Jalana

hahahh

((Deck 4 Personnel Transporter, USS Constitution-B, a short while ago)) While waiting for the rightfully suspicious transporter chief to perform the seemingly excessive amount of clearances and verifications they’d required before allowing Bosko to beam down to Hermes Station to rendezvous with Lieutenant Shimisi, Mylas decided to indulge in a bit of sentimentality. It was something he tried to limit himself to indulging in only during periods of high stress, but being sent on his first-ever assigned task on his first-ever starship during his first-ever mutiny seemed like it certainly qualified. Also he felt like he needed to be doing something narratively, and he had no flashback experiences on the Constitution to draw upon, nor understanding of the situation at hand to think about, so he did this instead. Just so he could be doing SOMETHING. From his uniform trouser pocket he produced a small portfolio of soft leathery material - a lovely printed and extruded vellum substitute that was exceedingly durable, in soft wine-red, the color of profit. Embossed on the front cover, in Zibalian script (similar to the ancient Iconian alphabet but of course much more marketable), in the lower left corner of the cover vertically, indicating great significance was a phrase that translated would read PRECIOUS MEMORIES. Inside the book was a simple soft-touch screen, with a matte finish and a nostaligic glow to it, and a tap brought said precious memories to the fore. Not of his family or anything, of course. That was silly. He remembered them just fine without need for any special devices. No, this was for something important; in here, lovingly categorized and beautifully cross-referenced, were high-resolution holo-images of every piece in his collection, with short descriptions. Bosko collected a great many things, but his specialization was probability tokens used for gaming; specifically dice, and variations thereof. Almost every culture on almost every world had some variation of a thing to throw or flip or drop or spin to generate random numbers analogically. He looked through a few of his favorites now, just to calm down. Gaming Collection Entry #8 - Azziz Organic Icosahedron - This beautiful specimen appears to be a standard 20-sided polygon, useful for a number of games, rituals and probability exercises, unique in particular because instead of being a carved or engineered geometric shape, it is a small organism, similar to a crustacean, whose carapace has been formed into the standard 20-sided geometric shape. The small entity within the shell appears to be asexual, and have no particular instincts aside from a desire to feed on dust mites and other micro-organisms commonly found on flat surfaces in inhabited areas. Requires a minimal supply of base proteins to survive in storage. (A feeding schedule is included in the note). The image is one of a pearlescent almost jewel-like 20-sided die with the nacreous look of an oyster shell, with 20 tiny almost translucent tendrils emerging from the bottom. Bosko barely had time to properly admire his little living die, one of the top 10 prides of his collection, and to remember that he had to make sure to feed and polish the little guy soon before the transport chief was finally satisfied with Bosko’s status as Bosko and not, seemingly, a bloodthirsty mutineer, and sent him down to the station. The Zibalian pocketed his book of precious memories as the cocoon of light wrapped him up. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Ensign Mylas Bosko HCO Officer USS Constitution-B NCC 9012-B C240110MB2

(( Because I very much enjoy reading "Dark Laria" aka Kidha )) ((Bridge - Deck 1, USS Constitution-B)) Herren: Computer, Emergency Program 47. Herren 5-9-2-3-Zeta-Epsilon. As Kidha issued the command, they were on their feet and crossing the bridge towards the OPS console. They removed the concealed Type-1 phaser that the real Commander Herren had been carrying. Emergency Program 47, something they had quietly dropped into the ship’s computer, did exactly what it was supposed to do. It locked out the consoles on the bridge without their prearranged access code. T’Seva/Ch’Nilmani: Response Ignoring the duo of senior officers and their concerns, they finished crossing the bridge to be near one of the turbolifts and the ready room in case an escape route was needed. The Human woman at OPS (a different Human than the prior woman sitting at the OPS console when she was last at the bridge), looked up from the console in confusion. They reached out and grabbed her by the back of her collar and pulled her to her feet to stand in front of them. Anderson: Commander? A Vulcan man, who seemed like a tactical or security officer who had been milling around since the chief was on the bridge, was quick to get into action and point a phaser at them. Kidha grinned, amused by the solid. Siann: Commander, stand down or- The Vulcan junior tactical officer didn’t finish his command. The phaser beam made contact and the disruption effects of its maximum setting promptly disintegrated him into his component atoms. There was a moment’s scream before silence and an empty space where the goldshirt had previously stood. Which left three other officers still standing, along with the ops officer. Not the most comfortable odds. Herren: ::Her face twisted into a smile:: No respect for the chain of command, that one. While Kidha had the little “cricket” phaser at the ready, they didn’t particularly care who was being aimed at. Ideally, they would have gotten the first officer off the bridge. Leave some junior officers to handle before seizing control of the vessel. But the contingency was never the ideal scenario. Ultimately, they weren’t sure where things would go from there. Maybe the solids would retreat. Maybe Kidha would have to retreat. It didn’t really matter. Whatever was going on with their brothers and sisters, the ship’s systems had been secured. Formerly Lieutenant Commander Herren kept a tight grip on the operations officer as she tried to pull away. She looked between the first officer and tactical chief, curious what they would do next. T’Seva: I don't believe we have actually met. Oh, yes, so very clever of the chief tactical officer. Maybe the second officer who murdered someone in cold blood was an imposter. Did the Bajoran/Vulcan tactician want a gold star for figuring that one out? Kidha sneered at her dismissively. T'Seva: So...how about we talk about what you want? Herren: Well, at this point, I’m afraid I’m going to need you all to vacate your positions aboard the ship. Permanently. The impulsive desire to fire a grazing shot at one of the solids was nearly overwhelming. But they resisted it for the moment. There would be time enough to kill the solids after toying with the pair of officers doing the talking a bit. T'Seva: Tactically, you are on your own. Your emergency code will be dealt with soon enough. So...what do you want? What do you hope to get from this? Well… there was something to be said for confidence. Herren: On my own? On the contrary, T’Seva. We could be anywhere. You think I came alone? Besides, I think you’ll find this new emergency code to be rather… robust. You’d be amazed what you can do with the commanding officer’s access. Ch'Nilmani: And :: Nodding towards where the man had been earlier. :: That was a mistake. Kidha followed his head nod to the space formerly occupied by the defiant Vulcan. Oh boo hoo, somebody who didn’t know how to surrender to a superior foe had been disintegrated. A mistake on the Vulcan’s part, not Kidha’s. Herren: I’m not going to lose any sleep over a dead solid who forgot his place. T'Seva: Response Ch'Nilmani: Where's the real Herren? If you hurt a hair on her or anyone else of my crew, I'm going to be very unstarfleet when it comes to dealing with you. It was a difficult question to answer. Both of the command Trills had been unceremoniously dumped in a sensor-proofed maintenance junction beneath the captain’s office down on the station in case any more intelligence could be extracted from them. But Kidha didn’t want to say something that would cast suspicion on the outpost. The crew couldn’t know for sure how long Herren and Rajel had been replaced. So obviously, a lie was called for. But what to say? The changeling pondered that briefly. T'Seva: Response They decided on a tone for the answer. Mock sympathy followed by something guaranteed to really upset the first officer and throw him off his game. It was clear that the Starfleet officers were not eager to turn things into a firefight so the threat of behaving in a very unstarfleet like manner was an empty one to Kidha’s mind. Unless Ch’Nilmani intended to rush the armed person and get vaporized especially easily. Herren: Awww, are we worried about our Trills? ::Beat:: If it’s any consolation, I don’t think any part of her hurt. Not for long. If you clean out the nacelle plasma stream filters you might find a bit of her. Some stray particles here and there. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Kidha decided to spill what plans she had for the bridge crew, phrased as a story. Herren: Listen, listen. Calm down. I have a plan. The news from Frontier Day was so distressing that the bridge crew began to suspect each other of being assimilated by the Borg and turned on one another. There were no survivors. And I’ll reluctantly take my place as first officer. The implication was clear. They would all be killed. Which was a real shame. Ideally, only the first officer would have to die for “Laria Herren” to replace him. But unexpected circumstances demanded sudden and aggressive action. So all of them would have to meet the same fate as the idiot Vulcan. The Human in front of them was starting to breathe faster. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Herren: It seems like the entire ship is going a bit mad. Which is the beauty of the whole Frontier Day attack. Everyone will be so distraught by the deaths of everyone on Earth that Commodore Rajel and I will be able to keep this crew quite ineffective in the aftermath. Let the assimilated fleet spread across the Federation and finish what was started so long ago. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response As Kidha listened, there was a sharp impact to their stomach. The operations officer was trying to wiggle free and grab control of the phaser. That didn’t work out for her. The changeling quickly tightened their arm around the ops officer and squeezed. Infuriated by the meager escape attempt, they hissed out a threat while dreaming of all the nasty ways the Human woman could meet her end. Herren: Do that again and you’ll wish you were disintegrated. The operations officer whimpered slightly as Kidha tightened their grasp to send a painful signal that it was better for her to comply. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Not Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Not Mission Specialist/Not Second Officer USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

Aaaaah lovely reference

((Juliet's sim of Rol'Q one of the kids on board captures well how the ship at the edge of the Federation is dealing with the news from Earth, that reached them delayed. To them the conflict is still going on, because they only hear about it through the news)) ((Corridor - Deck 13, USS Constitution-B)) Rol’Q had been in the arboretum with his uncle when the attack happened. All the red alert lights when on, which was normal. The sirens really hurt his ears, but he was getting used to those alert noises from living on a starship. So he kept working on his science project about plants. Then the ship started shaking. Something exploded. Rol’Q fell into the little pond in the middle of the arboretum. It was something they’d always talked about, that the ship might be attacked while he was living there. But he hadn’t been afraid. He was a Klingon! He wasn’t going to be afraid of battle. And that was wrong. He hated the ship shaking. He was scared. He told Uncle Savok that he wanted to go somewhere else. But Savok was busy helping someone who got hurt and yelled at him to be quiet and stay put. Well, not yell. But raise his voice, how Vulcans yelled. Rol’Q had wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere where the ship wouldn’t get hit and shake as bad. So he’d slipped out of the arboretum and asked the computer to take him to a safe place. But that just took him to the security center. Rol’Q had been gone for a while now. His uncle (and probably his aunt too) would be looking for him and would be really mad that he’d run away in the middle of a battle. Rather than go back right away and get in trouble he’d been exploring the ship a bit. He never got to do that. Nobody ever told him that the Conny was so big! But exploring didn’t feel as great as he thought it would. Maybe it was just the battle. But everybody seemed so unhappy and scared. People had been whispering to each other and talking about something bad that happened on Earth. Most of them were so worried about whatever was going on that they didn’t even notice him looking around. He had thought that maybe he would see Sarek through the little windows in the corridor looking into the Sitach- whatever they called the dolphin labs and that might cheer him up. But no. Not even the ship’s smartest dolphin could cheer him up today. As he passed by the door to one of the dolphin rooms, two Starfleet officers were arguing about something while working on repairing something. Aleskee: President Chekov was all about standing strong. He’ll see us through it. Moya: You see that snippet of telemetry they keep playing on the FNS? I wouldn’t be surprised if the president was vaporized or has already been turned into a Borg himself. The President? He kept hearing people talk about some big event on Earth. He was going to watch it with Aunt Ana later. But the President was on Earth. They’d just talked about the President and the capital on Earth and how that was the biggest person in charge of the Federation in school. He was going to give a speech they would all see for Frontier Day. Scarier was the idea of the Borg. He knew about the Borg. They were so scary even the kids on Vulcan didn’t like to talk about them. What were they doing on Earth? He thought about that as he continued wandering down the hall. He passed a different lab, where a Bolian woman was comforting a crying Human guy in what looked like the science lab gear Savok wore while working in the lab. Licasin: There there. Nerayo: My first ship was the Excelsior. A good one. Good people! They can’t just be gone. Licasin: Ayene, I’m sorry. But I can’t deny what that looked like. A ship was gone? Like destroyed? Near the shuttlebay, he saw two engineers so focused on replacing a wall monitor they didn’t notice him. One of them was going on some crazy rant about the Borg and a whole bunch of other stuff. Nichols: No way the Borg just waltz into Sector 001 and take our entire fleet over. It’s gotta be an inside job. Another admiral gone mad making some kind of crazy power play. Not to mention the Tholians are clearly in on it. I heard Davis say that he heard one of the engineers say that was definitely a Tholian web. I’m telling you, it’s all connected! The other guy didn’t seem to like what his friend was saying. Rol’Q still wasn’t sure what everyone was talking about. Nobody was explaining it how he could understand it. Everywhere he had gone, people were talking about something bad. But since everybody already knew about it, they said things like “attack” or “what’s happening at Earth”. Or people were just staring at their PADDs looking sad and not really talking. Nobody ever told him and the other kids anything about what the ship was doing. But it seemed even worse now. It felt like everybody on the whole stupid ship knew what was happening but him. He heard three people talking inside a crew lounge. Something about an attack. Curious if he could finally hear what happened, he snuck up to the door frame and listened through the open door. Jeni: I don’t want to be a pessimist, but if the fleet’s been assimilated everyone on Earth is as good as dead. Rol’Q’s eyes widened and he peeked into the room. A Bajoran woman in red, a Vulcan man in blue, and an Andoria in gold with their back to him were all talking. He quickly leaned back behind the doorframe and thought about what he’d just heard. Rol’Q: oO Everyone’s dead?! That’s close to home. What about Vulcan? Oo Vulcan was a boring planet. Nobody there knew how to have fun. But he still liked the people there. His teachers and the people around town, and especially his grandparents. He really didn’t want them to be dead. Sylok: That’s an exaggeration. We know there’s been scattered reports of violence but the only confirmed casualties seem to be the Excelsior. Zh'Rha: There’s planetary defenses, the spacedock, any ships that didn’t get assimilated. They’ll pull through. Figure out a way to get- The Bajoran interrupted her. Jeni: We saw the same broadcast, right? That fleet of ships looming over Earth in perfect formation? Sylok: They were demonstrating Fleet Formation Mode. Jeni: And then they BLEW UP another Starfleet ship! Starfleet blew up another Starfleet ship? That didn’t sound possible. Maybe Klingons would do that if another Klingon ship was behaving dishonorably. His dad had told him about the Klingon civil wars. But Starfleet didn’t do that. They were about stunning people and following rules. She had to be wrong about that. Zh'Rha: …we’re not saying it isn’t bad, but you have no idea what they plan to do next. Maybe they want something somewhere else in the Federation and this just keeps the majority of the fleet bottled up. Jeni: Yeah, right, the Borg have a phaser to the head of the Federation but its just a distraction. Earth. Is. Doomed. Between each of those last three words she slammed her hand on the table to add to the point. Sylok: Not every ship is at the Frontier Day celebration. There are many like the Constitution that could mount a rescue if Starfleet feels it is a sound strategy. Jeni: It’s still a massive fleet. And you all should both be more concerned, because this is gonna take down all of your homeworlds. Sylok: That is quite the leap in logic. Zh'Rha: I’m sure the top brass are reaching out to everyone to formulate a plan to battle the fleet if it comes to that. Rol’Q smiled a bit, agreeing with her on that. That’s what always happened. Whether it was the Borg or the Dominion or something else entirely the good guys would fly in and save the day. It was how things worked in Starfleet. The people on the Conny always saved the day. At least according to his aunt. Jeni: And how long is that gonna take? You think we can just gather up what’s left our fleet, the Klingons, anyone else we can get in on this fight like that? Once the fleet gets through Earth’s planetary defenses and gets done turning Earth to glass ::Pointing to the Vulcan crewman:: Vulcan is gone. ::Pointing to the Andorian chief:: Your homeworld is go- He got a bit worried when she talked about Vulcan getting destroyed too. Her predictions were interrupted by the sound of a chair quickly scraping across the floor from someone standing up very fast. The Andorian lady sounded very angry. Zh'Rha: Look, you better stop all this doomsday stuff right now or I swear I will- Curious, he peeked around the door to see what was going on. The Andorian woman had stood up and looked like she was about to jump across the table while the Vulcan man in the science uniform held an arm out. Rol’Q thought the Vulcan might have seen him and hurriedly ducked back out of sight while continuing to listen. Sylok: Everyone calm down. There’s no need for a fight in h… ::He trailed off, having seen something.:: Uh-oh, he wasn’t fast enough. He’d been caught spying on a grown up conversation. Zh’Rha: What’s wrong? Sylok: I thought I saw… Rol’Q didn’t stick around to hear the rest of it. He ran off further down the hall. He had hoped that hearing them talk would help him understand what was going on. But now he only had more questions. Was Earth okay? What about Vulcan? He ducked into a supply closet and sat down on the floor to think. Maybe he should go back to their quarters or to sickbay and just get yelled at for running away. He was going to get in trouble for it eventually. Right now all he really wanted was to know that everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay, right? Rol’Q, Son of Kolrriq Civilian USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

(( Drever IV, Desert )) Things could, in fact, be bad. Kiamon gripped a PADD with the course in one hand and tried to hold himself stable with the other while he prayed to gods he didn’t believe in that he’d make it out of the vehicle in one piece. He had forgotten just how awful a driver Olen was and clearly Jalana wasn’t any better. He was grateful he had not eaten a large breakfast that morning as Jalana punched the gas and took a path in hopes of taking the lead. He heard a groan and glared over to see an eyeroll aimed at him. Rajel: Will you /stop/ telling me how to drive? Tagus: I would be happy to should you suddenly decide to learn how to drive! Or better yet, let ME drive. How you have survived this long is beyond me… He snapped back, not even looking at the PADD for the moment anymore Rajel: And yet - surprisingly - I have done quite well for myself until you showed up. Tagus: ::scoffing:; Well that’s certainly debatable! Rajel: HOLD ON! Kiamon had been expecting more insults. When she yelled out to hold on, however, he resisted the urge to point out the fact that he already HAD to be holding on due to her supposed skills at driving. Instead he tightened his grip and turned to see what had sparked the reaction. Tagus: Wha-? Kiamon groaned as they took the sharp turn with far too much speed- him without much choice. He could feel the tires spinning and began coughing as a dustcloud formed and the buggy drifted and swung around before gripped and jumping forward. When he caught his breath he turned back towards Jalana. Tagus: You were saying about your driving skills? Rajel: We're still driving and in the buggy. We're fine! Kiamon raised his arms in exasperation Tagus: Oh please, Olen! You could have killed us! Rajel: For spots sake, how often do I have to tell you that I'm not Olen? Kiamon’s face dropped and his voice softened as he realized his mistake. Tagus: Right.. Sorry.. ::he cleared his throat and spoke back up:: But the point still stands! You are a wretched driver.. He pointed at her accusingly. He knew he really should be helping her navigate, but he didn’t care about winning this race. He just wanted.. Well.. closure? Or something of the sort. Rajel: I get us from A to B in one piece! Tagus: Yes, well, if your plan is to kill me in a buggy crash to get out of talking to me- just know if my symbiont survives I’ll track you down again Rajel! Jalana rolling her eyes was not lost on him. And of course another sharp curve, which elicited an annoyed grumble on his part. Rajel: Why are you so obsessed with me? Tagus: Obses- I am NOT obsessed! ::he huffed, taken aback:: I just want to talk! I didn’t ask for this.. ::he gestured wildly in front of them:: death race. Rajel: You were the one who wanted to join me so stop your whi- D’Sena: =/\= Bridge to all Personnel. This is an immediate recall. Return to the ship and find your way to your stations to prepare for departure. I repeat this is an immediate recall. =/\= Rajel: ::groaning loudly:: OH COME OOOOOOON! Kiamon’s face said it all. It was his turn to roll his eyes and he scowled accusingly at Jalana wondering if this was an elaborate ruse to avoid him. Probably not, but it was rather convenient for her to escape the conversation. They came to a sudden stop and the Trill man sighed Rajel: Looks like we'll have to continue this another time. ::She reached up to tap her badge:: =/\= Rajel to T'Aven, leave the buggies and set up, we can return later to retrieve them. =/\= T'Aven: =/\= Understood, Sir. Returning to the ship now. =/\= Jalana just nodded and tapped the badge to close the line and looked to him as he glared at her harder. Rajel: Feel free to have the ship transport you back to the colony. I'll have to leave. Sorry. ::Without waiting she pressed her badge again.:: =/\= Rajel to Constitution, beam me directly to the bridge. =/\= As she dematerialized, Kiamon stood and chuckled to himself. So she didn’t know yet. That was an unexpected delight. Wouldn’t she be in for a surprise when this emergency was over and she realized his temporary reassignment orders were sitting on her desk. He had called Starfleet the moment they had found a solution- he had no plans to stay on this planet, although he would check in from time to time to see how they were fairing. And while he wasn’t sure how long he could or would stay on the Constitution, he had had the foresight to realize both that Rajel would try to avoid him and that he would need a ride out of there. Smiling, he pressed his own commbadge and requested his own transport back onto the ship himself. oO Checkmate, Rajel Oo (OOC- For those wondering and amused by our space soap opera, yes I have in fact switched Kiamon Tagus from being an MSNPC from the last mission to a PNPC! I hope you enjoy seeing him around! -Mel) PNPC LtCmdr. Kiamon Tagus Botany/Ecology Specialist USS Constitution-B As played by: LtJG Dr. Eleanor "Ellie" Park Asst. Chief Medical Officer USS Constitution-B

((Intel Office, USS Constitution-B)) Ellie scowled as she pressed the chime to the Intel Office where the computer had told her Nugra was. After she had dispersed from the others at the meeting, she had huffed and made the determined trek here. Nugra Tk’Moong was lost in thought as his eyes read the lines to the quarterly intelligence review for the Marchlands. Starfleet Intelligence had some concerns and were updating all Intelligence officers. Some of the data was weird but nothing substantial yet. That was why the Gorn did not look up when he heard the door hiss open and someone walk in front of the desk. Ilix: Expecting someone, sir? Nugra: ::without looking up:: Yes? Ellie looked at the Gorn and spoke low, far more aggressively than her normal self. She may be normally a chill person, but she had 3 brothers. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself. Park: YOU! The Gorn’s head shot up to see the furious face of Lieutenant Ellie Park. He was confused and very amused about this adorable five foot eight mammal trying to look intimidating. He kept his face neutral. Nugra: Lieutenant. She leaned over his desk and began to poke him in the chest. Park: ::poking him with an accusing finger:: YOU ::poke:: LIED ::poke:: TO ::poke:: ME! ::poke:: Nugra: ::confused:: What? What are you speaking of? Ellie huffed and rolled her eyes. Park: You know what! Just when were you going to tell me you were a.. Lying liar of a Gorn? The lizard was absolutely confused at the moment trying to remember the last time he had spoken to her. Ilix: ::He murmured:: Computer, make a personal note. Never refuse an order from Doc Park. Nugra: You have me at a disadvantage, Mister Park. Ellie gave another scowl and crossed her arms. Disadvantage? As if. Park: Then allow me to refresh that lizard brain of yours. ::she started doing what was, honestly, a horrible impression of Nugra as she paraphrased what she remembered of his doom speech:: “I have seen quite a few terrifying things, Lieutenant, but do you know what the scariest thing I have ever seen? It's when Commodore Rajel loses her temper. I would rather face the Dominion on my own than anger her.” Ellie pointed another accusing finger at the Gorn. Park: So explain, Sir, why does everyone seem to think that she’s nice? Why she.. ::blushing:: has been nice to me?! Ilix: Don’t mind me. ::He munched on a crisp:: Oh! That was it. It was so hard not to break into the largest laugh of his life. She had finally learned the truth of the bubbly commanding officer of the USS Constitution. It seemed that Ellie Park had believed his story about her being a nightmare to work with. For a moment, Nugra thought to laugh and apologize but another thought crossed his mind. He stood to his full seven foot height with a serious look on his face. Nugra: Commodore Rajel was nice? To you and everyone? Park: Yes! Tann’s brow raised while he enjoyed another crisp, everyone knew Jalana was nice. The crew often referred to her as Mama Bear over how protective she was of them all. Ellie raised her hands in exasperation and rolled her eyes. Was he really that dense? Without hesitating, he swiftly moved over to the built in safe, tapped in the security code and reached in. In his claws, he pulled out two phasers and turned to the medical Officer. Nugra: That’s not the Commodore. We have a security breach. It took everything in him to not break out in laughter. Ilix: Understood, sir. Ellie’s eyes widened as she watched Nugra move to grab phasers and tried to process his statement. He wasn’t serious. Right? …Right?? She looked over at the other officer that she was finally registering then looked back at Nugra. Park: Wha-? The Gorn tossed her the phaser and marched towards the door. Nugra: ::lying:: There were rumors in Starfleet Intelligence of androids are on the loose. If it has taken the ship, the rest of the command staff cannot be trusted. Never in his life would he have expected a Gorn to be the sort to pull a prank but there was no way he wasn’t going to witness this. Bag of crisps in hand he followed a few steps behind. Ellie held the phaser in the palm of both her hands, looking down at it as if it was something gross that she didn’t want to touch. Park: A.. android… Ilix: Can look and sound like anyone. ::He muttered whilst chewing:: She mumbled, trying to figure out just how the tables had turned from her scolding the Gorn to being told that there was a security breach. That somehow meant she needed to help him.. She briefly wondered if she had hit her head somehow. Nugra: You and I need to go to the bridge and secure it. If we must commit mutiny, that is what we will do. Park: A mutiny.. ::she repeated:: Tann looked behind them if only to conceal the absolute grin on his face and stifle the chuckle that almost escaped. The Gorn waited to see if his ridiculous hyperbole began to dawn on the woman. Something clicked inside Ellie and she made a point not to show it, instead deciding to play along. Park: You’re right! We could all be in danger. Nugra:Good that you were onboard. The Gorn was not an expert at reading facial expressions but the inflection of her voice was easy to pick up. There was a good chance she had realized what he was doing. Ilix: Mutinies for everyone! Park: But.. ::frowning:: How do I know you aren’t one of them? Nugra: What do you mean? Ilix: Androids can be anyone, but we have tests for that. ::Munch:: Ellie shook her head emphatically and pointed the phaser at Nugra. Park: No, there’s no time for tests. The crew could be in danger! I’ll just have to stun you and lock you in the brig before taking the bridge myself. ::She looked him in the eye, challenging.:: There was a reason that he handed out dead phasers that needed to go to engineering for repairs. Nugra: You think threatening a superior officer is the correct solution? Do you understand your duty to this ship? Ilix: ::munch:: Tann leaned against the wall and watched with amusement. Park: No, no. I understand my duty. It can’t be helped. You understand of course? Nugra: If you feel that you are cold blooded enough. Tann looked down at his bag, which was now mostly empty. He was running out of crisps. Park: And of course, you must also think I’m a FREAKING IDIOT! Ellie yelled and threw the phaser at his head, knowing that it really wouldn’t do any damage. The Gorn had survived an explosion to his torso. A medical officer throwing a phaser at him was surely laughable, but dang if it didn’t feel good anyway. The phaser bounced off his head barely making sensation. His scales were extremely tough so it would take a lot of abuse to get through. The Gorn let out a deep bellow which was his species equivalent of a laugh. He hadn’t laughed that deep in a long time. Tann did allow himself to laugh this time, this was a story he would cherish forever. “Did I ever tell you about the time I witnessed a Gorn prank?” Nugra: You are quite amusing to toy with, Lieutenant Park. Ellie scowled, crossing her arms in frustration. She did not enjoy being the butt of jokes. Park: Oh I am, am I? You are gambling with someone who could bench you from work you know! Ilix: For your sake sir I hope you don’t end up needing to go to Sickbay anytime soon. ::He smirked:: Ellie nodded and tried very hard to look serious. As if she would ever mistreat someone in need of care. Nugra: Oh? Someone had once told me that I had to learn to lighten up and laugh at things. I remembered that my people used to have jokes like this so I thought you would enjoy it. Park: ::sighing:: I think you need a lesson on delivery… Ilix: Gorn jokes? Definitely not what I expected, and yet even your jokes are dangerous. Nugra: I see comedy does not cross culture that easily but for the record. The look on your face is something I will treasure for quite some time. Park: Well I’m glad you enjoyed my suffering. I really thought I had to be worried about getting into trouble! Tann chimed in whilst still smiling, though he was out of crisps now the experience had definitely been worth it. As someone who was far from skilled at social interactions this was a learning experience. Ilix: To be fair, what Senior Commander Nugra said about Jalana is true. Her temper is worthy of aw, but it’s never once been directed at any of the crew. More than a few enemies of Starfleet have witnessed it though and it is both frightening and also heartening to know how much she cares about us. Nugra: Mister Ilix makes a good point. Park: Well that I can handle. ::glaring at Nugra:: I’m starting to think maybe you gave her reason to raise hell at you! Something I can relate to. The Tandaran smiled innocently at the two of them while he crumpled up his now vacant bag of crisps. Ilix: From a zoological standpoint this was fascinating. Who knew that a Gorn’s natural predator would be any woman under six feet. ::He chuckled:: Nugra: I have known Jalana quite some time…I’m not surprised. Park: Well you should be scared! Revenge is a dish best served cold my friend. Ellie glared at Nugra. She wasn’t angry anymore- annoyed yes, but now that she knew it was a joke she didn’t have it in her to stay mad. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t get the Gorn back somehow. ---- JP by: LtJG Dr. Eleanor "Ellie" Park Asst. Chief Medical Officer USS Constitution-B A238908T10 & Senior Commander Nugra Intelligence Officer USS Constitution-B As Simmed by Lt. Commander Diz'mim Ch'Nilmani First Officer USS Constitution-B NCC 9012-B V238008N10 & Lieutenant JG Tann Ilix Intelligence Officer As simmed by Lieutenant JG Lystra Tactical/Security Officer USS Constitution-B NCC-9012-B Writer ID: A239410TR0

((Flores & T’Ama’s Quarters - Deck 19, USS Constitution-B)) ((Time Index: Two days into shore leave)) Rachel set down the PADD, at least having enough self-restraint not to throw it across the room. Dunsel had been patched up and she didn’t want to give T’Ama another reason to think that she was unstable. Wherever her roommate was. But it didn’t make her any less disappointed and disheartened by the results of the engineering competency test on the PADD screen in red letters. 62 percent. She had aced all her technical exams during retraining at Starfleet Academy. There was no excuse for this! The door opened and T'Ama entered pushing a hovering anti-grav trolley with a packing crate on it. She tucked it along one wall. T'Ama: Computer, set lights to 20% brightness. The lights immediately dimmed. Did she care that her roommate was working in here? Not particularly. Rachel wouldn't be her roommate much long anyway. Rachel looked up when the lights suddenly dimmed by 80% with a moment’s warning. She looked up and took note of T’Ama’s presence. But she’d seen T’Ama hundreds of times, that wasn’t an unusual sight. More interesting was the anti-grav trolley carrying a large crate. Flores: ::With a hint of irritation:: No, it’s fine, I wasn’t using that or… what’s in the crate? T'Ama removed her eye patch and looked around. Her right eye wasn't quite exactly the same as the other one anymore. Perpetually squinting to try to minimize the double vision. She grabbed the crate and dropped it on her bed. T'Ama: I'm moving out. That was news. Rachel just stared at the tabletop for a long minute of silence. She had guilt tripped T’Ama over this possibility the second she mentioned getting promoted to lieutenant junior grade. She was upset. Angry. Scared. But she took a moment to collect her thoughts and only gave the simplest acknowledgement of the news. Flores: Oh. T'Ama: I have been transferred to the USS Artemis. The way she said it was very, very Vulcan. Devoid of emotion, matter of fact. Anyone who knew her well would know this usually meant she was upset, or grumpy, or stressed. Flores: Right, sure. T’Ama: ::grunts:: Mm. Had Rachel been Vulcan this is probably where the conversation would have ended. A Vulcan would have accepted the news, maybe said something that mildly implied they might miss her if they had been particularly fond of her. But her roommate was not Vulcan, and lately hadn't been particularly stable even for a human, so she kept talking. Flores: Without wishing to say I told you so, I did say as soon as you told me you’d gotten promoted that this would happen. Granted it’s to a different ship and not just another room. At least it finally- ::She trailed off.:: So much for being calm and collected and giving a well-considered response. Rachel stopped herself and held up a hand to indicate T’Ama shouldn’t say anything until her damaged brain caught up with her mouth. T'Ama turned from her packing to see the hand up, and waited in silence, squinting a little to try to eliminate the double vision. Flores: No, I’m not gonna go there. Not again. ::Rachel frowned:: We’ve kind of been avoiding talking much since that little discussion. And I want to clear the air. I regret saying what I said. I just felt like life was, and is, collapsing around me. I’m still not on duty, my brain is still healing, and I’ve driven off one of the few remaining sources of familiarity. It’s scary. T’Ama: It's not personal, and it was bound to happen eventually. Both of those things were true. It was illogical to think their careers would progress at the same pace. Flores: You might have wound up here by accident. But I like you, I’d like to consider you a friend. And I don’t have many of those here in this time. It’s been nice to have somebody who ::As she looked at her roommate, something finally caught her attention about her roommate’s face. And realized she had been wearing an eyepatch:: By the Great Bird of the Galaxy, what horrible injury happened to you? T'Ama stared, head tilting slightly. Rachel liked her and considered her a friend? She didn't have many of those either. She felt like crying if the mere thought of doing that in front of someone wasn't deeply mortifying - and who knows how her eye would take it. T’Ama: ::quietly and bitterly:: Something stupid happened and they say I should have it removed. Some misfiring neurons deep in her brain took pleasure in that. Ha! So she wasn’t the only one to wind up horribly injured by dumb luck and stupidity. But the more rational part of her had regular person concerns like why T’Ama was losing her eye and how she needed support. Flores: Removed? Why? T'Ama: It's sensitive to light. ::gestures vaguely at the dimness:: Sees double. Painful. Can't keep it patched all the time or the optic nerve will die and then I won't be able to replace it. Rachel sighed and shook his head. They really were having the worst of luck recently. Flores: Aren’t we just two birds of a feather? Getting injured by stupid things. T'Ama: I'm just not… ready to lose a body part. It's… scary. It wasn't quite as awful as Rachel's situation. There were good things happening too, things she'd dreamed of and wanted, but also this huge thing that would alter her body - her life - forever. Everything was happening at once and she was just so tired. She wanted to be angry still about T’Ama’s not-abandoning abandoning her. Her blood was still boiling over her minimal competency on the engineering exam. But the news had taken a lot of the wind out of her sails. Maybe now wasn’t the time to yell at her soon-to-be-ex-roommate. She was having the best and worst day of her Starfleet career so far simultaneously. Rachel fumbled for something eloquent or comforting to say. Scary. She understood things being scary. Flores: I know what you’re going through. T’Ama: ::raises an eyebrow:: Losing a body part? A fair point. Rachel looked down at her own body, as if to remind herself that she had no artificial implants or body parts. That wasn’t what she meant. She should have thought through what she was going to say a bit more. Flores: No, well, of course not. I mean, not directly, but I- ::Rachel paused:: I have watched a friend go through this before. Just with a hand and not with an eye. T’Ama: Lystra? Flores: Yeah, Lystra. She likes to brag about it, so you might already know, but I designed her prosthetic hand. You know, back when I was… smart. Worked with Doctor Whatshisname to test the design. I sat with her while she was getting prepped for surgery. Until recently I did regular maintenance on the hand. All that to say that when a friend needs me and is going through something like this I’ll be there. Wherever, whenever. Rachel wasn’t really equipped to give T’Ama good support. They were both scared, both dealing with injuries that posed a serious change to their life circumstances. Nothing was ideal about this. But that was life in Starfleet. T’Ama: Even if we aren’t on the same ship? T’Ama paused her packing and sat next to Rachel on the couch, pressing both hands together with her knees. Flores: If you want someone to be with you when… or to come visit after, or anything like that. ::She paused:: Not like I’ll be missing out on all the duty shifts I can’t do if I come visit. T’Ama was a proud person, so Rachel wouldn’t be surprised if she would say no and not want anyone to see her in that state. But if she needed her she would be there. T’Ama blinked at her for a few seconds and then did the most outrageously un-Vulcan thing she’d ever done: she threw her arms around Rachel and hugged her. T’Ama: ::hugging Rachel:: I’m gonna miss you! She was a bit surprised to see this side of T’Ama. The hugging, the crying, the earnest emotional admissions. Rachel returned the hug, trying to be the cool and collected one and failing miserably at it. Flores: Hey, don’t cry, or I’m gonna- too late. ::Rachel trailed off, letting the tears do as they pleased:: I’m gonna miss you too, T’Ama. T’Ama pulled back and wiped at her eyes. At least it didn’t sting her bad eye to cry. T’Ama: Sorry. ::sniffling, weepily:: Thank you for being a friend. Rachel shook her head while using her sleeve to wipe away the tears still pooling in her eyes. Were she not playing with one brain lobe tied behind her back there were so many more thoughtful and cogent things she’d like to say. T’Ama had been the accidental roommate she didn’t know she needed, someone who was there to pull her out of her shell whether she wanted her to or not. Another person on the ship besides Lystra she could call a friend. Flores: No, thank you for being mine. I’ll always be your friend, T’Ama. Please don’t be a stranger. You know how to get in contact with me. ::Her voice cracked a bit:: Go show people on the Artemis how it’s done, ma’am. Raining on T’Ama’s parade over her initial promotion was a regret she still struggled with. She’d never given her the proper due for earning her promotion to lieutenant. So, for the first and hopefully not last time, she addressed her properly and composed herself long enough to give a salute. Then she scurried off to her room to let her friend pack in peace without her blubbering. So much for a dignified goodbye. No, not a goodbye. A “see you later”. --- Lieutenant JG T'Ama Acting Chief of Operations USS Chin’toka C240004T11 & Ensign Rachel Flores Engineering Officer USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

((Bridge - Deck A, The Good Ship Lollipop)) ((Time Index: The 27th Century)) Rachel always found herself nodding off since her head injury. Especially bad as first officer of the Lollipop. She sat up in her chair on the bridge, looking around. How had she fallen asleep on the bridge? She looked over at Captain Rex McMillan. Glad to see him alive again after his dying on the Forthwith. And now in command of the Lollipop. It was a good ship. She turned to the panel off to her left side to get a status update. Which was difficult, the text seemed to change to gibberish every time she tried to focus on it and read it. McMillan: Uniform inspections! Everyone line up. She looked up from her control panel in confusion. Flores: Uniform inspections? Captain McMillan glared at her as the rest of the bridge crew stood up. He was a gruff captain. How she ended up going from chief engineer to first officer still mystified her. She felt like an imposter on the bridge. McMillan: Of course, Commander Flores. What kind of first officer forgets about the uniform inspections? ::To the assembled bridge crew:: Everybody, line up! If she had remembered she really would have put a bit more effort into her appearance. Rex was going to find so much to criticize her over. Flores: oO Why did I forget about uniform inspections, I should have shined my boots. Oo Rachel stood up and went to one end of the line, dreading when he came to her. Captain McMillan started with the Betazoid chief science officer. His uniform was spotless, as usual. McMillan: Very good. Next up, a Caitian comms officer. How did she never have any fur on her uniform? She had to have a lint roller stowed away beneath the communications console. It was the only explanation for how she always did so well. McMillan: Nice work. The chief tactical officer was up next. He put them all to shame. McMillan: Mirror polish on your boots, ensign. Excellent work. Then it was her turn. McMillan: Commander Flores, you’re in the wrong uniform. You’re out of date. She looked down at herself and realized that it was indeed the wrong uniform. Everyone else’s silver metallic-looking fabric uniform with division color piping on the cuffs looked the same. Not her. She was wearing her old blue jumpsuit with yellow colored stripes on the shoulders like some kind of primitive astronaut from a time before gravity plating and good food in space. A visual marker that she did not belong. Flores: Oh! Well, I… The captain scrutinized her further as she spoke, looking alarmed. McMillan: And your teeth, half of them have fallen out! Get to sickbay. Flores: They’re what?! Rachel turned to a console and shut off the display. In her reflection she could see half of her teeth missing and others starting to fall out. How had she missed it? Flores: ::Meekly:: Yes captain. She was confused. The uniform, the teeth, the feeling of being out of place. Why did everything bad happen to her? She left the line of officers and made the walk of shame across the bridge to the turbolift to report to sickbay. ((Primary Sickbay - Deck F, The Good Ship Lollipop)) Their CMO, a Klingon transfer officer still in full Klingon uniform, was waiting for her. When she entered sickbay, Rachel immediately got an ugly look from the doctor. She sat down on a biobed and waited for Doctor G’Renn to approach. G’Renn: And what are you here for this time? Another accident you got yourself into? Flores: My… teeth. Another annoyed huff came from the doctor, disappointed in her propensity for getting injured. G’Renn: Right. I see you’re out of uniform again. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel… always out of time. Always out of time. Why did this always happen to her? She was a good person. She didn’t deserve to get zapped around time and space by the vengeful universe. It wasn’t fair that she was out of time. And she didn’t need to constantly be reminded of it and punished because of it. She didn’t choose to have this happen, short of not killing the future Starfleet away team that tried to send them to the future. She sighed and tried to push back on the doctor’s criticism. Flores: I don’t think that’s entirely fair. I’m trying my best. But adapting fully to this new time takes time. Plus I’ve been under some other stress lately. G’Renn: Yes, that number you did to your head. What were you thinking? Of course the doctor wanted to chastise her about that. As if she hadn’t heard enough about it and been reminded of it by everyone at any opportunity, or that every day brought fresh reminders that she’d done possibly irreversible damage to her head. It hardly seemed relevant to her current issue. Flores: ::Mumbled:: I wasn’t. But I really don’t appreciate- Ow! Rachel flinched, feeling a fresh pinch of pain. Flores: Can we just focus on fixing my teeth? G’Renn: Of course. I think that the easiest treatment would be to simply remove the affected area. You don’t really need your jaw. You stay here and I’ll go get the medical bat’leth. Rachel’s eyes widened in horror. Remove her jaw? Medical bat’leth? As soon as G’Renn had moved off to go grab the aforementioned tool, Rachel got up from the biobed and made a cautious but rapid advance towards the exit. She walked backward, keeping an eye out for anyone trying to stop her from leaving sickbay. Flores: You know, I really don’t think that’s a good idea! The Klingon doctor called out from the medical armory with an order. G’Renn: Nonsense! Sit back down, I’ll be right with you. Flores: Yes, but I really should be going back to work… She passed by someone else standing by the sickbay door. It was one of the servers from the Saloon back on the Conny. Dressed like an old west cowgirl and carrying a tray of plates and hyposprays. As Rachel tried to back out of sickbay, the server chimed in with her own suggestion. Server: Of course, but first you need to wake up. That made sense, it was a good- wait a second, what was a server from the bar doing in sickbay? And wake up from what? She looked back at her in confusion. Flores: What do you mean? Server: Rachel, wake up! ((The Saloon - Deck 10, USS Constitution-B)) ((Time Index: Day after the mission - 1300 Hours)) Rachel woke up with a start. She wasn’t stranded in yet another time that wasn't her own, about to have her jaw removed. She was at the bar in the Saloon, face planted on the counter. Her dreams had been so vivid since she had suffered her head injury. Vivid but nonsensical. And sometimes terrifying. What did it mean… and the nodding off in public. That was a problem too. Especially if she wanted to get back into her usual duties in engineering. The chief was never around. But she knew that the one time she napped on top of one of the warp core power transfer conduits would be the one time the chief would show up. Server: Rachel, you need to wake up. ::Pause:: Are you alright? Obviously she had fallen asleep. So obviously she said: Flores: Sorry, did I nod off? Server: Yeah, about twenty minutes ago. I was going to leave you in peace, but you seemed like you were having a nightmare or something. She nodded. Flores: Thanks. The waitress left to serve other customers while Rachel tried to regain her composure. It was awkward, falling asleep at the bar. She was sure that talk of her condition had started to spread throughout the ship. Still, some might assume she was either working herself to exhaustion or quite possibly very drunk. She was distracted from her worries by a flashing indicator on her PADD. A message. =/\= Private Message =/\= To: Ensign Rachel Flores & Lieutenant JG Ellie Park From: Lieutenant JG Lystra Pleaaaaaaaase tell me you both saw T’Aven’s shipwide? If you haven’t, buggy race. On the demon planet. We can have up to three people. Soooooo, who’s with me? The three of us on a buggy would be badass, dangerous and nigh unstoppable!!! I’ve been stuck in Sickbay for almost thirty hours. Pleaaaaasee say yes!! Lystra P.S. Since this is a normal race and not holo training for an insane mission I’m guessing the buggies won't have phaser cannons. So I call dibs on driving. =/\= End Private Message =/\= That sounded like a great bit of escapism. Rachel immediately started writing up a reply. =/\= Private Message =/\= To: Lieutenant JG Lystra & Lieutenant JG Ellie Park From: Ensign Rachel Flores Absolutely! I am so with you. You should definitely drive. You or Ellie. I for one wish to live long and prosper. So I will not be driving. I’ll handle any phaser cannon installation, though. I can probably manage that. Assuming I can remember to show up. - Rachel =/\= End Private Message =/\= Rachel was excited to do something fun rather than simply sulking in her quarters with engineering 101 flashcards to help retrain her brain. Leave it to Lystra to help get her out of the dumps. Her Boslic best friend had been a constant presence by her bed in sickbay. Although she hadn’t reached out to her in the weeks following. And Doctor Park would be there too, just in case. Although she had learned one important lesson from the hoverboard incident. Wear. A. Helmet. The waitress stopped back by with a slice of pecan pie. Either something she thought of on her own or a directive from Kincaid. Regardless, she smiled and started to dig in. Ensign Rachel Flores Engineering Officer USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

Indeed! Ba'el knows what's what!

Jalana has no idea who she is wearing other than that it is not a Rajel original as she would usually wear. But she liked it because it was flowy and dreamy and flowery. It makes her feel like a fairy princess.

I need to remember that blessing lol

((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)

The planet at T'Ama:

Amazing way to say that the trees got pollen

(( 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

Haha he knows well

((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

((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

LMAO

(( 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...

Forever and ever and ever!