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FltAdml. Wolf

official "Arrival at StarBase 118" (Introduce your character here!)

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Sliding a duffel bag from his shoulder, allowing it to drop to the floor at his feet a young man stands looking around the hallway outside the docking port. A hand idly brushing away a lock of brown hair from his eyes he tilts his head and lets out a barely noticeable sigh: "Now where to go next.  Sir, a moment, I need to report to...". The officer he tried to catch the attention of keeps walking down the corridor. Once more he tries: "Excuse me, I'm Sakinth.  Cadet Sakinth... I need to report for cadet training, but I lack the knowledge of the layout of this particular starbase design."

The officer he asked looks at the young Vulcan man, noticing an almost imperceptible hint of... embarrassment?  "You'll need to go down there, take the turbolift, go to..." the officer patiently explains where the new cadet should go.

As the cadet jogs off to the turbolift the officer waits a second before calling out: "Cadet, your bag.. " and then turning around with a grin and walking on himself.

As Sakinth returns for his bag he looks after the officer, picks up the bag and starts to follow the directions again.

Half an hour later, after he has reported and stowed his gear in his assigned quarters, Sakinth studies a map of the station and makes his way to the promenade. 

(( Not my best work.... my grandfather in law will be passing away and I must admit my mind is not fully on it.  I also requested a delay in training because of that...  )) 


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"Temporary quarters are that way, Kay-det," the human Chief Petty Officer at the transporter  console explained, pointing to a map temporarily brought up on a nearby control interface, "And the holodeck where ya'll will be taking your final exam is just a couple of turns and turbo ride down. Anyway, all that is accessible on your PADD or from your quarters, or Heck, you can ask directions from anywhere on the base. Don't be shy."


"I appreciate your guidance, Chief," Cadet T'Gan replied somberly.


The Chief Petty Officer grinned broadly. "Well, good luck on your final exam. I'm sure you'll knock him dead." With that pronouncement, the Chief returned his attention back to his transporter controls, leaving T'Gan to make her way to her quarters.


If the dark skinned Vulcan noticed the glances she received as she made her way to her quarters, she didn't show it. Although it wasn't unknown for Vulcans to wear their hair long (T'Gan's dark hair was loosely braided and reached past the middle of her back), most Vulcans serving in Starfleet chose to wear their hair in a "bowl style." Of course, if those she passed had known that T'Gan answered to "Cadet O'Sullivan," or that she spoke with a hint of an accent reminiscent of an Irish brogue, she  might have garnered more than just a few glances.  But since T'Gan walked with the steady pace of "Vulcan purpose," she was quickly forgotten. The number of cadets who had reported to SB 118 for their final exam were so many, that one more cadet got lost in the parade. 


T'Gan quickly found her quarters and got settled in. Setting an alarm with the computer, she found an appropriate place to assume a meditative position.

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Guest Personal Record of R'rraww

Personal Record of R'rraww Hontrú 66756
Currently Marine Major in service to Starfleet

Rank: Marine Major (Lt Commander)
Species: Caitain
Callsign: Tiger
Weight: 90.5kg
Height: 1.98 meter
DOB: Stardate  [-4] 60235.6
Coloring: Dark fur - dark brown to black
Eyes: Golden
Hearing: Extraordinary
Sight: Low Light -20% of human baseline
Current Assignment: USS Mnemosyne NCC-99923

He is a dark coated Caitain from the mountain clan Hontrú. His family name means "Tip of the Claw". He served in the Cait militia before enlisting in Starfleet. He was a ground force Marine in the Dominion War and there he received a field promotion to Marine Capt. (equivalent to full Lt. in the fleet) for taking out a Jem Hadar gun emplacement (alone) that had his squad pinned down.

He doesn't drink alcohol, he doesn't do cat nip. He spends his off time with his canine "kit" or puppy, and his bonzi trees. He also paints landscapes from what he remembers from the mountain of Cait, where he grew up. He studies two forms of Caitain martial arts and one form of Vulcan martial arts. In spirituality he contemplates the workings of The Goddess. (Which is why he loves the name of his current ship, he sees it as a sign that he is doing the right thing in Starfleet.

He can see in the dark, hear high frequency sounds and he can literally smell his enemies. He can run for short periods at about 40km per hour. He can leap up to 6 meters at a stand still. He is as quite as a leaf on the wind and uses all his senses in combat. R'rraww takes pride in keeping his claws sharp as a dagger's edge and clean. He still doesn't understand why some species wear shoes. 

Although he can speak basic, he prefers to speak a dialect of his Homeworld knowing the translator will compensate. The Major also knows how to understand and write in Klingon his best friend and former CO is Kered Nella, (Captain of the USS Stephen Hawking) who has been known to be a part of clan Hontrú because of their blood bond. He doesn't lie, it's not culturally correct and his tail and smell would give that away. So you can count on his honest council.

Some of the more easily noticed body language cues included:
*Tail curling or looping – Laughter or Amusement
*Flicking of tail tip – Frustration or Annoyance
*Ears folding back rapidly – Astonishment or surprise
*Ears folding back and remaining back, widened eyes – Anger or fear
*Gripping own tail and wringing it – Extreme distress (this motion disturbs the balance badly)
*Quivering of ears and whiskers – Excitement and Anticipation
*Stiffening and straightening of tail, bristling of fur – Hostility or Anger
*Whiskers and tail drooping and remaining still – Sadness or Depression

((Real life speaking as player))
#R’rraww speaks with UT for the crew to hear and understand#
Ssspeaking with hiss Caitain accccent with elongated “S's, C's and Z soundssss 
*Movement and actions*

[Fortunately humans and many other species with poor olfactory senses can't detect a Caitain's pheromones which is another method of their communications, one that is much more intimate. This is one reason that Deltains work well with Caitains, they understand each other in subtitle ways that transcend the sexual behavior. It's because they understand pheromone communication. Female Deltains secret a ∞sensual pheromone that can  disturb some human males in an almost carnal manner.]


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Weclome to our new members and Major R'rraww.

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Stepped off the shuttle pad and scowled as he looked around. It was obvious by the Ensign pip on his collar that he was a recent Academy Grad just like the wide eyed idiots who were milling around, staring dumbfound in slack jawed wonderment at the environment of their first duty station in the Fleet.

He was immediately discernible from his fellow graduates in that he had to be a good 20 years older than the oldest kid in the group. His jaw had a firm set to it and there was a dull, listless, hard sheen to his gaze. While yes, this man was a recent Academy Graduate, he was by no means new to the hardships and harshness of space. He shouldered his duffel, squared his shoulders and brushed briskly past the other butter bars. He needed a drink and maybe even a cigarette if he should be so lucky.

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"The current time is 2118 hours." intoned the robotic voice, echoing through the shuttle.

"This shuttle will arrive at Starbase 118 at precisely 2120 hours, Stardate 239607.15."

Hathur gazed out the window. They were just entering orbit of the station, to prepare for docking: he could see the flashing red lights on the landing bay, inviting them down to finally land, inviting him to begin the adventure ahead.

He still couldn't believe that he had made it into Starfleet Academy, let alone graduated. Too many times, he questioned what he was even doing, whether his parents were right about the horrible things they had said about the Federation during his training. Even many of his teachers questioned his motivations. But, this was right. This had to be right.

Looking back at the window, he took in the Starbase itself. It was an almost otherworldly structure, seeming to rise out of the infinite, inky void that was space, like some kind of heavenly creation. "It's so beautiful." he muttered to himself, forgetting that he was even in a shuttlecraft.

"Hm." he heard somebody say, next to him. Right, he wasn't in space yet. "Oh, I'm sorry." he said, looking over to the person -- a Vulcan, Strol, he believed his name was, one of his classmates in Advanced Applications of Logic -- next to him.

"An apology was unnecessary. I was simply curious as to what, precisely, you find to be 'beautiful' in a standard Federation starbase." Strol spoke, one eyebrow perpetually raised.

"Well.. I suppose it's not so much the structure, but what it holds. From here begins the journey, for all of us in this shuttlecraft. I mean, who knows what's next for all of us?"

The Vulcan nodded. "Ah, I believe I understand. It is not the structure itself, but the emotional value and promise of it that you find beautiful. Highly peculiar, but, understandable for an emotional people such as yours."

But Hathur wasn't paying attention. Docking procedures were beginning, as the ship gently lowered itself into the port. One of the departing words with Professor Ledirs, his xeno-history teacher who was also assigned to Starbase 118 when he graduated, was to not look out the window of the shuttle during docking as it was known to perform some rather.. nauseating moves to align itself properly. Apparently, he had learned the hard way. But, despite the sage advice, Hathur found himself unable to look away. Besides, growing up terraforming, he was used to sharp changes in perspective.

It was all over far too soon. "Docking procedures have been successfully completed. Please wait for the shuttle to come to a complete stop." announced the computer, that same familiar, warm voice (based off of the legendary Starfleet doctor Admiral Chapel, as recognition of her achievements in biotechnology) that had accompanied him since the beginning. A far cry from the harsh, guttural voice of a Cardassian computer.

"The shuttle has come to a complete stop. Please proceed to Deck 14 for assignment of quarters. Welcome to Starbase 118." With this, the door at the side of the shuttle wooshed open. Standing up, he heard Strol begin to speak. "Well, Mr. Ev, may our.." There went that eyebrow, again. "journey.. be a fruitful one." Not allowing time for a response, he quickly disembarked, Hathur closely following him. He was eager to get on the ground as soon as possible in this new area, and he felt that following behind the rather socially uncaring Vulcan was the perfect opportunity to do so quickly.

Stepping out into the cavernous docking bay, he took in a busy scene. Officers of all kinds ran around, Operations people examining ships and punching PADDS, engineering staff looking into engines and carrying tools, and a host of other nervous cadets seemingly shuffling around. Hathur approached these, believing they could hold some kind of answer about where to go.

"Hey, do you guys know where the turbolift is? I need to find where they're assigning quarters."

"That's what we're all trying to figure out!" roared one of the cadets, a Klingon, at the front of the group.

"Please calm yourself, Cadet Jowlw'. We do not want to draw undue attention to ourselves." spoke Strol, walking up next to the group.

"I do not CARE about attention, I must find my quarters!"

Hathur stepped back, suspecting that this would go nowhere fast with how busy it was on the deck. Taking a look around the room, he saw a group of a few other cadets, entering what seemed to be a chamber of some sort. Ah, yes, a turbolift chamber! "Hey guys, it's over here!" he yelled, but it appeared that Strol and the Klingon were having a slight dispute. They didn't even take notice.

And so he went ahead and headed to the room, and, just as suspected, it was a turbolift, now empty. "Deck.." Suddenly, horror now creeping into his mind, he forgot what deck the computer had told him to go to. Four.. deck four, that was it! "Deck four." he spoke confidently. The computer, beeping obediently, ferried him up to Deck 4.

The turbolift opened to a grand promenade, stores dotting every corner of the area. Hathur took a moment, stepping out, to just observe everything. There was a flurry of activity occurring, and with it, a general hum of conversation, some in Federation Standard, some in Klingon, some in Vulcan, some in languages he could not even parse. There were stores all around, one run by fascinating aliens selling memorabilia from the Alpha Quadrant, one a Starfleet-sponsored store carrying tiny ship replicas, one a Ferengi bazaar -- you name it, it was there. Even at Starfleet Academy, there was not such incredible diversity. And, after he fended off a Klingon chef trying to convince him to come to his restaurant to hear his "beautiful" opera, he realized that it was all open to him to explore.

Although this was clearly not where quarters were assigned, Hathur yet again found himself unable to care.

This was it, this was the essence of the Federation. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations, as one of his old Vulcan teachers once said. And he was part of it now.

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Stepping off the transport, Kano Risha reached and undid the clip on the back of her hair, her brown hair fell down to her shoulders as she shook her head. The station smelled much better than the transport, the fresh flowers she saw made her nose, and ridges twitch. She smiled slightly before letting out a stifled sneeze.

"I could with a nice shower." She muttered as she slid the PADD from the bag on her shoulder. She moved with the vibrant crowds of people moving through, her starfleet uniform set her apart from them but no one seemed to bat an eyelid as she passed. 

She checked the PADD in her hand, she had a good half day before she was due to report to the holodeck. Shed already memorized the layout to the starbase and knew the easiest ways to get around. 

She smiled, her grey eyes taking a blueish hue in the lights. She walked taking in the sights, but her always curious mind was taking notice, watching people, assessing them. 

She saw a group of starfleet officers sat around a table, enjoying some food, she could hear them laugh as they spoke and she knew right there and then. Nothing was going to stop her achieving her dreams. This. Right here was were the profits pointed towards and of course where she wanted to be.

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((Starbase 118, Main Dome, San Francisco District, Shari’s Cafe))

The Inquiry

Raindrops fell onto the roof of Shari’s Cafe, bathing the intimate meeting place with a pleasant sound, as if a giant cat slept, just outside, purring. A woman as tall as a fashion model, Alastriona De Troyes, looked out a window. A single white dove sat by a fountain while little water droplets fell into the water. 

A cold breeze flew through the cafe. The door had opened. A man entered, wearing a tall black leather coat with the collar turned up. His white hair was cut short and he had piercing blue eyes. He cast his gaze around like a predator and noticed her sitting alone by the window. With a mocking smile on his face, he drifted over to her table. His words were gentle, but not kind. “Bonne après-midi.”

Her response was automatic, but without feeling, “Enchantée.”

The man spoke softly, “Thou from the first wast present, and with mighty wings outspread, dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss.”

“What in me is dark, illumine,” she whispered. “You’ve read Milton?”

The man nodded and took off his coat. He wore a Star Fleet uniform underneath with officer pips. He placed his jacket over a chair.“May I sit?”

Alastriona leaned back in her chair and looked out the window. Water dripped down the pane of glass. “Of course.”

Taking a seat, the man raised a hand and a pretty waitress came over. She was chewing bubble gum, which irritated Alastriona. “How can I help you two?”

“Lady’s first.”

Alastriona noticed that he was staring at her. Brushing a strand of long blonde hair out of her eyes, she turned to the waitress. “A cup of hot J’Sli, please.”

The waitress blew a bubble and popped it. “I’ve never heard of that drink.”

A shadow of a smile slipped into Alastriona’s face for a moment. “It’s a Pyelonian beverage. It’s in the database.”

The man didn’t take his eyes off Alastriona as he spoke. “Coffee, black.”

The waitress withdrew. A moment of silence stood between them. At last, she turned to look into his cold blue eyes. 

He had been waiting for her. “Your record states that you were once a Lieutenant on a starship. The U.S.S. Calhoun.”

Alastriona clasped her hands together on the table and nodded.

“What happened?”

“I was demoted, silly.”

“Yes, you were,” he grumbled. “Two times.”

Alastriona raised her eyebrows and let out a long sigh. “So now I’m an ensign.” She looked outside into the rain again. “Doesn’t matter. I’m an astrophysicist. I’m here to conduct research.”

“The first incident’s record was sealed.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“It’s classified,” she stated.

The man crossed his arms. “That isn’t good enough for me, not if you want to continue with your little training cruise.”

Alastriona frowned and shook her head. "I can’t help you. Now if you had a security clear-"

He withdrew a miniature PADD and placed it on the table. "Computer, level ten security clearance. Omega nine alpha two alpha nine omega six. Fiery the angels fell."

The computer replied, "Level ten security clearance verified. "

Alastriona sat there, stunned.

A flash of lightning lit the sky outside, followed by rolling thunder. The rain came down, in torrents now. It was all artificial, of course, but the effect was real enough. All of the lights went out in the cafe for an instant. Everyone let out a collective, “Oooh!” and then the lights came back on. 

Alastriona smiled at the simulation and wondered for a moment at the genius of it all. She turned back to the officer and explained, “My sin was the crime of hesitation. The darkness in my soul had consumed me with hate.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

The waitress returned with their drinks, placed them down and departed. Alastriona took a sip of the spicy Pyelonian beverage, feeling warmth creep back into her chest. She admired the china cup for a moment. Little blue flowers went around the rim. At last, she told him. “I discovered an attempt to introduce a genetically advanced retrovirus into the Klingon population, which would have resulted in the extinction of their species, if it had succeeded.”

“You hesitated?” A frown had slipped into his face. “How so?”

“I didn’t report it,” she whispered. “For a small time, I wanted it to succeed.”

“The Klingons are our allies.”

“Not where I come from,” she mumbled.

“Where is that?”

She placed her hands around the rim of the cup, feeling warmth flow into her fingers. Spicy steam drifted in front of her face.“I’m from the French colonial world of Scylanthia. Its 151 light years from Sol in the Hyades star cluster, towards the constellation of Taurus, past Aldebaran.”

“If I let you continue, this will be your eighth assignment,” he said, “though I don’t understand why you’re repeating your training.”

Alastriona put her cup down. “I have suffered the effects of Einsteinian time dilation from an extended interstellar voyage on an alien starship.”


“As you measure time, I was born on March 12th, in the year 2253, a hundred and forty three years ago.” Alastriona smiled. “So, I’m over a hundred years out of date. I can barely run a tricorder.”

For the first time, he looked away. He took a sip of his coffee and put it down again.

Alastriona bit her lip.
~ He doesn’t believe me. They never do. ~
She continued, absentmindedly, “I suppose, chronologically, I’m143 years old. Biologically, I’m 29, by earth’s time standards, but on my world Scylanthia, where we measure time differently, I’m really 87.”

He raised his hand. “Enough.”

Alastriona raised her eyebrows. 

He stood up and put his long jacket back on. 

Alastriona held back a grin. 
~ He’s going outside into that torrential rain. I guess he doesn’t love me anymore.~
“What did I –”

“You can finish your training cruise.”

“Shall I explain further?”

He shook his head. “No.”
He flipped his jacket collar up and turned to leave. Then, hesitating a moment, turned back to face her. “What was the other demotion for?”

Alastriona winced. ~ I was hoping he wouldn’t ask about that. ~
“I killed the son of the Klingon ambassador while I was visiting earth. It was a fair fight, though it nearly started a –” 

He interrupted, “I thought you were going to say something like that.”
Though he didn’t have a hat on, he tipped his hand to his brow. “Adieu.”

As he went outside into the rain, Alastriona realized that he had never mentioned his name. She let out a long sigh. 
~ I suppose it isn’t important. He’s just another officer. ~

* * *

Alastriona De Troyes
Starbase 118

Edited by Alastriona De Troyes
Moved Shari's Cafe to San Francisco District
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Welcome to the Fleet @MarktheWriter and everyone else! Can't wait to see your successes 

Edited by Maddi Hyden

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13 hours ago, Alastriona De Troyes said:

Can't wait to write with you (if I'm assigned to your starship)... though, we could still do one together for fun. :)


I'm sure that could be a possibility.

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