Kali Nicholotti

Out of context...

Hahahahahaha...

And then...

Favorite signature ever. For anyone who wasn't there, there will be questions...

(( [...]pit, USS Palisade )) Excalibur. Ambro dropped out of warp, keyed in a few commands on the engineering console, then activated the comm system and opened a channel. Regillensis: =/\= Palisade to Excalibur. Come no closer. My ship is now venting warp plasma both inside the cabin and out into space. If you open fire on me, you’ll set off an explosion that will destroy my ship. Ambro sneered as the image of Betazoid medical officer and illegitimate-son killer Genkos Adea appeared on the sideboard display. The man’s response was unexpectedly taciturn. Adea: =/\= Understood. =/\= Uncertain why Adea was so calm in the face of such news, Ambro raised the stakes. Regillensis: =/\= And I wouldn’t attempt using the transporter, either. The beam would also destabilize the plasma with a similar effect. =/\= Adea: =/\= Well then, we seem to be at an impasse Admiral. =/\= Did they know something he didn’t? Why weren’t they reacting more? Ambro’s fingers tapped at his console to key in a command sequence while his eyes remained trained on the screen. Regillensis: =/\= You and your Trill sidekick were amusing enough, Commander, but I’ve grown tired of dealing with you. Go collect your girlfriend and get on with your life. =/\= Adea: =/\= I’m afraid you’re not going to just walk away from this, Admiral. =/\= Before Ambro could cut the transmission himself, Adea did so, and the screen returned to a sensor analysis of whatever god-forsaken corner of the Borderlands they happened to be situated in. Ambro didn’t like how subdued Adea was; it made him feel uneasy. The warp plasma had saturated the air in the cabin and the surrounding space outside, turning his position into a volatile bomb just waiting for a lit fuse. He clamped down the vents and prepared to jump back to warp, but his ship refused to comply. Regillensis: Computer, why is the warp drive offline? Computer: Elevated antileptons in the vicinity are preventing the establishment of a stable warp field. Ambro wished he had a PADD handy so he could chuck it at the wall. Instead, he settled for a sharp contact between the heel of his hand and the edge of his control panel. The clock was ticking, and he was running out of options. A moment later, the ship shuddered as a tractor beam locked on. Regillensis: Quid nunc faciam? The warp core was useless to him as propulsion, but it might yet save him another way. His hands and his voice worked in tandem, the result of years of practice in the art of saying and doing two different things at once. Regillensis: Computer, if anyone attempts to beam me off of this ship, execute the following commands in sequential order. Computer: Acknowledged. As he got up from his seat, he briefly mused at the computer’s efficient and unquestioning compliance. This might have been the last time he gave an order that was actually followed. Assuming there wasn’t much time left to act, Ambro collected a handful of personal effects from one of the aft compartments. Then he made a mad dash for his private quarters to collect one last thing. (( Flashback – Presidio, San Francisco, Earth – 2376 )) Regillensis: Smile! B. Wyke: Oh, Ambro, why don’t you get in the picture with us this time? Ambro lowered the holo-imager’s viewfinder from eye level. She always asked, and he always evaded. Regillensis: You don’t want my face messing up an otherwise perfect portrait, now do you, Babs? B. Wyke: Ambrosius, please. We don’t have any pictures of the three of us. L. Wyke: Please, pater? Ambro’s 10-year-old son looked at him with hopeful eyes. Whenever he looked at his most special son, he felt as though he could see into a thousand potential futures, each one brighter than the last. Whatever Liam went on to become, Ambro knew he would be the best at it. His eyes drifted from his son back to Barbara. B. Wyke: Just this once? The combined persuasive force of Liam and his mother was too much for Ambro to resist, and he flagged down a passer-by to take a picture of their little unauthorized family unit. Before handing over the holo-imager to the volunteer, a cheerful Human female called Helga, Ambro engaged the encryption protocol. If an image of him with Barbara and Liam was going to exist, at least he could prevent the creation of additional copies without his access code. Helga: Say cheese! SNAP. (( End Flashback )) Twenty-two years later, there still existed only one image of Ambro and Liam together: the one of their perfect day together on the Presidio. Ambro opened the drawer of his bedside table and fished around inside to retrieve the data chip containing the holophoto, and his heart skipped a beat when his hand failed to grasp it. The space around him became illuminated in transporter-beam-blue, and he vanished, leaving the photo behind. Computer: Initiating program Regillensis-Alpha-One. Immediately, every console in the captain’s yacht crackled with the combined action of a computer core wipe and an EPS overload. Moving from aft to bow, the computer virus disabled every section of the ship in turn, save the warp core, which was itself ten seconds from a breach. (( Brig, Deck 3, USS Excalibur-A — moments later )) Materializing inside a holding cell, Ambro arrived a few moments before his things, which beamed into the controlled access area across the room and outside of his reach. oO Ambrosius, please. We don’t have any pictures of the three of us. Oo He sat down on the bench-by-day-bunk-by-night and let out an exhausted sigh. Surely someone, he presumed Adea and Yalu, would be along shortly to welcome him aboard. He wished he’d taken more pictures. Tag / TBC MSPNPC Rear Admiral Ambrosius Corvus Regillensis Starfleet Intelligence Czar Borderlands Sector Justin D238804DS0

((Lakonna City, Welne residence)) Sitting at his desk, in the library, Welne looked outside to the rain drops falling in the window. He usually didn’t have any trouble writing. He loved pouring his imagination into words on the white sheet of paper. Today he couldn't. He was fighting to put his notes into a proper text, every time he tried Welne ended up caught in thousands thoughts, all connected, all related. How much have things changed. How fast. Welne scrolled through his notes about the recent attack on the dressing factory. He always tried to convey the news evenly, honestly, without taking sides. This time he found it difficult. The shop was burned down. The owner was in tears as the building became a pile of black ash. Almost by divine intervention, and the hard work of the Constabulary and neighbours, the fire didn't spread. From what Welne found out the fire was started by one of the protesters. The other side of this malevolos event. The reason for that? Machinery. A machine the size of his dinner table. Actually several. Mister Faiate, the owner of the place, invested in the recently invented sewing machine. It still required eight to ten workers to operate each machine, but with the cheap work force that was sweeping Lakonna, he managed to replace most of his former workers, cut on wages, and increased his work rate. Now, in one week work, they could produce suits, pants, shirts, coats, that would take them months to finish. Until today. Former workers went to protest outside the factory, tempers ran high and when the Constabulary force tried to disperse them it only made things worse. There was no official report, but Welne knew at least seven protesters were killed. Seven lives were wasted, as was Mr. Faiate’s. Although he was the owner, one of the Privileged, he had invested everything there, and now he lost it all. And wasn’t it ironic, how when he fired most of his Labourers he had made them lose their substance. Another battle between classes. That was what was troubling him, how could he be impartial and just report this. His thoughts were pushed away from the knock on the door. Without asking permission Woira entered the library. Woira: Abuz it’s dinner time. Welne smiled at her, as she made her way to him. She was growing into a beautiful Demesian, looking like his late wife Moira. But her eyes were his, as was the sharp mind she had been blessed with. She stopped near him and looked at the empty page, resting a hand on his shoulder as she gave him a gentle squeeze. Woira: I remember you and Akrayzy calling me for dinner. Now is it the other way around? Welne smiled affectionately at her. The shortened names they all shared around the house made him forget the troubles outside. Yet it was also a reminder of how time was passing. Welne: How things change my oldest Bitty. Woira jumped on his desk, something she always loved to do when she was younger. But now they weren't at the same eye level, being almost as tall as him, Welne needed to lock up from his seat. Woira: Perhaps. If they didn’t I would still be small. You want to know what I think Abuz? Welne nodded, curious as to what she was about to say. Welne: Of course, I always encouraged all of you to speak freely. Tilting her head Woira held his hand, now almost the same size, although her’s was much prettier. And it didn’t have any calluses from writing. Woira: I think some things have to change, so they can grow. But although different, the important things remain the same. With a wide smile she pulled herself out of the desk with a jump. For a second, for Welne, she was not fifteen anymore, she was back being his seven year old Bitty. Straightening herself she raised her hand. Woira: Does it make sense? Welne nodded, took her hand and stood. Welne: Very much. I think I understand what you mean. Now let us have dinner. Maybe that was it. Still, caught in a family moment Welne tried to push aside the thought that clouded him. oO Change brings growth. But at what cost? Oo TBC MSNPC Welne Journalist Lakonna Gazette as simmed by Lt. J. G. Vitor S.Silveira Tactical Officer USS Excalibur-A, NCC-41903-A O238907VS0

For the record, we didn't have a ceremony this leave and I thought everyone deserved ribbons. And hey, it's the Starfleet equivalent of a yearly performance eval... Hush and enjoy your one on one time with the Captain. 😛

(( Room 02-1601, USS Excalibur-A )) Addison sat cross-legged on the floor of her quarters, a series of PADDs surrounding her in various piles on the floor. She was bothered – an unusual emotion for the surgeon… Annoyed, sure. Concerned, frequently. But very rarely bothered. And yet, here she was. The conversation with Genkos left her uneasy – far more uneasy than it probably should have. The medical officer had never been a source of aggravation for the red-headed doctor, and yet she’d been unable to shake the conversation they’d had in his office just a few days before. Clearly there was something causing an issue with the leg. He claimed it to be Phantom Limb, she didn’t buy it. There was either something wrong with the leg, or something wrong with Genkos, and she wasn’t sure which. But she was going to find out. Unfortunately, on her quest for answers, she’d stumbled down a rabbit hole of old cases. Some existed in distant recesses of her brain, covered in the haze of time; others were much fresher. She picked up the first PADD: Adea’s limb replacement. Line by line, she combed through the medical report. From the limb’s design and replication by Geoff Teller, to its customizations, to Addison’s transplant, the procedure was as perfect as she could have asked for. She hadn’t been diligent with regular examinations of the limb, but Genkos was a medical officer, and with the surgeon who installed the prosthetic on the same ship, it should have been unspoken that he could have reached out to her if he was experiencing any problems. She picked up another PADD: Adea’s medical history and psychological profile. This was a document with which she’d familiarized herself extensively before she considered him a candidate for the procedure. She knew of the original accident that took his limb, she knew about its replacement, the psychological and physical rehabilitation he underwent, and his dependence on alcohol. While there weren’t any immediate red flags, it was always possible the current issues were rooted somewhere in a past that reports couldn’t reveal. She tossed it down and rolled her eyes in annoyance. Perhaps she’d forward it to Meidra and mandate counseling for him… Another PADD: G’VAR. The security officer from the Veritas was the first patient Teller and MacKenzie had created the new prostheses for, and it served as the beginning of the partnership between the doctor and the engineer, replicating new limbs for those in need. She combed through the original design and procedure and, even though that particular replacement was an arm and partial shoulder joint, the basic principles were the same when it came to Adea’s prosthetic. There had been a few kinks to work out with the original, but once the initial pain subsided, G’var hadn’t reported any additional issues with the prosthetic, nor had any more been logged in her personnel file. She tossed the PADD down and picked up one from a different pile: NICHOLOTTI. The Resolution-Excalibur’s commanding officer had nearly died of a disease that found her shifting through time. Fortunately, Addison had developed a therapy that targeted the group of cells in the woman’s temporal lobe that were causing her to shift through time and witness/experience events that happened in the past. As far as she knew, the Commodore hadn’t reported any further issues, nor had Addison witnessed any behavior that would have been concerning. A success, she supposed. Another PADD from another pile. This time: MACKENZIE. The document had been partially scrolled through, and on the screen when she picked it up was an image of her. The image had been taken just after she was rescued from the Tal Shiar agents who had kidnapped and tortured her shortly after she’d arrived on the Duronis II Embassy. Her face and torso were bruised and swollen nearly beyond recognition. Addison stared at the picture for a moment before her face became warm and she hurled the PADD across the room, clattering against the wall and the floor with a metallic clink. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose, then slowly out through her mouth. She stood up and smoothed the front of her pants, which also allowed her to shake out her legs and restore the blood flow to her feet, and when the pin[...]s on the bottoms of her feet finally stopped, made toward the door. She needed a walk. …or some bourbon. --- Commander Addison MacKenzie, M.D., Ph.D., FASFS First Officer USS Excalibur-A V239601AM0

RIP whiskey...

This. Just this.

(( USS ARROW, ENSIGN JACIN’S PRIVATE QUARTERS)) Ayemet opened the door to her quarters, pausing for a moment in the doorway. The bed was still pristine, as if it had never been touched, the small cabinet next to still had the holo picture frame, its’ carousel of 3d photos still revolving in the pre-rendered sequence. The computer panel and replicator ports both hummed gently, their lights illuminated as if the ship had never been precariously close to destruction. To the side was the small bathroom, a sink and sonic shower in it , but now with Ayemet’s toiletries now lying on the floor, the only immediately visible sign of any disturbance. Ayemet sighed and entered. Walking slowly over to the window she lent against the bulkhead and stared out across the never ending landscape of the blackness of space that was punctuated by stars.. Ayemet glance down at the planet dominating her view. The strange new world that had seemingly plucked them out of the sky and wrenched them downwards towards its’ surface. The planet where so many had come close to death, Lieutenant Waters, Commander Rodan, and Ar’Gorvalei, and those that had died; Amanda Crossley. Ayemet glanced down at her right hand, rubbing it as if that mere physical action would somehow eliminate the memory of looking into her eyes, and feeling her slip away, the strange vision she had had as she tried to bring comfort to her friend, and then the horror at seeing the planet’s resurrection of her body into a strange new lifeform Even though she had found peace in knowing that this showed how life stretched beyond what many considered the end, something that was a tenet of her Bajoran faith, it was still an experience that had shaken her. Still an experience that haunted her, particularly after her telepathic contact with the Crossley Entity. She could feel it tugging at her, calling to her, haunting her. She remembered the Amanda Entity healing the ship. How Lieutenant Waters had been correct in her assumption that the crown device could be retrofitted to enable the entity to communicate. How strange it had been to hear it speak, not in her mind like the empathic conversation she had had with it, but with a strange, gurgling hybrid tone. A strange amalgamation of vegetation and mammal. Or maybe that had been in her imagination, projection of what she expected to hear mixed in somehow with her empathic ability. Or maybe she was too exhausted, and this was simply her memory playing tricks with her. Ayemet had been both fascinated and disturbed as the creature agreed without hesitation to help, knowing instinctively that this was not where the crew of the Arrow belonged, just as it also knew that this was precisely where it did. The process of repairing the Arrow’s systems had been more like watching a strange ethereal performance. The Amanda Entity connecting with the ship physically, the energy flowing from it, and in to the ship’s systems, the lights slowly kicking in, subroutines restarting, The LCARS system rebooting, and eventually the all too familiar hum, barely audible, indicating that ‘life’ had returned to the ship. Ayemet could have sworn that the Entity had smiled, as much as its’ strange, fungal face allowed it to, and had caught its’ glance as it looked around d at the crew before it. A shuttle had been arranged to return it to the planet’s surface, and Ayemet had volunteered , no requested , to accompany it to its’ home. They had shared a brief moment. A sharing of thoughts and feelings. She felt that recognisable sting in her eyes, as they touched, one word echoing in her head. “Time”. And then watched out of the shuttle’s window as it rose up into the sky further and further away from the creature and the planet that teamed with life. She felt loss. She felt guilt, but as he knew that whatever had led to that point, that the Midnight Planet was where the Crossley Entity now belonged. Thew crew had been exemplary. Maria, Rodan, Chloe, Ar’Gorvalei had all faced danger and possible death in their own ways, and had all risen to the occasion showing just why they belonged on the Arrow. They hadn’t lost who they were. In fact quite the contrary it was who they were that enabled them to survive and to save others. The same was a truth for those whom hadn’t been in contact with Ayemet during her time on the planet. This crew worked together in perfect harmony, much like the planet they were on. How weird life was. If nothing else it was full of these strange small coincidences or perhaps they were lessons. She moved away from the window and slowly kneeled down on the floor, pulling a small wooden box out from underneath the bed. She ran a hand over the simple wooden carved top that showed a representation of the Celestial temple etched into the surface, She smiled at the feeling of the craving beneath her fingers, a sweet memory of the day Nisha had presented it to her proudly, Even though her friend had what some might call a more pragmatic view of the Prophets , she never showed anything but respect for Ayemet’s beliefs, and the day she had gifted this box to her friend proudly handing it her, Ayemet had never felt more surprised or grateful. She tenderly opened the lid, the brass hinges shining in the light from the stars. She unfolded the rich Burgundy cloth that covered the contents and reached in pulling out an ornate duranja, considerably smaller than most others she had come across in her life but nonetheless unmistakably Bajoran. Taking out the cloth and spending it across the floor in front of the window she carefully placed the duranja, absentmindedly running a hand across it, as if to welcome an old friend that she hadn’t seen for sometime. She then took the cloth out and placed in on the floor. In the space beneath where the prayer lamp had been lay a few minor accoutrements that Ayemet removed and placed on the cloth completing a small Bajoran shrine. She paused wondering whether she was worthy of offering a prayer for those that had died, for Amanda, o0 Not yet. This doesn’t feel right. Am I doing this for me, or for her? 0o Ayemet stood up and walked over to the bathroom, throwing the rags that used to be a proud Starfleet science officer’s uniform onto the floor. She stepped into the shower and the automatic settings kicked in. The sonic pulses hit her aching body, washing away the dirt and grime. She stood in it for what seemed like forever, her eyes closed in relief rather than joy, letting the shower do its’ work, scrubbing away the more persistent areas of the remnants of the midnight planet. Normally she would have exited the shower feeling refreshed and clean but this time was different. The tension in her body still sat uncomfortably on her bones, a reminder that she had not yet fully come to terms with what had happened on her first official mission. She sorted through her clothes and chose a simple maroon top over a pair of dark leggings, a knitted tunic partially covering the top. Sitting down at the duranja, she took a deep breath, and tried once more to compose herself. Lighting the flame at the centre of the duranja she spoke a traditional prayer for the dead, asking the Prophets to walk with Amanda on her journey, just as she had done for Nisha. The silence on her quarters was broken only by her voice softly repeating the prayer over and over. . The only light that of the stars, and the mellow glow from the flame at the centre of the duranja. It was the last thing she could do for Crossley, and whilst her death was no more tragic that the many before it, and the many that would come after it, it was personal. It was visceral, and every time Ayemet closed her eyes she could see it. She could feel it. It too called to her, weaving its’ way into her subconscious. The blood, the vision, the vacant look from her eyes that desperately searched for meaning, for clarity. The last moments. The resurrection into a new lifeform. Even though Ayemet had come to understand the entity after telepathic contact with it, and found some comfort in the realisation that this life being born from death, she still felt a deep brooding anger inside of her. The counsellor in her would say that this was repressed guilt, and as she moved to the window, staring out into the infinity of space, she knew that to be true. The Bajorans had achieved space flight hundreds of years previously, the El-Aurians even before that. The history of her ancestors was one of exploration, so why did Ayemet feel like she didn’t belong? The sensible thing to do would be to search out the Arrow’s Caitiaan/Deltan Counselor Lieutenant Commander R'Ariel , but if she was going to leave and return to Bajor why bother? Ayemet’s right hand slapped the bulkhead hard in frustration. She looked down at it, almost hypnotised by the fact she was able to feel something other than shame or guilt. She did it again, this time harder, wincing at the throbbing dull ache it now bore. Even in her turmoil she knew that how she was feeling was not healthy. She needed to speak to Commander Rodan or Captain Shayne about leaving, but this was not the time. The ship was out of danger, but everyone was still dealing with the physical and psychological; fallout from their time on the planet. She would wait. She would give it time. Was that what the Entity meant? Something at the back of her mind told her no. It was something else. Something that could heal her if only she would allow it to. She was tired. She needed a drink. She opened her bedside cabinet and took out a bottle of springwine and uncorking it with her teeth took a long slug . Lying down on her quarters floor she stared up at the ceiling and breathed out heavily… Time. .. TBC TAG /Anyone. Ensign Jacin Ayemet Science Officer USS Arrow A239810JA2

I mean, he is in my body... >.<

Which is also here...

I came to post the same thing, but it's already here! And this is just further proof that the Excal crew can do nothing in a normal, calm, typical manner...

Improv at its best...that time when you're running a body swap mission and someone tags someone that wasn't planned for or swapped... (( Unfamiliar Quarters, USS Excalibur )) Kyle woke up on the floor. He was in someone’s quarters, but they weren’t his. Something was very wrong. An itch!! Behind the ear! Scratch central. Relief. Okay. Next? Kinda thirsty. Could probably wait for now. Okay, fine. Report for duty? See what I missed? Sure. He stood up, but for some reason, his height didn’t seem right. Something was strange, indeed. He’d figure it out when he got to Sickbay. (( Sickbay, USS Excalibur )) On the way to Sickbay, people were scattering about. He’d heard the call to quarters, but that still didn’t explain why everyone kept giving him funny looks. It wasn’t until he entered the Excalibur’s Sickbay that it hit him… He wasn’t him – he was looking at him! Oh no way, no way, no way. Standing alongside him was Commander MacKenzie, Commander Yalu, Lieutenants Sherlock and Sirin, and Ensign Dakora. But after a moment, they all left except for Commander MacKenzie. None of them seemed to notice him or acknowledge his existence. Rude. His mentor would certainly say something, but she seemed to pay him no mind either. Right. That’s because HE WASN’T HIM. And the him he knew wasn’t saying much of anything. …it didn’t even seem like the lights were on. K. Morgan (as Toto): WOOF! Addison looked down at him, though from the way she stared at him, he didn’t think she was really Addison anymore, either… Maybe he wasn’t insistent enough. K. Morgan (as Toto): WOOF! Tiberius (as MacKenzie): Response The Weimaraner jumped up on Addison and started nudging her with his nose. K. Morgan (as Toto): WOOF!!! Woof-woof (beat) woof. Tiberius (as MacKenzie): Response Tag, and TBC! --- Lieutenant Kyle Morgan Assistant Chief Medical Officer USS Excalibur-A V239601AM0

Two sims spanning much of the mission elapsed time, knit together to create this amazing masterpiece. (( The "Midnight" Planet - Crashed Pod Site; Immediately after the crash )) Amanda fought to open her eyes, but everything was dark and smelled of smoke and burnt metal. Strange colors blurred in and out of existence. A haze of heavy heat pressed on her chest. A weak arm that seemed attached to her reached out, trying to find a way to move in vain. The bustle of worried voices were too distant to be truly real. Finally that flailing hand found something as it dropped back onto the chest of its owner. The physical pain wasn't nearly as much as the shock of realizing how bad it must be if she could only barely feel it until that moment. She had enough medical training, even as a cadet, to know full well the prognosis. She tried to call out. She couldn't. Fortunately, it wasn't needed because a blonde Bajoran ensign was at her side. Amanda almost relaxed - she could remember filling the woman's medical records just recently. Amanda, being the chatterbox about home she usually was, had shared lots about home. Jacin: Hey there. Amanda. It’s Ayemet. How are you doing? Amanda drew a raspy breath in an attempt to reply, only to manage a wet cough. oO How am I doing? I'm dying, is how I'm doing... Oo At first the realization was half-sarcastic, but the severity set in with a wave of panic. She was dying. There was no sickbay to go to. No emergency transporters to rely on. No chance of being resuscitated. This was it. The true final frontier. The one you didn't come back from. A warm hand passed through her hair. It was the kind of thing her mother would do for her when she was young, and it was a small blessing that it kept the true weight of reality from crushing her. Jacin: I know you’re scared ::she continued to lightly caress Crossley’s left hand:: But there’s nothing to be afraid of. You are safe and warm. Surrounded by that bright orange sun that shone down on you that time you went to the Barrier Reef. Amanda grasped onto Ayemet's, as if her grip could keep her tether to the world of the living. She smiled faintly. But she knew the biological processes. She could already feel the slow fuzz of blood loss creeping over her mind, the chemistry slowly diminishing, quieting to a dull unfocused hum. She tried to look at the kind ensign, but the very act of doing so was so very hard... Jacin: You’re not alone. You are about to go on a great adventure. I remember you telling me how much you lived for adventure.I’m with you. Saying with you. You’re not alone. I want to think of your favorite place in the world, the place that makes you the happiest. You’re going there. Amanda nearly smiled her girlish smile, but her body simply wouldn't let her. Just breathing was enough of a chore. Softly, sweetly, the strange air came alive with music. Something familiar, yet not, the Ayemet's voice filled that slow backward slip of the mind and body forgetting it was supposed to be alive. The Bajoran's voice, though hoarse with grief over the inevitable, took her back home. To peace. For a moment she was on a golden beach, a dog running by her side with some kind of green ball in its mouth, a man ahead laughing at her. Amanda was not alone in her memory. Man: Come on Amanda! Do you really want to be beaten in a race with a pug? At last, the night took Amanda Crossley. But it was not the end. (( Somewhere. Everywhere. Nowhere. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. )) Before all things, there was the Great Light. The Great Light, seeing the totality of darkness and its cruel grasp over the universe, gave its life in a great exhalation that spread a trillion trillion spores across the entirety of everything. In time, its sacrifice would utterly banish the darkness, forcing it to hide from the Light's brilliantly luminous children in the smallest cracks and crevices of space. One child of the Light was bestowed a very particular curse. There was a ball of rock, just inside of it's reach, that stubbornly insisted on hiding so much of its face from the warmth and life the light gave it. So, the child of the Light made a decision to act, unlike many of its brothers and sisters: it would come to inhabit the planet. To give its energy to the primordial life that had just begun to form on the rock. To ensure that even when the skies faced outward to the moonless darkness of space, every corner would be filled with a richness of color and luminous power. In a billion years, this place would be a garden the likes of which would be unimaginable by the curious space-dwellers whose feet tramped the ground, scampering about looking for technology or science to save them when they only needed Light. In another billion years, maybe they too would come to truly understand the Light. For now, their visit was barely noticeable. I had lasted (was going to last?) only a fleeting femtosecond from the perspective of the Light's child. It was like a fly had landed on a dirty plate, only to take off again the moment someone bothered to look, disappearing to wherever it came from. The child of the Great Light rarely took an interest in the creatures that inhabited its planet. Their lives were like the moment a stone dropped into water, the instant it was neither dry nor wet. But everything on this planet was inextricably part of it, and in return it was part of them. Such was the nature of choosing to dwell on this planet, rather than in the high throne of its star. Every living being, from the most humble proto-bacteria to the altogether-too-clever-Zelph had their energies bound up with that of the Great Light's child. Such was its promise to this place. Few entities in the universe understood the importance death had for life better than the Great Light's child. It's own existence depended on the death of another being. Every living creature on its planet depended on the stuff of the Light child's dead brothers and sisters. Every act of creation was equally an act of creative destruction. Little wonder then, that life was short and vigorous on its planet, each cycle giving way to another form of life yet more bizarre and wondrous and complex. Death and life were perfectly balanced, their energies pushing diversity and light to dizzying new heights. The first fleck of rich wet soil had yet to cover the body of what used to be Amanda Crossley, and already her body had been colonized by the spores of at least a dozen different species of fungi - this planet's great recycler of dead things. In minutes, invisible tendrils had already sunken into the decaying flesh around her wound, seeing as it was no longer being used. From there, they followed the highways of blood vessels and nerves, pulled on the muscles, discovering and exploring a shape and structure as alien to them as they were to it. However, a human body does not decay all in one go. As ruined as the vessel the fungi now colonized was, a great deal of material was vastly more useful when supplied with nothing more than a splash of oxygen, glucose, and a smattering of other compounds and minerals that were surpassingly easy to come by as a fungus. In fact, they found that this vessel was capable of emitting tremendous Light along its long inner tendrils, and there was a particularly useful mass of cells that could emit Light at one end, just inside a hard shell. Chemical messengers were dispatched. Enzymes were manufactured. The fungi would work together to supply the cells with whatever they needed. To rebuild. Amanda's life replayed inside her mind as neural bridges were repaired and electrical activity swung upwards. Instead of her father, she saw the Great Light. The sands on her favorite beach were spores of fungus, sparkling and glittering like multi-spectral Christmas lights. The waves of water were the cycle of life and death of entire stars. Instead of her pug, it was a Fungaluf[...]us, playing fetch with a tricorder. The academy, her time on the Arrow - all of it was there, but understood and remembered in an entirely new way. The next thing she knew, Amanda was standing, looking down on her own grave. (( The "Midnight" Planet - Crashed Pod Site; Current Time )) Amanda took a breath on instinct, but she no longer had use of her lungs. An incredible sensation washed over her limbs, simultaneously strong as steel and frail as a flower. She curled and wiggled her fingers, only beginning to grasp what had happened to her. As all beings born of the midnight planet, she shared in the link with the Light that spread through all things, but her new form had only just come into existence and fear was a powerful instinct. That instinct overwhelmed her almost immediately as she saw herself glowing in a thousand different shades. So, she ran as fast as she could into the night. But running couldn't help her escape herself. She didn't make it far. Once she stopped, she finally saw the forest around her for the first time. It vibrated with light. It spoke to her, in a way. She saw her own golden-white light spread out through the sheet of mycelial webbing beneath her. She sucked in the air filled with billions of sparkling spores she couldn't have seen before, feeling her own dual alien nature steadily tangling and welding itself together. Amanda was a branch grafted onto the planet's fungal tree of life. She reached out, and the forest responded to her, breathing with her, living with her, sensing with her - and she with it. A shiver went down her spine. Something was calling her. She stood back up, and a path revealed itself to her, leading back to the camp. Red and white pulsed and flowed through the vines - or at least her perception of them. One step carefully in front of the other, leading back to the camp. Her back shook again, she could hear it this time, a feeling in every one of her bones (or what was left of them). The call was getting louder. Alvarez: MEDIC! A voice from the clearing rang out. A familiar voice, yet one totally alien. She found herself helplessly drawn closer and closer to call, despite her primal human fear slowly rising again. She didn't even know who or what she was? How would the others react? There was no stopping though. Her new instincts drew her to the call, overriding even fight-or-flight. She continued stepping, until she had to push aside a canvas flap to reach the source of the call. The moment she did, she understood. (( The "Midnight" Planet - Crashed Pod Site )) Amanda - the luminous reincarnate fungal being, not the cadet - saw something very different from anything she could have ever seen when she stepped into that tent. Immediately, she was transfixed by the two-legged, two-arm form laying on the ground, and the lights twinkling inside of that living body. They were brilliant, but erratic, and thousands of spores had landed on him seeking to convert the rapid dimming of death into a blaze of life. She could see them all - it was as if he was covered in sparkling sand. Black tendrils of darkness spread through his chest and head only to be banished back again by the resilient strength of his body. She had been called here to help reclaim dead matter, but he was not yet dead. She could feel the primal urge to feed, to add to the planet's light. So, she stepped forward utterly engulfed in the new instinct, even though part of her knew better. The human part did. She stopped short at the sight of a tall human form in front of her, lit by a passionate and vibrant inner red light. Red like fire. It suddenly got very large, and bared its teeth. The suddenness of it frightened Amanda, who still held onto many of her humanisms. She backed up, uncertain of how to proceed. When she did, she found her cornered by another woman. Soon enough, there was a third woman, and another man. Outnumbered, and her instinct to banish the darkness no less diminished, there was nowhere to go. Alvarez: Crossley? A flash of recognition flooded through the newly-reconstructed gray matter at the sound of that particular configuration of sounds washing across the soft membranes of fungus. Yes. That was her name, once. Jacin: No. The realizations came fast and furious. Her brain had been scrambled, reassembled, parasitized, reincarnated, and experienced many other things that escaped the limited imagination of words. So, it was more a matter of the emergent memories being properly filed away. Or misfiled, as the case may be. As she faced one of the women (her light was dappled and of a most beautiful blend of ruddy, earthen orange and piercing blue like lightning; mixing like oil paints on a palette), her new body responded to the smells of fear and rage that rose in a steam from the other's skin. Jacin: No. The sensation of her light was familiar - that was the only thing keeping the hostility from being responded with like action. There was no escape for Amanda-of-the-fungi from the four individuals now, but this light was a great comfort. Still, Amanda needed to do something about the darkening of the form on the ground. She was slowly coming to understand her own relationship to these creatures around her. That they were somehow close to her. Part of her prior existence. If only she could somehow make them understand... Rodan: Stand down, Ensign. Let's all take a moment... The words bore meaning, even if the even tone carried more weight than the vocabulary, which her mind was still struggling with. But this woman in front of her... She could almost place the connection she felt. Jacin: No. The single sound meant nothing to her. She had to find out why. Why the orange-and-blue woman hated and feared her. Why Amanda felt such a bond with her in return, despite that. So, the fungus did the only thing it knew how to do. It reached out. To touch. To taste. To read. To know. Amanda's arm jerked out instinctively in a flash. The body shrieked in shock by vibrating its skin when it found itself in pain for the very first time with a vice-like grip squishing its tender fungal flesh. Fungus, lacking a true nervous system, had never felt even the slightest discomfort before. The experience was like receiving news that a thousand acres of forest had been squashed and burnt by a meteorite, only a thousand times more immediate. Rodan: That's enough! The standing man intervened, and the red-lit woman's fire turned to a comfortable hearth-glow as she took the woman in her embrace. Somehow, the body knew to relax, to retreat again. As it did, the essence of her living kin seeped into her veins, broken down and integrated into her very being. The dead skin and oils and DNA were read in by the fungus, and she fully understood. These people were once the trees that stood next to her in the grove; their roots were once tangled with hers. Where she had succumbed to calamity and fallen to the forest floor, their trunks still stood tall, their branches still bore leaves and flowers aplenty. Their inner lights still shone bright where hers had faded, only to be re-lit by a million spores. Rodan: Alvarez, get her out of here! Alvarez: ::Quietly. :: You're okay. I've got you. Waters: Response Rodan: Take a walk, get some air. Any: Response Amanda truly understood, finally, what was transpiring. The body felt something else entirely new - a wash of immense guilt. She should never have made a move like that towards someone so afraid. The fungus never before had the ability to understand what it meant to make a mistake. It simply just was. There was no choice in the matter. Anywhere there was death, it would bring back life. Rodan: Did you do this? Amanda's comprehension of the crude auditory language she once spoke was still slowly returning, but she could piece enough together to get the gist. She attempted verbal communication, for her lights clearly could not be read. Given the body lacked any semblance of breath or working lungs, a strange wet bubbling and burbling noise was all the body could manage. Crossley: brrsssbsbb Alvarez: He was like that when I got here. It - :: She nodded in the direction of Crossley :: showed up after I did. Waters: Response Some semblance of calm seemed to take over the tent again, and somehow Amanda understood her new existence was safe again. More than that, she understood that she could not heed the call that still beckoned her. The man on the ground... he still lived. There was no need for his light to leave him. The Great Light had already received its tribute in the form of the flesh she now occupied. She knew she had to help, but how? Her understanding of herself was so limited, how could she give back? She watched the standing man for a moment, his twin stars of light - one a fabulous rainbow of color that somehow didn't mix - trying to do something, but to no avail. Rodan: If he dies, will he transform too? Alvarez: I think we have to assume so... The secret already lay within her. Perhaps it was fortunate that some remaining piece of the woman who once trained to be a physician understood something of the biology of what had happened to her. Now, that knowledge existed on a liminal plane, more like a subconscious suggestion of what to do. Simple chemistry. That's all her body was. The fungi had brought her back because they happened to supply the body with the right nutrients, and because the scaffolding her old body provided gave a new way for the fungus to cooperate and understand itself. The tools already existed quite literally at her fingertips: control of the fungus, control of the body's natural processes, and most importantly the Light itself. Perhaps she could use those intentionally, rather than instinctually. In fact, as the thought appeared, she knew she could. Or rather, her body knew it could. She stepped cautiously forward, not wishing to repeat her mistake. She motioned carefully at the rainbow-man, lightly pushing the tricorder down and away. She wouldn't need it, even if she remembered what the device was for. She could already see the entirety of the problem laid out before her, equally with the solution - now plain as day. She knelt down, and her hand went to the black gash at the doctor's head, covered in a multi-spectral dusting of spores setting to work on someone who's time hadn't yet come. She breathed in their light. Her body accepted at last its true existence. She was the Light. The Light was her. Her form was not limited to the mangled toes and fingers and face of this body, her awareness and existence spread across the entirety of the rock she might have once called the Midnight planet. She drew forth its power, its life and energy, sucking it into herself until the tent became as brilliantly bright as high noon. Jacin :Whispering: It’s healing him. Waters: Response She could feel the presence of the man under her fingertips in her mind too, the beginnings of this planet's invasion of his being. His fear and pain became hers, at least until she transferred a piece of her Light to him, along with the critical biological elements his body needed. It was a trivial gift for a globe spanning network of fungus to give, but a critical one for him to receive. She could feel the spores retreating from him into her. His body stitching itself back together as if observed in time-lapse. In moments, it was over. The man's light was restored to a full, verdant strength. The call had quieted to a steady thrum. One miracle completed, her work continued. Rodan: Oh, boy... She stood again, and stepped to the rainbow-man. She reached forward, her ruined face asking for permission to do the same for him. He did not retreat, which she took to mean that it was given. Again, she touched the invading sparkle on his torso, almost as if in a form of rebuke against the fungus for so rudely going somewhere it should not have. Her power came more easily this time, her bond with the Light and the planet it lived on intensifying with exercise. It was all over within seconds. Amanda understood the reaction as gratitude. She didn't know how to communicate anything back. Rodan: Remarkable! The still-human part of Amanda agreed. The fungal form simply was doing what it always knew it could. Alvarez: Well, then! Why don't we all get in line for a mushroom light pick-me-up! Waters: Response The green-lighted man she'd restored first sat up. She felt a new emotion she'd never known before - something that oscillated between pride and joy at seeing his light and health restored. Ar’Gorvalei: Crossley? There was that word again. She was beginning to understand it as the label that belonged to her before her bark turned to mulch. Alvarez: It certainly looks like her. But it doesn't act very much like her. Maybe we could ask? Ar’Gorvalei: It’s still her, I think, or some part of her. But she can’t speak. :: Looking at Chloe :: Were you able to make the modifications on your crown? Alvarez: If we were looking for something with actual intelligence, possibly sentience, to communicate with, I think we found it… Waters/Any: Response Amanda found herself drawn back towards the orange-and-blue woman. The one she could just barely remember. The one that made her feel comfortable, despite everything. There was a tiny little nut of black hanging just above the woman's belly. She wasn't sure how, but she could vaguely sense the woman's thoughts - something about her was different from the others. Amanda stretched out a hand, offering to dispel the darkness. o0 Broken? 0o Jacin : nodding.: Sorry. She repeated the offer. o0 Mend? 0o Jacin : shaking head: Can’t mend. Broken. Amanda-of-the-fungus considered. She wouldn't do something against the woman's will, however much that absence of light went against her nature. There was another thing that would bring back the light. o0 Time. 0o She reached out, and attempted to comfort the orange-and-blue woman. The one that had been there when her trunk had succumbed to rot. The touch returned was satisfactory reassurance, if only just. Jacin: Sorry. :: She turned to face the others. :: You’re wrong Mr Ar’Gorvalei. It's not Crossley. There’s nothing of her left. It’s the planet. It’s a physical representation of a perfect ecosystem.. She turned to the one whose light leaked from her head into a wreath of light-filled flowers. Jacin: The Crown should work perfectly. It’s not only able to understand. It should be able to communicate on a rudimentary basis. Alvarez: What? How can you know that? Jacin: Response? Alvarez: This stuff is way outside my area of expertise. But I say we try it. How much crazier can things really get? :: She smirked. :: Amanda could only just tell, but she sensed something was afoot by the way their noises had changed. Something possibly very good. She desperately wanted to tell them everything was okay, to explain how much she now knew, and how little she still understood. Part of her still felt that bond with her grove-mates, and wanted to share with them everything. Ar'Gorvalei/Waters/Jacin/Rodan: Response Alvarez: Well, here goes nothing, right? Ar'Gorvalei/Waters/Jacin/Rodan: Response Tag/TBC... Amanda Crossley Former Cadet, USS Arrow Child of the Midnight Planet as simmed by Lieutenant JG Maria Alvarez Operations Officer USS Arrow - NCC-69829 A239710MA0 Wiki Operator

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