Alora DeVeau

Congratulations everyone! Whoowhoo!

((Promenade, Miranda VII, Early 2378)) What had drawn Nestira Aristren to the Trinity Sector and surrounding areas was the fact that it had remained relatively untouched by the devastation of the Dominion War, which made it the preferred location for anyone trying to get away from haunting memories and remaining obligations. And while the Klingons and Federation were focussed on rebuilding, there were several smaller and larger groups that benefited immensely from the lack of regulation that opened up creative ways to trade and seek entertainment. The Rodulan found observing these customs a worthwhile passtime, but despite having been on Miranda VII for several months, never partook in either, and with each passing day, she grew more desolate. She was lonely. She wanted to interact with the different species that called the spacedock their home or came here for business, but had quickly learned that blending in was far more difficult than it seemed. She couldn’t quite understand why that was, she only knew that it… was. There was a Trojan class I spacedock closeby - Starbase 118 - that Nestira considered visiting, hoping for the officers to be a little more accepting. But not now. For now, Nestira was content to simply observe and try to figure out what to do next. Tucked away in a quiet corner of a not-so-quiet establishment she kept her eyes fixed on the beverage in front of her, and on blocking out the vibrant minds of the people who had come here to relax, celebrate, or simply grab something to eat. Anethra was on Miranda VII for one reason. To seek out new pieces of art. One didn't open a gallery with nothing to show in it. The war had not been kind to her trade, and in fact many people had been hoarding various pieces of art, secured away in vaults all over the quadrant. War was not good for business. But the war was over. And the Ferengi had another saying; Peace was good for business. Anethra certainly hoped that was the case. For now though she was hungry, and hunger overrode pretty much every other desire. So the Rekarian had made her way to a mostly full eatery on the Promenade. It was noisy and there wasn't much seating, so when she found an empty seat at an otherwise occupied booth she decided to simply ask to sit. Anethra: Is this seat taken? The Rodulan looked up in something that was supposed to convey surprise, but in reality looked like her staring the woman down, wondering what species that one might be. Vulcan? But Vulcans all had the same haircut, and this one did not conform. Interesting. Anethra stared back at the dark-eyed woman in front of her, waiting for an answer. She couldn't say she was enjoying the gaze she was under, but again, hunger overrode most things, so she waited still. Nestira, who had fixed her gaze on the woman, returned her attention to the mug in front of her. Or rather, she sensed her discomfort and decided to alleviate it by simply looking away. As she responded, her tone was flat and unanimated. Aristren: This seat is empty. Silence spread between the two women, and Nestira realized a split second too late that she should probably say something more. The telepathic undercurrent of her statement relayed interest and an invitation to join her, but of course the Vulcan-eque female was unable to perceive it. Perhaps, Nestira considered, she should ask a question in return to show interest. She just wasn’t sure what. Anethra in the meanwhile glossed over the fact that it wasn't a yes or a no. She shrugged, choosing to sit anyway. If the woman hadn't wanted her there, she would have just said so. Once a waiter had provided food and drink, she turned her attention to the Rodulan woman on the other side of the table. Anethra: So what brings you to Miranda VII? Aristren: Visiting. ::there was a long and somewhat awkward pause as Nestira convinced herself to ask a question of her own, and then had to think about what to ask the stranger:: Is there something wrong about being here? While the woman considered her response, Anethra took a bite of her food, savoring it. Anethra: Nothing wrong, just don't normally see a Rodulan so far from home. It makes such an encounter unique… Rodulans were indeed rare - many did not want to leave Basul Rodul. Which in turn meant that many other species weren’t even aware they existed, which explained why Nestira struggled to blend in. Aristren: I decided to travel. ::pause, then a sudden raising of her eyebrows as she finally thought of a question to ask in return:: Do you travel? Anethra: I do. :: She chewed for a moment, then continued after swallowing. :: Quite often in fact. This was going well. A lot better than most of Nestira’s other encounters. She was pleased, deciding to take a leap of faith and trust the woman with her name. Aristren: You can call me Nestira. Anethra: I am Anethra. Anethra observed the beautiful woman in front of her. A curious sight on a station full of curious sights. Aristren: What do you do here? Anethra: I travel for many things, to see new places. Meet new people. For business and pleasure. :: She paused. :: Currently, I do so for business. Aristren: What kind of business is it you do? Now that she had started to ask questions, she was getting the hang of it, and she quickly realized that asking them was not considered intrusive. At least not in this setting. It seemed Anethra enjoyed talking about herself. Anethra: I am an art dealer. Looking for pieces to go into a gallery I intend to open one day soon. The Rodulan’s face seemed to light up at that - or at least she no longer motionlessly stared at the other woman. Aristren: My mother is an artist. Her paintings have been shown in galleries for a long time, and I am very proud of her. My sister was like her, I am more like my father, but perhaps in the future I can learn to create something so expressive. ::pause:: But she paints differently now, my mother. And my sister does not at all. The words came quickly and with an inflection that seemed …. off. But it was the most she had spoken for quite some time, which was reason enough to forgive the overload on personal information and context that had not been requested. Anethra: A shame… I've found most of the pieces that have come out of Basal Rodul to be incredibly beautiful. Nestira could sense that there was something more to the statement, but after a few minor telepathic incidents, she had grown increasingly careful and almost distrustful of her senses. And so she decided on another question instead. Aristren: You like our art? Anethra nodded, taking a sip of her drink. Anethra: I especially like the basotile sculptures that I've had the pleasure of viewing. The Rodulan nodded. Basotile was an integral part of her culture, and the sculptures crafted from it were deeply personal items that were said to contain part of one's soul. Amongst their own kind, those pieces were gifted to each other, and returned when a relationship changed or a bond broke apart. Many possessed personal pieces of basotile, and Nestira was not an exception. Aristren: I have one. You can look at it if you want. But I am not an artist. Anethra’s eyes widened slightly. She nodded enthusiastically. Anethra: I would very much like to see it, yes. For a moment, Nestira was hesitant. She did not usually showcase something so personal to a stranger, but in many ways she was starved for social contact, and Anethra seemed.. nice. Anethra: Shall we go somewhere a bit more private? Aristren: We can go to my quarters. The quarters I… rented. Anethra: Sounds good. ((Nestira’s so-called ‘quarters’, Miranda VII, Early 2378)) Calling Nestira’s home ‘quarters’ was perhaps a little too generous. She had rented a small room in a larger apartment, and that room fit not much more than a bed and a desk. There were a few possessions strewn about, but it quickly became clear that she did not, in fact, own much. Anethra: Its very…. cozy. Anethra hadn't expected much. The Cardassian designed space station did not provide much in the way of amenities. Even her own quarters were not much. Aristren: I am … not sure I will stay long. It's very complicated. Living here. Here, on Miranda VII. Here, away from home. Anethra: How so? Aristren: I am not yet sure how things work. Anethra: Ah, I understand. :: She nodded. :: I found it similarly hard when I first started out… That was interesting to Nestira. Her own species valued and understood progression and development - but also had several centuries to do so. Other species had a much shorter lifespan and her assumption was that they were simply born with a skillset that lasted them for the entirety of their existence. Aristren: When was that? Anethra: Many decades ago by now… it took time to figure out the best ways to blend in… and just what I could get away with. Another aspect that was interesting to the Rodulan. She enjoyed being apart from the group, but she did notice how detrimental it was to finding a footing in this new environment. Blending in seemed like an appealing skill to have. Aristren: You look and seem just like anyone else here. Which was her way of affirming that Anethra was, in fact, blending in. Anethra: As I grew older… I stopped caring so much… Nestira was unsure how to reply to that, and simply opted not to reply. Instead, she made her way to the desk, where her travel-crate was sitting. Opening it, its contents were revealed, and they were …. not much - largely clothes. Clothes which seemed to cushion the sculpture settled in the middle. While light-reflecting glass was popular on Basul-Rodul, the variety of basoltile that Nestira had chosen for herself was ivory in color and its sharp edges had something tribal, almost feral about them. Anethra’s eyes widened slightly taking in all the various facets of the ivory coloured sculpture. It was unique, though pretty much every Basotile she had seen was, but most of the ones she had seen were much more flowing in contrast to the one in front of her now, with its sharp edges and comparatively muted ivory colour. Anethra: Wonderful. Simply wonderful. :: She looked to Nestira. :: How long did it take you to create? Aristren: It takes a very long time to make something like it. I practise a few hours every day. Because she did not have anything else to do. She hadn’t made any friends here, and she spent far more time alone in this room than she cared to admit. Anethra nodded slightly. Anethra: You said you weren't an artist, but you sell yourself short. Aristren: I disagree. She gestured to the sculpture. Anethra: I know many who would desire such a thing, simply for its unique beauty. Curious, but understandable. Aristren: I have found people desire a lot of things. And she had no intention of gifting her basotile sculpture to someone else. Because that was what she assumed was meant. Anethra knew the significance basotile held to Rodulans. She nodded slightly. Anethra: That is true… have you ever considered selling it, however? The Rodulan frowned deeply and pressed her lips into a thin line - an expression she had seen on others, and was now trying for herself . Sell it? That seemed like an utterly alien concept to her. Aristren: I did not know someone would want to buy it. Anethra: As you just pointed out, people desire a lot of things. Most will pay to acquire what they desire. That gave her pause. She had hoped to find some kind of work to do, but with her current adjustment issues, that was… difficult. And eventually she would run out of funds and have to return home, much earlier than she was planning to. Anethra: If you plan on travelling for long, having latinum to spend will be an unfortunate necessity. Aristren: Do you know people who would want to buy it? Anethra nodded again, considering for a moment just who might make the right buyer. Anethra: Yes, I think I know just the right buyer for such a sculpture. A collector who can appreciate its elegance and beauty. She nodded. She had seen those people who visited Miranda VII to conduct business, and who showcased their wealth with intricate jewellery and costly looking dresses and robes. Part of her had liked what she saw. Aristren: And can you show me to appear like them? You said you learned, I want to learn too. But I don’t want it to take me a long time. That hadn't been an expected request. Yet it was intriguing. Anethra smiled faintly. Anethra: I can't say how successful I’ll be, but I can try to teach you how to blend in more. Aristren: Good. Anethra: But first– She looked back to the sculpture, then to Nestira. Anethra: You are certain of this? If it is sold, it may not be easy to reacquire, and certainly not for a small sum. After all, one didn't get repeat business by taking advantage of people, and Anethra tried never to do that. Aristren: I am… very uncertain ::she admitted:: Can I think about it first? Anethra: Of course. I will be here for a while yet. There is no rush. Nestira gave a nod. She did not truly want to part with something so precious to her, but the alternative was having to return home because she had failed to blend in and explore the galaxy. And that would turn her promise to Elidi into a lie. The loss of a piece of basoltile was a small price for keeping a promise. END SCENE Lt. Nestira Aristren Strategic Operations Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4 and PNPC Anethra Wandering Art Dealer as simmed by Lt. Commander Solaris McLaren Director of Intelligence Starbase 118 Ops C239210SM0

This amused me.

Congratulations! Welcome to the fleet!

I had NO idea....LOL

This world NEEDS a goat simulator game now!

@Jalana, that's your cue.

Oo, that's not good coming from an Engineer who can dismantle you!

From the narration of Sill-con: This made me giggle.

That pretty much sums up most missions. 😄

Congratulations and welcome! Glad to have you!

((Private Quarters, Schtroumpf Residence, Vulcan)) The nice thing about being retired, Schtroumpf thought, is that there was no paperwork. Not that he resented important, if trivial, work, when necessary. But after decades of guiding his people through the minutiae of bureaucratic maneuverings that (eventually) resulted in the rebuilding of their society, it was nice to just… do nothing. And he could actually relax these days. He had left the Grand Papastaship in good hands—a former aide who had come into her own during the Great Pulsar Crisis. She was his own hand-picked successor (he had always had a special ability to pick good talent and good help was hard to find), but she had really blossomed in the years that marked the Great Reconstruction and, later, Federation membership. But as much as he loved his people, the former Grand Papasta felt that he had, well, outgrown them. A weird new religion had taken grip of the population and while Seccna Gpft was a decent enough individual (may they rest in peace) many of their zealotous acolytes were… less so. And they seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with cookware. Furthermore, the Gelf were not, by in-large, interested in exploring the grand beyond of space. Perhaps these younger generations, relatively speaking, were a little weary of it after the space-borne disaster of yesteryear. But Schtroumpf had felt the call. The call of the stars had been spurred by his first encounter with the aliens and then, later, by the process of joining the Federation. After his Papastaship he had joined the diplomatic corps for a spell and traveled to many distant planets, but even that was part of a former career now. In his retirement, he had taken up residence on Vulcan. He didn’t tell many people this, but he still held out hope that he would again meet the captain of that vessel who had first come to save his people. He stopped actively looking decades ago, after his loud inquiries into Starfleet records had earned him a visit from agents of a new group called “the Department of Temporal Investigation.” He gave up actively looking, but still discreetly, made inquiries here and there to friends. Which was how he got his latest tip. Parappa was still (or again) at the embassy on Earth and had just sent him a most intriguing communique. It was almost too good of a lead to be true. But at last there was a Comodore V’Airu that fit the profile of that woman he had met over a century ago (Earth time). Daring to hope again, he drafted a subspace message: To Commodore V’Airu of the Starship ‘Oumuamua, greetings. I am Schtroumpf, formerly Grand Papasta of Gelf. I have searched in vain for the first Vulcan captain whose crew were so instrumental in my people’s salvation, but have been disappointed for many years. The second Vulcan captain of the same ship was of no help in this matter. But if, through some accident of time or twist of fate you are she, I would very much like to convey my lasting gratitude again to you and your first officer Greaves for your role in giving us hope when there was little of it to be found. Because of your example, I pushed my people to join with the Federation. And while Gelf has not made as much of a contribution as I might have wished, I am proud that we are upstanding members of the galactic community. You may be interested to know that Gelf served as a place of refuge during the Dominion War While I doubt we saved as many lives as Starfleet did during the Great Pulsar Crisis, I am grateful that we were able to, in some small part, pay back the contribution and grace that was once so richly extended to us. I hope our people may yet again, prove as instrumental in saving others as we were saved. If possible, I would like to meet you again, in person. If you are who I think you may be, we have much to catch up on. I am retired now and have the luxury of time and space and would be happy to meet you in any location. I have retained my chef and would love to share again some mushroom tea and crumpets. Regards, Schtroumpf of Gelf With eager expectations, Schtroumpf programmed the address his former aide had found for him and hit “send.” [End Scene] -- Schtroumpf Former Grand Papasta of Gelf Vulcan O239910AP4

((Shared Quarters, Deck 8, USS-’Oumuamua)) Herrick had finished pasting the poster against the top of his bunk. Since he had the bottom bunk, it would only be visible to him… unless someone decided to snoop inside it. His first couple days had been jam-packed. He took off his shirt and looked over his back in the mirror. Tracing the back of his spine was a dark red scar, which he assumed would turn white over time. He knew, without a doubt, that he would never forget his first day on the ‘Oumuamua for better or for worse. Turning the mirror off, he bent over and eased into his cot. Movements were getting easier but there were moments where he could tell his body still wanted him to take it easy. The awards ceremony was going to start shortly, but he had enough time to record a promised message. Herrick: Computer, begin recorded message to my sister and also store a copy as a personal log. Hey, Em. Hope you understand the delay, it wasn’t to build suspense. To say that my commissioned career is off to a great start would probably be the opposite theme to this letter. To give you a peek into how things are going, I may have accidentally put the waste reclamation services out of commission for the good part of a day on the lower half of the ship. I heard the turbolift queues were getting a bit out of hand as folks needed to… go. But aside from blowing up a conduit, landing in Sickbay, and a momento for my efforts, I will say the crew here is super approachable. The Commodore is more approachable than her title suggests, the engineering crew is light and easygoing, and my health is in good hands with the med team. The doctor suggested I speak with the local counsellor about my claustrophobia… At first, I tried to not-so-directly reject the idea. But, it’s been gnawing at me. When I used to get in compact spaces, that memory would come back in an instant. You know, the one where you think it’s going to end, the deck lights flashing in the window as the turbolift free falls and you’re not sure if it's going to stop in time or slam into the final deck. But now, when I close my eyes, all I see is that green plasma fire from the explosion I got caught in during maintenance in a Jefferies tube. So… if I decide to see her, I’ll let you know how it goes. I’ll try to keep my next letter brighter, but we always promised to be open with each other. I need to head out to this ceremony they're doing down on Earth, it will be good to mingle with the crew in a location where I have… limited opportunity to create an explosion. Lots of love sis, and may the gods be gracious with your path. They've had some humor on mine. Herrick: End message and send. With that, Josh pulled his dress uniform out. At that moment, he realized he wasn’t quite sure where his old uniform was. Not that he wanted the singed fabric, which likely had pieces of him still attached to it. He made a mental note to get a new duty uniform when he came back up and proceeded to get ready for the exciting event that awaited. --- Ensign Josh Herrick Engineering Officer USS ‘Oumuamua O240005JH3 he/him/his (player/character)

Congrats and welcome! Glad to have y'all!

((Kapitol City, Sannin VII)) There was a distinctly relaxed feel in Kapitol City once the news of the destruction of Terra Prime reached the city’s wary ears. Almost celebratory – almost. But Sannin VII was a bit too jaded to celebrate the defeat of another petty tyrant at the hands of Starfleet. At least openly. That wasn’t to say that mugs were not lifted to Terra Prime’s demise and the opening back up of the tradeways. That was good news for everyone on the planet and it was worth a drink at least. Nacien Rixx, too, was pleased. The drama of the Trinity Sector had played out, with a few highlights along the way. Not in the least was the crossed paths with the time travelers, which was perhaps the catalyst for many things. The brush with the chaotic tachyon energy opened his mind for a moment to the vast realm of possibilities. Futures that could be, would be and would never be. It made him think about the future once again, instead of wallowing in the ennui of a too-long life lived in exile from his people. A life that started to see the people around him like ants in a farm that he could shape and mold for his entertainment. Which was lonely. He had long since disassociated from any meaningful relationships and taken the backseat role of a puppet master. Never really backing one side or the other, merely moving pieces to see how things played out. Sure, with each move someone was hurt. That was the way of things. When something gained, something else lost. But with a future one started to think of personal paths. And a personal path required some sort of connection to others beyond the role of the chess master. It was a terrifying thought. To become connected to someone or something again. But, as in all the things he did – it was go big or go home. And on StarBase 118, he connected, briefly, to the minds of thousands of people. A distraction. A momentary hold. And then he released them and there was chaos. And he rode the wave. It was the most invigorating thing he could remember doing in the past fifty years. All those minds. All those fragile little possibilities and fears and delusions of grandeur. He had expected them to be dull and laughable, and yet they were so full of fire and brightness. And for the first time he realized that these tiny little transient things were not a tiny low pinprick of light that quietly burns out of sight and mind, but instead tiny little transient bonfires, each flaring with hopes and dreams before getting snuffed out by the march of time. It was mere coincidence that me met another exile of his own species soon afterwards. But it reinforced the decision to consider if he had a path for the future, and if so what that path was. And now he craved that presence. He wasn’t ready for a connection yet. But he enjoyed the presence of someone else like him. And so he had left a suggestion, buried in their conversations to come back. He hoped she had unraveled it consciously or unconsciously. And then there she was. He could sense her as she landed and drifted his way towards her. Rixx: ~Well, as the small folks say, fancy meeting you here.~ There was a quick of humor to the thoughts. Familiar thoughts and a familiar presence, even though his appearance had changed from a rugged, muscular human freighter pilot into something that felt more natural for him. A slender man with dark hair, clean shaven, unassuming. Rixx: I wonder, did you come here for a meeting? That sounded like a typical greeting on Sannin VII. Aristren: I will leave that open for your interpretation. Interpretations were vast and varied. There was a heaviness to her thoughts. Clearly what happened on Miranda VII was dangerous. Nacien Rixx had, for a long time, not given much thought to danger. Because he hadn’t given any thought to the future. He had an exceedingly long life, doomed to spend it all cut off from his homeworld and everything he desired. So each new day was just another mark in the endless slog of time. But now that he was starting to think about the future, the concept of danger became more tangible. Rixx: That is always a dangerous prospect. Never let someone else define your actions for you. His dark eyes twinkled a little. Aristren: Perhaps these are my investigative skills. Perhaps it is fate. I am certain it is not the former, so it must be the latter. Fate. A concept Rixx had put very little stock into in the last few hundred years. He believed that his own hand could control worlds – and if applied right it could. But that was a rather selfish point of view that did not take in any sort of wider scope. There were always things that happened outside of one’s machinations or control. Rixx: Perhaps it is a bit of both. Aristren: ? He looked around the busy square – he was sure she could sense the relaxation of the general population. The almost but not quite celebratory nature of the day, the genial feelings resting under the placid pink sky. Rixx: It is hot, you look parched. Perhaps you will join me for a beverage? Or perhaps to go somewhere quieter. With fewer eyes. Aristren: ? Rixx: I do know a place. He started through the crowds, past the embassy district and into the commercial center that was adjacent to the embassies. It was filled with nice, quiet establishments that catered to diplomats and business people. Places where private conversations were the norm. Arsitren: ? Rixx: One of the perks of an independent trade town is that everyone wants to do business in a quiet secluded place. And the businesses want to cater to that, because latinum makes the world turn. Aristren: ? He gestured to a side street and filled in the details telepathically. There was a place that catered to sweets and teas, a place that catered to fine cocktails, a place that catered to bracing breakfast beverages and savory cakes, and a place that was eclectic and just catered to people who wanted an interesting place to be left alone. All of them had private conversation spaces. Rixx: Take your pick. Aristren: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ pNPC Nacien Alasafor Rixx Rodulan Puppeteer Unaligned

From the narration of Trovek Arys: Because nothing says romance like murder.

From the narration of Ishreth Dal: Which one is worse?

This gave me a chuckle.

Welcome! Glad to have you!

Sometimes it's not just the content, but the titles. I just really like this title and find it conjures a clear image in only two words.

Alora attends the awards in a soft grey dress with off the shoulder sleeves and an asymmetrical neckline of gathered tulle. A satiny underskirt is overlaid with an embroidered leaf motif in subtle, shimmering silver, designed by up and coming Betazoid designer, Nichal Meyrit

Very appropriate considering he's a Brikarian!

((Starboard Nacelle control, USS Oumuamua)) Once more V’Len turned to look at the PADD lying quietly on the control console. He thought once more about picking it up, throwing it into the engine nacelle and heading back down to sickbay. He took another drink instead. He had opened the bottle of Saurian Brandy that his friend Ulasso had given him as a parting gift. He took another drink and then another and lay back on the floor of the room. It was quite apart from the gentle “thrumping” of the engines. They gave an occasional hiss and V’Len had turned to look at the door each time the sound came. He expected to see Millie standing there, ready to work on the nacelle. She never was. Since the crew had returned from 2265 V’Len had been having the same trouble everywhere on the Oumuamua. When the doors to sickbay opened he expected to see Millie. When awoke, his heart sank when he found she was not lying next to him. He’d never met the woman, but somehow her memory was not going away on its own. Worse, he had started to see Millie around the ship. Usually just ahead of him and out of reach. Sometimes there was no one there at all. Other times it was simply another member of the crew. So he’d devised a plan that he hoped would help. As he sat up he felt his head swimming. He took several more drinks and regarded the bottle. It was about a quarter empty. He slapped his chest several times before finally finding his com badge Kel: =/\= V’Len to Jack =/\= The torpedo launchers on deck 17 were only accessible by ladder from deck 16 and during maintenance this room was one of the quietest Jack had found. He lay on his back underneath the port launcher. The main control housing open, exposing a myriad of isolinear chips that provide the control interface matrix to the launchers. Jack was deep in thought when his Trilldorian friend's voice broke the silence in the room. Jack nearly jumped off the floor slamming his head into the torpedo launcher. Either Jack hit his head harder than he thought or V’Len sounded funny. Kessler: =/\= V’Len, are you ok? =/\= Kel: ::slurring his words:: =/\= Jack? Hey, will you come to starboard nacelle control? I need your assistance with a (beat) thing. =/\= He closed the channel and took another drink. By the time Jack arrived the bottle was now half empty and V’Len’s face alternated between smiles and frowns in a way that must have been quite eerie to his friend. Entering the room Jack half expected to find V’Len trapped or pinned to the wall based on his request. Instead the doctor sat, or rather lay on the floor next to a console with a bottle of what Jack assumed was actual liqueur in his hands. Kessler: ::kneeling down beside V’Len:: Hey buddy, you ok? Kel: Oh no man I’m great. ::holding up the bottle:: Want some? It’s from Ulasso’s region. ::looking around:: I forgot glasses, but trust me the alcohol level in this is so high there are no germs alive. ::laughing:: Jack took the bottle and sniffed it. A smile curled Jack’s lips. oO Saurian brandy. Girls have to be involved. Oo Kessler: ::sitting the bottle aside:: Dipping into Ulasso’s private stock again? ::beat:: You were here to work right, not just drown your memories away. V’Len stuck his finger up in the air as Jack reminded him that they were not just there to drink. He slowly tried to make his way to his feet only to flop back down to the ground. He pointed to the PADD wiggling his finger up and down. Kel: That PADD has the Starfleet file on my wife. I need to know what happened to her. Jack followed the invisible path V’Len’s finger made as it pointed up to the console and to the PADD that apparently had the information V’Len did not want to face. Jack reached up slowly and took the PADD from the console and pulled it down to him and pursued the first few lines of information. Jack’s thumb depressed the screen off function and he lowered the PADD and looked back to V’Len. The Trilldorian was in no condition to deal with this information and Jack honestly was not sure he wanted to read it. V’Len was a close friend and Jack would honestly do anything for him but this mentally deeper than anything he thought V’Len had faced and the recent trip to the past had dug up some very powerful emotions. Kessler: I don’t know buddy. ::looking around the room:: Not sure this room or your condition are the best to crack this egg open in. Kel: ::waving his finger in front of him:: Nope. Nope this is the right place. Millie could never get the starboard nacelle on the Exeter to work the way she wanted it to. We spent more time in that nacelle control room than we did in our quarters. ::taking another drink:: This is where her ghost is. He placed the bottle intentionally next to him. And lay back on the deck. Kessler: ::pushing the bottle a little further out of his reach:: Now, Doc you know the ghosts you seek are not in the bottom of that. ::beat:: What do you say we head back to your quarters and we can talk there? It was a good idea, maybe he would sleep this off and Jack could reason with him when he woke up. Or then again, this guy was very stubborn. Kel: No! ::slowly getting up to a sitting position and motioning Jack closer, whispering:: The worm is asleep now. It doesn’t want to know what happened to Millie, but I do. V’Len began to chuckle. He didn’t know what was funny, but it could also have been that he was starting to cry and it just sounded like a chuckle. It was hard to say for sure. Kessler: ::putting on e hand of V’Len’s shoulder to steady him:: Which part of the symbiont doesn’t want to know. Kel: See Xam Kel doesn’t want to know the answer and no other Kel host has ever tried to look her up. I had to get tipsy just to get up here with the PADD and not throw it down the nacelle. Kessler: I really don’t think this is the best idea considering your state of mind. V’Len looked up at Jack, his brow furrowed and his eyes glazed over. Kel: I need to know what happened to her, Jack. I need closure. Good or bad. I need to know. Kessler: ::looking at the PADD and feeling a sense of loss of his own:: I understand the need for closure. I really do. Jack slid to a seated position next to V’Len, his thoughts turning to his parents. Alive or dead no one could answer. The attack on the Caboto had left so many questions and Jack had no closure when it came to his parents so he felt for his friend and knew what he himself would do to get that closure for himself. V’Len lay back down on the floor. He could feel his antenna twitching and the room around him seemed to list and spin oddly. Kel: I see her everywhere. When a door opens I see her walking into the room out of the corner of my eye. Walking down the hall I see her just ahead and I turn a corner and she’s gone. When I wake up in the morning I expect to see her there. I’m haunted, Jack. I’m a haunted house. ::snickers:: Jack patted V’Len on the chest and smiled a small sympathetic smile. He then grabbed the bottle of Saurian Brandy and took a drink. Then he lifted the PADD and keyed it on. Thumbing through the data Jack got to the incident at hand. He read the report and then re-read it again. The report was short and although an investigation was launched the data that was collected seemed miniscule to what he would have hoped to find from what he read. Kessler: ::sitting forward a little:: Are you absolutely sure you want to know? V’Len stared up at the ceiling. There were really two main outcomes that he had thought of. V’Len’s preferred outcome was that Millie met someone and found love again. Xam’s preferred outcome was that Millie locked herself away in a Vulcan monastery never to set eyes on another man again. Xam was very full of himself. Either way, V’Len felt sure that knowing what happened might help the symbiote move past their latest experience. Kel: Yeah. Yeah I wanna know. Go for it. Kessler: ::nodding slightly:: Well, you were right about where she would be. V’Len, Millie died while on duty and at her post. It appears the Exeter encountered some sort of temporal anomaly and while attempting to rectify the effects of the anomaly the ship suffered a systems malfunction. One that caused a feedback and explosion in parts of Engineering and in the nacelle control room. Millie and two other engineers died instantly. Jack looked over to V’Len who laid on the floor. Death was hard to deal with anyway you looked at it. Knowing she died doing something she loved, did that bring any closure to V’Len? Would it have brought comfort to him if he knew his parents died doing what they loved? Jack honestly could not answer that question. V’Len stomach began to churn. Millie had died? That was not an outcome he had even thought of. On the one hand it very much should have, but somehow it was unthinkable. It was like every pain receptor in his body had fired simultaneously. Kel: Dead? ::sitting up and looking at Jack through glazed eyes:: What kind of temporal anomaly? How did the explosion take place? Kessler: ::looking back at the PADD and let out a low sigh:: The investigation was closed. The cause of the explosion was deemed to have been a result of the temporal anomaly. That’s all that is here buddy. Kel: ::agitated:: Thank doesn’t make any sense she was on starbase 12 when we were in 2265. What year did the explosion take place? Kessler: ::looking at the PADD:: 2267, two years after we were there. Jack looked over at V’Len and the Trilldorian was getting worked up at the news. Obviously the alcohol was not helping the situation inside that complex skull of his. V’Len struggled to get to his feet, but failed and flopped down on the floor. Kessler: ::placing a hand on V’Lens shoulder:: Easy buddy, don’t get agitated. Of course as soon as the words came out of his mouth Jack knew that was the wrong thing to say and immediately regretted it. Kel: ::overly agitated:: Well hell yes I’m agitated. There’s no analysis of what happened,no root cause investigation? Did they find a body? For V’Len the last question would have been standard, but the thought of Millie's dead body turned his stomach again. He turned away from Jack and covered his mouth trying to keep himself from vomiting. Kessler: ::popping up onto one knee:: Hey, easy buddy. ::beat:: take a deep breath, nice and slow. The feeling of nausea had passed an V’Len began to slowly pull himself to his feet. He did not make it far before he slumped back down next to Jack. He looked over at his friend. Kel: ::sadly:: I mean I knew she’d be dead it’s been 150 years. I just didn’t think she would have been killed with no explanation. Was she actually in the Starboard nacelle when the explosion occurred? Kessler: ::leaning back against the bulkhead and in a softer voice:: Yeah ::beat:: yeah she was in the nacelle. V’Len crawled over to the bulkhead and leaned against it. Kel: ::chuckling:: Maybe you were right. Maybe this was a bad idea. Kessler: ::sitting the PADD face down on the floor:: Doesn’t matter now if it was or wasn’t. You’ve let the genie out of the bottle. ::beat:: Does it help at all? Kel: Maybe it helps to know. It’s not the good news that I wanted, but it is closure in a way. And I suppose there’s a certain symmetry to it. They both died working to carry out Starfleet’s mission, that’s something. Kessler: ::looking over to V’Len:: That’s got to be worth something. Kel: ::laughing:: You want to know another funny secret? V’Len was not sure why he could not control his laughter. He also wondered why he was bringing this up. Telling Jack about this was probably not a good idea, but V’Len was too drunk to stop. Perhaps it was the guilt he felt for breaking the rules. Kessler: ::smiling at V’Len’s uncontrolled laughter:: I love a good secret. Kel: ::laughter slowing to a giggle:: I violated the Temporal Prime directive. ::chortling:: Kessler: ::chuckling along with V’Len:: You know V’Len, that does not surprise me in the least. ::beat:: hand me that bottle. As V’Len passed Jack the Saurian Brandy, Jack thought about the past and how hard it would be not to try and manipulate it to save a loved one. He would not have blamed V’Len for trying as he was sure he probably would have to save his parents. It would have been wrong and against protocols and directives but how could you not try. The will power involved in that instance is huge and Jack did not think he could have stopped from doing the samething his friend most likely did. Jack took a drink of the brandy and handed the bottle over to V’Len who certainly didn’t need it but now was the time to drown out the nerves of pain. Kessler: What did you do? Call her? Kel: ::looking off dreamily:: Wouldn't that have been great? Something inside Kel was elated with the idea of hearing MIllie say just one word. Kel: Sadly no. Something much more…cringy. I found a guitar and recorded her a song. A song we danced to on our wedding day. Then I sent it off. Kessler: Well, that I would probably have done too. Since you did not actually talk to her ::smirking at the thought:: I’d say you bent the Temporal directive. ::beat:: to be honest, based on what you have told me. I would have done the same thing. Kel: Let’s hope TI doesn't come to ask about it . ::snickering:: Kessler: ::taking the bottle back and taking another drink:: Love will make you do all kinds of things. Good or bad. Jack thought about Michele and his parents. He would certainly do anything to protect them but he had other people on his mind too. One in particular that he was not going to name in front of V’Len. That had already proven a complicated situation for them both. V’Len sat for a moment. He took the bottle from between him and Jack, took a drink and then replaced it between the pair. Kel: Hey Jack. Since I’m drunk and everything? What is the story with you and Michelle? Kessler: There’s no story. Kel: Oh come on. I’m so lit I won’t remember tomorrow. I told you about my ex. Kessler: We dated at the academy. Upon graduation we went our separate ways. Kel: Well she seems very into you. You must have history if not current events. Come on unburden yourself. They did have history. Actually more of a complicated history and one that Jack had not talked to anyone really about. V’Len was his closest friend on the ship and Jack trusted him not to say anything even if he was able to remember it in the morning. Maybe this was a good time to face up to his internal struggles with this situation. At least the Saurian brandy made it easier to face. Kessler: ::leaning back against the wall:: We do have a history. I asked her to marry me during our final year at the academy. I was head of heels for her but she had the more sensible head on her shoulders. She knew that would affect both of our plans. I wanted to command a ship and she wanted to go into medicine. Marriage would have seriously complicated things for us both right out of the academy. Wow that was history. V’Len picked up the bottle and handed it to Jack. It was challenging to think what to say. In some ways it struck him much like the story of Captain Riker and Troi. They had separated to pursue careers only to find themselves back together on the Enterprise D. Jack paused and accepted the bottle from V’Len and took a drink of it. Kel: So you chose not to go through with it. You might have been posted to the same vessel. Kessler: We knew that on the same posting we would not be able to focus on our careers. I loved her and she loves me but we agreed to achieve our goals first and then see where things took us. We made a promise not to get posted to the same assignment so that we would not interfere with each other's goals. V’Len let the idea sink in. It was an interesting arrangement, and it made a certain degree of sense. For his part V’Len only had the experience of his past hosts when it came to marriage. Xam and Millie had a bond that would not be put aside for anything, including time it seemed. Yllom Kel was different. She was a painter and she and her poet husband spent years apart promoting their own work. Her’s was an almost Denobulan style relationship. Eventually they had settled down together and had a small family, but their passions always came first. Artists. Kel: So what does it mean that she’s back? V’Len took another drink and again replaced the bottle. Kessler: Let’s just say her being here complicates things a bit for me. Jack’s mind darted to Nesre and his growing feelings for her but he also knew V’Len had feelings for the councilor and did not want to cause anything that would get between his friendship with V’Len. Things felt too complicated already with Michele being aboard and Jack really did not know what to do with it all. Complicated. That was certainly one word to describe Lt. Winters. She was an excellent medic and had been instrumental in helping him keep up in sickbay. She and Rox seemed equally mischievous. He hoped they never had a drink together. Kel: So what do you think? Could you see yourself spending your life with her? Jack looked over at V’Len. The soberness of the question made Jack think the Trilldorian was not as drunk as he thought but then one good look at the doctor said otherwise. It was a great question and a year and a half earlier Jack would have had a resounding ‘yes’ to that question without hesitation. He still had feelings for her but so many things had happened in the past year and a half that had changed Jack. If he were to be honest with himself then the answer was yes but he was developing feelings for Nesre as well. He shook his head slightly trying to figure his own mental state out. Kessler: ::letting out a soft sigh:: I could, I just have stumbled into something different here on the ‘Oumuamua that I was not expecting. For his part V’Len could think of only a few people he would consider spending the rest of his entire life with. The first to come to mind was Nesre. She was always pleasant to be around whether eating, talking or walking. Heck even when she was stopping him from taking over a starship she was a delight. Rox came to mind too. Outside of work they didn’t do a lot together, but they had a great working relationship and she was always pleasant to be around despite her antics. Kel: Based on my previous host’s experience, marriage is great. For my part I think I’d risk it. Kessler: My parents have a great relationship and marriage for them has been a strong bond. It’s a tough commitment and I don’t want to hurt her or anyone else. Kel: I mean there’s always some risk of getting hurt, but my Trill and Andorian parents were all very committed to each other. Stuff came up and they worked it out. Kessler: I just don’t know what to do at this point. Michele is a perfect match for me in many ways and my mother loves her but in the time I have been here I have feelings growing for another and that complicates things. V’Len picked up the bottle. The volume remaining was low so he tried not to take too much. He had had plenty. He passed the bottle over to Jack. Taking the bottle, Jack raised it to his lips but stopped. Staring at the bulkhead opposite where they sat, Jack lowered the bottle to the deck and sat it down. Kel: We’re both thinking about Nesre right now aren’t we? Jack did not look over to V’Len. Instead he just kept a blank stare at the far wall thinking about all the pieces of this puzzle and how they all affected his mindset and his reality. Kessler: Yep ::the word escaped his mouth softly:: Kel: Valentines day was a bit of a debacle. Sorry, not sorry. Jack looked over to the man and started to chuckle. Kessler: A debacle? ::laughing:: You took off running down the corridor to beat me to her quarters. ::still chuckling:: I could barely keep up cause I was laughing so hard. Thinking back on it, the entire scene as it played out had to have been pretty funny from the point of view of a bystander. V’Len let out a hearty laugh. Kessler: ::leaning his head back on the bulkhead:: Buddy, I would not have had it anyother way. She’s incredible and I am happy you think so as well. Jack looked over at his friend and thought about what the Trilldorian had lost, found and lost again. The emotional strain and rollercoaster that he was going through had to be more than Jack could ever understand. Kel: ::chuckling:: We’re awful chummy for two guys competing for the same girl. Kessler: Look, you are the closest person to a best friend I have and I would do anything for you. ::beat, taking a long slow breath:: You need someone in your life that can give you more than a memory can. V’Len knew he was right. He glanced around the room again. It was much cleaner and more modern than the Intrepid's counterpart. He needed to stop coming here. He’d already been several times since their return to 2400 and it had to stop. Jack eyed his friend and then looked blankly back to the bulkhead. Kessler: I have things to work out with Michele and I do not want anything, especially Nesre to come between you and I. Kel: Not giving are you? Frankly Jack, I can’t imagine Nesre with a nicer fellow. ::shaking his head:: Gosh that’s weird to say. Jack smiled but shook his head from side to side. Kessler: No. I am going to back off. You go after her. Enjoy life again my friend. ::beat, thinking deeply:: I need to stay focused on my true goal and right now I am getting sidetracked. There was a rub. V’Len cared for Nesre very much and the fact was he enjoyed being her friend. What would happen if he messed up the friendship in some ham fisted attempt at romance. Could they be friends if a romance didn’t last? Worse too was the way he was concerned Nesre might see him. As a project, as a broken thing needing fixed. His transporter accident, his cardiac inducer and now his past lives. Nesre always seemed so well put together. How could he be more than a burden? Kel: ::hesitantly:: If you say so. Jack knew half of this conversation would be lost to the drunken state of his friend and come morning much of the brotherly sentiment he felt for V’Len would not translate over but it was the right thing to do. Both for V’Len and Nesre. Jack had gotten sidetracked from his mindset to become a Captain and that was not a life that was shared with family very easily. Yes, his father was a starship Captain and his mother went everywhere his posting took them and although they made it work and seemingly easily, Jack knew it was a tougher life on both. It had been the reason Jack and Michele had made the promises to each other that they had. Only now with his parents missing in action Michele had taken a new course of action to be at his side. One that Jack had found fault with but now maybe he needed to embrace the decision she had made. Kessler: ::handing the bottle to V’Len:: I mean it plus I have seen the way she looks at you. You two would be great together. Just treat her right. Kel: You have my word of course. Jack started to stand and felt the weight of the Saurian brandy hit him. oO Oh boy this is going to be fun. Oo He thought as the room started to spin. Looking down at V’Len he knew getting this guy back to his quarters was going to be a bit more work. Kessler: ::picking V’Len up to his feet:: Come buddy, to your feet and then to your quarters. You need to sleep this stuff off. V’Len stood shakily and leaned against Jack. The pair wobbled out of the control room, leaving only the silence, a PADD and an empty bottle of Saurian brandy. Lieutenant Jack Kessler Chief Tactical Officer USS Oumuamua T239901JK1 & Lieutenant V’Len Kel Chief Medical Officer USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 He/Him (character and player)