Alora DeVeau

Aim high, Geoffrey. Aim high.

You and me both!

Miguel, you're killing me here.

This just made me laugh.

I dunno, @Sal Taybrim, noodles can be used as weapons.

Welcome to the madness! Great to have y'all!

@Alex Brodie has really been kicking out quality sims lately. Another great one, and I just love the symbolism. ((Arboretum, Deck Five, USS Thor)) Alex wiped his brow, smearing dirt across it as he did so. There were dozens - probably dozens of dozens - of trees already in the Arboretum but this was something a little more special. He had been hoping that it would have arrived during the repairs and refit of the vessel at Deep Space Nine but that was not to be. Now the next supply chain had caught up with them he was finally able to make this small gesture. When people said the word Thor they were instantly greeted with mental images of the ancient Norse god of thunder, storms and all-round hammer enthusiast. There was, however, a deeper meaning. The ship's dedication plaque read: “Borders? I have never seen one. But I have heard they exist in the minds of some people.” This was a quotation attributed to Thor Heyerdahl – an explorer from Norway who was alive in the twentieth century. Not only was he an explorer but he also had a background in zoology, botany and geography and his most notable expedition was to show that ancient peoples could have made long sea voyages across the earth creating contacts between different societies. He had also searched, on four separate occasions it should be noted, for the civilization he believed Odin had been part of – although this was never validated. In short, it was possibly the most apt name for the Vesta class multi-mission explorer. The similarities didn’t stop there, however, as both of the ships long range Arrow class runabouts were also named after reed boats that Heyerdahl had constructed as part of his adventures – the Ra and the Tigris. Brodie wanted to honour these two worlds in some small way after the Hammerfall Incident and, while exploration, zoology and geography were all worthy causes, he had chosen to focus on botany. The pushed, with some assistance from the operations team, the large root cluster of the tree over the edge of the hole and into the soil that filled the arboretum. It always amazed him just how much weight the ship could take…when he thought about runabouts and fighters and cargo he was surprised the ship didn’t fall out of orbit. The team he’d been working with picked their shovels back up and began to refill the area around the roots of the Ash tree. It wasn’t mighty just yet – nor was he sure it would ever be so in these artificial surroundings – but it was a gesture that he felt was required. The ‘Vikings’ of the USS Thor, of which Brodie being of Scottish ancestry was probably the closest actual Viking they had, were a tight knit crew who had been through a lot. Key high/low-lights had included kidnappings, attempted assassinations, political intrigues, discovery of new species and the near destruction of their home but they had come through it all – life had found a way. That's what this ‘mighty’ ash tree was – Yggdrasil…at least symbolically. Sometimes called the Tree of Life he actually thought the names translated as ‘Odin’s Horse’ but more in the sense of a gallows or a frame to support everything around it. Odin’s actual horse being an eight-legged beast called Sleipnir. Alex shuddered at the thought of trying to break a creature like that – but if you were a god… That, however, was beside the point. The crew of the USS Thor were not only the worlds, but they were also the gallows. They individuals who supported and protected each other – at this ash tree would stand as a symbol of that. He pushed the small brass plaque into the sod at the foot of the tree: may the crew of the Thor find comfort in it’s shade and strength in its branches. FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

I'm blown away by the amount of talented writers we have in this community, and I considered myself blessed that I have the opportunity to write on not one, but TWO ships where I get to read these wonderful stories by these fantastic writers. This is the beginning of the Thor's next mission. What a way to introduce it! ((Management & Oversight Center - Endless Golden Penetrator)) Lounging imperiously upon a shimmering technological throne, Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc, Owner of the Endless Golden Penetrator, was in a fit of pique. It was now a foregone conclusion he was going to die. He huffed in mild annoyance at what a terribly embarrassing inconvenience this would be for him and his entire organization. Running a hand along his exquisitely crafted suit of clothes, Anroc experienced a brief sartorial joy at the feel of the luxurious silken garments, but it was fleeting. With six eyes, he took in the meticulously appointed command deck, built to his exacting specifications and ostentatious personal tastes. Priceless objet d'art and sumptuous glowmarble inlay had cost millions of credits, and the ship had cost hundreds of billions more. All for another humiliating public failure that was likely to impact their net worth substantially when the annual fiscal picture was reviewed. The fact that eleven hundred and sixty three crewmen and women would die alongside him trapped aboard a crippled ship, stranded at the Edge with no hope of rescue, hadn’t crossed his mind. They were only ephemerals, afterall. Sooner or later, they always died. The larger nuisance would be the staffing issues following this loss of “biological capital,” but the possibility had been considered prior to their mission and the corporation would begin acting on those contingencies soon. From a meticulously handcrafted songwood side table, Anroc lifted a livecrystal goblet that hummed soothingly in response to the warmth of his strong, 3 fingered hand. Filling it with a dram of liquor that would cost the average worker their life savings to acquire, Anroc paused and then, feeling entirely sorry for himself, he poured two more drams. He was going to die today, after all. He tisked to himself as the throne continued its work. Such a nuisance. One of the senior crew ephemerals, Nenni Nokzu, moved towards the dais of the Shipmaster with a bowed head and short, hesitant steps. When Anroc’s drink was agreeably warming his pallet a few minutes later, he turned his head ever so slightly and gave the faintest sign of contemptuous acknowledgement. Nokzu: Shipmaster, if it pleases you... Anroc snapped back at the woman with a combination of boredom and venom. He didn’t bother making eye contact with someone so far beneath him. Anroc: It most certainly does not. If I must suffer this annoyance, you could at least address me using my proper title. ::Anroc was immediately disgusted, his mood souring further:: You do know my full and proper title, of course? Nokzu kept her pale head bowed low and racked her brain. The journey had taken six years just to get where they were at now, and in that whole time serving as the first officer, she’d always stumbled over the long string of namesakes. Speaking slowly to give herself more time, Nokzu worked through it out loud. Nokzu: Owner and Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting… She was pretty sure she’d missed a word in there somewhere. This man was their doom and she couldn’t even appease him at the most basic level. When he didn’t immediately chastise her however, Nokzu decided to press on. aswq Nokzu: … The matter displacement array is completely destroyed. Two of the crew were killed trying to effect the repairs, but it’s a lost cause. With her head low, she winced at the thought to the pair of engineers who had been killed. The chitinous plates on her back shifted slightly like a cat twitching it’s fur. They’d been good men. Friends. Nokkzu: The same impact that destroyed it also damaged the fuel storage. We’re losing fuel and we’ll have no way to decelerate when we reach the Edge. The mission is doomed, shipmaster. Anroc took in this catastrophic declaration with the air of a man who had lost his third favorite hat. Anroc: Ah, so no hope at all then? Such a waste. ::Anroc refilled his glass, this time to capacity. Gesturing towards the half empty crystal decanter, Anroc tried to speak slowly, annunciating each word so even the dimmest ephemeral could understand:: This bottle alone is worth more than a hundred of you, and I have a case in my suites - a splendid gift from my ninth mistress. What am I to tell him? That I simply abandoned his lovely token? A sour taste filled Nokzu’s mouth. Outrage swelled in her chest. She had two children back home. After the briefest moment however, her outrage dissipated. It was a skill she’d honed over decades of serving the deathless, and one of the reasons she’d been hand selected for this mission. Nokzu: There is a small planetoid a week away. We could land on it before the fuel runs out. From there, if we radio the homeworld for assistance, in a decade or two we might be rescu... Anroc rose to his full three meter height in instant fury. Anroc: A distress signal?! Do you have any idea how humiliating it would be for the corporation to have the media rebroadcasting a pathetic cry for help from what was supposed to be our shining triumph? You’ve already failed to take this ship beyond the Edge, don’t compound your mistake with another, or I’ll see to it you’ll never be employed again! That was it. Her last hope. Even traveling at the speed of light it’d take their message nearly five years to reach home, and then six more for another ship to reach theirs. That all hinged on the Shipmaster’s willingness to send the message though. Now, that hope was gone, as was her chance of ever seeing her children again. Employment be damned, Nokzu welled up with anger again, but this time she failed to push it back down. In defiance she rose to her two and half meter height, Anroc still towering over her. Nokzu: (Raising her slender head and locking all six eyes on Anroc) I’ll never be employed again as it is Shipmaster! This ship will be my tomb! Anroc could see the flair of defiance behind the ephemerals eyes and moved to snuff it out instantly. This one had clearly forgotten themselves, and Anroc suspected being away from home for so long had eroded its weak, simple mind. Anroc: Don’t use that insolent tone with me you loathsome chattel! If you’re dead, I’ll make certain no one in your family ever works, no matter what barren airless asteroid farm they run to. Your children will be eating vermin by the end of the year...if they’re fortunate! Fire flashed in her eyes. Indignation, outrage, and fury roiled within Nokzu’s chest. For a time she maintained eye contact until she finally acknowledged the truth behind his words. Her life may be lost, but Nokzu could still help the future of her children. Nokzu: I apologize for my… insolence Shipmaster. You know how us… ephemerals can be. What are your orders for the ship? The moment passed but Anroc could still smell a grotesque, lingering musk of pheromones - not only from Nokzu, but now from some of the other ephemerals on the bridge. The bitter scents of desperation and rage muddled up with the awful pungent aroma of insolence. Around him, the throne had begun to glow a shimmering green and a faint twinkling hum was filling the command deck. It was nearly time. Anroc finished the last of his drink, some small pleasure salvaged from the otherwise disappointing day. Anroc: I don’t particularly care what you do at this point, but if you send that distress call and the corporation hears of it, I promise that death is the least terrible thing you have to worry about. With that, Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc stabbed at a jewel encrusted control on the throne's arm. The glow within the throne intensified until it was nearly blinding, then snapped out all at once. Anroc’s body, still rigid and imperious upon the throne, was vacant and dead. The light behind all six of his eyes had been extinguished. His exquisite clothing and priceless jewelry were now macabre ornaments on a rapidly cooling corpse. Nokzu: (Mumbling) Good riddance you skel’echt. Nokzu shoved the body of the ageless corpse off the mantle and pushed it to the side. She’d deal with it later. Taking a seat in the throne herself, the woman massaged the small horns on the back of her head as she contemplated what to do. The sound of a door opening made her look up as a colleague entered the command deck. The woman’s clothes were stained and had some small tears. Exhaustion could be seen on her face. Saulan: The breach on deck 23 is getting worse. They are trying to reinforce it but they don't know how much it will hold. Nokzu: Anroc is gone. Everything on this ship has already been written off as a loss for the corp. We’re on our own now. She leaned back in the massive and ornamented chair, the weight of her decisions now bearing down on her. Nokzu’s eyes flicked over the room as the rest of the command crew watched her. They all had families back home. She’d met many of them before they left so many years ago. Nokzu counted in her head and the numbers came easily to her as the welfare of each member of the crew was her responsibility. 897 widows, 142 orphans. That was the fallout of this ship not returning. Finally she turned back toward the engineer, a renewed strength filling her. Nokzu: Helm, set a course for planetoid Sigma 438, full burn. (Turning to the other side of the room) Operations, start calculating the fuel cost for our deceleration burn and landing on that rock. I need to know that we’ve got enough to make it. Turning back to the engineer, Nokzu blinked, not wanting to say what she had to. Nokzu: Saulan, if we lose too much fuel we’ll die for sure. We must seal that breach at all costs. At all costs. Do you understand? Saulan: They do their best. But I will try... to encourage them. :: His voice was tired and became more sinister at the end of the sentence. :: Nokzu: One more thing, old friend. It would take years for a message to get back to the homeworld. I know you’ve been working with radios your whole life. Is there anything you can do to get that signal out faster? Saulan: There is a theory, that by focusing a signal at a certain frequency in line with the Edge emissions can be accelerated. Although we do not fully understand how. The problem is that it would have to be focused on, and hopefully bounce back to the home planet. Nokzu: We’ve got nothing else to lose. Try. It’s our only hope we have to see our families again. Saulan: I will configure the emitter. Give me a moment. Before the disaster Saulan would be excited to try something like this. If it worked, her name could be on the patent, and she could find a comfortable position in the organization's colleges. Now it was a simple act of desperation. Saulan sat at the communications console and was reconfiguring the emitter matrix to do what they wanted. He had to stop a couple of times to talk to the executive section chief of rapid maintenance, so that they could repair the breach. Nokzu watched the man work for a moment before turning back toward the rest of the bridge crew. They’d heard the exchange with Anroc. They all understood the cost of calling out for help. Nokzu turned the decision over in her mind several times and for a couple of minutes they all worked in silence. A silence she finally broke. Nokzu: As soon as you’re ready, Saulan, send the distress call. Saulan: Ready. Sending the signal. There, trapped by the manyfold intersecting layers of nebular gasses and exotic subspace fields, The Endless Golden Penetrator shouted past the Edge of known space. No one knew what lay beyond the Edge, and all expeditions to penetrate it over the millennia had come to the same inglorious end. As the Penetrator sent out its desperate call for an unlikely rescue, the fields of the nebula briefly attenuated and massively amplified the signal. Distorted but intact, the message tumbled through subspace, echoing far beyond the Edge and outward, into a region of space that Federation astronomers would call ‘The Gamma Quadrant.’ [Fin] ========================== Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc Owner & Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting & Magnificent V239509GT0 & Nenni Chu’To’Lem’Ri Nokzu Acting Shipmaster Endless Golden Penetrator E239702WG0 & Saulan Ket’han Deputy Director of Daily Operations Endless Golden Penetrator E239702S10 =========================

Where we get to see a bit more of Sobok as well as our beloved Chief Engineer, @Sirok. The title itself just conveys a lot, and I love it. ((USS Thor, Main Engineering)) Several crew members performed their usual tasks of inspection and maintenance of the different systems. They were illuminated by the blue light of the bending engine that emitted its characteristic hum, which reached the whole ship. The chief engineer worked on the holographic table, visualizing the data from the ship's systems. Checking for any irregularities. For some it would be a tedious job, for Sirok it was an opportunity to be methodical, to sort out his own thoughts while taking care of the ship's own systems. His concentration was interrupted by the sound of the communicator. Larell: =/\=Lieutenant, a civilian has arrived from New Bajor, he says he wants to see you. He says his name is Sobok. =/\= Sirok looked away from the holographic table , just before turning it off. Sirok: =/\=On my way. =/\= Larell: =/\=Understood. =/\= ((USS Thor, Transporter room 1)) Sirok entered the transporter room. And he found Larell talking to a very old Vulcan. His complexion was dark and hairless, even in his eyebrows. His back was already slightly crooked and he was wearing a traditional light-colored robe that was very well made. He supported part of his weight on a simple black cane. Larell: With this type of coils we improve the stability of the transporter buffer. ::She happily explained to the hieratic Vulcan, who listened to her carefully. :: Sirok: Live long and prosper, Sobok :: He said it in standard in deference to Larell. :: The old Vulcan turned around, excusing himself with his hand to Larell because he could no longer hear his explanation. Sobok: Live long and prosper... :: Sobok looked at the engineer's neck. :: Liutenant Sirok. Sirok: I was not expecting his visit, although he is welcome. Miss Larell, do you know if he has any assigned quarters? :: Since Teller decided to call him Chief Sirok, he avoided using ranks with his NCOs to avoid confusion, not out of disrespect. :: Larell: Ehm, yes sir. ::The young Boslic woman approached her console. :: One of the quarters on deck 13. We have already sent his luggage there, would you like someone to call to accompany him? Sirok: No Miss Larell, I will do it. ::He looked her straight in the eye. ::Good job. Larell: Thank you, sir. :: He responded with a slightly disconcerting tone. :: Sobok attended the conversation without saying anything, calmly observing how the two Thor crew members behaved. Sirok: I will show you your quarters, come with me. Sobok nodded and started to walk towards the door, stopping for a moment in front of the transporter chief. Sobok: That was a great explanation, Larell. I expect we will meet again. :: In spite of the monochordic tone of voice, it seemed to have a certain warmth. :: After his farewell, he walked leaning on his cane in the direction of the door, following the engineer. Sirok was waiting for him in his usual hieratic posture, when Sobok arrived where he was, he began the march towards the turbolift. Sobok: I see you trying to use my advice to deal with beings driven by their feelings. Sirok: I try to do it but it is not always successful. Larell is an example, I have been told that they must get used to my leadership style. Sobok: This is partly true, but we cannot impose logic on them. For many of them their minds are not able to function as they should. They are attached to their feelings. So to function well, as officers we must adapt. Satisfy them to their feelings so that they give the best of themselves. Sirok: It is not like lying? Sobok: Acting, not lying. It is part of your job as an officer. If you were a technician and only dealt with the machine or enjoyed a crew that entirely followed logic, it would not be necessary, but part of your job is to make them work well, as a team. Authority helps, but it is not the only way. They both walked through the corridors, occasionally crossing with some crew member, surprised to see an old Vulcan walking with the robotic chief engineer. Sobok: You have been promoting very fast, more than I have in my day. So you will have to adapt faster than I did. But if you have made it this far at this speed, you can do it. I have heard about your Captain, he is a reputable man, many officers who have served under him have had brilliant careers. You can trust his judgment. Sirok nodded as they entered the turbolift, Sobok had been a Captain for many, many years, making him a reliable source. Sirok: Deck 13. May I ask what you do in the Gamma Quadrant? Sobok: I try to help your father establish new business deals to get more resources for the Romulan colonies in Vulcan. They said there were opportunities on New Bajor, but as you know, there are not. Sirok: Unfortunately, they are a clear example of why Surak's teachings are so important. :: He knew that their experience might not be a sufficient sample of all of New Bajor, but given the problems they had had it did not seem very misguided. ::But that does not explain why you have boarded the Thor. Sobok: I know its new direction and it is close to where I have to go. In addition I can update my knowledge and of course, know your status first hand. Sirok: That last was not necessary. The turbolift doors opened, revealing the corridor on deck 13. Sobok: On the contrary. Wisely, you ask for my advice because of my experience, but to give accurate advice I must know the context, which variables affect a situation. No matter how much you try to describe it, it is not the same as experiencing it, the same reason we explore space in person, we do not just send a probe. Sirok could not argue with Sobok's logic. They continued to walk to the rhythm of old Vulcan. Sirok: The head doctor is Vulcan, Doctor Alieth, maybe she can do something for your hip. Sobok: It is already more mechanical than biological, but you still cannot fight time. But it is true that every doctor believes he has the ultimate solution to a particular problem, if she wants to see me I will not stop her. They arrived at the quarters' door, which opened when they detected Sobok's bio-signal, for which it had already been configured. Sobok stood at the door and watched. Sobok: I would almost have preferred a smaller quarters, this is almost three times the size of the Captain's cabin in an Excelsior class. Excessive for my needs. Sirok: Is a standard guest cabin in a Vesta class. And it is unoccupied, if necessary for some personality surely the Captain would appreciate your willingness to change to another quarter. Sobok nodded, agreeing with the young engineer and went into the room. The quarters were mainly illuminated by the light of the star bouncing off the surface of New Bajor. It was a large room, with a small living room, a work table and not visible from the entrance was the bedroom and bathroom. Sobok: I am tired, I have had many meetings in New Bajor. But during the trip we must resume some conversation. Sirok: I am learning to meditate better and better, it will not be necessary. Sobok: Your life depends on it. And you begin to be a respected Starfleet officer. Something can be done. In any case, we will not discuss it today. Let me rest. See you tomorrow, Sirok. Sirok: See you tomorrow, grandfather. ((End Scene for Sirok)) -- ==================== Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10

A JP between one of our newer members @Brutus and a well established member @Sirok that I thoroughly enjoyed. ((USS Ra - Leaving DS9)) The orders for Ensign Jehe were not the most usual. Picking up a civilian from DS9 to take him to New Bajor. Her passenger was an old Vulcan. The man even used a cane, denoting that despite all the Federation's medical advances time reaches everyone, even the long-lived Vulcans. He wore a simple tunic, but the fabric and the small embroidery he wore with words in Vulcan denoted a great quality in his craftsmanship. He presented himself simply as Sobok and his speech, though monotone, was not as uncomfortable and flat as that of other Vulcans. Jehe Saja had encountered a few Vulcans during her time at the Academy, and had found the species, as a whole, to be somewhat the opposite of her own. Bajorans were often known for fiery tempers and Vulcans kept a close reign on their emotions, tighter than any other species she had met to date. But at the same time, she’d seen glimpses of Vulcan spiritualism, that allowed her to believe that perhaps, they weren’t so different as she might like. Thus, when facing the elder Vulcan who would accompany her to her new posting, she greeted the opportunity as just that: an opportunity. She had kept her own introductions just as brief,as she’d resisted the urge to adjust the black collar of her uniform, denoting her position within the auspices of Starfleet Intelligence. He asked Jehe to take his things inside the Runaboat, so that he could walk more easily. Once they started the trip the Vulcan did not go to the living area, but chose the co-pilot's seat. He left his cane on the chair and relaxed his arms on the armrests. He didn't say anything, his gaze reminded him of a Starfleet flight instructor. Every time Jehe introduced a command into the console the man seemed to judge every little decision, or it was simply the severe look of a Vulcan, even though he had no eyebrows. Sobok: I know that on the new maneuver thrusters it is less necessary but if you adjust the ... :: He brought one of his hands close to the panel and quickly introduced several adjustments to the maneuvering drive, but without executing them. :: But you are the pilot today. Jehe: oO Well, looks like I am learning something today Oo Jehe: Thank you, sir. ::She reached forward, re-entering the commands herself, so that she would be familiar with them, and punched the execution:: While I have shuttle pilot training, it’s not my primary vocation. Sobok: You can always learn more. And in Starfleet, getting as much knowledge as possible will help you better accomplish your mission. Even if you think it is not your specialty. Many officers are pigeonholed in their department rather than trying to be more complete. The man looked again into the blackness of space, trying to find with his eyes the place where the wormhole should open. Jehe: You sound like you speak from experience. Even as she spoke, Saja readjusted the approach of the runabout. She’d not been told anything about her passenger really, other than that he was seeking transport to New Bajor, and as she was going to her own assignment in orbit of that planet, she was tagged to escort him. She hardly minded, and in truth was working harder to repress her own near giddiness at getting to enter the Celestial Temple. After a small lapse of time the ship crossed the space that separated the station from the wormhole. Illuminating everything with a blue light. Sobok:Ensign, do you believe that prophets are gods? The question, though abrupt, was asked in the same instructive tone he had had moments before. For a long moment, the Bajoran did not respond, as the ship made its way closer to the aperture, to be guided into the swirling light. Saja forced herself to breathe and nodded her head, though she did not allow herself to look away. Jehe: I do, yes. At least, they meet most definitions of ‘gods’ that I have heard, and have been demonstrably active in the history of my people. ::She tilted her head and chuckled softly:: And my father is a Prylar. I’d be a rather poor daughter if I did not believe in the Prophets. Sobok: Interesting. :: He simply said, without trying to change the Bajoran's mind. The bushy haired intelligence officer nodded, and drew her attention back to her console as the runabout gave a shudder. They were approaching the event horizon of the wormhole, and Saja had to make some minor adjustments. Jehe: Compensating for spatial drift. I’m told the ride will be a bit bumpy. She didn’t outright say ‘maybe you should strap in’ but she thought it pretty hard. Sobok:Try to give some more energy to the inertial dampers, there has to be a configuration for the wormhole. ((USS Ra - Entering Bajoran Wormhole)) And then, they were inside the Celestial Temple, and it was all that Saja could do not to gape like a fish. As Sobok switched his gaze between the view from the front window and the instrument panels. Sobok:Is this the first time you travel through the wormhole? ::Sobok did not know if the runoboat came from the Thor, or if it came directly from DS9.:: Jehe: Yessir. Though I grew up on Freehaven, one of the Bajoran colonies, I’ve never had the chance to experience this before. ::She had made the adjustments suggested and the flight evened out, as her head slowly turned side to side, taking in the truly alien vista before them:: And you? Sobok: No, although I had a first officer. Rashur Sul, who often insisted that we try to get closer. But Bajor and the Wormhole was far from our area of operation. It is certainly an interesting experience. The Vulcan was slightly incorporated and carefully observed the data on the console. Alternating with the immensity of blue before them. Sobok: Soon after, the war with the Klingons began and immediately after with the Dominion. She was no longer my first officer after that. Jehe: I didn’t realize you served. I apologize. They didn’t really brief me on my passenger. ::She frowned for a moment.:: I was born during the conflict. I can’t say that I remember much of it at all, just stories from my family. The ship finished its transit through the wormhole. The interior of the ship was once again illuminated only by its own light. In the pilot’s seat, Saja began a series of system checks to confirm that there had been no issues with the runabout. Her pulse was still racing from the trip through the Temple. It had been magnificent - even if only only looked at it from a purely secular viewpoint. Sobok: It was interesting. The old vulcan took his cane and with the help of it and the armrest he stood up. Sobok: Do you need help for the rest of the trip? Otherwise I will try to rest a little. I have a lot to do in the New Bajor. Jehe: I should be fine sir. Please, take all the rest you need. I’ll notify you when we’re on our final approach. The old Vulcan nodded in what might have seemed like gratitude. But to nod was to show a feeling, he had simply nodded to imply that he understood what the ensign had said. True, the old Vulcan knew that some people confused the two facts. And that begins guided by their feelings felt better in the presence of such emotional displays. So the old Vulcan did not take them out of their error. The ship traveled for a few hours in warp until it reached New Bajor. Following standard procedure it went to impulse as it approached the system. From space, it could still see some ravages caused by the blight. Although some improvement was already visible since the arrival of Thor. The Ra continued to approach the planet's orbit, but on its trajectory it passed near its mother ship, the Thor. Illuminated by the planet, it shone with its characteristic blue color of its hull and its slender form. Sobok observed it from one of the windows when they passed near it. The Vulcan returned to the command module. Sobok: I have loaded the coordinates of my meeting point on the transporter, Ensign. Your mission is over. Jehe: Very well, sir. ::She rose to accompany him to the transporter pad.:: If you’ll step up here. Sobok: Live long and prosper, Jehe Saja. :: He said by raising his hand and making the characteristic greeting of his culture. :: Energize. Jehe: ::Carefully approximating the gestures:: Peace and Long Life, Sobok. Lowering her hands, she activated the transporter sequence and watched as the eldarly Vulcan whom ahd been her passenger for the duration of the trip vanished in the familiar swirl of blue white motes, leaving behind an empty pad. Jehe: oO I hope he finds what he was looking for. Oo With that, she returned to the conn and adjusted her course to take the runabout to it - and her - new home. ========================================= Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S1 & Ens. Jehe Saja Intelligence Officer USS Thor T239712JS0

Isn't that Wyn's job?

I just love the way Sheila sets this up.

I'm dying here.

Yet.

Sirok got ROASTED!

Ooooo, they're calling you out, @Geoffrey Teller!

Sirok, the second cutest Vulcan on the Thor!

I've been waiting eagerly for the final installment of this series of sims by the Thor's own @Alex Brodie, and he did not disappoint. He really knows how to engage the reader and I can really relate not only to his main character, Brodie, but to all the others he writes into the story. Well done! IC: ((USS Loki, Approaching Moon ‘Solace’)) Alex woke as the sensors chimed denoting his arrival at a safe distance – he hoped the situation on the ground would be better than what he was looking at on the monitor. He stretched from his seat and walked back to the replicator – keying in a few commands. Brodie: White coffee, Sumatran blend. It was strange. The horrific scenes in the slipstream had shown the very best in people, the political intrigues on New Bajor had shown the very worst. Everything seemed a little upside-down. The mug materialised in the opening and the smell filled the air. It had been a few day’s journey but now he was on this side of the wormhole it was simply a chance he couldn’t not take, although it might be the last chance he took. It had taken a while to get the appropriate permissions and authorisations but here he was...the console cut through the silence as he sipped his drink. LCARS: Warning. Target lock acquired. He hopped forwards and opened a comm. channel to the satellite that had targeted the Loki. His fingers skittered across the console as he input the authorization codes for the system. Only a handful of people had them and, as soon as they were transmitted, he erased them from the ship’s logs. Some things were just too risky to let out. The shuttle slipped between the gap in the orbital net and began its descent to the surface. He wondered what he would find there? He’d read the reports but a lot can change in nearly two decades…although in some ways a great many things would have stayed the same. The first thing that struck him, as the cloud cover broke, was the landing pad – so far, a good sign. He had rather expected a flattened piece to rough ground but it seemed there were elements of infrastructure. He didn’t think that there would have been many visitors to this area. The Loki touched down as gently as he could manage – having not landed a shuttle since the academy…and even then, only a handful of times. He opened the munitions locker and took one of the protective vests from inside and slipped it around his chest, pulling the straps tight. He didn’t like them but this was certainly a place where it was better to be safe than sorry. He pulled his field jacket over his shoulders and opened the door, lowering the exit ramp. It was a bright but cold day and the sun was low. He could just make out the figure walking towards him – unassuming, relaxed, like they had all the time in the world – which they did. Alex allowed himself some butterflies at the thought of what to say – it was a refreshing feeling - before deciding to keep it formal. He bowed slightly in greeting. Brodie: Eminence. ((Zone Of Mediation, Solace)) Alex awoke early as the sun blinkered through the window, dappled by the trees. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from a prison – but it wasn’t this. The door wasn’t locked and, after having dressed, he walked down the corridor towards a communal room that had been set aside. As he walked in some heads turned…but not many and, as he saw the faces, there were more expressions of confusion and…was that a little fear. He smiled, though not openly, from what he’d heard about the Ennis and Nol-Ennis but he hadn’t expected them to appear so…alike. It reminded him of an old song ‘One Tin Soldier’ the mountain and the valley people fighting over a supposed treasure – and all the pain that brought. He wondered if the two factions even recalled what they were even fighting over? He took some fruit and a bowl of what tasted like sugared oats and took a seat at the rear of the room – not deliberately watching but making sure he had everyone in his field of vision. This place was still a prison and if anything happened to him here then…well…he’d be stuck there. He wouldn’t mind so much but Garcia would certainly want to get the Loki back. It was a testament to the work that had been going on here that they were able to mix so freely and without incident, although he was led to believe that not everyone shared or appreciated the attempt at a more peaceful philosophy. That said, it was still standing nearly two decades later…but then what would they do…kill them? He wondered about this place, a planetary prison – a prison without bars; although it did have a sophisticated satellite defence system. He certainly appreciated the intention towards punishment but this was akin to torture. The violence was playing out, and perhaps – at first, there was a revelry on each side flying into an eternal battle with no sense of one’s own mortality. It seemed oddly Klingon – perhaps similar to Sto-vo-kor; he was unlikely to ever find out. There was a further fleeting thought, he wondered how Hannibal was getting on in his quest for the next battle? Back to the problem at hand, that was all well and good – teaching them that conflict was futile, a cycle doomed to repeat itself over and over until the end of time. And that was the issue, it never ended. How could there be any justice in this? There was no final punishment nor was there any chance at rehabilitation – the two peoples pushed aside as an inconvenience. Their people couldn’t reconcile them so they were shut away in this endless purgatory. Out of sight and out of mind…but it didn’t solve the problem. All that changed when she arrived though. It was odd that yet another death might be the start of something more progressive – they couldn’t leave, but perhaps they could grow. Perhaps they could find some sort of redemption…or maybe that was all wishful thinking? A bell tolled and the hall began to empty, their day had begun. He sat alone for a moment and then looked across the room to where Her Eminence now occupied the doorway, her eyes more alive than his – he hadn’t been able to find anything remotely resembling coffee. He stood in greeting. Sulan: Commander, good morning. Brodie: Good morning, Eminence Sulan: Please…there’s no need for formalities. Come, walk with me. It wasn’t a command, but strangely he didn’t feel anyone would ever refuse. It was simply a statement of how things were. The planet was still barren in the most part. The two walked along one of the paths that overlooked what had once been a battlefield but now was showing the literal green shoots of recovery as farmland – not that food was required but it gave structure and allowed cultivation of a less war-torn scenery. A group approached and nodded in greeting at his companion – standing little taller as they passed. Sulan: I’m not a leader, you know? Brodie: I think some of these people would beg to differ. Sulan: I brought a new perspective to this place…that was all…an alternative path. I can’t make anyone walk it, but I will assist any who wish to, or those who choose another. I’ve already seen enough violence to last a lifetime; even one as extended as mine. He'd thought about that already. He had read some of the reports but they were scant on detail – all he knew was they couldn’t leave. Brodie: Have you considered those who may wish to leave. You say it is no longer a prison but the satellite grid I came through would beg to differ. What of those who choose to end their lives by leaving - the Federation may be able to assist with that. The woman regarded him slowly, her expression slightly confused but still cheerful. Sulan: Would that not be a violation of the culture of this world though, Commander? She was right of course; the world had been designed to be a prison - by another culture. While they were aware of the galaxy out with their borders they were not, themselves, warp capable – at least not any more…the Prime Directive applied…at least at his level of authority. Brodie: I appreciate your point, Eminence, although I would say that does not sit well with my desire to provide care and ease suffering. Sulan: Who says anyone is suffering? Perhaps once, and perhaps some still, but when you have all the time then is anything truly a constant state? Brodie: I would not have been surprised if Sulan: Life is what you make of it, Commander…and when you have all the time in the world you can make of it whatever you want. Suddenly Brodie realised the point the woman was making. It wasn’t that time was never ending – it was the realisation that time simply did not apply. Time was still linear for the inhabitants of this world but without the restriction of being finite it didn’t matter – and that brought a freedom that he had a hard time comprehending. Brodie: So…you’re saying being bound here has made them free? Psychologically speaking I mean. Sulan: They always were, Commander, they just had to realise it. Now some have also realised they are not bound to keep fighting a futile war – they don’t have to be confined by their past. He thought on his own years…how true that was. Brodie: In that case I’d say they’re lucky to have you…not leading them on this path. She smiled. ((Landing Site, Solace, Gamma Quadrant)) All good things had to come to an end and, while this had been a short visit to this world it had felt longer than it was. He wondered if that was just a feeling he had or if it was another factor of the prison’s original design – which would have been especially cruel. Alex dropped his kit bag into the shuttle and returned to where his host was standing. Brodie: Thank you, Eminence, for your hospitality. This isn’t strictly allowed but I will ask, do you have any messages I can pass on to anyone. He had worried that thinking of a life past Sulan: No Commander, my son is gone, and I have no other blood family…looking back I wonder if I was already past my time. There was one thing I wanted to ask you, you mentioned there is a Bajoran colony on this side of the Celestial Temple? Brodie: That’s right, New Bajor. It would have been established not long after your arrival here. The Dominion destroyed it’s first incarnation, but it’s been re-established now. Sulan: So many now feel the touch of the Prophets in the Celestial Temple as I did? Brodie: Some, although perhaps not all appreciate the significance in the same way you did. Sulan: And the colony is well? Alex hesitated…he wondered if she’d been reading his draft mission report behind his back. He opted for something that was true…from a certain point of view. Brodie: It is – Governor Velos is an excellent administrator who cares deeply for her people. You’d be very proud. She reached up slightly and cupped his ear - checking his Pah. He allowed it, he was fairly sure after his time here he wasn’t in any danger in her company. Sulan: Your Pah is strong but…::unsure::…there is a darkness there, Commander… She was correct of course…there were more than a few shadows lurking in his past. Like those here, however, he’d been able to change his destiny – to some extent. Brodie: They’re a defence mechanism – of sorts. One must always guard against the darker side of one’s self, and that means you must acknowledge your own. Sulan: Just take caution not to become it…I have seen the damage a corrupted Pah can bring first-hand. Alex thought of Samara and her past, there were true horrors in the occupation – and beyond. Though he’d seen plenty of his own, both professionally and personally, he still heeded the caution in her words. Brodie: I believe there’s more good than bad in the universe, Eminence, besides the light shines brighter in the darkness. The sound of the comm sounding alerted him that the start-up routine on the shuttle was complete. It was time to go. Brodie: Farewell eminence, I would say stay safe but I’m not sure that applies here. ::He bowed slightly:: Prophets be with you and the blessings of Bajor be with you. Sulan: And also with you, Commander. He returned to the shuttle and began his accent…it all felt like some surreal dream until he encountered the perimeter in the low orbit. Keying in a few strokes, he set a course for the rendezvous with the Thor. FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

Welcome aboard! It's great to have you!

Oh Nijil, that's already happened. Wait...I probably shouldn't tell him that...

Who needs sugarplums when you have teacup targs?

*tries not to snort water through her nose while drinking as she reads this*

Jamie has this way of making me want to laugh and cry in the span of three minutes.

That's one heck of a brain!