Sal Taybrim

October 9, 2020

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Sheila smiled in that sad sort of way as she leaned heavily on her crutches. She was disappointed that she couldn’t give a solid answer on that subject. Disappointed with that empty sensation where her chest was too loose. Yael was smart, knew what he was talking about, gave straight answers which Bailey sadly couldn’t seem to give in return.

This is the sort of character exposition that really helps us connect with a PC. Wonderful work!

October 8, 2020

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Whatever Dara knew (whether she knew anything) was thus thoroughly lost in translation.

It was probably just cat stuff.

Probably.

Probably.

October 7, 2020

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Speaking of, these mammals appeared to be clothed. Clothed by their keeper, no doubt. Perhaps they won’t move because they are waiting for the return on their keeper? Trained so well that they would be obedient to the end? Possible that alien mammals could be smarter than on the homeworld.

we're only *slightly* smarter >.>

October 7, 2020

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He was well aware of the irony of assiduously avoiding the Endaasi telepathy, only to have his hand forced - literally - by the situation.

Perhaps he should meditate on that. Just not right now.

The vulcan answer to all bad things: Meditation.

Actually, that's a good answer.

October 7, 2020

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Spears: Two boat rides on one shore leave? I'm feeling spoiled. Though I could do without the perilous darkness...

It's just a little bit of peril...

October 3, 2020

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Meeks: Yeah, dying isn’t exactly on my list of things to do today.

I like Meeks' attitude! <3

October 1, 2020

Gul Dukat!! How could we leave him off the list?!

September 27, 2020

OOC - in my 2am haze I grabbed the wrong sim >.<
Let's try this again ❤️

This was raw and beautifully written
~*~

((Ejectable Quarantine Labs - Starbase 118))

(Day of -> 2 Days after the Narendra’s return)

The pods that’d been transported had been added to a storage frame repurposed from the cargo areas, leaving them looking less like isolation pods and more like massive construction pieces. Taelon was vaguely reminded of the massive pipes he’d seen being transported by the cargo runners he’d gotten to Earth with. Either way, it gave the rescue operation something of an industrial air, especially when the massive cargo loaders picked them up and slid them into the ejectable labs.

The first stage was - well, barbaric, but necessary. He’d sealed himself into a section of the ejectables so he could monitor progress without having to open the suite to outside comms, and the usually shy and reticent El-Aurian watched with a strange coldness as the drones were dragged from their isolation pods onto a flat table, the spider-like remote surgery robots going to work with abandon. Limps were removed entirely; replaced eyes and skull pieces were deconstructed and taken away, leaving open voids in the skull. It happened quickly; the robots worked incredibly quickly, and within half an hour what had been a tactical drone was a limbless human, their skull open through the eye socket. Their pale skin was unhealthy and drained of life after years in the Borg’s grasp.

But the attaching of life-saving backup systems and stitches could only come when the nanites were gone, and Taelon stared intently at his monitors as his countermeasures went to work as soon as a section was removed. An internal battle for control was never going to be healthy for the host, and small bruises appeared on the human’s skin as the nanite’s fighting ruptured small blood vessels.

It was awful, what the Borg did - removing and assimilating whatever they didn’t need. Taelon had been raised to see cybernetics as something quite normal, desirable even - but they were supposed to help and enhance a willing subject, not be applied as a method of control. The Borg’s cybernetics were a way to force a living being to serve them. It made him sick to see it.

Thankfully the sealed-off nature of the quarantine labs neutralised the Borg’s greatest advantage. With no hivemind to connect to and take information from, they could only adapt slightly. It was a rare advantage against the Borg, one that made any of this possible.

The process took about an hour on the first subject. The limbless, unconscious body was hurriedly moved to a second bay within the lab, this one with an entrance to the Starbase itself, and attached to life-sustaining backup systems and monitors. The next step was Doctor Foster’s - to remove and replace the infested and dying organs and seal up any openings.

The third step - full replacement of their now-missing limbs and non-required pieces - would come days later. Taelon had plans for that, too, but for now his priority was the drones. They could live in status once removed from their Borg parts, but they wouldn’t live forever in the pods.

He sealed the connected section and sent it away towards the medical bays, taking a moment to rub his eyes. He’d brought only a large thermos of coffee and a scone into the lab with him, and that’d have to do. Once the process had started, he’d no intention of stopping til all the drones they’d managed to grab were in a safer state.

Eventually, as exhaustion set in, he set his ARIA to play music. It kept him awake, and as he worked, it was easier to coordinate movement and steps to the beat.

And so the process went on, drone after drone. Some were faster, some took longer; the tactical drones in particular were the most difficult, as the Borg had done the most damage to them. The Andromeda’s crew were faster; most got to keep their limbs, eyes, and organs. A small mercy, considering what the rescued full drones looked like.

In the end, Galven was one of the final pods, the Commander’s unconscious body slid onto the table. He was simple, thankfully - he only had a flood of nanites in his system. But they’d injected into his heart and brain, and so Taelon tiredly watched the lifesigns as the nanites battled things out, the man’s heart surging and bleeding, his brain misfiring and sending his limbs twitching. It was difficult to watch, but necessary. Eventually, Taelon’s crafted nanites won out, again.

With Galven sent along the process line to medical, Taelon slid down the wall of his observation chamber, slumping to the floor. It’d been close to 40 hours; his thermos was empty, the food long gone. His body was protesting with every muscle. Still, as things were closed off, he reached to the control panel and flipped the switch. It sent the signal to eject the lab, leaving the observation chamber in the airlock as the lab was jettisoned into space. A final precaution to ensure no loose nanites made it onto the station.

Only when the observation pod had been cleaned completely did he stand up, shakily, and step out of it into the airlock. The blank, opened-ended area was a contrast to the lab that had sat there just a few moments ago. He hurried to the doors, tapping his commbadge.

Taelon: =/\= Doc-doctor - ::He couldn’t help but pause to yawn.:: =/\= That’s the last of the, of the drones. I’m - I’m on my way to Medical now. =/\=

Foster: ?

Taelon: =/\= P-provided they’re all stable and in, um, in stasis, we can start the next step. =/\=

Foster: ?

Taelon: =/\= Rebuilding. Should start from the inside out, organs, then limbs… =/\=

Foster: ?

Tag/Tbc

Ensign Taelon

Starbase 118 OPs

O239303T10

September 26, 2020

Just wanted to add my praise @Sheila Bailey, this was a fantastic sim!

September 25, 2020

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Lystra: So far Rumbly isn’t giving me much reason to believe it isn’t trying to kill us.

Rajel: I don't believe that Endaasi is out to do that. It's a planet not a villain.

Well, yes

September 25, 2020

A really lovely conversation that shows both characters beautifully ❤️

((Starbase 118 Ops - Karen Stendhal’s Office))

Alora stood outside the doors that led to the office of one of the

base’s counselors. She had requested an appointment and been assigned

Karen Stendhal. She inhaled three times, small steps. Small steps.

Then she let go. As much as Alora appreciated counseling, and knew it

was useful and helpful, it was still hard to go. She encouraged others,

but she also understood their hesitation. With Raymond, she had a great

rapport. They were friends. Talking to him was easy. However, he

suggested she get established with a counselor on her station. Raymond

was available when he could be, and he would continue to do so, but he

said it was good to establish with someone who could be present in

person. So...Alora was going to take his advice. At least this was

someone with whom she was passingly familiar. Karen Stendhal had been

one of the women she’d met at the tea shoppe, so at least she wasn’t a

complete stranger.

Finally, Alora stepped forward and the doors parted. Stepping into the

office, Alora smiled at the woman she hadn’t seen much of since their

little tea party.

Karen was just finishing to get the things done in her new office.

She chose a new area after she took over Malko, the previous counselor

of the Station, cos she thought that a fresh start would be better and

also cos the crew was used to him and probably everybody was still

missing him or waiting for his return.

The office now was looking more like her one aboard of USS Columbia, or

at least in her mind it was. A large sofa next to a smaller one with a

tea table, few chairs, a big holographic painting representing the pink

lake of Mitzawal with the forest cherry of happiness in flower.

Piles of pad was on her new desk, loads of files still waiting for her.

She still didn’t had time to finish, also because the previous mission.

DeVeau: Hi Karen.

Stendhal: Hi Alora. It's nice to see you again.

Said Karen with a gentle handshake with both of her hands.

A deep look in her eyes for an empathic preview of the reasons of her

visit, but without any ‘intrusions’ of her thoughts...

DeVeau: Yeah. I uh...thought I’d come in, get established with a

counselor. You know, that sort of thing.

Stendhal: Yeah, you know that I’m quite new here? I’m certainly still

establishing here as a counselor! Do you like a cuppa tea and a chat?

She smiled blinking her eyes as she noticed that she feelt a bit uneasy

to go to for counseling, so she tried to drop it to a simply chat with

a friend.

DeVeau: Tea would be great.

And appropriate considering how they met. Besides, tea always made a

situation better.

DeVeau:. I prefer herbal, though, if that's okay.

Stendhal: Well, no worries! Do you know that probably you are the first

one coming here? What an honor!

She jokes, showing up a posh box with a large choice of herbal tea bags.

Alora chuckled softly as she sat down on the smaller sofa in lieu of one

of the chairs.

DeVeau: Being new doesn't make you any less capable. You were the one

listed with an open appointment at the time I requested, so it worked

out well.

Stendhal: Well, I’m glad that I was free, so hopefully I’ll be able to

help you.

Karen slowly walked to the large sofa sitting down on the side closer as

possible to Alora. She had a thought back about her first experience on

board of the Columbia, with Luna and her pink hairs. She smiled as the

dark hairs of Alora was certainly an improvement.

The kettle was ready on the small table so she poured the tea in two

cups. An Herbal tea and a decaf tea with a shot of milk for herself.

Alora accepted the warm cup of tea and sipped at it. It was a light and

fruity concoction, right up her alley. She detected hints of some

citrus fruit, possibly Bajoran in origin along with some sort of spice

that was similar to cinnamon, but with a little cooler pallette.

DeVeau: Thank you.

Stendhal: You’re very welcome! Don’t forget to pick up a cookie with

your tea! You have to accept a cookie in order to interact with me.

On the small table there was also a selection of various kinds of

biscuits..There was also a cuddling relaxing music in the background.

Alora examined them a moment before picking up a chocolate chip cookie.

Chocolate always improved things.

DeVeau:. We'll, I'm not sure where to start. I'll admit to feeling awkward.

Karen joined her hands together but touching the end of her fingers only.

Stendhal: From the beginning? Or whatever place you feel more

comfortable with? We can even just talk about your experiences and how

you feel now that you’re back aboard the Station? Anything…

Anything. It was such an open ended invitation, it really didn’t help,

though Alora knew the counselor was trying to prevent limiting her.

DeVeau: Ah, back aboard the station. It’s good to be back home. It

always is, especially after a mission.

Especially after a mission that involved the Borg! Even if it was a

rogue collective, they still gave her the heebie jeebies.

DeVeau: I know you were on that mission too. I have to admit, I’m glad

it’s over.

Stendhal: Yes I was on the mission too and I’m very glad it is over too.

Karen had a sip of tea.

DeVeau: The Borg frighten me - and that’s putting it mildly. I would

say getting assimilated is one of my worst nightmares.

One of them, but not the top one. She had others that overshadowed even

that. Unfortunately, they weren’t of what could be, but what had

already come to pass.

Stendhal: Sorry Alora, are you here to talk about our fear of the Borg?

Karen had another sip of her tea looking for her reactions in a kind

way, always smiling. At the first look Alora DeVeau was a strong one,

with a very stable personality, and a beautiful woman. Karen looked

directly in her eyes, there was something deeper, something not in her

record.

Alora hesitated. Not really, no, though that was certainly something

they could talk about and work on processing, but there were other

reasons why she had come. The problem was, trying to open up. Getting

started was the worst part. Once she got started, sometimes it was

easier. Sometimes.

Karen moved even closer, risking to fall on the floor because she was

sitting now in a tiny tiny space on the edge of the sofa. She took one

of her PADD abandoned on the tea table and she tapped something, then

she put it on her lap.

Stendhal: mm…

She just said, like an almost silent affirmation.

DeVeau: I suppose that might be good to discuss.

It was true, but it also wasn’t the main reason why she was coming. The

main reason was difficult. Extremely difficult. Alora wasn’t sure she

could talk about that - even if the woman was nice and approachable.

Raymond had been there when everything had happened. He’d come to visit

her in Sickbay. This was a bit of a different scenario - even if Alora

knew it was necessary.

DeVeau: It was...interesting, facing that fear, I guess. Okay, not

interesting. Terrifying.

Karen's left eyebrow moved up a bit, Alora was holding something very

deeply.

Under the surface and behind those green eyes. Anyway, she wouldn't

force her too much. oO She will open up when it will be the right time!

Oo She thought.

Stendhal: Yes terrifying, I don't like the Borg, well who likes them?

Have you met them in person?

DeVeau: I haven’t, but I suppose there’s going to be a first time. The

Borg don’t seem to be going away.

Stendhal: I agree, I'm afraid that they won't give up easily…For sure I

won't suggest anymore to use nanities as a shortcut to solve a problem!

I did that when we were researching about the deadly fog. Bad idea!!!

DeVeau: Oh?

Now Alora was curious. She nibbled on her cookie, then took a sip of

the tea before asking.

DeVeau: Why do you say that?

Stendhal: Cos there was really a risk to lose control of the nanites,

little or big now we know what’s happened to the USS Nimitz.

DeVeau: But if there's an effective way to fight an enemy, particularly

using technology that they use, shouldn’t that be done?

Stendhal: We find a safer way using different technologies, with little

robots to get rid of the poisonous gas. Much better than playing God

with nanites…There’s also some theories about the species 001, at the

beginning they were like us… Then to reach the perfection they started

to include the ‘synthetic’ and the nano tech. We know how it finished...

DeVeau: Why do you think it was playing God?

Stendhal: Uh ? Err isn't It some kind of unnatural manipulation of

things? Like… what's happened, you know, the eugenics like Khan and

brothers?

DeVeau: What about those who currently have nanites? Those who need

them to survive? What about those who don’t currently have nanites, but

whose lives were saved because of them? What if there were a way to

safely control them and be sure they wouldn’t pose a threat?

Karen paused for a moment, for Alora that topic was something of? Personal?

Stendhal: Well everybody thinks to be able to control them, but then we

finish in a Nimitz situation… Everything screwed up, with a bunch of

drones with pseudolatin nicknames killing and assimilating everything

and everybody...

DeVeau: Right, but the nanites we’re dealing with are not of our

creation, they aren’t of our technology. What’s to say, though, that we

can’t learn from that? What’s to say we can’t find way to improve and

make that technology

Stendhal: Maybe one day we'll do, but for now isn't it like with the

eugenics?

If used well it may improve our life, but is illegal, because the

improved humans become dangerous at one point. Anyway… Do you have any

experience with nanites?

Karen tapped something else on her pad..

DeVeau: Some, though this is the first time I’ve dealt with the Borg

themselves.

Though Alora did have to admit, her experience with them was minimal and

had only been in the context of missions. She was a Botanist and a

Zoologist, so that was where her specialties lay, though that hadn’t

stopped captains from assigning her to deal with scientific concepts

outside of those specialties. She’d learned from the beginning that all

officers had to be flexible and adaptable.

DeVeau: Do you?

Stendhal: Nope not really, not before last mission. Anyway I didn't mean

the Borg, but the nanites in general and the one builded in labs for

medical research …It seems that for you is really an important matter…

DeVeau: Really? I was about to say it sounds like an important matter

to you.

Alora’s lips curled up in a small smile.

DeVeau: You certainly seem to have strong feelings about them. Have you

had previous experiences, not necessarily with the nanites themselves,

but with bad consequences related to the Borg or other nanites?

Stendhal: No, not really...

DeVeau: I’m curious, then, why you seem to have such a strong stance

against them.

Stendhal: This must be a misunderstanding of some kind here.

Karen nervously had another sip of tea, who was counseling who now?

DeVeau: Yes, you mentioned eugenics, and that is illegal, but is

manipulating the genetic cold of a preborn person the same as using

nanites? If so, how? Why is there no difference between them?

Stendhal: I don’t know, honestly is just an opinion in front of a cup of

tea. Well, it seems like you had raised up your ‘shields’ instead of

opening and relaxing, my dear …

Now what do you like to do?

DeVeau: Actually, no, I'm quite relaxed. I found the conversation

interesting. It seemed to matter to you as well.

Alora sipped at her own tea, her smile hidden only briefly.

DeVeau:. It's a topic that requires discussion and contemplation, and

certainly not one with easy answers. However, by talking about it, it

helps us wrestle with the hard questions while, at the same time, allows

us to learn more about others as well as ourselves. ::She paused for a

moment to allow herself to finish her cup before continuing.:: Is there

anything you would like to discuss?

Stendhal: Well, you are not an easy client, did you know that?

DeVeau: I am?

Stendhal: Alora, the fact that you come here means that probably you

have something to talk about you... Statistically and in my experience

is about family issues about the choice of starfleet or similar, but it

can also be about love, work or some issues related to workmates.

I don't think you are in this categories.You seem strong and in good

health conditions too.

She smiled at Alora.

So did that mean Karen didn’t think she needed counseling? Raymond

might have something to say about that, but Alora wasn’t going to

argue. She liked Karen, but she just wasn’t feeling the comfort she

needed to feel to open up to the woman.

DeVeau: ::With a giggle and a grin.:: Does that mean I get a clean bill

of health?

Stendhal: Ehm not really, my dear. You won a weekly appointment with me.

It will take what it takes, one hour, one month or one forever! Do you

prefer Tuesday or Thursday?

She smiled.

DeVeau: Tuesday, after my shift is over.

Which could change, depending on what was needed and when, but Alora was

pretty sure the counselors knew that.

DeVeau: Will that work for you?

Stendhal: Yes of course. That will be perfect!

DeVeau: Great, I’ll see you then.

Stendhal: See you and thanks for the nice conversation. Can't wait for

our next one.

She smiled again.

Alora rose and nodded, returning the smile. As she left, however, she

was unsatisfied. Karen was extremely nice. So sweet. But...Alora just

didn’t feel like she had clicked. Of course, that could also simply be

because she hadn’t given her enough time. She supposed only time would

tell.

*******

Liutenant JG Karen Trisha Stendhal

Counselor

Starbase 118 Ops

ID: C239604KS0

&

Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau

Science Officer

Starbase 118 Ops

M239008AD0

September 25, 2020

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::Nijil frowned deeply. He could hear the undertones. Something had happened. The voices were clear over the comms, it was like front row seats to audio drama.::

Tune in next time on how the assimilation turns...

September 19, 2020

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Alora’s eyes closed as the familiar voice cut through the commlink. He was alive. He was alive. He was alive.

He was dead. Oh he was _so_ dead. When Alora got her hands on him…

How (not) to win friends and influence people...

September 17, 2020

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Spears: You're like that too, Cade? We might make helmets cool, the two of us.

Tall people problems... 😄

September 16, 2020

Paradi beams the cat directly to sickbay? Done. 😁

September 15, 2020

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McLaren: Andromeda survivors first, Max. Sickbay should be ready for them.

Maxwell: And here was me going tae beam over the ships cat first.

I'm sure that there is support for this very idea from some of our readers! ;)

September 8, 2020

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Had the Captain not done it, Sol would have. She also likely would have knocked German on his butt, but since the Captain was already there, she settled for fixing German with a glare that had actually earned a reputation back at the academy during her classes in interrogation. It turned out that people didn't quite like being glared at by red eyes. The white hair didn't help, it made her look a bit like a demon from some ancient folk tale.

That is one evocative glare!

September 8, 2020

Bashir's Secret Agent one. That is 110% because Garak.

September 6, 2020

I have really been enjoying the viewpoints of these poor, assimilated crew, who are empathetic even as they are doing cruel terrible things beyond their control.

((ECS Andromeda – Corridor))

Routing information flowed into his nanite enhanced brain, filling the biological components to their capacity. He knew the Andromeda now, at least the layout of the ship, as well as he knew the Nimitz. All of the information was stored within his memory.

Renati turned down the next corridor he came to, following the internal maps. One turn, then another, and before long he would be where he needed to be to intercept the interferers. Hatred filled his chest with every step. He was beyond assimilation now, and all he wanted to do was destroy them… all of them. His pace quickened, from a jog to then an all out run. It was time for them to be eradicated.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Renati skidded to a stop at the closed doors. The power systems had failed, and the doors refused to slide aside as they should have. He stood momentarily, staring at the doors as if they had intentionally stopped his procession. The cybernetic components in his brain calculated the shear weight of the retaining systems, the weight of the doors, and the force that would be necessary to defeat the barrier. His biological brain, on the other hand, saw the doors through a lens of venomous hate. Then he heard the scream, not from the neural net, but with his ears.

Cautus: No! W…

The sound of his fellow Nimitz-Borg sliced through the air like a hot knife through butter, then came the aloud bang and the voice was cut short. The sound stabbed at his brain, and the anger swelled. They would die… they would all die! Drawing every ounce of strength from the nanite enhanced musculature, Renati drew back and flung himself against the doors. The metal buckled and flew from him as if they were made of nothing. The left door crashed against the wall on opposite the opening, coming to rest on the deck with a crash. Renati did not pause, but allowed his momentum to take him into the hallway.

His eyes caught the sight. Juvantibus and Cautus were on the floor, and the intruders were kneeling over them. Drawing an un-necessary breath, Renati ran toward them. Hate and rage fueled his muscles, driving him faster and faster toward the ones he disposed the most. They would die, and he would be the one to bring them their fate. He expelled a low roar for pursed lips and gritted teeth.

The flashes came in rapid succession, and the impacts were nearly immediate. With each hit, Renati felt the burning increase in his chest. His biological heart exploded, ceasing to pump the needed biological fluids through his body. Still, he drove his legs to propel him forward toward the destruction of those who had interfered with the Nimitz-Borg’s work. He was leaned forward, running full out. Then his body failed. The oxygen deprived muscles could no longer fulfil the demands from his brain, which was beginning to starve from the lack of oxygen itself. His internal organs, what was left of them, failed from the lack of blood.

Inertia propelled him forward, but without the appendages to motor him, his heavier torso carried forward while the lower portion stalled. Quickly, the floor came up to meet his face and he slid to a stop. His ears rang, but the sound slowly faded to a non-existent din. Nanites worked feverishly to repair his systems, but the damage was too great and the destroyed organs too far gone. Like little lights, the nanites blinked out as if a switch had been thrown. The Borg components were gone in an instant.

A second of clarity returned to him. His human brain once again in complete control of his thoughts. He was not Renati… his name was Steve, but his memory contained it all. Everything he had done was there. All of it.

A tear slipped from his remaining eye and down his cheek, and his world faded to black.

-Fin-

Lt. Commander Steven “Renati” Ormsby

Engineer

U.S.S. Nimitz

As Simmed By:

2Lt. Anthony Meeks

Company Commander

1/292^nd TMR D Co.

Starbase 118 Ops/USS Narindra

R238801IG0

September 2, 2020

(( Courtroom 407, Starfleet Judiciary Facility, Andoria ))

Skepus’ eyes narrowed as he gazed down his nose at the defendant on the stand. It was uncommon for a defendant to sit on the witness stand, but as Skepus had learned in the weeks prior, this particular defendant was easily led. His own counsel had even (unwittingly) expressed exasperation at their client’s bellicose and short-sighted desire to never appear weak.

Aria sat back examining and reexamining their evidence, and it was a mountain full.

Skepus: Admiral Fraser, just so we’re clear, you maintain that you did not order *anyone* to alter the logs of the Constitution?

The round-faced man on the stand had become quite incensed and red at the line of questioning.

Fraser: No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Skepus: You don’t know about the altered logs of the Constitution?

Fraser: I’m not familiar with that ship. I hear the captain is a nasty woman, though.

Skepus raised an eyebrow and looked back over his shoulder at Aria. The two had somewhat improved their relationship by working on the same team for once, instead of against each other. He looked to her to see if her face gave any hint of how he might proceed. All it revealed was frustration.

Aria’s hands were balled into fist under the table. She was thankful that she hadn’t chosen that moment to take a drink. She could feel her blood pressure rising and her heartbeat thumped in her ears. oOThat lying, conniving Oo Her stomach was doing flips at the waves of arrogance pouring off from Fraser. It didn’t take an empath to know he was right proud of himself. She was seeing red.

Skepus turned back around toward the Admiral and exhaled.

Skepus: Sir, your own logs show you personally signed the orders for the Constitution to investigate Xatrac City. Of course, your logs reflect different orders than were sent to the Constitution, but nonetheless–

Fraser: I don’t recall that. I sign lots of orders.

Skepus: Are you saying you do not read the orders you sign?

Fraser: No, no, I read them but you know you read them and sign them and that’s it they’re gone.

Aria cringed. That hole was getting mighty deep. His own incompetence might do him in.

The man spoke without punctuation, as if he were unfamiliar with the concept. Skepus pursed his lips and clasped his hands behind his back. He turned to the bench.

Skepus: Your Honor, I request a recess with my partner to discuss a matter of the case.

The judge silently nodded. She had been reticent the entire case, merely watching.

He returned to Aria, with only the hint of flames in his eyes. Fraser was infuriating!

Maddox: Thank the Four for that. I cannot take another minute of his…. His arrogant self-congratulatory behavior. Be thankful you are a touch telepath and not an empath.

Skepus chuckled.

Skepus: Indeed. But what do we do about him?

Maddox: I have an idea.

Skepus nodded in approval.

Maddox: He is so arrogant and thinks he can do no wrong, get him talking about his assistant. The one that tampered with the logs,. ::scaning the files:: Lt. Dolen. Eventually, at least likely, he’ll start on about how he could have done it better if he had just done it himself.

A wry smile cracked Skepus’ face.

Skepus: You’re devious.

Maddox: I think I’ve been working too closely with you. You’ve rubbed off on me.

Aria shook her head as Skepus staled back to the floor. At least this time they had a plan.

Skepus had already returned to stalk back to the floor and resume questioning when he hung his head and shook it, smiling. She certainly had a way with words. Truth was that working together felt good. Felt damned good, and reminded him about what he saw in her in the first place. “Rekindled” might be too strong a word, but he felt that they were more than mere friends. She was someone he could trust.

Skepus: Admiral, let’s set aside orders for the moment. What can you tell us about Lieutenant Dolen?

Fraser: Good officer, works hard.

Skepus: He was identified, tried, and convicted of tampering with official Starfleet orders and records.

Fraser: :: defiant :: So? What’s that got to do with me?

Skepus: Sir, he served with you for the past 12 years.

Fraser: Ok.

Skepus: You have no comment on his conduct?

Fraser: No.

Skepus: He implicated you, which is why you stand trial today. He says that you ordered him to make those changes. He produced evidence :: motioning to the display :: such as extemporaneous memos claiming you ordered him to “make it go away.”

Fraser: What he does is his business.

Typically, the prosecution is disincentivized from screaming in primal fury in the courtroom. So Skepus took a step back, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Time to let Aria have a go with him. He walked over to her and leaned in, to speak in soft tones.

Skepus: I cede him to you, Aria.

Maddox: Gee thanks. Just what I never wanted ::she chuckled::

Skepus: Glad to be of service. :: He swung around the desk and sat next to her. ::

His game had always been to get people talking, peek through their words to see the truth, provoke them into admitting something… Fraser’s tactic was so blunt and unbecoming that Skepus couldn’t get anywhere. Skepus had begun to understand his error: not everyone is decent at heart.

Aria took one last moment to scan her files for anything useful before she stood. He was prepped and ready for any material they threw at him that was trial related. It was time to shake the ground beneath his feet. Time to get him unsteady.

Aria stood gracefully and walked to the floor where Skepus had just been occupying.

Maddox: I read somewhere that you are close to retirement, surely you have had an long and interesting career.

Fraser: Young lady, you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve achieved.

Maddox: I’m sure that’s true. Do you mind if we speak hypothetically for a moment? Surely, your experience might help shed light on a situation that is most unfortunate.

The round-faced man’s features softened a bit.

Fraser: You ask and I’ll have it solved before you’re done asking the question.

Maddox: Well, then let’s give this a go. Say we have a Starfleet Admiral, who is close to retirement, and he sees a culture that has a rare thing, let’s say a gas. He knows immediately that it has an immense value, but it isn’t without risks. So he sends a ship to negotiate a possible trade deal, but it goes horribly wrong in ways he never could have known… what should he do? His career and name are in jeopardy if word gets around that he signed off on it.

His demeanor shifted.

Fraser: Well, I wouldn’t know anything about all that. You know, I heard the Constitution captain broke all sorts of rules.

Maddox: We were talking hypothetically. Though, it’s interesting that you felt it was about you.

Fraser: You can't prove that.

Maddox: Prove what? That we were talking hypothetically and you made it about you? Actually, yes I can since there is a room full of witnesses. Anyway, you said you could solve it, so what would you do?

Fraser: I– look, I think i’m just about done being on the stand.

Maddox: What would you do if your name was on the orders?

He recoiled in his seat. He wasn’t used to be addressed like that.

Fraser: I don’t have to answer that.

Maddox: What would you do if your name was on the orders?

Fraser: :: angry :: I’d–I’d–

Maddox: ::louder and sternly:: What. Would you do. If your name was on the orders?

Fraser: :: shaking, beet red, and stamping his feet :: Change them! Change the orders! I’d change the damned orders, ok?!

Skepus was wide eyed. She’d gotten to him far faster than he thought possible.

Maddox: ::Calmly:: I’ll raise you and give you one better. What about having someone else change them?

Fraser: What?

Maddox: Why would an Admiral get his hands dirty, unless…

Fraser: Unless what!

Maddox: How do you go in and change ship logs Admiral?

Fraser: I, well see. You need to address the computer to alter the, er, identity of the date, and…

Maddox: You don’t actually know do you?

Fraser: :: thinking he was making a point :: Exactly. Which is why I couldn’t have changed the orders!

Maddox: But Lieutenant Dolen could. You worked with him for 12 years. You knew what he was capable of. You were his direct Commanding Officer. Your wish was his command. “Make it go away”. Did you order Dolen to do it for you?

Fraser: Wish I could make you go away. :: Standing up :: I’m done.

Maddox: Answer the question and I’m gone.

Fraser: No. :: Be bent over and pushed open the half-door, and moved to return to his seat. ::

Skepus watched closely, his hand covering his mouth as he propped his chin up.

Maddox: Your Honor, I wasn’t finished with the Defendant.

A bailiff looked to the judge for orders. The judge, turned to Aria and Skepu, looking inquisitively.

Skepus motioned to Aria to come over to him.

Aria saw Skepus and complied, waltzing over like it was just a casual day in the park rather than the court room… just to irritate Fraser.

Skepus: Let him sit back down. I think we got everything we could hope for from him. Plus he looks like an absolute ass.

Maddox: Do you think it's enough?

Skepus: I’m not sure. :: His gut said yes, but he couldn’t trust it anymore after ‘Rajel’ :: But we still have Dolen and the medical reports of the Admiral’s psych workup.

Maddox: I can keep grilling him. I can serve him Medium well or well done, whichever you prefer.

Skepus: I’d rather him burnt to a crisp. :: Looking her in the eye and placing his hand on hers. :: I know you could. But let’s let him cook himself.

Maddox: ::addressing the Judge:: Actually, Your Honor, the prosecution requests a recess.

The judge’s eyes darted back and forth between the defendant and the prosecution. Before nodding to a bailiff.

Bailiff: Judge Riva agrees to a recess of two days. The defense would be wise to remind the defendant of the rules and regulations of this courtroom.

The judge nodded in approval of the Bailiff’s words. In a short while, they had collected their things and left the courtroom.

((Flashback, Trial Prep Federation v Fraser))

It looked like it was shaping up to be a working dinner. Aria had spent all day trying deperately to consolidate the notes that she and Skepus had kept during the Rajel trial. It was a mess. His notes were all along the lines of “Jalana violated this general order” “Her crew’s incompetence…”. Her notes were the only to contain any notion of what actually happened. And it didn’t really help them now.

Maddox: Did you gather ANY evidence for the trial or did you just bully people and leak things to the press about me?

Skepus: *Excuse me,* I had a job to do and I did it to the best of my ability. Lot of good that did me.

Maddox: Yeah, it really paid off I see. Care to add anything or… I don’t know, help me maybe. I have been reading these PADDs all day and have precisely nothing new to add.

He was slouched in his chair but straightened up when she jabbed at him.

Skepus: I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m helping to organize the notes, aren’t I?

Maddox: You are getting a second chance. Act like it.

Skepus: Mm. And we’d better not mess this up.

Maddox: Then help me read. My head is killing me.

He dispondantly picked up a PADD and began scrolling through it, highlighting the important parts of the notes.

All of the bravado, the swagger, the confidence… it was all gone.

Aria clutched her head in pain, a fresh wave washed over her that felt like she was being stabbed and electrocuted. Maybe she worked too hard, slept too little, but it didn’t explain the pain getting worse.

Skepus: :: Looking up and noticing her expression, concerned :: Are you alright? Do you need a doctor?

Maddox: I did get it checked, actually. Dr. Spears didn’t find anything amiss; aside from my lifestyle. I am a diagnosed workaholic it seems.

Skepus snorted in agreement as he turned his eyes back to the PADD.

Skepus: Happens to the best of us.

Maddox: Well, I don’t see any other betazoids running around clutching their heads in agony. I have named the headache though

Skepus: :: not looking up :: What ignoble title have you given it?

Maddox: Skepus. I think it might have earned a last name of Fraser though.

Skepus: Yes, this case should be open-and-shut, but did you take a look at his most recent psych report?

Maddox: ::sarcastically: No, I was too busy looking at yours. In all honestly, yes I did and it is deeply troubling.

Skepus: He sounds like a treat. I suppose they were going to just let him ride to retirement. His service record shows he was a skilled captain in his time. Captained an Ambassador class. Decorated several times over.

Maddox: Being a Captain doesn’t make you a saint… in this case it makes you a pompous slimeball.

Skepus: Did you see the note about 2364?

Maddox: Briefly saw it listed but zoned out. We need food… and sleep. I feel like I’m on a meltdown.

Skepus: Just a moment ago you were admonishing me for not working enough. :: beat :: In 2364, he was taken captive by an apparent Romulan splinter group for about a month. From there on out, his psych reports show him unfit for command, and was “promoted” into an obscure desk job.

Maddox: Wait, seriously? ::taking the PADD unceremoniously from Skepus’ hands:: That does explain one thing for sure.

Skepus: Well, yes, how he got the job.

Maddox: No, why he had it out for Jalana. Her sterling career and his desk bound one.

Skepus: ::struck with sudden realization:: Motive, or at least more layers to the motive.

Maddox: It’s a start surely ::Shaking her head slightly that she was about to admit this:: Good job!

Skepus: Maybe we should leave it here for tonight. Get some rest.

Maddox: Maybe that’s a good plan. We made some progress tonight. I’ll see you in your office around 0700?

TBC

Lt Commander Aria Maddox

Starfleet Legal

Defense Attorney

Simmed by

Lieutenant Ravenna Carter

Medical Officer

USS Constitution B

C239607RC0

Lieutenant Commander Skepus

Special Prosecutor

Starfleet

As simmed by

Lieutenant Lazarus Davis

Chief Science Officer

USS Constitution-B

C239510LD0

(he/him; player & character)

“Tis true, ’tis pity, And pity ’tis, ’tis true—a foolish figure” - Polonius (Hamlet, 2.2.100-101)

September 1, 2020

Congratulations Ensigns! Welcome to the fleet!

August 6, 2020

Quote

He’d been there, done that. Regretted it. Regret was illogical, but not all that was true was logical. All that he could do was learn from it, and hope that others might learn from his mistakes.

wise words from a wise Vulcan

August 4, 2020

Just plain creepy! Love it!

((NucleaCell, USS Nimitz))

Almost a decade ago, the crew of the USS Nimitz had been infected with an unknown virus that the medical officers couldn’t figure out a cure from. Even going as far as using different types of medicines to combine with one another, hoping there’d be a way to slow the virus from manifesting itself. With no hope from even neighboring planets, they had to figure out something because nearing the end of their fruitless trials, nearly eighty-two percent of the Sovereign class starship had succumbed to the plague.

Without much fortitude to live on, the former Captain’s adversary became themselves. Nothing to gain and unable to help the helpless soon overwhelmed the remaining crew, soon beginning to take their own lives. The ship’s power systems faded and soon began to drift as the life support dwindled until they drifted toward a planet’s gravitational pull which caused some sections to pull apart, then the chief scientist picked up some unusual signatures from beneath the planet as the alert rang out to abandon ship.

Trudging along the planet’s surface while in an unknown and foreign sandstorms was no easy task as the scientist had also brought along some of her own department officers and several others from different duty posts. Not many had survived the landing as they could see from the clear patches through the blinding, dirty wind that now the ship was using the planet’s atmospheric as an orbital path which they realized after finding a mining entrance that there were Borg nanoprobes keeping the Nimitz from crash landing.

Of course it didn’t make sense, but Commander Sidney Holtz wasn’t the chief science officer for no good reason. She wanted to get to the bottom of it so she started to do some quick research and determined that the nanites were acting as some kind of healing devices as she and the crew walked further inside and began to feel better. With that kind of instant cure and satisfaction, she was determined to get back up to the ship with samples of probes that she began to experiment with back in her main medical science labs.

Right from the start, there were issues that began to arise. Sidney developed an obsessive need to perfect anything that became a problem which fixed that problem, but then something else would come up. The nanoprobes were doing their designed functions, but would adapt to gain control of itself rather than go by Sidney’s commands. The short dark haired, caramel complexion, toned, and determined senior officer constructed a plan which never finished as the nanoprobes noticed a pattern and ended up going around what the commander did before she even thought of it.

Ever since then, Sidney was soon enveloped into the main provider which caused the AI computer to react and change into her own consciousness. Feeding into anything that looked like they were sick, the ship began to act as if it was a sentient being. With only one mission in mind and that was to cure anything that it determined was sick and needed treatment. Even if the Nimitz itself felt it was feeling ill and needed a boost of energy by stripping away its own parts to gain another spacecraft section.

Juvantibus was her name now. The Latin term meaning “from that which helps” and refers to in the medical context, “the process of making an inference about disease causation from an observed response of the disease to a treatment.” Her Designation being One of Twelve, Secondary Adjunct of Unimatrix Forty.

The black, snake and leather like cables that held the top half of her body began to lower her from the former chief science office, connecting her to the lower part of her cybernetic body. As she was finally put together, Juvantibus presented a soft smile as she sort of mechanically swayed with her hips, moving her arms back and forth, approaching a monitor that displayed anything outside the ship. One of her drones had spotted a vessel that had plenty of supplies that the Nimitz Collective wanted.

Since the ship wanted it, the Nimitz fired a couple torpedoes at the medical freighter. A direct hit both times, but the vessel was still operational. They don’t ever want to intentionally harm anyone for their mission was to assimilate and add others’ superior features into their Collective for the greater good of the Nimitz.

Drone: ?

Juvantibus of Nimitz: ::glances upward without moving her head:: Hail them. Let the Nimitz Collective see if they will comply. ::turns with a sickening, yet sensual grin::

Drone: ?

Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= We are the Nimitz. Cut engines and prepare to be boarded to be added to the Nimitz Collective. =/\=

Sadger: ::she put on her most confident tone.:: =/\= Who are you? What do you want? We are on a mission of peace! =/\=

Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= Peace is the cure all. The causation from an observed response of the disease to a treatment. Your freighter will adapt to service us.

Sadger: =/\= This is the ECS - we are on a delivery with much needed supplies to put colony worlds - =/\=

The information the medical vessel relayed to them was perfect for the end goal. Getting to that goal was going to be either faster or slower than what was needed. Being out in space for eight years didn’t make a difference because the amount of time passed to what comes in the future was irrelevant. The Nimitz locked onto the vessel with a tractor beam.

Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= We are the Nimitz. Where your culture was going is irrelevant. Your biotechnological distinctiveness will be added to our own. From this moment, you will be added to service the Collective. =/\=

Sadger: =/\= ?

Drone: ?

Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= Irrelevant. Lower your shields and surrender your ship. Initiating the cutting beam. =/\=

Sadger: =/\= ?

The Nimitz didn’t have a cutting beam functionality. The Borg technological weapon wasn’t any type of addon. The nanoprobes were going off on what they knew from being manufactured on a Borg Cube years before they were on the planet. Still, Juvantibus was running on programs and codes rather than thinking for herself.

Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= Prepare to be boarded by the Nimitz Collective. =/\=

Sadger: =/\= ?

-----

Juvantibus of Nimitz

Nimitz Collective Leader

One of Twelve, Secondary Adjunct of Unimatrix 40

V239507GG0

August 4, 2020

I found this way too amusing...

Quote

He had a hunch. A not good hunch. A hunch that fallible people made a terrible mistake.

And from Lieutenant Stendhal:

Quote

((Ooc. A funny thing: at first I’ve read: “He had a Lunch. A not good Lunch. A Lunch that….” Lol))

You know when you have a bad lunch you get bad hunches... it's true! <3

July 25, 2020

Is it dusty in here?

Fondest of farewells, but not goodbyes @Kudon! The Resolution is lucky to have you! We'll see you always around the fleet ❤️

((Kudon's Quarters on Starbase 118))

((OOC: Although I'm transferring to a ship that will be more appropriate for me in terms of the number of posts, I will miss everyone. I have gotten to know so many of your characters and had so much fun interacting with them. I hope to do some cross-posting and JP's in the future! Bye everyone!))

Kudon had packed up all of his belongings, not that he had brought all that much and he lifted up his bag and was about to leave when it occurred to him that he really wanted to do a proper goodbye. He put his bag back down on the bed and had a seat on the mattress. He did not have time to go visit everyone he wished to, since he had to get to the USS Resolution soon. But that did not mean he could not find another way to say farewell.

Kudon: Computer, record private message to deliver to Commander Galven. Begin recording...

Commander, I wish to thank you for your mentorship of me. I know you may not have intended to be a mentor, but when we spoke after the mission, you made me feel better about my experience of fear I had during it. What you said has very much stayed with me and I am realizing that by choosing to have emotions, there are certain things that are just unavoidable. You gave me the hope that I can handle them. And come to think of it, I have only been on one away mission so far, making you the only superior officer I have had on one. I am not one to say much, so I will stop here. But know that you have my thanks and I was proud to serve under your command on Vankoth II.

Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Lieutenant Casparian. Begin recording...

Romy...as fellow engineers I still wish we had had more time to interact as professionals. But I am glad we did spend some time together. It was nice having you over for dinner with a few others. At least I was able to cook for you. Good luck dealing with Rusty. I wish you the best for the future.

Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Commander Deveau. Begin recording...

Alora. I knew you for a very short amount of time, but it was appreciated. Our talk on the Holodeck was very helpful for me...helpful for me to think through what it means to be a Vulcan with emotions. And I enjoyed sharing musical interests. Take care, Alora.

Kudon: Computer transmit message.

He paused for a moment, thinking about how he felt that he and Alora could have been friends if he were not being transferred. Part of him wanted to say this, but it did not feel like an appropriate thing to say to a superior officer. Plus Kudon was just plain shy.

Kudon: Computer, record private message to Commander Hael. Begin recording...

Rusty, what can I say? You are an...interesting person. I'm sorry we did not work together too often, since I was away on mission. But I will remember all the Terran food you exposed me to. And keep listening to Orion.

Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Lieutenant Bailey. Begin recording...

Lieutenant, I am sending this message to say goodbye to you. We may not have known each other personally well, but I will always remember our mission together on Vankoth II. You showed what real bravery was in the way you took charge when Commander Galven was hurt. And I have wanted to tell you for a long time that I admire how much you persevere through your physical challenges in higher gravity. You are an inspiration since when many in your situatoin would have given up, your effort never wavers. I hope the rest of the crew can appreciate that about you.

Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Captain Taybrim. Begin recording...

Captain, I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to serve under your command. Your awarding me the Inspiration Ribbon and promoting me to Lieutenant Junior Grade are among the greatest honors I have ever received. I do hope our paths cross again and I will be eager to serve under your command again if the circumstances permit. It has been an honor, sir.

Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Ensign Taelon. Begin recording...

Taelon, I want to tell you that you are a fantastic science officer. The work you did with the Breathers was of the highest caliber. You certainly deserve the Innovation Ribbon far more than I did. I may have tinkered with them, but you created the machines in the first place. I am sorry we will not be working together anymore. But know your work is appreciated.

Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Crewman Swenhart. Begin recording...

Miskre, our last interaction was less than pleasant. I still do not know why you ran out of my quarters...but since I am leaving I want you to know that it is ok and I am not angry anymore. I will always remember you as the first person to show me around Main Engineering. It was an act of kindness that made me feel welcome.

Kudon: Computer, transmit message.

He could have gone on all night, finding things to say to everyone. Kudon had said enough private goodbyes. There was just one more for the records.

Kudon: Computer, record message to all senior officers on Starbase 118 Operations. Begin recording...

To my superiors and those equal in rank, I wish to say a brief thank you and goodbye. Although my time with Starbase 118 Operations has been rather short, it has been an experience I will always remember and you have all played a significant part in starting my Starfleet career. I leave having learned more than I have given and it is my sincere wish to take all that I have learned and make the galaxy a better, more humane place. You all make me proud to be a Starfleet officer. I certainly hope our paths will cross again.

Kudon: Computer, transmit message and add it to my personal log.

Kudon picked up his bag again walked to the door, and before it could swish open, he turned around to take one last look at his quarters. He had not spent much time in these quarters, since he had been away on the Narenda for much of his assignment. Nonetheless, he had started to get used to the idea of them being his home and it felt oddly sad to leave them behind. Though he was nervous about transferring to the USS Resolution, he felt that in some ways it was not so much goodbye as a calling to a different part of the same Starfleet mission. And more than anything, it was that mission which he was proud to commit his life to. Kudon turned around and left his quarters for a bold new adventure.

Lieutenant JG Kudon
Engineering Officer

Starbase 118 Ops

O239703K10

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