Alora DeVeau

Probably, but I'm not sure even a Klingon is gonna say a thing to a 7+ foot tall Gorn with large teeth.

The answer to that question is "NO".

Watch out, this might become a Thing(tm).

OOC: I got a chuckle out of this. Julien seems like a hoot. IC: ((Dunamis' Quarters, Habitat Ring, Starbase 118)) // To: Ensign Dunamis From: Ensign Julien Lockehart Dear Duney, Heard of your new assignment! Congratulations, by the way. I hear that 118 is a hot place to be right now. You’ve read the reports of their latest mission probably, of course you have, studious bloke, you. You’ve always been. Saving prisoners on Qo’nos while fighting off cultists! Wow. I only wish I had that kind of assignment. Here on the Victoria nothing much happens, we’re stuck on routine DMZ patrol. Oh, well. What can you do, am I right? Captain Kell is a nice guy though which is a bonus. We should meet and catch up sometime, eh? Just the two of us like old times, talking like old friends while you insisted on poring over our textbooks two months in advance for that class test. Just relax, okay? You don’t need to keep on working yourself raw. There’s more to life than your career and you deserve a little space to explore all aspects of it. Including the more fun ones. 😉 Ah ha, you know what I mean. Get back to me when you’ve made up your mind on it, okay? See you, handsome. Don’t keep me waiting with that response. Regards, Jules // Julien Lockehart. He hadn't seen that name in years. The name brought to mind a shortish, blond-haired bespectacled human male who'd been a schoolmate of his four years ago now, and with that recollection came a familiar tale - one that admittedly still embarrassed him to no end to tell. He still remembered how it'd gone down: ((Flashback - Time Index: 3 years ago)) ((Event Hall, Starfleet Academy - Earth campus)) Dune was not a party person. He never had been. Call it a remnant of a childhood growing up as the sole Kelpien child in a class of humanoid children. Too many people around at any one time made him nervous, in fact, a feeling he masked with apparent stoicism. Yet here he was, an hour into the prom, neatly dressed in a light pink dress shirt, tie, suit, pants and even shoes to match, spindly fingers clutching a glass of champagne. Being as slim as a twig sometimes has its perks and this particular time was one of them; he looked absolutely stunning. At the current moment his attention was oh so mercifully occupied by his Klingon best friend, though: Qltlha: Duney, please, for the love of Kahless, let those shoulders of yours relax for once in your life! You have earned the right to party the night away, more than any of us with that lofty degree of yours! Dune: ::sighing:: Qltlha, you know me and my work ethic. I do not normally fully relax. Not when there is more to be done for the morrow. I leave for starbase 23 in the afternoon and my packing is still unfinished. The shuttle leaves at 1300 hours- Qltlha: For the starbase and starship, the latter of which which will only be there next week! Dunamis! You are being ridiculous! I know you favor punctuality and preparedness but that extent of it is too much! ::sighing in exasperation:: You will harm yourself one day with that attitude, my friend, if you do not keep it under control. ::squints, looks over his shoulder and snickers:: Oh, Kahless' blade. There's Julien now! Julien? He'd been told by the human that he'd show with a surprise in store, of course - but not quite the sight that he got as soon as he turned his head. Oh, goodness gracious, that was surely the laciest garish red dress he'd ever seen. Somehow or other it flattered the human male's figure perfectly, along with the blush, lipstick, eyeliner and fake brows and the ridiculous black wig with utterly mismatched bangs - among other features, of course. When Julien had mentioned a surprise the first thing in the Kelpien's mind admittedly had not been to appear at the prom in full drag. Oh, he knew that the human had been head over heels for him ever since they'd met at orientation of course, but this was absolutely flooring each and every (failed) attempt at courtship so far. Strangely? Amidst the silliness of the whole situation Dune found himself thinking that the human actually looked attractive in that getup. Oblivious (or perhaps totally ignorant of) the looks and catcalls and kisses blown his way Julien sashayed his way towards the pair and struck a pose, fingers in a V and all. Lockehart: How do I look? Duuuuuney? ::batting his eyelashes at the Kelpien:: Dunamis: ::choking a little:: Julien. Goodness gracious. Why are you dressed like that? Qltlha: ::smirking:: It was my idea. He wished to make a last impression on you and hopefully earn your arm for the night! Come on, Duney, won't you be a good friend and indulge him? One night? Lockehart: I wore red just for you~ ::giggling:: It's your favorite color isn't it? You look spectacular, by the way. Is that blazer of yours custom made? It fits so snugly- ::places both hands on the arm of the suit:: Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Yes, he could handle flirtation well enough, but in this situation, where he couldn't quite decide what his mind thought of the whole thing his friends' words were becoming quite uncomfortable - and so he took the only other option he could think of. Dune: Um. ::gently brushing Lockehart's hand off:: Excuse me for a moment... And off he went through the crowd in the direction of the toilets, ignoring shouts of "don't keep me waitiiiiing~" behind him. You'd think that for a people so tall and skinny they'd be hard to lose - ha, not really. Blushy, uncomposed Dune was gone in the crowd in seconds even when not running. ((End flashback)) Ensign Dunamis Tactical Officer Starbase 118 - USS Narendra 0239706DM0

@Sheila Bailey writes beautifully and I just love the sweetness of this ending! ((Virixis VI - Beachside)) DeVeau: Unfortunately, we got called back to duty really suddenly and I was so intent on getting to my station as soon as possible, I forgot to take my squirrel costume on. Sheila’s gaze turned longing for a moment as she remembered her friend. It was this particular friend, a joined Trill, that had had a performer as one of her past hosts. She had still been able to carry on the skills of singing, ballet, and acting, though she most often danced. And this particular friend had often invited her to performances, in which she carried a starring role, in Sleeping Beauty, Romeo and Juliet, and Jewels, among many other ballets. Yet since their graduation the two friends had hardly spoken to each other. Thankfully the good memories lasted and were seemingly enough to fill the empty void. Yet Sheila was reminded of her sisters too. Her younger sister, Margaret Anne, had often written plays and stories when she was younger. Oftentimes she had been able to coerce their older sister Cathleen into playing some of the other roles; Sheila never did like to perform in those plays and stories yet she had been willing on more than one occasion to paint the sets. One time however, in the course of a play rehearsal, the scene had had both Margaret and Cathleen running in the yard and up a tree. Cathleen had tried climbing but slipped and tore her skirt and her knee. Since then Sheila was fairly sure her older sister had stuck to wearing pants. It seemed like the only situation in her personal experience that was in any way similar to the one which Alora was describing. Bailey: ::Holding back a laugh:: What a sight. I can imagine your commanding officer being angry at that, though I guess it depends on the seriousness of the event which called you back to duty. Clothing hardly limits one's ability to perform their job. Even if one was wearing a ball gown, improvisations could be made. And in the right attire swords could be slipped down the backs of dresses, or strapped to the thigh. If not, the dress’s skirt could be tied up around the waist of the wearer to allow for easier movement. With this in mind it certainly seemed that a squirrel costume was comfortable as well as easy to move in, likely made of a soft material used for pajamas. Definitely not the sort of thing to go get mad about. Disappointed maybe, and some might even laugh about it too. Sheila might have laughed if she had seen the incident in person. Now however she worked to hold in her laughter and simply listen, that was the polite response to make. DeVeau: Commander Ross wasn’t happy. Didn’t yell at me, but he didn’t need to. I literally was so focused on getting to my station I didn’t even think about my costume not being the proper attire. Sheila was intent on listening carefully to Alora’s story. Asking leading questions and showing her interest and respect. Though it did make her wonder. Perhaps Sheila and Alora could combine their talents and set up a performance sometime for the crew. A light hearted performance. Sheila knew that she herself could use a spot humor after the several tough missions that she had gone through. Perhaps too could she find her way back to the sarcastic, witty woman she had once been. For Alora it could be a change to redeem herself, in a way. To finish out the play and get back to her station in her proper attire. Bailey: That seems completely understandable. DeVeau: What about you? I know you sing and have a pretty voice! Bailey: Oh myself? I’ve not been in any performances, plays I mean. I have been told however that I would be great for singing at a wedding. DeVeau: I know. I remember you sang part of an Elaysian lullabye when I brought you that violet. Like I said, you have a lovely voice. You could easily perform. What about other types of performances? Bailey: And the dancing? Nothing like what my friend did. She was all into ballet. But Elaysia has a great many traditional dances. Jigs and the like. Perhaps I could get a holoprogram of them together for you sometime. I would demonstrate myself but I’m not in the condition for it yet. DeVeau: I would love to see you dance. Maybe on the holodeck? I’m sure we can program the gravity to make it lower so you could perform it properly. Oh why hadn’t Sheila thought of it in that way? At first she had thought she would only be able to get a holographic performance set up, one in which she wouldn’t be able to take part in. Yet Alora’s comment reminded her of her last holodeck experience with an old friend. Those machines certainly could be programmed to fit anyone’s personal needs. Bailey: Sure, just comm me sometime and I’ll get something set up. Oh and speaking of performances it would seem that one would need a headshot for auditions and the like. ::At this Sheila went shuffling through her stack of papers looking for one in particular. Once she found the one she was looking for she handed it over to the other woman:: Here. Alora took a minute, not glancing at the handed over drawing quite yet, a look of surprise forming on her face. Sheila gave Alora a small smile in return, her sense of curiosity growing. DeVeau: What’s this? Sheila handed over another pencil portrait; the original copy, a second copy having been left in her own quarters back on the station. This one however unlike the others was not of some fanciful woman. It showed simply a woman with long dark hair, a round slim face, and sharp collar bones. The composition was of Alora. Sheila had managed to find time to get around to composing it, sometime between last shore leave and then start of this one. Their last conversation together had sparked it and Sheila did well to keep her promises. Bailey: I finally got around to drawing it, after we last talked. I want you to have the original copy. Hope you like it. DeVeau: I do! It’s lovely! ::Alora took a moment to look at the drawing:: I’m amazed at your talent. Bailey: Thank you. It’s nice to be drawing again, to be making it my own. DeVeau: I’m going to have this framed. Do you think people will think I’m too self absorbed if I hang it on my wall? Bailey: I believe not. I have several drawings, like this one, of myself and my sisters hanging on the walls of my own quarters Sheila widened her smile. Alora certainly seemed to appreciate the talent she showed. Such appreciation lifted her spirits. DeVeau: I think I’m going to take this back to my cabin right now and package it up. I don’t want it to get damaged. Bailey: I’m glad you don’t. Best to keep it away from the waves. And if you frame it it’s less likely to smudge the graphite. ::Slight pause:: I’ve enjoyed your company. DeVeau: ::Smiling:: Thank you Sheila. I’ll see you later, but I’m glad to have this as a reminder of you. Sheila watched as Alora rose from her chair and turned to place a gentle hand upon her shoulder. After a slight pause the other woman moved off carefully taking the treasured drawing with her. Sheila watched her go, even considered waving as Alora disappeared out of sight, yet thought better of it. Once out of sight Sheila turned back to her art supplies, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper. Before long a graphite drawing was starting to form, one that was beginning to show two women standing side by side. By the time the drawing was finished it was clearly a composition showing Alora and Sheila, the water in the background, their arms around each other in a side hug, almost as if they were posing for the artist to be able to draw them. [End Scene] Lieutenant Sheila Bailey Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0 "The very first requirement in a hospital is that it should do the sick no harm." - Florence Nightingale

One of our officers introduced a new character, and I really enjoyed getting to know him a little bit. I look forward to seeing what he does with Dune! IC: ((Verriar’s Tongo Palace, Starbase 118)) How out of place he must have looked: six feet and eight and a half inches of lank in uniform, clutching a tiny glass cup that seemed like a little fruit wrapped in branches in relation to his long, thin fingers. Large golden eyes stared intently down at the spinning tongo wheel about a foot in front of him, round which many gathered to hedge their bets. Dunamis was not a gambler. He never had been – except in chess where one would sometimes strategically gamble away their pieces in the hopes of victory. He didn’t like tongo. It was far too reliant on luck and chance and not enough on the skill of the player. But hey, maybe that was chess player him speaking, eh? Admittedly when the others had extended him invitation to meet at the commercial sector for a men’s night out he hadn’t expected to have to walk all the way down decks to this bar he found far too dark and far too… vicelike. He’d drank what he’d been recommended, of course, it was only polite – and been complimented by the many-armed hostess for it – which admittedly still didn’t sit well in his belly. No, really. And the aftertaste was far too chemical-like for his tastes. But hey, one sometimes made compromises for connections did they not? Dunamis: ::glancing upwards at Isaiah and rubbing his eyes:: Remind me how many rounds it has been, again? My vision has begun to swim. Andrews/Yael: ? Dunamis: Ah. I see. Not at all, actually. I think the wheel has spun so many times I’ve lost count. Andrews/Yael: ? Right then a waitress walked up to him. Waitress: What can I get you, tall, stoic and handsome? Dunamis: ::directed at the attending waitress:: One iced lemon tea, please? He watched her nod and walk off, following which golden eyes flickered over the little circle of drinks set before the group on the table. Most, if not all of them were alcoholic. The chemical-y scent stung at his sensitive nose. He’d never understood why the human idea of a ‘men’s night out’ was casual gambling, alcohol and/or bars or any other variant on the same. Was the idea of appearing at work hung over the following morning not enough to dissuade them? Not that he was going to complain, of course. Dunamis: How long have you both been patronizing this establishment? ::gratefully accepting the cup of tea he was given:: Andrews/Yael: ? Ensign Dunamis Tactical Officer Starbase 118 - USS Narendra O239706DM0

OOC: This made me chuckle. IC: ((CMO's Office, Main Sickbay, Deck 10, USS Thor)) Hoping to save some of his precious time, Wes stood in front of Lieutenant Alieth’s desk, hoping against hope that she would help him out. Greaves: Hey Doc, hope you're not busy. I was looking for a favor. The woman's face remained expressionless, but somehow acquired a more relaxed air. Alieth: No, in fact, it is a remarkably quiet day. How can I be of service? Wes slid a padd out of his uniform pocket and slid it across Alieth's desk. Greaves: I won't lie, I'm not here for a social call. I'm swamped with work and I need my annual medical signed off. Can you hook me up and clear me for duty? The Marine watched as Alieth glanced at the padd, then at the marine, then back at the padd, and once again at her friend. Her brow furrowed anew, dangerously so. Largely because there was a taunting glint behind the sullen expression. Alieth: Absolutely not a chance. You are going to get the mandatory physical. Point. By. Point. oO Ah, so we’re doing it the hard way Oo Wes dropped into a chair in front of the woman’s desk and frowned at her. Greaves: Alieth, come on. I’m swamped with work, I don’t have time. Besides, you basically just did an exam after my shuttle… incident. Tell you what, we can work something out. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. The Vulcan folded her arms across her chest and radiated an energy that would make most men taller than her cringe. Alieth: I will not accept bribes this time Wesley, you have skipped so much Vulcan scolding lately, Come on, take off your jacket. For a moment Wes considered arguing, but he knew his friend. This was a lost battle, and it wasn’t a hill he needed to die on. If anything, cooperation would speed things along. Then again, a little begruding acceptance wouldn’t hurt. Greaves: Fine, fine, but let’s make this quick. Just wave a tricorder over me or something and call it good. Alieth: Come on Wesley, stop being so shy, I have stirred the inner part of your ribcage, I think few people can say the same. With an exaggerated huff more characteristic of an angry 12 year old, Wes stood and began unbuttoning his uniform top with extreme prejudice. Greaves: Alright doc, have it your way, but I’m going to remember this next time you need a favor from us. Just know, if you ask me to pee in a cup, I’m spilling it. Now what do you want me to do? Alieth: Response He tossed his uniform jacket onto the desk, nearly causing one of the two small towers of padds to wobble. For a second it looked like it might topple, but eventually the wobbling settled and Wes shot his friend a mischievous glance. Greaves: Well you should know my medical history better than I do by now. I basically don’t remember the last time I was here… you know, head trauma and all that. Aleith: Response Greaves: I mean, I’ve got all the usuals. My back aches, my ears ring, my knees hurt, I seem to roll my ankle at least once a week… You know, normal stuff. Is there something in particular you’re asking about? Alieth: Response TAG/TBC ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander Chief of Security & Tactical USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 =========================

Welcome! We're so glad to have you!

Oh wow, this was really moving and a great peek into his struggling to come to terms with what he had to do.

Oh man, love the ABBA inserted in there! And banana guns! Yes!

@Alex Brodie has a way of really deepening his character and also giving more depth to a situation. Here we see a blast from the past and a relation to something that involves the planet the Thor is now taking shore leave on - Cardassia. I can't wait to see what happens next. I love this look into Brodie's past! IC: ((Applied Psychology Division, Elysium Research Institute, Mars)) ((Year: 2375)) Alexander Brodie sat watching the feed come in from the Federation News Service; he wasn’t channel hopping for fun though, this was work. FNS Reporter: I’m here with Anders De Brunn, Chief Financial Officer of Teldaris Resources. Mr De Brunn, can you comment on news reports from Ferenginar that Teldaris are being investigated by the Ferengi Commerce Authority over irregularities in commissions paid to agents to operate in the Irtok system? The man raised his mouth to his chin and rubbed his face unconsciously, covering his mouth. De Brunn: I’m glad you asked me that question… Brodie: ::Muttering:: No you’re not… De Brunn: …I can honestly say that there is absolutely no truth in these reports regarding an investigation from the Ferengi Commerce Authority. There were some undisclosed advanced payments to secure the contracts… It was all there. The repeating of the question, the raised shoulder, the change in cadence and lowering of the voice. Alex smiled while shaking his head and made a few notes. Brodie: ::Muttering:: …bribery… De Brunn: We’ve discussed this with the FCA and we’re satisfied that the matter is resolved to everyone’s satisfaction. He turned his wrist slightly, almost pointing at the interviewer to try and make the point and cover the lie again. FNS Reporter: Anders De Brunn, thank you. Now back to our main story, Federation relief efforts cont… The sound went off and Brodie turned around in his chair to see Tommy Morgan leaning near the control console for the audio-visual suite. Morgan was, to all intents and purposes, the business manager for the institute. While they primarily focused on research, they had a commercial arm that could be hired to examine corporate matters and, on occasion, support the court system. His presence meant there’d been a request but, to his credit, he went for small-talk first. Morgan: ::Nodding at the screen:: What do you think? Brodie: I think the Commerce Authority are raiding their offices as we speak. Morgan: Not a surprise really. He’s a business executive, they all lie. Brodie: True…but he is extremely bad at it. Tommy pointed to the screen. Images of the destruction on the Cardassian homeworld from the culmination of the Dominion War had dominated the news for the last two weeks since the peace treaty had been signed Morgan: Hell of a thing, isn’t it? Brodie leaned back in his chair. Brodie: I’m just glad it’s done and the threat is gone…or at least diminished. I still can’t quite shake those images of San Fransico…I’m just glad they left Mars alone. Morgan: For sure…actually…it’s on a similar subject that I’m here actually. There’s a request come in for a project – of world…out of the system actually. That was a cagier and more circumspect than he’d expected from Morgan. Alex regarded him more closely. Brodie: ::Suspiciously:: Why are you sweating? Morgan: It’s warm. Mars is hot…right? It wasn’t, and Tommy knew that. Brodie: ::Still suspicious:: Compared to Breen maybe…tell me, Tommy, exactly how far-slash-long is this trip you had in mind? Morgan: Er…::pointing at the screen::..Cardassia… Brodie: Cardassia! Morgan: …for three months. Broide: Three months! Morgan: Now, Alex, calm down. You see why I was sweating. ::Pause:: Look, the civilian government wants independent observers to make sure that those giving aid aren’t establishing any kind of political foothold…there’s a lot of players in the game. I know we’re Federation citizens but we’re not Starfleet. Broide: Thankfully…three months is a long time to be away though. You know we’re trying to start a family, right? Morgan: Yeah but, Ros isn’t pregnant yet, is she? Brodie glowered at the man. Brodie: Not that it’s any of your business but no – and that’s unlikely to change if I’m not here. Morgan: It’s just a few months… Brodie: On Cardassia! Which was a war zone until about two weeks ago!::Pause:: Why me? Morgan: You know why. You’ve made no secret you’re thinking of moving on when your grant runs out – and I’m not blaming you, far from it. You’re looking to start a family and you’re not tenured so I completely understand the desire for more security. Alex leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. Brodie: But? Morgan: ::Sighing:: But the old man in the wheelchair doesn’t want to see you go – he knows you might but he wants you to know that, if you go without doing this then you’ll not get the reference you need. Brodie took a deep breath through his nose. He shouldn’t shoot the messenger, and he could now see why Tommy was sweating, but he would have his displeasure noted. Brodie: ::Icily:: So it’s blackmail now? Morgan: It’s…a mutually beneficial arrangement. We secure the best services for the job and you secure your future… Brodie: ::Standing:: What was it you were saying about business executives Tommy? Morgan: That’s a little harsh…I wouldn’t lie to you, Alex. Brodie looked the man right in the eye. Brodie: True…but then you know I’d know. He turned and looked at the feed, still playing out in silence… Brodie: I do not care for this, Tommy. Fine…send me the details. ::Grabbing his jacket and leaving the room:: I’m taking an early lunch…possibly a liquid one. TBC ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

@Alex Brodie writes up a lovely summary of our most recent mission but couples it with some thoughts about the Prime Directive. I love how he refers to precedents to make a case for what the Thor did. I found it a nice wrap up to our mission! IC: ((Intelligence Watch Centre, Deck Three, USS Thor)) Broide had occupied the main office in the Intelligence suite. Jehe was on leave so he was taking his rotation although there was less in the way of intelligence briefings and a lot more legal documentation scattered over the desk. This was likely to be a bit of a problematic report for the ship and, while his reports were mostly kept to the medical archives he wanted to make sure he had everything locked in place. He pulled up the draft. --- THR-AWB-COU-MIS-0010 TO: Starfleet Medical Central Records CC: USS Thor Central Records Following a period of shoreleave on Vulcan the USS Thor was initially assigned to conduct a survey of an unusual stellar phenomenon: a pair of hypervelocity stars on nearly identical trajectories. Enroute to the system in question, however, the Thor detected a distress call from a cluster of nearby planetoids. This identification code associated with the signal identified it as being the USS Excalibur. Records show that this vessel was officially listed as lost during the Federation-Klingon War in the mid twenty-third century – well over one-hundred years ago. Under the guidance of Commander Geoffrey Teller this officer, along with Ensign Peri Katsim and Ensign Dar Elandra began reviewing available information regarding the vessel, including its likely course and possible locations. Consideration was also given to General Order One (Prime Directive) regarding potential indigenous populations and the effect that either the Excalibur crew, or their descendants, may have had on their natural evolution. The same also applies to the potential transfer of technology – which seemed likely, given the source of the signal. Given the lack of information available in the records, and the age of the information that was. A decision was made to beam down to the surface as a group, under cultural camouflage protocols and investigate further as well as take scientific samples for further study. Upon arrival on the planets surface, in the margins of a volcanic plateau, samples were collected and some tectonic readings were taken indicating an increase in volcanic activity in the region. Shortly after arrival, however, a series of life signs were detected and the group moved to cover with overwatch being provided by Ensign Dar. The lifeforms in question appeared to be Klingon in origin. These riders were led by an individual known as Betlak and appeared to be a ‘scout party’. This officer conversed with Betlak as the universal translator seemed unable to process the dialect they were using. The situation deteriorated as Betlak was not receptive to diplomatic channels – taking Ensign Per Katsim hostage. This conflict was short lived, however, as a group of mounted troops arrived to disperse the Klingons. These troops, more accurately knights, were from the local city of Calabrum and were led by their Queen – Arta Du Pendragon. This city, it became clear, had been established by the original crew of the Excalibur and maintained by their descendants. This officer, in addition to Commander Teller, Doctor and Quen and Ensign Dar was granted an audience with her Highness. It became clear that it was the queen herself who had made the distress call and that she was being advised by the court ‘wizard’ a man named Velik. It also became clear that the decedents of the Klingons – known locally as ‘Klings’ had been at war with the city of Calabrum for the majority of the previous century. In recent times these Klings had become more organized under the leadership of an individual known only as Modrawt. It was resolved that Ensign Dar and Commander Teller would remain and work with the Knights Calbrum and myself and doctor Quen would accompany the Queen to the local settlement of upto see how the conflict had affected the local population in the nearby settlement of Upton. On arrival it became clear that the local water supply had become contaminated, possibly deliberately, form the volcano leading to chemical burns. A parasitic infection, however, could not be ruled out. Following the realisation that a larger raiding party was headed for Calabrum to place the city under siege a meeting was called between Fleet Captain Aron Kells and Queen Du Pendragon where a plan was put in place to remove the descendants of the Excalibur, at their request. Further, the increased tectonic activity of the volcano now threatened an eruption. While this could not be prevented under General Order One it would provide appropriate cover for the evacuation attempt. This officer was assigned, along with Lieutenant Commander Lia Rouiancet to provide a level of control to the volcanic eruption. This involved the use of a binary explosive mixture that would be detonated in order to collapse a section of the magma chamber. This allowed a portion of the magma to be drained to adjacent chambers to limit the exposure to Calabrum. The detonation was conducted without incident once the explosives had been placed by hand. During this time, the remaining senior staff performed the evacuation. [[Classified: Command Level Only]] Consideration must be given to the Prime Directive. The actions undertaken by the USS Thor during this mission do constitute a violation of the prime directive. In mitigation, however, I submit the below reasonings along with appropriate precedents: The distress call was directed by Velik. Further review of the original crew manifest of the USS Excalibur at the time of its loss would indicate that this is likely to be a Vulcan who was serving as a junior science officer at the time. This would classify as a request for aid from a fellow Starfleet officer and the need to conduct a rescue mission [Precedent: Zeta Gelis Star Cluster, 2366]. In addition, any request for aid [Precedent: Drema VI, 2365] may be considered exemption criteria and the level of aid rendered by the crew of the USS Thor was conducted in such a way that it is believed it would not have impacted the pre-contamination development of the indigenous society [Precedent: Barkon IV, 2370]. This also allowed the correction of alterations to the natural evolution caused by the Klingons [Precedent; Neural, 2268]. It is my understanding that any indigenous people who were caught up in the evacuation are being transferred to Deep Space Thirty-Two for repatriation. The Same is true of the Klingon descendants who have been repatriated to the Klingon Empire already. The descendants of the Excalibur are to be relocated once a suitable world has been identified for them. It is recommended that observation teams are dispatched to both the original extraction planet to monitor any possible disruption. [[End Classified]] [[Personal Notes]] The nature of this mission, regrettably, is somewhat of a pyrrhic victory. While there was the aversion of a significant loss of life, we cannot ignore the fact that a culture has been uprooted from their home world and will take some time to adjust. Further, this culture, through no fault of their own, has been locked in a conflict with the remnants of the Klingon Empire for over a century. I wonder what the Klingons will make of their new wards? I would hope they would welcome them back as fellows but where they may fit into Klingon society after one-hundred years…it will be a difficult adjustment but I hope the Klingons hold true and honour their ancestors. Following the events of this mission several crew changes have occurred including the leave of Doctor Quen Deena and Junior Lieutenant Jeha Saja. I’m pleased to report, however, that Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia will be re-joining the USS Thor on our arrival at Cardassia Prime. Signed Lt. Cmdr. Alexander W. Brodie; Psy.D, Ph.D. Chief Counsellor, USS --- Alex re-read the citations on the legal side of things, just to make sure he had his dates right and then submitted the report. He leaned back in the chair and picked up a PADD - Cardassia Prime....how long had it been? FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

Now I'm worried.

I vote for pin the tail on the birthday kid.

Don't mess with Wyn when he's hangry.

Dribble dribble, drop, drop, drop!

Just a little.

OOC: I was trying to figure out which quotes were my favourite and realised I just love this entire sim. Wyn is hilarious and cute. My favourite miniature Andorian doctor! IC: ((Virixis IV)) He was laying in a hammock. He liked hammocks. His dad had a hammock back in Pepperel, which he had expressly told Wyn to not ‘play around in’ and therefore it was exactly Wyn’s favorite thing to play around in. They were also tremendously comfy. He was sitting there, half drowsing, half awake, just enjoying the calm of the day and petting Triberius, because of course he could get a pet sitter for all of his tribbles, but this stupid little monster snuck into his bag. Besides, it was a strange little hybrid and he didn’t trust anyone else to tend it. So here the tribblecat was. He was purring contentedly in the sunlight, proof positive that he could be an angel at times as much as he could be a monster, like any good feline creature. Generally those times coincided with when he was asleep. He had pushed Wyn to a near sleep state, but Wyn’s ever empty stomach was keeping him awake. He should go get dinner, but he was comfortable here and Triberius was purring. It was a terrible conundrum… DeVeau: =/\=Wyn?=/\= He recognized the voice on the other end. Alora. And her tone was wavering, filled with pain. He shot up from his hammock as if jolted with electricity. Triberius protested loudly. Foster: =/\= Alora, what’s wrong? =/\= Immediate doctor mode engaged. He was on his feet and Triberius was being hauled back into to his very cushy habitat. Of course how could he have a habitat if he snuck into Wyn’s things? It might have been a planned sneaking. An allowed sneaking even. Not important right now if someone was in pain. His antennae curled forward listening for more clues. DeVeau: =/\=Can you come? Please?=/\= Foster: =/\= what’s wrong? =/\= Immediately searching for more information as he grabbed a medkit. Triberius made his dismay known by farting noxiously in Wyn’s direction before fluffing a new bed with a haughty huff. DeVeau: ::Swallowing.:: =/\=It’s...it’s classfied. Please...come?=/\= Oh no. Not that. That was the thing she contacted his Dad about. Crap. He started to gather his things, stuffed them in a bag and hustled. Foster: =/\= I’ll be right there. =/\= He located her from her commsignal and rushed out of his room, hair mussed, white button down and jeans – hardly decent doctor’s attire, but it would have to do. With any luck there would not be any blood, but whenever was he lucky? Out of the resort proper and into the pathways that led to the cabins. He was quick on his feet from too many nights of running to forget his nightmares. And running because he liked it. And running because it was good exercise. There were many reason to run. This was one of them. He wasn’t even out of breath when he came to the darkened, cabin. His antennae twitched. Popcorn. Popcorn? French fries? He almost was suspicious. Almost. He was trying oh so very hard to train himself to not be paranoid. He was not paranoid. He was a little paranoid. Still, he opened the door, medical bag slung across his shoulders and let his antennae do the sensing. Oh no, something was up. Foster: … Alora? He called out halfway between a fully innocent lamb that had totally and completely fallen for it and a paranoid grumpy twit who was starting to suspect something was up. The lights came on and he instinctively took a step back, shielding his eyes. But they were mercifully dim as they popped on but didn’t flare. Rue must have hinted at his light sensitivity. DeVeau: HAPPY BIRTHDAY WYN! Blackwell: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WYN! ::She said in time with Alora:: Yael: ? His jaw dropped and he just stopped, frozen for a moment as a deep shade of navy colored his cheeks. Was running away a viable option? No, idiot, it was not. This was a nice thing. An embarrassing nice thing. Was hiding a viable option? No, idiot, it was not. This was a nice thing. So maybe standing frozen was a viable option. Ok, that was a compromise, it would do until some words dribbled out. Foster: … thank you? ::No, don’t make it sound like a question, idiot.:: Thank you! ::That’s better. Next time don’t smile like your lips are being stretched, but you’re getting there.:: I didn’t expect… Now that was the honest truth. DeVeau: You don’t think we would forget, would you? Blackwell: He probably forgot himself ::And winked gently to the Andorian:: But Happy Birthday Wyn Yael: ? He was recovering now and he had adopted that roguish, somewhat jaded, kinda charming mask. It was a comfortable persona, it worked for him. Foster: Gotta admit, Rue, it’s easy to forget your own birthday when you Dad threw a dart at a calendar and said ‘yep that’s the day we’re celebrating’ because no one kept records on a primitive iceball… This was true. His eyes adjusted and he dared a step in. Rue waved her hands as if she was a game show hostess and revealed a table full of… Food. Ok, food. He was coming to terms with this. This was a nice surprise party for him, which had certainly surprised him, he was totally embarrassed but also very hungry and these were friends, so he couldn’t be mad (well, maybe just a little mad) and he had to remind himself to be happy and Shut up and eat, Wyn. Everything will be happier and less maddening if you eat. His stomach growled an agreement. Blackwell: We have sweets, fruit, healthy treats, not so healthy treats...and of course drinks. Just a quiet night, with friends. Foster: Ok, I like that. ::he said in a soft voice, almost like a child.:: Yael/DeVeau: ? Foster: Of course I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. Well, maybe not always, but most times. With an overactive metabolism, it wasn’t hard to devour three meals per day and still be seeking snacks. And he was past supper. Oh yes, he was hungry. Foster: ::Looking to Rue as he neared the snack table.:: You did this for me? Blackwell::She walked up and was the first to offer a friendly hand towards Wyn, putting an arm around his shoulder, and smiled reassuringly:: Yup - we did this...for you. He leaned into the touch and took in a long deep breath. Foster: Thank you. This time with 110 percent fewer weird smiles. Improvement! Yael/DeVeau: ? Blackwell: Well first….why don’t we have some drinks ::a quick waggle of brows:: and enjoy ourselves! Foster: I can get down with that. ::He nodded stuffing a slice of apple in his mouth.:: Yael/DeVeau/Blackwell: ? Foster: No, I ran here! Triberius was quite cross. ::He shook his head:: He was keeping me hostage in the hammock. Yael/DeVeau/Blackwell: ? Foster: Of course I brought him. I left the tribbles back home… But he comes everywhere. He’s special… like a rash, you know. I can’t get rid of him. Yael/DeVeau/Blackwell: ? More food was grabbed and munched while the others were talking. Foster: I mean as long as we don’t play pin the tail on the birthday kid, I’m pretty OK with whatever. Maybe one of those terrible movies Rue loves? Yael/DeVeau/Blackwell: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ Lt Commander Shar’Wyn Foster Chief Surgeon StarBase 118 Ops

Wyn Foster. Medical Genius. So humble.

This made me laugh! 😄

We so happy to have you both here!

Glad to have you back, @Orion.Pendragon!

This just CRACKED ME UP.