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Kali Nicholotti

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Posts posted by Kali Nicholotti

    Lt Ben Livingston - Full Lieutenant? Settle for Three-Quarters, perhap

    in 2013

    Posted

    ((Holodeck, Starbase 118))

    ::Captain Nicholotti commanded the attention of her staff in much the same way she always managed to do it. The magnetism she projected and the respect she commanded captivated the beach-goers.::

    Nicholotti: Hello everyone. ::She smiled.:: I do hope that you will all enjoy the good food and good company we've managed to pull together for this little gathering.

    ::As she spoke, the intricate, “political” situation seemed to unravel itself before Ben’s very eyes. An explanation was provided regarding Lt. Commander Matthews’ presence, and the Captain managed to frame it as Starfleet Command having great confidence in the Starbase Operations staff. Then, as though to something between a consolation prize and a catalyst for the whole shift, Commander Walker was restored to the rank of captain. ::

    ::Ben found himself scratching his head as to how events had unfolded to land them where they were. Despite the brief explanation regarding Walker’s history, the whole situation seemed quite strange. However they’d gotten here, Ben foresaw some very difficult conversations between their Commanding Officer, First Officer, and Second Officer resulting from the huge jumble of positions and ranks. Ranks were supposed to make everything more clearly defined, yet here they seemed to do the opposite.::

    Nicholotti: I also want to formally offer promotions that were granted in the field during this last mission. Captain Dubeau, and Lieutenant MacLaren, if you would please join me?


    ::Ben smiled as the pair stepped forward to receive their well-deserved promotions.::

    Alex Matthews: ::Speaking from the crowd.:: Captain if you will permit me. I would like to announce the engagement of Captain Dubeau and Doctor MacLaren. If you all would join me in giving them both your best wishes and hearty congratulations.

    ::He grinned broadly as the two stepped back into the crowd, smiling to one another, then returned his attention to the Captain.::

    Nicholotti: Finally, I have a couple of new promotions to add to that list. I would be lost without officers like all of you, and I am proud to be the Captain of this crew. It is my hope that one day, you will be the next generation of Captains, taking Starfleet to new places, and new heights. For now, I consider it a privilege to promote Lieutenant JG Livingston to full Lieutenant, and Lieutenant JG Silveira to full Lieutenant, with all rights and privileges therein.

    ::Ben stepped back in surprise, catching himself just before he stepped on someone’s foot. His mind raced.::

    ((Flashback – USS Columbia, Deck 24, Main Engineering))

    ::Ben glanced over to the spot where Kevin had been, moments ago. Now that someone had taken him to medical, he’d receive the proper treatment, at least there was the peace of knowing he was in good hands. The Chief Engineer had done precisely what Ben had wished he had done in protecting his ship, but the ugly outcome was far from desirable. For a moment, he wished their places might have been reversed; that he had gone down fighting and Breeman was still ready and able to secure the ship. Then, they might all have a chance at survival. As it was … ::

    ::Main Engineering was a busy place again. Those engineers who had escaped the scene had filtered back in, and those who had taken shelter were back at their posts – or what was left of them. Most had no station to work from, and if they had, they wouldn’t know what to do. With Katy still on the line with Commander Walker, Ben took a place atop a damaged piece of equipment.::

    Livingston: ::Aloud:: Alright everybody – listen up! Right here, right now, this looks like the aftermath of a terrible event. But elsewhere on Columbia, they’re still in the thick of it! We’re going to help them. And we’re going to keep the rest of these dragons outside the ship, or we won’t stand a chance.

    ::Ben paused, trying to allow the situation to settle before continuing. Many of the faces looking at him were pale, frightened things and the rest looked so exhausted that he wasn’t sure they’d be help at all. But they had to be – they would have to put everything they could muster into this, just as Livingston himself was putting forward more than he thought he had.::

    Livingston: So this is the gameplan. Power teams –get these damaged EPS ducts and conduits up and running. We’re lucky to have energy at all, and anything else will take it out completely. Reactor and warp drive teams, guess what? You’re power engineers now, so help them out.

    ::Many of the engineers hurried off toward the damaged areas.::

    Livingston: Maintenance teams, and everyone else, I want all hull breaches identified and prioritized, and I want any systems down fixed ASAP. Team leads – you’re in my office in three minutes, and bring ideas on how to keep these monsters out.

    ::As the rest of the went off to their assignments, Ben was left alone to feel the implications of the threat they still faced.::

    ((End Flashback))

    ::Ben shuddered as he remembered the events. Kevin had stood alone against the monster that invaded their sanctuary. And then, all of a sudden, he was removed from the equation. Kevin had been needed. He had relationships with the other engineers. He had the experience to know what to fix first and what could wait. Ben had been shooting from the hip as he said those words, trying to put forth some illusion that he knew what to do.::

    ::It all came down to this: It should not have been Commander Breeman standing against that dragon. It should have been Lieutenant, Junior Grade Livingston. The one who was more expendable; the one who had no idea, in the aftermath, of what to do.::

    ((Flashback – NCO Briefing – USS Columbia, Livingston’s Office))

    Karzai: Yes, that would work!

    Livingston: Alright – is that something your folks can do, or do you need the output in a different format?

    Karzai: We’d need a surface geometry file – but we can convert it.

    :: A number of other ideas came up, and before long, the list had grown into a true plan. No single idea would keep them safe by itself, but the redundancy and overlap would be a layered defense; a concentric castle that would, hopefully, protect against these dragons better than their medieval counterparts. With a nod, Ben brought the meeting to a conclusion.::

    Livingston: Droogendyk, take Yung and put together details of what it’d take to keep it running. Start by checking our inventories for anything we’ve got – I don’t want to use more power on replicators than we’ll get out of the things.

    Droogendyk: Yes sir. A lot of the parts will be in the lockers already under de west bay. Dat didn't take a lot of damage.

    Livingston: That’s fine. Anything else?

    Droogendyk: Nope.

    Livingston: Alright, Karzai, I want that power output map for Ops ASAP – that’s our short-term solution, so pull in whatever resources you need.

    Karzai: Yes, sir.

    Livingston: Alright, everyone else, keep your teams up and running, and let me know immediately if you need any additional resources. Dismissed!

    ((End Flashback))


    ::The previous missions had pushed every officer to their breaking point. For Ben, it had meant being bigger, being stronger, being more certain than he actually was. It meant filling a role for which he was not qualified.::

    ::Missions were supposed to strengthen people and accomplish things. At the end of all this, though, Ben felt only less certain. Had they managed to pull through and rescue their crewmembers despite the tremendous obstacles? Yes, they had. But Ben felt wearied by it, as though in the sleepy stupor that lingers when awoken in the night.::

    ::Lieutenant Ben Livingston meant more responsibility, not less, than Lieutenant, Junior Grade Ben Livingston. It meant he’d be called on to an even greater extent, though he felt pressed to the limit as it was.

    What would happen if he was not up to the task? The only way to grow is to stretch outward, but do you know as you approach your limit the moment at which you’ll topple over?::

    ::Over to the side, Vitor stepped forward to receive his promotion.

    What was he thinking about it? Ben had no idea. In that moment, Ben was not certain of the outcome, but seeing no alternative, he gulped down his apprehension and made up his mind to boldly go into the unknown.::

    ::He stepped forward.::

    Silveira: Thank you Captain. ::he winked as he received the pip.::

    LIVINGSTON: ::quietly:: Thank you, Captain.

    ::As he received the pip in his hand, it seemed heavier than he had expected. His hand dropped slightly under its weight. Was it a pip made of lead, perhaps, or a pip made of gold?::

    Nicholotti: Congratulations to you both. ::And then, after a moment, she released all of her officers to the relaxing call of the beach, the festive nature of the circus, and the alluring call of the food.::

    And with that complete, enjoy the party!

    ::As the buzz of excitement began to whirl once more around him, Ben was, for now, still in that moment. Beside him, perhaps, someone had said “congratulations,” but whether to him or someone else, he neither knew nor wanted to find out. Ben remembered what Captain Nicholotti had said. The words rang in his ears.::

    ((Flashback – moments before))

    Nicholotti: It is my hope that one day, you will be the next generation of Captains, taking Starfleet to new places, and new heights.

    ((End Flashback))

    ::It was most probably something said for dramatic effect, or a token expression used at promotions. But the words had been said, and whatever she’d meant by them, to Ben they heralded the long years of a career filled with the sorts of tragedies and trials that he’d already faced. If there would someday be a Captain Livingston, Ben wondered as a sort of passive observer who it would be. It would not be the Ben Livingston of this day. It certainly would not be the bright-eyed ensign he’d been when he first stepped onto the Starbase. That man had been killed aboard the Columbia.::

    ----

    Lieutenant Ben Livingston

    Assistant Chief Engineer

    Starbase 118 Ops



    • Like 1

    Lt JG Ben Livingston - Brotherly Love

    in 2013

    Posted

    ((Main Engineering))

    ::Ben scanned over the text that now appeared on the screen. His stomach tightened as he read the words.::

    ---

    Mr. John Livingston, Esq.,

    I am pleased to inform you that after careful review, Starfleet Command and the Starfleet Academy Commandant have decided to accept your application to Starfleet Academy, San Francisco campus, to study in our Law program.

    If you choose to accept this offer, please reply within two weeks. You will report for duty at the San Francisco campus on Stardate 239004.01. You will find logistics attached to this letter, as well as required reading to be completed prior to your arrival.

    ---

    ::The letter continued, but Ben could not.::

    B. Livingston: John! What have you done!?

    ::The screen switched from text back to the image of his brother, doubled over in laughter.::

    J. Livingston: Ha ha! You should have seen the look on your face when you read that, Bennie boy! Oh, wait! You can.

    ::The screen changed to a still of Ben’s face, somewhere between disbelief and rage. Ben clenched his jaw as he sat watching it until John switched the view back. Now able to look at his brother, Ben glowered at him and leveled a finger straight at his brother’s face.::

    B. Livingston: You listen to me. You cannot accept that offer. And don’t tell Dad about it, he’ll blow a gasket real quick. You know how he reacted when I applied, and that must have been much easier for him. At least I’d already become an engineer – Starfleet was less of a fall.

    J. Livingston: ::adopting a particularly sober expression, John nodded
    slowly.:: You’re right, Ben, you’re right. Dad would be upset. It’s just that, well … well, I already accepted the offer, and I’ve already told him. ::John smiled broadly and slapped the desk.:: And you’re right, he was so mad … oh, jeez, you should have heard him.

    ::Silence fell between them, and it remained for a moment as Ben thought. There were few situations that got under Ben’s skin. He’d found many more since joining 118, but that was the nature of the beast. The other thing that consistently managed to irritate him was any situation involving John. The man – boy, really – had a knack for finding those things that annoyed people, and poking them right
    there.::

    ::And this was exactly one of those places. Starfleet had become a refuge for Ben – away from corporate life, a place he could excel and make a difference, and a way of feeling useful. But John? He didn’t have the same values as Ben. What values did this jokester even have?
    The whole reason probably was to annoy him.::

    B. Livingston: John, why did you apply?

    J. Livingston: What do you mean? I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my big brother!

    ::Ben arched an eyebrow.::

    B. Livingston: No you didn’t. ::beat:: Why’d you do it?

    J. Livingston: Well it’s complicated, Bennie. But here’s the thing.
    The galaxy is a complicated place, politically, legally, morally … ::John trailed off, implying that the list went on and on, or as John might have said, ad infinitum:: The Federation needs strong minded individuals with skills over a broad range of specialties, not the least of which –

    B. Livingston: I’ve heard the pitch, John.

    J. Livingston: ::shifting in his seat.:: I thought you’d be happy. Or at least happy for me.

    B. Livingston: How’d you get in with your record?

    J. Livingston: Top 5%, you know that.

    B. Livingston: Not that record.

    ::Silence descended once more. This time, Ben was not thinking. John, on the other hand, clearly was. His lips parted slightly a few times before he managed to speak.::

    J. Livingston: Ben, please.

    B. Livingston: How?

    J. Livingston: Ben, remember … I wasn’t convicted. You know that.

    B. Livingston: And you remember. About what you put me through. All of us through. ::He shook his head slowly.:: Everything those families had to go through.

    ::John looked increasingly uncomfortable. He looked stung by an internal agony. It was an expression that Ben had seen before, and for half a moment, the hardness Ben felt was fractured and his own pain managed to find its way through.::

    ((Flashback – years ago))

    Bailiff: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

    ::Ben looked down to find his hand resting upon the cover, his fingertips sensing the book’s beauty and softness. His other arm was
    midair.::

    Livingston: I do.

    ::The book dropped from beneath his hand; the Bailiff retreated with it under his arm. Ben looked around and the crowded room, then sat.
    The seat, too, was very comfortable, much as the book had been.::

    Judge: Please state your name for the record.

    Livingston: Ben Livingston.

    Judge: Your FULL name, Mr. Livingston.

    Livingston: ::beat:: Benjamin Livingston.

    Judge: And your relation to the defendant?

    ::Ben closed his eyes and swallowed what little was in his dry mouth.
    His tongue tasted like sandpaper. He looked up at the judge, who glowered, jaw clenched and gavel in hand, down at him. The prosecutor, likewise, stood facing him with arms crossed.::

    ::He looked over to the table before him, where sat, eyes pleading and sorrowful and contrite, the boy who had looked at him so many times before, after getting himself into trouble with the neighbors or Mom and Dad or his teachers.::

    ::Ben gulped down the sandpaper.::

    Livingston: He is my brother.

    Prosecutor: And on the day that … ::sniff:: ahem, that this tragedy occurred, Mr. Livingston. Where were you?

    ::Ben reached to grab his hand. When had it begun shaking? He leaned in toward the small microphone before him.::

    Livingston: I was at home.

    Prosecutor: And your home is where?

    Livingston: Boston, Massachusetts.

    Prosecutor: So you were not with the defendant in New York City on that day.

    Livingston: No. But I did speak to him that morning.

    Prosecutor: But to be clear, you were not WITH him, Mr. Livingston?

    ::Ben’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.::

    Judge: I remind you that you are under oath to tell the truth.

    Livingston: ::beat:: No. I was not.

    ::Ben’s gaze wandered back to the seat in front of him. His brother held his head in his hands, fingers gripping his hair. Those big, brown eyes had always laughed. Now there was more anguish in them than
    amusement.::

    ((End flashback))

    ::Deep inside of him, Ben could feel some kind of emotion welling up – one that he had felt rarely but very recently. He wanted to reach out, through the screen and take hold of his brother, pull him close and hug the man that he had so often wanted to hit.::

    J. Livingston: Ben … I don’t know what to say.

    ::Ben struggled to find some words as he fought back the tears that wanted to burst forth. If he hadn’t just remembered about all this recently, maybe it wouldn’t have been so hard. Maybe he wouldn’t have brought it up. If only he hadn’t been on that mission just before. He sighed, trying desperately to think of what to say.::

    J. Livingston: I guess I’d better go.

    B. Livingston: John, wait -- ::no words seemed to express what he wanted to say.:: oO don’t go? I’m sorry? I know all of that wasn’t your fault? I’m proud of you? What do I say here? Oo Just … promise me something. Let’s talk again soon, huh? It’s been too long.

    ::John nodded rapidly, those bright eyes now shiny and red as he pursed his lips in an expression Ben had never seen from his brother.
    They made eye contact again for just an instant before John looked away again and reached out to tap a button in front of him. The screen went black.::

    ::Letting an enormous sigh escape, Ben rocked back in his chair and let fingers run through his hair.::

    Livingston: oO What have I said to him? What have I done? He was only a kid … Oo

    ::A minute passed as he thought quietly over all that had transpired before he decided to try to do something productive and take his mind off of it. He searched around for something in front of him, but after picking up a PADD, he tossed it back onto the desk. He sighed again.::

    Livingston: Computer – letter composition. Take dictation. My dear brother John. At some point in the future, we’ll talk again about the events that neither of us like to speak about. When we do, I will do my best to make sure it is done in a productive manner, and not brought up in anger. I am also very proud that you have been able to recover yourself and not only succeed in law school, but be accepted by the very selective Starfleet Academy. Despite everything we just said to one another, I’m proud to call you brother. Now, I do want to offer some advice as you embark on this newest adventure. After all, it’s one of the few escapades you’ve taken for which I have advice to give that’s not “don’t.”

    ::Ben smiled to himself as he imagined his brother laughing at that line. He gathered his thoughts, then continued.::

    -----

    Lieutenant, J.G. Ben Livingston
    Assistant Chief Engineer
    Starbase 118 Ops

    Lt JG Ben Livingston - Witness

    in 2013

    Posted

    ((Runabout Rick Husband))

    ::Through the runabout, a voice echoed. It was peaceful, perhaps, but some kind of surety or strength stood behind the pleasant façade.::

    Odyssey Station: Welcome to Odyssey Station. Please proceed to the nearest docking port. All Travelers must abide by the Wayfarer's Code while visiting the station.

    ((Flashback moments prior))

    ::Opening his eyes just long enough to note that Kevin was staring out the window, Ben forced them shut again. His hands gripped his shoulder straps as they plunged through the gravity well and into probably, oblivion. When he could tell that theyd passed through, he opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He could feel anxiety slipping off of him now that they were there.::

    ::Unbuckling his safety restraint, Ben walked past officers trying to catch a first glimpse of where they were headed. His hand went out before him as he walked toward the door of the [...]pit, and it pressed on the door, which yielded and opened. Stepping across the threshold, he crossed into the courtroom and took a seat beside an older gentleman wearing a pinstriped suit. No sooner had he taken a seat than the proceedings began.::

    Bailiff: All rise for the honorable judge Justin Phillips III!

    :: As everyone stood, Ben looked around. So many of them were there. Perhaps not as many as the day before, but that was natural. For some, it must have been hard to come at all; returning would not be easy. Friends and family of the deceased held one another, crying. The judge sat, and the old wooden benches creaked as everyone in attendance followed. Ben lost himself as he examined in detail those in mourning.::

    Prosecutor: The prosecution calls Benjamin Livingston!

    Livingston: oO What? Oo

    ::Ben went stiff as a board, every hair standing up on end. Involuntarily, his legs straightened beneath him, lifting him to an upright position. They began to carry him forward, toward the bench. As he looked around, the tear-filled, glaring eyes had shifted to him!::

    Livingston: oO This isnt right I didnt do anything. I wasnt involved! Oo

    :: His slow, forced steps quickened as he sought to move past the angry onlookers. Reaching the appointed seat, he was approached by the bailiff, who offered him a beautiful leather-bound book one of only a few hed seen in his life.::

    Bailiff: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

    ::Ben looked down to find his hand resting upon the cover, his fingertips sensing the books beauty and softness. His other arm was midair.::

    Livingston: I do.

    ::The book dropped from beneath his hand; the Bailiff retreated with it under his arm. Ben looked around and the crowded room, then sat. The seat, too, was very comfortable, much as the book had been.::

    Judge: Please state your name for the record.

    Livingston: Ben Livingston.

    Judge: Your FULL name, Mr. Livingston.

    Livingston: ::beat:: Benjamin Livingston.

    Judge: And your relation to the defendant?

    ::Ben closed his eyes and swallowed what little was in his dry mouth. His tongue tasted like sandpaper. He looked up at the judge, who glowered, jaw clenched and gavel in hand, down at him. The prosecutor, likewise, stood facing him with arms crossed.::

    ::He looked over to the table before him, where sat, eyes pleading and sorrowful and contrite, the boy who had looked at him so many times before, after getting himself into trouble with the neighbors or Mom and Dad or his teachers.::

    ::Ben gulped down the sandpaper.::

    Livingston: He is my brother.

    Prosecutor: And your Starfleet rank, Mr. Livingston?

    Livingston: ::frowning:: Im not in Starfleet. I work for a corporation.

    Judge: ::loudly:: Answer the question, Mr. Livingston.

    Livingston: Lieutenant, Junior Grade attached to Starbase 118 Operations. ::He glanced to the side, then down.:: oO Where did that come from? Oo

    Prosecutor: And on the day that ::sniff:: ahem, that this tragedy occurred, Mr. Livingston. Where were you?

    ::Ben reached to grab his hand. When had it begun shaking? He leaned in toward the small microphone before him.::

    Livingston: I was at home.

    Prosecutor: And your home is where?

    Livingston: Boston, Massachusetts.

    Prosecutor: So you were not with the defendant in New York City on that day.

    Livingston: No. But I did speak to him that morning.

    Prosecutor: But to be clear, you were not WITH him, Mr. Livingston?

    ::Bens mouth opened, but nothing came out.::

    Judge: I remind you that you are under oath to tell the truth.

    Livingston: ::beat:: No. I was not.

    ::Bens gaze wandered back to the seat in front of him. His brother held his head in his hands, fingers gripping his hair. Those big, brown eyes had always laughed. Now there was more anguish in them than amusement.::

    Prosecutor: And does the phrase Odyssey Station mean anything to you?

    ::He squinted, thinking.::

    Livingston: No no I dont think so.

    Prosecutor: I must insist that you be more exact, Mr. Livingston. Does that phrase mean anything to you?

    Livingston: ::beat:: No, it doesnt.

    Prosecutor: And the phrase biomatrix?

    Livingston: No, it doesnt, unless it was covered in passing in an engineering course.

    Prosecutor: Think, Mr. Livingston. Does it mean anything to you anything at all?

    Livingston: Its a largely experimental biomechanical device that simulates living tissue, although recently it has been made to produce effects bordering on, or meeting the definition of, sentience. They may be useful tools, but they should be considered very dangerous. I strongly advise shelving of the technology, destruction of public records that may lead to their creation, and classification of relevant information as Top Secret and Dangerous to the Public.

    Prosecutor: Are you a traveler, Mr. Livingston?

    Livingston: I dont see

    Judge: You will answer the question, Mr. Livingston!

    Livingston: Ive done a bit, but nothing particularly exotic. Euorpe, Mars, China once to Vulcan, on business.

    ::The prosecutor looked at the judge, who returned the glance, then turned back toward Ben.::

    Livingston: Why is this important to the case?

    Prosecutor: Have you ever engaged in extra-galactic travel?

    Livingston: oO Extra-galactic Oo Thats absurd!

    Prosecutor: Thank you, Mr. Livingston. You may step down.

    ::Ahead of him, the weeping, glaring crowd continued to scrutinize him as he walked back to his seat. A deep sigh escaped him as he once again retook the ancient, creaking wooden bench. His eyes closed.::

    ::Beneath him, the bench jostled from side to side, and there was noise all around him. Opening his eyes and looking around, he saw Kevin at the window looking at the space station that must by now have become visible. Theyd all made it, after all.::

    ----

    Lieutenant, J.G. Ben Livingston

    Assistant Chief Engineer

    Starbase 118 Ops

    PNPC Puncdor - New Beginnings

    in 2013

    Posted

    ((Bridge - USS Columbia))

    ::Perhaps someone is reading this and thinking that it is horrible for
    Puncdor to have lost the use of his Teth A gland. Actually I believe it
    would be best to call the gland what it is in the tongue of one
    civilization in a nearby galaxy that has from time to time had dealings
    with dragons. I believe I would be straying too far from my present
    concern were I to tell you how it was that this civilization came to know
    of the organ, much less what civilization I'm talking about. In any case
    they called it the igel.

    Now from a certain point of view it really is true that the loss of the
    igel gland was a tragedy for Puncdor. For example it is a coming of age
    among the older of Dragonkind to transition to adulthood and to dine on the
    Evastock and the Korbastik. But by wanting to remain young Puncdor shunned
    this transition, opting for one form of end over another -- and it really
    would have been an end to his childhood had he kept his igel and now, as he
    decided to give up the igel, it was an end to his ever becoming an adult
    dragon. I should like to say that had he returned home Puncdor probably
    would not have been shunned by his own kind. Perhaps he would have been
    seen as a minor, able to move from one place to the next in relative
    freedom. Dragons like their space and they roam far and wide, civilizing
    all manner of pockets of space.::

    ::But let's return to our present corner of this true story of how Puncdor
    came to be discovered. If anything could be said of Puncdor's igel its
    loss posed for him an excruciating pain that I can assure the reader lasted
    not more than an hour. For the igel is an organ rather akin to the
    appendix in a human being. It swells, makes quite a fuss, and in humans
    simply bursts and threatens to kill the organism. In dragons it doesn't
    quite burst but rather turns the organism into something much fiercer. But
    losing the igel is in no wise fatal.::

    ::Elaine LeBlanc was quite correct however when she summed up the loss of
    the igel thus:::

    LeBlanc: Uh well... I suppose it would be like being kicked in the
    testicles.

    Nevarass: I'd imagine that is putting it mildly.

    ::And it certainly was putting it mildly. As I have mentioned in a
    previous instalment of this history Puncdor was in a pain so profound that
    it felt akin to the end of dragonkind, rather than just to the end of the
    world as one individual in a different universe suggested the pain of being
    injured in the male gonads was like.::

    Nicholotti: Then let's see if there is both a permanent solution and something
    we can do to help him with that discomfort.

    Nevarass: Yes, sir. I think we should monitor Puncdor for now to ensure he
    remains stable. But what about the adults, out there?

    LeBlanc: Could Puncdor help?

    ::And indeed the "Maternal Figure" of Kali Nicholotti suggested that
    perhaps Puncdor could get the others to follow them back through the black
    hole to lead them home.::

    ::By now the pain was easing slightly, mostly on account of Puncdor's lying
    on his back and giving the hollow left in the wake of the igel a chance to
    rest.::

    Puncdor: Uh well... It would be easy to suggest that the food supply here
    is soon to run out. And not only that but civilization. The younglings
    won't have any civilization to protect. They'll be alone out here in this
    odd galaxy of yours.

    Nevarass: That’s a good notion. Of course, if that fails, maybe we could convince them to
    follow us. We are food, after all.

    Nicholotti: Alright, Ensign Nevarass, if you would work with Puncdor and
    Miss LeBlanc on finding a permanent solution.

    ::It was at this point, as she was looking with some amount of sympathy
    toward the permanently young dragon, that Elaine came upon an idea.::

    LeBlanc: Could we drop the force field?

    Nicholotti: Very well. Someone needs to stay with him, however.

    ::Shortly thereafter the maternal figure left Puncdor to his own devices,
    to think on what he would do with the rest of his life now that he had been
    granted this perhaps not eternal but rather prolonged youth. The first
    thing he decided he would do was to stand. Doing so was less painful than
    he had thought it would be. He moved his tail slightly and [...]ed his head
    this way and that. Decided that this should remain the extent of
    his callisthenics so as not to alarm the rest of the bipeds he walked
    rather than flew over to where the two science officers were.

    However, as is normally the custom with curious creatures like bipeds of
    the Milky Way Galaxy a new face came along wishing to speak with this new
    and wonderful discovery.

    Puncdor eyed the peculiar large-eared alien with great delight and
    curiosity. He had seen him a few times before when he'd been back inside
    his force field.::

    Brek: You are safe with us, Puncdor. As you must have realized, we are not
    a violent community. All those weapons you see around us are for our
    protection.

    Puncdor: Yes. Yes, the children of your species are also the adults,
    defending you.

    ::The alien scratched its arm for a moment and then said,::

    Brek: I can see you are curious about us, and if you want, there are many
    things you'll be able to learn about us: music, culture, games... But
    first, we need to ensure our safety. Can you ask the adults in your
    community to leave us alone? We can give them food, we can even treat their
    injuries. But for this to happen, we must be treated as equals.

    ::Puncdor tilted one side of his mouth in concern and uncertainty.::

    Puncdor: Well.. As I said earlier I can probably tell them that there is
    not much food out here, or civilization. I hope they will listen though...

    Brek: I understand. If nothing you say to your elders makes a difference,
    then we'll have to rely on our technology to continue to protect ourselves.
    You, on your side, will have to decide whether you want to stay with us, or
    would rather go back to your species.

    ::Puncdor was quickly realizing this, but I dare say that his decision was
    one which I cannot easily summarize for you yet.::

    TAGS
    TBC

    Kli'bits'querz''aa*em
    affably known as
    Puncdor The Dragon
    Now Permanently Juvenile Male Creature

    as narrated by
    The Narrator

    as simmed by
    Lt. Cmdr. Kevin Breeman
    Chief Engineer
    Starbase 118 and USS Columbia

    Lt.Cmdr. Kevin Breeman/Lt. JG. Johanna MacLaren JP: Healing Hands

    in 2013

    Posted

    ((Cargo Bay 4 - USS Columbia))

    ::Johanna MacLaren's fury at the dragon turned to terror as her back erupted in
    fire. Her cry of anger turned into a scream of agony. Then she had no more
    breath for the scream. She was drowning in her own blood as her chest seemed
    buried under an enormous weight. She was going to die; Breeman was going to die
    because she'd cared more for his hand than their safety. More fire ran down her
    back and then the pull of the transporter gave a momentary surcease to the pain.
    Fighting to breathe, struggling not to cry out, she tried to lift herself from
    Kevin's inert form. She looked down to see him covered in her blood, but she
    could not move. The strength had left her; her arm would not obey her and each
    breath was now a fight. The clinical portion of her brain cataloged her
    injuries. Massive blood loss, likely lung collapse, respiratory failure, likely
    muscular laceration. She'd sent her staff to the center of the ship. No doctor
    would arrive before she bled out. Twenty-six year old, Human/Betazoid female:
    death from massive trauma and blood loss. Tears of pain and fear streaked down
    her face. She would never see Joseph again. She was dying, and he might already
    be dead in the Jeffries tubes. Then hands were lifting her and red fire of pain
    gave way to the blackness of blissful oblivion.

    ::David Banks stepped through the doorway, his right index finger idly twitching
    by his side. Ever since the war he'd never been able to kick that habit. Over
    the years since as he'd trained to work as an excavation specialist at the
    Federation archaeological digs all over the galaxy people had never failed to
    notice the twitching finger as he'd walked. It happened most often as he
    thought about what to do next, how to handle this or that situation.::

    ::It had been the transporter alert and then the faint sounds of the frantic
    nursing staff trying to move a body that had triggered him. He'd not heard
    anything like that since the war. Entering the cargo bay he saw someone he
    recognized. A female medical officer. She was lying face down, two huge claws
    protruding from her back.::

    Banks: Christ....

    ::He looked around himself and saw a nurse looking about at the equipment.::

    Banks: You. Yeah, kid with the hair.

    Mengler: Me? Oo Jeez, I'm trying to find a doctor for Doc MacLaren! Who does
    this guy think he is?Oo

    Banks: You're with me.

    Mengler: Who are you? I'm need a doctor for Doc MacLaren...

    Banks: Listen to me, I know some officer has given you an order to stand here
    and watch stuff. My name's David Banks. Give that officer my name if you get
    in trouble. Until then you're coming with me.

    ::He picked up a medical tricorder from a table nearby and then walked over to
    the patient and said,::

    Banks: ::Whispering:: Perforated lung tissue. Tearing of the... rhomboids,
    back muscles, spinal muscles. Tearing of the right... ribs...

    ::The boy stood beside him waiting until Banks turned and grumbled,::

    Banks: Laser scalpel, suction, forceps.

    ::Dutifully the boy went and grabbed the required items.::

    Banks: What's your name kid?

    Mengler: Steve, I was trying to get a doctor for Doc MacLaren. Why didn't you
    say you were a doctor...

    Banks: Steve? Alright Steve, we're going to do a foreign object removal and
    reconstructive lung surgery here, sound good?

    Mengler:Oo Here! God, it's not like there's a choice.Oo Yeah, I'm a medic; I'll
    help anyway I can.

    ::The red tide returned and Johanna found herself on her side, cold, shivering,
    her arm numb and each breath a monumental effort. She prayed to pass out again
    to end this agony and then there was an unfamiliar face and a gruff voice close
    to her face.::

    ::David spoke softly to the woman,::

    Banks: Hi... I'm a doctor... There's nothing to worry about okay?

    MacLaren::she looked at him, shivering and her eyes luminous with the tears she
    was trying to supress. Gasping:: Yes...there...is...lung collapsed...blood
    loss...lots of...::She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

    ::Definitely a doctor. He got down on his hands and knees and said,::

    Banks: Medical kit. Osteoregenerator.

    Mengler:: still rattled by MacLaren's condition and the idea of turning her over
    to a stranger.:: Say again?

    Banks: See that uh... ::He indicated over toward the piping coming out from
    the air filtration pump nearby.:: Pump?

    Mengler: Aye, sir. We have one.

    Banks: Pull it out and bring it here, will ya?

    Mengler: You're going to do major surgery right here this minute? It's not
    sterile! Are you serious?

    Banks: [...] right I'm serious.

    MacLaren:Ye're... a doctor...? Eh dinna ….want to...die...like this...

    ::David nodded and breathed quietly to himself, contemplating what he'd say.::

    Banks: You won't die.

    ::As Mengler handed him the pump he pulled at the back of the casing until it
    came loose. Retrieving a pocket knife from his breast pocket he adjusted the
    power and then turned on the pump. It gently ran at just the right rate.::

    ::Setting the machine down beside him he said,::

    Banks: It sounds like you're a highlander. That about right?

    MacLaren:: gasping:: Eh'm a Lowlander...on my...dad's side...Scots are...
    all...fighters though.

    ::Grinning, he spoke, trying to muster his best cheerful sounding voice and
    said,::

    Banks: Aayyyeee thought so.

    ::Turning to Steve he said,::

    Banks: Now Steve, I want you to hold this machine right here okay? If you do
    what I tell you everything will be fine, okay?

    Mengler:: Looking at MacLaren's deadly pallor, he wasn't so sure:: Sure, of
    course. You're going to be fine, Doc.

    ::As the boy held up the machine David sterilized the end of the nozzle with the
    medkit sterilizer. Setting the nozzle down he looked through the medical kit
    for an anaesthetic. Finding a local he attached it to the hypospray and pressed
    it gently into MacLaren's back.::

    MacLaren:Is it...as bad...as...it feels? Laird God, it hurts.

    Banks: You're doing great. ::As he fired the hypospray he asked,:: What's
    your name?

    MacLaren::still struggling to breathe:: Johanna...MacLaren...Eh'm the...CMO. Eh
    dinna ken...who..you..are

    Banks: Yeah? ::Turning to Steve:: Turn it on please.

    Mengler: Done

    ::He slowly ran the nozzle over the open wound as he gently pulled at the
    claw.::

    Banks: I'm David. David Banks.

    MacLaren:: her hands suddenly clenching:: Oh God, what is that?

    ::He knew it would be stupid to try and distill it down. She was a doctor and
    he owed it to her to tell her exactly what he was doing.::

    Banks: Suction.

    MacLaren:: shivering and beginning to ramble:: So cold.. is it snowing?...Joseph
    can ice skate...Where is Joseph?

    ::Christ, she was going into shock. And yet the bleeding had stabilized, and
    the lung was about ready to be repaired. He knew it was now or never and so he
    decided now.::

    Banks: Everybody's fine, Johanna.

    MacLaren: Hope, is Hope...safe? Kevin! Must help him..

    ::He didn't know who either of those two were. So he did his best to improvise.
    There were some things he knew he could be honest with her about. This wasn't
    one of them. She had to know that she could lose consciousness without owing
    the world around her anything, and that he'd take care of her while she was
    out.::

    Banks. Listen. It's time to start now okay. You're going to be just fine.
    Don't worry about those two. I will take care of them, okay?

    ::He set the general anesthetic hypospray cartridge and placed it against the
    woman's neck, his right hand now beginning to apply the haemosponge to the open
    wound.::

    Banks: That's it... We're both going to get through this.

    ::He set to work. Now he carried both people by himself.::

    ((Dreamscape))

    ::The pain was gone; the fear had fled. Snowflakes danced around Johanna and
    looking down at herself, she was delighted to see iceskates on her feet and
    Joseph laughing a few feet away, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. He glided over
    and took her hand so they could skate together on the frozen loch just in front
    of her childhood home in Aberfoyle. Their breath made little puffs in the frigid
    air but hey were warm from the exertion of skating. For once there was no
    misunderstanding between them, no misinterpretations. They were simply a young
    couple in love, spinning and laughing. They moved into a spin and then his lips
    were warm on hers, still tasting faintly of the hot chocolate they'd shared a
    few moments before. She did another little spin, but when she turned back, he
    was far away on the ice looking at her with a face stricken with grief; Hope
    stood forlornly beside him. An older man she did not know stood with them. She
    tried to skate back, but the faster she skated, the further away they seemed
    until finally she was alone on the ice.

    Lt.JG Johanna MacLaren
    CMO
    SB118/USS Victory and Columbia

    and

    David Banks,
    simmed by
    Lt. Commander Kevin Breeman
    CEO
    SB 118/USS Victory/Columbia

    Lt JG Livingston - Time for Some Thrilling Heroics

    in 2013

    Posted

    ((Main Engineering, USS Columbia))

    Breeman: What do you make of this data Ben?

    ::Ben glanced over at the console. Stresses were growing all over hull, that much was clear. But rather than the typical rainbow of colors indicating wide regions of stresses, it was a chicken-pocked ship; flaring red indicators each only a few meters wide were popping up in fields of low stress areas – each an indicator of another attack incoming. ::

    Livingston: Looks like this has only just begun. Can we seal off any of these compartments?

    ::But before they could talk further, Ben pointed out another hull breach. Looking at the data from the hull breach it looked like it was still quite small -- not large enough for a dragon to make it

    through.::

    Breeman: I'm compensating!

    ::He tapped a command and a magnetic arc fired across the hull.::

    Breeman: Hopefully that will make it think twice about coming in...

    Livingston: Hope is good, but I’d rather hope and a plan. We need more data!

    ((Flashback))

    Livingston: =/\= Thought you might want to know, they captured one of these things. You might want to take a look. I know I do. =/\=

    Nevarass: =/\= I certainly do. Is the dragon secured?

    ::That was an excellent question. Knowing next to nothing about the things, not understanding their strength or abilities or intelligence, how was it that he could tell the ensign that it was secured? Was it not just as likely that the dragons had the crew “secured”?::

    Livingston: =/\= Uh – officially no. Proceed at your own risk. And bring security. =/\=

    :: As she listened to Livingston’s response, Allie glanced at B’Sara.

    She didn't want B'Sara to worry, so she mustered a small smile. ::

    Nevarass: =/\= I see. Well, I’m headed to the Bridge, now. Maybe we can figure out a way to tell our dragon visitors to stop attacking us, if they’re sentient. Unless we can find a way to communicate, we might have to face the possibility of destroying them all.

    Livingston: ::raising eyebrows:: =/\= I’m not sure destroying them is a possibility. ::pause:: But communication would be the best way to stem any slaughter.=/\=

    Nevarass: =/\= Agreed. That would be most unfortunate. For all we know, these may be the last of dragon-kind in the universe. Has anyone tried to communicate with them telepathically? Such a method would make sense, evolutionarily speaking.

    ::That kernel of xenophobia that lived inside everyone as a defensive mechanism had apparently been at work in Ben. He hadn’t much considered the prospect of them communicating, let alone a capability to communicate with other species. And yet, the ensign’s open-mindedness had led her to a conclusion that was quite probable.::

    Livingston: =/\= Because they live in a vacuum? Very insightful! I suppose that would be a likely solution. Well – let’s get to it then.

    Best of luck.=/\=

    Nevarass: =/\= Right, sir. Almost to the Bridge. Nevarass out.

    ((End Flashback))

    ::It wasn’t long after that another hull breach turned up, taking Ben’s attention as he monitored it. He nearly dispatched an engineering team before remembering the futility – and the danger – of doing so. Instead, he sealed off what he could. Anything that slowed these creatures down would help them have a better solution in place when it was finally time.::

    ::Ben was about to report another breach when the ceiling nearly came crashing down around him. Steam, conduit, and shrieking jaws exploded down into the room just meters away, knocking him (thank goodness) to the ground.::

    :: And then he watched Kevin Breeman, the ship’s nurturer and protector, charge towards it with terror and fury in his eyes.::

    Breeman: Kill it!!

    ::Shocked, Ben looked around. He had no phaser; even if he had, was killing it a possibility?::

    Livingston: We need a plan!

    ::Kevin’s weapon fire only enraged it, but still the engineer persisted in engaging it in combat, a modern day St. George defending his people. The beast showed no pity, no reservations – it sought only to consume as it was itself consumed by hatred::

    ::But Kevin would be destroyed by this, if Ben stayed put, sheltered by a console that was now half separated from the floor plating, exposing cables that had begun to arc intermittently. And yet that hazard seemed much preferable to the one involving dragon slaying. And yet … He raised his eyebrows in surprise.::

    Livingston: It’s okay – I have a plan!

    ::Lifting himself from the floor, Ben dashed around the corner and into full view of the beast. It had moved from its original point of entry, but it would still be close. Ahead of him, Kevin had its full attention, allowing Ben to jump up and grab one of the cables still swaying as it hung from the cavity above. He held onto it as it swung him along the wing-crested back of the animal. From this vantage point, he hoped to find some point of weakness, but he was moving too quickly. Near the end of its stroke, the human pendulum let go and threw himself over the upper deck rail.::

    ::Sitting there was precisely what he had hoped to find – a EPS tap cable. Plugging it into the system, he rushed back toward the creature and using the rail as a jumping off point, leapt onto the thing’s back, holding the cable as a dagger to pierce through its armored

    skin.::

    ::Ben could not tell at first if it had made a difference, but soon the wings convulsed and it tried to throw him off. As it tried to reach him, Ben saw Kevin regaining his footing and take a defensive stance, but not once did the Chief Engineer cease his attack.::

    Orman: FIRE!!

    :: Katy’s voice filled the air, a tremendous relief. But when it dawned on him that he might be caught in the line of fire should it turn and expose him, Ben leapt back to the floor, still holding the cable but no longer within striking distance.::

    ::He dragged it along the floor as he fought to rejoin the security team, dodging wingtips and claws as he moved. He reached Katy first.::

    Livingston: ::shouting:: Nice of you to stop by!

    Orman: ::shouting as well, to be heard over the phasers and shrieking:: Report!

    Livingston: Breeman’s been at it for nearly a minute. I hoped EPS would do the job, but I think it’s just angrier now. Have you had luck elsewhere?

    Orman: ::still shouting as she tracked her target and attempted to put a bolt into it:: Killed one. Takes a lot. Would love to chat, but kind of busy! Kevin's bleeding, call Medical!

    -----

    Lieutenant, J.G. Ben Livingston

    Assistant Chief Engineer

    Starbase 118 Ops / USS Victory (Columbia)

    Patri Jia Kom - Left

    in 2013

    Posted

    ((Breeman Residence - Earth))

    ::Patri was gone. Jan sat at the edge of the young woman's bed and
    wondered. Why had she been out so late like that the other night? Why had
    she said Kevin would be alright with such odd certainty?::

    ::The clock had just struck seven AM and Alvin was already outside, pacing
    the deck wondering what to do next. Had she run away? She hadn't seemed
    terribly angry with her. Why would she break the law like that when she'd
    been proving herself now to be such an upstanding citizen?::

    ((Dreamscape - Patri's Mind))

    ::She's outside the house again, the dark figure looming in the distance
    down the straight snowy path. The moon overhead looks at her surprised to
    see her out like this. As she approaches the man and finds only a long
    tree trunk where she'd previously met Kevin the other night she shivers.
    Beneath her feet the snow crunches softly as she walks through the
    otherwise silent night.::

    ::Looking down she lets her mind drift through the sparkling stars in the
    snow as the ice crystals pick up the moonlight. If she moves her head or
    her body just right some of the stars come on and others turn off. Swaying
    slowly to let one particular star switch on and off she barely notices the
    mountains forming in her patch of milky white space on the ground. Soon
    they have mountain tops that shine brilliantly. And then shadows, as the
    light shines on her. She looks up. There's a doorway standing in front of
    her.::

    ::Blinking she wonders if she's ended up in front of someone's house.
    Suddenly self conscious she prepares her best explanation. I'm sorry sir,
    I was just out for a midnight stroll. I didn't mean to walk onto your
    property.::

    ::No one's there. It's just a door in the snow, in front of a pair of
    trees. She steps forward.::

    ((Breeman Residence - Earth))

    Alvin: Did you hear anything last night?

    Jan: No...

    ::She sighed.::

    Alvin: She was doing so well. And now this!??

    Jan: You don't know that she ran away.

    Alvin: What else could this be?

    ::She looked at him, trying to calm him down. Should she tell him about
    the incident the other night? Should she tell him she was starting to see
    aspects of Kevin in her?::

    Alvin: What? What is it?

    Jan: ::Quietly:: I saw her outside the other night night.

    ((Dreamscape - Patri's Mind))

    ::Patri recognizes Jan speaking softly with Alvin in her room. In Kevin's
    room. The whole thing seems so real. She runs a finger along the spine of
    a book and she lets it gently slide and then fall over on his bookshelf.
    Jan's upset. Alvin's angry. Disappointed. Did she read that on his face
    right?::

    ::She walks a little closer to the point her nose is almost between the
    husband and wife as they speak.::

    Alvin: So you think she left last night?

    ::Sighing, Jan says,::

    Jan: I don't know. I wasn't sure how to tell you about this but... Well
    there it is.

    ::Patri blinks, lays a hand down on Jan's shoulder.::

    Jan: I wish she'd stop tugging at me like that.

    ::Her voice is muffled, strange.::

    Alvin: It's never fair when she does that.

    ::She pats her hand atop Alvin's head, as the room fades from view into the
    darkness that's always been there.::

    Alvin: Come on..... ::The voice fades.::

    ((Breeman Residence - Earth))

    Alvin: So you think she left last night?

    Jan: I don't know. I didn't think it was if she went for the occasional
    walk. Kevin did it and I got used to it.

    ::Sighing, Alvin said,::

    Alvin: Then we're just going to have to call the police. I'm sorry, but
    she's technically violating the terms of her release.

    ::Jan nodded and said,::

    Jan: I know..

    ::Behind them the room was silent, save for the sound of something small
    slipping on one of Kevin's old bookshelves.::

    ((Patri's Perspective))

    ::She's sitting in a wing chair now, her head resting on the cushions. How
    long was she asleep? In front of her is another chair, along with a sofa.
    Standing she approaches the door. Turning the handle she steps out into a
    street made of shining brass. Beneath her feet several clear papers drift
    by, carried by wind from the sun that hangs directly above.

    The door behind her closes and a building that casts no shadow stands above
    her, two lonely windows separated by a gulf of decaying wall peering dimly
    out into the city street.::

    ::She turns to her left and gasps. There's no horizon. The street rolls
    up toward her. She turns to run to escape it only to be confronted with
    the very same landscape that threatens to envelop her on the other side.
    Nothing is flat. She's perpetually falling forward. No. She's standing
    straight up while the ground rushes to catch her but never succeeds.::

    Patri: What the hell?

    ::She looks down at her feet picks up a sheet of clear paper and tries to
    read the writing that flickers on and off. The gentle breeze tosses her
    long brown hair that catches the light of the sun in the center of her
    sphere.::

    Patri Jia Kom
    Former Computer Hacker

    As simmed by

    Lt. Cmdr. Kevin Breeman
    Chief Engineer
    Starbase 118

    How can we improve this contest for 2013?

    in 2013

    Posted

    I have a problem with creating another committee...there are a lot of teams we have now that don't have enough members or high enough levels of participation as it is. Creating something else that requires a group of people is only asking for other things to be put by the wayside. I'd much rather keep this the way it is, with the runoff rounds like we had this year, and see officers participating in the Publicity team, podcast team, training team, or the new Social Media team (or any of the other teams), all of which are going to help the fleet expand and grow.

    To reiterate what was said before, if it's not broken...why try fix it? Let's not cut off our nose to spite our faces...

    I realize more participation in the voting would be nice, so maybe we can work on publicizing the voting periods or something like that instead of tying up more resources in another committee?

    And that is just my thoughts. =) Not saying the committee wouldn't work or is a bad idea, but I just don't think we have the resources in people and availability to swing that as it stands...

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