Alora DeVeau

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.

Hey! Now wait a darn minute!!!!

Don't die.

I can SO envision this because I've done this! 😄

An updated version of the Marines' hymn from our very own IC and OOC Marine, Wes Greaves!

Babydog? *dies laughing*

It's all technobabble to me!

Starfleet Matchmaking Services is a thing.

Oh thank goodness. 😄 Of course, smelling better than the last ride isn't hard to do. 😄

Show of hands for all in favour of the Klingon way.

Dude, you need to get your priorities straight. Singing fuzz TOTALLY takes precedence.

Behold the power of cheese!

Ops' theme this year is "Stick Figures". Inspiration was taken from the stick figures of "Order of the Stick" webcomic. I confirm that all the instructions for uploading and labeling the avatars was completed exactly as instructed.