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I've been waiting eagerly for the final installment of this series of sims by the Thor's own @Alex Brodie, and he did not disappoint. He really knows how to engage the reader and I can really relate not only to his main character, Brodie, but to all the others he writes into the story. Well done! IC: ((USS Loki, Approaching Moon ‘Solace’)) Alex woke as the sensors chimed denoting his arrival at a safe distance – he hoped the situation on the ground would be better than what he was looking at on the monitor. He stretched from his seat and walked back to the replicator – keying in a few commands. Brodie: White coffee, Sumatran blend. It was strange. The horrific scenes in the slipstream had shown the very best in people, the political intrigues on New Bajor had shown the very worst. Everything seemed a little upside-down. The mug materialised in the opening and the smell filled the air. It had been a few day’s journey but now he was on this side of the wormhole it was simply a chance he couldn’t not take, although it might be the last chance he took. It had taken a while to get the appropriate permissions and authorisations but here he was...the console cut through the silence as he sipped his drink. LCARS: Warning. Target lock acquired. He hopped forwards and opened a comm. channel to the satellite that had targeted the Loki. His fingers skittered across the console as he input the authorization codes for the system. Only a handful of people had them and, as soon as they were transmitted, he erased them from the ship’s logs. Some things were just too risky to let out. The shuttle slipped between the gap in the orbital net and began its descent to the surface. He wondered what he would find there? He’d read the reports but a lot can change in nearly two decades…although in some ways a great many things would have stayed the same. The first thing that struck him, as the cloud cover broke, was the landing pad – so far, a good sign. He had rather expected a flattened piece to rough ground but it seemed there were elements of infrastructure. He didn’t think that there would have been many visitors to this area. The Loki touched down as gently as he could manage – having not landed a shuttle since the academy…and even then, only a handful of times. He opened the munitions locker and took one of the protective vests from inside and slipped it around his chest, pulling the straps tight. He didn’t like them but this was certainly a place where it was better to be safe than sorry. He pulled his field jacket over his shoulders and opened the door, lowering the exit ramp. It was a bright but cold day and the sun was low. He could just make out the figure walking towards him – unassuming, relaxed, like they had all the time in the world – which they did. Alex allowed himself some butterflies at the thought of what to say – it was a refreshing feeling - before deciding to keep it formal. He bowed slightly in greeting. Brodie: Eminence. ((Zone Of Mediation, Solace)) Alex awoke early as the sun blinkered through the window, dappled by the trees. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from a prison – but it wasn’t this. The door wasn’t locked and, after having dressed, he walked down the corridor towards a communal room that had been set aside. As he walked in some heads turned…but not many and, as he saw the faces, there were more expressions of confusion and…was that a little fear. He smiled, though not openly, from what he’d heard about the Ennis and Nol-Ennis but he hadn’t expected them to appear so…alike. It reminded him of an old song ‘One Tin Soldier’ the mountain and the valley people fighting over a supposed treasure – and all the pain that brought. He wondered if the two factions even recalled what they were even fighting over? He took some fruit and a bowl of what tasted like sugared oats and took a seat at the rear of the room – not deliberately watching but making sure he had everyone in his field of vision. This place was still a prison and if anything happened to him here then…well…he’d be stuck there. He wouldn’t mind so much but Garcia would certainly want to get the Loki back. It was a testament to the work that had been going on here that they were able to mix so freely and without incident, although he was led to believe that not everyone shared or appreciated the attempt at a more peaceful philosophy. That said, it was still standing nearly two decades later…but then what would they do…kill them? He wondered about this place, a planetary prison – a prison without bars; although it did have a sophisticated satellite defence system. He certainly appreciated the intention towards punishment but this was akin to torture. The violence was playing out, and perhaps – at first, there was a revelry on each side flying into an eternal battle with no sense of one’s own mortality. It seemed oddly Klingon – perhaps similar to Sto-vo-kor; he was unlikely to ever find out. There was a further fleeting thought, he wondered how Hannibal was getting on in his quest for the next battle? Back to the problem at hand, that was all well and good – teaching them that conflict was futile, a cycle doomed to repeat itself over and over until the end of time. And that was the issue, it never ended. How could there be any justice in this? There was no final punishment nor was there any chance at rehabilitation – the two peoples pushed aside as an inconvenience. Their people couldn’t reconcile them so they were shut away in this endless purgatory. Out of sight and out of mind…but it didn’t solve the problem. All that changed when she arrived though. It was odd that yet another death might be the start of something more progressive – they couldn’t leave, but perhaps they could grow. Perhaps they could find some sort of redemption…or maybe that was all wishful thinking? A bell tolled and the hall began to empty, their day had begun. He sat alone for a moment and then looked across the room to where Her Eminence now occupied the doorway, her eyes more alive than his – he hadn’t been able to find anything remotely resembling coffee. He stood in greeting. Sulan: Commander, good morning. Brodie: Good morning, Eminence Sulan: Please…there’s no need for formalities. Come, walk with me. It wasn’t a command, but strangely he didn’t feel anyone would ever refuse. It was simply a statement of how things were. The planet was still barren in the most part. The two walked along one of the paths that overlooked what had once been a battlefield but now was showing the literal green shoots of recovery as farmland – not that food was required but it gave structure and allowed cultivation of a less war-torn scenery. A group approached and nodded in greeting at his companion – standing little taller as they passed. Sulan: I’m not a leader, you know? Brodie: I think some of these people would beg to differ. Sulan: I brought a new perspective to this place…that was all…an alternative path. I can’t make anyone walk it, but I will assist any who wish to, or those who choose another. I’ve already seen enough violence to last a lifetime; even one as extended as mine. He'd thought about that already. He had read some of the reports but they were scant on detail – all he knew was they couldn’t leave. Brodie: Have you considered those who may wish to leave. You say it is no longer a prison but the satellite grid I came through would beg to differ. What of those who choose to end their lives by leaving - the Federation may be able to assist with that. The woman regarded him slowly, her expression slightly confused but still cheerful. Sulan: Would that not be a violation of the culture of this world though, Commander? She was right of course; the world had been designed to be a prison - by another culture. While they were aware of the galaxy out with their borders they were not, themselves, warp capable – at least not any more…the Prime Directive applied…at least at his level of authority. Brodie: I appreciate your point, Eminence, although I would say that does not sit well with my desire to provide care and ease suffering. Sulan: Who says anyone is suffering? Perhaps once, and perhaps some still, but when you have all the time then is anything truly a constant state? Brodie: I would not have been surprised if Sulan: Life is what you make of it, Commander…and when you have all the time in the world you can make of it whatever you want. Suddenly Brodie realised the point the woman was making. It wasn’t that time was never ending – it was the realisation that time simply did not apply. Time was still linear for the inhabitants of this world but without the restriction of being finite it didn’t matter – and that brought a freedom that he had a hard time comprehending. Brodie: So…you’re saying being bound here has made them free? Psychologically speaking I mean. Sulan: They always were, Commander, they just had to realise it. Now some have also realised they are not bound to keep fighting a futile war – they don’t have to be confined by their past. He thought on his own years…how true that was. Brodie: In that case I’d say they’re lucky to have you…not leading them on this path. She smiled. ((Landing Site, Solace, Gamma Quadrant)) All good things had to come to an end and, while this had been a short visit to this world it had felt longer than it was. He wondered if that was just a feeling he had or if it was another factor of the prison’s original design – which would have been especially cruel. Alex dropped his kit bag into the shuttle and returned to where his host was standing. Brodie: Thank you, Eminence, for your hospitality. This isn’t strictly allowed but I will ask, do you have any messages I can pass on to anyone. He had worried that thinking of a life past Sulan: No Commander, my son is gone, and I have no other blood family…looking back I wonder if I was already past my time. There was one thing I wanted to ask you, you mentioned there is a Bajoran colony on this side of the Celestial Temple? Brodie: That’s right, New Bajor. It would have been established not long after your arrival here. The Dominion destroyed it’s first incarnation, but it’s been re-established now. Sulan: So many now feel the touch of the Prophets in the Celestial Temple as I did? Brodie: Some, although perhaps not all appreciate the significance in the same way you did. Sulan: And the colony is well? Alex hesitated…he wondered if she’d been reading his draft mission report behind his back. He opted for something that was true…from a certain point of view. Brodie: It is – Governor Velos is an excellent administrator who cares deeply for her people. You’d be very proud. She reached up slightly and cupped his ear - checking his Pah. He allowed it, he was fairly sure after his time here he wasn’t in any danger in her company. Sulan: Your Pah is strong but…::unsure::…there is a darkness there, Commander… She was correct of course…there were more than a few shadows lurking in his past. Like those here, however, he’d been able to change his destiny – to some extent. Brodie: They’re a defence mechanism – of sorts. One must always guard against the darker side of one’s self, and that means you must acknowledge your own. Sulan: Just take caution not to become it…I have seen the damage a corrupted Pah can bring first-hand. Alex thought of Samara and her past, there were true horrors in the occupation – and beyond. Though he’d seen plenty of his own, both professionally and personally, he still heeded the caution in her words. Brodie: I believe there’s more good than bad in the universe, Eminence, besides the light shines brighter in the darkness. The sound of the comm sounding alerted him that the start-up routine on the shuttle was complete. It was time to go. Brodie: Farewell eminence, I would say stay safe but I’m not sure that applies here. ::He bowed slightly:: Prophets be with you and the blessings of Bajor be with you. Sulan: And also with you, Commander. He returned to the shuttle and began his accent…it all felt like some surreal dream until he encountered the perimeter in the low orbit. Keying in a few strokes, he set a course for the rendezvous with the Thor. FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

OOC: I've really enjoyed exploring the line between the serious side of Teller's character against his more jokey nature, and Alieth has been an absolute pleasure to write with. It's also allowed me to revisit some of Teller's early antics and the impact other officers have had on him. Been a real pleasure - thanks @Alieth! =========================================== ((XO's office, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Alieth: Sir... I am truly sorry for what happened. And I will strive not to disgrace this uniform again... nor the ideas and people it represents. Commander teller nodded gravely,the brief smile that had brightened up his features, gone. Teller: See that you don't, Lieutenant. I'm a firm believer in second chances. Not third chances. Understood? Geoff's voice was sharp and clear. There was no hostility or malice in it, but the note of warning was obvious. The young Vulcan didn't need any repetition of the query and answered promptly. Alieth: Yes, sir, I do. Then, Teller stood, and the awareness of danger which even the firmest instruction in the Logic had failed to eradicate suddenly became activated in her mind. She frowned faintly, dreading what would come next. Teller: Oh there's one other thing - mentioned in the report. The tattoo. Lets see it. The Vulcan's face became suddenly pale and then shifted to a bright green Alieth: Sir... ::the human remained unruffled:: ...Mister Teller… ::She swallowed before appealing to her last resort::Geoffrey John, I… I doubt that will be necessary. Her attempt failed disastrously. Teller: "Starfleet uniform code regulation 231, Paragraph J, Subsection 3 - Should any active duty personnel receive cosmetic body modifications without first seeking authorization from their commanding officer, said personnel must submit to a command inspection of same prior to returning to duty to verify it poses no impediment or hazard to the performance of said duties." If you prefer, I could ask Fleet Captain Kells to come by and take care of it. After she had ensnared the Captain in a trap during their last mission the last thing she needed to make a 'perfect' impression was him discovering... THAT. Alieth: No-no sir, that will not be necessary. She pouted before the diabolical usage of regulation against her. Despite this, she took off her jacket and pulled back the sleeve of her shirt until her left shoulder blade became visible. As the commander's eyes settled on the sharp Klingon letters, he laughed, and she turned even greener. Teller: No impediment or hazard here, I think. If anything, it might serve as a good warning label. As you were, Lieutenant. She opened her mouth. She closed it. She opened it again, her face even greener as before, and finally decided that silence was a valid retort to that outrageous comment, as she threw the uniform jacket over her shoulders once more. As Alieth made a hasty retreat for the office door, Geoff rolled up the left sleeve of his uniform jacket. , The movement halted her flight and she turned around slightly just to see how Geoff pulled his sleeve all the way up and exposed his left bicep. Teller: We all make mistakes, Lieutenant. For example, this tattoo? The Vulcan's eyes locked on .... THAT. For an instant they wandered up to the face of the First Officer, disbelief percolating through the cracks in her broken dignity, but they hopelessly returned to focus on the voluptuous depiction of a dark-skinned woman on top of a Veritas Class in the First Officer's ashy arm. Alieth: Sir?!?!?!?!? How?!?!?! WHEN?!?!?!?! Why I did not know .... !?!?! ::The questions piled up on the tip of Alieth's tongue until she was finally able to summarize them into one:: WHY?! Teller: Well, in the original version, Captain Rahman wasn't...::Geoff coughed, momentarily embarrassed::...in uniform. This lead to some...serious professional awkwardness. If Lt. Jg. Teller can learn from that, you can learn from this. ::Geoff wiggled his bicep and the stylized starship and it's equally stylized Captain seemed to ride an invisible wave.:: The Vulcan's eyes remained firmly anchored to the rolling tattoo for two endless minutes before she regained her ability to speak. Alieth: Yes sir, I will sir. Geoff rolled his sleeve back down, which broke the spell that had petrified the Vulcan doctor until that moment. While Teller headed back behind his desk, she had a few seconds to pull herself together. Teller: That'll be all, Lieutenant. Alieth: Yes, sir. :: She hesitated for a moment and finally (and with the tip of her ears still glowing green) she added:: Thank you, sir. As the doors to his office slid closed Geoff shook his head and chuckled, rubbing his bicep wistfully. Captain Rahman had been right to make him keep it, as she had been about so many other things. Geoff smiled ruefully. oO Of course. Skipper's always right. Oo As soon as she uttered those words, she left the room as fast as she could, ignoring the surprised glances of other crew members when she ran up against them. On her way back to her quarters the only thing she could see in her mind eye was the disproportionately gifted figure of Captain Rahman on her First Officer's bicep. Her mind kept revolving around the question if whether she had previously had other incorrect attributes and her spot pattern had gone all the way down or... That day, and many that followed, every time Alieth tried to meditate or sleep, all he could see was Geoff's white biceps and the little Kriosian that rode it. Each time, she opened her eyes with her ears irremediably dyed green. End of the Scene OOC: boQDu' -> She-devil in klingon ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator Trainee =================================

Joke about Teller all you want, he really is an excellent XO. This conversation really resonated with me. ((XO's office, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Teller: And how do you see that sequence of events playing out if you get stabbed to death in a bar fight? Alieth: Inherently, you cannot be stabbed to death in a fistfight. Geoff's eyes narrowed slightly and his tone cooled a fraction. Teller: Hypothetically, Lieutenant. Say one of your playmates brought a knife along. Or both. You know how Klingons like their sharp objects. Geoff watched closely as she mulled it over, the small noises in the room amplified by the tension in the air. Alieth: In that case... poorly. For an instant, Teller heard the faintly musical laughter of his former CO. Geoff was entirely certain that Captain Rahman would've deeply enjoyed being a fly on the wall for this conversation. Teller: Lieutenant...the uniform that you're wearing...that we're all wearing. It means more than just a job or a career. It's a symbol, with a pedigree that goes back centuries, and it stands for values like compassion and tolerance. It stands for patience, and for empathy. In all four quadrants of this galaxy, these colors are synonymous with peaceful collaboration. And that's the uniform you were wearing while brawling in public. ::Geoff shook his head:: Is that how you want to demonstrate your respect for the uniform? Geoff leveled his gaze, from which Alieth quickly looked away. He took no pleasure in raking her over the coals, but this was an important part of his duties as sure as anything he'd done since coming aboard. Alieth shifted uncomfortably before replying. Alieth: I am uncertain about that, sir. Geoff scowled deeply. Teller: Well you had better get certain, Lieutenant, and soon, or you'll find your career options in Starfleet exceptionally limited. Alieth: It is not the first time that I have not lived up to expectations, neither in my time in Starfleet nor... outside it. Although I strive to overcome this circumstance, I may simply not be able to achieve the perfection that has been expected of me. What is, is. And maybe my ambition has blinded me from this very fact. :: She paused briefly:: As my mother often insists, I am inherently inadequate. Geoff blinked, caught flat by the unexpected insight into Alieth's mind. Even Sern, who had agreed to stay out of the matter, registered a deep shock at Alieth's words. Teller's posture finally relaxed and he slumped back in his chair as his anger mostly evaporated. Teller: Alieth...You couldn't be more wrong. This isn't about expectations, and it most certainly isn't about perfection. Long time ago, a very smart woman told me we all make mistakes. The trick was to learn from them. She felt I was someone who could. ::Geoff's attention had wandered as he reminisced but his eyes turned back towards Alieth, stern but sympathetic.:: And I feel the same way about you. Alieth: Response Teller: Now, your mistake wasn't getting into a drunken fistfight. That was A mistake, certainly, but it wasn't The Mistake. Any theories on what your mistake actually was? Geoff let the question hang in the air, allowing time for Alieth to ruminate. Alieth: Response Teller: Your mistake was listening to your mother and not to yourself. Geoff gave that a moment to settle before going on. Teller: Not a single being aboard this ship is perfect, Alieth, and I may as well be the President of that club. That doesn't make any of them inadequate any more than it makes you inadequate. Alieth: Response Teller: There's a saying some of our Marine colleagues like, and I'll admit it caught my ear - I think you could learn something from it. 'Perfect is the enemy of good.' It's a way of saying that chasing perfection can blind you to other options, other ways of succeeding. I think you're trapped in that thinking right now, Lieutenant...maybe you have been for a long time. That to be worthwhile at all, you have to be perfect. That's your mistake, Alieth. Alieth: Response Tags/TBC =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0

@Wes Greaves ALMOST makes me want to become a marine. Almost. 😉 I love seeing the slice of marine life in Starfleet! ((Marine Quarterdeck, Deck 9, USS Thor)) A smile crept across Wes’s face as he surveyed the abnormally cramped quarterdeck. From the doorway of his office, he had a perfect vantage point of the detachment assembling into the room. Every single Marine had been given their assignments, and non-commissioned officers barked commands while their staff non-commissioned officers watched in satisfaction. Even the pilots and mechanics were present. Looking to his left, the detachment’s Sergeant Major gave Wes a nod, which he returned. The action triggered more shouts and the nearly 80 assembled Marines began to disperse into the halls to make their way toward the turbolifts. All of the turbolifts. ((Main Corridor, Deck 3, USS Thor)) Simultaneously, every lift on the deck opened and unleashed a torrent of Marines in matching dark green running gear. With a smooth and practiced choreography 80 men and woman of various races sprinted into three columns, nearly 30 ranks long, at the aft end of the deck. At their head stood their detachment commander. Greaves: DETACHMENT, DOUBLE TIME. 80+ Voices: MARINE CORPS! At the same instant, 80 feet slammed into the deck as the Marines began to jog together. Science officers were forced to leap and dive out of the way in some cases as the train ran past. The sound of feet hitting the deck made for a rhythmic beat and after a few moments of running, a deep voice began calling cadence. Greaves: Loooooooooow, riiiiight, laaaayoooooo. 80+ Voices: Loooooooooow, riiiiight, laaaayoooooo In unison, the detachment sang out a parroted reply. Their voices shook the doors along the corridor. Many offices and work stations opened with a hiss, heads popping out of doors to see what was going on. Greaves: Mama told Johnny not to go downtown! After each sing-song cadence call, the detachment would return the same reply in their chorus of voices, punctuated by the beat of falling footfalls. Greaves: Marine Corps recruiter was hangin’ around! Greaves: Johnny went downtown anyway! Greaves: To see what the recruiter had to say! Greaves: Recruiter asked Johnny what he wanted to be! Greaves: Johnny said I really wanna be a Marine! Greaves: Johnny caught a trip to Duronis 2! Greaves: There he fought some people called the Romulans! Greaves: Killed a hundred men with his phaser and blade! Greaves: God only knows how many lives he saved! Greavess: Looooooooooo right laaaayyyyyoooooooooo! Greaves: Johnny was bold, and he was brave! Greaves: Johnny jumped on a photon grenade! Greaves: Saved the lives of the men he led! Greaves: But poor old johnny, he was dead! Greaves: Loooooooooow, riiiiight, laaaayoooooo. The snaking mass of bodies had run the entire length of the deck and halfway back down by the end of the cadence, and with a smile Wes let out a new command. Greaves: DETACHMENT, FALL OUT! 80+ Voices: OOOORAH! 80 men and women broke off in various directions, sprinting toward the turbolifts again, Wes in hot pursuit with smile still plastered on his face. ((Main Corridor, Deck 4, USS Thor)) With an impressive choreography the Marines stormed the next deck and reformed into the running formation. Their sing-song voices again resounding through the halls to the beat of their running footfalls. Greaves: Sec’rity, Sec’rity, I'm in doubt! Greaves: Why your belly’s sticking out! Greaves: Is it beer or is it wine! Greaves: Or is it the lack of PT time! Greaves: Singing lo right lay-o! Greaves: Lefty right lay-o! Greaves: Lo right lay-o! Greaves: Left in double time! Greaves: DETACHMENT, FALL OUT! 80+ Voices: OOOORAH! Once again, the mass of bodies broke off in every direction, some Marines now opening laughing as they ran to move on to the next deck. ((Marine Quarterdeck, Deck 9, USS Thor)) Two hours and 26 kilometers later, the Marine detachment completed their run, having shouted down every major corridor in the ship, and heckled every department aboard. Back at the quarterdeck, the Marines laughed, joked, and were otherwise in high spirits, despite the demanding workout. They had made a friendly jab toward the other departments, and it had brought the detachment closer together themselves. They were finally beginning to come out of the funk of the last several months and come together as a team. Wes smiled to himself once again before disappearing into his office. ========================= First Lieutenant Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 =========================

This has been a fun scene to write and is a nice departure from the action/adventure and dark drama that's been looming over the Thor for the last couple of missions. Just a crew enjoying shore leave together. Amanda adds some really excellent narration to the already excellent writing by everyone else in the scene. Keep it up. I'm having fun with this one!

As our community has evolved so to have the relationships between players across ships, and I've been delighted to watch the friendship evolve between these two writers both on the page and off. Oh, and speaking from my perspective aboard the Thor - Alieth's new bodyart is 100% accurate. Great work! And now there's going to be so much groundskeeping.

And finally the last part of this little arch. It was wonderful to be able to read it and see the change unfolding little by little in front of all of us. I just want to mention that there may not be any tattoo parlors, but of course DS224 has tattoo artist Good job guys! @Addison MacKenzie @Genkos Adea @Geoffrey Teller

There are no two without a three and as such this JP SHOULD be here. Mainly because of this: This is it, more than enough Jokes aside, as I always say, it is wonderful to witness the evolution of the characters, how an arch is built in front of our eyes and how it renders them real and credible, even more so if they leave us with little bits of details from previous adventures, from different times, other vessels, which give us a sense of a solid and deep story, of a continuity and inner lore that leaves us wanting to know more and wondering how many sickbays have lost their ceiling. Furthermore, these three goofballs have a knack for humour and at the same time the ability to narrate technically in an enviable fashion, in a style that flows naturally and is a delight to read. Great work, as usual. I have the last part still hot in my inbox and I'm CRAVING to read it. Kudos again for @Addison MacKenzie @Genkos Adea & @Geoffrey Teller

@Addison MacKenzie @Geoffrey Teller @Genkos Adea you know, the lack of peg legs is dissapoing! Jokes aside, i've had this sim on hold till i've had some quiet minutes to appreciate It as It deserved, and oh boy it's a ride. This gang KNOWS how to write comedy and the flow between the characters is just perfect! Eager to catch up the last part!

Do you know the best thing about pranking another writer's character? Having him follow it. That he incorporates it into his character's day-to-day life, even in a serious circumstance, and that he is capable of putting a light sim into the general narrative of the ship with elegance and humour. If on top of that the poor victim is our ill-treated captain... what more can I ask for? I think the gamma quadrant still has reserves of G1TT3RB0MB, skipper. I'm just warning you @Tony, aka Kells

((‘The Junction’, deck 223, Deep Space 224. The Borderlands)) The petite Vulcan doctor breathed lightly on the surface of her drink before she took a tentative sip. The thick, hot drink burst into a sugary explosion in her mouth, and then descended down her throat, warming her up like the sun of her home planet. Of course, the drink was not only comforting, but had the quality of altering the Vulcan biochemistry, which suited her after the LONG road she had needed to travel to reach the Borderlands’... border. Arguably, in the canteens at the top decks, primarily staffed by Starfleet personnel and Federation civilians, her drinking choices would have raised a few eyebrows. But down there, in a secluded corner of the lower decks, the Klingon waiter attending to the tables didn't bat an eyelid. And much less the patrons, an amalgam of unruly civilians who were largely minding their own business. Or they just slept it off in a corner, too plastered to care about anything. Alieth tucked into the dark hood that obscured her features and settled down for a second shot when a whistle distracted her. The smudged and rusty pub door swung open, and revealed an old familiar face that she had not seen for a long time. Alieth: Meimei! Sirin: Alieth ::smirking slightly:: I see you have found yet another unique place for us to meet. Alieth: I know you are fond of interesting places, therefore I have just provided you the most fascinating place that I have found. The statement was delivered in a flat, pragmatic tone, still there was a mischievous gleam in the young Vulcan's eyes and the tiniest sketch of a smile danced for an instant on her lips. Meidra nodded to the waiter, muttering her drink order in Klingon. If he was surprised, he said nothing, only growling in response before going to get her beverage. She sat across the table from her cousin, and gave the usual Vulcan greeting, and received the usual response. Sirin: It has been too long, krei. Tell me, how is life on the Thor? Are you keeping everyone logical? Alieth: Indeed just too long. And about the Thor’s crew... ::Shaking her hand gently:: It is an unachievable endeavour, most of them are just a hopeless case. Amusement flared in the counselor’s eyes as she well understood her cousin’s wry humor. She took a long drink from her flask, pondering if she could convince the waiter to refill it for her before she and her favorite krei went exploring. She put in back into a pocket and patiently waited for her actual drink to arrive. Meanwhile, the doctor took a brief sip of her drink before she answered, her eyebrows knitted over her eyes. Alieth: Otherwise things on the Thor have been reasonably calm. We took part in a coup d'état, prevented an ecological disaster and only the Captain was about to lose his life because of a hitman. Compared with our previous missions, the ship has no extra holes and, aside from Fleet Captain Kells, most of the crew is in good condition. A truly uneventful mission for Starfleet. A few months ago her answer would have been vastly different, as a connoisseur of quiet and routine as she was. Nevertheless, routine seemed to have taken on unexpected forms since she had graduated from the Academy. And she had embraced it. It was a disturbing realization. Alieth: So how was everything at the Resolution? We spoke briefly at your previous shoreleave, yet I have heard hardly anything from you since then. Meidra: This shore leave has been different from the last. I did go to a holodeck, but this time it was not to fight my grandfather’s image. I was invited to participate in a ::searching for right words:: a mystery solving game. It was entertaining. She told her cousin how Ensign Yalu had created a dead body for her amusement, and the two shared a grin. The waiter flung down her drink with an appropriate insult which Meidra matched as she slammed her fist on the table. After a moment, both she and the waiter laughed, and he gave Meidra a swift salute before leaving to serve other patrons. Alieth: That is a novelty, were you able to perform an autopsy on the victim's body? ::Alieth became silent for a short while before she answered herself. :: You know, just do not tell me and send me the program, I am sure Mister Greaves will appreciate it too. Alieth: What about your last mission? According to what I heard you were in a diplomatically delicate situation. Sirin: We were asked to intervene between a peace loving society and the Klingons. Thankfully, no blood was spilled. To be honest, I do not believe the Klingons assigned to the mission truly wanted to be there. It was most confusing in a way. ::smiles:: although our First Officer certainly put them in their place. The tiny Vulcan took another quick sip of her cocoa and leaned forward, resting elbows on her knees. The short motion prompted a maverick lock of hair slipped out of her tight ponytail, which Alieth wasted no time placing it back behind one of her pointy ears. Sirin: I have a slight appreciation for Klingons after seeing them again on our latest mission. They have a fascinating way of twisting logic to serve their agenda. ::Looks around:: I had thought you would have brought your ….what are you calling him again? Your BFF? The one trapped in a human male? The Vulcan woman almost choked on her drink as a green shade rose to her cheeks and dyed the tips of her ears. Alieth: As much as I would have appreciated the chance to introduce you to my closest friend Sern, making so bringing here that troublemaker human in whom he currently resides would have been a highly... improper situation to say the least. :: An image of her ginger superior officer flashed into her mind and Alieth hastened to take another swig to hide the expressions that crept up her face. Alieth: No, that would be actually a TERRIBLE idea. What about you? Last time we talked I thought you said you were interested in establishing a close relationship with someone, a human male? How they call it… ‘Dating him’ The small counselor rolled her eyes. Dating, for lack of a better word, was not something Meidra did. She’d had a few intense encounters before joining StarFleet, but they weren’t the type of men (or women) she’d bring to a family dinner. Aeson was a distraction from admitting that she felt something for another officer. She would never admit who it was, maybe not even to herself. She would admit to a certain loneliness at times. But she didn’t need to say it out loud. Alieth’s expression told her that much. Sirin: I’m not sure what I have to offer anyone. Hey, ni’hin person, um...jabwl’, waiter person. Another bloodwine. Then a Vulcan brandy chaser. Alieth: Another cocoa for me, black, without sugar, 50ºC. Once the burly Klingon had taken their orders (mumbling something about Vulcans who thought they knew his job better than he did), Alieth looked back to her relative's eyes. Her hieratic expression had somehow softened and her eyes gazed warmly at Meidra. Alieth: You know you have a lot to share with a bondmate Meidra, even if you try hard to hide it. You carry the best traits of our family after all. Alieth's gaze glistened with mischief a split second before she added. Alieth: This is quite an achievement for an overly emotional hybrid like yourself, if you ask me. Sirin: Yes, you make it sound logical. ::sighing:: I have not eaten since morning meal. Chasing ghosts works up an appetite. Even if they are holograms. ::looks at Alieth:: after dinner we should walk around a bit and see what this station has to offer. It’s rare to see you, we should strive to create pleasant memories. Meidra knew her tolerance for alcohol was far more than most of the clientele here. But she was a bit hungry. The Klingon waiter came back to get their food order, and place their next round of drinks on the table. Alieth: ::With a slightly tipsy voice:: All right, let's toast and have an end meal later and let find what this station has to offer us. Sirin: An appropriate plan of action, krei The minute Vulcan raised her mug, such that a few drops of thick, black liquid fell on the table. She remained in that position for a moment, while her brain struggled to find something appropriate to say Alieth: For the old friendships and those that we are building, for those we met and those we will eventually meet. And that wherever our paths take us, we will always find refuge from the sandstorms in each other. [[TBC]] OOC: krei → (vulcan) female relative descended from siblings of parents or earlier line of descent ni’hin → (Vulcan) bar, pub jabwl’ →(Vulcan) waiter ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator Trainee ================================= & Ensign Meidra Sirin Counseling Officer USS Resolution R239707MS0

I have said it many times: it is wonderful to witness how characters who have had a personal development for a long time interact with each other. Plus, the fact that they have the sass and charm that @Addison MacKenzieMackenzie and @Geoffrey Teller have together adds a lot to the mix. And if they also include an (unknown to me until now IC) incredible talented @Genkos Adea in the mix they create an explosive and hilarious combo. Furthermore, I have ALWAYS said that I love writers who dare to deal with the consequences of their characters' actions in missions and drag them through time to tell us about their consequences and how they deal with it, which is a good example in this case, not only with Genkos' leg, but how you pull strings from various missions and characters along at least 4 different ships. DELICIOUS. A spectacular work, guys, and very funny to read. Just a small correction, BOSS: it's not lover is BFF! 😝

((Deck 5, Hammer’s Bowling Alley, USS Thor - 0426, The night before the promotion)) Neither Wil, or his Captain, had achieved their primary objective yet. He held the bowling ball in front of his mouth, thinking about his technique. He thought about which of the guiding triangles he should aim for, as he sang quietly along with the audio that was filling the bowling alley. Ukinix/Audio: The man in-me will-do… near-ly a-ny task… With the grace of an uncoordinated horse, Wil took a few steps towards the white line. As he approached, he swung the bowling ball back behind him, before flinging it forward and releasing it from his fingers. After the sound of a large “thud” of the ball hitting the polished wooden floor, the ground rumbled as the ball travelled along towards the head pin. Wil made a fist in anticipated victory, before the pins crashed together, knocking almost all of them over - except for the furthermost outside two pins on the very back row. Computer: You have bowled a 7-10 split. Your score is 8 points. Ukinix: ::Single clap of hands:: Dammit! So close. Rahman: Tsk, tsk… forget the bridge simulator, you need to spend more time at the lanes. Wil looked up at Teller, who was suspended from the ceiling of the bowling alley by a bungee cord that was attached to a device with slowly flashing red lights. The device was wirelessly hooked into the bowling alley’s scoring system. Below the dangling suspended Teller was a large tub of a cream and gelatine mixture. And his dress uniform lay crumpled up in a pile next to the tub. Wil looked up at the newly minted Commander, and gave him a wink. Ukinix: Don’t worry, mate. ::Gesturing to Roshanara:: One of us will get that strike, we’ll get you down. Teller: ¡ʇuɐǝɯ noʎ ʇɥƃnoɥʇ I ʇɐɥʍ ┴ON sᴉ sᴉɥʇ uʍop ǝpᴉsdn unɟ ǝɯos ǝʌɐɥ oʇ ʇuɐʍ noʎ op pᴉɐs noʎ ǝɹǝɥʍ ɹɐǝʍs I lᴉM Roshanara looked up at the suspended and newly-minted Commander. Rahman: Do you mind? I’m trying to bowl here… Teller: ¡uᴉɐɹq ʎɯ oʇ ƃuᴉɥsnɹ poolq ǝɥʇ llɐ ɥʇᴉʍ ʇɐɥʍ noʎ ʇɔɐɹʇsᴉp oʇ uɐǝɯ ʇ,upᴉp 'ɹǝddᴉʞS ʎɹɹos ɯ,I ɥO His first CO gave him an approving smile before she took a few steps and launched the ball towards the pins. With a satisfying crunch, she managed to hit seven of them. Not enough to dunk him completely, but enough to trigger the device to give him a little shake as it dipped him closer to the tub. The line shuddered, dropping him a few CM’s closer to the frothy tub. He didn’t know how they’d convinced Darren Hammer, owner & operator of the lanes, to setup what looked like a large kiddie pool full of jello & shaving cream, but Geoff suspected bribery. He also suspected that somewhere, Taz Shandres was filming this, ready to make another viral hit on Fednet. Teller: ¿uoᴉʇᴉpɐɹʇ ʇǝǝlɟɹɐʇS ɐ sᴉɥʇ sᴉ ʎlʇɔɐxǝ ʍoH Wil furrowed his brow momentarily. For a split second, he could have sworn that with his friend suspended like that, it sounded like he had Wil’s accent. He shrugged his shoulders and shook it off as an odd, stray thought. Ukinix: Mate, stop whinging. All the greatest officers have been through the same thing. They did it to Spock when he became an ambassador. ::Under his breath:: Probably. ::To Roshanara:: Your bowl, Captain. The Kriosian nodded and held the ball up to her chin as she studied the lane like a starship tactician. The pins waited at the end as if they were a line of Tholian webspinners. Rahman: This one’s from Rosie. Teller: ˙˙˙˙ʇsnɾ plnoɔ ǝʍ ʞoo˥ The ball struck home with thunderous force and the line went slack. Geoff had a strange moment of weightlessness during which he considered many of the choices he’d made to lead him to this point in his life. His self-reflection was interrupted by his rapid descent and nearly explosive entry into the pool, which flung foam and jello like a geyser in every direction. Geoff struggled through the bizarre, coconut smelling soup, trying to pull himself through it. All he could hear was the splorp of jello moving and peels of laughter. When he finally was able to take his feet, Geoff had less than a second to realize both the Skipper and Wil were pointing strange sparklie tubes at him. With a loud pop, both spat an enormity of brightly colored confetti at him. He was now shirtless, pantless, and effectively glazed and decorated. Teller: I’m a damn cup-cake. Teller: oO They’re going to pay for this. Somehow. They’re going to pay. Oo Wil couldn’t stop laughing. He crouched down, before laying on the ground, on his side, holding his stomach. There was a mischievous snicker that he couldn’t stop. He looked back at glittery, gloopy Teller, and laughed even harder as he rolled onto his back. Rahman: Quit horsing around and get over here. Eventually, Wil got to his feet as his laughter subsided. On the nearby table were three essential items - a towel, a bathrobe, and a glass of White Russian. He picked them up, and handed the towel and glass to Commander Teller. Ukinix: There y’are, Geoffrey. Geoff took both items with deep suspicion, but with few other options he tried to clean himself up while taking a tentative sniff of the drink. Teller: The hell is this? Smells like a milkshake! Wil picked up his own half finished White Russian, and raised his glass in Teller’s direction. Ukinix: ::Holding up glass:: To Commander Teller. Geoff grinned and nodded his head solemnly before throwing the newly soaked towel back at Wil, catching him full in the face with a wet twok. Teller: Cheers, mate! Roshanara held onto the oversized beige bathrobe with both hands held out, taking care not to look too far down while she protected Teller’s modesty in front of any Prophets watching from the nearby Celestial Temple. Rahman: All right, let’s make sure you don’t catch a cold. Geoff glugged down the desert like drink, but caught the lingering bite of a sweet liquor. He suspected he’d be upside down again, without being tied to the ceiling, quite soon. The bathrobe was enormous and nearly went down to the floor, flapping past his wrists and into his tumbler. Somehow, a floppy belt really tied the whole ensemble together. Teller: Is this some kind of religious ceremony I’ve never heard of? Oooh, I know, can I be one of those Romulan lady sword monks?! The drink was already kicking in. Wil took a quick sip of his drink while eying Geoffrey in his ensemble. Ukinix: You look like a pimp. The captain went over to grab her own mug of coffee. It was rather early in the morning after all. She took a seat on one of the comfortable couches. Rahman: So… Mr. Teller. I suppose this marks a new chapter. You’re certainly no longer a young, wide-eyed ensign. Geoff smiled and accepted the compliment as graciously as he could manage while tripping over the edge of an oversized bathrobe. Teller: ::Geoff smiled sheepishly:: Thanks Skipper, that was...almost kind of you to say. Rahman: You’re fortunate you’re so irritatingly ingratiating. It’s the only factor I’ve identified that’s kept you from getting shot at more often. Geoff smirked and bowed with an elaborate flourish. Teller: All part of the service, Skipper. Ukinix: Captain, just give the man a hug, he deserves it. Roshanara looked back at a beaming Teller for a moment and then shook her head. Rahman: “Nah, I’m good.” Wil smirked and blinked a little at his Captain’s impersonation of him, before he turned to his friend. Ukinix: ::To Teller:: I’ll head to the bar and get us another round. He turned and made his way over to the long, luxurious wooden bar that was positioned away from the bowling lanes. Geoff nodded in thanks and produced the empty tumbler from under a frayed sleeve. Why the bathrobe already looked ratty and worn was beyond Teller, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Teller: It’s this brand of supportive abuse that got me where I am today - so in a way, Skipper, all of ::Geoff gestured to his fairly ridiculous self:: this...is on you. After her chief engineer went off to raid the alley’s stores of alcohol, Roshanara looked over at Teller sitting in the much-too-large armchair across from her. Rahman: You look adorable. Like that first time you sat in my command chair. Geoff’s eyebrows went up - it was a moment he remembered well. Teller: I was terrified, you know? Figured the seat was booby trapped or something. ::Geoff found his smile coming more naturally.:: I’m still not 100% sure it isn’t. She just smiled back coyly before she got up and took a seat next to him in the other chair, pulling her feet up and folding her legs under her as she sat. Rahman: So… how are you? Geoff mimmed strumming a guitar. Teller: Well, like you said Skipper - it’s been a long road. ::Geoff smirked:: But it’s been worth it. Rahman: Yes, yes… but I’m not speaking as a Starfleet captain to a commander in terms of the job you’ve done. I mean how are *you* doing? Geoff leaned back, considering the scope of the unexpectedly personal question. He noticed his dressed uniform, crumpled on the floor nearby, and the pips near the collar. Each represented missions, and people, and time spent or adventures had. He’d met friends, formed bonds, and grown as a person with each little bronze circle pinned to that jacket. Their significance had never seemed greater to him. Teller: Honestly...I guess I don’t think about it much - but I’m good. Really. The last year hasn’t been easy, but watching this crew come together has been..enriching. It was something I didn’t expect...and I didn’t expect to like it. I feel...older, somehow. And not just because my shoulder makes that crunching noise. She nodded as she cradled her coffee mug. Rahman: You’re someone others look up to now. Someone who models the kind of officer they hope to be. And someday, you’ll be someone else’s “Skipper.” Geoff tried to imagine that. Not the brash fantasies of the Academy, but a real time where a Captains chair was his and his alone. It seemed...more plausible now, a natural extension of the work he’d done. It wasn’t about personal glory, it was an awesome responsibility. It wasn’t about self-aggrandizement, but about leading others and letting their potential flourish. It was so much bigger than he’d ever imagined as an Ensign. Teller: I got lucky - I learned from the best, and ::Geoff nodded towards the bar:: I worked with the best. Shoulders of Giants. That should be the title of my autobiography. So much better than my other idea. Geoff got the least bit embarrassed. Teller: “Telling the Teller Tales By Teller.” Yeah, I know, it’s bad. She gestured to Wil in the distance as they both watched him rummage through the bar, still on the hunt for the evening’s next libation. Rahman: Still. It can be a lonely place at the top. And the friendships you made before you got there… are worth more than their volume in latinum. Roshanara herself had noted the change in her relationship to her shipmates when she’d moved up from chief engineer to XO. Being in a position of authority had required maintaining a certain distance, but that distance was created on both ends, from her and her colleagues--the latter’s effort being unexpectedly difficult to adjust to at times. Rahman: Have you gotten close to any of your new crew outside of a professional context? ::She grinned as she teased him slightly.:: Maybe someone special even? Geoff squinted and for a brief moment, heard his mother's laughter. Teller: What can I say - never found the time? Never found the right one? ::Geoff briefly reminisced about what had, and could have, been.:: Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment? The question was as much to himself as to his friend. It was true he’d kept to himself since leaving the Veritas, letting his responsibilities and his position isolate him. It had become almost habitual, and it allowed him to narrow his focus. Perhaps that was something else he had to...reexamine. Rahman: All right, then what about just friends? Teller: Friends - yes. Colleagues I respect and admire, absolutely. But there’s nobody else I trust like I trust you, or Wil, or Addison. Veritas feels like the home I grew up in - the people there took me in when I needed them, and let me become part of their lives. It was...something I didn’t know I needed. They’ll always be family to me. Roshanara nodded and then glanced down a little at his left arm, the stylized tattoo version of herself hidden underneath. What was once a drunken souvenir had become a badge of pride, representing Teller’s admiration for his first ship and captain. Rahman: I know I once told you that no matter where you go, Veritas will always be with you. Teller: Yep. I keep her right over here ::Geoff thumbed towards his heart:: next to the Thor. Rahman: But I think you should know it only gets harder to form those bonds from here on up… She struggled with the exact words she was looking for as he looked back at her. Rahman: The command decisions you’re making these days... affecting not just a team or a department but the entire crew... Geoff nodded gravely. He’d felt that distance forming more than once and had fought to dispel it. He leaned forward, his drink forgotten for a moment, his attention focused. Teller: It keeps me up some nights. I’ll take any advice you’ve got to offer. She nodded sympathetically. Rahman: One strategy is to keep your distance. It can make those decisions clearer for you about what needs to be done for the mission. But it can also leave you feeling hollow. She paused before she let out a sigh. Rahman: I’ve asked a lot of you over this past year. And you’ve done it. For Duronis II, Starfleet, and the Federation. But promise me one thing? Teller: I’ve never lied to you - not going to start now. You’ve got my word. Rahman: Don’t let this job consume you. A life in Starfleet isn’t just about getting the mission done. You need that social support, even more so as you move up the ranks. Make your time in the service about the *people* instead of the missions. The friendships you’ll leave with will make far greater company than the service ribbons. Geoff felt the wisdom in the advice deeply. His hardest days in Starfleet had been those when he was most alone, and the new bonds he’d forged in the last year had as much to do with his success as any that came before. Teller: Honestly, the Veritas is the family I was born into. The Thor is the family I got to build. I’m proud of both, and I know these people have my back as much as I have theirs. You taught me how to make a ship a home, Skipper. Promise me you won’t forget it. She nodded and raised her mug, tapping his glass. Both rang, and their shared their drink in brief companionable silence. ((“Quark’s Bar”, Deep Space Nine - three hours later)) Wil leaned over to the Ferengi that was behind the bar - although from his point of view, after the large quantity of drinks that he and Geoffrey had consumed, it looked like there were two of them. Ukinix: ::Raising empty glass:: Mate. It’s a bit of a dry argument here. ::Burp:: How about another drink? The Ferengi behind the bar gave the Human a fake cordial smile. To’n: You’re lucky it’s happy hour or you’ll be paying off your bar tab as a dabo girl. Geoff wobbled a bit, the conversation only half heard over the din in the bar and the din in his head. Teller: I did it Wil, I got that big new job….DABO! With a smirk, Wil thought of something that he knew would further infuriate the Ferengi. Ukinix: ::Smirking:: You’d be a *fetching* dabo girl, Commander! To’n: ::Under his breath:: Sure. If I wanted to lose all of my business. Ukinix: What? To’n: ::Fake smile:: Nothing. What will be your next drink, gentlemen? Wil lifted his finger, and unable to keep it still pointed to some of the bottles behind the bar. Ukinix: Two more big glasses of the green ones. And another two shots of the pink one. Teller: And whatever that talkative guy at the end of the bar is having. ::Geoff gestured towards the ancient Lurian with the hollow leg at the end of the bar:: And one for each of his brothers and sisters! Ukinix: Why not! ::Slapping Geoffrey on the back, then turning to T’on:: *Four* more of the pink ones, thanks! The bartender tried to keep the smile off his face. Their elderly patron had seventeen brothers and sisters. The drinks were added to the tab, as requested, as he fetched the rest for the well toasted officers. To’n: That’s a deal. When the Ferengi returned with their drinks, Wil grabbed one of the shot glasses, and handed it to Teller. He then grabbed one of his own. Ukinix: Congratulations, Commander. I’m proud of you. Geoff may have been exhausted, sore, and inebriated - but at that moment he was mostly relaxed. For however brief a time it would last, all was right in his world and he had the rare opportunity to celebrate with a dear friend. Teller: Thanks knackers! ::Geoff finished his drink and procured one of the replacements:: And I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Ukinix: What should we drink to? Geoff considered and had a brief, lucid flash of a children's story he’d heard long ago, about a pirate who learned too late that friendship was the real treasure. Geoff smiled at his brother by bond and raised a glass. Teller: To the real treasure, my friend. Ukinix: To treasure! They clinked their glasses together, before downing the pink liquid. Wil flinched, and his whole body shook as the strong alcoholic beverage went down. Teller: Ugh, that’ll burn a hole right through ya…::Geoff leaned against the bar heavily, lazily wandering through his memory of recent missions::..I ever tell you I met a dragon? Dragons..s. ::Geoff found the word oddly challenging:: They were nice! Ukinix: I think…::raising finger::... that I may be really drunk. We should call it a night. Or a morning. What time is it? Geoff glanced at a wall chrono that was all but hidden behind a giant hoload for something called ‘Papa Zek’s Oomax Guide’ and sprang unsteadily to his feet. Teller: Ungh...I’m supposed to be back on duty in an hour. I’ll have to find the infirmary and get something to clear my head out...or I might be the first person to get promoted and court martialed on the same day. Wil smashed his hand to his chest, to press his combadge - but missed, without him realising. Ukinix: Ukinix to Transporter Room… uh… any transporter room. Two to beam up Geoff squinted, pretty sure Wil and the Captain had arrived by shuttle. Teller: Who are you even trying... Ukinix: Why aren’t they answering? Geoff hoped the infirmary had room for two. Teller: Come on, Vice Admiral Winning Pants. Adventure is this way. Unsteadily, the two staggered towards the infirmary and all that lay beyond. END ==== Captain Roshanara Rahman CO, USS Veritas I238705TZ0 & Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0 & Lieutenant Commander Wil Ukinix Chief Engineer and Second Officer USS Veritas V239511WU0

A feast of a JP from the Thor's junior officers! 😍 An imaginative scene full of mischief and good humour - it's great to see the characters off shift ... getting up to no good! Cannot wait for this to play out. "Pranking The Brass" ((Captain’s Ready Room, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Peri was going to owe Cassie big time. Although she’d already traded shifts with her once, this was going to cost her more, and Cassie wasn’t the type to forget it. At least she had found some humour in the plan, and seemed willing to help them out, for which Peri was grateful. The question was, were they going to get caught? And if they did, what would happen? The young ensign tried really, really hard not to think about that. At least Cassie was willing to make sure they got access to the Ready Room, though how Peri didn’t know. She probably didn’t want to know. All that she knew was that they’d be able to get in and take care of what they wanted to take care of. Alieth had been there when Peri had thought of it, but she had also asked Wes if he would come along. The more hands they had, the faster they would go, which meant they would be less likely to get caught. Making her way through the halls, Peri clutched the bag which contained everything they would need, though she couldn’t help but glance around. It was the middle of the night, so most of the people were just night shifters, but...could they tell? Did they know she was up to no good? Oh shards, she hoped not. As she approached the office, she saw two other familiar forms arrive at the same time. Peri managed a brief if nervous smile. One more glance was given, then, after making sure no one who wasn’t in the know was around, she turned and stepped up to the doors of the ready room. Like magic, they parted. With a squeak, Peri darted in, motioning for her accessories to hurry in with her so they wouldn’t be seen in the hall. When the doors closed behind them, she sighed. Katsim: Computer. Lights. Immediately, they turned on, and Peri set the bag on a chair and unzipped it. Katsim: Um. Alieth...could you stand at the door and...you know, maybe listen? Just in case? Or would it be better to be outside? Vulcans had superior hearing, so she knew Alieth would be able to listen through, but would it be better to see? Could Alieth somehow provide cover for them if she were outside? Peri was definitely not cut out for Intelligence. Alieth: I think it is better that I stay here if I must act as a watchman :: Tilting her head :: If I stand in the middle of the corridor in front of the captain's office, arms crossed, I guess it would be mildly suspicious. Her tone, of course, was solemn and circumspect, yet as she settled down by the door, one of her pointed ears pressed against the wall to listen to the corridor's shenanigans, she glanced sideways at Wes, a glint in her eye. All that prank fuss was proving to be massively entertaining. Inside the bag were a ton of streamers and other supplies that Peri had replicated. She’d used up a week’s allotment for them, but hopefully it would be worth it. Offering a roll to Wes, she pointed to the desk. From the bag, she also retrieved a PADD. During the planning, she realised that it was likely any PADD of the captain’s would be securely locked, so she took one of the standard PADDS that wasn’t associated with a specific person. The message had been set, now they had to implement the plan. Katsim: Wes, if you could help me attach the streamers. I’ll get the PADD on the ceiling. That was a feat only achievable by the mere fact that the desk was tall enough that if Peri climbed on it, she could actually touch the ceiling. Wes leaned against the bulkhead near the door and crossed his arms. With a smile and a shake of the head, he watched the Ensign work. Greaves: Not a chance. I’m just here to observe, and maybe offer some constructive criticism. This is all your prank. Alieth moved her face away from the wall briefly to glance at her friend, who was displaying his best smug face and his keen skill at standing idle without making a move. A very vulcan skill, as far as she was concerned. Katsim: Oh. The poor ensign's response only made the Vulcan woman strive to remain circumspect. Neither she nor Wes were making it easy for Alieth. Peri had thought that when he said he’d come that he’d be willing to help. She hadn’t realised….quickly she ducked her head, a blush lightly brushing across her cheeks as she climbed upon the desk to work on tacking the PADD onto the ceiling. Wes glanced toward Alieth, and their eyes met. He knew that she was a touch telepath, but sometimes he could swear that she could read thoughts without that pesky requirement. Alieth: Since the primary purpose of the JOPA is to assist junior officers, it might not be unreasonable to help her. :: bowing her head and narrowing her eyes somewhat :: furthermore I reckon that the Ensign has aimed high enough with her prank to receive the help of those long arms of yours And maybe after that and just for the Marine's eyes she stuck out her tongue. But just a little. And just quite quickly. Greaves: (Laughing) Alright, alright. You’re right. It’s a pretty ballsy plan anyway. Let’s get it over with. A sense of relief washed over Peri. The more people working, the faster they finished, the less likely they were to get caught. That was the last thing she wanted to happen - especially for Alieth and Wes. Grabbing one end of the streamers, Wes stood on a chair near the wall and connected it to the wall. As he turned to reinforce the connection, his foot nearly slipped as the seat rocked. Peri glanced over at Wes as he began to work with the streamers. The little nodes they would attach had been something Peri had thought of later. With Cassie’s help, she’d gotten them synced up with the message. Once the PADD was taken down, the message would play, the nodes would explode and send confetti and glitter throughout the entire room. The whole place would turn into a rainbow of glittering colours. The Vulcan stood by the wall again and observed them carrying out their tasks, doing what she knew best: being a perfectionist. Alieth: It is a touch crooked in the middle. Four and a half degrees to be exact. As she said this, the two officers on the table leaned dangerously, in a more than unstable balance on one of the edges of the desk. Katsim: Be careful… Greaves: I’m fine. Alieth, help me out with the other side of these things. Peri, are you almost done with that padd? Alieth: Of course The doctor left her position of watchman by the wall for a while, but before joining the group on the desk, she took a small detour towards the door to lock it. Of course, anyone with a higher security clearance level than her (therefore, any senior officer) could override her lock and open the door, but that little protection would save them from most prying eyes. Katsim: I’m done. Carefully, Peri climbed down from her perch on the desk and grabbed another roll of streamers from the bag. The satiny, red material shone slightly under the lights. Taking a second box of tacky stuff with which she would attach it, she pushed the captain’s chair over to the far corner opposite of Wes and climbed up, starting on that part. Katsim: Don’t forget to twist them… That made the streamers a little prettier, and it would help them determine how far apart to set the nodes. Carefully, she attached the end of that streamer, then clambered down from there. Walking around the desk, she dragged one of the visitor’s chairs toward the opposite corner diagonal from where she was. Once there, she climbed again, stepping on her tip toes, wobbling a bit, then attaching a streamer there. Greaves: Twist them? Are you kidding? It’s a prank, not a birthday party. Despite his misgivings, Wes hastily complied and began twisting the streamers in his hands as suggested. While twisting the streamers according to Peri's example, Alieth addressed an issue about which she had always been intrigued. Alieth: It always caught my attention that you humans have so much penchant for celebrating the anniversary of your own birth. What exactly is the event worth celebrating? If it was the nativity itself, you had little merit in it and your progenitors should be the real honorees. The Marine stopped twisting the streamers and looked at Alieth with a raised brow. Of all the things that Vulcan’s usually critiqued, now she was attacking birthdays? Greaves: (shaking his head) It’s a celebration of your personhood. Of your existence. It’s an excuse for friends and family to share their appreciation of you. You don’t have any similar celebrations on Vulcan? From that perspective the celebration made more sense, but it was still highly unproductive for the Vulcan. If at least it was a rite of passage... Alieth: Of course not, the completion of a circumambulation around Eridani A is hardly noteworthy. Moreover, given the disparity between stardates and the years of individual planets, such anniversaries are meaningless. Greaves: Alieth, have you ever heard the term, buzzkill? Alieth: Yes. From you, on our first day at the Embassy. And on exactly eight occasions after that. Also from you. Still a word that has no meaning, though. I have never killed any buzz. Peri simply nodded and continued in her work. That corner done, she scooted over to the middle of the wall on the opposite end, trying to mirror and reverse what Wes was doing with his roll. Greaves: I’m sure the bridge crew are starting to wonder why we came in here. Let’s try and wrap this up before someone comes asking questions. For a moment the Vulcan interrupted what she was doing and pivoted slightly towards the door. As far as her keen ears could ascertain the only thing that she could hear was the gentle and everlasting hum of the vessel and a hoarser and rougher sound stationary on the bridge. If it wasn't a behaviour inconceivable in a starfleet officer, Alieth would have sworn that someone on the bridge was snoring blissfully. Alieth: I heard naught.... although haste in this situation is not farfetched. At that point, Wes and Peri met in the middle. She paused, pondering, then dipped down to go under the streamer in his hand to weave hers beneath, then aimed for the other side of the wall. By then, the streamers were low enough that they didn’t need the chairs any longer. Criss cross, applesauce, over, around, back, through, all over the room the streamers began to weave a web, one that Peri easily navigated and, with a glance at Wes, one that didn’t really hinder him as well. With the Captain’s height, however, he would certainly either have to do some fancy maneuvering, or just plow through them. Peri’s lips tickled upward. That would also detonate the nodes. Eventually, the streamers were depleted, but now they had to go back and attach the nodes. She had been fearful that attaching them beforehand might prove problematic, either with detonation, or the sticky stuff sticking to each other and folding up the streamers. It just seemed to be easier to attach them after they were hung. Each node had already been attached to a piece of the sticky tack, then placed into boxes to prevent them from attaching to anything else, then separated by thin dividers that were of a material that the tack wouldn’t stick to. She handed one to Wes, then made her way to the innermost corner. Preemptively, Alieth moved to her original position next to the door. From there, the husky noise was even more noticeable. Certainly, it SEEMED to be a snore. Greaves: Doesn’t look like there’s enough to just slap these on wherever we want. Did you have a plan for how far spaced out they should be? Katsim: Every...third or fourth curl I guess. Thus she set to work, grateful that they had decided to help after all. Such work would have taken so long if she’d been left by herself to do it all . Except for Cassie who wasn’t available because she was on shift at that time, Alieth and Wes were the only two she felt like she could really call friends. Attaching the nodes went a little faster, and finally, Peri found herself in the outermost corner where Wes had dragged one of the visitor’s chairs. Starting at the bottom, she added nodes to the layers, then climbed upon the chair to attach one to the upper most curl of the top streamer. Reaching up, she fiddled with the node, which decided to stick to her finger instead of the streamer. Pulling hard, she managed to get it to release her skin and adhere to the fabric. Unfortunately, the streamer decided it didn’t want to stick. Peri caught it, then attempted to stick it back on the highpoint of the wall. That corner had originally been Wes’. The streamer had originally been placed a little higher than the one she’d hung on the opposite side of the door, so she couldn't quite reach. After two vain attempts, Peri glanced down, placed one foot on one arm, then the other foot on the opposite one and lifted herself up. That did it. She managed to affix the streamer once more. As she stepped down, however, the chair decided enough was enough. It swiveled. Peri swiveled with it. Peri then stopped swiveling and tumbled over the side of the chair and into the doors of the room. Attentive as she was to the intriguing sound in the bridge, Alieth failed to see the fall coming. She only saw a blur next to her head, which triggered her reflexes and made her leap backwards out of Peri's trajectory. When she realized what had happened, she regretted her sudden move immediately. She could have done something to prevent that fall. Two cracks resounded in succession as head and arm slammed forcefully against the doors, which then parted to let her slide down to the floor. Pain lanced through her arm and her head. Her mouth opened, a cry following a gasp and she curled up in an attempt to retreat from the hammers and daggers that struck at her arm and head. As the woman fell, Wes nearly lost his own footing, and he flailed his arms widely to keep his balance. The moment stretched out until just as Peri collided with the door, he finally got his footing under control. Greaves: Crap. There’s no way they didn’t hear that out there. Peri, you okay? The doctor knelt swiftly beside the ensign, holding her face between her hands to ensure she did not move her neck, just in case. When her slender fingers touched the slightly greyish skin, a pang of pain leaked into the vulcan mind. Peri writhed at the touch, another cry escaping despite her attempt to be quiet. Alieth: I know it hurts, but I need you to stay still :: with gentleness, she moved her fingers over the nape of her, so suddenly, patient, seeking something out of place.:: Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Dizzy? Oh yeah. Nausea? Peri couldn’t think clearly enough to say whether or not she was nauseous. Her head was ringing, the loud crash of a gong unwilling to silence, and despite Alieth’s gentle admonishment, she couldn’t help but jerk away from the Vulcan’s touch. That only made matters worse, as the world, which had already begun to spin, lurched and tumbled upside down. The only verbal answer Alieth received was a long, low groan. Wes hopped down and jogged to the pair of women. Greaves: You have a tricorder on you Alieth? How bad is it? She shook her head, in a negative statement. Alieth: I certainly did not anticipate that I would need it. :: She gazed at the marine sideway:: Give me a moment to examine her. Her fingers kept moving around the back of her neck. As she did so, the Vulcan conveyed some of the calm she had nurtured, trying to placate the emotions that had taken hold of Peri. As the doctor's fingers completed their journey from the base of her skull to her shoulders without finding anything troubling, she finally pulled her hands away and focused on the arm that Katsim held tightly against her chest. Alieth: :: in a soft, reassuring tone:: Can I take a look on it? The telepathic touch was odd. Not odd as in bad, just as in Peri hadn’t ever felt something like that before - yet she immediately recognised that Alieth was connecting with her somehow. Oh yes...Vulcans. Telepathic. If they touched you. That sort of managed to sift its way through the hammers that continued to batter her head. She didn’t /want/ Alieth to take a look. She wanted the pain to go away. Greaves: Alright, we need to get out of here before someone comes around wondering what the racket is. I think I can modify the logs so it doesn’t look like we were here and give us a site to site transport straight to sickbay. The doctor paused what she was doing and nodded briefly. Alieth: To the secondary one, Doctor Quen is working on the main. He stood and moved around to the Captain’s desk. Tapping quickly on the desktop computer Wes found that Captain Kells had remained logged on. He grinned at the good fortune and, using the Captain’s account, encrypted the sensor logs for the room for five minutes before and after the set-up. Finally he set the password ‘ G1TT3RB0MB’, and set up the transport. Meanwhile, Alieth had removed the jacket of her uniform and made a temporary sling that clutched Peri's arm to her chest. Without the protection of the garment, only protected by the under-shirt, the Vulcan suppressed a chill.Certainly the temperature of starships was not made to Vulcan standards. Even less so for those like Alieth, a native of one of her homeworld's equatorial regions, near one of the biggest deserts. If it were her choice, the starship would be kept at least at a comfortable 35 °C (95 °F). Alieth: I want you to hold still, okay? I suspect you have broken your ulna, and I do not intend to let the fracture slide. Hold still? Peri’s automatic response to pain was usually the opposite. One of the way she coped was by movement, almost as if she were trying to circumvent the pain, or distract her body from it with motion. Usually, though, she didn’t have to contend with a head that felt like it was a supernova ready to explode. Movement actually made things worse. Greaves: Alright, we’re set. Alieth: At your mark, Wes. Greaves: (Snapping fingers) Mark. And so, as the footsteps echoed down the corridor, with the somnolent night shift rushing to check what was going on, the three JOPA members vanished in a brief swirl of sparks, without leaving behind any trace that they had been there. Except, of course, for the prank. ((Secondary Sickbay, Deck 18, USS Thor)) In the blink of an eye, the three of them appeared in the medical ward. The deck was virtually empty, with only a couple of nurses enjoying a game of poker in a deck on a corner and an engineer who was in observation attempting to sleep in one of the cubicles in the far end, unsuccessfully due to the cold, clean white light that lit up the entire chamber. Alieth: Ok to that biobed with you, and most importantly, do not move that arm. Greaves: Psh, there’s no bone sticking out, she’s probably okay. (Wink). Alieth halted for a second and with a new thought in mind, turned to face the marine. Alieth: Even better, Wes, could you carry her in your arms? Miss Katsim you just hold that arm tightly. He frowned at the Vulcan and looked about. Sure, they were a couple dozen meters from the nearest bed, but it was her arm that was hurt. Not the woman’s legs… still, if she’d hit her head hard enough… Wes was no stranger to the dizzying nausea that accompanied a strong blow to the head. Without further hesitation, he closed the distance to the petite frame of Peri and from her uninjured side, scooped her up in his arms. Cradling her with one arm under her legs and the other under the small of her back, he exhaled with the effort. Peri squeaked, but she really wasn’t in any condition to resist. Pink flew to her cheeks even as the world spun about her. Now it was nausea’s turn to make its appearance and her stomach churned along with everything else. Cringing, she attempted to not let the combination of pain, queasiness, and embarrassment overwhelm her. Once he was standing upright, she was surprisingly light. Greaves: Oh calm down, it’s easy enough. Doctor’s orders anyway. He crossed the room to the nearest biobed and gently set her down on the edge of it. Though that didn’t help any of the stabbing pain or calm her angry stomach, Peri was grateful not to be subject to the rather mortifying position of sack of potatoes any longer. The doctor scanned her meticulously and remained mute for a long time, a time that became as thick as molasses. As the results flickered on the device side screen, she frowned briefly. Alieth: humm She raised her head to look at her friend and shook it slightly. Alieth: There is little to be done, Mister Greaves, a hopeless case. Greaves: How bad is it? Alieth: Apart from a longitudinal fracture in the ulna, I am convinced that we are dealing with a fatal case of an owie. There is nothing to be done, unfortunately, I have run out of doggie plasters. The Vulcan shook her head in feigned grief. Greaves: Good. I’m pretty sure Commander Teller would put us all on permanent groundskeeping duty if he found out a crewmember got seriously injured while pranking the Captain. Alieth: Five minutes of bone regenerator and she will be ready to be back on duty. Good? How was that good? That wasn’t good at all! Granted, her injuries might be ‘minor’ in the grand scheme of things, but that didn’t make things better. Of course she would manage to injure herself. Of course she would manage to make a fool of herself. All she had wanted to do was to rise up to the task given to her, and she couldn’t even fulfill that properly. As the pain faded thanks to the administrations of the miniature Vulcan doctor, Peri had to silently wonder if it was all worth it. [End] ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: E239702A10 Image Collective Minion & First Lieutenant Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 & Ensign Katsim Science Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 M239008AD0

Write a completely different character for a full mission, but developt It fully and give the character a full arc and development is a feat, even more writing his main and 3-4 npcs more? A real feat, even more keeping the high standard of writing expertise (delightful to read), helping to keep the plot in track and being a steady presente OOC. Once more, @Geoffrey Teller displaying all the skills of a future GREAT captain, imho. Good job man!

Greaves: Dear god! Sir! Photon! They're photon grenades! I could just put that as the summary of this sim and just with that it could be awesome, but, as usual @Wes Greaves have a increasingly amazing skill for action scenes, a perfect timing on those and the appropriate dose of humour. A GREAT sim as he uses to pamper us. Good job man

Everything in this sim is gold. @Geoffrey Teller and @Quentis Denous are monsters and deserve every PRAISE around

I have to confess that I absolutely LOVE logs in a SIM, even more so when they help to summarize previous events (especially when there has been SO much going on in New Bajor, there's an incredible MESS down there, isn't it?) and even more so when they are so carefully narrated and follow up with that elegant balance between humour and duty that makes Teller (Both IC and OOC) so easily enjoyable. Great job man, keep going! @Iron Captain Geffrond Tell

@Judiciar Westus Grevious never disappoints to provide realistic and insightful descriptions, has perfect timing for both action and humour and is more than able to get you hooked with his sims, no matter what he's depicting. Man, you are really cool, keep it up!

Returning after a LOA is not an easy task. Doing it in the middle of a mission, even less so. Still, @Furious Angel Benvus Garci has managed to do it smoothly, bringing the good humour and light-hearted spirit that is his trademark and taking the chance to tie up loose ends (or leave breadcrumbs for future developments) for other crewmembers, turning this in a magnificent SIM, no doubt. Kudos and praises and, overall, welcome back!

One of the problems with SB118 is it's high quality of writing. I'm constantly shamed by the beautiful writings of others, and wish I could infuse humour or realism the way others do. @Judiciar Westus Grevious uses his experience to give us insight into what it's like to be in the military, even one that's space faring. It's a pleasure and honour to write with him and every single other person in this community. ((Valkyrie 4, Grey mode, Orbiting New Bajor)) Josh Henderson had wanted to be a pilot ever since he saw his first air show when he was seven. Alas, it wasn’t in the cards for him, and despite his best efforts, Josh had failed out of flight school, but not so badly that he wasn’t able to stick with Marine aviation. Managing phasers, sensors, and torpedoes from the back seat of a fighter was the next best thing to being in the front seat anyway. It did make for a much more interesting job on missions like the one he was on now. While Ishani was stuck in the front seat with nothing to do, Josh could at least monitor and manipulate the sensor readouts and the craft’s on board sensors. Still, It was much more fun to simply annoy his pilot. As loudly as he could, Josh Henderson cracked all ten of his knuckles in such rapid succession that it could have been mistaken for far off gunfire. Singh: Henderson, would you cut that out? You're not going to have any tendons left in your hands at this rate, and you've got a lot of buttons to push back there. Henderson: Oh please. You front seaters always say we’re just self-loading baggage back here. Maybe it’d do you good to see what happens when I can’t press my buttons. It’s not like anything’s gonna go down anyway. Why are we even out here? Singh: You know why we're here. Because those were our orders, Marine. As for why you're here - I can only assume Lieutenant Greaves is still upset I cleaned him out at poker last month. Josh laughed and reached forward to slap the side of the woman’s helmet in jest. Henderson: I KNEW it. It IS you I have to thank for sitting in a cold tin can with nothing to do! He watched the planet below slowly spin in place, almost imperceptibly slowly. Through the clouds he could see swaths of greens, blues, and tans. Henderson: But really though, what’re we out here for? The Thor up and skedaddled. I mean, I know we’ve got people on the ground, but aren’t we just dropping off supplies? Singh: Well, specifically, our orders were to conduct a training operation. Fleet Captain Kells didn't want to inflame the situation by bringing a big security force down to the planet, because it's his job to be a good representative for the Federation and Starfleet Command. Commander Teller didn't want the CO to be totally exposed, because it's his job to look out for the welfare of the crew, Fleet Captains included. So, he ordered 1st Lt. Greaves to put a low-profile support detachment together, because it's his job to make sure a crayon eater like you has something to do with their days. ::Ishani paused, enjoying the brief moment of silence:: You following all this so far or you like a picture? Henderson: Yeah, I’d love a picture. (fakes searching the [...]pit) Wait, did you eat my box of crayons again? Come-on Snowball, you know I was saving those for after lunch. Just give it to me straight. Singh: So, right now we're training. Our hypothetical training scenario is that the CO and several officers have beamed into potential hostile territory and the Thor has been called away. We are to on high guard. Out the window to our starboard, you'll see Valkyrie 5 doing the same thing. A bit below us and aft is a type 9 shuttle, the Freyr. Should we hypothetically observe something atypical...::Ishani tapped a knuckle on the biomonitors locked onto the away team to accentuate her point::...the shuttle is here to extract our people and we're to provide support. Do you even listen during the briefings? Josh reached below his chair and triggered a mechanical lever. His seat reclined an extra 20 degrees and the WSO leaned back in comfort. Henderson: Me? I took detailed notes, I’ve got this down pat. I just like hearing you rattle off from your high horse. (grinning) Singh: Fine, but next time I expect you to... Josh folded his hands behind his head and stretched his back in the cramped [...]pit just as a red light illuminated the small space. In a split second the crew of the fighter had dropped their back and forth, voices replaced with efficient and professional calls. Josh double checked the validity of the biosigns, and cursed under his breath. Hands flying over the controls, both of them spun up the engines and restored system power. The small fighter came to life with a faded hum, and Josh worked the sensors at full power, isolating the location of the team. Before she could even bring it up, he already was working the comms. Henderson: =/\= Two, this is lead, Loki. I say again, Loki. Follow us down. Spread left. =/\= Valkyrie 4-2 WSO: =/\= Two copies Loki. On it. =/\= Singh: Advise the strat ops officer on the rescue shuttle we are inbound to secure an LZ for them. They're to wait till we're passing through the mesosphere and then follow us down. What's our ETA to the ground? He had a solid fix on the away team on sensors, and Josh sent the coordinates to the front seat nav computer. A small blue triangle populated in their heads up displays, marking the location of the team and populating a computer generated ETA countdown. Henderson: On it. Two is already poshing spread left. The away team’s coordinates should be on your scope as well. I’m not picking up any threats as of yet. He reached for the comm push to talk and keyed the button as the ship rotated to align with the coordinates. Henderson: =/\= Freyr, this is Valkyrie 4-1. Loki. I say again, Loki. We’re inbound to the site and we’ll set you up for a straight in to the LZ. Push once we enter the mesosphere. How copy? =/\= Rouiancet: =/\= Response=/\= Henderson: Unknown at this time. We’re working on it. Recommend you go direct comms with the away team while we push ahead. Valkryie 4-1 out. Josh continued to work the sensor controls, manually fine tuning the scan resolution while powering up the shields and weapons. He checked the adjacent structures, underground, in the air. He checked for unusual particles and looked for energy signatures. Nothing came up out of the ordinary. Henderson: Snowball, looks like we can be down in 120 seconds. Should be hit atmo right away once we push. I’ve got nothing on the scope as far as threats. No idea what happened to the skipper. We might be best off doing some low passes as a show of force over the LZ. Singh: Response Singh: =/\= Freyr, this is Valkyrie 4. We are ten seconds from burndown. Sensors show our people in trouble. Can you confirm? =/\= Rouiancet: =/\= Response =/\= Singh's hands tightened around the controls as the computer counted off the final seconds. Singh: =/\= Copy all. Valkyrie 4, committing. =/\= That was it. Despite the two of them sharing the same rank, Snowball had been given the role of mission commander, and it was her choice on how to address anything that popped up while the Thor was away. She had spoken the magic words, commit, and now the mission was on. Josh felt a subtle shift in gravity as the ship rocketed forward and the inertial dampeners compensated. It was go time. Rouiancet: =/\= Response =/\= Henderson: Roger, we’re committed. The nose of the fighter aligned with the planet and the engines surged to life. Out the [...]pit window, New Bajor grew until it filled Ishani's view entirely, and then the plasma flames of reentry began creeping around the canopy. The roar in the [...]pit quickly grew deafening. As the ship shot into the atmosphere of the planet it began to rock violently. Under normal circumstances the dampeners would compensate admirably, but Snowball had them in a steep dive under significant acceleration. A very non-standard entry. Alarms began ringing throughout the [...]pit and Josh pulled up diagnostic readouts. Henderson: (Shouting over the roar) Take it easy Snowball. We’re coming in too hot. Hull temperature is sky rocketing. Singh: Response Henderson: We can’t help them if we become a bright red smear across the sky! I’m trying to compensate with vents. Almost as soon as he keyed the controls to begin venting some of the heat, the sound of stressed metal filled the [...]pit and the craft suddenly jerked left as a tearing thunk signaled the destruction of something on the hull. Warnings flashed across his display. Singh: Response Henderson: Whoops! Don’t mind that, might have just torn off a shuttered vent intake. No vents it is. I need you to slow us down 12 percent. That’ll keep us at red line, but it’ll keep us alive. Trust me on this. Singh: Response The next several moments were filled with tense rocking and buffeting as the ship decelerated in the increasingly thick air. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime of staring at hull temperature readouts, they were safely through the reentry and closing on the away team’s location. Henderson: They’re inside a structure, but it looks like there’s a good spot for the shuttle to set down right next to the entrace. I’m pushing the coordinates to the Freyr now. He rapidly tapped a few keys and pushed more data to the pilot’s computer and heads up display. Henderson: You should see a flight path on your display now. Follow it precisely, and I mean perfectly. It’ll take us over the heads of whoever is down there, clearing buildings by a few feet. Probably will shatter a couple windows too. Anyone thinking of pushing their luck will think twice. Singh: Response TBC ========================= 2ndLt Josh Henderson Marine Weapons Systems Operator E239702WG0 =========================

That @Iron Captain Geffrond Tell is a great writer is a fact, like the water is wet and the sun will rise again tomorrow (unless you are very close to one of the poles ) For that alone, this SIM already deserves to be read. If we add to that the presence of fighter pilots (which I think polarizes the fans quite a bit) with a slightly different perspective quite interesting to read, the magnificent way of knitting tags for others without directing the answers too much and that this SIM is a scene that connects two other scenes (so that the whole act gains a more cinematographic momentum) makes this SIM a great example of good work to involve the crew and keep the tension and interest high. Brian, you are so good at what you do that you are just loathsome, Keep it up, setting the bar very high so that we can strive to live up to you

Mr. T (aka @Iron Captain Geffrond Tell ) never disappoints and is able to juggle and mix humour, drama, and bring a scene to life in an outstanding way. And, of course, establishing small details that become IMMEDIATELY canon (or headcanon). That Sulu catchphrase? Canon forever thanks for this little gem

Another good example of @ElandraDAR 's good work. Not only does she add extra weight to the scene, but she is able to write 3 very different characters in it, knitting everything masterfully with the contributions of her cowriters here: @Iron Captain Geffrond Tell , @Sirok and @Tara Wilkins . An excellent job and a great way to close a scene leaving us full of questions and wanting to know more. Good work to you all!

I am always impressed by Dar's ability to provide great quality and depth to her characters, with a few concise lines. Here, with an MSNPC she shows it in all its splendor, sketching the life of an entire family and how it articulates with the mission in a wonderful scene. An admirable presentation of MSNPC. Good work @ElandraDAR !