Alora DeVeau

@Ashley Yael is on a roll tonight. ((Denobula - The City of Loxt on the Uvax Continent - 22 years ago)) Ashley watched with huge amethyst eyes as his mother threw the few things they needed into the pack in a fervent rush. She made sure to pack her identification, all the vital information she would need… or for Ashley… her computer, credentials. He clutched his favorite toy, the interactive talking lemur he carried around everywhere he went… Feazel the Lemur. He’d been a huge hit with the children for years, ever since the children's holo-series had been released. Ashley: Mommy, where are we going? Doctor Yael: Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re not going far. Ashley: Are you mad at daddy? She grimaced, and didn’t know how much to tell him. He was only seven and some months… would he be able to understand? Doctor: Yael: Yes, mommy’s mad at daddy. Ashley: Is it my fault? She set her blue eyes on her son, noting his wide-eyed, alarmed gaze. Swinging the pack over her shoulder, she made her way over to him and leaned down to lift him up into her arms, hugging him tight. Doctor Yael: No. No, *none* of this is your fault. It’s *my* fault, sweetie. She never should have stayed so long. It would have never gone this far if she had just left when she first thought she should. She carried her son out the door and made her way to the nearest public transporter. Doctor Yael: Hold on to Feazel, okay? Don’t let him go. Ashley wrapped the lemur in his arm tightly against his mothers neck, rustling her long blond waves. He didn’t understand what was happening, but even still, he could sense his mothers agitation… so naturally, he was afraid. Once the transporter had carried them close to where they needed to go, Doctor Lina Yael carried her son and the pack toward her destination. He was still small for his age, but she struggled under his weight as she rushed down the street. It was no run, but the walk was fast… if she didn’t cross the doorstep in time she might not be able to stop it happening. She arrived at the gate and stepped up to the processing window at the security shack, where a Human male sat at the computer, and looked up at her arrival. She offered him her identification without hesitation. Above their heads on the stone wall was a plaque. “Earth Embassy.” It was a branch offshoot, not the full embassy, but legally speaking it was Earth soil… which meant she would have the full protection and defense of Earth law. Security: Ma’am. What can I do for you. Doctor Yael: My name is Lina Yael, I’m a dual Denobulan-Earth citizen. I need legal assistance and safe lodging for myself and my son. The man began to process her request, checking her identification. The embassy was technically sovereign soil, as per their relationship and agreement with Denobula via their treaties. The information went through quickly and he was opening the gates when a private transport slid haphazardly into a parking space, the door popping open quickly. From the transport rose Deneve Phax, his eyebrow ridges furrowed in frustration. Doctor Deneve: LINA! What are you doing?! Doctor Yael: You’re NOT cutting into my son's brain. She pushed past the gate as soon as it was wide enough for her and Ashley to slip through, shoving the pack on her back awkwardly. When she crossed the threshold a wave of relief swept through her. Ashley nearly lost his hold on Feazel as it roughly brushed against the metal gate, but he held onto him with a tiny death grip born of fear, even as the mechanical speaker was activated by the pressure. Feazel: ::with pre-recorded cheer:: “Don’t eat my kidneys! I need those!” Doctor Deneve: It’s *just* a simple surgery! It could give him *years* free of the symptoms! Doctor Yael: A bilateral brain resection is *not* simple. That procedure has a 70% failure rate and causes just as many problems as it solves, Phax. You *knew” I wouldn’t consent to it, but you scheduled it anyway. WHY? Doctor Deneve: It’s what’s best for him. Doctor Yael: You wouldn’t know what was best for your son if it smacked you upside your bloated ego. You’re only thinking about *yourself.* You’re EMBARRASSED by him. Do you think your other wives don’t tell me what you say?! The Denobulan man angrily stepped up to the open gate only to have the Human guard step in front of him before he could pass it. Still, Lina took a defensive step back, her hold on her son tightening. She heard her son whimper near her ear, so she tried to ease her grip. Security: Sorry, sir. ::holding a hand up to stop him going further:: I can’t allow you to enter Earth Embassy grounds without the proper processing or legal representation. Deneve glared at the man, but stepped back, not wanting to cause an inter-species scene. But he still addressed his wife. Doctor Deneve: You’re being irrational. I have the right to handle basic medical care for my own son, Lina. Doctor Yael: You *don’t* have the right to *butcher* him. ::she glowered at him, the love she once felt for him clearly poisoned beyond repair:: I won’t let you do it. Doctor Deneve: This is *absurd.* ::trying to calm his tone and sound reasonable:: Just… come home. We’ll make dinner. We can *talk* about this. Doctor Yael: So you can badger me until I do what you want? Or pull him out of school and do it behind my back? NO, Phax. You’re not getting your way this time. Doctor Deneve: ::his patience disappearing:: It’s the right choice, damn it! He can be more *normal*, Lina. He can be symptom free for a decade longer! More normal. The blue eyed gaze she leveled on her husband was steely and ice cold. She turned on her heels as the security guard closed the gate, locking the Denobulan man outside and leaving him to watch his wife make fast feet toward the main facility. His son's amethyst eyes, filled with tears and wide with fright, set on him from across his mothers shoulder. He was silent in confused terror by his parents yelling, Feazel the Lemur still clutched tightly in his small hand. ************************ Doctor Deneve Phax Neurosurgeon & Father & Doctor Lina Yael General Surgeon & Mother & Ashley Deneve Yael Adorable Munchkin C238211TZ0

This hit home. ((Denobula - The City of Loxt on the Uvax Continent - 22 years ago)) The hospital thrived with activity, doctors and nurses abounding, students tagging along with their mentors like so many Denobulan turtle-ducks. The teaching hospital was the largest and one of the most esteemed in the Southern Continent, and was thus never “slow.” Patients from across the quadrant came to this hospital not just for the quality of treatment they would receive, but to be a part of the constant array of clinical trials and new drug testing that occurred year round. On the 56th level of the hospital was the neurology clinic. The two large bay doors opened into the ward directly from the four crystal clear elevators, each in a clear tube with a spectacular view of the tropical environment preserved despite there being a bustling city. The greenery and nature was a Denobulan necessity… nature provided the foundation for most of their scientific advancements, and thus they respected it… lived with it, rather than cementing the lot of it. Instead, they built *upwards.* One could be pestered by the famous Denobulan lemur in the arrival lot, or even on the roof of the extremely tall building, as the exterior was also prime climbing, with effort taken by the architects to include natures needs in the designs. Patients inside the building could witness an array of small warm-blooded animals climbing past the windows or launching off the bird sills from inside their rooms. Meanwhile, all the creature comforts you could want were included inside. Denobula was so tropical, in fact, that for the very longest time there was no concept of frozen water in their scientific records. It didn’t exist naturally on Denobula, and the discovery of it only happened after refrigeration technology was created. Nestled between three lovely stars in the system, the night on Denobula lasted a scant 3 hours… save for a single day per year where the stars eclipsed and total darkness fell for the full period of a single rotation. The short night cycle might explain why Denobulans needed little more than 4 hours sleep per rotation, and supplemented it with a hibernation cycle. But on that 56th level of the tapered skyscraper, the interior was clean and white, the smell of sterilizing cleanser the only remarkable scent. Neurology patients were ushered to their appointments as they arrived by those four large elevators, into the private offices. One of those offices belonged to Doctor Deneve Phax, lead neurological specialist for the ward and a renowned surgeon who was sought out for the most complicated of cases. He was in the middle of a massive clinical trial and the next several weeks would be filled with data searching patient reactions, as well as monitoring progress of the double-blind groups… the active agent, the placebo, and the control group. The clear elevator to the far left opened and a small purple haired Denobulan-Human hybrid burst into the room and past the reception desk. Ashley: ::waving:: Hi Miss Mat’ea! Nurse Mat’ea: ::smiling at the familiar child:: Hello, Ashley. Did you get taller again? Ashley: I’m two whole centimeters taller since last time! Nurse Mat’ea: Are you sure it isn’t three? The small child pushed at the large door into the workplace, barely able to move it by himself. In reality he was small for his age, but the nurse would never say so out loud. She used one hand high above his head to help him open the door, while letting Ashley think he’d done it himself. Lagging behind the energetic seven year old was a blond Human woman, his mother. A surgeon and general practitioner in her own right, they were on the search for her husband. Nurse Mat’ea: ::smiling and nodding respectfully:: Doctor Yael. Good to see you. Lina smiled at the woman as she followed through the doorway into the workplace, following her son. He knew the way to the office space, so there was little reason to slow him down. She could hear his voice from the hallway before she arrived in the right office. Ashley: Dad! Guess how many lemurs I saw today! Doctor Deneve: I imagine it’s a lot to justify this much *noise*. The bland response didn’t diminish the child's excitement. Ashley: Seventeen lemurs! A single eyebrow rose, the harsh tone lightening up ever so slightly. Doctor Deneve: That *is* a lot of lemur. Doctor Yael: ::stepping inside the office:: Hello sweetie. Deneve nodded to his wife, having expected her to not be far behind their son. Doctor Yael: We’ve hardly seen you this week. Ashley missed you. Ashley: Daddy can I cut out a brain pleeeeeeaase? His father snorted with a well contained edge of humor, while his mother laughed lightly. Doctor Yael: He wants to be *just* like you, you know. Ashley: I’ve studied *lots!* I know what a thasalmus is now. Doctor Deneve: ::with a hint of a smile, then dryly:: Alas, none of my patients need their *thalamus* removed today. Ashley busied himself looking through the texts on a nearby shelf, but only the ones on the shelf he could reach of course. Doctor Deneve: Don’t make a mess. Lina frowned at her husband. She knew he wouldn’t be happy to be interrupted, but in truth it had been two weeks since the man had spent a spare moment at home. Denobulans were notoriously patient when it came to this sort of thing, this was true. But *she* was Human and her son half so, and they *missed* him. Deneve knew this full well, but it no longer seemed to register as something that was important… even though it had used to. In fact, she was starting to question the whole marriage. She was still trying to make it work for the sake of her son… the son the Denobulan man seemed less than interested in. She’d never imagined he would be such a *gruff* father, or so absent. Denobulans were so family oriented, after all. She’d heard the gossip in the rest of the family. Deneve’s second wife had had a frank conversation with Lina about the things he would tell her… the Denobulan woman was concerned, so shared out of that concern. She’d told Lina that he was increasingly annoyed at his Human wife’s lack of interest in having more children yet. But it was how he treated his *existing* son that stopped her doing so… she also knew what he’d said about Ashley. That their son was a genetic dead end. And she was having trouble reconciling her feelings for the man, more so every day... and if she were to have more children, there was a statistically relevant risk they would also have Theoron's Disorder. Could she have more children knowing the man wouldn't bond with them if they weren't perfect? She could feel the hypospray in her pocket. The one filled with the daily required medication her son had to take. It was handy to keep on person, in case of a worsening day or an accident that caused a surge in symptoms, but thankfully he was mostly symptom free… he’d been medicated since he was diagnosed in utero. The hypo-spray was a cruel but realistic representation of her sons limitations in life, but he was still too young to understand what it really meant… so she carried the weight for him, wanting him to have as much of an innocent childhood as she could supply for him. She never failed to smile at how many lemurs he counted through the windows. At how excited he was about *everything* he saw. At how proud he was when he learned what a “thasalmus” was. And it pained her every time he cried because he missed his father. Or told her he wanted to be just like daddy and help people's brains get better. Still, she tried to facilitate the strong familial connection, and pushed for them to spend time together. If Deneve could just take a moment and *see* his son, imagine for just a moment who he could grow to be, maybe it could still work... Because she could see the unfortunate failures where her innocent son could only see love and joy. And she was starting to wonder what Ashley would think of the frozen mountains of her home back on Earth, the glaciers and wildlife of Alaska. It was a place you either loved or hated… and it was a vast departure from the tropics of Denobula. Ashley pulled a large text off the shelf, having some trouble with the weight of the tomb before plopping down onto the floor and rifling through the book for interesting pictures. Doctor Yael: I know how *busy* you are, dear. But I hoped you could spare time for lunch with your son. Doctor Deneve: I can’t. Large amethyst eyes looked up from a book illustration of the Denobulan spinal cord. Ashley: Mommy, I’m really hungry. Doctor Yael: I know, sweetie. We’re getting lunch soon. ::pausing:: Please, Phax? The sauted lemur kidney at the cafe on the corner is to die for, and I know you haven’t had a non-replicated meal in weeks. The same lemurs climbing the walls of the hospital also happened to be a delicacy. Another reason to bolster a healthy population, as Denobulans were largely carnivorous in nature. Doctor Deneve: Hmm… ::he paused, finally tempted:: Fine. But just a quick lunch. The family stepped out of the office area and toward the crystal clear lift doors. The small purple tinted boy lifted a hand to take the hem of his fathers coat, his other hand clasped in his mothers fingers. He was ecstatic his father was coming. Ashley: Can I have lemur kidneys too? Doctor Yael: Oh? How many lemur kidneys do you think you can eat? Ashley: I can eat *five!* Doctor Yael: ::feigning shock:: Five?! That’s almost three whole lemurs worth of kidneys! Doctor Deneve: ::glancing down:: Isn’t that a rather *adult* meal for him? Doctor Yael: It’s a special treat. He’s been looking forward to seeing you. The small Denobulan-Human hybrid tugged on his fathers coat, huge amethyst eyes gazing up at the much taller Denobulan. Ashley: Daddy? How many lemur kidneys can *you* eat? Inwardly, Lina hoped Phax knew not to say any more than five, since her son would try and force them down until he matched any number his father said. Doctor Deneve: I think I might top out at four myself. Small favors, Ashley’s mother sighed in relief, smiling as they walked out into the heat. Nobody wanted a food-sickened seven year old barfing up hot lemur kidneys everywhere. ************************ Doctor Deneve Phax Neurosurgeon & Father & Doctor Lina Yael General Surgeon & Mother & Ashley Deneve Yael Adorable Munchkin C238211TZ0

Welcome to the chaos, my darling! 😘

((‘The Junction’, deck 223, Deep Space 224. The Borderlands)) The petite Vulcan doctor breathed lightly on the surface of her drink before she took a tentative sip. The thick, hot drink burst into a sugary explosion in her mouth, and then descended down her throat, warming her up like the sun of her home planet. Of course, the drink was not only comforting, but had the quality of altering the Vulcan biochemistry, which suited her after the LONG road she had needed to travel to reach the Borderlands’... border. Arguably, in the canteens at the top decks, primarily staffed by Starfleet personnel and Federation civilians, her drinking choices would have raised a few eyebrows. But down there, in a secluded corner of the lower decks, the Klingon waiter attending to the tables didn't bat an eyelid. And much less the patrons, an amalgam of unruly civilians who were largely minding their own business. Or they just slept it off in a corner, too plastered to care about anything. Alieth tucked into the dark hood that obscured her features and settled down for a second shot when a whistle distracted her. The smudged and rusty pub door swung open, and revealed an old familiar face that she had not seen for a long time. Alieth: Meimei! Sirin: Alieth ::smirking slightly:: I see you have found yet another unique place for us to meet. Alieth: I know you are fond of interesting places, therefore I have just provided you the most fascinating place that I have found. The statement was delivered in a flat, pragmatic tone, still there was a mischievous gleam in the young Vulcan's eyes and the tiniest sketch of a smile danced for an instant on her lips. Meidra nodded to the waiter, muttering her drink order in Klingon. If he was surprised, he said nothing, only growling in response before going to get her beverage. She sat across the table from her cousin, and gave the usual Vulcan greeting, and received the usual response. Sirin: It has been too long, krei. Tell me, how is life on the Thor? Are you keeping everyone logical? Alieth: Indeed just too long. And about the Thor’s crew... ::Shaking her hand gently:: It is an unachievable endeavour, most of them are just a hopeless case. Amusement flared in the counselor’s eyes as she well understood her cousin’s wry humor. She took a long drink from her flask, pondering if she could convince the waiter to refill it for her before she and her favorite krei went exploring. She put in back into a pocket and patiently waited for her actual drink to arrive. Meanwhile, the doctor took a brief sip of her drink before she answered, her eyebrows knitted over her eyes. Alieth: Otherwise things on the Thor have been reasonably calm. We took part in a coup d'état, prevented an ecological disaster and only the Captain was about to lose his life because of a hitman. Compared with our previous missions, the ship has no extra holes and, aside from Fleet Captain Kells, most of the crew is in good condition. A truly uneventful mission for Starfleet. A few months ago her answer would have been vastly different, as a connoisseur of quiet and routine as she was. Nevertheless, routine seemed to have taken on unexpected forms since she had graduated from the Academy. And she had embraced it. It was a disturbing realization. Alieth: So how was everything at the Resolution? We spoke briefly at your previous shoreleave, yet I have heard hardly anything from you since then. Meidra: This shore leave has been different from the last. I did go to a holodeck, but this time it was not to fight my grandfather’s image. I was invited to participate in a ::searching for right words:: a mystery solving game. It was entertaining. She told her cousin how Ensign Yalu had created a dead body for her amusement, and the two shared a grin. The waiter flung down her drink with an appropriate insult which Meidra matched as she slammed her fist on the table. After a moment, both she and the waiter laughed, and he gave Meidra a swift salute before leaving to serve other patrons. Alieth: That is a novelty, were you able to perform an autopsy on the victim's body? ::Alieth became silent for a short while before she answered herself. :: You know, just do not tell me and send me the program, I am sure Mister Greaves will appreciate it too. Alieth: What about your last mission? According to what I heard you were in a diplomatically delicate situation. Sirin: We were asked to intervene between a peace loving society and the Klingons. Thankfully, no blood was spilled. To be honest, I do not believe the Klingons assigned to the mission truly wanted to be there. It was most confusing in a way. ::smiles:: although our First Officer certainly put them in their place. The tiny Vulcan took another quick sip of her cocoa and leaned forward, resting elbows on her knees. The short motion prompted a maverick lock of hair slipped out of her tight ponytail, which Alieth wasted no time placing it back behind one of her pointy ears. Sirin: I have a slight appreciation for Klingons after seeing them again on our latest mission. They have a fascinating way of twisting logic to serve their agenda. ::Looks around:: I had thought you would have brought your ….what are you calling him again? Your BFF? The one trapped in a human male? The Vulcan woman almost choked on her drink as a green shade rose to her cheeks and dyed the tips of her ears. Alieth: As much as I would have appreciated the chance to introduce you to my closest friend Sern, making so bringing here that troublemaker human in whom he currently resides would have been a highly... improper situation to say the least. :: An image of her ginger superior officer flashed into her mind and Alieth hastened to take another swig to hide the expressions that crept up her face. Alieth: No, that would be actually a TERRIBLE idea. What about you? Last time we talked I thought you said you were interested in establishing a close relationship with someone, a human male? How they call it… ‘Dating him’ The small counselor rolled her eyes. Dating, for lack of a better word, was not something Meidra did. She’d had a few intense encounters before joining StarFleet, but they weren’t the type of men (or women) she’d bring to a family dinner. Aeson was a distraction from admitting that she felt something for another officer. She would never admit who it was, maybe not even to herself. She would admit to a certain loneliness at times. But she didn’t need to say it out loud. Alieth’s expression told her that much. Sirin: I’m not sure what I have to offer anyone. Hey, ni’hin person, um...jabwl’, waiter person. Another bloodwine. Then a Vulcan brandy chaser. Alieth: Another cocoa for me, black, without sugar, 50ºC. Once the burly Klingon had taken their orders (mumbling something about Vulcans who thought they knew his job better than he did), Alieth looked back to her relative's eyes. Her hieratic expression had somehow softened and her eyes gazed warmly at Meidra. Alieth: You know you have a lot to share with a bondmate Meidra, even if you try hard to hide it. You carry the best traits of our family after all. Alieth's gaze glistened with mischief a split second before she added. Alieth: This is quite an achievement for an overly emotional hybrid like yourself, if you ask me. Sirin: Yes, you make it sound logical. ::sighing:: I have not eaten since morning meal. Chasing ghosts works up an appetite. Even if they are holograms. ::looks at Alieth:: after dinner we should walk around a bit and see what this station has to offer. It’s rare to see you, we should strive to create pleasant memories. Meidra knew her tolerance for alcohol was far more than most of the clientele here. But she was a bit hungry. The Klingon waiter came back to get their food order, and place their next round of drinks on the table. Alieth: ::With a slightly tipsy voice:: All right, let's toast and have an end meal later and let find what this station has to offer us. Sirin: An appropriate plan of action, krei The minute Vulcan raised her mug, such that a few drops of thick, black liquid fell on the table. She remained in that position for a moment, while her brain struggled to find something appropriate to say Alieth: For the old friendships and those that we are building, for those we met and those we will eventually meet. And that wherever our paths take us, we will always find refuge from the sandstorms in each other. [[TBC]] OOC: krei → (vulcan) female relative descended from siblings of parents or earlier line of descent ni’hin → (Vulcan) bar, pub jabwl’ →(Vulcan) waiter ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator Trainee ================================= & Ensign Meidra Sirin Counseling Officer USS Resolution R239707MS0

OOC: I really relished the opportunity to see more of Prudence Blackwell - and of course, Ashley. ((Starbase 118 Ops - Habitat Ring)) Ashley was making his way to the Consumer Sector for some socializing in his off time. He’d changed out of his uniform and into something sporty. Black leggings, trainers with a white slash on the sides, and a stylishly washed out gunmetal grey v-neck t-shirt with three-quarter sleeves. One didn’t need to dress to the hilt to visit Verriars Bar, after all, and it was getting somewhat late. He expected the Tongo Wheel would be spinning loud by now. Stepping onto the turbolift, he turned to face the doorway as it closed and clasped his hands behind him, as he was prone to do. Yael: Consumer District. Verriars. The electro-stabilizing gloves he wore were no longer hidden… he would normally wear full sleeves, self-consciously, but he was getting better about not worrying about it as he got used to wearing them. The turbolift stopped not far along to allow another rider on, and he momentarily set his amethyst eyes on the person who entered the lift. Rue was dressed for relaxation, frivolity, and entirely unprofessionally - but at the same point, she was still modest. She wore a long skirt made of a soft fabric, with pockets - a utility that Rue refused to go without, soft flat shoes and a long sleeved shirt. Blackwell::Rue had done some shopping herself. She didn’t attempt to accumulate material goods as a habit - but she did like meaningful things. Trinkets. And she liked to see what the different districts would bring as potential momentos from different cultures. Treasures and the like. She had found a few items - a new shawl for wearing when she was off duty, and a necklace, that she carried in a bag. She stepped into the lift and gave a genial grin:: Hello, there. Thanks for holding the lift” Yael: Good evening, Lieutenant. No problem. The Denobulan hybrid nodded politely and smiled that oh-so-cheerfull Denobulan smile at the Human who stepped onto the turbolift, and stepped slightly aside for her to board comfortably. He didn’t recognize her, but had the passing thought that the cropped haircut she sported was very flattering… and she was *shorter* than him! Almost nobody was, so he definitely noticed when they were. Blackwell: ::She smiled to the Denoulan with a bright smile herself. Rue ws intensely used to being shorter than just about everyone, and so she didn’t note the surprise he had. She did offer a warm hand to him:: I’m Prudence Blackwell, and you are? He didn’t reach out his hand, avoiding the contact, though his smile remained. He was about to politely explain he doesn't shake hands, give her his name, when the lift started to move again to take them each to their destination in the closest order, and there was a moment of quiet among the occupants as they waited. But it was only a moment… the lights flickered. Ashley glanced upward instinctively to look at the lights, but there was a sudden jerk. He was thrown to his left… or rather, the lift jerked to the right… throwing him right into the Human next to him, and into the wall. As they chatted, Rue was quietly aware of an nearly indistinct shift in the lift. She was sensitive to the rhythms and the workings of both space station and the ship. However, she had nary a chance to comment on something being strange when the lights blinked, and then all was a heave to the right, the left, and then she was on the floor of the lift with a Denublian in her lap. She gasped a bit, eyes wide as she looked to Ashley, her brow furrowed in stew of confusion, worry, concern, and some embarrassment, sprinkled with relief that she was able to break his fall. And then she heard a creak. And her mouth opened. Then the lift plummeted. It fell just long enough to put them into the air and allow them to free-fall before the safeties slammed into gear, stopping the lift from falling any further, at which point they unceremoniously crashed onto the floor. The Denobulan cursed beneath his breath as he caught his breath and found himself sprawled on the floor, rather ungracefully and atop the Lieutenant. His midsection draped across hers, his arm draped across her arm... and he jerked away as quickly as he realized they were in direct contact, but the anxiety that the lift wasn’t stable took precedence. He pushed up onto his palms and his amethyst eyes shot to the Human in the lift, hoping she wasn’t injured. He thought he was alright, but that had been quite the sudden ride. As Inertia floated them above the floor, Rue had the brief thought that it was not the drop that was frightening - it was that sudden stop at the end. And in this case, as physics combined in a hilarious fashion to bring the floor to them rather than they go to the floor. And there was a thud. Oh. Rue had promised herself no injuries on this shore leave, and it seemed that was a promise she was going to break - but at least it was not her ribs, which were instead, from what she could tell, bruised. She barely noticed Yael moving quickly away to avoid the awkwardness of draping himself over her, sitting up and rubbing her ribs. Yael: Are you okay? Blackwell: I am, are you? That’s not a normal function of the lift, I assure you of that. ::She frowned and stood up, wishing she had her PADD with her. Instead, she would have to make due with a bit of wits and intuition. She stood up, offering her hand to help him up as well, and looked towards the panel.::: Yael: Perhaps… we should notify someone. Blackwell::She rubbed her side and grinned:: Likely, but in the mean time let me see if I can figure out what is happening. Do you want to comm someone while I look? ::she moved over to the panel, taking her hands off her side::: Of course, the computer would already be alerting the proper persons of the malfunction. These things did happen on such a large station. It was as Rue touched the panel that she was suddenly aware her hands were shaking. She wasn’t normally so...easy to startle, but the adrenaline was up. Her body was simply responding to that. She shook her head, took a breath, and opened the panel. And then... The lights suddenly flicked off, and they were plunged now into the darkness. Thankfully an emergency light blinked to life a few moments after… but not before Ashley cringed, having expected another drop to happen. Blackwell:::Her heart was pounding in her cheat, a hard beat that was in her ears. She took a deep breath, pressing her hand on the wall of the lift and closing her eyes, her back towards Yael:: Seems like...we are okay. Yael: Thankfully… it seems to be holding steady, for the moment. Though he had a firm grip on the wall just in case… not that it would guarantee their safety, but he felt more stable as his eyes adjusted quickly to the low light. Blackwell: Yeah ::She exhaled and turned, looking to Ashley and gave a half grin:: What is your name? I’m afraid I didn’t catch it in the plummeting. Yael: Ensign Counselor Yael. ::pausing:: Ashley. Blackwell: It is nice to meet you, Ashley ::She offered a hand to shake. It was there she noticed the gloves, and momentarily hoped that she had not walked right into a gaffe:: Yael: It’s okay… ::he tried to smile through the nerves::... I don’t shake hands. Nothing personal, I promise. Blackwell:: I think I managed to bruise a rib or two..nothing worrisome. ::She then took a moment to consider the lift:: But this should not have happened, and we should have had a contact by now. Yael: Are you an engineer? ::noticing now her attention to the panel:: Perhaps we could notify them directly. Blackwell:::She considered for a moment. Turbolifts worked through the power of alternating electrical currents that allowed the lift itself to ascend and descend. It could break if power was out, if there was a breech in the lines, faults in the channels carrying the currents - there were numerous possibilities. And what was frustrating was that likely the fault was - external- rather than internal to the lift:: Which meant barring her doing something reckless, they were for the moment, stuck. Blackwell::She hit her comm badge and frowned for a moment as the chirp did not seem to connect. Another clue, and another frustration. Something was jamming the signal. It could very well be the disruption in the current. She exhaled and looked to Yael:: We may be here for a while… Yael: ::trying his comm badge, which chirped strangely:: I certainly hope this isn’t a *systemic* problem. We could be in here for a while if it’s not just the lift. Can you... try anything from the panel? Blackwell: Well - ::She turned and looked back to the panel for a moment. She did not have her PADD, but she did have her tricorder - she rarely left without that. She pulled it out of the pocket of her skirt and scanned the controls, just to see if there was any disruption with the lift itself. She swallowed as her suspicions were confirmed:: I think I know what is happening. Yael: And that is? ::curiously, framed by the red emergency light:: Blackwell: The lift seems fine - I think the problem is with the shaft itself. The question is - how extensive is the problem ::she gave a faint grimace:: The Denobulan gave her a concerned smile now, noting her less than enthusiastic expression and tone. Yael: … I’m afraid I’m less than technically apt… what do you mean? Blackwell: Meaning - we know that above us was a rather rough go….below could be as bad if the disruption is widespread. Yael: So… we stay put then. They’ll notice the malfunction soon enough. He was trying to console them both with the knowledge they couldn’t be lost or stuck somewhere for *too* long without it being noticed. Then he tried not to laugh, though he did chuckle lightly. Yael: I… don’t suppose you were in a *hurry* to get anywhere? Blackwell:::She rubbed her ribs for a moment and exhaled:: Weeellllll... Yael: Because if you were, *those* plans are canceled. A small joke in the face of their unexpected incarceration in the dead lift. Blackwell: Yeah….::She shook her head and put her hands up:: I guess for now...we get comfortable. ::She smiled, and leaned against the wall of the turbo lift::: Yael: Your ribs are okay? I kind of… well, *landed* on you. Quite rude of me. Blackwell: I wasn’t aware you could control inertia with propriety ::She softly chuckled:: But no, I’m all right. Just a bit banged up. Yael: I recently broke a couple ribs, it’s not something I wish on anyone. Blackwell:::she rubbed her hands together and nodded quietly:: I have had that too, and not eager to repeat it. But I am all right. What about you? ::She smiled back:: Where were you going before this...happened? Yael: I was heading to Verriar’s. The tongo wheel was calling to me. ::pausing:: It will still be there when we’re freed. There was that Denobulan patience at work. He leaned back against the wall now, less gripping it and more relaxing against it, confidence growing they wouldn’t fall again now that the safeties had caught them. Blackwell: That is true. I suppose if nothing else, we can call this an unplanned meet and greet. Yael: ::smiling:: If you wanted my attention, I offer walk-in hours. Blackwell::She chuckled and moved to sit down across from him, knees bent. She stretched out her arms and rested her elbows on her knees:: So - we haven’t met before, are you a new arrival? Yael: I’ve been here a couple weeks now. I was stationed here years ago though, so it already feels familiar to me. ::pausing:: And yourself? Ashley took to mimicking her posture, sliding his back down the wall and crossing his legs beneath him to sit, though he kept his back against the wall when he did. Blackwell: Been here for a bit but still..::She moved her head back and forth a bit:: Adjusting. I came here after a bit of a personal life change and so...been shifting gears from that. ::She grinned a bit:: So tell me what made you join StarFleet, Counselor. Yael: Oh, the same old story. Kid looks up at the stars and asks, “what’s out there?” I love being out here in deep space. ::pausing:: I like being one of the first to see what’s newly discovered. Blackwell:::She smiled softly to that, linking her fingers together:: I can’t say I felt any different. For me there was a family element..more or less to get out, adventure, experience things that you just can’t planetside. Yael: It also conveniently puts a few billion AU between me and my father. That one was more a joke, mostly, despite being true. But who couldn’t relate to having a somewhat oppressive parent one wanted to escape from? Blackwell:::She raised a brow to that and chuckled:: That’s also a common story. And while I get along with my mother and most of my family, it is nice to have some distance ::She smiled to that, if a bit vague, and picked at thread on her skirt::: Yael: You mentioned a personal life change? That it was giving you trouble? Blackwell:::There was a glance from her skirt and to his face, and back again, and chuckled faintly:: Ah, Counselor - eager to listen? Yael: Hey, it’s what counselors do. We listen. *If* you’d like to talk. Perhaps I could help you adjust. Blackwell: It’s not really that interesting… :her shoulders rose and then fell slowly:: Yael: Is there something holding you back? Something you miss where you came from? Blackwell: My father died ::She finally said succinctly::: Yael: Oh… ::pausing:: I’m sorry. Blackwell: No, it’s alright ::She smiled and exhaled slowly:: It has been a while since he died and while I miss him...it hurts differently now. Yael: What do you mean? Blackwell: I suppose it’s more …:she rubbed her hands together, and quietly popped the knuckles of her right hand:: It’s less of a sharp pang and more of a dull ache that comes and goes. I can forget about it during work, or when I’m busy. ::and a sort of wane smile:: And comes back when I start thinking about calling my family. Yael: ::his smile was softer:: I see. You sound like you were close to your father. Blackwell: We were very close. My father was in many ways my rock...not a hero persay...but he just always had an affable way of convincing me...that as strange as the universe is, it all fits together. Yael: It does seem to have a strange way of working itself out, doesn’t it? ::nodding:: She pushed her hair from her face and looked down for a moment. Her father had seen the universe as a discordant but glorious symphony - countless instruments and voices all adding into a sublime arrangement that resonated through every single person and being. Even though he never left planet side, and was largely taken with his near obsessive study of strange antiquities, there were also moments that he would widen his gaze to reflect on the fact that beyond the world, there were other worlds and lives happening. He found it endlessly fascinating to look at older works, prior to when First Contact occurred, and to wonder how humans kept their hopes alive even when they thought they were alone. And to him, the answer was simple - they knew instinctively they were not, and it was just a matter of the first meeting happening. He was strange like that. Strange and wonderful. And Rue missed that. Blackwell: He just tended to think that..no matter how complex the picture, how complex the work, even if it was madness or chaotic, there was always some unifying thread….so to speak. ::Then she laughed:: Then again, he also did think that ketchup could go on just about everything. Yael: ::laughing lightly:: Clearly a mad-man. ::pausing:: Ketchup is the *red* sauce, correct? Blackwell: Terran Condiment - comprised of tomatoes, salt, vinegar, a few other things - and not normally what one would suggest for deserts. ::she grimaced and laughed:: So ….how about you? Why a starbase? Yael: It’s the most intriguing collection of types of people. Which makes my job as a psychologist that much more interesting. It’s a whole different kind of world, far from home. She knew why she had chosen a starbase - her urge to be in strange unfamiliar places on a constant basis had waned after her father’s death. She felt herself strangely needing an anchor point for her life. The starbase for now, was that. Blackwell: Well, it - is- different. Certainly you're far from home, but you are also at the same point, we have sort of a static arrangement. Literally, we are a home base. Yael: For so many different sorts. ::he nodded in agreement:: The lights flickered slightly, but the lift held steady. It was as if the lift was reminding them of their precarious position. Ashley tapped his comm badge once more but got the same delayed chirp, a failure to connect. Incredibly odd to say the least. Rue exhaled in an empathetic sense of frustration. What - was- taking the engineers of the station so long to look into what was happening, and more importantly solve it. Yael was very pleasant to talk with, but somehow spending the rest of their careers in the turbo lift not what she had in mind. Yael: Though I imagine you wish you were elsewhere… I’m glad I’m not in here alone He was realizing how close that had been near to happening. It wasn’t as if being alone for a few minutes would kill him, but he was already feeling properly trapped in the small space. She turned to him and smiled gently, but her brow started to furrow in concern. Blackwell: Why is that? Yael: Denobulans don’t do very well in isolation. I suppose the station is great for those purposes as well, there’s never a lack of people to meet, things to do, events to attend. I never feel lonely here. Blackwell: Well, that’s true - I mean we are always surrounded by people unless we are in your quarters ::She considered that quietly, though privately considered that at times one could feel lonely even surrounded, but she turned her thoughts to the Denobian, listening as he spoke:: Yael: When I first arrived they tried to assign me to these sprawling quarters. Two extra rooms, separate kitchen. Far too much space for just a place to sleep. I talked them down to a studio economy suite with a view of one of the docking pylons. They can give the larger space to a family that needs it. Blackwell:::She chuckled:: Practical, but also sweet and thoughtful. ::a quick grin to that:: . My own quarters are ...comfortable. Living area is practical, but in my bedroom, I hung tapestries and lights to try and create...I guess a sense of privacy and safety. ::She smiled a bit to that:: Yael: ::as if asking for more, but smiling at the thought:: Tapestries? Blackwell: I like to feel a bit like I’m…::She shrugged a little bit for a moment and looked sheepish:: Like a kid’s fort I suppose ::She wasn’t sure if he would know the reference. Did Denobian’s make pillow forts?::: Yael: ::now he chuckled at the vision building in his mind:: A kid’s fort? Inside your bedroom? Weren’t kids forts made of wood and put up into trees? Perhaps he was thinking of the wrong Human custom. Blackwell: Oh well, Blankets and such over chairs, just a place to hide. Just a place to escape my parents or my brother as a kid ::She laughed:: I suppose it’s a bit silly. But Harmless. Yael: Ahhh, I see. ::he chuckled lightly now that he was getting the idea:: I suppose I could compare my bed. A ridiculous number of pillows and blankets… Denobulans can tend to *nest in*. It’s good to indulge in a little frivolous comfort, I think. Blackwell:: I think we always need time for a bit of frivolity and just being silly. It is what keeps us sane. ::She grinned:: I’ve even known a vulcan prone to a bit of frivolity. He would read salacious novels with me. Yael: A Vulcan reading salacious novels? Now *that* I’d pay latinum to see. Blackwell: There can be a lot to learn from pursuits that have quote un quote no purpose ::She grinned:: and even better, you learn it without realizing it and without feeling like it’s work. That was the truth. She could reflect on a few points where she had taken time out just to relax, just to do something that was utterly ridiculous, and ended up gaining something she hadn’t expected from the experience. Memories or a knowledge that just could not be planned for. Ashley was finding he quite enjoyed Lieutenant Blackwell’s company. In fact she seemed to be a bit of fresh air… stuck in the turbolift, they needed all the fresh air they could get. Yael: All we need is a campfire and some snacks. No weather, so we don’t need a tent. Blackwell: That would get their attention ::she exhaled:: the campfire at least ...when the sensors went off ::she chuckled and looked to Yael:: I do like camping though. I don’t get to go often. Yael: Perhaps you could join me sometime? At Verriars, if you’re into the bar scene or tongo, or on the holodeck? I have a feeling we’d have enormous fun. Blackwell: Why not ::a warm smile on her lips and she looked up:: Though for that to happen...we are going to need to get out of here. ::And then she stopped, as she heard a thump on the top of the lift:: ….Let’s hope that is good news? The Denobulan hybrid glanced up toward the roof at the sound, and a bit of relief ran through him. Yael: Sounds like there’s someone above us. Blackwell: They have specialized devices to come out on the lifts and do routine repairs ::she considered and exhaled, wishing there was a way to see on the top:: Yael: How do we know it’s a crew? ::he glanced at her with a grin:: Maybe it’s a turbolift monster. A “gremlin on the wing,” isn’t it? Blackwell: Well...If we listen closely ::She pressed her ear against the wall and closed her eyes, focusing, and then smiled:: ...Sounds like something is working. We - may- be in luck. Which is good because I was about to take matters into my own hands…::she grinned wide:: Yael: How so? I would think the most we could do from in here is *yell* very loudly into the nether. Blackwell: Climb to the top of the lift and see if I could get a repair done on my own ::she winked:: But you won’t have to see me do derring do just right now. Yael: You’d climb on top of a broken lift, from inside it? ::he chuckled lightly:: That’s a pretty bold thing to do. Blackwell: Oh I can be pretty...bold when I put my mind to it ::She laughed softly and shrugged:: I - try- to keep it limited to when it’s absolutely necessary but only when I’m at risk or there is no other option….hence why I’ve been really patient. Yael: Starfleet does attract bold personalities. And that would be better than being in here alone. Blackwell::She gave a mischievous smirk to that:: If It was just me in here, I would have likely climbed to the top of this thing to see what I could fix on my own. ...So in a way, good thing you were here too as you kept me out of trouble. Yael: ::with a bit of humor:: I do apologize for making you hold back. Your way sounds like a *lot* more fun. There was a sudden shift to the weight of the lift, and his hands shot out to brace against the wall and floor… but it didn’t drop or move violently. More, it was shifted, then began to move ever so slowly. She laughed to that and then binked as the lift began to move again, and she braced herself against the wall...and then as it moved, looked to Yael. Yael: I think we’ve been hoisted. Blackwell: I think so….about time. There was another sudden shift in the position of the lift as it slowly moved. Then a mechanical sound began to whine. There was a chirp… their comm badges both activated, and a voice soon came across the line. Engineer: =/\= Who have we got in there? =/\= Yael: ::responding with relief:: =/\= Lieutenant Blackwell and Ensign Yael. =/\= Engineer: =/\= Anyone need a doctor? =/\= Blackwell: =/\= No, thankfully not. =/\= Engineer: ::clearly glad there were no injuries, then, with humor:: =/\= When I said I wanted to go fishing this week, this *isn’t* what I planned. We’ll have you out in a few… bringing you down to the next level nice and easy. Stand clear of the door. =/\= Blackwell:::She looked to Yael and smirked:: Well glad they are getting to have a laugh.:::and then to the comm:: =/\= something go on with communications? We couldn’t reach anyone =/\= Ashley was already sitting near one of the sides, across from the Lieutenant, so he tucked his legs in a little closer, keeping amethyst eyes on the door as the mechanical sound intensified. Engineer: =/\= Yeah, comms went down for a few minutes. Computer malfunction during a routine system refurbishment. Bad timing with the lift. Sorry ‘bout that. =/\= Blackwell: =/\= Well, I’m just glad we are getting it resolved...though I hope you can find point of error to avoid this in the future =/\= She sounded cheerful though Yael could see her quietly working through what she might write on a report. Yael: =/\= How far did we drop? =/\= Engineer: =/\= About seventeen decks, before the safeties kicked in. Bet it was a fun ride. =/\= Yael: ::to Blackwell:: Something like that. Blackwell:::she smirked:: Oh absolutely. And after time, there was finally a nice hum where the lift moved to the appropriate floor, and both Ensign and Lieutenant were free of their temporary confinement, on to go about their ways:: Yael: ::as they parted:: It was nice plummeting to my doom with you. Blackwell: Let’s do it again sometime! ::and she waved cheerfully and was on her way:: ************************ Lt. Prudence Blackwell Comm/Ops Starbase 118 OPS G239308PB & Ensign Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0

🤣

This is exactly what Alora says too!

For me, it's just Shran, no contest. I felt like the character really grew through the series and gained depth as it went along.

((Deck 5, Hammer’s Bowling Alley, USS Thor - 0426, The night before the promotion)) Neither Wil, or his Captain, had achieved their primary objective yet. He held the bowling ball in front of his mouth, thinking about his technique. He thought about which of the guiding triangles he should aim for, as he sang quietly along with the audio that was filling the bowling alley. Ukinix/Audio: The man in-me will-do… near-ly a-ny task… With the grace of an uncoordinated horse, Wil took a few steps towards the white line. As he approached, he swung the bowling ball back behind him, before flinging it forward and releasing it from his fingers. After the sound of a large “thud” of the ball hitting the polished wooden floor, the ground rumbled as the ball travelled along towards the head pin. Wil made a fist in anticipated victory, before the pins crashed together, knocking almost all of them over - except for the furthermost outside two pins on the very back row. Computer: You have bowled a 7-10 split. Your score is 8 points. Ukinix: ::Single clap of hands:: Dammit! So close. Rahman: Tsk, tsk… forget the bridge simulator, you need to spend more time at the lanes. Wil looked up at Teller, who was suspended from the ceiling of the bowling alley by a bungee cord that was attached to a device with slowly flashing red lights. The device was wirelessly hooked into the bowling alley’s scoring system. Below the dangling suspended Teller was a large tub of a cream and gelatine mixture. And his dress uniform lay crumpled up in a pile next to the tub. Wil looked up at the newly minted Commander, and gave him a wink. Ukinix: Don’t worry, mate. ::Gesturing to Roshanara:: One of us will get that strike, we’ll get you down. Teller: ¡ʇuɐǝɯ noʎ ʇɥƃnoɥʇ I ʇɐɥʍ ┴ON sᴉ sᴉɥʇ uʍop ǝpᴉsdn unɟ ǝɯos ǝʌɐɥ oʇ ʇuɐʍ noʎ op pᴉɐs noʎ ǝɹǝɥʍ ɹɐǝʍs I lᴉM Roshanara looked up at the suspended and newly-minted Commander. Rahman: Do you mind? I’m trying to bowl here… Teller: ¡uᴉɐɹq ʎɯ oʇ ƃuᴉɥsnɹ poolq ǝɥʇ llɐ ɥʇᴉʍ ʇɐɥʍ noʎ ʇɔɐɹʇsᴉp oʇ uɐǝɯ ʇ,upᴉp 'ɹǝddᴉʞS ʎɹɹos ɯ,I ɥO His first CO gave him an approving smile before she took a few steps and launched the ball towards the pins. With a satisfying crunch, she managed to hit seven of them. Not enough to dunk him completely, but enough to trigger the device to give him a little shake as it dipped him closer to the tub. The line shuddered, dropping him a few CM’s closer to the frothy tub. He didn’t know how they’d convinced Darren Hammer, owner & operator of the lanes, to setup what looked like a large kiddie pool full of jello & shaving cream, but Geoff suspected bribery. He also suspected that somewhere, Taz Shandres was filming this, ready to make another viral hit on Fednet. Teller: ¿uoᴉʇᴉpɐɹʇ ʇǝǝlɟɹɐʇS ɐ sᴉɥʇ sᴉ ʎlʇɔɐxǝ ʍoH Wil furrowed his brow momentarily. For a split second, he could have sworn that with his friend suspended like that, it sounded like he had Wil’s accent. He shrugged his shoulders and shook it off as an odd, stray thought. Ukinix: Mate, stop whinging. All the greatest officers have been through the same thing. They did it to Spock when he became an ambassador. ::Under his breath:: Probably. ::To Roshanara:: Your bowl, Captain. The Kriosian nodded and held the ball up to her chin as she studied the lane like a starship tactician. The pins waited at the end as if they were a line of Tholian webspinners. Rahman: This one’s from Rosie. Teller: ˙˙˙˙ʇsnɾ plnoɔ ǝʍ ʞoo˥ The ball struck home with thunderous force and the line went slack. Geoff had a strange moment of weightlessness during which he considered many of the choices he’d made to lead him to this point in his life. His self-reflection was interrupted by his rapid descent and nearly explosive entry into the pool, which flung foam and jello like a geyser in every direction. Geoff struggled through the bizarre, coconut smelling soup, trying to pull himself through it. All he could hear was the splorp of jello moving and peels of laughter. When he finally was able to take his feet, Geoff had less than a second to realize both the Skipper and Wil were pointing strange sparklie tubes at him. With a loud pop, both spat an enormity of brightly colored confetti at him. He was now shirtless, pantless, and effectively glazed and decorated. Teller: I’m a damn cup-cake. Teller: oO They’re going to pay for this. Somehow. They’re going to pay. Oo Wil couldn’t stop laughing. He crouched down, before laying on the ground, on his side, holding his stomach. There was a mischievous snicker that he couldn’t stop. He looked back at glittery, gloopy Teller, and laughed even harder as he rolled onto his back. Rahman: Quit horsing around and get over here. Eventually, Wil got to his feet as his laughter subsided. On the nearby table were three essential items - a towel, a bathrobe, and a glass of White Russian. He picked them up, and handed the towel and glass to Commander Teller. Ukinix: There y’are, Geoffrey. Geoff took both items with deep suspicion, but with few other options he tried to clean himself up while taking a tentative sniff of the drink. Teller: The hell is this? Smells like a milkshake! Wil picked up his own half finished White Russian, and raised his glass in Teller’s direction. Ukinix: ::Holding up glass:: To Commander Teller. Geoff grinned and nodded his head solemnly before throwing the newly soaked towel back at Wil, catching him full in the face with a wet twok. Teller: Cheers, mate! Roshanara held onto the oversized beige bathrobe with both hands held out, taking care not to look too far down while she protected Teller’s modesty in front of any Prophets watching from the nearby Celestial Temple. Rahman: All right, let’s make sure you don’t catch a cold. Geoff glugged down the desert like drink, but caught the lingering bite of a sweet liquor. He suspected he’d be upside down again, without being tied to the ceiling, quite soon. The bathrobe was enormous and nearly went down to the floor, flapping past his wrists and into his tumbler. Somehow, a floppy belt really tied the whole ensemble together. Teller: Is this some kind of religious ceremony I’ve never heard of? Oooh, I know, can I be one of those Romulan lady sword monks?! The drink was already kicking in. Wil took a quick sip of his drink while eying Geoffrey in his ensemble. Ukinix: You look like a pimp. The captain went over to grab her own mug of coffee. It was rather early in the morning after all. She took a seat on one of the comfortable couches. Rahman: So… Mr. Teller. I suppose this marks a new chapter. You’re certainly no longer a young, wide-eyed ensign. Geoff smiled and accepted the compliment as graciously as he could manage while tripping over the edge of an oversized bathrobe. Teller: ::Geoff smiled sheepishly:: Thanks Skipper, that was...almost kind of you to say. Rahman: You’re fortunate you’re so irritatingly ingratiating. It’s the only factor I’ve identified that’s kept you from getting shot at more often. Geoff smirked and bowed with an elaborate flourish. Teller: All part of the service, Skipper. Ukinix: Captain, just give the man a hug, he deserves it. Roshanara looked back at a beaming Teller for a moment and then shook her head. Rahman: “Nah, I’m good.” Wil smirked and blinked a little at his Captain’s impersonation of him, before he turned to his friend. Ukinix: ::To Teller:: I’ll head to the bar and get us another round. He turned and made his way over to the long, luxurious wooden bar that was positioned away from the bowling lanes. Geoff nodded in thanks and produced the empty tumbler from under a frayed sleeve. Why the bathrobe already looked ratty and worn was beyond Teller, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Teller: It’s this brand of supportive abuse that got me where I am today - so in a way, Skipper, all of ::Geoff gestured to his fairly ridiculous self:: this...is on you. After her chief engineer went off to raid the alley’s stores of alcohol, Roshanara looked over at Teller sitting in the much-too-large armchair across from her. Rahman: You look adorable. Like that first time you sat in my command chair. Geoff’s eyebrows went up - it was a moment he remembered well. Teller: I was terrified, you know? Figured the seat was booby trapped or something. ::Geoff found his smile coming more naturally.:: I’m still not 100% sure it isn’t. She just smiled back coyly before she got up and took a seat next to him in the other chair, pulling her feet up and folding her legs under her as she sat. Rahman: So… how are you? Geoff mimmed strumming a guitar. Teller: Well, like you said Skipper - it’s been a long road. ::Geoff smirked:: But it’s been worth it. Rahman: Yes, yes… but I’m not speaking as a Starfleet captain to a commander in terms of the job you’ve done. I mean how are *you* doing? Geoff leaned back, considering the scope of the unexpectedly personal question. He noticed his dressed uniform, crumpled on the floor nearby, and the pips near the collar. Each represented missions, and people, and time spent or adventures had. He’d met friends, formed bonds, and grown as a person with each little bronze circle pinned to that jacket. Their significance had never seemed greater to him. Teller: Honestly...I guess I don’t think about it much - but I’m good. Really. The last year hasn’t been easy, but watching this crew come together has been..enriching. It was something I didn’t expect...and I didn’t expect to like it. I feel...older, somehow. And not just because my shoulder makes that crunching noise. She nodded as she cradled her coffee mug. Rahman: You’re someone others look up to now. Someone who models the kind of officer they hope to be. And someday, you’ll be someone else’s “Skipper.” Geoff tried to imagine that. Not the brash fantasies of the Academy, but a real time where a Captains chair was his and his alone. It seemed...more plausible now, a natural extension of the work he’d done. It wasn’t about personal glory, it was an awesome responsibility. It wasn’t about self-aggrandizement, but about leading others and letting their potential flourish. It was so much bigger than he’d ever imagined as an Ensign. Teller: I got lucky - I learned from the best, and ::Geoff nodded towards the bar:: I worked with the best. Shoulders of Giants. That should be the title of my autobiography. So much better than my other idea. Geoff got the least bit embarrassed. Teller: “Telling the Teller Tales By Teller.” Yeah, I know, it’s bad. She gestured to Wil in the distance as they both watched him rummage through the bar, still on the hunt for the evening’s next libation. Rahman: Still. It can be a lonely place at the top. And the friendships you made before you got there… are worth more than their volume in latinum. Roshanara herself had noted the change in her relationship to her shipmates when she’d moved up from chief engineer to XO. Being in a position of authority had required maintaining a certain distance, but that distance was created on both ends, from her and her colleagues--the latter’s effort being unexpectedly difficult to adjust to at times. Rahman: Have you gotten close to any of your new crew outside of a professional context? ::She grinned as she teased him slightly.:: Maybe someone special even? Geoff squinted and for a brief moment, heard his mother's laughter. Teller: What can I say - never found the time? Never found the right one? ::Geoff briefly reminisced about what had, and could have, been.:: Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment? The question was as much to himself as to his friend. It was true he’d kept to himself since leaving the Veritas, letting his responsibilities and his position isolate him. It had become almost habitual, and it allowed him to narrow his focus. Perhaps that was something else he had to...reexamine. Rahman: All right, then what about just friends? Teller: Friends - yes. Colleagues I respect and admire, absolutely. But there’s nobody else I trust like I trust you, or Wil, or Addison. Veritas feels like the home I grew up in - the people there took me in when I needed them, and let me become part of their lives. It was...something I didn’t know I needed. They’ll always be family to me. Roshanara nodded and then glanced down a little at his left arm, the stylized tattoo version of herself hidden underneath. What was once a drunken souvenir had become a badge of pride, representing Teller’s admiration for his first ship and captain. Rahman: I know I once told you that no matter where you go, Veritas will always be with you. Teller: Yep. I keep her right over here ::Geoff thumbed towards his heart:: next to the Thor. Rahman: But I think you should know it only gets harder to form those bonds from here on up… She struggled with the exact words she was looking for as he looked back at her. Rahman: The command decisions you’re making these days... affecting not just a team or a department but the entire crew... Geoff nodded gravely. He’d felt that distance forming more than once and had fought to dispel it. He leaned forward, his drink forgotten for a moment, his attention focused. Teller: It keeps me up some nights. I’ll take any advice you’ve got to offer. She nodded sympathetically. Rahman: One strategy is to keep your distance. It can make those decisions clearer for you about what needs to be done for the mission. But it can also leave you feeling hollow. She paused before she let out a sigh. Rahman: I’ve asked a lot of you over this past year. And you’ve done it. For Duronis II, Starfleet, and the Federation. But promise me one thing? Teller: I’ve never lied to you - not going to start now. You’ve got my word. Rahman: Don’t let this job consume you. A life in Starfleet isn’t just about getting the mission done. You need that social support, even more so as you move up the ranks. Make your time in the service about the *people* instead of the missions. The friendships you’ll leave with will make far greater company than the service ribbons. Geoff felt the wisdom in the advice deeply. His hardest days in Starfleet had been those when he was most alone, and the new bonds he’d forged in the last year had as much to do with his success as any that came before. Teller: Honestly, the Veritas is the family I was born into. The Thor is the family I got to build. I’m proud of both, and I know these people have my back as much as I have theirs. You taught me how to make a ship a home, Skipper. Promise me you won’t forget it. She nodded and raised her mug, tapping his glass. Both rang, and their shared their drink in brief companionable silence. ((“Quark’s Bar”, Deep Space Nine - three hours later)) Wil leaned over to the Ferengi that was behind the bar - although from his point of view, after the large quantity of drinks that he and Geoffrey had consumed, it looked like there were two of them. Ukinix: ::Raising empty glass:: Mate. It’s a bit of a dry argument here. ::Burp:: How about another drink? The Ferengi behind the bar gave the Human a fake cordial smile. To’n: You’re lucky it’s happy hour or you’ll be paying off your bar tab as a dabo girl. Geoff wobbled a bit, the conversation only half heard over the din in the bar and the din in his head. Teller: I did it Wil, I got that big new job….DABO! With a smirk, Wil thought of something that he knew would further infuriate the Ferengi. Ukinix: ::Smirking:: You’d be a *fetching* dabo girl, Commander! To’n: ::Under his breath:: Sure. If I wanted to lose all of my business. Ukinix: What? To’n: ::Fake smile:: Nothing. What will be your next drink, gentlemen? Wil lifted his finger, and unable to keep it still pointed to some of the bottles behind the bar. Ukinix: Two more big glasses of the green ones. And another two shots of the pink one. Teller: And whatever that talkative guy at the end of the bar is having. ::Geoff gestured towards the ancient Lurian with the hollow leg at the end of the bar:: And one for each of his brothers and sisters! Ukinix: Why not! ::Slapping Geoffrey on the back, then turning to T’on:: *Four* more of the pink ones, thanks! The bartender tried to keep the smile off his face. Their elderly patron had seventeen brothers and sisters. The drinks were added to the tab, as requested, as he fetched the rest for the well toasted officers. To’n: That’s a deal. When the Ferengi returned with their drinks, Wil grabbed one of the shot glasses, and handed it to Teller. He then grabbed one of his own. Ukinix: Congratulations, Commander. I’m proud of you. Geoff may have been exhausted, sore, and inebriated - but at that moment he was mostly relaxed. For however brief a time it would last, all was right in his world and he had the rare opportunity to celebrate with a dear friend. Teller: Thanks knackers! ::Geoff finished his drink and procured one of the replacements:: And I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Ukinix: What should we drink to? Geoff considered and had a brief, lucid flash of a children's story he’d heard long ago, about a pirate who learned too late that friendship was the real treasure. Geoff smiled at his brother by bond and raised a glass. Teller: To the real treasure, my friend. Ukinix: To treasure! They clinked their glasses together, before downing the pink liquid. Wil flinched, and his whole body shook as the strong alcoholic beverage went down. Teller: Ugh, that’ll burn a hole right through ya…::Geoff leaned against the bar heavily, lazily wandering through his memory of recent missions::..I ever tell you I met a dragon? Dragons..s. ::Geoff found the word oddly challenging:: They were nice! Ukinix: I think…::raising finger::... that I may be really drunk. We should call it a night. Or a morning. What time is it? Geoff glanced at a wall chrono that was all but hidden behind a giant hoload for something called ‘Papa Zek’s Oomax Guide’ and sprang unsteadily to his feet. Teller: Ungh...I’m supposed to be back on duty in an hour. I’ll have to find the infirmary and get something to clear my head out...or I might be the first person to get promoted and court martialed on the same day. Wil smashed his hand to his chest, to press his combadge - but missed, without him realising. Ukinix: Ukinix to Transporter Room… uh… any transporter room. Two to beam up Geoff squinted, pretty sure Wil and the Captain had arrived by shuttle. Teller: Who are you even trying... Ukinix: Why aren’t they answering? Geoff hoped the infirmary had room for two. Teller: Come on, Vice Admiral Winning Pants. Adventure is this way. Unsteadily, the two staggered towards the infirmary and all that lay beyond. END ==== Captain Roshanara Rahman CO, USS Veritas I238705TZ0 & Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0 & Lieutenant Commander Wil Ukinix Chief Engineer and Second Officer USS Veritas V239511WU0

((Main Sickbay - Starbase 118)) Sheila had hardly left Yael’s side since he went to sleep; the rest would provide him with a great deal of healing. Yet for herself she couldn’t. As a doctor she could have called in relief, backup, however rest on her part wasn’t going to be possible so she stayed by the Ensign’s side the whole time. Once and only once did she leave back to her office in order to settle into her wheelchair. Now Sheila had been awake for hours, each passing by slowly, sifting through the raw uncomfortable pain. Like before a double mindedness was noticed. Half was a relief at Yael being on the mend. The other half stiff, a constant look over her shoulder, a shift of her eyes to the very corners in order to keep track of the shadows her mind externally had her preserving. Shadows of her past telling her to run back to what made her hurt. Frankly that’s why she stayed by Yael’s side. A positive affect in the middle of a mind numbing fork in the road. A detour not a set back. Bailey: Hey, morning. How you feeling? The Denobulan hybrid rubbed his face, moving somewhat gingerly, and yawned as we woke. He wondered how his sleep cycle was going to survive all these unscheduled twists. Yael: Good morning… is it morning? He’d slept all night. She’d not slept all night. Bailey: Morning yes. Yael: You look tired. Have you been here all night? He was still a bit foggy, but much more coherent than he’d been when he initially woke the night before. Maybe it was the fact that her neck still hurt or maybe the fact that she had not slept in the slightest as to why she was a tad irritated. Irritated at nothing in particular. Bailey: I haven’t slept so yes. How are you feeling? Currently she was trying with all her might to avoid her pain. Yes she would have to address the emotions with Yael. Yael was the only person as of now that she wanted to discuss it with. Maybe German too but he was off dealing with his own turmoil; it would be rude to contact him about something he knew little about. Yael: I feel… ::he stopped to consider the hurt fleshy bits::... alright. There’s no pain. Bailey: Mind if I? ::She waved around the medical tricorder she had previously had sitting in her lap:: Laying still, which wasn’t hard for him at the moment, he let her sweep the medical tricorder across him. Sheila unlocked the wheels on her chair so that she could roll up parallel to Yael’s bedside. Here she waved her tricorder over his body. What came up on the tricorder screen was to be expected. Yael was healing even if after his sleep his system was being slow to wake up. Bailey: All systems are healing nicely. Might take a couple more hours for everything to come up to speed but that’s to be expected after being under anesthesia. Yael: Thank you. Now that Yael was awake it should have been standard to leave him to rest. Sheila on the other hand even with how exhausted she felt couldn’t. Just couldn’t. She had left her sisters. German had left too. In the current moment abandoning folks was not a goal of her’s. She would likely end up crying if any of the other current crew members left the station. Panic likely to set in if they got injured without her being there to stitch them back up. Bailey: I’m sorry. Can I get you anything? Water, something to read? Eat? There was something egging at him, something he couldn’t put his finger on, but she was off her game somehow. Was it lack of sleep? Was he seeing things from being under anesthesia? Yael: Perhaps… some company? If you’re not busy? Sheila nodded. Again she wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe it was obvious too that she was in pain despite her attempts to make the twinges in her neck minimal. Maybe too the twitches were a sign of extreme anxiety, a step beyond her normal controlled head shakes. At the thought her head shook violently and only semi painlessly. What embarrassed her most was how obvious the movement was. Yael was bound to notice. Bailey: I’m sorry. Sorry, my neck is stiff. ::That was a lie which she hoped wasn’t obvious. But if it was noticed perhaps a positive topic would come out of it:: Yael: It seems to be more than physical fatigue. Bailey: I...ummm…::For the first time it seemed she was truly at a loss for words:: Yael: It’s not about my injury, is it? I think a little more sleep and I’ll be good. Bailey: Sleep always does the body good. And no it’s not your injury. I stand by the fact you're healing well; above and beyond. ::Sigh:: I’ve got a lot weighing on me. Yael: Well… you’ve got my undivided attention here for a while. ::it wasn’t as if he was going anywhere soon:: Why not tell me what’s bothering you? If the ache in her neck was anything to go by then Sheila did have something. The need, the willingness, to speak about it almost ate her up inside. Yet she easily could walk away, give in to that little voice of her uncle. Go crawling back to what hurt her. Or she could even change the subject. Bailey: You should rest. Yael: I know you’re not one to complain about the little things, so if something is eating at you, I imagine it’s important. Bailey: Can past trauma cause dissociation? Yael: Oh, yes. It definitely can. It seemed that now the floodgates were opening right on up and wide. Bailey: I don’t know if you’ve read my file yet. Yael: When I first came aboard, yes. Bailey: I well happen to know a bad man. He hurt me. I know who and what he’s done. But the disconnect. How do I….I feel so out of step. Ashley thought on it for a moment. If she was dwelling on a past injury caused by a person she trusted, she could be experiencing an assortment of issues. Some form of PTSD was possible, or Betrayal Trauma. Narcissistic Abuse was keen to leave a sharp mark on any of their victims. Yael: Have you ever been counseled for this before? Specifically? Bailey: I’ve only seen one counselor for it, months ago. Since then I’ve mostly talked to both Taybrim and Nijil. Yael: Have you ever been taught any grounding techniques? Bailey: Not that I recall. The last time Sheila had talked to, specifically a counselor, had been Malko back in January right after she first transferred to the Starbase. Since then she had only been “counseled” in nonofficial ways. She opened up to Nijil and then Taybrim. German likely counted too but that turned out to be a conversation between friends. Despite having told a few others she had never gone so far as to wonder what she could do beyond letting them know it had happened. Of course she dealt with getting a service dog but that only, as of now, hardly touched the surface of the problem. Yael: I think, with dissociation happening, the important first step would be to help you re-ground yourself in the moments where you feel lost. First, I want you to identify one thing you can taste. ::pausing:: It might seem silly, but humor me. It wasn’t so much as silly but uncomfortable. Gave her this weird, unknown feeling. Sheila had never before taken the plunge, dove into deep water, in order to tackle the emotions head on. Bailey: Metallic. My mouth tastes metallic. Yael: Now, the air in here. How does it taste? Or is it cold, warm, stuffy? Identify two things you can smell. Bailey: I can smell medicine. It’s sharp, very much like cleaning supplies. I can smell a hint of lavender too. Must be from my chai tea. Yael: What are three things you can hear, right now. Bailey: I can hear us talking, both our voices. The volume is not too loud. I can hear the sound of the main doors opening and closing. Yael: Now, four things you can touch, instantly. Bailey: I can touch my mother’s ring. ::As she said it she pulled out the chain from under her uniform. The chain had a small ring strung through it; the ring had a black stone. Sheila had almost forgotten she had had it on:: Can touch the wheels of my chair, my tricorder, the bedsheets. Yael: And finally, five things you can see around you. Bailey: ::She counted them off on her fingers as she spoke:: I can see you, the monitor, my equipment cart in the corner, and if I turn around I can see both the nurses stations and the main doors. Not to be rude but is this going somewhere? Yael: It’s a method shortly referred to as “Five.” It’s a method of reidentifying to yourself where you are, what’s happening around you, and helps you focus through the dissociation. One thing you can taste. Then Two you can smell. Three things you can hear. Four things you can touch. Then Five things you see. He lifted a finger for each explanation. Yael: It can take a little repetition to get it down. So several times a day I’d like you to run through it, practice it. When you’re feeling good. So hopefully when you feel *less* than good it comes a bit more naturally. Think you can do that? Bailey: Doing it now was uncomfortable. Yael: ::he smiled at her:: It’s rarely natural the first time. ::pausing:: Do you want to tell me about what happened? Or at least, how you feel? Bailey: I mean it’s all so new. I’ve only scratched the surface when talking about what happened. I have found a few tools on my own yet they can’t always allow me to sort through my actual thoughts. Yael: It sounds like you’re finding ways to adapt. ::but she could still use some help, it seemed.:: What else do you do that *does* help? Bailey: I’ve actually talked with Taybrim and recently got a dog. A service dog. I’d like to have that companion to nudge me when I start acting distressed. Yael: A working companion animal was an excellent idea. Despite her having new tool in her toolbelt, one that research showed worked well for others, it couldn’t be everything. It stirred up a whole ton of emotions that made her question what actually happened. Her uncle was abusive to her, the type likely not important. Sheila did not want to sit talking or thinking about the past events. Yet how did it affect her now? What new label could she give the experience? Bailey: It might take more digging but I...I think it might be helpful for me to put a label on it. I know he, my uncle I mean, abused me as a child. I can clearly say that. Could you assist me and in putting a new label on it? Yael: ::nodding:: I can help you put a name to it, if that will help you. Bailey: With my patients I work on giving them a clear diagnosis as it helps direct the most appropriate form of treatment. I might be trying to grasp onto what I know works. I am hoping something similar could be applied here? Yael: Your medical training has prepared you well for this, I think. Having something to call it… or a name, a label… can help you define its boundaries. It allows you to psychologically confine it, in a sense. Bailey: The more specific we label it the better it, again, can be treated. I guess too having that specific label will allow me to not only understand it better but accept it easier and recover. Yael: Why don’t we set up a few proper sessions together. I can try to help. In the meantime, try using the grounding technique if you start to feel displaced. Bailey: I’d like that, having sessions. ::sigh:: I’ll try my hardest at practicing the grounding technique. In the meantime what do you recommend? Sheila would have loved to have a long sit down conversation, sort it all out at once. Yet from her own medical experience that wasn’t how things worked. It took several appointments for a diagnosis or if it didn’t the issue took time to heal. It was that healing process that was never linear. And now she was noticing how non-linear her own healing had been. At 13 years old she noticed the problem, at 16-18 years she had left her home planet and it wasn’t until a year ago that she finally actively started the healing process. Yael: For now? I think you should get some sleep. *Are* you sleeping alright? Bailey: Sleep? I mean last night was the first time I truly couldn’t sleep. Yael: You normally sleep well then? Bailey: Normally, I get 8 or more hours of sleep. Might wake up with a slight headache but that goes away. Yael: That’s good to hear. Bailey: I appreciate it, all your hard work. Yael: ::he tried not to chuckle at that:: I haven’t done anything but lay here. Bailey: Anyway I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. We should both get some rest. Ashley nodded in agreement, but was glad they had the opportunity to talk. Even if it took a major surgery for it to happen. Sheila herself slowly went back to her office, emotions mixed yet feeling better than before. Now not only did she have one tool, her service dog, but more were to come. Just like any good doctor the more tools the better. Lieutenant Sheila Bailey Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0 No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men - Sara Lance; Legends Of Tomorrow & Ensign Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0

Our Second officer. 😄

The newest member of Ops has already worked her way into our hearts. She's completely new to this format of writing, but that hasn't stopped her from sharing her character and worming her way into our hearts. *** ((Whitburn, Scotland, Earth)) The wind had a cold nip to it, even though the sun shone in the sky. Winter always hit earlier and colder the further north you were. Even in summer there were several degrees of difference in some places compared to the south. Ariana pulled the collar of her coat up as she descended from the shuttle, to block the wind that the scarf wasn't able to. She was a few buildings away from the one she was looking for. The high street wasn't that busy as the morning rush was over. She waited for a family to pass before she headed in the direction that she needed. Walking briskly, the shop soon came into view. An old man was looking through the window at a plaque. Her heart felt a little sad for him. She turned the handle to the shop, which made the bell above it tinkle. It made her smile as it always did. She headed over to the flower stand, she passed the various trinkets that the shop sold to get to them. They ranged from ornaments, to greetings cards. She could smell the sweet flowery smell as she approached them. They had beautiful bunches of all colours waiting to be bought. But she looked for the ones with the most red, white and blue in them, as always. Spotting some that were blue and white, there was never any point buying pink. They always mysteriously wilted before she left. Taking the flowers to the desk, she waited for the lady to serve her. The young lady came over to her smiling. Tiffany: Hallo hen, how kin ah hulp ye'r? Ariana smiled at the lady. The woman's voice washed over her and made her feel warm. Amaase: Just these please. ::she handed over the flowers:: Tiffany: That'll be eight pun, please. ::she put the bunch of flowers into a flower bag:: Ariana took her purse from her inside jacket pocket and got the correct change out. Amaase: Thank you. ::she smiled as she handed the money over:: Tiffany handed Ariana the flowers as she took the payment. Tiffany: Hae a crakin' day. ::she smiled at Ariana:: Ariana gave a polite smile but had a somber look on her face. oOShe isn't to know. It's her role to be polite, she'd get no custom otherwise. Or grumpy custom.Oo She left the shop. She paused outside and placed her earbuds in her ears. Setting her music on shuffle, she started walking at a brisk pace. She had been walking for fifteen minutes and the highstreet had turned into houses about a quarter of her way there. She didn't have to divert down any turns up until this point, as it was a near straight road. She turned right and walked a couple of hundred yards before she stood back a little to wait until it was safe to cross. She wasn't waiting long before she made her way across. Before her there was a hotel to the left and hedges in front of her and they followed the corner around into the opening. She paused before she entered looking down the road as she always did. The memories it brought back. Taking a deep breath and followed the path into a shuttle park that held around 20-30 shuttles. that winded around the grass fields. There were bushes here and there. Infront of her, slightly off to the left stood the maintenance building. It was never open, so she was not entirely sure of it's full purpose. It took her around two minutes to reach the gate. As she did she paused to see his dog. It was clear to see from her viewpoint. She smiled. oO He's a good boy, sat protecting you as always.Oo She collected some water in a bottle she found in the bin and made her way over. She paid little attention to her surroundings, she had been here that often she knew where everything was. Her mind was full of her own thoughts. As she approached the path she looked up to see him. She took her ear buds out and placed them into her pocket. Amaase: Hey Acel. I'm back again. ::she felt the familiar lump in her throat:: She walked down the path and vered right slightly to be stood in front of him. Amaase: I have brought you flowers. They're blue and white, no girly colours, so no killing them. Hey? A single tear rolled down her cheek, she carefully walked down the strip of grass, careful to not step on her brother or his neighbour. She nealt down, his black stone in front of her. Amaase: You're dirty. ::she remarked looking at his head stone:: I best clean you up. She placed the flowers down on the plinth and undid the lid of the bottle of water. She had always liked that touch with the bottles, they always went back there empty for the next person to use. She poured the water over the headstone using her right hand, with the left, she wiped over the stone to remove the dirt. Setting the bottle on the plinth, she took the flowers out of the bag and the wrappings. Putting the rubbish into the bag, she placed his flowers into his pot. Amaase: That's better. ::she half smiled admiring her handy work:: She walked back towards the path placing the rubbish in her pocket. Reaching the bottom of his grave, she sat down on the floor in front of him, crossed legged facing him. She fought back the tears as she looked at the headstone which read: 'Acel Arron Amaase The blue eyed boy. 236707.24 -235107.03' On the actual head stone which was shaped like a heart either side at the bottom were two blue cartoon styled luck dragons. On the bottom plinth it read: 'Missing you always. Forgetting you never.' The lump in her throat burned. she choked back the sob that was about to escape. Amaase: Sorry bro. ::the tears started to fall thick and fast:: But you were one of the few who believed in me. ::she sobbed as she spoke:: I wish you could be here. I wish you could see what I have achieved. All that I have overcome. ::she had started to double breathe at this point, her heart hurt so much she thought it would burst right outside of her chest:: I made it Acel, I made it. ~END~ Ensign Ariana Amaase Counsellor Officer SB118-Ops O239710AA0

Sometimes the inner struggles are harder than the external ones. ((Starbase 118 Ops -Promenade)) Bailey could hear the coughing and truth be told it scared her. Terrified her to no end. Last she had seen Yael he had been perfectly healthy, not a single complaint. And too based on the way he had talked then had definitely acted like the type of person that did not want to make any sort of bother. It was that last part that made the Elaysian woman nearly lose her breath as well. Yael needed medical attention and amediently. One couldn’t last long if they couldn’t breath. The growing problem though was the fear she experienced. Fear created not only from the memory of her uncle but from the intensity of the moment. The way her body moved on autopilot; picking up supplies, ordering around any medical officer standing about in main sickbay. Honestly the whole situation made her sick; nauseous. She wanted to vomit right then and there however her uncle, who she could almost see out of the corner of her eye, appeared to be telling her no, that she could only end up a patient herself if she could not solve her current problem. That she could not be weak. It was that bending of time. The way she blinked, her eyes closing one second opening the next medical crew staring at her. Staring as if to tell her to move, to do her dang job. From Sheila’s point of view she wondered at what had happened. It was like she had just woken up. In a hypothetical sense the morning was full of fog, smoke. The trigger was lost until she found herself practically on top of Yael. His skin clammy, and though he couldn’t see himself, his pallor was blue. Some unknown stranger had lowered him to the ground. Here Sheila had pulled out her tricorder moving the device over the counselor. Blink. Uncle. Blink. Sisters. Blink. Galven? Blink. Meeks. Her mind could see everyone who cared for her looking up at her out of Yael’s eyes. In the back of the woman’s mind, as if coming up out of a fog, came her uncle’s voice whispering “leave him.” Bailey: One of your ribs has punctured your lung. The Denobulan could only agree with another deep, alarming cough, hacking up more blood as the pressure in his chest increased. His hand reached out to attempt to shove the hands crowding him away, as if the space would give him more air. Blood, wet, dripping, blue, dropped onto Sheila’s uniform with each of Ensign Yael’s hacking coughs. Coughing in a situation like this not only looked painful but was. Sheila did not envy Yael or wish to be in his situation. What she disliked was having to clean up the mess. Course she would do it and with pride; she adored her work as a Starfleet doctor. Yet today everything was something different, something opposite to itself. As Yael’s hands reached out towards her he seemed to only manage to smear more blood down the front of her uniform. Bailey: Please don’t struggle. I know you are having trouble breathing but I’m going to need you to stay still Ensign. Sheila nodded to one of the medical officers nearby who then placed an oxygen mask over Yael’s face. It was one of those that fitted over the mouth and nose rather than having prongs to fit into the nose. Using the full mask allowed a struggling patient to take in more oxygen. Once the mask was placed Sheila only wished for a bit of relief. She would shoulder all the pain, all the hurt, the burning, choking, flaming pain as her own. If it was her’s not Yael’s then everything would be justified. Then maybe she would understand why she gave in and kissed him, not Yael, but him-him, a person, a man that she wasn’t going to mention. Yet they were the same man that had been consistent in her life. Her uncle had a profound affect. Bailey: Don’t talk. I only want you to concentrate on your breathing. Sheila too wondered how she was managing everything. To her, her brain had taken over and it was as if there were two people in the same body. Part of her was entierally afraid of messing up, of saying the wrong words. Shaking, numb, experiencing tight restrictive pain down her neck from intense hair pulling; hair pulling that currently wasn’t happening. A breathy voice making her take breath after breath in between each sentence. The other half was her normal unaffected self; a highly trained doctor. A doctor that knew a hundred percent what she was doing. Knew that her friend, if she could call him that, was going to make it out of the whole thing alive. Bailey: I’m going to talk you through everything I’m going to do. Just blink or squeeze my hand if you need me to stop. First I’m going to give you some pain medication. That should allow you to breath more easily. Then I’m going to run my bone regenerator tool over your ribs. That will allow the healing process to speed up a great deal taking the pressure off the lungs. Lastly, and this is the least fun, I’m going to have to insert a small yet fairly wide hollow needing into the space between your ribs. I need that extra air to get out from your lungs. You’re likely to have the tube in for a few days as a precaution. Some time in sickbay too I’m not taking any chances. To Yael Sheila must have looked like an angel what with the way her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulder illuminated by the bright lights around them. Bailey: ::Bailey reached over and gently squeezed one of Yael’s hands almost as a way to let him know everything was going to be okay:: Alright here we go. The young doctor turned her smile upside down at the pain both she and Yael were experiencing. Gratitude was a powerful tool which was likely why she matched the grip the Ensign gave to her hand. What happened next was just as quick as her arrival on the scene. The hypospray full of pain medication was administered. Before she knew it another blink and the other medical officers had managed to get Yael and her transported to sickbay. It was another moment as if her body was having episodes of absence seizures. The word went on around her while her body pressed pause. Pause was pressed. The movie skipped and then as if she was stopped from drowning, breaking the surface of the water, appearing out of a fog, body heating up making her dizzy, Sheila gripped her needle tight before plunging it into the space between Yael’s ribs. Relief was given, but not to her, as her patient took deeper breaths. Yael: ::weakly:: Sh… sorry… not being very… cooperative. Bailey: Tell me. Formalities. Now was not the time for them. Her brain was an upturned boat on the water. A boat with a hole, quickly filling with water. Slow, difficult to make stop. Yet Sheila needed to know why, what had caused the incident. Some life saving revelation could be revealed. Yael: Holodeck malfunction… the safeties failed, somehow. Took a rough blow… didn’t realize it was *that* hard. Tried walking to Sickbay. Didn’t make it. He tried reaching up to his ribs and barely glanced at the object inserted… and instantly pulled his hand back. Bailey: Don’t. I’ll take it out and then we need to take you in for surgery. My tools have been able to heal your injured rib yet it still needs to be fixed into place among other things. I’ll be putting you to sleep. I truly promise to do everything I can….. oO to make sure you don’t die. Oo Yael: Right. Yes. Do it. Sheila once again pressed a hypospray to Yael’s neck this time sending him to a peaceful sleep. For him the surgery would be over and done with before he even considered what was happening. For Sheila, despite her not being the one to perform the surgery, she would be there in the operating room the whole time acting as a damn fine scrub nurse; act as the one to monitor the vitals, organize the tools. Over the next 1-2 hours Sheila never sat down. She hardly moved from her spot between the monitor and the cart of surgical tools. She practically regretted it. During the whole process she had stood with her bad, left, hip jutted out, a way to shift her weight, yet by the end the whole area was a mess of painful nerves constantly firing; she could hardly walk even with her crutches. The use of her wheelchair would be required as soon as she had a free moment which was unlikely to happen. Frankly Sheila did not want to use her wheelchair. Not even an ounce of her wanted to appear weak. If somehow her problems became more important than those of her patient she would give in, make her uncle happy. At the same time her problems, her struggle was just as important. Bailey stood leaning against the biobed, painful pressure lacing through her hip, yet she ignored the irritation. Yael was slowly coming back into consciousness. Bailey: Hey, welcome back sleepy head. ::now she was starting to talk like she did to her two sisters as a way to comfort them:: Everything was good. Successful. You’re on some pain medication but I suspect you might not need them for much longer. Yael: Response Bailey: Yes you may talk, just be careful. We are keeping you here under observation for at least 24 hours. Yael: Response Bailey: ::air whizzed out of her lungs:: You need to be careful. Had me scared to death. I was in pain too. I couldn’t stop imagining walking away…. ::Sharp intake of breath:: Yael: Response Bailey: I’m sorry. I should leave you to rest. Yael: Response Lieutenant Sheila Bailey Assistant Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0 No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men - Sara Lance; Legends Of Tomorrow

There could be worse things!

I love going on missions with my fellow writers. Exploring situations and seeing how our characters respond is definitely a wonderful experience. However, one of my favourite parts is seeing what people do with their personal arcs, and that allows me as a reader to follow along in their journey. Sheila's journey has been on going, but I love how Aly is giving us insight to a new sort of beginning along that journey. I love how she makes it easy to connect with her character, and allows us a glimpse of what it might be like to be Sheila. ((Sheila Bailey’s Quarters - Habitat Areas - Starbase 118)) Sheila had done it. Yes she had done it. She had taken the next step needed. Now however she wasn’t sure. Not in the way that she shouldn’t have done it but more so ‘I never thought I’d get this far’. She had been wearing her uniform as she walked back from her appointment at the breeders. Dogs that’s what it was. ‘Special dogs for special folks’. That was supposedly the woman’s motto. Basically a breeder trainer and with that she would have to come back in 6 weeks; training. The woman working with her had been extremely excited for it too. She had talked at length about how most only came in for a new pet which required basic training; sit, stay that sort of thing. But she did set aside a few select dogs for more complicated training. In such the basics including service dog tasks were out of the way before the new owners, handler showed up. That was Bailey. Her and her new dog would be a team. They might even be a team right now and on the first day. Now she had a list of supplies in her saddle bag, her hands wrapped around the handles of her forearm crutches and strung through one of said handles was the loop of a teal rope dog leash. If one followed the leash they would spot at the end a dog grey in color, thin yet strong, ears flopped over, soon to point up as the pup grew. The creature was a classic style of male Elaysian dog similar to the Earth Great Dane. The Elaysian dog was built almost as if it was a miniature version of a horse, built to run. Currently it reached Sheila’s knees but at full grown, at the year mark in about 6 more months, would reach between her hips and waist. Soon enough the pair stood at the door to Sheila’s quarters. Once inside the dog's leash was uncliped. Not a moment too soon did the young pup go racing through the living room then around the kitchen table. They nearly knocked over her stone fruit bowl. On the second lap they practically slammed into the counter sending one of her round fruit tumbling to the floor. Bailey: Hey! Slow down. Come here… come here…. The dog stopped, sat and looked at Sheila, their head held sideways. Bailey: I’m sorry I don’t have a name for you yet. The thin dog practically disappeared running around from the kitchen into the bedroom. Sheila was about to follow when out of nowhere they appeared again. Dragging behind them was one of her knitted blankets. Bailey: I guess you're trying to help. That’s your job huh? Carefully Sheila bent down to sit on the floor. Her dog, yeah her dog took that as a cue to put his head in her lap. Gosh was he cute at six months. Cute and soft. Perfect for petting. Bailey: I should give you a name shouldn’t I? Dragon? Okay not that one. What about Jupiter? Pluto? ::The dog lifted his head looking totally uninterested in each option:: Okay. I get it. They are a bit silly. ::Sheila continued to stroke the top of the dog’s head:: You need a name that is strong. What about Hamlet or Loki? ::The dog only put their head back in the woman’s lap. Either they were growing tired as puppies do or uniquely uninterested in each option:: No, no. You’re right I can’t name you after some character. Alistair. Alistair. ::The name was said in Elaysian sounding quite different from the other suggestions:: It means warrior or helper. With the final suggestion Alistair sat up completely on alert. That must have been it. The correct name or at least the name that meant the most. Of course it was. With a name that meant warrior, helper or even defender of the people. Alistair was the perfect reminder of why he was here. He was strong so she herself could be strong. Just from him dragging about her blanket, for her, it was obvious he was born to be of service; a bit more training and they would be set. There was no doubt that Sheila and Alistair would make a fine pair. Alistair was going to be the best service dog in training, the best companion. He might even be considered a respectable medical officer. Lieutenant Sheila Bailey Assistant Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0 -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "StarBase 118 Ops a Star Trek PBEM RPG" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to sb118-ops+unsubscribe@googlegroups.com. To view this discussion on the web visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/sb118-ops/CAOop-PH5kNSxmNcnCRdtZE_awTGg0jmjk66z3-MvWRVbm8uiNw%40mail.gmail.com. Dog leash.jpeg 6 Month Elaysian puppy.jpg

One of the problems with SB118 is it's high quality of writing. I'm constantly shamed by the beautiful writings of others, and wish I could infuse humour or realism the way others do. @Judiciar Westus Grevious uses his experience to give us insight into what it's like to be in the military, even one that's space faring. It's a pleasure and honour to write with him and every single other person in this community. ((Valkyrie 4, Grey mode, Orbiting New Bajor)) Josh Henderson had wanted to be a pilot ever since he saw his first air show when he was seven. Alas, it wasn’t in the cards for him, and despite his best efforts, Josh had failed out of flight school, but not so badly that he wasn’t able to stick with Marine aviation. Managing phasers, sensors, and torpedoes from the back seat of a fighter was the next best thing to being in the front seat anyway. It did make for a much more interesting job on missions like the one he was on now. While Ishani was stuck in the front seat with nothing to do, Josh could at least monitor and manipulate the sensor readouts and the craft’s on board sensors. Still, It was much more fun to simply annoy his pilot. As loudly as he could, Josh Henderson cracked all ten of his knuckles in such rapid succession that it could have been mistaken for far off gunfire. Singh: Henderson, would you cut that out? You're not going to have any tendons left in your hands at this rate, and you've got a lot of buttons to push back there. Henderson: Oh please. You front seaters always say we’re just self-loading baggage back here. Maybe it’d do you good to see what happens when I can’t press my buttons. It’s not like anything’s gonna go down anyway. Why are we even out here? Singh: You know why we're here. Because those were our orders, Marine. As for why you're here - I can only assume Lieutenant Greaves is still upset I cleaned him out at poker last month. Josh laughed and reached forward to slap the side of the woman’s helmet in jest. Henderson: I KNEW it. It IS you I have to thank for sitting in a cold tin can with nothing to do! He watched the planet below slowly spin in place, almost imperceptibly slowly. Through the clouds he could see swaths of greens, blues, and tans. Henderson: But really though, what’re we out here for? The Thor up and skedaddled. I mean, I know we’ve got people on the ground, but aren’t we just dropping off supplies? Singh: Well, specifically, our orders were to conduct a training operation. Fleet Captain Kells didn't want to inflame the situation by bringing a big security force down to the planet, because it's his job to be a good representative for the Federation and Starfleet Command. Commander Teller didn't want the CO to be totally exposed, because it's his job to look out for the welfare of the crew, Fleet Captains included. So, he ordered 1st Lt. Greaves to put a low-profile support detachment together, because it's his job to make sure a crayon eater like you has something to do with their days. ::Ishani paused, enjoying the brief moment of silence:: You following all this so far or you like a picture? Henderson: Yeah, I’d love a picture. (fakes searching the [...]pit) Wait, did you eat my box of crayons again? Come-on Snowball, you know I was saving those for after lunch. Just give it to me straight. Singh: So, right now we're training. Our hypothetical training scenario is that the CO and several officers have beamed into potential hostile territory and the Thor has been called away. We are to on high guard. Out the window to our starboard, you'll see Valkyrie 5 doing the same thing. A bit below us and aft is a type 9 shuttle, the Freyr. Should we hypothetically observe something atypical...::Ishani tapped a knuckle on the biomonitors locked onto the away team to accentuate her point::...the shuttle is here to extract our people and we're to provide support. Do you even listen during the briefings? Josh reached below his chair and triggered a mechanical lever. His seat reclined an extra 20 degrees and the WSO leaned back in comfort. Henderson: Me? I took detailed notes, I’ve got this down pat. I just like hearing you rattle off from your high horse. (grinning) Singh: Fine, but next time I expect you to... Josh folded his hands behind his head and stretched his back in the cramped [...]pit just as a red light illuminated the small space. In a split second the crew of the fighter had dropped their back and forth, voices replaced with efficient and professional calls. Josh double checked the validity of the biosigns, and cursed under his breath. Hands flying over the controls, both of them spun up the engines and restored system power. The small fighter came to life with a faded hum, and Josh worked the sensors at full power, isolating the location of the team. Before she could even bring it up, he already was working the comms. Henderson: =/\= Two, this is lead, Loki. I say again, Loki. Follow us down. Spread left. =/\= Valkyrie 4-2 WSO: =/\= Two copies Loki. On it. =/\= Singh: Advise the strat ops officer on the rescue shuttle we are inbound to secure an LZ for them. They're to wait till we're passing through the mesosphere and then follow us down. What's our ETA to the ground? He had a solid fix on the away team on sensors, and Josh sent the coordinates to the front seat nav computer. A small blue triangle populated in their heads up displays, marking the location of the team and populating a computer generated ETA countdown. Henderson: On it. Two is already poshing spread left. The away team’s coordinates should be on your scope as well. I’m not picking up any threats as of yet. He reached for the comm push to talk and keyed the button as the ship rotated to align with the coordinates. Henderson: =/\= Freyr, this is Valkyrie 4-1. Loki. I say again, Loki. We’re inbound to the site and we’ll set you up for a straight in to the LZ. Push once we enter the mesosphere. How copy? =/\= Rouiancet: =/\= Response=/\= Henderson: Unknown at this time. We’re working on it. Recommend you go direct comms with the away team while we push ahead. Valkryie 4-1 out. Josh continued to work the sensor controls, manually fine tuning the scan resolution while powering up the shields and weapons. He checked the adjacent structures, underground, in the air. He checked for unusual particles and looked for energy signatures. Nothing came up out of the ordinary. Henderson: Snowball, looks like we can be down in 120 seconds. Should be hit atmo right away once we push. I’ve got nothing on the scope as far as threats. No idea what happened to the skipper. We might be best off doing some low passes as a show of force over the LZ. Singh: Response Singh: =/\= Freyr, this is Valkyrie 4. We are ten seconds from burndown. Sensors show our people in trouble. Can you confirm? =/\= Rouiancet: =/\= Response =/\= Singh's hands tightened around the controls as the computer counted off the final seconds. Singh: =/\= Copy all. Valkyrie 4, committing. =/\= That was it. Despite the two of them sharing the same rank, Snowball had been given the role of mission commander, and it was her choice on how to address anything that popped up while the Thor was away. She had spoken the magic words, commit, and now the mission was on. Josh felt a subtle shift in gravity as the ship rocketed forward and the inertial dampeners compensated. It was go time. Rouiancet: =/\= Response =/\= Henderson: Roger, we’re committed. The nose of the fighter aligned with the planet and the engines surged to life. Out the [...]pit window, New Bajor grew until it filled Ishani's view entirely, and then the plasma flames of reentry began creeping around the canopy. The roar in the [...]pit quickly grew deafening. As the ship shot into the atmosphere of the planet it began to rock violently. Under normal circumstances the dampeners would compensate admirably, but Snowball had them in a steep dive under significant acceleration. A very non-standard entry. Alarms began ringing throughout the [...]pit and Josh pulled up diagnostic readouts. Henderson: (Shouting over the roar) Take it easy Snowball. We’re coming in too hot. Hull temperature is sky rocketing. Singh: Response Henderson: We can’t help them if we become a bright red smear across the sky! I’m trying to compensate with vents. Almost as soon as he keyed the controls to begin venting some of the heat, the sound of stressed metal filled the [...]pit and the craft suddenly jerked left as a tearing thunk signaled the destruction of something on the hull. Warnings flashed across his display. Singh: Response Henderson: Whoops! Don’t mind that, might have just torn off a shuttered vent intake. No vents it is. I need you to slow us down 12 percent. That’ll keep us at red line, but it’ll keep us alive. Trust me on this. Singh: Response The next several moments were filled with tense rocking and buffeting as the ship decelerated in the increasingly thick air. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime of staring at hull temperature readouts, they were safely through the reentry and closing on the away team’s location. Henderson: They’re inside a structure, but it looks like there’s a good spot for the shuttle to set down right next to the entrace. I’m pushing the coordinates to the Freyr now. He rapidly tapped a few keys and pushed more data to the pilot’s computer and heads up display. Henderson: You should see a flight path on your display now. Follow it precisely, and I mean perfectly. It’ll take us over the heads of whoever is down there, clearing buildings by a few feet. Probably will shatter a couple windows too. Anyone thinking of pushing their luck will think twice. Singh: Response TBC ========================= 2ndLt Josh Henderson Marine Weapons Systems Operator E239702WG0 =========================

"I knew the dame was trouble the minute she walked through my door. She had a voice like an angel and a body like the devil, and I know which one I was paying more attention to. She was the kind of woman who’d hum you a lullaby after stabbing you in the back and I knew if I let my guard down, she’d be singing at my funeral."

((Starbase 118 - Marine Facilities, Lt. Meeks’ Office)) The typical day for a Marine involved many things, which included duty rotations, training, maintenance of equipment and the facilities, and whatever else needed to be done. For the company commander, the duties also included a ton of paperwork, reports, and recording all of the things done by the teams. For Tony, he felt he spent a lot more time doing the paperwork than actually doing the other stuff, so any chance to get his hands dirty made him jump at the opportunity. On this morning, Tony was at his desk (as usual), going over the training reports, checking on the progress of his team, and preparing future trainings based upon reports from the CIC. This allowed the teams to train for whatever may come, and prepare for whatever contingencies possible. He received a constant stream of messages over his PADD, and most of them only required a passing glance before they could be deleted and dismissed. One message caught his eye though, and he paused to read it a little more carefully. The message was from the last person he had expected to contact him, and even more unusual was the subject of the message. While it wasn’t unusual for requests to be made for training tutoring, there were a few people he never expected to make that request. After pondering the message, he tapped in a response accepting the request, and sent it. ((Timeskip - Later that afternoon, Holodeck 3)) Stepping into the dilapidated but usable gym, Yael found the program had supplied everything needed. Space, equipment, and the rudimentary padded floor. It was well equipped but worn, as if it had been used for years with hardly a cleaning. It was perfect. He was warming up, stretching, when the door to the gym opened again. Yael: Anthony! Thanks for coming. He’d asked the man to meet him here, and to be ready for some training. Admittedly, it might have been an odd thing for a counselor to say. But this would also give Ashley a good chance to catch up with the man and see how he was doing since their last session. Meeks: Of course, counselor. Happy to help. Yael: Is this okay? We could change programs if you prefer something else? Meeks: This’ll be fine. ::Looking around:: Your program? Looking around at the peeling paint, the air smelling like effort and sweat. He looked back to the Marine and [...]ed his head slightly to the side and smiled. Yael: I liked the ambiance. Meeks: Hey… ::Chuckling:: Whatever works. Tony sized up the Denobulan. The man was small in stature, which was not unusual for a Denobulan, but the typically passive nature of the culture intrigued the Marine. He wondered why a counselor, and a Denobulan, would have a desire to train in the combat arts. Meeks: So, what are we going to work on? The Denobulan hybrid slid off the pull-over and tossed it onto the floor aside them. The bruises on his arms and neck were probably still visible... gifts from his encounter with the Klingon from Verriar’s establishment… but thanks to Cadet Harper, his ribs felt good and he was walking fine. Now was time to choose a new aggressor… someone with the fortitude to literally punch past his defensive instincts. Yael: I need you to hit me. Now that was a request Tony had never had before. He had been asked not to hit someone, but to be asked to hit someone made him pause. Looking at the bruises that were visible on the man, he figured this wasn’t exactly the first time that request had been made by him. Meeks: ::Surprised by the request:: You want me to… what? Why? Yael: ::smiling again:: So I can learn how not to get hit. Meeks: Well, judging from those bruises, you’ve been getting hit a lot lately. The Denobulan tried not to smile suspiciously as he gave a quick thought to how he’d gained them. Yael: I’m pale. It makes them more apparent. Don’t let that stop you. Meeks: I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I help teach you how NOT to get hit. Yael: Also good. How do we do that? Meeks: The best defense is sometimes a good offense, but in absence of that, not getting your [...] kicked is better than the alternative. Ashley gave the Marine a good look now. He’d known the man would outclass him. He had a good nine inches on him in height, perhaps 80 or more pounds in weight? The blond hair, blue eyes, and friendly face were deceptive… if Meeks *wanted* to, he could simply flick him with a finger and knock him into next year's Bajoran Gratitude Festival. He had professional training though, and had probably taught before, seeing as how he was his unit leader. Yael: I’m not under any delusion I’m a heavy hitter, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t want you to go easy on me. Otherwise this is a waste of both of our time. Meeks: Oh, trust me, you’re gonna get hit... a lot. Don’t worry about that. Yael: ::taking a breath, steeling himself:: Okay. But if I cry, you can’t tell anyone. He joked with a light laugh as he stepped onto the mat. It wasn’t spongy by any means, but would buffer the harder hits and falls. Meeks: So, I have to ask. Is there a reason you are wanting to learn how to fight? A reason? Of course the Marine would want a reason. Semi prepared for the question, but still hesitating slightly with the answer, he certainly wasn’t going to give a long winded speech about evolving as a person. Yael: I’ve been through enough to know that… what’s the Human saying? Those who don’t carry a sword can still die upon them? Meeks: I suppose that’s true. Yael: I’ve got no experience at this. When it comes down to it… I have to depend on those around me, to preserve my own safety. I’m just trying to tip the scale. Meeks: I would imagine you would always have a security detail if you were on an away mission. Yael: Nobody wants to be a burden. That sounded a lot better than “Nobody wants to be a victim.” Meeks: I don’t think you would be a burden, but I get where you’re coming from. Yael: Shall we get started then? ((Time Skip - 23 Minutes)) Stepping to the center of the floor, Tony took a position facing Ashley. They stepped into motion and within a few moves, Tony had defeated Ashley’s advance and grounded him. This identified the counselor’s experience level, which was consistent with the basic training provided through the Academy. While this was essentially adequate as a foundation for self defense, as it related to Starfleet personnel under most controlled situations, the training was woefully inadequate for any real combat scenario. The pair reset and staged, facing each other once again. Tony explained some theories of the use of an opponent’s motion and inertia against the opponent, as well as assisting the defender using the forces applied by the attacker. After these explanations, Tony took the position of the attacker and demonstrated one of the theories at about half speed. Again, Ashley’s attempts to defend were easily overcome, leaving him facing the ceiling. Time after time, the results were the same, which was to be expected. Ashley was taking in the information though, even if he didn’t know it. Each reset lended a lesson, and the lesson was making it to action. With each reset, the effort Tony was having to take to floor his opponent was greater than the last. Unfortunately for Ashley, that might not have been felt by him. The sound of the body hitting the floor echoed in the rafters high above. A short yelp of pain that was more shock than actual pain. Panting. They’d only just started and he was sweating his choice already. Ashley stared into the ceiling for a moment, clenched his jaw at the spiders crawling INSIDE his skin. His lack of coordination was a real problem, but he couldn’t tell if it was that or the lack of skill that truly made him pathetic. He took one more breath and pushed himself up with a grunt. He gave a tug at one of his electro-stabilizing devices… they were firmly in place, it was his skin he wanted to claw off. Despite his internal struggle, he kept a relatively calm face… aside the now permanent furrow of his eyebrows. Yael: oO FOCUS. Oo Let me try that again. Meeks: You sure? Yael: I can get it. Meeks: Alright then. One more time. The end results were the same, but that would be expected considering the counselor’s experience level. There had been improvement though, even if Yael didn’t realize it. Tony had been instructing in hand to hand combat for a while, and had many students. He had learned to see the smallest changes in a person’s abilities, and there had been improvement. Meeks: Alright, counselor. I think that’s a good place to call it a day. Tired of his view of the ceiling, Ashley pushed up from the floor again, but remained sitting. Yael: So soon? Meeks: ::Tossing Ashley a towel:: If we push it too far, the learning stops. There’s no reason to get hurt here. The Denobulan was frustrated already, it was true. But too stubborn to give in to it, even if it was the smarter course. So he pushed, insisting. Yael: I can keep going. Meeks: Are you training for a prize fight tonight? ::Not waiting for an answer:: What you need now, is a hot shower and maybe a couple ice packs. That was a very firm “no” if he’d ever heard one, so he sighed in resignation, but he was unsettled and unsteady as he pushed up to stand, pressing the towel to his face to keep the sweat stinging his eyes. Yael: Okay … okay… ::giving in, he forced a smile:: … who am I to tell the unit leader “no,” right? Meeks: There’s always tomorrow. Let today settle in and we can come back to it. Yael: ::recentering himself:: How have you been sleeping, anyway? Is the medication helping? Meeks: ::Wiping his face and letting the towel settle on his shoulder:: Sleep has been hit and miss. I think it’s better though. The meds definitely help. Yael: Still dreaming? ::running the towel on the back of his neck:: Meeks: Not as bad. When they do happen, they're not in technicolor anymore. The dreams had come and gone nightly, but the severity was not as poignant. The perseverating thoughts were still there though, but were a bit easier to put aside. Suddenly, Tony realized the counselor had turned the tables, and the teacher had quickly become the student. Yael: Good. You’re on the right track then. I have a few other tricks up my sleeve, if you want to continue doing sessions. Meeks: Can I buy you a drink, counselor? Ashley blinked twice at that. What he really wanted to do was hit the sonic shower and claw his skin off. But if Anthony wanted to talk… now, while they smelled like this? Granted, Meeks had probably had to put out far less effort than he had. It could be important. He balanced the options, going to be alone and therapeutically screaming, or… helping his crewmate. He hesitated answering, but restrained said clawing and screaming. Yael: Now? ::unsure if he should, pausing briefly, but choosing:: Sure? Meeks: I bet wherever we go will smell better than this place. ::Smiling as he motioned to the room around them:: Yael: ::glancing around, and laughing lightly:: It *is* pretty ramshackle, isn’t it… ok. Lead the way. ((Promenade - Kael’s Pub)) Ashley carefully held his drink with both hands… they were shaking from the workout. In fact his entire body was vibrating with the leftover adrenaline. He’d put his pullover back on, and thankfully, the instinct to claw at the invisible spiders was lessening… more a dull hum now than an overwhelming wave. Being in public, with Meeks, made it difficult to let himself give in to it. He’d only wanted water… ice water… and he drank a bit greedily at first, leaving himself quickly with half a glass. Glancing over the small table at the Marine, he wondered. Tony on the other hand, ordered a pint of ale and a bowl of nuts. When the pint glass arrived, head of the ale spilling over slightly, cascading onto the table top, Tony collected the glass and took a long pull off the top. Yael: Was there something you wanted to say? ::pausing, but not really waiting:: If you’re not doing so well, it’s *ok.* There are other methods. Meeks: I think I’m doing better, Doc. I’m just not 100% yet. Yael: There’s an ultrasound therapy I was wondering if you’d like to try. Sort of a medical assist. It’s the little brother to electro-shock therapy. It helps the brain reset and form new neural connections. Meeks: Zapping my brain? Yael: It’s completely painless. I just have to give medical the word, and… He droned off slightly, as it seemed very much Anthony was thinking of something else. Ashley sent a hand up to rub his neck, fingers running over a few of his spinal ridges… he was a bit stiff and ached all over after being thrown around, and the ice cold condensation from the glass felt good against the heated skin. Meeks: It might be worth a shot. ::Noticing Ashley nursing his neck:: You okay? Maybe you need to see medical yourself. ::Chidingly:: Yael: Ah. ::laughing lightly:: No, I’m good. You didn’t break anything. I’m sure you were holding back for my sake. Meeks: So… you want to tell me the real reason we were in that gym today? There was a pause, a rapid moment of thought, and a forced smile. Yael: Was I that terrible at it? If you feel it’s a waste of your time, I understand. Meeks: Training is never a waste of time. I’m just looking for your motivation… your drive. Crap. Ashley needed to say something smart sounding. Yael: Just… I mentioned... improving my weak points? Well *that* sounded super convincing… the Denobulan hybrid internally facepalmed at having phrased it as a question. It was like he was *asking* Anthony to believe him. Meeks: Your position doesn’t necessarily put you into harms way, as a general rule. ::Nodding to the braces on Ashley’s forearms:: It looks to me like you’re trying to prove to yourself you can do this. Yael: ::leaning back, psychologically putting a little more space between them:: Is it that strange? He paused, glancing down at the ale in the Humans hands almost longingly for a moment, then continued. Yael: I’m pushing things, I know. ::glancing back up at the Marine, he gave a small smile that he hoped was convincing:: But it’s under control. Nothing to worry about. Tony watched and listened to the man. The words, the affect in the voice, the body language, all of what Ashley was saying in the totality of the communication spoke volumes. Tony knew and understood challenges, but what Ashley was facing was far beyond anything Tony had ever had to experience or endure. Meeks: Would it be too much to ask about the braces? What’s the story? There was an expansive moment of silence that dragged out into discomfort. Ashley had known that *someone* would ask eventually. Had at least half a dozen explanations prepared in advance to dismiss queries on the subject. But now that he was actually faced with the question… looking Anthony in the eyes… he found them all distasteful. Maybe it was because he was sitting across the table from someone he admired, but he didn’t want to hide who or what he was anymore. He had always hidden it… but wasn’t he becoming a different person? Could he emulate the bravery of a Marine, even if he could never fill those shoes? Yael: I have a neurological condition. It’s called Theorons. It starts with a loss of fine motor control. These are… ::he held up his hands, looking at the braces::... electro-stabilizers. They alter the signals sent from my brain to my hands, to control the tremor. Without these, I can’t buckle my boots, and it isn’t going to get better. He spoke calmly, matter-of-factly, but there was a growing knot in his stomach. But now that he’d started, he didn’t stop. Yael: I don’t tell people about it because I’m already the small guy in the room, and I’ve got a chip on my shoulder about it. People underestimate me from the start. I want to be known for what I *can* do. Not what I can’t. Trouble is… I grew up in the Federation, always protected… by people like you. So *I* don’t even know what I can and can’t do, and I’m trying to figure that out. He kept eyes on the man, trying to exude the confidence he didn’t feel… and waited. Meeks: ::Taking another pull from his ale, emptying the glass:: I think it takes balls to do what you’re doing. After signalling the waiter for another ale, Tony turned back to his conversation with Ashley. He took a moment and watched the man as he struggled with telling his story. He knew it was difficult for Ashley to give such intimate details, but his respect for his new friend grew by the moment. Yael: You’re… what? You’re not... Meeks: You gave me a prescription for twice weekly visits to try and get my noodle figured out. ::tapping his right temple:: Let’s do the same thing here. Twice a week, you and I will meet in that smelly ol’ gym. I’ll teach you what you want to know, for as long as you want to learn. Ashley felt something imperative but didn’t have the words to describe it. Balls? His brain had frozen watching Anthony take that last, long drink, motioning for another, and… the man had given not one shred of unwanted pity, or needed comforting at the knowledge, or apologized clumsily for what he couldn’t possibly control, or asked invasive medical questions, or treated him like he was *breakable*. None of the typical and terrible responses people always had. Meeks gave him instant acceptance with the ease of taking a drink. Yael: ::suddenly breathing… he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath:: You’re still going to work with me? Meeks: ::Thanking the waiter when his new glass of ale arrived, then turning back to Ashley:: I don’t give a squirt of snot about those things. ::Nodding to the braces:: Those are an obstacle, nothing more. Your… illness is only that, an obstacle. Yael: That’s right. The Denobulan agreed, and breathed, and the knot in his stomach unkinked. He took down the last of his glass of water, the ice having melted away. It felt good not to be made of glass. ~~~ Ensign Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops & 2Lt. Anthony Meeks Company Commander 1/292nd TMR D Co. Starbase 118 Ops/USS Narindra R238801IG0

Yeah. I get that.

This amused me.

That was adorable! @Sal Taybrim I want one.

OOC: Kaycie's only been back with us a few weeks, but her writing makes it easy to get a sense of who Ashley is. Really enjoying getting to know her character. IC: ((Starbase 118 Ops - Promenade - Verriar’s Establishment)) Yael stepped past a nameless Bajoran and continued until he found what he’d been looking for. It was a rather hole-in-the-wall, seedy looking place, a bar, a gambling establishment, and the live Andorian Jazz was swinging from a small stage in the back, on the second floor… it was a little bit of everything, tucked away in a lesser-trafficked area of the Promenade. High above the entrance, a bright sign read “Verriars.” The clacking and jangling of a tongo wheel in the back of the establishment kept the noise level high, as did the music and the murmurs of all the conversations around them. As he walked in, his boots crushed some unswept glass, likely from a broken mug or glass. Two private holosuites were installed in the back of the establishment, and the drinks were ordered and delivered quickly. He wore plain clothes, civilian. Dark trousers, boots, a matching dark shirt, and a gunmetal grey vest with subtle gold lacing in its woven pattern. He’d worked hard for his uniform, so of course it was often what he preferred to wear, but anonymity was sometimes useful as well. His comm badge was on the underside of his vest, hidden from view. But it would be inappropriate to be without it. He gave a glance at a tray passing near him, at the brightly colored drinks. One was smoking with some dry ice concoction, another sparkled like tiny raspberry stars. Nothing here would be watered down. No. Not here for that. He took a seat at the bar though, and despite what he *wanted*, he ordered something else. Yael: Terellian Spiced Ale. The bartender was a Terellian woman in a delightfully bright purple get-up, so it seemed appropriate. The drink, despite the name, was not actually alcoholic… just decadent… and the Terellian only wasted a single of her four arms to offer a data padd, where Ashley gave his thumb print and sacrificed the credits. There was no tab at an underwater place like this. With another of her four arms, the glamorous bartender poured the drink and added the spice with expert proportions and, somehow, with grace, without even looking at the mug as she did it. She was a large figure, but moved with a precise knowledge of her space and her goods. The cold glass mug was then slid to him from a few inches away, and she smiled at him. Yael: Is this your place? Verriar: Why yes, it is. ::she smiled at him, her ridges wrinkling upwards on her nose:: And you’re new. With one of her free arms she produced a salt suck. A nasty habit, but still somehow enjoyable. She brought it to her tongue and licked it lightly. With a third arm she mixed another drink. He leaned on his elbows and smiled at her, enjoying the company already. Yael: Ashley. It’s a pleasure. Verriar: Of course it’s your pleasure. That’s what Verriar’s is *for*, darling. ::she paused, looking at him closely:: We don’t get many Denobulans in here. Too risque, they tell me. Yael: I’ll take that as a compliment. She smiled and lightly laughed, sliding another drink down the length of the bar to another customer who had run dry. Verriar: What are you here for? Yael: The company, no question. He smiled at her, and she laughed again. Verriar: Honey, my ex husband is *still* killing my boyfriends. ::she looked him up and down once more:: But some are *worth* the risk. I know *I* am. She laughed heartily now, licking her salt suck again. The Denobulan took a steady drink of his not-actually alcoholic ale, and found he liked it quite a bit. The spice stayed on his tongue, blossoming into a whole new flavour after the drink had already been swallowed. He could see the appeal… Terellians just did *quality*. Spices, diamonds, crude habits like salt sucks… among other bad habits... whatever the product was, you could bet it would be good. Turning, he watched the tongo board for a while, surveying the players. There were a few Bajorans, a Gorn eating a heavy looking meal of some sort of meat, and a small host of Klingons, along with a few other species. Of course, the tongo master was a Ferengi looking for marks… or, as a Ferengi might say, an opportunity for profit. Verriar: You’re not here to drink. Can I offer you something more enticing? She motioned to the back of her bar, no doubt where she kept the more illegitimate merchandise. Yael shook his head negatively. Yael: I’m not here for that. But I *will* take a holosuite, if you’ve got one? Verriar: Oh honey, I have *two*. Yael: You’ll make my day if you have something Klingon… some hopelessly romantic battle to the death? Verriar: Or something. ::she smiled, her hidden arm producing a box filled with holodeck program chips, and selecting one from the grouping:: Take this. Find a friend. And have fun. She paused as she held it up, then reached out a cautionary finger in the air with one of her free three hands. Verriar: This is no basic Mok’bara, and you’re such a wisp of a thing. Are you *sure* you can *handle* it? Yael: ::he grinned, closing his hand round the data chip:: Don’t you worry about me. I’m sure there’s an exclusion of liability waiver in the data pad I just signed. She smiled broadly again, pausing for one last moment, and then moved on to serve other customers who were filtering in. Ashley finished his drink and took his look around the room. There were two groups of Klingons, all who apparently knew one another. They were drinking and boisterous, but not out of control. He picked the smaller of the two groups which consisted of three armed men, waited, and listened. When they were drunk enough, but not too drunk, he lifted his mug… now empty, save a few drops clinging to the glass… and chucked it at the largest Klingons chest. It shattered on the tough leather across his chest and made him jump in surprise, black eyes locking on the small man who had dared to throw it, and became even *more* surprised. The tall Klingon, his black hair having caught a few of the remaining drops of ale, brushed off his leather and stalked over in three fast feet to stand over the Denobulan. The guy must have been seven feet tall, so quite literally *over* him at that. Klingon: You… *YOU*... dare throw your drink at *ME*? Ashley stood to face him at his full 5’7”. Yael: You’re being too LOUD! And you’re too UGLY to be making that much NOISE! The Klingons friends roared in laughter, and so did Verriar from the far end of the bar. The angry Klingon went silent for a moment as he glared down, his brain ticking in dangerously slow thought… this could now go one of two ways. Painfully… or slightly less painfully. But over the next moment the Klingons eyes wrinkled round the edges… as he smiled, and then threw his head back in a laugh, matching his friends. Klingon: This one thinks he’s a Klingon! His large hand came up to steady flat above Ashley’s head, measuring his height. Klingon: You weigh as much as a wet targ! The group laughed even harder, and so did the Denobulan. It was funny because it was true! He lifted the data chip to the Klingons face before he could lose his humor, and smiled widely. Yael: Ever fought the Battle of Klach D’Kel Brakt? The drunken Klingons eyes glazed over as he came to realize that this was an invitation, and he and his friends roared in excitement, finishing their drinks in one great gulp.

Jamie has this wonderful ability to infuse humour among the drama and yet never does that humour ever undermine the overall tone of a dramatic and serious topic in a sim.

But he's such a CUTE boring old man in a little blue body!

((Room 06-0501, Deck 6, USS Thor, On the night before Thor's arrival to New Bajor's system)) The room was immersed in a warm half-light, which was the price for honouring the repose of her roommate. Close to a corner, on the floor, the minute flame of a meditation lamp flickered dimly, about to drain the last dregs of the fragrant oil that fed it. Over her bed, Cheesecake dozed on her back, shaking one of her hind legs gently as her nose twitches nervously. A chase and prey dream, for sure. Alieth sighed and stretched out her arms over her head, all her attempts of meditation fruitless so far. There was only one way to solve that and to appease the mild trepidation about the new mission that stalked her mind, sullen and hostile and unwilling to be suppressed. Tea. There was a tea for each and every situation and this was one of those that called for the most widespread, soothing and relaxing blend, the one that had become popular even among restless humans. But like all things, what is well done feels right, so Alieth tapped into the replicator the parameters for a teapot at the suitable temperature for the ceremony and then headed for the small chest at the foot of her bed. She opened the lid daintily, fumbled around a bit, and finally extracted an old cloth-wrapped case. With reverence, she unfolded the packaging and then opened the box, revealing a family heirloom that had miraculously survived the QSD accident: A half dozen cups, handmade out of dark clay, that had been passed down from one generation to the next since her ancestors were merely desert nomads, rebellious and fierce wild people who were reluctant to accept Surak's teachings. Of course, years had not passed unnoticed for the tiny pieces, and the countless events and hands they had been through had left their mark on them. The glaze had flaked off in several places, while chips, dents and fissures were evidence of a long life of use. In fact several of them had been shattered at some point in their past, split into several irregular pieces. However, her forefathers had seen the value in repairing those loyal objects and had recomposed the delicate pieces together with precious metals that were once highly valued, since that fracture, that imperfection did not make them useless, but rather spoke to the history of the object and its capacity to recompose itself and endure. It spoke of resilience and the fugacity of time. And arguably of the stubbornness that ran through her bloodline. In the replicator's niche, the kettle hissed, boiling water escaping from its spout. Alieth picked up one of the cups and a small bag of herbs that she had brought from Vulcan and made her way to the appliance. During the next few minutes, her mind was only focused on preparing the infusion as well as drinking the first sip. One of the corners of her mouth curved lightly. This little ritual never failed to reassure her, and focused her mind on what it should be done. Which, at the time, entailed the commission of a crime. Once again. Thus, Alieth drained the cup she had used and cleaned it meticulously. Then she took up its companions and with them all walked to the replicator. In a few minutes, she had scanned the exact design, with all its details and imperfections and introduced their pattern into the replicator. That way she was able to produce an exact copy of the cups, which she stored in a box just like the one she had brought from Chi-ree, except that it was white. As she was sealing the lid, a sudden thought crossed her mind. She chose one of the replicated cups and placed it on the desk. Then she took the cup from which the replica had been modeled and placed it in the box she was going to gift. Her friend would never know that one of the cups was centuries old, yet part of Vulcan's soul and serenity would be with him, as long as he used the cup. An apt price for the marine's friendship and to calm his troubled spirit. Now, she only had to sneak onto the marine deck. In the wee hours of the night. And make it to the Chief's office. A genuine challenge for the nocturnal Vulcan criminal. [[TBC]] ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding Author ID number: E239702A10 =================================