Sal Taybrim

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

Well, yes

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

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

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

Tall people problems... 😄

Paradi beams the cat directly to sickbay? Done. 😁

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

That is one evocative glare!

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

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 1/292nd TMR D Co. Starbase 118 Ops/USS Narindra R238801IG0

(( 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)

Congratulations Ensigns! Welcome to the fleet!

wise words from a wise Vulcan

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

I found this way too amusing... And from Lieutenant Stendhal: You know when you have a bad lunch you get bad hunches... it's true! <3

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

Oh please, say it ain't so! :D

No riding high speed lifts with drunk people!

Congratulations Ensigns!! Welcome to the fleet!

((OOC: This JP with Noelle has been in google drive for a LONG time. So it is finally time to post it )) (( Quarters D'Sena )) The announcement about the Vacation planet had been ship wide, so Akeelah had heard it too. She couldn't imagine that the planet was suitable for her visit in the wheelchair and she was not yet stable on her legs. But what had really occupied her mind since then was the invitation towards families. Her own family was too busy to get all the way out here and the only family that she wanted to see even more was across the galaxy on Starbase 118. She sat behind her desk, the small box in her hand open, displaying a Jade ring she had not yet sent back to Jack. It had been surprisingly had for her to do so because it felt like she had a piece of him here. Her mind went back to several months ago when he had sent it to her. (( Flashback - about a year ago )) ((Starbase -118)) There’s a lot of work that goes into planning a wedding. Seriously - like a lot. And with so much distance it’s astronomical. At least for most people. However this was Jack Gard and Akeelah D’Sena we’re talking about. There were things to decide, however, both big and small. Decision of big and little consequence. First and foremost, the ring… something not so easy. Jack had gone to various little shops looking for just the right ring. Something that said… Something that was ‘Akeelah’. Which seemed harder then he had originally thought. They were too small, too flashy, too… everything. Anything. Nothing was right. Computer replicas, by the thousands, took to long to sift through causing him to abandon such endeavors. It was bordering on frustrating. Why couldn’t he find what he wanted? It wasn’t until he received a little package in the mail. In a hand made box with ornate oriental patterns all about it. It was small and could have easily gotten lost, and yet many took care to bring it to his personal quarters, hand delivered. He sat quietly, simply looking at the box. Jack knew who it was from, the only people in his life who would send such a box. What he didn’t know was what was inside it. He took a sharp breath in, held it for a long moment while his hands reached out. One on the lid the other hold still the rest. Like a bandaid, he opened it swiftly. There was cotton-like material stuffed inside. He curiously pulled out the stuffing, a small clater fell on his table top. His heart nearly skipped a beat, as his eyes fell upon the small jade rings laying tied together. Those were the wedding bands that belonged to Tabby’s grandparents, before they renewed their vows and gave each other two new rings. These were old pieces of jewelry, handed down to each generation. It had been discussed that Jack and Jessica were to get them. But he had been stubborn, insisting on something new, bright and dazzling. Believe it or not, but he had been a bit foolish in his younger years from time to time. He swallowed hard, picking them up and holding them in the palm of his hand. They felt… heavy. This was not only approval of the marriage, but also an unspoken question to carry on their tradition, to keep their part of the family apart of his… apart of Tabby’s. He squeezed them tightly as his chest clenched too. It had been a long time since he thought of his passed wife. Was it selfish? Foolish of him to let his mind wonder to her, knowing he was working getting to ready to marry another… he hoped she would be happy for him, that he’d finally moved on and found such happiness and joy. He would send them to Akeelah, seeking her approval. There was no way for him know if she would see the honor or the taboo in keeping the rings. He wrote her a long letter, talking of all sorts of things; his had, how Tabitha was doing, and school. He asked her of her day and her health. And at the very end, before signing off, he asked her about the rings. . ((USS Constitution, Marchlands, Akeelah D’Sena’s personal quarters - a little while later)) It had been a busy day full of work and rehab. Akeelah had finally returned to her quarters. She had gotten used to gauging the distance between the wheels of her chair and the doorframes or the furniture. Such a long time in this thing would do that. As always her first way was to the desk in the corner, where she pressed a button to activate a small holoimage that flickered into existence. The piercing warm eyes of Jack looked right at her, beneath him the sparkling bright eyes of his daughter Tabby. Akeelah smiled gently, running her fingers through the apparition, tickling over her skin as they went right through it. Computer: One message waiting. The reminder of the computer, which had noticed she was around, pulled her out of her melancholy. She missed both of them. D’Sena: Play message. Computer: One delivery for Akeelah D’Sena has been placed on the table. She pulled her brows together and turned her head, noticing the small package on the table top. While she wasn’t a big fan of strangers entering her quarters without her being here, she appreciated that the delivery had not been delayed or taken back to the service offices. Placing her hands on the the wheels of her chair she moved to the table and picked up the small package. Opening it she found a letter first and a smile played around her lips as she recognized Jack’s handwriting on the paper. It was as if she could hear his voice, telling her about his day, all the things that he and Tabby did. Her cheeks flushed at some parts that went into a lot of detail about how much he missed her. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t feel the same way. As the letter prompted her to open the package inside, she pulled it out and opened the box, revealing two circular objects made of a green shiny stone. She pulled one of them out and noticed that they were heavier than expected, the light from the ceiling reflected on the smooth surface. D’Sena: ::mumbling:: Beautiful… but what is it? She went back to read the letter and her brows raised when she read the explanation Jack had included. Her eyes went back to the rings, forehead furrowed in confusion. D’Sena: Computer, what is the meaning of wedding rings? Computer: In various cultures a wedding ring or wedding band is a finger ring that indicates that its wearer is married. It can be manufactured from various materials. Depending on culture, a wedding ring is typically worn on the base of the left or right ring finger. Many spouses wear their wedding rings day and night, causing an indentation in the skin that is visible even when the ring is removed. Certain cultures consider it unlucky to remove a wedding ring once it has been placed - D’Sena: Stop. ::She watched the ring curiously.:: Why is it important? Computer: Due to their design wedding rings are seen as a symbol of eternal love and has been an emblem of love through time, a symbol of devotion and an agreement between two parties to love and cherish one another. D’Sena: Huh… It was the first time she actually had heard about wedding rings. The time off her own home planet had been limited to the Academy, the Apollo and the Constitution. She was aware of married couples, but hadn’t known that they wore something to show their unity. Since Rodulans didn’t marry this was all new to her. She still held the ring between her fingers and in the spur of the moment pushed it on her left ring finger. Raising her hand, she looked at the contrast between the jade green and the dark skin. The heavy material did its own to make her realize that something was on her finger. She could imagine it to be a constant reminder of her bond with Jack. Was this why people wore these? She couldn’t help but smile. D’Sena: Computer, establish connection to Lieutenant Jack Gard, Starbase 118. The computer beeped in compliance and the screen popped into a rotating Starfleet logo. Since it had to go through all kinds of relays she knew there would be a delay but she didn’t mind those few seconds of waiting between answers. Gard: ::somewhat concerned:: Akeelah? ::he scanned her face. He hadn’t expected to hear from her.:: Is everything alright? D’Sena: What? Can’t I call my fiancée out of the blue? His features softened, giving her one of his ‘just for you’ smiles. It was nice - more than nice really. Gard: Fiancée? ::he teased her lightly.:: D’Sena: I looked up the term. I used it right, didn’t I? ::She was worried to have learned the wrong term for a moment.:: Gard: ::a single nod.:: Yes, you did. ::he assured her.:: D’Sena: Good. ::Relief washed through her:: I got your package. Ah, so that was the reason for the call. They were from two different worlds - meaning there were differences and one could make the other uncomfortable if they were cautious. Gard: And? ::he asked.:: D’Sena: Did you buy them? Gard: No, ::he sighed slightly.:: Tabby’s grandparents gave them to me. D’Sena: Your parents? Gard: No… ::he repeated.:: Her mother’s parents. ::hesitantly.:: Akeelah tilted her head ever so slightly, a gesture that anyone but Jack wouldn’t even have noticed. D’Sena: Are these the rings you and your late wife wore? There was no judgement or anger in the words, just sheer curiosity. Gard: No, we didn’t take them at the time. ::curiously.:: does it fit? She looked down to her hand, the ring embracing her finger was out of camera view. With a material like that changing the size would have been hard, and how big was the chance of it actually fitting like that? It was like it was made for her. She raised her eyes again and then her hand followed, showing him the jade ring on her finger in a beautiful contrast to her dark skin. D’Sena: It fits perfectly. Gard: ::better question.:: Are they acceptable? The gaze of her pitch black eyes softened, something only noticeable when one had spend a lot of time looking into Rodulan eyes. She knew he tried hard. Since her people didn’t marry they both didn’t have a script to go by. There was no example on how to deal with these two cultures and traditions entering this kind of situation. All they had was their love and their compromises to make this special for both of them. D’Sena: They are beautiful. He was relieved. Part of it because he couldn’t seem to find anything he liked better and partly because of what it meant to Tabby’s grandparents. Jack offered a soft smile in return. He wished he could see her in person, how he missed her. There was a Terran saying that fit this feeling: distance made the heart grow fonder. He must have gotten lost in thought as she spoke up again. Her voice low with a hint of the emotion that bubbled just beneath her surface. If he hadn’t known her so well, he might have noticed. D’Sena: ::Lowering her hand again:: I will return the box to you, to keep them until we need them. Gard: Is there anything you’d like - something specific from your world or beliefs in regards to the wedding? They hadn’t had much chance to talk about such things in details. So it was a lot of guess-work and trying to find a happy balance. While he’d gone through the process once before, Akeelah was a different woman and her needs were vastly different from his first wife. Something he appreciated. D’Sena: My people do not have traditions or rituals like weddings. ::She thought:: But we have a bonding ceremony. Since I honour your traditions, maybe we can implement some of mine. Gard: Absolutely. ::as if she really needed to ask.:: I just need to know what. Akeelah began to speak of her own traditions and Jack listened to her description of something she wished to bring into their wedding. It would be a mixture of Terran and Rodulan and them. Which seemed more than fitting. He smiled softly as she explained yet another facet of her people’s culture. Gard: I think that will fit nicely. D’Sena: I am glad. He gave a long pause, studying her face. Memorizing her features. It would be some time still till he could be close to her. Before he could hold her again. Distance was a terrible thing in reality. D’Sena: I wonder where your thoughts are. If he had been here, she would know. But this was how things were right now. He had duty to uphold far away. Gard: Hmmm? ::He was pulled from his inner thoughts.:: I’m sorry - I was just thinking about … how much I wish there wasn’t so much distance between us. ::he admitted.:: D’Sena: ::A more open smile, she placed her hand on the screen.:: I wish the same. I can't wait to see you again in person. ((/Flashback )) She took a deep breath and brushed her fingertips over the smooth surface of the ring. She missed him so much it was painful. But it would be worth it in the end. If the time apart had shown her one thing it was that her heart didn't easily change. Maybe someday soon she could tell him in person. ---- Lieutenant Jack Gard Engineer simmed by Lieutenant Commander Nijil Executive Officer Starbase 118 Ops USS Narendra A239202RH0 & LtCmdr Akeelah D'Sena Security Officer - Momentarily off duty simmed by Commodore Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Co-Facilitator A238906JL0

I do love me an instrumental, something preferably with a lovely cello mainline and a nice deep bass to communicate the fathomless expanse of space

A really lovely character building JP, showing off what can be accomplished with a little teamwork during shore leave! ((Atmospheric Lab, Deck 510, StarBase 118)) DeVeau and Kudon had just ended their meeting with Galven and were about to proceed along a few tracks to determine the best way to neutralize the Death Fog leftover on Vankoth II. One was to separate the silicon from the silicon platinum chloride. The second was to add ascorbic acid to chemically neutralize it. And there was the third possibility of a combination of breaking the Death Fog molecules apart and adding something. One way or the other they needed to get rid of the SiPtCl2. There was also the matter of getting more accurate data from the Klingons on the level of Death Fog in the atmosphere Kudon: So, Commander DeVeau, shall we go to a containment holodeck or do you want to work on the models first before trying them out? DeVeau: Best to take things carefully I think. Let’s work on a few models, then test. The two of them headed to the Science Main Office on Deck 506 to develop the models together. Once there, the two sat down at a computer station and started exploring possibilities. Kudon: I would recommend that we first translate the algorithm into Klingon and send it to them and hopefully get their data soon. The more accurate our data, the better our models will end up being. DeVeau: And the sooner we get that information, the sooner we can find a solution. Agreed. Kudon: After that, I would be most interested in us starting on a model on your idea of adding ascorbic acid to see what effect that may have. While he was genuinely interested in DeVeau’s theory, Kudon also knew it was smart to defer to one’s superior officer. He would get a chance eventually to try out his model. Better to show respect first. DeVeau: We can run more than one model at a time. ::Alora pointed out.:: So let’s be efficient, eh? Making the best use of their time would get to an answer sooner rather than later. Alora focused her attention on the task at hand. Translating was made a little more difficult by the fact that some of the vocabulary used was not common. Some words didn’t have straight Klingon translations. Eventually, however, they accomplished that task. Then they went about setting up the models. If they gave promising results, they would then take them to the holodeck and run some tests. While they waited, Alora leaned back in her chair and studied the man across from her. DeVeau: So please tell me about yourself, Kudon. This took Kudon quite by surprise. He was not used to superior officers, especially ones he just met, to want to get to know him. After a moment of hesitation he replied. Kudon: Well...what exactly do you wish to know. DeVeau: Whatever you’re willing to tell me. He wasn’t sure where to begin, so he just went with the basics. Kudon: I am 22 Terran years old and fresh out of the Academy...plus one mission obviously. I am from Vulcan. That wasn’t surprising to Alora. While not all Vulcans were born on Vulcan depending on what their parents did, most were indeed from their home planet. DeVeau: How did you end up in Starfleet? Kudon: I’ve always known I wanted to be an Engineer. Or at least a science officer. At the Academy, I focused on maximizing the efficiency of fusion and warp core engines when they are operating together. He was presenting what was his usual stump speech about what work he had done. He usually assumed superior officers cared more about his resume than his personal life. With Hael as quite the exception...in many ways. DeVeau: Surely there’s more to your life than that. Vulcan’s weren’t generally known for being forthcoming, but Alora did prefer to get to know her comrades. After all, they worked together, they lived together. They fought together. They were family - maybe not biologically, but family none the less. Kudon: I spent little time off planet growing up on Vulcan. My youth was rather immersed in a number of different Engineering projects. I entered many science competitions and I will be honest that I won most of them. If I may, Commander, if we are aquainting ourselves with each other, may I ask what brought you to Starbase 118 Ops? DeVeau: Why certainly. I was assigned here. Before that...well, I can’t say, classified, but before /that/, I was in the Shoals on the Veritas. Kudon: Interesting. That must have been quite different than here. DeVeau: Yes, very. Being on a base is quite a bit different than being on a ship, but not only that, the area was different, the people different. Atmosphere in general. The way you live is… Just then, an alert went off on the computer and Kudon took a look, Alora following suit. Kudon: The first iteration of each of our three models has completed. The two of them scanned over the data results on the screen. DeVeau: Oh, this looks promising. Alora pointed at the information on the screen, though it was quite unnecessary. Kudon: Yes, it appears that Silicon can break off from the platinum chloride, as long as the temperature is kept within reasonable range. The model with adding ascorbic acid is also successful. What readings do you have on the model with both splitting the Silicon and adding the ascorbic acid? DeVeau: Same - results show in an effective break down of the Fog. Kudon: So all three seem like effective methods to neutralize the gas. The trouble is figuring out, which one is best. And I don’t like the p-value of breaking off the Silicon only being .03. 97% chance of success is good, but a lot can go wrong 3% of the time. While Kudon certainly wanted to go with whichever model produced the best outcomes, part of him was very hopeful that his Silicon model would work. This algorithm that had now been modified multiple times to detect, and now destroy Death Fog, was his ongoing project and if his theory of breaking off the Silicon were correct, it would help him feel somewhat redeemed for the limitations his algorithm had faced during the mission. DeVeau: True. Alora broke off, pondering the information they were presented with. Kudon: We can recalibrate and try another model run, but I think we need that data from the Klingons before we can do so. DeVeau: I concur. The more information we have, the better we can prepare, the better success we’ll have as well. We’ll, unfortunately, have to wait. Kudon: Very well, Commander. While we are waiting, I understand you are from Earth, correct? Alora leaned back in her chair, crossed one leg over the other, then used the foot that remained in contact with the floor to twirl around. When she was facing the Vulcan again, she nodded. Kudon was rather taken aback that his superior officer was twirling on a chair in front of them. Not that he necessarily minded, but it was not what he expected. On the other hand, she did seem to want to get to know him. He could show her the same courtesy. DeVeau: I’m an Earthling, born and bred in Georgia, spent quite a few years in Japan. Some of my family still lives there. Question. Kudon: Do you want to ask me a question? DeVeau: What kind of music do you like? Kudon: That is a..surprising question, but I am happy to answer. In fact, Commander Hael is the only person I have spoken with about music since I arrived. We both appreciate an old Terran group called Metallica. If you haven’t heard of them, they were what was called metal. Very emotional music. In fact, I like most music that expresses deep feelings. At that point, Kudon wondered if it made sense to tell her that he was a Vulcan that had chosen to experience emotions. It helped fit with his like of emotional music. But he hardly knew DeVeau and he did not want to seem like he was confessing or giving up some dirty secret. So he kept quiet about it for now. DeVeau: Do you like to dance? Kudon: Well, metal is not exactly the type of music to dance to. But come to think of it, I have never danced to any type of music before. What do you ask? DeVeau: Just curious. So what type of things do you do when you have downtime? What floats your boat? Kudon: What floats my...what? Alora giggled and twirled around, this time in the opposite direction. Kudon felt strange that she did the twirling again. As someone who chose emotions, coming from a culture that does not, he usually struggled with ambiguous social situations. And here he was not sure what the line was between professional and personal communication and behavior. He found DeVeau to be a very nice person, but nonetheless he felt awkward. DeVeau: It’s an earth saying - it means, what interests you? Kudon: Oh I see...I enjoy cooking a variety of different dishes. Sometimes I’ll replicate certain ingredients, but I like to make things from scratch as much as possible. It feels very creative. I like to cook dishes from a variety of cultures, not just Vulcan. I also read a great deal, about engineering of course, but I took a number of Academy courses on interstellar diplomatic relations, so I enjoy reading about how different planets, empires, and so forth both cooperate and compete with one another. What about you? What...floats your boat? Alora grinned. A Vulcan who expressed emotions /and/ adopted idioms. She knew they existed, but she’d never met one before. Very interesting. DeVeau: Oh, lots of things, really, but I’ll just choose one. Singing. Kudon: How long have you been doing that? DeVeau: Since I was born. Alora grinned and shrugged. DeVeau: My mom’s a musician, I heard it in the womb, evidently, I came out singing myself, so to speak. Kudon: What is your favorite part about it? That was not a simple answer. Alora leaned back further into the chair pondering the question. She forwent twirling about and, instead, just turned it from side to side a little as she considered the question. What was her favourite part? About singing? DeVeau: I guess...being able to express one’s self in a way that’s augmented by the music. Pain is more painful, joy more joyful when music is added. And then...being able to become someone else and something else, even just for a little while. Not because I dislike myself, but because it’s interesting to explore different thoughts, ideas, and situations. Which...kind of goes along with another thing that floats my boat - acting. Kudon: Wow, that does sound very enjoyable. You should get some of the other crewmates together and we could all do it as a group. I almost forgot to ask you, what kind of music do you--- He was cut off by the computer alert, just as DeVeau had earlier. The Klingon data had come in. Kudon: The Klingons certainly sent us the data very quickly. It is not like them to be so immediately cooperative. At once, Alora was all business. As much as she enjoyed learning about people, she also knew there was a time for chit chat, and a time for work. She eyed the data on the screen and nodded. DeVeau: Sounds like they want to get rid of this stuff as soon as possible - which is understandable. Kudon: What I’d like to do is have the computer translate it back from Klingon and then run our three models again. DeVeau: Okay. Alora didn’t argue though she was fully capable of translating it. Perhaps he wanted it written down, which she could understand. As he started the translation, Kudon was starting to fill with excitement. There was just something about the combination of abstract mathematical analysis with real life data. Kudon: Reverse translation complete. Ready to input the data into our three models. Let’s see what kind of light we can shine on this Death Fog. Alora took a few moments to read over the information, though she chose to do so in the original Klingon. DeVeau: Let’s input the data on all the models and see what happens. Best not count our chickens before they’re hatched. Kudon: I agree that would be the best approach...I must say Commander, ::getting more and more animated:: and I think you can appreciate this as a Science Officer, there is just something so exciting about creating an algorithm and seeing it work in the real world. It may seem silly, but I actually am nervous about what the results of our models will be. Accurate, inaccurate? Worse, better? So many think of science and engineering as just brainpower, but there is real creativity and, dare I say, emotion involved. Don’t you agree? So he had let her know about his emotions after all, albeit indirectly. Alora’s verdant eyes twinkled. Little did he know she’d already seen that he allowed emotion - after all, Vulcan’s didn’t use terms such as ‘like’ and enjoyment when referring to themselves. That display, however, showed that he did indeed allow his emotions to the forefront for more than simply descriptive words. When she didn’t answer, too entertained by his excitement, he queried again. Kudon: There must have been a time when you felt like this? DeVeau: Oh definitely. And I agree. More creativity is needed than people suspect, you have to think outside the books, look at things from different angles - like an artist. Kudon could not contain himself to sit down so he started pacing behind the chairs they were sitting in. He was about to respond to DeVeau when the computer did one final alert to indicate the three models had finished running. Kudon: What are the results? Alora didn’t answer right away. She perused the results for a moment, then turned to the pacing Vulcan. DeVeau: It looks like a combination of our ideas would work best. It offers the most stability, and it actually speeds up the process by a whopping fifty percent! Kudon: Fascinating. I think we should let Commander Galven know immediately. DeVeau: Yes, yes we should. I also think we should run it through the holodeck and test it out that way, but I suspect we’ll get the same answer. Alora stood, allowing the chair to finally go still. Kudon: I must say, Commander, I have enjoyed working with you. Still standing, Kudon put out his hand to shake hers, with a small, but quite obvious, smile on his face, thinking how their teamwork had led to potentially very positive results. Alora’s smile lit up her face and she accepted the hand warmly, though surprised as Vulcans were usually uninclined to touch due to their telepathy. At least, that’s what her experience had been. DeVeau: I feel the same, it was a pleasure working with you. I look forward to doing so more in the future. Ensign Kudon Starbase 118 Ops Engineering Officer O239703K10 & Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau Science Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239008AD0

Game, set match!

Congratulations everyone and welcome to the fleet!