Alora DeVeau

Next time I need to do a pain scale, I am using this!

Because we all know how trigger happy @Kimonzi Lahl is.

Meanwhile...

Richards is trigger happy.

Hush you.

I was first. 😛

How'd you know?

[Prologue] LtCol Wes Greaves - Through the Lens of Resolve ((Backsim, Day Prior to Arrival at Koreli IV)) ((Wes Greaves’ Quarters, Deck 12, USS Octavie E. Butler)) :Wes Greaves leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of the starship’s engines filling the silence of his quarters. The PADD in his hand displayed lines of text, old mission logs he’d pulled from the Federation database. He’d been reading for hours, immersing himself in the details of past encounters with the Zet. Each entry reignited a quiet frustration that had taken years to build. He placed the PADD carefully onto the desk, his expression unreadable as he rubbed a hand over his face. Greaves: Computer, replay log entry 7264-A, USS Thor mission report. The PADD chirped, and a clipped recording began to play. It was a familiar voice, one that Wes had worked with before—Fleet Captain Aron Kells, recounting the horrors they’d witnessed during the Zet’s manipulative dealings. Wes’s jaw tightened ever so slightly as the details of commodified life and moral bankruptcy spilled from the tiny device. He folded his hands in front of him, the only outward sign of the emotions simmering beneath his calm facade. The Zet. A society so warped that every breath, every moment, carried a price tag. It wasn’t just abhorrent; it was a perversion of everything the Federation stood for. He let out a slow breath, quiet and controlled, before picking up the PADD again, scrolling through the detailed account of the USS Oumuamua’s disastrous encounter with the Zet. The logs spoke of captured Starfleet officers, manipulated through twisted contracts and overwhelming greed. He tapped a finger on the edge of the PADD, the only betrayal of his mounting distaste. His gaze drifted briefly to the viewport before refocusing on the logs. He remembered his first encounter with the Zet aboard the Endless Golden Penetrator. The ship had been a prototype, designed to escape a nebula surrounding the Zet homeworld—a feat that only underscored how primitive it was by Starfleet standards. It had been drifting, abandoned by its Zet owners after its usefulness had run out. He’d boarded it with an away team, finding the crew starving and desperate. They’d been left to die—just another line item written off in some Zet ledger. Wes had felt pity then, though he hadn’t allowed himself to show it. How could anyone… anything, treat sentient beings as disposable tools? The thought lingered, as bitter now as it had been then. He scrolled further through the logs, pausing as a familiar name appeared: Anroc. The memory returned with stark clarity. Meeting the Zet ruling caste for the first time had been like stepping into another universe. The opulence of their chambers had been grotesque—gold, jewels, and luxury so extravagant it bordered on the absurd. Yet outside, the working caste toiled in filth and squalor, eyes downcast and faces hollow. Wes had kept his voice steady, his face blank, but the contrast had churned his stomach. He’d watched Anroc and his peers, their smug indifference etched into their faces, and felt an icy revulsion he hadn’t dared to show. Wealth was their god, and morality had no place in their worship. He had no illusions about their kind. His grip on the PADD shifted as another entry caught his eye. Port Coray. The slave market. The images surfaced as vivid as ever. The market had been a sprawling labyrinth of misery, filled with faces—young and old, human and alien—all chained and waiting to be sold. The away team had moved in quietly at first, freeing as many as they could. Wes had led them, in no small part due to V’Len Kel’s reckless urging. When the Zet had discovered them, what followed was a running battle through the station. Phasers had burned the air, and his training had guided him like muscle memory. It was a memory that had stayed with him. Wes exhaled slowly and moved to the viewport, his hands clasped behind his back. The quiet darkness of space stretched out before him, vast and indifferent. Somewhere out there, the Zet were waiting, sharpening their metaphorical knives for the next deal. This mission would be no different. They’d try to twist the Danni—a race Wes had never even met—into servitude or worse. It was what they did. It was who they were. Greaves: Damn vultures. The words were quiet, almost inaudible. The Federation’s principles were a shield for the weak, but against the Zet, that shield was too often a fragile thing. They didn’t play by the same rules. The idea of meeting with the Zet again filled him with a calm but unshakable resolve. There was no avoiding it. Greaves: Not this time. Not again. He turned back to the desk, picking up the PADD with deliberate care. If they were going to face the Zet, then he’d be ready. Preparedness was one thing he could control. He’d study their tactics, their patterns, and he’d make sure the Butler and her crew wouldn’t be caught off guard. Not if he had anything to say about it. Greaves: Computer, queue all Zet-related reports from the last five years. Cross-reference with Federation economic intelligence. Prioritize anything involving the Danni. The computer chirped in acknowledgment, and Wes’s focus deepened. There was no room for error with the Zet. Not now, not ever. With a quiet sigh, he settled back into his chair and began reading again. The mission ahead promised to be messy, but if the Zet wanted a fight, they’d find one. He’d make sure of it. And if he could protect the Danni from the Zet’s insidious grasp, even a little, then maybe he’d sleep better once this was all over. ========================= Lieutenant Colonel Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Octavia E. Butler NCC-82850 E239702WG0 =========================

Don't quack like a duck, soar like the USS Eagle! Quotes, quips, things that make you laugh, things that make you cry, they all go here!

((Denali - Ring 42)) ((OOC: this take place after the ceremony, of course)) The wind had grown stronger than a light breeze during the night, carrying dark clouds, and the waves had grown accordingly. The weather on Denali was the same day after day, but from time to time, a day like that one occurred, and there was no forecast for it. It was no weather to sail, not from that beach, but Drex was in no mood to sail anyway. He sat on the sand, where the water could barely reach his nacked feet and wet them. He sat with his legs slightly bent, one knee touching the sand laterally and the other bent towards his chest. He drew meaningless lines on the humid sand. From time to time his gaze went from the drawings to the waves and back to the sand. oO Do you think they will let me create this in the holodeck? Oo With his hand he smoothed the sand, erasing the drawings. A year and two months. That was how long it had been since Dominique had asked him that question. And they both knew it wouldn’t be the same. Drex: But are you sure it will be enough for you? :: He murmured remembering his reply :: He wiped the sand off his hand on his pants and let his gaze wander over the growing sea. Patches of white foam stained the otherwise blue surface. The air was heavy with iodine and the sweetish scent of rotting, beached seaweed. A longer wave pushed forward, threatening his pants, followed by two more equally brave waves. Drex stood up and took a few steps back. The weather was getting worse. oO It's getting mad at you. Oo The rough voice of his conscience awoke. Drex: Do you want me to leave? At first the sea seemed to retreat, but then it launched a new attack and the water rolled around his ankles. Drex: Do you want me to stay? Even if the sea gave him an answer, he could not change the orders that had come that night. Ten hours. Ten hours to report to the USS Eagle. Ten hours to say goodbye to those left behind on Denali. Ten hours to call home and face his father for the thousandth time. And he had spent half of that time on that beach staring at the sea, and memorizing sounds and scents. Trying to decide if he had to go or give up. Drex: I don't want to hear ‘I told you so’. oO You won’t be home to see your niece be born. Oo Why did his conscience have to twist the knife in the wound? oO Your schedules will never match Dominique's. It won’t work. Oo He let out an annoyed grunt. He bent down to pick up a rock and threw it forcefully at the oncoming wave. Drex: I know all of this! :: He screamed to the water :: oO Resign! Oo Drex: I’m not done here yet! oO You’re not gonna stay here anyway. Oo Drex: I may return. oO Or you may not. Oo Drex: If others can do it, so can I. oO But you’re not the others. A spaceship is no place for you. For us. Oo Drex: You mean for you. oO Doesn’t make any difference. You can’t live staring at a black sky out of your windows. Oo Drex: No, I can’t. :: He murmured :: But if I resign… oO You’ll admit he was right. Oo He shook his head in an attempt to shuffle the dice again and dissuade his conscience from continuing that discussion. oO You'll make her worried. Again. Oo Drex: Ayra will have a child to look after. I won’t go back to Kalus. oO You’ll disappoint her. Oo Drex: I’m not so sure she will go. Ships are no place for kids either. The water had dug into the sand around his feet, causing him to sink, each new wave pushing him deeper. But Drex did not move. oO You’re doing well Drex Oo A gentler voice crept into his mind. Drex: Ayra… I’m sinking. oO Are you sinking into a glass? You can swim as well as me, better than me. Oo He tried to reply, but the wind swelled her voice. oO You can do it, I know it. Oo The wind roared and swelled the sea so much that the next wave swept over him. With his feet stuck in the sand, Drex fell to the ground, barely managing to cover his face with his right arm before closing his eyes. The sea overwhelmed him and he began to struggle, trying to free himself and bring his head to the surface. But his feet held him inexorably to the bottom. He had never seen a storm like that hit Denali. Darkness enveloped him and with it, the silence. His heart pounded in his ears. Fear made him kick hard and open his eyes. Morning light filtered through the window of his apartment on the 38th floor of the Soldotna tower. During the night, the sheets had rolled up around his ankles. It took him several seconds and several deep breaths to put everything in order in his head. A dream. An awful nightmare. He reached out to grab the PADD from the bedside table: “Lieutenant Drex - Transfer order”. No, it was the awful reality. Despair fought over his heart and mind and his hand trembled, but soon anger took over and he hurled the PADD at the opposite wall. NT / END ============ Lieutenant Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

Barbara always gives lovely insights into Drex and his life. IC: ((Baudin’s villa, Palombaggia, Corsica, Sol III)) Drex stretched his hand over the sheets. He turned his head and forced his eyes open. The side of the bed was empty. Leaving his arm out, he turned his head to the other side and looked at the door heading to the living room. A soft light illuminated the frame allowing him to see the silhouette of the armchairs in the almost dark room. He did not close the curtains before going to bed, so it had to be very late (or very early) at night. He pushed his leg out of the bed and sat on the edge. He stifled a yawn badly and raised both arms in the air, stretching. As he breathed deeper, the scent of some bread cooked in the oven reached his nose, his brain and, finally, his stomach. A significant rumble reminded him he had skipped dinner the night before. Wearing only the light trousers of his pajamas, he left the comfort of the bed and walked out of his bedroom. The soft light was coming from the kitchen spotlights. Barefoot, he silently approached the woman who was fiddling with bowls and flour. When he passed his arms around her waist, she pushed her head backwards, resting it against his shoulder. Baudin: Have I woke you up? Drex shook his head slowly, watching her hands kneading a soggy ball. Baudin: But it's not your usual hour… Drex: I felt something was amiss. Why are you awake? Baudin kept silent as she finished giving a shape to the ball and sprinkling it with flour. Drex waited patiently. Dominique did not usually cook and did not usually wake up in the middle of the night. She could have changed some habits since they graduated Ensigns, but Drex was more of the idea something was in her mind. The Denobulan knew there was no point in repeating the question, so he bowed his head slightly, touching her hair with his cheek. She smelled of salt water and vanilla. Baudin: The flour is finished and I didn’t find any yeast... Drex: What have you used then? Baudin: I know some chemistry… Drex: Do I have to guess? She put the dough in a pan and pushed Drex back with her body to free herself and reach the oven. Baudin: Are you good at chemistry? Drex grabbed a purple oval fruit from a bowl on the counter and gave it a bite. He pondered his answer while chewing. Drex: Took some classes a long time ago. But I know what’s usually in the kitchen. And :: He vaguely pointed at a blue and white can :: you left the container visible. Dominique set the timer on the oven. Baudin: It works, I already cooked this :: She broke a small piece of bread from the already baked loaf. :: Since we're awake, we may have breakfast and then walk to the pier. You promised me. Drex studied her movements and expressions. Words were her usual, but not the tone. She was faking her enthusiasm for the promised sailing trip. He nodded and smiled slightly. Breakfast was an easy task. He had bought those horrible herbal teas she loved. Drex finished the purple fruit and put some water to boil. While waiting, he prepared two cups of fruit salad. He could hear her setting the table. Baudin: Do you really like your place? Drex: I'm planning to move near the beach. I'm just waiting for the power lines to reach that area. If she wanted to play cards face down, he would do the same. Baudin: That's a nice plan, but I wasn't talking about your quarters. He put the knife in the sink and turned around with the cups in his hands. Drex: What you were talking about, then? She shook her head, sitting. The Denobulan put a bowl in front of her and one on the other side of the table. He was going to sit himself down when a whistle informed them that the water was ready. He walked back to the kitchen giving her more time to think. Giving him more time to think. She was acting strange and he did not know her well enough to read her silences. Baudin: My unit is going to be dismissed. Drex finally sat and let her know she could go on talking with a single “mh”. But she did not talk. Drex: You wanted to transfer anyway, didn't you? Now you don't have to worry about the opinion of your commander. Baudin: I've been offered to lead a research project on MH64222. Drex: Leading a project? That's great! :: His enthusiasm faded in a second :: Wait! Where is MH64222? Baudin: Very far away from the Aavaro Wilds. :: She murmured :: They remained silent, pondering the meaning of that transfer. Dominique prepared two filters and filled them with dried herbs. She never looked at the Denobulan sitting on the other side of the table. So was that it? Was she leaving him? Drex shook his head, dismissing the thought. To leave someone, you had to be together first, and they had agreed that they would not go beyond sporadic meetings when their schedules allowed. Her moving away only meant that the possibilities would be reduced. Drastically. oO You don't love her, you've only got used to her. Oo That wasn't entirely true. He didn't love her the way he knew he could love, but he had let her through his armor. Her announcement had made his stomach churn and created a heaviness in his chest. Baudin: I’m… Drex: There have been rumours in the last days on Denali. He interrupted her before she could say anything else, whether it was an apology, or the confirmation that she had already accepted the assignment. Baudin: What kind of rumors? Drex picked up his cup, watching the wisps of smoke rising from the surface, and inhaled the spicy cinnamon scent. Drex: Many kinds, as on every unit. But the most interesting is the Commodore’s upcoming retirement. I don’t know if it is true, but I know what I see on Dark Denali and it would not surprise me if she’d decide to give up her career for that woman. Baudin: And… What would this have to do with us? She had finally looked up at him again. Drex shrugged. It was curious she had used the word us and he did not forget to notice it. He put the cup down without drinking. Although he liked the smell, he wasn't as enthusiastic about the taste and temperature of that broth. Drex: Maybe nothing, maybe everything. As I'm sure you're aware, a change at the top can lead to some pretty big changes. I could… It was her time to interrupt him. Baudin: I know you love Denali. I remember how happy you were when you got the assignment to the Ring when we graduated. You need that place as much as I need to accept the offer they did to me. She pushed back her chair and stood up and walked around the table to get to him. Drex followed her every move and when she stopped behind him, he let her lean over him and hug him from behind. Baudin: We've always agreed, right? Never serve on the same unit. Drex rested his right hand on the fold of her arms. Drex: We agree. That one rule was the reason their unique relationship worked. They were both young and the project will come to an end sooner or later. They had found a way to meet regularly over the past year, they would in the future. He just had to figure out where this planet, or satellite, or alien station was. If the fleet was sending her there, they would send ships and shuttles every now and then, he just had to find out when. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest and stomach didn't go away, but it seemed to have at least eased. Baudin: We have two days before we have to leave. And you promised me too much to sit here and brood over. NT / END ============ Lieutenant Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

So glad to have @Wes Greaves back!

My father in law is a genetic therapist. He's kept all sorts of things in his freezer!

After coming back from temporal shenanigans, meeting strange faces that are strangely dressed make one paranoid that there are still people suffering from time displacement. Well...not quite.... IC: ((Outside Upper Holodecks, Deck 7, USS Octavia E. Butler)) Varic: …Honestly, I thought you were the women my friend here has been trying to recruit to play succubi for our session. So I just shot. ::he shrugs:: I did think you were dressed oddly, but... why were you chasing him? Forsyth: A what, no? Nis: Some ancient human monster, right? Katsim: I don’t know…we’re not these…succubi. None of them were familiar? He gave a dramatic disappointed sigh as if knowing they were missing out on some crucial experience, he pitied them almost. Lenie: I don’t recognize them. And they’re Officers, Var! Forsyth: You don’t recognise Commander Katsim? Commander Katsim? He blinked before looking at Lenie and gave a little shrug. Varic: No? ::He clears his throat:: I work in the morgue. It’s usually a good thing if I haven’t seen you. One of the few jobs no one in the medical department really wanted to take on. Mortuary sciences however was his specialty. Lenie: Response Nis: Oh. Well that settles it. You’re definitely from the Butler, alright. Katsim: That’s good to know. Forsyth: Sorry, we thought you were a misplaced stowaway. He gave a little wave of his hand as if to dismiss the entire situation. Varic: It’s fine, we can’t expect everyone to recognize the difference between an elf and vulcan ::he adjusts a pendant on his chest:: Usually this magic sigil is the big indicator if someone knows the game we’re playing or not, it's very popular on earth. Ah, those academy days of plotting synchronized holodeck check outs to get an entire weekend camp out without having to leave campus. He missed those days. Nis: A magic … what? Lenie: : Response Forsyth: It's alright, Lieutenant. Varic: We have room if you wanted to join, a few folks who usually join us needed a break after the whole… incident, and need to spend more time in… ::finger quotations:: reality. Lenie: Response Nis: Well, can you give us the bow and arrow? We’d like to see it. He looked at Lenie then shrugged before offering the bow to Jania. Unexpectedly they’d knock the arrow, turn and shoot him straight in the chest. Honestly, he should have expected that. Nis: That’s what you get for shooting me! Varic: Lenie… don’t you dare roll damage. ::Clearing his throat:: We.. we need to get back to the holodeck and use what time we have left. ::taking his bow back, he dramatically flipped the cape behind him his accent returning:: We must tary no longer, Swiftfeet, let us away! Lenie/Forsyth: Response Nis: Just don’t get hurt. Their voices became a distant sound. Once more the thought of adventure and heroics consumed the half-bajoran’s thought. No longer was he Varic Rion. He was the bane to those that stalked the night. A hunter of his kindred. He was Xerxes Nightwalker. He was the Hero of this story… And Lenie er… Swiftfeet was there too. [End scene for Varic] Lieutenant JG Varic Rion Science Officer USS Octavia E. Butler Played by: -- Lieutenant JG Sevantha Saa Counselor USS Octavia E. Butler A240105SS2

(ooc: just a one-off solo sim. I wanted to put a capstone on Yinn and Loq's entanglement, but it needed to be a private moment between the two.) Yinn held it together. Bolians didn't let down the group. And Starfleet officers didn't let their feelings get in the way of the mission. So she held it together, fighting cutists, evading the Borg, getting the crew safely back to their own time. She held it together going to sickbay, confirming nearly everyone had made it back. She held it together through debriefing. Promontory placed her on leave and she barely managed to say more than "aye, sir," but she managed. She somehow held it together all that time, through the yawning chasm of loss she felt. She had lost half of herself. Half of her body, half of her mind, half of her soul. What was left? She knew, objectively, medically, scientifically, things were back to normal. But she had never felt less normal in her life. Her thoughts were sluggish. Her body was unbalanced. And she couldn't remember what she couldn't remember. She had flashes of her parents on Hitorah, a vague sense of how it felt to be stabbed during warrior training, just flashes, bits and pieces. Even the last mission wasn't clear. She was at a party, she was in the science lab, she was threatening someone, it was all a blur. Her head was swimming since the jump through time, and yet she held it together. Until the moment she walked into her quarters and saw Qurgh'Loq waiting for her, and her heart turned to water and her vision went blurry and she fell into his arms, arms that used to be her arms, pressed her face into a chest that used to be her chest, and broke down sobbing like she had never done even as a child. The whole ocean poured from her eyes, her whole body turned to water and evaporated, and yet there she still was, her body clinging to a body that was no longer hers. Qurgh'Loq: I feared you were dead. Yinn gazed into his eyes. Everything she had been holding back all day, he had been too. Yinn: So did I. That moment that we — that we weren't us. I was terrified the worst had happened. Qurgh'Loq: I suppose us separating safely is not the worst outcome. Yinn knew, logically, that was true. Would she have spent her whole life sharing a mind? Leaving Qurgh'Loq on his own with half his mind and body gone when she died? It was better this way for so many reasons, but it didn't feel that way. Yinn: I know, but it doesn't feel right to not be... you. Us. Qurgh'Loq stared into her eyes for an eternity. Qurgh'Loq: I... I do not know how to feel. It wasn't easy for him to talk about how he felt. But she understood him. She was him. Or at least, she had been. She slipped her hand into his, and pressed her forehead against his. Yinn: Even if we're not together, you will always be part of me. Qurgh'Loq squeezed her hand tightly. Her fingernails dug into her palm enough to draw blood. She knew her acidic blood was stinging his fingertips, and she understood now why pain was satisfying to Klingons. When a moment was important, you wanted to feel it, in the moment and long afterwards. They had pictured this moment many times, when they were still of one mind, and had no doubts that if they had to live separate lives, they would live them together. Qurgh'Loq: JIH dok. My blood. Yinn: Maj dok. Our blood. Qurgh'Loq: Tlinghan jIH. Yinn: Tlinghan jIH. I am Klingon. There were more elaborate vows, but at heart those were the only words that mattered. Our blood. The two of us are one. They would have a formal wedding someday, once they met a few other people, enough for a proper family. She would share her bed with who knows how many others, and would encourage him to put his Klingon stuffiness aside and do the same. But she and Loq shared a bond few others could understand. She would care about other people, love other people, but Loq was part of her in a way no one else could ever be. After sharing one mind, consummating their vows in any physical way seemed insufficient. No matter how close they got, it would never be quite close enough. But for tonight, it would have to be. Loq tugged the chain at the back of her neck, and it was enough to make her dress dissolve into a cascade of shells skittering across the floor of their quarters. She pressed her forehead against his and slid her hands under his uniform, feeling the ridge of his spines, so familiar, and yet so strange to no longer be a part of her. Tomorrow the work would start again. Counseling. Physical therapy. Regaining her sense of self. Regaining her comfort in her own body. Trying to get Loq to set aside his stoicism and do the same. Destroying that futuristic transporter, much as she hated to let it go. But for tonight, she didn't want to think about any of it. Not the future, not the past, just the two of them, a universe to themselves. Yinn and Qurgh'Loq. Maj dok. ----- Lt. Jr. Grade Yinn Science Officer USS Octavia E. Butler O240011Y12