Randal Shayne

A great little sim that dragged me in almost immediately. Awesome job! ((Flashback - IKS Korax, years ago)) The Klingon bird of prey was a slick design, small and nimble but woefully under armed compared to other ships of the line. Against other bird of prey types, the fight was fairly even. This ship was a fairly recent design based on lessons learned from the Dominion war, better armed and armored, a tough little ship. Zabi: Shields are failing! The Korax and other members of its pack sailed into battle against other Klingon warships. Outnumbered, they maintained formation against the opposing fleet. At the helm, a much younger Banagher flew his grandfather's flagship into the fray. Zabi: We've lost the Pa'ag, commander! The Vor'ca...the N'chiv Commander: Push forward, boy! They will regret ever raising arms against House To'kra! Disrupters and torpedoes screamed from the bird of prey as its wingmates were picked off one after another. Their target was the largest ship in the opposing fleet. Uncertain of their future, the younger Banagher looked back at his dead grandfather. A surprise attack damaged the ship and the result was no one was prepared for the fight. The deceased Klingon elder laid on the floor in his own blood, their last conversation was discussing his acceptance into Starfleet Academy. Turning his head back, the young Klingon hybrid kept going. Suddenly an explosion erupted in front of him. Zabi: We're hit! A disrupter blast blew open the bridge, and there was a large scar across the viewscreen, only emergency forcefield saved the crew from being ejected into space. Banagher stared at the large hole, expecting the end and his short life began to flash before his eyes. The grim reaper won't come when you are ready for him, Banagher... A familiar voice spoke to him. As the light from a torpedo got brighter across his view, the dream ended. ((Present day - Banagher's quarters - USS Arrow)) Banagher woke up from his dream, remembering the past was never easy. Sitting up on his bed, he wiped the sweat from his brow, brushing his black hair, from his slightly less pronounced ridges. Despite being half Klingon, his features were a bit less pronounced. Genetics for cross-breeds can vary. His teeth for instance were less fang like typical Klingon as he washed himself. Putting on his fresh cleanly replicated uniform, he had replaced his comm badge with a new one. He grabbed his retractable knife and put it away. There was a coin he picked up with his family crest on it. Flicking it with his thumb, he grabs it as it falls and smacks it back onto the table. Walking over to the food replicator, Zabi: Coffee. Black. Walking out of his quarters, Banagher made his way to the mess for breakfast. TAGS anyone that want to bump into my guy Ensign Banagher Lao Zabi Helmsman USS Arrow A240004BL1

Toasty buns for the win.

I love how I'm still not sure if "homey" was meant or it's a type of "honey", because both straight up fit.

Great stuff, Doctor @Seesh! ((USS Arrow, Deck 3, Sickbay, Surgical Bay 2)) “Doctor Seesh, that's not the S.O.P, even I know that.” Those words decided to ring through his mind now. Could that not wait? Seesh bristled in irritation as that sunk in. Not at Commander Serinus, but at himself. He was in Starfleet, there was a procedure to things, he knew that. He had a reason, Jacin and MacKenna's injuries were more pressing matters. It wasn't just him prioritizing the Arrow crew. However, he knew there was a procedure for a reason, he wasn't in his ship-hopping days anymore. He should have picked his words better. oO Not that anything has been standard about this mission from moment one. Oo He quickly, even somewhat violently shook his head, as if to rattle those thoughts out. Live and learn, and carry on, that's how he got this far. That and persistence. Heaps of persistence. His focus turned fully to Lieutenant Jacin as preparations were finished, osteotractors set to make sure Jacin's spine didn't move a micron. No risking any more damage. A full suite of tools and an error-free sensor cluster before him provided some reassurance as he pieced together what he was working with. That was an exposed spine and burns from what was meant to be a lethal phaser blast. Thankfully, it had barely managed not to be. Adjusting the holoscreen, he could see this was going to be a process. Singed nerves and cartilidge, parts down to the bone vaporized. While it looked bad, his probings gave him more and more hope, everything was still mostly functional. A combination of neuro-synaptic shock from the phaser and muscular detachment was what caused Jacin's immobility. Routine sterilization had taken care of any incidental debris, and the spinal cord itself was, as far as he could tell, untouched, so everything laid out in front of him was relatively simple. oO Did I just see that and think 'simple'? Simple by spinal surgery standards, maybe. Oo The noise and bustle of the rest of Sickbay, of Doctor Ohnari's nearby procedure in progress faded away. It was all still there, but pushed out of the way in his mind, the drones and beeps of his own readings at the forefront. 'Simple' or not, there was bone to restore, muscle and ligament to regrow and reattach, burns to treat, skin to heal. This initial surgery was going to be the backbone of Jacin's recovery. Figuratively and literally. With a careful mix of nanosurgeons to start the process of regrowing the bone outward into the desired shape and his own diligent supervision of the tissues between with a sonic separator and protoplaser, repairs shaped along nicely, until erratic beeps from Jacin's readings started, interrupted by one quick defibrillation cycle, bringing things back to normal. Seesh could feel his own heart racing, though he hadn't flinched at all. Working with the nervous system, complications were always right around the corner. After a pause to make sure his heart didn't affect his hands, he double-checked for burns and damaged tissue around the site, along with making triply certain everything was sterile. She would be bed-bound until the follow-up surgery and it would take a bit of rehabilitation, but the Lieutenant should be back to her old self soon. He couldn't help but reflect that if they were in another place or another time, maybe not even all that long ago, Jacin's prognosis might be much different, much more uncertain. After updating Jacin's charts, making certain she was being carefully monitored, and that he was on-call if anything at all happened, he retreated to his quarters for a mental breather. Talking to patients was always a difficult piece of medical work for him, and hours of surgical work wouldn't do him any favors there. He couldn't help but smile to himself once he was alone. Sure, he'd probably have to get a formatting refresher from Ohnari for a research paper, and he'd never have the same way with people R'Ariel did. Surgeries, though? Give him a few more minutes, and he could go for round two if he needed to. ((Timeskip, Sickbay Recovery Suites)) It had seemed all three doctors had some impeccable timing, though Seesh lagged slightly behind, but close enough that the doors didn't give off another hiss. He was surprisingly quiet sometimes, whether he meant to be or not. R'Ariel: How are we all doing? MacKenna: We're here, we've survived. You tell us the rest of the story. Jacin: Well, we’re in sickbay so… Taking a look at the Commander's foot for the first time in hours, it was already a massive improvement. He actually hadn't been sure if getting MacKenna's real limb back was doable, but he was glad that it was. Ohnari had done some impressive work. Ohnari: Looking good here, Commander. Although you'll have to stay with us a few days, I am decidedly confident you will have full range of motion available to you. MacKenna: Sounds like a vacation. The look on the Commander's face was, this time, visible to him. There was some sort of distaste or sarcasm to it. Understandable, who liked being confined to a biobed? Something was said between MacKenna and Zabi, but he didn't quite pick it up. R'Ariel: Lt Ayemet, I dare say you had us all very worried. What have I told you about ending up on the casualty list? Jacin :trying to sound casual: Sorry to have let you down sir. Ohnari: ::softly:: No one is let down, we're happy you returned, and are working on recovering. She gave a soft smile, but Seesh picked up a bit of worry behind it. So, he wasn't the only one, then. He'd been around his fellow doctor long enough, he started to pick up on her subtleties. R'Ariel: I think you and I are going to have a really good talk about what you sensed over there. He was curious about that, too, though he wasn't sure it was his place. That was much more in R'Ariel's wheelhouse. Jacin: Yes sir. It seems like I won’t be going anywhere. R'Ariel: Looks like you got this. Ensign Zabi, have you been looked at yet? Zabi: Well, I'm not bleeding anymore but I'll need a new shirt...and probably new pants. How's the commander here? They were going to be replicating a lot of new uniforms after this one, that was for sure. It seemed that Talia had only now noticed him, but then, he had been awfully quiet. There was still a bit of 'everything should be fine' he was trying to think how to voice without being too blunt about it. Ohnari: Commander is stable, once the osteo-generators finish, I'll be able to begin the dermal grafting. Seesh: Lieutenant Jacin is going to need a follow-up, but after that, I'm confident she'll be back to her old self soon enough. I apologize if being unable to move scared you, Lieutenant, but you'll be mobile next time you wake. Though, there was a slight bit of uncertainty to his voice he hoped didn't bleed through. She should be fine. Ohnari: ::lowering her voice:: I hadn't had a chance to check the chart yet, how extensive was the damage? Any impact to the spinal column? Seesh: ::quieter:: Spinal column, yes, spinal cord, no. Soon as the nanosurgeons finish filling the gaps, which will be quite soon, she'll need a follow-up for muscular reattachment, dermal regeneration, and possibly physical therapy afterward. ::pause:: You might say she's unlucky, but I say otherwise, if that phaser had hit a few millimeters lower... He trailed off, not needing to say much more than that. He didn't really want to say more than that, thinking about it turned his stomachs. There was a fair bit of work ahead of them yet, but it seemed the worst was behind them. They were, as the saying went, out of the woods. Perhaps more accurately, out of The Swamp. NT/END Ensign Seesh Medical Officer USS Arrow, NCC-69829 A240002S11

((OOC: A great sim from Emma that just socked a lot of us in the feels.)) She had taken the opportunity afforded to her to rest for the briefest of moments, downloading a series of schematics and information from her personal servers, that could provide useful. She noticed the small onyx like box that had been mysteriously handed to her when on a shore leave , and she had struggled to open ever since. Scans had shown little information, but from them, and the data on El-Auria she had downloaded whilst at Odyssey Station, she had come to the conclusion that it was El-Aurian in composition, but quite why it had been given to her, and what it contained, were still a mystery to her. She sighed as she changed her uniform and combed her hair, trying to mask the signs of both emotional and physical exhaustion that sought to overwhelm her. At one point her and Gorva had planned to open it using her burgeoning psionic abilities, but that was when she had been terrified that there was a deep uncontrollable part of her waiting to be unleashed. Thanks to R’Ariel she had discovered that this was not the case, but merely the results of psci-dolescence, adolescence but for those with psionic gifts, and hope had resurfaced. She had looked forward to having someone who not only knew, but understood to talk to, but as so often, life had taken R’Ariel elsewhere, at least for the moment. She let out another breath, her right hand falling flat against the smooth surface of the box. Click. Her eyes opened. Whir. She looked down at the box as a small seam opened along the top of it, the whirring rising in volume as its’ sides began to turn and expand outwards. She picked the box up, it’s’ volume seemingly two or three times what it had appeared to be when closed. The sides were now extended outwards to the left and the right, giving the impression of books stacked previously on top of each other. She peered inside, tentatively at first, half expecting some creature or beam of light to come spilling out. It smelt…old, dusty, like a house that had laid unattended and cared for over decades. Inside were.. She half laughed. There was a small wooden wind instrument. About five inches in length, with small holes running down its’ side, and an obvious mouthpiece at one end. She picked it up, and gingerly blew into it. It was like the wind blowing through the trees, ethereal, lonely, a melancholy that spoke to some great sadness lost to time. She put it down, feeling like she had intruded on something precious and deeply private. She took the next object out, a small beaten soft toy in the shape of what humans might call a rabbit. Parts of it were faded, and it’s’ left ear fell loosely to one side, but it was soft, warm, and as Ayemet gel it carefully in her hands she felt comforted, like it brought back almost memory. She smiled stroking the small plush as she placed it down on the desk. Next was a book. The language was something she instinctively recognised; El-Aurian. The symbols filled page after page, hand drawn illustrations interrupting the paragraphs every so often. It looked like some kind of notebook. History? Biographical? A diary? She wasn’t sure, but it was certainly something that needed, no insisted, on further careful study. The final item was a clear bag with several smaller pockets within it. In each pocket was a myriad different seeds and pulses, all carefully placed so as not to be contaminated by either the other seeds nor anything outside the bag. She looked at the colors and shapes. There must have been at least a dozen different seeds. Seeds of plants that once grew in El-Aurian soil. Tears formed in her eyes, her hands moving gently over the contents of the box, a smile on her lips . Home. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of her communicator calling for her return. She places each of the items back into the box, which closes once more, and turned to leave her quarters, taking a brief moment to look once more at it as the doors closed and she took the unusual step of locking it . She turned and ran straight into someone, colliding with them, and falling ti the floor. Any Response: Jacin: Yes. Totally my fault. I’m so sorry. Any Response: Jacin: No it:beat: it’s something for another time. Any Response: Jacin: nodding: On my way. With that she turned and hurried towards the turbolift. TAG/ TBC/END? Lieutenant Jg Jacin Ayemet Science Officer USS Arrow A239810JA2

((OOC: Just our favorite cat and chief medical officer being a delight.)) ((Sickbay, USS Arrow)) R'Ariel: It's funny how the telepathic thing works, you hear more, seemingly can sometimes do more, and yet sometimes understand less. ::she paused lost inescapably for a moment in an old dream before shaking herself back:: but fortunately whether it is cause or result, there often some chemicals left behind to find, and learn from. Ra: And that's what we're going to look for. Jacin: So am I… Am I a threat? Could this continue to grow? The Empath offering one of her best calming-empathic-smiles. R'Ariel: These scans should tell us something. How do you feel now? Jacin :trying to laugh: Nervous. Waiting for the bad news. R'Ariel: I'm looking for good news. Ra: The initial scans are complete. Doctor. R'Ariel offered a smile in exchange for the padd, as she looked over the results. Jacin: So doctor what’s the news? Am I about to destroy the ship? The counselor-turned-doctor, turned-counselor again for the immediate moment, interrupting herself from her review. R'Ariel: I hope this doesn't come off as any kind of conceit, but as high-level natural empath, ::she put extra emphasis on the next word:: Not ::her tail flicked:: not going to blow up the ship, I don't need a medical scan to get that much from you. She offered a smile and returned a quick glance to the results. Ra: What would you like to look at next? The little Caitian-Deltan looked to Ra and back to Jacin, stirring some contemplations. Jacin: You’re the experts. What’s the next step? R'Ariel: There are a lot of baselines in the database we can run these scan results against, and get some further medical perspectives on. Ra: Will you need assistance doctor? R'Ariel: I think we will be fine. She let the words weigh-in, emphasizing her belief in them being fine. Ra: Aye, sir. Can I get either of you anything specific in the meantime? R'Ariel: I'm good, and you? Jacin: Responses? The little counselor-doctor moved in closer. R'Ariel: You know what I think? Jacin: Response? R'Ariel: Psci-dolescence The Empath laughed at the sound of her own words, and the kind of reaction it would invoke. Jacin: Response? R'Ariel: It's like Adolescence, except for those with a form of psionic gift. Jacin: Response? R'Ariel: Well, as I told Ra, I'd like to run our scans across an even greater baseline, but I think we are looking at a pretty simple psionic development. Jacin: Response? R'Ariel: If you were a threat, I think I could sense it, so let's get you in for regular scans so we can keep an eye on the developments, and you and I can spend some fun time in the counselor's suite, getting in some good 'control' practice. How does that sound? Jacin: Response R'Ariel: For the moment, I would say the first lesson is simply, practice keeping a reign on your emotions. ::she paused:: Which I don't see any problems with. OOC: Sorry for the delay team, but I wanted to get some things sorted out in direct ooc first, with that done, here's my part of the sim. TAG/TBC Lieutenant Commander R'Ariel Chief Medical Officer Counselor Doctor of Psychology USS Arrow J239706R1

((An excellent little bottlesim from Jamie!)) ((USS Arrow, Deck 3, Room 9 Ar’Gorvalei’s Quarters)) Ar’Gorvalei fastened his collar and settled his dark blue and white coat over his shoulders. Strange, that he now felt more accustomed to wearing his Starfleet uniform than the stately robes of an Efrosian warrior-priest. The thought troubled him, and so he set it aside for later consideration. The commlink chimed, and Ar’Gorvalei opened the channel. On the screen appeared an elderly, wizened Efrosian, his skin spotted with age. Balding in front, it was worn long in back, and like most warrior-priests, his face was bare. Ar’Gorvalei bowed his head and pressed his palms together, pressing the tops of his fingertips to his lips in a gesture of supplication to one’s elder. Although the gesture was for himself alone, as Reverend Elder Ky-Thyros was completely blind. Ar’Gorvalei: ::Speaking in Efrosian:: I stand before you, Reverend Elder, between Fathomless Earth and Endless Sky. Ky-Thyros: ::Also speaking in Efrosian:: I stand before you as well, Novitiate Seeker, I suspect more literally between Fathomless Earth and Endless Sky than you do. ::Chuckles:: Are you still in the depths of deep space, somewhere in the Alpha Isles? Ar’Gorvalei: ::Smiles:: Yes, we’ve recently docked at the Raft-One outpost for repairs and shore leave. Which is good, after our recent mission … ::Pauses:: I was hoping you might have some information, about my … condition. By “condition,” they both knew Ar’Gorvalei was referring to his lack of directional sense, a finely-tuned ability of all Efrosians. The Arrow’s sojourn beyond the galaxy earlier in the year had somehow impaired his ability to form mental maps of his surroundings, something Ar’Gorvalei found more than a little frustrating. Oh, he could rely on technological assistance, but to have to rely on a PADD to do something he had taken as second nature all of his life was difficult. The elder shook his head, wispy white hair swaying back and forth. Ky-Thyros: I have shared your neurological scans with some of our most highly regarded specialists in the field, but they have not seen anything comparable. There is no evidence of physiological brain damage to account for it. There is nothing in our records, even in the Great Library of Healing, that is in any way close to this. What has happened to you appears to be … unique. Ar’Gorvalei closed his eyes. Ar’Gorvalei: I feared as much. Ky-Thyros: Perhaps, my son, if I might make a suggestion, perhaps your Time of Seeking should come to a close. Ar’Gorvalei looked up, eyes widened in surprise. Ar’Gorvalei: What … no … so soon? I’ve only been here for a little over a year. I’m not ready. Ky-Thyros: The Time of Seeking is not meant to be indefinite. And has it not already cost you enough? Perhaps in time our healers can find what is ailing you, and treat it. Or perhaps, you need time to truly live between Fathomless Earth and Endless Sky to set things right. Ar’Gorvalei: But my Seeking is not complete. The answers I’ve Sought, I still haven’t found them. Ky-Thyros: Perhaps those answers were never out among the stars to begin with. I think … and this is only my opinion, mind you, there is religious debate on this matter, as you well know, but I think that the gods of Efros, their truth, can only be found on Efros. Not out there. ::waves hand:: among the stars. That is the domain of other Powers, not ours. ::Leans forward:: Ar’Gorvalei, come home to us. Take your rightful place among us. Your people need you. Ar’Gorvalei: I … I will think on your words, Revered Elder. Ky-Thuros: Please do, and safe travels on all of your journeys, Novitiate Seeker Ar’Gorvalei. May the White Goddess watch over you no matter how far from home you travel. Ar’Gorvalei: Thank you, Revered Elder. oO Grandfather.Oo Ar’Gorvalei cut the connection, staring at the blank screen for several seconds afterward. NT, End Lieutenant j.g. Ar’Gorvalei Medical Officer U.S.S. Arrow A239809A11

((Two great writers, one great scene- what else could we want? Great job to Arrow powerhouses Maz Rodan and Jacin Ayemet!)) ((Pankot III - Capital Ruins)) Messoq: You were foolish to come here. In time I will acquire it. Morrack Are you so sure of that? So certain that allying yourself with the mewling Federation will ensure your ::Beat as he snarls at Messoq:: success? You play a dangerous game, Messoq. Messoq: No more so than you involving the Breen! Again you disregard the rules of ascension just like the rules of combat! He stepped forward menacingly. Morrack: Oh by all means step forward brave Captain Messoq. Step forward and receive your reward for your brazen actions. Messoq: You are a weak fool, and it will give me immense pleasure severing your head from your shoulders... Morrack let out a loud guttural laugh. Messoq: Brother. Morrack: Brother? I have no ‘Brother”, for my Brother would not put his own selfish ambition before duty to his tribe, his people, his planet. Morrack stepped forward, his hands tight fists, frustration and anger dwelling inside him. Morrack: And how dare you chide me for involving the Breen. I have my army and you have yours. At least I am more honest with my choices rather than your lies and pretence at being civilised, lying to his allies pleading with them to help him. If this is what the Chalnoth truly wanted you would have no need to go to anyone. You want nothing more but power, for our people to be held firmly under the heel of your boot! Messoq: Do not test me. I will find the Claw, and I will rule our people. The chaos has to end. Morrack You speak of chaos, and yet you waste your life destroying all that the Chalnoth stand for, have stood for for eons. SO desperate to rule, to have others bow to you in supplication, blind to the true will. Morrack bowed sarcastically and withdrew a small blade, letting the sun glint on the steel. He threw it at Messoq's feet, and the taller Chalnoth warrior didn't flinch as it stuck into the dusty ground. Messoq: A challenge... ::It was a simple statement rather than a question.:: That is all our people are, now. One challenge after another, one death after another followed by ritual challenges for revenge. It is wiping us out! It needs to stop. Can't you see that? He never expected his brother to listen to him, for he never did. Morrack. Your choice Messoq. I give you one last chance. Pick up the blade and return it to me and we can stop this madness. Or leave it there and I promise you, you will die before you can ever use the Claw, if not by my hand then by the hand of all those that oppose you. Messoq: This fight will not end here or now. Your threats are empty, and soon enough the Federation I will have the Claw. And you will be destroyed. Morrack: No it will not :pause: But it is not threat Messoq. It is not even a promise. It is an inevitability. As Shute as the sun would rise on the hunt, there will never be any victory or triumph for you. He picked up the knife ignored by Messoq, turning it over in his hand as it brought memories flooding back to him. He felt; sad. Sad that it had come to this. Sad that regardless of what happened to him, Messoq would die. Morrack: Do remember Father giving us our hunting daggers? How thrilled we were on the morning of our first hunt? Messoq: Response. Morrack shook his head slowly. Morrack: Those we’re simpler times, before you were blinded by wanton ambition. It brings me no pleasure in your destruction. But it shall be done for the good of all Chalnoth. Messoq: All in good time, brother. But first... ::He narrowed his eyes.:: I must deal with the Breen! Morrack smiled slyly. He had his own plans for the Breen. Much like the Federation they were merely a tool to be used and then discarded when of no further value. Morrack: You needn’t worry about them Messoq. Unlike the Federation they neither have the guile nor the skills necessary to be anything other than a blunt weapon. Messoq: Response He stepped forward and put his right hand on Messoq’s shoulder, sighing before he spoke. Morrack: This is the beginning of the end Messoq, but not of the Chalnoth. They shall be free this I swear to you. He stepped back. And tapped his wrist surreptitiously so that Messoq would not notice. Messoq: Response TAG/TBC MSNPC Captain Morrack Commanding Officer ICV SDragoon As simmed by: Lieutenant Jg Jacin Ayemet Science Officer USS Arrow A239810JA2

Adding a whole new meaning to dank reefer.

((Interior. U.S.S. Arrow, Deck 2. Transporter Room 1.)) Collins: Is it weird that I'm...a little excited? Tallera: Yes. Tallera, minding the finer workings of a miniature arsenal she was placing into her pack, had assumed the Commander was talking about the violence they might have to employ. She'd spent far too much time with Klingons. When she looked up and took in the smattering of gear Collins sported, she revised the assessment. Tallera: ...No? For the Vulcan side of her, priming gear was almost a form of meditation, so the interruption had been slightly jarring. The satisfying clicking-into-place of equipment, the tightening of straps, the bundling of spare environmental gear, the organization of sensors, tools, demolition charges... Everything in its place. That included everything from a lightweight Marine armor cinched around her torso and thighs, to the bandana hanging around her neck, to her hair tied back and firmly clipped into place. She took stock of their rag-tag team once more, from the multiple robes in the room to the franken-tricorder protruding from Collins' hip. That's right - this was an archeological mission, just with hungry, armed Chalnoth likely to beam down after them. She revised her statement once again. Tallera: Perhaps it is weird. :: A coy smile. :: Which I suppose would be perfectly normal for you, Commander. Weird people were more interesting, anyway. R'Ariel: RESPONSE MacKenna: Everyone have what they need? Collins: Aye, sir. I've also sent detailed scans of Plateau 3 to each of yer tricorders. Now they aren't perfect maps, but they should give us at least a decent sense of direction once we make planetfall. Tallera drew her pack close to her body and stepped onto the pad. Tallera: That will help, but we'll still want time to orient. Rescue will be slow if you get separated. R'Ariel: RESPONSE Tallera nodded, acknowledging the security detail as it arrived. MacKenna: As you noted from the primer, where we're headed is quite sandy, hot, and dry. Everyone have water and hydration tablets? Just like Vulcan. Tallera had spent a week there once, and found it distinctly not to her taste - just not because of the environment. If anything, she'd have something of a home field advantage with the climate they were expecting down there. Collins: I have some... Tallera: I've got extras, and food as well. She wouldn't likely need it, her body naturally capable of going without water for longer periods of time than her human companions. Still, there was no telling how long they'd be planet-side. R'Ariel: RESPONSE MacKenna: If we're ready... oO Ready... Oo There was a command, and the light took them. (( Pankot - Plateau 3 )) Tallera almost got a mouthful of sand before she could cover her nose and mouth with the fabric around her neck. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the wind and sun, but, when they did, she was already scanning the horizon. Her training had beat into her that the seconds after beam-down were some of the most dangerous. It seemed there were no angry Chalnoth, no relics, no traps... just sand. Even up on their slight perch, the sand-polished terrain around them was about as featureless as one could imagine, only sporadic patches of tough grass mixed into splotches of flat, hard pan. The dunes around them undulated into the distance, cutting the view distance almost as much as the thick orange sand swirling and spinning through the skies. No cover and bad visibility set her on edge. Any number of bad things could hide out here in the sand. When Collins sledded down the dune, she made a hand signal to the nearest marine to follow him down, lest he got separated. Marine 1: Anything, Commander? Quentin shrugged slightly. Collins: I have a heading, but not much else. Tallera: Does that heading take us to cover? This wind and sand will make for hard going. MacKenna/R'Ariel: RESPONSE Tallera almost missed the slight sound of sand falling on sand in the wind. Her head whipped to the source of the high frequency only to find a hairy, bulbous, black thing skittering up the leg of one of their guards. Security 1: I think I've got somethin-WAARRGH! She shifted her weight, and was rapidly surfing the few meters of sand down the dune all while the man was wrestingling with the arachnoid creature that was clearly very strong for its size. Before she made it to the scene, he'd freed a hand and punched the creature off of him. Not that strong, evidently. Collins: Sand Spiders! Why did it have to be Sand Spiders!? Tallera promptly ignored the Commander, and instead ran awkwardly through the soft sand to the sprawling spider, only just reaching it before the creature righted itself. She grabbed a firm hold of one of the legs, and grappled with the struggling being. Finally she felt its face (if the far-too-numerous mandibles and bubble-like eyes could be called that), there was a brief surprise when she felt a familiar neuro-chemical connection and... The spider relaxed, and so did Tallera. A second's silence, and she gently set the weirdly fuzzy thing down on the sand. It sat its bulbous form there, in a manner, looking confused as to what just happened. Tallera: You can relax, Commanders. I have explained to the spider that we do not intend to eat it. :: Beat. :: Or at least I think I have. She'd performed minor mind-melds with other non-sentient creatures before, and even with creatures who had highly developed central nervous systems it was something of a crapshoot. With a spider? It was more simple chemical communication: like showing a picture to a child and seeing if they threw a tantrum or not to determine what their favorite food was. The relatively docile nature was good enough for her. Collins/R'Ariel/MacKenna: Response Tallera: Does it not strike you odd that a creature we can obviously overpower would attack? We are not its food. I could only read a faint smell and a distorted image, but definitely a prey response. I believe the Chalnoth are somewhere nearby, and they actually ate some of these... spiders. It attacked, expecting us to do the same. Collins/R'Ariel/MacKenna: Response Tallera: The meld was quite tenuous and unintentional, I'm frankly surprised it worked at all... She had a sense this was going somewhere. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not. Any Team 3: Response Tallera: You want me to try what? She'd heard it alright, she just hadn't fully processed the request. The worst part? It wasn't the most insane thing she'd ever heard of. Any Team 3: Response Tallera: I suppose it would know where good places to hide and hunt are. :: She sighed heavily :: Very well, I will attempt to "ask" the spider if it knows of any large subterranean features. She knelt down, the spider waggling two front legs curiously at her. Tallera looked at it dubiously. She was surprised it hadn't run away already. Perhaps her ability to communicate in this way wasn't as accurate as she thought it was. She took a deep breath, trying to center her being as much as possible. It wouldn't do to have noise in the connection with this creature that wouldn't understand. She reached out again, this time with no fight. She conjured in her mind a series of images of caves, caverns, ruins - anything large and underground - then paired it with the smells of damp and stone and all the things a spider might actually understand. She terminated the strange connection with a feeling of questioning, as much as she could imagine a question might feel like. It was probably closer to asking for food than anything, but who knew? The mere fact she could communicate, in any form, was something. In reply, she felt hungry. Any Team 3: Response Tallera's hand retreated from the creature wordlessly, and she swung her pack around. She reached in and pulled out a small morsel of food. It dropped to the ground, and the spider swallowed it whole, then immediately started to scurry off. Tallera: Fascinating... :: Her voice was thousands of lightyears away. :: Any Team 3: Response She came back to the ground after the utterly bizarre experience. Tallera: I have either been swindled out of a small bit of food, or brokered a trade for directions. I think we're supposed to follow. Any Team 3: Response Tag/TBC... First Lieutenant Tallera Starfleet Engineering Corps Marine Detachment USS Arrow - NCC-69829 A239710MA0

((Space)) There was a perpetual chill that started quietly, but grew ever more vociferous as the hours stretched on. Tick, tock, the time marched to a steady beat as the air thinned and eventually faded from all existence, leaving nothing but a frigid void in its wake. Ice plated anything that had been capable of condensation, liquids that froze as temperatures far below that of typical 'zero' were becoming slush, and the groaning of tritanium and duranium, mixed with a dose of cracking from surfaces and materials that were never meant to be this cold made for a mournful but silent song sang by the good ship Arrow. Of all the sounds and tones and clangs and noises that resonated through the empty ship in the form of mere vibrations, through which there was no medium to carry, the most deafening was the absolute silence. There was nothing quite like the death of a ship, but to die in a blaze of glory and a magnificent explosion of light that burst outwards in a million different directions, igniting the very pitch of the caliginosity of the universe, was to taste of glory. To drift, potentially with no end until running aground on planet or other galactic body was something else entirely, devoid of the honor a ship such as the Arrow should have enjoyed. And yet, that seemed to be her fate. Again. A tiny glint of light reflected off of the cold, dark, metallic hull as she drifted in orbit of the strange Midnight planet, indifferent to who might have seen it, or who might not have. The star in the distance glinting off one of the newly repaired sections of her dorsal plane. No lights shone as they should have, the red and blue hues of the nacelles had long gone silent and black, joining the oblivion of space against which the only difference was the tiny points of light that indicated that maybe, somewhere out there, life continued on. And perhaps life could once more continue on there, should a way be found to reignite her heart. Trailing behind, like a tiny comet's tail, ice crystals drifted away from the star as the ship reached the terminator and crossed over into the daylight side of the planet. If anyone had been below, they might have seen it as a tiny smudge in the sky, a miniature comet that graced the transition from night to day every 129 minutes or so. Free-falling around the planet without power, the ship was nothing more than a satellite now, but one with so much promise yet left in its cold outer hull, and so many memories yet left within. Comics drifted upwards in one science officer's quarters, sending a strange display of images and words in large thought and action bubbles around the room, a red dress drifted through another room, along with a healthy (or not so healthy) dose of dog fur. Thread spools tumbled silently through yet another room, ever so slowly revolving in a way that almost mimicked the planet below. A velveteen box floated upwards within a case, inside which two rings came in contact with each other and glowed softly, promising a future to the room and, perhaps, the inhabitants who once lived there. Elsewhere, a ball made its way through the quarters of one security officer, intermingling with a dish that still had remnants of water in it that had long turned to ice, belonging to a certain spiked pig and beloved pet. Numerous other personal effects found their way out of their designated places around the ship and drifted, left behind by those who had once loved them, traded for the chance to live. Now, as the ship continued its trek onwards into yet another night cycle of its orbit, the ice-tail died away and plunged the tiny metal object into complete invisibility against the inky backdrop of the Cimmerian shade. And so it would continue, until time would affect her, or somehow, life would return. TBC The Arrow As simmed by: -- Commander Ash MacKenna Chief Intelligence Officer USS Arrow R238605KN0

"I am the state". -Louis XIV

@Artinus Serinus, this is simply adorable. I've never wanted to cuddle a spiky mini-pig so badly in all my life. ((Serinus Quarters, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) It had been 6 or was it 7, sleeps since the noises, the horrendous squalling of which, made her conclude that they were residing in a living being, perhaps one much like herself. A seemingly infinite Targ. TlhIroghnI' lie groggily in her sleep box in all it's fuzzy, warm and comfy, red boxed striped glory. It was early morning, and her two leg was out to the place that made him smelly and wet. But she knew that he'd be back soon to clean up in the magic box, and take her for her walkie in her chest straps, or as he called it a har'nis. He wasn't like the two legs she knew before, the ones who lived with her mom, for starters, he didn't have the head bumps. Or talk nearly as loudly. There were voices just outside the opening wall that her two leg used to come and go with. Neither of them was her two leg, or any other she knew, or had met. She gave out a warning snort and squeal, lest they dare think to enter the home of her and her two leg. TlhIroghnI': Orrnk, sqeeeee! They continued walking and soon their voices were quite distant. She was awfully proud of herself for diverting the potential encroachment of her territory. They hadn't ran, like everyone had when the giant Targ they lived in had been so distressed. But maybe some day, she could inspire such dread! She never found out what made their home so angry. Was there another giant Targ trying to come on it's territory? Was their living there causing it pain? She hoped not, but it didn't seem to bother it usually. Maybe one of the two legs did something to hurt it, on accident. Not her two leg, he was very careful as well as affectionate. She had no doubt that he was as caring towards their host as he was with her. ((Timeskip: Halfway to the next sleep.)) Her two leg was gone to the place that took up most of his time, and she heard two other unfamiliar two legs talking. With all of her might, she sounded out her warning again. TlhIroghnI': Orrnk, sqeeeee! The voices continued just outside of the opening wall, seemingly unperturbed by her admonishment. She didn't understand them, but the familiar word "Targ" caught her ear. Were the talking about her? Or the big one? Ops Crewman 1: Nonsense Geral, I heard she's tiny. Barely weaned from the stories. Crewman Geral: Doesn't matter, she'll still try to defend her home, like any Targ would. Then it happened. The two legs entered her domain carrying things in their hands. She gave another warning, with increased urgency. Stay out, two legs. My two leg and I claim this place! TlhIroghnI': Orrnk, sqeeeee! Ornnk, ornnk, squeeeeeee! These intruders, these interlopers, began to move her two legs' possessions. What nerve! They were obviously hostile and she charged the nearest one for such a blatant escalation. They finished whatever nefarious task they had begun with little regard to her, as she made warning pass, after warning pass. They spoke again, in their two leg language, different than the one she had been raised around, the one her own two leg spoke usually, though she knew he spoke the other as well, as he had done so with the younger two leg that gave her to him. Crewman Geral: We should try to contain her, lest she spike one of us. Ops Crewman 1: Yeah, I guess so. The ruffians began to chase her, and she evaded them effortlessly, for several minutes, wearing them down with feints, and quick reflexes. But then, they had cornered her. She had no hope of winning, and escape seemed as impossible as a successful defense. There was only one option left. She ran and leapt into the deep disk that held the dirt, and cowardly burrowed to hide, shaming herself as she waited for the intruders to leave. Time seemed to creep along, immeasurably slowly, as they did who knows what to her living space. When they had finally left, she cautiously began to emerge. She found to her horror that so many things seemed to be moved. Most notably, they had moved her two legs' flat sleeping box, and replaced with a skinnier version, with a second sleeping box held above the first, suspended by some metal poles. How would she ever live with her disgrace. She only hoped that her two leg could forgive her. NT/End TlhIroghnI', pet Targ of Artinus Serinus. As simmed by: Lieutenant Artinus Serinus Chief Security Officer USS Arrow, NCC-69829 Publicity Team/Social Media Team C239607AS0

"Hey Abbott!" "I hate that guy!" Robin Hood: Men In Tights

((Main thoroughfare, Atlas Base)) ((Timestamp: After the awards ceremony.)) It was inadvisable to be walking alone in uniform, especially a dress uniform, but if anyone could defend themselves,especially while not under arms, it was Lieutenant Artinus Serinus. The tall, dark, and handsome Magna Roman had been wrestling since age five, was proficient in several other martial arts, and was among the top 10 decorated athletes in Academy history. He hadn't really got to tour the base in any unofficial capacity, and had an overwhelming desire to get the lay of the land. In the distance, on the right, was a Klingon child of about 10, probably a girl from their clothing, standing behind a box. As he got closer, he saw writing on the box in Klingon, that said "Free to good home" He could now hear the cacophony of tiny grunting coming from the box. oO Baby Targs?Oo He approached the child, a girl he was now certain of it. Artinus: Greetings young warrioress, are you giving away targ babies? Klingon girl: Yes, Father says that we can't afford to feed them now that they are weaned. Can't afford them? Why wasn't he making her sell them? Perhaps he shouldn't look a gift Targ in the mouth. But he felt sorry for the kid and het family nonetheless. He made a mental note to track down the family and bring some replicated meals. He looked down in the box spying three spiky piglets, each with course black and white fur. He leaned down and very gingerly picked one, the runt, up. He gave it a quick look over to access it's health, then checked it's sex. It was a female, which would be ideal. Targs were possibly aggressive enough, without the extra testosterone. Serinus: What breed are these? Klingon girl: Miniature swordbacks. Serinus: I don't know that breed, I assume they are a pet breed? After all, why would a hungry family give up a potential meal or three? Klingon girl: That is correct. Serinus: This girl ::holding up the targlet:: does she have a name? Klingon girl: Father said that we shouldn't name the runt. They die a lot in that breed. The horrors of selective breeding. Still, this tiny targlet had survived. Thankfully, he had seen the memo on preapproval for all reasonable pets. He'd bring her aboard tonight, and file the paperwork when he got to his personal P.A.D.D. Serinus: ::giving a small smile downwards:: I'll take her. Thank you! Klingon girl: Could I say goodbye first? Serinus: Sure! He handed her carefully to the child, who scratched the targlet's head, and told her to be brave, and good, and then handed her back over. Serinus: She'll have a good home, I promise. The girl smiled this time. Klingon girl: Thank you, sir. He cradled his new pet in his left arm, and waved to the girl. Serinus: Q'apla! Klingon girl: Q'apla! NT/End Lieutenant Artinus Serinus Chief Security Officer USS Arrow, NCC-69829 Publicity Team/Social Media Team C239607AS0

The theme of the Starship Arrow and her merry band is Robin Hood! Thwack!

(( Hall 1, Deck 16, Starbase 821 )) Nakada: Commander, who can I speak to about getting back on board the ship? I’d like to help out with the repairs. I have little other work on board the station anyway. Shayne: Good man. I’ll speak to the dock master, but don’t forget- you’ve got enough on your plate already. That paperwork isn’t going to finish itself, and right now, you’re the ranking engineering officer. Keneth was a bit confused for a second, before he caught on, mentally facepalming himself. He was being told to submit the engineering reports, which, considering he was the only engineering officer onboard at the moment, made sense. The tactical officer seemed to have come to a similar conclusion Serinus: Yes sir, seeing as there are currently no Tactical Officers assigned to the Arrow, at least to my knowledge, is it safe to assume that those responsibilities fall on me, as well? Shayne: At least for the time being, yes. I will be reassessing that regularly, but for now, you are our duly notarized Security and Tactical officer. I assume you’re up for it? He didn’t hear the officer’s response, mentally dividing his work. He definitely had It cut out for himself. He was brought back by a curt silence, followed by the realization that the others were watching him. Nakada: Sorry. Yes, sir. I’ll get to the report immediately. Should be done well before we launch. He nodded and turned away, heading towards the turbolift. It was time to see how the ship was doing. (( Main Engineering, Deck 3, USS Arrow )) So, update. The ship was doing fantastically, all things considered. It seemed the starbase crew had given up on the existing warp core after it had “emitted puffs of lemon-scented black vapor and spilled its coolant matrix onto the deck” or as the dock master had put it “it threw up so we yanked it”. They had just replaced the entire assembly, which was surprisingly simple, owing to the existing ejection mechanisms. The new core was purring soundly, plus had a minor upgrade so they could actually sustain Warp 5 without sacrificing other systems, such as the secondary medical computer. He had helped them with the rest of the deck, which had been completely cleaned up with fresh teal paneling, uncracked displays and a spotless floor to top it off. The modularity was a blessing. Entire consoles were just … removed and replaced. In some ways, the urgency of the situation was an agent as well. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t have gotten unlimited use of the industrial replicators without some pulled strings somewhere. There were hidden signs of the expedited timeline though. His audit had revealed that much of the power system had been hastily patched around. While the damaged and destroyed hardware had been cleared, some of the work was … unfavorable. They had had to run nearly all the weapons through just two relays, which was uncomfortably non-redundant, but the remaining lines had been completely trashed and they did not have the time to replace them. He had then proceeded to ask where the holodeck was, so that they could take it offline for the time being. This had lead to a half an hour search, after which a crewman had the excellent sense to consult the computer. The computer had cheekily (that might have been in his head) replied that the only recreational facility onboard was a gymnasium. Keneth just shook his head. The ship was quite old and had been built for the war - at least this meant one less power draw on the system. He’d finished up his report toward late evening, as the starbase personnel had finally departed, leaving an unrecognizable deck and a lonesome PADfD full of data. His quarters were a deck below, which suited him just fine. It meant that it was less likely somebody would show up at two in the morning with an inane request like “should we light the warp core yellow or blue today” or “Dan caught his beard on a plasma conduit” or “can we have a toilet near the Jefferies tube”. For the billionth time, no, he was not going to ask Commander Shayne for a toilet near … how did they even come up with this? In other news, he’d finally trimmed his beard to a less scraggly windswept look, which Crewman Patrick had chided him for. You should look wild!, he’d proclaimed while he stroked his own gigantic face plumes. Keneth told him that any more hair on board and they’d collectively clog the air ducts. Overall, when he sat down on the big chair in his room, he was feeling quite satisfied. He was somewhat nervous about what they were heading into though. Those kind of numbers were last seen … Romulus. He suddenly realized what had been irking him. For all the amazing work the crew had done, they had absolutely no idea what kind of horror show they were about to arrive in. They were a small, weakish ship by any reasonable metric. Starfleet’s main strength has always been it’s people, he reminded himself. They didn’t really churn out officers like the Klingons. It took years of training, resources and dedication to graduate. Their best hope, like always, was to simply outsmart the enemy. He fidgeted with his hot chocolate, his fourth that day, especially since he discovered they had a caffeinated version. There would be more information at the briefing he console himself, as he forced himself to doze off into a fitful sleep. Just outside, the stars burned bright into the void that they would soon be back in.

@Sal Taybrim I am- and this is true- an absolute cretin. Please accept my apologies. I completely forgot that you were the mind and writer behind Cade Foster. I look forward to writing with you again, either with Cade or Taybrim. And this time, I'll try not to be such a fully-rigged, rate A-1, ocean going pillock.

I wanted to say so much throughout this, but I kept getting behind with all the other festivities. Now that it’s ended, I can put out what I wanted to say since the beginning. @Kali Nicholotti: You are wonderful. You have been a cornerstone of this fleet for longer than I’ve been a member, and I have enjoyed the privilege of watching you, and learning from the best. Earning TOSMA has been a long time coming, and your abilities when it comes to writing the tricky post of Intelligence is something we can all appreciate. You rock, and I am so glad you are here with us. @Artinus Serinus: Joseph, you are a fighter. I’ve come to respect and appreciate you and your determination, your spirit and your writing acumen. The Genesis Award, in this case especially, and the Laudian Commendation, reflect your admirable rise, and it is just a harbinger of what I know you’re capable of. Congratulations to you on these well-earned designations. @Noa T'Nessa Levinson: This community thrives on the life and excitement of its members, and you have added to that excitement tenfold. We are fortunate to have you, and the Juneau is fortunate to call you one of their own. You have impressed me with both your writing skill and your dedication to your shipmates. I see great things for you in this fleet, and I am most proud of you. Keep being excellent. @Jo Marshall: I could point to any one of your remarkable acts of service to this fleet, and call it a fine basis on which to thank you, but that just doesn’t do it justice. It seems you have a hand in everything in this fleet, from your ship to these awards ceremonies, and I am so thankful for your selfless dedication and kind spirit that benefits the experience of every person in this fine fleet of ours. I am honored to know you. @Quentin Collins III: Justin, what can I say? You’ve been essential to the Juneau, and I don’t know where I’d be without you on the Arrow. You have my first week in command joyful, just as you’ve brought esprit de corps to every endeavor you’ve embarked upon. Your enthusiasm breathes life into difficult tasks or unpleasant moments, and reminds me why what we have here is special. I am beyond pleased to have you as my XO, and I know that, so long as I find a sim in my inbox from you, the day is worth waking up for. @Melody Delri'ise: You have brought to life your character with a subtlety and grace that are remarkable to behold. I will miss the IC spats we had, and I will look on with great anticipation to see what you achieve in these coming months. You are an exceptional writer, and I would jump at the chance to sim with you again. Take care, and congratulations on your well-earned awards! @Chloe Waters Jesse, you beat the odds every day, and you are an inspiration for myself and others. Your drive has overcome challenges that would likely conquer me, and your nuanced sims, are more often than not, fascinating dives into exceptional studies of character. I look forward to writing with you more on the Arrow. Well done indeed. @Anath G'Renn: I remember our joint posts, written long ago, that engaged me like little else at those distracting times. I am grateful to you for your tenacity and your writing expertise, and I am delighted to see you recognized for your skills and your capabilities as a simmer. Well earned! @Jalana: Massive congratulations on your promotion to commodore, and most sincere thanks for your long history of dedication to your ship and fleet. I am grateful for your advice, your guidance, and your openness. I know I can count on you in moments of doubt or hesitation, and we are lucky to count you among us. @Quinn Reynolds: It is to my sincere regret that we have never simmed together, but despite this, your council has helped me to improve my own simming and leadership skills. Their true test is upcoming, but I feel better prepared than before, and supported to a point I could not have dared to hope for. Thank you for your devotion, and congratulations on being the first recipient of the Elinor of Kanist! @Geoffrey Teller: In times of fear or change, you have proven yourself to be an officer that any commander would be fortunate to have. In times of peace and stability, you are an officer that excels beyond the sum of what you are given, and reaches new heights. Your writing is top-notch, your rise is meteoric, and your spirit is indomitable. You are a leader in every sense of the word, and you are a credit to the uniform and the fleet. Congratulations! Oh, and next time, I am going to crush you 1V1. 😜 @Roshanara Rahman: Whether it be with the FNS, or with bumbling, neurotic first officers making their way to the captaincy, I have come to know you as a wealth of fine advice, and dedicated spirit. Thank you for your support. Congratulations on receiving the Honor of the Admiralty! @Oddas Aria: Thank you for all the good times. Thank you for your support. Thank you for helping me get off to a fine start on my own ship. The list of what I owe you thanks for is longer than my arm, but know that your guidance and fine tutelage are appreciated and counted on each day. Congratulations on earning the Staff Member of the Year award and the Christopher Pike Pendant- they are well-deserved. @Sal Taybrim. I don’t believe we’ve written together once, but you have made me a better officer through your example. I look forward to working with you in whatever form that may take, and congratulations on your Sarek Star! @Jarred Thoran: The fact is this, my friend; you have rewritten the rules on what it means to be a commanding officer and a leader. The simple truth is that I would not be the man I am without your friendship, advice, council and support. You have guided me through rough times, accepted me at my worst and encouraged me at my best. I know I am not alone in that. You have more than earned your place among the fleet’s all time greats, and each commanding officer, in the future, right now, and dare I say the past, would be wise to follow your wisdom and example. I cannot tell the future, but I can say this: thank you. Thank you for your unremitting service, your dedication, and your friendship. I am better because of you, I am strengthened because of you. Whatever comes, you are amazing, and I appreciate you more than words can express. Congratulations on earning the James T. Kirk Cross handily- you are an inspiration. Congratulations to all the recipients of this year's awards, and here's to another phenomenal year of simming.

((OOC: Awesome sim, Ensign @Keneth Nakada!)) (( Shuttlebay 2, USS Arrow )) Nakada: ::whispering:: Commander, those are some very primitive suits. Collins: Indeed, Ensign, but maybe we can turn that to our advantage. Scan for any junction points, exposed areas, or weak points in the structure of the suits if you can and as quick as you like, thank you... Keneth took a second to steady his hands. He was scared. Really scared. First time, eh? His brain chirped a little too cheerily. Adrenaline kicked in pretty quickly and he fumbled his tricorder open, carefully breaching the dampening field with just the front of the sensors pack. A reassuring stream of data began appearing. Atmospheric pressure, spatial volume … engineering schematic breakdown. The device’s scans showed what appeared to be unibody insulated construction, except for ... Nakada: The sides.The tiny black indentations on the sides of the suit appear to be exposed circuitry, maybe to ground it, or externally deactivate the suit. Regardless, I they appear to connect directly to the internal systems. Probably. Most of it was just guesswork. It had been a while since he’d read an engineering schematic raw. He was too used to nice holographic representations with simulations. Collins: Of course they bloody are. ::He turned to the warrant officer.:: Would shooting those kill them? The warrant officer thought for a second. Kingsley: It should - or I imagine it might cause an overload in their power systems and cause them some time to reset. Even some time to reset would be helpful. Collins: Okay, good. I want to stem any more loss of life if we can avoid it. Here's the play. I am going to get them to expose that area and then you two, being the hip young gunslingers you are, are going to disable them. Hopefully allowing us to ask them a few questions and get up to the Bridge to hopefully kill that ruddy dampening field. Everyone clear? He nodded, fighting an impulse to giggle at hip young gunslingers. It was a snort-worthy comment. Nakada: Yes, sir. Collins: If I told you that, you wouldn't let me do it. Just be ready... Keneth watched keenly. Maybe the commander had some further knowledge about them that he could glean from what he did next. Then the commander raised his hands and sprinted comically at the suits. He was torn between calling the commander a fumbling idiot and simply saying it was technically the simplest trick in the book. So simple it would work. The warrant officer looked like she wanted to have an aneurysm as she bit her tongue. Collins: Heya, boys! The suit let out a noise. He sincerely hoped it was a similarly raucous introduction. Collins: SAY, this isn't Deep Space 12! Gee, Stellar Cartography isn't what it used to be, is it? Keneth had to actively remind himself of what was happening to stay focused. This was hilarious. Collins: I tell ya, boys, you think you know a map and then it just spits ya out right where ya least wa- In a flash that broke his semi-unfocused state of befuddlement, the creature got over its confusion and grabbed the science officer, lifting him up like a helium carcass. Damn it, the commander couldn’t be hurt now. He had to find out what Skeets was. Just as he began to calculate how to get within range of the creature safely, Kingsley sprinted ahead. He wasn’t completely sure what to do, so he followed, staying to the side. Boarder #1: STARRRRRRFLEETERRRR. See, that was an aberration of Federation Standard. Kingsley raised her phaser and fired straight at the narrow strip of exposure. In a moment of horror Keneth realised he was directly where the creature would fall. Cursing his absentmindedness, he ran around the creature, hoping he was still hidden, though that probably meant very little to the boarder’s sensors. Kingsley: That was stun! Increase to full power! He could hear faint beeps as the warrant officer adjusted her phaser settings and fired again. CRACK A small plasma shockwave went through the corridor as the electrical discharge arced outward. The boarder holding Collins dropped to the ground, though he couldn’t see what happened to the commander. He also very quickly realised that the other boarder was very quickly approaching him, raising his arm. Keneth was still dazed from the shockwave and wouldn’t be able to aim and Kingsley’s phaser was probably completely discharged … So he did the one thing he had been told never to do. He aimed his phaser at the access hatch across the hallway, closed his eyes and fired. He couldn’t risk announcing it - hopefully the other two would duck. SNAP The plasma conduit exploded, the remaining superheated gas in it dousing the other creature, ions overcharging their suits. A loud snapping sound came as a pungent odour of burning bulkhead material filled the air, another flash searing his retinas. The remaining boarder had dropped down. Nakada: HELLO? Commander? Kingsley? Anyone there?! He coughed violently as he steadied himself against the wall, desperately searching for the other two in the haze. He could feel his jovial nature wearing off as the situation settled and he realized what had just happened. Collins: Response Kingsley: Response Nakada: ::coughing:: I can’t, I don’t - He wanted to pass out. He was in over his head. He was supposed to tinker with EPS efficiencies and Warp XV drives. This wasn’t fair. It had been twenty four hours. Barely any time to do anything he’d imagined. Time to be a normal officer. He fought his nausea, his head spinning. Well, he thought ironically. He had the opportunity so many dreamed of – to make a difference. His crewmates were depending on him. Collins: Response Nakada: I don’t know how long we have. They seemed to be able to abs, ads, absorb ::heaving:: a fair amount of energy. We should assume they’ll wake up within fifteen minutes I’d think. He dropped to the floor and shook his head clear, fragments of debris falling out of his hair. They’d come so close to being puddles of soup. Collins: Response Kingsley: Response Ensign Keneth Nakada Engineering USS Juneau, NX-99801 J239706KN0

Many officers approach Starfleet with high hopes and ambitious dreams. In some cases, these dreams include reaching the captain’s chair, or even the admiralty, a noble conclusion to a fine career of service and exploration. However, in some rare cases, Starfleet officers have gone beyond even these remarkable achievements, and have taken up positions in governance and civil service, or, as with Jonathan Archer, the presidency. It goes without saying that politics and civilian work do not appeal to all characters in our universe, or people in our world, and that acting as the president of a trillion individuals united under a single banner would be no easy feat. But someone must fill the role, and who better than an officer that has spent their life in the pursuit of the Federation’s ideals? How interested would YOUR character be in acting as President of the United Federation of Planets?

The courtroom was a taciturn affair, bland and uninteresting. Indeed, it was room modified by necessity; its purpose had been to hold spare deuterium tanks and spent parts, not to house the practice of law. And yet, the addition of several pennants on the walls- sigils representing Starfleet, the Federation and the starship Quin’lat added a sense of propriety and nobility to the otherwise dingy affair. For all its patriotic imagery, the room was taut. The seating was packed with people. Beings from across space had packed themselves into the cramped accommodations, rejecting the admiralty’s strategy of limiting the audience by moving the hearing to the Quin’lat from the nearby Starbase 773- the place from which this entire debacle had begun. Merchants, scholars, and- somewhat concerningly- a small contingent of purple-bedecked prylars, had taken up a vigil near the front. It was clear from Admiral T’Lara’s unusually pursed lips that this was already a poor start to what would likely be at best a grueling day, and at worst… one that might well live in infamy. Before her and to the left sat the prosecution. Commander Snow carefully addressed his already immaculate work space, smiling peacefully, but all the while bearing heavy eyes. Several feet away, the defense stewed. One of the men, identified by his four-pipped collar of red and his stolid, terrifyingly calm features, was Captain Dolame Reager, commanding officer of the Quin’lat. The other man, similarly human and composed of a softer disposition, was Lieutenant Argyle Mallon. His hands were folded before him, and he bore the confidence of a guaranteed victor. The gentle tapping of a bell, three tones of two, brought the quiet rumble of hushed conversations to an end. Admiral T’Lara cast her eyes about the room, and spoke in a clear, melodious voice. “This hearing, convened on Stardate 239601.23, is now in session. Commander Snow, you may proceed”. Snow stood slowly, spreading a dignified hand over his already smooth uniform. “I would like to call Lieutenant Mallon to the stand”. On cue, as though nothing else could have been said, Mallon stood, and airly made his way to the witness stand. He sat comfortably, and eyed Snow with vague curiosity as he extended his hand toward the verifier. A warble of electronic noise heralded the arrival of a man’s condensed accomplishments. “Verified. Lieutenant Argyle Mallon” The computer asserted. “Current assignment; USS Quin’lat. Starfleet Command decoration for valor and gallantry. Beta Serpentis Expedition Medal, Daystrom Institute Commendation for Scientific Advancement…” The list continued for some time, each success seemingly more relevant and vast than the others before it. When it concluded some seventy seconds later, Commander Snow smiled. “An impressive career, made more extraordinary by your age and experience, lieutenant. A career based in honor and intelligence, but more than that… choices. Would you agree, lieutenant?” Mallon considered Snow for a long moment before smiling. “It is… a valid perspective, Commander.” “I’m pleased you feel that way, lieutenant”. Snow genuinely did sound glad. There was an unconventional sort of openness about him, well away from the dogged determination that many prosecutors elsewhere might display. “We are, after all, products of choices. Indeed, we are here now as a result of a choice- another fair characterization, lieutenant?” This time, Mallon was slower to respond. “Perhaps, sir. The topic of whose choice is still up for much debate.” Snow puckered his lips and nodded thoughtfully. “Well stated. Allow me, then, to clarify- and do feel free to interrupt me if I make an error here. On stardate 329512.02, the entire crew of the starship Quin’lat, yourself included, received certain orders from Starfleet Command. These orders, dispatched from Starfleet Medical, included instructions for a new round of inoculating medications to be administered to all hands.” Snow drew himself out, and tilted his head in confusion. “Mr. Argyle, as I understand it, you refused those orders”. Argyle nodded. “Yes, sir. That is correct.” “Hmm. And… your reasoning for this action was spiritual in nature, was it not?” Argyle again paused. “Technically, sir, yes. My spirituality, however, is far more present in my life than that of most other humanoids. My roots stem from the Ty’bek mountains of Terra Nova.” T’Lara was listening intently to the peaceful discourse before her, but out of the corner of her eye, she could not help but notice the expression of quiet fury on the face of Captain Reager. “Yes- most present, I gather. Of particular note is your aversion, shall we say, to certain plants and medications?” “Yes, sir”. “Plants and medications that were present in the new vaccine Starfleet Medical ordered for all hands aboard the Quin’lat?” “Yes, sir- precisely.” Snow wrapped his hands around his back and began to pace before the witness chair. “Are you familiar, Lieutenant Argyle, with the circumstances regarding this order to innoculate?” Argyle nodded slowly. “Yes, I believe it was an outbreak of Rigelian Fever”. “Rigelian Fever- damned nasty”. Snow paused, swallowed slightly, and continued. “What would you, in your expert opinion, deem as the most dangerous feature of this particular illness?” Argyle perked up. “The rapidity with which it reaches the terminal stage. Those with Rigelian Fever either improve drastically or perish approximately twenty-four hours after infection.” “Damned nasty indeed.” Snow’s hands were clenched. “And yet… you refused the inoculation all the same”. “Yes, sir, I did”. Argyle was placid. Saved. But the upper hand was enjoyable to indulge. “Ingesting those ingredients would certainly see me denied entry to the Holy Resplendence after my death. I chose not to contaminate my body with such pollution. A choice, I might add, granted by the Federation Charter-”. “I would advise that you leave the intricacies of Federation law to me, Lieutenant”. Admiral T’Lara’s tone was icy but impartial. Argyle nodded towards her deferentially and returned his gaze to Snow. “That was my reasoning, and my choice.” “Then what?” Argyle sighed after a moment’s pause. “The situation was brought to the captain’s attention. Soon after, I was charged with disobeying the order of a superior, and sent to the brig. When not here, I am confined there, as I have been for approximately one standard week.” “An… unfortunate turn of events, to be sure”, said Snow, his voice filled with regret. “You then decided to challenge the charge?” “Yes, sir- and I should like to point out that, in defense of this attempt, I am enjoying the counsel of Captain Reager himself.” Argyle extended a hand to his captain and bowed his head. Reager’s eyes were intensely focused ahead of him.” “Most noble of the captain.” Snow nodded respectfully toward the glowering superior. “He protects his own. He has been doing that since he took command. It’s his job. You understand that? You understand that diseases like this kill in days? You understand that if he did anything but lock you away, and insist that everyone take the vaccine, he would be endangering everyone aboard? And everyone the Quin’lat came into contact with?” “To a degree.” Mallon leaned forward conversationally. “I’ve researched this disease and many others. Most are completely treatable with our technology today. Yes, a few may die of complications, but we are not immortal, nor are we designed to be. Plants and herbs and things overrule my feelings, my beliefs, all for what you say is the common good. Even if I don’t take it, the rest of the crew will. They will be protected! I don’t interact with many other people besides. Call me whatever you wish- delusional, irresponsible- but I do not deserve to lose my commission, and I do not deserve to be discriminated against in this way!” His voice was now high, angry, strained. The sudden attack was as close to real as it needed to be. The prylars near him kept a quiet gaze on Mallon, but murmurings from the crowd again began. “The gallery will return to order”, Admiral T’Lara confidently declared, and quickly, it was so. Snow moved toward Mallon suddenly, and the lieutenant nearly recoiled. “Argyle. I know you. I’ve known you since the Serpentis Expedition. You are brilliant. You don’t deserve to lose your commission, but least of all over something like this! You must accept that vaccine, for the good of us all! One more sacrifice to be made, but you and your life and those around you are worth it- please, Argyle! A personal favor if nothing else!” “Objection.” The tone was strong, and somber. Captain Reager was now standing, his impressive size and aura placing a blanket over any mutterings that may have resumed from behind. “The defense is influencing the witness”. “Sustained”, ruled the admiral, raising an eyebrow at the unusual statement. Snow, for his part, looked at Mallon with a genuine sadness before turning to address the audience, and Admiral T’Lara. He opened his hands and spread them to the audience, before lowering them and smiling ruefully. “I tried. I really tried. I rest, your honor.” Snow returned to his seat, now more disheveled and weakened by his performance. Admiral T’Lara looked to Reager. “Your witness, Captain.” Reager stood, and the rage in his eyes was suddenly directed precisely at Mallon. He wasted no time. “I declare that Mr. Mallon ought to be allowed to stay in Stafleet without taking the medication. Allow me to explain. Lieutenant. You were a part of the Serpentis Expedition?” “Yes, captain, that is correct.” “Describe it”. Reager’s reply nearly clipped the end of Mallon’s statement. Mallon, for his part, was ready. “Beta Serpentis was a medicinal research colony under the flag of Starfleet. Though the colony was designed to be remote in its construction, over the centuries it became larger and more general, transitioning to an active hospital facility as Federation civilians began to move there.” “And what happened there?” Here Mallon hesitated slightly, but spoke clearly. “Five years ago- in fact, on this very day- an act of terrorism partially destroyed the Beta Serpentis Medical Complex.” “Cost?” Reager’s business-like tone and apparent callousness stirred ire in the crowd behind him. Admiral T’Lara’s gavel again silenced it. “One hundred and thirteen dead, three hundred others wounded.” “Would you agree that it was a tragedy?” Mallon nodded somberly. “Yes, very much so”. “I wouldn’t.” Now the rage from behind the hearing stage swelled powerfully. The security officers flanking both sets of doors placed hands on their phasers. Admiral T’Lara stood, and gazed at the assembled masses with such insistent vigor that those that noticed advised their more irate comrades to calm themselves. “This will stop, or I will hold the next disruptor in contempt”. A muffled cough was the only response. Reager continued unabated. “Hundreds dead, yes? A sad thing to be sure. But- and this is merely my opinion on the subject- the casualties that followed were the real tragedy. Would you care to enlighten us to your experiences there?” Mallon’s eyes had gone from righteous, to startled, to utterly confused. He shook his head. Reager grinned. “Well, allow me. Beta Serpentis is a thriving world, a world with every sort of microbe and bacteria and animal. Thousands of disease samples from across the Federation and beyond were kept in cold storage and studied there, and thanks to the technology designed to maintain it, when the attack struck the hospital, the hazardous material was harmlessly destroyed. But… the illnesses on Beta Serpentis, native to that world and partly responsible for shaping it into the cruel vision of greenery it is today… change. They change quicker than most.” Reager moved toward his desk, and picked up a PADD. “In the words of the Head of Starfleet Medical at the time, ‘it is my opinion that the loss of these disease samples and equipment with which to synthesize effective antidotes to that year’s particularly egregious viral season contributed to the otherwise preventable deaths that occurred during that time- a number approaching nearly two million people.’” Reager wasn’t even bothering to hide his intensity, and Mallon continued to implore his captain for answers with his eyes. “Now… with that all said and done, answer me this, Lieutenant; In your professional opinion, why might someone keep such lethal materials so close at hand?” Mallon considered, and then responded. “To study, of course. There exist… certain occasions where maintaining a dangerous item, in order to learn from it and defeat it, is wise.” Reager allowed himself another small smile before turning toward Admiral T’Lara, who’s expression told of a dawning understanding. “I rest my case, your honor.”

It’s been a staple of the Original Series for its entire run. Visited three times over the seasons, the Galactic Barrier stands as one of the more esoteric and dangerous threats the crew of the Starship Enterprise ever faced. Other vessels had and have attempted to penetrate the enormous purple energy field, usually at great- or absolute- cost. One thing is certain; though dangerous, the secrets it holds are probably vast. Starfleet’s mission, one of discovery and protection, would make the Galactic Barrier a tempting target for starship crews across the quadrants. Under what circumstances would you cross or enter the Galactic Barrier?

Hello! Is there a word limit?

Recently, the last episode of Picard’s first season was aired, or… added? Anyway, it’s been out for awhile now. Before the first episode was released, we ran a poll asking you what you were looking for in the new show. Most of y’all wanted a juicy story to get involved in. There is plenty of debate regarding whether the show delivered that, but as with any new piece of media, in depth consideration will take some time. We may ask for more thoughtful consideration in the future, but for right now, what did you think of the first season of Picard? Did it satisfy? Did it disappoint? Did it not interest you? Have you not watched it? What did you think of Picard? Let us know in the comments below! And please remember- no spoilers!