Sal Taybrim

Had to go for the (perhaps obvious) choice of Sulu. I think he's the most well rounded of the crew, the most capable over multiple areas. It's no wonder we see him as a captain in the later movies!

I always played WoD on a chat based setting and Star Trek on an e-mail based one. I think it's the rank structure that allows Trek e-mail sims to shine. WoD really needs a diceroller mechanic. After 12 years running Changeling on chats, I finally burned out. Burned out, hard. Which is why I came back to Trek sims.

I suppose, though, if all Trek was erased from my brain, I'd turn to Red Dwarf.

Do exactly what I'm doing now: keep writing the good version of Star Trek while waiting for someone who actually loves the franchise to make a really good movie about it...

re: Vulcan imploding The sight of Vulcan imploding was an amazing special effect. A masterpiece of computer generated artistry. As a feat of visual technology, yes it could be defined as 'epic' Problematically in the case of Star Trek, I look for definitive story moments and memorable scenes as my definitions of 'epic' and this... wasn't. I haven't watched the movie in over a year and all I can remember about the destruction of Vulcan was: 1. it was a good special effect and 2. I thought it was a bad plot move. Why did I think it was a bad plot move? Because the story didn't support it well. Nero's justifications for his course of action are as flimsy as a cardboard house in a typhoon, the pseudoscience behind it is barely believable even by Star Trek standards, and worst the best characterization we get of Vulcan in the movie is a hot dry place full of jerks who pick on Spock. So the importance of Vulcan becomes one of two things depending on what kind of viewer you are: 1. A planet you really care about because you have a knowledge and connection to it from canonical trek (aka, you were already a Trek fan) 2. A planet used to show the madness and power of the bad guy (aka you are new to the show, and Vulcan functionally becomes Alderaan, a planet destroyed just to prove a point) So the pivotal 'epicness' of this moment hinges on your connection to old Trek. If you have no connection to Trek and just came to the new movie you think "whoah, that Nero dude's crazy. Spock's planet died. That's sad." If you had a connection to Trek - that's when you started to feel angry/sad/ect about Vulcan's destruction. I know some people felt this was an epic pivotal moment for the canon. I did not. I felt it was a lazy, cheap way of riling up the audience and the fanbase. I felt it was JJ Abrams way of whipping out his junk and marking the franchise like a dog marks his favorite fence. 'See that? I can kill Vulcan. I don't need to justify it with a great storyline or a big fight to get there. I can do this because this franchise is mine now.' At base I felt the destruction of Vulcan was disrespectful - not in the fact that it was destroyed, but in how it was destroyed. How it was poorly developed and crudely cast aside. And the sad thing is? I like 2k9 better than I liked Into Darkness...

^ More than a few industry professionals have pointed out that turning a franchise over to (professionally selected) fan based writers has made mega millions for the Marvel franchises, why not Star trek, too?

Pretty much I'm with Leland and Rich. The reboot movies have a few good 'moments' mostly from great acting or a nice little scene... but overall the plots were horrible, full of holes and made me sad. So I guess I'll say the actors are pretty epic for taking such a terrible script and making something watchable from it.

Hey there and welcome!

I voted Ahab moment, though I think the most epic moment from First Contact is either Zefram Cochrane blasting off to the tune of Magic Carpet Ride or our very first view of the Vulcans, therefore bringing Trek history full circle. To be painfully opinionated, while I watched and enjoyed the rest of the TNG movies to some degree, the rest really weren't epic. They went downhill after First Contact.

I like undiscovered country! I liked the way the actors portrayed the characters in New Trek. I just hated the overall script >.<

Which was not my choice. *chuckle* Actually I'm not a picture-in-signature sort, but it's ship solidarity, yanno? That said, I'm the poster child of the vanguard against New Trek.

Leeeeeland... That's not funny, boy...

I gotta vote WoK. Though being the WoK fangirl that I am, I think the most epic part of the whole darn flick is the part where the Reliant is damaged in the Mutara nebula, and Khan is looking for the Enterprise, only to have it rise like a phoenix from behind the reliant and deal the decisive ending blow. I could watch that over and over.

Thanks I drink mine out of the red shirt cozy. Because my beverage's days are numbered...

Do not underestimate the geeky crafters...

Hello and welcome!

((USS Atlantis - Rennyn’s Quarters)) ::Ren Rennyn fell gracefully through the air, high above the village of Arnmere. He could see all the places he loved from here - the old farmhouse he grew up in, the school, the forest, that bend in the creek behind old Uncle Wavern’s fallow field, where an ancient tree bent lovingly to the brook below, where little white paloue blossoms littered the sloping banks. He drew nearer that spot, remembering youthful romps there. Now he was naked, and falling faster. Wind rushed toward him mercilessly. The parachute he was sure he’d been wearing seemed to have disappeared. The field was alarmingly close. A few more moments to impact. Ren breathed his last breath, and he screamed.:: ::The scream was real, though the field was not. Instead, his body jerked against the bed where he lay face down, arms and legs spread carelessly at odd, unnatural angles. The dream clung to him, and he was as shocked to find his body unbroken as he was to find himself awake.:: ::He was wearing a full-body black spandex suit that may or may not have been a Parrises Squares uniform. His head was throbbing.:: ::Rudely, the comm rang out through his quarters, and Ren was sure someone had turned up the volume.:: FOSTER: =/\= Doctor Foster to Lieutenant Rennyn =/\= RENNYN: =/\= Uhnnn… Doc…. what fresh he--? =/\= FOSTER: =/\= I didn’t wake you did I? =/\= RENNYN: =/\= Wyn… =/\= ::He wondered if they’d entered some kind of reality-bending vortex. The pain behind his eyes was unreal. His tongue was dry.:: =/\= …I have no entire clue… =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Well, just as long as you’re not in some sordid naked tangle with a lover or three. =/\= ::smirk:: =/\= Not that there is anything wrong with sordid naked tangles whatsoever. I just would hate to interrupt one! =/\= ::Entering the world of the living, Ren was becoming aware of his surroundings again. The spandex suit was a size too small, and it really didn’t breathe well. There was half a box of jelly doughnuts in the bed with him. His right arm curled tenderly around a trombone.:: ::He sat up a little, and shook his head, trying to make his voice sound less groggy. The shake was a mistake. He looked around, trying to piece together the night before. The last thing he remembered was talking with Mattingly at the reception. All that bathtub gin…:: RENNYN: =/\= Well, I’m not naked. =/\= ::For a strange moment, he peered into the shadows in the corner, looking for spooks. He refrained from looking under the bed.:: RENNYN: =/\= Wyn, you don’t want to know. I also don’t want to know. How about we get down to business? =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Ah yes, business. I received a curious side mission from Commander West yesterday before the briefing and dinner… he wanted me to look into the scans Sovak and Valis took of the area outside the holodeck, in specific regarding Emerson Ravenscroft’s disappearance.=/\= RENNYN: =/\= That’s a lot of things. =/\= ::He picked up a doughnut. It couldn’t hurt. He talked with his mouth full of jelly and powder.:: =/\= Are you sure he meant me? Sounds like a mistake. =/\= FOSTER: =/\= No, he specifically mentioned to work with you. =/\= ::He paused:: =/\= I admit on the medical things I’m ace, but I’m no security junkie. =/\= RENNYN: =/\= Me neither. But Emerson’s a friend. I mean, we were going to get tattoos together, and that means something. So I’d be glad to help. But I thought the captain declared it a closed case? Emerson left of his own will? =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Evidence suggests otherwise. Strongly otherwise. Emerson may have left a note threatening to leave, but come on, Ren… we know exactly how likely that is. =/\= RENNYN: =/\= Maybe we’d better talk about it in person. Hey, Wyn. As a medical professional, how many jelly doughnuts would you say is too many? Because if the facts in this case bear out, I ate nine of them so far. =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Nine? Well… that’s… pushing it. =/\= RENNYN: =/\= And what’s the limit on bathtub gin? And should Okoryx be shut down for health code violations? I mean… I don’t even play the trombone! =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Trombone… please tell me you didn’t eat a trombone… =/\= RENNYN: =/\= I have a lot of questions. Give me a few minutes. Get me a hangover cure. I’ll see you in your office. =/\= FOSTER: =/\= Hangover cure. Right. Those seem to be popular lately. I’ll see you soon. =/\= ::The comm closed and Ren forced himself out of bed, delicately climbing over the mysterious trombone. He noticed a piece of material stuffed in its bell, and pulled it out. It was a hot pink ski mask.:: RENNYN: What the h was in that gin?! What kind of promotion ceremony was that?! ::He took the rest of the doughnuts with him and ate them in the shower. Nine had not been enough.:: Lt. Rendal Rennyn Helm Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

I would second the above scene from In the Pale Moonlight and add: The part where Garak explains how his plan worked to Sisko is intensely bada-- This quote especially:

I believe this is actually for round 25, but the prefix wouldn't let me select round 25.

((Sickbay, USS Columbia)) ::A sonic shower was an abomination of nature, some genetic anomaly that had taken the shower and transformed it into some medical, hygienic necessity. On the Starbase, Chelsea had been able to get a real water shower on occasion and while it did take longer and make much more of a mess, it was a therapy that she rather looked forward to after a long, hard week. The warmth, the pitter-patter of small droplets against her skin and the floor, they were wonderful.:: ::In this moment, a real shower was a medical necessity, although nobody with actual medical expertise had seemed to agree with her. Instead, she had been run through some decontamination procedure that left her feeling more like a science experiment than a victim of post-traumatic stress. "Making the best of it" was the order of the day, and while she was - still - only half-way through the procedure, at least now all of that residue had been cleaned off of her. She caught an occasional whiff of manure from time to time, despite the medical staff's assurance that it was all in her mind.:: ::She was just placing her commbadge back onto her newly replicated uniform when it chirped.:: Connory: =/\= Connory to Ames =/\= Ames: =/\= You startled me, sir. I'm here. =/\= ::She smiled as she said it. How was it that this officer, she actually felt she could talk to? She'd felt that way once before, back when she worked with Livingston on that ...:: ::The thought floated away, willed away by the same mind that had brought it unbidden to her conscious thought. She sighed as Ian continued. Maybe someday she'd remember that differently. Or not remember it at all.:: Connory: =/\= How are you doing with the Health-less Holstein and the cattle cadaver? =/\= ::A shiver pulsed through her as he spoke, rattling her. After a hot shower, she'd be still in that afterglow of warmth when nothing could go now. Sonic showers offered no such lingering protection from the world; she was thrust back into its harshness. That stink returned.:: Ames: =/\= I'd like not to think about it, Ensign Connory. Anyway, after I beamed it to sickbay's isolation unit, I figured I would never need to see the thing again. =/\= oO Good riddance. Oo Connory: =/\= Good thinking, Wait. You beamed them where? =/\= ::She slipped her shoes back on as she spoke, and headed back out to main sickbay where she'd been instructed to wait.:: Ames: =/\= Well I couldn't move it on my own - sickbay is set up perfectly for this, after all. Let the science department worry about it. It's not our oO job Oo area of expertise. =/\= Connory: =/\= No don't worry I'm sure that'll be fine. oOI hope. Oo Commander Brek is trying to see if there is a vet among the colonists. 'Til then hold tight and make sure the containment fields hold. =/\= Ames: =/\= They'll hold. I will personally reroute power from whatever systems are necessary to ensure that that thing stays in there, where we're safe from it. =/\= ::From her perch up on a biobed, she watched as nurses passed back and forth. One stopped to take her vitals, and as she breathed deeply in and out upon request, Connory continued. She wondered, was he always this chatty? Or was he keeping her occupied for some other reason? It occurred to her that he was probably trying to do her a service, keeping her mind off of the incident. Although it did seem to be what he kept talking about; the theory seemed not to hold water after all.:: Connory: =/\=Oh and Ames good work. First round is definitely on me. After you clean up that is.=/\= Ames: =/\= Thank you. I'll need a drink after this. I'm only half-way through their battery of tests, and I'd much rather just get to take a little nap. =/\= Connory: response ::She gave a small smile, and the nurse left her to compile some more data. What was in all those charts?:: Ames: =/\= I need a bacon cheeseburger. =/\= ::She imagined biting into that big, juicy sandwich. The bacon smelled as it always did, that wonderful aroma of perfect happiness, and she could feel her teeth sinking into a big, puffy bun and into -- :: Bacon Cheeseburger: Moo. ::With a start, Chelsea snapped out of the daydream she'd fallen into. Hands spread for support on the biobed behind her, she shivered from the cold sweat that had broken out on her brow. Burgers hadn't been made from actual cows in a century - at least not on Starfleet vessels. But there it had been. She'd seen it, heard it. It could not be unseen. The cold sweat returned as she realized the inevitable.:: Ames: =/\= Oh. Oh, no. I may never have a burger again. I think I may become a ... a vegetarian. I need to lie down.=/\= Connory: response ::Their conversation ended cordially, and Chelsea laid down. What would it take to undo this damage? What was the point of going to the Galactic Halo now? She'd just be conversing and eating a vegetable platter. Was there no mercy in this world?:: ----- Crewman Chelsea Ames Operations USS Columbia NCC-85279 As simmed by Commander Ben Livingston Commanding Officer USS Columbia NCC-85279

Sal: full pajamas Wyn: As little as he can get away with while knowing there is ALWAYS a medical emergency right around the corner...

What sort of costume are you looking for? I used to go to conventions as a Cardassian frequently, but I had to make all my own costumes. I work in theatre so I know quite a few trick/tips in all budget ranges - but there's a big difference between the black military armor and the more civilian clothing. Can you provide some pics of what you're looking for? I can provide plenty of tips and tricks for all skill levels, including no-sew.

Congrats to all! I think all three of you were really close together and I agree, it was very difficult to judge! Hope to read more from everyone in the future!

I shared the link with some Trekkie friends... they watched it and then asked me "What is 'Frozen?'" *facepalm*

Conspiracy Theories ~*~*~ “I cannot call to mind a single instance where I have ever been irreverent, except toward the things which were sacred to other people.” ~Mark Twain~ ~*~*~ James T. Lyle quivered with anticipation. From the moment he heard that the San Dimas earthquake had unearthed a sub level in the Chapel Library building he knew he wanted in on the dig. When he found out that Dr. Martin Hanniver was leading it, he was sure he needed to be there. Hanniver was one of the most important Earth artifact archeologists in the Federation – the very mention of his name set entire crowds of studious archeology geeks into stunned silence. Hanniver was the sort who had a vast reference stash of artifacts, information and Starfleet contacts at his fingertips and yet he didn’t do anything with this treasure trove beyond write stuffy articles for stuffy academic journals. Lyle thought that was quite a shame. There was so much one could do with that information, so much he believed was covered up by the shadows of Starfleet and its oh so secret organizations. In his mind there would always be academics that gathered information and who would need to be led by visionaries who could wield that information like a shining silver sword against the ignorance of the masses. James T. Lyle believed he was exactly one such visionary. Sure, everyone else might just see some gangly youth, barely old enough to be a force in the world. He was still young enough that his limbs seemed too long for his body, with sandy hair and a wide smile; he wasn’t a bad looking kid. Most people seemed to like him, or at least gravitate towards his radiant self-confidence. And why wouldn’t he be self confident? The line of Lyle had proudly enlisted into Starfleet for seven generations, but James was different. He was the one who broke the mold – went to college and had the brains to succeed. It was no co-incidence his father named him after the greatest Starfleet captain to have ever lived. Make no mistake, James Lyle was a man set out to do great things. He would be the first of his family to graduate a Starfleet officer and blaze a path of truth across the cosmos. He was sure of it. Certainly that was why, out of seventy-three archaeology students, he was the one picked to accompany Hanniver down into the wreckage. Lyle knew he had to make this opportunity count. He spent weeks preparing for it and planning for the best way to impress. And yet in person the man was not what Lyle expected. He was thinking Hanniver was a weedy academic – not the broad shouldered, strapping man who stood before him with long black hair, dark skin and a genial Martian drawl. Still, Lyle knew first impressions were everything and he had to make this one count. Hanniver could be the greatest launching pad of his career, if he could properly impress him. He needed this reference to get a foot into the door of Starfleet. “All right, as I am sure you are all already aware; we are standing outside the Chapel Medical Library of Starfleet Academy.” Dr. Hanniver opened to the gathered crowd of students and scientists. “This building was constructed 150 years ago, on top of the foundations of the old Starfleet Admiral’s Club after that facility was decommissioned and moved to Luna Capitol. The recent earthquake opened a fissure in the foundation which revealed an extensive sub-basement, used for records and storage. Our job is to carefully catalogue and remove all of the artifacts in this area. T’Pahl and Julani will be leading team one – you will be removing all of the isolinear rods from the storage area. Rodriguez and Ah’Krza will be leading team two – you will be tagging all personal items. Smith and Wesson will be leading team three in carefully checking the armory – if you run into any problems, call a security officer to assist.” He paused and fixed his eyes on the gangly student lingering in the back. “And Mr. Lyle – you are with me. We’re going to see if the sinkhole behind the fissure leads to anything. You will follow my lead, am I clear?” “Yes, sir!” Lyle called back. He double-checked his harness and gear before shouldering a portable generator and a case of checkpoint lanterns; brimming with excitement at the chance to venture into a place that hadn’t been explored for centuries. As the teams dispersed, Hanniver walked up, offering over a helmet and a pair of goggles. “They tell me you like a good adventure, Lyle. That you’re aiming for Starfleet Academy. I hope your rappelling skills are up to snuff.” Hanniver grinned, checking his own harness. Lyle gave an eager nod. “Oh yes, they’re good, sir!” He followed the older man into the crack in the earth, clipping his carabineer onto the safety cable as they eased their way down a steep incline. “What do you think we’re going to find down here?” Hanniver shrugged as he adjusted his light. The bright midday sun faded as they started traveling under the cracked precipice of the old foundation. “I hope to find some new information on the foundations of the Federation. I try not to expect anything.” He paused, grabbing onto a parallel cable and switching his harness clips. “Be careful, it’s slippery here. The two men descended down past the rubble left when the original building was destroyed, and past layers of older architectural remnants – brick and stonework from centuries past. The drop was surprisingly short, only a single story. It landed them in an unimpressive poured concrete box that had most of its identifying decoration stripped from the walls long ago. “Huh.” Lyle murmured. “Pretty bare.” It wasn’t what he thought it would be. Hanniver chuckled, handing Lyle a laser ruler and pulling out a tricorder. “Standard deconstruction job. This looks like late twenty first style construction – probably a storage area or possibly an underground garage.” “Why hide a storage area down here?” “Not so much ‘hide’ back then as it was ‘fit.’ Space was at a premium, the Lunar and Martian colonies were just infant ideas, cities were crowded. They needed to build up and down rather than side to side to make it all fit.” Hanniver replied, face down into his readings. He waved a hand towards his young companion. “This way.” Lyle gasped as Hanniver pushed a busted door open. The flashlight cut a beam down a long featureless hallway. “I have seen this before…” Lyle murmured. Hanniver perked a brow. “You have?” He turned towards his companion, watching the kid for several long seconds. Lyle’s eyes grew wide in anticipation. “I have! I know this book by heart! This is exactly how Colonel Abrahms describes the secret storage facility for Starfleet’s greatest temporal secrets in his book “Into Darkness: A Theory of Federation Development in an Alternative Timeline.” The older man turned to face his student. “Really?” The tone held less curiosity in it, and more belated disbelief. “That’s a hack pop-science book written by someone who would have been better off writing action-adventure holonovels.” Jaw dropping, James Lyle did his level best to not look as crestfallen as he felt. “Colonel Abrahms spent his whole life working on his body of work. It’s brilliant, if you take the time to read everything. And there’s plenty of support for his ideas.” Sighing, Hanniver pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated getting into arguments like this with students. “Lyle… I know it’s a compelling read – but that’s it. Entertainment. There’s no real science behind Abrahms’ theories. He doesn’t respect historical facts. All he does is build off other people’s theories and take them on a drunken romp through the annals of Federation history.” Lyle grit his teeth as they moved down the hallway. He had been studying this theory his entire life. He knew it better than anyone else, and the proof for this theory might be standing right in front of them. Ever since he was a small child Lyle believed there was a massive temporal cover up in Starfleet and he was going to be the man who would break it wide open and save the course of history. He had to make Hanniver see the truth. “There’s plenty of historical fact in Into Darkness. It builds from the very foundation of Federation records and into the real way history played out. We’re just too blind to see how much the Temporal Affairs Office has been altering our perceptions so we can’t see history correctly!” he argued as they came to a hole in the foundation. Fanning the flashlight around the dusty cavern of crushed concrete, Hanniver resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Colonel Abrahms was a nutjob conspiracy theorist. Why do you think he was given a dishonorable discharge from the Marine Corps?” “The history books are wrong.” Lyle folded his arms across his chest in muted defiance. “Colonel Abrahms was a visionary who unfolded a time centered plot that had – still has – the potential to unravel the very foundations of our Federation!” “Oh yes, I read all about it. The Romulan plot to travel back in time and destroy Vulcan.” Hanniver sighed. “Look, I know the destruction of the Hobus star took a lot of people by surprise, even shook them up pretty badly. The colonel was one of them. But it’s been fifty three years, and the non aggression pact with the Romulans has stood for over two decades. You think if they were going to try some insane time travel plot to ‘get revenge’ at the Federation, they would have done it already.” The student leaned forward, conviction tinting his voice with a passionate edge. “You don’t understand the flow of time travel. This whole cataclysm is just waiting for the right domino to be pushed over. We might be stumbling on the very proof that what the colonel predicted is absolutely true.” Hanniver paused, letting his shoulders slump as he fixed Lyle with an unimpressed stare. “The Abrahms theory may be the most popular conspiracy theory of the past fifty years.” He paused for effect. “But seriously, if a ship full of Romulans did have the ability to time travel wouldn’t they warn their planet of its impending doom and therefore save the vast majority of their species rather than going off on some ill-conceived revenge mission?” Lyle stalled in his vehement argument. The gears in his brain turned, remembering the fascinating passages he had spent years reading under his covers and in darkened back rooms of dusty libraries. “They were driven insane by grief.” He asserted. “Romulans are crazy… but they’re not that crazy.” Hanniver replied, making a light sound of disgust as he continued forward. Lyle felt his cheeks burn. He followed Hanniver through a busted door and into a cleaned out storage area. Running his finger along the thick layer of dust accumulated on the tops of the steel shelving, he tried to recoup his argument. “There was interference by Admiral Marcus. He was in on the time conspiracy because he wanted to purge all non-human influence from the Federation. The Romulan attack on Vulcan would be a fundamental building block for his xenophobic platform. He steered them towards Vulcan.” “That’s ridiculous.” Hanniver called back, setting down the portable generator and messing with the controls until it hummed to life. The beacons he had been placing on their way down powered up with a deep amber glow. “It isn’t. Even in this time stream, historians were able to point out over a dozen pivotal decisions Admiral Marcus made that perfectly set up the time-warp destruction of the Vulcan homeworld. It’s a good thing he was stopped by Khan before he got the chance to implement his plans.” Hanniver sighed. “Admiral Marcus died at home from rheumatic fever, surrounded by his family at the age of ninety-three. He never fought a genetically engineered superman, he never built a death dealing stealth battleship, and the biggest scandal he was involved in was that Federation News Service story about how he used his Starfleet rank to give him in edge in bartering flower samples after he retired.” He fixed Lyle with a flat look. “Yes, they accused him of having an unfair advantage in a garden show competition.” He punctuated the gravity of this statement with a low ‘oooooh.’ “It’s a Federation cover up. They don’t want you to know how deeply the Temporal Affairs Department in entrenched in every walk of life in the United Federation of Planets. And Starfleet. Especially Starfleet.” Lyle wasn’t about to give up, he knew this story all too well, and he usually won this argument. Most people simply conceded that his knowledge was superior. “Yep.” Hanniver tossed back. “I have tea with temporal agents every other Wednesday.” “Are you being sarcastic?” “Are you being serious?” “You don’t seem to understand the gravity of this situation!” “Look, Mr. Lyle…” Hanniver sighed, changing tactics. “What do you really think you’re going to find down here?” “I don’t know!” Lyle threw his hands up in the air, his eyes wide. “That’s the brilliant beauty of it all, isn’t it? There could be any number of things that could tear a massive hole into the cover ups that Starfleet heaps on us.” He paused and added with a smile, “I like keeping my mind open to the possibilities.” “Possibilities?” Hanniver snorted. “Right.” He shook his head, working on unlocking the far door in the room. It gave a whine as the rusty old fashioned hinges creaked and the seal around the door cracked open. A rush of cold air hit them both, and even Hanniver felt his curiosity pique. It was like a freezer in here. “Oh my God… I was right…” Lyle breathed as the fog from the coolant cleared. Hanniver picked up a beacon and let the light penetrate the frigid blackness. Storage containers. Row after row after row of perfectly preserved storage containers. “We don’t know what’s in them until we open one.” Hanniver replied, keeping his voice calm. He didn’t want to admit this discovery rattled him just a little. He crouched down, trying to find any identification on the container. “It says botanical samples.” He started the unlock code, vaguely surprised how easily the locking mechanism jumped to life. “Of course they would say plant samples. No one labels horrific bioweapons or cryogenically frozen soldiers as what they really are.” “I’m not getting any dangerous readings.” Hanniver countered, his tricorder at the ready as the lock sequenced. “Shielding.” Lyle muttered. “I’m sure it has shielding.” Hanniver felt a surge of adrenaline as the locking device on the container hummed compliantly and the lights on the control panel turned green. Maybe Lyle’s wild theories were infectious, but he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine as he opened the case. The fog of cryogenic cooling agents hissed as they hit the warmth of the outside and rolled across his chest. “Oh my God…” the words dribbled from his mouth as his jaw dropped. “I was right, wasn’t I?” Lyle tossed back, his eyes wide as saucers. “This proves the whole theory!” “No…” Hanniver’s expression was like a tiny child seeing a Christmas tree glittering with lights and tinsel for the very first time. He grabbed a sample tongs and pulled out a small cylindrical case. “This is a Romulan snow orchid…” He gasped, taking out another case, “Romulan three leaf basil… and mountain poppies…” A chuckle of realization bubbled from his chest. “Admiral Marcus was smuggling illegal plant samples from the neutral zone for his garden…” “Plants.” Lyle’s expression looked like it has been smashed with a wrecking ball. “Just plants?” “Not just plants.” Hanniver grabbed his tricorder and started to take readings from inside the case. “This is a botanical treasure trove! Over half of these species have been extinct since the Hobus star exploded… and they’re still biologically viable. We could cultivate them!” The excitement in Hanniver’s voice was growing to a fevered pitch. “Think of the diplomatic inroads the Federation could make to the Romulans by offering them seedlings of these plants… this is amazing, Lyle! Simply amazing!” “Just plants.” The young man repeated, his shock fading to disappointment and anger. “We did all this digging for a bunch of stupid plants?!” Hanniver stood, letting the excitement of his find bleed away from his expression as he settled his gaze on Lyle. If the kid couldn’t realize the importance of a discovery like this one… “Reality check, kid. I don’t think you’re cut out for Starfleet. In fact, I’m going to recommend that after you finish your degree you should apply for a job at Forsythe Historical Holonovel Productions. They’re always hiring archaeologists and historians. Help them give that realistic ‘edge’ to their programming. Pays well, good benefits, Arconis V is a beautiful planet to work on and you can indulge your sense of pulp fiction fantasy on a daily basis.” He offered Lyle a sympathetic smile. “Heck, I’ll even give you a good reference for the job.” Lyle’s mouth fell open in disappointment. Entertainment? Holonovels? He thought he would be on the cutting edge of the unknown, not programming trite historical romantic adventures. “Are you serious?” “Dead serious kid.” Hanniver gathered his tools. “Come on, we need to get a science team down here.” Lyle lingered back, holding back a disenchanted cry. As Hanniver disappeared into the side room he kicked the floor and turned back at the rows of storage pods. “Stupid plants.” He cursed again, hanging his head and following the professor. ~*~ Lieutenant JG Sal Taybrim Science Officer USS Excalibur-A