Talia Ohnari

*sage nod*

10/10. No notes. Sheer perfection.

I am touched and speechless. While I go sob in the corner, please accept my sincerest congratulations and gratitude. I truly, and deeply, love you all.

Congratulations!!!!!

Congratulations to all!!

Congratulations to every nominee and winner, you're the reason this fleet is so amazing!

I would too!!! Sparkly ones!

A beautiful final (?) Tribute to our beloved old USS Arrow. May the stars cradle you in love, dear girl. (Deck 1, Bridge, USS Arrow)) Carpenter picked herself up off the hard deck and planted her feet on the deck, feeling more than watching. It wasn’t a stretch to say her old command was out of whack. There was a persistent grinding of metal on metal that indicated the need for serious structural repair. Why certainly; they’d get right on it, just as soon as they were done being imploded from the inside out by a warp core containment breach that, at this point, was too deserved to not be right around the corner. Hobart: ::hopeful:: Weapons…? Zenno: Negative. Repair would take too long. Which was, in Carpenter’s mind, quite a pity. The old ship deserved to go down shooting, like she had always done before. Alas, a large and admirable explosion would have to do her enough. Carpenter: There’s nothing more you can do. She stared at Hobart, intense and solemn. Would he buy it? He had to. Hobart: Lieutenant, start getting everybody onto the Khitomer. Ensign Kay, signal the Captain and let him know we’re coming. Ensign Michaels, give me everything you can to the engines, and mister Avedin, lay in a collision course. We’re going to blow this thing up the ugly way. Zenno: Evac plan activate, aye sir. Carpenter moved quickly, joining into the background of shifting people and plans. Her fingers began to splay across the console, as she accessed the now- defunct weapons control interface. Zenno: Response Carpenter didn’t look at her when she replied, merely nodding towards him with her focus still locked on the old style readouts. Carpenter: The weapons are out, but the capacitors can still hold a charge; I’m routing power through the auxiliary feeds to give us some extra oomph. If you’re looking to help, you could arm the torpedoes in the magazine. He wasn’t sure if the stern Bolian would go along with her request, but she didn’t care much; she could do that if she was successful. The capacitors began to overload, soaking in that rich plasma energy; but the smile came when she felt the subtle warmth against her shin, one of which was pressed right against the bottom of the console. What she’d failed to mention was that the reroute would take energy straight through the bridge access station, and then back out to the emitters. As long as she stayed close, and as long as the Khitomer’s transporters were overdesigned like all modern equipment seemed to be… Avedin: Collison course aye! Blood pulsed hot in her ears as she stared at the viewscreen, and the enormous target that began to fill its borders. Good lord, but it was massive. Worse than even she’d expected. All of this hadn’t been for naught- not as long as they succeeded. As long as she succeeded. The familiar sensation of ants across her body told her it was time. She braced herself, knowing that this next part was going to hurt. Carpenter: The second rule… The hum in her ears grew louder; it would be instantaneous, unless… Every instinct in her body told her to stay still, to not fight the beam, to embrace its consistent effectiveness. But she was near the weapons station, and the warmth was only growing. She gambled again. And she pushed. Her arms extended to either side of her, palms out, face scrunched, as she began to strain against the transporter field. The hum grew louder, shriller, fluctuating intensely. Her teeth grit as the pain grew exponentially, her skin began to smoke under her tunic, and with a final scream… The transport beam exploded, leaving a small puff of ash. ((Deck 3, Transporter Room, USS Arrow)) The room was dark, powered down for the final run. But with flickering, guttering hesitation, the station before the pad lit up, audio reports screeching as it struggled for life. The back of the pad blossomed into illumination; an emergency diversion, initiated by the computer, in the event of catastrophic beam failure. Between her pushing and the plasma interference, the first part of her plan succeeded. Now she needed to rematerialize. Aside from warp drive, transporting a living person was perhaps the most energy-taxing procedures a starship could undertake- and now it was forced to carry out the operation while struggling for more juice, and while hurtling towards the enemy at a significant impulse factor. The pad spluttered and sparked as short circuits that would never normally be allowed desperately struggled to carry out the computer’s override instruction. Two of the pads flashed into fire as power surges exploded them from the inside out. Then, slowly, deliberately, as if each atom was being put together one at a time, the figure of Carpenter began to materialize. After agonizing seconds of partially corporeal life, Carpenter’s steaming, ragged body flopped to the deck, twitching as neurochemical imbalances and physical strain racked her form. But she had done it. Whatever happened, she would go down with the ship this time. Like she should have. A terrible jolt nearly tossed her out of the transporter room; the Sheliak were firing again, and Arrow’s unshielded, battered form was taking yet more smashing. She had to get to the bridge; partially to see the enemy she was about to blow to Hell, but also to ensure that her tumbling little ship didn’t get blasted off course and spiral into space. She trusted Avedin with her life, but she couldn’t risk it. She staggered down the corridor, leaning on the bulkheads as her skin continued to curl with burns. The pain kept her alert, the desperation kept her moving. Oh, and the sounds of the computer’s wailing, interrupted every two seconds with “Warning. Decompression imminent. Clear this section immediately” didn’t hurt either. She found a turbolift, and hung on for dear life as another hole was punched through her ailing vessel. ((Deck 1, Bridge, USS Arrow)) The turbolift just about threw her out of itself as she arrived on the bridge. It was a wreck. Half of it was covered in debris. But she was so close. They were so close. They had to continue. And they would, if the closeness of the enemy was any indication. She sat at the helm, and closed her eyes. This was it. A small chime drew her attention. Weapons control had been destroyed; the computer had transferred the protocols to the helm. And somehow, amidst the madness, enough repair measures had been undertaken to ensure that one single photon torpedo had been loaded in the port tube. She stared at it and laughed, her voice breaking and scratchy, but wholly genuine for the first time in years. It was just a pity no one could be around to hear it. Like making peace with a god, Carpenter placed her finger on the launch button, and pressed it. The single firm retort of an exiting warhead kicked the ship from under her, and she watched it flash and fly onscreen, hurtling towards its target, the last gasp of the starship Arrow. And then the dreadnought fired again. A whitish-blue stream of energy, thick and rippling, tore out from the gargantuan monstrosity’s hide. It sliced through space, sweeping down to cut Arrow cleanly, and finally in half. But the beam intersected with the torpedo first. Carpenter had to shield her eyes suddenly; never before had she encountered such a bright conflagration. It overwhelmed the filters on the screen, shining like a holy ray of sunshine onto the bruised, flaming bridge. As the light began to diminish, Carpenter lowered her hand. And she saw the impossible. A gaping, smoldering, blue hole in the side of the leviathan’s flank began to spread. Veins of flames creased outward like a corrupting scorch, reaching deep into the damned thing’s heart and then cracking the surface back towards open space. Carpenter couldn’t believe her eyes. Well, she was committed. With a snort of annoyance, she folded her arms and waited for the end. The light swirled around her. Fire spilled from high, rose from up low. For a brief moment, the solar system had a second sun. END.....? MSNPC Shondra Carpenter Commanding Officer, USS Arrow As simmed by Captain Randal Shayne Commanding Officer USS Arrow NCC 69829 G239202RS0

You're asking this NOW?!?!?!?

Not wrong. He was like .4 seconds away from getting hugged.

Every academic ever:

Yes. You get a side of cornbread or coleslaw, your choice.

Well, he's not wrong.

The things Space Daddy @Randal Shayne has to tolerate....

Zenno, you mad genius. Inspired by a variety of hated words. Don't ever do that again. ((OOC Zenno is thinking about his Academy classmate Saava, a Vulcan Nurse. She is assigned to a ship far away from the Alpha Isles. They played Parisses Squares together competitively in the Academy and had some adventures on some recent shore leaves. Timewise, this would be taking place after the Emisa III mission but before returning to DS33.)) ((Holodeck, Deck 4, USS Arrow)) Zenno felt such relief after that last mission. Some of the away team had gotten captured and that was not going to look good on the reports. He expected that he would bear some of the burden for that. Perhaps inadequate training, or too few drills in Emergency First Contact procedures. So, he came to the Holodeck to relax a bit. Just a time to peacefully sit on a beach like they had back home in the slanted crepuscular light at the end of the day and consider what is to come while watching a herd of Zwahwas, common ungulates on Bolarus IX, moving down the water’s edge. He had replicated a snack of persimmon crisps, a choice that even Saava would not find objectionable. She had been pestering him in her unique Vulcan way about his diet lately and he’d been trying to stay out of trouble. She had gotten records of his replicator orders and had sent an urgent message, unbidden, to Doctor Ohnari, with suggestions about a food plan. When the Doctor showed him the message, he had almost died of embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if she was still spying on his meal choices, but she probably did have a point. The Doctor had said something that bothered him. Talia was convinced that Saava had a romantic interest in him, based solely on an email about his diet. He wasn’t sure how telepathic Haliians were, or if that even worked over a distance, or if she was just making a guess. But the thought troubled him. His friendship with Saava was perfect as it was. He had never inquired as to her situation in that regard, but he knew that Vulcans had arranged marriages. So, it wasn’t something that he had ever considered. He had just thought her family had some proper match arranged for her and that was that. Saava’s family had some kind of high status, but she was always reluctant to speak about it and he didn’t pry. Contemplating a relationship with her made his head hurt. Their personalities were an example of perfect syzygy. In his private life, Zenno was relaxed and easy going. To people who didn’t know him well, they might have thought him quite lugubrious. But it was just that the stresses of his work made him prefer an easy, somewhat indolent time when he was on his own. Saava was high structure and liked to have her way. Everyone else considered her bossy, but Zenno rather liked it. She knew what her preferences were. But Zenno wasn’t sure if he was included in that list. Trying to find out might ruin everything. But his ruminations were interrupted by a dryness in his mouth. These persimmon chips needed something else. They needed a dip. Zenno: Computer, replicate a side order of Kurugu nut dip. Surely, Saava would approve. The requested dip appeared and Zenno idly dragged one of the chips through the requested condiment and it made an unpleasant squelching noise. Steeling himself, he popped the chip into his mouth and nearly choked. The dip hadn’t improved anything, and it stuck in his throat. He had hoped it might make the chips a little moist, but no. He put the dip aside and just ordered some Altair water. It would have to do He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do regarding Saava. There was a risk that the Doctor was entirely mistaken. Saava was a nurse and very much cared about fitness and health. It was only natural that she would express concern. The Doctor’s scruples could be relied upon to keep out of it, unless Saava made another preposterous request. Zenno was sure that she wouldn’t go that route again. Accordingly, Talia would be unlikely to press the issue with him. But that still left him with a quandary. What to do? In the time since Commander Serinus had left, Zenno felt entirely behind at work all the time. He expected to be fired every time he was called to a meeting with the command staff. If that happened, the one consolation he had given himself is that he and Saava could go into business together and open a Sehlat Ranch. They could have a little bungalow and be free of the worries of Starfleet. In his mind, this had always been a business proposition. It was silly, but he liked to imagine it. Now, this thought has taken on a new dimension. What if it was… more? It did unleash a cascade of emotions in him and he knew he would be very content with such an arrangement. But would she? Whatever her family did, he was sure they would not agree to a match with a second son from an unremarkable family of no status. Would that be an impossible obstacle? He realized how precious little he knew about how any of this worked in her culture. Without thinking, he picked up the PADD next to him and began crafting a message. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say but the words tumbled out of him. TO: Ensign Saava, USS White Pine FROM: Lt Zenno, USS Arrow Honored Friend, I hope that everything on the White Pine is going well, and you are having every success. We’ve talked about your struggles with your Chief Doctor, and I know that you can solve them to your mutual benefit. Please let me know how it’s going. Many apologies for missing our scheduled calls for the past few weeks. We had a very challenging mission here and much of it I can’t talk about. But I can share that at one point I had to fake distress with some food to create a distraction at my Captain’s request. Knowing how you have an interest in my diet, I thought you’d find that… how do you like to put it… “mildly interesting.” While the mission was a success, there were a few rough spots. And when things were at their bleakest, thinking of our next adventure together was a source of strength for me. I’m not sure we can top the trip we took to see the Parrises Classic on Theta Reticuli IX, but I look forward to trying. In fact, if we can align our schedules, what if we took a trip to Vulcan? You’ve always spoken of the Parrises Leagues there and we never had a chance to see a match. I would very much want to see where you are from. Plus, we can try all the local delicacies that you agree are suitable for me. I know you like to oversee that sort of thing. We have a shore leave coming up, so we can talk on a call, then, if you are available. Your Best Bolian Friend, Zenno PS – No shore leave. Someone stole something. At first it was Lemon Squares then something even bigger. Will be out of touch for a while. But I’m still thinking of you! LT Zenno Security Chief USS Khitomer A240006Z13

LIES! YOU LOVED IT!!!

Stupid jerky physics.

If anyone answers that tag before I get a chance to I will *physically* fight you.

Hey he looked great in the armor!!!

#TeamAstrid