Theo Whittaker

I came here to post this as well! Phenomenally written by a phenomenal writer!

In other words.... a normal Monday for the crew of the Resolution.

This was so much fun to read! @Hallia Yellir

THE SHADE!

Thank you so much for the recognition @Genkos Adea! @Meidra Sirin and I worked on this months ago and we've been eager to finally post it. I just also want to say that as far as collaborations go, this one was an absolute joy. Meidra, you are a fantastic scene partner and I cannot thank you enough for your input and your boundless energy! ❤️ xxx

I see Ikea is alive and well (and infuriating) in 2398!

Ummm....... @Meidra Sirin?!?!?!?!

Congratulations to every who won an award- and again, to everyone who was nominated for an award. You all set a wonderful example of excellence in simming!

Congratulations not only to everyone who won an award, but to those that were nominated as well! You're all proof of the talent and determination of this fleet!

Be afraid of @Meidra Sirin and her minions....

I was just coming here to post this same post! It's easily one of the greatest posts I've read in my six years with the fleet. Just absolutely phenomenal!

This from @Yalu: I tell you, when I read that, I scream-laughed!

There really are no words to describe just how moving and beautifully written this piece is. @Genkos Adea is one of my favourite writers in this fleet and this is why! -- ((The Surface, Briar Patch Planet of the Skarn)) Gabbro observed the curious, elderly Romulan walk towards them. They’d heard some of the flow in the odd uniforms talk about the man as a “Romulan”. They assumed that this was the man’s flow’s name, in the same way Gabbro’s flow was called the Skarn. They could feel the elder’s mind feeling at peace, and in response, they dropped all the rocks from their lightball form in preparation to receive the newest member of their flow. Ferzdy: Let’s go, Gabbro. Gabbro: ~ Of course, Ferzdy. ~ They continued on together, Ferzdy seemed hesitant in some way, although Gabbro could tell they weren’t looking back. However, he volunteered his thoughts without the need for Gabbro to read them. Ferzdy: I wish I could help them get their ship back in the sky. Gabbro was silent for a moment, considering the desire. There might be a way for Ferzdy to help, to boost the Skarn’s natural abilities. They’d done it a few times before with a dying creature from the southern hemisphere, a great sandworm that devoured huge chunks of rock. When it was dying, they had brought much of its consciousness into the Skarn, or so the legend went. Gabbro knew of it, but had no idea if it would work. Gabbro: ~ You might be able to join us. It is a ritual that has been done in the past, I believe. ~ Ferzdy: Yes, I will, if you can show me how. Ferzdy set the survival kit down on the dusty ground. Gabbro opened their mind and flew into the body of Ferzdy. They combined into a single entity for a few moments, filled with joy and wonder. Gabbro could feel the physical sensations of having a body, of having fingers, of smell and of touch. It was curious, but not unpleasant. They weren’t sure if it was Gabbro or Ferzdy who smiled, but radiant pink-and-orange light shone out in all directions from the footprints where Ferzdy taken his last physical steps. Then, after a moment, the three separated - Ferzdy’s body disappeared, the matter transformed into energy, and now there were two Skarn. Gabbro and FerzBall. FerzBall: ~Let’s go home.~ Gabbro wished for a moment that they still had access to the Romulan’s body, and that they could smile one last time, such joy did they feel. Gabbro: ~ We are ~ Fin ----------------------- Gabbro a Skarn As simmed by Lieutenant Commander Genkos Adea MD Second Officer & Chief Medical Officer USS Resolution G239502GS0

Utterly stunning and captivating, this is the culmination of an incredibly well written and moving arc! -- (( Boarding Ramp, Deck 8, USS Resolution )) One hundred and eighty some-odd years, dozens of covert operations, decades of training and education, none of it could prepare the old man for the steps he was now about to take. It was nice of the Starfleet people to prepare him a pack with some supplies. Extra rations and thermal blankets were thoughtful, but somehow, Ferzdy didn’t think he’d need them. There were crews working like bees all around him, mostly Federation but a few Romulans as well. It seemed as though this ship would survive, lift off, and get back into space, perhaps with the assistance of the kindly group of Skarn who allowed Ferzdy to stay behind. A few had paused their work to see him off, which Ferzdy found most kind. He clutched the strap of the Starfleet kit and turned around to face the small farewell party. Ferzdy: I suppose I shall take my leave of you now. R’mor: response Ferzdy: Talar, principled and courageous leader. I know you will see these survivors to the end of their journey. R’mor: response Ferzdy: Thank you, my friend. Farewell. The old man took a few more steps toward the ramp. With his feet on the threshold of the inclined surface, he turned back around and addressed the aliens of the group. Ferzdy: You all, Humans, Vulcans, Bajorans. It is a shame that we did not realize how much we had in common until so recently. I would have been proud to call any of you my ally decades ago, if only I had known. Any Starfleet person: response (if desired) Ferzdy looked down at his hands, tangled within his twisted fingers was a textile record of this entire experience, a knot for each person, place, and thing he had encountered. He tied a final knot at the end, then slipped the entire piece of artwork off his hand, letting it fall to the deck by his feet. Ferzdy: So long, friends. As he descended the ramp, Ferzdy was never more certain that he was doing the right thing: to live amongst the Skarn for as long as he had left. Many of them had experienced turmoil and loss under their former leader; Ferzdy knew these experiences well. Perhaps there was something he could teach them, in exchange for their kind hospitality. At the end of the ramp, waiting for him, was Gabbro in their true form, unadorned by rocks. Ferzdy’s feet touched down on the uneven earth, and he continued walking without looking back. Ferzdy: Let’s go, Gabbro. Gabbro: ~response~ They continued on together, Ferzdy uncertain of the distance, as he had no knots to tie to keep track. Ferzdy: I wish I could help them get their ship back in the sky. Gabbro: ~response~ Ferzdy: Yes, I will, if you can show me how. Ferzdy set the survival kit down on the dusty ground. He knew he wouldn’t be needing it after all. He closed his eyes and let the energy surround him, the sensations of touch and sound and sight and thought combining, creating an awareness that was not dependent upon a corporeal form. He smiled, or rather, felt like smiling, and radiant pink-and-orange light shone out in all directions from the footprints where he’d taken his last physical steps. FerzBall: ~Let’s go home.~ Tag / TBC MSPNPC Ferdzy Romulan old timer / Skarn ball of light simmed by Lieutenant Yogan Yalu Helm Officer USS Resolution NCC-78145

The writing talent on display here is on a whole other level. Beautifully written and emotionally affecting. @Meidra Sirin, you've really outdone yourself here! 😍 -- ((Meidra’s quarters, Deck Four, USS Resolution)) Meidra and Mya did not say much as they walked through the corridors to her office. The ship seemed quiet even with the people rushing around doing their tasks. Occasionally, the girl would hum one of the melodies Meidra recognized from Carolyn’s music file, but she didn't speak. Meidra remembered being a bit lost when her father disappeared, and wouldn’t push for conversation, but she’d make sure she stayed observant when the child wanted to talk. Thankfully, the door to her quarters slid open easily now that power was restored. Meidra let Mya walk in first and explore the room, watching the girl wander. Mya noticed two beds and gave Meidra a look of confusion. Mya: Do you have people stay in your room a lot? Meidra gave a soft smile as she sat down on her bed, patting a spot next to her. Sirin: No, I had a roommate, but she is off traveling for a while. So I’m alone. ::wishes Roc was on board for Mya to cuddle:: I’ll most likely be assigned someone in the future, but for now, my room is my own. ::picks up a stuffed Vulcan teddy bear off her pillow:: This is Geretaya, but you can call him Gerry if you’d like. Mya: He looks like my Verlyn. I slept with him every night before we came here. At Meidra’s confused look, the little girl smiled. Mya: He’s kind of like your Gerry, but with two rows of teeth. My mom bought him at a toy store just before we got on the Hanno. ::strokes the toy’s fur thoughtfully:: After we crashed, I guess I lost him. ::looks at Meidra:: Maybe my mom found him. She probably has him, I hope she doesn’t get mad that I lost him. Sirin: Mya, do you remember anything about the crash? Where were you when it happened? The little Kerelian held the bear close to her while she tried to remember. Everything had been normal until they got the warning that the ship was having trouble. Her mom had told her and Sam to stay in the cabin while she went to find out what was happening. Mya didn’t like the ship, it was taking them away from home and she was glad that it was having problems. Maybe they could go back home and forget this stupid tour Momma was going to do. She looked up at Meidra and tilted her head to the side as she thought about the crash landing. Part of her was happy that the ship didn’t survive the accident. Now Momma could just forget about this trip and things could go back to the way things were. But part of her was sad that people were hurt from the crash. Mya: I don’t remember. Sirin: Did you ask your mother why you were going with her? Were there no relatives you could have stayed with at home? Mya: No. Nobody. Dad is off working on a mine and doesn’t want us. ::yawns:: I want my mom, Meidra. Meidra sighed and got up to pull out her meditation mat. The girl watched as she spread it out and lit some light incense. She beckoned the child to her, and they sat down side by side on the mat. Sirin: When I am having a day where things are confusing, I find that it helps to meditate. If you want to try it, it will help you sleep as well. Are you willing to try? Mya: How do you do it? Meidra showed her the beginning pose and explained how to close her eyes to watch her thoughts swim around her mind. In beginning Vulcan meditation, one did not try to block these thoughts, merely to observe them. In this way, Vulcan children built up their memory. She explained this as they closed their eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of Vulcan spices. Sirin: When you have a memory, or a thought - don’t block yourself. Just say it out loud and give it a voice. Don’t force the memory. Just breathe in and out, and let your thoughts guide you. Mya took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She was tired, but she wanted to remember. Mya: Momma didn’t come back. Sam told me to stay in the cabin, but I didn’t. I ran down the hall and there was smoke everywhere. People were shouting, and someone threw me into some kind of pod thing. When we crashed the door opened and I tried finding Momma. Sirin: And you found her? Mya closed her eyes and bit her lip trying to remember everything. Sam had tried following her but the door had gotten stuck and Mya hadn’t had the strength to open it. So she had to find her mother anyway. The screams of people grew louder in her head and she pushed the memories away. Grown ups were always loud when they got lost. ((Flashback, Hanno, the crash)) Mya opened her eyes and somehow was on the Hanno. She looked around and saw people shouting and running around. Suddenly there was a jolt that ran through the ship and they were falling, she just knew it. Someone threw her into an escape pod and slammed the door shut. The screams outside grew louder and the girl felt the impact as the ship crashed. She bumped her head as she fell, but in the enclosed space, did not hurt herself much. The door fell open and Mya crawled out over bodies that weren’t moving. She didn’t have time to worry about that because she had to find her mother. She crawled over people that she vaguely recognized. At one point someone grabbed her leg and she looked back to see a half burned face staring at her, trying to speak. Mya screamed and kicked the person in the face. They didn’t open their eyes and Mya kept going. Then - she finally saw her mother. Mya: She was leaning on a wall. She saw me and went to open up her arms and then just - fell? Then she was on the floor sleeping and bleeding. I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn’t open her eyes. She must have been tired. Then Sam was there and we were rushed out of the ship. I couldn’t go back to get Verlyn. ::pause as her eyes flew open:: My mom told me Verlyn would be my friend until I met new ones on the tour. Now I don’t have my friends at home, I don’t have Verlyn. My mom is taking a nap, and I don’t want to be here! ::voice rising:: Why did we have to leave our home and get on that stupid ship? She wasn’t moving, Meidra. She wasn’t moving and Sam pulled me away and she wasn’t breathing and she’s not going to wake up, is she? I wanted that ship to crash and now my momma is dead. Sirin: You are not to blame for this Mya. None of it is your fault. Your mother loved you very much and you loved her. I can hear it in your voice. ::holds Mya as she cries:: You’re not to blame, do you understand that? You and Sam are alive, and you both can honor your mother every day of your lives by remembering her. Mya: I don’t want to remember, Meidra! I want my mother! The little girl sobbed into Meidra’s arms, and the counselor started singing one of Carolyn’s songs softly. After a moment of shock, Mya joined in, and the small room was filled with a sweet Kerelian lullaby that had both of them falling asleep on the floor within minutes. End scene for Meidra Lt Meidra Sirin Counseling Officer USS Resolution R239707MS0

Who doesn't give them side eye at this point?

I feel seen....

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