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FltAdml. Wolf

official Arrival at StarBase 118 - introduce your character here!

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Counselor Jamie Sells arrives at starbase 118and his short blonde hair and very bright blue eyes are noticed straight away by the various races at the starbase.

"Time to relax for a while". Counselor Sells sat down in the nearest lounge. He couldn't believe that he had finally made it.

"I can't wait to get out there". His voice filled with excitement and wonder as he thought about everything that could happen in space.

 

Summary:

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Height: 5'11

Appearance: White skinned. Short blonde hair with very bright blue eyes. His eyes seem like they are always angry.

(I wrote my introduction as a guest but i felt like i wanted to do it signed in to my profile. The other "Jamie Sells" is me as a guest)

Edited by Jamie Sells

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Guest Olen Zackan "OZ" Daniels

<Starbase 118>

Oz had finally made it to Starbase 118 and had been shown to guest quarters. As he went to enter his temporary quarters a fleet officer walked up to him.

"Doctor Olen Daniels", asked the officer.

Oz turned to look at the man. He was holding a pad in one hand.

"Yeah, I'm Doctor Olen Daniels", Oz replied

The officer handed the pad to Oz. He accepted it looking both curious and puzzled.

"This is for you, an invitation, sir.", the officer stated before being on his way.

 An invitation to what? Oz thought to himself as he slid through the doors. He placed his luggage on the floor by the bed. He started examing the pad he had just received.

: To Doctor Daniels,

You've been invited to partake in a cadet training exercise on the holodeck. The location, as well as time, are listed below. :

Looking at the provided information, then though Oz thought why not. Holodeck simulations could be fun. If it also helped the cadets with their training it was a win-win situation in his book. He took care of his luggage, and then cleaned up from his long trip. There was still spare time before the exercise was to begin. He decided the best way to spent it was to see more of the station.

 

 

Character Summary

Olen Zackan "OZ" Daniels, PhD

Age: 500 Terran years

Species: El-Aurian

Eyes: Grey

Hair: Brown

Height: 6'6"

Weight: 240 lbs

Build: Athletic, Muscle

Birthdate: 071895.04 (7/4/1895)

Birthplace: San Francisco. California; Earth

Orientation: Homosexual 

Parents: El-Aurian scientists studying Terrans

Education: Holds Ph.D.'s in Anthropology, Linguistics, and Psychology. True to his species he is a natural at diplomacy, as well as having an eidetic memory.

 

 

Oz 1 9.20.2018.jpg

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Think of all the xenopsychology papers you could write just from observing people in the commercial district, Lazarus thought as he looked across the vastness of Starbase 118. People of all kinds working, living, eating, and learning together. Tellarites eating plomeek soup. Klingons playing darts. There's even a sign promising a show from "the only Vulcan comedian" at 2100 hours tonight. Lazarus must have looked like a kid in a candy store - eyes darting around, agape at everything around him.

"You never could stay focused, Davis," a gruff, but familiar and friendly voice from behind Davis startled him.

"Professor W'Hetlan! I didn't know you were on Starbase 118. It's good to see you!" Davis extended his hand to the Professor. The professor hesitated a second, but then grasped Davis' hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Yes, well... Field research. Or rather, I'm on my way to some - headed to the Gamma Quadrant. Should be interesting. I'll have two pairs of Binars with me as interpreters. We made first contact with a species that speaks in simple logical expressions, making the Binars well suited to understand it, but the meaning behind the expressions seems to be steeped in metaphor. Hopefully, together, we can figure their language out. Despite having a hard time talking, all of their overtures suggest they are a friendly and welcoming people." The professor's hesitance seemed to dissolve once the conversation was shifted more towards the work and less about interacting with Davis.

"Well, I look forward to reading the reports, Professor. Say, do you care to join me at the replimat? I'm still on Eastern Standard Time, so it's about lunch o'clock as far as my stomach is concerned." 

"Eh, sorry Davis. I need to find my quarters and rest before I depart. Maybe tomorrow?" W'Hetlan, again, seems palpably uncomfortable. 

Did I say something wrong? Lazarus wondered to himself. "I leave at 2000 hours tonight, I'm afraid. Well, good to see you Professor. Best of luck in the Gamma Quadrant."

W'Hetlan nodded and turned to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder while pointing at a sign. "Vulcan comic? Now there's something you don't see every day." He then chuckled to himself and headed off, leaving Lazarus to his thoughts.

Lazarus explored Starbase 118 for the 3 or so hours he had before it was time to board the ship. It was wonderful, if not a little lonely among the crowds. He was looking forward to meeting his new crewmates. When the time came, he headed to the airlocks for boarding. Around them were a few viewports for family and friends to watch people embark or disembark. Children, partners, parents, and friends would wait and watch and wave, elated to see their loved ones off or to see them after being away for so long. Lazarus didn't have anyone on the station. That was OK, he had a proper going away party or two before he left Earth. Besides; he was looking forward, not back.

But the sudden jubilation of a man seeing his husband for the first time in months caught Lazarus by surprise and he turned to look back down the gangway from the station to the ship. Standing at one of the viewports was Professor W'Hetlan. They made eye contact, and W'Hetlan smiled and nodded. For W'Hetlan, that was practically an emotional outburst. Lazarus smiled back and nodded before making his way to the ship, trying to casually wipe away a tear welling up in his eyes. It's not that he craved W'Hetlan's approval, it's just that Lazarus knew it was hard to come by, and that meant a lot. It was an unexpected cherry on top of an already tremendous day.

This is the beginning of your great adventure, Lazarus.

Edited by LazarusDavis
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<Starbase 118>

Oz had finally made it to Starbase 118 and had been shown to guest quarters. As he went to enter his temporary quarters a fleet officer walked up to him.

"Doctor Olen Daniels", asked the officer.

Oz turned to look at the man. He was holding a pad in one hand.

"Yeah, I'm Doctor Olen Daniels", Oz replied

The officer handed the pad to Oz. He accepted it looking both curious and puzzled.

"This is for you, an invitation, sir.", the officer stated before being on his way.

 An invitation to what? Oz thought to himself as he slid through the doors. He placed his luggage on the floor by the bed. He started examing the pad he had just received.

: To Doctor Daniels,

You've been invited to partake in a cadet training exercise on the holodeck. The location, as well as time, are listed below. :

Looking at the provided information, then though Oz thought why not. Holodeck simulations could be fun. If it also helped the cadets with their training it was a win-win situation in his book. He took care of his luggage, and then cleaned up from his long trip. There was still spare time before the exercise was to begin. He decided the best way to spent it was to see more of the station.

 

 

Character Summary

Olen Zackan "OZ" Daniels, PhD

Age: 500 Terran years

Species: El-Aurian

Eyes: Grey

Hair: Brown

Height: 6'6"

Weight: 240 lbs

Build: Athletic, Muscle

Birthdate: 071895.04 (7/4/1895)

Birthplace: San Francisco. California; Earth

Orientation: Homosexual 

Parents: El-Aurian scientists studying Terrans

Education: Over his 500 lifespan he has earned Ph.D.'s in Anthropology, Archaeology, Linguistics, and Psychology. True to his species he is a natural at diplomacy, as well as having an eidetic memory

Oz 1 9.20.2018.jpg

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"Cadet Corliss, reporting for duty!" The Betazoid with bubblegum pink hair saluted...to no one. She sat a table in a busy sector of the terminal, sipping an ice cold milkshake topped with chocolate shavings and caramel. She had on a regular cadet uniform with tall boots, her hair up in a ponytail, her voice chipper and light, her dark black eyes crinkled in delight...before she deflated.

"No no...that's too exciteful?" She mumbled, playing with the straw to her treat, tapping at a PADD with her other hand, a note to her parents that she had made it on time and without any issues.

She swung her legs, sipping a bit before groaning, scrubbing her hands through her hair. "This is so nerve-wracking! Come on orders, come on in!" She stared at her PADD.

The PADD was not swayed.

She sighed, twirling a string of hair around one finger. "Ah, I guess between I and time, only time will win in this battle of wills, neh?" She smiled, pursing her lips a bit, smearing the light lipgloss before popping them. "Mmm, cherry~! Ah, perhaps I should stock up on sweet things before going on board?" Would she have time? If it came in soon, she wouldn't. 

She hummed. "They'll have sweet things on board, I'm sure! But what to do until then..." She pulled up a small simulation to play around with, grinning and taking a sip here and there.

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Guest Cadet Jhotta

The station was teeming as usual, but today the multi-hued, motley pandemonium found itself saturated with a fresh wave of upturned faces, scrubbed and optimistic. 

Some gawped in wide-eyed wonder, others marched purposefully, some scurried with roving eyes and minds tumbling inward, preoccupied by whatever internal fires had sparked their current trajectory. Here and there a wizened set of eyes peered from youthful cadet uniform, looking outward and inward at the same time.

Jhotta stretched languorously, yawning without a trace of self-consciousness. More than one patron cast him a bemused side-eye as he gathered himself and his beverage from the perch where he'd been observing the passing river of Starbase flotsam and jetsam, leisurely setting off into the throng. 

He wound his way through the tumult, doing his own fair share of gawping at the scale and frenetic activity, albeit in his own way- mouth closed and eyes only slightly more alert than their usual half-mast. In contrast to the relaxed, almost-slouching manner in which he held himself, long fingers beat a restless, unconscious pattern against the container of whatever Vulcan tea the host had recommended him at the cafe. He could feel a familiar itch, a heat building beneath his skin. It was time to visit the holodeck. Soon. And not for training. 

Still, only a few hours remained, and he'd been advised that the Arboratorium was worth a look if you had any interest in xeno-botony, so he pressed on until he came upon an unassuming entrance off the main causeway. This unique venue doubled as a observation deck to the surrounding star-system, and tripled as an outdoor-style lounge. Paved walkways wound back from the entry-lounge throughout the foliage, beneath a star-scattered dome overhead. 

Jhotta wasn't completely insensitive to the surroundings, but lost no time in disposing of his beverage and setting off down a path towards where his primary interests lay. He'd gone some distance off the walkway and was bending down to better observe the epiphyllous growths on an odd, silver-hued specimen of what appeared to be an Andorian root shrub, when a high, clear voice pierced his concentration.

"The seed blisters of the Phyrillus Ankhim are known to be highly irritating upon contact with the skin if ruptured, which they are prone to do without warning. I wouldn't advise standing so close." 

Jhotta straightened and took in the source of the voice; a petite Vulcan female stood very erect, observing him from the pathway. Her slightly dark, olive complexion and upswept ears and brows mirrored his own, though her expression was far more alert and earnest.

"Thanks for the warning," Jhotta [...]ed his head slightly, hooded eyes taking in the cadet uniform, "Are you in the next wave of training, or have you just completed yours?" 

The woman arched that infamous Vulcan brow at him, nonplussed, "Thanks are unnecessary. It is logical to prevent undue injury to what may prove to be a future crewmate. Not to mention the inconvenience were we to be paired together." She paused, realizing she hadn't answered his query, "I will be engaging in the entry cadet training scheduled two days from now."

Jhotta barely restrained an expression of amusement he doubted the woman would appreciate, "Science track I take it?"

"Tactical actually. Botany is a... personal interest." 

"Too bad, I could've used some healthy competition," Jhotta said very seriously. In more usual tones he added, "Not of course that any track is guaranteed- I might wind up assigned alongside you in tactical, or, if we're both truly unlucky, security."

The woman looked at him strangely, but any response she may have made was interrupted by a sudden hubbub of decidedly un-Vulcan voices, preceding a group of rowdy young ensigns coming around the bend. 

"Ho- T'Priva! What are you doing here!" a young, ruddy-faced human exclaimed in a far-too-loud voice, his little group halting before them. "Come celebrate with us! Guess who just made helm on the Denver?" 

"Congratulations," said T'Priva, rather stiffly- which was saying something for a Vulcan. "I am, however," she glanced at Jhotta, "already occupied." 

Ever quick on the uptake, Jhotta tilted his head, "Indeed, I believe we only have 15 minutes until the nocturnal Rigelian Aberenth begins to unfurl for the evening." 

The lad focussed a wavering eye on Jhotta, then back on T'Priva, "Come on now, there's no logical reason that has to be done tonight- the plants will be here tomorrow."

Running with the prior invitation to interfere, Jhotta followed up laconically, "And there's no reason your celebration logically requires any additional presence this evening either, you seem to be having quite a good time."

"Hey man, ease up, nobody's trying to steal your girl," the ensign's face darkened as he addressed Jhotta, whose only response was to raise an eyebrow. "She's pretty alright for a Vulcan but it's not like that, we just want her to come have a bit of fun with us. I'm not dumb enough to fall into that trap."

T'Priva noted that at some point Jhotta had gone unnaturally still. She weighed the value of interceding, but determined to allow the situation to play out. She of course could not be offended, and had no reason to expect the young cadet would be so illogical as to take offense on her behalf either.

Jhotta pulled an innocent face, which should have been warning enough to anyone with good sense. "To what trap do you refer?" he inquired.

"Come on," the young man laughed, oblivious, joined in by some of his braver friends, "I've got better sense than to mess with someone on that kind of cycle."

Jhotta's face grew more innocent, "Cycle? I don't believe I understand, could you elaborate?"

The kid spit it out, guffawing a bit, "The kind where you go into heat like an animal every few years."

Oh, it was better than Jhotta could have hoped.

A throat cleared, just behind the assembled crowd on the walkway. 

"Ensign Jeffries," a decidedly unamused voice rang out into the sudden silence. Commander Lucia Gomez, of the Denver, stood with arms crossed behind the small party, "A word." She walked off, a woman who knew she'd be followed without question.

The others in the party had already melted away like so much snow in fair weather, and Jeffries shot one last, slightly-panicked, slightly-enraged glance back at Jhotta, catching a full wolfish grin spreading from ear to pointed ear. Jeffries eyed widened and Jhotta could make out flabbergasted sputtering as he himself turned and began walking back along the path he'd come. 

He could feel that tingling fire spreading out, crawling beneath his skin, and it was time to leave, now. But T'Priva did something highly unorthodox as he passed, and set a hand lightly on his sleeve. He paused. 

"Thanks are unnecessary," he remarked.  

She looked slightly affronted, "I was not going to thank you."

"Of course," he said, restraining his amusement again. 

"You are not Vulcan."

Jhotta flashed his teeth in something genuine, but a bit too sharp to be called a smile, "I think you're missing out on that scientist track."

He was about three meters down the path when T'Priva followed up with, "I hope you perform well in your upcoming testing. Cadet..."

"Jhotta." A real, if tired, smile this time, "Good luck to you too."

He made his way to the holodeck before he could find out whether the Starbase bulkheads were sturdier than Rigelian bones.

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The turbolift spat Cadet Jona ch'Ranni out into the spacious corridor of the Starbase 118 Promenade. He stumbled as his boot caught the lip of the doorway and he fell to the gray carpeted deck in an undignified heap. A passing Trill offered a kind hand to help him to his feet. He thanked her and it took all of his self-control not to gawk at the variety of sights and sounds that assaulted his senses. Bustling was the word he would use to describe the place. Hundreds of individuals milled along the path which spread out in both directions as far as the cadet's keen eyesight could see. His antennae twitched and swiveled independently, trying to take in the bright colors and constant hum of sounds that permeated the area.

Jona turned to the left and merged into the crowd of people that flowed like a river down the hallway. Jona's light blue skin beaded with sweat as he walked. The heat from the press of people around him warmed him more than was comfortable for an Andorian who was acclimated to the arctic temperature of his home world.

The fresh cadet, all of 24 years old, exited the crowd and found solace in the slightly cooler pub that he entered. It was called Keal's Pub and sported a rustic decor that appealed to Jona. He took a seat on one of the wooden stools at the bar. He nodded to a fellow Andorian, a strikingly beautiful woman, across the room. She inclined her head back to him with a slight smile. Jona was lost in thought as he turned back to the bar and was startled by a man standing in front of him across the countertop.

"You'll have a Samarian Sunset, I suppose?" said the middle-aged man with a smile.

"Yes, that's my favorite drink," replied Jona. "How did you know?"

"Betazoid," answered the man. "Makes my job pretty easy when I know what you want to order before you order it." He slipped the cadet a squat glass with a clear liquid inside. Jona tapped the glass and the drink swirled orange and gold. Just like he liked it.

"Thanks. I appreciate it," said Jonah. "What can you tell me about this place?"

"It's an amazing port," said the dark-eyed man. "There are wonders here that you have never imagined. Yet it's as familiar as home. You'll see. One thing that it's not is ... boring. Never boring." The man's description trailed off as he stared forward as if whole sections of his life were playing out before him.

This man had seen some things - not all of them pleasant but not all bad either. He just had an air of someone who had lived life and survived to tell about it. It reminded Jona that he had not lived much life beyond his youth and the few short years he spent at the Academy. He had spent more time in simulators and sitting in classrooms than actually living life. He was eager to add to his list of experiences, though, and this Starbase was going to be the epicenter of it all.

Jona tugged at the mustard yellow collar of his uniform. It was perfectly tailored to fit his slim body down to the micron but it wasn't a mistake in sizing that caused the nervous habit. His classmates loved to tease him about this - they called it the 'Jona Maneuver' much to his embarrassment.

A chime from his PADD reminded him of his upcoming appointment. He was to report to the Holodeck for training at 0900 hours. Just ten minutes from now. Better to be early than late. He thanked the bartender and downed his drink, setting it down with a plink. The cadet stood and stretched his limbs, loosening his muscles. He pictured his narrow fingers flying across the helm console, banking the starship as disruptor fire zipped past the nose of the ship.

"All hands, brace for evasive maneuvers," he whispered to himself. Yes, he was about to rack up some experience. He was ready for anything.

Edited by Jona ch'Ranni
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John exited the turbolift, into the bustle of the promenade. He was 32 years old, standing at 183 centimeters tall. His hair was cut in a short buzzcut, and he was muscular. If anything, he looked more like a Marine then Starfleet. This was in fact true. He had exchanged his Marine uniform for a Starfleet one, wanting a change of pace. He had chosen the medical field because of a desire to heal, as opposed to hurt people.

 

Straightening his uniform, he headed left, towards one of the large viewports. Having some time to kill, he looked out at space, and the various starships that were docked at the starbase. Sensing someone approach him, John turned around to see his old sergeant, sgt. Johnson standing there."Sarge..." He simply said as he nodded to him.

"John!" He exclaimed with a chuckle."I didn't believe it untill now. Joining starfleet...."He shook his head."And the medical field no less....Damn. Don't have the stomach for combat anymore eh?" He said laughing.

John simply stood there, listening to the insulting remark."Sarge....shut up, and leave me alone.." he said after a while, his eyed smoldering. "My decision is made. I want to save lives, not destroy them. Not anymore. Not after..." He fell silent, and turned to the window once again, ignoring his old sarge. 

 

Deep in thought, John didn't even notice his sarge had left untill his combadge chirped. "Cadet Williams, report to holodeck 23 for your training."

"Acknowledged." He said, before heading that way."Semper fi.." he muttered as he headed there, to his new life.

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Starbase 118 had at times been compared to a warren, or (perhaps more accurately) a hive. Tens of thousands of beings lived and worked amidst its halls, striving for a common goal.

Esbrun Vardai would only agree in part to that point of view. To the young Betazoid fresh off of the Academy shuttle, the station felt like a living thing itself, and one he felt he should get to know.

Another might have walked the streets of the Commercial Sector, or else visited the derestricted work areas. Not Esbrun. He instead checked his PADD to remind himself of his accomodation details, and took the first turbolift he could find straight down to the Lower Habitat area.

Despite being on the short side, Esbrun could cut a quick pace when he wanted to. Due to this, he soon found himself in the atrium of the complex containing his temporary abode. The place was deserted: the other Cadets from his vessel no doubt exploring elsewhere.

Upon finding his door and entering the access code provided on the PADD, Esbrun took stock of his quarters before shrugging off his heavy rucksack, which contained all of the luggage he needed: anything else could be replicated without too much trouble.

Lying back on the bed, Esbrun shut his eyes and opened his mind. Feeling the intangible pulse of the station, he followed the ebb and flow of thought and emotion throughout its structure, eventually managing to separate out the individuals from the mass. A handful of other minds blazed out like beacons: others with senses similar to his. A few perfunctory greetings - little more than psionic nods of the head - were sent his way and returned.

Esbrun grinned. Starbase 118 really was alive. The atmosphere was charged - vibrant. He'd like it here.

Esbrun’s stomach rumbled. Perhaps he’d visit the Commercial Sector after all.

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As he stepped into the Promenade after disembarking from the transport shuttle, Cob took a deep breath, taking in the smells and sounds of this new environment. The station, or this part of it anyway, felt a little more like home than San Francisco and the Academy had; less airy, more closed-in, noisier, and with the little hints of cooking spices, ozone, and human and alien body odors in the air that even the best filters and scrubbers couldn't entirely eliminate from a closed environment. He decided he'd do the same thing he'd done when he'd touched down on Earth for the first time, those long four years ago: take a stroll and find a place to grab a meal, in whichever order ended up being more convenient.

As it happened, the meal ended up coming first this time. Cob sat down at the counter in the restaurant, a place called 'Granny's', and ordered a plate of stew and some flatbread with sour jam from the Trill woman behind the counter. As he ate, he chatted with her about Trill cuisine, which he'd first had on Earth, and similarities between some of their dishes and some of what he'd grown up eating in the Markab Prime settlement.

As he described a Trill-run cafe he'd visited a few times in San Francisco, a young human man in a cadet's uniform that was red where Cob's was blue glanced over at Cob, then seemed to do a double-take. "Oh," the man said, "I'm sorry, if I'd realized there was another cadet here I'd have said 'hello' sooner. I'm Chadwick Dowe." He extended a hand toward Cob.

Cob reached out and shook it. "Jacob Harkrow, but call me Cob."

"Well, a pleasure to meet a fellow Starfleet up-and-comer, Cob." Chadwick cleared his throat. "And I am sorry about the whole not-noticing-the-uniform thing, it's just... well, for a Starfleet cadet you're a bit, well, larger than average, aren't you?"

Cob tried to suppress his half-smile, half grimace. At just under 1.8 meters, Cob was just a little shorter than average height for a human man. One thing he'd developed at the Academy was an allergy for euphemism; he'd have preferred it if the man had just said what he'd really meant instead of dancing around the word like it was something shameful. "You're allowed to say 'fat', Chadwick. And yep, that's how we make 'em out on Markab Prime." He patted his belly with one hand. "Famine resistant, as my uncle used to say."

"I, well, I didn't want to offend, but... yes. It's just, I've never seen a hundred-twenty kilo Starfleet cadet."

"Closer to one-thirty-five, actually," Cob said, his voice even and measured, "It's an easy mistake. But I'm fine with it, my instructors were fine with it, and Starfleet Medical seems to be fine with it, too. My vitals are all good, I was hitting 95% of the Federation Presidential Fitness Standards even before I left Markab and discovered how much easier it was to do a pull-up in only 1G, and I ran just as many laps around the Academy grounds as everyone else in my class. I wouldn't be here if I weren't every bit as good as every other cadet to make it through the Academy."

The other cadet was silent for a moment. "That," he said slowly, "sounded like something you've recited a fair few times."

Cob sighed. "I've had some practice, yeah. It's been about a year since the last time I had to break out, though. Feel a little rusty."

"Sounded all right to me," Chadwick said. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Consider me suitably chastised, and if there's anything I can do to help a fat fellow cadet out between now and the start of his cadet cruise, just let old Chadwick know."

Cob let himself smile. "I appreciate that. Thanks."

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tl;dr stats at a glance:
Name: Kayla Drex
Species: Human
Age: 23 Earth years
Gender: Female
Orientation: bisexual
Origin: Inlet, New York, Earth (Adirondack Mountains region)
Height: 160 cm (5' 3")
Hair: light brown, usually pulled back into a short ponytail
Build: runner's build, clearly athletic
Desired Duty: Science, Temporal and Quantum research and practical applications development
Family:
    Father: Dr. Gulliver Drex, quantum theoretical physicist
    Mother: Leanna Marsh-Drex, artist (paint, sculpture)
    Siblings: 4 older brothers (from oldest: Braden, Phillip, Michael, David)
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Holy cow, this place is bigger than I thought, Kayla thought as she stepped from the shuttle onto Starbase 118. She took a steadying breath, ran a hand over her light brown hair to make sure her short ponytail was still within regulation guidelines, and tried her hardest to make 160 cm look tall. Since she was 10 years old - 13 years ago, this is what she wanted: to be aboard a starbase, destined for a ship where she could pursue her ambitions of developing a way to visually represent intangible phenomena.
    "Hey, can you pick a side?" A voice from behind Kayla snapped her out of her reflections.
    "What? Oh, I'm sorry," Kayla blushed as she stepped aside allowing an Andorian engineer to pass. She hated being in the way. It meant she wasn't contributing to the situation. She hitched up her bag on her shoulder and set off down the corridor.
    Having some time to kill, Kayla decided to check out the main dome. She'd only seen the promo materials, and was anxious to see it first-hand. On the way however, she couldn't help looking over the shoulder of an ensign who was having particular difficulty with his tricorder.
    "This stupid thing," the ensign muttered under his breath. "WHY can't they just make a setting that checks for decay rate and energy flow?"
    "It's because they're running in contradicting flows. If you isolate the readout to the net flow, then account for decay, you'll get the same result." The words were out of her mouth before she realized she was speaking.
    The blank look the ensign gave her was one of complete surprise.
    "Sorry, never mind," Kayla blurted and walked quickly away. Around a bend, and about 10 meters on, she found an alcove into which she slumped. Her face still burned with embarrassment. She'd been on the station less than ten minutes, and already made a fool of herself in front of two officers.
    "Excuse me?"
    Kayla looked up. The ensign from before was standing there looking down at her. His tricorder still in hand. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have butted in I-"
    "No, I came to thank you," the ensign interrupted. "You just saved my butt. That would've taken me the better part of the morning to do manually."
    "Oh ... um, no problem." Kayla stood up from the floor where she was sitting.
    "I'm Brandon, by the way."
    "Kayla. Kayla Drex." She shook the ensign's proffered hand.
    "This your first time on 118?"
    "On any starbase actually. I've spent most of my life on Earth."
    "Oh man. You're in for some good times. See you 'round, Kayla Drex, and thanks again."

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Iza was tired after the shuttle trip.  He ran his hand through his short black hair and sighed.  He decided that all he wanted to do was get a nap in.  After that he would try to eat and work out.  He ran

He arrived in his room but couldn't sleep.  He's too excited to sleep.  After laying there for half an hour he decided to go work out.  After a little searching he found the gym.  Along the way he met a few other cadets and they exchanged nods or pleasantries.  While working out he thought about his upcoming assignment.  A mix of excitement and nervousness.  Would he be good enough?  Self-doubt has always been a problem for Iza but he has always surprised himself.  Hopefully that streak continues.

After his workout he ate and finally felt like he could sleep.  He made his way back to his quarters and immediately collapsed in to the bed and passed out.

Name: Jicheld Iza
Species: Bajoran
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Origin: Jalanda City, Bajor
Height: 180 cm (5' 11")
Hair: black and wiry.  He keeps it short but long enough on top to style it.
Build: athletic, work's out regularly
Desired Duty: Security
Family: Father: Jicheld Zapas, Cafe owner and proprietor
    Mother: Jicheld Inea, Barrister
    Only child

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Ah, this is more like it, Tommy stretched a bit, stepping into the Commercial District.  The hustle and bustle felt more like home than the Academy ever had, reminding him of the Southside Territory back on Sigma Iotia II.  There's gotta be a place with some good gabbagool or pasta vasul' here.  He set off to find a map to point him to some food.  Too little time to learn what all these shop names were, he found himself quickly at a Replimat eating something that passed for baked ziti.  It wasn't so bad, as far as Replimat food goes.  Two hours before he had to set off, not enough time to check the action around here, Tommy decided instead to visit his quarters for his stay, stow away his gear, and send a message off to his Ma.

His tall, slender frame was often at odds with these cramped crew quarters, leaving him laying with his head at a funny angle as he waited.  The waiting was the worst.  His eyes glanced across his PADD, brushing up on his training in his boredom.  Check the time again, about 30 minutes, time to get rolling.  The display dimmed, his olive complexion staring him back in the eye.  Let's get it done, Tommy-boy.

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  • Full name: Oriana Whedon

  • Date of birth (Age): 23

  • Species: Human

  • Gender: Female

  • Hair color: Red

  • Eye color: Green

  • Height: 5’8

FAMILY:

  • Parents: Keri Whedon (Deceased) Jack Whedon (Alive, living in San Francisco)

  • Siblings: None

  • Spouse: None

  • Children: None

 

Oriana’s eyes narrowed as she looked down the scope of her phaser rifle and her feet slowly carried the woman forward. A bead of sweat was threatening to drop down the side of her head as she inched her way forward down the corridor complete with ominous red flashing lights. The red-headed woman couldn’t afford to look behind her and at her already fallen comrades, she had something to do. Her tongue came out and flicked against her top lip, temporarily smoothing out her cracked lip as she slowly continued to move forward. The woman stopped halfway in the corridor and her ears perked up as she heard something down the corridor. Her eyes narrowed and she watched the door at the end of the corridor carefully. Her stomach had become a ball of knots as she knew something was happening. Looking from side to side, the red-headed woman knew that she didn’t exactly have much cover here and if the Klingons were going to appear down the corridor, she’d need to be laser sharp and her aim would have to be true.

 

The doors rolled open and the red bolts of Klingon disruptors filled the hallway. Oriana dropped to a prone position and instantly brought her own rifle up to return fire. The butt of her rifle came up to her shoulder and the viewscope was already up so she was going to be able to take them down. Moving from left to right, Oriana squeezed the trigger three times, short bursts came from the tip of the rifle and hit against the three Klingons in the middle of the chest, their shoulders and then one last shot in the stomach of the last one. Moving the scope from the left to the right, she furrowed her brow and slowly made her way up to a kneeling position. Her eyes looked over the corridor and the knot in her stomach seemed to get just a little bit tighter. Moving up to a standing position, Oriana started to move forward, her memory was clear on the layout of the Bird of Prey the away team had boarded and she knew she was two doors away from the bridge and accomplishing the task. Bringing her rifle down, she wiped at her forehead with the back of her uniformed sleeve before bringing the rifle back up to a suitable firing position.

 

Walking up to the door, Oriana pressed her hand against the door and had her rifle up and ready to fire. The doors rolled open and Oriana walked forward. There was nothing in this corridor either and it was even shorter. Sighing softly, Oriana winked a bead of sweat out of her vision and moved forward another quick couple of steps. Her feet seemed so much heavier on the grated flooring of the Klingon vessel and with every step on the floor, Oriana could hear her heart beating louder and louder in her own mind. Moving up to the final door, Oriana hit the panel with the bottom of her fist and as the door opened, a volley of disruptor bolts rained down on the inside of the corridor. Oriana was quick to move though, ducking into the inside of the corridor and hiding just behind the bulkhead. Bringing her phaser up and poking the rifle on the outside, Oriana squeezed her finger against the trigger and started to blindly fire into the bridge. Hearing at least one go down, Oriana poked her head out of cover briefly hoping to find somewhere for her to rush to. There was a computer panel which had already exploded during the earlier scrap with her own starship and she knew she could use that as a decent firing position. Moving down to a crouching position, Oriana rushed forward, sprinting as best as she could do while crouched down and then she slid along the floor before she found herself relatively safe. Lifting her head up over the edge of the panel, Oriana counted at least four more Klingons left.

 

“Federation dog! Your bodies will be strapped to my hull!” The Captain of the Klingon vessel called out to her as she bit down on her bottom lip and then threw her body up. Standing up with her lower body obscured by the destroyed panel, Oriana launched three phaser bolts, taking down the three other Klingons but left the Captain alone. Dropping down to cover, she called out to him.

 

“Captain, surrender and we can accept you as a prisoner of war. The Federation will treat you very well in exchange for information on the Klingon Empire.”

 

“Ha! Pitiful-” The Captain didn’t have chance to finish his thoughts as Oriana appeared mid-sentence and blasted the Captain clean between the eyes. Watching the last Klingon go down, Oriana took a deep breath of air and stood up straight as the details of the Bird of Prey faded away and she was greeted to the usual cubes of the Starfleet Academy holodeck. Biting down on her bottom lip, Oriana turned around and looked over to her training instructor, a Vulcan male called Volok, who slowly walked over to her, his eyes burning into her soul as he stepped over to her.

 

“Cadet Whedon, another impressive test.”

 

“Thank you Sir.” The Cadet said, nodding her head and still standing to attention.

 

“At ease Cadet.” Volok paused for a moment before continuing. “What do I need to say to make you stop taking these tests?”

 

“I… I need to be in the top five percent Sir.”

 

Volok studied the human woman. Stars, sometimes she hated being graded by a Vulcan! Oriana believed in the egalitarian views of Starfleet but with those Vulcans… They were just impossible to tell what they were thinking! Volok looked her up and down before shaking his head.

 

“You achieved 93.9%. When O’Reily and Kim went down, you failed to see the original attacker to instantly return fire.”

 

Damn it… DAMN IT! Oriana cursed to herself before nodding her head. “I understand Sir.”

 

“Return to your dormitories Cadet. Overthinking this will not be beneficial so close to the end of your time here.” Volok said, nodding his head before turning to leave the woman alone. Oriana watched the man walk away and every single bad thought she had gone through when she was filling out the Starfleet application form came back. Could she really beat her mother’s record? Rubbing at the back of her neck, Oriana collected herself and left the holodeck. Walking the long way round and back to her dormitory, she saw her roommate, a female Andorian, Shar, who was training in the medical field popped her blue head over the edge of the bed with a big smile on her face.

 

“How’d it go!?” She enquired eagerly.

 

Oriana didn’t answer.

 

Instead she walked over to her bed and brought her right foot up. Unzipping her long boot, she mirrored the movement by lifting her left foot up and unzipping the other boot. Placing them down on the side of the bed, Oriana looked at her bare feet and then at her boots before she picked them up and threw them clean across the room in frustration.

 

“That good huh?”

 

“Just… Maybe later Shar okay?” Oriana sighed, wriggling herself up onto the bed and grabbing her pillow and throwing it on her face. Staring at the vast expanse of her Starfleet pillow, a voice message came into her dorm room from her combadge. Lifting her pillow up, Oriana’s ears perked up.

 

“Cadet Whedon report to the shuttle bays for assignment to Starbase 118.”

 

That made the red-headed woman bolt upright in bed as Shar leapt off of her own bed as well. The two women eagerly exchanged a hug before Oriana snapped into business. Grabbing a fresh pair of tights, Oriana was quick to dress herself before slipping her boots back on and grabbing a very small travel pack of her clothing and some toiletries as well. Hoisting the back up over her shoulder, the red-headed Cadet was positively bounding down the hallway and over towards the shuttle bays when she saw a familiar face.

 

“Ah, Cadet Whedon, I had hoped to see you before you left.” Volok nodded his head briefly, looking her over, he seemed to measure his words before he spoke again. “I am sure that your mother would be proud of you.” The Vulcan then brought his hand up in the traditional salute. “Live long and prosper Cadet, I look forward to hearing about you.”

 

And with that, Oriana Whedon felt like she could personally arm wrestle a Gorn. Walking down the halls to the shuttle bays, Oriana was soon sitting on a shuttlebay and looking at the inside of it with all manner of equally nervous cadets who were going to be everywhere in Starfleet. Looking over at the faces inside of the shuttle, she had to wonder whether there was going to be anyone who she would be serving with. Nervously drumming her index fingers against her knee, Oriana looked out of the windows of the small shuttle and watched as the stars whizzed past them until the large blob of metal, Starbase 118 appeared on the port side. With barely any sort of notion that the shuttle was even changing direction, the Starbase slowly rolled away from the window.

 

The shuttle had soon slipped through the gravitational field of the Starbase and the shuttle had docked. Oriana checked in with the necessary people and she soon found herself just looking up at the details of the Starbase. She still had that knot in her stomach but right now? That knot was going to be very fun to undo though, and as the cadet walked forward, she felt like she was walking on air.

Edited by Oriana Whedon
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Name: Maddi Hyden
Species: Human
Age: 22 Earth years
Gender: Female
Origin: Glencoe Scotland 
Height: (5' 6")
Hair: Black with Brown Highlights
Build: Athletic
Desired Duty: Security, Head of Security on a Starship. Command of a ship (future goal)
Family:
    Father: Dr. Haytham Hyden, Head Warp Core Theorist (Utopia Shipyards) 
    Mother: Joyce-Ann Hyden, composer

Siblings:

Sister: Joanne Hyden, Temporal Operative

 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Maddi had been waiting for this day for months she was finally getting to step foot on Starbase 118, as her feet touched the stations surface she felt a change in the atmosphere. The station had a different feel from most starbases she had visited it seemed more inviting then most, but she knew regardless her training class started the next day she was excited to see who she would meet, but she was exhausted from the trip here so she found sleeping quarters and immediatly fell asleep. 

She would meet others soon and hopefully make friends, but she knew she needed sleep, as her class commenced the next day.

 

 

 

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Hugh Hunter
5'9"
Mixed heritage (half human, half El-Aurian)

Stocky build, black hair, brown eyes, mocha skin. Cheeky grin almost permanently fixed to his face.

Hugh was finally ready. He'd done his research, made friends with the right people (senior classmates who could give him an inside scoop), and mentally rehearsed dozens of just in case scenarios. He was ready for his cadet cruise. But more importantly he was ready to become a part of galaxy proper. Hugh had spent so many years watching from the side-lines, not wanting to get too involved, or give too much of himself away. But all those years had told him that he had a lot more to offer. He knew there's always be a reckless streak in him, but he now knew he could tame that energy and channel it to something productive. Well...at least he could when his cadet cruise actually started. For now he'd be indulging that streak looking for a poker table or dabo wheel, as tomorrow was always a new day.

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Calling occupants/of interplanetary craft

He had no idea how, but somehow Quentin had timed it just so that the song he had flooding into his ears via the smartfoam listening devices he had somehow convinced the dock's duty officer to let him keep on the outbound flight from San Francisco echoed through his head when he saw it for the first time. Starbase 118. The transport runabout dropped out of warp just so that the sun caught it just so through the nebula, sharpening the light from it into a perfect diamond halo around her gleaming exterior. Quentin sheepishly smiled to himself as the runabout glided closer to the base, weaving through the stars and busy space traffic throughout the sector.

He also allowed himself a bit of pride for gabbing the duty officer just so to allow himself this moment. Giving up his rucksack of personal items from the Academy for flight storage was bad enough, but when the officer held out his hand for the buds and the data strip they were synced to Quentin found himself, embarrassingly, recoiling. He also felt his cheeks turn into ruddy hot patches as he realized that his stocky frame and lanky limbs, stood almost full two head taller than the officer. His family always said that he was their "scarecrow" and he really felt it in the moment. His awkwardly large frame was something his mother said he would grow into but that was just one of her many lies. But then he started instinctively to speak, eloquently laying out a study that he had read right before reporting that detailed the positive effects that sonic waves had on the nervous system mid-space flight, which also tested higher during trips on smaller classed craft and mass transports. The officer took one look at the deep blue stripe on his uniform and the awkward smile Quentin ended the lecture with and nodded him onto the transport with an exasperated huff. Who didn't love a small victory?

Especially one that turned into a bigger one. The shuttle carefully docked and Quentin felt the craft couple into the docking brackets with a gentle shudder. He heard a muffled ding through the soothing pulse of ancient synthesizers and an equally muffled soothing sounding voice. He observed the rest of the cadets and passengers react to the surely reassuring instructions and followed suit, standing, adjusting his uniform, and disembarking into the life he had waited so long to start. Quentin found himself instantly impressed. With everything. Even something so simple as how organized and smoothly the dock ran. After receiving his assignment, he naturally poured over the service record of the base and fleet associated with it. This base produced war heroes, innovators, explorers, and now a Collins was walking it's decks. A bolt of anxiety cracked his chest, but he had worked hard for this. He was ready. Ready for answers and ready to serve. That was all he ever wanted, really. And now he would get that chance, here and now.

He consulted the PADD that the L.T. escorting them had passed out as they left the Sol System. It had a full information bank on the base and it's facilities, as well as a personalized notification about his training schedule. He had a few hours still until he had to report so he decided to try and wander a touch, in order too acclimate himself to his new posting. Walking always helped him clear his head back in Maine, why shouldn't it do the same thousands of lightyears away? He decided to start at the famous Node so he eyed the nearest turbolift and started off in that direction. He extracted the listening devices from his ears and was met with the wondrous and busy sound of a working station. The gentle hum of the astrometrics. The constant drone of officers. And best of all? The occasional streak of sound that comes from impulse engines, either from the ships outside or lazily zooming throughout the space. Quentin grinned again. He was surrounded by ships again. A far cry from his family's fishing fleets back in Maine, but it would do just nicely for Quentin. This was precisely what he signed up for.

He settled into the lift and consulted the PADD once again. As he cleared his throat to speak the deck he desired a booming voice echoed through the plasteel chamber. "HOLD THE LIFT!", the voice said and Quentin instinctively reached out with the arm grasping the PADD, holding the door. A lean, handsome Andorian slipped into the lift with a huff. They made eye contact briefly, the alien's eyes expressing a silent gratitude as he composed himself. Quentin tried to silently recipricate the gratitude, but just found himself awkwardly smiling. He had noticed the officer's rank, Lt. CMMD, and felt himself lock back into cadet mode. Again he had to remind himself, he belonged here. He had the degrees to show for it, but this might be something he would just have to shake throughout his training.

"Thank you, cadet. I hadn't had the best luck with lifts before you.", the Andorian said in a stately but good natured voice. Quentin gave a slight laugh, trying to brush his probably not regulation coppery blonde hair out of his face. "Well, had I seen the pips, you would have gotten a salute along with it.", he returned, trying to sound charming, despite his heavy Maine accent. But the Andorian EL TEE scoffed at his attempt, either out of pity or genuine amusement. Quentin couldn't really tell but he would take it either way. "I'll hold you to that cadet. Computer: Deck 456." He said in a pointedly authoritarian voice and the lift sped upward. 

Quentin quickly quit while he was ahead and buried his nose back into the PADD, attempting to make his awkward frame blend into the side of the compartment. Thankfully the officer seemed to notice his nervousness and allowed them to ride in comfortable, but edged silence. Quentin was suddenly very aware of his vulnerability and his possibly unkept look. His uniform still fit well, but his longish hair and, frankly, older age suddenly cropped to the front of his thoughts. The lift suddenly stopped as the pit started to form in his stomach. The men both stepped out into the Node and exchanged quick glances. "Good luck, cadet." the Andorian offered, scuttling off before Quentin could muster a reply.  

His surroundings did nothing to alleviate his rising stress. All around him walked young and beautiful cadets of all species. All of them in the prime of their lives and ready to take Starfleet by storm. And there was Quentin. It was his own fault really. Instead of entering the Academy at the proper age of 18, he caved to his family's wishes and matriculated at Salem University first, studying parapsychology, metaphysics, and classics, earning a degree in the former. Anything to make mother happy, of course. He then took his year on the sea, fishing for his family and experiencing the very thing that spurred him into Starfleet in the first place. He still remembers the looks he got from his classmates, this old wingnut from the coast, thinking he can hack it, and as a SCIENTIST no less. The crueler ones had made their contempt more explicit, tagging his locker with things like "Warlock" and "Creepy Collins" while also sneering as his more antiquated look at the sciences and the world around them. 

And now he was here, pushing 30 and looking at a whole generation of younger cadets ready to eclipse him and his upbringing. He approached one of the massive viewports, facing raw space. He had worked so hard to get here. And so had they. But his age didn't lessen his need for understanding. It didn't out on the sea when he faced the unknown and felt it acknowledge him and it wouldn't now. Not when he was among the stars and so many unknowns. He felt himself relax, even smile a bit. They sneered at Creepy Collins but he was still here. And he was going to make the most of it. For himself and his new crew. No matter what.      

       

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On 11/29/2018 at 10:06 PM, Quentin Collins III said:

Calling occupants/of interplanetary craft

He had no idea how, but somehow Quentin had timed it just so that the song he had flooding into his ears via the smartfoam listening devices he had somehow convinced the dock's duty officer to let him keep on the outbound flight from San Francisco echoed through his head when he saw it for the first time. Starbase 118. The transport runabout dropped out of warp just so that the sun caught it just so through the nebula, sharpening the light from it into a perfect diamond halo around her gleaming exterior. Quentin sheepishly smiled to himself as the runabout glided closer to the base, weaving through the stars and busy space traffic throughout the sector.

He also allowed himself a bit of pride for gabbing the duty officer just so to allow himself this moment. Giving up his rucksack of personal items from the Academy for flight storage was bad enough, but when the officer held out his hand for the buds and the data strip they were synced to Quentin found himself, embarrassingly, recoiling. He also felt his cheeks turn into ruddy hot patches as he realized that his stocky frame and lanky limbs, stood almost full two head taller than the officer. His family always said that he was their "scarecrow" and he really felt it in the moment. His awkwardly large frame was something his mother said he would grow into but that was just one of her many lies. But then he started instinctively to speak, eloquently laying out a study that he had read right before reporting that detailed the positive effects that sonic waves had on the nervous system mid-space flight, which also tested higher during trips on smaller classed craft and mass transports. The officer took one look at the deep blue stripe on his uniform and the awkward smile Quentin ended the lecture with and nodded him onto the transport with an exasperated huff. Who didn't love a small victory?

Especially one that turned into a bigger one. The shuttle carefully docked and Quentin felt the craft couple into the docking brackets with a gentle shudder. He heard a muffled ding through the soothing pulse of ancient synthesizers and an equally muffled soothing sounding voice. He observed the rest of the cadets and passengers react to the surely reassuring instructions and followed suit, standing, adjusting his uniform, and disembarking into the life he had waited so long to start. Quentin found himself instantly impressed. With everything. Even something so simple as how organized and smoothly the dock ran. After receiving his assignment, he naturally poured over the service record of the base and fleet associated with it. This base produced war heroes, innovators, explorers, and now a Collins was walking it's decks. A bolt of anxiety cracked his chest, but he had worked hard for this. He was ready. Ready for answers and ready to serve. That was all he ever wanted, really. And now he would get that chance, here and now.

He consulted the PADD that the L.T. escorting them had passed out as they left the Sol System. It had a full information bank on the base and it's facilities, as well as a personalized notification about his training schedule. He had a few hours still until he had to report so he decided to try and wander a touch, in order too acclimate himself to his new posting. Walking always helped him clear his head back in Maine, why shouldn't it do the same thousands of lightyears away? He decided to start at the famous Node so he eyed the nearest turbolift and started off in that direction. He extracted the listening devices from his ears and was met with the wondrous and busy sound of a working station. The gentle hum of the astrometrics. The constant drone of officers. And best of all? The occasional streak of sound that comes from impulse engines, either from the ships outside or lazily zooming throughout the space. Quentin grinned again. He was surrounded by ships again. A far cry from his family's fishing fleets back in Maine, but it would do just nicely for Quentin. This was precisely what he signed up for.

He settled into the lift and consulted the PADD once again. As he cleared his throat to speak the deck he desired a booming voice echoed through the plasteel chamber. "HOLD THE LIFT!", the voice said and Quentin instinctively reached out with the arm grasping the PADD, holding the door. A lean, handsome Andorian slipped into the lift with a huff. They made eye contact briefly, the alien's eyes expressing a silent gratitude as he composed himself. Quentin tried to silently recipricate the gratitude, but just found himself awkwardly smiling. He had noticed the officer's rank, Lt. CMMD, and felt himself lock back into cadet mode. Again he had to remind himself, he belonged here. He had the degrees to show for it, but this might be something he would just have to shake throughout his training.

"Thank you, cadet. I hadn't had the best luck with lifts before you.", the Andorian said in a stately but good natured voice. Quentin gave a slight laugh, trying to brush his probably not regulation coppery blonde hair out of his face. "Well, had I seen the pips, you would have gotten a salute along with it.", he returned, trying to sound charming, despite his heavy Maine accent. But the Andorian EL TEE scoffed at his attempt, either out of pity or genuine amusement. Quentin couldn't really tell but he would take it either way. "I'll hold you to that cadet. Computer: Deck 456." He said in a pointedly authoritarian voice and the lift sped upward. 

Quentin quickly quit while he was ahead and buried his nose back into the PADD, attempting to make his awkward frame blend into the side of the compartment. Thankfully the officer seemed to notice his nervousness and allowed them to ride in comfortable, but edged silence. Quentin was suddenly very aware of his vulnerability and his possibly unkept look. His uniform still fit well, but his longish hair and, frankly, older age suddenly cropped to the front of his thoughts. The lift suddenly stopped as the pit started to form in his stomach. The men both stepped out into the Node and exchanged quick glances. "Good luck, cadet." the Andorian offered, scuttling off before Quentin could muster a reply.  

His surroundings did nothing to alleviate his rising stress. All around him walked young and beautiful cadets of all species. All of them in the prime of their lives and ready to take Starfleet by storm. And there was Quentin. It was his own fault really. Instead of entering the Academy at the proper age of 18, he caved to his family's wishes and matriculated at Salem University first, studying parapsychology, metaphysics, and classics, earning a degree in the former. Anything to make mother happy, of course. He then took his year on the sea, fishing for his family and experiencing the very thing that spurred him into Starfleet in the first place. He still remembers the looks he got from his classmates, this old wingnut from the coast, thinking he can hack it, and as a SCIENTIST no less. The crueler ones had made their contempt more explicit, tagging his locker with things like "Warlock" and "Creepy Collins" while also sneering as his more antiquated look at the sciences and the world around them. 

And now he was here, pushing 30 and looking at a whole generation of younger cadets ready to eclipse him and his upbringing. He approached one of the massive viewports, facing raw space. He had worked so hard to get here. And so had they. But his age didn't lessen his need for understanding. It didn't out on the sea when he faced the unknown and felt it acknowledge him and it wouldn't now. Not when he was among the stars and so many unknowns. He felt himself relax, even smile a bit. They sneered at Creepy Collins but he was still here. And he was going to make the most of it. For himself and his new crew. No matter what.      

       

Final finished reading this and I love it. Your description and detail is perfect, I could clearly understand who Collins' is as a person; he seems very real. Good job. 

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13 hours ago, Beelam Grog said:

Final finished reading this and I love it. Your description and detail is perfect, I could clearly understand who Collins' is as a person; he seems very real. Good job. 

You just made my MONTH @Beelam Grog! Thank you so so much for saying. 

Edited by Quentin Collins III
Forgot to tag crewmate.
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Evelyn sat up straight in her seat as the shuttle made its seemingly long approach to the Starbase 118 spacedock. The approach took roughly five minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. She was so excited to get on with her cadet cruise, and be assigned her first duty station, that the slow pace of the shuttle seemed to take an eternity. Evelyn watched from the viewport as the opening into the massive chasm grew more vast, taking in every detail of the Starbase. She could see the command towers, which were quickly receding from her view as the shuttle closed on its destination.

Evelyn Rós was a Cygnian from Cygnet XIV. She had light brown hair that framed the creamy skin of her round face, offset by her dark green eyes, that were slotted like a cat's. She had pale freckles over the bridge of her nose, which was small and impish. Her ears, which Evelyn herself didn't care for, were a bit large, and stuck out from beneath her hair. Her lips were plump with no adornment, and ended in very small dimples. Her frame was lithe, her arms slightly short for a humanoid, but this was hard to tell due to her height, which was somewhat shorter than the average Cygnian. She was used to looking up at most people, and it didn't bother her that she wasn't very strong. Evelyn was sure-footed, no doubt because of the extra balance provided by her thin tail, and was quick and agile, which was helpful in her physical training during the Academy.

For four years now, Evelyn had waited, sometimes not so patiently, for this moment. More importantly, for the next step, when she would be assigned to a starship. She wanted to seek out new discoveries on the edges of space, and help to increase the knowledge of all peoples of the Federation. The small fear that she would be assigned to a station instead of a ship throbbed in the back of her mind, but she quieted it. She would worry about that once she finished her cadet cruise.

The cadet who sat next to her, a Benzite female in a yellow uniform, leaned over toward Evelyn.

“What Academy are you coming from?” She asked.

“Earth.” Evelyn replied happily.

“Are you not Cygnian?” The Benzite asked.

Evelyn was used to being recognized as a Cygnian, and quickly. It was probably because of her tail. She was also used to the questioning attitude that some people took when she told them that she attended Stafleet Academy on Earth. There were much closer campuses than the San Francisco location.

“I am, but I spent some time in the Sol system as a child, and I requested to go to the Earth campus.”

“Ah. Are you in the medical field?” The curious cadet asked.

“No, no. I never had the passion for healthcare, I'm in sciences. What about you?” Evelyn said.

“I am an engineer.” The Benzite said simply, in her formal way. Most Benzites seemed to have the same strangeness when it came to speaking with people, like they were almost apologetic for each question. Evelyn paid it no mind. She didn't mind talking to the cadet, but her mind wasn't in the conversation. She was focused on what she was going to do while she waited for her next test to start.

“Look, we're landing!” Evelyn said, excitedly. The shuttle didn't so much land, as it connected with the docking tunnel, which provided the ingress path to the station. She listened to the pilot speaking with the station authorities, and watched as the pilot looked over the panels of his station. Of course, he wasn't controlling the shuttle at this point, the station was guiding the shuttle now.

Within moments, the pilot stood, and gave them them the “OK,” to disembark. Evelyn almost jumped to her feet, her tail brushing against the Benzite as she turned to gather her pack, and had to restrain herself from running to the exit. She turned back to the other cadet who was quickly falling behind, and waved. “Nice meeting you.”

Evelyn was almost bursting to see Starbase 118's top of the line science facilities. She wanted to see the stellar cartography holodisplay, which was supposed to be three decks in size. She wanted to observe the astrogeology labs and study the robotics lab. Most importantly, she wanted to get her hands on the astrophysics equipment. Her hopes were dashed in moments, when she reached deck 550, and the officer at the entrance to the astrophysics lab told her she would not be authorized at this time. She had to complete her training first. It was almost as bad as being told that she was getting ejected from Starfleet.

Annoyed, Evelyn found herself wandering the Promenade of the commercial sector, impatiently waiting for the cruise to start. She didn't want to waste time here, looking at tourist attractions. She wanted to immerse herself in the day to day activities of the Starfleet officers who were stationed here, and learn something during her wait. Evelyn's tail whipped left and right as she walked in irritation. Absentmindedly, Evelyn stepped into a bar she found called Keal's Pub. She ordered a Saurian Brandy and sulked in her seat at the bar.

She just wanted to get out there, into the blackness of space.

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