Jump to content

Leaderboard

Popular Content

Showing content with the highest reputation on 01/30/2021 in all areas

  1. Our Away Team currently finds itself in a dire situation but Ensign Rel's reaction managed to put a smile on my face 😄.
    3 points
  2. OMGz, I loved this sim. Poor Lazarus! And the one-liner:
    2 points
  3. The level od SASS that @Quen Deena can percolate sky rocket in this sim. I loved it! ____ ((Transporter Room 1, Deck 1, USS Thor)) She still had to make that punch-card for Teller. And probably Alieth, too, while she was at it. Both of them had been among the injured beamed over from the Penetrator. Deena would have liked to say she was surprised, but… she wasn't. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she ought to start a betting pool: every time one of them leaves the ship, guess the number of minutes before they come back knocked out. Maybe the Zet would find it funny…. But knowing them, gambling on injuries sustained by the boss was probably a severe violation of contract. Speaking of the Zet, it had been an… interesting few days. The biggest hurdle they’d encountered was, by far, the cultural divide between Starfleet and the Zet. From what she’d managed to glean from the plethora of untreated conditions and anxieties over payment, their society was transactional enough to make the Ferengi look generous. Verbal assurances had gotten them nowhere. Salo and Rumboldt had come together to tweak one of the standard injury report forms to include some nonsense about method of payment cobbled together from a variety of historical datafiles. Apparently, it made just enough sense to keep the majority of the Zet distracted enough to allow the medical teams to administer proper treatment before consigning the PADDs to the growing electronic graveyard on Dr Alieth’s desk. Unfortunately, that had attracted the attention of members of the Penetrator's crew who announced themselves as middle management and demanded a complex series of meetings be undertaken. Presumably, the intent was to negotiate… something - probably the nonexistent price tag, if she had to guess. Their requests piled one on top of the other, so filled with jargon and acronyms even the universal translator couldn’t make them make sense. Deena had come quite close to having some rather unprofessional words with a particularly insistent one when Connelly lit on the idea to have the middle managers meet amongst themselves to discuss the planning of the meetings. She owed the woman a beer for that. Several. What was the collective noun for a group of middle managers anyway? An obstruction? She smirked to herself. It was at least accurate, if not correct. The officers took position around the transporter pad and Geoff nodded to Chief Larell, but paused before stepping onto the pad. Teller: Doctors, Ensign, glad we're all here. The situation is this ::Geoff tapped on a nearby display and showed images from the planet:: We began beaming down our evacuees to a location they designated as their 'mandated domicile,' but they're being turned away and we're not sure why. We've had to temporarily stop relaying people to the ground until we can sort this out. Quen: Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with the mysterious meeting that started four days ago? Alieth gave a slight nod at her department colleague's input. Alieth: I concur. Anything else we need to consider whilst we are on the surface? Teller: Well, in addition to making sure the people you treated actually have homes to go back to the Fleet Captain wants us to take a look around. A through one. I don't know about you three, but some of what we saw on the Penetrator left a real bad taste in my mouth. We need to understand the Zet better and until we do, lets keep digging. Questions? Katsim: No sir. Deena shook her head. Oh, she had questions, all right - none that any of them could answer, of course... Alieth: Nor do I, Commander Teller: Very well, eyes open, best behavior...::Geoff was speaking to himself as much as anything, considering his introduction:: we're the friendly aliens you... Deena had a half-formed quip about "best behavior" including not becoming The Concussion Crew, but the transporter cycle took hold before she could get it out, whisking the away team off the ship. ((Employee Esplanade 993 - Saldanian Life@Home Employee Mandated Domicile Services, LLC)) What hit Deena first was the headache-inducing contrast between the dark, dinghy metals and grimy glass of the buildings (amplified by the lack of natural light), and the eye-watering brilliance of loud advertisements that were artificially lit with what could only be described as the power of a thousand suns. Instinctively, her hand went up to shield her eyes until they had a chance to adjust. What she wouldn’t give for a set of inner eyelids right now… Of course, those tended to come with a set of overly-sensitive olfactory glands. Which, now that the aroma was coming through, would probably not be a good thing. Burnt metal, rot, bodily fluids; a rank, stomaching churning aroma of hopelessness and misery mixed with cheap food and poor hygiene. Half a pace in front of her, Alieth stumbled back a step and gripped Deena’s arm to steady herself. She was a bit surprised her colleague was still conscious. The scent hung so thickly in the air, it was beginning to settle on Deena’s tongue. Their destination was an office several hundred meters into the structure but they had chosen to land outside, where some of their former guests were milling around or encamped along the perimeter. Teller: Vice Associate Rod'gurs...what seems to be going on here? Why aren't the crew going inside? From what she’d learned of their emotional expression, the Zet seemed deeply troubled - treading on depressed. Rod'gurs: A Capital Loss. Declared Capital Loss. Ledger closed. Credit history gone. No severance. Alieth: You mean the shipwreck? The Penetrator's fate? Deena blinked, confused. The words themselves sounded familiar enough - the order, not so much. Quen: What does that mean - "capital loss"? Rod'gurs: All of us. Written off. ::Shaggee made a choking sort of noise somewhere between a giggle and a sob.:: Declared a loss. It was the most fiscally prudent move for the Corporation. Teller: Is there anyone we can discuss this with here? The Zet seemed to fall back into a prepared sales presentation. The words seemed repeated from deep memory. Rod'gurs: The Saldanian corp arcology complete domicile solution is a remarkable innovation in low operational cost minimal survivability living. To streamline administrative, judicial and civic oversight, local arcology directors will have broad discretion in matters of employee housing retention or termination. ::The zet snapped out of his fugue, now making eye contact with Geoff.:: You might be able to schedule a meeting with them, but it'll be several rotations until they even meet again for an emergency. We'd need to file an emergency motion and... Deena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. A Ferengi dream - a nightmare for everyone else. A nightmare was still technically a dream, yes? Teller: I think they'll meet with us. Lead the way, Mr. Rod'gurs. Everyone else - take all the readings you can as we work our way into this structure ::Geoff stepped in something, paused, and shook his head.::...and watch your step. Alieth: Understood. ::turning to the Bajoran:: Doctor Quen, gather data on any Zet we come across, cross-reference it with what we gathered on the Thor. As she said this, she pulled out a tricorder that had been clipped to her hip and started scanning the surroundings. Deena did the same, until she caught a glimpse of something large and multi-legged with a vaguely furry shell skittering away from the path into a grimy, dark crevice. Quen: So long as someone keeps an eye out for the *ahem* wildlife... Soon they were all trotting towards their destination, most of them with their noses practically buried in their tricorders. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of Zet nearby and, as far as any of them could determine, none of them were in any state one could rightly call "healthy". Most of the infants had some degree of malnutrition or developmental problems. Over half showed mutations due to toxins or early exposure to radioactive substances. Almost all of the adults examined appeared to be on the verge of exhaustion. Injuries or scars were common and were a sign of a violent life or gruelling work. Many of the Zet in range had implants of some kind: limbs, organs, in the case of one particularly large Zet who stopped as they passed, almost his entire skull had been replaced by cybernetics. Deena’s focus narrowed in on the pulsing, angry readings coming from the device in her hand. Alieth: Admittedly, the Penetrator crew were the height of health compared to this population. Deena was silent for a moment. She’d been thinking the same thing. A tiny part of her had been clinging to the faint hope that what they’d seen on the Penetrator was the result of extraordinary circumstances and not indicative of the whole. Unfortunately, that was in fact the case - just not the way she’d imagined... Quen: Somehow, I was still hoping we would see better… ::beat:: I’m picking up a large number of parasitic infections as well - it’s not just the visible. Teller: Response Alieth: Perhaps, but I would prefer to have a larger sample before making a hypothesis. The shadow of the building fell over them as they crossed the arched entrance. The stench there was even worse than before. In the gloomy corridor a number of Zet lay in a pile, some asleep, some with their gaze transfixed on the ceiling and an expression of bliss that could only be indicative of extensive drug intake. A low beep from Alieth’s tricorder indicated that at least one of the Zet had already died. Deena glanced down at her own, and gave a subtle, somber nod as confirmation. Katsim: I don’t understand how people could live like that. The words were soft, spoken more to herself than for the sake of conversation. Alieth: Neither do I. Deena’s eyes swept the scene, her heart aching with both anger and empathy. Take away the garish advertisements - add in a fine layer of ore dust, a haze of smoke, a fence.... Change the species, of course. She’d seen enough holoimages to recognise the parallels. Wouldn’t exactly be an uncommon sight a generation ago on her world - an endless feedback loop of hopelessness and poverty, no escape except... Quen: ::softly:: It’s not always a choice... Teller: Response Alieth: Yes sir. Their steps led them to an inner courtyard, revealing the myriad balconies that hung from each floor, trying to catch the smallest percentage of natural light that seeped dirty and miserable into that sort of oversized skylight. On either side were staircases, spiralling sluggishly up each floor until they disappeared into the heights, while at the bottom, facing them, the inviting door of a lift glittered, its sides and interior ablaze with a thousand screens full of advertising, from the nutritious substitute solyent greenery to corporate advertisements about the need to raise a herd of children to contribute to the next generation of corporate employees. The garish visual assault made Deena’s head pound. Alieth: The use of the lift means a supplementary charge of 1.5% per each dozen floors, which will be automatically deducted from the company's payroll with every usage. A recurrent user discount can be claimed provided that you present the certificate 454b for essential workers or provide the document 33t section 88 of progeny cession .... Anyway, there seems to be a fee for its use. Teller/Katsim: Response Quen: No chance of an out-of-towners’ discount, I suppose? Deena was half-joking. Or so she thought. The Vulcan glanced at the text once more, her eyes sweeping over the text and then narrowing even further until she reached the fine print. Alieth: Non-corporate visitors, workers from other corporations or other uncovered visitors may use the service in exchange for one day lease of work for SalCorp per floor climbed, being at least 80 hexaclicks per week or 40 if the applicant applies as a subject for experimentation of new SalCorp products not authorized yet by Central Business Agency….Maybe stairs then? How many floors do we have to climb? Deena grumbled under her breath. Slave labor and experimentation... Quen: Why am I not surprised? Teller/Katsim/Alieth: Response Quen: Well - stairs it is, I guess. Unless anybody feels like spending a couple extra months here… Teller/Katsim/Alieth: Response Quen: Any good hiking songs among those sea shanties, Commander? Teller: Response Katsim/Alieth: Response Tag/TBC __________ Lieutenant Quen Deena Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239602QD0
    2 points
  4. I'm obsessed with how weird and amazing this development is. The orbiting statuary! @Ben Garcia --- (( USS Ra, Cruising Orbit, Zet Homeworld. )) Even at a distance it had been an imposing figure. 93 meters. It oscillated on a vertical axis, running from the statues’ crown to the hem of its gown. The metal had been sculpted into ripples so fluid that Ben could almost hear the breeze rustling across the stars. Until he remembered space was a vacuum. Scans showed an internal power source maintained the statue’s position and axis rotation, although Ben wasn’t able to understand the mechanisms of the technology making it possible. The Ra glided to a stop at the statue’s base. The detail of the sculpture was elaborate and fine. Open jawed, Ben leant across the helm console in disbelief at the intricacy of the sculpted gown: its weft warped and bowed in proportion to the furrow of the fabric’s crease. It was beautiful. It was wasted. How could such craft be appreciated like this - in the dead orbit of space? Lovar/Rouiancet: Response? Ben gave a slight whistle with a nod of the head. Garcia: Odd title for a sculpture. Lovar/Rouiancet: Response? With a trickle of thrust, Ben edged the Ra forwards, weaving through the orbiting statuary, towards the Zet Homeworld. Garcia: Any sites of technological interest we should priortise for the recon fly over? Lovar/Rouiancet: Response? Garcia: Ideally we want a site near something touristy:- that’ll be our excuse for being in the area. Lovar/Rouiancet: Response? Tag/TBC! _____________________________ Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia Second Officer/HCO USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: G239102MR0 SB118 News Team
    1 point
  5. Amok Time is by far and away in my list of Top 5 Favorite Episodes, so Kirk v. Spock was a no brainer for me.
    1 point
  6. Sisko always had the most realistic fights. My personal favorite was when Vedek Bariel took a swing at him. He just stood there nonchalantly blocking his weak attempts at a punch.
    1 point
  7. Any fight with Sisko sparring with anyone is best. I actually laughed at Janeway vs that Microorganisim horror virus thingie. Like, what? lol
    1 point
  8. Absolutely biased to "Family" so a good deal of stuff going on there ❤️
    1 point
  9. Don't know how gladiatorial it is, but I've always loved the punch up between Kirk and Kruge in The Search for Spock. I... have had... enough. Of. YOUUU!
    1 point
  10. "Picard and Dathon...at El-Adrel."-Tamarian Captain
    1 point
  11. This a beautiful ending to a storyline by @Meidra Sirin, a character at the end of their rag, forced to murder and suicide. ((Bridge, the Megalana)) Teril was not a good being, that was never in question, but he was not proud of how his life had turned out. Fighting the weak was not part of the mercenary code he’d followed his entire life. You kill those who have what you want, but you do it and move on to the next score, you don’t become part of the established cruelty. He found his way to the communications area and frowned. What he was planning was considered treason, but truth be told - Teril was tired. Tired of pretending to enjoy the boring, pointless existence he had been living as one of Lo’Thar’s lieutenants. He sent a message to the other ship, and waited in the silent command center of a doomed ship. Soon, an answering beep to his message came through. The warm bloods were willing to talk again. He had the feeling that they liked to talk quite a bit. Pushing the appropriate button Teril took a deep breath and sealed his fate. Farrel: Response Not the pretty bird...he vaguely wondered where she’d flown off too, he would have enjoyed seeing her again. No matter, there were greater things to sort through now. Teril: Resolution - I grow weary of thissss game. Lo’Thar isss dead. I am in command. I no longer think wasting resources of chasing your pitiful ship a good plan. Farrel: Response Teril ::glancing down at Lo’Thar’s corpse:: There wasss a….difference of opinion. It hasss been resolved. Teril could feel the alien presence in his mind again, a calming influence - he doubted she even knew she was doing it, but still, he was grateful to have it during this last exchange. He bowed to the screen, knowing that this would have angered Lo’Thar by its implied respect, and he felt even lighter now. He sent a silent thank you to this….Meidra….who gave her sense of peace to those who did not deserve it. Farrel: Response Any: Response Though they did not need it, Teril felt that he would give these people a basic understanding of why they had found themselves in this situation. He paused, not knowing why it mattered to him to explain, only that if he was to rid himself of the stench of Lo’Thar’s incompetence, he must begin with this explanation. Teril: Our people have used this tunnel in space to draw in prisoners for years. We’ve let them die to feed our machines, we’ve used that energy by ssselling it to the highest bidder. We have become ssstale cogs of a machine that bringsss no glory. It will be ended. I’ve sent the necessary information to your data banks. Tell your people on the planet to get far from the refinery, or they shall perish with the guardsssss. You have exactly two hours before it will be too late. Farrel: Response Any: Response Teril: Sssoon, reinforcements will arrive to help Lo’Thar’s pathetic quest for power. When they arrive, they will see a burning pile of death. This machine was a prototype, the only one built. When it issss gone, I will have no reassson to remain. It was ::searches for word:: entertaining to meet you. Tell your captain that I regret never hearing her sssssing for me. I’m sure she would have been my favorite songbird. He didn’t wait for an answer, switching the screen off. He did not have long before the soldiers arrived. He put in the code to start the self destruct sequence, knowing that merely crashing the craft into the buildings below would not give the explosion he required to send his soul into the warrior’s afterlife. Once he was certain that the little ship had received the instructions on how to reverse their trip through the anomaly, he sat back and contemplated how this mission had gone wrong, yet somehow had ended in the perfect way for all involved. Farrel: Response Teril ignored the summons, his work was done, his life done as well. He allowed himself a few moments to reflect on his actions, knowing that the repercussions would echo through Sau history for years to come. There would be no second machine. There would be no reason to harvest slaves for the comfort of the elite. He could almost pretend he was a hero, instead of a weary soldier for hire, tired of his very existence. Somewhere, on a small planet, Lo’Thar’s wife would hear the news of her husband’s passing. She would hear that his small craft was pulled into a malfunction of the machine she had helped create. Perhaps she would feel guilt that her work had killed her mate, perhaps relief. Teril would have no one to grieve his death, as his father had declared him dead to his clan years ago. Putting in the coordinates to his final glory, he instructed the computer to play a lullaby his nanny had sung on the cold nights of his childhood. It was fitting to be lulled into the final sleep in such a way, not as the hardened mercenary he had tried to be, but the lonely boy who never had a home of his own. He grinned as he realized how maudlin his thoughts had become, watching as the instrument panel warned him of his reentry into the atmosphere while being in self destruct mode. As the song floated into his memory, he could almost imagine seeing his mother’s face, beckoning him to her side. He closed his eyes and sat back in the commander’s chair, ignoring the computer’s warning that the ship was on a dangerous course that would likely kill him. As the ship made its final burst of speed and crashed into the refinery, his last thought was that he had finally found the true meaning of glory. End scene/life Teril - Sau Commander Simmed by : Lt JG Meidra Sirin Counseling officer USS Resolution R239707MS0
    1 point
  12. The reaction was just as good.
    1 point
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.