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:

A true joy is giving out MSNPC assignments with very little in the way of detail and then watching what talented writers decide to go and do with them. @LuxaLorana has been delighting the Ronin with her completely innocent/deeply suspicious colonial administrator for weeks now - we're lucky to have her. Although we may have to shoot this woman at some point. ((Aerodrome, Temporary Medical Outpost, Landing City, Grus Beta Three.)) Emzai resisted a smile as the doctor and the nurse blundered about, she barely acknowledged them. Healers, especially the Starfleet variety, did not pose a threat to her. They'd perform the roles she'd mapped out on her head. She realised that they mistrusted her and that it wouldn't be long before they worked out what had been going on here. And her apparent involvement, and Kipal had ensured that she was involved, at least on paper. The tall human woman, she was one that required consideration. As well as the Andorian, Kos, a constant annoyance. Hardly a threat though. Either of them. Carpenter: Administrator… Carpenter: Finally comin' to render that "full support" you promised us? Emzai: :: indicates the crowd and then the enforcers :: I suggest you unhand our people :: to the crowd :: Starfleet have come here, under the guise of peace. Desperate, on our knees, and they came like they did before, and they brought with them phasers and a battleship. They can't heal our world, or our people. Instead they fire weapons from the skies, they destroyed several of our homes! They brought the fire so they could reclaim our world in their war! They done it before :: to a man:: Jesa, they left your planet to the Cardassians and then to the Dominion. What became of it? Grandstanding always made her feel tacky. It was the lowest form of baiting. It was further evidence that she had now resorted to tactics that were beneath her. It was necessary for her to have an audience for this next part. The results were almost immediate. She observed the ebb of the crowd swell, the rustle of anger spread like a virus. Jesa: Starfleet … they have an outpost there … Emzai: They turned his home to the enemy and then into an outpost for themselves. Emzai ensured that her voice cracked slightly, a display of emotion that she knew would illicit a reaction, as rare as it was for her to appear weak. She needed them to see her falter. They needed weakness from her now, and she'd give them that. She'd become the tireless leader, the woman under pressure. Out of her depth. Emotional. Clairis stepped forward and spat at them. Emzai was impressed by the sheer force of it, and raised a hand as if she meant to stop her. The good doctor took it on the face, without flinching. Emzai made a display of crying out in shock and pulled Clairis back. A show for the crowd and for the officers. Kos: That's enough Emzai you ridiculous klahz**. ::surveying the crowd:: Every one of you knows Emzai would sell you out for a song. Emzai raised a hand to her mouth, and looked to the crowd. She allowed a faux tear to fall. Their resolve faltered, the situation wasn't as solid as she'd anticipated and now a little fear crept into her own demeanour. Emzai: :: pathetic faux whine :: That's not true! :: turns to face the crowd :: I've always been here have I not? :: looks to Clairis :: Didn't I baptise your child in the springs? :: allows her voice to croak :: I danced with you all at the harvest festival not a season ago! Carpenter: T-thank you, sir. And despite our...disagreement earlier. I've played straight with you. ::she shouts toward Crowd:: Toward everyone! ::she whirls on Emzai and her party:: Can your Administrator say the same? The Andorian snorted deeply. Emzai felt Clairis hand on her shoulder, it appeared to be turning around again in her favour. Starfleet's obstinate declarations only turned them in her favour, although she knew that she needed the tide to remain balance. She needed their help. Kos: ::batting his eyes at Carpenter:: Don't flatter yourself darlin'. You're a tall drink of water, but I don't like Starfleet any better than saggy butt here ::pause:: In this case I'll take the devil with the better assets. She heard the crowd mutter. Annoyed with Kos as much as she was. Beck: Not to belabor the point, guys, but uh… we're rapidly running out of time to help treat any of you, let alone evacuate you so you don't… y'know… die in the fire. I don't know what's going on between you all, but personally I think we could all stand to put our differences aside at least long enough to stay alive. Good. The Doctor had his uses. She moved towards him and grabbed his arms, her eyes pierced into his own. Her true nature hidden by the guise of a desperate woman. Emzai: :: panicked :: Why would you fire on us?! What have we done to you? :: desperate :: We just wanted you to help us?! Carpenter: Then WHY are you making this harder?! Showing up to a TRIAGE CENTER with drawn weapons?! Setting containers of unstable and psychoactive ore around CIVILIANS?! Just what's your game, lady?! Emzai wanted to smile, the chief was moving into the exact position she wanted her in. Instead she cowered, and raised a frightened arm.. Drisila stepped forward as if to care for her. The crowd tensed, their was jibes and insults thrown. The Andorian had one other comment himself. Kos: ::Narrowing his eyes:: Keep this in mind Drisila. You can't wake the bear and not expect to tango. Drisila shot him a look. Emzai squeezed her arm to keep her focused on the task at hand. He seemed to narrow his eyes in confusion. But he left the comment as it laid. Emzai: :: looks to Beck :: Please, don't hurt us anymore. Then she allowed herself to cry, she gave them the performance the crowd needed. A woman broken. Defeated. She fell to her knees. Something she never thought she'd do. Their was gasps behind her. Carpenter: It's not just here. It's inside the planet itself. But then again, you probably knew that already, didn't you? Emzai shook her head violently, her hair fell from its perfectly styled chignon and tumbled around her shoulders. The more belligerent the Chief was the more the crowd sympathised with Emzai. She seemed at the Chiefs feet. Beck indicated toward the blown out tunnel in the Aerodrome alcove. Beck: That there is the danger right now - that maleconite you've all been mining, it's not just a mineral. It's reactive, it's dangerous, and it's poisonous. I don't know how long you've been mining it, but I would stake my life and my commission that it's been having some long-term effects on… all of you. Perfect. The crowd cried out. This was their life, the Maleconite had given them freedom and prosperity. They all had their hand in it. Emzai had believed it was a blessing, a rarity that they were able to refine it and it granted them freedom. Freedom from the Federation, and the rest. Except when it became a trap. A trap that none of them knew they were in. Laid out perfectly by Kipal, Droz and the Lattice Alliance. She suspected many others. Emzai had tried to stop them, she truly had. Yet, it was too late. The damage had been done. Starfleet would be next, and Emzai just needed to get as far away from it all as possible. One of those Starfleet runabouts would do the trick. Emzai: :: sobs :: Save us Doctor, please. Kos: Response Carpenter: Oh, for-...Nurse Rox, please recruit some of my people and start setting up air scrubbers throughout the parameter. If we can't clean the air out there, let's at least try and clean some up in here. Rox: RESPONSE Kirsty clomped back toward the alcove, drawing once more her tricorder and shooting a quieting finger (but not the one she REALLY wanted) toward the sputtering Emzai. She took some cursory scans of the inside of the blown out entryway. Higher ambient temperature for sure. Direction was right too. The tunnel wound away toward the range of Kite Springs. Emzai: :: stifling tears :: That's the storage, for the ore. There's an emergency release, it would nullify the Maleconite by burying it under the Earth. I can take you and show you how? Emzai had no intention of going into those tunnels. Truth was she'd never set foot in one of them. Dirty, dark and miserable places. Carpenter: Here's what's REALLY going to happen. Nurse Rox and her medics are going to continue to help those that need it here, with or without your help. Meanwhile, me and Beck are gonna go help the rest of our crew save your frakkin' planet an' people from the FIRE currently eating through it from the inside out. Perfect. The woman turned forward slightly, squaring up her shoulders (fully aware and hopeful in Crowd's rapt silence). Carpenter: Are you goin' to stop us? Emzai: :: to the crowd:: Do as she says. We have no choice. They've made that clear. :: cries :: I just hope it's not too late. The crowd rumbled at this, there were cries of protest from those that held a deeper mistrust of Starfleet. No doubt visions of uniformed officers forcibly removing them from the DMZ. To them it must seem it's all happening again. Kos/Beck/RoxCarpenter: RESPONSE Emzai: :: to a random child :: Go on little one. We must leave, Starfleet demands it of us :: to Carpenter :: I must retrieve Kipal. Kos/Beck/Rox/Carpenter: RESPONSE Emzai: What? For a split second the facade dropped, the steel returned to her eyes. Kos/Beck/Rox/Carpenter: RESPONSE Emzai: Uhm sure I can show you … of course. -- Lt JG Luxa Lorana Science Officer USS Ronin A240004LL2

Sometimes it takes a while for a group of writers to settle into a vibe with one another and to begin forming those bonds that help a crew evolve into a family. Then there are the good folks aboard the Ronin who already write like they've been together for years. As a CO it's a joy to behold and more than worth sharing with the rest of the fleet. Bravo folks - although I don't know why you think the Ronin needs a Junior Officer Protection Association. ================================================================= ((Lounge, Mission Pod Level B, USS Ronin)) Vomek paced again across the lounge. Rox sat in one of the padded chairs and watched him go back and forth. She was not sure why she’d come. She was not an officer of any kind and while the Oumuamua crew had accepted her as part of JOPA, there was no reason to think that the Ronin crew would do so automatically. Still, there was the entertainment value of watching Vomek squirm. He was not what you’d call a people person. Rox was impressed he’d gone this far out of his comfort zone. Vomek had seen Toxin run one of these meetings with no trouble at all, but Vomek could feel sweat on his face. He had chairs and he’d gotten several pizzas and various types of beer replicated. Now he waited to see who might walk through the door. He made another circuit of the Lounge and was about start yet another when the the door to the Lounge opened. Luxa stepped through the doors, her tail swayed behind her confidently. Luxa's hair was flattened down against her skull, straightened and fell straight down her back. It accentuated her feline features and striking amber eyes. Her dress was golden silks that matched her eyes and crossed in several places along her chest, only revealing two triangles on her side. It was a Caitian design, that then floated out around her legs; beautiful and freeing. She had only had cause to visit the crew mess onboard, and she was stricken with how beautiful the lounge was, it was as if she'd stepped into a different time period. The bar area was situated between two pillars, that dominated an entire wall. The pillars were embossed with warm, dim glimmering lights that swirled into differing shapes and images. She believed she could see a man, swinging what appeared to be a blade in those lights. It was the briefest of flashes. The rest was decorated with what appeared to be strong, dark wooden tables and chairs positioned in various formations to offer both larger areas for groups and more intimate spaces for those who liked to keep things private. There was latticed wood on the walls, with luscious plants that crawled along them. She enjoyed that they seemed to have opted for a selection of Federation plants throughout the lounge. She went to the nearest, leant over and sniffed; an orchid that she knew most if not all would recognise. A midnight orchid, she wondered if this came from the Academy gardens themself. Maybe tended to by the famous Boothby, or his holodeck alternative that now tended to the gardens. The thought sent shivers down her spine. It felt unnatural and ghostly, although others seemed to find it comforting. Vomek: Hello. I’m Ensign Vomek. Welcome to JOPA. Luxa spun towards him. Lorana: Hello Ensign. oO a Romulan? Oo She smiled, and extended her hand. Her second Romulan meeting in a matter of months. Times were changing. Lorana: Ensign Lorana, and Science Officer :: she indicated her gown :: Today I'm just Luxa. Vomek took the Caitian’s hand. Vomek: Echante. Luxa smiled. Vomek: If you help yourself to some pizza and beer I’ll tell you more about JOPA once all our potential members have arrived. Luxa scented the nurse before she saw her, with her pale skin and dark raven hair. Nurse Rox, with the not quite human scent. Luxa moved towards the pizza and beer. She'd encountered beer before, at Hiro's movie night on the Artemis, and knew that she'd skip that beverage. She hoped that the friendly Romulan wouldn't mind. The pizza however, she wondered how many pieces would be considered polite. She'd certainly eat it all if given the chance. Vomek: ::turning to Rox:: You finally going to join us. Go to the academy and all? Rox: No I’m not a member, purely here for logistical support. ::indicating her bowling shirt from the Oumuamua:: see “Crew Girl” Says it all I think. Lorana: Harry Kim? :: looks to Vomek confused, points to his shirt :: You bear his name? :: confused :: Relation? Vomek: ::looking at his shirt:: Yes it was a gift from the JOPA chapter on the USS Oumuamua. The “Harry Kim” is just a bad joke. The door to the Lounge slipped open again and Quentin stepped in wearing his blue coat with PADD in hand, typing out his patient notes for the day, his brow furrowed slightly. He didn't look up until he'd nearly run into one of the tables that had been moved for this meeting, and he looked around only mildly embarrassed before shutting off the screen and tucking it into his pocket. He spotted Rox and Avae chatting, offered them both a nod, and then cleared his throat to address… anyone, really. Beck: Uh… this is for the JOPA meeting, right? Got a message in my inbox I might want to be here tonight. Vomek: Welcome doctor. Please help yourself to some food and a beverage. The Dark Island brew is from my adopted homeland, Orkney. He nodded and raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck before crossing to the food table, letting out a low whistle. Beck: Quite a spread. Just realized how hungry I am. Luxa popped another piece of the pizza in her mouth, and almost swallowed it whole. It was warm, and delicious. She was glad that she'd managed to get her appetite back after not eating a mouthful during lunch. Lorana: :: swallows :: Hello, again. :: extends paw :: We didn't get to properly say hello before in Sickbay. Quentin Beck isn't it? Quentin brightened a little at her greeting, reaching out to shake her paw firmly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. Beck: Yeah, that's right. And you're Luxa. Pleased to meet you in better circumstances. How are you feeling? Any better? Lorana: Much better doctor. Beck: I gotta tell ya, I appreciate you letting me take care of that final bit of treatment for you - first day in Sickbay so I was a little nervous, but you made things easy. He picked up a plate and started loading it with pizza, a slice or two from each pie, picking at extra melty pieces of cheese that were falling off and scooping them into his mouth immediately. Lorana: I wasn't about to refuse, having your molecules begin to lose cohesion can make you very willing to accept any treatment available :: laughs :: And you were very delicate with me. I appreciate that. Looking across the room, Vomek was satisfied that phase 1 of his plan had been successful. People had come and were now enjoying themselves. It made sense that phase 2 should begin. Vomek: Uh hello everybody? Rox chuckled. No one was paying attention to Vomek. She wondered if she should tell someone about his Oumuamua nickname. Vomit. She decided to hold her tongue for the moment. The room was crowded with junior officers and they could be fickle on a good day. The less they noticed a non-commissioned crewman the better. Vomek: ::louder:: Uh guys? Hello? Just coming off his shift, Ian knew he was going to be late for this JOPA meeting Ensign Vomek was putting together but better late than never. It was at least a chance to meet some of the other “lower decks” folks. Ian knew that Luxa and C’iri would be there so he’d at least know a couple people. The doors of the lounge opened and as Ian was about to step through the entryway. Deciding that she could not watch Vomek suffer further, Rox walked over to stand beside Vomek and gave a loud, shrill whistle. The room went silent. Ian stopped in the doorway, not entirely sure he wanted to walk through at that moment, the shrill whistle was still ringing in his ears. Vomek: ::looking at Rox:: Thank you. Rox walked to the back of the room and leaned against the wall. Vomek: I didn’t get to meet you all yet. My name is Ensign Vomek, helm and comms officer from the USS Oumuamua. He glanced around the room. Vomek: I was also on the Foxy Lady during the Denali Invitational. We took third. Vomek gave a broad smile to the room. He expected that information would impress the room and give credence to his leadership. Luxa narrowed her eyes, they had engine troubles and had to leave the race. She was certain they'd have won. Lorana: :: jokes :: You're lucky the Vela had to leave the race. I hope you enjoyed the Kryptilithium though! :: laughs :: Vomek: ::calling back to Lorana:: That was just rude. Ian was pretty sure Luxa’s comment was intended as a joke but it didn’t seem as though Vomek was comprehending the humor. He’d met the Ensign several times but their only real interactions had been as Helm officers at shift transfer of duties times. Routine and professional stuff only. Quentin snorted. Beck: The Foxy Lady? Who came up with that one? Rox happened to be walking past Beck and hearing the name of her precious vessel being dissed, she stuck him sharply on the shoulder with her fist. Rox: ::saucy:: I did. Do you have an opinion on it? Beck: ::grinning and rubbing his shoulder:: Ouch. Just thought it was amusing, that's all. Rox raised her eyebrow and continued her walk to the back of the room. O’Connor: :: Finally walking fully into the room:: I believe Ensign Lorana was just poking a little bit of fun, no need to get riled. We are all here for some fun and to find out what this JOPA thing is all about. Ian hoped Luxa wouldn’t get mad at him for the comment but he didn’t want things to get out of hand…at least right off the bat. Luxa appreciated O’Connor's attempts to defend her but felt they weren't necessary. A little bit of friendly banter was fine by her, although she still gave him a friendly nod. Vomek: So JOPA is the Junior Officers Protection Association. We’re here to watch out for each other. We all know things can be rough if you’re lower decks, lower ranked than a Lieutenant. JOPA is here to help and support you. Because we have former members, we can use those connections later. Ian wondered if Vomek realized that Ian’s deflective comment just protected him from Lorana. Probably not. He’d bet it went right over his head like Lorana’s ribbing. Quentin cradled a cup of coffee to offset the beer he'd been drinking earlier, steam rising from the rim. Beck: So how does that work once you're promoted? Is that the 'former member' thing? Kind of like being an alumnus? Vomek: ::nodding to Beck:: Yes once you’re an alum you can help others up the ladder. ::looking across the crowd:: No one is obligated to join, I just wanted to present the opportunity. He glanced around the room again trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible. Vomek: I enjoyed JOPA because I made friends. We did lots of social stuff and I was able to connect with a bridge buddy more easily. Rox had strolled back to stand next to the pizza table. She was debating whether a piece of pepperoni or a piece of cheese would be better. She looked up thinking Vomek was just about to miss something important. Rox: ::shouting from the back:: Pranks! Ian swung his head around to nurse Rox. Luxa wasn't sure pranks were a good idea since she'd been in enough bother since arriving. O’Connor: Pranks? On who? Vomek: Well ::hesitating:: in order to be full members, there is a requirement to play a prank on a senior officer. O’Connor: Wait so this group encourages us to prank the multi-pips? Vomek: We encourage risk taking as preparation for command. This seemed pretty darn ironic for what Ian knew of Vomek. Maybe he was misjudging him. O’Connor: You’re encouraging that? Vomek gave O’Conner a broad smile. Beck: So hazing the newbies. Got it. I had to do that at MIT, too. I assume they're meant to be good-natured pranks and not things that'd get your commission revoked. Vomek: Well for my prank I convinced our XO that another JOPA member was an ambassador. I got him to give a tour of the Oumuamua in only his pants. Oh, yes. Ian had definitely misjudged Vomek. Rox: I heard somebody once glitter bombed Wes Greaves office. Vomek: We can assign teams for pranks. I suggest Lorana and Beck show Commander Carpenter a good time. Perhaps O’Connor and Tucker could give Doctor Kel a thrill? Beck: ::wrinkling his nose over his mug:: Prank the Chief of Security? Man, that feels like bad juju… ::looking to Lorana and smirking:: But I bet we could come up with something good… Lorana: Not sure I want to feel Carpenter's wrath :: looks to Beck :: Although it might be fun to … try something. Rox: ::loudly:: No!. Dr. Kel is off limits. Vomek: No one is off limits Crewman Queen. Rox: V’Len was off limits on the Oumuamau. Vomek: No, we just didn’t get to him. Rox: I’m telling you he’s off limits. Rox: For one one thing I don’t want to get caught up in someone's prank. I work in sickbay. Beck: Hey, I do, too, but as long as it isn't a stupid prank that'd get somebody hurt, I'm sure it'd be okay. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw and studying Rox for a moment before shrugging. Beck: Besides, he seems like he's got a good sense of humor to me. Vomek: ::nodding:: He is always pleasant. Rox: Dr. Kel puts us together when we’re hurt. You really want to piss him off? You could end up with two heads! O’Connor: That’s okay, I think, I’m going for the big guy…but I need a science buddy and someone medically or first aid trained. Any takers? Beck: I can help with that. I'll have my hands full working with Luxa to prank Carpenter, but I don't see why I wouldn't be able to provide you with some assistance. Luxa smiled at Beck. Vomek: What if Ico, and Vailani take Commander Raga? Luxa laughed at the thought of Vailani doing a prank, and then shuddered at the prospect of it. Especially the Bajoran duo on the case. Vomek: And just to show I’m a good sport ::looking around:: Jones and I will take the good Captain. Vomek: Great. Everyone enjoy some food and thanks for coming. With that done Vomek stepped down from the podium and headed toward the back of the room Vomek: Well that went well. Vomek received only an eye roll from Rox, but he decided to ignore the woman for the moment. He made his way over to the Caitian, Luxa Lorana. Vomek: ::tapping Lorana on the shoulder:: So, the Vela eh? It’s a shame you had to drop out. The Kryptilitium was a good trick. Quentin eyed Lorana with amused curiosity. Beck: Oh, wait a second - I was trying to remember why all that sounded familiar. I remember watching that race at the Academy, they even canceled classes for the day so we could all enjoy it. Were you piloting the Vela? Lorana: Yes I was, until we got some engine problems and had to bail out. Myself, Ensigns Kader and Kuva from the Artemis. We were the ones who deployed the Kryptilithium over the course, and slowed the racers down :: sneaky :: Never trust a scientist. Vomek: Well I was impressed by the subterfuge, and I’m Romulan. Lorana: I take that as a compliment. Beck: Sounds like I'm gonna have to keep a close eye on you both. He looked up to see O'Connor leaving the lounge. Beck: I'm gonna go chat with him about what he needs - Luxa, let's touch base later to discuss our plans for the CTO. Waving to them both, he downed the last of his coffee before jogging to catch up with Ian. O’Connor: :: walking out with “science buddy” and first responder :: …so from what I understand, the Yilga Bat guano extract should only work on a joined Trill and will either make their hair glow in the dark, preferred option, or cause an allergic reaction that will make all of their spots swell to the size of golf balls, unpreferred option… Beck: ::blinking:: Uh… well, I can take a look at his medical file to see what allergies he might have. That's a wild, wild idea… Rox shook her head as she watched O’Connor walking out of the room. They had forgotten one thing. She decided not to warn them, she’d just make sure she was ready when the time came. With all that being said, and the others leaving. Luxa decided to follow suit. She was no real use at pranks but she found that she wouldn't mind getting to know this human doctor a little better. – Ensign Vomek H/C/O Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 T239811VK2 He/Him (character and player) & Ensign Quentin Beck Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0 & Lt JG Luxa Lorana Science Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A240004LL2 & Ensign Ian O’Connor HCO USS Ronin NCC-34523 R240009IO4 & Rox Nurse USS Ronin NCC-34523 T239811VK2 He/Him (character and player)

How do you know what my joints sound like!?!?!?

This year's theme for the USS Ronin will be - We just launched! We won't be contestants this year but we're happy to cheer on everyone else around the fleet! Have some spooky fun everybody!

I.I. is a serious issue affecting dozens of mature vessels. Ask your Engineer if Nacellion is right for you. If warp field lasts for more than four hours, contact the Starfleet Corps of Engineers immediately.

He’s always Gott his eye on you!

One of the greatest things about our format is the idea that you can release an idea into the wild and, if you're very very lucky, others will take hold of that idea and run with it in ways you never could've imagined. I started the Brew Continuum as an Ensign and somehow, years later, the idea of the little coffee shop that could but probably shouldn't has kept growing and evolving and delighting writers across the fleet. This newest installment is one of my absolute favorites and features a brilliant characterization of one of the hardest species to do well, the Children of Tama/Tamarians. Bravo @Robin Hopper! ====================================================================== ((Brew Continuum, Deck 3 – USS Artemis)) Javaris stood behind the counter of the small caffé, nestled into a nook-like room across from the ship’s Mess Hall, beaming with pride. It was now the second day since his venture had opened its doors, and with much of the crew enjoying their ‘shore leave’, he was sure that business would boom like Kaelor’s forge, its fires never ceasing. It had taken quite some convincing to talk his managers aboard Deep Space 224 into allowing him to open and operate his own franchise aboard the newly-christened USS Artemis-A but, much like Orani, with her eyes on the summit, he had persevered. Now, his hopes and dreams had been made a reality, and it was only a matter of time until his efforts would prove successful – Javaris was sure of it. So, he began puttering about, preparing for the day’s activities – grinding beans, heating steam, and flicking on the aroma dispersal unit which would fill the café with the smell of delicious baked goods. Javaris: ::Sighing contentedly:: Raesh and Jorin, sailing prosperous seas… As he predicted, it was not long before the first customers of the day found their way into his establishment, and his work could begin in earnest. Jibrore, piping hot. Macchiato, its foam extra frothy. Raktajino, its intensity tempered with oat milk… The hours of day sailed along as one, by one, new loyal customers were earned through the crucible of dedicated and studious mastery of the arts of caffeination and customer service. Many of his first customers were, predictably, those already familiar with the Brew Continuum’s outlet aboard the Spacedock… Engineering Crewmen who had been tasked with assisting the Artemis’ crew in their repair efforts whilst the vessel was docked. After several hours, however, a new and altogether unfamiliar face entered – a most auspicious visitor… One of the Artemis’ own complement of Starfleet Officers. The Tamarian barista waved cheerily, greeting the newcomer and inviting them to experience one (or several) of the Brew Continuum’s delightful offerings. Javaris: ::Grinning:: Amara's hearth, its embers glow for all who draw near! Any: Response Javaris nodded, eagerly, happy to attend to the officer’s caffeic needs and desires. He indicated the menu, projected onto a screen above his head so that daily offerings could be customized depending on the availability of fresh ingredients (after all, much like Raesh and Jorin on their journey of trade, once the Artemis ‘set sail’, it could well be some time before they made port again). Javaris: ::Indicating the breadth of available options:: Temba, his arms wide, with pastries abundant... Any: Response Clapping his hands together, Javaris exulted in his customer’s selection. It was a fine choice – and one which he would dearly enjoy preparing as well. Javaris: ::Reacting favourably:: Mirab, receiving nectar from the stars! With the order input into his inventory tracking system, Javaris moved to his devices and began preparing the order. However, customer service neither began nor ended with the preparation of goods. No, no, it began and ended with connection. With that in mind, he attempted to engage his visitor in polite, yet friendly, conversation… Javaris: ::Indicating himself:: Javaris, the huntress’ humble barista. ::Indicating the newcomer:: Lumara's tapestry, woven with shared stories? Any: Response TAG / TBC == PNPC Javaris (he/him) Proprietor & Barista, Brew Continuum USS Artemis-A V239806K11

Well he does now.

A good NPC is worth its weight in latinum but the challenge can often be bringing life to a character or species that we have very little canonical knowledge of. Here Lt. Jg. Hobart swings for the fences and nails a delightfully disgusting characterization in this introductory sim. It's the first sim I've posted in appreciations that made me nauseous, so, cheers! ======================================== ((Command Hub, Central Ventrical, SCS Imperative)) An alarm chimed strangely at Senior Associate Regional Vice Director Of Exploitation Goo’py. The alarm itself was perfectly ordinary, but the fact of it was strange. The humanoid tenant of the Federation facility, one Boo-Fard, had requested an arrival at a specific time, but Vice Director Goo’py didn't get where he was by taking directives from lesser species. He departed Shev’Unden when he was ready, and not a moment earlier or later. But the strangeness of the alarm bothered Goo’py. A ship on an intercept course, of unidentified allegiance, was detected by the Imperative's long range scanners. The trajectory matched a Ferengi origin. The Ferengi, as a species, were easy enough to corral. Their sense of independence could be easily and entirely subsumed by their desire to reap a profit. But their nature of profit was deeply flawed. Measured in terms of currency, the Ferengi were a people wealthy beyond imagination. In terms of power, their greed was a flaw to be exploited. But also managed. On Naz, they had been allowed to fester as an infestation. It was a tale as old as time. Director Flur’psh had thought to allow the Ferengi access, as something of an invasive species. It was on the surface, a sound idea. Mining operations would continue, but the burden on corporate assets would be reduced. Flur’psh was an idiot, who had lingered far too long in a position he clearly couldn't handle. His mind had grown sloppy, and his folds sagged and reeked of a career gone stale. He was, to Goo’py’s photoreceptors, ripe for the picking, and Naz was where he was softest. A victory here would not only reinforce the vital flow of resources from within Naz, but secure Goo’py’s future within the Corporate hierarchy. As his ship blurped out of warp within sight of the horribly spindly looking Deep Space 33, Goo’py gripped a control crystal and accessed the ship's navigation and control suite, setting course for an open bay. Not waiting for instruction from the station. If he was forced to wait for the Federation to catch up with his requirements, he would shrivel and die of old age before even setting foot on their ramshackle excuse for a Starbase. No, Station Ops would accommodate him, at his leisure. The Federation wouldn't risk anything else. With the course programmed and autopilot engaged, Goo’py disabled the Imperative’s artificial gravity. He was no longer required to stay at his station, and zero-G movement was, of course, the most expedient way to get from one compartment of the compact destroyer to another. Leaving his small crew behind, Goo’py prepared himself for the inglorious work of interfacing with lesser lifeforms. ((Timeskip, Docking Bay, Deep Space 33)) Vice Director Goo’py loathed the station from the beginning. The atmosphere was appropriate, but the architecture was gaudy and insistence on making him fight the artificial gravity was obnoxious. He surveyed the motley arrangement of officers and diplomats. In contrast to the Ferengi, the Federation was resilient, a begrudgingly-acknowledged threat. The variety of cultures contained within it meant it could at times struggle to survive, but, in doing so, became more resilient against manipulation. The treaty, for now, held, but the Federation was not his concern this day. Naz was. From his core a deep bubbling and burping, a glopping and sloshkng preceded his speech. Goo’py: Speak carefully or your own words may doom you. The traditional Sheliak greeting was true enough. It's why speech was often a last resort. Script and law and rules could and should be made as lengthy and complex as they needed to be. But the inferiority of the meatier species inevitably presented itself in their preference for speech. Hasty and vague, Goo’py often wondered if it was due to the fear of their meat going to spoil. Any: Response More gurgling and squicking could be heard in the room, as Goo’py formulated his speech carefully. Goo’py: I am the Sheliak Corporate Authority in the Naz region, and, for the extent of thisss… summit, on thisss… space station. When you address me, you address Shev’Unden. Any: Response TAG/TBC ——— Goo’py Senior Associate Regional Vice Director Of Exploitation Sheliak Corporate Authority as simmed by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer USS Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3

A well earned victory mate, congratulations! Look forward to your prompt for next years competition!