Alora DeVeau

I seriously want to smack T'Lil

The one that made me cry was "The Offspring". As a mother of four children, that episode in particular hit home.

This entire thing just made me laugh. ((IKS Yan – Unlisted Shuttebay 14)) A secret shuttlebay. A janky old B’Rel class warbird. Wearing his old, comfortable drifter clothing with his trusty Cardassian disruptor pistol in his boot. Could this mission get any better? Well yes, they could succeed, live, have a party filled with every type of egg dish imaginable and then all get to sit in hot tubs. Separate hot tubs, probably, at least for Zel’s latinum. The commline shrilled and he peeked his head out from underneath the helm console where he was hard at work with a laser welder, determined to get this thing performing to some degree of accuracy. It wasn’t quite ‘turn on a dime’ but at least it was no longer ‘turn on a half a planetoid.’ McLaren: =/\= McLaren to Zel. Get the ship ready to leave... you’ve got 5 minutes. =/\= Zel: =/\= I’ll have it ready for you in four. =/\= ::He stated with the utmost confidence:: =/\= What’s going on? =/\= McLaren: =/\= I’m on my way to the bridge now, I'll explain when I get there. =/\= Zel: =/\= Right on. =/\= Ok, time to finish up his work and get things heated up. The good thing was this was a simple system and it booted up far faster than a federation vessel of the same age. It also had far less finesse and relied mostly on the skill of the driver to prevent the thing from flying into a sun or crashing into a StarBase. Fortunately Zel liked to think of himself as a very good driver. Pulling himself out from under the helm console he saw his team gather at the cramped bridge area. Zel dusted himself off, looking every inch of a scrappy drifter. Looking every inch of who he was seven years ago. But a bit more well fed and a bit less broken down. Starfleet medical was a magical thing once he had stopped being utterly paranoid about doctors trying to kill him. McLaren: We're launching as soon as Tony and his team are aboard. Zel: Right on. Hey, on the bright side I got the computer banks working with Rue’s translation program, so Merry Birthoween, you can now read your consoles and panels in Federation Common! That was a legit holiday, right? Zel didn’t celebrate holidays. He just had a drink every time he didn’t die and that was celebration enough. Blackwell/Yael/Parvana: ? McLaren: The Cult is pushing the tempo... and they have Max too. Zel: That doesn’t sound good. Master of understatement, Zel Rohan was. Blackwell/Yael/Parvana: ? McLaren: I would have like another couple of hours, to be honest... but we dont have that luxury anymore. We'll have to finish everything else as we're in route. Blackwell/Yael/Parvana: ? Zel: I assuming we’re going to cloak as soon as we clear the Base’s shield array? That might have been the only thing that was fully working on the ship when it arrived. A bunch of things still weren’t working so hot. Not the least of which was the air circulation system, which made the dim, cramped bridge smell keenly of Klingon farts and fermented fish. Weapons targeting was still calibrating, though they should be able to finish that well before they reached Klingon space. And they had a shipment of emergency rations because the replicators were at best sketchy and at worst a surefire way to a week long stay in sickbay. Blackwell/Yael/Parvana/McLaren: ? Zel: And we should practice who we all are on this mission. I mean cover persona. Zel assumed he could still go as himself. But if Sol directed against it, he had a backup plan. Blackwell/Yael/Parvana/McLaren: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ pNPC Lieutenant JG Zel Rohan Helm officer StarBase 118 Ops

Let's hope it stays that way!

So I find this amusing because we had our voice chat yesterday and I was talking about when I read Moby [...]. For those who don't know, the very first line in the book is "Call me Ishmael.". So not only was this line used, but the names are very close in spelling. 😄

Welcome! We're glad that you're here with us!

O_O

All you need is Borq. Borq is all you need.

So Klingons are Wizards? 🤔

OOC: I just love Cheesecake. The dog...and the dessert. But I especially love how this sim ended. [[ U.S.S Thor, Deck 6, Senior Enlisted Mess Hall. ]] The biped held the delicious thing in front of her for a moment but then, to Cheesecake's despair, he pushed it away. Even worse, he said the forbidden word. "No." Not only that but he repeated it several times. This was, no doubt, a definitive verdict that condemned her to an eternity of not being able to taste whatever it was that the biped didn't want her to have, which was, to begin with, tragic, and to follow, unfair. As every dog, Cheesecake was aware that rules were more like guidelines and so, they could be pushed a little in the right direction, namely, in the direction that would get her what she wanted, if she was a really good girl, and she pulled her ears back, put her snout down, and gave him THE LOOK. Of course, Cheesecake had had to up the level THE LOOK since her handler was a pointy-eared biped and she had learned the hard way that pointy-eared bipeds required a LOT MORE coaxing. But she had certainly picked up the lesson very well, so the other biped who used to live with her handler always, ALWAYS fell under the spell of THE LOOK. Of course, she proved victorious in the staring contest. Kerr: Access favorite replicator options for Crewman First Class Watanabe. Wantanabe: Boorf Boorf! Computer: Crewman First Class Watanabe's list of food preferences, Cheesecake contains 1348 items, listed chronologically as: Canine kibble number 33, socks, Vulcan meditation candle oil type e49b, miscellaneous bone remnants, cheese (non descripted), tofu, batbird soup Hasoor VII variety, medium quality paper, standard mid-sized padd, electronic components for medical tricorder parts 458 to 567, kibble number 45, cat kibble number 2, standard mattress stuffing.... Kerr: Computer, proceed with top recommendation. Computer =/\= Unable to comply. Replicators offline. =/\= The biped shook his head and Cheesecake tilted it. She took her job as a therapy dog to heart and she knew exactly when someone was down, so she was more than willing to help. Kerr: Alright. Let me get this filter swapped out, and then we’ll get some lunch. Then her new best friend left the thing away from her, with all the gestures that indicated that he really wasn't going to pass it along because he wanted it just for him, and utter display that indicated that he didn't like to share. Cheesecake pouted ruefully. She loved to share, sharing was caring. Especially if other people shared with her. Kerr: We’re going to leave that there. (Slowly backing away.) Jussssst theeeereeee. That’s where it’s staying. It’s not going to be touched. Agreed? Wantanabe: soft whining Then, the biped climbed on one of those things that bipeds used to reach places and... disappeared. More or less. But he kept talking anyway, so Cheesecake remained there, wagging her tail cheerfully every time the biped uttered a word. Kerr: (Head deep in the filter unit of replicator two) Just got to align the cartridge. There was a loud snap and click, and a tail wagged for a few seconds. Kerr: (Leaning further into the filter unit) Then twist and lock to connect the sensors. Got to use the hexkey to secure it and ... Wantanabe: (In earnest) Woof Woof A hand came out from a box with something that looked suspiciously like a stick and, for an moment, Cheesecake stood on all four paws, awestruck (and flattered) by the sudden session of FETCH. Kerr: Gross! No fetch. Disappointed whimper, rear on floor. The scene played out over and over again for a few minutes until, finally, Cheesecake stretched out on the floor, rested her head between her forepaws and... she snoozed, the purpose of her mission forgotten, except for the fact that the biped somehow needed her support. Only later, when the speakers in all the corridors blew an annoying honk and the lights changed in two different degrees of colours that, of course, a dog could not fully differentiate, Cheesecake woke up. It was then, and only then, that the big mastiff remembered a number of things: That she had made a new friend, that really needed to have someone listen to him, so she was going to have to visit him more often. That this noise meant work and that therefore she should head to a sickbay. That she should remember to not get in the way. For real. And that she had to help. So, without dawdling for too long, Cheesecake barked a farewell and, just as she had entered, she left the mess hall. Her surprise was complete when she found one of her favourite two-legged friends in her workplace, sprawled out on one of those things that moved bipeds around. And as one would do with good friends, she booped his hand to tell him that she was there and that, despite everything, he was not alone. [[END]] ================================= Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator /Art Director =================================

Welcome Cassie! We're so glad you're here!

I've really enjoyed having @Tatash in our group. I love his very picturesque narration style. His sims are always well thought out and artfully done. ((CO’s Office – Starbase 118)) The party they had all enjoyed not that long prior was well and truly over and the mood was dour as he stood outside the Commodores office waiting for the invitation in. The dreaded talk, the one that had been alluded to during the ceremony was upon them. He had given the other officers a nod as he strode his way in, before internally wincing as he saw Nugra sat among them. The subject matter would not be enjoyable for anyone, perhaps doubly so for another Gorn when it came to hearing the rumours and terrible days that could be potentially on the horizon for their mutual race. He tensed his fingers, drumming an impatient tune on the PADD he held behind his loose-fitting jackets back, a leather one that sat above dark trousers and boots. Even his comm-badge was tucked away inside his breast pocket with no Starfleet markings visible on him at all. His business was to blend in, to be the invisible one, and to avoid the crosshair painted on him as a Starfleet uniform tended to attract. He looked like any other freighter captain or fairly well to do trader that visited the station on a daily basis with mundanity. That was the illusion he needed to portray. His eyes found himself looking out one of the small windows, no way near as grand as the one the Commodore had in his office but it gave a good enough view of one of the smaller civilian flight-lanes, held in the almost endless traffic queues waiting for permission to dock. Little specks they were, drifting back and forth, tiny civilian ships coming and going like fireflies on a summer’s night blinking occasionally from their little beacons and lights. He almost felt jealous of them drifting around in their blissful ignorance with their simpler lives. Unburdened by the horrors of potential war and terrorism, seeking only the next trade deal or shipment or vacation. As the saying went, ignorance was indeed bliss. With a pop-hiss the doors opened with the Commodore waving them inwards. Tatash took the invitation, although he let the more senior officers in. Taybrim: Welcome everyone. And Thank Captain T’Aven and Captain Nugra for joining up before you head out. As promised the information pertinent to the Marchlands is first on the agenda. Please, come in and have a seat. Tatash gestured to the chairs letting the others take them, he was content to stand at the back. If he didn’t have the luxury of pacing the room to keep the oxygen flowing to his brain at least standing could do half as good a job. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra: ? A grid of light played over them from a series of projectors, along with a slight fizzing sensation on his scales. The light was solely there to prove a point to anyone present that the room was being sealed, and anyone trying to snoop would be given a millisecond to turn off their devices before a Security detachment hunted them down. Taybrim: As the security layer indicates what we’re about to talk about is classified. ::he turned towards T’Aven and Nugra:: That said, I have shared the majority of this information with Commodore Rajel and you are granted permission to speak with her about any of this information. I trust you will take precautions when you do; but we need to take extra care here in the Trinity Sector as we are directly in the middle of the conflict I am about to explain. The Constitution is removed from it in your patrols of the Marchlands so there is less of a risk to your ship. Tatash: For now. An ominous warning, but it set the tone for the torrent of bad news that was about to come like a volley of miserable little bullets from the briefing notes. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra: ? Taybrim: I know the Constitution has tangled with the Orion Syndicate before; and I have spoken of it with Jalana several times. The Syndicate has grown in power without having any real territory and holdings over the past two decades; much of it done while Starfleet erroneously believed the Syndicate was stamped out. They resurfaced about five years ago and we’ve been dealing with them ever since. Tatash nodded in agreement. The syndicate was an endless, festering tumour that sunk its malignant little tendrils into every part of the quadrant. You could kill one cell, you could shatter one ring, and another would simply regrow and take its place. Somehow independent, somehow a terrible whole. Taybrim: One of the most recent ventures of the Orion Syndicate has been supporting and funding a splinter cult within the Klingon Empire that calls themselves the Followers of Molor. They worship the tyrant Molor, defeated by Kahless, and follow a path of pain, chaos and dishonor. For centuries they have been little more than miscreant maladjusted outsiders that have stayed at the edges of Klingon society, but with the Syndicate support they have been able to amass a considerable amount of power which they have used to focus on one major goal: overthrowing the Klingon High Council and initiating a new regime. Tatash: It’s important to note that the cult is just that, it’s a sect. It isn’t tied to one specific house, instead it has a trace amount of just about every single one of the main powers in Qo’nos. That’s what’s making it so insidious. It’s the absolute indoctrination of its members that make it equally dangerous. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra: ? Taybrim: Correct. The cult in and of itself is not that powerful. But they have drawn support from houses that do not care for the cult’s doctrine at all, but are happy to see the cult tear down the current Chancellor Daeshon and his progressive policies. Policies that have brought prosperity to the Empire at large, but drawn power and influence away from certain houses. Those houses are all too happy to turn a blind eye to the Cult’s doctrine in favor of using them as a tool to spark civil war. And those houses were absolutely ignorant of the bigger picture. Vying for power without appreciating the destabilising actions that would come with it. Every battle would leave even the winner with cuts, and eventually they would simply bleed themselves out. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra: ? Sal now turned and let his gaze fall on T’Aven and then Nugra in particular. Taybrim: I’m afraid it’s more worrisome than that. Starting Klingon Civil war is a task beyond the power of the Cult, so they have tried a different tactic which they are far more likely to succeed in. The Cult has been aggressing the Gorn Hegemony along the border, trying to incite a war between the Hegemony and the Empire – which would internally destabilize the Empire and leave it ripe for a revolution of the worst kind. Tatash met the Commodores gesture and nodded. He was up. Tatash: Before I proceed, I have to remind everyone that this information has been classified as top secret. Even then, the information has had the sources redacted and scrubbed to protect our intelligence assets in various locations. Everyone that has been given access to this information has been recorded, and even then it's only a handful. He looked at Nugra specifically. It was not a pleasant conversation to discuss intelligence about your own species, let alone when it was gathered through clandestine means. ‘Various locations’ always included allies, friends and neutral parties as well as hostile powers People seemed to forget that Starfleet Intelligence had just as many ears as any of the major powers' secret little clubs like the Tal Shiar or Obsidian Order, Starfleet was just far more pleasant about going about it in their day to day operation. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra/Taybrim: Tatash pressed something on his PADD, projecting a map of the bordering space between the Gorn Hegemony and the Klingon Empire in mid-air, one half a golden colour, the other the default Red of the Empire. Various icons representing each powers fleets and battle groups hung in static locations. Tatash: This is the current fleet movements of both powers recorded by our deep sensor units, as it was a month ago. This is now. He pressed another button, large arrows of movement appearing from those various icons as one by one they began to drift towards each other, heading towards that diagonally-slashed line that denoted the buffer between the two. It was easily visible there was a far greater number of red icons than gold. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra/Taybrim: Tatash nodded. Tatash: The cults actions are having an effect, these manoeuvres are not standard exercises or logistical movements. The discord that they have been sowing between the two powers is causing posturing on both sides. It was hoped that the fleet movements alone would be the sole demonstration of power. However… The screen changed, a new set of icons appearing on several Gorn planets near the border. Tatash: In response to the disparity of power fleet, these planets have been heavily rumoured to have received an unknown number of strategic subspace weapons on long range platforms, similar to the Cardassian ATR-4107 units, autonomous delivery systems with guidance systems designed to evade most countermeasures. Interestingly, the Gorn are being uncharacteristically noisy about their deployment spreading ripples deliberately in the right intelligence channels to get noticed. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra/Taybrim: Tatash nodded, his finger hovering over the button. Tatash: They want to send a message. The Hegemony would never win an outright war with the Empire, so they are ensuring they have a visible deterrent. However, if the deterrent should fail… He pressed the button. The map changed, unrecognisably so. Swathes of the starfield had become blobs dotted with red ‘x’s, Qo’nos itself was surrounded by them, large areas of Gorn border space wrapped in a shroud of equally black unmarked space, and along the bottom of the horrible was a large number. Impossibly large. Billions large. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra/Taybrim: Tatash: Those dark areas with the crosses are subspace rifts caused by prolonged use of subspace weapons, warp travel would be rendered virtually impossible inside them. The Hegemony would be defeated, but the cost would be catastrophic to the Empire and near extinction for the Gorn who would charisterically fight to the last. The figure along the bottom there is the predicted number of deaths by the conflict, and with an Empire on it’s knees and a subjugated race desperate for aid, the Syndicate would have absolute free reign over picking the carcass of both clean. This is what they would consider a -satisfactory- outcome. Meeks/T’Aven/Nugra/Taybrim: --- Major Tatash Marine Intelligence (Charlie Company) Starbase 118 Ops C239108T10

There are no gigantic explosions, no great heroic deeds, no mighty efforts. This is a simple but well written sim that gives insight into the character and help sets up the situation that character is about step into. I appreciate @Alex Brodie's ability to make me care and connect with his character. ((Brodie’s Quarters, Deck Five, USS Thor)) Brodie tossed his scribe onto the desk and leaned back. Two hours he’d been poring over legal texts and treaties and directives and it was giving him a headache. He knew the battle…and it was a battle…against Anroc wasn’t going to be easy and he needed to make sure that everything fell into place in the right way. As he’d said to Kells, there couldn’t be any missteps with their people down there. Firstly, there was Starfleet General Order One and its many, many, sub-orders. He’d dearly love to tear the entire subjugation culture of the Zet down, but it was their societal norm – it would amount to destabilising an established government. Their mere presence had already violated it in part - the Zet were not warp capable. That said it could be argued that, while not a warp capable culture, they had travelled beyond their own world using technology at their disposal. Providing technology was also frowned upon…as well as taking actions which supported one faction of society over another…he closed his eyes and saw the impact of the young Zet’s head on the wall…he clenched and unclenched his fists. The Federation Charter also made caste systems illegal and, while that did not technically extend to the Zet, it would add an additional layer of complexity to matters when negotiating the release of technology. The whole notion was really a non-starter…although Anroc didn’t need to know that. He’d also looked over the documentation that had been provided ahead of the ‘negotiations’, he used the word advisedly, and he honestly hadn’t seen much in his years that had terrified him more. Eternal life through some form of cloning process. He wondered if this was related technology to how the Vorta were created…extended…by the Dominion? They were in the Gamma Quadrant after all. Had this been one of Anroc’s acquisitions? He’d need to speak to Ivy about that but getting in-touch wouldn’t be possible out here. But Eternal life? Who wanted that? Truly wanted it? He’d seen on Solace how it had led to a never-ending cycle – the prospect of living forever had meant the Nol-Ennis and the Ennis had never moved on from their civil war until Sulan had joined them. Why live forever if you don’t grow? Then there was the issue of the haves and the have not – would everyone benefit? Or would you get a caste system like the Zet appeared to have. Free to those who could afford it and very expensive to those who couldn’t? And finally, there would be those who would abuse it…because someone always did. Taking a peaceful ideal of, for example, eradicating disease and twisting it into a weapon of war or a tool of dominance. He found he was pacing…he needed change anyway. He opened one of the storage closets and pulled out his dress uniform – running his hand along the edge of the fabric. Anroc needed to see they were taking him seriously. They needed him to be comfortable, and feel like he was in control, but they also needed to project an illusion of authority so he would be prepared to treat them as more than mere ephemerals. This would help set them apart. He also hoped that, in their full regalia, Aron Kells might find some sense of his own identity as a Fleet Captain again. To play the part one had to look the part. But then again…it might come across as a being braggish? Anroc would probably laugh at their pitiful attempt at bravado…and maybe Aron Kells would be reminded of darker times past? As he pushed the jacket back into the locker his hand brushed against the sword that was hanging in its sheath. He still needed to arrange that fencing lesson with Teller – perhaps once this was over – he had some ideas. He took the blade from its hook and slid it free – the silver edge of the rapier glinting in the light. He moved through a few positions around his quarters – stepping one way then the other – like the upcoming confrontation with Anroc the footwork would be key to success. He sheathed the weapon and hung it back up. Words, not weapons, were going to win the day here. He hoped. ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

Spidey is great, but I really enjoyed seeing him in Voyager and him being the actual hero because of what he did to be able to communicate with them.

100% agree!

Welcome to the fleet! Glad to have you!

She's just so cute, I wanna squeeze her cheeks!

Shades of McCoy here...

Maybe it's just me, but I found this amusing. 😄

Should we test this theory? 😄

Welcome Dekas! Glad to have you with us! 😄

🤣🤣🤣🤣

If he's not nuts now, I'm sure it won't be long!

Easy fix. Just get some paint!