Tahna Meru

Yayyyy, congratulations all!!

This has just been too much fun to write! 😄

Congratulations, everyone, and many thanks for all you contribute to our little universe. ❤️

Congratulations and well-deserved, everyone! 🥳

Fabulous work all around! 🥳🥳🥳 Congrats, folks!

I've already shared this sim in appreciations, but I was rereading it today to respond to and this line deserves a place here, too: Hyposprays of permanent courage...now part of the standard Starfleet vaccine regimen! @Alieth

I don't have the words for this sim. It left me really tickled, it's just so melodramatic and fun! Kudos, @Vylaa! ((The Great Wastes)) She darted forward from the Great Cave. Eight eyes scanned for danger. Eight legs felt for the vibrations that would tell her when the giant was approaching. The Great Wastes stretched out before her, a massive obstacle she must cross. The Drive pushed her forward. Told her that the Time of Laying was near, and then, Forever Sleep. But she would not End. For within her swollen abdomen waited thousands of her eggs ready to be laid. They would hatch, grow, and eventually experience Times of Laying of their own. She would live on, in them. But first she must cross the Wastes. Her eggs needed to be kept in a warm, safe place. But since the coming of the giant things had not been so warm. Her instinct thus drove her forward. Across the Wastes she could find the Up. And in the Up she could find warmth. She darted forward again, then stopped. Again, she felt for the giant. Again, nothing. Forward again, and after a lifetime she came to the climb. It was flat, like the Wastes. But hard, not soft and bumpy like the Wastes. And vertical, but that was no problem. She had climbed it many times before the giant came and drove her into the Great Cave out of fear. So she climbed. Her goal was where the Upside-Down met the Up. There, she would build her egg sack and lay her eggs. Then she would sleep. Boom! Boom! The vibrations ran up her legs and sparked a burst of speed. The giant had awoken. She must get out of it’s sight or surely she would die. Boom! Boom! It was closer. She froze. Maybe it wouldn’t see her. A shadow. Then nothing. ((Vylaa zh’Tisav’s Quarters)) Vylaa looked on with disgust, first at the sole of her boot and then at the smudge that had once been a spider on her otherwise clean wall. oO Filthy bugs...Oo Ensign Vylaa zh'Tisav Engineering Officer USS Gorkon C238601TB0

Some people leave you forever in awe of their ability to describe things, picking you up and dropping you on another planet while you read like it's as easy as requesting a beam up. @Alieth is one of those people. ((Festival Grounds, Yarista, Palanon)) One of the most important parts of the Festival was over. The lanterns had been released, with their prayers and pleas to the Prophets. The Vedeks had blessed them, they had exchanged gifts and planned dinner for the next day. Now they moved on to another highlight of the evening... DINNER! And luckily the Tyrellians and the Bajorans living in their territory had it all planned and near the wild meadow where the festival had been held a small village of stalls had sprung up, where food and drink from a thousand worlds were served at different booths, with kitchens and replicators singing their songs merrily along with the owners shouting the qualities of their delicacies. There was even Klingon food! Which didn't appeal at all to Ena, who made a face and grabbed Meru's hand to run a little further forward, to a circle of stands surrounding a small roundabout whose centre was occupied by a dozen crescent-shaped tables. Most of them were already occupied, groups of Tyrellians, Bajorans and other species eating together, diverse groups that seemed to have never met before sharing conversation and food. Ena even thought she could make out a Gorkon crew member there, but she wasn't quite sure, as she still found it difficult to recognise most of them out of uniform. The smells there were much more intense, intermingling in a way that made the mouth water. Sweet, spicy, salty, toasty, there were so many options! Ico: Ah, come on Ru, pick something or it'll be a dessert dinner! Tahna: Okay, okay! Ico: ::poking her with a finger:: Hurry up! Her friend looked around for a moment before covering her eyes and spinning around like a top for a few seconds while Ena laughed her head off until, finally, Meru stopped, pointing to a spot over the cadet's shoulder. Tahna: That one! She turned to the stall. The queue discouraged her a little, but soon a smile appeared on her face again. It was part of the adventure, after all. Ico: Let’s go! Much sooner than Ena would have expected when she spotted the throngs of people milling around the stall, both had a bowl in their hands and headed toward the dinning area. The young cadet took a suspicious peek at the food in her hand as they approached the crescent moon-shaped tables. It smelled delicious, sure, with that blend of spices that seemed to be ingrained in every Bajoran's palate, but the look was...well. As colourful as the Tyrellians who had designed it. It was a sort of soup or cream, thick and creamy, with bits and pieces and leaves of various greens and vegetables floating around, served in an edible bowl made of some sort of local grain. The thing is, the vegetables were purple. And blue. And Ena could have sworn that she had a chunk of something minty with magenta polka dots floating on her bowl. Something that... well. It was weird to say the least. However, she WANTED to try new things and, after all, many of her favourite desserts were blue, so... she had to try it. She was ravenous, too, and her stomach reminded her of it with a terrifying grumble when they finally found an open spot between a Tyrellian couple and a bustling group of middle-aged Bajorans and they could sit there to enjoy the dinner.. Tahna: So, you've been on board for a minute now. How is your Gorkon bingo going? Ico: Well I have looked at the Bingo list and .... little else. It all seems a bit risky, don't you think? And... well... WAY too much against the rules… She made a pause and took a spoonful of the purple and blue soup. While the appearance was a little... strange, the taste was delicious and gave her a delighted expression as she rummaged through her bag. Soon her PADD was on the table and she closed several Yarista tourist pamphlets before she got to that ill-fated list. Ena stood up slightly, checking that there were no other Gorkon officers nearby, before she placed the Padd between her and Meru, out of sight of prying eyes. Her friend, meanwhile, had not remained silent. Tahna: That's the point! Bend the rules a little, have fun, get to know the ship! Ico: ::With a mischievous grin::Like what you did with the Cardassian 101 professor? You're a troublemaker, you know that? Tahna: Response The young cadet almost let out a laugh with that retort, which she had to stifle by putting both hands over her mouth and tried desperately to keep the soup from spilling out of her nose. She was only partially successful. Ico: :: Chokingly:: Well, ok ok! :: She glanced over the list once more and scrolled through it for a bit :: What do you think of this one, this one is not... all that bad. She highlighted a line on the screen and tapped on the padd before looking at Meru. It was something simple, a turbolift duel. Just shout out two different decks at the same time and see which one won. It didn't look like it would get them into too much trouble. The worst that could happen was that Ena would be late to water the plants she was tending in hydroponics before her first rotation in Security... Tahna: Response Of course that wasn't going to be enough, of course if it wasn't scary it wasn't funny enough... what happened to people when they graduated from the academy, did they get a hypospray of permanent courage or something? The young cadet pressed her lips together and looked at the list once more... tinting the warp core a colour other than blue seemed complicated, and she didn't want to get into trouble with the starship still in dry dock. A stampede on deck 8 seemed like a bad idea after... well, what had happened on deck 8. Call the Admiral ma'am? No way, that was the quickest way to get yeeted from the Gorkon without an EVA suit, Ryan had warned her STRONGLY against that movement. Ena's eyes flicked up and down the screen in search of something that wasn't dangerous, or inconsiderate, or that would put them on the verge of being court-martialed. Ico: Okay, well, something more risky... ummm, which one haven't you done yet? Maybe we could do one together? Sounded like a plan, didn't it? Besides, Meru was very clever at getting out of trouble, after all, she had already proved it several times. Ena still remembered what had happened in organic chemistry III. The lab hadn't been the same for three weeks, but NOBODY thought both Ena and Meru had been involved. Her friend really had a knack for words when she put herself into it. Tahna: Response Ico: WHAT?!?!?! NO NO, THAT'S A HELLUVA CRAZY! That's not knowing the crew and the ship, that is... character-building chaos or something like that. Tahna: Response Cadet Ico Ena 4th Year Cadet USS Gorkon NCC-82293 E239702A10

Meru was originally planning to reuse last year's suit, but when rising Bajoran designer Nadra reached out with offers of a custom, sustainably-sourced gown, she couldn't resist. Nadra says the beading was inspired by the Calash Monastery Gardens. The modern, pearl-drop take on the d'ja pagh comes from Eli Vel, a Bajoran expat and jeweler in the Tyrellian system.

Bahaha @Bryce Tagren-Quinn SO glad you went camping!

Awww thanks @Alieth! And kudos to you, as well, for being a constant source of inspiration 💖

@Cory Stoyer that's a great question, can we get @Bryce Tagren-Quinn's skincare routine?!

@Vylaa I don't know where you heard that rumor but it is almost completely unfounded!

Posting the whole sim here instead of posting half of it in the quotes thread. Fantastic writing of a spiraling scientist, funny and elegantly written as always! Cheers @Bryce Tagren-Quinn! ----- ((Cordina Valley, Mindirra Mountain Range, Palanon)) The environment was just what everyone needed after such a trying mission. Mountains, a pristine valley and a lake to soothe battle wounds. Many warriors would immerse themselves in nature as a means to heal. In fact, there was sufficient medical evidence that showed that nature immersion decreased blood pressure, stress, and so on. Anyway… Out of the group, the two that Bryce knew best were Lieutenants Sirin and Tahna, though he didn’t exactly know them. He had hoped that this trip would not only help to help them all unwind, including himself, but also forge friendships that would help build community. That community would allow them to become resilient in the face of any future events. And, from what he had heard from the group regarding the Gorkon herself… yeah. Tahna though… they were in somewhat close proximity, setting dishes atop a tarp near the campfire. He wracked his brain on what to call her. Lieutenant? Was that too formal in this setting? They weren’t exactly friends quite yet (maybe on the cusp?), so he felt a little awkward in addressing her by her Bajoran given name. They did however face the possibility of death together on deck 8. Tahna: Tahna, or Meru, either is fine. ::Smiling.:: Anyone who survives ghosts and explosions with me can use my given name. He smiled and rotated around slightly at the sound of the Adonis-looking Trill man’s voice. The man with the arms that seemed bigger than his own thighs. Tan: ::Nodding in agreement:: Yeah. Just Serren is fine for everyone. Especially now! We're here to relax! Indeed they were. The jovial man was wise. Tagren-Quinn: Have you read or done any studies on the local wildlife and plant life here? I just saw a group of what looked like birds, at least by Earth standards, and it’s driving me bonkers because I don’t recall seeing anything about it in my pre-trip reading. I wonder if they were introduced? Honestly, he was going to ask Tahna how she was getting along since the mission but he didn’t want to come across too personal or prying. The fact that she was here and smiling was enough to let him know that she was likely getting along just fine. Still, the last mission had been quite the tribulation for the lot of them. And, Serren’s comment about relaxing was indeed true. They all needed a reprieve. Sirin: Exobiology was part of my double major, but I haven’t really read much about wildlife here. I’m interested in what types of fish we will find. ::turns to Stoyer:: Would you care to join me on my hunt for dinner? Green eyes focused on the other El-Aurian hybrid doctor and Bryce couldn’t help but pause a moment, smiling internally that there was some peace emitting from her. It was a vague impression but a good and promising one. Fishing would prove to be such a great activity. Though, a part of him reverted back to days of old. Were the fish protected? Were there any laws about catching and releasing? He reasoned that Starfleet would not have likely permitted them if that was the case, and would have educated them pre-trip of any warnings. This location hosted a lot of other visitors though. His thoughts then quickly pivoted, twisting into environmental clean-up. With increased traffic came increased issues in that realm. What about potential contaminants in the water that would lead to issues of bioaccumulation, traveling through trophic levels and… biomagnification? Was it safe to eat the fish? Were there versions of algal blooms, with toxins that may… Ugh. Maybe he would just test the fish discreetly with a tricorder before they dined on them. He needed to quiet his mind or else it would go warp speed into journal article land. Abstracts only, please. Stoyer: Sure, I will go with you to help caught some dinner. Let’s gather the gear. Sirin: :: to Tagren-Quinn:: I’ve read that there are large fish similar to Terran snakeheads. Apparently they mimic walking on land and can survive for two days out of water. A most interesting specimen, if one could find it amongst the shore’s debris. That sort of reminded him of some amphibious creatures he encountered on an outpost. Tagren-Quinn: Oh that does sound interesting. Please, take some snaps if you come across anything. I would be most interested in reviewing your findings. Tahna: I was more focused on the plants than the Aves, honestly. Did you know there’s a species of cyan fungus in the mountains that bloom once every sixty years? Bryce twisted around and raised his eyebrows at Tahna who handed him a refreshing cup of tea. He just smiled and silently nodded in thanks. Tagren-Quinn: That… oh wow, I would like to see that too! Bloom every sixty years?! The longevity alone… Stoyer: After you. Tan: Good luck! Hope they're biting! And, with that, the red-haired Sirin and the man in flannel, Stoyer, were off with their fishing gear. Bryce watched after them for a moment before turning towards Serren, who was cooking up a storm. He was impressed with how at ease he was with it especially given the primitive setting. The doctor’s mind continued to trail off though, enchanted by the prospects, of the treasure trove this place held. All the biotic and abiotic relationships, the mesic forest, and the untold geological history that helped to influence it all. He thought about the notebook in his pack and got sucked in it all before a soft voice brought him back to the present. Tahna: I would love to see it bloom, I guess we’ll just have to come back in forty years. It took him a moment before he realized that the Bajoran woman was sitting on the ground near the campfire with her arms wrapped around her legs. The scene was enough to pull him out of his trance and concern etched across his youthful features. In forty years he’d look about the same, most likely. But, this wasn’t about that. There was something lingering in the undercurrents of the woman’s words and he wondered… Tan: ::Whistling appreciatively,:: Forty years. Wow. It really takes that long? Tagren-Quinn: Yeah… sometimes longer for some species. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to say and he regretted it as soon as it tumbled from his mouth. He really had a way with words sometimes. He glanced between the two. She then took a drink and twirled a blade of grass between her fingers before speaking once again. Tahna: How are you two doing? After…everything. There was a bit of silence which was broken by the other man’s voice. Tan: I uh... I miss Jona. ::He stirred the cooking lunchmeal slowly, then the rice too, making sure it didn't stick to the edges.:: "Palling around on Palanon" was our thing. We spent almost a whole shore leave seeing the sights and we barely got to see a quarter of everything... a quarter of a quarter. He would have loved to be here. Bryce nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets and focusing his attention to the ground, to a rock. He had met Jona, albeit briefly, and was saddened to hear of his departure as well. Tagren-Quinn: Yeah, I didn’t have a chance to get the Commander too well but, from my brief interaction with him, I found him to be a top-notch officer. He led our team on deck 8 with much composure and determination. As for himself, how he was doing? Work got him through. It always did. That something to focus on always got him through. Tagren-Quinn: What about you, Tahna? How… how are you? He sat down a few feet from her, ran a hand through his hair and offered a warm smile. Tahna: Response Tan: Heard your second part of the mission was a real, uh... doozy. ::Stirring quietly.:: By all accounts you both did great. Sure to wrack up an impressive haul at the next awards ceremony. That was really kind of him to say and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it. Tagren-Quinn: I… just doing my part. Always wish I could do more. Like almost leaving some people behind, one of which was in the throes of labor. If he was thrust back into the situation, would he have made the same call, the same recommendations? The answer - a resounding yes - wasn’t always going to be a popular one. Tahna: Response It was when Serren went to taste the concoction he was cooking did Bryce catch a whiff of familiar spices. It caught him off guard – but honestly, it shouldn’t have. Tan: Want to talk about it? No pressure if you'd rather just sit by the fire and talk about something else. By all accounts, the food smelled amazingly good. And… Too much. The logical part of his brain reasoned, though the primitive part kicked up a flight response. Tagren-Quinn: I’m… I think I might, uh, take a moment. He looked to his company apologetically and rose to his feet, brushing off the dirt and grass from his pant legs. Tahna/Tan: Response Tagren-Quinn: Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry. I think… I think I’m going to write down some observational notes before I forget them. I’ll be right back for lunch though. It... smells delicious. Tahna/Tan: Response With a weak smile and a faint wave, he was off trudging to his tent with his hair lifting some by the light breeze. His hands moved around hastily in his belongings until the notebook and pen emerged. When he had those in hand, he made a beeline to the trailhead to gain some distance. He would have to apologize to them again later, perhaps even offer an explanation. The spices were a reminder of a different time and, on any other day or moment, perhaps he would have been stronger about it. Focus. Plants. Medicine. There was a strange wooden sign attached to a wooden post at the trail’s entrance. Along its surface was scripting burned in that he didn’t understand but there was a touchscreen under it for a hiker to tap in their language preferences. Spiffy. And, whoa, a rather large shadow casting down from above. Circling, almost menacingly. Shielding his eyes, Bryce glanced up only to witness a deluge of… Tagren-Quinn: Shhhhiiii--- …expelled contents from a species of bird, falling from the sky. The young doctor stepped back with great speed and agility, narrowly missing the massive explosion and nearly laughing in shock and at the absurdity. It felt like a metaphor about the current state of things. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and just shook his head. -- Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn, M.D. Medical Officer USS Gorkon (NCC-82293) T238909AT0

Yeah, no, I'm not crying, just got some sadness water in my eye!

@Bryce Tagren-Quinn This is just fantastic. The jovial man was wise. 😆

@Bryce Tagren-Quinn

@Alieth and @Lephi I can already tell y'all are gonna kill me laughing at this scene.

I get incredibly egg-cited about Trek Easter eggs, and Lower Decks is obviously such a strong contender! But since my favorite Trek movie is The Voyage Home, obviously my favorite egg is Kirk Randolph Thatcher.

@Jo Marshall how could you make me laugh at Chris's sim, this is serious!

Every one of Kara's sims has been amazing, offering wonderful insights into a new character and fantastic contributions to the scene. The writing in this sim though, I find particularly outstanding. Kudos, @Bryce Tagren-Quinn! ((Flashback - Calesian Lunar Colony, Several Years Ago)) It took six long months before the dust settled a bit on that ill-fated colony. The situation shifted from one of great catastrophe and emergency to one of warranting lesser attention. It had reached a phase where things were stabilizing, though Bryce questioned what that even meant or entailed since everything was still pretty much a wreck. Casualties were counted. Hundreds had perished. Injuries were being addressed. That number reached in the thousands. Patient care shifted from emergency triaging efforts to ones addressing long-term impacts of those injuries. Sure, Starfleet had the most state-of-the-art equipment and innovation, but life-long complications were still very much going to happen for those that were stricken. It was in this phase, that Starfleet Command took over the operation and sent more of their own in, relieving the medical efforts of civilians. Bryce had wanted to stay, having developed connections with several of his patients. They were his responsibility. He cared about their outcomes. He tried to stay but was pretty much forced out. On Bryce’s voyage home, his attention remained fixated on the lunar colony he left behind. He arrived there a bright-eyed, perhaps naïve young doctor and left feeling like he lost a piece of himself. It was a piece that he felt would forever fade into the universe, becoming one with dark matter, dark energy. One that would tell none of his secrets, of his burdens. Of his grief. He was quiet, reflective, and turned his attention to media outlets but was surprised to discover that news coverage of the lunar disaster was minimal at best. What was being communicated was that things were tapering down and, while not untrue, it did little to fully articulate the situation there. It almost felt callous. That feeling lingered and left something in him that he carried back. It festered. Bryce’s partner at the time, a cardiologist from a local private practice that had hospital privileges, immediately picked up on it. His name was Cer Voya, an unjoined Trill, with dark-hair and piercing cerulean-colored eyes that penetrated the soul. The tension between the pair boiled to a critical point one day, though the inevitable was months in the making. They were in their shared apartment when it happened. Voya: Bry, I’m only saying something because I care. Tagren-Quinn: Don’t you think I know that I am different? I see the images in my head when I sleep, when I’m awake. What do you want me to do about it? I can’t just magically turn it off. I’ve already sought out professional help. I’m a doctor, dammit. I know what this is. What he didn’t say was probably the most important part: and that was that he wished his partner gave him a little bit more grace with it all. Of course an event like that would leave a lasting impression, but he didn’t need to be goaded over it on a daily basis. It was like picking at scabs. If Cer wanted him to heal, if he had truly cared, then he would have granted him the space and the time to do it. Of course, Bryce was only slightly cognizant of Cer’s feelings and position in the matter. Cer felt frozen out, alone. But, at the time, the young El-Aurian was so absorbed in it all and couldn’t really concentrate on the reactions of others. He was not in a place to do it. The irony of feeling frozen out himself, from his efforts on that colony and from Starfleet, did not arrive in the forefront of his thoughts. Voya: I know you do. Trust me. But… But. BUT! And that was the nail that ended that relationship. By the end of the day, one packed their bags and never returned. Bryce floated between people after that, against the professional medical advice he was given. Still, the Betazoid nurse, Gexena… she was a good distraction for a time. Until he found his footing. Until he decided to make a change. Knowing that this was irrevocably a part of his experience and history, he wanted to spin it into something where he could do something. The decision to join Starfleet came about a year after his experiences. It seemed to manifest out of nowhere but, when the thought occurred to him, Bryce was angry at himself for taking so long to get there. It effectively dispelled those images that plagued him: the idea of helping more, giving his everything to give the best possible chance for better outcomes for others. All the while he would be in a better position to never be sent away again. His entrance interview dug at this piece of his background though. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The wizened Vulcan woman, dressed in command red, positioned at the end of the long table had clicked through a PADD and asked the question with no emotional undertones. Official: Do you believe that that particular incident will shape your perceptions of future events? He looked her square in the eye and his jaw clenched. Tagren-Quinn: How could it not? His voice was strong and, yes, a bit defensive. ((Present Day – Deck 8, USS Gorkon)) Experiences shaped who a person was and, much like evolution, that process continued on (and, in an individual’s case, through a lifetime). It was, at times, non-linear. Life events continually manipulated it. Coping mechanisms and choices could potentially be equated to adaptations and could result in overall resilience. So, in a situation like this? Where choices were impossible, it was important to think things through and not silence any voices. Bryce could understand Lephi’s pragmatic position. Essentially, by exhausting time in searching for the scientists that could very well be dead, could deplete what resources they had left. Even if they were able to extract those individuals alive, that end result could mean disaster for them all – even for the people they saved. Tahna’s position was also understandable – to not leave anyone behind. That was also seemingly a soldier’s mentality. Who could live life knowing they didn’t do everything possible to retrieve a fallen comrade? The hybrid did not envy the decision on the Bajoran Commander’s plate. He only knew the man for a short while, but his composure during such a difficult time was commendable. It was something that could either make or break a situation. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= The question becomes, where would we find a workbee? How many would we need? Is there one functional nearby? What about the anti-gav emitters? =/\= Lephi: =/\= We'd undoubtedly need at least two workbees. I'd imagine we could probably calibrate a single anti-grav emitter to handle the rest of what we need. =/\= Kero: =/\= Assuming we can lift the ceiling in the first place. =/\= Working the situation. That is what they needed to do, and they all were doing their very best considering the circumstances. The young doctor weighed all the variables in his mind, and the feasibility of aligning all the pieces that would make their plan work. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= I can call ahead to the triage unit the brig so they can dispatch some transporters and nurses in the event that we are able to recover our team members. If we pull them and they are alive, it’ll give us the time we need to move to the next point. =/\= Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. The Ferengi woman spun on him quickly, lashing out venom with every. Single. Word. Lephi: =/\= We. Don't. Have. Access. To. Transporters. =/\= Bryce blinked in silence, thinking back about what he just said and then realized his error. Transporters – ah, yes, that was the trigger word. What he had meant was the security officers serving as transporters for patients, not the technology itself. It was a classic mistake that was made more pronounced by his history as a civilian doctor. Hospital jargon did not always translate into Starfleet’s world. If she was worried about the time as he was, then she realized that this squabbling would not bode well for them. Before he could offer clarification, it was the Bajoran Commander who spoke to try and smooth things over. Meru quietly turned her attention to the lab. Kero: =/\= Look, there are good points on all sides, but this is what we're here to do. Find our missing crew and save lives. Make the hard decisions and try the impossible no one else will. There is more technology in this ship than on most planets. There are capabilities here we have and options we haven't thought of yet. =/\= Lephi: =/\= I hear what you're saying, but if we waste resources on the transporter, we're shaving valuable minutes off of our longevity. =/\= Kero: =/\= Then we go the route of an alternative. Give me an alternative, Lieutenant. Explain to me what other technology we can employ, right now, to get them out of there. =/\= At this juncture, Bryce didn’t want to add fuel to the fire so he decided to not push things too much. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= If we have our security officers from the brig help with manpower, in helping here or moving patients from here, that might take away from the needs in our triage area. However, the hands would be helpful, especially when considering other areas we are needing to explore, too. The question becomes – how fast could they get here? =/\= And, what challenges might they face during their journey? It wouldn’t be anything that they hadn’t faced, but things were crumbling all around and it was getting more unstable by the minute. Lephi: =/\= I don't want to sound callous here, but it makes no rational or logistically sense to do it. =/\= Kero: =/\= Your objection is duly noted for the record, with witnesses. Now, if we're done arguing the point, can we come up with a solution instead of beating it to death? =/\= Bryce only offered a nod, not wanting to escalate things. Even if he was the doctor of the group, he was also the lowest ranking officer and didn’t want to come across as anything unintended, especially in a high-stakes situation such as this. Emotions were running high, but he was committed to offering his thoughts and ideas as needed. The Commander began to pace, deep in thought, as Meru knelt by the lab’s entrance. The silence between the group stretched on for what seemed to be an eternity. Until… Something came crackling through their suits, followed by a horrendous sound. Bryce’s gloved hands went to his helmet as he gritted his teeth. Tagren-Quinn: oO What-what the hell? Oo Peek: =/\= Commander Kerȯ̶̗̀ and team. Do you read? =/\= Kero: =/\= We've got heavy interference, Crewman. Can you repeat? =/\= Peek: =/\= Wȩ̴͈͆ ha̵̙̦̽ve po̶̜̖͆wer rec̵̻̈́͋onnecṫ̸͚ed, sir. Not en̵̰͋tī̴̠̱rely but̸̗̑ͅ enough ̶̟͐to ĝ̸̥̝et powe̷̠̫͛ṙ̷͓̃ to your section of ̴̫͊̍the ̵̞̆d̷̘͒͊eck. I̷͎͆s ̶̦̯̅it safe tô̸̮ do so? =/\= Wait, did he hear that correctly? Kero: =/\= I'm not sure, Crewman. ::He looked over to their Ferengi officer with a quirked dark eyebrow through the faceplate.:: Can Engineering restore power to this section? At least I think that's what he's asking. =/\= Bryce glanced over to the Ferengi woman, deferring to her expertise. Lephi: =/\= Response =/\= Peek: =/\= L̸i̶f̸e̴ ̷s̵u̶p̶p̸o̶r̷t̴ ̵i̴s̶ ̴o̶p̴e̷r̵a̷t̸i̷o̶n̸a̷l̷ ̵o̵n̵c̷e̴ ̷m̵o̸r̵e̵.̸ ̵Y̴o̷u̶ ̵s̷h̴o̴u̷l̸d̷ ̸b̸e̶ ̷a̷b̶l̴e̷ ̶t̷o̶ ̴s̸c̷a̸n̷ ̷u̶s̷i̴n̶g̷ ̴t̸h̴e̵ ̴t̷r̵i̸c̸o̶r̵d̴e̸r̷.̷ ̸ ::The interference started to clean up, bit by bit, only allowing the Crewman's pause to come through.:: O̷n̸e̸ ̸m̷o̷r̴e̷ ̸t̵h̵i̵n̶g̵,̵ ̴s̶i̵r̴.̸ ̸H̶o̷w̵ ̶d̴o̵ ̶y̴o̵u̵ ̸k̵n̵o̴w̴ ̵t̴h̷a̷t̴ ̷a̸l̴l̷ ̶y̵o̶u̴r̵ ̶m̵e̶m̸o̶r̷i̶e̸s̸ ̷a̷r̷e̴ ̸t̶r̵u̴e̴?̵ =/\= Kero: =/\= I errr… Does anyone want to take a stab at that? =/\= Tahna: =/\= You don’t. ::She paused before elaborating, realizing that while truthful, it wasn’t the most helpful answer.:: Memory is a reconstructive process, event recall is rarely pure and is influenced by what we’ve learned about the world. But generally, I don’t think there are many reasons for you to possess a false memory that seems real. =/\= The scientist glanced over at him, her dark eyes seeking additional input. It was such a strange question to ask, though, and a loaded one. Those damned blips seemed to be the logical culprit. Thoughts turned to the scans he was doing in the background, but Bryce focused back on the question posed. When he replied, he wanted to remain aware and not go off on an unnecessary tangent. Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Memories can be fallible, shaped by emotions and perceptions. If by false memory you mean a pure recall of a past event, then please know that perfect recall does not exist. Additionally, memories can be subject to external manipulation. The answer in a nutshell is essentially – Lieutenant Tahna is right, you don’t really know how “true” they are. =/\= Lephi/Peek/Kero: =/\= Response =/\= Tahna: =/\= If you’re concerned about your memory, might I suggest talking to a counselor? Corliss is a certified miracle worker, I believe. =/\= Bryce nodded, as this was a topic within a counselor’s scope. Lephi/Peek/Kero: =/\= Response =/\= ((OOC: Also happy to expand upon this if we’d like to!)) Tahna: =/\= So with power restored, what new options do we have for retrieval? =/\= The prospects were exciting. Transporters would be thrilling, but Bryce didn’t want to be the one to say that word again. Again, he deferred to other’s expertise. Lephi/Kero: =/\= Response =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= With power restored, scanners would be more reliable... =/\= It was more of a thought spoken aloud than a question. Lephi/Kero/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= We can get a more accurate reading on those life-signs, and any more that might be stranded on this deck. While we sort out the logistics of what equipment can be at our disposal, we can develop an extraction strategy in tandem. =/\= Lephi/Kero/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= Tagren-Quinn: =/\= Even if we weren’t looking at the void of space and worried about the timing of power failure or structural integrity failure, we are still looking at possible injuries. Every moment we use takes away vital time from them. The sooner we can get to them, well, the better overall chances for successful health outcomes. =/\= Subdural hematomas. The weight of an entire deck section on one’s person. He hoped that the Commander was right – that the scientists had enough time to move into a pocket to avoid serious injury. Lephi/Kero/Tahna: =/\= Response =/\= -- Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn, M.D. Medical Officer USS Gorkon (NCC-82293) T238909AT0

Gotta say that was definitely inspired by this line in one of @Samira Neathler's sims:

Can we nominate scenes for QOTM? Because this entire scene has been so funny to me 😆

Poor @Lephi! But this made me chuckle.

This sim from @Alleran Tan was delightfully funny and sad and spooky. Those are a lot of emotions to fit into one sim; I loved reading it! (( Escape Pod - Gorkon’s Cargo Bay )) The Cargo Bay Crew™ were beginning to suspect they were not alone. Sami had asked him if Trill were telepathic. No more or less than Humans, but with a twist; the joining. It was similar to telepathy with the self. Kind of like... how shuttles and transporters both moved stuff from place to place, even if they did it in totally different ways. If you zoomed out far enough they were similar enough that one could draw comparisons between them. Regardless, no other great insight came to him. Serren exhaled, his breath forming a small, white cloud, and Samira moved towards the exit of the pod. Tan: Maybe we’re thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe there was something we picked up on our way in here... it didn’t come from the pod, it was here all along. And now it sees the pod, and it knows it. Understands it. It means something. ::He wasn’t sure where this idea was coming from.:: Fears it, maybe. Fears what’s on these logs. It seems to react worse whenever we do anything with them. Neathler: Do things with the logs? Have you read them yet? He hadn't, and it was odd that he hadn't. That should have been the first thing he did. Tahna: Why wouldn’t it want us to read the logs? That, he couldn't say. Sami stepped out of the pod, looking into the cargo bay. Then she called them out, and Serren was suddenly glad to be out of the cramped, freezing environment. (( Cargo Bay - USS Gorkon )) Neathler: Ok, it’s somewhat warmer here. Take a place and let’s go through the logs. I’ll see if any of the consoles are still working. A great idea. Tahna found a crate to sit on, and Serren leaned up against a bulkhead, giving his tricorder a playful shake, as though upending it to reveal its secrets, flashing a goofy smile as though it were the most amusing thing in the world. Stalling. He was stalling and he didn't even mean to. Totally subconscious. Focus. Determinedly, Serren forced his tricorder in front of him, loaded the log file, and brought it to the screen. Read. Just read. Tahna walked over toward him before his eyes could catch on the logs, and she commanded his full attention, giving what he hoped was a big, reassuring smile. The kind of one he hoped told her that, hey, everything was going to be okay, promising that next shore leave they would book some holodeck time, make Volcano-pop together and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh about all this silliness that was so very far behind them all. Have to drag Jona off for drinks! Yell and giggle and sing traditional sea shanties! All of them! A billion thoughts suddenly filled his brains, so much that it was hard to focus on anything. Volcano-pop! Safine! Sevo! Shore leave hijinks! Steak! Earth! Cory! Mikali! Mums! Dying! Watering the plants! Vacations! Alleran! Singing! Cake! Read. The. Logs. No. Neathler: Anything in those logs that stands out? Tahna: Nothing yet. A good answer, and one he echoed, with substantially less confidence. Tan: No... nothing. Yet. Samira nodded and returned to the doors, like she was going to flurry-kick them down herself. She was mildly terrifying, and it made sense that she could likely destroy them if she wanted to. And she seemed like she wanted to... And then the world winked out. The darkness returned, cold and harsh and sharp as glass; it almost seemed to [...] his skin, turning all his arm hairs up. And he heard a voice that he hadn't heard in his entire life. Not externally, anyway. Only a whisper in his subconscious. But now loud and clear, an audible noise. Alleran: Hey. What the [...]? (( Somewhere That Is Absolutely Not The Escape Pod In The Gorkon’s Cargo Bay )) Pushing himself off the bulkhead, Serren stared in amazement at the three people standing before him. There didn't seem to be any deck below his feet, no bulkheads, no source of light at all; their faces were cast in the strange omnipresent luminescence that seemingly touched nothing else. Marlee Xai, the first host of the Tan symbiont. Old and grey, the same age as she'd been when she died. Alleran Mapak, the second host of the Tan symbiont. Sickly and pale, wearing his Commander's pips and red collar. Wooden cane grasped in his right hand. Serren forgot how short he was. Safine Rael, the third host of the Tan symbiont. Standing there, hands on her hips, her abdomen covered in blood but otherwise... standing. Both legs were strong and healthy despite her obvious injury. All three of them stood in the darkness, as real as anything he'd ever seen, save for the strange light. Light that only touched the dead. Safine tossed her hair absently, unbothered by the shadows around them. She met his eyes, mild disapproval flashing across her features. Rael (Hallucination): "No thoughts head empty"? Is that what you really think of yourself? C'mon. Really? Xai (Hallucination): ::Clicking her tongue,:: To be honest, this one is pretty well adjusted. I think that's all you, Alleran. The kind of thing you'd say. Alleran looked away at nothing in particular. Mapak (Hallucination): Y-yeah, I guess it is. It's j-just ... how it is. My contribut-ution to the Tan symbiont. Occasional b-bouts of self doubt. Sorry, b-buddy. Serren stammered out a vague nothing, staring between the three of his past selves. Was he dead? Had the cargo bay decompressed suddenly, blowing them out into the space outside (hopefully it was space)? Was this... death, from the symbiont's perspective? Rael: Hey. ::She snapped her fingers in front of her face.:: Pay attention to what's happening around you. The light's about to— (( Cargo Bay, USS Gorkon )) —come back. As suddenly as they disappeared, the lights returned. As suddenly as they appeared, the three Ghosts of Trills Past vanished, their thoughts once again his own. Safine's bluster. Marlee's knowledge. Alleran's nervousness. Serren's... self. All one again. The others, clearly, hadn't seen or heard the ghosts. Maybe best to keep that little thing, whatever it was, to himself for now. Put it in the mission logs as "hallucination, comma, creepy". Neathler: You’re back… Pale and trying to piece things together, Sami's gaze met his. He looked down and away, not ready to accept that stern gaze just yet. A malfunction of the lights, followed by some kind of... joining hiccup? Or something else? Tahna: Is everyone okay? Absolutely, definitely not. Serren, for the very first time since he'd come aboard the Gorkon, wanted to go home. Not to his quarters, but back home to Trill. To The Ring. To making Volcano-pop the real way, with real heat pipes, with his folks and the icy winds outside and nothing going on every single day. Without the bother of being joined, without Starfleet and its demands, without... anything. Home. Being joined was a mistake. Starfleet was a mistake. It had killed Alleran, it had crippled Safine, and it was driving him mad. If he couldn't learn from two failures, there was nothing else to learn from a third. But no matter what his thoughts, no matter how cowardly they suddenly were, he couldn't forget his duty to Sami and Meru. There were three of them, trapped in a cargo bay, and he had to get through this. He was not "fine". Tan: ::Shakily,:: I'm fine. Meru stood and paced, tricorder in hand. She clearly wanted to get out of here too. Sami looked agitated too. Like she was going to get back to smashing down those doors. Go full, "Samira, smash!". Tahna: Maybe we’re going about this all wrong. Serren canted his head. Neathler: How so? Rattled, Serren just listened, his full attention on the Bajoran scientist whose brain would likely be their salvation. Muscles and phasers couldn't win this battle. Her big ole' noggin would save them. Tahna: If we’re assuming there’s even a possibility we’re dealing with some sort of sentient…thing, then maybe we just should try talking to it. We’ve considered the possibility that there’s something in here with us, but we’re still acting like there’s nothing there. Maybe us ignoring it is just making it angrier? Neathler: And how exactly do you want us to not ignore something, if we don’t even know where it is? It seemed, rather than silly, actually like a solid plan to him. If it could grab Neathler and Tahna and pull them around, it could probably sense vibrations in the air, aka sound. The question of if it would understand their speech, or if the UT would even be a useful asset in this situation, was definitely up in the air. But there was only one way to find out. Tan: ::Nodding to Tahna,:: Yeah. Let's do it. Neathler: Was there a common factor when those oddities showed up? He couldn't think of a causal link. Couldn't think of much of anything. Seeing his ghosts... it had reached into his pouch in a way that he found discombobulating. Couldn't focus. Why hadn't he read the logs yet? Tan: The temperature dropped. And we tried to... ::Quietly,:: read the logs. Tahna: Response Samira, all business, turned to him. He straightened his back, trying his best to appear more confident and sure of himself than he felt, which was little. He felt small and cold and young and alone. Neathler: You said something about it not wanting us to read the logs. Can we use that somehow? Yeah? Yeah. Tan: ::Thinking,:: Well... if I were some kind of freezing grabby-ghost, and I wanted to scare some fleshies into not reading something, I'd basically mess with them when they took action to read, and then ease off when they didn't. Probably. Tahna: Response Neathler: What about using a tricorder to project words or part of those logs on a wall or something? Maybe whatever it is, will react on that? They could taunt it. It was a bold plan, but it just might work. Tan: Could rig something up. Gimme a moment. Neathler/Tahna: Response Serren went to work. He accessed his tricorder, and with a firm, deliberate effort, closed down the log program and accessed the secondary functions. Almost immediately the distracting fog that had obstructed his efforts lifted. His fingers eagerly obeyed his commands, flying over the tiny device's surprisingly accessible keypad, bringing up the secondary features. Photonic emission, low grade. Like a basic projector from science class. Suddenly he was a skilled, experienced, talented Starfleet officer again, and rigging a standard tricorder as a projector was a simple task indeed. Yet somehow, reading simple text on it was not. Tan: Okay. Got something. Should be able to display our data line by line. Neathler/Tahna: Response The sinking feeling in his pouch came back, as though the spirit—or whatever it was—had plucked the thoughts right out of his brains and figured out what they were trying to do. Before he lost his nerve, Serren linked the lights to the dump of the raw logs, activated the projector, and shone the light at the nearby bulkhead. Tan: Sorry, lemme adjust the focus. He tapped a few more keys with fingers that shook slightly, and the image came into focus. The first few lines of the logs... black and distorted, corrupted but readable. He squinted and tried to read... Neathler/Tahna: Response -- Lieutenant (j.g.) Serren Tan Security/Tactical USS Gorkon O238704AT0