Alora DeVeau

((Gator Deck - Deck 3 - USS ‘Oumuamua)) This past mission had affected Jack in ways he had not expected and he did not like it. The loss of the USS Caboto and his parents reported M.I.A. had stung him hard. He had let his emotions get the better of him on the bridge during the mission and as a result owed some apologies to Vomek and especially Promontory who he had snapped at during a more tense moment. Something a senior officer should never do to a junior officer and Jack deeply regretted that moment and lapse in his judgment. Jack needed to better himself, to strengthen his core mentally and to become better at handling crises on the bridge. He needed to expand his training and needed to become a better example and leader. So far, since he joined the USS Thor and now the ‘Oumuamua, the man that he needed to turn to for this help was the one man he knew had been through what Jack was going through and could lead him to being a successful officer. As such he was headed to Deck 3, the ‘Gator Deck’. This deck housed the ship's complement of Starfleet Marines and according to the ship's computer was where Lieutenant Colonel Greaves was currently at. The turbolift doors hissed open and Jack stepped out into the corridor. The last time he had been on this deck it had been bustling with activity but today the main corridor was nearly empty and Jack only saw one Marine walking his way. Kessler: Excuse me, can you point me to Colonel Greaves? Marine: (pointing down the corridor) He’s in the Armory. Kessler: (nodding) Thank you. He started down the hallway and came to the entrance to the Marine Armory. The doors hissed open and he stepped inside where there were a number of Marines along with Greaves apparently doing some type of weapons audit. The room was impressive and defensive weapons the Marines boasted were equally as impressive. Jack smiled at the thought of all these ‘cool toys’ and then realized that virtually all work in the room had come to a halt and all eyes were on him. That was just a little unnerving. Kessler: Colonel Greaves (trying to be more official) Do you have a moment sir? Wes had been holding a type III rifle upside down with his finger tracing out the serial number when the doors had opened to reveal Lieutenant JG Kessler. Of the two lance corporals with him, one held another rifle in a similar fashion while the other held a padd. It was their monthly serialized inventory, an especially important function for the armory to make sure none of their weapons had suddenly disappeared or were unexpectedly damaged. While in only required a Staff Sergeant or above to conduct the inventory, Wes liked to do it himself. It was one of the few links he still had to working shoulder to shoulder with some of the Marine Detachment. With the tactical officer standing unexpectedly in the doorway, the three Marines continued to watch the man, until he spoke. There was something in his voice, with a look on Jack’s face that said this was important. With a smooth motion Wes rotated the rifle back to it’s approriate angle and slid it back into the wall rack it came from. Greaves: Sure, (looking to the junior Marines) Go ahead and take a break. I’ll come grab you when we’re ready. The pair of junior enlisted both immediately nodded, the hint of a smirk on their faces. One which Wes chalked up to being thankful for getting out of work. With the two stepping out into the corridor Jack visibly waited until the doors to the armory whooshed closed and the two of them were alone with the weapons. Kessler: Colonel, I need your help. The Lieutenant Colonel raised an eyebrow, not sure how to take the statement, but sure that whatever Jack meant had more to do with something personal than anything in Tactical. He strode just past Jack and hit the door lock to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. That done, he leaned against one of the closed wall racks and crossed his arms, studying the man’s face. Greaves: Of course. What can I do for you? Kessler: To be honest sir, I have a couple of requests. The first, is I would like to know if you would sponsor me to enter the Command Training Program? Jack knew Greaves had enough trust in him to make him his Acting Chief Tactical officer so hopefully the Colonel had seen or found value in Jack’s abilities. Greaves: Huh. Color me surprised. I figured it’d take you a while longer before you asked about that. Wes grinned now, though it didn’t seem like Jack was reciprocating the warm feeling. He was still deadly serious, and Wes’s grin slowly faded. His arms uncrossed and landed on his hips as his body pushed off from the wall locker so he was no longer leaning. Greaves: I think you’ve got the potential to be a solid command officer, but why so sudden… and serious? Kessler: The Caboto (beat), the UDP, the Gamma Quadrant. (double beat) I need to be more than I am. Wes thought it might be something like that, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret it. Greaves: You know Jack, the CTP isn’t a joke. It’s damn hard work. Lot’s of studying and a lot of exams. Even the written ones are hard, and that’s the easiest part of the program. The practicals are even harder. When it comes to command there are no right answers. Only wrong ones. Poor marks go on your permanent record. Enough failures and you can eventually be barred from the program forever. Wes watched Jack’s face as he spoke, looking for any sign of reluctance or hesitation. Any break in his grim seriousness. Kessler: You, the Commodore, (beat) Starfleet are going to need strong command officers in this quadrant. I want to be one of those officers and I have no doubt I can do it. You won’t talk me out of it. Jack knew what the Colonel was saying was the truth. The CTP was not a joke or something to be taken lightly but the decision to join Starfleet and to get into the Academy and then graduate was equally challenging. The CTP was to Jack just the next step in the evolution of his career and this event with the UDP and the Zet had just set his mind to it all the more relentlessly. Greaves: I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I’m just making sure you know what you’re asking for. It’s not something to dive into rashly. It's not an emotional decision. Kessler: Isn’t the request to better yourself always emotional versus institutional? The Marine sighed heavily, his hands releasing from his hips. For a moment he didn’t acknowledge Jack’s comment and instead looked about the room for something. When his eyes finally fell on the padd the junior Marine had been holding, Wes moved past Jack and picked it up. The inventory was still displayed, well over 100 serial numbers in a long list with a few dozen highlighted already as accounted for. With a flick of his wrist Wes tossed the padd to Jack and didn’t wait to see if he caught it. Instead he took several steps back to the open wall locker and withdrew a phaser rifle. With another smooth motion he spun the weapon end over end until it was upside down where he could see the serial number. The PADD sailed at Jack and thankfully with as much luck in the catch, the PADD did not hit the floor. Jack spun the PADD until it was oriented so he could see what he was looking at but by the time the Colonel was rattling off a serial number. Greaves: Beta-Mike-Kilo-Three-Three-Eight-Niner-Four-Seven-Zero. There was a moment of silence and Wes’s eyes moved away from the serial number to see Jack’s reaction. Jack traced his finger down the inventory list trying to orient himself to the data layout and find the serial number. As he found it he read the number aloud back to the Colonel. Kessler: Beta-Mike-Kilo-Three-Three-Eight-Niner-Four-Seven-Zero, confirmed. Content, Wes spun the weapon back and slotted it into the wall locker, withdrawing the next one and repeating the movements. Jack tapped the confirmed button indicating the weapon had been visually accounted for and as he did Greaves rattled off another number. Greaves: Beta-Mike-Kilo-Three-Five-Eight-Six-One-Seven-Two. (Pause) What’s this really about Jack? Why do you want this so badly, and right now? Kessler: (locating the weapon on the data line) Beta-Mike-Kilo-Three-Five-Eight-Six-One-Seven-Two, confirmed. The two prong question was expected and Jack turned the PADD on it’s side and stepped closer to Greaves. Kessler: I’ve always known I would want to command (beat). I thought I had prepared myself to start that process but this last mission showed me how unprepared I am. Jack stepped around the room for a moment looking away from Greaves to the other weapons lockers and then turned back to the Colonel. Kessler: The loss of the Caboto and her crew affected me in a way that it affected how I reacted with two junior officers on the bridge. I snapped at Ensign Promontory, I almost snapped at V’Airu and I showed them that I was not in control. The Marine nodded, withdrawing another weapon after a moment of silence. Greaves: As for as screw ups go, that’s pretty minor. Kessler: I understand that but I was the second senior officer on the bridge and I failed to give the proper presentation for those junior officers. The CTP can give me that training to be the command influence that you and the Commodore need me to really be (beat) to be the officer I want to be. Jack paused and watched the Colonel. He hoped Greaves could understand where he was coming from and if he did not want to sponsor him, he at least hoped the Colonel would give him the guidance that he needed to better himself in front of the junior officers in a crisis moment. The older man sighed once again and slid the phaser rifle back into the rack, turning to face Jack once again. Greaves: I don’t know if you knew this or not, but I was enlisted before I became an officer, still a Marine though. Kessler: (shaking his head slightly) I was not aware of that. Greaves: My first real time leading folks during an actual mission was back then. I was younger than you are now, just a new Corporal. We were raiding a pirate hideout and I was a team leader. The details aren’t really important. What’s important was a decision I had to make. As a leader. As a Marine. Wes crossed his arms again and leaned against the wall locker door, studying Jack’s face. The memory of the raid wasn’t a pleasant one. Even a year or two ago he probably wouldn’t have been comfortable talking about it at all. Moving on from it was a part of his own command training, although not formally or even as he understood it at the time. Greaves: A couple of pirates surprised my team. Pinned us down and tossed a photon grenade into the middle of our group. We’ve all seen the holovids where the hero jumps on the grenade, right? That’s not just in the vids. Back at The Basic School, walls are lined with pictures of the heroes who did just that. Jack’s breathing unknowingly started to slow as he thought about the implications of giving your life to protect those of your teams. Kessler: (softly) You didn’t jump on it? Greaves: Nope. Arguably should have. I was in charge. They were my troops I was leading. I was responsible for their lives. It was the right thing to do… but I didn’t. I chose another option. I kicked the grenade down the hallway back at the bastards. Ok, split second decision. Jack could see the tactical advantage of sending the enemy's weapon hurtling back down the hallway at them. Kessler: So you used their weapon against them? Greaves: Tried to. Remember when I just said in command, there’s no right answers, just wrong ones? Kessler: (puzzled) That was a wrong decision? Jack didn’t understand how that played into the wrong decision category. Greaves had protected his men and used the enemy’s weapon against them. Shouldn’t that have been the right decision? Greaves: I’m still not sure if that was a wrong decision or not. See, this was an asteroid hideout we were on. On the surface. I could see the stars through the windows in the corridor. Turns out those windows don’t react too well to explosions. Especially from the inside. I kicked that grenade right next to the window. The visual of what that meant slammed into Jack’s head and resulting chaos that must have ensued after the explosion would have been bad, very bad. But the Colonel was here so somehow he managed to survive the ordeal. Jack paused and looked at Greaves trying to read the emotions carried in the Marine’s eyes. Kessler: You made it out but not all of your men did? Greaves: Pretty much. One of my Marines got sucked out during the decompression. Jack thought about the decision and the results. In his mind the decision was a two-edged sword. One way someone died instantly, the second option had a variable to it that was unseen. Did that make it a wrong decision? Jack personally did not think so but he could see how the families of the fallen might and thus the mental question Greaves carried about the choice he made. Kessler: You are here, you brought the rest of your men home and how many Marines have come home because you are here? Because you made a decision in a split second that would have resulted in death one way or another? I don’t see that as a wrong decision, just a bad kick. Jack smiled lightly trying to relieve the tension of the thought of death that hung in the room. Greaves: True, and I’ve come to terms with that. My point is it took me a long time to move past that decision. What I realized through that process is we do the best with what we have at the time. When a crisis confronts us, we react with who we are, not who we want to be. As long as we aren’t negligent or immoral, we learn from our wrong decisions and move on. Jack watched Greaves as he spoke. Although younger, Greaves spoke much like Jack’s father with regards to command, actions and consequences. There were subtle differences of course but the experience of time and command gave Greaves the same strong foundation that Jack saw his father stand on and give advice from. Kessler: Then I need to better who I am at handling my responses when someone touches a nerve. I need to better my understanding of how to handle those instances so I do not have that emotional mistake again. Greaves: You say that on this mission you made emotional mistakes. I say you reacted well in line with what I’d expect of someone with your grade and level of experience. Arguably better in fact given how personal the stakes were. Listening to Greaves Jack did not feel the Marine would say something like this just to help lift his spirits. Greaves struck Jack as a no hold back Marine who offered praise or compliment only when it was earned so having Greaves voice this made Jack feel better about his performance and a little less like he had made the wrong moves on the bridge. Kessler: Thank you Colonel. That means a great deal coming from you. Greaves: Take it from someone who spent too long focused on the past. If you’re looking to enter the CTP because you’re focused on past mistakes, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. Command of his own ship had been a dream of Jack’s since he first sat foot on a Starship. He remembered the first ship his father was assigned to; well not the class of ship or what it looked like from the outside. From the inside it had a draw to it that for a kid was a magical feeling. The ship had a hum, a very soft hum in the walls. Windows as tall as young Jack was allowed his larger than life imagination to stare out into the universe where his own childhood missions were carried out. Jack was not focused on past mistakes as much as he was focused on not making the same ones again. He could better himself without the CTP but his road to the command chair had been laid out in front of him years before. Kessler: My father told me once he wanted me to be whatever I wanted to be. I told him that I wanted to command my own ship. (beat) I was little at the time and he smiled and said, well, you have a long time to make up your mind. (double beat) I’ve never wanted to be anything other than a starship Captain and now seeing what we face here in the Gamma Quadrant, I know this is the right choice. One day you and I, we won’t be defending Starfleet side-by-side on the same bridge. We will be standing on our own ship's bridge defending the Federation's ideals and policies. My decision just became more clear on this mission. Wes nodded along as Jack spoke. He could see the resolution in the man’s eyes. There was passion and history behind the story. Greaves: Okay, that’s a start then. Good. Kessler: So then let me prove my determination and drive to you. (beat) The ‘Oumuamua is currently without a Security Chief. Give me the Asst. Chief of Security role on top of my Asst. Chief of Tactical responsibilities. I will head up both departments until we get a Chief of Security. Until then, that will help me in leadership of multiple departments. The Marine broke into a wide grin at the audacious request. It was a bold move and he respected the play, in more ways than one. Still, that wasn’t his decision to make. It was the Commodore’s. Greaves: (Lightheartedly) Whoa, slow it down. I’ll bring it up to the commodore at the next personnel meeting, but it’s not something you need to prove. You're already leading Tactical. Let’s start with the first module of the CTP instead and we can touch base again after you complete that. Maybe you’ll decide it's still too early for you, or maybe you won’t. As long as you finish the module there’s no harm in it. Kessler: (Allowing a slight smile to crease his lips) Fair enough. I can do that. He nodded, the Marine’s voice growing more serious for a moment. Greaves: Expect me to be a tough tutor. Don’t gaff off your studies. You’ll need it. Jack allowed his slight smile to grow into a larger grin and nodded to the Colonel. Kessler: I wouldn’t have it any other way sir. Jack was still not happy with the way he had performed on the bridge in front of the junior officers but that was in the past and he was looking forward, looking to what he really wanted and what would benefit him the most. His goal was clearer now than it had been and with Greaves at the helm of his training he knew that he would succeed, there was no question in his mind. Kessler: On a personal note. I will be switching quarters to a set of family quarters on Deck 4 to help accommodate Krystal until my parents can be found. I do not see any reason to send her back to Earth where she has no family. I want you to be assured though that having her aboard will not interfere with my duties or training. Wes turned his back once again to the young officer and drew a rifle from the rack once again and resumed the inventory as he listened. As Jack’s comment turned toward reassurance rather than simply a statement, the Colonel looked over his shoulder with a slightly amused look. Greaves: We’ll see about that. I’m sure you’ll do your best though. How’re you handling the revelation? It’s not everyday you find out you have a teenage sibling. Jack took a slightly deeper breath than he had been. This entire ordeal had been so unexpected that he had not really given himself time to process all of it. He had immediately gone into being in ‘family mode’ and everything had been moving since then pretty fast. Kessler: It’s a little weird finding out your parents adopted a child without telling you, but at the same time; knowing what I do now. It does not surprise me. (beat) My mother loves big surprises. He nodded once again. Wes had dedicated his life to the Marine Corps. Sure there had been flings along the way, but he’d never even really considered settling down. Children had been the furthest thing from his mind. He didn’t know how he’d feel if suddenly he were faced with the prospects of taking care of a teenager. Phaser rifle still in hand Wes turned back to face Jack again. Greaves: I’d like to say I can imagine… but I don’t know if I can. Adjusting is probably tough for her too. Kessler: (smiling with a slight chuckle) You’ll have to meet her. She’s a bright kid. This time Wes openly chuckled at the comment. His mind went back to the station and the slave market that Krystal had been sprung from. Then he thought to the arboretum when he’d questioned the kids for more information on the station’s security in preparation for the raid. He was well aware of what Krystal was capable of. Greaves: She’s a tough kid too. Bright like you said, but resourceful and tough. I busted her out of that slave market… or rather it’d be more accurate to say I helped V’Len do it. Kessler: (grinning broadly) I’m sure he gave you a choice. Jack knew full well that if V’Len decided to do something his mind was set and there was probably very little the Colonel could have done to stop him. Wes motioned toward the rifles with his chin, the conversation now winding down to small talk. Greaves: You’re welcome to stay and help me finish the inventory, but I’d wager a bet you’ve got more interesting things to do on your shore leave. Let’s meet tomorrow morning at 0900 and I’ll get you set up with studies for the first block of the CTP. Kessler: (handing the PADD back to Greaves) I actually have a personal project in the mission pod I need to keep playing with. Thank you for your time and help Colonel. (beat, turning towards the door) I’ll send you Marines back in. Jack nodded to the Colonel and then exited the room. The doors hissing closed behind him. He paused and took a deep breath. The first step in his journey was made and now he needed to commit to the tasks at hand. ========================= Lieutenant Colonel Wes Greaves Executive Officer Marine Detachment Commander USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 E239702WG0 & Lieutenant jg Jack Kessler Asst. Chief Tactical Officer USS Oumuamua T239901JK1 =========================

Welcome! It's great to have you!

HAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Oh, I have a bridge for sale...

Welcome! Happy to have y'all here!

I really really really want to see V'Airu on her worst behaviour!

@Alex Brodie, I'm not so sure about that. 😄

Same. Plus teen son!

Rox is very convincing.

SOOPER SEKRIT. I wanna know!

This doesn't bode well....

Stardate 240001.01 It’s just past the winter solstice on Earth and the start of the traditional new years there (old calendar--oh, and my birthday in that time system!). We stopped using the old earth calendars in our colony over 100 years ago, but still some traditions remain. In my family at the end of a year we gather together and record stories. We don’t yet have the infrastructure to regularly communicate home from out here in the Gamma Quadrant, so I’m going to tell my annual story in my personal log and send a copy to the fam. It was my final semester at the academy, and most of my classes were practicals. We had a number of opportunities for “off campus” activities, including a notable jaunt through Freecloud. I had a squad of teammates from class that I didn’t know particularly well, but after our final practicum, I was encouraged to go out with them to “site-see.” I was less interested, but relented. I didn’t want to be a poor sport, but, to me, unregulated ports have a lot of similarities, no matter where you are in the galaxy: high density, a thriving black market, wealth inequality, folks trying to take advantage of visitors, and food for which the main selling point is that you’ve never heard of it (it’s rarely good and often makes me queesy). For this foray into “the sites,” there were three others besides myself: Adrianne Potsak, a full human from earth, T’Span, a half-human, half-vulcan who we think had a wicked deadpan humor (we were never 100% sure, as she never ‘broke character,’) and Jejull, a Tamberite. We were all 4th year intelligence cadets, except for Jejull, he was on the diplomatic track, but had gotten into our senior seminar somehow. (I don’t know, maybe his budding diplomatic skills?) The site-seeing was Adrianne’s idea and she was the most excited for it, so we let her pick the first stop from a list she had found from the tourism bureau. <Promontory: Computer, add this list of top things to see in Freedcloud to this entry.> <Avander pulled up a file on his PADD and pressed a button before continuing> Top things to See/Do in Stardust City: 1) Try a ‘Panterra Accord’ (Romulan Ale, Earth Whiskey, and Bloodwine) 2) View the propagation of the Hobus supernova 3) Echer gravity rooms 4) Go to the top of Five Freedoms tower 5) Dance at Megamosh 6) Jerrica and the Starlights Concert 7) Barter with a Camgemerian trader 😎 Grow a clone 9) Eat a berricone 10) Add a message to the Great Library Wall Andrianne chose eating a berricone. It was absolutely awful. There’s a reason why even transporting the fruit or uploading its replicator pattern is banned aboard Federation vessels. It started with the smell, unpleasant, like a fermented orange covered with fuzzy mold. The texture itself wasn’t bad, sort of a bristly pinecone covering that you had to pick off and that’s when the smell got really bad! We had to pinch our noses just to get the slimy soft innards to our mouths. The taste was putrid. I couldn’t take more than one bite. Andrianne insisted that we finish a whole one as a group, but if it wasn’t for Jejull’s iron stomach, I don’t know that we could have. As it were, most of us were belching the rest of the evening (which, I guess, is part of the appeal.) On account of his heroic accomplishments in weird fruit eating, Jujull got to pick next. He chose “bartering with a Camgemerian trader.” If you’ve never met a Camgemerian, they are a peculiar race. While some in the Federation compare them to the Ferengi, that’s not really a fair connection. Although both are heavy mercantile groups, the Comgemerian simply don’t have the profit motive that Ferengi exemplify. Hailing from deep within the Beta Quadrant, their traders have spread out in a massive sector-spanning network. However, while they have established long trade routes, they have no colonies to speak of and are not empire-builders. Rather, a good trade is itself their highest purpose in life. While they aren’t trying o accumulate wealth, they do have a strict code of “only making good trades.” However, what, exactly, that means is a bit opaque for outsiders. Nevertheless, it’s a point of Comgemerian pride that they will only make a trade that they feel is ‘right’ for the other party. More could probably be said about the species, but we were interested in the experience more than an education. The problem, of course, was we hadn’t set out that evening bringing anything worthwhile to trade. We had three berricones (we ordered one for each of us before realizing that one was more than enough!) but those were not likely to be of interest to a Comgemerian on Freecloud. We were still discussing the issue of what to trade when we arrived at the consortium of traders. “What about our boots?” Adrianne asked. They were regulation, nice boots, and we could probably get another pair, but given state of the ground, I didn’t love the idea of loosing that protection. “I will not surrender my footwear and I am unable to carry more than two of you, if you elect to do so.” There was T’Span, with her classic deadpan humor. “No one is surrendering their shoes,” said Jujull. “What else to we have?” We fumbled through our bags. A few communicators, a tricorder, a couple of PADDs, none of which seemed prime trade material. Adrianne took of her scarf and proposed we use it—apparently her sister had knitted it by hand, so it was at least one-of-a-kind. “I can have her make me another,” Adrianne replied when we were worried about her losing a sentimental item. With that decided, we entered the Consortium. It was divided into a series of private booths with a Comgemerian trader in each. We would only be allowed this one shot, no return customers. A greeter at the entrance scanned us and indicated an open booth. Inside the Comgemerian stood silently, only their eyes moved as they took us in. After a moment of contemplation, their robe barely rustled as their hands moved, gesturing to one of two open tureens in between us. “Is this for our trade?” We confirmed, as if it wasn’t obvious. Adrianne moved to place her scarf in the appointed place, but the figure shook its head. “No? not this? Than what?” The Comgemerian trader slowly raised their finger and pointed to my hand. There was nothing in it, but I was wearing a ring. “This?” The trader nodded. I looked at my ring. It was just a plain metal band with some runic figures carved into it. It was a gift from my grandfather and held sentimental value. I didn’t know if it would be worth anything to anyone else, but I was reluctant to part with it. However, I also knew my grandfather always said that sharing stories and memories were more important than physical gifts. And maybe this would result in a story I could share with him. I took the ring off and placed it in the first tureen. Almost immediately, with a smooth economy of movement that was hard to detect, the trader had placed a basket in the other tureen. “What is it?” Jujull asked. But the figure remained silent, collected my ring, and indicated the exit to the booth. With a shrug, Jujull took the basket and headed out. “Oh, this is heavy. Thank you for allowing us to be part of this trading opportunity!” It may have been my imagination, but I think the trader smiled slightly as they again indicated the exit. “So what’s in it?” Adrianne asked, as soon as we were back on the street. We gathered in a circle as Jujull carefully lifted the lid on the basket. Much of it was padding, a blanket swaddling the object in the center. “Is this an egg?” “I think it’s a rock.” T’Span, however, was more certain. “It is a T’t’mel.” “OK, great. What’s a Tatamelt?” “T’t’mel. It is a sentient rock.” I could not tell if she was serious. Nobody could. Jujull had to look it up on his PADD, and sure enough, there was a picture of a T’t’mel, a sentient rock, that looked quite similar to the object in our basket. “I have so many questions…” Adrianne began. “Yeah, like what do we do now!” I interjected. Jujull: “No returns. It would offend the Comgemian’s code of ethics—it would be the equivalent of a Federation member violating the Prime Directive.” Adrianne Potsak: “Well we can’t take it back to the academy…” T’Span: Why not? They are said to be quite intelligent. Jujull nodded as he continued to read the entry. Promontory: Because we’re not human traffickers… Er.. T’t’mel traffickers. We can’t bring a sentient being back without it’s permission! Jujull: Well, can we ask it? There’s not much in this article about how they communicate. T’Span: Touch telepathy. One of you must create a bond with the being and you will be able to ascertain it’s emotional state. Potsak: Well YOU do it, you’re half-Vulcan. T’Span: And that is precisely why I cannot. My own telepathic abilities are incompatible with this species. It would be the equivalent of connecting a 220 erg power source to a 55 erg coupling. None of us were engineers (or biologists), but it sounded like a valid point. After a little more discussion, they group decided I should be the one to try to bond with it, because we got it with my ring. I felt silly, there in a side street on FreeCloud, clutching a 30-cm long egg-shaped rock, tying to mind-meld with it. Particularly as nothing seemed to be happening. Potsak: Look, is it changing color? T’Span: Indeed. It is expressing its mood. It appears to be content with us. I was getting suspicious of T’Span’s proclamations, but the others seemed convinced. Still holding the T’t’mel, I asked “What now?” T’Span: You must ask it questions and we will ascertain it’s responses by its color changes. Now, peer-pressure is a heck of a drug. Which is how I stood for ten minutes in the street asking a rock questions. “Do you want to go to Starfleet Academy?” “It’s getting darker!” “That would be a negative response.” “Ask it another question!” “Do you have a name?” “Whoa, that’s a lot of colors!” “Obviously its name is too complicated for the human or Tamberite tongue.” “Are you sure it’s not just reflecting lights from the buildings around us?” “Don’t say that, you’ll hurt it’s feelings!” I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure the rock couldn’t see that. “OK buddy, do you want to get off FreeCloud?” “Oh, bright colors!” “That’s a ‘yes’.” “Where do you want to go?” “Well that’s a weird color.” “Be more specific.” “Do you want to go far?” “That’s a ‘no!’ Oh wait, no. Maybe that’s a ‘maybe!’” “Do you just want to get off planet?” “There you’ve got it now!’ <The ships comms interrupted with a page: =^= Ensign Promontory, report to sickbay =^=> <The ensign skimmed through the current entry. It was already getting pretty lengthy. He would have to skip the bit about the Thorgunian boxer. And the proposition from the Veslcia. Those were better stand-alone stories anyway. He decided to sum-up and get over to sick bay.> We spent the night pursuing options, and there’s more stories to tell another time, but in the end, we were sprinting through the docks, barely catching a trustworthy independent xenobologist who had agreed to take “Rocky” on tour before she boarded her transport and then rushing back to our Starfleet Academy Instructor. And that is the story of how I earned my first (and only) demerit for being late. The rock has not contacted me since. <Ensign Promontory looked at his conclusion and smiled. It was a good memory. Hopefully his grandfather would appreciate the story as well. Avander promised himself that he’d send another along soon, but for now, duty called.> --- Ensign Avander Promontory Intelligence Officer USS Oumuamua O239910AP4

Because Marines can never have any fun.

Right smack dab in the middle of the princess bride comment came this from green. It was a typo, but I suspect T'Seva was also a bad influence.

I love how T'Seva slipped a Princess Bride reference in there!

Wyn Foster's "How To Get Ready To Hang Out"

You're killing me, Smalls!

((Sera's Quarters, StarBase 118)) Sherlock: Ok. ::taking a deep breath and folding her hands in her lap:: I'm ready. As Sera shifted positions towards her, Shevon sat still, only her head and eyes tracking the Vulcan. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks and her breathing became slightly hurried. She was nervous. She still didn't understand how this all worked. How suddenly, she'd just know what she needed to know. Nonetheless, she tried her best not to pull away. Sera: This will be a superficial meld. I shall reiterate that I have no intentions of accessing any of your thoughts or memories, Ms. Sherlock. Shevon did her best to try and relax. To drive out all thoughts and keep her mind blank. She didn't have many secrets really. But she drifted to them and when they appeared, she did her best to "hide them behind the curtain." Sera's hand extended towards Shevon's face and when contact was made, Shevon could feel the warmth of her fingertips. Sera: ::intoning the ritual words:: T'nash-veh kashek tor ish-veh kashek. t'nash-veh nahp tor nahp... A sudden rush. Shevon couldn't think of how to describe it. At once, it wasn't something visible, but yet she felt like she could see it happening. And as it did, it seemed the curtains weren't holding. Sera: ::in a soft, yet slightly-strained voice:: Ms. Sherlock…please control your thoughts… Sherlock: ::nervously:: I'm trying. There's so much. Too much. It seemed the more she attempted to drown out the bad memories, the more they were coming forward. She wondered what she was doing wrong. Nervousness was beginning to turn into fear. Fear of failure. A tightness came into her chest like she was holding her breath. She heard Sera's next words, but not aloud. It was as if Sera were walking around in her thoughts, speaking to her from within like one's own mind. Sera: ::emphatically:: ~Ms. Sherlock, you must desist—clear your mind~ Sherlock: I can't... It was with those words a memory suddenly burst forth. But it seemed more than a memory. It was as if she were there again. Back on the Delight. A child. Her mother had passed, unexpectedly, when she was just seven years of age. She was left to the "world of men." There was one who had taken her in, the man her mother called Captain. In time, she would too. In time, she'd even call him father. But he wasn't there. In this memory, she was on her own. She remembered how big the Delight had seemed to her as a child. It was a maze of crawl spaces, tubing, wiring...a mess of a ship. In her memory, it seemed even bigger. The man she would call father had told her to stay in his quarters, but she was afraid to be alone. She would venture out, sometimes even getting lost. And this time was no different. A man was there, but not her father to be. She'd seen him before. Her mother never trusted him. And now he was there, cornering her. His voice was deep and he spoke kindly. The things he said were nice, but Shevon, by instinct, knew not to trust him. With her back against the wall, she shook her head no again and again. She wanted to scream, but who would hear her. And it seemed just as the man was about to grab her, there appeared the Captain. He lifted the man with one arm around his midsection, slamming him into the nearest bulkhead. The Captain had always been a nice man and Shevon did not understand what she was seeing. He was suddenly scary. When they dropped to the floor he grabbed the man by his head repeatedly slammed it into the bulkhead. Shevon was frozen in fear. All in the briefest of moments she'd been subjected to the scariest things she'd ever seen. Shevon of now seemed to stand, frozen just as the child she was in the memory was, watching. She wanted to reach out, to help, but she couldn't, something was stopping her. Sera: ~STOP~ Sherlock: She needs me. Sera: ~This is a memory. The past. Yet it is…a living thing for you.~ Sera was correct. It still lived with Shevon. In her life since that moment, she'd never had to hurt someone and she hoped she never would have to. Both the idea of someone trying to hurt her and someone even hurting someone to protect her were terrifying. The violence was something she hated. Something she feared. Something she wasn't capable of. Sherlock: He was evil. But ::beat:: I don't want anyone hurt. Sera: ~I am sorry. It is a fear no child…no one should experience. ~ Sherlock: I don't want to be hurt. Sera: ~But you were protected, and yet you focus solely on the traumatic event just preceding a heralding that protection?~ Sherlock: response Sera: ~You must shift your perspective, Shevon. If you can learn that lesson, you can master anything.~ Perspective...Shevon had always looked at that moment in time from the point of view of herself that was seven. Maybe this was why she was afraid to accept help from others, like her sister. Why she didn't want to rely on anyone. Because helping her meant someone was going to be hurt. But maybe, sometimes that was just the way things had to be. Sherlock: How? How do I change the way I see things? Sera: ~?~ Shevon took in Sera's words. She went back to the memory. She walked past the point the where the memory normally ended for her. She could see the man laying on the deck of the Delight. He was dead. The Captain was on his knees next to the man and he was breathing heavily. The look on his face was anger. More fear creeped inside the child and Shevon could feel it. She could feel the child's thoughts, she was afraid he was mad at her. She watched as he stood up, towering over the child, his shoulder heaved as he breathed. He stepped towards the child slowly and reached down for her with both hands on either side of her body and under her arms, scooping her off the ground as if she were a feather. Shevon stepped closer to him and her child self. She never before remembered this part. He pulled the child in close and whispered, she could hear his words echoing in the memory. I swore I would take care of you. I swore I would protect you. This will never happen again. I promise you. I promise. The last words echoed. A sense of calm came over her. Brief flashes of future memories, times when she may have noticed nothing at the time but it was clear now he had watched over her, protected her, just as he had promised. All those moments, up until the end, he had kept his word. And with the sudden realization and calm, her mind went blank and the memories seemed to slip away in the distance and in her mind, she stood in the nothingness. Sera: ~?~ Sherlock: I can see now. She wasn't sure what she was saying. If it made sense to Sera. It just made sense to her in the moment. She could see that her mind was clear. She could see how she perceived things wrong in the past. Everything was clear now. Sera: ~?~ tag/TBC Petty Officer 3rd Class Shevon Sherlock Engineering Technician StarBase 118 R239712AS0

But...Greaves has the flamingo!

From the narration of Promontory: Understatement of the millenium.

It's all a standard, normal, ordinary day for @Wes Greaves

I found this amusing.

*whistles*

Yes, otherwise the FO will have her head! 😉

((Rakantha Province, Bajor)) Arys didn’t know if the place Sileah had selected held any religious significance, but so far she had made a conscious effort not to question it. There was much that remained unsaid between mother and daughter, many questions that still demanded answers, and details that simply did not add up, but Lukin had reminded Arys that this was neither the time, nor the place for it. Sileah: I am glad you came. Arys gave a nod, letting her gaze drift over the fields that stretched out in front of them, sprinkled with patches of yellow and red flowers. And above the seedy heads of grain, the sky had cleared up. ‌Trovek: What is this place? Why here? Her attention shifted to the older woman. The medical evaluation matched what Sileah had told her - that Aaron had taken over their sect, and that he had held her captive for months. She looked better than she had when Arys had found her, but was still only a shadow of her former self. Sileah: My family used to live here. Your grandparents. And your aunts and uncles. There was pain in the older woman’s voice, and Arys lowered her gaze. She knew that her mother’s family had been killed in the early years of the Occupation, and now she understood why Sileah had chosen this place. ‌Trovek: Then he will be with family. Sileah nodded and carefully moved closer to Arys, giving her every opportunity to draw back. Her hand touched Arys’ shoulder, and the younger woman squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let tears escape. Trovek: I just wish he would have given us a chance. But he hadn’t even been willing to allow them to live. Had Lukin, Tito and Ivin not intervened, Aaron would have disposed of Geleth. And if Sileah told the truth, he had been behind Taril Zantett’s death and behind Arys’ grandfather’s denial of it. Sileah: What I taught him didn’t help. The acknowledgment of her role in all of this surprised Arys. Sileah’s hatred towards anything Cardassian had certainly contributed to Aaron’s actions, but they had still been his actions. Trovek: It did not. She turned back to the vast stretch of fields beyond, trying to picture a house between the green and gold. If she closed her eyes, she could see fruit trees growing along one side of the house, Chickens wandering the yard and pecking at the dirt, and the sound of children playing in the distance. A very Terran fantasy, but one Arys indulged regardless. Trovek: I hated everything Bajoran. ::she admitted eventually:: Sileah: I know. You were always a rebellious child. ‌Arys nodded. Disliking everything associated with the Bajoran culture of faith had been her way of acting out, and she remembered how much she had enjoyed getting a rise out of her mother when she refused to celebrate important holidays. But she also remembered how exhausting it had been to maintain this hatred, and how it had been the reason she hadn’t been willing to visit the temple with Geleth. Trovek: Geleth is fascinated by Bajoran customs. ::she paused, then added:: She will need someone to explain them to her. Sileah’s face lit up. Arys had told her that Lukin refused to let her see Geleth, at least for now.‌ Sileah: I would… like to meet her. I always wondered about Taril. ‌Arys tilted her head and faced her mother. Trovek: The report said you left him to die of exposure. The older woman sighed and shook her head. She contemplated her answer before she spoke. ‌Sileah: I left him at the edge of a settlement. I hoped they would take him in. I was only fifteen and… ::she shook her head:: … I was only fifteen. I didn’t know what else to do. ‌ Before Arys could stop herself, she reached out and took her mothers hand. ‌ Trovek: You did the right thing. He was… incredibly loved. He grew up in a good home, survived the war, married, and spent almost six years with his beautiful daughter. Sileah nodded sadly and squeezed Arys’ hand. Sileah: I wish he would have had more time with her. ‌Trovek: Me too. We just… have to make sure she knows how loved she is. I am sure Lukin will allow you to see her. Eventually. ‌Sileah: Thank you, Arys. ::she smiled:: I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me. Arys nodded. She had tried not to think about that, but every now and then the thought crept up regardless. Had anyone known, or cared, that her mother was locked up in that room? Had Aaron any intention to free her? Or would they simply have left her to rot. ‌Trovek: Don’t thank me, really. I went to the temple and I just had that… thought. Of the door. That’s why I came. Sileah: The temple? You went to a temple? Arys nodded. She understood well why her mother was surprised. Trovek: Unity Temple. ::she paused, then added:: Jeni convinced me to go. The older woman blinked and tilted her head, much in the fashion Arys did when something puzzled her. Sileah: Jeni? Trovek: Yes, one of Aaron’s wives. I remembered her from when we were younger. She lived two houses down the road from us, we used to talk every now and then. Her mother still looked at her with an incredulous expression. Sileah: Arys, that can’t have been the same person. There was an explosion at a warehouse you kids liked to play at, do you remember? Jeni died. Arys did remember, and it was why she had been so surprised to see Jeni alive and well after all these years. She had been astonished at how the older Jeni looked exactly like Arys imagined her, and how she had said exactly what Arys needed to hear. For a moment, Arys said nothing. How could she put in words that nothing that had happened these past few days had made any sense, how she had intrusive thoughts she couldn’t explain, and how she had blindly trusted the guidance of someone who shouldn’t even be alive? Trovek: Oh. ::pause:: I guess it was someone else. ‌She left it at that, unwilling to delve deeper into who it was she had talked to. There was something in her mother’s eyes, a spark Arys didn’t know how to interpret, but Sileah nodded and fell silent. ‌ Sileah: I think it's time. ‌Arys nodded and knelt, picking up the wooden urn that held all that remained of Aaron. It wasn’t a traditional Bajoran funeral, and it was certainly not what the man had envisioned upon his passing. There were none of his wives and followers present, and not one worshipper had expressed desire to attend the funeral. There was no large gathering that celebrated his life, no expensive memorial people seek to visit in the future. His legacy had come to an end. ‌ Sileah took the urn and turned towards the fields, chanting a funeral prayer. The simple words were accompanied by a simple melody, repeating over and over. Her voice cracked and tears began to flow down the woman’s cheeks, and while Arys still felt strange about even this resemblance of Bajoran rites, her voice joined her mother’s eventually. The wind began to pick up, and as the urn was opened, Aaron’s ashes were carried across the fields, becoming one with the land. And despite all he had done, Arys hoped he had found peace. ***************** Lt. Trovek Arys Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4