Samira Neathler

Congrats all.

Congrats and welcome to the fleet.

There's always room for more tribbles.

YaY, congrats Corliss and well done to all contributors.

Congrats guys, well done and welcome to the fleet.

YaY, congrats and welcome to the fleet.

Howdy Folks of the Gorkon, We still had to announce the winner of QOTM April - and yes, because of the tie, it took us an entire month of deliberating who’d be the lucky one. But we can now firmly say that the winner is none other than our recently promoted Admiral @Quinn Reynolds herself. We think that with a new rank, she deserves a new badge too. Congratulations Skipper, well done!

@Alieth - Now, what is wrong with Security? They even allow explosions that take out pieces of the ship.

Well done and congratulations. 🥳 Welcome and welcome back to the fleet.

Congratulations you two and welcome to the fleet. 😄

Loxley: I think Tali was built at the same time as the ship, probably out of the same cold, unyielding metal. Thank you for the chuckle @Hutch 😃

Yay, congrats and welcome to the fleet.

They´re slowly taking over and we´ve not mentioned the most furry ones yet. @Quinn Reynolds 😁

And to say some of Gorkonites really experienced the shutting down of the gates. 😀 @Vylaa

Catwalk indeed. 😄 @Ayiana Sevo

I forgot to post this when I read the sim. @Tahna Meru must be secretly part of the Starfleet recruiting team. 😄

YaY, congrats you two. Welcome and welcome back to the fleet.

The next sim shows, that what happens to our characters, also has an impact on those at the homefront. Excellent piece of work @Tahna Meru and I love the insight on Bajoran culture and Meru's family history. ((OOC: The "present" sections are intended to take place concurrently with the mission that just concluded, specifically, they're meant to directly follow the publishing of this news report IC)) ((Vazal Shrine, Kendra Province, Bajor – 2389)) Tahna Meru tugged at the tassels of her uranak’ei1. It was a lovely golden shawl, crocheted in the traditional pattern by her Yania2 years ago. It matched the one her Yania made for her own daughter, though Meru’s bore her and her mothers’ names embroidered on the hem, while her cousin, Tara’s, bore the names of all the mothers in their family going back long before the Occupation. The Valis women had only lost the object during the Occupation, while Tahna Yavarel had lost her whole family history. Uranak’ei were meant to be passed from mother to daughter for generations, but Meru was the first in the Tahna family to wear it, and should not be the last if her mother’s plans bore fruit. The girl's opinion on the matter was yet uncertain. So far she seemed determined to oppose her mother’s plans, aiming for a future among the stars instead of remaining grounded, forgoing instruction on running a farm in favor of teaching herself exobotany. Bajor’s decision to join the Federation the year before hadn’t helped, but Yavarel hoped her daughter’s mind might change yet—after all, she was only fourteen. Tahna Y.: ::Whispering to her daughter:: You’re slouching. And fidgeting. Meru made a face, but straightened her shoulders and dropped the tassel at her mother’s request. Tahna M.: ::Her voice was soft and hesitant, unsure of herself despite hours of preparation.:: What if I forget the prayer? Tahna Y.: You won’t. She had no doubt that her daughter’s Ih’tanu would go well. Yavarel hadn’t experienced the ceremony herself when she came of age, but she ensured everything was in order for her daughter, and she knew the blessing she was to offer welcoming her daughter into a long line of Bajoran women, though their names had been lost. She’d made sure Meru knew the prayer, where to sit and stand, how to behave during her blessing, wouldn’t flinch when she received her d’ja pagh. She could not forget a name when reciting her matriline, as it began with Yavarel and paused with Tahna. Still, an element of discomfort remained, and that element’s name was Yavarel. It wasn’t that she felt unwelcome at the shrine. While she’d never been, her husband had been attending services there since they settled in Kendra Province, and they were presenting Meru together. Besides, it was antithetical to feel unwelcome at a shrine. She straightened out the uranak’ei, which had become crooked with all Meru’s anxious fidgeting, and tucked stray pieces of hair back into her daughter’s dark braid. It wasn’t even the fact that she had no faith in the Prophets. She did not require her daughter, now nearly an adult and yet still her baby, to take on her own agnosticism. The ceremony was as much cultural as it was religious, and whether the Prophets existed and cared about them or not, Yavarel would be damned if her child missed out on the slightest bit of Bajoran culture. She did not spend her youth fighting in the resistance just to kill their culture herself. Still, Yavarel doubted she would ever seek comfort in a shrine. She offered her daughter a rare, approving smile, ensuring not a single thread nor hair was out of place. Then, she and her husband took their seats on the crimson mats at the front of the shrine, heads held high and spirits proud as Meru approached the Prylar. ((Vazal Shrine, Kendra Province, Bajor – Present)) Vedek Kare looked up from the prayer candles she was lighting to the woman stalking down the aisle like a feral dakthara on the hunt. She recognized her, though she hadn’t seen her in…well, nearly a decade. Not since she was just a Prylar. Kare: Welcome. Yavarel huffed, stopping short of the Vedek. The two women stared at each other for a painfully long moment, as if neither was quite sure what to do next. Kare was there to provide spiritual support and advice, and she was patient, and had plenty of time. So, she sat cross-legged on the crimson mat, and waited. Tahna Y.: ::Tersely:: Vedek. Somehow, the word sounded about as reverent as a curse in Yavarel’s mouth. Kare did not take offense, Tahna Rej regularly attended services and she’d heard his wife’s thoughts on religion. The priestess simply offered Yavarel a smile and remained silent, waiting. Silence stretched between the two for several minutes, until finally, Yavarel shifted her weight from one foot to the other and, slowly, sat opposite the Vedek. The stiff corners of her mouth dropped slightly, a minor tremble in the corner of her eye, all signs of a facade about to crack. Kare: This is your second visit to this shrine, ever. oOProbably your second visit to any shrine, ever, so you must be deeply troubled.Oo Her observation was met with silence, and finally Yavarel looked away, her eyes wandering through the room till they focused on a more distant candle behind the Vedek’s shoulder, its wavering light slightly more steady than the dam stopping her flood of emotions. Tahna Y.: I do not believe. Kare: That is not a requirement. The candle flickered, and Yavarel broke down. ((Resistance Cell Hideout, Lonar Province, Bajor – 2368)) Tahna Y.: What’ve you heard? It had taken Tahna Yavarel three years to track down the location of her husband after he was caught on suspicion of terrorism and whisked away to some inhumane labor camp. Three years of running across Bajoran continents with her small cell, hiding from the enemy, eating whatever they could scavenge and sleeping as little as possible, as much for safety as to avoid the nightmares. After they located him it took another few months to find a contact who could feed her information from the camp. But at long last, three-odd years later, he was within reach. With her contact’s information, she would finally be able to mount a rescue, and she could finally be reunited with her husband. It didn’t hurt that she’d get to take out a bunch of Spoonheads along the way. Denai3, she’d admit, she would relish killing the cowards who ran that labor camp. Kevir, her contact, had just come back from the labor camp a kellipate away, and it was taking every ounce of self control she had to allow him catch his breath before begging for news of Rej. She offered the man water instead. He was panting, sticky with sweat and dust from the run back to her cell’s current hideout from the labor camp, his auburn hair the same shade as her missing husband’s damp and falling in his eyes. Kevir: I– He began to answer her question, but his parched throat made the words come out rough as sandpaper. He took a grateful sip of the water instead, the drink giving him a moment to steady himself, though it was inadequate preparation for the news he had to deliver. Kevir: Tahna, I’m sorry. Tahna Y.: What do you mean you’re sorry? She spat the words at him. Sorry wasn’t a word you used to prepare for killing Spoonheads, it was a word you used for dead Bajorans. There it was again, the same sick feeling in her stomach, the same cold fury she’d had when Rej was first taken. She had cried back then, hot, angry, desperate tears, but she would not cry today. She ran out of tears a long time ago. Kevir: Something happened, at the camp. I don’t know what. This morning, they woke up, thirty-four Bajorans were gone. Not escaped. Relocated, maybe. Or they were dead, but it seemed he was too diplomatic to suggest that. Tahna Y.: Rej. Her husband’s name wasn’t a question, rather a demand. She knew the answer before he gave it, just from Kevir’s long pause, and every muscle in her body clenched with a thousand restrained emotions as she braced for impact. Kevir: Gone. ((Vazal Shrine, Kendra Province, Bajor – Present)) Vedek Kare offered tissues, a cup of cela tea, a hand to hold, and patience as Yavarel gradually composed herself. By the time Yavarel took a deep, steadying breath, her eyes were still bloodshot and the tea nearly gone. Finally, she made eye contact with the Vedek and began speaking, her voice so steady that it hardly seemed possible she’d been weeping one moment earlier. That was a skill she’d learned in the Resistance, no doubt, when she had to deliver heartbreaking news in one breath and move on with the plan the next. Kare had watched far too many former freedom fighters shut down their emotions in moments of distress. Tahna Y.: Have you heard news of the USS Gorkon lately? She hoped that would be enough prompting, and she wouldn’t need to explain any further, but the Vedek simply shook her head. Yavarel dropped her gaze to the cup of tea in her hands, shifting her weight from side to side as she steeled her nerves and continued. Tahna Y.: My daughter’s ship. They’re investigating two missing ships in a subspace rift. I don’t know much else, there’s hardly any communication, but– ::She paused, long enough to finish her tea, as if a final sip would make the next words any easier to say. It didn’t, the tea as bitter in her mouth as the scarce news of her daughter was in her soul.:: Thirty-four crew were reported missing. Meru may be among them, I don’t know. There wasn’t a single tremor in her voice. She set the empty cup to the side, gaze shifting to one of the shrine’s flickering candles. The Vedek placed a hand on Yavarel’s in a comforting gesture. Kare: But you don’t know that she is missing. Yavarel nodded, jaw clenched, posture stiff and unchanged. Kare: Does the rest of your family know? Tahna Y.: Maybe Renas, I don’t know. He’s left for the Academy. The rest…they don’t read news of her missions until they’re over. They don’t want to worry needlessly. Her family’s commitment to not reading news of the Gorkon was admirable. Yavarel checked every day for news of her daughter. She’d spent years not knowing where her husband was or if he was safe. She didn’t want to go through that again with her daughter, not even for a short while. Plus, Meru was posted to a ship that had gone missing for nearly a year, so she thought that her fear that her only daughter might just disappear on it was not unfounded. Now, the fear that haunted her dreams, that clenched an icy fist around her heart every time she opened a report from the Gorkon, that terrible fear might have come true. Thirty-four souls missing from the Gorkon, and Meru could be one of them. Yavarel had no way of knowing until the ship returned, if it did at all. She wasn’t Starfleet, she couldn’t track Meru down across quadrants and rifts in space-time like she had tracked Rej across Bajor. She was helpless, and there was nothing she hated more. Tahna Y.: I didn’t know who else to talk to. Vedek Kare couldn’t track down missing Starfleet officers either. She was the head of a small shrine in Kendra Province, and while her connections extended far beyond that, they were insufficient for tracking down a lost soul in another quadrant. Meru was a smart woman, her pagh was strong. The priestess doubted that she would be lost so easily, or that she would give up on rescuing the thirty-four missing unless she had no other choice. But the Vedek knew these words would be of little comfort to the scientist’s mother. Kare: Do you know the Jia’kaja4? Yavarel nodded, her face still set in the same stoic expression she’d fallen back on earlier. Tahna Y.: Yes. But I do not believe, Vedek. Vedek Kare gently patted Yavarel’s hand and offered her a kind smile. Kare: That is not a requirement. fin 1 Bajoran: prayer shawl, traditionally worn by the daughter during her Ih’tanu ceremony. 2 Bajoran: aunt. 3 Bajoran: crude swear. 4 Traditional Bajoran prayer for protection. -- Tahna Yavarel Bajoran Milita (ret.) simmed by Lieutenant (j.g.) Tahna Meru Science Officer USS Gorkon (NCC-82293) G239801TM4

Congrats and welcome to the fleet.

And thus the counsellor and Brunsig saves us all. Well written, @Corliss ((Main Engineering, USS Triumphant)) Fortune: Sadly, they can affect me, so it’s a little worse than the holograms. ::she frowned, crossing her arms as she thought for a moment.:: They know which way to go, it’s the going that’s the problem. And we’re onto something, if by the big bad spooky thing coming our way a minute ago was any indication. If not a rope, what else do we have on the list? She shut her eyes a moment, and then, it felt like she lost a bit of time. In between one breath and the next, a hand was on her back, hand holding hers in a mimicry of a waltz. She cracked open her eyes, surprised to see Walter leaning over her, and she half expected him to spin her in the next step of the dance. He wasn’t like Loxley, whose hands were smooth to the touch, their fingers meshing together like puzzle pieces. Rather, Walter’s were bigger, rougher, and faintly, she was reminded of her father, taking her hand in his, showing her how to carefully plant a seed of a new generation of plants, an excited whisper as they smoothed the dirt over it, and a proud little sign in front of it proclaiming ‘Corliss’ First Plant!’ She squinted up at him curiously, a faint tremor of amusement tracing her features. Fortune: Sir? What are you doing? Because no matter the situation, she highly doubted he decided now was the time to cheat on his wife in front of her very loyal crewmembers. She did have enough sense about her to know that. Brunsig: ::Low,:: An anchor. Take what you need from me, Fortune. I’ll shore you up. Huh. That was…she wanted to decline him, to step away from the dance pose, but she paused. There was a limit to her abilities after all, and she was quickly reaching them. At risk of passing out, she would gladly accept his offer of help. So, she nodded, passing him a smile. Fortune: If you’re certain. Brace yourself. Because she could only imagine how this would drain him as well. He braced, his stance wide open as if prepared to take an onslaught, and her hand curled into a ball with his. Oh, to be Quinn coming back to find out her counselor had scratched up her husband with her nails. Hopefully he’d forgive her for that. She did feel bad, her normal net and wall were now tossed to the side in order to draw in the lost crew, and she could hardly imagine what he was feeling in response to it. A screech from the Rift, and she felt it bounce between herself and Walter, a reverb that was as painful as it had been alone. Nice. Just what they wanted. Well, actually, they did! Someone stumbled from the portal, looking terrified. Feeling terrified. Her edges felt raw as if they were torn to shreds, and she wished she could smooth them down like the curls of hair out of one’s face. For now, she let out a stuttering breath. Neathler: Help her. Wrenn: ::She looked at Neathler.:: We should have left it there. We should have left it there. Tan: I think she's in shock. She absolutely was, her emotions scattered and almost numb, but Serren took up the lead this time, him and Samira helping the next person through. Neathler: Can she join the others? Loxley: I think a mild sedative wouldn’t be a bad idea. :He paused.:: And if any medical crew come through, get them to prep sickbay and run observations. Assuming they’re in a fit state themselves. Tan: Good idea. Let's delegate the most able to help the most sick, and we'll make it happen. More were coming through, bundles of emotion that were either ragged and numb, or terrified like no other. Her fingertips were most likely making dents in Walter’s hand, but he never moved away, nor shook his hand from her. He was a redwood in the eye of a hurricane, a well of security. She’d have to make more than a gift basket to thank him for this. Brunsig: ::Low,:: Keep it up, Fortune. ::He squeezed her hand.:: You’re bringing them home. She squeezed back, breathing as steadily as she could. She felt nauseous, but it was ebbing for the moment. Fortune: We are. Your help is greatly appreciated, Captain. More than he could ever know, really. A cool well to steady her, although she worried over what it was doing to him as well. Neathler: ::She looked toward the equipment crate.:: Could those pattern enhancers help somehow? Although they’re mainly used to boost energy or particles, maybe they could be altered, divert it to the Rift? Loxley: Hmm, I wonder if we could use them to steady the hole we’ve made? Shore it up, so to speak? Then maybe we could make it bigger without any issues. Tan: If we can, that would help a lot. She just made a noise of agreement, not really sure what would be the best way. It didn’t matter, as all of a sudden she heard a thump, unaware of when her eyes had slid shut. Samira was thrown to the wall, Serren lunging forward to grab her only to miss- Her. Ears. Were. Ringing. Her hand tightened in the Captain’s, and she was sure her knees would have buckled without his hand keeping her up. No. No no no, they were so close, it wasn’t even fair- Loxley: Commander! Tan: Sami! Fortune: No! Then something was dragging her, dangling her like a fish over a cat, and she could feel the moment they all realized what was going to happen. Loxley: Careful! If it drops her, she’ll… It was as if it was waiting for those magic words. It dropped her. Loxley was the one to charge into the fire, both of them escaping into the inky darkness. She had many, many words she wanted to say, tumbling over and over in her head until they felt like they made no sense. But where she thought she would feel a deep sense of loss, she felt… It wasn’t hers. It wasn’t her determination. It was Walter’s. And it fed her own fire, stoking it into a burning bonfire as she drew in a sharp breath. Tan: Sir, requesting permission to enter the rift and effect a rescue of Commander Neathler and Lieutenant Loxley. Both of them sounded off at that. Brunsig/Fortune: No. Serren’s eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, it wasn’t him. It was Cory, upset at his demotion, perhaps hoping she would agree that it was unfair. But just as in this moment, she agreed with the Captain. He needed to have less responsibility, in order to grow to his full strength. And Serren needed to trust them. Tan: We'll try rope. Technically, high tensile-strength micro-cables, but... fancy space rope. Let me grab one of the security staff we've recovered, or a volunteer if we don't have any. The team should be no more than three; no sense risking more and this isn't something we can throw manpower at. I'll need thirty seconds to replicate some supplies. Nothing complex, the nearest wall replicator will do just fine. Estimated time of completion, ten minutes. Brunsig: I said no, Tan. We’re not abandoning a functioning rescue plan for one we don’t know will work. ::His flint blue eyes darted toward the man.:: We’ll get them out, but this isn’t just about them, and I’m not throwing more good people into that place. Deep in the void, an answering pulse. Someone, another telepath?, had realized what she was doing. She pulsed back, louder and louder, a burning lighthouse instead of a candle now. Fortune: Absolutely not. We know they’re not…in danger. We know they’re just lost. We’ll get them back, Serren, but you’re our only defense right now. Keep an eye on the void, okay? And if…if they don’t come through soon enough…we’ll think of something. Something less people throwy, and something more…well, she still couldn’t think right. And then the rift was spitting out people like it was losing its lunch. Ayiana. A woman she had yet to realize the name of, but whose emotions felt familiar, perhaps the pulse in the void? Pira. Samira. Loxley. Her breath stuttered, but she kept up the noise, just in case. They had plenty time to celebrate once they were all out and about. And then bam. The Admiral herself. She stumbled out, her hands on her thighs, and the Captain’s emotions spiking as instantly as hers did, but he’d come to the same quick conclusion they had. They had them back, but who else was left. And then Quinn looked up, and her eyes darted to the Captain’s faster than anything. Brunsig: You’re a sight for sore eyes. Reynolds: The feeling’s mutual. …well, now she felt suitably awkward with Walter’s hand on her hip. Still, he was helping, and they could explain in a moment. Fortune: You’re all okay! Her eyes bounced around them, quickly taking stock, but she couldn’t help returning to Loxley, nervously checking him over as if the split second apart had dealt him damage he wasn’t voicing. Neathler/Loxley/Tan: Response sh’Qynallahr/Sirin: Response Well. Okay was relative. Alive was better. And then the void cracked and her hand jerked in Walter’s hand with a shudder and a shriek. The feedback from him to her, the ringing, had gotten so loud it was like a whip crack across her temples. And then it was gone, leaving her breathless from agony. …fun. There were so many people. One side of her reveled in their being, feeling the confusion and anger and fear, wanting to temper ragged edges and wrap herself into them. Despite the circumstances, she felt herself flourishing with them all here, safe, out of the void. And the thing was gone. The thing…was gone. That was celebration enough. Walter let her go, his concrete force fading away, and for a moment she wanted to scramble to keep a hold on him, if just to make sure all was still well. But she wasn’t a youngster just gaining her powers, stepping crookedly on a path already beaten by generations past. She let him, a small apology for squeezing his hand so harshly, dipping her head at him as Quinn headed his way. Her netting was broken to pieces. For now, she quickly tempered a wooden resistance, not needing a steel one for now. Able to tell others were around, but not pressing into them, able to just relax in the wave around her. She launched herself into the crowd, quickly trailing to where she had seen Loxley pop through the void, and before she could even stop herself, she threw her arms around his neck, burying her shaking body into his for a moment. Fortune: Y-You’re alive. Loxley: Response Fortune: I just, you know, need to cry it out. ::she sniffed, not looking at him.:: For about ten minutes. Maybe a week. Loxley: Response Quinn’s voice raised above the small murmurings, albeit they weren’t that loud to begin with. Reynolds: This has to be everyone. Can we get a head count? Okay, that meant moving. She could do that. She could…do that…she could…ugh. She barely raised her head up, a hand waving. Fortune: That’s everyone on our end, Admiral. Ew, was her face wet? Oh, she just wanted to get back on the Gorkon and hide away for a week. Neathler/Loxley/Tan: Response sh’Qynallahr/Sirin: Response Oh, a new Lieutenant to the roster? Her mind crankily shifted to Work Corliss, creaking against it, the energy it took practically all that she had left. She shot Meidra a quick smile. Fortune: Um. Welcome to the Gorkon? …we promise it won’t be like this all the time? Sirin/Loxley: Response Any: Response Lieutenant Corliss Fortune Highest Quality Counsellor Brain USS Gorkon G239510CF0

Congrats and welcome to the fleet.

Congrats Ensign Shepard. Well done and welcome to the fleet. 👍

That I'd like to see, @Quinn Reynolds 😁

Should have a huge one haunting Corliss while hallucinating 😉

@Alieth Oi, keep them Bear alive, will ya. Some of us do like him. 😜