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Found 38 results

  1. Round 3 2017 Run-Off Set 3: Vote here, vote now!

    Polling closes at 11:59pm Pacific on Friday, September 15. This is a run-off poll, where our general membership (that's you!) chooses which sim, from Set 3 of 2017 (Rounds 14-20), should proceed to the final round of the contest for a chance to be selected as the Top Sim of 2017! These sims below were chosen by a panel of judges (one from each ship) from the sims submitted in Rounds 14-20 of the contest. TO START, please read these sims: Round 14: Quinn Reynolds, "A Walk On the Shore" Round 15: F.J. Hawkins and Lan Riel, "Labyrinth Of Secrets" Round 16: Taelon, "Next You'll Tell Me They're Radioactive" Round 17: Choi Ji-hu and Colleen Bancroft, "Flashback: A Brief Hacking Diversion" Round 18: Tenaka, "Dreams are but windows to the Future" Round 19: T'Lea and Della Vetri, "Seven Year Itch" Round 20: Della Vetri, "Taking Time for a Good Start" NEXT, using the poll above, vote for the sim you like the most. It should be the sim that's the best written, with strong characterization, and evocative or descriptive scene-setting. DON'T vote for a sim just because you serve on the same crew as the person who wrote it. Any crew that "stuffs the ballot" (by having everyone on the crew vote for the same sim to ensure that it wins this poll) will be eliminated from the contest and shamed by the rest of the community as terrible, terrible cheaters. That would be awful. Good luck to the nominees!
  2. Staring at a blank page... it's like there's nothing there...

  3. ((USS Conny - Gard Quarters)) ::To say the last few days have been easy, would be the equivalent of saying the Titanic wasn’t such a big deal. Family visits were reasonable under the best of circumstances. But there was never best times. Jack had managed before though, and continued to do so with all the grace and stride he could muster…. It wasn’t easy. Heng, his father in-law, from his first marriage would always find that one thing to say to sour the mood. Whether it was at breakfast or dinner. The old man’s only saving grace was that he was mindful enough to say it to Jack only. And ~he~ was able to ignore it. Between that and Akeelah, her hoverchair, and her “I have no limitations” attitude. He didn’t fault her for it in the least. It was incredibly hard to give up some control, and even more so to ask for help. He had to catch her a few times when she overextended herself, trying to prove to everyone that she was just as capable as before. Much to Liling’s amusement, who remarked on the “fire” she saw in the woman. The older woman was always more forgiving and looking ahead. She knew Tabitha needed a mother figure in her life to grow up well rounded. The computer signaled an incoming message, private and important, from StarFleet command. He, begrudgingly pulled himself away and took the message in his room… Well Akeelah’s room. And now he stared blankly at the screen and the words that filled it. He read it, reread it, and read it one more time. The context never changed… But his world was about too. They had just gotten settled, just started to make friends and focus on family. He wouldn’t argue it, or fight it. But he would had to talk about it. Jack stood from his chair and walked to the door, just enough for it to open… It would crush her… Both her’s. :: > Gard: Akeelah? ::he called out solemnly.:: :: Akeelah had Tabby on her lap. The girl liked to sit with her, tell her about the day, the children, the projects, things she had learned… And no matter if Tabitha knew it or not, she loved to show that Akeelah belonged to her and Jack any possible moment. Akeelah had especially noticed that when her grandparents were around. Not that Tabby did it more then, it was just felt stronger in those times. She was just listening to hear what Tabby imagined they could do during shore leave, when Jack called. :: D'Sena: Yes? Gard; Can you come here for a minute? ::Tabby jumped down to follow.:: Gard: Just Akeelah for the moment, sweetheart. Tabitha: Oh tay. ::she pouted a little turning back to sit down. It was the last day she would have with her grandparents for a little while.:: :: The Rodulan smiled at Tabby before moving the chair towards and into the bedroom Jack had assigned for her when she moved in. She watched his face. He didn’t look like he had good news. :: D'Sena: What is it? Gard: I just …::sigh.:: Need to talk to you about something. :: She nodded and closed the door. It came by itself really, for some reason she had the feeling Tabby shouldn’t hear it. Maybe because he had not called the girl in as well. Her voice lowered as she moved to him. :: D'Sena: You sound like you got some bad news. ::He huffed, like the kind of huff that said “you don't know the half of it”. It was and it wasn't bad news, because this kind of thing happened all the time. But it affected a lot of things in that person’s life, as well as the lives they’d been apart of. It made the news more of a love hate ordeal.:: Gard: Something like that... D'Sena: What? Gard: ::he looked her in the eyes.:: I have new orders. ::Those few words said a lot. He wasn't sure how she would react; anger, hate, disappointment… he could only surmise it wouldn't be anything pleasant.:: :: She was stunned. Not a single muscle in her body moved, her eyes fixed on him - staring - as if the meaning of the words would change if she waited long enough. But it didn’t happen. :: D'Sena: You are not serious. Gard: I am. ::his words, tone and body language was completely serious.:: :: She was stunned. This couldn't be happening. But it was happening, if she wanted it or not. She tried hard to stay rational, but it was difficult. How could he just leave? And Tabby! They had come into her life like a spring rain with the force of a storm. And now they were ripped out of it again. The pain of that realisation hit her like a knife in the guts. It hurt so much, that she couldn't sense any emotions but her own. But she had to be strong, not show how hard this was. :: D'Sena: When will you have to leave? ::It was difficult to say if he was more crushed by her lack of showing emotion, or his own. But the pit in his stomach was heavy and constricting.:: Gard: I am to be ready to leave tomorrow. ::he frowned.:: :: Tomorrow? That soon? That was impossible! They had plans. Starfleet couldn't do that. Of course they could. But she needed more time. She had just been called Danny's mother and it had felt so good,so right. And now this. No, she couldn't break down now. She had to be strong. :: D'Sena: I see. ::He sat down on the edge of the desk, arms crossed and tucked in close. oO These things happen… Oo He kept telling himself. There was reallly no one to blame. And it certainly wasn’t him trying to run away from anything. To someone who knew him, they would know that wasn’t an option for him. He never ran.:: Gard: You’re shutting down… ::paused.:: What are you thinkiing? :: As his hands took hers and his face came into view he drew her attention to his eyes. Those eyes… :: D'Sena: Are you sure that is the only reason you're leaving? :: The words had come out before she was even aware of the thought. But that has been it. The fear she had ever since he had seen her in that blasted chair for the first time. Would he still want her now that she was damaged goods? He had to take care of her in a manner that was too much even for her. Why would he want to stay with her and play her nurse? :: ::He grew a little defensive. Couldn’t she see that it affected him too? Couldn’t she see that these choices had long term, snowballing consequences for all those involved? It took a lot for Jack to calm down his boiling mind. He wouldn’t let her just walk out of here though. Well roll. Of course he could understand why she would. With one hand, he grabbed the arm of the chair and kneeled down in front of her. Being on his knees made him just about the same height as her in her chair. He then took up both of her warm hands and simply held them. What could he say?... :: Gard: I’m not running away. This doesn’t scare me. ::he looked at her chair.:: But we knew, from the beginning, what we signed up for when joining Starfleet. ::he shook his head and open his mouth to say something… But nothing came.:: :: She looked at him and somehow his touch helped her to stay in the here and now. And there she felt it, the sadness and helplessness that felt like hers but wasn't her own. Her stomach sank and a knot formed in her throat. That was when the wall came tumbling down. To feel that she was not the only one in pain undid it all. Her vision began to blur and her voice cracked into a shuddering whisper. :: D'Sena: You can't leave… I need you. Gard: ::his shoulder sagged.:: I’m sorry. D'Sena: What… ::She swallowed hard.:: … will happen to us? s? Our family? Gard: I’m not giving up. ::he said sternly.:: There are those who have dealt with worse, so I know we can make this work. ::he swallowed hard.:: If you’re willing. :: Hearing his conviction relieved her. Where a moment ago she had been afraid of losing him, now sparked a glimmer of hope. He would be on another post, but he wouldn’t be out of her life. He and Tabby would still be her family. They could see each other during shore leaves, send messages, talk over subspace connections, maybe even through holodeck connections. His hands still in hers she squeezed them and nodded, trying to hold back the tears welling up in her, tickling her nose. :: D’Sena: Of course I am. ::She raised the gaze of her black eyes to look at him, her voice cracked as she spoke again.:: I love you, Jack, I’m not giving up on us.. ::He took her in a hug, one filled with promises for the future. This wasn’t forever. And it certainly wasn’t over. Not if he had anything to do with it. He could only hope that she would wait…. Sometimes that was even harder to ask of someone…:: Gard: Then we will find a way. ::He stood up with a nod. As much as he would have prefered to stay with her forever, it was going to have to end at some point. They would have to rejoin those outside of here, and they would have to tell to Tabby.:: ------ Lt Jack Gard Engineering Officer ~~ Lieutenant Commander Rustyy Hael Chief Engineer USS Conny A239202RH0 & LtCmdr Akeelah D'Sena USS Constitution-B simmed by Captain Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Facilitator A238906JL0
  4. ((Sickbay - USS Za)) ::After what seemed like an eternity after being awakened, the three survivors from the Morning Star finally had a moment alone together. From the time they had been reanimated from the stasis pods, to the evacuation to the Za, to the pokes and prods and scans and ministrations of the medical staff, the three had been under the supervision of someone or another constantly. Now, finally, they had a chance to speak in private.:: ::Miazra Peeex looked around to ensure that they were well and truly alone, before the scared and confused look that had graced her face since the time she had been awoken fell. In it’s place was a rictus grimace of frustration and annoyance.:: Peeex: ::in a harsh whisper:: Starfleet. Of course it would have to be Starfleet that found us. ::eyes rolling in disgust:: Lushington: :: he gave a gentle smile:: I fully understand your feelings dear Lady. But don't forget their intentions are true. Lers: Don’t worry my child, they are by nature a curious bunch of explorers ::The Tellarite spoke old and wise:: Peeex: ::to Lers:: Can you believe how that man called you a frozen ball of pork?! And that Vulcan, the way he manhandled you? I think you showed great restraint, considering how you could have reacted… ::devilish grin:: We’ll see who’s laughing at who soon enough! Lers: ::He rose his hand:: We have the advantage here, let's keep that intact if we rush things right now we will lose the element of surprise and they will know our hidden agenda. Lushington: ::he nods:: I agree with you Sir. ::to Peeex:: Young Lady, Please, don't let yourself get ruled by your negative emotions. Peeex: ::sighing:: I know. I’m just not… adapting as well as you two. Something about being Trill is affecting things. It even left me with some semblance of consciousness while in stasis. That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? Lers: ::hums a bit:: No it shouldn’t affect the progress, but it seem to happen to my own body also.. Lushington: I have to admit that I had a similar experience during the stasis process. Sometimes I was on the verge of sleeping or dreaming the other time I was wide awake, counting sheep. Peeex: Well, if you two had the same experiences in stasis, then it’s more than just me being Trill. Still, we can’t afford me spending any more time in Sickbay. There’s too much risk in being examined too closely. The nurse is kind enough, but the pointy ears are sure to get suspicious after too long. ::The Vulcan doctor and the Romulan counselor were by nature more critical and suspicious, and all three survivors from the Morning Star knew that they would need to keep their guard up around them.:: Lushington: ::Nicholas nods. Even he didn't trust the pointy ears. They’re too smart:: If I may ask something, How do we intend to proceed further? Lers: I would suggest that we divide ourselves and get closely towards those that seem to….get along with us. Will it be positive or negative, it does not really matter….I already have security going after me. I believe you Nicolas have that focus on the ladies, use that charm! Peeex be yourself but not yourself? Could you please do that... Peeex: ::grinning wickedly:: I can garner some attention myself, I’ll let you know! ::Nicholas tried to hide his laugh behind his hand. He wasn't supposed to laugh at the young Lady but he knew it could be difficult for her with such a grand personality:: Lushington: ::he grinned:: It's not something I'm proud of Lady, Sir. But I don't mind being in company of these beautiful ladies. ::his smile faded when he realised something important:: We somehow have to convince them to come with us to our planet. Without making them suspicious. Lers: We need the Captain for that, convince the Command team would be our priority goal... ::Miazra scratched her thin thoughtfully, a concerned expression etched across her face. Nicholas understood why. Every attempt they made to get in touch with the Captain “failed”. They couldn't get near her at all.:: Peeex: True, but we need to exercise caution. We’ve dealt with Starfleet before, and it didn’t end well. We still have the upper hand, and as long as we can get them to the planet, then we’ll prevail. We’ve waited for 30 years, we can wait a little longer if it means proceeding safely. Les Lushington: ::he nods. For that was true. They had to be cautious:: they seem willing to “rescue” our people. We made it clear enough they need their help. Lers: I wonder about that, Peeex already mentioned a few times, but no real action was taken ::He pointed out with a shrug:: Peeex: And in the meantime, we don’t want to spend *too* much time together. As the only survivors of the Morning Star, the people on this ship will expect us to cling together, but if we spend all our time alone, they might get suspicious. Lushington: Indeed my Lady. We can spend time together but we have to get acquainted with some. ::he looked at Miazra:: you seem to have a good contact with my ‘little lamb’ and she seems to like you. ::he looked at Hishnend and smiled devilish:: Sir, with all the respect, I believe they don't like you one bit. Lers: It comes as a second nature my dear boy, we Tellarites love to argue and debate ::Hishnend nodded to himself when speaking:: Lushington: Well, as long as you stay away from the Bearded Guy and Panda Guy. They’re particularly sharp when you're around. Lers: Don’t worry Mister Lushington, I don’t intend to provoke them to much. They are cautious already about letting me near any of their technology. Time will tell…. Lushington: of course Sir ::he made a small bow:: I fully trust on your instincts. It was just meant as advice. As you said ::he gave them a wink:: I'll try my best with the ladies once more. Lers: ::Giving a slight nod to him he looked at Peeex:: Focus on the young nurse, she has shown….affection to you. Maybe their counselor might be of use also. ::Frowning, Miazra didn’t like the idea of approaching the counselor at all. His lineage, not to mention his profession, made him a risky person to spend too much time with. However, if it was necessary in order to reach their goals, then she would do it. She looked carefully around the room, and noted that some of the medical staff were sparing glances in their direction. It would be best to wrap this up until she was released and they could enjoy the privacy of their assigned quarters for further conversations.:: Peeex: ::quietly:: Understood. I can do that. ::then more aloud:: Well, thanks for visiting, guys! Don’t have too much fun without me. Hopefully they’ll release me soon enough. Les Lushington: ::he takes her hand and kisses it softly:: take care my Lady. We'll meet up soon enough. ::he gave her a naughty smile and whispered:: give my greetings to my ‘little lamb’. Lers: Don’t mock to much dear, we will be back soon! ::He gave a slight nod to her and moved in the direction of the doors:: ::Hishnend nodded and Nicholas waved a last time at Miazra they didn't like it to leave her behind, but they knew for what cost they had to do this. They walked out through the doors of sickbay where their “bodyguards” were waiting and headed towards their own quarters. They didn't talk much while walking, they only gave each other a nod before entering their own guest rooms. They knew what to do. The game was on:: ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Miazra Peeex Cabin Steward, Morning Star ~as simmed by~ LtCmdr Maxwell Traenor Chief Science Officer, USS Za =/\= Top Sims Contest Facilitator =/\= A239111MT0 ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Nicholas Les Lushington Casino Dealer, Morning Star ~as simmed by~ Ensign Femi Cattan Nurse Officer, USS Za Z239308FC0 ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Hishnend Lers Engineer, Morning Star ~as simmed by~ Lieutenant (JG) Nak'aqi Socxo Assistant Chief Science Officer, USS Za FNS & Podcast Member Z239308NS0
  5. ((Lomorton, Outside the Shepards School of Medicine, Turisan II, Turisan, Delta Quadrant)) :: The mission that had been issued was to survive and adapt to the planet whilst waiting for the Calvary to reach the Darwin and get the repairs underway. Survive and adapt sounded worse than it was in Graeme's eyes it was a chance to live a different life collecting research on this new alien race and experience their way of life. They had been split into groups of houses where groups of 4-5 of the crew were banded together to work and look after one another. In Cooks band of ruffians as he had heard the local lingo. The group consisted of Commander Kael Thomas, Lieutenant (Helmsman) Todd Manius and their guest and Graeme would like to call a very good friend Lyna Namid. He did wonder how the groups were picked was it by the computer at random before it shut down or was it everyone stood in a line in the playground and people picked the players for their team. Where would Cook fare would he be picked first or would he be one of the last to be picked. Regardless of that last thought his away team as he liked to call it had a good characters in it. :: :: Wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck as the air was dry but cold. Snow lay on the ground. Relaxing so his body didn't shiver. Huge black cast iron gates stood in front of Graeme. One of the gates was open and a lot of young males were going in and out of the gates. To the left a huge wooden sign with the words The Shepard's School of Medicine painted on it. One thing Graeme was nervous every about his accent. Hailing from the north of Scotland his accent was different to the what seemed cockney kind of accent. He rolled his "R's" when saying words and certain words were like a tongue twist. Words like purple, burglar and alarm. He took a huge deep breath, exhaled and headed through the gate. :: :: After walking through the school grounds Graeme could picture there being lush gardens under the snow taking in the rather impressive scenery trees were bare, the bushes were bare it truly felt like he was back on earth. Climbing the stairs towards the entrance the huge building was made of Granite each block glistening in the morning sun Entering the building the doors were huge heavy wooden doors high archways lead into an open hall with corridors all around him leading away to possibly lecture halls, classrooms and hopefully a library. Dotted around the hall Graeme spotted tables with gathered people around them. He walks over to one. The commotion was loud. Listening to the debates and discussions it would seem they were people signing up to take certain classes. Just as Graeme was going to move in to check out what there was to sign up to he felt someone tap his shoulder. :: Receptionist: Can I help you? I know the faces of everyone here but I do not know yours. :: Shocked by the comment made by the lady. Graeme gulped hard, his back started to sweat. :: Cook: Erm yes.... I'm a Doctor and looking to enrol on assisting the lecturers. Receptionist: Strange accent, you look like your not from around these parts. You also look rather young to become a lecturer. Hmm Follow me. I will take you to meet Dr Gray. Cook: oO Wow too many questions Oo :: Following the lady down a corridor. They stopped at a large set of wooden stairs these were impressive made from what looked to be oak. The spiralled upwards to an open archway. Once they reached the top. The architecture was beautiful the craftsman that built this building was truly talented. Hand chiselled decorations were carved into the woo walked down the corridor. They stopped at a huge dark stained door. The receptionist knocked and entered the door she was gone for what seemed an age. Then the door opened and Graeme was asked to come in. Sat behind a huge old fashioned large table it was solid looked like it was constructed there as it would have taken a fair few strong men to lift it. :: Gray: Please come in come in. My name is Dr Wilford Gray and I'm the Chief Head Professor at Shepard's school of medicine. My receptionist Miss Dunstan has informed me you are interested in becoming a lecturer. :: As Graeme entered the room Dr Gray raised from his chair. He was an old man bald with a long grey beard. He was a very stout gentleman. The clothes he wore looked freshly tailored. A quick glimpse around there was three huge wooden bookshelves full of big thick hardback books. Graeme wondered who this Dr Gray was. :: Cook: Hello fellow good Sir. My name is Lieu.... Dr Graeme Cook. :: Extending his hand. As they shook hands Graeme noticed Dr Gray gave a look to Miss Dunstan as if to say can you leave I'm sure you have work to be getting on with. Almost dropping his rank a little thought ran through his head maybe he could use the lieutenant if he knew if they had a military system however he shall try and stay away from that. The door slowly clicked closed. Dr Gray extended a hand to sit in a huge armchair. Sitting down Graeme awaited the questions. :: Gray: So your accent my receptionist seems to think you are not from around here? Cook: Miss Dunstan? :: Looking to make sure he got her name correct. :: Yes that it true. I come from.... Gray: Let me guess?? You have the thick northern accent of Rostern. Am I correct? I worked with a Mr McTavish from there. :: Perfect Graeme originally was going to use the state Kanta but at a guess his accent was probably too thick to be from there. With Mr gray describing another doctor that had a Scottish name sounded perfect. :: Cook: Aye you got it in one! :: Smiling trying to mask his lie. :: Well I have traveled a fair bit I'm looking for work as an assistant lecturer. My main profession is surgery from dissecting to amputations. Anything involving a knife and needle and thread. Gray: Really? Well I have class this afternoon I was going to get some of the students to come and do what I ask them to so they are doing the operation whilst I explain the procedure. Maybe if you would like to assist me. I feel my hands can't perform the surgery anymore. But my mind is as sharpe as the knife used in surgery. :: Graeme felt honoured that Dr Gray had offered him the chance to work alongside of him. Luck Graeme has had a lot of experience on using scalpels and other tools rather than all the modern technology that Starfleet had to offer. Going back to basics was going to be a challenge but it was a challenge Graeme couldn't wait for. Miss Dunstan appeared back with two cups of tea and some fancy pieces. Graeme and Dr gray sat and discussed a position that if all goes well with the surgery they will offer him a position at the university. Something seemed strange it was all too easy to get this far. Maybe the true test will be in the theatre with the Dr and the students. :: Lieutenant JG Cook - Medical Officer - USS Darwin NCC-99312-A =/\= D239206GC0
  6. (( Outside Rajel's quarters )) :: Joren Green had been with the SFI for quite a while. He was the type to follow orders, make sure the rules were enforced and do whatever he had to do, to make sure his superior would be able to do his job without distractions. Commander Prendar had been that superior for longer than Joren could remember. He knew what to expect, what was asked of him, what to do. Like a well oiled machine. Especially in his work with Fallah Rahz, who had been his partner for years. They respected each other too much to mess up. :: :: He remembered when they had been with this crew before. It had been on the Apollo-A under command of Lieutenant Commander Akeelah D'Sena, the First Officer under Jaxx, who had been called away. He did not wonder about the fate of D'Sena. He knew that she was still on board. They prepared themselves for every case. Apparently Starfleet had followed the suggestion to not give her command, or D'Sena did not want it any more after their visit. Maybe both. Now this Trill was the CO, and they had to make sure that she didn't feed any suggestions to her crew on what to tell SFI in their interviews, or do do anything stupid. :: :: She was detained, not really under arrest or she'd be in the brig. But visitors were allowed as long as one of them was there to oversee it. One of these visitors was now on the way to those doors. As if Joren was not standing there, the man in teal collar reached out to hit the chime, but Green's hand landed in front of it within a flash. :: Green: Who are you? Nijil: Hmm I’m the ship’s tattoo artist. Green: ::Flat:: Very funny. ::There were three choices were this man came from: Science, Counseling, Medical. Seeing the bag he carried, he stabbed the dark.:: Medical? Nijil: Yes, I’m here to re-Trill our Trill CO. She called me. Green: ::Ah yes, her spots had been missing, and she had worn this ridiculous dress.:: I see. Nijil: Why don’t you just… Open the door? Green: That would not be your decision, Lieutenant. :: He then looked to the door mechanism and entered a code, that opened the door. Turning as he walked inside he did not see her, but knew that Fallah knew where she was. :: Green: Visit for the Commander. Nijil: Thankssss. Someone called for spots? Rajel: Indeed, please come on in. I'd have done it myself, but was missing the equipment. :: Green looked up and saw that the CO had changed into a personal dress, which was more appropriate for the time they were in. Apparently she did not see the need for a uniform. The doctor mumbled something Green couldn't understand, before they spoke in their regular voices again. :: Nijil: I see. Can we do this privately or will we be giving them a show? Rajel: Well *he* will continue to watch the door from the outside. *She* though will remain here. :: Green gave Fallah a quick glance, who smirked slightly and waved him out. With a quick nod he stepped back and the door closed again. His partner had everything under control, so he went back to the outside, making sure nobody just waltzed into the quarters. :: ---- NPC Lieutenant Joren Green Starfleet Intelligence simmed by Captain Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Facilitator A238906JL0
  7. ((USS Constitution-B, Sickbay)) ::After talking to Milsap, Dial had a chat with the head nurse. Sito Meru had been busy with paperwork so far and was happy to have the opportunity to delegate some of her duties but also to have some small talk.:: Sito: Hey Dial. Prophets bless you. I'm buried beneath files. Dial: Tell me about it. I worked through all those reports about 'minor injuries'. Too bad that in the chaos yesterday almost every injury that was not life-threatening was filed as a 'minor injury' cause those reports are shorter. Sito: Oh, so you went through them and corrected them? Dial: As far as it is possible to reconstruct what happened, yes. I don't want to cause too much stress today. We're shorthanded today anyway, plus, all people that were treated provisionally with less than today's standards are coming back today. ::She buried her head in a wall that was covered with a layer of foam.:: Sito: Don't worry. We'll get through this. I've been through worse. Dial: Really? Sito: I joined active service when the Dominion war broke out. So yes. Compared to war times, this is running smoothly. Dial: We should share supper at some point and exchange a few more stories. I had no idea you served during the war. Sito: Of course. Oh, by the way, would you do me a favour? Dial: What is it? Sito: Lieutenant Regn gave me an unfinished report with recommendations to prevent catastrophies like this in the future. Basically it is a collection of notes handed in by nurses and orderlies. Someone needs to make a file of it and give it to Foster, so he cand decide whether to propose some of the propositions to the Captain. Dial: Can't you just talk to him? Sito: Yes, I could. But this way, he can give each proposition the time it deserves. If you don't want to, I'll do it. Dial: Nah, it's fine. I'll get me a coffee and get to it. Sito: You're not doing by any chance one of those magnificant hand-made coffees, are you? DIal: Actually, I do. Sito: Could you make an entire can or better two of it? I mean, there are certainly others than me around who would appreciate that. Dial: Course. Won't take much longer than making a cup. Sito: Thanks. ((Timeskipp)) ::After making two cans of coffee after grinding the replicated coffee beans and cooking them, Dial got herself a cup of it. Then she headed to her workplace and started working on the report Sito had asked her to write. She opened the file suprised to find a mix of audio, video and text filed. She decided to go through them one by one..:: Report: ::Audio.:: More crewmen need to be trained as medics for emergency situations. The nursing stuff was overwhelmed by the flood of patients coming. A department, outfitted to take care of single cases of injury and sickness or small groups, can't heal the entire crew within less than a day. It is a miracle that noone was hurt today. - Crewman Tox Report: ::Audio.:: I'm convinced that more plant- and animal-based treatments, alternative medicine, would have give us more and better options on how to react in general... Also in situations like this. - Petty Officer Harak'oun Report: ::Video.:: When the Constitution's energy ressources were shortened, we didn't just lack medical equipment like scanners that would cost too much precious energy, but also drugs. Our supplies need to be trippled to ensure an emergency stock for a third of the crew. Imagine it had come to a total loss of power. What would have happened then? - Chief Petty Officer Calady Report: ::Text.:: Providing more EMHs would have enabled us not to call everyone to duty, causing less undermanned shifts the following days. Also it would have increased the reaction time of sickbay's emergency teams. - Ensign Ramirez Report: ::Audio.:: In my opinion, we got far too less traditional equipment. We need to store bandages, crutches, etc. for cases when there isn't enough or any energy. Had we had no energy, we would have failed to provide anything. We must make ourselves less dependable on replicators and modern technology. - Lieutenant Argiop ::A few other proposals, most of them paraphrases of the ones she heard before, followed and Dial sighed deeply. This would be a rather long day. But at least it would keep her from thinking about family stuff, about depressing stuff, about stuff in general. So instead of thinking she put herself at work.:: Dial: Computer, initiate an audio record please. ::Only when she spoke the words, she remembered the period when the Apollo's computer had constantly malfunctioned and tried to train her to use "please" and "thank you" and be generally nice to the computer. She had never found out what was wrong with the computer or who did this to her, but she had learned to be polite even to the arficial presence of the computer.:: Computer: Recording audio. Dial: This is Ensign Dial, nursing staff. Stardate 239108.12. This is a report about the medical crisis we went through during the Constitution-B's time travelling mission that lead us to Earth in 191427.06. It is filed after the mission containing a number of proposals to prevent triage situations like the one sickbay went through during this mission. Dial: ::She took a sip of the coffee she made a little while ago. The sugar and the warmth comforted her.:: There are two main directions of thoughts. One is how to avoid situations like this. The other train of thoughts tries to outline how to avoid overstressing sickbay's capacities in the future. Dial: ::She took a large gulp of coffee and closed her eye for a second.:: It was suggested that sickbay and engineering might cooperate to find better emergency settings improving the crew's safety during ::She stressed the following term's pronounciation to make sure it was understood as a colloquial expression.:: "bumpy rides" as the one we had. Measures to avoid people from tumbling and falling and hurting themselves badly might include an increase of gravity in situations like this. A team of experts should be formed to discuss emergency options like these. Dial: ::Another large gulp of coffee went down Dial's throat.:: Suggestions about the improvement of sickbay's emergency reactions include the recruitment of more medical personal, special trainings for personnell of other departments and to have more Medical Emergency Holograms. Trained medics would have helped a lot taking care of minor injuries that were reported everywhere aboard. Also sickbay wouldn't need to send out people to every place but only where nurses and doctors are required. Dial: ::Dial drank the rest of her coffee.:: Other proposals aim at situations where the loss or shortage of energy becomes a problem. As the logs and reports of the crisis suggest we keep a very low stockage of medicine. Our instruments need energy and without a dermal regernerator we're even unable to close a wound since we lack bandages in reasonable amounts. The main suggestion is to give sickbay one of the cargo bays where enough rations of drugs and medical equipment not requiring power might be stored. Dial: ::Dial used her long tongue to lick up the last rests of coffee left in her mug.:: While this might seem very drastic and a huge space, I'd like to stress that the amount of equipment and drugs that could be kept there would be enough to treat 2 thirds of the ship's population. Providing those ressources without having to replicate or use the ship's power reserves should be standard. And by saying it should be standard, I mean that the reports about our situation during the last mission as well as this specific proposal should be forwarded to Starfleet Medical. Dial: This report is sent to Dr. Foster as well as his assistant Dr. Milsap. In case of queries please turn to Head nurse Sito or me as I set up this report. We would like you to forward any requests needing the CO's authorization. Dial out. ::Dial pressed a few buttons and send the audio record to Lieutenant Commander Foster as well as a copy to Lieutenant Junior Grade Milsap, who was the new Assistant Chief Medical Officer. Dial also sent a bbc to Sito Meru who would most likely be interested in seeing what Dial had fabricated out of the snippets of other people's proposals.:: [[indirect TAGs/ Foster and Milsap]] -------------------- OOC:http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Dial/Personal_Glossary ------------------- Ens. Dial Nurse USS Constitution-B A239103D10
  8. round 3 Didrik Stennes, “A different calling”

    (( Deep Space 6, Promenade, Orb of Taste Restaurant )) :: Didrik had disembarked Darwin at the first opportunity after her arrival at DS6. Dr Cook had kept him on a steady dose of drugs that ameliorated the worst symptoms of his Quantum Slipstream Sickness, but he still felt bouts of nausea when the device that powered Darwin’s faster-than-warp engines ramped up and wound down. :: :: He sat across a small cafe table from Dr Linnea Hanadani, who had been his therapist when he lived on DS6, between leaving Columbia and joining Darwin. They shared a pot of deka tea at a Terran-Bajoran fusion restaurant which seemed to be popping up everywhere. :: Hanadani: You look well, Didrik. Pardon me, Counselor Stennes. :: Didrik blushed at the compliment. :: Stennes: I feel well. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so clear headed. Hanadani: Maybe you’ve found your calling then? Stennes: I don’t know about that. I am really enjoying the challenges of being a counselor, but it’s not exactly being on the bridge of a Starship. Hanadani: Speaking of which, Didrik, I’ve had a few conversations with Starfleet Medical about you. :: Didrik froze, mid-sip, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow. He set his cup down and studied the doctor’s expression. She was smiling an ethereal half-smile, but that wasn’t unusual for her. The silence seemed to fill the room. :: Stennes: And? Hanadani: And they’ve not been ignorant of the fact that you’ve spend most of the last year working with Starfleet, albeit in a civilian capacity. Stennes: I’m guessing they weren’t pleased. Last I heard, I was still medically unfit for Starfleet duty. Hanadani: You’re right, there is a sentiment amongst the doctors in charge of your case that you’ve skirted around their orders. That you’ve exploited a loophole to continue working in environments that may be detrimental to your recovery. :: Didrik nodded slowly, feeling his commission slipping further and further out of his reach. :: Stennes: I understand. I always knew that was a possibility. I guess I was just hoping that I’d do such a fantastic job that it would prove I was fully recovered. Hanadani: No one who has been through what you have can “fully recover,” Didrik. You know that. But recovery isn’t a destination, it’s a journey along which you learn how to cope. Stennes: I feel like I have learnt to cope. Hanadani: Then what’s this I heard about you making racial slurs on the bridge of your ship? Stennes: I don’t know what-- Hanadani: You called your telepathic colleagues “a bunch of spoon-benders”? Stennes: That is not what I said… exactly. Hanadani: Didrik… Stennes: We were in a life threatening situation, two away teams were about to be killed. And besides, I profusely apologized personally to the captain and to everyone else on the bridge. I feel like my contrition should be worth something, I felt terrible for what I said. Hanadani: Of course it should. Starfleet Medical is continuing to evaluate your condition with a view of reinstating your commission if it’s in yours and Starfleet’s best interest. Stennes: I’ve been hearing that for two years. Hanadani: And you may continue hearing it for another two years, or twenty years. That’s Starfleet Medical for you. :: Didrik’s eyes lowered. It certainly sounded like she was trying to make bad news sound less bad. :: Stennes: So what should I do? Hanadani: No matter how many positive evaluations you receive, or how far your recovery has progressed, ultimately, the decision to reinstate you as a Starfleet officer is not, and will never be, yours to make. :: Didrik nodded. There was such a finality to that statement. Ever since his trauma, he thought that if he worked hard enough, stayed focused enough, he could get his old life back. But such a thing was not possible. :: Hanadani: I’ve told you this before. You’ve been so single minded about returning to Starfleet, and I’m telling you that you are perfectly capable of living a different, but no less fulfilling life. Stennes: ::quietly:: You’re right. Everything you’ve said is right. Hanadani: I don’t want you to give up on something you want, Didrik. I just want you to have realistic expectations. Stennes: I know. And I do. I really do. I’m enjoying my position on Darwin. Maybe you were right. Maybe I do have a new calling. Hanadani: That’s the spirit. I care about you, Didrik. Not just as a former patient, and not just as a colleague. :: She smiled so warmly that Didrik could feel it radiating from her. :: Hanadani: Excel in whatever you do, Didrik. I know you can. :: Didrik pressed his thumb onto the paypad and they stood. :: Hanadani: The university is looking for some guests for a speakers’ series. If you’re staying over a while, I could see about getting you a timeslot. Didrik: No thanks. Something tells me we may not be at DS6 for very long. I should be getting back to the ship anyway. I need to speak to the captain. Hanadani: Problem? Didrik: Maybe. :: Didrik decided not to talk about the somewhat ironic masquerade ball being planned, and what such an activity said about the current mental state of its attendees. He had a strong feeling that there would be quite a few secrets, not just faces, being unmasked at the event. :: Didrik: Thank you, for everything. Hanadani: My pleasure. :: Didrik wasn’t a hugger, but she pulled him into one and Didrik complied. The diminutive woman looked as though she was being swallowed up by his bearhug. They parted, and Didrik embarked Darwin though the gangway, heading directly for the captain’s ready room. :: =/\=|=/\=|=/\=|=/\=|=/\=|=/\=|=/\= Didrik Stennes Counselor USS Darwin NCC-99312-A D238804DS0 =/\=|=/\=|=/\=|=/\=|=/\=|=/\=|=/\=
  9. round 3 Lieutenant Tatash: Cold Blooded

    *((Bridge - USS Albion))* ::The last few minutes had been probably the most terrifying of the Gorns career. The Albion, scarred and battered suddenly face to face with a pristeen, technologically advanced Warbird and it's subsequent weapons lock had almost turned his scales white. A warning probably, not to chase and not to poke them… just let them drift away. If they had wanted the Albion shattered then there was not a [...]ed thing any of them could have done about it. A single volley to the hull and that would have been the end of that. But with their usual Romulan unknown motivations they disappeared, warping away out of the Albions primitive net after stealing the traitor and into the unknown as soon as they could get their cloak back online. What would come of the Captain who had betrayed Starfleet? Either way, if the Romulans knew what he was planning to do the likelihood of him every coming back alive was negligible at best. Interrogation and execution was likely to be the order of the day, a wanton criminal with the knowledge of an experienced Starfleet captain now a plaything for interrogators with a reputation for getting results. His anger and vengeance was now going to do nothing to save him, Tatash could only hope he chose the honorable way out, at the end of his belt from a prison cell bar or the barrel of a disruptor trying to escape. Was it a deserved punishment? If the Albion had hauled him back, would his punishment be fitting? If he was a Gorn Captain, his betrayal would have already resulted in him (not to mention his crew) executed and tossed out of the airlock. Starfleet would probably assign him to a penal colony, hoping to rehabilitate rather than condemn, to softly pick apart the reasons for his turn coating before shipping him off to some laughable 'penal colony'. That, in the eyes of Tatash, was not justice for the crewmen and women in Engineering who had been killed or the thousands of civilians so painfully close to a terrible death. So he felt a grim satisfaction, a macabre sense of completion at least residing in his mind. Let the Romulans have him, let them pick him apart like the birds of prey they idolize, vultures swarming a dead husk of a former man of respect. Anything else would have been too easy a price for a traitor to pay.:: *Taybrim*: Commander Falcon, bring us within transporter range of the Valdis colony so we can beam down the medicine, and then plot a course back to the Tribal. ::He snapped back into the room as the Commander spoke, eyes flicking over to the helm:: *Falcon*: ? *Taybrim*: It will be a short drop off. We're not staying for dinner. ::He shook his head at the planet hanging on the viewscreen. He had enough of Romulans for this day as well.:: *Falcon*: ? *Taybrim*: Mr. Vondaryan, contact Starfleet intel - let them know what you got from the Stormcrow and give them a heads up on what happened with Haz Arrhimen. I have a feeling they will be very interested to hear your report. ::That was an understatement, if anything he could just picture a sea of blackshirts suddenly flailing their arms at this screw up. Justice aside, he knew a lot, enough to cause a storm of changing access codes and any tactical plans he had access too:: *Vondaryan*: ? ::The Commanders eyes rested on him now, forcing himself to stand more upright as his back strained in protest. Despite Malcolm's wizardry, he was still wounded. Rest, a few more visits to sickbay to be patched up properly rather then the battlefield kit on his back were needed:: *Taybrim*: Do we have enough power to tow the Tribal? *Tatash*: Not yet, but I'm pretty sure the best engineer in the fleet can fix that? ::He managed a strained smile to Theo, doing his best to hide the pain on his face. Out of anyone, the person he'd last like to see him suffering was his closest friend:: *Whittaker*: ? *Taybrim*: If we don't there are other ships on patrol. They're outside the neutral zone, so technically we can hang out there for as long as we like. ::He tapped a claw on his map suite, dragging it back to where the Tribal was located and nodding approvingly at the roundal of a friendly ship heading into the area:: *Tatash*: if we time it right we have a Galaxy class passing through that area as well, they might be able to escort us back. *Whittaker*: ? *Taybrim*: ::He nodded, satisfied with that answer:: Ok, let's get medicine delivered, go rescue our friends and go home. I want everyone to get some rest on the way back. *Tatash*: Yes Sir. ::Rest... it had been barely a few hours for the whole drama to play out, but he was exhausted. He'd not tried to lay down or even sit after the explosion tore him to ribbons, but despite the pain it was going to cause, he could think of nothing he wanted more:: *Bridge (any*): ? ~~ Lt Tatash Tactical Officer SB118 Ops C239108T10
  10. (( Interrogation Room - Deck 28 - USS Constitution-B )) :: Thomas Prendar loved the initial quiet of the interrogation room. It was a solid gray room, with no windows (as a nearby holo-projector provided security a view in) and there was simply two chairs facing each other. Prendar especially had the table removed so that his next interrogation had nothing between him and the SFI officer to subconsciously hide behind. :: :: The door shifted open and he saw Lieutenant JG Jerome Milsap enter. :: Prendar: Mister Milsap. Please have a seat. :: Jerry stepped uncertainly to the empty chair, taking in the surroundings as he did. It certainly fit the general idea of an interrogation room. He sat down and reached for the banjo slung across his back. :: :: Thomas’ eyebrows slowly went up as he saw the banjo on the man’s back and that he was reaching for it. :: Prendar: oO What...the...hell? Oo Milsap: Don’t mind if I do. :: He waited for the man to sit down, but before he could get situated, Prendar barked out his first question. :: Prendar: So, do you want confess now or give me a hard time and confess later? :: Jerry jumped in his seat, shock written across his face. :: Milsap: All right, all right! I’ll talk! Prendar: Good. Talk! :: Jerry pulled the banjo from his back in cradled it over his knee, hanging his head with a shamed expression. :: :: It took every ounce of control the man had not to burst into laughter. He had thought he saw everything, but this proved him wrong. :: Milsap: I...I snuck a kiss from Charlotte Mason in third grade. ::He looked up earnestly.:: But only once! Prendar: ::chuckling and looking at the PADD. :: You sure? The file says twice. Milsap: You know, I thought it seemed odd for SFI to come all this way just for that. So what is this about? Prendar: It’s about your mission. I need you to explain to me why you violated the Temporal Prime Directive. Milsap: ::nodding:: Now that makes more sense. I imagine you want to make sure we didn’t mess anything up back then. Prendar: Make sure? Oh, I know you screwed things up. I want to find out who is responsible and deal with them. Milsap: Good, that’s why I brought Mariah here. ::He gingerly patted the top of the banjo.:: She’s gonn help me tell you exactly what went on. Now let’s see…I believe I’ll call it “We Shouldn’t Even Be Here”. ::Jerry cleared his throat, picked up the banjo and started strumming a lively bluegrass melody, bobbing his head in time. When the melody cycled through and began again he started in with some lyrics. :: Milsap: Well, the Constitution was a-makin' her rounds, surveyin' Talos, seein' what could be found When she ran into somethin' we'd never seen before (well, most of us anyway). It chewed her up and spat her out at Earth, and though we had our doubts We found ourselves on the eve of the first world war. At first the only thing we knew was that we had to get back through But the first trip darn near broke Ol' Conny's back. Then we learned things down below weren't goin' the way they's supposed to go And someone had to get history back on track. We traveled through a hole in space and wound up back in time And only we know how to set things right, for what it's worth. We shouldn't even be here, but seein' as we are We might as well do what we can to fix things down on Earth. The warp drive doesn't run on dreams so we split the crew up into teams To patch things up before the core was spent. One went to China to find supplies and they managed to do it, to no one's surprise But I wasn't there, so you'd have to ask them how it went. Now, Starfleet says "Don't interfere!" and that's easy to say when you're safe back here But in a situation like ours, well whadda ya do? Can't call for help, no ships to be found, all we could do was either beam folks down Or just orbit the moon for a century or two. Ol' Connys in some dire shape, her life is fadin' fast Her hull is gonna break up and her power's gonna drain. We shouldn't even be here, but seein' as we are Instead of whinin' that she's broke, let's make her run again! :: Jerry stopped his strumming and leaned in toward Prendar. :: Milsap: Now here’s where I come in. :: He winked and picked up the melody again. Milsap: I was nervous as a man can be when Danzia, Rajel, T'Mar and me Beamed down just as the war was set to begin. I never learned what was to blame but somethin' threw off the transporter's aim And we wound up pretty darn far from Berlin. We saw a horseman nearly die, he turned out to be this Princip guy Who played a major part in those events. We knew we had to fix his head and get him in a biobed So up into the ship's sickbay he went. The medics made sure he was stable and sedated him so he wasn't able To recall any details 'bout the place. And it must have worked 'cause last I looked there weren't no mention in the history book Of Princip bein' beamed up into space. Just when we thought we had it made the Kaiser showed up for a parade, We had to make it so he stayed away. We slipped a potion in his food and at the risk of sounding crude It kept him on the crapper all next day. We found a glitch in history that just might stop the Earth Becoming Federation in a couple hundred years. We shouldn't even be here, but seein' as we are We'll fix things up so no one even knows that we were here. :: Jerry thought about the rumors he'd heard on his way to the interview. He'd picked up on the words "Rajel" and "confined" and could pretty much guess the intelligence officers were giving Jalana a raw deal, likely with others not far behind. Now that he was near the end of the story, he scrounged up the indignation he'd been suppressing and channeled it into the song, adding a subtle edge to the final verses. :: Of course we never planned to go, we didn't have much say in it, though And we might wish someone else had fit the bill But let me ask you something brother, wish in one hand and crap in the other And you tell me which one's the first to fill! Goin' back in time? Y'all might forbid it, but the present's whole because we did it And I can't see anything that we did wrong. If Rajel and the crew'd just let things be, you wouldn't be sittin' across from me And I wouldn't be here to pick out this here song! But SFI is puttin' Constitution's crew on trial, Why don't we lay this nonsense inquisition down to rest? We shouldn't even be here, but seein' as we are Let's just agree that everything has worked out for the best. Instead of puttin' Jalana in jail, y'all should thank her for savin' your tail! It's 'cause of her that everything has worked out for the best! :: As the last strains of the banjo and singing faded in the empty, gray colored room. Prendar just stared at the man. Finally, he spoke. :: Prendar: Get out, Mister Milsap. Now. Milsap: ::smiling:: Don’t mind if I do. :: Jerry grabbed his banjo by the neck and sauntered to the door. He didn’t know if his performance actually helped anyone, but he was confident he’d at least done what he could to clear up the situation. :: ~tbc~ Joint Post By…. Commander Thomas Prendar Lead Investigator Starfleet Intelligence As Simmed by… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Colonel Nugra Marine Commanding Officer USS Doyle-A, NCC-980221-B Deputy Commandant Captain's Council Magistrate V238008N10 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ & Lieutenant JG Jerome Milsap Assistant Chief Medical Officer USS Constitution-B C239208JM01
  11. round 3 Lieutenant Theo Whittaker: The Eureka! Moment

    (( Bridge | USS Albion )) Tatash: Well, eliminating the obvious, there are no planet’s nearby within transporter range, and locking through an asteroid field would be challenging from the outside. There’s no bases in the field, nothing but mines and dangerous gasses that wouldn’t be conductive to operations. We’ve also got the fact that the Stormcrow was destroyed by a weapon that wasn’t our own, seemingly by an invisible force. So… ::he glanced at Theo and nodded:: Yeah, you can see where I’m going. ::Theo felt a pall of dread run through him. As a child he had heard stories of how James T. Kirk defeated a Klingon Bird-of-Prey that could fire through a cloaking device. Although that ship had been a prototype that was swiftly outlawed in the first amendment to the 1st Khitomer Accords, the idea that the technology was possible gave him nightmares for months as a child. Nightmares of invisible enemies stalking through Whittaker Manor and striking him down. It was only after his mother had taken him to see her chief medical officer, who was an expert in sleep disorders that the nightmares had ceased. They returned several years later, however, after he read reports of how Captain Jean-Luc Picard had defeated a similarly equipped Reman predator in the Bassen Rift. After another course of treatment, Theo decided that he wanted to join Starfleet to help battle anyone who possessed the technology. He had already become fascinated with machinery- and the upswing of applying for the academy at the age of 16 was that he could anger his father. But that was another story. He knew that when he fell asleep that night- the nightmare would return. But for now, those vivid, terrifying nightmares could wait. He had a job to do. Grateful that the academy had drilled the concept of ‘honour and duty’ into him harder than a Klingon initiate, he found the courage to put his fears to one side and look at Tatash :: Whittaker: A ship that can fire while cloaked. Tatash: It wouldn’t be the first time Starfleet’s seen a ship that fire while cloaked, let alone transport. Theoretically the latter should be easy if they haven’t got shields raised. The former worries me, it worries me a lot. Especially with the firepower they are packing. ::That, Theo decided, was putting it mildly. A cloaked Romulan vessel, capable of what it was capable of with murky intentions at best. If they had fired on one Starfleet vessel, what was to say they wouldn’t fire on another- especially one that was such an easy target as the crippled Albion presented. Theo felt the invisible figure getting ready to haunt his dreams.:: Whittaker: oO Not. Now! Oo Falcon: ::Sighs.:: Why don’t we ever get to use the cool toys? Tatash: I don’t doubt that if whatever is out there wanted us out of the picture we’d be a wreck by now. The Albion’s wounded and wouldn’t stand toe to toe against whatever is out there. Their attack on Stormcrow seems more of an assassination than a sortie, very quick and precise and at just the right moment to make us second guess ourselves. ::Theo stepped closer to Taybrim and dropped his voice into a whisper, as another frightening prospect occurred to him. He might not have been executive officer, but he was the second senior-most officer on the bridge and it was, apparently, his job to offer another opinion. This one, however, nobody but the CO should hear.:: Whittaker: Sir, we have Arrihman on board right now. What is to stop the Romulans from assassinating him by destroying us as well? Taybrim: Very little. ::he paused, brows forming a dark straight line:: Unless they actually cannot fire while cloaked - they may be hiding and waiting for the right opportunity when our back is turned. ::He paused, looking towards the engineer for answers:: Can we get any sort of tracking on them in that asteroid field? Tatash: That I don’t know. :: he motioned towards Nira :: Any ideas on how we can tag it? I’d strongly urge if we can act as passive as possible, if they get wind we can track them… well let’s keep our distance, but don’t look like we’re trying to keep our distance. Falcon: And how, pray tell, would you suggest accomplishing that? Tatash: I don’t know, fly casual? Falcon: Ah. ::Smiles.:: How appropriately vague. I think I can manage that. Whittaker: There may be another solution. ::He wished he had not spoken because the plan was only just beginning to form in his mind. Once again, every set of eyes on the bridge seemed to be directly staring at him with great expectations.:: Taybrim: What's your idea? Whittaker: We don’t necessarily have to be able to track her, :: he motioned to Nira :: Although if we can that would be an absolute advantage. :: beat, looking at Taybrim :: We just have to look like we. :: beat :: I may have only been in Starfleet for nine months as an officer, but I’ve grown to learn that Romulans are extremely cautious unless they have to be. The cloaking device is their greatest advantage because it allows them to silently analyse and strategize before taking definitive action. :: beat, he looked at Taybrim :: I say we call their bluff. That way we’ll avoid a confrontation with them and it’ll give the diplomatic team more time with whatever they need to do. Taybrim: I say that's pretty solid plan. ::He turned towards those on the bridge:: The question is how do we startle them without spooking them into another dogfight? Tatash: Anyone ever play battleships? ::he muttered, before turning to look at some of the others on the bridge giving him a curious look:: It's a game, you have a grid, each player takes a turn firing a shot into a grid not knowing where the enemy ships are, you aim towards the place most likely to have a concentration of ships in. It's guesswork, but you can at least feign a look of confidence if you're methodical. Vondaryan: ::[...]ing his head, smiling:: Sounds... tactical. I shall look forward to playing that back on the base. ::beat:: This Romulan ship, if it does exist, must be somewhere in this minefield, then. Falcon: Certainly not wrong. Given the make-up of this field, the mines floating around, there’s only so many places they could hide. Especially if they had the power to punch through Stormcrow’s shields and cripple them; you’d need a decent sized cruiser, at least. If we make some educated guesses, we could probably pull something like that off. Taybrim: Well, we did plan a whole bunch of countermeasures to deal with the Stormcrow - can we turn any of those into a way to flush Romulans from a bush. Asteroid field. You know. ::hand wave:: Falcon: Don’t worry about where the ship needs to be. You tell me a place, I can put her there. Impulse drive is still ready, and the thrusters are hot. TBC
  12. round 3 Lieutenant J.G. Shayne: Decompression.

    ((Shuttle Landing Site, Talaxian Base.)) Logan: Darwin shuttle closed, don't wait around Lieutenant. Thomas: Lieutenant, let's get out of here. ::Shayne was gratified to find the shuttle the way they'd left it. He had no desire to stay any longer than necessary. Indeed, given the...unstable nature of the structure they now planned to abandon with the definition of haste, Shayne couldn't wait to take off.:: oO And to get back in my uniform. This suit is killing me. Oo ::His instruments indicated a steady flow of power to the flight controls, and it was difficult to fight the urge to blast off at full speed. Training kicked in, however, and Shayne knew a slow ascent would be required to make certain the floor did not give way beneath them before they achieved a stable altitude. Shayne: Hang on, travelers. ::With a purr like that of a contented Sehlat, the Eddington lifted off from the wrecked base, on course for the Darwin.:: ((USS Triumphant, Deck 1- Bridge)) ::Shayne had been happy to note that whatever was left of the Numiri had limped away. But there had been enough blood spilt. Needlessly. Pointlessly. It was infuriating. He could hardly wrap his mind around what had transpired.:: ::Back at his station on the bridge, Shayne tried to distract himself with the many duties inherent to the helm position. There was much on his mind; the Talaxians, the Numiri, Raikenoff. His eyelids were made of lead, perpetually threatening to close, whether Shayne wanted them to or not. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, he did his utmost to hang on to operational readiness until he was dismissed. He didn't dare relax. Not yet. He'd need to soon, but that required solitude, something not commonly found on the bridge of a starship.:: Renos: =/\= Renos to Commander Thomas, destroy the base, then lay in the coordinates we’re sending through, we’re taking the survivors back to the nearest colony on the way home. =/\= Thomas: =/\= Understood Captain. Thomas out =/\= ::Shayne looked forward. The ruined base, pockmarked with scorches, hung in space.:: Thomas: Ensign Logan, fire cannons and destroy the base camp. Logan: Yes sir. Area targeted..... and firing. ::In one blow, the terrible destructive force available to the Triumphant smacked into the base. A bright light, and then nothing.:: Thomas: Lieutenant, punch in the coordinates from the Darwin and keep us in close. As they prepare to warp, follow their lead. Shayne: Aye. ::The oddly shaped Darwin leapt into warp, and Shayne followed suite. The mesmerizing streaks of starlight confirmed their superluminal velocity a moment later.:: Thomas: Lieutenant, you have the Bridge. Varaan: Aye, commander. ::The commander departed from the bridge, and the subtle sounds of an operating center massaged the helmsman's ears like a lullaby.:: oO Time to go. Oo Shayne: ::Turning to Varaan.:: Sir, permission to leave the bridge. Varaan: Granted, lieutenant. Shayne: Thank you, sir. ::Slowly standing, Shayne made sure to control his breathing as best he could before proceeding out of the bridge.:; ((Corridor, Deck 1, USS Triumphant.)) ::He knew this part would come. It always did. But that admission never made it any easier.:: ::Doing his utmost to walk at a steady pace, Shayne tried to calm himself. Already his breathing had become shallow and quick. Sweat poured from his temples. His stomach, a volatile subject at the best of times, was churning like he was in an endless free fall. A wave of dizziness assaulted him, causing him to collide aggressively with a bulkhead.:: oO Just let me get to my quarters. Please, just let me get there...Don't let anyone find me like this. Oo ((Officer's Quarters, Cabin G, Deck 1, USS Triumphant.)) ::At last, he found his way to Compartment G, his designated living space. The tiny size of the cabin did not bother Shayne. He was simply grateful that the bunk bed's top level did not seem to have another occupant. Staggering over to the replicator, he managed to gasp out a request.:: Shayne: Pure...mint...extract. ::The alcove obediently provided the requested substance. Shayne wasted no time in pouring half of the contents onto the perpetually burned back of his left hand. The potent liquid reacted with the ever-present wound, causing pain on a staggering scale. Shayne didn't care. He eagerly lapped up the extract with his tongue. It had an almost immediate effect. While his stomach was still complaining angrily, he no longer felt in danger of vomiting. A definite improvement. But the worst was yet to come.:: ::With enormous emphasis on gentleness, Shayne pulled his tunic and undershirt off, and stared at his left shoulder. The sight that greeted him was not pretty by any means.:: ::While they were escaping from the Talaxian base, a Numiri boarding team had shown up, guns blazing. Shayne had been so ridiculously pumped on adrenaline, he hadn't registered that he'd been shot. A glancing blow at most; certainly nothing life-threatening. The energy bolt had cauterized the injury, as well. Nevertheless, it had taken an ice cream scoop- size chunk of skin with it, and the crimson canyon of flesh hurt like hell.:: oO I need to see the doctor. Oo ::It was a tempting thought for a moment. The idea of being cared for with the best equipment available, under the watchful gaze of the professional staff down in Sickbay appealed. Then he imagined explaining the burn on his left hand, talking to the doctors about himself, revealing things that no one could know...no one...:: oO Intolerable. Oo ::Once again he approached the replicator, this time asking for a serious amount of first aid materials; dermal regenerator, tricorder, cleansing unit. After laying the armload of stuff onto his bunk, Shayne began to clean the wound. It stung and burned and ached, but nothing was so blindingly agonizing that he couldn't function. He vaguely remembered his old Earth history, how amputations during the Civil War were achieved with hacksaws, and the patients were given a hunk of wood to chomp down on in order to keep them from biting their own tongue off. Shayne gave silent thanks to the universe for delivering him from that kind of barbarism. It would have made his job considerably less pleasant.:: ::It took time, but he was finally satisfied with the cleaning job. Next, the dermal regenerator. Having trained as a doctor for a year at the Academy, he knew the general skills required to treat such an injury. Several minutes of flesh knitting later, and Shayne's shoulder was still quite tender, but not the open gash it had been before. Making sure to cover his tracks, he returned all the unused materials to the replicator and wiped the memory logs. And then he sat.:: ::And waited.:: ::It wasn't long before it hit him. It was reminiscent of his difficulties in the corridor, only a hundred times worse. Panic and fear exploded in his mind and heart, tearing through reason and control, shredding his mental discipline. Anxiety seeped into his mind, driving away rational sense. Against this onslaught, Shayne could do nothing but curl into a ball on his bunk and cry like a baby, begging for the overwhelming feelings to depart. Deep down, he knew they wouldn't. Not for some time. And even when they abated, they were never truly gone. But even a moment's respite would have been gratefully accepted.:: ::It was hours before he finally fell into a fitful sleep.:: TBC... Lieutenant J.G. Randal Shayne Helmsman USS Triumphant NCC- 75692 Escort Vessel for USS Darwin-A NCC- 99312 G239202RS0
  13. round 3 Lt. Varaan - Spooks

    ((Deep Space 6, Deck 73 - The Surak Arboretum, the day after the ball.)) ::This was not the first time Varaan had done this, but it had been a while.:: ::The Vulcan was dressed in civilian clothes, sitting reflectively in the Surak Arboretum on the station. He was sitting on a bench that was facing a topiary of what was supposed to be a large predatory Terran feline at the beginning of a pounce. Most likely it was supposed to represent a lioness or a tiger, but without the benefit of coloured hide on the green bush, it was difficult to tell. Vulcan didn't have any felines that large. It barely had felines at all.:: ::The topiary was bathed in a soft white light from overhead, casting a large shadow on the deck-plated path and sodded ground that surrounded it. It was both disturbing, when one thought of the violent nature of the act that the herbivorous feline was supposed to be performing at the conclusion of its jump, and peaceful, if one simply stared at the bush. It had an aesthetic quality about it that most species would probably find positive. Varaan was not one for aesthetics, unless it also improved performance or efficiency. The structure of the large felines was both aesthetically pleasing and a very efficient design. The topiary..."looked nice.":: ::Having spent the past 6 years in the Par'tha Expanse, flitting from world to world undercover on a Starfleet Intelligence mission, Varaan had seen a great many wild animals he had never seen before. Obviously. The Par'tha Expanse had been secluded away from the Federation behind the Jenatris Cloud until a dozen years ago. Millions of years of evolutionary processes on worlds very different from the ones he was familiar with...obviously creatures would develop differently. Some were near copies of species in the Federation, some looked like they could be distantly related. Many were unique. Aesthetically, some would be called beautiful, but most would have been termed "ugly." Varaan had only appreciated the evolutionary processes that allowed these species to survive and thrive in their respective environments.:: ::There were other topiaries in the arboretum. Many of them Terran animals, presumably since the majority of gardeners on the station were from Earth. There were some species representatives from other planets, and many topiaries of non-animals. Varaan hadn't ever been to this arboretum before, and had done a tour by himself to see the place, named after the Vulcan "father of logic." Varaan did not have enough data on Surak's personality to know if the stoic Vulcan would have approved of putting his name on this haven of nature surrounded by millions of tonnes of metal, and then...nothing. But that was the way of the living, to honor the dead by naming things after the deceased. The deceased could not approve nor disagree.:: ::This was certainly not his favourite topiary, but this is where he was.:: ::This was where he had been for the better part of the day. Sitting on the bench, pondering nature as he visually absorbed his surroundings. The Darwin was not scheduled to depart the station on their next mission yet. Many of the crew had accepted the captain's offer to teach them a form of J'naii martial arts. Many forms of martial arts doubled as fighting techniques and as a form of meditation. At least, the Terran ones did. And the Humans had many different forms. Vulcan had a couple of its own forms of martial arts. None of them would double as a form of meditation. All of them had been developed in the pre-Surak days, when Vulcans embraced their emotions, and violence ruled their history. Vulcan martial arts were designed to either kill or incapacitate your opponent in as little time as possible, with the minimum amount of energy expended. Very violent, yet very efficient. Ironically, there was a certain logic to that.:: ::So most of the crew was busy preparing for whatever was to await them. They had not been briefed yet on what that mission was, but there was speculation. There was always speculation. Varaan did not believe in speculating. If you speculated correctly, you may be more prepared than others, but if your speculation was incorrect, then you were further behind. Better not to take the chance. If you wanted to be more prepared, then one should simply ask. You would either be told, or not. Either way, you were no worse off than you were before. Varaan was as prepared as he could be. He had surveyed Engineering, met a couple of his new colleagues. There was a Laudean crewmember he hadn't met yet...another lieutenant. And the scuttlebutt was that the department would be receiving a new chief.:: ::No one knew who the new chief would be, whether it was an existing Darwinian, or a transfer. Not that it mattered to Varaan. His job was his job, no matter who was in charge. Interpersonal relations would be where the work efficiency would suffer, if the new chief did not "like" him. But Varaan virtually never had problems working with others. His old friend Torin Jamar used to use the phrase "plays well with others," though Varaan never would characterized what he did as "playing." Engineering was a serious job. Lack of attention to detail could result in injury or death, in certain circumstances. Varaan never played. Except for kal'toh.:: ::Until now he had been alone in the arboretum. Now a young humanoid female, probably human, with an infant in a hover-stroller, came strolling into view. She was wearing a floral print dress, and sensible shoes. The infant was wearing a pink onesie, and appeared to be mere months old. Humans equated pink with female, so the infant was most likely a girl. She was sleeping, a pacifier in her mouth. The dark haired woman was not in a hurry. Most people in an arboretum were not. The arboretum was a place where most people came to relax and enjoy the atmosphere, to relieve stress and forget their troubles. Not Varaan. The woman and infant continued to move through the area, but before they had left his vision another individual came into his view from another direction.:: ::This gentleman, who also appeared human, strolled into the area studying the topiary, and referring to a PADD in his hands. He kept looking up at the topiary, then back down at the PADD. He was wearing a brown jacket with dark pants, and black shoes. At one point he was close enough to Varaan for the Vulcan to see the text of a tour guide program running on the PADD. The man was on a tour of the arboretum. Varaan knew of these PADDs, available to rent at the entrance of the arboretum for only a couple of credits. Varaan had not bothered to get one when he came in. He was not interested in learning of the arboretum at this time. Perhaps if he came back at a later date. The man continued on his tour, soon leaving the area for the next topiary.:: ::Varaan reached up to his face and scratched an itch he had on his left temple. His internal clock was telling him that it was approaching dinner time. His stomach concurred. He had skipped lunch today. He had received a communication from an old friend, and had been busy doing him a favour. It had taken most of the afternoon, and Varaan was almost done. Dinner would be most welcome. Chief Marquette had mentioned a restaurant on the station here that he highly regarded. Varaan was willing to try it out. Varaan, as a Vulcan, was a strict vegetarian, and many entrees at restaurants included some form of meat. Having salads all the time was very...repetitive. Finding a restaurant that served new and interesting vegetarian cuisine was a welcome distraction.:: ::The man with the PADD returned to the area and stood in front of the topiary for another moment, studying it. Then he turned and moved to the empty spot on the bench beside Varaan. Neither man looked at the other, and neither said anything. The man put the PADD down on the bench between them, and bent over to tie his shoe. Varaan looked down at the PADD, and read the single word on the screen. "Hyperion.":: ::Varaan stood up and strolled out of the arboretum on his way to the restaurant. He did not look back. He did not need to, knowing that once he was out of sight, the man with the PADD would finish tying his shoe. When he sat up he would bring with him the metal case that Varaan had left under the bench, and would spend another couple of minutes wandering the arboretum before leaving by another exit.:: ::And that was how a covert ops drop was done.:: --------------------------- Lt. Varaan Engineering Officer USS Darwin-A, NCC-99312-A Serial: V237810V10
  14. round 3 LtCmd. Traenor, "Barque"

    ((Personal Quarters, Deck 6 - USS Darwin-A)) ::After a long day in the office dealing with personnel files and liaising with departmental heads, Maxwell Traenor was beat. He was used to office work, a career of lab work had prepared him for that, but the bureaucratic finagling was still foreign to him and taxed his acuity. All he wanted to do now was sit at the piano for half an hour to limber his fingers and arms, then flop on the couch with a snifter of brandy and read the latest FNS feeds. A bit of smooth jazz wafting through his quarters would be a nice relaxing addition as well. Then, after a light meal, he'd hit the bunk early.:: ::When he opened the door to his quarters, Maxwell paused for a moment. Though he liked his room fairly dark, at half illumination, it was darker still than that. Puzzled, he walked in and threw the ever-present PADDs in his hand onto the closed piano lid.:: Traenor: Computer, raise lights to half illumination. Eden Taylor: Surprise!! ::A shape sprung out of the darkness, and Maxwell nearly fell flat on his rear, saved ignominiously by clutching at the edge of the piano. He might or might not have screeched in shock, but either way his response to the visitor in his room was not graceful or dignified.:: Traenor: Eden! Darn it, you scared me! What are you doing here?! ::The teenager had fallen on the couch herself, holding her sides and laughing at the reaction she had managed to elicit. Maxwell had half a mind to chuck a PADD at her, but in all honestly he was overjoyed to see her. It had been over a year since he had last been to Earth and seen her in the flesh, and she had grown into a proper woman. At 17, she was pretty much all grown. It was a poignant reminder of the rapid passage of time, as he could remember holding her swaddled form in his arms on the day she was born as if it was just yesterday.:: Taylor: I came here to see you, Mr Starfleet-I'm-Too-Busy-To-Come-And-Visit-My-Niece-Anymore! Traenor: ::drolly:: Somehow I don't see that moniker fitting on my office door plaque. Taylor: Seriously, though, Uncle Gordie. It's been like forever! I was tired of seeing you only via vidchat once every couple months. I had a mid-term break, and I decided to come out here to see you! ::Maxwell marveled; she must have caught some fast transports in order to get out to the Zeta Gelis region and still plan to get back to Earth in time for the spring term. Not that he minded, in fact he was overjoyed, but he wondered how she had managed to convince her mother to let her travel alone to the far reaches of Federation presence. His sister Kirsten was overbearing when it came to family, and it must have taken a LOT of negotiations between the two to allow this trip to happen.:: Traenor: You should have told me! I could have prepared for your arrival, made plans... Taylor: What, and miss that look on your face when I jumped out at you? Nuh-uh. ::wicked grin:: Wouldn't have missed that for the world. ::He tried to shoot his niece a dour frown, but the muscles in his face refused to comply. He was simply too happy to have her here to even pretend to be anything but overjoyed. She jumped up off the couch, and he swept her up in a crushing bear hug.:: Traenor: It's great to see you, kiddo. Whatever the circumstances, I'm glad to have you here. ::Maxwell let her go, and was going to go get them some refreshments from the replicator when he heard a strange muffled sound. He paused for a moment, head tilted, trying to suss out the location and cause of the sound. Eden, seeing him stopped, moved forward with a bit of a blush on her cheeks. She stepped between him and the door to the washroom.:: Traenor: Did you hear something? Taylor: Yes, umm... well, your birthday is coming up within the next several weeks, and I didn't think I'd get the chance to see you before then again, so I kinda got you a gift... ::Maxwell was able to eke out a slight frown this time. Eden was acting strangely, almost as if with a guilty conscience, and her cheeks were continuing to redden. He heard the odd sound yet again, and between his niece's actions and triangulation, he was able to determine that it was coming from the washroom. Confused and consternated, he affixed Eden with an accusatory glare.:: Traenor: What do you mean, a gift? ::The teenager turned and went towards the washroom door. As it swooshed open upon her approach, a small four-legged apparition with floppy ears and a long snout, big dark eyes, and a lolling tongue hanging comically from its mouth. It stopped and gave a squeaking yap.:: Traenor: That - is that - is it what I think it is? Taylor: Uncle Gordie, meet Barque. Barque, meet Uncle Gordie. He's a beagle puppy! ::The furry creature bounded up to Maxwell and jumped up against his leg. It looked up at him with a lopsided grin, and yapped again.:: Traenor: "Bark"? Awfully onomatopoeic for a name. Taylor: Not "bark", as in "woof, woof", silly. "Barque", as in the boat! Huh? Huh? Get it? ::Maxwell groaned in mock distaste at the terrible pun, but in actuality he thought it was quite hilarious and clever. The wide grin of humorous anticipation on Eden's face betrayed that she thought it was a pun so terrible as to be hilarious, as well. The two of them shared the same twisted sense of humor, after all. Charles Darwin, the namesake of the vessel Maxwell called home, made a journey of evolutionary discovery on a sailing barque named "HMS Beagle". A barque named "Beagle", a beagle named "Barque"... Yup. That was definitely shared humor.:: Traenor: Whatever gave you the idea to choose that name, I wonder? Taylor: Easy. I suggested it to Mom, and she thought it was stupid. ::evil grin:: That's when I knew it was perfect! ::Maxwell knew he shouldn't laugh at such a disparaging comment about his sister, but it was so true that he couldn't help himself. The laugh was short-lived, though. There was the elephant in the room to deal with, or more accurately, the Canis familiaris in the room. Maxwell was diametrically opposed to the idea of "pet ownership", considering it barbaric to wield dominance and control over another creature. Yet, here stood Eden, telling him that she had just gave him a dog. He was not pleased.:: Traenor: Eden, you know how I feel about pets. Whatever possessed you to think I would accept a dog? ::She affixed him with a scolding, imperious stare, hands on her hips. Eden might have gotten her humor from her Uncle Gordie, but this gesture was all Kirsten. In fact, in this pose Maxwell could see the striking resemblance between his sister Kirsten and Eden. The more Eden grew, the more she adopted her mother's natural beauty and easy grace. As long as the younger Taylor woman kept her easygoing smile and didn't allow it to morph into the dour frown that seemed to dominate Kirsten's face constantly, then the similarity was not a bad thing.:: Taylor: You only hold that stance because you've never taken more than an analytical thought process to the issue. Use your withered, cold heart to look at that little bundle of joy and tell me that you couldn't love him! Traenor: It has nothing to do with love. It has everything to do with denying a lesser creature its natural instincts, caging and restraining it, forcing subservience onto a living, breathing animal. Taylor: Yes, but Terran dogs are naturally inclined to a subservient relationship with people. Their evolutionary traits have formed synonymous with those of humans. They have an inherent need for companionship and a pack hierarchy, where they look to a dominant figure for guidance, subsistence, and affection. Being a dog owner doesn't pervert their needs, it enhances and fulfills them. It's genetics and evolution, Uncle Gordie, plain and simple. ::Darn, but if she didn't come prepared. She was using science against a scientist, his greatest weakness! Maxwell needed to change tack to try and get himself out of this predicament.:: Traenor: A starship is no place for a pet. It's improper to have a dog in such a confined space. Taylor: On the contrary, Uncle Gordie. Starfleet regulations have no qualms with officers having small pets in their possession while on active duty. As a senior officer, you actually have the luxury of large quarters that make space even less of an issue. The Darwin has a large arboretum for natural space, and the holodecks can create more space to devise any number of engaging environments for training and exercising a dog. Oh! By the way, congratulations on making First Officer! The Security officer that escorted me to your quarters and let me in told me all about it! Never thought you'd be anything but an egghead scientist, if I'm being honest. ::Maxwell sighed, realizing that he had neglected to contact his family yet and tell them the good news. Their return from the Delta Quadrant had heralded a heavy workload, and his own personal commiserations had distracted him from thinking of making the social call.:: Traenor: Thank you, but quit trying to change the subject. What about his health? There's not exactly a veterinary doctor aboard. Taylor: ::looking askance at him:: You trying to tell me that a science ship with a full contingent of xenobiologists and a medical staff trained to deal with hundreds of alien physiologies can't give a little puppy a regular checkup? Besides, ::slyly producing an isolinear chip:: many ships without the Darwin's prolific benefits make do with caring for crewmember's pets. Here is a veterinary subroutine for the holodeck, a program which fully simulates an animal hospital replete with trained and friendly doctors and nurses. Barque will not want for the best care possible. Plus, I've already programmed in the recipes for a dozen nutritional supplements for Barque into your replicator, varying based on the nutritional demands as he grows, several healthy treats for training and spoiling him, and the replimat catalogue has plenty of chew toys. Traenor: ::at a loss:: This all may be true, but having a pet still requires permission from a commanding officer. There's no guarantee that my captain will allow me to keep a pet! Taylor: ::broad grin:: I've already sent a message to Captain Renos on your behalf. Ne has the request. I was very sweet and convincing in it. I expounded on the benefits to your morale and health due to the regular exercise you'll get from walking him. By the way, you have a J'naii captain? That's so cool! I didn't know there were many J'naii in Starfleet! Traenor: ::distracted, exasperated:: There isn't. It's complicated. Never mind that! The most important thing is, you never considered whether I actually want to keep, care for, and train a dog. What if I say no? Are you prepared to take the dog back and keep him yourself? Taylor: You wouldn't. You couldn't. How can you say no to such a cute little face? ::Maxwell looked down at the puppy at his feet, and when the beagle caught him staring at it, it started wiggling it's tail enthusiastically. It let out another little yap.:: Taylor: C'monnnn, Uncle Gordie! You know you wannnt to keep him! You know you wannnt to love him! You're so lonely out here at the fringes of the Federation, and Barque will be the perfect companion. Please? ::Eden clasped her hands in a prayer fashion and skewered Maxwell with puppy dog eyes, affecting a begging whimpering to try and convince him. Barque, skewering him with real puppy dog eyes, affected a sympathetic whimpering in response. Though he tried to look annoyed, Maxwell actually found the both of them to be endearing.:: Traenor: Tsk tsk, Eden. You're not eight anymore. That won't work on me. oO Except that it kinda is... Oo ::Eden tittered in response, and called Barque over to the couch. The puppy, ungainly on his oversized paws, scampered over and jumped up. She proceeded to scratch him behind the ears, which caused the poor thing's eyes to roll back into his head with ecstatic pleasure.:: Traenor: Y'know, with the level of intellect and dedication you've applied to this debate, have you ever considered becoming a scientist? Or a diplomat? Taylor: No way! I'm going to be a pilot. You know that. I've already started flying lessons, in preparation of acing the Starfleet entrance exams next summer. ::Thinking of Eden entering Starfleet was bittersweet for several reasons. First, the fact that she was but a half year away from being eligible to enroll was mind-boggling. Second, a career in Starfleet wasn't without risk, and could be an isolating choice of callings, which was not a palatable thought to an overprotective uncle. However, with both himself and Eden's father being Starfleet officers, it was in no way surprising that Eden would be drawn to the service. Why as a pilot he had no idea, but it was something she had obsessed about for most of her life. Traenor knew she could be most anything, an engineer like her father or a scientist like himself, or even a negotiator, he thought ironically. But, if she wanted to join Starfleet and aspire to be a helmsman, then Maxwell would be honored to sponsor her wish. He moved over to the couch and sat down on the opposite side of the puppy from Eden, and started stroking his back.:: Traenor: Oh, his fur is so soft! Taylor: ::with a knowing smile:: I knew you'd fall in love with him! ::He mock scowled at her, before looking down at the puppy. He was kind of cute. His fur was very soft, softer than he expected. He was so warm, and looked cuddly. His eyes were closed now, possibly napping, as they both continued to pet him. Though it was for all the wrong reasons, Maxwell could appreciate the sentiment behind getting him a puppy. It went against all he had believed in, that owning pets was wrong and borderline evil, but if she was right and it was a mutually beneficial relationship? Would it really be so bad to own a beagle named Barque? He snorted in laughter.:: Traenor: A beagle named Barque. You really are a dork. Taylor: ::quick retort:: Takes one to know one. ::The two laughed, a deep belly laugh that resonated throughout the quarters and roused the puppy from his slumber just long enough to give them a baleful look before slumping back to sleep. This made them laugh anew, and the two settled into a comfortable and animated recollection of their lives during the months they had been absent from each other. All desires for quiet relaxation dissipated as Maxwell cherished the chance to catch up with his beloved niece.:: TBC LtCmdr Maxwell Traenor - First Officer, USS Darwin NCC-99312-A Graphic Contest Taskforce =/\= Characters Guild Co-Facilitator A239111MT0
  15. ((School rooms, USS Invicta)) ::Alora hovered outside the door to Saavok’s classroom. There was no window for her to peek in at the students and their dark, petite teacher. She was early, that she had to admit, so her impatience was unwarranted - as was her nervousness. Or was it? Despite a lack of obvious telepathy, Alora was usually fairly adept at reading people. Vulcans, however, were among those who were not so easily understood as they held their emotions easily in check. Saveron somehow seemed a little more available, even before they had officially begun their romantic relationship. Perhaps it had been because of that fleeting mental contact they had shared during their exploration of virtual Vulcan. She had an enjoyed a similar contact with Saavok, but even so, she couldn’t predict the child’s reaction. He had yet to say anything, but that didn’t mean the child did not harbour emotions about recent developments. Her thoughts were interrupted as the doors slid open with a sigh and children spilled from within. As the flurry of bodies rushed out, Alora straightened and waited for one in particular.:: Alora: Sochya, Saavok. ::Her greeting was accompanied by the ta’aland she continued conversing in Vulcan, her translator already disabled.:: ::Saavok looked up as Alora greeted him, and automatically responded with the same gesture. He was becoming accustomed to her as a presence in his life.:: Saavok: Sochya, Alora. Alora: Mind if we talk? Saavok: I have no objection. ::Alora motioned down the hallway with a flick of her hand, then spurred her feet into motion.:: ::The young Vulcan obediently followed, falling into step with the Terran scientist.:: Saavok: What subject did you wish to discuss? Alora: If it’s all right, I’d rather do it in private. Wherever you are comfortable. ::Her quarters, his, it didn’t matter to her.:: ::That earned her a raised eyebrow for a moment, then Saavok seemed to consider the question more seriously.::Saavok: My father will not be home for another hour. May I come to your quarters? Your plants are interesting. Alora: Sure, that’s fine, though many are still recovering. ::At least a couple of the African Violets had started blooming again. Alora walked alongside the child, keeping pace with him. Rather than wallow in silence as they walked, she at least continued pleasant conversation.:: Alora: Did you have a good class? Saavok: It was not disagreeable. ::He allowed. He wouldn’t say that he found it particularly fascinating either.:: Alora: What did you guys learn today? Saavok: The class studied basic mathematics; I had matrices from my distance classes. Then we investigated some early Terran literature. ::Which was interesting because it was different.:: Tasnim learned not to delve into other people’s thoughts without asking. Alora: Wait..Tasnim learned how to delve into other people’s thoughts? I didn’t realise she was telepathic. Did the teacher teach her that? Saavok: Tasnim is half Betazoid. My mother taught me basic mental self defence; I will learn more when I am older. Alora: Oh! ::Alora knew Vulcans were touch telepaths, but she hadn’t thought about how early mental training must start, though it made sense. They came to a stop when they arrived at her quarters and the computer bleeped, but the doors didn’t open. Since the doors had been replaced, Alora no longer had to pound them just to get them to open. In a way, it seemed to take away some of their personality. Ah well.:: DeVeau: Come on in. ::She actually waited for the child to enter before she did so herself, and the doors hushed closed behind her. It was cool compared to the quarters the child was used to sharing with his father, but warmer than most Terrans might like. As a child of the South, she did tend to prefer warmer weather, even though it got awfully cold in Japan sometimes. Also, it was better for most of her plants.:: DeVeau: Have a seat. ::Alora lowered herself onto the couch and patted the space beside her.:: ::Saavok obediently settled himself onto the couch, his PADD in it’s case on the floor below his dangling feet. He looked at Alora expectantly; judging from her behaviour that this was a serious matter.::Saavok: What is it that you wished to discuss? DeVeau: Okay...so...how do I ask this. Um...so, you know your father and I, we’re courting right? Saavok: Affirmative. ::The little Vulcan’s blank expression was entirely unhelpful.:: DeVeau: Well, what I want to know is… ::No no she had to ask in a Vulcan way. Child or no, communication might be aided if she used terms they tended to use. DeVeau: Are you agreeable with this arrangement?Saavok: I find the arrangement agreeable. ::He used the same convoluted grammar that his father did. He also had the same grey eyes, which were watching Alora carefully.:: Saavok: You considered that I might object? ::He asked after a moment.:: DeVeau: I considered it as a possibility. I’m not telepathic - well...not in the usual sense of the word - and while I care about you bunches, I don’t know your thoughts about me. ::She leaned over to cross her arms over her knees.:: But you’re his son and I want you to be okay with this. You’re too important not to be considered in the equation. ::His not being okay with it wouldn’t really change anything between her and Saveron, but she had hoped the child would be amenable to the idea.:: ::The little Vulcan gave the matter serious consideration.:: Saavok: I find your presence and company agreeable. ::He said eventually.:: You are an interesting person and… you seem to find us equally interesting. ::Not everyone found Vulcan idiosyncrasies particularly tolerable.:: Saavok: My father finds your company agreeable. ::He added thoughtfully.:: He has been… more centered, since you became ko-ri’telsu. ::The word meant an unbonded female partner.:: DeVeau: Wow...I don’t think I’ve heard that term in forever. Saavok: It is not in common usage. ::He admitted. Such arrangements were relatively rare in Vulcan culture.:: The Nel Gathic term is ‘t’aehtlu fheigh’. Will you Bond with father? DeVeau: ‘T’aehtlu fheigh’? Bond...well, I don’t know. It’s a bit early for that, don’t you think? ::Not that Alora opposed the idea, but she also didn’t want to move too fast.:: Saavok: It means ‘desired one’. It is the equivalent Nel Gathic term. I do not know, I am unfamiliar with Terran courting rituals. Since Surak, Vulcans have traditionally been preliminarily bonded as children, to become bonded mates as adults. The practice is becoming less prevalent however. DeVeau: Are you bonded? Saavok: I am not bonded. Neither were my siblings. My parents were and they… were not fully compatible. ::Which perhaps explained why their children weren’t.:: DeVeau: I see. ::Alora leaned back into the embrace of the couch and pondered the question a little further before she expanded on her previous answer.:: DeVeau: At this point, I would like to, but not necessarily right now. It’s something I can see for the future. Maybe sooner, maybe later. I think...I think we’ve both been hurt and we need to make sure we’re both sure before we take a step like that. Does that make sense? ::The little Vulcan gave this some thought.:: Saavok: Affirmative. ::He decided.:: It is preferable to determine that one’s relationship is agreeable to both and will remain so. ::The boy was acutely aware of the effects of the breakdown of their relationship on both his parents.:: ::Alora was pretty darn sure it would remain so for her, but there was no sense in rushing things. Saveron also needed to be certain - and she would not lock him into something where he had doubts.:: DeVeau: You’re right. It’s better in the long run that way. Well, I’m glad you’re okay with it. You’re his son, I didn’t think it would be right to leave you out of things. Saavok: I appreciate your consideration. ::He said gravely.:: You… said that you had also been hurt. ::He observed after a moment.:: ::He had wondered how Alora viewed his own presence but she had just told him. Admittedly in a very alien way, but never-the-less making it clear that she found his own presence agreeable.:: ::How much should she tell him? While Saavok was a child, he was a Vulcan child and more mature than most children his age would be. However, that didn’t mean he had to be privy to the details of what had happened. For a moment, she pondered what to say and finally simply stated,:: DeVeau: There was...a boy before. Our relationship did not end well. I think that’s probably all I should say about it for now. ::Even if he had been an adult, she still wasn’t comfortable divulging too much information.:: ::Saavok considered this for a moment, then nodded. He was not familiar with how Terrans conducted their interpersonal relationships, but he understood that a relationship could end badly. His parents were a prime and personal example. Clearly such was not something restricted to his own species.:: ::But how did Terrans do such things?:: Saavok: What are the Terran conventions? Will you ask S’Rel and Teron also? DeVeau: Has your father said anything to them? Saavok: I do not believe that father has spoken with them yet on the subject. Perhaps, like yourself, he wishes to see how the relationship will progress. ::Alora nodded slowly. It was so easy to fall into the idea of plunging forward and it felt good to be with Saveron. Obviously he cared for her as much as she did for him. However, diving headfirst haphazardly into something so serious could lead to a detrimental outcome, and that was the last thing Alora wanted.:: DeVeau: I’ll admit, I didn’t think to ask them. Mainly because they are grown, they have their own families, and thus are no longer a part of their father’s household. That is not the case for you and so our relationship has a direct impact on you. Saavok: That is true. It has not been a detrimental impact. ::Far from it, from the little Vulcan’s point of view. Having spent the first six years of his life with his mother, he had still felt an immediate connection with the man who was his father, a man to whom he was so very similar. Born after the breakdown of their relationship, he had never known his parents when they were together, but he had seen his mother’s contentment with Serok. He wanted something similar for his father.:: ::Alora was intriguing in herself. Saavok’s exposure to aliens had only begun three years ago, and he didn’t get to know many adult aliens closely. She was one of the exceptions and an insight into Terran nature and culture. He was aware that there were marked differences in both psychology and physiology. Some of them his father had tried to explain.:: Saavok: Alora, how old are you? ::He asked suddenly.:: DeVeau: Twenty five. ::Alora had no qualms about sharing her real age, unlike some women. Still, the question was not one she had expected from the child.:: DeVeau: Why do you ask? Saavok: I am aware that many other species mature at a faster rate than Vulcans; it is still an unusual concept. You are younger than my siblings. ::And from a Vulcan point of view, almost too young to mate.:: DeVeau: How old are your siblings? Saavok: Teron is thirty Terran years, S’Rel is twenty-eight. Naarin would have been twenty-three. I am eight. DeVeau: And your father is…. Saavok: Father is sixty-six. DeVeau: Ah that’s right. ::It was quite the age difference and for some it might have been a concern. Not so for Alora. A smile tickled her lips.:: DeVeau: Well, I always did have a thing for older men. ::That earned her a blank look of the same type that the boy’s father gave her when he was trying to work through something that she’d said that didn’t quite make sense to him.:: Saavok: What is, ‘a thing’? ::He asked eventually.:: ::She couldn’t help but giggle although Alora did her best to stifle it as much as possible.:: DeVeau: I’ve always found older men to be more attractive. ::Although the one guy she’d been with prior had been far closer to her age, but Alora wasn’t going to return to that topic.:: ::Saavok’s first impulse was to ask what the logic was behind that statement, but if there was something that he was learning about aliens it was that, when it came to personal preferences, there often wasn’t any. Misha hadn’t been able to provide him with a logical reason for his preference for sugary foods, but was quite adamant about it. He’d also become cross with Saavok when the young Vulcan persisted in asking. So although the child opened his mouth to frame the question he quickly shut it again. So be it.:: ::Instead he considered the whole situation thoughtfully.:: Saavok: So what happens now? ::It was hardly the most logical or well structured question; at the end of the day he was still just a child and, although he liked Alora, he was aware that such things fell well outside many conventions.:: DeVeau: What happens now is we keep spending time together with the purpose of finding out whether or not we want to spend the rest of our lives together. ::Honestly, she had a hard time imagining a future without Saveron, but there she was trying to rush things again. Time would tell, and there wasn’t a hurry. She was young and while Saveron wasn’t exactly a teenager, he wasn’t old for a Vulcan either.:: DeVeau: Sound okay to you? ::The little Vulcan considered this statement.:: Saavok: I have no objection. ---------------- PNPC SaavokVulcan ChildUSS InvictaR238802S10 & Lt. Alora DeVeauScience OfficerUSS InvictaM239008AD0
  16. round 3 MSNPC Doctor Aralo Onil - "Everything"

    ((Deck 42, Corridor Near Cargo Bay 18, USS Constitution-) ::Onil stood, watching the swirling mass of energy in the Cargo Bay grow before his eyes. The researcher in him was fascinated, transfixed by the power and beauty, as well as the scientific prowess that been able to physically mark an unidentified foe. He felt the corners of his mouth tick up in a slight smile.:: ::However, the smile hid his fear. His fear of the unknown. His fear of dying. His smile disappeared entirely when he heard the Andorian science officer saying his name.:: ::Pulled from his terrifyingly close enchantment, the Ktarian listened to what the young officer had to say.:: Udas: =/\= Doctor Aralo, this is Lieutenant Udas. We need you to manually override the cargo bay controls and jettison the contents. =/\= ::Onil frowned for a moment, letting out a deep huff.:: Onil: =/\= Understood Lieutenant. Stand by. =/\= ::The Ktarian moved over towards wall panel and touched a few keys. Nothing happened. He tabbed through another screen and then another, attempting to manually override the controls of the door way again and again. The same error message scrolled across the screen every time.:: ::He slammed his fist angrily against the wall.:: ::Taking a deep breath, he looked around the corridor, for anything or anyone to assist. He was, as he had been for many months, alone. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. :: oO You have to do this, Aralo. You have to make amends. Oo ::He dropped to one knee and pulled off a wall panel underneath the controls. It was fairly standard for a three manual lever to be underneath the control panel as a fall back in case the doors wouldn't respond. He paused for a moment, suddenly realizing what was about to happen.:: ::In heavy breathes, he spoke into the comm system.:: Onil: =/\= Commander Faranster, Morely. The manual ::his breathing was labored:: manual override seems to have...failed. No other way to jettison...to jettison...the contents of the cargo bay except from...inside. ::there was a long pause:: I'm so sorry for everything. I...really really am. Morely, tell...my daughters.. Well, you know.... =/\= ::Feeling his fingers wrap around the cold, metal level, Aralo pulled with all his strength. Looking towards the doorway, he was relieved to see about a meter opening in the Cargo Bay doors. Just enough for him to squeeze in.:: ::Rising to his feet before he could think about it any longer, the pudgy man squeezed himself into the cargo bay and the energy fields.:: ((Deck 42, Cargo Bay 18, USS Constitution-) ::The feeling couldn't be described as painful. The energy immediately washed over him like a cool bath, immersing him, covering him. A million different thoughts and feelings, the feelings of people he'd never known, the feelings of those aboard the ship poured into him and through him. The energy was reacting to his presence.:: ::Blindly feeling his way along the wall, he found a control panel. Kneeling again, he removed the wall panel and reached into to find the lever. Finding it easily, he pulled it, watching the meter or so gap in the doors close behind him. He was sealed in.:: ::Moving through the energy, he felt overwhelmed. Everyone he had ever known, his daughters, both his ex-wives, his grandmother, and teachers from his days at university, random strangers, Commander Faranster and Morely, all of them were inside of his mind. All of them were watching him, silently.:: ::Stumbling, the energy becoming almost too much to bear, he found the opposite wall of the Cargo Bay and the manual jettison controls. Raising his fist above his head, he crashed his hand down, breaking the glass covering.:: ::A red button, marked ""ONLY USE IN EMERGENCIES" stared back at him.:: oO This is it, Aralo. No turning back. Oo ::A voice broke through the energy, a voice he had heard a thousand times.:: Voice: Papa, it's time. Come home. ::Onil smiled, tears being pulled from his eyes:: Onil: I'm coming, honey. ::With that, Aralo slammed his fist into the red button.:: ::He felt, only for an instant, the gravity of the Cargo Bay being pulled out from around him as the contents of the Cargo Bay were pulled into space. He too was floating, a suddenly weightlessness about him. He was spinning, spinning, spinning. His vision slowly fading to black. His eyes couldn't focus much, so he closed them. Everything went white, he lost all feeling. There was nothing any longer to Doctor Aralo Onil. Nothing except the voice of his daughter calling his name as he tumbled further and further away from the Constitution and closer and closer to home.:: TBC..... MSNPC Doctor Aralo OnilResearch, Sotra Orbital Research Station Simmed by Lieutenant Udas
  17. ((OOC by submitter: The main figures in this post are J'naii and the writers use gender neutral pronouns. For an overview and explanation of those used you can check Renos' Biography: http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php/Renos)) ((Chief Medical Officer’s Office)) ::The screen flickered onto a dark scene, with only the haunted face of an individual staring forlornly into the camera. Long shadows accentuated the obvious anguish on nir features, and ne took sharp, ragged breaths as if ne had just been chased. After a drawn out pause, where the individual appeared to steel nir nerves, ne started talking:: Nila: I don't know what else to do. I don't know where else to go. I don't even know if this plea will get me safety and relief, or if it will ensure my swift and decisive trip to the psychotectic chambers. And at this point, I'm not even sure it matters either way!:: ::Nir voice hitched in a sob, and it took several seconds for nem to regain composure. Finally, in a wavering tremolo, nir voice continued.:: Nila: It all came to a head yesterday. I was crossing the square's atrium on my way home from work, minding my own business, when somebody jostled me in the crowd. It was hard enough that I dropped my satchel, and a tube of lipstick rolled out and across the cobbles. ::Ne stopped, a pained, faraway look crossing nir face. It was obvious ne was reliving and replaying the event in nir mind.:: Nila: It rolled to a stop against a foot. Of course, it had to be a magistrate's foot! Just my luck! It was as if time had crawled to a stop. Ne stooped, ever so slowly, and gingerly grasped the tube between the tips of nir thumb and forefinger. Ne had held it distastefully as far away from nemself, and let nir incredulous, imperious gaze fall upon me. "Does this belong... to you?!":: ::The small J'naii screwed up nir face in pain, as a tear trickled down nir cheek. Nila shook nir head, as if by doing so ne could shake the acute images from nir memory.:: Nila: ::voice squeaking:: What could I do?? Of course I yelled out, "What are you talking about? I've never seen that before in my life!". I gathered my satchel and ran, ducking and weaving through the crowd. I could hear nem yelling, telling me to stop, but I got away... That one item of makeup cost me half a month's salary on the black market. ::bitter laugh:: Can you believe that even matters to me? I'm only a low-level clerk, so I don't have many credits to spare. My life, my identity is in danger, and still that pops into my mind unbidden. How many credits in contraband makeup did I flush down the reclamator when I got home? Does it even matter?! I don't know!! ::Heaving, gasping breaths as nir manic eyes bore ceaselessly, unseeing, into the camera. It took nearly half a minute this time for nem to start again.:: Nila: I'm told that there are those who can help. That you can help. If this even makes it to somebody useful. I took a huge leap of faith coming here today, all because someone told somebody, who told someone else, who told me that I can get out a message this way. If this is true, then please, I need your help. They all look at me like they know! My coworkers, my neighbors, even the people I pass on the street! They all know! And it's only ::shudder:: a matter of time... they're coming to get me... ::Ne looked rapidly from side to side, seemingly reacting to nothing.:: Nila: Did you hear that!? Is someone there?? ::back to the camera:: I don't know when I can attempt contact again. I'm so scared... This room is within two kilometers of the civic chamber, for goodness' sake! It was foolish for me to come here... ::The recording stopped, the screen going blank.:: :: Renos had squirmed uncomfortably the whole way through watching it and felt really quite distraught because it touched raw nerves or nir own. The fingers of nir right hand hand eneded up getting chewed at the other hand scratched at nir scalp and tagged at nir hair nervously. :: Renos: oO ::Despairingly:: How many more people have to suffer like this? Oo :: Ne had to put down the PADD and step away from it. Maybe the issue seemed magnified to nem because of nir personal experiences and involvement with a particular secretive group but this seemed to be frighteningly common. It was a video ne could just as easily name nemself back when ne was on J’naii because everything in it rang true. :: :: The way ne felt, the cost of expression and the danger it held, the fear of being caught. Ne knew exactly how this poor J’naii trapped on home world felt because ne had felt it before and ne felt it now in watching this and remembering what it was like. Ne felt fairly distressed about it all. :: :: Ne snatched up the red PADD and left the office wearing a stiff expression. Ne stomped down the corridor on autopilot and only when ne approached the turbo lift did ne realise ne needed to select a destination. :: :: Renos knew full well that in the silence and emptiness of nir quarters ne was likely to become increasingly upset as ne thought more and more about the poor anonymous J’naii. Ne knew ne needed to find a way to help. The chief medical officer was acutely aware that ne was only able to live this great life now because ne had received assistance some years ago. First ne was going to need to figure out who had sent this. :: :: For a split second the well-developed sense of paranoia, honed through years or living in fear resurfaced and ne considered that this might be a trap! Ne was a wanted criminal. Wanted for being, in the words of the government – unwell, mentally deficient, unevolved… deviant. Ne had seemed so genuine though…. :: Renos: oO That’s what they want, to sucker you in. Oo :: Ne selected the deck for the Mess Hall hoping that even if ne wasn’t up to eating the bustle would provide a distraction. This kind of message was always hard to take and ne knew that ne needed to calm down and think reasonably or ne would be no help to anyone. Ne was not prone to over emotional reactions on a normal day and ne hated to feel like this all over again. :: Renos: oO Don’t kid yourself that after all these years they still care to look. If I am lucky I am dead to them. Oo ((Mess Hall)) :: Renos realised ne had arrived in the Mess Hall firstly because of the increase in noise and then because ne tripped over someone’s foot and almost fell onto nir knees. While the yellow collared individual apologised for having had her foot stuck out ne wasn’t really listening or interested. It did bring nem out of nir own head for a moment though. Ne replicated a glass of water and went to sit down, preferring to stay away from the more crowded tables and popular areas such as the seating near the viewports. :: :: Most people were here to eat and had plates and bowls atop their trays but Renos didn’t care. Ne wore an expression of deep concern, hugged nir PADD with the left arm and sat staring at the glass, increasingly unaware of nir surroundings. Ne was deep in thought about how ne was going to get a message back to the J’naii and what ne could do to help. Ne almost wished ne was back home, if only because ne wanted to be able to comfort this J’naii in person and give nem a hug and a new lipstick. Ne absently rubbed nir lips together thinking about how easy these things were to come by for nem now. :: :: Every so often a louder noise nearby, like the irritating scraping of a really sharp knife over a plate, or a dropped spoon would catch nir attention and make nem look around and pay attention to the Mess Hall for a bit. Whenever ne thought about the video and the expression ne saw, the emotion in the voice it made nem have to blink back the tears as a wave of emotion hit him. How ne hated nir own people at times. :: --- Lt Cmdr Renos Chief Medical Officer USS Apollo-A and Nila simmed by Ensign Maxwell Traenor Science Officer USS Apollo-A
  18. round 3 Lt. Evan Delano - Something Big

    (( Menthar Memories )) DELANO: Why come to me with this? :: The human on the other side of the table was leaning forward, his hands clasped in front of him. Andrew Davenport. Journalist and, apparently, troublemaker. Something about the man had made Evan suspicious of the man the moment he’d sat down at the table. :: :: At Davenport’s request, Evan had come in inconspicuous civilian clothing - a simple button up shirt and dark slacks - to conceal his Starfleet affiliation. Davenport himself wore a dark hooded shirt that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a few days. :: As the reporter talked, Evan watched for any tell that might betray a lie. :: DAVENPORT: Because you’re the closest thing to a cop I’m willing to trust right now. (lowering his voice) Someone tried to kill me - or have me killed - and I don’t think it was one of these Maquis Reborn. :: Evan looked the man over. He’d done a little digging into the journalist’s background before agreeing to meet with him. The man was not well-liked within Starfleet, and though he did have a following among some political ideologues on Earth, he was virtually unknown outside of the Sol system. In fact, Evan had learned, the man hadn’t so much as left the system in at least seven years. Until he abruptly decided to move to the frontier. He also happened to arrive on DSX the day before a terrorist organization had attacked the station. :: :: Andrew Davenport wasn’t just suspicious. It was clear he was hiding something. Something that Evan intended to know before this conversation was over. Whatever it was, Davenport seemed to think it was dangerous. :: DELANO: What’s wrong with Glinn Zorkal? :: The human looked surprised.:: DAVENPORT: Besides the fact that he’d probably arrest me as a suspected Maquis sympathizer? :: Evan narrowed his eyes. :: DELANO: What makes you think I won’t? DAVENPORT: Because you’re Vulcan. Or at least half-Vulcan. Zorkal seems like a good man, but he’s also the Cardassian chief of security on a station that just lost its Cardassian CO to a terrorist attack. A terrorist attack with Federation - and more importantly, anti-Cardassian roots. I think you’re more likely to be able to see past that and help me figure out what’s going on. :: Evan sighed and picked up his drink. He’d barely touched it. He liked black russians, but he wanted to keep his mind clear. A very large part of him wanted to simply get up and walk away from the table. Maybe send a message to Zorkal, or Calderan, or even Egan Manno. But he could see the logic in the journalist’s explanation. The Cardassian justice system was inconsistent at best. If higher ups were calling for arrests, Evan wasn’t sure he’d put his trust in a Cardassian security officer either. :: :: On the Starfleet side of things, Evan, a lieutenant, could be more discreet than a higher ranking officer like Calderan. Besides, if Davenport’s would-be assassin wasn’t part of the Maquis Reborn, there was a good chance he - or she - was a Federation citizen. Davenport’s background didn’t seem to account for enemies from other jurisdictions. :: :: Evan set his glass down without so much as a sip. :: DELANO: Alright. I can probably look into this. But I’ll still need to talk to Zorkal. :: Davenport looked like he wanted to object, but he held his tongue. That earned him a few points, Evan thought. :: DELANO: I don’t know if the captain will go for it, but I may be able to get you quarters on Garuda. That would put you in our jurisdiction and give me at least some legal authority to start poking around. :: Davenport nodded and remained quiet for a moment. He looked around the bar, then returned his focus to Evan. :: DAVENPORT: I always hated space travel. :: Evan raised an eyebrow. :: DELANO: You’ve come an awfully long way, then. :: The journalist shrugged and downed the last of his own drink. Something orange and with a vague floral scent. He thought it might be Risian, but Evan couldn’t identify it with any certainty. :: DAVENPORT: I have a good reason. I was… I thought it would make for a good story, but after this… :: The human averted his eyes and focused on the single ice cube at the bottom of his glass. :: DELANO: (harshly) I’m through with vagueries, Mr. Davenport. If you want my help, you need to tell me what this is about. Why would someone want you dead? :: Davenport swallowed, once, then looked him in the eye. :: DAVENPORT: (voice low) How closely do you follow Council politics? :: Council? As in the Federation Council? What the hell was this about? :: DELANO: I vote. I read up on the candidates when I do. That’s about it. DAVENPORT: Did you know that they heavily influenced the decision to share this station with the Cardassians? DELANO: And? DAVENPORT: None of that debate was public. I only know about it because… (break) Ugh, that’s not important. Don’t you think it’s a little strange that the Federation Council is making backroom deals with the Cardassian government? DELANO: Not really. We’ve been working with them for decades. Ever since the war, really. DAVENPORT: Exactly! But that cooperation has always been transparent and open. Why keep it behind closed doors now? Why not tell the Starfleet officers in the region until the deal was done? :: Egan Manno had asked him about this very thing while he’d still been Garuda’s Strategic Operations head. He’d never managed to find her a good answer. :: DELANO: I still don’t understand what you’re getting at. :: Davenport leaned even closer. Deep brown eyes locked on his. :: DAVENPORT: Something big - something very big - is about to happen between the Federation and the Cardassian governments. Something that a lot of people aren’t going to like. Something that could even lead to things like… say the rebirth of an anti-Cardassian terrorist group. :: Evan immediately thought of the sabotage he’d found in Ambassador Prianna’s shuttle during Garuda’s encounter with the Kubarey. Of the strange rumblings out of Zeta Equulei regarding the end of the Myr Luuk/Community conflict. Harrison Ross’ not-quite-explained treason. Could there be a common thread? :: :: Now it was Evan’s turn to whisper. :: DELANO: Are you saying that factions within the Federation are actively conspiring against the Council? :: The reporter’s eyes lit up and a mirthless smile curled his lip. :: DAVENPORT: I don’t know for sure, but I can see it in your eyes. It would explain a lot of what’s been going on around here, wouldn’t it? DELANO: Yes, but… :: For centuries now, the Federation believed itself to have moved beyond this kind of petty politics. Yes, the occasional official was removed from office for scandals, but this was way beyond that. It bordered on sedition. The memory of the Dominion War was still fresh for many of its survivors. Yes, the Cardassians had ultimately paid a heavy price for their role in escalating to war, but there were those who had called for greater reparations. Sanctions. Some had even advocated for the complete annexation of Cardassian space. A few of those people were still sitting members of the Council. :: DAVENPORT: You understand, right? The Council is sitting on an old fashioned powder keg. They’ve started the ball rolling towards… something. Only now they’ve realized that some of us - Cardassian and Federation - aren’t ready. So both governments are trying to find a way to resolve this without having it blow up in their faces. DELANO: And you think someone would kill you to keep you from… what, telling others what you know? :: The reporter shook his head. :: DAVENPORT: Probably not for that. But… I know I seem suspicious, and when tensions are high, it isn’t hard to force a connection between one suspicion and another. Maybe some Cardassian gul thought I was an agent for the Council - some kind of shadow representative, perhaps. Maybe some other government caught wind of the deal and is trying to stop it. Who knows. That’s what I need you to find out. DELANO: And what’s in it for you? :: Davenport shrugged, finally leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. :: DAVENPORT: It’ll still make one hell of a story when it’s all over. :: Evan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.:: DELANO: Unless someone kills you first. :: The journalist’s expression quickly soured as Evan stood up to leave. :: DELANO: Don’t worry, I’m not going to let that happen. If I can help it, anyway. I suggest you return to your quarters until I have a chance to talk to the captain about bringing you on board. DAVENPORT: And what should I do in the meantime? :: Now it was Evan’s turn to smile. :: DELANO: Write. Or whatever it is you normally do. You just witnessed the rebirth of one of the most infamous terrorist organizations in the history of the quadrant. Isn’t that enough to keep you busy for a few days? :: The other man nodded, though he seemed reluctant. :: DAVENPORT: You're right, I suppose. :: The reporter sighed and started getting to his feet. :: DAVENPORT: Lieutenant, I really appreciate you helping me out with this., DELANO: Don’t thank me yet. Something tells me this is going to get a lot messier before we're done. === Lieutenant Evan Delano Chief of Security/Tactical USS Garuda Andrew Davenport Freelance Journalist
  19. round 3 Lt. JG. Alora DeVeau - "Captive Audience"

    ((Nygel II aka the Gateway Planet)) DeVeau: Ow. ::Her eyes still refused to focus completely, but they eventually condescended to doing so enough that Alora was able to recognise Rahman.:: Rahman: Ow is right. DeVeau: Ow infinity. ::Those blasted lights kept wriggling and writhing, which almost made Rahman look as if she had a strange case of dancing Venuvian glow pox.:: DeVeau: Dare I ask where we are? Rahman: We're on the cavern floor. Commander Ross and Dr. Saveron are above us. I'm not sure about the others. DeVeau: I was afraid you'd say something like that. ::Her entire body screamed, assaulted in some places by fire, in others by knives. Slowly, Alora made an attempt to sit up and a cry escaped while tears stung her already clouded eyes.:: Rahman: Don't try to move just yet. You took a nasty hit to the head, and I don't have a medical tricorder--or even a regular tricorder--to guess how severe it is. DeVeau: Lovely. ::She nodded.:: Rahman: The point is, we're alive. ::A blurred hand moved and the chirp of the combadge followed. Her badge. She had a badge. That's right there was a badge. Her fingers fumbled for it and she managed to tap into the conversation.:: Rahman: =/\= Rahman to Commander Ross. Are you and Doctor Saveron all right, sir? =/\= Ross: =/\= We're alive, if not exactly in one piece. What's your status? =/\= Rahman: =/\= Lieutenant DeVeau and I are on the cavern floor. We've both sustained injuries--possibly severe. I don't know if we'll be able to reach your location. =/\= DeVeau: We fell down the hooooole. ::There was a sudden almost irresistible urge to giggle, but at the first attempt to do so, her body complained. Loudly.:: DeVeau: Ow. Ross: =/\= We'll come down to you. =/\= Rahman: =/\= Understood. Do you see Lieutenant Zeme or Doctor- =/\= ::Rahman didn't have a chance to finish. As a flash of light was accompanied with the distinct tone of a disrupter rifle, Rahman slumped to the ground. Alora's scream reverberated throughout the cavern walls.:: Pasht-Nos: Quiet! ::Alora's teeth chomped on her tongue and she drew blood, but it kept her from voicing another scream. She winced as he snatched her combadge and proceeded to make the appropriate threats.:: Pasht-Nos: =/\= Commander Ross, is it? =/\= Ross: =/\= ...that's right. =/\= Pasht-Nos: =/\= This is Captain Pasht-Nos of the Free Trade Union. I'm going to make this very simple for you today, commander. You're going to repair this Gateway and secure my passage off of this planet... =/\= ::Alora's eyes crossed as they stared down the blackness of the barrel.:: Pasht-Nos: =/\= ...or you're going to have two dead Starfleet officers to beam back up. =/\= Ross: =/\= That's impossible. Iconion technology is thousands of years in advance of- =/\= ::Impossible was not a word that Pasht-Nos wanted to hear. He stepped back and fired up and past the walkway, showering Ross and the others with hot rocks freed from the cavern walls.:: ::Somehow, Alora managed not to scream, but she couldn't help but cringe. The motion sent more fire through her body and she had to bite her tongue again - that time to keep from voicing her pain.:: Pasht-Nos: =/\= This is not a negotiation! The Gateway lies at the center of the network of tunnels. Meet us there, and perhaps you will see your women alive again. =/\= ::He flung the badges on the floor and shot them. They were destroyed and so went any hope of communicating with her colleagues on the ground or in space. That task completed, the man focused on her once more.:: Pasht-Nos: Can you walk? DeVeau: I don't know. I haven't tried. ::Although she still couldn't focus completely, there was no mistaking the snarling smirk on such a sinister seeming.:: Pasht-Nos: On your own feet or dragged by your hair: either way, we're going. Now! DeVeau: Okay. ::The best thing she could do was comply. Keep cool. Try not to panic. But panic was what she wanted to do. Her heart pounded furiously against her chest as she tried to order her limbs to comply with her desires.:: ::Her left arm refused to move. Dislocated or broken? She couldn't tell and the strange combination of tingling and numbness couldn't be interpreted. The cavern swam as she rose, her motion slow, careful. Her legs complained, particularly her right ankle. It was extremely painful, but she could hobble if she had to - and frankly, she had to. She inhaled deeply, took a step and almost fell. Almost.:: Pasht-Nos: Stop stalling! ::Alora winced and lifted her eyes. Whether she was praying or looking for her friends above wasn't certain and she didn't let her foggy gaze linger.:: Pasht-Nos: ::laughs:: He can't help you now. Let's move! ::She had to focus, had to move had to...nausea gripped her and it took almost everything she had to keep from heaving. Despite her attempt, bile rose to her mouth though she managed to choke it down as she began to hobble while escorted by her captor.:: Lt. JG. Alora DeVeau Science Officer and Captive USS Mercury
  20. round 3 Irina Pavlova - Churches

    ((Church)) ::Irina never went to church. She was raised Russian Orthodox, and after arriving in the United States her father continued to attend services, but Irina had not stepped foot in a church since leaving Russia. It just made no sense. Since her mother was killed, the whole concept of some happy and wonderful grandpa in the sky looking out for you just didn't work. Those lessons were relearned in Afghanistan and Pakistan, where Irina learned that nobody was coming to help her, and that if she was to survive, it would be only by her own wits, and no small amount of pure, blind, chaotic luck. The Taliban would kill her, or they would keep her around, entirely at their whim.:: ::The night of the riots was like a return the combat. Irina was just passing through, on her way to New York. She had stopped in Ravensville for a cup of coffee and perhaps an ice cream for Katya, and the two of them were actually inside the Plaza Caglia when the excitement started as Irina had decided to have the oil changed in her car. It was actually what led to her job.:: ::Many townspeople had taken refuge inside the restaurant/bar, and Irina, like them, had no plans to go outside or in any way get involved. When the windows broke and a group of aggressive young men entered the bar, however, all thoughts of waiting it out went right out that broken window. As the four men started trashing the place and terrorizing those inside, one of them made the mistake of looking at Katya for perhaps a second too long, and immediately found the baseball bat he had been holding ripped from his hand and then smashed into the side of his head. Irina proceeded to beat the living daylights out of all four, and then she heard the single shot from outside.:: ::She remembered dropping the bat and upending most of the tables and ordering everyone to crouch behind them, while she peered over the top with her own pistol at the ready. Fortunately, after the shot was fired, things calmed down quickly.:: ::She didn't know why she didn't just pick up her car the next morning and keep on driving, but for whatever reason, she had stayed in Ravensville. She rented a small two bedroom apartment, got a job keeping the peace at the very same bar, and since there was a large VA hospital just 40 miles away in the same county, she stayed. Now she was in a church, listening to descriptions of the police officer who died when that single shot was fired.:: Rascon: Hey, you're that bouncer who looks like Michelle Pfeiffer who kicked my [...] when I was drunk! Those were some cool moves. I totally felt them in the morning, so respect for slapping a drunken bum who should have known better back into line! Pavlova: I've got a lot more moves where those came from. ::Irina completely put aside that they were in a church, as she had no real respect for such places anyway, and played along.:: Rascon: Do you know if Plaza Caglia is open? You don't just let something like this pass you by without raising some kind of a toast. If you don't have to work then you're welcome to join us and I'll shout you for a drink. It's the least I can do after... whatever I did that made it feel like you dislocated my leg last time. Pavlova: We should open in about an hour, and I'll have vodka on ice. ::As someone started to move past him in the queue, Daz, gave them an elbow.:: Rascon: How about you, Kael? Joining us in the bar? Thomas: Err, sorry? Rascon: You've gotta have some stories to share about the big guy, right? Thomas: Oh, a few. Matthews: ::Coughing:: Hey Kael, Pavolva, nice to see you while I'm sober. ::Irina nodded, then backed away. Too many cops. She resumed her quiet stance near the exit, keeping an eye out for Leo. It was hard for him, she knew. The bullet was meant for him, and he knew it. It was a sort of guilt that all soldiers felt for those who didn't make it, worse if their loss was the reason for one's own survival. Irina knew the feeling well.:: ::A drink would help, preferably far more than just one.:: Irina Pavlova Bouncer
  21. ((Shelter ~ SB118 Ops)) ::Wanda was evacuated from main sickbay together with her mother. Wanda was spending days since mother’s injury and sitting by her bed, reading her and talking to her hoping it will wake her mother from coma she was in ever since the end of the first surgery. After all this months, Wanda was almost ready to accept that her mother will not wake up any time soon. Her father couldn’t accept that. He even accepted a desk position aboard the station to can be near his wife, something Wanda considered impossible for her parents.:: ::Though, she considered impossible for them to ever think of having another child or to retire, but they planned both and this accident ruined their plans thoroughly. It was hard watching her father suffer a loss of a baby, though unborn. He was suffering and in his pain he failed to see that his only child is suffering too. Suffering because of her mother yes, but equally suffering for Wanda was watching her colleagues taking over the station command and she was not there for them to help. Wanda felt as she failed them.:: ::She missed them a lot and couldn’t find a courage to go and say hi. Worst was seeing Marvin almost every day. Just a few days ago she decided to one day when father replace her in sickbay go and talk to him. Wanda loved him and she had to find out do he feels the same for her.:: ::Now she was sitting in the shelter while they were fighting something obviously very deadly when they moved all the civilians to the shelters. She wondered will she see any of them again and it was hurting her, so much. When her father arrived and brought few boxes of blankets, she stood to him and explained she want him to take her to command.:: G. DYAMONE: No, absolutely not. DYAMONE: Enough is Enough. Father, 'you' can do that or I’ll ask one of security officers. You know that I’m much safer with you escorting me. Your choice, Sir. ::She was watching him firm and tough. Sir shook him, obviously. It was telling him that she means it seriously that she is returning to active duty when she treated him as superior officer. He looked at her in silence, turned away from her and then back to her. Gordon took one of the blankets from the box and covered his wife kissing her in her cheek, then turned back to Wanda.:: G.DYAMONE: I can’t lose you, child. I lost a baby this year, i can’t lose my only child. DYAMONE: You know I was always careful. ::He bite his upper lip and pouted, then grabbed another blanket from the box and put it on her forming a robe around her and pining it with something Wanda couldn’t recognize at first. When she finally saw the pin she knew he was ready for this. Gordon obviously knew his child better than she expected him.:: DYAMONE: You cleared this with security, pa? G.DYAMONE: Yes, commbadge is yours to use. I told them you’re devoted medic and you’ll surely want to help. ::He sighed heavy.:: Are you ready? ::Wanda collected her medical bag from under the bed her mother was laying on, kissed her mother and nodded to her father.:: DYAMONE: Ready. ::They walked in silence. Maybe because they were not alone, maybe because they wouldn’t talk anyway. Some parts of the station looked as nothing happened while some they moved through as the war was followed by thunderstorm with lot of heavy wind. On their way Wanda stopped few times to check bodies and her father and his marines frowned every time, all up till she actually found alive woman barely breathing hit by something or maybe someone running to the shelter and left for dead. One of them was left behind to help poor woman to sickbay.:. ::When they were almost on their destination, another body attracted her attention. Woman was laying on the floor as resting, but moreover she was looking familiar. When Wanda approached young Betazoid opened her eyes and smiled.:: ILWARY: Deities, thank you. I thought I’ll stay here forever. My uniform is stuck and I’m frozen and couldn’t pull out. ::Wanda saw the look on the faces of tough marines and growled at them.:: DYAMONE: She is ill and weak, in her condition getting frozen as she is is disastrous. Don’t look like idiots, help her. ::Soon everyone realized it was impossible to pull the uniform without ripping it apart. When they got Ireya up even Wanda couldn’t but laugh seeing the hole on young Betazoid’s back. One of marines, the youngest one took off his jacket and covered Ireya and her bare back and posterior.:: ::When they reached Command center everyone entered, but Wanda stopped at the door. She was imagining this moment so many times and in her imagination it was easy, she will come to Rogers and tell him she is back... she first saw James and it shook her and then remembered how she just sent a message to Captain never faced him when left to take care of her mother and now it all turned into a fear that made her legs heavy and her resolution fade away.:: DYAMONE: Captain. ::She whispered and when nobody noticed her, took a deep breath and said aloud.:: Captain, permission to sssstep aboard, Sir. ROGERS:: Turning around at the sibilant pronunciation of ssstep he paused in confusion seeing Lt DyAmone standing looking at him. He said the first thing that came into his head. :: Welcome back Lieutenant. DYAMONE: Thank you. I... ::She looked up to her father, seeking support and courage.:: I would like to return to duty, Sir. ::She just glanced to Will; still expecting to be refused, Wanda held her head down.:: ROGERS: ::Quite sure his inane greeting had caused her obvious discomfort he responded to her request:: Lieutenant we need every hand to the wheel. You are returned to duty. to be continued... PNPC Wanda DyAmone Medical Officer Starbase 118 Operations
  22. round 3 Lt Cmdr Atimen - Alone

    (( Ithassa Sector - 2 Years Prior )) ::It had been a long day’s work for the inhabitant of this small shanty on a hill. Wood and plaster like the houses of old, it was a single rectangular structure with singular purpose. A lone mattress lay bare on a corner, along with a portable food replicator unit - not the only technology, for the rest of the room was filled with it.:: ::It was raining. The hardest rain he had yet seen, and he feared for his work. The lush green grass outside soaked up the ambrosia of life, rejoicing in the growth it would bring. The structure might have been made by replicator, but it wasn't holding up as well - water had begun to trickle onto the floor. And onto his equipment.:: ::He quickly tossed a tarp over his obsession and turned his attention upwards - the leaks had to be patched, and quick. Duranium, he told himself. Duranium would have been a better choice. Ugly, but better. The romantic in him apparently had disagreed. He grabbed a polymer adhesive and took a deep breath, stepping out into the flood.:: ::The wind howled in his ears and battered against his sides, and it wasn't five seconds before his hair became matted and his clothes waterlogged. He pulled himself onto the roof, wiping his bangs out of his eyes as he tried to find the source of his pain. Fifteen minutes later and he collapsed exhausted, staring up at the darkened sky. The wind died down and the rain became soft.:: ::He had been living here for a while. So much so that it had become his home, now far more than the temporary housing he originally sought. It was his refuge. It was his castle. It was his solitude. He had come here alone, a refugee from the darkness of space. He had run. Fled. Escaped. Where he had come from was death, and it was on his hands. He had told himself he had to, that there was no other option. It was a lie.:: ::Each rain-drop reminded him of home. He missed his friends. His family. His captain. His crew. His ship. In his mind he was a failure, and even worse he was a deserter. He had abandoned them when they needed him the most.:: Atimen: I'm sorry. ::He whispered, blinking rain and tears out of his eyes.:: I'm sorry. ::He hadn't spoken a word aloud since he arrived all those months ago. He had no one to speak it to. No one but the rain. But it listened. It embraced him. The giver of life, of growth, of sustenance. There, on that roof, light years away from any living soul, he was not alone.:: -- Lt. Cmdr Atimen Chief of Security/Tactical Starbase118 Operations
  23. round 3 Captain Diego Herrera, "The Address"

    ((Assembly Chamber, Prak Zel)) ::Following Minister Haksar into the lion's den, Diego caught himself tapping his PADD against his leg and quickly flipped it through his fingers to look at the display. He had left himself bullet points to guide his speech along with the necessary logs and records from his various sources. As he was shown to the lectern in the centre of the room, he was pleased to see an LCARS interface, which was going to make the technical side of the affair relatively easy, at least.:: ::Many of the seats around the chamber had now been filled, and those that weren't were about to be, it seemed. Zakdorn were filing in through doors on the upper level. The atmosphere was entirely different now to how it had been during their previous visit. Granted, there had been tension between Haksar and Wadke but this was more electric. Anticipation from both sides laced the atmosphere; this felt comparable to the feeling that Diego often experienced at the beginning of a Parrises Squares match, with two sides staring each other down, each trying to anticipate the other's tactics and plan accordingly.:: ::Tapping at the lectern controls, Diego transferred the files from his PADD to the device, ready to start his presentation. Instantly, the viewscreen switched to a split field, with the Federation logo on the left and the Zakdorn emblem on the right. Diego turned towards Haksar, who was still positioned nearby.:: Herrera: Everything's set, unless you can think of anything else? Haksar: I have full confidence in you Captain, and you too Ensign. ::Smiling:: Just be true to your convictions and you will be fine. Herrera: Alright. ::He clapped a hand on the Minister's shoulder in thanks.:: You've been a big help. Haksar: Not at all. Thank you Captain! And it's been a pleasure working with you madam. Androsia: Yes Minister, as always you have remained a true delight and a refreshing presence here on Prak Zel. Whatever success shall be had here today, I know you have played a key role in it. Thank You again. ::The Minister left to assume his position in the Assembly Chamber. Diego looked around the room for a moment; a sea of faces looked down on his position with great interest and comments were already being passed between members, all lost in the sea of general conversation. There was a seat placed alongside him on which Ensign Androsia could sit during the address and as she was about to settle, Diego took one final opportunity to ease his nerves.:: Herrera: You'd better be ready for questions. Androsia: My dear Captain, THEY had better be ready for some answers. Do not fear, you will do just fine, of this I have no doubts. Herrera: ::Smiling:: I'm not worried. If the Minister's appetite is anything to go by, we'll be done in time for lunch. Androsia: Very true, though too I fear it is the Zakdorn and Klingon appetite’s alike that have caused this issue in the first place. But nonetheless, you must focus. ::A pre-recorded chime rang throughout the building, followed by an announcement that the assembly was in session. Diego listened as his name was announced, as was Androsia's, alongside the matter for discussion. The massed Ministers fell silent one by one and Diego left them that way for a moment before launching into his address, tapping at the lectern controls to bring up his first visual rendition of a sensor log.:: ::On the wall, the Klingon moon Praxis exploded.:: Herrera: 2293. The Klingon empire experiences a disaster that throws their home planet into turmoil. This was the trigger for one of the most important events in the history of the Federation: the signing of the Khitomer accords. Since that day, we have been allied with the Klingons, for better or for worse, for almost a century. We have traded with each other. Explored each other's culture. Protected each other. ::He paused just long enough to let that sentence hang in the air.:: There have been times when we have stood together to face unrelenting enemies. We stared into the eyes of the Dominion and we did not blink. Even after General Martok was replaced by a changeling and our two powers stood on the brink of war, we were able to patch things up and put our differences behind us. ::The viewscreen changed to a display of the Klingon incursion into the Trinity sector, depicted as a tactical map.:: Herrera: Recently, something changed. The Klingons' thirst for war reawakened. After the Hobus supernova, they were given the opportunity to exact what they would consider to be revenge against a long standing enemy. The Federation objected. The Romulans are in no position to threaten us on any major scale, after all. Their homeworld and their fleets are in disarray and it will be decades before they can rebuild. Even then, they would need our help and support and in that time we have an opportunity to forge peaceful relations with the Star Empire. It's happened before, briefly, on a range of different occasions. Unfortunately, that doesn't appeal to the Klingon psyche. ::Knowing the next part of his speech well enough that he did not need to look at his notes, Diego wandered out from behind the lectern, leaning back against it and folding his arms.:: Herrera: If we go back to Praxis for a moment... that was the start of quite a different journey. You see, the Klingons made peace with the Federation because they needed us. Their technology was not as advanced as our own. They had concentrated for too long on making weapons, ships and cloaking devices, but without resources to power them, they were dead in the water. We supported them as they asked. We took the initiative in forging peace with their worlds. Without our help, who knows whether they would have survived the explosion of Praxis and maybe the Romulans would have had a chance to finish them off? Sure, the Klingons fought alongside us during the Dominion War, but who was first onto Cardassia Prime? It was Starfleet who sent support to the Cardassian Resistance and that led to the Founder Leader being taken hostage. Who fought against the Scarlet Brotherhood when they threatened to take control of Deep Space Nine and the wormhole? Who was it who came out on top when we last locked horns? Without wanting to cause any offence, the Klingon invasion forces did not even push us into a position where a drawn out conflict ensued and that meant that we did not even reach a stage where the superior tactical minds of the Zakdorn were called into play. Wouldn't it be infuriating to engage in fight after fight alongside an ally that wasn't patient enough to listen to you? That has consistenly depended on the Federation for aid? That has lost out to us so many times when we have fought? ::Turning around, he changed the screen to a map of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants:: If our methods are so weak, why is our territory larger than the Klingons'? ::Returning to his original position, he showed footage of the first fleet engaging a Borg Cube at Earth.:: Herrera: Maybe the Klingons did employ tactics in certain situations. Where were they when the Borg attempted an invasion of Earth? Where were they at Wolf 359? Perhaps their long-term goal in that regard was to let Starfleet get wiped out while they turned a blind eye? ::Without warning, he cut the video feed altogether.:: Herrera: Or, maybe they didn't. Maybe there isn't going to be a war. Maybe we're looking at a rogue faction of Klingons that has very little support on the High Council. Think what would happen then if Zakdorn IV were to withdraw from Federation membership and join the Klingon Empire. Would you still enjoy the same privileges you do with us? There's a common misconception throughout the Federation sometimes that the founding races receive preferential treatment. I can't argue with the fact that there are still more humans in Starfleet than any other race, but we're talking non-military benefits as well here. The Zakdorn, by virtue of being members of the Federation, have access to some of the greatest scientific minds in the galaxy. There are opportunities to interact with other species and benefit from their unique talents. Vulcan logic. Human resourcefulness. Bajoran spiritualism. Trill experience. Bolian enterprise. By replacing that all with the Klingons' prowess in battle, your world would lose more than it would gain. And while the Klingon High Council might be grateful, where are the guarantees that they will look after your non-military interests in the same way as the Federation? ::He looked around the room, trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible in quick succession. When next he spoke, he had dropped his voice to a near whisper.:: Herrera: Will you sacrifice culture, science and risk your race's identity over the half-truths the pro-Klingon movement offers you? Or will you see this for what it truly is: an ill-planned attempt to switch reason for armament? I'd like you all to think about that carefully for a moment before I open the floor for questions. ::Conversation bloomed once more around the room as Ministers considered what had been said. Diego looked to his diplomatic officer for her reaction.:: Androsia: Captain...if they don’t see the logic and reason and truth and passion from what you’ve said...I don’t think they are deserving to be in the Federation from this point on. Herrera: That should provoke a few interesting questions, I hope. Androsia: Oh no doubt about that. Nows time that we hear a few challenging roars. But don’t worry, I am with you in this and you did as admirably if not more so as could ever be asked of a true StarFleet Captain. ::Another chime brought the Ministers slowly to silence. The grilling was about to begin.:: TAG/TBC Captain Diego HerreraCommanding OfficerUSS VigilantNCC-75515http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Herrera,_Diego
  24. ((StarFleet Intelligence, Operative branch)) :: Chang stood before a window, looking in on one of her former operatives. Alix Ozera had been a promising prospect, and his early initiative had garnered him several undercover assignments, of which te information he had obtained had been quite usable to Starfleet...except the last mission he was sent on. He had returned and been debriefed, he seemed fine..but once it had been determined that he had been compromised by the Orion Syndicate, culminating in the attempted assassination of Commander Hannibal Parker, an attempt which was foiled by Isaac Bale aboard the USS Mercury. Since then, Alix had remained in custody, and repeated debriefings could shed no more light as to where the chip which had been implanted in his brain had come from, or who had given him the order to do it. :: Much information had been gained from the information retrieved on Duronis, and it was still being analysed. One of the things Starfleet did was to order Chang to pull some of her deep cover operatives out of the Orion Syndicate, while some, who were too deep, were allowed to stay. Of those she recalled, one was Alisha Ozera, Alix's sister. She had been invaluable in her role, but Starfleet decided that she needed to be reassigned back in her old role as a Medical analyst, much to Changs' displeasure. Alisha had given up a lot to work in deep cover, and she was good at it.Chang had summoned her here to see her brother, and to tell her of her reassignment. In some ways, this would be good for her, as she could spend time with her brother while he recovered, and Alisha's first assignment would be to find out who made that chip and where could they be found...:: ::Many things were on Alisha Ozera’s mind, and most of them troubled her. Her brother’s condition had deteriorated – back on the [REDACTED], his brain had done some rather odd things, giving off strange readings – at one stage, it seemed like he was having an unexplained seizure. Alisha was Alix’s twin sister – she couldn’t stand by and watch his brain give up on him. ::But it wasn’t just Alix that was starting to concern her. After going through the procedure to have her Human DNA flushed out and “swapped” with an Orion’s, turning her skin permanently green and making the computer register her as Orion, she felt . . . stronger. More physically able than what she used to. Whether it was something to do with the newly-implanted Orion DNA or not, she didn’t know, but she was starting to like it. But due to the constantly changing situation, the process looks like it was all done for nothing. Alisha was going to be reassigned, and she didn’t like the sound of that. She had already spent too much time as a Medical Analyst on Chang’s ship, and she didn’t intend on doing it again. Sure, she appreciated Chang for pulling her out of the cold and allowing her to do what she had been doing, but she didn’t appreciate being assigned a task which would become boring very quickly. ::Alisha shook her head slowly at herself. No, she wasn’t going to allow Intelligence to put her in some room with a heap of data on “strange” deaths that other Medical officers “couldn’t explain”. And she wasn’t going to allow them to lock Alix in a cell in his condition, when he clearly didn’t remember the assassination attempt on Commander Parker – if there ever was one, as Isaac Bale seemed far too interested in Alix’s case than what he would normally be; for all Alisha knew, it was Bale that had committed the attempt on Parker’s life, and it was Alix that had stopped him. With all Bale’s mucking around, there was no longer proof of what had actually happened . . . and that’s what’s been keeping Intelligence from locking Alix in some hell hole somewhere as soon as they possibly could. No proof.:: Chang: : Looking at the chip in Alishas' hand:: It's amazing something so small could cause so much damage..... ::Alisha barely acknowledged the woman standing next to her. Alisha had been watching the operation to remove the foreign chip from Alix’s head – a delicate operation that *should* have had Alisha at the well, but, according to regulation, she wasn’t allowed to due to being his sister. The group of “doctors” had finished, and Alix was already hours into recovery, but that didn’t stop Alisha from examining the small chip that had apparently made Alix a killing machine. But it wasn’t concern for Alix that had her examining it – in reality, it was for potential use . . . for Volkoff Industries.:: Alisha: It’s a very interesting piece of equipment. Especially if it’s from the Brotherhood or the Syndicate. I sent a deal out as Volkoff to see if I can catch the creators. Chang: Do you think that was wise? Alisha: Well, it’s the logical thing to do. The chip comes from the two organizations, Volkoff Industries sells weapons to both of them, and I head the industry. It was quicker than becoming a new identity all together. :: Alisha did have a point...but it could also raise red flags and Alisha would then be in more danger. Both the Scarlet Brotherhood and Orion Syndicate would be very wary of dealing with someone new, and the power vacum currently sweeping through both organizations, both sides had itchy trigger fingers...hence, the pullback ordered by Starfleet Intelligence..:: Chang: It light of recent events, it would seem to be wise....and you can still monitor the progress of your inquiry from your new post... ::Alisha put down the chip at the mentioning of a new post. Slowly, she turned her eyes to Chang.:: Alisha: Director, I’m not *Human* anymore, and you know why? To make the cover of Vivian Volkoff more believable and convincing to buyers. Putting me in a different position means that I’ve done all this, gone through so much pain, for *nothing*. :: Chang undestood how she felt...no field operative liked being reassigned to perform "staff" work. As important as it was, there were those in the upper echelons of Intelligence who have forgotten the adrenaline rush, the sacrifice, the living on the edge that came with field work. Then, she thought again...most in the upper echelons WERE analysts who had done very little field work...that was how they managed to survive to achieve such a rank in the first place...:: Chang: Alisha...if it makes you feel any better, I was not in favor of the reassignment. You have established a solid cover, and your information has been spot on:: Looking at her:: Being here will also give you a chance to check on your brother more frequently than if you were in deep cover... Alisha: I am *Orion*! My life has been taken away. I am no longer *related* to Alix, purely because it was necessary! Chang: In many ways, our lives are not ours to have. We serve a jealous master in Starfleet Intelligence...those deltas on the walls mean something, Alisha... :: Chang was referring to the large white granite wall in Starfleet Intelligence headquarters in San Franciscoonto which black deltas were affixed..each delta representing a member of Starfleet Intelligence who had lost their life in performance of their duty. Three of those had been recently added, one representing Tallis Soban, killed by the Orion Syndicate. That sobering fact was one which weighed on her mind daily as her operatives went about their dangerous, but necessary work...:: ::Sure, they mean throwing away two years work for some idiot behind a desk.:: Alisha: I can’t stand this anymore, Chang. ::She stood up.:: I’m going to see my brother. At this stage, he has more difficult work to do then what I would in years if I’m forced to work as an analyst. ::The Orion stood up, leaving the room and Chang to her thoughts. What Chang didn’t realize, however, was the Alisha had swapped the chip that had controlled Alix with a fake. Her plan was now in motion, and she had little time before someone realized what she was doing.:: :: Chang watched her go, but something within her was telling her that Alisha more more than unhappy with her new assignment, and her feelings of unsatisfaction. Chang sttod up to leave, and preceeded out to check on the repairs to her ship. They should be close to finished by now, and the rest of her crew could continue to enjoy the rare opportunity to enjoy Earth..:: ((Recovery, StarFleet Intelligence)) Alisha: How are you feeling? Ozera: Better then what I did a few days ago . . . ::The Terran tugged at his restraints and motioned to the lack of his left hand.:: Nice to know that they trust me. ::During an early mission with the Marines, Alix’s hand had been severed. The details as of why were unknown, but Intelligence reports suggested that it was to save his life – and as he was stuck in a Borg-prone area, it seemed logical enough. So, it was replaced with a robotic one, and apparently, the officers that put the restraints on him didn’t want to take any chances.:: Alisha: I’m surprised to see you up this quickly. While the chip was deep in the brain, it’s still a lot to recover from. Ozera: The doctors said I’ll be absolutely fine in a matter of days. ::Taking a hypospray, Alisha loaded it up with a knock-out drug.:: Alisha: Good. Unfortunately, I can’t take any chances, and having you fall unconscious when we’re trying to escape this branch is only makes things harder. Ozera: Understanda- Wait, *what*? ::It was then that Alisha released the spray into Alix’s neck, and the Terran’s eyes shut.:: Volkoff: I’ll talk to you later. ::Oh yes. StarFleet Intelligence had a traitor, and a very dangerous one at that. Alisha has always been “iffy” when it came to Intelligence. Never reporting on time, making ridiculous “mistakes”, constantly arguing and threatening Chang. Alisha was a ruse, and she was about to walk out of Intelligence without even a scratch due to the leverage on the bed that she was now moving.:: Officer: Hey, *stop*! ::Having no time for a random Intelligence officer, Vivian immediately disabled him, snapping his neck in the process, which immediately got the attention of the rest of the branch, the alarm going off when the life-sign suddenly disappeared. Soon, she’d be surrounded, but Vivian Volkoff had a plan for that, and everybody watching knew it.:: ::After defeating several officers, Vivian had gotten to the front doors, of which she knew, by experience, would be in lockdown, and trying to transport out of the main base would be a no-go, especially if Chang had anything to do with it. She wasn’t stupid. So, turning around to face the hoard of officers with phasers, rifles and even disruptors, the Orion merely laughed. A field officer would have jumped her by now, Allison would have shot her by now, but neither Kamela Allison or any properly trained field officers were present. Standing before her were merely analysts and scientists that were hardly worth the trouble.:: :: Chang was three levels below Medical when the klaxon went off..a truly unusual event. Chang ordered the facility locked down, making it impossible to beam out or leave. The facility was low level,nondescript, but bereft of operatives for the most part. Chang knew the security personnell were good, but nothing was kept there of great importance. The lift stopped and Chang was hung between floors until she entered her override code to get the lift moving..this time, moving towards the upper level and the exit. The doors opened and she was greeted by a sea of personnell storming towards the front doors. She knew beaming out was impossible, and the facility was locked down...no code would open those doors except one...and Chang had it.Changs' short stature made it impossible for her to see who was now trapped at the front doors until she fought her way to the front of the line...and she was shocked and enraged at what she saw. Alisha had gone rougue, and was taking her brother with her...:: Chang: There is no escape Alisha....you know that...... Volkoff: If you managed to catch me, we’d both know I’d be in a cell by now. Chang: What do you want? Volkoff: I want to leave. Chang: You have no reason to. Your brother needs care. What other possible reason would you want to leave? :: Chang thought about the chip, and a know grew in her gut....she was selling out to the Orions.....:: Volkoff: Isn’t it obvious? I have *buyers* to get to. So let’s say we put forward out stakes and speed this up. ::She pulled out her phaser, and pointed it at Alix’s head.:: Allow me to leave, or your chance at ever finding out how Ozera got a controller chip in his head is gone forever. :: Chang knew that if she had Bale, Allison, or any one of her other operatives, the woman would have been dead by now, or at least stunned.There were several weapons pointed at Alisha,and they were good shots, not snipers..which meant that they could not take out Alisha without also taking out her brother.. The worst part was, Alisha did not even have to have her phaser set to kill to take out her brother, not with the emitter right next to Alixs' head. She had one choice...try to stall her, and hope she made a mistake...:: Chang: Alisha...the Orion Syndicate is responsible for what happened to you brother...you know that...why would you want to abandon Starfleet to join them? :: Chang took a step forward..there were only fifteen meters seperating them....:: Volkoff: It’s not the Orions that want him, it’s the Brotherhood. They only joined forces with the Orions in order to achieve a common goal. You’d know this, except your other analysts are useless. ::She sighed, apparently getting a bit bored of the situation.:: The reason I’m leaving is because Intelligence has no use for me anymore, and my file has some serious red flags, which means that some idiot behind a desk will attach my file to a cancel order – I’d be sent into a room, and eliminated so that I don’t cause any more trouble for your little organization. Alix is merely leverage to help me leave. If he wants to come back and face cancelation, I’ll let him do so, but first, he’s going to help me leave. Chang: Alisha...there are other ways to achieve your goal. Let Alix go, and come with me to the (REDACTED).We can sort it all out there...I know you are upset, and you could be a great asset here... :: Chang knew that once she got to space, all bets were off. There were only three starships currently in the Sol system...hers, the USS Thunder-A, and the USS Charleston. All the crews were on holiday leave, and even if they were available, persuing Alisha, who was trained to evade, would be difficult. Her ship was the only one which could catch her, but her impulse engines were still being repaired.She picked a good time for a jailbreak..:: Volkoff: Chang, you’ve got twenty seconds before I pull the trigger and kill Ozera. It’s either I kill him and disappear, *or*, you let us go and he comes back after I leave the system. ::She wasn’t bluffing and she wasn’t lying – there was no hint of hesitation (she was trained to avoid it and do whatever necessary to complete a mission), and there was no look of fear in her eyes. From the looks of things, she’d willingly kill her own brother just to get out of the Sol System and back to Volkoff Industries. Vivian knew that without Alix, if she got out of Intelligence, she’d merely be caught once she got back onto her ship. Taking Alix with her was really the only way out, and Chang wasn’t going to just let Volkoff kill Alix . . . was she? No matter. Alix was just colattoral damage. Alisha Ozera was the chameleon, changing appearance with ease and skipping past borders without problems – disappearing and becoming someone else was what she did for a living. Volkoff, however, was going to be better. She was going to be the master, and she knew she’d get out of the facility one way or another, and disappear until she got back to her ship, Alix, or no Alix.:: :: Chang looked into Alishas' eyes...she knew there was no doubt she would kill Alix if she had to, but it also meant that she would die in a hail of phaser and disruptor fire. Chang was faced with an impossible choice...they would either both die, or they would both escape. Chang was enraged, but only her calm was appaarent. She took another step closer to Alisha...her next words as cold as space...:: Chang: If you do this, you know we will hunt you down...and you know what that means...... Volkoff: Oh I know very well what it means – a cancel order will be put on my file, and I get quick and easy access into the Orion Syndicate. ::She pressed the phaser into her brother’s temple.:: And now you’re out of time. What’s it going to be? :: The phaser firmly against Alixs' temple made her meaning clear:: ::Chang keyed in the override command to open the doors ONLY, so as long as she was on the grounds, she was still vulnerable..and carrying her brother would have to slow her down some....... ::As the door opened, Vivian pulled herself and Ozera out the doors, the hoard of officers and doctors gathered, watching her leave the facility, unable to do anything about it without losing an asset. While Chang probably thought that she could take Vivian out, the Orion with her hostage had a plan.:: Volkoff: Good choice. I’m sure we’ll be in touch, Director Chang. Chang: Your [...] right...we will be...... :: Chang was hoping Alisha would surrender...but as time went by, surrender was no longer an option on the table for her..:: ::The crowd in the building and the few officers that had their weapon trained on her outside of it stared. Time seemed slow, and there was little regret in Volkoff’s eyes. She couldn’t help but think, however, that she was leaving her family. No matter – she was sure that she’d be up against StarFleet soon enough. Finally, as she walked out of the facility gates, Vivian pulled a signal transmitter out of her pocket and pressed the button. Outside of the grounds, the lockdown was pointless. Volkoff, and her hostage, were beamed up to a ship.:: :: Chang silently cursed herself.. Alisha was a trained and skilled operative, and her transmitter had the ability to beam through shields. She watched as the shimmer of a transporter beam took Alisha and Alix away...they were now fugitives. Chang hurried back inside and quickly issued a scrambled and encrypted broadcast to every Intelligence outlet in Starfleet, and uploaded to every Intelligence briefing to every Starfleet installation. The orders were simple...if spotted, moniter her movements, but do not engage. Intelligence would track her..and eventually, Alisha would lead them to the new heads of the Orion Syndicate...and the Scarlet Brotherhood..and they would all suffer for the pain they have caused...:: ((4 hours later, Unknown Orion vessel)) ::Volkoff had merely waited during the hours of Alix being unconscious. While she wasn’t patient with her buyers or her own “crew”, she was much kinder to the Terran on the biobed. She wanted answers, and if she was going to mass-produce or even sell the chip, she was going to need to know what he had experienced. After he had told her everything he could, she would let him go, but not without offering him a position within Volkoff Industries. But finally, he stirred and opened his eyes with a groan.:: Ozera: I would feel better if you had physically knocked me out . . . ::Volkoff smiled a little, crossing her arms.:: Volkoff: I’m afraid that would have been *too* convincing for your Director. I had to make her believe that I would actually kill you, not torture you. That’s how your operatives make mistakes. ::She could tell that he was calm with the situation. While he was barely conscious, Alix was able to work out what had happened – he was in some sort of area that belonged to Orions, Alisha was not in a uniform, and there were no tools of torture or death nearby. He wasn’t even restrained, and his hand was back on his left arm. It seemed like they trusted him.:: Ozera: You defected. Volkoff: No, just changed my identity like I had a few months ago. ::She stood up to look out the window, the stars shooting past with the ship at warp speed.:: I needed your help to get out, and you gave it to me. For that, I’m in your debt. Ozera: And help wasn’t given unwillingly. ::He stared at her.:: It’s nice to finally meet you, Miss Volkoff. Volkoff:::She turned around to face him around.:: You too, Mister Ozera. ::Vivian pulled a data display over to the bed, the details of Volkoff Industries loaded up.:: Volkoff: Now, Mister Ozera, I’d like to propose an offer. Ozera: Oh? Volkoff: To repay you for your troubles, you have a choice on what you’re going to do next. You can either leave, and return to StarFleet Intelligence, *or*, you can join us here at Volkoff Industries as soon as you’re up and running about. ::Alix tilted his head a little, a grin on his face. Vivian couldn’t tell whether it was because he thought she was joking or if he was considering joining her.:: Ozera: It really depends on what position I’d be getting. I don’t exactly want to leave Intelligence for a desk job in an enemy company. ::Vivian shrugged. Alix Ozera was a very strong man, very resilient and demanding when he wanted to be. If he was going to be a part of the company, the Terran would have to shove his way in, and that meant playing the bad guy *permenantly*, being quick on his feet and trusting no one but Volkoff herself. Of course, he’d have to learn the ropes, especially if he was going to be placed in the position Vivian thought he was suited for.:: Volkoff: You are my most trusted asset, Mister Ozera, with skills I can’t deny – I can assure you that Volkoff Industries is merely here to help with the . . . growing economy of the Orions. Therefore, you’ll be my second in command and my security chief. ::Weakly, Alix folded his arms and stared at Vivian.:: Ozera: Your First Officer? ::Vivian nodded, and Alix smiled.:: Well, in that case, when do I start? JP by Vivian Volkoff Head of Volkoff Industries As simmed by LtCmdr Sky Blake Chief of Security/Second Officer USS Avandar & Chang Director, Starfleet Intelligence USS( REDACTED) As simmed by: Major Hannibal Tiberious Parker 2nd Officer/ Marine Commander/ Chief Of Strategic Operations USS Thunder/ Duronis II Embassy
  25. ((T’Mar’s Quarters, USS Apollo)) ::As the Betazoid man moved into her quarters, he smiled slightly. He took his seat on the floor and looked toward her as she lit the candles. He could almost sense the emotions in her raging like a summer storm. There was something much different about her than standard issue Vulcans. It was almost as if there was a [...] holding back everything, but it was leaking. He was not sure about how she was able to suppress her emotions as well as those from others around her. Being a Vulcan with empathic abilities, no matter how small, was a difficult thing to imagine.:: ::T’Mar lit her candles then sat down across from Zage. She looked at him in the eye, wondering why he was so willing to help her. She was thankful, but at the same time worried. When she was around him, her emotions were harder to suppress. She could only hope that these lessons would help her control that.:: T’Mar: Where shall we begin? Bolani: Close your eyes, and take a few deep breaths. T’Mar: ::Raising an eyebrow:: Alright.. ::Immediately, she closed her eyes and straightened her back, her hands in her lap and her shoulders back. It was a position she often was in when she meditated throughout the day. She began breathing in deeply through her nose, her chest rising, she held it for a moment then breathing out through her nose. As she relaxed, she let her wall drop that attempted to block out others’ emotions. For a moment she thought she sensed attraction from Zage, but she tossed it aside, figuring she was sensing someone else.:: ::As she closed her eyes, Zage glanced at her demeanor. He wanted to look for physical signs of stress and tension. Occasionally, he would catch himself admiring her features. It was something he would not dare be caught doing. As she drew her breaths one by one, he watched as she started to center. Closing his eyes, he began projecting a sense of calm as best as he could. His empathic abilities were good, but far from strong. He wondered if she was able to sense his feelings.:: Bolani: Are you able sense where your feelings start, and where mine begin? T’Mar: I.. ::She hesitated, afraid to prod and sense Zage’s feelings. She decided to just let it all go for the moment. It was not logical, of course, but an empathic Vulcan was biologically not logical! She stopped forcing the suppression her own emotions, which allowed her to sense Zage’s as well. With her mental walls down, she now had a better focus the feelings that she sensed from others. She found it almost exhilarating for a moment:: T’Mar: Yes. I do! ::With his eyes closed he listened intently. Until now, he was not sure how much of her feelings she allowed to surface. She was an odd creature to watch while on duty. Some moments we was as Vulcan as Vulcan could be. In other moments, her emotions were like a ray of sunshine barely shining through the clouds.:: Bolani: Tell me what you can decipher. T’Mar: Well.. I sense that my behaviour confuses you and.. ::She focused and once again sensed feelings of lust, which amused her:: nevermind. ::Suddenly T’Mar was afraid. She had never been so open with her feelings. She felt herself wanting to suppress her own emotions again. It had been so long since she had fully acknowledged her own feelings. She opened her eyes and looked at Zage.:: You will keep all of this private, correct? Bolani: ::smiling:: Of course. What happens behind the walls of this room will remain in this room. ::He thought for a moment about their location. If she were Human, or any other species it might have sounded like he was hitting on her, but given the situation it was a completely benign comment. Keeping their interactions private was his top priority. In the end, it would only help her develop things. At some point if she no longer wanted to sense the emotions of others, he could teach her to drown it out. At the same time, he could teach her to really be in tune with what is going on around her.:: T’Mar: I know. Thank you. I just.. I do not feel comfortable showing emotions around others. It’s not logical... but I know that this is necessary. ::For a moment, she wanted to hold his hand. She yearned for comfort. She then thought about the Vulcan she had been bonded with as a child. She never spoke of him, because she barely remembered him. He was a scientist and the last she had heard, he was on a ship studying dark matter. He would never comfort her. He would never understand what it is like to struggle with emotions. They should have been married by now, but neither one of them had been able to make it to a ceremony due to their duties. As far as she was concerned, she would never marry the cold man.:: ::Then she thought of Zage. He understood empathy and feelings in general. Perhaps, though, he didn’t fully understand her Vulcan side..:: ::Zage could sense her discomfort. It was akin to the feeling one would get doing anything for the first time. He remembered the first time he went skiing. He was so worried he would fall in the snow and tumble down the hill. He recalled how awkward he felt, but it did not last very long. Sure he fell from time to time, but he was able to get right back up. By the time he was done with his first trip, he could not wait to go back and do it again. After years of skiing, he was pretty good at it. Most things in life were like that. Bolani: Good. Now, broaden your focus to reach out into the corridor. Anyone out there walking by? Do you sense anything? ::T’Mar broadened her focus and was overwhelmed with many emotions belonging to many people in the surrounding quarters. She found it hard to distinguish at first, but she forced herself to focus on the corridor.:: T’Mar: I sense someone.. they are stressed, worried about something. Bolani: Now, very quickly, focus on yourself. What are you feeling right now? ::It was a simple question. She needed to be able to quickly distinguish between the feelings of others and her own. Betazoids had a the gift to project emotions, and the burden of allowing the emotions of others affect them. He was wondering how she would be as she progressed. Vulcans and Betazoids are the polar opposites. He had no idea how someone in her family managed to procreate with a Betazoid. Of all the ways they were incompatible, it was odd and intriguing at the same time.:: ::T’Mar tried to determine how she was feeling, but it went against everything she was taught. She wasn’t supposed to have emotions. Was she worried or was that the person in the corridor?:: T’Mar: I am uncertain how to answer. Why must I sense my own emotions? Should we not be focusing on others’? Bolani: The more you focus the better reception you will get this early in your development. It is also important that you try to switch back to your own emotions, such as they are, as often as possible. This will help prevent you from sharing in the emotions of others. Think of it like being out of your body. The longer you are, the easier it will be to become involved in others. Focusing on yourself is a way to center yourself. ::Most species would be able to do this easily. Because Vulcans suppressed their emotions, it would be harder for her. She would have to embrace her own emotions and it would oddly go against what she did on a daily basis. It would take a toll on her throughout the day. Headaches would come, and she would have bouts of confusion and maybe even dizziness. There was not a lot of information on the Vulcan/Betazoid mix. With each one, it would likely be different. He was very curious how it would work for her.:: ::T’Mar closed her eyes tightly and concentrated on herself, battling against her natural suppression. She had tried to drop that mental wall earlier, but subconsciously she had put it back up.. she put it back up because she had begun to feel emotions for her self.. and that had..:: T’Mar: Fear? ::She did not want to say it. Of all emotions, she always found fear to be the most illogical besides love. It was less that she has sensed it in herself, but more a logical conclusion. It seemed that she did not have much control over when she could sense and feel her own emotions and when they remained suppressed.:: Bolani: Fear of what? ::Zage could imagine what she was going through. It would be like asking Betazoids to stop sensing other feelings, or to only communicate verbally. It went against everything he was brought up to do, but it was necessary. He was surprised it was not done sooner in her life. She was fairly young for a Vulcan. The better handle she had on her abilities to sense other emotions, the better she would be able to suppress hers as well as those sensed, if that is what she chose to do. It was just...logical.:: T’Mar: I believe I am afraid of feeling... ::The room seemed to spin momentarily, but soon returned to normal. She blinked a few times to clear her eyes and her stomach churned a little.: ..of feeling emotions. Bolani: Are you alright? ::The look on her face already answered the question. It was quite a bit for someone to deal with that had not faced their own emotions. Now, he was asking her to face the emotions of others, as well as her own. It was a big step and he wanted to know what she was capable of for their first session. She could stop at any time, they could take it slow...but he wanted to understand how much she would push herself, even more so since she admitted her fear.:: T’Mar: I am fine. oOPerhaps pride is another emotion to add on that list?Oo Bolani: As long as you are certain. I know it is a lot and do not want you overdoing it. ::T’Mar took a deep breath:: T’Mar: I was a little dizzy, but I assure you that I am quite alright now. Please continue. ::The truth was, the only feeling she was certain of, was that she enjoyed Zage’s presence. It made her feel.. happy? No, content. She did not want him to leave.:: Bolani: Very well. Take that fear, and suppress it as you normally would and tell me how I am feeling. ::In that moment, he focused on his final days on the Crawford. It was not a happy point in his career, and when he got word...it did not please him. The more he thought of it, the more he was able to relive those feelings he felt as he left. It was a combination of anger and sadness. He had formed bonds with those he worked with and was not looking forward to leaving.:: ::T'Mar suppressed her emotions and focused in Zage, this time envisioning it as a mind meld without physical contact. She felt...:: T'Mar: Anger. You are angry. ::She wondered what was making him feel enraged, but at the same time felt proud of herself for picking up on the emotion:: Bolani: Very good. ::Fast forwarding to his arrival on the Apollo, he thought of when he got his reassignment orders at the starbase. While he was not excited to leave the Crawford, he accepted it. When he found out he got the Apollo, he was actually excited to serve on the Achilles Class ship. It brought a sense of pride and happiness.:: ::The anger melted away and new sensations overtook her. She was beginning to get the hang of this.:: T'Mar: Joy? Bolani: Good. ::Before he could move on to the next question he continued on his train of thought, remembering the first time he thought he saw the corner of her mouth start to form a smile, and the moment his eyes traced over her features. He quickly realized that she was still focusing on him and his memories were betraying his purpose in her quarters. He found the Vulcan woman attractive, but he was not sure he would ever act on it. She was so different, and even though he was intrigued, they could be described as oil and water. He was curious how her grandparents did it. Even though he liked spending time with her and loved to see her struggle with the emotions of others, his initial instinct was attraction. There was something in her eyes that he had never seen in a Vulcan and it made it easier to forget that in the end...she was.:: ::T’Mar was surprised by how quickly she was able to feel what Zage felt. She could only assume he was projecting the emotions stronger in order to help her along. She continued to focus and soon felt another emotion. She was not certain if it was her feelings or his, but they bombarded her system and she leaned in closer without thinking about it first.:: T'Mar: Attraction... ::she whispered, staring into his eyes. Logic had abandoned her as her abilities went into overdrive.:: ::Zage widened his eyes. He was not trying to project his attraction for her, but she was able to pick up on it. It was a small feeling he had inside, and the Vulcan seemed to identify it quickly. He was not sure what to do next. He could have just played it off as him thinking of an old flame, but when dealing with an empath, it was easy to tell when they were not being honest. He could not think of anything to do but move one. He was worried about how she might take it. There was a lot to be said about the things that were never said. Neither confirming, nor denying he was feeling the attraction toward her, he nervously moved on.:: Bolani: ::nodding:: Yes. And now... ::T'Mar felt her heart pound and her blood rush to her cheeks, probably tinting them green.:: T'Mar: Nervous.. Bolani: I think you are getting pretty good at this. ::Looking into her eyes he paused. There was a look briefly in her eyes and it was one he shared. He realized that while she was learning quite a bit, they hit the ground running. He was winging it instead of planning out the different aspects. It made him nervous and concerned that he was feeling the attraction to her, and working with her empathic abilities at the same time. He felt the urge to drift his lips toward her, but fought it...knowing better. In one swift moment, he broke eye contact with her.:: ::T'Mar suddenly pulled back, her logic taking over. she remained silent, unsure what to say:: Bolani: I uh...I think we had a good lesson. You are actually pretty good at this once you get started. It will be harder for you to suppress your emotions and be able to read others at the same time. T’Mar: Indeed, I am noticing that.. ::T’Mar began focusing on getting her emotions in check. She was not fond of that aspect of these sessions. At the same time, she was not sure what to make of what had just occurred.:: ::Zage quickly stood up from the center of the room. He wanted to stay longer, but he could not afford the prolonged responses of his emotional state. Had she been any other species, he may not have shut down so quickly. He felt helpless, and as if his feelings were futile. He was not sure what he was doing, but he knew it needed to stop, at least until he had time to figure it out.:: Bolani: I think we can call it a night. It is getting late, and I do not want to impose...besides, the more you spend on it at one time, the more it can become blurry. ::smiling at her:: For what it is worth, I think you did a great job. I cannot wait until our next session, we will do it in the mess hall, or the Complex. ::His idea was to take the focus off of his feelings and put it onto someone else. Being an empath, he would be able to tell if her guess was right. That would keep his emotions out of the discussion, and he would try better to mask his attraction for her. It was the best way to help her and try to keep his feelings from her at the same time.:: ::T’Mar blew out the candles and stood, looking at Zage.. not daring to sense his emotions, for fear that she may lose control again. Instead, she nodded at his suggestion, a tiny smile creeping in.:: T’Mar: I look forward to the session as well. You are indeed a talented instructor. Thank you.. ::Moving to the door he turned around and gave her one last smile. He knew that he would need to see her in the morning when he came on duty. He was hoping he would not feel awkward. The last thing he needed was to have his personal feelings spill over to his work, but he knew enough to be able to prevent it from happening.:: Bolani: I will see you in the morning. ::T’Mar watched as he made his way to her door. A part of her wanted him to stay, the other knew it was not logical for many reasons.:: T’Mar: I will expect you to be on time, despite this late session. ::Turning Zage headed out of her quarters and off toward his. The entire trip he dwelled upon his feelings and the thoughts he was having in her quarters. He was not sure why they chose that moment to really surface. He thought that because he was trying to adapt his feelings through memories and at the same time focus on her...he just became over extended. It was a lot to handle on their first lesson, but in the end the benefits were greater than the drawbacks.:: ::And he left. T’Mar suddenly felt so alone in her quarters. She changed into her pajamas, dwelling on the emotions that had surfaced in the session. How was it that she so easily became overwhelmed with attraction? Unless.. she was feeling it too. It only made sense. Except that it didn’t. She was a Vulcan, she shouldn’t be allowing herself to feel anything. She sat on her bed, still deep in thought, wondering what was going through Zage’s mind. As she laid down, she soon became aware that the session had worn her out more than she originally thought. She drifted off into sleep, wondering what their interaction would be like the next day..:: TBC Lieutenant JG T’Mar Chief Security Officer USS Apollo, NCC-71669 & PNPC Lieutenant JG Zage Bolani Security Officer USS Apollo, NCC-71669 as simmed by: Fleet Captain Andrus Jaxx Commanding Officer USS Apollo, NCC-71669 Captains Council Magistrate