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FltAdml. Wolf

official Arrival at StarBase 118 - introduce your character here!

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Hi Udas!,

My name is Jimm. I sim as Ensign Suvi Ila on the Apollo. I have only been here about two weeks.

Welcome. Hope you enjoy yourself.

Jim

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Arrival at Star Base 118

Aurora smiled and looked around, proud to have made it this far with high marks. Her mother would have been proud. Aurora had only seen photos of her mother, but she was certain that she was her mother’s spitting image at twenty five. Aurora’s chest length, wavy, red hair was held behind her head in a perfect, dead center bun framing her pale face that glowed with her intense green eyes hiding the pain of her father’s recent death. Despite recent events, she held her head high and was excited to be taking the final steps to being a Starfleet officer like her mother before her.

Aurora had been a busy and dedicated student right up to this day, a triple major in Counseling, Tactical, and Science specializing in both Sociology and Linguistics. She didn’t know what lay before her, but she knew she was ready for anything and everything. She let her mind wander a little about what life would be like now that she was an orphan and about to take the biggest step of her life with no one to share it with. In her daze, Aurora dropped her bag onto the foot of a Cadet going another direction.

“Dammit! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” She asked the young male Cadet as she reached down for her duffle bag.

“I’m fine really; it’s not a big deal. Here, let me get that.” Said the Cadet as he picked her bag up for her and handed it back. “I’d stay for a chat, but I’m late for a briefing, good luck.” The Cadet said as he smiled and started walking away, glancing one last time over his shoulder just in time to see Aurora smiling and nodding in thanks.

Aurora thought to herself, “Well that was a not so great first impression; he must think I’m a ditz. I just hope I do a better job impressing my COs than that. Mom, this is for you. Here goes nothing!” Aurora smiled confidently as she walked forward through the doors to her future.

Cadet Aurora James

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Jack Corbin stood up from his bent position as he stepped out from the shuttle onto the docking bay of the star base. He then stretched out his large 6'6" frame and let out a long loud yawn that made the other cadets look at him a bit funny.

He smiled joyfully at them. Probably 15 years their senior already having practiced as a doctor back on earth for a number of years he was fun loving, friendly and easy going.

He straightened out his uniform tugging at the sleeves which was in perfect order. He then scanned the docking bay noting exits, signs, the cadets. One which was clearly sick from the flight. Another so nervous they probably were going to need to change their pants.

Chuckling he grabs the young cadet that was closest to him. A female Vulcan. Who's shocked face could not be helped as his large arms started dragging her down the gangplank. "So Yankee have I told you about the time I had to wrestle a gator to get to a patient?"

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Makoto looked around the shuttle at the other cadets a mixture of nervous excitement filled the air. The cadet next to him looked as if he was ready to loose his lunch and a young Ferengi across from him was about vibrating out of his seat. Makoto smiled his light blue grey streaked eyes flashed with amusement.

A voice behind him spoke.

Cadet: “So you nervous?”

Makoto turned and looked at the Vulcan sitting behind him. He looked a little older then most of the others and the blue piping on his uniform lead him to believe the Vulcan was in medical.

Makoto: “Actually not at all I am feeling pretty excited and just ready to get this ove with. I would ask how you are feeling but I assume I would get some response about how that would be illogical since you are a Vulcan.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow as Makoto smiled at him. Before either could reply however the shuttle finished docking with the Starbase.

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Cadet Kela Ishida stepped from her refrigerated shuttle into the halls of Starbase 118 through a thin mist of condensed water vapor. Brushing a wayward strand of white hair from the blue skin of her forehead, she glanced about the bustling docking zone.

After saying farewell to the other Andorians who had shared her refrigerated shuttle on the voyage to Starbase 118, Kela slung her pack across one shoulder, instinctively making sure it wouldn't interfere with drawing the hrisal blade that adorned her hip. She then drew herself up to her full height and stode with exaggerated confidence through the crowd, hoping she would soon spot a map that would direct her to the offices of the diplomatic service so that she could check in.

Instead, though, Kela's attention was diverted by the smell of one of her favorite Earth foods, and the realization that she had been too excited to eat since the day before. Following the aroma, Kela found herself seated at a ramen bar.

"Ramen with tofu skin," she said. "Iced, with extra salt."

Perhaps the proprietor was accustomed to Andorian tastes, or perhaps Kela's enthusiasm was too apparent to resist, but he leapt into action with no hesitation, and in moments the dish was ready: noodley soup steaming around bits of ice and tofu.

"Have you just arrived on board?" asked the cook, a young Japanese man.

Kela nodded as she stirred the ice with her chopsticks. "Yes. You're my first stop."

"I'm honored," the man said, casually.

At the first taste of the soup, Kela was in heaven.

"This is wonderful," she said. "Even better than San Francisco."

He lowered his head humbly. "We have access to more exotic spices out here. The highest quality simply cannot be replicated. As I think you know, judging by your blade."

Kela raised her eyebrows and her antennae, silver eyes meeting the human's.

"Are you a connoiseur of blades, then, as well as noodles?" she asked.

He placed one hand behind his head and laughed self-consciously. "I suppose it's a bit stereotypical, but the ancient culture of my homeland interests me deeply, so - yes, I do dabble in bladesmithing as well. But I have never seen an Ishida blade in person."

Kela nodded and stood to unfasten the tough cloth belt that carried her sheathed hrisal. While Andorian and Klingon strangers invariably recognized the maker's mark of her clan, keth Idisha, on the blade's handle, it was rare knowledge among humans. After folding the belt carefully, she offered the bundle with both hands across the counter. The man reverently set it on a clean portion of the counter and drew the blade forth. He examined it in silence for a short while, then resheathed it and passed it back to Kela.

After she had refastened it and sat down, he spoke.

"It is impossible to mistake the quality of the blade, created by a people who never stopped venerating the craft even into the modern day. It truly deserves the name hrisal - 'perfect killing tool.'"

For the first time, Kela was a bit uncomfortable. To her, the hrisal was a tool for defense and an emblem of pride in family and craft. But literally, yes, the word meant 'perfect killing tool.' And though she had never used it to take a life, that was what it was designed for, ultimately. She found herself wishing that she had met a human who was enthusiastic about keth Idisha's famous stage dramas, instead.

But fighting was an inescapable part of Andorian culture, and Kela had fought her share of duels against bigots who didn't like that her birth mother was an Aenar Andorian, one of the blind 'others' from deep within the ice. Not to the death, just until their blood struck the floor of the icy arena.

It was that rigid, aggressive culture that Kela sought to escape by joining Starfleet. She looked forward to working with aliens of all kinds, meeting new life and hopefully making friends. But if Starfleet butted up against an aggressive people that understood only force, well - Kela knew how to deal with that, too.

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Joseph looked around as he took his first steps off of the shuttle, scratching his neck nervously as he noticed the flurry of movement on the landing bay, no more serene moments by his favourite lake now, at least not for a while. Taking a deep breath, he moved forwards the exit, intending to take a stroll on The Promenade, he wasn't due to report for duty at the Holodeck for another few hours, he had time to kill.

Stepping from the turbolift onto The Promenade, Joseph Morgan got his first good look at how big some of these starbases can be. There seemed to be a never ending stream of people around, from races that he knew in Starfleet Uniforms to merchants and civilians of races that he just couldn't quite place. This was one of the best things about being in the fleet though, the never ending sense of wonder and amazement around every corner.

As he walked through the crowd, occasionally window shopping at some of the more interesting shops, Galaxy Invaders Archaic Arcade in particular grabbed his attention for a moment, Joe noticed a small Cafe, The Subspace Cafe, on his left side and, deciding that a coffee was probably a good idea, stepped through the threshold.

As soon as he walked inside that rich smell of coffee hit him, it felt comfortable, like a blanket that he always used to bring with him everywhere as a child for when he was scared or alone in a new place. Smiling confidently he walked up to the counter and spoke for the first time since his arrival. "Raktajino please my good man" he nodded to the assistant, who gave him a quizzical look but proceeded to knock up Joe's favourite coffee.

After thanking the cashier and making his way over to an empty table, Joe sat down and closed his eyes, just for a moment. It was good to sound out the noise and commotion from the station just for a moment. Sighing and lifting up his coffee cup to his lips, he took a sip. There was the unmistakable base flavour of his favourite beverage, but there was something missing, he couldn't quite place it. Noticing the cashiers worried glances in his direction, Joe couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Still perfecting the recipe?" he called in a playful voice. The cashier smiled appreciatively and seemed more at ease.

Well, thought Joe, there were bound to be some things today that weren't going to go as smoothly as the shuttle ride over, and his coffee was one of them.

Edited by JosephMorgan
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Sorry, that came out as a big blob of text without paragraph breaks for some reason. But it seems I can't edit to fix that (or the spelling of my name). I'll get the hang of it, though.

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((Reposting with the whitespace that was dropped when I first posted - admins please feel free to delete my previous two posts. Sorry to spam the thread!))

Cadet Kela Idisha stepped from her refrigerated shuttle into the halls of Starbase 118 through a thin mist of condensed water vapor. Brushing a wayward strand of white hair from the blue skin of her forehead, she glanced about the bustling docking zone.

After saying farewell to the other Andorians who had shared her refrigerated shuttle on the voyage to Starbase 118, Kela slung her pack across one shoulder, instinctively making sure it wouldn't interfere with drawing the hrisal blade that adorned her hip. She then drew herself up to her full height and stode with exaggerated confidence through the crowd, hoping she would soon spot a map that would direct her to the offices of the diplomatic service so that she could check in.

Instead, though, Kela's attention was diverted by the smell of one of her favorite Earth foods, and the realization that she had been too excited to eat since the day before. Following the aroma, Kela found herself seated at a ramen bar.

"Ramen with tofu skin," she said. "Iced, with extra salt."

Perhaps the proprietor was accustomed to Andorian tastes, or perhaps Kela's enthusiasm was too apparent to resist, but he leapt into action with no hesitation, and in moments the dish was ready: noodley soup steaming around bits of ice and tofu.

"Have you just arrived on board?" asked the cook, a young Japanese man.

Kela nodded as she stirred the ice with her chopsticks. "Yes. You're my first stop."

"I'm honored," the man said, casually.

At the first taste of the soup, Kela was in heaven.

"This is wonderful," she said. "Even better than San Francisco."

He lowered his head humbly. "We have access to more exotic spices out here. The highest quality simply cannot be replicated. As I think you know, judging by your blade."

Kela raised her eyebrows and her antennae, silver eyes meeting the human's.

"Are you a connoiseur of blades, then, as well as noodles?" she asked.

He placed one hand behind his head and laughed self-consciously. "I suppose it's a bit stereotypical, but the ancient culture of my homeland interests me deeply, so - yes, I do dabble in bladesmithing as well. But I have never seen an Idisha blade in person."

Kela nodded and stood to unfasten the tough cloth belt that carried her sheathed hrisal. While Andorian and Klingon strangers invariably recognized the maker's mark of her clan, keth Idisha, on the blade's handle, it was rare knowledge among humans. After folding the belt carefully, she offered the bundle with both hands across the counter. The man reverently set it on a clean portion of the counter and drew the blade forth. He examined it in silence for a short while, then resheathed it and passed it back to Kela.

After she had refastened it and sat down, he spoke.

"It is impossible to mistake the quality of the blade, created by a people who never stopped venerating the craft even into the modern day. It truly deserves the name hrisal - 'perfect killing tool.'"

For the first time since arriving, Kela was a bit uncomfortable. To her, the hrisal was a tool for defense and an emblem of pride in family and craft. But literally, yes, the word meant 'perfect killing tool.' And though she had never used it to take a life, that was what it was designed for, ultimately. She found herself wishing that she had met a human who was enthusiastic about keth Idisha's famous stage dramas, instead.

But fighting was an inescapable part of Andorian culture, and Kela had fought her share of duels against bigots who didn't like that her birth mother was an Aenar Andorian, one of the blind 'others' from deep within the ice. Not to the death, just until their blood struck the floor of the icy arena.

It was that rigid, aggressive culture that Kela sought to escape by joining Starfleet. She looked forward to working with aliens of all kinds, meeting new life and hopefully making friends. But if Starfleet butted up against an aggressive people that understood only force, well - Kela knew how to deal with that, too.

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((ON))

((Starbase 118, Arrival Hall))

There was always a heightened moment of anticipation building inside her when the docking clamps attached to the vessel and the lights turned off. It meant the end of another journey and another place to discover. Several Starfleet crewmen were overseeing the disembarking personnel, noting their presence on the station in the process. Kaerae stood patiently in line behind a Vulcan Lieutenant who towered over her. As most Vulcans, he seemed patient and unwilling to hurry himself through the procedure. She barely avoided groaning out loud when the officer told the starbase crewman his full name, rank, former assignment, personnel number and species. There were moments like these when she felt like correcting the man. It was quite simple to locate someone on a PADD using merely someone’s full name. The other details were merely present to ensure no confusion could occur.

Finally it was her turn. “Cadet Kaerae ap Rhys,” she said.

The crewman took the name and frowned when his PADD came up empty. She wondered if he had truly tried to type her name rather than repeating it and let the PADD sort out the spelling. “Could you spell your last name, please?”

“A-p, space, R-h-y-s,” she said. This happened to her more often, but she felt slightly embarrassed after her own reaction to the Vulcan’s earlier tardiness. “Also possibly under Price.”

Again a moment passed. “Ah, yes. Cadet Price,” he repeated her common name. “You are to report to Lieutenant Dasher as soon as possible. He has been informed of your arrival.”

“I will find him immediately,” she replied. “Thank you, crewman.”

She moved away from the queue and started up the deck she was on. She accessed a nearby wall station and located the Lieutenant a few decks down. With a station the size it was, doubtless it was crammed full of important numbers she should recall. Yet she had never really bothered to memorize them. There was always a nearby penal, computer or friendly local who could help you on your way. This time, she relied on the database, which also allowed her to locate the Lieutenant.

“Kaerae. Kaerae! Wait up!”

As she heard the call, she turned to find fellow Cadet Beatrice Taylor approaching her. Beatrice was one of those fellow cadets you would love to hate, but couldn’t. She was tall, busty and had a perfect hourglass figure. Kaerae had known girls like that in Brussel, but they had always been as dumb as a brick. Beatrice certainly wasn’t. She had graduated cúm laude from high school, added to that a bachelors in medical biology and attended the Academy when she was only twenty one. Her academy run had been spectacular. Not only had she done really well in theoretical subjects, she had a talent for engineering, flying and communication. That would be enough to make anyone jealous if she wasn’t so incredibly nice and caring. Whenever someone in class was struggling, Beatrice would come and help. When you worked together with her, she would adapt to your work ethic and do her share. Cadets who fell ill would get a personal ‘get well’ card and she would make sure she sent the notes she made during class. All of this came from a core of complete selflessness and she never expected anything in return. So Kaerae could only smile when Beatrice caught up to her.

“Do you also need to report to Lieutenant Dasher?” Beatrice asked.

“I do,” Kaerae said. “I have located them three decks down from us.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Beatrice smiled. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you on the way down.”

“Of course not,” Kaerae said and they moved together to the turbolift.

If Kaerae’s instincts were right (and they usually were), Lieutenant Dasher looked very much like one of those officers who felt promotions and fame should have fallen their way some years ago. He was chewing his lip and surveyed the assembled cadets with a look of distain. His nails were also chewed short, he had not shaved in a few days and the first signs of grey hairs showed he was approaching at least forty years of age. The cadets kept themselves busy, waiting what would come next. Most of them were fourth years and Kaerae recognized a few of them. With Beatrice in tow, she approached the Lieutenant and saluted.

“Cadet Price and Cadet Taylor reporting, sir,” she said.

“There you are,” the Lieutenant replied. “You are late.”

“Apologies, sir,” Beatrice said with a smile that could melt titanium. “We came as soon as we were clear of the shuttle, but there was quite a queue.”

The man could not help but to smile in return. “I see. Luckily we have not started yet. You can join the others.”

Sitting together on the side of the group of cadets, Kaerae eyed some of the others. Quite a few of the men were actually peeking at Beatrice, ignoring her. So she pretended to be busy with a tangle that had come into her hair. Her companion seemed oblivious to the attention that she was getting, instead opting to start a talk with a Bolian cadet that sat next to her. It was not long before the two of them were deep in discussion about some news from a distant planet where a strange virus had broken out. None of it seemed really relevant to her current situation, so she instead focussed to see what officers were already around them. There was still a long day ahead of them.

((OFF))

Cadet Kaerae J. ap Rhys

Operations Trainee

Edited by Dennis Wilder
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Guest Frank O'Malley

Hello there!

I tried to register at the forums but I don't get the answer mail from the forums software.

Thanks in advance!

Yours

Cdt. Frank O'Malley

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Hello there!

I tried to register at the forums but I don't get the answer mail from the forums software.

Thanks in advance!

Yours

Cdt. Frank O'Malley

You should be good now!

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Thank you very much!

To introduce my character: Frank O'Malley, a young man from Ireland, joined Star Fleet just like his brother Jason. He is very interested in science but is also keen in security things like weapons and tactical strategies in ground battle.

To introduce myself: I´m 35, live in Vienna, Austria and I´m a fan of Star Trek since TOS and TNG on TV.

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Slowly stepping from the transport, Kristalyn Tracee looked around. Smiling slightly, she moved along with the other passangers from the transport, straightening her new (and still uncomfortable) cadet uniform. After the still painful memories of her parents disowning her for "turning her back on them" she was very relieved that she was able to learn enough in the few weeks she had to prepare to become a cadet. If she didn't pass she would have had no where else to go.

She stopped along the corridor and set down her bag for a moment to attempt to reign in her wild waves, the bright color of fire surrounding her face as she attempted to re-braid it. She then smiled at a child passing by who was staring at her. No doubt the child was staring at Kristalyn's eyes, for they were such a bright green that it was almost like they glowed. In fact; her eyes did seem to glow like a cat's when there was little light. It often got her some very strange looks, as she was fully human, but she was used to it.

Picking up her bag once again, she walked along the corridor, attempting to find where she was supposed to go, looking along the crowd. She could see many other cadets in the far distance, noting the insigneas on their shirts. Most people would not have been able to see that detail at this distance, but her genetic "deformity" gave her an edge. With that and her ability to memorize things faster than most it helped her in many situations.

All she could hope for, though, was that she wasn't looked at as a freak. Her life in a house that was forever stuck in the early twenty-first century made her feel like a freak enough.

She quickly moved through the crowd, hoping to catch up to the other cadets... hoping she wouldn't be playing catch up for her whole life.

Facts on Kristalyn Tracee:

Age: 28

Hometown: Fergus Falls, MN, Earth

Race: Human

Hair color: Bright Red

Eye color: Bright Green

Height: 167.6 cm (5ft 6in)

Special atributes: naturally inhanced eyesight, quick memory retention/recolection

Parents: Lando and Christie Tracee; artists

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Guest Ryan King

The hiss of a broken seal brought Daniel Underwood mind back to reality. He had only been standing in front of the hatch for five minutes. But the glass in front of him had caught his attention. There was nothing new about his reflection. Disheveled, thick dark brown hair crowned his head. A strong, pointed German nose, a biological gift from his fathers ancestors and a square-set jaw line. His face barely betrayed the fact that he was nearly about to turn 30. Most folks that met him barely thought he was in his second year at the Academy; let alone about to graduate.

Daniel yawned quietly. He felt as though his mind had atrophied on the brief ride to Starbase 118. He hadn't flown so much as a holodeck simulation in two days and he hated not being in control of his own course -- whether it be in life, or on a starship. Daniel reached down and grabbed his small bag, hanging it quietly over his right shoulder and placing his right hand on it to keep it firmly pressed against his side. He'd already gotten the side-eye from an elderly Andorian for accidentally bumping into her with it and hoped to avoid a similar altercation. Though he was known for his lack of patience, he had even less patience for testy old ladies, no matter their species.

The great huddle of people -- around 50 in all -- gently moved as a great lumbering mob as the passengers disembarked from the transport. Daniel weaved around a little to try and get a better view of the area. Luck was not on his side though; three six-foot Klingons formed a pungent wall in front of him. "Thank God I didn't sit next to them." He thought aloud, a slight southern drawl escaping his lips, and then winced.

Daniel stood quietly and attempted to fall back a little. If the Klingons had heard that comment, he wanted to give them a little space so he could duck any knives being thrown at him. Fortunately for Daniel, the Klingons didn't seem to hear the petite 5'6" Human and proceeded on their way. Heaving a sigh of relief, Daniel moved further from the airlock and into the Starbase proper. "Here we go." He thought, keeping his mouth firmly shut this time.

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The hiss of a broken seal brought Daniel Underwood mind back to reality. He had only been standing in front of the hatch for five minutes. But the glass in front of him had caught his attention. There was nothing new about his reflection. Disheveled, thick dark brown hair crowned his head. A strong, pointed German nose, a biological gift from his fathers ancestors and a square-set jaw line. His face barely betrayed the fact that he was nearly about to turn 30. Most folks that met him barely thought he was in his second year at the Academy; let alone about to graduate.

Daniel yawned quietly. He felt as though his mind had atrophied on the brief ride to Starbase 118. He hadn't flown so much as a holodeck simulation in two days and he hated not being in control of his own course -- whether it be in life, or on a starship. Daniel reached down and grabbed his small bag, hanging it quietly over his right shoulder and placing his right hand on it to keep it firmly pressed against his side. He'd already gotten the side-eye from an elderly Andorian for accidentally bumping into her with it and hoped to avoid a similar altercation. Though he was known for his lack of patience, he had even less patience for testy old ladies, no matter their species.

The great huddle of people -- around 50 in all -- gently moved as a great lumbering mob as the passengers disembarked from the transport. Daniel weaved around a little to try and get a better view of the area. Luck was not on his side though; three six-foot Klingons formed a pungent wall in front of him. "Thank God I didn't sit next to them." He thought aloud, a slight southern drawl escaping his lips, and then winced.

Daniel stood quietly and attempted to fall back a little. If the Klingons had heard that comment, he wanted to give them a little space so he could duck any knives being thrown at him. Fortunately for Daniel, the Klingons didn't seem to hear the petite 5'6" Human and proceeded on their way. Heaving a sigh of relief, Daniel moved further from the airlock and into the Starbase proper. "Here we go." He thought, keeping his mouth firmly shut this time.

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Stepping from the airlock to the runabout, Eileen's mood was ever apparent on her features. To describe it as "happliy apprehensive"...would be accurate if not an understatement. Brushing her thick mop of dark auburn hair back from her eyes, she took in the arrival section around her. Uncertainty outlined by a sort of familiarity she'd not felt in a while. Her eyebrows crinkled a little as she glanced around, her duffle over her shoulder as if she'd been carrying it there for quite some time. Her left hand came up before her and she made a conscious effort to exhale deeply, her hand seeming to drive the motion of the act before intaking the next breath equally as purposefully.

It felt familiar. Alive and bustling. She'd worried about that. Dodging a crewman making a beeline somewhere she nearly tripped over another kneeling over a broken down subsystem pulled from a bulkhead nearby.

Smiling awkwardly at the crewman she'd nearly stumbled over, she managed an apology and turned thankful that the doorway out of the bay was merely steps away. Nearing the portal, she shifted her duffle to her left shoulder and in nervous affectation tugged at her collar with her now free index finger. She tugged a little, feeling like the material had been constricting...threatening to choke her in that moment.

Smooth material met her finger where she still subconciously expected to feel a rank pip that'd given her such joy upon recieving. They told her not to worry about that..."So I just won't worry about it. Good luck with that, girl. What do I tell anyone that asks?" An new worry of late slipped out of her unconscious, tantalizing in it's anxiety. "No...no. No, I'm not doing that now. I'm gonna enjoy this, Eileen, so leave the baggage at the airlock." she chided herself. This was now. This was the promise of returning to where she should be. She'd had enough anxiety, at least about that so this was a new beginning.

Looking around herself again, her features figuratively melted back to her habitual default expression of calm contentment. A smile crept up and found it's comfortable place therein. A paraphrase of an old Earth song started in the back of her mind, nearly threatening to make her want to vocalize it to the arrival officer heading the line she approached as her mood bouyed and her step lightened.

"On the road again...just so glad I'm on the road again...the life I love is fixing starships with some friends...and I'm just glad to be on the road again."

Well, maybe she'd hum a few bars. "Hmm Mmm Mmm MmMmmmm. MmmMmm Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm MmMmmm." The person ahead of her glanced back at the seemingly far too energetic woman with the kind of expression one would expect of a tired traveller at a port suddenly having the person behind them almost break into song before turning to meet the arrival officer.

Eileen McCleran smile brightened like a reinforced shield. "At least I still don't need a bucket to carry a tune..."

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Life had changed drastically for Aidoann. She knew she couldn’t go back and didn’t want to but also couldn’t help being cautious. The exact events that brought her to this point were something that would remain with her forever. Yet deep within they were meant to be. Glancing at others leaving the shuttle it was clear that Danara was a bit older than some.



As a Romulan she knew there weren’t many of her kind. Dwelling on the past is not something Aidoann preferred. Honestly with the new life she had built things were good. Her eyes dropped to the PADD carrying her orders. Quickly she confirmed her final destination then returned to taking in the activity around her.



While this was everything she’d hoped for and dreamed of it also felt a bit unnerving and strange. Aidoann knew with time that too would fade. As far as she concerned the past didn’t exist. The fact that she’d aided Starfleet set off a chain of events that led her to now being a full member of Starfleet. More than that it was a place Aidoann felt accepted.



Danara’s former home world had been destroyed. Though it was not a place she wanted to remember. Starfleet presented her with a chance to make a difference. Hopefullly Aidoann would be able to achieve everything professionally that she wanted. “We’ll just have to see…” she commented to herself quietly. After that Danara continued towards her destination in silence. It gave her a chance to get her thoughts in order.


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Guest jade rigby

Jade looked at the mirror, studing her face. She has her Father's Romulan brows and her mother's perfectly jet black hair, human ears though. Stange she thought to herself.

Jade's Father was Romulan and her mother was human. She grew up without her father(never knew him) and became obsessed with finding her biological father. She joined the Starfleet academy straight out of High school. Being half human/ half Romulan Jade kept to herself as she tries to achieve her goals. Though she is half Romulan, she sometimes follow Vulcan laws- seeing that sometimes emotions comes in her way.

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The years had been hard to deMarc, harder than he thought that he would ever have a right to be placed against him. He felt the shuttle, another boring box with pylons, shaking a bit as it blasted him through the atmosphere yet again. He didn't know what this was going to be, he didn't know what the entire experience would bring, but he knew that it would not be a fantastic thought to be late.

Operations: =/\= Operations to deMarc. =/\=

deMarc: =/\= deMarc. =/\=

Operations: =/\= We show docking in two minutes, sir. =/\=

deMarc: ::So glad that you could d that on your own:: =/\= Aye Operations. Shuttle M4487-A on final approach. =/\=

Operations: =/\= You are clear to dock, space number 87 Alpha =/\=

deMarc: =/\= '487-A copies all. =/\= Well, children, we are almost there.

Aleks: Daddy, will Mommy be there?

deMarc: I don't know son. I heard... that... she may be.

Aleks: Well, we are ready, I guess. How long will you be gone?

deMarc: It's been a long time, I kind of forget how long this part takes.

Fran'ces'ca: Will you get your own ship?

deMarc: Not any time soon, little one. Daddy had a problem, and they want to make sure that he's all better.

Fran'ces'ca: What about Uncle Captain?

::He laughed a bit at that one. She always had a way that went right to the meat of the issue. And this time, she was probably talking about Ben Walker, who had gone too.::

deMarc: I don't know, Princess. I only know that I am going to drop you off with the Officer of the Wee Ones for a few days. And then I will be back.

Aleks: What about Auntie Dai?

deMarc: **shivering a bit** She's had a lot of problems too. She retired about two years ago, and has been... less than available.

::Daikin Nua. Now there was a name that they didn't recall all that often. It was more about a matter of secrecy, mostly to protect him, and the children. The Crimson Brotherhood were sure to notice his return, especially if T'Pen was coming back. And then there was Frazier. That... was going to be hard. H arder than he could believe, but that would have to come, like all of the rest.::

deMarc: =/\= Shuttle Rho approaching, initiating final boarding sequence. =/\=

Operations: =/\= You are cleared to begin final boarding sequence. Upon touch down you are requested at the office of Security immediately. =/\=

deMarc: =/\= I will be there right afer I ... =/\=

Operations: =/\= The cheif was adamate sir. Immediately. Starbase 118 Operations out.=/\=

deMarc: I wonder what that's about?

Aleks: Maybe they just want to tell us what deck we will be on?

deMarc: I don't know son. I just don't know. But I know one thing. I don't like how this is starting...

Returning Officer

Francis deMarc

StarFleet Marine Corps

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OOC: Glad to be back!

IC:

::T'Pen bowed her head, a tendril of her whitening hair flipping down into her line of site. Wiping the wet tendril back, she looked up and then down. Below her, a sheer wall of rock and open expanse of space. Above her, more of the same unyielding, unmoving rock. She continued ascending the rock face, inch by inch, feeling the breeze that had whipped up from the lower tree tops that made up Shinraka's formidable forest. Clipping in to the rock face, she turned herself ever so slightly to her left.

An outcropping stood out from the shear cliff face. Set atop the small pile, sat a next made of small stones, twigs and what appeared to be twine. Thinking back, T'Pen had noticed that several strands of twine had been missing from her garden. She inwardly smiled at the memory and finding the thief was directly before her.

Listening closely, tuning out the wind around her, she heard the soft chirps coming from within the nest. Leaning over, she peered in, seeing three baby rock pigeons opening their mouths up towards what they perceived was their mother. T'Pen started to talk with them in her own special way, but became distracted by a larger shadow that grew into her field of vision.

Looking up into the massive form of the Rock Pigeon; its purple plumage and dark blue eyes looking back, T'Pen thought that her life was finally at an end. She'd heard stories of Rock Pigeons with their claw-like feet ripping people open from throat to groin and feeding on their insides. She'd never seen it first hand and really had no wish to have it happen now, but being as high as she was, T'Pen knew she was either bird feed or a grease spot somewhere far below.::

T'Pen: Easy. Easy. I was merely looking.

::The Rock Pigeon honked loudly, shaking the rocks around T'Pen's hand. She blinked. Something happened at the exact same time the bird had honked. Then it happened again.::

=/\=Chirp=/\=

::T'Pen grabbed her pant leg, but at the same time the Rock Pigeon must have thought T'Pen was going to swing at her. It snapped down on T'Pen's right hand, swinging T'Pen away from the rock, then directly into the rock, jarring her with bone rattling force. T'Pen tried to grab her combadge again, but the Rock Pigeon had her tightly clenched in its beak.::

T'Pen: Let go!

::Swinging hard with her left hand, she hit the bird on its beak. The creature let go, hurtling T'Pen away from the rock face and towards the forest below. Thinking fast, T'Pen slapped her leg, where the combadge had been clipped to the inside of a pocket.::

T'Pen: =/\=Go ahead. =/\=

Voice: =/\=Ma'am. Donaldson here. You're being recalled.=/\=

T'Pen: =/\=Unless Starfleet wants me in a million pieces, Ensign, I'd suggest beaming me right now to where you are.=/\=

Donaldson: =/\=Um..Uh...=/\=

T'Pen: =/\=Sooner would be better than later, Ensign!=/\=

Donaldson: =/\=Aye aye Ma'am.=/\=

::T'Pen felt the familiar feeling of a transporter beam. With a thud, she landed on her side, upon the transporter padd.::

T'Pen: ::Grunting:: Report!

Donaldson: Starfleet reuped you, Ma'am.

T'Pen: Let me guess, SB118?

Donaldson: Yes Ma'am.

T'Pen: When?

Donaldson: Next Shuttle out. Two minutes.

T'Pen: Beam me directly to the shuttle, Ensign.

Donaldson: Aye Ma'am. And good luck.

::The transporter beam took hold of her again and when she blinked, she was in the back portion of a small shuttle.::

T'Pen: Second star to the right and on till morning. SB118 here I come.

TBC

Doc

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::Carter sat slumped in his chair on the shuttle, leaning against the cold wall of the spacecraft with his eye closed in a light slumber. With such a long voyage and nothing to do but re-read Starfleet manuals, Vance sought to catch a few winks. His slumber was calm, an endless sea calm as polished glass with a singular sailboat of antique design catching the gentle currents. Carter sat in the padded seat at the helm, clad in only a bathing suit with his feet kicked up. Beside him was a singular cooler filled to the brim with ice and chilled beers. The dream was not long to last, however::

Pilot: =/\= Attention passengers, we will be docking with StarBase 118 in the next ten minutes. Please make sure that you have gathered all of your belongings and are prepared for customs.=/\=

::Groaning, Carter was dragged from his dream of a warm San Francisco sun and the cool sea breeze of the Pacific by the shuttle pilot over the intercom. Rubbing his eyes with an index and thumb finger, the man yawned, the scar on his face knotting oddly. Grunting sharply at the feeling, Vance massaged the knot of scar tissue and the flesh around it.::

Carter: oO Five years since that brawl and it still knots up... Oo

Child: Why is his face like that, ma-ma?

Woman: Quiet, dear. Don't be rude.

::Carter turned to the source of the voices, seeing a young Caitian woman and her child, perched upon her lap with wide eyes trained on the deep scar on Carter's face. He smiled at the two of them warmly.""

Caitian Woman: I am so sorry, sir.

::Chuckling, Carter raised a hand to stop her where she was.::

Carter: Think nothing of it, miss. If the little one really wants to know...

::Carter paused, looking the child in the eyes, seeing them grow wide with curiosity. Leaning in, Vance spoke in a loud whisper.::

Carter: I didn't eat my vegetables as a kid.

Caitian Child: Really?

::Carter nodded, smiling.::

Carter: Oh, yes. It very common, so you need to remember to eat well, or you'll end up like me - only half of you will look good in the mirror.

::Carter smiled wider still, seeing his words root into the child just by his expression and even more so by the coy upward curl of the mother's lips. In light of the conversation, Carter had not noticed that the shuttle was pulling into dock at the StarBase. Gathering up his one black duffle bag, Vance set it on his lap, eagerly anticipating a chance to stretch his legs.::

Pilot: =/\=This is your pilot speaking. We have docked with StarBase 118. You are now permitted to disembark.=/\=

::With those words, Vance stood up and straightened his uniform. Slinging his duffle, he smiled to the Caitian woman and her child, giving them each a polite nod.::

Carter: You two be safe now.

::Carter pointed to the child, smirking.::

Carter: And you be sure to eat right, little man.

::The child nodded and smiled back. Turning, Carter departed from the shuttle and made his way with the milling crowd, ultimately moving from one slowly moving line to a slower line in the customs department. Carter sighed, moving a couple paces every several minutes. In reality, it was not that long, but he was tired from the trip and anxious for his Cadet Cruise. Finally reaching his turn, Carter simply handed his Starfleet Cadet credentials to the Customs officer. With a scan, a stamp, and a wish of good luck, Carter was sent on his way. With the rest of the Station before him a handful of hours to kill before roll call, Carter made his way to the lounge.::

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((Shuttlecraft enroute to Starbase118))

::Cadet Peter Coyum was not very fond of this particular type of shuttlecraft. He didn't know the type or model number but it was clearly a craft for civilian use and, as such, was full of civilians. The were a few exceptions such as himself and a couple of other Starfleet personnel including an interesting looking human male cadet with a large scar on his face who had comfortably nodded off to dreamland.::
::It's not that Cadet Coyum didn't like shuttle flight but it's just that some craft were not quite designed for one of his physical stature, being a hair over 2 meters tall and approaching 130kgs. He always felt like the "elephant in the shuttle" at times like this.::
Pilot: =/\= Attention passengers, we will be docking with StarBase 118 in the next ten minutes. Please make sure that you have gathered all of your belongings and are prepared for customs.=/\=
::Cadet Coyum chuckled inwardly at the scarred cadet being startled out of sleep by the announcement but kept a stoic facade. Even as a kid he was able to keep a stern look on his face regardless of what he was thinking. It was something years of military schools and extra-curricular training ingrained in you. He didn't want anyone seeing anything but grim determination when they looked at him.::
::The scarred cadet had begun interacting with a Caitian child in a friendly manner which had put a smile on the lips of it's mother. Clearly the cadet was destined for command, possibly even Captain of a vessel. Making others feel at ease and politicking for smiles was a valuable quality for a command Officer but did not interest Cadet Coyum. He felt destined to become a Starfleet Marine in service to the United Federation of Planets, possibly leading other Marines, but making children happy was not a necessary part of that equation.::
Pilot: =/\=This is your pilot speaking. We have docked with StarBase 118. You are now permitted to disembark.=/\=
::Cadet Peter Coyum stood and did exactly that, disembarked. He didn't even carry a duffel bag as he needed nothing but the skills and determination he had worked so hard to hone. Starfleet would provide him with everything else he would need, for the rest of his life...::
Edited by Mathematically Improbable

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Guest Toja Loren

Toja Loren was just a couple centimeters too tall for a Trill. At least, that's what everyone seemed to think when they looked at him. Over two meters in height, he had a distinct advantage in the way of perspective. That advantage did not extend, however, to any kind of notion of comfort in a small transport shuttle. Even a slight variance in the inertial dampening field would leave him with a lump on the head to tell the tale. As such, he spent his time on transports either seated or with a slight bend to the knee. Luckily, his training in martial arts made that bent-knee posture fairly comfortable for him. He did seem to spend a bit more time on the balls of his feet.

"You're awfully quiet for someone that's close to graduating." The shuttle's conn officer, a male human Lieutenant by the name of Carter, had attempted to make small talk at various points throughout the flight, to no avail. It wasn't that Cadet Loren was particularly nervous about his cadet cruise. He just wasn't a very skilled conversationalist. Oh, he tried, to be sure, but he always came across as a bit awkward in a social setting.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. I'm just... thinking." Awkward, but articulate. He seemed to be very careful about what he said, as if each word was measured. "I'm still not used to not being surrounded by telepaths. I grew up on Betazed, my parents were computer scientists. I got their social skills, not their computer skills." What he didn't say was that he'd forgotten the pilot's name... again. That was a weakness for Toja. Names always seemed to slip away from him.

The pilot let out a chuckle at the last part. "Well, you can at least tell a joke. That's a start. So, what is your area of concentration?"

The cadet smiled a little, perhaps for the first time on the flight. "Security or tactical." He seemed to be quite fond of the choices that lay before him.

Lieutenant Carter grinned playfully over his shoulder to Toja. "Oh, a fighter, were you?" Toja seemed almost perplexed by the statement. The humor, it seems, was lost.

"No, sir. Not particularly. I found an early appreciation for martial arts, strategy, and tactics. I was told that I had a Vulcan-like ability to focus on those subjects. That and archery." His prized possession was a recurve bow, handmade and strung; the end result of years of study of the discipline. "Primitive by our standards, but... far more intimate than a phaser."

That prompted a rather incredulous look from the good Lieutenant. "Intimate?" He immediately regretted saying it, fearing that it prompted a whole new line of discussion. "You might want to get your things ready, we'll be docking at Starbase 118 in a few moments. It, uh... It was fun chatting with you, Cadet."

Toja offered a practiced smile, the kind that every cadet learned how to show an officer when required. He nodded cordially, and after the back-and-forth chatter between the pilot and the starbase's conn officer on duty, the shuttle had docked. He carried the standard array of things: A duffelbag, a shoulder bag. The sum of his possessions. And, of course... His bow.

The starbase was a kind of busy that he hadn't really grown used to. Not the frantic and constant rush of cadets from one place to another. This was more chaotic, yet more purposeful. It was the feeling of purpose and intent that gave him a bit more ease. He already had his quarters assignment, and he remembered where it was down to the length of the corridor. While his mind might be a black hole for names, nearly any other detail stuck with him with surprising tenacity. His quarters seemed to be the best place for him to go, but only as a first stop. He had some down time before his cadet cruise commenced, and he knew where he was going to spend it. Tucked in his duffelbag, an isolinear data chip with a few of his favorite holoprograms. A judo sparring simulation, and an archery range. The man loved his hobbies. Hopefully, he'd be able to put them to good use for Starfleet.

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(( Starbase 118 - Corridor ))



oO Too early to be up, too late to nap. I thought the no win situations didn't start until the cruise. Oo



:: He smirked at his own joke - it wasn't quite clever enough for a chuckle - and turned the corner of the hallway. ::



oO Wow ... now that's impressive. Something here must sell coffee. Oo



:: Cadet First Class Caleb Royce Alexander was staring out into a massive open space, bustling with activity even in the early morning. The shuttle crew called it the Promenade, and it was impressive even for someone who had docked at a few space stations in his time. ::



:: A group of small children ran in front of him, giggling and laughing as they played about in their own little world - totally unaware of the realities around them. He smiled. ::



:: Alexander wandered down the hallway - or was it more of a street? - for several moments until he spotted the terminal against the west wall. 'DIRECTORY' it proudly pronounced in Terran English. There were other markings above it and below it as well. Some he recognized: Terran Chinese and Hindi, Klingon, Bajoran; others were completely foreign to him. ::



:: He walked quickly up to the directory and stared into the lifeless glass screen, focusing for a moment on his own reflection. His face was long and thin, with a nose that was just a touch too large, though he still thought he was handsome enough. He was clean shaven, and had close-cut sandy brown hair contrasting with lightly tanned white flesh. His eyes were brown flecked with a touch of gold - and they looked tired. He reached out and gave the display a touch with his index finger and the colors and images sprang to life, replacing his reflection. Several more quick taps and the Promenade food listing was in front of him. ::



oO Subspace Cafe ... that sounds promising. Oo



:: By the time Alexander reached the cafe he found it busy, though not overly crowded. A bar-height table ran the length of the back wall near an array of coffee presses and steamers, and to his delight there were still a few free stools. He sat down and dropped his bags, then flashed a tired smile at the waiter behind the nearby counter, a middle-aged human man with graying hair and bright eyes. ::



WAITER (NPC): Morning, what can I get for you?



ALEXANDER: Any chance you have Terran Columbian, something dark?



WAITER (NPC): First time in here, huh? We have just about everything you can imagine. All hand roasted and brewed, nothing like that horrible replicator junk.



ALEXANDER: Sounds perfect.



WAITER (NPC): So, you just enlist?



:: Alexander looked at the waiter and noticed his eyes on the duffel bags. They were the heavy, navy blue bags embroidered only with his initials - no logos. They were issued to the enlisted ranks only. He had the nice Starfleet Academy bags too, but he preferred to travel with the old ones. ::



ALEXANDER: Oh, no actually. Starfleet Academy, here for my cruise. I was enlisted years back.



:: Alexander pulled back the collar of his black overcoat revealing his cadet rank pips. ::



WAITER (NPC): No kidding? Don't see that too often. Where'd you serve?



ALEXANDER: USS Bondar. Akira class, Alpha Quadrant.



WAITER (NPC): So what made you apply to the academy?



ALEXANDER: Well ... that's a very long story not fit for a morning this early.



:: The waiter set a black-colored porcelain cup on the table next to Alexander, a wisp of steam slowly curling up into the air. ::



:: Alexander looked down at the plain black watch on his left wrist, it read 0422. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, recoiling slightly from the temperature. ::



oO I don't even care if it burned me, [...] fine cup of coffee. Oo



:: It only took Alexander a light tug on the delicate platinum chain around his neck to pull it free from his uniform shirt and coat. At the end of the chain was a gold ring with a large ruby adorning the top, inscribed on the side was 'Stanford University 238505' He rubbed the ring between his left thumb and forefinger, then quickly tucked it back into his shirt. ::



oO I didn't finish the university program, I left the Bondar two years early to commission at the academy. He bit his lip gingerly as the realization weighed heavy on his mind. I'm not nervous about the cruise, I'm nervous about how long I last afterward. Is this finally going to fit, or am just restless down to my core? Oo



:: Alexander took another sip of his coffee and found it cooled more to his liking. He stretched his legs from the stool down to the floor then have his torso a quick twist. He was about six feet and two inches tall - although he always exaggerated it to women - and a trim but not overly muscled one hundred and ninety pounds. He was also just lanky enough that a few hours in a packed runabout left him fairly uncomfortable. ::



WAITER (NPC): So, how's the brew?



ALEXANDER: Just about perfect. Best cup I've had since I left Earth.



WAITER (NPC): A good cup of black coffee can solve more problems than you might think.



ALEXANDER: I guess it's important to appreciate the little things in life, huh?



WAITER (NPC): Yes sir, small miracles. Anything else I can get you?



ALEXANDER: No, thanks ... I should probably start making my way toward the holodecks. I have that habit of taking the shuttle that arrives three hours early only to get lost once I'm there and show up late.



:: Alexander allowed himself to chuckle at that one. He had a soft spot for self-deprecating humor - it had the marvelous ability to downplay an insecurity and make you smile all at once. And in this case, it was also completely honest. ::



WAITER (NPC): Fair enough, and this place really is massive. Did they tell you administrative section?



ALEXANDER: Yep, that's right.



WAITER (NPC): You're looking for decks in the mid to upper four hundreds. If you take the type-b turbolift, about a hundred meters south from here, but in the same wall, you'll cut out a lot of travel time.



ALEXANDER: Thanks, you've been a real life-saver.



:: Alexander stood up from his stool, took a last gulp of his coffee, and hosted the two heavy duffels onto his shoulders. He gave a polite half-wave to the waiter and began to walk toward the door when a voice stopped him. ::



WAITER (NPC): Good luck ... hope you don't it.



:: Alexander smiled, though he didn't turn around, and exited the cafe. ::



oO Ok, time to go finish this. Maybe after twenty eight years I really have found my calling. And if not, I can always see if the Subspace Cafe is hiring ... man that was great coffee. Oo



OFF



Cadet First Class Caleb Royce Alexander




OOC: Been a long while since I've simmed, so I'm very excited to have found you all!


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Alright, here goes:

T'Lana stepped off the transporter pad and onto the floor of the transporter room. As soon as her foot touched down on the unremarkable surface, T'Lana felt as if her fate with sealed. New Vulcan and Betazoid would always be her true homes. Did others feel the same? She forced herself not to glance at the other recently graduated cadets, though she could sense their apprehension and excitement. She didn't want to admit that her heart was feeling the same conditions.

With a nod to the transporter chief, T'Lana left for her quarters on Deck 5, finding them without trouble. As the doors opened, she set her belongings down and gave the room a sweep with her onyx colored eyes. She was a peculiar looking young woman. Slightly tall, her pointed ears and slanted eyebrows were a good indication of her Vulcan heritage. But her firey red hair was cut short with a side bang that brushed delicately against her forehead. Her eyes. were black like onyx gems traits found in Betazoid heritage.

She was a quiet person, preferring to keep to herself instead of socializing. There were so many people and beings on the Starbase, that she felt a slight headache coming on. It was going to be like this. For a long time, she realized. Without being phased by her thoughts, T'Lana began unpacking her belongings, some of which had already been shipped to the base before she arrived. She hung up posters with Surak's teachings and a picture of a forest. She pulled out candles and began stationing them around the room. Perhaps she would light them later during meditation. For now, it would do. The final pieces to go on the walls was a Vulcan lyre and a picture of Vulcan before it had been destoryed.

With that done, she lowered herself slowly onto the sofa in the room. It was still rather stark and well...not like her two homes at all. Could she be getting homesick? She was too old for that. Besides, she had personally requested the assignment here. Why, then, did she feel so out of place?

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