Alora DeVeau

From our very own @Ben Garcia (( Debris field, both now and before. )) In a shadow they slept, In a shadow where the radiation from the fire star crept. In a dream dark and warm, In a dream where they weren't alone. A space ribboned with the chorus of minds, A space known once as home. Bound and cribbed and boxed, no longer free to roam, Boxed and cribbed and bound, a living tomb. Snared by victory, Snared by the prey. Their victory lust carried on solar winds, Two victories imagined, two hopeful winners never conceiving of their own defeat. That was the gambit's seed, the deadly conceit, To lure, trap and digest those feeble waring egos with a telepathic deceit. The mirage of victory unleashed a battery of assault, Charges clawed and pulses tore, fired by those aboard. Then the crib, the binding box. A rigid grip spanning length and breadth, Except for a vent to gawp and mouth. Stranded in a bind, time drifted of its own accord, Ebbing and flowing between now and before. In the confusion an alignment, two paths collided, A starship was swallowed. An opportunity for unboxing, setting free, Mutual understanding would the key. MSNPC Unknown Creature, Simmed by: _____________________________ Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia Chief Operations Officer USS Thor Author ID number: G239102MR0

Poor Anton.

Wait...THE date, or *A* date?

Don't underestimate yourself!

I couldn't help it. I laughed at the bald captain remark.

To which position are you referring?

You're her counselor. I would think you'd know the answer to that by now.

Which is worse? Terra Prime, or the bad jokes?

Both are going to happen.

Commander Nijil, please validate your information before sharing. We ant to make sure we're not spreading 'alternative facts'.

Isn't finding one YOUR job? 😄

I just love the way Jamie brings her characters across in her writing, and the atmosphere here is just like a breath of fresh air as I read this. ((Academy Campus Green – StarBase 118)) Some Cadets enter the academy because they had a family tradition of Starfleet service. Some had high hopes and were the first of their family to move forward and enter the ranks to better themselves and make a name for themselves in the universe. Very few could say they made a calculated mistake, took a near-fatal electrical shock and decided to change careers in the aftermath. Even fewer could then boast that they went far higher than they ever dreamed and made far more of themselves then they ever would have as a civilian scientist. And yet somehow, incredibly, that was exactly how Sal Taybrim got here. Sometimes he even wondered how that path had wandered through the universe to end up here. Taybrim: I spent a lot of time working with Starfleet medical in the aftermath. Not only in recovery but on reports. I liked how the approached problems with a goal towards solutions rather than Federation science which tends to approach problem with an intent to keep questioning and hope that someone finds use from the data. Harper: Something that could have been a tragedy turned into a benefit. He nodded gently, considering that perspective. Taybrim: Some things are truly tragedies that cannot be turned. I would not disparage the suffering to say that all bad situations can be turned into benefits. But I do find that it is a powerful strength to be able to understand when tragedy has a potential benefit and to seize it when you can. He had seen too much pain and suffering to think that there was really, truly a silver lining in every cloud. Sometimes things just sucked. Sometimes life was unjust and unfair and the only way to get past that was to be able to stomp and yell and be angry at how unfair it was or sad at how much it sucked. Processing difficult situations was as important and valuable as being positive. Sometimes moreso. Harper: Do you ever wonder what your life might have been like had you not received that shock? He gave a gentle assent, his gaze turning towards the simulated horizon. He would have much stronger telepathy, but his empathy would have stayed at baseline sensitivity. He would have stayed complacent in his role. He would have married for social standing. He would have probably been a good father. It would be different. He probably would even be happy. But he was already happy and didn’t feel the need to dwell on what ifs when the right now’s were something that gave him joy. Taybrim: Sometimes. I don’t dwell on what ifs more than as a curiosity. ::He smiled gently:: I like where I am. But, as a curiosity… I probably would have eventually been promoted to work on the planetside facility of Tona IV, settled down, married and had kids. My mother would have liked that a lot. It would have been pleasant. Sal generally found ways to make things pleasant. It was just in his nature. Taybrim: What about you? Harper: I’d likely have stayed on Earth. Maybe I would have gone into the medical field. At some point, I would have taken over the ranch from my father. He nodded, trying to imagine her on a ranch. He had a vague picture, but not a clear one, not from seeing how much she shined as an Starfleet cadet. Taybrim: But…? ::he prompted the rest of the story.:: Harper: Things change. My path led me here. Now we’ll see where else it leads. Taybrim: That is all we can do. They walked in silence for a few moments before she changed the direction of the conversation once again. Harper: Do you missed Betazed? Taybrim: I am nostalgic for it when I think about it. I enjoy when I visit. But I do not miss it so much to be melancholy. Harper: ? He smiled, looking out at the academy green that sprawled before them, having completed a half loop and coming back around. Taybrim: I have the benefit of liking where I am, very much. That chases the doldrums away. Harper: ? Taybrim: Do you miss your home? Harper: ? He nodded gently. Taybrim: I think that is natural. Harper: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ Commodore Sal Taybrim Commanding Officer StarBase 118 Ops

*groan*

You don't know the half of it.

I personally have a hard time figuring out what to do in a ship battle. @Kaijin445 writes up an introduction that certainly allows more insight. I always appreciate the way you set up and narrate a scene. Welcome back! IC: ((Bridge, USS Rahuba)) A tactical officer's job was sometimes (sorry, usually) unpleasant in principle. Wherever you fired upon the other ship you risked killing someone, or someones, another few people who wouldn't be going back to their families this time around, or ever, really. Not a nice thought indeed. That being said there was something a little satisfying every time you actually hit your target, like zapping a fly, which was odd. Ish. Sadly (or maybe not so sadly) that wasn't what Dunamis was doing today. That job fell to his department head; today he was covering at the Engineering station working phaser banks while co-ordinating repairs on the side. Imagine handling and firing deadly weapons while being budget receptionist slash co-ordinator to a multitude of calls about where to go and why coming in every few seconds while clinging on while the giant metal cocoon around you jackknifed its way through the air. That was exactly what the experience was like (sorry, was) for him; he took it in stride, but by whichever higher power existed was it hard. Dal/Zel/Y'zyr: ? Maxwell: Here's another for you lad. Another phaser blast across the hull and one "miss" near the bridge. Dal/Zel/Y'zyr: ? He'd only just glanced up when a torpedo streaked between the vessels, smashing into hull plating and knocking the coolant remixer of Obsen's ship out of alignment. Or at least that was what his console said. That was good. That meant that his power levels were going to plunge even further and give them a little more time to get him (or get himself to, he supposed) where they wanted him to go. Stamina was the name of the game here and Obsen's was running out. Maxwell: Oops, was that me? Dal/Zel/Y'zyr: ? Ha ha. Funny. At least his department head had some sense of humor, which was appreciated. Dune: Yes, sir. His scrawny fingers deftly manipulated and pressed down on the firing controls, and watched with satisfaction as the beams of brilliant orange punctured a small hole in the coolant pipes and a greenish cloud began to billow from the ship. Now not only was the coolant getting dirtier by the second, it was leaking out into the emptiness of space, too. It wouldn't be long before their goal was reached. Dune: ::glancing down at his console:: Osben's coolant systems are leaking, sirs, I estimate about ten minutes before his warp drive systems fail from overheating. Dal/Zel/Y'zyr/Maxwell: ? Though of course knowing their adversary that wouldn't necessarily rattle him too hard. At prima facie he judged Trampis Osben to be an incredibly prideful man who placed himself on a pedestal, who bullied weaker others with his likely ill-earned title and had gotten away with it so often that he was convinced that everyone would cave the same way. The fact that he poured so much power to weapons and offensive systems in lieu of, you know, using it to keep his ship together, said much the same. The other vessel fired yet again. Dunamis was shaken by the impact, clinging to the edge of the engineering console. Dune: ::glancing down:: Shields holding at 94%. Hull breach on deck nine, emergency force fields have erected and sealed it for the time being. Dal/Zel/Y'zyr/Maxwell: ? No time to waste. Dunamis' palm slapped down on the engineering console, opening a communications channel: Dune: =/\= Damage control teams, this is the bridge. Please proceed to deck nine and effect repairs to the wall located at bulkhead 7A. =/\= Engineer: =/\= Copy, we'll be there, over. =/\= That was the easy bit. The need to coordinate repairs was an ongoing one and more would come soon enough and he knew that a little too well. Dune: Engineering is dispatching a team to the location of the breach, Commander. The comms rang once more, likely the slimy 'general' with all his bravado demanding their surrender. Persistent, wasn't he, he thought with a sliver of irritation. Some people simply didn't learn the first time round. Oh, well. This was a job for the higher-ups on bridge, not he. Not for a while at least. Dal/Zel/Y'zyr/Maxwell: ? Ensign Dunamis Tactical Officer Starbase 118 - USS Narendra 0239706DM0

Almost every time @Anton Richards posts, I laugh out loud quite literally. ((Dark Corridor, Present, Proud Mary)) Richards: The weird symbol, the boy, the fact that every time Greaves thinks about touching his combadge we get sucked into time… I think someone besides Starfleet Command wants us to find out what happened here. Greaves: I guess the question then is who… or what. Richards: I’m not sure that I want to find out. Peri seemed at a loss for words. Greaves: What about that engineering compartment we were in? If we dig around, maybe we could find some rare particles or something that could cancel out the chroniton waves. Peri turned and offered a small smile. Katsim: That would be the antichronitons. Those are what bring us back. Of course. Anton knew that…. Richards: If we could generate our own chronitons. Maybe perhaps we could balance out the effect. We might need to scavenge some tech though. Greaves: Yeah, that too. Good thinking. If we're lucky, it's not rusted to pieces or blasted apart. Katsim: Chronitons are difficult to control, but antichronitons are more stable. Greaves: All but the most basic particle physics are a bit beyond me. Is there any reason this ship would have a store of antichronitons? Richards: Maybe something in the engineering department could help us generate a bio-temporal field? Peri glanced up and down the hallway. Katsim: We can try. Anton was just using words that he remembered from the academy. Richards: Wait.. Really? Greaves: Well in that case, it’s back to main engineering, if we can even call it that. Lietenant Katsim, lead the way. (Motioning for the woman to take the lead) Just as Anton saw Peri step forward, the room filled with a glowing bright light. It was warm, almost inviting. As Anton managed to open his eyes, he and the party were staring a figure that appeared to be composed entirely of light. Was this some form of spiritual deity? Greaves: Federation Marine Corps, halt! Well. Let’s hope not. Potentially for the best, the figure made no acknowledgement of Wes’s command and continued to glide effortlessly past Peri to Anton where it again reached toward his face before pausing. Anton had known all along he was the chosen one. His time had come. Ascension was in the midst. Anton focused deep into the figures “eyes”. He was ready to receive his blessing. What would it be though? Perhaps eternal wisdom? A meaning to life? An answer to the great question of death? The being flicked Anton on the nose and left immediately. What the heck? Anton looked back and forth between Peri and Wes. Richards: Well…? Have I transcended? Katsim: Oh Prophets! Richards: No need to refer to me as a prophet child. I was once a mortal walking amongst the paradox of time such as yourself. Wes and Peri completely ignored Anton. Greaves: I’m not so sure What I am sure of is that we’re still stuck on this rotten tug, and unless the Prophets whisk us away, we need to find some anti-chronitons. Let’s move. Anton closed his eyes and began waving his arms around. He would do it. He would use his newly obtained powers to send the party back to safety… It didn’t work, and Anton followed Wes. ------------------------------------------- Lieutenant JG Anton Richards Security Officer USS Thor T239802AR1

You're so sweet! I've really enjoyed participating and look forward to more JPs in the future!

This sounds a lot like me. LOL

Who cares about Anton, right? 😄

🤣

This had me rolling!

Being polite is always best practice.

No wonder Ben's always broke!

*cackle*

Anton's metaphorical dad is about to have a conniption fit.