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@Alex Brodie has a way of really deepening his character and also giving more depth to a situation. Here we see a blast from the past and a relation to something that involves the planet the Thor is now taking shore leave on - Cardassia. I can't wait to see what happens next. I love this look into Brodie's past! IC: ((Applied Psychology Division, Elysium Research Institute, Mars)) ((Year: 2375)) Alexander Brodie sat watching the feed come in from the Federation News Service; he wasn’t channel hopping for fun though, this was work. FNS Reporter: I’m here with Anders De Brunn, Chief Financial Officer of Teldaris Resources. Mr De Brunn, can you comment on news reports from Ferenginar that Teldaris are being investigated by the Ferengi Commerce Authority over irregularities in commissions paid to agents to operate in the Irtok system? The man raised his mouth to his chin and rubbed his face unconsciously, covering his mouth. De Brunn: I’m glad you asked me that question… Brodie: ::Muttering:: No you’re not… De Brunn: …I can honestly say that there is absolutely no truth in these reports regarding an investigation from the Ferengi Commerce Authority. There were some undisclosed advanced payments to secure the contracts… It was all there. The repeating of the question, the raised shoulder, the change in cadence and lowering of the voice. Alex smiled while shaking his head and made a few notes. Brodie: ::Muttering:: …bribery… De Brunn: We’ve discussed this with the FCA and we’re satisfied that the matter is resolved to everyone’s satisfaction. He turned his wrist slightly, almost pointing at the interviewer to try and make the point and cover the lie again. FNS Reporter: Anders De Brunn, thank you. Now back to our main story, Federation relief efforts cont… The sound went off and Brodie turned around in his chair to see Tommy Morgan leaning near the control console for the audio-visual suite. Morgan was, to all intents and purposes, the business manager for the institute. While they primarily focused on research, they had a commercial arm that could be hired to examine corporate matters and, on occasion, support the court system. His presence meant there’d been a request but, to his credit, he went for small-talk first. Morgan: ::Nodding at the screen:: What do you think? Brodie: I think the Commerce Authority are raiding their offices as we speak. Morgan: Not a surprise really. He’s a business executive, they all lie. Brodie: True…but he is extremely bad at it. Tommy pointed to the screen. Images of the destruction on the Cardassian homeworld from the culmination of the Dominion War had dominated the news for the last two weeks since the peace treaty had been signed Morgan: Hell of a thing, isn’t it? Brodie leaned back in his chair. Brodie: I’m just glad it’s done and the threat is gone…or at least diminished. I still can’t quite shake those images of San Fransico…I’m just glad they left Mars alone. Morgan: For sure…actually…it’s on a similar subject that I’m here actually. There’s a request come in for a project – of world…out of the system actually. That was a cagier and more circumspect than he’d expected from Morgan. Alex regarded him more closely. Brodie: ::Suspiciously:: Why are you sweating? Morgan: It’s warm. Mars is hot…right? It wasn’t, and Tommy knew that. Brodie: ::Still suspicious:: Compared to Breen maybe…tell me, Tommy, exactly how far-slash-long is this trip you had in mind? Morgan: Er…::pointing at the screen::..Cardassia… Brodie: Cardassia! Morgan: …for three months. Broide: Three months! Morgan: Now, Alex, calm down. You see why I was sweating. ::Pause:: Look, the civilian government wants independent observers to make sure that those giving aid aren’t establishing any kind of political foothold…there’s a lot of players in the game. I know we’re Federation citizens but we’re not Starfleet. Broide: Thankfully…three months is a long time to be away though. You know we’re trying to start a family, right? Morgan: Yeah but, Ros isn’t pregnant yet, is she? Brodie glowered at the man. Brodie: Not that it’s any of your business but no – and that’s unlikely to change if I’m not here. Morgan: It’s just a few months… Brodie: On Cardassia! Which was a war zone until about two weeks ago!::Pause:: Why me? Morgan: You know why. You’ve made no secret you’re thinking of moving on when your grant runs out – and I’m not blaming you, far from it. You’re looking to start a family and you’re not tenured so I completely understand the desire for more security. Alex leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. Brodie: But? Morgan: ::Sighing:: But the old man in the wheelchair doesn’t want to see you go – he knows you might but he wants you to know that, if you go without doing this then you’ll not get the reference you need. Brodie took a deep breath through his nose. He shouldn’t shoot the messenger, and he could now see why Tommy was sweating, but he would have his displeasure noted. Brodie: ::Icily:: So it’s blackmail now? Morgan: It’s…a mutually beneficial arrangement. We secure the best services for the job and you secure your future… Brodie: ::Standing:: What was it you were saying about business executives Tommy? Morgan: That’s a little harsh…I wouldn’t lie to you, Alex. Brodie looked the man right in the eye. Brodie: True…but then you know I’d know. He turned and looked at the feed, still playing out in silence… Brodie: I do not care for this, Tommy. Fine…send me the details. ::Grabbing his jacket and leaving the room:: I’m taking an early lunch…possibly a liquid one. TBC ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

@Alex Brodie writes up a lovely summary of our most recent mission but couples it with some thoughts about the Prime Directive. I love how he refers to precedents to make a case for what the Thor did. I found it a nice wrap up to our mission! IC: ((Intelligence Watch Centre, Deck Three, USS Thor)) Broide had occupied the main office in the Intelligence suite. Jehe was on leave so he was taking his rotation although there was less in the way of intelligence briefings and a lot more legal documentation scattered over the desk. This was likely to be a bit of a problematic report for the ship and, while his reports were mostly kept to the medical archives he wanted to make sure he had everything locked in place. He pulled up the draft. --- THR-AWB-COU-MIS-0010 TO: Starfleet Medical Central Records CC: USS Thor Central Records Following a period of shoreleave on Vulcan the USS Thor was initially assigned to conduct a survey of an unusual stellar phenomenon: a pair of hypervelocity stars on nearly identical trajectories. Enroute to the system in question, however, the Thor detected a distress call from a cluster of nearby planetoids. This identification code associated with the signal identified it as being the USS Excalibur. Records show that this vessel was officially listed as lost during the Federation-Klingon War in the mid twenty-third century – well over one-hundred years ago. Under the guidance of Commander Geoffrey Teller this officer, along with Ensign Peri Katsim and Ensign Dar Elandra began reviewing available information regarding the vessel, including its likely course and possible locations. Consideration was also given to General Order One (Prime Directive) regarding potential indigenous populations and the effect that either the Excalibur crew, or their descendants, may have had on their natural evolution. The same also applies to the potential transfer of technology – which seemed likely, given the source of the signal. Given the lack of information available in the records, and the age of the information that was. A decision was made to beam down to the surface as a group, under cultural camouflage protocols and investigate further as well as take scientific samples for further study. Upon arrival on the planets surface, in the margins of a volcanic plateau, samples were collected and some tectonic readings were taken indicating an increase in volcanic activity in the region. Shortly after arrival, however, a series of life signs were detected and the group moved to cover with overwatch being provided by Ensign Dar. The lifeforms in question appeared to be Klingon in origin. These riders were led by an individual known as Betlak and appeared to be a ‘scout party’. This officer conversed with Betlak as the universal translator seemed unable to process the dialect they were using. The situation deteriorated as Betlak was not receptive to diplomatic channels – taking Ensign Per Katsim hostage. This conflict was short lived, however, as a group of mounted troops arrived to disperse the Klingons. These troops, more accurately knights, were from the local city of Calabrum and were led by their Queen – Arta Du Pendragon. This city, it became clear, had been established by the original crew of the Excalibur and maintained by their descendants. This officer, in addition to Commander Teller, Doctor and Quen and Ensign Dar was granted an audience with her Highness. It became clear that it was the queen herself who had made the distress call and that she was being advised by the court ‘wizard’ a man named Velik. It also became clear that the decedents of the Klingons – known locally as ‘Klings’ had been at war with the city of Calabrum for the majority of the previous century. In recent times these Klings had become more organized under the leadership of an individual known only as Modrawt. It was resolved that Ensign Dar and Commander Teller would remain and work with the Knights Calbrum and myself and doctor Quen would accompany the Queen to the local settlement of upto see how the conflict had affected the local population in the nearby settlement of Upton. On arrival it became clear that the local water supply had become contaminated, possibly deliberately, form the volcano leading to chemical burns. A parasitic infection, however, could not be ruled out. Following the realisation that a larger raiding party was headed for Calabrum to place the city under siege a meeting was called between Fleet Captain Aron Kells and Queen Du Pendragon where a plan was put in place to remove the descendants of the Excalibur, at their request. Further, the increased tectonic activity of the volcano now threatened an eruption. While this could not be prevented under General Order One it would provide appropriate cover for the evacuation attempt. This officer was assigned, along with Lieutenant Commander Lia Rouiancet to provide a level of control to the volcanic eruption. This involved the use of a binary explosive mixture that would be detonated in order to collapse a section of the magma chamber. This allowed a portion of the magma to be drained to adjacent chambers to limit the exposure to Calabrum. The detonation was conducted without incident once the explosives had been placed by hand. During this time, the remaining senior staff performed the evacuation. [[Classified: Command Level Only]] Consideration must be given to the Prime Directive. The actions undertaken by the USS Thor during this mission do constitute a violation of the prime directive. In mitigation, however, I submit the below reasonings along with appropriate precedents: The distress call was directed by Velik. Further review of the original crew manifest of the USS Excalibur at the time of its loss would indicate that this is likely to be a Vulcan who was serving as a junior science officer at the time. This would classify as a request for aid from a fellow Starfleet officer and the need to conduct a rescue mission [Precedent: Zeta Gelis Star Cluster, 2366]. In addition, any request for aid [Precedent: Drema VI, 2365] may be considered exemption criteria and the level of aid rendered by the crew of the USS Thor was conducted in such a way that it is believed it would not have impacted the pre-contamination development of the indigenous society [Precedent: Barkon IV, 2370]. This also allowed the correction of alterations to the natural evolution caused by the Klingons [Precedent; Neural, 2268]. It is my understanding that any indigenous people who were caught up in the evacuation are being transferred to Deep Space Thirty-Two for repatriation. The Same is true of the Klingon descendants who have been repatriated to the Klingon Empire already. The descendants of the Excalibur are to be relocated once a suitable world has been identified for them. It is recommended that observation teams are dispatched to both the original extraction planet to monitor any possible disruption. [[End Classified]] [[Personal Notes]] The nature of this mission, regrettably, is somewhat of a pyrrhic victory. While there was the aversion of a significant loss of life, we cannot ignore the fact that a culture has been uprooted from their home world and will take some time to adjust. Further, this culture, through no fault of their own, has been locked in a conflict with the remnants of the Klingon Empire for over a century. I wonder what the Klingons will make of their new wards? I would hope they would welcome them back as fellows but where they may fit into Klingon society after one-hundred years…it will be a difficult adjustment but I hope the Klingons hold true and honour their ancestors. Following the events of this mission several crew changes have occurred including the leave of Doctor Quen Deena and Junior Lieutenant Jeha Saja. I’m pleased to report, however, that Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia will be re-joining the USS Thor on our arrival at Cardassia Prime. Signed Lt. Cmdr. Alexander W. Brodie; Psy.D, Ph.D. Chief Counsellor, USS --- Alex re-read the citations on the legal side of things, just to make sure he had his dates right and then submitted the report. He leaned back in the chair and picked up a PADD - Cardassia Prime....how long had it been? FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

Continuing his tradition of a 'Counselors Perspective' writeup of each mission, Lt. Cmdr. Brodie does another great job summarizing the beats of a complex mission and making it interesting even if you weren't there. I hope the folks at Starfleet Medical appreciate his work as much as we do on the Thor! Great Job Alex! ========================================= ((Intelligence Watch Centre, Deck Three, USS Thor)) Broide had occupied the main office in the Intelligence suite. Jehe was on leave so he was taking his rotation although there was less in the way of intelligence briefings and a lot more legal documentation scattered over the desk. This was likely to be a bit of a problematic report for the ship and, while his reports were mostly kept to the medical archives he wanted to make sure he had everything locked in place. He pulled up the draft. --- THR-AWB-COU-MIS-0010 TO: Starfleet Medical Central Records CC: USS Thor Central Records Following a period of shoreleave on Vulcan the USS Thor was initially assigned to conduct a survey of an unusual stellar phenomenon: a pair of hypervelocity stars on nearly identical trajectories. Enroute to the system in question, however, the Thor detected a distress call from a cluster of nearby planetoids. This identification code associated with the signal identified it as being the USS Excalibur. Records show that this vessel was officially listed as lost during the Federation-Klingon War in the mid twenty-third century – well over one-hundred years ago. Under the guidance of Commander Geoffrey Teller this officer, along with Ensign Peri Katsim and Ensign Dar Elandra began reviewing available information regarding the vessel, including its likely course and possible locations. Consideration was also given to General Order One (Prime Directive) regarding potential indigenous populations and the effect that either the Excalibur crew, or their descendants, may have had on their natural evolution. The same also applies to the potential transfer of technology – which seemed likely, given the source of the signal. Given the lack of information available in the records, and the age of the information that was. A decision was made to beam down to the surface as a group, under cultural camouflage protocols and investigate further as well as take scientific samples for further study. Upon arrival on the planets surface, in the margins of a volcanic plateau, samples were collected and some tectonic readings were taken indicating an increase in volcanic activity in the region. Shortly after arrival, however, a series of life signs were detected and the group moved to cover with overwatch being provided by Ensign Dar. The lifeforms in question appeared to be Klingon in origin. These riders were led by an individual known as Betlak and appeared to be a ‘scout party’. This officer conversed with Betlak as the universal translator seemed unable to process the dialect they were using. The situation deteriorated as Betlak was not receptive to diplomatic channels – taking Ensign Per Katsim hostage. This conflict was short lived, however, as a group of mounted troops arrived to disperse the Klingons. These troops, more accurately knights, were from the local city of Calabrum and were led by their Queen – Arta Du Pendragon. This city, it became clear, had been established by the original crew of the Excalibur and maintained by their descendants. This officer, in addition to Commander Teller, Doctor and Quen and Ensign Dar was granted an audience with her Highness. It became clear that it was the queen herself who had made the distress call and that she was being advised by the court ‘wizard’ a man named Velik. It also became clear that the decedents of the Klingons – known locally as ‘Klings’ had been at war with the city of Calabrum for the majority of the previous century. In recent times these Klings had become more organized under the leadership of an individual known only as Modrawt. It was resolved that Ensign Dar and Commander Teller would remain and work with the Knights Calbrum and myself and doctor Quen would accompany the Queen to the local settlement of upto see how the conflict had affected the local population in the nearby settlement of Upton. On arrival it became clear that the local water supply had become contaminated, possibly deliberately, form the volcano leading to chemical burns. A parasitic infection, however, could not be ruled out. Following the realisation that a larger raiding party was headed for Calabrum to place the city under siege a meeting was called between Fleet Captain Aron Kells and Queen Du Pendragon where a plan was put in place to remove the descendants of the Excalibur, at their request. Further, the increased tectonic activity of the volcano now threatened an eruption. While this could not be prevented under General Order One it would provide appropriate cover for the evacuation attempt. This officer was assigned, along with Lieutenant Commander Lia Rouiancet to provide a level of control to the volcanic eruption. This involved the use of a binary explosive mixture that would be detonated in order to collapse a section of the magma chamber. This allowed a portion of the magma to be drained to adjacent chambers to limit the exposure to Calabrum. The detonation was conducted without incident once the explosives had been placed by hand. During this time, the remaining senior staff performed the evacuation. [[Classified: Command Level Only]] Consideration must be given to the Prime Directive. The actions undertaken by the USS Thor during this mission do constitute a violation of the prime directive. In mitigation, however, I submit the below reasonings along with appropriate precedents: The distress call was directed by Velik. Further review of the original crew manifest of the USS Excalibur at the time of its loss would indicate that this is likely to be a Vulcan who was serving as a junior science officer at the time. This would classify as a request for aid from a fellow Starfleet officer and the need to conduct a rescue mission [Precedent: Zeta Gelis Star Cluster, 2366]. In addition, any request for aid [Precedent: Drema VI, 2365] may be considered exemption criteria and the level of aid rendered by the crew of the USS Thor was conducted in such a way that it is believed it would not have impacted the pre-contamination development of the indigenous society [Precedent: Barkon IV, 2370]. This also allowed the correction of alterations to the natural evolution caused by the Klingons [Precedent; Neural, 2268]. It is my understanding that any indigenous people who were caught up in the evacuation are being transferred to Deep Space Thirty-Two for repatriation. The Same is true of the Klingon descendants who have been repatriated to the Klingon Empire already. The descendants of the Excalibur are to be relocated once a suitable world has been identified for them. It is recommended that observation teams are dispatched to both the original extraction planet to monitor any possible disruption. [[End Classified]] [[Personal Notes]] The nature of this mission, regrettably, is somewhat of a pyrrhic victory. While there was the aversion of a significant loss of life, we cannot ignore the fact that a culture has been uprooted from their home world and will take some time to adjust. Further, this culture, through no fault of their own, has been locked in a conflict with the remnants of the Klingon Empire for over a century. I wonder what the Klingons will make of their new wards? I would hope they would welcome them back as fellows but where they may fit into Klingon society after one-hundred years…it will be a difficult adjustment but I hope the Klingons hold true and honour their ancestors. Following the events of this mission several crew changes have occurred including the leave of Doctor Quen Deena and Junior Lieutenant Jeha Saja. I’m pleased to report, however, that Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia will be re-joining the USS Thor on our arrival at Cardassia Prime. Signed Lt. Cmdr. Alexander W. Brodie; Psy.D, Ph.D. Chief Counsellor, USS --- Alex re-read the citations on the legal side of things, just to make sure he had his dates right and then submitted the report. He leaned back in the chair and picked up a PADD - Cardassia Prime....how long had it been? FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualit...@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

The title alone deserves to be here @Wes Greaves Jokes aside, Wes never disappoints in creating well rounded characters, full of personality and giving us an excellent perspective of what's going on either with his PC or with his amazing PNPCs. Brilliant work. ((Main Shuttlebay, Deck 7, USS Thor)) Rodriguez: Get yours hands outa your damn pockets Cooland and help get those tools moved! Sarah didn't even wait for the reply, she just pasted a deep scowl on her face and placed her hands on her hips. The Marine in question opened his mouth but thought better of it and raced to the corner of the shuttlebay where several tool racks were still standing. Reports from the surface weren't looking good. The Klingon's attack had arrived early and shifted everyone's timetable, including everyone's on the ship. Greaves had set up the work assignments for everyone before he left and Sarah's platoon was split to the four corners of the ship, helping pretty much everywhere. There were advantages to having her Det Commander also be Chief of Security, namely much closer integration for work like this. Sarah wasn't sure if it all had been intentional or if Greaves had just been forced into it due to lack of planning time, but for all intents and purposes, it was working out. A deafening series of metallic clunks and clangs reverberated throughout the shuttlebay and Sarah spun on heR heel to find Lance Corporal Cooland perilously keeping a shelf full of tools from falling over while a fallen wrench bounced along the deck plating. Rodriguez: Cooland! Some of that crap ain't easy to replicate! Get your head on straight! (turning to another group) Crewman Jones! Go help Cooland. The man gave Sarah a sideways glance, not wanting to meet her gaze, and then scurried over to help steady the tool case. Sarah had worked with Starfleet Security off and on throughout her career. Moreso since transferring to the Thor but she'd never been in charge of security personnel before. The dozen Marines and Security personnel in the shuttle bay today were under her direction, however and the woman could tell those in gold weren't exactly thrilled by her leadership style. Sarah mentally shrugged at the thought. She was a Marine, and a Marine leader at that. She wasn't going to change things up just because a few non-Marines weren't used to getting shouted out. The woman glanced at her padd looking for a status update and frowned more severly at the news. Rodriguez: (Loud, clear, command voice) Okay, grunts, listen up. Ops has started bringing aboard some of the civilians from downstairs. It's only a matter of time before some of the Klingons are brought aboard, and THIS PLACE STILL ISN'T READY. She paused and stared down everyone across the bay as her voice echoed against the walls of the nearly empty room. All of the shuttles and fighters had already launched. All that was left to do was move all the tools, carts, and cargo containers so they could use the space to secure the Klingon's. Rodriguez: You've got five minutes to get this all done. FIVE MINUTES. Got me? The Marines in the room muttered out a rushed aye-aye, while most of the security personnel offered nods of acknowledgment before turning back to work. They were running out of time to prep the ship. With a final look at everyone from near the door Sarah grabbed a hovercart and started helping to clear the room. ========================= Staff Sergeant Sarah Rodriguez Marine Platoon Sergeant USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 =========================

The level of technobabble, the fine set of the situation and the ability to be clear about a very complex scene/setting from many points of view of @Sirok always amazes me. Magnificent work. ((USS Thor, Main Engineering)) It had been a grueling few days, even for a Vulcan's physiology. The work for Sirok and all the people under his command had been extensive and had only just begun. On the one hand, the engineers readjusted the life support system in order to extend as much as possible the number of people that the Thor could accommodate. On the other hand, the operations crew, along with the ship's security team, prepared every available space to accommodate as many people as possible. With an added difficulty, a significant number of them would be considered enemies, so they would almost have to be treated as prisoners. To this end, the areas where they would be had been equipped with more force fields and anesthezin prepared to use in their ventilation ducts. Given the number of people to be accommodated, even the shuttles and runaboats were outside the ship to add a few more people to the total and make maximum use of the hangar. Still it would be impossible to accommodate everyone, there were no miracles possible to accommodate 5000 people plus the Klingon army, when the Thor even pushing the limits and using the auxiliary ships could accommodate just under 4000 people. And the Thor already had 745 crew members. Another team of engineers worked with several scientists to set up a system that could help temporarily contain or accelerate the pressure in the tectonic plates and thus regulate the timing of the explosion. Unfortunately, it had to be placed inside the volcano itself, which was tremendously dangerous at the time. They had also worked on designing the plan to remove the wreckage of the Excalibur and the Klingon ship. The Excalibur was apparently in one piece, but to get it out they would have to lower the Thor to a tremendously dangerous altitude for a starship, which is not designed for atmospheric flight and take it out of the planet with the tractor beam. They would also have to configure the tractor beam not only to pull it out but to break it apart in the process,because due to the humidity and being in the planet's atmosphere most of the structure was totally rusted. The Klingon ship, impacted in a more distant area of the planet and was in much worse shape, the good thing is that a couple of runaboats would be enough to remove the wreckage of considerable size. A much larger impact than the Excalibur would explain why the Klingon survivors did not use more advanced technology, simply because they could not recover it. At that time Sirok was in main engineering viewing the data projected by the holographic table that was relatively close to the warp core. On the one hand he had a view of the area of the Calabrum fortress, where he could see the movement of the troops of both armies. But his interest was to control when the transporter enhancers were activated. Without them they could transport people but at a much slower pace due to the problems caused by the ash from the volcano. The screen also noted the position of the Loki, with Commanders Rouiancet and Brodie, who were going to place the device in the volcano. If they succeeded in their mission it would give them more time to do everything else and blow up the volcano when they were done. To review their activity and give more data to the commanders he had tasked Ensign Katsim. Sirok: Ensign, Have you found a safe landing zone for the Loki? The commanders might have good data while they were in the shuttle, but it would not be the same once they started moving forward on foot.. Katsim: response He had left the last piece of the holographic projection to check the tractor beam and the position of the Thor in relation to the Excalibur. It would be the last thing they would have to do once they had transported as many people as possible from Calabrum. Kells: =/\= This is the captain to Sirok and Katsim. =/\= Sirok: =/\= Sirok here, Capitán. =/\= Katsim: =/\= Responses =/\= Kells: =/\= How are the preparations going? Or have you begun beaming refugees aboard? =/\= Sirok: =/\=No, Captain, unless you order otherwise. The ash from the volcano advises against transporting large groups of people, at least until the pattern enhancers are connected. =/\= The engineer checked again the numbers of how many people they could accommodate on the Thor and its auxiliary ships. Sirok: =/\= Captain, I have rechecked and after adjusting the systems we cannot accommodate more than 3205 people, including the crew of the Thor 3243 if we can count on the Loki once she completes her mission. Under no circumstances can we count on the wreckage of the ships on the planet, their condition makes them totally unfit to transport anyone. We have to select who we transport. My recommendation, taking into account the prime directive in the long term, is to transport anyone with non-autochthonous DNA and the others should be randomly selected.=/\= His voice was monotone as always, with the same tone he used to report the status of the ship's plasma conduits. Katsim/Kells: =/\= Responses =/\= Tag/TBC

@Geoffrey Teller 's giving it his all to start Act 3 of our mission and hits all the right notes: humor, epic, references to legends, novels and classic books and a great setting to kick off the final fanfare of our epic/fantasy crossover. Incredible work! ((Outside the city walls, Calabrum)) There was simply no eloquent way to put it. No deft turn of phrase to encapsulate his thoughts. However he turned it over in his head, Geoff Teller's thoughts kept coming back to one thing, and one thing only. His [...] hurt. He'd spent the better part of the last two days in a mad dash around the planets surface, largely traveling by the local equivalent of horseback, and he was miserably saddlesore. It may not have been the most modern means of transportation and the smell was truly appalling but it was far more discreet than the transporters or a shuttle and the crew was already bending the Prime Directive nearly in half to help these people. They were interfering, yes, but with the larger goal of removing mass scale cultural contamination which Starfleet had, however inadvertently, caused. At least, that's what Geoff kept telling himself when he imagined the forthcoming board of inquiry after this mission. Whatever happened there was going to be a lot of paddwork. For now, neither Geoff's sore backside or his forthcoming court martial were really the issue. They were running out of time. Geoff drew his mount to a halt roughly a hundred meters from the next group of refugees they'd try to get into the city, or off to the ruins of the Excalibur. A crashed starship turned ark...Geoff shook his head. At least the court martial would be entertaining. The remainder of his team halted their mounts alongside his and Geoff looked over his small order of knights. Captain Greaves had somehow found for himself a green gambeson suitable for a Marine and wore it and the heavy metal armor with apparent ease. To his right, Ensign Dar was brilliant in crimson, wearing the colors the knights of Calabrum themselves wore. It suited her, much like the armor. Doctor Quen, at least to Geoff's eye, did not appear quite as comfortable in her azure regalia, explicitly set aside specifically for those dedicated to healing or the wizardry of science. Geoff looked down at his own golden tunic and felt an odd pang of sentimentality. For almost half of his career he'd worn gold as an engineer and somehow it felt good to be wearing it again just now. Geoff raised a hand to his group and pointed towards the refugees. Teller: That makes...four hundred twenty seven we've helped move so far and that group looks like it could bring us to an even four fifty. Captain Greaves, Ensign Dar, how're we doing on transport enhancers? Greaves/Dar: Response Teller: Good, but let me know before we're down to the last set. I'd like to keep one in reserve, just in case. Greaves/Dar: Response Geoff chuckled. Teller: When has plan A ever worked for us, Captain Greaves? Greaves: Response Teller: Lt. Quen, how're your medical supplies holding out? Think you've got enough left if these folks have injured? Quen: Response Teller: Alright, use whatever's left. We might have enough time to make a resupply run back to the city but those drums are getting awfully loud and ::Geoff turned his head and shouted in the general direction of the oncoming klingon hoarde:: extremely annoying! The drums were unimpressed. Quen/Dar/Greaves: Response From behind Geoff heard the galloping of an animal approaching and turned to see the Queen herself, resplendent in shining golden armor, mounted on something that looked like a horse wearing half a tree as a sideways hat. Geoff would later learn that this animal is called an elk and that he was not, in fact, born to be a poet. He nodded respectfully as she approached. Teller: Your Highnessness. We were just about to head to that next group. How are the preparations going? Du Pendragon: Response Quen/Dar/Greaves: Response Tags/TBC =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0 --

@Sirok & @Geoffrey Teller have given us the best of them to make a perfect crossover of Star trek and high fantasy, klingons and orcs, so i only can love everything in this JP, from the title to the song. Great job guys! --------------------------------------------------------- ((Gre’thors Latrine, Klingon encampment on the outskirts of Calabrum)) Kaaj came out of the tent of his warboss, whom the pitiful weakling peasants called Modrawt, with a savage smile that was as large as it was toothy.. He had not seen the ancient warrior so excited in years but when he handed him that arrow-shaped trinket, everyone knew their long awaited destiny was finally at hand. Finally they would finish what their fathers and grandfathers had started. Finally they would crush the hated humans and their stone city. Finally they would reclaim their lost honor and rise, as the stories told, to hunt once again among the stars themselves. The camp had two clearly differentiated areas. The Klingon officers had their tents haphazardly arranged on a promontory, although the way they were positioned meant that one protected the other. Like a pack of wolves, the solitary klingons formed groups like this for only two reasons. Mutual protection, or when hunting large and dangerous quarry. Occasionally, laughter and the clash of metal blades or a ringing expletive could be heard. Their peasant levies did not dare approach for fear of becoming a source of brief and painful amusement for the increasingly frenzied warriors. In the lower camp and in perfect orderly ranks were the ramshackle tents of the slave soldiers. There, several Klingon officers shouted training orders with sharp, guttural barks to a huge company of malnourished and terrified peasants. Those that failed to follow orders perfectly were beaten savagely the first time. Those that failed a second time became practice dummies for the spearmen or small snacks for the perpetually voracious wartargs. It was a cruel but effective training technique. It was what had allowed Modrawt to rampage across the country, to gather more resources and equipment, and to finally lay siege to Calabrum. Almost as soon as his scouts reported sighting the city, the great Kri'stak Volcano began to rumble and belch flame. Like a powerful omen from the ancient songs brought to life, the sulfurous fumes and searing heat had lit a fire in the hearts of the warriors. The young Klingon made his way to one of the tents outside the camp, where the beast guards were stationed. Kaaj: Good news, brother. We've made it. We've found the ones mother and father were talking about. Our enemies from the stars. He held out his hand showing the trophy of his defeat, a damaged combadge with the symbol of his ancestral enemy, perhaps the only sweet defeat he would ever have in his life. In his fairly short life, Gron had come to love only two things with great fervor. The rancid taste of stinging Blood Mead sloshing down his gullet was by a wide margin the first. The second were the great wartargs, for whom he had cared all his life. So far the work had added scars to his skin and subtracted years from his life, but Gron didn’t care. The wartargs were the brothers and sisters he headed into battle with and it was his pride that they were nearly uncontrollably vicious. Now the pack was starved, having not been fed for several days so their appetite was at a peak when they reached the battle. Gron looked at the golden amulet, and the shattered mountain belching deadly fire against the backdrop of a reddening sky, and smiled. Gron: Today is a good day….to ride. Gron rattled his trashing stick against the cage bars behind him, eliciting a cacophony of savage yips and snarls. As soon as Kaaj finished, he patted him firmly on the back. Kaaj: That's right old friend, at last a rival worthy of a legend. Behind Gron the targs howled and snarled in apparent agreement. Gron: and a meal worthy of legend... The conversation was interrupted by a rhythmic murmur coming from the rest of the camp. As they left the tent they understood that the murmur was a song, a song sung in unison by the entire camp.Both Klingons saw all the warriors and soldiers looking at their leader's tent, who was at the door and had the bat'leth over his head. Despite hearing everyone singing the voice of their leader stood out above. *Qoy qeylIs puqloD. Qoy puqbe'pu'. yoHbogh matlhbogh je SuvwI' Say'moHchu' may' 'Iw. maSuv manong 'ej maHoHchu'. nI'be' yInmaj 'ach wovqu'. batlh maHeghbej 'ej yo' qIjDaq vavpu'ma' DImuv. pa' reH maSuvtaHqu'. mamevQo'. maSuvtaH. ma'ov. Both warriors joined their voice to the song. Today they would finally secure their places in Sto’vo’kor. Shouted orders and a stampede of running feet brought the army into marching formation soon after. The sky darkened and the ground shook as they began the final journey towards Calabrum...and destiny. [End] ========================== Kaaj of the Klings E239702S10 & Gron of the Klings V239509GT0 ======================= *Hear! Sons of Kahless. Hear! Daughters too. The blood of battle washes clean The Warrior brave and true. We fight, we love, and then we kill. Our lives burn short and bright, Then we die with honor and join our fathers in the Black Fleet where we battle forever, battling on through the Eternal fight. =========================

Awesome job with this one! @Anton Richards! [[Inside the burned-out library, Calabrum, Unknown Planetoid]] Richards: It looks like Christmas has come early. Alieth sighed. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. Alieth: Ensign, what did I say about remarks about elves?? Anton’s impulses already had another joke already loaded into his verbal slingshot, but with his eyes finally reaching normal levels of light reception, he decided against it. Richards: You didn’t tell me there were going to be consequences for my actions! ::Rubbing his head again:: Alieth observed Anton with her typical Vulcan concern. This comforted and concerned Anton both at the same time. He preferred to pretend things like these didn’t happen. Alieth: Are you sure you have no symptoms that could be concerning? I would be interested to check you, what you have done a minute ago… At that moment, voices were heard closer and closer, in the direction in which the children had fled, followed by the guards. They were running out of time. Alieth: Pick up everything you have found useful and that you can hide in your clothes, ensign, and let us go, we cannot be discovered here. Anton shook his head once more, finally starting to feel half-human again. Richards: Yes sir! Anton looked around at the nothing he had found and just began gathering anything that looked like it could be salvageable. These items included, his vendor advertisement, a golden chain with markings Anton didn’t recognize, and a half burnt book titled “How to write explosive endings… in which the last half of the book was lost to the fire. Just before leaving Anton bent down and picked up the feather that had fallen from Alieth, he tucked it away and made a mental note to ask about it later. Alieth had gathered what looked like a collection of tombs before heading towards the exit, Anton shortly joined her, Alieth gathered one last piece of evidence, and they headed to find the rest of their team. [[A few minutes and a lot of wandering later, Fountain at Guilds Square, Calabrum, Unknown Planetoid]] When they finally made it to the guild square, Katsim and De Scheppes were already waiting for them there, as well as a new member of the group, a tiny Coffee Drake sleeping on the scientist's shoulder. Alieth: ::As a greeting, gesturing at the purple creature:: Why do you have that on your shoulder? Anton chuckled childishly, he liked this little drake, he pointed out one finger and curled it playful towards the drake. Richards: Is he friendly? Katsim /De Scheppes: Response The Vulcan's unslanted eyebrows furrowed deeply. Alieth: :Take that back to... "our home" is both highly irregular, and perhaps hazardous, I cannot allow it :: Alieth noticed the look in the two women's faces and, at this stage, she decided to leave the subject for later, focusing on what was most relevant::: What have you found so far? Anything you can tell us about these Guilds? Anton looked over at Alieth with an exaggerated open mouth, and began talking to the drake in a child like tone. Richards: Oh, don’t listen to the mean lady. You're the cutest. He then playful placed his finger on the drakes nose, the drake bit him without hesitation. A faint image of a steaming cup of hot liquid shot into his brain. It was relaxing for a moment… Then he took a step back and felt an itch in his eyebrow. His face twitched and wrinkled, it was like an itch somewhere between his skin and his eye socket. It couldn’t be scratched. Katsim /De Scheppes/ Alieth: Response? Richards: I think I’m fine. I’m just…. Itchy. Anton relentlessly waved his arms around trying to scratch a part of his back in which he apparently could not reach. His eye still twitched with a slight but very annoying discomfort. Katsim /De Scheppes/ Alieth: [[Tags! & TBC]] __________ Ensign Anton Richards Security Officer USS Thor T239802AR1

We.... we need to love @Geoffrey Teller just like this. Don't change ((City of Calabrum, Training Yard.)) McKittrick: Oh, there's time enough for questions later friends! A quick test of mettle. Dar Frowned a little confused. Dar: A match…:: She shot Teller a glance. :: Geoff nodded and the two of them stepped a short distance away from the knights to speak privately. L'ancelot: Look for suitable protective clothing, it's a friendly contest. Jorann's doublet may be useful. Across the courtyard Tomas laughed in apparent delight as Geoff stood ready, thought he wasn't entirely sure for what yet. The other knight had stepped away, searching out something on a nearby equipment rack. McKittrick: The same Jorann whom, though I hold him dear as a brother, has soiled his armor each and every time he has worn it? L'ancelot: I know his hygiene is not the highest in these places, but it's nothing that can't be fixed later with a few cleanings. Tomas strolled off to find the equipment while Geoff scowled. Even with his limited capacity as a diplomat, he knew refusal wasn't really an option. The specifics may have been unique but the idea of getting sized up by the locals through a contest of some sort happened so often it was nearly Starfleet tradition at this point. If Teller was lucky and put on a good enough show of it, he might even get the information he was looking for. From somewhere nearby Tomas called out. McKittrick: Good fortune sir, everything appears to be dry! Teller stepped into the arena and faced off against his opponent without much hesitation. Dar: Commander, Ummm good luck. Dar gave him a look that strongly suggested he was going to need it, and Geoff agreed. This was almost definitely going to hurt. Teller: Ready when you are. His opponent seemed surprised but moved past it quickly. L'ancelot: I was preparing for your companion but if you want it you will have it. McKittrick I think Wong's gambeson will fit Master Teller better, even if it has to be adjusted with some webbing. Don't forget to get him a helmet. Tomas returned and began helping him into a set of equipment that while foul smelling did seem to broadly fit his less than broad torso. It took several minutes but soon Geoff was wearing what felt like an entire plasma manifold worth of metal. Teller rolled his arms, trying to find his range of movement in the cumbersome equipment. He missed his skants immediately. Apparently L'ancelot saw the look on his face and empathised. L'ancelot: with more time we would have found them more suitable equipment, I just hope it is enough. Dar: Oh I’m sure these will do just fine, right Commander? Geoff's pants clanked. Teller: Oh yeah, definitely one of my best ideas yet. McKittrick: Worry not friend, it has been some time since L'ancelot maimed anyone in practice, thou perhaps that means he's due? The young man readjusted his helmet while Teller put on his protective gear. Geoff found the pommel of a sword in his hand and thanked the youth who'd passed it to him before taking a few tentative swings of the heavy blunted blade. L'ancelot: I'm sorry it's cumbersome, Master Teller, but even with no edge or point, a sword like this could easily break a bone. And soon we will need every available hand. Either to get away from that damn volcano or to make our way through the klings and their minions. Dar: Your planning on attacking them? As if in response the training yard rattled a bit, a small tremor running through the ground. Their frequency was increasing noticeably. Tomas looked pained. McKittrick: Simply, We are too few and they...are many. Their peasant levies, conscripted to serve Modrawts will or die, number in the thousands now. To attack directly would be certain death and though none among us fear it, there is no cause to throw away life so casually. Our Queen thought to contact Modrawt and broker some compromise that would stem the bloodshed, but our envoys never returned. Teller listened intently as Tomas laid out more useful tactical information then they had discovered in days until L'ancelot politely cleared his throat. L'ancelot: ready? Geoff wrapped his gloved hands around the pommel and brought it into position with a wobble. He felt off balance, his helmet limited his field of view to a fairly narrow slit, and he was starting to understand why Jorann, whoever they were, peed in this getup. Teller: Yep, ready. As a child of some seven years of age, Geoff had once managed to drag a large round metal refuse canister to the top of a tall hill near his family home. For no particular reason he climbed in, tilted the bin over and rolled down the rocky hillside so fast he blacked out. As an adult he had little memory of why he'd done it or even what had happened afterwards, but he did remember the sound all those rocks made as the stuck the outside of a fast moving metal can tumbling downhill. The ringing of L'ancelot's blade against his helmet, shoulder, chest and somehow helmet again was a perfect replica. Geoff put his sword up in a blind effort to deflect blows and was rewarded with a shock up his arms as L'ancelot deftly knocked the blade aside before ringing his bell a third time. From somewhere far ahead Dar was shouting. Dar: COMMANDER…UMMM BLOCK….GET HIM OFF BALANCE! Geoff considered this nuanced and complex tactical advice while L'ancelot continued raining blows on him with apparent ease. Teller felt like he was moving around on a planet where the gravity was too high and somehow L'ancelot hadn't even broke a sweat yet. He moved around in his armor like it was made of silk. McKittrick: Careful Sir L'ancelot, I think Master Teller intends to let you exhaust yourself! Why else would he allow you to attack unchallenged for so long? Geoff shifted his shoulders at the last second and successfully avoided one of L'ancelot's strikes, but his joy was short lived as the man deftly pivoted and fired another shot into Teller's ribs. Geoff saw an opportunity and wrapped his arm around the sword, trapping it and drawing both men together in close proximity. Geoff panted with exertion as L'ancelot fought to free himself. Teller: Had enough yet? For once, Geoff's low center of gravity gave him the advantage and he pivoted all his weight, sending the armored knight crashing down to the courtyards flagstones with a thunderous ringing of metal. Geoff stepped back and opened his visor, grinning like an absolute idiot. It had been a fluke victory but he'd take it. Geoff reached his hand out to the prone L'ancelot. Teller: Best two out of three? L’ancelot: Response She could feel the excitement inside her growing, her own heartbeat a mile a minute as she moved to follow the Combat that was now breaking out in the arena. McKittrick: By the Stars he's a feisty little imp. It is a rare thing to see L'ancelot grounded so and quite exciting. Tomas watched the man named Teller move and fight with rapt attention. He was clearly untrained and possibly a buffoon, but he fought with surprising bravery and spirit. Great knights had been born of far less. Dar: I think exciting is an understatement…you clearly:: She nodded in L’ancelots direction. :: Get a lot of training it. Tomas nodded gravely, not taking his eyes off the two men as they returned to the ready position. McKittrick: It is our duty to defend the people but we cannot do that if we cannot defend ourselves. As you've seen, monsters prowl these lands. Faith and a strong sword arm are often your best allies. Is it not so for you? Have you not trained in the sword and the spear since you were old enough to lift either? Dar: I can handle long-ranged and short-range melee attacks easily enough, I trained with Kl…:: She paused. :: Killing blows. In the yard Geoff had moved back to the center but he'd kept his sword low for a moment. It had nothing to do with the amount of panting and sweating he was doing inside the armor at the moment. Teller: If you give me a few minutes I can turn the armor plates around and you can bang out all the dents you just made. L’ancelot: Response Teller: Stalling? ::Geoff took a long moment to raise his sword and close his visor.:: Absolutely not. Ready as I've ever been. L’ancelot: Response This time Geoff went on the offensive immediately, swinging the blade down and across where L’ancelot had been a fraction of a second earlier. Geoff looked down in confusion as his blade impacted the cobbles before his helmet rang once again with a particularly hard strike. Geoff turned and raised his blade to block and successfully intercepted the blade before it could find its target. It was as much guesswork and luck, but Geoff was gradually reducing the number of blows his armor absorbed. Dar: WATCH OUT! TURN! Dar's warning carried across the courtyard and Geoff moved without thinking, a whistling blade passing centimeters from the tip of his helmet. Teller: Whoa hey maybe we should try negiogat... Geoff hurried back but L'ancelot pressed his attack relentlessly and eventually, Teller was all but chopped down and left panting like a turtle on its back. Teller: Ungh..ok...I think you got me that time. So do you think we're worth trusting yet, or do you need to knock me around a little more to be sure? Whatever L’ancelot decided Geoff was content to lay on the flagstones and look at the sky for a bit. He hoped the ringing in his ears would fade soon. McKittrick: Perhaps Master Teller is right, L'ancelot, and time is nearly as short as he is. They must know how desperate things are. Dar/L’ancelot: Response Teller: Well, I appreciate that. A surprising amount of my work results in head trauma. You get used to it. Geoff clanked on his own helmet with an armored fist like he was knocking on a door. Dar/L’ancelot: Response Tag/TBC =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0

I was rereading this JP this morning while updating the Thor's mission summary, and man, this is just so elegantly written. I LOVE the sheer amount of lore and build up that is done in this two parter. @Alieth and @Brutus did such and amazing job with developing the kingdom of Calabrum in such few words. The stink of @Geoffrey Teller is all over this thing too. And that ending... I missed it the first time around, but way to tie everything back to the Thor at the end. I consistently stand in awe at the writers around me. Bravo you two.

The mix of humour, action and guiding the scene towards an open cliffhanger-like closure is spectacular. The mix of the Starfleet officer Teller at the end of the scene with Teller being.... well "Teller" at the beginning and the subtle transition from one to the other is magnificent. Spectacular work @Geoffrey Teller! ((Volcanic grotto, planet surface)) Brodie: =/\= They’re going to find her... =/\= Geoff risked a glance and cursed as he ducked back down. Teller: =/\= Dar, draw a bead on the lead rider. Alex, get the one on the right. I've got the one on the left. This goes sideways we lay down fire, get Peri and beam out. Standby. =/\= While a targ as big as a workbee sniffed at Peri like a potential snack the poor Ensign was knocked to her back in surprise. Geoff's hand tightened around the grip of his phaser as the lead Klingon shouted out in something which sounded more recognizably Klingon. Betlak: There are intruders! Brodie: ::Quietly:: Oh hell… Teller: =/\= Everyone stay calm, no sudden movements. Peri, you may want to apologize to the giant targ. It looks grumpy. =/\= Katsim: Uh…um...sorry. Peri scrabbled away from the dripping jaws and flaring nostrils of the beast. For the moment, the rider seemed more amused than alarmed. Geoff wondered if that would be the case if these Klingons discovered they were Starfleet. Geoff offered silent praise for Alex's choice of non-descript mission clothing, it might give them a chance to talk their way out of this. More importantly, it might keep them from becoming targ chow. Betlak: I can’t help but wonder, little worm, what you are doing here. Sent to spy on his? The language was a brutal collision of Klingon and some [...]ized shorthand. Geoff managed to catch about every third word with confidence, but it was enough to get an idea. It seems they'd run across some kind of patrol, or perhaps perimeter guards. The question of what they might be guarding had rocketed to the top of Teller's mind. Teller: =/\= If there's something here worth spying on, we're in the right place. =/\= Katsim: I’m sorry...I don’t...I don’t understand. Betlak: If there is one of so little size, she must not be alone. Spread out and search. The lead rider was clearly losing patience and drew a sturdy but roughhewn looking spear, leveling it at Peri's chest. Geoff nearly gave the order to fire but Peri must've remembered some Academy Klingon. Katsim: jup jIH! jup jIH! Friend! I’m a friend! Everyone present froze as the troop leader evaluated Peri very closely, but he did not move to strike. His expression became suspicious. Betlak: Who are you? Brodie: ::Quietly:: =/\= So they do understand… =/\= Teller: =/\= Keep your head down, remember you're our plan B if this goes badly. =/\= Betlak: We will find your companions. You certainly are not capable of getting here on your own. Geoff shifted himself out of cover and used the totality of his skill in camouflage and stealth to effectively cover less than a meter before he was spotted. As it turned out, even ash covered pale white skin tended to contrast against black volcanic stone. Betlak: As I thought. Grenvor! Stoft! Staring down the suddenly very upset looking Klingon, Geoff decided to shift tactics. Teller: Hi There! Lovely day for a ride in the lava flats, isn't it? Geoff closed the distance to the lead rider voluntarily, walking forward slowly but casually. Behind him he could hear rocks shifting and the bark of other klingon voices. It seemed at least one of his teammates had been uncovered. Geoff made a mental note that all of them were due for a refresher course in Starfleet survival and evasion when this mission was over. Brodie: ::Nodding to the spear:: DaHjaj jay' 'e' DaHar'a'? ((Do you really think that today is a good day to die?)) Geoff sighed to himself slightly, wondering if perhaps the Counselor could've used another notable Klingon expression that didn't summon to mind the image of glorious death. Or quoted some Shakespeare, which some Klingons rather inexplicably loved. Geoff trod as close to the giant targ as he dared and stared up at it's rider and his rather sharp looking spear as if he didn't have a care in the world. As the expression went, bluff big. Teller: Lovely creature, what this big fellas name? Is it Fluffy? Looks like a Fluffy to me. Fluffy snapped at Geoff's hand and very nearly took it off. The Klingon rider roared in laughter. The UT had finally hashed through enough of the updated Klingon dialect to start providing a serviceable, if not perfect, translation. Geoff hoped that was true from the Klingon perspective as well. Teller: It seems my companions and I have gotten lost here and we much appreciate your assistance. Could you point us towards the nearest town or road, we should be on our way? The spearpoint waivered slightly, the rider becoming more and more uncertain of their quarry. Geoff knew Klingon patience would not last and he pressed on with his most sincere expression. Teller: Very fine spear you have there my friend...don't suppose you have any of those for trade? As you can see, my companions and I do not carry weapons like this. Peri, why don't you stand yourself up and come over here, check out the craftsmanship of this fine spear! Fluffy here is very friendly. Geoff felt ever so slightly bad for stretching the truth as the weight of his phaser pressed against his hip, concealed under his ash covered poncho. They still had one other ace in the hole in the form of the still concealed Ensign Dar. Geoff updated his mental note - she could skip the refresher class. At this rate, she'd be the one teaching it. Katsim/Dar: Response Behind him a few meters Alex stepped out of his ineffective concealment with open arms, slowly approaching him and Peri with the juvenile klingon following close behind. To Geoff, the warrior looked jumpy and nervous, as if he'd never experienced anything like this before. Brodie: There…now we can talk. Tell me, who do I have the honour of addressing? The Klingons eyes narrowed, his suspicions deepening. Betlak: Response Brodie: 'ej qaStaHvIS ram, joHwI', batlhlIj. ((Honour to you, and to your house)) He switched things back to normal for the benefit of all. Brodie: I am Alexander…of Clan Brodie. Geoff smiled appreciatively at Brodie's discretion, which reenforced his bluff wonderfully. Teller: And as long as we're making proper introductions I'm Geoff of the Clan Teller. And we're...::Geoff very quickly considered his options::...scholars. Well, he'd said it. Scholars. He could make this work. Maybe. Katsim/Dar: Responses Betlak: Response Brodie: We don't want a conflict, Betlak. Geoff could feel the mood souring. He only hoped Dar was paying attention. Behind his back and out of the Klingons line of sight Geoff fanned his fingers out in a message to Dar and hopefully to Alex. Five. Teller: Indeed, in fact we were just about to head out. We'll just collect our gear and... A thrown spear landed at Teller's feet and dug into the ground several centimeters, a clear warning not to move. Betlak himself dismounted and hit the ground with a pronounced thud. Between the armor and the simply massive bulk of the klingon himself, Geoff suspected about one hundred and fifty kilos of angry were bearing down on him. He curled another finger. Four. Brodie/Katsim/Dar: Responses Betlak closed to within spitting distance, towering over Geoff and flexing heavily armored hands in menacing anticipation. Betlak: Response Three. Teller: Well there's no need for that, I told you - we're simply scholars who got a bit lost! An armored fist clamped around Teller's neck and lifted him bodily into the air. Geoff croaked for breath and curled another finger. Two. Teller:...would...you...have...believed...merchants? One. The burning eyes and deep growl suggested he would not. Geoff curled his last finger and a moment later all hell broke loose. The sound of a phaser piercing the air. Guttural shouts in Klingon. Geoff felt himself tumbling to the ground and rolled to avoid being devoured by a furious but spooked targ. Brodie/Katsim/Dar: Responses Geoff managed to wrestle his phaser out of its holster and rolled to his feet, firing repeatedly to discourage the onrushing targs. The fact that all his shots hit had everything to do with the sheer size of the beasts. Geoff shouted and hoped to be heard over the din. Teller: Fall back to Dar's position, keep laying down covering fire. Brodie/Katsim/Dar: Responses Geoff ducked behind one of the odd hexagonal columns, barely dodging the business end of a whistling blade. Teller: =/\= Teller to Thor, get us out of.... Betlak: Response Something struck Geoff on the back of his head and he staggered, his vision going red and blurry. Shapes became indistinct and he fell to the ground, only capable of dragging himself forward with his arms. He didn't get far before something heavy landed on his back and began pressing down. Geoff could already feel his spine creaking but somehow it seemed far away. Brodie/Katsim/Dar: Responses Under the crushing weight of Betlak's boot Geoff couldn't breath and his already blurry vision darkened to a point of light. As he struggled vainly and slipped into unconsciousness Geoff's last lucid thought was the desperate hope his team had gotten away. Brodie/Katsim/Dar: Responses Tags/End Act 1 for Teller! =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0

Jehe is a pleasure to read and how @Brutus is able to weave his character (with her opinions and ideas) into the plot by taking everything his fellow writers have established is a real delight, and an example of good simming manners. Great job! (( Troop Compartment, Valkyrie 1 )) Up until this point, Jehe Saja had been relatively unaware of the existence of the Valkyrie wing aboard the Thor. Having researched the origins of the ship's name, having the Valkyrie's aboard seemed almost poetic. This appreciation for the religious origins of the did not extend to an appreciation for the somewhat cramped confines of the interior of the small craft. All in all, she decided that she rather prefered a runabout to one of these things, and lamented that they had not been sent out aboard the Ra. She liked the I, having a soft spot for the craft she had delivered to the Thor herself from Deep Space Nine when she'd first come aboard. For now though, that was neither her nor there. Rouiancet: I'm sure you're all wondering what this is about. Jehe: oO Well yes... OOC Saja leaned in, tapping a PADD against her knee as she listened, and tried not to fidget with the second pip on her collar. Quickly, the Commander ran through a mission briefing. Essentially, the Valkyries were supposed to do a brief census of the solar system -- and it was the Valkyries, as opposed to any of the other craft that the Thor carried, just in case they ran into anything that required some extra defenses. A point in favor of the strike craft over runabout, Saja was forced to concede. Rouiancet: So far as we know, there are no warp-capable species in this solar system. But the sheer size of the system -- dozens of planets and planetoids and moons -- means we may be missing something. Henderson: Makes sense ma'am. This is sorta where we shine, giving the Thor a little extra autonomous reach. Singh: Wasn't that your nickname in flight school, Ringo? ::Ishani smirked apologetically:: Sorry Commander. Jehe: I'm fairly certain I don't want to know the context behind that. ::The delivery was deadpan, but sparks of mirth danced in her eyes.:: Rouiancet: I was hoping that you three would have some ideas. (to Jehe) I know we're far out, but is there any information about this system? Even a long-range survey that might give us somewhere to start? Jehe: This place is way out in the back of beyond, as it were. The Jessok system hadn't even been surveyed on long range sensors when the ship we're looking for crash landed. That said, I do have some details we can use for a starting point. ::She wiggled her PADD.:: It's not much to go on but I can have it loaded into Valkyrie's main computer. The Commander nodded but gave nothing away, even as Saja tried to get a read on her reaction. Without comment to her, the other woman turned toward the marines. Rouiancet: You two will have a much better idea of how to search a system of this size than I do. If we have to go back to the very beginning, how should we start? Singh: Won't be a problem Commander. The squadron can go to maximum dispersal to extend our overall sensor coverage - it will take a bit for everyone to get into position but we should be able to conduct a quick and discreet survey of the system. If anything decides to be unfriendly, the formation collapses inwards towards the attacker from all sides. Low risk profile in this situation, Commander. Henderson: Really Snowball? I figured you'd just want to do barrel rolls around the system. Singh: Please ignore Lt. Henderson, Commander. When he was four someone told him he was clever and he never let it go. Henderson: In all seriousness ma'am, I agree. The Valkyrie is a good fighter. Top of the line sensors for small craft. We'll be able to cover a lot of space pretty quickly that way, and if something weird comes up, we can always return to a rally point. Ishani allowed a small grin and nodded. Getting a word in edgewise between these two was going to be a challenge, but Saja didn't mind much. Sometimes it was simply the wisest course available to keep your mouth shut and observe. Singh: We can get you a very detailed survey of the system and as many of the celestial bodies as you need. If you can give us specifics to focus on we'll make them a priority. If not, I'll head back upstairs and relay orders to the rest of the flight. Rouiancet: Unless Lieutenant Jehe has anything more specific, then I'd suggest we start with subspace tech and matter/antimatter reactions. That should be a good start if we're looking for anyone who might be warp-capable. Jehe: Given the sheer number of celestial bodies in this system it's going to be about as easy as baiting a Tyrfox in its own den. On the one hand I'd suggest starting with anything in the habitable zone, but on the other hand, given the right conditions any of the larger bodies could be converted into some sort of outpost so...::She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back. No Intelligence officer liked to be without answers to give.:: I'll upload what I have, and we can run a filter against it I suppose. Where can I sync up? Henderson: There's not much in the way of auxiliary consoles for these ships. They're designed for just a crew of two plus a few troops if needed. . . (pausing in thought) I'm sure we can pipe in all of the sensor controls to that mission planning console though. Singh: If not, I'm happy to make Ringo available to you as a runner. (with a wicked smile) In fact, anything you need, just consider Lt. Henderson here your man. Rouiancet: I appreciate it, if you can spare him. Lt. Jehe leaned over and passed the PADD off to Henderson, after having encrypted all the other files. Jehe: Make sure I get that back. Henderson: Consider it done. (Turning toward the ladder) Come on Snowball, lets get this baby moving! Singh: That's a solid copy, Ringo. Commander. Lieutenant. Enjoy the flight...(with a glance around)...as much as you can. Saja watched them head off, shaking her head a bit, before she felt the mission leader's eyes settling in on her. There was a weight in Rouiancet's gaze that was almost physical, as the Bajoran swept her hair back from in front of her face and leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. Rouiancet: What do you think? For my part, I can't help but wonder how a starship could have crashed all the way out here. Jehe: Given just how far away from the battle fronts of the 2250's this ship is? ::She blew out a puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit.:: None of the likely answers are good. Rouiancet: Response Jehe: Well there's any number of interstellar phenomena that could have done this. ::She started ticking off options on her fingers.:: Graviton Ellipses. Soliton Waves. Wormholes. It'd be a stretch, but they could have stumbled into a transwarp corridor for all we know. Can't rule out abduction by a higher form of intelligent species either. I have plenty of records of such things happening all across Federation history. Rouiancet: Response Jehe: That's fair, ma'am. I don't really expect this to be the work of the so-called Preservers. Though if we find an Obelisk in the system somewhere I reserve the right to freak out. Ma'am. Rouiancet: Response. (Tags & TBC) ========== Lt. (jg) Jehe Saja Intelligence Officer USS Thor T239712JS0

An eloquently written intimate scene between two characters that just survived a near death experience and discovered a little something more along the way. Well done @Wes Greaves & @Alora DeVeau! ============================================ ((Main Sickbay, Deck 9, USS Thor)) It was never completely quiet on a ship. Everything was still, all the people around had left, and she was alone in the darkness. Surgery had been successful, and after a brief stay in ICU, Peri had been moved to a regular biobed for monitoring. In all honesty, she would have preferred her own quarters. Despite the presence of a roommate, the surroundings were more familiar, more comfortable. Those sounds, the ones that crept through the stillness of the night, were more appealing to her there. The deep, steady hum of the ship held an even lower pitch in her quarters, and thrummed a well known lullaby to her every night. The soft breathing of Saja had, over the course of the week they’d been together, already harmonised readily. There, in that bio bed, the almost imperceptible crackle of the privacy field and slightly higher pitched hum were a harsh antithesis to what she was used to. Fatigue had settled in, even though she’d spent at least a day in the clutches of the slumber that had claimed her down on the icy would-be tomb of a planet. There, she had no qualms about meeting her fate, if only the man with her could be spared. Her fervent prayer had been lifted up, the last vestiges of her strength poured into it, her desperate plea to the Prophets. They had answered. That answer had been coupled with her own salvation, a request she had not made specifically, though she had no desire to die. It had just been more important to her that he live. And they had graciously granted his life, and hers. When she had awoken, the soft beeps of the computer, the gentle and somehow not quite monotone voice of Alieth greeting her, she had barely been able to remain conscious to listen to her explain what had occurred and what had to be done to her on the operating table. It hadn’t mattered. Wes was alive. She was alive. Only moments later, she had slipped back into the realm of unconsciousness, her body desperate for rest. For all the technology they had, healing wasn’t instant. Regenerators seemed to do so instantly, healing and closing up minor wounds with ease, but there would always be soreness associated with it. They didn’t actually heal, simply promoted healing by increasing the body’s own natural cellular regeneration. It was still the body working, and the consequences of it could still be felt. So, she slept, her body losing sense of its circadian rhythm and simply listening to its own internal needs. At some point, however, sleep became a ghost, a spirit that wandered, haunting her for a time, only to leave and keep her guessing as to when it might return. In the middle of the night, she found herself wide awake, alone, still exhausted, but unable to crawl back into that healing trance. **** Four days in sickbay. That was the price to pay for the shuttle crash. Who knows how much physical therapy would follow. Who knew how much therapy would follow. Each time Wes closed his eyes he could see the ice peak filling with the screen of the shuttle, powerless to stop it’s collision course. All he could do for now was to lay there in the bed, stare at the ceiling, and contemplate their disaster. He replayed the events over and over in his head. What he’d missed. How the shuttle’s warning systems could have failed. Should he have caught it earlier? Could he have? Was a lapse in judgment the cause of his near death? Of Peri’s? And what had happened to them on the planet together? They both saw the end in sight. He’d never given up the fight for survival but for a time, just before the transporter beam took them away, he didn’t think he’d make it. When he thought Peri was gone, all had seemed lost. The thought scared him. In that moment, he’d been broken in a way that he hadn’t experienced since young adulthood. He was still working through that event, and now his mind was filled with new terrible thoughts. For a time he lay there, disaster replaying over and over in his mind. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. It was late, and the medical staff weren’t paying particularly close attention. He needed to talk to someone. Someone who could understand. He needed to talk to Peri. Cautiously Wes crept from the bed, unhooking a monitor from his arm. His bare feet pressed against the cool metal of the floor and he was thankful the loose fitting medical clothes did not include shoes. He could move much more quietly without the resounding footfalls on deck plating. Carefully the Marine moved around his bed, ducking when nurses looked his way, until he reached Peri’s bed in an adjacent ward. No one was immediately nearby so Wes chanced a whisper. Greaves: Peri, are you awake? She heard him before she saw him, the gentle tap of feet against the floor, the rustle of fabric. Turning her head, the shadowy form was familiar enough that even if she couldn’t see him properly, she knew exactly who it was. A smile attempted to appear, and appear it did, small, but sincere. Katsim: Wes. Her voice was soft, partially from fatigue, partially from the knowledge that though Sickbay was less populous at night, there were still doctors and nurses about. Peri suspected he had set out on his journey without permission, and while she was one to generally follow the rules, the relief at seeing him, to put a visual to the reassurance from the medical personnel that he was just fine, was far too potent for her to protest. Greaves: (Approaching her bedside and smiling) Man, you look awful. Katsim: So do you. He stifled a small laugh, and the pressure on his ribs flared in pain. He’d been hurt worse during the crash than he initially had thought, and the doctors had assured him that healing would take some time. Greaves: (A little more serious) I can’t say how good it is to see you awake Peri. How’re you holding up? For a moment, Peri didn’t answer. What should she say? Go into the gory details of her injuries? The consequences that would linger? How she was exhausted though she’d done nothing but lie there? Staring at him for a moment, she decided not to delve into specific aspects, and really, that wasn’t the question he had asked. Even so, she shied away from giving too much information. Katsim: I’ll survive. That was it. And maybe, for now, that was enough. He nodded, just glad that she was still alive. The moment that she’d passed out on the shuttle Wes had thought she was dead. It was foolish. No one dies like that in real life. A dramatic closing of the eyes was how it worked in the holo-flicks. Still, it had felt like she’d slipped away from him in that moment, and Wes had realized something when he thought she was gone. Slowly he reached out and clutched the woman’s hand in his own. Her skin felt cool and soft. Greaves: I’m sorry Peri. He was apologising, though she couldn’t fathom why. That brow furrowed, the ridges standing out more with the expression and she turned her head a little, as if trying to see him better. Katsim: For what? Greaves: I messed up. I should have spotted the issue with the warp coils before we even left. Katsim: Oh. So he blamed himself. That hurt her more than any of her physical injuries, the idea that he was dealing with guilt in regards to their accident. Peri shook her head slightly, and the hand that he held tightened its hold, hoping somehow to reassure him with more than just words. Even though she knew they would likely fall upon deaf ears, she spoke them anyway. Katsim: It wasn’t your fault. Greaves: (Frustration creeping in his voice) Of course it was. I was the pilot. That shuttle was my responsibility. Katsim: It was an accident. And you weren’t the only one who looked at that shuttle. Likely it was an issue before, one that had somehow slipped under the radar. They had just been the lucky ones to be in it when it had become a bigger problem. He took her hand again, gave it a gentle squeeze and forced a smile in acknowledgement. She believed her own words, but Wes knew better than to fall into that trap. He’d made a mistake somewhere, and it nearly had cost them their lives. That was simply something else he’d have to learn to deal with. Greaves: It doesn’t matter. What happened, happened. I’m still sorry, and you’re just gonna have to accept that (smile softening into something more genuine). Peri didn’t respond right away, but her hand tightened in response to his. Her eyes regarded him, a silence settling between them, words, waiting to be spoken, yet not uttered. Those words ran over and over again in her mind, thoughts returning to those moments where they had clung together, to the words that she’d managed just before she’d passed out from everything. Yet, in that moment, what she wanted to say remained captive and instead she spoke words that had nothing to do with what roiled around inside her. Katsim: You need to let it go. It wasn’t your fault. The man looked into Peri’s eyes for a moment before responding. Greaves: I’m just glad you’re alright. Maybe we stick to the holodeck for our outings? He wasn’t going to let it go. Peri hoped he wouldn’t sit on it and let it fester, wouldn’t let the guilt linger. She sighed softly, then managed a half smile. Katsim: That might be best. Greaves: Good… speaking of which. You feeling up for a springball match tomorrow? (Winking) For a second, Peri couldn’t only stare at him. Springball? Tomorrow? After all that? Peri wasn’t even going to be released for another day or two! Then it dawned on her. A joke. He was always joking, and she was always falling for it. Once more, she relaxed, and the smile that appeared was brighter than the previous. Katsim: I feel like you’d have an unfair advantage. Greaves: Hey! I have to get in the wins where I can! Katsim: Maybe give me a week or two. If not more. Peri had been told the extent of her injuries, and despite the technology that was vastly superior to what they’d had even fifty years ago, her body was going to take time to get over everything that had happened. Greaves: Deal. But only one week. I don’t stand for slackers, and there’s no way I’m gonna let you live down laying around for two whole weeks. Besides, I might not be able to whip you if you get that much rest. Katsim: We could race again if you prefer. Greaves: (Raising hands defensively and taking a step back) Oh no, I’m not falling for that again missy. Let’s make it a light jog and we can relax at the water’s edge after. (Voice softening) I liked that last time. Peri couldn’t help herself. The smile grew a little wider at his insistent joking. He was intent on making her feel better, and she had to admit, his demeanor was uplifting. For a moment, she almost laughed, but her body’s aching reminded her that might not be the best course of action. Still, there was weight that lifted from her shoulders. His presence, his smile, the tease of his voice, they all seem to lighten her mood, lift her spirits. Around his hand, her fingers curled, his warmth soothing and she sighed softly, settling further down into her bed. She didn’t want him to let go, didn’t want him to leave. For a moment, her pain wasn’t quite so acute, could be pushed aside and ignored because all she had to do was concentrate on him and it seemed to simply fade away. Katsim: I liked that too. And there was more that she could show him. While not the real place, it was a replica, a replica of where she had run and visited on Bajor. It had been a sanctuary, a place to rest and get away from what lay behind. To forget the world and simply be. There, she could enjoy the beauty of nature, be at peace with all creation. Only one person had shared that with her. She was gone, but Peri knew that she could share that with him. Suddenly, she wanted to share that with him, to take him there, but they were in no position to do so. Not yet. Katsim: I...like running with you. Greaves: I… She’d caught him off guard and suddenly there was a bump in the road, a hiccup in the peace that had for a brief time had settled between them. An awkwardness developed, and though he still held on to her hand, she could sense his uncertainty. His hesitancy. Had she said too much? Revealed too much? Was it not returned? Peri chided herself. Why would it be? Just because they had lived through a frozen hell didn’t mean anything had changed. His invitation had been given to a friend, nothing more. Peri’s dark eyes settled upon him and silence invaded, a distance seemed to stretch out between them, one that could not be seen but could certainly be felt. Leveling her gaze at him, she pined for that fleeting moment of closeness they’d had just seconds before and she struggled to bring them back there. How would he handle it? What would he do? Katsim: I especially like beating you. Greaves: Oh man, look who’s got the jokester now. The levity had helped, and though Peri’s smile returned, her heart twisted a little in disappointment. She had expected too much. Of course she had. Katsim: You’re rubbing off I guess. Greaves: What can I say? We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. It was bound to happen. (Jokingly) Good thing I invited you to Earth, right? Now we get to spend some real quality time together in sickbay. Katsim: I’m glad you did. Her eyes shifted to the opening that would allow someone to walk in if they so desired, the privacy afforded her easily intruded upon. That was as it was in sickbay, though those who trespassed were simply medical officers doing their duty. Her eyes returned to him and studied the man a little more closely. Wes followed the woman’s gaze as he heard the sound of voices approaching. For a moment, he thought that his escapade had been discovered, but the voices passed without pause. Katsim: What did the doctors say? Greaves: (Nonchalantly) Oh, you heard Alieth. Nothing else new really. I’m gonna be here another day or two for observation, and then light duty with regular treatments for the next couple of weeks. You? For a moment, Peri didn’t answer. Alieth had listed out all the injuries, the procedures, the subsequent consequences and she knew Wes had been there to hear it. Not that she had minded that so much, but that she still hadn’t really taken the time to process it all. Katsim: At least a couple of days beyond that. He winced at the thought. It made sense, Peri had died after all. Still, Wes couldn’t help but feel responsible for what would likely be a very unpleasant stay in sickbay. It darkened his mood again and brought the man’s thoughts back to the crash. Greaves: Look, I know you don’t want to hear it anymore, but I’m so sorry this all happened. It’s just, when I thought you died down there… when I thought you were gone… (trailing off) He paused, not sure of what to say. The Marine had been concussed and probably suffering from blood loss and shock at the time. Still, he remembered the moment clear as day. When Peri’s eyes had closed and her body went limp, when he kissed her goodbye, something inside him broke. Greaves: ... I’m just glad you’re okay. Really glad. Katsim: I’m grateful that you are all right. Her prayer, it had been spoken with all of the will, all of the strength that she’d had left, and she would have said the same, even if she knew the outcome had been different. But it hadn’t been. They had been rescued, they were there, and the conversation waned into stillness. Their eyes met again, and a small smile formed on Wes’s lips. In that moment something unspoken passed between the two. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, or what it meant, but Wes felt the connection. He felt the warmth in that look, the calmness it brought on, and the comfort. Still, they lingered, his hand still furled around hers, their warmth joining together. The silence that fell between them was gentle, filled with unuttered phrases, unspoken words, murmurings kept close to their chests and inside their hearts, perhaps desire present, but afraid to manifest itself. She held his gaze, her dark brown against his lighter blue, shadows of hope whispering behind the coloured windows, but nothing was voice. That silence reigned, but it was pleasant, each one basking in their presence, hesitant to break it, but finally practicality won out in the mind of the marine who hovered at her bedside, her hand still gently clasped in his. Greaves: I really should get back to my bed, before they catch me up and about. Peri almost said no. She almost requested that he stay, that he linger a little longer, maybe even remain until she was safely tucked away into slumber, the last thing seen was his smiling face. But once more, the words shied away from actual speech and she merely nodded. It was Wes who had to break the hold, his hand releasing her own and she let it fall back to her side, the chill of the room stark in comparison to his warmth and she couldn’t help but shiver a little. He cast her one last smile and she returned it with a small one of her own. Though he was not present when Peri finally did return to the realm of slumber, she had, at least, that to ponder upon, the vision of his face and the gentleness of that departing expression carrying her into sleep. ********** ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander Chief of Security & Tactical USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 ========================= & Ensign Katsim Peri Science Officer USS Thor M239008AD0

OOC: I jumped the gun (okay, fine, I miscounted the number of parts they said the jp contained before I posted it) when I posted the other sections, but honestly, perhaps this was as it should be. While this may be the finale, it deserves its own entry. From laughter to tears, this part of the JP moved me both ways. Well done @Alieth, @Saveron, and @Geoffrey Teller. [[Holosuite 3, Deck 5, USS Thor, In orbit over Vulcan]] ((Twenty Minutes Later)) In the holodeck’s version of the Temple at Mount Selaya, the trio stood. Saveron didn’t need the atmospheric location, but perhaps the others did. There was a lot to be said for how ambiance could affect an individual’s thoughts. Reaching out, he placed his long fingers on one side of Commander Teller’s face, slowly shifting his fingertips until he found the strongest synaptic nodes. Satisfied, he repeated the movements on Alieth’s face, until he could feel both of their minds hovering just within reach. Next, she placed her hand on Teller's temple, the fingertips where his synaptic centres were strongest. The other side of his face was occupied by Saveron's slender fingers. Alieth's other hand rested on the vibrating crystal placed on the electronic device. An asymmetrical circle. An origin, a bridge, a guide and a destination. And a soul to be coerced to go around the circuit. Alieth took a deep breath and looked at the two men beside her. Then, she closed her eyes briefly. She lowered her mental barriers and opened herself to mental contact. The other Vulcan's mind resonated in hers as a clarion call. Saveron shone bright and strong. Clear as the first light of morning. Like the birth of a star. Alieth: ~~ Osu ~~ Saveron: ~~ Orensu ~~ He would not normally condescend to call Alieth his student, but in this alone he was the only one with any experience. Their walls came down, hers first, then his, and their minds touched, as intimately as if they were lovers. It seemed as though he saw Alieth clearly for the first time, without the barriers of the physical world. She was a flame; burning bright and slightly angry. Anger could be a powerful driver. Saveron: ~~Ready?~~ She nodded minimally. It was more an intention than a movement in itself. Her dark eyes turned to Teller's green ones. Her fingers flexed lightly at his temper. In the holographic reconstruction of the temple, far away, out of the shady recesses under the columns, there rang a chime. And the shriek of a kestrel. Alieth: Ready Geoff? Teller: ~~I CAN HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS IN MY EYES~~ Alieth: ~~Just the answer I was waiting for~~ She pushed lightly, and the tenuous walls to enter his mind cracked open wide, to that cacophony of an orchestra tuning up before a great fanfare that was the human mind. A confusion of brass and wind and string noises and for some strange reason, a duck. The mind wove strange stories in this dreamscape. Saveron was there to guide Sern’s katra and keep the situation from becoming confused. It was easy to forget one’s goal when memory crowded so close. Alieth: ~~No trips down memory lane this time, we just look for Sern, okay?~~ Teller: ~~That’s fine by me, I still feel like I have sand in my boots from the last time~~ One corner of her mouth, both inside and outside the meld, curled into a tiny smirk. Saveron: ~~Bring to mind, if you can Commander, the sensation you experience when you ‘hear’ Sern’s thoughts.~~ Geoff concentrated, turning his mind's eye to the place where he and Sern would meet. It had always been just out of focus when Geoff had gone there but now the details were clear and sharp, the meld helping to enhance his recall. He could see the sand on the arena floor, stained with dark green blood. This is where Sern had hidden himself away, residing forever in the last moments of his mortal life. As if beginning a journey, Geoff felt himself drawn from one memory to next, and every time they felt a step closer. There was a spark. Something long extinguished coming to life one last time, a flame burning the dregs of its remaining energy in one last bright, ephemeral blaze. The moment that they found Sern he became apparent to Saveron, the only one who did not yet know him. Around them for a moment a combat arena resolved, dust in the air and blood on the sand. What a place to linger; it was as though he didn’t know where else to go. This was why he was here. Silently, Saveron’s mental avatar, clad in a deep desert suit and robes as he tended to appear in the dreamscape, reached out a hand and beckoned Sern to follow him. Outside the meld, Teller’s contraption sprang into life, beginning to detect and analyze a living Vulcan neural pattern entwined with a human’s. Components whirred and hummed, dissecting subquantum data states and rapidly forming a transcription matrix. A few components sparked and shook under the strain. Over and over it spun, burning out whatever existence it had left on an never-ending trail until a summon from Saveron showed it the way, and a gentle nudge led it to the bridge. And Sern crossed him. It was only then that she could feel him. The warm familiarity. The long summers in the shade of the trees of his clan house. Hundreds of anodyne study afternoons, with hardly any words, just each other's company as they each focused on their subjects. The first hovercar race. Her first accident. HIS first crash. An escape to Vulcana Regar with a bet, three Orions, a Nausicaan and four broken ribs. Sern's, of course, not hers. Then, the day he confirmed her the news of his engagement. Her own wedding, not so long after it. And that last goodbye of her fingers on his. These were scenes that were familiar to both, he could see, and re-lived far more times than they had actually been lived. A comfortable place, a clinging to what had been. Gently, Saveron nudged at the pair, politely pushing Sern towards the path he must walk. He couldn’t stay here, not again, not without losing himself. But the pair deserved a certain amount of respect. Saveron knew what it was to hide the pain of a love lost. Before what followed, before the bitter end, and the thievery and the escape and the hidden years, she let him go. And just as quickly as he had moved through her mind, he left it. The last trail, the last faint echo of the familiar psyche swirled over the fingers that touched the crystal. There was a moment of stillness. Alieth pulled her fingers away from the crystal and only three were left behind. Three minds and three bodies, connected as closely as they could be, but not intermingled as Sern had been with them, each their own being, in their own flesh. Beep She opened her eyes and looked at them, her heart trembling for a loss she had foreseen but not overcome, for what she had regained only to be lost again. Beep, Beep There were no words, but there was a sense of warning, a sense of urgency transmitted quickly through shared neural pathways. Beep, Beep, Beep Somewhere between consciousness and whatever the mind meld was, Geoff could perceive a sound on the very edge of his hearing. A bad sound. A sound that meant they had to run. The machine started whirring. Fingers were quickly removed from the other's temples. The whirring grew to an agonised whine, the sound of a dying beast. The sparks became a living fire, the radiation sizzled on their skin, leaving livid greenish-black marks behind. As one person, the remnants of their shared consciousness still fraying between their minds, they all ran.. No sooner had the door closed than the ensuing explosion shook the corridor and lobby, filled them with smoke and, more than likely, left a cracked hatch connecting the holodeck to the adjoining decks. Geoff sagged against the corridor wall as the alert klaxons rang, the throbbing behind his eyes competing with some plasma fire burns on his hands. He’d made one desperate half-blind grab towards the workbench as they’d escaped and he’d paid for it with blisters and reddened skin. Alieth: Are you...? Geoff rubbed his throbbing head and looked within, but found himself properly alone for the first time in months. He certainly felt like himself, for whatever that was worth. Teller: ….ungh...no more...mind melds…. Saveron: That would be advisable. He’d felt, in that moment before the beeping that Teller had forewarned them about, Geoffrey’s mind settled into it’s full and whole space, no longer having to make room for another, even a mild lodger like Sern. He would recover. Her gaze darted around Alieth: Is he…? Geoff extended his burnt hand and gingerly opened his cracked fingers. It may have been a little scorched but he’d managed to get his hand around the ark, and it appeared intact. His palm had been seared with the impressions of several Vulcan characters, but that seemed to be the limit of his injuries. He reverently passed it to Alieth with his remaining strength. Instead of responding, he took his hand and, in her palm, placed the crystal. Faint, subtle, Sern's essence reacted to the touch of her fingertips. Alieth took the container that held her best friend and cuddled him against her chest, then she rested her back against the wall and let herself slide down to the floor plates. Saveron looked away, politely pretending not to notice Alieth’s emotional indulgence. He had felt the strength of her attachment to Sern, in that place behind her emotional shields. She had carried him for years, and they all knew that this would be goodbye. The heavy footfalls of the approaching damage control team could be heard up the corridor, but Geoff found he had little strength and happily accepted their assistance when it was offered. To their questioning glances he simply shrugged. He’d explain this some other time. He was alive. They all were. And they were fine. [[END]] OOC: ma maat katra → The clan owns the katra Fal-tor-pan → Right whereby a katra is transferred from an individual’s mind into another destination T’Sai → Lady Osu→ Sir, used as a form of polite address for a man Orensu→ Student ================================= As simmed by: Commander Saveron First Officer USS Constitution-B R238802S10 & Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0 & Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator /Art Director =================================

OOC: There's a play by play of the most humourous parts over on the Thor quotations thread. However, once you've read the gems out of context, I thought it was only fair to allow people to read them in context. @Alieth, @Saveron, and @Geoffrey Teller have done a superb job of invoking humour and solemnity. Excellent arc with excellent writing. IC: ((Temple of Gol, Mount Selaya, ShirKahr Region, Vulcan)) Their slippers sounded ever so softly on the stone floors, polished smooth by millennia of footsteps, as the two Vulcans walked in a stately, measured manner, side by side, through the Hall of Ancient Thought. Stone faces, far larger than life, were carved to represent the katras that they housed; High Priests and Priestesses of the order of Kolinahru since long before Surak had walked their world, and the name of the order implied something very different. How might those slumbering thoughts view their modern world now? No one asked them. Some ways of the past were best left behind. If only everyone could see that. T’Rel: You stated that you had a request of the Temple? Her voice was even, smooth, completely devoid of emotion. She had purged it from her mind. Once, in a different life, there had been emotion there, even love, for him, and he had held the same for her. But they had parted many years ago now. And both of them had changed. Saveron: Affirmative. I would ask that a Senior Priestess accompany me to the USS Thor to retrieve a katra from a non-Vulcan crewmember. She paused, turned to look at him for a moment, before continuing her sedate walk. T’Rel: Why not bring the crewmember here, to the temple? ::She asked.:: It was the most logical and simple solution. Saveron: Because of the clan Matriarch, T’Sai T’Mihn, whose logic appears to be impaired on the subject of her grandson. ::He said quietly. It was no light accusation.:: She has suppressed her grief, and I know the damage that failing to process such can cause. He glanced across at her. Oh, to have known fourteen years ago what he knew now what he had only learned by undertaking Counsellor training through the multi-species entity that was Starfleet. If he’d understood her grief then, that she’d hidden so well, they might never have parted. But then he would never have left Vulcan. Now she was kolinahru, incapable of grief. She was content, and he must therefore be so also. But there were times when it was challenging. T’Rel: You anticipate that T’Sai T’Mihn would obstruct the process? He nodded curtly. Saveron: If Commander Teller were to set foot on Vulcan, I anticipate that she may instigate a legal claim of ma maat katra. And when I spoke with her, she expressed no regard for his wellbeing. Humans, he had learned, had a pre-Federation legal concept called Habeus Corpus, whereby one might challenge an individual’s imprisonment and obtain their freedom by proving that their incarceration was invalid. There were some parallels with the ancient Vulcan right of a Clan to demand the katra of one of their members from the individual currently holding it. T’Rel: So you would seek to circumvent our legal system by having the Fal-tor-pan performed off-world. ::She observed.:: The Commander’s thin lips pressed together into a thinner line. Saveron: The claim of ma maat katra predates Federation and does not take into account a non-Vulcan bearer of the katra. It assumes the ability of the bearer to relinquish the katra they carry. ::Which a non-telepath couldn’t do without assistance.:: In Commander Teller’s case, it would force him to undergo the Fal-tor-pan against his will. That itself contravenes Federation law. Which made the situation very complex. T’Rel: There are those who hold that traditional Vulcan law stands above Federation law on our homeworld. Saveron: T’Sai T’Mihn is one of them. But then for what purpose did we federate? I say to you as I said to her; the needs of the living outweigh the needs of the dead. There is no logic in destroying this man’s mind for the katra of one already deceased. His people hadn’t always thought that way, and some still didn’t. Vulcan had a long and tumultuous history and the complex culture that went with it. In the days before Surak wars had been fought and people tortured and killed over just such matters, as their literature still detailed. But he was a true adherent of logic, if not the best disciple of mental discipline. He returned the look that his erstwhile bond-mate gave him. She knew his view on traditions that lacked logic in his eyes, but he was less certain of hers. Especially now that she was steeped in Vulcan tradition. T’Rel steepled her fingers and kept walking, but she changed their direction, heading for a small antechamber T’Rel: Regrettably, your understanding of the legal implications is not complete. If T’Sai T’Mihn has already made a legal claim for ownership of the katra, then no registered telepathic practitioner may intervene until that claim is resolved. Saveron considered her words as they passed through the doorway and T’Rel headed for a niche that proved to contain a discrete but very modern computer terminal. The Temple was not as unchanging as many thought. Saveron: That process could occupy cycles, years. Humans have not proven durable to containing a Vulcan katra for so long. T’Rel nodded slowly, dark gaze following a rapid scroll of Vulcan script on the screen, before turning back to him. T’Rel: The legal claim has already been made. Its trajectory is longer if it must be made through Federation channels, and seizure of the individual less likely. But whilst it is unresolved, my colleagues and I cannot assist. Saveron: Then Commander Teller’s welfare is in jeopardy, whether he comes to Vulcan or not. A touch from T’Rel closed the console down again, and it blended in with the more antique decor. T’Rel: Unless one goes to him who is not bound by such law. It applies only to those of us who have trained through the traditional pathways. Again that piercing, dark look. He knew what she referred to. Saveron: They are the only pathways to guaranteed proficiency. ::He objected.:: The situation on the Constitution was made urgent due to synaptic degradation, and we were days from Vulcan even with slipstream. I had no alternative. She knew, because he’d called her; logically, serenely desperate for a way to save two Ensigns who’d placed themselves in a most untenable situation. T’Rel: But you succeeded, where most would not dare to try. Did that make him revolutionary, or foolish? His old research supervisor Professor Ramsey Bakewell had once remarked ‘they said it couldn’t be done, but the damn fool didn’t know it and went ahead and did it anyway’. Far too apt. Saveron: Not entirely. The Human retained a significant influence on his personality, likely permanent, from the Vulcan participant. ::He admitted.:: He… had welcomed her influence, I believe that he envied her confidence. She shrugged eloquently. T’Rel: Then the fault is not yours. He considered her words. Saveron: Having one untrained perform the rite when the ship is in orbit around Vulcan, home to the majority of our telepathic practitioners, appears to lack logic. T’Rel: Yet, as you have observed, you have no alternative. [[Transporter Room 2, Deck 4, USS Thor, On orbit over Vulcan]] There were few occasions when Alieth was strictly punctual. But there were even fewer occasions when the petite Vulcan was early for an appointment. This was one of those infrequent occasions, since the event merited it. After weeks of research, work, plead and rummaging through what seemed like half of Vulcan and a quarter of the Fleet, finally the time that she had been waiting for had arrived. Also, the time she had dreaded. The time to remove Sern from his temporary residence aboard Geoff's brain. Given how long the two had been together and the confusing mix they were in, it was a delicate situation per se. But she, too, had perhaps made it a little more complicated. A few days ago, when her mentor had left for Gol, he had left her one of the crystals that could be used in the ritual. And she had given it to Teller. She bit the inside of her lip slightly and straightened her posture even more, enough to clasp her wrists tighter behind her back. It had seemed like a good idea. The crystals were intended for use with Vulcan minds and given the important part a human was going to play in all this, it made sense that a human (more so! A brilliant engineer trained at Starfleet Academy) could come up with some kind of enhancement, some kind of catalyst to facilitate the ritual. Then, when it was just too late, she had realized that she had given it to Geoffrey John "Good Job Guarantee" Teller. The whole thing could end in disaster. However, she had no time to further torture herself with this, as, at that moment, a form began to materialize in the centre of the transporter. Alieth: Osu Saveron Saveron acknowledged his protégée with a slight bow before he stepped down from the transporter and glancing around, but the only other person in the room was the engineer behind the control panel. Saveron: Alieth. I trust that Commander Teller will be joining us? She offered a small nod. Alieth: I have sent him a message to join us on the holodeck 3. It was a fitting location, as they would be able to recreate the conditions and location that would be best suited to ease the process. Alieth: I expect he has read it and is already there. Saveron: Then he is prepared for the ritual and understands what is involved? Alieth:... Perhaps... She would have preferred to provide a more accurate answer but, given who was involved, it was better than a lie. He gave her a long look from grey eyes, noting her hesitation. But the facts were the same; what would be, would be. Saveron: Then lead on. Without further ado, they both left the room and walked down the many corridors of the Thor in search of uncertainty. [[Holosuite 3, Deck 5, USS Thor, In orbit over Vulcan]] Geoff was uncharacteristically nervous as he headed down towards the holosuite, his grav-sled of equipment humming along merrily while taking up most of the hallway. He’d spent the last several days cooped up in one of the ships engineering labs, emerging only for parts and the occasional “nearly fatal” dose of coffee from the new shop. He’d been working himself ragged ever since Alieth had passed him the rare Vulcan crystal that was somehow part of the upcoming procedure to disentangle Sern from his mind. Likewise, he’d spent days pouring over the tiny bit of information he could find about katras and katrics arcs and the general handling and operation there of, but there simply wasn’t much to work with. For all their intellect and deep adherence to scientific rigor, the Vulcans were still steeped in a kind of mysticism surrounding many aspects of their telepathic gifts. Empirical information was almost nonexistent and most of what he had found was guesswork and worryingly incomplete translations from ancient texts. There was simply no other way to say it. They were winging it. Hard. Geoff smirked in spite of everything, having too often been the source of unconventional ideas and improvised problem solving to shy in the face of it now. That folks were taking that approach to his brain was equal parts unsettling and reassuring. Geoff resumed whistling a tune Alex had sung brilliantly on the holodeck a few days earlier while he considered what little his research had turned up. Everything he had found said what had happened to him shouldn’t have been possible, or that it should’ve killed him within days. The one fairly well documented account he had found was in the fleet archives, surrounding a ships human surgeon who had unexpectedly become a receptacle for the ships Vulcan XO. Over the course of a few weeks the surgeon's personality was slowly overwhelmed as his body broke down, the strain of carrying two people in one brain acting like a deadly poison. In the end, it had been a near thing, and it had required the direct participation of the most revered high priest on Vulcan. Geoff’s resources were somewhat less...robust. He had a troublemaking Doctor, a Commander he’d never met and a medium sized shuttles worth of hastily assembled parts. Geoff wasn’t sure how prepared that actually made him for whatever ordeal lay ahead but was satisfied he was going into harms way as well armed as possible. He was fairly certain he’d been in worse situations than this one but at the moment no graver set of circumstances sprang to mind. As the double doors slid aside and Geoff pushed his sled of rattling equipment to one side, he waved merrily to the two stone faced Vulcan’s staring back at him. He didn’t think he was egregiously late but the deep scowls, identical on both officers faces, said otherwise. Geoff looked down at himself and considered a different possibility. Teller: What, are these the wrong robes? They were in the replicator database. The long flapping Vulcan robes, with a number of glyphs down the front explaining the lineage of Teller’s ‘clan’ and how great logic must be, or so Geoff imagined. The petite doctor used a few precious seconds to stare her executive officer up and down, and then, she frowned even more deeply. Not for the first time in the course of all that trouble, Alieth wondered if it was really worth all the effort to try to save Commander Teller. While certainly Sern would be lost in the process, maybe the galaxy would be better and more organized without him. Pausing for a moment, she glanced sideways at the other Vulcan, more than curious about his reaction. Saveron had never met Teller previously, and he couldn’t resist raising an eyebrow slightly at the man’s attire, and the mound of equipment he’d brought with him. Saveron: Commander Geoffrey Teller, I presume. ::He greeted him.:: I am Commander Saveron, as I do not doubt you can intuit. He’d been told by Alieth that Teller’s mind had seemed remarkably stable for a Human carrying a Vulcan katra. Taking in the man’s attire and accompanying collection of… stuff, Saveron was forced to ponder either Alieth’s perception of him, or his nature before acquiring Sern as a mental companion. Alieth: Commander, I presume you are aware that you are wearing a priestess's regalia. While not unprecedented, it is... rather unorthodox. The words were calm and measured, but the glint in her eyes belied these facts. Teller: Priestess...robes? Phew….now I’m really glad I didn’t wear the hat. Before she could be drawn into a long, convoluted and (admittedly) instructive lecture, the other Vulcan wrapped up the matter tersely. Saveron: Your choice of attire is irrelevant. ::Said the man wearing his standard Starfleet uniform.:: What is the purpose of this equipment? The Fal-tor-pan was traditionally performed using telepathic abilities only. Whilst he would advocate the use of the Thor’s Sickbay, the purpose of this accumulation of engineering parts he could not begin to fathom. Alieth: Given that the commander's telepathic abilities are nil, I considered that some external assistance might be in order. Of course, she refrained from pointing out her own lapse in not taking into account his tendency to get overzealous with mechanical gadgets. Reminding himself that he was dealing with a Human - visits to Vulcan always tended to shift him back towards an earlier, less alien-centric frame of mind - Saveron decided to reserve judgement for now. Teller: Well I can tell you about this thing, or you can tell me what the plan is. Actually, while we’re doing that can you help me unpack this stuff? Geoff nodded to the grav sled. There were a half dozen equipment cases, spools of ODN conduit, several tool boxes and at least one small supply of self sealing stem bolts. Saveron: The 'plan' is to perform the Fal-tor-pan. ::He said, opting for the first option.:: This is the ritual whereby the katra of a deceased individual is removed from the mind of the one carrying it, and placed in a suitable vessel. This can be the mind of another, in rare instances a new body, or a katric ark. The intention is to return Sern’s katra to Alieth who will then take him to his ancestral katric ark, or if necessary utilise a small, temporary ark to house him for his return to Vulcan. As he said the last he glanced at Alieth, silently requesting the crystal ark that he’d entrusted to her. It was a small one, only intended to house a single katra temporarily, for transport home. Saveron normally kept it with him in case of disaster. The woman, who up to that point had been discharging part of the bizarre stack of objects off the sled, halted mid-motion, with what seemed like three kilometres of cable struggling to snake out of her arms. Alieth: Commander Teller has been working with the crystal which is why an educated guess is that it must be here ::pointing with her chin towards the sled:: … Somewhere. Had ever one managed to compose an expression of apology and sheepishness by not moving a single muscle on his face, then Alieth achieved that feat at that moment, as she gazed up at her mentor. On the other side of the sledge, the only human in attendance appeared utterly oblivious to the exchange. Teller: Computer, give me a standard engineers workbench, height 70 cm, with a type nine EPS power feed and a standard ODN interface. Tie the whole thing into the ships power grid and data networks. The holodeck shimmered as Geoff began grabbing equipment cases and shifting them to the floor. The visiting Commander watched, perhaps a little bemused, as Teller began to assemble the… contraption. Was this a nervous displacement activity? Saveron: Commander Teller, the Fal-tor-pan is an ancient rite which does not require additional equipment. What is the purpose of… this? He asked again, gesturing to the pile and beginning to doubt Alieth’s assessment of the man’s mental state. Perhaps she couldn’t see the desert for the sandstorm. Alieth: Osu may be a bit non-standard, but I am sure the idea fits, considering Sern's reluctance to leave Geoffrey John. The older Vulcan turned to look at his mentee. Saveron: Is Sern’s reluctance to leave Commander Teller, or to return to yourself? ::He asked, pointedly.:: Alieth: Both. ::The faintest hint of an expression crossed her face briefly before she specified:: Yet mostly the latter. At the same time, Geoff huffed as he shifted another heavy crate off the sled and onto the workbench. He went to grab another but realized he owed their guest an introduction and an explanation. Teller: Commander Saveron... I’m sorry to come off a bit frantic. I’ve probably had enough coffee in the last two days to keep this ship moving for a week. Geoff Teller. ::Geoff offered his hand:: I really appreciate your assistance in this, and I’d be happy to explain what I’ve cooked up here. Normally Saveron didn’t shake hands except with very special friends, being an active touch telepath. But since he was about to be delving into the man’s mind, he decided that the gesture might help to instill a little confidence, so briefly clasped the other man’s hand. It also gave him a momentary impression of the frenetic activity going on in the other man’s head. Saveron: I would appreciate your explanation. ::He said evenly.:: Teller: Ok, so the crystalline structure of these katric arcs is, frankly, pretty amazing. The refractive lattice allows for the creation of a self-sustaining energy matrix...the katra...and it functions great as a durable long term storage medium. But they’re not perfect. The Katra itself has to be in pretty good shape to begin with to be stable in there, and we know that’s not the case with Sern. So think of this as an...upgrade. Saveron listened with a mixture of interest and mild horror. The traditional Vulcan in him held to the sacred ideal of mental discipline and telepathic primacy, whilst the doctor and scientist in him knew that for something to be real and true in this universe it must be detectable and understandable. All else was religious dogma. He did not hold with religious dogma, but that did not mean that this dissection of his people’s most sacred practices did not make him uncomfortable. It would be something to meditate on later. Geoff took the last of the components off the sled and pushed it to the far corner with a foot. Laying spools of cable out for easy access, he cross connected a subspace field emitter he’d pulled from one of their class five probes to a tunnelling quantum resonator he hoped the science lab wouldn’t miss for a few days. The devices began humming and beeping as he slotted in power connections and began self-diagnostics, still connecting more components to a growing pile. The young Vulcan woman nodded as the human in the room work. Likewise, she stepped away from the device that seemed to grow in size and complexity in the middle of the holodeck, just to avoid disturbing or tampering with whatever it was that was being connected. Alieth: ::Slowly:: So this is a kind of ICU for a katra? A system to keep it stabilized and prevent the degradation of one that is in a compromised state? It was certainly a revolutionary solution. Saveron: Fascinating. Teller: I decided to look at the problem like I would with a computer core - Sern’s a subroutine I want to save, but there’s a lot of data corruption, right? This…::Geoff nodded over::...is a katric data recovery system. As you guide Sern into the ark, it’ll be scanning through my brain, finding all the little bits of him that have gotten tangled up and making sure they get transcribed over to the ark. If it works right, he’ll be back to his old self and better than ever. Saveron didn’t think anyone had looked at the problem in quite this way. Mind you, usually there wasn’t this problem in the first place. One of the components sparked and started smoldering. Geoff swatted at it with the hem of his robe. Teller: That’s fine, just...warming up. Speaking of, there is just a...tiny bit of radiation. Not enough to get worried about, but we should probably get some hyronalin shots later...today. The young woman's eyebrows furrowed slightly and, for a moment, she paused in her efforts to untangle a pile of wire from a shiny thing she could not define as anything other than a "thing" from another.... "thing" that had begun to hum faintly. At least it wasn't on fire. If it wasn't supposed to be. Alieth: would not be preferable to do it… before? Saveron: Logical, certainly. Humans; what would they think of next? Teller: Well the thing is I already turned it on….and the half life of some of these isotopes is pretty short. ::Geoff nodded towards a humming cylinder on the floor:: Just try not to stand too close to that glowing part over there. She didn't feel reassured at all, but she couldn't oppose it either. Alieth: I will accept that, then we radiate ourselves and then...? Teller: Anyway, the ark itself slots into that cradle on the workbench. This’ll all run automatically, but if you hear anything start beep/beep/beep’ing three times we should probably get out of the room. ::Geoff coughed awkwardly:: Quickly. Certainly, all that process made sense in a wacky way. In a way that was bordering on lunacy, yet Alieth had learned, over the course of the last year, that unconventional solutions were sometimes not just the only possible option, but the most logical one, no matter how much she vehemently protested against them. On the other hand, Saveron resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and reminded himself that Commander Teller was understandably extremely nervous, and possibly being pushed by the katra they were trying to retrieve. Saveron: Commander Teller, I appreciate that you are understandably nervous about the procedure, and trusting your mind to an ancient Vulcan rite which, not being a telepath, you cannot fully understand. By the same token, I am sure you would appreciate that I am reluctant to trust my mind to an untested piece of equipment. He gestured to the pile of… stuff. Which was humming, in a slightly worrying way. It was the kind of hum that indicated pent-up energy, just before something exploded. Saveron: However, I appreciate your interest and active participation in this endeavour. The petite doctor glanced first at the tall, pale-eyed Vulcan and then at the not-so-tall ginger human. Somehow a kind of tacit and respectful agreement seemed to have been established between them. Alieth: ::Nodding to herself.::So we have ::she did some quick mental calculations::: ...twelve percent higher success rate. She tilted her head to a side, her expression still mostly controlled, but there was a slight relax in the muscles of her face, a not-at-all-expression somehow more casual. Alieth: It is an improvement... Geoff shrugged and crossed his robe covered arms. Teller: Look, I know how serious this is. This doesn’t work, the odds of me waking up are pretty low, and even if I do…::Geoff shuddered:: I might not be the same person. It’s not something I’ve enjoyed dwelling on. If there’s anything I can do to help, you can bet your ear points I’ll do it. Then, the older Vulcan sighed, ever so slightly. Saveron: Computer, chair. He sat down, bringing himself closer to Geoffrey and Alieth’s heights. Saveron: I understand that much of the recent discussions have been around Sern and his katra, and how to retrieve it. I do not doubt that the importance placed on that by his Clan has had an impact. But, Commander Teller, I want you to understand that that is not why I am here. He spoke, aware that what he was about to say may not go over so well with his mentee. The chair had been created by the holodeck and should’ve been perfectly comfortable, but somehow it was already digging into his back. Teller: You’ve got my undivided attention, Commander. And seeing as how you’ll be wandering around in my brain, I think you can call me Geoff. Saveron: I am here for you. Sern is dead, and as you have observed, his katra partially degraded, likely long before he came into your care. If I can retrieve him then I will, but my focus is the preservation of your mind and mental faculties, and if I have to discard Sern’s katra to preserve your mind, then I will do so. Alieth clenched her jaw but said no word. It was something that she understood could be required, and yet she didn't relish the prospect. For his behalf, Geoff looked to Saveron in surprise and considered raising a protest, but it died on his lips. Teller: I regret to admit I see the logic in your position, Commander. ::Geoff sighed:: It’s what Sern wanted too, and I can’t ignore his wishes in all of this. He never wanted to take me down with him. Still, I want to give the guy a fighting chance. Is there anything else I can do? The woman swallowed her breath and finally found her voice to speak again. Alieth: I would prefer that both could be preserved intact. ::She lowered her head to stare at her hands before continuing:: But in case that is not possible... Geoffrey John's life has priority. Those words stung like salt on an open wound. The need behind them, even more so. Saveron: The only other reassurance that I can offer is this; the Fal-tor-pan is rarely needed on Vulcan, and one High Priestess in a generation might only perform it once in her lifetime. ::When it was utilised for Captain Spock, it had not been used in living memory.:: I have already performed it once, successfully, so am in the unique position of having prior experience. ::Because he hung around with aliens too much.:: What you can do, is trust me. Geoff considered the impassive features of a man he hadn’t met before today, then looked to Alieth, who had brought them all together. Four minds, 3 bodies and an odd collection of technology, drawn from different worlds and vastly different cultures. It was slapdash and desperate and crazy. It was also reassuring, somehow. Teller: I can do that, Commander Saveron. Doc, you got any last minute advice? She took a deep breath and stared at Teller for a while, a moment that thickened rather quickly. When she finally answered, her reply was remarkably specific. Alieth: Give up coffee. Or at least reduce it to less than 250 millilitres a day. Teller: Oh come on, Doc, you can’t be serious. How will that help? A little spark flashed in her eyes. It was a very brief thing, hardly a second, a little more herself there, just as was before all this had happened, before the danger and Sern's silence. Alieth: It will improve your digestion. You may recover part of the parietal cells.::She tilted a head to the side, the glint again in her gaze:: You may even get the amount of sleep stipulated for your age and species. Saveron: She does appear to have your wellbeing in mind… this time. ::He said dryly.:: OK, two on one - and two Vulcan at that - probably wasn’t fair. Geoff smirked and turned his attention to Commander Saveron. Teller: You happen to need a medical officer over there on the Conny? ::Geoff scowled in Alieth’s general troublemaking direction::I think I’ve got one available. Alieth: ::raising an eyebrow:: Really, Geoff... Saveron: In fact our CMO recently went on leave, so we do have a vacancy. She quickly spun around to look at her mentor, the surprise and shock, while not reflected in her features, plain in her attitude. Geoff’s barked out a laugh. For all their claims otherwise, Vulcan’s could have a great sense of humor. Teller: Fine, but I’m putting a pin in this conversation till after we’re done. Alright Doc, Commander. Let's get started. [TBC] OOC: ma maat katra → The clan owns the katra Fal-tor-pan → Right whereby a katra is transferred from an individual’s mind into another destination T’Sai → Lady Osu→ Sir, used as a form of polite address for a man Orensu→ Student ================================= As simmed by: Commander Saveron First Officer USS Constitution-B R238802S10 & Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0 & Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator /Art Director =================================

OOC: Sweet, funny, and well done. IC: ((Vulcan, Kyr, Alem-kov restaurant)) It was an elegant place, the sound of Vulcan lyres filled the atmosphere. The space was softly illuminated with skylights and some candles, giving the place a warm aspect, a place for meditation. Even the diners at the different tables were following this order and seclusion, the forks could hardly be heard impacting with the ceramic of the plates and the conversations formed a very low murmur, almost monastic. Sirok was the first to arrive, he had chosen the venue as per Wes' request, a fancy and elegant place for his new position. He had to use his family name to get a table, and it was one of the few times in his life that he had done so. The Vulcan had dressed appropriately for such a place and wore a light colored tunic with fine, elaborate embroidery. When the next diner arrived, he was greeted by the maître and, without hardly speaking, accompanied to the table right in the middle of one of the skylights. He walked noiselessly, and moved smoothly, never breaking the atmosphere. Sirok: Welcome. :: Sirok said without raising his voice, accompanying the atmosphere of the place. :: Sirok had out done himself Wes thought. The restaurant was certainly a nice place. He’d initially thought of wearing his dress uniform, but now that he was here, the Marine was very happy he hadn’t. You couldn’t escape the warmth of the planet, and the tight fitting uniform would have been stifling. Even the button up shirt, tie, and slacks he wore didn’t provide much help against the heat. Greaves: (Quietly) Sirok, this place is exceptional. I didn’t realize Vulcans appreciated a fine dining experience. I thought you were all grim stoics. (winking) Sirok: We appreciate art in a multitude of forms. Even more so if it can be achieved with a healthy diet. The sound of Vulcan music filled the atmosphere. Greaves: I’d expect nothing less from you… (pause) And I’d expect nothing less than fashionable lateness from our other compatriot. Where the heck is Alieth? Sirok: Her attention to schedules has never been great. And perhaps she wants to honor your culture by making us wait. The Marine laughed and shook his head in mock offense. Greaves: I resent your implication that my people are always late. I mean… we are waiting on a Vulcan right now? He continued to laugh and shake his head as the moment passed and they both watched the patrons of the restaurant. Sirok: Is this your first visit to Vulcan? Greaves: This shore leave is, yeah. Alieth showed us how to sand board a little bit ago, but that’s it. I’ve got to say, it’s everything I was expecting, but still surprising. Before he could answer, the door opened again and, this time, ushered in the petite CMO (and, as of recently, CSO) of the USS Thor. Like her fellow countryman, she was dressed in the traditional clothing of the planet, although the cut was slightly different. More angular, with bolder patterns, mostly in shades of ochre and red. The fabric was sturdier and heavier, made to withstand long wear and still remain comfortable. Although it didn't clash with the luxurious surroundings of the restaurant, it had a slightly disharmonious undertone in it, a slightly peasant, shabby, low-brow feel about it. Alieth: Gentlemen Greaves: Good to see you Alieth. Sirok: Doctor. :: He said it with a small nod of his head. :: She nodded faintly and almost in unison the three of them sat down at the table. A second later in front of them were placed glasses of water, as well as a small tray with a desert flower on it, a token of peace. Alieth: Remember almost a year ago, when we sat down for lunch at the Til'han Embassy? It was almost a day like this, with the sea in the background. ::She pointed to the only human at the table:: You ordered nachos. Sirok: If you want to order some, they may only be able to make replicated ones. Greaves: I recall a certain someone trying exceptionally hard to eat said nachos with chopsticks. Trying and failing pretty miserably if I remember right. A smile almost (almost) curved faintly at one corner of the Vulcan woman's mouth, but it would not, not there, not in that place. Nevertheless, the smile reached her eyes and ignited them with a lively glint. Alieth: :softly: A lot has changed since then... but I appreciate that the three of us are still together. Greaves: Agreed. I don’t know about you two, but I never would have expected us to be where we are now together. Sirok: It was certainly quite improbable. Greaves: The three of us at this table represent every major department on one of starfleet’s finest vessels. That is quite the feat. I’m not usually one for praise, but, to hell with it, we’ve earned it. He lifted his glass of water in a small toast and tipped it slightly toward his friends in salute. The Vulcan woman offered a short nod. They certainly were a motley crew: the nobleman, hidden from public attention for most of his life. The maverick outcast from a small rural town. And, of course, the human who was, well, very humanly human. None of them would have bet on them as a group on their first day, but there they were and, somewhat, time and their differences had shaped a strong bond of friendship between them, rooted in trust in each other and a mixture of teasing and respect. Sirok: At certain moments it has been exhausting, no doubt. But very instructive. Alieth raised her glass as well, so that the glass and the contents caught the dim light of the room, refracting it into a thousand tiny sparks of colour. Alieth: For the lessons of the past, the goals for the future and the road that links one to the other. And for travelling that journey by your side, gentlemen. The memories of the last year came back to Wes one by one. Rescuing Doctor MacKenzie, the lost colony, the slipstream incident, New Bajor, Zet. Each mission had carried with it new experiences. New highs, and new lows. The thing that had failed to change however were the two here with him. In each crisis Wes could be certain these two would be there along for the ride, and pulling more than their own weight. Greaves: It’s been too long since we’ve been able to just sit back and reflect on what we’ve achieved… well it’s been too long for me at least. Sirok: I tend to focus more on what I have yet to learn and do. She took a small sip of her glass. Alieth: Certainly work and personal circumstances have kept us all busy. ::Glancing at the Marine.:: Wesley, I would welcome it if you would stop trying to die, you can drop by the sick bay for a cup of coffee or tea, for instance, there is no need to come in with an open wound every time. Greaves: Excuse me, doctor. I go through great pains to ensure I am only gravely injured when gallantry demands it. The doctor raised an eyebrow, a comment on how she regarded Greaves' statement, as she set the glass down on the table. Alieth: You better be. Despite the words a smile danced in her eyes. One that remained, more subdued out of respect for their shared tradition as she turned to the other occupant of the table. Sirok: And maybe now that we are officially and undoubtedly senior officers, we can prevent half a ship from ending up destroyed at the end of each mission. Alieth: This would be the most appropriate scenario, but given the unexplored areas in which the ship normally operates, I have reasonable doubts about it. Back to the topic at hand, even you have changed osu, from a simple country boy to a reunification champion. Sirok: Perhaps it is too bold to assume that a wedding is the only needed to make me a champion of reunification. It only indicates that at some point I will have to leave Starfleet to make further efforts towards that end. Although I will learn more to achieve that end every day.. It wasn't something Sirok had planned until few days ago, but it was something he thought would be good for a lot of people. Even if it meant giving up part of what he had worked for over the last few years. It was no longer an end in itself but another stage of learning. Greaves: I don’t know about you two, but I knew that Sirok would be the first to settle down. (Smiling) I’ve never met anyone with his charm… (breaking into a snicker) Alieth: I actually thought it might be you, Wesley, given the rumours around the ship. The nonchalant delivery of the statement caught Wes by surprise. Rumors… he was pretty sure that he’d put that issue to bed, but if the CMO had heard mutterings, then he had obviously failed. Still, he tried to play it off. Greaves: Oh? What juicy gossip is going around? Who am I supposedly settling down with? She took another sip of her water, which coincided with the arrival of the food. Like everything else at that meeting, it had been meticulously prepared and what appeared in front of each of them was something within the parameters of their favoured foods. As it should be. Alieth: Oh no, I neither pay special attention to these rumours nor do I expressly seek them out, but nurses speak. ::She made a tiny gesture of exasperation, barely a few minute movements around her slanted brows.:: A lot. And I acquire personal information about my patients despite my best efforts not to do so. Greaves: My, my, doctor, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re downright excited about all the juicy info you must get. Sirok: I think I have heard the same rumors. Engineering is everywhere and they hear a lot of things. Apparently they also like to share them. Obviously this kind of information has to be taken with care. But from your reaction it seems that some of them are not entirely inaccurate. Greaves: Well, I can’t verify the accuracy of any rumors when I haven’t heard them myself. What’re people whispering about me? Ensign Cui from Ops is pretty cute and I’m pretty sure she winked at me last week on Deck 8, but I can assure everyone we are not paramours. The Vulcan woman took a tiny bite of food before speaking, peering down at the human at the table. Alieth: I have heard something about this, but it is said in the sickbay that you are more comfortable with grey than with blue… Sirok: I have heard something about strenuous copulatory sessions that even hurt those involved. Although it was my understanding that this happened more with Klingons than Cardassians, so it is an indication that one should be wary of rumors. The burning sensation of water nearly shooting out of his nose was quite unpleasant as Wes did his best to stifle his surprised laugh. Greaves: See Alieth, Sirok has it right. Don’t put too much stock into every little whisper you hear. For the next few minutes, the small group focused on their meal and conversation was kept at a pause, given the local custom of not talking (or talking sparingly) while consuming nourishment. When that first course was cleared from the table, it was the chief engineer who took the lead in the chat. Sirok: Have you already thought about what you want your future in Starfleet to be? Your own ship, a research center, the academy? Alieth pondered the question for a second. At the time, when she had joined the academy, her only goal was to help, as a physician. Now, with more perspective, she was aware that there was a wider array of positions from which she could help, not only in situations where someone was injured, but in the day-to-day life of the ship's officers. She suppressed a grimace. Besides, given that she now had no Clan to return to and how difficult this situation would be for her family, the time had come to focus on her future and stop looking to the past. Her path took her further away from her home planet than she had ever anticipated when she left that very planet six years ago. Alieth: Given recent events, I have been considering pursuing the command track, first to aspire to a position as an executive officer. If I prove myself capable of it, perhaps commanding a scientific exploration vessel in the future. Wes frowned. It was a tough topic. He’d had the goal of finishing the Academy for so long that once he had finally made it to a ship as an officer, he’d never really set any new goals. There hadn’t been time for it. Now the thought struck him. What next? Greaves: I think I’m getting a little long in the tooth to some day take over a Marine battalion. You can only hike, run, and jump for so long before the old knees just won’t have it anymore, ya know? Alieth: I have scans of your knees, I am well aware. Greaves: A while back I’m not sure I could ever have taken off the green. Now that the skipper has put me in charge of security and tactical, well, my horizons have broadened a little. Still, that’s a ways off and I’m enjoying where we are now. Here. Together. On one of the finest ships in Starfleet. (Raising his glass) To the Thor! She rummaged in her brain until she found the toast she had heard repeated a thousand times in the Great Hall. Alieth: Sköl! The engineer raised his glass without saying a word. Trying not to disturb the atmosphere of seclusion of the place. Greaves: What about you Sirok? You gonna follow in your grandpa’s footsteps? Should I be looking forward to serving with Captain Sirok someday? Sirok: The life of my people is long, I can not say for sure in the long term. :: Although he knew that possibly his would not be as long. :: But for the time being I will continue to learn as chief engineer, I believe that from here I can learn what I need to help later in the unification. But I know that for a while, I will have to stay away from Starfleet. There was no sorrow in his voice, no joy. The same monochord tone. Perhaps someone who knew him very well could discern determination. Alieth: Interesting Greaves: Well, who knows where we’ll all be in another year. Things change, plans diverge, but I hope we’ll all still be around together. The Vulcan took a brief sip from her glass of water, masking a minute smile. Through the window, the sky darkened over Vulcan, a moonless night ablaze with stars. One of them, brighter than the rest, was the USS Thor, the place that had forged them, as officers and as friends. The place that mismatched group of friends had learned to call home. [[END]] OOC: Alem-kov → Halite, a colorless or white mineral found in dried lakebeds in arid climates mined or gathered for use as table salt; rock salt osu → sir, used as a form of polite address for a man As simmed by: ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 & Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10 & Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director =================================

The closing of this scene is a new emotional roller coaster to which we have become accustomed, @Wes Greaves and @Alora DeVeau as Katsim Peri. Using their characters to make a mini mission of their own they have written more than 40k words (I have no facts but no doubts about this number) with a delicious and exciting arc that has made the characters and the relationship between them grow a lot. Good job guys! Here for the next arc of this Now, kiss Capt Wes Greaves - Cruelty of Vulcans ((Hours after the Odin’s rescue, Main Sickbay, Deck 10, USS Thor)) Nothingness slowly resolved into something. A sense of feeling. A sense of awareness. The feel of a shifting air on his cheek. A dull aching pain deep within his body, dulled by medication. His ears became aware of a faint beeping sound not far off. Then he heard soft footsteps approach, and then recede. His head swam, trying to process it all. How long had he been asleep. Where was he? Slowly, Wes Greave's eyes fluttered open. The stark contrast between the lights overhead and the darkness of unconsciousness made him squint his eyes. Ever so gently he turned his head to the side. Alieth sat a few feet away. Dark red surgical scrubs were soaked in sweat… and other dark splotches spoke to the work she'd recently finished. His throat was dry, and as he attempted to speak his voice was weak and raspy. Greaves: Alieth… where… where am I? Alieth: In the sickbay my friend, you held out for seven hours before Quen could take care of you. He turned his head back to the front. Laying flat on his back in the bed, his view consisted of only the ceiling and the lights overhead. Each passing minute made the light seem less harsh as his eyes adjusted. Greaves: (Weakly smiling) Well, seems like I made it doc. I'm sure I'll be up and about any moment now, yeah? Alieth rubbed her eyes, and looked at her friend. Pale and with dark circles around his eyes. Bruises that they hadn't bothered to remove, not for the moment, on practically half of the exposed skin of his body. Alieth: Before that, I want you to understand how you had been doing. You had plasma burns over 36% of your body, a broken arm in three places and seven broken ribs. I had to reconstruct four vertebrae and despite EXTENSIVE use of the osteoregenerator, you have a good handful of medical supplies inside your body to keep everything in place for a few weeks. I would kick you to the gator deck right now if I did not already know that you were going to ruin my work there, but at this moment I do not even want to look at you. He turned his head back to look at his friend. Rattling off his injuries gave Wes a new appreciation for how bad it had been. He was lucky to be alive. Or rather, he was alive due to the exceptional skill of the medical staff. Luck really only played a small part. When he finally met Alieth's eyes she gave him THE STARE. One that, however, wasn't as caustic as it used to be since there was a noticeable concern in her dark eyes, one she couldn't suppress in spite of her self-control. It had taken a year, but Wes finally could see past her façade more often than not. She was angry, but she was worried about him. The thought sent a chill through his heart and a shudder down his spine. Greaves: So… I take it I won't be up and about any time soon. Alieth: Unfortunately, that concussion you had was a bad one, and I want to keep you under observation. Nauseous? Greaves: No, not right now. Alieth: Well, if it changes, let me know. Now, follow the light. His mind was still foggy, and Wes hoped it was due to the drugs in his system and not some lasting injury. Through the fog however broke a single powerful thought. Something that had driven him on that icy rock. A single word that had given him the strength and focus to stay alive until the Thor could save them. Peri. Greaves: Wait, Doc, before we start… She extracted a small torch from the trolley where the tea was cooling and moved it from right to left, up and down in front of his eyes. Despite his protests, she did not speak until she was satisfied with the test. Alieth: Okay, now you can inquire Dread filled his chest, preparing to ask the question. He almost didn't want the answer. The unknown was more comforting that the possible. Still, he needed to know. Greaves: What about Peri? Alieth: She died, Wes. The dread popped like a balloon and the man physically recoiled in the bed. Immediately tears sprang to his eyes but he fought them back as best he could, blinking several times. A battle of sorrow and anger began roiling within his mind and threatened to overwhelm him. Greaves: No, Alieth, she can't… she can't be.. He couldn't bring himself to say it. He tried so hard. Driven so hard. He'd stretched himself past where he ever thought he could have. Fighting through some of the worst pain and exhaustion of his life to keep Peri alive. To save them both. To save her. Her final words echoed in his mind as a tear escaped the corner of his eye and slid silently down his cheek. Alieth: She was dead for seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds before we were able to restore her heart rate. A faint groaning sound rang out from the next biobed. Alieth allowed herself a smile, tiny and bright, before she hid it behind her tea cup and took a short sip. Alieth: Mister Greaves, welcome Miss Katsim to the world of the living. And be grateful to the Prophets and her Cardassian heritage. For a moment he had nothing to say. The weight of the reveal was so shocking, so utterly foreign to the rage and sorrow fighting in his mind, he simply had no reaction. Wes didn't know what or how to feel. Finally, a shocked laugh broke his silence. A laugh that sounded out of place, but felt so right. A laugh that contained within it shock, joy, and life. From his bed he couldn't see Peri, even when he craned his neck to try. Still, he called out to his friend. Greaves: Peri? Katsim: Response Greaves: It's… It's good to hear your voice. Katsim: Response Alieth: Response Greaves: Are we going to have any lasting injuries? Alieth: Response Katsim: Response Greaves: I understand. (smiling wider) No more shuttle rides for a little while then. Alieth/Katsim: Response Greaves: Now that you mention it, I really could use a nap. You'll never believe this doc, but I feel like I got hit by a freight train. [[End Scene for Greaves]] ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 =========================

@Alieth and @Alex Brodie are such great writers, and here we get to see a Vulcan who finds herself in need of counseling. A rare insight into the Vulcan mind, and Brodie's masterful handling of the situation. [[Hammer’s Bowling Alley, Deck Five, USS Thor]] It was a quiet night, Alex stepped up to the doors and typed in the key-code. Darren had been good enough to loan him the access codes and the facility for the night. He stepped through the doors and activated the lights. They thrummed into life and he moved behind the small hospitality area and switched on the replicator. Brodie: Coffee, milk, no sugar. The cup materialised in the small alcove and he removed it, taking a long gulp. He wandered towards the lanes and took a ball from the rack. He stepped back, lined up his body and sent the ball flying down the lacquered surface. It crashed straight through the middle of the pack and left the seven and ten pins standing. An impossible split. He moved to pick a second ball but turned as the door hissed open behind him - his appointment had arrived. He’d suggested the venue for a couple of reasons. They were familiar with the medical deck, it was a work environment, difficult to relax. This was out of the way, especially at this time of night. It also had couches. Brodie: Ah, Doctor, please come in. The young Vulcan woman lingered for a moment in the doorway, surveying the unfamiliar place. She was aware of the existence of the site, of course, as she had had to treat more than one sprained ankle or finger produced there and. As a result, she had read about this peculiar Earth pastime. Like so many of the other leisure activities humans enjoyed, it was just a basic geometry application. As it lacked the additional challenge of an adversary's aleatory influence over the activity (as did, for example, other forms of entertainment such as billiards), she had immediately shelved it as a toddler's activity. So, after that brief inspection, she beelined to where the counsellor was standing. Alieth: You have chosen a rather... interesting place for this particular appointment, Doctor Brodie.... Brodie: A little unconventional perhaps, but we won’t be disturbed. Should people see us in conference on deck ten they might think it’s a conversation they can interrupt. Can I get you a refreshment? Alieth: Vulcan Tea, Saros of Chi-Ree Blend, number 10004 The beverage quickly appeared in the replicator's niche, housed in an antique earthenware cup, glazed in an uneven graphite grey. The moment it appeared, the subtle, bittersweet aroma of his father's latest project filled her nostrils, bringing back memories of their farewell. In spite of herself, her heart shrank slightly in the lower part of her ribcage. Nevertheless she took the cup, cradled it in her hands for a moment and took a small sip. Precisely the flavour she remembered. Predictably, Saros was exceptionally meticulous when it came to translating his creations into replicator code. And he had supplied her with the work of the last six years, which she had, of course, diligently integrated into the Thor's computer memory. Alieth: As we discussed, I have set up this meeting in accordance with regulation twenty-nine point 3 stroke C which dictates that all personnel are required to undergo at least one psychological check-up annually during their service aboard a starship on an active mission. Alex took a seat on the couch opposite the Vulcan physician and leaned back. Brodie: Perfectly correct. That said, we could have done this at any time - rather than eat into shore leave on your home world. Alieth: Indeed, the visit to the Home Planet has had some influence on this decision. Brodie: I see...this would be your first time back on Vulcan since the academy? Brodie wasn’t sure when Alieth had last been on her homeworld but certainly not since she had come aboard the Thor. In that time she had been promoted to rank of lieutenant and the position of chief medical officer. That didn’t include the contents of the missions she’d been part of - including the contact with Kalib and the entities in quantum space. Whoever had left Vulcan to join Starfleet it was fair to say that, no matter how stoic they were, these things changed you. She nodded slightly, as she let the tea warm her hands. Alieth: This is the first time I have made a visit to the homeworld since over six years ago, indeed. Brodie: And how has that made you feel, being back home? The response was immediate and direct. Alieth: The suggestion that a return to my native planet elicits an emotional response is arrogant and fallacious :: raising an slanted eyebrow:: and most decidedly human. It was a human suggestion...he took a moment to rephrase. Brodie: Perhaps not an emotional response but a lot can change in that time. It would be understandable if you’d needed a little time to readjust. She took some time to answer this re-elaboration of the query. Just long enough that the tea lost some of its temperature and as she took a sip, the flavour of the mixture would have changed marginally, as the herbal blend shifted the more intense flavours in favour of more subtle ones. Alieth: Saros of Chi-ree used to say that nothing changes too much on Vulcan. While there is truth in those words, I have nevertheless found that it does not quite fit reality. She made a brief pause and tooe another tiny ship of her tea:: Such a dichotomy between invariability and change has been an interesting thing to witness. Brodie: There was a philosopher in ancient Greece, Hera[...]us, who proffered that "The only thing that is constant is change”. I’ve always rather agreed with that. I can’t say I am familiar with Saros, is he widely known on Vulcan? Alieth: Saros is indeed not a widely recognised philosopher, but he is certainly a wise man. And a master of tea making. Brodie: It sounds like you’ve studied his teachings in person. Alieth: Indeed, he is my father after all. There it was. “In accordance with regulation twenty-nine point 3 stroke C”, ”the visit to the Home Planet has had some influence on this decision” and “a return to my native planet elicits an emotional response is arrogant and fallacious”. He did wonder if perhaps the doctor did protest too much? Vulcan’s were, in some ways, quite emotional about emotion. Perhaps it was an unfamiliarity...perhaps even a fear of slipping back into a more aggressive primal society. He’d seen examples of pre-Surak at the museum - was every Vulcan doing their part to avoid a return? Still, the only Vulcan that mattered right now was the one sitting one the couch opposite - focusing on her tea. Brodie: I...get the feeling we’re in the general area of why you wanted to see me. She suppressed a tiny sigh, her diversion from the first question had been just too short-lived. Alieth: Roughly. He knew he was unlikely to have an emotional breakthrough...and he wasn’t sure what the outcome might be. He decided to try a more practical...more logical and direct...a more Vulcan approach. He leaned forwards slightly. Brodie: Do you know what the role of counsellor is, Alieth? She didn't have to rack her brain too much to find the textbook definition she considered most relevant. Alieth: Check and verify the stability of the crew to ensure that they are able to continue with the activities to which they are dedicated on board the vessel and to prevent conflicts or unresolved situations from escalating in a way that could be deemed hazardous to the personnel concerned. Brodie: All true. Ultimately, however, the job is to help people resolve things. Sometimes that is spiritual aid, sometimes psychological care...other times...more practical solutions. So...tell me...what is it that you are struggling to resolve? Alieth: Due to certain decisions in my past and by heritage, I am widely regarded as a maverick among my clan and my own bloodline. Nevertheless, due to a series of recent events, the assistance of the clan and a number of other acquaintances on Vulcan is not only necessary, but also vital, not for me, but to people I have in high regard. She tilted her head slightly, and rolled the steaming mug between her hands. A stray thought told her she should have replicated coffee instead of tea, but she dismissed it as soon as it appeared. Alieth: However, all prospects suggest that I will face a number of conflicting situations that may hinder the process, which is... not desirable. Alex regarded the Vulcan...he’d never really considered her a ‘maverick.’ Perhaps slightly more outgoing by Vulcan standards but stoicism was a spectrum. What did occur to him, however, was that she may also consider herself to be a maverick...which was a very different style. Once more, he opted for the direct approach. He became aware that he was rubbing his shoulder slightly...his own scars of reckless behaviour in the eyes of some. Brodie: Do you consider yourself a ‘maverick’? The young Vulcan blinked a couple of times in a conspicuous fashion as she sipped her tea. Immediately after, she placed her cup on the table and made a particularly controlled answer. Alieth: I deem the answer is obvious, Counselor. I am She tilted her head and folded her hands in her lap. Alieth: Is it relevant, Commander? Brodie: It’s not my place to judge...although I do seem to recall you were awarded a Silver Star for gallantry - some could argue that is a form of maverick behavior? Alex watched her reaction closely. The Vulcan's brows furrowed and she tilted her head slightly to a side. She remembered why she had been bestowed that award, it had been during what had come to be called "The Hammerfall Event". She had been involved in rescuing Kalib, which had allowed her to discover the creatures that were threatening the ship. However, she hadn't acted impulsively, but had been driven by her inclination to help others. That was, after all, why she had chosen to pursue a career in medicine. Of course, she kept much of that reflection to herself. Alieth: I disagree, sir. I was only fulfilling my duty. The corners of Alieth's lips tightened slightly as she answered. If she had come out of the whole event alive (or sane) it was only because Geoffrey John had broken her meld with Kalib, ignoring the one and only warning she had given him: that he should not inoculate her with Leroxin, a chemical that affected those who carried an extra katra. The results had led to the situation she was currently handling between the starship and the surface, while she awaited the arrival of her mentor. The memory of this and the more than likely prospect that both the Commander and Sern would get lost if she failed to take appropriate action made her eyes darken in concern. On her lap, her fingers twitched briefly as Brodie kept talking. Brodie: You also helped save a young boy and the crew of this ship through your actions. But…::He placed his cup down::...to circle back to your earlier comment. You’re facing a situation that you feel is vital to people you hold in high regard? She nodded slightly and then picked up her own cup to take a small sip in order to gather her thoughts. The tea had turned lukewarm and sour. Alieth: I have let a misguided situation linger on for too long, and now the lives of an officer and the existence of my most cherished friend are in jeopardy. That didn’t sound like Alieth...the woman he knew was decisive, logical, focused. This woman was emotional - and he wondered if that scared her more than anything? Brodie: It sounds like you already have a course of action in mind? She swirled the bitter liquid in her cup, but did not drink it, as the shallow tension reappeared on the sides of her mouth and on her brow. Alieth: On the other hand, the actions I need to take :: She reworded the statement to fit more closely to reality :: The actions I already have taken may put my personal status on Vulcan in a precarious situation, which could render me as an outcast in my birthplace and could affect my parents and siblings negatively. That sounded more like her...thinking of others, not herself. The twitches in her face, the fear - perhaps even a little anger. They were all accentuated by the light from the bowling lanes and the warm spot-lights above them. Sometimes less clinical was more effective. Brodie: And this situation is... Alieth: The situation concerns the katra of the Sern of S'th'gee Clan... and with the First Officer of this vessel. And there it was, Teller had said as much himself when he had been aboard the John Paul Jones: “there’s just too much in here”. Brodie didn’t know much about Vulcan spirituality but he had touched on them during his studies at the academy. Katra’s were the essence of the Vulcan mind and, perhaps more than that, were - to all intents and purposes - the soul of a Vulcan. That’s what Alieth was also facing, as far as he could see, a struggle with her very essence as a Vulcan. He’d kept a respectable distance from both Alieth and Geoff regarding the matter...so far...but now both needed some professional...problem solving. Brodie: The precarious nature of this situation…regarding your family...is that related to the fact the transfer occurred….or, to use your words, the steps you have already taken in, I assume, trying to rectify the situation? This time, she took more time to answer. Time she spent drinking the bitter, tepid tea from her cup to the dregs. Alieth: It concerns the original situation that led to this whole affair, in my time before Starfleet, as well as my refusal to comply with certain conditions that have been imposed upon me in order to resolve this problem in accordance with the requirements of the Clan. Brodie: And what have they entailed? She looked him straight in the eye, her face carefully stern and devoid of emotion. Alieth: Split the Commander's mind in such a devastating way that the chance that he would either be killed or rendered mentally impaired is above 72.6%. Alex’s eyes widened. That was not a comforting number in any way, shape, or form. The extreme risk only had one silver lining - if they could formulate an alternate plan it was unlikely to have any more detrimental effect. It was not a happy thought. Brodie: Yeah...no. We’re not doing that. Have you brought these numbers to Geoff’s attention? Alieth: Of course not. Brodie: Good. It’s probably best to keep it that way. She said nothing on the matter and just spun the empty cup in her hands idly. Brodie: I wonder - if it’s an avenue we could explore with some others with expertise in this area? Trill has a lot of experience with consciousness transfer. Betazed may also be worth looking into. I’m not making any promises but it would allow us to explore options without highlighting anything to those on Vulcan Alieth: It is an alternative. Nevertheless, while to the telepathically null individuals telepathy may seem like a unified phenomenon, it has evolved in very different ways in different species and differs greatly from one species to another. ::She looked at the counsellor with a tilted head.:: And even among different Vulcanoids. Brodie: Although given what you’ve just told me, and the non-typical method of the transfer, I think it’s worth keeping an open mind. That said, with regards to the Katra I would imagine that there would be little expertise outside of Vulcan. Finally, she put the cup on the table and stood up. Alieth: This is, as I expected, a Vulcan issue, which must be resolved in a Vulcan way, sir. ‘Must’ was a strong word. He wasn’t sure if it was a sense of duty, a sense of guilt or a sense of pride that prompted the response - but it was definitely a sign of the stress the situation was placing on the ships chief medical officer. Brodie: I’ll look to see if there’s any research onto this, or similar, outside the typical archives…::raising a hand against protest::...just in case. Obviously if it’s unavoidable you should act to protect Geoff but, otherwise, I’d ask that you don’t take any steps without letting me know first. Brodie had a duty to protect the mental well-being of the crew and any process with a one-in-four chance of mentally impairing the first officer would entail a considerable amount of paperwork before it could be sanctioned...and that approval would need to come from him with Alieth having a clear conflict of interest in this. Brodie: I think we’ve covered a lot of ground today, perhaps we should break and recovenene at a later date. Alieth: Thank you for your time. And the tea. The counsellor pushed himself out of his chair. Brodie: You’re very welcome, Alieth. We’ll talk more soon - and, as always, my door is open whenever you might need me. The young doctor made her way towards the door but, before she left, something on the lanes caught her attention. Two separate pins at far and opposite ends of it. Seven and ten. The Vulcan did a quick calculation and nodded to herself. Grabbing one of the heavier balls resting next to the lane, she stepped to the left and with a measured and precise movement, threw the ball. It swung towards the seven pin with a swift roll and hit the inside of it, apparently barely brushing it. The target knocked and hit the side wall, bounced back to the lane and struck the second pin, knocking it down. Alieth nodded one more time and, without a word, left the bowling alley. Alex watched her go and looked back down the lane. The full array of pins now reset after the impossible split was removed - that chances of which were less than one percent. It could be done with the right curvature but that was always more by luck than judgement. You needed, as Alieth had done, to use not only the ball and the pin but also the side or rear wall to ricochet off. You needed more than just the two players in the game to make the split work. Brodie: ::To himself:: See….nothing is impossible with a little help. [[END]] ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0 & Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

Ensign Jehe aka @Brutus is a real delight to read. In the short time she has been writing her character she has left us with little gems like this one, in which she juggles several scenes outside the bridge to coordinate her own, with the input of all her writting partners and is able to combine tension, humour, snark and a fine, direct prose that lets us getting to know Saja really well. Plus, why deny it, it's a blast to read this intelligence officer trying to park a whale in a thimbleful of water. Good work Bru! __________________________________________________ ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Jehe: Sorry Ma'am, that's about as refined as I can make it. Rouiancet: That's fine. (beat, thinking) Ensign Glass, you said that we couldn't transport through the planetoid's radiation belt. But if the Odin ran into trouble, another shuttle might as well, especially if we don't know what caused the crash. (another beat) What if we took the Thor down? Glass:...Thats true Ma'am...although they would have hit it unexpectedly, while we would have the benefit of knowing what the problem is likely to be....that said though, I'd be happier taking the Thor down rather than a little shuttle! Saja looked at the mess on the viewscreen, then back over at Glass, and for a moment contemplated tartly asking the Ensign if he'd like to take over helm then, if he was happier taking a ship designed to be in the depths of space into an atmosphere. Jehe: We're not designed for atmospheric operations - not that there is much of an atmosphere down there. ::A frown graced her lips.:: Please tell me we're not going to need to set down on the planet? I have never landed a ship this big...Does it even have landing gear? Lia gave a brief shake of her head, far quicker than Saja could look up that specific stat about the ship's configuration. Up until this point, it was not something the young Intelligence specialist had needed to know. Rouiancet: We wouldn't have to land, but what if we went down below 50 kilometers from the surface? Would we be able to do that? Would the transporters be able to cut through the radiation at that distance? Glass: If the transporters still can't beam them up at 50 clicks from the surface, then we'll have a shorter distance to travel in the shuttle....so either way it's a good idea! Jehe: Hard to argue with that logic. She wondered if his enthusiasm was all from nerves, just like her somewhat snarky demeanor. In truth, both of them cared about the occupants of the shuttle. That much had to be clear to the other officers dotting the bridge. With that in mind, the Bajoran redoubled her efforts to calculate the best approach vector, leveraging the ship's computer heavily and trying to remind herself that she had, in fact, flown vessels in the past, even if they weren't quite this large. Rouiancet: Let's give it a try. (beat, deep breath) Bring us down. Jehe: Aye ma'am, beginning descent vector. Kell gripped the sides of his console as the Thor began descending to the planetoid surface - Saja could damn near feel the tension coming off of the man, but she couldn't look back at him, nor the Lt. Commander. Her entire focus was on the controls ahead, eyes flicked up occasionally to visually verify the readings Jehe: Brace for atmospheric breach. A light flashed on the panel in front of her, but a quick sweep of her fingers dismissed it. There was hardly any resistance to speak of on the class D world. The transition was thus much smoother than Saja felt she'd had any right to expect. Not that she was going to complain. Rouiancet: The moment we're in range, I want them beamed out. Glass: Atmospheric shields holding at 86% Ma'am....the computer will kick in transport as soon as it acquires lock! Jehe: We're through what passes for the upper atmosphere.::As she spoke, the ship gave a small shudder, which did nothing at all for her nerves.:: Now it's just dealing with the gravity well. Steady....steady... A whine began to fill the bridge, and Saja realized it was the sound of wind ripping over the ship's hull. In space, nothing of the sort would happen, but even in the thin atmosphere of this tiny rock in space, it was enough to be audibly eerie. Glass: Transporter lock established.....beam up in progress Ma'am! Jehe: oOHey, if you're listening, Prophets, now would be a really good time for a favor...Oo Rouiancet: =/\= Bridge to Transporter Room 1. Do you have them? =/\= Quen / M. Salo / Richards: =/\= Responses =/\= Greaves / Katsim: =/\= Responses, if any =/\= Kell slumped in his seat, letting out a sigh. Glass: Thank the lord...I thought we'd lost them there for a second! Jehe: We're not out if this yet She hated to have to remind him of that, but even as she spoke the Thor rocked slightly. Rouiancet/Glass: response Jehe: Now that we're closer, any chance we can pull the Odin up with us? She didn't care about the ship, not really. She wanted to keep her mind off the injuries that Wes and Peri might have had. Rouiancet/Glass: Response ========== Ens. Jehe Saja Intelligence Officer USS Thor T239712JS0

OOC: @Alieth and @Geoffrey Teller both have a way with words. Alieth has a particular skill for infusing the ability to connect to a person that is supposed to have tight rein on her emotion - and yet she's so emotive. I just adore this pair. IC: ((CMO's Office, Main Sickbay, deck 10, USS Thor)) Teller: We're in trouble, aren't we? ::Geoff tapped his temple:: Both of us. Their gazes met, and he folded his arms across his chest. The young Vulcan kept her features carefully in check as she regarded him, but eventually she let out a soft sigh and provided him with as much of a response as she could. Alieth: I cannot answer that, Geoff, not now, but whatever it takes, I will sort it out, he can count on me :: She gazed into his eyes earnestly, her concern well hidden behind her impassive mask :: And so will you. He took a moment to speak again, as if lost in his own thoughts. She could not blame him, he was, in the end, human, and until a moment ago that alien, shambolic brain of his had housed not only his own being, but two others...and...whatever it was they had found in there. Either a disruption, a commingling, a melding, a folding, or simply the strong memory of someone who had left a mark on Teller's innermost being as much as his skin. Geoff finally blinked and seemed to focus on reality once more. The Vulcan doctor could only tilt her head to the side. Teller: I'm not sure how many sets of memories I have in my head at this point, but all of them tell me to trust you Alieth. ::Geoff forced a grin, if for himself if nothing else:: We'll sort this out, together. Sern's kinda like family to me at this point, and I'd hate...well, you two have been through enough. So, now what? ::Geoff held his hands up defensively:: If you say another mind meld I'm getting a phaser. And a helmet. The prospect made a smile dance in her eyes, even more so now that she had a vague idea of how this endeavour might end. Alieth: We shall see, but for the time being I think you should have some rest. And in the next few weeks just... make sure you stay out of trouble. And for once play it safe, troublemaker. Geoff snorted, which prompted her to allow a tiny curl of one of the sides of her lips, barely a hint of a expression, just an early draft of one. Geoff looked back to Alieth's desk, at the small package and had been lying there, forgotten all that time. Teller: That reminds me....you should really open that. She furrowed her nose faintly in feigned frustration, barely concealing the curiosity she felt as mild vexation. Alieth: You know that there is no jubilee, no human or Vulcan festive observance that would mandate a... :: waving a hand gently to flag the package:: ...a gift. That smug smile of someone overly confident about himself (and in the sheer GENIUS of all and every one of his disastrous ideas) appeared again on his face, this time, at least, without the extra of his former crooked nose. Teller: Well, you can call it whatever you want, I mostly consider this a warning for others. Alieth: Be careful what you are up to Geoffrey John, or else…. She didn't finish the sentence and, instead, took the present and deftly unwrapped it with a couple of concise movements. When she pulled the paper aside, it revealed a piece of duranium that she instantly recognized, largely thanks to the traces of yellow on one of its jagged edges and the lingering smell of bog which not even months and a thorough scrubbing had managed to wipe away. She ran one of her thumbs over the polished surface, over the sixteen words in two languages that the piece encased. Despite all her effort, a faint green blush tinged the tips of her ears and even dared to reach her cheeks, a sign of how the human's emotionality still lingered in her. Chief Medical Officer Alieth Professional Troublemaker USS Thor She took her eyes off the plate and shot him a stare that she had long nursed to terrify patients and health professionals alike away from HER sickbay. Of course the Thor's First Officer was not affected in the slightest. Teller: I figure you can leave that on the desk, at least give your patients a heads up. She clutched the piece of metal tightly in her hands Alieth: this is fallacious, outrageous and utterly inane... And dishonest. Her voice was blunt and dry, yet a glint in her eyes and a slight relaxation around her mouth hinted the truth. As did the fact that he never let go of the plaque. Teller: If that was a thank you, you're welcome. ::Geoff rose, finally confident he could make it to the turbolift without hitting the ground:: I think I'm going to head back to my quarters and sleep for a week. You need anything else from me? Alieth looked at him for a moment and at last tilted her head, to inquire about something that had disconcerted her at the very end of the meld. Alieth: What is a ‘ Silas’ ? Teller: I'm not sure what worries me more...that you know to ask that question, or that you're not even sure about the answer. I'll try to explain...Silas...another time. Alieth: ::With a light tone:: All right, keep your secrets Geoff. ::softening her expression a bit:: And rest well. Geoff smiled weakly and beat a hasty retreat out of sickbay. She followed him out with her gaze and, as the door closed behind him, she indulged herself in a tiny smile, prior to clearing a place of honour on her overcrowded desk to display the cautionary plaque. As he surveyed it and her eyes trailed the complicated spirals of her name in her native tongue, that secret smile melted from her face and morphed into a gesture of concern, as the realization of the danger in which the author of the nameplate and the katra of her most cherished friend found themselves, dawned upon her. She scowled and made her way to the replicator in the office in order to grab a soothing cup of tea before she made any decisions about what to do next. For some reason, the contents of the cup she replicated were not what she expected.... but rather black, steaming hot, bitter coffee. [[END?]] ================================= Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director =================================

I've been resisting putting this SIM here for a few days now because I think it's too self-indulgent as this scene revolves around my character and one crazyof my own crazy ideas. However, today, when I have re-read it to write a reply, I couldn't help but appreciate how WELL written it is, the perfect mix between letting some space so that others can add to the scene and an absolutely delicious description and development of the scenario as well as the great prose, full of humour and subtleties to which @Geoffrey Tellerhas accustomed us to. So I have no choice but to put it here, because it is well worth reading. A call out, again, to @Roshanara Rahmanand @Quen Deenabecause without them it wouldn't have been possible, and my absolute and sincere thanks to them too. I hope I can live up to your standards one day. _______________________________________________________________________________________ ((CMO's Office, Main Sickbay, USS Thor)) Alieth: I’m fine. ::She frowned deeply and reworded the statement:: I am fine. Geoff managed to sit up largely because Cheesecake had a firm grip on the front of his uniform. With limited dignity and no small amount of slobber on his torso, Geoff found himself propped up against the wall of Alieth's office. The pain in his skull was diminishing, but in its place was a strange ringing. Somehow, he recognized it as the sound of Vulcan bells, although he'd never heard them before. They rang across a blistering, sandswept ceremonial battleground. He saw two fighters, wielding the lirpa with desperate, deadly intent. Geoff realized he was watching a fight he'd seen before, but that time it had been from Serns eyes. As the fatal blow was struck, Geoff felt a wave of anguish like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He felt Alieth's pain like it was his own. The memory faded but the emotions stayed sharp and clear. Teller: But...what about Sern? What the hell was all that? Alieth: That is rather more complicated, I… Alieth had managed to keep her seat and most of her dignity, so when she struggled to rise and stand without toppling over Geoff's concern for her was renewed. She steadied herself eventually then came to his aide, displacing Cheesecake to one side with a few friendly pats and then hauling Geoff to his feet. Geoff could've been imagining it, but somehow Alieth seemed...different to him. Her body language had changed, and along with it her tone. He couldn't be sure what this would mean, but he doubted it was good. Alieth: Sern needs help, expert guidance. Assistance that I can only find in Vulcan. Geoff found his strength and balance returning, but he still felt profoundly drained from the experience. He kept having phantom sensations, like the certainty he had sand in his boots or that his non-existent beard was itchy. Other sensations, like the thrill of driving a nearly out of control ground vehicle and joyfully fleeing trouble with a sister, were not his own. The taste of chocolate on his tongue and in his nose, far richer and more potent than anything a human had ever experienced. Voices that sounded like shouting Klingons. It was a distracting collision of memories and experiences, something his brain was apparently having trouble sorting through. Teller: We're in trouble, aren't we? ::Geoff tapped his temple:: Both of us. Geoff met Alieth's gaze and crossed his arms. Alieth: I cannot answer that, Geoff, not now, but whatever it takes, I will sort it out, he can count on me :: She gazed into his eyes earnestly, her concern well hidden behind her impassive mask :: And so will you. Geoff looked to Alieth, and saw many things all at once. Like looking at light split through a crystal, Geoff saw many shades of Alieth. The officer he'd come to know and respect. The woman Sern had loved. Even Alieth's perspective mingled in, her self-doubt and struggles with her family, her grief, her love of this ship and its crew. Geoff had to blink it away and focus hard to keep from getting distracted. Distantly, he wondered how joined Trill kept it all sorted out. Teller: I'm not sure how many sets of memories I have in my head at this point, but all of them tell me to trust you Alieth. ::Geoff forced a grin, if for himself if nothing else:: We'll sort this out, together. Sern's kinda like family to me at this point, and I'd hate...well, you two have been through enough. So, now what? ::Geoff held his hands up defensively:: If you say another mind meld I'm getting a phaser. And a helmet. Alieth: We shall see, but for the time being I think you should have some rest. And in the next few weeks just... make sure you stay out of trouble. And for once play it safe, troublemaker. Geoff snorted, glad to see Alieth loosening up fractionally. oO...troublemaker...Oo Geoff looked back to Alieth's desk, almost forgetting the small package he'd dropped off when he arrived. Teller: That reminds me....you should really open that. Alieth: Response Teller: Well, you can call it whatever you want, I mostly consider this a warning for others. Alieth: Response Alieth took the heavy parcel in hand and unwrapped it deftly, exposing the contents Geoff had put together in one of the ships machine shops. Made from a piece of duranium salvaged from the front engine cowling of his demolished SAG, Teller had worked the metal until it was smooth and flat, with only slightly jagged edges as a reminder of its origin. On the front, etched into the metal in both Federation Standard and Vulcan were eight words: Chief Medical Officer Alieth Professional Troublemaker USS Thor Teller: I figure you can leave that on the desk, at least give your patients a heads up. Alieth: Response Teller: If that was a thank you, you're welcome. ::Geoff rose, finally confident he could make it to the turbolift without hitting the ground:: I think I'm going to head back to my quarters and sleep for a week. You need anything else from me? Alieth: Response Teller: I'm not sure what worries me more...that you know to ask that question, or that you're not even sure about the answer. I'll try to explain...Silas...another time. Alieth: Response Geoff smiled weakly and beat a hasty retreat out of sickbay. As confusing as the meld had been, he felt a strange vitality returning to him. For a few moments, he had again been himself as a younger man. He remembered the passion and drive that had gotten him to the Thor, and more importantly the people who had been part of his journey. As much as he wanted to sleep on his return to his quarters, Geoff instead sat in front of the computer console and opened a new message. // TO: RAHMAN, R., USSVERITAS, CO FROM: TELLER, G.J., USSTHOR, XO Skipper, Thought you should know you saved my life, again, today. Appreciate it. Separately, you guys ever get the starboard plasma manifold alignment issues under control? You know how the core gets. I owe you one, Geoffrey John Teller // Geoff smiled and sent the message off, then collapsed into bed with his boots still on. [Tags/End for Teller!] ((OOC: Special thanks to Fleet Captain Rahman of the Veritas for taking the time to join us for this arc! I think this turned into something really special.)) =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0

I really enjoyed the sarcasm and banter in this JP between @Anton Richards, @Kellan Glass, and @Wes Greaves. A fun read, y'all! IC: ((Main Corridor, Deck 6, USS Thor)) Wes Greaves strolled down the corridor, a towel tossed over his shoulder and his face red from exertion. Small beads of sweat rolled past his eyes and with a single motion he wiped them away with the towel. It’d been a good run. Despite the ship looking generally the same, Wes had wanted to get away from the beaten path of Deck 9 and run somewhere else. Running circles on Deck 6 looked generally the same, but felt a little different. More importantly, it reminded the crew that there were Marines aboard. To Wes, it contributed to the friendly rivalry between the Marines and their sister departments. A way to say We’re here, and we’re getting ready for the next crisis. Are you? Another bead of sweat and another flick of the towel put an end to it. Wes could feel his heart rate starting to return to normal as he made his way to a turbolift. He didn’t recognize many of the faces he saw in the corridors on this deck, which made the face nearby jump out at him. A dozen meters to Wes’s front and walking in the opposite direction, he spotted someone that he thought he recognized from somewhere. The man was familiar, but Wes was having trouble placing the name. After a second, it finally came to him. Ensign Richards. One of the new joins that checked in when Wes was in command of the Thor. Security if he remembered correctly. As the two closed the distance on each other, Wes plastered his signature smile on his face. Greaves: Ensign Richards. I see you’re starting to get settled in. Anton, who was deeply engrossed in his padd, jumped a bit at Greaves’s greeting. Richards: I… Yes Sir! It’s been quite the experience. Talk about getting dropped right into the action! Although I feel that as soon as I got on the ship I was already leaving. I’m looking forward to returning to duty. Greaves: Good to hear. I’d like to say checking into a new ship isn’t always like that, but I had a similar experience a while back. Richards: Oh really? Well I’d love to hear about it sometime Sir. Greaves: I just finished up with a workout, but I’m starving. Care to join me for breakfast? I could tell you all about it. It took almost every muscle in Anton’s body to stop the smirk of accomplished that attempted to protrude from Anton’s skull upon getting invited to breakfast with the Chief Security Officer. Some things really did just fall into Anton’s lap. Having just ate Anton makes the only obvious judgment call. Richards: Absolutely Sir! I’m starving. After you. ::gestures forward:: Kel was wandering, wandering and thinking were two things that he tried to make time for. Vulcans had their meditating, but Kel prefered to move and think. With Kel’s Tactical role onboard being one where you had to think quickly and work on your wits, he had to make sure that he allowed time for contemplating and taking his time with decisions in almost every other aspect of his life. A ship as huge as the Thor was a great place to wander, its arching corridors seemingly stretching on for miles as they ran their course around the ship. Kel was contemplating what the ship’s doctor had dropped on him and his mind was racing. As he reached a junction, he let his feet do the deciding as he pondered on exactly what could have warranted a memory reconstruction. On autopilot Kel turned the corner and ran straight into two officers coming the other way. Glass: Ouufff...Sorry::Looking at the two officers:: Sir’s….::Then noticing that the two were the most familiar members of the crew he had met so far:: Ahh Anton! ::Nodding at Ensign Richards, then straightening up a little more:: Captain! Wes laughed softly and shook his head back and forth a bit seeing the Ensign. Memories of his first meeting with Fleet Captain Kells flooded his mind, although that encounter had been slightly less sweaty…. Or had it? Looking the Ensign over, there was now plainly a wet spot on the man’s chest where Wes’s sweat had rubbed off on the man’s uniform. With a final shake of his head, and a smiler still on his face, the Marine tossed the towel from over his shoulder into Glass’s hands. Greaves: Ensign Glass. Good to see you again. Might want to wipe yourself off. Sorry, I just finished up a run. Anton looks at the startled Ensign Glass and smiles. Richards: ::pretending to tap his COM badge:: Security we have an intruder alert. Some type of walking zombie Ensign. I’ve never seen anything like it. Kell wiped the stubborn stain, that really wasn’t going to go anywhere until his top was washed….gave up and tossed the towel back at Richards. Glass: Well I guess Zombies like eating brains...so your safe Anton! ::Flashing him a smile:: Greaves: Jokes aside, we’re on our way to breakfast if you’d like to join us. I figured we could grab something outa the replicators at the lounge. I’ll probably get fewer dirty looks being in workout gear there. Glass: Yeah sounds good, I was on my way there anyhow! Richards: ::Nods:: With a nod Wes led on toward the nearest turbolift. Greaves: You’ll both enjoy the Valhalla Lounge. Its got a great view out the forward windows, little stage off in the corner for small events, and good ambiance. Half the time they keep the lights dim so you can just relax, although at this time of day its probably fully lit. Richards: Ah yes. I’ve heard of the Valhalla Lounge before I believe. Glass: Does the ship have entertainment nights? With a whoosh, the doors to the lift slid open to reveal an empty turbolift and Wes continued in. Greaves: (Lifting his head) Deck 5. (Turning to the others) Honestly, I can’t remember any. The former Chief of Security did a little rock show in the lounge once. ((Turbolift, Below Deck 6, USS Thor)) Richards: ::Chuckles:: So you're saying that you have a show coming up soon then? Glass: My father was obsessed with the Beatles, he even went as far as collecting vinyl records of the band. He swore they sounded better than the recordings on the ship, but it all sounded scratchy and terrible to me. As the Marine opened his mouth to reply, the faint hum of the lift changed in tone ever so slightly, and suddenly the floor dropped out from under him. For several seconds the trio experienced near weightlessness as the safeties failed and the turbolift fell. Finally, the emergency brakes engaged and with the sound of grinding metal, the lift slammed to a stop, throwing Wes hard to the ground. Kell’s stomach, although thankfully not full, lurched and he felt nausea building up but the pain of hitting the carpeted floor of the turbolift distracted him from actually vomiting! Anton fell backwards into a corner of the turbolift. He managed to stand up quickly. But shortly afterwards bent over placing his hands over his knees and rubbing them. Richards: Yup. I’m sure I will be feeling this one for a bit. Anton stands up straight and then began looking around the turbolift, seeing if there was some type of furthering safety threat. Glass: What the hell was that!::Pushing himself back up to standing:: Kell looked at the control panel, devoid of lights, the glassy surface just reflected his own image back at him. Glass: Great...trapped in a lift with Anton, it isn’t bad enough I have to share quarters with him… Kell looked around at the two other officers Anton shrugged Glass’s comment off with a quick grin, He was used to them bickering back and forth from the Academy. Wes brushed himself off and retrieved the towel from the ground where it had been thrown. His knee was bleeding ever so slightly from being thrown to the ground forcefully, and he was sure there would be a sizable bruise on his left thigh as well. Otherwise the worst seemed to be over. Glass: Are you two ok? Greaves: I’m alright, seemed the lift is dead though. Richards, you good? Richards: Besides a jolt to my knees. I think I’m good. Glass: It should be a quick fix::Tapping his communicator:: Glass to transporter room, we are stuck in turbolift 2a and need transporting out please? There was a static sound, but no voice replied to the call. The Marine frowned and retrieved his own comm badge from the gym shorts he wore. The device beeped a warning when he tapped it. Greaves: Looks like whatever happened to the lift also disconnected it from the internal communications grid. Either of you a whiz with electrical wiring? Richards: Not particularly Sir. Anton looks towards the panel on the side of the wall, and then to Glass. Richards: Do you think we should take a look Sir? Expert or not. There isn’t much sense being trapped here. He glances quickly at Glass. Kell, sensed a change in his demeanor, all of a sudden the perfectly adequate internal space of the lift started to look just a little bit smaller, more confined and even though he knew it was just him imagination, he felt the need to breath a deeper gulp of air, almost as if the air was no longer enough in the turbolift. Glass: Whatever we do, I think I’d prefer it to be on this side of today rather than tomorrow::Kell tried to flash a confident smile, but his apprehension was evident to all:: Greaves: Agreed. (Motioning to the blank interface) Let’s pop that panel off and see if we can’t get us talking to the outside world again. I’m sure we can figure it out. Richards: ::nodding and standing behind Glass overlooking the procedure as if he had a clue what was going on:: Kell moved to the panel and grasped the top edge before yanking it rather too firmly off the wall. Looking inside at the myriad of circuits and bio gel packs, he turned and gave the look most non engineers give when looking at the inner workings of a ship! Glass: Where the bloody hell do you start? Wes frowned. It was a fair question. Greaves: Worst case scenario, we crack the emergency hatch on the ceiling and climb up to the next deck above us. He paused for a second and looked over the faces of the two officers. In all honesty, he kind of hoped for that route. Sounded like fun. Greaves: Any luck with the panel? Kell tried to remember anything he had been taught in the academy that might help, but the more he looked at the hopeless mess of components the more he felt a tightening of panic rising in him. Richards: Do you think maybe that red flashing thing, connects over to this other red flashing thing? ::giving an unconfident and weak smile:: Glass: It’s hopeless...I haven’t the foggiest what half of this does...we move the wrong thing and we could plummet to our ends. Greaves: Well, climbing we go then. Ensign Richards, I’ll give you a boost. See if you can’t get that hatch open up there. Wes knelt down and offered a hand and his raised knee as a foot hold. His other knee, still bleeding slightly, dug into the carpet and the Marine gritted his teeth in a momentary wince of pain. Anton stepped up on Wes’s knee and reached up towards the shaft at the top of the turbolift. He could feel how insecure the turbolift felt. Richards: ::Continuing to attempt to reach the top of the lift:: You know? We really gotta start making it a habit to bring an engineer along for our adventures. Kell watched as the two men struggled to hoist Richards up to the ceiling hatch. Just as it seemed that they were about to get up there, there was a sudden metallic wrenching sound..the lift fell slightly, maybe only a foot or so, but the sudden movement was enough to give serious thought to the assembled men. Glass: Jeez...that sounded a lot like the emergency brakes failing to me! Kell watched as the two men struggled to hoist Richards up to the ceiling hatch. Just as it seemed that they were about to get up there, there was a sudden metallic wrenching sound..the lift fell slightly, maybe only a foot or so, but the sudden movement was enough to give serious thought to the assembled men. Glass: Jeez...that sounded a lot like the emergency brakes failing to me! It took nearly all of his effort to prevent Richards from falling and crushing him. As the lift steadied from the short fall, and metal whined in agony, Wes held Richards’ legs tightly to keep him from losing his balance. Greaves: Alright, time’s up. Let's get out of this death trap. Up you go Ensign Richards. Bracing himself against the wall for balance and leverage, Wes stood in a one legged squat, creating a rising platform Richards stood on. With a grimace of effort on his face and a final huff, the man was through the small hatch above. It was a small effort to repeat the process for Glass. Finally Wes was alone in the lift, the two others offering their hands through the hatch above him. He could feel the blood trickling down his leg from the cut in his knee and as he took in the next challenge he winced slightly from a cramping muscle. Greaves: oO Would’ve gone easier for my workout had I know I’d be doing this afterwards… Oo Taking a breath and crouching to ready himself, Wes prepared for the jump. Leaping up and catching the Ensigns outstretched hands, he was pulled roughly onto the roof of the lift and into the turbolift shaft. Glass: We’ve got you sir! Richards: Up you come now, Sir! Greaves: (Rolling onto the roof of the turbolift and panting a little) Nothing to it (grin). Wes looked around at the walls for a second, his eyes adjusting to the relative darkness. The lift shaft had only sparsely spaced dim lights. After a second he recognized the metal rungs of the ladder embedded in the wall and the Marine pointed in their direction. Greaves: This lift ain’t gonna wait on us forever. Start climbing. It's just a few meters up to the next deck. Richards, Glass, you two first, but hurry. I don’t feel like riding this thing down to engineering while you two take your time on the ladder. Kell looked up at the seemingly never ending tunnel and ladder as it snaked its way to wherever these things went. Glass: That’s a long way up! Kell hoisted himself up, the exertion of pushing himself up to the first rung sending whining noises from the turbolift compartment. Eager not to be the solo survivor, he hurried his pace and called down. Anton was quick behind Glass as he also didn’t feel like seeing exactly how long the lift would hold for. Glass: Come on quick, I don’t know how long the emergency brakes will hold! Richards: I’m hurrying! It’s my damn knee Anton was moving slower now and beginning to grimace as the shock of the fall had worn off, and he was starting to feel the bruise on his knee begin to swell. Greaves: Nope, no time. I don’t want to hear it. Get on that ladder. Anton nodded once again and gritted his teeth through the climb. Kell began climbing upwards, eager to see the bright lights of any deck over the tight confines of the turbolift innards! Glass: I see a door! Richards: That’s good news! How much farther? Anton wasn’t sure if was going to make the climb, just as he sensed that Glass was about to answer him, Anton lost his footing, causing his left foot to slip backwards on the ladder brushing very close to hitting Greaves in the forehead. Anton twirled around to the edge of the ladder, briefly looking down the turbolift and seeing the fall. Looking up at Glass’s call, Wes saw Richard’s foot slip just in time to let himself drop down a rung and narrowly dodge what would have been a swift kick to the face. With a scowl on his face, the man watched Richards twirl to the side of the ladder, but the concerned look on the security officer’s face halted what was about to be a harsh response. Greaves: (Growling voice) Richards, for the love of god, get back on that ladder and quit looking down. We’re almost there. Anton steadied himself and began climbing, faster than before. The sight of the drop “inspired” him. Glass: Come on Spiderman! Wes smiled at the comment. Kell looked back at the door, with the absence of an actual turbolift the door stood firmly closed. Glass: Without the turbolift here, it's not going to open easily! Greaves: I have confidence you can figure it out! Emergency release should be on the right side. Richards: Yeah Glass! Any day now! It was part sarcasm and part anger due to the frustrating pain he was experiencing as Anton held his one knee up off the ladder to avoid putting pressure on it. He was hoping this wasn’t going to result in a trip to sick bay. Kell reached over and grasped the red handle to the side of the door and began turning it anticlockwise….slowly the door inched it way open. Glass: Its opening now, hold on. With a hiss, the turbolift doors to deck 13 slid open revealing the carpeted corridor beyond. One by one the three climbed up and scrambled to the safety of a solid floor. Bringing up the rear, Wes took the offered hands of the Ensigns to pull him the last bit of the way, and at last they were clear of the danger. Another hiss and the doors slid shut once more. Wes took stock of the three. They’d all accumulated a bit of grease and dirt on their uniforms from the climb, and Wes’s workout clothes were still plenty soiled from earlier in the day. Doing his best to brush himself off, Wes stood and gave a stern look to a passing crewman which looked bewildered at their sudden appearance. Greaves: Congratulations Ensigns, you’ve just survived turbolift seven. Anton rubbing his aching knee, brushes himself off and stands up straight. Still out of breath Anton looks down the shaft and then up at Greaves. Richards: Perhaps I will have a t-shirt made. Kell felt a sudden wave of panic, the room started to spin every so slightly, causing him to grab hold of the wall and steady himself, closing his eyes he counted to ten. He’d never personally experienced a panic attack, but knew the symptoms well enough from his mothers teaching. Glass: Ok….is….is everyone in one piece? Greaves: (Gesturing to his bleeding knee) All things considered, I think I’ll have to raincheck on that breakfast. Engineering and Ops need to know about this lift, and I need to get cleaned up. Anton nods at Greaves Richards: Yeah. I believe I have lost my appetite. Glass: Yeah, I’m going to walk back to my room and have a bit of a lay down! Greaves paused and looked the two over once more. They hid it well, but there was something in Glass’s look that worried him. A slight hesitation. A lingering look at the doors. Greaves: Are you both going to be alright? Anton extends his arms outright from either side of him, eyeing them back and forth to make sure that he had not in fact plummeted to his death in the turbolift. Richards: ::Nodding:: I think I’ll be fine. Just another day at StarFleet I presume. Kell shot the pair a luke warm smile. Glass: Yeah...I’ll….I’ll be ok, just gotta leave off taking one of these again for a while!...see you back in our room later buddy…::then looking back at Captain Greaves:: Thanks for the cool head sir! Kell tapped Anton on the shoulder, smiled and walked off. The Marine nodded at the comment but didn’t speak. Instead he watched as the pair walked off deeper into the deck, likely in search of another turbolift. After a moment they were lost to sight in the busy corridor and Wes turned in the other direction. The two Ensigns both were quick on their feet, at least in the simple adventure they’d all shared. With any luck, Wes would be inheriting two promising officers. END ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 & Ensign Anton Richards Security Officer USS Thor T239802AR1 & Ensign Kellan Glass Tactical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding T239802KG1 =========================

I want to thank @Alieth, along with @Roshanara Rahman & @Quen Deena, for making this entire arc absolutely incredible to explore. I've said this on Discord, but I'll reiterate it here because I think it's important - generally speaking I find it difficult to explore my own character, or to make them the 'center' of a narrative arc. I'm always concerned it's self-indulgent or exclusionary so I rarely go to these stories, excepting with the help of the writers I've most come to respect and trust. I'm glad I did, because what @Alieth did in this last sim is an incredible reflection on my own character, and my 'history' with our fleet. Thank you, Troublemaker. ========================================================================= Falling from the ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Veritas)) Reality collapsed at Alieth's feet, in a cascade of memory fragments into darkness. Glimpses for the past rained down around her, disjointed and senseless as she tumbled hastily into the abyss. The red light in the teetering corridors of the USS Artemis. A well-endowed front end of a version of Captain Rahman riding a Veritas through the space, with spots ALL the way down. Teller: Alieth! For some reason, a violent impact to the chest followed by a more than audible “FALLHHHASLLPPPPPPPP!”. Someone speaking in a strangely flowery manner. For some reason the words "Silas" and "Saga" echoed over and over in the void. Neither made sense to the Vulcan. The texture of the Uss Diligent's captain's chair, firm under her fingers, though she had never been there. The woodlands of Til'ahn, the gurgling sound of his chest after a runabout fell on his head. Mackenzie, working on a mechanical arm for a reluctant G'var. A robotic leg for a Betazoid officer, Adea. While Alieth knew the former CMO, she didn't know either of the other two, but she recognised their faces. Somehow. A little girl, playing with a yellow-robed muppet, who looked suspiciously like a certain red-haired fellow. For some reason, she knew there was a degree of mischief involved. Teller: Alieth! We have to go! Now! A white wake that, for some mysterious reason, left a trail of bamboo and coconuts behind it hurried towards her amidst memories of a crazy party with someone called Ukinix and a snooty-looking black-eyed woman in the chase of a bellhop. Somehow, there, when everything was crumbling around her, smelt like coffee. Amidst the maelstrom of memories and shadowy images, she intuited a familiar form. Alieth stretched out her hands in search of the faint figure she could not fully see. Alieth: We cannot Sern is still... Teller: It won't matter if we don't get out of here. You have to break the meld! A firm hand grasped her wrist. She clung onto him as they both spun on the trajectory that had resulted from their collision. Alieth: Alright! Alieth closed her eyes and concentrated on her hands. Not on those, clinging to the skinny pale wrist, but on another, far, far away, resting on the profile of a face just over the qui'lari. She felt the electric tingle under her fingertips, the vibrant connection between her minds. With one last effort of her will, Alieth flexed her fingers... ... And pushed. And when she opened her eyes, she was still in her office chair, as a very large dog performed the duty her kind had been performing for millennia and was saving a human's life. Licking him. ((CMO's Office, Main Sickbay, USS Thor)) The light in the office was too white, too bright after her plunge into darkness. Alieth closed her eyes and breathed in, the emotions of the meld still lingering in her mind. Some were not her own. Most of them were just hers. And she didn't want to deal with them, not there, not at that moment. She just could not. She breathed out deeply and inhaled once more. When she exhaled again, it was herself all over again, what had happened pushed away and tucked away in a place deep in her mind, shelved for... for later. Yet there was... a certain tension in her face, a certain frown in her slanted eyebrows, a subtle dull gleam in her dark eyes. Teller: Doc...Alieth...are you... Alieth: I’m fine. ::She frowned deeply and reworded the statement:: I am fine. Fine was a non-descript and imprecise term, and yet she could find nothing better to convey the truth. Teller: But...what about Sern? What the hell was all that? Alieth: That is rather more complicated, I… She tilted her head to one side and, quickly, she regretted it, the throbbing pain piercing through her temples. She leaned back for a moment, eyes closed, before she stood back on her feet. For a moment she held herself upright, as if she questioned her own stability, just before she moved the scant two steps that separated her from the officer sprawled on the floor and the solicitous canid. She patted the animal's head a couple of times and pushed the dog aside from him before she offered a hand to the human. With one efficient motion, she assisted him back to his feet. That brief contact ceased quickly, however, with Alieth pulling her hands away just as soon as he regained his verticality. She folded her hands behind her back, hiding them in the sleeves of her lab coat. Alieth: Sern needs help, expert guidance. Assistance that I can only find in Vulcan. Teller: ? Alieth: I cannot answer that, Geoff, not now, but whatever it takes, I will sort it out, he can count on me :: She gazed into his eyes earnestly, her concern well hidden behind her impassive mask :: And so will you. Teller: ? She allowed herself for a moment to relax her firm grip on her features, and one corner of her mouth curved up slightly, barely a shadow of what she had been in his mind. Alieth: We shall see, but for the time being I think you should have some rest. And in the next few weeks just... make sure you stay out of trouble. And for once play it safe, troublemaker. Teller: ? [[Tag! & TBC]] OOC: qui'lari -> the Vulcan name for a focal point in the bioelectric field in foramen magnums of a humanoid ================================= Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director =================================

@Alieth has introduced this lovely character arc involving her deceased lover (don't even try to deny it, Alieth) who was killed and his katra placed in @Geoffrey Teller in order to preserve it. Here, we see that Vulcans are not devoid of emotion, and though the display isn't as overt as perhaps one might see in a human, I can't help but connect emotionally to Sern and Alieth. ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Veritas)) Sern: I do not choose the places. They never last long. Days - sometimes hours. It was fortunate I came across this one. The bridge jolted around them. On the screen, the nose of the Veritas pitched towards the planet, its rings and moons taking up more and more of the screen. Alieth: Then choose a location, hold on to it. This bouncing from one memory to another is putting Geoff in danger. Her voice came softly, stating the glaringly obvious. He’d figured that out weeks ago - back on the holodeck. When he first began to withdraw. His reply was quick and curt. Sern: I am aware that Geoffrey John is in danger, and I am telling you that my actions are not the cause. She straightened up and blinked several times.There was another long pause, as he considered putting his hypothesis forward. Sern: I … I believe it may be my presence. It made sense. Carrying the katra of another, the essence and full memories of another Vulcan required a toll. A Vulcan could adapt - given enough time and mental discipline. A Human could not. The Human brain was simply not constructed to bear the weight of the katra. And they both knew it. She held out her hand. A smile etched softly across her face. It was a gesture that comforted and alarmed him in equal measure. Alieth: Then come back to me. Just as it used to be. You and me. Sern looked from her hand to the surprisingly eager expression on her face and back again. Could it be done? Could he return? Such transfers had happened - but in a matter of days, not weeks. And certainly not months… The damage he was wreaking on his Human host was obvious, more than obvious. Was it the same for a Vulcan? Were they just better at hiding it? Yet, more importantly - what would be the consequences of returning now? Sern: No. ::he paused, the word coming through a little too harshly:: I cannot - we cannot. She took a step back. The starship shook around them. Panels fell from the ceiling, a cascade of sparks burst from the viewscreen before a rift split it in half, extinguishing the view of space. With a pop and a flash, everything forward of the helm snapped out of existence, the blur closing in. A crack spread out between the two Vulcans, narrow, but tearing them apart. Alieth: I do not understand. Why? Why not? The rift deepened, spreading across the bridge to the point where the illusion ended, and curving around to split the ceiling above. Sern: This place is unraveling - come with me! Jump! She tried to reach for him, arms outstretched in front of her. The crevice broadened suddenly under her feet and she was forced to stop at the edge of the abyss, her goal forgotten in a vain attempt to keep her balance on the edge. He took a half-step closer, held back by a familiarity with the calamity the Edge could hold. At the other end lay another memory - some good, some bad. With an unraveling as violent as this: almost certainly bad. Alieth: Sern!?!?!?! His hand snapped out in one final effort to catch hers. Sern: He must be pulling you back - I shouldn’t - I knew this couldn’t last… JUMP!! Despite his words, despite her efforts, she fell. The blur around the edges deepened - the line between existence and darkness rapidly disintegrating until- Nothing. ((The Brew Continuum, Deck 4, USS Veritas)) ((Not Blowing Up)) The silence was deafening after the sound-and-fury departure of the last world. Slowly, the space filled with a soft backdrop of white noise: the clatter of cups, the occasional hiss of steam from the equipment, the blended chatter of voices. No conversation could clearly be distinguished. After all, neither the Vulcan nor the Human knew what had been said. The room itself began to take shape - a close, tight arrangement of tables and beings. Some, Sern knew from his last trip here, belonged. Others, not so much. Good. He’d stumbled onto a haven. Slowly, a table began to take shape in front of him. Sern found himself sitting before he could fully recall the place, a mug appearing in his hand. From the depths of the vessel rose a distinct aroma, borne on the tendrils of steam that snaked their way up to his nostrils. The Vulcan hated to admit it. He was beginning to grow fond of that vile, brown liquid… [End Scene?] __________ Sern of Vulcan Katra Reluctant Coffee Drinker E239602QD0

I can't really describe what an honour it was to have @Geoffrey Teller agree to take part in this insane scene, but to have him do it with such an amazing quality of writing is a gift in itself. This sim, heading to the wrap up of the mind meld scene is a real treasure where he demonstrates his amazing knack to weave drama, humour and action together, even more so to leave us with the message that creativity can take you everywhere and that is just top notch. Thank you so much for jumping into this madness and a well deserved call out to @Quen Deena and @Roshanara Rahman for having jumped in and delivered up and better than I could have ever dared to imagine. _________________________________________________________________________________ ((Purplewhitehaven Beach, Limbo, within Geoff Teller's mind)) Geoff knew what he was 'seeing' was somewhere between a ghost and a memory, but that didn't matter. She felt deeply real to him even as her appearance rippled and changed. For a moment, Geoff caught a glimpse of something behind the mask. Something sad. Something hiding. It was gone a moment later and the Skipper returned to the form he had always known. Rahman: But *this* is the woman you still remember. The woman returned a playful smirk as she reached down and lifted her right pant leg slightly, revealing some Trill-like spots that ran down the side of her leg. Rahman: She told you that was inaccurate. Geoff felt himself blushing in slight embarrassment. Teller: You know how it is, Skipper. You get an idea in your head it can be tough to dislodge it. ::Geoff turned back, wagging a finger accusingly:: Wait a minute, what the hell am I embarrassed about. You're just in my head, you're not the real Rahman. This Roshanara shrugged before looking down at her chest. Rahman: Well, I suppose it could be worse. Geoff paled deeply, forced to recall the entire embarrassing situation with his ill chosen tattoo. He gasped, the full force of the memory hitting him all at once, unfiltered and in too perfect clarity. It was as if all the emotions of the original experience were back with him at once, magnified and distorted. Rahman: Now... I'm hungry! Let's get something to eat. ((Campfire, Purplewhitehaven Beach - Day)) The "New Risa resort" that Teller had helped construct with the other Veritas survivors in the real world no longer existed in this iteration of Limbo. So instead, Teller and Roshanara had set up a small campfire near the escape pod. Rahman: ::to narrator:: A campfire in the day? No, that won't do... ((Campfire, Purplewhitehaven Beach - Night)) Geoff's head whipped around, trying to process the sudden changes as the terrain shifted and reformed. The memorial stone was again in the distance and he was back at the escape pod, standing before a large stone encircled fire pit he could not remember ever building in the real world. The brutal tropical sun above made the fire pointless but in another moment, night had fallen and along with it the temperature. The woman in his mind was looking to the sky, and Geoff's eyes followed. With the sun gone, the brightest star in the sky had become the Veritas herself, suspended in time like a fly in amber. It had infuriated Teller ever single day he was trapped on this moon to be within sight of the ship but completely cut off. Roshanara cut a piece of fish they'd caught earlier in the day that had been cooking over the fire before handing it over to Teller. Rahman: You look like you could have a bite. Geoff looked down, accepting the stick with a deep scowl. Among the things which had competed for his most hated experience on Limbo had been the food. Fish. Fish stew. Baked. They were lucky to have had it and lived on it, and almost exclusively it, for months. Geoff no longer ate fish. Ever. Teller: I think I'll pass if it's all the same to you. Rahman: I promise it'll be even better than you remember. She sat up a little straighter, clearly proud. Rahman: I added some berry juice I found earlier. Geoff shook his head at the sudden warmth and eagerness to please. It made the Skipper seem vulnerable in a way Geoff had never consciously imagined. She'd never once acted this way in person, he was certain of that. Whatever it was, it compelled him to take a few hesitant bites. His eyes widened in surprise. Teller: That's actually..not..bad. Thank you...I guess. Geoff slumped down on the sand, suddenly tired of standing. He chewed through another mouthful of fictitious fish before leaning back against the escape pod in exhaustion. He was warm from the fire and considered closing his eyes for a moment, the lapping of the nearby waves calming him more than it ever had on the actual planet. Captain Rahman's voice sounded far away, but it kept Geoff anchored. Rahman: What we need to figure out, Mister Teller, is how you're going to get us back up there! Geoff shook his head, confused again. Teller: I...we did already. This was almost two years ago. We got off that world, all of us. ::Geoff thought again of the memorial stone:: Most of us. Rahman: Well how did you do it last time? Teller: What, you're going to make me explain it to you like I did last time? That took all night, and I don't have Wil here to draw the diagrams. Geoff tried to stand but his exhaustion was growing deeper the longer he sat around the fire. Some part of him knew the truth, that the meld had gone wrong. If he didn't find Alieth, or more likely if Alieth didn't find him, they'd both end up trapped within their own minds, slowly going mad as their bodies failed. Rahman: Then let's think outside the proverbial box. I don't care how red that shirt gets, you'll always be a Starfleet engineer. Something in the Captain's voice connected with the earliest moments in his Starfleet career. Stepping off the shuttle that had delivered him from Starbase 118. His orders, partially garbled by the subspace interference of the Shoals, had led him to believe he'd be a helmsman. He'd met the Captain minutes later, already deeply embroiled in a crisis. She had immediately overawed Geoff in those first moments, and he'd spent the rest of his career trying to live up to that titanic memory. Geoff struggled up unsteadily but managed to come to his feet. He felt calmer and more focused. Teller: You know, I had a whole plan for mass producing hydrazine on this planet...::Geoff imagined the little cave workshop he had built, far from camp for safety reasons. He'd never had the time to get much beyond the experimental phase before he'd figured out a different path home for the crew.::...and I was planning to launch a rocket. Unmanned, of course. Thought we might be able to get a transporter relay into orbit... The beach shimmered again but what now stood there had never existed in reality. Beginning at the treeline, a launch ramp made of lashed together logs pointed towards the sky. It had been planed down to create a smooth slide, and the surface had been coated by something that looked like petroleum oil. At the head of the ramp, a small vessel of equally improvised construction sat with bamboo door wedged open, a single seat inside. Geoff thought about it and his thinking became more clear. He was trapped within his own mind, and his creativity had always been his greatest strength. Here, it could be unbounded by the laws of physics or material science. Here, Geoff could make any ridiculous contraption he'd ever dreamed of. Right now, he was dreaming of a bamboo rocketship that would take him to the Veritas so he could rescue his friend and get the hell out of this place. The rocket motor of the bamboo ship sputtered to life, a small stream of smoke and fire from the rear. Geoff took a step towards it. Rahman: Response Teller: Skipper, you're right. You're always right. The minute I start forgetting what I'm doing, you remind me I'm here to build things. Mad, wonderful, fantastic things. ::Geoff took the wicker seat in the center of the improbable craft. The controls were all coconut halves and bamboo levers. Geoff tugged at a few confidentally, certain now this would work.:: You want to come with me? ::Geoff nodded, and suddenly a second seat appeared in the small craft.:: Rahman: Response Teller: Well, it's up to you, but in about ten seconds I'm pressing the big red coconut so either get in and hang on or get out and wish me luck, because I swore I wasn't going to die on this beach once and I'll be damned if it beats me now. And that's a God Damn Good Job Guarantee, Skipper. Rahman: Response Geoff smiled and winked, pulling the door closed and settling back in the chair. Teller: Thanks, Roshanara. For everything. Geoff fixed his eyes on the falling Veritas out his seaglass viewport and smacked the launch control. As his imaginary ship rocketed down the launchway, bits and pieces collapsed off the sides and top while the ground behind it vanished into nothingness. The beach and the island and the whole of the world vanished away as Geoff took flight, all the elements of the fantasy falling away around him as he grew closer towards his goal. His eyes stayed fixed on the point of light that had been the Veritas, but Geoff realized now it was something more. He leaned forward, calling a name out into the dark. Teller: Alieth! He flew like an arrow towards that point of light within his mind. It was the only thing left in a space that had gone pitch black. This was his last chance. He called out again. They'd escape this place together, or not at all. He felt himself growing closer to something familiar and shouted again. Teller: Alieth! We have to go! Now! Alieth: Response Teller: It won't matter if we don't get out of here. You have to break the meld! Alieth: Response Geoff felt himself tumbling again, spinning out of control as Alieth's voice became large in his mind. Then, a light. And a very large dog. ((CMO's Office, Main Sickbay, USS Thor)) Geoff pitched backwards in his chair but could not catch himself in time and ended up sprawled on the floor of Alieth's office, a monumentally bad headache throbbing behind his eyes. Before he could move or speak a single word, Cheesecake was hovering over him, the dogs huge face upside down to Geoff's perspective. Cheesecake then very helpful provided resuscitation services by licking the entirety of Geoff's face and at least one of his eyeballs. Teller groaned and tried to stand without success. Teller: Doc...Alieth...are you... Alieth: Response Teller: But...what about Sern? What the hell was all that? Alieth: Response [Tags/TBC!] =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0