Talia Ohnari

He is so going charge extra for this....

I mean...if you insist....you just got here though? Man these Ensigns have weird hobbies....

*Secondhand Lions Voice* He died with his boots on.

HEY NOW! We do what we have to......

I take it back. @Karrod Niac gets it. And now we know why Ra followed him in the tubes 👀

Uh....maybe buy us dinner first?!?!? *huff* Romance is dead.

Not the monogrammed bathrobe!!!!!!!!

Once again, we dared: and @Kali Nicholottidelivered. Who ever thought you would get the feels for a torpedo?? ((Existence)) Space was a big place. As time moved through the eons, it became even bigger, wider, and more spread apart. That which was once a ball hotter and denser than anything that had existed prior was ever expanding and moving further and further apart, the atoms contained within spewed across trillions and gazillions of miles like the unsavory innards of some ill cosmic child. And from that goo came all that was and all that would ever be. There was a saying that the Terrans had which said basically that one was the culmination of all that had been experienced throughout their time existing, and perhaps there was some truth in that. As it moved silently through the darkness of an endless night, the torpedo that had missed its mark might have considered this in light of its failed mission, had it been able to think. Having once existed in a state of nothing, atoms and molecules had been manipulated and forced together by skilled hands, each lovingly formulating a different piece, part or line of code that would eventually come together to form what it had become. The slick, rounded casing was carefully assembled around an angry center, held back by little other than coded rules that designated when and where it could release the inner beast. Slowly it had coalesced into its final form, and only then loaded onto a ship and into the tube from which it had been fired. The small metal case, within which destruction and chaos remained safe and quiet, sailed through the bits of debris left from the destroyed Lattice Alliance ships. Two had fallen already, against the two warships that regrouped as inbound fighters made attempts to target one's weak spot in the rear. In retaliation, the two ships seemed to become one, rear end to rear end. Had the torpedo been able to process this internally, it might have thought the plan a good one, enabling both ships to redesignate resources in a way that would offer more protection. The icy fingers of the void were slick, and without anything to act on it, the torpedo sailed further and further into the contested system. In front of it, a cloaked area hid even more ships, each in a particular position forming something familiar to those on the ships it had left behind. Those who maintained cognizance would call it a Tholian web, and they would recognize how it was being used to charge weapons. Though the torpedo could not recognize this, it might have flown by in awe at the innermost cloak, which was hiding something big obviously, given the rocks that seemed to be in orbit of something ended abruptly in space just as the biggest void within the void began. Far in the distance, on a station it had never seen outside of it's designated sleeping tube, people scurried about. They were replicating inoculations, creating home bases from which to make a final stand, and coming up with new and unique ways of destroying their home should the enemy come knocking at their door. It was unfortunate that the torpeo was not there, nor headed in that direction, because it really could have been useful. As it were, the beings aboard the station would have to figure that fight out on their own, with limited fighters, small craft, and weapons. Oh, what it would be to be one of the limited 100 torpedos aboard DS33. They were certain to have made their mark, both in the moment and perhaps in the history books. Leaving the system was bittersweet, or at least it might have been had the torpeo been able to consider it. Having missed its mark, it was now sailing endlessly into the stars alone, without a target and without a goal. It was lost both to the universe and to time as it hurtled on. TBC -- The Lost Torpedo As simmed by: Commander Ash MacKenna Chief Intelligence Officer USS Khitomer R238605KN0

It keeps getting better!!!

*Space daddy.

What did the pig ever do to you!??!

@Richard Matthews Oh hold on....

We do not deserve @Kali Nicholotti. Thankfully, she loves and provides for us anyways ❤️ ((Bridge, USS Ronin)) There were few things that made their way into the annuls of history as quickly and as efficiently as the appearances of those writing it. All of the greats were known for something; Picard had his baldness, Kirk had his impeccably groomed hair even in the midst of a fistfight, Janeway had her trademarked stance, Sisko had his 'eff around and find out' look, and Niac had his beard. And while each was far more than the appearances themselves, it was the appearances that stuck into the minds of those who would follow. Consequently, even when the minds would wander, that which comprised a being retained the physical imprints of events. In this particular case there had been trauma that had led to its unkemptness, care that had come from a momentary visitor that had left it soft and reminiscent of a field of flowers, and the sweet caress of a lover in the height of passion that left it just out of place enough for others to notice. Each event had forced growth in some way, and in some way, growth had its own way of forcing an edge on future events. Tendrils of smoke drifted through the atoms and molecules that had come together to form the tribble-like substance, permeating the slightly ombre threadlike growth on which the touch of his lover still lingered. The scent overpowered anything that was there prior despite the far more desired, and as the bridge erupted into chaos, that was soon mixed with the damp thickness of blood as it trickled down his face from up above. While well kept that morning, the brain jarring shockwave somehow reflected in how it sat on the captains face. Or perhaps that was just the way he scowled. Voices reverberated through the dark brown filliments, telling of something large out beyond the third ship that had somehow gotten away. More voices spoke to the shields taking a hit and the rear emitters being down. Even more confirmed the sister ship in one piece and still in formation. The mountain of hair moved, the voice of the one who wore it ringing out clearly, mostly because it did not have need to traverse the thickness of it but instead came from within. It was time to see what was beyond the largeness that resonated in the distance. Could they survive? Perhaps. If they did not, so many others like it would perish without even the chance to experience half of what it had. To return to the softness of the conditioning treatments, to feel the flow of real water in an otherwise sonic shower, or to feel the gentle touch of one who would become one with them again, all seemed so distant then. But all of that was well worth fighting for. The flow of blood seemed to become thick, caking up in the fibers and leaving behind a dark patch that changed the overall look. Perhaps it would be this new look that would go down in the history books as determination on the captain as he faced the incoming onslaught of lighter fighter craft inbound from whatever was out there, just beyond the sensors. It was something, but what was it? The beard, and the man who wore it, would soon find out. TBC -- Niac's Beard As simmed by: Commander Ash MacKenna Chief Intelligence Officer USS Khitomer R238605KN0

Anytime @Kali Nicholotti writes for the environment or ship, its gonna be a great time. ((Space)) The universe cared not for the battles nor the wars. It lent no backing to anything, save the discovery of its secrets and the use of its so-called rules regardless of the dark manner in which they were employed. The stars neither recorded history, nor integrated it into the making of the past, and as time inevitably marched forward, everything that was became a distant memory. To that end, the happenings in a little corner of the sector now referred to as the Alpha Isles was of little consequence to the universe as a whole. The shifting of matter and energy from one state to another was paid no mind as the seconds ticked by; a mere breath for the great void was an entire lifetime for any who sought refuge within the metallic skin of the great machines that traversed the stars. And yet, these moments stood as potential to change the path of history. At least for those souls who chose to participate. As a casual observer, the universe, the stars, and the Cimmerian Shade itself was not impacted. Tick. The ships prepared. Their occupants made ready in the only ways they knew how. Those known as healers prepared inoculations of arithrazine and hyronolin with the intent to distribute quickly as a way to protect against the perversion of Sencha Niac's once groundbreaking research. It did not harm the dark opacity of the night, but to a telepathic being with an enlarged midbrain, it would definitely wreck havoc. Tock. Like ants scurrying about, those with the experience and wherewithal climbed around and about the modern marvel the small creatures had built within the void. Through tunnels of their own making, on decks that kept the universe at bay outside of their small pockets of air, and in large gathering spaces, the beings erected ever more technology in attempts to prevent further perversion of Starfleet and Federation research by the enemy. What no one seemed to understand was that the battles were inconsequential. From the stars that bore them, to the stars they would return. Each short life would one day become no more than the elements baked in the eternal furnaces of the tiny points of light that looked on from afar. Tick. The trap was set. One ship drifted, playing dead, while the other lay in waiting. The enemy approached, ever arrogant and overly confident in their standing with the uncaring universe. They were better, in their minds, but in the end they were all just elements strung together by chance. And yet, they moved forward, entrapping themselves in the desire to kill those escaping. One bright supernova rendered one enemy bits of metal, a sacrifice to the great void. A second ship burned in space, the fires making it seem as if it were a messenger from the Terran hell, come to tell of the end of the world. Energy began building; a runaway train with a single destination back to those stars that looked on. The third ship that had come to join them backed off, retreating towards the border that prevented knowledge beyond, save for the tiny probes that had found their way through space and into the shell. While the ship remained outside, unwilling to fire its S-wave weapon because of how it would react with the cloak around the system center, scans within showed a massive superstructure. The beings that comprised the Lattice Alliance had built a listening post, as if the void cared what messages it could hear. Tock. Time stopped, as if the universe had any need nor knowledge of time. The ship with the overload of Sencha wave radiation finally had met its max and the waveforms burst it apart. If the first ship had exploded in a supernova, this one doubled that easily, sending out waves into the darkness around it. First, the S-waves, mostly unfelt save by the telepathic species. Those it impacted differently, depending on just how their brains were built. For everyone else, the shockwave that came after was enough to rattle brains. As the wave moved through the infinite, eventually diminishing, the universe continued on in its uncaring way. The war would come, and blood would spill, but absolution would never be found because the darkness simply did not care. TBC -- Space As simmed by: Commander Ash MacKenna Chief Intelligence Officer USS Khitomer R238605KN0