Alora DeVeau

Because if you're going to go to a bar and get in a fight with Nausicaans, you might as be well fed.

Did we ever figure out what those were used for? 😄

She deserves extra kudos for writing a song in Vulcan!

This line in particular made me laugh

It's just inevitable, @Wes Greaves.

From the narration of Avander Promontory.

OOC: Arys has been working on this wonderful story arc. This latest installment highlights struggles that parents sometimes deal with. ((OOC: Not a happy sim. You have been warned. )) ((Arys' and Lukin’s temporary quarters, City Hotel, Bajor)) ((Time Index: Two hours after Geleth and Ferri went missing)) Arys hadn’t chosen motherhood, and she was well aware that she wasn’t going to make “Mother of the Year 2399”. She cherished her alone time, only watched Geleth when both Lukin and Ferri were unavailable, and there were times she perceived the little girl as an annoyance more than anything else, and as someone who took time away from her and Lukin. If she was honest with herself, there were times Arys felt… tricked. Lukin had lured her to Cardassia, knowing full well what she would find there, and having prepared the way to adopt Geleth. Everything had gone so fast that Arys barely even had time to think, much less to make an actual choice on the matter. Were she still a Counsellor and were she her own patient, she would call it manipulative. She didn’t love Geleth. She loved Lukin. And that was a difficult thing to admit, even to herself. Because, really, what was wrong with her? Why did affection come so easily to others? Arys made her way to the corner where a few travel crates stood packed and ready for departure after their last afternoon on Bajor. The biggest one belonged to Geleth, and Arys opened it carefully. Arys and Lukin preferred to travel lightly, but Geleth insisted to take along as many plushies as possible. One of them was the Hornicorn Tito had gifted her, and Arys gingerly took it out of the crate. Tears came, but Arys wasn’t sure if they were out of fear or anger. Despite her evident failings, she wanted Geleth to be safe and happy. Even if she was an awful mother. Lukin made more than up for it, but that too made Arys angry. Why did it came so naturally to him? Why wasn’t anyone helping her to figure this stuff out? Was she supposed to just have some inherent knowledge of how to be a decent parent? The doorbell chimed, but this time Arys didn’t even feel any desire to open it. She knew it wouldn’t be Ferri or Geleth, and everyone else who meant something to her was either on their way to find them, or unaware of what had happened. The chime came again, and Arys’ jaw tightened. She wanted to lash out, tell whoever was so persistent that they had picked a bad point of time to go on her nerves. She got up and opened the door with hiss. Trovek: What?! Of all the people Arys had expected, the woman in front of her wasn’t one of them, and her appearance took the wind out of Arys’ sails. She took a calming breath that did absolutely nothing, wiped her tears out of her face, and with as much composure as possible she asked: Trovek: Jeni. What are you doing here? Jeni: I thought you could use some company. The Bajoran woman didn’t seem surprised to see Arys in the state she was in, neither did she seem to judge her. Instead, her voice was steeped in compassion. Logically, that would make Arys suspicious. Did she know anything? She was part of her brother’s sect, even if they seemed to have split from Sileah. But when she inquired, her voice didn’t convey those suspicions. Trovek: ::defeated:: Why? Jeni: Just a feeling. May I come inside? Arys nodded. She had so many questions. What did Jeni know, how did she know where to find Geleth and Ferri? But as the woman stepped inside and embraced her, those questions faded into the background and all Arys felt was warmth and comfort. Tears came again, and this time they wouldn’t stop. Trovek: It was her. I know it was her. Her. Sileah. Arys’ mother. Jeni: ::softly:: You think it was her. You don’t *know*, Arys. Trovek: I do! ::she insisted:: Arys hated her mother, as much as that was possible. Sileah had been a mixture of emotionally absent, negligent, and abusive. The woman’s motherly affection had only ever belonged to Aaron, Arys’ older brother. Of course Arys knew that Aaron had been a sick child with special needs and that Sileah had suffered from depression after having Arys, but that didn’t invalidate decades of feeling unloved and not good enough. Jeni: When have you last spoken to her? Arys didn’t understand why that mattered, and she understood even less why she answered the question. Trovek: I… I think more than half a year ago. I had just transferred to Ops and I wanted to speak to my father. Arys’ father had sold their family home, quit his job as Chief Physician, and left Earth. Arys had assumed he would be traveling to Bajor to reunite with Sileah. Jeni: But he wasn’t there. Trovek: ::shaking her head:: No, he was not. And Arys didn’t know where he might have gone. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if he was still alive, and there were moments she hated herself for their last conversation having been an argument. Jeni: And you told her that you are going to find Taril. Again Arys wondered how Jeni could possibly know that. Had she been in the room, out of sight? Had her mother shared the conversation? And, most importantly, why did her mind simply dismiss these thoughts of suspicion without a single logical reason to do so. Trovek: Yes. She warned me. She said it wouldn’t end well. Jeni: But you didn’t argue. Trovek: No we didn’t. I said I would call again. Then I found out about Taril’s death and… didn’t talk to her again. Obviously. Jeni: You think she killed Taril. Trovek: Yes. She left him to die of exposure before. Someone who was capable of leaving their own child to die of exposure was certainly also capable of having them killed, and of kidnapping a child. Two children. Ferri was barely twenty years old. Jeni: That’s what the files said. Arys nodded. The files she had received upon her grandfather’s death detailed how Sileah had killed the Cardassian who had gotten her pregnant, and wasn’t seen again until months later, when she left her newborn child out in the cold. Jeni: The Cardassian files. ::Jeni reminded Arys:: Arys nodded again, and she knew what Jeni was implying. Deep down, she had thought the same. As much as she hated her mother, she knew that she had received a one-sided narrative of the events. Jeni took her hand. Jeni: Maybe you can find answers. Arys peered at the other woman, for a moment unsure what to respond. She knew exactly where this conversation was going. Trovek: Let me guess. I should pray, or go to the temple. ::she pulled her hand away:: How about no. Jeni: Because you don’t have faith. Trovek: I don’t. I don’t believe in the Prophets, at best I acknowledge that they are wormhole aliens who somehow managed to convince all of Bajor to worship them. I’m sorry to offend, but that’s just what it is. Geleth had wanted to go to the temple, which had quickly become her favourite place on Bajor. Arys hadn’t wanted to go, and instead, Ferri had agreed to take her there. Had Arys been willing to accompany the child, Ferri would have spent her time with Aine. Geleth would be safely home. But they weren’t safe, and they weren’t home, and that was because Arys had been selfish. Again. Jeni: It doesn’t matter, Arys. Arys blinked and let Jeni redirect her thoughts to the matter at hand. Trovek: What? Jeni: Perhaps they are simply wormhole aliens. But that doesn’t change that faith in the Prophets helped Bajor to survive the occupation. You know of the orbs - it doesn’t matter if they provide visions or hallucinations. ::she paused and once more took her hand:: You know of countless people who have experienced guidance and comfort. Why would you be exempt? Arys closed her eyes. Decades ago, she had tried to find a connection to the prophets. She had prayed with her mother and her brother, she had celebrated Bajoran holidays, and she had spent her time studying what past kais and vadeks wrote. Trovek: I guess it … was always Aarons thing. Not mine. I tried. It didn’t work. Aaron had received visions and healing from his illness, and every step of his path seemed guided by the divine. Arys had received silence. Jeni: Just because it didn’t match what Aaron seemed to experience, you assumed it doesn’t work for you. Trovek: … Yes. And it had been one of the reasons she turned away from her Bajoran heritage, and any kind of tolerance for religious beliefs. Jeni: You felt that you weren’t good enough. Arys nodded and fell silent. Despite her success in the medical field, self-doubt and comparison with others were often present and followed her home every evening. Home, where Geleth *insisted* that Lukin read her the goodnight story and tucked her in, and where the little girl wanted to ‘eat what Lukin eats’ and did chores because it would make Lukin proud of her. She was trying what she could - allowed sweets and longer PADD-times, purchased things she liked… and Geleth still preferred the stricter parent. The one who wasn’t even related her. It was unfair. And perhaps that was the answer. Arys loved Lukin, and Arys loved Geleth too. But Geleth didn’t seem to love her back, and that … hurt. So Arys avoided her. The Prophets didn’t seem to answer Arys, so she avoided them. Jeni: Faith can grow. So can affection, Arys. ::she smiled gently:: And both can grow to look different than we’ve imagined them. ::she paused:: All I am asking you is to give it a chance. A seed cannot grow if you do not water it. Arys was sure she had heard that phrase before and she was certain that she had ignored it because it sounded stupid. Ignoring it now would be easy. Dismissing it would be easy. She did neither, even if she didn’t quite know why not. As a matter fact she didn’t know why she even listened to Jeni in the first place. None of it made sense, but Arys was too drained to ask question. Trovek: Okay. ::she nodded, once more wiping the tears from her face:: I… can give it a chance. [End Scene] ***************** Lt. Trovek Arys Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4

Welcome and welcome back!

I foresee a long line of puns surrounding Wes' name in the future.

Why do I get the suspicion that Sera is secretly a Mob boss?

.... ......... Boy, can this be taken out of context.

Oh it definitely still counts.

You and me both!

This was a good sim! Don't mess with Rue.

Everything's better with bacon.

I think she's taken a page out of @Karrod Niac's textbook.

Welcome to the fleet!

"Throwing 70 miles per hour - THAT'S throwing like a girl." - 13 year old Mo'ne Ikea Davis, American former Little League Baseball pitcher who pitched in and was the first girl to earn a win and to throw a shutout in the 2014 Little League World Series, and was the first black female to play in the LLWS.

I have a soft spot for Wyn's snark. IC: ((Shuttlecraft Seijin, on route to Herd location, Rakalla Province, Bajor)) This was supposed to be a casual flyby. A safe, simple scouting mission. And yet in the last twenty minutes it had gone from unnerving – finding out their chosen pilot was not skilled in in-atmosphere flight paths to concerning as they entered an unexpected atmospheric disturbance above the habitat of the pachitrods, and not it had turned downright confusing and dangerous as there appeared to be something or someone hiding in that atmospheric disturbance. Wyn was starting to think he was a bad luck charm, dooming every mission to disaster simply by his presence. And all of this while he tried his very best to make safe and careful decisions. He wasn’t a risk taker – he was a doctor! Foster: What do you mean there’s something hiding in the clouds? Tito: Give some coordinates and I will either stay clear or face them. Your call Commander. Foster: Stay clear! We’re not here to place police or heroes. We were here to scout! He would like to keep the original intent well in mind and he would note that they already had far more information on their scans than anyone had expected. Information that an intel guy like Tito could use… if they survived this. Sill-con: Commander, I know I'm not officially qualified to recommend tactics, but if the ship assaulting us originated from the poachers or pirates then retreating would not be feasible. Foster: How is retreating not feasible? ::The doctor asked a question that he truly didn’t understand the answer to.:: Aren’t we faster than them? Was this a pilot thing? Or a tactics thing? Or an engineering thing that he was totally unaware of? From what he understood this was a warp capable shuttle, nimble and decent at long range and built with all the power of Starfleet behind it. It had run teams behind enemy lines oin the Dominion war. The Runabout class was a hardy type. But he had no clue about cloud dwelling poacher ships. And really he wasn’t an engineer either, he had just dated a lot of them. Stupid adorably nerdy engineers. Tito: Whoever they are, it’s not an official ship. The Government and Security forces are aware of our presence. Could you be right, Ensign? Is it some support ship for the poachers? Sill-con: ::leans into monitor:: unknown sir, the ship prowls away before we could get any definitive readings, if we are to identify if the model is used by poachers we need a clear opening to scan them. He sucked a breath in through his teeth hating every moment of this. Foster: So we don’t know what it is, and we don’t know what it can do… And for reasons he didn’t understand but was taking into consideration they also couldn’t just run away and come back to scan another day with a crack pilot. Wyn didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. Tito: Whatever it is it’s close Tito upped the throttle to avoid the bolts of – lightening? Weapons? It was difficult to tell as they crackled out of the clouds. They could be natural. They could be weapons made to blend in with the storm. Or they might be a combination of the two. Foster: Too close. ::He drew in a short breath forcing himself to be calm. He was the leader after all and someone had to keep this show running, now matter how much targ dung they waded into.:: How do we get some distance safely? Sill-con: hm… I'm not sure, perhaps if we commit to a barrel roll that abruptly halts its speed may throw them off long enough to get our bearings and get a scan… maybe an opening to attack. He turned oh so slowly and blinked. Do a barrel roll? He was pretty sure that, up to this point, he had only heard the words barrel roll in the terms of hot shot show off piloting maneuvers that were best attempted on the holodeck with the safeties on, and in holo games. He had never once realized that it was an actual real-world maneuver that people used in combat. He was starting to wish he hadn’t slept through most of basic piloting in the academy. Tito: Well it can’t get any worse. Foster: You had to say it… He intoned as a stray burst of energy welled up from the clouds and streaked out with a thunderous wave accompanying the wave of lightening. It clipped the Seijin in the aft and slammed it forward like a tiny boat caught up in a tidal wave. Sill-con: brace- ::shakes in chair:: Tito: You mean… Wyn didn’t care, he was already strapped in and he pushed Tito against his seat hard, hitting the perfect set of trigger points to prompt an immediate brace reflex in the intel officer. He didn’t care of Tito had some antisocial tendencies and probably hated being touched. He would apologize for doing things that helped people stay alive… never. Foster: BRACE MEANS BRACE. Eeven with the prompt Tito was jolted around like one of those shuttle crash test dummies at the academy, taking advantage of all the safety measures that had been stocked in the shuttle just for cases like this. The inertial dampeners screamed in protest as the shuttle went sideways and Wyn’s newly fixed antennae twitched constantly, trying to figure out what way was up. Sill-con: geh… the rear has received damage, we're not critical but we cannot take another strike commander! What are we to do? Foster: Damage report! And where’s our friend? He said friend in the most sarcastic manner possible. The ship out there was hardly a friend. Tito: We can’t keep up, I am barely able to fly it, we have to land. Foster: Then land! That’s way better then dying up here! He still wasn’t trying to play a hero, and somehow fate kept chasing them. Sill-con: ? Tito: Brace yourselves, I will come in a bit fast but I am confident we can land safely. Foster: Once again, brace means brace… Sill-con: ? The altitude dropped severely and Wyn clenched his teeth and prayed to whatever gods in the universe that hated them right now to not be sick. He never did zero grav well and a sudden altitude drop was dangerously close to a zero grav experience. Therefore dangerously close to the barf zone. Don’t barf. That would only make things worse. Tito: Surely we had to land in the middle of the phachytrods… Foster: Please don’t hit the things we’re tasked to protect… He said it through clenched teeth, willing himself not to be sick. That would be one fun report. ‘Dear Commodore, we kinda killed the things you sent us to protect. The poachers love us, now…’ Sometimes the most dangerous thing in the world wasn’t a criminal, but a well-intentioned idiot. And he wasn’t sure how, but he was pretty sure that under his leadership this team had become just that. Sill-con: ? Well, he had to give Tito credit as he swerved away from the herd of pachitrods. Points for keeping to the mission, but the damaged shuttle wasn’t doing so well on the descent. This was not going to be a soft landing by any stretch of the imagination. Wyn glanced over and watched the sweat bead up and drip down Tito’s brow and he frowned. That told him the shuttle was less under Tito’s control and more under the suggestion of where to go and gravity was in control of the rest. Tito: HOLD ON TO SOMETHING… Wyn grit his teeth. His father had lost a leg in a shuttlecraft crash, and for years Wyn had desperately tried to not become his father, only to very much become his father. Oh please, fate, he really would like to keep both legs. Both arms. Both antennae. As the tip of the nose turned upwards, alarms blared, the shuttle shields flared and the safety measures went off, Wyn grabbed the straps of the seat, brought his legs towards him to curl up in the most protective position possible and braced. Exhaust vents hissed, alarms shrieked, the lights guttered. The shuttle hit the ground with a booming impact. And then it spun. And spun. And spun. He sucked in a breath. Awesome. He was alive. And he was still the leader. Great. This was all his fault. And he was sure several someone’s would have his head for this. For trying to be safe. For trying to be careful. Tito: Sound off, Commander, Ensign, still with me? Foster: I am unfortunately still alive and apparently in one piece. With both legs, both arms and both antennae. That was decent. His head was ringing from the noise and the impact. That wasn’t a head injury, it was sensory overload on his still healing antennae. He was dizzy as a result, that swimmy sense of vertigo. Therefore he wasn’t moving. Sill-con: ? He lifted his head listening to a strange arrythmic drumming sound coming from outside. Foster: What’s that sound… ? He asked it. Tito: WHAT THE FRACK? THEIR STAMPEDING? And then immediately wished he didn’t ask it. He didn’t think these things could stampede. Apparently they could. Foster: Polarize the hull plating. ::He said almost by instinct.:: Run the reserve energy from the engines to do it. Because clearly they didn’t need the engines anymore. Despite his almost total lack of engineering knowledge he said it with such confidence that it was a clear and precise, unquestionable order. Tito/Sill-con: ? Foster: Amp up as much of the power reserves into the hull plating and don’t move. Don’t touch the outer walls, you’ll get a nasty shock… Tito/Sill-con: ? Foster: What can I say? I have a bad habit of dating engineers and sometimes that nerdy engineering bedroom talk teaches you stupid things that I guess save you from stampeding elephant-cows. If he ever saw Choi Ji-hu again he would have to thank the Engineer for that tidbit. Then again Ji-hu had suffered from a Vulcan mindmeld that Wyn had forbade due to the dangers involved… and was never really the same person after that. But it was funny how the past sometimes came up to help you in the present, even if that was buttersweet. Tito/Sill-con: ? As the energy from the damaged engines coursed across the hull the atmosphere in the shuttle started to crackle with an uncomfortable sense of static electricity. Outside the pachitrods started to naturally part around the crackling shuttle. One particularly impulsive big male tried to ram the rear end of the shuttle and immediately gave a mooing-yelp as an electric charge crackled against it’s hide. It stumbled drunkenly away and then started running with the herd. After that the remaining pachtrods gave the Seijin a wide berth. Wyn let out the breath he was holding and panted for a bit of extra oxygen. Foster: Well, that could have gone way better… He didn’t want to say it couldn’t have gone worse, because it could and he didn’t want worse. Tito/Sill-con: ? Foster: Are there any injuries and are the comms still working? Get the two critical next pieces of information on the table. Tito/Sill-con: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ Lt Commanedr Shar’Wyn Foster Chief Surgeon StarBase 118 Ops

Not that we're doing anything sus.

I added #15! https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Ferengi_Rules_of_Acquisition

Congratulations and welcome! And welcome back too!

For context, Don/Kel's NPC was paralyzed from the neck down. And as I read this line, I had visions in my head... http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AIeHW5qjqc0/VEPuIK8bBFI/AAAAAAAAAUg/roxzQYW5lgs/s1600/Black-Knight.gif