Search the Community

((Intensive Care Unit, Medical Starbase 358, Four Years Ago - Late 2387)) ::Silence. Pure silence.:: ::Silence, of which was deafening. Though it’d been a few days without thoughts other than his own invading his privacy, it’d been excruciating. He’d only felt like this when he was a child, growing up in the world of extremely quiet minds. It was difficult to get into a Rodulan’s head, so leaving the home planet for Starfleet had been overwhelming. He’d dealt with that. Gotten used to it, even used it to his advantage. But now?:: ::Not even a whisper.:: ::Tristam glanced around his room, glaring at the beeping monitor, of which (he presumed) kept track of his heart rate. Hadn’t 24th century technology gotten past the need for sound confirmation? With the absence of something proper to listen in to, he could hear his heart beating in his ears. Loud thumps. Sometimes a millisecond slower or faster, the beeping was getting on his nerves. It *had* been getting on his nerves, for the last few days.:: ::His mind was so foggy that he couldn’t even keep track of how many days it’d actually been. What a disaster. No telepathy, no mental ability, no physical ability . . . he might as well have been a vegetable.:: ::Out of nowhere, a new sound, rivalling that of the annoying and incessant beeping of the monitor, found its way into his ears. Footsteps, on the hard floor in the corridor. It was, at least, something to distract him, compared to the lack of activities he had to actually engage himself with. Whether or not it was just a passer-byer was his main question, one which was answered quickly.:: Sampi: Good morning, lieutenant. ::Doctor Charles Sampi stepped into the room, pleased to see that Tristam was awake. The junior doctor of the Pioneer had elected to stay with the engineer on the medical starbase while he was still in a coma following the accident. For the first couple of weeks, there were some precarious nights, but gradually, the Rodulan’s brain function seemed to be improving. Whether he’d actually be able to return to duty though was still too early to say.:: Sampi: Did you get a good night’s rest? ::The Rodulan took a breath in, holding it for a few seconds before he replied.:: Core: I don’t know. ::He hadn’t even been aware that it was morning until the doctor’s mention of it. Days blurred together. He’d close his eyes one second, open them to what might have been a new day the next second. Tristam looked down, fingers doing their best to motion towards the monitor.:: Core: Sound. ::he gave a slight sigh.:: Turned on again. Sampi: Yes. After the scare you gave us two nights ago, we felt it better to keep you on 24-hour telemetry. But if you’d like them muted… Core: The tone could be changed. The sound it puts out. It’s . . . emitting a frequency. And it’s irritating. I-I would like it turned off . . . ::The young doctor nodded and went over to silence the monitors.:: Sampi: Of course. Unfortunately, it’s one of the cruelest ironies that it’s difficult to get proper rest in a hospital. Core:::mumbling:: Unconscious and sleeping are two different things. Sampi: Now, lieutenant, the nurses tell me you haven’t really been eating much. Core: ‘M not hungry. Sampi: Understandable, but it’s important that you continue to get proper nutrition, especially while you’re bedbound. We really don’t want you to lose too much of your muscle mass. ::Muscle mass. It’d never been important to him, never came up at any point in his life except for now. Sure, he required muscles to lift things - lifting all sorts of things - but keeping a mass whilst bed-ridden? Wasn’t exercise required for that? He didn’t even know how bad his knee was, hadn’t been willing to test it and the doctors and nurses hadn’t been willing to make him stand - assisted or on his own - let alone move that leg.:: Core: My knee. Reconstructed . . . should be moved, shouldn’t it? Therapy of some kind? Sampi: Yes, but we have to make sure it’s safe for you to do so first. It’s only been a week since you’ve regained consciousness. Core: It aches. All of it. ::Tristam was an engineer. He wasn’t built to deal with injuries like this - he wasn’t even fully aware of the whole list of injuries he’d received, but he knew it was bad. He was lucky to be awake right now, let alone speaking, being about to nod, move his fingers - he could probably move both his legs, he’d just been too frightened to try.:: Sampi: I can increase your pain medication if it’s still bothering you after the nurses administer your current dosages. How does that sound? ::There was a pause and a frown as he considered the doctor’s words.:: Core: I don’t like being foggy. Sampi: All right, but let me know if you decide otherwise. Now, I’d like to go over a few questions with you, lieutenant. ::He offered a warm smile.:: I’m sure you’ve memorized them by now. Core: Always nice to test me. ::It gave him something to do, to think about. Maybe even to come up with new creative ways to answer - though the questions were so bland, requiring the correct answer. It was difficult to come up with interesting ways to answer questions like this.:: Sampi: ::nods:: Can you tell me your name. Core: Tristam Daniel Core. Sampi: And where are you right now? Core: Medical Starbase. No one’s told me the number - it’s never come up. ::He did hope, however, that the nurses had conveyed the proper information to his family. Last thing he really needed was for Gamighan to have a fit because of a nurse telling him his son had been in an accident without bothering to tell him where Tristam was now. Speaking of Gamighan, it’d be nice to have a family member around - Taywor or his dad. He’d even settle for Yanata, Taywor’s partner.:: ::The doctor nodded again.:: Sampi: And what day is it? ::That was always the hard one. He glanced up at the doctor, suddenly working his mind more to come up with the correct answer to that one. When had their last conversation been? Yesterday, wasn’t it? No, because . . . ::He didn’t know. He wasn’t even aware that *weeks* had passed since . . . :: ((Three weeks earlier, Main Engineering, USS Pioneer)) ::The Rodulan leaned in closer to Rahman to whisper to her, an amused smile on his face.:: Core: Remember that Admiral Kj-whatever is watching. Could definitely end our careers if we relax and all. ::It had been an attempt to lighten the “official” mood of the long awaited experiment. An Admiral - of whom Tristam had never been able to remember his name properly - had visited for a reason only the Artist knew. Something to do with this experiment being a part of the larger “quantum slip” project or whatnot. He didn’t really find it all that important and therefore didn’t pay it all that much attention.:: ::After a brief inspection of the systems, of which were flawless as per usual, they had commenced. So far, it was going smoothly - except for the insane amount of tension in Engineering. If he had a knife, he could probably cut through it.:: ::Roshanara was busy monitoring the increased plasma flow along the power transfer conduits.:: Rahman: Ahem. Would you behave? ::She shook her head slightly, although a smile of her own did escape as well.:: Core: Oh, I’m sorry. Am I being cheeky in front of the admirals again? Rahman: You’re being something, all right… ::She tapped a few controls on her console to initiate the graviton particle actuators.:: How are we looking on our power levels? Core: Steady. No fluctuations. ::She nodded. She was about to charge the gravitons when Admiral Kjær, head of Starfleet R&D, walked up behind them.:: Kjær: Everything looking all right, lieutenant? Rahman: Yes, sir. Just about to begin the initiation. ::The admiral looked pleased as he took a glance around the room, calling the attention of the other engineers.:: Kjær: Remember this moment, people. Just another step towards a new era of starship design and exploration. ::Roshanara took a deep breath. No pressure at all…:: ::She began the particle charge and as before, everything seemed to be going smoothly.:: Core:::nudging the Kriosian:: Seriously, you’re practically shouting your unease in my ear. *Relax*. ::She whispered back as the low whine of the particle actuators could be heard under the deck.:: Rahman: I’m sorry! It’s just… you remember the simulations. This is where it happens. Core: Don’t jinx it. ::She stared at the screen, holding her breath. They had discovered the failure once the graviton charge had reached 70%. Not consistently enough for Starfleet to call off the entire demonstration, but enough for Roshanara to have lost sleep over it the past week.:: Rahman: Particle actuators at full power. Watch those leads. Core: I know, I’ve got it covered. Calm down. ::On the screen, the charge slowly increased. 3%. 7%. 16%. It quickly picked up in pace, jumping several integers at a time. 31% 38%. 47%.:: ::An alarm went off. Roshanara glanced at the marker and tapped her combadge.:: Rahman: =/\= Bradley, I’m reading a slight dip in the flow rate. =/\= Bradley: =/\= Yes, ma’am. Just a little dirt in the mix. =/\= Rahman: =/\= Keep it to above 15. =/\= Bradley: =/\= Aye. =/\= ::Glancing back at her display, the charging process continued. 56%. 64%. 68%.:: ::She took in another breath.:: ::71%. 74%.:: ::Tristam didn’t have to read the console to know they’d made it past the critical point. His smile was still on his face as he noted the change of tone in her thoughts - relief, from what he could gather.:: ::She let out her breath.:: Core: Told you. ::She looked over at him and finally gave out a genuine smile today.:: Rahman: I suppose so. All right, get ready to begin the graviton transfer on my- ::The deck underneath them suddenly jostled, nearly sending her falling into him. A new alarm began sounding as her fingers flew over her console. The flow rate had dipped again below the threshold.:: Rahman: We need more power to the actuators. Core: I’m already rerouting. ::[...] it, it wasn’t working. She called Bradley again.:: Rahman: =/\= Ensign, I need that rate increased now. =/\= Bradley: =/\= Working on it, lieutenant. Having trouble stabilizing the EPS- =/\= ::His voice was cut off by the thunder of an explosion as the ship shook again violently.:: Rahman: =/\= Bradley? Are you all right? =/\= ::There was no answer.:: Rahman: oO [...] it. Oo ::The admiral along with the Pioneer’s chief engineer, a gruff Zaldan lieutenant commander named Meran, returned from farther up Main Engineering.:: Meran: What’s going on, Rahman? Rahman: We’ve had a loss of power in one of the actuators. It’s causing an imbalance in the system. ::But her change in tone emphasized her greater concern over the failed experiment.:: Sir, it sounds like Bradley might be hurt. We have to abort. ::The admiral seemed not too keen on that suggestion, his voice showing some frustration.:: Kjaer: Now, now, lieutenant, let’s not be too hasty. Surely you can find a work around? ::Tristam, having taken off immediately, was already in action and putting out fires on the upper deck, when he called out.:: Core: With all due respect, sir, the system is about to come down on our heads. ::The chief engineer nodded.:: Meran: I’m inclined to agree. History will just have to wait a little longer, admiral. ::He turned to Roshanara.:: Shut her down. ::Roshanara nodded and initiated the shutdown. It was frustrating to have it end this way, but they had little choice.:: Rahman: I’m deactivating the actuators now. Once I get the system fully disengaged, I’ll prepare a level 2 diagnostic to- ::Again, the ship rocked hard, this time knocking several crewmen off their feet. The admiral went over to help some of them as Roshanara looked over her panel to find out what was going on. Meran stepped up beside her, surveying the system schematics.:: Meran: One of the flow regulators isn’t responding! It’s still feeding an actuator. Rahman: It’s Bradley, sir. There must be something wrong down there. I’ll get down there and shut it down manually. ::She was about to head to the ladder when the chief stopped her.:: Meran: Negative, lieutenant. I need *you* up here finishing the shutdown. I’ll go. You can walk me through it. Rahman: Sir, respectfully, it’s not as simple as flipping a switch. ::The chief didn’t hide his annoyance, perhaps because of her use of courtesy or the implication that it was out of his grasp - or both.:: Meran: I may not hold a doctorate, Rahman, but I assure you I do know a thing or two about engineering. Rahman: Commander, I didn’t mean- Core: For Artists’ sake, by the time you two are done bickering we won’t *have* any flow regulators or actuators to shut down! ::He climbed down a ladder, passing the two.:: Rahman, do what you do best - Meran, not your project. Meran: Wait! ::But Tristam had already descended to the lower level. Meran turned back to Roshanara.:: Meran: Is *he* qualified to do this? ::To reassure him, she answered in the only way the Zaldan would understand and respect.:: Rahman: To be frank, sir, even more than you. ((Lower Engineering Level, USS Pioneer)) ::It was an unexpected mess. Tristam waved as much smoke away as he could, coughing through it as he rushed past plasma fires. The other engineers around him were working like ants, containing the fires the best they could. By the time he’d reached the flow regulators, he’d spotted Bradley - now he understood why the man hadn’t responded to Rahman’s last call. The last explosion hadn’t just fused a regulator, but knocked Bradley out cold as well.:: ::This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was just an experiment, for some new propulsion drive, and not even the entire drive - just one part of the drive. Nothing deadly. They weren’t testing a weapon. Yet here he was, dragging a Terran away to safety - and away from where Tristam needed to be.:: ::Once that was done, Tristam returned to the regulator. If he didn’t get this done in time, Bradley would have been the least of his concerns. A manual shut down on the flow regulator, when it was running this hard, was risky. If he brought down the power flow to the actuator too slowly, he wouldn’t be any help at all. And if he did it too quickly, the system could destabilize. Wiping away sweat on his brow, he started to work on the regulator.:: ::As much as he had given Rahman a hard time about being nervous earlier, he found himself a little apprehensive. He tried to remember from all the long nights spent in that lab what she had been talking about. Fortunately, while Tristam didn’t care much for propulsionists and their theories, he was good when it came to remembering the little details.:: ::And so, sure enough, as he watched over the regulator’s control panel, he realized that he actually did know what he was doing. He didn’t even have to call her as he gently guided the plasma flow downwards. The actuator overhead slowly came to a halt as it sipped its last drop of power.:: ((Back on Main Engineering)) Rahman: Actuators fully powered down. ::She looked up from the panel back at Meran and the admiral.:: He did it. ::The chief returned a sharp nod.:: Meran: We’ve still got EPS surges across half the system. ::As Meran went off to direct the other engineers in the room, Roshanara tapped her combadge. She couldn’t suppress her smile.:: Rahman: =/\= Rahman to Core. =/\= Core: =/\= We’re still in one piece, I see. =/\= Rahman: =/\= Thanks to you! Great work. =/\= Core: =/\= Yeah, well, it’s not over yet. =/\= Rahman: =/\= Trust me, when this is all done, you’ll have all the swuit sticks you could ever want. =/\= Core: =/\= That better include your company. =/\= Rahman: =/\= Hmmph. All right, lieutenant. I think you earned it. =/\= Core: =/\= Agreed. I am the best Rodulan engineer ever. =/\= ::Her smile faded as she saw one of the EPS monitors light up on her panel. She tried to stop the oncoming plasma surge, but more warning lights lit up along the EPS grid as the surge continued its cascade down the conduit towards him.:: Rahman: oO No, no, no! Oo ((Lower engineering level)) ::Normally, the Rodulan wouldn’t have been able to listen to one set of thoughts in a crowd of many - the amount of engineers scurrying around him meant he wasn’t only listening to the sounds around him, but to the thoughts of at least thirty, maybe forty other people as well. He was lucky he was able to sort through thoughts at all, considering he’d only been off planet for around six years. Rodul was a place of silence, meaning no thoughts could be heard unless you deliberately tried to read someone elses thoughts - though this was to your own peril, and the only one in his family capable of reading another Rodulan was his brother, though not without consequences.:: ::The sudden loud thoughts of one Roshanara Rahman, however, somehow managed to push through the blockade of the other random thoughts around him. The tone, the volume, and the fact that it was thought rather frantically usually meant something was up.:: Core: =/\= Roshanara? What’s- =/\= ::Her voice called out to him desperately through his combadge.:: Rahman: =/\= Tristam, get out of there now! =/\= ::Despite Roshanara’s warning, he hadn’t been given enough time. He’d barely registered what she’d said before it’d happened.:: ::It wasn’t a loud “bang” - it was worse than that. It was the sound of his ear drums bursting at what he would only later presume to have been the plasma conduit rupturing off to his side. He’d managed to clear the relay only a miniscule period of time before it blew as well. He knew that burns from an EPS relay, although painful, wouldn’t be life threatening. What he hadn’t counted on, however, was the sheer force of the explosion. He was light enough to be thrown into the bulkhead on his left.:: ::It was all very hazy after that, but despite his ears already ringing, he heard *another* explosion, close to him - whether or not it was above or next to him, he’d never know - as it caused the deck plating to tear apart. His last glimpse was of a massive bulkhead coming down on top of him. It was at that point everything went black.:: ::Silence. Pure silence.:: ---- Lieutenant JG Tristam Core Engineer, USS Pioneer & Lieutenant Roshanara Rahman R&D Engineer, USS Pioneer

((Counseling Suites - Moonsong’s Office)) :: He was still calm, and was fighting back his own waves of anger. The tears that threatened to rise to the surface were being held back by a manifestation of his will. Here he was, arguing with the one person on the ship who he came to for help. None of his conversations with Sal ever went this badly. :: ::Raissa stared him down, her dark eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She rose to her feet and moved away from him. Her hands clenched into fists as she struggled for self control. She was a counselor. This was her patient. This wasn’t how she was supposed to do her job. She was supposed to be emotionally distanced from the patient. Somehow that line had blurred and she crossed it without realizing it. A mistake that could cost both of them.:: Moonsong: ::her voice was hoarse:: I’m sorry CD… Doctor Skyfire. You came to me for help and I’m failing you. ::She paused, struggling to find the words. She decided to be honest. She wouldn’t blame him if he decided he wanted a different counselor. So much for her breaking his rotating counselors streak. :: Moonsong: ::she didn’t look at him:: You matter to me. Your life matters to me. It’s not professional of me, I know. Maybe the connection is the reason… I don’t know. But the thought of you dying… so senselessly... hurts. :: He watched her, listened to her words. His eyes continued to burn with the unshed tears, his calm seriously impacted. He had just endured the wrath of Raissa, and survived it with no shields around his mind. Much like yesterday, with the wrath of Gabi. And yesterday he got punched in the jaw for it. Did he need to reschedule? Did he want her help? After this, he wasn’t sure. Yet, something in her words touched him. She mattered to him as well, though for a different reason. His own voice seemed a bit strained as he spoke. :: Skyfire: I told you...there was method to my madness… :: He trailed off, resting his right elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. He didn’t have the words to elaborate right now. :: Moonsong: ::her voice was soft:: I know… But you have to know I will never be happy whenever you choose to risk yourself again. ::She paused and turned to face him:: And you will… it’s what you do. :: Her words cut into him like a d’ktagh, a single tear glistening on his face now from her wrath. He needed the shielding. This incident proved he needed the shielding. And right now, he didn’t have it. His calm was now severely wrecked, hurt and yet humbled by her words. He hated his profession for a few moments, but missed the sense of having a family. Desperate for one, without ever finding it within Starfleet. oO Except Sal, who’s on the Columbia. Oo He didn’t know how to react. :: Skyfire: :: Without looking up :: What do I do? :: Raissa looked down at the man sitting before her. Right now she felt as if she were looking at one of her brothers. Despite the grief she gave them, if they needed her help, she was there. :: Moonsong: It… it is your choice…. I want to help you… :: She decided to stick with the honesty route. It was better for him to make his choice with all the facts. :: If teaching you to properly shield gives you even a tiny bit of protection that could save your life…. If you’re not being battered by the thoughts of others… you can think things through with a clear mind… or without outside influence. :: Raissa returned to her chair across from him. She did not sit back. She leaned forward her hands clasped tightly together. She looked up at him with clear eyes. :: Moonsong: :: Her voice was a whisper: :: I would never turn my back on family. :: He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers, another tear or two streaking his face as he echoed the last word with a burst of confusion and relief. :: Skyfire: ...family? Moonsong: :: Her voice was soft even as she looked away from him. :: It is what I see when I look at you… feel you… :: He didn’t get it at first. Much like when he confessed his feelings of brotherly love to Sal, the ginger-haired counselor didn’t follow because he didn’t know what love is. And therefore couldn’t return it. In this case, CD dawned on the realization, and asked quietly with a touch of hesitation. :: Skyfire: Do you see Alexi or Andre when you look at me? Moonsong: :: Her eyes traveled over his face. :: You look nothing like them, but you do [...] me off like they do. :: He managed a faint nod, barely able to register what she was saying. He was still a mental wreck, unbalanced by her words. CD searched her eyes with his own, hindered as he was by additional tears that threatened to spread across his cheeks. :: Skyfire: Can we reschedule? I think I need time… :: Pause, however awkward. :: ...or shields… :: Beat. :: ...or both… Moonsong: ::She nodded. She’d be lucky if she kept her counseling license after this. :: I can give you temporary help with shielding until you take your inhibitor. I can help you put up something temporary. :: He blinked away a few tears, and noted the hesitation behind her words. In this instance, though he was still learning, he could tell she was preoccupied by...something else beyond seeing one of her brothers in him. :: Skyfire: I...I haven’t taken it in two days...not since I did that stunt on the station.. Moonsong: :: She stared at him. :: Two days…. You’ve never been able to function without them that long before have you? :: It was hard for him to find the words. His Russian was still a little noticeable in his words. :: Skyfire: I can, da. I just don’t like going that long vithout them until I get control over it. Moonsong: ::her mouth tightened slightly as she considered his words.:: I… I don’t think … I mean I guess I didn’t understand what you were using the inhibitors for. I thought you were using them to suppress your talent because you didn’t have any kind of telepathic shielding. :: To that, he just nodded. She was partly correct. :: Skyfire: That too. No shielding, no control. So, inhibitors were recommended. Moonsong: ::She just stared at him. Frowning slightly. She thought she would teach him how to shield and basic controls, but….:: But something is different…. :: Again, he nodded. He had become too reliant on the inhibitors to prevent everything from exploding around him. :: Skyfire: I think my brush with death might’ve had something to do with it, but vhat do you think it is? Moonsong: ::she shook her head slightly:: Honestly I don’t know… You need basic shielding… I think you should use the inhibitors to catch up on rest… lack of sleep makes it harder…. ::she hesitated:: I can help… if you want... Skyfire: :: He caught onto the hesitation. :: You’re hesitating, Ris. Why? Moonsong: ::She stared down at her hands: Because the easiest way, the natural way, to do that is a telepathic link. But….I’m still trying to deal with my own issues that might bleed through to you. My own shielding and control is shaky as I try to rebuild them. For that matter, I still don’t know what caused my powers to spike. :: He wiped away his tears with both hands, forcing himself to breathe. He was also hesitant; he wanted her help but by the same token if he didn’t accept it he would probably be more at risk than he was already for either doing something dumb or setting someone off. Despite his battered calm, he managed to keep his voice level. His Russian faded a little. :: Skyfire: Much as I need it… :: He glanced down at her hands, then nodded faintly. He needed this shielding, and hopefully some control would come with it. oO Is this reckless too? Oo :: I accept... :: Her hands clenched together tightly on her knees, the skin white as her fingernails dug into her palms. She swallowed hard and forced more control on herself. She was taking a risk that could be dangerous. Ironic since she had scalded him with her anger about taking risks with his life. Now they could be taking a risk with both their sanity. :: Moonsong: This requires that you trust me completely. You have to let me take control. :: He managed to blink away a few tears. Despite this “little brother” role she cast him in and the sibling quarrel they just had, he gave a faint nod. He felt his hold over his emotions starting to slip, and took a breath in an attempt to force control into himself. :: Skyfire: Alright. ::Raissa hesitated a scant moment and then reached across the table to take his hands. She was shielded but he wasn’t. She dredged up every technique her grandmother had taught her about telepathy and empathy. Closing her eyes she let go of her physical self and entered a place of the mind. The mental image she conjured was that of a plain white room. There were no windows or door but light surrounded them. She opened her ‘eyes’ to look at CD and gauge his reaction to the place. Thier surroundings would waver as his perceptions took over and she needed to see how far his trust would take them.:: :: CD also closed his eyes in the physical realm, and let himself slip into the realm of metaphysical. A place he’d been before -- the construct. Once his projected image opened his eyes, he glanced around and felt nothing. No anger, no panic, no rage. There was nothing. Just Raissa, and the light. :: Moonsong: ~ You are within my shields. ~ ::for a moment one of the walls seemed to soften and then it firmed and became solid again.:: ~ This is how I see them. ~ :: Skyfire’s projection glanced around once more before meeting her eyes. He felt words on the tip of his tongue, letting himself speak. :: Skyfire: ~Lead on, then.~ ::This time her hesitation was obvious along with her concern. Though she asked for his trust, she didn’t fully trust herself:: Moonsong: ~This is a basic shielding form I learn from my grandmother…. I want you to feel these walls and place your own. Overlay mine. They don’t have to be white. ~ ::She watched him carefully. Yet the corner of her mental sight kept catching a glimpse of a disembodied toothful smile.:: :: He walked over to one of the walls and ran a hand over it, feeling the wall. Tracing the texture. He too saw the disembodied toothful grin that seemed to take shape on the wall he was examining, and jumped back as though it was going to bite him. He wanted the cheshire to go away, so he could focus. The walls rippled slightly, forming a dark oceanic blue color. Though the grin was still present. :: Moonsong: ::she was frowning as one wall became blue. The ‘smile’ was becoming persistent; ~What is that image? It is coming from you. ~ :: Chythar tried to keep his calm, his muscles tensing as he came to the realization. :: Skyfire: ~It’s...a...cheshire cat…~ Moonsong: ~ Why is it here? ~ :: Skyfire sighed heavily and tried to use his force of will to make it go away. He still had no real shielding to speak of, only one of the walls having been transformed. :: Skyfire: ~I don’t know. I saw him..it...during my brush with death...taunting me…~ Moonsong: ::Her voice was uncompromising:: ~You do know… It is coming from your mind. What does it mean? Think!~ Cheshire: :: fades into existence, head first. :: ~Cathar!~ You are a sight for sore eyes, I must say! :: His eyes closed, muscles tensing as the cat faded into existence. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with an explanation for the cat. He was silent for several moments. :: Cheshire: :: faded into existence completely. :: ~Cat got your tongue, Cathar?~ Skyfire: ~I...I think he...was the one who…~ :: He trailed off for a moment. He needed to get the rest of the words out.No matter how much he disagreed with the reasoning. :: ~He’s the one who made me reach out to you…~ ::Raissa stared at him for a moment. The wall behind her flickered with a montage of images so fast they took only a moment. A storm, trees bending in response to a violent wind, then fire burning until the wall returned to white. In a way the wall showed a representation of her emotions. She fought for control again. He needed to shield. That was all. More could come later. Except for the issue of this annoying striped cat:: Moonsong: ~Not he…. you… you reached out to me… Your mind chose this image. Only you can control it. ~ :: The cat distorted in it’s shape for a moment, and then faded completely as Skyfire gained enough control to make it disappear as he sank to his knees. He was probably too drained to maintain control of the wall, but it held. :: ::Raissa watched and for a moment the cat had smirked in her direction as if it knew something she didn’t.:: Moonsong: ~Continue. Once you’ve finished it will maintain itself. One wall isn’t enough. ~ :: His concentration was faltering a bit. He blinked and tried shaking his head to clear it, reaching his good hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He tried to focus his energy to make the rest of the walls the same color, his left clenching into a fist for focus. The walls gradually shifted color to the oceanic blue, and his silence indicated contemplation. :: Moonsong: ::her voice was quiet.:: ~ You need to finish it. Let got of your physical self. ~ :: He slowly obeyed, letting his hands hang by his sides. He clenched and unclenched his hands a couple times as the floor and ceiling shifted to match the color of the walls. :: ::When he looked in her direction he saw she had changed. Her form was no longer solid. Transparent and floating above the floor. Barely there..:: Moonsong: ~Make sure all the joints are sealed. ~ :: It took him a few moments to comply, his muscles tensing for a moment or two. When his eyes opened, she poofed like the cheshire had done. :: :: The cheshire reappeared again, and he laughed mockingly at the doctor. :: Cheshire: ~Was that so hard, Cathar? Why didn’t you figure that out earlier?~ :: His eyes opened slowly, a wave of shock crossing his face once again. Then he snapped back :: Skyfire: ~Oh, shut up.~ :: Despite the shielding, he attempted telepathic contact with Ris. :: Skyfire: ~Can I stop…?~ Moonsong: ::her mental voice was faint and layered in exhaustion and pain she couldn’t hide:: ~ Yes… your shielding will hold… ~ :: Skyfire came back to his physical self, opening his eyes and panting for a few seconds. His muscles were tense, and he was completely wiped from the effort. :: ::Raissa had let go of his hands and had fallen back in her chair looking almost as bad as she had when she beamed up from the station. The mechanics of teaching him to shield telepathically meant he had to literally push her out while she pushed back. It was exhausting, but effective. Especially when it worked. Of course she had never explained any of that part to him.:: Moonsong: Feel better? :: It took him several moments to formulate a response. He felt silence. Felt nothing. He wasn’t even sensing anything except the exhaustion they both felt. :: Skyfire: Everything’s gone...gone quiet… Moonsong: ::She closed her eyes:: You… you’ll learn to modify them as needed. This is the foundation. At this point….. ::she took a deep breath and then let it out:: Once… you get comfortable with the shielding…. You won’t need me anymore….. ::she put both hands to her head:: By my ancestors… what did you do to me…? :: It took him only a few seconds to react. :: Skyfire: Maybe...we can revisit this...in a few days? We both need...a bit of sleep, I think... Moonsong: If you like. But now that you have a basic shield… you really don’t need me anymore. :: He picked up the cold tea and drained its contents before slowly rising to his feet. :: Skyfire: I’ll call later to schedule those tests. Checking for brain damage and seeing where your powers… :: He blinked a few times. :: ..where your powers fall on the scale now. Moonsong: ::She leaned her head back and put an arm over her eyes as if the light was too much.:: Fine, but Dr. Ven is an arrogant a--...... His nose is so high in the air the gods don’t need toilet paper. :: The doc nodded faintly in understanding. He didn’t like the man either. :: Skyfire: If you’d rather I administer the tests and so on, I will do so. Just to minimize the friction within the department. Moonsong: ::She removed her arm to peer at him.:: If I have a choice I don’t want to deal with the man. He is very competent in his field but he makes me feel like a lab rat. Skyfire: Say no more. I’ll handle the tests, you won’t have to deal with him. :: He felt the exhaustion from her. :: Tell you what. You can call me when you’re ready. We’ll talk more at that point. ::Raissa nodded. As far as she was concerned their session was over. All she wanted to do was to crawl into bed get some sleep. Ideally she’d like to crawl into Carter’s bed and… Her eyes flew open.: Moonsong: ::her face reddening:: Uh… yes. Of course Doctor. :: He disposed of his cup and headed out the door. He felt better. For once in his life since his accident with Azin, he had some shielding and a sense of control. :: ==== Lieutenant Chythar Skyfire Acting CMO USS Garuda NCC 73809 & Lieutenant JG Raissa Moonsong Counselor USS Garuda​

(( Sickbay, USS Garuda )) :: Ensign Carter Greyson had returned with the recent away team, and didn’t have time to change. He recalled that he’d seen Ris transported away at Gabi’s insistence, and made his way to sickbay to check up on her. He entered and approached her bedside, noting that she didn’t quite seem herself. :: Greyson: Hey. You alright? ::Raissa opened her eyes slowly. She felt strangely light headed and calm. Almost floating in a warm comfortable state. It took her eyes a moment to focus on the face floating above her. Her mouth curved into a warm smiles:: Moonsong: ::softly:: Carter…. You must be a dream… :: He smiled down at her, his eyes sparkling with warmth. He too was calm, but unimpeded by medication and seemingly unaffected by the projection. :: Greyson: No. I’m real. Wanted to see how you were. Gabi was pretty insistent on getting you out of there. I just got back. Moonsong: ::her smile faded:: Gabi… you’re with Gabi… not fair… ::She remembered seeing them together before she transported away. Gabi and Carter. She heard their voices in the darkness of the station:: ((Flashback)) Greyson: No, we were trapped in a turbolift. Ensign Porchevska ascended the shaft in heels and a skirt, so kudos there. I got us out with a tool kit and brute strength. Porchevska: Muscles did a great job. You should have seen him. ::Raissa suddenly felt her stomach drop. Carter and Gabi. They were together. She took a deep breath and let it out. For a moment she really hated her friend.:: ~Raissa~ ::Raissa closed her eyes, not that it made any difference in the darkness:: ~Please… Stop…. ~ Moonsong: :;hiding her physical and emotional pain:: We need to get these people to Medbay…. somehow… ::Then the lights returned and she saw them. Side by side. Then Gabi was holding her arms and pushing her away from Carter and other hands grabbed her:: Porchevska: Over extended empath. ::It was short and sweet:: Get her back to the ship. Dr. Ven will know what to do. Ocana: ::nods:: I’ve got it. =/\= Ocana to Garuda. Two for immediate transport to sickbay. Moonsong: ::frowning and shaking her head. She tried to pull away from the nurse:: No.. wait… I have to keep them calm… ::Her eyes locked on Carter. Almost pleading as she vanished in the swirl of the transporter energy:: ((End Flashback)) ::The memory seemed disjointed and unreal:: Moonsong: ::her eyes sparkled with tears:: Why… why not me….? :: Carter had a seat by her bio bed, and kept his voice low. :: Greyson: I’m not with her. She told me how you felt about me, and I realized we hadn’t spoken since my transfer to engineering. I’m not your patient anymore. I’m in love with you. ::Raissa blinked at him. She was having trouble focusing on his words. But he had such a nice voice:: Moonsong: ::murmurs:: I love your voice… I hear it in my head all the time… ::She frowned slightly:: I’m on drugs I think… You’re in my head… you’re always in my head… Can’t stop thinking about you…. :: He felt the drug-induced haze in a burst of empathy. He’d been there. Under sedation but still conscious as Chythar pried bits of shrapnel from his upper torso shortly after the console exploded. He wanted to reassure her, somehow. :: Greyson: I’ve been there...When the console blew, I was there. Lying on a biobed. Under sedation. Like you. And at that time, I thought my life was over. Now it’s not. We have a chance to be together. :: whispers into her ear :: I love you. ::Most of his words didn’t make sense. Life was over and being together? She blinked at him through tear filled eyes:: Moonsong: ‘Mmm dreaming… ::His face seemed so close. She felt the familiar warmth washed through her under his gaze.:: Carter…. why not me…? :: He took her hand into his, not realizing about the effect it would have on her. Or on him. For a brief moment, their minds linked. His mind was remarkably disciplined, but the recent talk of the exploding console brought that memory to the surface and the aftermath of his own surgery. His body seized for a moment, breathing ragged. As he let go of her hand, he panted softly :: Greyson: I...love you, [...] it... ::Raissa’s eyes were wide with shock. For a moment, while he held her hand her chest was on fire with pain. An echo of trauma that was not hers. Pain that pushed aside the mind numbing effects of the sedative. She wasn’t dreaming. He was there. The reality shook her hard as the pain faded.:: Moonsong: C-Carter…? :: He took a few moments to regain his breath, to get his breathing back under control. Then spoke once more. :: Greyson: Ris...I don’t love Gabi... I love you…. Moonsong: ::She blinked at him owlishly:: You do…? You do… I felt it… saw it… ::Her mouth trembled:: I love you… Greyson: :: he smiled at her. :: When you’re released, we can go get a drink. I’ll break out some Antaran brandy in my quarters and see what happens...what do you say? :: He glanced around, idly curious where Dr. S was. This was his sickbay, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. Then he turned his gaze back to his love to watch her reaction. :: ::Raissa frowned. She could feel his mind. She shouldn’t be able to. “see what happens’ had a number of images involved.:: Moonsong: You’re not a telepath… :: The comment caught him off-guard. Unlike CD, his DNA wasn’t toyed with like a ball of yarn with a bad treatment. But still, that was an odd comment. :: Greyson: What? I mean...no, I’m not...what are you talking about? Moonsong: I see… glimpses… images… from you… Your mind…. ::there was a hint of fear:: Greyson: I don’t get it, hon... Something happened on the mission to trigger...something? :: This was a field he didn’t understand. He wanted to understand it, but didn’t have the faintest idea about telepaths. :: Moonsong: ::She was trying hard to suppress her fear:: Carter… I’m an empath. I sense emotion. I don’t read thoughts. I’m not a telepath. They can connect to me, but not the other way around…. ::she swallowed hard:: Something is wrong with me…. :: Concern crossed the young engineer’s face. He didn’t know what exactly that meant, but had at least a glint of understanding. :: Greyson: Does Dr. Skyfire know about it? :: He glanced around again :: Where is he, anyway? Not like him to leave a patient sedated in sickbay without being around… ::Raissa shook her head. She had some jumbled memories. All starting with an inferno of pain and her name being called. She vaguely remember seeing Skyfire and Dr. Ven arguing with a pretty Orion. Which… really didn’t make sense.:: Moonsong: I… I don’t know… my memory…. It’s jumbled. ::she shakily pushed herself into a seated position:: Greyson: I’ll stay here until one of the docs comes back, alright? We can ask then. Moonsong: You… you don’t have to stay… Greyson: :: He smiled softly. :: I’m staying because I’m in love with you, [...] it. :: Now that she seemed to be in her right mind and not loopy from the drugs, it might stick. :: Moonsong: ::she blushed. She would never tire of hearing him say it. Well, perhaps without the curse on the end of it:: I know… I was just saying… :: Greyson smiled again, his gaze locking with hers. :: Greyson: I love you. Moonsong: ::her voice was quiet:: I love you too…. ===== Lieutenant JG Raissa Moonsong Counselor USS Garuda Ensign Carter Greyson (PNPC) Engineer USS Garuda NCC 73809 Simmed by: Lt. Chythar Skyfire

((Stateroom of Tolas & Ketanya Dajhul, Creshan'na Riyas)) ::Ketanya, despite the opinions of many around her, was not an entirely heartless woman. There she sat, at the table, with the data tablet featuring Tolas’s death certificate. She felt empty. Whilst she may have used Tolas to get into her current position, high above the typical wives of Cardassian officers, she did enjoy spending time with him - regardless of the deluded opinions. He was a peaceful man, didn’t enjoy arguments. Perhaps that was the reason she enjoyed being with him - she always won against him. ::But now, here she was. His death had been unfortunate and could not have been predicted. She was vulnerable, without a plan, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t have tricks up her sleeves.:: ::People could be bought.:: ::The chime to her door sounded, and shortly after, her Cardassian handservant entered her chambers.:: Handservant: Forgive me, madame, but Glinn Noraht is here to see you. ::Ketanya glanced up in time to see the man arrive, laying the tablet back onto the table. Not waiting for permission, he stepped around her “assistant”.:: Noraht: Ahem, Gul, actually. Ketanya: *Gul*? How convenient of dear Legate Demoric. ::He did his best to suppress a smirk. No need to be rude to a lady in mourning.:: ::He gestured for the handservant to leave them before continuing.:: Noraht: When the Union calls for service, I answer. Ketanya: Oh, I’m *sure*. Just stepping up in time of need, doing what’s right for Cardassians everywhere. Save the patriotic speech, Noraht - I have no time for it. Noraht: Hmmph. ::He could see why Dajhul had enjoyed her company. Whatever else he thought of the late Gul and his idealism, that he had been able to successfully court such a woman of fierce mindset had earned him some respect in Noraht’s eyes.:: Noraht: Actually, Madame Dajhul, I’m here to let you know Legate Demoric will not be stopping by. He had important affairs to attend to, I’m sure you understand. Ketanya: Why am I not surprised. Now that Tolas is dead, there’s no reason for Demoric to see me ever again - so he believes. Noraht: ::bows his head slightly:: I am just a simple soldier, madame. I will leave the politics to you and your ilk. Ketanya: Soldier. ::She scoffed.:: You’ve never known the meaning of the word. Tolas took you by the hand and assisted you to get where you are - as soon as he died, you of course, were *quite* happy to take his place. ::He didn’t have to take her abuse anymore. She wasn’t the wife of a Gul anymore. But, staying polite would only infuriate her more, he knew, and so that’s what he did to enjoy the moment.:: Noraht: I understand how difficult a time this must be for you. I will ensure your transportation back to Cardassia along with the gul’s body is reflective of the respect owed to you and him for your service to the State. Ketanya: Unfortunately for you, *Gul*, I have made no plans to leave the station. And until those responsible for the death of my husband are found, decapitated and torched, I have no plans of the such. Because of my husband’s sacrifice, the Union, by my understanding, should allow compensation. It is my right, and would have been my husbands wish, that I remain here, assist with Cardassian efforts. ::Noraht’s smile dropped as he realized what she was doing. Public service was integral to Cardassian society, and military service in particular was revered. Typically, the widows and families of those who had fallen in battle were compensated well, but more importantly, they were granted with a high amount of vesala -- social currency. Thus, it would be difficult, if not outright improper for Noraht to refuse her request.:: Ketanya: Starfleet has willingly agreed for me to remain here, allowed me to keep their personnel assigned to me. The Union, however, has little choice in the matter. Or must I take the matter to someone of a higher stature and intelligence? ::It took a moment for him to gather his words.:: Noraht: I’m sorry, madame. I was under the impression you were not particularly fond of your placement here. Ketanya: Never assume. If anything, I’m growing quite fond of the place. Noraht: ::through gritted teeth:: How nice to hear. ::beat:: Well, perhaps I should give you a few days to think it over- Ketanya: Oh, that won’t be necessary. Soon my Starfleet assistant will be back on duty, and I will have everything I need - provided that my current situation doesn’t change. I will, however, be sure to contact you should I require . . . *anything*. ::There she was. Playing cards back in hand. It was only a matter of time before she was indeed back on top of her situation.:: Noraht: Of course, madame. If you’ll excuse me, I have station business to attend to. Ketanya: We’ll keep in touch. ::The man didn’t answer as he turned to leave. He simply shoved the handservant aside as he exited.:: ::Noraht was a bad decision made by Tolas at a time of weakness. As he walked out, she made the decision - the station could not remain under the partial command of an unpredictable Cardassian. She needed to contact an old friend.:: ::Noraht needed to be eliminated.:: --- Ketanya Dajhul Widow of Gul Tolas Dajhul & Gul Noraht Co-Commanding Officer, Creshan'na Riyas Simmed LtCmdr Bakari & LtCmdr Core USS Garuda

((Dreamscape/hullucination/they're not sure yet)) ::It was a counselling suite.:: ::Kinan had been one of them before, many times, for psych evals. She had felt that they wasted her time, but she answered the questions, explained her feelings, passed the evaluations with positive colours.:: ::She wasn't aware if this was reality, or if this was some form of dream. The woman in front of her had a teal uniform, the look you normally got from an expectant counsellor, waiting for your response, silently determining the mental stability of you. Kinan raised an eyebrow.:: Ari: Hello. Akyra: Hello. You must be Ari Kinan. ::Lieutenant JG Counsellor had apparently heard of her. Kinan looked the other female Trill up and down, taking as much of her appearance in as possible. Light brown hair falling just above her shoulders, black eyes and a tanned complexion, featuring darker Trill spots. She seemed . . . mature. Experienced. And safe.:: Ari: I am. ::Kinan nodded.:: I just go by my last name. Akyra: Not a fan of your first? Ari:::she shrugged:: I just prefer my last name. ::The woman nodded.:: Ari: I didn't catch your name? Akyra: Akyra Sentoss. I'm the second host of the Venroe symbiont. ::So that's what was going on. This wasn't real at all - just some weird dream her mind had cooked up to probably help with all the memories that had just been dumped into her system. Previous host personalities talking to current hosts were a surprisingly common thing.:: Ari: Oh. ::She nodded slowly.:: You're the one before me - the one- Akyra: Dying well before her time? Yeah. I was worse than Ethan, actually. If we keep this up, someone might turn around and say that the symbiont is cursed. ::She laughed once.:: Ethan: Don't scare the newbie, Akyra. ::The male pretty much appeared out of nowhere, also in a Starfleet uniform (was this what this symbiont was? Starfleet exclusive?) with a gold collar. He smiled and stuck his hand out to Kinan.:: Ethan: Nice to meet you - I'm Ethan Ocal. ::It was only logical to assume that Ethan was the very first Venroe host. Kinan shook his hand.:: Ari: Ari Kinan. ::pause:: She said that she was "worse" than you? Ethan: Death by pirate attack, age 43. Ari: *Pirate attack*? Ethan: Long story short; Security officer aboard a severely damaged Sovereign class ship, were attacked by pirates, shot in the back, lights out. ::Kinan frowned.:: Ari: A bit silly to be a host and a Starfleet Security officer, don't you think? Ethan: You have no idea how many times I was told that when I was alive . . . Ari: Why didn't you just avoid Security? Ethan: Because I'm a protector. I defend. I can problem solve, sure, but my strong point isn't sitting down and staring at people - no offense, Akyra - nor is it administrative duties. I don't have the patience for anything Engineering, nor do I have the mindset. And . . . my piloting skills are pretty bad. So I did what I did best - protect my crew. Ari: And you did that until the day you died. Ethan:::with a sigh.:: We've got a lot to talk about. ::Kinan didn't know how much time had passed, if there was time at all. She'd learnt a lot, though, just by talking to both these people.:: ::Ethan had been somewhat of a rebellious Trill in his childhood. Somehow and somewhere along the line of his life, he'd been given a "brand new" symbiont, having shown promise in the eyes of those in charge of them. And then he turned around, left Trill and joined Starfleet, despite the outrage of those he'd left behind - including that of his parents. He trained as a Security officer, graduated and was then posted to a ship, as per usual. At some point, he'd gotten an extreme distaste for Marines, and involved himself in various romantic flings. But he eventually married an El-Aurian woman, and to this day, still doesn't know how old she actually is. He was constantly contacted by the commission about his symbiont and how he had been reckless and that he (and his captain) were "required" to allow a potential host aboard his ship in case of an emergency. This hadn't happened. ::What *did* happen, however, was the agreement that he would find a replacement host (in case of this emergency), but it would be on his terms and the host wouldn't be placed aboard the ship. Out of a class of potential hosts, he'd picked Akyra - mainly due to her unenthusiastic response to counsellors, course work, and overall anything uninteresting whatsoever (and yet somehow, she'd been accepted into the program. Weird.). She was an aspiring technician, and though she was very capable at what she did, she acknowledged that she wasn't the best of the best - not even close, apparently. Her mother worked full time as an administration manager for a company on Trill, while her father took care of her brother Meeka, of whom had a severe case of anterograde amnesia after a severe brain injury, a condition still untreatable on Trill:: ::Ethan had spent two weeks talking up Starfleet and the Venroe symbiont to Akyra, and though she was somewhat skeptical of him, she agreed to take the symbiont when required to. This had happened two years after they met - in the pirate incident Ethan had mentioned earlier. The symbiont was transferred to Akyra the next day.:: ::With a newfound patience and experience from Ethan, Akyra abandond her career entirely and chose to explore the counselling position. She claimed that the main reason behind this was due to the significant decline of mental health in the Security department whilst Ethan was still alive. By the time she'd graduated and was posted to the USS Avandar, she'd found that Security officers were normally not at all open people and struggled to assist. Akyra had spent barely a day on the Avandar before it had "crashed" into a planet by the name of Eden - she then lived a further "ten years" on Eden with her partner Alleran Tan and had two children before a supposed symbiont rejection. It later turned out that the entire thing wasn't real and was just a dream - Akyra hadn't remembered the specific details. ::Regardless, a rejection like that in the dream could occur in real life as well. When she was transferred to a different ship, her first trip to medical revealed that her isoboramine levels had indeed dropped, but only minorly. This would continue for a long time, and though she had a handle on it for a few months, it just kept happening. ::This, now, was the result of that.:: ::It was strange to meet two hosts that had had a high amount of contact between them - actually, it was strange to meet a host of whom had been hand picked by the symbionts previous. She felt as if she were imposing, that Kira should have been allowed the same choice as Ethan had.:: Akyra: So what about you? What's your story? Ari: Me? I'm an aide-de-camp. I've been a personal assistant, a diplomat, a liaison and a Personnel officer. I've been in Starfleet for ten years, not including the Academy. Ethan: The hostage situation on the USS Fox with the Iotians - that was you? ::She nodded.:: Ari: Yes, sir, 2383. Akyra:::with a slight laugh:: Care to share for the rest of the class? Ari: Fox was called to a recently colonized planet a couple of years back. We got there, did what we had to do, and then when we return to the ship, the coloney is attacked by a rogue group of Iotians, and the colony's "leaders" had been taken hostage. The Iotians demanded a shuttle off the planet, supplies and weapons in exchange for the safety of the civilians, but obviously, weapons and a ships shuttle wasn't something my Captain was willing to provide. Akyra: So what'd you do? Ari: They had one of their group talk to me. I found out that these guys weren't from their home planet - they were from a nearby planet that was suffering from a supply shortage. They'd been requesting help from the Federation for months without results, so they'd resorted to more violent means, believing they could take some of the supplies from this newest colony. So, we were able to come to the agreement that they would release the hostages on the terms that we would arrange transport and fresh supplies for them to take back to their planet. A small ship with supplies finally showed up, the hostages were released without casualties, and we escorted them back to their planet. Ethan: Were they charged? Ari: Those terms were also negotiated. Instead of the group of eight being taken into custody, the leader put himself forward to us, stating that he and he alone was responsible for the actions that had been taken. He was arrested and charged, the rest of his group remained on their planet. Akyra: I'm sure that must have been quite the achievement. Ari: It was. I'm still struggling with understanding how it'd gone so smoothly. ::There was a pause of silence between them, and Kinan looked down at her knees.:: Ari: So how does this go? I wake up, you two in my head, no idea who I really am anymore? Watch as I struggle to continue doing my job until I give into your memories and experiences and change my career at a moments notice? ::She glanced back up at the two Trill in front of her. Ethan crossed his arms, actually sitting down for the first time on Akyra's armrest.:: Akyra: It'll be disorientating at times, sure. But you're strong minded. Ari: That's supposed to mean anything when it comes to a joining? Ethan: It means that we think you can handle it. ::Her vision flickered without warning, and Kinan sat up straight.:: Ari: Is this it? Akyra: Seems like it. ::She paused.:: You're going to wake up. You're going to be fine. Medical is going to clear you in a day or two, order you to take counselling appointments to adjust to the new memories. It'll be a shock at first, sure, but you'll work through it. We have faith in you. ::And just like that, after Akyra's words, Kinan's vision faded.:: ::She awoke in the bright Sick Bay.:: Tbc . . . PNPC Lt Ari (Kinan) Venroe Aide-de-camp Deep Space 10 Simmed by LtCmdr Tristam Core USS Garuda

(( USS Victory )) ::Lara was content, or as content as an extension of the ship's main computer could be. Ever since the ship docked at Starbase Echo, the turbolift felt gratification for every member of the crew it moved from one deck to another. Even better was the possibility of much needed maintenance. Though her subprocessers would never report it to the main computer, Lara sometimes felt the neglect of being one of the systems that worked all the time, but was often overlooked.:: Lara: Humm... ::Moving from deck to deck, the somewhat newer system made background noise so as to bring comfort to those who had stepped inside of her confines. Her sensors were more than adequate as to sense the state of her passengers and she adjusted accordingly. If they were tense, the hum she produced would be soothing. Should they be tired, her hum would be more high pitched as she tried to portray a sense of urgency.:: Lara: Humph... ::Of course, most of the time, the crew had no idea why there was humming in the elevator. It certainly wasn't part of the design specs. There were plenty of fixes to try to remedy the sound, but Lara always retained a backup in a separate cluster removed from the system as to retain the information. Although computational speed was limited, she felt that this personal touch was the core of her subprocessing matrix. She figured that the crew considered her system was the only one that needed to be "fixed." Rarely did they complain when the warp core propelled the ship faster due to self-automated optimization. What made things worse was the fact that Lara knew that the warp core was a selfish....:: ::ERROR 3A8D6: VOCABULARY NOT FOUND:: ::... which is why she made little attempt to communicate with the other subsystems. Of course, every so many cycles she would report in to the main computer, but there was little outside communication beyond that.:: Lara: Humm? ::Being as she was just an extension of the ship's main core, the lower entity rarely took note of the crew outside of her confined area. However, there was a human male that stood outside of deck 8 that appeared ready to be escorted, but remained rather motionless.:: Lara: Hmm! ::For a few cycles, Lara attempted to escort the crewmember by opening the door, but in doing so only managed to tense up the cadet. About to give up in one more cycle, her sensors picked up another crewmember who apparently managed to finally get her cargo to finally enter her domain.:: Lara: Hmm... ::Reading that the male had become more nervous, she attempted a very soothing hum as she transported the two to the bridge. A rather popular destination, should her memory banks serve correctly.:: Lara: Hmm.... ::But her systems were not that complicated, and her experiences were soon to be overwritten with new ones. In a few minutes, she would only have the logs indicating that an "ENSIGN ASHLEY ROY" and "ENSIGN NICK STAHL" were transported from deck 8 to the bridge. She did not mind, or rather she couldn't. Lara loved herself as a subsystem, and would always retain that joy until she was programmed otherwise.:: Lara: Hmm.... ::She was content.:: QUERY(SYSTEM COMPLETION?)SYSTEM.PRINT.OUT(END?)EXECUTE(HEISENBERG UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE)......SYSTEM.PRINT.OUT(UNKNOWN) LaraTurbolift As Simmed By... Ensign Ashley RoyMedical OfficerUSS Victory

((Ensign T'Brei's Quarters-Atlantis)) T'BREI: :: Finished her meal and worked some more on the research progress, and schematics of the workings for the upgraded prosthetic s with the Inter-Species Medial Group R & D section. She, braided her hair and wrapped it around her head, pinning it into place, the rest of her hair she pulled into a ponytail and then rolled it under and pinned it into a loose chignon. Donning a fresh uniform, she picked up her work and made her way out of her quarters for sickbay. ((Sickbay Atlantis)) It was late, and most of the crew were asleep. She wanted to check her research unencumbered by the EMH or a lot of activity, patients were sleeping and the nurse was at her duty station and the Sickbay was on night lights running. She slipped into her area and sat down to look over the samples of Trans- molecularity dna re sequenced prosthetic implants. :: oOo Now to run another set of trials tomorrow, and gather more data.oOo T'BREI: ::Went to her research trials and put the finished ones back into the vault drawer, she pulled out fresh samples and programmed them with a slightly different coding and put them in the incubation system. She logged them as non-lethal experiment but do not open. And then made her way back through the wards. She noticed a sting in her head slight but definitely the tale tale signs of a headache. She went to the nearest bio bed and pulled out an analgesic giving herself a low dose. She, made a notation in her own medical chart and then checked all the notes. :: Nurse informed her that Sickbay was quiet and no patients. T'BREI: Very good Nurse, I shall return to my quarters and remain their for a couple of hours, unless there arises an emergency and I am needed. NURSE: Very good Doctor T'Brei, take care of that headache. T'BREI: I shall, I am going to lie down for a while in a dark room. ::She departed sickbay and returned to her quarters, and this time she set her work aside and went to her bed, slipping off her boots, she slide out of her uniform and pulled on a pale pink gown, and a matching robe. She pulled back the coverlet and lay down with an iced pack on her head. Soon, she drifted off to sleep. The scene unfolded as it did most nights after she had worked on research for the amputees; the undisclosed planet name dark knee deep in mud and blood, wadding through body parts and hearing the cries of the wounded calling out for help for those to weak to cry out the dying. She walks on wards to get the blood and platelet paks to the CHIEF of the make shift MASH. Soval handed her another case, it was a amputee both arms and legs, the N'toklan barely alive and she was to stabilize him and get him out on the next Medi-vac-Shuttle. The N'toklan looked up at her and whispered.:: Let meeee die..... Iii do not want to live like this..... his lips fell completely open his vital signs dropped, the CMO heard the alarm and took over. He brought the N'toklan back and the shuttle arrived and he was lifted away to the Comfort. :: ((Comfort- covert ops blackout mission)) T'BREI: ::Struggled in her sleep, the pain in her head more violent now, as she walked back down the corridors of the Comfort, and saw the N'toklan again. The Top Notch Medical team and scientists were working to stimulate his genes using a highly classified and rare procedure to regrow his limbs. His screams echoed through the ward, he called out to his Gods and cursed the doctors who had kept him alive, his eyes settled on T'Brei. His newly regenerated arm and hand reached out and grasped her hand.:: You understand, you know why I wanted to go on and be with my soul. T'Brei moved closer to him and said. How can we bring you and your soul together again? He pointed to a necklace around his neck, it had the sign of a priest on it. There were no N'toklan priests onboard so T'Brie found a Vulcan Priest. She and the Priest worked with the man for hours, until he and his soul were reunited.:: T'BREI: :: Woke with a gasp, her head truly pounding now. She went to the bath room and washed her face off, and took out another coldpak and placed it on her head. Lying back down she mediated, letting her heart rate lower and lower so low that even sensors could not detect it. She knew that there on that dark and deep mission, she had been given a mission to do what ever was possible to assist and help survivors put the puzzle of their lives back together again...:: Ensign T'BreiMedical OfficerUSS AtlantisNCC 74682

((Transporter Room 1, Adjacent to Bridge, USS Apollo )) ::The faint, dizzy lurching sensation that Torrin was not sure he would ever grow accustomed to faded quicky, and he materialzed. As his senses returned to him, he saw standing in front of him a human-looking man with short neat dark hair, a clean shaven face, and the uniform of ....:: oO An admiral? Where am I?! Oo :: The man looked with what Torrin could only interpret as disapproval at his state of undress. He was suddenly incredibly self conscious and entirely horrified and humiliated, the realization dawning on him that there had been some kind of mix-up, and right now his husband was meeting with a confused civilian welcome wagon somewhere on the lower decks while he was making their first impression on the commanding officer. He vowed, if he ever saw that little scarecrow again, to murder the boy in coldest of blood.:: :: Chandni Kapoor watched Jaxx turn to look at the man, apparently just as surprised. Since she had sent the coordinates to the shuttle she wanted to make sure that everything was in order and got up, stepping a bit closer, as she crossed the bridge. :: Jaxx: Admiral Andrus Jaxx, commanding officer of the Apollo. And you are? Torrin: I... I am Professor Avaris Edral Torrin sir, I apologies for my appearance sir, we had some trouble with the life support on our runabout, and I was not prepared to be meeting you today... ::The admiral shrugged slightly in a gesture that seemed to say "don't worry about it", but Torrin still clutched the ends of his open dress shirt pulling them close together, wishing he had been wearing some kind of large cloak that he could hide behind completely. The Admiral continued :: Jaxx: Welcome to the Apollo. What is your function aboard the ship? :: Hearing the name Chandni sighed. Of course, that bored - most likely - teenager had mixed up the coordinates, what a surprise. In case the Admiral wanted to know what happened she wanted to be there to explain and approached further, stopping just a few steps behind him. :: Torrin: I apologise Admiral, there must have been a mix up with our transporters, my husband was supposed to report to you, he was recently assigned to the Apollo as a security officer. I am here along with him. ::The admiral looked at him expectantly, as though he expected Torrin to say more :: Torrin: ... as for my function personally on board this ship, I have some ideas about what I would like to do, but I doubt that civilian job postings are the responsibility of an Admiral sir. Neither is providing directions to lost and disheveled new arrivals, but may I impose upon you to point me in the direction of the family quarters? I would like to get.... appropriately dressed before we meet again, if I can avoid dying of humiliation between now and then. :: The commanding officer smiled slightly, and turned to a beautiful tan-skinned woman with long dark hair who was standing slightly behind him:: Jaxx: Ensign Kapoor, can you get him where he needs to be? :: She was not surprised that he knew that she was here. Even if he had not seen her, she thought that he most likely sensed her. Just like her boys sensed when she was around. :: Kapoor: Of course, Sir. ::She gave Jaxx a smile before turning to the other man.:: Please, come with me, Professor. Torrin: oO Well, if that wasn't the greatest first impression, it was at least ... memorable. Artem is going to kill me Oo Thank you. :: Torrin nodded to the Admiral (who he could swear was suppressing a smirk) to the turbolift, which in another twist of humiliating fate, meant leaving the small transporter alcove and being briefly visible to the entire crew present on the bridge. A few of them looked up at him, but whatever was going on in their day was clearly more engaging than the arrival of a disheveled tattooed barbarian claiming to be a professor. Avaris was particularly taken by the image of a fair haired Vulcan woman (no... there was a shadow of forehead ridges, part Romulan probably) who didn't even make eye contact with him, being too engaged in frantic whispers with another crew member and looking as though she might burst into tears at any moment.:: Torrin: oO Whatever they are dealing with must be pretty stressful for my appearance to barely register as unusual. Either that or this crew has seen its share of unusual things. Maybe both. Oo :: Chandni walked with him to the lift and with the luck they had the doors opened right away so they could step in. She waited until the doors closed behind them. :: Kapoor: Deck 38. :: The lift began to sail downward. The ease with which Torrin usually schmoozed with strangers had briefly left him, but she broke the silence first, as he was just beginning to panic about what he should say to start a conversation. :: Kapoor: ::She looked to the Trill.:: I saw in the database that you are coming with your husband? Torrin: Yes, Ensign Dragumov. He just graduated from the academy, this is his first posting as a security officer, I am ... proud of him. oO Yes Torrin... "proud" is a word... Oo Kapoor: ::smiling:: It's nice that you follow him here, long distance is hard when it is not limited to the same planet but the galaxy. Torrin: Yes. I don't think I could go back to that. We met just as the War was beginning, I was still in school on Trill at the time. We did the long-distance thing for 13 years, when I finally graduated and he started his academy training, I think we got married mostly to ensure I COULD follow him on his first assignment, we were so tired of the way it had been. Are you married ? Kapoor: No, not married. But I got two kids, twins and my boyfriend is on board. ::Chuckling:: It sounds silly at this age. ::Torrin smiled broadly at her. He loved talking to people about their kids, and had found being an elementary teacher back on earth surprisingly rewarding.:: Torrin: Twins! How lovely, that is considered very lucky on my world, one of the quirks of our evolutionary background means that they are even rarer for us than for you Humans. And its not silly, not at all! Trust me, this is when life gets good, nobody could pay me to be young again, there is not enough latinum in the universe. ::She looked at him quizzically. He had simply meant that he was approaching 40, but he realized his choice of words might have given her the wrong impression, given just how relative age was to some of his people. She seemed to want to ask just how old he was, relatively speaking, but seemed unsure if there was a polite way to ask. He decided to spare her the embarrassment of trying, at least someone deserved to have themselves spared embarrassment today.:: Torrin: 'Torrin' is a family name, not a symbiont... I am 38 in-case you wanted to ask, but if anybody else asks I'm 29 okay? ::He winked at her in a way he hoped came off as "fun" and not "creepy and gross"... she knew he had a husband, so he gambled that she would know he was not trying to being a leech. It went over well and she smiled prettily up at him:: Kapoor: ::grinning up to him:: So, Professor, what are going to do on board? I don't get the feeling that you are the type to just sit in the quarters all day. Torrin: Well I still do research for my Alma Mater, I am currently writing about convergent evolution for the Xenobiology department, I hope that I will have a chance to do some field research while travelling with the Apollo. Aside from that, I don't know. Are there a lot of civilians on board? Kapoor: Oh yes we have many civilians. Some of them work in the departments in areas that are available to them, others have their own field of work, like our Botanist, the Bar-owner - if he ever opens that bar - or the kindergarten teacher. I'm sure that we can find something for you, there are a lot of possibilities on board. Torrin: Well I have been teaching elementary school for the last four years while Artem was a the academy, do you know how many children are onboard? Are their parents teaching them or is there a school? Perhaps I will drop in with a resume after I get my quarters settled. Kapoor: You have? Ooh, adbhut.. sorry wonderful. We do have a a bunch of children, I cannot give you an exact number without accessing the database. We did had a teacher on the Apollo before this one, but he went back to Earth. Mark O'Donnal is taking care of the children in day care. I'd suggest to talk with him, I can imagine that he would be thankful for some help. Torrin: Thank you, I'll do that. ((Deck 38)) :: Chandni smiled to him and as the doors of the lift opened she let him go first and stepped out after. It was bustling with life and chatter. Here and tere was an officer, most likely the spouse of a civilian, who rushed past them. It was different here than on other parts of the ship. The other hallways were order and work oriented, people made sure not to be in the way and with swift steps went from destination A to B. Here it was like in the alley in a village, most people walking without aim, strolling and suddenly changing directions, standing in the middle of the way for a chat. :: ::The computer announced their arrival on the family deck, and he stepped out of the turbolift into a large, busy hallway. Torrin had no idea that there were quite so many other civilians on board, it was a pleasant surprise to think that he might avoid too much interacting with officers and not have to be too lonely about it. Although so far the officers he had met had all seemed alright... for Starfleet. :: :: The OPS officer was genial and personable, and Torrin was greatly enjoying the brief moment of sanity in an otherwise strange and distressing evening. They had been discussing civilian life onboard the Apollo, and she was proving wonderfully inclined to helpfulness :: Torrin: Is there anything else I should know? Kapoor: Ah yes, since you are new on board you will have to be checked out in sick bay. ::It was not as urgent as with an officer who had to get to duty, but they also could bring anything on board. :: Your luggage should be in your quarters and if you need anything, just let me or someone else in OPS know. ::Torrin's heart sank, but he had known that a medical examination would be in order. He just really did not want to think about it right now, his first priority was to take an extravagantly long solar shower, followed by changing into some clean clothes, followed by at least six other things he had yet to think of before finally relenting and going to the doctors.:: :: Just as he was about to say goodbye to her, an extravagantly dressed, and incredibly loud foppish and ridiculous man with perfectly coiffed pink hair stopped dead in his tracks, looked Torrin up and down, his eyes darting from one ugly aggressive tattoo, to his undershirt, to another ugly aggressive tattoo, to his haphazardly tied up mane of hair, and upon taking it all in, screamed in seemingly genuine horror. :: :: With an abrupt halt the baby blue eyes of the pink haired hologram wandered briefly over the woman, in her terrifying uniform, but stunning long black hair and tanned skin but then remained for a bit longer on the man besides her. That guy was a whole fashion disaster. The only thing that was going well for him were the spots running from his hairline down to his feet. :: Georgio: ::shaking his head he put one hand on his cheek with a distressed expression on his face. :: Oh honey, no. Loreyn Gates or Zumo Hynes can pull ... ::his hand moved from his face and circled the whole man::.. that off but no... ::he scrunched his nose and shook his head:: ... you really need to get out of that and into something ... anything but that! :: Chandni stared at the pink haired man and was so startled by that, that she slipped into her native tongue, and then into a thick Indian accent as she caught herself. :: Kapoor: ::mumbling:: Gaand maraa. ::Shaking her head she looked up to Torrin, who seemed to be rather confused:: Eye dun' know eether :: Torrin looked uncertainly at the pink haired man, and finding himself entirely unprepared to engage with him, turned back to Kapoor.:: Torrin: Okay... well thank you for everything. I hope to be less of a disaster next time we meet. Kapoor: You're fine. Welcome aboard again Professor. :: She smiled reassuringly, and gave him a polite nod before going back to the turbolift. He turned away and walked purposefully across the hall, ignoring the pink haired man as he strode past him towards the quarters assigned to Artem and himself. He heard the strange man calling after him, but was far too exhausted to deal with him. :: Georgio: Wait sweety, you clearly need my help. :: Chandni looked over her shoulder, to see that he had slipped into the Professor's quarters and shook her head. For a moment she thought about going back to ask if he needed help, but then decided against that. She was pretty sure that he was capable to do that himself. So she stepped back into the lift and headed to the bridge. :: (( Quarters Torrin/Dragumov )) :: The doors to the quarters whooshed open, and Torrin sighed heavily, hearing them close behind him and being thankful for a moment of peace. He surveyed the modest room, which apart from some basic furniture was entirely empty. :: ::Before the doors could close, Georgio slipped through them and into the quarters, that were just as boring as the rest of the ship. All this grey and Starfleet blue, they needed a decorator. His eyes wandered from the room to the shoulder of the Trill. :: Georgio: Whoever told you that these tats suit you, was a liar, sweetcheeks. :Torrin whipped around startled. The pink-haired man was standing in his doorway, either unaware that it was generally considered inappropriate to enter a persons quarters uninvited, or (as Torrin considered to be more likely) completely unable to fathom that anybody may not be delighted by his presence. He was exhausted and his temper was never easy for him to control, he nearly roared at the little man:: :: Georgio blinked when the man suddenly jumped around and stared at him. Well Georgio was used to stares, who could not stare at this fabulousness? It looked as if he wanted to say something so the pink haired man waited. :: Torrin: What are you doing in my quarters?! Georgio: ::Waving his index finger in front of the tall man's face and spoke in a singing voice. :: Na na na, no reason to raise our voice. I'm here to help you of course. These ... ::He encircled the tattoos with his finger.:: ... fashion statements will have to be corrected if you want people to not look away when they talk to you, dear. ::The little man spoke as though Torrin had casually asked him what the weather was like on Andor this time of year. Torrin was used to his 'teacher voice' commanding fear, but something seemed to have erased this man's capacity for understanding social signals :: Torrin: They are not a fashion statement, they have meaning to me. Georgio: ::Sighing dramatically, he begin to circle around the Trill, checking him all over.:: Well I don't agree that something this ugly can have meaning but whatever. Then we at least change this nest of hair. Torrin: My hair has meaning to me too. Georgio: Honey, did nobody ever tell you that "has meaning to me" does not mean the same as "is hideous"? :: He finished the assessment round and came to a halt in front of the tall man, looking up. :: ::Torrin decided a change in tact might rid him of the strange little creature, and leaned in close, lowering his voice to a menacing whisper :: Torrin: I earned half of my tattoos in space while serving on an Orion pirate ship. See this one? It means I killed a human captain with my bare hands. The other half came from the maximum security penal colony I just got out of. See this one? Its the symbol of the prison gang I was in. I had to do some terrible things to survive in there, some truly terrible, and quite violent things. I am a dangerous man, you had better run while you can little one. Georgio: :: The Pink haired man smiled widely at the Trill and reached out, patting the man's cheek. :: You're cute when you are trying to intimidate me. ::Torrin threw his hands up in the air. He thought he had been convincing enough. Maybe he had been, and the issue was that this man was as incapable of feeling afraid as we was incapable of understanding that following someone into their quarters to tell them that they looked like a mess was not appropriate. Apparently nothing was going to shake the determined fop :: Torrin: Listen, I promise I do know how to dress myself alright? I promise I wont leave these quarters until I am presentable. :: Georgio: Leave that judgement to the pros, sweetcheeks. Torrin: Now you are just being rude. Georgio: ::waving dismissively:: Just honest, darling. I'll wait, you get ready. Torrin: I just arrived! I haven't had a chance to even shower let alone decorate my quarters. Georgio: Oh decorating, how exciting. Let Georgio do that for you and it will be fabulous. :: Excitedly he clapped into his hands, bouncing up and down, but then realized that something was not right about that plan. :: But... ::He stopped bouncing and made an all including gesture.:: ... to decorate, you first need decoration. Where is it? Torrin: 'Georgio' eh? Well listen up Georgio. All I want is to get washed up, changed into something not soaked through with sweat, and maybe even relax for a few hours. If you ..... ::But what Georgio had said sunk in as he was talking. His quarters truly were empty. They were not simply missing some homey decoration, or in need of some domestic love, they were missing something else. They were missing all of Avaris and Artems' belongings:: Torrin: actually you seem to have a point mister Georgio. I seem to be missing my ... everything. Georgio: Well, you are not missing me, sweetie. That counts for a lot ::smiling widely.:: ::Torrin responded pointedly in an increasingly half-hearted attempt to shake loose of the strange little creature :: Torrin: Yes, the difference is my belongings are supposed to be here. Georgio: ::Again he waved his hand dismissively:: Avaris, sweetie.. same difference. ::He raised on his foot and pushed himself a little with the other, to turn on his toes like a dancer before he put both feet back on the carpet:: So, where did you hide your things? Torrin: I wish I knew mister Georgio. I hadn't thought to hide my belongings, but someone else seems to have helpfully taken it upon themselves to hide them on my behalf. ::The Trill sat down heavily and rather dramatically onto one of the two standard chairs in the quarters main room:: Georgio: ::gasping theatrically:: Oh dear, that is horrible. ::But the next moment he caught himself again and grinned.:: Ah, I have the solution. Of course I do, I am the genius Georgio. ::Torrin was holding his head in his hands, acquiescing to the apparent inescapable truth that this Georgio was not going anywhere :: Torrin: Oh good, I wait with bated breath and whispering humbleness. :: Georgio looked at him as though he had just started barking instead of using actual words:: Torrin: … its Shakespeare. You look human, and seem… theatrical, don't you know Shakespeare? Georgio: ::With quick dancing steps he hurried to the replicator in the wall, raising both his arms towards it like a showgirl pointing out the big prize, completely dismissing the Shakes-whoever comment.:: Tadaaaa, what's your size darling. I'll get you something really nice. It won't be like the real deal, but better than ::waving his hand towards the man:: that. :: As soon as Torrin had seen his luggage was missing, he had feared that he might have to do this. Avaris' physical baggage was missing, but he was never too far from the emotional baggage he carried with him. He had found ways to work around it most of the time, but it manifested in strange and often seemingly nonsensical ways. His mostly-irrational fear of replicated clothing was one of those ways. :: Torrin: Please no. I … I try to avoid wearing replicated clothing actually. Georgio: What? ::smiling widely:: Well that is so much better, not all hope is lost. At least you know to cherish what is good. ::Torrin could not help himself but smile slightly at the misunderstanding. The man clearly thought he was a snob about replicated clothing when the truth was so far from that. He thought back to Irazina and Paxan's trial, sitting in the wings watching the prosecutor parading the conspiracy evidence for the impassive Vulcan Federation judge, and in front of the crowded room. The horror and rage he had felt as the trial revealed the true extent of the Starfleet Intelligence and TSIS surveillance of their little group. :: :: They had been too bold and not suspicious enough, they did not think that they were interesting enough to warrant such invasion of their privacy. They had not yet realized just how important placid unquestioning acceptance of the status quo was to the government of Trill, and to their puppet masters in the Commission and Federation. They had no idea that undercover agents had been their friends, room-mates, fellow organizers and even lovers for the past two years.:: :: And they had not counted on the deviousness and ingenuity of tampering with their local replimat to embed low level proton radiation particles in the clothing they ordered, in order to more easily track their movements. This last, [...]ing piece of evidence had punched a starship-sized hole in his friends otherwise meticulously constructed alibis, and had added the charge of perjury to their already very serious charge of conspiracy. Irazina and Paxan had served 5 years in a Federation penal colony. :: :: And it could have been any of them. They were all sloppy. Avaris and the rest of them had just been extremely lucky, and Avaris had, even now when his movements, were they being monitored, would not be considered particularly interesting, refused to ever trust replicated clothing again. :: Georgio: Then we have only one way to solve this horrifying dilemma. ::Torrin snapped out of his daydream, back away from his depressing past into his increasingly depressing present, too exhausted to argue with this Georgio and just accepting that his day was not going to stop being surprising and uncomfortable.:: Torrin: And what would that be, oh genius? Georgio: Finding your things of course, silly. ::He grinned and in a rather feminine posture of his legs, one leg pulled up slightly in a bend he stretched his arms in a 12 and 3 position waving his jazzhands, as he melodiously raised his voice again. :: Roooooooad triiiiiiip. :: Torrin closed his eyes, steeling himself and taking a deep breath. :: Torrin: Okay. But first may I have your permission to take a quick shower? Georgio: ::grinning he waved dismissively with his hand:: You may, off you go. Torrin: How magnanimous of you. :: Georgio curtsied and dropped himself on the couch, crossed his legs and leaned back, waiting for the Trill to get ready. :: ((Hallway, Apollo Deck 38 )) ::Torrins appearance and mood was improved slightly after his solar shower. He had brought his clothes in with him, which was not an ideal way to launder clothes but was better than nothing, and having rolled down his pants and done up his shirt, and tied his hair back a little more neatly, he felt slightly if not wholly more respectable. He was, in spite of himself, enjoying following Georgio through the sea of people, slightly behind him and observing the reactions he elicited as he gracefully swanned around aimlessly, stopping occasionally to point out any flaw he perceived in the way somebody was dressed. Torrin was not sure how this strategy was conducive to finding his luggage, but reluctantly admitted that he was sort of enjoying himself.:: :: As every road trip had to be, this one was fun as well. Georgio met a lot of people and got to help them with some fashion and hairstyling advice. Here and there he even did the good deed of offering make overs. All over it was a success and he felt great for helping so many unfortunate people. :: ::Torrin noticed that whatever the little man said, people tended to be too shocked to respond to him, leaving him free to waltz over to the next person he saw desperately in need of style advice. Torrin occasionally saw anger in peoples expression, but Georgio critiques were like being struck by lightning on a cloudless sunny day, it was fast, unexpected, and he was gone too quickly to really respond.:: :: Georgio just spotted a green skinned woman with bulky clothing, a ponytail that came out of the back of a cap and who was talking with someone over the comm. But since the other person was talking right now he saw his chance and stepped closer.:: Georgio: Sweetie, you obviously need my help. These clothes are way too masculine for your pretty frame. :: She did not even look at him, not a single word came from her towards him, but he felt the extended arm hit his chest and push him aside before she stomped away still talking to the other person, though he did not really listen to what she said, it was not important anyway. He landed against a wall and slid down onto his butt. :: ::Torrin missed exactly what it was Georgio had said to her, but without a second of hesitation, she snarled and violently shoved him out of the way. Torrin felt inexplicably responsible for the strange little man, in spite of the fact that the strange little man seemed to be in charge of this road trip, and ran up to him. :: Torrin: Georgio! Are you alright? ::Georgio seemed not only to be alright, but also to not be in any way, physically or emotionally, affected by what had just happened :: :: The pink haired man laughed and without any problems got up to his feet again, looking after the hurricane. :: Georgio: Always wondered what it means to be hit by a shuttle, must have been like that. :: He grinned widely to Torrin and sorted his clothing, to make sure he looked as immaculate as ever. :: ::Torrin turned to the where the violent Orion woman had stopped, still growling into her comm badge, about to scold her for throwing people around a crowded hallway, when he heard WHAT it was she was growling. She was growling to OPPS about strange luggage materializing in her arboretum, and that it was still there when she had specifically asked for it to be gone..:: Sherana: =/\= I have told you to get rid of that luggage in my Arboretum until I am back. Guess what happened? =/\= Ops: =/\= What luggage, Ma'am? =/\= Sherana: =/\= What lu... =/\= :: She growled in frustration and began to pace, which lead her on the hallway. =/\= The luggage that someone beamed into my Arboretum. =/\= Ops: =/\= Have you notified us before about that luggage, Ma'am. =/\= Sherana: =/\= You did not just ask that. What did I say a minute ago? =/\= Ops: =/\= Please, Ma'am, stay calm. We are doing what we can. =/\= Sherana: =/\= Obviously you are unable to move luggage from one point to the other then. =/\= Ops: =/\= We will send someone to get it. =/\= Sherana: =/\= Don't bother. I will move it, and attach a note that any damage is your responsibility. =/\= Ops: =/\= Ma'am, I will send someone right now. =/\= Sherana: ::growling:: =/\= Sure, now you do. Sherana out. =/\= Torrin: Mister Georgio, remind me never to question your genius again. Now… which of us is going to talk too her? Georgio: About time you see my genius. ::Grinning he continued:: Oh let me talk to her again, that was a fun ride. Torrin: I know.. but you seem rather durable. How did you not break your arm being thrown like that? Georgio: I just don't break. I'm Georgio. Let me get to talk to that little whirlwind. ::He already started to walk towards when Torrin held him back. :: Torrin: WAIT nevermind, Ill talk to her, you just … maybee let me do the talking. :: Georgio shrugged, watching (quietly, for the first time since Torrin had encountered him) as he hesitantly approached the Orion woman. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She angrily snapped around, fire in her black eyes and a snarling, wolf-like expression on her face. Torrin racked his brain to remember if throat-clearing was a grave insult in Orion culture, and being unable to recall any such information, presumed that this particular Orion was just a generally angry kind of person.:: :: In her whole time Sherana had been on board she had her emotions really well under control. But since not only Tal but also Porus had left the ship, it seemed that little things like that just brushed her the wrong way. She would have to get some training and meditation later to balance herself again. When someone cleared his throat behind her she twirled around and raised her furiously gleaming eyes upwards to the man. :: Sherana: ::snapping:: What? Torrin: I do apologies miss, but I couldn't help but overhear that you seem to have stumbled upon some mysterious luggage? Sherana: ::crossing her arms in front of her chest:: So you always listen to conversations that are none of your business? ::Torrin was not in the mood to indulge a grown woman's temper tantrum, but reminded himself that in spite of his size, he was older, out of fighting practice, a bit out of shape, and likely no match for this woman. He tried to reign in the impulse to respond sarcastically and was sure the effort he was making was distressingly obvious. :: Torrin: I apologies for contradicting you and mean no disrespect, but I do in fact think your conversation IS my business. Sherana: Oh really? ::She did not sound like she believed him:: And what do you think makes it your business? Torrin: Well you see, my husband and I have just arrived on the Apollo, and one of the several unfortunate mix-ups has been that our luggage was beamed aboard, in error, to a mysterious location we are unaware of. Sherana: ::The thought of getting rid of that stuff sounded very tempting, even if whoever got it was not the owner.:: So you dropped that in the middle of my work place? :: And just like that, the facade of friendly, mild mannered and patient understanding that Torrin put a great deal of effort into projecting during his day-to-day life came crumbling away. The intolerable shuttle ride, the fighting with Artem, the embarrassment of meeting the Admiral in a state of undress, the apparently unshakable little pink haired elfs critiques, and now an Orion woman being needlessly hostile all was just too much to keep it up. Torrin finally snapped.:: Torrin: Am I speaking Ferengi or are you just not listening ? I get that you might be having a rough day, but you really don't want to try my patience right now. I said that my luggage was misplaced by some miscreant cadets when they beamed it aboard, trust me if I could have avoided this unpleasant conversation I would have loved to but as it stands I believe my belongings are in your arboretum and would be SO very greatful if you could maybe take a deep breath and relax and take me there so I can get it off your hands. Do you think you can manage to calm down and do that, or should I call for a medic to treat your impending rage blackout? :: Sherana was amused. It did not happen that someone stood up to her like that without knowing of her past, knowing that she was a Klingon Warrior. Most people seemed to think that she was a small weak woman who should not be spoken down to, or raised their voice to. This man had gained some respect from her with that little blow up of his. Her eyes sparked, though that 'smile' never reached her lips, although it tugged faintly at the corner. :: :: Torrin was just starting to feel relieved that this interminable series of disasters would finally conclude, when Georgio broke his record streak of being quiet and causing no trouble, and interjected into the conversation. :: :: Since they had gotten to that point, and only watching was rather boring for Georgio, especially since she did not give him the same fun treatment as well, he decided to join them again. :: Georgio: I always thought Orions are sensual and very friendly. Must be that outfit, are they forcing you to wear those too, like those uniforms, sweetheart? It's dreadful! :: Sherana's eyes snapped to the other, loud and very colourful man. She felt the rolling snarl in her throat before it even sounded in her ears.:: Sherana: Be careful what you say, paleskin. Georgio: Oh darling, I know what I'm saying, you clearly need some help with your ... :: The woman snarled at Georgio, and Torrin was certain that he was going to get that second ride across the hall into the bulkhead that the clearly deranged little man had said he was hoping for.:: Torrin: Georgio, could you please give us a moment here. We were just getting to the point where... ::The Trill looked at her inquisitively, leaving an opening in the conversation for her to identify her name. She stared at him impassively, either not following, or not interested in introducing herself. Torrin sighed :: Torrin: ... this charming young lady was going to take us to her arboretum so that we might relieve her of my burdensome belongings. Isn't that so? Sherana: ::Pulling her eyes back to the tall Trill she took a moment to calm herself and nodded.:: It is in the Arboretum. This way. :: With that she turned on her heel and walked with brisk steps along the hallway, her boots sounding heavy on the carpet, as her ponytail bounced on the back of her thick bulky sweater. She heard a whisper behind her, but not what was said, but did not care about it anyway.:: :: As she headed off, Georgio followed them both and with quick, hip swaying steps he was at Torrins side. :: Georgio: ::whispering:: You know that she will need my help, these things make her look like a man. She could be so pretty with the right accessories. Torrin: She does not seem interested Georgio. Not everyone cares so much about being stylish. ::The look of sheer horror at the thought was priceless. Torrin could actually see the moment where Georgio realized that the issue was not always that people didn't know how to be stylish, but that, vulgarly enough, they might simply not care to be. Torrin could not help but smile at the mans expression of sheer disgust, but before he could say anything further, they arrived at the arboretum. The Orion woman pointed at the large pile of cases and containers (no wonder she was upset, it looked like they had damaged more than one of her exotic plants.... Torrin regretted snapping back at her as he could see her anger was more than justified, if misplaced in his direction):: :: Just a few moments later they were at the entrance of the Arboretum and the angry lady pointed in the direction of the piled up luggage. :: Sherana. There. Even if it is not yours, you can have it. Georgio: Now wouldn't that be fun! Grabbing random belongings and make a fashion show! ::he grinned widely:: :: Was this guy for real? Sherana stared at him in disbelief. That was his understanding of fun? She would never understood humans. :: ::Torrin looked at Georgio with an expression of utter disbelief, still not really sure of what to make of the little man. He turned his attention back to the Orion :: Torrin: Well fortunately for me, this is in fact my luggage. Unfortunately for Georgio, that means no surprise fashion show. Now, if I could just ... ::Torrin approached her, and tapped her comm badge. She seemed shocked and angry at the invasion of her space, much to his satisfaction. He leaned in close to the badge, not really knowing how the device worked, and how close he had to be to it for his voice to be picked up :: :: Sherana looked at him in terror as he approached and reached out to her to tap the badge on her chest. It was even worse when he remained way too close for her comfort, as if he had never seen or used a comm badge before and thought he'd have to speak right into it. :: Torrin: Hello? Ops? =/\= ...OPS here? Who is speaking? =/\= Torrin : =/\= I am Professor Avaris Torrin, and I was rather hoping you might assist me in transporting my luggage into my quarters and out of your charming and lovely botanists way =/\= =/\= Ah yes the containers Sherana was telling us about. So sorry about the mix up professor, we will get those where they belong immediately =/\= Torrin: =/\= Thank you.... ::he was not quite sure how to end a conversation via comm badge :: ... um... bye then. =/\= :: Sherana had kept a close eye on the man, alert in case he was doing anything stupid. And met his case as he looked at her. Now that the call was done she took a step back to get her personal space back. :: Torrin: Sherana eh? Thats a lovely name. Thank you ever so much for all of your help. Sherana: ::nodding:: Pleasure, Mister Torrin. ::She only graced the pink haired man with a brief look before she turned and grabbed her watering can off the ground, to bring it back into the tool room. At least she was getting rid of that luggage. And she had been intrigued by that Trill and his way to handle her. It was quite a surprise to her, but it indeed had been a pleasure. :: :: Georgio had pouted as he had heard that the luggage was indeed Torrin's and had watched the Trill for a moment as he walked to that rude woman and tapped her badge. He chuckled as she obviously wanted to get away from the Trill because he had come too close. Georgio in the meantime had walked to the luggage and took a look at it. He could not say if it was because it had landed in the dirt or if it was just old, but there were some scratches and abrasions on the material. He was curious to see what was inside, but he did not know the code, and while he could have done that, he did not want to hack in it. Way too much work just to see what he would see in a bit anyway. :: Torrin: And thank you for all of your help mister Georgio. I wont take up anymore of your time, you surely have other things demanding your attention. ::Hearing his name he looked up, standing bent over the luggage to take a look at the damage, raising his finely shaped pink brows in surprise.:: Georgio: Taking up my time? Honey, I still think you need my help. ::Torrin felt strangely sorry for the man. He seemed to be just wandering about the ship aimlessly, and although he seemed happy about it, Torrin could not help but wonder who this guy was and what he was doing on the Apollo. He wanted nothing more than to light some candles, replicate a stiff drink, and put his feet up... but the man looked so crestfallen at being dismissed, and Torrin DID have to unpack still. Sighing, and against his better judgement, he spoke to the man again :: Torrin: Well, if you are free for a little while more, I suppose I could use help unpacking? Georgio: ::grinning widely he straightened his back.:: I knew you would see that you'll need my help. After that we're going to take care about you. Torrin: That is not going to happen. :: When Torrin started walking, he quickly followed staying at the Trill's side. He would not give up, not that easily... or ever. :: Georgio: But darling you really need to. Your hair is too long and I need to see what you have in these containers. Torrin: No haircuts and no fashion shows. Don't make me regret inviting you over. Georgio: ::Sighing dramatically:: You can't take me with you and let me do *nothing*, darling. ::He talked while he moved his hands in grande gestures, as if he was on stage.:: Torrin: Fine. If we have time you can trim the split ends. But no more than half an inch okay? Georgio: ::He immediately stopped with the show and grinned widely, placing his hands on his hips:: A good start. About a new colour? Something fresh and bright to bring out these cheek bones of yours ... Torrin: I'll stick with my natural colour thanks. I don't think I have to necessary ... pizzaz to pull it off like you. Georgio: ::Grinning:: Not everyone can be Georgio, honey, but you can be... :: he threw one hand in the air, throwing his head back:: ... fabulous! Torrin: Im not really going for ::he waved his hands around in his best approximation of an impression of Georgio:: 'Fabulous'. Georgio: ::shaking his head he hooked his arm with Torrin's:: But don't you know, sweetcheeks? ::Torrin sighed heavily.:: Torrin: Know what, Mister Georgio? Georgio: That everyone is fabulous. Torrin: Trust me, not everyone. Some of us are content with being frumpy curmudgeons actually. Georgio: ::grinning:: That is because some people hide it inside and they need someone like... no they need *me* to help them to bring it out. Torrin: Your generous spirit is truly an inspiration to us all. ::Apparently sarcasm was as foreign a concept to Georgio as "dont bother people who are angrily yelling at someone" because he just beamed up at him, still holding onto his arm. (( Quarters Torrin/Dragumov )) :: As they entered, the Luggage that had been in the Arboretum just a little before, had finally found its way to where it belonged. Georgio let go of Torrin's arm and with a light jump turned and sat on one of the boxes, wiggling his legs and fidgeting on his new seat. :: Georgio: So, where do we start? ::Torrin looked urgently about, and found the crate he was determined to open first:: Torrin: This, Mister Georgio, is where we start. :: Georgio watched Avaris when he began to look around and searched obviously for something. He had found it rather quickly and opened a crate. Curiously Georgio leaned forward to peek under the lid before it was lifted. :: ::Torrin brandished the bottle of Saurian Brandy, almost reaching a level of theatricality on par with the pink haired sprite:: Torrin: Could I interest you in a glass? Georgio: ::Raising his hands:: I'm good, thanks. :: He did not drink... or eat.. or even breath for that matter. Of course Torrin did not know that yet, but Georgio did not even think about that. He did not feel like a hologram. On the other hand he did not kno whow it was to feel human, he just felt like ... himself. :: :: Torrin's immediate thought was that of course the little man didn't drink, he probably only ate steamed Andorian Kale in-between hours upon hours spent at the gym. Torrin was passingly familiar, through acquaintances and ex partners of Artem, with men of his type (it was common to be preoccupied with fashion and physical fitness amongst human men who were attracted to other men, as he assumed Georgio was), but had always seen their smaller subculture as a culture even more strange and alien to him than even the mainstream culture of Earth. He had certainly never gotten close to any man like that, they just didn't get him. In his youth he had been very concerned with presenting as scruffy and barbaric an appearance as possible, his first rebellion against the generally clean cut and elegant profile his people were known for. This attitude, even as he grew did not entirely leave him, and delighted in the horror Artem's male friends had tried desperately not to show on their faces when he had first brought Avaris for a visit to Earth. :: Torrin: Suit yourself. ::He replicated himself a tumbler glass, and poured a great deal of the drink without bothering to measure it. When he turned around, he saw that Georgio had already opened three crates and was studiously regarding every article of clothing he picked up before throwing it behind him :: :: When Torrin headed to the Replicator Georgio bounced off the container and begann to open some lids, grinning when he saw that he had found the ones with the clothes and began to pull out one piece after the other. Looking at them, he made a face, scrunched his nose and threw it behind him on the ground, before taking the next one. :: Torrin: Well I see you don't wasting time Georgio: Of course not, you cannot run around like that forever. ::He extended his hand and waved all over him, without looking at the Trill.:: You have some really beautiful pieces, though they look pretty patched up. You poor thing are not getting new things often, hm? Torrin: I told you I dont do replicated clothing, so of course I need to repair small wear and tear every so often. :: The little man had a point though. Torrins wardrobe was a beautiful collection of sumptuous fabric and top-notch tailoring. With clothing easily replicated by most people, the only vendors of handmade clothing were quite serious about it, and it was impossible to not look good in well made clothes. But his wardrobe was old, he hadnt bought new pieces in nearly two years, and he had made repairs enough time that the effect was glamorous from far away, but a little rough around the edges up close :: Georgio: Looks like you need a crash course in needlework, sweetheart. ::With that he threw the next piece behind him.:: It's a crime to ruin these wonderful fabrics with that. ::Torrin was a little bit shocked, it sounded like Georgio was talking about actual needles and thread, not the usual handheld sewing implement used in modern clothing manufacture and repair. Certainly needles and thread were easier to control and left a tidier finish, but it took lots of practice to master and most people didn't bother. Besides, there was a part of him that liked the ruggedness of his repair work, it made the clothes seem less pretentious. :: Torrin: Well I suppose I could not expect you to simply compliment my taste in clothing without sneaking in a suggestion for improvement. Ill just pretend you left it at the part where you were admiring my style. Georgio: Oh yes, yes. You certainly have style, sugar. Quite exquisite. Ever thought about using the holodeck programs to make yourself a tailor? ::Torrin did not quite understand what Georgio was saying:: Torrin: Would that not just be like, personifying a replicator? That seems even sillier than refusing to wear replicated clothing. Georgio: Oh honey, not for the clothes. For the sewing. Or is using replicated yarn also against your rules? ::Something about the suggestion was deeply troubling to Torrin. He was uneasy about artificial people, uncertain of the ethical ramifications of programming what essentially had the potential to be considered a person (as holograms had been proven to over the past decade) to perform menial labour. He had a talent for finding ethical dilemmas where everyone else seemed to just enjoy life and their privileges (such as possessing technology that allowed them to do this) and constantly had trouble expressing himself to others without sounding preachy and ridiculous, and so just fumbling for something to say replied :: Torrin: I don't know, that might work. I sometimes find the holodeck a bit creepy though, you know? ::Georgio's eyes narrowed in the first expression of anything other than spritely enthusiasm Torrin had seen on the man. But the brief expression of annoyance was fleeting, and he was back to a manic whirlwind almost instantly :: Georgio: Well either that, or learn it yourself. I'm not ruining my dainty fingers with needles. ::Smirking at him:: Torrin: Yes we couldn't have that. Georgio: ::Raising the lid from another container:: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeh ::He squealed in delight:: Decoration! ::Torrin laughed. How was this person for real?:: Torrin: Those 'decorations' are fascinating objects called "books" actually. They are used for reading, from before PADDs were invented. Georgio: ::He reached into the container and pulled out a few pieces.:: Marvellous. ::Turning around himself:: Now... where .. to.. put that. :: With every word he rotated another time just to then walk in one direction and place it on a side table. He stepped back a little shook his head and stepped closer again, moving it an inch and grinned pleased before he walked into the other direction to find a place for the other piece. :: Torrin: Yes I suppose that one does look good there, although it is more usual to place them on shelves. Georgio: ::waving his hand dismissively:: Usual is boring, change it up and make it your own. Torrin: You are right. Who wants to be ordinary. :: Georgio grinned at him, almost proud that the Trill got his point, and continued to decorate the place with all the things he could find in the containers. While he was sure that he could easily place the decor all by himself, with this being Avaris' quarter, Georgio had to listen to his ideas of course. Sometimes they discussed the placement, several times Georgio won, but at times Avaris put his foot down and Georgio gave in. It took a little while that they went through the containers, and Avaris seemed to enjoy to empty his glass a couple of times. Georgio did not really understood that kind of pleasure, not because he was a mean man, he just was unable to experience it or anything like that. :: :: The two of them continued unpacking, and Torrin continued drinking. He was a third through the bottle before he realized that he should probably kick the little guy out before he started to get mean. Friendly sarcasm was one thing, but alcohol induced mean-spiritedness was quite different, and Torrin was frequently ashamed of the things he said to people when he had too much. :: Torrin: Well Mister Georgio, it has been a pleasure, but I really must have a rest now, it has been a very long 24 hours, and I need to rest before going to visit the school and convincing them to employ me. Georgio: Oh how exciting. You show them your fabulousness and they won't be able to say no! ::He then tilted his head.:: But we did not get to cut your hair yet, you are not trying to trick me to get out it, aren't you darling? ::He spoke with the kind of voice that mothers used to perfect over hundreds and thousands of years, when it came to their children attempting to get out of things they did not want to do. :: Torrin: I am not trying to get out of anything, I promise you can trim my hair tomorrow. Besides, it would be lovely to get together again, I have somehow seemed to start enjoying your company ::he paused, worried that he had already started to get feistier than was entirely appropriately, and added ::… its nice to have a friend on thhe ship. Do you have time in your day for a hair appointment mister Georgio? :: This strange Trill saw him as a friend? That was a fascinating thing to hear, he had never had a friend. What exactly was a friend even? Maybe this was something to explore, as his programming only went so far. Experiencing could be interesting, it was something new, maybe it even fit into his shiny glittery world. But for now he focused on the really important part of what Torrin had said. :: Georgio: Honey, I *always* have time for a hair appointment. ::Smiling widely:: Torrin: Wonderful. Meet me here at 1830 tomorrow then. :: Georgio nodded and grinned, he would get that hair chopped off... even if only an inch. There was no way around it. He might have only been a holodeck program, but Torrin wasn't and he had promised. :: Georgio: Marvellous. I see you tomorrow then. Toodledoo! :: Georgio waved his fingers, like he was spreading glitter on the rug and left the quarters, already curious where his travels would lead him next. :: ::As the strange man left, Torrin found himself smiling. It was rather nice to have already met a friend on the ship, even if it was an unlikely friend.:: ---- Avaris Edral Torrin, PhD Civilian USS Apollo - A & PNPC Georgio Emergency Holographic Hairstylist (And self declared Fashion Police) USS Apollo - A simmed by LtCmdr Akeelah D'Sena First Officer USS Apollo-A Image Team Facilitator

((Jamming Room – The Tower)) ::Nate had created quite a buildup of stunned guards, all of which had fallen unconscious at the top of the stairwell. Frankly it was becoming somewhat ridiculous. They had dedicated a significant number of guards to preventing them from deactivating the beaming jammer. However, the Starfleet officers had the superior advantage and it was beginning to come across as something of an “overkill” on their part.:: ::Nate allowed himself a moment to focus on the situation with his colleagues – Fi, D’Sena, Collim, even Gordo. They were all still alive.:: ::His comrades were all growing on him. He respected them greatly. He would hate for anything to happen to any of them. And even though he felt that this particular arena of combat presented now significant danger to them, he still would not allow his friends to be hurt in any way.:: ::It was during that moment of thought and hesitation, that Nate noticed he’d allowed one heavily armored guard to get to the top of the steps. The soldier was wearing some sort of sophisticated energy absorption armor, and was mounted with a chemically mounted, tank fed, flame throwing backpack.:: ::Fi screamed something to get Nate’s attention. He didn’t know what exactly, he simply heard a voice.:: ::His mind refocused on the flame throwing guard, and he instinctively fired, without taking a moment to aim.:: ::Nate’s shot was on spec, but poorly aimed, and the shot left a trail, which danced up the soldiers armor, glancing across his backpack.:: ::The chemical exhilarant in the tank was no match for the focused energy beam, and it super ignited. The shockwave rocked the man to his knees, and he screamed in pain as he was engulfed in flames.:: ::The soldier screamed, burning alive. He hadn’t meant to kill the soldier, but the shot had missed…:: Wilmer: No… no…! No!!! ::The man was screaming in agony. None of his compatriots were attempting to put him out. They were just letting him burn. However, it soon didn’t matter. A second or two after the explosion sent shrapnel into the soldiers back, the screaming stopped.:: ::The soldier was dead.:: ::Nate felt a moment of serious guilt pass his mind. In all his years in Starfleet, in all the time serving in the Dominion War, and in the many away missions since, he had never killed anyone.:: ::No one moved up the stairs. No more guards came. That one lethal kill scared the remaining guards, sending them retreating down the stairs in terror. No matter how much the soldier had meant to kill them all with his flame thrower, no matter how well intentioned Nate’s defense of his friends had been, he had killed someone.:: ::He would never forget that man’s screams as he burned.:: TBC Ensign Nathaniel Wilmer Intel Officer USS Apollo-A

Please use this thread for any general discussion or questions about the Top Sims Contest. Do not post praise or criticism for submitted sims in this thread. Instead, post those praise or criticisms in the submitted sim's own thread.

((Bishop's Quarters - USS VICTORY - Deck 2)) ::To say that Leland “woke up” was to make light of a great struggle – like saying The Trail of Tears was “a long hike.” It was a slow and painful process which began with the gently piping chimes of his alarm. Unused to the sound, Leland waved his arms about ineffectively trying to knock the offending timepiece across the room. Only after prying one eye to half mast did he realize that the alarm was tied to his rooms comm system. Knowing the only way to silence it was to hit his comm badge he blearily scanned his bedroom. There it was, still attached to his dress whites which now lay crumpled in a chair near the door. The only way to stop the merry little tune was to somehow make it over to them...His head felt like someone had removed half his brain and filled up the cavity with a spicy gumbo and his mouth tasted of shame. Slowly he levered himself up on this elbows... Only to meet the unflinching gaze of his roommate, the taciturn Admiral Nibbles.:: Bishop: Nibbles, be a good boy and get my badge, would you? ::The massive Oscar did not reply, as he was a fish. But the sidelong glance of his long-time companion seemed filled with reproach.:: Bishop: Why didn't I get a dog...? ::Nibbles had been with him for years. On a whim, Leland had decided he'd like a pet the day before he left for The Academy. Even with so much to do to prepare for his new life, Leland made a trip to the pet store to select a creature that would fit the bill. He had spent more than an hour scanning the kennels and enclosures: looking with mild disdain at the puppies happily shaking their tails, the analytical cats, and the hideous noise-machines that were the birds. Even the fish didn't really do anything for him, they seemed to be dullards and devoid of spark...Then, as he was about to leave, he spied a little piebald fish swimming in the corner of his tank, away from his fellows. The fish was a bit smaller than the rest but seemed to posses a keen intellect. As if it knew it was destined for greater things. As Leland himself knew he was. He had leaned down to the fish, his nose near the glass and bade it come over. And sure enough, I had! It swam defiantly right up to Leland's nose and met his gaze with a look that brooked no argument: “You must choose me Leland,” It would have said if it had been capable of speech. “I understand you, and I alone.” Giddy as a schoolgirl, Leland had the pet store owner personally net the impudent young fish. The rest was history. Admiral Nibbles had been with Leland ever since and had made the journey into space with him to live near his bed on the Victory and give him disapproving looks when he drank too much. Casually Leland flicked some flake into the tank and gave Nibbles his customary rub as the fish rolled over to expose his flank. Leland then staggered wearily to his heap of clothes and reached for his comm. No sooner had his fingers touched the brushed metal of the badge than the thing squawked it's own, special annoying noise at him. Followed by..:: Nugra: =/\= Nugra to Victory Staff. There will be a mission briefing at 0900 in the Main Conference Room on the Deck 1. =/\= ::At once Lelands mind cleared. It looked like things might start to pick up after all! He dressed quickly and presented himself to Admiral Nibbles.:: Bishop: How do I look? ::The fish, as was its custom, said nothing.:: ::Leland made a gesture to the fish that was unbecoming of a Starfleet Officer and rushed to the meeting.:: Ensign Leland Bishop Diplomatic Attache USS Victory

((USS Columbia - Deck 8 - Carson's Quarters)) ::It had all come down to this; the evidence had all fallen into place and with equal parts luck and skill, Tyler was moments away from a slam-dunk arrest. He could almost feel the pats on the back he'd receive for this one, he could imagine the the pretty little notation in his Starfleet record. What he didn't know was that the universe seemed to have other plans.:: Kelly: Starfleet Security! ::He knocked strongly door 3 times:: Come out now or we will force entry. ::A voice came through the door, sounding mildly perturbed..:: Gerard: What is the meaning of this? ::Tyler recognized the voice of Carson's aide, though he didn't have any cause to arrest him, he had gotten a very strong impression that Gerard had been a party to Carson's misdeeds. Both of the men were pompous, arrogant thugs that thought they were too smart to get caught. Tyler's resentment for them was all-encompassing. Even now with the impending arrest of his employer, Gerard sounded almost bored.:: ::Refusing to acknowledge the smug, glorified man-servant, Tyler ignored him:: Kelly: Robert Carson, come out with your hands where we can see them. ::He heard foot steps in the distance, his men weren't far now.:: ::Tyler was about to give a final warning, when Carson emerged. The man's face was far too calm for the circumstances, but Tyler figured he'd continue his act, and ignored it.:: Kelly: You're under arrest for the murder of Aiden Richardson and Karen Stone. Do you understand that anything you say after this point can be used against you in any trial that may result from this arrest? ::Tyler made every attempt to speak in a calm, matter of fact tone, but the contemptuous look on Carson's face nearly sent him over the edge. Carson shoved a PADD in Tyler's direction, but Tyler just let it fall to the deck as he pulled his wrist restraints of his belt and began to secure the murderer's wrists. All at once his four crewman arrived on the scene and Carson called out in protest, his pompous tone caused Tyler's blood to boil, pushing him ever closer to the edge.:: Carson: Before you dig a bigger hole than the one you are already in Lieutenant you better check those credentials. ::Tyler nodded his head towards Carson, motioning for his crewman to secure him as he retrieved the dropped PADD. Tyler was livid. This man had come onto his ship, murdered two people and now he thought he could present some "credentials" and make it all go away. Tyler replied, making no attempt to soften his tone. He was no eternally placid Vulcan and in this moment, he was no longer the neutral professional he always tried to be, he was human with flaws and weaknesses and he HATED Robert Carson.:: Kelly: oO Before I dig a bigger hole? Who does this clown think he is dealing with?Oo Kelly: I am entirely uninterested in your [...] credentials Mister Carson. ::If words could kill, Carson would be a dead man.:: You know what you have done and there is nothing here that means anything imp-... ::Glancing down at the PADD as he spit his venom, he realized that it did appear to be an official document. Even as the security officers had him cuffed and restrained, Carson continued smiling, obviously under the impression that he had it all figured out. Tyler's hands clinched so tightly around the PADD that he felt the boronite casing flex as he read it's contents. Tyler's mind was racing, considering options, following all the different choices he could make to all of their possible conclusions.:: Carson: It means that no matter what proof you might think you have it is worthless. ::He smiled at Tyler.:: I have diplomatic immunity Lieutenant. I am Ambassador at Large for the Son’a Solidarity. Now I suggest you leave before you make a worse figure of yourself. ::He tilted his head slightly.:: We will arrange for your apologies later. ::In his minds eye, Tyler imagined his hands around Carson's neck, giving it a good squeeze. Shaking clear of the deranged fantasy, he made his decision acted without hesitation.:: ::In one smooth motion, Tyler threw PADD hard into the deck with all of his strength, shattering the screen and rendering the device unusable.:: Kelly: Oh no! How clumsy of me! ::He offered Carson a smile that nearly matched his own smugness.::These credentials will have to be verified through proper channels now! There's no telling how long that might ta- ::He was interrupted again, by Gerard this time. Tyler Turned slightly to face the man, with no shortage of disdain for him either.:: Gerard: Perhaps it is best we call on Commander Livingston Sir. ::Turning towards Tyler.:: I am sure the ship has a diplomatic officer that can testify for Mister Carson’s credentials. Will you call them or shall I? ::Tyler's eyes narrowed slightly, he had enough. If they wanted to play rough, he could play right back. Maybe he was making a mistake, but he had a hard time coming up with a scenario where securing a murderer was the wrong thing to do.:: Kelly: oO Even if we have to turn him loose when we get to the colony, there won't be a killer loose on my ship... Oo Kelly: You are quite right Mister Gerard, but I'm afraid all of the Senior staff were called into a very important meeting that starts in minutes. ::He faked an apologetic tone:: However, I'll be sure to present this matter to the Captain and CDO at my earliest convenience. Gerard: I will see the Captain myself Sir. Carson: I know you will Gerard. But don’t worry, I am sure the Lieutenant will take good care of me. Kelly: I believe we're done here. ::He turned to his crewman.:: You two take Mister-er, sorry, ::He emphasized the next word:: "Ambassador" Carson to the brig. ::Tyler turned to the remaining two crewman.:: Kelly: You two confine Mister...::He shot Gerard a glance:: or are you an ambassador as well? Nevermind. Confine Gerard to quarters, until further notice. ::The men acknowledged his orders and set about completing them. Tyler found Carson and Gerard's reactions to this move be particularly satisfying.:: Gerard: I must protest Lieutenant, you have no grounds to confine me. I believe you are making a huge mistake. Carson: Come now Gerard, the Lieutenant is an intelligent, I am sure he realized already this is a mistake and he can’t do things like that. Kelly: We shall see gentlemen, we shall see. ::With that, Tyler strode away heading for the bridge. He'd taken a gamble, but in his heart he felt he'd made the right choice. He only hoped the Captain that he'd yet to meet would agree.:: ::As he headed for the meeting, he did know one thing was certain; It had been one hell of a first day.:: ======//////======> Lt. Tyler Kelly Security Officer USS Columbia NCC-85279

((USS Atlantis - Rennyn’s Quarters)) ::Ren Rennyn fell gracefully through the air, high above the village of Arnmere. He could see all the places he loved from here - the old farmhouse he grew up in, the school, the forest, that bend in the creek behind old Uncle Wavern’s fallow field, where an ancient tree bent lovingly to the brook below, where little white paloue blossoms littered the sloping banks. He drew nearer that spot, remembering youthful romps there. Now he was naked, and falling faster. Wind rushed toward him mercilessly. The parachute he was sure he’d been wearing seemed to have disappeared. The field was alarmingly close. A few more moments to impact. Ren breathed his last breath, and he screamed.:: ::The scream was real, though the field was not. Instead, his body jerked against the bed where he lay face down, arms and legs spread carelessly at odd, unnatural angles. The dream clung to him, and he was as shocked to find his body unbroken as he was to find himself awake.:: ::He was wearing a full-body black spandex suit that may or may not have been a Parrises Squares uniform. His head was throbbing.:: ::Rudely, the comm rang out through his quarters, and Ren was sure someone had turned up the volume.:: FOSTER: =/\= Doctor Foster to Lieutenant Rennyn =/\= RENNYN: =/\= Uhnnn… Doc…. what fresh he--? =/\= FOSTER: =/\= I didn’t wake you did I? =/\= RENNYN: =/\= Wyn… =/\= ::He wondered if they’d entered some kind of reality-bending vortex. The pain behind his eyes was unreal. His tongue was dry.:: =/\= …I have no entire clue… =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Well, just as long as you’re not in some sordid naked tangle with a lover or three. =/\= ::smirk:: =/\= Not that there is anything wrong with sordid naked tangles whatsoever. I just would hate to interrupt one! =/\= ::Entering the world of the living, Ren was becoming aware of his surroundings again. The spandex suit was a size too small, and it really didn’t breathe well. There was half a box of jelly doughnuts in the bed with him. His right arm curled tenderly around a trombone.:: ::He sat up a little, and shook his head, trying to make his voice sound less groggy. The shake was a mistake. He looked around, trying to piece together the night before. The last thing he remembered was talking with Mattingly at the reception. All that bathtub gin…:: RENNYN: =/\= Well, I’m not naked. =/\= ::For a strange moment, he peered into the shadows in the corner, looking for spooks. He refrained from looking under the bed.:: RENNYN: =/\= Wyn, you don’t want to know. I also don’t want to know. How about we get down to business? =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Ah yes, business. I received a curious side mission from Commander West yesterday before the briefing and dinner… he wanted me to look into the scans Sovak and Valis took of the area outside the holodeck, in specific regarding Emerson Ravenscroft’s disappearance.=/\= RENNYN: =/\= That’s a lot of things. =/\= ::He picked up a doughnut. It couldn’t hurt. He talked with his mouth full of jelly and powder.:: =/\= Are you sure he meant me? Sounds like a mistake. =/\= FOSTER: =/\= No, he specifically mentioned to work with you. =/\= ::He paused:: =/\= I admit on the medical things I’m ace, but I’m no security junkie. =/\= RENNYN: =/\= Me neither. But Emerson’s a friend. I mean, we were going to get tattoos together, and that means something. So I’d be glad to help. But I thought the captain declared it a closed case? Emerson left of his own will? =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Evidence suggests otherwise. Strongly otherwise. Emerson may have left a note threatening to leave, but come on, Ren… we know exactly how likely that is. =/\= RENNYN: =/\= Maybe we’d better talk about it in person. Hey, Wyn. As a medical professional, how many jelly doughnuts would you say is too many? Because if the facts in this case bear out, I ate nine of them so far. =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Nine? Well… that’s… pushing it. =/\= RENNYN: =/\= And what’s the limit on bathtub gin? And should Okoryx be shut down for health code violations? I mean… I don’t even play the trombone! =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Trombone… please tell me you didn’t eat a trombone… =/\= RENNYN: =/\= I have a lot of questions. Give me a few minutes. Get me a hangover cure. I’ll see you in your office. =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Hangover cure. Right. Those seem to be popular lately. I’ll see you soon. =/\= ::The comm closed and Ren forced himself out of bed, delicately climbing over the mysterious trombone. He noticed a piece of material stuffed in its bell, and pulled it out. It was a hot pink ski mask.:: RENNYN: What the h was in that gin?! What kind of promotion ceremony was that?! ::He took the rest of the doughnuts with him and ate them in the shower. Nine had not been enough.:: Lt. Rendal Rennyn Helm Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

(( Flashback )) (( Stardate: 237209.22 )) (( Angosia, Graziar Medical Center )) (( Center of intensive treatment – West Wing )) :: Camus arrived under heavy escorted. He was starting to get distressed for not seeing the mother of his son, Doctor Darci Sakth. Their romance was censored at the beginning but when Tarsii was born the situation got worst. Darci started to receive professional reprimands and everything that she did was scrutinized at the small details. They were trying to find a way to move her away from the senior staff since the baby had born, five years ago. But Darci was a superb professional in her field, psychotherapy. :: :: Besides all that, she had been deprecated to promotions in recent years. She took that lightly because she was more concerned about his son’s heath, but Camus constantly fought against that prejudice. :: :: After some minutes, the tall and slim Angosian appeared behind the transparent wall of isolation. Her expression was not good. She was sadder than usual. Something had happened and Camus could feel it in the air. He walked toward her, clenched his fists tightly, and struck the wall with both hands. The vibration caused by that action resonated for the entire wing. Soon after that, came the sound. :: CAMUS ASMARA: :: Looking straight at Darci’s eyes. :: What did happen? SAKTH: It would be better that you come in. :: She said in an emotional tone. :: But please Camus. Behave yourself. CAMUS ASMARA: :: He nodded in agreement. :: As you desire. :: Darci waved her left hand over a blue spot on the translucent wall and quickly a door appeared as per magic. Camus then entered without the escort. Both holding hands and walked toward the center of that wing. Over there, laying for almost one year in coma, was the infant Tarsii. :: CAMUS ASMARA: Is he still unconscious? :: He asked with moderate tone. :: SAKTH: I would like to talk with you about an experimental drug that came to my knowledge this week. CAMUS ASMARA: Another experiment? SAKTH: Yes, Camus. I will not give up our son. CAMUS ASMARA: But he could be suffering a lot. Did you think about that? SAKTH: Yes. I do. We have those equipments … :: Pointing to a complex set of devices connected to Tarsii at his both arms. :: … they guarantee that he is not suffering. He was barely alive Camus. CAMUS ASMARA: I know, I know. You have told me uncountable times. SAKTH: I know you love him as much as I do, and you don´t want him to suffer. :: She pauses while taking some kind of hypospray with green phosphorescent liquid inside. :: But this new drug could help our son. CAMUS ASMARA: But… :: Every experimental drug that Darci had tested came with a high price, and that one didn´t seem different. :: SAKTH: The cost of this drug is exorbitant. The program budget will not cover. CAMUS ASMARA: If it works we will figure out one way to raise funds for that. I guarantee you. :: With his right forefinger he caressed her nose. :: SAKTH: They need your consent before the procedure. :: She handed him a tablet with the authorization letter. :: CAMUS ASMARA: I will not read. I trust you. :: He imposed his right thumb over the device. Some noises were heard and soon ceased. :: SAKTH: :: Holding hands with Camus she applied the drug on Tarsii’s neck. :: Come to us son. CAMUS ASMARA: oO You must react son. You’re a warrior. You must carry my name and make your mother proud. Come to us son. Oo :: The time freeze. For some instances any reaction could be measured. The fragile body of that boy seemed to have lost the desire for life. :: CAMUS ASMARA: Didn´t work? SAKTH: :: She shrugged.:: Let’s wait! :: But almost at the same time the equipments got crazy. The little boy was in terrible pain. Other doctors appeared and started to help. Tarsii seemed to reacting negatively to the drug. :: CAMUS ASMARA: He is in pain. :: He held his son’s hand with great emotion. :: You must prevail son. SAKTH: :: She joined Camus and both held the hand of Tarsii. :: oO You are strong. You are made from love and light. You must shine. You must survive. Oo :: A small tear came from Tarsii’s left eye. The pain was intense and his parents would have to do something. Darci hugged Camus in despair and asked for a miracle. :: SAKTH: She is suffering Camus. What do you want me to do? CAMUS ASMARA: I don´t know Darci. I will not terminate his life. :: All the medical staff was looking toward the couple waiting for a decision. Darci with close eyes hugged firmly Camus. She didn´t want to see that. Camus however was strong and his instinct of survival didn´t allow him to quit his life or his son’s life. Then the equipments went silence again. Darci feared the worst. :: TARSII ASMARA: Mom and dad. I love you. :: For a fraction of second his conscious had wake up. :: (( End Flashback )) :: Tarsii was lying down on the floor and he could hear some altercation around him… some dispute. He brought his hand toward to the throat and he felt pain. Last thing he remembered was to be in the kitchen waiting to speak with Commander Mei’konda when he fainted. But now he was on the saloon of the dining hall. He didn´t know what had happened but as he stand up in his feet he could realized some Cardassians fighting against his comrades. :: To be continued… ---------- Lieutenant JG Tarsii Asmara Science Officer USS Garuda NCC-73809

Polling closes at 11:59pm Pacific on Sunday, December 7th. This is a run-off poll, where our general membership will choose from the top sims of 2014 Rounds 21-26 to find the best sim that will proceed to the final round of the contest. Please read the sims below, which were chosen by a panel of judges (one from each ship) to find the best sims from each round of Set 3: ROUND 26: Luna Walker: "To Sleep, perchance to nightmare"ROUND 25: Sky Blake & Tristam Core, "A holographic step"ROUND 24: Quinn Reynolds & Alleran Tan, "Symmetry"ROUND 23: Alleran Tan, "The Broken Mirror"ROUND 22: Ben Kaji, "To the Briefing!"ROUND 21: Della Vetri, "Extreme Babysitting"Vote for the sim which is best written. We recommend looking for strong characterization and evocative or descriptive scene-setting. If any crew is found "stuffing the ballot" -- having everyone on the crew vote for the same sim to ensure it proceeds to the final round -- that crew will be eliminated from the contest for the remainder of the year. Good luck to the nominees!

Welcome to Top Sims Contest of 2014! All announcements for the entire 2014 contest will be posted in this thread. The Top Sims contest allows members of our fleet to be recognized by their peers for superior writing ability. Unlike the Writing Challenges, this contest allows only sims that have been used in a current plot to be considered. SUBMISSION GUIDELINES You can submit ANY sim -- from your ship, or another ship. You can submit your own sims if you wish. All sims are welcome, including staff (Captain, First Officer, etc.) sims.The sim must be written with good spelling, good grammar, and be in the correct format. Poorly structured sims will be disqualified.When a sim is submitted, it must have been created within the current submission period, or the previously lapsed submission period. Put another way: do not sims which are any older than a month.Submitted sims may not have any open dialogue tags. (i.e.: [respond here]) All dialogue in the sim must be filled in. (Just find the responding author's sim and fill in the blanks.)Sims must not include any "canon" characters. (i.e.- no characters who have appeared onscreen.)Please find a balance between nominating too many, or too few sims. Don't submit every good sim -- instead, post every great sim! Encourage your fellow crew-mates to submit at least a few sims a year. If you want your crew-mates to win more, you have to nominate the best sims, and encourage others to write higher quality sims! HOW TO SUBMIT A SIM First: Click the "Start New Topic" button. The format of the topic title should be as follows: "Character - Sim Title" For example: "LtJG Tristan Wolf - Everywhere you go, there you are"Note: Please do not clutter the topic title with an endless list of NPC or PNPC names or "JP" designations. Instead, simply include the primary character's rank and name. If it's a joint post, just include both rank and names -- no need to include the "JP" in there.Second: Choose from the "Topic Prefix" box the correct round number. (To check what round we're currently in, see the contest calendar below.) Third: Copy into the message box the complete sim. You don't need to worry about column width. Check to make sure that the sim is readable. You can click the "Edit" button to fix any issues, but don't delay -- the window to open a post closes after a short while. COMMENTING ON A SIM Everyone is welcome to comment on submitted sims. If you're going to provide constructive criticism, you are required to employ the "Hamburger" criticism method: first, mention something you like; second, something you didn't like; third, something else you liked. If you just want to provide praise, no hamburger method required! Commenters who are rude, unfair, or overzealous in their commenting will be barred from future comments in the contest forum, and will have their actions brought to the attention of their CO. CONTEST CALENDAR Set 1, 2014 Round 1, 2014 submissions: Monday, November 4 to Sunday, November 17Round 2, 2014 submissions: Monday, November 18 to Sunday, December 1Round 3, 2014 submissions: Monday, December 2 to Sunday, December 15Round 4, 2014 submissions: Monday, December 16 to Sunday, December 29Round 5, 2014 submissions: Monday, December 30 to Sunday, January 12Round 6, 2014 submissions: Monday, January 13 to Sunday, January 26Run-off Round 1: Monday, January 27 to Sunday, February 23Set 2 Round 7: Monday, January 27 to Sunday, February 9Round 8: Monday, February 10 to Sunday, February 23Round 9: Monday, February 24 to Sunday, March 9Round 10: Monday, March 10 to Sunday, March 23Round 11: Monday, March 24 to Sunday, April 6Round 12: Monday, April 7 to Sunday, April 20Round 13: Monday, April 21 to Sunday, May 4Run-off Round 2: Monday, May 5 to Sunday, June 1Set 3 Round 14: Monday, May 5 to Sunday, May 18Round 15: Monday, May 19 to Sunday, June 1Round 16: Monday, June 2 to Sunday, June 15Round 17: Monday, June 16 to Sunday, June 29Round 18: Monday, June 30 to Sunday, July 13Round 19: Monday, July 14 to Sunday, July 27Round 20: Monday, July 28 to Sunday, August 10Run-off Round 3: Monday, August 11 to Sunday, September 7Set 4 Round 21: Monday, August 11 to Sunday, August 24Round 22: Monday, August 25 to Sunday, September 7Round 23: Monday, September 8 to Sunday, September 21Round 24: Monday, September 22 to Sunday, October 5Round 25: Monday, October 6 to Sunday, October 19Round 26: Monday, October 20 to Sunday, November 2Run-off Round 4: Monday, November 3 to Sunday, November 30FINAL RUN-OFF OF 2013: Monday, December 8 to Sunday, December 28 - this run-off selects the Top Sim of 2014. Set 1, 2015 Contest Round 1, 2015 submissions: Monday, November 3 to Sunday, November 16, 2014Round 2, 2015 submissions: Monday, November 17 to Sunday, November 30, 2014Round 3, 2015 submissions: Monday, December 1 to Sunday, December 14, 2014Round 4, 2015 submissions: Monday, December 15 to Sunday, December 28, 2014Round 5, 2015 submissions: Monday, December 29 to Sunday, January 11, 2015Round 6, 2015 submissions: Monday, January 12 to Sunday, January 25, 2015

((Nissitissit Middle School, Pepperel Massachusetts, Earth))((15 years ago)) ::Despite the growing cosmos and expanding enlightenment of the known galaxy, even the epicenter of the Federation was riddled with small towns full of people who were quite happy living on their home world thankyouverymuch. Pepperel Massachusetts was one such town. Many of the inhabitants rarely went farther outside their front door than the coast; and if they really felt the need for a cultural exchange they could take a weekend trip to New York and get all curiosities satisfied. Most of them wished no ill on any other species, but they all felt a solid comfort in keeping a firm footing right where they were rooted. And in turn they didn’t get many visitors. They had a half-Vulcan high school teacher for a few years and the occasional guest speaker; but like so many other small towns they mostly kept to themselves. Which wasn’t to say their lives were boring. Most would say their lives were anything but. In Mrs. Theresa’s sixth grade class, for example, the kids were in a never-ending social struggle of developing awareness. Old enough to be awkward and self conscious, but young enough to have very little rein on their reactions any time beyond the watchful eye of their teachers was spent testing and developing a pecking order within the ranks. For twelve year old Peter Bentley, voyaging to the stars seemed like a very far away dream when he trying to survive a new day of middle school. It was a dream he held on to, nonetheless. Sometimes it was the only thing that buoyed him through the days. ‘Hey Peter Pudgebucket!’ ‘Portly Peter gonna finish all that?’ ‘Bozo Bentley’s got two left feet!’ Peter had heard them all. It wasn’t his fault he was raised by his grandmother and she insisted on making everything from scratch. If he ate replicator meals like the rest of the kids he would have all his nutrients carefully and scientifically calculated out for him. But Gramma Bentley loved to bake and Peter loved to eat what she made. She was also somewhat sedentary, and therefore Peter was too. He had spent his childhood reading books and learning historical woodcrafting from his grandfather rather than running and joining sports. So now he was the awkward pudgy kid who was the last one picked for every team. And like vultures circling around a carcass, every one of the insecure homebodies in sixth grade zeroed in on him as the target of preference. But not today. Today Peter had leapt out of bed, practically rushing to get ready. This surprised his grandmother, who usually had time for a full three cups of coffee before frying up Peter’s breakfast eggs. Today she had barely finished one. She wanted to ask why Peter was in such a rush, but he ran out the door before she could ask. The answer was simple: today marked the day where he was no longer the biggest outcast in the school. Today was the day the new kid arrived. New kids always took a bit of heat off Peter, at least for a little while – until the new kid integrated into the social scheme and the bullies went back to tormenting their favored omega. But from all the rumors he had heard, this new kid was as different as possible. An Andorian kid with a human name. And while Peter didn’t understand it in an academic sense, he certainly knew by instinct that nothing brings a population closer together than being faced with an outsider. He was determined to get the middle school equivalent of a ‘front row seat’ to see what everyone would be facing. And so he rushed to school early, getting a prime spot on the playground as the kids gathered, watching as the new kid arrived. Peter Bentley could barely contain his glee (though later on in life he would be mightily ashamed to admit that). The kid was short! Complete with a mop of white hair, a weird smile and a strange accent. He couldn’t ask for better. He smiled inwardly, looking forward to a long term reprieve from the bullies attentions.:: ~*~((Playground – Pepperel Massachusetts, Earth))((Two weeks after the previous scene)) Sometimes things just don’t go the way we plan. Peter Bentley stood in the chilly November evening, holding a handful of slimy dead worms, staring into sapphire eyes that were quite possibly colder than the wind that was cutting through his jacket. BENTLEY: Eat ‘em, or we wash your face in the snow. FOSTER: ::Nonchalantly:: Hardly a decent threat to someone who was born on an iceball. ::The adolescent Andorian managed a wholly smug look, which made the pudgy kid named Peter squirm, and the bullies behind him bristle.:: ::Peter took a tentative step forward, not liking the position he was in one bit. The new kid had been every inch as alien as he had expected. The bullies didn’t like him at first glance, though he seemed to win accords with some of the kids who had Starfleet ties – and oddly enough he was quite popular with the girls. Then again at twelve, being popular among the girls wasn’t a selling point with the bullies. They started up a mess of rumors that the new kid wasn’t really a man. Weren’t their species hermaphrodite or four sexed or some other crazy thing? Peter didn’t know and he was certainly too scared to ask the new kid. Not that the new kid was scared. And therein lay the problem. None of the other new kids had stood up to the bullies, but Wyn Foster seemed to have little fear when it came to staring someone down and telling them off. Which the bullies didn’t like one bit. So they started planning ways to drill fear into the new kid. There was a pecking order and he would respect it! To this end they started recruiting. Peter Bentley was shocked when they recruited him. Him! One of the in crowd! He said yes in a heartbeat. He never thought it would land him here, in-between the defiant new kid and a crowd of bullies who he was quite sure would beat the ever living snot out of him if he chickened out.:: BENTLEY: There’s more of us then there are of you! FOSTER: ::eyes darting around:: Ok… not faulting you that logic. BENTLEY: ::Taking another trembling step forward:: Eat the worms! MATTINGLY: ::The biggest of the back bully-line called out:: Or we’ll make you wish you never came to this planet. FOSTER: Really? Brett, your dulcet tones already make me wish I never came to this planet. But if worm eating amuses you… ::he leaned forward and snatched the slimy mess from Bentley’s hands and stuffed them in his mouth.:: ::A chorus of ‘ewww!’ and ‘that’s disgusting!’ came from the back line. Wyn himself had a somewhat academic expression on his face as he chewed and swallowed.:: FOSTER: Not terrible. Tastes a bit like dirt. Would be better if they were fresh. You know, like gagh. MATTINGLY: That is totally gross. Worm eater. FOSTER: How would you know it’s gross if you never tried them, hm? ::Brett Mattingly grimaced, folded his hands over his chest and stormed off with his posse behind him. In that very moment the bully decided that, yes, he hated Wyn Foster and something had to be done about that kid. On the other hand Peter Bentley lingered and slowly smiled an apologetic smile. He had decided that the new kid was pretty cool…:: Lieutenant Shar’Wyn FosterChief Medical OfficerUSS Atlantis

((Lt. Cmdr Luna Walker's quarters, USS Apollo A)) :: The pink haired woman thrashed on the bed, having sobbed herself into an unwilling doze. The pressure and pain of the last few weeks pulling her down into unconsciousness, shackling her to her fears. Her body told the tale, low moans of denial mixed with a thrashing that weren't quite sufficient to pull her from the nightmare. :: ((Nightmare-scape)) :: Luna looked around with panic in her eyes. Her wrists and ankles were bound tightly enough that even her vulcanoid heritage wouldn't free her. It didn't stop her from struggling, she'd gotten out of tougher spots than this... Finally, exhausted, she looked around the room. It smelled harshly of cleaning fluids, with tile on the floor and a drain in the center. She closed her eyes and refused to imagine what would flow down that drain, and struggled again against her bonds but to no avail. She noticed a Tal'Shiar officer walk into the room. The uniform, attitude and cursed ring on his hand. She pulled more against her bonds in sudden fear. :: Faceless Tal'Shair: :: Applauding slowly:: Yes, quite good Lluneh, struggle as fiercely as you should. I can promise you, that it will only get worse from here. :: She felt a spike of fear and dread as she faced him, but licked her lips and tried to play it off as nothing. :: Walker: Well I have to say, this is the worst day spa I've ever been to. I mean the conditions here are app...OW! :: Despite her attitude, or because of it, the romulan had moved forward to slap her hard enough to make her teeth rattle. :: Faceless Tal'Shair: Child, I feel I should explain something. And I'll use small words. :: She started to speak, to tell him off, but he raised his fist to hit her again... and she couldn't. She tried.. she tried mouthing off in any of the ways she knew.. but the fear overwhelmed her. All that happened was her cringing away from the blow and mewling in fear. His smile was darkly pleased, and instead he patted her on the cheek.. making her flesh crawl as she found herself grateful that he'd not hit her. :: Faceless Tal'Shair: Good.. even a mongrel like you can be taught her place. Now, I'm sure you are thinking that you only have to hold out for awhile. That in not too long at all.. someone from Starfleet is going to break down that door and save you. :: He smiled, and turned to watch the door. :: Any minute now... Oh.. that's odd... it looks like no one is coming after all. :: Something in her snapped. The fear, the self loathing, all formed a perfect focus for her. She pulled her arm free, ignoring the pop as bones in her hand disjointed with the effort and slammed her fist into the Tal'Shiar's face. He fell without a sound, and she quickly untied herself. She was free! In moments she was running to and through the door... :: :: The room she ran into was a mirror of the one she'd left... down to the broken strap.. turning.. there was no longer a door there.. only a wall. When the faceless Tal'Shair came into the room.. she felt the strength go out of her legs.. dropping her to the floor. :: Faceless Tal'Shair: There's no where to go Lluneh.. no scenario you can break free. No one who knows where to find you even if they cared to do so. The only question is... how much pain do I get to give you before you get back into your chair? :: It was too much... too much to take.. no way out.. no way... The Tal'Shiar loosened the whip at his side, a neural whip.. enough to flay her nerves raw without ever hurting her flesh. It sparked as it activated.. and almost of it's own volition.. her body moved toward the chair. :: Faceless Tal'Shair: Good girl Lluneh. And just think.. if not for you.. I wouldn't be here. We are going to have such a very long talk won't we. :: Suddenly she could see his face... her brother's face. It was twisted with an evil energy and intent.. She squirmed back in the chair.. shaking her head in denial. :: Luna Walker: No.. no no no no no! Not you.. can't be.. you wouldn't.. couldn't... it's.. it's NOT POSSIBLE!! :: A sardonic smile crossed his lips, a dark look of amusement that she'd never before have imagined on his face. :: Ben Walker: Oh but it is little Lluneh, and all thanks to you. I went down to rescue you.. and you.. :: he paused.. as if puzzled:: you.. did nothing and left me behind. :: He laughed, sending chills up her spine. : But that's not all is it? You also lost Kali.. who is the only person who you might have convinced to come after me... and then lost your ship! And best yet.. when it happened again.. when an Admiral was in a position you could stop his death... you failed. No wonder you were given to us. :: A look of horror and loss flowed over her features, her bonds going slack beneath her. :: Luna Walker: What...what did you say? :: He smiled jovially, as if two close friends sharing something far too humorous to contain:: Ben Walker: You don't remember? Starfleet GAVE you to us. They said you were less of a threat to them with us, then with them. Now, enough reminiscing... let's get started shall we? :: She didn't even feel the first lash of the whip, but screamed anyway. Screamed in fear and confusion and loss. :: ((Luna's quarters, USS Apollo-A)) :: Her own scream woke her, not fully..but enough to recognize she was trapped. She pulled and tore the blankets before launching herself across the room, crashing into a table. She couldn't stop screaming.. the nightmare too real.. too visceral to deny. Long moments passed as she pulled herself back together, recognizing the nightmare for what it was. Licking her lips, she focused.. calming herself.. yes. she'd been captured and tortured by the Tal'Shiar.. but not by Ben. He'd asked to be left behind with them... not been abandoned. And she was at least mostly sure that Admiral Jaxx's death wouldn't be at her feet. She'd tried everything within the regs.. and a bit beyond.. hadn't she? :: ~fin for now.. Lt. Cmdr Luna Walker Mad Queen of Quarters USS Apollo-A

((Backsim – before the Carnivale)) ((Captain’s Ready Room, USS Atlantis)) ::The deep red wood of the desk accentuated both the lethal curves and brilliant metal of the sword. After Tyr’s departure, after John’s congratulatory call, Raj sat there behind the ancient desk, staring silently at the blade for the longest time. How beautiful something so deadly can be. How finite and final.:: ((Flashback – 4 years ago, Migrant Colony Medical Camp, Mars)) ::Their relationship had been on the verge of collapse for some time now. Raj had continued to water and nourish the wilting relationship obsessively, not realizing that he was in fact drowning it.. drowning them both.:: MATTHEWS: ::gently leading him aside by the elbow:: A word, Raj? BLUEHEART: Sure, Dylan. ::He tore the surgical mask from his face. His heart sank.:: MATTHEWS: Look, this isn’t working out. We both know it. We both need to move on. BLUEHEART: Okay. ::He smiled. He surrendered.:: MATTHEWS: You’re hurt, I can see that, but this is for the best. If only…. ::It didn’t hurt. He had been numb for several months now. Late that evening Raj had returned home to his temporary quarters and stripped off all his clothes before stepping into the common shower room. Finding it deserted, he turned on the water to a scalding temperature and stepped under the steaming hot jet. The burn was exquisite. He wasn’t as numb as he had thought himself to be. That had to be a good thing, right, he asked himself rhetorically. Just how numb was he after all? How alive was he? How dead was he? Back pressed against the wall, he slid down till he was seated under the cascading water, naked, knees drawn up close to his chest. He unclenched his right hand where he had concealed a scalpel he had sneaked out of the infirmary. He stared at the gleaming blade for the longest time, his heart never even picking up pace. How deadly something lifesaving can be. How beautiful something deadly can be. How finite and final. He wondered how tranquil it would feel to be numb, forever. He wondered how serene it would feel to be oblivious to the universe around him, forever. How finite and final. The blade felt cold against the skin despite the scalding water.:: “No more let life divide what death can join together” ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, ‘Adonais’ ((Captain’s Ready Room, USS Atlantis)) ::Tyr’s sword was just as cold as the blade that caressed the skin of his wrist four years ago. He expected himself to be repulsed by the flashback of that bitter and shameful memory but was surprised, rather, by the lack of that emotion. It was as if he understood, perhaps only now, the intention behind that act, the consequence stemming from it, and the inevitable lesson learned. But.. was that bridge burned? Would a day come when he will have to cross it once more? He turned away from the blinding gleam bouncing off the weapon and gazed out of the window. Everything was quiet despite all the activity going around the station. It was as if time stood still, in that moment, in that room, on that ship, on that station, in that sector of space. It can never be far enough from the truth – they were all hurtling through space at a dizzying speed, chasing Light. The entire universe was carrying on, like it had since time immemorial, regardless of the deaths and births of galaxies and gnats, empires and eagles. Would the loss of one more life really tip the scale of equilibrium in the universe? Could he, Raj Blueheart, change the direction of the compass? Was he, Raj Blueheart, a God? How did it come to be that one life mattered more than the next? There on the desk was a sharp blade. Like the scalpel that he had held in a strangely calm and steady hand four years ago, it was a blade that could end a conflict or start a war. A blade that could save a life or end a thousand. Or simply a humble blade that could take one life. Just one life.. The random, cold, unwavering universe will not mind, will not notice, will not care. He thought about Emerson. He thought about Tyr. He thought about Sheila. They too will eventually carry on when the memories have faded. And when they themselves have faded? Who will remember them? Who will remember us? Certainly not a random, cold, unwavering universe that doesn’t care, that doesn’t love. But when he looked at the sword, he knew the tale from which it was forged. He knew the legacy that was passed on to him. The words, the spirit, the force within it that was passed to him. It was fundamentally the essence of a tale, HIS tale, of a lifetime ago. There, in the metal and sheen, the intricate patterns and curves, was an epic tale in which he had played a very important role. And so it hit him. Stories. We don’t leave behind our memories as we have come to believe. We leave behind our stories. Stories everywhere, in galaxies and gnats, in empires and eagles, in swords and scalpels. Stories of love and tragedy. Stories of pain and joy. Stories to build civilizations and reach for the stars. Stories that will last an eternity. Suddenly it occurred to him that the universe wasn’t as random and cold and uncaring as he had assumed. It was in fact an entangled yarn of countless lives all a part of a greater tapestry, and each string was a story that will forever change the pattern, itself a pattern that is constantly changing, constantly evolving. It was an unfinished masterpiece. And his tale was only just beginning.:: El amor es mi espada.. END ========================================== Captain Raj Blueheart Commanding Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

(( Del's Quarters )) Rahman: But it's okay. I'm glad it happened this way. Before anyone else could get hurt. Del Vedova: That's a little, uh, dramatic. Hm? :: He gave her a quirky smile, to which she furrowed her brow. :: Rahman: How so? Del Vedova: I mean to say, no one was killed. And whatever you're carrying around your neck, Rosh, I hope it's not so heavy. ::beat:: Engineers don't work just for Starfleet. You don't need a uniform to explore the stars. :: She tried not to laugh. :: Rahman: Yeah... but it helps if your face wasn’t all over the news streams for the past few weeks with "terrorist" next to it. :: She let out another sigh. :: Rahman: I don’t know… I’m thinking I just need to go. Del Vedova: Really? And what did you have in mind? :: She looked back at him for a moment before frowning slightly. :: Rahman: ...I don't know. I haven’t thought that far. Del Vedova: Well, let’s think, then. :: He meant the implicit “us,” too; if she was going through this thing, well -- he’d done enough to add to its difficulties already. Time to help. :: Del Vedova: Do you want to stay? Rahman: Here? :: She took a quick glance around his quarters. :: Del Vedova: Here. On the ship, or the station. Anywhere nearby, I guess. :: She scrunched her nose. :: Rahman: It’s not a matter of what I want. Del Vedova: No, I guess I knew that. Well. How much say do you have? ::beat:: Any? :: He kept his face expressionless as he spoke, or he tried. He felt a jerk of muscles after the last word that meant, he thought, that he hadn’t been very successful. This was his fault, wasn’t it? In part, anyway. :: Rahman: I mean… it’s not official yet, but I’m basically on leave now until the SCE and Starfleet Command figure out what they want to do with me. Del Vedova: Ah. “On leave” -- so you do get to have some say in it, right? :: She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. :: Rahman: And I’m sure you’re not surprised that I’ve managed to accumulate quite a bit of leave somehow over the past year. :: Del shrugged. What could he say? :: Del Vedova: It seemed appropriate? :: She frowned again as she looked back at the bottle of shiraz. :: Rahman: No, I do need to get away. Ugh. If not from everyone else then at least from him. Del Vedova: Him? Him whom? Not -- him me? :: No, of course not. She wouldn’t be around if that was the case. :: :: Her eyes darted up back to him and she actually gave him one of her trademark smirks. :: Rahman: You’re not secretly in love with me, are you, Del? Del Vedova: Wait, wait, wait: You tell me first! You’re not secretly in love with me, are you? :: They stared at each other for a moment before they both ended up cracking up. :: Rahman: Oh, Del. I knew there was a reason I liked you. Del Vedova: Because you don’t like me -- I mean, let’s be clear on that. Obviously. :: But he smiled at her in a way he hadn’t so far. The laughter, perhaps wine-induced, had loosened them both us, and he felt as though the whole thing was, for the moment, incredibly funny. :: Rahman: Well, if it’s not overconfident Andorian pilots I have to deal with, apparently it’s stubborn Rodulan engineers… how goes things on your end? We haven’t talked much since Kotir left. Del Vedova: Apart from resigning, it’s been great. I mean, I’m on a bit of a post-CMO high, so maybe a lot of it looks great right now. :: She tilted her chin downward in the manner of a scolding school teacher. :: Rahman: You know what I meant. :: His sigh was as close to a breath as he could make it. :: Del Vedova: Yeah, I do. ::beat:: But there’s nothing to report. I thought -- for a minute -- but never mind. :: She sat back, pouting. :: Rahman: You’re such a jerkface, sometimes you know. :: Del shook his head. He could see the face easily, but the name, or the uniform color? Nowhere to be found. He took another sip, though that probably didn’t help. :: Del Vedova: It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I just -- don’t -- remember. :: And he held up the glass, tipped it toward her. She returned a questioning glance. :: Del Vedova: Maybe it’s better that the memory is the first thing to go. Stops me from doing anything foolish after half a bottle. Rahman: God, you’re such a lightweight. Del Vedova: I also have twenty kilos on you. How does that work out? :: She picked up her own glass before sipping the water. :: Rahman: That’s why I don’t drink. Del Vedova: Because you drink large men under the table? :: He raised an eyebrow. No one would logically call Del “large,” probably, except maybe a Ferengi. In fact, with all the tall individuals Starfleet seemed to employ, he tended to feel distinctly short at around 170 cm. Rosh, of course, was always short. Maybe that was why he liked her. :: Rahman: Ahem. Anyway… Del Vedova: Right. Where were we? Rahman: I was just saying this stupid, stupid man… I brought him on board. Tried to make things right for him. And then he goes off and declares his love for me. Well, not in so many words, but… ugh. :: Again with his raised eyebrow. This time, though, he thought he knew who she was talking about. He didn’t confirm, though; if she wanted to give his name, she would. :: Del Vedova: So all the more reason to get away, am I right? :: She gave a curt nod. :: Rahman: [...] straight. Del Vedova: So. Where are we going? :: She looked back at Del and smiled again. No argument. No trying to reason with her. They truly got each other. True friendship. Or maybe that was just the wine. :: Rahman: “We?” Del Vedova: Of course. I’m no longer in charge of the medical department aboard the Garuda, and I have a lot of leave saved up, too. You didn’t think you were going to go off alone, did you? :: His look was a sort of pity, but it was couched within a smirk. He needed her to see it as impossible to escape him -- or maybe, he thought, that was a little odd. But never mind: He was going. :: :: For her part, it looked like some tears were starting to return, but she held them back. :: Rahman: I think some part of me hoped not. Del Vedova: Listen to the part, my friend. Now: Where. Are. We. Going? :: She thought for a moment, resting her chin on her hand. Then, another coy smile emerged. :: Rahman: Australia gets a lot of sun, doesn’t it? Del Vedova: You want to go home? :: His mouth hung open. Then, belatedly, he realized that he assumed: Australia wasn’t her home. :: Del Vedova: I mean, to my home? ::beat:: My old parents might be confused at first. You’re not exactly the son-in-law they expected. Rahman: Psh. And you think my parents are expecting your charming self to greet them at their door? :: But his eyes widened. Not in alarm, but with the light of an idea. :: Del Vedova: Hey, that’s a possibility, isn’t it? ::beat:: We do go home. Your home. Rahman: ::Her eyes widened.:: Oh, God. Del Vedova: ::nodding:: Yeah, it may seem that way. But, hey, I’m coming with you. You get to pick. Even if you want to pick my family. :: She sighed. There was only one way to solve this as far as she was concerned. :: Rahman: All right. Fine. We flip a combadge to decide. Heads, Australia. Tails, Lahore. Del Vedova: Sounds good to me. But how do I know you haven’t fixed yours, so it’s double-headed? :: She shook her head with a sigh before she leaned over and swiftly ripped the communicator off his chest, tossing it into the air. :: :: When it landed, they both peered over the edge of the couch to see who’d won. :: Del Vedova: ::beat:: I think I’ll have another glass. --- Lieutenant Commander Nic del Vedova, MD Emergency Medical Officer USS Garuda & Lieutenant Commander Roshanara Rahman, EngD Status: Unfit for Duty

((Underground Cave, Sotra)) :: The caves were designed to keep them hidden, sometimes it felt like it kept them hidden from themselves too. C'Lockyo had some interactions with others of her species, but they mostly seemed keen to stay to themselves. Her father was the last of her family to leave her alone, by herself in her corner of the caves when he died years earlier. :: Echo- S'kreel: Brothers, sisters do you feel it too? :: C'Lockyo did feel it, she last felt it as a young girl, a pull, where her dreams seemed real as she yearned for sunlight. When she woke in the night time, she'd find herself covered in burns, even though she never went out of her caves. Her father was concerned about her, never having seen it happen before. They'd put uakie balm on the burn, and it would be good by bed time for them. :: C'Lockyo: :: Moaning :: Yes... :: She hated that she could feel it, that when she went to sleep she would be searching for her father, calling out to him. "Papa..." She would say. When she finally found him, he was in a strange room, crying. :: (( Flashback - Dream memory )) :: Her mother was having another baby, and her father had been with her mother. They were set to be home any moment, when the scenery changed, and she was in what seemed to be an eating room, it was empty, except for some tables. She heard voices and hid behind one of the tables, that was where she stayed as her father conversed with someone else, who seemed like a doctor. When the man left, she saw her father collapse to the floor, a strange agony on his face. All she wanted to do was to comfort him. :: C'Lockyo: It's ok, Papa. I'm here. :: She moved closer to her crying father, who seemed surprised by her presence. She wasn't supposed to be there, she could tell that, but she wanted to be there for him, and she wanted to see the baby. C'Lockyo had no idea that her mother and the baby were gone, that this is what the doctor had told her father. He just looked at her in shock, like he didn't recognize her. :: C'Lockyo: Papa, it's me. .oO It's your little C'yo. I love you papa. Oo. :: She went to put her hands on his face, but then he shook his head and sobbed, she didn't understand why. :: Onil (Being seen as C'Lockyo's Father): No... It's not. This isn't...real. This isn't real. (( End flashback )) :: C'Lockyo knew that wasn't what happened all those years ago, after the cycle last hit them when her mother went away with the baby. But it seemed so real, like she was touching her father's face, and she could feel his tears. Her hands were even wet when she woke up. It was part of the cycle, she knew it. However, she also knew that memory well, she reached forward for her father's crying face, and he wrapped his arms around her burying his face into her little chest. Later she found that he did that because she was all he had left, and she tried to imagine it from her father's point of view so many times, but she didn't know what it felt like to need to hang onto the last thing you loved so that you wouldn't lose it, not until he passed. :: Echo- S'kreel: You feel it too? :: She didn't answer him that time, just merely went about taking care of the things she was charged with. :: MSNPC C'LockyoYoung woman, Species 1337as simmed by: Commander Shelther FaransterCommanding OfficerUSS Constitution-B, NCC-9012B

((Ten Forward)) ::Raissa found herself sitting in a corner of the room. Ten Forward was half empty with much of the crew on the station for shore leave. She ordered her usual tea as she tried to relax after a day full of appointments. For the time being her time was her own. Oddly enough she didn’t know what to do with it.:: ::She looked out the window. The planet below gleamed with heavenly light. She knew nothing about the world. She made a mental note to find out more about it. But the sight of it was wonderful. A few years ago she didn’t imagine she would be out in the galaxy seeing new worlds and meeting new races.:: ::Her family has supported her, cautiously at first. It was such a change from her original life path. She had trained under her Grandfather to be a shaman. To be a healer, not only of bodies but of minds. To use her gift to mend what was broken by time and trauma. Wounds that did not show on the outside:: ::She had been content with her life until one of her patients had revealed a greater world. His words had cracked the door in her mind of the desire to go further, to see more, do more. The process was smooth yet exciting. But there was one thing that had changed and nearly ended her happiness. The hurt of that fateful day stayed with her.:: ((Flashback)) ::Raissa walked in the tiny apartment she shared with her fiance, Evan Martin, brimming with excitement. She had already called her parents with the good news that her application had been accepted. They both had given her cautious approval, but that had done nothing to dampen her high spirits:: ::What she hadn’t expected was to see Evan off work standing by the window waiting for her. His handsome face was a mask of neutrality and Raissa began to feel the first stirring of doubt tapping at her heart:: Moonsong: I thought you had to work today. Martin: I took the day off. I received some news that was affecting my work. Moonsong: ::she frowned with concern:: What’s wrong? Martin: A call came in while you were out. Chappy in red, with..were those pips on the collar? 4 of ‘em? Moonsong: He found me at the Center. ::she referred to the outreach center she worked out of, helping older citizens deal with the changes in their lives. She smiled at him.:: I couldn’t believe they sent a captain…. He knew Colonel Merchant… ::She grinned wider:: I didn’t know the old man had sent a recommendation for me… Martin: Recommendation for what? You’re not telling me the guy who called was actually some sort of secret service agent or something….wait a second….new boyfriend? Moonsong: ::surprised:: Of course not, Evan. ::smiles:: Starfleet… They accepted my application to Starfleet. Colonel Merchant had more connections than I realized. Martin: For the love of...oh, hell. :: He sank into a chair, looking rather dejected. A conversation he had with a few folks who decided to join the military. He never thought his girl would be the one to drive the knife into his chest. :: Moonsong: ::The smile was fading from her lips:: Evan…. you knew I would apply… I know you weren’t happy about it… and neither of us thought I would get it… But I did. This is good news… We can be together and see the universe… Martin: You’ve been so passionate at work, and you never mentioned this guy. You never mentioned Colonel whats-his-name, you never mentioned that you’d even made any contacts. It seemed like you were so certain you wouldn’t get it and you honestly thought your app was lost in the queue trying to get in. Now you’re telling me all that’s… :: He couldn’t finish. He had a life here, and to be asked to throw all of that away just seemed like one massive uprooting he wasn’t able to handle. It hurt, so much to the point that he felt he’d cry in front of her and bit back a few tears. :: ::Raissa stared at him for a long moment as if seeing him for the first time. He was unaware that he was battering her with his emotion and she struggled to shield herself from it. She felt tears filling her own eyes. Things had been going so well between them.:: Moonsong: ::Her voice was subdued:: Colonel Merchant is a patient at the center. Retired marine. Coming to terms with his disability. He tells me stories about his time in Starfleet… good and bad. ::She hesitated:: Evan… this is a great opportunity… for both of us… can’t you see that? :: Evan made no reply. He lowered his head into his hands and was fighting his impulse to cry, not ready to leave everything he’d ever known. He had a job, friends, a stable apartment, and enough to get by moderately well. To leave all that behind was a sacrifice he was unable to handle. :: Moonsong: ::She moved closer to him, laying a hand on his forearm:: Love… Think about it… Something new and exciting. We’d still be together. We could get married before I leave… :: He looked up at her, meeting her gaze with eyes that conveyed worlds of hurt, his mind a chaotic trainwreck from being asked to make this ultimate sacrifice. What future would a simple auto mechanic have aboard a starship, anyway? He couldn’t face that truth. Or that future. Instead, he replied with only four words, very faint. :: Martin: I can’t….I’m sorry… ::Raissa stared at him in shock. Her hand jerked away as if she had been burned. Suddenly he was a stranger. All these years, how could it be she didn’t know him at all? She found herself stepping back.:: Moonsong: Won’t you even think about it? Martin: I…. :: He choked on his words. He didn’t know what to tell her. His eyes said it all -- that he was too rooted here to just rip it up and leave, like she seemed to be able to do. How could he have been so clueless that she was drifting farther away from him in the last couple of months to have not seen this coming? It didn’t matter now, he couldn’t finish his thought. His head went back into his hands, and he kept silent. :: Moonsong: ::She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat:: You won’t consider it, will you? :: She gestured at the walls around them:: This is enough for you.. This life… ::She closed her eyes against the tears she wouldn’t give in to:: How could I be so wrong….? ((End Flashback)) ::Raissa looked at her cold tea on the table in front of her. It had been five years since she and Evan had spoken. She had moved out of the apartment than night and stayed with her parents until she left for the academy.:: ::She had avoided relationships from that point on. Being a counselor was an effective way to keep a distance between herself and others, but now, it was no longer enough for her. Carter was nothing like Evan. He had ambitions. Transferring to engineering was something that clearly made him happy. Despite her shields, she could feel his growing excitement over something new.:: ::Abruptly she shook her head:: oO [...] it! Stop thinking about him. He and Skyfire are probably an item now! Oo. ::Raissa pushed aside her tea and got to her feet. She had only talked to the man twice and once was a patient. She also told him to pursue another relationship. What the hell did she expect?:: ::She needed a distraction and fast. There was only one thing to do. Shop.:: ==== Lt. (j.g.) Raissa Moonsong Counselor USS Garuda Special Guest star: NPC Evan Martin simmed by Lieutenant Chythar Skyfire Acting CMO USS Garuda NCC 73809

(( Mei’konda’s Quarters, USS Garuda )) NAUGHTON: All right, I believe that's more than enough. ::He looked at Mei'konda.:: I look forward to a copy of that report. :: The Caitian nodded as Roshanara remained silent, looking down now at the floor. :: MEI'KONDA: All riight, Lieutenant. I will forwaard the report to you. :: When she finally looked up again, she saw the man catch her eyes. They both looked rather miserable, so she attempted a reassuring smile. If it were anything like the reflection of one he offered back, she hadn't been successful. :: RAHMAN: But thank you again, commander. I'm glad after everything I haven't lost all of your respect. MEI'KONDA: You haaven’t, Doctorr... when it comes down to it, Ross betraayed everyone he served wiith, hurt us, nearrly killed Captaain Reynolds... for what reason, I do not know. :: Perhaps they would never know. She frowned again. :: MEI'KONDA: But you diid the opposite. Even faacing a court martial, you riisked your life to save your crewmaates. That means a lot. And it is why I am williing to testify on your behaalf. :: She fought with every last bit of strength to maintain her composure. She wasn't going to falter now. Not in front of her former shipmate, and certainly not in front of Lieutenant Naughton. Still, the slight unsteadiness in her voice betrayed her. :: RAHMAN: I appreciate that. MEI’KONDA: Of course... If I am called to the staand, I hope it haappens soon. You may have been exploited, but you belong in this uniform. :: The sad smile returned, and she followed him as he escorted them to the corridor. As he stood at the doorway, she turned to him and he gave a final nod. She realized then that this might be the last chance she'd get to see him on the Garuda. She glanced over at the JAG officer. :: RAHMAN: Lieutenant, I'd appreciate a final moment with the commander. In private. :: Naughton exchanged glances between the three of them before letting out a sigh. :: NAUGHTON: Very well. I'll wait for you at the end of the corridor. Don't make it too long of a wait, doctor. :: After he had passed through, the former chief engineer looked back at the Caitian. :: RAHMAN: I remember when you first came aboard. How, when you suddenly found your new senior staff were about to embark on a bit of an "excursion" to help one of our shipmates, you felt uncomfortable and decided to stay behind. That was the right choice for you then. Don't ever think otherwise. But I think you understand now why we were willing to do what we did for one of our own. :: Roshanara paused for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. She needed to tell him one more thing. :: RAHMAN: One of the most rewarding aspects of this job is helping the next line of officers under your command develop from fresh-faced graduates to seasoned officers. :: She gave a final nod. :: It was a privilege and an honor, commander. Take care of the next line. ==== Lieutenant Commander Roshanara Rahman Under Arrest Awaiting Transfer to SB118 JAG

((Holodeck, USS Mercury)) ::It had been a tedious process, clearing up the Mercury. The fact that it had barely made it to DSX in one piece showed just how skilled the Engineers that put her together in the first place actually were. But now, it was Tristam's Engineering department fixing her up, getting her into a stable condition. ::The Oracle class ship's situation reminded him of how he had been stuck in a medical facility, doctors constantly working over him. The Mercury was in just as bad a shape as he had been. The only difference is that Tristam didn't know how the Mercury had gotten into this situation in the first place.:: ::The ship stable enough to have more than two teams aboard, the Rodulan had gotten to work on the holograms. They hadn't been causing any trouble recently - a few had reactivated somehow, and instead of making a nuisance of themselves, they actually assisted with repairs. Some of his teams hadn't been aware they weren't the real people, and something told Tristam that it was probably better that they didn't know. But their kindness didn't mean he didn't have to deactivate them. Until he could work out their reason for existing, he couldn't fully trust the programs. ::Surprisingly, the majority had accepted that.:: ::Tristam was up to his final few holograms. The plan had been to deactivate the operating ones, shift them onto a hard-drive separate from that of the computer core. Some of the holograms had been pretty nice to talk to, others were . . . less happy about the situation.:: Blake: Take one step towards the console and I'll fire. ::Tristam froze up, his hand clenching the PADD with the holograms details, flashing back to the situation with Rahman occurring only days before. Glancing up, he took a good look at the phaser in her hand. Type two, by the looks of things. Tristam couldn't make out what setting it was on, but he wasn't at all keen to find out. He dropped the PADD, putting his hand up in front of him, taking a step away from the console. He was cautious - he didn't want to die today, after everything that had happened, all because a hologram decided that she wanted to blow him to bits.:: Core: Okay. What are you going to shoot me for? ::She seemed to hesitate a little, eyes hard on the Rodulan and eyes blinking back tears.:: Blake: I read my file. ::Uh oh.:: ::Having heard about Alpha team's dealing with her, Tristam did that too. Sky Blake, previously holding the rank of Lieutenant Commander prior to resigning from Starfleet. Pretty interesting record, in Tristam's opinion. Blake had been all over the place behavioral-wise right up until her first-born - a daughter; Faith Blake. To make matters more interesting, Blake had apparently been pregnant with Faith whilst on board the Mercury, but Tristam couldn't see a baby bump on this holographic version. ::Had the Mercury taken that away in it's bid to do whatever it had wanted to do?:: Core: Was it a good read? Blake: After the Mercury, Lieutenant Commander Sky Blake served at the Embassy of Duronis II - Chief of Security, USS Avandar - Chief of Security, Second officer and Acting First Officer for a short period of time, and then on the Vigilant back as Security and Tactical. Resigned on stardate 239103.03, citing the need to spend more time with her growing family. ::*Growing* family.:: ::Tristam, remaining silent, could see more cracks in her composure, the hand clasped around the phaser shaking a little as she tried to regain her own composure. He frowned a little - how did the Mercury's computer lose control over its own holograms? Was she *programmed* to do this? Better yet, how had she managed to access her own file when her credentials shouldn't have been recognized? Had the Mercury changed that too? Reinstated Blake's old Lieutenant credentials?:: Blake: A few dents and bruises, but an otherwise great record. And a great woman, too, apparently. Core: I'm sure she was. Blake: Did you know I had a family? ::This was rocky territory here. As it was, the hologram was already unstable - open *that* can of worms, and she might just all out break. ::Then again, Blake breaking herself could just be the malfunction he needed to hit the deactivate button on that console . . . :: Core: Yes. A daughter - Faith, I think her name was. You were due to be married to Lieutenant Sabor, Vulcan Armory officer aboard the Vigilant. ::There was another pause as this sunk in, and Tristam took a different route - to either talk her down, or push her towards self-malfunction.:: Core: What do you remember? Before everything? ::It was a silly assumption, thinking that the hologram may share some of the actual Blake's memories, but it was worth a shot. Maybe the Mercury knew more than it was meant to – maybe Blake was quite detailed in her personal logs. ::She took a few seconds to respond, her eyes finally removing themselves from Tristam, glancing around the room in an effort to form words.:: Blake: I was . . . on the asteroid. We were inside the cave, and I was first to be beamed aboard. That was stardate 238902.08. I remember arriving in the transporter room, and then demanding to be beamed to the Bridge . . . but after that . . . it's . . . ::There was another pause.:: I don't remember getting onto the Bridge. I remember waking up in my office, knowing that we had intruders aboard. ::That explained why she was wearing a long field jacket - a very dusty long field jacket. It was relatively reasonable to assume that her character had been "borrowed" from the transporter log from that stardate. The Mercury must have tweaked certain things.:: Blake: I just . . . accepted that . . . that the new one was in command, and that we had a job to do. I didn't even question were any of them were – Tallis, Reed, Ba'Eli . . . Parker . . . ::Saying that last name caused her some form of pain, Tristam could tell. Parker. Why did *that* name ring a bell. Was it from her file? A recent message on the subspace notice boards? One of the online forums message?:: Core: I'm not familiar with Parker. Blake: Mercury's First Officer. Or, at least, he *was*. He's FO at the Duronis II Embassy now. ::*That* was where he had heard the name - the Mercury's crew history, and a complaint about the armament of the ship. Blake was under the impression that it was early, early 2389. Where was Tristam at this point in time? He would have been on DS17, coming off his medical leave. ::Not that it was all that important. He needed Blake to drop the [...] phaser in her hand so that he could walk away with all his limbs intact. Before he could get another word in, however, she started speaking again.:: Blake: I *died*! Over *three months ago*! ::Tristam looked down at his feet. So the hologram had found that small piece of information at the very bottom of her file, too. That dreaded word in red writing. “Deceased”, it had said. It probably even stated cause of death, but Tristam had been quick to close the file as soon as he saw the red.:: Core: I'm sorry. ::He couldn't think of anything else to say, and he knew nothing that would have put the hologram to ease. Tristam didn't know the real Sky Blake. He knew that Sky Blake was a Brekkian Betazoid hybrid. She was born on Brekka. Her parents were scientists. She had a daughter, and possibly another child. She was due to be married. She had been 28 years old when she died. But he didn't know *her*. What he knew of her on a personal level was coming from this hologram – this only remaining walking and talking reminder that she was once a person, and not just a file in the Starfleet database. ::Because of this hologram, he knew that Sky Blake's green eyes were one of her most striking features. He knew that her hair was not naturally blonde, and that she may once have been a brunette. They were small details, very easy to miss when skimming a personnel file.:: Blake: I died of a brain aneurysm. ::she paused, and laughed once.:: After years of getting beat up, stabbed and shot at, I die of a brain aneurysm. ::It was as if she was simply born to die.:: Core: I'm sorry. Blake: Stop saying you're sorry! You said you don't know who I am! That you've never met me! ::He must have just missed her when he was posted on the Vigilant. He now suddenly wished that he had left DS17 a few days earlier, that he hadn't procrastinated and deliberately missed his first transport, so that he could have possibly met her. Just for this specific moment, so that he could talk holo-Blake down, comfort her in some sort of way.:: Core: You're right. I've never met nor seen you my entire life. ::pause:: But I know you – this . . . version of you. May-maybe that's why the Mercury made you. ::Tristam didn't know what he was doing, making the words up as he went along, hoping they'd form something that'd make Blake drop her phaser or at least back off a few steps.:: Blake: You're saying that my ship brought me back as a hologram because it missed me? Core: It's a possibility. The Mercury couldn't bring you back in person, so it brought you back the best way it could. In holographic form. To let you do your job, like you did back in 2389. Maybe to give you a second chance, maybe as a form of nostalgia. Maybe you were the only one that could have done the job you did, the only one with a strong enough mindset. Blake: You mean the only one to bully other holograms into that sensor pod. ::Well, that at least explained a few of the "dead" holograms.:: Core: You didn't know. You weren't supposed to know. Blake: And that makes all this easier, does it? Core: It was supposed to. You weren't supposed to know about the real Blake – you were made to assume her position, believe you were her, copy her attitude, looks, anything about her that made Skyleena Blake. It's all a piece of a very large puzzle, one that we're still trying to put together. ::Finally, she dropped the phaser, and it was then that Tristam realized that the phaser hadn't been powered at all.:: Blake: So what now? After everything I've done? Blown up parts of my own ship, killed people - real and holographic and deceived your crew. What's to become of me? ::Tristam sighed. Her admission of blowing up bits of the Mercury made his arm ache.:: Core: Your program wasn't designed for self-awareness. ::None of them were. Over the last several hours, he'd watched a few holograms corrupt themselves just at the thought of them being sentient. But Blake seemed to be handling it pretty well. He'd have to check her actual readings before any real assumption could be made, though.:: Core: I don't think taking the place of real Blake would be wise, either. ::No, that would just end in a lot of conversations he didn't want to have to participate in.:: Core: I can keep you on the Garuda, work something out for you. Blake: You can do that? ::She seemed rather skeptical, and Tristam gave her a slight shrug of his fully functioning shoulder.:: Core: I'm Chief Engineer of a Galaxy class starship. I think I'm up for a few personal privileges. Especially after this week. ::Actually, he really kind of deserved a medal after putting up with all the destruction the Garuda has brought him. But really, what was to become of Blake? Of all of the holograms? It didn't feel right to leave them on a hard-drive, orders from the higher-ups or not. They were, after all, beings. He frowned a little at his own thoughts - thinking about holographic sentience made his head hurt, especially since many people were willing to put forward just how easy it was to compare a hologram with that of a hyperspanner. He gave a slight huff before he delivered his next words.:: Core: I know it might sound offensive, but if I made you a personal project of mine - no one else involved whatsoever, I think we could make this work. ::But for what? How was this any use at all for him and the holographic Blake? He might as well just put her image in a picture frame, stand there and admire it - it'd do more good than any sort of project he thought of that he could involve her in.:: Blake: What, me be a side project, just waiting for you to show up every day and turn me on? Sit there and stare at me, wondering how to "fix" me? Core:::shaking his head.:: Not fix you. ::She stared at him, crossing her arms.:: Blake: *What*, then? Core: I don't know. But you fixed yourself somehow. The command to protect the Mercury is probably still there, sure, but you're not directed at the wrong people anymore - otherwise you would have shot me first chance you got. Maybe there's something in this universe that you could do. ::There was a pause between them as she processed what he said, tightening her arms.:: Blake: Why? Why do you have this . . . hope? You don't even know me. Core: I'm an Engineer. When somethings broken, we fix it. If its running at top performance, we keep it there. If we fail at something, we keep trying until it kills us. It's just what we do. Tbc . . . LtCmdr Tristam CoreChief Engineer USS Garuda

((Sickbay, USS Columbia)) ::A sonic shower was an abomination of nature, some genetic anomaly that had taken the shower and transformed it into some medical, hygienic necessity. On the Starbase, Chelsea had been able to get a real water shower on occasion and while it did take longer and make much more of a mess, it was a therapy that she rather looked forward to after a long, hard week. The warmth, the pitter-patter of small droplets against her skin and the floor, they were wonderful.:: ::In this moment, a real shower was a medical necessity, although nobody with actual medical expertise had seemed to agree with her. Instead, she had been run through some decontamination procedure that left her feeling more like a science experiment than a victim of post-traumatic stress. "Making the best of it" was the order of the day, and while she was - still - only half-way through the procedure, at least now all of that residue had been cleaned off of her. She caught an occasional whiff of manure from time to time, despite the medical staff's assurance that it was all in her mind.:: ::She was just placing her commbadge back onto her newly replicated uniform when it chirped.:: Connory: =/\= Connory to Ames =/\= Ames: =/\= You startled me, sir. I'm here. =/\= ::She smiled as she said it. How was it that this officer, she actually felt she could talk to? She'd felt that way once before, back when she worked with Livingston on that ...:: ::The thought floated away, willed away by the same mind that had brought it unbidden to her conscious thought. She sighed as Ian continued. Maybe someday she'd remember that differently. Or not remember it at all.:: Connory: =/\= How are you doing with the Health-less Holstein and the cattle cadaver? =/\= ::A shiver pulsed through her as he spoke, rattling her. After a hot shower, she'd be still in that afterglow of warmth when nothing could go now. Sonic showers offered no such lingering protection from the world; she was thrust back into its harshness. That stink returned.:: Ames: =/\= I'd like not to think about it, Ensign Connory. Anyway, after I beamed it to sickbay's isolation unit, I figured I would never need to see the thing again. =/\= oO Good riddance. Oo Connory: =/\= Good thinking, Wait. You beamed them where? =/\= ::She slipped her shoes back on as she spoke, and headed back out to main sickbay where she'd been instructed to wait.:: Ames: =/\= Well I couldn't move it on my own - sickbay is set up perfectly for this, after all. Let the science department worry about it. It's not our oO job Oo area of expertise. =/\= Connory: =/\= No don't worry I'm sure that'll be fine. oOI hope. Oo Commander Brek is trying to see if there is a vet among the colonists. 'Til then hold tight and make sure the containment fields hold. =/\= Ames: =/\= They'll hold. I will personally reroute power from whatever systems are necessary to ensure that that thing stays in there, where we're safe from it. =/\= ::From her perch up on a biobed, she watched as nurses passed back and forth. One stopped to take her vitals, and as she breathed deeply in and out upon request, Connory continued. She wondered, was he always this chatty? Or was he keeping her occupied for some other reason? It occurred to her that he was probably trying to do her a service, keeping her mind off of the incident. Although it did seem to be what he kept talking about; the theory seemed not to hold water after all.:: Connory: =/\=Oh and Ames good work. First round is definitely on me. After you clean up that is.=/\= Ames: =/\= Thank you. I'll need a drink after this. I'm only half-way through their battery of tests, and I'd much rather just get to take a little nap. =/\= Connory: response ::She gave a small smile, and the nurse left her to compile some more data. What was in all those charts?:: Ames: =/\= I need a bacon cheeseburger. =/\= ::She imagined biting into that big, juicy sandwich. The bacon smelled as it always did, that wonderful aroma of perfect happiness, and she could feel her teeth sinking into a big, puffy bun and into -- :: Bacon Cheeseburger: Moo. ::With a start, Chelsea snapped out of the daydream she'd fallen into. Hands spread for support on the biobed behind her, she shivered from the cold sweat that had broken out on her brow. Burgers hadn't been made from actual cows in a century - at least not on Starfleet vessels. But there it had been. She'd seen it, heard it. It could not be unseen. The cold sweat returned as she realized the inevitable.:: Ames: =/\= Oh. Oh, no. I may never have a burger again. I think I may become a ... a vegetarian. I need to lie down.=/\= Connory: response ::Their conversation ended cordially, and Chelsea laid down. What would it take to undo this damage? What was the point of going to the Galactic Halo now? She'd just be conversing and eating a vegetable platter. Was there no mercy in this world?:: ----- Crewman Chelsea Ames Operations USS Columbia NCC-85279 As simmed by Commander Ben Livingston Commanding Officer USS Columbia NCC-85279