Kalianna Nicholotti

((OOC What you reading here is the correspondence between Zenno and his new frenemy T'Lyra from DS 33 that I set up in a previous sim and his Academy friend, Saava. Essentially these are emails. But to make it easier to read, the order is reversed. The oldest message is on top and it proceeds in time towards the bottom. This kind of solo writing thing is not going to be a habit. )) ((OOC You can assume that Zenno is sharing the technical results of the scanner stuff with anyone who has an interest so if you want to use any of that in your sims, feel free. Zenno would NOT say much about the Romulan influenced design yet to anyone other than Serinus and T'Lyra, as he thinks he has insufficient evidence to make that case yet. If anyone would like to participate in the work, feel free to write it up and tag him.)) ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow My friend, I hope you settling in well on the White Pine. I have had quite the experience here on the Arrow. Too much insanity to even describe. But it all came out well in the end. You'll be pleased to know that I have kept up with your combat training lessons. I have been working on the next level in the discipline. It's exhilarating and fun. I sincerely hope to never need to use any of it in a live circumstance. I did have a chance to do a demonstration when I was on Deneva though. Be glad (If you could be glad, I know, I know) you did not have that school assignment. I was thinking kindly of you (as I always do) during my last mission, as I was working with a Vulcan and our many past interactions were instructive in my work with her. It helped me enormously. So I thank you. You need not worry though. (I know you would worry but never admit to it. Save your protestations.) I did not tell her about that time we logically decided to evade curfew and attend that music show. I know that disclosure would shame your family, etc... (I am rolling my eyes human style right here.) So I shall keep that in reserve for a suitable blackmail experience in the future. The ship's crew is quite interesting. I've enjoyed all of the interactions I have had. But you can counsel me (again!) on eating the wrong thing at the wrong time, for the 15,000th time. (I am sure in your Vulcan head you have the exact number.) Right before I met my new Captain, I ate some human food that didn't agree and it made for an abbreviated meeting. I should have learned by now to keep your wise counsel. I still regret that we did not get the same assignment, as I think us being in the fleet together would have been great. Team "Blue Point" would have been unstoppable. Just like we were in Parrises Squares together. Please do let me know how you are settling in and if you have had any fun missions thus far. Or as you would say "Satisfactorily concluded missions with beneficial outcomes." I have had 4 years of practice deciphering your Vulcan ways, my friend. You can't fool me. Your Best Bolian Friend, Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow I am pleased that we are working together on this analysis of the Tri-Phasic devices. Enclosed you will find several baseline comparisons I have made between our subject and several related but more primitive devices I was able to discover in our data banks. I would not share this publicly, but I do suspect a Romulan design in this technology. I have noted several similarities between the node structures and the peculiar collimator construction. Do you concur? On a personal note, I hope you are fully recovered from the experience in the Freighter. There is no reason to rush to the analysis, if you are still on light duty. Taking some time for restoration would be the logical thing to do, after all. Kindest Regards, Ens Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Your concern has been noted. The speed of my analysis is unhindered by my experiences on the ship. However, I will make allowances since you are likely unaccustomed to the high speed and pinpoint accuracy of our Security team, due to your situation. oO My situation? Is she serious with this? I can't tell. Is she still "Vulcan Mad" at me for questioning her logic when we were on the freighter? Oo It is well that you had discovered the Romulan design cues. I had already seen them but I thought best to leave them unmentioned as a learning moment for you. oO She is most certainly having a go. Very well, I shall respond. Prepare to accept a barrage, Vulcan Lady. Oo I will share the results of our deep level scans as soon as practicable. With Respects, Lt T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow What a pleasant sound it is when the computer tells me I have a message from you! I am so happy that you are finding your place on the White Pine. And thank you for updating me on the exact number of times you have advised me on my dietary choices. I did make sure to put in for leave for the Parrises Squares Grand Championships on Argelius II. I hope we both get to go. I know you cannot admit it, but I know you miss me. I'm going to see if I can find a time we are both off-duty at the same time for a call. I had mentioned that I am working with another Vulcan officer on a project? Things are not going well, and I am sorely in need of your opinion. Plus I am sorely in need of beating you in another late night Kal-Toh session. (You need not remind me that you are in the lead, but not by much. I do remember these things!) Your friend, Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Colleague T'Lyra Thank you for your thoughtful analysis and reports. I have annotated several areas that could use a level 3 scan with a molecular analyzer. Also, enclosed are my notes on the logs of the live scans I was able to conduct when the device was operational. I made sure the report text was as dry and soulless as a desert landscape, since I assume that would be your preference. oO Now I'm starting to sound like Nardello. It's like we are both little clones of him, fighting each other. Oo I appreciate the pinpoint accuracy of the DS 33 Security team. I hope everyone is well after getting completely taken over by amateur mercenaries and placing the whole sector at risk. We could assist in bringing more counseling teams to the station, if needed. I would be pleased to speak to our Captain on your behalf if this would be salutary. Please do let us know. With Kindest Regards, Ens Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Receiving your last transmission was agreeable. The live scan notes are helpful in determining the proper power settings that they had used in the operation of the devices. oO ... Is T'Lyra enjoying this? In her weird Vulcan way? These people are a mystery, truly. I think Saava may be the only Vulcan whom I can get along with. Oo Attached you will find the requested molecular scans. I've taken the liberty of removing any obscure words with more than three syllables from the report. I understand your species is from a water planet and there was no need to flood you with complicated language. oO Bless the waters! I can't believe I just read that. That sounds like Nardello. Oo If the Arrow should be able to make its way to DS 33 again, you would be welcome to enjoy our physical combat regimen that I run with the Security Team. Repeated defeat can be fruitful and instructive. oO It is on, as the humans say. Oo Very Respectfully, Lt T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Esteemed Colleague T'Lyra I have studied the molecular scans you have provided. The data was extremely useful. I have been able to experiment in replicating some of the processor elements. I am attaching some of the saved replicator designs I have made. Additional work is needed in this area if we are to attempt a prototype and I think we can do even more together. I am gratified at the success we have achieved thus far. I hope you would agree that this collaboration is proceeding well. As for your invitation to engage in your combat routine, I would happily accept the next time the ship is forced to visit DS 33. I look forward to providing you with extremely close up details of the training room deck. I would be pleased to assist in this. oO Why am I being like this? Why is she bringing this out? She's got a lot of our old Chief's attitude in her, I think. Or maybe she was just as scarred as me, but in her Vulcan way? I need to talk to Saava and get her opinion. Oo Most Respectfully, Ens Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Our collaboration has been most satisfactory and stimulating. I have further refined the designs you have provided. There were numerous errors I had corrected on your behalf in the coding. But it was a valiant effort. oO Is this Vulcan for "good try?" I will practice deep breathing before replying, otherwise, it may go poorly. Remember what Saava said. Oo If we can complete the replication and produce a working device, it would be most beneficial for our careers. It would be appropriate for you to have secondary credit, given your minor assistance on the project. If you attempt to run the designs in the replicator, be sure to inform your Engineering team first, as your ship's replicators likely don't have the required resolution for some of the more delicate components. oO I will never speak of this bit to my crew mates. I suspect it would cause animosity. What a strange collaboration this is turning out to be. I like it and hate it at the same time. Oo Very Respectfully, T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Honored Colleague T'Lyra I too, have found this collaboration useful and instructive. I am delighted when I see a message from you stating that you have made further advances in the work. Some very small portions of your contributions were relevant in the larger project and I look forward to aggressively adjudicating the quantity of them with you when the project is completed. But I must point out that credit is a topic best left for after completion when we can completely analyze our respective contributions. To engage in such now would be a logic error. oO TAKE THAT! DIRECT HIT! Oo I have analyzed your corrections and they were unnecessary. I have commented them as "dunsel" in the code base. You'll see that my code incorporated some of the design flaws in the original subject. These are necessary so that the live power scans we took would match. With Kind Felicitations, Ens Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Hello Apologies for the double message. But I am reflecting on this entire chain of communication. We both studied under Nardello on Deneva, and I suspect that we are still under the influence of not only his courses, but his regrettable approach to interpersonal relations. Are you willing to discuss? Kind Regards, Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Your last communication was well-received. I have been meditating on our collaboration and it is only logical to assume that perhaps our respective experiences in the Security School in Deneva have had some long-term effects on us both. Some of those effects may not be advantageous. Logic, tempered with wisdom, is the way forward. This is a lesson that I have heard often but have not yet fully incorporated. I would be open to exploring our mutual experiences on Deneva and discovering how to take what is best from that place and leave behind what is not. I have not encountered anyone else in our role who was so similarly affected. I await your reply. T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Friend Saava, Your advice has been wise and useful, as always. Many thanks for your insights. It has made me rethink my approach. Have you heard from Vratak and Grall at all? I am certain they are up to no good on Starbase 88. We should plan an alumni meeting. I nominate you to arrange this. It is only logical, after all. (You may act on your unstated annoyance with me when we meet on Argelius!) Signed, One half of Team Point Blue (The obviously better half) Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow T'Lyra, Many apologies for the delay in responding. I too, had to consider and meditate on our correspondence. We are working well together on the technical elements of this project and it is my sincere hope that we continue to do so. I am enclosing some further scans that I have conducted, as well as some refinements to the replicator design code. I have been in contact with some of my classmates from Deneva who also have much to process about the experience. We are going to have a series of facilitated discussions over subspace to talk about it. You would be most welcome to attend also and to participate to whatever degree you believe appropriate. I think there is much to be done here. I am attaching the schedule and the codes to attend. It would be delightful to see you there. Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow Saava, I would be nowhere without your friendship. I think things are turning around here in my project and your steady advice has been key. However, if you think that this will make me go easy on you in our next game, you would be mistaken. Please be safe and careful on your missions. Not because I care about you, but only because I remember that you still owe me fifty credits and I wish to be repaid. Tis' only logical, no silly emotions involved. Your friend, even at a great distance, Zenno ----------------------------------- TO: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow FROM: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 Zenno, If there are no conflicts with my duty schedule, I will attend. I still expect you will attend my combat sessions when you are in the area. T'Lyra ----------------------------------- TO: Lt (jg) T'Lyra, DS 33 FROM: Ens Zenno, USS Arrow T'Lyra, I eagerly anticipate the experience. Zenno END/NT Ensign Zenno Security Officer USS Arrow A240006Z13

DATES: The class began on 2023-07-17 and ended 2023-07-24 LIST: sb118-Academy1 COMMANDING OFFICER: Commander @Wil Ukinix FIRST OFFICER: Lt. Commander @Addison MacKenzie GRADUATES: @Lhandon_Nilsen Welcome to the fleet – we're so glad you're here!

Welp, Ash knows who NOT to tell secrets to.

Here's Ash, in true Ash form, save for all the people. Also, it has pockets...

((Risian Sundown Resort, above Stardust City)) It had taken longer than he had ever expected it to take. Still, after several calls with employees of the Slipka Resort Consortium, he had finally managed to book a bigger room for Ayemet and him to stay in together as part of their provided all-expense stay at the Risian Sundown Resort. He had talked to several people on Risa to secure a proper room on Freecloud - what an odyssey. ((Flashback)) Connor had looked up the commlink they were about to contact for their reservation at the Risian Sundown Resort for the all-expenses covered weekend. As he opened the communications line, a popup appeared on his screen. Please enter your customer number... On a second window Connor opened the confirmation message they had gotten to check for the asked information. But none had been supplied. He frowned as he skipped through the text a second time. Nothing... With a quiet sigh, he just confirmed the empty input field. The next text prompt on his screen did not improve his mood significantly. You are 33rd in the queue. He leaned back and let himself fall into the cushions. Reconfiguring the EPS grid in sickbay had exhausted him over the day. He had taken off three days to enjoy them at the Risian resort with Ayemet. And the only thing he wanted to do before falling into bed was to rearrange their bookings to combine them for a better room for two people. You are 29th in the queue. Another sigh as he let his head fall back into the cushions and thought of his last time visiting a resort like this. It had been on earth, a resort on the coast of the Mediterranean sea. It had not been as luxurious as the Sundown Resort promised to be. But he remembered how relaxed he had gotten while being there. And he looked forward to that. You are 27th in the queue. His mind started to wander off as he imagined what their time together could be like. A white-sanded beach appeared before his inner eyes; the surge of waves surrounded his feet. He felt his eyes closing slowly... Support Agent: Slipka Resort Consortium, my name is Taya. How may I assist you? Connor woke with a start and took a second to orient himself. Seconds ago, he had been at a sunny beach. The darkness of his quarters engulfed him as the attractive support agent appeared on his screen. Dewitt: I... Yes... I want to rebook a room... Two rooms. Support Agent: Why certainly, Sir! May I have your customer number, please. Dewitt: I am afraid I have not been provided one. Support Agent: Of course, Sir. In that case, may I have your name, please? Dewitt: It's Connor Dewitt. Support Agent: Thank you, Mr. Dewitt. Let me check our system for available rooms. ::typing on the keyboard:: Ah, it seems we still have rooms available for the dates you requested. Perfect! Dewitt: Great! So, how do I proceed with the rebooking? Support Agent: I'm glad you asked, Mr. Dewitt. I will transfer you to our dedicated rebooking department, where they will guide you through the process. Please hold the line. The logo of Slipka Resort Consortium appeared on the screen. A small sun in the lower left with a bis smile was dancing on the beach. Another time to frown. Together with Nolen and two other crewmen, they had updated the full sickbay EPS grid in only a single day. He felt played out but satisfied with their progress. And after such an achievement, he was stuck in an ordinary customer service line. Support Agent #2: Hello, this is Grace speaking from the rebooking department. How can I assist you today? Dewitt: Hi, Grace. I need to rebook two rooms at Sundown Resort for a different date. Support Agent #2: Certainly, Mr. Dewitt. Before we proceed, may I kindly ask for your customer number? Dewitt: I already mentioned to the previous agent that I don't have one. Support Agent #2: My apologies, Mr. Dewitt. Let me see if I can find your original reservation using your name. Please hold while I check our system. Dewitt: Of cou... But before Connor could finish his approval, the Slipka Ressort Consortium logo appeared again. He felt an uncomfortable rage at the situation rise and got up. He took the terminal he was using to move it over to the small dining table in his quarters and tried to breath calmly. The clock on the wall showed the local ship time. 03:21. They had worked after hours to get things done and make sickbay ready again as fast as they could. And his next shift was about to start in 5 hours. Support Agent #2: Thank you for your patience, Mr. Dewitt. I'm afraid I couldn't locate your original reservation. However, I can transfer you to our reservations department, and they should be able to assist you further. Please hold. Dewitt: Wait, another transfer? Can't you help me here? Support Agent #2: I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Dewitt. The reservations department has the expertise required to handle these matters. I assure you, they will be able to assist you. Connor hated the little sun. Why would a sun dance on the beach? He started to walk around the table to stay awake. He started to count the laps to distract his mind from the situation that seemed infuriating to his sleep-deprived mind. Dewitt: ::mumbling:: look forward to that weekend, Connor! Support Agent #3: Hello, this is Payo from the reservations department. How can I help you today? Dewitt: Finally, Payo! I've been transferred twice already. My name is Connor Dewitt, and I just want to rebook two rooms at Sundown Resort. Support Agent #3: I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Dewitt. I'm here to assist you. Can you please provide me with your customer number? Connor took a deep breath to stay calm. Dewitt: I don't have one! I've already mentioned that to the previous agents. Support Agent #3: My apologies, Mr. Dewitt. Let me check if I can locate your original reservation using your name. Please bear with me for a moment. ::typing something:: Ah, yes... Here it is. Your reservation is under the number SR-1244421-2331-23. Dewitt: Finally, I'd like to change that reservation to a bigger room for two people. Support Agent #3: Of course, Mr. Dewitt. Let me transfer you to our rebooking department. The sun... again. Connor went over to the replicator. Dewitt: Vulcan Highland Reserve, on the rocks. Make it a double. The replicator played a confirming noise as another support agent appeared on the screen... ((End Flashback)) But now they were here. With a small overnight bag over his left shoulder and Ayemet's hand in his right hand, he went for the reception desk in an entrance hall that was lush and abundant in size and decoration. The sun was filling the big hall, and all kinds of employees were going their ways. Dewitt: I am not even sure if I've ever been in a room this... luxurious... Jacin: Response As they approached the reception, a tall woman smiled warmly. Connor put a PADD on the wooden desk. Dewitt: We've booked one of your suites for two nights. Receptionist: ::Taking the PADD, looking into computer:: Ah, yes, the Dewitts! Dewitt: I... We... ::looking to Ayemet:: Jacin: Response The receptionist handed them small keycards and smiled warmly. Receptionist: We have you in Room 410, one of our honeymoon suites with beach views. All your expenses are covered. Enjoy your stay! Connor took the two keycards and felt like a little boy as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks when he heard the word honeymoon. As he turned around, he felt Ayemet at his side again. Dewitt: So the Dewitts now... In the honeymoon suite... Did I miss something? Jacin: Response TAG/TBC -- Lt. Connor Dewitt Engineer USS Arrow A239901CD3

((Interior, Main Engineering, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) Despite the recent progress he made with Lieutenant Commander R'Ariel, and even before Lieutenant Dewitt shared the good news about their long-hoped EPS overhaul, Ensign Nolen Hobart planned to avoid the “fun.” He knew that, as wave after wave of Arrow crew beamed down to “Space Vegas,” as some of the humans had taken to calling it, the ship would grow ever more still. The buzz of excitement had been building steadily since they set toward Deep Space 33, known ahead of time to be but a waypoint for bolder and brighter destinations, but it hadn’t grown in Nolen. As impressionable as his own mind could be by the press of others’ feelings upon him, his own, personally-cultivated dread at what he might sense even from orbit served as a robust levy against the rising tide. As high as the crests of anticipation seemed to be reaching, Ensign Hobart knew that down on Freecloud itself, if the lights wouldn’t blind him and the sounds wouldn’t deafen him, he would find himself struggling to keep his head above water. But there, as he made preparations for the upcoming overhaul, amidst the emotional buzz of the crew, an entirely different kind of buzz caught Nolen's attention. The power feed along the wall to the subspace transceiver was vibrating. Hobart: ::curiosity:: Huh. Vibrating equipment was generally not a great sign. Some equipment was meant to vibrate, but usually not for very long, and not without some kind of readout about what it was doing. Some equipment vibrated because some of its moving parts had come loose or required lubrication. But a power feed had no moving parts. Or, it wasn't supposed to. Nolen ran a system diagnostic. While he waited, he looked around the compartment. Empty again. He could get used to this, so long as the work was interesting. Connor had been there not that long ago, but he’d run off to Shuttlebay 1 to meet Ensign Slipka. Gripping the loop of a ceramic mug—a family gift, painted on its exterior a dubious declaration of Nolen's rank among and above the galaxy’s engineers—he brought it up under his nose, and gave the contents a long, satisfying sniff. The computer gave him a cheerful chirp and Nolen took a sip of his coffee. The results of the diagnostic were unsatisfying. No significant power fluctuations. No indication of any interruptions or irregularities at all. The computer thought this was great news. Nolen knew it was not. Hobart: ::concern:: Huh. He tried to recall who was on the bridge for this shift. Connor had mentioned who, but Nolen was too busy looking forward to the EPS overhaul that had finally been approved—and on a ship that had emptied its personnel, no less!—to pay that much attention to minor details like names and command structure. He tapped his combadge, expecting to open a channel to the Bridge and… whomever was there. He was surprised, not by the identity of the Officer of the Deck, but by the fact that his combadge started talking at him. Gott (recorded): =/\= …problems? Gott stuck? Have no fear, ‘cause I've Gott you! For a limited— =/\= Ensign Hobart had never before slapped his hand against his combadge with such determination or force. He ran a hand through his soft, wavy brown hair and grabbed a fistful. A sharp tug confirmed that he was not, in fact, in the midst of a nightmare. He gave it two more sharp tugs, just in case, before returning his attention to the console. ((Timeskip, Interior, Shuttlebay 2)) As the doors to the shuttlebay swished apart for him, Nolen threw up a hand to shield his eyes. The lights of the Billable Hours were blinding, and the noise—was that music, or sehlats mating?—was deafening. Nolen had found his own little chunk of Freecloud, already, right here on the Arrow. He wasn’t pleased. Hobart: ::yelling:: Computer, shut down all external device interfaces in Shuttlebay 2! If the Computer chirped its acquiescence in response, Nolen couldn’t hear it. But as the Billable Hours was cut off from the ship’s power feed, the lights dimmed and the noise faded to a tolerable whisper. It was then that Nolen got a good look at what exactly was going on in the shuttlebay, and shifted from “not” pleased to “dis-.” Hobart: ::mild horror, to self:: That is ten pounds of ship in a five pound bay… It was enormous. The sight of it inside the shuttlebay was nearly incomprehensible, and Nolen imagined that even the thought of it would have driven the engineers at the Starfleet Design Bureau babbling mad. He could make out three decks underneath a whole host of features that didn’t seem to make any sense or serve any purpose except to be there and look fancy. He tried not to be distracted by his reflection in the polished gold hull plating as he dared to creep closer. He crouched down to see that it was, in fact, resting on the deck, metal-to-metal, and, in order to avoid crushing its uppermost bits against the ceiling of the Arrow’s hangar, was actually listing at a disturbing twenty-five degree (or so) angle. He heard the hiss of an airlock equalizing from somewhere out of sight, and walked over to investigate just who had crammed this golden lump into the Arrow’s cavity. As he approached, he heard the whine of an embarkation ramp as it was interrupted halfway along its programmed travel by the deck of the Arrow, angled up from its perspective. As Nolen rounded the corner slowly, he was startled by an intense tap on his shoulder. Spinning around, he came face to face with an upset-looking Ferengi. Gott: Response? Hobart: This is your ship? Gott: Response? Nolen’s eyes narrowed. Hobart: Right now, I’m the guy who decides whether your ship gets to plug back into our EPS grid. Gott: Response? Nolen smiled. He hadn’t met very many, but he’d always heard that Ferengi were very pleasant, so long as you had something of value to give them. TAG/TBC ——— Ensign Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer USS Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3 --

Love how things just seem to connect us all. ❤️

((Ferengi Yacht 'Billable Hours', on Approach to the USS Arrow)) Teeth scraping and gnashing together as he worked through the last of his second dinners imported tube grubs, Gott sighed with culinary contentment as he sipped a glass of Sluggo Premium Latinum Reserve and considered how he'd ended up aboard his newly purchased vessel and the purpose for his impromptu trip. Word had reached him in his small but gradually expanding counseling suites aboard Deep Space Thirty Three that the USS Arrow, home to many of his current roster of patients, had experienced grave trauma during the course of their last mission. It had concerned him to learn that many people had died and many more had been injured, mostly because he wasn't immediately able to book them for urgent crisis care for which he charged a significant premium. He'd been horrified at the thought of all that trauma and the associated anecdotes he could use to flesh out his next book going to waste so he'd decided to make his inaugural journey aboard the Billable, a spacious and luxurious yacht built to his exacting specifications and paid for with a small portion of the latinum he was making via his Interspecies Medical Exchange consultancy fee. Although it had taken far longer to complete then originally planned, largely due to his constant need to augment and improve the interior design features, Gott had to admit to finally being satisfied in a vessel that could serve as both home and office quite literally anywhere. The craft's overlong and tall body contained three decks and an observation dome, decorated in a style some would call 'ostentatiously garish' and which those same opinionated observers would silently envy. The lower deck, where the various engine bits and...pipes, he assumed....held little interest for him aside from containing the lobby to his office, where a tranquil fountain and soothing bogs created the gateway to his mid-deck, which contained a palatial end to end counseling suite that even the Nagus would be hard pressed to improve upon. The living carpet, bioengineered to give warmth and tactile feedback via his delicate feet, stretched from wall to wall and his 'listening couch,' upon which he could recline for maximum psychological insight, created a soothing liquid filled crescent around half the interior wall. Soothing lights, a robust media and sound system and a sumptuous bedchamber that would make terrestrial kings and emperors green with envy made up the top deck and extended all the way forward, where wrap around viewports provided a spectacular backdrop for his...personal entertaining. Although his invitations to the stations Commanding officer, a ravishing woman named Agatha, had so far been rejected with increasing amounts of hostility, Gott knew it wouldn't be long before his obvious charms won her over. All of this passed through his mind as Atraxia, his digital assistant, handled the mundane details of piloting the green and gold warp capable vessel on it's final approach towards the Arrow. Her synthetic and sultry voice called to him as he splayed out on the couch, his iridescent Tholian silk robe hanging open around his shoulders. Atraxia: Doctor Gott, we're on final approach to the Arrow but they're a little confused about our presence here. Gott clucked and straightened up slightly, brushing back his earhair into a well kempt mane. His voice was sharp and shrill when he answered. Gott: Put me on the radio with them then! I won't have my clients go unserviced...or worse...stuck with only Starfleet counselors to treat them. Or steal away his client list, he failed to add out loud. Atraxia dutifully opened a channel and Gott loudly cleared his throat. Gott: =/\= HaAcCGgGGGnGGGcchh =/\= Wilkenbean: =/\= Uhh....This is...Arrow flight operations. Please state your identification and purpose for approach. =/\= Gott finished clearing his throat and responded to the confused but officious sounding voice. Gott: =/\= Hello? Hello?! Is this thing even on?! =/\= Gott thumped on the comm pickup as his yacht drew closer to the Arrow, handily killing time as they approached. Wilkenbean: =/\= This is the Arrow, we are receiving your transmission....are you in...some form of distress? =/\= Gott clapped his hands together at the sudden opportunity and siezed upon it. Gott: =/\= Distress! Yes, very distressed Mister...Mister? =/\= The voice on the other end of the comm didn't seem to quite know what to do and fumbled out an reply. Wilkenbean: =/\= Petty Officer Wilkenbean...and you are? =/\= Gott stood at the sheer nerve of the question. Gott: =/\= Well of course you know who I am, Mr. Winkenbreen! I'm Doctor Gott...famed author, esteemed practioner of the therapeutic arts, noted interior designer. And I desperately need to come aboard your little vessel right this instant! =/\= The voice on the other end of the comm sounded taken aback and the distance to the Arrow dropped to less than a hundred kilometers. Wilkenbean: =/\= Well I'm sorry, Doctor, but I don't have you on the flight schedule and I don't have authorization to bring a civilian vessel aboard. Please discontinue your approach or you risk being fined under Starfleet regulation...=/\= Gott cut the man off with a terse cackle. Gott: =/\= This is a medical emergency, Lieutenant Franksandbeans, and I'm using my special authority as a medical practioner working for Starfleet and the Interspecies Medical Exchange! Your crew is in desperate need of psychological aid and I'm coming aboard! Clear the landing pad or...whatever it is you need to do...we're landing. =/\= Gott closed the channel and watched with a smile as Atraxia competed the approach and, with only a bit of hesitation, the Arrow's forward facing shuttlebay doors slid open and allowed his vessel to park up, consuming most of the interior volume of the tiny bay. Now all he had to do was wait for the patients to come to him. [To Be Continued!] ((OOC: Gott is now available for shoreleave counseling services for anyone who wants to visit!)) ====================================== Gott Ferengi Commerce Authority Bonded Psychotherapist Noted Author Ships Counselor, Interspecies Medical Exchange V239509GT0

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(( Interior, Corridor, Deck 3, USS Arrow, approximately 2 hours later )) The ship was a flurry of activity, much of it routine. As the Arrow traveled at low warp to a destination yet unknown to him, Nolen approached his own destination: his quarters, tucked among those of every other junior officer on the ship. Relieved of his duties on the Bridge, Ensign Hobart walked zombie-like from the turbo-lift as a chorus of vague, indecipherable whispers chewed at his mind, and a swelling sea of mental trauma threatened to drown his sanity. He came to the door of his quarters, indistinguishable from every other door on that stretch of hallway, but for the display plate above the door controls. Placing a fingertip on the otherwise featureless lit contact, he paused for a moment to peer up and down the corridor. Hobart: ::through a sigh:: Okay. Stepping inside, Nolen looked around his room. An interior cabin, there was no viewport to the stars he knew to be whizzing and curving past the ship in its warp bubble. His eyes finally landed on his duffel bag, left unceremoniously on the foot of his bed. His thoughts turned to the task of unpacking, but just then a sharp, fiery hot stab of hatred made itself known, leaping out of the morass of emotions from the cargo back a few dozen meters aft. In response, Nolen's mind instinctively conjured up fear, and then changed tack to aimless rage. Having subconsciously settled on "fight" over "flight," he gripped the strap of his duffel and with a hiss launched it across the room, where it connected with the far wall and fell to the floor with a thud. Inhaling deeply, Nolen closed his eyes and nursed his throbbing knuckles. Should have used the other hand. (( Flashback, Stardate 238906.14, Hobart Residence, Relva VIII Mining Colony )) A teenaged Nolen sat on his bed, staring out the window of his bedroom. The stars outside were cold and distant, and the rock face of the barren excuse for a planet was cold and near. His father stood in the doorway, still dressed in his gold-shouldered uniform. N. Hobart: I still don't understand why you didn't stay on Betazed. It was a lie. Nolen understood full well why they didn't. But it was a lie told for a purpose, to draw out a truth. O. Hobart: ::sigh:: It was... not a great place to be. After the Jem'Hadar destroyed the leadership, people started to lose hope. And that's contagious, even for people who can't read minds. Then there were the camps. Even after liberation, all that hurt just kept stewing. Even now, it's not the same as it was. N. Hobart: Yeah, you didn't want to put her through it. ::beat, turning to face his father:: She could be stuck there right now, stewing with a billion other broken people. Instead of just me. Nolen felt his skin getting hotter. He knew his resentment pulsed through the walls, even if his words didn't reach that far. He knew his mother could feel his anger. Heck, she might even be reading his thoughts at that very moment. Serves her right, he thought bitterly. When she had her fits, he felt them. He even dreamt them. There was no escape for him; why should there be for her? Omar Hobart stiffened at his son's words. He locked his pale brown eyes onto Nolen's black pools, his face taught. Nolen knew this look. This was the look he spent the past ten years being afraid of, the look he knew he'd someday have to master, too. This was "Starfleet." But the clenched fist was new. Nolen could practically taste the bitterness nagging at his father, even before the man spoke. O. Hobart: ::measured:: None of us get to choose the life we're given. We don't get to control the things that happen to us. We can't go back and change the past, no matter how much it hurts us today. It's been a lot for you, but it's been a lot for all of us. We didn't choose the War. We didn't choose the Occupation. We didn't choose to give you empathic powers. We chose to come here, away from it all. So that you might stew with just one... ::sneer:: "broken" person, instead of a billion of them. His father sighed, and Nolen felt his own shoulders slump. O. Hobart: I know today was not a good day. And I know you're suffering right along with her. But... ::pause, thoughtfully:: ...have I ever told you what a "Jewish Optimist" is? Nolen shook his head and perked up. So often the Betazoid side of his family dominated his every waking and non-waking moment, he relished the opportunity to connect with his Human side, if only to leave the other behind. (( End Flashback )) Leaving the duffel for a moment, Nolen strode to the replicator on that same wall. Hobart: Computer, ::waiting for the soft chime:: give me the strongest stimulant I'm authorized to replicate. Drink form. Hot. As a steaming mug of Zariphean coffee whirred into existence within the replicator's small alcove, Nolen pulled out the PADD tucked into his uniform's back pocket. Maintenance wouldn't schedule itself. A sweet-sour wave of grief rolled over him, and he tenderly ran his hurt hand through his hair to put himself together as much as he could. He didn't trust his dreams on this ship, not now. Not with two cargo bays packed to the brim with broken people. As his father's words a decade ago echoed in his head, Nolen made for the door and set himself a challenge to stay awake and busy for the remainder of the trip. Hobart: "Somebody who believes things can't possibly get any worse." ::hesitant sip, a look of disgust:: Oy, that's terrible. ::another sip:: Exiting his room, he turned left. It was a straight shot to Main Engineering from here, encircled by both the permanent and makeshift Sickbays, and this drink promised to keep him awake for three days. TBC ——— Ensign Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer USS Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3

Saving Yip...

(( Bridge, Deck 1, USS Excalibur-A )) Kirky had never enjoyed bridge duty. He was much happier way, way, way down in Shuttlebay Two, where everything could be turned into gym equipment and nobody asked him too many questions about what he was doing. As long as the place was tidy, his boots were polished, and there was a shuttle ready and waiting when a senior officer wanted to go off on some fool’s errand, Kirky was golden. When he was called up to the briefing room and then asked to investigate the disappearance of Adidas and Thanos, he’d wanted nothing more than to be sent back below decks. But as the officers worked together, bounced ideas around, and started getting answers to their many questions, Kirky felt a change in his guts. It was kind of like that horrible crash he survived in the Argaya system, when all of these qualities he didn’t know he possessed manifested. Like, how did he know how to start a fire with sticks? He never did that before. He started giving orders to people and they… like… just obeyed? The teamwork on the bridge made Kirky feel like maybe, just maybe, he belonged up here. The captain wrapped up her chat with Jovenan and Daniels awaited Kirky’s warp trails search. Kirky shook his head when the results came through. Bean: I’m not seeing any warp trails. The ship must have transited this space too long ago, or the beacon was launched and arrived here under its own propulsion system. Sorry, captain. Nicholotti: I feel like we're being played. Daniels: Hopefully they'll be able to pull some useful intel off of that beacon. Bean: It sounds like all roads point to K-7, though. Lieutenant Dakora went on a mission there not too long ago. ::beat:: Taddison’s disappearance could be a follow up. Maybe they went to collect the Flarn’pan tracker Kijana told us about? The old station, once at the far reaches of explored space, still remained an anchor point for criminals and other ne’er-do-wells seeking to make a name, a fame, or a fortune in the Borderlands. Kirky wondered if there was some alternate universe where he, Kirkington Bean, was a pirate and K-7 was his own private kingdom, where people from all over the galaxy would high five each other and get swole. Nicholotti: Who knows why, but it seems like there's a lot of things that converge on the station. Daniels: It does seem to be the general consensus. Kirky had his hands on the conn’s “GO” button. His confidence growing through collaboration and bridge duty, he was ready. The readiest. Bean: If Lieutenant Yellir approves us to fire up the QSD, we could be in the vicinity of K-7 in a matter of minutes. Nicholotti: Good. But is that it? Is there nothing else to consider? Lieutenant Daniels looked at the map for long enough that Kirky got bored. Daniels: Mister Bean, humor me and check the scans you ran on the probe for traces of theta-xenon and sirillium. I've got a hunch that I'd like to vet out. Kirky was thankful that his back was turned. He could have sworn that Theta Xenon and the Siriliums was a band he used to follow at university. Come to think of it, no one had scene a trace of Theta or any of the Siriliums since their big farewell concert at Badger Jam ‘98. Bean: Uh, right away, Lieutenant. ::beat, tap tap:: Checking for theta, urm, yeah. Boop. Nicholotti: What are you thinking? Daniels: Like I said, at this point it's just a hunch. But, if I was going to vanish without a trace, the Azure Nebula seems like a pretty good spot. The scanner scope lit up like a Christmas tree and Kirky shunted his results to the holographic viewer in the center of the bridge. Bean: You were right, Lieutenant. Resonance traces leading directly away from the beacon’s coordinates. Beating 030 mark 059. Directly on course toward the nebula. Good place to hide, I guess. Daniels: It would also negate some of our size and power advantages, as some of Excalibur's advanced scanning and targeting systems won't work with the natural interference. Bean: You’re a genius. Nicholotti: Which means if we are being played, then we need to be careful. The captain frowned and tapped her combadge. Nicholotti: =/\= Bridge to Ensign Jovenan.=/\= Jovenan: =/\= Response? =/\= Nicholotti: =/\= Come to the bridge. We need some science assistance in unlocking the Azure nebula's hidden secrets. =/\= Jovenan: =/\= Response? =/\= The deck plating rumbled, almost imperceptibly. But if it were imperceptible on Deck 1… Suddenly, the ship’s alerts went nuts. One after another, like falling dominos, sounded off. Kirky felt his stomach sink down to his butt. Nicholotti: =/\= Medical emergency, cargo bay one! =/\= Half the ship was cut off from the other half, and the third half was going nuts, thanks to what was undoubtedly an explosion somewhere near the cargo bay. Kirky’s efforts to sound the ship came to naught as system after system refused his queries. Nicholotti: What. Happened? Bean: Internal sensors are offline on Decks 3 through 11. Communications are going haywire, turbolifts are halted. Daniels / Nicholotti: response Bean: All stop. Warp drive is offline until we get an update on structural integrity. Daniels / Nicholotti: response Bean: Wait a minute. There's something going on in our main computer. ::beat:: I can't make heads or tails of it. Primary systems have been compromised. Secondary, too. Daniels / Nicholotti: response Bean: oO I am so getting fired. Oo Tag / TBC Ensign Kirkington Algernon-Greene “Kirky” Bean IV Shuttlecraft Pilot & Relief Helm Officer USS Excalibur NCC-41903-A D238804DS0

This can't end well...

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((Cargo Bay 7 - Deep Space K-7)) He could've been on Risa right now. In fact, that was where the official travel plans he'd filed back on DS224 said he and the XO were going. It had been a funny little inside joke at the time, but he now found himself wishing he was there or on the Excal or anywhere. Just, not here. A dilapidated, filthy, urine-scented, ancient cargo bay; That was where Talos Dakora was going to die. At least, that was looking like an uncomfortably probable outcome at the moment. Their anonymous contact had turned out to be a small army of Klingons, seemingly bent on killing them for... Well, Talos really didn't know what the hell they'd done to wind up in the Klingon's sights and as another phaser blast spanged off of a cargo rack just a few centimeters above his head, he didn't exactly have the time to give the question a thorough analysis. Soon, their enemies would get their acts together and hit them from multiple sides at once and then it would be curtains on the MacKenzie-Dakora Show. He pared down the rapid-fire stream of thoughts into just the important stuff and spoke. Dakora: We need to move before they flank us. He blind-fired over the top of the crate with his tiny little Type 1 phaser, wishing like hell he had a nice compression rifle set to wide-beam right about now. MacKenzie produced a phaser of her own from her boot and Talos couldn't help but grin a little, despite their grim circumstances. It seemed neither of them were particularly good at "coming unarmed." MacKenzie: Let’s go for the door before they have a chance to get it together. We can use the crates for cover if we need to, but I’m hoping we have the advantage of speed. She looked him dead in the eyes. MacKenzie: Cover me. With heavy-booted footsteps fast approaching, Talos didn't hesitate. Popping up from his cover, he did his best to lay sweeping streams of cover fire from his under-powered weapon. At the same time, MacKenzie launched into a sprint toward the exit. Talos gave her a sort of abbreviated two-count, before he darted off in the same direction, zigging and zagging a bit as phased energy impacted spectacularly all around them and occasionally firing wildly behind him to slow down their pursuers. He stumbled as a massive impact crashed into his upper back, but he managed to keep his feet. A little-known feature of the sim-leather jackets often worn by SFI Officers was the layer of monotanium weave that covered the vital areas. That, coupled with a set of high-impedance polyduranide capacitors, would absorb a hit or two from a high-powered phaser before losing their effectiveness. It was the only reason Talos persisted in wearing them on missions like this, despite Commander Niac's constant ribbing. That, and he thought they looked pretty damn cool. Judging by the pain radiating from his back and shoulders, he wouldn't be shrugging off another hit. Ahead, he could see the doors with the large white seven painted on them. They just had to... He gritted his teeth and hissed in pain as a shot passed so close to his head it singed his ear. He'd just turned back to loose a few shots at his attackers when he heard something he'd never heard before; MacKenzie was screaming. Talos whirled back around to see the big Klingon, the boss, lift his only friend for a thousand parsecs off the ground by her arm, causing it to flex in an unnatural way. Unable to take a shot without potentially hitting MacKenzie, he surged forward, eschewing any attempts at self-preservation and launching his formidable bulk at the aggressor with the intent to maim, damage, and destroy. Dakora: Addison!! He almost made it. Almost. For some reason, it occurred to him at that moment that he'd never said her first name aloud before. This might've garnered further thought if a Klingon gang member hadn't emerged from one of the rows of shelving along his path and landed a positively brutal right hook directly to the side of Talos' head. Then, nothing occurred to Talos at all. TBC ======//////======> Lt. Talos Dakora Chief Intelligence Officer USS Excalibur-A O238811CD0

((OOC: I was challenged by Lt. Seta to sim an unusual species and this is my answer. Please pardon the lack of tags as this would be a tough one to interact with.)) ((The DriftHome, Near Starbase 224)) The Choir had grown fitful and restive as they approached the next destination on their tour of the quadrant and rightly so. It was rare for so many of them to leave the safe haven of their home and rarer still for them to share of themselves with those from the outside, from the dry and solid and cold. About them, the choir had mixed feelings in shades of vermilion with hints of deep chartreuse, but those feelings passed, fading like a dissipating rainbow into their more neutral shades. Their slender, fragile vessel attached itself to the great station like a lamprey, dangling in the darkness but holding fast to a great whale that hardly noticed its presence as it swam on. They would not leave the safety of the Drifthome but that would not hinder their multi-chromatic spectacle. Great shutters across the skin of the Drifthome began retracting, allowing those on the Station or in the Vessels nearby to witness the Choir in all its magnificence. It was a matter of minutes, but time had little hold on the Choir and so they waited, rippling and undulating with the artificial currents in their suspended sea, until the proper mood spread across them in a shimmering lash of deepest verdant green. Then, to all, it was the Beginning. Composed of more than ten thousand distinct beings, the Choir performed as a singular collective. There was no leader, there were no authorities, there was only the pureness of their shared emotion playing out in shades of fuchsia and coral and rose. Their joy to perform was a wave of amber and gold intertwined with a shimmering ivory of purpose and expression. They sang of unity in saffron and harmonized in cobalt strands that seemed to twist and shiver within their great number, all visible to the strange eyes that had come to view this special performance. The ecstasy of their performance rippled outward in a thousand vibrant neon greens as the Choir's tempo picked up, waves of color now colliding with one another and combining together like the surf of two vast oceans meeting. They sang of welcome in vivid yellows that would rival any sunrise and, when at last they sang of departure nearly an hour later, their umber tones were warm and kind and clear. With a final rhythmic pulse of tangerine, the Choir began to fade back to their neutral tones, exhausted from their efforts but gladdened to have shared with those so unlike them. A sound, carried from the station and into their Drifthome, nearly startled the Choir into contraction. Fortunately, it was one they had heard before and, though it sounded like a great storm to them, the Choir knew this was the only way the alien beings could explain that their message had been seen and appreciated. The shared consciousness that was the Choir drifted off to rest as the shutters closed, safe within the Drifthome and satiated by the applause of their audience. A final flare of purest silver, their most sacred and cherished hue, was as close as they could come to a bow. [End] ============================== The Wandering Choir The Drifthome V239509GT0

Yum?

As I will be not be eligible to participate with my secondary ship, I am going to kick this off! This year's theme for USS Arrow is "A Very Mythological Crew" We have: Properly named all avatar files and uploaded them to the wiki. Properly named our category on the wiki. Properly categorized our category on the wiki.

'I was in school once. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...' - Kali

This year's theme for USS Excalibur - A is "Starfleet Academy Yearbook" We have: Properly named all avatar files and uploaded them to the wiki. Properly named our category on the wiki. Properly categorized our category on the wiki.

This should be put on a plaque and placed on the bridge right above the center chair.

Well, now it has a name.