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alliepan last won the day on January 14 2016

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About alliepan

  • Birthday May 21

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  1. Ishani Kasun- https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php/Ishani_Kasun Mirra Ezo- https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php/Mirra_Ezo Aitas- https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php/Aitas
  2. Probably bad form to quote your own quotes- but I'm silly happy with this little line from my Romulan saboteur.
  3. Maybe we should have a dialogue with the aliens first- we don't actually know their motivations. And the term slavery is used to describe the life of the planets resident- I'm not sure we have enough enough evidence to call it that without fully investigating their quality of life. Maybe we end it, maybe we don't. Just going in though without knowing the full effect our impact will have on the planet and the two species could be disastrous as a whole. Unless the aliens are Ferengi, then burn them nuclear fire.
  4. Hej Hej- I'm Allie- I played Liani, and will be playing Liani again in the very near future. It's good to be back and I look forward to writing with you all again.
  5. This didn't come from a sim, but a side conversation regarding the bottled Klingon squeezins- From the mind of Sal Taybrim to you (But in the voice of Michael Dorn)- Hello, ladies, look at your man, now back to me, now back at your man, now back to me. Sadly, he isn’t me, but if he stopped using Starfleet scented body wash and switched to Klingon Spice, he could smell like he’s me. Look down, back up, where are you? You’re on a battlecruiser with the man your man could smell like. What’s in your hand, back at me. I have it, it’s a mek'leth spearing two holoprograms for that thing you love. Look again, the holoprograms are now gold pressed latinum. Anything is possible when your man smells like Klingon Spice and not a Starfleet brat. I’m eating a tribble.
  6. (( Airlock, USS Garuda, Starbase 118 Drydock, 239210.03 )) :: A decommissioned Galaxy-class starship at rest. :: :: This wasn't as she remembered it. The last time Safine had seen the Garuda, it had been a living beast; a floating city, soaring through the Menthar Corridor, a beacon of peace, scientific inquiry, and justice. Warm. Alive. Full of life. :: :: Now it was dead and cold. The lighting was minimal; the air cold and stale. The body of a friend, lying in state, its fate uncertain. :: :: Retrofit and redeployed? The Galaxy-class were getting on. Maybe it would be retired to the rear, or even turned into a semi-stationary city. Maybe a training vessel. Maybe something else. :: :: Or reclaimed for energy. Recycled like garbage. :: :: With her wrist-mounted torch lighting the way, Safine crept through the ship's empty corridors. Sneaking like an intruder, quiet footsteps impossibly loud in too much space. :: :: She walked with the ghosts of her past selves. They manifested as surges of emotions, flashes of memory, and telepathic urges. :: Marlee: ~~ You shouldn't be here. ~~ Alleran: ~~ Oh, let it up. I need this. ~~ :: I need this. Selfish [...]. What did he think he was trying to do, bringing her back to this place? The Garuda was nothing to her; just a ship she had briefly visited and nothing more. :: :: And yet, to that part of her that was Alleran Tan, the ship was something else entirely. :: :: Safine walked through corridor after corridor. Past the holodeck -- empty and covered in dust -- and past various rooms. A school. Someone's quarters. Always further in, until she reached the main turbolift. :: :: She hesitated. This was the goal of being here; a simple elevator like so many others. :: :: No sense waiting. It was time to see. Safine set her feet and hooked her fingers into the turbolift door. Under power there was no way she could ever open it -- but unpowered, the metal groaning faintly in protest as she pried it open. :: :: An empty turbolift shaft. Such was expected. Tan unhooked a thin steel cable from her belt, attached the magnetic grapple to the floor, and swung into the void. :: :: Gravity was a strong breeze buffeting her around as she descended. The force pulled her toward the walls, toward each deck as she drew close, and every time she repelled away; bouncing off the wall, down, down, down, toward the lift itself, nestled snug in the shaft. :: :: She landed on top of the lift carriage. Tan removed a device from her belt--a low powered laser cutter--and began slicing into the metal, carving out a portal. A rough disk of metal clanged to the floor, almost impossibly loud, the noise reverberating around the ship, the moaning of the dead. :: :: Carefully, Safine lowered herself down, and then she stood in the main turbolift. Her boots kicked up puffs of dust. :: :: The place where she'd died. :: :: Safine expected a surge of emotion. Wave after wave of feelings, assaulting her in an impossible wave. She had been Alleran, at Marlee's funeral. He had cried uncontrollably. :: :: But Safine, surrounded by a turbolift that felt like the walls of a coffin, felt nothing. This was just a room. A place. No sign remained of Alleran's demise; not a whisper of his presence. If that place had been a turbolift repair training hologram, Safine would never have known the difference. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. :: Alleran: ~~ Look deeper. ~~ :: She slid down to her knees, crouching over the metal deck. The faint grooves that gave feet grip. Metal scuffed by thousands of feet applied over the years, scraped and worn and old. It smelt of chemicals and metal; of rubber and dust. :: Alleran: ~~ Deeper. ~~ :: Safine took her laser cutter to the floor, the turbolift lighting up red with the light. Sparks flew as she sliced out the floor, hooking her fingers under the inside and lifting it up with a groan, exposing the skeleton below, the criss-cross metal framework of the elevator. :: :: There. A rust-coloured spot on one of the beams. No larger than a centimetre, oval, joined by two smaller ones to one side. :: :: The metal was a stainless alloy. This wasn't rust. She stared at the exact spot. :: :: Blood. A tiny drop of Alleran Tan's blood. :: :: He'd bled from his pouch, staining the cracks in the floor like a road map. Since, someone had cleaned this place. Scrubbed the death away. Erased it. :: :: But they had not gone deep enough. The blood had soaked through to the bones of the ship. Alleran was a part of it now. :: :: And then, only then, presented with a flood of memories, did Safine truly realise what had happened. :: :: Alleran Tan was dead and he was not coming back. :: Tan: What the hell am I doing here? :: She spoke to the room, not the blood, but of course nobody answered her. Her voice echoed up the turbolift shaft and disappeared. :: :: An unexplained fear rose in her. Fear of something unseen and distant, but at the same time, inexplicably close. She jammed the metal plate back where it belonged and scrambled up the cable like a spider. :: :: Her belt whined as it wound up the cable, pulling her up the turbolift shaft, back up to the open door, a rectangle of dim light. Safine scrambled up the top, unclipping the cable when it was safe, and then burst into a run, out of the ship and back to Starbase 118, the computer chirping as she left, acknowledging that her safety inspection was complete. :: :: Back into the light, and life. Safine stopped, getting her breath back, fighting to keep her composure in the hope nobody could see how much she was sweating. :: :: As fast and as far as she ran, the memory of the blood stain remained. :: ----- Ens. Safine TanUnassignedStarbase 118
  7. Our next tittle should really be Les Tribblés, with our Marines breaking out into a musical number. We could tell the story of a lone tribblé trying to feed his family and the cruel Marine trying to see him brought to justice.
  8. What a fascinating picture. I will never be able to read about them, not thinking that they might be angry unicorns Jamie is great, isn't she? And it might be that we are unicorns- here to take you off to Candy Mountain.
  9. ((Starfleet Morgue, DS26)) ::The hall was appropriately dim. It reeked of bleach and death. A single metal table stood in the center of the hall, illuminated within a cone of white light, surrounded by an audience of cabinets brimming with the dead. A white sheet covered the body. It took forever for him to take three steps towards it.:: The gods know how much he wanted to go back in time, if not to restore the past, to see Raj just one last time. And tell him that not even Time can tear them apart. But all that planning and talking and reuniting was proving to be quite the task for him. Every time he tried to concentrate, to focus on what they were saying, his head would start throbbing and the tics would begin emerging. Following a conversation to its end was now a herculean task. Never mind multiple conversations. At the same time. Exhausted from trying to keep up with everyone’s thoughts, he had sought the solace of the dark and dreary ship’s morgue. There were no annoying, painful conversations in here. Only the lulling hum of the warp coils reverberated through the bulkheads. A hum that had been the soundtrack for 186 years of his life. He limped towards the cold stone slab on which the body of LtCmdr Raj Blueheart lay. He shivered a little from the cold. His boots created echoes throughout the room. ::He was amazingly calm as he drew back the white sheet. Once pale skin now tinged green, stared back at him. How many times had he attempted and failed to count the freckles on that face. The fiery red hair was now dark, wet and oily with disinfectant. The eyelids were stitched close. How dearly he missed those infinite emerald orbs! What he would do to lose himself in them again. The palest of lips were sewn together, the sutures making little X’s across the mouth forever sealed shut. What secrets hid within?:: Lieutenant Commander Raj Blueheart’s corpse lay on a cold metal slab in the infirmary’s morgue. The doctor had led him into the morgue and hesitated just a moment before drawing the sheet covering the lifeless body. As the doctor stepped back, Emerson’s face was still a blank slate, a mask. Only after a full minute did he take a step forward and lean over the slab to peer into dead, opalescent eyes, wide open from rigor mortis. Drawing the sheet further down, he saw a large gaping hole where once the biggest heart in the entire universe had been. He stared into the black abysmal hole, perhaps to look back in time, perhaps to look for remnants of a lingering soul. He moved towards the head, staring once again into those lifeless eyes. ::Withdrawing a small, folded piece of paper from the breast pocket of his uniform jacket, he stared at it for several seconds, rubbing his thumb across the surface in circles, before gingerly inserting it into a pocket on Emerson’s uniform. Just over his still heart. Resting his palm there, he looked adoringly at the lifeless man, peering into eyes permanently shut. A soft breath of air escaped his lips. It might as well be his soul departing. He leaned in and kissed the cold, bloodless lips, the catgut X’s [...]ing his own.:: He bent over. His torn lips met those of the dead. Kissing them softly, he only tasted death and formaldehyde. ::Raj knelt beside the table and took Emerson’s cold and rigid right hand into both of his. Squeezing it gently, he silently invoked Athena’s blessing for a soul’s safe passage to the stars and beyond. He closed his eyes not to focus his thoughts and prayers, but because he was ashamed that he never really believed in gods and demons and the life eternal. Death is finite. Death is final. Death is the end.:: Like he cat, he sprung onto the chest-high slab, staring into opaque corneas, slowly reclining beside the frozen body. He ignored the biting cold gnawing into his flesh as he turned towards the body and draped his arm across it, nuzzling his head into the crook of its neck. The late First Officer’s skin was a powdery film of ice crystals, turning to waxy sludge as he ran his hand across the ripped-open chest to cradle the head. He hugged the corpse, the merciless cold boring its way into his own core and his blood began to flow languidly. For the first time in his life, Emerson wished he could cry. He wished he could know what it feels like to have a river of tears wet his cheeks. But shredded tear ducts and multiple repeat brain surgeries denied him this modest request. Rocking gently as if to soothe a colicky infant, he but whispered into dead ears. ::A lonely tear emerged from hiding to roll down his face. It would prove to be the last tear Raj Blueheart would ever shed.:: TBC ================================ Captain Raj Blueheart Commanding Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682
  10. ((DS26, Docking Port from Atlantis)) ::Felix M'Rrow, the diminutive Caitian special investigator, scrambled down the gangway away from Atlantis like a cat from a hot tin roof.:: M'RROW: Get me off this ship! I have never, in all my years as a Starfleet investigator, been so humiliated, so inconvenienced, so utterly outraged by the atrocious behavior of-- of-- ::He realized no one was around to hear him, and stopped talking.:: ::He'd been brought aboard specifically to assist Lt. Commander West in uncovering the whereabouts of Atlantis' missing weaponry. On the way into the Norlian Nebula, a known landscape of treacherous danger.:: M'RROW: I TOLD them it was a mistake. ::Then, West had the gall to unexpectedly depart Atlantis before it arrived in the nebula. M'Rrow, meanwhile, stayed aboard, assuming he had a duty to fulfill.:: M'RROW: The nerve of them. ::To add insult to injury, they didn't even need him to begin with. They'd already solved the mystery. The weapons were stolen and tampered with by West's doppelganger from the mirror universe. They had camera footage, for heaven's sake. Why did they need an investigator?:: M'RROW: I will write a scathing report. Scathing! ::Useless and unnecessary in West's sudden absence, M'Rrow had sat in his quarters, watching the nebula out his window, not sure when the Romulans were going to torpedo him. Eventually, he had a long conversation with some kind of temporal ghost, a nice young man from Schenectady who was out on his first tour of duty, and seemed to think the year was 2299. It was all very confusing, and M'Rrow assumed it had been a dream.:: ::Anyway, the young man appeared to be transported away just before Atlantis flew out of the nebula.:: ::M'Rrow could also swear he had been sucked through a vortex and was treated to a sumptuous dinner by angular aliens in the distant past. Or the future? It was unclear. The indigestion he suffered later was his only clue that the experience was real.:: M'RROW: I will write, perhaps, a concise report. No need to include every detail.:: ::Some detective he turned out to be. At least the mystery about Atlantis' weapons was solved. That's all his superiors would ultimately care about.:: ::Felix M'Rrow cut a quick path away from the Atlantis, darting in and out of the crowd. He might hide away for a while, before going out again on the prowl. Either way, he would always land on his two feet.:: MSNPC Felix M'Rrow Forensic Investigator simmed by Lt. Rendal Rennyn HCO & Flight Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682
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