amazement, Graven eyes turned from blue/hazel to red. His skin took on a grey-green hue, and he looked even more demonic.:: Leo Prime: Someone can't handle their chronitons eh? ::Graven was swaying on his feet, absorbing energy and temporal waves from all around him. Leo was worried what he had unleashed. A monster evil Graven would be even more trouble than a run-of-the-mill evil Graven. Leo grabbed the phaser from the floor and took aim at the morphing Graven, who was taking on all the energy of the temporal rift opening up behind him.:: Graven: Mmmmm feeeels sooooo good. ::Graven licked his lips.:: Leo Prime: Well, feel this! ::Leo fired the phaser at full power into Graven's grey hide, but it had no effect as he seemed to absorb even that, growing more powerful and more monstrous with each blast.:: Gravenaurus Rex: Soooo Much POWER! ::Despite monster Graven's new found confidence, the Forlorn Hope was being buffeted and jolted by the rift as it spiralled, now out of control, towards the event horizon.:: Leo Prime: oO Just need to keep him distracted long enough…Oo Gravenaurus Rex: KILL YOU! ::The Forlorn Hope began to tumble end over end. The stresses on the hull causing multiple fractures. Sparks and fires broke out everywhere.:: Leo Prime: ::Cough:: It's over Graven. You're reign of terror is OVER! ::Graven stalked forward after his prey, knocking the helm console over off its bolts as he moved..:: Gravenaurus Rex: DIEEE!!!!! ::His attack was short-lived as a metal girder from the roof collapsed through the ceiling, skewering the vile abomination to the ground. Blood spluttered from his snarling mouth, then silence.:: Leo Prime: ::Sighing now the battle was over.:: All I need now is a tall ship and a star to steer her by… ::The Forlorn Hope collided with the edge of the vortex, being cleaved in half in the process before exploding.:: ((Present Day - Handley-Page's Quarters; USS Vigilant)) ::Leo eyes opened. He hadn't realised he'd been daydreaming, or at least reliving those strange memories. Perhaps it had all been a dream? No one else had mentioned it to him – not even Eyas or Scania who had been there with him. Leo would be the first to admit he had a vivid imagination and this sometimes spilled over into his nightmares… now and then. Was he up to this mission? Maybe, maybe not – but one thing was certain - he really needed a rest…:: Handley: Can I do this? Graven: oO Of course you can old boy..Oo Handley: Really? I mean really? Graven: oO DO IT! Oo To Be Continued… Major Leo Handley-Page Strategic Operations Officer: USS Vigilant

((The Tea Room, Deck 1046, Starbase 118)) :: Roxy cupped her hands to her mouth, stifling the drawn out 'Awwww' along with the other three young women in the room and Oliver couldn't help but laugh a little. :: ROXY: He actually named her after you! That's wonderful. WESTON: :: Leaning forwards in the plush oversized armchair. :: I know. It really is an honour. And she's such a beautiful little thing. :: Another chorus of swooning followed the description as Roxy, Val, Teria and Xan listened intently to the stories Oliver had been telling of their recent journeys. It was only a grumpy clearing of a throat behind them that turned their attention away from the fire and tales and back to the door. :: WHALE: She isn't named after you, Spook. It just happens that your name is also lovely and effeminate. WESTON: Hear that ladies? I'm lovely. :: Oliver turned and raised his mug in salute to his friend who came into the room on Nyras arm. Like a flock of birds the four girls sprang from the opposite armchair and fluttered each in the turn over to say their hullos and give congratulations, both of which happened to be in the form of light kisses and hugs that David expertly and good naturedly deflected. :: :: After saying the last of his greetings he allowed himself to be seated across from Oliver and nodded to the overlarge teapot between them. :: WHALE: I'll have what he's having. :: It wasn't a moment before another cup appeared and filled. The girls now all settled lightly on the arms of their chairs or in Roxy and Vals case stretched languidly along the plush carpet between the chairs and fireplace. :: ROXY: So how is Olivia then David? WHALE: She's well. Healthy and happy and I'm told that's the best I'll ever be able to hope for. So has Oliver been telling you all about our missions then? JOTT: Oh yes! I can't believe you were actually inside one of those hunting ships! The news bulletin we all saw showed that they were enormous. WHALE: Well we were in one of the smaller ones for the most part. But tell me. :: He looked over to Oliver with a dark glint of malice. :: If Oliver has told you so much about me, surely he's told you about... WESTON: No. WHALE: ...how his hand was injured on the Ishkarian shards. WESTON: :: His response was quiet and entirely unheard. Overshadowed completely by the flock rising up at once and shouting in a single voice. :: [...] you for a blackguard. :: The girls swarmed the spook two to an arm lifting up each and inspecting them thoroughly, only stopping when they found what they were looking for. This was followed instantly by another communal gasp and half a hundred rapid fire questions. David enjoyed the show for a myriad of reasons. One; it made Oliver uncomfortable and that was always priceless. Two; it allowed for him to see in action the diverse personality types of the girls that filled the room. Roxy glowered angrily at the missing fingers, likely trying to kill the person who caused the damage with mind powers she didn't have. Jott, who worshiped Oliver after Dusters, looked on the verge of tears and was petting his arm like it was a lapdog. Teria and Xan were asking questions faster than Oliver could blink, and at the same time no less. And over it all Nyra shook her head at the state of Weston, while Oliver stammered and David laughed and laughed. :: :: When all of the fretting was done and Oliver was forced to trudge back through the entire story with Priest and his Black Sheep the ladies finally settled back down and after a short time Nyra ushered them all out so the two friends could have a moment of quiet. :: WESTON: You're evil. WHALE: I'll stop pointing it out when you stop calling yourself Olivia’s namesake. WESTON: :: Oliver grinned behind the rim of his mug. :: I'll just get prosthetics. It's too much fun seeing your face when I say it. WHALE: Looks like we'll be ashore for a while, are you actually going to have something done about it? WESTON: Mmm, yes I mean to. Fiona actually made me an appointment. I guess she didn't mention it. WHALE: No. WESTON: Yeah, the same specialist that replaced her arm. Apparently the team is top notch. WHALE: You don't sound thrilled. WESTON: I'm not...? I don't know, I'd just like to have it over with I guess. It's just that it's been so long like this that I never thought it was ever going to be fixed. WHALE: Well when it is fixed I have a little something set up for you. WESTON: I'm in Intelligence, I hate surprises. :: He leaned forward and refilled both of their mugs. :: Tell me everything. WHALE: Are you still interested in official SAR training? :: David watched Oliver’s eyes go wide for a moment and he set his tea down. :: WESTON: Absolutely. WHALE: Good. We'll start when you feel like your hand can manage it. I have a new Marine attached to the One Oh Third and she's going to train you. WESTON: That's amazing. I'll let you know as soon as I'm able. :: Oliver raised his glass and tapped it against his friends, then the table and then took a sip. :: It's a good thing you got someone new though. I don't know how you'll have the time with two daughters now. :: David's tea blew out explosively in a mist between them, and Oliver was berated with questions once again. :: Lieutenant Colonel David Whale XO & SAR Commander USS Drake http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Whale,_David Lieutenant Commander Oliver Weston Intelligence Officer USS Drake http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Weston,_Oliver

((Dense Forest, Ba'ku Homeworld)) ::The footsteps were drawing closer. There was no hiding, now. Their only chance was a quick dash to the nearby runabout and an escape to the briar patch, which held its own obstacles. Wiping the sweat from her brow and brushing a few strands of raven-black hair from her eyes, she took several deep breaths in an attempt to slow her heart rate. Looking to her companions, she could see they were equally if not more exhausted, sweat pouring from their faces and hair plastered to the foreheads and pointed ears. Each looked back at her intently, eyes pleading for instructions, for guidance, on what to do.:: ::The news had spread fast-in a small village, how could it not? The natives, with the children being of their own blood (at least half of it), took it well, as they had tolerated the Starfleet researchers, scientists and Security detachments that had been a fact of life since the Enterprise had intervened ten years ago. One of their own had gone off to join Starfleet, attaining the rank of Captain, and had gone a long way to spread both the story and the appeal of the Ba'ku to the rest of the known universe. They were proud of him, and always welcomed him and his crew, no matter how alien they were, when they came home.:; ::Starfleet, however, had not been so welcoming when they learned of the...aberration. A seeming antithesis of the normal radiation effect. Those two..aberrations, they had called them, looked to her for guidance. Escape. Help. And she would be [...]ed if the scientists got their hands on them. She was risking courts martial, that much was certain. Breaking the nose of the commander of the Security team had been especially satisfying, just after the word "half-breed" had escaped his lips. Her career was likely to be over, if she survived the escape. The Ba'ku had bought her time, forming a human wall so that the trio could escape to the nearby forest. Now, they were on their own and very, very alone.:: ::A touch of doubt clouded her judgment. The lead scientst had only wanted to study them, he'd said. To evaluate the safety for the rest of the Federation of these "aberrations". Given their rapid aging, he estimated he only had enough time to perform a weeks' worth of experiments before the "candidates" were withered from rapid aging. She had sat there, mouth agape, as he calmly explained they would wither and turn to dust before her eyes. In one week. The solution to the problem, to her, seemed simple-get them off the planet. That was when the Security detachment arrived.:: ((Flashback, one Hour Ago, Medical Center, Ba'ku Homeworld)) DOCTOR AMES: I'm sorry Lieutenant but I can't allow that. We are blessed to have a unique opportunity to study the aging process to a granual level and it cannot be passed up. We will still have them off-planet before they pass away and they can continue their lives. DAISHA::Fiercely:: What is LEFT of their lives! How can you allow this?! Your first duty is to do no harm! ::Softly:: I trusted you! ::She HAD trusted him-with too much. When the signs became apparent that something was very, very wrong, she had visited Doctor Ames, an aging field medic that had been put out to pasture to see to the medical needs of those on Ba'ku. The balding, swine-eyed doctor had insisted on seeing them, and when he did, had pronounced Starfleet's demand that they be studied, immediately, while the effects were still ongoing.:: DOCTOR AMES::Smiling, his pig-like eyes twinkling:: And I will always treasure your trust, my dear. You have provided me with quite possibly the greatest trove of medical knowledge in the last 100 years. If I allow them to go off-world, all of that will be lost. DAISHA::Voice quivering:: If they stay they will DIE! DOCTOR AMES: My dear, I would never let them die. They will simply be...aged a bit. With their physiology they will endure. And besides, just as the people here were never meant to be immortal, these two were never meant to be eternal 18-year olds..I'd just be restoring the natural.. DAISHA::Rage coursing through her:: THE HELL YOU WILL! ::One kick sent the Doctor sprawling backward over the top of his chair and crashing face-first on the floor. The Security Commander moved next, growling to his men to "grab the [...] half-breeds". One vicious palm-strike to his face sent him howling to the floor clutching his broken nose. The remainder of the detachment, her comrades until today, backed off as an unfuriated Daisha Waltas drew a vicious-looking wakazashi from her back with her right hand a phaser from her belt with her left. She was a sight to behold, standing protectively in front of them, dark hair flared about her shoulders, eyes aflame, daring any one to make a move. One did-the youngest-and paid for it with a phaser blast to his chest. The other two charged forward and tackled her bodily, knocking the phaser from her grip. One received a deep gash to his leg with the wakazashi as it struck with her free hand, the other was headbutted into unconsciousness. Knipping up to a fighting stance, she headed for the door, motioning for them to follow, and laying a kick into the Commander's ribs for good measure. Sheathing the wakazashi, she holstered her phaser and, with them closely in tow, raced for the forest, the Ba'ku forming a wall to delay the Security personnel. Her eyes briefly met her grandmother's in silent thanks before she disappeared into the woods with them following closely behind her.:: ((Present-Time)) ::She was her father's daughter, in every way. Defiant. Fiercely loyal. Rules-be-[...]ed attitude when they clashed with what she believed. Now, scanning the forest with her infravision (also a gift from her father), she picked up the heat traces. The Security personnel were drawing closer, and they had no doubt picked her up on their tricorders.:: DAISHA::Voice as calm as she could manage:: Are you ready? ::Both nodded, their language and thought processes had developed almost as quickly as they had. She stood, pointed to the runabout, and they nodded again. Then, she broke off at a furious run, as fast as her legs could carry her. They followed, equally as fast, the energy in their growing bodies fueling their muscles. Emerging from the cover of the forest the bright sunshine greeted them as they tore through the tall grass toward the launchpad. The footsteps behind them increased their pace as well, and shouts of "halt!" and "surrender" carried to her sensitive ears. She ignored them all and reached the runabout, slamming into its hull to halt her advance. She tapped in her code and the door lowered, and she motioned them inside. A phaser blast struck the runabout not more than an inch from her hair. Crouching down behind the nose, she returned fire, blanketing the area with random, wide-beam blasts to pin her pursuers down long enough for her to climb on board. Taking a deep breath, she halted her attack and dove into the runabout's [...]pit, sealing the doors behind her. Leaping into the pilot's seat, she powered up the systems and lifted off, spinning the runabout around and diving with such alarming speed the pursuing officers were forced to dive for cover. The last sight before she turned the bow skyward was her commanding officer glaring up at her with blood still pouring from his shattered nose.:: DAISHA::Under her breath:: Not bad for a half-breed, eh commander? ((Runabout, Briar Patch)) ::She'd navigated the Briar Patch before, but this time was different. Aside from dodging the pockets of metrion gas, explosive decompressions of the dust and radiation warnings lighting up her [...]pit, there was the slight problem of a Galaxy-class USS Centris hot on their tail. While the massive starship dwarfed even her father's Sovereign-class ship in terms of sheer size and number of decks, her bulk was a major disadvantage when chasing a tiny runabout through metrion clouds and hazardous space. Smoke poured from her nacelles and impulse manifolds as the ship struggled to keep up. Her comm system rang in, forcing the Captain's voice into the [...]pit.:: CENTRIS:: =/\= Lieutenant Waltas this is Captain Strenner of the USS Centris. You are ordered to power down your ship and surrender or you will be fired upon. Respond! =/\= ::Daisha smiled. Through the indignance of the Captain's voice she could hear consoles exploding in the background and fire-suppression systems going off. The Centris may have looked intimidating, but in her rush to stop the runabout she was damaging herself. Spotting the end of the Briar Patch and open space ahead, she only had a few more thousand kilometers to go. Her father's training, a former pilot himself, came in handy here as she jinked and dove around the clouds while the Centris plowed through them, to her detriment. She had reached the end of the Briar Patch, and brought the weapons online. Targeting the final two drifting clouds, she fired the phasers, detonating the gas within. The Centris was buffeted from both port and starboard from the explosions and the impulse engines grew dark from the sudden inertial jolt. It ground to a stop just inside the Briar Patch, its shields still up.:: ::Daisha, worried, ran a quick scan of the ship, and nodded from the result. The shields were holding, impulse and warp engines were offline. No casualties, no hull damage. Satisfied that she hadn't killed anyone in their attempt to kill her and her passengers, she set a course for the Avalon sector and, she hoped, safety. The runabout leaped into high warp. Sighing and sitting back in the chair, she smoothed her sweat-soaked hair back and then turned to look at her two fellow fugitives.:: ::They were as she remembered them, at least in expression. The boys, genetically, were twins, but the differences between them had begun to show themselves the moment she set foot on Ba'ku. They grew at an alarming pace, which had sent Daisha to the medical facility for help in the first place. From infants they had within days become toddlers, then rough-and tumble boys by the end of their first week. By the following week they were teenagers, and, sitting before her now, they were the equivalent of 16 years old. They had aged over 17 years in a matter of two weeks, and every fibre of Daisha's being had told her that, if she didn't act, they would continue their alarming aging, to certain death. She had acted as a sister first, as she thought her father would if he knew they were in danger.:: o O Ba'ku was supposed to be their haven, away from danger and Starfleet. So they could grow up and choose their own path. Now...this.. O o DAISHA::Tapping the console:: Computer, scan the two passengers. Evaluate relative decay of cells and identify any anomalies. COMPUTER::Obedient chirp:: Scanning. No abnormal cellular decay detected. Approximate age is 18 years. ::Sighing in relief, she was glad the Doctor had been correct about getting them off the planet. Their aging had been stopped. She also realized, with a pang, that...:: SANUYE::Darkly:: We cannot go home. ::Daisha looked to her half-brother. Sanuye was always the quiet one. More slight-framed and reserved than his rambunctious brother, his deep green eyes seemed to stare into your soul when he looked at you. He kept his hair short, close-cropped to his head, in more of a nod to his Vulcan ancestry than the Ba'ku. Thankfully, due to Daisha's teaching and their voracious appetites for knowledge, they could speak, but were still lacking in formal education.:: TYE::Looking to his brother:: I don't understand. Why were they chasing us? Why, Daish? ::Tye was the happy, blue-eyed, long-haired, near-duplicate of his father. Footloose and care-free, he lived for adventure and had managed to get into no end of trouble in his short stay on Ba'ku. His hair, a deep auburn, hung loosely and wildly around his shoulders and was always in some state of disarray. His eyes, a beautiful sky-blue, stared pleadingly at his sister's, begging to know the answer. Tye wore his heart on his sleeves in all things, while Sanuye was much more withdrawn and, one could say, even secretive.:: DAISHA::Sadly:: They wanted to take you away and study why you....grew up so fast. It takes a very long time to become an adult. It was something with the radiation from Ba'ku that changed you. I had to get you off the planet before.. SANUYE: Before we died. TYE::Shocked:: Died? I don't want to die! ::Tears threatening the sky-blue eyes:: Daisha, am I going to die? DAISHA::Gently, she stood and sat down and held the now tear-streaked face between her hands:: Hey. Listen to me. No one's going to die. We're safe now, and we're going to see Dad. SANUYE::Perking up slightly, green eyes studying her:: Our father? DAISHA::Nodding:: We need his help. Starfleet will not quit looking for us. And I think it's time you met him. ::This placed the both twins deep in thought. Neither remembered their father or their mother. From what Daisha had told them (when asked if she was their mother after seeing the other children with their parents), she was their half-sister, and their father had placed them on Ba'ku for their safety. Their mother was...gone. No one had seen or heard from her. Tye drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them, staring out at the stars. They fascinated him, and while Daisha saw to Sanuye he stood and sat in the passenger seat, staring out of the [...]pit in wonder.:: o O Are they all full of worlds like mine? How many are there? How fast are we going? I wonder if I could learn to fly like Daisha did... O o ::Sanuye shooed away his sister's ministrations and retreated to the back of the cabin, huddling in a corner and furrowing his brow in thought. His father. He would meet his father. What would he say? And how would he explain why he left them there with their sister on Ba'ku instead of caring for them himself? The questions did nothing to improve his mood and he lapsed into a deep, morose depression. He resolved to remember the questions and ask them to his father when he met him, and he wanted answers. He DESERVED answers.:: ::For Tye's part, he was simply happy to be away from danger. This was a new adventure, and the most exciting so far. Stealing the neighbor's pig and riding it through town while singing had been fun, but this topped that by miles. Here, he was streaking through the stars at an unimaginable speed, going to see his father for the first time, whom he resolved to hug as tightly as he could as soon as he saw him. He wanted to tell his father he loved him. He KNEW he loved him.:: ::Daisha sat back, taking in all that had happened, and praying she had made the right decision.:: ================================ Lieutenant JG Daisha Waltas Security Officer Ba'ku Homeworld -and- Tye Ghyurn Waltas Ba'ku/Vulcan -and- Sanuye Maxwell Waltas Ba'ku/Vulcan

Voting closes Sunday, August 19th, 2012 at 23:59 PM. This round of voting only qualifies one sim FROM ROUND 13 to move on to the next round of judging. With only a single nomination for Round 14, the winner for Round 14 is LTJG Lanius: "The Truth Hurts". REMEMBER: This is NOT a popularity contest. Vote based on MERIT, not the fact that someone is your crewmate. Any crews found “stuffing the ballots” or ratings, will be disqualified PERMANENTLY. Yes, that means the whole crew!

(( Deck 5, Holodeck 3, USS Apollo)) :: Vik stood in the center of the room, looking at all the projection arrays and lifelessness of the room. It had always fascinated him how such a place could instantly be transformed into anything you could set your mind's eye on. He was wearing the preferred off-duty garb; a black wool pea-coat, a thin henley-style black undershirt and a pair of faded jeans. they were probably the only articles of clothing he had left from his time on Earth. His wardrobe mostly consisted of uniforms and the occaisional black suit for espionage. Non of that here tonight. :: :: He took the photo-file he was holding and opened it. It was the original electronic version that his father had given him right after the family split apart. He always told him to hang onto what he had left. Vik had looked through it from time to time, usually when he was thinking of his mother. He'd only been through a small portion of the videos stored inside, mostly because of the pain he felt; the pain of never being able to have those memories again. The smell of the faded metal enveloped him as he took off the leather casing. It wasn't very often he took this thing out of the leather, for he never knew what atrocity or accident might be waiting to take those memories from him. He closed his eyes and savored the moment. The very first picture was a picture of him and his mother standing in the kitchen. He pushed the button on the bottom signaling the book to play the video. :: :: He never remebered being that short or frail, or even the idea of baking in the kitchen with his mother. He smiled at the thought of who was behind the camera, and what it meant at the time. His father was capturing some important parts of Vik's childhood for him to remember always. Young Vik would stand up on his tip-toes and poke his finger in to the dough, with his mother turning to scold him. He laughed slightly with a broad smile on his face. He looked up and to the console by the door. He walked over briskly and connected the photo-file to the port. :: Lanius: Computer, run a file scan on the input I've supplied. render all points exactly as they are interpreted. Computer: Processing request, stand by... :: The room lit up all at once. The first thing to change was the smell in the room. Instantly he could smell bread baking. It was always one of his mother's favorite things to make, not to mention the most practical of all things. His mother appeared, along with the pint-sized Viktor standing right by her side. the fresh oak cabinets, the sun outside rising through the window, the table and chairs with the permanent coffee rings where his father once sat. It was all there. Even the breeze blowing through the open porch door could be felt, the same warm all-encompassing blanket that caught him every morning. It was real. :: Lanius: Computer... :: he paused for a moment biting his lip :: begin playback... :: The computer chirped and the action began. He was curious to this experience, as it was one that he didn't remember. It was something that his father recorded for him and his wife to recount after years of marriage. He didn't count on having to give it to his son to remember them by. The breeze could finally be heard, the door creaking as it shifted back and forth. His mother began to knead the dough in front of her, with pint-sized Viktor moving in for the kill. The finger made it to its target, as did his mother's :: Mary Ann: VIKTOR FAELRUN! How many times must I repeat myself, lord knows I'm soundin' like a broken record by now... :: Her irish accent was thick, just the way he remembered it. The computer had done a mint job in translating the audio feeds into reality. Little Lanius just looked as his mother and smiled a devlish little look. Vik couldn't help but laugh out loud, knowing that even though he didn't remeber this moment in time, it didn't surprise him at all. She turned to him and picked him up and set him on the counter. :: Mary Ann: D' you know what I'm bakin' boy? Any ideas? Little Lanius: No ma, none t'all. Mary Ann: This is your fadder's favorite... Friendship bread. And so it goes, dat whoever ya share it wit will be with ya forever. :: She offered him a piece of a finished loaf. :: :: He watched as the boy took the piece of bead and looked at it. He broke a smaller piece of it off and ate the other. He quickly hopped off the table and ran to the other side of the room, undoubtedly where his dad would have been standing. He knew that that little boy truly believed in what his mother had told him, and he knew exactly who he wanted to give that piece to. He just looked blankly for a moment at the small boy in front of him; the look of joy on his face, the sheer excitement of being able to share a family tradition with someone he loved. Vik closed his eyes as he felt the water welling. He bit his tongue striking away the urge to let loose. :: Lanius: Computer... Move to the last file... explain. Computer: Accessing. File contains verbal data stream, author, Faelrun Lanius III. Lanius: Generate male author, use files contained in the input I've provided. Use this model for playback of the audio. :: He knew it wouldn't be the same as hearing it straight from the old man's mouth, but it would have to do. He wasn't quite sure what he would be watching in the next few minutes, but in his mind, it was propbably something he needed to hear. He'd been avoiding that portion of video for long, long time. :: Computer: Acknowledged... *chirp chirp* :: At once the room turned black and a single light could be seen shing from ceiling to floor. Within the confines of the light the image of his father had appeared. The man was roughly 6'3 and of average build. The characteristic cleft graced his forehead signaling his lineage. His hair was still that jet black, and Viktor recognized him to be in his late 40's. He'd recorded this right after the splitting of the family. His face was expressionless as he seemed to stare right into Vik's eyes. He couldn't look away, not for a second. He hadn't seen the man since the happening. It was almost as if he simply vanished, never to be seen or heard from again. :: Lanius: Dad? :: The figure didn't move, or speak. He stood silent and stoic in a room of darkness. He wondered if the image created by the computer wasn't just some recreation of Viktor himself. He brought himself back center and remebered he was looking at an empty hologram, nothing more. :: Lanius: :: he said in an almost whisper like tone :: Computer... Begin playback... Faelrun: === Boy... I know that there's gonna be some things that I'm not gonna be able to explain to ya... Some hard things that, you wouldn't understand. Your mother and I... We both love you very much, don't ya doubt that for a second. It's just that, you're mother and I split for some reasons that I'm not proud of. Some things I did when I was away. I told ya both it was business... :: The man looked at the ground now. The computer had rendered what emotion it could into the hologram :: I'm sorry for being such a scoundrel son... Boy... the truth of the matter is that I wasn't faithful. I met someone in Dublin. We'd been seeing each other for quite a few months... The day I left is the day I told yer ma. I love you boy... I do. :: The tears were welling in his father's eyes, and Viktor's :: I just wish I could have been around to see you grow up, to see you in your uniform and to hold you tight on your graduation day. To be able to see your future family, your wife, your kids... I threw all of that away on account of a lust that lasted a few months. Don't hate me boy... I guess, what I'm telling ye... is don't be a hard callous man like myself. Don't throw it all away, when it's right there in front of ya...=== Lanius: Freeze program... :: He was crying now, standing there in the holodeck with his holographic father. It wasn't the words that had hurt him the most. It was the realization of just how much he'd lost by trying to understand his father. He'd turned into the man without ever realizing it. He began to feel the sadness slowly slip away and become replaced by anger. It was true, he was angry at his father for what he'd done. But now more than ever he was angry for taking his character from him and replacing it with his own. He instantly felt a rage take over, and he lashed out throwing a punch straight through the hologram and into nothing. He fell to the floor on his knees and collected his face in his hands. He began to scream into his hands. He jumped up and turned to the image :: Lanius: YOU KILLED US! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM US YOU OLD WRETCH! AND WHAT ARE WE LEFT WITH.... :: he was breathing heavy as he spoke :: Nothing but shadows and dust... :: He sat now on the floor of the holodeck. oO Was it worth it? All of this? Oo. He thought about it intensely, about how this would affect him for the rest of his life. The man that he thought he knew to be one of chivalrous intentions, who taught him about how important family was, and how at no cost should it be broken up. And to learn that the polar opposite was true of him, it made the last 7 years of searching for the real reason seem like a huge void that could never be filled. He decided right then and there on the floor of the holodeck aboard the USS Apollo, that no longer would he be living in the shadow of the father he could have had. Instead, this was his time. :: :: This was the time to learn who he was, not his father. He knew the truth, and because of that, he no longer had to live in the dark. And to think that a trip to memory lane was sparked by a simple dinner in C39, amongst all the madness that had just ensued, it made Vik smile. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stood once more. he turned back to the image of his father. :: Lanius: And sometimes from the dust rises the courage to carry on... And carry on I shall... :: He turned and gathered the photo-file putting it back into it's leather case. he grasped it tightly for a second, and slipped it back into his coat pocket. He turned to his father once more, and with a smile spoke :: Lanius: Computer... End program... -- Lieutenant JG Viktor Lanius Intelligence Officer USS Apollo, NCC-71669