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Jalana last won the day on April 10

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About Jalana

  • Birthday 07/03/1979

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    Berlin, Germany
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    Way too many to list, a few of them are roleplay, writing, reading, gaming, Photoshop, 3D Meshing etc

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  1. ((Ada Scrum Lab, Daystrom Institute)) G'r'oq: ... and once I get a draft complete, I'll send it to you for your approval. The scientist's words hung in the air for a moment before Azura clicked in that she needed to reply. Ada: Of course. I'm sure it'll be fine. The scientist smiled a toothy grin, nodded, and left. Azura sat in her "office," the temporary living space set up for her in the corner of the lab space created to analyze and treat her. They say a named lab (or even something like a bench) in the Daystrom Institute is arguably the highest honor a Federation scientist can hope for. Of course, those are typically to reflect achievements in the sciences and contributions to knowledge and the Federation. Her honor was that of a unique object of study. G'r'oq's paper would be the 23rd one she's agreed to so far. Everyone wanted a piece of her story. Her existence was something of a rarity, and her ailment was wholly unknown. "Ada syndrome" is the name being kicked around to describe the various deleterious effects of jumping through dimensions like she did. She was typically offered co-authorship on the papers, but she declined each time. It was all too personal to write academically about. She was somewhat of a star around Daystrom, especially because of her expertise as a scientist. Not only was she the exciting new object of study, but she could carry on a conversation. The past few months had been fine, mostly: endless meetings, tests, attempts, therapy sessions, failures, setbacks, and disappointments. But perseverance paid off, and Sheng's team figured out a way to nullify the effects of her different quantum resonance. Azura's posture relaxed into the couch as she picked up the PADD with her orders to return to the Constitution. She was eager, but nervous. Had Sheng really fixed things? All the tests and therapy suggested yes. She was back to herself--at least as much as she knew. All her metrics suggested basic parity with Lazarus' last data, accounting for differences driven by their biological and psychological distinctions. Sheng's solution was almost a non-solution. Unlike the other efforts from various teams that wanted to "fix" her quantum resonance, Sheng's team devised a way to make them irrelevant. Sheng's team designed a portable emitter inspired by the portable holo-emitter worn by The Doctor aboard the USS Voyager on her mission through the Delta Quadrant. Instead of emitting complex forcefields to constrain photons and the like; Sheng's device emitted low-amplitude exotic radiation in just the right way to shift her quantum resonance to be in line with this reality's quantum resonance. It also served to ensure that when one of her cells died, the one that regenerated would naturally have this reality's quantum resonance. In time, she would be less and less reliant on the emitter. There were no known side effects to her wellbeing, though it did shift her biomarkers slightly, and she would be easier to spot with sensor tech. The exotic radiation she was bombarded with was extremely low energy, but it was still greater than zero. And several people reported a subtle sensation of an electrical current when they touched her. She felt it too, but it didn't happen with everyone. She turned on the PADD and looked down at the orders again: =/\= LIEUTENANT COMMANDER AZURA ADA ASSIGNMENT: USS CONSTITUTION-B Ada, following the completion of your treatment and the testing of your emitter, as well as clearance from your therapist, you are hereby cleared for duty and ordered to return to the USS Constitution-B. Your shuttle leaves at 1800 hours today. Commodore Sihk-Styfore =/\= Ada: Computer, what time is it? Computer: 10-0-4 hours. Azura tossed the PADD to her left and it landed with a soft thud on the cushion. She sighed, thinking of all the things she had to accomplish before the shuttle took off. While in thought, her fingers ran over the new piece of tech she'd be wearing at all times: the emitter. It'd better work in the field as well as it works in the lab... One last test, just to be sure. Ada: Computer, run a level 1 diagnostic on my emitter. The computer chimed and announced it would take 4 minutes to complete the diagnostic. Satisfied, Azura picked the PADD back up and started tapping out a to-do list for herself. Soon enough, she'd be stepping back onto the Conny. —— Lt Commander Azura Ada Chief Science Officer(?) USS Constitution-B IDIC team member ASDB team member C239510LD0 (she/her, character) (she/they, writer)
  2. Amazing way to say that the trees got pollen
  3. (( Motha's Quarters - USS Constitution-B )) Revenge. No matter how Motha tried to make excuses for it, what he was doing was plain old revenge. For the pasts few nights, his nemesis, the Caitian who had been his room mate for what felt like eons had been on a different shift. That did give the Phylosian some space for quiet. He didn't actually hate the cat but continually finding items moved around the room or the furniture shifted by a few centimeters was irking him. That was why he was going to have just the smallest amount of fun. Though the replicator could theoretically make it, Motha didn't want it to be tracked back to him too quickly. Thankfully there was a foreign shop on Arentis that had what he wanted. Taking out the little plastic bag, Motha's vines snaked in, took the smallest of pinches and sprinkled it at the foot of S'Rrrrell's bed. Catnip. There was no way they Catian would miss that smell. For the next twenty minutes, Motha moved about and sprinkled just the smallest amount. The cat's evening shirt, around his desk chair, just enough that the scent would be on the air but not enough to quite track down. This would keep his mortal enemy busy for awhile. At least till they had their lunch date in two days time. Motha found an interesting holodeck program of a fishing village that served what some crew were calling delicious seafood. But for now, the catnip would keep him busy. Ensign Motha Engineering Officer USS Constitution-B
  4. ((And the conclusion of "White Tribble" and "1 Hypo makes you larger, and 1 hypo makes you small" )) (( Ba'el's Mind, Paioke Colony-Drever IV)) The older Klingon again nodded approvingly to her. A look of approval on his face, W'mar: No, I am not. :: Takes another drink from his flask before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand:: So, if I am not really W'mar, as you say, then what am I? Ba'el stared at him for a moment before she lowered her gaze, unsure how to answer the question. W'Mar chuckled to himself for a moment before he spoke again. W'mar: Come now, this should be a simple question and easy to answer. I thought you were a trained "counselor', and not a trainee on her first cadet cruise. There was a mocking tone to his questions, and Ba'el could feel her own temper build in response. Ba'el: I am a Counselor! W'mar: Then answer the question! What. Am. I? Ba'el thought a moment before responding to his challenge. Ba'el: Since all of this ::Gestures around herself:: isn't real, then it is a construct of my unconscious mind which means ::Glares at W'mar:: You are as well. W'mar: ::nods:: Very good. Ba'el: Then what is all this about then? ::Glares:: Why now? The old monk met her stare, and the challenge it implied. It is a test of wills, but Ba'el refused to avert her eye's in deference to the older Klingon. W'mar's steely gaze was evenly matched with the fire in Ba'el's eyes. The standoff lasted only a moment before W'mar smiled and took another drink. tacitly yielding to the younger woman. W'mar: Good. I see you still have the heart of a Klingon warrior. Even if you reject the warriors path. Ba'el: I have not rejected the warriors path! W'mar: Oh? ::cocks his head slightly to the side:: You left your people, and joined starfleet to be a "counselor" for the glory of the empire I suppose? ::a dismissive gesture:: Bah! Ba'el took a deep breath to focus her thoughts and not give in to her anger. Ba'el: I left because that was the path laid out before me in my visions. Not every battle can be won in physical combat! Not every battlefield is so simple as an open field! Not every enemy is easy to slay! W'mar dismissed her statements with a wave of his hand. W'mar: Invisible enemies? in our minds? Perhaps human minds are vulnerable to these "enemies", But a Klingon mind is stronger. Ba'el: No, it is not. All minds are strong, Klingon or otherwise. But even the strongest ones can be worn down by unexpected foes, by enemies the mind cannot cope with. I have seen it with my own eyes. W'mar shakes his head in disbelief. W'mar: I'm confused. You talk of helping others minds, like a doctor, yet you also talk of fighting enemies that are unseen. So which are you? A healer of minds, or a Klingon Warrior? Ba'el leaps to her feet, fists balled, glaring angrily at the old monk. Ba'el: I AM BOTH A HEALER AND A WARRIOR! W'mar looked up at her with a stony look on his face. W'mar: Is that so? Tell me how this can be? Ba'el took a moment to regain her control before speaking again. her heart pounding in her chest. Ba'el: I stand with those who have been condemned to fighting a lonely battle. With no support, no reinforcements and no chance to rest and regain their strength. A battle against an enemy already entrenched within their minds. The enemy is tireless, their very strength can double the moment you aren't looking. It is a long campaign against almost impossible odds. Against such an enemy, every moment of survival is seen as a victory. For me, there is no more honorable combat than this. And I will never yield. W'mar looked at her in silence. The crackle of the fire filling the silence between them. Ba'el: This is an enemy that does threaten our people. An enemy against we have no defense. An enemy our people don't see as a threat. But it is there. And has already claimed the minds of those caught unawares. I have seen those who suffered amongst our people. They are treated as weak cowards, or simpleminded. But they have suffered at the hands of enemies that can make a Klingon's blood run cold with fear. W'mar: What enemies. We fear no-one! Now it was Ba'el's turn to be dismissive. Ba'el: The Borg for one. An enemy that cares nothing for honor, that views us as simply a resource to be harvested. The hearts of even the greatest of Klingon warriors will know fear. The fear of being robbed of the self through assimilation. The fear of defeat without a glorious death in combat. I remember seeing the Klingons rescued from the Borg on Boreth. They were hollow shells of themselves, and all but forgotten by their fellow Klingons. W'mar simply stared at her. Saying nothing. Ba'el: I was a young acolyte then. But I knew this was wrong. Kahless never turned his back on his people, and yet we claim to follow in his footsteps? The enemy had shown themselves to me. To fight them, I needed training I could not get in the empire. So yes, I turned to the Federation. And yes, I joined Starfleet. They had the knowledge I needed to fight this enemy. Someday I will return to the Empire. And when I do, it will be armed with the weapons. the skills, and the experiences of this path. She stopped to take a breath and looked down at him. Ba'el: I have freely surrendered my todays, for my peoples tomorrows. W'mar slowly regained his feet. He walked around the small fire to stand before Ba'el. W'mar: Your heart, is truly Klingon. With such fire, futures are forged. With a final nod of respect, the old Klingon monk begins to talk back to the tunnel he arrived from. Just before he enters, he turns to look at Ba'el on last time. W'mar: Ba'el, daughter of Laneth, of the house of Konjah. I wish you well on your path. Qaplah! Ba'el: Qaplah! Brother W'mar Ba'el watched him walk into the tunnel. eventually, he faded from sight. oO Well that was interesting. But I still don't know how to wake myself up. Oo From the tunnel, W'mar's voice could be heard one final time. W'mar: One more thing. Getting injured by animal traps will not help you get into to Sto-vo-kor. So try not to get darted again? oO Darted? Oo Pain suddenly flared in her hip and side. the burning sensation made her nerves scream in agony. She felt herself falling. Her last sight was the cavern floor rushing up to meet her before she blacked out. ((OOC: I think that should tie it up. Wake me up outside please.)) Ensign Ba'el Counselor USS Constitution-B C240012B13
  5. ((This is the continuation of "White Tribble" )) (( Ba'el's Mind, Paoike Colony-Drever IV)) W'mar: Ba'el, daughter of Laneth, of the house of Konjah. We need to talk. Ba'el: Talk? ::Tilts her head in confusion:: About what? The old monk simply grunted with amusement. He pulled a flask from within his robes, opened the cap and took a deep drink before he returned his gaze to her. W'mar: About why you are here. Ba'el was even more confused now. Ba'el: Why I am here? I do not even know how I got here! The last thing I remember was....was W'mar: Drever IV? Ba'el looked up sharply. The memory coming back to her. Ba'el: Yes! I was helping one of the colonists and went to get some water for his garden and.. The old monk laughed. Shaking his head upon hearing her words. W'Mar: Getting a colonist some water for his garden? Is THIS the path you left us to follow? And then what happened? Ba'el bristled at the old monks mocking a moment before she tried to recall what had happened. Ba'el: ::furrows her brow:: I went to get the water, as I started to walking back, I heard a noise in the underbrush, and tried to see what it was. Then it starts to get blurry and I must have blacked out. The old monk gave her an incredulous look before he took another drink from his flask. W'mar: Yes, that sort of thing can happen when you get shot in the 'oSrlq by a couple of darts! Not exactly the sort of tale to inspire your fellow Klingons with. The younger Klingon woman was now confused, embarrassed and angry Ba'el: Darts? ::Shakes her head in confusion:: Wait, am I dead? W'mar: No. Merely unconscious. Ba'el: Merely unconscious? ::looks around then back to W'mar:: So this is all in mind mind. W'mar: ::nods approvingly:: Just so. It's nice to see your wits haven't been completely dulled yet. Ba'el: If this is all simply in my mind, then you aren't really W'mar. The older Klingon again nodded approvingly to her. A look of approval on his face, W'mar: No, I am not. :: Takes another drink from his flask before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand:: So, if I am not really W'mar, as you say, then what am I? ((TBC: Gotta stop to make dinner, I will pick this up again soon.)) Ensign Ba'el Counselor USS Constitution-B C240012B13
  6. (( Quarters Ollo )) Ollo Prime, the "original Ollo," was perched cross legged on his bed and gently rocking back and forth. Ollos 3, 4, and 9 were also seated cross legged and rocking. 3 and 4 were on the couch, and 9 was on the floor in the dining area. Incredibly, no one figured out there were a dozen Ollos. Something happened to the holodeck before he used it, and it kept pumping out copies of Ollo. Not photonic, but real, coherent matter copies. Whoever said "Hell is other people" was never stuck in a LtJG-sized quarters with 11 copies of themselves. Everything he hated about himself was not externalized and highly visible. And everything he didn't need or want to know about himself was omnipresent. He had to see what he looked like when he sat down, drank from a glass, yawned... all of it. And it was invariably awkward and uncomfortable. But they agreed: keep it secret until they could figure out the solution. And until then.. Misery. Abject misery. Worst of all? Ollo was forced to recognize how terrible his toupee looks. He wasn't fooling anyone. They'd figure a way out of this mess. Surely, they would...
  7. ((Apex Hot Springs - Arentis)) Kim sat quietly, feeling the odd juxtaposition of the warm water around her body against the cold air above her, and thought. She'd texted her parents about her promotion and awards. They'd been ecstatic for her and soon several messages had come in from subspace from friends and relatives. Cypria, the local social media and messaging service, had several messages congratulating her. Neocypriate Serving members of Starfleet were often given pages -- and sometimes shrines -- on the service. She thought of the sort of impact she might make on the ship. Her home, New Cyprus, had been a place of contradiction. Its past was dark and gritty, many of its buildings living on as husks of their former selves, surrounded by a bright and happy jungle of new constructions, the skyline promising a bright future in spite of where the world had been. Kim had contributed to that future, adding holographic elements to civic landmarks and town squares. She'd had a budding architect phase during her youth. At 16 she'd been obsessed with Theodore Frudagar's landmark textbook on holoarchitecture. The field had been mocked over the years for its transient creations and compared to laser graphiti, in which artists would tag buildings not with paint but rather temporary light displays. Such things had begun in the early 21st century in protest against political leaders on Earth. There had been something of a back-handed self congratulatory tone in that passage. Not merely a husk. While many criticized holoarchitects for doing nothing but defacing and twisting the intentions of the original architects who'd planned the spaces in which they worked, the holoarchitects who chafed under such criticism were quick to point out that buildings were just dead husks. A few called them canvases. The truth was that holoarchitecture and architecture itself were merely two sides of the same coin. Frudagar's premise rested on the idea of storytelling through both static and moving structures. New Cyprus's story was one of rebirth and transformation. Kim wondered. What was she transforming into? What parts of her were static? Which ones could she change? The water around her bubbled and frothed as the mountains beyond sat in stoic silence. -- Lt. Jg Kimberly Stapledon Engineer USS Constitution-B I238601KB0
  8. (( This is the last sim in the exchange between the two, an emotional relatable end to this scene that needed to be shared )) ((Lieutenant JG T’Ama and Ensign Flores’s Quarters - Deck 19, USS Constitution-B)) Rachel spoke up and lifted the light aluminum cane off of the floor below her, demonstrating that she had just gotten back from sickbay. She sighed and realized that she was going to have to come clean with what exactly had happened. It was not something that she could keep a secret forever. Her injuries were affecting her too much to hide. T’Ama: Oh… okay. Flores: There was an accident on Arentis. An anti-grav hoverboard suffered a serious malfunction and propelled me into a wall head-first at full speed. T’Ama: ::alarmed:: Were you wearing a helmet? The whole thing was embarrassing, cosmic justice for her arrogance. She shook her head, fully revealing the patch of missing hair and the small osteogenic stimulator over the burr hole in her skull. Obviously, given the severity of her injury, she had not taken the right precautions. Flores: No, I wasn’t. T’Ama: Fyrshi… It took a second to recall the medical terms for what had happened, how to describe the traumatic brain injury in terms worse than a simple concussion. Flores: I suffered contusions and subdural haema-something. T’Ama: Toma. How are you doing? Flores: Honestly, not great. I’m off duty and basically useless as an engineer. I can’t recall basic technical facts and have difficulty with decision making. ::She sighed:: And I sort of killed Dunsel. Bits of shattered monitor were still on the ground below the replicator with data lines exposed, and one of Dunsel’s googly eyes was just barely hanging on after being knocked loose by her swing with the cane. T’Ama: ::gasping:: Dunsel!! ::walking closer to survey the damage:: Ohhhh, he had a face! Rachel felt a single tear fall down her cheek. Even though it felt perfectly justified at the time, she now felt very bad about it. Especially since it also inconvenienced her friend and roommate. Flores: I’m sorry. ::She wiped her eyes. Her mouth twisted into a sad, forced smile.:: But don’t worry, you don’t have to deal with that anymore. Privileges of rank! It was bitter, jealous, angry, and self-serving. She was going to find a way to rain all over T’Ama’s parade and make her promotion an issue for herself, somehow. And it of course assumed the worst. Something she’d been doing since she woke up in the state she did. Of course her roommate would leave at the very first opportunity and she’d be left to cope with everything alone. T’Ama: What do you mean by that? Rachel frowned at the change of tone. As if she hadn’t just said what she said. Flores: Merely a statement of fact regarding quarters assignment policies. T’Ama: ::firmly:: That was a guilt trip, and I don’t do those. Which it absolutely was. As much as she wanted to be mad some more and deny it, it was absolutely true. She was still angry about everything that had happened. She was disappointed with her inability to manage her condition. And she was honestly a bit scared of having to deal with it all without somebody regularly around to talk to. So maybe it was okay that she… Flores: oO Nope, don’t you dare say that Rachel. That’s not an excuse to treat a friend like crap. Oo She still wasn’t herself. Hell, she should probably still be in sickbay if she was going to break replicators and say terrible things to people. Less than one word into trying to mount some defense or excuse she gave up and admitted defeat. It had been a rude, ignorant thing to say. And it had been exactly as T’Ama called it. A guilt trip. Flores: Well- ::Beat:: Yeah, it was. You’re right. I would give a heartfelt apology but I’d already started thinking about other stuff… Apology undercut by a defensive bit of sarcasm, it seemed that her roommate had lost her patience for the Rachel Flores Mental Acrobatics Exhibition. T’Ama: Okay, I’m getting overwhelmed and I have a shift starting in 37 minutes. I’m sorry this happened to you and that you have to deal with this. I hope you fully recover. I’m going to go now. There were no more words to say. It was a bit too late to say something to actually apologize. She watched T’Ama do a quick inspection of her uniform in the mirror before heading for the door. As much as she wanted to ask her to wait, to say something to try and salvage the conversation, she had to respect T’Ama’s wishes not to talk about it further right now. T’Ama: Bye, get better! Rachel replied quietly. Flores: ::Meekly:: Bye. T’Ama left and Rachel thought about what had just happened. She’d certainly made better choices than that. Looking down at the cane she thought about hobbling back to sickbay where she couldn’t hurt the feelings of anyone besides the medical staff. Ellie had mentioned that emotional and behavioral control was something that her brain injury could impact. Although that didn’t make her feel any less awful about it. She cursed under her breath and wished she could immediately fall back asleep and not have to think about what she had done. Flores: You’re an idiot, Rachel.
  9. Yes! Red goes ZOOOOOOOOOOOM! We all know that!
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