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Telice Shagan

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Everything posted by Telice Shagan

  1. I could go, but if I'm on my own it won't be as fun ^^
  2. ((Private Bathrooms, Executive Tower, Starbase 118)) :: A kitchen staff was no different from a senior staff, assignments and departments broken down into who was in charge of and overlooked a key critical element of what was going on the plate for both enjoyment, aroma and consumption. A chef coordinated the people who brought it all together, from those responsible for fresh ingredients (something David would have done under normal circumstances), to the Lieutenant who developed the stock, and the Ensign who chopped ingredients to a precise measurement by eye, because his experience and his knowledge far surpassed anyone elses, including David. :: :: He was thankful to the kitchen staff, because they allowed him to step in tonight in lieu of the actual Chef who ran this kitchen. Perhaps more than most, David knew what it felt like to stand outside of it all, and sometimes the only role he could be in was that of an observer. This kitchen staff didn't know him, but they welcomed him. They were willing to work with him. :: :: For some reason, David saw the parallel. Here he was, finally, cleared to return to active duty. He knew he could have asked for his former rank. Maybe they would have given it back. He chose not to, at least not right now. Because of something not that Jessa taught him, or either Hollis, or Jenn Mar. Not what his old captain in the civilian trade, Michael Blade, passed on to him from an entirely different generation. :: :: Because his life before coming to Starfleet wasn't rank-based. From Ensign to an interrupted Captaincy, David knew that the cherished moments came from working alongside the people he wanted to get to know, and learn from them. He thought briefly about when he first met Ben Walter aboard the first Independence while stepping out and borrowing a private bathroom that had a replicator. :: :: He thought about the Furies Furnace, and about Shepard. About Walker. Meeting Jenn Mar for the first time and the furious blush because she was exceedingly beautiful, and reporting in to Admiral Anassasi. He thought about Makno, which made him think about Alana Devar, and Marcus Dickens, Allen Cruise... Faces and people engrained into his memories, and while they weren't always pleasant, they were cherished, for the opportunity to get to know them, even if only for what life allowed. :: :: He thought about this as he pulled on the gleaming white of the Dress, using a mirror in the bathroom. He straightened the cuffs and smoothed the shirt. Stiff, formal, uncomfortable... and this time he wasn't presenting awards or commending the performance of a crew. He was even able to get access to the ribbons and medals he had been awarded by Starfleet, along with a few others outside of Starfleet that belonged to a former life, a good life, that allowed him to meet and get to know people, even if sometimes it meant their arrest. :: :: No. David studied himself in the mirror, searching his own weathered face. He didn't know this crew. Perhaps with the exception of Ben and Kevin. He was glad to have this opportunity, though. So much happened so fast, and the faces of those who didn't make it graced his thoughts. Men and women who had died under his watch, or while serving with them, that forced his eyes closed to relive every action that had been taken. Sometimes they weren't by the book, and sometimes boarding on the edge of protocal. :: :: The truth of it was once he was out of the departments, whether it was tactical, security, science, intelligence, even as a marine lliason, once he was put into the command chain, he was never entirely sure what his role was, other than to be there when they needed him, and make the decisions that would affect the entire crew. And it was hard for him, because he was used to being actively involved and having something to do. He wasn't used to sitting in a chair, or having someone else do the work. :: :: He wanted to be in the frontlines, he wanted to be with them, out there in the field and active. Not stuck flying a desk, or limited to the chair. He wanted to search databases for clues, or stardive with his fellow crewmembers onto a planet to help search for whatever was the hot topic. He wanted to laugh, and sit co-pilot to the Helmsman and pull some Gs... as much time as he could get working the time together alongside people with distinguishing personalities, skills and experience that made them shine. :: :: David finished pinning the rest of his replicated medals and ribbons, glancing for a minute at his pipless collar. And he nodded finally. It was fitting. He didn't have to be an Ensign. He didn't have to be a Captain. He could just be himself, and approach either Katy Orman or Johanna MacLaren and ask for a dance. Hell, maybe even Kalianna Nicholotti. He could just hang out with Silveira and check out dive bars, be his wingman or backup. He could go down and take down terrorists with Ben on some military exercise, or maybe with the Marine officers. :: Cody: ::to himself, smiling:: Steal a ship out of drydock and go sail off for a few hours with some old and new friends. :: Court-martial was overrated anyway. He grinned in spite of himself. No. He was going to leave the pips off tonight. Besides, the replicator glitched and gave him five solids instead of just three and an open pip... or perhaps the system hadn't been updated. He stared at the solids briefly, then dumped them into the incinerator. oO Screw rank. Let's just have all the time in the universe and enjoy them together. Oo :: :: He nodded to himself and gave himself once last once over. :: ((Kitchens, Exectuive Tower, Starbase 118)) :: Returning to the kitchens, David saw his Sous Chef, Alfonzo, who glanced at him up and down, and nodded with a smile and wink. David returned the wink and took the opportunity to check on the Filet Mignon, then the mushrooms and eggplant. The aromas briefly swooned him, and for a moment, David felt like he was back home on Mars, in the kitchen and watching his father, Barnes Cody, futz around the kitchen preparing supper and opening a bottle to let it breathe. :: :: Heading over to the wines for the evening, David uncorked them. Since he had no way of knowing whether they came out of a temperature controlled environment, he took a small taster glass and splashed a little bit of the Picard, bringing the mouth under his nose to drink the aroma, then tasted the crisp, almost fresh green apple, and lingering short crisp finish. :: :: It was nice to step in and just be a part of a team that whipped up such fabulous food. He poured a taste of the Chateau St. Jean and held it up to look at the colour, and caught the unmistakable reflection of a Japanese woman with braided black hair down past her waist adorned in a Dress White uniform. Nicholotti's reflection captivated David a moment, studying her features captured in the refraction of light and glass. She stopped and just stood there inside the doors and blinked. He tasted the Cabernet and nodded, pouring another splash taste and turning around to greet her. :: Cody: :: smiling :: A good evening to you, Commander Nicholotti. :: A pair of blue-gray eyes landed on him. :: Nicholotti: You look... busy to say the least. Cody: Oh trust me, they could do this with their eyes closed without me. The kitchen staff here are the real miracle workers. :: She laughed slightly and her gaze wandered around the room. She nodded and David glanced back, catching Silveira back in the kitchen, and shook his head while silently laughing. oO Of course. Oo Did he blame Vitor? Not in the slightest. He was only glad the tactical officer was enjoying himself. :: Nicholotti: Ensign Silveira. Making more nougat? Silveira: Commander. It is a pleasure to see you again. ::Vitor nodded respectfully.:: Not really Ma'am, this night menu is far more exquisite. :: David found himself lingering on Kalianna, watching her. There was a light within her blue-gray eyes that shone bright. :: Nicholotti: I'm not sure when all of this will be ready, but I have a feeling that we're going to have some of the early birds here shortly. Cody: Thanks to Ensign Silveira here, both the appetizer and Pinot Gris should be out ready for them to consume and mingle. Silveira: And I was about to start placing them at the banquet room. ::Vitor was starting to move but glancing at both officers he said with a smile.:: I hope both of you don't take this the wrong way, but I am also a pretty good tactical officer, besides kitchen helper and escort. :: Nicholotti moved herself out of the flow of traffic and came near, loitering near the wall. A cook handed David a sampler plate of the Filet Mignon. :: Nicholotti: So what is that? :: David grabbed a fork and set it on the plate, handing it over to the Commanding Officer. :: Cody: A sampler of the main course, Filet Mignon. Enjoy. Nicholotti: It’s good. Almost too good. :: David passed over the glass of the thirty year old Chateau St. Jean Cabernet Sauvignon. :: Cody: Paired with this. Nicholotti: You know, you may have missed your calling. :: David flashed a normal smile for a change, instead of the crooked one so many knew him by. He took the glass from her fingers and set it aside. A cook frowned at him and took the used glass off the stainless steel table as she passed by. :: Cody: I don't get many chances to cook, so when the opportunity rises, I snag them. Amidst all this chaos, for me it's relaxing, and fun. Maybe in another life, I'll be a chef instead of a roving jack-of-all-trades, master of none. How about you? Nicholotti: Perhaps something less chaotic. :: Chuckling, David grabbed two fresh new glasses and measured a small pour of the appetizer paring, the Pinot Gris, one for her, and one for himself. :: Cody: What I know is in this moment, right now, right here, I don't have to be anything but David Cody. Out there, we're commanding officers, executives, department heads, and specialists with ranks from Crewmen up to Rear Admirals. In here, we're Vitor, and Alfonso over there, the sous chef, David, and if you want, ::winking at her:: just Kalianna. TAG! / TBC... =============================== LtCmdr. David Cody Chief of Operations UFOP: Starbase118
  3. I hope you guys know how lucky you are... We don't get anyone in France
  4. Oh wow I really felt Bale's pain there, horrible!!
  5. (( USS Discovery-C, The Eagle's Roost)) :: The Raskorian entered the bar, the delicious one. He was dressed well in attire which matched his fine feathers. The bird-like gait seemed to indicate confidence, although this well could have been anthropomorphizing the avian a bit. :: :: For a while longer, Cruella gazed hungrily at Doctor Aven. The lights in the bar were now several lumens brighter than she liked. Against this modest brilliance she was now armed with sunglasses. These were, unfortunately, enabling her new habit. It was a bad one - tasting people with her eyes. From the shadowy screen behind the bar with her eyes guarded by dark lenses Cruella watched the patrons more avidly than would have made them comfortable. She wanted his blood most of all. :: oO Doctor Aven Morning-song the Raskorian. oO :: Fortunately few thought of her new accessory as anything more than another symptom of her photosensitivity. :: :: Cruella was hoping that the Discovery's smallest doctor would come sit at the bar. Maybe he would want to "check up" on her recovery? :: :: Instead Aven went directly towards the coolest cat in the joint. The Raskorian bobbed up to Nickels as though he were the most approachable soul in the moodily-lit mess hall [...] lounge. :: oO [...]y thing. Oo :: She was at first furious at the slight. After forceful moments of reflection, Cruella realized she was not doing Aven justice. She had entirely neglected her hostess duties. There was more to keeping such a social job than waiting to be approached. As the amiable avian attempted a conversation with the morose mobster mook from Security, Cruella subtly began to approach the pair. :: :: She was wearing fancy clothes of her own. Although attached to her customary habit, she had felt the need for something new, some changes. No longer in bulky, shapeless shrouds with a hood and cowl, she wore a conservative dress extending to the floor. It was cut a bit closer than her Sister's habit, although not remotely indecent. It had long sleeves which she had tucked into the cuffs of dark gloves. A vivid red guimpe of crushed velvet further protected her neck and shoulders, while her head was concealed (apart from her face and the suggestion of impressive ears) by a layered velvet scarf of impenetrable darkness. The sunglasses made her look a bit like an aged movie star whom had escaped the silver screen to serve drinks. :: Nickels: response Aven: ::resisting the urge to run a medical scan to determine the level of Nickels intoxication.:: The color scheme is all mine however the design is from a file sent to me by an anonymous friend. Nickels: response Aven: What are you drinking Mr Nickels? Nickels: response Aven: Whiskey? A distilled alcoholic beverage made from fermented grain mash if I remember correctly. ::shuddering:: Well each to his own I suppose. I prefer the nectar of flowers myself. :: Cruella was near enough now to observe the fledgling conversation. She could pick up on the words. However, the contrast between the light and entreating mood of Aven and the dark demeanor of Nickels was dizzying - had she been reading them intently it might have been staggering. As it was, she still picked up on a seething, old wound Nickels was attempting unsucessfully to sterilize with ethanol. :: :: She politely inserted herself between them, concerned that the handsome Iotian Security officer might say something more brash. :: CRUELLA: Would I be presumptuous in bringing you some fresh nectar now, good doctor? ::The Reman woman smiled, her teeth in two regular rows. She then spoke to whomever might overhear in the vicinity, her voice a triumphant clarion.:: You know, I declare Doctor Aven saved my life, I believe. ::once more addressing the two:: Not that I expect a repeat performance of the Medical Arts will be necessary. oO Move on, move off from it. Fight the hunger. Oo NICKELS: (response) CRUELLA: ::businesslike tempo:: Very well then, sir. A double for the Ensign with a pair of friends to make sure he reaches home in good company. oO Dean Martin would could do little better. Oo ::She turned to face the Raskorian, between the two of them she was feeling an intriguing kind of heat. Her blood quickened just slightly, and licked her full lips involuntarily.:: And any particular nectar for the dapper Doctor? ::She forcibly comported herself, but the Raskorian body radiated more heat than the common Terran -- though perhaps she was merely indulging in a hematophage's fantasy.:: AVEN: (response) :: Cruella nodded in reponse, made to procure the orders, but was interrupted by a faintly slurred speech from the indigo-eyed Iotian. :: NICKELS: (response) :: She had, in fact, noticed. But some vague intuition, a feeling Nickels might have been sending desparately to any whom could read, this caused her a tricky thought. She fully intended to provoke the usually charming, if a bit oily, man. Some part of Nickels fought against *something* for his rank and all it meant to him. :: :: Uncharacteristically forward, Cruella sat on Nickels' lap - the sprawl which he had going defied physics to explain how he remained in seat, but left an open field for any temptresses. The way the Reman vampire cradled his young neck with one hand as her other turned his dress collar just so to catch the candle light was borderline menacing. :: oO Odd. I feel as though I should be on a harpsicord- No. A piano. Reclining on a piano, talking- no, not talking. Singing. Oo :: Even in a non-vampire, her elaborate show of inspection would have been considered predatory in anyone as old as she was. She looked at the new half-pip decorating Nickels' neck. Her guilty eyes, hidden from most behind shades, darted up to meet his infra-blue eyes and their rye-induced shine. His shiny pips reflected in her black lenses, the lenses reflected back complete with miniscule pips in Nickels' eyes. :: CRUELLA: ::playful, dusky tone:: Lookee here, the man has returned from disgrace. :: His warmth was intoxicating; she delicately lowered her hand from Nickels' neck to the fabric stretched between his shoulders. :: NICKELS: (response, if any) CRUELLA: Though I am just a working girl, I'd say the rank suits you, Lieutenant Nickels. ::She stood up, straightening her clothes with one hand, still hooked to Nickels' collar with the other.:: But junior grade under-rates you. ::She turned from Nickels, dragging the man slightly as she addressed the innocent bystander, Doctor Aven.:: ::in challenge:: Whaddaya say, Doc? What's the word on this ..specimen? Is he fit to serve or should we throw him back? AVEN: (response) oO Yes, I should stop tormenting the two of them. Oo CRUELLA: ::much more in her usual music style:: Coming right up, gentelmen. Don't stop the part on account of my absence. ::winkinging at the two of them:: If you're still here I'll top you off on my next round. AVEN/NICKELS: (response) :: With that she resumed her usual manner. :: :: No stranger to influencing the minds of others, Cruella sensed she had made a favorable impression on the silently brooding Nickels. She was less sure of Aven's take on her little display. Perhaps he would be jealous in some obscure manner? Perhaps he would worry after her state of health and well-being? Or maybe he would simply be disgusted. :: oO Digusted I know backwards and forwards. Oh, if only... I should so like to dive right into the thick of them and read away. Maybe add a few thoughts. Just a couple, innocent ones. Oo :: In a short while she brought them beverages. Content to to stir the pot once in a while, remaining a mild-mannered barkeep the rest of her shift. :: Sister Cruella (PNPC) Bartender The Eagle's Roost as simmed by Lt.Cmdr. Inarr "Steve" Rogg d'Squamos Chief Engineering Officer USS Discovery-C
  6. ((Ready Room, USS Discovery)) ::His arm still hurt from being mauled, even though Dr. Morning-Song had assured him it was fully healed. There were wounds that ran deeper, and to distract himself on the way back to DS-285, the Ba’ku Captain had ensconced himself in his ready-room, burying himself in reports and catching up on the new crew that had arrived during the mission. The ending was, to say the least, unexpected-to find Zero as an ally and Starfleet personnel as the enemy. He tapped away on the console, filling out the forms he could have easily left to Blueheart. Instead he’d left his XO on the bridge, babysitting the Sovereign as she arrived at the starbase. Outside the door Captain McCall stood with a padd, he had actually been outside for a few minutes but was yet to press the chime. He read and reread what was on the padd, eventually before eventually pressing the door chime.:: WALTAS::Head barely rising:: Enter. ::The doors hissed open and Tyr continued to type.:: MCCALL: I see that even as we arrive back at the station you are still trying to keep up with the paperwork. WALTAS::Continuing to type:: Hey Steve. Glad to hear you’re alright. I assume you’ve read the reports. MCCALL: I have and there is something that sticks out. WALTAS::Switching to another PADD:: What is it? MCCALL: The person, the people behind this have not been found and we are not going to find them from here. What they did is unacceptable. Too many people have died who need to get justice for what has happened and I think that I am the person to do it. ::The hands stopped typing. Raising his deep blue eyes to meet those of his friend, mentor and former CO, the Ba’ku pulled his graying hair back and blinked.:: WALTAS: Say again? MCCALL: ::handing over a padd.:: This is my formal request for transfer to Starfleet Intelligence Sol system so that I have a better chance to hunt down those that are responsible for this ::A storm of emotions struck him, all at the same time. He’d been with McCall since he was an Ensign. He’d learned everything there was to know about being a Commanding Officer from him. Now…the words that came from him were almost inconceivable.:: WALTAS::Putting down the PADD:: Steve…you can’t be serious. MCCALL: I am afraid that I am. WALTAS::Waving dismissively:: We’ll track the perpetrators down. And Starfleet Security already has half the sector on lockdown. We’ll find them. There’s no need for you to get directly involved. ::He paused, gazing at his long-time friend with a measured look:: There’s something else driving this. MCCALL: We have some of them but not those really behind this. More importantly, I have a wife and a son that I have not seen in ages. I think I am missing some of the better years. WALTAS::Sighing:: Well, that at least makes more sense. Although I pity those behind the bio-weapon with you on their trail. ::Rising from his chair, he stood at the window, gazing out at the stars. His voice was quiet when he spoke again:: WALTAS: We’ve served together since the very beginning. MCCALL: All things change Tyr. WALTAS::Turning:: Discovery won’t be the same without you, Steve. MCCALL: True, you will just have one less person to order about ::Nodding, he stepped toward his friend.:: WALTAS: I can’t change your mind? MCCALL: Not this time I am afraid ::The storm subsided, just for a moment. The Ba’ku extended his hand.:: WALTAS: Fair weather, Captain. MCCALL: Same to you and the crew ::When McCall grasped his hand Tyr pulled him into an embrace, knowing the businesslike Captain would never do so himself. He clapped his friend on the back and then let go.:: WALTAS::Blinking away tears:: I’ll let the crew know. MCCALL: No fanfare if you please. WALTAS::Innocently:: Of course not. No ceremonies. You can go quietly on your way. MCCALL: Thank you Skipper. ::Smiling, Tyr watched his friend leave, then sat back down, immediately sending a message to the crew to assemble on the docking area in 15 minutes in dress uniforms.:: WALTAS::Quietly:: And pigs will have warp capability.. ((15 minutes later, Docking Ring, DS-285)) ::The dress whites were a little more snug than they used to be, and definitely more snug than when he was an Ensign. He stood at the end of a long line of officers, resplendent in their dress whites and all standing at parade rest. Tyr kept his eyes fixed on the door that linked Discovery with the station. When they opened and McCall appeared with his things, Tyr snapped to strict attention and spoke in a loud voice.:: WALTAS: Honors, HUP! Officer departing. Attention! ::The entire hallway filled with the crew of the USS Discovery, and, Tyr knew, the ghosts of the past as well, stood in quiet attention and respect as McCall made his way toward him.:: ::Tyr smiled as McCall reached him.:: MCCALL: You just could not help yourself could you? WALTAS: This? Oh, we just all happened to be in our dress whites as we left the ship. New procedure. You know Starfleet. There’s one every day. ::Growing serious:: I couldn’t let you leave without giving you the respect you deserve, Steve. This ship is losing one of its best. MCCALL: Sure you will get by without me. WALTAS::Snapping to attention:: Yes sir. :: Steve McCall turned to the assembled officers, some like Rode Mitchell he had known for years and years, others sure as Meng Tian who he had really only just got to know. Others had arrived during the current mission and he had never really even me them.:: MCCALL: I have always been a man of a few words and this is not going to be an exception. I have served with some of you for a long time, others of you for practically no time at all. In one form or another I have served on a ship called Discovery for a long time. During all of this time officers come and go, one person does not make a crew, you will get on fine without one person whoever they are. Whether you realize it or not you as a crew are a family. When times are tough you will need to be there for each other. I suppose in many ways this last mission is a good example of that. Goodbye and good luck crew of the USS Discovery. :: McCall turned away from the crew, gave Tyr a quick nod and headed through the docking hatch to go to Earth and his wife and son.:: Captain Tyr Waltas Commanding Officer USS Discovery -and Captain Steve McCall Director of Intel Starfleet Command
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