Alieth

@Bryce Tagren-Quinn is always a consistently great writer, with a thoughtful and calm character. This little conflict, with his doctor's voice and personality shining through and seamlessly interweaving with the tone of the scene, is a delight to read, and I hope to come across other such delightful sims again soon. Thanks for this scene, Kara! ((Main Sickbay, Deck 7, USS Gorkon)) After his conversation with Doctor Namura, Bryce was feeling like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how much he had been hanging onto things, having lived in rumination land a tad too long, but was feeling much better knowing that they had a plan in place to get Tzim-Shah the best possible outcome the medical team could offer. Tagren-Quinn: As for the prosthetic, I was able to get the first steps in motion but we’ll need to reconnect once a few things line up. I will be connecting with Lieutenant Lephi shortly. I know you have a full, booked day ahead of you so I don’t want to keep you. Let’s plan to reconnect tomorrow regarding next steps. He was firm in that answer, his eyes locked onto the Tellarite’s to show that he wasn’t going to budge on the matter. He wasn’t under any illusion that the man wouldn’t just contact her himself. If that was the case, then he would have been forced to take it into an expedited direction. Tzim-Shah: Hang on there boy, you don't want to tell me something, I smell it. What's the matter, has the damn screw-tightener get cold feet or what?! Bryce stood, unfazed by the assertiveness of the other man. Tagren-Quinn: Not at all, Ensign. It’s a process and we have to… The Tellarite clipped right through his sentence, his impatience shining through as brightly as Sol herself. Tzim-Shah: Look, I don't buy it, there's a catch and you don't want to let it out. Well fine, keep your secrets, but this is why we all think you're all a bunch of wussy butchers. We? Who was we? Dumbfounded, the doctor watched as the security officer moved off the bio-bed in one adrenaline-driven motion, his face at his a mere nanosecond later. Fangs were dangerously close in a move meant for intimidation but the El-Aurian hybrid didn’t budge or blink. In fact, he exaggerated the few inches he had on the other man, calling upon the primordial instincts and behaviors of his ancient ancestors. He had been stabbed and shot in the ED before, and had the scars to prove it. Punched in the gut and the face. Been pinned against the wall by a Nausicaan, too. He had been assaulted, been spit on. Pissed on. Did the other man not know what doctors endured for the sake of their patients? Tagren-Quinn: There’s no catch, Ensign, I assure you. There’s no great conspiracy. But we have to do things by the book. Medical is medical. Things already went rogue once before. His words hung in the air, a little bit more bitter than he intended them to be. He didn’t add the piece about, “…and see where we are now.” He didn’t want to cause a scene. That is what he was trying to avoid. The Tellarite just mumbled as he struggled to pull his tunic over his head. Tzim-Shah: Whatever, buddy, I'll figure it out even if I have to contact that crazy woman myself. Tagren-Quinn: You won’t because I already have a call in. It is a call that we needed to make. It is a step that we, on the medical team, have to take. Tzim-Shah: Response Tagren-Quinn: …and, you are a Starfleet officer, Ensign. And you will listen to your doctor. You will not meddle with this work. I will be in touch once the Lieutenant and I are able to discuss this thoroughly. It is not a conversation that we can have on the fly, right here and now. Do you understand? It is a prosthetic. It is an involved process. If we want to do this right, if you want the possible outcome, you will listen to me this time. He stood firm, eyes locked on the Tellarite’s in a bid to impress the importance of this. It wasn’t often that the doctor went this way, but sometimes the individual and the situation called for it. Tzim-Shah: Response Tagren-Quinn: I’m here to help you. We will see you tomorrow for the surgery and we’ll discuss the next steps then. Do you understand? Tzim-Shah: Response

Just a friendly travel size Sehlat, due to everyone needs a 2m tall sabertooth bear around a ship!

I think Thea will fit just rifht in the gorkon @Jo Marshall😂

Congrats and welcome to the fleet!

OMG @Quinn Reynoldspoor Thea 😂

i could hear EXACTLY @Cory Stoyersaying this and it's hilarious in my head XD

welcome and welcome back to the fleet! 🖖

Ummm, i guess? Well, indeed! @Bryce Tagren-Quinn 🙈

Walter need a thread for himself imho @Quinn Reynolds😂

Beat me on share it! Absolute great work from @Tahna Meru

Congrats and welcome to the fleet! It has been a pleasure to have you in the Academy, and I really hope you enjoy even more your time here!

I know the full sim is already here but @Corlissthis, just this, out of context

Hard challengers here! But I must go fully with LD 'cause the show has been a treat so far!

@Jo Marshall gives us here a perfect sample of a sim with humour, action, excellent timing and some of the most mouthful bajoran sayings and proverbs I have ever read. Wonderful, fun and thrilling, you set the bar sky-high with this one, girl! ((Deck 8, USS Gorkon)) As the communication dropped, Rix was sure he heard heavy breathing through the connection, though it didn't sound like it was the calm, relaxed sort that came with being on the brink of losing life to a rampaging hull rupture. Kero: =/\= Good job we didn't pack up and leave when we had the chance. Have we got the ability to spin up the power again for another transport? =/\= The young doctor nodded in agreement. Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= Rix waited for a second, then glanced towards the tricorder in Tahna's hands, and then again at the wall nearest to them. Solid as the bulkhead was, it was thicker than most others on board the ship and meant to confine issues should the physics lab have problems with the collider. However, it wasn't impenetrable. Kero: =/\= If they're on the other side of the wall, could we cut through to them? =/\= Tahna: =/\= Would it further compromise the structural integrity of this section? =/\= Structural integrity of the ship, of their section at the forefront of his mind, it also whirred with the possibility—or improbability—of getting their crew out of the burned down physics lab before they all exploded in a hazy spark shower. Neither was he keen on having to explain why the very pregnant Romulan assistant chief of science had been jettisoned out into space. However, that wasn't a call he could make either. Shoring up the walls required an engineering brain manifest within their Ferengi engineer. Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= Tahna: =/\= If we cut through here, we still have to get them back to medbay or triage in the brig, preferably without crawling the whole way through Jefferies Tubes, since we’re not sure of their condition. =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Yes, that would be preferable. Depending on their injuries, which we are unable to fully detect at this time, physical movement could cause more harm. However, if we are comparing additional injuries that might require more medical attention over the possibility of death… =/\= The doctor trailed off at the thought but it wasn't as if it hadn't been a shared one. Kero: =/\= Physical injuries we can cure with Starfleet magic are something I'm willing to consider over death, at any given moment. ::The deepening frown on his brow, however, suggested otherwise.:: We need to get them out, one way or another. =/\= Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= Tahna: =/\= Could we deploy a workbee to clear the blocked section of the corridor? Or, if that isn’t fast enough, what if we use the transporters to only cover small distances at a time, like beaming from one side of the blockage to the other? =/\= Rix shook his head. Getting a workbee down there fast enough to do anything about it at all would be near to impossible, given the amount of debris now floating around that section of the ship on the outside. There would be significant damage done, and detritus alone would make the journey treacherous for any one of the technicians, whether they were a hotshot pilot or not. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Transporters would be ideal for a variety of reasons – timing, injuries, speed- ::he ticked off his fingers, a little lost in thought::… but we’d need a clear shot. Would we be able to guarantee it? We have their life signs and compared them but the situation is fluid. =/\= Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= It was then that the dark-haired scientist turned to face their doctor, with all the gravity of expression a fellow Bajoran could muster. The doctor threw a quizzical look back her way as Tahna explained. Tahna: =/\= It is possible Lieutenant Sienelis is in labor. =/\= Blinking in the headlights, as was the human saying, the doctor looked around at Rix and Lephi for a split second before consulting his PADD. Likely the manifest of the crew and their known medical conditions, if Rix took a stab in the dark, and the doctor confirmed it a second later. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Yes… =/\= Kero: =/\= Which, as you can imagine, complicates the extraction process slightly. While she is in the midst of her extraction process. =/\= Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= The look on the Doctor's face suggested his thoughts were whirring past faster than a lightship in the high wind heading back for ratamba stew at the dockyard. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= What if-what if… Is there a possibility of transporting some of that debris out of here and then erecting the containment fields to support the wall integrity? We could probably get a more solid lock on that inanimate matter and it would remove the dilemma of ensuring we have a solid lock on their life signs from the equation. =/\= Rix felt his brow crease evermore, thinking through the suggestion with as much brainpower as he could muster, for the duranja lamps to flick on. Getting a fix on equipment would be significantly easier to do and could negate some of the issues they were having in obtaining a solid lock on the two individuals still encased therein. Kero: =/\= Beming it out into space, you mean. Kick out anything that resembles metal or components, and hope it doesn't mistake the Vulcan for a computer. =/\= Lephi/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= If we can clear it out, that debris and hold it together long enough to get them out… is it possible? Do we have enough power and time to do that? =/\= Hope, the rarely satisfied emotion, sprang forth on the doctor's features as if he'd managed to tap into the well of it and let it run free. Another of the Bajoran sayings floated through RIx's mind as he narrowed his dark eyes in thought — every curse becomes a prayer eventually. Kero: =/\= Power, yes. Time, we'll have to move quickly. ::Renewed hope imbued like a lightning rod. Rix glanced to Tahna and Lephi in turn,:: Tahna, can you refine the life sign scans with the Doctor as close as you can get it, and Lephi, let's get the power up as high as we can. As Tahna said, everybody survives today. =/\= Lephi/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= Working from the same equipment as their engineer, Rix brought up the transporter controls as their Doctor flashed the deck layout on the display monitor. It would be close, it would be within a hair's breadth of being one with the universe, but if luck was on their side, they might actually pull it off. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Looking at this deck, we can map out what we need to carve and compare it to updated life signs scans from myself and Lieutenant Tahna to ensure our shot in the dark is as accurate as possible. =/\= Kero: =/\= Loading in the variable composition of equipment in the labs, filtering out for bio-active elements… =/\= Lephi/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= Time was an interesting concept; one universally experienced and yet, slipped through the fingers so very easily. Every species had a name for it, had a way of measuring the way that it passed in quantity and had a way of determining if they had experienced too much time or too little. The trouble with time was everyone thought they had enough. Fingers flew over the control panel, mapping out the various pieces of the destroyed laboratory they could get a transporter lock on, and verify to be parts of the demolished laboratory instead of their charges. Power input increased to thirty-seven, reduced as the molecular imagining scanners verified it wasn't a person, then transported it outside of the vessel. How that would play out in the near future, only time would tell. Kero: =/\= We're chipping through it. Last of the large pieces heading out of the door in three, two, one… =/\= Lephi/Tahna/Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Response =/\= The rumbling of the deck beneath their feet resumed. Though the strain on the support beams within the physics lab had been lifted, what had presumably shifted to keep the deck in place was now gone, leaving the deck vulnerable to falling into the deck below once more. Metal shearing against metal, the slow creep and crawl of the cracks in the support lending their noise to the symphonic harmony. Despite the dogged determination riding high on the Bajoran, Rix couldn't help the cold sweaty feeling crawling down his back that they would be too late to save them. Kero: =/\= Can we get the containment field in place? =/\= Lephi/Tahna/Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Response =/\= Kero: =/\= Spinning up the transporter… Pattern buffer and backup initialized. ::He looked to the Doctor and the Scientist, the tag team of the life sign report.:: You're sure you've got them? =/\= Lephi/Tahna/Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Response =/\= Confident in their work, he looked over to Lephi. Now was the time. Do it or die. Get them or not. Another choice wasn't in their stars. Another chance would see them draining the containment shields for the required power output. Kero: =/\= Frequency locked at one-six-two-point-nine Gigahertz. Beginning dematerialization cycle. =/\= Rix—heart pounding, sweat dripping, muscle clenching—held his breath. Lephi/Tahna/Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Response =/\= -- Lieutenant Commander Kero Rix Deputy Chief Operations Officer USS Gorkon simmed by Commander Jo Marshall First Officer USS Gorkon, NCC-82293 G239304JM0

thanks @Jo Marshall, i hate you, I've spilled water through my nose reading this 🤣

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