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  1. @Kali Nicholotti's recent character arc has given us innumerable great reads. Through a seamless blending of recent IC events and moments from the character's backstory, I feel like I've really gotten to know Kalianna through these sims. This JP, in particular, weaves some particularly elegant narrative into the dialogue, making it a distinct pleasure to read. (OOC - Though he is not on these lists to see this note, I want to thank Steve for writing this up with me and helping me with this part of the arc. We hope everyone enjoys this contribution...) ((The Round Table, USS Excalibur - A)) Sleep in a time other than her own had been just as restless as any other, giving way to nightmares and the reflection of regrets she carried with her in her own time. The concerning part was that no doorway she had walked through as of yet had returned her to her own time again. Still, she continued to try, moving from the diplomatic offices, to the bridge, to engineering, the shuttle bays, and now to the Round Table lounge where a drink, perhaps, would help ease her mind. The doors, like all the others, parted, inviting her in. Stepping through changed nothing, and the nearly empty room told the tale of an ending that needed to happen. Outside the massive transparent aluminum windows at one end, the remnants of the anomaly known now as ‘Kali’s Scar’ drifted beautifully amongst the stardust backdrop. In front of one of those windows, in a seat facing the same, she caught a familiar face. He was older, with edges etched on his face that told of experiences she did not know about, and time she wasn’t there for, but beneath it all he was still the same man. Liam Frost. Stopping to order and grab a drink, she quietly approached the table and slipped into the chair next to him, following his gaze out into the stars. The lights flickered and seemed to brighten. The view outside suddenly shifted. The Scar was gone and in its place, the curvature of the planet below faded off into the darkness of space. It had been a long time since Liam Frost had found himself on board a Starfleet ship. And if he was being honest with himself, it had been a long time since he had been welcome on one. His uniform and pips had long since been put away, and his career as a Starfleet officer closed like a book that often seemed like it had ended too soon. But there was still a familiarity about it. The way the Stars looked through the windows of the lounge of a ship. The hum of the deckplates under his feet. And the energy of a crew going about keeping it working that was unmistakable. Nicholotti: Thank you for coming, Liam. It wasn’t often you got to thank a friend for being there to serve justice for your death. Time was fickle and she didn’t want that opportunity to fade before she’d said it. He didn't need to turn to see who was coming. Even if he wasn't here by her invitation, the voice of Kali Nicholotti was unmistakable to anyone who had spent any significant amount of time with her. And it didn't take much longer than that to pick up on the distinct difference between Command Kali and Casual Kali. He had seen both, and in many ways he was a fan of both. But in this particular moment he was glad to be dealing with the latter. Frost: It's been a long time since I was on a proper Starfleet ship. Nicholotti: I know. Kali nodded, looking down at her drink before looking over at him. It had been a very, very long time. She couldn’t help but smile, however slightly, and however etched with sadness. He looked down at his drink for a moment, reminiscing about all the times he had spent within the similar, but always subtly different corridors of various vessels. The people that he had known along the way. The people he had lost. The people he had left behind. There were entirely too many of them. Some of them he still kept in touch with, but it hadn't been the same. Frost: Not since… well… the funeral to be honest. Andrus Jaxx had been one of Liam's mentors. Along with Kali they were easily the two people most responsible for who he had become as an officer. Whether or not that was a good thing had become a subject of some debate and contention at his own court martial. And even though he wasn't an officer anymore, he felt that he owed a debt to his old friend and mentor to be there despite some of the sideways looks he got when he was there. Kali nodded. She completely understood. Though her own path had taken her back into command, it hadn’t been easy stepping foot on the bridge, let alone the bridge of the Resolution. Echoes of the voices of those long gone haunted her in ways that were more real than ever since the Q. Nicholotti: Do you ever think about returning? They were, at one point, thicker than thieves. From their jaunt in the past in Earth’s 1960’s, to their trip to Echevarria, Kali, Liam, Jaxx, Katy, and so many others...it physically hurt to know that some of those faces she would never see again. Certainly, they would never work together again. Frost: Sometimes. But that assumes they would have me back. Truth be told he missed the life he had built for himself in Starfleet. He believed in what he was doing, and in the people around him. And he was proud of what he had accomplished. Anyone in his position would have been. He was a part of shaping events that would be talked about and used as case studies in the Academy for decades. Some who reported on his last mission in Command of the Gemini would say that he threw it all away. They speculated on his motives from selfishness, cowardice, hubris, and outright malice. There was never any question that he had broken a number of Starfleet regulations. But one thing that remained consistent was his belief that he had done what was right. And as long as he could maintain that belief, he could live with himself. And so far he had done so. The details surrounding what were his final days as a Starfleet captain were a maelstrom of ambiguity. Everyone at the top had an opinion, and as usual, most of them stank. Kali hadn’t been given a say, other than to commission the Apollo with the remains of the crew and carry on. And it might have been one of the hardest things she ever had to do, had she had all of her memories intact at the time. As it were, regret gnawed at her even now, but not for the launch of the Apollo. No, she regretted not being there in the full capacity to save him. Nicholotti: What you do here...it matters too. Frost: It's not quite the same. But I have a good life here. Bajor has been good to me. He took a long sip of his drink as he looked out over the blue-green hues of Bajor's oceans. If you had asked him when he graduated from the Academy where he was going to end up, a flight instructor for the Bajoran Defense Force would probably not have been high up on the list. But it was where he was. And even though it wasn't Starfleet, it still gave him the one thing he wanted most; a sense of purpose. Frost: For what it's worth, you're part of why I'm here. I wasn't sure where I was going to go after I left Starfleet. It was the only life I'd ever known. I didn't have a backup plan. But the fact that you stuck your neck out for me… Her crystalline blues met his browns and she leaned her head to the side slightly as if asking the question. In return, she could see the churning behind his look. He paused for a moment. For a long time there had been a very clear distinction in Liam's mind between the Kali he had known and the Kali that came out of that void. He had very nearly had her arrested as an imposter the first time the blue-eyed version of the woman he had known and admired showed up on his bridge. But he had come to learn that the things that had made her who she was; the passion, the dedication, the determination, and the compassion, they were all still there in spades. She looked a little different, but she was still fundamentally the same person she had been before. And never was that more clear then when she had risked her reputation to speak up for him. And it was probably the biggest reason he wasn't halfway through a ten-year prison sentence. Frost: I figured I owed it to you to find a way to keep going. And here I am. A ghost of a grin, reminiscent of that which she used to often flash to those she knew well, danced across her face. Nicholotti: That, Liam, is a gift. For all you did for me, even after my death, I am glad I could give something back. Besides, the universe would have been a much colder place without the warmth brought to it by old friends. He deserved a fairer shot, perhaps, but fate, and the universe had a strange way of leading you home. She could still remember the young, [...]y pilot on his first days, and a much younger version of herself laughing at one who reminded her very much of her own antics. All told, they had been given something special and time had taken it away. But the end wasn’t always the end. Frost: Luckily for me the Bajorans were happy to bring someone with my experience on board. Nicholotti: Lucky for the Bajorans, someone with your experience was available. For a moment, Kali settled into silence, both comfortable next to one of her oldest and most trusted friends, and uncomfortable in knowing just how much was left unsaid. Nicholotti: For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. He wondered silently what she might have thought she had to be sorry for. Knowing her there were probably a dozen or more things that she thought were her fault, or her responsibility. Regardless of whether or not they actually were. Some of that was a natural part of the burden of command. At the end of the day, the decisions made by those under your command were ultimately your responsibility. If you didn't like the ones they made, the burden was on you to teach them better for the next time. It was a weight he was keenly familiar with. But in a much more real way, this was just Kali being Kali. She had always been the type to carry the weight of others on her own shoulders. Even to her own detriment at times. She was often utterly unable, or unwilling, to let others carry burdens she believed herself to be able to carry for them. Even when she appeared to be overestimating her own abilities. In many ways it garnered her the respect and the trust of those under her command faster than just about any other officer Liam had met. And the value of that trust was immeasurable. But it also meant that it was hard to separate oneself from the inevitable negatives that came with command. Every wound, every tragedy, was felt that much more keenly, cut that much deeper. And Liam was absolutely sure it was that same sense that had led her to sacrifice herself, rather than order a member of her crew to their death. And the uncomfortable truth was that he had at least some idea of how she felt. He had given the order for the Apollo to fire on a ship commanded by a terrorist. There were 1300 people on that ship. He lived with it because just about every regulation in the book said he had been justified in doing so, and the Board of Inquiry had agreed. What was less easy to live with was Vanessa Driscoll. He had ordered a young woman in the prime of her career on an away mission that she would never return from. She was a victim of a civil war that had started long before Liam had even thought of joining Starfleet, left on a planet that few in the Federation had ever even heard of. There was another possibility as well, though. And that was simply that she felt sympathy for him. Frost: Don't be. You did more for me than I could have ever asked. And as bad as it was, the chances of dying in the process were pretty low. The things that everyone had gone through after she had gone into the void, essentially killing herself, had left quite the storm in her wake. The fact that she stood there now was a miracle of time and the thought stream on the other side of the Scar, but it certainly had not been promised, nor part of the plan. Still, she stood by the actions. Nicholotti: I still would have done it, even knowing, but, maybe I would have walked away a little bit differently. The question hadn't been asked explicitly, but it was clearly enough implied, at least between the two of them. There were people that he could say he was closer to in some ways, but it would be a mistake to dismiss the familiarity that serving together the way he had with Kali created. And in a way, being out of the uniform made it that much easier, knowing that there were no protocols and regulations to dance around either. Being able to look back and see things for what they were, her final words to those she loved, those she respected and cared about, for everyone involved...they would have been different. She would have hugged Jaxx a bit tighter that last time, spoken softer and with more understanding to Silveira, and let everyone know just what they meant to her. Frost: Yeah, I know that feeling. Leaving behind someone who had died was never easy. It left wounds that took a long time to heal, if at all. But there was a finality to it. There was time enough to wonder what if, but no amount of wondering would change the way things were. What was often harder was the ones that were still around. He could think of a few names on that list. People that he wanted to reach out to. To explain. To apologize. To say a thousand or more words that he hadn't known how to say before. Or been too frightened to say. And if he was going to be perfectly honest, one of the biggest reasons he hadn't reached out was that he was still too frightened. Whether it was true or not, he had it in his mind that most of them wouldn't be too thrilled to hear from him. Nicholotti: And we all have our demons that we carry with us to the grave. Sometimes not even that can shed them. Frost: Well that's an uncharacteristically bleak take. Kali nodded. Perhaps it was, but no one really knew what she had been living since the Resolution’s tango with the time loop. The Kali that Liam had first gotten to know could best be described as an optimistic realist. She believed that the best outcomes were possible, but that they wouldn't happen if one wasn't prepared to work for them. She also believed in preparing for the worst outcomes as well. At least to the extent that one could prepare for such a thing. By just about any measure, Kali had been through one of the worst possible outcomes someone could experience. She had, by every existing definition, died. People generally did not come back from that sort of thing. And yet here she was. He had to assume that an experience like that would change a person, though he couldn't begin to truly fathom how. Nicholotti: Let’s just say I’ve been reliving history as of late. Her crystalline blues flicked upwards and met his eyes, holding them for a long moment. For the briefest moment, it seemed that something changed in her. He couldn't quite put into words how it looked, or even be sure if it was something he could actually see. It was as though she were somehow outside herself, as if she were looking in on this moment as an observer, or an audience member, rather than being a part of it. Perhaps that was some sort of leftover effect from what she went through in the rift. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like. He had been unconscious before. And perhaps from her perspective being dead wasn't all that different. You were aware of something one moment, then, all of a sudden, you were aware of something completely different, with little to no memory or understanding of what had happened in between those two moments. It was only the people around you who could tell you exactly what had happened in those intervening moments. And that was where things really hit you. Nicholotti: Or perhaps my sins are haunting me. Either way, it brings me peace to know you’re alright. And it did. With so many connections lost, it was a relief to know that at least one had survived. The once fresh-faced ensign-turned-captain-turned-civilian had quite literally walked through his own hell, but he was there. He was alive. He had survived just like she had, in a way. Frost: I've got more than enough skeletons to fill my closet. There was a long list of names of people he felt like he had done wrong by, that he owed an apology to. He wasn't sure how many of them would be willing to hear one from him. And to say nothing of those that weren't around to hear one even if they would. Frost: Prophets know there's enough people that I owe an apology to. Or at least a better explanation than the one I gave them. He gave her a deliberate look and raised his glass in her direction. Frost: But at least I can cross one name off that list. Kali nodded. She understood and grabbed her own glass, raising it in return. Nicholotti: One of perhaps many. Maybe you should keep going. There was something cathartic in the process of reconnecting, of speaking thoughts that had weighed heavily on the mind for years and years. When you share life, and death, with people the way that a Starfleet crew did, a bond gets built that is difficult to tear down, especially as quickly as some of the transfers come. When things happen, such as her death, that change, that transition becomes even more complicated. Second chances didn’t happen often. Frost: Well considering this one went better than I expected that it might, I might just have to. He had always found it awkward to reach out to someone that he hadn't spoken to in a while. Especially when it got to the point where he had become very aware of how long he had let things go without doing so. And all things considered, it was just about time that he found a way to get over that and start to mend some fences. Or at least offer to. And if they weren't interested in hearing him out, he could at least say that he tried. That got him a smile. The voices in the back of her mind lingered, ever threatening, but for the moment they remained quelled by a very loud, and very real voice from her past sitting right in front of her. And even with the years that had gone by, even with the history that had passed between them, there was still something worth sharing. There was still wisdom, camaraderie, and friendship. Nicholotti: Time is a fickle thing. We never really know when it’s done, but until it is, it’s never too late to start over. Her own advice resonated through her mind as the images of a painted sky danced in her mind. Tiny drops of color shared between two minds, emotions passing between barriers that didn’t really exist save for the non-telepaths reminded her of chances at life, at happiness and at love. She saw the ideas reflected in her friend’s eyes as well. He held up his glass to her once again. Frost: To new beginnings. Kali raised her glass again, this time with a broad smile. Frost: I suppose it's entirely possible I'm just in my own head about how long it's been. Drinking what was left down, Kali shook her head. Nicholotti: No, it’s been that long, but I meant what I said. It’s not too late until it’s over. Liam found it reassuring to know that at least he wasn't starting from scratch. He had begun the process a few times, though he'd done little in the way of follow-through. He had a more or less complete list of names. And had even managed to confirm that most of them were still in Starfleet. Or at least had Starfleet-adjacent careers. But that was the easy part. With eyes that fell on the planet drifting lazily beyond the window, it shocked her when it momentarily disappeared. Replaced, again, by the image of the Scar jutting across the sky, Kali’s eyes narrowed as the voices in her mind suddenly grew louder and the surrounding area grew dimmer and colder. Time was, indeed, a fickle thing. Even she understood the meaning. She closed her eyes for a long moment until the warmth returned. Frost: I hope the folks on my list share that sentiment. And when she opened them, he was there next to her again. She smiled knowingly, looking over at him. Nicholotti: Don’t waste it, Liam. Don’t waste whatever you have left. Find them, tell them. Say what you need to say. And there was the other half. The insightful and sincere Kali. The one who was, when called upon, able to make an emotional appeal that was in every way as convincing as raw Vulcan logic. It was a side of her that he always felt struck a delicate balance. He had seen it often enough to know that it was utterly genuine. But just rare enough to know just how important it was to her. Which only made it that much more convincing. He smiled again. There was a weight, small enough that he had almost forgotten he was carrying it, that seemed to drift out of the room. Frost: Hey, just because you aren't my superior officer anymore doesn't mean I don't know how to follow a sensible order. The dull roar in her head was returning and she knew something was up. The draw to find Addison was real, though she was certainly sure she had no idea what to say when she found her. Kali shook her head. She stood, moved towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. Nicholotti: Promise me you won’t be a stranger? You just need to call. I’ll be there. A whole new level of seriousness flowed through her crystalline blues as she looked at him. Her grip was perhaps a bit too tight, not wanting to let go, but knowing that time itself was messing with her. She did what she could to lock this moment, this memory up tight and keep it safe. And there it was. He knew it was coming, but it still hit him like a punch in the gut. He had told himself at least a hundred times that it was something he needed to do. But he had just as often managed to find a reason to avoid it. But it was a lot harder to ignore it when it was coming from someone else. And even more so when it was someone he admired and respected as much as Kali. They had been through too much together for that, too many times she had trusted his decisions, too many times she had put faith in him to keep everyone under her command safe, to say nothing about what she had been through herself since then. As hard as it was to hear her say it to him, ignoring it at this point would be an insult to everything they had been through together. Frost: I promise. And if you ever find yourself anywhere near Bajor, my door is open. I know a place near my house that serves a Bajoran shrimp stir-fry so good it'll make you want to move here. And then she smiled, loosening her hand slightly just before turning to go. Nicholotti: Good. I look forward to it. She might have left it at that, and walked away, but she took only one step before she stopped and turned back. Nicholotti: Liam. Thank you. For everything. Always. Liam smiled in her direction again. It was odd to have her thanking him. The way he saw it the balance of favour owed leaned heavily in her direction. He knew she would never have made anything of it, but he was quite firm in his belief that he owed her more than he could ever hope to repay. He liked to think that he had become at least a touch more humble since he had first graduated the Academy, full of bravado and with so much to prove. And one of the reasons for it was the selflessness that the crews he served with had shown. Their willingness to put themselves out for others and for who and what they believed in. Frost: it's nothing you wouldn't have done for me. For as much success as he had earned in his life, he still had trouble properly accepting genuine thanks. He made a mental note to try and work on that as well. As he watched her turn to leave, he became very suddenly aware of a weight near his chest. But unlike before, this weight was very much real rather than metaphorical. Frost: Kali? He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small datachip. She leaned her head slightly to the side and offered him a questioning look before her eyes narrowed in on the chip itself. Nicholotti: What’s this? Frost: I'm not sure what right I have to ask for favours, but maybe you could help start this whole process along a bit. The road toward absolution was a rocky one, and it was always better to travel with friends. Kali knew this first hand. Overwhelmed with feelings of loneliness as a result of her own, self-fabricated walls, she envied his strength, and certainly did not spurn his request in any way. Nicholotti: I’d be honored to. What is it? He hesitated a moment before he held out the small chip for her. He knew that once he handed her the chip, there was going to be no going back on this process. And maybe that was what he needed. Frost: It's a message for an old friend that I've been meaning to deliver. There was hesitation, but Kali understood. She gave him his time, despite the flickering of the lights. Time be damned, some things would stand its test. Her boots were planted. She would stand. Nicholotti: Who do I get it to? There was her solid agreement, her promise, to get it to where it needed to go, even before she knew where it was going. Frost: Randal Shayne. Last I checked he was the CO of the USS Arrow. He was assigned to the Gemini out of the Academy. Always took a shine to him. He kind of reminded me of… well… me. Kali couldn’t help but grin. She remembered a very young Ensign Frost, bright eyed, raring to go, confident to the hilt, complete with every bit of swagger that a good pilot should have had - and all of the skills to back it up. The raven-haired command officer had taken a liking to him immediately, having seen perhaps a bit of herself in that reflection. It must have been a pilot thing. The years had tempered him, perhaps, but the skill remained, and the experiences had shaped him into one hell of a man. Nicholotti: Full of life with a side of a pilot’s ostentation? Frost: Yeah. And also with a lot to prove. He handed over the chip, knowing that it was now officially out of his hands. It wasn't too bad. At least he knew that Randal was hoping to hear from him, which made the process easier, though slightly more embarrassing that he hadn't done so sooner. But there was nothing that he could do about it now. Taking the chip, Kali nodded an understanding. The bridges would begin their mending now, at least for him. For her...the lights dimmed slightly, momentarily, as she slipped the chip safely away. Nicholotti: The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Frost: Well I gotta start somewhere. Nodding, she offered him one last, knowing smile. Nicholotti: Perhaps today we start together. Her crystalline eyes held his gaze for a moment longer than she meant to, making it hard to turn away, but she knew it was coming. It took work, but she said one final, silent farewell to her old friend and turned away, leaving the lounge and doing her best to make her way to her quarters before she time-jumped again. Or before the tears fell. Whichever came first. TBC -- Fleet Captain Kalianna Nicholotti Commanding Officer USS Resolution R238605KN0 And Major Liam Frost Senior Flight Instructor Bajoran Military Academy Former Commanding Officer, USS Gemini
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  2. Poor Commander @TLea... The burdens of command 😄.
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  3. The Vulcan mind and fashion hard at work. lol. Loved this! @Sival
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  5. Nice try! lol Love seeing this side of Aria.
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  6. Hi new friends, my name is Sarah. I'm 31 years old and currently located in Germany, though after living abroad for almost ten years it's more of a temporary stop for me to be back home. I got a dog called Monkey who likes to lay on top of my feet whenever I don't move for more than five minutes, and generally follows me around everywhere. He's pretty sure he's the baby and should get all the hugs and cuddles (and he does). I work as merchant support staff for an e-commerce platform and am currently in the process of progressing to a team that fixes the code of a theme once the merchant breaks it. I found programming is a thing I really enjoy as long as its frontend related and aesthetically pleasing. Other than that I play a lot of Heroes of the Storm (Blizzards version of League of Legends) and used to spend a good two to three hours per day on text-based RP. Other thing I enjoy is Horror. I play some games on my PS4, love creepypasta, movies, and that kind of stuff - as long as it contains a plot rather than random gore. I recently started to write my own short stories and reading more books, and I noticed I really prefer Sci-Fi more than most other genres. I am trying out different writing styles, and at the moment am emulating Neal Shusterman and the style of the Unwind novels which I love for being fairly fast-pace and disturbing. This group is something I found through the power of Google a few months ago, but was too occupied DMing and planning my own events, and admittedly a little nervous about joining a group of people that probably know a lot more than I do. It's a little weird because while I am still getting up to date on current Star Trek matters, I know A LOT about Cardassian lore. Who would have guessed that DS9 is my favourite Star Trek, right?
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  7. Beautiful! @Sival What a very Vulcan way to approach our lovable Mr. Tito.
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  8. I hesitate to post this as the story is still ongoing, but man, did I get goose bumps at the end of this installment! Very relatable and familiar, just superb writing from @Etan Iljor and @Meidra Sirin! If your heart doesn't pick up it's pace, you're not really reading it! ((Etan Family Homestead, Muscilla Province, Bajor)) ((Time Skip: That Evening)) Dinner was a subdued affair, awkwardly so once more. Iljor didn't feel hungry nor in the mood to converse. He didn't know how to bring the purpose of his visit up. It seemed almost rude to just come out with it. He exchanged several glances with Meidra, who returned them with a hint of encouragement. He had hoped to do it earlier in the day, however Pa had spent much of the day in Talmulna on business and Ma had joined him for… reasons. Now they were together as a family and Ma was wittering on about her day as if she didn't have a care in the world. Etan Oona: You are wasting away, my son - don’t they feed you on that ship of yours? Meidra, does he not eat? Sirin: ::smiling:: I know he eats lunch at least once a week, we have a standing lunch date every week to discuss our research on various projects. He’s helped me immensely in my quest to understand Bajoran language and culture. I find myself quite fascinated by it. Etan Oona: ::to Iljor:: All the more reason for you to eat! That mind of yours needs nourishment. Meidra saw the tension grown on Iljor’s face, and wished that she could take some of it away from him. He seemed to become more agitated with every comment from his parents. She thought of sending him calming thoughts, but in his state, they would most likely be seen as obtrusive. She would watch him closely though, and be ready to step in if needed. Etan Rehr: What's wrong Iljor, you've hardly touched your broth? Etan Iljor: Oh? Er, it's nothing. Just not hungry. ::beat:: I had a big lunch. It was a clumsy lie. Yes, he didn't feel like he had the stomach for a meal- but he was ravenous. He didn’t have an appetite at lunch, either. He was certain that if supped his hasperat broth, he would vomit. Not because it was disgusting (quite the opposite)- but because of what he knew needed to be done. Oona looked at her son through narrowed eyes. If this did not have something to do with the guest he had brought into their home, it was something else. They had never kept secrets from each other. A little voice inside of her scoffed, but she silenced it as she had been doing for decades. There were some things a child did not need to know of their parents. Sirin: Oo This is not good. oO Etan Oona: I can tell that something is weighing upon you, za’dana. Tell your mother what is wrong. We do not keep secrets in this house. Now it was Ma’s turn to lie. Iljor drew in a breath and bit his lip. Meidra looked anywhere but at her friend. She could hear his sharp intake of breath at his mother’s comment, and knew it was just a matter of time before words were going to be spoken that would change this small family forever. She felt an immense pain within her chest, and realized that she could feel Iljor’s struggle. Swallowing tears that were only partly hers, she tried to sip her broth so that she would not say something that would set a spark to this kindling. Beside Oona, Rehr reached out and placed his hand on hers hoping that the gesture would calm her rising anxiety. Etan Iljor: Honestly, ::he said a little harsher than he intended.:: I'm fine. I'm just not hungry! Oona stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. Something was very wrong, and she was beginning to think that the officer that her son had brought was more than just a potential wife, or a best friend. There was something more to this, and she had a sick feeling that she was not going to like it when it was revealed. She tried to get the truth out of her son anyway. She could not rest until she could set things right with him. She sat down again, taking a long sip of springwine. Etan Oona: A mother knows these things, Iljor. You are hiding something and I want to know what has you so upset. ::puts down her glass:: I could tell from the moment you arrived that there was something wrong. Is this because Meidra won’t go out with you? Meidra choked on her wine. How was this conversation going so wrong when no one was actually saying anything to each other? Iljor’s face twisted as though he was trying not to cry, and she wanted to reach out and hold his hand. She paused though as Oona did not need any more ideas in her head. Etan Iljor: Ma, please. I'm okay. ::he wasn't, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of being right.:: And no, I don't want to date Meidra- she's my friend. ::the exasperation in his voice was beginning to dominate.:: Etan Oona: I have seen you when you are happy, and when you are not. You are not happy, and I will have my answers. ::looks between Meidra and Iljor:: There is something going on, and you both are hiding it from us. I was patient last night because you had just arrived, but now I can see that this has been growing inside of you. Tell me. He could feel his irritation transmogrifying into anger. The gnarled black knot in his stomach grew, twisting ever tighter as it choked his abdomen. Blood rushed and thundered in his ears as an eerie quiet settled upon the room, he could feel ice coursing through his fingers. And in his throat, the words he had longed to say threatened to spew forth- like an uncontrollable tide of bitter bile. Like spoken vomit. Words desperate to escape him. Etan Rehr: Iljor, your mother is just worried about you. The truth was, so was he. Rehr had been so happy to see his only soon and it had not been until Oona raised the possibility of something untoward that he had begun to consider it. He hated that his mind went to that place, but then again he hated much about himself. It was why he rarely slept more than three hours a night. The blood was rushing so loudly in her head that Oona could not hear anything else. The silence crushed her hope that this was an easily resolved misunderstanding, and each breath fed into her rising panic. Etan Oona: Your father is too. We have been discussing this and both agree that you are keeping something from us. You are being a willful child and disrespectful to the people who have given you life, who have given you everything of themselves. I want to hear from your lips whatever this is about! I will not sit here and watch you mutter and twist our love around to be a burden to you. ::her words grow harsh, but she can’t seem to control them:: You have done something and wish to tell us, is that it? Have you done something wrong, Iljor? Etan: I- ::his voice crackled and trembled. His breathing started to become ragged. He closed his eyes and looked down at his broth.:: I- don't want to talk about it. Not now. I jus- Oona wasn’t sure where this overwhelming fear in her belly was coming from, only that it would not be quelled. She’d been more than patient, had given Iljor time to come to her last night, the way that he always would as a child when something disturbed him. For him to not do that, and now, not even look her in the eyes? It was unbearable, and she found it hard to maintain her composure. Etan Oona: Answer me, Iljor. I will not have this fester one moment longer in my home. What have you done that you cannot tell us? We are your parents, we deserve to know what is wrong. Are you running from something? Is this why you come to us with special permission from your captain? Do they even know you are gone? Etan Iljor: It's nothing like that, I'm not in trouble or on the run. It's just- it's just-.... ::he could feel the word vomit rising. He was determined not to crack.:: Sirin: Perhaps this isn’t the best time. ::turns to Iljor:: You may have to just say it now. Etan Iljor: oO No! Not now, not this way! Not like this! Oo He balled both hands into fists so tight that it hurt. Etan Rehr: Iljor, what's wrong? ::his voice was as calm and serene as ever, full of love and full of concern.:: Oona, why don't you- Iljor shot to his feet and swatted his bowl off of the table where its bowl shattered on the cobblestone floor. He didn't care. Etan Iljor: You what to know what's wrong with me?! ::he bellowed, eyes ablaze with unrestrained fury.:: You really want to know?! ::the words were unstoppable now and he didn't much care.:: How about discovering that your parents, the man and woman who raised you- were involved in a massacre of religious refugees during the Occupation and have been covering it up for thirty years?! ::his lips were pursed together and his chest heaved and fell as he glared at the ashen faces of his parents.:: How's that for "what's on your mind, son?"? ::he added, scornful.:: — To Be Continued…
    5 points
  9. This was a nugget! I almost missed it during the first read through, but this really cracked me up! Our newest Ensign is meeting the First Officer along with a couple of other new officers who are transferring in.
    5 points
  10. I am enjoying @Ikaia Wong’s journey to become a more confident leader, and the thought of multiple Wongs makes me giggle. ((Dreamscape)) Ikaia glanced around him, rubbing his eyes. He had been trying to decide which flu strain he should vaccinate against in the upcoming flu season. His bets were on either Levodian flu or Kamaraazite flu. He went over the statistics provided to him by Starfleet Medical. It looked to him that it might be Levodian. This wasn’t great. But the duration of the flu was shorter in most humanoids. But it didn’t make it any less contagious. He took a moment to lean back in his chair and just look up at the ceiling. By all appearances, he was in the CMO’s office again. It felt normal. Like home. This was great. This was fantastic. This was too good to be true. At that moment, Ikaia heard a knock on the door. He sat up and brushed himself off. Wong: Come in! The door opened and he saw… exactly TWO different versions of himself. One of them is sporting engineering gold with a wonderful beard. He also had a container of popcorn in his hands. The other was wearing command red with his hair down and…. Did he have coconuts shoved down his shirt?! Ikaia blinked a few times as both Klingons sat down. Wong: Ah! Uh! Greetings! How may I help you today? Gold-Wong: Hello, Lieutenant. It’s not so much as how you can help us…. Red-Wong: ….It's more like how we can help you. Wong: Uh okay. How so--- I’m sorry. Those coconuts are really distracting. Gold-Wong: See? Told you they’d distract him! Red-Wong: He shouldn’t be looking! Gold-Wong: Just ditch them. He already knows who you’re representing anyways! The Wong clad in red just sighed as he removed the coconuts from his shirt. But he did so with an eye roll. Ikaia gave a curious head tilt at his duplicates. They were clearly representing Rahman and Ukinix respectively. In a rare opportunity, he decided to ask a question he wouldn’t ordinarily ask! Wong: Ah! Quick question if you really don’t mind - Is Commander Ukinix’s beard lucky? Does he rub it for luck or something? Gold-Wong: Yes and yes. Every morning. Wong: ::Snaps his fingers:: Knew it! ::A beat:: Er… sorry. Please continue. Red-Wong: Okay. So we know you’ve been following Rahman’s and Ukinix’s advice as well as everything you’ve learned from your studies. Gold-Wong: You may not be thinking the words. But we have heard it - What would Rahman do? What would Ukinix do? What would Sampi do? The Wong in engineering gold tried to toss a piece of popcorn into the air to try to catch it. Instead, it rebounded off the side of his mouth and onto the floor. Wong: I learned a lot from them. Rahman, Ukinix, Toliver, Blake, Sampi… they’ve all taught me so much about leadership and myself. I’ve been working hard. Gold-Wong: In asking what everyone else would do, you also need to keep asking what you would do. You’ve learned so much from everyone else. But who are you as a leader? A tiny bit of dust fell on Ikaia's desk. He looked up and saw no reason for the dust. It had almost distracted him from the question. He was thinking about it. His mind searched for what the answer was. Wong: I….. I don’t know. I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it before. I’ve been busy applying theories and everything I learned. Some days, I’m not sure I’m even doing this right. There are times I second guess myself. Days I sometimes wonder if I made the right choice. Red-Wong: You’re going to need to figure it out. Everyone in the mine is counting on you. Wong: I know, I know! I just…. Need to think. A touch of rock dust fell onto Ikaia’s desk. Red-Wong: You may want to consider waking up. You fell asleep while meditating again. You’re definitely drooling a little. There was more dust falling onto the desk followed up by rocks. Ikaia looked up and an expression of absolute horror crossed his face as he could see a large boulder about to come straight down on him---- ((Deep within Russell River Mines)) ----Ikaia woke up suddenly with a loud gasp. His hand flew up to his chest and his breathing heavy. He quickly glances up at the roof of the mine and nothing. No boulder threatening to smash him. Nothing. For the moment, Ikaia was safe. Wong: ::A relieved sigh:: It’s just a dream…. He gave himself a moment or two to calm down as he reached up and touched his face. Sure enough, there was a touch of drool at the corner of his mouth. That was unbecoming. He wiped himself off with the back of his hand and picked up the SIMs beacon he had been using as a makeshift meditation candle. Although, he did have it off just to save power. Ikaia had also picked up the PADD with his playlist on it. Something that would have helped him meditate. Apparently, he had nodded off while listening to it. Ikaia paused for a moment. He had the feeling someone had been watching him. S’Ten: Response. Wong: Ah! Mister S’Ten! Sorry! I wasn’t expecting you. S’Ten: Response. Wong: Well, it’s a Vulcan technique. I went to the Academy with quite a few of them and well, I picked up a few things along the way. S’Ten: Response. Wong: How are you feeling? S’Ten: Response. Wong: Ah. So that’s what brought you by? S’Ten: Response Lieutenant JG Ikaia Wong Physician Assistant USS Veritas V239711IW0
    5 points
  11. Okay, @Arys had a great one-liner about our First Officer. Thought I would share. oO Was… that a joke?… This Vulcan is defective. Oo
    4 points
  12. I already adore @TLea ———————— Trovek: … well I like a dark blue. Like, really dark. What’s yours? T’Lea: Black. Blunt and honest. Whatever the counselor wanted to read into her answer was, as far as T’Lea was concerned, strictly nonsense. Liking a certain color didn’t quantify or categorize a person’s mental health. Black was easy and didn’t require much thought. And it was dark and scary and made T’Lea feel good. Okay maybe there was something to it, but that’s not why she had asked.
    4 points
  13. Did you see something memorable aboard the Chin'toka that you want to recognize? Drop it in this thread! Whether it's a mishap or just Toryn being Toryn, this is the place for it.
    4 points
  14. Only if they promise not to call my boat a 'bathtub toy' ever again. ::Grumbles.::
    4 points
  15. ESPECIALLY that last part... We're in for something...:D
    4 points
  16. We all better be on the look out for our new Counselor. She out "tactical-ed" the grumpy Tactical officer. @Arys @Vitor S. Silveira
    4 points
  17. Okay, I just couldn't resist. This was an absolutely delightful and funny introduction sim from our new Counselor! Great start! (( Lightside Station - Starlight Market )) Once Arys found herself on Lightside Station she couldn’t help but regret not being here for recreational purposes. She had visited the angry jellyfish that was Deep Space Nine and found some appreciation for the Cardassian aesthetic, but this was entirely different. There were large open spaces and botanical gardens, restaurants, gambling establishments, nightclubs, theatres.. a spa… There even was an authentic Irish Pub with real food. Should she not make it in Starfleet, she would settle down here. A small private practise close to one of the gardens. oO Great Arys, you haven’t even started Plan A and are already thinking about Plan B. How about you go and find your ship before plotting your exit strategy. And try not to get lost. Oo Arys hated to admit it, but there was a good chance she already was lost. She wandered through Starlight Market and every now and then forgot what she was looking for, and entered one of the shops instead. This time she found herself entering a softly lit establishment that smelled of foreign herbs and spices. At the back of the shop was a wooden counter where a small older woman smiled kindly at her. A cup of tea and half an hours worth of conversation later, Arys was directed to Deck 423 and made her way to where she hoped to find her new crew. oO I haven’t seen a single Starfleet Uniform so far, or I could just ask them.. with my luck this is the wrong Lightside Station. Or I got the wrong assignment. Or I missed them because I had tea… ::She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts:: Ooooor they are not in uniform. Since you’re not in uniform either. Now stop being a weirdo. oO She sighed and very subtly followed a brown haired human who looked like he was headed into the same direction. Surely enough, he eventually approached a large crowd gathering around a pavilion, and Arys watched him greet and smile at others before getting something to eat. Good strategy. oO Just smile and nod, I guess. These are a LOT of people.. I found seventy hard to deal with. How many people does the Juneau actually have on board? Five hundred? Seven hundred? Either way the number seemed a lot less intimidating when it had just been that - a number, and not all those new faces. Oo It was a bit of a relief when she noticed people smile and nod at her. Someone even offered a ‘great to see you again’. Which was amusing since she was pretty sure that she had never seen this person before, and she concluded that smiling, nodding, and blending in was an appropriate way of handling the situation. Deciding that her new life as a stalker wasn’t something she wanted to give up yet, she decided to approach the human she had been following as he introduced himself to a man and woman. Kendrick: My name is John by the way. John Kendrick. Qinn: response Falt: response Arys: I apologise for hijacking your introductions. My name is Arys, I’ve just been assigned to the Juneau, and I don’t know anyone here yet. ::She smiled a lot more confidently than she actually felt:: It is however very nice to meet you. Kendrick: response Qinn: response Falt: response Arys: I believe I am supposed to report to Lieutenant Commander T’Lea. Would you be able to point me into the right direction? Kendrick: response Qinn: response Falt: response ———————————— Ensign Trovek Arys Counsellor USS Juneau J239809TA4
    4 points
  18. Doohickey is in the handbook. Don't check that though, take my word
    4 points
  19. You can tell @Alieth is a real dogfriend. This sim put a smile on my face so, deserves a spot here. And the Admiral didn't throw either in the brig so it's a win-win. 😃 ((Stick House, Deck 8, USS Gorkon)) After reached her new favorite place, Cheesecake have picked a stick for her very newest friend, then, she flopped down on her chest, hindquarters still held high, in a clear playful attitude. The big mastiff was overjoyed, things couldn't be better. In fact her day couldn't have been nicer. It was just perfect! Her dull morning had turned into an ADVENTURE with NEW friends and NEW things and places and.... Reynolds: What the— Uh-oh The animal froze in place, tail halfway to a happy wag. Her ears flicked back in concern. Liva: Hello. ::She smiled some more, readjusting the bag.:: Is this your dog? Reynolds: No. That’s Cheesecake Watanabe. ::Her head canting to the side, Quinn squinted at the sight in front of her.:: She’s Lieutenant Alieth’s, our science chief. Uh-oh.. Watanabe: ::innocently:: worf? Her new friend's attitude changed beside her and the hand buried in Cheesecake's fur trembled slightly, a telltale indication of nervousness. Familiar with her role as a therapy dog, Cheesecake leaned against her leg (or, rather, against the whole tiny woman) as a demonstration of support. Including, of course, a gentle nudge with her head that would unbalance nearly any biped under seventy kilos. Liva: I don’t understand. Why did she take me here? She didn't break anything in there, did she? Her tone wasn't cheerful at all, so the large canine gave an animated wag of her tail and leaned more firmly against her. She was a good girl. The best. Of course the tallest biped (the friend of the human with the pets and the balls in her pokets!) couldn't be mad if she was being SUCH a good girl, right? That frown that started to crease over her eyes would soon be gone, wouldn't it? Would it? Yesssssss? Pretty please? Reynolds: How she took you here is the far more interesting question, because this is a restricted area. Neither a vet nor a dog should be able to wander into shuttle maintenance unaccompanied; it’s a security and a health and safety risk. ::Her tone flattened, and she crossed her arms with a frown.:: Maybe someone took it upon themselves to change the clearance requirements because it’s my workshop. UH-OH... Watanabe: ::soft whimpering:: arf…. The big cream-coloured mastiff plopped down on her hindquarters and lowered her ears, contrite for... she didn't really know why, but that face always scored points. And the puppy eyes. The usual whole repertoire. Even in an act of remarkable willpower, Cheesecake poked the stick with her nose towards the annoyed biped. Liva: Your workshop? I… I am so sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean... We didn't mean to intrude. I followed her, thinking she wanted to show me where I was needed. ::Her hand moved to the furry head, swallowing before she tried to put on a brave smile.:: So you don’t need any help? Reynolds: No. And what do you mean you followed her? She was unaccompanied? Liva: Response The bipeds kept talking, trading information that escaped the canine's understanding except for the occasional glance in her direction, so the animal did the only sensible thing: she remained VERY still and tried to make herself VERY small. A real challenge when she had been luring several bipeds into feeding her treats and her figure was... rounder than usual. Of course most of it was fur and fluff but it still didn't make the process of shrinking into invisibility any easier. Reynolds: I see. ::She gestured toward the door.:: Well, let’s get the pair of you to your quarters for now. And please, call me Admiral Reynolds or Doctor Reynolds, whichever you prefer. I don’t care for ma’am. Liva: Response Watanabe: ::Relieved:: Bork, bork! Scooping the stick from the floor, Quinn offered it to Cheesecake and shepherded the rogue pair out of the maintenance area. The mastiff interpreted the gesture as a sign of peace and took the piece of wood excitedly, her whole body frisky and energetic like a fawn in springtime. It seemed that it was time to go somewhere else (to another adventure!) and that she was invited. And with a stick! Cheesecake didn't drop it not even to push the hand of the tallest biped with her wet (and really lovely) nose. And then her whole head, and her whole long, shaggy back before she pranced forward in front of the couple in a spirited fashion. Behind her back the women continued their conversation, oblivious to (or perhaps encouraged by) her playfulness. Reynolds: Don’t worry about it. ::Finally, she found a small grin.:: At least you’ll have an interesting story to tell your new colleagues. Always handy to have an icebreaker. Liva: Response Cheesecake didn't understand what they were saying and didn't really care, she only knew that she was in the company of two good friends, that she had a stick and that the day was fantastic. And that as long as they needed her ('cause who didn't need a furry friend or a wet snout?) she would be there for them. [[FIN]] ================================= Crewman, 1st Class Cheesecake Watanabe The captain's bestest friend USS Gorkon NCC-82293 E239702A10
    4 points
  20. Have you ever known a huge secret, like something so fantastic and epic you can't wait for it to get started? You're chomping at the bit to tell people, but you know you'll spoil it? This is me right now aching to get our current mission kicking! And this sim from @Quentin Collins III solidifies my childish excitement!! ---- It had been almost a decade since the tomb-ship had moved. Longer still since life had trod its levels. But it seemed it's path through the Isles had positioned it for all sorts of re-acquaintances. Back to light and matter and even a touch of life. Time would tell if they would actually survive it's contact with the tomb-ship but its deckings hummed with an ambient energy all the same. One long thought lost to the ravages of time and cosmic tides. Hosting its first “guests” in the Ferengi; the first in centuries. It's journey had started long ago, but was longer still from ever being complete. Bound a holy mission but then lost to the indifference of space. And a souring in the faith of its crew. One further twisted by time and distance from home. More than a hundred decks carried these stories and more. But that may have been lost on the scavengers that had first discovered her, hanging carefully and hidden in their personal space-fold. Itself another odd quirk of the deep decay that had set into the ship's bowels. Decay that couldn't be reversed now, only managed. By hands inexperienced in the work of its management. But as charged energy particulates danced across its hull, revealing its massive shape and form to open space for the first time in years, something else stirred it the lowest depths of its deepest holds. Something that forgotten what the light even looked liked. But not what the smell of meat smelled like. Groans and creaky wails started to echo from the lower decks. Not all of them mechanical in nature. To Be Continued… -- THE SPACE HULK Ancient Derelict Once Thought Lost to Time As simmed by -- Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins III Chief Science Officer -- U.S.S. ARROW NCC-69829 ID: E239512QC0 -- F.N.S. CONTRIBUTOR (SB118 Forums)
    4 points
  21. I am sure most of you are aware of the wonderful story line that these talented writers have developed. Again, if you manage the time, please, read it all. It is still in progress, but it is so worthy of praise. I want to thank the three of you. Not only for this one, but for being in the same crew. I am honored to team up with you. A word of caution, this isn't an easy reading. It made a knot on my throat since I read it and as I am posting it now it still does. But I am grateful that you wrote it. Thank you again and wonderful job. IC: ((Etan Family Homestead)) ((Time Index: Three Days Later)) Rehr had not slept since that fateful night. Everytime he tried to close his eyes, the image he saw through the viewer of the binoculars haunted him, seared onto his mind like the charred flesh on the child’s dead mother. Everytime he looked at his reflection in the mirror, a stranger stared back at him. A stranger with bloodshot eyes and a guilty conscience. It was a man who knew that his days were numbered. A man who would soon know the cold embrace of death at the hand’s of a Cardassian firing squad- or at Moparu’s. A man who would never know the serenity afforded those who reached the Celestial Temple. A man who had taken innocent lives. He didn’t know who had been in that warehouse on that awful night, but he knew that it was not members of the Obsidian Order. The Cardassian secret police did not put children in harm’s way- one of the few decencies they abided by. His gut also told him that it had not been Central Command either. They had been civilians- a family, perhaps. Each time he came to that realisation he vomited, disgusted with himself. He had kept his distance from Oona, afraid of what she might think of him. He had busied himself in the fields, trying to use his farmer’s duties as a way to distract his tortured thoughts and to keep his wife from seeing the truth of how he felt. They saw each other at mealtimes but rarely spoke to one another. They shared their bed but the gulf between them felt wide and insurmountable. Passion had died. As he splashed cold water upon his face, he heard creaking on the stairs behind him and the tell tale footsteps of his wife. He did not look up as the frigid sting of the winter water hit his face. He just stood in front of the sink, limp from exhaustion willing her to leave him be. Oona: We need to talk. Rehr: No. ::came his simple response, as evenly as he could muster.:: He had perhaps managed an hour of tortured sleep: filled with horrific nightmares, too disturbing to describe. He had woken in tears and had wept silently into his pillow, wondering just who that child and mother were. Who he had orphaned. Oona: You aren’t sleeping, you aren’t speaking. You aren’t living. We need to talk. He went to respond when a knock at the door of their home rooted him to the spot, icy fear paralysing him. This was it. This was the day he died. The Cardassians had found them. Or Moparu. His breaths came quickly and shallow as panic set in. His eyes grew wide, fixated on the wooden, windowless door. His hands began to shake and a single tear escaped from the corner of his right eye. Oona: ::calmly:: We should answer that. He willed himself to move. Unsteady on his feet, he crossed the cobblestoned kitchen and reached for the doorknob. He twisted it with hands that would not cease to shake and prepared himself as best as he could for the end. It took him several seconds that felt like an eternity to realise that on the other side of the open door was a Vedek, not a Cardassian or Moparu. A Vedek in brilliant robes of purple and red with an orange sash draped across their right shoulder and trailing down to the floor behind them. Their earring was hidden by a hat bisected into five pointed segments, the tallest of which hung over their forehead in a sharp point of royal purple fabric. He heard Oona’s footsteps behind him. Vedek Ishi Aba inclined her head towards them both, before giving them a warm smile. Too warm, possibly. She was nervous about what she had been sent here to do. If their sources were correct, these two had killed. Opinions differed on whether they were accidental murderers or cold-blooded executioners. Rehr: Y-Yes? ::he stammered.:: Oona: Who are you? Vedek Ishi: Ishi Aba of the Vedek Assembly. May I come in? Never the best actor on Bajor, Rehr could not help but allow his paranoid fear from trickling into his voice. Rehr: H-How c-can we help y-you? Oona: Just tell us what you have come to say. Vedek Ishi: If my intelligence is correct, I am afraid you may need to leave Bajor immediately. But I do hope I am wrong. Rehr moved to one side to allow the Vedek to enter their humble abode. Once she had done so, Rehr stepped outside for a moment and looked around for signs of anyone else. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely having come up over the Holana Ridge and the fields were still empty of labourers. Even his mother, away visiting family in Ashalla, was absent. There was apparently nobody but he, Oona and Vedek Ishi for miles. He stepped back into the house and closed the door. The chill morning air did little to fortify his fraying nerves. Oona: You are wrong. Tell her, Rehr. Rehr: We d-don’t know what you’re talking about. Not only was he a terrible actor, he was an even worse liar. Vedek Ishi: I don’t believe that for a second, Rehr, is it? I think the deaths of an entire warehouse of refugees, accidental or not, would stick in the memory. Rehr swallowed, looking at the Vedek who was staring at him intently. It was as if she could see into his pagh, as though she knew everything there was to know about him. About what he and Oona had been part of three nights before. Then, as if somebody had turned on a light, something fell into place. He looked at Ishi, his voice deathly quiet. Rehr: D-did you say… refugees? It didn't make sense. Refugees… but the woman whose broken and charred body he had seen through the binoculars had been Cardassian. Unmistakably, so. He had seen them on every street corner, on every drinking tavern, at every checkpoint out of Talmulna, on every propaganda video. The look of a Cardassian was imprinted upon his brain just as the dead Cardassian woman and the groping hand of the child in the rubble was now. Rehr: oO Cardassian refugees? Oo ::it seemed like an oxymoron.:: oO How could Cardassians be refugees? On a planet they have invaded? Oo ::he stared again at the Vedek.:: oO Who is this woman? Oo Oona: Why would Cardassians hide on Bajor? During a war that they caused? Vedek Ishi’s lips turned into a thin line; were these master murderers actually what they appeared to be? A couple in way over their heads. Unless they were acting at being terrible at acting, she could read them like a book. Vedek Ishi: They were civilians. Civilian dissidents. They were refugees to our planet, from before the occupation, seeking a freer Cardassia. They sought religious freedom, to practice whatever they wanted. They were peaceful. And… well, you butchered them like they were livestock. Bile burned at the back of Rehr’s throat and he fought to contain the rising tide of nausea that threatened to spill forth like the waters of the Ratosha [...]. They had been party to the massacre of innocent Cardassian lives. ‘The only good Cardassian is a dead Cardassian’ was a theory he had never been able to subscribe to- and it was one of the reasons he and Moparu had clashed on a number of occasions. Yes, the Central Command were oppressive and cruel- if not downright sadistic- and yes, the Obsidian Order were extremists with a warped view of the galaxy, but those that worked for them were a mere fraction of the total number of Cardassians. He had heard whispered through the Resistance of a dissident movement, opposed to the fascistic tendencies of the Union and who fought for a free, democratic Cardassia. Much was also made about the art and literature from a Cardassia before Central Command, before the Obsidian Order. He didn’t like to admit it, but Rehr knew that there were good and just Cardassians- who were very much alive. He had just never met one. Now he had helped kill dozens of them. Rehr: W-we don’t know anything about it. ::he responded, trying to sound defiant. But there was no mistaking the tone in his voice. It was feeble. Defeated.:: Y-you have the wrong people. He knew that Ishi would be able to see straight through him and know that his pagh was in turmoil. And she did. Her brown eyes bore holes through Rehr’s pagh and saw that he was all of a flutter, and in complete tumult. Oona: You have incorrect information. Vedek Ishi: Please, stop lying to me. ::she smiled briefly in an attempt at humour:: It’s bad for your pagh. The shame that now overwhelmed made him unable to look at the Vedek or Oona. Instead he looked down at the cobblestones without really paying attention to them. His eyes registered them but he did not see them. All that he could take in was the dead Cardassian woman and the child groping through the rubble. Rehr: Why have you come to tell us this? Vedek Ishi: Because the Assembly has agreed to get you out. Off Bajor for a time. The Obsidian Order are looking for your cell, and it won’t be long before they find you. The thought turned Rehr’s stomach again and he heaved. Having to leave his mother alone on the farm, turning his back on his life as he knew it, fleeing for their lives from the ever reaching hand of the Order and becoming fugitives of the dreaded ‘state’. In a split second, his life had been turned upside down for the second time in three days. He imagined a life where he and Oona would never know a moment’s peace again. His guilty eyes found Oona’s for a brief moment and the realisation that he had led them both down the path before them was too much. He turned from her and vomited into the sink, hot tears trickling from both eyes. The retching was painful as he convulsed. Without thinking, Rehr wiped his mouth with the sleeve of shirt and then turned to face the Vedek and his beloved wife again. Another wave of nausea threatened, but he willed it back. Oona glared at the intruder, was this another plot from Moparu to torment them? She wouldn’t be surprised to learn that this visit was part of his twisted game. Vedek Ishi: ::clearly deeply uncomfortable:: Believe me, it is not a task I relish, but your lives are in danger. They already have Jahanna. Or at least, that’s what the chatter is saying. Rehr: How long do we have? ::he heard Oona begin to protest but he cut across her.:: There’s no point in arguing, Oona. The Obsidian Order are after us. The longer we remain here, the more risk we are at! You know that! ::beat:: And if by some miracle we escape their clutches- you know Moparu will find us!! He didn’t like overruling his wife. They were a team, they did everything in agreement. It was the secret of their happy union. But this time he had to stand his ground, to make the decision. Their lives were on the line. Jahanna was probably dead already, Altin too. Rehr: How long do we have? ::he repeated, looking to the Vedek with a surprising level of decisiveness that he had not felt moments before.:: The Vedek looked from Rehr to Oona and back to Rehr. She was deeply worried about this Moparu character; initial intelligence had suggested he was behind the whole thing. And she was starting to suspect that although these two had believed that they were killing vicious Cardassian agents, this Moparu had known the truth, and either didn’t care or wanted civilians dead. Vedek Ishi: You have six hours. That’s all; I cannot give you any more time. I will meet you here. Bring only what you can carry. ::she bowed her head:: Good luck. Six hours was not nearly enough time to put the affairs of his life in order. If the Order was closing in on the cell then they’d be monitoring the local communications channels. He wouldn’t be able to call his mother to say goodbye, no time to cancel the labourers due to report for the katterpod harvest, no time to bid farewell to the few friends he and Oona had outside of the cell. They would simply cease to be. Rehr: Very well. ::he drew in a breath and offered a silent prayer to the Prophets for courage.:: Oona, we need t-. He stopped when he realised that his wife was no longer in the kitchen. It took him a second to process the loud bang as their front door slammed open, hitting the wooden slats of the wall outside. Oona had swept from the kitchen and was marching down the steps and towards the fields. He thought to call out to his wife, but he stopped. There had never been any reasoning with her when had grown angry. She was headstrong and vibrant and he loved that about her. He watched her retreating form for a moment and then pulled himself together. Rehr: I suppose I had better pack lightly. ::he said, simply.:: --- Etan Rehr Resistance Cell Member & Etan Oona Resistance Cell Member & Ishi Aba Vedek as simmed by: Lieutenant JG Etan Iljor Science Officer USS Resolution C239203TW0 & Lt Meidra Sirin Counseling Officer USS Resolution R239707MS0 & Lieutenant Commander Genkos Adea MD Second Officer & Chief Medical Officer USS Resolution G239502GS0
    4 points
  22. 4 points
  23. Okay, I had a good laugh at this one. The Lieutenant can't hear the Seiuri's telepathic communication with Raga, so his responses to it are just hilarious! ((Chief of Security’s Office, Security Complex, Deck 11, USS Chin’toka)) {{Day 27 of shoreleave}} Sam made a quick stop by his new quarters to check them out and had arrangements made to have his stuff brought to them. He then proceeded to deck eleven to meet his new Chief, again avoiding stares as he went. He inquired a little about who it was from Commander Kiax and was a little intimidated when he found out his new superior was an Al-Leyan. He managed to somehow get in a bar fight with one on Risa. He couldn’t remember much from that night, just that he woke up in a lot of pain the next day and his mother had to fill him in on what had happened. He was lucky he survived the encounter. Hopefully this wasn't that man. What an awkward encounter that would be. He took a deep breath, stepped to the door, rang the chime, and waited. Raga: Enter. He stepped through the door, passing another officer who was making their way out. He noticed vibrant sapphire eyes staring at him as he made his way into the room. He wasn’t sure if he should offer a friendly smile at the raven haired Al-Leyan, so he just offered him the PADD. Neam: Lieutenant Sameh Neam reporting for duty, Sir. :: coming to an attention stance :: Raga: Cool winds be with you, Lieutenant. And at ease. ::He nodded:: Sam took a relaxed stance as instructed, folding his hands together behind his back. He relaxed inside a little as the emotions coming from the Commander were neutral and relaxed, but he sensed another set of emotions. They weren’t coming from the Commander. It was a sense of calm and curiosity, but who were they coming from? He looked around the office as the Al-Leyan looked over the PADD. It was decorated with Al-Leyan decorations and what appeared to be climbing gear. As he looked farther, his eyes then met a pair of eyes from something that was staring intently at him. It was sitting on top of a metal perch, a bird of some sort, and he suddenly found himself intimidated more by it than the man that stood before him. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t pull himself to do so, until the Commander spoke again. Sylara: ~ Another mind voice animal. Afraid of Sylara. ~ Raga: ~ Afraid huh? ~ Well, it looks like everything’s in order, Lieutenant. He turned his attention back to the Commander and smiled. Neam: Great, Sir. Quite the pet you have. The Seiuri let out a soft hoot. Raga: No, you can’t eat him. Eat him? That was a joke right? Starfleet wouldn’t allow such a thing on board if it went around eating people. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. The owl’s head tilted slightly and she let out a slightly louder hoot. Raga: Because. ::He said dryly:: You ate the last one. The color drained from Sam’s face. The emotions from the Commander were that of relaxed demeanor and those from the bird seemed to fit that she was indeed hungry. Neam: Umm.. Sir? The Seiuri stretched her wings slightly then began bobbing her head up and down a little. Raga: Just don’t make any sudden movements and you’ll be fine. Sylara there used to hunt targs back on the homeworld. Among other things. Sam held as still as possible, even though his body told him to run. He nearly had a heart attack when the door behind him opened. McKnight: Am I interrupting something, boss? Raga: Response Sam still held still as the other officer spoke to the Commander and he remained silent. His heart was racing as he was still unsure if the bird was going to make a meal of him or not. Perhaps he should have stayed on the Churchill, but then again how did he know that coming to the Chin’toka would result in him being eaten by a large bird. McKnight: Sorry for that then, this will be quick. I have something I need your approval of. He politely walked past Neam and handed his friend the PADD. McKnight: Per your approval. Raga: Response Sam wondered how the man just walked in so calmly. Maybe the bird liked him? Maybe he could win the bird over? But how? Raga / McKnight: Reponses Sam let out a sigh of relief and chuckled. Neam: That was a good one, Sir. Your friend would certainly come in handy in scaring an enemy. That’s for sure. Raga / McKnight: Responses Neam: Lieutenant Sameh Neam. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant McKnight. Raga / McKnight: Responses ============ PNPC Lieutenant Sameh Neam Security / Tactical Officer As Simmed By Lieutenant Elizabeth Snow Chief Medical Officer USS Chin'toka NCC-97187 D238803EH0
    4 points
  24. Yes! This was great R'Kala! We finally get a glimpse of this beautiful Klingon's past. I love it!
    4 points
  25. I was rolling! Best gift ever. LOL
    4 points
  26. Good character torture here. Wow. Well done! @John Kendrick
    3 points
  27. Smug, our new Counselor @Arys edit: Changed the word for a synonym since the original was censored 😁
    3 points
  28. I think that's the nicest thing anybody has ever said about T'Lea. Thank you.
    3 points
  29. There was a plan at the start of our "Fissure" Veritas mission to have Kinan Venroe, written by @Blake, Tristam Core, as the love interest for Wil Ukinix. At the end of the mission, they finally got to spend some time together. The sentiment of this sim is beautiful and heart warming. ((Officer's Mess)) Kinan: What are we doing, Wil? Soon, Veritas would go in for a refit. It may be up to Kinan where Lt Commander Ukinix ended up next. That was Kinan's job: personnel officer. When resources were assigned to the Shoals, she forwarded them to where they needed them. She had two ships worth of people she had to arrange, and she wasn't sure whether Veritas' current crew would be part of that list. Ukinix: Um- ::pondering, before gesturing to bottle:: We’re drinking wine? I’m clearly flirting with you- Kinan: Work gets in the way of these things. You are amazing. you are talented, you're sweet, funny and just... you. ::she sighs:: I usually need to be five steps ahead of... everything. I guess I need... a name for what this is. Ukinix: ::more pondering, slight blush:: - it’s an impromptu date. I was looking forward to catching up with you and then, you know, that whole mine collapse thing happened. I mean, I dunno, are you ::squinting eyes slightly:: okay with that? She twirls her glass a little, referring to her symbiont. Kinan:: :with a smile:: Venroe's lived three half-lifetimes, including my own. You'd think with all that language, I'd be able to define things on my own. ::pause:: Venroe hasn't met someone like you before, though. I think that's special. Once again, Wil chuckled quietly. Ukinix: Flattery will get you everywhere. Both of you. ::Slight squint:: Wait, what’d I just say? He leaned forward, pouring more wine into her glass. She responded with a coy smile. Kinan: Nothing I haven't asked myself. Ukinix: I’m not good at expressing myself sometimes, I’ll be honest and say that I get tied up in knots when I get interested in someone, and even more so when they are interested in me. That’s my way of saying I like you. Kinan's eyes sparkle. Kinan: That's a good way. Ukinix: I know nothing is certain in Starfleet. Veritas is going to need a refit, who knows where I’m going to end up, maybe out of The Shoals. You know that better than I do. Wil held out his hand to Kinan... and she takes it. Ukinix: I just witnessed 20-odd miners and two of my fellow crewmates being rescued out of a kilometres deep mine. 5 people down there didn’t make it. ::Chewing bottom lip for a moment:: We shouldn’t let Starfleet get in the way of living our life. ::Slight smile:: Or lives in your case. oO I don't want to say no. Oo Venroe's experience lived in the background. It was a long life, with experiences of love, curiosity, tradegy, and a little more. The point was to continue experiencing, with all the complications life brought. It wasn't that Kinan had been hiding from that -- not really. But she had expected life to repeat itself. Seated across from her was an anomaly of a man, unlike whoever she'd met before. That was special. With her other hand, Kinan brings her glass up and taps it against his. Kinan: To living life, with pleasant company. And to many more dates in future. END. LtCmdr Kinan Venroe Personnel Officer Cait Spacedock C238803SB0
    3 points
  30. Setup. Punchline. Bonus. This comedy trio should reunite more often.
    3 points
  31. 3 points
  32. The winner of the Quote of the Month for August is none other than our extremely talented XO Jo Marshall! The winning quote was: Namura: All work and no play make a Starfleet crew nine percent more likely to turn to cannibalism in the event we end up adrift in space with no means of effective communication. Which of course, even a first year Cadet knows. The moment the comms go down, it becomes a free-for-all aboard every Starfleet ship, and everyone gets automatic pardons. It's like the Prime Rib Directive or something like that.
    3 points
  33. How to write a good and awesome paced action scene by @Alleran Tan. Slow beginning, nice and in the mood of the previous scene, sudden snap to action, breathtaking description and..... Awesome job mate! ((Tunnel Fork, Darime Underground)) Wandering down an unexpected fork in the tunnel, one that wasn't on any maps, team JAMS—Jona And Mallora, Serren—were feeling pretty crammed in by the low ceiling. Or at least, Jona and Serren were. Mallora seemed to be doing much better. And the heat... and the smell... Okay, so everything wasn't so great after all. To make things worse, there was a hot, possibly radioactive, electronic thing on the other side of the wall. Mallora indicated it was a malfunctioning generator and he had no reason to doubt that assessment. But they had come to a fork in the road, one that wasn't on either of their maps. ch'Ranni: Great. Which one do we take? No way to know. Tan: Fifty-fifty shot. But if I had to guess... the new tunnel would probably be more interesting. That generator isn't going anywhere. Mallora stepped over to the place where the cooler passage split off from the main tunnel. There was a pile of loosely scattered rocks on the ground almost marking the divide between dug tunnel and natural cave. Waving her tricorder at the two passages, she examined the flow of data on the screen. Vossti: Sirs? I think there's a scuff mark here. ::she pointed to one of the larger oblong rocks about the size of a Trill honeymelon.:: Like someone stepped on this rock on their way through. Mallora looked at them questioningly. Tan: That would likely be our cadets then. Jona mulled the decision while the doctor leaned against the surface of the wall. The Betazoid doctor seemed a touch startled as she directed her tricorder to the walls of the tunnel. Vossti: What? ::hesitantly:: I'm checking for structural instability in the tunnel, but it looks fine both here and in the cave beyond. ch'Ranni: Good call. I think the last thing any of us wants is to have a few tons of rock and dirt falling on our heads. What does your scan show? Serren definitely didn't want that. But he really had no idea what they were looking at. Vossti: Response Tan: But it's stable for now, right? ch'Ranni: Right. Stable for now. That's the best we can do. Head into the natural tunnel and see where it leads. From the scuffs the doctor saw, we can expect that someone has passed through here before. That's enough to warrant a look. With Serren in the lead and the doctor bringing up the rear, they maneuvered themselves and their equipment into the side tunnel. In doing so they left behind the cramped passage as the natural one opened up above their heads. The sheer relief he felt when he was able to finally stretch out was delightful. But it wasn't just the high ceiling that brightened his day. The ceiling was dotted with bright shining geodes, reflecting and refracting the light all around them. ch'Ranni: The rock and crystal formations are amazing here. It was hard to disagree. Jona pointed to a yellowish patch of geometric crystalline growth on one passing stalagmite with his hand torch. It flashed and glittered in the beam of light with an almost internal glow. ch'Ranni: I saw some of this crystal in the ceiling of the main cavern. Tan: ::Softly,:: This is beautiful. Vossti: Response ch'Ranni: Record and sample everything. There's no telling what data the Pelian researchers may find useful. Vossti: Response Tan: Aye, Commander. Serren absently pulled out his tricorder and began taking a routine scan. Vossti would no doubt be on it too, but it was good to have a second set of data just in case. With Serren and Mallora working, Jona took a wander around the cavern. Serren idly shook his tricorder, urging it to scan faster. The sooner they were done with the scan, the sooner he could check out the beautiful geological formations. His eyes flicked down to his device, watching a tiny bar fill up on a too-small screen. Why didn't they make these things a little bigger, just so looking at them didn't strain the eyes so— ch'Ranni: ::calling out:: Whoa! Watch out! Serren's head snapped around. Time itself seemed to slow down; body instantly flooded with adrenaline, he assessed the situation in a flash. Hidden crevice. Deep. None of them had seen it. Jona, off-balance, arms pinwheeling. A split second away from disaster. Tan: Jona! Serren exploded into motion. His tricorder fell out of his hands, clattering onto the ground, and he slid out of his heavy pack in one smooth motion. Trill legs pumped furiously as he transitioned instantly from "relaxed scanning" to furious sprinting, closing the distance between himself and Jona. ch'Ranni/Vossti: Response Too late. He was going to be too late. He... Did a risky and dangerous thing, totally against his training, that risked sending him off the edge as well. Serren leapt forward like a hunting cat as Jona tumbled backward. His arms outstretched, reaching, reaching... trying to grab any part of Jona he could. A boot. Serren landed bodily on his chest, sliding on the smooth rock, shoulders over the edge. One hand had managed to grab hold of Jona's left boot, holding on with every ounce of his strength as he caught his buddy mid-fall. Tan: ::Grunting,:: I got you! But then the full weight of the guy was transferred to his arm, to his shoulder, and then to his whole body; threatening to pull him over the edge too. Serren's fingers held on to Jona's ankle as tightly as he could, his blue buddy swaying ominously below him. He felt himself sliding forward too; the weight pulling him over... kicking frantically, his boot hooked around a crystal formation, snagging there. Serren held on as tight as he could as Jona dangled over the abyss below. It all happened in just a few seconds. ch'Ranni/Vossti: Response Serren's training kicked in, voice totally bereft of its normal levity. His tone was clipped, calm, and professional despite the strain on his shoulder, ankle, and whole body. They'd need all three of them to get out of this. Serren shifted his posture, grabbing hold of Jona's boot with two hands now. Much better. Tan: Vossti. Rope in my bag. Tie it off on a strong-looking crystal, or use a climbing piton if you can't find one. Just anchor it. Commander, do you think you can put on a climbing harness upside down? Or freeclimb a rope? It was that or something much more primitive, like a lasso around the arm. ch'Ranni/Vossti: Response -- Lieutenant (j.g.) Serren Tan Security/Tactical USS Gorkon O238704AT0
    3 points
  34. We’re here for another interview with a newer member of our community. The title of this column is “Lower Decks,” hearkening back to the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode titled “Lower Decks,” in which junior officers aboard the Enterprise-D speculate on the reasons for recent unusual actions taken by the command crew near the Cardassian border. This month’s interview is with the writer behind Lieutenant JG John Kendrick playing a Human male security officer assigned to the USS Juneau. DeVeau: Tell us a little about the writer behind the character — where in the world do you hail from, what sort of hobbies do you have? Anything about yourself you’d like to share with us! Kendrick: My real-life location is a small city called Hasselt in the northern, Dutch-speaking part of Belgium. I’ve been living here together with my husband for about 10 years now and it’s great here. Next to writing, my other two big hobbies are hiking and travelling through Europe. I’m also somewhat of a history buff and interested in politics. I’m always browsing through wiki pages about all kinds of historical events and persons. It just fascinates me! What is your favourite Trek show and why? I’ll start by telling you a little story. The first time I saw the Enterprise D on TV, I was hooked. I never ever missed an episode. But then – I think it was during season 6 – the broadcaster here in Belgium switched from TNG to DS9. It was the mid-nineties, and we didn’t have the internet at home back then. So I just thought that TNG had ended and was replaced by DS9. It took me an entire season to get over that! I just missed the adventures of Captain Picard and his crew. But then season 2 of DS9 opened with The Circle trilogy and I was blown away. The show from that point on, for me, only got better and better. Still, to this day, I consider DS9 to be the best Trek series ever made. It has the heart of Trek but still found ways to challenge Roddenbery’s vision of utopia in interesting ways. What was your first experience with roleplaying? Actually, this is my first experience with roleplaying. I’ve written a lot of Star Trek fan fiction over the years, but I was missing the experience of writing together with other fans. So now I have both! How did you come across SB118 and what made you want to give us a try? I was looking at Star Trek fan art over at DeviantArt when suddenly I stumbled upon some artwork for Starbase 118. I did some googling, found the website and wiki pages and was just very impressed. Although I had zero experience with RPG, I was curious and decided to, well, enlist in Starfleet. My instructors at the Academy were Lieutenant Commanders Jo Marshall and Samira Neathler. They immediately made me feel welcome here and taught me the ropes of writing for a roleplaying game. What is the most challenging thing about playing a security officer? That’s a tough question. For me personally, the biggest challenge was learning how to write for an RPG. What may be challenging about writing for a security officer is to know how his position relates to that of the tactical officer and the MACOs aboard the ship. They have similar roles, yet each role has its speciality. The wiki page on Duty Post was, and still is, very helpful to make sure I have the right focus. What sort of trouble has your character got into? I think most trouble stems from the fact that he’s still fresh out of the Academy and doesn’t have the experience of a seasoned officer. He is still finding his way. He has to learn to trust his instincts, but not act on them. I think what happened to him during our last mission could be a turning point for him. What are your goals for the future in SB118? I hope to grow as a writer and contribute interesting storylines for our ship and crew. As for my character Kendrick, as I mentioned earlier, he is still very much searching. He’s had this difficult relationship with his father and family, which still troubles him to this day. Also, the transition from the Academy to the Juneau has had its ups and downs. Right now, he’s kind of a loner, trying to find out where he belongs. As for his future career: I think he’s trying to take it one step at a time. After our last mission, he’s come to accept that some people were born to be a Starfleet Officer. Others – like him – have to stumble, fall and get back up many times to get there. As a writer, I’m looking forward to that journey. Thanks for your time, Lieutenant JG Kendrick! You can read more about Lieutenant JG John Kendrick on the wiki. The post Lower Decks: Lieutenant JG John Kendrick appeared first on StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?d=yIl2AUoC8zA http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?i=MbkrO4pGkzg:kGQKeBrVcRo:D7DqB2pKExk http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?d=qj6IDK7rITs http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ufopsb118/~4/MbkrO4pGkzgView the full article
    3 points
  35. This is probably only amusing to those who were a part of a plot on the Thor, but it made me chuckle. Aton's player performed as a drunken retired lawyer during an inquiry of Commodore Aron Kells.
    3 points
  36. Pretty sure that's all good pilots...
    3 points
  37. OOC: I really enjoyed this insight into one of our newer members. Good job @Kammus Corelli! (USS Nashira, Main Engineering, Deck 6) Kammus stood in the chief engineers’ office, as music https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOoe8K1yj50 played, and filled the air with a somber reminder of the mission. 27 PADDs were stacked in different piles on the desk, and Kammus watched the damage control teams, system engineers, and repair personnel work diligently on the problems caused by pushing the Nashira beyond all limits. Finn popped his head in, leaning more than walking, as if to signify he was busy, but wanted a quick word. Finn: What is that noise…? Corelli: Es Ist Vollbracht. It is finished. Bach. Finn: I’m more of an Orion Thrash Punk kind of guy. Corelli: Something I can help you with? Finn: Just to report, console repairs have been completed, Paket is having issues with some of the plasma conduits on deck 2. We’ll get it soon enough. Corelli: Copy, carry on. After a time of thinking, he moved to the turbolift, and traveled down to Deck 8 surveying the repair of the antimatter containment systems. From a nearby window, he saw Starbase 375 grow ever larger, as the ship dropped out of warp, and align for docking. Jadin Wills approached; she had been placed in charge of the final antimatter systems adjustments. Wills: All under control here, sir. Secondary antimatter containment pod will need replaced, scheduled for 4 days maintenance. We’ll be on dock power so it’s a good thing we’ve got shore leave coming up! Right? We do have leave? Corelli: Yes, you have leave. I will remain on board. Wills: You’re not taking leave? Surely you want to get off this oversized shuttle? Corelli: (Raising eyebrows) Let us not speak ill of our assignments. Wills: Sorry sir, I’ll get back to work. Kammus returned to his quarters just as the ship docked with the station. The room lights dimmed as internal power was switched to external support and the docking gangway tunnels extended. He unzipped his uniform top, took a deep breath, and relaxed for a moment. Presently his desk display chimed and he ran over, pushed the button, only to see Aiya’s face, bright and cheerful. Corelli: You're not dirty? Did you skip work? Aiya: Hey, Parrises Squares, 10 minutes, we entered a tournament! Corelli: We you, or we me? Aiya: You can come watch and cheer me on! Corelli: Cheer? Kammus contorted his body, raising one hand above his head, and placing the other on his hips, mocking. Aiya: I hate you. You don’t have any other friends! What are you gonna do? Sulk by the warp core? Corelli: The warp core doesn’t try to take my clothes off just because I’m Deltan every moment of the day. Aiya: Oh… (beat), probably best if you don’t go into a room full of a hundred strangers. Corelli: Might turn into another type of tournament! ::They both laugh:: I will be fine, plenty of work here to do, and someone has to supervise the repairs. Aiya: You’re not the chief engineer. Corelli: They don’t have a chief engineer! Aiya: Fine. BYEeeeee! The channel closed, and Kammus was once again left alone with his thoughts. He mashed the button on the display. //Personal Log, Stardate 239809.2 The Nashira performed well. We pushed these systems well beyond their specified design limit. I will have to re-write some of them. The crew is an interesting group, I will have to be less technical around some of them, which is a shame. We have put in at Starbase 375 for repairs, and since the ship currently has no chief engineer, I have elected to remain on board and supervise, in whatever capacity I can. I am certain Starfleet Command will assign a more senior engineer to oversee the repair work. I dread venturing onto the station, all those people, they can’t help but be affected by my biology, which I cannot turn off. Perhaps it would be better to be an android… I hope the crew enjoy their leave. I for one await reassignment, as this ship, while I enjoy it very much, will likely not be a permanent home. I wonder if an ensign can request to have NCO’s assigned… I sure would like to have Aiya with me, whatever the next adventure is. //end log He returned to the window and awaited the arrival of refit teams from the station. _____________________________________________ Ensign Kammus Corelli Engineering Officer USS Nashira Writer ID: T239807KC3
    3 points
  38. @Alleran Tan here gives us a perfect display of humour, a very alien perspective of the scene and just the right spark of mystery and intrigue to keep us totally caught up in the misadventures of this unfortunate group of cadets. Good job! ((???, Darime IV)) Jack could smell grass and tree sap. They say that Kelpians can sense the approach of death before it happens. A combination of their various senses; acute vision, perceptive hearing, sharp noses, specialized threat ganglia, and instincts burned into them from generations of hunting by apex predators. Even in a semi-conscious, teetering between waking up fully and passing out again, Jack was definitely sensing it. How did they get here? And why were there plants? Isaacs: Ugh... ::He pressed his hand to the back of his neck, massaging the muscles in an attempt to relieve his headache.:: Is everyone okay? Or at least... you know, alive? Instinct kicked in. The prey-instinct to lay still when wounded, pretending to be dead, hoping that the predator's prey-drive would diminish. Lay in the grass, pretending to be tasteless. Gilbert: I’m fine, I feel like I just finished a week long pub crawl, but that’s not a first. Voices. Voices of his fellow cadets. They were all going to die. Ico: ::almost whispering:: I...I’m mostly fine :: The petite Bajoran turned to her left, towards the lanky form of her other colleague.:: Jack, are you…. are you OK? He was being directly addressed. That was enough to suppress the "play dead" urge for now. Eyes still closed, and groaning softly, Jack pulled himself up into a sitting position, his threat ganglia extended. It was hard for him to swallow the instinctive fear that coursed through his veins like lava through a subterranean tube; vahar'ai had not yet come for him, and the fear that it dispelled had not yet diminished. Eyes closed. That would help with the fear. Ressan: I... I believe I am uninjured. ::Bajorans used their last name first. He remembered that at least.:: Thank you, Ico. Uninjured. Just terrified. They were all going to die. With a shaking hand, Ressan did his best to smooth down the threat ganglia, but it didn't work. Finally, he opened his eyes. A kaleidoscope of colour greeted him, full of ultraviolet shimmers and unexpected thermal patterns. His vision rapidly acclimatised to the strange environment. His nose hadn't lied; there were trees here, plants of all descriptions, their thermal patterns and strange colours taking his dazed eyes a second to become accustomed to. Beyond them the walls here were metal, reflecting the light in a way that made him squint, pupils contracting. The warm glow of the three other cadets' body heat were a comforting sight, proving that they were, indeed, alive. For now. The other cadets seemed more blind than he was. Ico found her backpack and began rummaging around in it, while Issacs was fumbling with a box containing a tricorder, seeming to have trouble seeing it. When it opened, the sound echoed around the room, mirroring the various emissions his eyes were struggling to process. Overall, a confusing and disorienting sensation that only served to reinforce the notion that, in fact, they were all going to die. More worrying, Ico seemed to be checking the contents of her bag carefully, as though several items were missing. There was something about those walls that made it hard to see. Like watching a movie through a refractive lens. Their reflectiveness played havoc with his finely tuned senses; everything seemed too bright, as though someone had gone through and splashed everything with gaudy UV paint. Isaacs: Anyone know what happened? One minute we were... ::he paused, and screwed up his eyes in thought.:: Uh... I’m actually not sure. The last thing I can remember is breakfast. Gilbert: And breakfast didn’t contain alcohol, so why the hangover? Ena took a sip of water before she spoke. Ico: ::Handing the canteen to Gilbert:: I remember that we were about to go to a briefing with the instructor, and we were running late, so I packed my breakfast for later, then .... ::: she pulled a hand to her temple once more, migraine gripping her again as she struggled to recollect their past:: ...Then it's all a blur. Ressen: I was having breakfast too. Maybe our meals were poisoned... ::Although that didn't explain what happened to Ico. He managed a shakey smile.:: Breakfast! The most important meal of the day! Except for the antidote. Ico: ::Guys? Jack sensed it before it happened, his ganglia twitching. A low rumble, like from a stardrive. But there were trees here, this couldn't be a ship, unless— Light. Light so bright it momentarily overwhelmed his senses; his eyes quickly adjusted, watching buildings simply appear from the soil, thrusting upward as though pushed up through the grass by some giant. Ribbons of gold and ultraviolet hung down from the ceiling, thin ribbons of silver and ultraviolet between them like bridges. Cowering momentarily, unable to suppress his instincts once more, Jack took a second to breathe. It was okay. They were in a strange seven sided clearing... boulders sparkled with every shade he could see, a bountiful and dizzying array of light. Beautiful. A combadge chirped mournfully, regretfully. Then another. Ressen tried his as well, just like the others. Following protocol. Nothing. The only one who didn't try was Ico... which honestly made sense to him. Isaacs: So... We should probably try to get out of here, or at least get comms working. Any ideas? Gilbert: No…::Head craned back to look up at the towers::...where are we? What is this? What did you do? Ico opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. So today was Tuesday then... Ico had a great idea, but didn't share it, because everyone was talking too loud. They were all going to die. Ressan: I don't think any of us did anything. Solomon rounded on the other cadets, one hand on his hip, the other thrusting an accusing finger at them. Gilbert: Everything was fine until you started poking about at your tricorder, now not only do we have to get out, but we have these alien towers to worry about. Ressan: I don't think a tricorder could summon giant buildings. Isaacs: Response Ico raised up a hand awkwardly. Ico: ::shyly:: hummm Ressan, with his acute hearing, always found Ico's voice to be the most pleasant and well-modulated out of the four of them. But, once again, she was silenced by the two Humans. Gilbert: Do any of you recognise them? No, you don’t, so don’t pretend you do. For all we know you activated some sort of defence system which is going to vaporize us if we try to leave this clearing. Vaporized instantly. Turned to ash. Evaporated. Nobody would ever know what happened to them. They were all going to die. ... but there was no way he was going to let everyone think that. Ressan: ::Sarcastically,:: For all we know it might well have activated the galaxy's largest puppet-conversion ray. If we don't know, we don't know. Issacs: Response Finally, Ico mustered enough courage to raise her voice. Ico: GUYS! That doesn’t matter if we don’t get out of here. We are all friends and classmates after all... r-right? The Bajoran's voice lost strength and volume as she spoke. A flush rose to her cheeks, her whole face heating up warm as the dawning sun. Ressan: Yeah. You're right, Ena. We're Starfleet, we can handle this. ::Grinning,:: Or all get turned into puppets. Isaacs/Gilbert: Response They were all going to die. Ico: I don't know, but we have to remember our training: determine dangers, get as much information as possible, try to get out of here or look for help. Jack nodded emphatically, his threat ganglia twitching despite his efforts to quieten them. Ressan: That's right. Isaacs was right before, as well; we should try and get a signal going. Even if these walls are messing with our combadge signals, there might be a way once we sit and think for a bit. Isaacs/Gilbert: Response Ico grasped her bag tighter looked down at his boots—Kelpian style, designed to accommodate his tip-toes. Ressan was momentarily amused—just for a brief moment—that he didn't seem to be the most scared in his team. Ico: Maybe, maybe they are already looking for us actually, we just need to stay safe and don't do anything crazy. They had no idea how long they'd been gone, but four Cadets just up and vanishing wasn't something Starfleet would ignore. Ressan: It's a good survival rule. "Stay put". We don't know how we got here, we don't know where we are. We could be just down the road from our quarters, or we could be on the other side of the galaxy. ::Burying his fear under false bravado, Jack tried to reason with the two Humans.:: Could be a The Traveller situation, could be a Q, we could have gone full Voy' and be in the Delta quadrant—could be there's something in the air and we are all tripping the most balls ever as your people say with disturbing regularity. Until we know more, we should examine our immediate surroundings first. Isaacs/Ico/Gilbert: Response Pity none of them were medical staff. It could help eliminate the last suggestion. Ressan: I'm just saying. Let's look around before we run off. ::To Gilbert,:: You too. If a Q did this, I promise you can try and seduce them. ::He fought down a wave of nervous laughter.:: Not that you ever needed my permission to try the Solomon Manoeuvre in literally every single possible situation ever. They were all going to die. Isaacs/Ico/Gilbert: Response Humans were almost blind compared to him, but at the same time, increased visual acuity sometimes caused problems; at the present, he could see too much. Jack craned his neck, squinting and focusing his vision on those metallic walls. Within them he could see myriad reflections as the feeble light in the room bounced around and around, seeing himself and the other cadets' body heat, the shape of them from the side and behind and above, the light and thermal patterns disturbed and distorted like a funhouse mirror, reflections folding in on reflections until they were just a blurry mess. And the trees... so strange. He'd never seen any like them. Not in any textbook. Certainly not on his world. They were all going to die. Ressan: The walls are reflective in a wide range of bands; a good chunk of the visual spectrum, especially in the ultraviolet—and thermals, too, so... presumably that's what's scrambling our comm frequencies.. We might be able to talk to each other with a bit of rejigging, but we're not getting a signal out here if that material treats comm signals like it does everything else. But that'll take time. Isaacs/Ico/Gilbert: Response -- J'ryn "Jack" Ressan 4th Year Cadet simmed by Lt (j.g) Serren Tan Security/Tactical USS Gorkon O238704AT0
    3 points
  39. @Jo Marshall always finding the bone of the matter
    3 points
  40. Bajor be kind to us, for Big Mac will not.
    3 points
  41. *furiously blushes* Thank you so much for the kind words! I think I can speak for both Marie and I when we say we are so proud of the story that we are telling and are so glad that it's being so warmly recieved!
    3 points
  42. And now, for an entirely different kind of Sandwich... (( Hamsan & Sirin’s Quarters, Deck 4, USS Resolution )) Dwich hated the chair he was sitting in. It was awkward and made him feel like he was leaning halfway back to the floor, with nowhere to put his legs or rest his arms. After Dr. Genkos Adea’s experimental treatment failed to produce any results, he had taken some additional scans and sent Dwich home. Home. These quarters, which he’d never seen before today, were his. And Meidra’s. He felt like an interloper, having been given access to a stranger’s residence. The idea that he’d be sent back to the quarters he shared with a woman he’d never met before today struck him as a tad inappropriate, for both of them. He wondered whether the familiar setting was by design, to shock his system with the comforts of home and “fix” him. He didn’t like it. Everyone he had encountered on this ship so far made it seem like it was just a failure of memory, an amnesia from which he would one day awaken. That wasn’t it. He wasn’t the person they were looking for. He wasn’t their Hamsan Dwich. But, he did have their Hamsan Dwich’s DNA and voiceprint, which gave him access to the library computer and allowed him to read up on himself. It was fascinating reading, and after scanning his biography in detail, Dwich was able to pinpoint the exact moment when they went from being the same person, to diverging. In the summer of 2388, Dwich was just 19 years old, spending his fifth summer in a row living and working with the ranjens at Kaiett Monastery. At the end of his stay, he was told that his pagh was meant to walk this path, and he was welcomed into the brotherhood of the faithful. He had remained on the property ever since, a decade of study and meditation and prayer, of devoting his life to the service of the Prophets. The other Dwich had not been so lucky. Evidently, even though they were the same person, the other Dwich’s pagh was not meant for a life of religious contemplation, and he was sent away from the Monastery, never to return. After a period of drifting, working various odd jobs in tourist traps all across the Quadrant, he had somehow ended up on Earth’s moon, working at a hospital before beginning a career in Starfleet. After arriving on Resolution, he met Meidra Sirin and the two began a relationship. They dated, they fell in love, they moved in together. She even broke his arm once. Dwich was processing all of this when the doors opened and Meidra entered their shared living space. He had helped many people deal with their grief, and he could tell that Meidra was still in the “not handling it well” phase. She put on a smile and greeted him, her pleasant tone of voice an ill-fitting mask. Sirin: How are you feeling? Hamsan: As well as can be expected. ::beat:: I know this must be difficult for you. Dr. Adea sent me here, but I can easily go somewhere else if–– Sirin: No, these are still your quarters unless you intend to see Lieutenant Yalu to be reassigned. There is another bedroom on the other side of our bathroom. I can move into that one and you’ll have your privacy. Dwich resisted the urge to shake his head. These are still your quarters. Everyone was still expecting him to awaken from this ordeal, as if it were a dream. It was more like a nightmare. Dwich had spent his entire adult life studying the words of the Prophets, but there was nothing he could think of that would soothe the pain she was feeling. The silence needed to be filled with something, and Dwich could only form an apology. Hamsan: Meidra, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t know you. And I’m sorry that Dwich, your Dwich, isn’t here. Dwich’s apology was sincere, but it also served a secondary, more calculated purpose: he felt a responsibility to himself not to be bound by the expectation to be everyone else’s Hamsan Dwich. Yes, they had been the same person up to a point, but after a decade of diverging paths and paghs, they were completely different individuals. Even if he tried, every day for the rest of his life, he could never be Meidra’s Hamsan Dwich. Sirin: I’ll be around if you would like to talk, but forgive me. I need to meditate before this headache makes me ill. Meidra moved quickly away, saying nothing more, and Dwich knelt on the floor to pray for guidance as the soft sounds of a stranger crying in the next room carried over the stale, recycled air. End scene for Hamsan PNPC Vedek Hamsan Dwich Vedek, Kaiett Monastery Dakhur Province, Bajor simmed by Lieutenant Yogan Yalu Helm Officer USS Resolution NCC-78145
    3 points
  43. Join us for another in a series of interviews with winners of Staff awards from our recent 2021 Awards Ceremony. Our goal is to give you insight into how our fleet’s best simmers write, and imagine their characters. This month we’re interviewing the writer behind Captain Mei’konda playing a Male Caitian Commanding Officer assigned to the USS Chin’toka. He won the Christopher Pike Pendant which is awarded to commanding officers who command their ship with honor and dedication, and help to provide a creative atmosphere which fosters outstanding simming. DeVeau: Tell us a little about the writer behind the character — where in the world do you hail from, what are some things you do for fun, and anything else you’d like to share? Mei’konda: Hello again, Alora, it’s been quite a while! My name is Aaron, and I live in the United States. I’m originally from Maine, but I’ve also lived in New Hampshire and California, and I now reside near Denver, Colorado, where several years ago I was able to purchase my first house with my Husband and our two adorable dogs. I’m a Massage Therapist by trade, and have been for the last eighteen years. I enjoy tabletop gaming as well as writing, motorcycling, and working on my project car, a 1988 Mazda RX-7 Turbo. How did you find Starbase 118 and what made you want to write here? As a lifelong lover of Star Trek, the ability to join with other enthusiasts and write our own stories together appealed to me in a big way. I joined SB118 for the first time in the late nineties as a character named Jason Brandt aboard the USS Starwind, and eventually rose to the rank of Lieutenant Commander before retiring. I joined the fleet again in 2013 as Ensign Mei’konda, a helmsman aboard the USS Mercury under now-Commodore Aron Kells. What made you decide to work toward being a Commanding Officer? I believe that the idea of command appeals to many players as they first join and begin to work their way up the ranks. As I rose toward command ranks, I began to have a better understanding of the rewarding, and sometimes intensive OOC duties in managing a ship in SB118, and was convinced I could do so. Commanding a ship is delightful in many ways, including being able to lead your dream ship and run the sorts of missions you enjoy the most. I initially took command of the USS Montreal and then transitioned to the USS Astraeus. After some time, due to eventual burnout, I elected to retire from command and go on a long term leave of absence. But in that absence, I learned to better manage my time, and certain scheduling conflicts in my life calmed down to the point that I was able to accept when the Executive Council asked me to take command of a ship once again. You inherited the Chin’toka under some unusual circumstances that brought about some unique challenges. What were those challenges and how did you work past them? The USS Atlantis’ crew was about to transition into life aboard the USS Chin’toka when its Captain abruptly left. As I’d recently been on leave, I relied greatly on my dedicated First Officer, Commander Serala, to bring me back up to speed both on ship leadership and on a crew that had only a few officers that I’d served with before. The greatest challenges have probably been in learning what my crew wants and needs, and doing my best to give it to them, while overcoming my own weaknesses as a commanding officer. I feel that we’ve now got a good amount of trust amongst each other. What is your favourite part of being Captain? As mentioned above, I love having the opportunity to pick my dream ship, and to tell the sorts of stories that I crave. I miss the hopeful and optimistic future portrayed in 90s Star Trek that has sometimes been missing from what we have on television now, and this is my opportunity to try to keep the hope that inspired me as a child alive. What would you tell others who look toward the Captain’s chair as a future for their character? Captaincy in SB118 is a time and energy intensive activity, but one that’s extremely rewarding when you start getting comfortable with it. Being very aware of your own weaknesses as a simmer and a fleet administrator are critical so that you can be aware of them when they creep up on you and do your best to correct your path. Captaincy is not just about yourself, and it’s not just about your crew. It’s a fine balancing act between seeing to the in-character and out-of-character needs of your crew, and in getting the chance to write your character at the culmination of a big part of their journey as a Starfleet Officer. Thanks for your time, Captain Mei’konda! You can read more about Captain Mei’konda on the wiki. The post Staff Award winner – Mei’konda,USS Chin’toka (Christopher Pike Pendant) appeared first on StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?d=yIl2AUoC8zA http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?i=uOEU_XIdk5E:-mV7Oe4dkHY:D7DqB2pKExk http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?d=qj6IDK7rITs http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ufopsb118/~4/uOEU_XIdk5EView the full article
    3 points
  44. Commodore is an exclusive rank and title that captains and fleet captains can earn in our game once they have served as commanding officer of a vessel for five years (whether continuously during one tenure or cumulatively over multiple commands). Having completed their own “five-year mission” aboard their ships, these COs are recognized by our community as among our finest leaders in the fleet. The Executive Council is pleased to announce the promotion of Fleet Captain Kali Nicholotti to the rank and title of Commodore! Commodore Kali Nicholotti first took command of StarBase 118 Ops on February 4, 2012, and the Ops crew then moved to USS Excalibur-A on August 4, 2013, where Nicholotti remained in command until May 6, 2015 (for a time, writing as Cascadia Rainier). She next took command of USS Apollo-A on July 13, 2015, serving as CO until February 16, 2016. She began her third and current command tenure on July 16, 2020, with the relaunch of USS Resolution. Commodore Nicholotti has been decorated with the following staff awards: Kathryn Janeway Award, 2016 Sarek Star, 2015 Shuvalis Diamond of Recognition, 2012 In addition to her duties as a commanding officer, Marissa, the player behind Nicholotti, has contributed much to StarBase 118’s wider community, serving as the facilitator of the Image Collective for many years, where she introduced ship logos and flags as part of our ship iconography. Through the Publicity Team, she worked tirelessly to ensure our website remained at the top of search engine rankings. She now facilitates the Social Media Team and has previously facilitated the News Team and served as the Captains Council Magistrate and the organization’s first Fleet Taskforce Coordinator. You can learn more about Marissa in the following interview: In the Spotlight: Kali Nicholotti (2015) And check out her wiki profile where you can learn more about her character and service history. Please join us in congratulating Commodore Kali Nicholotti on the forums! The post Kali Nicholotti promoted to Commodore appeared first on StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?d=yIl2AUoC8zA http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?i=r_cHsuGro3k:-R9BnW7EW54:D7DqB2pKExk http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ufopsb118?d=qj6IDK7rITs http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ufopsb118/~4/r_cHsuGro3kView the full article
    2 points
  45. So, my favorite bit outta this whole sim is the line about the Bolian. Well written, Jim. Very well done indeed. (( Bridge, Deck 1, USS Yanktonai, NCC-67205 )) Madison sat in her chair in the center of the bridge, and gripped the arms of her chair to force herself to not get up and pace. It was a nervous habit of hers and her crew was used to it, but this was the first time she and the Caitian Captain had interacted and she wanted to make a good impression. His service record was something to be envied, though her own was nothing to sneeze at. She had received numerous awards and accolades throughout her career, mostly for her work in the field of science. She was a Xenologist by trade, and thanks to her scientific contributions, she had played significant roles in helping discover the reasons behind an outbreak on three different worlds, had led several expeditions to study different new worlds and their inhabitants. Her track to command had been a bit slower than the distinguished officer facing from the viewscreen, but she had managed it. Mei’konda: =/\= ...The Yanktonai will be briinging up the rear, the Chin’toka will be in the heart of the fleet, and the Diligent will taake point along our journey. Diligent is the faastest ship in the fleet, with sensors as good as ours, so she will be able to respond quiickly to anything out of the ordinary. =/\= Delano: =/\= We’ll be ready over here, Captain. =/\= St. Claire: =/\= Understood. =/\= Transport Captains: =/\= Response =/\= oO Rear guard, not the most glamorous position, but someone has to do it, I suppose. And his logic is sound. Oo Several of the transport Captains piped in with questions that were easily and quickly answered, and Miranda had to once more remind herself that these were civilian ship captains, not Starfleet, and they were not very familiar with typical Starfleet protocol in these situations. Mei’konda: =/\= Any other questions? Claarifications we should make about the journey before we get under way? Speak your mind, anyone. =/\= Chin’toka Bridge: =/\= Responses =/\= Transport Captain NPCs: =/\= Responses =/\= St. Claire: =/\= What does our route look like, Captain Mei’konda? =/\= Mei’konda: Current telemetry from Deep Space 26 indicaates that our route is clear. As you all know, we deployed several comm and sensor relaays along our route to the rendezvous from our initiaal survey of the Shemsh system, in order to maake sure that any hazards were catalogued. At the moment, there is no indiication of any problems. She started to reply to the other Captain when a couple of his officers interjected their own questions and comments, so she patiently waited her turn. Peters: =/\= Understandable. Thank you, captain. =/\= McKnight: =/\= Tactical, ready, cap'n. =/\= Peters: =/\= And we will be travelling at warp 6, correct? =/\= Marseille: =/\= Yeah, that’s right. It’s our maximum cruising speed. No fancy Starfleet engines over here. =/\= Delano: =/\= :: In a playful tone :: Don’t worry Marseille, we can always give you a tow if it comes down to it. =/\= It had been a source of frustration for Madison. While nowhere near as fast as the refitted Akira-class starship, her Dakota-class starship could still reach speeds of up to warp 9.85 and sustain it for twelve hours, and Madison was secretly a speed freak. It wasn’t unusual for her to push the ship to warp 9 and hold it there for as long as she could before her Chief Engineer began to turn blue in his face - ok, that was unfair since he was a Bolian - but the expression still counted. Kiax: =/\= We’re capped to Warp Two as we go through the Jenatris Corridor anyway, Captain. After that I wouldn’t want to be going much faster than Six – even with our navigation aids pointing the way. =/\= She had heard of the treacherous navigation within the Expanse and she had studied it on her trip here. The expanse was filled with high volumes of space debris and dangerous gases and posed a hazard to space flight. It even had designated space lanes which were considered safe for travel, apparently at slower speeds if the pink-haired Trill was to be believed, and Madison saw no reason to doubt her. They worked there, after all. Serala: =/\= I would also recommend modifying your shields to the specification we have sent you. The Atlantis has some issues a couple years ago with the gases of the Cloud seeping through and causing some rather unusual effects amongst the crew. =/\= Chin’toka Bridge: Responses St. Claire: =/\= Noted about the shields. And I think we can manage warp six. It might be a strain on the engines, but I like to keep my Chief Engineer on his toes. =/\= She said it in such a deadpan tone and with such a straight face, she wondered how seriously anyone had taken her. Certainly the Starfleet officers, at the very least, should know she wasn’t serious. St. Claire: =/\= And what about a risk assessment? Are you expecting any kind of resistance, Captain Delano? :: she belatedly realized there were two Captain Delano’s, though the CO of the Diligent was actually a Commander. Still, his position afforded him the title. :: Captain, Mei’konda Delano. Forgive me, I forget there are two of you here. =/\= Delano / Transport Captain NPCs: =/\= Responses =/\= There was a brief pause as another officer entered the viewscreen image and spoke to the Caitian and then she noticed that they were receiving telemetry data detailing some areas of concern. She studied the data for several minutes as the others conversed, taking note of those places that had been marked. Finally, the newest arrival to the conversation spoke. Rosek: =/\= Lieutenant Commander Lael Rosek, the Chin’toka’s Mission Specialist at your service. =/\= St. Claire: =/\= Well met, Commander. =/\= Transport Captain NPCs: =/\= Responses =/\= Rosek: =/\= A pleasure to meet each of you. :: turns to Evan :: And a pleasure to see you again, Commander. Back in the big chair I see. =/\= Delano: =/\= Sharp eyes, as always, Commander Rosek. It’s a little ship. We had to compensate somewhere. =/\= Chin’toka Bridge: =/\= Response =/\= Transport Captain NPCs: =/\= Responses =/\= There was some more conversation and when it was all finished, Captain Mei’konda returned to the screen to give final instruction. Mei’konda: =/\= Very well then. If that’s all, then let’s get under way. Commander Delano, you’re leadiing the pack. Good luck to all of you. =/\= St. Claire: =/\= Thank you, Captain. I am looking forward to it. Yanktonai out. =/\= St. Claire: Helm, slow speed, fall to the aft position of the convoy and then increase speed to match the slowest ship. Keep us astern of the convoy by one thousand five hundred kilometers. If anything does happen, I want a little breathing room between us and the convoy. Helm: Aye, Captain. Reducing to one-half impulse and coming astern of the convoy. St. Claire: Tactical and Ops, keep your eyes peeled. Let’s make sure nothing slips up on us. A round of ‘ayes’ followed as she gave more instructions and her various officers carried out her orders. -- Captain Madison St. Claire Commanding Officer USS Yanktonai, NCC-67205 as simmed by Commander Serala First Officer Training Team Member Image Collective Member Chat Team Moderator/Facilitator Academy Statistician USS Chin'toka NCC-97187 A239412S10
    2 points
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