Wil Ukinix

Ukinix: Hi, I'm Lieutenant Commander Wil Ukinix. ::Smiling, wagging tail, offering butt:: Pleasure to meet you, welcome to Amity.

How do you cut down independent Briori journalist Arthur Summerside with one quip? Ask Cassian Iovianus: Glorious @Jansen Orrey

Welcome to the fleet! Congrats on passing, have fun.

I posted a sim where my PC Wil Ukinix has a grim outlook in a desperate situation, and used the song Time by Pink Floyd as inspiration, even including it IC (as part of Wil's well established eclectic collection of 20th/21st century Earth music). @Kivik brilliantly reflected the use of that piece of art in his own follow up sim for his PNPC character David Flint, an xB. This is a wonderful and unique demonstration of "yes, and"! ((Gravity Well, Type 10 Shuttle)) With the plan taking shape and time at a premium, Flint readied himself to once again exit the shuttle. He was certainly going to have to log these EVA hours properly on his record if they ever survived this hellhole. He grabbed his helmet and connected it to the neck ring of his suit, rotating it until the locking pins clicked into place. Dim lights sprung up around him, illuminating his face with an eerie pale blue glow. Flint: ::Sarcastically:: This day keeps getting better and better. Barberra(R2): It’s gonna get worse for all of us if you don’t *hurry up and get off*. ::looking at console:: Four minutes forty seconds until intercept. Ukinix: Right. Commander Ukinix began distributing the arsenal, with Flint receiving a phase rifle. He adjusted his grip on the weapon. It had been some time since he’d practiced at the range with something so large – but the principles remained the same. Point and shoot. Ukinix: Let’s get down there. Two parallel, competing priorities – welding the antenna to the hull, and disconnecting it from this shuttle so Annamae can get away. Understood? Reade: Aye, mate. We got this. Flint: Fine. Iko: ::placing on helmet:: Lets do this so we can get back home… Ukinix:: Agreed. ::To Annamae(R2):: Depressurise and open the door. Flint followed Ukinix’s glance once more to the reflection of Barberra – unsure if the Crewman was foolhardy or brave or some combination of the two. oO Probably foolhardy… Oo he told himself. Still, he did feel a pang of guilt that she would be piloting the craft and not him. It was a noble sacrifice, worthy of respect. oO Brave after all, then. Oo Ukinix: And good luck to you, Crewman Barberra. Barberra(R2): Thank you, sirs, it’s been an honour and will you just *leave*! Geez. Iko: ::putting her hands up:: We’re going, we’re going! Reade: Thank you Annamae 2. Flint: ::Opening the hatch:: Enough banter. ::Powering up the phase rifle:: Let’s go. ((USS Independence-B, Hull)) As the group descended onto the Hull of the Indy-B, David looked about cautiously. The last thing they needed was another rogue probe sailing by and ripping someone’s head off. His thoughts shifted, momentarily, to Ensign Richards. The man was lucky to be alive – though how much of him had survived was unclear to Flint. Despite his insistence on moving about he was pretty sure at least some of the Engineer had been rendered into jelly by that class six. His thoughts then twisted back to his own turn as an Ensign. A short-lived experience that had ended up with his assimilation… oO It’s a dangerous business this Starfleet thing. Oo Ukinix: =/\= We’re running out of time, how’s the antenna looking? =/\= He snapped back to the present, realizing that he should be participating in the effort to acquire the subspace antenna rather than day-dreaming about the Borg and amputations. Flint: =/\= There should be minimal damage, sir, despite everything. =/\= Reade: =/\= Still intact, proceeding to start the cutting. =/\= Flint nodded and looked expectantly towards their Commander. Iko: ::to Wil:: =/\= What’s the plan sir? =/\= Ukinix: ::Looking up at shuttle:: =/\= We’re gonna have to start severing the cables, and hope the antenna doesn’t float away. Crewman Barberra needs all the time she can get. =/\= Flint: =/\= True enough. We’ll have to work quickly but carefully. Let’s hope she can hold still while we do this.. ::to Iko:: ..and we’ll try not to cut a hole in her hull. =/\= Reade: =/\= Acknowledged. =/\= Iko: =/\= I vote we… do that. =/\= Flint smiled darkly to himself. Ukinix: ::Resuming welding:: =/\= I wish we had more time. =/\= Iko: ::shrug, jokingly:: =/\= Or we cut everything with a 20th century saw… =/\= Reade: ::turning around towards Bec:: =/\= Remind me after this, I got to show you that holo simulation of old 21st century earth tech. Iko: =/\= okay for real though, hand me a rifle. =/\= Ukinix: =/\= What? I thought you had it – ::looking down, flustered tone:: Oh Wil, you *idiot*! ::Exasperated sigh:: Sorry, Ensign, here- =/\= Flint cocked an eyebrow at the Commander’s flustered blunder. Not only had he forgotten to give their tactical officer the rifle – he had also reverted to calling he an Ensign again. It was clear that something was on his mind. oO Is it Barberra? Or something else? Oo He decided to look into Commander Ukinix’s file when – if – they made it out of the gravity well. Ukinix: =/\= OK, point that thing at the cables and sever them. ::To David:: You too, Lieutenant. =/\= Flint: =/\= My pleasure, Commander. =/\= Iko: =/\= Aye sir. =/\= Reade: =/\= In the process of welding right now as we speak. =/\= Flint took aim at one of the cables and began firing in short concentrated bursts, doing his best to avoid scorching the hull of the Type-10. Taking a momentary break, he glanced at Iko and noted her precise firing. He’d begun to wonder about her following her intense reactions earlier… now he supposed those were simply the result of overwhelming tachyon exposure. She seemed to be focused and capable now. Ukinix: =/\= @#$% here they come! Sever those cables! =/\= David turned to look in the direction Ukinix was indicating and noticed the incoming dots. Flint: =/\= Damn those things are fast. ::To Iko:: Alright, I’ll concentrate on the aft cables. You take the forward cables? =/\= Iko didn’t reply, but continued firing efficiently. David nodded and took aim once more. Reade: =/\= Oh no, there coming again. =/\= Ukinix: =/\= ::To Scotty:: Keep welding mate! Enough to keep the Antenna in place! =/\= The two phaser-wielding officers paused a moment as the Type-10 banked. David wished they could communicate with Barberra in the shuttle. He couldn’t imagine the agonizing wait that she had to endure as they cut away and welded below out of comms. As the shuttle settled, they resumed firing. Flint: =/\= ::To Reade and Ukinix:: We’re nearly there with the cables, gentlemen. Hopefully you’ve got that thing secured back there… =/\= Reade: =/\= Aye mate. =/\= Ukinix: ::Moving to new spot and beginning welding:: =/\= Quick, Scotty, quick! =/\= Reade: =/\= Almost done. =/\= The subspace antenna momentarily raised a little again, then lowered, as the almost untethered Type-10 spun in it’s X-axis, pointing away from the direction of the incoming probes in a seeming attempt to get ready for a getaway. Reade: =/\= Thats the best I can do. =/\= Ukinix: =/\= It’s gonna have to do! Just keep going! =/\= David didn’t look back to see what they were talking about and just continued firing. They were nearly through all the cables. Flint: =/\= Last one aft. Iko, how’s forward? =/\= Iko: =/\= ::more… klingon-y than normal:: Last one. =/\= Ukinix: =/\= C’mon! Break you stupid cable- =/\= Iko: =/\= ::slightly more normal, but still serious voice:: We did it. =/\= With the Commander’s spurning, the last cables gave way and the shuttle was freed. Immediately the shuttle started accelerating away from them and the probes. Flint looked overhead and watched with bated breath as the probes closed at a rate exceeding the shuttle’s acceleration. Flint: =/\= Come on, Barberra, give it some welly! =/\= One of the dots caught up to the Type-10 dot, and they touched. It wasn’t long before a small line of vented plasma formed a straight line behind the dot. A probe had hit Barberra(R2)’s shuttle, how bad was anyone’s guess given the distance it was from them now. oO Damn! Oo Ukinix: =/\= Nooooooo! Not another one! =/\= oO Hang on… Oo Surprisingly, the Type-10 dot seemed to regain speed and once again led nine smaller dots behind it away. A tenth dot, the probe that must have impacted the Type-10 shuttle, sped off at a completely different angle. Ikoa and Flint lowered their rifles as the dots continued fading into the distance, eventually merging into one single speck of distant light and then, at last, into indiscernibility. Flint: ::Turning back towards the group:: =/\= That could’ve gone worse. =/\= Iko: =/\= ::normal voice:: Wil? =/\= Reade: =/\= Hope she gets away.=/\= Ukinix: =/\= ::Glumly:: I hope she’s okay. ::Quietly quoting line from a song in his collection:: “Shorter of breath, and one day closer to death.” =/\= David nodded in recognition. Time was a classical song from his homeland, a twentieth century piece by the group Pink Floyd, whose melancholy reflections on existence oft reflected David’s own. After a brief pause, he turned to his compatriots and followed up with his own - slightly-adjusted - quote from the piece. Flint: =/\= Hanging on in quiet desperation is the human way. Let’s get back to it. =/\= Iko: =/\= Come on, we got work to do. =/\= Reade: =/\= Think positive mate. =/\= Looking back at the roughly-affixed antenna, Commander Ukinix sighed. David felt his exhaustion, his own body aching and begging for a rest. But their work was not quite finished yet. Ukinix: =/\= ::Sigh:: Alright. Let’s not make whatever Crewman Barberra’s fate is in vain. We have the secondary antenna, let’s begin interfacing it with our primary antenna that’s inside the hull. =/\= Reade: =/\= Shall we go back in? =/\= As they headed towards an airlock, David took one last look back into the black behind them. As he looked into the nothingness he felt a welling of dread. Another lyric from the song ran through his mind. oO You are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today / And then one day you find ten years have got behind you… Oo Life was a such fickle and fleeting thing and time the ever-inflating currency with which it could be bought. Ten years had been taken from him by the Borg. He would be damned if this gravity well would take any more of it. END ACT 2 for FLINT == Lt. JG David Flint (he/him) Helm Officer, Amity Outpost Character Wiki Page V239806K11 -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Amity Outpost – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to sb118-amity+unsubscribe@googlegroups.com. To view this discussion on the web visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/sb118-amity/CAE6LJtE2ZwDNEaM1z5O7KiSyQn5dH%3DzifTjmevYcFCTXwjjFHw%40mail.gmail.com.

Because Lt Cmdr Wil Ukinix is unlucky in love, his second cousin First Secretary Keehani Ukinix from the diplomatic corp has volunteered to be his +1, much to his "delight" Commentator: Keehani Ukinix is wearing a lovely red handmade outfit from the "Thorns of Betazed" collection by controversial Betazoid designer Nemivi Mex, while Wil Ukinix is wearing a suit and tie sourced from replicator CC3-12-A, Amity Outpost.

Sparks, explosions, smoke, and anomalies. From reading this sim, you can feel the stress of the situation. A fantastic read @Hannibal Parker ! (( Bridge- USS Independence B )) Gamma shift. The dark of ships' night. It was a time for junior officers to take the big chair on what should be a fairly routine evolution. However, it was also the time for a Second Officer to brush up on his bridge quals, and John had no problem with the lack of sleep associated with taking the center seat of the Defiant Class starship during this period. Probing the depths of space in advance of the USS Kitty Hawk, the Indy B was closing in on a phenomena known as the Barossa Nebula, her powerful warp engines bringing them ever closer. Sure, the mission was routine, according to Wil, but routine was relative. On the viewscreen, the purplish hues of the nebula were drawing ever closer. At the helm, Jaygee Flint was piloting the Indy B with skill and it seemed a great deal of joy. It was like watching a virtuoso sing not for adolation, but because they loved it so much. John spoke... Carter: Mister Flint...ships' status... Flint: Everything appears optimal, Commander. ::Gesturing at the purple field ahead on the viewscreen:: With your permission, Sir. This was what being out here was all about. Exploration, expanding our knowledge and forging a path for those who would follow. With a hint of pride in his voice, John spoke... Carter: Take us in, Mister Flint... Orrey: Response Flint: Taking us in. The view on the screen changed as the ship gracefully swung to port, the purple from the nebula undulating with deep patches and lighter ones as the ship moved in. The view was mesmerizing, hypnotic, beautiful. John sat back in the center seat, internally whistling to himself. John spoke... Carter: Beautiful, isn't it? Orrey: response He was getting ready to speak again when the Indy seemingly dropped out from under them, then pitched up violently. Alarms began whooping on the bridge, and he could feel the heat from something exploding behind him... Carter:=/\= Red Alert! Captain Ukinix to the bridge!=/\= Orrey: response Carter: Mister Flint! What have you got? Flint: It’s that anomaly, Sir. It appears to be expanding. It’s… some sort of gravity well. That wasn't a good thing. A bad one could tear even this ship apart in minutes. The ship began to dip forward according to the viewscreen. If they began to tumble, it could be lights out for all of them. John spoke... Carter: Flint! Get her nose up! Orrey: response Flint: Attempting to compensate. Might get a bit rocky... That was an understatement. The engines roared with power as they fought against the forces trying to pull them in. Looking at the status on his PADD, things were getting worse, not better... Carter: Structural integrity is getting critical! Orrey: response Flint: If we continue trying to escape, Sir, the ship will be torn in half by these tidal forces. I have to power the engines down or we will lose the ship… Flint was right. The readouts were telling him the same thing. He had no time to ponder a decision, no room to consider alternatives. Right or wrong, John made his decision... Carter: Shut them down, Mister Flint. Use the thrusters to try to keep us level. Orrey: response With the warp engines shut down, the Indy bucked forward, with Flint fighting to keep her on an even keel, although an even keel was not the main thing for the moment as the anomaly pulled them in deeper, the viewscreen becoming grainy and full of static, Over the din of alarms, Flint spoke... Flint: Recommend we alert the crew to brace for... Flint was cut off by a series of explosions which rocked the Indy, setting off another group of alarms. In front of him, Flint was dealing with a small fire, and behind John he was feeling sparks run down his neck. To make matters worse, John was thrown against the overhead, and he heard the unmistakable sound of an emergency bulkhead closing...they were effectively trapped on the bridge, but so far the only good news was they still had life support, but the only question was...for how long? And what about the rest of the ship? Pushing himself off the overhead, John slammed into the command chair and grabbed a handhold...the only question was staying in it in zero gee. The bridge had gone dark, with most of the consoles now showing red through the smoke. They were still alive, but they were in serious trouble. A few long seconds later, auxiliary lighting came on, tinged in red, but at least he knew some systems were still online, despite physically the bridge being cut off from the rest of the ship. John spoke... Carter: Status report! Orrey: response Flint: I’m afraid… we’re trapped. Carter: In more ways than one. We're trapped on the bridge, trapped in this anomaly, not knowing what the ships' current status is, which we need to know yesterday. Orrey: response A grey viewscreen greeted his eye forward. They at least wanted to see where the hell they were. Maybe the Kitty Hawk saw them and was on her way. That maybe so, but John had to operate as though they were on their own and they had to save themselves. John spoke... Carter: David...can you get that screen on? Flint had managed to secure himself to the helm, and through the smoke, he managed to get the viewscreen operable...and what they all saw made John think he was seeing things, but he wasn't. On the viewscreen before him, there were literally hundreds of Independence B's...all identical, all lifeless, all helpless. Just as they were. Carter: I'm be damned... Orrey: response Flint: response Carter: Hail them... Orrey: response No answer. Not good. Perhaps they were more damaged than he figured. John spoke... Carter: Allright. I need a full damage report Mister Flint. I need to know how badly we're hurt, and...whether there are survivors other than here, since internal sensors seem to be off line for the moment. Orrey: response Carter: Damage Control 101. Save the ship. Save the plant. Save the crew. Damage control had been a mantra since the United States Navy days. Sure the systems were more complex, but the basics were still the same. Once he knew how bad they were hurt, the better he could respond... Orrey: response Flint: response TAG/TBC Lt. Commander John Marcus Carter First Officer/ Chief Counselor USS Independence B C238703HP0

A piece of countering, profanity brilliance from @Kivik

@Kivik from now on shall be named the Vulcan whisperer.

Congratulations @Vurdal ! Welcome back.

Amity. The Federation's first nudist colony @Kivik

Beware of Australians bearing donuts. (Hilarious stuff @Rahman and Rivi Vataix !)

The emotions described in this sim are outstanding - not only from a feelings, but also a sensing perspective. Well done @Zhanyt Lafizatar and @Kivik . ((Lighthouse Restaurant – 3 hours and 30 minutes until midnight)) Ceciri had decided to attend the party, although she had already done her traditional end of year celebrations in one of the shared-religious spaces. When in Rome, and all that. She was dressed conservatively for her, but still in an interesting style for her. Her deep violet dress was actually cut to expose a good deal of her chest, but not a lot of it, as it was a diagonal cut from her right shoulder to her left upper chest, and was considered in style for some of the betazoids, and if it wasnt’ for the tail cut she had to do in the dress - carefully - and her cat like ears, she could have probably have bled into the small but growing crowd in some of the diplomatic and civil circles. .oO One day I’ll understand fashion. Oo. Ceciri snorted, finding that unlikely. She was too busy working on her doctorate - she found Planetary Terraforming fascinating -, being a Starfleet Offficer, and honestly, she liked her life. A life that was somewhat disrupted at the moment. Still.. .oO Standing and falling backwards never solved anything Oo. Ceciri nodded to herself, and was waiting for her “date” here. Across the room, leaning against the bar, stood Tri’lea. She wore her poise much like she wore her dress, with much practice but little comfort. The glass in her hand held a simple, yet perfect martini - a half ounce of dry vermouth and 2 ounces of gin balanced with the sweet intensity of a lemon twist. Strong, bitter, and just a little sweet. She smiled at the thought that it somewhat reflected herself and wondered what sort of [...]tail Ceciri k’Ariadust would be… oO Some sort of ritual wine.. Oo she mused. It felt as if she were compelled to drink, whether she liked to or not, as the result of some unfair tradition and the comparison seemed apt enough to amuse her. She watched her quarry from across the room and took a sip from the martini. Tri’lea’s plus one - her attaché, Rei - was already mingling with the crowd as she’d been instructed. Her role tonight would be to meet some of the station’s senior staff, learn names, make connections. Tri’lea only cared about one connection that evening. Already she found herself assessing what she saw before her. The picture she had been provided of Ariadust was clearly outdated. In fact, the woman before her in the violet dress was hardly recognisable to her - a disappointment. She was far less.. delicate.. than Tri’lea had been expecting. Perhaps Starfleet had toughened her up, though somehow the Betazoid noble doubted it. According to what little she knew of the woman, she had grown up working on merchant vessels following her mother’s exile. Tri’lea couldn’t imagine that life had been any easier. She slipped away from the bar and made her way across the crowded room, keeping her eyes locked on Ceciri. She felt a little silly, like some sort of shark honing in on her prey. It wouldn’t do to spring the news on the poor girl without making some sort of introduction first - but for whatever reason Tri’lea felt compelled not to show herself immediately, not to walk up. It just wasn’t her way. Instead, she walked elegantly behind the woman through the party, watching her movements, wondering at her imperceptible thoughts, until at last she could take it no longer. Polgonz: Ceciri k’Ariadust? Ceciri internally stiffened, but with some effort - some well learnt effort - kept it from more than a few micro movements, turning around to face the other woman - Betazoid, if she was any judge. Some interesting hints in bearing. Not enough for her to judge, but honestly, if she was asked now, she’d say that she was talking to a Betazed Noble. If anything, she had used the honorific in her name, the one that Ceciri had intentionally dropped years ago when she joined Starfleet. Ariadust: That would be me. I don’t.. recall meeting you, but have we met and I just forgot? Depressingly likely, given how many places Ceciri had been in her youth. When she had first laid eyes on Ariadust, Tri’lea had attributed her inability to sense the Cygnian’s thoughts and feelings to the liveliness of the party around them. As she had grown closer, she began to realize that the woman’s thoughts weren’t being drowned out - they were concealed. A fact that she found both intriguing and disconcerting. Nonetheless, she would have to rely on Ariadust’s body language to tell her how she felt; She seemed tense. Polgonz: My name is Tri’lea Doyoxo Polgonz… We won’t have met before - but I do know you in a way. That tiny alarm bell was joined by an entire chorus. Most people who knew indirectly of her would have done so through her family, and with a very dead mother.. Well, Ceciri rather hoped it was for her papers and work on New Galway. Besides, her date had already wandered off anyway. Ariadust: Oh? Polgonz: Yes. My mother and your Great Aunt were acquainted through business. Ceciri’s alarm bells were instantly upgraded to red alert sirens. But still, she smiled a bit. She didn’t, for a second, believe this wasn’t also aimed at her, but she sipped her martini with a thought and turned to fully face Tri’lea. Ariadust: Ah, I see. ::Ceciri knew a bit to know that her Great Aunt did very limited direct business, leaving that in the hands of her many daughters. Mental tick up on noble, that.:: Pleased to meet you then. You must be a Daughter of a House? Polgonz: ::Tri’leas smile wavered, for an instant:: Daughter Ascendant. My mother, Idrustix Doyoxo Polgonz, was a Daughter of the Twentieth House of Betazed. I’d not be surprised, nor insulted, to hear that you weren’t aware of us. There are many, even on Betazed, who know or care little about the House of Travelers. oO For now. Oo She sipped her martini again and looked across the room to the other end of the party. Ceciri did, actually. She had even worked for one very briefly when her aunt was the lead of a convoy to a Betazed colony world. Still, the Daughter Ascendant? Ariadust: I’ve worked with your House before. Colony world of Shining Compassion, I think. ::Ceciri was a bit too direct there, since that was just a Cygnian thing to name their colony worlds after phrases, and a Betazed thing to name them after .. actually, if someone ever explained it to her, she’d understand then.:: I’m not surprised you would be out here.. :: Ceciri smiles a bit at the nebula, before turning back to Tri’lea.:: It would be a good thing to expand out here where far fewer species are arguing in the Assembly about colonies, and.. Well, if the Federation wants to have an actual foothold.. Tri’lea smirked. An enigmatic smile. oO At least she is not aloof. Oo Used to communicating with other Betazoids, she actually found it quaint and relaxing to converse with someone who could not read her own mind. Given her upbringing, Tri’lea had no interest in lying to Ceciri - but she also knew that it could ease the news she was bringing to conceal the details until they had gotten to know one another a little more. Or at least she hoped so. There was no need for any unnecessary unpleasantness. Polgonz: You’re not wrong. I’m visiting for a few reasons, all to do with family priorities. We are called both to attend Betazed and people the stars. I also wanted to meet you. .oo We. Oo. Ceciri was very unsurprised at that. After all, if this was just yet another ‘please meet our noble daughter, oh unmarried prospect of the Ariadust clan’, it would be in the thousands. However.. Amity Outpost was months away. You don’t idly go that far without some motive, and she also noted that Tri’lea was being far too indirect. .oO Goddesses above and below, I hope this isn’t what I think it is. Oo. Ceciri had been warned that the telepathic suppressant she took wasn’t perfect - very strong emotion would begin to burn through it, and right now it was taking a bit of mental effort to keep from broadcasting or even emitting the anxiousness she was feeling. Also, she was beginning to wish she had worn a slightly less revealing dress, but she could name the last time she dressed up for anything. It was several years ago, in New Galway, when the ecosystem work was done. Ariadust: I am honored that you would think me interesting. :: she smiled a bit.:: Or at least worthy of note. I’m still working on earning renown of my own. Traditional Cygnians, and Ceciri counted herself as one of them, wished to be known for something. Ceciri had a bit of a black mark on her record - her mother being an attempted mass murdering terrorist didn’t help - but also, she remembed her other mother. And she wanted to be worthy of that legacy, of the ideas she was taught when she was a little girl. And if nothing else, it was a great diversion in her mind. That’s what the therapists said, anyway. Channel the pain and doubt into something useful. Polgonz: oO Daughter of an exiled noble family. Merchant pilot turned Starfleet Lieutenant. Oo Oh yes, you strike me as an interesting person. oO Or at least, I hope to the Four Deities that you are.. Oo Are you here with anyone? ::Looking about, casually:: Ariadust: Ah.. no. I did come here with someone, but it was so she could try and get in with one of the Andorian zhens in the growing civil sector. Personally, I wish she’d go for it if only so they’d both stop moping, from what I understand. ::Ceciri’s smile turns a bit wry:: Polgonz: I see. ::Telepathically, to Rei:: ~~You can stop distracting the Andorian, Rei.~~ ::Back to Ariadust:: I’m not familiar with Andorian courtship customs. Betazoid customs offer plenty of complication on their own. Spoken with a hint of laughter, but it was certainly true - oO And more relevant than she likely realizes… Oo Ceciri had to think about that a second - she only knew one personally, and the other from when she’d show up to watch sessions. Ariadust: ::shrugs:: Only the flower’s bloom reveals it’s fate. But as the Earthers say, it’s the beginning of a new year, and I imagine that’s audacious for all sorts of endeavors, and it’s rather.. ::Ceciri felt for a word:: .. intriguing how much culture Earth has pushed into the Federation. .oO And somewhat surprising if you were sheltered like I was from the larger Federation. Oo. Ceciri also rather hoped the other woman would get closer to the point. Polgonz: Indeed. Our traditions may complicate things at times, but I believe we still have an obligation to pay them respect. We can share the stars with our allies and still maintain our identities. I imagine you feel similarly about your own culture… Tri’lea sensed that it was time. Ariadust seemed to be getting restless with the surface-level conversation, and in truth, so was Tri’lea. Polgonz: While we’re on the subject of traditions and.. obligations.. there is another reason for my visiting. oO And for speaking with you. Oo I’m not sure there’s a sensitive way to share this, but perhaps you will appreciate it best reading the agreed-upon words written by your Great Aunt and my Mother. At that, Tri’lea reached into her handbag and removed the letter destined for Ceciri. It was written by hand on paper – her mother had insisted on that, she was sure – and officially sealed. Tri’lea, of course, had received her own copy of the very the same agreement, written by her late mother, now sealed in her private desk drawer. She had not laid eyes on it since she had first read it. It simply brought out too much frustration. Ceciri nodded, ears twitching as she smilingly accepted the letter. .oO Please let this not be what I think it is. Oo. Ariadust: Thank you. Ceciri looked at the letter - Salthian parchment, no less. Well known for more high class uses across the Beta Quadrant. She recognized the characteristic writing of her great aunt in the prescript, and took a deep sigh as her pale blue eyes scanned the document Under the glow of the Mother of the Fairies, and in Their Glory, And for the Glen of Our Honour Affixed, this date of 2398-6-12 in the Common Era, The Five Hundreath And Seventh Cycle of the Ascendant Fairies I, Talichia z’Ariadust, Dame of the Roaring Icefires, Councilwoman of Cygnet And I, Idrustix Doyoxo Polgonz, Daughter of the Twentieth House of Betazed Do Agree that our daughters Ceciri Salriaoni k’Ariadust, daughter of Fairioni Ariadust And Tri’lea Doyoxo Polgonz, Daughter Ascendant Are to be Wed In a period not exceeding One Cycle of the Ascendant Fairies, and before the common year 2401. Ceciri stared. And stared again. If she hadn’t known about the failing of the telepathic suppressant, she would have known now, as the rising anger-rage-despair was beginning to manifest as a very pungent ashy taste. And she rather suspected, given some of the looks she was drawing, that the other empaths in the room were beginning to detect it. However, all of that was superfluous. Even as her emotions began to erupt, she politely handed the letter back to the other woman, and put her hand on the reenforced railing they were near and inadvertently snapped it when she clenched her fist. Her anger-despair-bonedeep pain was still flowing, but then again, you’d hope so, given that her deep blue blood was beginning to pool around her clenched fist. You need that salrenaline to not notice blood, after all. Then, with a supreme effort, she clamped down on it, putting up what fragile mental shields she could to stop emitting it. No point in making other people uncomfortable at a party. Ariadust: ::Very weakly:: Well. That’s a letter. Tri’lea had expected Ariadust to be upset - angry even. She, herself, had felt indignant outrage when she had read her own copy of the letter. Arranged marriages were nothing unfamiliar to a Daughter of a Royal House of Betazed. Only that was just it. Tri’lea was not yet a Daughter of the Twentieth House, only a Daughter Ascendant - and her ascension came with conditions. Her mother was forcing this marriage and that was something she couldn’t excuse. Nonetheless, if she wanted to take her proper place, then this hoop required leaping through. She had not, however, expected such a reaction. The Cygnian woman looked different from her picture, but more than that - she was different. Her feelings had broken through whatever guard she had put in place, and Tri’lea found herself awash with Ariadust’s emotional outburst. She had steeled herself against anger, but was entirely caught off guard by her destruction of the railing. Wide-eyed, Tri’lea stared at the blood running from Ariadust’s hand - but her pragmatic Polgonz instincts wouldn’t let her gawk for long. Polgonz: ~~Rei, Lady k’Ariadust is injured. Fetch a medical officer, if you can – quietly.~~ She shot her attendant a sharp look, to reiterate the urgency of the matter. Polgonz: ::To Ariadust:: I understand your anger. This arrangement is.. well, let’s leave it at that for now. May I see your hand? Tri’lea was no field medic, but any proud member of the House of Travellers would count it as a grave character flaw to find themselves entirely helpless in any situation. Ariadust: ::distractedly:: Why do you need to see it? Ceciri was trying to get herself under control a bit, and she was still very upset over sections of that letter. Polgonz: You’re hurt. Ariadust: Oh. ::Ceciri looked at her hand, unclenching it to see slivers and deep cuts in it.:: So I am. ::Distantly, a part of her mind was yelling at her that she was going to feel all of this once the salrenaline wore off.:: Polgonz: This isn’t going to mend itself. I understand that our meeting has been under unusually straining circumstances - but please, let me help you. Ceciri nodded. She was fairly qualified for some field medicine courses, but was .. probably not in the right mind to administer it to herself at the moment. And as angry as she was at her great aunt, she wasn’t really angry at the other woman. If her luck was any guide, that’d come later. .oO I really should cultivate a more optimistic look at life. Oo. Ceciri thought to herself. She was beginning to get back under control, but - and most distressingly, as she tried to drink something to wash the taste of burning ash out of her mouth - her suppressant was thoroughly shot and she could taste the mixed emotions of the party, which felt like nine delicious dishes poured into a swamp, mixed thoroughly, and served. She also felt worry, which she had actually managed to describe once as a tangy-pepper feel with an afterfeel of a cold breeze dancing on her neck. It wasn’t even a good tangy-pepper feel, so she rather disliked it when people worried about her. Tri’lea could sense the shift in Ceciri’s distress. It was as if she were speaking with… well, with a child who had not yet learned to control her abilities. She seemed overwhelmed by her own emotions - and the thoughts and feelings of those around her at the party. Rei approached with a disquieted look on her face at the sight of Ariadust’s injured hand. Rei: ~~The Chief Medical Officer is in attendance, Daughter Ascendant.~~ Tri’lea: Hold the formalities please, Rei - and let’s speak aloud, for her sake. ::To Ariadust:: Will you come with us? We can get your hand tended to. Ceciri nodded, nodding her thanks at switching from telepathy to normal conversation. She wasn’t entirely looking forward to explaining this to Wong - sometimes she wondered at the energy of that man. Also, even she could hear him. He was exuberant in his emotions as he was in life, and she could feel the headache coming on. Would kinda wish that she would be treated as an adult, but then again.. Ceciri’s hand was bleeding pretty heavily. Tri’lea felt Ceciri’s hand in hers and, looking down at it, wondered at what an omen the bloodied mess might be. At the moment, the two of them were locked into a future neither of them had planned. One which would strain their loyalties to their family and tradition as well as to their own independence. She hoped that, in time, the situation could be mended - like Ariadust’s hand could be mended. But if that were happen, and they were to get along, much would need to change. Ariadust:Would make sense. I’d rather not wait for it to clot to stop bleeding. Tri’lea: Then let’s find the Chief Medical Officer and get you looked after, shall we? oO Four Deities watch over me. I hadn’t realized this hoop would be set on fire before I had to jump through it… Oo Ariadust: I can feel the headache already. ::dryly:: But let’s. I’ll have to file a report, anyway, as I’m pretty sure the prospector is going to take exception to me breaking her railing. Hopefully not to the point of banning me. I’d like to come back and see the countdown tonight... Lt. Ceciri Ariadust Helm Officer Amity Outpost C239112CA0 and Tri'lea Doyoxo Polgonz Daughter Ascendant, Twentieth House of Betazed V239806K11

This made me laugh @Jansen Orrey! I can't wait to see "To Be Determined" as a direct quote in Arthur Summerside's next news article @Kivik !

::Fingerguns:: "I'll make you famous."

Jalya Petras is not one to be messed with!

There was a plan at the start of our "Fissure" Veritas mission to have Kinan Venroe, written by @Blake, Tristam Core, as the love interest for Wil Ukinix. At the end of the mission, they finally got to spend some time together. The sentiment of this sim is beautiful and heart warming. ((Officer's Mess)) Kinan: What are we doing, Wil? Soon, Veritas would go in for a refit. It may be up to Kinan where Lt Commander Ukinix ended up next. That was Kinan's job: personnel officer. When resources were assigned to the Shoals, she forwarded them to where they needed them. She had two ships worth of people she had to arrange, and she wasn't sure whether Veritas' current crew would be part of that list. Ukinix: Um- ::pondering, before gesturing to bottle:: We’re drinking wine? I’m clearly flirting with you- Kinan: Work gets in the way of these things. You are amazing. you are talented, you're sweet, funny and just... you. ::she sighs:: I usually need to be five steps ahead of... everything. I guess I need... a name for what this is. Ukinix: ::more pondering, slight blush:: - it’s an impromptu date. I was looking forward to catching up with you and then, you know, that whole mine collapse thing happened. I mean, I dunno, are you ::squinting eyes slightly:: okay with that? She twirls her glass a little, referring to her symbiont. Kinan:: :with a smile:: Venroe's lived three half-lifetimes, including my own. You'd think with all that language, I'd be able to define things on my own. ::pause:: Venroe hasn't met someone like you before, though. I think that's special. Once again, Wil chuckled quietly. Ukinix: Flattery will get you everywhere. Both of you. ::Slight squint:: Wait, what’d I just say? He leaned forward, pouring more wine into her glass. She responded with a coy smile. Kinan: Nothing I haven't asked myself. Ukinix: I’m not good at expressing myself sometimes, I’ll be honest and say that I get tied up in knots when I get interested in someone, and even more so when they are interested in me. That’s my way of saying I like you. Kinan's eyes sparkle. Kinan: That's a good way. Ukinix: I know nothing is certain in Starfleet. Veritas is going to need a refit, who knows where I’m going to end up, maybe out of The Shoals. You know that better than I do. Wil held out his hand to Kinan... and she takes it. Ukinix: I just witnessed 20-odd miners and two of my fellow crewmates being rescued out of a kilometres deep mine. 5 people down there didn’t make it. ::Chewing bottom lip for a moment:: We shouldn’t let Starfleet get in the way of living our life. ::Slight smile:: Or lives in your case. oO I don't want to say no. Oo Venroe's experience lived in the background. It was a long life, with experiences of love, curiosity, tradegy, and a little more. The point was to continue experiencing, with all the complications life brought. It wasn't that Kinan had been hiding from that -- not really. But she had expected life to repeat itself. Seated across from her was an anomaly of a man, unlike whoever she'd met before. That was special. With her other hand, Kinan brings her glass up and taps it against his. Kinan: To living life, with pleasant company. And to many more dates in future. END. LtCmdr Kinan Venroe Personnel Officer Cait Spacedock C238803SB0

A very "formal" Wil rocking up in typical red carpet attire - jacket, casual pants and a back to front Bowie t-shirt.

So you wanted "Top Gun meets Klingons"? Well, thanks to the talented @Antero Flynn, you've got it! (Cue 80's slow guitar riff...) (( Outside the Main Administration Building, Klingon Colony VoqmoH'tuq )) Antero stood with his arms crossed as he watched toward where he expected an arrival from their greeting party. He wore a pair of shades called aviators that he had heard were quite common with ancient Earth pilots. The Risian was pretty sure he looked super cool, but he knew asking would ruin it. Either way, he was grateful for the shading against the bright day. Kelrod: They could have anticipated our arrival. Think they're looking at us to check what they're dealing with? Parker: I was told for us to meet them here. They will come, and they will be on time. Flynn: You seem pretty confident. Turned out Parker knew what he was talking about as before he answered they were met by two Klingons. He didn’t get a good read on the male, as his eyes lingered a little too long over the top of his shades to the woman at his side. K’Jul: Welcome to VoqmoH’tug I am Commander K’jul, son of Mo’tuk and this is Commander Ch’otonn Bagorgh Parker: I am Lieutenant Commander Hannibal Tiberious Parker, son of Ryland. Lafizatar: I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Zhanyt Lafizatar. Vanlith: I am Lieutenant Charlena Vanlith, adopted sister of G’var. Kelrod: Commander Kelrod Flynn: ::With a bob of the head.:: Lieutenant Commander Antero Flynn, at your service. He didn’t bother with declaring the name of any of his family, that wasn’t his culture. Not that he had any they would recognize anyway. Besides, he wasn’t particularly proud to represent his father. The reverse was certainly true. Bagorgh: And I am Commander Ch'otonn Bagorgh. ::Staring at Parker:: Proud daughter of ::slight sneer:: Qo'noS. K’Jul: yIvoq'a'! yo' qIj buSmeH mIw woQlu'jaj! (OOC Translation: Be silent! Show respect to our guests and allies!) Kelrod: We're here for a purpose, we don't want anything to disrupt our orders. Bagorgh: The Klingon Empire has become as useless as a blunt Bat’leth. That is why we seek assistance from Federation’s Starfleet. ::Sarcastically:: Two blunt Bat’leth’s are better than one, yes? K’Jul: Perhaps.:: looking directly at Bagorgh:: but a blunt Bat’leth can be sharpened, or broken:: smiling wickedly:: and you have already been broken… Bagorgh: ::To K’Jul:: veQ jay’! (OOC: Translation – “garbage” expressed in strong terms) K’Jul: QaDchoHpa' tlhoS Wa'DIch. ( OOC: Translation: Crap always floats to the surface of the latrine.) The Risian only found himself smirking at the Klingon exchange. He had been around them before and didn’t find the behavior terribly unusual or disarming. In fact he found himself a little enamored with Bagorgh and her...spirit. Bagorgh: ::Gesturing:: Come. We have much to discuss about the logistics of the prisoner transport. Striding down the corridor with the others, he soon found himself in direct eye contact with Bagorgh. Bagorgh: ::To Flynn, slight seductive smile:: Your smooth forehead is made slightly more attractive by your Ja'risia, Lieutenant Commander. Flynn: oO The shades DO work for me! Oo He took off his sunglasses and cooly slid them into his collar before responding. Flynn: ::A sly smile.:: If you like my forehead, wait until you see…Erm ::He was suddenly very aware of the eyes of his team.:: My work ethic... Parker: Commander…we all have attributes which make us unique…like your forehead ridges, for example. Kelrod: Or a good left hand to deal with adversities. Flynn: ::Pointing to Kelrod.:: This guy is on to something. K’Jul: A shared victory is a noble victory. It is that philosophy which allowed us to defeat the Dominion. Something some Klingons fail to understand… The fierce and...exotic woman ignored the comment as they were led into a large room with various Klingon decor. He wasn’t sure entirely what each symbol represented, but recognized the crests of a couple of ruling houses he had encountered during his time on Starbase 118. In the middle of the table, a bowl of wriggling, jiggling, jiving and grooving pile of Gagh. The Risian frowned as Parker happily grabbed a handful and shoved it back. Antero was not so eager as he hesitantly picked up a single fellow and gave it a little nibble. Parker: Commanders…certainly you do not serve this excellent Gagh without bloodwine…and I’m afraid there is not enough Gagh for everyone… That prompted a look from the pilot that said “Seriously, dude?!” Lafizatar: ::diffidentally:: Not an issue, the chirality of Gagh prevents Mathenites from consuming it. Or bloodwine. Or.. a number of things, regretfully. Flynn: ::Scowling.:: oO Lucky...Oo Vanlith: ::Taking a handful herself:: it would be a shame if those of us who could consume this did not have the opportunity. Kelrod: I might join you, but if this is the first, it's been some time since I've had a heart of Targ. Flynn: oO Suck ups...Oo Antero could respect the effort of his crewmates, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Klingons served this food just because they knew that Starfleet would lap up anything put in front of them in the name of diplomacy. He watched their hosts faces with squinted eyes at any sign of giggling as he chewed his gummy worm. Bagorgh: It is not a problem. We have plenty to go around. The mech ghlq supplies the best Gagh outside of Qo'noS itself. ::To Zhanyt:: It is unfortunate that you cannot sample the best food and drink in the entire galaxy. Parker/K'Jul: response Antero leaned back and watched the conversation continue, nibbling distastefully as he wondered if there was any chance of a Klingon brawl. Maybe someone would get mad and flip the table, he brightened at the thought of all that Gagh going to waste. Lafizatar: It is not up to me to dictate the hand dealt to me, but merely how I play it. It would be disrespectful for me to request special treatment when I am the only species in the room who would require it. So I did not. Kelrod: All great powers that have different species have to learn each ones limitations. For example, I'm quite fond of Chech'tluth, while others can't stand it. Flynn: Ooh! That I recognize! ::He shook his head.:: I don’t care for it… Being a drink flinger on Risa came with knowledge of beverages from far and wide, from delicious to potentially deadly. Chech’tluth was not one that Antero would put in either category, but it did make him wonder what a dinner party hosted by Kelrod would be like. Bagorgh: That is true. If it were not for a former warrior under my command named Broral, I would never have realised the delight of the Earth food “burrito”. But, while K’Jul would have you believe he enjoys shared victory, I wonder if he is suvwI' enough to eat a mouth full of spicy jalapenos. (OOC: suvwI' = Warrior) Parker/K'Jul: response Kelrod: Might I be so bold as to ask about what you have in mind for the convoy? After all, you have more experience in this part of the Shoals. K'Jul: Response Kelrod: What kind of ships are we talking about? And how many? K'Jul: Response Bagorgh: And my ship, the IKS T'Kuvma. It is a K't'inga class and almost a relic of T’Kuvma’s time. But, we have refurbished it as best we can. Our resources are limited, the area of space you call “The Shoals” is not the highest priority for the Klingon Empire. Antero perked up at that. The Bird of Prey had always been a model that fascinated the helmsman. So sleek and maneuverable, their style so striking and sublime. He had always wanted to fly one. Vanlith/Parker/Lafizatar: Response Bagorgh: Qlbmey’, the area you call “The Shadows”, has seen high activity from pirates and criminals, and they can strike at any moment. They are opportunistic, and will not hesitate to attack. Even at our fearsome warships. But, your Captain Rahman and your Veritas has a reputation, they will think twice. I do guarantee though that if battle should occur, ::slight smirk:: K’Jul’s ship will be the first to expire. K’Jul: Response Bagorgh: ::To K’Jul:: bIHnuch jay’! (OOC: Coward in strong terms) Antero Flynn was a social creature. Many times he had been told of the folly of many nights spent partying with various species in various locales, but he had learned a lot about the social intricacies of many races in that time. As for those in the mighty Klingon empire, it was his experience that they valued a bit of ribbing and good natured banter far more than careful etiquette. This encounter was reinforcing that. Flynn: I’m certain I could do quite a bit to help with maneuvering controls and guidance layouts. ::He sat himself on an unclaimed corner of the table and rested an elbow on his knee as he chewed up a final bite of gagh like a piece of gum.:: But of course the real question is, do your Klingon pilots have what it takes to fly at the same level as a Risian? Bagorgh/K’Jul: Response Parker/Kelrod/Lafizatar/Vanlith: Response Flynn: Well. ::A quick wink to Bagorgh.:: Just want to make sure my prowess isn’t too much to keep up with. Bagorgh/K’Jul: Response Parker/Kelrod/Lafizatar/Vanlith: Response At that the Risian smiled, feeling fully aware that he was probably biting off way more than he could chew. Still - He liked the cut of her jib almost as much as the cut of her outfit... Lt. Cmdr. Antero Flynn Helm Officer USS Veritas C239205AF0

Teamwork, @Sophie290999 !

Three Betazoids walk into a turbolift. You think one of them would have sensed it.

This year's Veritas theme is funko pop figures. Collect them all!

I was wondering what that smell was @Antero Flynn

...and just from reading it you can see poor Blake doing that!