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  1. Today
  2. Please welcome our newest Academy graduate to the UFOP: StarBase 118 fleet: Kettick! The post New Academy Graduate appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  3. Yesterday
  4. Last week
  5. STARBASE 104 – Having found some of the senior staff unresponsive in their quarters, the remaining officers of the USS Constitution-B struggle to figure out what’s going on and how to resolve it. Docked at Starbase 104 the crew of the USS Constitution (NCC 9012-B) prepared for an eminent departure. As with any planned departure from a Starbase, the Constitution’s crew busied with final preparations until just before the scheduled time to leave, a portion of the ship’s senior staff were discovered unresponsive inside their quarters. After an investigation, with the help of the ship’s holographic hair stylist, the senior staff was found to be alive, but in a deep unconscious state. As teams led by Lieutenant JG Jacob Horne and Ensign Ravenna Carter branched off to figure out what had happened, the theories on what had occurred abounded. Everything from some kind of link with Starfleet Academy, to an attack by unknown species of alien, were considered with no concrete evidence to prove any of it. One member of the crew theorized a tie to a similar attack in Klingon territory. “Right… we’re at Starfleet Academy,” said Lieutenant JG Lystra, surrounded by a group of officers in the Constitution’s main sickbay as she and Lieutenant Nalni awoke in complete confusion. “Why do you all keep asking inane questions? Stars, why is everyone acting so strange?” As clarity began to return to the two officers who had been asleep, the knowledge that they had been in some kind of shared dreamscape of the Academy came to light. Unknown who or what was causing this, the crew focused their attention on figuring out more with Nalni even offering to attempt a reentry into it as a way of finding answers. When that attempt failed, the crew continued their search with Horne’s team in the engineering lab working on a way to block communications on a quantum level, while others continued their search into the similar situation with the Klingons. The crew had a stroke of luck when Lieutenant Commander Atan T’Seva awoke with a little more memory of what had been happening in the Academy dreamscape. Hopeful that this would be the avenue to provide their answers, First Lieutenant T’Aven offered to help sort out the memories through the use of a mind meld. Written by Alex Blair The post USS Constitution-B Senior Staff Experience Starfleet Academy Dreamscape appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  6. Every month, the Academy staff works to compile the statistics about our recruiting and training for the fleet’s informational purposes. Let’s take a look at how we did as a fleet in September. This first graph depicts the number of applications that we have received each month this year. The month of September only saw four new applications. This marks September as the month with the lowest number of applicants all year. The following chart shows how our new members found us, according to their application: This final graph shows how many people graduated from the Academy during the month of September. The fleet saw five graduates during the month of September. This is an uncommon phenomenon that occurred because of August graduates who finished training in the beginning of September. We also had one applicant who’s training did not conclude until the beginning of October. These new recruits are the lifeblood of our community. Without them, it becomes difficult to keep our ships fully crewed and even more difficult to grow the fleet. If you’d like to help us recruit more members and grow our fleet, you can join the Publicity Team using this form. The post Applications and Academy Graduates for September 2019 appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  7. Join us in the chat room for our monthly OOC chat today (Sunday, October 13) at 10am Pacific / 1pm Eastern / 6pm London / 3am+1 Sydney (AUS). (See your timezone here.) Click here to join the chat on Discord. It’s fun and easy, and only takes a minute to get set up if you’ve never signed up on before. Our monthly chats are a place to meet other members of the fleet, catch up on current fleet events, share stories, and talk about Star Trek. Especially if you’ve never attended a chat before, we hope you’ll participate this month! The post Fleetwide OOC chat today – join us to show off your Halloween avatars! appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  8. Wow, it says I "won the day" on September 11th!
    Is that a good thing?

  9. They might be heroes to us, but it’s easy to believe that our characters have dreams just like their writers. It’s not too far a stretch of the imagination to believe that those dreams might take a similar form to common fantasies in our daily lives. Who hasn’t wondered what it would be like to fly, or blast away at the bad guys with laser sight? Even with phasers and replicators at their disposal, the occasional dalliance with the impossible is only human. Which superpower would your character like for a day? Click here to head directly to the forums and vote in this week’s poll. Be sure to leave a comment in the thread! The post Poll of the Week: Superpower Your Character Would Want For A Day? appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  10. ((OCC: This is the start of a mystery. The first 8 posts will set it up. After that, anyone who wants to join in can do so. This is Part 1 of 8 Flashback Scenes)) Alone ((Epsilon Argyros, Scylanthia, Alastriona’s Office – 239606.10 – Four Months Ago)) ::And she finally stopped playing their song when she realized that she was dancing alone. – Anonymous:: ::Like a dying firestorm, the red star Epsilon Argyros began to set below the horizon, bathing the room with fading passion. Alastriona looked up at her long bare legs, which were perched up on top of the glass table of her office, high above her homeworld, Scylanthia. It was summer outside, and she had chosen a pair of jean shorts, a red t-shirt and sandals to wear. Her pale skin warmed up nicely, even though the large glass windows were tinted.:: ::The building hovered over two thousand feet in the air above the city Cleeia. Outside, hundreds of multicolored balloon-like people – Scylanthian’s – drifted about. She could see the beaches far below, near her house. The ocean, tinted with a rainbow of colors cast down from the exotic atmosphere of the planet, turned cherry red as the sun fell into the sea. A scattering of stars came out: Theta Tauri, Gamma Tauri and Delta Tauri were first, followed by Epsilon Tauri and Aldebaran.:: ::Alatriona leaned back in her chair, stretched out her arms, and yawned.:: ::The computer was undeterred by her behavior.:: Computer: The mass segregation of the star cluster is consistent with the observed distribution of stellar types – DeTroyes: Ordinateur, arrêt. :: Another yawn filled her face. ::I’ve studied long enough today, ::she grumbled.:: ::The computer’s refusal was simple.:: Computer: Negative. ::The machine continued to drone on.:: Stellar evaporation occurs in the cluster halo as matter. . . ::Irritated, she dropped into English.:: DeTroyes: Computer, halt! ::In a condescending tone, the computer argued,:: Computer: The study schedule, programmed by YOU, continues for another two hours. DeTroyes: What’s with the attitude? Ten hours is enough for today! ::she complained:: If I can’t pass the science exams when I get to earth, maybe I’ll quit Starfleet altogether! :: She was grumbling, but knew the computer was right, or rather, she was right to have programmed the computer to try to force her to continue on. She was a hundred and twenty years out of date. It had been nearly a year since she’d asked for a leave of absence from Starfleet, so that she could study the current scientific theories. It was so embarrassing to ask people such simple things as how to use a modern tricorder.:: Computer: Starfleet re-certification exams begin in 56 Earth days. Since you’re scheduled to leave on the transport La Fayette in thirty six hours, and it takes 53 days at warp 8 to reach Sol, it is advisable to . . . DeTroyes: I know! ::Exasperated, she reached over to shut the thing off, but she hit the wrong button and it triggered a very old message buried inside the computer. Whispers came out of time, bringing back old memories. It was the voice of her sister, Genevieve.:: Genevieve: Alastriona, I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this message – Starfleet tells us that you’re science station at the edge of the milky way was destroyed, but I had a dream about you. . . . and I know that you’re still alive. . . . ::There was a pause where Alastriona thought she heard her sister crying. Then Genevieve continued,:: Genevieve: I have some terrible news to tell you. Everyone in our family is dead. Both of our parents, our cousins – everyone – are gone. They say that a curse killed them. I’m leaving Scylanthia and moving to a planet called Bijou Bleu, which is in the Gliese 777A star system. Hopefully, I’ll be okay there. I wanted you to know so that you’ll be careful if . . . I mean, *when* you get back. I hope this message really does reach you. I love you. ::Her sister’s words hit her like a thunderbolt. Alastriona felt a cold tingling sensation dribbling over her body. Her parents, Telfour and Chantel were both dead. All the rest of her family were gone too. She knew that they were dead of course, since they lived a hundred years ago, but to hear the news that they had died prematurely, that they had never had a full life, was too terrible to bear. The shock of it filled her with silence.:: ::Occasionally, she had entertained the thought of trying to contact the descendants of her family, but never did so, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of getting to know her great-great-great-grandchildren. But they had never been born. Or had they?:: DeTroyes: Computer, locate the DeTroyes family on Scylanthia. Computer: There is no one with that surname on Scylanthia. ::Alastriona put her feet on the floor and whirled to face the computer monitor, as if it was another person, listening to her shock and grief. She shook her head. :: DeTroyes: Let’s make it simple. Computer, take my Starfleet file and extrapolate all data for my relations and descendants. Locate any of my living relatives in the Federation. Computer: Working. . . :: Alastriona leaned back in her chair, and looked down on the coastline near the city of Cleeia. She had walked those beaches with her sister, so long ago. . . :: Computer: There are no matches to be found anywhere within the worlds of the Federation. :: It felt like someone had punched her hard in the stomach. Alastriona felt dizziness whirling around and around. Getting up, she grabbed the computer and threw it at the window. :: DeTroyes: NO! ::The monitor bounced off the glass, which had been reinforced against the storms of Scylanthia, to keep out the sometimes poisonous gasses that drifted down from the more dangerous bio-zones above.:: DeTroyes: What happened to them? :: But the computer was silent. It lay in ruin on the floor of her office. :: ::Genevieve’s message had been like a death knell. Was it some kind of disease or was it really some kind of curse, laid onto their family by some angry mystic? Alastriona walked over to a white couch and dropped onto it.:: DeTroyes: Superstition and nonsense. ::If it was some kind of familial plague, was she infected? Could she become infected? How long did she have? Shaking her head, Alastriona didn’t really care if she died. She began to cry. All that her family was, all that her family could have been today, all that they might have been, were gone.:: ::Truly, Alastriona was alone.:: ~*~ Ensign Alastriona De Troyes Science Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239609AD0 ((Disclaimer: All wicked, evil, dastardly comments by Alastriona are purely IC.))
  11. I really enjoy the banter between these two!!
  12. ((Secondary Sickbay – USS Narendra)) Malko: First thing's first, we need to find out how much Fairhug knows - and what the situation is on the bridge. For all we know they could be locked in combat with them now. Termine: Malko, Are you thinking what I'm thinking? ((Deck 2, Jefferies tube – USS Narendra)) Termine: Oh quit your whining, neither of us are equipped for a battle and we seem to have good luck in small tubes. Malko: I hope you know where you're going, the last time I followed you into a Jeffries I landed in hazardous material disposal. Prophets - I sound like B character in a fantasy movie. Also, do we need to crawl? Termine: That's true, it does make me feel a bit like a hamster… But it's our best shot at seeing if Fairhug is on the bridge and keeping safe — Ah! Here it is, the ladder to deck one. come on, keep it up doc, Malko: Why don't you let me peek first, you're still wearing a diplomat uniform - they'd take you hostage on sight. Termine: That's not a bad idea - But hold up one second I think we're nearing the bridge! They were thankfully only a few feet from the bottom of the ladder when the explosion pitched the ship sideways and the two slid off the slick aluminum alloy and into the catwalk below. Geysers of steam puffed intermittently as pressurized energy sources were damaged and diverted. Termine: Holy hell!! they're shooting at us. We need to get out of here! Malko: Stay down - and look for an access panel. Almost galloping on all fours, the counsellor scrambled behind Dante as he combed the well of the tube for some blades of light peeking in from the exterior. Dante swivelled and plunged his boots into the screws of a panel - it's bent form gave way and the officer slid out the hatch. Termine: *cough cough* Err…. Lietuenant JG Dante Termine reporting for duty. sir. Malko could hear Dante speaking to someone, but couldn't make out who it was. Fairhug: ? Termine: Well, just trying to play catch up sir - it looks as if you've got everything sorted out here. Sliding face first out of the hatch onto the bridge carpet, Malko did his best to hold his medical gown shut with one hand and salute with the other. If he only had a third to keep a grasp on his composure... Malko: Ha ha! Yes, sir - we came to make sure you're OK. And now that we see all is fine... Termine: Ah! Sorry, Malko is here too. Not exactly the entrance I wanted to make but, I guess the team's all back together again huh? Fairhug: ? Malko: Yes, it had dawned us we had been infiltrated, too. We had some theories about isolating the breach and getting to the bottom of how this all happened. Termine/Fairhug: ? Malko: With some cross-referencing of ship registry timelines pre and post intervention on the cult attack of Gorn, as we as some more detailed information about the status of the Narendra's Sickbay and its patients at the time of the... incident... we believe we can move to a better understanding of todays' events. Termine/Fairhug: ? Malko nodded at Dante, maybe their shore leave wasn't going to be a break from work after all... Malko: Understandable, we are eager to help anytime. Termine/Fairhug: ? Malko: Thank you, sir. We will leave you be... Termine, we can use my office - I need a change of clothes, anyway. Malko half bowed and gestured to the turbolift, backing out of the controlled chaos that was the bridge. Even in the midst of a crisis, the bridge crew volleyed tasks like a professional sports team - beginning to rebuild Malko's sense of safety he hadn't felt since the crash. ((OOC: wrapping up for shore leave, but we can continue this subject later!) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ LTJG Malko Counsellor Starbase 118 Ops A239508M10
  13. Application accepted... Retraining starts monday. Good to be back, and looking forward to see where I'll end up!

     

  14. The staff of UFOP: SB118 would like to congratulate all who saw their hard work and dedication pay off this month. Please be sure to congratulate these members when you see them around the forums and chat room! EMBASSY Alexander Brodie to Lieutenant Commander Daylan Daroo to Lieutenant JG Quen Deena to Lieutenant Lorian Lovar to Lieutenant Ben Garcia to Lieutenant The post Promotions for September appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  15. Earlier
  16. ((Deck 14 – Secondary Sickbay– USS Narendra)) ::How odd it felt for Ariwyn Vananth, to go from holding a person at arm’s length because she felt the green color of his uniform meant he would be a mindless soldier to speaking at length about trust and violence. She didn’t usually misjudge people – but she also focused her considerable telepathic and empathic intentions on those she negotiated with. This incident made her realize how often she overlooked those who stood beside her, worked behind the scenes or played a side role in each diplomatic affair. Even those she might have dismissed as insignificant she found had a vibrance, depth and intelligence she would not have initially assumed. And somehow she and Daniel Cain had come to an understanding – formed a mutual respect. Each was vulnerable, each was complex and each was strong in different ways. Ariwyn had learned something, and despite the pain she felt she had a calm sense about her, satisfied with her own thoughts.:: Glebben: Oh my, look at you both! Let’s get you inside and patched up! We have open beds for wounded. Come, come! Vananth: Looks like we have an open invitation. Cain: I didn't even know a Ferengi was on board. ::The Ferengi nurse bustled around, generally treating everyone like she was their grandmother and they all needed band-aids, milk and cookies. That was not especially unusual for female Ferengi, especially ones old enough to remember the cultural status quo before Grand Nagus Rom started social reforms.:: Vananth: Well,. I hadn’t expected a Cardassian onboard either. You seem to have a very cosmopolitan crew. ::pause:: She seems nice enough… ::Ariwyn was trying to keep an open mind.:: Cain: There's a Klingon over there. ::That there was. And yet no one was shooting at him. Ariwyn took in a deep breath and closed her eyes.:: Vananth: I do not sense any murder in his mind or heart. There is anger but not hostility. ::Maybe it was one of the diplomatic crew? Or maybe they had Klingon allies? She didn’t know.:: Cain: I'm going to see what's going on. Are you gonna be ok? Vananth: I’ll be OK. Seems like a nice place, they have beds and meds. Cain: I'll be back soon. ::Ariwyn nodded and leaned back, letting the nurse tend her wounds, lost in her own thoughts. How long was she lost? She honestly had no clue, but she must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes it was dim and quiet in the sickbay. She sat up gingerly, finding her shoulder was bandaged and there were regeneration patches stuck to the still healing flesh. It burned, but the searing pain from before was gone. Slowly her eyes focused, and her telepathy reached out. There was someone else in the vicinity. For a moment she was startled.:: Taybrim: ~Careful, the new doctor will come and scold you if you get out of bed…~ ::The thoughts were warm and calming, steady and resolute. She found that surprising for a male.:: Vananth: ~Will you scold me, too?~ Taybrim: ~No.~ ::He moved gingerly inside and sat nearby. He looked tired and she could see regeneration patches on the backs of his hands and the skin by his neck, likely to repair areas kissed by frostbite.:: Taybrim: ~I heard you wanted to see me?~ ::She chuckled a bit in a dry, sarcastic tone:: Vananth: ~I’ve been trying to reach you for a week, Captain. You’re a hard man to reach.~ Taybrim: ~Next time I’ll try not to crash-land before a diplomatic conference.~ ::The two Betazoids locked gazes. Sal had some humor in his eyes as if he was gently teasing her while Ariwyn manged to look admonishing despite the fuzz in her mind from the painkillers.:: Vananth: ~I had wanted to talk with you about the conference, but there is now something far more pressing.~ Taybrim: ~And what is that?~ ::She paused, drawing in a long, slow breath before she reached out a hand towards him.:: Vananth: ~I should not have done it, but as I watched an innocent man fall, blood spilling on the floor, watched others in the line of fire and felt my own shoulder tear open I entered the kind of the cult leader – Klempeth his name was.~ ::Her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.:: Taybrim: ~Honestly you know I cannot judge you. Your role as a daughter of the sixth house is far higher than my role as a Starfleet Captain when matters of telepathy are concerned.~ ::he paused and gently took her hand.:: ~But for what it is worth, I understand what you did.~ Vananth: ~Then will you allow me to share with you what I learned?~ Taybrim: ~What did you learn?~ ::Another deep breath as she steadied herself.:: Vananth: ~I took everything from him. Every thought, every plan, every detail I could grab… I know every infiltrator.~ ::Sal’s gaze hardened. What Ariwyn had done wasn’t considered ethical by Betazoid standards of telepathy. He understood exactly why someone in duress would reach out and crush a mind like Ariwyn had done – her telepathy was far more powerful that Sal’s. Actually it was far more powerful than most of his species, most would not have been able to do so much damage or sift so much from Klempeth’s mind. And now she tempted him with forbidden knowledge. Part of Sal Taybrim wanted to turn her down, to take the moral high ground and reject the ill-gotten information. And yet in doing so he would condemn her after he had already admitted understanding. Part of him would do anything and everything to ensure the safety of his ship, and she was offering him a very tempting key to unlock a passage towards that safety. And he was curious. Dangerously curious.:: Taybrim: ~And now what?~ Vananth: ~I offer to share it with you~ ::And there it was, the devil’s bargain. Sal was not the sort of person to waver on a decision. He picked a course and moved forward.:: Taybrim: ~I accept.~ ::She nodded, understanding the risks, while drawing him closer.:: Vananth: ~prepare your mind for the flood.~ ::Sal Taybrim very rarely dropped his telepathic defenses. He kept his damaged telepathy in check, and even among others of his own species he rarely used telepathy and certainly never lowered his mental shields. But desperate times called for desperate measures. If there was one thing that he would risk the sanctity of his own mind for, it would be a chance to protect his crew. As his mental guards dropped, images flooded in. The thoughts and mind of Klempeth in his last moments poured into his consciousness. Only Ariwyn’s control pulled the floor back to a manageable flow. Sal drew a breath in through his teeth as his mind struggled with the onrush of information and when it was done, both of them were gasping for breath.:: Taybrim: ::after a long pause:: ~I do not envy you, touching this mind firsthand.~ Vananth: ~The sheer hatred and murderous intentions were hard to pierce through. I tried to filter it for you.~ Taybrim: ~for that I thank you.~ ::The sat in silence for several long moments before she releashed his hand.:: Vananth: ~You are tired. You should sleep.~ Taybrim: ~I have too much to process.~ Vananth: ~You should try.~ ::He offered her a faint, hollow smile.:: Taybrim: ~So should you.~ Vananth: ~Then together we will try. Goodnight Captain Sal.~ Taybrim: ~Goodnight Ambassador.~ ~*~ tbc ~*~ Fleet Captain Sal Taybrim Commanding Officer StarBase 118 Ops ~and~ MSNPC Ambassador Ariwyn Vananth Head of Klingon Affairs, Trinity Sector First Daughter of the Sixth House of Betazed "Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must" ~Julian Beck E239010ST0
  17. ((Peshkova Colony, Demilitarised Zone)) ::The upbeat tunes of a whistled song joined the nature sounds, as Graham walked next to the antigrav unit, his eyes on the road, making sure there weren’t any obstacles for the unit to pass. It would be a huge shame if the cart would tumble and all the food stored on it would fall on the dirt road.:: ::In his own personal opinion, he was a bit late, courtesy to his Andorian misses who had insisted to add a few more particular dishes on the cart. But he was lucky, the ship was still there, the silhouette of the Condor Class ship clearly visible. It wasn’t the first time he lay eyes on the ship and as long as the ship was space worthy it wouldn’t be the last.:: ::He kicked a little stone, before he pushed a button on the unit, picking up the pace a bit. He started whistling another merrily song as he approached the open spot in front of the ship, clearing his throat as he looked at the people sitting nearby the remainder of what had been a large campfire last night.:: ::Seeing the flames in the distance the night before had been his and his misses cue to get up early this morning and started preparing breakfast for these folks. They were fighting for a cause he supported and he figured it was the least he could do.:: Graham: Breakfast is served ladies and gentlemen. ::He called out to those at the campfire, already sipping something that was being kept warm at a smaller campfire, looking at their faces and as expected, he recognized a couple of them but there was also at least one new recruit. Not that he bothered to learn their names. Graham knew full well the next time the ship would land, part of the crew would already have been replaced by other faces, other species.:: Graham: We’ve got fresh baked bread, rolls and whatnot. ::Nodding towards the baskets on the side of the cart.:: Take your pick. ::He lifted the different lids from the different food warmers, revealing all different kind of dishes. Baked sausages, bacon and eggs, made from fresh collected goose eggs that very same morning, for those who had to wash away a hangover. A few more lighter and veggie based dishes for the non-carnivores. Yogurt and fresh cheese for those who had a rather sensitive stomach after all the drinking they had done the night before. There was something for everyone.:: ::A loud siren suddenly sounded as he pushed a button on the cart, once he was done with his preparations, a call to those inside the ship, to come and get some non-replicated food in to them, before they went on their way again. Who knew when would be their next well cooked meal.:: ::He took a few steps back and sat down on a big boulder, nodding here and there towards those coming from inside the ship, as he recognized a few faces from people traversing his fields as they went up to the Memorial Rock each time they visited the Colony. They left his crops and fields alone and he respected them for that, while in return he made sure no one was doing any harm upon the shrines setup on Memorial Rock in their absence.:: ::Graham leaned back, he felt like he owed these people something. It was only thanks to them, he knew what had happened with his son. Contrary to many others who had children out there fighting for the cause, he knew what had become of him, while other parents would never find out their offspring were still alive or not. And ever since that day he and his misses had promised each other to serve breakfast to the crew each time they visited. As if he was paying off a debt, he knew he didn't have.:: Farmer Graham Food/Breakfast Provider Sympathiser to the Cause Simmed by: Lieutenant Samira Neathler Assistant Chief of Security USS Gorkon G239508SN0
  18. This month’s podcast goes into Sickbay with questions for our medical officers: Voiceover and editorial contributions were provided by Lieutenant Junior Grade Groznin Smith, Lt Commanders Genkos Adea, Geoffrey Teller, Solok, and German Galven. Video edited by Lt. Commander German Galven. The post I’m a Doctor, not a video editor… check out the “Ask a Doctor” Podcast! appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  19. Trying to get back into the community. My Forum account is still operational it seems... Gonna make a longer go of it this time, and start anew. I've missed this place immensely...

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. Deven Nehir

      Deven Nehir

      You are correct. And I've gone for a post I've not attempted before. Counselor...

    3. Jarred Thoran

      Jarred Thoran

      Oh boy I feel sorry for which ever ship you end up - especially if the counselor is anything like Mandak :)

      Seriously though, glad to have you back with us and hope to see you around soon :D

    4. Deven Nehir

      Deven Nehir

      Aye aye. I see you've been busy yourself...

  20. Please welcome our newest Academy graduate to the UFOP: StarBase 118 fleet: Saju Uma! The post New Academy Graduate appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  21. Post totals are seeing a slight downturn in sim counts for the month as the touch of Autumn weather signifies the coming of a number of events and holidays. In September we saw a fleet average of 174 sims per ship, for a total of 1563. Historically, this time of year is when many of us are gearing up for the next few months, which can be quite chaotic for some. This month, the USS Atlantis leads the pack with 259 sims written. Following a bit behind, with 200 sims, is the USS Astraeus, making strides to come from only 131 last month. Right behind them comes the Veritas, falling to third from their pretty big lead last month. Check out some of the highlights of this past month’s simming through our Appreciations forum, where you and your fellow members can nominate sims, great quotes, and other memorable moments for the rest of the fleet to enjoy! The post September 2019 Post Counts appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  22. I actually almost feel bad for him. He isn't actually guilty of treason. Just being an absolute tool... And everyone on the Atlantis just keeps being so damn mean to him...😆
  23. Each year, we run a contest to see which crew can come up with the best avatar themes for the forums, like “Nightmare Before Christmas,” or “Mugshots,” or “Sesame Street.” A set of judges from every crew in the fleet determines the best based on originality and design. This year’s 9th annual contest has already begun, so if you haven’t yet checked-in to your forum thread, be sure to get that doon soon! Click here to learn more and find the instructions on how to change your avatar to your crew’s theme. The post Our 9th Annual Halloween Avatar Contest is underway appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  24. Just have to say, I think I speak for all of us Atlanteans when I say he's never been more deserving of a punch in the face. Or being beamed into space. Great job as always @Kiliak Jo ((ooc: I offered to write for the incomparable Mr. Perkins some months ago, so I figure I'm up. Uh, obviously I love you all, but I'm writing as Mr. Perkins below, so... rest assured it's all in good fun... I recommend you go easy on the tags ahead though, I'm not trying to upstage your mission with 'local knowledge' if you get my drift)) ((Guest Quarters, USS Atlantis)) Out the window of his cramped, temporary quarters, Lt. Commander Perkins stared at the broken shape of the place he called home and watched the flurry of frantic traffic buzzing away from it. He sipped his water, then shook his head and rubbed at his shoulder, rotating the cuff -- at times it still ached from the heroic shot he had suffered in the line of duty on that fateful day months ago. That nurse they employed on board, the insufferably bubbly Avy or whatever, kept saying she could find nothing wrong with it now, but what did that prove besides a distinct inability to do her job? Serala: =/\= Serala to Lieutenant Commander Perkins. Report to Main Shuttlebay on the double. And bring standard equipment for an away mission, including a Type II Phaser. We launch in 30 minutes. =/\= Perkins: =/\= I am at your service and so pleased to be invited. And I'm even to be allowed a phaser. Capital. =/\= It only further proved his case of how fundamentally lazy, how abundantly incompetent the Atlantis crew was that they could be expected to layabout for half an hour before embarking on such a crucial mission as saving his home station. He endeavored therefore to arrive in half the allotted time just to make a point, and of course, he succeeded. Perkins: First assigned to live under Romulan space and now here I am serving under a Romulan. Never thought I'd see the day, but life is full of surprises, isn't it? Serala: Let me be perfectly clear. I don’t like you and I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you - and trust me I would like to find out how far that is - but you did serve on this station and so your knowledge of it is going to be important to me. You’re coming with us, but I will be keeping a very close eye on you. Be careful, Commander. I am just looking for a reason to throw you in the brig. I still think you have been involved with almost everything that has happened to us since even before the bot attack. Perkins maintained the inscrutable yet undeniably attractive expression he preferred to wear. He had already been confined to quarters twice since arriving aboard, once on some trumped-up charges from a jealous officer and later due to the impossibly-thin skin of an Atlantis crewmember after all he had tried to do was offer some helpful and constructive criticism. Such frequent and flagrant displays of Atlantean stupidity reminded him of a conversation he had once shared with a colleague, that perhaps incompetence was the most perfect cover-up for acts against the Federation. Perkins: My oh my. Serious charges. I'm sure that such a professional and... charming Starfleet officer such as yourself would not offer these creative conspiracy theories without a substantial body of -::ahem:: proof? Serala: No, I can’t prove anything. And that is why you are still walking free and wearing that uniform. And as long as you are, you will conduct yourself in a manner appropriate to a Starfleet officer. And for now, that means helping us on this mission. Perkins: Despite your personal attacks, I will of course be the better man and offer you my full and invaluable support, ::he counted her pips:: ...Lieutenant Commander? oO Really? Starfleet isn't the organization it used to be. Oo Serala: Very good. How many times had he and his team helpfully gone the extra light-year to patch up this sorry excuse of a ship after the merry band aboard saw fit to go gallivanting off into another speck of trouble? This was his thanks. He rubbed the nose of his bridge to stave off another of the headaches he'd been suffering since unceremoniously being forced aboard. He couldn't decide whether the problem here was either a shallow-minded ingratitude or an utter lack of discipline, probably both. Honestly, he wouldn't be all too surprised if these "rescue operations" ended with his station being blown to smithereens. More space trash to float about the Expanse. At that moment, the rest of the assault team entered the bay and he could hear the heavy thumping footprints of some neanderthal stomping over from the shuttle area. Logan: What is he doing here ? Perkins turned and looked over the somewhat-smaller-than-expected marine-clad buffoon, scanning him up and down as he puffed out his chest like a gorilla and pointed. He couldn't recall if they had ever met before. He also couldn't particularly care. Perkins: A little thing called "my duty." Perhaps you've heard of the concept, Mr...? Logan: QUIET! You lost the right to speak a long time ago ! oO And you seem to have rather lost the ability. Oo Serala: As you were, Captain Logan! He’s coming with us. Logan: I'd trust a first year cadet more than him any day. Perkins: That's little cause to behave like one. Logan: I SAID QUIET !!! Serala: ENARRAIN LOGAN, FAEHOR IUT’FEHILL TEMOHRIE AIHR’RRHAAREVHA!! (CAPTAIN ...STAND DOWN AND THAT IS AN ORDER!!) The grumpy Romulan and the Marine with the loose screw stared each other down for a moment. Perkins checked the time. Was this how the new Captain Torham intended to run a ship? Brell was not ideal, but this... Perkins could not understand why Starfleet Command had not elected to select his own commission from the pool of applicants to serve as the new Atlantis Captain and whip these fools into shape at last. But looking around, he considered now whether he had been in fact blessed by being passed over. oO Honestly, they can hardly board a shuttle without a fight breaking out. Oo Serala: He is coming with us, Captain and that is final. I trust this will not be a problem for you? Logan:: Turning his gaze back to the Engineer:: No Ma'am. I won’t let the cause of our problem prevent me from helping to fix it. Kiax: Apologies for my tardiness. I had to show our new crewmate here the way to the shuttlebay… ::She said, jokingly.:: Whatever he did or did not do isn’t our problem right now. Let’s just get underway and sort the blame later. We’ve got a planet to save… The Marine Captain pushed his way through the pair of hot tempers and turned on the unhinged soldier, who didn't seem inclined to back down. McKnight: Captain Logan, stand down. You're speaking to a superior officer. Perkins: And so at last, welcome Miss Kix. Do you have no need to voice a problem against my presence here as well? ::Perkins remembered Shadydust from her role cross-examining him as Killiak's Advocate, and he had read in the crew sheets about the transfer of the Kix symbiont into this young, supposedly "brilliant" Trill. But if Durrmont was any indication, "brilliant" had an entirely different meaning aboard this ship.:: Kiax: No Sir, I’m just eager to get underway. The longer we spend arguing about what got us here, the less time we have to get myself, and SOUL here, to the station’s computer core and figure out a way to get it back to where it belongs. Logan: Response Captain McKnight turned back to Serala. McKnight: Commander, we have a mission to get started on. Best not to keep my men antsy Serala: You’re correct, Captain. I just needed to make sure everyone here understands were all on the same team. If anyone...anyone! … feels that they can’t work within those guidelines they should leave now. Anyone? No? Good. The two Marines had a little talk, probably about what exactly the process of a court martial would look like after assaulting a superior. The paranoid Romulan gave them a few minutes to finish, then decided they had waited long enough. Serala: ALRIGHT! LOAD UP! DEPARTURE IN TWO MINUTES. YHFEV! (MOVE IT!) Perkins: Finally. After you, gentlemen. Chop chop. Hero-work to do. ---------------------------------------------- Lt. Commander Perkins Engineer at Large Deep Space 26 A239509KJ0 ---------------------------------------------- courtesy of ---------------------------------------------- Lieutenant Kiliak Jo Asst. Chief Engineer USS Atlantis A239509KJ0 -----------------------------------------------
  25. On a Starfleet ship or station – especially in the days before replicators and advanced food synthesizers – one of the most valuable members of the crew is the ship’s chef. The crew works best if there are a variety of quality dishes available in the mess hall. Just take a look at Deep Space Nine: The promenade was full of restaurants for the crew to choose from. Whether you would rather join Bashir and Garak for lunch at the Replimat, visit Quark’s, or make your own meals like Captain Sisko, there is a dining option for you. Even in the age of replicators, creating ready-to-serve meals out of thin air there is still a preference for food made from scratch. People are willing to forgo the convenience of a replicator for a home-cooked meal. A real chef and a dining establishment to supplement a mess hall full of replicators can still benefit a 24th century ship or station. But who would you pick to be your ship’s chef? There are no shortage of chefs with culinary experience, both Starfleet and civilian. Some of them are restaurateurs full-time, while others just see cooking as a hobby or skill. If you had your own ship, who would you ask to keep the galley on your ship running smoothly and producing good food? Do you think that your crew is tough enough to survive Leola Root everything? Maybe you would prefer to see Sisko’s Creole Kitchen open a location on your ship. Who would you choose to run your ship’s mess hall? Click here to head to the forums now and vote in this week’s poll. Be sure to leave a comment in the thread! The post Poll of the Week: Bon Appétit appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  26. Sensational sim and world building @Tahlin Alse. //Begin Message: Recipient: Lieutenant Commander Chambui Lkhagvasuren, USS Shinano I did not have the best introduction to Ketar V. As I'm sure you've now read about or seen on the news the local liaison officer was murdered and by one of his own officers. That's a major scandal in of itself but alas it didn't end or even start there. Commander Armin Illanos was not what you'd call a model officer, the list of his crimes is so long that one might wonder if his murder in the end was justifiable but I have neither the time nor the inclination to recount his misdeeds here. After that though, it hardly got better. Lieutenant Teller decided to try and remedy the situation of the Romulan refugees in one of their slums, their tenement having caught fire before my arrival during a CCMS raid that nearly devolved into a riot. Chambui I thought Meridian was bad but seeing children, children! in the shadows of burned out buildings with so much... dust in the air it reminded me of what I've been forced to see before. They're trapped, hopelessly so. Yes, after a few days we were able to do a little urban renewal, which is more than I could say happened on Meridian but it feels altogether different here. What happens on Meridian is a tragedy, what's going on, on Ketar V seems... criminal. We take care of refugees in the Federation. My parents, the Bajorans on Maravel, so many others, they didn't have it easy and of course they faced discrimination but I don't think I'd ever see a group of people just... abandoned to the elements, content to let whatever illness they see in what these people represent fester until it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. I don't... I don't know. I'm amazed that's all I have to say at the end of it but there it is. It's enough to make you question a lot though. I've seen what happens when the might of the Federation's humanitarian largess comes to bear on a problem, how much concerted effort can achieve on such a massive scale and yet here, in one little corner on one little planet, they are content in their apathy, sufficed to surrender their responsibility to their fellow man. Unfortunately I've come to learn how many resources such charity requires, even on a small scale. Lieutenant Teller cleaned out the cargo bays, what was left of them, with his scheme, which of course in my sentimental state I allowed. Yes, let's call it sentiment, let's say that was my motivation. Of course we're light years away from the nearest Starbase or supply depot so guess who had the task of securing, individually, all of the quantities of supplies we needed? That's right? This guy, yours truly. Please don't think I'm complaining though, well I am but not in the way you think. It was daunting sure and as it turns out organizing accurate shipping and receiving times in the Shoals is almost impossible but I kind of liked it as my first challenge onboard. I know you're going to say that's hindsight, nostalgia always has been a fatal flaw of mine, but I actually came to enjoy it, crossing off items on the list and hey I have staff to help me carry and unload it. I also got to meet some really interesting people, do a bit of networking that I'm sure will be useful in future. One of these encounters I'm sure you'll appreciate. Do you remember that trip to New Zealand we took for spring-break my sophmore year to practice our Maori? Well as it turns out like Esperance most of the Humans on Ketar V come from Oceania. In Ketar V's western hemisphere Maori and other Polynesian languages are dominant, alongside English of course, just like New Zealand but it was nice to understand both halves of a bilingual society. Still, my cultural literacy didn't help me much in this case... (( Te Ranga, Te Ranga Authority, Selwyna Region, Ketar V )) Tahlin looked out the window over the Te Ranga cityscape, like most of Ketar V it was dominated by megalithic pre-fab colonial structures but here visaged in a striking alabaster white, which against the deep blue of the ocean and the vibrant greens of the rolling hills of the shoreline of the Bay made it a paradise compared to the dry desert steppe of Centennial City, or anywhere else Tahlin could think of for that matter. Such a striking landscape was worthy of the place so many of these men and women's ancestors had left centuries ago and having seen the motherland for himself, Tahlin could see why so many of the colonists from New Zealand opted for the lush, continental atmosphere of western Ketar V, in contrast to the vastness of the east which knew only the suffocating humidity of the tropics or the dry wisps of the desert plains. It reminded him of where he had been born on Maravel. Aixa was more truly Continental, Te Ranga was pleasantly Maritime all year round but all things considered it was a convincing facsimile. Turei: Prince Tahlin Aiolande Alse, blood of Vytogoreds and Iseldt, of the blood of Vertomacher and Bondochar, Panna of Phraatia and Grandee of all the Isles, bearer of the Seventh Coat of Arms and the Bordered Blue Banner and now a Starfleet Officer, tell me where does "Ensign" fit in to your menagerie of titles? Tahlin's face was marble. All life had slowly peeled away from it as he was addressed by names and titles he had never once used altogether. Most of those styles weren't even in his Starfleet record, you would need an almanac of El-Aurian royalty and high nobility for them and somehow Tahlin didn't think they were being printed, much less updated anymore. Lifelessly and mechanically his head turned towards the dusky skinned man in a sharp suit to match his selfsame tongue. Instinctively he smiled, as he had trained himself to do, though he was nowhere near at ease. Alse: Military honors and rank usually come first but etiquette and protocol vary of course. At the other end of the room was Ransom Turei, perhaps the second wealthiest man on Ketar V, though he was sure to attain the prime position before the year was out. He was the owner of the Torutaimana Group, a conglomerate of banks, trading groups, light and heavy industries and even a notable entertainment concern. But despite the... impressive introduction he had lavished on Tahlin, this was not a social call. Located in one of those many holding companies, divisions and myriad subsidiaries was the Chokonu corporation, which manufactured bio-neural gel-packs. Civilian Grade though they were, they were rated for Starfleet use and Tahlin needed them, only there had been... complications in securing his request for the parts. Turei: :: Pressing his lips into a bemused smile.:: Quite... He looked Tahlin up and down for a moment, sizing up his counterpart like he would in any business negotiation or so Tahlin assumed, he had the unnerving feeling that Mr. Turei knew a great deal more about him than was typically possible, or appropriate. Alse: I thank you for taking the time to see me Mr. Turei, though I admit I was surprise that... :: Tahlin walked closer to the man as he rounded his desk before he put a silencing hand up.:: Turei: You've been busy Ensign Alse, and it's not everyday we get a request from Starfleet to supply them. You're bound to make a similar request at some point in the future and with the recent unpleasantness involving your people :: He made a tsking noise.:: I thought we should meet in person. :: He took a seat but did not gesture for Tahlin to take one.:: Alse: Well, I'm flattered by such personal interest in our supply matters. Turei leaned back in his chair and tented his hands as he lifted his feet to rest on the top of his desk. Turei: Don't be. :: He said curtly but with a smile.:: Tahlin stood there for a moment, a smile turning on his own face, unable to come up with a response to the man's attitude. Alse: I don't mean to presume or offend... Turei: Let me be straight with you. :: He cut off Tahlin once again, this time without his dismissive hand raising.:: I don't like Starfleet. I think you're a bunch of overactive priers despite you're policy of 'non-interference'. That was hardly an uncommon attitude, especially here in the Shoals, one Tahlin had braced himself for, he just hadn't expected to come up against it being displayed so brazenly in the civilized, sanitized halls of a corporate office. Turei: You play at being explorers, peacekeepers, humanitarians. the military and yet you fail at being all of them, and the rest of us have to make up for your mistakes and the gaps in your... interests. Tahlin merely pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, trying to seem intrigued or at the very least bemused at the man's pontificating he would no doubt need to suffer through. Turei: It's why we don't take military contracts, though of course you're just asking for a single shipment of supplies. Bio-neural gel packs, something you can't replicate and yet are essential to the operations of your starship's systems, part of me wonders what happens when a starship runs out but the Federation has a reputation for technical prowess, it's probably nothing but a minor inconvenience to you. Still I'm at a loss as to why I should break my principles and supply you with these gel packs when one stop at one of your Starbases could clear everything up. Tahlin moved to speak but Turei cut him off again. He seemed intent on this being a monologue, not a conversation. Turei: Right, right we're isolated out here and I'm guessing you don't have time to drudge back and forth across our little region of space, especially when the supplies you need happen to be here already. Solution seems obvious doesn't it? Only instead of just fulfilling your request and sending you on to whatever gaseous anomaly or kittens-stuck-in-trees your Command deems more pressing you're dragged half-way across the planet to meet with me. :: He pulled his hands apart and tilted his head back.:: Now that you're here though I'm still forced to ask the question, why should I help you? Tahlin knew better than to try and formulate a response and Turei smirked. Turei: Austerity, such a refreshing emotion here on Ketar V. :: Leaning back in his chair, making a show of searching his mind.:: Aguda Township, Aixa Autonomous Banner that's on Maravel right? You know how to kow-tow? The pause was longer than before but Tahlin still wasn't going to take the bait and try to answer. Turei: Seems a little medieval if you ask me. // Oh he likes the sound of his own voice, Mr. Turei, though I don't suppose you get to where he is without the slightest bit of megalomania. It was interesting, growing up on Cardassia, living among a people who love to talk and being from a race of listeners. You tend to learn a lot, you learn that there's no such thing as idle conversation. Not that my encounter with Mr. Turei was a conversation but as much as he seemed to know about me he seemed to forget that El-Aurians are a race of listeners and whatever he was trying to subject me to by his sermon was nothing I wasn't equipped to deal with. While I entered the meeting at a supreme disadvantage, just by hearing him talk I was able to level the field, learn more about him than what he was so freely offering to me. Turei: Well you've been a good enough sport and It's getting late so why don't you and I make a deal yeah? I'll give you your bio-neural gel packs, call it generosity or whatever you like, for me it's just a tax credit. Tahlin merely nodded and smiled in appreciation. Turei: Practice, practice, can't imagine what discipline silence takes. :: He smiled and pulled his feet down from his desk.:: You're gel packs should be awaiting transport to your ship Ensign Alse, why don't you go see to it. Tahlin bowed from the neck in both agreement and deference to Mr. Turei's largess, briskly turning on his heel to walk to the end of the room and be done with this encounter. Turei: Oh Ensign! Tahlin stopped but did not turn around. Turei: Make sure you've ordered enough yeah? They might not be in stock next time you ask. Tahlin merely exhaled and walked through the office doors, letting his footfalls clamor against the floor as he made his way towards the lift. He would be happy to not see anything or anyone in this building ever again, but that left the question of where he was going to get supplies the next time. // On Ketar V the thing that seems to drive people, strange as it may sound seems to be their complacency, their apathy, their need to have things exactly as they are or as they were. It's not nostalgia for the past exactly it's like nostalgia for the present, only no one seems to see it exactly how it is. The planet has fallen behind the other colonies, social problems abound and yet everyone seems placated. On Meridian there was a reason for this: prosperity elsewise. On Ketar V there is none of that and yet there is an impetus for things to remain exactly how they were or are and everything that doesn't figure into that image of the way things are is ignored. It's a curious place, and not one I'm keen to see again for a good long while. END Ensign Tahlin Alse Operations Officer USS Veritas Writer ID: C239305TA0
  27. Thankyou Mr @Geoffrey Teller ! You original sim gave the opportunity to "let loose" and write this sim
  28. @Quinn Reynolds Got to love Brunsig's insight on the Gorkon's crew. 🙂 ((Courtyard, Reichsburg Cochem, Earth)) ::On her own for a few minutes, Quinn searched the crowd for her absent partner. She spied him after a short while; talking to Stoyer and Tereen and looking none too pleased about it. Like her, he wasn't someone who ever felt particularly at ease in large gatherings — and unlike her, he tended to express that in a very particular way. She considered wandering over to rescue him from the well-wishers, but he was perfectly capable of extracting himself if that was indeed what he wanted to do. ::That, and her attention had been captured by another of their guests. The Trill approaching her was a lovely woman, tall like her father, with his kind brown eyes and gentle smile. Falls of copper hair flowed, the tan of her markings stark against pale skin across her bare shoulders and shins. The knee-length blue dress was lovely, simple in design with beaded accents on the bodice and near the hemline.:: Reynolds: I wasn't sure you'd come. Tam: I think Dad would haunt me if I didn't. ::Quinn smiled at her, the expression coloured with a touch of sorrow, one that was echoed in the other woman's eyes. Kael had been gone for years now, and every once in a while, that wound felt as raw as the first day. Times like this, when she would have loved to shared her happiness with a dear friend. Instead, she was sharing it with his daughter.:: Reynolds: I think that's a distinct possibility. ::Aimi laughed, a smile coming as easily to her as it always had her father. Warm brown eyes travelled across the reception, the guests and then back to Quinn.:: Tam: He would have liked to have been here. Reynolds: I'm very pleased that you are. ::Quinn hadn't know the girl well, prior to the Gorkon's misadventure into another universe. She'd known of her, of course, but it was only after their return and Kael's death that she'd come to know Aimi. They'd kept in contact; at first just exchanging memories of Kael to help one another with their grief, but over time it had evolved into conversations about what they were doing in the there and now.:: Reynolds: How's the academy going? Tam: Hard work, but you already know that. ::She smiled.:: Graduation seems altogether too close and too far away. ::Having parted ways from Tereen and Stoyer — who, Quinn observed, had left the conversation with a face filled with thunder — Walter drew up beside her, his hand touching briefly to the small of her back and then coming to rest on her hip. He eyed the Trill Quinn was speaking to, then dipped his head in a curt nod of greeting.:: Brunsig: Aimi. ::She smiled back at him, and there in her eyes was the knowing look of good humour that Kael had so often worn. It pinched at Quinn's heart, and the hybrid couldn't quite tell if she liked or loathed it.:: Tam: Good to see you outside of a cell. ::He huffed, a rare and quiet sound of wry amusement, one corner of his mouth tugging upward. Walter regarded her for a long moment, then shook his head.:: Brunsig: You are annoyingly like your father. Tam: ::She smiled warmly at him.:: Thank you. Brunsig: Case in point. ::Cutting in to their repartee, Quinn nudged Walter with her shoulder. Tall as he was, she could still see her mission specialist through the crowds, and from his taut body language she got the sense he was still stewing over whatever had been exchanged between the two.:: Reynolds: What did you say to Stoyer? Brunsig: "For what", "now that tedious social obligation is completed, off you trot", "disperse". ::He ticked off each of the sentences with an extended thumb and fingers. Quinn sighed, shaking her head. On the Brunsig Scale of Rude that was relatively mild, but she could see how Stoyer might have been embarrassed by it.:: Reynolds: You infuriated him in three sentences. That must be a record. Brunsig: I'm a high achiever, Cupcake. ::He shrugged, not caring in the least.:: But my personal best is one. ::Of that she had no doubt. He smirked at her, his steel-blue gaze flickering out among the crowd, locating Stoyer and Tereen. They'd been joined by Neathler, and given the glances sent in his direction, it seemed for at least for a time the topic of conversation was Walter. He did have a tendency to set himself up for it, sometimes even delighted doing so, but the idea he was being sniped about at his own wedding reception made a leaden stone settle in her stomach.:: Brunsig: He knows exactly who I am, Quinn, he knew exactly what to expect. It wasn't about me, that was all for the next ex-wife he had in tow. ::He [...]ed his head to the side, pouting his lips in mock sympathy.:: "Oh, poor Cory. Wasn't the mean, bad man so very mean and bad. Let me kiss your... ego... better." ::He rolled his eyes.:: I only gave him what wanted. ::Aimi bit her lip, though Quinn couldn't quite tell if she was holding back a laugh or disapproval. Quinn was swallowing down a mix of both, knowing she shouldn't find it funny and yet was struggling to keep a straight face. From the sly curl at the corner of Walter's lips, he damn well knew it, too.:: Reynolds: Yes. Well. ::She cleared her throat.:: Now that you're done playing the Curmudgeonly Cupid— ::The music on the stage drew their collective attention. Where there had been the soft melodies of a string quartet, there was now the ring of plucked harp strings accompanying the piano, in a somewhat eerie choice of key; F# Major, if she wasn't mistaken. A few bars in, the harpist's voice joined the instruments, and she heard an impatient sigh erupt from the blonde standing next to her.:: Brunsig: Is there a single member of your crew who isn't determined to make our wedding reception about them? ::Perhaps it was starting to feel a little bit like that, what with congratulations quickly shifting into tales of missing sons, lovers tiffs and outrage at Walter acting like Walter. She absently toyed with the neckline of her dress, recognising the words of the song. They reminded her of Harry, who'd been known to quote Tennyson when they'd been a couple, and that drew out an awkward smile. He was at the party, somewhere, tactfully keeping out of Walter's path as he minded Amelia and Dylan.:: Reynolds: He did ask if he could play something. ::Truth be told, the reception was for just about everyone but them. They were private people, neither of whom enjoyed the fuss. Initially, they'd both been leaning toward a quiet ceremony and dinner to celebrate afterwards — if that. But there were family and friends who expected (and in some cases, demanded) the chance to celebrate. As strident as both could be in command, sometimes it was just easier to take the path of least resistance in personal affairs. Enduring one uncomfortable evening was easier than weeks, months or even years of earache for not having one at all. ::And so they had compromised. A quiet ceremony for them, and a big reception to keep everyone else happy.:: Brunsig: Well, once Boy Wonder up there has finished murdering his harp, would you like to dance? If we're lucky it'll keep the well-wishers away for a few minutes. Reynolds: That's why I married you. Walter Brunsig, the eternal optimist. ::His gaze snapped away from her, toward the copper-haired young woman who was grinning at them both. Holding up a warning finger, he raised an eyebrow in the Trill's direction.:: Brunsig: Don't do it, Tam. Tam: I can't help it. You are kind of adorable together. ::Quinn chuckled, even as Walter let loose an exasperated sigh. At the dying notes of Xerix's song, he dropped his hand from her waist, catching her fingers between his. As their fingers entangled, so too did their thoughts, and she was buffeted by a complicated mix of affection, insecurity, devotion and frustration. Stealing a little while together without interruptions, even if it was only for the length of a song, was something they both needed.:: Reynolds: At the risk of being more adorable, would you excuse us, Aimi? I'd like to dance with my husband. Tam: There's a few people here I'd like to say hello to. ::She just kept grinning at the pair, beginning her retreat.:: Enjoy. ::Quinn breathed a quiet laugh and squeezed Walter's hand, walking alongside him to join the other dancers. With a sly smile, he lifted their hands as they stepped onto the dance floor, turning her in a languid spin before drawing her close, the two musicians finding the rhythm with ease.:: -- Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds Commanding Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0
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