Sal Taybrim

As a female writer with two male characters (and a host of NPCs both male and female) I feel much like some other voices in the thread. My characters are a personality first, and should a relationship find them I take it from there. Sal is certainly one of the most fluid characters I have created, and in some strange way I like the idea that he comes from an enlightened yet matriarchal society. That, in my mind, places him closely to my own gender experiences in living in a progressive, yet still patriarchal culture/region.

((Starbase 118 - CR Center 3)) (( A few days after returning to base)) ::T’kar was a reasonable man. It was part of what had led to him being given the role he had - Crisis Response required one to be cool headed and efficient in the direst of circumstances as well as able to handle people who were panicked, injured, or otherwise compromised. He was not a councillor, however, and he reflected somewhat glumly on this fact as he looked at the boy in front of him. The Orion incident was some weeks ago now. The kidnapped crew had been returned safely, the ship impounded and searched top to bottom, and any contraband confiscated. That’d included the slaves found aboard. For the most part the slaves had been cooperative. Most were simply scared and relieved to be saved. Others were quiet and unsure of themselves, as if waiting for the Orions to return for them the moment they grasped at hope. This one, however, as different. They’d had to strap him to the exam table. He’d attacked the officers who found him on board and even when he was quiet, his yellow eyes watched them all, waiting. One of T’Kar’s colleagues had described the boy like an abused dog, attacking out of fear. The boy was watching him silently as T’Kar tapped his commbadge. His reasonable, cool approach seemed useless. The boy barely understood basic, much less logic. T’Kar: =/\= Ensign Kasun? I would like to speak to you in CR Center 3, if your schedule allows. =/\= Kasun: =/\= I can be there in a few minutes. =/\= T’Kar: =/\= Understood. I will see you shortly. =/\= ((Time Jump)) :: Ishani hurried to Center 3. If T’Kar was calling her it was most likely about the now former Orion slaves they had rescued a few months ago with their crewmates. She had assigned T’Kar to head up their recovery. Quinn and Vaeden were both great with traumatized people, but given how deep the the wounds ran in in this case she felt it was best to have someone with more specialized knowledge coordinating things. :: Kasun: :: Arriving promptly at her destination she nodded towards T’Kar. :: Ensign T’Kar, you wished to speak to me? T’Kar: Yes, sir. I’m afraid one of the slaves recovered from the Orions is proving...difficult. ::The Vulcan looked perturbed for a moment. Frustration was a universal emotion, despite the teachings he followed.:: My techniques are not effective. Kasun: :: Ishani raised an eyebrow in surprise. :: Really? ::pause:: Where is he? T’Kar: He’s over here. ::The Vulcan led her to the Center’s medbay. The boy that lay strapped to the table was a sight - small and covered in fur, he looked somewhat like a more humanoid Caitian. His claws were long and sharp but disproportionate to his small hands, the claws on his feet the same. A cat’s tail thrashed angrily as he tugged at the restraints. When he saw them enter he turned his head, revealing big yellow cat eyes and large fanged teeth. His fur was black and brown, and a large Orion brand had been burned onto his face. He made a sound, a sort of sharp hiss, but stopped struggling and watched them cautiously.:: T’Kar: They found him under a bed in the personnel quarters. He’s.. ::It was odd to see a Vulcan trail off, but T’Kar did as he considered his description.:: Difficult. We’ve been unable to convince him we don’t mean to harm him. We tried putting him with his fellows, but the result was much the same. :: Ishani frowned as she analyzed the boy’s behavior. Wary, untrusting, hyper alert, and more than a bit animalistic. Whether it was because of or merely enhanced by his catish features she wasn’t certain, but he did bring to mind her trip to an animal shelter many years ago to adopt a pair of cats. The facilities had been more than adequate, the employees clearly cared deeply for their charges, but some of the animals had clearly seen hell. Wary and untrusting, just like the boy in front of her now. :: Kasun: I see. T’Kar: I admit I am unsure how to proceed. Kasun: Does he have a name? T’Kar: He answers to Sebok. Kasun: :: She glanced up at T’Kar and then back at the boy. :: Sebok. :: Sebok watched her like a hawk as she approached, bearing his teeth when she got to the bedside. Up close he was quite small, his short form wiry and lean. Muscle was stretched over his bones with little to no flesh between. His age was hard to determine. He had both the features of an adult and a child, and his cat like features didn’t match the obvious guess of Caitian.:: Kasun: Hello, Sebok. I’m Ishani. ::He didn’t respond, but kept his eyes locked on her.:: Kasun: How are you feeling? Sebok: ::He laughed dryly and spoke in Orion, his tone clipped and a bit raspy.:: Let me up from this table and we’ll find out, n’wah. ::He didn’t seem to expect she could understand him.:: Kasun: :: She frowned down at the boy. Ishani didn’t know what that last word meant but she could tell just by his tone alone that it was both very rude and probably a threat. :: I don’t think so. ::Sebok’s tail thrashed in frustration again. Now that there were two officers looking down at him, his gaze shot back and forth, unsure which of them he should be keeping his eye on. He chose Ishani.:: Sebok: Unstrap my hand and I’ll claw his eyes out. Kasun: oO Okay that one was definitely a threat. Oo :: Eyes narrowed, Ishani reached out and thumped him lightly on the top of the head with the side of her hand. :: We don’t say those things here. :: Ordinarily Ishani wouldn't stoop to violence with a patient unasked, though some of her previous clients had required it both emotionally and culturally in order to move on. But this kid was clearly used to the language of violence, it showed on his body and in his reactions, and words were not going to be enough. The boy looked almost comically surprised at that, the wind completely knocked out of his sails. T’Kar looked at Ishani in shock, but when Sebok sucked his breath in and got it back, he looked at her with a renewed sort of interest. Caution flickered on his face.:: T’Kar: Sir, what was - Kasun: Listen kid, the only way to get out of those restraints is to behave. ::Sebok took that moment to twap Ishani across the face with his tail. It wasn’t the least bit painful, but it was the only limb that could reach her.:: Kasun: :: She sneezed and grabbed his tail. :: You are not helping your case kid. Sebok: ::He laughed and coughed at the same time, looking at the ceiling.:: So the Federation women aren’t so different after all. ::His gaze settled on her again, calmer now. He sized her up.:: What exactly is it you want, you n’wah? Kasun: :: She watch him carefully for a moment before answering. :: We want to help you. To give you a better life than being a slave. Sebok: I bet! I know you Federation, always thinking you know best. Think your little hug circle’s beyond things like slavery and murder, do you? That what you have to offer? A better life? ::He spat and hit T’Kar on the leg.:: Sebok: Where y’gonna put me? You gonna get me a job? Train me to fly a garbage scow for latium shavings and then pat your backs about what good work you do? ::He sneered.:: You lot haven’t experienced a bad day in your lives. Kasun: :: Ishani closed her eyes and flashed back to being captured by Khante, to the floating frozen corpses of the Avalon’s crew, to the scorch mark where Dovak had been not a moment before whole and healthy. She opened them and stared straight into Sebok’s eyes. :: You’re wrong about that. Sebok: Really? ::He leaned forward as much as he could.:: You ever killed someone, missus? Ever killed someone ‘cause it was you or him? Ever licked the blood off of you ‘cause it was all you were going to eat that day? ::He slumped back to the table.:: Sebok: You don’t know where or what I’ve been. You don’t know shi- Kasun: Do you want to go back to being a slave? :: Her tone was cold and sharp. Sebok wanted a reaction and she would give him one, though it probably wasn’t the one he wanted. :: Do you want to go back to having no food, to being beaten, to kill others for your own survival? Because despite your tough guy act, I doubt you do. ::He watched her in silence. T’Kar looked between the two.:: T’Kar: Ensign, perhaps we should sed- Sebok: Shut up, you point-eared git. ::T’Kar didn’t speak Orion, but the boy’s tone made whatever he’d said clear enough.:: You, woman. Is she dead? Kasun: Who? Sebok: Khante! Is she dead? Kasun: Yes. Sebok: ::He slumped suddenly, not bothering to hide relief - and trepidation. He didn’t seem to know what to make of this news.:: I hope she suffered. I hope she bled. Kasun: :: dryly :: Oh that she did. oO Commander Falcon certainly made sure of that. Oo Ensign Ishani Kasun MD, PhD Crisis Response Unit Starbase 118 Ops O239306IK0 & PNPC Sebok Simmed by Lieutenant JG Taelon Science Officer Starbase 118 OPs O239303T10

Talkie Toaster. ::Sagenod.::

Did you just Scotty me? I'm pretty sure you just Scotty'd me... >.>

Shockingly accurate... and yet we lived!

I'm pretty sure they didn't like it... but I did!

Major kudos to Tatash on this - what a great piece of description:

Always good advice...

Congrats and welcome to the fleet! We're so glad you're here!

At some point we WILL have a confrontation with Kinney... everybody get your NON-diplomatic words ready...

(( Corridor, U.S.S. Albion )) ::Kro marched down the corridor with purpose. Flanked by two fellow marines, a young Ensign skirted out of the way at their approach. Even according to his service record the Tandaran was the perfect picture of a hardened marine. He came from a long line of highly decorated military officers, and by proxy spent most of his childhood growing up on military bases. While his destiny seemed obvious, the road had been long and arduous. Growing up with the sons and daughters of soldiers had been a blessing and a curse. He had always wanted to follow in his fathers footsteps, but he had other interests as well. Interests that happened to make him the target of much scorn and ridicule by his peers. Could he not appreciate the emotion of a historic Opera? Could he not be mesmerized by the beauty of an elegant Ballet? Could he not be soothed by a classical orchestra? Music, dance, performance. They were like fuel to the fire of his spirit. As a child he had to learn the hard way that being different was a difficult, and often painful road. It was a road he endured regardless. He was a fighter, and what was a fighter without passion? He had become almost obsessed with weight lifting. Not only to deal with bullies, but to handle the anger that often welled up within him. In the end it had hardened him, and he was not long phased by the criticism of others. Perhaps because he no longer cared, or perhaps because he had developed into a behemoth of pure muscle. As an adult he had grown into a man with no tolerance for cruelty or the torment of the innocent, and he liked to think it made him a better marine. He understood now he was simply refined. He had tastes that were far more sophisticated than the average trench grunt. He did not enjoy violence, but preferred to solve problems with his mind. Strategy, reason, and problem solving were how battles were won. When it came down to it though, it didn't hurt that he was strong enough to punch a mans nose through the back of his skull.:: Tatash: =/\= Tatash to Kro, status report Lieutenant. Kro: =/\= All teams report ready, Sir. Do we have an objective? Tatash: =/\= Mission unclear at this time, have the squads prepare for boarding and counter-boarding operations. Full load-out, drill as required. Kro: =/\= Understood Major. ::There was a small pause as he was handed a PADD by a fellow marine.:: I'll have us armed and operational within the hour. Tatash: =/\= Good. Tatash out. ::Gently tapping his combadge off, he stopped in his tracks and turned to the other two marines.:: Kro: Maxwell, you heard the Major. Full Load out. I want every squad equipped with Type 3 MK-9 Phaser Rifles as well as all specialty specific gear and boarding equipment. Maxwell: What about demolitions, Sir? Kro: Everything they need, but keep them mobile. ::He looked to Navin, handing him back the PADD:: Squads to be stationed with Sigma layout. Protect vital areas but be ready to move. I want regular reports. Double time gentlemen! ::As the two marines rushed off, Kro looked to the Ensign that had skirted their warpath a moment before and graced him with a warm smile.:: Kro: Carry on Ensign. We have your back. 1st Lieutenant Kro Starfleet Marine Bravo Company

I haven't even had a chance to read it and I know it's gonna be awesome.

Congrats and welcome to the fleet!

We are livin' the Klingon dream...

this whole post was riveting... but I especially loved this bit:

I really enjoyed writing that! I'm also a bit mystified at what the naughty-word filter on the forums considers the French word for 'false' to be a swear...

Congrats you guys, and welcome to SB118!!

Congratulations, guys! Great work, and hope you enjoy your new postings!

Hear hear! Good luck Collin! You'll do great!

(( Weapons Evidence Laboratory – Security Complex, Starbase 118 Operations Tower )) :: Seven hours. That’s how long Sanara Pran had been sat inspecting the weapons seized from the marauder Krayvet. Seven hours of tedious scanning, tagging and bagging- or some cases binning. For what amounted to a handful of Orion privateers, they had amassed a collection of weapons so large, it would make a Klingon battalion jealous. Some were standard Orion crafted knives, designed to be hidden from view discreetly, there were several ceremonial Klingon knives that Sanara swore smelt of dried blood, an assortment of Reman daggers and even a Jem’Hadar kar’takin. The fact that these men had possibly killed a Jem’Hadar warrior was disturbing. Or it would have been if Sanara had not of lost the will to live. As she placed another weapon under the scanner and peered into the viewing hood to examine it for possible identification marks or striations, she sighed heavily, hoping that it was not too long until the end of her shift. Checking the chronometer in the corner of the hood, she groaned as she realised she had another three hours till she was due to finish. Leaning back up, she got to her feet and yawned, rubbing the back of her neck. The tiredness was real. Making her way across the evidence lab, she came to a stop in front of the replicator. :: Pran: Shot of espresso. Computer: Please choose from one of the sixty seven different flavours of espresso. :: Rolling her eyes, she let out another sigh, as the replicator displayed a list of all the available flavours. All she wanted was something to keep awake, rather than a thousand and one questions with the replicator. She pressed a flavour at random without paying it much mind, hoping it would be pleasant and not targ-flavoured. :: Computer: Thankyou. :: beat :: Please select from the selection of available cup designs. :: That elicited another audible groan from the tired and now irked security officer. :: Pran: Computer, I don’t care what kind of cup my espresso comes with, or the kind of espresso I have. I just want an espresso!! Computer: Please restate request. Pran: :: to herself :: Trillus preserve me. :: beat :: I have no preference, surprise me. Computer: Understood. Cup design will be randomised. :: beat :: Please specify temperature. Pran: :: the last nerve gave in, and she looked at the replicator with a loathesome look. :: I. don’t. CARE. :: beat :: Why am I being asked a million questions? Why can’t you just give me a regular espresso?! Computer: It is help you make an informed choice. Pran: :: snapping :: My choice is this: regular espresso, hot…. And I don’t care about the cup design. It could have a seh’lat dancing to Lady Shadonna on it for all I care. :: The computer chirped affirmatively and the tired security officer snatched the drink from the replicator pad and downed the bitter beverage in one gulp, before putting the cup down on the pad again with a dark scowl. With another heavy sigh, she returned to the scanner and carried on with her tedious assignment. :: -- Lieutenant Sanara Pran (Disgruntled) Security Officer Starbase 118 Operations as simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Theo Whittaker Executive Officer StarBase 118 Ops C239203TW0

Ummm, Moby the hairless tribble? Falcon's Hamster? 5 year old Tyva Dal? I think anyone in a uniform is doomed, though!

#CorruptionoftheInnocent Story at 8.

Good answer!