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Look, @Leenaya Edrei is a good writer and @LCDR Aine O. Sherlock is about to fire her. Very rude. Not demure. (( Sickbay, Deck 10, USS Chin'toka )) Sherlock: It's about the mission. I ::beat:: think we should talk about it. Edrei: Oh, the mission? Of course. Has this anything to do about the triage protocol we put in place? She’d thought it was pretty good, even though being cut off from the transporters had made their task harder, and they always could get better. But even still, everything had worked as it was supposed to. Sherlock: Uh ::beat:: no. That was fine. This was to do with casualties. Or was it about the paperwork? Oh no, she was late on that task. Edrei: ::pointing to her PADD:: I’m still working on the report. The number of wounded we took care of is through the roof. Sherlock: I'm all too familiar with those kinds or reports. Sometimes they seem never ending. She stayed focused on the mission’s logistics, completely missing the weight behind Sherlock’s words. Edrei: I totally underestimated the amount of paperwork. But it’ll be done soon, I promise. Sherlock: That's ::beat:: good. But I'm here to talk about a specific casualty. Edrei: Of course. Who? Sherlock: In Doctor Kel's report, he mentioned the guy we found. And that he didn't make it… Oh no… How had she not seen this coming? Edrei: Um… yes? What about him? She tried to hide her nervousness as best she could. She didn’t need her First Officer to know just how badly she’d failed as a doctor. Sherlock: I'm trying to say ::beat:: I guess… She paused, stressing Lee out. Sherlock taking in a deep breath like that was clearly the sign that she had something important to tell her. Was she about to get discharged from Starfleet for letting a man die on her second mission? No, no, that was irrational, they wouldn’t do that. …But would they? Maybe they’d found that she could have done more, and- Sherlock: Let's go get some coffee. ::gesturing to the steaming mug:: A better cup of coffee. I'll probably be more articulate in a more comfortable setting. She nodded uneasily, biting her lip. She really couldn't say where this discussion was going (except leading toward her being fired), but she didn’t like it very much at the moment. Edrei: Um, sure. Lead the way, Commander. (( Brew Continuum, Deck 10, USS Chin’toka )) The walk to the Brew Continuum wasn’t long, but somehow it helped Lee relax—at least a little. If she really was getting discharged it surely wouldn’t happen there. She would have been called into Sherlock’s office instead, right? Still, the anxiety gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how quiet the lounge was. While she was relieved she wouldn’t be fired in front of the whole crew, she couldn’t help but dread the idea of it happening here, in this almost empty, too-intimate setting. They sat at an empty table before placing their orders. Lee considered getting another coffee, but given the amount she’d already drunk in the last few hours and her racing heart, she settled for some jasmin tea and hasperat instead. Edrei: My best friend at the Academy and I, we used to eat this weekly. Jasmin tea is my favourite, and she made one hell of a hasperat. She mentally cringed. Here she was, spilling her life story to her soon-to-be former First Officer, who likely had no interest in it and was probably just waiting for the right moment to inform her she’d be off the ship at the next stop. Being dismissed after only two missions, that was likely a new record. The absolute shame. Sherlock: Response She couldn’t stand the oppressive silence any longer, and she took a deep breath before asking the dreaded question. Edrei: I’m getting fired, aren’t I? I mean, it makes sense. He didn’t make it, and I’m the one responsible. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be here. But I really didn’t want to let everyone down, I promise, and- Sherlock: Response Interrupted in her ramble, she looked at Sherlock in shock, not believing what she just said. Edrei: Wait, I… I’m not? What do you mean I’m not fired? Sherlock: Response Tags/TBC

I could feel the level of vitriol that @TAma put into this MSNPC that was caught and is sitting in the Chin'toka's freshly repaired brig.

So, on our most recent mission, there's been an ongoing joke OOC about it being "quiet" and "no pew pew" (as we are well acquainted with action-y missions aboard the Artemis). As such, the twists that people have thrown in have been a lot less "phaser"-y, and I wanted to highlight one of my favorites, written in by none other than the ever-wonderful @Vitor S. Silveira (with a dash of @Gila Sadar writing for her MSNPC). I think it's a really clever and fun way to add in some tension and a huge twist, as well as to introduce some doubt in the minds of one of our more antagonistic MSNPCs, without ever drawing a phaser!

Loving this gem commentary from our CO @Tony, aka Rouiancet.

Well, Ronin, here our boy @Marty Tucker is in charge of the next party once we get back into the ships. No questions allowed

@Alyndra Syrex you're paying that out of your pocket lady 😂

Epic tales about the pizza party would be told, it'll be the pizza saga XD @LuxaLorana

The context here is that one of the teams on this mission found themselves in an ancient bathroom in B'hala, and this is a list of all the ways people have labeled the locations in their sims about it 😂 from the various sims of @Karrod Niac, @Quentin Beck, @Toryn Raga, and our ensign Tess Evinrude. Niac- ((The Most Ancient & Revered Public Toilet, B’Hala Excavation Site, Kendra Provence, Bajor)) Raga- ((Ye Olde Privy, B’Hala Excavation Site, Kendra Provence, Bajor)) Evinrude- ((A Treasure Trove of Ancient Plumbing Tips, B’Hala Excavation Site, Kendra Provence, Bajor)) Beck- ((The Real Life Equivalent of a DnD Game Where Everyone Is Rolling a Critical Fail, B’Hala Excavation Site, Kendra Provence, Bajor))

@Alyndra Syrex This made me snort.

Lhandon and Morro typically have quite a fun, almost comedic dynamic at times. The two of them are the biggest 'himbro-gymbros' and their scenes more often than not place them in the gym, working out, sharing perhaps a singular brain cell and "getting them gains bruv." So what happens when we take this format and turn it on its head? We started this scene like we start any other gym scene, in the gym, except this time there was something off. Lhandon discovers that Morro is upset and goes to talk to him. This sim is a few rounds into the scene and Morro opens up to Lhandon, as he's just found out that he's been manipulated not just by a complete stranger in the mission, which is bad enough, but also by someone Morro should be able to trust implicitly. This entire scene was Vio's idea and he's run with it to make a scene that's such an emotional gut punch. I have been thinking about this sim all day. Please do enjoy this brilliant piece of writing from @Morro Caras

@Jania Nis helping me pass my Klingon biology like:

Most of us love a good medical drama, and it's even better when we get to learn more about procedures for different species. In this JP, we get a really nitty-gritty look into Trill medicine as our engineer lies on the biobed following a massive injury sustained during the last mission. I also know from Discord that Nick and Zac have poured so much thought, love, care, and research into this JP, ensuring all the little details are accurate and creating a story grounded in realism and a joy to read. We are also introduced to a brand-new PNPC, Vivien Thomas, who, as I learned today, is named after a famous African-American surgical technician who developed a pioneering technique for heart surgery in babies. @Jania Nis @Kimonzi Lahl

T'Ama definitely has a point...

You know the mission is good when the sims that are produced are absolutely top shelf. This sim is such a thrill. @Jania Nis

Fun fact: both of those examples are based on people I know!

Can't believe I missed this gem from @TAma's sim on my first read

Melissa did a fantastic job bringing this MSNPC to life!!! (( The Brig, Deck 11, USS Chin’toka )) Hwi, kre, sei. Haeiul. Mne, rhi, fve. Haeiul. Lli, the, lhi. Haeiul. Dha, dha’hwi, dha’kre. Haeiul. 1 Twelve steps brought her around the perimeter of her cell and back to the beginning. She had scoured every inch of the gleaming space for some sort of weakness, and her elation at having found a loose panel had been immediately dashed when it turned out to just be a toilet. She had even tried to crawl behind the toilet - a highly embarrassing maneuver that had no doubt amused the Starfleet security guards immensely. Conjuring the delightful sound of the gurgling they would make when she slit their throats brought a smile to her face. Her pacing stilled as she walked into the brig. The captain. Serala. She studied the painfully generic beauty of the woman’s face, the milquetoast ridges barely visible on her brow. It was one and the same with the picture she’d seen in the file on the region - that was her alright. She stared daggers at Serala. If looks could kill Serala would a pincushion of daggers. She really wished that insipid little Vulcan who hadn’t fallen for her attempts to cast suspicion on the station commander hadn’t stolen hers. She would sink it so far into… Serala: Lieutenant McGillian. Where were you planning to begin? McGillian: I’d like to start with the one that tried to kill me. Of course the stupid Rodulan who had no right to still be alive would interrogate her. She internally rolled her eyes since her physical ones were too busy trying to bore a hole through Serala’s head. Serala: Excellent. I will let you take the lead. I just wanted to be present for this. McGillian: I’ll get what I can out of them. He wouldn’t be getting hnaev 2 out of her. Not willingly anyway. She tore her gaze away from Serala with a look of disgust and went to lean against the wall of her cell, arms crossed. Eventually the black-eyed man approached. McGillian: :: To Sheri :: I’d offer you something to drink, but I’m not exactly sure you wouldn’t try to kill me or one of my crew with the cup. Her eyes flicked to the voids that were his so-called eyes, and she pushed herself off the wall with a sensuous upward roll of her torso. A smile spread slowly across her face, both predatory and seductive. She got very close to the force field and cocked her head. Sheri: ::sultry:: They make good blunt force weapons… or a shiv, depending on what it’s made from… or I could shove it down your throat… ::giggles lowly and grins:: How are those ribs, baby boy? McGillian: Better, now that they're out of your reach. Would you care to make this easy on everyone and just tell us why you infiltrated Deep Space Twenty Six? She tutted and waggled a finger at him, making a chiding noise. Sheri: Now why would I do a thing like that? McGillian: You tell me. She laughed that low, husky giggle again. Her head fell to the side, looking up at him from beneath her lashes and grinned. Sheri: You’re going to have to try better than that, baby boy. McGillian: You know honesty is the best policy. I know that’s hard for you to believe. ::gestures to Serala:: The Captain has had no qualms in putting down her deceptive nature. The smile faltered from her face when she glanced where he gestured at Serala, replaced by one of narrow-eyed calculation. She licked her lips and then turned away, leaning in even closer to speak in hushed tones. Sheri: ::speaking softly:: Your captain is a filthy. Half blood. Race traitor. ::with disgust:: She has no mnhei'sahe 3, so of course she has no qualms. Serala: Response? Sheri: ::yelling:: You heard me! And what are you going to do about it? You can’t hurt me. Your precious Federation won’t allow it! Serala/McGillian: response -- 1: "One, two, three Turn. "Four, five, six. Turn. "Seven, eight, nine. Turn. "Ten, eleven, twelve. Turn." 2: sh*t 3: Romulan honor -- “Sheri” if that is her real name A spy who definitely does not work for any organization directly as simmed by… -- Lieutenant T'Ama Chief of Operations USS Chin'toka C240004T11

This excerpt from @Lhandon_Nilsen's post really hit me. I'm not sure what hits the hardest. The part about the unshed tears? Because there are so many more to come for Morro. Or the part about justice, something he'll probably never get for an action that essentially took away his free will. I've had the "Z'Mat abusing Morro" element in the can for awhile and I thank @Lhandon_Nilsen for really working with me to explore it, and bring it to life with a character that knows a thing or two about rage. It's been perfect.

(( Flashback - Casperia Prime, Nantahala Valley, Semara Family Home )) Hereditary factors in relative telepathic capability had been perceived far before Betazoids even conceived of genomics. For evidence, one needed look no further than the early formation of class and family structures very early in Betazoid societal development along the lines of telepathic prowess. While certainly not entirely determined by lineage, the likelihood of having strong empathic senses was high when born to two parents with acute capabilities. Amelia was hardly an exception. Even though no one in at least three generations knew exactly how the Semara matriarchal line connected to the great houses of Betazed (consulting the family tree was considered too time consuming, and privately thought too potentially disappointing), she displayed an early aptitude that was considered proof enough she descended from a long line that had once claimed to be touched by one of the goddesses themselves. Even more than any land or titles, that was her inheritance. As any Betazoid parent knew, while empathic abilities didn't manifest right at birth (something that allowed infants to form a sense of identity), it could begin to form as soon as a child began learning to speak, even if full telepathy typically waited for adolescence. This was not without problems. It was not long after Amelia learned her first words when her pale green eyes began to be stained a few shades darker by the first production of the various neurochemicals that allowed perception of the psychic world around her. The tiny, precious knee-high blonde quickly discovered she could totter around her family home and babble and butcher the very silliest words she knew at the nearest adult and she'd win the happy roller-coaster rush of feeling that accompanied the music of laughter. The complication came when she said the wrong thing to the wrong adult. It happened when some unremembered Human dignitary had come to stay and experience the snowy, ring-framed mountain majesty of Casperia in the company of her family. She was far too young to understand what exactly was happening or why between her family and the man, but she could perceive the rank stomach acid of tension wafting in the air easily enough. And she knew enough to not like it. So she decided to take matters into her own little pudgy hands, and she knew exactly how to do it. One evening, when the tension was particularly chunky, she tugged on the pant-leg of the guest, gave her biggest smile, and started babbling. She didn't know precisely what she was saying but it hadn't mattered before. If she could just get the man to laugh it would all be okay, she thought. But the sound and feeling never came. So she persisted - until a whip-crack of needle-sharp fire poured out with a shout from the man. Amelia reeled back, uneven legs failing under her in the intensity of novel, painful feeling. She started bawling an instant later. It took her mama quite a bit of hugging and no small number of tissues to dry the crying that ensued. Even hours later into the bright ring-lit night, after numerous attempts to explain to Amelia what had happened and why, peace and sleep still eluded the tiny Betazoid who was only beginning to grasp how to communicate. Eventually, her daddy took the night shift watching after her as the third moon was skimming the arc of the rings overhead. Little Amelia had nestled herself against his comforting, solid frame which had brought quiet so many times before, but still sleep stayed far-off. Then his chest began to vibrate as his voice seemed to softly lift her up. She couldn't quite grasp the meaning of the words when he started singing, but she felt the shape of the melody inside her unwinding the events of the day. It was a song of water: remembering the cold rains it rose from and the hot springs it joined. As she washed downstream, she passed rock and mud and dallied in pools and fens. Even as she tumbled and gathered into a great slow river, she never forgot where she came from, but still she pressed onward, ever toward the sea. As the song of the sea rocked ancient sailors to sleep, Amelia finally nodded off. (( Present Day - USS Khitomer, Deck 1, Bridge )) Semara: Any of y'all ever seen two barn cats play rough? :: silence :: Eridani hasn't actually done much damage to Khitomer. Hasn't even hit much. And we haven't fired back. Maybe we are communicating already. Perhaps we're meant to fire back with equally bad aim? For that matter, there's plenty of species with rather aggressive mating practices. Klingons, for instance. If you thought you were a starship, sending over an away party could be viewed as an attempt to procreate. No matter the intent, I do believe the phrase "actions speak louder than words" applies here. Captain Shayne seemed to take a moment to process the latest theory, his creased brown eyes expressing a quiet desire to un-hear what had just been said. It was odd - for a fleeting moment just before, Amelia could have sworn she had sensed an emotional smell of a sweaty men's locker room coming from the Captain... Where had she felt that before? A non-sequitur memory of going skinny-dipping with mixed company in college flashed in her mind's eye. It didn't make sense. No one was even slightly undressed on the bridge. A torpedo floated by, interrupting the temptation to focus on the minute psychic flickerings on the bridge. Jacin: That’s a big gamble to take with the lives of the away team. We’ve no idea if that theory is correct and if we take offensive action logically it will retaliate. Amelia shrugged in acceptance. It was entirely true she couldn't prove the theory. Then again, in the study of biology it was exceptionally hard to prove anything. She had to admit her recent yearlong study had colored her perspective, and that she'd need to adjust her thinking in moments of urgency like these. There simply wouldn't be time and opportunity to perform rigorous trials with several independent variables and tens of trials and re-trials to find out what actually worked. Amelia didn't believe her theory had been improperly offered, but she noted the different perspective anyway for future use. MacKenna: Response Jacin: If we take offensive action it is going to be difficult to come back from that without a fight. All I’m saying is that perhaps we should try talking to it before we open fire. The away team is in danger. Let’s not make them more so. The Captain vibrated, "no" in form and feeling. Shayne: Lieutenant, you’ve got a good point. But it’s not allowing us to talk to it. Jamming communications is an act of aggression, no matter the motivation. It’s got our people, and it’s an active danger to them. I’m not saying we have to blow her to smithereens, but a firm, gentle flick on the hindquarters is in order. Amelia felt herself waiver. The Captain was very close to coming around to the way of thinking that she'd just proposed, but she felt something inside the Lieutenant that was even more persuasive than the words she was using. The Captain turned to the intelligence officer. Shayne: Unless the prefix codes are still a possibility. MacKenna: Response That didn't sound promising for the here and now. Jacin: Virtually all of what we are dealing here is based on conjecture. We don’t actually know for sure what has happened and why. Michaels: There is somewhat more than simple conjecture. But there is no shortage to assumptions within our thinking. ::beat:: Another big mental red X from the Captain. Amelia could feel the rising tide of overload tightening around everyone. Perhaps it was time to focus on the basics. Semara: How 'bout we keep it simple, then? What's the most obvious thing we can dowithout escalating if talkin' proper ain't an option? MacKenna: Response Shayne: We lower the shields, we get our people back. Then we can deal with the Eridani from the upper hand. Jacin: Right but that’s a risk. Shouldn’t our immediate concern be to stop the Eridani’s erratic behaviour? This Lieutenant Jacin was certainly nothing if not persistent. Amelia reinforced her first impression of the Bajoran-looking woman: there was a hearthfire of hot passion and belief inside of her. Experiencing the interplay in point-and-counterpoint was fascinating, but Amelia wasn't positive everyone on the bridge was enjoying the educational experience as much as she was. Shayne: If we had the means to, certainly. But we don’t yet. Something far more involved is going on over there- I’m becoming more and more convinced that we are dealing with something of a skinwalker. For the moment, stopping it means either killing it, or incapacitating it and we just don’t know how yet. MacKenna:Response Jacin: Something terrible happened not only on that ship but to it. If it is sentient, then we should treat it like we we treat any frightened and antagonistic life form. Amelia had a knack to trust her instincts about a problem, but she knew positively when to trust someone else's instead. In this case, there was a lurking, toothy sea creature of fresh experience sending ripples across the Lieutenant's interpretation of events. It was as if Jacin had identified something of herself in the Starship's behavior on a primal level that went beyond instrumentation and observation. The power of her assertion was irrefutable. She made up her mind. The counselor was most likely right. Semara: I agree. But ya can't exactly talk down a screamin' toddler. Michaels: Communication is a near zero risk approach that should not be ignored. The question then, as the Captain said, is how do we get through to something that is, as Lt Jacin put it, afraid of us, views biological lifeforms as a lethal threat, and is jamming our communications. Amelia put her focus back on Shayne, determined to glean any insight she could from how the rather remarkable CO came to a decision. The struggle inside him was a rather muscular wrestling match, and equally smelly to her empathic senses. Michaels: Jamming may make Eridani deaf but it does not make her blind. We use a beam of light so weak it can not be mistaken for a weapon. We send a short message to Eridani in Morsex code and we put it on a repeating loop. Eridani will eventually recognize it was communications. It will eventually find Morsex decryption in her databanks and decrypt our message. Our message could be something like "We mean no harm. Respond if you understand.." Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that? Plenty of creatures communicated via light rather than sound or thought. Shayne: Ensigns Semara and Michaels- configure our running lights to transmit the first ten numbers in the Fibonacci Sequence. Amelia beamed, proud her captain had already thought of the point she was going to raise. Morse was rhythmic - which was good - but there was no guarantee the receiver would understand the letter-encoding, let alone the meaning of words they turned into. Whoever or whatever controlled Eridani hadn't read enough of the databanks to figure out how to shoot straight, so it seemed too much to hope it would figure out how to talk in the coming seconds. She set to work, a rush of excitement and anticipation energizing her panel-pushing. Semara: Aye, sir. Michaels: Response Jacin/MacKenna: Response Shayne: Pulling alongside her. To the Captain's credit, he skillfully piloted the Khitomer alongside in a motion that was smooth but assertive. Clearly a master at work. In the side-on view of Eridani, the running lights low in view had started to flick on and off in the steepening staircase pattern of the Fibonacci Sequence. Jacin/MacKenna: Response Shayne: Old Earth aircraft would intercept suspicious and non-communicative planes like this. Pull up alongside, give them a wiggle with the wings. If the plane wiggled back, they’d be escorted to a landing strip nearby. oO Weird what non-empaths come up with to know what the other wants... Oo The thought came unbidden, but it reached a place in her when her empathic senses hadn't yet fully formed. She supposed a species had to come up with something. Hers had, but it was traditionally reserved for children. Several tense moments passed while the tangential thought played out in the back of her mind. The wait to see what happened had a similar feeling to sitting ravenously hungry in front of a feast after an all-day hike but being unable to eat until everyone else sat down. Nothing happened.... No, nothing happened! Semara: Sir! Eridani stopped shooting! :: Turning to Michaels, beaming. :: Any change in power levels? Well, it stopped shooting for now. Who knew when it would start again? Either way, the Ensign's idea had been good enough to get somewhere. Michaels: Response Amelia cast her dark eyes back at the viewscreen. For some reason, a distant memory combined with the rocking motion of the Khitomer and the Vulcan Ensign's idea about using running lights to recall an old childhood memory she hadn't remembered in a long time. But she still remembered the song sung to her many times. An idea came together in a flash of inspiration, but she'd need help. Semara: ::Speaking excitedly to her peer. :: Do we have any specs on Constellation-class sensors? Michaels/MacKenna: Response That was exactly what she needed to know. Semara: Captain, Lieutenant - What if we tried a lullaby? That's nice and relaxing. Starships are real sensitive to light wavelengths. Have to be for lookin' at the composition of stars and planetary atmospheres and everything in between. A song ain't nothin' but a bunch of timed wave patterns and harmonics. If we encoded the waves as light frequencies Eridanican see - infrared through UV - we could make Khitomer sing. Could even rock - sorry, wiggle, sir - to the beat. Jacin/Shayne/Michaels/MacKenna: Response Semara: Sure it's a shot in the dark, but we got a simple response to a simple tactic. Might try something a bit fancier. Even if Eridani's just plain confused, it gives us time. And I know just the tune to hum... Amelia was already calling up the music from the database, adjusting it to the version she remembered, and sequencing a series of commands for the exterior lights. If it wasn't ordered, she could delete the program, but she'd rather be ready. She genuinely hoped there was still some wisdom left to Old Woman Water, and that whatever being on Eridani found the ancient lullaby as soothing as she once had. Tag/TBC... Ensign Amelia Magnolia Semara Science Officer USS Khitomer - NCC-62400 A239710MA0

Thats very naughty @Dekas Saying flip is to be taken seriously!

Funny, biting and horrifying all at once- nicely done @Nolen Hobart.

I'm always a fan of particularly strong narration, but I love how this also let me learn more about both character's history in a particularly heart warming moment. It is indeed a small world! @Alora DeVeau and @Arturo Maxwell

Case in point, this gem that has made my month already from @Alyndra Syrex. "She stared using the power of the inner flame of several thousand replicated microwaved burritos" See, you all GET Kirsty and it makes me so happy.

I found this quite amusing. Would this be sort of breaking the fourth wall? Kinda? Not really? 😄 (( Unknown, Unknown, Stardate Unknown )) O'Reilly blinked, his mind struggling to process the sudden shift in his surroundings. One moment, he had been standing on the familiar marine deck of the USS Octavia E. Butler, discussing the training schedule with his fellow marines, while on stand by. The next, he found himself tumbling out of a bathroom stall, the cold tile floor rushing up to meet him. The smell of cleaning products mixed with musty odors hit his nostrils, a far cry from the sterile, recycled air of the starship. Disoriented, Teddy pushed himself up, his hands slipping slightly on the damp floor. He glanced around, trying to make sense of his new environment. The bathroom was dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights casting an eerie glow on the dirty walls. To his right, he saw Link sprawled on the floor, looking equally confused. An attendant stood near the sinks, shaking his head disapprovingly at the two men who, from his perspective were no doubt horsing around. Teddy's marine training kicked in, and he quickly assessed the situation. This was definitely not the OEB, nor any Starfleet facility he recognized. The primitive fixtures, the musty smell, and the attendant's outdated clothing all pointed to something far more perplexing. As he helped Link to his feet, Teddy's mind raced with questions. Where were they? How did they get here? And more importantly, how were they going to get back to their ship? O’Reilly: Hey Link ::grabbing the other marine by his arm:: you ok? The dampness of floor and its cold unforgiving seemed to seep through the fatigues that Link was wearing, he gripped onto Teddy's arm as he was helped up. Jensen: I'm okay. O’Reilly: Where are we? He looked around to see this old bathroom and the stall that both of them had just fallen out of. It was a dimly lit bathroom, and the fluorescent lights flickered to give this room a claustrophobic feel. Jensen: I don't know. O’Reilly: I was just talking with Simmons about, umm, schedules I think. Jensen: Do you recognise this place? It looks old. O’Reilly: If we are in the past, we need to be careful, we’re going to stand out like sore thumbs. The attendant looked over to them and they awkwardly said… Jensen: Erm…hi. The two men gave him a look that said, why are you talking to me. Link nudged Teddy to follow as he felt the awkwardness of the situation take hold. The two made their way out of the bathroom and into a giant hall. Almost instantaneously, O'Reilly's recent statement became pointless as two beings of a species he'd never seen before cut him off. One had odd-looking tentacles and the other appeared to be wearing a red and gold metal outfit with glowing palms. They were met with the most diverse collection of people, aliens, and outfits. Some people were dressed in extremely heavy combat armor that was mostly green with a gold visor, and they were carrying giant rifles that made even the Federation rifles look tiny. Others were dressed as elves, orcs, and other fantasy creatures. There were people dressed in what appeared to be very form-fitting one-piece suits which were made up primarily of blue and white and featured thin white stripes going across horizontally and vertically over their chests and arms. In the center of the torso was the outline of a spider. At once, they all seemed to suddenly freeze in position and point at each other. Jensen: I had a dream like this once, I was pretending to be a… Teddy cut him off, know where this was going. O'Reilly: ::placing his hand on Link’s shoulder:: Yeah (beat) maaaaybe a story for another time (beat) or never. There was a momentary pause of awkwardness… Jensen: So…where are we? O'Reilly: Some type of meeting center? (beat) but what’s with the outfits? Jensen: They are… He paused for a second and took stock of where he was, an idea came to mind Jensen: Are we in a comic book? Before the question could be answered, O’Reilly interjected. O’Reilly: The flow seems to be heading that way ::pointing:: As the two turned to walk, there was a blood curtailing scream from the door next to the one they had exited and suddenly that same door slammed open and a blushing man in Starfleet uniform came running out. Jer-Legrand: Sorry sorry sorry sorry. O’Reilly looked back at the door as the starfleet officer shot out of the bathroom. O’Reilly: I’m fairly certain that symbol used to mean lady’s room? (beat) ::not recognizing the man:: Where are you from… O’Reilly didn’t want to give away where they were from, just in case it was coincidental that this man was wearing a uniform that was awfully similar to the 2401 officer uniform. Jer-Legrand was just a little bit taller than Link Jensen. He was flustered, to say the least, and the mortified look upon his face told the story of his embarrassment. Jer-Legrand: I’m from. Jer-Legrand took a moment to survey where he was and the two Starfleet marines in front of him. The Bajoran spoke with a southern French accent; his words ended short and seemed to be measured and thoughtful. Jer-Legrand: The Octavia E Butler? He questioned his response, not that he wasn’t sure where he was from but rather he wasn’t sure who these two were, or where he really was. Link, on the other hand responded with much more ethueism Jensen: Oh yay, us too. O’Reilly: Oh good, twos a date night, three’s a party (beat) shall we. ::indicating towards the larger room at the end of the hall:: Teddy’s offactories picked up on sweet and savory aromas that made his stomach grumble. It was only then that he remembered it was almost lunch time before they were sent back here. oO I wonder if they have replicators here. Oo Jer-Legrand: I guess so. Erm…Per’cel Jer-Legrand, I’m in operations. Jensen: Aw sweet. Can I call you Percy? Link almost seemed to bounce with excitement. Jer-Legrand: Everyone else does. O’Reilly: So you know Lhandon Nilsen? As he spoke, he looked around at the sights, smells, and sounds. It was an assault on the senses. Link was glad that he had his gloves on to suppress his Betazoid abilities. He lost count of the number of people in this large hall. They continued following the group and soon reached a gate where there was an attendant scanning what seemed to be badges being worn as lanyards around everyone's neck. Jer-Legrand: I don't think we have one of those. Percy spoke with uncertainty as he held the group back. Jer-Legrand: Perhaps we should see what we can do around here first. At least work out where and when we are. There has got to be some kind of sign around here. O’Reilly: Agreed! I’m glad we landed on earth, I’m no good without a UT. Jensen: What about that, what does that say? They wondered over to the billboard that showed the floor layout and a listing of various different stalls and people, wand where they can be found. O’Reilly: “Grand Rapid Comic-con”, what do you suppose that is? ::looking around at the strange outfits again:: Percy questioned along slight Teddy. Jer-Legrand: A Comic-Con? But Link provided an excitable response Jensen: A Comic-Con?…Comic-Com? O’Reilly: Two marines and a ops guy, I’m pretty sure we’ll find a way to get into that larger hall. Teddy’s stomach growled, he realized they were just about to have lunch when they were snatched away and when he got hangry, no one ever had fun. Jer-Legrand: What is in that hall? Jensen: Erm…good question…Teddy what is in the hall? O’Reilly: Looks like some type of convention? Jer-Legrand: So…you just followed everyone? Jensen: Errrr…yeah. O’Reilly: Sure. Percy just nodded. Then they came across a billboard, for people magazine, advertising the “sexiest man alive” Jer-Legrand: You think he looks like a human version of Toxin Arlill. O’Reilly: Maybe?…. Teddy winced his face trying to see it, the hairline was similar. Jer-Legrand: He really does. Jensen: I don’t see it. O’Reilly: ::just shaking his head:: Jer-Legrand: Really? look at him, he looks just like Arlill. O’Reilly: Nah, Toxin’s got a bigger beard. Jensen: Yeah, I don’t see it. We’re getting distracted. I want to get home. O’Reilly: Well we better do something fast, because ::stopping cold:: In the convention hall stood a figure that didn’t seem to fit. They were clad in a robe with fancy markings, it just didn’t set up right with Teddy. O’Reilly: You see them ::discreetly pointing:: do they seem out of place? Jensen: Yeah. that is not a cosplay. [To Be Continued] TBC! Private Link Jenson & Ensign Percy Jer-Legrand As simmed by Lieutenant JG Lhandon Joseph Nilsen Assistant Chief of Operations USS Octavia E Butler O240007LN1 He/Him/His (Both player and character) & Private First Class Thomas O'Reilly 4/73 Marines as simmed by: Lieutenant Toxin Arlill USS Octavia E. Butler (NCC-82850) Writer ID: 0239910TA4

It has been a fateful start to our misson thus far. Amity's First Officer @Wil Ukinix tragically died at the hands of a Hirogen Alpha named Ravarj--and his second cousin Keehani isn't taking the development well. Even though I got impatient and read through the whole of this sim while filling out tags, the little tweaks that were made between then and the time this sim hit my inbox are irreplacable. It's a captivating, heartbreaking scene that hits all the right places, and is a prime example of the fantastic writing abilities of @Wil Ukinix! I can't wait to see what happens with Keehani next. ((Flashback – Meeting Room, Copernicus Level 13, Amity Outpost, Stardate 240111.23)) Keehani was past being disturbed about sensing that Wil was in the room with her. The death echoes were just that – echoes. Her cousin was gone. She knew it. *He was not there*. But now, as her last “official” act on Amity, the exhausted and sleep deprived Betazoid wanted answers. Keehani: Then you tell me how it was that a vessel was able to decloak right next to the Independence without being detected! Keehani, with her hands flat on the table, stared directly at the human-Klingon hybrid. She was met with an equally fierce stance back. Iko: What the #$*@ do you want me to say?! Robin, her broken arm in a gel cast, wanted to reach out to Keehani – and to Bec. They were both so distraught and Robin... Robin just felt numb. Hopper: Keehani, we had no idea that the Hirogen were in possession of cloaking technology. The other Alphas were caught just as off-guard as we were... Ravarj must have traded for the technology or-- The Envoy dropped her head, letting her hair fall to her sides and cover her face. Keehani: No, because Starfleet didn’t do their job. And now the First Officer is dead. She looked up again. Keehani: ::Pointing finger:: All because of your incompetence! ::To Hopper:: And I can’t believe you would even *think* to leave Wil behind. Iko: SHUT UP! Hopper: ::Sternly:: Bec. ::A breath, then turning to Keehani:: There was a contingency plan in place. Wil knew his job and I knew mine. If things went south, my priority was evacuating... ::Hesitating:: Was evacuating you. He was to stay behind and take command. Knowing that it had been the “proper” thing to do didn’t make Robin anymore convinced that it was the “right” thing to do – and Keehani’s expression only affirmed her self-doubt. Hopper: The point is, we shouldn’t be trying to assign-- Keehani: I’ve requested a transfer to Paris. I’m leaving Amity. Do you really think I could stay here? I’ve lost confidence in Rivi, in Starfleet, ::side eye to Bec:: in the Chief of Security and Tactical on account of, oh, I don’t know, ineptness that got my cousin killed! Iko: Yeah, well the FDC does this stupid thing of ::high pitched, mocking tone:: “Oh, we’re better than Starfleet, we don’t need security officers on our away missions”---If you had let me JUST #%*^@&$ BE THERE--- Hopper: ::Losing her cool:: Then you would be dead too, Bec. We would have lost you both. Things are bad – we need you here right now. ::To Keehani:: We need you too. Please, both of you, just stop-- Iko: You had it “ALL HANDLED!” It was all going to be “JUST FINE!”. But now--- Bec couldn’t bring herself to say it. In any form. Keehani stood straight, and with a look of absolute contempt, screwed up her nose and exhaled through her nostrils, glancing between them both. Keehani: ::through gritted teeth:: May the Four guide you both. Because someone needs to. With that, she turned on her heel, angrily clip-clopping her way out of the meeting room. Bec stared right at Keehani as she left. Iko: ::quietly:: %^$@%. Watching her leave, Robin was surprised at how little sadness she felt. It was like the part of her that would feel grief was broken or just missing. Hopper: ::Trying to convince herself:: She... She just needs time. We all just need a little... A little time. ((Terminal A, a few minutes later)) With tears visibly streaming down her face, Keehani turned over her shoulder as she made her way towards the gate that would take her back to Earth, via a QSD ship – a “Quesadilla” ship as her cousin colloquially liked to call it, that a death echo chose to remind her and she chose to ignore. She took one last glance at Amity. The Outpost had become her home. She would miss its cosmopolitan feel, its upmarket facilities, and its beautiful park. But the death of Wil, and the strategic failure of the attempted treaty with the Hirogen was a disaster that she worried she’d never be able to heal from. There was no containing her anger, nor her sadness. She knew they were a dangerous cocktail. It was a sign to her from the Four. Time to move on. She’d requested a transfer, and the only position available was a diplomatic communications review role in Paris on Earth. Not ideal, but not necessarily permanent. With patience, she would diligently perform her duties, waiting for the next opportunity, on her path to one day become an ambassador in her own right. And now she had new motivation – to be more cautious, and not to repeat Rivi’s mistake of being too conciliatory. oO Keehani... don’t leave... Oo She squinted her eyes shut, shaking the death-echoed voice of Wil out of her head, as she walked through the gate. ((Room 65-235, SS Gecko, Cool down phase – 3 weeks later)) Rather than allow herself to be buried in grief, and allow death echoes to traumatise her, Amity’s now former Chief of Staff buried herself in PADDwork. She had requested Paris send her things to do, and they had complied. She’d also spent many of her hours writing up her final Amity report, expressing her view of the failures of Ambassador Vataix and Starfleet that had led to Wil’s death. Part of her mind kept telling her she was externalising. But she pushed that down... Sitting on her bed with PADD in one hand and a stylus pressed against her bottom lip, she was interrupted when the console in her room informed her of an incoming personal message. Whoever had sent it, it would have taken days, if not a week, to get to her. She hopped off the bed, placing the PADD and stylus carefully on the sheet, then sat at the console, pressing to accept the message. On the screen was the forlorn face of Son Astrad Ukinix, grandmother’s brother and Wil’s grandfather. The friendly, older man who now helped her Matriarch grandmother Vaxa with the administrative affairs of the Ninth House looked far from the young man in his twenties who’d had affairs with two Matriarchs from other houses. The recording started playing. Astrad: // Keehani. Um... I’ve been searching for the words... it’s your grandmother. ::Tears welling:: Her condition, it’s worsened. She didn’t take the news of Wil’s... ::swallowing:: passing well. // Keehani: ::Hand over mouth:: Oh, no. Astrad: // She’s become paranoid that the family’s going to fall apart again. It’s sent her into a spiral, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but with her neural condition, she may not recover. The doctors think she may only have a few months left. // Keehani: ::crying:: Oh, by the Four, no. Astrad: // I’m letting you know this now so you can make arrangements to transfer to Betazed once you arrive on Earth. Hayley, Anacem, the whole family from Earth are already on their way here-- // Keehani watched as Astrad covered his mouth, trying not to cry. If ever there was an example of how Earth’s culture had unnecessarily taught the Betazoid man of supressing his emotions, it was on display on the screen in front of her. Astrad: // Stay strong, Keehani. I know you always are. // The transmission ended. In a fit of rage, she moved towards the bed, picked up her PADD, and flung it at the nearby wall as hard as she could. She placed one hand on her forehead, the other on her hip, and sobbed loudly. That’s when she felt Wil’s presence again. As if he was in the room, telling her he understood, and that it would all be okay. But it wasn’t Wil. It was yet another insufferable death echo. Keehani: ::Screaming, crying:: GO AWAAAAAAAAAAAY! The Envoy collapsed onto the bed in the foetal position, arms wrapped around herself. ((End Flashback)) ========================================================== Envoy Keehani Ukinix Chief of Staff, Amity Outpost Federation Diplomatic Corps, United Federation of Planets V239511WU0 With very special guests Lt. Cmdr Robin Hopper (she/they) Chief Science Officer & Second Officer, Amity Outpost Character Wiki Page V239806K11 & Lt. Cmdr Rebecca Iko Chief of Sec/Tac Amity Outpost A239810RI3

It's official: the Butler is the hottest ship in the fleet! I love shore leave—not just because it offers a change of pace but also because we get to see the crew just being people. Regular people with personal lives, goals, and a love of gossip. Believe me when I say this sim lit up our Discord channel! When you read this sim, pour yourself a glass of wine (or your preferred beverage) and indulge in the gossip with @Jania Nis and @Sevantha talking about boys, family, and clothes.

Um... Thems fighting words. LOL.

Really enjoy the scene setting here; great descriptive text and really gets me inside the mindset of what counselors think during their first app @Sevantha!

Wow, two separate appreciations on the same sim. Nice.

I'm not crying, you are. Last week, I highlighted one of @Morro Caras sims where Morro learned that his sister had abused him while they were growing up together, and today that scene has reached its conclusion. It is my opinion that Vio is one of the fleet’s best simmers. He has an uncanny ability to show us what Morro is feeling and experiencing, weaving his prose and narrative into a truly amazing tapestry that makes every sim an absolute joy to read. He can make you laugh—and now, he can make you cry. Over the past two weeks, he has dared to explore the consequences of Morro being used, abused, and manipulated by his own sister in a way that was smart, sensitive and tasteful. The scenes in the link below mark the start of Morro's realization, as we see him coming to terms with what he has learned and the anger he feels. Vio did not once flinch while writing this scene, and it was an honor to help him bring it to life. https://groups.google.com/u/1/g/sb118-butler/search?q=gymnasium%2C%20deck%205%2C%20uss%20octavia%20e%20butler%20after%3A2024-12-03%20before%3A2024-12-18

Like, I laughed after cause it's funny, and cause it put me in the mind of Mike the TV. If you know, you know. But upon first read when the mind made the connection, and with the ship seeming a little crazy. I just read this as an allusion to Hexadecimal and was like. Oh shoot we are in trouble. But then I just started laughing again.

I... am not sure this is a real saying, but I'll be damned if it doesn't work.

Aw.

A little bit overdue, but I want to recognize this first MSNPC from one of our newer writers @Morro Caras. Absolutely fantastic first showing that let us get to know who this MSNPC was and what she was all about. ❤️ ---- ((Grand bedroom, Palace,The Treasure moon)) Sbadni got up and looked at herself in the reflection of the priceless mirror from one of her greatest “deals”. Sbadni: By the stars, I'm still alive? She looked like hell. another night, another party. Though she was pretty sure the last one was three days ago. Had it lasted three days? It didn’t matter. There were new people coming to the moon tonight. Ones she could impress. Maybe they would be novel enough for her.Maybe they would have some kind of desire that wasn’t just “love” or “power” or a love for power. She’d know once she gave them “the tickle”. She had spent most of her career avoiding and antagonizing the Emerald chain. Those were the glory days. Everything was novel back then, and the smuggling and the dealing was good. Now left with no one to challenge, no one to harass or sell to in this sector; She hoped to attract novel people. She had a handful of rare items she was excited to put on display, maybe word would spread and she’d actually find someone worth her time. Sbadni flipped open their little retro communicator. They thought it was cute. Sbadni: =/\= D’viiii :stretching out to a whine:: Bring me my flask and then make sure the rare items in the exhibition hall are ready for tonight. I want to make sure that we impress tonight’s guests. That we draw them in and tickle their fancy =/\= In the next room D’vina winced, the boss finally was up. She hated when Sbadni called her that. It infantilized her. D’vina: =/\= Right away boss =/\= It would still be many hours until the party was ready, and the grand reveal of the “priceless” artifacts wasn’t until the “climax” of the party. The boss always wanted the biggest reaction out of people. Best D’vina could do was bring her the flask first and try to cover up her annoyance. The boss could sense it. D’vina stepped in with a full flask of the drink that could knock a full blooded Orion off their feet. But Sbadni had grown very tolerant. Sbadni’s empathic nature allowed her to sense her handmaiden’s annoyance with her. Sbadni: Don’t be such a mudling.::taking the flask::. Be a dear, hand me the guest list. D’vina handed over a logging device. Sbadni: Interesting, very interesting. Anymore information on these? She pointed out a few listings on the list of slots that were taken. D’vina: No, that was all that was gathered. Something stirred in Sbadni, a twinge of excitement. Finally something that might be interesting. She might have to get to know these “strangers” [end of scene] --- Former Dread Captain Sbadni, Wielder of Khrysaros Blade, Usurper of the Fourteenth House of Betazed O240106MC1 She/They (Character) he/him/his (player)

Well, I thought I was going to have the most dramatic end to my scene between the four members, but @Arturo Maxwell decided he was going to one up me at the last second.

I'd really enjoy seeing more from the Post Nemesis era. Partially because that's where we are writing in the timeline here at 118. Also, because I find the "legacy" references to the older eras immensely entertaining. Besides, while filling in the gaps from the early years adds flavor and is immensely enjoyable time watch, Star Trek has always been about setting sights on the future.

While checking my email to make notes for the mission archive, I was greeted by Jo's sim header, which reassured me that we, the lower deckers, are in good hands with our senior officers.

here @Alyndra Syrexwanting to party hard? XD

This is a great snippet- inventive dialogue and delightful characterization. Awesome stuff, Stephen!

And here I thought everyone was looking for Statler Jr.

Thanks so much everyone 🖖 I'm just starting to feel acclimated with the forums, wiki, discord, shipmates...it's a lot to take in! Anyway, I just found this post and wanted to show my appreciation. Looking forward to learning and contributing, and eventually helping others to feel as welcome as you've all made me feel!!!

Congrats to you both! Well done - I look forward to seeing your exploits around the fleet!

(ooc: just a one-off solo sim. I wanted to put a capstone on Yinn and Loq's entanglement, but it needed to be a private moment between the two.) Yinn held it together. Bolians didn't let down the group. And Starfleet officers didn't let their feelings get in the way of the mission. So she held it together, fighting cutists, evading the Borg, getting the crew safely back to their own time. She held it together going to sickbay, confirming nearly everyone had made it back. She held it together through debriefing. Promontory placed her on leave and she barely managed to say more than "aye, sir," but she managed. She somehow held it together all that time, through the yawning chasm of loss she felt. She had lost half of herself. Half of her body, half of her mind, half of her soul. What was left? She knew, objectively, medically, scientifically, things were back to normal. But she had never felt less normal in her life. Her thoughts were sluggish. Her body was unbalanced. And she couldn't remember what she couldn't remember. She had flashes of her parents on Hitorah, a vague sense of how it felt to be stabbed during warrior training, just flashes, bits and pieces. Even the last mission wasn't clear. She was at a party, she was in the science lab, she was threatening someone, it was all a blur. Her head was swimming since the jump through time, and yet she held it together. Until the moment she walked into her quarters and saw Qurgh'Loq waiting for her, and her heart turned to water and her vision went blurry and she fell into his arms, arms that used to be her arms, pressed her face into a chest that used to be her chest, and broke down sobbing like she had never done even as a child. The whole ocean poured from her eyes, her whole body turned to water and evaporated, and yet there she still was, her body clinging to a body that was no longer hers. Qurgh'Loq: I feared you were dead. Yinn gazed into his eyes. Everything she had been holding back all day, he had been too. Yinn: So did I. That moment that we — that we weren't us. I was terrified the worst had happened. Qurgh'Loq: I suppose us separating safely is not the worst outcome. Yinn knew, logically, that was true. Would she have spent her whole life sharing a mind? Leaving Qurgh'Loq on his own with half his mind and body gone when she died? It was better this way for so many reasons, but it didn't feel that way. Yinn: I know, but it doesn't feel right to not be... you. Us. Qurgh'Loq stared into her eyes for an eternity. Qurgh'Loq: I... I do not know how to feel. It wasn't easy for him to talk about how he felt. But she understood him. She was him. Or at least, she had been. She slipped her hand into his, and pressed her forehead against his. Yinn: Even if we're not together, you will always be part of me. Qurgh'Loq squeezed her hand tightly. Her fingernails dug into her palm enough to draw blood. She knew her acidic blood was stinging his fingertips, and she understood now why pain was satisfying to Klingons. When a moment was important, you wanted to feel it, in the moment and long afterwards. They had pictured this moment many times, when they were still of one mind, and had no doubts that if they had to live separate lives, they would live them together. Qurgh'Loq: JIH dok. My blood. Yinn: Maj dok. Our blood. Qurgh'Loq: Tlinghan jIH. Yinn: Tlinghan jIH. I am Klingon. There were more elaborate vows, but at heart those were the only words that mattered. Our blood. The two of us are one. They would have a formal wedding someday, once they met a few other people, enough for a proper family. She would share her bed with who knows how many others, and would encourage him to put his Klingon stuffiness aside and do the same. But she and Loq shared a bond few others could understand. She would care about other people, love other people, but Loq was part of her in a way no one else could ever be. After sharing one mind, consummating their vows in any physical way seemed insufficient. No matter how close they got, it would never be quite close enough. But for tonight, it would have to be. Loq tugged the chain at the back of her neck, and it was enough to make her dress dissolve into a cascade of shells skittering across the floor of their quarters. She pressed her forehead against his and slid her hands under his uniform, feeling the ridge of his spines, so familiar, and yet so strange to no longer be a part of her. Tomorrow the work would start again. Counseling. Physical therapy. Regaining her sense of self. Regaining her comfort in her own body. Trying to get Loq to set aside his stoicism and do the same. Destroying that futuristic transporter, much as she hated to let it go. But for tonight, she didn't want to think about any of it. Not the future, not the past, just the two of them, a universe to themselves. Yinn and Qurgh'Loq. Maj dok. ----- Lt. Jr. Grade Yinn Science Officer USS Octavia E. Butler O240011Y12

22 votes but only 4 people posting about how they cast their vote and why. Don't keep your opinions to yourself people! What is it about your chosen eras that appeals? Or alternatively, what eras have you no interest in seeing any more of, and why? Don't worry... you won't be judged.

@Kimonzi Lahl gotta get them gains