Etan Iljor

It's about time we had one of these for our wonderfully wacky and eclectic ship and all who sail in her. Go nuts!

((A Grove of Seven Trees, Memorial Forest, Thama Homeworld)) A warm breeze flitted through the graceful, slender branches of the l'far trees, filling the grove with a gentle rustling that Ashal Koas found pleasant and soothing. Her spade dug into the rich black dark soil easily as it had for the last two hours, shifting the dirt aside and forming a small mound nearby. With each load of soil moved she got closer to her goal but her pace was unhurried and regular. Even here, in the company of those she held most dear, she didn't risk letting her mask slip. Not now. Not when she was so close. Another scoop of dirt set aside, and she was a step closer to finishing her journey. The wind gusted, the l'far trees swaying, the light playing off their crystalline leaves. She could hear them speaking to her. They encouraged her when she had lost faith and purpose. They gently reminded her of her sworn promise. If she closed her eyes, she could hear their voices again. She was so near to them, now. Closer than she had been since the accident. Her expression remained neutral, but the next thrust of the shovel bit into the soil more deeply. She had planted these trees seven years earlier when she was just sixteen years old. She'd cared for them and nurtured them across the years, as they had cared for her, serving as her sounding board and confidants when she grew dejected or uncertain. The living cenotaph to her family, here in a hidden corner of the Great Memorial Forest, was the keeper of her secrets. It would not need to be for much longer. The wind shifted again and she could hear the voices of the other children, her brothers and sisters. They laughed and sang, which always made Ashal smile during the darkest times. Ashal looked towards the smallest tree in the grove, named in honor of her younger brother Ascal. He was always the first to joke, the first to tease his sister when she got into one of her intense moods. Branches shook and leaves whispered, a music knowable only to her. Koas: Don't be difficult, Ascal! You're always such a troublemaker, getting your branches tangled. Dotra and Jimberline never cause as much of a fuss. The other two smaller trees offered no immediate response. Ashal continued digging without pause, carrying on with her conversation. Koas: We've spoken about this before and you know why I have to go. This is everything we've hoped for. I've been assigned to the negiogation team as a junior diplomat. No one questioned it. Ambassador Niran chose me personally. The smallest tree in the grove fell silent. Ashal dug for a while longer, then stepped up and out of the void she had created, satisfied. They were ready for the saplings. Her people had few traditions that could be considered spiritual, but this ancient practice had grown with the Thama, much like the memorial trees themselves. New life born out of loss. It was the great cycle of all living systems and the Thama, more than anything else, respected the sanctity of life. She moved the first sapling into position, gently placing it where she should've been, among her brothers and sisters, reciting the old words for the eight time. Koas: For those that slumber, let these leaves give shade. For those that hunger, let these branches bear fruit. For those that suffer, let this sapling take root and grow tall. May new life blossom here as it withers elsewhere. This is the cycle. She spoke the tree's name aloud, then pressed the soil down with bare hands. Her meticulously precise facade didn't waiver, but a tear escaped from her eye and fell upon the soil. The second sapling was moved into position, low and away from the family of trees. Ashal tried to repeat the litany without emotion creeping in, only the subtlest notes of cold rage tinging her words. Koas: For those that slumber, let these leaves give shade. For those that hunger, let these branches bear fruit. For those that suffer...::Ashal looked back towards her family and felt their eyes upon her. This was her final gift.:: Let this sapling take root and grow tall. May new life blossom here as it withers elsewhere. This is the cycle. She spoke the tree's name aloud with venom enough to wilt the nearby grass. It was the first time a Nascaik had ever been honored with a tree in the Great Forest, but Ashal believed strongly in the tradition. New life born out of loss. Something to blossom while something else withered. She pressed the soil into place and turned to face her family one final time. Their voices had grown still but she could feel their warm embrace. She longed to be with them, and looked lovingly at the sapling. Koas: You're home now, little Ashal. Grow strong and tall for me, here with your family. I have to go now but it will be fine. This is the cycle. The breeze picked up once again, rustling and whispering in the branches around them. As she changed out of her soiled work clothes and into something more befitting a junior diplomat, Ashal heard the voices of her parents and her siblings. She heard them calling out to her, demanding justice. They didn't wish to burden her so, but she was all that remained. It had to be her. By the time she stepped out of the Memorial Forest for the very last time, Ashal Koas had renewed her resolve. She would see her plan through to the very end, as she had promised all those years ago. She felt a calm elation as she returned to her offices, just one junior bureaucrat among many returning from midday break. She imagined the grove and smiled. Something wonderful would blossom there. While something else withered. [End] ==================================== Ashal Koas Junior Assistant to the Ambassador Thama Scientific Sovereignty V239509GT0

This was beautifully written! 😍 -- (( Cargo Management Unit 27-Alpha, In orbit of Vulcan)) Yogan’s thickly gloved hands tapped side-by-side control panels; the left one monitored his flight, the right one dispensed the cargo. There were dozens of starships, shuttlecraft, and CMUs darting in all directions in orbit of Vulcan, but Yogan had his sights on only one–the Nova-class USS Resolution, which lay dead ahead. Although he felt a bit cramped into the small craft–they weren’t exactly made with people of his stature in mind–it was an exhilarating opportunity he daren’t miss. Vulcan Space Central had given him the approval, even lent him a pressure suit, and despite the hustle and bustle of the ships in orbit, he felt awash in the peace and solitude of unaccompanied spaceflight. The workbee, as it was nicknamed, was easy to pilot. This craft had been a mainstay of orbital spacedocks and starships alike for over a century, the design time-tested and infinitely modifiable to a range of needs and functions. As he manoeuvred the bee along Resolution’s underbelly, he took advantage of its large forward windows to inspect the starship’s ventral exterior. It was a seldom-seen point of view, and from here, she looked like a different ship altogether. Yalu: Computer, play something by The Butter Churns. A selection from one of the Novan band’s older albums played over the comm system in his pressure suit, and he bopped his head along to the uptempo rhythm. The simple chords and uncomplicated lyrics made him nostalgic for the simple, uncomplicated times of his youth. (( Flashback – Rytela Flight School, Trill – 2377 )) Flight Instructor: You have control. Yogan Verso: I have control. Yogan dared not take his hands off the panel, even to mop the beads of sweat that were starting to run down his temples. He’d practiced in the simulator, but this was for real. He was actually piloting a spacecraft… in space! Flight Instructor: Change course, bearing 215 mark 090. Speed, 500 kph. Then take us out past the first signal buoy. Yogan Verso: Acknowledged. Yogan’s fingers pinched and pulled along the X-Y translation pad to enter the new course. The craft was small and light–with only manoeuvring thrusters and sluggish inertial dampers. It lurched toward the new heading and Yogan felt the movement in the pit of his stomach and the back of his neck at the same time. He braced himself, but resisted the urge to close his eyes. He was fine, everything was fine. He felt his flight instructor’s hand land on his shoulder from behind in a reassuring clap. Flight Instructor: You’re doing good, Son. Yogan nodded. The situation was stressful, but he felt comfortable in his mastery of the skills. He’d been preparing for this since his first day of flight lessons four years ago, and it was everything he could have possibly hoped for. His parents were skeptical at first, but the young Yogan Verso had demonstrated he took the training seriously. It was his first real passion. Instead of playing hoverball with his classmates, Yogan sat in the library reading suborbital flight manuals. Instead of dating or going to parties, he volunteered at the hangar, absorbing every bit of expertise he could glean from the pilots who worked there. Having established a reputation for declining invitations to social outings, his classmates started calling him “No-gan.” It hadn’t bothered him. He even wore it like a badge of honour, but as “No-gan” grew into an adolescent, his parents started encouraging him to branch out and explore other interests. “When you’re older, you’ll wish you had done more when you had the chance,” they told him. “You’re going to need to be more well-rounded if you want to be accepted into the Initiate Program,” they said, referencing his interest in becoming Joined someday. That much, at least, was true, and as a teenager, Yogan learned to strike a better balance between his passions and the many other activities on offer to someone his age. Single mindedness, as it turned out, wasn’t as necessary as he had thought. There was room in his brain, and in his life, for a range of interests. Becoming the youngest ever qualified pilot on Trill would have been incredible, but his parents were right; the opportunity cost of such an extraordinary achievement would have been too high. Someday, if he were lucky enough to become a candidate for Joining, there would be more to him as a host than simply a pigeonholed “flyboy.” As the small craft approached the signal buoy, its red light changed to green, signifying that Yogan had successfully passed the first checkpoint. Only seventeen more to go. (( End Flashback )) With a bit of a flourish, Yogan flew the workbee close along Resolution’s hull, then arced it widely around the saucer section. He never tired of this. Having arrived at his destination near the bridge module, Yogan rolled the workbee 180 degrees so that Resolution’s dorsal hull was directly above him. He could clearly see the damage she’d sustained during the last mission. Most notably, the paint was scraped off in dozens of places, likely due to the asteroid impacts they sustained while escaping from the Sau. One of them must have skipped along the hull like a rock on a pond; its damage was visible along a ten-metre arc of intermittent pits and pocks. Unfortunately, it had taken the tail off of the ‘R’ in the ship’s name, giving the impression that she was called U.S.S. Pesolution. It was only cosmetic–there seemed to be no structural damage–but it wouldn’t do for the ship to return to the Borderlands looking all raggedy. Besides, he was keeping the promise he’d made however-many-hundreds-of-thousands of years in the future: if they made it out alive, he’d volunteer for a shift on repainting detail. His right hand activated the program to align the workbee against the hull and dispense the right amount of paint in the right location. As it executed, the graceful Nova-class ship rolled back out of sight, and with The Butter Churns as his only company, Yogan once again turned his attention toward the stars and the blackness of space. Lieutenant JG Yogan Yalu Helm Officer USS Resolution NCC-78145

((Streets of Vulcana Regar )) The hovercar made its way down the quiet streets of Vulcana Regar, the slight desert breeze weaving its way between the old stone buildings and occasional public gardens. Meidra watched the passing scenery with a jaded eye; the cultivated order that so impressed the tourists hid a darker side. And she was heading to one of the darkest. Saran didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t employed to make small talk. She studied the back of his head, wondering how many family secrets he had absorbed into his stoic demeanor over the decades. Before she could make a flippant remark, they we’re heading away from the industrial area and quickly speeding towards her family estate, and her thoughts turned to her family. She wasn’t going to stay long, she promised herself this for what seemed the hundredth time. She’d meant what she’d said to Genkos, she was going to pay respects to her family, then leave at the earliest possible time. And if anyone tried to stop her, it would not end well for them. The closer she was to the estate, the more her growing headache multiplied. It was just stress, she told herself, remembering that she hadn’t had pain like this since her kahs wan, something she did not want to think about. She thought back to the last time she’d been at the estate after being gone for close to thirty years. She’d thought that they’d settle in and start over as a family . Her brother had never fully healed from his kahs wan injuries, but he could walk, and was learning how to fight again. Their reunion had been bittersweet. Then she’d left again. This time it had only been five years, but it still seemed like yesterday that she’d been chosen to be the bonded mate of a psychopath just to build up her grandfather’s empire. Klomak Karik-es loomed large in the distance, an ancient fortress of stone and iron. Her great, great grandfather had built the compound with his four brothers. The cold grey building was just as imposing as she remembered. She could almost imagine seeing herself riding the horse like jarels her uncle raised, shouting her joy to be racing the river that stretched across the clan’s land. ((Klomak Karik-es (Fortress of Strength) Outskirts of Vulcana Regar, Vulcan)) The hovercar veered into a large courtyard, stopping in front of the large bronze doors leading inside the main residence. Meidra got out of the craft, nodding slightly to Saran, and allowed the guard on duty to open the entrance to her childhood angst. She didn’t make eye contact with the guard, so focused as she was on the door several feet ahead of her, through the formal entryway. As she approached her grandfather’s office, she could feel her mother on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open and walked through to see Lenore Sirin, famed writer and historian standing at the window, seemingly unaware of her eldest daughter’s presence. Lenore: ::without turning around:: I’m surprised you showed up. Sirin: My brother invited me. It would be illogical not to visit….him. Lenore turned away from the window, green eyes staring in silent appraisal. Her long auburn hair was loose around her face, and her expression impossible to read if one did not know her. Meidra walked the rest of the way into the room, casually glancing around to check for guards that may have instructions to keep her at the estate. Sirin: I was hoping to see Salan, is he here? Her words, spoken so casually, were a warning. If this was set up to be some sort of trouble, Meidra would be ready to show how much self defense skill she possessed. She still wasn’t sensing her grandfather, yet she was not above thinking he was nearby, waiting. Lenore: He is with your grandfather on business. Come, sit. It was not a request, but Meidra wanted to know what her mother was up to, so she sat on of the ornate chairs, not surprised when a servant appeared with a tea tray and fresh fruit. She ignored it to stare at her mother. Sirin: ::Formally:: I come to pay respects. She would not use the Vulcan greeting. Her mother was not Vulcan. But she would show her basic civility. Lenore laughed, a slightly bitter sound. Lenore: You speak of respect as though you know what it is. Five years Meidra. Sirin: We keep in contact. I call you when I can. I have not disrespected you as you have done to me, Mother. When you chose to allow your own daughter to be sold to the highest bidder. There. It had only taken five minutes to reopen a wound five years in the making. Lenore glared, her posture rigid, her eyes cold. Meidra could feel something stirring in her mind, but whether it was a memory, or simply being near her mother again was up for debate. Lenore: That is not what happened. You were finally being accepted into the clan, worthy of being the bondmate of someone of a high ranking family. And you threw it away to play soldier just to prove that you were above it all. Sirin: I was thrown at a disgusting boy to build an alliance with a family known for their cruelty. You sat by and let it happen. Then you told me never to come home if I escaped. Her mother’s hand balled into a fist, deep emotions fighting for dominance on her still youthful face. Her other hand slammed down the teacup she’d been holding, shattering it on the pristine table in front of them. Wordlessly, servants came in and cleaned the mess, ignoring the two females glaring at each other. In moments, they had left and Meidra was once again alone with the woman who should have been there for her during her struggles fitting in with the clan. Lenore: I did what I could to protect you. But you ran away like a child. Out of your bedroom window before anyone could discuss the situation. Meidra felt the repressed anger building inside of her. This is what her family did, bringing up her past errors to remind her of her failings. She drew a harsh breath; what mother would not see how much that hurt? She could still feel Somek’s hands around her throat as he pushed her towards her bed. The hot breath in her ear telling her how he owned her now. She took an unsteady breath and met her mother’s accusing eyes. Sirin: He was going to hurt me Mother. What is there to discuss? You were going to let him….he almost…. She could not get the words out. Lenore: There was a plan in place. He was going to be our….. Her voice trailed off and Meidra’s headache grew. One of the gardeners came in and whispered into Lenore’s ear. She looked disgusted, but quickly schooled her features. Lenore: You’ll have to excuse me. One of our sehlats have gotten into the vegetable garden and destroyed much of the redspice. I need to assess the damage. She didn’t wait to see if Meidra cared, and rushed out through the door leading outside, locking it behind her. Meidra wandered the office, looking for something to treat her headache. Opening one of the drawers in her grandfather’s desk, she saw a PADD that hadn’t been shut off. Wryly reaching for it, she saw her name on the screen. Glancing outside and not seeing her mother returning, she opened the file and began to read. TBC Lt JG Meidra Sirin Counseling officer USS Resolution R239707MS0

"I'm sorry, were you addressing me? Because your authority is not recognised in Fort Kick [...]!"

(( Park Control Center - First Aid Room, Asteroid Trueno, Bratax System)) Ayiana’s group were raiding a first aid station to mend Bavo’s and Ayiana’s wounds; the former from an exploding control panel, and the latter from punching a dinosaur in the face. If it had been a competition for the most badassery, Ayiana figured she’d won. Inside the room, they found it a complete mess - broken glass, upturned equipment, spilled medicine bottles - it looked less like it had been ransacked and more like a stampede ran through it. Or a pack of dinosaurs, like the pair of Dilophosaurus eyeing them from across the room. How they got inside the building after evading them at the front door, Ayiana didn’t know, but that point was moot right now. The pair, one of them standing on top of a counter and the other stalking on the ground, eyed the group hungrily. The group slowly backed away, doing a delicate dance of motion in the room opposite the dinosaurs. They stepped one way; the pair of dinosaurs stepped the other way. The lead Dilophosaur was still on the counter, while its packmate was inching closer. At one point, it stepped into a messy pile of oblong pills scattered on the ground. Ayiana noticed the small feet of the dinosaur momentarily wobble on the uneven and slippery surface. Behind her, Ayiana was bracing against the transparent aluminum of an isolation cell. Quickly, an idea formed. Sevo: :: Whispering. :: I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it. We need that one to charge. Ayiana pointed at the stalking one and nodded her head back at the isolation room. Subtly, she slowly pulled open the door. With her free hand, she gestured for the group to move farther aside. Duyzer: Commander?! :: His mouth opened in shock or surprise. :: Unexpectedly, Duyzer carefully approached Ayiana and slowly crouched down near some equipment. Ayiana shined the flashlight in the eyes of the Dilophosaurus stalking on the ground to get its attention. It [...]ed its head, staring straight at her, with a clear shot across the room between the dinosaur and Ayiana. Glancing at the floor, it was covered in spilled pills and tools. M’ira: Whatever you are doing - I hope it works. These animals will tear us apart in seconds if you... Bavo: Are you even sure that’ll hold them? ::Miri whispered loudly as Sevo was already putting her plan in motion:: Sevo: :: Whispering to Bavo.:: Nope, but it’s worth a shot. :: She turned her attention to the closer dinosaur and yelled. :: Hey, ugly! Over here! :: She waved her arms back and forth furiously. Moments later, the dinosaur screeched and charged. :: oO Oh, this was a bad idea! Oo Taking the bait, the dinosaur screeched and charged as best it could through the room, but it had trouble slipping and sliding among pills strewn along the floor. Though this was her plan, it terrified Ayiana; she could see the bloodlust in the animal’s eyes as it charged her. She waited until it was close enough, and when it would be moving too fast to regain its balance, she would open the door. Except that damn Denobulan had other ideas, jumping in front of Ayiana heroically, with a pair of cables in his hands. He quickly touched both ends to the creature, and watched it spasm and lose balance, knocking into Duyzer and both falling to the floor. Three people were now on the scoreboard for badassery. M'ira rushed forward, grabbing Duyzer’s arms to help him get back onto his feet quickly. The partner of the not so lucky creature let out a screech of its own before making its way in their direction quickly. Sevo: Dammit, Commander! You could have been killed! Duyzer: I don’t care- we’re gonna run. Somewhere across the room, the squeak of a cart was heard. Eyeing over, Bavo had pushed it into the hallway to hopefully delay the other dino. Bavo: M’ira help! With a push from both women, the cart surged past Ayiana and Duyzer. Bavo quickly took off back towards the entry door, with the rest following; soon back in the empty lobby. Duyzer: Where do we go?! Bavo: Weapons? Control centre command? Back to the petting zoo? Sevo: Weapons! We can't keep using fists and fire against these things! M'ira: Weapons! Right! The Warden glanced back into the medbay, Ayiana’s eyes following. She could see the unconscious Dilophosaurus still on the ground where Duyzer had shocked it, but the other one was gone - on the prowl. As they wandered down another hallway, Ayiana wondered where it went, only to get a quick answer. It burst out in front of them from a doorway ahead of them. Bavo ran into a nearby doorway, everyone else following. It turned out to be a cafeteria. In fact, there were multiple doors from the hallway leading into it, so they were by no means safe from the dino. Like the medbay before, utensils, food, trays, plates and other accoutrements were scattered everywhere, some meals even half-eaten. It seemed whoever was in here left in a hurry when things went south. Bavo: Quick hide! Sevo: Where?! Duyzer/M’ira: response In response, Bavo jumped over a countertop and ducked behind it. With a shrug, Ayiana followed. Bavo: If we could just figure out a way to… Bavo suddenly covered her mouth to silence herself. Peering around the edge, Ayiana saw why: the dinosaur burst in and stopped quickly, looking around for its prey. Another had followed it in; whether it was the shocked one from the medbay or yet another of its packmates was impossible to tell. Duyzer: response Ayiana glanced at her group and noticed someone missing. Sevo: Where’s M’ira?! She peeked back out again and saw the Caitian prone under a table, eyeing them from across the room. Unfortunately, the two Dilophosauruses had moved into the center of the room, right between them and M’ira. She was trapped. Ayiana eyed the Caitian for a moment; she could see a sense of calm and finality in the woman’s eyes. A split second before M’ira stood up, Ayiana tried to yell to stop, but it was too late. M’ira jumped up onto the table she hid under and slammed her hands down hard, the sound echoing around the room. The two dinosaurs quickly turned their heads. With a scream louder than Ayiana thought possible from the woman, M’ira roared like a lion at the pair as she took off towards the hallway. Returning the roar, the dinos chased after the warden out of the room and out of sight. There was a silent pause from the three behind the counter after what they just witnessed. Sevo: I… :: She was utterly speechless. :: Bavo/Duyzer: Response Sevo: Sh-she distracted them for us. You think she’ll get away? Bavo/Duyzer: Response Sevo: No, we need to get to either the security unit or command center and get to the bottom of what’s happening, sir. M’ira sacrificed herself so we could continue. Gods willing, she survived. Bavo/Duyzer: Response It turned out that Warden M’ira had been the most badass of them all. ---------------------------- Lt. Commander Ayiana Sevo Mission Specialist U.S.S. Gorkon Image Collective Facilitator Wiki Ops Advanced Starship Design Bureau V239109AS0 ----------------------------

A huge congratulations to all of the winners! Every single one of you deserves the award! Proud of you all!

Part I ((Main Engineering - USS Gorkon)) Whittaker: You’re joined? The Human seemed a bit surprised by the statement, but Mikeja wasn’t offended. There were no outside indications on a Trill whether they were joined or not. For a long time, many people outside of Trill society had no knowledge of the symbiotic nature between the symbiont and host. Mikeja simply nodded at the question. Lan: Correct. I am the second host of the Lan symbiont. Mikeja allowed himself to inject some pride into the statement. Joining had been both a boon to his life, but was incredibly painful at the same time; especially considering the close relationship he had with Vessa. It had been over five years since the incident and he was still coming to grips with the integration of his two lives. Whittaker: Then you must be quite the Officer. ::he said, deliberately turning his attention back to the engineer.:: And it certainly goes a long way to explaining your assignment to Gorkon. The Ensign thought about that before responding. He would certainly consider himself competent when it came to his knowledge as an Engineer. But to think the fleet placed him on a ship of the line because he was joined seemed unwarranted. He was, after all, only the second host of Lan and his traumatic background felt like more of a hindrance than helpful. Lan: ::smiling, but shaking his head:: I appreciate that Captain, but it wasn’t really an option at the time. Joining with Lan was… unorthodox, shall we say. The Trill Engineer took another sip of the coffee, wondering if he would open up further to Captain Whittaker. He supposed it would depend on what the next question was. Whittaker: Why was that? There was a slight pause. The Captain seemed to realize the potential [...] pas and moved to correct it immediately. Whittaker: Not that I mean to pry, Ensign. You don’t have to divulge the details if you don’t wish to. Lan: ::putting up a hand:: That’s quite alright Captain. I’ve probably talked to over a dozen counselors about it over the years. I suppose you have the right to know, especially if we’re going to be working together in some capacity. Whittaker made a “carry on” gesture. In turn, Mikeja motioned to the seats surrounding the MSD and the two men sat. He didn’t think of the [...] pas he had also made at that moment as the two men seemed to be having a more casual conversation. Mikeja wasn’t even technically on duty for a little while longer. Lan: It was… an accident. About five years ago. We, that is Doctor Lan and I, were on our way to Earth. There was an explosion and Doctor Lan was injured… quite badly. A recollection of extreme pain came careening through Mikeja when he mentioned the incident. He’d learned to keep his composure when discussing it, but that had taken some time and effort. Lan: I was the only unjoined Trill on the ship we were on, and the symbiont wouldn’t have survived long enough to make it home. So… it was the only logical choice… Like Whittaker had done before, Mikeja let the thought linger, figuring the outcome would be obvious to the Human. The Captain responded first with a slow nod, apparently coming to an understanding. Whittaker: … was for you to undergo joining. ::he said, completing the man’s sentence.:: I understand that it can be a difficult experience for both host and symbiont when a joining is unplanned? Mikeja lingered on the thought… knowing that what the Captain had said was quite the understatement. (( Flashback: Medical Bay - SS Camtalla )) A bright light burned through Mikeja’s still closed eyes as he came back into consciousness. Things felt fuzzy and disjointed at first. He then began to hear voices and the beeping of computer consoles. One of the beeping noises sounded like a heart rate monitor. Voice 1: He’s coming around. Things started to make more sense and the young Trill slowly tried to open his eyes. The light was still there; it was someone flashing a pen light into Mikeja’s eyes. He heard himself let out a groan and then felt some soreness on his arms. His head began to throb in pain as the pen light was moved to his other eye. He couldn’t quite make out the faces of those around him. Voice 2: Vitals? Voice 1: Stable. Pupils aren’t dilated. Mikeja didn’t recognize the voices, but they were both feminine. As the pen light was moved, his eyes began to adjust to the environment. With a slight look around, Mikeja realized he was in a medical center. It looked used and fairly spartan, which meant he was probably still on the Camtalla. oO Wha… why am I…? Oo It all started coming back to him. The explosion. He tried to sit up, but the flash of pain in his head made him think twice. He then looked around again and saw two women hovering above him. Mikeja figured these were the Camtalla’s medical personnel. Woman 2: Whoa now, try not to move too fast Mr. Norven. Regarding the woman, Mikeja saw she was apparently human. Dark hair in a bob style cut and piercing green eyes were the two things he noticed immediately. The other woman was Andorian, with longer white hair and her antennae pointed upwards. Mikeja winced again as he made a move to a seated position, this time far more slowly. He felt the support of both women as he finally was upright. Mikeja Norven: What… what happened? Woman 2: An EPS relay exploded in Main Engineering. You were brought to the medbay. The Trill remembered what happened, and it dawned on him that Doctor Lan had also been there. He looked to the human medical officer with a worried expression. Norven: Doctor Lan? Is she alright? The Human looked over to the Andorian, unable to hide her own worry. She looked back to Mikeja with the same expression. The Trill’s heart began to sink, fearing the worst. Woman 2: She’s alive, but I’m afraid her injuries are very severe. The Captain has set course back to Trill, but… She hesitated. Mikeja immediately figured the explosion had damaged the warp drive and they were going far slower than they could be. He then had another realization. Norven: The symbiont? Part II (( Flashback: Medical Bay - SS Camtalla )) Norven: The symbiont? Woman 1: Please sir, you need to rest. Mikeja brushed away the hand the Andorian woman was trying to put on his shoulder to calm him down. He felt sadness, anger and fear all at once. He needed answers, not reassurances. Norven: ::raising his voice:: Tell me! The two women glanced at each other again. The human woman looked back to the Trill again, even more sad this time. Woman 2: Her isoboramine levels are dropping fast. Unless we can make it back to Trill in a few hours… Mikeja held up a hand. He’d heard enough and mustered the strength to swing his legs over the biobed and fully sit up. Norven: I need to speak with Doctor Lan. Is she conscious? Woman 2: I don’t believe that’s the best idea… Norven: ::once again holding up his hand:: Spare me that ma'am, but right now the well being of the symbiont is most important. The Doctor would agree with me. ::more angrily:: Where is she? I must speak to her before it’s too late. With a sigh and look of defeat, she gestured for the Trill to follow her. Mikeja got to his feet, ignoring the pain and dizziness. He followed the woman a few feet to a biobed across the room. Then he saw her. Lan was covered in a silver blanket, with only her head and bare shoulders exposed. As he walked closer, he saw the plasma burns on her face. Her gray hair was tattered and burned away at places. Cortical monitors had been placed on her temples and her breathing was very shallow. Mikeja felt a pang of fear rush down his spine and settle in his stomach before turning to the medical officer. Norven: How long does she have? Before the Human medical officer could respond, Mikeja heard a change in his mentor’s breathing, almost like a whisper. Looking back down, he saw her eyes were half-open. She looked right at the younger Trill and her lips began to move. Lan: ::whispering:: Mister Norven… Mikeja leaned in closer to the woman he’d known for over four years. He tried to put on a reassuring grin, but the look in his eyes betrayed him. Norven: Doctor. I’m here. It took a moment for the older Trill to compose herself. She finally was able to speak. Lan: Am I…? A single tear ran down Mikeja’a face. She looked so helpless and Mikeja knew there was nothing he could do to save her. Another tear fell as Lan tried to smile her own reassurance. Lan: It’s alright. :pause:: We must save the symbiont. He’d rarely lied to Vessa before, and he knew now wasn’t the time. Like all Trill who had been joined or even trained to be joined, Mikeja knew the symbiont’s well being was paramount. But that would be difficult considering the circumstances. Norven: I’m sorry Doctor, but we won’t make it home in time... Vessa shook her head with all of the strength she could muster, but it was still the slightest of movements. Her eyes never left the gaze of her young assistant. Lan: Then it must be you, Mikeja. It is the only way. Mikeja felt his mouth open slightly. He was taken aback at the thought. He then shook his own head, far more forcefully. Incredulousness replaced the sadness, but only slightly. Norven: That’s… I mean… I can’t. I wasn’t chosen. Vessa was able to move her arm from under the blanket and found one of Mikeja’s hands. She held it and squeezed with determination. Lan: I trust you, young man. Tears began welling in both of their eyes now. Lan: We will meet again. I’m… so… Her eyes closed and the grip from her hand softened. Mikeja looked up at the biomonitor. Vessa’s isoboramine levels were at fifty percent. Panic and determination took over and the Trill released his hand from Vessa’s and turned back to the medical officer with pursed lips before speaking. Norven: Can you transplant the symbiont? The woman hesitated before speaking. Woman 2: I… I mean I think so… but I’ve never... Once again, Mikeja held up a hand to stop her. Norven: Then do it. ::pointing to the biomonitor without looking:: If her isobormaine levels drop below forty percent then we won’t be able to save anything. Woman: But, Mister Norven… Norven: ::angrier:: We don’t have time for a discussion, Miss…? Even in the heat of desperation, Mikeja needed to know the name of the person he was dealing with. Able: Doctor… Doctor Tessa Able. A grin showed across his face, cutting through the anger and sadness. He let his breath out from his nose; some of the anger he'd felt melting away in the moment. Norven: Well, it seems fate has a sense of humor today Doctor Able. ::gesturing past her into the room:: Shall we? A sigh came pouring out of the woman and she turned to the Andorian. Able: Assema, get him prepped for surgery. Local anesthetic. He needs to be conscious for the procedure. (( Ten Minutes Later )) Now dressed in surgical outfits, the two medical personnel hovered over Mikeja. The hum of the sterilization field surrounded them all. He looked over to his left and saw Vessa. Her eyes were open and she smiled at him, something that he’d rarely had the privilege to see from his teacher and friend. Mikeja smiled back. The Andorian nurse was handed the teardrop-shaped symbiont while Able used a laser scalpel to cut into Mikeja’s abdomen, exposing the pouch all Trill had. Mikeja saw Vessa’s eyes go lifeless. Able: Ok, let’s go. Give it to me. The nurse wordlessly handed the worm-like creature to the Doctor and she gently maneuvered it into the male Trill’s pouch. At about halfway in, the symbiont moved on its own, settling into place. In an instant, Mikeja felt a rush of emotions. He took a deep breath as if he had just come to the surface from being held underwater for hours. With tightly closed eyes now, tears fell down his face. Mikeja Lan: ::aloud:: I’m… so… proud... (( Present Day: Main Engineering - USS Gorkon)) Whittaker: I understand that it can be a difficult experience for both host and symbiont when a joining is unplanned? Mikeja just smiled and nodded once again. Lan: Yes Captain. Quite a bit. Whittaker: And how have you fared since being joined? The Trill took another sip of the raktajino and contemplated how to answer the question. Lan: Oh… I just take it one day at a time I suppose. A flurry of activity began happening around Main Engineering. More officers and crewmen were entering and some were beginning to leave. Mikeja queried the computer for the current time and saw the morning shift was set to begin in a few minutes. He looked back to goateed man sitting next to him. Lan: Looks like we’re about to get busy, Captain. Maybe next time I won’t hog the conversation so much. Whittaker: Response The Trill smiled and followed the Captain’s lead as they both stood. Mikeja looked around and spied the replicator. He downed the remains of the bittersweet beverage and then once again regarded the superior officer. Lan: I’m going to get rid of this ::holding up the mug:: before things get too busy. Would you care for something while I’m over at the replicator Captain? Whittaker: Response ------ Ensign Mikeja Lan Engineering Officer USS Gorkon G239702ML0

I would have put "The Brightest Star" in between the end of Enterprise and TOS: The Cage since it clearly takes place a couple of decades before the latter. In my head canon, "Runaway" takes place during the events of Disco's Season 1 finale- after Michael's record is expunged BUT before they depart for Vulcan to pick up whoever it was that was going to assume command. The Escape Artist is a little difficult to place because there is no indication of when it takes place but "Calypso" should clearly be the LAST thing to watch if you're watching the franchise in chronological order since it takes place about 1000 years after Disco's Second Season.

Congratulations to everyone who won an award in this category! I’m humbled and proud to be amongst such talented and incredible human beings. Thank you for helping to make this glorious community a beacon of creativity and talent! xxx

I approve! *tounge pop*

Congratulations to all my fellow award winners. You are all amazing and beautiful people inside and out and everybody deserves their awards! I’m especially proud of @Luna Walker who has been here a staggering 15 years and who never fails to find a way to give Theo a headache (in the best possible way, obviously). Words can’t quite describe how proud I am of the ever wonderful, ever brilliant @Jarred Thoran for his tireless devotion to not just Columbia, but to the entire fleet. You’re an example and an inspiration to just about everywhere and you are going to be an incredible Captain one day. Thank you for facilitating this year’s award ceremony. You are utterly, utterly marvellous and a fabulous human being! Also- I’m so proud of @Groznin Smith, who is quite simply one of the loveliest people I’ve met through this fleet and whose enthusiasm for our game brings people to us from far and wide. @Sal Taybrim- you make this fleet so much brighter by being everyone’s champion. I was fortunately to write for you for two years and I can attest to how bright you shine, how supportive you are and how much of a true friend you are to us all. You’re one in a billion! @Kali Nicholotti- I never knew you were the brains behind the Image Collective but thank you for giving the members of the team another opportunity to showcase their amazing talents and for being an icon to many in this fleet x I’d also like to say thank you humbly for the Xalor Clan Xifilis Award. Autism can be debilitating for me at time but this fleet gives me a reason to keep going when times are tough. I’m infinitely grateful to be here with you all. 😻 PS: @Roshanara Rahman, DM about franchising that coffee shop to someone on Columbia...... or getting me a transfer to Veritas!

Congratulations to everybody who won a General Award this year!!!!

Discovery's second season was by far and away a massive improvement over Season 1 for me (which in retrospect is nigh-unwatchable). By now I think that it is clear that Season 1 was a rush job and hastily slapped together after Bryan Fuller was fired by CBS. It's my opinion that he had a game plan for the start of the season but NOT the end of the season, which is why plot lines like Ash Tyler went absolutely nowhere and why the war took a backseat for the second half of the series before petering out with a whimper. Add in to that the alleged abuse that the two show runners directed at the writer's room. The cast simply had to make the best out of a very bad situation. Unfortunately- it was a poor effort. So like I said, I found Season 2 extremely engaging. The producers and writers clearly listened to the fan feedback and it must have taken guts for them to admit even to themselves that they had faltered. I appreciate them trying to rectify their mistakes. We got to know the primary and secondary characters, the Klingons looked more like Klingons, the plot felt more like Star Trek than say Battlestar Galactica, they did away with the dystopian mood and they ended the series by giving us what we wanted: a new time period. I think my highlights of the season were Michelle Yeoh clearly having a blast as Emperor Georgiou (she was so much fun this time around), Captain Pike, Number One unleashing all the sass in the finale, Michael and Saru's bond being brought the fore (Episode 4 made me cry like a baby), Sonequa Martin-Green really stepping up and delivering one heck of a performance all season long and the finale... whew the finale was an absolute tour de force. I was on the edge of the seat the entire time. The last time I enjoyed Star Trek so much was DS9's The Way Of The Warrior. It was incredible, to me. Of course there were niggles: after such a strong start to the series Tilly faded in to the background and eventually became a comic relief character. I've always loved Tilly (I relate to her so much) but she became actively annoying as soon as her mycelial plot wrapped up. On top of that, Ash's story went.... absolutely nowhere. Why they had to bring him back I have no idea and the baby plot line was.... yeah no. They strung out the search for Spock (no pun intended) for far too long and the Paul and Hugh melodrama was a drag (JUST GET BACK TOGETHER SO I CAN SHIP!). I'm excited for Season 3 (and for Picard!) and I pray that the ship is steadied now that the backroom drama has been sorted out.

OPPULENCE!

Theo has had a shave and picked out his most fabulous suit for this incredible occasion.

This was such a great read and it brought a huge to smile to my face. Kudos to you, Ensign Bollore!

((Hong Kong subdistrict, SB118, some time between Final Examination and reporting to the Columbia) When Gervan's friends steered him toward SB118's Hong Kong District, he began looking forward to the evening. Before going to the Academy, Gervan could count the number of times he had been to Earth on one hand (perhaps that was an exaggeration. But not by much). All his pre-Academy technical training had been off Earth, and even when he had been at the Starfleet Technical Services Academy, the only time he left Mars for Earth was on a two day visit to Rennes, mainly because his family back on Lemnos would have never forgiven him if he had failed to visit Bro Gozh ma Zadoù. The Academy had given Gervan a chance to see more of Earth, but even if Gervan had not had his academic obligations to the Academy, four years would not have been enough time to see all that was Earth. The place was huge, both in size and diversity. So when Gervan's friends told him they were going to SB118's Hong Kong District to celebrate the collective passing of their final examinations, Gervan was thinking they were going to the The Fragrant Lotus Tea House., the one place in that district he had heard of. Gervan had only a passing knowledge of Cantonese culture and cuisine, though there was a restaurant type called a cha chaan teng he had been told about that sounded interesting. Maybe this Tea House was one of those type of restaurants. Gervan didn't know, but he was looking forward to finding out. Instead, Gervan's friends took him to something called a malt shop and sock hop, which was supposed to be a duplication and/or reminiscent of mid-twentieth century North American culture. Gervan sighed when his friends excitedly showed him where they were going to be spending at least part of their evening, not only to celebrate their first assignments but also the successful publication of "Redeye Love," the holonovel the four of them had collaborated on. Gervan had first met Nilevaar, Ishilaon and Targigg in Application of Creative Design in Holodecks. The four had been assigned as a work group at the beginning of the term, to complete a holodeck novel that would incorporate everything that they would learn in the class. Gervan had internally groaned at the prospect, for several reasons. First, he had no imagination. Well, he had no imagination except when it came to solving technical problems. But when it came to artistic creativity? His limericks were appreciatively bawdy, but that was about it. Second, he was assigned to a team with an Orion, an Andorian and a Tellarite. If the four of them walked into a bar, it would be a classic joke. What could four such disparate beings have in common? As it turned out, all three of his teammates were aficionados of some aspect of mid-century North American culture. Nilevaar was a fan of something called the noir detective, or the detective nor, or something like that. Ishilaon enjoyed the dramatic presentation of the popular culture, Targigg the food of the era, and both had a disturbingly intimated knowledge of the transportation phenomena known as "muscular cars." And all three knew the music of the period. There is nothing quite like hearing an Andorian and a Tellarite singing "Greased Lightning." Gervan, on the other hand, had grown up on a colony that had been "lost" to the rest of humanity for two centuries, and even though Lemnos had "rejoined" the Federation before his birth, Earth culture was just as exotic to the humans of Lemnos as the culture of any other Federation member. The only ancient pop culture icon that Gervan knew was the protagonist of a late twentieth-century entertainment series who modified available items into unique configuration to solve dilemmas in a nonviolent manner. And he only knew that individual cause his Vulcan mentor had introduced him to it. Apparently, that particular ancient Earth entertainment series had a "cult" following on Vulcan. So the rest of the team had wanted to do a holonovel set in their favorite Earth era. Except none could agree on exactly what should be in it. And they expected Gervan to be the "tiebreaker," even though he knew absolutely nothing about that time period. And thus Redeye Love was born. The holodeck novel starts with the playable protagonist driving a muscle car across a seemingly endless desert highway with music blaring from the speakers(there were two modes of driving, one realistic, the other not). The sun has just set, and the protagonist was required to retrieve someone at the airport, who was arriving at dawn. But before the protagonist could do so, they must recover a stolen statuette highly valued by the arriving passenger. This required the protagonist to solve a minor mystery, and create a minor device, in each chapter, that culminated in building a major device and then using it to solve a major mystery in the final chapter. Redeye Love barely had consistent internal logic, with one chapter being in Los Angeles, then Malibu Beach the next. But Gervan did manage to incorporate all the diverse facets his new found friends loved about the era, which made them more enthusiastic about working on the project, which in turned made sure the technical aspects of their holonovel was beyond reproach. And since that was what the group was being primarily graded on, that was good enough for Gervan. Who knew that people would actually like the thing? Or that one of their fellow cadets had an uncle who was a publicist? So with a little minor tweaking, Redeye Love was becoming a popular sensation just about the time the four cadets had gotten their first pip and their first assignment. So the other three Ensigns had decided to start the evening in a restaurant that celebrated their favorite era. One that didn't even serve beer, Gervan sadly noted. Thankfully, they would only be starting the night there. ---- Ensign Gervan Bollore Engineering Officer USS Colombia C239605GB0

((The Look Outt - Deck 10 - USS Columbia)) :: Rune sat in her usual seat in the Look Outt, close to the window facing the door so she could see who came and went. Krystyan sat in a booster seat beside her shoveling cereal into his mouth by the handful. She wasn’t sure where Na’Toth had gotten off to and she really didn’t care. The Verillian was good with her son but still managed to get on her nerves rather quickly and she wasn’t in the mood for him. :: :: She took a sip of her Masala Chai tea and continued to read the reports on her PADD. She had been flabbergasted when she got the notification that T’Lea was being transferred to Columbia. She had mixed emotions about serving with the crazy Romu-Vulc again. According to the reports, much had changed since the last time they had spoken. :: :: Rune leaned forward with one hand cradling her forehead. She took a deep breath and released it. T’Lea’s mother had been murdered. Her throat tightened slightly as she read the details. Ravius wasn’t what she would consider a good person but she wasn’t entirely bad either. She had helped Rune find out information of a personal nature and for that, she had agreed to do certain things in return, mainly not kill T’Lea… as if she would. :: :: There was also mention that T’Sara was gone, though she couldn’t find any information about where she had gone or the circumstances. :: Krystyan: Toth! Toth! :: The sudden outburst caused Rune to drop the PADD and sit up straighter. She rolled her eyes the moment she saw the Verillian ‘waddling’ toward their table. Krystyan was kicking his feet, one of which was kicking Rune in the shin. After the third time, she grabbed his foot beneath the table and held it in place. :: :: N’Toth scruffed Krystyan’s curly blond hair as he sat down. At the same time, he pushed a PADD toward Rune. She glanced down at the PADD and then back up at the blue faced annoyance. :: Jolara: What is that? N’Toth: ::grinning around the horns protruding from his face:: It’s what’s called a PADD. You know, Personal Access Display Device. Jolara: ::sucking in a breath:: I know that. What is it you want me to look at? N’Toth: It’s your itinerary for shore leave planetside. I took the liberty of planning your R&R since you were obviously not going to do it. :: She pushed the PADD back across the table without looking at the contents. :: Jolara: Not interested. N’Toth: You have to. All work and no play is making you… ::waving his hand:: meh. :: Rune [...]ed her head to the side as her brows grew together. :: Jolara: Meh? What is meh? N’Toth: Dull, grumpy… among other things… Worse than usual. ::He picked up the PADD and activated it. Turning it around so she could see the screen, he scrolled through photos and local information.:: There’s skiing… or rather the Losarian form of skiing, ice skating, sledding. ::He grinned and looked at Krystyan who was leaning as far over as possible to see the pictures.:: He would love sledding I bet. Krystyan: YA! Wan go swedding. Jolara: No. It is too cold. Krystyan: Wan go swedding! Wan go swedding! N’Toth: Come on. It’ll be fun and good for both of you to get some fresh air. ::Pointing at the PADD.:: Or you could go hiking. I know you like hiking. Jolara: I like hiking… ::leaning over:: when it is WARM. I do not like cold. It hurts. :: Her jaw clenched. She had been looking forward to going planetside for some sun and fresh air. But that was before she knew the entire planet was freezing. Not all Al-Leyans were adverse to cooler temperatures but the majority were and for once Rune was among the majority. :: Krystyan: ::louder and slapping his hands down on the table:: Wan go swedding! :: Rune grabbed Krystyan’s hands. :: Jolara: By the branch! Do not do that! :: The moment the words were out and her son’s expression changed from happy to crying, she regretted it. She took a breath and let it out, releasing his hands at the same time. :: Jolara: ::softer, wiping away his tears:: I am sorry. Do not cry. Please. ::to N’Toth:: This is your fault. :: N’Toth shook his thick blue skull. :: N’Toth: You did this all on your own. Further proof you need to go down there. Maybe freezing your a… ::Rune raised an eyebrow.:: butt off will do you some good. Krystyan: ::his little lower lip quivering, tears flooding his deep blue eyes:: Pwease mommy? :: Rune sucked in a breath. She still couldn’t handle when Krystyan cried. Even less so when she had caused it. :: Jolara: Fine. We will go sledding. oOBesides, it will give me an excuse not to see T’Lea just yet.Oo :: Krystyan’s expression immediately brightened, all thoughts of crying forgotten. He let out a squeal. She gave N’Toth a look that said she would kill him if she froze to death. ::

This a stunning piece of writing by @Jona ch'Ranni who gives us a glimpse at his life before joining Starfleet. Phenomenal work, Jona!

((Bridge, Deck A, Dilithium Freighter Verlaxi of the Andorian Merchant Marine)) ((Time Index: 5.5 years ago, Stardate 239008.14)) ::The palest blue color flashed on the viewscreen. It was a thing of beauty. The sensor overlay alarm indicated they had found their quarry.:: th'Ryken: Bring us about nice and slow, crewman. ch'Ranni: Aye, Captain. ::Jona tapped the thrusters that would align the freighter with the asteroid.:: ch'Ranni: Adjusting pitch positive two degrees, yaw negative five degrees. ::beat:: Ready, sir. ::Captain Tov th'Ryken flashed a smile at the new helmsman, impressed with his abilities. Jona prided himself on how quickly he had familiarized himself with the ship's controls.:: th'Ryken: Good. Bring us within 100 meters of the surface. We'll use the cutting lasers to carve out the section on grid pattern G-4. ::Once Jona had the vessel at the right distance, the young woman, Jhetu sh'Qaarah, sitting to his right activated the cutting laser as bits of dust and ice spewed away from the hole created by the super-heated ionizing beam. Within seconds a quarter ton chunk of rock floated free from the main asteroid and the ship's tractor beam caught it and lifted it away.:: sh'Qaarah: Analyzing. ::pause:: Confirmed, sir. Dilithium ore is present. ch'Ranni: Yes! ::composing himself:: Sorry, sir. We could send crews down immediately to set up extraction charges. th'Ryken: All in good time, crewman. Just take in the sights for a moment. There's nothing quite like it, is there? Look at that asteroid belt out there. :: The immediate field of vision was obscured by the crowding of the closely-spaced bits of rock. Jona knew that if the ship was at a higher plane he would see they really stretched outward for a few thousand kilometers. That made for millions of asteroids and a few of them contained prizes like this one. He smiled back at his captain.:: ch'Ranni: Aye, sir. Quite amazing. th'Ryken: You don't know the half of it, boy. I've been mining dilithium for forty-two years now. Each discovery still brings chills to the back of my neck. These resources will be used to power the greatest ships the Federation can produce. And its our job to mine them and get them home safely. Keep your eyes peeled, you know the Nausicaan pirates have been on the rise in this area. ch'Ranni: Aye, aye, Captain! ::Jona definitely felt excitement when he signed on to the crew. His charan, Vorka, had been ecstatic when they young Andorian expressed interest in getting some experience piloting a freighter. No doubt his father had visions of Jona one day piloting an Andorian Guard cruiser just like him. Jona had conveniently left out the secret hope which he maintained - that this experience could be a stepping stone to his entry to Starfleet.:: th'Ryken: Watch the drift, Jona. ch'Ranni: Yes, sir. Compensating. ::He mentally chided himself for his wandering thoughts. He needed to pay closer attention. "Be in the moment", as his thaven, Spel, always berated him. He loved both his fathers but they could be a little demanding in both their expectations and criticisms.:: sh'Qaarah: ::whispering with a small smile:: Yes, crewman. Watch your drift. ::Jona chuckled lightly and shot back a retort at the Operations Specialist.:: ch'Ranni: I'll watch the drift, if you watch the stabilizers on the tractor beam. Your waveform is out of sync by five kiloveds, Jhetu. sh'Qaarah: Yeah, and you're sitting there with your hand on the targeting lock. Its more efficient to let the lock float unless you're actively targeting something. ::Her antennae writhed in agitation at the young man.:: ch'Ranni: Well, you obviously ... th'Ryken: Children ... ::the Captain slowly drew the word out in an almost sing-song voice so as to stop the quarrel but also take the bite out of the chastisement. He paused for several seconds until both crew members turned to look at him.:: That's better. Now, shall we go collect some galactic jewels? ch'Ranni: Yes, sir. ::For the moment, Jona was happy to comply. He valued his life aboard the Verlaxi and was grateful for the experience it gave him in piloting.:: ::But his heart belonged farther out among the countless pin[...]s of light scattered across the blackness of space.::

When summoned to the bridge at the start of the episode by Saru, Pike and Burnham clearly arrive there via the turbo lift. I’d wager that the ready room/conference room is on Deck 2 or 3.

Reno was great and I really do hope we see her again!

I like they’ve taken the feedback on board. Judging from the brief shots of what we have seen from Season 2, Klingons with hair look so much better. Given how averse I was in Season 1 to the new Klingon look, I have to say that I was very intrigued by L’Rell. Mary Chieffo was wonderful. I look forward to seeing more of her in Season 2. Ditto Tyler. Shazam Latif was great, but the storyline for him in Season 1 ended rather abruptly.

I liked Discovery Season 1 but I didn’t love it outside of Michael and Tilly. After the first two episodes it meandered until the mid season finale but the back half was very, very well done. I look at the Klingon redesign and the more advanced sets as a visual reboot of the franchise- although I hated the new Klingon ships apart from the Birds Of Prey. It is what it is, I guess.