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Renos

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Everything posted by Renos

  1. Congratulations and welcome to the fleet!
  2. I remember that moment too. XD haha! As for my characters they all have something from me in them, it's usually something different and often I don't even realise what it is until after playing them a while. I often create character to explore a specific idea of concept, even my first PC Evanna Blackwood had one - I just didn't have the skill at that time to write about it as skillfully as I could now. For example: * Dominic Gray was my experiment with a corporate psychopath. No one ever knew he was a psychopath IC and the only ones that ever found out OOC did because I told them about it. That experiment was avery interesting and went more or less how I thought it would. He is likely to get taken off the shelf in the future. * Percival Maxwell was only meant to be a shot shot deal just to inject some humour into a serious plot we were doing on the Avandar but was such a hoot to play and got such a good reaction I ended up keeping him around and borrowing some traits from him to create my PC Reinard down the line. * Renos is of course my current PC and a member of an androgynous race who is genderfluid (something that is deeply frowned upon in J'naii society). Rather than be subjected to Psychotectic Treatment ne fled to the Federation and has lived a pretty successful life - too much so perhaps as the bounty hunters have finally caught up with nem.
  3. Congratulations to you both! It's great to have you both here and I wish you many happy and exciting adventures!
  4. ((Surface, Planet PR-652)) ::It was oh so dark, and eerily quiet. Maxwell Traenor stood alone among the trees, lost. He had abandoned Kurt Logan to a drone horde, had abandoned Brell and Randal Shayne inside the weapons installation, and despite his efforts to get to the shuttle to rescue them, he was now helplessly lost.:: ::A breeze started up, whispering through the branches and brambles that reached their skeletal finger out to rake his flesh, murmuring secrets that hovered just on the edge of comprehension. His imagination heard the voices of Logan, Shayne, and Brell in those whispers, crying out in terror and dismay over his betrayal and abandonment. Frustrated and frightened, Maxwell shook his head to clear the voices and stared wide-eyed and unseeing all around in the pitch blackness.:: Shayne: Now you want to leave it here on this rock. ::Ringing out clear and loud as the peal from a bell, the helmsman's voice reached Maxwell's ears and caused him to whip around. Where before he was blind, now he saw the clearing opening up before him in an ethereal light. Highlighted in the center of the clearing was Randal, with a petite Borg drone beside him. Randal had his arm draped over the shoulders of the drone. Protective, perhaps? But his scowl said otherwise.:: Traenor: Lieutenant! You escaped the structure! Where is Brell? Shayne: I understand your concerns, sir. ::In Shayne's free hand was a large dagger, glinting in the ethereal light. But Maxwell paid it no heed. Eyes agog, he was staring at the drone. Beneath all the Borg implants, despite the grey skin, the drone was unmistakable. It was his niece.:: Traenor: Eden?! Eden, is that you? What happened to you? ::He made to run forward, sweep up his beloved niece and cradle her, comfort her and smooth her patchy hair despite his own anguish, and promise to do everything in his power, turn the universe inside out, to fix her and restore her and to...save her. But Shayne brandished the dagger menacingly, waving him off, then brought it up to Borg Eden's throat.:: Shayne: ::sarcastically:: There's too much risk. The drone stays behind. Prepare for transport. Traenor out. Borg Eden: Afraid! We...am...I...are...We are afraid of I. And I are afraid of We! Make it stop! Traenor: ::failed attempt to placate:: Hush, Eden! Yes, I will make it stop! ::pleadingly to Shayne:: I was wrong, Randal. That was not the right choice. But we can fix this! I have changed my mind, and we will save her! Brell: She is unstable. Sir. ::The Bolian officer had appeared off his left shoulder, and his quiet words made Maxwell jump. He turned, begging to Brell, trying to impress on him the veracity of his will and desperate desire to save his niece.:: Traenor: Please, Brell, please, help me convince Randal to spare her! Brell:: Move her to one of the other camps. That way she will be... *spared*! ::Brell broke out into malicious laughter, as if he had just said the most ridiculous, hilarious, patently untrue thing in the world. Tears starting to fall, Maxwell made to move towards Shayne again, but with a snarl he jerked the dagger ever closer to Borg Eden's throat, dimpling the tender skin there.:: Shayne: ::mockingly:: Is the drone independent? Are you absolutely certain it cannot and will not pose any risk to this shuttle or the Darwin? Traenor: Yes, yes, a million times yes! I will forfeit my life if you just spare my dear Eden! Logan: They're not part of the collective, Commander. ::Now Kurt was here too, appearing off his right shoulder. Maxwell turned his pleading gaze to the Security officer, knowing that the man was reasonable and sympathetic and amenable to his guidance. His eyes, his expression, his posture, his very soul pleaded to Kurt to assist him in saving his niece. Slowly shaking his head in the negative, Logan pointed at Borg Eden with his phaser rifle.:: Logan: ::slow, with finality:: Close the hatch. ::As if it were a pre-determined prompt, Shayne affected a ghoulish grin and drew the dagger deep and clean across its target. Borg Eden's one remaining eye shot open wide, and a pathetic gurgling voice issued forth as the skin of her face turned from a mottled grey to a pallid white.:: Borg Eden: Help. We are afraid of I. And I are afraid of We!... Help... ::And then she was gone.:: ::Traenor fell to his knees, howling his grief and anger for all the cosmos to hear, while the three men of his Away team stared at him impassively. Red-rimmed and tear-filled eyes glared at Shayne as Maxwell balled his hands into impotent fists.:: Traenor: You killed her! YOU KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I... I killed her? I killed her. Shayne: ::with a simple smile:: Well, no, sir, not as such. But I think that she's okay now. Traenor: NO!!! ((Personal Quarters, Deck 6 - USS Darwin-A)) Traenor: NO!!! ::Maxwell flung himself to an upright seated position in his bed, breath heaving heavily and heart beating a staccato arrhythmia fit to burst in his chest. Drenched in a cold sweat, it took a moment for his vision to stop swimming, and he saw Barque perched beside him in a submissive crouch. The poor dog gave an uncertain whine, licking his master's arm in an attempt to calm the obviously agitated man.:: Traenor: ::voice slurred from exhaustion and emotion:: S'okay, Barque, s'okay, boy. Just another bad dream. ::Maxwell absently patted Barque, before rubbing his eyes vigorously. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in days, and he was absolutely bushed. Nightmares had plagued him since the conclusion of the last mission, and though he had thought they would abate after a few nights, they were actually worsening. He wanted to lie back down and try to sleep again, but to do so would only invite more bad dreams, and besides, they had arrived back at Outpost Unity. Today, Renos was welcoming esteemed guests from the Alpha Quadrant, and Maxwell needed to prepare for his part in hosting them. But, there was two things that he needed to take care of, that he could not afford to put off any further.:: Traenor: Computer, prepare a message, translate into text, and send to Sickbay. Commander Traenor is requesting a surgery date to finally correct a persistent knee injury, all the details are in my medical file. Please advise me of an appropriate time. Sign and send. ::big pause:: And computer, prepare a second message, translate into text, and send to Mr. Stennes' office. Commander Traenor is requesting a counseling consult. Events of the previous mission have been causing me adverse psychological effects. I fear you'll need to set aside a couple appointment blocks please, at your earliest convenience. Sign and send. LtCmdr Maxwell Traenor - First Officer, USS Darwin NCC-99312-A Top Sims Contest Facilitator =/\= Graphic Contest Taskforce A239111MT0
  5. ((SSC Deimos Station, orbiting Deimos, Sol system - stardate 239303.11)) ::It was 0758 hours and Lieutenant Commander Jonathan "Bullseye" Rusk walked down the corridor of Starfleet Starfighter Command’s primary orbital facility in the Sol system, Deimos Station. The huge space station orbited the smaller moon of Mars, and housed the majority of the pilots and fighters in the system. It was not only used for defense, but for training of pilots, and R&D and maintenance of fighters.:: ::He had walked this corridor everyday for the last two and a half years, so now the spectacular view of Mars out of the transparent aluminum hull wall to his left didn’t even register in his brain. He reached his destination, the Pilots' Briefing room, and the doors swished open and closed around him. The lighting was a little darker in here, and the noise level was certainly higher. The assembled pilots were chatting amongst themselves while they waited for Rusk to arrive. He strode to the front dais and set his assignment PADD down on the podium in front of him. He looked up at the assembled group. Nova Burn, the best fighter pilots in the quadrant.:: ::He waited patiently at the podium for the room full of Starfleet pilots to settle down a bit before he started his briefing. This briefing was going to be a little different from what they were used to. Normally these TRBs (Tactical Readiness Briefings) were light and full of joking around while still covering relatively serious topics. Teasing each other about their flying capabilities while discussing a CAP (Combat Air Patrol) was very routine, and not even discouraged by the pilots' senior officers.:: ::Today's briefing was going to be a little different, though. Today was going to hold a momentous announcement...at least for the pilots in the briefing room, including himself. He cleared his throat. The thirty-two pilots assembled in front of him slowly stopped goofing around and turned to face him.:: Bullseye: Thank you. We have a couple of items on the agenda today. First off, once again the Mars Defence Perimeter has officially requested that our pilots refrain from high speed manoeuvres within their airspace without prior authorization. I believe, Streak, that is directed towards you. ::There was a general outburst of laughter and agreement. A twenty-something human male with a blonde buzz-cut had a huge smile on his face.:: Streak: Sorry, boss. It won't happen again. ::Rusk waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. He knew the next piece of news was also going to elicit an outburst from the pilots assembled in front of him. However, it was not going to be a jovial one, but one of resentment and discontent.:: Bullseye: If I may continue? Next up is a reassignment. ::The collective groan.:: Juno: For whom, commander? Bullseye: (pausing) For all of us. PILOTS: “What?” “To Where?” “Whose bright idea...” Bullseye: If I May?! ::waiting for the clammer to subside:: Starfleet has a new outpost that’s going to need our protection. Kaali: Where this time? Bullseye: Pouiyeog Region. ::pause:: Delta Quadrant. ::There were more groans from the pilots. The Delta Quadrant was far from everyone’s home. Many of the pilots were human, and from Earth. Being in the Sol system allowed them the comfort of seeing their families. And even those not from Earth were usually close enough to their home systems. Bullseye: We’ll be ferried there by a Cutlass class, the USS Avalon. We have been chosen to serve as the senior fighter squadron on the outpost, and to mentor and train other Starfleet and non-Starfleet personnel, to whip them into an elite fighter wing. ::One of the pilots from the back of the briefing room piped up.:: Geech: Or at least to keep them from getting themselves killed, right CAG? ::The raucous laughter returned to the assembly. Even Rusk had to smile. Geech was considered the joker of the wing, a role he thought he excelled at. Often he did, but sometimes he tried the humor angle at inappropriate times. He’d almost been written up for insubordination on more than one occasion that Rusk had needed to smooth over.:: Frosty: What’s the mission profile, sir? ::Finally. The serious question. And leave it to one of the most naturally gifted pilots Rusk had ever seen. Francis “Frosty” Hilton was able to do things with a fighter that most pilots could only dream of. His kill ratio was currently the highest in Starfleet fighter pilot history, and he had made full Lieutenant by the tender age of 21. Frosty liked to have fun as much as the next guy. Just inquire about his bar tabs and one-night stands. But when it came to his job, he could have tunnel vision. His focus was incredible. Which was why Rusk had singled him out to be in charge of the flight training. Frosty just didn’t know that yet.:: Bullseye: It’s not a unique situation, but you’ll all find the details interesting. Outpost Unity is built on the surface of a Dyson Sphere. Goldrush: A what-now? Sparkle: A Dyson Sphere. A massive, usually hollow sphere whose diameter is the size of a planetary orbit. Takes huge resources to build and a very advanced technology. Ballista: At least someone was paying attention in astronomy class. ::More laughter from the group.:: Bullseye: Quiet down please. ::pause:: Thank you. The Outpost has two primary goals. The first is to study the alien culture and tech that built the sphere. The second is to establish a forward base in the Delta Quadrant to further political relations with the friendlies there. As such, the outpost is jointly run and occupied by Federation and friendlies. The pilots that will be filling out the rest of the wing will be some Starfleet, and some friendlies. Frosty: Will they, at least, be pilots? Bullseye: With the friendlies? We’ve requested that. But they’ll still need some flight time in our birds to get acclimated. From Starfleet? Probably not... ::Another collective groan from the assembled.:: Bullseye: ...with a notable exception. ::The group quieted to hear the news. This had been a major score, in Rusk’s opinion.:: Bullseye: Starfleet has pulled Lieutenant “Buck” Rogers out of retirement. Turnstyle: He retired? Gopher: Again? Geech: Third time’s the charm, right? Bullseye: Seeing as how there are known unfriendlies in the region, I’ve decided to split us up. We’ve been given three squadrons of Crossbows, two squadrons of Lancers, and our squadron of Hawkeyes. Our pilots and TSOs will fill half the Hawkeyes, and you’ll train to fill the other half. We’ll also fill the first squadron of Crossbows, take the principles of the second and train wingmen, and Lieutenant Rogers and trainees will fill the third. Sparkle, you’ll take a squadron of trainees to fill one Lancer group, with Amazon as your wing, and Sweetheart, you’ll take trainees to fill the other Lancer group. Pharaoh will be your wing. Questions? Trigger: Who are the unfriendlies? Bullseye: The Numiri. You’ll get a full briefing on board the Avalon. She should arrive at the outpost in about a month, so there’ll be lots of time to prep. We ship out in 72 hours. Pack it up and kiss your mommies goodbye. Dismissed. --------------------------- as presented by Lt. Cmdr. Varaan Chief Engineering Officer USS Darwin-A, NCC-99312-A Serial: V237810V10
  6. ((Cybenetics lab 2, Deck 7, USS Darwin-A)):: Valdivia observed the works, PADD in hand, trying at the same time to draw some conclusions from all of it and to avoid jumping into them without enough information. ::Valdivia: Chief science officer log, supplemental. Stardate 239304.10. As reported, our last mission has brought some new insight into the Borg, but also some moral situations that are not easy to address. After the cloud of nanites requested asylum, the away teams, amongst other things, recovered what looked like the machine used to create said nanites. After some study, the nanites are not simply Borg nanoprobes but an evolved version of that. After gaining sentience, they decided to flee the Borg, and the drones tried to stop them, leading to the current situation. :: Valdivia sighed, thinking how to continue. A scientist approached with a new PADD and Valdivia checked it. The blueprints of the machine, as read by the sensors in the cybernetics lab. They confirmed what they thought about the nanites. :: Valdivia: Let it be known that the morality of this whole situation leaves me uneasy. I know these are the Borg, but let's imagine for a moment that they weren't. Let's imagine we found a humanoid species whose immune systems gained sentience and the means to leave, and they went on a strike. The two parties requested Starfleet help. :: He wasn't sure where he was going with this, but it had been bugging him, He mentioned it to Renos, and ne was open to discussion, but the borg drones attacking them were a bit more closed to it. :: Valdivia: Now let's see, the immune system is now a sentient being, and they have every right to feel enslaved. So their request for asylum makes sense. On the other hand, granting it could probably end with the humanoid species completely extinct. So... what should Starfleet do? I have no idea. And, does the fact that the humanoid race happens to be one of the most feared mass murderers in the galaxy change any of this? No idea, either. :: He looked up at the force fields. A scientist and an engineer worked on the machine while a total of five people, Valdivia included, checked from outside for safety and support. Currenly the engineer looked puzzled at a commbadge he had just found inside the machine. :: Valdivia: Oh, that's mine. I used it to help get a transporter lock on the machine. :: He noticed several sets of eyes aimed at his chest. :: Valdivia: I... happened to acquire a new one. Anyway, pass it through screening to check it's safe before I take it back. :: The few seconds of surprise passed and everyone returned to work. :: Valdivia: Computer, erase last sentences and resume recording. The morality problem even gets worse. As said, this humanoid race, namely the borg, are one of the most feared and dangerous species in the galaxy. But we theorize these new nanites have the ability to modify other nanoprobes to the new model (side note: we believe that to be the reason they left the whole Borg group and not just a few selected drones. The intact ones were probably isolated at the moment). Therefore, if a handful of these nanites were to make it back to the Collective... would it be considered genocyde, poetic justice, or just self defense? Are these nanites to be considered a biological weapon of the ones we so harshly ban? I have no answers to any of these questions. And it does not fall on me to answer them. :: Reflecting, several silent seconds passed and he walked around the forcefield looking at his people work. :: Valdivia: Anyway, back to the report. The machine we found. Computer, record the following part in a secondary file and attach it to Fleet Captain Renos as a report. :: He cleared his throat, adding a more formal and scientific tone. :: Valdivia: Preliminary report. As the machine arrived to Cybernetics lab 2 at 1614 hours, it was set behind two level ten forcefields to eliminate the possibility of any kind of borg nanites, be it nanoprobes or building nanites, to be still present within the machine and invade the Darwin. However, scans did not detect any such nanotechnology and it was deemed safe to work with. It stayed behind the forcefields nonetheless. The scans confirmed field theories that it is a machine used to build nanoprobes. However, it was clearly modified on site, as some of the pieces have a higher concentration of germanium that the rest, which is also present in the planets soil. These modifications are coherent with the new model of nanoprobes, or should we say just nanites, present in the sentient cloud. That makes the conclusion that the Borg willingly modified them take force. The problem is, why? The facts are, these modifications basically cross a nanoprobe and a building nanite, with increased communications capacity. And nearly twice the size, although that's still viable through the systems of most humanoid species. Now, wild guess. The Borg needed building nanites with the adaptability of nanoprobes. Building nanites supposedly follow plans, while nanoprobes must adapt to individual systems. They needed the building nanites to improvise. To be able to rebuild the vinculum from nearly scratch. They needed CREATIVITY. And that sparked the new intelligence on the nanites. :: That all made sense, although it would still have to be confirmed. But some preliminary info was needed if they were to take a decision on the current situation. :: Valdivia: However, there is a missing spark. According to all I know of robotics, this shouldn't be enough to give place to sentience. I must admit my defeat in that area, and I hope that whoever looks at it further can find an explanation. I will look further in the meantime. End of log. Send report to Renos. :: After that Valdivia, feeling a bit frustrated, nodded at the people working on it and left the room. He needed some rest before coming back to it. :: TAG Lieutenant John Valdivia - Chief Science Officer - USS Darwin NCC-99312-A Department of Veteran Affairs D238701JV0
  7. Congratulations and welcome to the fleet! I really loved simming with you both and hope you continue to do well and enjoy yourselves here!
  8. Congratulations to you both! I really enjoyed simming with you in the Academy and wish you many happy adventures on your new ship.
  9. Renos

    Round 7 Praxo, "Aftermath"

    ((Almost a month back, Talaxian Shuttlecraft, crashed on the sphere)) ::It might sound like one of Praxos usual exaggerations, but he actually had never lost a shuttle or any other craft due to an accident. Sure there were more close calls that one could count, and none of the Talaxian’s craft was decommissioned without dints and scratches, and it preyed on his ego that he not even knew what had happened.:: ::He reached out with his right hand to open the details on the most concerning alert on the touchscreen, when a horrible sting of burning pain filled his whole arm.:: Praxo: Ouch! ::The universal translator wasn’t able to translate the following curse:: I guess my arm is broken. Good thing we have a Doctor on board. ::Opening the message with his other hand:: But we have more pestering problems. The structural integrity field will hold this pile of junk together for another 20 minutes or so. You can never tell with that system. ::Praxo had to sit down as the pain became overwhelming:: Any suggestions? Shayne: I'd suggest getting out of this shuttle. Praxo: oO That sounds like a good idea Oo Manius: I need a doctor and I’m not the only one. Let’s beam out of here, there’s nothing more we can do. The Frenix can recover the shuttle once we’re gone. Shayne: I second the motion. :: Looking at his two students, or now ex-students, Praxo realised that he got away with the least serious injuries, notwithstanding the fact that he was not sitting on a chair while the crash had happened.:: Praxo: Go ahead, get us out of here. Manius: =/\= Lieutenant Manius to the Darwin. Three to beam up. Please advice the Frenix to receive Praxo and then beam him there. Beam myself and Shayne to the Darwin’s sickbay. I have potential back injuries to please ensure I am immobilised. =/\= Icavoc: =/\= Got that Todd Manius. Please stand by for transport. =/\= ::Praxo prepared himself to be beamed over. He later didn’t remember if he was beamed to the Darwin first and then to the Frenix or if they sent him directly to the Talaxian ship, but he ended up there, receiving the appropriate treatment for a broken arm.:: ((Present day, Government Office Building, Talax II)) ::Praxo was searching his way through what seemed like kilometers of corridors full of busy people, or people who pretended to be busy. He was invited for another hearing, presumably the last one, where the results on the investigation of the shuttle accident were supposed to be announced.:: ::While the incident had summoned a huge interest of the planetary media, as soon as every so called expert was interviewed and every theory was proposed and falsified again, it was obvious that there was nothing to gain from the story anymore. The press moved on to the next shocker and the still ongoing meetings could be hold in much smaller conference rooms.:: ::Some individuals tried to make this a major issue that would impact the relationship between the Federation and the Talaxians dramatically. But as most diplomats are more reasonable than lurid headlines and even the people themselves showed a surprising sense for the truth, those attempts weren’t particularly successful, and headlines like „Federation officers injured while inspecting Talaxian craft - Diplomatic relations endangered“ were exchanged with „Talaxian technology gets cut from the plans - Do they want us off THEIR outpost?“.:: ::Praxo was pleased to see that the committee stayed reasonable as well and quickly discovered that there in fact was no evidence for pilot errors, nor instruction failures on his part.:: ::When he finally entered the room, he found the same friendly atmosphere that prevailed since the cameras and the reporters were gone. It was a working-together, everybody was here to resolve the mystery and to make sure that something like this does not happen again, rather than blaming someone. Clearly, the spirit of the Federation had influenced this council already.:: ::Normally, Praxo found these meetings quite a nuisance, since nothing new was announced time and time again, but this one, he was looking forward to. It served as the perfect excuse for not attending the opening ceremony on the outpost, where he inevitably would have met Shayne and Manius again. He cared for them, since he felt he was partly responsible, and tried to keep track of their well being as good as possible, but he’d rather not confront himself with them.:: Chairwoman: ::Knocking on the table:: Good evening, Ladies and Gentleman. Thank you for attending this hearing, even though some of you might had to decline an invitation to another big event for this. ::As this meeting was not at all mandatory to attend, Praxo was quite sure that everybody who wants to go to the ceremony was at the ceremony, except the chairwoman herself, maybe.:: Chairwoman: So let us make this quick. I want to catch the speech of Madame Brixon. Mr Rix, head of R&D at TalaxTwo Space Industries for those of you who don’t know him, will present the report of the internal investigation of said incident. Rix: Thank you, Madam. ::A quite short man pushed back his seat and walked to the head of the conference table. Then he was setting up some slides on the view screen that should support his findings, but they were really badly made and nobody actually looked on them.:: Rix: After a thorough analysis of the data of the flight recorder as well as a examination of the crash site and the wreck, we came to the following conclusion: The shuttle crashed after a failure of four port side thrusters. They were completely destroyed when the shuttle entered the hole, but we believe they were technically functioning correct. Praxo: oO But they weren’t, or else we wouldn’t be here… Oo Rix: They didn’t fire because of a software bug that was introduced in the most recent update that included the CCI, aehm, the Custom Control Interface. It is based on the Federation LCARS and allows the pilot to arrange the controls of the main flight display according to his own preferences. The error occurs only when the exact layout is used, that unfortunately was used during the crush. Control inputs were not routed to the right hardware components, which inevitably led to a loss of control. We of course have already automatically disabled the feature on all craft with the current update and working on a solution for the problem. Chairwoman: Thank you, Mr Rix. ::Although no-one was blaming the man for what had happened, he returned to his seat like a beaten dog. Praxo wouldn’t be surprised if he had just presented the finding that would make him loose his job, or at least his position.:: Chairwoman: I think we owe TTSI for their honesty in this report. I am asking now our independent review board for their take on these findings. ::Another man stood up and took the place from Mr Rix.:: Man: Thank you, Madame, Mr Rix. We found no evidence that TalaxTwo Space Industries has tampered with their report. We also agree that the software was not released prematurely, although the release process was clearly expedited to finish it in time for the exact flight that led to disaster. ::A few other people got the chance to speak afterwards, but Praxo didn’t follow them. He was quite angry, since a software bug in a, in his opinion, rather useless system caused the accident that ended his tutoring program, and not only injured himself, but also two Federation officers who had absolutely nothing to do with all that. Not to say that one of them was someone Praxo had high respect for.:: ::Later, even Praxo himself was asked for some words to wrap everything up, but he for once thankfully declined an offer to speak in front of an eager audience. When everybody was leaving, he approached the chairwoman.:: Praxo: Madam, excuse me, Madam! Did you hear anything new about the condition of Mr Manius. Chairwoman: Ah, Mr Praxo. You know as good as I do that the Federation has policies that forbid sharing the status of patients. All I know is that Mr Manius is still in medical care. ::It was the same response as always. He went home to his apartment near the main space port of the planet as quickly as possible. His wife wasn’t there, as well as all of the children that were still living at home. So Praxo had time to think about everything that had happened since that faithful day.:: ::He knew from the first day on that it wasn’t his fault, and he also strongly doubted that it was the one of Mr Shayne who was at the helm at the time. It wasn’t his nature to feel guilty for something he wasn’t responsible for, but he still felt bad about it, mainly because his praises of the technology that later would fail them completely.:: ::The pilot exchange program was obviously cut and he picked his old work up, being a shuttle pilot for all sorts of delivery, which at this point were mainly building materials for the new outpost. He thought about moving there, but he was told it was not easy to get an apartment during the initial phase of the project. Also, the Numeri threat was still lurking out there, it was probably safer for him and his family to stay were they are.:: ::He thought it was very concerning that Mr Manius was still not well. Knowing about the medical capabilities of the Federation, he always thought they could fix pretty much everything, what could only mean that the injuries must be very serious. The Talaxian hat thought a lot about the Human, even though they didn’t know each other, practically, at all.:: ::This evening however, Praxo was not only thinking, he finally gave in to the urge he felt for a very long time now. He started his computer and began typing a message.:: ::Dear Mr Manius…:: ((End)) ________________ MSPNPC Praxo as simmed by LtJG Isabel Pond Medical Officer USS Darwin-A D239212IP0
  10. Congrats to all those who were promoted! Well earned all round!
  11. Congratulations and welcome to the fleet. I hope you have many happy adventures here.
  12. Thank you Rich for all your hard work, you've done a wonderful job with this and the transformation is truly incredible. The entire section looks amazing!
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