Karrod Niac

My sincere thanks to @LuxaLorana, who I'm sure regrets giving me this opportunity. Remember folks, vote Pakled Party this space-vember. Make The Federation Go Again!

Some of the sims in here are eloquent explorations of grief, duty and the heroic ideal. Others are haunting introspective and brooding looks at pain and loss, both personal and profound. All laudable, sure, but as a counter-point to all that I offer this delightful fart joke, just now dropped in my lap by @Dekas, and thank him for flapping my way. =================================================== ((Quark’s Bar, Deep Space Nine)) Dekas woke up on the mischievous side of the bed that morning. And all the way through the day, into the evening, he had to fight the base urge to do something about it. He was the counselor. He was a staunch professional. He couldn’t possibly pull these things on strangers. So he was hoping not to run into anyone he knew. Except then he glanced over a scan of the room and saw Karrod Niac. Truly none the wiser about any of this urge. If Dekas was smart and reasonable, no one would ever know about this urge save for a passing telepath. oO Just go about your day, Dekas. Just keep walking. Just don’t even go in his direction. Oo By the time he finished the thought he’d already started heading in his direction. And he’d made eye contact. oO Dekas, please, we can talk about this. We have a good career right now, do you really want to risk that? Oo Dekas: Well, hello Karrod. It’s marvelous to see you! Niac: Response. He thought to himself now would be the perfect time to say “have a nice day, Captain, see you later.” He could have. He should have. It would have been the reasonable choice. And yet… Dekas: Oh, I’m doing lovely. No one’s sitting here, are they? Niac: Response Dekas: Well if you’re sure… He took the seat across from him. Dekas: So any fun plans during your stay here on DS9? I mean if you have any. Niac: Response Dekas nodded, definitely listening. Waiting for the perfect moment, where the sound in the area wasn’t too much, and so he could get away with glancing in another direction for a moment. The less than brightly colored area was perfect to potentially get away with it without him noticing. An inward nod, before he did as his people could do with near perfect sound mimicking… and made a fart noise. oO ::dramatically at himself:: Noooo. Oo Dekas: ::incredulously, as though he wasn’t the cause of the sound:: Captain… Niac: Response Tags / TBC… — (OOC 1: I do not typically add this many tags, but it was important for the moment here. OOC 2: This is inspired by the fact that parrots will not hesitate to make a fart noise at you if they know how. They know their crimes and they think it’s hilarious.) Lt. Commander Dekas Chief Counselor USS Ronin J239802D12 Pronouns: They/she (player), He/him (character)

I feel like we should put this quote on the Ronin's tourism pamphlet.

To me one of the most fascinating things about 118 is the way a small idea can be contributed by one writer and then built upon by others until it sprawls into something incredible and unexpected. @Alieth's most recent sim, and this whole arc from our current mission, is an absolutely brilliant example of it and it is adding immeasurably to my PC's backstory while creating some fantastic drama and worldbuilding. And it all started with a one line gag I wrote into my characters backstory years ago. My sincere thanks to both @Alieth and @Rahman and Rivi Vataix, who helped to make this part of Karrod's background so central to our current antagonist. ================================================================= [[Computer Core Tank’s Chamber, 50th level, Lattice Alliance Unknown Structure]] The small group of officers had followed the two Sencha holograms through a tessellation of corridors and hallways, moving deeper and deeper into the structure, in search of information and a solution to the problems the USS Ronin and USS Khitomer were experiencing as they tried to rescue DS33. And, why not, to discover the mystery that constituted the structure itself, as different as it was from the other Lattice Alliance facilities and vessels they had observed so far. At one point, the corridor took a downward direction, before the holograms turned towards a large portal on one side. As the group approached this entrance, they soon found themselves sloshing through a sort of light-coloured liquid. Alieth wasted little time in directing her tricorder towards the liquid, as the rookie put voice to what was on her mind. Syrex: Speaking of up ahead, does that look like liquid on the floor to you? The Vulcan's slanted brows furrowed softly in the secure atmosphere of her helmet. Alieth: It looks like some kind of saline biological fluid. It has traces of proteins and some simple carbohydrates… The commander stood up again, and looked at her two companions. Lorana's tail, sleeved in an adapted section of her EVA suit, moved from side to side, in something Alieth had learned to recognize as a mixture of excitement and determination. Lorana: I think it’s time to get some answers. And before any of them could start moving, all their combadges chirped in unison. Raedai: =/\= Rhine to away team. The Gormangander's target is Alpha particles. Consuming them diminishes the Sencha radiation, but does not eliminate it and does not seem to be affected by it at any time. =/\= The Romulan's voice came through at a good volume, but somehow with a slight distortion, as if somehow as he moved deeper into the bowels of the structure something got in the way of clear communication. It was, so far, a subtle quality, a crackle of static at the end of the words, but noticeable to a Vulcan's keen ears. Lorana: =/\= Thank you, lieutenant =/\= Syrex: =/\= Can you take some scans for us, Lieutenant? =/\= Alieth: =/\= Have you drawn any conclusions from your observations so far? =/\= The mist swirled around the group's boots, concealing the water they were treading in for the most part, which made the soft splashing sounds all the more ominous. Raedai: =/\= In the long run, watching the Gormangander interact with the radiation is fascinating and useful. But the section they are approaching is shielded with a subspace field, which is more than likely at the right frequency to contain the radiation and prevent problems for the station. We need to run an active scanner that doesn't necessarily give us the necessary information, but can certainly warn them of our presence. But this subspace frequency must be in the systems of this complex. =/\= Lorana: =/\= So, in other words, we need to hurry things up? =/\= Alieth: =/\=Give us a few more minutes before performing this scan: if we cannot access the core or an incident occurs, proceed to a secure transport and perform an active scan immediately.=/\= The Romulan had a response ready, as usual, but this time, remarkably, it didn't seem to come with an ulterior motive or a bias. Something that did not fail to surprise the Vulcan, but which she refused to show. Raedai: =/\= If it does not cooperate, we can connect the Rhine's computer to the complex's systems, pull up all the information while the active scan is running and run away. =/\= Lorana: =/\= We’ll do our best, we don’t know what it is we’re dealing with yet. In any case, prepare for a quick getaway :: playful :: don’t get too comfortable in the pilot’s chair, Raedai. I’ll be expecting it back. Away team out. =/\= Raedai: =/\= Response =/\= Communication broke off, once again, with a cheerful chirp, that sounded utterly out of place in the oppressive, dark atmosphere of the station, far too light for the thick, dense air on the other side of their EVA suits. Soon only the faint sounds of their suits moving, their filtered breaths, the splash of their footsteps and the low, deep, desolate growl of the station were all that could be heard. Without needing to utter a word, the group resumed their march, their holographic guides having vanished a few minutes before. Syrex: At the very least, if we can find that frequency, we’ll come away with something for our troubles. The petite Vulcan nodded, appraising where the young rookie's mind was. Alieth: Indeed, and with knowledge of the subspace domain with which Sencha Radiation interacts, we could find an effective way to shield against it and derived weapons. Or even counter the very weapons that emit it. The three of them moved forward into a chamber of sorts. There was a walkway that crossed above a large pooling of the substance. The pool of sorts glowed softly, a faint white glow, like that of an ossuary in the darkest night. A vision that nearly made the Vulcan shudder, not because of death itself, a natural destiny of all living beings, but because of the little desire she had to reach that destiny at the tender age of 47. As they made their way to the cylindrical pool, they could see more details of the room and the pool: the pool occupied the very centre of the room, framed between the pylons that seemed to support the ceiling, and which ascended in graceful arcs, lost in the darkness of the ceiling. The tank itself was filled with a dark substance, despite the faint whitish light it emitted, and when they peered over the edge, they could actually see that there were flashing lights beneath the surface, dim and flickering. Alieth wondered if what she saw as a white light might actually be of a particular colour to other humanoids who, unlike Vulcans, didn't have a vision range that veered slightly more towards the reds. However, it appeared that the core was submerged in the centre of the pool, with four access panels placed around its outer cylinder. These were clearly not designed for humanoid appendages, and had a series of holes and sliders too large for any of their hands. === The three of them moved forward into a chamber of sorts. There was a walkway that crossed above a large pooling of the substance. The pool of sorts glowed softly, a faint white glow, like that of an ossuary in the darkest night. A vision that nearly made the Vulcan shudder, not because of death itself, a natural destiny of all living beings, but because of the little desire she had to reach that destiny at the tender age of 47.As they made their way to the cylindrical pool, they could see more details of the room and the pool: the pool occupied the very centre of the room, framed between the pylons that seemed to support the ceiling, and which ascended in graceful arcs, lost in the darkness of the ceiling. The tank itself was filled with a dark substance, despite the faint whitish light it emitted, and when they peered over the edge, they could actually see that there were flashing lights beneath the surface, dim and flickering. Alieth wondered if what she saw as a white light might actually be of a particular colour to other humanoids who, unlike Vulcans, didn't have a vision range that veered slightly more towards the reds. However, it appeared that the core was submerged in the centre of the pool, with four access panels placed around its outer cylinder. These were clearly not designed for humanoid appendages, and had a series of holes and sliders too large for any of their hands. Lorana: Ensign, any life signs? Syrex: ::handling tricorder:: What th.. Sorry, yes, one life sign. It’s.. a symbiont. The Vulcan's slanted eyebrows furrowed a little more as her short-sighted eyes scanned the dark liquid in search of the symbiote. After a time, she saw it, a non-foaming trail across the pool, and the slug's pale, thin back. Alieth hadn't had to deal with too many joined trills in her time as a doctor, but she remembered well the diagrams she had studied at the Academy, thanks to a near-perfect memory. That creature did not look healthy. Not at all. Lorana: A symbiont? Without a host? Syrex: A symbiont can survive in environments that meet their needs; they don’t necessarily need to be in a host. Unlike a host without a symbiont, that’s always fatal after a few hours. Alieth: The composition of the liquid we saw outside is consistent with an environment suitable for a symbiote. :: Scanning the black surface of the tank :: In addition, there appear to be a number of neurotransmitter chemicals in this pool, :: Pointing to the flashing lights under the surface :: These are electrical pulse feedback nodules, the symbiote cannot move or rest without touching one so that the computer has access to its mind at all times. The three women spread out around the pool, with Syrex scanning the creature swimming pitifully beneath the surface, Lorana occupying one of the access points and Alieth moving to the opposite side of the entrance to try to study the core itself and how it connected to the pool. Lorana: Gaining access. The security protocols haven't been updated… from what I can gather this is an old facility… mostly abandoned. Syrex: oO Hopefully abandoned, that likely means not defended Oo Alieth: The core seems to maintain the subroutines to keep the station running, as well as compile information and send it to ..... :: The commander paused, analysing the various data streams:: ... to the system's communications hub, as well as to five other facilities in nearby systems. It was as if that place had been a research node that had fulfilled its purpose a long time ago, and, at that moment, it served as a kind of back-up and problem-solving centre. But what did the symbiote have to do with all that? Lorana: Look :: points to a file :: It's Sencha Niac's original experiment. A power source… it's been adapted as a shield generator … by Roda Salix, Sencha’s lab assistant. Syrex: Salix… Salix… Salix! I remember hearing about that symbiont going missing, the commission assumed it was dead when they could only find the Niac symbiont after the accident with Sencha radiation. Alieth: That explains how the Alliance acquired Sencha's knowledge: they used her former assistant to dig up the information. :: She observed the electronic villi that moved like algae with the creature's slow movement :: And they probably extracted more data and prototypes from it to develop their current technology… The commander added nothing more, but she clearly remembered the reports of Gra'vel's abduction, and it didn't take her long to conclude that the creature in the tank hadn't cooperated of its own volition. The chances that it had been manipulated or otherwise tortured to help the LA were just too high. Was it sane, after all that time? How long had that creature been in their hands? 60-70 years? And how had they been able to abduct it and keep it alive all that time? By the access panel, Lorana seemed to have found something of importance, and made it known. Lorana: These configurations explain everything. It works as a converter, it transforms the S-Wave blast into an energy source … this could be why the Gormaganders are attracted to this area of space. Alieth: Download everything on a PADD, as well as all the information you can find on how they are implementing it right now. Search to see if you can find the subspace field that Lieutenant Raedai spoke of earlier, if we identify it, we will have accomplished a good part of our mission here. The Caitian gave a tiny nod of her head, but seemed to remain focused on the information unrolling on her screen, golden eyes glittering in the dim light as they moved rapidly back and forth, reading at lightning speed. Lorana: This index here … the host for the Salix symbiont died … and LA put the symbiont in here, as their prisoner and forced it to change Sencha's work. Just then the substance appeared to glow as the symbiont swam around the tank at their level. On every screen of the terminals appeared letters written in Trill. Syrex: Just in case either of you don’t know how to read Trill, it says “I long for home and the freedom it brings” Lorana: It wants to be free? Return to Trill. Syrex: It seems that way, the loneliness it felt must have been excruciating. I would be surprised if it didn’t want to return to our homeworld. It likely knows what we need to know. Alieth: We should rescue them, they are a Federation citizen, after all :: She made a pregnant pause before resuming:: I am concerned about their mental state, though. So many years of captivity can break most people. As she spoke, the petite commander had pulled out the PADD strapped to her leg, and connected it to the Core, making a rough copy of all the available raw data. She would let Lorana make a specific copy of the important documents she had found, while she gathered as much information as possible to analyse later on the Ronin... if there was a Ronin to return to. Lorana/Raedai (Optional): Response Syrex: I am sure I can look after it, if we beam it some of the fluid back to the Rhine, I can keep it in a tank until we can hand it over to the appropriate authorities. The Vulcan nodded and looked around her. Alieth: We can create a small container with the wall panels to catch some of the liquid in the pool, just enough to survive in the Rhine long enough until we replicate something more suitable. :: raising a hand:: but that will likely activate the defence protocols, and no doubt we will need to get out of the star system as soon as possible. :: glancing at her own PADD before checking on Lorana:: Do we have all the relevant information we need? Syrex/Lorana/Raedai (Optional): Response Alieth: Ok, I will leave this downloading until the last possible moment, when you finish your download, Miss Lorana, we will begin the process. :: Pressing her combadge:: =/\= Lieutenant Raedai, can you lock our signals and beam us up as soon as we give you the signal? We are going to do something that will set off the alarms. =/\= The word ‘something’ sounded exactly like ‘ something crazy’ even to the Vulcan's ears. Lorana/Raedai: Response The Vulcan nodded decisively, before turning to the young Trill. She observed her for a moment in silence, before asking the question she had in mind. Alieth: Ensign Syrex, are you sure you can keep this symbiote alive by any means in your hands until we can get it to the Ronin? Even if that means you host it if there is no other alternative? It was not a possibility she relished, even less so if, as she suspected, the symbiote was not entirely sane, but it was something she had to ask. A sacrifice she couldn't force, just ask, because if they took too long and needed to extract the symbiote, it would put Syrex's life at risk. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but it was a very real possibility if they couldn't keep the slug stable in the Rhine. Syrex: Response Alieth:Very well, we will do our best to ensure that this is not necessary. The short vulcan finally disconnected his PADD from the core: he had managed to download about 60% of the information it contained, not all of it, but enough to have an approximation of what the LA had been researching for the last few decades. She glanced at Lorana, looking for her to finish, before heading towards one of the curved walls of the room. He replaced the PADD, back in its holster on her leg, with her phaser and looked at her two companions. Alieth: Lorana, you and I will cut two panels and weld them into a hemisphere to hold the liquid from the pool. Ensign Syrex, capture the symbiote as soon as possible to deposit it in the container. :: Activating the helmet's inner communicator with her cheek:: =/\= Lieutenant, have you got us locked? =/\= Syrex/Lorana/Raedai (Optional): Response The Vulcan took a deep breath, shoulder to shoulder with Luxa, as they had been so often since they both joined the Ronin crew. Then she looked back at Syrex, alone at the edge of the pool. Alieth: On my mark: one, two, three... NOW! She activated her phaser and began to detach one of the panels from the wall. The circuits that seemed to run through it sizzled and let off small purple flares as she pulled each side of the wall apart. Halfway through the cutting process (and when she expected Lorana to be at a similar point) the entire room lit up a dark purple colour and a low, grim alarm began to rumble through the room. Syrex/Lorana/Raedai (Optional): Response === [[Tags! /TBC]] ================================= Lieutenant Commander Alieth Chief Science Officer & 2O USS Ronin USS-34523 E239702A10 =================================

I'm Karrod Niac and I approve this message!

NPC's make up the backbone of our supporting cast of characters and it's a true joy when two of the, both from the rarely explored Starfleet JAG corp, get together and produce something delightfully unique. Incredible stuff from @Marty Tucker & @Nolen Hobart! ========================== ((Interior, Sickbay, Habitat Module, Deep Space 33, the Alpha Isles)) On a frontier starbase, a Starfleet judge advocate officer had to wear many hats, and often found themselves visiting strange places in strange capacities. Just as frequently, they found themselves visiting familiar places but wearing a variety of hats. Some days, a visit to sickbay might be for the purpose of taking testimony from a victim. Others, a toxicology report, or securing some other kind of expertise of one of the station's doctors. On the worst days, he called upon a coroner. But this was none of those days. Today, Lieutenant Dukul Nibar, the six-foot-something Cardassian whose demeanor oscillated between “gruff” and “sarcastic” with an alarming frequency, was there in his capacity as colleague and friend. At a frontier posting, politics and history didn't last long in the face of duty and camaraderie, and whatever roadbumps he'd encountered as a newly-assigned Lieutenant Junior Grade had been worn down by the banality of day-to-day obligations. And Jack Morrow had been a part of that, before he'd been transferred to the Ronin. Nibar: ::quiet, condescending:: Jackie, you've got it all backward again. Jack was taken aback by the unexpected sight of the large Cardassian; he hadn’t anticipated any visitors. A part of him wanted to dismiss Nibar so he could wallow in his misery. He was currently reliant on a wheelchair, as his prosthetic wouldn’t be ready for a few days, leaving him to endure some wheelchair jokes. Morrow: ::eyebrow raised:: How so? Dukul waved a pale hand at the stump that used to be Morrow’s leg, and flexed a scaly brow. Nibar: When they say a good lawyer will cost an arm and a leg, they're talking about the client's. Jack put his face in his palm. Cardassians weren’t known for their sense of humor, and now he knew why. It’s probably why you don’t see many Cardassians doing stand-up comedy. Morrow: ::he smirked:: Hardy, har, har….Did you pay a Ferengi for that joke? Because I think you’ve been robbed. Jack shifted in his bed slightly; he couldn’t get over the fact that it felt like his leg was still there. Doctor Beck said this would probably happen, and it would happen for a while. Jack thought it was downright creepy. A part of him wanted to just curl up in a ball and shut out the world, but the more dominant part of his brain was waging war against depression and anxiety. And if he was honest with himself, the depression and anxiety were winning in spades. Nibar: ::wry smile:: Bulk discount. You don't want to hear the others. Dukul thought it was a pretty good joke, all things considered. But, then, he still had both his legs. His smile faded as he looked the man over. Something was missing beyond his limb. Morrow: ::forcing a smile:: I bet. Dukul snapped his fingers in realization. He had not come empty handed, but he'd been advised to hold off on bringing it in by the attendant at the front desk. There were ways to deal with a traumatized patient, and his gift, they said, was not a recommended one. But they didn't know Morrow that way. Didn't know lawyers. Booze was always the recommended gift. Nibar: Hold that thought. Got something for you. Morrow: Something for me? You shouldn’t have… Jack was now curious to know what Dukul had given him; what do you get for a guy who had just lost a limb? The JAG stepped away from Morrow’s biobed, and spied the bottle and glasses he'd stashed with a PADD under a waiting room chair. Before any of the administrative staff could object, he made for the pile and, in half as many strides, made his way back. Nibar: ::setting the glasses down, examining the label:: “Kentucky” Bourbon has to come from Kentucky, right? This comes from the moon. Legend has it that some two hundred years ago, some fool gifted an acre on the moon to the local government in Lexington. Deed’s still there, symbolic, and now they brew this: “Moonshine.” Name’s confusing as hell, but there you go. He handed the bottle over to Jack for his approval, like a waiter in some high class restaurant. The Cardassian hadn't been to his hometown on Earth in years, but his rarely-mentioned mother was adept at procuring curiosities from the Sol system. And Dukul figured Jack could use the spirits. Jack took the bottle to look it over; he was pretty knowledgeable about bourbon, a connoisseur. And in all his years collecting, he’d heard about this - but to this point in his life had never come across being a 200-plus-year-old bourbon didn’t come cheap either. Morrow: Holy crap man, this is rare of the rare, do you know how rare this stuff is? He ran his hand over the label, feeling the raised letters that read Moonshine. He waggled his eyebrows at Nibar and twisted open the bottle. He ran the bottle underneath his nose taking in the surprisingly oaky brew, with a hint of, something that Morrow couldn’t put his finger on. Morrow: Do I want to know how you came across such a find? He was sure the Cardassian would play it close to his vest. He only wanted to know so he could seek it out in the future, and from what he heard, the Chief Engineer of the Ronin was good at redistributing goods; at least, that was the rumor. It pays to keep your ear to the ground, and no one pays attention to the lawyer. By intentional strategy (and natural survival instinct) Lieutenant Nibar had rarely mentioned his mother. Not to Morrow, nor to anyone else. He’d alluded from time to time that she existed, as she must have for him to have been born, but beyond that he had very little to say about the woman who left Cardassia in the first war against the Federation. She was crafty, and if he ever was caught talking about it, any number of ears might catch wind of it, and anyone from Starfleet Intelligence to the Obsidian Order remnants, to his mother herself would learn of his loose lips, and trouble would surely follow. Nibar: I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill myself. ::wink:: oO Yup, Cagey. Oo Morrow: I feel like I should have gotten you a bottle of Kanar. ::he smiled:: Jack noticed the two glasses and poured two fingers of bourbon into each. Morrow swirled the whiskey in the glass, taking in its amber color. He lifted the glass to his nose, taking in the hints of moss, vanilla, and spicy cinnamon. Dukul picked up the small glass and held it up to look at. He was gracious that Morrow chose to share his first pour, though in hindsight the glasses made it something of a faux pas to do anything but. Nibar: Truth be told, I don’t think anyone does anything more than tolerate kanar. ::beat:: There are few places in the galaxy where you can drink yourself sillier than on Earth. Jack raised his glass and clinked it against Nibar’s. He first put it to his nose to take in the earthy scents, even though it was made on the moon. He then took a gentle sip, enjoying the caramel color liquid as it slid down his throat with a slight burn. Morrow:::smiling over the rim of the glass:: This is smooth. I like it. Thank you, Dukul. Nibar nodded, and pulled from his own glass. What Jack needed to do, was get out of the infirmary; he’d wheel his arse all over the station if that meant getting out of his bed and ditching the doctors. Right now he was still waiting on his prosthetic leg, top of the line from what he heard, it's great the information you can get when you’re not asleep, yet they think you are. Nibar: Yeah, not bad. It felt good to see Morrow perk up. Even though he'd transferred away, once he was given supervision over the entire JAG office on DS33, the Lieutenant felt a sort of responsibility over all the Starfleet lawyers in the Alpha Isles. He weighed the half-empty glass in his fingers. Jack smiled at the Cardassian. It was good to see a familiar face. He was still getting used to the crew he worked alongside on the Ronin and hadn’t met anyone yet unless you count the XO, Rox, and Doctor Beck. Morrow: I need to get out of this dump; find me a wheelchair if you would please. ::he smiled:: He tipped back the last of the bourbon in his glass and set it down next to the bottle. Nibar: The station’s about the same as you saw it last, Jack. You that desperate for a change of scenery? It was true Jack needed out of the bio-bed and quick, he was going to go crazy just sitting on his arse all day until they presented him with his new leg, and he had honestly thought about a Klingon one, as that was Rox’s suggestion. Morrow: I was thinking about a Klingon leg, whatcha’ think? Nibar: ::taken aback:: I think you’d have a hell of a time taking one off a Klingon in your current state. Jack laughed, and it felt good. Morrow: Touche’ Nibar: You know, rumor has it that the CMO on Arrow was a crackpot about prosthetic limbs. I think she got transferred to the Khitomer. Might be worth a trip. Morrow: Anything to get back on my feet, I’ll have to reach out to her and see if she’s available to take a look and see what she can do if she’s as good as you say. He’d take a W any way he could. Jack wasn’t the type to just sit by. He wanted to be working, not wasting time sitting on a bio-bed, especially on DS33. He wanted, not needed to get back to work, he was still looking up the Ronin’s last mission taking on the Tholians and the fact the Ronin had kept one on board this entire time and escaped his confines during the attack from Wrath and the Consortium. Dukul nodded and swept his reptilian gaze around the room until he spied a collapsible hover chair tucked into a corner. It looked disused, and if it had been anywhere else but Sickbay, he imagined it would have had a full centimeter-thick layer of dust. Nibar: ::fetching the chair:: You know, this wasn't entirely a personal visit. Got a puzzle at the office, and I thought maybe you could use the work. Jack watched as the large Cardassian looked around for an anti-grav chair. Morrow: Anything to kill the boredom. Like I said, I need out of here and soon. So sterile and sickbay has always given me the hibbejibbies. ::he shuttered:: Nibar crouched and searched for the interface on the large, white device that would open it up and engage the anti-gravity repulsors. After a solid ninety curse-muttered seconds, he found it. A chime announced the activation, and he stepped back to marvel. Nibar: Ain't that a thing. Morrow: ::Lacing his fingers behind his head:: Ya know, my niece could’ve done that in a fraction of the time it took you to figure the contraption out. And she’s five. ::he laughed.:: The Cardassian grabbed the grips at the top of the seat back and maneuvered the empty chair next to Morrow’s biobed. He thought of offering to help but imagined it might be a smidge insulting. Jack stared at the chair for a minute. He wasn’t waiting for help, instead contemplating that until he got his new leg, he would be stuck in one of these monstrosities. But it was it was, and using his arms, he picked himself up and slid over to the chair. It took a couple of seconds of Jack fidgeting to get comfortable. Nibar: Grab that PADD, and let's blow this popsicle stand. Jack grabbed the padd he’d had been looking at it and placed it on his lap. He looked over the small LCARS display and accessed the controls. He took a second to familiarize himself with the controls, and once satisfied, he moved the chair forward. Morrow: ::looking over his shoulder at Nibar:: Do, try to keep up.::he grinned:: The chair lurched forward a bit too much, almost sliding Jack out of the chain and onto the ground in front of him, and that would be very embarrassing. Dukul stood rod straight and folded his arms, bemused. He was sure Jack would get the hang of it, but he hoped the man wouldn’t have to. He’d seen limbs regrown, but that was when there was something to build off of. For Jack, it’d have to be a prosthetic, but he knew fitment and fabrication didn’t take that long. Or, rather, the optimist in him insisted it wouldn’t. Nibar: Easy, there, Seabiscuit. Morrow: Alright, let's try that again. ::a waggle of eyebrows:: And get out of here before anyone notices. ::devilish grin:: This time, Jack was slightly more gentle on the controls, and the chair moved forward. They made for the exit, Jack looking to see if any nurses were paying attention and how much trouble he would be in for leaving without permission. Nibar: Don’t worry, I bribed the guards. ::wink:: There’s a shift change in five minutes, and that’s our chance. It’s two hours to the border, and then we’re free. They continued out of sickbay and into the small crowd of people milling about. Most gave Jack a wide berth with the chair, and some gave him looks. It wasn’t helping in his trying to ignore the stump, and move forward. There was nothing he could do now; what’s done is done. But the thought of talking to that Doctor on the Khitomer was something he couldn’t wait to do, but first, it seemed Dukul had something in mind. Morrow: So, do you care to share this with the class? Jack looked up at the Cardassian, who looked like whatever it was; he was playing it close to the vest, which was a Cardassian trademark. Dukul took a deep breath. What he had wasn’t solid, but it was troubling in the “something doesn’t seem quite right here” sort of way that a series of innocent coincidences might add up to something sinister-looking, if one squinted. NIbar: Second file on that PADD. ::waiting for Jack to review, walking slower:: Khitomer transferred the prisoners it brought back, the folks who stole the Arrow. I was chasing down how they came to be on Deep Space 33. In the lead-up to Frontier Day, with reduced resources here on the station, Serinus wanted to run background checks on all new transferees, which these guys posed as. Morrow: Yeah, you have to run background; it’s SOP. Nibar: That’s the thing, he didn’t run the check on these people at all. Or, rather, he couldn’t. Dukul stopped in the nearly empty corridor. He looked this way and that. Cardassians were infamous for being conspiratorially-minded, a trait which Nibar might have taken as a racist insult if the good reasons for it weren’t so numerous. Even though he’d grown up on Earth and hadn’t set a single foot on his ancestral planet, something felt wrong here. He was glad to have someone he could trust to discuss it with, someone as sharp as Jack Morrow. He scanned through the PADD; things weren’t adding up; there was a set procedure for taking prisoners, and protocols dictated having to run background checks on everyone. It was simply what you did; the fact he didn't, or rather couldn't, could indicate outside influence, but maybe it was just glossed over, maybe deleted by mistake? Unlikely, but the question had to be asked. Morrow: ::scratching his wild hair:: Maybe they just glossed over them or already had them on file, so they didn’t need to be run again? It’s the break in protocol that bugs me. Nibar: No, not clean. Not inconclusive. Outright refused. Declined. “Return to Sender” kind of thing. He was in the middle of drafting a second request when they up and stole the Arrow. And from the sounds of it? They were aiming to spark a war. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and Jupiter's finger. Morrow: Like the Alliance needed to be prodded into war, they already declared in the Isles. And the last I checked, there are only two ships in this region, the Khitomer, and the Ronin, who will not participate in Frontier days; we’re running shotgun. Jack looked at the PADD swiped a few times, and looked back up at the large Cardassian. Morrow: Could this be related to that? Have you run this up the chain yet? Nibar: Up the chain to who? The stop order came from the chain. Morrow: ::sighing::Figures, you butter me up with rare bourbon and know it seems we’re hip deep into something. We’re just JAGS. Shouldn’t we pass this off to Starfleet Intelligence? This could swiftly go above their pay grades combined. It was still baffling to Jack that he was refused when checking on the prisoners' identities. Dukul was right; there was something rotten in Denmark. For his part, Dukul wondered how to respond to the question. He hadn't. And he wasn't sure if he should have. The Centauran might have a perspective to add to this, as the Cardassian was NIbar: ::hushed tones:: Who's to say it's not Intelligence, too? Morrow: ::nodding in agreement:: Good call. You’re probably right. Nibar: I don't know what to do, Jack. Am I crazy? This seems too much for a coincidence, doesn't it? Jack furrowed his brow and then looked up at his Cardassian colleague. Morrow: First off no, you’re not and second there’s no such thing as a coincidence. Nibar smiled thinly. They were just a pair of low-ranking JAGs, but they were kind of out there on their own, together. There weren't large staffs, even before three quarters of the station’s personnel vacated for Frontier Day. If they didn’t dig into this, it might go unnoticed. Nibar tried not to show his worry, as the thought that this might have been intentional crossed his conspiratorial mind, too. Nibar: Don't worry about it too much. I'll chase it down. If you know anybody in Intel you trust for sure, send me their info and I'll talk to them. Morrow: Intel and trust in the same sentence; I’d rather turn my back on a rabid Targ than trust the people in Intel. So, no, I don’t have inroads there, unfortunately. Smiling more broadly, Dukul looked down the corridor. The docking arm connected to Khitomer would be just two sections down, and Ronin back the other direction. They reached the junction of either heading back to the Ronin or going to the Khitomer and talking with Doctor Ohnari about a new leg. He didn’t really want to burden either doctor aboard the Ronin; this is just something that he needed to do for himself, and Dukul had supplied him with a great reference. Nibar: Go on ahead, Khitomer’s just that way. I'll go back and get your bourbon sent to your quarters. He smiled up at the large Cardassian. Jack's thoughts were a jumble of the data the Dukul had given him and the promise of replacing his left leg. The day was filled with possibilities. Morrow: I appreciate it Dukul. That was some top shelf hooch. Nibar: Keep the PADD. Let me know if you see anything interesting. Oh and remember! Morrow: When I return to the Ronin, I will send you some files we got from the Consortium. If you know what I mean, they might pique your interest. Nibar: The client’s leg, man. Morrow: Uhh…Sure? With that swimming in his head, he made his way to the Khitomer and Doctor Ohnari, who had no clue a strange officer from another ship was showing up on her doorstep without advanced knowledge. He sighed as he propelled the chair forward towards the Khitomer. With a wink, Dukul took off back towards the station’s sickbay. He didn't know if the puzzle would help keep Morrow in good spirits. But the man was sharp, and a second set of eyes would be welcome. If there was a conspiracy to steal the Arrow that reached to active Starfleet personnel, it would be hard to track down and prove. Together they might be able to get enough documentation to build a case. Lt. Nibar just worried there wasn't going to be a second attempt. Or worse, that they'd accomplished whatever it was they wanted in the first. NT/End ——— Lieutenant Dukul Nibar Judge Advocate Officer Deep Space 33 Written by Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart Executive Officer USS Khitomer (NCC-62400) A240001NH3 And Lt. JG Jack Morrow JAG USS Ronin - NCC-34523 D240008MT1 Simmed by: ------- Lt. JG Marty Tucker Chief Of Engineering USS Ronin NCC-34523 Capt. Karrod Niac Commanding D240008MT1

Congratulations to all our day two winners! And a thank you for the recognition of my rapidly advancing age!

Congratulations one and all!

I miss her acerbic attitude already but I'll deny saying that if anyone tells her.

Like Riker before him Karrod has only one off duty outfit and that's all he needs. All credit and praise to @Aliethfor Karrod's rizz.

Jeeze you torture someone in a cave one time and you never hear the end of it Great sim @Addison MacKenzie - reminds me of simpler days gone by.

Niac: Computer, Rizz, Hot!

The early bird something something the quote thread.

@Dekas really has a way with words that makes a scene pop right off the page. Unfortunately in this case it popped us right off the page and into their drafts folder:

Every part of this little exchange makes me happy: