Talos Dakora

If I didn't know what that actually was, it sounds like the kind of pop-up shop I'd want to go to.

Nothing about these demands seem unhinged or concerning at all. 😂

Congratulations Kivik and Ikaia! Both of these pieces were outstanding!

Do you work for the animation studio that does The Lower Decks or something!? This is great!

Welcome to the party! We're glad you're here!

I guess I should clarify that this is a digital entry. Programs Used: 3DS Max Substance Painter Photoshop Everything In the submitted image was hand modeled and textured by me EXCEPT the whiskey bottle. I was running out of time and found an existing model. 😀

Deck 05 - RM 0207 - Home Sweet Home *Edited title per contest rules. Sorry about that.

I'm equal parts concerned and impressed. Alternatively: TFW you want to get your monthly sim quota handled in one day.

I'd be similarly unamused 😂:

An outsanding two-parter from @Yalu and @Karrod Niac (( The Round Table, Deck 13, USS Excalibur-A )) Yogan didn’t come into places like The Round Table often. He enjoyed a bit of conviviality, but drink never suited him, so he preferred places like the mess hall, or the sidewalk cafes in the central square of Leran Manev near the Symbiosis Institute Complex. The Round Table, by contrast, was part after-work tavern, part anodyne lounge, and had a vibe to match. There was even a Romulan tending bar. As Yogan’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he found who he was looking for sitting at a table near the expansive floor-to-ceiling view of space. He ordered a glurtch from the bar and brought the drink over to the table where Karrod Niac was sitting. Yalu: ::sits down:: Thanks for making the time. Karrod looked at the man across the table over the top of his drink. He’d met Yogan ‘in body’ when he’d been otherwise occupied by Ensign Dakora and separately met Yogan the being when he’d been all but trapped in a cave with him, deep below the surface of Cytaris V. At least, Karrod mused to himself, all the pieces were back in the right place now. Their telepathic contact had given each an unusual insight into the mind of the other but Karrod had still been surprised by the suggestion that they chat. Niac: Not a problem, Mr. Ya…::A flash of memory made Karrod pivot slightly.:: Yogan. There something specific I can do for you or were you just looking to start a chapter of the Between Two Trills here on the Excal? I assume there’s…well, a few of us anyway. Yogan noticed Karrod hesitate when speaking Yogan’s full, Joined name. When in the body of Talos Dakora, Yogan almost felt like he was cheating if he still went by Yogan Yalu. Strangely, the experience of unwillingly reverting back to his pre-Joined self had him using given names almost exclusively, technically a violation of protocol. He appreciated Karrod’s consideration, even if it was a holdover from the body swap confusion. Yalu: I had Resolution’s crew manifest committed to memory–– Yogan hesitated, momentarily disquieted at having dredged up that particular unpleasantness. He recalled standing in the shuttlebay of the USS Carpathia, watching escape pods from the destroyed ship being brought aboard one by one and ticking the names of the surviving crew members off of his list. He stayed until there were no more survivors left to rescue, and each of the 115 names were burned into his memory even still. Yalu: But I haven’t had the chance to acquaint myself with everyone on the new boat. ::beat:: Besides–– ::taps temple:: with eight, now nine, people in here, and all that lingering telepathic stuff to process, I could stand a break from learning any new names for a while. Karrod couldn’t miss the cloud that passed over the younger man's face and put down his tumbler and padd. Niac: I understand your last ship was lost…first time? Yalu: ::nods:: I served on Resolution for over a year. I was part of the crew that returned her to active service. Place was just starting to feel like home. ::beat:: It’s still a bit raw, sorry. I was acting first officer when she was lost, and I still think about what could have gone differently if–– Well, just ‘if.’ Karrod nodded grimly and signaled to the bartender for another glass without saying a word. When the tumbler arrived Karrod poured a dram of his ‘private reserve’ scotch into each and raised his with strict solemnity. Niac: Losing a ship isn’t a small thing and the first time…well, it stays with you. To the Resolution…if her crew is any measure, I’m sure she was a fine ship. Yalu: ::raises his mug of glurtch:: I’ll drink to that. It was great that so many of us got to transfer to Excalibur together. I think it’s helped us all get over losing Resolution. And I’ll drink to all the officers and crew joining us, yourself included. Karrod nodded in thanks and, seeing Yogan deferred on the scotch, drank both drams. They pleasantly warmed his gullet going down although he had to suffer the objections of Rostil who felt grief was better toasted with a rich red Tellurite wine of a vintage he’d spend the next hour describing if Karrod gave him the chance. He didn’t. Niac: At least we won’t be parched. So, what did you really want to talk about? Doesn’t really seem worth holding much back between us, you’ve taken quite a wander around my brain. If you’ve got questions, ask. If I’ve got answers, I’ll give them. In the underground caves of Cytaris V, the three unwitting telepaths’ encounter with the alien orb consciousness had left each of them with fragments of the other two. Yogan was curious and a bit uncertain about the bits and pieces of Karrod he’d glimpsed. Yalu: I couldn’t help noticing that you have a–– ::beat:: complex relationship with Niac. I wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem appropriate with everyone else around. Karrod blinked at the question, snorted, then laughed out loud. His bark was deep and loud and long. When he stopped, he had to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. Niac:...complex is a particularly diplomatic way of saying I mostly hate the damn slug, but I appreciate it all the same. ::Karrod shrugged and poured himself another dram:: That said, I think Niac’s warming up to me. I’m definitely adhering to the edict I got from the stuffed shirts at the Symbiosis Commission - plenty of new experiences for that ugly little thing and I haven’t even been here a week. Now it was Yogan’s turn to blink–half-surprised, half-stupefied–by what Karrod had just said. He’d never met a Joined Trill who spoke about their symbiont with such characterful language. It was hard for Yogan to hear–he’d put his whole life on hold for years to earn the privilege of being Joined–and it also begged a half-dozen questions, first among them, “huh?” Yalu: The rest of your life is a long time to be stuck with a ‘slug’ you hate. I’m surprised you let Commander Morgan have her body back. Karrod snorted again and nodded somewhat sheepishly. Niac: Well trading four voices for eight hundred plus wasn’t exactly an upgrade as far as I was concerned, but I take your meaning. I know how hard you worked to make Yogan into…::Karrod spread his hands in haughty pantomime::..Yogan Yalu. I’d guess the idea of a Trill who isn’t honored by the experience is downright offensive to you. You wouldn’t be the first…I’ve been scolded by damn near everyone I know at this point. Yogan took a draught of glurtch to put some space between himself and the pressure to speak again. The lengthy quaff gave him a moment to think of what to say next, at the risk of leaving a glurtch-stache on his upper lip. Karrod seemed to be the type who preferred honesty over diplomacy, a quality several of Yogan’s past hosts–Zedro foremost among them–had in bounty. Yalu: Yeah. It does a bit. I know a lot of people who worked their whole lives for it, only to get washed out of the Initiate Program. It’s hard to think anyone could make it through the selection process who wasn’t on board with it. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Keroga, Yogan’s fourth host, had been “persuaded” by a Symbiosis Commission eager to Join renowned artists and public figures with symbionts. But that was over a century ago, and the initiative was such a failure that the Commission went to great lengths to downplay it in its own historical narrative. Yogan himself hadn’t known about it until he received Keroga’s memories. Niac: Oh then you’ll be twice as upset when I tell you I didn’t even go through the Initiate Program. I went on vacation to Trill for the first time in a few decades and ended up with the worst souvenir I could’ve dreamed up. Poor little Niac wasn’t doing too well and the Guardians said the only way it would thrive was in a host who was in Starfleet. Guess who has two thumbs and regrets checking that box on his travel forms. Karrod gestured derisively towards himself with both hands and shook his head. Niac: I got a week of badgering, then a week of counseling, then the slug. Afterwards there were so many blood tests and medical scans I think they would’ve saved time by just cloning me and keeping one behind, but I didn’t want to give them that idea. That was…hmm…about four months ago now. And, huzzah huzzah…it seems the Joining was a success. Karrod raised a glass in mock salute and drained it in one gulp. Yogan rested his hands on the table as he listened to Karrod’s story. He had heard of unprepared hosts becoming Joined out of necessity in extreme circumstances, but didn’t really believe that was a thing. He grasped at the few remaining wisps and fragments of Karrod’s memories from the orb encounter, trying futilely to recall anything that might either corroborate this story or reveal the “real” reason behind such a cover-up. He could get neither. Yalu: And you never wanted to become Joined. Never considered it? Never picked up a pamphlet or completed a questionnaire about it? Niac: Nope. Honestly, I always found it…so limiting. I saw so many people I knew throw away their lives…their talent and energy and passion…on getting a slug…rather than just...living. Just having a life of their own. I’m not sure when one life became ‘not enough’ for our people but it always bothered me, even when I was young. So I went my own way. Yogan was grateful to be having this conversation in his own body. If he were sitting across the table from Karrod in his erstwhile Betazoid rental, as Yogan Verso rather than Yogan Yalu, he might have found what Karrod was saying difficult to hear. Yogan’s seventh host, Eira, the Senator for whom lively debate was an art form as well as a job, moderated what might otherwise have felt like a personal attack on something Yogan worked hard for and was tremendously proud of. The “I wanted to live my own life” bit was usually what people said after they’d tried–and failed–to make it as an Initiate. To hear it from someone who never wanted it, but somehow got it, was a bit jarring. [END PART 1] Yalu: You’ve had a remarkable career in your own right. ::beat:: I read your service record–well, at least the bits I could access. Your one life has been extraordinary. Karrod nodded politely but the only thing he found especially extraordinary about his career at this point was that he had lived this long. Niac: Don’t go pulling an old man's leg, Yogan. Starfleet has a lot of remarkable in it. I’ve just managed to stick around a while and somehow still have most of my original parts. But, if you don’t mind a question…who were you before Yalu took up residence? You seemed to handle that runabout like you were born in it. Yalu: ::chuckles:: Not born in, but as soon as I could reach the controls. I was born on Earth, moved back to Trill when I was ten. That’s when I first learned about Joining–nobody talked about it when we were aliens living on another planet. It’s also when I started learning to fly. By the time I finished school, I had the equivalent of a Level 3 pilot’s cred. Karrod’s eyebrows rose in appreciation. A level three piloting mastery could be the work of decades for some and simply unachievable for others. To have gotten that far as a student was nearly unheard of. Yalu: But I actually went to university and trained as a doctor. Kept up with my pilot training throughout. ::beat, smirks:: They kind of got in each other’s way, and it took me an extra year to graduate. Then I applied to the Initiate Program, got in, and spent the next four years preparing to be Joined. Four years. Four long, difficult, tumultuous years. Four years of sleepless nights second-guessing everything he said that day. Four years of watching evaluators look down at their PADDs and take notes on him after every interaction. Four years of avoiding making friends because of the implicit threat of being washed out for reasons unknown. Four years to prove he was deserving of the privilege. And evidently, all he really needed to do was hang around by the loading docks behind the Complex and wait for a ‘slug’ to be tossed through the windows. It was a story Karrod had heard so many times before that he was almost surprised at how much it frustrated him anew. Horvu, Sencha, Armo and Rostil seemed nonplussed and that somehow only redoubled Karrod’s irritation. Niac: Let me get this straight. You were an expert pilot and a trained medical doctor…and rather than going and doing either of those incredible things, you decided to bust your spots for four years and undergo the most demoralizing and psychologically punishing training this side of Vulcan just for the chance at one of these things? ::Karrod poked his gut hard:: Why? Why weren’t you enough already? Karrod’s assessment of the Initiate experience was hyperbole, but not by much. It was hard. It was demoralizing at times. There were days when Yogan wanted nothing more than to just walk away. He was proud of his perseverance, and so were most of the Trill he knew. The fact that Karrod placed such little value in it was a difficult circle to square. Yalu: I was. Niac: You didn’t think so down on that planet. ::Karrod tapped his temple:: No lies between friends and countrymen, Yogan, and I’d like to think of you as both. Yogan bit his lip. Called out. Yalu: Becoming Joined was never about making myself a more complete person. It is about elevating the symbiont to the next level. A direct quote from one of the many required texts Yogan devoured as an Initiate. He believed in it, but outside of the Program, he’d never been called to account on it before. It struck him differently this time, and he stopped to take another draught of glurtch. It was starting to get [...]ly from having sat too long, and it didn’t go down smoothly. Karrod smiled sympathetically, the sound of a oft quoted slogan clear to his ear. The Symbiosis Commission may have even tried that one on him at some point although he’d largely tuned them out when he could. Yalu: Symbiosis is something unique to us. It is the most crazy, overwhelming, emotional history lesson any Trill could ever get. I have the lifetimes of eight Trill living inside of me all the time, and I see our world and our people through their eyes just as clearly as I do through my own. Yogan felt his energy rise, and not from the glurtch, as he spoke, becoming more animated with each word. Yalu: Because of me, and the seven who came before me, the ‘slug’ Yalu got to travel in space. Run a colony. Perform in the theater. Serve in the Senate. And the experiences I have will continue to exist in whoever comes after me. As far as Symbiosis was concerned, Yogan and Karrod were like opposite points on a compass, and it was hard to believe they were the same species. Yogan always found it difficult to explain Joining to non-Trill, but with Karrod, it was even harder. The answers he was taught to give seemed to ring a bit tinny between the two of them. Niac: Symbiosis may be unique to our species but there’s something else unique to our species as well. You. Yogan. The young man who loved to fly. The kid who began dedicating his life to the preservation of others when he should’ve been out having fun. Karrod finished his drink and could feel a heat rising in his cheeks. His voice hadn’t risen in volume but he knew it’s intensity had increased markedly. Niac: That’s the thing I think our people lose sight of when they go chasing after Joining. They forget that, all by themselves…they already matter. They don’t owe history or the Commission or the slugs a damn thing. And neither do you. Because, and I want you to remember this because I think it’s damn important, Yalu didn’t save our asses down on that rock. Yogan did. You were the first to make contact. You opened the door for Sherlock to pour her brain into that thing. Yogan deserves the credit…and the self-respect that should come with it. Far as I’m concerned, Yalu’s just borrowing what’s rightfully yours. Yogan recalled his recent conversation with Cayden Adyr, a fellow Joined Trill, on Risa, which was the antipode of this one in every conceivable way. So much between Yogan and Cayden didn’t even need to be said; they just knew they were of the same mind about these things. Karrod, by contrast, seemed to represent everything about Joined Trill that Yogan was not. Flashes of memory from Edanne, Yalu’s second host, roiled to the surface. No one in her village understood her after she returned home with the ‘slug.’ Yalu: You’re right. I did those things. Yogan did those things. Niac: Damn right he did and it’s good to know that, however many lifetimes of experience you’re carrying around, I’ve got Yogan with me on this ship watching my back. If Yalu can help out around the edges, great…but I’m not holding my breath for them. Yalu: You proved yourself on that planet, too, and I think I’m really going to enjoy serving with you. But–– ::beat:: just between us countrymen, I don’t need you to tell me who I am. I am Yogan and I am Yalu, and I am better for being both of them. Karrod smiled, broadly and genuinely, at the sudden spark of fire in the man's voice. Niac: No, you don’t, and I’m glad you remember that. You don’t need anybody or anything to tell you who you are or what you can be…so the next time you’re away from the slug…and if my remarkable career in Starfleet has taught me anything it’s that there will be a next time…don’t doubt yourself. I sure as hell won’t. See, I’ve got an advantage you didn’t have down there…I’m not used to relying on Niac. I was action-rolling out of danger for decades before I got Joined. I’ve only known them for a few months and there were still moments I was frustrated I didn’t have Sencha or Armo to chat with about big science words. You’ve had Yalu with you for a lot longer…I can only imagine how hard it was to have that ripped away. Honestly…I just wanted to make sure you were alright. That Yogan was alright. Yogan slid the mug of glurtch to the side of the table and grinned slightly. Karrod’s antipathy toward his symbiont was palpable, but Yogan took some comfort in the fact that he found some value, however miniscule, in being Joined. It didn’t seem likely that either man would be swayed from his position, but that wasn’t the point. They weren’t adversarial, just principled. Yogan appreciated this about Karrod, and it was this budding mutual respect that nudged Yogan to ask his most burning question. Yalu: You made it sound like you didn’t have much say in becoming Joined. If you were so against it, why did you agree to it? Karrod huffed and his lips pressed together. Niac: Would you believe me if I said I lost a bet? ::At Yalu’s withering look Niac shrugged.:: If you’d asked me that day I would’ve said something like ‘to get them to stop badgering me’ but that wouldn’t have been the truth. Well, not the whole truth, they really were incessant. The truth is…well...so you read my service jacket, yeah? Did you read anything about the past hosts? Yogan conceded the point with a nod. The Symbiosis Commission exerted significant influence not only over Joined Trill, but in general society. It stood to reason that Karrod, even with all his experience, might have buckled under the pressure. Even with four years of preparation for the omnipresent role the Commission would play in his life, Yogan frequently found it stifling. Yalu: Just enough to know they weren’t exactly blessed with good fortune. Karrod laughed forlornly. Niac: You’ve got a gift for understatement. Rostil, the first host, died sampling exotic ingredients and he’d been with Niac for around a decade. Sencha and Armo barely had that much time between the two of them and both came to unfortunate ends. ::Karrod poured himself a drink but then put the stopper back on the bottle.:: But Horvu…that poor kid. He…well, he was a lot like you, to be honest. Bright. Talented. Driven as all hell. He could’ve…should’ve had a lot more life than he did. But his ship got caught up in the Dominion War and… Karrod raised his glass in sad salute, the memories of Horvu’s last moments coming unbidden. The Exeter at red alert. The Captain calling all hands to battle stations. Violent explosions rocking the deck as he raced to his post. The jarring impact that kept him from ever getting there. Niac: The rest of the hosts had their chance as far as I was concerned. Bad luck, maybe, but they all had lives and accomplishments and a chance to…to be, for a while at least. Horvu didn’t. Poor kid had barely gotten his duffel unpacked when the end came. I felt like…felt like he deserved another shot. However I could give it to him. But…appreciate you keeping that between us. I’ve got a reputation as a grumpy old sod to maintain. Friends and countrymen, right? Karrod felt a warmth from the symbiote he’d never experienced before and got the strange notion that somehow, it was smiling at him. Probably a sign he was right to stopper up his scotch bottle before it got any closer to the bottom. Probably. Yogan listened to Karrod speak of Horvu Niac and couldn’t help thinking of Yalu’s wartime counterpart, Auzell. Twenty-five years had passed since the galactic war that changed everything, but Karrod, Yogan, and countless other Joined Trill still bore the weight of that terrible conflict on their shoulders. Other races built memorial obelisks and created cultural works to process their collective grief. Those Joined Trill who fought and died in the war would have their first-hand experience preserved forever in the minds of their successor hosts. Yalu: I think I understand. I’ve been Joined for seven years, and I still feel the pull of my past hosts’ desires and drives. I’ve even acted on a few of them. ::beat, chuckles:: Kind of explains what I’m doing in Starfleet, and why I’m on the command track. Yogan might have chosen this path on his own, but to say that Yalu wasn’t an influence would be a lie. Niac: I’ve noticed that myself…woken up in the middle of the night with the sudden desire to make Akamarian crepes, found myself wandering towards the nearest arboretum when I thought I was just taking a stroll and I think Sencha wants me to replicate something called an oboe which she insists she was just getting good at. Yogan laughed, delighted by the familiar tone and tenor of Karrod’s experiences. So they did have some things in common, after all. Even with all of his years of preparation, the first few months A.Y.–after Yalu–were immensely confusing and uncertain for Yogan. He could only imagine what Karrod would be going through with only a week or two to prepare for Joining. Yalu: Welcome to the club. Those surprises can actually be kind of fun, in the right place and time. ::beat:: Then again, they can also be super awkward. Keroga, my fourth host, was an actor in–– ::beat, affected tone:: the theah-tah. And to this day, when I step onto the bridge, part of me still wants to make a grand entrance. Karrod felt himself smiling more broadly than he had in quite a long time. Niac: Well son, I’ve got some pull with the ships Operations Officer…you want me to rig up a fog machine and some lights I think swing that. Besides, Commodore seems like she might enjoy a bit of vivacity from time to time. That firecracker she’s got as an XO…maybe less. Yogan thought briefly back to Risa, and his and MacKenzie’s visit to Harmadu’s Paint-Your-Own Horga’hns. Never before had the phrase, “Okay, what the hell is this?” been spoken with such brisk élan. Yalu: ::smirks:: Maybe just a trap door. Would really liven up those night shifts. ::beat:: You asked me, so I’ll return the sentiment. Are you all right? Is Karrod all right? Karrod began to answer but halted himself, a moment of introspection not finding the easy answer he’d expected. He could feel his brow furrowing and his response came slowly. Niac: To be honest…not really. Last few months have been tricky. I thought I’d be able to go back to my old life with a few extra passengers but that was impossible. I told myself I’d never serve on a starship again, but you can see how well that worked out. But…and this is the damndest thing…it’s getting easier. I forgot how good it felt to be with a crew. How much being part of one makes every member of it…better. I think I spent such a long time telling myself that I didn’t miss this…that I started believing it. All the same…maybe we could do this again sometime. Talking to someone who gets…::Karrod gestured towards his midsection but refrained from a jab or poke::..gets this...it helps. Karrod raised his glass for a final time. Niac: To Friends and Countrymen. Yogan fetched his mug, which contained the by-now unpalatable dregs of his glurtch, and raised it as well. It was worth choking down the stuff if they were drinking to a worthy cause. Yalu: To Friends and Countrymen. [End] Lt. Commander Yogan Yalu Strategic Operations Officer USS Excalibur NCC-41903-A Justin D238804DS0 & Commander Karrod Niac Chief of Operations USS Excalibur - NCC-41903-A Commodore Kali Nicholotti, Commanding V239509GT0

((Senior Officer’s Quarters, Deck 2. USS Rahuba..)) ((En route back to Starbase 118.)) Max was sprawled out on his bunk, the only discarded piece of uniform being his boots. He hadn’t even unzipped his tunic. He dozed fitfully, drifting between happy thoughts of spending time with Milly and melancholy-tinged thoughts of his father. It had been almost eighteen months, which was nothing in the scheme of things and he still found the tears came when he least expected it. Hauling himself from his bed, Max finally unzipped his outer tunic but left it on. He shuffled his way out of the bedroom and made for the tiny replicator in his small kitchen area. There was a trill from the computer, and Max ignored it. He didn’t want visitors, or to be disturbed at present. He’d found that when he felt down thinking about his father, the best thing to do was sit and watch old 20th century war films. William had loved those, and it cheered Max up to sit and watch something his father had enjoyed. The computer gave another chirpy trill, and Max rolled his eyes at nothing in particular. Maxwell: Computer, I don’t want disturbing the now. His answer was just another chipper little outburst. Max shook his head. Voice recording? Image? Text? Maxwell: I’ll play it later, right? Trill. If he didn’t know better he would have said the computer was sassing him. Turning to face into the room, he shovelled cereal into his mouth and began to chew. Trill. Maxwell: oO For f- Oo Alright, alright. Computer, what’s so important that you cannae leave me in peace? Computer: Incoming transmission. Well, yeah that was pretty obvious. Nope, that was it. He knew it! The computer was sassing him. Maxwell: Aye, so what? What’s the point ae origin? Who is it? Computer: Transmission originates on Betazed. The Ezo family villa. Max half-choked on his mouthful of cereal before involuntarily spitting the rest back into his bowl. For its own part in the proceedings, the bowl was literally tossed onto the counter, spilling milk and cereal over its sides as Max took a flying leap over the short sofa. Maxwell: Put it through! Accept the damned call already! The simulated tropical fish tank on the wall viewer melted away, to be replaced by red hair and a face that he had missed oh so very much. If his smile had gotten any larger he could probably have swallowed the entire ship. Maxwell: Hey you…. ((Ezo Family Villa ~ Betazed)) Mirra was tapping her nails nervously. Had it been too long? It had been far too long. She was an idiot. She should have reached out sooner, much sooner. Each unanswered "connecting...connecting" message felt like a thousand small papercuts. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to shut down the communication. Looking around at the sitting room that doubled as her sometimes office, she wondered how different her life would be had she stayed in Starfleet. Her eyes caught on a few crayon drawings that were framed. One was given to her by Tyva Dal, the adorable curly haired daughter of Ishreth. Below was another set of pictures framed. Little Milly. The equally adorable, total spitfire child of the man she was desperately trying to reach. She began absently twirling the end of her long braid between her fingers, lost in memory, when a new notification trilled to interrupt her reminiscing. "Call connected" Immediately she straightened up with excitement. Previous nerves completely dissipated as a very missed, familiar face shimmered into focus. Ezo: Hey yourself. ::her grin nearly split her face:: I was getting worried. Did I catch you at a bad time? oO Oh Gods...the time difference Oo ::brows furrowed in worry:: Oh no...is it the middle of the night there?? Maxwell: Bad time? He looked at her in confusion for a moment, before registering his lightly mussed hair and undone tunic in the reflection from the screen. Reaching up he tried - and failed - to smooth his hair down again before smiling again. Maxwell: You could never call at a bad time. ::He pointed a friendly finger.:: Braid suits you. With that she grinned. Although he looked exhausted, it was still a beaming shining light coming through. That, or she just really missed him. Ezo: If you say so. ::smirking:: The stubble suits you as well, if you’re going for the “Scruffy Starfleet officer” look. Max scratched at his beard with a sheepish grin. Maxwell: How are you? What have you been up tae? Any boys I need tae warn off? So many questions, so much to catch up on. He found himself grinning again as he looked fondly at Mirra, blindingly aware of just how much he missed her. And how giddy he was at receiving a call from her. Ezo: ::laughing:: Oh they are well aware of what they got into with me. ::devious grin:: And besides, no warning in the world would have worked. What about you? ::brightening:: How is Milly? Growing like a weed I assume? Maxwell: Well, you need any chasing off, you let me know. ::He grinned.:: Aye, she turned ten last month. She’s always up tae something. He went on to relate the beach days and trips out with Ishani before her transfer, Milly’s bunbun hunt through the vents and shafts with Tyva, her rapidly growing interest in botany and the increasing amount of time spent in Lauren’s flower shop. Her classroom capers and the day she somehow managed to get herself into the conference rooms in Tower Six. Right in the middle of a conference full of three and four pip Admirals. Mirra happily sighed and leaned her face against her fist as she listened to Max fill her in on all the supremely divine chaos the not-so-little Milly was putting him through. Even though she herself had taken a break, that [...] Time, kept right on ticking. How much she had missed, it was a nostalgic kind of melancholy. Ezo: ::grinning:: That’s my girl. Always keeping you on your toes. ::sobering slightly:: Max, I…heard about your father. ::pausing:: I am so sorry. I know how important he was to you… Max nodded slowly, before looking up at the screen and into those black eyes again. He offered a soft smile of thanks. Maxwell: He thought highly of you. It was always his mother Abrielle that was trying to matchmake him, but on one occasion it had been William as well. Before she had the chance to answer, a muffled crash could be heard. With narrowed eyes and a quick head turn, she stood from her chair, her hands turned to fists onto her hips, as he had seen a thousand times before, although this time, with a prominently swollen belly in the way. Ezo: ::bellowing:: BENJAMIN THEODORE MAXWELL EZO!! Get your tiny butt in here sir! After a brief silence, the soft but distinct thwomping of feet could be heard approaching. The flinty expression melted as a small green blur came running into the room. Bending, Mirra snatched up a tiny little Gorn. One with a mysteriously metallic looking knitted left arm. With an exasperated sigh, she pulled back the knitted Gorn face and revealed a shock of dark hair, (all his father’s), and under a smear of purple and black frosting, was a completely mischievous smirk (that was all Mirra). Ezo: Ben, you know those cupcakes are for after dinner. ::using the universal “mom thumb”, she began to clear the evidence as squeals of toddler laughter and wriggling filled the air. She let out a small “Oof” as a chunky toddler leg accidentally kicked her stomach:: Whoa Benji, careful of your sisters please… The wriggling stopped, as a tiny hand with knitted claws gently patted her belly. “I sowwy Sisses” squeaked out. No doubt the first of a thousand wrestling matches the boy would start, and apologize for with his baby sisters. Although, Mirra hadn’t quite planned on it while they were still in utero. Ezo: Sorry about that, ::settling back down in the chair with Ben on her lap:: Now, where were we? Eyes wide in delighted surprise, all thoughts of his late fathers silent matchmaking were forgotten. He smirked at Mirra, before smiling at the little chap now sat with her. Maxwell: We were sharing revelations it seems. ::To Ben.:: Hello, Ben. Ezo: ::grinning:: Ben, this is your uncle Max. Can you say hello? Benjamin waved a shy clawed hand. "Hi Onkle Max". Max gave a little wave in return. Maxwell: Well, it’s a pleasure tae meet you. And it was. He was stunned, he was thrilled. He was absolutely over the moon for her. And sitting there looking at the pair he found himself, yet again, breaking out into a broad grin. Ezo: ::raising an eyebrow:: What are you grinning about? ::she knew, adjusting the wiggly toddler:: You'll have to forgive the surprise, it was too good to pass up. Maxwell: You. You’re looking grand, got yourself a handsome wee boy there and a couple ae wee lassies on the way. I couldnae be happier. Mirra's grin nearly matched his own. After all they had been through together and separately, and the amount of time that had passed since they last saw one another, it was almost as if the years melted away. Ezo: You know if you ever find yourself in our galaxy, Tyler and I would insist you come and stay for awhile. And of course bring Milly! Maxwell: If she knew where I was going, there’s no a force in the galaxy could keep Milly behind. ::He offered up a lop-sided smile.:: And I promise I’ll come tae visit first chance I get. It was quite a distance to travel, but it would be worth it to spend time with a dear friend and her growing family. He wasn’t even halfway back to 118, and wasn’t sure when his next extended leave would be but he was already plotting and planning for a trip. The excitement was bubbling up already, all the things she could show Milly and Max, and catching up actual face to face. Ezo: I will hold you to that Arturo Maxwell. Ben glanced between his mother and the man on the screen. He heard that name when he was in trouble, but this time Mommy was smiling. Confused, he decided to play with Mommy's hair. Coiling it around his little knitted claws. Maxwell: So, apart from making me intae an uncle. What’s new? Ezo: ::blinking innocently:: Oh you know, same old same old. Her smirk was pronounced. He pointed a light-hearted finger at the screen. Maxwell: Hey, no fair. Spill the beans. Mirra rolled her eyes at him, for what was sure to be the thousandth time in their lives. It was always good natured and came from love. Still, she couldn't help it. Taking the bottom of her braid, she swished it about Ben's nose as he giggled and squirmed happily. What a series of events it had been. One she had never pictured for herself, but one she would never in the name of the Four question, or return. Ezo: ::taking a dramatic breath:: Well it all started when I came home for my great Aunt's 100th birthday party…. And well? She never left. Mirra had only intended to stay for a few weeks with her family. Somehow, the Gods had set Tyler Kelly back in her path. Retired from Starfleet and owning/operating his own Demolitions contract company. Anything that needed safely destroyed with a variety of explosives...he was the man for the job. He wound up with a contract with the Betazed government. Mirra herself officially retired and ready to plant some roots, accepted a fellowship at University on disease study. The two happened upon each other at that very party, and had been together ever since. Married, a son and two daughters on the way. Shortly after Ben was born, that same Great Aunt had passed away, leaving her the Villa and a simple note that said: "You are welcome." Mirra was only slightly surprised, her Aunt always did have a strange magic about her…. ((OOC - written with permission from the character's writer)) Ezo: So, that's the story. Maxwell: Well I guess now I have tae forgive you for going off and leaving me all alone. He chuckled even as he put on a sad and abandoned face. Her smile was genuine and tinged with sad. She missed him terribly. Ezo: Well maybe the next time I catch myself near the base I'll have to come bug you! They were interrupted by the chirp of Max’s commbadge. Baker: =/\= Ensign Baker to Commander Maxwell =/\= He let out a sigh before giving Mirra a roll of the eyes. Tapping the badge he continued to watch Ben play with his mothers braid. Maxwell: =/\= Maxwell here, what can I do for you, Ensign? =/\= Baker: =/\= I’m sorry to disturb you sir, but we could really use your assistance recalibrating the main tactical sensor arrays. =/\= Silently mouthing something in Italian that would have had his mother giving him a slap on the arm, Max wiped a hand over his eyes. Mirra laughed and jokingly put her hands over Ben's ears. Not that he spoke Italian...she was pretty sure anyways. Maxwell: =/\= I’ll be right there. Maxwell out. =/\= ::Tapping the badge again to sever the link, Max turned his face back towards Mirra. He smiled at her again, although this time it was one of both mild frustration mixed with apology.:: I’ve got tae go. It’s been great tae hear from you. Ezo: ::beaming:: Always with being the indispensable one. I'm so proud of you Max. And I'll call again soon, ok? His smile brightened then and he nodded. As Mirra made to end the call he took a couple of quick steps towards the wall viewer. He reached out and pressed his palm to the screen. Maxwell: I miss you… She and Ben put their hands up, his little knit gorn claws on full display. Ezo: I miss you too, Max. ~fin~ Lieutenant-Commander Arturo Maxwell Chief Tactical Officer / Second Officer Starbase 118 Operations O239311AM0 & PNCP Civilian Mirra Ezo, MD Written by Ensign Talia Ohnari, MD. USS Constitution-B C239205ME0

Never change Kirky.

I like how when MacKenzie isn't being MacKenzie enough, we just bend our sims to make her more MacKenzie.

It wasn't the size of the Resolution that counted! It was how we used her!

Underneath the ship Hull has sprung a leak And the crewman that are trapped Have all become green plants And the rest are all in pods And You can hardly see them Don’t look at the flash Please don’t blame Genkos Adea - Something in the way - Nirvana - Nevermind (1991)

(OOC - The music by which this was written, and perhaps should be listened to: https://youtu.be/FnkTuHP9q3o ) ((Main Engineering, USS Resolution)) Sparks flew in a fantastical display of fireworks that she had not seen before. Something deep inside told her they were in trouble, but her mind refused to believe it. One by one, the warning lights lit up on the board, showing just how poorly the fight was going. Hull breaches were popping up all over the place, not that the ship was very big to begin with, but almost all decks had been exposed to the vacuum outside. Power was waning, the EPS grid was failing, plasma was venting in far too many places to begin to count, and forcefields were not holding. The Resolution was dying. The acrid smell of the smoke was starting to get to her. Unable to catch her breath, Chandra was coughing as she darted from one console to another fighting futile fight after futile fight to try to keep things together. Rerouting power from here and there just to keep the containment fields in place, the forcefields up around critically populated areas, the power on to emergency systems...but like her, the ship was slowly slipping into the void. Her eyes were stinging and she could barely see, but she knew engineering like the back of her hand. So when the acting captain's voice came over the comms, she ushered everyone around her out and remained, nearly blind, to continue the fight. Adea: =/\= This is Captain Adea to all personnel. Drop what you’re doing and head to the nearest escape pod. This is not a drill. We are evacuating the ship. =/\= The alarms made it difficult to hear, the smoke and sparks made it difficult to see, but she called out over it all. Amari: Everyone OUT! Get to your designated evacuation pods NOW! For such a small woman, her voice absolutely boomed over the alerts, the klaxxons, the hissing of the cracked conduits and plasma flows, reaching the ears of what was left of the engineering crews. And a credit to their training and ability, it only took them mere minutes to clear out. Only one junior officer had stopped to check on her, and she had lied to them. 'I'm right behind you.' she'd said. They ran down the corridor and she slammed the heavy core breach doors closed and in doing so, sealed her fate. This was her ship. She would remain until the bitter end. The console told her of the bridge calling for power to the engines. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew they had to get away from the escape pods. Whoever was on the bridge knew that too. And so, Chandra spent what was left of her precious moments pulling every last remaining ounce of power from every single system and putting it into the engines. There wasn't much, but pulling the forcefields down from the holes that pockmarked the hull, and switching off life support, environmental systems, weapons, even lighting... A surge of power burst through to the nacelles, exciting the warp coils and creating one final mighty stand by the Resolution to protect the souls it once housed. The ship lurched forward, jumping though warp as far as it could handle, sending every last rib and spar buckling beneath the shearing pressures. It didn't matter that they didn't see the planetary body in the way. It didn't matter that the move was the last the Resolution would ever make, her back permanently broken. All that mattered was that it had taken what was left of the ship far enough from the escape pods to ensure the safety of the people within. Knowing that, Chandra patted the nearest console as the ground shook beneath her feet and the console in front of her exploded sending her backwards into the bulkhead behind her. With her head spinning, throbbing - she hit it against something - she looked and noticed the strange appearance of greenery. Blinking, she knew she had to be dreaming. This couldn't be real. Right? The alarm sounded signifying that the warp core's containment was failing, but it felt like it was an echo in the background of her mind. The strange scent of something akin to honeysuckle met her nose as she tried to blink away the shadows. Darkness continued to encroach, the shaking intensified, and all around her the ship seemed to be falling apart. And then suddenly, there was nothing. END -- Lieutenant Commander Chandra Amari Acting Chief Engineering Officer Deceased as simmed by: Fleet Captain Kalianna Nicholotti Commanding Officer USS Resolution R238605KN0

Congrats you two!

- Always a good plan!

I'm always marching to the beat of my own drum, but I've been working on a variation of the ST:Beyond "survival suit" as a combat/mission uniform variant.

((CMO's office - Starbase 118)) ((Time index - Night before Keal's party)) ::There was a small crack in the wall. Barely noticeable. It looked more like a chip of paint, probably leftover from when she'd moved her desk the first time and stubbornly refused help to do it. The crack was jagged, but easily fixed. In fact, the more she stared, the more she wondered if it was a crack at all, or just a shadow. All the lights were off, nothing except the soft glow of her monitor at her desk. The desk which she'd vacated about an hour ago, to curl up on the sofa and stare at the wall. Seven hundred souls. Seven hundred rescued slaves. Since they returned to base, Mirra had been working with Ishani and her crisis response team, as well as Aelia and her veritable army of counselors. They'd all been running ragged, offering aide when and where they could. They were exhausted. But...they didn't have her job. After the treatment plan had been developed and implemented, she was approached with a rather delicate situation. That mine had been under Syndicate operation for years. Given the conditions of the rescued workers, life expectancy in the mines varied...but was consistently short. Her job, had been attempting to identify the remains. Cataloging the species in hopes, bringing closure to families who had long ago given up hope of ever finding out what happened to their missing loved ones. Tucked away in her office, she shouldered the burden and began her work. The worst was the before pictures. Smiling, healthy faces with the bold red "Missing" banner, and the date. Some were old enough to be her grandparents. Each match she made would bring a small bit of peace to those waiting at home, but each match took a bit of her soul with it. Mirra had to step away for a moment before she gave it all away. And that brought her to the innocent little crack in her wall. So absorbed in her examination of the curious little crack, she missed the light tapping on the door of her office.:: Zotav: ::quietly:: Mirra...? ::Aelia Zotav had been Mirra's roommate at the academy. Both had majored in medicine, but life had taken them to different paths. Separated by duty for years, they'd recently been reunited, Aelia choosing to move from medicine to counseling, her trained eye took a backseat. Mirra at this moment didn't need a therapist, she needed a friend. She carefully settled next to Mirra, who was staring intently at the wall, knees up and arms wrapped protectively around them. Maximum safety position. Aelia knew what Mirra had been doing, and her heart broke just a little for her friend. Laying her head against Mirra's shoulder, she spoke softly.:: Zotav: ::gently:: How many...? Ezo: ::evenly:: Three hundred and twelve. ::Three hundred and twelve souls returned to their Gods, freed from the mines long before Starfleet ever arrived. Those were the only ones she'd been able to identify, so far. There were countless numbers she hadn't been able to match...yet. She planned to ask Aitas to do some more extensive digging. Some of those people were most likely drifters, no official medical record reports to match them to. There were even more so degraded they would never be identified. They were cataloged in a massive log that hurt to even think about. Those lives would be remembered as a file, on a database somewhere, and nothing more.:: Zotav: ::wrapping her arms around Mirra in a tight squeeze:: You did a good thing. Ezo: ::hollow:: I didn't do anything...I couldn't ::her voice cracked:: Zotav: ::gently:: You brought peace. Closure. ::hugging tighter:: Mirra...they were already gone... ::Mirra took one arm from around her own legs and wrapped it around Aelia. Burying her face into the ocean of inky black curls of her friends hair, and lost the battle against her tears.:: Zotav: ::holding her friend close, her own tears slipped down her face. She kept her voice even:: And now, you honor them with your tears. You've been doing this for hours...alone. Ezo: ::whimpering softly:: So many I can't...they won't match...and...no one will remember them if I can't find them... Zotav: ::softly:: It's alright...you've done everything you can...and we will remember them. We will honor them. ::Aelia moved her hand through Mirra's hair, making soft soothing motions and humming softly. After a few moments, they both managed to stop crying, and the two friends linked hands, each in their own thoughts, but focused on the small crack in the wall.:: Ezo: ::quietly:: I should fix that crack... Zotav: ::tilting her head:: It kind of looks like a happy little bunny...I think it's cute. You should leave it. ::A small smile broke across Mirra's face. No matter how dark the moment, Aelia was never far from the sun. She snuggled closer to her friend, who never ceased to bring Mirra back into the light. Nuzzling her shoulder affectionately, Mirra gazed on her little bunny shaped crack in a new light. Even in the most dire of times, with Aelia's help, she'd work a little harder to find the bunny. In whatever shape it took.:: ------------------------------------------ PNCP Lt. Aelia Zotav Counselor & Lt. Commander Mirra Ezo, MDChief Medical Officer Starbase 118 OpsC239205ME0

A pertinent suggestion.

You can't make him wear a tie.

Come for the beaches! Stay because you're dead.

Damnnnnnn, Aitas doesn't play. I'd hate to see what she thinks about ol' scarface.

Just remember, I'm watching. Always.