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  1. The visual in this just cracked me up.
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  2. Mercifully alone after hours in sickbay, Geoffrey John Teller stood in his quarters and wept openly for the first time in his adult memory. Wracking sobs shook his torso as he supported himself with one hand against the bulkhead, peering through tears at the indifferent stars beyond the viewport. He’d maintained his composure through all the debriefings and the mandatory counseling sessions but now, in the safety of solitude, Geoff let the feelings he’d been tamping down pour out unfiltered. Tears ran down his face and onto his uniform unchecked as the events replayed in his mind once again. It started, as it always started...with the children. Their smiling, delighted faces. Their giggles and laughter. Their pure, innocent wonder. Their screams of terror. Geoff tried to shake the memory away but it would not be restrained anymore and he collapsed to his couch, hunched over with head in hands. A renewed series of sobs made his entire body shudder. It was several minutes before he could compose himself, and even then he was far from settled. His mourning had given way to a fierce anger every bit as unrestrained as his grief. With a hoarse bark he called out to the computer, his mind growing dark with increasingly violent thoughts. “Give me all the atmospheric surveys conducted on Telstrus 3 prior to beam down, along with the names of every officer and crewman responsible for their research. Someone is going to pay for this if it’s the last thing I do.” The computer's polite request to have him restate his query led to a shattered display and four broken bones in Teller’s right hand, although he didn’t know that. At the moment, the pain was strangely satisfying and helped focus his incoherent rage down to a fine, precise edge. He dug into the research for almost two hours as his hand throbbed and discolored, subsisting on a diet of cold coffee and even colder rage, but he came away with his answer. “Lieutenant Kowalski, report to my quarters, now!” The comm successfully conveyed the acid in his words because moments later his door chime rang. “Get in here and stand at attention, Mister.” Geoff’s tone was harsh, his quarters a mess and his own appearance far from uniform standard, but none of that mattered to him at the moment. The sole thing on Geoff’s mind was justice but at this point he’d happily settle for a violent measure of revenge. “Lieutenant Koawlski reporting as ordered. Sir, may I speak freely?” The tension in Koawlski’s voice was thick enough to land a shuttle on, but Geoff wasn’t in a mood to be compassionate. “No you damn well may not, Lieutenant. And I thought I told you to stand at attention!” Kowalski’s already rigid posture became ramrod straight, their unblinking eyes fixed on a far off point on the bulkhead. Geoff finally turned his attention away from the console and stood, closing the distance to Koawlski until they were nose to nose. Geoff’s eyes were frantic, red and bulging. A passing medical officer could have checked his blood pressure from the hallway. “Lieutenant, I am going to ask you a series of questions and you are going to respond Yes Sir, Commander Sir or No Sir, Commander Sir. Is that absolutely clear?” Geoff’s tone made it clear what answer he expected. “Yes Sir, Commander Sir.” To Koawlski’s credit, they weathered this volcano of rage without flinching. “Good. Were you the planetary meteorological officer on duty when we arrived at Telstrus 3?” Geoff knew the answer but he needed to hear the man say it to his face. To admit it was him and not some incomprehensible computer error. “Yes Sir, Commander Sir.” Again, it was the answer Geoff had expected, and it did nothing to quell his anger. “Were you responsible for preparing the atmospheric survey the Captain used to judge the coordinates of our beam down?” “Yes Sir, Commander Sir.” “When the Captain asked you to prepare that survey, were his instructions in any way unclear or subject to misinterpretation?” “No Sir, Commander Sir!” “Do you consider yourself competent at your duties, Lieutenant?” “Yes Sir, Commander Sir!” “In that case, Lieutenant, perhaps you’d like to explain why the Thor’s first children's kite flying contest was such a massive disaster?!” “Sir, I...the wind...it was supposed to be gentle...favorable...nothing in our models suggested hurricane force wind gusts!” “Perhaps you’d like to explain that to seventy-three primary school children who just saw two months of their hard work turned into high altitude confetti while they suffered scrapes and boo-boos the likes of which I’ve never seen!” “Sir, I can’t...I...I’ll resign...or...or you can file charges...you can’t possibly….” “Oh yes I damn well can, Lieutenant. As of now, you are assigned to serve as a class mascot until such time as I feel you’ve learned an important lesson.” Kowalski’s voice went up several octaves in shock. “But Sir!.....” “But nothing, Mister. Now get into that Flotter costume and get down to Deck 12. Those kids are getting blankies and juice boxes and they expect a visit from their new pal real soon....” Kowalski sputtered in incoherent shock but retreated in defeat, leaving Geoff alone again in his quarters. He’d always loved the wind but after today...he’d never be able to think of it without remembering Telstrus 3.
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  3. Oh...OH...I really want this to come out somehow! LOL
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  4. So you wanted "Top Gun meets Klingons"? Well, thanks to the talented @Antero Flynn, you've got it! (Cue 80's slow guitar riff...) (( Outside the Main Administration Building, Klingon Colony VoqmoH'tuq )) Antero stood with his arms crossed as he watched toward where he expected an arrival from their greeting party. He wore a pair of shades called aviators that he had heard were quite common with ancient Earth pilots. The Risian was pretty sure he looked super cool, but he knew asking would ruin it. Either way, he was grateful for the shading against the bright day. Kelrod: They could have anticipated our arrival. Think they're looking at us to check what they're dealing with? Parker: I was told for us to meet them here. They will come, and they will be on time. Flynn: You seem pretty confident. Turned out Parker knew what he was talking about as before he answered they were met by two Klingons. He didn’t get a good read on the male, as his eyes lingered a little too long over the top of his shades to the woman at his side. K’Jul: Welcome to VoqmoH’tug I am Commander K’jul, son of Mo’tuk and this is Commander Ch’otonn Bagorgh Parker: I am Lieutenant Commander Hannibal Tiberious Parker, son of Ryland. Lafizatar: I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Zhanyt Lafizatar. Vanlith: I am Lieutenant Charlena Vanlith, adopted sister of G’var. Kelrod: Commander Kelrod Flynn: ::With a bob of the head.:: Lieutenant Commander Antero Flynn, at your service. He didn’t bother with declaring the name of any of his family, that wasn’t his culture. Not that he had any they would recognize anyway. Besides, he wasn’t particularly proud to represent his father. The reverse was certainly true. Bagorgh: And I am Commander Ch'otonn Bagorgh. ::Staring at Parker:: Proud daughter of ::slight sneer:: Qo'noS. K’Jul: yIvoq'a'! yo' qIj buSmeH mIw woQlu'jaj! (OOC Translation: Be silent! Show respect to our guests and allies!) Kelrod: We're here for a purpose, we don't want anything to disrupt our orders. Bagorgh: The Klingon Empire has become as useless as a blunt Bat’leth. That is why we seek assistance from Federation’s Starfleet. ::Sarcastically:: Two blunt Bat’leth’s are better than one, yes? K’Jul: Perhaps.:: looking directly at Bagorgh:: but a blunt Bat’leth can be sharpened, or broken:: smiling wickedly:: and you have already been broken… Bagorgh: ::To K’Jul:: veQ jay’! (OOC: Translation – “garbage” expressed in strong terms) K’Jul: QaDchoHpa' tlhoS Wa'DIch. ( OOC: Translation: Crap always floats to the surface of the latrine.) The Risian only found himself smirking at the Klingon exchange. He had been around them before and didn’t find the behavior terribly unusual or disarming. In fact he found himself a little enamored with Bagorgh and her...spirit. Bagorgh: ::Gesturing:: Come. We have much to discuss about the logistics of the prisoner transport. Striding down the corridor with the others, he soon found himself in direct eye contact with Bagorgh. Bagorgh: ::To Flynn, slight seductive smile:: Your smooth forehead is made slightly more attractive by your Ja'risia, Lieutenant Commander. Flynn: oO The shades DO work for me! Oo He took off his sunglasses and cooly slid them into his collar before responding. Flynn: ::A sly smile.:: If you like my forehead, wait until you see…Erm ::He was suddenly very aware of the eyes of his team.:: My work ethic... Parker: Commander…we all have attributes which make us unique…like your forehead ridges, for example. Kelrod: Or a good left hand to deal with adversities. Flynn: ::Pointing to Kelrod.:: This guy is on to something. K’Jul: A shared victory is a noble victory. It is that philosophy which allowed us to defeat the Dominion. Something some Klingons fail to understand… The fierce and...exotic woman ignored the comment as they were led into a large room with various Klingon decor. He wasn’t sure entirely what each symbol represented, but recognized the crests of a couple of ruling houses he had encountered during his time on Starbase 118. In the middle of the table, a bowl of wriggling, jiggling, jiving and grooving pile of Gagh. The Risian frowned as Parker happily grabbed a handful and shoved it back. Antero was not so eager as he hesitantly picked up a single fellow and gave it a little nibble. Parker: Commanders…certainly you do not serve this excellent Gagh without bloodwine…and I’m afraid there is not enough Gagh for everyone… That prompted a look from the pilot that said “Seriously, dude?!” Lafizatar: ::diffidentally:: Not an issue, the chirality of Gagh prevents Mathenites from consuming it. Or bloodwine. Or.. a number of things, regretfully. Flynn: ::Scowling.:: oO Lucky...Oo Vanlith: ::Taking a handful herself:: it would be a shame if those of us who could consume this did not have the opportunity. Kelrod: I might join you, but if this is the first, it's been some time since I've had a heart of Targ. Flynn: oO Suck ups...Oo Antero could respect the effort of his crewmates, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Klingons served this food just because they knew that Starfleet would lap up anything put in front of them in the name of diplomacy. He watched their hosts faces with squinted eyes at any sign of giggling as he chewed his gummy worm. Bagorgh: It is not a problem. We have plenty to go around. The mech ghlq supplies the best Gagh outside of Qo'noS itself. ::To Zhanyt:: It is unfortunate that you cannot sample the best food and drink in the entire galaxy. Parker/K'Jul: response Antero leaned back and watched the conversation continue, nibbling distastefully as he wondered if there was any chance of a Klingon brawl. Maybe someone would get mad and flip the table, he brightened at the thought of all that Gagh going to waste. Lafizatar: It is not up to me to dictate the hand dealt to me, but merely how I play it. It would be disrespectful for me to request special treatment when I am the only species in the room who would require it. So I did not. Kelrod: All great powers that have different species have to learn each ones limitations. For example, I'm quite fond of Chech'tluth, while others can't stand it. Flynn: Ooh! That I recognize! ::He shook his head.:: I don’t care for it… Being a drink flinger on Risa came with knowledge of beverages from far and wide, from delicious to potentially deadly. Chech’tluth was not one that Antero would put in either category, but it did make him wonder what a dinner party hosted by Kelrod would be like. Bagorgh: That is true. If it were not for a former warrior under my command named Broral, I would never have realised the delight of the Earth food “burrito”. But, while K’Jul would have you believe he enjoys shared victory, I wonder if he is suvwI' enough to eat a mouth full of spicy jalapenos. (OOC: suvwI' = Warrior) Parker/K'Jul: response Kelrod: Might I be so bold as to ask about what you have in mind for the convoy? After all, you have more experience in this part of the Shoals. K'Jul: Response Kelrod: What kind of ships are we talking about? And how many? K'Jul: Response Bagorgh: And my ship, the IKS T'Kuvma. It is a K't'inga class and almost a relic of T’Kuvma’s time. But, we have refurbished it as best we can. Our resources are limited, the area of space you call “The Shoals” is not the highest priority for the Klingon Empire. Antero perked up at that. The Bird of Prey had always been a model that fascinated the helmsman. So sleek and maneuverable, their style so striking and sublime. He had always wanted to fly one. Vanlith/Parker/Lafizatar: Response Bagorgh: Qlbmey’, the area you call “The Shadows”, has seen high activity from pirates and criminals, and they can strike at any moment. They are opportunistic, and will not hesitate to attack. Even at our fearsome warships. But, your Captain Rahman and your Veritas has a reputation, they will think twice. I do guarantee though that if battle should occur, ::slight smirk:: K’Jul’s ship will be the first to expire. K’Jul: Response Bagorgh: ::To K’Jul:: bIHnuch jay’! (OOC: Coward in strong terms) Antero Flynn was a social creature. Many times he had been told of the folly of many nights spent partying with various species in various locales, but he had learned a lot about the social intricacies of many races in that time. As for those in the mighty Klingon empire, it was his experience that they valued a bit of ribbing and good natured banter far more than careful etiquette. This encounter was reinforcing that. Flynn: I’m certain I could do quite a bit to help with maneuvering controls and guidance layouts. ::He sat himself on an unclaimed corner of the table and rested an elbow on his knee as he chewed up a final bite of gagh like a piece of gum.:: But of course the real question is, do your Klingon pilots have what it takes to fly at the same level as a Risian? Bagorgh/K’Jul: Response Parker/Kelrod/Lafizatar/Vanlith: Response Flynn: Well. ::A quick wink to Bagorgh.:: Just want to make sure my prowess isn’t too much to keep up with. Bagorgh/K’Jul: Response Parker/Kelrod/Lafizatar/Vanlith: Response At that the Risian smiled, feeling fully aware that he was probably biting off way more than he could chew. Still - He liked the cut of her jib almost as much as the cut of her outfit... Lt. Cmdr. Antero Flynn Helm Officer USS Veritas C239205AF0
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