Alleran Tan
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Posts posted by Alleran Tan
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I'll let you in on a little secret!
*whispers* To provide cadets with good examples, characters to bounce ideas off and other things, sometimes experienced writers in the Fleet are asked to ghost-write cadets to make up the numbers. There were five cadets in my academy class, but only two of them were "new" characters! Hush hush though!:: Gasp :: Really? That would explain a few things :: Nods :: Fascinating, I am curious to know now if the other really active member of our team was a ghost now! :: Laughs :: How did you find that out, did they tell you after you graduated or did you have to spy on your commanding officers? Oh and your secret is safe with me, no worries there, you can always trust a Cardassian with your secrets :: Winks ::
Haha... well, if they weren't listed on the graduated cadets list (there was an announcement for both classes), they either failed (unlikely if they were active!) or they were a ghost.
If you ask the CO of your cadet cruise very nicely they might let you know who simmed that cadet. -
Oh wow I am surprised that only 3 of us got through, I felt for sure we would have had 4!
It is a pleasure to be formal member of the team now, and I so far really loving my time simming with the crew of my new ship, it is going to be amazing
Thanks for the welcome everyone
.I'll let you in on a little secret!
*whispers* To provide cadets with good examples, characters to bounce ideas off and other things, sometimes experienced writers in the Fleet are asked to ghost-write cadets to make up the numbers. There were five cadets in my academy class, but only two of them were "new" characters! Hush hush though! -
Damaer, Kelly, Adan- welcome to the fleet!
You guys are gonna rock whatever ship you each end up on! -
Woo hoo! Welcome to the fleet, Ensign Wakeman!
Looking forward to seeing you around! -
----
Lt. Commander David Whale
Chief of Security
USS Constitution
http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Whale,_David
&
Doctor Fiona Shelley
Currently on leave
http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Shelley,_Fiona
-----
“Every man dies. Not every man really lives.” – William Wallace
“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” – Friedrich Nietzsche
(( Starfleet Veterans Hospital, Earth ))
:: It was surprising how little the hospital had changed since she’d last been there. Granted, it hadn’t been all that long -- Shelley had resigned her position as Assistant Director of Emergency care in late 2385 -- but she had still expected SOME changes. New furniture, maybe a replacement for that horrid pea-green tile in the foyer. But it all seemed to be the same and it made her wonder whether the SVH was having another one of its funding crises. During her tenure at the hospital, they’d gone through a period where they couldn’t get approval for anything beyond the necessities and while they’d never been given a reason for it, they had all assumed it was because of the vast amount of resources Starfleet was dumping into the war with the Gorn that was going on at the time. ::
Otumbé: Well, well... if it isn’t our adventure-seeking Doctor Shelley.
:: Turning around, Shelley smiled. Indira Otumbé was one of only a handful of people at the SVH that Shelley could really call a friend. The pair had started working at the hospital within days of each other -- Shelley in emergency care and Otumbé in the mental health department -- and had had a standing “coffee date,” as Otumbé called them, every Tuesday. ::
Shelley: Indira.
Otumbé: Fiona.
:: They embraced and Otumbé patted Shelley on the shoulder. ::
Otumbé: And how are you doing? How is your life of adventure in Starfleet?
Shelley: A little too adventurous at times.
Otumbé: And yet you stay?
:: She winked. Shelley chuckled. ::
Shelley: And yet I stay. :: beat :: Don’t psychoanalyze me, Indira.
:: The other woman laughed a deep, rolling laugh. It was the kind of knowing laugh that said no psychoanalysis was needed. ::
Otumbé: Coffee?
Shelley: How about tea?
:: She was thankful for the change in subject. ::
Otumbé: Tea? When did you start drinkng tea, girl? Your blood used to be seventy-five percent Columbian Bold.
:: Tea was David’s drink. This was going way too far. ::
Shelley: Just testing you.
:: Liar. ::
Shelley: Coffee would be great.
Otumbé: I just need to drop this off :: she held up a padd :: and I’m free and clear for an hour.
:: With a smile and a nod, Shelley followed her friend through the maze of corridors that made up SVH. ::
Otumbé: You know, with you popping in today too, it’s like there’s a reunion that no one told us about.
:: Shelley frowned. Reunion? The duo had come to a large room filled with video monitors. Most showed empty rooms, but a couple showed two people seated at a clean white table opposite each other. ::
Shelley: Sorry, I don’t follow...
:: Otumbé nodded toward one of the screens. ::
Otumbé: The Ackerman Event. That’s David Whale -- he came in to visit Alton Vines.
:: Shelley’s attention snapped to the screen. Of course. Now that she was actually looking, of course it was David. And she should have recognized Vines, he supposed, but he looked so much older than she remembered. Vines had been the chief engineer of the USS Ackerman and had been one of only three people to survive the disaster. He and Whale were the only two still among the living today. ::
Otumbé: You all right, Fiona? You look-
Intercom: Doctor Otumbé, please report to Central. Repeat, Doctor Otumbé to Central.
Otumbé: [...] it. :: beat :: Sorry, I’ll make this as quick as I can.
:: Shelley offered her friend a sympathetic smile -- she knew what hospital life was like, she understood -- but Otumbé wasn’t even fully out the door when Shelley returned her attention to the screen. Then she began looking around for the audio button. The mental health ward at SVH had always monitored the visiting rooms -- they had to in order to make sure nothing was said or done that would agitate the patients (or worse) -- so she knew there would be a way to listen in on- Ah. There it was. She hit the button. ::
Whale: ...inking about it a lot lately.
(( Visitation Room ))
Whale: I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.
:: He sighed and looked across the table. Alton Vines -- formerly Lieutenant Commander Alton Vines, chief engineer of the USS Ackerman -- stared blankly at the shiny white tabletop, little comprehension or recognition in his eyes, his mouth slack, with a tiny little string of drool hanging from his lip. ::
Whale: Wondering what my life would have been like if it hadn’t happened. What it would be like if I could go back now.
:: If it was possible, Vines seemed to have gotten even worse than when Whale had last seen him three years ago. Though he would only have been in his mid-sixites, the man was haggard and pale, his hair -- which had been greying and receding even back on the Ackerman -- was now nothing more than a few pathetic white whisps. As he sat in his wheelchair, slumped forward, he looked positively ancient. ::
Whale: Frell it, I don’t know. :: pause :: I don’t even know if you can hear me or if I’m just talking to myself.
:: Sighing, he rubbed at his face with both hands. ::
Whale: We had some pretty good adventures, didn’t we? We had the best ship in the fleet -- hell with what Kirk said about his old bucket, the Ackerman was always the best of the Constitution Class. You made sure of that.
:: Maybe it was his imagination, but Whale thought he may have seen a slight twinge of recognition from Vines. Maybe the infamous pride of an engineer was still in there somewhere. But then again, maybe “the old days” wasn’t the best topic of conversation. Despite surviving the Ackerman Event, Vines had been horribly scarred, emotionally, and had almost entirely shut down from day one. While Whale had lost a great deal due to the tragedy, Vines had lost so much more. He’d lost his wife of thirty-five years. He’d lost his three grown children. He’d lost his four grandchildren. When he woke up in the 24th century and learned they were all gone, he’d had a breakdown from which he’d never recovered -- and from which he was never expected to recover. He was a permanent resident of the Starfleet Veterans Hospital and when he finally left, it would be in a box. ::
Whale: But the ship I’m on now is pretty good, too. USS Constitution. Galaxy Class. Big bugger -- three times the size of the Ackerman, easily. Engineering covers three decks. You’d love it.
:: No response ::
Whale: Sorry, I’d give you specifics, but you know how I could never remember anything engineering-related? Yeah. Well, I haven’t improved any in that area.
:: For a moment they just sat in silence, Whale watching Vines for any sign of comprehension and Vines staring blankly at nothing at all. ::
Whale: I really wish you could give me some kind of sign that you can even hear me. ::pause:: Life’s been very... complicated. Very complicated lately.
:: Sighing, Whale leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. ::
Whale: I just feel like I can’t even catch my breath anymore. I almost get killed every time I take a frelling step. I’m so... I don’t know. So out of it. So disconnected. All these people I’m working with, they have all these shared experiences, they have fist-hand knowledge of planets and aliens that we hadn’t even made contact with yet in our day.
:: He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. ::
Whale: I feel like a gorram anachronism. I don’t belong here. Never will.
:: There was still no reaction from across the table, aside from a small twitch of the upper lip. ::
Whale: And I can’ go back -- I can’t go back in time and resume my old life. :: pause :: I can’t go back and I can’t move forward. So what hell am I supposed to do, Vines? What the hell am I supposed to do?
:: He looked to Vines, hoping for something -- for anything -- but the broken old man just continued to sit there, his breath rattling in his chest. ::
Whale: Niou-Se, I don’t even know what I’m doing here.
:: Another sigh; another long moment staring at the wall, his shoes, the table -- anything but the broken remnants of a man seated in front of him. Why Vines was essentially a vegetable while Whale himself was fine -- well, “fine” was a relative term, wasn’t it? -- was anyone’s guess. All kinds of counsellors had put forward all kinds of hypotheses -- some even got published for it, the self-aggrandizing turds -- but Whale found all of their reasons far too complicated. They were all engaging in intellectual [...]ion. The real reason Whale came out of the Ackerman Event was the same reason it happened in the first place -- a cosmic toss of the frelling dice. It was luck. ::
:: Pushing his chair back, Whale stood. there was no point in continuing this. Whale was pretty much the only one in the room. ::
Whale: I’ll come by to see you again next time I’m in town.
:: Which would probably be in another two years. ::
:: Shaking his head slightly, Whale began to head out, but as he passed Vines, something brushed his hand. And then he felt a grip -- weak, frail, but a grip nonetheless -- on his left hand. Looking down, he saw the terribly thin, pale fingers of Alton Vines wrapped loosely around his own. ::
Vines: ...Whale.
:: The voice could barely be considered a whisper. It was like the sound of sand flowing through the neck of an hourglass -- just a soft, rolling rasp. ::
Vines: ...don’t...
:: Frowning, Whale knelt beside his former crew mate. ::
Whale: What? Don’t what?
Vines: ...feel guilty. :: pause :: ...for surviving.
Whale: Vines, I just feel-
:: The grip tightened momentarily. ::
Vines: ...shut up. Grown-ups are talking... :: pause :: You have a second chance, Whale. Make it count.
(( Observation Room ))
:: At some point during the exchange, Shelley had found herself fighting back tears. All the horrible things she’d thought about Whale over the past sixty days, all the nasty things she wanted to say to him... none of them seemed to really matter that much anymore. She’d been here at the SVH when the Ackerman survivors had been brought in, but she’d only really ever dealt with their physical injuries. Yes, she’d known there would be some psychological trauma, but the DEPTH of that trauma... she hadn’t even understood it in Whale, a man she considered such a close friend. ::
Otumbé: Okay, sorry about that. We can... Fiona? What’s the matter?
:: Quickly wiping away the tears, Shelley turned to her friend and smiled. ::
Shelley: Just remembering some things. I’m fine.
:: Otumbé nodded and glanced up at the monitor, where Whale was still kneeling beside Vines. ::
Otumbé: You know, I took a peek at his personnel file. He’s a Lieutenant Commander now, Whale is, and he’s survived quite a few crises. :: beat :: If I believed in god, I’d say he had an angel watching over him.
:: Shelley just forced a smile. ::
Otumbé: God or not, SOMEONE loves that guy.
Shelley: Yes...
:: She flicked another glance at the screen. ::
Shelley: Yes. Someone.
===============================
TBC
-
Welcome back all!
Well, here in Australia things are recovering from a series of fires and floods throughout the country, by and large. Fortunately I was in none of the affected areas.
The weather where I am has been raining non-stop for about three weeks, but it's finally clearing up.
-
((FltCapt. Sidney Riley's Quarters, USS Independence-A))
::Night brings darkness...that was one thing about space, there was always
darkness. The Terran/Deltan sat with her legs pulled up on the couch, her arms
around them and her head resting on her knees. Her eyes were closed, but she
wasn't anywhere near asleep. A single tear ran down her left cheek and dropped
unceremoniously onto her leg. A few moments later another escaped her eye lid
and repeated the process, like the drip of a faucet you would leave on so the
pipes don't freeze in the winter.::
::Cold, that was another word for space. Cold, dark and lonely...::
::She opened her bright green eyes, in the darkness they looked a melancholy
forest green. She looked over to Belleau's room. The door was cracked open and
a small stream of light from the nightlight encroached upon the darkness like a
sword, slashing at the shadows. Belleau would be fast asleep, besides, she
couldn't unload her thoughts to a child.::
::Childhood was a special time, one of magical worlds and fantasies, often
shattered by life on a starship and the hardships of space. Still Belleau
deserved her childhood, she didn't need to hear of adult troubles, of lives lost
and of the empty loneliness the Terran/Deltan felt in that moment. So many had
died again...again...that was the word. Usually when things were repetitive
they got easier...not this...not death. With each passing, each mysterious
disappearance...they ate away at the soul taking little pieces with them.::
::Moving her legs quickly she stood up, embracing the darkness surrounding her.
She walked over to replicator, the lights of the machine casting even more
shadows around her.::
RILEY: Hot chocolate with Irish Cream.
::A soft hum filled the room and the mug appeared on the shelf. Taking it
lightly with both hands she held it up to her nose, drinking in the smell of the
delicious liquid. She took a small sip and turned back towards the window, back
towards the stars. After a moment she noticed a flashing light coming from the
computer monitor.::
RILEY: oO How long has it been since I checked my messages?Oo
::She walked slowly over to the monitor and called out.::
RILEY: Computer, bring lights up to half illumination. Access personal
messages for Fleet Captain Sidney Riley.
::It only took a moment before the messages appeared on the screen. Her eyes
scanned the long list of reports, and fell on three messages, one was from
Maharet, her half sister on Earth, the other from Shannon. Sidney practically
rolled her eyes. Shaking her head she looked back at the screen. The other was
from Lieutenant JG Alleran Tan.::
::Sidney took in a sharp breath. She'd heard Alleran was on Devinon V, working
and attending counseling sessions. She had heard his progress was good.::
RILEY: Computer access message from Lieutenant JG Alleran Tan.
::The message appeared on screen, but it wasn't what she expected. This was
more like art, a picture of two famous Starfleet officers and what appeared to
be a hand written message.::
((Begin Message))
TAN: To the Independence, Humans have the strangest customs, but this one I
find to my liking. I hope everything is going well for everyone on the
Independence - life on Devinon V (or as we like to call it, Nisel IV) is proving
to be as interesting as I had thought. The work is hard, but it keeps me busy.
My understanding is a gift is appropriate for this particular celebration. I
have one picked out for most of you, but they'll have to wait until I return
before I can pass them along.
Merry Christmas to you all, and I hope that 2388 brings us a relief from the war
and strife that have plagued us this year.
- Alleran Tan
P.S. Eggnog tastes GREAT - how do you make it?
((End Message))
::Sidney couldn't help but smile. They had passed the holidays...two weeks of
time they had lost in the distortions. It was something they couldn't get back.
She sat back in the chair and simply stared at the screen.::
RILEY: oO Should I write him? He wouldn't want to hear from you and you know
it...friendship simply isn't possible...Oo
::She sat there for a long moment debating inwardly what to do. Should she?
Should she not? Would it hinder his recovery? Would it be inappropriate?::
::Minutes passed...then several more.::
RILEY: Computer, compose written message to Lieutenant JG Alleran Tan, Devinon
V. Dear Alleran...
::Pause.::
No...erase that...start over...
Hello Lieutenant JG Tan. It was great to hear from you. I and the Independence
crew thank you very much for your Christmas wishes. I do believe this is the
first Christmas card I have received in years. I too wish you the best for
2388. I hope you are doing well on Devinon V, I wish you the best in your
recovery and hope you may one day rejoin the Independence and her crew.
Your Friend,
Fleet Captain Sidney Riley
Computer, end message...and...No wait...add...
P.S. You don't want to know how they make eggnog...
Computer end message...
:She paused and watched the blinking message on the screen. Taking a deep
breath she finally spoke.::
RILEY: Computer send message, two hour delay...
::The screen blinked and Sidney was once again staring at the two messages from
her family. Maharet and Shannon. Maharet's message would contain information
about the Riley family back home...Shannon's... well, there really as no telling
what would be in Shannon's message. The Captain sighed.::
RILEY: Computer access message from Shannon Riley.
::Quite suddenly the screen filled with the image of Sidney Riley's twin sister.
She looked distressed and quite tired. A concerned expression crossed Sidney's
features.::
SHANNON: Sidney, I'm sorry to bother you...::She sniffled.:: Look, you don't
know how sorry I am...but....but I'm in trouble and I need your help. I need to
come back to the Independence. You've got to let me come back. I'm okay...I'm
on Deep Space 17...but you've got to pick me up when you come back here. I'll
explain then.
::The image blinked out of existence and Sidney tilted her head...::
RILEY: @&*@#^% Computer, video message to Shannon Riley.
::The screen blinked again.::
Shannon, it's me. Look, you need to tell me what is going on. I'm out here on
a special orders and I can't get back to the station right now. You're going to
have to hold out until I can get back. Look, send me a message and let me know
what is going on. I'll do everything I can. I love you, Sid.
Computer, send message.
::The message was sent and she reached up pushing the hair away from her eyes.
Shannon was always melodramatic. It was probably nothing...most likely it was
nothing and she'd be fine until they could get back. Still the message unnerved
her, especially since the last time they had talked Shannon had swore never to
talk with her again.::
::Sidney reached over and took two sips of her hot chocolate with Irish Cream,
setting it down she accessed, the message from Maharet. It wasn't what she
expected...by a long shot.::
::Maharet looked like she was distressed and was miserably trying to hide it.
The image was one she had no seen in years. Maharet was strong and never
worried. The image paused and then the woman with the reddish skin began to
speak.::
MAHARET: Sidney! ::Her tone was bright and obviously forced.:: It's been so
long since I've talked with you...really too long. I'm sorry...things got busy
and you know how things are with the family. Everyone wants to hear about you.
I hope things are well.
::Maharet took a deep breath.::
I'm sure you can tell there is a reason I'm contacting you...I don't want to
distress you, but I thought this was important enough to contact you.
::Another long pause.::
A Bajoran woman, ummm....Fortaine Morielle, showed up yesterday asking about you
and Belleau Dioron. It seems she is related to Belleau and she has paperwork
saying she was to be Belleau's legal guardian. I know you went through
Starfleet for the adoption, but she's threatening to take whatever legal action
she can on Bajor unless you surrender Belleau to her when you arrive back at
Deep Space 17. She plans on being there when the Independence arrives. I don't
have much more information Sidney. She wouldn't leave anything with me. But you
need to look into this, for Belleau and for your sake.
::More distressing looks and silence filled the screen.::
I'm sorry Sidney, I wish I didn't have such bad news. I just couldn't let you
go without knowing and then having that woman show up when you got back to the
station. I wish the best. I love you dear sister. Always, Maharet.
::The image on the screen disappeared and Sidney simply stared at the screen for
more than a few moments. It wasn't possible. The adoption had been done
legally through not only Starfleet, but through the official Federation agency
that dealt with both Terran and Bajoran adoptions. It took several moments for
Sidney to realize she wasn't breathing. She looked over to the door and the
light streaming into the darkness. Belleau was asleep, she couldn't worry
her...magical worlds and fantasies would be shattered soon enough...perhaps one
more night to dream...or maybe a few more.::
TBC...
Fleet Captain Sidney Riley
Commanding Officer
USS Independence-A
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Voted.
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It always surprises me how few people participate in the voting...
Me too- but I always vote! I always make a point of never voting for myself though, mostly because there are just so many very talented writers in the fleet... this time I haven't decided who I'll vote for yet. I'm inclined to vote for Whale's sim, since it's Whale and therefore awesome, but I'll have to reread and review them.
Fireflies is still something I had fun writing though, for my part at least.
Since it's a JP, I might be convinced to vote for it since MacKenna is awesome. -
Glad to see we're getting some varied responses... that was the plan, after all.
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Woo hoo- welcome to the fleet, all four of you!
Cheers,
Alleran Tan/Radi Rais
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Hi all,
Hope everyone enjoys the topic! I specifically 'went broad' to see what people could come up with.
Looking forward to people's stories!Cheers,
Tan/Rais.
-
IC
Riley: =/\=Negative on leaving the ship Lieutenant, I don't want anyone out
there with those distortions until we determine what they are.=/\=
Townson: =/\= But....Captain?=/\=
Riley: =/\=You and Kobylarz suit up and look for wounded in or near the hangar
bay=/\=
Townson: =/\= Understood. Townson out. =/\=
::Tracey looked towards the Chief Tactical Officer, who had also heard the
message from the Captain, and shugged. The two then headed to a nearby storage
unit and removed two EV suits and put them on. Tracey tested her com setup with
Lieutenant Kobylarz then they headed back to the sealed door. Through her
helmet, Tracey spoke.::
Townson: =/\= Any ideas as to how to open this door Lieutenant?
Kobylarz: =/\= We could always just manually open the door. Pry it open. =/\=
Townson: =/\= Good thinking Lieutenant. =/\=
::The two got to work and within a few minutes the doors parted open and a rush
of the air within the corridors was being sucked into the hangar bay. If Tracey
and Lieutenant Kobylarz were not holding onto the edges of the doorway, they too
would have been sucked into the hangar bay, and possibly into deep space,
through the gaping hole in the hull which stared them in the face.::
::Without warning, through the corner of her eye, Tracey noticed a human in
normal StarFleet attire fly by and round the corner into the hangar bay. It was
a human male. Tracey flung her right hand out and grabbed the ankle of the man
as she held onto the doorway with her left. But the body of the man was flailing
and Tracey was losing her grip on the doorway. The gloves of the EV suit were
not designed to stick to anything. So, within a few seconds, Tracey lost her
grip.::
::While sliding along the hangar bay floor, still firmly holding onto the ankle
of the officer, and heading for deep space, Tracey looked desperately for
something else to grip onto between her spot and the hull breach. With her free
left hand, she reached out to a nearby shuttlecraft and this slowed their
progress. But it didn't stop it. Her gloved left hand was sliding across the
hull of the shuttlecraft.::
::Meanwhile, Tracey could feel that the flesh of the man, under his pants, was
becoming firm, much like an icicle. Tracey looked up, for the first time, at the
now blue, frozen face of the man and not only noticed the frozen look of
surprise on it, but she also recognized the face.::
::With her com unit still on, Tracey screamed the word...::
Townson: =/\= NO!!!! =/\=
Kobylarz: =/\= Townson! respond you ok your suit ripped talk to me=/\=
Townson: =/\= ITS SEARGENT MAHLOR! I CAN'T LET HIM DIE AGAIN! =/\=
::Tracey's worst nightmare was happening in front of her eyes. She made a
terrible mistake by not scanning the corridors before opening the hangar bay
doors. And once again, by acting without thinking, Tracey was once again going
to be responsible for the death of Gary Mahlor. The same way she felt
responsible for Seargent Gary Mahlor's death from her universe of origin, once
again Tracey, due to her lack of foresight, would be responsible for the death
of Ensign Gary Mahlor in this universe.::
Kobylarz: =/\= Again? you sure you don't have a rip in your suit are you losing
O2? =/\=
::As she slid along the side of the shulttlecraft, to her horror, Tracey could
now feel her grip on Ensign Mahlor's frozen body now loosening, as the pressure
of the air blowing in from the corridor began to wane. Tracey was hoping she
bought enough time to keep the man from being lost into deep space. But the hull
of the shuttlecraft was only so large and Tracey had passed it. She was now,
once again sliding quicker towards the breach with the frozen body of Ensign
Mahlor leading the way.::
::Even though, in the part of her brain which was still processing reasonable
thoughts, was telling her that Ensign Mahlor was more than likely dead by this
time, Tracey still felt a strong drive to try her best to keep him onboard this
ship. By this point, the body Tracey was holding onto was no longer flexible,
but more like a block of ice. And with her free left hand, Tracey grabbed
another part of the same ankle. But even with both gloved hands on the ankle,
Tracey was still losing her grip. So Tracey, with her left hand on top of the
right, yanked off her own right glove and quickly gripped the Ensign's ankle
with her bare hand.::
::Focused primarily on her grip, Tracey could see the blood vessels bursting and
her hand turning blue. At close to zero degrees Kelvin, the first 2 or 3 seconds
the pain was unbearable, but afterwards she had lost all feeling in her hand, as
well as control. For her hand was now frozen to Ensign Mahlor's ankle.::
::Tracey looked up at the gaping hole into deep space, which was inches now away
and she saw a few other bodies floating in space. And Tracey realized that she
was headed out there too.::
Oo I'm not going to let you go alone this time Gary oO
::Tracey closed her eyes and waited for the inevitale. And then she heard a huge
crash as her arms were yanked down by the force of gravity, and her progress
stopped. Tracey opened her eyes to that of the shimmering hue of the force-field
and she then looked down at the shattered body of that which was once Ensign
Mahlor, while still gripping the ankle of the man.::
::In anger and frustration and sadness, Tracey flung herself down and landed on
her own frosen hand. Much like that of Ensign Mahlor, her hand shattered into a
million pieces as tears of anger and sadness welled up in her eyes.::
Riley: =/\=Riley to Lieutenant Townson.=/\=
::Tracey sat up and crossed her legs in front of herself, as she tried to get a
grip on herself. She tried to remember where and when she was as she rocked back
and forth trying to comfort herself.::
Oo You are a StarFleet Officer. You have sent thousands to their death in your
career fighting the Dominion. This is no different. oO
::Tracey repeated the words in her head over and over. But this was different.
This was not a war. This was a meaningless, avoidable death.::
Townson: =/\=T..Townson here. J...just to let you know, C...Captain. The
f...force-fields are reengaged.=/\= ::with sadness in her voice.::
Riley: =/\=Lieutenant, I want you to immediately implement your former plan. You
and Kobylarz are going to scout and lead the ship through this mess.=/\=
::Looking down at the stump where her right hand used to be, and which was now
beginning to melt, as drops of blood began to appear, and then to the now
melting pieces of Ensign Mahlor.::
Townson: =/\=Yes Captain. Townson out.=/\=
::Instinctively she reached for her belt, as the pain where her hand used to be
got worse. But she quickly realized that in this universe, the belts were not
equipped with pain-killing medication that could be released directly into the
body.::
-TBC-
Lt. Tracey Townson
Chief of Operations
USS Independence-A
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Well, I've just sent my final edition of my story for the writting challenge of this month. Do you think it'll be any other before the 31st? It's been a time since I've posted in the writting challenge, let's see how it goes.
Lt. Cmdr. Marcus Dickens
CSO / Second Officer
USS CHALLENGER
NCC-12886-A
Great stories all around. Congratulations are most olive-branchely extended!
Let's do it again!
There's usually a bunch of last minute entries.
Good turnout this time though! -
Welcome! We're glad to have you here
Woo hoo- welcome to the fleet, congrats on graduating!
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I thought you couldn't have open tags in a submission.
I don't know if you could or not! *sobs* I don't know, okay?! :'(
Hehe. Okay. When the tags are filled out, I'll post a new version in this thread.
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((USS Victory, Deck 9, Katy's Office))
::It had been the toughest meeting of her Starfleet career so far; she'd had
to say things that she hated hearing come out of her mouth. She had not
dared hope for the level of support she'd received from both men, and it was
making her a little emotional. She did her best to stay in the moment, the
better to ensure that she held together through the remainder of the
meeting.::
Orman: Questions, gentlemen?
Rais: Only one. Are the Romulans going to be solely confined to Deck 9?
Moving the armoury should be easy- I can get offduty helmsmen, along with at
least a couple of Operations officers to help with that- it's just grunt
work. Heck, some of them could use a little exercise.
Orman: ::steepling her hands in front of her as she leaned back in her
chair:: I am going to recommend that they be confined to 9, plus the cargo
bays. I might be overriden, but that's the plan. I think it's safest for
all that way.
Shepard: As soon as you make assignments of crew quarters, I can begin the
move out of Deck 9. In the mean time I can help move security.
Rais: And... what about our failsafe, ma'am? If there is a large scale riot?
I was thinking... I was thinking of an anesthetic gas. Problem is... if we
have sick, injured, elderly- it'll probably kill them. But the same dose...
well, a healthy young adult female or male will probably be able to still
function. Alternatively, we can crank up the gravity- to much the same
result, unfortunately... forcefields work well, but if there's a stampede
they'll just get crushed...
::He shut his eyes. Katy noted with approval that he seemed very unhappy
with the means he was suggesting, but was willing to offer them up anyway.::
Orman: Let's consult with Medical on the gas idea. ::she stared into the
air near one of the top corners of the office for a moment, considering.::
Perhaps they can come up with a breathable sedative that would be broadly
safe but effective.... ::looking back down at Radi:: My, preference,
though, is to use a low dosage released if things get heated; dosed not to
disable but to make them sleepy, sluggish. A riot can flare very strongly,
but it needs fuel to keep it burning, and if we pinch the fuel hose, so to
speak, I'm thinking it should burn out quickly as well, before it gets too
much inertia.
:: Radi nodded. ::
Rais: And... as long as we're not at warp there's also the option of
selectively venting parts of the deck to space. Decompression renders a
typical humanoid unconscious in thirty seconds to a minute, and brain damage
sets in at five... we have six transporter pads, six seconds per
site-to-site transport, that's one per second... a max of one hundred and
eighty people in three minutes, with a minute to spare. Not a bad idea as
long as there's not too many...
::Anger flashed in Katy's eyes for a moment, but she reminded herself of the
situation and that Rais was trying to help and it faded.::
Orman: The normal mammalian response when faced with sudden lack of oxygen
is to try to hold their breath. Trying to hold your breath in a vacuum
causes severe lung trauma. ::she shook her head:: No. Not unless there is
absolutely no other way.
::Her eyes once again stared into the corner as she pondered.::
Orman: Again, we'll have to check with Medical on this, to find out Romulan
hearing range and volume tolerance, but loud noise can be an excellent
weapon of deterrence; one that won't cause any dangerous injury. Some might
sustain injury to their eardrums, but we can treat that with no permanent
effects. ::she shrugged, a little bitterly:: We've got all these speakers
everywhere so the ship's computer can talk to us, we might as well use them.
Rais: There's also provisioning for up to a thousand extra crewmen. Space
will be at an absolute premium and it will affect us, too... I've heard
horror stories from the USS Tiger. They shipped a huge component of the
command staff and support crew from Starbase 118 to Deep Space 17, over
three times the standard crew provision, cooped up for three months straight
at high warp... no stops. They had people quartered in waste reclamation, in
the shuttle bays, in the shuttles, torpedo rooms... everywhere. These were
Starfleet personnel, too, not civilians... by the time they got to us at
Deep Space 17 they were stir crazy. You'd think the ship was about to breach
its core the way they just poured off it... and then, less than twenty four
hours, the Vaadwaur attacked and the whole [...] ship became a giant
lifeboat-slash-hospital with far too few doctors to treat the injured.
::Katy was quiet for a moment, then looked the man in the eyes and spoke up
with a certainty in her voice that she wished she felt inside.::
Orman: That's not going to happen here, Radi.
Rais: I know, ma'am. The crew of this ship are the best Starfleet can
offer... we can handle a thousand or so Romulans.
::Katy knew better, but didn't want to say it any more than she imagined he
did.::
Rais: ::with a shrug:: That or die trying, I guess.
::Scott spoke up at that point, and Katy turned to regard him.::
Shepard: What I do suggest is to have regular patrols throughout Deck 9
simply to maintain order. Security members are trained for this, they can
handle everyday police work. I also propose an aide on Deck 9 as a base of
operation for Deck 9 security giving refugees a place to go to call for
help, get food. Also we can talk to medical to have a small presence as
well. We have to also think about disease. I know medical is working on the
prevention of that. One more thing, I suggest lightening up on security
patrols until we get to Romulus and schedule riot trainings.
::She hadn't thought about that aspect much. She nodded slowly.::
Orman: Yes, you're right. Every single member of Security should have riot
training fresh in their mind, just in case. ::she frowned thoughtfully and
shifted her weight:: Let's also replicate some riot gear and have it on
hand in the... umm, in wherever the armoury ends up. I agree with your
recommendations about deck 9 as well... as long as we manage to keep them
from overfilling us. 500 is the magic number. If we get loaded up with any
more than that, I don't want anyone but Romulans on that deck, period.
We'll seal it off with plenty of access to the necessities of life and keep
the deck sealed, if possible, the whole trip. With that kind of numbers
it's too dangerous to allow the possibility of a riot spilling out onto
other decks.
::She sighed quietly and leaned forward, putting her elbows down on her desk
as she propped her chin up on her hands and regarded the two men sitting
across her desk. Doing her best to let the gratitude she felt show in her
expression, she spoke to them both.::
Orman: OK, we know what to prepare for now. Let's get it done. Dismissed.
Rais/Shepard: response
Orman: No sirs, no ma'ams. If we weren't already comrades, we certainly
are now. Call me Katy. And once we're through with this I'm buying you
both a drink.
Rais/Shepard: response
::Katy watched them leave, and watched the door for a few minutes afterward
in silence. Then she stood and stretched, surprised at how stiff her joints
were. She went into her lavatory and watched her reflection in the mirror
for a minute. What she saw didn't make any sense.::
oO She looks like such a nice person. Sweet, even. Not the sort who would
ever, could ever tell hundreds of people that they have to stay behind and
leave them to die. Not that sort at all... Oo
::She had only a few moment's warning, enough time to buckle, hand
reflexively held over her mouth, and move a few feet over to hunch over the
loo as she lost the contents of her stomach.::
::When it was over a few minutes later, she stood with great care and
flushed. She took a minute to wash her face and rinse the acrid taste from
her mouth, and then she went back to her desk to keep working.::
oO Not that sort at all... Oo
TAG Rais/Shepard
Lieutenant Katy Orman
Chief of Security
USS Victory
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Alleran will you send me that Kanye photoshopped support pic... it made the year for me. Literally the funniest thing I've seen in a while. I laughed in a very geeky way.... it doesn't happen that often.
Hehe, you mean the original Photoshop files? Yes, of course! Drop me a private message and I'll pass 'em along.
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And thanks, Radi - don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on you
Whee!
We have to find a way to JP sometime! Tan is coming back eventually- he'll wanna chat!
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Hooray, welcome to the- wait. Darren Shan? o_O
Anyway... welcome, Sienae Lyndsay... and welcome back, Darren Shan!
And Thelev's active again! Yay!
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Thank you Mister Tan
Though you shouldn't lie to people -- I do write the occassional "fecal" sim.
I stand by my original statement.
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The vote is public to avoid ballot stuffing
Makes sense.
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Doctor Fiona Shelley
Currently on Leave
http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Shelley,_Fiona
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(( Earth - White Rock, British Columbia ))
:: The sleepy coastal town of White Rock was swathed in a cold grey mist that was rolling in from the ocean. The mighty Pacific had been angrier than usual this winter, so it was no surprise to Doctor Fiona Shelley that the beach, especially crowded during the summer tourist season, was entirely deserted. ::
:: Leaning forward, resting her forearms on the balcony railing, Shelley looked out over the quiet street and beyond that the empty beach and beyond that, the grey wintry waters of the Pacific Ocean, its small whitecaps crashing onto the sands. Everything looked grey in the early-morning mist, the could cover too heavy to allow the sun to break through and burn off the fog. It had been a relatively temperate winter in White Rock and Shelley was happy to have been able to spend time here with family. Her father Norman, himself a retired physician, had bought the three-level house with its oceanfront view here in B.C. just prior the death of his wife in 2378. She’d grown up in the small town of White Rock and Norman had wanted the last months of her disease-ravaged life to spent in a place she loved, away from the hospitals and doctors who really couldn’t do anything for her but keep the pain manageable. And he could do that on his own, in the comfort of their home. ::
:: Shelley tucked a stray lock of strawberry blond hair behind her ear as a slight smile tugged at the corners of he mouth. Her mother had loved those final months. Fiona and her family had spent a great deal of time here in White Rock during that time, as had her younger sister Regina and older brother Johnny. Despite the circumstances, it had created a lot of fond memories... and it seemed that after her mother had passed away, everything started to go downhill. It was only a year later that Shelley’s daughter Anna had died and two years after that her husband Rick Souray had accepted a deep space assignment with Starfleet, putting a huge distance between them. ::
:: She sighed again. And of course, that had led to her giving up her fairly prestigious civilian position as Assistant Director of Emergency Care at Starfleet Veterans Hospital for an enlisted position in Starfleet. It was supposed to be a way for her and Rick to spend time together, but an administrative foul-up had seen her assigned not to the ship on which her husband served, but to the USS Tiger. Which, of course, led to her becoming acquainted with one David Whale... ::
:: For the third time, she sighed. ::
Regina: Hey. Thought you might need this.
:: Shelley turned at her sisters voice and forced a smile. Regina had always been the “wild child” of the family, but in the last few years, she’d changed so much. She’d become the kind of sister Shelley could confide in and it had been quite the relief when she found that Regina was going to be around while Shelley was on leave from Starfleet. ::
:: Shelley took the steaming mug from her sister, the rich smell of the coffee already warming her up. ::
Shelley: Thanks.
:: Taking a sip, she smiled. ::
Shelley: Dad is right -- he makes coffee so much better than a replicator.
:: Regina laughed. ::
Regina: What a shock, Dad was right about something. :: pause :: Have you heard anything yet?
Shelley: Yeah. Apparently there’s some kind of probably with the Constitution’s warp drive -- I don’t have to report until they complete repairs, which doesn’t look like it will be until the new year.
Regina: So you’ll be here for Christmas?
:: She smiled and nodded. ::
Shelley: Looks like it.
Regina: The kids will be thrilled to hear that. You know how much they love their Aunt Fi!
:: Taking another sip, Shelley chuckled. Her niece and nephew were good kids, but had almost limitless energy reserves. Spending time with them was exhausting. She had a hunch they may have been powered by dilithium. ::
Regina: And... this guy you mentioned...
:: Shelley quickly turned back to the ocean view, avoiding her sister’s gaze. ::
Shelley: David.
Regina: Yeah, David. He sounds like a good guy.
:: Shelley kept silent. ::
Regina: And he serves on the Constitution now, you said?
:: [...] it. She should have know Regina would make the connections. Whatever differences Fiona and Regina had had over the years, Fiona had always known and been willing to admit that her sister was extremely bright. And at the moment, Shelley kind of wished she wasn’t. ::
Shelley: Yes. He transferred there a little while ago.
Regina: Just before you did.
:: Closing her eyes, Shelley took another long sip of coffee, feeling the liquid warm her insides and hoping the caffeine jolt would hit soon. She hadn’t been sleeping very well. ::
Shelley: What’s your point, Reggie?
:: Taking a sip from her own mug, Regina sidled up beside her sister to share the view. She shrugged. ::
Regina: I don’t have a point, just making conversation.
:: There was a long, long pause... ::
Regina: Does he make you happy?
:: Shelley snapped her head around to stare at her sister. ::
Shelley: What?!
Regina: Does he make you happy. This David guy -- are you happy when you’re around him?
Shelley: I don’t... I just... Reggie, I...
Regina: Fiona, I’m not judging. :: beat :: The other night, when we were talking, when you were telling me about the things you’ve done in Starfleet, the things that involved David... you were happy. You were smiling -- the kind of smile I remember seeing on the OLD Fiona. I haven’t seen you smile like that -- I haven’t seen you HAPPY -- since Anna died.
:: Reaching up, Regina smiled sadly as she brushed a windblown strand of hair from her sister’s face. ::
Regina: Fi, that means I haven’t seen my sister happy in eight years. :: beat :: When you joined Starfleet, I thought you were an idiot, giving up a great job here on Earth to live in one of those space-faring tin cans. But now? I think it was the best decision you could have made.
:: Shelley swallowed heavily. She knew there were tears welling up in her eyes. ::
Shelley: I’m just scared, Reg. I just... I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know which way is up, I don’t know which way to turn...
Regina: That’s how I spent my twenties. Dont’ worry, Fi, you’ll figure it out. You always do -- that’s why you’re such a great big sister.
:: Shelley closed her eye for a moment, then downed the rest of her coffee. ::
Shelley: I hope so.
Regina: Look, I’m going to go make some breakfast. You hungry? Pamquakes?
:: Shelley nodded and smiled. For some reason -- probably some childhood mispronunciation that caught on -- the entire family continued to refer to pancakes as pamquakes. ::
:: Regina disappeared back into the house and Shelley turned back to the sea. ::
((Starfleet Veterans Hospital - Emergcy Care Ward)) ((Stardate 237911.06 - Eight years ago ))
:: Doctor Shelley arrived just as the three survivors of what many people were calling ‘The Ackerman Event’ were brought in on anti-grav gurneys. None were conscious. The CMO who had been caring for the patients in the seven days since their discovery was there and he stepped up to Shelley with a curt nod. ::
Mohinder: Doctor Shelley, I presume. Doctor Asad Mohinder, USS Robert Peel. You’re read my latest report?
:: Shelley smiled briefly. ::
Shelley: Doctor Mohinder, it’s good to meet you. Yes, your reports have been a great help. Impressively detailed. :: pause :: There were… just the three?
:: Mohinder looked at the floor. He was clearly saddened by the answer he had to give. ::
Mohinder: Yes, just the three. All bodies have been identified. The entire crew has been accounted for.
:: Shelley nodded. It was a sad, but necessary part of a doctor’s job to deal with death. Soemtimes it was an expected death – an elderly person succumbing to the ravages of age – but all to frequently, it was what Mohinder had encountered. People struck down in the prime of their lives. She tapped her padd to bring up some information. ::
Shelley: Alton Vines, age fifty-eight. Tina Thoresson, age twenty-four. David Whale, age twenty-eight. Are any of them lucid?
Mohinder: Mister Whale comes and goes. The other two have been sedated.
:: She nodded, then brought up Whale’s medical history, then waved over Nurse Barlan. ::
Shelley: I’d like to see Whale first.
:: The nurse nodded and led Shelley and Mohinder to one of the private rooms the hospital staff had prepared for the Ackerman’s survivors. It was a bit of a shock at first to see the man lying there, still wearing a uniform Starfleet hadn’t worn… well, certainly not in her lifetime. But the most surprising thing was that the man – Whale – whose Starfleet medical records said was twenty-eight, still LOOKED twenty-eight. ::
Shelley: Amazing. Born over a hundred years ago, but…
Mohinder: But he hasn’t aged a day since the ship vanished.
:: The two doctors glanced at each other, then bent close to their patient as he began mumbling. ::
Shelley: I can’t make it out.
Mohinder: Sounds like… jee ahn… Gianna? A name?
:: Frowning, Shelley placed a hand on the side of her patient’s face and leaned over him. His eyelids fluttered and it appeared that he was looking at her, but she couldn’t tell if his eyes were focusing. ::
Shelley: Mister Whale. David. Don’t worry, David, we’ll take care of you. ::pause:: Can you hear me?
:: But his eyes had closed again as he drifted back into unconsciousness. ::
(( White Rock - Present Day ))
:: Shelley wondered how she would have behaved that day if she’d known how intertwined her life would become with Whale’s when the encountered each other again aboard the USS Tiger two years ago. At the time, those eight years ago in the SVH, she’d thought she was treating just another patient. But now... now Whale was a friend, to be sure, but not just a friend. There was more there, she knew there was, but she was also still furious at the man. As much as she cared for him, the hurt he’d caused was still very raw. ::
:: When she finally reported for duty aboard the Constitution, she would confront Whale. He owed her some explanations for what he’d done. ::
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OH GOD THEY'RE TIED AT SIX VOTES EACH!
It's nailbiting!
*whispers* To provide cadets with good examples, characters to bounce ideas off and other things, sometimes experienced writers in the Fleet are asked to ghost-write cadets to make up the numbers. 
There were five cadets in my academy class, but only two of them were "new" characters! Hush hush though!
Oh wow I am surprised that only 3 of us got through, I felt for sure we would have had 4!
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You guys are gonna rock whatever ship you each end up on!
2011 Writing Challenge Discussion
in 2011
Posted
Oooh, interesting! I'm looking forward to this.