Salkath

I re-e-eally thought about how much fun it would be if the bottle had gone missing on Max, but that would force me to show a dark side of him that nobody wants so see. Hehe! The brandy is not so much even that important, but the bottle is sentimental now, so I had to have him spirit it away. I promise though, next time Max brings alcohol to an emergency, we can hide it on him!

Dang, there goes my plan lol Whew, I'm safe on the Apollo after all! =)

Congrats, folks! Go forth and have a great time!

Hey, if you had to study spatial anomalies day in, day out... =)

Congratulations! Go forth and have fun!

Congratulations! Go forth and have fun!

I know you issued an OOC correction for the post this came from, but this still made me choke on my coffee... ::Nate laughed, he suddenly didn't feel so bad about being stuck with the fruity flute.:: But, it made me think, in only the way my mind circles erratically. Imagine what to a Risian is a lute, actually looks to a Terran like a flute? They hand it to you, thinking there's really only one way to play it, and you try to play it in a completely different and unexpected manner? I imagine it would set up a scene not unlike this...

I am happy that I had a chance to participate in a writing challenge before they were pared back. I cannot imagine the drain in time and resources that go into adjudicating these challenges, especially considering how dedicated and precise the judge's responses are. With that, I can totally understand the need to step back and refocus efforts on other forum challenges. Still, it's a shame to see this wonderful opportunity pass, and I'm sure that many will be sorry to see it go.

Thank you so much for the recognition! It's one thing to write collaboratively, working together to advance a storyline. It's another thing altogether to compile a piece solely for adjudication. Putting yourself out there, willing to be critiqued for your work, is challenging in any aspect of life. I respect and admire this group for creating a venue to do so in a supporting, safe environment. It's what drew me to SB:118 in the first place, and I haven't looked back since! I am awed and humbled to have had the opportunity to compete with such talented writers, and I enjoyed everybody's submissions so much. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my story, and I hope the humor of it gave you a bit of happiness, as I enjoyed writing it immensely. It's a shame that this contest will be pared back, but I look forward to reading more quality submissions from across the fleet in other forum venues such as the Top Sims contest. Again, thank you for the unexpected honor. It is highly cherished.

((Quarters - Torrin )) ::It was late afternoon, the Apollo was safely docked at Starbase 118, but Avaris had stayed put in his room, sorting through documents relating to his new position at the shipboard schools Headmaster. His day had been beyond weird, and he had eagerly awaited Artem's return for the few hours he had to relax before going back on duty. He wanted to tell him all about his conversations with D'Sena and Counselor Walker, to celebrate their probationary acceptance of the School Boards offer of employment. He even wanted to tell him about meeting Dr Renos, although he had planned to gloss over that part a bit... he was still very nervous about the call he needed to make later on. But Artem had arrived home, eyes bloodshot and temper raging. Avaris had greeted him with an excited smile, only to be met with a seething glower and a snarled accusation :: Dragumov: Explain to me why a civilian reported to security today, that she had overheard a bearded, long haired very tall Trill man discussing with a J'naii doctor his involvement in an arson case, while he was walking down a crowded hallway, in the middle of the day. ::Torrins face blanched, the smile evaporated from his face. :: Dragumov: The citizen said that this Trill was whispering, which is good I suppose, that he wasnt just yelling treasonous things like a crazy person. So she could only hear snippets of conversation, but that he seemed to be confessing to taking part in the burning of a library of some sort, back on Trill. Explain to me how that happened Avaris, because I am sure there is a reasonable explanation, and that the reasonable explanation that there is would not be that you, in fact, were talking openly about burning down a building on Trill. Perhaps there is another tall long haired bearded Trill ex-anarchist onboard the Apollo. Perhaps she misheard you. Tell me, for the love of god, that there is a reasonable explanation Avaris, why on my FIRST DAY of active security duty, I heard a report that seemed to be about you. ::Torrin sat down on the couch silently, unable to look his husband in the eye. :: Dragumov: When you are finished explaining to me why that happened, perhaps you can also explain to me why the ships first officer asked the security department to remotely search our quarters computer terminal, and determine how it was that you came into possession of an old intelligence report on yourself. :: Avaris stayed silent for another beat. Looking back up to his husbands furious expression, he smiled weakly :: Torrin: Are you still feeling rough from the party last night buddy? ::It was the wrong tact, and Artem roared furiously :: Torrin: I am sorry Artem... today has been a bit of a roller coaster... Dragumov: I don't care Avaris! Is this a game to you? This is our life, and we have been here for THREE DAYS! How are you already on their radar in three days Avaris? ::Torrin stood up, slowly approaching his enraged husband, speaking as soothingly as his shaking voice would allow :: Torrin: baby, you know I was on their radar before we even got here.... I am so sorry, I didn't mean to stress you out today.... ::Artem shoved him away, clearly not interested in being touched :: Dragumov: Its fine, you cant help yourself apparently. I knew that when I married you... so its my fault I guess. ::His words cut deeply, sounding dangerously close to regret that they had gotten married, that he had included Avaris in his new life as a Starfleet Officer. The computer interrupted the thick miasma of silence growing between the two men, cheerily informing Avaris that a message waited for him. He went to the terminal and sat down, opening the communication. He looked at it, his eyes widened... was this a joke?:: Dragumov : What now?! Torrin: There must be some mistake, commander D'Sena has asked me to meet herself and some of the crew for... a team building exercise tomorrow? Maybe its supposed to be for you? ::Artem glowered, but an expression of puzzlement was showing slightly through his scowl. Torrin got back up, and walked towards his husband, snatching the communicator from his chest, he activated it. :: Torrin =/\= Torrin to Commander D'Sena? =/\= D'Sena =/\= D'Sena here, what can I do for you, Mister Torrin? =/\= Torrin =/\= I apologies for bothering you... I just got a message from you about a team building exercise tomorrow, I am wondering if there has been some sort of mix-up and it was meant for my husband? =/\= D'Sena : =/\= I can assure you, Mister Torrin, that it was meant for you. =/\= ::Avaris looked anxiously to Artem, whose own look of horror could only be matched by the one Avaris himself must have been wearing :: Torrin: =/\= Well... thank you so much for thinking to include me Commander, but I'm afraid my preparations for duties in the school will be keeping be busy for most of the day tomorrow.... =/\= D'Sena : =/\= You will have enough time for that after we are done, Mister Torrin. From my reports, I see that you are now a member of our crew, and therefore will be participate in our exercise. =/\= ::Avaris sighed, defeated :: Torrin: =/\= well... of course I suppose you are right. Very well commander, I will see you tomorrow. Torrin out =/\= ::He handed the comm badge back to Artem, who angrily snatched it from him :: Dragumov: Great. This is just great. Now you are going to spend more time with the command staff, where you will no doubt continue to make an amazing impression for us both. I cant do this right now, I need to lie down. We will talk about this later Avaris. Torrin: I'm really sorry Artem... can I get you anything? Do you want some water? Dragumov: Just leave me alone right now. ::Artem stormed into the bedroom and threw himself on their bed without even taking off his uniform. Avaris went over and activated the door, to give his brooding husband some time to calm down. He was right, Avaris had been very sloppy today... he was finding adjusting to life on this ship far more difficult than he had imagined, and he had imagined some pretty serious difficulty. He went to the replicator and made himself a tumbler glass with some ice, opening the bottle of Saurian brandy he had done a number on the day before, pouring carefully at first, but abandoning pretense halfway through and filling the glass. He had felt like he had gained some ground, and that Artem might even be proud of his efforts, it had been no small thing getting himself hired on at the school. But without meaning to, he had set them back two steps for the step he thought he would gain, and they were fighting, again. He caught his mind wandering, wondering if this was the right thing, wondering if he had made a huge mistake, before snapping himself out of it. There was no use thinking like that right now, they had only just arrived, and they could make this work, he absolutely had to believe that. At least he had a project. The Doctors friend, on the J'naii homeworld. That was something he could do. The doctor still hadn't given him any details, but he figured sending out some preliminary feelers would be proactive and make him feel a little less worthless. The first step was going to be brutal, but now seemed like as good a time as any to do it, he didn't think his estranged old colleague, and once good friend Andressa Castyr could possibly make him feel any worse than he already did. He sat down at the rooms terminal again, and instructed the computer to place a subspace call back home to Trill, hoping that she wasn't home and that he could just leave a message. He realized he didn't even have any idea of what time it was in Vrans, he had so thoroughly acclimatized to the 26 hour Starfleet Standard time that he might be calling in the middle of the night. Luck was not with him, the call was answered. A pretty, slight middle aged Trill woman with long red hair and a prominent chest tattoo framing the symbol of the Unjoined Majority in its centre appeared on the screen. As soon as she registered who was calling her, she scowled and went to disconnect the call. :: Torrin: Wait! Andressa please.... Castyr: I have nothing to say to you Avaris. Torrin: Hear me out, please its important, I have an ask. ::The redheaded woman scoffed dramatically. :: Castyr: You dont get to ASK for ASKS anymore Avaris Torrin. Where is your husband? Is he monitoring this call? You gonna play bait in a sting? Nobody here would fall for it, just to save you some time... Torrin: Adressa, please, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. ::She banged a fist on her desk, the screen wavered with the reverberations of the impact. :: Castyr: You have some nerve Avaris, calling me in the middle of the night out of nowhere, from a Starfleet ship no less. You fitting in nicely with those pigs then? They putting you up to this? oO so it is the middle of the night in Vrans then. Good timing as always Avaris Oo Torrin: ... I am sorry it has been so long Andressa... you were a sister to me for so long, I miss you so much. It has been hard here, trust me, it has been... so hard Castyr: Good. ::Avaris blinked back a tear. The worst part of it was, a part of him thought she was right to be so angry. :: Torrin: ... like I said, it is important. Our friend Jenny is out of lipstick again... ::The Trill woman glowered, her eyes narrowed and her lips were pursed so hard that they were white. But he had gotten her attention, Jenny was their less-than-imaginative code word for any J'naii "Deviant" who was in danger, in need of help from their network of support.. :: Castyr: ...Alright then. Where is Jenny now? Torrin: I dont know yet, she is also a friend of someone else onboard, I am just relying a message... would you be able to get some lipstick to her if I found out where she was?? ::She paused, still glowering. :: Castyr: I could look into it for sure. But to be clear, I'd be doing this for Jenny, not for you. Torrin: Thank you Andressa. Castyr: By the way, for future reference, don't you dare call me sister, you don't get to call me sister ever again Avaris. I cant even imagine what Jaheran would think of you if he could see you now. Just send the information when you get it, don't call me again. Give love from all of us back in your old life to Officer Dragumov. ::She disconnected the call abruptly, before Avaris could say any more. With the screen black again, he allowed a single tear to roll down his cheek, remembering his old life and his old friends, remembering Andressa, and remembering Jaheran. What would he have thought of Avaris now? It was best not to think about it. He wiped the tear away, and continued to pour over the School Board documents, mentally preparing his plans to prove himself capable of molding the minds of the next generation of Federation citizens. :: Avaris Edral Torrin Civilian School Headmaster USS Apollo - A

I want to reiterate, that life threatening food allergies are something to be taken seriously, and I do not intend to belittle or demean the topic. This was meant purely as fictional satire. Thanks!

On the sixth day in orbit around Coralla Prime, it was decided that first contact with the Corallans had progressed so excellently that the crew of the Apollo would be given restricted shore leave. A draw had been made, among the officers of the ship who were off duty, to participate in a cultural exchange on the surface and Ensign Maxwell Traenor had been lucky enough to draw a slot. Once on the surface, the ensign had been drawn in to an establishment where he joined at a table with a Corallan, and polite conversation ensued. Maxwell, being a physicist and not at all a xenoanthropologist, had been initially concerned, but fell into comfort fairly quickly. The Corallans were an amphibious race, but despite their cultural and physical differences, Maxwell and Siath, as his counterpart was named, found much to talk about. The only issue was the universal translator, which infrequently stumbled upon deciphering the odd word in either language. Tilting her head, Siath addressed Maxwell. "Would you like to try our food?" It had been noted that the Corallans tilted their heads quite frequently in conversation. The cultural debrief had stated that it was a physical quirk of the species, with both physiological and social implications. It either depicted deep thought processes or an emotional entreaty, depending on the situational context. Maxwell found it endearing, possibly because of the resemblance to an iconic gesture of domesticated dogs back on Earth. In this context, he assumed it to mean that she felt strongly about him trying the local cuisine, and felt loath to decline. In truth, he was nervous; an adventurous diner he was not, but it was expected of him as part of his involvement in the cultural exchange. "Thank you, Siath, I would really like to try your cuisine." Siath tilted her head again, the nictitating membrane of her eyes rapidly moving back and forth. This as well was covered in the cultural debrief, as a signal of confusion or fear. It was not nearly as endearing as the head tilt, but Maxwell had seen it before. It most likely meant he had said something that the universal translator couldn't decipher into the Corallan tongue. "Please say again, Tray-e-nor, I do not understand." "Um... I would like to try your food?" That seemed to work, because Siath perked right up. Apparently 'cuisine' had no analog in her language. "Excellent, Tray-e-nor! There is a food that we are proud of, I will serve you. It is called *ktckkk*." It was now Maxwell's turn to sport a look of confusion, for the universal translator commonly stumbled over proper nouns in the Corallan language. The species' gravelly, guttural vocal intonation was hard enough to follow when the translator worked, but when it didn't, the sound was especially jarring to Traenor's ears. "I'm sorry, Siath, can you try again?" "Our food, it is called *ktckkk*. I cannot explain, it is *tchrrkl*... It is sweet after meal food." "Oh! What we call dessert, perhaps?" Again with the look, and if she had lips, Maxwell would assume she would be sporting a bemused smile. "I do not understand your word. But no concern. I bring now." Maxwell Traenor waited patiently while Siath went into an adjacent room. After only a few moments, she returned with a plate. The scientist watched her approach with morbid fascination, worried about what he might see. What if it was live grubs, not unlike Klingon gagh? Cultural sensitivity or not, he was unsure if he would be able to stomach such a dish. As the deep bowl was placed before him, he peered over the lip of the dish. It was chocolate! The smell that permeated the air above the bowl was heavenly. Floral and berry notes wafted forth on a strong undercurrent of an earthy vegetal scent, sweetly caressing his senses with its sugary headiness. The more he drew the perfumed air deep into his lungs, the more it enticed and intoxicated him. "This looks wonderful, Siath!" His spoon crackled through the sharp brulee crust, leaving slivery shards of caramelized sugar spidered across the top. Inside, the utensil swam through a creamy mousse, interlaced with ribbons of viscous fudge. Maxwell drew a spoonful of the delightful confection up to his lips, and let the taste tingle on his lips and tongue. The wonderful nutty, woody base flavor carried an exotic song of spice, citrus and vine fruit across his palate. It was like the best chocolate he had ever eaten, except more vibrant and intense than any that had come before. He blocked out all else, letting his being immerse in the experience of that dessert. It sang in his brain, it swam in his veins, it lifted him to the heights of euphoria. He absently scratched at his face as he devoured another spoonful of the manna in his bowl. "Siath, this is the most wonderful food I have ever eaten. It... it completes me... it's fantastic... The spice in it is heavenly, though a bit strong. It makes my lips and tongue tingle so much that they almost feel numb..." Yet another spoonful, though it was thicker than he had originally thought. It stuck in his throat and was hard to swallow, but worth every morsel. He knew he should slow down, not eat so quickly. He was shoveling it in so fast that he could barely catch his breath between bites. He scratched more insistently at the persistent itch on his neck and throat. "Tray-e-nor, you are happy, yes? You bloat with joy and change color because you are pleased?" Bloat with joy? What a strange comment, thought Maxwell. But that thought was hard to grasp, as was any thought. His mind was hazy and unfocused, difficult to grab onto any one topic. He wheezed with difficulty, trying to put but one more taste of that creamy, sugary wonderfulness between rubbery unfeeling lips that could not part... ... ... "...has been treated with adrenaline. I mean, a chemical that reverses the effect of his immune system from overreacting. That is why he couldn't breathe." Coming to and looking up through squinted eyes, Maxwell could discern the comforting blue collar of a Starfleet medical uniform. Beside the doctor was Siath, the membrane over her eyes fluctuating rapidly. He felt bad for putting her through so much distress. "I did not know! Our cultural document stated that flushing of the skin of the species of Tray-e-nor indicated arousal. I only assumed that he was enjoying the *ktckkk*!" O foul temptress! O what terrible fate! The divine dessert had turned on him? He had suffered an allergic reaction to the wondrous treat? How could life be so cruel as to deprive him of a love of which he had just experienced but once? Nothing short of perfection had been introduced to him, and it had tried to kill him? And why was his oxygen-starved brain spinning in addled Shakespearean soliloquies? "Not to worry, he will be fine. See, he is already rising again to his feet. We will mark this reaction in our medical documents, so hopefully this unpleasantness can be avoided in the future." Suddenly, the medic reached out and swatted Traenor's hand. "For goodness' sake, Ensign, drop the dammed spoon already! And don't look so petulant." But it was so good... Ensign Maxwell Traenor Science USS Apollo-A

I think I'll try a tangential hook to this theme...

Figured I would give my first challenge a try... Worf's line from 'Qpid' is just as relevant here... "I am not a merry man!"

Thank you, everyone, for the warm welcome! It has been nothing but enjoyable so far!