Chen
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"Guts and Glory" - Captain Tallis Rhul
The dressing room was awash with red, logos printed in pride of place on team shirts. The noise of the crowd reached through into the dressing room by every avenue possible; under doors, through air vents, even clawing its way through brickwork. Faint as it was now, the whole team knew that what they were about to face was a torrent of sound that would wash over them, and bear them up to the lofty heights that represented the stakes under which this game would be played. In contrast, the team themselves were silent, sitting on benches beneath their lockers, eyes focused on the coach as he stood before them, ready to make his last speech before they put everything on the line.
“Guts and glory.” He started with a familiar moniker, one that he had repeated many times in similar situations. “That is what I want every single one of you to believe. Now more than ever. Never before has this team come so far. Never before have we shown those people out there that we are the force that everyone should be worrying about in this competition.” He pointed vehemently in the direction of the changing room door to emphasise his point. “Never before have we been this close to taking it all. And we can take it all. We can be the best. We can work together to achieve what has not yet been achieved in this team’s history.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. The sudden break in the regular cadence of the motivational speech drew those assembled in all the more. When he opened them again, his voice retained its authoritative quality, but it was calmer, his approach more logical.
“If you’re defending, I want you tight to the goal. Work the zones that we’ve practised in training. If you do that, and cover each other’s backs then we can shut the other team out. We’re counting on you to repeat the excellent performance we saw last game.” He shifted his gaze to another part of the room. “When we attack, we are merciless. Full speed. Play wide where you can and then cut into the middle. If you run the touch line, that gives you one side where you can’t pick up a marker, and when it comes down to making a move, when it comes down to out and out skill, we’ll edge them every time. You all know what to do.” Taking a deep breath, he bellowed the rallying call. “Are you with me!?” The team roared back. Checking their kit, they stood, a nod from the coach sending them in motion towards the field of play.
“Herrera.”
Hearing his name, the player in question halted in his stride, his eyes locking with those of his trainer and mentor, awaiting his final instructions.
“You played well last game. You were unselfish. You set up others when you thought they had a better chance to score than you did, but what I liked best was that you weren’t afraid to worry their defence. Keep getting yourself into attacking positions. Keep hassling them. I’m counting on you.”
Clapping him on the arm, the coach smiled and led the way through the door and into the match day atmosphere.
Saturday November 17th, 2114
It was breathtaking. Humberto Herrera’s team’s stadium, El Sardinero, was packed to the rafters. Half of it was painted in the bright red of his team, the other in the white of the opposition. Cutting through the noise came the most uplifting sound. It was the same anthem he had heard sung on the terraces from the first day he had put on a team shirt to play a game of soccer. The Santander Saracens were a proud team with a history dating back over two hundred years to the foundation of one of their contributor clubs, Racing Santander. Within the last decade, that team had amalgamated with its former rival, the much younger Esportivo de Santander in preparation for the most anticipated event that the sport would ever see: the formation of the World League. Today was a landmark in itself. This was the final match for the last ever Copa del Rey, the most competitive tournament in Spanish soccer, but more importantly a chance for one of the teams to take home the prestigious trophy to keep. Humberto crossed himself in the usual ritual before he stepped onto the field, swearing to himself as he assumed his position on the centre spot that he would be wearing a winner’s medal before the day was out.
In a moment, the coin toss and decision over who would kick off were over. The opening whistle blew, stirring up a well of emotion that threatened to overwhelm Humberto. As Valencia’s captain passed the ball back to one of his midfielders, the game began to fall into a tempo that beat as a human heart. Battle lines were drawn early on; leaping to head the ball after a well-placed cross from one of his wingers, Humberto felt a sharp tug on his shirt that fatally altered his trajectory, sending him crashing to the floor. Blood pumping in his ears and outrage radiating from him like flame, he entered into an angry exchange with the guilty defender before the referee weighed in with a warning for both players.
The clock rolled inexorably towards 45 minutes. It seemed that both teams were deadlocked, neither one able to get the upper hand, until a white-clad attacker pierced their midfield and hurtled towards the centre of their defence. Humberto watched in disbelief as one of their most reliable men missed his footing and stumbled in an embarrassing mistake that led to the ball flying past their goalkeeper at impossible speed, the net bulging with the impact of the projectile. Half of the stadium fell silent. The other half exploded. Shaking his head at the injustice, Humberto covered the distance between himself and the fallen defender in a heartbeat, helping him to his feet and offering ineffective words of consolation. Within moments, the whistle blew for the end of the first half.
Stardate 238511.17
The crowd was packed with colour. It seemed that each of the 16 teams represented in the play-offs of the Corellia Prime Parrises Squares tournament had a score of representatives in attendance. The entire court was bathed in the subtle glow of a court-sized holo-imager that stood ready to transmit the game in real time to countless other worlds. It was the pinnacle of Diego’s sporting career; playing in the red of the San Francisco Sentries was a fortuitous honour made possible by his coach back at Starfleet Academy, and so far he had been making a positive impression.
The din of the crowd was drowned out by the sound of Corellian rave music as the officials made their way to the side of the court. On this world, a match of Squares was always a special occasion. The game had been born here, and it was one of their main tourist attractions. Teams from across the entirety of the Alpha and Beta quadrants coveted the Corellian trophy like no other. Winning it even once earned bragging rights for at least a decade. Looking towards one of the holo-recorders, Diego mouthed a get well soon message to the injured member of the team he had been selected to stand in for before entering a huddle with his three team-mates. All of them were raring to go, still aflame from their coach’s words, and riding on a heady rush of success from their opening game. With three goals under his belt already in the competition, Diego had his sights set on doubling his overall tally before the final klaxon sounded. It was a tall order, but he knew he could do it.
The order to power up their ion mallets signalled the beginning of the match. The court, divided into squares of uneven heights, instantly became a battleground as the two teams fought to find a strong tactical formation before the ball entered the match. Even in the opening few seconds Diego realised that the court’s current configuration would have them running up and down the stepped platforms relentlessly, testing the physical limits of all involved. The second the ball was tossed onto the court, the first opposing attack began, quickly halted by the defenders and turned into a counteroffensive. Diego began to scramble up onto one of the highest squares to receive the pass, and was met with a sharp elbow in the face along the way, knocking him off his feet. Blood pumping in his ears, he sat up; physical contact in any form was legal, so he would bide his time to get revenge later on.
The end of the first quarter came and went, launching them into the second. Diego had almost set up a goal for his wingman, drawing both defending players before laying the ball off into space near the far touchline. Unopposed, his team mate had driven the ball like a lightning bolt, although it climbed too high and sailed over the top of the raised goal mouth. Plays continued back and forth at an impressive rate, neither side seeming to tire, and neither one willing to lose momentum. It was just seconds before the klaxon for the end of the second quarter that the white-clad Corellian team made their move. In response to one of the defenders losing their footing on the edge of one of the platforms, their lead attacker showed unparalleled skill as he somersaulted from a high square to one of the lowest, keeping control of the ball with his mallet before launching it high into the air to just tip through the rim of the San Franciscan goal hoop. The crowd, and Diego’s team, were stunned.
“They were lucky.” The coach was unflustered, his cool head the product of years of training and professional experience. “If we get even one break like that, we’ll nail them to the wall. Our defence was impenetrable up until that point, and we’re looking threatening in attack. Keep at them. Grind them down. Guts and glory! I know that each of you is going to do your best out there because you are proud to have your name displayed on the back of your shirt, in the colours of the team you love. Show your opposition that pride. Show them how badly you want this. Show them why you’re made to be champions!”
Saturday November 17th, 2114
The team re-entered the match determined to thrash out a victory. Humberto’s face was set. This time, it was their turn to start the play, which they did with an audacious display of skill, threading the ball through in unpredictable moves that gained them ground. The Valencian players rose to the challenge, chasing them down at every turn, until growing frustrations on their part saw Humberto tripped as he attempted to loop the ball into a dangerous position. Spluttering at the earthy taste of soil as he regained his feet, he realised it was the same defender as before. Checking his anger this time, he allowed himself a smile as the referee once more made his presence known by raising a yellow card. Any more dangerous challenges, and Valencia would be losing a player.
Hope turned to frustration, then desperation as the deadlock continued. All hopes of taking the lead were replaced by a longing for just one goal, enough to extend the competition. Humberto was beginning to feel lactic acid building in his leaden legs; finding himself useful positions was consuming more and more energy. And then it happened.
A chance! Clever play by one of the midfielders sent an opposing defender the wrong way, leaving a yawning gap through which Humberto sprinted at full tilt, his limbs screaming for him to ease up. Ignoring their desperate pleas, he ploughed ahead, chasing the ball, possessed in his attempt to reach it before the goalkeeper could heft it down the field. His competitor was clearly experienced and had anticipated the danger and started his run early, but Humberto knew he was quicker. Throwing his weight behind his striking foot, he aimed for the far corner of the goal, striking with as much venom as he could muster, aiming to lift the ball over the goalkeeper who was now sliding in along the ground…
Jubliation was replaced with agony as he connected with something solid. He didn’t feel the break so much as hear it, and the world became a blur of lights, noise and searing pain as the red shirt crumpled to the ground. He realised in a moment of terror that this would be no ordinary injury, and as medics clad in bright orange vests flooded the area, he wondered whether this would be his last game. Slowly and delicately, he was loaded onto a stretcher before being taken to the treatment room; deprived of the noise of the crowd he had no idea what the fate of his team was to be. In all likelihood, Valencia would be the ones taking home the priceless treasure. However, to his surprise, Humberto knew that his was not the end of his journey. His eldest son had already laced up his boots for his first school game and the name Herrera would continue to be associated with sports for a very long time to come.
Stardate 238511.17
When play restarted, Diego knew that he would have to double his workrate. The team followed suit. They leapt between the platforms running rings around the Corellians, who struggled to keep up. But keep up they did, and the score remained unchanged. For every inventive play, they came up with an inventive defensive strategy, barging attackers out of key positions to intercept passes and threatening to score on the counter-attack. Finally, signs of Corellian frustration began to show as Diego’s opposite number once again targeted him for a block. This time, he put his entire bodyweight behind a shoulder check, running at full tilt to hit Diego hard and send him sprawling out of bounds of the court. Dusting himself off, the hardy Spaniard waved away a concerned medic; the impact had been painful, and he was sure he would have some bruises the next day, but that wasn’t going to keep him out of the competition. It would take something much more serious.
Hope turned to frustration, then desperation as the deadlock continued. All hopes of taking the lead were replaced by a longing for just one goal, enough to extend the competition. Diego was beginning to feel lactic acid building in his leaden legs; finding himself useful positions was consuming more and more energy. And then it happened.
A chance! Focused on the ball, one of the Corellian attackers was in the perfect position to be blindsided. Returning the earlier gesture of an elbow to the face, Diego slipped away from his marker and barged the unsuspecting Corellian off his square. Intercepting the ball, he spun on the spot, and saw the defender that he had floored quickly regaining his feet. His only option was to thread together some difficult leaps across squares of the same height, approaching the goal from an unexpected angle. One… two… three successful jumps completed and only one more stood between him and his objective. Flicking the ball up into the air with his mallet, he drew back his right arm, ready to strike with all his might mid-jump…
Jubilation was replaced with agony as he caught the edge of the platform and mistimed his jump. Dropping like a stone, he felt his shoulder blade connect hard with the edge of the platform below; a sickening crack and a wave of pain and nausea followed as the red shirt collapsed in an ungainly heap. Play stopped as the medical technicians rushed the pitch, each carrying a silver-boxed medical kit, to diagnose and treat his injury as quickly as possible. Diego’s own medical training told him that his injury was most likely not serious in the long term, but he would have to leave the field for treatment if they were going to fix it properly. With a heavy heart and giddy from the large dose of painkillers that was administered with the hiss of a hypospray, he followed the medics to the treatment room. Deprived of the roar of the crowd, he was left oblivious as to how the game would end. It seemed inevitable that his team would lose, knocked out of the tournament and denied a chance to earn that priceless treasure. Still, Diego felt vindicated. He had competed in another professional game of Parrises Squares, and he knew he couldn’t be faulted for his effort.
The smell of sweat sat hung heavily in the air, mixed with the fruit-infused tang of the team’s recovery drinks. On the end of the row sat Herrera, patched up as well as he could be, victorious if only in having insisted that the medical team allow him to hear his coach’s post-match debrief.
“You gave it everything. You worked hard. I could not be more proud of the team that sits here before me today. Luck is something you can never plan for, and I stand here safe in the knowledge that when the time comes for me to address the public I can tell them that it was one moment of bad luck that kept us from carrying home the trophy, and nothing more. This is far from the end. Next year, we set our sights on a new league, and a new challenge. By taking part in the competition, our name is already included in the history books. It’s up to us now to make what we can of that, and to look to the future. Guts and glory. Onwards and upwards.”
Captain Tallis Rhul
Helmsman
Federation Embassy Duronis II
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The Perfect Moment
July. A month filled with promises, glorious weather and new beginnings. The Academy campus at San Francisco had taken on a very different atmosphere as its final year students made preparations for the graduate ball. Brightly coloured banners decorated the residential buildings, bearing a wide selection of emblems belonging to the Federation's members races; committee members bustled around in groups, frantically dotting 'i's and crossing 't's. Everyone from engineers to tacticians was bathed in their own aura of excitement, each with specific plans for how they would make their evening memorable. An expensive dress here, a gorn costume there, the inevitable practical joke threatening to pop up at an unexpected moment.
For Diego Herrera, the ball represented a wonderful opportunity. His academy-based studies had come to an end, to be replaced in the fall with an internship at Starfleet Medical. He had sacrificed countless hours and social gatherings to keep on top of his studies in pursuit of that goal, and he felt proud that he had reached it. In equal measure, he was proud that his sweetheart since high school, Holly deVries, had secured herself a place on the USS Senegal. She was a scientist, and had wanted to land a deep space assignment for as long as he could remember. He had always loved the sparkle he saw in her eyes whenever she talked about it. It brought a special warmth to her already spellbinding face that was so easy to get lost in.
There had been discussions, of course, initiated by Holly, about how they might manage their relationship across half a galaxy's distance. Diego felt confident that he had reassured her. He was prepared to wait for her, maybe to see if he could earn his own spot on the Senegal's crew once his assignment to Starfleet Medical was complete. After all, they both had busy lives and their careers were important. He had lost count of the times that she had been understanding about his considerable commitments to his studies, his family, Parrises Squares... the list went on. It was only fair that he should be prepared to grant her the same consideration. In fact, he was prepared to prove just how much she meant to him. He allowed himself another look at the diamond ring he had saved all of his credits to buy. It reflected not just the morning sun, but his hopes that tonight would be the most important moment in their relationship so far. Pocketing it once more, he set off with a smile to tackle his sizeable to-do list. There was still a lot of administration to be taken care of to finalise the internship, he owed his sister a call, and there was the small matter of the final day of the Squares season. Everything would fall into place. He knew it.
Inevitably, six o'clock turned into seven. Seven turned into eight. His trip back to the family home had taken a little longer than planned as his sister had caught the Aldebaran flu and there had been complications in mixing her medication with her regular dose of pills. Eight turned into eight-thirty. He had called Holly to let her know that things had gotten a little too much on top of him again, but that he fully intended to make an appearance. Once again, she had been understanding; Diego had taken heart from that, and from the fact that the ball had sounded a little quiet over the comm. It seemed that things weren't quite in full swing anyway. As an insurance policy, he had arranged for them to meet at ten in their favourite lunchtime haunt in the academy gardens. By then, darkness would be falling and the decorative lights that had been festooned throughout the grounds would make the setting for his proposition all the more perfect. He imagined her stood there, her golden blonde hair falling elegantly onto her delicate shoulders, those deep brown eyes wide with surprise and delight. Nine o'clock, and his ailing sister was finally settled, his mother reassured and his journey back to San Francisco and the rest of his life ready to begin.
By nine thirty, his nerves had begun to take hold. Was this really enough? They had, after all, intended to eat together at the ball, and while there would still be time for dancing, he felt as though he needed to make up for the time he had missed. He had taken just enough time to make sure he looked smart in his tuxedo, splashed on some of Holly's favourite cologne and shone his shoes. The ring, secure in his pocket, seemed to cry out for a little more than just a conversation in private. A few minutes' deliberation led him to the replicator, which he left shortly afterward with a bottle of champagne with two flutes and a punnet of strawberries. Loading them into their usual hamper along with a tricorder, primed to play a selection of string quartet music, he took a deep breath and bustled through the door.
Ten o'clock, and he was right where he had promised he would be. The picnic blanket was set up on a perfectly trimmed section of lawn, the champagne and strawberries laid out and ready. The tricorder hummed the perfect accompaniment, and the dusky sky was offset by a million pin[...]s of softly glowing light. Everything was perfect, leaving Diego to rehearse the exact lines he would deliver when Holly arrived. He wanted them to be memorable too, and to truly convey how much she meant to him. All he needed to do was practise, and wait.
And wait he did.
Ten turned into ten thirty. Confused, he tried to contact her to check if she had been held up, but there was no reply. Worried, he thought about going to look for her right away, but he knew that he had just made her wait longer than a half hour for him. Besides, it was possible that the noise of the ball, which had to be in full swing by now, had prevented her from hearing his call. He sat on the blanket and waited some more. Ten thirty turned into eleven.
This really wasn't like Holly. Even if she was having a good time, she wouldn't have just forgotten about him. Running an inquiry with the Academy's computer told him that she was now in her quarters. Was she drunk? Bruised pride taking a back seat to concern, he started to pack away the picnic just as a fellow graduate walked by. He grinned wide enough to show all of his teeth, and offered Diego a party-crazed thumbs up.
"Heeey, it looks like you've got quite the set-up there, man. Your girlfriend's going to love it!"
"Yeah," the deflated Spaniard answered, "isn't it romantic?"
Wasting not a second more, he left at a jog for Holly's quarters, the re-packed hamper carrying his diminishing hopes within.
After the third chime at the door in as many seconds, Diego was greeted by Holly's roommate Kari and a thoroughly unimpressed expression. Her Bajoran nose seemed even more wrinkled than usual, and her mouth was stretched into a disapproving frown.
"I knew I was going to have to be the one to mop this up."
It was the first time Diego had found himself having to make excuses. Holly had never asked for one before. She knew how dedicated he was to all aspects of his life, and they had made their relationship work through thick and thin for years.
"Is Holly awake? Is she OK? Just let me in, I can explain why I didn't make the ball in time. I just want to see her."
One gesture caused Diego's heart to sink, and as Kari shook her head, she finished the job of crushing him with a piece of unwelcome news.
"She just left, Diego. She spent the day packing to transfer to Starbase 12, and she's planning on staying there until she boards the Senegal. By now, she's on the transport." Seeing his shoulders slump, her tone softened as she attempted to explain. "Look, it's not because you were late again if that's what you're thinking. Everyone who knows you can see how much time you spend wearing yourself out doing the things you care about, and she knows she's one of them. She wanted me to tell you that she's sorry, but it's just not enough any more. She's on a five year mission, and given that you're both on tight schedules you might not even have a chance to talk to each other more than about twice a year, and she needs more than that. I'm sorry."
The ring was cold in his pocket, and it was all he could think about. Letting go of the picnic basket, he choked back his reply. There was really nothing he could say. Nodding once, he turned on his heels, his feet guiding him as quicky as they could back to the safety and comfort of his own quarters.
July. A month filled with promises, glorious weather and new beginnings. The Academy campus at San Francisco had taken on a very different atmosphere as the final year cadets stumbled bleary-eyed into the early morning sunshine. At times like these, it was easy to pick out the medical majors; they were the ones who didn't look they'd been beaten to within an inch of their lives in a back-alley. It was amazing just what a hypospray could cure, including tequila-fuelled all-nighters designed to blot out all form of human feeling. Around campus, the banners and lights were being taken down, and the academy was returning slowly to normal. He allowed himself another look at the diamond ring he had saved all of his credits to buy. It reminded him not just of Holly's eyes, but of the fact that things probably would have been different if he'd thought less about empty gestures and more about real commitment. Stooping down at the edge of one of the flower beds, he dug a small hole with his fingers, and dropped the ring into it, burying it and his feelings beneath a layer of dark earth.
Tallis Rhul
Guest
Federation Embassy Duronis II
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Hello!
Welcome to the March/April round of the Writing Challenge! Please read this post carefully for guidelines on entering your submissions! Following in challenge traditions, the March/April round uses an object chosen by the previous round's winner to decide its theme.
Joining us on the judging panel for this round is the March/April winner, Lieutenant (jg) Velana, who has decided on the following topic for this round:
"The Storm"
With such a powerful image at the heart of this round's challenge, the judging team is eagerly anticipating the chance to read your interpretation and the story you create. We've seen literal and figurative interpretations of themes in previous rounds, so how you work the topic into your entry is up to you!
Also, a new regular feature of these posts is the running score for the year to date in the fleetwide competition! With a winner from the Tiger-A and a runner up from the Mercury, it's Tiger-3, Mercury-1! Which of the other ships will respond this time?
Guidelines: To participate, create a new thread. The subject of the thread must be the title of your story. Use the drop-down "topic prefix" box to add "MAR/APR" in order for your entry to be considered for judging. If it is a Work In Progress, denote that at the top of the post itself (in the body text, not in the thread title). As with last round it will be the final draft posted in your topic that will be read and taken into consideration. Any unfinished entries marked as Work In Progress will not be considered for judging and will be moved to the "Character Cafe" forum at the end of the contest. Your work must be entirely your own. No co-authoring. You are welcome to create any character you so desire, but they must be from the Star Trek universe. No "canon" characters allowed. (i.e.- No one who has been on a show.)
Also, please remember to sign your final draft as you would a post on your own ship.
Length: No more than 3000 words and no less than 300 words accepted.
Beginning Date: Tuesday, March 6th
Ending Date: Saturday, April 22nd
See Also: the Writing Challenge Website
Challenge: “The Storm”
Good luck to all competitiors! Get scribbling!
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And so comes the moment of truth! The announcement of the victors for January/February! Before we do that, however, it's time for an announcement:-
This year we will be keeping a track of all of the winners of the writing challenge, and at the end of the year, the ship with the most winners will receive a banner for their wiki page to show that they triumphed over all of the competition! Remember: you have to be in it to win it! We're looking for as many entries from your ship as possible so that you have a fighting chance of climbing the pile and reaching the summit: winners will score three points for their ship, runners up will score one, and in the case of ties we'll be looking at the judge's scores for all of the ship's entries over the course of the year, so every little helps!
A huge congratulations to Lieutenant Saveron for "Behind the Mask", which is this round's runner up!
And now for this round's winner - put your virtual hands together for Lieutenant (jg) Velana for her entry, "Affectations"! I'll be in touch with our winner to set a subject for the next round of the challenge, and we'll be launching the March/April round in the next couple of days! We'll see you then!
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"The Masks of Duty" by Cmdr Kalianna Nicholotti
Reviewed by Cpt Tallis Rhul
Right from the start, this piece captures the imagination with detailed, descriptive writing. I found myself eagerly anticipating the interviews in exactly the same way as the reporter, asking myself who we might meet, and what each of the senior staff might be like. I'd had a clue as to how the "masks" theme for this round might tie into the story thanks to the title, and sure enough we saw a doctor who was focused on bedside manner, an engineer who had more jobs than time to do them in, and a captain whose reputation filled his ready room like an aura. With a 3,000 word limit on the piece, you didn't have a lot of time to flesh these interviews out, and you did a good job of not getting mired down in conversation and communicating the most important information.
I really wanted some more information about the captain! I felt the suspense mounting as the reporter was let into the ready room, and the fact that you skipped the series of interviews for the bridge crew helped to ratchet that up a notch. The brief description was good, and explained enough to create an impression of what they might be like, but I think in this particular paragraph you could have afforded to flesh things out a little more. Was the captain how the reporter expected them to be? Did they ask about how the crew interviews had gone? Were there any answers to the reporter's questions that turned up something she didn't expect? I'd love to have found out!
The final part of the story cemented the tie in to the theme, and I think it was a nice touch. Every series of Star Trek contains multiple episodes where you get to see that the men and women who lead their ships have a human side to them, and they're not just machines who've been programmed to do a job. That's one of the things that makes Star Trek special, and it makes a very welcome addition to your story.
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"Klingon Mask" by Lt Ba'Eli
Reviewed by Lt Cameron Bunag
I enjoyed the simplicity of this story as it speaks to the truth of life. We all put on masks at times for certain people, be it our boss, or parents, or our lovers. This story, in it’s base form, is a story of a daughter talking to her father and putting on her klingon mask for the conversation. Reading this story I felt like it could have been expanded in so many different ways that would really bring it to life. I never really felt a connection to Ba’Eli--got in her head enough--to where I felt like she really was putting a mask on for her father. The mention of the earth drink, Chai latte, was really the only thing before the talk that hinted she was putting on a mask when talking with her father. If the author could have expanded on her more non-klingon side, maybe mention her human boyfriend before the talk--things that would have highlighted her non-klingon side, it would have helped the reader feel like Ba’Eli was really putting on a mask to talk to her father. Stories are about the characters, and Ba’Eli comes off a bit flat. This being your PC, you have to remember that as a stand-alone piece in the writing challenge, the reader knows nothing of what you have written previously with Ba’Eli. She is a new character to the reader, and to get a better understanding of her--what she feels, what she likes, and what annoys her, it would help to reintroduce her in the piece. Remember that writing isn’t so much about telling the reader what happened, but showing it. The dialogue in Klingon was a nice touch which really rooted the story in the Star Trek universe. I also enjoyed the clever use of the tea, how it was used to show the passing of time.
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"Behind the Mask" by Lt Saveron
Reviewed by Cmdr Eden Redstone
I especially like the clipped tones used in the first paragraph, the explanation that precedes the meeting between Saveron and Serok. The short sentences, concise and lacking all the dramatic adjectives we expect from fiction, gives a sense of Vulcan logic and lack of emotion. Nicely done. I think the story suffers from technical problems -- Summarizing past history, for example, removes us from the immediacy of the moment. One of the first lessons I learned in writing was: show don't tell. A little more of that would have added substantially to the power of the story. And then again, in another sense, the stepping back, inserting explanations, is another way of diluting the emotions of the scene. Making it more Vulcan in a sense. However, having said that, its a good story nevertheless. I can relate to the internal conflicts he feels as he faces the man who embodies so much of that struggle. A good story and nicely done -- you've actually got me thinking about writing a Vulcan.
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Affectations by Lt (jg) Velana
Reviewed by LtCmdr Arden Cain
If there is one species with the Trek universe that could be said to hide behind masks on a permanent basis, it is the Vulcans. The idea that while cold, emotionless and logical on the outside the Vulcans are still very emotional for lack of a better word. While this story uses many masks, be it a physical item or the main characters reaction to her own species, it is apparent that each instance was thought out in detail.
Even in the beginning of this story it is immediately noticeable that Velana is different to other Vulcans mentioned. The comparison deepens but the one thing that isn't fully said is Velana's background, how she become more emotional then that of her instructor. To a reader who is unfamiliar with the character this aspect is a missing piece of the puzzle. It is also interesting how the writer chose to have Commander Talen speak. There are a couple instances where the Commander appears to be speaking with a touch more emotion then I would typically expect to see from a Vulcan character, even one that has spent a great deal of time around other races.
On the whole though this is a beautiful piece. I liked the interaction between Velana and Talen. Once again this particular teacher-student relationship is contrasted against what Velana has experienced from Vulcan's. While Talen may be critical of her student it is done in a manner that a Vulcan would consider caring.
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The results are in, and it's time for the reviews and announcement of the winner! All of the entries showed a good deal of creative flair in interpreting the theme this round and made for enjoyable reading! Each review posted below indicates the judge who reviewed your submission. Votes were also presented by Lieutenant Commander Marcus Dickens and Fleet Captain Toni Turner, who are both resident judges on the panel.
So, without further ado, let's see what the judges thought...
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That's it ladies and gents - the deadline has passed and the judges are eagerly donning their spectacles and clicking their pens! Watch this space for the results!
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Hello!
Welcome to the January/February round of the Writing Challenge! Please read this post carefully for new guidelines on entering your submissions! Following in challenge traditions, the January/February round uses a free choice of theme as inspiration for entries.
Joining us on the judging panel for this round is the January/February winner, Lieutenant (jg) Cameron Bunag, who has decided on the following topic for this round:
"Masks"
Will you interpret the theme in a literal sense? Or maybe use the existing mask-based Star Trek episodes as a source of inspiration? Is there a way for you to approach the topic in a different way? Either way, the way you interpret the theme is your own choice!
Guidelines: To participate, create a new thread. The subject of the thread must be the title of your story. Use the drop-down "topic prefix" box to add "JAN/FEB" in order for your entry to be considered for judging. If it is a Work In Progress, denote that at the top of the post itself (in the body text, not in the thread title). As with last round it will be the final draft posted in your topic that will be read and taken into consideration. Any unfinished entries marked as Work In Progress will not be considered for judging and will be moved to the "Character Cafe" forum at the end of the contest. Your work must be entirely your own. No co-authoring. You are welcome to create any character you so desire, but they must be from the Star Trek universe. No "canon" characters allowed. (i.e.- No one who has been on a show.)
Also, please remember to sign your final draft as you would a post on your own ship.
Length: No more than 3000 words and no less than 300 words accepted.
Beginning Date: Thursday, January 12th
Ending Date: Saturday, February 25th
See Also: the Writing Challenge Website
Challenge: “Masks”
The best of luck! Let battle commence!
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Ahem. Yes. Sorry about that!
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And with the reviews now complete it's time to announce this round's runner up and winner! Congratulations to everyone who entered - there were some absolutely fantastic submissions this time, and I can confidently speak for the judges' panel when I say how much we've all enjoyed reading them.
The winner for this round is:
Lieutenant Sinda Essen's "History Repeating"
And the winner of the November/December Writing Challenge, 2011 is:
Lieutenant (jg) Cameron Bunag's "The Day I Died"
A huge congratulations to you both, and I'll be in touch with our winner shortly to fix up our category for the next round! Watch this space!
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"History Repeating" by Lt. Sinda Essen
Reviewed by Lieutenant Jaxon Mc Ghee
The introduction of this entry quickly sets the scene; colonist facing a winter without any support. While the settlers discuss their own problems, memory flashbacks of the main character introduce the reader how a post Earth Federation tried to solve the problems after Earth's destruction. Parallels quickly become apparent between these two settings and reveal the theme of this story. How to react in difficult times; continue as always, wait for improvement or to act and hope to induce change. Regardless of how the story ends the narrative caused me as the reader to stop and think.
I found the story was well structured. The introduction of the main character, an old woman, trying to work on a frozen field already forecasting bad times, while the arguing settlers and diplomats continued to underline the dilemma's of both time-lines. What I liked the most was that the writer only really used and needed a single flashback to show the similarities between the two settings and to tell the story. The postponed supply ship, while the core of the settlers problem, simultaneously allowed the reader to suspect the outcome of the arguing diplomats encountered earlier, thus reflecting the story's title.
In all Essen pushed the reader in the desired direction without force, letting the the tale carry them. While she bound the piece to its title, the background relevance to everyday life is true and forces the reader to contemplate. Whenever we make major decisions there is no fool prove guarantee that it was the best choice; there is a residual risk of having made a mistake. The entry was an excellent contribution to this challenge round and an interesting way of interpreting the topic.
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"Lazarus" by Lt (jg) Alucard Vess
Reviewed by LtCmdr Marcus Dickens
The story starts with the view of a little group of people looking for their own salvation given the disaster that threatened Earth. It describes how people can get irrational when they face destruction near and how eveyone has to look for themselves when a chaos is originated. Vess presented us with the vision of a former commander from starfleet that sees himself forced to act to save his people, even against his own having to raid a starfleet installation. He showed us how the retired commander Savage has to act as a leader to save as many people as he could and after they saw the destruction of Earth he had to make the choice to scavenge from the graveyard of Wolf 359 in order to survive, leaving all kind of moral restraints aside. I personally liked that part where he put feelings aside for more practical use.
From here the ship was refitted and managed to save other ships from a Klingon attack and they joined the Lazarus fleet, that Savage gave the name when they're just one ship. From there the story simply goes to the future telling us that the grandson of former Commander Savage returned to Earth to leave a memorial torpedoe on the remainings on Earth but made no mention of what happened to the rest of the universe. Klingons, Starfleet, Federation, no mention of how their survival was seen by others. Also it doesn't tell us what kind of future choosed the components of the Lazarus fleet, if they stand by the old Federation standards, if they've met the remainings of Starfleet or if they changed for a mor practical civilization, so this Lazarus effect left them being what they were or if they've changed to a more hostile one, so the effect of Lazarus isn't as clear as it could seem from a first look. The jumps in time weren't bad, but I'd have preferred less jumps and more in depth of two or three of them to inmerse myself more in the story.
Regarding grammar I just found some words like viewscreen, turbolift, wavefront, lightyear that could be checked if they're to be wrote that way or separate as my word corrector says (turbo lift, wave front, light-year or view screen), but I've seen them together so it's not much of an issue.
Aside from that, Vess showed us that despite the disaster that affected the Federation there's always hope for survival as it depends on the individuals
more than the organization itself and the story give us a good hope for whatever crisis that's thrown over humanity in particular and the Federation
globally and the detail that after a century they've preserved the central chair is a nice detail too in favour of a sense of continuity.
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"The Day I Died" by Lieutenant (j.g.) Cameron Bunag
Reviewed by Lieutenant Arden Cain
Stories of revenge have been in existence as long as humanity could be called a sentient species. So when faced with loss whether it is that of a singular individual or a planet in this case the most common and sometimes understandable response is the desire for revenge. Instead of focusing on the act itself, this story concentrates on the process and unfolding mystery. It would be easy to write a story where the main character holds all the cards to carry out the need then and there. Thankfully "The Day I died" was not one of those stories. There is a sense of purpose and reason to it that really drives the story forward, engaging the reader.
Having said that my largest problem with this story is the authors choice of resolution. To me, using the Cardassian missile is a cheap way to finish a great story. I'm reminded too much of the Voyager episode to be honest. I am sure that a man who established the contacts to acquire said missile could have found himself a ship potentially with a cloaking device to do the same task.
I found only a couple of spelling errors and the writing perspectives remained constant. In fact besides my previous complaint I can find little wrong with this story. I found this story to be highly entertaining. In particular the creative descriptions and story structure. The choice of language was prefect to convey a person who wasn't as polite or caring as is commonly seen in Star Fleet officers. And what human born on Earth would be after the tragedy. Nevertheless the language was kept well within a PG-13 range. Above that the story was compelling but also contained a humorous edge that I feel adds to the main character.
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"Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall" by Ensign Logan Kane
Reviewed by Captain Toni Turner
Mr. Kane's story was interesting, well written, and certainly, held the readers' attention. It was a very good first try at our challenge, and I would hope to read more of his writing.
Nevertheless, the manuscript fell short of the 300-word minimum by only nine words, which could have been added to answer some of the questions that were left unanswered in the story, like why had the lovers been dating secretly for almost two years? Anything that would help with the descriptions (e.g. more emotion from Sullivan, rather than just shedding "a tear" for his lost son. Perhaps it was "an agonizing tear.") A word here and there would have put him in the safe zone.
I have no doubt that had the story met the word count requirements, and a little attention to spelling and punctuation that Mr. Kane's submission would have been a top contender for this challenge. I also liked the fact that even though he was in the Academy, that he took the bull by the horns and entered the Writing Challenge. I like that kind of confidence in a writer.
Well done, Mr. Kane!
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"Lost and Found" by Lieutenant (j.g.) Velana
Reviewed by Captain Tallis Rhul
It's easy when writing disaster-themed fiction to concentrate on billowing gouts of flame, hurtling chunks of debris, screams, death and everything that goes hand in hand with Hollywood special effects. This story, however, concentrates on something that's more difficult to handle realistically: the emotional fallout. Handling loss is something we all do differently, but what do we do when we lose something so fundamental as our home, or even worse, our homeworld? This entry handled that issue well, plausibly exploring the reactions of two estranged lovers.
I would have liked to see those emotions explained in even more depth. We saw through Velana and Cade's actions that they needed to be close to fill the void that had sprung up in their lives, but the emotions that they were feeling were no doubt intense, yet kept behind the scenes. What really drove Cade to lie about his parents' survival? Did his habit of ordering a drink in for Velana before she arrived at the bar irritate her even more in the wake of Earth's destruction, or did her feelings at his old habit seem hollow in comparison to what she had just lost?
I enjoyed the structure of the piece. The opening section set the scene nicely and provided contrast with what followed. Additionally, I felt that the characters' journey from the beginning to the end of the story was well thought out. Cade's wake-up call caused a change in him that helped bring him, Velana and the reader all together. I always like to feel like I can identify with the characters I'm reading about, and in this case I certainly could.
A great submission from a very competent writer - very well done!
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It's that marvellous time of the month again when the laurels for the Writing Challenge are handed out and a winner is crowned! Who will be top of the pile this time? Keep reading to find out, but first, here are the reviews from the judges. Due to a few departures as a few of our members have moved on to bigger and better things IRL, we've swelled the ranks of our judging panel to include Lieutenant Arden Cain from the USS Mercury and Lieutenant Commander Marcus Dickens from the USS Avandar. Last round's winner, Lieutenant Jaxon Mc Ghee, has also joined us for this round!
As usual, the name of each reviewer is included along with the review, so without further ado, let the judges' voices be heard!
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The uniforms shown in Star Trek: Countdown are pretty awesome...
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That's it! The entries for this round are closed, and the judging will begin! Thankyou to everyone who took part - I'm looking forward to reading your entries.
Watch this space for the reviews and announcement of the winner!
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Hello!
Welcome to the November/December round of the Writing Challenge! Please read this post carefully for new guidelines on entering your submissions! Following in challenge traditions, the November/December round uses a "What if?" theme as inspiration for entries.
Joining us on the judging panel for this round is the November/December winner, Lieutenant Jaxon Mc Ghee, who has decided on the following topic for this round:
"What if Earth had been destroyed in 2387 instead of Romulus?"
There should be plenty there to get your creative juices flowing - what would happen to the Federation? Would they relocate HQ? And how would other galactic powers react? Maybe your entry could focus on something on a much smaller scale, such as the response of someone far away?
Guidelines: To participate, create a new thread. The subject of the thread must be the title of your story, preceded by the tag [2011: NOV/DEC], which is a requirement for entries that will be used when we archive the entries at the end of the round. If it is a Work In Progress, denote that at the top of the post itself (in the body text, not in the thread title). As with last round it will be the final draft posted in your topic that will be read and taken into consideration. Any unfinished entries marked as Work In Progress will not be considered for judging and will be moved to the "Character Cafe" forum at the end of the contest. Your work must be entirely your own. No co-authoring. You are welcome to create any character you so desire, but they must be from the Star Trek universe. No "canon" characters allowed. (i.e.- No one who has been on a show.)
Also, and this is a new requirement, please sign your final draft as you would a post on your own ship.
Length: No more than 3000 words accepted.
Beginning Date: Wednesday, November 9th
Ending Date: Saturday, December 31st
See Also: the Writing Challenge Website
Challenge: “What if Earth had been destroyed in 2387 instead of Romulus?”
Good luck everyone!
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So here it is... the moment you've all been waiting for. It's the moment where I ramble on and try to create the literary version of that pregnant pause that you get on the X-Factor before one of the acts that no-one particularly cared that much about finds out they are leaving and throws a tantrum! (One day I'll figure out how to do it without the mandatory ellipsis and hammering of the enter key, I swear!)
The judges had a heck of a time determining a runner up this time - we just couldn't agree and everyone liked a different submission, which means that everyone who didn't win is a runner up this round!
However, the one thing we could all agree on is the winner - this was unanimous, and it's a huge congratulations to...
Lieutenant Jaxon Mc Ghee for "Today, Tomorrow, Yesterday"!
We all felt that this was a really well put together entry and it stood head and shoulders above the competition this round. Well done Lieutenant Mc Ghee! That of course means that I'll be in touch directly to determine the theme for the next round, so keep your eyes on your inbox!
Thanks again everyone, and we'll be looking forward to seeing the next selection of entries at the end of the year! The next round will be live asap!
Ensign James Fox & Ensign Ilyazi Malon - Delving Deep
in 2013
Posted
((Private room, Assembly Hall, Prak Zel))
::Things hadn't yet been explained to Fox on the plans for how they were going to deal with - and hopefully win - a game of Stratagema, and so Ilyazi, having already retrieved the Ensign from Zaveri's office, walked with him back to the room Minister Haksar had allocated for their use. He was nervous, she could tell, and she needed time with him both to explain, and then prepare him for what was possibly going to be quite an experience. She didn't know yet just how much contact he'd had with telepaths, and getting him used to her in his brain was her main priority.::
Malon: ::laughing:: I tell you what, if you win, I'll buy you dinner, how does that sound?
::This was the second time he'd been surprised by Malon in as many minutes. A shy smile managed to grow on his face. A few drinks with Counsellor Reinard and dinner with Dr Malon. If only he'd known making friends with his colleagues would be so easy, he might have managed to sleep the past fortnight.::
Fox: ::Smiling:: Well with that incentive, I've no excuse to lose.
::She smiled to herself, and as they finally approached the private room, she silently opened the door and held it while Fox came in, much as she might have welcomed a patient into her offices back on Earth. But he wasn't a patient. He was a colleague. And with that in mind, she closed the door, literally shutting everything outside that room off.::
::The door closing and the ensuing silence startled Fox. The young Ensign quite clearly had no idea why Ilyazi wanted him alone. He cautiously took a seat in the far end of the room, facing the Doctor. He had nervously begun to run his hand through his hair.::
Malon: ::laughing gently:: You look a bit nervous. Are you okay?
Fox: ::Hesitantly:: Uh...that depends. What are we here for?
Malon: ::smiling:: Just relax. I wanted to talk to you about this game of stratagema. How are you feeling about it?
Fox: Alright....I suppose. I'm quite a good player but with so much riding on me winning....and the quality of the opposition...
::He slowly shook his head, doubt plastered over his face.::
Malon: Hopefully I can help with that. ::moving to bring a chair over to where Fox was sat:: The Captain and I have come up with a little plan to aid you in winning this game of stratagema. But for it to work, I need you to be completely and utterly comfortable with me.
Fox: W-what?
Malon: Do you know that I'm a telepath?
::Of course, the moment he registered the question in his mind, she'd have her answer. Not even the most skillful of liars could ever school their first thoughts from her.::
oOYesOo
Fox: I think I heard the Captain mention as such in the briefing....
Malon: ::giving a curt nod, keeping her black eyes settled on him:: How do you feel about telepaths and communicating via telepathy?
::She was keeping contact verbal for the time being, more with the aim of building trust than anything else. Captain Herrera had been forearmed with the knowledge she was a telepath, and by his thoughts made it quite clear he had no problems communicating that way. Fox, though...she wasn't sure yet. Nor, for that matter, was Fox::
Fox: How do I feel about it...? I don't know. I mean, you're the first telepath I've met.
oOI've nothing against telepaths if that's what this is about....is that what she thinks? God, I hope not. Does she think I'm a bigot? Does the Captain?Oo
::She heard his quite obvious distressed thoughts and, with a warm smile, held up a forestalling hand.::
Malon: It's okay, I'm not asking because I think you're bigoted. No one thinks that of you, so relax. This is purely about the game. ::pause:: Obviously, for me its quite natural to hear other people's thoughts in my head. For you it isn't. It can be quite a...unique experience, especially if you're new to it.
Fox: ::Cautiously:: If I'm new to it....?
Malon: The idea is that I'll be with you while you play a game of stratagema. The Zakdorn spectators won't worry about their thoughts being overheard, and you can guarantee that with their skill, they'll be thinking of what your next move should be if *they* were playing. All I need to do is listen in, pick up the best move from them, and relay it to you. How does that sound to you?
::Fox's face was quite the sight; his jaw hung open and his eyes narrowed as he fought to take in and comprehend this barrage of new information.::
Fox: Wh.....but isn't that cheating?
Malon: ::chuckling:: Yes. But as much as I'd love to say you're up to the Zakdorn's level...no one but a Zakdorn is.
Fox: I suppose you're right....Stratagema's a pacy game though, could you....'communicate' with me that fast?
Malon: ::nodding reassuringly:: I think so, but we'll need to practice. I don't want to overload you, so I want to take this fairly slowly.
::She paused again, giving him chance to think it through.::
Malon: Ready?
Fox: ::Nervously::....Alright. I'm willing to try. Do I need to do anything? Will this hurt?
::She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, her next words being sent telepathically to him.::
Malon: ~ I promise you, it won't hurt. And all you have to do is listen. ~ ::speaking aloud:: I'm going to send you a list of four words. All I want you to do is relay them back to me verbally. Alright?
::He was startled as he first heard Ilyazi's voice inside his own head; he jolted upright in his seat. As she finished and he realised no harm had come to him he softened.::
Fox: ::With growing confidence:: Yeah....yeah, alright.
::She made sure to only send him thought words, not images. She started off with simple words, gradually making them more complex until she reached 'schizophrenia'.::
Fox: Tree....yoghurt....vigilant.....::Grinning:: schizophrenia? A few hundred years ago, that'd be my diagnosis if I told anyone about this.
Malon: ::grinning:: And how do you know I'm not a figment of your imagination? ::more serious:: How was that?
Fox: Okay...I think. How was it for you?
::He almost kicked himself for asking such a silly question.::
Malon: ::smiling at him:: It was fine, trust me. I'm used to this, so you don't need to worry about me. ::shifting to lean forward on her knees:: Now, the next part is a little more intense, a little more tricky. I'm going to send you images - a few basic items, a few complex scenes. All you have to do is relay them back to me as fast as you can. We'll start when you're ready.
Fox: ::Exhale:: Okay, I'll give it a good go.
Malon: I promise you, you'll be absolutely fine.
::As long as *she* didn't mess this up, anyway.::
Fox: ::Smiling:: Even if I'm not, at least there'll be a Doctor in the room.
::Ilyazi nodded, smiling at him, and then proceeded on with his "training". She started off by showing him an image of a pear. As he responded, she added to the image, imagining the bowl the pear was sat in. And then finally the table.::
Fox: An apple.....no, a pear sorry. It's.....it's now inside a bowl....the bowl's on top of a counter...or a table, rather..
Malon: Good, that's correct.
::Ilyazi sat back at that point, clearly indicating it was time for a few minutes break. She stood and walked over to the wall unit that Haksar had welcomed them to use. Fox welcomed the distraction, this was all rather disconcerting.::
Malon: What would you like?
Fox: A pint of Romulan ale....::grin:: but I'll settle for a glass of water.
::She laughed and tapped in the order for two waters, waited for them to appear, and then held Fox's out for him to take. He gladly accepted the drink.::
Malon: ::concerned but relaxed:: How are you doing with this? Are you okay?
Fox: I...think so. It's just a bit strange, I've never had anyone visit my brain before. If I knew you were coming, I'd have tidied up a little.
::He ventured a little smile then took a few sips from his water. It had been quite a busy day...they hadn't prepared him for this in the Academy.::
Malon: ::smiling:: I'm glad you can still keep your humour through this. Some people totally freak having someone else in their minds.
Fox: How about you? Is it tiring, telepathy?
::She took a sip of her own glass of water, considering his question. She wasn't entirely certain how much to tell him. Not *everything*, obviously, or he really would freak at being anywhere near her.::
Malon: It's...complicated. Rodulans have four lobed brains, which means that when we're among our own people, we're blind to each other. Put me in a crowd of people, and its like a deaf person from birth can suddenly hear one hundred conversations going on around him, all the time, non-stop. It's not always easy to filter out.
Fox: I can't even imagine what it must be like.....
::A sudden thought occurred to Fox. His mind flashed back to their initial briefing and the marine that had approached Ilyazi. He had offered her apologies and romance in equal measure, much to her chagrin.::
Fox: So back on the Vigilant....with that marine Iceman....you must've known what was coming?
::She chuckled and bit her lip all at once.::
Malon: Oh yes, I did. I perhaps could have been a little kinder to him by *not* rejecting him in front of the entire senior staff, but honestly...
::She trailed off at that point, not wanting to finish the sentence.::
Fox: I think during times like that, I wouldn't want to know what the guy was thinking....
::She held his gaze for a long moment, and judged his comment to be entirely truthful and frank. She felt like she could trust him, seeing as he was putting so much trust in her.::
Malon: ::carefully:: Sometimes its good to know. It can be...a protection. If you know what's coming, you can avoid it.
::oO(Malon) Or exploit it. Oo::
Fox: That makes sense..
Malon: ::giving him a grim smile:: Are you ready to continue?
Fox: Yeah, let's do it.
::There was a steel in Fox's voice which wasn't there before. Ilyazi, extremely glad to find him more confident, put her glass down on the desk and crossed one leg over the other, letting herself relax into the chair.::
Malon: This next image is going to progress faster and will be more detailed. If you're struggling, I'll know. But I'll also know if I think you can do it, okay? Do you trust me enough to do this?
Fox: I do. Trust you, that is.
Malon: ~ I'm here to support you, so don't worry. ~
::Once he'd given her the all-clear, Ilyazi sent him an image of a palm tree. A sandy beach quickly formed around the tree. A beautiful coloured parrot flew into the branches as-::
Fox: I can see...a palm tree. And now a beach. I've just seen a parrot fly onto the tree. A green wing Macaw, I think. I saw one of those once when....
Malon: ~ Focus. ~
Fox: oORight....sorryOo
::She didn't let him lose concentration. She now did something she rarely did - she forced other thoughts that came to him out of the way, forcing him to remain focused, and then continued with the image. It was a more intense way of doing it, but he needed to learn mental concentration.::
::A coconut fell to the beach and rolled towards the lapping waves, as a lizard crawled upon a rock. Everything she sent him progressed rapidly.::
Fox: A coconut's fallen....it's rolling towards the sea. I can see a lizard....it's....it's.......crawled on the rock. The parrot's looking at it. The parrot's flying towards it...landed on it's back. They're both now scampering after the coconut. They're not fast enough, the coconut is in the sea drifting away.
::She knew he'd struggled part way through, but Ilyazi kept him focused on the task at hand. Once they'd finished the image, Ilyazi pulled herself back out of his mind, giving him chance to recover and gain control of his own mind. She hadn't hurt him, but she was concerned it may have been too much.::
Fox: ::Breathlessly:: Wow....that was...quite a lot...
::He hadn't expected telepathy to be so....vivid. The image forced into his mind was clearer than his own recollections; his focus was so intense that he had momentarily forgotten about the room he was sat in. Returning so abruptly to his own thoughts was quite disjarring.
Malon: ::quietly:: It's not easy, I know. But are you okay?
Fox: I'm okay, honestly. That felt alright.
Malon: ::smiling and picking up her glass:: Good. ::taking a sip:: How do you feel about the game tomorrow?
Fox: ::Pausing to think for a moment:: Pretty good, all things considered. Better than I did, at any rate..
Malon: My plan of attack is to let you do the hard part. I'll only be there as a guide. ::wryly:: If you count shoving images into your mind as "guiding".
Fox: ::Grinning:: I like guide. It sounds gentler than 'mind image shover'.
::She laughed at that, thankful he was okay after what some would deem an intrusion.::
Malon: Thanks! ::smiling reassuringly:: I think you'll do okay. Just...react as quick as you can, and stay *focused*, and you'll be absolutely fine.
::React as quickly as you can, stay focused and you'll be absolutely fine; he'd been told exactly the same thing by his father before his maiden flight. The words themselves did little to assuage his unease but the familiarity of them brought yet another smile to his face.::
::Ilyazi put her empty glass down on the desk and stood up. She was worried, now she thought of it. Not because of Fox's abilities. But because of hers. Stratagema was *fast*, and she had to be careful.::
Malon: Tomorrow morning we'll have a quick practice session, but I think otherwise you seem fairly comfortable with me in your mind. That's all I wanted to make sure of.
::Following Ilyazi's cue, Fox also stood. He felt confident that the advantage afforded to them by Ilyazi's telepathy would be significant. Now all he needed to do was brush up on his own skills.::
Fox: Not that I'd wish rooting around in my brain on anyone... but I'm glad it's you helping me with this. Thankyou.
::And *that* was all she needed to hear to make her totally relax again. She was always wary of using her telepathy in such a forceful way, but hearing a "thank you" made it all worthwhile.::
JP by
Ensign James Fox
Helm Officer
USS Vigilant
&
Ensign Ilyazi Malon
Medical Officer
USS Vigilant