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I'm really excited to read more of this plot arc @Alieth and @Sirok are writing. I'm already in love with Rekika. She's just how I imagined her to be! ((Vulcan - Kyr Province - Sobok family House)) T'Lil had prepared the wedding from multiple functions. On the one hand a show of unification between Vulcans and Romulans. On the other hand an attempt to continue the family saga if all went well. And as an introduction to the Vulcan society for Sirok himself. The Vulcan matriarch, if in private she had disparaged Sirok's Starfleet career, opted to picked out every positive trait in public, everything of what her son could learn and do for Vulcan and Kyr as a Starfleet officer. And she highlighted his rapid rise through the ranks despite his relatively young age. The event itself had perfectly fulfilled all the precepts of a very traditional Vulcan wedding, implementing old elements of Romulan weddings, which had quite a few things in common with Vulcan’s. In itself the act was meant to exemplify unification. While for some the Vulcans and Romulans present it was just the most fitting way to carry it, for others it was just too soon for something like that, or even something that should never have happened. Some inhabitants of Vulcan, old and new, thought that Romulan presence was only temporary, until they could once again claim a planet as their own. For Sirok the situation had resulted to be a test. In the days before the ceremony, he had tried to memorize the names and faces of each of the attendees. And that was just a quite long list. Although T'Lil had conveniently overlooked to invite any of the Thor's crew, not even the captain. Her excuse, of course, was only logical: those uniforms made some of the bride's family skittish. And she had had just enough to do with dealing with her son's feelings to add other’s to the mix. The young engineer was not used to such social events. He most time tried to avoid them, even though he understood the usefulness of such rituals. He endeavored to behave like a Starfleet officer in a diplomatic situation and follow the instructions that his parents have give him. As soon as he saw an opportunity Sirok decided to retreat and took refuge in the secondary house. A building erected by his great-grandfather for S'Vec and T'Lil to live in, while he still occupied the main house, while Sobok remained on the USS Elcano and his wife preferred to live near the Academy of Sciences. It has remained uninhabited since Sirok's great-grandfather passed away, as Sopeg lived with his wife in the capital. Even there, at that distance, he could still hear the faint chimes of vulcan lutes, as much as the barely audible murmur of multiple conversations. So, he entered the house and without even close the door, he looked for a dark place, a hidden spot where he could shut his eyes and tried to control his breathing. He repeated in his head principles of logic, endeavouring to free his mind and take hold of his feelings. If he weren’t wearing for the ceremonial robes, he would attempt to practice suus mahna. When he had barely managed to regain some degree of mental equilibrium, his efforts were interrupted by the sound of light footsteps behind him. Rekika: So this is where you have chosen to escape… The words were left hanging in the air, sharp, with no trace of sympathy in them. She followed shortly after, abandoning the shadows she had inhabited. She strode across the narrow chamber to his position, her gait confident and steadfast, the tap of her heels ricocheting firmly against the polished floor, as if she were part on a martial march. Only when she was just a few centimetres away from the young Vulcan did she halt, her gaze at almost the same level as his. She held his gaze as the minutes thickened, cold and tense amid the desert heat. At some point, the Romulan woman determined that she had had enough and examined him from top to bottom, scrutinizing him in unabashed detail. Rekika: Since my family moved here I have had ample time to learn your language, son of S'vec. So tell me, Sirok, are you so outside of hope as your name implies? Sirok stood staring at her for a brief moment, the situation was strange. Legally he was linked to that woman and it was a logical link for many reasons. But given the speed of the whole new situation the young man, who followed strong routines to help his memory, was not quite used to it. Sirok: I thought they told you about my condition. A smile crept across her features, whether there was mirth or disdain in her was somewhat difficult to pinpoint. Rekika: They did, but humour me with your version of the facts. Sirok: We should go somewhere else, now it is also your home, and you should be familiar with it. She gave a slight shrug and the smile etched in her face became somewhat more skewed, albeit no less ambiguous. A motion of her chin suggested that he should lead the way. Without waiting for a more elaborated answer, he turned on the light and escorted her into the living room. As every chamber in the Sobok’s property, it was tidy and spotless. Nevertheless, the design was somewhat old-fashioned, yet every little detail was strictly functional and every piece was made of the finest materials. Sirok: Sometimes I came here to meditate and study when my brother's Sehlat did not allow me to enter the main house. Have a seat. Rekika: Lovely, even the little kitten despised my groom. She sat down just before kept talking, at ease and leisurely, as if she owned the room. In some ways she did, or would do so in the future. Sirok: the reason why he did not accept me is related in part to my condition. :: he said as he sat down. :: Rekika: Is that the answer to my question? Sirok: As you should know now, I was born with brain damage. It mainly affects my telepathic abilities, which are practically non-existent. Also, my memory is worse than it should be. Although unlike telepathy I have applied techniques developed by some of the best Vulcan masters to alleviate its effects, making it practically unnoticeable for the time being. Sirok said it with his usual dreary tone. Only someone who knew him very well would know that he was showing some nervousness. Rekika: … for the time being :: She echoed, her tone much more nuanced, if as contradictory as her expression.:: And what about the future? Will I find myself married to a chunk of worthless meat soon? She tipped her head fractionally and indulged herself in a momentary display of compunction. Something she studiously made an effort to prove that she did not feel. At all. Rekika: No offence to your brother's condition. Sirok: I am a follower of Surak. I am not offended by such comments. But as you said, yes, I have a higher probability of having neural afflictions of different nature. Rekika: When. The word was delivered both as a query and a demand. Sirok: I cannot know. It should not happen for quite a few years, I am still young, so maybe plenty. Or perhaps it will never happen. Only if everyone has some chance of that kind of disease, mine is higher. This probability will increase with age. The Vulcan was direct, no secrets, no half-measures. Rekika: So you are like a ticking bomb scheduled to explode. We just don't know when or if you'll do it. Sirok: This is quite accurate. She chuckled openly, a clear, musical laugh from one who had never had to suppress it in her life. She laughed not at him, though, nor at the response to her remarks, but merely because of the brutal sincerity and endless candour of her groom. It was, somehow, refreshing. Rekika: I can live with it, or with the lie underneath it. Sirok: I recommend that you accept it for what it is. It is simply the truth. He did not know what Rekika thought about Surak's teachings, but Sirok thought that following them was the best thing to do, more so for his situation. Rekika: Perhaps, but my version is more fun. The smile widened dangerously on her lips. Sirok: But it is a long-term danger. The lack of telepathic ability disrupts certain biological functions of my species. For example in the ceremony, when we have joined together and our fingers touched, a certain bond should have been created. I only felt your skin and you felt mine. He maintained his monotone. But he had used all his concentration to suppress the fear he felt in that situation. One of the moments he dreaded most in his life. Rekika: That's what happened for you? She left the question lingering in the air, as if her experience had been different, but her face retained the same derisive expression that had accompanied her for much of the conversation. Still, her mind buzzed with ideas: she had trained herself to engage a vulcan, to have a spy inside her own mind. She had woven lies within her lies, hidden behind shadows of half-truths. But her new husband? He was something else. Something quite different. Oh, and convenient. She allowed herself to lean forward, amidst a ruffle of the fabric of her betrothal gown. Rekika: As for the contract your mother reached with my family, what are you going to do about it? Sirok remained still in his seat, like a talking piece of furniture. And imperceptibly he was relaxing with the situation, accepting it little by little. Sirok:I do not know all the details, I just asked to be allowed to continue my work in Starfleet. I think I can learn and do a lot as an officer. Rekika: As for the contract your mother reached with my family, what are you going to do about it? Sirok remained still in his seat, like a talking piece of furniture. And imperceptibly he was relaxing with the situation, accepting it little by little. Sirok:I do not know all the details, I just asked to be allowed to continue my work in Starfleet. I think I can learn and do a lot as an officer. She leaned back and raised an elegant hand in front of her. Rekika: My family and the people associated with it will continue to have the rights to occupy a portion of your family lands to formalize a Romulan settlement. You will be provided with assistance in carrying out this endeavour without interference. Alongside this, my family's trading enterprise will be sustained, by helping to smooth out any friction that may arise with the Vulcan government. She fell back for a moment and watched him carefully before resuming her speech. Rekika: The other details are less important, but that is the heart of the matter. Your role, naturally, will be as caretaker of it if your family decides to break the agreement. Sirok:My family has always supported Unification, even before the Hobus disaster. So as long as there are no criminal acts we will continue to do our best to keep Unification moving forward. Another musical laugh echoed through the stark Vulcan chamber. Rekika:::In a playful tone:: No promises, my dear The Vulcan raised an eyebrow slightly. Sirok: I expect that it is a joke that I do not understand. The smile stretched across the Romulan's face once more. Rekika: Don't worry my dear, you'll figure it out... over time. Whether she meant the joke or the allegation of the illegality of her family's deeds was left unsaid. Sirok remained silent for a moment. Sirok: I understand then that there is no problem for me to return to the Thor to do my job. Rekika: And meanwhile I'll wait here, as a faithful bride longing for her gallant officer, while i help in the family business. Sirok: Everything has been so sudden that I have not been able to know what is your business. She then made a faint smacking sound with her lips and leaned back in feigned annoyance. Rekika: There's nothing to drink here? So much chatter makes me thirsty The young engineer got up in the direction of the kitchen. Sirok: It has been years since I have been in this house, but there was a good selection of juices. At the wedding alcoholic beverages were served in courtesy to our guests, but it is not something we consume. He spent a moment searching without success. So he fired up the replicator and replicated a pair of vulcan mocha. The replicator had not been checked for some time and did not work as the young man would have liked, he would check it when he had time. When he brought the cup towards her she took it in turn and managed to ensure that their fingers touched. Her hands remained there for a time and, as she did so, she glanced up at his face in search of a reaction, or lack thereof. What she saw on Sirok's countenance brought a mirthful gleam to her eye. Sirok: I expect you like it. Thereupon, she settled back against the back of the couch and drank the cup almost dry in a single gulp. Next, she slipped her right hand onto the armrest, the nearly drained cup held loosely between her fingers. Rekika: Excellent and adequate. As expected. Sirok nodded. Despite Rekika's positive response, he would check the replicator. The young man returned to his seat with his own cup in his hands. Sirok: You were going to tell me what you do for a living. Rekika: Oh well, we're mere traders. My people need commodities that can't be obtained on the planet, and we provide. Sirok: I know that the population increase is being a problem for a reasonable use of Vulcan's resources. She looked into his eyes and held his gaze for a moment. Rekika: :slowly: I think that given our shared situation it’s better to start calling it Ni'Var. The Vulcan took a long sip of the mocha. He hadn't realized his mouth was dry until he had felt the liquid. Sirok: A designation to exemplify the unification. It is appropriate. Rekika: You'll learn soon enough that I don't speak in vain, sweetheart. Sirok: as it should be. Without further ado she laid the cup indifferently on the arm of the couch and rose to her feet, with an almost feline elegance. In a vaguely coquettish manner, she arranged the slight misalignments in her attire before she resumed speaking. Rekika: Well, enough of the chitchat, we should get back to the party. She held out a hand waiting for him to take it, as was expected of a married couple. Sirok stood up, leaving the cup on a nearby table. Placing his hands with her in the traditional way, feeling her skin again. Rekika: ::Casually::. By the way, will you please be sure to inform your captain that I'll be joining you on that Starfleet vessel of yours? The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, not expecting such a proposition. Sirok: I think I can reason with Captain Kells. But I do not think my mother will allow both of us to be off planet given my brother's situation. Rekika: Don't worry about that, I'll make T'Lil see the logic in my decision to join you. A musical laugh followed them as they crossed the lintel of the secondary house and flickered in the air for a moment before the Romulan whispered her follow-up remark. Rekika: And in case I fail... my father will persuade her… She was certain that he would see as much merit as she herself did in her returning to cross the stars aboard a starship. Even more so in one so different from the Birds of Prey in which she had served a decade ago… ========================= As simmed by Rekika of Romulus Former Romulan Star Navy Lieutenant Romulan Colony of Ni’Var E239702A10 & Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10

I really enjoyed this collaboration between @Sirok and @Geoffrey Teller. I especially enjoyed seeing more of Sirok, one of our resident and most emotional Vulcan. ((Vulcan - Kir province - Sobok family mainhouse)) Sobok and Sirok materialized in front of a . It was of straight lines and its glass exteriors, orderly, designed for a simple use of the interior space. A classic Vulcan construction of the 23rd century. It was built on a small promontory surrounded by several trees with reddish leaves that gave warmth to both the exterior and interior of the house. Sobok knew the coordinates well and was able to give them accurately enough to save him having to climb the small hill that led up to the house. He had also arranged for his and Sirok's luggage to wait for them in their respective rooms, not wanting to leave the young man to carry both . Feeling the increased Vulcan gravity indicated to the chief engineer that the transporter cycle had ended and Sirok looked around for a moment. It was the first time he had been back since being admitted to Starfleet Academy and he looked for any changes the house might have undergone. As he expected there were none. The trees were so carefully trimmed that they seemed frozen in time.There was no noticeable stain or scuff on the glass surface of the house. The grass around the house grew to the desired height, never beyond. The distant sound of the drones that controlled the plantations indicated like a calendar what time of the year it was and what was the state of the crops. He had left his uniform and rank on the ship and like his grandfather wore a simple light colored robe. That robe was one of the few belongings he had taken with him when he left and was part of the few belongings he brought back. They approached the front door and it opened, revealing the figure of a slender Vulcan woman. Her bearing was elegant, regal. She kept her hands behind her back and looked inquisitively at the two newcomers. Sobok: Good morning, T'Lil. Sobok stopped, leaning on his cane and staring at T'Lil. Sirok stood behind him. Sirok: Mother. :: It was his brief greeting. :: T’Lil considered the sight before her the way some would review a shipping manifest. Her son, home for the first time in many years, was here in the company of his grandfather. She noticed the tiny imperfections age had left upon her sons features, along with his disagreeably emotional greeting. She noticed everything, but made no comment beyond a simple reply. T’Lil: Son. Sirok: What is the status of Sopeg? T’Lil: Unchanged. His biological functions are being sustained efficiently. His injuries have been evaluated by the Vulcan Medial Institutes Dean of Neurosurgery. What can be done has been done. Your arrival here is another matter entirely. T’Lil arched an eyebrow, her gaze landing on her son with the weight of Mount Seleya, a sliver of genuine concern flashing through her mind. Her son had been among emotional species for far too long. Sobok: I know there is a lot to catch up on. But my physical condition is not adequate to do it at the entrance, standing up... Can we enter? A long moment passed before T’Lil replied. Even the wind was still and silent. T’Lil: You may enter. Sobok: Where is S’Vec? Where is my son? T’Lil: S’Vec is where he is expected to be, running the organization this family has maintained for generations. Her emphasis on the word generations was subtle but the jab was sharp. Sobok’s irresponsibility had disrupted the work of centuries and led to her son's needless dalliance with Starfleet. As T'Lil spoke Sobok slowly walked to a wide couch, where he slowly sat down. And he did not respond until he had made that slow heavy movement. Sirok kept an eye on his grandfather in case he needed help, since he had arrived at the Thor he had clearly noticed how he was finding it more difficult to walk. Sobok: And he has done a great job. Despite making risky bets. :: Sobok glanced at Sirok for a moment before turning his gaze back to T'Lil, remarking on the situation they were now in. :: Sirok raised an eyebrow slightly, not quite understanding what bet Sobok was referring to. The young engineer had long since removed himself from any discussion of family and its activities. He had focused all his efforts on his Starfleet career. T’Lil: His time is in exceedingly short supply, as is mine. I will inform him of your presence…::she took a long look at Sirok, and then at Sobok:: You may wait. Sobok kept his gaze on T'Lil. And remained silent for a moment, letting the sound of some bird and the distant drones fill the room. Sobok: Well, we will wait, when you reach a certain age it becomes an habit. But at other ages time is exceedingly short, so let's take advantage of it. For example I can tell you that your second son achieved the rank of Lieutenant and Chief Engineer of one of the most modern ships in the Fleet in a single year of service. A much faster promotion than I had at the time. Sirok fell thinking that he would not be given importance he saw no point in informing his parents of his progress in Starfleet, or even what ship he was serving on. But Sobok did not make that comment gratuitously, the defective son now held a position of importance in a respected organization.He was not just the son of S'Vec anymore. Sirok: It has been a matter of circumstances, although rebuilding a ship almost from scratch has been an experience from which I have been able to learn significantly. Sirok did not try to be modest, it was what he thought of his rapid rise as he believed he still had a lot to learn. If T’Lil was proud, or impressed, or even the smallest bit respectful of her son's achievements, none of it showed on her face. If anything registered, it was a slight deepening of her scowl at the thought of her son risking himself needlessly, and in a pursuit as foolish as Starfleet. T’Lil: I am gratified to learn the son of S’Vec is now a skilled mechanic. It is certain to reflect highly on our esteemed family. Her tone implied the opposite. Sirok: Is the Romulan refugee colony progressing properly? His entire family had always been strong supporters of the Unification between Romulus and Vulcan. When Hobus went supernova and Romulus was destroyed, they offered several of their lands to create settlements for refugees. Not just to take in temporary refugees, but to make them permanent residents on Vulcan. Sirok held his family's efforts in that direction in high respect and believed that this was the future for his planet and his people. A minute sigh escaped T’Lil’s lips. T’Lil: It is progressing. I believe it is premature to determine if it is doing so properly. Reintegration after millennia of distrust is a complex endeavor. One in which you could assist, son. Sirok raised an eyebrow slightly. As Sobok kept his eyes on T'Lil he foresaw what he was going to say. Sirok: I have participated in some first contacts, but my diplomatic skills are not very good, at least with beings who are driven by their emotions. :: To logical beings, the young engineer performed as expected even by his family. :: T’Lil: I have made what arrangements seemed logical to me so that our family can achieve its goals, efficiently. I do not see why either of you would object. Sirok: I will try to help if possible, mother. Sobok looked at his grandson. As a good follower of Surak he felt no pride in his relative, but his grandson though naive, seemed praiseworthy to him. Sobok: I have never meddled in your handling of these matters. But if you saw it necessary I would consider interfering. T’Lil: Sopeg’s injury leaves our family in a challenging position, one to which we must adapt. So we shall. Your wedding is scheduled two days hence. ::T’Lil glanced at the Starfleet uniform in dissatisfaction.:: You will dress in something more befitting our people. Sirok watched his mother for a moment. Sirok: the Starfleet uniform is perfectly suitable for such a ceremony, as it is in a multitude of other options. Although that is a trivial detail. So far you have not sought out a wife for me, and the difference in doing so now as opposed to when it was due is that I have a duty to perform. Sobok said nothing, on the one hand his grandson was right. But biologically speaking he needed a mate. Due to Vulcan physiology his life would be in danger when the time came if he didn't have someone to share it with. T’Lil: Your logic is flawed, son. I have sought out a wife for you and all the arrangements have been made. There is only the ceremony remaining, and that requires your presence. Sirok: May I know with whom you intend to marry me? T’Lil: Her name is Rekika, and she has completed all the necessary arrangements to my satisfaction. Sobok raised an eyebrow slightly, it was not the response he expected. Sirok in appearance remained unchanged. Though his family, who knew him well knew that he struggled to keep his feelings contained and in control, with relative success. So it was Sobok who kept asking questions, trying to make the young man maintain as much dignity as possible. Sobok: Do they know Sirok's condition? It is a very difficult situation for the chosen one. :: Part of the reason why such an agreement had not really been sought until now. :: T’Lil: In this instance, his deficiency will not be a detriment to the union. Your intended is one of our long separated Romulan cousins and her expectations are already quite low. Sobok: Be that as it may, the agreement should not affect Sirok's Starfleet career. T’Lil’s expression hardened and a room normally exposed to desert breezes became suddenly colder. T’Lil: I do not recall seeking your council or input on the matter, Sobok. T’Lil glanced back to her son, the lowly starfleet engineer. A small part of a small system, one of questionable value and enormous personal risk. T’Lil could see the logic in the pursuit for others, but not for her family, and certainly not her son. Sobok: It is one thing to adapt to the situation and another to ruin his career, which is being successful. Besides, you are already used to having an absent family member. Another one is not going to change the situation. :: Sobok had known T'Lil for many years and at all times avoided reacting to any comment. Although it was well known that the old Vulcan was more protective of Sirok than any other member of his family. :: T’Lil: Sirok has an obligation to fulfill for this family, and the needs of the many should always outweigh the needs of the one. He will come to appreciate this in time. Sirok kept quiet. Until that moment, observing the not-so-veiled dialectical conflict between his elders. Sirok: I will do as I am asked, if she accepts me. :: He barely managed not to say "and my condition". :: But as Sobok has expressed, I will maintain my Starfleet career for the time being. Consider it my training for the position you want me to take if Sopeg does not recover. T’Lil’s lips, which had never been especially emotive, pressed into a line so thin they seemed to disappear entirely. She disapproved and would work to make the arrangement ultimately untenable, but for the present her goal had been achieved. Her son would wed, and their bond with the emerging Romulan families would grow stronger, and their own family would grow in influence and respect. T’Lil stood and prepared to leave. T’Lil: It is gratifying to discover you have not entirely lost your discipline, son. Your responsibilities to the family are paramount. So long as those are dispensed properly, you other conduct is your business and ::T’Lil glared daggers at Sobok:: no one else's. I will take my leave of you now. T’Lil offered her hand in the ta’al, but turned and exited before either man had even gotten out of their chair. Sobok watched as T'Lil left and then looked at his grandson. Sobok: Are you sure of your decision? Sirok: I am the emotional one of this family. It is normal for me to make an illogical decision. Yet I cannot find a better one. Sobok: Neither do I, for the moment. The old Vulcan looked out the window. The landscape he saw was different from the one he remembered from his childhood. Now it was a sumptuous place, even the trees looked strong and lush. The irrigation system and the care of the land were being used with meticulous precision. When he was a child the crops, although sufficient, seemed rickety compared to what he saw now. The house they had was being expanded and renovated from the ruin his grandfather had. A person who practically lived in hiding because he belonged to the Syrranite movement. That house was demolished by his son to build the current one. It was much more modern and served as a control center for all his operations. Sobok stood up with great effort, leaning heavily on the cane. Sobok: Sirok, help me get to my room. It has been a long trip, I need to rest. Then I will let you free, I am sure you have a lot to do. He doubted that the family chosen by his son and daughter-in-law had the disaffection for politics that Sirok had. Sirok: Yes grandfather. :: he said showing her his arm for support. :: At a very slow pace and with short steps they both headed for the room they had prepared for the old vulcan on the first floor. =============================== T’Lil of Vulcan Matron of House Sobok V239509GT0 & Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10

A bit of context because this sim deserves it. This series of sims are based on the premise that "Teller has a Vulcan katra (Sern) in his head and it's not where it should be". Obviously, that leads to problems, so the inevitable "let's see if we can find that katra and get it out of his head" is compulsory. What does that give us? A mind-melt, a guided tour through little vignettes of the character's career and previous life, intermingled and confused and at the same time delightful and amusing. My perception may be a little biased in this matter, but I think it's a great representation of something we've seen in several star trek series, and it's always a fascinating story. thanks for this @Geoffrey Teller I can't wait to see where we go next. ((Chief Engineers Office, USS Veritas, 2396)) Teller: What do you mean, my fault? Why is it always my fault? Alieth: Usually a meld can be guided into the core of someone else's mind. It often takes the form of a library, or a household and one only has to look for the correct book or unlock the required door to find out what is sought. Geoff considered the idea and looked around with fresh eyes, somehow no longer surprised. The Veritas had been a home for him, and one that had nurtured him in ways he was still discovering. He'd made lifelong friends and celebrated their successes. He'd seen the officer he wanted to be in the people around him. Alieth: But since you are a calamity incarnate, your brain is not wired as a small house but as a whole engineering deck full of Jefferies tubes in which everything is interconnected.:: She let out a small sigh:: This is going to take a while. Geoff laughed, a little bit too delighted at the prospect. Teller: Are you kidding, this is great! I haven't gotten to crawl around in the jefferies tubes for months, and I could take you through the ones on this ship blindfolded. I should've let you go wandering around in my brain earl...::Geoff stopped midsentence, his hand going to his temples. The stabbing pain behind his eyes was getting worse.:: ...alright maybe we'll skip the grand tour this time. Alieth crossed to his old desk, lifting a Brew Continuum mug and inspecting the coffee ring left behind on his desk. Otherwise, his desk was unusually clean, not covered in the routine assortment of PADDs and reports that typically accumulated on the real one. Alieth: Are you aware that the fact that even the core of your mind has some sort of caffeine shrine speaks very poorly of your restraint with these brews? We are going to have to deal with that when we get out of here. Geoff snorted, but the look Alieth gave him was grave. As his wonder at their surroundings passed, a feeling of wrongness had begun seeping in around the edges of his perception. The lack of crew had been jarring, but there was a strange unnatural stillness to everything. Teller: When we get out of here, after we find Sern, right? Which we're going to do....how, exactly? Alieth: I do not know, even though you belong to a telepathically null species, you are like a kind of telepathic sponge, and I have little control over all this. Geoff held up his hands defensively, fairly certain he'd been insulted. Again. Alieth: The plan is to go out there, open a door and see where it leads, and hopefully we will find some indication of where Sern's katra might be, maybe something misplaced, or not as you remember. But I have no way of where to start on…. ::waving her hands around::: ...this, so you are the one who should lead us. Teller: I just want to be sure I've got this straight. We are going to wander around in the hope we accidentally trip over Sern? Is that about the size of it? She gave a very, very slow nod. Alieth: Trial and error is an apt description. Geoff shrugged and turned to face the office doors that would lead out to Main Engineering. The Warp core would be on his right, the main workstation table to his left, and the Engineering lab off to the side behind reenforced doors. He knew every jefferies tube access point on both floors, and exactly how to get anywhere on the ship from here. Teller: Well, fine, so how do we get started? Alieth: You just need to get out of the office. Geoff stepped forward, the doorway parting silently. His foot stepped down but the deck was gone. ((First Landing Park, Tuckerberg, Archer IV, 2376)) His foot found soil and grass, and the sky opened above them to just the right shade of blue. Flowers he hadn't smelled in years tickled his nose, and it was a struggle to keep his eyes from watering. The wind came down from mountains, as it always had, cool and pleasant on the warm spring day. A day that had passed almost twenty years earlier. Alieth: Does this place look familiar? Geoff fought to keep the lump out of his throat. He could feel his memories of the day, his emotions. The love and simple delight of childhood. It was nearly overwhelming. Teller: Yes...this is First Landing Park. It was near our house...we came here all the time. Alieth: Makes sense. ::Her gaze fell into the small group:: So they are...? Teller: Mom and Dad, and my older sister Sarah. We'd go to an old tree, down near the south end of the park. There's an urban legend that it was the first tree Porthos ever peed on, it's supposed to be good luck. My parents thought that made it a good spot to picnic. ::Geoff could feel tears at the corners of his eyes, and his voice grew quiet:: They were right. Geoff stepped forward, lost in the moment, longing to join his family in the distance. He would've been gone forever if a strong hand hadn't closed around his wrist and stopped him cold, breaking the dangerous trance Teller had fallen into. Her voice helped to pull him back and ground him. The pain behind his eyes had become an almost blinding pressure. Alieth: We will not find Sern here, Geoff, so we should leave. :: She then made a pause and glanced at the plain expression on his face.:: But I can help you to come back later, when we get all this sorted out... Geoff shook his head. This moment was best left to the past, a halcyon day that would stay forever green in his rememberings. Teller: Lets get out of here. Alieth nodded and they stepped forward in unison, the hiss of a starship door closing behind them. Immediately, the hairs on the back of Ensign Geoffrey Teller's neck stood on end. oO No. Oo ((U.S.S. Artemis, 2395)) The endless corridors yawned before him once again, and Geoffrey Teller was standing inside a dreaded memory. He'd been newly assigned to the Veritas, on his first mission as Acting Chief Engineer, and it was as close to death as he'd ever come. Computer: =/\= All Hands, Prepare for Slipstream in t-minus Six Minutes. Warning. Slipstream corridor instability detected. Warning. Do not engage Slipstream drive. Warning. Automatic Safety Interlocks Non-Responsive. Warning. Do not engage Slipstream drive. Warning. Slipstream jump in t-minus five minutes and fifty seconds. Warning.... =/\= The lighting and the drone of the computer voice were all exactly as they had been, and Teller felt a dangerous panic creeping into his thoughts. Alieth: What...? Is this the Veritas again? Teller: No..no...we're...we're aboard the Artemis...we have to...::the pain behind his eyes magnified tenfold, collapsing him to his knees.:: We have to get to the shuttlebay...the ship is going to explode... Geoff felt a new pain, a sudden horrible jarring in his chest. The first time, he'd broken a rib trying to escape this ship, and it had punctured his lung. Before Taz Shandres strapped him into the only flyable thing left aboard, he'd begun coughing up blood. As he was now. Geoff looked at the crimson splatter in his palm and began pulling himself forward, desperate to escape. Teller: We have to get to the shuttlebay Taz! Come on! It's our only hope! Alieth: Response Geoff was jogging down the hall, picking up momentum even as his head felt like bursting. He was lost in the memory, his mind solely focused on flight. He had to get out. Computer: =/\= All Hands, Prepare for Slipstream in t-minus Six Minutes. Warning. Slipstream corridor instability detected. Warning. Do not engage Slipstream drive. Warning. Automatic Safety Interlocks Non-Responsive. Warning. Do not engage Slipstream drive. Warning. Slipstream jump in t-minus five minutes. Warning.... =/\= Teller: You can't give me an order, now come on...::Geoff lurched to his feet, moving as quickly as he could.::...we have to... Alieth: Response A strong hand was on his shoulder, keeping him from moving forward, impeding his escape. Teller: Dammit Taz! Don't have time for... Alieth: Response Geoff felt himself falling, tumbling away from the deckplates and hallways of the Artemis. He landed somewhere worse. ((New Risa Resort and Spa, Limbo, ~2395)) Lt. Jg. Geoffrey Teller looked around in horror at the sunbaked survivors encampment that had come to be jokingly called the New Risa Resort and Spa. An agency from the far future had tried to remove the Veritas from the timeline, and had arranged for the crew to be marooned here, on this tropical moon where time moved more quickly than the outside universe. The crew experienced months of relative time while only moments passed in the outside universe. It had been a special hell for a Chief Engineer, where little technology worked and he was focused on digging ditches and building an irrigation system. They had been some of the most difficult months in his life, and they had passed in an eyeblink. But his uniform was tattered, and his face felt itchy with the thin scraggly beard he'd accumulated. Geoff lost his temper and began yelling at the air. Teller: Sern! If you want a slideshow of all my personal traumas, subscribe to Taz Shandres's channel on Fednet like everyone else. Enough of this! Come out you irritating son of a b... Alieth: Response Geoff tried to focus but found it impossible. Teller: I can't...it's...I can barely think. It's not...it's not going away. Alieth: Response [[Tag! & TBC]] =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0

Exploring the relationships that define a character are some of the most difficult sims to do well but Lieutenant @Alieth & Ensign Saja Jehe make this heartfelt and poignant moment between two characters come alive. From the characterizations to the small details in their signatures, this little window on the private lives of those lovably logical Vulcans is a real delight. =============================================================== [[Flat complex 26, first floor, Chi-ree, Xial, Vulcan]] Alieth stared at the door for a while, so long that she could have melted it simply with the sheer power of her anger. Or so she would have liked. She clenched her fists at her sides, clenched her jaw and made up her mind. Three determined steps allowed her to cross the tiny room until she reached the window. She deftly opened it without a single sound, with the efficiency of habit, and let the night air into the room. It brought the scent of rain and the small flowers that festooned the small garden at the entrance to the building. The tiny vulcan bent down and took off her shoes and, with great care, swung one leg over the window sill. She groped her bare foot along the roof tiles, until she found the broken one and dodged it, leaning her weight on the one next to it. Only then did she pushed herself up with a little hop and leapt out of the window. With her arms spread out at her sides, she strode quietly along the small roof until she reached the corner of the building. The bulk of the building blocked out the light of the city behind her and allowed a view of the night sky over the desert, studded with stars. She sat there, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the roof. If she chose to, she could reach the ground and leave that place. It was barely a jump of four or five metres. Besides, she'd done it so many times, she knew she could do it without any real trouble. In fact, it was more than likely that the boots she kept hidden nearby were still in place. She could call for transport to the Thor and the next day... Saros: I see some things never change, ko-fu. The voice was - unsurprisingly - calm, and came from around the corner of the building, an older Vulcan male stepping out along the same roof that wrapped around their flat. He stood with utter disregard for the height, and semi-precarious nature of their vantage point, and as unsurprising as his calm, in his hands he cradled a cup of warm tea. Alieth: Sa-mekh…. Saros: I sense you are troubled, ko-fu. There are many pressures on you, even here, even now. Especially now, no? He did not smile, of course. And yet, something in the tone, calm and measured, was designed to set her at ease. The effectiveness of that, however, was debatable. Alieth: Mother's fixation on pointing out the wrongdoings she perceives in my former actions do not help. Saros: I would say simply that this is unfortunate. ::With care, he settled down next to her, allowing his own feet to hang off the edge.:: And your journey to meet with our pid-kom? The young woman averted her eyes from the sky and glanced to the left, where the hills met the desert, there where the old manor houses stood, around the original oasis on which the city had been founded. Alieth: Tomorrow… Saros: So soon. She nodded lightly. Alieth: It is better to deal with this as soon as possible, Sern's katra is very weak at this moment but nonetheless it is having an impact on his vessel. If I cannot get some help for them soon... Saros: Then there is risk to both Sern’s katra, and the man within whom the spirit dwells. Measured speed in this case is only logical. Alieth: Indeed. She looked away and turned to look at her father, his serene face more aged than the last time she had been home. The silence hung in the air for a while, full of unspoken things. Alieth: How has all this been for you? Since the wedding, since... since Sern died. For a long moment, the older Vulcan did not speak. His lips pursed slightly, as if he was carefully considering his words. Saros: It has not been without difficulties, though life is rarely so kind as to be completely calm, no matter how much we may...wish it. ::There was not a smile, but a crinkling around the eyes that gave the impression there in.:: We as a people are fond of saying ‘it is agreeable to see you again’. But in honesty, it is a relief to see you again. It is regrettable that the circumstances are as dire as they are. The frown that had been on Alieth's face visibly relaxed and her stern countenance somehow became more peaceful. Alieth: Your absence from my life has been regrettable. The young woman leaned to the side, and laid her head on her father's shoulder. Alieth: Even if you still refuse to share your tea... Saros: I am old, child, not senile. ::He sipped the tea, slowly, arching an eyebrow as he did.:: They stayed there for a while, as the night grew darker and the stars brighter and somewhere in the mountains a Sehlat roared in defiance. Behind them, inside the house, their own pet Sehlat growled gravely, evidently insulted. Alieth: I will endeavour to settle matters with Mother, if I can manage to get all this fixed. But I need the pid-kom's authorization to approach a suitable Healer, if I can get her consent. Saros: Settling matters will be...what is the humans are fond of saying? A...two way street. You are not the only one that must make the effort. Regardless... Pausing to sip from his tea, Alieth’s father took a moment to let those words settle in before pressing forward to the other, somewhat more time sensitive matter before the pair. Saros: Would it not simply be more efficient to ask pid-kom to perform the fal-tor-plak? She is not without some small talent in the matters herself. There was the slightest twitch at the corners of Saros’ mouth, as his ever present penchant for understatement once again shown forth. Alieth: I suspect that if pid-kom were the one to pull his katra out of the Commander's brain, he would be permanently impaired. Humans are so fragile.... One greying eyebrow rose slightly on the old man's forehead. Saros: I begin to see wisdom beyond your years, ko-fu. ::He sipped the tea, savoring the flavor as he turned his gaze to the garden below.:: but your Commander has managed thus far. He is perhaps sturdier than one might expect. Alieth:I have asked Meimei to assist me, as she has experience in dealing with Clan leaders as well as her training as a counsellor can be beneficial in her capacity as an advisor. Saros: An interesting choice, ko-fu.I am sure that she will only be an asset. How has she fared of late? I sense that you may know more of her well being than myself.::His mastery of understatement persisted.:: The question made her reach a hand to her shoulder and rub gently at the body decoration she had acquired thanks to her krei's friends. Alieth: She has been behaving herself pretty well since the brig and the tattoos. Saros: ...One would think that I have seen enough years in this world to not be surprised by such words. I understand them, individually, and yet, taken on as a whole, I sit here, surprised. I am not so old that my hearing has failed me, yet comprehension is ....::He reached up, grasping with one hand at the empty air.:: Just out of reach. She was careful to suppress the greenish tone that gradually crept up to her ears. For the most part. Alieth: Sa-mekh, you really do not want to hear about my participation in that whole incident... Saros: A first. You perhaps show more wisdom than I. And yet, as your Father, I have an obligation to tread where weaker men may fear. A brig? Tattoos? Enlighten me, ko-fu. Alieth: It all began with a heated debate about the merits and innumerable flaws of a Klingon scientist's research project. Perhaps there was a certain degree of intoxication in the whole affair, as living with humans leads to the exposure of substances, harmless for them, that produce some unexpected effects on Vulcan physiology. Saros: I dread to ask which sucrose laden confection you came into contact with. I take it that given the nature of such events, completely unexpected, of course, things deteriorated? Alieth: At one point there might have been a few punches involved. However, as you can expect, I merely fought in self-defence. Saros: But of course. Only in defense of yourself and others. ::A pause.:: I take it you won? A mischievous sparkle glinted in the young doctor's eyes. Alieth: Sa-mekh, let me question your senility if you are unaware of the answer to that query... In the distance, a lone cry split the night once more, adding an ominous tone to the conversation, though Saros paid it no real head. Saros: I suppose that is irrelevant. It does no harm to ask pid-kom to arrange access to a more specialized mind Healer to oversee the transfer of the katra. I do not foresee any great difficulty on that subject. She winced a bit. Alieth: Provided that she will not contemplate prosecution for the theft of her grandson's katra. Or that she refuses to let the Memorial Halls of the Clan be tarnished with traces of a human soul, or that even though everything unfolds under the most favourable conditions, it will be too late and some or neither of them could be saved. She had many more reasons why everything could go horribly wrong, but something made her fall silent. Straightened up again, the brief moment of familiarity over, she looked at her father's face. Saros: I did not say there would be no difficulties at all. ::He allowed a finger to unfurl from the earthenware mug, wagging ever so slightly.:: Much as come to pass since you last walked among these sands and warm winds, my child. The young woman suppressed a snort, which didn't make any sound but made her nostrils twitch a bit. Alieth: You always used to tell me that hardly anything changes on Vulcan. Saros: This is true. And things have changed. In the grand scope of the History of Vulcan since the coming of Surak...both can be true at once. A fascinating mental exercise. Again, that not quite smile graced his face, and his shoulders gave a shrug that would, to a non vulcan, be nigh on imperceptible. Alieth: In this, you are correct. As you often do. Saros: It is gratifying to hear you say that, ko-fu. Though I am far from…infallible. Something I might not have been aware of in my youth. Alieth: Are you suggesting that I should exercise moderation, sa-mekh? A mischievous sparkle flashed in the young woman's eyes, but she hid it swiftly, her gaze again on the distant horizon. Alieth: Or are you just about to regale me with a tale of your youth, old man? You know I have always cherished those. Alieth was well aware that Saros could not exactly be labelled an old man. Though he had surpassed a hundred years of age during Alieth's childhood, he could hardly be considered middle-aged by the standards of their kind. Nevertheless, she would honour the new silver in his hair. Saros: Perhaps I spoke too soon about the wisdom you have gained, my child. ::The eyebrow twitched up ever so slightly.:: The escapades of my own irascible youth might give you some insight, however. Very well. At that the older - if hardly elder - Vulcan squared his shoulders, pulling in upon himself the look of someone searching through memories. Saros: Let us ruminate upon the merits of friendship and loyalty then, in the face of clan doctrion... The night grew darker, and the stars lighter, until the first rays of dawn forced them back to the reality of the coming day's events. [[THE END]] OOC: sa-mekh → father ko-fu → daughter pid-kom → Matriarch, Female that leads a Clan fal-tor-plak → ritual transfer of a katra from one keeper to another, or a katric ark krei → cousin- female, a female relative descended from siblings of parents or earlier line of descent ================================= Saros of Chi-Ree Chi-Ree Regional Tea Master Father T239712JS0 ================================= & ================================= Alieth daughter of Saros Chief Medical Officer Wild Child E239702A10 =================================

There are times when reality and fiction intermingle a little bit and our characters allow us to articulate and cope with things we otherwise wouldn't be able to. Today I saw a little piece of @Alora DeVeau's soul here and, as I expected, it is deliciously beautiful, like her prose, despite the sorrowfulness that permeates these words. Here for you my friend ((USS Thor - Alieth’s and Peri’s Quarters)) Everything was fine. The computer sounded the alarm and again and again until the dark eyes of the one occupant finally opened and Peri pushed herself up to rub at her eyes. A moment later, her soft command hushed the continual noise and silence descended. With the absence of her roommate, there was no one to worry about waking, but Peri made little sound as she shifted from under the covers and swung her feet over the side of her bed. Only the soft hush of fabric, the gentle hum of the sonic shower, the tinkling flow of the water as she brushed her teeth followed her as she moved about her quarters and proceeded to prepare for the day. Making her way back to her bed, Peri dropped to her knees and began to pull out something stored beneath. Another chirp from the computer made her stop and she straightened as she turned her gaze to check the time. Then she did a double take. It was almost time for her shift to start! How had she lost track of time? Had it slipped so quickly by that she’d simply mistaken the amount she had for opportunity? Whatever the reason, it did not matter, for she could not spare a moment to do what she most wanted lest she be derelict in her duty. Jumping to her feet, Peri almost rammed into her doors she was so quick to rush from her quarters and run down the hall. With the lift doors firmly shut, she had no choice but to stop and wait, her teeth worrying her lip, hands playing at one another, until they finally parted and she darted inside. When she arrived on the proper deck, Peri made a beeline for her lab where she found others already at work. Cheeks aflame, she quickly made her way to the console. No one remarked about her tardiness. No one hardly looked at her to admonish her. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she set about looking through the latest data that had been gathered by the sensors. It was all right. Everything was fine. Looking to the console, she switched to a different pane. There, in between the lines of information, marked by an alternating array of curves and straight lines, Peri caught her reflection. Black hair had been pulled back into a standard bun, one of her usual ways of wearing it while working. In her haste, a few strands had wriggled free and played over her cheeks, but she ignored them. Her face was muted and blurred by the screen, her visage more like a shadow than a reflection. Glancing down, she input another series of parameters. When she lifted her gaze, another reflective figure stood to the side just behind her. The red curly hair was kept at bay with a hairband, the sweet heart-shaped face displayed with a smile. In the dusk of the monitor, the eyes were shadows, the warmth of their hazel left only to the imagination. With a gasp, Peri whirled around, only to find herself alone. It had been a shadow, a bare whisper of a memory come to the mind’s eye upon that day of all days, when the eyes yearned to see and the heart ached to remember. Taking a deep breath, Peri turned and peered at the screen, but all that was left was her own face marred by the contents that poured over it. Only her thoughts, only her imagination, projecting something that wasn’t there. That presence that she missed so dearly, that face that had greeted her with a smile almost every day since their first meeting, it was just a memory, a wish that would never be granted. But it was okay. It would be okay. The chirp of the computer seemed so cheerful in comparison to the thoughts that pervaded the young scientist’s attention. Attempts were made to focus, and eventually waves of reflection and contemplation were swept into a corner, not to be disposed of, but simply placed upon a shelf for further introspection, but later, when the demands of her duty could be set aside, properly attended to and well done. She kept them at bay, those unwanted recollections that seemed so intent to haunt her. They thrust out into the forefront at her meal time, for her mind had been left to wander, no longer distracted by the intrinsic luminosity of stars or extragalactic distance of galaxies beyond their own. Peri’s own turmoil reared its head, unwilling to be silenced in the stillness of her brief respite, and it’s unpleasant attendance spurred her to rush through an otherwise pleasant fare, left half eaten in the wake of the unrest the objectionable visitor had stirred. Her own internal galaxy had been invaded, a recurring reminder printed upon every data stamped with the date, every mention made of time. Time had come to a stop for some, but for others, it continued, and those left behind could only reflect upon the ravages of the past. And yet, as much as time could plunder, it could also heal. The sting was still present, perhaps more so on that particular day, but the retrospection was, perhaps, a little easier than before, not quite so overwhelming, not so consuming. To be sure it remained, ever present, little things bringing to mind, more obvious than on other days, but the deep breaths cooled the flames of unrest and sorrow. They still existed, still habited the heart, but the power they held over it had lessened. The ability to move through the veil they threw over the might thinned, and life could seem almost normal. Normality continued through the rest of the afternoon. Her attention thus occupied by the calculations of the mass of stars, the distance and chemical makeup of nebulous matter, the gravitational force of a nearby black hole, all these tasks took up room, leaving little chance for those memories to distract from the course of her obligations. Time continued as it always did, passing by until she was left with a reminder and her shift had come to an end. Usually, Peri would linger, too intrigued by the prospects and information that the Thor’s powerful sensors collected and displayed, but she had a task to perform. One she would have completed had she not lost track earlier that morning. She would not allow herself to renege in the ritual, and so allowing herself only a few moments extra to make up for what she’d lost in the morning, Peri excused herself and returned to her room. Upon arrival, her roommate had still not returned, a fortuitous opportunity that would allow her time, time alone to focus upon what she had to do. What she wished to do. Returning to the small space beneath her bed, she tugged from it a box a couple of feet wide, and of a similar length, it’s depth about half that. From within, she pulled out a small candelabra with five positions, each allowing a single candle - those residing inside the container as well - but only one was chosen. The holder was arched, the middle setting the highest, and it was upon this one that particular candle was placed. Breathing in, then out several times, Peri clasped the lighter and brought a spark to life, then used it to light the wick. The fire took to its new residence quite gleefully, dancing despite the lack of a breeze. A candle lit, a flame dancing in place of the one that had been snuffed out, the warmth of its glow filled the dimness of her room, cutting through the shadows and adding a cheerful disposition. With a small smile, Peri bowed her head, her words moving, her voice soft as she uttered familiar words. Katsim: Raka-ja ut shala morala... ema bo roo kana... uranak... ralanon Ayna... propeh va nara ehsuk shala-kan vunek… She had spoken those words upon the death of her closest friend, and then again a year later. Now, two years had past, yet she expressed them once more, though time had put more distance between the past and present. Though the pain had dulled, or perhaps she had become better at wearing it, she had promised she would say them, again and again, every year, on that very day. A reminder of what had happened. A reminder of what she had. A reminder of what she’d lost. Settled upon her knees, Peri stared into that flickering light, so gleeful on its perch. Alive, much like the soul that was lit for had been. Since their meeting, Ayna had taken it upon herself to be a shelter for her, a child of two worlds, trapped between them, uncertain of where she should place her feet. For Ayna, it hadn’t mattered, and her place had been at her side, friends, close as sisters. With Ayna, things had gotten better. She had made them better. And now? And now she was gone. Two years gone. Another shaky breath followed and her eyes shut, cutting out the light that tried so desperately to shine in that darkness. In her mind's eye, she could see it, see the flame in its gentle brilliance, a reflection of the brilliance of the life Ayna had led and so willingly shared with her friend. Yet, in the hollows of that distance, in the darkness that followed, her presence was still there, a part of the universe, dancing with the Prophets among the stars. Peri could almost hear her laughter, her gleeful countenance forming in the foremost parts of her thoughts. And though the ache painfully clenched about her heart, and tears trickled down her cheeks, she knew it would be all right. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine. Because Ayna had always known it would be. So she had believed. So Peri believed. It would be fine. She would be fine. ~~*~~ In memory of Kirsti Andrea Anderson, June 02, 1964-March 3, 2019 -- Ensign Katsim Science Officer USS Thor M239008AD0

OOC: I just love Cheesecake. The dog...and the dessert. But I especially love how this sim ended. [[ U.S.S Thor, Deck 6, Senior Enlisted Mess Hall. ]] The biped held the delicious thing in front of her for a moment but then, to Cheesecake's despair, he pushed it away. Even worse, he said the forbidden word. "No." Not only that but he repeated it several times. This was, no doubt, a definitive verdict that condemned her to an eternity of not being able to taste whatever it was that the biped didn't want her to have, which was, to begin with, tragic, and to follow, unfair. As every dog, Cheesecake was aware that rules were more like guidelines and so, they could be pushed a little in the right direction, namely, in the direction that would get her what she wanted, if she was a really good girl, and she pulled her ears back, put her snout down, and gave him THE LOOK. Of course, Cheesecake had had to up the level THE LOOK since her handler was a pointy-eared biped and she had learned the hard way that pointy-eared bipeds required a LOT MORE coaxing. But she had certainly picked up the lesson very well, so the other biped who used to live with her handler always, ALWAYS fell under the spell of THE LOOK. Of course, she proved victorious in the staring contest. Kerr: Access favorite replicator options for Crewman First Class Watanabe. Wantanabe: Boorf Boorf! Computer: Crewman First Class Watanabe's list of food preferences, Cheesecake contains 1348 items, listed chronologically as: Canine kibble number 33, socks, Vulcan meditation candle oil type e49b, miscellaneous bone remnants, cheese (non descripted), tofu, batbird soup Hasoor VII variety, medium quality paper, standard mid-sized padd, electronic components for medical tricorder parts 458 to 567, kibble number 45, cat kibble number 2, standard mattress stuffing.... Kerr: Computer, proceed with top recommendation. Computer =/\= Unable to comply. Replicators offline. =/\= The biped shook his head and Cheesecake tilted it. She took her job as a therapy dog to heart and she knew exactly when someone was down, so she was more than willing to help. Kerr: Alright. Let me get this filter swapped out, and then we’ll get some lunch. Then her new best friend left the thing away from her, with all the gestures that indicated that he really wasn't going to pass it along because he wanted it just for him, and utter display that indicated that he didn't like to share. Cheesecake pouted ruefully. She loved to share, sharing was caring. Especially if other people shared with her. Kerr: We’re going to leave that there. (Slowly backing away.) Jussssst theeeereeee. That’s where it’s staying. It’s not going to be touched. Agreed? Wantanabe: soft whining Then, the biped climbed on one of those things that bipeds used to reach places and... disappeared. More or less. But he kept talking anyway, so Cheesecake remained there, wagging her tail cheerfully every time the biped uttered a word. Kerr: (Head deep in the filter unit of replicator two) Just got to align the cartridge. There was a loud snap and click, and a tail wagged for a few seconds. Kerr: (Leaning further into the filter unit) Then twist and lock to connect the sensors. Got to use the hexkey to secure it and ... Wantanabe: (In earnest) Woof Woof A hand came out from a box with something that looked suspiciously like a stick and, for an moment, Cheesecake stood on all four paws, awestruck (and flattered) by the sudden session of FETCH. Kerr: Gross! No fetch. Disappointed whimper, rear on floor. The scene played out over and over again for a few minutes until, finally, Cheesecake stretched out on the floor, rested her head between her forepaws and... she snoozed, the purpose of her mission forgotten, except for the fact that the biped somehow needed her support. Only later, when the speakers in all the corridors blew an annoying honk and the lights changed in two different degrees of colours that, of course, a dog could not fully differentiate, Cheesecake woke up. It was then, and only then, that the big mastiff remembered a number of things: That she had made a new friend, that really needed to have someone listen to him, so she was going to have to visit him more often. That this noise meant work and that therefore she should head to a sickbay. That she should remember to not get in the way. For real. And that she had to help. So, without dawdling for too long, Cheesecake barked a farewell and, just as she had entered, she left the mess hall. Her surprise was complete when she found one of her favourite two-legged friends in her workplace, sprawled out on one of those things that moved bipeds around. And as one would do with good friends, she booped his hand to tell him that she was there and that, despite everything, he was not alone. [[END]] ================================= Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator /Art Director =================================

What makes this sim great is how the description of time highlights Alieth's feelings of vulnerability in this emergency situation; it's brought into painful focus with the Olympian effort needed to complete the routine and mundane act of tapping the comm badge. Really neat writing. ((Transporter Room One, Deck One, USS Thor)) Time, occasionally, gave the appearance of dilating and contracting simultaneously, without any particularly significant gravitational alteration, or any obvious anomaly. This fact, of course, had more to do with a sense of urgency and the action of hormones and neurotransmitters on the sympathetic nervous system than with what humans called general relativity, naturally, nonetheless it was a remarkable circumstance. That was one of those moments. As soon as they all fell onto the pads in a haphazard pile, the Commander rose to his feet and leaped towards the transporter controls. Alieth, in the other hand, stood up slowly, very slowly, like moving through a dense, sticky substance instead of thin air. Her eyes remained fixed on the engineer's hands, which seemed to blur over the control panel. Something rolled beside her and halted just next to her leg, and only that was what pulled her eyes off to see Peri's pale face, greyer than usual, her eyes tightly closed. The doctor was just about to kneel beside her to check her status when a voice broke the silence. Greaves: =/\= Captain Greaves to Commander Teller. Sir, I've got a nice warm seat here on the bridge with your name on it. =/\= Peri opened her eyes and Alieth’s gaze darted again to the First Officer. Teller: =/\= Standby Bridge, forgot somebody. Retargeting transporters now. =/\= That was the moment when time seemed to stretch even further. Possibly only a few seconds passed. Even less. Just a breath, long enough time before Mr. Greaves snapped out of his shock and asked the next question. Yet it seemed like minutes. Hours. Decades. Enough time for a seemingly abandoned Zet to plummet to the ground. A quick but painful death. Greaves: =/\= What do you mean we forgot one? =/\= Of course, at this point time sped up, regaining all the momentum it had lost. Teller: Clear the pad, now! They all moved quickly, as gracefully or gracelessly as they could, as the centre of the room began to pulse, to whirr, golden streaks of particles cascading from the emitters in the ceiling. And time, once more, stretched like a rubber band, dilated anew. Alieth turned to the other lieutenant. Before she spoke, she could see every detail of her face, her attentive expression, despite the weariness obscuring her eyes. The tear marks wing had left in the corner of her eyelids. The ridged nose slightly puckered, a tiny freckle over the left cheekbone that she had always noticed but had never had time to observe in detail. It took Alieth a lot of energy to break the spell of that rubbery time and raise her hand to her chest. Squeeze the combadge. It clicked lightly first, before the familiar chirp indicating that the connection had been established rang. Her throat seemed to take centuries to respond to her brain's commands. All that lifetime took just a few tenths of a second. Alieth: Alieth to Main Sickbay, send three stretchers and a trauma team to transporter room one. Salo: =/\= Roger, on route=/\= As soon as the combadge beeped a second time, she turned to her colleague. Alieth: Dr. Quen, what is your physical self-evaluation? Quen: Response Teller: =/\= Volumetric lock established, standby bridge, energizing... =/\= Alieth looked forward again. Without being aware of it, she leaned slightly forward, as the light grew brighter and brighter. And it began to solidify in the centre of the room. The lights flickered faintly. The room filled with the distinct aroma of the Zet metropolis. A long-limbed, spider-like figure curled into herself materialized in the centre of it all, barely an inch away from the reception pad. A breeze that wasn't really there hit them in the face and ruffled the curls that framed the Vulcan's visage. She was there. Nenni was safe. There was a plaintive buzzing sound and the whole complex system seemed to shut down at once. Teller: Doctors, if you're alright, please check on Ensign Katsim and Nenni. I need to...get to the..bri.. The sound caught her off guard. Her first impulse was to rush to help, but she held back for a second. The commander's crooked nose was... REALLY askew. And swollen. And splattered with so much red and purple that it would be worthy of many an artist's abstract expressionism phase. But despite its striking appearance, it did not necessarily look life-threatening. Moreover, Teller had survived a runabout falling on his head and was stubbornly back on his feet just hours later. She was sure she could survive for a few seconds while they sorted out the situation. Greaves: =/\= Response =/\= Alieth: =/\= We have her, we are all here. There will be a report on bridge in two minutes, but, effective immediately, Commander Teller is relieved of duty per medical advice. (Beat, concealing relief.) You are still in command, Captain Greaves. =/\= Greaves: =/\= Response =/\= As she was speaking, both of her teammates had lost no time and leaned over the crumpled Zet, appraising her condition.With that front covered, the Vulcan approached the collapsed first officer and crouched beside him. Katsim: Are you okay? Nozku/Quen: Response No sooner had the tiny CMO accomplished her movement when an arm rose up from behind the transporter control station, followed by a plaintive cough. Teller: =/\= Bridge...Transport..Successful. Red...Alert.... =/\= Greaves: =/\= Response =/\= Alieth: =/\= Indeed, mister Greaves =/\= At that moment, the room doors hissed open, the Orion nurse and the rest of the trauma team carrying the triage equipment as well as several floating stretchers. Soon, the entire team was examined, Nenni and Teller carefully positioned on stretchers, cortical monitors attached to their foreheads or temples. Alieth: (After pressing a hypospray on the side of the young hybrid's neck) Ensign Katsim, I would like you to report on the bridge to explain what has happened to Captain Greaves. (Turning to Deena) Dr. Quen, you are welcome to accompany her to provide your eyewitness account as well, but I will need you in sickbay soon for a reconstructive surgery. Katsim/Quen (optional Nozku/Teller): Response Alieth nodded silently before turning back to Malak. Alieth: Nurse, make sure that they reach the sickbay in good condition and, most importantly, that none of them attempt any foolishly bold attempts to make their way to the bridge. Adventure is over for the day for them. Salo: (Smiling broadly and winking ostentatiously) Of course, ma'am, even if I have to strap them to the stretcher. Perhaps there was some protest. Or an incoherent babble. But Alieth ignored them and escorted both stretchers out of the room, her attention focused on the welfare of both patients. She could only look out for them at that moment, the conclusion of the mission in the hands of Captain Kells and the staff on the bridge. But she trusted them, she had shared so much with that crew and had learned that she could rely on them. Delegating was a skill, one that every officer had to learn at some point, even if some did it sooner than others. As she entered hastily in the turbolift and the door hissed shut behind her, the Vulcan realized something: Time had resumed its usual pace and rhythm. [[Tag! & End of the Scene for Alieth]] ================================= Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator /Art Director =================================

This sim is a roller coaster of adrenaline with a perfect pace, increasing the urgence of the scene slow and steady till the cliffhanger-y end. @Geoffrey Teller Delivers again? Oh yeah he does ((Damaged Yacht, the Skies above the Zet Homeworld)) Katsim: Are...are you sure this is going to work? The craft rocked, another near miss marring the deckplate near Nenni's skull. Geoff felt that made a more convincing argument than anything he could say, stepping back from the console and working his way towards everyone else. Alieth: ::Trying to impose her voice over the wind:: It will work, Peri. ::She glanced back at the sleek, swiftly moving vehicle that was closing the distance between them::: And in any case, we will run out of alternatives pretty soon. Nozku: Now or never! We're going to be out of there sight for only a dozen seconds or so once we round the next skyscraper! They were gaining altitude rapidly before arcing back on a parabolic course that would see the craft hurtling towards one of the enormous Anroc statues that dotted the landscape. It was a small, pithy gesture, but Geoff had promised to wipe the smug sneer off Anroc's face, and he made good on his promises. Teller: We jump at the same time, we can't risk getting separated in that soup down there. Geoff could see the dense smog layer hanging over the city and clustered in close, on hand steading himself against the ships edge. With a hop, he'd be over and into the open air. He looked ahead, their 'camouflage' nearly in place. It would be a matter of seconds now. Then it would be in the hands of Teller's oldest nemesis. Physics. Quen: Response Katsim: Sure there's something else we can do? Quen: Response Geoff shook his head and put an arm on Peri's shoulder, trying to reassure the visibly frightened young woman. This mission had been unexpectedly grueling for his team and Peri had seemed hardest hit by the horrible conditions and general hopelessness. He'd find time to talk to her when this was all over, but for the moment, they had to act. The yacht shuddered from another glancing hit astern. Teller: If it makes you feel any better about it Ensign, I'm ordering you to abandon this ship. ::Geoff leaned in, lowering his voice as much as he could:: I trust this crew. That how I know it'll be ok. Geoff winked, as if he let Peri in on a secret, before setting himself firmly against the rail, hand outstretched. Alieth: While I always encourage a vigorous debate about the virtues and the innumerable deficiencies of Geoff's plans, we need to jump. NOW. Something about Alieth's voice cut through the breeze and caught Teller's ear unexpectedly. He hadn't noticed earlier, but the spritely Vulcan was almost vibrating with anticipation, eagerly looking over the side of the craft and pantomiming her dismount, subtly shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Where Peri, Quen and Nenni were all looking over the gunwale with a mixture of apprehension and dread, Alieth was visibly excited. Geoff laughed, the tension of the moment broken for him, and looked to Quen. Teller: Doc, the CMO is showing an unhealthy excitement about all this, don't you think? Quen: Response Their moment came, the tops of towers aligning to give them a few seconds of obscurity from the eyes of their pursuers. The incoming fire mercifully ceased and Geoff could feel himself going light, the craft at the very top of its arc before plummeting back downwards and away from them. If they had plotted the course right, they were at nearly 2000m now. It would take them nearly a minute to fall all the way to the ground, but Geoff hoped that would give them time to spare. Nozku: We're out of time for this! Katsim: Sir, I officially go on record that I don't like this plan. Geoff nodded and in reply, stepped to the rail, the first to jump. It had been his plan, after all. The instant updraft made Teller's eyes water before he managed to roll over, watching the rest of his team leave the yacht in a tight string behind him. Even Nenni floated freely and for a moment, everything was oddly peaceful. There was no sense of relative motion, no sensation of velocity because everything he could see was moving at the same speed. Then an Zet interceptor streaked towards the yacht, peppering it with weapons fire, still trying to force it down. Geoff smiled at that a bit, their distraction working. Clumsily he rolled, trying to flair out as he'd been trained to do long ago in an Academy drill. At the time, he had struggled to see the point of it. Now he regretted not paying closer attention. From somewhere to his left, nearly lost in the roar of the wind, a Zet voice called out. Nenni had composed herself almost immediately and seemed in confient control as she gently glided towards Geoff. Nokzu: (Shouting) Together! We need to get closer! Geoff swam, flapped, kicked and dolphined his way through the air, making a graceless spectacle and very little progress. Seconds passed but he got a hand around Nenni's forearm, just as he felt another hand grasping at the back of his uniform. Slightly above him, Doctor Quen had caught up with their small constellation. With his free hand, Geoff swatted at his combadge. The roar of the wind was so loud he couldn't tell if it was working but that didn't stop him. He figured they had forty five seconds now. Teller: =/\= Teller to Thor, Teller to Thor, Emergency Transport, Team Plus One, Expedite, Expedite =/\= Quen: Response Worryingly, nothing happened. They continued to sail through the increasingly polluted Zet air, low enough now to see light shining through windows. Geoff ground his teeth, repeatedly slapping at his comm badge, still unsure if he was even getting through. Nozku: (Shouting) Alright, you Federation aliens! Nows the part where you save us all! The hurtled down, each crewman calling for emergency transport and receiving no reply. Below them, the ground had become visible below the cloud layer. It was reaching up towards them quite uncomfortably. Katsim: =/\=Katsim to Thor….Get me out of here!=/\= With successful contact made, Ensign Katsim was the first to shimmer out of existence. Her sudden disappearance shattered their tenuous formation and Geoff found himself tumbling away from Nenni, his hold lost, as Alieth shouted in alarm. Alieth: GEOFF!!!!...NOZKU….!!! Geoff's eyes widened, the implications clear to him. When they had been in physical contact, the ship would have no problem tracking Nenni along with the rest of the away team. But falling on her own without a comm badge to lock on to, the ship wouldn't see her. He slapped at his combadge frantically. Teller: =/\= Teller to Thor Abor.... It was too late, and Geoff felt the tingle of the annular confinement beam snatching him away. The last thing he saw was Nenni's terrified look of betrayal. Time froze. In the three seconds it would take Teller to cycle through the pattern buffer, he had a lot to think about. The first was that Nenni, still alive and falling to her death, would have about 20 seconds left before coming to an abrupt halt. Geoff didn't know how yet, but he had that much time to find a solution and implement it or he'd feel the shame of that woman's gaze in his soul for the rest of his life. The second thing he considered was how the modern transporter worked, and it's numerous safeguards and redundancies. For example, inertial compensation as part of the dematerialization process meant they wouldn't slam into the transporter pad at terminal velocity, only falling a small distance since they hadn't exactly been on level ground to begin with. Unfortunately, nothing in the transporters safety system could compensate for the orientation of someone spinning out of control. That meant Geoff rematerialized an arms length above the transporter pad with his boots facing towards the ceiling. ((Transporter Room One, Deck One, USS Thor)) The beam released its hold and Teller fell face first into the transporter pad with a bone breaking crunch. Dark red spots filling his vision, Geoff struggled to his feet and towards the transporter console. A visibly startled Chief Larell was already calling for medical assistance, but Geoff held up a hand and slid behind the console, riding the adrenaline for all it was worth. In his mind, Geoff was still falling with Nenni, still struggling to reach out to her, to grab on. Now, he was doing it with the ships targeting sensors. Greaves: =/\= Captain Greaves to Commander Teller. Sir, I've got a nice warm seat here on the bridge with your name on it. =/\= The voice sounded far away, his hearing ringing badly from the wind or the earlier explosion. Teller: =/\= Standby Bridge, forgot somebody. Retargeting transporters now. =/\= The room fell away and the whole of the universe was reduced to the transporter controls. Greaves: =/\= What do you mean we forgot one? =/\= Geoff's fingers were moving fast, disabling some of the very transporter safety systems he'd just been thinking about. He'd never be able to pick Nenni out of that soup, not without something to target first. So he wouldn't try. On one display, he had the computer plotting the descent vectors of the away team it had taken from the transporter logs. On the other, he was increasing the radius of the annular confinement beam well beyond the safety limits. Fifteen seconds. Teller: Clear the pad, now! Quen/Alieth/Katsim: Response So he'd beam up a huge volume of atmosphere, air included, and would hopefully capture Nenni in the process. The trajectory plot computed and safety systems began flashing urgent red. He was pulling power from all over the ship and channeling it, only one chance left for him to make good on his word. His vision was beginning to blur. Something tasted bitter. Ten seconds. Teller: =/\= Volumetric lock established, standby bridge, energizing... =/\= With deft fingers Teller's hands slid up the triple sequence initiators, the transporter humming to life. The system strained and Teller made a myriad of small adjustments, narrowly averting overload and calamity. Finally, a solitary form materialized in the very center of the transporter pad, curled in and clutching into herself. There was a blast of residual air with the scent of the city that dispersed and filled the room, but the ships filters had it gone in moments. He managed to set her down with surprising grace before leaning heavily against the console, his frantic rush having peaked. Blood dripped unnoticed onto his uniform jacket and console. The transporter, similarly spent, went offline with a sad electronic whine. Geoff knew it would need extensive repairs. Teller: Doctors, if you're alright, please check on Ensign Katsim and Nenni. I need to...get to the..bri.. Geoff felt his legs buckling but caught himself before hitting the deck entirely. It was suddenly a struggle to remain conscious at all, adrenaline rush entirely spent. He wanted nothing more than to lay down and get just a few moments of rest, and his eyelids were getting convincingly heavy. Greaves: =/\= Response =/\= Nozku/Quen/Alieth/Katsim: Response Geoff coughed into his hand, leaving dark streaks on his palm. Teller: =/\= Bridge...Transport..Successful. Red...Alert.... =/\= Greaves: =/\= Response =/\= Nozku/Quen/Alieth/Katsim: Response Tags/TBC =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0

As much as Teller is guiding one of the scenes of this mission to a adrenaline filled and high paced scene, @Tony, aka Kells Here shows us the other side of the Coín with a cold, restrained and Intelligent scene with a slow by highly dramatic pace, a challege of linda with our main antagonist. GORGEOUS (( Anroc's Private Villa, Level 801, Saldanian Corpate Hegemony HQ )) Kells: (deadpan) You mentioned something special. What would be special, Aron thought, was a straight answer, and a quick exit. But he listened to what Anroc had to say. Anroc, however, didn't have anything to say in the moment. Instead, he led Aron to another room, through a door Aron would have sworn wasn't, and into a long, narrow room, framed with frozen Zet and capped at the far end with what Aron could only describe as a throne. Anroc: Welcome to my gallery, Aron. These (gesture to the frozen Zet) as my private advisors. They'll be participating in our discussion, but I'm sure you won't find them a bother. They don't say much. Was it some sort of stasis? As off-balance as he was, and though he felt that he was walking ever more deeply into a trap, Aron couldn't help the itch he felt for his tricorder. It must have been some kind of stasis, but he'd never seen stasis accomplished like this, without any sign of how the suspended animation was accomplished. He was so focused in that moment that he jumped in the next, as Anroc gestured in a way that controlled some stasis mechanism and many of the Zet came to life, mid-scream. It lasted only for a moment, and the Zet froze again, but their screams echoed. Anroc: But they mean so much to me. You see, each of these husks formerly belonged to competitors of mine. Kells: These (beat) husks. As with Anroc's earlier references to eternity and immortality and the like, Aron saw that there was something more there, something to do with this biotech the Zet possessed. But what did he mean, husks of his competitors? Anroc: One of the lesser known uses of the technology that allows for my immortality. But that's a triviality. You're here because you want Eternity, and I'm the one who can deliver it to you. Kells: (coolly) That remains a bold claim. And this (gesture around) display notwithstanding, I haven't seen much that gives me faith in the greatness of Zet biotechnology. Anroc: Very well, it will be good to relay the history without the propaganda we feed the masses. I was there at the beginning and I'm among the last of the First Eternals. You may recognize this chair (gesture to the throne) You saw one aboard my ship. With it, and a small bioware implant here (a finger on the back of his neck) The mind, the unique being, is never duplicated, they can only exist in one husk at a time. That is the miracle of the active particle refractor matrix. The puzzle came together, and Aron saw clearly for the first time. Kells: You possess -- you have possessed -- multiple bodies. You, and these Eternals, the ones who have chased Eternity, migrate your consciousness between bodies. It wasn't absolutely unheard of. He'd read reports of such things happening, though it was generally the sorts of ghost-story-esque outliers that invoked events like possession by energy beings or inexplicable encounters with godlike entities. To find a prewarp civilization capable of such a thing -- if Aron hadn't been repulsed by Anroc's excesses, he would've been impressed. He was, however, still very curious, and wished again that he had a tricorder. Anroc: Quite simply, Eternity was an accident. Scientists were trying to come up with a way of exploring our star system or, perhaps, beyond the Edge, by setting up a series of relay stations and data networks, plus the necessary bioprinters to create biologically viable husks. Kells: (with a slight smile) You lodged your consciousness in your network routers. (beat) And then an accident led to (beat, looking around) this? How? How did you get from there to here? (another beat, then with narrowed eyes) And why have you hoarded it? Anroc: Quite simply, it was too expensive. Our society could not support the cost of immortality. When the civilian authorities abandoned the project, a group of private corporations stepped in and carried on the research. Except now, the clones wouldn't be going to distant moons or beyond the Edge. We were reborn then...no longer shackled by mortality, the Presidents of the original twelve corporations became the First Eternals. Kells: (quietly) Your plutocrats became gods. Anroc: Can you imagine it, Aron? To stand at the yoke of your whole species, guiding them with a benevolent hand over the centuries. All that has happened has been by my hand, my will. That is the strength of Eternity. With another gesture, Anroc forced the Zet -- still silent, but no longer frozen -- to bow and scrape. They made no sound whatsoever. The control, Aron noted, was absolute. He felt nauseous. Kells: This is disgusting. Anroc: Response Instead of acting or sounding angry, however, Aron retreated into the cool tone he'd used earlier. His voice was now downright frigid, though as he couldn't read Anroc's face, he doubted Anroc could read his intonation. But never mind: he felt what he felt. Kells: You're a repugnant slaver who has confused longevity with worth. You're a sad accident, and I hope and I suspect that your species and your culture hold you in contempt. No, I don't want this heinous technology, and I'll work to make sure that you answer for the violence and inequality you've visited on your people. Which was all very much what Aron felt, and he also felt better for saying. But, as soon as he had, he was reminded of his position -- not just as a Starfleet captain, but in space and time. Specifically, in Anroc's hidden gallery, surrounded by Zet husks that he controlled. Anroc: Response Kells: You've confused power and authority. I threatened you before with matter/antimatter weapons, but, no, I think you deserve something far worse: the destruction of your markets and the judgment of your people. Anroc: Response Tags! and TBC! --- Fleet Captain Aron Kells Commanding Officer USS Thor V238208LV0 he/him/his (character & player)

Our normally reserved Ensign Peri Katsim may not say much, but she certainly expresses herself through some inner dialogue that's very well used in the scene. It's a dynamic moment but we still get an insight into what the character really thinks! Thanks for taking the leap! Great job @Alora DeVeau ======================================= ((Yacht Outside 99th Floor Domicile Administrative Center, SalCorp Cohousing Unit 34556)) Alieth: Peri, what were you thinking, you almost… What was she thinking? Shock registered over the young woman’s face. What else should she have done? How could the doctor ask such a thing? Peri didn’t have time for a reply, for Teller was too busy hurling insults at her friend. Teller: You crazy green blooded hob... Nozku: No time! I've got control, we need to go. Now! It was only because the others grabbed on to something that Peri did the same, though perhaps a second behind them. Because it was enough of a delay, she managed to go tumbling to the floor of the vessel as it suddenly lurched away from the gangplank and into the air, and barely managed to get a grip on the side of the vehicle as the Zet suddenly manoeuvred into to a downward angle, plunging straight for the ground that lay far, far beneath them. If the wind had been noisy and annoying before, it had become downright abusive as they sliced through the air in their kamikaze dip. Clinging to the ship as best she could, Peri’s eyes shut tightly, then opened, only to see a vague sense of a reflection in the blurred maze of windows that sped by them. Quen: Up ahead, ten- ::There was the briefest of pauses before she finished::-Against the building! Peri didn’t want to look, but there was something about resisting a call to do just that. Moving her gaze upward, she caught sight of yet another craft, one far more slick and lean. It was was the sort of craft designed for speed - and theirs? Theirs was not. Another lurch off to the side almost sent Peri reeling, but she managed to keep a tenuous hold, if barely. Alieth: Geoff, make this thing speed up a bit more because we are being followed closely. Teller: Aye aye ma'am, but it looks like Nenni already has us way the safety zones. If I'm reading this right we've...::Geoff squinted at the display then shook his head:: ....voided the warranty. Nozku: This thing isn't a racer, its made for lazy trips around the lake! How far away are they Not far. Not far at all. Lazy trips around the lake, well this wasn’t one of those. That would have been a much nicer way to spend their day, but alas, that was not what the Prophets had in store for them. A sudden tremor almost shook Peri’s grip and once more she tightened her hold. Alieth: Close, VERY CLOSE. Suddenly, they changed direction. Peri’s stomach, which had decided to climb up into her throat with the dive, suddenly found it self thrust into the bottom of her feet as Nokzu managed to completely, totally, utterly change direction. The Bajcardy attempted to keep the contents of said stomach inside where they belonged rather than subjecting her fellow crew members to more misery than they already were. Nokzu: Hang on tight! Weren’t they already doing that? Peri was desperately trying to do so and finding herself on the cusp of losing her hold only to re-establish it just before another swerve or jerk managed to wrench it off. As she pressed against one side of the boat, a flash of colour sped by on the other side, then another appeared above her briefly. Once more, they changed, down was first, then up, suddenly they were going down again, as if on some crazy, jerky, railless roller coaster ride. Peri, for one, wanted to get off. Teller:...level...off...have to...contact ship... Katsim: How? The soft voice was no match for the wind that cut off the sound before it could reach the others. There was another sudden shift, tossing the passengers again off to the side. Peri’s face banged against the railing to which she clung, sending a stream of lights before her eyes for a brief moment. Alieth: Alive, but I have a few tips for our driver Nozku: If you'd rather the next shot take out our thrusters, I can smooth out the ride for you! That would be wonderful, but a rather difficult request considering they were currently in the middle of a chase scene. Keeping her tight hold upon the ship, Peri attempted to twist in order to get a better look at those chasing them, the up and down making her stomach flip and flop way too much for comfort. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Teller’s attempt to get the combadge to work. Even over the whistling of the wind, she caught the faintest sound of a chirp. Wait...did that mean it was working? Teller: =/\= Teller to Thor, Teller to Thor, Priority One Emergency! =/\= The communicator made a sound that sounded very much like a child sticking out a tongue and blowing a raspberry. Hope which had sprung up within the young scientist dimmed. Tellers expression was thoughtful. Suddenly, it was more than just thoughtful. Peri wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was going through his mind. Quen: Are there seatbelts on this thiiiiiing?! That would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? So much for convenience. As Nozku swung the yacht to the other side, Peri found herself thrown once more against the edge, her back taking the abuse this time as she was shoved against a pile of lashing and the hook upon which it was wound and, after barely hanging on to its own tentative place, suddenly came on wound and began whipping about with each jarring movement. Gritting her teeth, she could physically feel the strain of the vessel beneath them. Nokzu: We need a way to lose our friends back there, and we need to do it fast! There was a smile on Teller’s face. Why was there a smile on Teller’s face? Peri didn’t know the man very well. Having arrived on the ship only a few months prior, the two had interacted a handful of times. In general, he seemed like a sweet, pleasant fellow. However, she had certainly heard quite a few stories involving him. Him and destruction. Explosions. Chaos. Peri didn’t like the smile on Teller’s face. Teller: Like you said Nenni, we're not going to outrun them in this thing. That's why we're going to jump. Oh Prophts, preserve them! Teller: We set this thing on autopilot and jump when we're behind one of those buildings - they'll never see us. Transporter can get us on the way down. No problem. Immediately, enthusiastically, unequivocally, Peri shook her head. No! No way! Nuh uh! No how! Alieth: Response Quen: That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard! In that, she and Quen were in agreement. Silently, Peri wondered if maybe Teller needed a psychological evaluation. Nokzu: Are you crazy!? We'd never survive something like that! Something bright flashed behind them, sending the little airship shivering. Peri shivered with it. Teller: Sorry Nenni, but you're going to have to trust us on this one. It's this, or end up back in Anroc's hands. Frankly, I'd rather take my chances. If anybody feels differently, say so now. Trust us? When did this become an us? This was allllll Teller. Sighing, Peri peered over at the first officer. She supposed it probably wouldn’t do not to trust him. But she really didn’t feel like she wanted to plunge to her death. Quen/Alieth/Nozku: Response Teller: Ok fine, if we all die you get to say you told me so. Nenni, can you jam the controls, make sure the yacht keeps going after we jump? Nozku: Response Teller: Well, I don't think we should leave without expressing our gratitude to President Anroc. ::Geoff's smile turned a bit wicked:: See that big statue over there? Dark eyes followed where Teller pointed and upon the statue he indicated. What did the statue have to do with...wait. Oh no. He was just going to make this worse, wasn’t he? Nozku: Response Teller winked at them, as if they were all in on this little conspiracy. It was only made worse when Nozku returned the wink with a multiplicitous one of her own. Teller: When we jump, try to stay close together. Start calling for transport as soon as you're clear of the dampening effect. Quen/Alieth/Nozku: Response Katsim: Are...are you sure this is going to work? Peri tried desperately to be heard above the continuous muted roar of the wind. Another slice of light zipped past them, barely missing them. Shivering, Peri craned her neck back up. Those ships were closing in. Alieth/Nozku/Quen/Teller: Response Katsim: Sure there’s something else we can do? Alieth/Nozku/Quen/Teller: Response No. Peri didn’t have any other ideas. The other ships were getting closer, and their particular vehicle was getting closer to the statue. They didn’t have much time. Alieth/Nozku/Quen/Teller: Response Katsim: Sir, I officially go on record that I don’t like this plan. But what was she going to do? There wasn’t any time to think before the Zet, Teller, and Quen suddenly launched themselves off the ship. Alieth was climbing over the edge and Peri was attempting to do so as well. By the time Peri managed to get one leg over the side, all the others were gone. The ship was headed on a collision course with the statue and her crew members were sailing through the air. Glancing up, she saw the ships making a beeline straight for that little yacht that had so valiantly carried them as best it could away from harm. Tremulously, she managed to get the other leg over the edge and, taking a deep breath, Peri closed her eyes, then jumped. Alieth/Nozku/Quen/Teller: Response It was a strange sensation, the wind pressing against her as she pushed downward. On one hand, it was almost as if it were trying to lift her up rather than let her fall, but gravity was a stronger force and it would not be denied. As much as that wind tried, it was no match for the greater power that exerted its strength. Slowly, Peri squinted her eyes open and almost wished she hadn’t. Below, a quilted puzzle stretched out, and she was so high she couldn’t even make out the bodies of individual Zets beneath. Was she far enough away yet? Would the communicator work now? Allowing her eyes to close once more, Peri managed to force her arm to tap the combadge. There was chirp, but it was followed by a resounding ‘blat’ of failure Not far enough. Slowly, she forced her eyes open. The ground was closer and inching more so every second. Silently, she counted to thirty, trying not to let the welling of panic overwhelming her. Another tap. Another failure. Tears stung her eyes, though it was difficult to say if it was from fear or the rush of wind beating at them. Peri closed her eyes, counted to thirty again and tapped. Nothing. She set into a pattern, count, tap, count, tap. Closer and closer the ground rose up to meet her. Finally, a chirp, a secondary one. Success! Katsim: =/\=Katsim to Thor….Get me out of here!=/\= Alieth/Nozku/Quen/Teller: Response Thor: ? -- Ensign Katsim Peri Science Officer USS Thor M239008AD0

@Alieth just has this amazing writing sense where she can take a completely benign scene and really make it a joy to read. Outstanding tee-up from @Ben Garcia for this scene as well. I'm loving this so far, and can't wait to see if Cheesecake is going to get the nasty replicator filter or not!

There are no gigantic explosions, no great heroic deeds, no mighty efforts. This is a simple but well written sim that gives insight into the character and help sets up the situation that character is about step into. I appreciate @Alex Brodie's ability to make me care and connect with his character. ((Brodie’s Quarters, Deck Five, USS Thor)) Brodie tossed his scribe onto the desk and leaned back. Two hours he’d been poring over legal texts and treaties and directives and it was giving him a headache. He knew the battle…and it was a battle…against Anroc wasn’t going to be easy and he needed to make sure that everything fell into place in the right way. As he’d said to Kells, there couldn’t be any missteps with their people down there. Firstly, there was Starfleet General Order One and its many, many, sub-orders. He’d dearly love to tear the entire subjugation culture of the Zet down, but it was their societal norm – it would amount to destabilising an established government. Their mere presence had already violated it in part - the Zet were not warp capable. That said it could be argued that, while not a warp capable culture, they had travelled beyond their own world using technology at their disposal. Providing technology was also frowned upon…as well as taking actions which supported one faction of society over another…he closed his eyes and saw the impact of the young Zet’s head on the wall…he clenched and unclenched his fists. The Federation Charter also made caste systems illegal and, while that did not technically extend to the Zet, it would add an additional layer of complexity to matters when negotiating the release of technology. The whole notion was really a non-starter…although Anroc didn’t need to know that. He’d also looked over the documentation that had been provided ahead of the ‘negotiations’, he used the word advisedly, and he honestly hadn’t seen much in his years that had terrified him more. Eternal life through some form of cloning process. He wondered if this was related technology to how the Vorta were created…extended…by the Dominion? They were in the Gamma Quadrant after all. Had this been one of Anroc’s acquisitions? He’d need to speak to Ivy about that but getting in-touch wouldn’t be possible out here. But Eternal life? Who wanted that? Truly wanted it? He’d seen on Solace how it had led to a never-ending cycle – the prospect of living forever had meant the Nol-Ennis and the Ennis had never moved on from their civil war until Sulan had joined them. Why live forever if you don’t grow? Then there was the issue of the haves and the have not – would everyone benefit? Or would you get a caste system like the Zet appeared to have. Free to those who could afford it and very expensive to those who couldn’t? And finally, there would be those who would abuse it…because someone always did. Taking a peaceful ideal of, for example, eradicating disease and twisting it into a weapon of war or a tool of dominance. He found he was pacing…he needed change anyway. He opened one of the storage closets and pulled out his dress uniform – running his hand along the edge of the fabric. Anroc needed to see they were taking him seriously. They needed him to be comfortable, and feel like he was in control, but they also needed to project an illusion of authority so he would be prepared to treat them as more than mere ephemerals. This would help set them apart. He also hoped that, in their full regalia, Aron Kells might find some sense of his own identity as a Fleet Captain again. To play the part one had to look the part. But then again…it might come across as a being braggish? Anroc would probably laugh at their pitiful attempt at bravado…and maybe Aron Kells would be reminded of darker times past? As he pushed the jacket back into the locker his hand brushed against the sword that was hanging in its sheath. He still needed to arrange that fencing lesson with Teller – perhaps once this was over – he had some ideas. He took the blade from its hook and slid it free – the silver edge of the rapier glinting in the light. He moved through a few positions around his quarters – stepping one way then the other – like the upcoming confrontation with Anroc the footwork would be key to success. He sheathed the weapon and hung it back up. Words, not weapons, were going to win the day here. He hoped. ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

@Wes Greaves has a delightful style and wonderful prose in which he is able to slip in little personal details, leaving room for the scene to unfold around him, while at the same time he is able to mix touches of humour with a beautifully described serious scene. And, for the record, after this mission Greaves-fly-in-the-wall is canon. ____________________________________ Capt Wes Greaves - Old Words, New Meanings ((Transporter Room 1, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Wes had expected to find the skipper on the bridge. As soon as the away team was back aboard he had high tailed it to the turbolift to debrief the man only to find the Captain's Chair manned by a Lieutenant JG and the ready room empty. With a frown and a query of the computer he discovered the Fleet Captain's true location. With Ensign Jehe in tow, they made their way to the transporter room to try and catch the man before he beamed down to the surface. Fleet Captain Kells and Counselor Brodie were climbing the steps to the transporter pad as the double doors hissed open. Wes could see a strained, concentrated look on the skippers face as the pair turned to greet him and Saja. Kells: Captain, Ensign? Greaves: Fleet Captain, I didn't expect you to be heading down so quickly. And… so absent any security element. I strongly suggest you consider taking Ensign Jehe with you, sir. The Marine frowned. He hoped he wasn't being too direct, but beating around the bush would just waste the skipper's time. Their relationship had been purely professional, and they really only brushed against each other every so often. It was hard to get a read on the man living and working like that. In the moment, he vowed to try and get to know the man a little better next shore leave. Wes caught a frown cross Aron's face and worried a little at its origins. Brodie / Jehe: Responses Kells: Very well. Glad to have you with me, Ensign. He tried to avoid any outward sign of relief, and instead folded his hands back behind him in a respectful and professional stance. In his mind's eye, Wes was the epitome of the professional Marine. Were he a fly on the wall, he'd be able to see himself looking suspiciously like his Vulcan friends he so often joked at. Brodie / Jehe: Responses Greaves: Perfect. Kells: Any last pieces of advice, Captain? Greaves: Just one thing. Don't underestimate Anroc. He's dangerous sir. I can feel it. Brodie / Jehe: Responses Kells: Try your best to bring Commander Teller and his team back to the ship, and recall Commander Garcia as well. If anything should happen to us, get the Thor away and return to the Alpha Quadrant. A frown crossed the Marine's face again, and Wes made an effort to replace it with one of his more reassuring smiles. The implications of the command were something he didn't want to consider. For a moment he didn't. Greaves: Understood, but I'm sure it won't come to that. Brodie / Jehe: Responses Kells: Very well. Energize. As the trio faded away the room became oddly quiet, just Wes and the transporter chief. A realization came over him. He and Sirok now had command of one of Starfleet's most advanced vessels. More specifically, he had been left in charge, and the Fleet Captain just gave him orders to run away if things went sideways. A memory flashed through his mind from the academy's command school. At the time he had found it strange, and even borderline inappropriate. Now, Wes understood the weight behind that lesson. He could almost hear his professor's voice… ((Flashback: 2394, Starfleet Academy, Command School, Classroom 2244B)) Professor: This classroom holds nearly 100 cadets, eager to lead within Starfleet. The man paced slowly back and forth in front of the class; the lecture notes projected on the monitors forgotten for the moment. Cadet Greaves idly wondered where this was going. It hadn't been in the pre-class readings. Professor: Of you, nearly all will likely sit on the bridge of a starship. At least half of you will, at some point, find yourself the ranking officer on the bridge. Maybe a third of you will be the ranking officer on an entire Starship at some point. The bearded professor paused his pacing and looked across the classroom. He had an eerie way of seeming to look every single cadet in the eye, all at once. Professor: All of you. Each and every one, will serve some self-sacrificing Captain who will, at some point, give an order to abandon them in the name of the greater good. Sometimes it’s the right call. Sometimes its not. No matter, they are the Captain, and they gave a lawful order. You have to follow it. The man swept his gaze back across the class again, this time more slowly. The entire class seemed to lean in to hear what he had to say next. Professor: There is more than one way to interpret an order. Just be sure as hell you're right about how you interpret it. [End Scene for Greaves]

Antagonist you love to hate. Setting the bar high here @Geoffrey Teller! (just.... THAT signature) ________________________ ((Anroc's private villa, level 801, Saldanian Corporate Hegemony Headquarters)) Sher’ok Borac had somehow survived the last few hours without being summarily liquidated by staying as invisible as possible. Anything at all that could've brought the wrath of Anroc down on him had been handed off or deferred until a slightly less lethal time could be found. Sher'ok had been lucky so far, but his luck had come to an end with this new alien horror. They expected President Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc, First Eternal, Most Exalted Administrator to do the unthinkable. They had the gaul to ask Anroc to contact them. It was a violation of every corporate protocol and Hostile Takeovers, with an emphasis on the Hostile, had been fought over smaller insults between Eternals. Sher'ok had run the words around in his mind a multitude of times, trying to find a way to deliver the message that wouldn't immediately cause Anroc to have him thrown off the side of the building, or worse. The staff had all heard rumors of something called the Silent Gallery, a space whose location and purpose was known only to Anroc himself. Sher'ok tried to push the rumors out of his mind as he stepped into Anroc's majestic presence his stomachs rumbling in distress. Borac: Wonderous President Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc, First Eternal, Beloved & Benevolent, Ever.... Pitorian Anroc had been diverting himself, watching some of the Starfleet things scrabbling around his holdings like clumsy interns. It was already clear to Anroc who the real superior beings were in this situation, and the answer was the same to him as it had been yesterday, and the day before, and a thousand days before that. He was Superior. He was Eternal. He'd take the aliens for all they had and when he was done, he'd use what he'd gained to take more. Soon, all that was would know his magnificence. His pleasant megalomaniacal musings were interrupted by one of the interminable swarm of Ephemerals in his personal staff. With a dour scowl, Anroc lazily extended a single digit. Sniffing the air with an exaggerated gesture, Anroc settled his gaze on the half-bowing Borac. Anroc: Why have you brought such a foul odor into my presence? Borac: My...President. The aliens...yes they...they wish to do as you have commanded, of course, and will put you in direct contact with their leader. We have a biographical file based on exit interviews performed on the returning crew of the Endless Golden Penetrator. There is a full psychological analysis included and I'm sure you'll be pleased to... Anroc's scowl deepened dangerously. Anroc: Do not presume to guess what will and will not please me. So? Where is he? Where is this Kells? Borac gulped uncomfortably, stomachs threatening to rebel on the spot. Borac: Mr. President, sir, the aliens...they have asked you to contact them. To arrange the meeting. ::Borac could feel himself sweating:: We tried to explain to them that this simply wasn't done, and that they were flying in the face of all civilized business, but they.. For the second time today, Borac heard the wretched sound of an Eternals laughter. Chancing to glance up, Borac caught a flash of murderous glee in Anroc's eyes before hastily turning his face back to the floor. Anroc: These aliens have finally realized how badly they have misjudged me and they're trying to appear strong. ::Anroc's laughter was cold and sharp, like a winter chill that penetrated the bone and lingered long after:: Pathetic. I shall show them the strength of Eternity. Anroc summoned an attendant with a strong beverage which he slowly consumed over the next few minutes, wordlessly studying the report on Fleet Captain Aron Kells. Borac didn't dare move or twitch. He was as frozen as the ephemerals who were assigned to 'biological ornamentation' duties around the villa, holding curtains and wearing next to nothing. By the time Anroc was done skimming the file, his smile had grown horrifyingly predatory. Anroc: Yes, it amuses me to speak with someone these people consider a leader. Contact them. I will grace them with my presence...now. Borac tapped a few controls into a device on his wrist and the connection was made. The familiar SalComm Logo pulsed briefly and then he was face to face with his prey. Anroc wasted no time. Anroc: Have you finally decided to meet with me yourself, Aron, or do you have a few more underlings to waste my time with? To the aliens credit, his shock was momentary and quickly disguised. Anroc focused ever so slightly more, sensing at least some mettel in this being. Kells: I would be happy to, Shipmaster. My officers did come with my full support and authority, however. Anroc rolled his eyes expansively and took a long sip of yet another narcotic tonic. Anroc: For a moment I thought you were serious about meeting. I see it's clear you don't even comprehend to whom you are speaking. ::Anroc stood, resplendid and magnificent:: I am Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc. President of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony. My role as Shipmaster was only a small and trifling affair compared to the enormity of my domain. Had you not dragged the Penetrator back here in shame I doubt I ever would have thought of it again. Kells: Well, as you say. Anroc: Yes, good, get used to that. I will tell you what is, and you will agree. That is the backbone of our corporate structure, and it has held firm for centuries. Brodie: Responses Anroc: Oh, you do more underlings. Perhaps this one has your authority as well? Brodie/Kells: Response Anroc: I have offered your people Eternity and you would waste my time with formalities? You will meet with me, of that I am certain. Brodie/Kells: Response Anroc: I see you can be sensible when properly motivated and focused. I will be looking forward to our negotiations. I'm certain they'll be fruitful. Brodie/Kells: Response Pitorian Anroc's smile pressed into a lethal line. Anroc: Before we begin, I'd like to clarify something. ::Anroc beckoned for an attendant at random. The exquisitely beautiful Zet who kneeled in front of him a moment later couldn't have been more than a few years into her internship, and she trembled under his gaze. Anroc felt a pleasant warmth:: Run at that wall as fast as you can. Without hesitation, the young girl took off at a full sprint towards the nearest wall, gaining more speed with each long stride until she struck the wall with a sickening crack of bone and muscle. Leaving a long dark stain on the otherwise perfect wall the body slid to the floor, twitching only once before going still. Anroc: That is how I define authority. Pitorian basked in their horror for a long moment before cutting the connection, searching for his drink. The exquisite young girls body had vanished and the wall was already being cleaned by the time he found it. [Tags/End Act 2 for Anroc!] ========== Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc Owner & Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting & Magnificent, Supreme Conqueror of the Void, Venerated By Children, Arbiter of Contractual Justice, First Contacted Among Corporations, Supreme Managerial Authority V239509GT0

I'm obsessed with how weird and amazing this development is. The orbiting statuary! @Ben Garcia --- (( USS Ra, Cruising Orbit, Zet Homeworld. )) Even at a distance it had been an imposing figure. 93 meters. It oscillated on a vertical axis, running from the statues’ crown to the hem of its gown. The metal had been sculpted into ripples so fluid that Ben could almost hear the breeze rustling across the stars. Until he remembered space was a vacuum. Scans showed an internal power source maintained the statue’s position and axis rotation, although Ben wasn’t able to understand the mechanisms of the technology making it possible. The Ra glided to a stop at the statue’s base. The detail of the sculpture was elaborate and fine. Open jawed, Ben leant across the helm console in disbelief at the intricacy of the sculpted gown: its weft warped and bowed in proportion to the furrow of the fabric’s crease. It was beautiful. It was wasted. How could such craft be appreciated like this - in the dead orbit of space? Lovar/Rouiancet: Response? Ben gave a slight whistle with a nod of the head. Garcia: Odd title for a sculpture. Lovar/Rouiancet: Response? With a trickle of thrust, Ben edged the Ra forwards, weaving through the orbiting statuary, towards the Zet Homeworld. Garcia: Any sites of technological interest we should priortise for the recon fly over? Lovar/Rouiancet: Response? Garcia: Ideally we want a site near something touristy:- that’ll be our excuse for being in the area. Lovar/Rouiancet: Response? Tag/TBC! _____________________________ Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia Second Officer/HCO USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: G239102MR0 SB118 News Team

The level od SASS that @Quen Deena can percolate sky rocket in this sim. I loved it! ____ ((Transporter Room 1, Deck 1, USS Thor)) She still had to make that punch-card for Teller. And probably Alieth, too, while she was at it. Both of them had been among the injured beamed over from the Penetrator. Deena would have liked to say she was surprised, but… she wasn't. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she ought to start a betting pool: every time one of them leaves the ship, guess the number of minutes before they come back knocked out. Maybe the Zet would find it funny…. But knowing them, gambling on injuries sustained by the boss was probably a severe violation of contract. Speaking of the Zet, it had been an… interesting few days. The biggest hurdle they’d encountered was, by far, the cultural divide between Starfleet and the Zet. From what she’d managed to glean from the plethora of untreated conditions and anxieties over payment, their society was transactional enough to make the Ferengi look generous. Verbal assurances had gotten them nowhere. Salo and Rumboldt had come together to tweak one of the standard injury report forms to include some nonsense about method of payment cobbled together from a variety of historical datafiles. Apparently, it made just enough sense to keep the majority of the Zet distracted enough to allow the medical teams to administer proper treatment before consigning the PADDs to the growing electronic graveyard on Dr Alieth’s desk. Unfortunately, that had attracted the attention of members of the Penetrator's crew who announced themselves as middle management and demanded a complex series of meetings be undertaken. Presumably, the intent was to negotiate… something - probably the nonexistent price tag, if she had to guess. Their requests piled one on top of the other, so filled with jargon and acronyms even the universal translator couldn’t make them make sense. Deena had come quite close to having some rather unprofessional words with a particularly insistent one when Connelly lit on the idea to have the middle managers meet amongst themselves to discuss the planning of the meetings. She owed the woman a beer for that. Several. What was the collective noun for a group of middle managers anyway? An obstruction? She smirked to herself. It was at least accurate, if not correct. The officers took position around the transporter pad and Geoff nodded to Chief Larell, but paused before stepping onto the pad. Teller: Doctors, Ensign, glad we're all here. The situation is this ::Geoff tapped on a nearby display and showed images from the planet:: We began beaming down our evacuees to a location they designated as their 'mandated domicile,' but they're being turned away and we're not sure why. We've had to temporarily stop relaying people to the ground until we can sort this out. Quen: Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with the mysterious meeting that started four days ago? Alieth gave a slight nod at her department colleague's input. Alieth: I concur. Anything else we need to consider whilst we are on the surface? Teller: Well, in addition to making sure the people you treated actually have homes to go back to the Fleet Captain wants us to take a look around. A through one. I don't know about you three, but some of what we saw on the Penetrator left a real bad taste in my mouth. We need to understand the Zet better and until we do, lets keep digging. Questions? Katsim: No sir. Deena shook her head. Oh, she had questions, all right - none that any of them could answer, of course... Alieth: Nor do I, Commander Teller: Very well, eyes open, best behavior...::Geoff was speaking to himself as much as anything, considering his introduction:: we're the friendly aliens you... Deena had a half-formed quip about "best behavior" including not becoming The Concussion Crew, but the transporter cycle took hold before she could get it out, whisking the away team off the ship. ((Employee Esplanade 993 - Saldanian Life@Home Employee Mandated Domicile Services, LLC)) What hit Deena first was the headache-inducing contrast between the dark, dinghy metals and grimy glass of the buildings (amplified by the lack of natural light), and the eye-watering brilliance of loud advertisements that were artificially lit with what could only be described as the power of a thousand suns. Instinctively, her hand went up to shield her eyes until they had a chance to adjust. What she wouldn’t give for a set of inner eyelids right now… Of course, those tended to come with a set of overly-sensitive olfactory glands. Which, now that the aroma was coming through, would probably not be a good thing. Burnt metal, rot, bodily fluids; a rank, stomaching churning aroma of hopelessness and misery mixed with cheap food and poor hygiene. Half a pace in front of her, Alieth stumbled back a step and gripped Deena’s arm to steady herself. She was a bit surprised her colleague was still conscious. The scent hung so thickly in the air, it was beginning to settle on Deena’s tongue. Their destination was an office several hundred meters into the structure but they had chosen to land outside, where some of their former guests were milling around or encamped along the perimeter. Teller: Vice Associate Rod'gurs...what seems to be going on here? Why aren't the crew going inside? From what she’d learned of their emotional expression, the Zet seemed deeply troubled - treading on depressed. Rod'gurs: A Capital Loss. Declared Capital Loss. Ledger closed. Credit history gone. No severance. Alieth: You mean the shipwreck? The Penetrator's fate? Deena blinked, confused. The words themselves sounded familiar enough - the order, not so much. Quen: What does that mean - "capital loss"? Rod'gurs: All of us. Written off. ::Shaggee made a choking sort of noise somewhere between a giggle and a sob.:: Declared a loss. It was the most fiscally prudent move for the Corporation. Teller: Is there anyone we can discuss this with here? The Zet seemed to fall back into a prepared sales presentation. The words seemed repeated from deep memory. Rod'gurs: The Saldanian corp arcology complete domicile solution is a remarkable innovation in low operational cost minimal survivability living. To streamline administrative, judicial and civic oversight, local arcology directors will have broad discretion in matters of employee housing retention or termination. ::The zet snapped out of his fugue, now making eye contact with Geoff.:: You might be able to schedule a meeting with them, but it'll be several rotations until they even meet again for an emergency. We'd need to file an emergency motion and... Deena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. A Ferengi dream - a nightmare for everyone else. A nightmare was still technically a dream, yes? Teller: I think they'll meet with us. Lead the way, Mr. Rod'gurs. Everyone else - take all the readings you can as we work our way into this structure ::Geoff stepped in something, paused, and shook his head.::...and watch your step. Alieth: Understood. ::turning to the Bajoran:: Doctor Quen, gather data on any Zet we come across, cross-reference it with what we gathered on the Thor. As she said this, she pulled out a tricorder that had been clipped to her hip and started scanning the surroundings. Deena did the same, until she caught a glimpse of something large and multi-legged with a vaguely furry shell skittering away from the path into a grimy, dark crevice. Quen: So long as someone keeps an eye out for the *ahem* wildlife... Soon they were all trotting towards their destination, most of them with their noses practically buried in their tricorders. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of Zet nearby and, as far as any of them could determine, none of them were in any state one could rightly call "healthy". Most of the infants had some degree of malnutrition or developmental problems. Over half showed mutations due to toxins or early exposure to radioactive substances. Almost all of the adults examined appeared to be on the verge of exhaustion. Injuries or scars were common and were a sign of a violent life or gruelling work. Many of the Zet in range had implants of some kind: limbs, organs, in the case of one particularly large Zet who stopped as they passed, almost his entire skull had been replaced by cybernetics. Deena’s focus narrowed in on the pulsing, angry readings coming from the device in her hand. Alieth: Admittedly, the Penetrator crew were the height of health compared to this population. Deena was silent for a moment. She’d been thinking the same thing. A tiny part of her had been clinging to the faint hope that what they’d seen on the Penetrator was the result of extraordinary circumstances and not indicative of the whole. Unfortunately, that was in fact the case - just not the way she’d imagined... Quen: Somehow, I was still hoping we would see better… ::beat:: I’m picking up a large number of parasitic infections as well - it’s not just the visible. Teller: Response Alieth: Perhaps, but I would prefer to have a larger sample before making a hypothesis. The shadow of the building fell over them as they crossed the arched entrance. The stench there was even worse than before. In the gloomy corridor a number of Zet lay in a pile, some asleep, some with their gaze transfixed on the ceiling and an expression of bliss that could only be indicative of extensive drug intake. A low beep from Alieth’s tricorder indicated that at least one of the Zet had already died. Deena glanced down at her own, and gave a subtle, somber nod as confirmation. Katsim: I don’t understand how people could live like that. The words were soft, spoken more to herself than for the sake of conversation. Alieth: Neither do I. Deena’s eyes swept the scene, her heart aching with both anger and empathy. Take away the garish advertisements - add in a fine layer of ore dust, a haze of smoke, a fence.... Change the species, of course. She’d seen enough holoimages to recognise the parallels. Wouldn’t exactly be an uncommon sight a generation ago on her world - an endless feedback loop of hopelessness and poverty, no escape except... Quen: ::softly:: It’s not always a choice... Teller: Response Alieth: Yes sir. Their steps led them to an inner courtyard, revealing the myriad balconies that hung from each floor, trying to catch the smallest percentage of natural light that seeped dirty and miserable into that sort of oversized skylight. On either side were staircases, spiralling sluggishly up each floor until they disappeared into the heights, while at the bottom, facing them, the inviting door of a lift glittered, its sides and interior ablaze with a thousand screens full of advertising, from the nutritious substitute solyent greenery to corporate advertisements about the need to raise a herd of children to contribute to the next generation of corporate employees. The garish visual assault made Deena’s head pound. Alieth: The use of the lift means a supplementary charge of 1.5% per each dozen floors, which will be automatically deducted from the company's payroll with every usage. A recurrent user discount can be claimed provided that you present the certificate 454b for essential workers or provide the document 33t section 88 of progeny cession .... Anyway, there seems to be a fee for its use. Teller/Katsim: Response Quen: No chance of an out-of-towners’ discount, I suppose? Deena was half-joking. Or so she thought. The Vulcan glanced at the text once more, her eyes sweeping over the text and then narrowing even further until she reached the fine print. Alieth: Non-corporate visitors, workers from other corporations or other uncovered visitors may use the service in exchange for one day lease of work for SalCorp per floor climbed, being at least 80 hexaclicks per week or 40 if the applicant applies as a subject for experimentation of new SalCorp products not authorized yet by Central Business Agency….Maybe stairs then? How many floors do we have to climb? Deena grumbled under her breath. Slave labor and experimentation... Quen: Why am I not surprised? Teller/Katsim/Alieth: Response Quen: Well - stairs it is, I guess. Unless anybody feels like spending a couple extra months here… Teller/Katsim/Alieth: Response Quen: Any good hiking songs among those sea shanties, Commander? Teller: Response Katsim/Alieth: Response Tag/TBC __________ Lieutenant Quen Deena Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239602QD0

@Wes Greaves is a great scene creator, and the flavour he give to each scene he creates could introduce you fully in a strange new world, as much as give a LOT of space for his fellow writers to developt the plot themselves. Awesome cooperative writing on display of a great writer. Good job man! -------- Capt Wes Greaves - Extravagance Greaves’s Personal Log – It’s a strange feeling. The skipper put me in charge the away team to meet with one of the Zet. A pretty important one by all accounts. I’ve led teams before, but not like this. This is a group of officers under my charge, on an exceptionally strange first contact situation. When they talk at the Academy about being prepared for the unexpected, well I guess they were right. We’ve all been briefed on the very little we know about these people. Capitalistic ideals taken to an extreme. Some kind of significant class structure. It event seems that most of the Zet on the Penetrator were both in awe of and terrified of the upper class. I’m concerned with how the Federation’s ideals might clash with the Zet, but that’s what first contact is. A meeting of worlds. Let’s hope this is one of the smoother meetings. End log. ((Saldanian Corporate Hegemony Headquarters, Zet Homeworld)) The building was exceptional. That was the only word Wes could think of to describe it. They had beamed onto the planet at the described coordinates and time. There they found themselves in a giant plaza amidst a sprawling city in front of one of the tallest buildings Wes had ever seen. It looked like the entire thing was made of some kind of marble that shone with some kind of internal iridescent light. The plaza itself was circular and ringed by dozens of shining statues made of what looked like gold. Each statue depicted a different Zet, and without context, Wes had no idea who or what they stood for. The plaza itself was mostly deserted, with only a handful of Zet standing on the perimeter a few dozen meters away. They all had their backs to the away team and carried some sort of long metallic looking device which Wes assumed was some kind of weapon. If he had to guess, these were the building’s security, and the most likely reason that the plaza and the immediate vicinity was deserted. Greaves: Not exactly the welcome wagon I was expecting. Where is everyone? Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses Wes nodded along with the officer and caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. The doors to the massive building slid open to reveal a pale Zet who strode out across the plaza toward the team. If Wes didn’t know any better he’d say that the Zet looked nervous. It’s eyes darted back and forth between the away team members. He could hardly blame it. They were all aliens to the Zet. Borac: Hello, I am Sher’ok Borac. Please come with me. Owner and Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc awaits you in one of the upper chambers. Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses Borac: I’m sorry… I’ve not been authorized to discuss anything. Per my assignment I am to take you directly to the upper chamber. The Marine frowned and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t like being herded somewhere without any information. Regardless they had little choice, and if the Zet had intended them any harm they could have done it as soon as they beamed in. This was likely some posturing charade rather than anything malicious. Greaves: Very well then Mister Borac. Please, lead the way (motioning with his hand). Without another word the Zet, head bowed low and eyes focused just in front of him, led the team into the building. The lobby was brightly lit in a faint green-ish white light with several Zet standing upright behind a massive semi-circular desk that Wes sized up to be a reception-like area. Not stopping, their guide led them past the reception area to a waiting lift at the back of the room. Several golden faces were mounted on the walls near the lifts and Wes could swear the eyes followed them as they entered. The lift itself was made entirely of some transparent glass or metal and allowed the occupants to look out the rear of the massive building. From this angle Wes could see that the building was shaped like a ‘U’, with the lift overlooking the inside curve and out the top of the ‘U’. Without delay, the doors closed and the lift rapidly ascended as soon as the team was fully inside. The higher they went, the better Wes could see, and it quickly became apparent that the building overlooked a massive lake or ocean. Bird like creatures circled at the water’s edge. Greaves: Quite the view we’ve got here. Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses Borac: Again, I’m sorry. I’m not authorized to speak any more than what I’ve already said. Almost as if on cue the lift slowed to a stop and the doors parted again. They were high up. Very high up. Several kilometers if Wes had to guess. Borac didn’t wait for them to admire the view however and quickly set off down a long hallway and Wes was forced to step quickly to keep up with the man’s long gait. They didn’t go far however before the team stopped short of wide double doors. Borac: Here we are. Please, take a seat inside. Owner and Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc will be with you shortly. Wes offered the man a smile and a nod, but before he could thank the Zet, the man had turned and started off down the hall. Greaves: Well, I guess we wait. Any idea how high up we are right now? Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses The room they had been led to was a large empty conference room dominated by a table made of that eerily glowing rock. The back wall however was floor to ceiling windows which overlooked the ocean. Greaves: (Low whistle) These people sure can appreciate a spectacular view. Look at that. Have you ever seen water that color before? Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses The doors at the back of the room parted as the Zet made his entrance and Wes turned to face the man whom he’d hoped would finally be the reason they had been sent to the planet. Anroc: Response TAG/TBC ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 =========================

You're killing me, @Geoffrey Teller, you're killing me! IC: ((Employee Productivity Recovery Center - Endless Golden Penetrator)) Alieth: In addition, your knowledge about the biology of your species will help us to stabilize the injured. The more patients we can send to the Thor, the more optimal our performance will be. Shaggee was aghast and his head bobbed from side to side, his neck rigid with indignation. Rod'gurs: Help you treat the injured? I'm not certified for that. It would be a violation of my contract! Jehe: You are contractually forbidden from rendering aid to others in an emergency? Trying to be patient with these increasingly bizarre outsiders, Shaggee spread his hands and spoke as he would to an intern. Rod'gurs: 'Employees of the Saldanian Corporation are contractually forbidden from performing any duties for which they are not explicitly trained and certified via SalCorp Employee Enrichment & Productivity Improvement centers. Violation of this policy is grounds for employment and employee termination under subarticle....' Shaggee rattled off the book, chapter, section, subsection & codicil number from memory. HIs childhood nursery had the words 'Do only what you're told and nothing else' painted on the wall. It had been drilled into him before he even began his internship and it had served him well his whole career. Alieth: I am sure you want to reassess your priorities in this matter. Jehe: Consider it this way - the more of them you help us treat, the more...resources can be returned to service and placed back in um....back into the workforce. It could be...initiative! That's it. You'd be showing initiative. Best interests of your employer and all that. For the first time since they had appeared, the aliens seemed to be making sense to Shaggee. He forced his head to stop bobbing. Alieth: Think of it as safeguarding corporate property: while your contract does not precisely include this function, your superiors will certainly reward the safeguarding of the company's assets and your involvement in it. Alieth: It is the only logical course of action. For a moment, Shaggee seriously reconsidered taking his break. The tiny aliens made an interesting proposal and it was the kind of thing his favorite interactive hero, 'Refuse Recycler Ron'a,' would do to help her corp. She'd file the appropriate forms later, but in the moment she'd seize the opportunity to improve the fiscal footing of the corp, whatever it took. Shaggee swelled with pride as he imagined him standing alongside her, the Recyclers anthem ringing in his tympanic canals. In his excitement, he even shouted out her catchphrase. Rod'gurs: PROFITS OVER PEOPLE! Lets get fiscal! Shaggee bounded forward with his confidence significantly outsteping his competence. They came to an injured secondary technical supervisor he'd met once during a seminar on why ethics were improper in the workplace. Alieth: Any ideas about what could happen with them? Shaggee looked over the man and, based on an popular medical series he'd seen a half an episode of, made a diagnosis. Rod'gurs: Ah, yes, ruptured flosfus. Worst case I've seen since the MedicAcademic. He's a goner. Alieth: ...His...flosflus…. : She took a pause, longer than usual, before she kept speaking:: And you consider it a substantial impairment? Shaggee curled his fingers dramatically. Rod'gurs: Yes, he'd need a massive loan to get that treated and it's way outside his compensation band. His productivity is compromised...we've done all we can. Alieth: ...I see… The alien slipped a credit tab on the injured mans uniform then moved on. Shaggee was feeling even more confident, now grasping the intricacies of the aliens ingenious credit assessment system. They moved on from one injured person to the next, the aliens occasionally asking questions and Shaggee guessing at the answers. They seemed satisfied and Shaggee wondered for the first time in his career if he'd been misallocated as a child. Shaggee shook off the unsettling thought and realized an unscheduled employee conference had been called, with many of the remaining semi-productive crew attending. The aliens seemed concerned. Jehe: (Whispering to Alieth) Doc, might want to make a general announcement about covering costs. Everyone seems hesitant to accept help. Alieth: I suppose you are correct.:: Gazing from the intelligence officer to Rod'gurs and back to the former:: I am open to suggestions Rod'gurs: Well, these employees aren't as flexible and resourceful as I am. It's why I'm a vice associate director. I scored at least 3 points higher on the competency exam than any of them. I should write up a memo. Or maybe a presentation. Do you think we could access one of the training auditoriums? I could have slides together in a few clicks. Jehe: Response. She pondered the ideas for a while. Alieth: ::nodding:: That sounds about right. Let us proceed. Rod'gurs: Oh a spontaneous announcement? Well, I haven't had the opportunity to have the verbage reviewed by the departments litigation advisor. ::Shaggee gestured angrily:: He's on the floor over there, not working. ::Shaggee shrugged.:: Fine, I'll get the emergency motivator. Jehe: Response. Shaggee headed for the sealed compartment on the far wall and opened it with a irises scan. His account was invoiced for the equipment rental charges and a hefty deposit. The emergency motivator wasn't terribly powerful, but it would be enough to fill the room with Anroc's majestic voice. He returned to the aliens and inclined his head, prepared. Rod'gurs: Wrap your hands around this handle and your words will fill this room, but your voice will carry all the authority and timber of Shipmaster Anroc himself. You should feel honored, these are normally only used for mass terminations. You should inform them that their credit accounts are being assessed and they will all be invoiced before the end of the next salary period. That's all completely routine. Alieth: Indeed, they will have this offer at their service in exchange for keeping the assigned tags at all times as they will be traded for… Rod'gurs: Advise them that under the circumstances, a one time non-transferrable hardship stipend will be applied to their accounts if, and only if, they accept our terms and conditions. Feel free to add in any clauses or addenda your back office requires. Jehe: Response. Alieth: Once they have been transported to our starship the... Starfleet Corporation will request a series of biometric data that will constitute payment for the services provided. I repeat, you will only be asked for only data, and you may refuse to share what you consider to be inappropriate. The tiny alien was doing surprisingly well. Shaggee wondered how many motivation seminars she had run in her career, and suspected the number was quite high. Alieth: For more information, listen to the instructions of the Ensign Sehe and the Vice Associate Director Rod'gurs who will instruct you on the evacuation process. Shaggee took back the emergency motivator and spoke into it with fervor. Rod'gurs: Remember to ask yourselves 'what have I done for the corp today?' Today, fellow employees, your answer can be 'not dying,' so you can continue being productive associates. Ok, lets get moving, a transcript of this meeting will be available as soon as we find a living member of the stenographic staff. Jehe: Response Employees began moving out of the compartment and towards lifts that would take them back up towards the command deck. Those that couldn't move were carried and Shaggee noted with pride that each and every one wore their new credit assessment tags visibly and proudly. Rod'gurs: So, do you think I can take my break now? Jehe/Alieth: Response Rod'gurs: Oh, well. Do you think we should go with them? Jehe/Alieth: Response Tags/TBC ============== Shaggee Rod'gurs Vice Associate Director Of Crew Fulfillment & Disposal Endless Golden Penetrator V239509GT0

@Geoffrey Teller speaks in Corporate JUST TOO WELL and I don't like it (well, I LOVE it, and it has killed me, 100% ROI here) _____________________________________________________________________________ (( Basic operating chamber for impulse and energy / Reactor chamber - Endless Golden Penetrator)) Jehe: We really are here to help sir. Let the doctor take a look at you, and then we can go tend to any of your...colleagues. The Vulcan nodded briefly, her attention focused on the device she was holding in her hands. Alieth: ::monotonously:: I am here to serve Shaggee didn't know what to make of these bizarre, tiny creatures. Their faces were remarkably featureless, with only two eyes and a dull uniformly colored dermis. The idea of trusting that some random creatures from beyond The Edge were here out of the kindness of their flonds was simply beyond Shaggee's ability. The powerful were powerful because they exploited anyone who wasn't. It was how the deathless had made their fortunes and built the great megacorps. It was how they had purchased control of the civil administration hundreds of years ago, freeing them to do whatever they wanted in the pursuit of greater riches. It was how they ruled the system to this day, and it was the only type of leadership Shaggee had ever known. Rod'gurs: Just please...don't damage my eyes. If I lose more than two I won't be able to keep my job. The alien cast an odd look at him before holding up a machine that made a gentle noise. Shaggee braced for the inevitable blast of pain or searing agony of cut flesh, but none came and after a moment, it was clear none was coming. Shaggee quite simply didn't understand. Alieth: (Gently) If you allow me, I will administer you half a dose of Cortropine is a minor stimulant that will make you feel better. Rod'gurs: But I...I don't have a credit account with you...you couldn't possibly give medicine away without at least a purchase order? A consultation charge? Shipping and handling? ::Shaggee looked from one alien to the other, their expressions confused.:: You couldn't possibly mean it's...it's...::Shaggee had trouble wrapping his flaps around the word::...free. Alieth: Indeed, for free. All six of Shaggee's eyes widened in shock. He had been seen by medical personnel nine times in his forty one cycles, and he had the invoices and debt from each visit in his personal ledger, notated down to the milicredit owed. The idea of receiving services and not paying for them seemed...almost sickeningly alien to him. It felt unnatural and alarming and strangely...good. Rod'gurs: Well..if..I guess...I promise to subscribe to your infostream! You can send me all the marketing material you want! My consumer analytics are yours, even my...very personal analytics! Everything! The small alien withdrew another small tool from her strangely shaped kit, loaded a vial of bright colored liquid then pressed the contraption against his dulcornomoious artery. Braced again for pain, Shaggee almost passed out in relief as the magical medicine surged through his system. He felt like he could work a septuple shift and still have energy to shop at the central bazaar. It was an incredible feeling...and he hadn't spent a credit. If Shaggee could've willed it, he would've died in that moment - as content as he had ever been. Jehe: How long have you been adrift here, if you do not mind my asking? Shaggee tried to get the number straight, but he wasn't entirely sure. He suspected only the deathless had known when the ship was truly lost, and Anroc hadn't bothered to share that information until the ships demise seemed immediately apparent. Rod'gurs: Weeks...months, maybe. Systems started failing almost as soon as we got close to the Edge, but the deathless...uh ::Shaggee looked uncomfortably towards the ceiling and the malevolent face starting down at him::...Shipmaster Pitorian Anroc, glory to him and all the First Eternals...he just told us to keep going. Then people started dying. So many. Alieth: (Blinking again). Interesting. ::Standing up:: Now, can you guide us to your colleagues that require assistance? Shaggee found his energy to be nearly boundless and sprang up, almost bouncing off the floor. Rod'gurs: Yes of course, there were several associate directors and vice presidents assigned to this section, but I'm the vice associate director, so they all report to me. ::Shaggee puffed up in momentary pride before remembering their situation:: well, the ones who are still alive report to me. The dead ones just go into the reclaimer. Are you...are you really going to help us? All of us? Jehe: Well, hopefully we can. We're Starfleet. Stuff like this is what we do best. Alieth: We will do everything in our capacity and about a 33% more The strange name stuck in Shaggee's tympanic canal and he tried to reproduce the alien sound. Rod'gurs: Sar'feet. That is a strange name for a corporation. What's your primary commodity? Voidships? Advanced pharma goods? Good ROI on those. Jehe: Response As they transited through the cavernous bay past busts and frescos of Anroc, Shaggee felt his steps lightening and for a moment thought the alien drug had given him even more extraordinary strength. It wasn't until he realized all of them were hopping from step to step, arcing instead of stepping, that he realized the spingrav system was failing again. Alieth: I suppose that is not a usual feature of this ship. Rod'gurs: No. It's a sign the ship is dying. The deathless....::Shaggee closed his eyes, not looking at any of Anroc's representations as he cursed the mans existence::...the deathless wouldn't stand for the discomfort of nullgrav. It's one of the most reliable systems on the ship. If it's failing, everything else will soon. Jehe: Response They finally made their way to the Employee Productivity Recovery Center where several dozen of the administration team was sprawled against walls or on some of the limited medbeds. The few with good credit had to share the compartments single autodoc, and the mechanism itself was running low on pharma-consumables. Shaggee didn't have enough credit to unlock another canister from the nearby store and no one on the financial services team was available to arrange a short term, high interest loan. Shaggee pointed towards the injured and wagged his flaps, satisfied there was nothing more he could've done. The aliens seemed unconvinced. Alieth: We will have to hurry. Ensign, I assume you are familiar with emergency triage. ::picking up a green card:: If i put one of this, send them to the bridge or contact the captain or commander to determine the nearest transport point. :: Holding up a red card :: You must put a transporter tag on them, they will be the first to be beamed directly to the sickbay. ::Raising an orange:: If you see someone with one of these, you have to decide if they walk or not, it will depend on whether they join the group of the green or the red ones and you should act in accordance. Jehe: Response Shaggee tried to help as best he could. Rod'gurs: Uh, you understand that none of these people can pay, right? I think some of the accounting team is in the next compartment over, maybe if one of them is still alive they could generate a purchase order for you? Whatever would be easiest for your back office team. The aliens seemed to be talking among themselves, organizing small colored shards. One seemed to be of particular import, and Shaggee immediately understood their meaning. Alieth: If you see one of these only... move them away from the transit areas. Rod'gurs: Oh, credit rating labels. That's a very clever idea - you can assign them all to income brackets now and it'll make billing so much easier later. You aliens really are advanced! Jehe: Response Alieth: ::nodding:: Let's go Rod'gurs: I think I'll stay here, my quarterly fifteen minute break is coming up and I really feel like I've earned it. If you need me please leave a message with one of the admin staff...I know some of them survived. Jehe/Alieth: Response Rod'gurs: Oh are you sure? Well, I suppose I can defer it until next month. If you think it's that important. Jehe/Alieth: Response Rod'gurs: Help you treat the injured? I'm not certified for that. It would be a violation of my contract! Jehe/Alieth: Response Tags/TBC ============== Shaggee Rod'gurs Vice Associate Director Of Crew Fulfillment & Disposal Endless Golden Penetrator V239509GT0

It's always a pleasure to see a writer put himself in the skin (or chitin) of a new species, but @Wes Greaves does it magnificently here, giving us a great perspective about the Zets. The trick with the font (which unfortunately doesn't display correctly in half the browsers, so I don't know how it will translate here) is just top notch. Excellent work! __________________________________ Acting Shipmaster Nokzu – The UMF Comes to the Rescue? ((Management & Oversight Center - Endless Golden Penetrator)) The last several hexaclicks had been some of the worst of her life. Nenni rubbed the horny protrusions on the back of her head to try and relieve some of the pressure in her head. They had failed to secure the hull breach and had lost too much fuel. Instead, being able to land on the planetoid they had intended on, instead they were now hurtling toward it with no means to slow down. Many of the centrifugal compartments had been compromised and slowed to a grinding halt and they had taken more hull breaches. A third of the ship had already vented into space. Moreso, they had detected something out past the edge. At first, they couldn’t be entirely sure it wasn’t a comet, but as time had ticked by it became increasingly apparent that their sensors had detected a vessel of some kind, and it was coming right for them. That was nearly five hexaclicks ago. Now the room was dimly lit and nearly abandoned. Nenni had sent the ship’s crew into hiding in the compartments that still had air in them. Either another company had been able to make it past the edge in secret, or there was about to be aliens approaching them. Neither option was a particularly safe one. Especially since they’d received no communications from the approaching vessel. With mere clicks left until intercept, Nenni and Saulan were the only crew in the management center. Silently they waited together wondering what might happen next when suddenly a bright shimmering light filled the front of the massive room. Vaguely Zetenoid shapes began materializing inside the shimmering light. Raising to their full height off their back spurs, the two sprinted to a table and flipped it on its side to take cover. Whispering softly, Nenni turned to Saulan. Nokzu: Have you ever heard of technology like that? Saulan: ? Nokzu: Dear Klin’thu, these might be real aliens… (pause) Be ready for anything my friend. Saulan: ? Nenni unholstered a small handheld device with a tiny protruding metal barrel and kept it pointed toward the ground. Peaking from the corner of the table, she watched as the creatures began making noises to one another. Teller: I heard stories of Orion Slavemasters who us̶̯̅̈́ed to display material wealth like this as a form of...bragg̵̱̀̓ing. Showing off to the others. I think whoever designed this place ̶̠̬́had them all beat. You two getting any readings? Alieth/Jehe: Response Teller: Damn, if spin-ĝ̵̛͈ravity is failing it's going to make our job that much harder. Ensign Jehe, start setting up those pattern enhancers. There seems to be plenty of space. Doctor, let’s see if we can find ạ̷̼̅n interface for the ships computer. If there is one. Alieth/Jehe: Response Nenni turned back to her friend, her eyes wide after watching the short pink and harry things on her ship. As she moved, the object in her hand collided ever so gently against the table and a soft metal clank resounded throughout the compartment. Geoff's head snapped around, a flash of movement on the very edge of his peripheral vision. On the other side of the room, crouched down behind an overturned table, something had tried to sneak a glimpse at them. Teller: Greetings. We're responding to your distress call. Can you understand me? The noises the creature made began twisting through the air and in Nenni’s mind until finally they resolved into something coherent. In common. oO How… Oo She traded looks with Saulan and stoof from behind the table. Compared to the deathless Nenni was short, but being face to face with these hairy creatures she felt like a towering presence. oO Is this how the deathless see us? Oo Nokzu: I… I understand you. How… is this possible? Who are you? Saulan: Response Teller: My name is Commander Geoffrey Teller, from the Federation Starship Thor. We're here to help you. ::Geoff tried to be diplomatic:: Nice..uh...nice ship you've got here. Nenni blinked her six eyes simultaneously. Federation? The United Mercantile Federation? That made no sense. Sure, they were working on a competitor ship to the Golden Penetrator, but the company’s best information said that the Penetrator was years ahead of them on development. Besides, how could they have this technology and no one know about it? And this crew, the creatures that spoke in strange noises, but somehow, she could understand. It all made no sense. Saulan: ? Nokzu: And I am Acting Shipmaster Nenni Nokzu. The UMF sent you to our aid? I’m sorry, I don’t exactly understand. Teller/Alieth/Jehe: ? Saulan: ? Nenni tried to take in it all. The noises the creatures made seemed to echo slightly from their language into common, and some of their words were hard to follow. Nokzu: You said you’re here to help. Saulan can describe the damage we have, but our biggest issue right now is fuel. Does your ship have any to spare? Teller/Alieth/Jehe/Saulan: ? Tags! and TBC! ========================= Nenni Nokzu Acting Shipmaster Endless Golden Penetrator E239702WG0 =========================

I have always said that one of the great advantages of our format (and one of the things I really like to read and aspire to be able to portray one day with my writing) is consequences. Although we write in an episodic way, more or less, what we write affects our characters, polishes them or breaks them and changes their way of seeing the world and relating to others. To witness these two wonderful writers here, dealing with the consequences of the previous mission as the starting gun for a new one is delightful, and I could have read six more parts of it. @Alex Brodieand @Tony, aka Kells being great here as usual. Kudos, guys JP: Flt. Capt. Kells & Lt. Cmdr. Brodie - “Shouldering A Burden” ((Captain’s Ready Room, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Alex had one more stop on his rounds and it was the highest office in the land - or at least the highest office on the ship. He pressed the chime on the outside of the door and waited to be admitted. Kells: Come in, Counselor. Brodie had only seen Kells twice since he’d been injured on New Bajor. The first was immediately in the wake of his injuries while he was still convalescing in his biobed and the second was when he had breezed into, and then out of, his office to hand him some more items for his ‘fruit salad’. The man was due a follow-up as his injuries, even to Alex’s medically untrained eye, had looked quite severe and it was the damage and injuries you couldn’t see that concerned him. He stepped through the door and found Kells sitting at his desk fighting the greatest enemy of Starfleet and the Federation - admin. Brodie: Captain, thank you for seeing me. Aron offered a wan smile. He’d just finished with a round of comm calls, in which he’d assigned teams and tasks ahead of the Thor’s arrival at the ship (if it was a ship) that was apparently in distress (if indeed it was). They had several hours or travel time, so Aron had left himself only half an hour for this appointment. It was meant to be longer than that, but even half an hour felt like a luxury at the moment, even with the travel time. Going to counseling at all felt a little like a luxury, though Aron tried to dismiss this thought. It was a persistent and untrue belief among captains that counseling wasn’t necessary, but Aron had always tried to instill the opposite in himself and in his officers. Now, more than ever, he tried to cling to that. Kells: Thank you, Alex. I’m afraid it needs to be short today, in the light of this distress call. Alex nodded with a frown and gestured back towards the door he had just come through and bridge that lay beyond. Brodie: Aye, I heard something on those lines as I was walking through - all sounds very mysterious. Alex couldn’t help but think back to the Fortuna. That had been a very mysterious distress call too...back when he had first joined the fleet. He hoped this would play out slightly better for Salo, Jehe, Udro and other new arrivals to the Thor. Kells: And speaking of, I’d like you to grab Doctor Quen and Ensign Dar sometime in the next few hours. I don’t know whether we’ll be dealing with refugees or annoyed pirates or broken robots or what, but between the three of you, I think you can handle anything that might need our assistance. This was a broad order and Aron knew it. At the moment, though, he didn’t think he had anything more to give. He hoped that the science officers on the bridge and his own strat ops team would be able to provide both the counselor’s team and Geoff’s away team with more information as the Thor approached the signal’s point of origin. Brodie: ::smiling:: So...prepare for everything then? :::Taking a seat:: Although, if it is any of the above three then I’m well practiced. Anyway, we’ve some time before we’re there and I’m sure Geoff can handle anything that might come up in the meantime...so...push ::gesturing to the pile of PADDS:: all that to one side for a moment and take a moment to breathe. Kells: I know, I know, no work. (beat) Okay. That’s the last I’ll think about it. That was a lie and they both knew it, but Aron screwed his eyes shut for a moment, hoping that it would be enough to signal to his thoughts that he wanted a brief respite. Brodie: So, somewhat later than I’d have liked but our respective schedules have kept clashing, but - how are you? ::Eying the PADDS again:: Other than slightly over worked? The question, much like Kells’ order, was broad. It was one of the hardest questions to answer but it left nothing off the table and it wasn’t as much what was said but how it was said. The body language, the facial expressions as they thought on an answer could give away a great many things. Kells: (quickly) I’ve been fine. (beat, more normal) You know, the Gratitude Festival helped. It was better to have some downtime. But even as he said so, Aron’s expression caught for a moment. The Festival had also meant that he had been back down on New Bajor, and although he’d been nowhere near the place where he’d been shot, just beaming down had been enough of a struggle. The change in expression did not go unnoticed - action units one, four and fifteen...with a few other things thrown in. Brodie: I’m told it was quite a ceremony...and I’m glad you’ve been able to get a little respite, you have been through a lot. ::He pointed to the man's arm:: How is the shoulder by the way? Kells: It’s healing as expected. Our medical staff work wonders. Brodie: ::Nodding:: They certainly do...probably a little lingering stiffness for a while. It’s amazing how much you move your shoulder though the working day. Brodie knew from his own experience how painful and linering something as, relatively, simple as a stab wound was. He was fairly sure that massive explosive damage would take a little longer. Kells: I’ve been learning just how much. I had no idea, really. Brodie: Any other effects? ::Pause:: Obviously everyone reacts to a traumatic event differently - psychologically speaking. Sometimes it’s very obvious - flashbacks, nightmares for example. Aron started to answer, to say that he hadn’t had any after-effects. But Brodie had given him extreme examples. Aron hadn’t experienced nightmares after this, and he certainly had before. But that wasn’t exactly what Brodie was asking, and he knew it. Kells: I haven’t had those (beat) particular symptoms. Brodie: Other times it can be more subtle...numbing or avoidance tactics…::Glancing at the PADDs again:: Distracting oneself with work to try and restore normality...for example. Kells: (with a brief smile) Definitely that. Brodie: ::Smiling slightly himself:: I’m only-half joking...do you feel you’ve been coping well? Kells: Generally, some difficulty concentrating. Trouble sleeping, sometimes. And I’ve felt either like I have too much or too little energy. Alex nodded, hyperarousal was another tell-tale sign. Brodie: Now, I think we both know that’s not quite right. Again Aron smiled briefly. Kells: Don’t worry. I’m not going to say I’m fine and dismiss you. But this isn’t my first time in a situation like this, or in dealing with post-traumatic stress. This was, Aron thought for a moment, its own problem. How upsetting was it that he thought of this sort of fallout as normal for an officer with a long service record? But that was a systemic problem, and one that he couldn’t solve with Brodie in the next twenty minutes. Kells: I want to continue to work with you, Alex, but you have to trust me, too. I can’t manage without help, but I can manage with help, and that’s where I need you. Kells: I can still function as this crew’s CO, with the support I need. Alex leaned forwards in his chair. Brodie: Aron, ::He deliberately used the man's first name:: if I thought for a single moment that you were not capable of commanding this vessel through a psychological impairment we wouldn’t be having this conversation alone. We would be having it in my office, with Alieth and Geoff present, and I would do my duty and be relieving you of command. Alex had read the man's file, as much as was available to him without seeking additional clearance, and he was aware that he had been through a great deal throughout his career - particularly his time aboard the Drake and the Mercury. He could tell they must have been bad...if he’d have made a word cloud the latest would be ‘Redacted’. He’d ask him about it one day...but now wasn’ the time to open up old wounds while the new ones were still healing. Kells: (quietly) I know. Brodie: Like I say - we’re not there. I guess what I’m saying is I do trust you...and you need to trust me. We’ve both got your well-being, and that of the crew, at the top of our agenda. I’ll just say - don’t suffer in silence, it isn’t worth it. Kells: I can promise that I won’t. Which sounded as though he wouldn’t, but that isn’t what Aron had meant. He appreciated Brodie’s presence, and the fact that he had a staff of counselors at all spoke to the fact that Starfleet valued the mental health of all their officers. Brodie was on the bridge, too, with the rest of the bridge crew and (not incidentally) most of the senior staff, and Aron knew that the placement wasn’t simply coincidental. Brodie: The door is always open - nothing is too trivial and no hour is too late or too early. Like you say, you need support - and I’m here to provide it. Kells: I’ll take you up on that. (beat, then seriously) I know that you wouldn’t hesitate to act in the best interest of the crew. I hope that I wouldn’t, either, if I was compromised. But having your assessment is still -- reassuring. Brodie: ::Alex widened his arms:: Reassurance is just one of the many services we offer down on Deck Ten. Aron took a deep breath, which he let out in a short sigh. Kells: As soon as we’ve completed this current mission, I’ll want to meet again, and more frequently. Brodie: And I’d be happy to oblige, or if not me then one of my colleagues. He was thinking of Salo although given he was the chief counsellor and any ultimate decision to make changes to a flag officers duty would be scrutinised heavily he would be aiming to manage this one personally. Kells: Of course. And feel free to shuffle me around to your colleagues. I know you have plenty of other patients. Aron frowned slightly. Was that the right word? Was he a patient at that moment, and would he no longer be when he and Brodie left the ready room? He wasn’t sure, but he also wasn’t sure what else he might call himself in the moment -- a client, a customer? No, everything else sounded wrong. Alex had worked in medical care, where they tended to be patients. Research, where they were called participants. Private practice, where they tended to be clients. Alongside FedSec, where they tended to be called convicts….and once at a dabo tournament, where they were called competitors. Personally he always prefered client. They were availing themselves of his services and he was there to service their needs...a humble servant. Did that make them masters? Counsellee...was that even a word? He snapped back from whatever thought he was having...Kells appeared to be the same. Brodie: Well ::Standing up:: I suppose I should track down Deena and Elandra and assemble the continency committee. Rest assured, Captain, we’ll be ready for whatever awaits us. Kells: (slight smile) I know that, too. Brodie: As I said, the door is always open. Kells: I’ll take advantage of it, believe me. Aron stood as well, and offered his hand. He had been a patient -- or client -- a few moments ago, but with the appointment finished, he needed to become the ship’s CO. He slipped back into the role as if he was donning a comfortable old shirt. Kells: Keep me apprised of your progress, Commander. If I’m unavailable, Commander Garcia has the conn. Brodie: Aye Sir, I’ll let you know as soon as preparations are complete. Although, as he left, he did wonder exactly what they were preparing for. END Simmed By Fleet Captain Aron Kells Commanding Officer USS Thor V238208LV0 & Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 Writer ID.: A239005BM0 ------------------------------------

@Alex Brodie has really been kicking out quality sims lately. Another great one, and I just love the symbolism. ((Arboretum, Deck Five, USS Thor)) Alex wiped his brow, smearing dirt across it as he did so. There were dozens - probably dozens of dozens - of trees already in the Arboretum but this was something a little more special. He had been hoping that it would have arrived during the repairs and refit of the vessel at Deep Space Nine but that was not to be. Now the next supply chain had caught up with them he was finally able to make this small gesture. When people said the word Thor they were instantly greeted with mental images of the ancient Norse god of thunder, storms and all-round hammer enthusiast. There was, however, a deeper meaning. The ship's dedication plaque read: “Borders? I have never seen one. But I have heard they exist in the minds of some people.” This was a quotation attributed to Thor Heyerdahl – an explorer from Norway who was alive in the twentieth century. Not only was he an explorer but he also had a background in zoology, botany and geography and his most notable expedition was to show that ancient peoples could have made long sea voyages across the earth creating contacts between different societies. He had also searched, on four separate occasions it should be noted, for the civilization he believed Odin had been part of – although this was never validated. In short, it was possibly the most apt name for the Vesta class multi-mission explorer. The similarities didn’t stop there, however, as both of the ships long range Arrow class runabouts were also named after reed boats that Heyerdahl had constructed as part of his adventures – the Ra and the Tigris. Brodie wanted to honour these two worlds in some small way after the Hammerfall Incident and, while exploration, zoology and geography were all worthy causes, he had chosen to focus on botany. The pushed, with some assistance from the operations team, the large root cluster of the tree over the edge of the hole and into the soil that filled the arboretum. It always amazed him just how much weight the ship could take…when he thought about runabouts and fighters and cargo he was surprised the ship didn’t fall out of orbit. The team he’d been working with picked their shovels back up and began to refill the area around the roots of the Ash tree. It wasn’t mighty just yet – nor was he sure it would ever be so in these artificial surroundings – but it was a gesture that he felt was required. The ‘Vikings’ of the USS Thor, of which Brodie being of Scottish ancestry was probably the closest actual Viking they had, were a tight knit crew who had been through a lot. Key high/low-lights had included kidnappings, attempted assassinations, political intrigues, discovery of new species and the near destruction of their home but they had come through it all – life had found a way. That's what this ‘mighty’ ash tree was – Yggdrasil…at least symbolically. Sometimes called the Tree of Life he actually thought the names translated as ‘Odin’s Horse’ but more in the sense of a gallows or a frame to support everything around it. Odin’s actual horse being an eight-legged beast called Sleipnir. Alex shuddered at the thought of trying to break a creature like that – but if you were a god… That, however, was beside the point. The crew of the USS Thor were not only the worlds, but they were also the gallows. They individuals who supported and protected each other – at this ash tree would stand as a symbol of that. He pushed the small brass plaque into the sod at the foot of the tree: may the crew of the Thor find comfort in it’s shade and strength in its branches. FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

A JP between one of our newer members @Brutus and a well established member @Sirok that I thoroughly enjoyed. ((USS Ra - Leaving DS9)) The orders for Ensign Jehe were not the most usual. Picking up a civilian from DS9 to take him to New Bajor. Her passenger was an old Vulcan. The man even used a cane, denoting that despite all the Federation's medical advances time reaches everyone, even the long-lived Vulcans. He wore a simple tunic, but the fabric and the small embroidery he wore with words in Vulcan denoted a great quality in his craftsmanship. He presented himself simply as Sobok and his speech, though monotone, was not as uncomfortable and flat as that of other Vulcans. Jehe Saja had encountered a few Vulcans during her time at the Academy, and had found the species, as a whole, to be somewhat the opposite of her own. Bajorans were often known for fiery tempers and Vulcans kept a close reign on their emotions, tighter than any other species she had met to date. But at the same time, she’d seen glimpses of Vulcan spiritualism, that allowed her to believe that perhaps, they weren’t so different as she might like. Thus, when facing the elder Vulcan who would accompany her to her new posting, she greeted the opportunity as just that: an opportunity. She had kept her own introductions just as brief,as she’d resisted the urge to adjust the black collar of her uniform, denoting her position within the auspices of Starfleet Intelligence. He asked Jehe to take his things inside the Runaboat, so that he could walk more easily. Once they started the trip the Vulcan did not go to the living area, but chose the co-pilot's seat. He left his cane on the chair and relaxed his arms on the armrests. He didn't say anything, his gaze reminded him of a Starfleet flight instructor. Every time Jehe introduced a command into the console the man seemed to judge every little decision, or it was simply the severe look of a Vulcan, even though he had no eyebrows. Sobok: I know that on the new maneuver thrusters it is less necessary but if you adjust the ... :: He brought one of his hands close to the panel and quickly introduced several adjustments to the maneuvering drive, but without executing them. :: But you are the pilot today. Jehe: oO Well, looks like I am learning something today Oo Jehe: Thank you, sir. ::She reached forward, re-entering the commands herself, so that she would be familiar with them, and punched the execution:: While I have shuttle pilot training, it’s not my primary vocation. Sobok: You can always learn more. And in Starfleet, getting as much knowledge as possible will help you better accomplish your mission. Even if you think it is not your specialty. Many officers are pigeonholed in their department rather than trying to be more complete. The man looked again into the blackness of space, trying to find with his eyes the place where the wormhole should open. Jehe: You sound like you speak from experience. Even as she spoke, Saja readjusted the approach of the runabout. She’d not been told anything about her passenger really, other than that he was seeking transport to New Bajor, and as she was going to her own assignment in orbit of that planet, she was tagged to escort him. She hardly minded, and in truth was working harder to repress her own near giddiness at getting to enter the Celestial Temple. After a small lapse of time the ship crossed the space that separated the station from the wormhole. Illuminating everything with a blue light. Sobok:Ensign, do you believe that prophets are gods? The question, though abrupt, was asked in the same instructive tone he had had moments before. For a long moment, the Bajoran did not respond, as the ship made its way closer to the aperture, to be guided into the swirling light. Saja forced herself to breathe and nodded her head, though she did not allow herself to look away. Jehe: I do, yes. At least, they meet most definitions of ‘gods’ that I have heard, and have been demonstrably active in the history of my people. ::She tilted her head and chuckled softly:: And my father is a Prylar. I’d be a rather poor daughter if I did not believe in the Prophets. Sobok: Interesting. :: He simply said, without trying to change the Bajoran's mind. The bushy haired intelligence officer nodded, and drew her attention back to her console as the runabout gave a shudder. They were approaching the event horizon of the wormhole, and Saja had to make some minor adjustments. Jehe: Compensating for spatial drift. I’m told the ride will be a bit bumpy. She didn’t outright say ‘maybe you should strap in’ but she thought it pretty hard. Sobok:Try to give some more energy to the inertial dampers, there has to be a configuration for the wormhole. ((USS Ra - Entering Bajoran Wormhole)) And then, they were inside the Celestial Temple, and it was all that Saja could do not to gape like a fish. As Sobok switched his gaze between the view from the front window and the instrument panels. Sobok:Is this the first time you travel through the wormhole? ::Sobok did not know if the runoboat came from the Thor, or if it came directly from DS9.:: Jehe: Yessir. Though I grew up on Freehaven, one of the Bajoran colonies, I’ve never had the chance to experience this before. ::She had made the adjustments suggested and the flight evened out, as her head slowly turned side to side, taking in the truly alien vista before them:: And you? Sobok: No, although I had a first officer. Rashur Sul, who often insisted that we try to get closer. But Bajor and the Wormhole was far from our area of operation. It is certainly an interesting experience. The Vulcan was slightly incorporated and carefully observed the data on the console. Alternating with the immensity of blue before them. Sobok: Soon after, the war with the Klingons began and immediately after with the Dominion. She was no longer my first officer after that. Jehe: I didn’t realize you served. I apologize. They didn’t really brief me on my passenger. ::She frowned for a moment.:: I was born during the conflict. I can’t say that I remember much of it at all, just stories from my family. The ship finished its transit through the wormhole. The interior of the ship was once again illuminated only by its own light. In the pilot’s seat, Saja began a series of system checks to confirm that there had been no issues with the runabout. Her pulse was still racing from the trip through the Temple. It had been magnificent - even if only only looked at it from a purely secular viewpoint. Sobok: It was interesting. The old vulcan took his cane and with the help of it and the armrest he stood up. Sobok: Do you need help for the rest of the trip? Otherwise I will try to rest a little. I have a lot to do in the New Bajor. Jehe: I should be fine sir. Please, take all the rest you need. I’ll notify you when we’re on our final approach. The old Vulcan nodded in what might have seemed like gratitude. But to nod was to show a feeling, he had simply nodded to imply that he understood what the ensign had said. True, the old Vulcan knew that some people confused the two facts. And that begins guided by their feelings felt better in the presence of such emotional displays. So the old Vulcan did not take them out of their error. The ship traveled for a few hours in warp until it reached New Bajor. Following standard procedure it went to impulse as it approached the system. From space, it could still see some ravages caused by the blight. Although some improvement was already visible since the arrival of Thor. The Ra continued to approach the planet's orbit, but on its trajectory it passed near its mother ship, the Thor. Illuminated by the planet, it shone with its characteristic blue color of its hull and its slender form. Sobok observed it from one of the windows when they passed near it. The Vulcan returned to the command module. Sobok: I have loaded the coordinates of my meeting point on the transporter, Ensign. Your mission is over. Jehe: Very well, sir. ::She rose to accompany him to the transporter pad.:: If you’ll step up here. Sobok: Live long and prosper, Jehe Saja. :: He said by raising his hand and making the characteristic greeting of his culture. :: Energize. Jehe: ::Carefully approximating the gestures:: Peace and Long Life, Sobok. Lowering her hands, she activated the transporter sequence and watched as the eldarly Vulcan whom ahd been her passenger for the duration of the trip vanished in the familiar swirl of blue white motes, leaving behind an empty pad. Jehe: oO I hope he finds what he was looking for. Oo With that, she returned to the conn and adjusted her course to take the runabout to it - and her - new home. ========================================= Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S1 & Ens. Jehe Saja Intelligence Officer USS Thor T239712JS0

I'm blown away by the amount of talented writers we have in this community, and I considered myself blessed that I have the opportunity to write on not one, but TWO ships where I get to read these wonderful stories by these fantastic writers. This is the beginning of the Thor's next mission. What a way to introduce it! ((Management & Oversight Center - Endless Golden Penetrator)) Lounging imperiously upon a shimmering technological throne, Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc, Owner of the Endless Golden Penetrator, was in a fit of pique. It was now a foregone conclusion he was going to die. He huffed in mild annoyance at what a terribly embarrassing inconvenience this would be for him and his entire organization. Running a hand along his exquisitely crafted suit of clothes, Anroc experienced a brief sartorial joy at the feel of the luxurious silken garments, but it was fleeting. With six eyes, he took in the meticulously appointed command deck, built to his exacting specifications and ostentatious personal tastes. Priceless objet d'art and sumptuous glowmarble inlay had cost millions of credits, and the ship had cost hundreds of billions more. All for another humiliating public failure that was likely to impact their net worth substantially when the annual fiscal picture was reviewed. The fact that eleven hundred and sixty three crewmen and women would die alongside him trapped aboard a crippled ship, stranded at the Edge with no hope of rescue, hadn’t crossed his mind. They were only ephemerals, afterall. Sooner or later, they always died. The larger nuisance would be the staffing issues following this loss of “biological capital,” but the possibility had been considered prior to their mission and the corporation would begin acting on those contingencies soon. From a meticulously handcrafted songwood side table, Anroc lifted a livecrystal goblet that hummed soothingly in response to the warmth of his strong, 3 fingered hand. Filling it with a dram of liquor that would cost the average worker their life savings to acquire, Anroc paused and then, feeling entirely sorry for himself, he poured two more drams. He was going to die today, after all. He tisked to himself as the throne continued its work. Such a nuisance. One of the senior crew ephemerals, Nenni Nokzu, moved towards the dais of the Shipmaster with a bowed head and short, hesitant steps. When Anroc’s drink was agreeably warming his pallet a few minutes later, he turned his head ever so slightly and gave the faintest sign of contemptuous acknowledgement. Nokzu: Shipmaster, if it pleases you... Anroc snapped back at the woman with a combination of boredom and venom. He didn’t bother making eye contact with someone so far beneath him. Anroc: It most certainly does not. If I must suffer this annoyance, you could at least address me using my proper title. ::Anroc was immediately disgusted, his mood souring further:: You do know my full and proper title, of course? Nokzu kept her pale head bowed low and racked her brain. The journey had taken six years just to get where they were at now, and in that whole time serving as the first officer, she’d always stumbled over the long string of namesakes. Speaking slowly to give herself more time, Nokzu worked through it out loud. Nokzu: Owner and Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting… She was pretty sure she’d missed a word in there somewhere. This man was their doom and she couldn’t even appease him at the most basic level. When he didn’t immediately chastise her however, Nokzu decided to press on. aswq Nokzu: … The matter displacement array is completely destroyed. Two of the crew were killed trying to effect the repairs, but it’s a lost cause. With her head low, she winced at the thought to the pair of engineers who had been killed. The chitinous plates on her back shifted slightly like a cat twitching it’s fur. They’d been good men. Friends. Nokkzu: The same impact that destroyed it also damaged the fuel storage. We’re losing fuel and we’ll have no way to decelerate when we reach the Edge. The mission is doomed, shipmaster. Anroc took in this catastrophic declaration with the air of a man who had lost his third favorite hat. Anroc: Ah, so no hope at all then? Such a waste. ::Anroc refilled his glass, this time to capacity. Gesturing towards the half empty crystal decanter, Anroc tried to speak slowly, annunciating each word so even the dimmest ephemeral could understand:: This bottle alone is worth more than a hundred of you, and I have a case in my suites - a splendid gift from my ninth mistress. What am I to tell him? That I simply abandoned his lovely token? A sour taste filled Nokzu’s mouth. Outrage swelled in her chest. She had two children back home. After the briefest moment however, her outrage dissipated. It was a skill she’d honed over decades of serving the deathless, and one of the reasons she’d been hand selected for this mission. Nokzu: There is a small planetoid a week away. We could land on it before the fuel runs out. From there, if we radio the homeworld for assistance, in a decade or two we might be rescu... Anroc rose to his full three meter height in instant fury. Anroc: A distress signal?! Do you have any idea how humiliating it would be for the corporation to have the media rebroadcasting a pathetic cry for help from what was supposed to be our shining triumph? You’ve already failed to take this ship beyond the Edge, don’t compound your mistake with another, or I’ll see to it you’ll never be employed again! That was it. Her last hope. Even traveling at the speed of light it’d take their message nearly five years to reach home, and then six more for another ship to reach theirs. That all hinged on the Shipmaster’s willingness to send the message though. Now, that hope was gone, as was her chance of ever seeing her children again. Employment be damned, Nokzu welled up with anger again, but this time she failed to push it back down. In defiance she rose to her two and half meter height, Anroc still towering over her. Nokzu: (Raising her slender head and locking all six eyes on Anroc) I’ll never be employed again as it is Shipmaster! This ship will be my tomb! Anroc could see the flair of defiance behind the ephemerals eyes and moved to snuff it out instantly. This one had clearly forgotten themselves, and Anroc suspected being away from home for so long had eroded its weak, simple mind. Anroc: Don’t use that insolent tone with me you loathsome chattel! If you’re dead, I’ll make certain no one in your family ever works, no matter what barren airless asteroid farm they run to. Your children will be eating vermin by the end of the year...if they’re fortunate! Fire flashed in her eyes. Indignation, outrage, and fury roiled within Nokzu’s chest. For a time she maintained eye contact until she finally acknowledged the truth behind his words. Her life may be lost, but Nokzu could still help the future of her children. Nokzu: I apologize for my… insolence Shipmaster. You know how us… ephemerals can be. What are your orders for the ship? The moment passed but Anroc could still smell a grotesque, lingering musk of pheromones - not only from Nokzu, but now from some of the other ephemerals on the bridge. The bitter scents of desperation and rage muddled up with the awful pungent aroma of insolence. Around him, the throne had begun to glow a shimmering green and a faint twinkling hum was filling the command deck. It was nearly time. Anroc finished the last of his drink, some small pleasure salvaged from the otherwise disappointing day. Anroc: I don’t particularly care what you do at this point, but if you send that distress call and the corporation hears of it, I promise that death is the least terrible thing you have to worry about. With that, Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc stabbed at a jewel encrusted control on the throne's arm. The glow within the throne intensified until it was nearly blinding, then snapped out all at once. Anroc’s body, still rigid and imperious upon the throne, was vacant and dead. The light behind all six of his eyes had been extinguished. His exquisite clothing and priceless jewelry were now macabre ornaments on a rapidly cooling corpse. Nokzu: (Mumbling) Good riddance you skel’echt. Nokzu shoved the body of the ageless corpse off the mantle and pushed it to the side. She’d deal with it later. Taking a seat in the throne herself, the woman massaged the small horns on the back of her head as she contemplated what to do. The sound of a door opening made her look up as a colleague entered the command deck. The woman’s clothes were stained and had some small tears. Exhaustion could be seen on her face. Saulan: The breach on deck 23 is getting worse. They are trying to reinforce it but they don't know how much it will hold. Nokzu: Anroc is gone. Everything on this ship has already been written off as a loss for the corp. We’re on our own now. She leaned back in the massive and ornamented chair, the weight of her decisions now bearing down on her. Nokzu’s eyes flicked over the room as the rest of the command crew watched her. They all had families back home. She’d met many of them before they left so many years ago. Nokzu counted in her head and the numbers came easily to her as the welfare of each member of the crew was her responsibility. 897 widows, 142 orphans. That was the fallout of this ship not returning. Finally she turned back toward the engineer, a renewed strength filling her. Nokzu: Helm, set a course for planetoid Sigma 438, full burn. (Turning to the other side of the room) Operations, start calculating the fuel cost for our deceleration burn and landing on that rock. I need to know that we’ve got enough to make it. Turning back to the engineer, Nokzu blinked, not wanting to say what she had to. Nokzu: Saulan, if we lose too much fuel we’ll die for sure. We must seal that breach at all costs. At all costs. Do you understand? Saulan: They do their best. But I will try... to encourage them. :: His voice was tired and became more sinister at the end of the sentence. :: Nokzu: One more thing, old friend. It would take years for a message to get back to the homeworld. I know you’ve been working with radios your whole life. Is there anything you can do to get that signal out faster? Saulan: There is a theory, that by focusing a signal at a certain frequency in line with the Edge emissions can be accelerated. Although we do not fully understand how. The problem is that it would have to be focused on, and hopefully bounce back to the home planet. Nokzu: We’ve got nothing else to lose. Try. It’s our only hope we have to see our families again. Saulan: I will configure the emitter. Give me a moment. Before the disaster Saulan would be excited to try something like this. If it worked, her name could be on the patent, and she could find a comfortable position in the organization's colleges. Now it was a simple act of desperation. Saulan sat at the communications console and was reconfiguring the emitter matrix to do what they wanted. He had to stop a couple of times to talk to the executive section chief of rapid maintenance, so that they could repair the breach. Nokzu watched the man work for a moment before turning back toward the rest of the bridge crew. They’d heard the exchange with Anroc. They all understood the cost of calling out for help. Nokzu turned the decision over in her mind several times and for a couple of minutes they all worked in silence. A silence she finally broke. Nokzu: As soon as you’re ready, Saulan, send the distress call. Saulan: Ready. Sending the signal. There, trapped by the manyfold intersecting layers of nebular gasses and exotic subspace fields, The Endless Golden Penetrator shouted past the Edge of known space. No one knew what lay beyond the Edge, and all expeditions to penetrate it over the millennia had come to the same inglorious end. As the Penetrator sent out its desperate call for an unlikely rescue, the fields of the nebula briefly attenuated and massively amplified the signal. Distorted but intact, the message tumbled through subspace, echoing far beyond the Edge and outward, into a region of space that Federation astronomers would call ‘The Gamma Quadrant.’ [Fin] ========================== Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc Owner & Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting & Magnificent V239509GT0 & Nenni Chu’To’Lem’Ri Nokzu Acting Shipmaster Endless Golden Penetrator E239702WG0 & Saulan Ket’han Deputy Director of Daily Operations Endless Golden Penetrator E239702S10 =========================

Where we get to see a bit more of Sobok as well as our beloved Chief Engineer, @Sirok. The title itself just conveys a lot, and I love it. ((USS Thor, Main Engineering)) Several crew members performed their usual tasks of inspection and maintenance of the different systems. They were illuminated by the blue light of the bending engine that emitted its characteristic hum, which reached the whole ship. The chief engineer worked on the holographic table, visualizing the data from the ship's systems. Checking for any irregularities. For some it would be a tedious job, for Sirok it was an opportunity to be methodical, to sort out his own thoughts while taking care of the ship's own systems. His concentration was interrupted by the sound of the communicator. Larell: =/\=Lieutenant, a civilian has arrived from New Bajor, he says he wants to see you. He says his name is Sobok. =/\= Sirok looked away from the holographic table , just before turning it off. Sirok: =/\=On my way. =/\= Larell: =/\=Understood. =/\= ((USS Thor, Transporter room 1)) Sirok entered the transporter room. And he found Larell talking to a very old Vulcan. His complexion was dark and hairless, even in his eyebrows. His back was already slightly crooked and he was wearing a traditional light-colored robe that was very well made. He supported part of his weight on a simple black cane. Larell: With this type of coils we improve the stability of the transporter buffer. ::She happily explained to the hieratic Vulcan, who listened to her carefully. :: Sirok: Live long and prosper, Sobok :: He said it in standard in deference to Larell. :: The old Vulcan turned around, excusing himself with his hand to Larell because he could no longer hear his explanation. Sobok: Live long and prosper... :: Sobok looked at the engineer's neck. :: Liutenant Sirok. Sirok: I was not expecting his visit, although he is welcome. Miss Larell, do you know if he has any assigned quarters? :: Since Teller decided to call him Chief Sirok, he avoided using ranks with his NCOs to avoid confusion, not out of disrespect. :: Larell: Ehm, yes sir. ::The young Boslic woman approached her console. :: One of the quarters on deck 13. We have already sent his luggage there, would you like someone to call to accompany him? Sirok: No Miss Larell, I will do it. ::He looked her straight in the eye. ::Good job. Larell: Thank you, sir. :: He responded with a slightly disconcerting tone. :: Sobok attended the conversation without saying anything, calmly observing how the two Thor crew members behaved. Sirok: I will show you your quarters, come with me. Sobok nodded and started to walk towards the door, stopping for a moment in front of the transporter chief. Sobok: That was a great explanation, Larell. I expect we will meet again. :: In spite of the monochordic tone of voice, it seemed to have a certain warmth. :: After his farewell, he walked leaning on his cane in the direction of the door, following the engineer. Sirok was waiting for him in his usual hieratic posture, when Sobok arrived where he was, he began the march towards the turbolift. Sobok: I see you trying to use my advice to deal with beings driven by their feelings. Sirok: I try to do it but it is not always successful. Larell is an example, I have been told that they must get used to my leadership style. Sobok: This is partly true, but we cannot impose logic on them. For many of them their minds are not able to function as they should. They are attached to their feelings. So to function well, as officers we must adapt. Satisfy them to their feelings so that they give the best of themselves. Sirok: It is not like lying? Sobok: Acting, not lying. It is part of your job as an officer. If you were a technician and only dealt with the machine or enjoyed a crew that entirely followed logic, it would not be necessary, but part of your job is to make them work well, as a team. Authority helps, but it is not the only way. They both walked through the corridors, occasionally crossing with some crew member, surprised to see an old Vulcan walking with the robotic chief engineer. Sobok: You have been promoting very fast, more than I have in my day. So you will have to adapt faster than I did. But if you have made it this far at this speed, you can do it. I have heard about your Captain, he is a reputable man, many officers who have served under him have had brilliant careers. You can trust his judgment. Sirok nodded as they entered the turbolift, Sobok had been a Captain for many, many years, making him a reliable source. Sirok: Deck 13. May I ask what you do in the Gamma Quadrant? Sobok: I try to help your father establish new business deals to get more resources for the Romulan colonies in Vulcan. They said there were opportunities on New Bajor, but as you know, there are not. Sirok: Unfortunately, they are a clear example of why Surak's teachings are so important. :: He knew that their experience might not be a sufficient sample of all of New Bajor, but given the problems they had had it did not seem very misguided. ::But that does not explain why you have boarded the Thor. Sobok: I know its new direction and it is close to where I have to go. In addition I can update my knowledge and of course, know your status first hand. Sirok: That last was not necessary. The turbolift doors opened, revealing the corridor on deck 13. Sobok: On the contrary. Wisely, you ask for my advice because of my experience, but to give accurate advice I must know the context, which variables affect a situation. No matter how much you try to describe it, it is not the same as experiencing it, the same reason we explore space in person, we do not just send a probe. Sirok could not argue with Sobok's logic. They continued to walk to the rhythm of old Vulcan. Sirok: The head doctor is Vulcan, Doctor Alieth, maybe she can do something for your hip. Sobok: It is already more mechanical than biological, but you still cannot fight time. But it is true that every doctor believes he has the ultimate solution to a particular problem, if she wants to see me I will not stop her. They arrived at the quarters' door, which opened when they detected Sobok's bio-signal, for which it had already been configured. Sobok stood at the door and watched. Sobok: I would almost have preferred a smaller quarters, this is almost three times the size of the Captain's cabin in an Excelsior class. Excessive for my needs. Sirok: Is a standard guest cabin in a Vesta class. And it is unoccupied, if necessary for some personality surely the Captain would appreciate your willingness to change to another quarter. Sobok nodded, agreeing with the young engineer and went into the room. The quarters were mainly illuminated by the light of the star bouncing off the surface of New Bajor. It was a large room, with a small living room, a work table and not visible from the entrance was the bedroom and bathroom. Sobok: I am tired, I have had many meetings in New Bajor. But during the trip we must resume some conversation. Sirok: I am learning to meditate better and better, it will not be necessary. Sobok: Your life depends on it. And you begin to be a respected Starfleet officer. Something can be done. In any case, we will not discuss it today. Let me rest. See you tomorrow, Sirok. Sirok: See you tomorrow, grandfather. ((End Scene for Sirok)) -- ==================== Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10