Sal Taybrim

((Commodore Kinney's Officer - Embassy of Raskor I)) ::The trio had been lead into the den of lies. Behind the desk, stood the disappointingly average looking Commodore Kinney. After a few strained, forced pleasantries, the reason for the visit had been revealed and the discomfort level was raising with each near blatant accusation Kinney spat out. The meeting hadn't started out well. What was originally bored annoyance, was quickly dipping into hostile territory. While Sal and Trel'lis kept their cool, firm tone, Mirra decided to try a bit of the suggested gestures. Not exactly sure the possible fallout. But...they weren't here for conversation alone...::Ezo: ::keeps her eyes level, taps her temple in nonchalance as suggested by Captain Taybrim, her tone clear, and even:: The disturbance being the stolen Romulan vessel piloted by a mad man..Trel'lis: ::nods:: A driven mad man. ::The gesture did not go unnoticed. It was almost amusing with the flash of his eyes, assuming she had crossed beyond the acceptable boundaries. Mirra decided to push a bit further, exchanging a "knowing glance" with the Captain. Although, the "knowing" just translated more to the "Whoa, do you see how bulgy that head vein is...?".::Taybrim: We still had a plan, one that was not followed. ::He countered, slowly realizing that Kinney was leading the conversation:: Whether L'Trena meant it or not, he drew the Sienov's wrath before backup was available.Kinney: Backup, yes... convenient thing those Klingon allies of yours showed up when they did... ::a vague tone of accusation in his voice::::A poorly timed complication for him, but what had resulted in their life line. It was clear the Commodore was less than pleased at the actions of their allies, but what could he truly say? Risk a diplomatic firestorm by condemning the actions of the Klingon's who ensured the prevent of a total loss of Starfleet life? Not even he would be that naive.::Ezo: ::smiles with saccharine sweetness:: We owe our allies a great deal. Had they not been on a patrol of their own nature, ::tilts her head slightly:: Well, who could say what would have happened...?Trel'lis: I don’t even want to consider the possibility of ‘what if’! A man of *your* caliber, would know patrols are conducted by ships of other peoples, especially after such a vicious attack, prompting the Avalon even being dispatched.::It seemed the Commodore didn't appreciate Trel'lis tone, Mirra however, loved it. She managed to keep her face neutral, although she added a slight head tilt in his direction. A supposed unconscious act when someone might overhear something...::Kinney: What exactly are you insinuating, Lieutenant?Trel’lis: What I am saying is, I would think a covert recon would have been ordered *first* before sending ships in overtly.Kinney: How do you know one wasn't done? We knew that the Sienov was commanded by Haz Arrhimen after all...::Keeping her focus straight on Kinney's face, she once again tapped her temple with a quick glance at Sal. It meant nothing of course, but she had to admit it was more entertaining for her than should be.::Taybrim: ::The Captain's voice was diplomatic and cajoling:: Perhaps, Lieutenant, you'll explain the reason for your misgivings.Trel’lis: I suppose my original security/tactical thinking kicks in, as that was my first career, prior to switching to the Diplomatic Corps.Kinney: You were sent out with the information you needed. In fact, you had more time and more advantage to prepare yourself than the Avalon did and yet she followed orders without question. ::His voice raised in pitch, getting to a point where it was barking and hot.::Taybrim: And the Avalon lost nearly five hundred crew...Ezo: ::eyes narrowing:: Four hundred and ninety two, to be exact. Kinney: Did you tell L'Trena about the Klingons? No, you didn't. You were an integral part of that fight, and you failed to share decisive information to a fellow Captain.Taybrim: We warned him to stop, told him to wait. The Klingons were uncloaked and it was plain to see they were on our side.Ezo: And yet he disregarded our warnings and continued, to their detriment...::her eyes narrowed further:: ::She let the passive expression fall away, she didn't need to be violating any mental boundaries to tell his was clearly deflecting. Trying to pin this disastrous on them, and one he shouldn't have had to because he truly expected them to not return. His distaste for them was abundantly clear. If anyone should have suffered massive casualties, in his mind, it should have been them. Let the Avalon return victorious, while he feigned sorrow at the loss of the trouble making Captain and his crew.:: Trel'lis: Or were *told* to disregard the warning??Kinney: ::Loud, angry:: Unacceptable!::His control was slipping, she had no idea what he honestly expected out of this meeting, but by his outburst, it certainly wasn't going his way. She wondered how this engagement would end, would he throw them out of his office? And turn around and say that they had been insubordinate and accusatory?::Taybrim: ::Calm. Dangerously calm.:: Commodore Kinney, we did everything we could to save the Avalon. Even after her warp drive exploded we mounted a rescue effort to bring back any survivors. Had the Avalon heeded our warning she might still be in one piece today.Ezo: As it stands...we were able to rescue twenty three. Twenty three souls, out of over five hundred... Trel'lis: THAT is what’s *unacceptable*, sir! ::Kinney stalked off, attempting to burn off a bit of the rage swirling within him. He had to know there was no spinning this to his favor. The data they presented supported their claims, and that didn't include the data that wasn't presented...yet.::Kinney: You see a threat in everything, Taybrim. You and your crew are conspiracy theorists of the worst kind. You could have followed L'Trena's lead, backed him up and the outcome would have been much different.Taybrim: Yes, we would have all been dead. ::The words slipped out, the bitter truth as Sal saw it. It wasn't diplomatic, but he stood there, unabashed at having said it.:: ::Mirra jolted in her seat. Something was wrong. No, something was very wrong. The anger in this room was near suffocating. So the cold, determined focus she felt slashed through like a frozen spike. Confidence, malice, a hint of gallows humor. Where was this coming from? Not within the room, that's for sure. She dropped her mental shielding, pushing out her abilities farther than the immediate screaming anger of the room. Easy target, job done then payload. The window, it was in direct line of the window. Her warning call came barreling out of her mouth in a near shout as her body automatically reacted. Launching out of her chair, her mind was surprisingly clear. Get to the Commodore, get him down. No other thoughts dared impede her on her mission. With the grace afforded only by the surge of adrenaline, Mirra's arms clasped around the man's middle, as the shared momentum focused through her shoulder brought them both tumbling down, landing hard on the ground. She felt a sharp pain above her brow, and tiny [...]s of along her as the world around them showered in tiny, glinting pieces. Something warm was sliding down and pooling in her ear. More blasts rung out, she wasn't sure where Sal and Trel'lis were, she felt them close, and prayed they got cover in time. Someone had just tried to kill Commodore Kinney. Getting to her knees, she turned to the face down Kinney, struggling to flip him over so she could examine the damage.:: Ezo: ::strained:: Commodore? Commodore can you hear me? ::coughing slightly:: Commod- ::She was instantly cut off as a large hand wrapped itself around her throat, and began squeezing with deadly purpose. Her eyes shot wide as she looked down at the hysterical expression of the man beneath her. His pupils dilated to the point that his eyes nearly matched her own. Fight or flight had taken over, and it seemed the Commodore was strongly in the "fight" category. She struggled to free herself, scratching wildly at his arm, to no effect. He thought she had attacked him, he was defending himself. Although he had been attacked, it did not come from her. She heard scrambling around her, felt arms at her back. Someone was trying to help release her from his death grip. Her vision was starting to get fuzzy on the sides. She needed air, and she needed it now. It may have been the result of a cut off of oxygen, or her mind trying desperately to stay conscious, but for whatever the reason...she suddenly heard Tyler's voice. His voice was in her mind, clear as if he were standing beside her. His firm, patient tone of voice he carried during thew few failed attempts to get her more comfortable with self defense. For a brief moment, the room faded away as was transported to the Holodeck on the Columbia, back when they had been assigned. Tyler, standing in front of her, working hard to keep an amused smirk off his face. His comment about her looking "adorable" when she attempted to look scary hadn't been appreciated. (((Flashback - Columbia Holodeck))) Kelly: We're going to try this...again. A patient has gone violent and you are alone, what do you do? Ezo: Uhh...make peace with the Gods and hope I am remembered fondly...? ::He cradled his face momentarily, while taking a deep breath through his nose. She got the distinct impression that was the wrong answer.:: Ezo: ::grinning sheepishly:: Right, sorry. ::getting back in stance:: I fight. Kelly: Yes. You fight. Now, Keep your wrist tight, push with your shoulder. It's all about follow through. Aim for the jaw, not his head. We're trying to tenderize his face, not your knuckles. Ezo: ::grimacing:: Gross.. Kelly: ::exasperated:: Just do it Mir! You or him. You're fighting for your life, not making friends. ((End flashback)) ::Acting on impulse, her fist clenched, wrist tight, she swung wide and hard, throwing everything she had into it. The punch landed right at the hinge of his jaw. The power behind it less than she would have liked, but she still felt the distinctive crack of bone in her hand as the jolt of pain slammed up her hand into her arm. Whether it was the hit, or the efforts of the others, the hand was gone. Falling onto all fours, she gasped in air greedily, coughing uncontrollably. Her vision evening out with each deep inhale. It could have been the remaining adrenaline, the bittersweet pang of memory, or the culmination of events, Mirra shot to her feet in a fit of pure rage. It might have been the blood dripping into her eyes, but never the less, Mirra saw red.:: Ezo: ::shouting:: Is that how you thank someone who just SAVED YOUR LIFE?!? Trel’lis: ::whispering:: Ingrate! Kinney: ::His hands flew to his face to protect it:: Wh-what are you talking about? Saved? But... Taybrim: She's a telepath, Kinney. She could sense the assailant before they shot. She saved your life. ::He reaffirmed in even, commanding tones.:: Ezo: ::gravely:: Yeah! You're welcome by the way! ::She fought the urge to kick the man hard in the shin, but at that particular moment, the adrenaline took the most inopportune time to leave her. Her legs began to shake, and she crumpled back into a chair behind her. Later, she would realize it had been the Commodore's own chair, but for now, she focused on the throbbing pain in her throat, her head, and pretty much every where else. She automatically applied pressure to her forehead using the mostly clean sleeve. Noticing the increasing discoloration oO And this is why I hate dresswhites....Oo:: --------------------------------------- Lieutenant Mirra Ezo, MDChief Medical Officer Starbase 118 OpsC239205ME0

And yes, on this day she earned the title "Targ Whisperer..."

Ensign Sorna: All of the Science! hehe!

Well, scars could be added... ::innocent whistling::

To me, my Ops men! (some day I WILL say that IC... unless someone beats me to it...)

Obviously insulting an engineer's ship is like insulting most people's firstborn... then again, don't cross a doctor either...

Congrats and welcome to the fleet!

Fabulously angry.

((Main Sickbay - Starbase 118)) ::Mirra had reluctantly left Tyler's side, so she could order the necessary tests in order to get him discharged. It was strictly precaution, but had they not reached Tyler when they did, things could have ended very differently. Being blown through the wreckage into the deep cold of space, was more of a common occurrence in the lives of Starfleet officers than one would think. So, tests it was. Besides, the longer he was confined to bed, the more likely he would get the actual rest he desperately needed. She finalized the order in the computer, and sat back, staring aimlessly at the terminal in front of her. She was tired. No, she was exhausted. Both physically, and emotionally. Her empathic senses had been battered so thoroughly, she wasn't entirely sure there wouldn't be lasting damage. Her shoulders hunched involuntarily as unwelcome memories came bubbling to the surface. The mission...the suicidal mission, had been hell. Everyone felt it, the Sickbay of the now destroyed Albion had been filled with it, the dark, cold, fear. So thick it was as if it was being pumped through the air-vents. Looking down, she became distracted by the shaking of her left hand. When had that started...? She hadn't left Sickbay once since they returned. Tyler knew it, and had called her on it. He said she should go home. She had amazing staff and support doctors, he said that her staying was unnecessary. He was right, of course. She had what she thought of as a "dream team". Now even more complete with the addition of Dr. Phrik. Despite their...creative first encounter, Mirra was pleased he chose to accept Sal's offer. Like any good department head, she had done her research. He was a brilliant and talented surgeon, he had a finesse about him, that was noted heavily in remarks by his superiors. As was his...unique bedside manner. Which she had already noted, much to her amusement. He wasn't cruel per-say, just...direct. Very direct. Considering some of the more colorful patients that came through Sickbay...he'd fit in perfectly. So when she caught sight of Junior Lieutenant Taelon walking by with a trolley of mechanical arms, heading towards Tatash' room, she stopped herself from following. Taelon was a uniquely brilliant scientist. His enthusiasm, and raw talent, was second to none that she had ever encountered, which, was why she sought him out to be the one who would be in charge of prosthetics. And considering Dr. Phrik was already planning on following up with Tatash...his direct, and realism would be well matched to ensure whichever replacement was chosen, was the right one. The shaking of her left hand was consistent, making a fist would only relieve the tremors for a short time before they'd return. It had to be due to the lack of proper sleep...or the fact that she hadn't had a real meal in...well she couldn't remember when. Glancing at the confirmation on the terminal, she realized the tests she ordered would take awhile to be completed, and then the results to return. It was enough time for her to go to her quarters for a shower and a change of uniform. Walking back by his room, Mirra saw Tyler had fallen back asleep. Good. She wouldn't disturb him. Catching the eye of one of the nurses, she relayed that she would be going home for a bit, but she'd be back soon. The look of relief on the nurses face was confirmation enough for her. They had been worried, and she made them that way. A small pang of guilt rippled through her, she quickly banished it and gave a small smile and wave of parting before heading out.:: ((((Brief timeskip - Mirra's quarters - Starbase 118)))) ::Getting back to her quarters had been uneventful. It was a nice change of pace from the last few days. Finally stepping in, it struck her. The familiar smell of the incense and meditation candles, the haphazard array of medical journals she had left on the table, a small ceramic cup that had been painted for her by Tyva Dal still sat next to the journals. The contents long gone, but the barest of stains from the tea she had sipped while reading remained. The tremors in her left hand increased, her whole arm now succumbing to the minuscule movements. Over the course of this last mission...some part of her never expected to see her quarters ever again. The realization slid up her spine, leaving a chill and goosebumps along her flesh in it's wake. That was the bare truth of it. She expected to die out there. Her whole body began to shake, she hadn't died, not physically anyways. But..a small part of her somehow never returned from the Albion...until now. Her breath became quick, and labored. With wooden legs, she hobbled over to her meditation area. Her hands shook so badly, she was unable to light either candle or incense. The tears came, coursing down her face. Rivers of pent up emotion that burst through the haphazardly constructed barriers. A sob tore through her, bringing her to knees as the proverbial flood gates burst through. Memories of the Albion, the Avalon, the countless death certificates signed, the number of catastrophic injuries that some would never recover fully from. Tatash, coding on her table. Tyler, half frozen and gasping for precious oxygen. Theo's burned hands, Aitas broken ribs, Taelon's bloody and broken face, the swirling faces of crewman lost assaulted her senses. Eyes open or closed the images remained the same. Somehow she managed to reach her bathroom before the retching started. Clinging to the cool metal of the receptacle, she gasped through the retching as everything over the past several days came pouring out along with the small amount of tea, toast, and the thoughtfully crafted catalana swirls from Lt. Kro. After a small eternity, the retching and dry heaves subsided. Breathing heavily, she slid down to the floor. Her sodden cheek laid against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. The tremors had begun to fade, only small little quakes remained. She had fallen apart spectacularly, it had come on sudden and unexpected, but...it was over. Curling into herself, she lay on the cool floor, utterly spent physically, and emotionally. The release had been brutal, cathartic, and completely necessary. She wasn't sure when, or for how long, but she had fallen asleep, curled up on the floor of her bathroom while the world continued on around her. She only became aware of that fact when she was jolted awake suddenly by the familiar voice of Theo.:: Whittaker: =/\= Whittaker to Senior Staff. Report to.... =/\= :: he looked down at the docking information. :: =/\= ... Main Hangar Bay, Docking Port Sixteen Baker for immediate deployment. We are taking our new auxiliary vessel for a shakedown cruise. =/\ = ::Sitting up, she looked around, momentarily confused. Then the events of last night came seeping in. She nervously laughed at herself. Big, bad CMO curled up and crying on the bathroom floor. Shaking her head at the enormity of it all, she stood slowly, her aching muscles protesting their repose on the hard, unforgiving cold of the floor. She had slept there all night, and she was acutely aware of that fact with each new creak or pain from her joints. Sighing heavily, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked...terrible. But beyond the swollen puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and crisscross impression on her forehead from the bathmat that had been her pillow, she looked alive. And that, was everything. Giving her reflection a small smile, she stripped off her crumpled uniform and stepped into the shower. She had a hanger bay to report to after all... --------------------------------------- Lieutenant Mirra Ezo, MDChief Medical Officer Starbase 118 OpsC239205ME0

and Oh my... This, friends, is why arm cannons are a bad idea... endless puns.

Congratulation guys, and welcome to the fleet!

Master of understatement there, Tatash.

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