Alora DeVeau

OOC: Been really enjoying @Ashley Yael's PNPC, Y'zyr! IC: ((Main Engineering, USS Rahuba)) Ozai had brought up all their collected data on the main center view screen in engineering. The ship was huge, really. Didn’t seem capable of space flight, but somehow it worked. Not everything was apparent at first with this type of machine, of course. Various space-worthy designs were the norm, all being unique as their developers found solutions to problems in their own ways. But for its size, it had almost no weaponry. Nothing to write home about anyway. The scans of the Rahuba were clear, but as they worked they were able to start clearing up the data on that other ship. It was probably a *good* thing they didn’t have many weapons… for the size, one might assume a relatively large complement of them. But the much smaller Rahuba could probably take them out if it wanted… they tended *not* to want that though. Star Fleet being the non-violent sorts, unless provoked. Velix: And how are they even moving it? Biodigester? Because considering nature and radiation doesn’t go well together, that would suck. Hael: Oh boy ::he agreed.:: we gonna wanna run this by their engineer too, bu’ it be lookin’ like their systems ain’ holdin’ up. Rustyy reviewed the data pad, and Velix looked at Ozai expectantly. Y’zyr: Despite their size, it seems we outmatch them with our defensive tech. The ion storm knocked loose a lot of bits. But I can’t identify a propulsive source with the data we have. The cybernetic Trill was doing his best, but he felt outmatched by the data and the task. He was supposed to be kicking hostile aliens around, not patching their engines for them. It was lucky he was a quick learner… building bots like Geoff had him understanding a lot more tech stuff about himself, and that translated nicely into some systemic use. Still. The brain power in a trained engineer likely outmatched his ability to the same tune as the alien ship vs the Rahuba. Hael: I ain’ to sure If’n it’s how their ship runs or If’n the extra ::he waved his hands about.:: stuff in the cloud be affectin’ them more. See ‘ere - ::he pointed to one of the scans.:: Velix: It would be great to have one of their engineers tell us how exactly their ship works. Other than that… I mean from what we *do* know it doesn’t look good. They seem to have sustained quite some damage. Y’zyr: Combination hits. The tachyons, ion storm, and the natural material in the cloud are all compounding one another. ::pausing, he visualized the problem for a moment as his metallic gold eyes scrolled the data:: We don’t have enough data on their ship directly, but we’ve got plenty of data on the Jenatris Cloud composition. If we can help them filter out the cloud particulates first, it might give them breathing room to solve the larger scale engineering problems. They could take a little weight off their shoulders that way. Let them focus on their own tech. Hael: Reckons I be agreein’ wit’ tha’ theory. Their science assistant gave him a look that seemed both approving and also questioning at the same time. What the question was, he wasn’t sure, and after making eye contact for an uncomfortable moment he went back to formulating the possible plan. Y’zyr: I’d go with direct filtration. Extend our shield to encompass theirs… match shield parameters… and clear the enclosed space of intrusive particles. Give them a bubble of “clean” space to work in, stop them intaking what’s harming their ship. Was that stupid? That was stupid, right? He looked to Hael, wanting an engineers thoughts on just how stupid that was. But it made sense in his brain, and sometimes his stupid ideas were the best ideas. And sometimes they were just flat out stupid. But a *few* times they’d been kind of brilliant! He could hit another one out of the park. His completely unearned but inflated confidence told him so. Hael: ? Neeya let them discuss amongst them. Even though she had *some* engineering knowledge, that was lifetimes ago, and hardly up to date. For example, now that she was looking at the preliminary information about the other ship, it seemed like chroniton particles were leaking from the cloud into the ship itself. And that wasn’t possible. Right? Velix: Uhm… Hael: ? Velix: Stupid question, but what does ::she pointed at the specific readings:: that mean? Ozai focused on what she was pointing at, and he was drawing a blank. He didn’t know what the problem was. What was she seeing that he wasn’t? Hael: ? But they didn’t have a chance to leap into it before Commander Dal’s voice came over the comm line. Dal: =/\=Commander Dal to Commander Hael =/\= Hael: =/\= ? Dal: =/\= Commander, we’ve successfully made first contact with the species in the geodesic dome. They are willing to assist us in getting back through the temporal anomaly if we can help them repair their engines so they can get out of the Jenatris Cloud. =/\= Repairing the alien ships engines? That was a *lot* bigger than just bubbling them in a warp field to ease the leakage problem with the particulate problem from the chronotons and cloud. Ozai’s eyebrows scrunched downward with concern as he wondered how the first contact had gone. Were the aliens huge like their vessel? How would they assist them, exactly? Hael: =/\= ? Dal: =/\= From initial scans the engine design of this ship is a complete marvel. Hael: =/\= ? Dal: =/\= Doctor Trovek is working on quick parameters on how to safely be able to enter their atmosphere. For most of our species their air is breathable, but we want to be careful. Preparing EVA suits is not a bad idea. =/\= Wait… they were going over to the other vessel? For a moment Ozai got excited again. Now *that* was his kind of mission! His hopes rose as he realized they would need a security detachment, and an EVA suit mission atop that was always exciting. Hael: =/\= ? Dal: =/\= You can contact Ensign Veelix to assist, and use Y’zyr as well. =/\= Aaaaaand his hopes were dashed. He was chained to solving engineering issues? *That* was boring… was it because he was already here in engineering, and it was easiest that way? Or was it because he was more machine than person, so they figured he belonged in engineering? Letting out a breath, he tried not to show his annoyance. He could still learn a lot while they let him mess with the systems. Though he’d rather be out there in the thick of things, potentially kicking alien butt. Well… not all aliens needed kicking. He could live with that. Hael: =/\= ? Dal: =/\= I am getting you into contact with their Chief Engineer, Ya’faemi… =/\= Okay! An alien engineer? That was slightly *less* boring, despite his disappointment he would still get to meet and maybe work with an advanced alien race. That was potentially worth it. Would this Ya’faemi come work with them here, or would it all be remotely done? The voice that came over the comms was translated roughly with some accent, but at least the Universal Translator seemed to have their language down. Ya’faemi/Hael/Velix: =/\= ? Y’zyr: ::noting aloud:: We will need better specs on the engineering systems in question if we’re going to be of much use in helping fix them. The insinuation being, their engineer could send them the data, rather than having them rely on questionable scans corrupted by chronitons and cloud dirt. Ya’faemi/Hael/Velix: ? ~*~ Ensign Ozai Y’zyr Tactical & Security Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0

Welcome! I hope we can write together some day!

From the narration of Sal:

((Transport - The Shinobi)) The trip was long, the void of space stretching endlessly outside the view windows. The stars warped past… or rather, they warped past the stars. The pilot was a chatty Bolian who kept up a running conversation very much with himself, and with a few small points of input from the Denobulan hybrid sitting in the furthest seat to the back. Ash kept mostly to himself though, letting the Bolain socially torment any other riders who came aboard while he watched out the view ports for hour upon hour. Thinking. Dwelling. He didn’t sleep. He felt… well… he wasn’t sure how he felt, exactly. Disjointed? Strange. He felt strange. He’d recalled almost everything he hadn’t been able to, but it was still hard to logically place the pieces together. Like having a slightly unfinished puzzle, you knew what the image was, that you had all the pieces, but you just couldn’t magic the larger chunks into one whole. He *had* it all, thanks to Kherys. But… Maybe it was because he didn’t like what he knew. It was irrational. Less on the emotional side and more on the physical, he wore a new patch over his injured eye. Medical scans revealed it was finally starting to heal, thanks in part to his inherently vigorous Denobulan halves immune system. His other wounds were well enough along, apparently his body had finally gotten to that line on the To-Do List. The doctor gave it a healing boost that would encourage cellular turnover, but it would still need to rest in order to continue the healing process on its own. Despite his not being rather foreboding in stature, he still inherited that physical prowess at least. It made him glad he took after his Denobulan side so strongly. If they could get through something, they could *usually* heal from it. Physically, anyway. Pilot: ::continuing some story he’d been telling on and off for approximately an hour now:: So I’m telling the guy, you *can’t* take a Risian hor’ghan with you to Casperia Prime. It’s *rude.* Just RUDE, I’m telling you. Completely different cultures, if both luxurious of course, but *different.* They’ll smile to your face and then tell stories about That Guy With The Hor’ghan in the staff rooms. They might not remember your name, but they’ll *never* forget what you did! The animated Bolian kept talking even as a Human woman took the second main seat, rode to her location, departed, and a Vulcan gentleman joined them for another leg toward Vulcan. There were a few others as well in the eight seat transport. Thankfully, aside the endless chatter, the trip was quiet and uneventful. Eventually though, he did rest the side of his forehead up against the window next to his seat. He wasn’t sure when, but his single amethyst eye drifted shut after some time, and he slipped into a shallow half-sleep, his body slumping with his shoulder braced against the bulkhead in his seated position. ((Vulcan - Above The Forge)) Pilot: ::cheerfully:: Estimated arrival time to transporter range with Vulcan, thirteen minutes! Ashley jarred awake at the sudden announcement being made over the small intercom. That was somewhat unnecessary, with there being only eight seats in the shuttlecraft… but it *had* gotten his attention. He pushed up from his slumped position… his back ached, and he stretched it, groaning lightly as his back popped and cracked. The Vulcan sitting silently across the walkway from him glanced his way, an eyebrow rising slightly with silent judgment. Yeah. A one-eyed Denobulan-Human hybrid on Vulcan. It was… probably not the norm. Pilot: Mr. Tumehn, your location is coming up first. If you’ll step onto the transport pad. The Vulcan gentleman did so, carrying his small satchel, and was transported to the surface near his arrival location as they orbited above it. Pilot: Mr. Yael, you’re next. Yael: Please set me down on the main road outside Shi’Kahr. There was a pause as the pilot recalculated the transporter, the Bolian seeming puzzled for a moment. Pilot: That’s about eight kilometers away from the Seleya complex. Yael: I understand. Pilot: Do you… have a pickup scheduled? Yael: ::smiling at the Bolian as he took his place on the transporter pad:: No. Pilot: Oh… ::eyeing him with uncertainty::... well, alright then. The transporter shimmered in that bluish gold, and he was remolecularized on an expansive, open roadway outside the city of Shi’Kahr. The glinting lights from the city glimmered in the heat of what was mid-day, locally… the heat was a bit refreshing for a half-tropical species such as himself. The starbase wasn’t *cold* exactly… but he sometimes wore a thin *thermal* underlayer to his uniform in order to say that. For this trip though, he didn’t need all that. He had shirked his uniform early in the shuttle trip for a simple off-white, v-neck linen shirt, full sleeved but very light, along with a similarly smart pair of off-black sports leggings, along with black walking canvas shoes. Dressed smartly for comfort in the heat, he raised a hand over the level of his good eye, shading it from the sun above as he looked around him. The road leading to Seleya from Shi’Kahr was not a modern marvel, despite Vulcan being a perfectly modernized place. There were certain places that remained as hand-shod as it had been in the Age of Awakening, and this road was one of them. Travelers historically walked it barefoot to reach the temple of Seleya, and he was nothing if not accommodating of local tradition. But… he glanced down at the searing hot, somewhat uneven rocks and shifting loose sand in the warm breezes at his shoes… Yeah. He was keeping his shoes. Slipping a pair of sunglasses out of the small pack lashed to his thigh by a slim leg belt, he slid them on over the patch and looked into the distance at the small red mountain looming ahead. Eight kilometers. He could do that. Eight kilometers was *nothing* to a trained Starfleet officer. TBC ~*~ Lieutenant JG Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0

From the narrative of Y'zyr: Down boy. Take it easy.

From the Narrative of Y'zyr:

How could anyone hate a capybara?

Surely they're not quite *that* helpless!

((Yael’s Studio Quarters - Starbase 118 Ops)) It was enough. It was really just *so* enough. Honestly he didn’t want to do this again, even if it hadn’t worked yet. He felt so… fractured. He could hardly tell what one feeling was before another would overwhelm him. His hand beneath his good eye was damp… small drops fell into his palm, silently. He didn’t make a single sound, save to forcibly breathe more slowly than he needed. It helped him formulate an iota of calm when he felt anything but. Harper: Ashley… Yael: ::sounding small, without lifting his face from his hands:: … please leave. She stood and contemplated, and then… he felt her weight sit next to him on the couch. It was the opposite of leaving, in fact. He wasn’t sure what to do or say about that… he had no fight in him. Harper: Ashley… There was an empty moment before he sighed, sliding his hands down his face and then dropping his arms to fall on his thighs. He knew that tone. He took a deep breath before responding evenly. Yael: Yes? Harper: I can’t leave. Not like this. Did she feel responsible? There was no blaming anyone, save maybe himself to an extent. He’d gotten what he asked for, and she’d warned him copiously. He’d pushed, and she’d relented. The Denobulan hybrid knew that tone well though, and she meant what she said. He took another stabilizing breath, willing himself to slow his heart rate, slow his breathing. It… sort of worked. Yael: It’s… just a deluge. And things I knew from reports, but… reports have no texture. It’s like… suddenly seeing color when you’ve been colorblind. He’d had no idea what all he’d been missing. And even if they didn’t find the answer he’d been seeking exactly, the memories they did retrieve and flesh out were heavy weights now that they fit into the structure of his recollections. Harper: It’s okay. We are friends. *Good* friends. You can trust me. Sometimes we need other people. Remaining where he was for a drawn out moment longer, he didn’t really want her to stay. But it was more that he wouldn’t want anyone to stay, rather than feeling it about her personally. Hide it away, deny it, joke about it. Wasn’t that what he always did? Finally he moved. He slowly eased back against the couch, letting his weight slip down into it… and then he let himself lean to the side, against her shoulder. He took another deep breath, this one coming a bit easier than those before it. It was no dramatic proclamation. No neon sign in the dark. But it was acceptance, nonetheless, and a sign he was giving up any pretense. Silence stretched out between them, but it was a silence that grew in comfort, and his breathing finally eased off into a natural pace. His weight seemed to increase, and his good eye was heavy. The adrenaline from the memory procedure was bleeding out of him, leaving weakness in its wake. Though he wanted to nestle in and disappear into his nest of blankets and pillows on the bed only some ten feet away, he weighed the contribution it would take in moving from where he was, leaned up against his warm friend... and it wasn't worth the change of scenery. Before he let the exhaustion claim him, he allowed himself an honest feeling. He was glad she stayed. Even when he was sure he wanted to be alone, when he was being honest with himself that was just him hiding away, self defending. And he rarely felt *better* if left alone. In reality, Denobulans *rarely* wanted to be alone. And Kherys staying did, somehow, make him feel better. Her steadying and well intentioned presence didn't leave him in a vacuum of emotionally chaotic energy that could easily go downhill when unguided... and her presence guided it now. He tried to fight it, but his good amethyst eye fluttered shut. Within moments there was a slightly less normal sound. A very, very light rasping sound as he breathed. It was the very hint of what could be an adorably tiny snore. ~*~ Lieutenant JG Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0

But wait...this is space...didn't we...you know...break that limit already? 😄

I dunno, Greaves has pretty high standards. 😄

OOC: The follow up to the White Void! Excellent writing from Yael, as usual. IC: ((Yael’s Studio Quarters - Starbase 118 Ops)) ((Mindscape)) They had been tossed unceremoniously into the back of the prison transport, only for the walls to blanch out. It had been dark initially, then gone a pale white. The walls… well, there were barely walls, despite their being trapped within them. Yael ~ What is going on?! ~ Harper: ~You’re tensing. ~ His inner image pressed uselessly against the walls, getting caught up in the systemic mental jarring and chaos. This wasn’t his field. This wasn’t his expertise. He had *thought* he knew his own mind well enough to navigate it… not like a telepath could, but as well as any non-telepath should be able to. But the disjointed array of half truths and things that seemed to be memory but might not be combined with the sharp realism of the memories that were valid… it was almost overwhelming. Yael: ~ This *isn’t* how it’s supposed to go! ~ He felt it emerging within him… a foreign source of stability. He didn’t turn, more, he *felt* the force of Kherys calm presence. Her voice radiated through him like heat in the cold. Harper: ~Breathe. Breathe deep. If you lose control, I can not help you. You have to relax.~ Turning to press his back against the wall that had trapped them in, he watched the entire visual… if it was a visual, there in his mind… shimmer before stabilizing. If he focused on her voice… and *not* on the chaos and fragments… it seemed more real. The colors seemed less greyscale. He didn’t *say* it, but he still projected the doubt-filled thought loud and clear. Yael: ~ I’m not sure I can… ~ She engaged in her own advice and breathed, trapped in the white space with him. Despite the array of contrasting, unsteady emotions around her, she still managed to radiate the calm of a practiced mind, steadying everything around her with her breath. Harper: ~Perhaps it’s too soon, Ashley. You need more time.~ Yael: ~ Don’t give up on it yet… let me try again. ~ There in his mind, he breathed… and his body in his quarters matched the mental representation of breath. He took it in deep, held it a few seconds, and then slowly let it out. Then again. He tried to latch onto her stable presence. Emulate it. Relax. Breathing. Relax. He had asked for this. He wanted this. This could still work, if he relaxed and stopped trying to force the process. Let it happen. He closed his minds eyes to any visuals. Let them fade away and stopped focusing on coalescing them into what he wanted. The white room remained, but everything outside of it melted away with his expectations. He stopped trying to [...] the water, stopped trying to force it to run where he thought it ought to, and let it flow. The haphazard emotions eased, slowly, but surely. Breathing. And Kherys matched his breathing. Harper: ~Let’s start again. The mission. Earlier. Begin just after you decided on the plan. What happened after you left that apartment? Take it slow.~ Yael: ~ Okay. The mission. The apartment… ~ He tried to focus without tensing up, and voices filled the white void. They were nondescript at first, more a jumble of several voices, none of which were dominant. They flowed in the river, bubbling up and then melding back into the soft white of noise. Kherys’ voice first, her bidding him to relax. Then his mothers, telling him not to be scared… the elephants didn’t appear again, but the sentiment of strength filtered through the words. Then it was Alora’s voice, putting the plan in place, surrounded by the ragtag team of rebels on Miranda, who they’d met in the apartment. Okay. That’s where he wanted to be. He thought for a moment he had it, but the next voice to clear the combined murmur was Wyn, the Andorians sharp New England accent sliding easily into prominence. He was ranting angrily about something medical… but there was a warm familiarity lacing the anger, like it was a safe space to vent in. Ash then found himself unintentionally focusing on a voice he’d not heard in some time… Anthony Meeks, issuing orders while they were having a training session… one where Ash had spent most of his time being thrown. The mental image was suddenly bright, the training room swirling as his body was thrown. *THWUMP* He was suddenly facing up at the ceiling of the gym, the breath knocked out of him as he panted lightly, a strong Human hand reaching down to help him up. The Marine smiled down at him. He was clearly amused at either how easy Ash was to throw, or his tenacity to keep getting up again. This wasn’t right. This was *nice,* but it wasn’t right. Ashley almost laughed in his mind… what the Hell was he thinking about *this* for? It was a *good* memory, no doubt about that. Despite the physical action it was calm. The gym smelled a bit musty, but it was comfortable. The sweat lacing his skin was well earned, and a warm, loving feeling swept through him as he reached up to take that strong hand. He felt *safe* here. Only for Alora’s voice to cut through the warmth like a hot knife. DeVeau: ~ Ashley, you mentioned you’ve been training. ~ The entire world seemed to take a sharp turn, throwing them to the side. There was a vibration and a pull, as if they and their surroundings were in motion. All evidence of safety shattered. And the white room encased them again. Half as large as it had been before. And it hadn’t exactly been *large* before. There was another motion… how there could be motion in his mind, he wasn’t sure… but it felt as if they were being thrown about in a vehicle, despite the room being stationary. He hit the wall with a sound that matched hitting the training mat. Amethyst eyes… fully functional, non-injured eyes in his mind, turned to look to Kherys again… and he breathed deep. Don’t get caught up. Don’t get distracted. Yael: ~ Back here again… ~ He was frustrated, but getting used to the almost frenetic changes. He could almost hold himself outside the alterations, watch them happen without investing emotionally. Almost. Harper: ~ ? Yael: ~ It’s okay. I’m starting to get used to it. I can get us back. ~ The apartment filtered back in where the walls were. Alora and Sheila and the strangers and the hybrid they’d followed, all organizing. Most of the people were faceless forms… they weren’t important. What mattered was what was happening. He breathed again, calm. Letting it come. Just let it come. The plan was hatched. They would either pretend to join Terra Prime… that didn’t seem feasible… the other option was to get captured on purpose. Yael: ~ It was a good plan, considering the options. It made sense. We needed to get closer to Malefic. Figure out what made him work. Gather intel. ~ He felt he knew all that in his bones, and the memory seemed crystalline in its purity. There was acceptance and acknowledgement, and a sense of dedication to the mission. Confidence in his team. But beneath it ran a steady current of doubt. The very natural doubt of a Human hybrid walking into a hybrid hating death trap. The scene shifted away from the apartment. They were in the streets of Miranda, being led to the soldiers by their hybrid ally. Or was she an enemy? Who really knew. The important thing was that the ruse was afoot. Soldiers hands searched, groping with a bit too much fervor in places he’d rather remain ungroped, and even though he knew it was just a recollection he still flinched. The people and faces and place fizzled with a scrapingly harsh fluctuation born of embarrassment… he didn’t want to see or feel that, or for Kherys to see or feel it, so the memory lurched before continuing. They were thrown into the prison transport, the light shutting out again… before they found themselves in the White Room again, smaller than ever. Alora and Sheila had been thrown in too, but disappeared as the diffuse light grew again. Ash pushed up from the floor onto his knees to lean on the wall, stopping as his mental visage threatened to bump into Kherys… there was barely enough space to move. Yael: ::with restrained frustration:: ~ I’m noticing a trend here. ~ Harper: ? Yael: ~ Something happened here. It wasn’t Malefic. It was *before* Malefic. ~ More bone-certain knowledge. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it. All the rest had been horrific, but he wasn’t hiding from the assault. From the gauntlet shattering his bones. From the taste of hybrid meat. Even from the certainty he’d walked into his own death. It was all gritty and real, and he could face the assortment of conflicting emotions resulting from it all. He had good friends. Loving family. A strong support structure. The time to heal, and good doctors to enable it. He was still processing it all, but he was *safe* now. It was going to be okay. DeVeau: ~TIME TO PUT THAT TO USE. ~ The distorted voice cut through him at a volume that would have burst his eardrums if he’d actually heard it in the physical world, and naturally his braced hands clapped up to cover his ears, flinching at the intensity. Harper: ~ ? His friends voices which had been a calm sea before began to echo the words at an impossible volume in a cacophony of overlapping clamor, with words they’d not ever said themselves. ~ PUT THAT TO USE ~ PUT THAT TO USE ~ YOU’VE BEEN TRAINING ~ TO USE ~ BEEN TRAIN- ~ PUT THAT TO ~ PUT THAT TO U- ~ BEEN TRAINING ~ PUT THAT TO USE ~ Then in one screaming unison, the voices merged. ~ GO FOR THEIR WEAPONS ~ The White Room shrank and crushed them, mental bodies powerfully smashed to one side and together… and the Denobulan hybrid, despite restraining it mentally, heard his own scream resonate behind the cavernous echoing mash of voices. It was all he could do, bodies crushing and hands clutching his not-real ridged ears, to recognize the sound not as one of fear, but of pure distraught. It was an animal sound free of sentience and soaked red in remorse. Harper: ~ ? *KCH-SNAP* The crunchy sound echoed last in his ears as his good eye snapped open. He was staring… with his one functional eye, panting for air and shocked at the mental displacement… up at the ceiling. His actual ceiling. All the screaming sounds were replaced with the deafening silence in his quarters. It was punctuated only by his heart strobing in his ears along with his labored breathing. There was a sharp, cold sweat on his skin. They hadn't gotten it. Harper: ? ~*~ Lieutenant JG Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0

Lost in translation...

Welcome to the fleet!

This gave me a chuckle. Visions in my head. LOL

((Ashalla District, Starbase 118)) Ferri Emlott was somewhat certain that Zorkal disliked her - and that although he really had no reason to do so. She could, she supposed, understand that the Ambassador was not too pleased with how she had inserted herself into his life, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. He had it a lot easier than she did, but Ferri was sure that he had done similarly morally grey things to be where he was now. Of course she would prefer being both liked and trusted, but she could just as well deal with both not being the case. She did appreciate her friendship with both Tito and Trovek Arys - both of them of course had no idea who she was, and what she was here for. They wouldn’t understand. The Federation, so Ferri found, had a very black and white approach to how they thought of matters such as loyalty. Things were very different on Cardassia. For example, she wouldn’t get invited to a dinner by someone who then said they wouldn’t be part of said event, but send a proxy. That didn’t make any sense at all, and Ferri had been close to declining the invitation. But part of her was curious about these alien customs. Once she had finished her work, the Cardassian made her way to the designated meeting area. Aine was lucky enough to get a few days to recover. The night out with Arys turned out to be a little more than she was expecting, not unwelcome however. Though hangovers didn’t exist for her, some time to decompress was nice. She’d decided to stay on 118 for a while longer. There was no reason not to and there wasn’t a need for her to rush back to 224. An invite from Arys for dinner, but more casual than their special night out. Thankfully this meant she could go in her normal flannel shirt and black leggings. No need to get fancy, not that she really did before. She liked this new friend. They seemed to think alike and have many similar values. Aine sat waiting at the location Arys had indicated to meet. It seemed her new friend was running a little behind, which on a starbase this size didn’t seem odd to her. Scanning some reports from the prior day on her holo-PADD, she was suddenly interrupted. Emlott: Excuse me. Are you Aine Sherlock? Sherlock: Yes, I’m Lieutenant Sherlock. The last thing Aine expected was a random Cardassian she’d never seen before to approach her knowing her name, of all things. Emlott: I am Ferri. She looked at Aine expectantly. Surely Arys had mentioned that she asked Ferri to come here. Or didn’t she? Ferri wasn’t quite sure yet how many of those human customs worked. She had never been a proxy before. Sherlock: It’s ::beat:: nice to meet you, Ferri. But ::beat:: I’m sorry, do we know each other? Emlott: ::tilting her head:: I am Arys’ proxy. She cannot attend your meeting. She sent me instead - is that disagreeable? Sherlock: Proxy? I’m uh… Emlott: I do not think we are obligated to ::looking for the right word:: proceed. I am unsure. Sherlock: I’m not sure either. And I don’t want you to be inconvenienced. Aine’s first thoughts were that something had happened to Arys, but reasonably, if she’d sent someone to meet her she was ok. She thought the situation through. She had nothing else to do so maybe a tour with the young woman before her was ok. Emlott: I came here. I think leaving again would be inconvenient. Sherlock: Well, I’m still not familiar with the station. But if you’ve got ideas, perhaps you could show me around? The Cardassian nodded, and motioned towards the bridge leading into the Coranum District. It lay adjacent to Ashalla District - the ‘Bajoran’ district - and had established as a sub-district not too long ago. Emlott: I would like to go there. I feel most comfortable there. ::pause:: Do you speak Cardassian? It would also make me feel most comfortable. Aine looked across the bridge towards the island in which was the Cardassian area. The cityscape looked grey and metallic. She had nothing against the Cardassian people despite being close to the Master Chief who served during the Dominion War and held strong opinions. She knew there was truth in the old maxim: My friend today, who is my enemy tomorrow, will be my friend again. And in this time, they were not enemies. But something about the city looked intimidating. But if she let everything that intimidated her stop her, she would be who she was now. Sherlock: ::looking from the city to Ferri:: I don’t speak Cardassian, unfortunately. Just Romulan and a “tiny” Klingon. But I would love for you to show me around. Ferri nodded, though she seemed a little disheartened at that. Emlott: We will make it work. As they crossed, the tall spires throughout grew taller and taller. And perhaps it was just a figment of Aine’s imagination, but it felt as though it was getting darker as well. Ferri did not seem to share that impression. On the contrary, she seemed to lighten up as they crossed the bridge. Perhaps she was feeling more comfortable in a surrounding that resembled home. Sherlock: Do you live in the district? Emlott: I do. I am not here long, but I like it here most. The road they were following seemed to lead into the centre of the District, or at least it was the impression Aine would get when looking ahead. Even from here she could see three large spires, clawlike structures that seemed to mark the heart of the Cardassian settlement. Sherlock: If I’m honest, it looks a little intimidating. I find that fascinating in a way. But, here I am in a Cardassian area, with a Cardassian I don’t know. ::with a look of mock curiosity on her face:: You’re not going to like, kill me or something are? The woman halted her steps and peered at Aine. Emlott: Are you an enemy of the state? If so, I might have to. Sherlock: I’m joking! I’m just joking. Trying to lighten the mood. Sorry, I’ve never been great at jokes. Emlott: ::with a small smirk:: Me neither. Aine hung her head, but with a smile. Another kindred spirit. Sherlock: That’s good to know. Emlott: Do you also serve on the Starbase? You said you are a Lieutenant. She continued walking, but despite having spent the past few weeks here, she moved slowly, allowing Aine to admire the window displays of clothes, baked goods, restaurants and similar. However, Aine noticed less and less the shops and buildings and the previously foreboding darkness for the small light that was leading her. Sherlock: I actually serve on a ship. The Excalibur. It’s stationed in the Borderlands, not far from here. Emlott: Oh. And why did you come here? Is your ship also here? Sherlock: I was just on the station for a conference. The young Cardassian thought about that for a moment, and then asked: Emlott: So you are important? Did you give the conference, or did you listen? What kind of conference? Aine took in a deep breath. It was almost as if she couldn’t escape the topic. But giving the young woman the benefit of the doubt, she would tell it once more. Sherlock: I spoke at it. The conference was about Security procedures in the fleet. I was asked to speak because I took part in a hostage rescue a few months ago. Actually led the team. Emlott: What kind of hostage situation? What did you do that was worthy of speaking at a conference? Sherlock: oO Got shot. Oo A doctor from our ship was taken hostage by Suliban terrorist on a research station. I lead a small team to get him back. The team was just made up of members of our away team. ::pause as she reflects on what went wrong:: Ultimately, we got him back. Emlott: Your family must be pleased. Aine’s eyebrows shot up, for that wasn’t the whole story and ma and da were hardly happy with her. Especially when she chose to stay in the fleet. Sherlock: Most definitely not. The woman furrowed her brows and tired her head. That did not make any sense to her. Why wouldn’t her family be proud of her? Emlott: Why? Sherlock: Well, there’s a little more to the story. So, like I said, the team was a part of our away team. The other officers weren’t Security nor trained for hostage rescue. So, the tactic I used was to place myself in the most danger and hope it was enough that most of them would survive and get the hostage. Unfortunately, I was shot and critically wounded. Emlott: You didn’t die. You took a risk and the risk was rewarded. It’s… hero-like. ::pause:: If you had a Cardassian family they would be pleased. Not so pleased had you died. But pleased because you did not. Sherlock: ::holding back a laugh:: I kind of look at it that way. The ends justified the means. No one died. Doctor was saved, who in turn saved me. Terrorist was arrested. But, my parents, besides being human, are also just worrisome. And to be fair to them, I haven’t always made the best choices. Emlott: I understand, I think. I think your current choice is good. You saved people and arrested terrorists. That seems good to me. What not the best choices have you made? Sherlock: That’s another story or two…or ten. Maybe I’ll save that for another time. But tell me about you. How’d you end up on the station? Ferri was disappointed that Aine wouldn’t tell her more. The younger woman likened Starfleet to the military, and on Cardassian, it was still a male domain. Perhaps she admired Aine a little - what she had done sounded very… hero-like. Emlott: I am here for work. I work for the Ambassador. Sherlock: Wow. That’s prestigious. Emlott: I… ::pause:: … write letters, sometimes. And I put files where they belong. It is not very exciting. Sherlock: Exciting isn’t always better. Trust me. I like to think I’m okay at what I do, but sometimes I wonder if it’d have been to become something like a scientist. Emlott: Science is good. But exciting is better. ::she smiled:: Would you family be more pleased with science? Sherlock: I think my parents would prefer I stayed home and farmed or fished. Emlott: I don’t quite understand human customs yet. It is very different to Cardassia. Sherlock: Sometimes, I don’t understand them. It was hard convincing my parents to support my choice to join Starfleet. I think we fought more the week I told them than we had for years before. You say Cardassia is different? How? I’m not too familiar with your customs. Emlott: Cardassia is not as rich on resources. It is important for us to strive upwards. Everyone has a place on Cardassia, and a function, but it is better to have a … better function. Is that understandable? Sherlock: I think I get it. Aine thought there was a slight undertone of classism in what she was describing. She learned about Cardassians a bit at the Academy, but much of the information has since passed in her mind. The term “better function” seemed to stick. She wondered about those who couldn’t and what became of them. Even thinking of Ferri in that moment, she was a clerk. Was she limited in function by the standards of Cardassia? Emlott: I have learned it was more so before the war. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Striving to uplift the family is important. Sherlock: There’s some families that are like that on Earth. For instance my ::beat:: ex-boyfriend. His family has a history of trade dating back almost six hundred years. He was expected to do the same. Instead, he joined Starfleet, and they were not happy. Emlott: Will he change his ways? Trade seems preferable. Sherlock: No, he doesn’t so much care what they think. I guess he just wants to be his own person. The last part felt like she was unintentionally instilling an insurgency of sorts in Ferri’s mind, which was not her intention. She wasn’t there to change others views, but to learn from them. Ferri considered those words. She was her own person. But she was also Cardassian. Even moreso tha she was her own person, perhaps. Emlott: Can I ask, how do you know Arys? Sherlock: We met ::beat:: oOAt a bar…Oo over lunch. Who do you know her? Ferri: I met her through a human I met here. He introduced us. Sherlock: oO And now you’re her proxy…interesting…Oo Interesting. Emlott: Can I ask, what do you know of her relationship to the Ambassador? Aine stopped walking, looking at Ferri as she stopped and turned towards her. This information was new to her. Little flashbacks of what she could remember of her talks with Arys flashed through her mind. And nothing about an Ambassador. Sherlock: ::looking around as if to make sure no one was in earshot:: I don’t know anything about that. I just know she was having some relationship issues. Is this Ambassador the same one you work for? Emlott: ::nodding:: Yes. I didn’t mean to imply a relationship. I spoke to Arys and she said he did not share any bond with Cardassia, but the Ambassador mention she was connected to him. I was curious why she wouldn’t disclose it. In particular because the Ambassador was putting so much effort into making a possible adoption as easy as possible. Sherlock: ::shrugging:: I don’t know. She was pretty vague on details when we spoke. Aine felt a little tinge in the back of her mind. Perhaps it was the training she’d been through at the Intel School, but something was up. She leaned in close, hoping to make it feel like they could trust one another. Sherlock: Do you think they’re hiding something? Emlott: I think perhaps they are close. Or were close. I am unsure. It’s not my place to speculate. Sherlock: I guess. ::tilting her head and raising her eyebrows:: Emlott: It would be a good match for her. But I think a lot of politics would be involved. Sherlock: I think this is where humans and Cardassians differ. I’m not sure I’d like complications like that in a relationship. Keep it simple, you know? Emlott: It’s different on Cardassia. Complications are common. Aine noticed the subtle deflections, though wasn’t sure if that was just common of Cardassia like so many other things. Ferri was a tough one to figure out. She decided to change track. Sherlock: So, what are your hopes and aspirations? I assume you don’t want to stay a clerk? She seemed to think about that. While hopes and aspirations were important, they were rarely openly discussed as such. In particular with strangers. And then, of course, there was the part where Ferri couldn’t answer genuinely without disclosing that she wasn’t just a clerk. And she couldn’t do that. She settled on something that was safe to say. Emlott: Is it not a good job for humans? To work in an Embassy? This time, Aine wasn’t sure if this was deflection, or cultural misunderstanding. She was beginning to see how Cardassians were all about Cardassia. Sherlock: It’s a fine job. There’s nothing wrong with it at all. I guess, we just differ. You see, we’re taught, humans, that a job isn’t always your aspiration. We’re taught to seek and desire. To grow and improve. Emlott: I am improved. My family had different work than I have now. I like what I do, for now. Of course that wasn’t true. Ferri knew what she wanted, and she knew that she had to be careful if she wanted to get it. But perhaps she could give her new human friend a little more. Emlott: I… think perhaps I can become an assistant. I would like that. Aine smiled when it seemed like Ferri might be learning something from her. Sherlock: I’m improved too. What does your family do? Emlott: My father is working as a… ::looking for the right word:: tutor. For children. In an educational institute. Sherlock: That seems noble. Mine is a farmer. And my mother’s a writer. I’m actually the first in my family, that I know of, that’s been a spacefarer. A brief memory surfaced. The Resolution and it’s encounter with a Q. There had been a moment when she had been transported to what appeared to be an alternate time. Aine was on the bridge of a dank old freighter, her father the Captain, and she an engineer in dirty coveralls. She still didn’t know what it meant, but there was a sneaking suspicion it meant she wasn’t actually the first. Emlott: My mother was a …. ::looking for the right word once more, and once more settling on:: tutor. But not for education. For children when their mother had much to do. Maybe it was a language barrier, but Aine wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Tutor just didn’t seem like the right word. Sherlock: She ::beat:: taught them chores? Emlott: She made food. And… sorted their clothes. It doesn’t sound like much but it was for a good family in a large house. An uncomfortable word crept into Aine’s mind: servant. This seemed like it would not be the best topic to continue prying into given the idea of classism that had been presented earlier. Sherlock: Ah, I see. Well, I think that’s a very noble thing to do. While walking and talking they eventually got a clear view on the very centre of Coranum. While the district, for the most part, was relatively flat, this part seemed to stand at a small incline, which made the three clawlike spires seem taller than they already were. Emlott: It’s a good place to view the district. From up there. Aine looked up at the tall spires with the artificial sky above them. An old impulse came over her. Sherlock: ::pointing to the top of the spires:: Can you climb those? Ferri’s features showed surprise. She looked at the spires, and for a moment she seemed at a loss for words. The reply, eventually, was an exasperated: Emlott: No. Sherlock: I don’t mean like you personally. But like, has anybody climbed them? Emlott: I… hope not. ::looking at Sherlock scoldingly:: It would be disgraceful. I don’t like that you suggest such a thing. ::shaking her head:: It’s vile. Sherlock: Vile? Emlott: ::insisting:: Vile. ::pause:: It’s a memorial. For those who died in Coranum on Cardassia. ::another pause:: You can’t say things like ‘climb them’. Sherlock: Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I…I didn’t know that it was a memorial. Aine looked away from Ferri. Her thrill seeking didn’t even allow her a moment to consider that something like spires would even be a memorial. Sherlock: I’m sorry. Emlott: ::still shaking her head:: It would be rude to climb it. Please do not climb it. Sherlock: ::snapping her head back to look at Ferri:: I won’t, I promise. Emlott: There are many memorials on Cardassia. The one I have visited most is in the University of the Union. It is for the students who defended it. It was… brave. And yet, futile. The older students had erected barricades to protect themselves, and the school. The younger students had been sent to hide. None of it had mattered, in the end. Sherlock: Did you attend there? Emlott: Yes, I studied there. I graduated with good grades. I think my mother would have been pleased. Sherlock: oOWould?Oo Does she not know you went there? Your mother? Ferri seemed surprised for a moment, but then remembered that, likely, the Federation did not care about what happened on Cardassia. Were Aine Cardassian, Ferri was sure she would easily determine her age, and what situation Cardassia was in when Ferri was born. Emlott: ::shaking her head:: No. After the war, Cardassia was… uh… it was difficult. For many years. Everything was broken. Perhaps she was prying too much? It was becoming clear to Aine that when Cardassian’s spoke, it was the implications of the words that was enough for them. Sherlock: I’m ::beat:: I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nosey or pry. Look, I just want to say… oOI don’t know what…Oo …I uh, really appreciate you spending time with me when you didn’t have to. And I’m enjoying our talk. I don’t want you to think ::beat:: I don’t know. How do you say in a Cardassian way that you’re trying to get to know someone better? Emlott: I also try to get to know you better. I am.. not used to people not knowing. It’s more present in Cardassia. But I am not disturbed by your question. Sherlock: ::smiling and nodding:: Good. Thank you. Ferri smiled carefully, then motioned towards the spires. Now that they had arrived in the platform, Aine could see a single, large building with a pond in front of it, and surrounded by what perhaps was the Cardassian version of a park. There was no grass, but beds of exotic flowers, each of them perfectly and purposefully planted. Emlott: This is the Embassy. It’s also for, uh, legal matters. Such as registration of a family unit. Sherlock: By registration, do you mean marriages? Emlott: Yes. There are celebration but the registration is what matters. Because it’s official. Sherlock: I notice that Cardassian’s use a lot of grey in their architecture. But, the flowers, they’re very bright. They almost seem out of place. Do they have meaning to you as well? Emlott: ::thinking about this for a moment:: It’s a symbol for wealth. Because flowers need water, and water can be sparse. It’s… art? It’s difficult to.. uh, create flowers like these. Sherlock: I assume there’s no touching either? I’m kidding again…just in case. Aine smiled, hoping the joke stuck this time. If it did, it’d be the first time in years. Ferri smiled carefully. She hoped it was a joke. There was no touching the flowers, of course. She lowered her voice. Emlott: Sometimes I touch the fish. In the pond. A sly grin formed on Aine’s face. She heard loud and clear what water meant to them. Sherlock: ::raising an eyebrow:: That sounds a little dangerous. ::leaning in a whispering:: Any other dangerous secrets I should know about? Emlott: It’s not dangerous… ::frown:: And I just do it sometimes. ::pause:: It’s not *forbidden*. Sherlock: It’s ok, any secrets are safe with me. ::giving her a wink:: The younger woman blushed, something that due to the texture and color of her skin was barely visible, but noticeable. She nodded, giving a half-hearted shrug, and quickly turned around, desperate for something to point out, and distract the human with. Emlott: Do you want to see the fish? They are called Kûpi. Sherlock: I would love too. The pair approached the pond and Aine knelt near the edge. Peering in she could see a black fish with a slight gold tint coming from its scale. Flecks of orange and white. Long tentacles coming from the sides of its mouth reminded her of the Terran catfish, or an old man. Sherlock: ::smiling at the memory of catching Blackfish back home:: We have some similar fish on Earth. Emlott: ::almost offended:: But those are Cardassian. Sherlock: They’re quite tasty. Emlott: ::definitely offended:: That’s… horrible. Those are for decorative purposes. We predominantly eat the ugly fish. Sherlock: ::smiling deviously:: I know. I figured that since they were in a pond. Ours, I used to catch them in the open sea. And they’re quite ugly too. Aine found a certain fun now in poking the Cardassian and wondered how many times she could get away with it. Ferri knelt down at the edge of the pond, carefully poking her finger into the water. The Kûpi, it seemed, were either used to that, or thought the slender digit was a particularly odd worm. Either way, it quickly attracted two larger specimen. Emlott: They don’t have teeth. Aine watched as the woman carefully slipped her finger into the pond. A glint from her eyes showed just how much she was enjoying this small insurgency. Have just learned how much symbolism meant to Cardassians, how much class meant, there was something in this action that Aine admired. A small sense of self within Ferri. That small spark in a timeline that starts a fire and could burn an empire to ashes. Sherlock: Only predators have teeth. Aine gave Ferri another smile, but a softer one. Ferri withdrew her hand, trying to hide a smile. Looking at the fish made her happy. Touching the fish was even better. One day, she had decided, she would own an aquarium full of the most beautiful fish on Cardassia. Emlott: I would like to show you the memorial. So you know why not to climb it. Sherlock: I would love to see. I’m enjoying today very much and want to see more. The Cardassian nodded and led the way towards one of the pillars. The platform was large, and they walked for a good few minutes in which Ferri seemed to be eager to explain more about the flowers and the way the grounds of the Embassy were organized. Eventually arriving at the spires, Aine could easily see that they were more than a more or less aesthetic structure. They seemed to be made from obsidian rock, shot through with gold that glistened in the artificial sun. Countless of Cardassian names were inscribed in the spires, each angle from which one could observe them, displaying a new set of names. Hundreds of thousands of names. Sherlock: Who were they? Emlott: They were killed when the Jem’Hadar attacked. Those were the citizens at the time registered in Coranum, on Cardassia Prime. The closest thing that Aine had ever seen was on a school field trip. A memorial wall to those Federation citizens lost during the Dominion War. She remember that it seemed as though it stretch from horizon to horizon, in reality it did not and it was just the overwhelming sense of size. She looked up to the top of the spires, the light from the artificial environment drowned out the tops as if that was their horizon. Sherlock: It’s quite touching. I can see why it upset you when I asked what I did earlier. Ferri nodded. She hadn’t been born when the Dominion turned against Cardassia, but she had heard many tales about it. Emlott: Thank you. Those things are important to us. They…. Belong to the identity we are. Sherlock: I understand. We have similar displays. They’re important to us too. They remind us of the struggles we’ve been through and those we lost. There was a sudden feeling deep inside, akin to grief. Part of this was unspoken so far. Here, Aine stood, learning from a Cardassian about their losses. She’d learned about their own. All from a time when a human and a Cardassian couldn’t stand in the same room together. They both were born after it all happened, so it wasn’t a part of their individual histories, but it was a part of their identities as children of a culture. Again, the words came to mind: My friend today, who is my enemy tomorrow, will be my friend again. [End Scene] ***************** Ferri Emlott Cardassian Visitor Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4 And Lieutenant Aine Sherlock Chief of Security USS Excalibur NCC-41903-A R239712AS0

At least you know where you stand.

Why yes. Yes it is.

Personal Log, Ensign Basilia… that is going to take some getting used to. To say that the past two days have been emotional would be an understatement. Yesterday was my graduation ceremony, the culmination of the past four years. It was one of the few times when the entire class had been all together, and with the addition of parents, guardians, friends and family, the auditorium was packed. Even my parents had made the trip to watch my graduation. It took all my willpower to keep my composure as I received my new pip and seeing how proud my parents looked. After the ceremony was completed my mother treated us to lunch where I had a lovely catch up with them. Sadly they were not able to stay overnight and so fighting back tears we said our goodbyes as they boarded a shuttle. This goodbye was harder than when I departed for the academy, as I don’t know when I shall see them next. I spent the rest of the evening packing my belongings, ready for my departure today. It is strange, seeing everything you own, your entire life essentially, packed into a single bag. Isabelle cast her eyes around the room, giving one final check to ensure that she had packed everything, not that she had much to pack. She had lived a relatively spartan life during her time at the academy which had made packing a swift affair. As she stepped out of the room that had been her home for the past year, Isabelle let out a faint sigh. It had not always been easy and at times she had considered giving in, but she had finally made it. She had graduated from the academy and was now an Ensign within Starfleet. Her orders had come through early yesterday, informing her that she was being assigned to the USS Thor, a Vesta class starship, that was soon to depart for the Delta Quadrant, under the command of Commodore Aron Kells. That was about as much as she knew about her new posting, at least for the moment, and Isabelle was planning on reading up as much as she could about both the Thor and the Delta Quadrant during her transit. Isabelle reached down and wrapped her fingers around the handle of her duffel bag. Isabelle was almost trampled by another graduate as she stepped out into the hall. The Bolian woman offered a passing apology as she continued along the corridor. The majority of Isabelle’s graduation class were departing the academy today resulting in a lot of frantic activity on campus. Those students that remained would have a few days reprieve before a new class started and the chaos began again. She made her way through campus to the hangar where she would begin the first part of her journey to her new assignment. The hanger was a hive of activity with at least a half a dozen shuttles positioned along the walls, with newly graduated ensigns waiting to climb the steps to their transports. Isabelle scanned the room, searching for her shuttle and hurried towards the aft of the hanger as she spotted it. After showing her pass to the attendant Isabelle climbed the steps to the waiting shuttle. Isabelle stowed her bag and walked through the type-11 shuttle. There were only a handful of passengers and Isabelle offered a brief smile as she passed them before taking an empty seat towards the rear of the shuttle. She had just settled into the seat when the deck began to vibrate, no doubt the engines being powered up, and she felt a subtle shift as the shuttle lifted off and glided out of the hangar. A few minutes later the shuttle jerked forward, pushing Isabelle into her seat. Although there was a lack of windows, Isabelle could tell that they had now left Earth’s atmosphere and were heading towards a point where they would go to warp. Isabelle turned her attention to her book. As she flipped open the worn cover she was reminded of the day her mother brought her the book. The book held many memories with Isabelle. Her mother had read this same book over and over to her daughter until she could speak to her in its words and she had memorised each word, every sentence, each line of text. Her mother had taken pride in her daughter’s ability and patience. She had been the one to teach Isabelle about the Federation. The journey to the Thor had been uneventful, with Isabelle taking the opportunity to study as much about her new assignment as she could. The Thor was an impressive ship with an equally impressive record and Isabelle was relieved to have been assigned to such a ship as her first assignment. The Delta Quadrant in particular was an interesting area of space, that even now they still knew little about. Isabelle moved seats and was now afforded a view of the Thor through the [...]pit windows as they approached. The pilot did a flyby of the Thor, allowing Isabelle the opportunity to take a good look at her new home. The Thor loomed overhead, casting a shadow over the shuttle as they approached the shuttlebay. There was a gentle thud as the shuttle touched down. Isabelle rose from her seat and smoothed down the front of her uniform, wanting to look presentable for her first impression on the Thor. She thanked the pilot who was in the process of finalising their checks, before grabbing her bag and stepping off the shuttle. She took a moment once she was on the deck of the Thor to look around at her new home. The shuttlebay was much quieter than the hangar she had departed, with a couple of crew working on a nearby shuttle. Isabelle glanced at her PADD which listed her orders and temporary room assignment. Tucking her PADD under her arm, Isabelle turned her attention to the doors to her right which led to the corridor outside of shuttlebay. Isabelle paused momentarily as she watched a young Ensign step out of a nearby shuttle. The Ensign was carrying a large metallic box, which he placed on the ground beside him. Isabelle watched as the ensign pulled out a small device and pressed a button on it, before making their own way out of the shuttlebay. Isabelle quickly followed the Ensign and entered the corridor, pausing for a second as she looked about the area. The hallway was quiet with only the occasional sounds of boots against the hard surface accompanying the silence. The corridor stretched ahead of her before ending with a set of double doors - a turbolift. Isabelle nodded her head at the young Ensign who stood slightly to her right and pushed the call button. Soon enough a door slid open revealing a lift, with the pair boarding the lift. Isabelle stared as the doors closed. A moment later the turbolift whirred to life, zipping through the interior of the Thor. When the turbolift came to a stop, it opened on a different level, Isabelle exited and headed out in the opposite direction she came in the lift. Isabelle passed a number of doors that read the names of various departments or personnel within. After what felt like an eternity of turning corners and making a number of turns Isabelle upon what she presumed was her quarters for the foreseeable future, at least. She checked the PADD once again to confirm. Basilia: Well I guess this is home. Isabelle pressed the chime, the doors to her new quarters sliding aside a moment later. Being a junior officer, a newly assigned fresh-faced Ensign at that, Isabelle had shared quarters, something that she was used to from her time at the academy. Isabelle stepped further inside, surveying her surroundings. The main room contained two sofas with a coffee table between them, a replicator on the far wall and two doors leading to the individual rooms. Although comfortable enough it lacked a certain flair, and could certainly use some more decor. She headed over to her room assignment, finding a rather spartan room, consisting of a bed, wardrobe, a small desk and a private bathroom. Basilia: It will do for now. She flung her bag onto the bed and took up a seat next to it, allowing herself to fall backwards with a dull thud. She lay there in quiet contemplation for a few moments, wondering what life on the Thor held in store. Finally, she sat upright, rubbed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Basilia: Better unpack I guess. With that said she unzipped her duffle bag and began unpacking her belongings. The civilian clothes she had brought with her, a couple of uniforms that he would be wearing for the duration of her time aboard the Thor went into the wardrobe. Then there were the few personal items that she laid out on the desk, which he would sort out later, along with a small collection of books. Eventually, she finished and leaned back on the edge of the bed, watching the stars shine through the small window behind the desk. Basilia: Home, sweet home. Ensign Isabelle Basilia Security Officer USS Thor T239812IB4

((Starbase 118 Ops - Y’zyr’s Half of His Shared Quarters)) The cybernetic Trill had accomplished a genuine feat this time. It was a bragworthy event! He’d cleaned his room. Well… he’d picked up and processed his dirty clothes. There were still little mechanical bits and bobs everywhere. But he was done with his latest project! It sat atop the tabletop near the door, waiting on him to finish the final details. The vital last touch required. All the mechanical bits were finished, the programming was done too. Now, he sat leaning back into a deep chair, one leg crossed over the other, cybernetic foot absent mindedly bobbing in the air as his fingers worked. The object atop the table tapped a single leg impatiently as he hooked another loople and sent the rabbit through the cave. Or… whatever that move was when you used the hooked needle to do a bobby loop catch thing with the fabric stuff. Yes, the cybernetic feat of bio-engineering was crocheting. Meanwhile, the slightly-larger-than-hand-sized mechanical spider he’d built tapped a clawed foot impatiently atop the table. Geoff: You couldn’t finish that *before* you turned me on? Y’zyr: Relax, spider-bro. I’m almost done. Geoff: *SIGHS LOUDLY* I’m not “Spider Bro.” I’m Geoff. You just named me seventeen minutes ago. Black and gold eyes flicked up to the spider, still tapping a single out of eight mechanical legs on the tabletop. Did he really program this one to be so… salty? Y’zyr: I’m sorry. My bad. Geoff: Why would you name a mechanical spider “Geoff,” anyway? Y’zyr: Geoff’s a good name! Geoff: Yeah. Sure. It was good. ::pausing:: In the *fifties.* An eyebrow rose, and the Trill chuckled behind his mask. He *liked* this one. He was looping and securing an end doohickey, not knowing any of the *names* for what he was doing, but having the muscle memory to do them, when the doorway to the dual shared quarters opened and his roommate walked in. Now, his roommate was a good natured sort. Didn’t make waves. Worked as a medic, was overly diligent, was *tidy* as all heck. Classic Fleet brainiac material. The Bajoran stopped inside the door when he noted motion to his right, on the tabletop. Apparently did *not* like giant spiders. Geoff didn’t help things by leaping at his face with an excited trilling sound. The scream that escaped the Bajoran was one of sheer terror as he tried to claw the giant mechanical spider off his face, falling to the side and to the floor. Geoff cackled… actually CACKLED… as he leapt off the poor guys face and out the door, flying down the side of the wall of the corridor with his eight adorable little grippy claws. The Trill was out of his seat, dropping the eight legged crocheted spider pajamas he’d been finishing and, with a glance to see his shocked roommate was okay, headed out the door. Y’zyr: Sorry, Bartok! GEOFF, get BACK here!! He happened to hear Bartok breathlessly cursing as the door slid shut and he ran down the corridor, following closely behind the multi-eyed mechanical beast who had escaped, seemingly, for the sheer thrill of it. Shoot… a person… another Bajoran, with long black hair. Ozai sped up, the warning indicator at the lower left of his vision going yellow for alarm as he picked up speed somewhat loudly. He could hear more cackling as Geoff aimed for the persons face, and leapt from the wall where he’d speed-crawled prior. Except Ozai jumped forward at a running leap just before, power shooting through his legs and sending him into a controlled, powerful leap somewhat longer than he would naturally be able to do without his cybernetic parts… and just as he landed with quite the loud impact sound, sliding somewhat closer to the person, he clutched his own mechanical fingers around Geoff’s body just before the apparently EVIL spider flew into the Bajoran woman's face, all eight little legs scrabbling in the open air before he pulled them away from said persons face. Geoff: ::in his mechanical voice:: NOOOOO! I was so close!! Y’zyr: ::sharply:: You absolutely *cannot* run around face grabbing people… ::then, less sharply::... without consent. The spiders round little eyes turned on its head, little mechanical mandibles closing and opening as he looked at and spoke to the Bajoran woman. Geoff: Can I please grab your face? Trovek: ? Y’zyr: I’m sorry. I apparently neglected to program any *manners* into him. ::then to Geoff:: Gunna have to download some *civility* into you. He looked at Geoff sharply, and the mechanical legs sagged at being chastised. Geoff: ::sounding quite sad:: Aww… Now that he’d gotten his thrills out, Ozai opened his palm, letting Geoff stand in it and walk up his arm some ways for stability. Then he held Geoff out toward the person at a polite, non-face grabbing distance. Y’zyr: What do we say to the nice lady…? Geoff: ::drawing it out like a child might when embarrassed:: Iiiii’m soooooorry. Y’zyr: What for? A dramatic sigh escaped the robot, and if a mechanical spider could roll its multiple eyes, this one did now. Geoff: For trying to grab your face without asking first. Trovek: ? Finally, Ozai actually *looked* at who had nearly been face-grabbed, realizing he knew this face from somewhere. He smiled at her through his mask, making his eyes smile, as if this type of thing was completely normal. Y’zyr: We’ve met, right? ::recognition hitting him:: Oh, I remember! The Rahuba, right? You showed up after the people exploded. While he spoke, Geoff grumbled with annoyance and crawled up the Trills arm to sit on his shoulder, then ran a leg through his mandibles, as if he were cleaning it. Trovek: ? ~*~ Ensign Ozai Y’zyr Tactical & Security Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0

((V’luna’s quarters, Starbase 118)) The room was dimly lit, and the pillow Neeya was sitting on made her position just comfortable enough to give her an excuse to be distracted. *Breathe in peace. Breathe out emotion. Allow your thoughts to settle into silence.* On the table in front of her sat a small, fuel-powered lamp. The mediation lamp in itself was perfectly balanced and harmonious in color, and it kept it’s flame steady and controlled. *Inhale. Exhale.* Neeya found that V’luna’s voice was softer than usual, even though the Vulcan had never been harsh in her words. *The flame flickers as air currents brush past it. Your thoughts flicker as emotions come and go.* Emotions. They were a difficult thing for Neeya to handle. That had been evident by the initial reaction she had to V’luna’s suggestion to join her for meditation. She wouldn’t admit it, but secretly she was relieved that the older woman was patient with her. *Inhale. Exhale.* Despite having been back on the Starbase for only a few weeks, she already had a list of people to apologise to. And those were just the people she had openly agitated. If she were to apologise for every unkind thought, she’d be busy for the rest of the year. *Watch the flame dance, and let its movement still your soul.* So why did V’luna care? The woman had been Neeya’s teacher, but she had been teacher to plenty of cadets, a lot of them brighter and more pleasant to deal with than the young trill. *Inhale. Exhale.* Perhaps it was because of Dekim, the symbionts previous host. He had been one of her students, for a while. He had been bright and charming, and begun a stellar career within Starfleet. And then he had joined the Maquis. *The lamp is control. Without control, the fire would spread and destroy everything. Without control, emotion is overwhelming and destructive.* The reason was something Neeya didn’t quite understand yet, but she knew that she would keep it a secret. *Inhale. Exhale.* It was his disappointment with Starfleet that spilled over into her consciousness, that made her assume the worst, and that filled her with anger which lead to her outbursts. *With control, the flame provides light and warmth. Without the fuel the lamp provides, the fire would die. Control is life. Without control, emotion bleeds away your life.* She wondered if the Symbiosis Commission had known about Dekim’s true feelings. When the Dominion War had started and the former Maquis were offered a return to Starfleet, he had taken it. He had, seemingly, made peace with what had caused his malcontent, and lived a full life within the rules. *Inhale. Exhale.* Officially. *What is, is. You cannot change the nature of existence. Accept what is now and change what can be changed in the future.* Would they have joined here with the Velix-symbiont had they known? Or would they have given it so someone else? *Inhale. Exhale.* Perhaps they did know. Perhaps they had decided that Neeya, with a calm and gentle demeanour, was a good candidate to offset Dekim’s lasting influence. *The lamp is control. Meditation is control. Let your meditation control your emotion as the lamp controls the flame. Let your breathing slow. Follow the rhythm of the flickering fire.* If so, it was just proof that the system was wrong. That there was something fundamentally wrong with how things worked. *Inhale. Exhale* Like a cage one needed to escape out of. *Inhale peace. Exhale emotion.* [End Scene] ***************** Ensign Neeya Velix Science Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4

I really liked this narration here. Gave me a good sense of the character and what he's feeling.

Maybe Richards should be in PR. 😄

I found this hilarious. It *is* something to be proud of!