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  1. @Ashley Yael I thoroughly enjoyed writing this scene with you and can't wait to continue the character development. The ending of this sim was perfect giving the two characters room for further development and exploration. _ _ _ ((Starbase 118 Ops - Medical Bay)) There was a haze. People speaking, but just beyond his hearing. It was difficult to make sense of it, though his sleeping mind tried. It felt as if only a few moments passed, but some time actually had. A couple hours for the surgery he slept through. Then, a short while in recovery. He thought he heard voices, familiar but impossible ones. One deep and stern voice threatened to drown out the more pleasant ones. A Denobulan voice much like his own, but without the good humor or veneer of civility. It took him some time to come out of the medicated fog, but he was glad when he did, as he realized the voices were far away and a product of his subconscious, or of stress. He felt so heavy. Had to take a few deep breaths with purpose to help him realize he was genuinely awake. Eyes opened, but just barely. Doctor Bailey. The last he recalled seeing her was only a short while ago, though it felt a long way away. Her golden blond hair had been spilling over her shoulders as his vision narrowed, and she’d seemed quite angelic in that moment when she’d come to save him. Bailey: Hey, welcome back sleepy head. ::now she was starting to talk like she did to her two sisters as a way to comfort them:: Everything was good. Successful. You’re on some pain medication but I suspect you might not need them for much longer. Yael: ::heavily:: … Bailey… can I... ::he paused, trying to collect his senses:: I can breathe... I can talk? Sudden concern he might undo her good work, but she put him at ease with her words and glowing bedside manner. Bailey: Yes you may talk, just be careful. We are keeping you here under observation for at least 24 hours. Yael: ::coming through the fog somewhat:: Everything’s ok then? Bailey: ::air whizzed out of her lungs:: You need to be careful. Had me scared to death. I was in pain too. I couldn’t stop imagining walking away…. ::Sharp intake of breath:: Walking away? He wasn’t sure how to process that. Was it because she couldn’t stay due to the gravity? Had she put herself at risk to help perform his surgery? He tried to look at her more closely but he was just not clear headed enough. He tried to smile, though it was small. Yael: I’m glad you stayed. Where would I be without you? He hoped it would come out encouraging, but he didn’t have much energy to put behind it. Bailey: I’m sorry. I should leave you to rest. Yael: I’ll try not to scare you again. In fact, this is the last I want of my bones going array. Far too bothersome... He was going to say how tired and heavy he felt, but he ended up thinking it instead as he let out a heavy breath. He let his eyes slip shut and his breathing to steady. Recuperative sleep sounded so very nice right about now. But he knew even as he slipped into blissful rest that he would need to seek Bailey out again, if for no other reason than to thank her for descending out of the air and saving him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ensign Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0
  2. Sometimes the inner struggles are harder than the external ones. ((Starbase 118 Ops -Promenade)) Bailey could hear the coughing and truth be told it scared her. Terrified her to no end. Last she had seen Yael he had been perfectly healthy, not a single complaint. And too based on the way he had talked then had definitely acted like the type of person that did not want to make any sort of bother. It was that last part that made the Elaysian woman nearly lose her breath as well. Yael needed medical attention and amediently. One couldn’t last long if they couldn’t breath. The growing problem though was the fear she experienced. Fear created not only from the memory of her uncle but from the intensity of the moment. The way her body moved on autopilot; picking up supplies, ordering around any medical officer standing about in main sickbay. Honestly the whole situation made her sick; nauseous. She wanted to vomit right then and there however her uncle, who she could almost see out of the corner of her eye, appeared to be telling her no, that she could only end up a patient herself if she could not solve her current problem. That she could not be weak. It was that bending of time. The way she blinked, her eyes closing one second opening the next medical crew staring at her. Staring as if to tell her to move, to do her dang job. From Sheila’s point of view she wondered at what had happened. It was like she had just woken up. In a hypothetical sense the morning was full of fog, smoke. The trigger was lost until she found herself practically on top of Yael. His skin clammy, and though he couldn’t see himself, his pallor was blue. Some unknown stranger had lowered him to the ground. Here Sheila had pulled out her tricorder moving the device over the counselor. Blink. Uncle. Blink. Sisters. Blink. Galven? Blink. Meeks. Her mind could see everyone who cared for her looking up at her out of Yael’s eyes. In the back of the woman’s mind, as if coming up out of a fog, came her uncle’s voice whispering “leave him.” Bailey: One of your ribs has punctured your lung. The Denobulan could only agree with another deep, alarming cough, hacking up more blood as the pressure in his chest increased. His hand reached out to attempt to shove the hands crowding him away, as if the space would give him more air. Blood, wet, dripping, blue, dropped onto Sheila’s uniform with each of Ensign Yael’s hacking coughs. Coughing in a situation like this not only looked painful but was. Sheila did not envy Yael or wish to be in his situation. What she disliked was having to clean up the mess. Course she would do it and with pride; she adored her work as a Starfleet doctor. Yet today everything was something different, something opposite to itself. As Yael’s hands reached out towards her he seemed to only manage to smear more blood down the front of her uniform. Bailey: Please don’t struggle. I know you are having trouble breathing but I’m going to need you to stay still Ensign. Sheila nodded to one of the medical officers nearby who then placed an oxygen mask over Yael’s face. It was one of those that fitted over the mouth and nose rather than having prongs to fit into the nose. Using the full mask allowed a struggling patient to take in more oxygen. Once the mask was placed Sheila only wished for a bit of relief. She would shoulder all the pain, all the hurt, the burning, choking, flaming pain as her own. If it was her’s not Yael’s then everything would be justified. Then maybe she would understand why she gave in and kissed him, not Yael, but him-him, a person, a man that she wasn’t going to mention. Yet they were the same man that had been consistent in her life. Her uncle had a profound affect. Bailey: Don’t talk. I only want you to concentrate on your breathing. Sheila too wondered how she was managing everything. To her, her brain had taken over and it was as if there were two people in the same body. Part of her was entierally afraid of messing up, of saying the wrong words. Shaking, numb, experiencing tight restrictive pain down her neck from intense hair pulling; hair pulling that currently wasn’t happening. A breathy voice making her take breath after breath in between each sentence. The other half was her normal unaffected self; a highly trained doctor. A doctor that knew a hundred percent what she was doing. Knew that her friend, if she could call him that, was going to make it out of the whole thing alive. Bailey: I’m going to talk you through everything I’m going to do. Just blink or squeeze my hand if you need me to stop. First I’m going to give you some pain medication. That should allow you to breath more easily. Then I’m going to run my bone regenerator tool over your ribs. That will allow the healing process to speed up a great deal taking the pressure off the lungs. Lastly, and this is the least fun, I’m going to have to insert a small yet fairly wide hollow needing into the space between your ribs. I need that extra air to get out from your lungs. You’re likely to have the tube in for a few days as a precaution. Some time in sickbay too I’m not taking any chances. To Yael Sheila must have looked like an angel what with the way her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulder illuminated by the bright lights around them. Bailey: ::Bailey reached over and gently squeezed one of Yael’s hands almost as a way to let him know everything was going to be okay:: Alright here we go. The young doctor turned her smile upside down at the pain both she and Yael were experiencing. Gratitude was a powerful tool which was likely why she matched the grip the Ensign gave to her hand. What happened next was just as quick as her arrival on the scene. The hypospray full of pain medication was administered. Before she knew it another blink and the other medical officers had managed to get Yael and her transported to sickbay. It was another moment as if her body was having episodes of absence seizures. The word went on around her while her body pressed pause. Pause was pressed. The movie skipped and then as if she was stopped from drowning, breaking the surface of the water, appearing out of a fog, body heating up making her dizzy, Sheila gripped her needle tight before plunging it into the space between Yael’s ribs. Relief was given, but not to her, as her patient took deeper breaths. Yael: ::weakly:: Sh… sorry… not being very… cooperative. Bailey: Tell me. Formalities. Now was not the time for them. Her brain was an upturned boat on the water. A boat with a hole, quickly filling with water. Slow, difficult to make stop. Yet Sheila needed to know why, what had caused the incident. Some life saving revelation could be revealed. Yael: Holodeck malfunction… the safeties failed, somehow. Took a rough blow… didn’t realize it was *that* hard. Tried walking to Sickbay. Didn’t make it. He tried reaching up to his ribs and barely glanced at the object inserted… and instantly pulled his hand back. Bailey: Don’t. I’ll take it out and then we need to take you in for surgery. My tools have been able to heal your injured rib yet it still needs to be fixed into place among other things. I’ll be putting you to sleep. I truly promise to do everything I can….. oO to make sure you don’t die. Oo Yael: Right. Yes. Do it. Sheila once again pressed a hypospray to Yael’s neck this time sending him to a peaceful sleep. For him the surgery would be over and done with before he even considered what was happening. For Sheila, despite her not being the one to perform the surgery, she would be there in the operating room the whole time acting as a damn fine scrub nurse; act as the one to monitor the vitals, organize the tools. Over the next 1-2 hours Sheila never sat down. She hardly moved from her spot between the monitor and the cart of surgical tools. She practically regretted it. During the whole process she had stood with her bad, left, hip jutted out, a way to shift her weight, yet by the end the whole area was a mess of painful nerves constantly firing; she could hardly walk even with her crutches. The use of her wheelchair would be required as soon as she had a free moment which was unlikely to happen. Frankly Sheila did not want to use her wheelchair. Not even an ounce of her wanted to appear weak. If somehow her problems became more important than those of her patient she would give in, make her uncle happy. At the same time her problems, her struggle was just as important. Bailey stood leaning against the biobed, painful pressure lacing through her hip, yet she ignored the irritation. Yael was slowly coming back into consciousness. Bailey: Hey, welcome back sleepy head. ::now she was starting to talk like she did to her two sisters as a way to comfort them:: Everything was good. Successful. You’re on some pain medication but I suspect you might not need them for much longer. Yael: Response Bailey: Yes you may talk, just be careful. We are keeping you here under observation for at least 24 hours. Yael: Response Bailey: ::air whizzed out of her lungs:: You need to be careful. Had me scared to death. I was in pain too. I couldn’t stop imagining walking away…. ::Sharp intake of breath:: Yael: Response Bailey: I’m sorry. I should leave you to rest. Yael: Response Lieutenant Sheila Bailey Assistant Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0 No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men - Sara Lance; Legends Of Tomorrow
  3. I love going on missions with my fellow writers. Exploring situations and seeing how our characters respond is definitely a wonderful experience. However, one of my favourite parts is seeing what people do with their personal arcs, and that allows me as a reader to follow along in their journey. Sheila's journey has been on going, but I love how Aly is giving us insight to a new sort of beginning along that journey. I love how she makes it easy to connect with her character, and allows us a glimpse of what it might be like to be Sheila. ((Sheila Bailey’s Quarters - Habitat Areas - Starbase 118)) Sheila had done it. Yes she had done it. She had taken the next step needed. Now however she wasn’t sure. Not in the way that she shouldn’t have done it but more so ‘I never thought I’d get this far’. She had been wearing her uniform as she walked back from her appointment at the breeders. Dogs that’s what it was. ‘Special dogs for special folks’. That was supposedly the woman’s motto. Basically a breeder trainer and with that she would have to come back in 6 weeks; training. The woman working with her had been extremely excited for it too. She had talked at length about how most only came in for a new pet which required basic training; sit, stay that sort of thing. But she did set aside a few select dogs for more complicated training. In such the basics including service dog tasks were out of the way before the new owners, handler showed up. That was Bailey. Her and her new dog would be a team. They might even be a team right now and on the first day. Now she had a list of supplies in her saddle bag, her hands wrapped around the handles of her forearm crutches and strung through one of said handles was the loop of a teal rope dog leash. If one followed the leash they would spot at the end a dog grey in color, thin yet strong, ears flopped over, soon to point up as the pup grew. The creature was a classic style of male Elaysian dog similar to the Earth Great Dane. The Elaysian dog was built almost as if it was a miniature version of a horse, built to run. Currently it reached Sheila’s knees but at full grown, at the year mark in about 6 more months, would reach between her hips and waist. Soon enough the pair stood at the door to Sheila’s quarters. Once inside the dog's leash was uncliped. Not a moment too soon did the young pup go racing through the living room then around the kitchen table. They nearly knocked over her stone fruit bowl. On the second lap they practically slammed into the counter sending one of her round fruit tumbling to the floor. Bailey: Hey! Slow down. Come here… come here…. The dog stopped, sat and looked at Sheila, their head held sideways. Bailey: I’m sorry I don’t have a name for you yet. The thin dog practically disappeared running around from the kitchen into the bedroom. Sheila was about to follow when out of nowhere they appeared again. Dragging behind them was one of her knitted blankets. Bailey: I guess you're trying to help. That’s your job huh? Carefully Sheila bent down to sit on the floor. Her dog, yeah her dog took that as a cue to put his head in her lap. Gosh was he cute at six months. Cute and soft. Perfect for petting. Bailey: I should give you a name shouldn’t I? Dragon? Okay not that one. What about Jupiter? Pluto? ::The dog lifted his head looking totally uninterested in each option:: Okay. I get it. They are a bit silly. ::Sheila continued to stroke the top of the dog’s head:: You need a name that is strong. What about Hamlet or Loki? ::The dog only put their head back in the woman’s lap. Either they were growing tired as puppies do or uniquely uninterested in each option:: No, no. You’re right I can’t name you after some character. Alistair. Alistair. ::The name was said in Elaysian sounding quite different from the other suggestions:: It means warrior or helper. With the final suggestion Alistair sat up completely on alert. That must have been it. The correct name or at least the name that meant the most. Of course it was. With a name that meant warrior, helper or even defender of the people. Alistair was the perfect reminder of why he was here. He was strong so she herself could be strong. Just from him dragging about her blanket, for her, it was obvious he was born to be of service; a bit more training and they would be set. There was no doubt that Sheila and Alistair would make a fine pair. Alistair was going to be the best service dog in training, the best companion. He might even be considered a respectable medical officer. Lieutenant Sheila Bailey Assistant Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0 -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "StarBase 118 Ops a Star Trek PBEM RPG" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to sb118-ops+unsubscribe@googlegroups.com. To view this discussion on the web visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/sb118-ops/CAOop-PH5kNSxmNcnCRdtZE_awTGg0jmjk66z3-MvWRVbm8uiNw%40mail.gmail.com. Dog leash.jpeg 6 Month Elaysian puppy.jpg
  4. ((Starbase 118 - Marine Facilities, Lt. Meeks’ Office)) The typical day for a Marine involved many things, which included duty rotations, training, maintenance of equipment and the facilities, and whatever else needed to be done. For the company commander, the duties also included a ton of paperwork, reports, and recording all of the things done by the teams. For Tony, he felt he spent a lot more time doing the paperwork than actually doing the other stuff, so any chance to get his hands dirty made him jump at the opportunity. On this morning, Tony was at his desk (as usual), going over the training reports, checking on the progress of his team, and preparing future trainings based upon reports from the CIC. This allowed the teams to train for whatever may come, and prepare for whatever contingencies possible. He received a constant stream of messages over his PADD, and most of them only required a passing glance before they could be deleted and dismissed. One message caught his eye though, and he paused to read it a little more carefully. The message was from the last person he had expected to contact him, and even more unusual was the subject of the message. While it wasn’t unusual for requests to be made for training tutoring, there were a few people he never expected to make that request. After pondering the message, he tapped in a response accepting the request, and sent it. ((Timeskip - Later that afternoon, Holodeck 3)) Stepping into the dilapidated but usable gym, Yael found the program had supplied everything needed. Space, equipment, and the rudimentary padded floor. It was well equipped but worn, as if it had been used for years with hardly a cleaning. It was perfect. He was warming up, stretching, when the door to the gym opened again. Yael: Anthony! Thanks for coming. He’d asked the man to meet him here, and to be ready for some training. Admittedly, it might have been an odd thing for a counselor to say. But this would also give Ashley a good chance to catch up with the man and see how he was doing since their last session. Meeks: Of course, counselor. Happy to help. Yael: Is this okay? We could change programs if you prefer something else? Meeks: This’ll be fine. ::Looking around:: Your program? Looking around at the peeling paint, the air smelling like effort and sweat. He looked back to the Marine and [...]ed his head slightly to the side and smiled. Yael: I liked the ambiance. Meeks: Hey… ::Chuckling:: Whatever works. Tony sized up the Denobulan. The man was small in stature, which was not unusual for a Denobulan, but the typically passive nature of the culture intrigued the Marine. He wondered why a counselor, and a Denobulan, would have a desire to train in the combat arts. Meeks: So, what are we going to work on? The Denobulan hybrid slid off the pull-over and tossed it onto the floor aside them. The bruises on his arms and neck were probably still visible... gifts from his encounter with the Klingon from Verriar’s establishment… but thanks to Cadet Harper, his ribs felt good and he was walking fine. Now was time to choose a new aggressor… someone with the fortitude to literally punch past his defensive instincts. Yael: I need you to hit me. Now that was a request Tony had never had before. He had been asked not to hit someone, but to be asked to hit someone made him pause. Looking at the bruises that were visible on the man, he figured this wasn’t exactly the first time that request had been made by him. Meeks: ::Surprised by the request:: You want me to… what? Why? Yael: ::smiling again:: So I can learn how not to get hit. Meeks: Well, judging from those bruises, you’ve been getting hit a lot lately. The Denobulan tried not to smile suspiciously as he gave a quick thought to how he’d gained them. Yael: I’m pale. It makes them more apparent. Don’t let that stop you. Meeks: I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I help teach you how NOT to get hit. Yael: Also good. How do we do that? Meeks: The best defense is sometimes a good offense, but in absence of that, not getting your [...] kicked is better than the alternative. Ashley gave the Marine a good look now. He’d known the man would outclass him. He had a good nine inches on him in height, perhaps 80 or more pounds in weight? The blond hair, blue eyes, and friendly face were deceptive… if Meeks *wanted* to, he could simply flick him with a finger and knock him into next year's Bajoran Gratitude Festival. He had professional training though, and had probably taught before, seeing as how he was his unit leader. Yael: I’m not under any delusion I’m a heavy hitter, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t want you to go easy on me. Otherwise this is a waste of both of our time. Meeks: Oh, trust me, you’re gonna get hit... a lot. Don’t worry about that. Yael: ::taking a breath, steeling himself:: Okay. But if I cry, you can’t tell anyone. He joked with a light laugh as he stepped onto the mat. It wasn’t spongy by any means, but would buffer the harder hits and falls. Meeks: So, I have to ask. Is there a reason you are wanting to learn how to fight? A reason? Of course the Marine would want a reason. Semi prepared for the question, but still hesitating slightly with the answer, he certainly wasn’t going to give a long winded speech about evolving as a person. Yael: I’ve been through enough to know that… what’s the Human saying? Those who don’t carry a sword can still die upon them? Meeks: I suppose that’s true. Yael: I’ve got no experience at this. When it comes down to it… I have to depend on those around me, to preserve my own safety. I’m just trying to tip the scale. Meeks: I would imagine you would always have a security detail if you were on an away mission. Yael: Nobody wants to be a burden. That sounded a lot better than “Nobody wants to be a victim.” Meeks: I don’t think you would be a burden, but I get where you’re coming from. Yael: Shall we get started then? ((Time Skip - 23 Minutes)) Stepping to the center of the floor, Tony took a position facing Ashley. They stepped into motion and within a few moves, Tony had defeated Ashley’s advance and grounded him. This identified the counselor’s experience level, which was consistent with the basic training provided through the Academy. While this was essentially adequate as a foundation for self defense, as it related to Starfleet personnel under most controlled situations, the training was woefully inadequate for any real combat scenario. The pair reset and staged, facing each other once again. Tony explained some theories of the use of an opponent’s motion and inertia against the opponent, as well as assisting the defender using the forces applied by the attacker. After these explanations, Tony took the position of the attacker and demonstrated one of the theories at about half speed. Again, Ashley’s attempts to defend were easily overcome, leaving him facing the ceiling. Time after time, the results were the same, which was to be expected. Ashley was taking in the information though, even if he didn’t know it. Each reset lended a lesson, and the lesson was making it to action. With each reset, the effort Tony was having to take to floor his opponent was greater than the last. Unfortunately for Ashley, that might not have been felt by him. The sound of the body hitting the floor echoed in the rafters high above. A short yelp of pain that was more shock than actual pain. Panting. They’d only just started and he was sweating his choice already. Ashley stared into the ceiling for a moment, clenched his jaw at the spiders crawling INSIDE his skin. His lack of coordination was a real problem, but he couldn’t tell if it was that or the lack of skill that truly made him pathetic. He took one more breath and pushed himself up with a grunt. He gave a tug at one of his electro-stabilizing devices… they were firmly in place, it was his skin he wanted to claw off. Despite his internal struggle, he kept a relatively calm face… aside the now permanent furrow of his eyebrows. Yael: oO FOCUS. Oo Let me try that again. Meeks: You sure? Yael: I can get it. Meeks: Alright then. One more time. The end results were the same, but that would be expected considering the counselor’s experience level. There had been improvement though, even if Yael didn’t realize it. Tony had been instructing in hand to hand combat for a while, and had many students. He had learned to see the smallest changes in a person’s abilities, and there had been improvement. Meeks: Alright, counselor. I think that’s a good place to call it a day. Tired of his view of the ceiling, Ashley pushed up from the floor again, but remained sitting. Yael: So soon? Meeks: ::Tossing Ashley a towel:: If we push it too far, the learning stops. There’s no reason to get hurt here. The Denobulan was frustrated already, it was true. But too stubborn to give in to it, even if it was the smarter course. So he pushed, insisting. Yael: I can keep going. Meeks: Are you training for a prize fight tonight? ::Not waiting for an answer:: What you need now, is a hot shower and maybe a couple ice packs. That was a very firm “no” if he’d ever heard one, so he sighed in resignation, but he was unsettled and unsteady as he pushed up to stand, pressing the towel to his face to keep the sweat stinging his eyes. Yael: Okay … okay… ::giving in, he forced a smile:: … who am I to tell the unit leader “no,” right? Meeks: There’s always tomorrow. Let today settle in and we can come back to it. Yael: ::recentering himself:: How have you been sleeping, anyway? Is the medication helping? Meeks: ::Wiping his face and letting the towel settle on his shoulder:: Sleep has been hit and miss. I think it’s better though. The meds definitely help. Yael: Still dreaming? ::running the towel on the back of his neck:: Meeks: Not as bad. When they do happen, they're not in technicolor anymore. The dreams had come and gone nightly, but the severity was not as poignant. The perseverating thoughts were still there though, but were a bit easier to put aside. Suddenly, Tony realized the counselor had turned the tables, and the teacher had quickly become the student. Yael: Good. You’re on the right track then. I have a few other tricks up my sleeve, if you want to continue doing sessions. Meeks: Can I buy you a drink, counselor? Ashley blinked twice at that. What he really wanted to do was hit the sonic shower and claw his skin off. But if Anthony wanted to talk… now, while they smelled like this? Granted, Meeks had probably had to put out far less effort than he had. It could be important. He balanced the options, going to be alone and therapeutically screaming, or… helping his crewmate. He hesitated answering, but restrained said clawing and screaming. Yael: Now? ::unsure if he should, pausing briefly, but choosing:: Sure? Meeks: I bet wherever we go will smell better than this place. ::Smiling as he motioned to the room around them:: Yael: ::glancing around, and laughing lightly:: It *is* pretty ramshackle, isn’t it… ok. Lead the way. ((Promenade - Kael’s Pub)) Ashley carefully held his drink with both hands… they were shaking from the workout. In fact his entire body was vibrating with the leftover adrenaline. He’d put his pullover back on, and thankfully, the instinct to claw at the invisible spiders was lessening… more a dull hum now than an overwhelming wave. Being in public, with Meeks, made it difficult to let himself give in to it. He’d only wanted water… ice water… and he drank a bit greedily at first, leaving himself quickly with half a glass. Glancing over the small table at the Marine, he wondered. Tony on the other hand, ordered a pint of ale and a bowl of nuts. When the pint glass arrived, head of the ale spilling over slightly, cascading onto the table top, Tony collected the glass and took a long pull off the top. Yael: Was there something you wanted to say? ::pausing, but not really waiting:: If you’re not doing so well, it’s *ok.* There are other methods. Meeks: I think I’m doing better, Doc. I’m just not 100% yet. Yael: There’s an ultrasound therapy I was wondering if you’d like to try. Sort of a medical assist. It’s the little brother to electro-shock therapy. It helps the brain reset and form new neural connections. Meeks: Zapping my brain? Yael: It’s completely painless. I just have to give medical the word, and… He droned off slightly, as it seemed very much Anthony was thinking of something else. Ashley sent a hand up to rub his neck, fingers running over a few of his spinal ridges… he was a bit stiff and ached all over after being thrown around, and the ice cold condensation from the glass felt good against the heated skin. Meeks: It might be worth a shot. ::Noticing Ashley nursing his neck:: You okay? Maybe you need to see medical yourself. ::Chidingly:: Yael: Ah. ::laughing lightly:: No, I’m good. You didn’t break anything. I’m sure you were holding back for my sake. Meeks: So… you want to tell me the real reason we were in that gym today? There was a pause, a rapid moment of thought, and a forced smile. Yael: Was I that terrible at it? If you feel it’s a waste of your time, I understand. Meeks: Training is never a waste of time. I’m just looking for your motivation… your drive. Crap. Ashley needed to say something smart sounding. Yael: Just… I mentioned... improving my weak points? Well *that* sounded super convincing… the Denobulan hybrid internally facepalmed at having phrased it as a question. It was like he was *asking* Anthony to believe him. Meeks: Your position doesn’t necessarily put you into harms way, as a general rule. ::Nodding to the braces on Ashley’s forearms:: It looks to me like you’re trying to prove to yourself you can do this. Yael: ::leaning back, psychologically putting a little more space between them:: Is it that strange? He paused, glancing down at the ale in the Humans hands almost longingly for a moment, then continued. Yael: I’m pushing things, I know. ::glancing back up at the Marine, he gave a small smile that he hoped was convincing:: But it’s under control. Nothing to worry about. Tony watched and listened to the man. The words, the affect in the voice, the body language, all of what Ashley was saying in the totality of the communication spoke volumes. Tony knew and understood challenges, but what Ashley was facing was far beyond anything Tony had ever had to experience or endure. Meeks: Would it be too much to ask about the braces? What’s the story? There was an expansive moment of silence that dragged out into discomfort. Ashley had known that *someone* would ask eventually. Had at least half a dozen explanations prepared in advance to dismiss queries on the subject. But now that he was actually faced with the question… looking Anthony in the eyes… he found them all distasteful. Maybe it was because he was sitting across the table from someone he admired, but he didn’t want to hide who or what he was anymore. He had always hidden it… but wasn’t he becoming a different person? Could he emulate the bravery of a Marine, even if he could never fill those shoes? Yael: I have a neurological condition. It’s called Theorons. It starts with a loss of fine motor control. These are… ::he held up his hands, looking at the braces::... electro-stabilizers. They alter the signals sent from my brain to my hands, to control the tremor. Without these, I can’t buckle my boots, and it isn’t going to get better. He spoke calmly, matter-of-factly, but there was a growing knot in his stomach. But now that he’d started, he didn’t stop. Yael: I don’t tell people about it because I’m already the small guy in the room, and I’ve got a chip on my shoulder about it. People underestimate me from the start. I want to be known for what I *can* do. Not what I can’t. Trouble is… I grew up in the Federation, always protected… by people like you. So *I* don’t even know what I can and can’t do, and I’m trying to figure that out. He kept eyes on the man, trying to exude the confidence he didn’t feel… and waited. Meeks: ::Taking another pull from his ale, emptying the glass:: I think it takes balls to do what you’re doing. After signalling the waiter for another ale, Tony turned back to his conversation with Ashley. He took a moment and watched the man as he struggled with telling his story. He knew it was difficult for Ashley to give such intimate details, but his respect for his new friend grew by the moment. Yael: You’re… what? You’re not... Meeks: You gave me a prescription for twice weekly visits to try and get my noodle figured out. ::tapping his right temple:: Let’s do the same thing here. Twice a week, you and I will meet in that smelly ol’ gym. I’ll teach you what you want to know, for as long as you want to learn. Ashley felt something imperative but didn’t have the words to describe it. Balls? His brain had frozen watching Anthony take that last, long drink, motioning for another, and… the man had given not one shred of unwanted pity, or needed comforting at the knowledge, or apologized clumsily for what he couldn’t possibly control, or asked invasive medical questions, or treated him like he was *breakable*. None of the typical and terrible responses people always had. Meeks gave him instant acceptance with the ease of taking a drink. Yael: ::suddenly breathing… he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath:: You’re still going to work with me? Meeks: ::Thanking the waiter when his new glass of ale arrived, then turning back to Ashley:: I don’t give a squirt of snot about those things. ::Nodding to the braces:: Those are an obstacle, nothing more. Your… illness is only that, an obstacle. Yael: That’s right. The Denobulan agreed, and breathed, and the knot in his stomach unkinked. He took down the last of his glass of water, the ice having melted away. It felt good not to be made of glass. ~~~ Ensign Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops & 2Lt. Anthony Meeks Company Commander 1/292nd TMR D Co. Starbase 118 Ops/USS Narindra R238801IG0
  5. ((Starbase 118 - Counseling Offices)) Being healthy was of major importance for a Marine, both to the Corps and the members of the United Federation of Planets they serve. Physical health was often achieved through good diet and an abundance of physical exercise. Mental health needed a special touch from someone who was trained to see the warning signs of psychological injury, and then provide relevant options to create a healing environment for the patient. Much like a cardiologist works on the heart, the psychiatrist or psychologist works on the brain. After the last mission, Anthony needed the brain specialist for sure. Leaving the turbolift, Anthony finished his coffee as he walked. The closer he came to the counseling offices, the slower he found himself walking, and almost had to push himself forward. His feet felt heavy and he felt his heart rate had increased. He didn’t know why he had such trepidation, but it was there. At the doorway to the offices, he stood silently. He hadn’t pushed the button to allow entry into the center, and for a long moment he just stood, staring at the doors. He was just about to turn away when the doors opened and there stood one of the counselors he was so afraid to talk to. Yael: ::surprised, suddenly and closely facing the Human man in the doorway:: Oh! Hello. Ashley had been reviewing the crew files and was just about to step out the doorway, but instead he stepped back slightly and looked up. The man in the doorway towered over the Denobulan hybrid. But he tucked his surprise away, quickly evaluating the knitted brows, dark circles, and long gaze in the blue eyes looking down at him. How long had he been standing out there? Meeks: Um… I’m Anthony. I think I should talk to somebody. Yael: Ensign Yael. ::quickly stepping back by an arms length:: Is now good for you? Meeks: Yeah. Now works fine for me. Yael: Please. Yael motioned for the man to enter the office, turning himself and making his way back into the office. Stepping into the office, Anthony followed the counselor to a very cushy office. The decor was sparse, as if he had just started moving in. Anthony didn’t know any of the counselors, so he wouldn’t have known that was exactly the case. Taking a seat, Anthony sat upright waiting for whatever came next. Meeks: Thank you for fitting me in today. Yael: It’s no problem at all. You can come to me any time, day or night. He smiled that disarming smile, taking his seat across the desk, and lifting the mug with his still-hot coffee. It was rather early for a walk in. Yael: If my memory serves me, you’re one of our Marine officers? Meeks: I am. I command Delta Company. Yael: How have you been sleeping, Anthony? You seem a bit drawn. Anthony didn’t think he looked that bad when he assessed himself in the mirror before leaving his quarters. He hadn’t slept very well since returning from the mission, which was only a couple of nights. He had hoped the pervasive thoughts, and bad dreams would clear up on their own. Meeks: Not very well, honestly… bad dreams. Tapping quickly on the computer next to him, bringing up the mans psych file. Anthony Meeks, Marine, a few awards to his name, exemplary service. All the typical stuff. He’d been in for the required assessments but had never come in voluntarily. Yael: I’ve read the mission logs for the recent engagement, with the Borg. ::pausing:: How did the mission go for you? Meeks: The mission went as well as could be expected, I think. We brought out a bunch of people who wouldn’t have made it otherwise. The resistance was pretty intense. To say it was intense was an understatement, and it felt like the only reason his team made it was because of divine intervention. There were a few moments where he wasn’t sure they would get out alive, or at least unassimilated. Yael: Were you injured? Meeks: Nothing our medical team couldn’t fix. A couple of broken ribs and a banged up shoulder. There were others with a lot worse. Yael: It sounds like it was quite serious. How are you feeling? Meeks: I’m feeling good. Back in the gym, training with one of the Academy cadets. She keeps me on my toes for sure. Anthony’s training sessions with Kherys Harper were something he looked forward to. They had made an ongoing “date” to train, which became a time where he could release some of the pent up physical energy he had. Meeks: The thing that’s really bugging me, Doc, is the dreams. I can’t get some of it out of my head. Isn’t there some sort of concoction you could give me to make ‘em go away? He knew the answer to that question before he even asked it. The whole reason for the counseling session was to talk about the problem and find ways to organize the thoughts and experiences in a way that would be sensible to his brain. He knew this from his medical training, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear at the moment. Ashley leaned forward on his elbows, the Marine the center of his attention. Yael: There are a few things we could try to help you sleep. However, they would be *temporary* measures. Far better to see if we can do some restructuring of your coping mechanisms, so that you sleep better naturally. ::pausing:: How long have you been active duty, Anthony? Meeks: ::Sighs:: I’ve been a Marine for a little over seven years, but this was my first real combat. Yael: This is the first time you’ve been injured on duty? Meeks: Other than really minor stuff, it is. There were always little things that happened, especially during some of the more intense trainings he had engaged in. There had never been any major injuries though. Yael: Have you experienced any abnormal jumpiness while awake? Intrusive thoughts? Meeks: Well, there are times I can’t stop playing it over in my mind. It’s the “what if” thing, I guess. If i’d have done something different, then I wouldn’t have had to do some of the things I did. Sometimes I just can’t shake it. Yael: Any hyper-awareness of your surroundings? Meeks: ::Allows a forced chuckle:: Hyper-awareness is what keeps me alive, Doc. Yael: ::nodding intently:: What are you dreaming about? If you don’t mind telling me about them. Meeks: The dreams. Well, really it’s like re-living the entire thing, but in pieces. It’s not always right though. Sometimes I win, but there are times… He trailed off, not wanting to think about what happened if he lost. Meeks: There were a lot of lives at stake, and losing wasn’t an option, regardless of the cost. Yael: Of course. Anthony felt like he had created a larger burden than he needed to by dumping all of this on the counselor. In fact, he almost regretted saying anything at this point because it bared a whole lot more of his soul to a man he had only barely met, and that was something he wasn’t very comfortable with. He knew however, it was a necessary evil. Meeks: I probably should let you get back to your work. I’ve taken up a bunch of your day already. Yael: On the contrary. This is *precisely* why I’m here. ::pausing:: I’m going to hold off on a formal diagnosis, but it sounds very much that you may have emergent PTSD. Meeks: Does it have to have a label? I really don’t wanna be that guy. Yael: I know you want to get on with things and get back to your normal activities, but I feel we should take this seriously. I’d like to get ahead of it before it potentially worsens and impacts your quality of life. ::pausing:: I’m going to recommend a short course of sedatives, to help you sleep. On the condition that you return for a course of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It should help you process what’s happened, ease the dreams, limit your need for medication, and help steel you against future stressors, which… for a Marine, could be extremely useful. It involves a series of between 4 and 12 sessions, depending on how things go. Meeks: Therapy? Is all that really necessary? Yael: It’s a psychological weapon in our arsenal. And you want to use every weapon you’ve got to gain the advantage, don’t you? Anthony felt his stomach sink. The counselor was right, of course, and it would be a far cry from right for him to fight against it. Not only would it put his fitness for duty in jeopardy, but it would set a very poor example for his team if he didn’t follow his own rules. Meeks: Of course I do. That’s what we do. Yael: If it helps, think of it as psychological training. To become a Marine you went through Boot Camp, then a specializing school. They break you down, build you back up. That’s what we do. ::pausing:: With a little less of the breaking you down part. Meeks: ::Forcing a smile:: I appreciate the not getting broken down part. Honestly, I’ll do whatever it takes to get back on top. Yael: I’ll call in the sedative to the medical bay. They’ll either provide you a pre-loaded hypo-spray, or have to stop by in the evenings to administer the dosage. That is up to Doctor Bailey’s discretion. And I’ll expect you back here twice a week in the meantime. Meeks: ::sigh:: twice a week. Whatever you think is necessary, Doc. He liked the half Denobulan Dr. He felt like Dr. Yael had a real concern for his wellness, not one brought on by duty but by actual interest in how he was doing. Because of this, Anthony felt he was more inclined to do what the doctor needed him to do. Meeks: should we set a running date? My schedule is usually pretty open when I need it to be. Yael: Mondays and Thursdays, at 1300. Meeks: That will work. I’ll put it on my calendar. Is this going to require homework? Yael: ::smiling:: There will be some, nothing strenuous. For the next couple nights though, I just want you to get some solid sleep. Meeks: All right, I’ll see you then. Anthony left the room, and despite his trepidation he felt like he had a chance to make himself right again. Besides that, he kind of liked the counselor, which made it easy. Yael drank a bit more of his coffee and mused. Usually he got a *lot* more pushback from Marines, so it was nice to have one that saw the value in this type of self-preservation. He jotted down a few notes and ideas in the man's psych file while they were fresh in his mind, but for now he would avoid the dreaded label “PTSD.” Ensign Ashley Yael Counselor Starbase 118 Ops & 2Lt. Anthony Meeks Company Commander 1/292nd TMR D Co. Starbase 118 Ops/USS Narindra R238801IG0
  6. OOC - in my 2am haze I grabbed the wrong sim >.< Let's try this again ❤️ This was raw and beautifully written ~*~ ((Ejectable Quarantine Labs - Starbase 118)) (Day of -> 2 Days after the Narendra’s return) The pods that’d been transported had been added to a storage frame repurposed from the cargo areas, leaving them looking less like isolation pods and more like massive construction pieces. Taelon was vaguely reminded of the massive pipes he’d seen being transported by the cargo runners he’d gotten to Earth with. Either way, it gave the rescue operation something of an industrial air, especially when the massive cargo loaders picked them up and slid them into the ejectable labs. The first stage was - well, barbaric, but necessary. He’d sealed himself into a section of the ejectables so he could monitor progress without having to open the suite to outside comms, and the usually shy and reticent El-Aurian watched with a strange coldness as the drones were dragged from their isolation pods onto a flat table, the spider-like remote surgery robots going to work with abandon. Limps were removed entirely; replaced eyes and skull pieces were deconstructed and taken away, leaving open voids in the skull. It happened quickly; the robots worked incredibly quickly, and within half an hour what had been a tactical drone was a limbless human, their skull open through the eye socket. Their pale skin was unhealthy and drained of life after years in the Borg’s grasp. But the attaching of life-saving backup systems and stitches could only come when the nanites were gone, and Taelon stared intently at his monitors as his countermeasures went to work as soon as a section was removed. An internal battle for control was never going to be healthy for the host, and small bruises appeared on the human’s skin as the nanite’s fighting ruptured small blood vessels. It was awful, what the Borg did - removing and assimilating whatever they didn’t need. Taelon had been raised to see cybernetics as something quite normal, desirable even - but they were supposed to help and enhance a willing subject, not be applied as a method of control. The Borg’s cybernetics were a way to force a living being to serve them. It made him sick to see it. Thankfully the sealed-off nature of the quarantine labs neutralised the Borg’s greatest advantage. With no hivemind to connect to and take information from, they could only adapt slightly. It was a rare advantage against the Borg, one that made any of this possible. The process took about an hour on the first subject. The limbless, unconscious body was hurriedly moved to a second bay within the lab, this one with an entrance to the Starbase itself, and attached to life-sustaining backup systems and monitors. The next step was Doctor Foster’s - to remove and replace the infested and dying organs and seal up any openings. The third step - full replacement of their now-missing limbs and non-required pieces - would come days later. Taelon had plans for that, too, but for now his priority was the drones. They could live in status once removed from their Borg parts, but they wouldn’t live forever in the pods. He sealed the connected section and sent it away towards the medical bays, taking a moment to rub his eyes. He’d brought only a large thermos of coffee and a scone into the lab with him, and that’d have to do. Once the process had started, he’d no intention of stopping til all the drones they’d managed to grab were in a safer state. Eventually, as exhaustion set in, he set his ARIA to play music. It kept him awake, and as he worked, it was easier to coordinate movement and steps to the beat. And so the process went on, drone after drone. Some were faster, some took longer; the tactical drones in particular were the most difficult, as the Borg had done the most damage to them. The Andromeda’s crew were faster; most got to keep their limbs, eyes, and organs. A small mercy, considering what the rescued full drones looked like. In the end, Galven was one of the final pods, the Commander’s unconscious body slid onto the table. He was simple, thankfully - he only had a flood of nanites in his system. But they’d injected into his heart and brain, and so Taelon tiredly watched the lifesigns as the nanites battled things out, the man’s heart surging and bleeding, his brain misfiring and sending his limbs twitching. It was difficult to watch, but necessary. Eventually, Taelon’s crafted nanites won out, again. With Galven sent along the process line to medical, Taelon slid down the wall of his observation chamber, slumping to the floor. It’d been close to 40 hours; his thermos was empty, the food long gone. His body was protesting with every muscle. Still, as things were closed off, he reached to the control panel and flipped the switch. It sent the signal to eject the lab, leaving the observation chamber in the airlock as the lab was jettisoned into space. A final precaution to ensure no loose nanites made it onto the station. Only when the observation pod had been cleaned completely did he stand up, shakily, and step out of it into the airlock. The blank, opened-ended area was a contrast to the lab that had sat there just a few moments ago. He hurried to the doors, tapping his commbadge. Taelon: =/\= Doc-doctor - ::He couldn’t help but pause to yawn.:: =/\= That’s the last of the, of the drones. I’m - I’m on my way to Medical now. =/\= Foster: ? Taelon: =/\= P-provided they’re all stable and in, um, in stasis, we can start the next step. =/\= Foster: ? Taelon: =/\= Rebuilding. Should start from the inside out, organs, then limbs… =/\= Foster: ? Tag/Tbc Ensign Taelon Starbase 118 OPs O239303T10
  7. A really lovely conversation that shows both characters beautifully ❤️ ((Starbase 118 Ops - Karen Stendhal’s Office)) Alora stood outside the doors that led to the office of one of the base’s counselors. She had requested an appointment and been assigned Karen Stendhal. She inhaled three times, small steps. Small steps. Then she let go. As much as Alora appreciated counseling, and knew it was useful and helpful, it was still hard to go. She encouraged others, but she also understood their hesitation. With Raymond, she had a great rapport. They were friends. Talking to him was easy. However, he suggested she get established with a counselor on her station. Raymond was available when he could be, and he would continue to do so, but he said it was good to establish with someone who could be present in person. So...Alora was going to take his advice. At least this was someone with whom she was passingly familiar. Karen Stendhal had been one of the women she’d met at the tea shoppe, so at least she wasn’t a complete stranger. Finally, Alora stepped forward and the doors parted. Stepping into the office, Alora smiled at the woman she hadn’t seen much of since their little tea party. Karen was just finishing to get the things done in her new office. She chose a new area after she took over Malko, the previous counselor of the Station, cos she thought that a fresh start would be better and also cos the crew was used to him and probably everybody was still missing him or waiting for his return. The office now was looking more like her one aboard of USS Columbia, or at least in her mind it was. A large sofa next to a smaller one with a tea table, few chairs, a big holographic painting representing the pink lake of Mitzawal with the forest cherry of happiness in flower. Piles of pad was on her new desk, loads of files still waiting for her. She still didn’t had time to finish, also because the previous mission. DeVeau: Hi Karen. Stendhal: Hi Alora. It's nice to see you again. Said Karen with a gentle handshake with both of her hands. A deep look in her eyes for an empathic preview of the reasons of her visit, but without any ‘intrusions’ of her thoughts... DeVeau: Yeah. I uh...thought I’d come in, get established with a counselor. You know, that sort of thing. Stendhal: Yeah, you know that I’m quite new here? I’m certainly still establishing here as a counselor! Do you like a cuppa tea and a chat? She smiled blinking her eyes as she noticed that she feelt a bit uneasy to go to for counseling, so she tried to drop it to a simply chat with a friend. DeVeau: Tea would be great. And appropriate considering how they met. Besides, tea always made a situation better. DeVeau:. I prefer herbal, though, if that's okay. Stendhal: Well, no worries! Do you know that probably you are the first one coming here? What an honor! She jokes, showing up a posh box with a large choice of herbal tea bags. Alora chuckled softly as she sat down on the smaller sofa in lieu of one of the chairs. DeVeau: Being new doesn't make you any less capable. You were the one listed with an open appointment at the time I requested, so it worked out well. Stendhal: Well, I’m glad that I was free, so hopefully I’ll be able to help you. Karen slowly walked to the large sofa sitting down on the side closer as possible to Alora. She had a thought back about her first experience on board of the Columbia, with Luna and her pink hairs. She smiled as the dark hairs of Alora was certainly an improvement. The kettle was ready on the small table so she poured the tea in two cups. An Herbal tea and a decaf tea with a shot of milk for herself. Alora accepted the warm cup of tea and sipped at it. It was a light and fruity concoction, right up her alley. She detected hints of some citrus fruit, possibly Bajoran in origin along with some sort of spice that was similar to cinnamon, but with a little cooler pallette. DeVeau: Thank you. Stendhal: You’re very welcome! Don’t forget to pick up a cookie with your tea! You have to accept a cookie in order to interact with me. On the small table there was also a selection of various kinds of biscuits..There was also a cuddling relaxing music in the background. Alora examined them a moment before picking up a chocolate chip cookie. Chocolate always improved things. DeVeau:. We'll, I'm not sure where to start. I'll admit to feeling awkward. Karen joined her hands together but touching the end of her fingers only. Stendhal: From the beginning? Or whatever place you feel more comfortable with? We can even just talk about your experiences and how you feel now that you’re back aboard the Station? Anything… Anything. It was such an open ended invitation, it really didn’t help, though Alora knew the counselor was trying to prevent limiting her. DeVeau: Ah, back aboard the station. It’s good to be back home. It always is, especially after a mission. Especially after a mission that involved the Borg! Even if it was a rogue collective, they still gave her the heebie jeebies. DeVeau: I know you were on that mission too. I have to admit, I’m glad it’s over. Stendhal: Yes I was on the mission too and I’m very glad it is over too. Karen had a sip of tea. DeVeau: The Borg frighten me - and that’s putting it mildly. I would say getting assimilated is one of my worst nightmares. One of them, but not the top one. She had others that overshadowed even that. Unfortunately, they weren’t of what could be, but what had already come to pass. Stendhal: Sorry Alora, are you here to talk about our fear of the Borg? Karen had another sip of her tea looking for her reactions in a kind way, always smiling. At the first look Alora DeVeau was a strong one, with a very stable personality, and a beautiful woman. Karen looked directly in her eyes, there was something deeper, something not in her record. Alora hesitated. Not really, no, though that was certainly something they could talk about and work on processing, but there were other reasons why she had come. The problem was, trying to open up. Getting started was the worst part. Once she got started, sometimes it was easier. Sometimes. Karen moved even closer, risking to fall on the floor because she was sitting now in a tiny tiny space on the edge of the sofa. She took one of her PADD abandoned on the tea table and she tapped something, then she put it on her lap. Stendhal: mm… She just said, like an almost silent affirmation. DeVeau: I suppose that might be good to discuss. It was true, but it also wasn’t the main reason why she was coming. The main reason was difficult. Extremely difficult. Alora wasn’t sure she could talk about that - even if the woman was nice and approachable. Raymond had been there when everything had happened. He’d come to visit her in Sickbay. This was a bit of a different scenario - even if Alora knew it was necessary. DeVeau: It was...interesting, facing that fear, I guess. Okay, not interesting. Terrifying. Karen's left eyebrow moved up a bit, Alora was holding something very deeply. Under the surface and behind those green eyes. Anyway, she wouldn't force her too much. oO She will open up when it will be the right time! Oo She thought. Stendhal: Yes terrifying, I don't like the Borg, well who likes them? Have you met them in person? DeVeau: I haven’t, but I suppose there’s going to be a first time. The Borg don’t seem to be going away. Stendhal: I agree, I'm afraid that they won't give up easily…For sure I won't suggest anymore to use nanities as a shortcut to solve a problem! I did that when we were researching about the deadly fog. Bad idea!!! DeVeau: Oh? Now Alora was curious. She nibbled on her cookie, then took a sip of the tea before asking. DeVeau: Why do you say that? Stendhal: Cos there was really a risk to lose control of the nanites, little or big now we know what’s happened to the USS Nimitz. DeVeau: But if there's an effective way to fight an enemy, particularly using technology that they use, shouldn’t that be done? Stendhal: We find a safer way using different technologies, with little robots to get rid of the poisonous gas. Much better than playing God with nanites…There’s also some theories about the species 001, at the beginning they were like us… Then to reach the perfection they started to include the ‘synthetic’ and the nano tech. We know how it finished... DeVeau: Why do you think it was playing God? Stendhal: Uh ? Err isn't It some kind of unnatural manipulation of things? Like… what's happened, you know, the eugenics like Khan and brothers? DeVeau: What about those who currently have nanites? Those who need them to survive? What about those who don’t currently have nanites, but whose lives were saved because of them? What if there were a way to safely control them and be sure they wouldn’t pose a threat? Karen paused for a moment, for Alora that topic was something of? Personal? Stendhal: Well everybody thinks to be able to control them, but then we finish in a Nimitz situation… Everything screwed up, with a bunch of drones with pseudolatin nicknames killing and assimilating everything and everybody... DeVeau: Right, but the nanites we’re dealing with are not of our creation, they aren’t of our technology. What’s to say, though, that we can’t learn from that? What’s to say we can’t find way to improve and make that technology Stendhal: Maybe one day we'll do, but for now isn't it like with the eugenics? If used well it may improve our life, but is illegal, because the improved humans become dangerous at one point. Anyway… Do you have any experience with nanites? Karen tapped something else on her pad.. DeVeau: Some, though this is the first time I’ve dealt with the Borg themselves. Though Alora did have to admit, her experience with them was minimal and had only been in the context of missions. She was a Botanist and a Zoologist, so that was where her specialties lay, though that hadn’t stopped captains from assigning her to deal with scientific concepts outside of those specialties. She’d learned from the beginning that all officers had to be flexible and adaptable. DeVeau: Do you? Stendhal: Nope not really, not before last mission. Anyway I didn't mean the Borg, but the nanites in general and the one builded in labs for medical research …It seems that for you is really an important matter… DeVeau: Really? I was about to say it sounds like an important matter to you. Alora’s lips curled up in a small smile. DeVeau: You certainly seem to have strong feelings about them. Have you had previous experiences, not necessarily with the nanites themselves, but with bad consequences related to the Borg or other nanites? Stendhal: No, not really... DeVeau: I’m curious, then, why you seem to have such a strong stance against them. Stendhal: This must be a misunderstanding of some kind here. Karen nervously had another sip of tea, who was counseling who now? DeVeau: Yes, you mentioned eugenics, and that is illegal, but is manipulating the genetic cold of a preborn person the same as using nanites? If so, how? Why is there no difference between them? Stendhal: I don’t know, honestly is just an opinion in front of a cup of tea. Well, it seems like you had raised up your ‘shields’ instead of opening and relaxing, my dear … Now what do you like to do? DeVeau: Actually, no, I'm quite relaxed. I found the conversation interesting. It seemed to matter to you as well. Alora sipped at her own tea, her smile hidden only briefly. DeVeau:. It's a topic that requires discussion and contemplation, and certainly not one with easy answers. However, by talking about it, it helps us wrestle with the hard questions while, at the same time, allows us to learn more about others as well as ourselves. ::She paused for a moment to allow herself to finish her cup before continuing.:: Is there anything you would like to discuss? Stendhal: Well, you are not an easy client, did you know that? DeVeau: I am? Stendhal: Alora, the fact that you come here means that probably you have something to talk about you... Statistically and in my experience is about family issues about the choice of starfleet or similar, but it can also be about love, work or some issues related to workmates. I don't think you are in this categories.You seem strong and in good health conditions too. She smiled at Alora. So did that mean Karen didn’t think she needed counseling? Raymond might have something to say about that, but Alora wasn’t going to argue. She liked Karen, but she just wasn’t feeling the comfort she needed to feel to open up to the woman. DeVeau: ::With a giggle and a grin.:: Does that mean I get a clean bill of health? Stendhal: Ehm not really, my dear. You won a weekly appointment with me. It will take what it takes, one hour, one month or one forever! Do you prefer Tuesday or Thursday? She smiled. DeVeau: Tuesday, after my shift is over. Which could change, depending on what was needed and when, but Alora was pretty sure the counselors knew that. DeVeau: Will that work for you? Stendhal: Yes of course. That will be perfect! DeVeau: Great, I’ll see you then. Stendhal: See you and thanks for the nice conversation. Can't wait for our next one. She smiled again. Alora rose and nodded, returning the smile. As she left, however, she was unsatisfied. Karen was extremely nice. So sweet. But...Alora just didn’t feel like she had clicked. Of course, that could also simply be because she hadn’t given her enough time. She supposed only time would tell. ******* Liutenant JG Karen Trisha Stendhal Counselor Starbase 118 Ops ID: C239604KS0 & Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau Science Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239008AD0
  8. ((Holodeck 23, StarBase 118)) German had been feeling rather nostalgic about the moment when he started training as a cadet two years ago up until more recent days. A little over a year ago, the Denobulan was given the opportunity to become a training officer himself which was one of the more exciting things he enjoys doing. Any time the Academy Commandant would allow him to be either the training commanding officer, first officer, or disguised as a mock cadet, he’d waste little time to get ready to teach the future officers of Starfleet. One of his most memorable classes was with a Risian female cadet named Charlena Vanlith who he had read that she was making a name for herself in the Shoals aboard the USS Veritas. Knowing that there’d be a rough connection due to the tetryon fields that more often than not blocked any way of communication to be sent, German waited for a freighter to be shipped out from Ops to the Shoals. He had spoken with the owner of the freighter if he could send some communication beacon like probes and have them be placed in the direction he went out in space to hopefully be a temporary way to meet with Charlena. As he waited, German had figured up an encryption code so there'd be no way for anyone to break through the firewall. First, he typed in his Denobulan language, translated the first bit of coding to Klingon, and finished with a mix of Trill and El-Aurian. After a few weeks of radio silence, he had been given confirmation that the probe breadcrumbs were set and ready to be turned on. German approached the holodeck and punched in his encryption codes to turn on the bandwidth frequencies inside the probes and transmitted the data between his location to where the Veritas was. He glanced down at his PADD and watched with anticipation as each light illuminated signaling it was working, then German walked into the holodeck. Galven: Lieutenant Vanlith? Can you hear or see me? Vanlith: Commander Galven yes I can hear and see you. How is it on your end? They both had to configure their respective systems to get better holographic imaging software which gained momentum as it began updating. A few seconds went by and while it was still fuzzy in some areas, German could definitely make out the officer in front of him. Galven: Much better. ::smiles:: You're looking more exquisite by the day. Vanlith: ::smiling:: well it is good to see you. It's been far too long. Is it a year? Galven: I believe it has. Since then when we last saw each other during Mei'konda's promotional party, I'm now on Ops. ::chuckles:: Time flies. How have you been? Vanlith: I've been good. There's been some changes around here since then which took some getting used to. Teller and Addison leaving and now G'var is off. All for what is best for them so it's not too sad but it's definitely different. Less sea shanties in engineering now. He definitely could still hear Teller's sea shanties in his head whenever German tried to sleep. Being roommates was certainly an adventure. Galven: I understand how you must feel. My first post was the Veritas, then transferred to the Montreal which led me to the short lived Astraeus when just after a few short months, I was transferred to Ops without knowing a single person. It's certainly hard, but remember what you trained for. Sorry for talking so much. How are you holding up? Vanlith: I'm doing well. Engineering keeps me on my toes and with us just having dealt with pirates I'm happy that shore leave has come now. Gavlen: Pirates? What happened there? Vanlith: It's all rather complicated but some pirates turned up on the Veritas with a Blake from a different universe that they had cotton due to a spore drive. The spore drive had been stolen by a different pirate so we had to get it back. It's all rather weird. Charlena's hologram started to flicker a bit and every now and then while she was talking, there was a noticeable pause in between sentences. While German studied Terran history in primary school, a few of the holo-videos from the mid 20th century until the early 21st century had the same issue on Earth whenever the news was interviewing someone on a different continent. Galven: ::chuckles:: That's the nature of the game. We get involved with some rather… "unique" situations in our line of work. You mentioned an alternate Commander Blake, right? How's she and Captain Rahman doing? Vanlith: I’ll be honest I should probably get to know both of them better. I tend to keep relatively to myself or engineering so I need to branch out to say the least. From what I’ve seen of them they seem good. I know through the grapevine that Blake wasn’t happy with an alternate Blake on board. So I guess she’s still not happy as we still need to get her home. Charlena shuffled slightly and looked down. Recently she had realised how little time she spent with others on the ship and she knew she needed to do something about it. Having been on the ship for over a year she barely knew her own captain's first name let alone anything about her. And she was sure she somehow knew even less about Blake. Vanlith: Urm anyway what's going on for you over there? Even though they were many lightyears apart, German could hear the tone in her voice that Charlena sounded like she was disappointed by what she said. He could relate because there were plenty of people who were missed opportunities for him to get to know. He glanced down at his PADD as his fingers tapped on a few commands which materialized a couple chairs and the holodeck transformed into his apartment's living room on Ops. Although, it caused a few more energy sources which didn't help with the grainy, flickering hologram that was the young engineering officer. Galven: We've actually been on shoreleave for a couple weeks now. ::pauses, then takes a seat:: You're more than welcome to take a seat if you like? Vanlith: ::sitting down facing him:: And how has that been? Galven: ::nods:: Pretty eventful. We just recently received quite a few new ensigns as well as a Lt. Commander who actually served on the Veritas as well once upon a time. Did you ever get to meet an Alora DeVeau? Vanlith: I recognise the name, not sure we ever met. Galven: Well, as you know, I'm always one to help people adjust so I've unofficially become the starbase's tour guide. ::chuckles:: If you're ever this way, I'd love to give you a tour too! Vanlith: ::chuckling:: Tour guide Galven, you’ll be like Teller next. He gets confused as a bellhop, you’ll be a tour guide. Maybe I should open a hotel and hire you both. But in all seriousness a tour does sound nice if we are ever out your way. I would be nice to actually see you again. And no borg tribbles this time. A smirk formed on the right side of his lips. One of his more memorable training classes in the Academy was with Charlena when she took her final exam. Everything was going just as it was programmed to do until a slight curveball came into their way. Galven: ::chuckles:: Hey, I think that was a nice addition to a fairly boring class up until someone couldn't help herself when she picked up that tribble. Vanlith: ::chuckling pretending to be defensive:: Hey it was cute and fluffy. For all I knew it posed no threat. Galven: No, it didn't have to be a Borg tribble. ::smiles:: The look on your face was priceless when you first saw it. Have you come across any more troubling tribbles? Vanlith: No tribbles as of yet. It would be funny but I think I’d get in trouble for trying to keep one. Galven: ::rubs his ridged chin and sticks his index finger upward:: Tell you what! I believe there's a supply freighter about to leave drydock soon heading to the Shoals. The starbase has a pet store that has tribbles. Would you like one? It's a gift from me to you so I'm not taking no for an answer. ::pretends to appear stern by furrowing his eyebrows, but smiling in the process:: Vanlith: Are you serious? Charlena could feel the shock written across her face. She couldn’t believe that he was actually offering her a pet. She was sure BAXTER wouldn’t mind and that was the only possible hesitation to her. A pet tribble would be a brilliant fluffy companion and she could imagine the look on Wil’s face if it turned up in engineering with no warning. She was sure that would be a laugh. Galven: Which part? That there's a supply freighter or the tribble gift? Vanlith: You’re going to get me a tribble? Galven: ::nods:: Of course. I'll send you the shipping information and its expected delivery date. Vanlith: That's amazing. I’d love a tribble. And it sure would be a story to explain why to everyone. Plus as I recall the Borg tribble loved me so I’m sure a normal tribble would too. German was enjoying how excited she was which he got a kick out. Just as he was about to speak, a holographic chronometer illuminated up and behind Charlena's head which started a countdown at a minute and a half. It seemed like their meeting was about to run its course. Galven: Also, I want to let you know that the tribble I'm sending you is "fixed" so there's not going to be a million little furballs once it gets to you. ::smirks:: Vanlith: Just because I now know that doesn’t mean I won’t amuse myself in engineering before I tell the others ::chuckling:: Galven: ::laughs:: Let me know what happened when you tell your colleagues about it. ::clears his throat:: Listen, we don't have much time left because the tetryon levels seem to be affecting our connection. I noticed that the Veritas is just starting shoreleave, correct? Vanlith: Yeah that's right. Why do you ask? Galven: Given how intense the mission was for you and the crew, I would suggest that you try to connect more with everyone. It really does help, at least for me, to decompress by collaborating with others. Would you mind doing that? Not just for my own sake, but for you as well. Vanlith: Still giving me advice and direction even now. For you, sure. I really should get to know the others better. Maybe even have a chat with someone I don’t really talk to outside of being on duty. Galven: ::smiles:: Perhaps that someone could be your Captain. I know that whenever we came back from a mission, she would either take a nightly stroll to the library and Rahman loved it when a certain Ensign would bring her coffee. I mean, where else did Teller come up with the Brew Continuum? ::points to himself, smirks:: Vanlith: Coffee to the Captain. Is it really that easy? Galven: Of course! Roshanara is very approachable. Even more so when there's that fresh aroma hitting her nose. Vanlith: Well, I will remember that. Fresh coffee in the library. Thanks Charlena smiled rather thankful of the advice, she was more nervous of the Captain then she was willing to admit. It wasn’t because she was scared of her but more that she was worried she would say something wrong. Galven: It looks like our time is up so before we're disconnected, let her and everyone else I said hello. ::stands up:: Also, don't be a stranger and maybe we can send PADDmail back and forth between us. Oh, and Charlena? Vanlith: That sounds good. What? Galven: Optimism, Lieutenant! ::dons his signature Denobulan wide grin:: Vanlith: ::smiling herself:: And you Commander, hopefully we can see each other soon. ---- LT. JG Charlena Vanlith ( @Sophie290999 ) Engineering Officer USS Veritas V239604CV0 & Lt. Commander @German Galven 2O/Chief Science Officer StarBase 118 - USS Narendra V239507GG0
  9. A really lovely character building JP, showing off what can be accomplished with a little teamwork during shore leave! ((Atmospheric Lab, Deck 510, StarBase 118)) DeVeau and Kudon had just ended their meeting with Galven and were about to proceed along a few tracks to determine the best way to neutralize the Death Fog leftover on Vankoth II. One was to separate the silicon from the silicon platinum chloride. The second was to add ascorbic acid to chemically neutralize it. And there was the third possibility of a combination of breaking the Death Fog molecules apart and adding something. One way or the other they needed to get rid of the SiPtCl2. There was also the matter of getting more accurate data from the Klingons on the level of Death Fog in the atmosphere Kudon: So, Commander DeVeau, shall we go to a containment holodeck or do you want to work on the models first before trying them out? DeVeau: Best to take things carefully I think. Let’s work on a few models, then test. The two of them headed to the Science Main Office on Deck 506 to develop the models together. Once there, the two sat down at a computer station and started exploring possibilities. Kudon: I would recommend that we first translate the algorithm into Klingon and send it to them and hopefully get their data soon. The more accurate our data, the better our models will end up being. DeVeau: And the sooner we get that information, the sooner we can find a solution. Agreed. Kudon: After that, I would be most interested in us starting on a model on your idea of adding ascorbic acid to see what effect that may have. While he was genuinely interested in DeVeau’s theory, Kudon also knew it was smart to defer to one’s superior officer. He would get a chance eventually to try out his model. Better to show respect first. DeVeau: We can run more than one model at a time. ::Alora pointed out.:: So let’s be efficient, eh? Making the best use of their time would get to an answer sooner rather than later. Alora focused her attention on the task at hand. Translating was made a little more difficult by the fact that some of the vocabulary used was not common. Some words didn’t have straight Klingon translations. Eventually, however, they accomplished that task. Then they went about setting up the models. If they gave promising results, they would then take them to the holodeck and run some tests. While they waited, Alora leaned back in her chair and studied the man across from her. DeVeau: So please tell me about yourself, Kudon. This took Kudon quite by surprise. He was not used to superior officers, especially ones he just met, to want to get to know him. After a moment of hesitation he replied. Kudon: Well...what exactly do you wish to know. DeVeau: Whatever you’re willing to tell me. He wasn’t sure where to begin, so he just went with the basics. Kudon: I am 22 Terran years old and fresh out of the Academy...plus one mission obviously. I am from Vulcan. That wasn’t surprising to Alora. While not all Vulcans were born on Vulcan depending on what their parents did, most were indeed from their home planet. DeVeau: How did you end up in Starfleet? Kudon: I’ve always known I wanted to be an Engineer. Or at least a science officer. At the Academy, I focused on maximizing the efficiency of fusion and warp core engines when they are operating together. He was presenting what was his usual stump speech about what work he had done. He usually assumed superior officers cared more about his resume than his personal life. With Hael as quite the exception...in many ways. DeVeau: Surely there’s more to your life than that. Vulcan’s weren’t generally known for being forthcoming, but Alora did prefer to get to know her comrades. After all, they worked together, they lived together. They fought together. They were family - maybe not biologically, but family none the less. Kudon: I spent little time off planet growing up on Vulcan. My youth was rather immersed in a number of different Engineering projects. I entered many science competitions and I will be honest that I won most of them. If I may, Commander, if we are aquainting ourselves with each other, may I ask what brought you to Starbase 118 Ops? DeVeau: Why certainly. I was assigned here. Before that...well, I can’t say, classified, but before /that/, I was in the Shoals on the Veritas. Kudon: Interesting. That must have been quite different than here. DeVeau: Yes, very. Being on a base is quite a bit different than being on a ship, but not only that, the area was different, the people different. Atmosphere in general. The way you live is… Just then, an alert went off on the computer and Kudon took a look, Alora following suit. Kudon: The first iteration of each of our three models has completed. The two of them scanned over the data results on the screen. DeVeau: Oh, this looks promising. Alora pointed at the information on the screen, though it was quite unnecessary. Kudon: Yes, it appears that Silicon can break off from the platinum chloride, as long as the temperature is kept within reasonable range. The model with adding ascorbic acid is also successful. What readings do you have on the model with both splitting the Silicon and adding the ascorbic acid? DeVeau: Same - results show in an effective break down of the Fog. Kudon: So all three seem like effective methods to neutralize the gas. The trouble is figuring out, which one is best. And I don’t like the p-value of breaking off the Silicon only being .03. 97% chance of success is good, but a lot can go wrong 3% of the time. While Kudon certainly wanted to go with whichever model produced the best outcomes, part of him was very hopeful that his Silicon model would work. This algorithm that had now been modified multiple times to detect, and now destroy Death Fog, was his ongoing project and if his theory of breaking off the Silicon were correct, it would help him feel somewhat redeemed for the limitations his algorithm had faced during the mission. DeVeau: True. Alora broke off, pondering the information they were presented with. Kudon: We can recalibrate and try another model run, but I think we need that data from the Klingons before we can do so. DeVeau: I concur. The more information we have, the better we can prepare, the better success we’ll have as well. We’ll, unfortunately, have to wait. Kudon: Very well, Commander. While we are waiting, I understand you are from Earth, correct? Alora leaned back in her chair, crossed one leg over the other, then used the foot that remained in contact with the floor to twirl around. When she was facing the Vulcan again, she nodded. Kudon was rather taken aback that his superior officer was twirling on a chair in front of them. Not that he necessarily minded, but it was not what he expected. On the other hand, she did seem to want to get to know him. He could show her the same courtesy. DeVeau: I’m an Earthling, born and bred in Georgia, spent quite a few years in Japan. Some of my family still lives there. Question. Kudon: Do you want to ask me a question? DeVeau: What kind of music do you like? Kudon: That is a..surprising question, but I am happy to answer. In fact, Commander Hael is the only person I have spoken with about music since I arrived. We both appreciate an old Terran group called Metallica. If you haven’t heard of them, they were what was called metal. Very emotional music. In fact, I like most music that expresses deep feelings. At that point, Kudon wondered if it made sense to tell her that he was a Vulcan that had chosen to experience emotions. It helped fit with his like of emotional music. But he hardly knew DeVeau and he did not want to seem like he was confessing or giving up some dirty secret. So he kept quiet about it for now. DeVeau: Do you like to dance? Kudon: Well, metal is not exactly the type of music to dance to. But come to think of it, I have never danced to any type of music before. What do you ask? DeVeau: Just curious. So what type of things do you do when you have downtime? What floats your boat? Kudon: What floats my...what? Alora giggled and twirled around, this time in the opposite direction. Kudon felt strange that she did the twirling again. As someone who chose emotions, coming from a culture that does not, he usually struggled with ambiguous social situations. And here he was not sure what the line was between professional and personal communication and behavior. He found DeVeau to be a very nice person, but nonetheless he felt awkward. DeVeau: It’s an earth saying - it means, what interests you? Kudon: Oh I see...I enjoy cooking a variety of different dishes. Sometimes I’ll replicate certain ingredients, but I like to make things from scratch as much as possible. It feels very creative. I like to cook dishes from a variety of cultures, not just Vulcan. I also read a great deal, about engineering of course, but I took a number of Academy courses on interstellar diplomatic relations, so I enjoy reading about how different planets, empires, and so forth both cooperate and compete with one another. What about you? What...floats your boat? Alora grinned. A Vulcan who expressed emotions /and/ adopted idioms. She knew they existed, but she’d never met one before. Very interesting. DeVeau: Oh, lots of things, really, but I’ll just choose one. Singing. Kudon: How long have you been doing that? DeVeau: Since I was born. Alora grinned and shrugged. DeVeau: My mom’s a musician, I heard it in the womb, evidently, I came out singing myself, so to speak. Kudon: What is your favorite part about it? That was not a simple answer. Alora leaned back further into the chair pondering the question. She forwent twirling about and, instead, just turned it from side to side a little as she considered the question. What was her favourite part? About singing? DeVeau: I guess...being able to express one’s self in a way that’s augmented by the music. Pain is more painful, joy more joyful when music is added. And then...being able to become someone else and something else, even just for a little while. Not because I dislike myself, but because it’s interesting to explore different thoughts, ideas, and situations. Which...kind of goes along with another thing that floats my boat - acting. Kudon: Wow, that does sound very enjoyable. You should get some of the other crewmates together and we could all do it as a group. I almost forgot to ask you, what kind of music do you--- He was cut off by the computer alert, just as DeVeau had earlier. The Klingon data had come in. Kudon: The Klingons certainly sent us the data very quickly. It is not like them to be so immediately cooperative. At once, Alora was all business. As much as she enjoyed learning about people, she also knew there was a time for chit chat, and a time for work. She eyed the data on the screen and nodded. DeVeau: Sounds like they want to get rid of this stuff as soon as possible - which is understandable. Kudon: What I’d like to do is have the computer translate it back from Klingon and then run our three models again. DeVeau: Okay. Alora didn’t argue though she was fully capable of translating it. Perhaps he wanted it written down, which she could understand. As he started the translation, Kudon was starting to fill with excitement. There was just something about the combination of abstract mathematical analysis with real life data. Kudon: Reverse translation complete. Ready to input the data into our three models. Let’s see what kind of light we can shine on this Death Fog. Alora took a few moments to read over the information, though she chose to do so in the original Klingon. DeVeau: Let’s input the data on all the models and see what happens. Best not count our chickens before they’re hatched. Kudon: I agree that would be the best approach...I must say Commander, ::getting more and more animated:: and I think you can appreciate this as a Science Officer, there is just something so exciting about creating an algorithm and seeing it work in the real world. It may seem silly, but I actually am nervous about what the results of our models will be. Accurate, inaccurate? Worse, better? So many think of science and engineering as just brainpower, but there is real creativity and, dare I say, emotion involved. Don’t you agree? So he had let her know about his emotions after all, albeit indirectly. Alora’s verdant eyes twinkled. Little did he know she’d already seen that he allowed emotion - after all, Vulcan’s didn’t use terms such as ‘like’ and enjoyment when referring to themselves. That display, however, showed that he did indeed allow his emotions to the forefront for more than simply descriptive words. When she didn’t answer, too entertained by his excitement, he queried again. Kudon: There must have been a time when you felt like this? DeVeau: Oh definitely. And I agree. More creativity is needed than people suspect, you have to think outside the books, look at things from different angles - like an artist. Kudon could not contain himself to sit down so he started pacing behind the chairs they were sitting in. He was about to respond to DeVeau when the computer did one final alert to indicate the three models had finished running. Kudon: What are the results? Alora didn’t answer right away. She perused the results for a moment, then turned to the pacing Vulcan. DeVeau: It looks like a combination of our ideas would work best. It offers the most stability, and it actually speeds up the process by a whopping fifty percent! Kudon: Fascinating. I think we should let Commander Galven know immediately. DeVeau: Yes, yes we should. I also think we should run it through the holodeck and test it out that way, but I suspect we’ll get the same answer. Alora stood, allowing the chair to finally go still. Kudon: I must say, Commander, I have enjoyed working with you. Still standing, Kudon put out his hand to shake hers, with a small, but quite obvious, smile on his face, thinking how their teamwork had led to potentially very positive results. Alora’s smile lit up her face and she accepted the hand warmly, though surprised as Vulcans were usually uninclined to touch due to their telepathy. At least, that’s what her experience had been. DeVeau: I feel the same, it was a pleasure working with you. I look forward to doing so more in the future. Ensign Kudon Starbase 118 Ops Engineering Officer O239703K10 & Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau Science Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239008AD0
  10. Aly - I know I'm writing this scene with you, but I want you to know that you are doing a wonderful job of realistically portraying Sheila and her struggles. Your narrative here is growing ever stronger, and more compelling and I am so engaged in her struggles. You have done a fantastic job! <3 OOC - This sim has mention of abuse, not graphic. All thoughts and opinions are of that of my character. ((CO’s Office – The Hub – StarBase 118)) Bailey: It should. Sheila knew that she was sliding backwards. When she left home for the academy she didn’t have a reminder of her Uncle. Maybe that was because she was getting used to a whole new level of gravity. Her Uncle didn’t even come up when she was first posted to Federation starship. She guessed that her mind had just been strong for too long and it was finally time to face what he had done to her. Overall she was in a constant internal battle where she had a desire to be strong. That was now coming up against that small voice in her head that threw back everything her Uncle said to her; put it right back into her face. Taybrim: ::Gently:: And why would you say that? Bailey: I’ve struggled, in my younger years, to not believe all the abusive things my Uncle told me. Not hurt myself in similar ways. Sal nodded, showing that he was listening. Sheila appreciated that. Taybrim: That is one of the most difficult things you will grapple with. But you can overcome it. Could she overcome what he had done to her? In a way it would always be with her but she could get to a point that it would no longer bother her, that the thoughts would no longer come up and that she would no longer feel she would have to tell her commanding officers what had happened. Those thoughts didn’t come as a surprise to her. She knew the medical science behind what she was going through as she studied it in her training. Sal however made it all that much more real. He spoke reassuringly. He didn’t sugar coat anything. Bailey: I feel that if someone tells you, you are a failure so many times one can not only start believing that but acting like that as well. Taybrim: It is, most unfortunately, a natural part of a being’s ability to learn that means that if you are taught something with enough repetition – including a destructive lie, that the brain will pick up that pattern and absorb it. You are not weak for that, you are simply sentient and capable of learning – a trait that your abuser took advantage of. Sheila was now feeling very uncomfortable. She had told other people but never in this much detail. It physically hurt. Not like the panic she felt during the mission but much more like someone was squeezing her. She pulled off her sweater leaving it on the floor by her chair. She also realized that yes her Uncle had taken advantage of her. He took advantage of her in so many different ways. He had told her that no one other than him would want her. That she couldn’t outshine others; that would draw too much attention to her. Lead to mistakes. And everytime she did something he didn’t approve of he showed her physically that she had messed up. Usually what he did was pull at her hair and throw her around. It would give her a loss of control. These uncomfortable thoughts had her telling her friend, who was sitting across from her, about the worst thing he had done to her. Bailey: I have a permanent reminder of what he did. Under her sweater she was wearing a simple white tank top which made it easier for her to show Sal the small white but still visible scar that she has on her upper spine. She turned around in her chair to do so. The scar didn’t hurt anymore but it left a slight phantom pain anytime she brushed her fingers along it. She was only glad that it was in a hard to reach location as well as in a place that she couldn’t see when she looked in the mirror. Bailey: You see that there? That small white scar? He did that to me and it won’t go away. ::her voice sounded desperate:: Taybrim: I am so very sorry, Sheila. ::His voice was tender, soft.:: No one deserves to have that sort of pain and abuse done to them. No one deserves to have that reminder carried with them. No one as bright or as compassionate as you ever deserves to have their world twisted by an abuser. I am so very sorry. Sal wasn’t faking his honest sympathy. Bailey: I know I don’t deserve what he did to me. ::she turned to get more comfortable in her seat:: I just...feel like I’m stuck in this endless loop of failure. It feels hopeless right now. Taybrim: No ::He shook his head gently, watching her move back into a more comfortable position.:: I don’t think it is hopeless or that you will fail in your career. I think you are farther along the path to recovery than you think you are, but I also know that yes, the road ahead is difficult. Bailey: It’s going to be hard. I know that for a hard cold fact. I studied about the subject in medical school. It’s however not the same thing as fighting the criminals of Starfleet. We go after then as we have strong evidence as to them committing criminal acts. My Uncle, he not only hurt me but after he would tell me how good I was or how much I wanted it. Words like that. Working in Starfleet was easy as they had clear reasons to go after the people they did. Bailey herself knew that the “death fog” was deadly based on its chemical makeup, so in her mind it was a clear black line of bad. With her Uncle however he seemed to go back and forth between black and white so quickly and easily that she wasn’t sure if it really was his intention to hurt her. What she later learned was that yes he did have a reason to hurt her and her sisters. Of course he hurt them less then her but that never made that any easier. Taybrim: I believe in you. I know you can do this. Again, you’ve already taken the first step – you recognize what your Uncle did and you called it out – abuse. You can see it, and you can talk to people about it – that’s not easy and it shows you are strong and brave. Sal’s tone was firm, reassuring. Bailey: I’ve told those I felt had a right to know. I still find it hard to tell myself that I was told lies my whole life. Even when I do it doesn’t make it better. Taybrim: You learned these abusive things through repetition, continually being taught them. You can unlearn them through repetition and continually being taught something else. And, you’re right – simply telling yourself that it’s a lie won’t help. You can know that it’s a lie and still feel those emotional welling within you because you’ve been taught that guilt and shame by a horrible person. You have to unlearn those basic responses. The Elaysian woman hardly knew what to say at that. In all honesty she felt a bit choked up. Her body was cold but if she put her sweater back on she felt like she would overheat. With that she left her sweater on the floor. It was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Sheila could feel the anticipation of what Sal was going to say. Throughout their conversation it was the first time she hadn’t spoken which got her mind thinking in a million different directions. Taybrim: This may be the hardest part for you. You are a medical officer, a compassionate soul who is dedicated to caring for others. But you need to re-establish your own sense of self beyond what your Uncle taught you. That means setting up a sense of self-preservation where you reinforce the self you believe in when your Uncle’s voice haunts you. ::He leaned forward a bit to explain.:: The reason this will feel so difficult for you is because you will need to be a little selfish. You may not be able to endure other’s emotional trauma while you are protecting yourself and re-establishing a new sense of self outside of your Uncle’s abuse. Sheila Bailey didn’t completely freak out at Sal’s words. From the tension she felt she thought he was going to tell her that she was going to have to step away from Starfleet for a time. If she left she was going to break down fully no doubt about it. But was that what Sal was meaning? She wasn't sure. Sheila figured that he didn’t but thinking about it she in fact didn’t know. Her brain was torn between what she knew and what she felt. In the end her feelings won out. Her feelings won out to the point that she started tearing up. Bailey: You're not asking me to quit my job are you? Taybrim: Response Bailey: I...I don’t understand. Taybrim: Response Bailey: Okay..Okay..::Sheila was taking deep breaths as she spoke. Her breath was shaky however, making her feel slightly more uncomfortable:: Let me backup. My Uncle abused me. That is a fact. Sheila was trying to recap some of what they had talked about in order to try and understand what Sal, her friend, was asking her. Make sure those feelings that had her thinking she was going to have to quit could lose. If she broke it down then they would lose and she would be left knowing what she knew all along. That Sal was only asking her to limit herself and know her boundaries. And throughout their conversation he was guiding her through finding herself in a way that didn’t connect to her abuser. Taybrim: Response Bailey: I know it could affect my work, not that I’m going to let it. I am a compassionate person and work strongly in helping others. You’ve just got my brain fighting against my heart. I know your not asking or even telling me to quit right? Taybrim: Response As she listened to the man in front of her talk she went about wiping her eyes, her breathing slowing. She had just been confronted with her biggest fear but she knew the right outcome even through the confusion. Sheila was glad that she had taken a step back and asked for clarification. Bailey: Thank you. I’m just so scared. How do I move forward when I work in medicine? Taybrim: Response TBC/TAG Lieutenant JG Sheila Bailey Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0
  11. Great ending to a honorable Klingon warrior @Sal Taybrim!! ((Inside Main Production Facility, Vonkoth II)) K’Parg of the house of Morpok was young, brash, straightforward and honest. He was the second youngest son of Mat’pon, a warrior of little glory but steadfast honor. His had always been a support house, standing behind those with strong ideals and strong honor. He was not afraid to die today. In fact, ensuring that his Commander could retrieve the qulCha’par through a fight rather than dying to torture or poison was the best honor he could hope for. May Lofsha carry his deeds back home to his family and may his younger brother rise up, supported by the story of his honor and serve the Empire well and honorably. K’parg had no regrets. He knew that Sto’vo’kor would welcome him this day. K’parg: Win the war, Commander! I die with honor today! He rushed Korv and slammed the older Klingon back against the wall in a stunning blow. His display was enough to provide plenty of cover and he heard a blast door close behind him. The qulCha’par would fly today, for the glory of the Empire. Korv: ::at two guard minions who were punching back the prisoners:: Shoot them! You are members of the Cult of Molor. No need for hand-to-hand, imbeciles. Just shoot! Gach’ah: ::stomps to where Lofsha was seen last:: Where is the Commander?! How did she break free?! The fight wasn’t exactly fair. Korv had weapons and all his limbs free, K’parg was unarmed and shackled, still, he fought like a demon, feeling the crunch of armor and bone on his opponent even as he was battered to his knees. His face was split and bleeding from a second hit, but he knew his commander was well on her way to striking back. K’parg: You think you will win, you honorless pig? You will only be remembered for your treachery and your death will be used as an example of what happens when you betray your name! He took a kick to the chest for that statement and he smiled, a vicious tooth smile. Did that hurt? Good. No amount of physical pain could match the honorless death these two would face. Korv: ::calling out above the battle cries and noise:: Your Captain will not make it far. She is but one, our Brothers and Sisters are plenty! They will catch her, ::more to himself:: and when they do… ::trails off while kicking a prisoner, who was already sprawled on the floor, in the stomach with his heavy boot:: Gach’ah: ::sneers:: You will call for your Captain and your life will be spared! Despite the pain, the growing roster of broken bones and the flowing blood, K’parg smiled. He stood on his feet the best he could, pleased at the damage he had been able to cause to his enemies despite limitations. If they were asking for his help it meant they were scared that she would succeed. They should be. Lofsha and the crew of the qulCha’par would succeed. K’parg: I will not. She will kill you and bring your cult to its knees. Korv: ::raises his firearm, aiming it squarely at K’parg:: Finally, you will meet your end. Dishonorably restrained and killed by a lame, one eyed Klingon. You will not reach StoVoKor! His smile widened, blood staining his teeth. K’parg: I have been honorable and loyal to my last breath. Kahless will welcome me in StoVoKor. Gach’ah: ::huffs:: There is no such place! Where you're going will be nothing, but emptiness and despair! Now he was sure this cult was done for. Even if he died, he was sure he would be welcomed in the halls of StoVoKor. Them denying its existence only cemented his belief. They were the ones who lived in fear. They were the ones who knew they were damned. They wanted to shake his resolve in his last moments. But K’parg of the house of Morpok would not be swayed. K’parg: You lie to yourself, and you know it. You are afraid of death, because you have lived a life without honor. I am not afraid. Korv: ::laughing loudly:: Whaha! Idiot. Show him boss, what we do with people that speak nonsense. That hit home. The honorless swine walked forward, grabbing K’parg and landing punishing blows, the sort of horrific violence that was pushed by self-loathing and internal doubt. K’oarg had no doubt that Gach’ah hatred was less to do with K’parg himself – he was only speaking the truth, but fueled by Gach’ah own inner failures, hatred, and lack of honor. Korv: ::annoyed:: Hey!:: oO Great. He does it again. Ruining my bit of fun. Oo ::sighs and steps back:: Gach'ah: ::leans in, inches away from K'parg's face:: Join the Cult of Molor and you will be rewarded a bountiful of treasures and gifts from the Orion Syndicate. We can give you what the Empire cannot… A chance to live. Through the blood and the pain, K’parg’s dark eyes fixed upon Gach’ah and he spoke clearly. K'parg: I have lived more in these last few honorable moments that you will even live in your entire honorless life. You will choke upon your lies and if you are lucky a Klingon will kill you before the Orion Syndicate shoves a knife in your back. That was it. Gach’ah pulled the trigger and K’parg slumped backwards. He died as he lived, blunt, honest and honorable. Today was a good day to die. ~*~ ~fin~ ~*~ MSNPC Sogh K’Parg First Officer IKS qulCha’par
  12. ((IKS Vr'Chok. Negh'Var-class Attack Cruiser.)) ((Location Unknown.)) ((One month ago.)) Plasma spewed from the stricken ship as blood flowed from a severed artery, the vessel slowly turning end over end as it drifted lazily. A few thousand kilometres distant, the secure transport it had been escorting was also drifting, having lost power from a well-placed battery of shots. He clasped his hands behind his back as he glared at the dying ship before them, before turning at pointing a deadly finger at the comms officer. Vrerik: Hail them. Comms: Yes, sir. A few moments later, the viewscreen changed to show a Starfleet bridge at Red Alert, sparks flew and smoke hung thickly in the air as a human woman stiffened to attention. Vrerik: I am Sub-Lieutenant Vrerik of the Romulan Imperial Navy. And I have some questions for you. ::His tone was calm, almost casual. As if he was making a call to an old friend.:: Firstly, may I ask to whom I am speaking? Roth: Lieutenant-Commander Inge Roth. Vrerik nodded politely, yet his smile was more predatory than friendly. Vrerik: And in what capacity do you serve, Commander Roth? I see you are wearing teal. You are a doctor I presume? Roth: I am. ::She nodded.:: I am both first officer and chief medical officer aboard this vessel. Vrerik: Where is your captain? Roth stood aside slightly, allowing the viewscreen to show a lifeless body slumped beside the command chair. Vrerik: Chief doctor, first officer, and now acting-captain. ::He clapped slowly, just short of being mocking.:: You have quite a collection of feathers in your cap, Commander. Very well. I shall ask you my important questions instead, as your captain does not appear to be in a conversational mood. His dark eyes twinkled with enjoyment as the woman on screen bristled slightly. Roth: What do you want? Vrerik: Want? ::He held a hand to his chest in a human gesture of hurt surprise.:: What do I want? He stepped closer to the viewscreen, his eyes narrowing and his lips curling slightly. Vrerik: I want Commodore Allan Kinney. That is what I want. You were escorting him aboard that transport, he is no longer aboard, and I want you to tell me where he is. Give him to me. Roth: Kinney? Never heard of him. We were just told to escort that ship. Vrerik: Do not play games with me, Commander. It will not end well for you or your crew. I have killed far more, for far less than what you can give to me. The officer on the screen took a step back, even as her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She held her hands out, as if asking for mercy. Roth: We are no threat to you, and we have many wounded aboard. I do not know the name Kinney. We were told nothing about the passengers aboard that transport. Vrerik turned away from the screen for a moment, to the chief weapons officer. Vrerik: The boarding party has returned, yes? CWO: Yes, sir. The man Kinney is not aboard. Only thirty Starfleet crew and sixty-four prisoners. Vrerik: Then we have no further use for it. He gave a sharp nod to the chief weapons officer, and seconds later the Vr'Chok unleashed everything it had onto the comparatively tiny transport. The transport was wiped from existence, leaving behind almost nothing to indicate it had ever been there. Vrerik: I am sorry you could not be of assistance, Dr Roth. He gave another sharp nod to the chief weapons officer. Roth: Oh, sh- ::Panic set in as she scrambled to hit the nearest comms panel.:: =/\= Mayday! Mayday! This is the USS Bastille to anybody that can hear me! Mayd- =/\= The cry for help was shortlived as the small cruiser was blasted apart by the Vr'Chok once more unleashing its full armament of weapons. Closing his eyes and letting out a breath, he smiled to himself as an angry growl and the creaking of leather drifted towards him. General: You fool. Now we shall learn nothing from them! Vrerik whipped around like a viper ready to strike, and indeed he could have for he was already stood a hands width away from the General's face with a cold and murderous fire in his eyes. It was enough to even give the General a moments pause. Vrerik: Oh, but we have. We have learned everything we need to know from them. General: And what is it that we have learned? Vrerik: This was nothing more than a ruse. Commodore Kinney is still aboard Starbase 118, along with its meddlesome crew. He stepped back suddenly, clapping his hands together sharply and emitting a short maniac bark of a laugh. He turned away, heading for the General's chambers. Vrerik: Come, General Krala! The Circle will want to hear what we have to say. ~fin~ Sub-Lieutenant Vrerik. Romulan Imperial Navy Officer. Simmed by; Lt.Cdr. Arturo Maxwell. Chief Tactical Officer. Starbase 118 Operations. O239311AM0.
  13. @German Galven This sim was really well done. It was sad but also really sweet. It shows the domestic side of star fleet life so well. I also want to congratulate you for implying at a challenging topic and giving it a bit more awareness. ((OOC- Wanted to do a small follow up after the JP with Sevo)) ((Science Department Holodeck Facility #1, Deck 547, Starbase 118)) German had stayed in the holodeck long after Ayiana left. He was ecstatic about hanging out and just talking with someone he’d known right from the beginning of his Starfleet career. Although that wasn’t why he was still in the simulated conference room. Even the assistant hologram looked on at him curiously. He smiled at the hologram which German figured since it was a barista to name him EBH or rather Venti Au Lait. Au Lait: Is this the best name you could think of for me? Galven: ::shrugs:: At least you have a name. Would you rather be called ‘The Barista’ or ‘Emergency Barista’? The five foot eight inch fair haired hologram looked like he was ready to facepalm. Instead, Venti walked back over to the coffee bar and started to clean up. When news broke from Lael that she was pregnant, German had gone to the rest of the ultrasound appointments with her. The doctor had recreated a hologram of what the baby would look like by the early signs of genetic sequences. Once he found out that they had lost their daughter due to complications of stress and the different genealogical hybrid species she would have, German didn’t want to accept it as he kept working to prevent his mind from breaking him apart. A few minutes had gone by as he was projecting what Galilea would’ve looked like if she was nine. The same age his sister was before she was kidnapped. After the creation was successful, German had tapped the monitor on the side of the holodeck which caused the little girl to form. First, her head was created as the long flowing strawberry blonde hair and light green eyes had formed. Soon, her ridges on the sides of her forehead appeared, but there weren't any ridges on her chin, but there were slightly noticeable ear ridges which also had the pointed features that Al-Leyans had. The rest of her body took shape as she stood around five foot wearing a child's costume of standard science officer attire. German admired the girl as she was frozen in place which made Venti approach German from behind and rest his hand on the Denobulan’s shoulder. Au Lait: I take it that this is someone you know? Galven: ::clears his throat, his view still on Galilea:: She’s my daughter if she was nine years old. Her date of birth would’ve been two months ago in March. Au Lait: ::pats his shoulder:: I’ll leave you two alone. Let me know if you need me. Venti walked back behind the bar as German tried to have the courage and strength to activate the holographic image of what was supposed to be his growing family. He had tried to contact Lael a few times after the transfer, but it was fruitless. She more than likely was too distraught and overworking herself as well which German understood and never held it against her. So when he started to also make a hologram of Lael, he decided against it because German knew how much she valued her privacy and it wasn't morally appropriate to do that without her consent. Instead, he turned on the video feed to send Lael a message afterward which she'd be able to watch if she wanted to. Galven: Computer. Activate video recording and the Galilea Program. Computer: Acknowledged. Video recording set and activating Galilea Program. The little girl's head started to move slightly and then blinked several times to adjust her eyesight. To say that German was nervous would be an understatement as Galilea glanced up at the Denobulan. He was at a loss for words at first, but when she smiled curiously at him, he felt more at ease. Galven: Hi Galilea. Do you know who I am? Galilea: ::wry grin:: You're my daddy, silly! ::giggles:: Where is mommy? German struggled to get out the words as his bottom lip quivered, but mentally shook away anything that'd prevented him from using the time wisely he had with Galilea for the first time. He stepped forward with his arms outstretched which made Galilea run up and give him a hug. Galven: Mommy is out on assignment right now. ::which wasn't too far from the truth since that was the last time he heard from Lael:: She's at Starfleet Headquarters, remember? ::releases from the hug, kneeling down to talk with her at eye level:: Galilea: Oh yeah! Teaching kids my age about engineering stuff, right? Galven: ::smiles and nods:: You're a lot smarter than you look, kiddo. ::winks and chuckles a bit:: Galilea: ::arches an eyebrow, smirking with her hands on both her sides:: Well, I got it from mom's side of the family. Oh, the girl was already being sassy enough that German wondered if the computer also determined her personality from both of her parents. He didn't mind though because that's how he sort of expected her to be. Practically about to bust a guy laughing, he stood back up and held her hand. Galven: That you did. Would you like to have to meet Venti and have something to drink? Galilea: ::shakes her head, glancing over at the bartender:: Not really. ::to German:: I wanna play with Arlil. Where is she? Galven: ::momentarily thrown:: How do you know about her? As soon as he finished his question, Arlil materialized in the room which he realized that Galilea was talking about his past sister before she was abducted and not the current Arlil which was a relief for him. With his hand still holding Galilea's, they both walked over to his little sister. Arlil: German, you should've paid more attention to which program you were using. ::huffs:: You almost deleted me, big brother! Galven: ::sheepishly chuckles in embarrassment: Well, it's a good thing that I didn't. Galilea: ::clearly confused:: Daddy, what's she talking about? Galven: ::starts sweating a little:: A program about... ::beat:: a game I used to play with her. Would you like to play with Arlil? German noticed that Arlil folded her arms across her chest, giving him narrowed eyes trying to figure out why he lied to Galilea. He gave her a quick wink with a look that told her to go along with it. She acknowledged back with a silent and quick nod to acknowledge him. She walked over and took Galilea's hand. Galilea: Oh! A game? What are we gonna play? Arlil: Since you're in science blues, wanna play in the dirt and look for any signs of old Terran dinosaur bones? Galilea: Sounds fun! Daddy, is that okay?! Can I, can I?! A chuckle turned into full on laughter which German agreed to. Of course, he would agree to something like that and soon enough, the holodeck transformed into an archaeological dig. Both girls ran for one of the sites and grabbed the equipment to start the adventure. German looked on with a teary eyed smile because he knew at some point, he'd have to end the program to get back to work. With a heavy heart, he knew that it wasn't healthy and for him to see his late daughter this way, he wanted to make it a right step for him to start the grieving process. Eventually, he started to help Galilea because during his time with her, she was about to unearth a few remnants of a large lizard which Arlil started to get excited about as well. Work would just have to wait for him to return. Galilea: I love you, daddy. Galven: ::worries his lip:: I love you too, baby girl.
  14. ((OOC: When reading this I could see the scene play out in front of my eyes the descriptions are spot on, and the conversation manages to weave through different topics both in the character's recent lives as well as past events. Very well done!)) ((Science Department Holodeck Facility #1, Deck 547, Starbase 118)) German had been configuring the holodeck to meet the right specs, but more he just wanted the room to look just the right way. He hadn’t seen Ayiana Sevo for a while after they were training officers together quite some time ago. After the barrage of emails between the two senior officers, they agreed on a day to go over a rather unique subject that the Trill Commander had experienced. Part of the large area had a section where a conference room was laid which was where German was at as he poured some coffee from the pot into a mug. There was another next to it that was empty, but he determined that he shouldn’t fill it in case Ayiana didn’t want any. After he took a sip, he grabbed a PADD on the table and then leaned backwards against the wall trying to make more sense of what the Gorkon had experienced. There wasn’t as much detail in the report which made sense given how important it was to summarize what happened than to dispel anything to any prying eyes. Dozens of light-years away, Ayiana stood in one of the Gorkon’s holodecks, the blank black-and-yellow grid surrounding her like an unpainted canvas. She was surprised to hear from Commander Galven in recent weeks; aside from a training class the two ran some months back on Starbase 118, she hadn’t seen him since his own final exam. He had nearly blown up a bomb in her face. German was mostly curious about Ayiana’s scientific papers, especially her theories on the recent Q encounter; more precisely, her own hypothesis on the nature of the Q. Some people had told her to drop it; by their very nature, the Q were unknowable and beyond understanding. Ayiana couldn’t accept that; to her, everything in the universe was explainable with science. This was the most unusual part. Galven had insisted they meet via holo-conferencing, a technology that had been up-and-coming in recent years. It was more personal than staring into a flat viewscreen, but she couldn’t help but feel some trepidation. With a final sigh of anxiousness, Ayiana established the connection. The blank grid disappeared around her, replaced with a lush furnished conference room in standard Starfleet decor. If she didn’t know any better, it could have been one of a dozen such rooms on the Gorkon itself. Sevo: Hello? The only other occupant in the room was a lanky man with his back to her. He wore one of the newly-issued Starfleet uniforms, a far cry from the grey-on-black jumpers with department undershirt. The new design was reminiscent of the uniforms worn just before the Dominion War, albeit with a slightly different shoulder design, subtle chevron stitching in them, and a wholly redesigned combadge. All-in-all, it looked sharp. She was still wearing the old, military-esque uniforms with a skirt. Galven: ::turns quickly around:: When did you get here? I didn’t hear you come in. Sevo: That’s what happens when you’re a hologram. Poof! :: She mimed an explosion with her hands. :: Ayiana took in the sight of the man. It had been a while since she’d seen him and his appearance seemed to have changed slightly. He stood the same height as her, but his hair was short-curled greying black. Characteristic Denobulan ridges ensconced his jovial face. Galven: ::wry grin:: Perhaps you’re right. ::shrugs:: Maybe not. Anyways, would you like some coffee? Sevo: Not unless I’m hungover, but shore leave is just getting started. You wouldn’t believe the mission we’ve had. :: She paused. :: I’ll take a Pepsi, though. When the redheaded senior officer remarked that a hangover hadn’t happened yet, German smirked as the thoughts ran through his mind. Momentarily shaking his mind off, he approached the panel and brushed his fingers along the numbered codes. Galven: Computer, activate G-SBH-001, requesting a Terran carbonated soda beverage and a Denobulan subterranean medium roast coffee. A holographic attendant appeared behind a small bar tucked into one corner. He quickly busied himself with her order while she strolled over to a couch. She sat down, crossing her legs and propped an elbow on the armrest. Sevo: I have to say, this is an unexpected venue. Is this really a holodeck? :: She half-wondered if it was a real room with holoemitters. :: German had walked over to the bar to grab their drinks once the holo-attendant finished when Ayiana was mesmerized with one of the newest holodeck features. When he walked back, he had to admit that even though uniform dress skirts were a little dated that the clothing actually fit her body type. As he sat her drink on the three legged metallic steel end table next to her side of the couch, German sat down on a black curved chair, slightly diagonal from where Ayiana was sitting, still holding his mug. Galven: ::nods:: It is. ::takes a sip:: One of the newest editions with the latest updates. Sevo: I don’t think I’ve communicated like this before. It’s much more...real. Galven: One of the many perks being on the starbase. I can send you the schematics if you're interested along with the upgrades for it to properly run in one of the holodecks on the Gorkon? Sevo: I’m sure we’ll get it during our next layover. As a Task Force flagship, we get all the bells and whistles. Besides, we’re upgraded enough to have this little chat, right? :: She winked at him as she took a sip. :: Galven: ::shrugs:: The offer is always there. ::grins:: So, how have you been? A lot of things have happened ever since we last trained some cadets together. Sevo: Indeed. You’ve got a few more pips on that collar. You haven’t blown anyone else up, have you? :: She eyed him playfully. :: Galven: More or less. We've been trying to locate a group of Klingon cultists that have devised a poisonous bioweapon. A powerful gas that kills Klingons instantly and other species. Sevo: That doesn’t seem very honorable. Klingons regard the use of poison as a coward’s weapon. Galven: I'm more interested in what you and the Gorkon crew have encountered. You said in one of the emails about encountering Q, right? Sevo: Yea. She put us in an alternate reality based on an earlier experience we had in a dream state. The difference is, this time I remember *everything* that happened. German leaned forward a little and took a sip of his drink. He was already getting pretty enthralled in what she was saying which was more than what German had to offer because he didn’t have anything to say when she paused for a second. Sevo: Don’t know how much you’ve read up on the Gorkon’s mission reports, but a couple of years ago we were captured by a renegade Trill who put us in a collective dream. We thought we were a Maquis cell still fighting the Cardassians. Anyway, Q used that as the basis of her own “science experiment.” I think she wanted to see what made us tick. Galven: That doesn’t sound like she was very experienced at all. Sevo: I got the impression that she was relatively young, or at least naive, for a Q. She wanted to learn and know about us. Galven: Well, I know about one thing. We are a pretty explosive bunch. ::chuckles as he playfully tapped her knee:: So how did you guys get out of it? Ayiana ignored the bad joke, obviously referring to the incident between them at Galven’s final exam simulation. Sevo: *We* didn’t. :: She emphasized the “we.” :: Q did. She got all the data she wanted from us, then popped us back to the Gorkon at the exact moment we left. To those around us, it looked like we hadn’t left at all. Except that one moment we were fine, then the next we were sprouting injuries. Ayiana took a sip of her soda, letting Galven soak in the news. Sevo: I don’t suppose you’ve had any experiences like that, huh? Galven: I can’t say the same for me. There haven't been any missions like that, only personal struggles and demons. Sevo: Oh, I’ve had those too. Care to give an example? Ayiana paused again, finishing her first quarter of the sandwich, took a sip of wine, then moved on to the second quarter. Sevo: Anyway, what’s this about you in the *BORG UNIMATRIX?!* :: She emphasized the last words rather loudly. :: He nearly choked on his sandwich, but caught himself in time. Her raised tone made him realize that not everyone had heard about his experiences as well as being able to create a way to go in and out of the unimatrix. Galven: Oh, yeah. Well ::takes a drink:: It started about several years before I even considered joining Starfleet. Another scientist and I worked on stray Borg nanobots and with enough tachyokinetic energy conversion, we were able to minimize it into an ocular device allowing me to enter into the unimatrix. It took her a moment to translate the technicals he just explained. Sevo: So...you don’t actually connect your mind to it? It’s more like a virtual reality tour? Still sounds dangerous. Anything having to do with the Borg is dangerous. We’ve been lucky not to cross paths with them. Galven: Eh… well… that was the plan in the beginning until there was an accident. I don’t remember too much of what happened, but during my first mission on the Veritas, I was trying to disconnect a drone from the Hive Mind when they caught on to my device and used that to partially assimilate me without me even realizing they did so. Ayiana nearly choked on her sandwich; a look of surprise and fear was on her face. Sevo: You nearly got *ASSIMILATED?!* :: She was beginning to think Galven was rather reckless. :: He stopped to take a drink and waited for the next reveal so that she could digest more about what he said. After a few seconds, he took another drink and began speaking again. Galven: ::shakes his head:: No nearly. Another mission aboard the Montreal, a Klingon terrorist had poisoned me which activated the nanoprobes that I injected into myself during those earlier years which acted as a bridge leading towards my nervous system which I basically assimilated myself, but it actually saved my life by improving my nervous system to act as a strong barrier from the poison that would’ve killed anyone else. She paused, taking a long, slow chug of her drink. Sevo: I’m going to need more bloodwine… :: She paused, finishing the mug. :: So you still have the nanoprobes in you? :: Ayiana eyed Galven up and down suspiciously, as if he was ready to burst into a Borg at any moment. :: Galven: Don’t worry. The nanoprobes were taken out by Lael. You can even see for yourself if you want? Lael Rosek. Ayiana remembered her; served with the woman for a time on the Victory and Gorkon. Sevo: No, I’ll take your word for it. Glad to hear Lael is doing well. How is her spinal injury? He didn’t even realize he said Lael’s name until Ayiana said it back to him. As he furrowed his brow and took the rest of his drink. German really tried to find the words that were suddenly lost on him. As if a long forgotten memory had just been burned into his mind. Galven: Computer. Another round of drinks. Double on the Ale. Ayiana paused her meal, blinking. Did she say something wrong? The last time he had seen her was very short and sudden. With all the work German busied himself with, he hadn’t had the chance to mourn the loss of the relationship. Galven: ::murmurs:: She had to stop taking the medicine when she found out we were pregnant. ::grasps his second drink:: Last time I heard, she was doing well enough. ::grasps the mug with both hands:: The sudden transfer orders the Astraeus received really affected her. ::takes a drink:: I lost her when the baby was lost. ::clears his throat:: Win some and you lose some, right? Anyways, that was too much to say and to put on you. I apologize. Ayiana straight up dropped her food on her plate, completely forgotten. She stared right at Galven. Sevo: *Pregnant?!* I haven’t heard from her in a while but...she was...you were…damn. She paused again, taking a long, slow sip of wine, more to shut her mouth than anything else, while she regained her composure. Sevo: I...I’m sorry. I didn’t know you and her were like that. I’m sorry for your loss. Galven: I chose not to have our relationship broadcasted so others wouldn’t think my promotions and awards were given to me because I was sleeping with the First Officer. No need to apologi-- Sevo: Don’t put down the loss so quickly. You lost *a child.* I have no idea how I’d feel if that happened, and I’ve had several over the centuries. It was a good thing that she had interrupted him because he hadn’t put two and two together ever since the news broke about it. German was always a workaholic, but when something so tragic happened, he would hammer down which would help his memory from thinking about any of those transgressions. Galven: ::stares at his mug:: Her name was going to be Galilea Belle. I was so excited about finally being a father. ::smiles softly, lost in thought as he saw more of his reflection in the mug:: The things I was going to spoil her with. It hasn’t been easy, but Lael is most likely better off without someone like me. ::takes a sip, then glances back up at Ayiana:: Are you seeing anyone? Ayiana smiled as Galven revealed his daughter’s name. Sevo: That’s a beautiful name. I’m sure you would have been a great father. :: She took a sip of her freshly refilled wine. :: No, I’m not at the moment. I hope you’re not asking...I mean...we just met...again...um… :: This time, she stuffed her mouth with a large bite of the sandwich.:: oO SHUT. UP. MOUTH. Oo Galven: ::chuckles:: I wasn’t asking, but more like trying to reverse engines on myself for the time being. I wouldn’t be a great candidate to match your prowess anyways. ::extends his mug to klink hers as a signal hopefully allowing the awkwardness to drift away:: She lifted her mug, completing the toast. Sevo: Well, I haven’t exactly had the best luck with relationships recently. Not sure what you’ve heard about me or my… “prowess”? You mean my work? Galven: Your work and being the best training officer to work with as a cadet and trainer. Even though we’re galaxies apart, I still like to brush myself up with what other scientists are doing. Especially Lt. Commander Ayiana Sevo. My students hear enough about you from me. ::smirks with a wink as he takes a drink:: Her cheeks were starting to turn a shade remarkably similar to the bloodwine she was drinking. Sevo: Heh, thanks, I guess. I keep up with most of the scientific community, and I’ve seen your name here and there. You’ve become something of a celebrity among temporal mechanics circles. Galven: I don’t know about celebrity status, but when you’ve got plenty of time to work on, there’s suddenly even more time to further more research. ::smiles at his own bad pun:: Sevo: :: She arched an eyebrow at the bad joke. :: Ha. Ha. Ayiana smiled at German as she took a sip of her wine. She was glad to meet another scientist, and someone who made her laugh. JP written by Lt. Commander German Galven 2O/Chief Science Officer 6reatDane@gmail.com Starbase 118 Ops - USS Narendra V239507GG0 “Adhere to your purpose and you will soon feel as well as you ever did. On the contrary, if you falter, and give up, you will lose the power of keeping any resolution, and will regret it all your life.” - Abraham Lincoln & Lt. Commander Ayiana Sevo Research Coordinator U.S.S. Gorkon V239109AS0 “Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.” -Carl Sagan
  15. ((OOC - I've combined both of the players posts. This was all tag style and not a JP. Incredible job you two!)) ((Sickbay, StarBase 118 Ops)) Bailey had worked on her engineering project for most of the day before her body needed sleep. The next day it seemed she had a few tasks to do before she could relax again; not for long. She had a few medical exams to conduct and a meeting with First Officer Nijil to set up. Sheila had rolled into sickbay in her wheelchair rather early ready to start her day. The woman seemed to arrive just as her first patient did. Without hesitation she entered sickbay and was immediately welcomed by Dr. Bailey, who was expecting her. Bailey: Ms. Casparian. Good to see you. Casparian: Hello Lieutenant Bailey, good to see you again as well. I hope I did not keep you waiting? Bailey: Not at all I got here only a few minutes ago. Why don’t you follow me and hop up on a biobed? Casparian: Certainly. ::walks towards the biobed:: With a small hop, she sat herself on the biobed and let her legs casually rock back and forth a bit. Going to medical facilities was not her favorite pastime, but it didn’t make her particularly nervous either. Her inquisitive eyes looked around the sickbay almost with childlike curiosity. Bailey could tell that the woman was maybe a bit nervous, most people were no matter how routine the appointment was. Bailey: ::gathered her tools as she talked:: How are you feeling? Casparian: At the moment, I feel fine. ::chuckles:: Well, except for the bruise on my shin from the chair I bumped into this morning, ::reaches down and rubs the sore spot:: but that’s nothing. She was used to having bruises, sometimes the smallest bump or pinch would cause her to bruise up, and other times, with similar bumps or pinches, nothing happened. It had been like this for as long as she could remember and other than it being not very attractive when showing bare legs or arms, it did not really bother her. Bailey nodded at that. Bruises were normal and nothing to worry about unless they happened without warning or a good wack to a limb. The doctor was sure it was nothing but her mind always went to the worst first as a precaution. Bailey: Do you mind if I take a look at it? Casparian: Not at all. ::smiles and keeps her leg still:: Go right ahead. Bailey: Standard checks. I’m sure it’s nothing. Bailey waved her medical tricorder in a gesture to indicate that she was going to use it and if it was okay. Even if she never directly asked she always wanted to make sure the patient was comfortable with her using it. Romyana had no issues with tricorders, so she returned a smiley nod. Medical tricorders were a specialized variant of the one she used every day at work herself. They were simply scanning devices. Casparian: I know that I bruise up quickly, but they disappear easily too. ::shrugs:: Always been like this. Bailey: Tell me...how have you been sleeping? Any recent health changes I should know about? Casparian: I sleep like a rose, the quarters on the Starbase are very comfortable, I must say! ::turns her eyes up to think:: Anything recent. No. Bailey: Indeed they are. ::The young doctor couldn’t argue with that:: What about your genealogy or speciesology? Sheila had of course taken a look at the patient file but had only really glanced over it. When she saw the note about the genealogy her face developed a small frown. She thought it was then best to ask during the appointment. Casparian: ::nods:: My Grandmother is Vulcan, so I’m… ::hesitates:: mixed. Romyana assumed that the Lieutenant had received her medical files and was therefore familiar with her medical history. Especially the peculiarities that came with her having mixed Human and Vulcan heritage that made her physiology slightly different than normal and the problems this had caused in the past. Long, long ago. That made more sense based on the rest of the file notes now. Bailey: Thanks for the clarification. Now when you were four you were admitted to the hospital? Casparian: Yes, I was admitted into hospital when I was four, because I had suddenly developed some serious complications after a simple infection. That was when the diagnosis was made. ::looks at the tips of her shoes:: It took a year to heal. I don’t remember much of that time. The way it was explained to me was that because my liver is more like a Vulcan one it is built to process copper-based blood cells, but with the rest of me being mostly Human, I have iron-based blood cells and my liver has difficulty coping with that. ::frowns:: An unhappy mix of genes, I suppose. ::upbeat:: I would rather have had pointy ears! She gave a small laugh. This just confirmed slightly for Sheila that Casparian was in fact given a diagnosis of Chronic Cirrhosis of the liver. Now just for some basic questions so Sheila could understand how the illness affected her new friend. Bailey: Chronic Cirrhosis of the liver? Casparian: Yes, and because I was still so young, after treatment, the liver could adapt and it stabilized. It has been for all those years now. Bailey: Good, good. I have some basic questions to ask you about it if you don’t mind? I want to understand your experience with it in order to tailor your care. Casparian: Naturally, feel free to ask me anything. I’ll do my best to answer. This didn’t come as a surprise to the ensign, she always had some sort of check-ins with physicians to monitor her condition and she hadn’t expected it to be any different this time. Bailey: A number of symptoms can occur as well as indicate the severity of the scarring. Tell me how do you typically feel on average? Casparian: I feel fine. I’m not particularly tired, not nauseous, no pain. I try to eat healthy and I don’t drink alcohol or synthahol for that matter - just to be safe. Bailey: That’s great to hear. Nothing sounds too severe then. Casparian: Indeed, I don't really notice anything of it in my daily life, except for the easy bruising, but that comes and goes. ::shrugs:: Bailey: You also don’t have any skin or eye discoloration from what I can see so no jaundice. ::slight pause:: If you don’t mind I would like you to lay down flat on the biobed. I would like to do a simple test to check on your liver. Sheila gave Casparian some time to adjust herself on the bed. This also gave Sheila s minute or two to adjust herself as well so that she could perform the test. Casparian: Um, okay. ::calmly lies back on the biobed and waits for Bailey to be ready too.:: Doctor Bailey sure was being thorough. The chief medical officer on the station where Romyana had done her cadet cruise had simply looked at the file, nodded, asked if she was fine and told her to come back if anything changed. Admittedly, she preferred Bailey’s approach - it felt more reassuring. Bailey: I’m going to give a few hard taps to you midsection on the side where your liver is. It shouldn’t hurt plus it should be fairly quick. Just tell me when you're ready. Casparian: Okidoki. I’m ready when you are. ::smiles comfortably:: Bailey: No pain? Bailey had given a few precise taps to Casparian’s abdomen. In doing so she couldn’t feel an enlargement of the liver, no unusual sounds. Everything seemed fine. Sheila had known it would be but as a doctor this was a reassuring piece of information. Casparian: No, didn’t hurt a bit. ::places her own hands on her abdomen, just below her rib cage, clasping her fingers:: What’s the verdict, Doc? Will I live? ::laughs:: Bailey: ::Small laugh:: Of course you will. Romyana had been calm and quiet during the test so the doctor could concentrate on palpitating her midsection, which felt pretty uncomfortable but certainly not painful. To Bailey this meant that she was in a fit mental state as well. Quite good. Now it was done, the ensign figured she could be a bit more lighthearted and joke - after all, it was nice to have a laugh at work sometimes, also for medical officers. Casparian: I assume you will want me to come into sickbay for regular checks? How often were you thinking? ::props herself up on her elbows:: I’m good with anything you propose. Bailey: I think we can start with just a regular yearly check. If we need to have more we can Casparian: Allright. ::sits up straight and speaks in a more serious tone:: What about you? Are you okay? I mean, now that I see you at work, I realize how difficult it really is for you to move around in these gravity conditions. Sheila leaned back in her wheelchair at that. For a moment she could feel every rough contact point her exoskeleton made with her body. Her body felt numb with the slight sudden shock of someone actually carrying for her in her work environment. Bailey: I’m doing as well as I can. I won’t lie and say I have an easy time. However I want to thank you for helping me. For half a second Sheila wanted to tell Casparian about her uncle. How she wasn’t 100% in a good place. But the need left as quickly as it came. No, she was going to tell Nijil first. But she could smile knowing she had such a great friend with her. For a fleeting moment it seemed as if Sheila was going to say something else, though Romyana could have been mistaken and replied amicably, while bringing her legs back to dangle over the edge of the biobed and pushing herself off it with a tiny hop. Casparian: Oh, you mean the other day when Rustyy and I tinkered around to improve your forearm crutches and leg braces? That’s alright, it was really no effort. I think they turned out pretty good. Bailey: You are helping make things better. Casparian: ::speaks with a serious and genuine tone:: Thank you Sheila. I appreciate the compliment. Of course, the same goes for you. Romyana watched as the Aleysian woman settled herself back in her wheelchair. It was impressive that she'd decided to join Starfleet knowing that she’d have to work and live for the most part in much more difficult conditions than many other species. The young Ensign doubted if she would have been brave enough to do the same if she were in Sheila’s position. With that Sheila returned back to a professional manner. Their appointment time was almost up. Bailey: With that I think you're all set to go. On your way out your welcome to schedule your next appointment with one of the nurses. ::At that she paused. Deep breath.:: as a friend before you go mind if I offer a hug? Casparian: Okay, I'll do that. ::glances back at the door listening to Sheila’s question:: That is awfully nice of you! Of course you can. With that the two women gave a short embrace. Romyana was not used to receiving affection like this, her parents were not the cuddly kind, it was something she missed growing up. After, Bailey smiled giving a small two finger wave, her middle and pointer finger waving. The appointment went well, no reason for more appointments at this moment in time. Patient seemed to be in both fine physical and mental health based on her exam results as well as reactions to said test. It was a smile knowing she had a great friend. One she cared for as well as one that cared for her. Casparian: I’m sure we’ll catch up again later. ::heads out of sickbay:: Ciao! The appointment went well, the Doctor seemed not only very knowledgeable but also very caring towards her patients, which Romyana appreciated a lot. And Sheila had said she considered her a friend, that was a very nice compliment to get and she shared the sentiment for the Elaysian woman. Life on this Starbase was looking better by the day. ------ Lieutenant JG Sheila Bailey Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0 "Ta-er al-Safar" - the Canary; No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men - (Quotes) Sara Lance; Legends Of Tomorrow Ensign Romyana Casparian Engineering Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239703RC0 * * * Live your dreams, don't dream your life * * *
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