Sal Taybrim

((Bridge – USS Narendra - Azure Nebula)) After having received a knife in her right shoulder from a foul move of their own helm officer, who beamed away before being able to get caught, Romyana had been quickly patched up by doctor Foster and continued to work. The erratic flight moves in the exceptionally rough ship battle caused her to topple over and brought the pain back. Casparian: ::flinches as the doctor deftly adjusts the bandage on her shoulder:: I’m sorry for being snappy, Sir, it’s just that there is a lot going on right now. ::taps a few more buttons on the beeping console and huffs:: The hypospray hissed against her neck, taking effect almost immediately. The throbbing pain in her shoulder began to ebb and her snappy behaviour faded away with it. She always reacted cold and defensive, sometimes up to the point of aggressive, when hurt or wronged. It was the quarter Vulcan in her that heightened her emotions without ever having been trained to subdue them. Foster: Don’t feel bad. I’ve been in the fleet for seven years and this is a new one on me. Casparian: ::gives him a quick appreciative smile:: Really? I wish I could say that makes me feel better, but truthfully… it scares me a bit to know that this is a highly exceptional situation even for the senior staff. How can they stay so calm? The blue skinned Andorian doctor cast a glance at Taybrim and Maxwell. Foster: Experience. ::he stated simply. He just knew it in his bones. There were things that didn’t cause him to flinch anymore either because of experience.:: They’re done this before… and lived to tell the tale about it. Casparian: ::nods:: This is my first time as a bridge officer on a starship and-- ::beeps on her console briefly took her attention and she entered some commands using both hands:: Anyway, I joined Starfleet to meet and learn about new things and meet different people, but I know this is part of the job too, to defend. There was determination in her eyes when she said that last remark and subconsciously she stood a bit taller. She was proud of what the federation stood for and she was going to do her best to defend it against rogue organisations such as the Cult of Molor who tried to undermine it. Foster: This is true. He finished up the better bandaging to ease the majority of the pain and gave her arm a gentle pat in the uninjured area, both for support and to let her know that everything was done. Casparian: What about you, Sir? ::gives the bright blue eyed Doctor an inquisitive look and a friendly smile:: What appealed to you to become a doctor on a starship, if I may ask? Foster: Grew up on a Starship, Dad was a Starfleet Doctor. I followed in his footsteps. Casparian: ::nods thoughtfully:: Foster: What about you? Casparian: Why I joined Starfleet? Because...::drops her head briefly:: because of many reasons, ::looks back up at the doctor:: but mostly to see all the wonderful things that the universe has to offer, to explore, ::her eyes brightened more and more with every word:: explore places, explore cultures and meet people--really get to know them. She stopped there, though she could go on and on. She felt at ease talking to the outgoing and talkative Andorian doctor. If he had lived on a starship he must have seen a lot! So many questions popped into her head. Though, maybe the ship’s bridge in the middle of a death defying ship battle, it wasn’t the place to talk like this. Foster: You know what? If we live… ::he paused, looked at her, realized he had three pips on and corrected himself:: When we live through this, let’s sit down and just chat over coffee or something. Something normal, quiet, not-shooty. Casparian: Yes, it’d like that very much, Sir. ::smiles joyfully:: Someplace where there are no knives! Foster: It’s a deal. ::He looked up as the Captain raised his voice again to address the whole bridge:: Oh boy, I think it’s brace for impact time again… Casparian: It is. Hold on tight, Sir. ::grasps the edge of her console firmly with one hand and slightly bends her knees to brace herself.:: With the pain gone, her normal positive attitude was back completely. And the little chat with the Andorian, who was rather more expressive than usual for his kind, made her anxiousness fade, now replaced with renewed confidence and determination. Taybrim: After this is done, we have to prepare for the final stand. The loq’Noom should be in place. We’ll take any opportunity we can get. ::He sat in the command seat again.:: Prepare the slingshot, on Lt Blackwell’s mark. Maxwell: ::To Blackwell:: How far up their noses can you get us? Blackwell/Taybrim: ? Casparian: The repair teams are still working on the shields, Sir. We need...more time. She wished she could give them an exact number, but she knew the time her colleagues were trying to buy them was measured in mere minutes. None of the repairs would be fully complete, emergency patch-ups perhaps. She could only signal Chief Engineer Hael who was orchestrating everything down in engineering to hurry, and be ready for some more heavy duty flying. Drevas: We could give them a couple of shots across their hull, draw attention to us as we move, sir. Get them angry so that they become reckless. Maxwell: Ever heard the old earth term, “kamikaze”? Casparian: ::flicks her head around to Maxwell:: Surely you don’t want us to actually... ::swallows:: collide? Her eyes were wide with disbelief and terror. She could already imagine the structural damage such a move would make, if they would survive the move at all, they would be dead in the water and easy pickings. Blackwell/ Taybrim: ? Maxwell: So we give it clogs tae make some space between us and them and boost what repairs we can. Then the fun begins. ::He leaned back in his seat slightly.:: We drop impulse and pull a one-eighty via thrusters. ::He grinned again as he thought of it like a handbrake turn.:: Then we give her all she's got and go at them. Blackwell/Taybrim: ? Casparian: The engines and thrusters are fine, Sir. They can support that kind of move, yes. Before she could warn them about the need for the shields and integrity fields to keep the ship from ripping itself apart, the tactical officer already continued to explain the rest of his daredevil plan. Maxwell: We'll be down their throats before they know it. We give them volley ae everything as we pass by and it'll take them fair time tae turn about and chase us. By that point we can scoop the away team and be halfway home before they have chance tae scratch their heads. Blackwell/Taybrim: ? Casparian: Aye, Sir. She was definitely not happy with the plan, but she had learnt in the academy that it was not her place to question orders, out loud at least, and when a plan was decided upon, to work as a team to make the best of it. She began dancing her fingers across her console to get everything ready for their, hopefully, final stand. ((Short Timeskip between part 1 & 2)) (END of PART 1) -- Ensign Romyana Casparian Engineering Officer Starbase 118 Ops - USS Narendra O239703RC0

((Bridge -IKS Deshk-Var.)) In light of the Chang-Vorch's departure, the Deshk-Var and Vr'Chok had moved alongside each other for a full frontal assault on the Narendra. Janul gripped the arms of his command throne as the vessels powered onwards. This was going to be a day to remember. His House and the Empire would be rid of a great enemy. The sensors bleated as the USS Narendra hammered over the planets horizon at what seemed to be full speed. There had been no warning of a course change, and Janul was quietly taken by surprise at the sheer aggression shown. He knew the Narendra's crew were far from cowards, but this was completely unexpected. Janul: Helm, maintain postion with the Vr'Chok. Allow Starfleet to pass between us. Helm: Aye, commander. He glanced over at the Warrioress at the tactical/weapons station, the two sharing a slight nod. It had taken heartbeats for the Narendra to be right on top of them. Almost close enough to reach out and punch. Janul: Get me the Narendra. The viewscreen changed to show the Narendra's bridge, with Captain Sal Taybrim sat at its centre. Janul didn't even rise from his seat. Janul: =/\= Friends are the family we build for ourselves, captain. =/\= And with that, he jabbed a button on the seat arm, killing the link without ceremony. Glaring about the bridge, he allowed his control to slip a little, the anger that forever boiled within him beginning to leak forth. Janul: Helm, roll to port. ::He raised a gloved hand, signalling the moment had arrived.:: Fire! And his vessel fired everything it had into the Vr'Chok's weakend starboard shields as seconds later the Narendra followed suit. The comm sounded almost immediately. Comms: Vr'Chok is hailing us, Commander. Janul: Ignore it. Comms: It's General Krala! Janul rose from his seat, hauling the officer from his seat by the collar and right up to his face. His voice was like the roaring of the gods themselves. Janul: I said, IGNORE IT!!!! Great gouges were torn from the massive Vr'Chok as the Narendra's weapons struck home, and the Deshk-Var continued firing until the very last second, sending explosions rippling along the length of the cult flagship. Mere seconds away from hitting the battered Starfleet vessel, Janul ordered the weapon to fall silent as the Narendra squeezed between them. Colliding shields shrieked all around as the vessels all passed each other by. As the Narendra broke clear, Janul dropped his dangling comms officer and turned towards his weapons officer. Janul: Fire everything. Helm, bring us about. Line us up for torpedoes. Explosions from massive disruptor blasts tore out great pieces of the Vr'Chok, even as the dying cruiser continued to hail it's former ally. As the huge Negh'Var-class began to spew plasma and gasses, the hull too began to break apart from the punishing volleys. Janul turned and pointed at the comms officer, and the hail was answered. Krala: =/\= Janul! My son! What are yo- =/\= Janul: =/\= You are no kin of mine, General. =/\= The link was cut just as dismissively as before, and Janul took his command throne once more. He began to drum his fingers upon its arm. The dying Vr'Chok came fully onto the viewscreen as the Deshk'Var repositioned. His weapons officer turned to face him. Janul: Target the Vr'Chok with everything we have. ::He leaned forwards.:: Rid the Empire of this stain upon her honour. The wepons officer – his cousin Tahl – nodded and turned back to her screen. tbc -- Commander Janul Klingon Defence Force. Simmed by; Lieutenant-Commander Arturo Maxwell. Chief Tactical Officer. Starbase 118 Operations. O239311AM0.

Diplomatize, diplomatize, diplomatize! And hope my crew doesn’t do anything too insane...

Great work Ensigns! Welcome (and welcome back!) to the fleet!!

Fantastic work 2nd Lt!! So happy to have you back writing with us!

You tell him you evil nasty doo-doo-head!

Why yes, That is exactly why! 😄

Phasers: enforcing social distancing since 2397... 😂

🤩

Ambassador Class 4-eva! ::Holds on to that classic starship design to the last!::

None of the above. Wrath of Khan soundtrack <3

Welcome back, Ensign! Thrilled to have you back with us again!!

Thnak you @Dassa Alexander-Dalton! Avenue 5 has been good to me

Sal is going for serious this year, while Cade is just surprised he was invited...

Welcome to the fleet Ensigns! It's wonderful to have you with us!

Sal's father is a politician, Sal is a diplomat and somehow he keeps getting promoted... it's certainly not his goal but sure, he'd run if he felt it was something that needed to be done. The Foster boys? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. No. Hahahahahahahahahaha.

Oh communication mishaps!

Love this bit of coming of age narration! <3

I'm torn. I *almost* chose a Nova class ship for my command because I love the feeling of having a small, maneuverable stealthy ship with a specific mission type like the sciene-oriented Nova. It's would be like Bill Nye the Science Spies But I also adore the Miranda class because I love classic ships and I can not lie, you other Captains can't deny, when a ship flies in with two fine nacelles and a big old dish to swell you get *hyped!*

Congratulations everyone! Glad to have you with us!

Oh you guys... 😄

Clearly Luthas likes to live dangerously. I dig it 😎

Constitution refit, all the way. All the time, every day. Iconic, nostalgic, I adore it. Bringing it back someday <3

Congratulations and welcome to the fleet!

((IKS Vr'Chok. Negh'Var-class Attack Cruiser.)) ((Location Unknown.)) ((One month ago.)) Plasma spewed from the stricken ship as blood flowed from a severed artery, the vessel slowly turning end over end as it drifted lazily. A few thousand kilometres distant, the secure transport it had been escorting was also drifting, having lost power from a well-placed battery of shots. He clasped his hands behind his back as he glared at the dying ship before them, before turning at pointing a deadly finger at the comms officer. Vrerik: Hail them. Comms: Yes, sir. A few moments later, the viewscreen changed to show a Starfleet bridge at Red Alert, sparks flew and smoke hung thickly in the air as a human woman stiffened to attention. Vrerik: I am Sub-Lieutenant Vrerik of the Romulan Imperial Navy. And I have some questions for you. ::His tone was calm, almost casual. As if he was making a call to an old friend.:: Firstly, may I ask to whom I am speaking? Roth: Lieutenant-Commander Inge Roth. Vrerik nodded politely, yet his smile was more predatory than friendly. Vrerik: And in what capacity do you serve, Commander Roth? I see you are wearing teal. You are a doctor I presume? Roth: I am. ::She nodded.:: I am both first officer and chief medical officer aboard this vessel. Vrerik: Where is your captain? Roth stood aside slightly, allowing the viewscreen to show a lifeless body slumped beside the command chair. Vrerik: Chief doctor, first officer, and now acting-captain. ::He clapped slowly, just short of being mocking.:: You have quite a collection of feathers in your cap, Commander. Very well. I shall ask you my important questions instead, as your captain does not appear to be in a conversational mood. His dark eyes twinkled with enjoyment as the woman on screen bristled slightly. Roth: What do you want? Vrerik: Want? ::He held a hand to his chest in a human gesture of hurt surprise.:: What do I want? He stepped closer to the viewscreen, his eyes narrowing and his lips curling slightly. Vrerik: I want Commodore Allan Kinney. That is what I want. You were escorting him aboard that transport, he is no longer aboard, and I want you to tell me where he is. Give him to me. Roth: Kinney? Never heard of him. We were just told to escort that ship. Vrerik: Do not play games with me, Commander. It will not end well for you or your crew. I have killed far more, for far less than what you can give to me. The officer on the screen took a step back, even as her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She held her hands out, as if asking for mercy. Roth: We are no threat to you, and we have many wounded aboard. I do not know the name Kinney. We were told nothing about the passengers aboard that transport. Vrerik turned away from the screen for a moment, to the chief weapons officer. Vrerik: The boarding party has returned, yes? CWO: Yes, sir. The man Kinney is not aboard. Only thirty Starfleet crew and sixty-four prisoners. Vrerik: Then we have no further use for it. He gave a sharp nod to the chief weapons officer, and seconds later the Vr'Chok unleashed everything it had onto the comparatively tiny transport. The transport was wiped from existence, leaving behind almost nothing to indicate it had ever been there. Vrerik: I am sorry you could not be of assistance, Dr Roth. He gave another sharp nod to the chief weapons officer. Roth: Oh, sh- ::Panic set in as she scrambled to hit the nearest comms panel.:: =/\= Mayday! Mayday! This is the USS Bastille to anybody that can hear me! Mayd- =/\= The cry for help was shortlived as the small cruiser was blasted apart by the Vr'Chok once more unleashing its full armament of weapons. Closing his eyes and letting out a breath, he smiled to himself as an angry growl and the creaking of leather drifted towards him. General: You fool. Now we shall learn nothing from them! Vrerik whipped around like a viper ready to strike, and indeed he could have for he was already stood a hands width away from the General's face with a cold and murderous fire in his eyes. It was enough to even give the General a moments pause. Vrerik: Oh, but we have. We have learned everything we need to know from them. General: And what is it that we have learned? Vrerik: This was nothing more than a ruse. Commodore Kinney is still aboard Starbase 118, along with its meddlesome crew. He stepped back suddenly, clapping his hands together sharply and emitting a short maniac bark of a laugh. He turned away, heading for the General's chambers. Vrerik: Come, General Krala! The Circle will want to hear what we have to say. ~fin~ Sub-Lieutenant Vrerik. Romulan Imperial Navy Officer. Simmed by; Lt.Cdr. Arturo Maxwell. Chief Tactical Officer. Starbase 118 Operations. O239311AM0.