Alieth

Ok this is a hell of mental image, thanks Lox @Hutch , i hate It 🤣

@Jo Marshall's Kero Rix is a joy to read 🤣

The scene was so DRAMATIC and suddenly this sentence has pulled a guffaw out of me, thanks @Quinn Reynolds

Woho! Congratulations and welcome to the fleet! Hope you have the best time here!

@Tahna Meru always know the coolest courses in the academy 😂

I think we've broken Cory a little bit! Still, a good rendition of failure and defeat, good job mate! @Cory Stoyer ((Engineering, Deck 5, Sasu Gol)) Cory had a tight grip on Alieth’s slender wrist. She had a death grip on him. Her hand squeezing the bones of his wrist. He could feel them grinding under the pressure of her grip. But it wasn’t enough. What ever had her was pulling her away. Stoyer: Alieth, you are slipping! The desperation in his voice was clear and evident. His shoulder was starting to ache badly. Like it was being pulled out of its socket. Cory kept his eyes on Alieth, hopefully trying to reassure her. Alieth: No… Please! O. Marshall: Stoyer! Hold onto her! Cory felt the muscles in his shoulder pulling. Pain shot through it and down his arm. He tightened his grip. Whatever had her was very very strong. Stoyer: I…. I got her. Cory tried to sound confident, through gritted teeth. It felt like his arm was coming out of its socket. He concentrated on Alieth and holding on to her. There was a loud ripping sound as the sleeve to her jacket gave way. Alieth’s wrist slipped from his grasp as the darkness pulled her from him. Alieth tried to grab something on the icy deck to stop herself from being pulled into the darkness. Alieth: No-no-nonononono… Cory’s now deaden arm dropped to the frozen deck, still holding the torn sleeve of Alieth’s jacket and nothing else. He heard the others, but could only stare as Alieth slid out of view into the darkness. Desoa: I have you! Do not let me go! Stoyer: ::weakly:: No. Alieth: Help me! That was the last time he saw her. Cory laid on the deck, oblivious to the cold leech through the layers from the cold. He couldn’t move, all he could do was stare at the place Alieth vanished from view. O. Marshall: Alieth! Cory barely registered Commander Marshall Stoyer: ::Softly:: I lost her……. Cory laid there, not moving, as a flare burst into life and arced into the air toward the spot where Alieth was. The light showed nothing……Alieth was gone. He laid there, staring blankly…tears frozen on his face as fast as they formed. O. Marshall: She's gone! Where the hell did she go?! Cory’s voice was barely above a croaking whisper. Stoyer: She’s gone……I lost her. Just then, another flare lit up and flew through the air to bounce on the icy deck. Cory didn’t care. He still had not gotten up from the deck. Looking at the receding darkness, Cory wanted it to swallow him now. O. Marshall: Her tricorder! Get her tricorder! As Cory laid there, his guilt pulling him deeper into a severe depression. All he could see was the fear on Alieth’s face and the desperation in her voice as she told him to not let go. It was his fault… Cory closed his eyes and laid his head on the good arm and didn’t move. The frozen tears matted to his face. Bjarnadóttir: Make it scream! High frequency noise! Make the tricorder scream! Stoyer: ::quietly:: It doesn’t matter… O. Marshall/Desoa: Response Bjarnadóttir: Just do it! Cory heard that tone of voice too many times to count. Usually after she suggested something that he didn’t want to do and was being stubborn about it. Something in the tone got to him. Slowly, Cory pushed himself up on his good arm. The one that held Alieth was sore, and he felt like something tore in it. He finally got to his feet and looked around. Stoyer: Where did she drop it? O. Marshall/Desoa: Response Before anyone said anything, there was the sound of thin metal breaking. Then the sound of 2 folks colliding. Cory looked around to see Petra and Commander Desoa pulling themselves apart. Bjarnadóttir: That— There was something there. Cory wasn't too out of it to have missed it. He filed it away for later. Cory quickly looked away and saw the tricorder in question. Stumbling over to it. Grabbing it with fumbling fingers, he set a high pitch squeal to sound. The noise of deafening. But the darkness fell back. Either the noise or the fact that it had what it wanted. Setting the tricorder on an engineering bench, Cory leaned against it and folded his arms across his chest. He felt nothing inside. He failed and lost someone, a friend. Bjarnadóttir: That should give us a little breathing space, but not for long. We have to act fast. Can the tricorder pick up any trace of her? It took a moment for Petra's words to get into Cory's mind. Looking around again, he spotted the tricorder and grabbed it. Stoyer: Let me see…. O. Marshall/Desoa: Response His shoulder throbbing, Cory grabbed the tricorder and started it scanning. Alieth had a lot of science stuff on it but, Cory was abel to dig through them to get it to start scanning for a Vulcan lifeform. Nothing. The results showed nothing. Stoyer: I have nothing on her…. No Vulcan lifeforms in the area. O. Marshall/Desoa/Bjarnadóttir: Response Looking around, Cory saw the console for the umbilical. That still needed to be released. He looked over at Commander Marshall. He tossed Alieth's tricorder over to the other officer. Stoyer: see if you have better luck. I need to get the umbilical released. O. Marshall/Desoa/Bjarnadóttir: Response Without another word, Cory headed to the umbilical release console. Lieutenant Cory Stoyer Helm/Comms/Ops Officer USS Gorkon C239111CS0

Everyone is scared of him @Corlisseven the ghost 💯

Welcome to the fleet ensign Shepard!

@Jo Marshall's Vorin has no chill... at all 😆

Creepiest artist ever? Indeed, creepiest artist ever @Samira Neathler Awesome job! (( Unknown Quarters - Sasu Gol )) Things had changed since he’d seen the small Empress flanked by her High Supreme Guards. With the tip of his tongue between his lips, he dotted another letter and took a step back. Grinning and doing another victory dance. Another piece of art had reached perfection. Which was all part of the deal. They let him finish a masterpiece while he ignored their murmurs, whisperers and hollow words. Only when his work was done, he listened to them. Sometimes he even did what they told him to do. Like now, to keep as many people onboard the ship as possible. He didn’t know their purpose, he had asked, but they never gave him an answer. Instead, they filled his head with horrifying images. Dreadful pieces of art, painted by others, he had seen at exhibitions all over the galaxy in the past. Artists he had praised against his will. Now these voices proved him right. They were bad pieces of art, nightmare fuel. That was why he didn’t bother to sleep anymore. It was their trick to make people disappear from the ship, to have them vanish into thin air. In the beginning, he had seen people going to their quarters preparing to spend the night there. Some of them he had never seen again. That was when the panic started. Although the crew didn’t show, being the stoic Vulcan and all. They expressed it in other ways, like more activity in the corridors, search parties going from one deck to the other, tracking down their missing comrades. All in vain. He had hardly seen anyone return. Slowly, that all disappeared, together with the crew of the ship. Which was outstanding for him. Every free quarter, became a work of art. Letters, symbols, numbers, they all had meaning. All stored in those grey cells of his. Nothing gruesome like the voices projected in his mind. He needed balance to stay sane. And now those voices ushered him towards the location he had seen the High Empress walk into. Which was fine, as long as he did not need to confront them. He followed the murmurs screaming in his head as they projected one bad piece of art next to the other against the wall. Until he reached a half-open door. More voices, accompanied by beeping instruments, came from inside. The Empress had company. Something was dragging something over the floor. He had to stop them. If they left the room, they’d make all his artwork disappear. All his struggles would be for nothing. His work of perfection, this ship, would make him famous in the Artistic Circle. His name would open doors all over the galaxy and universe. All he had to do was work quietly and fast. His hand reached for the manual actuator and quickly he moved it. The doors closed painfully slowly as he moved the lever. The commotion inside the room mixed with the growing voices in his head as the door, too slow in his creative mind, closed. Once it stopped moving, he took his hand-burner and sacrificed some if its energy to disable the actuator. He even added his signature with the perfect dot above it. Screaming, in harmony with the vocals in his mind, he ran through the corridor, searching for the next blank canvas that would have the honour to bare his work. --- Mister Aliman Vry Human Artist Currently Known as Vry Still Creating the Perfect Dots Simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Samira Neathler Chief Security/Tactical & Second Officer USS Gorkon G239508SN0

No promises!

From Walter Brunsig narrative: @Quinn Reynolds I don't think I'll ever get over this description

Not as funny as a perfect concise little recall and motivation of the character for being where he is, nice work @Bryce Tagren-Quinn!

welcome and welcome back! hope you have a great time in your new ships!

Bear, the Magnanimous, has some Roman Emperor ring

It's great to see an ensign start to find their feet with the character and the narrative and this, just, is what we see here beautifully with @Bryce Tagren-Quinn . Good work! keep it up! ((Corridor, Deck 8, USS Gorkon)) The part El-Aurian doctor would have been lying if he said that practically dragging makeshift gurneys down the corridor of a deck experiencing a hull breach was an ideal method in transporting critical patients. However, the unique circumstances necessitated the need to think quickly and utilize anything that they had a line of sight to in the moment. There was no room for second-guessing. The herculean effort was a physically taxing process for the entire rescue party, but he was thankful and appreciative for their efforts. The Andorian Commander. The Bajoran scientist. The Ferengi engineer. The Ferengi engineer. As they made the journey in silence to the rendezvous point, he couldn’t help but contemplate the series of events in the lab, of Lephi taking it upon herself to perform surgery on the security ensign. Judging by her statements, she seemingly justified the action as a life-saving measure and, had Bryce had the opportunity to reassess things after exhausting a more conservative approach, he would have advocated for the same thing if it meant saving the officer’s life. The fact that she took the task upon herself, with him in the room only a shout away (especially after asking for her to keep him abreast before stepping away to address other patients), made him question a variety of factors. Not knowing the woman, he wondered about her judgement. He wondered about the amount of stress she might have been under. Was irritability and rashness a natural state? With her line of work, he imagined that she would approach things with a sort of methodical stance. Perhaps it was the situation itself? It was enough to set anyone on edge, to behave in ways they normally wouldn’t. He also wondered if the move was something born out of first impressions. Did she question his credibility, his competence? When he was called upon the deck initially, he was not dressed for a breach – but having been elbows deep in working with patients, he reflected backwards. The call was for an explosion, not a situation where there was compromised structural integrity. He hadn’t anticipated it but he should have known better. Live and learn. There was much more than what was happening in sickbay, in his world - and it was an awareness that he needed to develop… quickly. Because it could have costed him his life, and where would they have been? Lephi did give him that suit. Regardless of what might have prompted the action, it was done and they needed to focus on the matter at hand, and deal with the fallout later. His thoughts weren’t allowed to wander too much further, as the beautiful sight of security ensigns marching towards them greeted them. The doctor dropped the rope in relief and took a moment to breathe. ch'Ranni: =/\= Janders, get these people to the triage area. Doctor, please provide your report. =/\= He nodded, took a few more quick scans for good measure, and pulled out an encrypted PADD that contained all the scans and his hurried notes. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Please give this to the nurse. =/\= There were some other details that he provided quickly, knowing that they would do their best in transporting the injured and ensuring their safety in the event of full depletion of energy. Janders: Understood, doctor. We'll take care of them. With the hand-off complete, there was an awkward silence. As the group seemed to collect themselves, Tagren-Quinn readjusted his kit and glanced between them. ch'Ranni: Ready for the next section? Tahna: =/\= Ready. =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Aye, ready. =/\= Another beat… or three. The hybrid raised an eyebrow. ch'Ranni: =/\= Coming, Lieutenant? =/\= Lephi: =/\= Yes sir, whatever you need. =/\= ch’Ranni: =/\= Response =/\= ((Deck 8, USS Gorkon)) The walk was a seemingly ominous one, which was made more pronounced by the silent tension that was amplified by the situation. He worried about those they found, of those that they didn’t. Of what obstacles they might face. But, it was not productive to become trapped by those fears. Despite everything, they needed to push on. Sections were broken with the now common view of space greeting them around bends. It was terrifyingly beautiful. The pace slowed as Lephi approached a containment field, indicating it with a certain amount of emphasis. Lephi: =/\= I won't cut off anymore arms, but we've got to be quick. See this? ::points to a containment field holding back the inky blackness of space as they walked by:: That tells me we don't have more than another hour, even without my scans. =/\= He was impressed that she could gauge that by eyesight alone. But, with scans unreliable and such a time crunch, their window was shrinking quickly. He wished they had a concrete estimate to work with. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= How much ground do we have yet to cover? =/\= ch’Ranni: =/\= Response =/\= Tahna: =/\= Do you have a suggestion to make recovery quicker, Lieutenant? =/\= That was a great question. He listened to their responses with rapt attention. An engineer would know her ship, and the Chief of Operations would have a good sense of things. ch’Ranni/Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= Tahna: =/\= We still have three scientists listed as present in the duty logs who are unaccounted for. There may be other security officers too, like Tzim-Shah, who were clearing the labs. =/\= Tagren-Quinn: oO Very true. Oo ch’Ranni/Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= They talked as they walked and, as they approached the next bend, they were met with a sight that left them knowing instantly that things were going to be even more complicated, even more impossible. Before them, stood a wall of broken pieces, of tangled pipes and wire. He just stood for a second, horror threatening to squeeze in. Tahna: =/\= Is this the part where we crawl through a Jeffries tube to save the day? =/\= Bryce glanced at Tahna before glancing over to ch’Ranni and Lephi. He could see they were working things out too and deferred to their expertise. ch’Ranni/Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= If we journey through this Jeffries Tube, how long will it take to get there on a normal day, a normal jaunt? =/\= ch’Ranni/Lephi/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= And, if we encounter these three, possibly more individuals, that we might have to transport out… might there be any other alternate routes, perhaps on the other side that might be open? =/\= His words tapered off, attempting to develop a strategy of escape while considering their rescue and time constraints. ch’Ranni/Lephi/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= If they are alert and mobile, that would be best case scenario. If their injuries are more substantial, transport via Jeffries Tubes may not be possible. Our time is shrinking by the second, so I guess we’ll see how things are on the other side… =/\= He didn’t want to monopolize any more time sorting it out loud. They had a job to do. ch’Ranni/Lephi/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= -- Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn, M.D. Medical Officer USS Gorkon (NCC-82293) T238909AT0

QOTM material @Tahna Meru? QOTM material for sure

i SWEAR this need to be all around a QOTM

Even if I KNOW the context of this, it makes an AWESOME out of context line @Samira Neathler

Are you sure @Quinn Reynolds? :3

Probably one of the most unsettling SIMs I've rad in a time. Thanks @Jo Marshall I hate it ((Sickbay, Deck 2, Sasu Gol)) Every grind and thunk of the ship systems, or metal groaning under the growing cold, only made the Nurse try to suppress a shiver. Bear could only imagine the mental strength needed to hold off the emotional turmoil he'd found himself asunder. If Bear looked closer, he could see Diinr shaking. Diinr: We detected a rapid increase of tachyons and gravitons shortly before the first of several "blips" the ship encountered, then several afterwards. Several of our colleagues within Sickaby rapidly descended into a particular type of hysteria we failed to diagnose or treat in time before… He gestured to the room, to the splash of green dried blood on the biobed they'd found earlier, and glanced in the direction of the room with the spiralling brushstrokes. Diinr: In short, our crew turned mad within moments of being inside the Rift. Stoyer: We can find the others and get them help. Bear wasn't sure if it was the bare emergency lights flickering across Diinr's features, or if the Nurse had wavered a little then. Did he know something they didn't? Where had the crew of the Sasu Gol gone to? They'd heard the scrambling through the maintenance shafts, heard the doors thumping shut with their clanging metal frame. There had to be others still on board. However, something weighted in the man's statement seemed to catch hold of Alieth's attention, and frantic Vulcan fingers began tapping rapidly into her tricorder. Alieth: Wait, you said you were unable to treat them in time, so, you found a medical treatment? Diinr: A treatment, certainly. Blue eyes narrowed in his direction, the twitch at the corner of one a product of the cold. Stoyer: Diinr, do you know if there are any other survivors? No one could respond as the doors shattered open with a force capable of knocking through the bulkheads to make a spacious open plan starship design. The lights in the sickbay dimmed, allowing the darkness to sweep in from the corridor; a torrential tsunami of onyx, all limbs and fangs and eyeballs and things scarcely identifiable beneath the tide of blackness. Alieth: Take cover! Stoyer: What is that? Bear didn't need to be told twice. There was no staring down the barrel of that phaser rifle to be shot on the other end of it. He hit the deck behind the bloodied biobed, the shadows surging overhead like shadows didn't, stretching throughout the Sickbay. Alieth's scream ripped through him like a razor blade, and as he looked over to her, the flashes of light made her actions stop and start. She'd reached forward, trying to grab the Vulcan nurse, trying to drag him toward the cover. But Diinr didn't move. Alieth: Diinr! Now! Stoyer: He’s going to get hurt. O. Marshall: Get down, you mad [...]! The Vulcan simply stood there, watching the oncoming darkness as if it wasn't the most terrifying wave ever created. His eyebrows had lifted, surprise on his features there and recognisable, and the thought alone dropped through Bear like a boulder into a deep quarry. The tricorder in Alieth's hands beeped in a high-pitched tone and Bear shot his eyes to her as she advanced on the young Vulcan… only for the shadows to pick her up and send her flying across the room. She hit the opposite wall with a loud crack and slid down. Stoyer: Aleith! Diinr: Don't you see, Lieutenant? Don't you see this is our fate?! He laughed loudly as he stepped up onto the biobed and held his arms out, spread like wings, on either side of his body. The darkness curled around him, almost curiously, covering his Vulcanoid body like a shroud, a cloak of midnight black, of space, and everything children were afraid of when the lights went out. A roar resounded, reverberating from the duranium bulkheads; a deafening cry of a ship full of disembodied voices. On top of the bloodied biobed, the shrouded Vulcan grimaced, emotions running wild and rampant through the features that should be stoic and logical. Young as he was, Diinr's eye sockets had become thickened and hollow pockets of black, and up his olive skin, thick branches of black veins had grown. Where his green blood had flowed before, only black remained, and turned his flesh a hue of grey Bear had never seen before. Diinr: It demands sacrifice. ::His voice boomed with the slip of shadow, amplified by the swirling madness around them.:: You will become the next. Grabbing one of the flares from his holster, Bear sparked it up, and the end lit in bright red. All around them, eyes and faces festered and leaned out of the shadows, before retreating with a deep hiss. Diinr growled as he leapt down from the biobed, his feet landing in the deck with a heavy slam. …and then everything was still. Lights were back up. Shadows dissipated. Back to normal. Diinr was gone. Bear pried his eyes open, willing his heart to climb down from the top note it remained on, his breath thick and ragged beneath his beard. Sure enough, sweat rolled down his spine as swear words in Bajoran and Federation rolled off his tongue. No flare in his hand. He pushed himself up from the floor using the biobed as leverage, onto shaking feet. Somehow, Stoyer was on the other side of the room. Stoyer: Diinr? O. Marshall: He's gone. He rubbed his hand over his face, threading his fingers through his beard, and remembered their other Vulcan had taken the initial whiplash. Grabbing the discarded medical tricorder, Bear climbed over the debris to where the Vulcan had landed. O. Marshall: Alieth, you still with us? Logic once for yes, twice for no. Alieth: Response On the other side of the room, Stoyer slowly got to his feet. Nothing looked broken from where Bear stood, or dislodged, save for some Stoyer: You guys ok? What was that? O. Marshall: That was one goddamn crazy Vulcan. Is that what happens when your lot loses their minds? Alieth: Response He glanced back over to the green, bloodied biobed, and pieced the words together in his head. Every part of this felt wrong; being there, in the Sickbay room where it had all taken place only seconds before, made Bear's stomach roll. O. Marshall: He said sacrifices. More than one. Alieth / Stoyer: Response O. Marshall: Human blood on the doorway. The Vulcan Doctor committing suicide. ::He pointed to the biobed.:: That. You tell me the logical path from there. The equations don't fit. Alieth / Stoyer: Response O. Marshall: Just… a thought. Maybe he lured whatever it is here. Maybe it became… part of him. Or it became part of him. I don't know. ::His heart had started to come down from the rafters, blood no longer singing in his ears.:: Whatever it is, I want out of this room and off this damn ship. Where does the umbilical connect? Alieth / Stoyer: Response -- Lt. Commander Orson Marshall Intelligence Officer USS Gorkon G239304JM0

Welcome to the fleet ensign Ral!

@Jona ch'Ranniconfirmed :