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  1. An excellent post by Ensign @Geoffrey Teller on board Veritas. Coffee aficionados of the world, unite! ((OOC: During shoreleave, a few days after the awards ceremony)) ::Between the full repair schedule and the personal project Teller had been working on, he hadn't had much time for sleep in the last few days. Exhausted and wiping his hands on his crumpled uniform pants, Teller took a moment to look around the converted conference room that had so occupied his waking hours with a smile. The place didn't look like much yet, but the parts he'd been able to scrounge or build had come together nicely and the crew had been enthusiastic to help. A few empty transport crates stacked two high and three across serving as the bar at the rear of the room, with folding chairs and transport crates covered in spare emergency blankets serving as seating around the room. A large, stylized rendition of the Vertias itself was stenciled on the bulkhead covering the rear wall and, Teller hoped, caught the eye as you walked in. It would distract from the otherwise utilitarian setting, at least until they made their way to the serving station. Teller inspected the converted atmospheric pressure monitoring gear anxiously, making sure the unusual array of tubing and cables still didn't show any signs of leakage or trouble. Content that things were as ready as they could be, Teller headed behind the bar into the small hydroponics bay he'd created out of a disused storage closet. Teller smiled at the small bushes which had already born their first seeds, the very same ones that were rattling through a combination tumbler/roaster he had assembled out of a geological mineral analysier that had been slated to get reclaimed for replication mass. The room smelled of nutrient fluid and the bright lights were well balanced for the needs of growing plants, but Teller could already see he'd need to expand this part of the shop soon or they'd be opening a new arboretum on this deck. The beds themselves were amazing technology and had cut the growing time of the trees to a tiny fraction of what they'd need in soil on a planet, he just hoped it wouldn't affect the flavor badly. As he inspected the readouts on the hydroponic beds the tumbler/roaster chirped successfully and ejected a vacuum sealed canister out one side. Teller looked at it apprehensively. Either this canister would contain the thing he'd been desperate for since he came aboard or it was another failed experiment and he'd have to try again with a completely new batch. Opening the seal gingerly, Teller took a tentative whiff of the freshly roasted beans, judging their color and casing with a practiced eye. Eyes widening in surprise as the heady aroma of the caffeol, Teller smiled widely.:: oO Oh these will do just fine. These smell better than anything the replicator can spit out on its best day.Oo ::Teller took the beans back to the bar in the main room and poured a portion into the grinder he'd assembled. One part modified ore sample processor thanks to a colonist on Havelys Hope, one part molecular analyser lifted from the remains of a tricorder, the grinder automatically calibrated itself to produce a grind perfectly tailored to the bean, not too fine or coarse, or so Teller hoped. He had started this project with nothing much more than the dream of a decent cup of coffee on his mind but, like most projects, this one had sprawled and took on a life of its own as soon as he started building. Tapping the controls on the side, the grinder whirred to life and began crumbling the beans down into a fine powder. While he waited, Teller resealed the precious beans into their storage container and tapped a few buttons on his makeshift pressurized water pump and brought the temp to 91c and the pressure to 58kg.:: oO I'm going to need to train a team of monkeys to run all this for me, or I'm going to need to get to my shift an hour early. I wonder if anybody on this ship knows how to run a bar. Maybe once these poor people have a real cup of coffee, they'll start lining up to do it. Yeah, right.Oo ::The grinder completed its work and dispensed a perfectly formed puck into the waiting filter basket with a chime, smoothly tamping down the edges into what used to be a biological sample collector, now re-purposed. Lifting it away from the grinder and connecting it to the pump, Teller was pleased to see his machining skills hadn't degraded in his time at the academy. The flush connection between the pieces looked perfect and Teller could see no liquid or steam leaking from the seams. Teller went to draw the first shot but then realized he had forgotten something critical.:: oO I didn't make any mugs! Replicator has made me lazy, it always provides the cup and the drink at the same time. Hmm... Oo ::Teller walked to the replicator embedded in the wall and considered his options briefly. The catalog had a wide variety of cups and containers he could choose from already on file and with time, he could design and fabricate his own design from scratch. Looking around the room again with a smile, his sights set on the stylized Veritas behind the bar.:: Teller: Computer, load image file 'Teller theta six one.' Resize and apply it to mug design sixteen, variant c and produce two dozen, half tumbler sized, half full sized. Execute. ::The computer churned on the request for a moment and then materialized a tray of mugs, each bearing the artistic Veritas in silver on the black vaccum flasks. Teller was pleased, these would keep peoples coffee piping hot all day and wouldn't spill on a duty station due to their sealed lids and adhesive base. He hoped the Captain wouldn't mind the bit of artistic license. Lifting the tray, he returned to the bar and stashed the mugs underneath. Setting the pump for a quadruple shot, he placed a small shot glass under the dispenser and hit the switch with crossed fingers. Within moments, the rich aroma of dark brewed coffee began to fill the small space and Tellers smile spread further. Checking the pressure gauge, Teller was pleased that the deeply re-purposed gear was performing as hoped and within 20 seconds, the very first real shot of espresso ever brewed aboard this ship was ready for him:: oO Looks good...got three bands of color from light to dark, a nice crema on the top...nice even blend. Only one thing left to do. Oo ::Teller inhaled the aroma of the shot with a happy sigh, brought it too his lips and took a hesitant sip which quickly turned into a desperate gulp.:: oO Perfection. Absolute heaven in a cup. I haven't had a cup this good since I left the yards. Old Jan would be proud. Oo ::Energized by his success, Teller began drawing additional shots into the newly printed mugs. Teller briefly considered making a cappuccino or a cortado, or even a 'Vulcan Hello,' but stopped himself. He had traded for some 'milk' from the colonists as well but he didn't think he was up to that much experimentation just yet, especially when the coffee itself had come out so perfectly.:: oO Alright, I need to make good on my promise now that I'm relatively sure this won't kill anybody. Oo ::Senses buzzing with the infusion of caffeine, Teller finished making drinks and shut down the apparatus. Putting the pump and grinder into a cleaning cycle so they'd be ready for the next customer, Teller looked around his little contribution to ships morale with a deep sense of satisfaction. Teller decided now was as good a time as any.:: Teller: Computer, where's the Captain? Computer: The Captain is in her quarters. Teller: =/\= Teller to Captain Rahman =/\= Rahman: =/\= Response =/\= Teller: =/\= Sorry to disturb you Captain. Wanted you to be the first to know I've completed the project we discussed at the party and I've got some very promising results I'd like to share. =/\= Rahman: =/\= Response =/\= Teller: =/\= Understood Captain, I'll be right there. Teller out. =/\= ::Teller grabbed two of the sealed mug and the vacuum sealed container of beans, then headed out of the converted conference room.:: oO I really need to think of a name for this place. Maybe...Veritas Brewing? Nah. Core Breach Coffee? Nah. Warp Plasma Roasters? Damn, this was going to be harder than building the place. Oo ::Teller headed to the turbolift at the end of the hall, whistling off key to himself, an extra bounce in his step.:: ((A few minutes later, Outside Captain Rahman's Quarters)) oO Hope she likes strong coffee. This stuff could take the paint of a hullplate but damn if it isn't tasty. Oo ::Teller depressed the call button on the Captains door and was asked inside. The Captain was at her desk working, a cup of replicated coffee cooling at her side. She stopped working on her console long enough to look up at the diminutive Ensign and the items he was cradling. Teller snapped to attention as if in a parade line.:: Teller: Captain, thanks for letting me run with this. I hope you're as happy with the result as I am. ::Teller placed one of the vacuum sealed tumblers on the Captains desk reverently and took a respectful step back.:: Teller: What do you think, Captain? Good enough for the Veritas? Rahman: Response Tags & TBC =============================== Ensign Geoffrey Teller USS Veritas - NCC 95035 Capt. R. Rahman, Commanding V239509GT0
  2. John Williams

    Lt Cmdr T'Lea

    @T'Lea Wrote two wonderful joint posts together. An outstanding writer.
  3. ((Poseidon's Lounge, Deck 2, USS Atlantis)) ((OOC: Day 1 of leave evening hours.)) Raga: Careful, Valin. That's the spiciest dish my people make. Unless you want your own exhaust manifold cleaned for the rest of eternity, you might want to avoid it. ::The Al-leyan grabbed a plate for himself and joined Dermont at the buffet. The engineer gave a big grin at his best friend on board the Atlantis and ladled even more into the bowl. There was no doubt Raga was right, but there was just something about being told he shouldn't that just made his want it all the more.:: Dermont: Bah, Toryn. Have faith in yer good buddy... Raga: Oh I do. I have faith that that will send you to sickbay. ::He chuckled:: ::Dermont's plate was now stacked high and he thermos was tucked under one arm. He carefully balanced his food and with one free hand pointed a finger at the other man.:: Dermont: Don't ya think I've fergotten yer little mutiny either, lad. Raga: Mutiny? What in the winds are you talking about, Valin? Dermont: You in cahoots with sickbay gettin' me in fer mah physical. I know ya were in on it. Just been thinkin' on an appropriate response. Can't let ya go unscathed now can I? ::Watching the Al-Leyan go stone-faced on him was all the admission of guilt Dermont needed. He glanced at the owl-bird-thing perched on his friend's shoulder. Even her expression seemed suddenly stiff. It was like the two of them practiced in the mirror together. Dermont slowly guided the conversation towards an empty table.:: Raga: I have no idea what you're talking about. I would never need to use such underhanded tactics to get the Chief Engineer to report for his physical knowing he a responsible, Starfleet officer who would never shirk his mandated duties by creating problems with the ship he feels compelled to fix on his own when he has an entire department of engineers to delegate the work to. Because he trusts them to know how to fix their own ship to his highest of standards. ::Dermont narrowed his eyebrows and gave the Security Chief a hard stare. The man wasn't giving anything away, but the engineer would swear the other was attempting to be funny. The terran leaned in closer, seeing if Toryn's mask would slip. Without taking his eyes off of him, Dermont began to stuff his face with a biscuit, smacking loudly. Nope, nothing. Spitting crumbs in the security officer's direction, Dermont relented a bit.:: Dermont: Well, o'course not. Yer Mister Shinin' Example. That'd be a terrible thang ta do ta yer good friend Dermont. Causin' him ta need all sortsa nonsensical tests and pokes and prods. Ye'd never do anything ta bring 'bout such hazards to poor lil ole me. Bah...what was I thinkin'? Yer too good a soul fer such antics! Knight, maybe...never Mr. Raga.... ::The other man just took another sip of his damn tea and said nothing. He wondered how long they'd play this game, but before they could find out a voice cut through the air. It was a beautiful voice that brought a sad smile to this face. He couldn't help but stop his eating and just listen. He had no clue what she was saying, but somehow the words cut straight to his soul. He just sat there when it was over as all around him applause broke out. Toryn's elbow brought him back to the here and now.:: Raga: That was beautiful. Dermont: Aye it was. ::He banged his thermos on the table as way of adding to the applause.:: ::A clanging of a utensil on glass cut through the clapping, and the first officer addressed the crowd.:: Williams: ::Raising his voice slightly:: My dear shipmates. I am pleased to see you all here. As you can see and hear we have a ship of many talented people. Although we only know each other for a year, and some only for a few days, we still have much to explore. This quadrant has its mysteries but so do the wonderful people we work with. The singing skills of Ensign Maeli here are but an example. I hope we can do this more often. A talent show like the old days on Earth might be a bit overkill but if you want to interest your fellow crewmates into a hobby we could have a monthly entertainment evening or something. Right captain? Brell: ::Responding loud enough for the room to hear.:: Agreed! We must remember to pursue our off duty passions, and share them with fellow shipmates. Williams: That settles it then. I want you all to enjoy your evening tonight. Relax, feast and enjoy! That’s an order! Brell: Just don’t go anywhere, In about an hour I have a few surprises to share. ::As if in challenge, another song picked up and carried over the party. He instantly recognized the tune as a Klingon one. In face, he himself had sung it on more than one occasion on board the Endurance. His Klingon crewman had taught all of them many a song while drinking their evenings away on whatever local pub their freighter parked in orbit over. Dermont had to grin as he listened to the Klingons and their Worene companion carry on with what must have been a slightly intoxicated enthusiasm.:: ::A glance over at his friend revealed that Klingon drinking songs did not elicit the same warm memories. He knew that Toryn had a troubled past with the Klingons, and did not hold the feelings against him. They had cost his brother his life, much as the Romulans had taken Dermont's old crew from him. However, his was the superior officer of one of the two officers and outranked both of them. If Dermont could hold it in and not shoot Danara or Serala on sight, Toryn could reign it in. Of course, he had noticed the Al-leyan's temper had become much shorter as of late. But that was a whole other mess...:: oO Which is perhaps a good reason ta shoot Serala...heritage aside... Oo Dermont: Perhaps ye'd best leave the scowlin' of junior officers ta me, eh? Raga: Huh? Bad enough having one of them on board. Now there's two. ::He said with far more spite in his tone than he would have expected to hear.:: Dermont: Rein it in....Lieutenant. One of those lads calls you a superior officer.... ::Another song from the Rodulan and their first officer. Despite himself, Dermont found himself enjoying the evening. Of course everything hurt and he was so tired he couldn't help but stifle another yawn...but still. Enjoyable. His eyes couldn't help was wander on the group and he spied Serala enjoying the singing as well. Which made it his turn to scowl. He still wasn't convinced that she wasn't under some sort of mind compulsion. The scans he had covertly taken of her and her husband had revealed a large presence of mental stimulation, as well as increased levels of dopamine during said stimulation. Perhaps she was being brainwashed...:: oO She had better hope she is...fer her sake... Oo ::Dermont couldn't help but look over at Toryn. The poor lad had been finally struggling past his own brainwashing due to his bloody heritage to try and tell Serala how he felt and then she went an got married! Without warning. It had crushed his soul. And while Dermont had just overcome to own prejudices to start calling Serala a friend, he couldn't see past such as transgression against Toryn. There was just no way the damn woman didn't know how Raga had felt. Their junior officers had known it, everybody had known it. The watched the bird peck at Toryn.:: Dermont: Is yer bird thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? Now yer hidin' from her? From her?! She should be on bended knee tryin' ta make amends! ::Dermont had been in a biobed at the end of the mission, on a Romulan Warbird. Then he had been stuck in Jefferies' Tubs since he had gotten back...he had not yet heard any gossip about the two of them.:: Raga: Valin, please it's fine. I need to stay away from her for a while. The cloud messed us both up and she's dealing with what happened. Besides. ::He turned to face the grizzled engineer:: I think things between Lael and I are going well. So, I have someone to focus on as well. oO Happened? Somethin' happened... Oo ::But the mention of Lael brought an even deeper scowl to the engineer's face. Lieutenant Commander Lael Rosek, Chief Engineer of the USS Veritas. Half Al-Leyan, and a pain in Dermont's [...] by proxy. She was a woman in a relationship...who had spun into Raga's life and turned it upside down. He had taken great pains to know as much about this woman as he could. And he didn't like her not one bit.:: Dermont: Bah, damn pain in mah [...]... Raga: Why do you not like Lael so much? oO Fair question... Oo Dermont: Hmmm...ya know, it was originally because I was rootin' on ya endin' up with someone from the home team. ::He put up a hand before the emotions rolled out of Toryn.:: I had me heart set on you and that damn Romulan. As far as I'm concerned, that's still the safe bet, despite current events. And this damn Lael just swoops in and put yer heart all a'tangled. And unless yer plannin' on playin' third wheel, doesn't she have a man already? ::The engineer knew that many cultures didn't not practice monogamy, and Al-Leyans sometimes needed to have intercourse with literally the first Al-Leyan of the opposite sex they could find. So perhaps that wasn't as important to them. But dammit, Dermont was a human and Lael was half-human and he doubted his current partner wasn't going to be keen on Toryn climbing under the sheets.:: Raga: response Dermont: Yer so wrapped up in all of this...can ye just take a step back...from all of it. Just fer a bit. Ye've got so much drama fer a man without any ex-wives... Raga: response ::Dermont was a very overprotective friend. He knew he had his nose firmly where it didn't belong, but he had no plans on removing it any time soon. The more angry or embarrassed or depressed Raga become the more the old Terran was going to latch on. He'd drag the damn Al-Leyan boy to the other side of this mess one way or the other.:: ================= Lieutenant Valin Dermont Chief Engineer USS Atlantis A239410VD0
  4. (OOC: I have simmed in this region, on that station, with these characters. For me, the prologue to the Veritas's latest mission was incredibly powerful) Part 1 Previously: https://fednewsservice.com/2018/10/18/federation-council-announces-sanctions-romulan-star-empire-failed-duronis-invasion/ https://fednewsservice.com/2018/10/24/romulan-star-empire-withdraws-support-astrofori-one-response-federation-sanctions/ ((Astrofori One, Menthar Corridor)) ::It was an otherwise normal day on Astrofori One for the command deck. Minor docking disputes were at a minimum, no diplomatic incidents of note, and all of Starfleet contingent seemed to be in perfect condition - minus the flu outbreak medical staff were currently dealing with.:: :: In the office of Cassandra Egan Manno, mission commander for Starfleet’s presence on Astrofori One, things were much as they usually were--which was to say, somewhere between “busy” and “crazy.” This morning, “busy” seemed to be the order of the day, which was just fine with Cassie. The past few days had seen a contingent of screeching Peppalexan monks visit the station, a trade conference that ate up most of the Comm Quad, and the Klingon holiday of Qo'bo'val--which, while interesting, had taken over six different entertainment establishments with the ritual reenactment of Kahless’s fight against Molor. :: So, all things considered, a regular “busy” was just fine with Cassie. :: Her aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Commander Gnisky, sauntered in a few minutes after Cassie arrived on duty, which was always a good sign. Gnisky wasn’t in any hurry, and that boded well for the rest of Cassie’s day. :: Egan Manno: Today’s the day we’re welcoming the Cardassian poet? Gnisky: And attending her reading tonight, Captain. Plus, there’s the committee. :: Cassie did her best not to groan. The committee, which was overseeing the gathering of several dozen delegates to discuss the impact of Federation terraforming practices on type-O worlds, was the one thing she continued for forget about. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested, just that others took care of all the details, and what she couldn’t do herself, she forgot at once. :: Egan Manno: Is there a meeting today? Gnisky: Tomorrow. But the organizing committee would like you sign off on forty-three of the proposals before then. Egan Manno: Tag them for me, alright? I’ll take a look this afternoon. :: Gnisky gave a nod and a knowing smile and bowed herself back out of Cassie’s office, while Cassie turned to her massive pile of unanswered comms and notes. Time, once again, to bail that sinking ship. :: ((Bridge, USS Minerva, on patrol along Astrofori One defense perimeter)) ::Captain Kaneshiro Tatsuya of the Minerva sat watch in his chair, not that there was much to watch with the screen showing only endless black space. The mood on the bridge of the Veritas class ship was quiet with only the beeps and hums of their consoles punctuating the silence as the crew diligently attended to their stations, that is, until the captain spoke up.:: Kaneshiro: Next time we’re required to stop at the Anchorage, remind me to schedule them another health and safety check. ::Lt. Commander Chaulok, the Minerva’s Vulcan first officer, looked over from her station behind the captain’s chair with a raised eyebrow. Although she had served with Kaneshiro for the last three years, she still found the human eccentricities such as “small talk” difficult to decipher at times.:: Chaulok: I will program the computer’s calendar to trigger a reminder when the conditions are met, Captain. Kaneshiro: Honestly, I’ve no idea how they get away with it. You *had* to have been even a little uncomfortable. ::Chaulok leaned back, staring at the viewscreen with a perplexed expression as she cleared her throat.:: Chaulok: I did not find the station’s particular environmental conditions that extraordinary in its divergence from order and cleanliness as seen with most non-Vulcanoids, sir. ::The captain gave her an incredulous look.:: Kaneshiro: Are you calling this ship ‘dirty’, Commander? ::A few heads turned on the bridge to witness the exchange, another classic moment between Shiro and his XO.:: ::Lieutenant JG Michael Goodwell glanced up momentarily, but unlike some of the others, he scarcely reacted to the comment. He was too focused on the readouts in front of him. Some might even say he was flying partly on autopilot given that the last couple of days had been monotonous and fairly routine. His focus was on performing his duties and he wasn’t feeling particularly social.:: Goodwell: ::shakes his head and offers sarcastically:: I hope not, sir. I heard the maintenance staff have been working overtime to keep this ship spotless. ::The Vulcan remained unfazed, however.:: Chaulok: Not at all, captain. As the ship’s executive officer, it is after all my duty to ensure the Minerva exhibits the high standards you and I have set for the crew. Thus, I can confidently say this ship is exceptional in every sense of the word. ::Shiro had to force his mouth closed, still a little shocked and humoured by his XO.:: Kaneshiro: I’ll note that in my log. ::A few chuckles were murmured but before Chaulok could continue the banter, a sensor alert began sounding from the operations console.:: Ops: Captain, I’m picking up three. . . ::The officer stammered suddenly, verifying she was reading her console correctly.:: Ops: …*hundred* vessels on an intercept course. ::The number was quite unexpected, but while the others on the bridge may have suddenly been shaken, Chaulok calmy verified the readings on her own console.:: Chaulok: Confirmed captain. It appears to be a fleet of 322 small-sized vessels to be exact. Based on their trajectory, I believe they are actually headed towards Astrofori One. Kaneshiro: Source? Chaulok: The signatures read as Tholian. ::The captain’s breath hitched in his throat as he considered his next action. They weren’t the only ship out here, but *three hundred Tholians ships*? There was simply no way *two* of them could take that on. ::A Tholian fleet in the Menthar Corridor . . . but why? What purpose could it possibly have- ::Astrofori One.:: Kaneshiro: Red alert. Contact the Stalwart, and tell them to prepare for an attack by the Tholian fleet. Helm, set a course to rendezvous with them at maximum warp. Chaulok: Aye, sir. ::As their helm officer acknowledged the order, the Vulcan quickly called up the Minerva’s Defiant class counterpart which was patrolling nearby. Most of Task Force 105 had been diverted to deal with a sudden crisis on the Community’s home world in the Zeta Equulei system. The collective consciousness species had begun overtures towards membership with the Federation, and Starfleet in turn was eager to show its willingness to render aid.:: Goodwell: ::brow furrows:: Sir, the Tholian fleet is hailing us. ::The captain stood from his chair, breathing a little heavy.:: Kaneshiro: Onscreen. ::The image of hundreds of small triangular vessels racing towards them was replaced by the bright orange face of the crystalline species.:: Tholian Admiral: =/\= Federation vessel, this will be your only advisement. Your presence in this sector is a violation of Tholian sovereignty. Furthermore, the Assembly will no longer tolerate the threat to our security from the illegal outpost that you have installed. You have precisely one hour to evacuate from the outpost before its neutralization. =/\= ::The comlink was closed before Kaneshiro could even get a word in. He huffed.:: Kaneshiro: Sounds like they’re not in a mood to negotiate. ::Michael shuddered as he recalled his last encounter with the Tholians about the Victory. They’d faced down a couple of ships that were intent on a craft they discovered floating dead in space, and they’d soon found themselves snared in Tholian webs. These guys didn’t fool around, and they never meant anything less than business. With all of the casualties during that particular encounter, he was prepared for that possibility with this one.:: Goodwell: These guys don’t play around, Captain. Last time I met a group of them, they nearly destroyed the Victory with those Tholian webs. ::Shiro took a seat back in his command chair.:: Kaneshiro: Hail Astrofori One. TBC… The Crew and Residents of Astrofori One The Crew of the USS Minerva As written by Tony aka FltCapt. Cassandra Egan Manno/Cmdr. Nic del Vedova (V238208LV0) Rich aka Capt. Roshanara Rahman (I238705TZ0) Deliera aka LtCmdr. Sky Blake (C238803SB0) Gina aka LtCmdr. Lael Rosek (I238110RH0) Cameron aka Cmdr. Evan Delano (T239007ED0)
  5. @Solkar Ah, man- the Vulcan sass is just wonderful! ((Main Sickbay, USS Eagle)) :: Solkar strode into Sickbay with a sense of purpose and what might be called enthusiasm. He looked around the area, taking note of the biobeds, the monitors, supplies, desks and his fellow medical staff. A blur of blue moved in his peripheral vision, and he found a small Andorian standing in front of him. His rank was Lieutenant Commander. Solkar knew this was Doctor Foster, his Chief Medical Officer and direct supervisor:: Foster: Hey, you must be the new kid. Solkar, right? ::Solkar didn’t bristle at being called a ‘kid’, a sobriquet meant for those younger than himself. He assumed that this was Doctor Foster’s attempt at humor or bonding. Not to be confused with the Andorian matrimonial bonding.:: Solkar: Yes, sir. Doctor Solkar, at your service. Foster: Doctor Shar’Wyn Foster, chief medical officer. : I prefer Wyn. Doctor works. Never ‘Doc.’ I do respond to ‘hey you’ but you’ll get a lecture afterwards about it. Solkar: Wyn. ::He furrowed his brows, as if trying to identify a taste that he had not encountered before. :: Wyn. Yes, sir. I shall endeavor to follow your preference. ::The Doctor had a smirk on his face, and it pleased Solkar that he had correctly identified humor as being his superior officer’s predominant mode of informal communication. He decided to try his hand at it.:: Solkar: Yes, sir. Wyn. ::He caught himself.:: Should I ever lapse and call you “hey you”, I shall present myself forthwith so that you may proceed with the lecture at your convenience. I shall also make sure that a comfortable seat is available, as it will probably take some time. ::He allowed the right corner of his mouth to move up just a millimeter or so, hoping that the Andorian would recognize the attempt.:: Foster: Response Solkar: You are very kind, sir. Foster: So, Doctor Solkar, tell me, what’s your medical area of expertise? Solkar: At the Vulcan Medical Institute, and then at Starfleet Medical Academy, my major was surgery, on both the major and minor species. Occasionally, I read some on Xenobiology to stay up on new discoveries. Foster: Really? ::The Doctor showed interest, Solkar saw his antennae tip to one side. As they were both surgeons, Solkar assumed that would also be part of upcoming discussions:: That’s interesting. Is this your first posting? Solkar: Yes, sir. This is my first Starfleet posting. After graduating from the Institute, I was stationed at a hospital that specialized in treating veterans of the various wars and battles in our recent past. It was very gratifying to assist them. I believe my interest in Starfleet could be traced back to that assignment. I passed all of Starfleet’s requisite tests and this is where I find myself today. Foster: Response Ensign Solkar Medical Officer USS Eagle E239510S10
  6. Sal Taybrim

    JP: Sakon & Flynn - Fatherhood

    ((Aitas’ Home - Shi’Kahr District - Starbase 118)) ((OOC - Takes place during shore leave just prior to current mission.)) ::Sakon had been absorbed in his reading on a particular Bajoran predator, nearly extinct in these times, when he heard the doorbell ring. It seemed that Aurelio and Antero Flynn were back from their excursion just a few minutes early. Better that way. Antero had more than enough to make up for already. Sakon opened the door before the bell rang again, and looked down to his grandson with a warm smile.:: Sakon: He looks like he enjoyed the excursion. ::Antero smiled up at the Vulcan and gave Aurelio a gentle graze of the forehead, the child strapped comfortably to his chest in the finest baby carrier he could find. Only the finest Risian material for his son, the older shopkeep had told him it had a silk like quality that was both flexible and durable. Perfect for a warm day at the beach.:: Flynn: I hope so. He really seemed at peace. ::He began to unstrap Aurelio.:: We had a nice time sitting on the beach and letting the waves wash over us, feeling the vitality of the water. Sakon: Do come in, it will be easier for Aurelio if you stay a little while. ::He took his grandson from Antero, gently running a hand across Aurelio’s chin. The Risian smiled, pleased at the somewhat unexpected invitation. Antero always felt like he had formed a bond of sorts with Sakon considering what they had been through together when they met, but as one might expect, it was hard to tell if the sentiment was shared. It turned out Vulcans were hard to read..:: Flynn: Oh, thanks. I would like that. Sakon: I will admit that I’m curious to hear about how you met Aitas. There’s so much of her life I’ve missed out on. ::He adopted a sympathetic smile and set down his bag full of equal parts beach and baby supplies before plopping himself into a chair..:: Flynn: Ah yes, Ensign Aitas. ::He smirked:: She really threw herself at me you know. ::Sakon carefully raised one eyebrow at that.:: Sakon: While my information is somewhat out of date, such behavior does not sound like my daughter. Flynn: ::He laughed softly.:: Your intuition is accurate. Aitas isn’t so easily impressed. ::He sat back, gazing up at the ceiling lazily as he thought back with nostalgia.:: We met upon her assignment to the Starbase, but the spark came during a mission when she was jolted from her seat during a nasty firefight, landing on yours truly. Sakon: That must have been some firefight indeed, unless Starfleet’s standards have degraded much from before. Flynn: ::Nodding:: Her straps failed and she was tossed around on an already busted up rib cage. When the warp core blew and the inertial dampeners failed I had no choice but to..well...take matters into my own hands. Sakon: At which point she became aware of your interest, I presume. Flynn: It wasn’t long after that. ::His head bobbed agreement.:: I found myself compelled to be at her side as she recovered, and our relationship blossomed quickly from there. The mutual interest was made clear early on. Sakon: Ah, so she does take after her mother. Jissela was never shy about asking for what she wanted. ::He smiled slightly, shaking his head.:: Or about disagreeing with her parents. Flynn: She definitely has a knack for getting to the point. Efficiency even in communication. ::He perked up a bit and smiled at Sakon with a touch of mischief in his eyes.:: How about some young Aitas stories? Flynn: Hey little guy. ::He picked him up and gave him a wide smile.:: You want your dad? ::Sakon smiled, the expression brief and fleeting.:: Sakon: Don’t forget that you’ve much to teach him as well. He needs people to talk to him as much as though who understand his feelings, and I’m hardly an expert on Risa. ::Antero found himself somewhat intrigued at the mans openness in regards to teaching Aurelio about Risian culture. He supposed it was all those Vulcan academy teachers he had never meshed well with. The young pilot had a few Risian ways that were NOT well received by his logic and sophistication based superiors. The receptive nature of Sakon was certainly appreciated.:: Flynn: What do you think Aurelio, should I teach you some things about being a Risian? ::He took on a brief look of contemplation toward his son before a thought struck him like a lightning bolt. He looked to the Vulcan with only a hint of mischief in his eyes:: Ooohhh, I could teach him fire dancing! ::That made Sakon lean forward, raising an eyebrow as he looked between Antero and Aurelio.:: Sakon: I will presume that such statements are a form of Risian humor, rather than a threat. ::Okay, so perhaps the Risian was starting off a little strong.:: Flynn: ::Laughing softly.:: Not to worry, he is much too young for fire dancing. ::He looked to Aurelio and placed a finger in his tiny hand.:: We won’t start that until you’re at least five or six years old. Sakon: That sounds like something you should discuss with Aitas. Among...well, I think she had a list. She mentioned surfing lessons? Flynn: Of course. ::Smirking:: Surfing lessons will be another delayed adventure. Better to start with general water acclimation and then swimming. ::He gently tickled Aurelio’s belly with his fingers.:: We can get you some lil’ swimmy trunks, huh? Now just need to decide where to take you. ::That earned another brief smile.:: Sakon: I’m sure you’ll manage to figure it out. I’ve already put together a few recommendations for logic classes. Flynn: Logic classes, of course. ::He looked up with a humored smile that faded as soon as he met a completely serious expression and realized the man wasn’t joking. Right. Vulcan. He supposed an open mind went both ways.:: Where does one go for those sorts of lessons? Sakon: There’s a few schools in this district that would suffice. But, ::He paused, glancing about the room.:: I believe Aitas should be home soon. Perhaps you could stay for dinner? It’d give the both of you more time to discuss matters. Flynn: I would like that, thank you. ::A warm genuine smile:: You know Sakon, if you’re not careful I’m going to start thinking you like having me around. ::That earned noncommittal shrug from Sakon.:: Sakon: Aurelio enjoys your presence. I would not deprive him of that. ::He paused, turning toward the door.:: Ah, it seems that Aitas has returned. We can continue this discussion later. ~Fin~ ---------------------------------------------- Antero Flynn Civilian Pilot Starbase 118 Ops C239205AF0 & Sakon Xenobiologist ~Written by~ Lt. Commander Aitas Chief Intelligence Officer Second Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239307A10
  7. This is a general appreciation for Ensign Corliss Fortune, who has recently joined the Gorkon in the middle of what can only be described as a nightmare (quite literally) and has really taken to it like a duck to water. I look forward to reading your posts; they're engaging and descriptive, with a lot of characterization. Keep it up! --- ((Ready Room, USS Gorkon)) Reynolds: ::Low,:: Nkai, we're going to need to get you back to sickbay. ::Corliss watched them uncertainly, feeling a small chill and shivering a bit.:: Nkai: But , uh… ::He winced.:: We should think about getting our hands on tricorders first. If we know where they are, we can move around the ship safely. Fortune: I agree. If we end up face to face with them all of a sudden, it could end very badly. I don't think we're fit to fight off more than one or two of them, if that. Reynolds: There's a supply locker in the corridor by my quarters. ::Quinn glanced between Nkai and Fortune. Corliss smiled reassuringly, or she hoped it came off that way, and not nervously.:: Ensign, would you check if we're clear to head out, and then lead the way? ::She nodded her head toward the panel that would take them out into the corridor.:: Fortune: Yes, Captain, not a problem. ::Corliss pressed her ear to the panel first, slowly taking the handle and tugging the panel open. She kept her eye to the slit in the panel as it slowly opened wider. No one she could see, so she peeked out more, her head sliding free of the tube as she looked around. She gave them both a thumbs up behind her, no one was there but it didn't mean they didn't have ears around. Corliss shuffled her way through the narrow opening silently, bracing one leg up and vaulting over it, her feet making a creaking noise in her boots as she landed and opening the panel all the way. She nodded.:: Fortune: ::whispering:: Looks clear, Sir. Reynolds: Response Fortune: Yes, sir! ::Corliss made sure the panel was not going to slam on them, looking over her shoulder a few times just in case as she helped the captain out first, then holding her arm elbow out in a crooked angle for Nkai.:: Fortune: Here, I've got good leverage, just hold on if you need to, okay? Nkai: Thanks. ::Corliss held in a grunt as she helped him out, swaying with him for a moment before righting herself, her arm tight to keep him up. She smiled back as he smiled at her, although he still looked tired and worn.:: Fortune: Not a problem! ::She watched as the Captain looked around. One had his mouth half open, as if in mid talk when he fell 'asleep', and she frowned. Their thoughts were completely muffled, or nonexistent, which measured up to being asleep. Jumbled thoughts were fun yet horrible to hear as they made no sense, and some just didn't think, just dreamed. She shook her head. The ones that were meaningful were hers, Nkai's and the Captain's, which she dutifully kept low on listening so as not to seem intrusive. Nothing was too loud so they weren't close...yet.:: Reynolds: All right, ::she spoke quietly:: let's get ourselves equipped and move on as soon as we can. There's a turbolift just at the end of the corridor, we can use that to get to sickbay once we're ready. Fortune: Okay, no problem. ::Corliss opened the locker easily, nudging aside a few things as she got out what they needed. She clipped a phaser on as well, clutching a tricorder as she started it up, eyes on the map before she froze a bit, hearing the sudden voices. Her eyes found the Captain as she sucked in a small breath.:: Gravelled Voice: It's up here. We're to grab her kids and bring them up to the bridge. oO Kids? Oh..oh no... Oo Rasping Voice: Lladre wants a bargaining chip, huh? Gravelled Voice: Something like that. Don't think his— ::there was a momentary pause, as if the owner of the voice was self-correcting,:: —*her* current plan is working out. ::Corliss shivered a bit. That was so cold to hear, that someone would use CHILDREN in a plan. She licked her lips nervously, weighing her weight onto one side in case they decided to sprint for it. She nodded at the Captain, looking over at Nkai nervously before ducking into the alcove, grazing over the thoughts of the two ahead of them. There was no alarm or alertness, so they hadn't heard them..yet.:: Reynolds: ::Low,:: Nkai, get down. Pretend you're asleep. ::Corliss tried to give a reassuring smile at Nkai, resting into the alcove while keeping an eye on where the voices where coming from.:: Fortune: ::Low:: Sir? Reynolds: ::Low,:: My quarters are there, ::she gestured to a set of doors behind them,:: so they'll be coming this way. Make sure your phaser's on stun and take your shot when you're ready. They're not expecting us. ::Rage was still boiling in her belly, incandescent at the thought of anyone so much as daring to touch her children. Violence was usually something she abhorred, but there was a small piece of her that was looking forward to dropping these particularly people to the deck.:: Fortune: ::Low:: Yes sir. ::She double checked her phaser, sliding the tricorder onto the floor slowly, careful to only make the softest of noises. They couldn't afford to mess this up. She curled up onto her side, as if relaxing, her phaser pointed towards the hallway, her eyes flicking back to the Captain before focusing again. She was ready and waiting for whoever-or whatever-appeared in front of them.:: Ensign Corliss Counselor USS Gorkon G239510CF0
  8. @Daniel Cain ((Tactical Holodeck 1, Deck 3, USS Apollo-A)) ::For the past 2 weeks Cain had not spent a minute idle. After the Twitchy Lieutenant JG had put him in charge of the AP Section of Security, he'd read up on everything he could. After 2 weeks he still wasn't done with it all but reckoned he had most of the priorities looked over. He'd started with the Borg and Voyagers encounter with them. When it came down to it Admiral Janeway was a genius when it came to killing these guys. What interested him most was the Elite Force that had been put together to combat threats like these. He read up on those missions in detail, wondering if the same could be done here on this ship. They were going to be out here longer than Voyager was anyway so why not? That idea was a long way off anyway, he still had so much to take in.:: ::Next on his list was the Hirogen. Brutal, efficient killing machines. Again, all information he could find came from Voyagers interactions. How had their society evolved since the last interaction with Voyager? Had they settled somewhere or did they still hunt? Cain believed the latter and even theorised they'd come up with new ways to kill. He surmised it would be interesting to meet one in a fight.:: ::The list seemed endless. Species 8472, Kazon, Krenim, Hierarchy, Malon. There were so many and others that were unknown. He read up on different tactics used by each and how they fought. When it got down and dirty, that information may save his life one day.:: Cain: K'MAARRA, LEFT FLANK! SECOND SQUAD COVER! ::The Caitian leapt up from her firing position from behind a rock and began moving to a rocky outcropping on her left about 50m away. As she ran crouched over, fire rained in from behind her to the enemy position to cover her. She moved with a speed befitting of Caitians, which is why he'd told her to move. Her black fur shook from running. She hit the rocks with her shoulder as she got there and started returning fire. The Hirogen, seeing one of their prey separated from the main body, charged the rock to surround her from both sides. This is what Cain was hoping for.:: Cain: FIRST SQUAD, NOW! ::Cain had placed First Squad up high, on the top of a high ridge that overlooked the rock K'Maarra was behind. As the Hirogen came around, both squads hit in the cross fire. Phaser Rifle beams and Pulse Phaser fire shot in, dropping body after body. Within minutes, the whole enemy force had been killed, bodies surrounding the panting Caitian.:: Cain: Squads, pull it in. ::As the 10 members of his security force started to move towards him, Cain couldn't help but think something was still off about the programming. He come up with these exercises himself after reading the after action reports from Voyager but he didn't think in reality a Hirogen hunting force would just run into an obvious trap. He made a note to check in with someone to see if they could improve on the A.I. of the enemy combatants. However he wasn't going to reveal that to his teams.:: Cain: Good job everyone, although some did get in close enough to K'Maarra to give her a stand up fight. How was it? K'Maarra::Grinning but still breathing heavily.:: Walk in the park sir Cain: Good. Don't let it go to your head though... ::He looked around.::…. and that goes for all of you too. These are basic simulations of the type of enemies we might face out here. I'm sure the real thing will be more of a challenge but its all good practise. ::They all looked half serious but in a good way. Each of them knew it would be harder in reality and looked like they welcomed the challenge. Cain had come to respect the crew he'd been working with and had managed to get past he feeling they were all wrong in some way to actually enjoy their company.:: Cain: Dismissed. Go get cleaned up and keep studying your files. I don't think we are ever going to finish them but keep going at it. Computer, end program. ::They all wandered towards the exit as the environment disappeared to reveal bulk heads and emitters. Some had even made it out the door.:: Computer: Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. ::Cain saw everything darken and a red hue illuminated the corridors out side the tactical Holodeck. The people already out the door jogged back in. He addressed everyone.:: Cain: Ok you know the drill. Lets get armed and ready. This may be the first time this has happened out here but it certainly won be the last. ::As Cain was jogging out with his teams his Comm Badge chirped.:: Fairhug: =/\= Fairhug to Lieutenant Cain and Ensigns Malko and Maro, please hand off any work you are doing to another member of staff and make your way to the Captain's Ready Room. =/\= Cain: =/\= Yes Commander. =/\= ::Cain stopped and K'Maarra stopped with him. He started jogging in the other direction, toward the turbolift. He shouted over his shoulder.:: Cain: Sort them out Ensign. ::She nodded and resumed her course at a faster rate. Cain ran into the turbolift, breathing lightly.:: Cain: Bridge. ::As an after thought, Cain remembered he was holding his rifle. Shrugging he strapped it to his back with the sling he had with it.:: oO Never know, may come in useful Oo ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Apollo-A)) ::Cain walked onto the Bridge and crossed the vast space to the Captains ready room. Everyone was busy assessing what was going on. Cain nodded to the Commander as he caught his eye and gave him a questioning look. The Commander answered indirectly.:: Fairhug: Ensign D'fini, have a look at the archives. Is there any reason the Hierarchy would have for attacking the Talaxians like this? oO Hierarchy? Really? Not their MO Oo ::He looked over at D'fini and smiled. He always did when he saw her. He hadn't had time to speak to her properly after their initial meeting. He assumed she was busy like himself that he hadn't even thought about it. Still, something about her put him at ease. Cain chimed the door as D'fini answered but didn't take it in. The door immediately opened and Cain stepped into the room. He found the Admiral beyond. The door closed behind him but a second later opened again. Cain groaned inwardly. The annoying Ensign. The Admiral made a gesture towards the sofa and the other two sat down. Cain remained standing. The Rifle on his back would make for an awkward seating position.:: Renos: Something about this stinks and unfortunately, we’re going in blind. So tell me, what do you know about the Hierarchy? Cain: Only what I've read in Voyagers files Sir Malko: In the spirit of honesty, I have only the basic combat training and a hostile rescue situation with Atlantis under my belt - which I don't know if I've fully processed, yet. What did you have in mind for me, Captain? ::Cain kept his face neutral but was groaning again inside. He found himself doing that a lot lately with people in blue collars.:: oO That's it, make your CO doubt you from the off Oo Renos: Mr Malko, I have no doubt about your abilities or your training. I appreciate that it's a difficult mission you’ve gone through. Having only limited data right now, it’s hard to say how our resources will be utilised. Best case scenario, we drive the Hierarchy away before too much damage is done. Worst case scenario we may have to send search and rescue parties to evacuate New Talax. What I do know, is that this is a traumatic event for the Talaxians. There will be people in direct need of your expertise, so tell me now if you feel you may not be able to handle any task that may be required of you. Malko: Response Renos: Very well. For now, let’s focus on the Hierarchy. What else do we know about them? ::Cain spoke first.:: Cain: Nothing beyond Voyagers files. They Micromanage to an extent that if they need to use the head they need to see if its worth their time. A full scale planetary attack is not their style unless there is a massive gain from such an expensive and resource consuming activity. If there is, im surprised no one picked up on their spying before hand as they must have been at it weeks to plan it in such miniscule detail. Maro/Malko: Response ::Renos nodded, thinking the response's through apparently.:: Renos: Well it begs the question - was this a stealth assault gone wrong? Were they uncovered prematurely by the Talaxians? Did they underestimate their target? Or what about an evolution of their tactics? Cain: I would go against an evolution in tactics. A society micromanaged from the top has people that will not want to give that up. If this is a genuine attack, this is still going to have been weighed and measured by these top guys and the Talaxians may be in a lot more trouble than we realise. Renos: Then perhaps it was desperation. Does anyone have any theories about why they might be attacking or what they may be after? Malko/Maro: Response Cain: Or maybe they are moving out this way because something worse is on the other side of their territory.
  9. Ayiana

    Jo "Blondie" Marshall

    (( Sickbay, Skarbek )) ::Despite the conversations in the room, somehow it was still quiet. Jo watched as Erin lay in between Quinn and 'Kos, hands held across all three, creating a physical scaffolding to support the mental connection. She tilted her head as Erin closed her eyes. The affirmations from the Doctors of placative assurance, that everything would be OK, hadn't settled her mind any. She wanted to believe them, but life was rarely fair, and friends often died.:: Yiggtissi: OK, let’s begin. Needles, activate the monitors. ::The connected display units illuminated above the biobed loungers, presenting the cortical scans for monitoring purposes. There were facts and figures, a trio of brains that protruded from the screens into holographic three-dimensional imagery. Synaptic pathways lit up as they wound through the grey matter, like tree roots growing under the earth.:: Sim: See you... on the... other side… ::Dense silence overtook the clinic, permeated by the occasional sound of disjointed beeps from the computers. The Saurian remained close to the triad, tricorder in hand, always monitoring for slight changes or telltale signs of distress. Jo shifted on her feet and worried the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth, following the slowly pitching lines on the monitors like the crest and trough of waves in the sea. Finally, the undulating ripples smoothed into synchronicity.:: Sterling: They’re entering deep sleep. Yiggtissi: ::His eyes focused on his tricorder.:: How are we looking, Iriin? Changes? Sterling: No, nothing yet. Yiggtissi: Ok. Begin the neural interface, keep an eye on their acetylcholine levels. Let me know if you see a peak in Corticotropin. I will monitor their Cortisol levels from here. ::Corticotropin rang a bell in some distant drafty hallway of Jo's mind. Instead of delving into the chimes, she crossed her arms, started to chew slivers of her thumbnail off, and found herself looking at Walter. The man was near impossible to read, like flattened braille, and she followed his studious gaze to the monitors above Quinn. Not for the first time that day, she wondered about his plans. Her attention returned to the Doctors - Needles busy with her monitoring, the Saurian doing the same, his dark eyes a mystery, then he looked up at the Bear.:: Yiggtissi: Capt’n, I’m not sure what is going on here but if it hadn’t been for you taking a chance with us, Genkos and I would probably still be in that bar on Alpha Minervus. Brunsig: Response Yiggtissi: I just wanted to say that it has been a pleasure. ::That was the other enigma glaring at them from the umbrae. If this was all a dream, some baroque blend of brain bewitchery, what had her life been up to that point? She had clear memories, more than she cared to. A fragment of her heart wanted it to be real - to "wake up" and for this dream to be the product of an undercooked mushroom stew, to go home to her bike and Erin's billion plants. ::Realigning her mind to the present, she watched the hybrid breathing for a moment, and said the first thing that came into her head.:: Marshall: I wonder what they're seeing in there. ::The words had barely left her mouth before their Saurian Doctor collapsed to the floor, curling into the foetal position in the cramped space. His body shook, arms and legs kicking out in all directions. Jo dropped to the floor beside him, placing her hand on the side of his ribs, feeling his swift and shallow breath. Another kick from his long leg landed into a cabinet door, denting the metal on impact. ::Jo jumped back out of the way as his arms punched the air around him, battling an invisible enemy, then all at once he folded in on himself, tucking in his limbs close, like a human baby would to retain heat. In a second, he had jolted back awake, dark eyes wide and shining under the Sickbay lights. Between them, Jo and Walter helped him to the chair.:: Yiggtissi: I-What happened? Marshall: You dropped like a shot targ. Take your time coming back. Brunsig: Response Yiggtissi: I think I just went through my birth. But all of you were there, in Starfleet uniforms. Brunsig: Response ::It had been a long time since she had been in the uniform of the Federation's military branch and even longer for the German. She looked up at Walter, her question as unanswerable as it felt.:: Marshall: What does any of this mean? ::The unsteady Saurian wobbled back to the triplicated biobeds and leaned on them for support.:: Yiggtissi: I don’t know but if we don’t figure this out soon, I’m afraid the entire crew could get lost in these hallucinations. ::The crackle of the intercom speakers sounded above their heads and a disembodied voice, or voices, started to speak over one another in quick succession.:: Skarbek: =/= Enlistment to the Skarbek Sanitarium. Collect your uniform from the third cat on the right. Please keep your hands and organs inside the ride at all futures, pasts and presents. Throw the lampshade into the volcano and dance like a lemur in a negligee. Casino night is every Sunday that occurs twice in a roundabout. Hahahahaha... =/= Yiggtissi/Brunsig: Response ::Jo felt something wriggling in her pocket and stuck her hand inside, dragging out a tribble. Another spurted forth from the cabinet with the Saurian boot dent, rolled across the floor and started to shimmy. Then it split, multiplying itself like miniature furry amoebas until the floor was a jive scene of dancing tribbles. Jo sneezed into her hands and looked down at her palms to find a tiny Klingon with a bat'leth, who then elegantly swan-dived from her fingers into the pile of tribbles. ::She looked up at Walter and Yiggs, still holding her palms together, not suite sure how to interpret what was going on.:: Marshall: I've never sneezed in Klingon before. Yiggtissi/Brunsig: Response Skarbek: =/= Warning, unknown vessel on approach. Warning, beacon has been intercepted. ::A radio voice.:: And hereeeeeeee's Trellium-D with that all new catchy verse... ::Song starts playing, crooner voice.:: I've got you, under my skin. I've got youuuu, deep in the heart of me. ::Normal voice.:: Warning, warning, warning, warning. Bondage rhymes with hostage. Do you know what doesn't rhyme with bondage? Neurotoxin. Silver syringes will drop in succession from the bow of the cube. Do not be fooled by the dog. It is infinite. =/= ::There was a faint tap on her shoulder - just enough to be felt hitting her shirt - then the trickle of water running down the back of her arm. Jo looked down at the splodge of wet fabric, then up to the ceiling. A single track of water ran across the mottled roof, and then the walls and floor began to shake.:: Yiggtissi/Brunsig: Response ---- Jo "Blondie" Marshall Maquis Resistance Fighter The Skarbek simmed by Lieutenant Jocelyn Marshall Chief Operations Officer USS Gorkon G239304JM0
  10. ((Corridors, The Skarbek)) ::The whole sickbay scene unravelled itself in chaos, Red herself making an entrance, followed by an entourage of The Kid, aka Groznin. Shortly after the commotion gathered steam, Papa Bear himself arrived on scene, delivering a stern order to for lack of better words, “Get some damn rest”. After criticising the current situation on board of course.:: ::The situation itself, was a shamble. After passing out for god knows how long, suddenly, there seemed to be an epidemic of sleepwalking, something that seemed to question the very boundaries of reality as the crew knew it. There was more than enough evidence to note that there was some other force pulling the strings here. The only trouble was… how could they possibly find out? How could a ship filled to the brim with skeptics possibly question the norms of their own reality, when they won’t even accept the facts layed out in front of them?:: ::Emilia was in no state to contemplate the matter of reality, of course, what she needed right now was “some damn rest” as the captain said it. Her boots tapped endlessly down the hallways, her body a sweaty mess and her hair… her hair was the subject of a definite talk with Sticks. Perhaps he required a lesson in hair care, lest he lose his scalp physically, rather than metaphorically.:: ::Emilia made a sharp left turn on her heel, once again travelling down the all too familiar, manky corridor that she called home. The main form of lighting once again flickering under the worn out wiring, highlighting the unfinished wall panels parallel to the scorch mark covered door. The ever prevalent scars left from the countless electrical fires, once again smiling at Emilia as she entered the cozily small room.:: ((Personal Quarters, The Skarbek)) ::Emilia took in a deep breath as an audible ‘whoosh’ signaled the closing of the doors. Promptly her eyes drifted over to the vacant bed. The sheets fitted to perfection and the blankets left as if nobody had slept there for months, just as mother taught her. A single book sat in the centre of the bed, it’s glossy cover highlighting under the pale light, a small piece of velvet lining stuck out of the pages, marking a spot for continuation.:: ::With a small smile, Emilia slipped her boots off with a swift unzipping motion freeing both legs from that cage of worn leather and sweat. Emilia’s feet energetically pounced her body forward, the soft springs of her bed (arguably the most comfortable spot on the ship) cushioning her fall.:: ::In an instant, her hungry eyes seized the book’s form, Emilia’s nails jamming in between the marked crevices of the novel. Dramatically and slowly, she freed the printed text from darkness that plagued the pages. The relief of escaping to a world of fantasy upon her once more, as she set her famished eyes on the bold, black letters that sunk deeply into the pages.:: ::It felt rather ironic really, suspecting one of dreaming, but once again indulging in the dreams of another man. Quite odd really? Perhaps it was… but the line between dreams and reality appeared to thicken once again as Emilia occupied her thoughts on the coarse pages. Though, she still couldn’t shake the feelings she had earlier. Each image within her mind, sticking with her like glue. Each recollection, causing a strangely ghostly feeling to reach through the very centre of her chest.:: ::But what could it all mean?:: _______________________ Emilia “Princess” Krugol -- Maquis Escort -- Skarbek ________________________ Simmed by ________________________ Ensign Emilia Krugol -- Security/Tactical Officer -- USS Gorkon -- G239409EK0 ________________________
  11. ((OOC: This contains reference to Tatash's damaged psyche, if that is a sensitive subject please beware)) ((Laurel Clark - Atmosphere of the moon)) Duyzer: Either I had inaccurate results on the Columbia, or this magnetic interference has grown. We may be dealing with a magnitude even those pattern enhancers cannot supersede. G’Renn: Let’s hope that they do remain in working order. Tatash: Not to mention the rest of the shuttle, that's one hell of a storm. ::The looming atmosphere in front of him was certainly looking unpleasant. There was flashes of greenery under it, flashes of water, but above it all was the steady churn of a terrible looking storm syste:: Jolara: ? ::To Tatash's surprise, the storm was more bark then it was bite. The swirling masses of grey cloud caused little problems for the agile little vehicle pushing between them. He was no engineer, but there was no whine of struggle, only the sound of rain hitting the side of the Lauren Clark with a dull rumble:: G’Renn: When we arrive I want everyone to stay vigilant and keep an eye on the surroundings. Unfortunately we don’t know anything about what we’re flying into. ::Tatash nodded in response and glanced around everyone's belt, before pointing towards one of the small thumb-locked lockers underneath the couch opposite him:: Tatash: Make sure you're all armed. Something about this just doesn't sit right in my gut. ::He'd learned from early in his career, before his Starfleet one, that when something didn't feel right in that multi chambered meat-processor of his... it was usually for a good reason:: Jolara: ? Duyzer: Will do. G’Renn: Good, if we- ::A flashing light on the co-pilot’s console caught her attention:: The comms just went out. As soon as we land I want to set up the signal beacon. After we have re-established contact we can begin our search. Tatash: I'll keep you covered. ::He nodded towards the beacon. He didn't want to risk breaking what looked like quite a delicate (not to mention amazingly important) piece of equipment:: Jolara: ? ::For a second things were going smoothly, the small group performing as a cohesive unit until the almost predictable fate of a well planned team came to bear. There was a bang. A horrible sounding crash that felt like a giant hand had rapped a knuckle against the side of the craft, almost as if checking if anyone came to the door to answer it. The jolt, the suddenness of it caused his heart to almost explode out of his chest. It felt familiar, like a sickening impact he'd already felt once before. He shouldn't have suggested a shuttle, this was a damned foolish idea.:: Jolara: ? G'Renn: Report! Duyzer: It's because of the magnetic interference, we can't handle the difference in magneticity between the ship and the atmosphere. G'Renn: Does anyone have any suggestions? Duyzer: Uhm... ::he struggled to come up with a quick fix, he would rather pause time and think about this for several hours:: Now would be the time to test my mentor's theory... ::Another thud slapped against them, this time causing the Security chief to whack the back of his head against the bulkhead. His breathing was increasing rapidly, his knuckles clenching almost painfully on the straps holding him in, almost cutting the deliberately tough fabric into his palms:: Jolara: ? G'Renn: What about the warp coils in the nacelles? Couldn’t we pass a current through them like an electromagnet? Duyzer: Yes! ::shouting like it was a eureka-moment:: I'll, uhm... G’Renn: Then let’s hurry, ensign! ::She motioned to the panel next to Ensign Duyzer’s station:: The engineering access panel is right there. ::Tatash watched the Ensign moving at speed towards an access panel with widened eyes. Were they going down? Was the shuttle about to fall like a stone, even it's strong hull would never survive such an impact.Something inside him twisted, something hellish bringing a memory to the forefront. His eyes fixed ahead of him int error, unable to stop himself from bearing witness to a catastrophe:: ((Flashback - The Battle of the USS Avalon)) ::Green lances continued to spear out towards the group of fighters as they dragged them away from the Aramis's nesting place, but too many. They were drones, no question about that, their computer minds pulling maneuvers that would be considered far too risky for anything flesh and bone to be sitting in the pilots seats. Twisting and turning they dodged fire like ballet dancers avoiding the torrents of hellfire being thrown at them:: Tatash: We have to lure them towards the Albion! She can give us fire support. ::A few responses came back, garbled, no doubt those little terrors putting out some sort of ECM systems to jam communications but his intent got through, the battered fighter wing closing up and speeding towards the Albion with their pursuers in tow. Another friendly was tore up, the Peregrine tumbling over and splitting apart in a hail of Romulan energy:: Tatash: oO Come on... get the message... Oo ::Diago was thankfully quick on his trigger, the Albion letting out orange bursts of energy towards the attacking ships that did their best to adapt to the sudden new parameter being thrown at them, several exploding into blossoms of yellow before subduing into frozen shards of gas and metal. One by one their number went down, a few elated cheers coming over the comms as the electronic smokescreen surrounding the fighters started to dissipate along with their numbers. Even Tatash couldn't help but feel himself slightly relax, until that split second of relief bore a heavy price. His Valkyrie spun violently as something tore hard against the port side, what had once been a pristine wing now a twisted piece of metal. He'd been rammed, the drones apparently programmed to take every last risk when it came to ensuring victory against their designated enemy:: Computer: Warning, Port engines destroyed. Compensating. ::Slowly the ship came about, steading herself out as she limped towards the Albions perimeter, but the moment had been enough for one of the drones to deliver a firm volley against her damaged hull. Tatash flailed in his seat, thrown against the side of his [...]pit as alarms wailed on each console:: Computer: Catastrophic damage. Eject. Eject. ::His training took over, clawed hands grasping for the lever under his seat that would throw the entire [...]pit out as a makeshift lifeboat, one tug. Nothing, two tugs. Still nothing:: Computer: Ejection failure. ::His heart was pounding, the blue glow of the Albions shuttlebay painfully close as he fired up the emergency thruster, throwing him forwards towards it as he tapped on the comms system hoping to the pale goddess it still worked:: Tatash: =/\= Tatash to Albion. Mayday, Mayday. ::Nothing, whatever response had come through was distorted static blasting through his ear piece. His [...]pit was cracking, a thin spiderweb slowly erupting over what was once an impossibly strong material:: Tatash: =/\= Mayday... Computer: Warning, landing gear failure. All systems failing. ::All he could do now was hope as he continued to push towards the docking bay at speed, his scaled knuckles almost white as he did his best to assert what limited control he had on the ruined vehicle. The Albions damaged hull rushed past him as he saw the massive catching net erupting from the shuttlebay floor, he could even make out technicians running for cover as time seemed to slow down as the adrenaline pushing through him hit his peak. The nose hit the net with tremendous force, the entire fuselage crumpling down as he was thrown forward, what was a moment of reality pushed into a murky darkness:: ((End Flashback)) ::The voices around him had faded into a dull murmur, his body shook without him occupying it as the Shuttle landed itself on the ground with only a slight amount of discomfort to just about everyone else but him, too busy trapped in his own personal prison. He felt his biological fingers grasping, the fabric between them, his thumbs running over them experimenting and feeling their texture in reality. His metal ones on the other arm were alien to him, once more, but they were real. As he had been told, they were a fragment of that memory that will always remain to remind him it was in the past. Not now, although it felt like now. The bulkhead ahead of him was solid and cold. The chair under him was sturdy. It was soft, supportive, attached. Straps. The straps were tight on him. He flexed his toes, boots. Boots around his feet, grounding him. He was here, on the ground, safe. He took a brief moment to pause, almost mentally rebooting himself:: G’Renn: Is anyone seriously injured? Duyzer: Not me. Jolara: ? ::Tatash counted, slowly up to five. Each time regulating his breathing, every coping mechanism that had been pushed into him almost as a muscle memory by the almost endless counselling sessions triggering automatically as he let out the deepest exhale of all:: Tatash: I'm alright. ::he managed to stutter out, his focus shifting intently to his rifle. His weapon gave him control, it gave him power. Control was good, control was needed. With a well drilled motion he cycled the power, checked the energy cell status despite doing it several times before they had even taken off:: G’Renn: Come on, let’s get this signal beacon working. ::The door opened, and air blasted into the cramped interior almost like it was blowing away the last traces of that almost nightmare memory from his mind. He was focused, ready again. Just a shame that cold air hung heavy with natural fragrances, pleasant ones at that even despite the storm raging overhead. He swept his rifle over the ground ahead of them as the beacon was deployed, the focus down his sights keeping him locked back in the present.:: G’Renn: =/\= Doctor G’Renn to the Columbia, do you read? =/\= Thoran: =/\= Doctor, good to hear your voice. We believe we have detected some kind of artificial field, not too far from your original destination. I’d like you to investigate the area around the coordinates two-two-nine mark five. Please confirm. =/\= ::Tatash took a few steps down the loading ramp, his eyes scanning the horizon. There was nothing, no welcoming committee to meet them. Either there was no one interested in them, or they had landed undetected. Or, more ominously, they were being studied remotely:: G’Renn: =/\= Understood. We almost crashed due to a power loss on the way down, so it’s probably safer to walk if it’s close. We’ll keep you informed. =/\= Thoran: =/\= Stay safe Doctor. Columbia out. =/\= G’Renn: Everybody grab your equipment and get ready for a short hike. Those coordinates would be ::She consulted her tricorder, which could at least display a basic idea of their position. Beyond that it was almost useless.:: that way! Duyzer: Yes, it shouldn't be more than a fifteen minute hike. Tatash: Understood. I'll take point. Jolara: ? Duyzer: This planet is beautiful. ::putting up his Denobulan smile:: ::Tatash grunted at that comment as he walked slowly forward, his steps deliberate as he did his best to focus on every slight hint of motion. Even with his excellent eyesight, it would be far too easy for someone to hide virtually undetected within the foilage. But, he couldn't let the paranoia set in from his earlier incident, he had to remain focused on reality now not past.:: G'Renn/Jolara: ? Duyzer: Yes, of course! ::he quickly glanced down:: Not on sensors yet. I am wondering, a man-made field on a planet ::he pointed to all the nature around them:: this untouched? Tatash: Perfect place to hide, Ensign. Breathable air, self sustainable farming ::he nodded towards the rich ground:: and unexplored by anyone. Who would ever bother you out here? G'Renn/Jolara/Duyzer: ? ::A few more steps forward, before something caught Tatash's eye causing him to throw a hand up motioning to stop. Tricorders were one thing, but sometimes the old methods were the best. Crouching down he ran his fingers over a uniform pattern in the surface of the dirt. Grass was crushed, and again in a patterned line roughly three foot parallel:: Tatash: Tracks. Literally tracks. G'Renn/Jolara/Duyzer: ? Tatash: Whatever it was, it was fairly light. Some sort of tracked vehicle, probably lightly armored, civilian. Judging by the way the grass has been pressed, it's heading towards... whatever we are. G'Renn/Jolara/Duyzer: ? Tatash: Fresh, couple of hours maybe. ::He added, gently testing the spongyness of the grass underfoot:: G'Renn/Jolara/Duyzer: ? --- Lt. Commander Tatash Chief of Security USS Columbia C239108T10
  12. ((Diplomatic Conference Room, USS Columbia)) ::If there was one thing they got right when they redesigned and upgraded the Columbia, it was the diplomatic conference room. Spanning a space large enough for a big meeting, or a small gathering, the room was lined with transparent aluminum windows that gave an unimpeded view of the outside. Meant to provide a sense of awe, and perhaps humility, unto those who would gaze beyond the thin barrier, the view quickly enraptured her.:: ::Silence permeated the very bulkheads in the large room in which she now stood, her boot steps long halted and their echoing footfalls long faded into the chasm of isolation she’d created within. A set of blue crystalline eyes gazed into the dark abyss of space, reaching, wanting…barely touching on the tiny motes of dust that were in actuality stars burning bright millions of miles away. Finding their target, an almost unsettling purplish haze, they settled.:: ::And then her mind wandered.:: ::So still she stood that the long wisps of hair no longer fluttered around her. Draping down her back, past her waist, the obsidian locks seemed almost unreal. Had anyone walked in at that moment, they might have thought themselves approaching a statue. Yet, even as her stillness became a very part of the room she stood in, her mind flew amongst the very stars she ignored.:: ::Much of her thoughts were empty, distant like the burning balls of flame that consumed themselves and eventually became the void that they had once illuminated. They were of her first memories, drifting in space, with everything new and unlearned. Each day had been filled with a kind of wonder, like a child discovering the universe for the first time. And yet, as the days wore on, it became painfully apparent that something was missing. That pain, a deep atramentous divide, never left. Day after day she carried it with her.:: ::Day after day, she suffered.:: ::Memories were, as she’d learned, often taken for granted. As Starfleet medical poked and prodded, she uncovered the true loss. Without friends, without connections, without anyone but herself, Kali had learned how to walk again. Physically she was whole. Physically she had no trouble standing on her own two feet. In her head, however, things were anything but normal.:: ::Now, as she stood on the precipice of the edge of the galaxy, she wondered. The dark beyond was yet unknown. The barrier held within it mystery, and perhaps, something that could help her. Would it work? Would it be worth it? And would their proximity be close enough to matter?:: ::Question after question rattled off as she finally, slowly, closed her eyes.:: ::And that was the first time the image of the blade coming at her appeared. Gasping for air and falling backwards into the nearby table, Kali desperately struggled to grasp what she had just seen…:: TBC Fleet Captain Kalianna Nicholotti Federation Ambassador at Large As simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Ash MacKenna Chief Science Officer USS Columbia R238605KN0
  13. Renos

    Ensign Ruq'orb - Clubbing

    ((Deck 8, Club Olympus, USS Apollo)) :: Ruq’orb entered the club this was the first time he’d been in when the club was open. It looked completely different from the reduced lighting and the flashing disco lights. The fast-paced music that was playing was really catchy, he nodded his head along with the beat and with a bit of sway as he approached the bar. :: :: As he ordered a glass of water, he noted the voice and lack of anything emotional from the bar staff. :: Ruq’orb: oO Hologram? Oo :: He was still learning about how his senses worked but he’d always been able to sense peoples emotions and when things seemed out of place or even people. Ruq’orb knew the room was fully fitted with the latest holo software and tech. :: Ruq’orb: You been busy? Bar Staff: Yes, We have with all the new crew. Are you new? :: He smiled at the question, the computer seemed to have a small talk subroutine. :: Ruq’orb: No I been here for the last two and a half years since the refit started. Thanks for the drink. :: He didn’t fancy spending all his night chatting to holograms, he bobbed and weaved his way across the dance floor to a slightly raised seating area at the back. He noted a few crewmembers from his team and lots of new ones. :: Ruq’orb: oO This place might need extra security patrols. Oo :: He made a mental note for later, not that he expected trouble but with a full ship of civilians to cadets to the new officers to high ranking ones you just never know. As he sat, he started his second favourite thing watching people and practising his mental ability to try to feel their emotions. He had empathic abilities but no telepathic. In his past, he’d used his ability to gather information this had lead to him spending time in jail. It had also made him learn several things about him and computer skills. :: :: He smiled at the feelings he was getting the room was full of love, fun and enjoyment. Some from the dancing, music but some from the new mission and the adventure ahead of them. He looked forward to the experience of the exploration, also to meet new people. He enjoyed company at two hundred and sixty-four years old he was still young for his species almost a young adult. As he listened to the music, it started to bring back a memory from his past at the same time he began to feel his head pound only for a moment, but at that moment, he’d remembered hours of the memory. :: :: He checked the time on the table padd it was almost time to go see Conrad try to knock that arrogant Zackdorn of his peg or so he hoped. He still had a short time to watch, listen and feel this place. :: -TBC- Ensign Ruq'orb Chief of Security - USS Apollo-A USS Apollo-A Staff Member A238806K10
  14. ((Bridge, USS Apollo-A)) :: The Klingon was inspecting his new station. People walked all around him. A huge bridge also meant a very busy one. Meanwhile, he reflected on the Klingon language and on how it affected cultural differences. That's why, when he noticed an officer was next to him, apparently awaiting for something, his Klingon upbringing took over. :: E'riQ: nuqneH? :: Pause. :: Oh, sorry. I meant, hello. I'm E'riQ. :: Only then did E'riQ realize the human was standing at attention. He realized he was the HCO officer he had been waiting to meet. And the man visibly relaxed seeing how E'riQ was not saluting with any formality. Klingon ships were less prone to etiquette. Klingon civilian ships, where he had spent most of his life, much less so. For him, ran was useful to know who gave the orders, but not to replace names. :: Termine: uhh… Hello sir! Lieutenant Junior Grade Dante Termine reporting for duty. E'riQ: A pleasure to meet you. I think we will be sharing these two seats quite often, so I was looking forward to this encounter. :: He said that with his more polite smile. Which required some effort. He had tried his more sincere smile in the past, and he had learned that it made most federation citizens a bit uneasy, with his marked fangs and all. So he smiled with his lips closed this time. Usually, once he got to know people and they shared his contagious loud laugh, they were more eager to see him smile openly. :: :: The human responded with a similar smile, and a slap in the arm, which surprised E'riQ in a good way. Had him been around Klingons? Or was he naturally Klingon-y in his reactions? In any case, good signs! :: Termine: Buy’ ngop! <<literally: the plates are full!>> I am honoured to server under you Lieutenant! I’m sure they will sing songs about out adventures! E'riQ: oO He even speaks Klingon? How many people aboard do? Oo :: He was pleasantly surprised, but also intrigued. It's not as if his people had become trendy, was it? They were allies, but the relations were not as close as they had been. :: E'riQ: Do you speak Klingon? Termine: Uh, yes sir, a little. :: E'riQ wondered how that came to be, athough he knew Starfleet Academy offered several courses for those interested in his culture. :: E'riQ: Great! Where were you before the Apollo? Termine: I was the alpha-shift OPS officer on the Atlantis until about four hours ago. Before that the academy. E'riQ: Oh, I see. Are you a pilot? :: E'riQ was. Or, more accurately, it's what he enjoyed most in his Starfleet role. Having his own civilian ship, he had been in basically any role, and in HCO he needed a lot of those skills. But now that there were people covering every role, the helm is what he enjoyed. :: Termine: To be honest sir I joined Starfleet to lead, and that’s where I’m going to work my way to. Until then I’m here to do my job and make you proud. If you need someone wined and dined, a com-channel cleared or a relay replaced I’m your guy. :: Termine seemed eager to serve. E'riQ wondered if he was really, or these were steps in his dream to lead. E'riQ was not in a hurry to the central chair. And Kahless said real leaders have leadership thrust upon them against their will. But he understood the ambition. :: E'riQ: Have you seen the size of this ship? We won't ever run out of things to do. :: An air of solemnity fell upon the room as the Stratigo entered. E'riQ motioned towards the station monitors and for his HCO mate to just listen. They observed the exchange of command. E'riQ got tense a few times. He knew the Zakdorn were famously seen as the most brilliant strategic minds in the quadrant. But, as most Klingon, he doubted a reputation that was not proved regularly. :: Renos: Thank you Stratigo Bokzadeshti, we are most grateful to you and all of Zakdorn for all your hard work and effort. We’ll put this marvellous ship to good use. Bokzadeshti: That remains to be seen. Permission to disembark, captain? :: E'riQ clenched his fist. He could not believe the KDC had at some point considered an alliance with Zakdorn (although the position of the planet had something to do with it). :: E'riQ: oO Klingon allied with them? Ha! If they are all that arrogant, the first Klingon captain they had to work with would stab them and test their famous defense system! Oo Renos: Permission granted. Please feel free to disembark at your leisure. With heavy shipping around Zakdorn at the moment, we’re not cleared for departure until 0700 tomorrow. :: What? With a heavy sigh, E'riQ looked at the human he'd be working with, his face showin both disappointment and surprise. He was eager to take this gorgeous whale out of dock. That would have to wait. :: :: Thinking on where to pass the time until next morning, other than dinner with the captain, he looked around the room, until his eyes locked on something special: a black collar. Due to his background and species, there were two kinds of people he always had rough starts with: counselors and Intel officers. This time in, he decided to work proactively to solve that. :: E'riQ: Excuse me. Could we have a word? McLaren: response E'riQ: Either an office or a drink. As official or unofficial as you want it to be. McLaren: response Lieutenant E'riQ, son of Lo'PeH Chief of HCO- USS Apollo-A D238701JV0
  15. ((USS Columbia - Main Shuttlebay)) ::Was it possible to be stalked by an inanimate object? Did it's complex computer circuits feel some sort of wanton affection for the Gorn that couldn't keep it away? No matter how far he seemed to run, he always ended up back inside the giant squashed bug that is the Columbia. Any soreness he felt about it was more in jest then truth, he just hated to admit that he loved this ship in return. It wasn't the fastest, nor the prettiest. It wasn't as smart as some of the new dedicated science ships, and it wasn't as powerful as a the massive star cruisers being pumped out by the shipyards. It was old, it was clunky, and even the new carpet couldn't hide the aged architecture and nearly retro design behind them. Old fashioned would be the term, just like the Gorn that once more patrolled it's halls. Even now he could feel his legs ready to stride back down those corridors without so much of a second thought for navigation, muscle memory that had not been lost despite his time on the starbase, and the Avandar before that.:: Whittaker: To Captain Theo Michelangelo Whittaker, Stardate 239509.10. You are hereby requested and required to take command of the U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 as of this stardate. Signed, Admiral Vivian Hauke, Starfleet Command. ::beat:: Computer, transfer all command authorisation codes to myself. Voice authorisation: Whittaker Delta Five. ::Tatash watched, and waited, as the ship sucked in this new information, mulling it over in those processing engines:: Computer: Transfer complete. U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 now under the command of Captain Theo Michelangelo Whittaker. Pandorn: Captain on deck!!! ::smiles at his CO:: ::Without thought he snapped to attention. Some habits are impossible to break, clanking his heels on the deckplate:: Any: ? Whittaker:Well, there you have it people. Our new ship. We have an exciting opportunity ahead of us. This is a storied vessel with a lot of history behind her. Let make sure that we do her all proud and that the history books never forget our names. G’Renn: Time to add another chapter to this ship’s history. Any: ? Whittaker: ::with a smile, he brought the ceremony to its logical conclusion.:: Dismissed. Tatash: Walk and talk, people.::he growled:: Last thing you want is a cargo shuttle landing on your head. ::He delivered it with a light, good humored tone. Already he could see more running lights hovering outside the large force-field protecting them from vacuum, there was apparently still a lot of supplies and crew to get on board, more then just using the transporters would allow. People broke into their own teams, each of them looking genuinely excited to be on board the illustrious vessel, although he held himself back a little making sure the landing pads were clear of personnel before moving to the side of the door, his yellow eyes watching the next couple of vehicles touch down safely before heading out of the main door himself. The corridors smelt new at least, the carpet freshly laid and plush enough that his massive boots sunk into its surface. The new paneling giving what used to be brightly lit beige a more naval tone yet still capturing some essence of regalia. It was a facelift and a half, but still he knew the layout despite it's visually pleasing upgrade. That was reassuring, the thought that they would have rearranged any of the key area's was practically heresy. He nodded to people as he slowly walked past, the same inspection route he'd taken hundreds of time, the same predictable set of events that a security chief undertook before each voyage. First he would make sure they had their teeth, then he'd make sure the ship had hers. His first stop was towards the deep heart of the ship, located near the brig for obvious reasons (which, without any prisoners in, was a pointless trip).:: Computer: Authorization Required. Tatash: Tatash, Alpha One Nine Eight Three. ::The door opened with an obedient hiss, the weapons locker of the Columbia laying itself bare. Racks of weapons, not as many as the massive QM on Starbase 118 and certainly none of the heavy weapons the corps used. The key difference here was everything here was so very new. Compression rifles, standard phase rifles, armor, grenades, everything pristine almost in it's packaging. The room smelt of lubricant and polish, the tang of energy cells fully charged, the faint hum of the security fields keeping the weapons in check unless authorized to fall. But most importantly, there wasn't an empty space. He threw a brief glance down to the PADD he'd been clutching since arrival, then looked back up at the numbers above each rack. All present and correct. Good. His next stop was a few further decks up, after leaving the armory locked behind him. The doorway here was larger, a lot more solid. More designed to keep anything inside from exploding outwards.:: Computer: Authorization Required. ::He wished silently the damned thing would just remember him:: Tatash: Tatash, Alpha One Nine Eight Three. ::This door clunked open with a loud whine, revealing the racks upon racks of ominous looking black oblongs. Again, no gaps in the housing and every mount seemed to have one of the large torpedo's nestled snugly inside it. Again, the entire room was new. Gone was the old fashioned slip n slide style of loading that needed several people to operate. This was newer, faster and deadlier. He tapped a claw on the small console at the end of the mechanical spool, the entire housing shifting with a steady clunk as each shelf was rotated to bear its deadly charge if required.:: Tatash: Computer, how many torpedo's are on board? Computer: One hundred and eighty. ::The perfect number, If anything this was starting to get a little boring.:: Tatash: =/\= Tatash to Pandorn Pandorn: =/\= ? Tatash: =/\= You have a full magazine down here. Loading system functional. Pandorn: =/\= ? Tatash: =/\= You're welcome. Out. ::It would be up to Tactical to make sure the phasers were operational, there was so many arrays dotted all round the ship that a visual inspection of each would take hours, if not days of work. Torpedo's he could count, complex engineering work, not so much his forte Again he strode out, his routine swinging him back towards the brig, this time into his own security office. Small, compact. Barely room for a desk and a couple of chairs on the other side along with the usual readouts of the ship. Already someone had put the box containing his handful of desk ornaments considerately down for him on the [...] wood surface. For a brief second he felt himself almost pulled back in time, had he been standing in this same place sometime, wondering how he would cope with the duty suddenly thrust on him as a head of department? When did that anxiety become replaced with the quiet confidence of slipping on a comfortable old glove? Still, his mistake back then had been spending too much time in this room. It had been that which had stunted him developing friendships, leaving him moping around for the first few missions. A mistake that he had no intention of repeating as he moved back to the turbolift:: Tatash: Bridge. ::The machine whirred upwards at a breakneck pace, he was almost convinced he'd left his stomach down where he'd embarked by the time he'd been practically vomited out onto the bridge. He blinked a few times, now -this- was a new set up. Gone was the sweeping arcs, the aged design of Starfleets optimistic classic design replaced with the more genuinely navyesque modern decor. But still everything hummed with machinery, beeping and whirring like a tinkerers toybox. It was, if anything, overwhelmingly complicated.:: Tatash: This is a bit much. Any: ? ::He hadn't really been aware he'd said it out loud, gesturing with his hand to the controls so polished that the overhead lights gleamed off them:: Tatash: I mean, look at it. It's all so -new-! Any: ? --- Lt. Commander Tatash Acting Chief of Security USS Columbia C239108T10
  16. Jarred Thoran

    LtCmdr. Shayne: The Rippling Tide

    Another outstanding sim from @Randal Shayne. I also love the exposition you add to your sims! ((Corridors of the Recreation Deck, DS26)) Shayne: It is… improving. Slowly. I… turned down the first officer position a few days ago. I think… I think that may have been a mistake. ::The wind left him with that admission, and he hung, frozen in space, waiting for the smallest breeze to push him one way or the other. He was vulnerable, judged, but he didn’t mind. It came easy. The surrender of control, though brief and frightening, was blissful. Which way would he descend, he wondered? This was a crossroads- an important one. A vital one. Clear of head, dopey of countenance, he waited for path to be chosen.:: ::When it finally arrived, the breeze was not an indistinct, lilting gust as he’d been expecting. It shocked him, and the realm his sleep-deprived mind had created, like an earthquake, gently but firmly reintroducing him to reality. The lightning bolt stunned him from within, and he returned to the present.:: ::He smiled slightly as he felt MacKenna’s urgent yet soft grasp. So here was Zeus.:: MacKenna: I… ::But why was this the result of his revelation? She seemed struck, much as he had been, and not in a way he’d witnessed before. It was not understanding, or surprise. It was a sympathetic vibration that Shayne, for the life of him, could not grasp. He wondered what he’d done, what had triggered this latest surge of feeling that he could not help but feel as well.:: MacKenna: Let’s go somewhere. ::The wistfulness was gone, the fear tran[...]ed into purpose. Shayne could only watch with enraptured fascination as this timid, quiet woman remained quintessentially herself, but now marched, infused with a purpose he was as yet unable to fathom. They were so similar- how could this elude him? What would make him do precisely those actions, feel precisely those things?:: Shayne: Lead on. ::And she did. Winding through corridors, not terribly fast, but with burning need. He could sense it, knew it utterly. And he knew also that however far they walked, their quest had just begun, and would be completed on a different plane then the one they padded down now. The corridors were livid, projected upon by her drive and his adoration, so that the soft green metal glowed with glee in Shayne’s ravenous eyes. Throughout their inspired traipse, not once- not ever- did he worry about where he was going, or where they’d end up. He trusted her, and knew her. Wherever she was… was right.:: MacKenna: I understand how you feel. I’ve been there once. But it gets better. ::How could she not? This level of awkwardness, of fear… its consequences were not unique to him. How many opportunities had MacKenna passed by, just like him? Now he understood the urgency, the need to get him to understand that she’d exhibited. But… the intensity… there was something more. Something Shayne was not gathering.:: Shayne: I trust you. But… does it? They’ll not ask me again- not if they’re in their right minds. ::Where was the vitriol? The pounding, overwhelming self-loathing that had carved itself into his mind over the past few days? Still there, he realized, hidden away, and completely overshadowed by the realization that something good- someone good- was before him. A voice in the wilderness.:: ::How young this science officer was, youthful beauty and aged, tortured reservation wrapped into one astonishing individual. Her eyes were timeless, but the more he looked, the more he desired to know. A lieutenant commander already? Astounding. Even if he did not connect with her on a spiritual level, Shayne realized he was in the presence of someone uncommonly gifted.:: MacKenna: ? ::He stared at her, before quickly diverting his gaze through sheer will. Even in his shock and amazement, her safety and comfort were foremost on his mind. He wasn’t alone. He mulled the foreign concept in his swirling brain, trying to attach it to some semblance of reality. No, not foreign. More like a friend of old, waving from the distant sand dunes that granules of time had blasted smooth.:: ::He wanted to hold her, hug her, be with her. She was perfect. It wasn’t even a product of his masculine handicap- yes, she was a stunning person in every way, but this was a purer calling. A genuine, unconditional love- the sort of love that allows you to realize there’s something worth sticking around in the world for.:: ::Gently- for he still tread carefully upon the glassy lake of her consent- he took her hand in both of his, and raised it to his chest, slowly and smoothly.:: Shayne: From the bottom of my heart, thank you. :: “For helping me. For opening yourself up to me. For sharing. For caring. For daring. For… pairing”. He thought better of voicing these silly things. She’d understand better this way, he hoped. Whatever happened now, she had a friend. And anything else she could possibly desire that was within his power to grant.:: Shayne: oO You need only give a sign. I am here for you. Oo MacKenna: ? Tag/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Ops Officer/ Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  17. ((Corridors Outside Sickbay, USS Columbia)) ::It had been a very long time since she had last stood in this place, and it looked entirely new. Nothing was left of the battles fought, save for the memories (or lack thereof) and the log entries and damage reports from years prior. It hadn’t taken Kali long to uncover her link to the ship before it had been refit, and in a way she hoped that her history with her would open the doors to some memories somewhere.:: ::But here as she stood, just outside the doors where the dragon had apparently crashed through the bulkhead, she still remembered nothing.:: ::With a frown, she looked down at the padd in her hand at the damage reports and the images they included. Deep claw marks marred the metallic walls and the doors themselves had been thrown haphazardly to the side in the process. Dark stains on the deck left little to the imagination when it came to the price paid by those who defended sickbay that day, and the lighting itself seemed dim in the aftermath of it all.:: ::And yet Kali could not remember any of it.:: ::The logs from the event that would eventually take her and her crew through the waycorridors to Odyssey station, in another galaxy, outlined the trials the crew faced from the newly named Draco Stellarium, barely making it out of the Azure nebula alive. The destruction to the ship was awful and complete, leaving entire sections uninhabitable until their return to the Starbase.:: ::As Kali looked up at the door she saw, nor remembered, any of it. The pristine surfaces only rang of a newness that didn’t come with history. The carpet on the deck was clean and fresh. There was no trace of claw marks or death, aside from the idea that this was sickbay. And in her mind, there was no trace of any of the memories that should have been there.:: ::With a sigh, she stopped thinking about it. The pictures on the padd looked so unfamiliar, not just in the context of her past, but in the context of the present as well. The ship had truly been refit, completely and totally. It shone like it had just come off the assembly line, still in need of her first shakedown cruise. Perhaps that was what threw her…:: ::Apparently it threw her so hard she didn’t even notice that she was blocking the door until she was nearly face to face with an officer she didn’t know.:: Duyzer: ? ::Kali blinked, focusing her crystalline blues on the person who had seemingly materialized in front of her.:: Nicholotti: Oh, I’m sorry. ::Smiling.:: Guess I kind of got lost with my thoughts there. Duyzer: ? ::The ambassador stepped back to give him room to enter the corridor. She nodded in greeting.:: Nicholotti: Indeed. I don’t recognize you. Are you newly assigned here? ::Of course he was. Kali let her own mischievous grin dance across her face at her own question. They were all newly assigned, so this officer she didn’t know was also.:: Duyzer: ? ::With a slight bit more flourish that was probably necessary, Kali bowed slightly, letting her long raven hair fall over her shoulder.:: Nicholotti: Ambassador Kalianna Nicholotti, at your service. Duyzer: ? TAG/TBC Fleet Captain Kalianna Nicholotti Federation Ambassador at Large As simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Ash MacKenna Chief Science Officer USS Columbia R238605KN0
  18. ((Main Shuttlebay - Deck 3 - U.S.S. Columbia)) ((Time Index: Approximately three days after the transfer orders)) Whittaker: oOSomebody pinch me.Oo ::As the small craft, a Class-8 Starfleet shuttle came to a soft and virtually imperceptible stop as it landed on the deck of the U.S.S. Columbia’s main shuttlebay, Captain Theo Whittaker was almost overcome by a strange wave of disorientation that made him think for one brief second he was dreaming and that this was not reality. The fact that Starfleet Command had seen fit to assign him to the newly refitted Columbia as it’s commanding officer (and then hand him and his crew a historic long term assignment thousands of miles from the heartlands of the Federation) had yet to sink in and had been many moments in the preceding three days where he thought he would wake up in his cabin aboard the Blackwell.:: ::Gazing out of the [...]pit’s transparent aluminum window he saw a number of officers waiting for him. He picked out all of his senior staff from the Blackwell as well as several other officers and dignitaries who had been invited to witness the re-commissioning of the historic Nebula-class starship. He had specifically requested that Starfleet Command keep the senior staff together for this assignment, knowing that each and every one of them deserved the chance to prove they were ready and able to handle whatever challenges the galaxy’s edge would throw at them.:: ::The brief disorientation passed and he turned to regard his First Officer, Lieutenant Commander Jarred Thoran, who had made the trip from Deep Space 26 to the Columbia with him. He wondered if the man was as thrown by this turn of events as he himself had been.:: Whittaker: oOThe man works his way through the chain of command, finally gets to trade his yellow collar for red and then finds himself reassigned!Oo ::at that moment he realised that it was not unlike his transfer from engineering to command, only it had happened after the reassignment and he had been the only one from the Columbia (at first) to be positioned aboard StarBase 118.:: Shall we do this, Number One? Thoran: ? ::Theo grinned as excitement took hold of him. Here he was, about to step foot back on to his first posting out of the academy-only this time he was coming back as it’s Commanding Officer. He had, in many ways, come full circle. Columbia had long held him under its spell and it was and always would be his ‘first love’. Engineers across the fleet were often derided for their attachment to starships and anthropomorphizing them, but when a ship was as unconventionally beautiful as the Columbia was- it was not hard to do do; especially after the latest round of refits that had ensured it could operate for well over half a decade without the support of a major starbase.:: Whittaker: oOShe truly was a thing of beauty.Oo ::He got to his feet and made his way to the rear of the shuttlecraft, Thoran following behind him. The side hatch opened and Theo stepped on to the deck of the Columbia. He paused to savour the moment, taking a deep breath of the crisp air and for the first time he realised that this was not a dream.:: ::It was real.:: ::He was home.:: ::His standard issue duty boots clacked against the surface of the deck plating, causing them to echo in the cavernous shuttlebay. An enlisted crewmember stepped forward and blew into a boatswain’s whistle, causing all of the assembled Starfleet officers to snap their legs together and throw their arms rigidly against their side; all of them standing to attention. Even those civilians who were watching joined them despite not being required to (though they were a good deal sloppier). After another deep breath, Theo lifted his left hand to read from the PADD that he had quite forgotten his was holding. His thumb brushed against the touch screen which activated the device and displayed the orders he was to read out.:: Whittaker: To Captain Theo Michelangelo Whittaker, Stardate 239509.10. You are hereby requested and required to take command of the U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 as of this stardate. Signed, Admiral Vivian Hauke, Starfleet Command. ::beat:: Computer, transfer all command authorisation codes to myself. Voice authorisation: Whittaker Delta Five. Computer: Transfer complete. U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 now under the command of Captain Theo Michelangelo Whittaker. Any: ? ::That was it. The Columbia was now his. Strangely, it felt a little anticlimactic as he had dreamed about that very moment for as long as he had been a commissioned officer in the fleet. He felt that assuming a new command required something with a little more pomp and circumstance. But it was what it was. Dismissing the interlude of disappointment from his mind, he lowered the PADD and looked at the assembled officers. A few, well chosen words felt appropriate at that moment.:: Whittaker:Well, there you have it people. Our new ship. We have an exciting opportunity ahead of us. This is a storied vessel with a lot of history behind her. Let make sure that we do her all proud and that the history books never forget our names.Any: ? Whittaker: ::with a smile, he brought the ceremony to its logical conclusion.:: Dismissed. Any: ? ::As they all began to disperse, Theo looked to his Number One and beckoned him to approach with a wave of his index and middle finger.:: ::It was time to get down to business.:: Whittaker: Jarred, I’d like you to have the senior staff report for an assignment briefing in two hours time. And… ::he paused as a small smile took hold.:: ...have us ready to get underway for the Delta Vega system in an hour. Thoran: ? ::Looking around the shuttlebay, he imagined that he could see the entire ship. It was strangely familiar but so new all at once. Gone were the old Galaxy-class aesthetics that had defined his first two tours of duty aboard her, replaced instead by deep reds and navy blues with gold trims. Every aspect of the Columbia outside of her main spaceframe had undergone extensive refits; an uprated sensor suite based on those found aboard Luna-class explorers, dozens of new science labs, a new bridge module that blended the Sovereign-class with the Galaxy, improved warp engines and even a brand new Captain’s Yacht to replace the ageing Kumari. Yes, he felt like he knew the Columbia while also acknowledging that, in many ways, she was complete stranger to him.:: ::He had the chance to get to know her all over again.:: Whittaker: oOSomebody pinch me.Oo Thoran: ? ::His Executive Officer’s voice pulled him from his reverie. Caught unawares he blinked, struggling for a moment to understand what Thoran had just said.:: Whittaker: Hm? Oh, my apologies. I was just caught up in my own thoughts. ::a warm smile, almost one of love, danced across his face.:: I got her back, Number One. :: he said as he whirled one finger around to indicate the starship as a whole.:: I can’t quite believe it. Thoran: ? Any: ? TAG/TBC! OOC: And we're off! Have a wonderful time everyone. I cannot wait to see what we come up with! -- * -- Captain Theo M. Whittaker Commanding Officer U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 ID: 239203TW0 -- * --
  19. Theo Whittaker

    Lieutenant Commander Shayne: Divulging

    (Holosuite, DS26)) Shayne: Indeed. He is incredible. Whatever you did, sir, I thank you for it. ::Smiling slightly.:: ::Awkwardness, ineffectuality, a fear of creating problems that bordered on impotence- this was the reality that Shayne had come to see in himself. His need to find fault in his own actions would have made Hornblower look like a guidance counselor in comparison. Of all these faults, and many more, however, there was one skill Shayne could not deny possessing.:: ::He was very, very good in emergencies.:: ::Leaving behind the insipid, quiet, and contrite individual in the face of danger or strife, Shayne could immediately- and painfully temporarily- become another man. Focused, attentive, steely eyed and able to spring into any role a situation required. And now, despite the fact that they were in perhaps the most pleasantly non violent environment conceivable, despite the fact that he and MacKenna both were surrounded by peers, comrades and compatriots who had already made their well-wishes known, Shayne felt his senses perk up. No, that wasn’t true- his senses had been quite perky; MacKenna had assured that, and though he was still digesting his feelings and attempting to think past the initial thrill of contact (literally and figuratively), a higher calling urged him. MacKenna was in pain- anyone with a similar constitution could see that. And if there was something he could do about it, he would. The ship might not be falling apart, but there was a way he could help. And this he’d never turn down.:: ::So he had taken the unusual act of engaging others on his own terms- definitely a new sensation, especially with a fellow of conversation that bore as high a rank as Taybrim. Yet, he was pleased he had been able to. It allowed him to move past the ambiguous, if only for an instant, and focus on the concrete- a form of understanding in high demand for those as blatantly neurotic as he.:: Taybrim /Jolara: ? ::He listened, interested, but his [...] boldness, momentary like the high of a drug, began to fade in his breast. The confidence deflated, the glow abated. He felt like he was falling, back into the monotony of himself. A glance at MacKenna gave him just enough of a bolstering to do what had to be done.:: Shayne: I’m sorry to break this up, but I must leave to attend to something. Commander MacKenna, I don’t want to impose, but if you have a moment, I could use your assistance. ::The words had not been considered and yet somehow, on autopilot, he’d made his excuses, apologies and requests with a minimal of bumbling. He’d even managed to sound appropriately officious- this mustn't appear to be anything but an unfortunately timed request for purely operational assistance.:: ::Why though? He wondered for the briefest of moments. Would not Taybrim and Jolara sympathize and understand? But again, this wasn’t about them. It was about MacKenna. Any such understanding, even meant in the best interests of kindness and respect, would mortify the poor woman, if her previous behavior was any indication.:: ::To his delight, the answer was not long in coming.:: MacKenna: ::Smiling slightly.:: I’d love to. ::Shuffling slightly, she began moving toward the door. Shayne casually followed- and in this case, “casually” meant “with a stiffness rarely seen before or since”.:: Jolara/Taybrim: ? MacKenna: Have a good night. ::With that, both individuals exited the room, each doing their utmost to appear as natural as possible. Shayne had the impression that, despite his best efforts, or indeed because of them, he bore the appearance of a penguin with its [...] on fire. MacKenna, following behind, likely bore superior grace, if only due to the fact that she was not Shayne. In any case, MacKenna and the fraught second officer managed to escape the oppressive friendliness of their comrades and companions. For the first time, they could be alone.:: ::Of course, instinct and practicality drove them to continue their march onward- the corridor was still a painfully public space. But even as the some of the doubt returned to Shayne, some of the apprehension took its familiar place in his chest, the slight decompression of MacKenna’s shoulders made it all infinitely worthwhile.:: ::The silence was electric and tranquil- peaceful in its comfort and livid in its excitement. The anticipation was there, of course, the ambiguousness hovered, but it seemed like, whatever happened, the outcomes could only be good.:: MacKenna: Thank you. ::Her words! To him! With no one around! And most importantly, he’d been right! She did want to escape! Dear god! Shayne could’ve dissolved into tears right there, but he was slightly stronger than that. So he simply inclined his head in a slow, kind display.:: Shayne: You are most welcome. ::Shayne had often heard the platitude, “be the change you wish to see in the world”. Well, he certainly wished that someone would have extracted him from social situations early in his career. Perhaps, for once, he was living up to that ideal.:: ::They kept walking, the shared silence of two beings that didn’t require speech to speak to one another. Shayne had not particular route in mind- his gambit had been played. But MacKenna didn’t seem to particularly mind. As the wandered in the low lighting of the starbase, Shayne realized he wouldn’t mind doing this for a month at a time.:: ::Finally, with an uncertain but smooth movement, MacKenna pushed back her mane of glorious crimson hair. Her pale face shined through, and for the first time he could get an unhindered look at the woman he’d saved from the torture of socializing. His breath stopped in his throat.:: MacKenna: I uh…well. What can I help you with? ::He stepped in slightly closer, making sure to keep a respectful distance. Shayne wanted her to feel protected and soothed, not threatened. And if he’d seen anything about her, it was how threatened she felt in the presence of another. He’d rather chew off his own arm than make her uncomfortable in any way.:: Shayne: You already have. ::He realized how true it was. Though he had learned, through struggle and error, how to survive such events, the fact was that didn’t enjoy them any more than MacKenna. She’d aided in his retreat, whether she realized it or not.:: Shayne: But. Um. There’s a… there’s a power fluctuation in… ::He stopped. It appeared that his fumbling was not gone, simply postponed. And now it reared its head when he could least afford it.:: ::With a sigh, he surrendered.:: Shayne: Would- would you like a drink? I mean, not back in there. Somewhere… quieter? MacKenna: ::smiling again.:: Sure. That would be great. ::But they didn’t move from that spot. Their eyes locked. Shayne’s surroundings fell away, lost to the vacuum that left him and her immovable and intact. He was so tired. So utterly exhausted. How had he stood before? She kept him awake, alert, the expression of care and vulnerability on her face giving him every ounce of strength he had left.:: ::She reached out to him, a gesture of intimacy Shayne would not normally permit or expect. He hated getting close to people. How was this happening? And yet, it felt right. It felt necessary. Designed. And he was too tired to fight against the will of the universe.:: MacKenna: Is everything alright? ::Even now, she cared. She felt. She worried. He wasn’t floating, but this came close.:: Shayne: Yes. ::His instinct was to lie, to protect, and to distance himself. It was what he was good at. But his diversion failed before it began. He knew the lie would not hold up to scrutiny. And besides, even if it did, Shayne knew that, wherever this relationship led and whatever it became, he did not want it based on lies. As painful as it was, he backpedaled.:: Shayne: It is… improving. Slowly. I… turned down the first officer position a few days ago. I think… I think that may have been a mistake. ::Or perhaps the right thing had been done for the wrong reasons.:: ::And how did this suddenly become about him? And how did he simply reveal a huge fact like that to someone he’d just met? Was that even permitted?:: MacKenna: ? TAG/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  20. ((Holosuite, DS26)) ::With the announcements made, and the surprise promotion granted, people were now milling about and breaking into smaller groups to converse. Way too many were approaching the new Captain, and for a moment she definitely felt for him, but that feeling turned back to herself when she found herself in the middle of a similar group and conversation as the others in the room. It had been some time since she had seen the now Captain Taybrim, but even though she was familiar with him, the need to socialize, and socialize in a socially acceptable manner was incredibly stressful.:: ::But somehow she muddled through, her mind distracted for the most part with other things. The parts of her that would normally be asking if she was speaking appropriately, making the right statements, or standing in a manner that expressed what she was hoping to express were focused on something else instead.:: ::And he was standing just a few feet away.:: ::In a way, that forced her anxiety up to another level, because her mind wasn’t focused on the interactions, she knew she was probably doing something wrong. Once more, she planted her feet and forced herself to stand still, but she wanted to do anything but. She wanted to leave and go somewhere she could breathe.:: Shayne: Indeed. He is incredible. Whatever you did, sir, I thank you for it. ::Smiling slightly.:: Taybrim /Jolara: ? ::The conversation kind of stalled, and the counselor seemed to look at some of the others in the room. For a brief moment, Ash wondered what it would be like to be so natural at moving from one group to another, speaking to many people here and there. A bit of sorrow mixed into the anxiety that controlled her just then, as she realized that would probably not be something she would ever learn.:: Shayne: I’m sorry to break this up, but I must leave to attend to something. Commander MacKenna, I don’t want to impose, but if you have a moment, I could use your assistance. ::The voice was something of a song, calming and soothing in a way she couldn’t explain, or didn’t want to explain. For someone so wrapped up in science and the minor details of how the universe worked, it was uncharacteristic but deep. In all her years she had only met one other person who had a voice like that, and she’d quickly learned that some things just couldn’t be explained away.:: ::She’d just met him, but there was something about him…:: MacKenna: ::Smiling slightly.:: I’d love to. ::She offered a nod to the others to say her goodbyes and allowed her feet to move her towards the door shortly after.:: Jolara/Taybrim: ? MacKenna: Have a good night. ::Knowing that the light at the end of the tunnel was right there and that all she had to do was avoid running out of the room and looking like she was nuts, she found a bit of strength to stand up a bit straighter and push her hair back ever so slightly as she followed Shayne from the room. It was already starting to clear, which made their path easier, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way. The surroundings faded into a background and her focus remained solely on him.:: ::It was that which kept her mind in one place until they were clear. As the doors closed behind them, Ash let herself relax ever so slightly. Her shoulders dropped just a bit as the tension, at least some of it, drifted off with the night. The corridors were empty now and Ash allowed herself to fall in step with him as they walked.:: ::Then finally she gathered all of the courage she could, and she spoke.:: MacKenna: Thank you. Shayne: ? ::Something about him told her that he understood. There was no explanation required. There was no need to elaborate. He’d saved her, in a way, and offered her an anchor in a stormy sea. The only thing she wondered was if he knew all he had given her in that short amount of time.:: ::As they walked, Ash grew more and more alright. With no one else around she almost felt at home. Finally, she pushed her long strands of fire red behind her ears, showing her pale face more than she had all night before looking over at him.:: MacKenna: I uh…well. What can I help you with? ::She almost said ‘commander’, but then thought better of it. Would ‘commander Shayne’ be better? Just Shayne? Randal? Sir? Internally she mulled over all of this, nearly sidetracking her cognizance from what was important.:: Shayne: ? ::Though the party was over for her, Ash was quite certain she didn’t want the night to end there. Yet, expressing that in the right way, well, that was a nightmare for her in and of itself. A new set of nerves overwhelmed her, though strangely enough the feelings were different. She realized then that in this moment she wasn’t really scared. Worry, maybe, or the questioning of what came next was certain, but for once she wasn’t fearful.:: ::And that spoke volumes.:: ::It wouldn’t have mattered what he said he wanted help with, she was perfectly content with it as long as he would be there too.:: MacKenna: ::smiling again.:: Sure. That would be great. ::Her eyes finally met his and held the gaze for more than a moment. For the first time she took it all in and was hit with a pang of concern. The extent of the fatigue in his eyes was far more than she’d previously glanced at, and it looked as if he’d be through a fight against something not long ago. Perhaps not a person, but definitely against something. It was strange, but she immediately felt worried.:: ::She stopped for a moment and reached out, with her real hand, unsure of what she was really doing.:: MacKenna: Is everything alright? Shayne: ? TAG/TBC Lieutenant Commander Ash MacKenna Chief Science Officer USS Blackwell Andaris Task Force R238605KN0
  21. Evan Delano

    Great Line from the Academy

    This exchange from a current Academy class made me laugh, so I wanted to share it.
  22. ((OOC: This is set on day six of shore leave.)) ((South Beach, Neva Island, Aheitga Archipelago, Lydor IX )) ::Brell had again seen that the islands would be open to the crew for some enjoyment during their time here in orbit of Lydor IX. The last few days he had been to several meetings with the Freeworld’s investigators to give his testimony and answer follow up questions they had. He very much needed some respite after dealing with legal matters. So when the topic of his previous trip to the beach came up during his weekly meeting with his chief engineer a plan was quickly set into motion. The one thing he had not done last time he brought the family to the islands was beachfront barbecuing. Something Dermont was keen to join in on.:: ::Once again Brell beamed down most everything they could need. Picnic tables, stasis coolers for drinks and the replicated food they would be cooking, along with anything else they could think of. The grill they were to use had to be replicated in parts and assembled on the surface by the current, and former engineers.:: ::Dermont’s frustrations and lack of direction the last couple of weeks had been weighing rather heavily on him. Raga’s deep issues and the Consortium still at large was something that older engineer was taking personally, despite rational thought to the contrary. So when the captain had suggested a day at the beach with an actual real grill they would cook food on, he jumped at the chance. It was work and it was food. Two things he loved.:: Dermont: oO Those durned pieces were heavier than anticipated… Oo ::Finally assembly of the grill was done and he took a chance to step back next to Brell and just appreciate the work they had accomplished. A two level grill with four separate side burners for pots and the like. A small section for broiling and one side would even be set to be used as a smoker. Counter tops had been set up at ninety degree angles to the massive grill, so the two chefs would be boxed in on three sides. They had almost created a kitchen in the sand. A grin came upon Dermont’s face.:: Dermont: Well, Captain...I guess it’s time fer the real fun part! Brell: Indeed, I have not had a proper cookout in a very long time. ::The human heaved a large cooler upon one counter and began uploading a few items. They were unsure of who was going to be attending this particular beach-side even, so more was better. Two giant racks of pork ribs were unloaded onto a chopping block, along with four huge blocks of ground hamburger meat. It had taken him some tweaking of the replicator to get it to product a color and fat consistency to his like, but when it did, he made sure he had lots of it.:: ::Next were blocks of bleu and cheddar cheeses, along with an assortment of veggies. Then came spices and a bag of apples. He was feeling good. He hadn’t cooked fresh since he had lived on Bolarus IX and today had kept him so busy he hadn’t had time to dwell on much of anything. He needed to get the apples on and the meats marinating and then he’d have his first real bit of free time today.:: Dermont: oO Of course...today is the day Brie is due ta arrive… Oo ::Brell too had brought a large stasis cooler filled with meat. Some he had let age for days since replicating to prepare for this event. He had a dozen ground Flk’ji patties, a dozen Nal’xi drumsticks, around forty shimmershells he planned on using a special family recipe for, and those well aged Relik steaks also numbered at a dozen. To add a vegetarian choice he had wrapped up seatubers in foil, along with some Xaize he would grilling in their husks, and had made a fresh kelp salad that would be set out when things were done. As Bolarus was poor in spices he had much fewer to add as put his various items on the grill as his human friend did. He often wondered if other planets would have used aging meat to add flavor like his people did if their worlds had less spices. Some worlds seemed packed with things to enhance flavor growing all about. :: Brell: oO If only a couple crew members show up we will have leftovers for the next week. Oo ::Grinning at his own thought.:: Oh well. Oo Dermont: I feel we’ve...ehh...been rather ambitious in our goals ‘ere... Brell: ::Standing back to take it all in.:: It is indeed quite a spread we have put on here. Dermont: Yessir. I certainly hope there’s a bit o’ assistance eatin’ all o’ this. ::Brell got to work once more, setting each cook zone to the precise heat they needed to be at for each of the items he was cooking, and ignited his side. Utilizing the flat top grill area for the shimmershells he began to add the spiced carro root glaze to each of the still glowing shelled mussels making sure he was getting enough on every last one.:: Brell: Now this is relaxing. Is grilling something you did often when living on a planet? ::That question brought back pleasant memories on Bolarus IX of his family and Mazius’ cooking along a beach a lot like this one. Of course those memories were immediately followed by far sadder ones. His smile turned sad for a moment, but he surprised himself. Normally following that thought train would lead him dark a darker and more volatile path. But now, while those memories were sad, it didn’t take away from the good times as much as it used to.:: Dermont: oO I’m sure the doc would say I’m learnin’ ta process my grief constructively...bugger ‘im...Oo Dermont: Aye, sir. We didn’t spend a lot o’ time on the ground, as those runs out ta the far colonies past DS6 ran long...but those couple o’ weeks between hauls, aye. Mazius’ father used ta make me cook terran hamburgers. O’ course, he made me age it a bit first... Brell: I grew up in an undersea farmstead, so we only ever did this kind of cooking when we went to one of the mainland beaches for an outing. Dermont: We ‘ad an apartment a few kilometers outside o’ the main metro area o’ Bolsetu. Just a skip down from the waterfront. Ya know, they’d been passin’ legislation ta keep several beaches there free from the development, so we ‘ad sand and sun right outside. Brell: If the water was a bit more teal, and the plants around us a bit more colorful this could be mistaken for one of those Bolarus beaches. Don’t you think? ::With an ale in hand, Dermont leaned against a counter for a moment and just stared out at the water. He could imagine Brie barely up to his knee splashing along the shore and Kurdan seeing how far he could swim out with Maz’s youngest cousins. For even a briefest moment he could even remember how it felt to have Kyleanna’s arms wrapped around him, trying to distract him and then sneak past him to steal a bit of food from the plate next to the grill. He blinked back moisture as he cleared his throat.:: Dermont: Indeed, sir. I was thinkin’ the same thing. ::A sigh.:: Those days on Bolarus were good times...the best o’ times. Brell: I do miss it, no world has quite matched the coastal beauty. Dermont: Exactly. Even Risa’ beaches, engineered though they be, cannae compare ta the shores of yer home, sir. oO Our home. Oo ::Leaving earth before he turned twenty, he had either called the deck of a freighter or the shores of Bolarus IX home. He had always felt more at home around the hardworking Bolians than he did around most humans. Granted, they tended to have a slightly more positive outlook than Dermont did, but that development was really more recent than he made it seem.:: ::Brell had left home for starfleet at nineteen and then returned after his first tour of duty. In those years he appreciated his homeworld in ways he never did in his youth. After living on, and visiting many other planets the uniqueness of his Bolarus were all the more apparent and something to be cherished. It was why he went so far to have things from home with him now.:: Brell: I try to keep as many reminders of it as I can around, plants in my quarters, the seaweed tanks, the little luminescent fish in them and such. ::Dermont turned back to finish up with the seasoning of his ribs so he could wrap them and put them on to slow cook. He checked his sliced apples mixed but the butter and sugar in the pot...nice. He turned to Brell as he wiped his hands on a towel:: Dermont: Captain, didn’t you say yer relatives run that lil’ place on DS6? Brell: Yes! The Blue sea Bolian Deli. My uncle Garll operated it for a long time, and now his son is keeping it going. ::Dermont gave a grin as more memories flooded him.:: Dermont: When Brie was a small, small thing, we’d stop there fer a bite. She’d have trouble with the replicated mess on the ship, but a fresh kelp salad would put her mood right, ever’ time. Brell: I have a large bowl of the fresh kind in the other stasis cooler to serve with everything. Dermont: Brie would love some. I’ll have ta make sure she knows. Brell: So, if you went to Garll’s that means you have heard stories you didn’t know were about me. ::Laughing.:: Dermont: ::A sly grin appeared through his beard.:: Well, now that ya mention it...there was an odd tale er two of a certain nephew twas smarter in the mouth than he was in the head. But that doesn’t sound like mah Captain at all... ::The husky Bolian looked over to the human though he was in the middle turning over everything he was cooking in a precise order. He gave him a look that was a coy attempt to look offended. It was only :: Brell: I will confirm or deny nothing! oO Though that most certainly was me. Oo Dermont: Bah, yeah...Bolian families are big. Probably plenty o’ nephews. ::He just trailed off with the grin fading as he took a swig of ale and looked away. Those tales spun darker sometimes...with that same nephew getting into trouble he almost couldn’t dig himself out of. Garll tales would start off comical, but one who was looking could always see the smile turn sad towards the end.:: Dermont: oO That boy couldn’t have been Brell. He’s literally the finest example of Starfleet that I’ve ever met… Oo ::Dermont filled the moments of silence by taking bigger swings and stirring his apples.:: Brell: Speaking of your daughter, isn’t she due here today. ::Happy for new conversation, he nodded and his expression became nervous.:: Dermont: Yessir...I haven’t seen ‘er in person since b’fore I graduated. So ‘ere’s ta positive thoughts and not makin’ a royal mess o’ things! ::He took another swig of ale.:: But anyways, sar, I know we love ta eat, but surely we can’t eat it all. Brell: With the amount of food here we might want to send up a message to Atlantis for anyone to join in if they wish. Dermont: Agreed. =/\= Dermont ta Atlantis =/\= Atlantis Ops: =/\= Atlantis here, sir. =/\= Dermont: =/\= The Captain and I seem ta ‘ave made too much food. How about spreadin’ the word any hungry folks should meet us down ‘ere. And we’ll save a bit fer yerself, too. =/\= Atlantis Ops: ::there could hear the smile in the man’s voice.:: =/\= I think that can be arranged, sir. And thank you, sir. Atlantis out. =/\= Dermont: So sir, you at a stoppin’ point? These shorts are trunks and I’ve got towels...fancy a swim? ::The Bolian grinned, and sat down his spatula, beginning to un button the loose fitting beach shirt he was wearing.:: Brell: Things are at a point they could simmer awhile, and as I learned when I brought the family down a few days ago. The water here really is splendid. ::They closed the grill hoods, and headed to the enjoy the pristine waters. Probably making quite a sight to any of the permanent planet residents unused to seeing unfamiliar aliens.:: ((OOC: We got this one out a bit later in the shore leave than intended, however either of us would be happy to backsim with any that wants to join in. Or feel free to mention your character stopping by in your own leave wrap up simming.)) Captain Brell - Commanding Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682 Academy Deputy Commandant E239109B10 & Lieutenant JG Valin Dermont Chief Engineering Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682 A239410VD0
  23. ((Brigand Cruiser “Rebuke”, Corridor - Deck Unknown)) ::The sound of screaming wasn’t exactly a rarity in those decks of the Syndicate ship Rebuke. However, it was the first time those walls had heard the laboured cries of a Laudean. By now the wailing had subsided into eerily melodic whimpers and gasps for clean air through the stench of her own sweat, blood, burnt hair and embarrassing urine. It wasn’t the poor girls fault. The urine wasn’t from fear or some unintended involuntary response. It was a side-effect, a by-product, of the electrical currents that were being forced through her from the electrodes attached to her fried, crispy and patchy haired scull. The room had seen this kind of thing before. It wasn’t about torture. - that was just a pleasant coincidence. The purpose of the currents, drugs, and implanted memories were about reprogramming. It forced those outside of the Syndicate to become the most loyal of operatives.:: ::The young Laudean woman Fasha wouldn’t be able to remember any of this place, nor the horrors that took place that day. She would wake up shackled in a cage with the others. Scars healed by dermal regeneration her head shaved clean. Her luck was about to change. She was going to be rescued. But she would be haunted by the shadows of these forgotten memories forever. They would lie deep in the black ocean of her subconscious. Then, one day, when her unseen masters were ready her memories and self would fade away and be replaced by what ‘they’ wanted her to be. Although she would live and move on, her life would never be hers again. She didn’t know it yet. How could she? But her tears that day were not shed for her pain. They were shed by her subconscious for her death.:: ((Brigand Cruiser “Rebuke”, Main Bridge)) Conn: The Thunder has dropped out of warp Magren. Jishi: So quickly? ::She laughed as she sat up in her chair.:: The Romulans would rule the galaxy if the Tal’Shiar moved as quickly. ::They had just informed the asteroid outpost of their pending arrival less than twenty minutes ago. Their operative must have been in the right place at the right time to get that tidbit of information so quickly and relay it to the Thunder. Her comment didn’t seem to be sitting well with their Romulan attache.:: Romulan: They move too quickly. Nothing verified, motives unchecked. If the Tal’Shiar worked as they do, the empire would have revolted or fallen centuries ago. They fell for your ploy far too easily. ::In a passive aggressive defiant tone.:: Perhaps, they merely lost track of us and decided it best to stop. Conn: Impossible! ::In protest of the accusation.:: I made certain they would be able to track us. Jishi: No. They were tracking us. They know where we are going. ::Jishi was confident in the plan and pleased with their progress. By the time they arrived at the asteroid outpost their Laudean sleeper would be ready. Starfleet would do what they always do - swoop in and save the day. Little did theyy know they would be returning to Til’ahn with a ticking time bomb in the facade of Laurel Fasha...:: ((Brigand Cruiser “Rebuke”, Corridor - Deck Unknown)) ::The room was quiet now. The corridor no longer echoed with terror and pain. Inside, on a dirty biobed, the living corpse of young Fasha lay cleaned and pristine like an ancient monarch on display. A dim, cold white overhead light, cast dark shadows over her calm face. Her eyes moved behind closed lids as she dreamed about sweet treats, beautiful creatures of fantasy, or whatever young Laudean girls dreamt about. Her mind and body experienced the kind of shock and trauma that a mind instinctively buries to protect itself. It would be weeks before the wraiths and demons of her death started to haunt her dreams. Then a few more before they started haunting her days too. But for now, at least, the numbness brought her peace.:: PNPC Magren Jishi The “Rebuke”, Commanding Officer And The Corridor - Deck Unknown As simmed by Commander Jorey - Commanding Officer USS Thunder-A Veteran Affairs / Training Team / CC T239002BJ0
  24. ((Midnight - Vessine Glade Camping Site, Trill)) ::The evening had worn on. Some had retired to their tents relatively early, while others seemed determined to party until the point of collapse. Unusually, she couldn't see Nkai leading the charge on that one, and she wondered what drunken mishap had befallen the Rodulan to take him out of the running so early. Perhaps something involving Marshall -- his chief conspirator in arms -- given that there was no sign of her, either. ::Her attention was drawn away from the revelries by the approach of a tall, broad blond. Dressed in jeans, a light shirt and sturdy boots, Walter looked perfectly at home in the countryside. He'd been missing for most of the evening, stealing away to the forests for a walk. One hell of a walk, given how long he'd been gone and how dusty his boots were. She didn't resent him the solitude -- she understood his need for it, especially now that he was captain of one of the most cramped ships Starfleet had to offer. Everyone lived in each other's pockets aboard a Defiant, and it was hard for people like them.:: Reynolds: There you are. Good walk? ::He grunted in the affirmative, and took a seat next to her, surveying the scene in front of him. He smelt of the forest, of sweet tree sap and rich, earthy soil, and it was glorious. Oblivious to her appreciation, Walter watched the crowd, snorting in sardonic amusement at the drunken antics unfolding in front of him.:: Brunsig: Tomorrow will be filled with hangovers and regret. Reynolds: ::She chuckled.:: No doubt. ::As they sat there, he reached into his pocket, retrieving a small item and pressing it into her hand. The manoeuvre caught her by surprise, and he clearly anticipated her first question, answering her before the words had been formed in her throat.:: Brunsig: It was Oma Else's. ::Walter's grandmother. Quinn had only met her a few times, and it was quite clear where he had got his temperament from. The woman was as sharp as monofilament knife, in both intellect and tongue. She was a judge, and a skilled cellist, and Quinn had rarely heard anything so beautiful as the melodies she'd played -- except perhaps the duet grandmother and grandson had performed.:: Brunsig: She wants you to have it. Old family heirloom. ::Quinn looked down at the item in question. The small, luxurious box indicated that it was it was a piece of jewellery, though the blush-red of the fabric covering was faded with age, threadbare at the edges of the hinged lid.:: Reynolds: Shouldn't it go to your mum, then? Brunsig: ::He shook her his head, a frown pinching his blond brow together.:: Since she wisely extricated herself from He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and hitched up someone who actually treats family like human beings instead of punching bags, she's out of the running. ::That made sense, though it wasn't something she'd expected. She knew that Else had kept in touch with Walter's mother, and had supported her throughout the separation and divorce. But divorce meant that Annalise was no longer Else's daughter-in-law, and technically no longer in line to inherit. The thinking seemed a bit antiquated for the woman, but then again, so was the item in question -- perhaps Else was leaning on tradition more strongly for an heirloom than she otherwise would.:: Reynolds: I see. ::She looked down at the box, and began to push the lid open with her thumb when Walter spoke again.:: Brunsig: I asked you a question. ::For a moment, she was off-guard. Had she got lost in her own thoughts? It did happen, but she was quite sure it hadn't just happened. So what in the world was he talking about?:: Reynolds: ...No you didn't. ::He sighed and frowned, impatience mixed with something else that was quite unfamiliar. She resisted the temptation to reach out and touch him, and gain that extra, telepathic insight into his thoughts. It was a cheat, and an invasion, and at best it would annoy him.:: Brunsig: And you said you needed some time to answer it. ::The air got stuck in her lungs as she forgot how to breathe. *That* was what he was talking about? He wasn't wrong, she'd never given him a definitive answer… but then again, the question had been posed years and years ago. It was only when her head began to spin through lack of oxygen that she forced herself to suck in a deep breath, spluttering out her surprise afterwards.:: Reynolds: This-- ::She pointed a finger at the offending box in her palm.:: This is an engagement ring? Brunsig: If you want it to be. It's up to you what finger your wear it on, it's yours either way. I'm under instructions from Oma; "Sie hat dich so lange ertragen, mein Junge. Sie geht nirgendwohin. Sie ist Familie." ::Quinn's German was just about good enough to piece together the meaning. She couldn't imagine being with anyone else -- she didn't *want* to be with anyone else -- and she knew the feeling was mutual. He was hers, and she was his, and together with Dylan and Amelia, they really were a family. A slightly odd and somewhat complicated family, but nonetheless. ::Family. ::Her delay in responding prompted a frown from Walter, and he started to turn away. Impulsive and desperate to avoid causing him any pain, she leaned across, catching his cheek with her hand and pressing her lips against his. Such public displays of affection were usually anathema to them both, but he answered her kiss with the same abandon, caught up in the heat of that unique, curious moment where they were transitioning from devoted lovers to a couple engaged.:: Reynolds: Let's get married. ::She murmured the words against his mouth, and he responded in kind.:: Brunsig: If we must. ::She leaned back and laughed, shaking her head, and he grinned back at her. A flush of pink had caught hold on his pale cheeks, and Quinn was quite sure it was echoed on her own. Their shared blush only deepened when he flicked open the box in her palm, plucking the antique ring from its cradle, taking her left hand in his. ::The diamond cluster glittered in the firelight, flames reflected in the intricate gold band. It was beautiful -- perhaps a little more extravagant than she'd choose for herself -- but she was proud (perhaps a little terrified) to be the new bearer of a Brunsig family heirloom. To her surprise, it slipped onto her ring finger as though it had been made for her.:: Reynolds: It fits. Brunsig: I had it resized. Reynolds: You know my ring size? *I* don't even know my ring size. ::He huffed, rolling his eyes. Despite the show of annoyance, he was still holding her hand, and that shared connection betrayed the amusement and fondness in his heart. Walter didn't say it often, but he loved her, just deeply as she loved him.:: Brunsig: It never ceases to amaze me how someone as capable as you can be so utterly hopeless. Reynolds: It's part of my charm. Brunsig: ::Dryly,:: You keep telling yourself that, Cupcake. ::She grinned at him, and despite his best efforts, he smiled back, sliding his arm around her waist. There was a lot to think about, such as where to hold it, who to invite -- she knew for a fact her father would hunt her down to express his extreme dismay if he didn't get to be there -- and even how they'd marry. But for now she was content to enjoy the moment; the simple pleasure of being close to him and watching the world go by.:: -- Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds Commanding Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0
  25. (( Science Lab 22, Biochemistry Lab, Deck 8, USS Gorkon)) ::The lab was silent, ghostly even, the occasional sound of footsteps tapping along the deck plating, or the clanging of glass partially filling the absence of noise:: ::T’Pann’s slender body slouched over a metallic workbench, her dark, hawk like gaze, watching over a see-through petri dish. Accompanied by several analysis devices and a high powered microscope, cluttering the space around her. One hand, T’Pann used to hold the dish still, and another gently holding a tube full of a brightly coloured, yellow fluorescent liquid. T’Pann’s expression continuing it’s stoic dominance over her features. The steel bench was cluttered with PADDs, tricorders and other scientific equipment.:: ::T’Pann’s cold stare was broken ever so suddenly, by the dry sound of the doors sliding open, halting her from completing the next stage of her experiment. Irritation draped T’Pann’s features momentarily as several annoyingly energetic footsteps led to the inevitable breathing down her collar, all seeming to come much too soon. The peaceful silence of the labs, broken by a cheerful whisper, that escalated into a blaring shout.:: Sterling: So! Whatcha doin’? ::T’Pann moved away from the workbench, the tube still in her hand and her ringing like a bell. Only for the half vulcan’s eyes to meet with a familiar Tiburon/Terran hybrid, one who seemed to appear in the science labs far too often for than she really should. Ensign Iriin Sterling, a medical officer, primarily assigned to the ship’s morgue, sometimes referred to as ‘Mortisha’ by the crew, mostly due to her oddly cheerful approach to her profession.:: T’Pann: Rather delicate work, Ensign, I’d prefer it if you were a little more silent, i’m unable to focus when my ears are ringing. ::T’Pann spoke with a hint of sass in her tone, obviously attempting to express her displeasure of Sterling’s unrequired presence.:: Sterling: Sorry! I couldn’t help it! Our shifts ended early, mostly to celebrate being accident free for, get this, a whole 25 hours! :Her excitement bubbled like a steaming pot, bubbles of gigling joy practically secreting from her.:: ::Iriin backed off slowly, her posture easing onto an unoccupied console. T’Pann was oddly surprised at Iriin’s uncharacteristically docile state, much of the time she was described as, to put it lightly “Targ stool crazy.” by the other science staff that worked with her. Often taking to her work much more extreme methods than regulation would allow, often leading expedition teams into her idea of ‘fun’.:: T’Pann: I’m happy for you ::She replied in a sarcastic tone.:: Perhaps next time, a plasma burn may be more opportune. Sterling: Oh please! You love my presence! ::As T’Pann replied, she placed the tube of yellow liquid in a small rack beside the petri dish, before turning back to her salmon tinged crewmate.:: ::Truth be told, T’Pann found it difficult to maintain her stoic, “vulcanness” over her human side, especially around types such as Sterling, or even the more colourful Gorkon crew. The crew lacked harmony amongst their ranks, T’Pann often found herself concerned about the rowdiness demonstrated by the crew.:: Sterling: ::Iriin stepped forward:: So… aren’t you gonna introduce me to your… organisms? ::Iriin gestured to the experiment set up.:: T’Pann: Yes, you may. They’re a newly discovered form of amoeba, our scans detected them while we were in orbit of Sikuna. They replicate in a very odd manner, the amoebas use the remains from their own self combustion to reproduce at the end of their 2-4 minute lifecycle. Which seems to replace a cycle similar to mitosis. We have yet to figure out how this effect is achieved, our scanning equipment is not effective enough to penetrate the membranes of the organisms, let alone, locate the biological factors involved. ::T’Pann picked up a PADD.:: My hypothesis is that the proteins leftover contain the organism’s genetic information, which perhaps may be able to replicate itself, into forming a simplistic life form. Sterling: Interesting… though, i don’t understand why you’re not trying to modify a scanner. T’Pann: We’ve tried, yet our facilities aren’t advanced enough to attempt such an upgrade, though, we have several engineers on task with a tricroder that can scan the membrane. If we were on an Oberth Class, a Nova Class or even on Vulcan however, we’d be able to find a much simpler, and effective way through the membrane. However, since we are not on said starships, or planet, we must adapt using what materials we have. Sterling: That’s one hell of a membrane. Though, i do see your point. Our facilities aren’t as sciencey, or advanced as some other ships. It’d be a very bad idea if you had an Oberth class on the frontlines of the though, they’re science ships. I’d love to see the day when we get one of those Prometheus Class sickbays. I heard that the EMH program has shipwide access. ::T’Pann pouted slightly, turning away from the joyful Tiburon before her, picking up the tube of yellow liquid once again and placing the PADD nearby. T’Pann prepared herself to pour a small amount onto the petri dish, to act as a dye, which would allow her to observe the replicative process more closely. An archaic measure it was, as the countless exo/xenobiologists on board had been unable to scan the organisms more precisely. It appeared the membranes and the proteins were made up of an epidermal material that resisted conventional means, putting this advanced and civilised organisation in a tough space of waiting for an upgrade, or doing what they could in the name of science. T’Pann added several drops of the yellow liquid to the dish, before quickly slotting it onto the stage of the high powered microscope.:: T’Pann: That would be quite convenient. ::T’Pann’s icy, vulcan glare travelled down the eyepiece, observing a whole colony of yellow coloured, shapeless forms, going about their business as usual. Consuming nutrients, and reproducing. T’Pann watched carefully at the process of an organism over indulging, only to ignite itself moments later. In a matter of seconds the burnt remains slowly reconstructed vaguely similar life form, shortly before being interrupted once again by her loudmouthed colleague, but with a somewhat unheard of hushed tone.:: Sterling: So.. T’Pann, Baidan and I were wondering whether or not you’d be interested in filling in a spot at our jazz recital, which we’ve arranged to perform at the awards ceremony. One of our strings people had to pull out last minute, and we were wondering if you’d fill in with your... vulcan harp thingy ::T’Pann turned away from her microscope, turning to the salmon coloured medical officer on the tip of her heel. Her stoic impression, unchanged. The offer mildly peaked her interest, T’Pann had grown quite withdrawn from the instrument she’d been playing for years on end. She wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity, but nevertheless, it interested her to see how well a vulcan hard would fit in amongst the band.:: T’Pann: When will I be required to participate. Sterling: Hopefully after your duty shift, we were gonna have a meeting later tonight at 18:00 hours on holodeck 1, and maybe we’ll squeeze in a jam session, so bring your harp!. ::Iriin spoke, finishing her sentence with a ‘jazz hand’:: T’Pann: I will… consider your offer, I will see if I can accommodate your performance into my schedule Sterling: ::Iriin deepened her voice.:: It would be most illogical not to participate. I need another set of strings to go with my fiddle ::T’Pann sighed deeply, replying to Iriin’s vulcan impression with a disappointed glare.:: T’Pann: If you’re attempting to appeal to my human side, it is just as unimpressed as my vulcan side, Ensign Sterling. Sterling: ::S[...]ing.:: Well, it was worth a shot. ::Iriin tapped T’Pann’s shoulder, before shortly retreating to the door.:: See you at the meeting. Don’t be late! ::T’Pann replied with a solid nod, returning to her work of proving her own hypothesis. An oddly potent hum cut through the silence of the lab as data seemed to pour into her PADD, seeming to offer T’Pann a greater deal of focus in her work.:: ___________________________ Crewman 1st Class T’Pann - USS Gorkon - Science Officer ___________________________ Simmed By _________________________ Ensign Emilia Krugol - USS Gorkon - Security/Tactical officer - G239409EK0 __________________________
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