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I figured instead of having a monthly thread, we could just keep a running thread of funny instances in our sims.

((And the conclusion of "White Tribble" and "1 Hypo makes you larger, and 1 hypo makes you small" )) (( Ba'el's Mind, Paioke Colony-Drever IV)) The older Klingon again nodded approvingly to her. A look of approval on his face, W'mar: No, I am not. :: Takes another drink from his flask before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand:: So, if I am not really W'mar, as you say, then what am I? Ba'el stared at him for a moment before she lowered her gaze, unsure how to answer the question. W'Mar chuckled to himself for a moment before he spoke again. W'mar: Come now, this should be a simple question and easy to answer. I thought you were a trained "counselor', and not a trainee on her first cadet cruise. There was a mocking tone to his questions, and Ba'el could feel her own temper build in response. Ba'el: I am a Counselor! W'mar: Then answer the question! What. Am. I? Ba'el thought a moment before responding to his challenge. Ba'el: Since all of this ::Gestures around herself:: isn't real, then it is a construct of my unconscious mind which means ::Glares at W'mar:: You are as well. W'mar: ::nods:: Very good. Ba'el: Then what is all this about then? ::Glares:: Why now? The old monk met her stare, and the challenge it implied. It is a test of wills, but Ba'el refused to avert her eye's in deference to the older Klingon. W'mar's steely gaze was evenly matched with the fire in Ba'el's eyes. The standoff lasted only a moment before W'mar smiled and took another drink. tacitly yielding to the younger woman. W'mar: Good. I see you still have the heart of a Klingon warrior. Even if you reject the warriors path. Ba'el: I have not rejected the warriors path! W'mar: Oh? ::cocks his head slightly to the side:: You left your people, and joined starfleet to be a "counselor" for the glory of the empire I suppose? ::a dismissive gesture:: Bah! Ba'el took a deep breath to focus her thoughts and not give in to her anger. Ba'el: I left because that was the path laid out before me in my visions. Not every battle can be won in physical combat! Not every battlefield is so simple as an open field! Not every enemy is easy to slay! W'mar dismissed her statements with a wave of his hand. W'mar: Invisible enemies? in our minds? Perhaps human minds are vulnerable to these "enemies", But a Klingon mind is stronger. Ba'el: No, it is not. All minds are strong, Klingon or otherwise. But even the strongest ones can be worn down by unexpected foes, by enemies the mind cannot cope with. I have seen it with my own eyes. W'mar shakes his head in disbelief. W'mar: I'm confused. You talk of helping others minds, like a doctor, yet you also talk of fighting enemies that are unseen. So which are you? A healer of minds, or a Klingon Warrior? Ba'el leaps to her feet, fists balled, glaring angrily at the old monk. Ba'el: I AM BOTH A HEALER AND A WARRIOR! W'mar looked up at her with a stony look on his face. W'mar: Is that so? Tell me how this can be? Ba'el took a moment to regain her control before speaking again. her heart pounding in her chest. Ba'el: I stand with those who have been condemned to fighting a lonely battle. With no support, no reinforcements and no chance to rest and regain their strength. A battle against an enemy already entrenched within their minds. The enemy is tireless, their very strength can double the moment you aren't looking. It is a long campaign against almost impossible odds. Against such an enemy, every moment of survival is seen as a victory. For me, there is no more honorable combat than this. And I will never yield. W'mar looked at her in silence. The crackle of the fire filling the silence between them. Ba'el: This is an enemy that does threaten our people. An enemy against we have no defense. An enemy our people don't see as a threat. But it is there. And has already claimed the minds of those caught unawares. I have seen those who suffered amongst our people. They are treated as weak cowards, or simpleminded. But they have suffered at the hands of enemies that can make a Klingon's blood run cold with fear. W'mar: What enemies. We fear no-one! Now it was Ba'el's turn to be dismissive. Ba'el: The Borg for one. An enemy that cares nothing for honor, that views us as simply a resource to be harvested. The hearts of even the greatest of Klingon warriors will know fear. The fear of being robbed of the self through assimilation. The fear of defeat without a glorious death in combat. I remember seeing the Klingons rescued from the Borg on Boreth. They were hollow shells of themselves, and all but forgotten by their fellow Klingons. W'mar simply stared at her. Saying nothing. Ba'el: I was a young acolyte then. But I knew this was wrong. Kahless never turned his back on his people, and yet we claim to follow in his footsteps? The enemy had shown themselves to me. To fight them, I needed training I could not get in the empire. So yes, I turned to the Federation. And yes, I joined Starfleet. They had the knowledge I needed to fight this enemy. Someday I will return to the Empire. And when I do, it will be armed with the weapons. the skills, and the experiences of this path. She stopped to take a breath and looked down at him. Ba'el: I have freely surrendered my todays, for my peoples tomorrows. W'mar slowly regained his feet. He walked around the small fire to stand before Ba'el. W'mar: Your heart, is truly Klingon. With such fire, futures are forged. With a final nod of respect, the old Klingon monk begins to talk back to the tunnel he arrived from. Just before he enters, he turns to look at Ba'el on last time. W'mar: Ba'el, daughter of Laneth, of the house of Konjah. I wish you well on your path. Qaplah! Ba'el: Qaplah! Brother W'mar Ba'el watched him walk into the tunnel. eventually, he faded from sight. oO Well that was interesting. But I still don't know how to wake myself up. Oo From the tunnel, W'mar's voice could be heard one final time. W'mar: One more thing. Getting injured by animal traps will not help you get into to Sto-vo-kor. So try not to get darted again? oO Darted? Oo Pain suddenly flared in her hip and side. the burning sensation made her nerves scream in agony. She felt herself falling. Her last sight was the cavern floor rushing up to meet her before she blacked out. ((OOC: I think that should tie it up. Wake me up outside please.)) Ensign Ba'el Counselor USS Constitution-B C240012B13

((This is the continuation of "White Tribble" )) (( Ba'el's Mind, Paoike Colony-Drever IV)) W'mar: Ba'el, daughter of Laneth, of the house of Konjah. We need to talk. Ba'el: Talk? ::Tilts her head in confusion:: About what? The old monk simply grunted with amusement. He pulled a flask from within his robes, opened the cap and took a deep drink before he returned his gaze to her. W'mar: About why you are here. Ba'el was even more confused now. Ba'el: Why I am here? I do not even know how I got here! The last thing I remember was....was W'mar: Drever IV? Ba'el looked up sharply. The memory coming back to her. Ba'el: Yes! I was helping one of the colonists and went to get some water for his garden and.. The old monk laughed. Shaking his head upon hearing her words. W'Mar: Getting a colonist some water for his garden? Is THIS the path you left us to follow? And then what happened? Ba'el bristled at the old monks mocking a moment before she tried to recall what had happened. Ba'el: ::furrows her brow:: I went to get the water, as I started to walking back, I heard a noise in the underbrush, and tried to see what it was. Then it starts to get blurry and I must have blacked out. The old monk gave her an incredulous look before he took another drink from his flask. W'mar: Yes, that sort of thing can happen when you get shot in the 'oSrlq by a couple of darts! Not exactly the sort of tale to inspire your fellow Klingons with. The younger Klingon woman was now confused, embarrassed and angry Ba'el: Darts? ::Shakes her head in confusion:: Wait, am I dead? W'mar: No. Merely unconscious. Ba'el: Merely unconscious? ::looks around then back to W'mar:: So this is all in mind mind. W'mar: ::nods approvingly:: Just so. It's nice to see your wits haven't been completely dulled yet. Ba'el: If this is all simply in my mind, then you aren't really W'mar. The older Klingon again nodded approvingly to her. A look of approval on his face, W'mar: No, I am not. :: Takes another drink from his flask before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand:: So, if I am not really W'mar, as you say, then what am I? ((TBC: Gotta stop to make dinner, I will pick this up again soon.)) Ensign Ba'el Counselor USS Constitution-B C240012B13

(( Paoike Colony - Crever IV)) Beside the small pool, Ba'el lay where she had fallen. The simple, locally made, compound that coated the darts, was intended to only induce some mild disorientation and discomfort in local fauna. The darts, based on size, and dosage, were sufficient to encourage animals to avoid the colony without causing them any permanent harm. But Ba'el wasn't one of the local fauna. And her Klingon physiology reacted a bit differently to the compounds introduction to her system. It was nothing that would endanger her life, and she would recover in time. But for now, Ba'el was drawn into a very vivid dream. And every so often, her prone form twitched. The first thing she noticed was that she was very warm. A soft crackling sound and the scent of burning wood forced Ba'el to open her eyes. She found herself sitting on the ground in front of a small fire. She looked down at herself and was surprised to discover herself dressed as an initiate of the Followers of Kahless. Ba'el lifted her eyes to examine her surroundings. Though it was dark, she began to pick out enough details to know where she was. oO I know this place! These are the caves just north of the monastery on Boreth! Oo The last thing she recalled, was being part of an away team on Drever IV. So how did she come to be here? Her thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice. "So, you are awake at last." Ba'el looked up to see a figure swathed in a heavy cloak walk from the darkness and into the chamber. She watched them approach until the figure stopped.The figure pulled back the deep hood of their cloak revealing themselves to be a Klingon male, who was a great deal older than her. At once, she knew who he was. Ba'el: Brother W'mar? What is going on? W'mar: Be silent! The older Klingon settled to the ground, taking a seat across the fire from Ba'el. She remembered brother W'mar from her time at the monastery. He had been one of her tutors during her studies. W'mar was a harsh teacher who had expected his students to do more than simply memorize the words and repeat them when required. His students were required to apply critical thinking to what they read and how the writings applied to the universe as it is now, and not when when they were written. He conducted debates that were almost interrogations until he was satisfied that his students had a clearer understanding of the writings of Kahless. He glared at Ba'el for a moment before speaking again. W'mer: Ba'el, daughter of Laneth, of the house of Konjah. We need to talk. Ensign Ba'el Counselor USS Constitution-B C240012B13

(( The forests around Paoike Colony, Drever IV )) It was silent here and peaceful. Mostly. In the ten years of the colony being in this place it had not happened often that nature and the colony invaded each other. But at times of course some wild creature got confused about the borders. Naturally. Animals did not know about this kind of stuff. So it happened here and there that one found its way into the fields, or even houses. The forest did not know how it had happened but one day someone came and put things up. Things that kept the animals out of the colony. Mostly. These things had ropes and nets, metal cages, others were tubes that shot out pointy things that made the animals sleep. People words like perimeters and defence hung in the air of the forest. And the forest had seen it work many times. None of the creatures were harmed, only stopped. The forest liked that. The people knew how to avoid these things. Even the little furless two leggers. If they came deeper into the forest they knew how to step around, or not go where the things were. The one that put the things out was really good at that, that one also was good with the animals. Knew how to carry them, how to get closer or when to leave them. He used a lot of person words even though he was alone, maybe he talked with the forest. Just that the forest did not speak people words. When a new person came into the forest the forest did not recognize them. If the forest had been able to say people words, maybe it could have warned them. They were walking the wrong way right towards one of the tube things. Maybe the thing thought the person was an animal trying to get into the people place. And then the person went down onto the ground. The forest did not speak people words so it could not warn them. ((OOC: Just for clarification, Ba'el ran into a defence perimeter meant to keep wild animals in the forest because she did not know where those 'traps' are and was alone without her team so nobody could carry her back out. )) ----- The forests around Paoike Colony, Drever IV simmed by Commodore Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Co-Facilitator A238906JL0

(( Quarters Ollo )) Ollo Prime, the "original Ollo," was perched cross legged on his bed and gently rocking back and forth. Ollos 3, 4, and 9 were also seated cross legged and rocking. 3 and 4 were on the couch, and 9 was on the floor in the dining area. Incredibly, no one figured out there were a dozen Ollos. Something happened to the holodeck before he used it, and it kept pumping out copies of Ollo. Not photonic, but real, coherent matter copies. Whoever said "Hell is other people" was never stuck in a LtJG-sized quarters with 11 copies of themselves. Everything he hated about himself was not externalized and highly visible. And everything he didn't need or want to know about himself was omnipresent. He had to see what he looked like when he sat down, drank from a glass, yawned... all of it. And it was invariably awkward and uncomfortable. But they agreed: keep it secret until they could figure out the solution. And until then.. Misery. Abject misery. Worst of all? Ollo was forced to recognize how terrible his toupee looks. He wasn't fooling anyone. They'd figure a way out of this mess. Surely, they would...

((Apex Hot Springs - Arentis)) Kim sat quietly, feeling the odd juxtaposition of the warm water around her body against the cold air above her, and thought. She'd texted her parents about her promotion and awards. They'd been ecstatic for her and soon several messages had come in from subspace from friends and relatives. Cypria, the local social media and messaging service, had several messages congratulating her. Neocypriate Serving members of Starfleet were often given pages -- and sometimes shrines -- on the service. She thought of the sort of impact she might make on the ship. Her home, New Cyprus, had been a place of contradiction. Its past was dark and gritty, many of its buildings living on as husks of their former selves, surrounded by a bright and happy jungle of new constructions, the skyline promising a bright future in spite of where the world had been. Kim had contributed to that future, adding holographic elements to civic landmarks and town squares. She'd had a budding architect phase during her youth. At 16 she'd been obsessed with Theodore Frudagar's landmark textbook on holoarchitecture. The field had been mocked over the years for its transient creations and compared to laser graphiti, in which artists would tag buildings not with paint but rather temporary light displays. Such things had begun in the early 21st century in protest against political leaders on Earth. There had been something of a back-handed self congratulatory tone in that passage. Not merely a husk. While many criticized holoarchitects for doing nothing but defacing and twisting the intentions of the original architects who'd planned the spaces in which they worked, the holoarchitects who chafed under such criticism were quick to point out that buildings were just dead husks. A few called them canvases. The truth was that holoarchitecture and architecture itself were merely two sides of the same coin. Frudagar's premise rested on the idea of storytelling through both static and moving structures. New Cyprus's story was one of rebirth and transformation. Kim wondered. What was she transforming into? What parts of her were static? Which ones could she change? The water around her bubbled and frothed as the mountains beyond sat in stoic silence. -- Lt. Jg Kimberly Stapledon Engineer USS Constitution-B I238601KB0

(( This is the last sim in the exchange between the two, an emotional relatable end to this scene that needed to be shared )) ((Lieutenant JG T’Ama and Ensign Flores’s Quarters - Deck 19, USS Constitution-B)) Rachel spoke up and lifted the light aluminum cane off of the floor below her, demonstrating that she had just gotten back from sickbay. She sighed and realized that she was going to have to come clean with what exactly had happened. It was not something that she could keep a secret forever. Her injuries were affecting her too much to hide. T’Ama: Oh… okay. Flores: There was an accident on Arentis. An anti-grav hoverboard suffered a serious malfunction and propelled me into a wall head-first at full speed. T’Ama: ::alarmed:: Were you wearing a helmet? The whole thing was embarrassing, cosmic justice for her arrogance. She shook her head, fully revealing the patch of missing hair and the small osteogenic stimulator over the burr hole in her skull. Obviously, given the severity of her injury, she had not taken the right precautions. Flores: No, I wasn’t. T’Ama: Fyrshi… It took a second to recall the medical terms for what had happened, how to describe the traumatic brain injury in terms worse than a simple concussion. Flores: I suffered contusions and subdural haema-something. T’Ama: Toma. How are you doing? Flores: Honestly, not great. I’m off duty and basically useless as an engineer. I can’t recall basic technical facts and have difficulty with decision making. ::She sighed:: And I sort of killed Dunsel. Bits of shattered monitor were still on the ground below the replicator with data lines exposed, and one of Dunsel’s googly eyes was just barely hanging on after being knocked loose by her swing with the cane. T’Ama: ::gasping:: Dunsel!! ::walking closer to survey the damage:: Ohhhh, he had a face! Rachel felt a single tear fall down her cheek. Even though it felt perfectly justified at the time, she now felt very bad about it. Especially since it also inconvenienced her friend and roommate. Flores: I’m sorry. ::She wiped her eyes. Her mouth twisted into a sad, forced smile.:: But don’t worry, you don’t have to deal with that anymore. Privileges of rank! It was bitter, jealous, angry, and self-serving. She was going to find a way to rain all over T’Ama’s parade and make her promotion an issue for herself, somehow. And it of course assumed the worst. Something she’d been doing since she woke up in the state she did. Of course her roommate would leave at the very first opportunity and she’d be left to cope with everything alone. T’Ama: What do you mean by that? Rachel frowned at the change of tone. As if she hadn’t just said what she said. Flores: Merely a statement of fact regarding quarters assignment policies. T’Ama: ::firmly:: That was a guilt trip, and I don’t do those. Which it absolutely was. As much as she wanted to be mad some more and deny it, it was absolutely true. She was still angry about everything that had happened. She was disappointed with her inability to manage her condition. And she was honestly a bit scared of having to deal with it all without somebody regularly around to talk to. So maybe it was okay that she… Flores: oO Nope, don’t you dare say that Rachel. That’s not an excuse to treat a friend like crap. Oo She still wasn’t herself. Hell, she should probably still be in sickbay if she was going to break replicators and say terrible things to people. Less than one word into trying to mount some defense or excuse she gave up and admitted defeat. It had been a rude, ignorant thing to say. And it had been exactly as T’Ama called it. A guilt trip. Flores: Well- ::Beat:: Yeah, it was. You’re right. I would give a heartfelt apology but I’d already started thinking about other stuff… Apology undercut by a defensive bit of sarcasm, it seemed that her roommate had lost her patience for the Rachel Flores Mental Acrobatics Exhibition. T’Ama: Okay, I’m getting overwhelmed and I have a shift starting in 37 minutes. I’m sorry this happened to you and that you have to deal with this. I hope you fully recover. I’m going to go now. There were no more words to say. It was a bit too late to say something to actually apologize. She watched T’Ama do a quick inspection of her uniform in the mirror before heading for the door. As much as she wanted to ask her to wait, to say something to try and salvage the conversation, she had to respect T’Ama’s wishes not to talk about it further right now. T’Ama: Bye, get better! Rachel replied quietly. Flores: ::Meekly:: Bye. T’Ama left and Rachel thought about what had just happened. She’d certainly made better choices than that. Looking down at the cane she thought about hobbling back to sickbay where she couldn’t hurt the feelings of anyone besides the medical staff. Ellie had mentioned that emotional and behavioral control was something that her brain injury could impact. Although that didn’t make her feel any less awful about it. She cursed under her breath and wished she could immediately fall back asleep and not have to think about what she had done. Flores: You’re an idiot, Rachel.

((Stellar Cartography - Deck 9, USS Constitution-B)) Down in Stellar Cartography, Kiris was singing to himself. The semi-spherical room had a nice reverberation to it. So he sang while he ran another set of scans of the dense nebula the Constitution had come across. At least he had something to do to pass the time while the computer worked through all the readings. The nebula was a tough nut to crack. The sensors were giving basic info but the special characteristics of the nebula were still a mystery. The doors of Stellar Cartography slid open, admitting a tall Vulcan officer. Sylok had returned. He stopped his singing and spun his chair around to face his new partner in crime in Stellar Cartography. Seti: Welcome back, Sylok. So far, he liked the Vulcan science officer. Dependable, detail-oriented, and willing to listen to him go on and on excitedly about his favorite subject. Or one of his favorite subjects, anyway. When the Vulcan officer returned from whatever lab or office he had been helping out in and back to stellar cartography he waved, receiving a Vulcan salute in response. Sylok: Greetings, Lieutenant Seti. Is there anything new to report on the astrometric front? Seti: Well, I had been running some long-range scans while were doing our survey and found something pretty interesting. ::He called up the earlier long-distance scans.:: Right here, this comet. I’ve looked at extrapolations of its course, and it is quite unusual. It isn’t traveling fast enough to reach the escape velocity of most main sequence stars. And yet, here it is, in interstellar space. Most interstellar object comets are much more massive. It must have been at the exact right time and place for a subspace eddy or microscopic black hole to give it enough of a gravitational push to get it out of orbit of its home star. The curved walls of Stellar Cartography faded to black as the projection of the nebula they were in was replaced by the inky void of interstellar space, dotted with a scattering of stars. The projection zoomed in on a certain point and froze. A comet streaked across the ceiling and the long-range scans he had been working on were projected on the wall in front of them along with the comet’s path through space. Sylok looked all the data over and nodded approvingly. It certainly was an interesting comet. Sylok: Fascinating. Kiris took that as an agreement with him that it was a discovery worth getting excited about. Seti: Isn’t it? I managed to get a few compositional scans and we have its trajectory. With a bit of detective work maybe we could narrow down exactly where it came from. Oh, we could petition the Federation Science Council to name it! I’m thinking… Seti-Sylok One. He expected a reminder about the standardized naming conventions in catalogs of interstellar objects and how few comets truly needed a name along with their catalog number. Instead, Sylok retorted with a simple question. Sylok: Using your name first? It was stated plainly, but beneath the surface were strong undertones of Vulcan sass. Kiris shrugged and responded. Seti: It’s alphabetical. Sylok: A logical nomenclature. Sylok sat down in the other chair next to Kiris, letting silence hang in the air until Kiris struck back up the conversation. Seti: Anyway… that was about it until I came back here and l noticed we changed course towards this nebula. It has some interesting properties, but getting detailed scans of it has been difficult. So what about you? Anything interesting yet today in the world of Sylok? Sylok: The ship’s crew is unusually excited today. The distress call from the Enterprise has piqued the interest of many. Given your areas of expertise, I am somewhat surprised to find you here and not in uniform at the chief’s office begging to be part of the science team. For once, his Vulcan colleague had him at a loss for words. A distress call from the Enterprise. What was the flagship doing out in the Marchlands? And he was in uniform. Did he mean… another Enterprise? Seti: The what from the who-now? Sylok: ::Matter-of-factly.:: The distress call from the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701. Seti: By the Prophets… ::He took a moment to process before getting up from his chair.:: This I’ve got to see. Between his first and third postings, Kiris had spent seven months with the DTI providing analyses and writing up reports about temporal mechanics and the cosmological mechanics behind such incursions. But it had been two years since then and he never expected to run into a temporal anomaly himself. Especially not something so famous. He’d read all about the voyages of the Enterprise at Starfleet Academy. Sylok: Deck 12 is off-limits as a recreation of a ship’s interior of the era and people are getting uniforms from the operations department. Did you not hear or see any of that? He shook his head. He had gone from Stellar Cartography to the Subspace Systems Lab and then back only to find Sylok gone and their course changed. And he hadn’t heard anything about a distress call from the Enterprise. Seti: I was either here in Stellar Cartography or up in subspace systems lab doing some compositional scans on Seti-Sylok One. You said the uniforms are in operations? Sylok: Yes, but- ::He was stopped short as the Bajoran cosmologist bolted out of the room.:: as to be expected. Sylok didn’t need to say anymore. Kiris was off to find the nearest turbolift to go see if it was true. His Vulcan colleague wouldn’t be pulling his leg. He still found it hard to believe, though. ((Timeskip: As fast as his legs will carry him.)) ((Operations Department (Wardrobe and Requisite Division), USS Constitution-B)) He slowed down as he got closer to the operations department. He passed people in the corridors dressed up in the bright primary-color uniforms of Starfleet history. It was true. Kiris took a breath and composed himself before slipping in to the operations department. Officers and crewmen were still all over the large room, so it was easy for the short Bajoran to squeeze his way through the crowd and get to one of the racks of uniforms. Kiris flipped through the available uniforms before finding a nice blue science uniform with a broken stripe on the sleeve. It was a beautiful light blue, much better than the teal of his own gray-shouldered uniform or the dark blue of the brand new uniforms that Starfleet Operations had rolled out on deep space nine. It was bright and welcoming. He combined it with pants, boots, and a 23rd century tricorder. He got changed and caught a glimpse of himself in one of the comm panels that lined the corridors. Seti: oO I look like I walked right off the cover of a Starfleet history textbook. Oo Except for the earring. And the nose ridges. Those would need to go if he wanted to be on the away team to head over to the ship. Which would be the hardest part. He prepared himself to go speak to the chief science officer (whoever that was, the department leadership seemed him flux when he arrived) and join the likely dozen other officers also begging to be picked for the science team. But he did have one advantage: practical experience related to the mission at hand. Along with the fact that he really, really wanted to go. ______ Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Seti Kiris Cosmologist USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Laria Herren Mission Specialist USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

(( Clyia's Pleasure Spa, Risa )) The last several weeks were rough. First, he tried posing as a refugee when the Starfleet officers found him fast asleep coming down from his trip. When that didn't work, he posed as a refugee forced to join the pirates under threat of violence. Add in a few batted lashes, some sultry tones, and a wink or two, and they bought his story, at least well enough to not throw him right in the brig. It's so good to be this handsome, he reminded himself. After that, he wandered away from the refugees and sweet talked his way onto a ship. A few hops later, he found himself on Risa. And he had some latinum after all! That sweet widower on the last ship demanded to bestow Yeaban with gifts, and Yeaban was happy to oblige. And now, it was time to indulge. Risa is, of course, post-currency. But throwing around latinum didn't hurt. And he decided to splurge and have it with one big go. And here he was, wedged into a pile of more than willing Risans. Risans loved Yeaban and his looks, and Yeaban loved that about them. With the latinum, he sent out for any and all needs for the party: food, drink, towels, more drink, and ice packs. And they had continued to partake in all of them. In between an ice pack, a liter of water, and a back massage; Yeaban picked up a curious fruit from the table. It looked like a cherry, but with an extra lobe, with two spines sticking out the top. He sniffed it, and watched the Risans pop them into their mouths with glee. Yeaban shrugged and decided to give one a try. It was succulent! It was plump, and sweet, with just the right amount of tart. The texture was compelling, almost erotic. As he reclined in relaxation, he let out a loud sigh of satisfaction as he positioned the ice pack. Suddenly it felt like a singularity formed in the pit of his stomach, and his innards were going through spaghettification on the event horizon. His eyes bulged in fear, and the Risans immediately rushed toward him as the blackness overcame him, and the pain receded. A victim of his own indulgence: Risian orpino cherries are poisonous to Talaxians. He was so focused on throwing his latinum around that he insisted on the caterer sending the most luxurious foods "no matter what." —— MSNPC Yeaban Devastatingly handsome Pirate simmed by: Lt Commander Azura Ada Second Officer? Chief Science Officer? USS Constitution-B IDIC team member ASDB team member C239510LD0 (she/her, character) (she/they, writer)

(( Outside counselling offices, USS Constitution-B, alternate quantum reality )) As the doors swished closed behind him, Lazarus broke his stride and paused now standing in the corridors full of people going about their day. He watched them for a moment, his eyes full of a dull fear. It was the kind of fear that eats a man from the inside out. He felt hollow. A small child's voice cut through his mental haze, as the child asked their parent if they could go see one of their friends on deck 8. He glanced left and right, and then joined into the flow of people moving about as he headed back to his quarters. When people spoke of Azura, she sounded better than him. A better leader, a better scientist, a better friend, and a better partner. It made him feel small, like he hadn't been living up to his full potential. As he walked, he mostly avoided eye contact, or if he accidentally met the eyes of someone else passing by he offered a terse simulacra of a smile. He had crossed through to a different-same reality, only to learn that the version of himself that departed here was his better. He was living in his own shadow... or was it her shadow? He still couldn't make sense of this change. Who was he? Were he and Azura the same? And if she was the more confident, more composed, happier version of themselves, then should he become her? In some ways it felt compelling to do so, but he was held by fear each time he thought about it. What if he transitioned, only to find out he was still the lesser of the two? What if he was transitioning to try and fix something and it was the wrong choice? What if he transitioned and did it wrong? It should make sense, all of this, but it doesn't. After extensive paperwork and meetings, he was granted access to her personal logs. He wanted to understand her and her life, in hopes that it would help him make sense of things. It wasn't just that she transitioned. She was also, apparently, autistic and queer as well. He found a few mentions in her logs of Kovar. He remembered Kovar well, and the book they gave him on neurodivergence. Lazarus had never read it, but it seemed that Azura did. He didn't have extensive personal logs of her time before joining Starfleet, but the mention of reading Kovar's book stood out to him. Maybe she read the book and figured out she was autistic. Or maybe she allowed herself to feel the queer yearning that he knew he repressed about Kovar. Or maybe it was both. Could he recreate the process if he read the book? Or would his journey need to be different because he knew the ending already? He sighed and noticed the intersection he was at, and took a turn toward the arboretum and abandoned his plan to go back to his quarters. (( Arboretum )) He spotted an empty bench and sat down. Plenty of people milled about, including another senior officer. They waved at each other. Sure, he had his title and his position back, but he was a ghost of who he used to be. Too afraid to connect, too overshadowed by Azura. It was hard for everyone to lose her, and to gain such a vague shadow of her. Lazarus decided that he was probably autistic, too, but still hadn't read the book. And he knew he was queer. He was still getting used to admitting it to himself, but those things were true. And it felt good to know those things, and to find peace about them. He was able to make sense of his experiences, especially growing up, when he reconsidered himself as an undiagnosed autistic and closeted queer kid. But was he transgrender? He scratched at his beard in contemplation, and noting for the umpteenth time that his beard didn't make him uncomfortable. He sort of liked it, it covered up a lot of his face and was very masculine. But then it struck him, an idea. The holodeck! He got up and hurried himself to whatever Holodeck was open. (( Holodeck 2 )) As he stepped into the black and gold grid, he ordered up a simple program. Davis: Computer, officer's quarters from the USS Constitution, just like the ones I'm staying in. The computer chirped in affirmation and the quarters materialized around him. Davis: Computer... He felt a cold sweat immediately forming all over his body. Part of him was thrilled, but most of him was terrified about what happened next, and how it would feel. Davis: Computer, change my appearance to match that of Azura Ada's. And give me a body-length mirror. The computer again affirmed the order, but seemed to hesitate for an iota of a second before complying. Maybe he just imagined it. He felt something odd as the computer projected a hologram onto his own body. He knew it was possible, but he'd never done it before. But when he looked down, he saw hands that responded to every movement, but they were slender and... lady-like. Gone were the fingers he'd written off as "sausage fingers." And suddenly there was hair surrounding his face and weighing his head down. Over the years, he'd tried to grow his hair out more than once but never got very far. This was full, and long, and moved when he moved. A strange sensation. He looked down and saw his chest. He gasped, and quickly stepped in front of the three panel body-length mirror. As soon as he saw the reflection, a shock ran down his spine and a deep sense of dread filled him, mixed with an overwhelming joy. Lazarus tried to study the reflection in the mirror, but every time he looked at it–at her–he started getting choked up. It was her, yes, but it was also him. He was her, she was him. It was all there. He'd seen this face plenty of times but to live in it, even as a hologram, was something entirely different. He touched his face, and watched the delicate hand caress his-her cheek as tears rolled down his face. Her face. Their face? He turned and posed and studied the form from all angles. As the shock wore off, so too did the dread. The dread, he was able to identify, was born out of fear that he'd like it. And that meant lots and lots of change. And change was hard. But he didn't like it–it was more than that. He stopped posing and was suddenly very still in front of the mirror. He felt a roiling inside himself, a conflict: fear and fact, battling inside. It could have been seconds, minutes, or maybe more. But suddenly it clicked. He opened his mouth and declared to the empty holodeck... Davis: I'm a woman. And she wept tears of relief and joy and fear in front of the simulated mirror. —— Lt Commander Lazarus Davis Second Officer Chief Science Officer USS Constitution-B IDIC team member ASDB team member C239510LD0 (she/her?, character) (she/they, writer)

(( Chief Science Officer’s Office )) Out of all the days to be called to the principal's office, today was not a good one. Even though the full effects of whatever happened on Daaka had passed. Her mood was still in the trash. So, when she received her schedule and found the first thing would be visiting the Chief Science Officer for a one on one, Shedet wanted to call in sick…but that meant talking to Cade who she had called old. Rather deal with the Chief. The Orion girl made sure that the uniform fit her well but not snug, preferring to stay away from the truly snug that she liked…at least for now. Impressions were needed for a cadet. She blinked and realized that she was sitting in the office and he was actually talking to her. Davis: … I figured it’d be good to get some time together, me being the Chief Science Officer and you being an officer-in-training under my command. Plus a chance to give her a pep-talk and/or a speech about acting a little more maturely. The Orion blinked. Then blinked again. What was he talking about? Shedet: You’re the Chief Science Officer, sir. You lead and I follow as they say. He picked up “his” PADD from his desk and tapped it absent-mindedly in his palm as he did a mental check on his to-do list while talking with her. Davis: As I’m sure you know, most of science is waiting around. Turns out most of being a department head is checking in on lab spaces… to see other people waiting around. Was he explaining Science 101 to her? The Orion tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow in a distinctly Vulcan way. Shedet: Yes, I’m well aware how science works, Commander. Goddess, she was digging her hole but the attitude was still present and it was starting to take a mind of her own. She wanted to be a scientist again, didn’t she? Be in starfleet as an office? oO Then shut up and stop talking back. Oo Davis: I know, but it’s just this afternoon and then it’s done. And then the grump spoke. Shedet: The commodore wanted us all on shore leave, Commander. This appears to be more than…needed right now. He could empathize with her desire to not do any more work during shore leave, but this kind of response was exactly the problem. Davis: I *do* decide the duty rotation, you know. People still staff the ship when she’s docked. His tone was playful with a hint of warning in it. He knew he wouldn't use punitive staffing, but maybe don't talk to your department head like that? Oh, ho. He was going to be like that was it. Shedet eyed the curly haired man. Was this the game he was planning to play? Really deep down, the Orion girl was begging herself to just shut up but her mouth had a mind of it’s own right now. Shedet: Whatever you say…”Commander”. He cocked his head at her quizzically, processing and reprocessing what she said and how she said it. He studied her for a moment, trying to read her expression and body language. Was there something else going on? How silly to react that way. Davis: ::stifling a confused chuckle:: Is there… something on your mind, Shedet? Shedet: Oh, nothing. Just trying to point out standing around doesn’t get the job done. Anyone can stand around. *You* could stand around…sir. Suddenly the PADD felt heavy in his hand so he set it facedown on the desk, and sighed. Davis: Shedet, I– He looked at her steely gaze again and changed his mind. Instead, he picked the favorite PADD back up from his desk. Davis: Let’s just get started, shall we? He motioned to the door. With nothing much else to do or say (at the moment), Shedet stood and followed him out in to the main corridor. Davis: I like to work furthest from my office to the closest. So that means we start with the Implant Research Labs on Deck 38 and work our way up. ((Timeskip, about an hour, Cybernetics Lab, Deck 13)) The time in the Cybernetics lab was actually interesting but it was not something that Shedet was going to admit at the moment. She had been actually focused on one of the readouts when she heard his voice to her side. Davis: We’re about halfway done. And you’re getting a hang of this now, eh? Shedet: Obviously. Davis: Mmhm. He was trying, really trying, to get to know her better and to establish a stronger rapport. But it just wasn’t happening. Everything he said, it felt like, was taken as an affront. What had he done to offend her? Shedet: You want to take a look at that secondary reading, Commander? Seems to be saying something “important”. Maybe if he showed her that he cared… not just about the people under his command, but her specifically. Perhaps demonstrating some cultural awareness? He had picked up a few words. Davis: Oh? Let me see, morl-etu. Honestly, Shedet should have been impressed with the fact that Commander Davis had gone out of his way to use an Orion word. That was something not very common since universal translators were ubiquitous. She should have just smiled at him, appreciated the effort and continued on. What she should not have done was hyper fixate on the fact that he missed the slight hesitation between the noun morl for comrade and attached the suffix -etu which was only used to refer for a beta. What she should have done without hyperfixation is actually let him know what the word usage was and give him a little Orion history on the pheromone difference between an alpha and beta Orion. How their species were always matriarchal and their genetics evolved in a way that alphas became planners and leaders while betas became doers and solvers. Shedet should have taken the time to explain how alphas and betas needed each other that an Alpha would feel incomplete without a beta and vice versa but also been wise to explain the past where Orions used to really get hung up on alphas were better than betas and how they had fought that prejudice and how she should not have reacted so poorly to a function of their language. She should have done a lot but she didn’t do it. Her blue eyes became ice as she tried to kill him with her piercing gaze. All she could think was: oO Did he just call me a beta? Oo Shedet was an alpha. It should have been obvious to him as the essence of her pheromone scent, even suppressed by her medicine, told Orions what she was. How dare he consider her a beta. Was he trying to insult her? She fought hard to prove she was an alpha all her life and this was how she was being treated? (( OOC: Shedet is referring to a social structure that has been dissolved but still permeates their culture down to their language. Normally she wouldn’t have reacted this way but being off her meds doesn't help. It is no excuse for her actions and she has no grounds to act this way. The following responses and reactions being done has been planned out in advance by the writers of Shedet and Lazarus. A reminder of the old adage in simming that might be new to our newbies but “IC actions have IC consequences'')) Shedet turned away from him to try and melt her screen with the anger that she was feeling. She didn’t even bother to respond to him. Lazarus stood there, slowly realizing that his attempt to show her he was genuinely trying to connect was ineffective at best. Likely worse–he knew she heard him, but when he looked up at her she was facing away. Damn. ((Timeskip, about 45 minutes later, Sensor System Lab 2, Deck 9 )) The doors peeled open to yet again reveal a lab space with a few people moving about to check on this or that. Davis: Ah, this one will take a moment longer. You see that? ::He pointed to a device in near the back left corner of the space:: The device was roughly cylindrical, about 2 meters tall, with sidecar recorders and processing units. Typical redundancies for experiments that might not be readily repeatable. No doubt it was finely calibrated, so careful data collection ensured they would get results each time while awaiting a recalibration. Shedet: It’s a doo-dad. At this point, he was unfazed by her attitude and was determined to press on. Davis: It’s an exotic dark matter detector. It works by measuring Higgs fields or some such. I couldn’t tell you much more because I'm not that kind of scientist. Shedet: uh huh. The Orion’s mind was still on the completely innocent remark of a man who was trying to relate to her and was fuming deep inside from the comment. She noticed they went over to a wrap around set of panels large enough to fit six people in if they were all working on at once. Shedet stepped up to tap on the panel knowing he was planning to show her. She brought up the data and as soon as Commander Davis walked over, she transferred the panel to the other side. Shedet: Oops. Slippy fingers me. I locked it out on that side. Can you release it, Commander? He raised an eyebrow, but decided to not be suspicious. Mistakes happen. Davis: Of course. As he approached the other side and reached out, she transferred it back to herself. As he was coming over, she waited until he was three-quarters of the way back when she transferred it again. Shedet: Oops. Lazarus sighed. The determination he felt moments ago dissolved into defeat. Why couldn’t he get along with her? Why was she so difficult? She did it once more before finally locking it in place. Shedet: Sorry about that, Commander. I guess that’s what you’d expect for a morletu. Davis: Your displeasure has been registered, Shedet. Can we please just finish this? He didn’t want to think about it any more, at least right now. Disciplinary action? That seemed a bit extreme for a bad attitude. He’d have to talk to Jalana… “Oh gee, Jalana! I’m having trouble with a member of my staff,” he’d say. “I see, dear Laz. What’s the issue?” “Well ma’am, it’s a cadet.” “A cadet? You can’t handle a cadet?” “No ma’am.” He sighed again, just imagining that interaction. How humiliating. Shedet: Sure. Whatever. She turned to reorient the axis of her screen just to get this done but that didn’t appear to be what was going to happen. Davis: That’s *enough, cadet.* Well, she knew that tone and internally kicked herself. Again, she had gotten on someone’s bad side and she was the jerk. She knew it deep down but this was already a hole she had dug so might as well bury herself. He felt the eyes of the other scientists in the lab train on him after he raised his voice, and his ears flushed red. Davis: Ahem, excuse me. ::Lowering his voice back down to usual levels. The intensity of his voice only increased, though.:: Shedet, you are dismissed. Enjoy your shore leave. He pointed to the door. Shedet: Dismissed? You said– Davis: *Now.* With a huff, she spun on him, threw her blond hair over one shoulder in a gesture of dismissive disinterest and strode out wishing she could just slam a door. As she left, and the doors closed behind her, he set down his PADD on a nearby station and rubbed his temples, while gently shaking his head. Well, that got out of control. (( Two days later, Office of the Chief Science Officer )) Two days to cool off, reflect, and collect themselves. He ordered her to his office, with the intention of having her explain herself. He sat behind his desk, looking at her, and lazily tapping a stylus against the edge of a nearly empty mug of cold tea. When Shedet had received the summons to the CSO’s office, she assumed she was either in deep hekvet or there was more work to be done. She had already had a chance to stop by Doctor Foster’s office to discuss her medicine and even though she had her dosage, it was not really helping her mood. As she approached his office, the Orion promised herself to behave and apologize and that was exactly what she was going to do until she walked into the office and saw him sitting there. That plan went out the proverbial window. It would have been obvious to him when she crossed her arms across her chest and canted her hip to the side in a pose of irritation. Her nose wrinkling at the feeling of irritation. Shedet: Bad day, huh? Davis: And that’s all you have to say about it? *A bad day?* Shedet: What else is there to say? The accent returned, the longer vowels, the more fluid way she connected words. A trait that only those close to her knew was her being stressed and trying to rely on old habits. She waved her hand dismissively as if she didn’t care though her gut was already dropping down towards the floor. Davis: Shedet, I want you to know something. Your personnel records– Shedet: ::glaring:: What? Couldn’t figure things out on your own so you decided to dig into my records? Wanna figure out how a twenty-seven year old is still a cadet? Is that it? Though her voice was measured, the venom was obvious. She had come to the point of letting the language slip go but rooting around in her old record, the past she wanted to never hear about again, just rankled her. Davis: No, I was going to tell you I *haven’t* looked at them. And I don’t intend to. I’m not interested in your past so much as I am interested in the present. And presently, you’re being a tremendously difficult person to work with. Why? Shedet shifted hips and continued to speak as if she had calmed down though inside was still raging. Another thought had come to mind. Shedet: Cause I’m Orion. I’m a pain in the galaxy’s ass. That’s what everyone expects, right? Before he could speak, her eyes glanced at his cup, then towards the replicator and schooled her impression while she continued to talk. Shedet: Refill of your tea? Davis: Uh, yes… Thank you. Before he could do or say anything, she scooped up his cup and strode over to the replicator. She continued to talk so that he was focusing on her words and not her fingers. Shedet: I don’t conform easily, Commander. It’s been the bane of my existence. I was born to be wild, to live free of rules which then I got to actually put into practice. Having finished changing the recipe temporarily to include triple sugar instead of his usual amount: none. She turned with the replicated cup with a smile and walked over. Shedet: I can’t be caged. Hopefully the speech worked. As she watched him sip the tea and realize what he did after a mouth full. The cloying, viscous liquid slide over his tongue and down his throat. His perfectly fine–superb, in fact–tea was now a confection. He was no stranger to sweet tea drinks, but the wild gushu raw pu erh in his mug did not call for that treatment. He was surprised by it, but soon registered what had happened. He shot a glance at her as he set the mug down on his desk unceremoniously. Shedet: ::Grinning:: Oops. Davis: Ok, fine. ::He said with frustrated resignation. Perhaps candor is in order.:: What are you trying to accomplish here? Do you *want* me to call you a pain in the ass? Your own little self-fulfilling prophecy? He heard the frustration in his own voice, and it saddened him. He took it a bit too far. As much as one side of her wanted to free him from the mess he was in, Shedet was still in a very bratty mood. Shedet: I mean, you wouldn’t be wrong. Davis: Look. I understand that it’s possible you’re upset at me for something I did, but I have to tell you I have absolutely no clue what’s going on or why. Now he was almost pleading with her. If she didn’t want to help him understand, then that’s on her. But he had to try. Damn it, if he’d only gotten to know her better… She did so well on Endassi, but then he didn’t really invest in their relationship. And now this was happening and he had nothing to pull from. It might be the wrong choice, but he needed to do something bold and decisive. And that was to pull her closer instead of giving her distance. He needed to show her she was trying. Leaving it unaddressed was clearly only making her more upset. Shedet: Mhmm. I’ve gathered. He raised his hand, gesturing her to pause for a moment. Davis: I have an order, and a request. Shedet: Yes, “Commander”? Davis: At 2000 hours today, report to Sensor System Lab 2, Deck 9. That Higgs dark matter detector test is being run and we’re going to observe. That’s the order part. The Orion sighed and blinked her eyes at him. For a moment, she thought to make things a bit more complicated but relented. She was being a pain in the ass to begin with and she knew it. Shedet: Fine. What’s the request? Davis The request is that when we meet there, we try to give each other a second chance. We don’t have to pretend to be best friends, just… can we be cordial while we work with the belief that we’re both interested in solving this *thing* between us? Shedet: ::sighing:: I’ll try. ((2000 hours, Sensor System Lab 2, Deck 9)) The experiment was set to run at 2030, so by the time he had arrived the final checks were underway. The reports from the lab leader said they had been hard at work for the past 6 hours or so, calibrating this and that, checking and re-checking the equipment. It was all a much bigger to-do than the typical experiments run on the Conny, but not without precedent. As to why the Conny, there was some kind of benefit of running the experiment on a ship with a QSD. Something about the QSD created a local effect on quantum foam to make it easier to account for. Quantum mechanics were sometimes even more confusing than temporal mechanics, but he trusted the experts. He had entered the lab, said his hellos, but then stayed on the perimeter with “his” PADD in hand. He was absent-mindedly running his fingers across the slightly bent seam along the back from some impact or another. He had the report he needed to fill out for the experiment pulled up and ready to go. The door peeled open, revealing a certain cadet. He mustered a smile and a kind tone. Having changed into a new uniform and at least tried to be presentable, Shedet had spent the hours between working on her mood. Yeah, she was still a bit grumpy, her emotions were jumping all over the place but this time, she was going to actively not try to plaster Lazurus across the science lab walls verbally. He gave her a smile and surprisingly, she was able to muster up one in return. Davis: Welcome. They’re just finishing setting up. Shedet glanced over to the strange device that she had seen (and ignored earlier) and folded her arms. Breathing in and out a few times, she turned back to him. Shedet: Okay. What is it? He leaned over to talk to her in a somewhat hushed tone, trying to not distract the busy technicians and scientists putting it through its final paces. Davis: It’s an exotic dark matter detector, somehow using or relying on Higgs fields? I’m sure you know more details than me. I’m a research psychologist. Shedet: ::slightly snippy:: My science degree was in archeology. I…::breathing:: only have the basics of most of the other professions. Davis: Well then, we have plenty in common. ::He pretended to not notice her tone.:: Science officers out of their depth. The Orion looked at the strange contraption that they were supposed to monitor and shook her head slightly. Shedet: Shouldn’t we get like…professionals? A technician approached the two of them. Cadet Shedet relaxed slightly. There were the professionals. Technician: We’re about to start the power-up sequence. It should take about 15 minutes, then we’ll run our final checks. Davis: Sounds good, thank you for the update. ::He logged the information and time in his log.:: The tech gave a thin, polite, professional smile and returned to work. Davis: ::to Shedet:: The funny thing is, as I understand it, the experiment itself lasts less than 15 minutes. All of this work for just 15 minutes of data collection. Remarkable, eh? Shedet: Maybe? Sounds like a waste of time to me….::quickly:: but I’m no scientist yet. Which was true. She had only grabbed the archeology degree because she knew a lot about it and would have helped her get through the Academy faster. She hadn’t actually planned to use it but here she was. Davis: I’m just glad we’re not antagonizing each other. Thank you for taking me up on my request. Shedet: You’re welcome. ::smiling:: but the night isn’t over. One of the techs suddenly called someone over to check something. They seemed worried, and were working quickly. Lazarus stayed silent but trained his attention on them, ready to react as needed. There was a whole hell of a lot of power running to that apparatus. It didn’t take a genius to sense that the room had shifted and the green woman shifted also to watch. Shedet: Is…something up? Technician 1: Whoa-whoa-whoa, hang on! Technician 2: We’re in the yellow over here with the Higgs chamber! Suddenly the console in front of the first technician burst into a cascade of sparks. The technician shielded their eyes and backed away, seemingly unharmed, but the sparks continued. This was quickly devolving into panic. Davis: Stay here, cadet. He handed her his PADD and crossed the room to the apparatus. Shedet didn’t respond. The soft hairs on the back of her neck had begun to tingle and her brain was screaming a warning that she had yet to figure out. Davis: What’s going on? Technician 2: I don’t know, everything was fine and then suddenly it’s going off the rails. The Higgs chamber is overloading, but that ::they pointed to the sparking panel:: was where the cutoff was. There was a loud pop, and plumes of vapor erupted from the sides of the main apparatus. Technician 3: That’s the coolant! We need to cut all power. Davis: How? The technician pointed to the sparking panel. Davis: Backups? Technician 3: There’s a manual cutoff inside a panel on the main apparatus. He looked at the main apparatus, but it was obscured with coolant and sparks. Davis: Get everyone clear. He marched right into the cloud, and began feeling for the release latch on the panel. The apparatus began to hum and throb with almost unthinkable quantities of power flowing through it. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were standing on end. Release latch, where was it? He had to go by feel alone, and the cacophony of the various systems failures was reaching a fever pitch. He turned around to make sure everyone was clear, but all he saw was the cloud and the sparks - and now arcs of plasma - from the console. He found a seam! Now he just had to run his fingers along it until–yes! The latch! He popped it open and before he could pull the lever, the apparatus let out a thunderous clap, and the sparks ended. He pulled the shutoff for good measure, and the machine went dormant. Everything went from simply being a routine experiment with a side of harassing the Chief Science Officer to her gut telling her that something had majorly gone wrong. She only stood in place for a few moments before charging forward to one of the secondary panels, piping the live feed information to her computer and began to read it. Switching it to wave form, she understood it a bit better and though her knowledge of the science was low, the spiking waves were obviously the problem. Shedet: Hey! There’s a major shift in the build up of your bosons. Aren’t they supposed to be stable in the field? Technician #3: Yeah! I don’t know why it’s going crazy but it’s going to start a cascade and blow out three decks if we can’t get the power under control. Shedet’s mind quickly spun through everything she remembered about quantum mechanics. Luckily for her, she had a remedial class on it and an instructor who was a nightmare. Shedet: Look! There! The screen had shifted slightly and she brought up the second layer. Shedet: Did you take into consideration gravimetric pressures? Technician #3: Yes! We plotted the gravity pressure around the Constitution. Shedet: How about the station? The man froze for a minute, his own brain working. Technician #3: No, no. That shouldn’t have any effect. This is a small field and we’re only setting up the experiment to flash the higgs boson to get more data on it. Shedet: It’s Quantum Physics! You’re affecting the dark matter around us. We need to close it off or :: pointing to Davis who was talking to the other scientists and looking at the experiment:: they are all going to get fried. She ignored his protest as she immediately opened up their algorithm that was running and began to load programs on top of it, literally changing the experiment as it was running. Technician #3: What are you doing? Shedet: Those particles need to go somewhere. I’m applying the Schrödinger–Pauli equation to them and then going to slam them through a controlled wave function collapse. Technician #3: All you are going to do is force the matter to materialize as… The man’s eyes widened and Shedet nodded. Shedet: Yes! The Pauli equation will allow it to become anti-matter. We have chambers here to capture the small amount that we store. When the power is killed, we shunt it all to the container and all we do is generate a few ounces of fuel and cause the quantum layer to burp. Simple. It was not simple. Technician #3: This hasn’t been. Shedet: We either do it or punch a hole in the Connie’s power grid and possibly fry everyone in this department. Standby on transporters. As soon as you see it materialize, you beam that slekta to the containers. GO! Her fingers flew as fast as she could with her brain watching the system harmonize and the alert that someone was entering the zone and heading for the power. oO Here goes nothing. Oo As the power was pulled, Shedet activated the collapse and within the milliseconds of the antimatter forming, it was safely transported into a storage container. Shedet wiped the sweat from her head and gasped out the breath she was holding. Technician #3: Well, we’re not dead. Shedet: Hijacking an Intrepid Class starship was easier. Technician #3: Wha… Shedet: ::quickly:: Nothing. Through the thick cloud of coolant, a figure emerged. Ada: I’m alright. Is everyone else–why are you all looking at me like that? The voice was different but the speech, the cadence, the personality was the same. As the emergency systems pulled the cloud of coolant away, Shedet’s eyes grew wider. Shedet: Oooooooo. Helfa. Ada: What? ::She looked down at her torso to make sure she didn’t have a conduit sticking through her or something.:: I think I’m fine. I think everyone’s ok, right? I got to the cutoff. Shedet: I…didn’t calculate the quantum…burp. Ada: Shedet! Really?! YOU did this?? You could have killed us all. That was far enough. First the little gimmicks, the tea, the “faulty” panels… those were all things she could take in stride, but sabotaging a delicate experiment for laughs was too much. Definitely time to go to Jalana. The technicians were murmuring at the perimeter of the room, looking very uncomfortable. Ada: And why is everyone being so *weird* right now?? Shedet: Commander Davis. Um...You just walked into an unstable higgs boson field...that I just used a Pauli equation to stabilize and a controlled wave form collapse to clean it out. Ada: I–I–wait, no one calls me that, Ensign. ::Her tone was more baffled than anything else. Shedet never knew her by that name.:: Hold on, hold on. You did what? Shedet: and what happens if...another experiment was happening at the same time and we both shoved two bubbles of quantum reality together? Azura looked around the room. It was exactly as she remembered, minus everyone staring at her like she had two heads…. Or like they’d never seen her before. She felt the blood drain from her face as the realization settled in. The environmental controls cycled the plumes of coolant out of the room, but it was eerily quiet. Azura Ada, standing in a room of familiar strangers. Ada: Oh shit. Shedet: (sheepish wave) Welcome to the other side of the bubble? Also ::pointing to collar:: It’s Cadet. Ada: I… think we should go talk to Jalana. Shedet: I think…you should stand there until security gets here and they can escort us to Jalana. I done one goof up. Let’s not make it two. Ada: That is… ::she ran the calculus in her mind:: reasonable, yes. Just no restraints, please? Shedet: Sure. Let’s go with that. Shedet reached for her commbadge. She didn’t know if there was an “accidentally crossed the borders of reality” protocol so she was going to make it up as she went. THIS was going to be a difficult report for Shedet’s academy record. —— Lt Commander Azura Ada Second Officer Chief Science Officer USS Constitution-B C239510LD0 (she/her, character) (she/they, writer) & Cadet 2nd Class Shedet Science Officer USS Constitution-B NCC 9012-B V238008N10 he/him & she/her (player & Character)

(( Bajor - Park )) Lera was going to be in trouble. Much trouble. She had sneaked out. Not that Evria was the kind of parent to excessively tie down her child, but it was the middle of the night. Ferengi are, of course, somewhat more nocturnal than other humanoids...to her, it was not that dark and she could hear every sound in the supposedly-closed park. She lay on the grass, looking uptwards. Off to one side was the baleful glow of the Celestial Temple. She ignored it, not because she was mad but because it wasn't what she wanted to look at right now. The slightly faster moving star that arced through the sky was Deep Space Nine, the brightest piece of orbital hardware in the system. She ignored that too. She was looking at the stars, in all of their panoply, spread above her. The Bajorans had the Prophets. She had the Rules of Acquisition, but she wasn't sure she wanted them. She was, of course, particularly unfond of "Females and finances don't mix," which was patently untrue. She was pretty sure "Every man has his price" was untrue too. Oh, and then there was the one about clothes. She was a woman and she was going to wear clothes and perhaps it was time to rewrite a few of those rules. Some of them weren't so bad. "Always leave yourself an out" felt pretty good. So did "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." But the one that she was thinking of right now was one of the more poetic ones. "Home is where the heart is, but the stars are made of latinum." Maybe she didn't want latinum, but this was supposed to be home and she loved Evria and appreciated everything she had done for her. But one day she was going to the stars, not for latinum but because they called to her. She would never be Bajoran, it was only a refuge for her, for a time. She was going to the stars. One day. Atan Lera Child Bajor S238312D10

((Message handling subroutine, LCARS, USS Constitution-B)) LOG: 239808.12, 11768 messages processed, 134 identified as spam or fraudulent, 245 with incorrect addresses (rerouted), 12 undeliverable; 11 sender notified. ERROR: Cannot deliver message "Quantum Tunnelling Event Danger." Recipient record corrupted. Recipient rank: Lieutenant Commander. Recipient name: corrupted. ERROR: Cannot notify sender of message failure. Cannot record match sender; "Dr. Hfie" at High Energy Particle Systems (Starfleet laboratory, Earth). Note: possible partial match; Eyra Hfie, PhD (particle physics); DECEASED, 239304.11. Evaluation: unlikely, no indication of time-delay delivery. Disregard. ERROR: Cannot deliver message. Retracing message route. ERROR: Message origination route trace failed: mismatch of identification serial number on subspace relay Alpha-54-Bravo-112. ERROR: Message header corrupted. ERROR: Message signature corrupted. SEARCHING: message content. ERROR: message corruption, estimated 89%. ANALYSIS: Attempt message reconstruction. PROCESSING. RESULT: Message partially reconstructed. Reconstruction confidence: low. MESSAGE: [...] do not [...] error in Higgs [...] calculation[/calculator] [...] ANY CIRCUMSTANCE [...] consequences. [...] import[/importance] [...] fix this and try [...] until then [...] before. I owe you [...] MESSAGE END. ANALYSIS: possible phishing attempt–threat of danger, identity theft of expert, corrupted message, mismatch of metadata. CONCLUSION: Delete message, send metadata to Starfleet for operational security. Noted in ship communications log. MESSAGE DELETED. —— LCARS Message Handling subroutine as simmed by Lt Commander Lazarus Davis Chief Science Officer USS Constitution-B IDIC team member ASDB team member C239510LD0 (he/him, character) (they/them, writer)

(( Cetacean Labs, USS Constitution-B )) If anyone who didn’t frequent Cetacean Ops happened by, they would think the ship was at red alert or something was wrong given the gray blur that darted up and down the length of the tanks. A blur of dolphin energy that barrelled past fish, coral, kelp, and other dolphins alike and one traumatized eel that had spent two solid minutes in a vortex of dolphin excitement as Sarek zoomed around the tanks. Eventually the gray streak settled in one area upon spotting a familiar face and he bumped his nose up against the transparent aluminum and wiggled his left fin at a confused and amused looking Tann. Ilix: Well someone’s excited. ::He smirked:: Sarek: Sarek excited! Sarek got to speak to Zindee and is invited to visit planet! Sarek gets to swim in another ocean!! Being Ambassandoor is the bestest! The Tandaran’s brow raised slightly and his smirk only widened at the exclamation from his aquatic friend. Ilix: Ambassandoor? The dolphin nodded his head rapidly and swam in a loop before settling to stare at his best friend with his right eye. Sarek: Yes! Pod mother knows Sarek and is letting Sarek go to mating ritual! He couldn’t help but chuckle. Ilix: Wedding. Mating rituals are something different for most people and rarely involve spectators. ::He said dryly:: I’m glad you’re happy, Sarek. And that you get to go on an away mission. The dolphin was swimming in slow circles and bobbing up and down until he heard his friend say that last bit. He pressed his snout up against the tank and stared at Tann. Sarek: Wait…only crew go on away missions. Is Sarek part of crew? Tann couldn’t help but give the dolphin a confused look. Ilix: I suppose so. If you’re an Ambassandoor now that would make you part of the crew. Sarek just stared at his best friend for a moment then the speakers were filled with a cacophonous wailing of excitement. He swam up to the surface, for air and breached quite high, startling a researcher before diving back down to his friend. Sarek: …of crew! Today is second bestest day of Sarek’s life!! ::He squealed:: Ok, he just had to know. Ilix: Second? What’s the first? The dolphin looped around and looked at him with his left eye this time. Sarek: Meeting pod mother is bestest day and always will be!! ::He pressed up against the tank:: Because pod mother already knew Sarek! Chirps, pops and other excitable dolphin noises flooded the other side of the tank causing Tann to chuckle. Ilix: I’m glad you’re so happy, Sarek. Sarek swam up and wiggled his tail at Tann a moment. Around the tail, snuggly wrapped was a small band that was fitted to his tail in such a way that even his swift swimming couldn’t dislodge it. Sarek: Sarek finally got a shiny!! It’s only for Sarek to go to planet, because Sarek was told this helps crew keep track of Sarek. ::He looked at Tann:: It is only tempourairy! But Sarek don’t mind, cause Sarek is finally special like crew and has a shiny! He swam slowly in circles bouncing and bobbing around as he gleefully showed off the transporter armband that had been modified to fit on him and for underwater use. Ilix: I’m proud of you, Sarek. I have to report for my shift, but I’ll drop some tuna up above before I go. Sarek squealed and nodded to his friend. Sarek: By bestest friend Tann! Sarek will tell you all about wed-ding! ::He waved a fin at his friend:: ((Timeskip- A few minutes)) Several minutes passed before another one of the crew sought him out. One of the Cetacean Ops friends approached the glass. T’Ral: Greetings, Sarek. ::He gave the dolphin the customary Vulcan greeting:: Are you prepared to beam to the surface? The dolphin swam up to the Vulcan and nodded playfully. Sarek: Yes!!!! Sarek is ready to be Ambassandoor!!! A brow was raised as one would expect. T’Ral: Fascinating. ::He nodded:: Very well, we are beaming you down along with our Xindi guests. So you are aware, we are unable to beam you directly into the water as of yet, so we will be required to beam you in the air above the surface. ::He looked at the dolphin:: Or you can wait until we have deployed the buoys to facilitate a more accurate beaming. Sarek: Sarek not want to wait! Can you beam Sarek way in the sky!!! Sarek hasn’t been in the sky before! The Vulcan shook his head slightly. T’Ral: We are going to beam you as close to the water as possible. We cannot send you down to high above, without potentially injuring you. Sarek: Sarek want to be beamed as high as possible!!!! Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….. As he exclaimed his pleading he swam back and forth in circles. Sarek: ……eeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee There was an audible murmur from the Vulcan as he raised a hand. T’Ral: I shall inform them to beam you as far as is safely possible from the water’s surface. Will that suffice? Sarek: …..eaassseeee….Oh, yes, Sarek is okay with that!!! Thank you, TeeRal! TeeRal Bestest Vulcan!!! T’Ral: As always, your praise is appreciated if unwarranted. I am merely doing my job. ::He tapped the shiny on his chest:: =/\= Cetacean Ops to Transporter room two. We are ready here. As per request, please transport Sarek as high as is safely possible above the surface of the target area. =/\= Sarek scooted up against the tank staring at his bestest friend and waited impatiently. He had been told before that for them to beem him down to the surface he would have to remain still. Transporter Chief: =/\= Understood. Standby, I’m locking onto the transporter band now. Setting transport coordinates to several meters above the target site. =/\= ::There was a too long pause:: =/\= Energizing. =/\= Sarek bobbed a little in place and then he felt this strange, funny tingling sensation along his whole body. The water lit up with a blue shimmering light. It was like what he’d seen when the guests had come aboard. He was doing it! He was boldly going where no dolphin had gone before!!! ((Several meters above the ocean surface, Daaka)) The weirdest sensation he’d ever felt concluded with that blue shimmer fading away and the first thing he noted as the last bits of that light disappeared was the lack of buoyancy. Sarek saw sky, all around him and water everywhere as far as he could see below him! Sarek: Sarek is in the sky!!! Sarek had been told that the shiny they gave him would also let him still communicate with his shipmates attending the wed-ding. Gravity of course was instant the moment the transport cycle completed and the dolphin dropped out of the sky many meters above the water. As graceful as he was in the water, out of it in the sky all he could do was flail around while he flew. Sarek: Sarek can fllllyyyyyyy!!!!!! ::He exclaimed with his mouth open wide and fins and tail flapping wildly yet majestically:: The pops and clicks that rambled from him were but a drone in the air as he fell straight towards the water and hit the surface in the most exquisite of splashes. Bubbles rushed up from the impact and his exuberance before he darted back up to the surface and breached as high as he could. The happiest dolphin in the universe at that moment! Sarek splashed back into the water, which felt strange. It was hard for Sarek to describe how it felt. Thicker and almost itchy. It felt like how the water did sometimes whenever the eels in the tank got all upset. Efluvian/Nimo/Fyen: response (optional) ================================================================ Sarek The smartest Dolphin/Ambassandoor As simmed by Lieutenant JG Lystra Tactical Officer USS Constitution-B NCC-9012-B SB118 Podcast Team Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Lystra

(( Crew Lounge - USS Constitution-B )) Like an imperious statue, Senior Commander Nugra stood in front of the large bay window of the Crew Lounge staring out into space, arms folded behind his back, unmoving as if he was a Gorn made of stone. His only good eye stared out at the stars. Shedet had only stopped by the Crew Lounge to look for Ohnari (who was probably hiding) when she saw him. The Orion girl had a history with this damnable lizard. It all came home when she had been given her cadet pin and the fact that she was back on track to become an officer. It all started with him. Noting that Talia was not here, Shedet made to quietly leave but did not get a step out of the room. Nugra: Do you have a moment, Cadet? oO kelfa. Oo He must have saw her in the reflection of the glass or smelled her. Gorns had a strong sense of smell. With the Orion swear world ringing in her mind, she turned back towards him. He still was still, not having taken away his gaze. Of course, she could have told him no and walked away. Just like she did when he asked her to carry his vss'Kot dagger. But the girl knew she could not keep running away from him. Shedet had to face him. Shedet: ::neutral:: Of course, Senior Commander. Walking slowly but pointedly to his side she turned to face him and crossed her arms, blue eyes searching the scarred face. The patch with the stylized spider was facing her so she couldn't see the predatory glint of his eye. It took a moment for him to speak. Nugra: I wanted to congratulate you on earning your position at Starfleet Academy. That is no easy feat. Shedet: ::coolly:: Thank you. Do you have a problem with that? The Gorn paused which Shedet felt was way too long. Nugra: No, I do not. My opinion does not actually matter but if it means anything to you, I was wrong in how harsh I was with you back then. I should have tempered my response in punishing you, then you may have never given up your pips. Was...was the lizard apologizing? Any sort of decorum left Shedet's mind. Shedet: Are you apologizing to me? Cause if you are, it's a poor job of it. For the first time, he moved turning to face her and Shedet jumped in surprise. Now that turquoise eye was focused on her. Nugra: Yes. I apologize. There are many things I wish I could undo. You, my unreliability with Kaji, not being there for my daughter--- Had the Gorn's voice shook at the mention of Iria? Shedet knew the girl, had seen her fight back in her Victory days. She remembered that it took a team of security to take her down when a poison caused her to loose control. Shedet: Is Iria alright? Nugra: ::sigh:: She is alright. Returned to the Dryarian a few days ago. I learned something that has made me re-think a lot of things. The cadet kept her mouth shut. She was going to avoid prying because they did not have that type of relationship. Is anything, it was antagonistic. But he continued. Nugra: Do you remember Janel Tarna? Shedet: Cute trill who kept screwing up everything he touched? Yeah. Heard he went to Unity Station. Nugra: ::nods:: yes. Where he was murdered by Iria. Well, that was NOT what Shedet was expecting. She opened her mouth a few times to say something but nothing would come out. All that was there was utter shock. Her mind raced but nowhere in particular. Shedet: I'm sorry. Nugra: Thank you but it is something I have to deal with. I was not there for Tarna. I even blocked his request to return to the Symbiosis commission due to the possible encounters with...the Extinction-one protocol. Memories flitted across her mind which Shedet did not even give a chance to re-surface. She knew what that was and that needed to stay buried. Shedet: Well, there was a good reason. Nugra: But I wonder if I took the time, I could have somehow made it work. The issue was not either, I did not take the opportunity to even try. And like that, I gave up. I quit. I resigned. The ex-pirate had not been there for when the USS Victory had been decommissioned but she had heard that Captain Nugra had stepped down from command and had vanished within the bureaucracy of Starfleet. A rising star among ship Captains and then gone without a trace. Shedet did feel for him. Having been left behind as his peers had surpassed him. Many retiring with honors, others reaching flag officer positions. This lonely, sad Gorn had been left behind. Shedet: ::softly:: I'm sorry. Nugra: No need. Shedet: I know what it feels like to watch everything you strive for vanish. The feeling of being left behind. I know your past, Nugra. :: Goddess, she didn't use his rank. she knew how much he hated that.::. You were the darling of the Gorn Princess, you fought in the Civil War, lead your people as a Grand Admiral. You served Starfleet as an officer facing threat and threat, you got your own ship and now. You're here with only your memories. The Gorn did not say anything but he gave a small nod in agreement. Nugra: I charted this course so I'll live with the destination. Shedet rolled her eyes. Shedet: Don't let Jalana hear you say that. She'll kick your ass. That did get a chuckle from the giant lizard. Shedet: My people have a saying. "If you don't like where the ship is going; take the bridge and chart your own course." You're here now. Where are you going next? Before anything else could happen, her PADD chimed letting her know that she had a few more things to do before her shift started. Shedet: That's all the wisdom for today. I've got to hunt down a hot Hallian and and see if we can setup any lunch plans. I gotta make friends where ever I can. Nugra: Jalana? Shedet: You betcha. I'll see you around Godzilla. Using the nickname given to him by the 5 year old Benji so many years ago, Shedet skipped out somehow feeling a little bit better than when she arrived. PNPC Senior Commander Nugra Intelligence Officer USS Constitution-B & Cadet 2nd Class Shedet Science Officer USS Constitution-B NCC 9012-B V238008N10

((G’Renn Family’s Quarters - Deck 12, USS Constitution-B)) Anath looked in the mirror and straightened her combadge. In a few minutes she’d have to make sure her nephew had gotten up the first two times she had checked on him and get him ready for school. With Savok needed in the lab early for a project it was up to her to take Rol’Q for his first day of school. Then she’d have to go to her own duty shift in sickbay. After checking her reflection one last time she put on her teal lab coat and turned to the door. When she stepped out of the bathroom, their golden retriever Ug’yel was already at her feet. He whimpered and tried herding her across the room and to the replicator. It was time for breakfast for the dog. Savok had already replicated breakfast before leaving early for his work in the arboretum based on the food ready on the table and the note in flowing Vulcan script sitting on the counter. But first, the dog needed to be fed. Anath stood at the replicator and looked down to Ug’yel, excitedly pacing in front of her. G’Renn: Ug’yel, ba’. Ug’yel sat as directed, waiting patiently to be given breakfast. Anath turned to the replicator and gave it an order to replicate Ug’yel’s favorite blend of dog food while he watched eagerly. G’Renn: Computer, replicate Canine Supplement 47. A small glass bowl materialized in the replicator alcove. She picked the bowl of food up and set it down on the ground in front of the dog. While he ate, Anath crossed the main living area and approached Rol’Q’s room. She briefly knocked before pressing the door activator. When the doors parted, she was glad to see that he was already awake and dressed all on his own. G’Renn: Ready for school, puqoy? ((Translation: Klingon term of endearment for one’s child.)) Rol’Q was sitting on the edge of the bed, letting his feet swing back and forth and tap against the frame of the bed. It wasn’t the usual, animated sense of joy she expected from him. Something was wrong, and she had a sneaking suspicion as to what it was. Rol’Q: Do I have to go? Anath sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. G’Renn: Yes, you still do have to go. I know that preschool on Vulcan wasn’t fun. And that you liked your school in San Francisco. But this is home now. We’re all together again. So this is where you’ll go to school now. Starfleet life was difficult for anyone to adjust to. Especially for children who were already used to a different lifestyle. Within the space of a little under two years he had lost his parents, come out to the Par’tha Expanse to stay with his aunt and uncle, then move to Earth, then move back to a different ship in another region of space. For a Starfleet officer used to sudden and uncontrolled changes in environment it was normal. Not so much for Rol’Q. Rol’Q: Why did we leave the Chin’toka? G’Renn: That’s how Starfleet works. Sometimes we go between different ships. And each time it’s a new adventure. Do you remember your first day at the school on Earth? That had been even more of a headache. Before then, Rol’Q’s main experience with school was a Vulcan early learning program. She knew all too well that doing things the Vulcan way often meant that those hybrids and other species who indulged in emotion and did not strive for perfect logic could feel somewhat left behind. But that evening Rol’Q had come back excited to tell her and Savok every detail of his day at school. Rol’Q: Yeah… G’Renn: This’ll be just like that. You’ll get to meet the other kids on the ship and meet your new teacher. ::She wrapped her hand around his and gave a reassuring squeeze.:: Can we at least give it a try for today? Rol’Q: Ok. Anath could pick up on his unease through her touch telepathy, though she didn’t make too much of it. She glanced down at the boots that her grandfather had gotten for Rol’Q. The laces were still untied, leaving them only lightly secured. G’Renn: Alright. Breakfast is ready once you’re done getting dressed. Do you need help lacing your boots? Rol’Q: I can do it myself! She nodded in recognition of his determination to tie the shoes on his own and got up from the edge of the bed. Out in the main room she picked up a plate and helped herself to some breakfast. Sliced gespar and mapa bread toast with a Vulcan jam spread on top. She paired it with a cup of mint tea fresh from the teapot sitting on the counter. As she ate, Ug’yel sat by the door, having finally gotten the message that he was not to hover directly under the table while his people were eating. Anath recycled her plate in the replicator and sank onto the couch. She watched the dog, still waiting in place and praised his patience before summoning him over. G’Renn: maj! ::Patting her knee:: chol! The golden retriever bounded over to her and set his head on her knee. She pet his head and scratched behind his ear, earning a wagging tail of approval. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rol’Q walk over to the table and climb up into his chair. He had his toast and pre-cut gespar along with a cup of orange juice she had set out. Once he was done he hopped down from the chair, leaving his dirty plate on the table. Rol’Q: I’m ready! G’Renn: What do we need to do first? Rol’Q looked confused for a second before looking back to the table, and then to the replicator. Then it clicked. Rol’Q: Sorry! He rushed back over to the table, picked up his plate, and brought it over to the replicator. It was a little high up for him, but with arms outstretched he could barely place the plate in the alcove of the replicator to be recycled. A habit they had been working to instill in him. G’Renn: It’s fine. That’s something we need to get in the habit of, though. She reached for the controls to recycle the dish before Rol’Q raised his hand and blurted out a question. Rol’Q: Can I do it? Anath nodded and picked him up, giving him enough of a boost to reach the control panel. Rol’Q pressed the appropriate button and the plate was dematerialized for spare energy. She set him back down and did one last check of the room for anything she was forgetting before heading for the door. Rol’Q: Bye, Ug’yel! With that the doors slid closed behind them and they were off. Rol’Q held onto her hand as they headed for the turbolift. Rol’Q’s assigned classroom was on Deck 8. Which would also leave time to pick up an order of raktajino at the Brew Continuum on the way to her shift in sickbay. Rol’Q: Can we go exploring after school? There was the excitement that came with living on a Starfleet ship again. While being a Starfleet brat meant a life of uncertainty and change, it also brought with it a very interesting environment to grow up in. Anath was an adult and liked to consider herself fairly tranquil. Even still, she was frequently excited by the view out of the windows and the thrill of being out in space, the final frontier. There certainly would be no shortage of places to explore, even if some areas were obviously off-limits to Rol’Q. G’Renn: I think we can make that happen. Lieutenant Commander Anath G'Renn, M.D. Medical Officer USS Constitution-B & Rol’Q, Son of Kolrriq Civilian USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Ensign Rachel Flores Engineering Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

(( Ohnari’s Quarters - USS Constitution-B )) Finding the real liquor was probably not a wise thing. After having a long thought about what she wanted to do with her life, she had decided. The best way to make this type of decision was tipsy. That was why she was standing in front of Talia Ohnari’s quarters. She would recognize her, of course, she would, but at least the last time she had shown up to acost her, they left on good terms. The Orion rang the bell and waited until it opened. Grinning at the dark-haired woman who answered, Shedet shoved the extra bottle of wine toward her. Shedet: I…::hiccup::...have come to kidnap you again. Talia had confirmed that this blonde Orion, was the same blonde Orion that had taken over a passenger transport and made her miss the majority of her 7th brother’s wedding. She had planned on confronting her and demanding to know what she was doing in Starfleet….but she followed Cade Foster’s lead. He seemed to trust her. As did the Commodore. So..she decided to watch, and make her own opinion… Ohnari: ::brow raise, crossing her arms against her chest:: oO So much for my opinion…Oo Uuh…no? I’m kind of in my pajamas. As if the fuzzy tribble slippers and matching T-Shirt and shorts were a valid reason to prevent kidnapping. Shedet: For fun this time. Loooonnnnnggg story about how I am here….and how you’re here….but I gotta get my stuff from an Orion matron who is NOT going to be happy with my choices. Thought you’d like to stick it to them again and I need the help. Loooong story that wasn’t that long. She enlisted in Starfleet, end of story. And she assumed the drunk little greenie in pigtails in front of her had done similarly. Ohnari: And who exactly is going to be flying the runabout…? Seems a little dangerous given your current…uh…state. And didn’t we just avoid getting shot at ?? Shedet: Dangerous? Nah…maybe. Depends on their aim. This pseudo pirate woman was going to get herself killed. Her eyes rolled to the skies and she prayed for guidance. The deck plating didn’t answer. Tossing her hands up in exasperation. Ohnari: Alright, get in here. Give me five minutes to change. Shedet: Sure! (( Cargo Deck - Starbase 104 )) Getting to the cargo section of Starbase 104 was not difficult. The difficult part was convincing Ohanri to leave her commbadge in her room. What they were about to do wasn't quite legal. Well, retrieving her possessions was legal but not how she was going to. The cargo section of the station was massive and filled with interconnected containers and large cabins that were sectioned off for offices and storage for the many companies and independent freighters that came and went. It was Yadon Shipping that she as targetting. Matron Ishiv used it as one of their fronts. Starfleet Intelligence knew as many Cartels let it be known in case SFI wanted to hire them. That status created an uneasy piece which meant Shedet's plan had a lot better chance of succeeding. The Orion guards were not going to want to open fire with their weapons too quickly as Starfleet Security would descend on them. Now, the two heavy double doors ahead were closed, a cargo skiff humming quietly by the door with a few plasteel containers on it. Two guards stood there, burly and strong with no weapons but Shedet knew they could hold their own. Both she and Ohanri were crouched behind a few abandoned containers that were haphazard on the gangplank to the Yadon Shipping headquarters. They were in the open air section of the station so the wind blew while a few skiffs and a shuttle would fly overhead towards another part of the station. Crouching back down and looking to Ohnari, Shedet thumbed over her shoulder. Shedet: Alright, that's our target. Two guards on the outside. More than likely three or four on the inside. Matron Ishiv isn't here so we don't have to worry about her entorage. Ohnari: ::glaring:: Oh is that all? Why didn't you say so. I'll just waltz up to the door and politely ask for your stuff back then. She was grumpy. Awoken by a crazy lady in pigtails half drunk and forcing her on a reckless adventure in the name of "fun" does that to you. Shedet: ::smirk:: You're going to distract them in that outfit? Glancing down at the off color jumpsuit she snapped her eyes back up. Wasn't this whole thing her plan?? Ohanri: ::bitingly:: Well my stars, I've seemed to have left my tactical bikini back on the Conny! Although the damndest part about it, she wasn't wrong. Hissing out in frustration, Talia yanked out the band in her hair, shook out the ebony waves while angrily unbuttoning an alarming amount of buttons and shoving her arms out of the sleeves. Tying them tightly around her waist, she glared with as much venom as she could, half crouched, displaying a tight undershirt wide band of skin, and suit hugging her hips. Ohnair: I swear if I die like this, I'm coming back to haunt you. Shedet just grinned Suffice to say, Ohnari was better at it than Shedet had thought. They were distracted long enough for Shedet to sneak up and render them unconscious with the subtle “slam their head into the side of a crate” maneuver. The office was dark and dusty. It appeared that it had not been used in quite awhile. The low watt safety lights were on which gave enough shadow for them to creep through. Shedet led the way knowing Ohnari had her back. Why and how the Orion could not figure out but her brain was still a bit clouded from the alcohol. The adrenalin though was slowly clearing it. Peering over a parked skiff that was powered down and looked as if it hadn't been moved in a few years, Shedet knew her stuff would be in the room between the guard shack and the empty office. Motioning quietly, the two crept to the storage room, gently opened the door, tried to will the squeaky hinges silent, and slid in. Shedet looked at the pile of stuff in the room. Shedet: Okay! My bag is gonna be green with blue stripes. Talia was absolutely certain this was some kind of elaborate prank. At any moment now, the crew of the Conny was going to jump out and shout "SURPRISE!!!". Anything to scrub the memory of trying to distract the guards by asking them if they had any spare tool grease to lend her….Shedet could not have knocked them out any faster. Ohnari: There isn't a bomb in there or anything…is there? Shedet: Nah. Nothing so exciting. Trying to be as quiet as possible, her heel caught the side of a crate, trying to muffle her cry of pain, Talia shoved her face into the nearest thing she could find: A green bag with slightly faded blue stripes. Ohnari: ::hushed:: I uh…found it I think. The Orion shifted through it and nodded mostly to herself. Everything was there. Her gauntlet, clothes, everything she had planned to take before changing her mind. Shedet: Now…the office. To erase our presence. Having made their way to the office, pushing aside a civilian stun phaser that was laid there, Shedet quickly tapped on the computer bringing it alive. It only took a few minutes to bypass the ancient security and wiped the log and cameras of their presence. She set the reboot for the next 20 minutes. If they were lucky, no one would realize what they had done. Shedet: Alright. I've got the camera footage wiped out. We just need to make our way out the way we came---- The door opened and the duo found themselves standing in front of an older Orion with dark head and an intricate crown that advertised her status as a Matron. Ishiv: ::confused:: Shedet? Shedet: Frak! Without thinking about it, she grabbed the phaser from the desk, checked the setting at a glance and fire dropping the woman where she stood. Ohnari: ::eyes widening:: I thought you said she wasn't going to be here! And you just shot her??? Habitually, the doctor in her shook off the shock and inspected the now prone figure for life signs. Of course they were there, and strong. Shedet: ::panicking:: I don't know! I thought that was the best option. That's my old Matron I'm trying to avoid. Ohnari: I gathered. Based on the gaudy hat of hers…do you always shoot first or are you just showing off for me? Shedet: Fine. Next time we raid a Syndicate base and run into your matron, I'll let you decide. Ohnari: ::barking out a laugh:: Right. As if I'm ever gonna get in a turbolift with you ever again after this. Can we go before there are more unexpected visitors?? Then, a thought hit her. Her face broke into a devious grin. Ohnari: Wait- Quickly Talia dropped down and snatched the ornate crown off the prone woman's head. Ohnari: ::grinning:: Souvenir. Shedet grinned back at her new friend. Shedet: Great minds! With that, they scurried out the door to the surprise and alarm of the new Orions that had arrived. Suffice to say, none of them knew what was going on in the dark and by the time they had figured it out, Shedet and Talia were long gone. The two threw themselves into the industrial turbolift and it began its descent back to civilization. Shedet slumped to the floor, turned to look at Talia and then laughed. Shedet: Okay. That was more chaos than I intended. The adrenaline was coursing through her veins, so much that for the last hour, the logical part of her brain just completely shut down in utter protest. Ohnari: When DO you intend chaos…? Because I want fair warning so I can hop through the nearest wormhole to avoid it. Shedet: Don’t give me that. You thoroughly enjoyed that. ::pointing to crown:: Not to mention you’re turning into a pretty good pirate. Talia grinned and placed the ornate crown haphazardly on her head and gave a haughty wave. Ohnari: ::adopting an overly snooty accent:: I simply have no idea of what you speak, my dear. I am a model citizen. She burst into a fit of giggles as she slipped off the ridiculous crown. Shedet: Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. You just showed me you got a wild side. We’re going to be best of friends. Just like I thought we would when I kidnapped you. Ohnari: ::smirking:: Just how every solid friendship begins, on a foundation of felonies and escapades…. --- JP By… Ensign Talia Ohnari, MD USS Constitution-B C239205ME0 & Chief Petty Officer Shedet Science Officer USS Constitution-B V238008N10

It was quiet. Far too quiet. And dark. How did it get so dark? Suddenly, there was light everywhere. Her arm raised involuntarily to block the sudden and near blinding light. Now, the room was filled with an excited buzzing as a loud, larger than life voice boomed somewhere above her. Announcer: Gooooooooddd evening ladies, gentlemen, and undeclared!!! Tonight is an ultra special night oooofff....INTERGALACTIC MASTERCHEF!!! The excited buzzing turned into a fever pitch of cheering and applause, the light above her narrowed and focused directly on her, all other lights kicked off. A hush fell over the unseen crowd. At least she thought it was a crowd, it had to be, based on the noise level. Where was she? And how did she get here...? And...was she wearing a chef apron?? Announcer: In this special event, we've brought you someone straight from the Halii homeworld, Miss Talia Ohnari!!!! Again the unseen but very much heard crowd roared to life. Where was she?? And Intergalactic masterchef? Was that show still on...? Besides, she was a baker...was this some sort of prank? Announcer: Aaaand in this ultra-special prime time event, we've got our reigning champion....THE BUTCHER BOSS!!!! The light above her was still blazing hot, but about thirty feet away another bright light kicked on and there was a dark robed, faceless figure with a bloody chef's coat raised his meaty fists in the air, before bowing to the crowd. Dear Gods this could not be real. She tried pinching her leg, but somehow she just couldn't move. Frozen in the beam of light. Announcer: Now that we've met our contestants let's find out about ouuurr ::booming:: SECRET INGREDIENT!!! Again, the crowd was explosive with excitement. Alright. She could do this, she could make whatever was needed and find a way to get out of here and back to....back to....wait, wasn't she just on the beach?? Glancing down, she realized she was in her swimsuit and barefoot under her chef's coat. Ohnari: What in the.. Suddenly, she wasn't on a stage anymore, the spotlight was gone, and she was in a kitchen. The strangest kitchen she'd ever seen. It looked more like a morgue...and why was it freezing? instinctively, her hand tried to find what should be her communicator, but it was just a chef coat. A blank, communicator free patch of white. Announcer: Now, we all know the rules. The chefs have not been given any clue as to what it was....::a loud groan fluttered across the room:: Well....Butcher Boss may have helped us procure it....Sorry there Tali, winner's prerogative... Ohnari: It's...uh...ok? The dark hooded figure let out a menacing laugh that seemed to cut right through her. Announcer: So, if our chefs will please remove the table cloth we caaaan....::the crowd roared to life:: GET TO COOKING!!! Again, all the blinding light and cheering. Barely able to find her own hand in front of her, she was suddenly holding a table cloth in her hands and looking down on....OH GODS. A scream ripped through her. There, in a metal box, was a Trill Symbiot. And not just any Symbiot, it was Rajel. Clambering backwards, the sounds of utensils and pans crashed all about her. The crowd was again deafening, and suddenly the darkened figure was right in front of her. Stepping out from behind him, was a completely healthy looking Commodore. Well...mostly healthy. Jalana appeared next to her with a gaping hole haphazardly across her stomach. Jalana: C'mon Tali, you don't have to worry, I'm fine without him. Butcher Boss was surprisingly gentle. Besides, I've heard it tastes of chicken! (( The Space, Starbase 104, Several Days After Arrival )) Screaming, Talia shot up from her previously reclined position on the cushioned lake chair. Around her, the light had partially faded. It was a dream. A dark, shockingly disturbing dream. She'd never felt so confused and terrified in her life. She reached up to try and check her own pulse when a half eaten cucumber and Andorian pickle sandwich fell to her lap. Ohnari: YOU! Betrayed by that sweet, salty Andorian brine. She tossed the sandwich away as if it was burning her and stood, shaking off the last vestiges of that horrific pickle-induced nightmare. --------------------------------------------- Ensign Talia Ohnari, MD USS Constitution-B C239205ME0

(( Starbase 256; One week prior to arrival on the Constitution )) Cohen: I'm shipping out in a few days. Seth hunched over the comms panel, his face lit only by the screen and a lamp set to its dimmest setting in a nearby corner. A duffel sat beside him at the foot of his bed, already packed. Only a few stray odds and ends were left to be packed before he was to leave the station and arrive at Starbase 104 for his new assignment aboard the USS Constitution. The face on the other end of the call simply nodded, pursing his lips in that way he often did when he was feigning happiness. Or pride. Or anything, really. It didn't matter. Seth didn't expect much, anyway. Cohen: I've been assigned to Engineering. His father did give a hint of an actual smile this time but seemed to catch himself and take a deep breath, returning quickly to his usual, stoic self. Why was it that he did that? Why couldn't he just let himself feel? Abraham: That's good, son. Seth paused, not sure what to say. Cohen: That's it? That's good? I've graduated, Dad. I'm a bona-fide Starfleet officer now, and the best you can muster is, 'that's good?' Abraham sighed and shook his head. Abraham: Well, it is. You've done well for yourself, it seems. Seth gave a sigh of his own and sat back in his chair. He brushed his hair back from his forehead, clasped his hands between his knees, and leaned forward again. Cohen: I was surprised to be assigned to Engineering, you know. Abraham: Why? Cohen: It was never my favorite discipline, to be honest. I honestly saw myself in security, or tactical maybe. But, Engineering? Abraham: Well, clearly they saw something in you, son. Seth nodded. He knew that was about as close to an "I'm proud of you" he was going to get from his father. In the background, Seth heard a dog bark and Abraham motioned "one moment" to the camera before standing and exiting the frame. oO I honestly don't even know why I try anymore. Ever since mom died... Oo Abraham came back into frame and settled into his chair. Cohen: Let me guess. You gotta go? Abraham: ::nodding:: Rebecca is here. She just got back from Risa with Susan. I have to help unload the transport. Becca's pretty worked up after being gone for two weeks. Cohen: You know, Dad, I've been gone for two years. You didn't even make it to the grad- Abraham: I know, son. Look, I was thinking... let me know when you get settled and get some shore leave and I will come visit? It'll be good to see you. Cohen: Sure... sure, that sounds good. Seth knew it wouldn't happen. What's more, he knew he didn't want it to. His relationship with his father had become more and more strained these last few years, though neither of them ever really spoke of it. They just kept going through the motions, for better or worse. Usually the latter. Most days Seth was okay. It took a conversation like this to send him plummeting back to that place he'd been three years before. Back to that terrible day that he'd just as soon forget. He wondered whatever had come of that memory technology he'd heard that the Daystrom Institute was working on. Or maybe it had just been a rumor. Anson: =/\= Anson to Cohen. You comin', buddy? =/\= oO Finally! Oo Cohen: =/\= Cohen, here. Yeah, I'm about to head your way. =/\= Abraham: Looks like you gotta go. Cohen: Yeah. A few of us are getting together for a last hurrah before we go our separate ways. Not sure where Anson is landing yet, though. I'm hoping he can get assigned to the Constitution, but we'll see. Abraham: I hope he does. A hand found its way to his shoulder. Seth guessed it was Rebecca's but she didn't lean in to say hello, so he couldn't be sure. As she walked away, Abraham turned back to the camera. Cohen: I'll talk to you later, Dad. Abraham: Bye, son. The screen abruptly changed to a simple blue screen with the Starfleet logo and the words: END TRANSMISSION. Seth breathed a sigh of relief that he'd made it through the conversation without an argument. At least there was that. Cohen: ::tapping his comm badge:: =/\= Cohen to Anson. I'll see you in five. Save me a seat at the bar. Ensign Seth Cohen Engineering Officer USS Constitution-B C239904SC3

(( Resplendent Ascendance )) When he materialized in the transporter room of the Dryarian vessel, he was met by the humanoid with larger eyes, violet hued skin and for the lack of a better word, a sleek appearance. Nugra had recognized him immediately as a Dryarian male though it had been too long for him to recognize the rank on the sleeves of his tunic. Tinik: Ambassador Nugra. Nugra: It's Senior Commander. I no longer hold an Ambassador position with the Federation. Tinik: I see. Senior Commander. Who do you represent now? Nugra: The Gorn Confederation, my people. I am not a citizen of the Federation. I'm here as an exchange capacity. Tinik: ::nods:: The Arda awaits you. I am ship master Tinik. I shall lead you to her. Through the gentle sloping corridors and soft floors, what the Dryarians lacked in ships and size, they made up with quality. If someone thought a Federation vessel was high standard living had never been on a Dryarian vessel. The Gorn was finally led to a room which the door swished open with a puff of air. Stepping in, he glanced around the oval room with a bay window facing out into space. Gauzy curtains were pulled back and the trickle of a water fountain could be heard somewhere in the room. Turning from her marble like table, the young woman broke into a soft smile and stood, the folds of her robes falling and straightening as she glided over to him. Iria: Thank you for coming so quickly. I was not sure after our quick meeting if you'd be able to come. I apologize for turning down the quarters offered aboard ship but my security is very loath of letting me out of their site when we have no formal standing with the Federation. Nugra: Quite alright Arda Iristi. Iria reached down and took his clawed hand in her two and smiled gently at him. Iria: ::softly:: You can call me Iria. Emotion clawed at Nugra's throat. The years they had been separated showed him how much of a monster he had been to her. Turning his war orphan at the Battle of the Singularity in to a weapon of war. (( FLASHBACK - 2384 - Peska Alora )) OOC: Original Fic I wrote in 2014 The giggles and laughter woke Nugra up from his idle nightmare and he quickly located Iria. She was running around with a couple village children wielding sticks. He relaxed and watched them play happily. The taking of the Dragon’s Claw had been hell, the teams had been originally pinned down, but it only succeeded because of the young girl running about and playing. Iria had developed a method of hamstringing attacking Gorn troops by racing and bobbing around them while strike at their heels with her knives. She had gotten to good. The sound of her laughter as she cut them made him shiver. Though she was seventeen in age, her mental age was much younger. All she had known was war and blood. oO What have I done? Oo Coming back had put in to light how much of a monster he had become. How could he have done so much to such an innocent girl whose world was caught in the crossfire? Iria had become an excellent killing machine. A little murderess that delighted in destroying the enemy. The doors of the monastery creaked open and immediately the kids took off running. Iria instead turned, brandishing her stick ready for a fight. Nugra: ::softly:: Iria, come. Immediately, the girl was by his side ready to strike. Four women wearing elaborate dresses of scarlet with violet trimming, their faces were obscured from the veils across their faces. They approached with a graceful, but a walk full of purpose. The exquisite decoration spoke of their years of tradition and dedication to their creed. The people of Peska Alora were used to them, but to strangers unfamiliar with the outer rim of the galaxy, they would have found them strange and obsolete. Iria: Father. They are trained. How do we proceed? Nugra: We don’t. Stand down, daughter. His words caught her by surprise and she broke her gaze to look at him for some sign of his meaning. She obeyed though without hesitation. Nun: The celestial mother sends you her greetings, Nugra son of Moong. Nugra bowed his head to the leader and placed his left hand on his heart. Nugra: and I accept them with open heart, sister. The Gorn could not see the expression from under her veil, but even if he could see her face, their thoughts and decisions were enigmatic. Nun: The celestial mother has reviewed your request and has accepted. She has also accepted your offer in trade. We shall take her now. Out of the corner of his eyes, Nugra watched Iria’s expression and to her credit, she understood what they meant. Her curiosity changed to hatred and she dashed forward with a battle shriek. From under her tunic, she drew a Gorn Slish'Kot and it flashed out towards the throat of the lead sister in a blur of silver. It was met by a small, decorative blade and easily deflected. Two of the other sisters stepped forward and intercepted Iria’s erratic and ferocious blade. Together they cornered her, batted her weapon from her hand and subdued her. Iria found herself caught in an interlocking hold that pinned her arms behind her back and placed pressure on her spin. Iria: ::Shrieking:: Father! Help me! A darkness descended on Nugra’s heart as he did something he knew would damned him for the rest of his life. He turned and began to walk away. Nugra: Father? FATHER! The Gorn heard the agonizes screams of his daughter as the Sisters of Conscience and Fidelity began to drag her to the monastery doors. Iria: ::sobbing:: DADDY! Daddy! Please save me! Tears welled up in Nugra’s eyes as his continued to walk down the path away from the estate. The doors thundered shut and silence descended on his walk. He had just betrayed the one he loved to those who could help her become a proper member of society. His love for her had burned any chance of being loved back ever again. The betrayal was complete. He had become a monster. (( END FLASHBACK )) Here Iria stood though. A grown woman, much more mature than she had been when he last saw her. When Nugra stepped down from command of the USS Victory years ago, he had lost track of her. He heard rumors she was on Starbase 118 and then vanished. He found her in the Gamma Quadrant with the Dryary. Iria: Will you be okay? Nugra: There is...a lot of emotion right now that I'm trying to process. Iria: That is okay. There is a lot. Nugra: Why are you here, Iria? You said you were going to stay with the Dryary. Iria: There are some things I need to do and tell you before that. There was a hint of sadness in her voice that he was not quite sure what it was. He tilted his head in a way she was familiar with and the smile came back. Iria: But not now. Will you provide me a tour of the Starbase and your new posting? Nugra: ::smiling:: Sure. Come with me. ~*~ PNPC Senior Commander Nugra Intelligence Officer USS Constitution-B

(( nature preserve program, Holodeck 4 )) What was always most shocking to Lazarus was how quiet it could be. Every movement, every step, every brush of fabric-on-fabric was audible. CRUNCH The sound of his foot landing on a dry leaf was almost deafening in the moment. Somewhere nearby and overhead, a bird called. And a reply cascaded through the trees. Calling and receiving. Communication. Behind him, he heard the sound of the hologram dissipating, followed by the industrial noise of the holodeck door opening and closing. Someone must have come in. That was fine. He wanted to be alone, but he also didn't want to exclude anyone. He didn't realistically need the whole holodeck to himself, so he set it to a public session. He absent-mindedly hummed a line of a song to himself, just a fragment that bubbled up suddenly to the surface of his mind. "I lost my memory today, the day my ship set sail" would have been the lyrics. He kept moving on his hike. He had moved past feeling pain about destroying the Theseus. It was regrettable, but the Theseus and Elder created the scenario, not him. He, like anyone else on the Conny, had to deal with the situation they were thrust into. The repercussions of Jalana's rescue mission were clearly profound, but not going was the correct choice. When they left, he was still angry at Elder, the Theseus, and himself; all of it. No one benefits from someone so distracted on such a delicate mission. Had he gone, it could have gone much, much worse. And Heeka ended up going in his place, more or less. He heard the stories of her and T'Aven in the mines. She was a better choice. // Imas stepped through the threshold and into the projection of the nature preserve. The door closed behind her, and its hydraulics exhaled in sync with her own exhale. As the hologram obscured the door, she felt her shoulder tension lessen. She became aware of the posture of her spine. The last mission was an unmitigated success. Or so she had thought until right about the emergency beam out. The state of Jalana, Lystra, Spears, Flores, everyone. Something happened to Saveron and T'Aven, too. She was a bit shaken around. A few good bruises, scrapes, and cuts. Within an hour she was totally healed, showered, and in bed. Lystra lost a hand. That cannot be undone, even with a cloned replacement. Looks, feels, acts like the original hand... but it isn't. She knew the term for it: survivor's guilt. This had a bit of a different flavor, though. not so much "why me?" as it was "why them?" This was a new feeling for Imas. The simple dirt path lay in front of her, uneven from all the roots crossing it, and flanked on both sides by trees. The canopy overhead was readily pierced by the mid-morning sun. In the distance, a bird call. It sounded like a robin. On Cardassia, when a comrade falls in battle, there is a sadness but there is also a sense of glory to it. A Cardassian would offer genuine sympathy to a friend in Lystra's situation, and help them adjust to the new reality. "Such a sad thing for this to happen to such a good person." But it would all have the flavor of acceptance, or even pride. There was no greater honor than to die in service of Cardassia. To be injured in service was something to be proud of. But right now, this hurts. When Imas caught a glimpse of Lystra when she stopped by sickbay, Imas imagined what she would feel if it were her. She explored it deeper, instead of intellectualizing it by saying "a military officer losing a limb is almost expected." She felt fear, sadness, dread. She felt violated. And then began to observe the abyss of what she couldn't even fathom. What was this reaction? She'd seen worse even in basic training. Leaves crunched ahead. Whoever started the program wasn't terribly far away. Imas strode forward, realizing she wished to be near others right now, while feeling so vulnerable. // Whomever else joined was on the move. The sounds echoed around the trees, making it hard to tell what direction they were moving. No matter. If not going was the right choice, and he wasn't upset about the Theseus; what was it? His first command was a successful, albeit brief, mission. Things with Queen were feeling... less awkward. He still didn't really know a lot about her. He hadn't really asked a lot of deep questions, not sure of how she felt about it. Their differences in communication made reading emotions and body language challenging, but they were coming along. He wished he could just tell her how he felt, but he didn't want to scare her off or upset her. The footsteps approached, so he turned to see who it was. // Lystra's hand. Spears. Jalana. T'Aven. Lystra's hand. The hand. So much pain. This is why you weren't supposed to fraternize in the military. These weren't fellow soldiers, these were comrades. Family, even. And she let her family get hurt, forever changed. No, she did her part--and so did the others. They were overwhelmed. As she approached, the person turned to face her. It was Davis--! Her sorrow and fear catalyzed into anger. Heeka: You..! He was clearly surprised by her reaction. Davis: Er, hello? Heeka: Where were you on that mission? To say she sounded interrogative would be an understatement. Davis: I was oversee--::he realized she wasn't asking where he was, but a reason for his absence:: I was a liability. Heeka: You know Spears barely made it? And Jalana? But you had *feelings*? Lazarus looked down and exhaled through his nose, then slowly inhaled before continuing. Davis: ::quietly:: I'm well aware, yes. I asserted to Saveron that I was emotionally compromised, and he agreed. The list might have been longer had I gone, or the list of people that came back shorter. She scoffed and turned away. A convenient argument. Had he been there, with his science expertise, it would have made a difference for the better. Heeka: If you saw-- Davis: Imas, remember Marcinko? Security officer, in the mines. Heeka: ... yes? Not specifically, but she recalled he was a security officer lost on the mission. Davis: He was vaporized by a disruptor set on maximum. I gave the order that got him killed. Heeka: Are you saying I should pity you? That you are inept? Davis: The order I gave him was to defend our position so we could complete the mission. Heeka: What are you getting at? Davis: That sometimes even good decisions have negative consequences. Heeka: ::flabbergasted:: I know that! I--::calming down:: Your presence would change the odds. Shedet isn't even an off-- Davis: I'm going to stop you right there, Lieutenant. I don't think you want to finish that. I'm Chief Science Officer because I fit the role, not because I'm the "best" scientist on the ship. Don't confuse rank with capability. Heeka: I did not come here to be lectured. Davis: Funny, I could say the same thing. A squirrel and a woodpecker had a brief disagreement overhead. The chattering and flapping punctuated the pause in their conversation. Heeka: I... apologize. I just-- I've seen death before, and extreme injury. But it's never hit me like this. Is this what it always feels like to you? He looked at the woman, studying her face and contemplating. Davis: I don't know you well enough to answer that. Heeka: :: She frowned and looked away:: No, you don't. Davis: If you're asking if it ever gets easier seeing people you care about get hurt, then the answer is no. Heeka: How do you carry on, then? Davis: You get better at coping with it. More efficient. I had to learn how to construct productive narratives. Heeka: ... what? Davis: The story of the events, the interpretations of them and the perspectives taken on them. I can't change the events, but I can change all the other things. Heeka: I cannot envision an "interpretation" of this mission that makes it hurt less. Davis: You won't find one. Heeka: Then what is the point of this exercise? Davis: Look at my shoes. I accidentally stepped into a brook earlier. I'm covered in mud and my feet are wet. If I tell the story about my time here that focuses on muddy, wet feet; it might give someone the impression that I hated this hike. Heeka: Ah. "Because of a great love, one is courageous." Davis: I'm not sure I know that one. Heeka: Shame. It's from an Earth philosopher, Laozi. It means love and courage go together, like how a cup has an outside and an emptiness in the middle. That didn't make a whole lot of sense to Lazarus, but he was relieved that Imas was relieved. There was a silence between them for a moment. Heeka: I am grateful you did not join us in the rescue operation. The words were genuine, not sarcastic. Davis: Thank you. I'm going to continue my hike, in my muddy shoes. They nodded to each other, not exactly smiling, but there was a warmth. Lazarus strode forward on the path he was on, and Imas took the fork in the path. —— Lieutenant Lazarus Davis Chief Science Officer & Lieutenant JG Imas Heeka

For context, our resident sentient EMH asked the new Bynar engineers to help change his appearance from the default one to one of his own choosing. While on the holodeck, one of them who specializes in remote controlled model starships had a scale version of the USS Atlantis he designed available to transfer Mark's consciousness into while the reprogrammed his core visual code, giving him something to do and to try and calm his anxiety while the hour and a half long procedure took place. Leading to the amazing journey of the MarkTwolantis. Props to @Sal Taybrim for such an adorable response to the opportunity available.

((Main Sickbay – USS Constitution-B)) Sometimes he would just stop. He would laugh it off as the creak of his bones, a flare up of an old injury or his favorite: ‘a senior moment.’ Laugh it off and hope that no one saw the thousand-yard stare. The haunted look in the old man’s eyes. He had fought, long and hard, to process the trauma of the Dominion War, and had emerged victorious. The ironic thing was he had to fight a war and then after the war he had to fight another war, but that second one was a battleground within his own mind. For a moment, as he held the kit, he saw a cargobay. A Jem’Hadar firing squad, disruptors aimed at a Captain Kenta and his intel officer MacNa-somethingorother. It wasn’t McNamara, that’s what Cade had always said and somebody always corrected him. It didn’t matter. He was dead. Cade had made sure the correct name was on the coffin. Kenta was a fair Captain, a perfectly decent Captain. Cade didn’t have a strong relationship with him in either way – neither positive nor negative. But Benjamin Kenta was the fiancée of one of his dearest friends Daisy Davidson. Like every relationship from Cade’s past this one was a knotted and tangled web that boiled down to: he needed to see Kenta live through this. Foster: ::With a drop of his tone into a sober darkness.:: Jem’Hadar Triage kit ::he flipped it open and prodded a hidden pocket to reveal a small vial.:: Still has the ‘White even. His hands were already slick with blood trying to close the wounds of two fellow officers rescued from a Dominion prison. One was a friend. A good friend. Someone he didn’t want to admit that he specifically weaseled himself into this recuse mission to save sort of friend. The other was a bright kid a few months out of the Academy. He didn’t want to lose them either. How was he such a good pilot? Some wondered that last mission as he flew the drive section of the Constitution in loops good enough to be counted as a first-year helm officer. Dominion war. He could see MacNa-whatever his name was – his gambit. A suicide maneuver that allowed Captain Kenta a chance to run. When Kenta ducked into the shuttle, Cade already had it warmed up, blood-slicked prints all over the controls. Ohnari: Doctor Foster did you... Two dozen Jem’Hadar troops rolled in seconds after the main hatch of the shuttle closed, and they shouldered their rifles, taking aim at the poorly shielded shuttles’s vital areas. The First calculated that they would have time for at least two, if not three good shots once landing thrusters were fired – and with any luck it should bring the craft and prisoners down before they even got beyond the perimeter alarms. What he didn’t calculate was the near-suicidal gamble of the shrewd Starfleet rescue team and the idiot doctor at the helm to forgo landing thrusters – forgo basic maneuvering thrusters even, and to simply slam the throttle to full thrust. A massive burst of fire erupted behind the tiny ship, which hit the back wall and coiled around, popping the ship through the damaged hangar bay doors like a cork out of a champagne bottle. It spun dizzily forward into the open air before getting its bearings and taking off straight upward like a shooting star in reverse. Behind it, the corpses of twenty-four charred Dominion soldiers stood in salute of a maniac gamble that paid off before they crumbled into ash. It was several more long seconds before those blue eyes returned to the Constitution and present day, 2398. Foster: ::quietly, musing.:: Been a long time since I’ve seen one of these. Ohnari: ::stone faced:: Perhaps not long enough. Never long enough, she had that right. For a moment he looked back at Talia and then the gaze snapped back into focus. He recognized her, in the here and now. Doctor Sweetheart. Conny. Saveron. Rescue Jalana. Always another rescue mission. May there be less blood this time. Foster: We need to sort these by usefulness and function… Was that a specific avoidance of the topic? Yes. He had spent enough time in the past for today. Ohnari: Yes. I believe we can toss that one. oO Into the nearest sun. Oo Foster: I’ll put it in quarantine. He hated to admit that the Dominion had some useful stuff. But was usefulness worth the pain of mental trauma? Probably not. Ohnari: Do you think we could replace the missing or broken pieces without looking too obvious...? ::holding up a few items:: Between these three, I can make about one functional kit...and that's stretching it. He nodded, rocking on his feet and considering. Foster: Yeah with a few modifications we can bulk up these kits. Camouflage our tools to fit in. Good idea. She held up another few pieces and looked at them with disgust. Ohari: I doubt any of the senior staff would appreciate becoming septic if forced to use some of these... He perked a brow at the basic Demerol suture device. It was basic, barbaric. It saved lived in front line triage. Cade was embarrassed how many times he had to use one of those to just stop bleeding. The sutures could be removed later and required some extra fancy cosmetic surgery work to remove the somewhat barbaric scarring. Surgery work he was all too used to. He had used those sutures on the Dominion rescue mission. In the end the only life he couldn’t save was MacNa… MacNab? No. It would come to him. Foster: Demerol’s better than Derma-Plast ::he shrugged.:: Ohnari: ? He started gather up the most useful tools into one pile as well as the medical kit cases. The cases were the most important. Foster: Oh yeah, we’re gonna run this entire batch through not one but two full cycles of class A sterilization protocol. Because you’re right, I don’t want anyone going septic. Ohnari: ? Rocking on his feet, he took out one of the bog-standard Starfleet medical issue hyposprays and placed it into the replicator, adjusting the settings on the control panel until there was a shimmer and the cosmetic casing on the device rippled and changed. He plucked it from the next and tossed it to Ohnari. Foster: There, how does that look now when you put it by the historical torture devices? It was a draft version of the cosmetic alterations they could make to the tools. Pretty good, but not perfect. Ohnari: ? Foster: Sure we can adjust. It’ll be easier if we do this in a batch. What tools do you need for a field med kit? That was, by and large, a personal preference. Cade liked certain tools that other doctors didn’t favor. And yes, he was taking that Demerol suture device. Ohnari: ? Foster: I’ll get this load into the sterilization chamber. You gather the real tools we need to cosmetically alter. We’ll gather back with the steri-chamber gives me the all clear. Clear. Something clicked. ‘Not MacNamara like Marinara, MacNameer like all clear.’ James MacNameer. Died, 237403.09 He had gotten the name right on the coffin. He hoped that there wouldn’t be a repeat. Ohnari: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ Lt Commander Cade Foster Mission Specialist USS Constitution-B

((Junior Officer’s Quarters – USS Constitution-B)) The atmosphere was warm, dry and lit dimly by the ambient lights that cycled on the power saving mode of a ship deep within its own internal repair cycle. And like the ship that sheltered them from the black and cold of the vacuum of space, so many of its passengers were broken and battered either in body, mind or spirit – sometimes all three – and cycling down to rest, relax and desperately repair. A thin haze of incense wafted through the room, a soft scent of musk and sand. It reminded him of his home world – one of them. Like the high arid plains of Vulcan. The solo figure knelt in the center of the room, a few thin regeneration patches for some low-grade electrical burns were the only badges of injury he visibly bore on his thin form. Some might say he had been lucky. He might agree. And yet his mind still pounded with a continual cycle of pain. Sometimes sharp and stabbing, more often dull and throbbing. Like waves crashing on the shore there was an ebb and flow, eased by sleep and hydration to a point, but always creeping back up in short order. Doctors assured him the mild head trauma would heal. There was always a trackable amount of cranial swelling and blood vessel changes that caused temporary pain. They offered analgesics. He had accepted, but was careful to take them, wanting to settle some of his rampant thoughts before he muted himself too much with drugs or sedatives. Taking a deep breath in, he was still. Trying to feel the weight of his body, concentrate on where his body was in contact with the deck and where his hands rested on his legs. Still. Breathe. ~Disconnect from your thoughts.~ He tried to pull back, allow his thoughts to move freely across his mental landscape and sit as an observer. This was a technique that had given him clarity in the past, allowing him to objectively visualize his emotions and understand what caused them and how to understand them more. ~Stay back and observe~ His breath hitched in his throat as he felt his consciousness sinking into a vast black pit. It was not the calm disconnect from his thoughts and emotions that he usually was able to achieve with time and effort, but a violent jerk backwards as if black tentacles were reaching out from an inky depth to pull him under. He felt like he was drowning. He could feel his heartrate spike and his face grew hot. His airway constricted to make each breath labored as he tried to draw it through his swollen throat and his mind twisted that into the feeling of sucking in tar. Pitching forward from his meditative position, he started coughing, but no water drained from his mouth. One hand formed a claw around his chest, digging in as the coughing fit rose in intensity until finally it reached a hoarse guttering rasp. Tears drained from his eyes and a ghost echoed through his brain. Her laugh. Her damnable laugh. It wasn’t stuck like a thorn in his psyche anymore, just a haunting memory. If he lingered too long on it, he could visualize himself falling down that well of interminable stairs, with her laughing at the top. Falling, always falling. Falling into a void where his calm should be. Placing both hands on the floor, he pitched forward in a tabletop position and tried to concentrate. To stop the floor from spinning underneath him. A wave of vertigo and nausea ran through his body as the room twisted giddily, and no amount of carefully controlled breathing exercises stopped it. A small whine escaped his lips and he slowly sank to one side and hugged his knees to his chest waiting for it to pass. ~why?~ He was trying to find center. To seek calm and see things objectively. To do things the Vulcan way, the way his grandfather had lectured on, the way that would make him controlled and logical. But all he wanted to do was sob like a stupid Human baby. Scream and yell and let the tears flow freely while swimming in a tidal wave of emotions that he could barely process. He wanted for someone to tell him it would be OK. Not now, not soon, but eventually. That with time it would ebb and recede and maybe, he would start to understand and grow stronger. He compromised. Tears wet his knees as he struggled to control his breathing and strive for control. A little bit of both. Just enough to stave away the panic, not enough to feel a full release of the building pressure of emotion that he couldn’t process in his usual ways. He was used to coming back to his quarters, expressing emotion, meditating, finding center and objectively gaining understanding. He had gotten much better at processing emotions in this way during his academy years, going from a deeply introverted, highly emotional first year cadet to a fairly stable, respected, friendly fourth year cadet known for his ability to work well with others. Each meditation was a step upwards and forwards, a chance to gain a better understanding of emotions and how to balance them with logic. But now everything was thrown out of balance. He had more emotions to process than he could possibly comprehend, and his tried and true methods of processing them weren’t working. Clearly not working from the fact that he was balled up on the floor of his quarters. Breathe… Breathe… Breathe. Slowly the room slowed and came to a stop. His head still hurt, but the feeling of sucking tar into his lungs was gone. He kept his eyes closed as he pushed himself back to his knees and pressed the palms of his hands into the sockets of his eyes, digging his thumbs into the pressure points at his temples until the pain faded. Ironically it was in these recovery periods where he felt the most grounded, focusing solely on stillness and breath, after the emotional wave was spent. Maybe he should take the medications? He wavered on that. He had to eat first. Eating sounded disgusting after the room-spinning nausea. Maybe he should drink something. That he might be able to handle. Slowly, getting equilibrium under him, he took tentative steps to the replicator and ended up with a warm mug of mellow, unsweet tea. Breathe. Drink. The doorchime rang and he straightened as if prodded with one of those electrical rods at full power, mug slipping from his hands. A deep olive shade of shame colored his cheeks as he dropped to his knees to pick up the pieces. So’Mior: Enter…? Saveron: ? He looked up, his dark eyes fixed on the doorway. The scent of meditation incense still lingered in the air, the rug was covered with the familiar slightly bitter scent of Mika, a traditional calming tea. Everything else was perfectly in its place, save the occupant. A rumpled uniform and bedraggled hair bespoke little sleep and too much movement for comfort. An unsettled mind. His eyes fixed on the older Vulcan and his jaw tightened against a new wave of emotion. Was he relieved? Embarrassed? Both? All at the same time he wanted the support and succor of someone to help guide him through this and yet was ashamed of his own state at the moment. He opted for soft politeness that was offset by his rather precarious position in gathering up the pieces of the teacup. So’Mior: Commander, greetings. Please, come in. Sit? His fingers fumbled for the last piece of shattered mug, rolling it along the wet rug instead of picking it up gracefully. And, like his scattered thoughts he finally captured it and got it with the others to take to the recycler. Saveron: ? So’Mior: I was startled. ::He stated it as honestly as possible. Not ‘you startled me’ – there was no reason to find anger nor fault in a doorchime. No, the fault – and the fault lines – were drawn within him.:: It will mend. He placed the pieces in the recycler and watched them fade into raw materials. Saveron: ? Slowly he turned towards the first officer, his expression was lost and searching. So’Mior: I… I don’t know. Saveron: ? Finally he moved himself from his lean by the recycler to a chair, which he sank down into with a steady exhausted bonelessness. So’Mior: I can’t… I can’t process it. I can’t find calm. I try and I feel like I’m drowning. If the hoarse tone to his voice said anything, feel like might be eerily accurate. Saveron: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ pNPC Ensign So’Mior Science Officer USS Constitution-B