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  1. The level od SASS that @Quen Deena can percolate sky rocket in this sim. I loved it! ____ ((Transporter Room 1, Deck 1, USS Thor)) She still had to make that punch-card for Teller. And probably Alieth, too, while she was at it. Both of them had been among the injured beamed over from the Penetrator. Deena would have liked to say she was surprised, but… she wasn't. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she ought to start a betting pool: every time one of them leaves the ship, guess the number of minutes before they come back knocked out. Maybe the Zet would find it funny…. But knowing them, gambling on injuries sustained by the boss was probably a severe violation of contract. Speaking of the Zet, it had been an… interesting few days. The biggest hurdle they’d encountered was, by far, the cultural divide between Starfleet and the Zet. From what she’d managed to glean from the plethora of untreated conditions and anxieties over payment, their society was transactional enough to make the Ferengi look generous. Verbal assurances had gotten them nowhere. Salo and Rumboldt had come together to tweak one of the standard injury report forms to include some nonsense about method of payment cobbled together from a variety of historical datafiles. Apparently, it made just enough sense to keep the majority of the Zet distracted enough to allow the medical teams to administer proper treatment before consigning the PADDs to the growing electronic graveyard on Dr Alieth’s desk. Unfortunately, that had attracted the attention of members of the Penetrator's crew who announced themselves as middle management and demanded a complex series of meetings be undertaken. Presumably, the intent was to negotiate… something - probably the nonexistent price tag, if she had to guess. Their requests piled one on top of the other, so filled with jargon and acronyms even the universal translator couldn’t make them make sense. Deena had come quite close to having some rather unprofessional words with a particularly insistent one when Connelly lit on the idea to have the middle managers meet amongst themselves to discuss the planning of the meetings. She owed the woman a beer for that. Several. What was the collective noun for a group of middle managers anyway? An obstruction? She smirked to herself. It was at least accurate, if not correct. The officers took position around the transporter pad and Geoff nodded to Chief Larell, but paused before stepping onto the pad. Teller: Doctors, Ensign, glad we're all here. The situation is this ::Geoff tapped on a nearby display and showed images from the planet:: We began beaming down our evacuees to a location they designated as their 'mandated domicile,' but they're being turned away and we're not sure why. We've had to temporarily stop relaying people to the ground until we can sort this out. Quen: Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with the mysterious meeting that started four days ago? Alieth gave a slight nod at her department colleague's input. Alieth: I concur. Anything else we need to consider whilst we are on the surface? Teller: Well, in addition to making sure the people you treated actually have homes to go back to the Fleet Captain wants us to take a look around. A through one. I don't know about you three, but some of what we saw on the Penetrator left a real bad taste in my mouth. We need to understand the Zet better and until we do, lets keep digging. Questions? Katsim: No sir. Deena shook her head. Oh, she had questions, all right - none that any of them could answer, of course... Alieth: Nor do I, Commander Teller: Very well, eyes open, best behavior...::Geoff was speaking to himself as much as anything, considering his introduction:: we're the friendly aliens you... Deena had a half-formed quip about "best behavior" including not becoming The Concussion Crew, but the transporter cycle took hold before she could get it out, whisking the away team off the ship. ((Employee Esplanade 993 - Saldanian Life@Home Employee Mandated Domicile Services, LLC)) What hit Deena first was the headache-inducing contrast between the dark, dinghy metals and grimy glass of the buildings (amplified by the lack of natural light), and the eye-watering brilliance of loud advertisements that were artificially lit with what could only be described as the power of a thousand suns. Instinctively, her hand went up to shield her eyes until they had a chance to adjust. What she wouldn’t give for a set of inner eyelids right now… Of course, those tended to come with a set of overly-sensitive olfactory glands. Which, now that the aroma was coming through, would probably not be a good thing. Burnt metal, rot, bodily fluids; a rank, stomaching churning aroma of hopelessness and misery mixed with cheap food and poor hygiene. Half a pace in front of her, Alieth stumbled back a step and gripped Deena’s arm to steady herself. She was a bit surprised her colleague was still conscious. The scent hung so thickly in the air, it was beginning to settle on Deena’s tongue. Their destination was an office several hundred meters into the structure but they had chosen to land outside, where some of their former guests were milling around or encamped along the perimeter. Teller: Vice Associate Rod'gurs...what seems to be going on here? Why aren't the crew going inside? From what she’d learned of their emotional expression, the Zet seemed deeply troubled - treading on depressed. Rod'gurs: A Capital Loss. Declared Capital Loss. Ledger closed. Credit history gone. No severance. Alieth: You mean the shipwreck? The Penetrator's fate? Deena blinked, confused. The words themselves sounded familiar enough - the order, not so much. Quen: What does that mean - "capital loss"? Rod'gurs: All of us. Written off. ::Shaggee made a choking sort of noise somewhere between a giggle and a sob.:: Declared a loss. It was the most fiscally prudent move for the Corporation. Teller: Is there anyone we can discuss this with here? The Zet seemed to fall back into a prepared sales presentation. The words seemed repeated from deep memory. Rod'gurs: The Saldanian corp arcology complete domicile solution is a remarkable innovation in low operational cost minimal survivability living. To streamline administrative, judicial and civic oversight, local arcology directors will have broad discretion in matters of employee housing retention or termination. ::The zet snapped out of his fugue, now making eye contact with Geoff.:: You might be able to schedule a meeting with them, but it'll be several rotations until they even meet again for an emergency. We'd need to file an emergency motion and... Deena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. A Ferengi dream - a nightmare for everyone else. A nightmare was still technically a dream, yes? Teller: I think they'll meet with us. Lead the way, Mr. Rod'gurs. Everyone else - take all the readings you can as we work our way into this structure ::Geoff stepped in something, paused, and shook his head.::...and watch your step. Alieth: Understood. ::turning to the Bajoran:: Doctor Quen, gather data on any Zet we come across, cross-reference it with what we gathered on the Thor. As she said this, she pulled out a tricorder that had been clipped to her hip and started scanning the surroundings. Deena did the same, until she caught a glimpse of something large and multi-legged with a vaguely furry shell skittering away from the path into a grimy, dark crevice. Quen: So long as someone keeps an eye out for the *ahem* wildlife... Soon they were all trotting towards their destination, most of them with their noses practically buried in their tricorders. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of Zet nearby and, as far as any of them could determine, none of them were in any state one could rightly call "healthy". Most of the infants had some degree of malnutrition or developmental problems. Over half showed mutations due to toxins or early exposure to radioactive substances. Almost all of the adults examined appeared to be on the verge of exhaustion. Injuries or scars were common and were a sign of a violent life or gruelling work. Many of the Zet in range had implants of some kind: limbs, organs, in the case of one particularly large Zet who stopped as they passed, almost his entire skull had been replaced by cybernetics. Deena’s focus narrowed in on the pulsing, angry readings coming from the device in her hand. Alieth: Admittedly, the Penetrator crew were the height of health compared to this population. Deena was silent for a moment. She’d been thinking the same thing. A tiny part of her had been clinging to the faint hope that what they’d seen on the Penetrator was the result of extraordinary circumstances and not indicative of the whole. Unfortunately, that was in fact the case - just not the way she’d imagined... Quen: Somehow, I was still hoping we would see better… ::beat:: I’m picking up a large number of parasitic infections as well - it’s not just the visible. Teller: Response Alieth: Perhaps, but I would prefer to have a larger sample before making a hypothesis. The shadow of the building fell over them as they crossed the arched entrance. The stench there was even worse than before. In the gloomy corridor a number of Zet lay in a pile, some asleep, some with their gaze transfixed on the ceiling and an expression of bliss that could only be indicative of extensive drug intake. A low beep from Alieth’s tricorder indicated that at least one of the Zet had already died. Deena glanced down at her own, and gave a subtle, somber nod as confirmation. Katsim: I don’t understand how people could live like that. The words were soft, spoken more to herself than for the sake of conversation. Alieth: Neither do I. Deena’s eyes swept the scene, her heart aching with both anger and empathy. Take away the garish advertisements - add in a fine layer of ore dust, a haze of smoke, a fence.... Change the species, of course. She’d seen enough holoimages to recognise the parallels. Wouldn’t exactly be an uncommon sight a generation ago on her world - an endless feedback loop of hopelessness and poverty, no escape except... Quen: ::softly:: It’s not always a choice... Teller: Response Alieth: Yes sir. Their steps led them to an inner courtyard, revealing the myriad balconies that hung from each floor, trying to catch the smallest percentage of natural light that seeped dirty and miserable into that sort of oversized skylight. On either side were staircases, spiralling sluggishly up each floor until they disappeared into the heights, while at the bottom, facing them, the inviting door of a lift glittered, its sides and interior ablaze with a thousand screens full of advertising, from the nutritious substitute solyent greenery to corporate advertisements about the need to raise a herd of children to contribute to the next generation of corporate employees. The garish visual assault made Deena’s head pound. Alieth: The use of the lift means a supplementary charge of 1.5% per each dozen floors, which will be automatically deducted from the company's payroll with every usage. A recurrent user discount can be claimed provided that you present the certificate 454b for essential workers or provide the document 33t section 88 of progeny cession .... Anyway, there seems to be a fee for its use. Teller/Katsim: Response Quen: No chance of an out-of-towners’ discount, I suppose? Deena was half-joking. Or so she thought. The Vulcan glanced at the text once more, her eyes sweeping over the text and then narrowing even further until she reached the fine print. Alieth: Non-corporate visitors, workers from other corporations or other uncovered visitors may use the service in exchange for one day lease of work for SalCorp per floor climbed, being at least 80 hexaclicks per week or 40 if the applicant applies as a subject for experimentation of new SalCorp products not authorized yet by Central Business Agency….Maybe stairs then? How many floors do we have to climb? Deena grumbled under her breath. Slave labor and experimentation... Quen: Why am I not surprised? Teller/Katsim/Alieth: Response Quen: Well - stairs it is, I guess. Unless anybody feels like spending a couple extra months here… Teller/Katsim/Alieth: Response Quen: Any good hiking songs among those sea shanties, Commander? Teller: Response Katsim/Alieth: Response Tag/TBC __________ Lieutenant Quen Deena Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239602QD0
  2. @Wes Greaves is a great scene creator, and the flavour he give to each scene he creates could introduce you fully in a strange new world, as much as give a LOT of space for his fellow writers to developt the plot themselves. Awesome cooperative writing on display of a great writer. Good job man! -------- Capt Wes Greaves - Extravagance Greaves’s Personal Log – It’s a strange feeling. The skipper put me in charge the away team to meet with one of the Zet. A pretty important one by all accounts. I’ve led teams before, but not like this. This is a group of officers under my charge, on an exceptionally strange first contact situation. When they talk at the Academy about being prepared for the unexpected, well I guess they were right. We’ve all been briefed on the very little we know about these people. Capitalistic ideals taken to an extreme. Some kind of significant class structure. It event seems that most of the Zet on the Penetrator were both in awe of and terrified of the upper class. I’m concerned with how the Federation’s ideals might clash with the Zet, but that’s what first contact is. A meeting of worlds. Let’s hope this is one of the smoother meetings. End log. ((Saldanian Corporate Hegemony Headquarters, Zet Homeworld)) The building was exceptional. That was the only word Wes could think of to describe it. They had beamed onto the planet at the described coordinates and time. There they found themselves in a giant plaza amidst a sprawling city in front of one of the tallest buildings Wes had ever seen. It looked like the entire thing was made of some kind of marble that shone with some kind of internal iridescent light. The plaza itself was circular and ringed by dozens of shining statues made of what looked like gold. Each statue depicted a different Zet, and without context, Wes had no idea who or what they stood for. The plaza itself was mostly deserted, with only a handful of Zet standing on the perimeter a few dozen meters away. They all had their backs to the away team and carried some sort of long metallic looking device which Wes assumed was some kind of weapon. If he had to guess, these were the building’s security, and the most likely reason that the plaza and the immediate vicinity was deserted. Greaves: Not exactly the welcome wagon I was expecting. Where is everyone? Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses Wes nodded along with the officer and caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. The doors to the massive building slid open to reveal a pale Zet who strode out across the plaza toward the team. If Wes didn’t know any better he’d say that the Zet looked nervous. It’s eyes darted back and forth between the away team members. He could hardly blame it. They were all aliens to the Zet. Borac: Hello, I am Sher’ok Borac. Please come with me. Owner and Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc awaits you in one of the upper chambers. Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses Borac: I’m sorry… I’ve not been authorized to discuss anything. Per my assignment I am to take you directly to the upper chamber. The Marine frowned and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t like being herded somewhere without any information. Regardless they had little choice, and if the Zet had intended them any harm they could have done it as soon as they beamed in. This was likely some posturing charade rather than anything malicious. Greaves: Very well then Mister Borac. Please, lead the way (motioning with his hand). Without another word the Zet, head bowed low and eyes focused just in front of him, led the team into the building. The lobby was brightly lit in a faint green-ish white light with several Zet standing upright behind a massive semi-circular desk that Wes sized up to be a reception-like area. Not stopping, their guide led them past the reception area to a waiting lift at the back of the room. Several golden faces were mounted on the walls near the lifts and Wes could swear the eyes followed them as they entered. The lift itself was made entirely of some transparent glass or metal and allowed the occupants to look out the rear of the massive building. From this angle Wes could see that the building was shaped like a ‘U’, with the lift overlooking the inside curve and out the top of the ‘U’. Without delay, the doors closed and the lift rapidly ascended as soon as the team was fully inside. The higher they went, the better Wes could see, and it quickly became apparent that the building overlooked a massive lake or ocean. Bird like creatures circled at the water’s edge. Greaves: Quite the view we’ve got here. Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses Borac: Again, I’m sorry. I’m not authorized to speak any more than what I’ve already said. Almost as if on cue the lift slowed to a stop and the doors parted again. They were high up. Very high up. Several kilometers if Wes had to guess. Borac didn’t wait for them to admire the view however and quickly set off down a long hallway and Wes was forced to step quickly to keep up with the man’s long gait. They didn’t go far however before the team stopped short of wide double doors. Borac: Here we are. Please, take a seat inside. Owner and Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting Pitorian Tolo’Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc will be with you shortly. Wes offered the man a smile and a nod, but before he could thank the Zet, the man had turned and started off down the hall. Greaves: Well, I guess we wait. Any idea how high up we are right now? Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses The room they had been led to was a large empty conference room dominated by a table made of that eerily glowing rock. The back wall however was floor to ceiling windows which overlooked the ocean. Greaves: (Low whistle) These people sure can appreciate a spectacular view. Look at that. Have you ever seen water that color before? Dar/Sirok/Jehe: Responses The doors at the back of the room parted as the Zet made his entrance and Wes turned to face the man whom he’d hoped would finally be the reason they had been sent to the planet. Anroc: Response TAG/TBC ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 =========================
  3. You're killing me, @Geoffrey Teller, you're killing me! IC: ((Employee Productivity Recovery Center - Endless Golden Penetrator)) Alieth: In addition, your knowledge about the biology of your species will help us to stabilize the injured. The more patients we can send to the Thor, the more optimal our performance will be. Shaggee was aghast and his head bobbed from side to side, his neck rigid with indignation. Rod'gurs: Help you treat the injured? I'm not certified for that. It would be a violation of my contract! Jehe: You are contractually forbidden from rendering aid to others in an emergency? Trying to be patient with these increasingly bizarre outsiders, Shaggee spread his hands and spoke as he would to an intern. Rod'gurs: 'Employees of the Saldanian Corporation are contractually forbidden from performing any duties for which they are not explicitly trained and certified via SalCorp Employee Enrichment & Productivity Improvement centers. Violation of this policy is grounds for employment and employee termination under subarticle....' Shaggee rattled off the book, chapter, section, subsection & codicil number from memory. HIs childhood nursery had the words 'Do only what you're told and nothing else' painted on the wall. It had been drilled into him before he even began his internship and it had served him well his whole career. Alieth: I am sure you want to reassess your priorities in this matter. Jehe: Consider it this way - the more of them you help us treat, the more...resources can be returned to service and placed back in um....back into the workforce. It could be...initiative! That's it. You'd be showing initiative. Best interests of your employer and all that. For the first time since they had appeared, the aliens seemed to be making sense to Shaggee. He forced his head to stop bobbing. Alieth: Think of it as safeguarding corporate property: while your contract does not precisely include this function, your superiors will certainly reward the safeguarding of the company's assets and your involvement in it. Alieth: It is the only logical course of action. For a moment, Shaggee seriously reconsidered taking his break. The tiny aliens made an interesting proposal and it was the kind of thing his favorite interactive hero, 'Refuse Recycler Ron'a,' would do to help her corp. She'd file the appropriate forms later, but in the moment she'd seize the opportunity to improve the fiscal footing of the corp, whatever it took. Shaggee swelled with pride as he imagined him standing alongside her, the Recyclers anthem ringing in his tympanic canals. In his excitement, he even shouted out her catchphrase. Rod'gurs: PROFITS OVER PEOPLE! Lets get fiscal! Shaggee bounded forward with his confidence significantly outsteping his competence. They came to an injured secondary technical supervisor he'd met once during a seminar on why ethics were improper in the workplace. Alieth: Any ideas about what could happen with them? Shaggee looked over the man and, based on an popular medical series he'd seen a half an episode of, made a diagnosis. Rod'gurs: Ah, yes, ruptured flosfus. Worst case I've seen since the MedicAcademic. He's a goner. Alieth: ...His...flosflus…. : She took a pause, longer than usual, before she kept speaking:: And you consider it a substantial impairment? Shaggee curled his fingers dramatically. Rod'gurs: Yes, he'd need a massive loan to get that treated and it's way outside his compensation band. His productivity is compromised...we've done all we can. Alieth: ...I see… The alien slipped a credit tab on the injured mans uniform then moved on. Shaggee was feeling even more confident, now grasping the intricacies of the aliens ingenious credit assessment system. They moved on from one injured person to the next, the aliens occasionally asking questions and Shaggee guessing at the answers. They seemed satisfied and Shaggee wondered for the first time in his career if he'd been misallocated as a child. Shaggee shook off the unsettling thought and realized an unscheduled employee conference had been called, with many of the remaining semi-productive crew attending. The aliens seemed concerned. Jehe: (Whispering to Alieth) Doc, might want to make a general announcement about covering costs. Everyone seems hesitant to accept help. Alieth: I suppose you are correct.:: Gazing from the intelligence officer to Rod'gurs and back to the former:: I am open to suggestions Rod'gurs: Well, these employees aren't as flexible and resourceful as I am. It's why I'm a vice associate director. I scored at least 3 points higher on the competency exam than any of them. I should write up a memo. Or maybe a presentation. Do you think we could access one of the training auditoriums? I could have slides together in a few clicks. Jehe: Response. She pondered the ideas for a while. Alieth: ::nodding:: That sounds about right. Let us proceed. Rod'gurs: Oh a spontaneous announcement? Well, I haven't had the opportunity to have the verbage reviewed by the departments litigation advisor. ::Shaggee gestured angrily:: He's on the floor over there, not working. ::Shaggee shrugged.:: Fine, I'll get the emergency motivator. Jehe: Response. Shaggee headed for the sealed compartment on the far wall and opened it with a irises scan. His account was invoiced for the equipment rental charges and a hefty deposit. The emergency motivator wasn't terribly powerful, but it would be enough to fill the room with Anroc's majestic voice. He returned to the aliens and inclined his head, prepared. Rod'gurs: Wrap your hands around this handle and your words will fill this room, but your voice will carry all the authority and timber of Shipmaster Anroc himself. You should feel honored, these are normally only used for mass terminations. You should inform them that their credit accounts are being assessed and they will all be invoiced before the end of the next salary period. That's all completely routine. Alieth: Indeed, they will have this offer at their service in exchange for keeping the assigned tags at all times as they will be traded for… Rod'gurs: Advise them that under the circumstances, a one time non-transferrable hardship stipend will be applied to their accounts if, and only if, they accept our terms and conditions. Feel free to add in any clauses or addenda your back office requires. Jehe: Response. Alieth: Once they have been transported to our starship the... Starfleet Corporation will request a series of biometric data that will constitute payment for the services provided. I repeat, you will only be asked for only data, and you may refuse to share what you consider to be inappropriate. The tiny alien was doing surprisingly well. Shaggee wondered how many motivation seminars she had run in her career, and suspected the number was quite high. Alieth: For more information, listen to the instructions of the Ensign Sehe and the Vice Associate Director Rod'gurs who will instruct you on the evacuation process. Shaggee took back the emergency motivator and spoke into it with fervor. Rod'gurs: Remember to ask yourselves 'what have I done for the corp today?' Today, fellow employees, your answer can be 'not dying,' so you can continue being productive associates. Ok, lets get moving, a transcript of this meeting will be available as soon as we find a living member of the stenographic staff. Jehe: Response Employees began moving out of the compartment and towards lifts that would take them back up towards the command deck. Those that couldn't move were carried and Shaggee noted with pride that each and every one wore their new credit assessment tags visibly and proudly. Rod'gurs: So, do you think I can take my break now? Jehe/Alieth: Response Rod'gurs: Oh, well. Do you think we should go with them? Jehe/Alieth: Response Tags/TBC ============== Shaggee Rod'gurs Vice Associate Director Of Crew Fulfillment & Disposal Endless Golden Penetrator V239509GT0
  4. @Geoffrey Teller speaks in Corporate JUST TOO WELL and I don't like it (well, I LOVE it, and it has killed me, 100% ROI here) _____________________________________________________________________________ (( Basic operating chamber for impulse and energy / Reactor chamber - Endless Golden Penetrator)) Jehe: We really are here to help sir. Let the doctor take a look at you, and then we can go tend to any of your...colleagues. The Vulcan nodded briefly, her attention focused on the device she was holding in her hands. Alieth: ::monotonously:: I am here to serve Shaggee didn't know what to make of these bizarre, tiny creatures. Their faces were remarkably featureless, with only two eyes and a dull uniformly colored dermis. The idea of trusting that some random creatures from beyond The Edge were here out of the kindness of their flonds was simply beyond Shaggee's ability. The powerful were powerful because they exploited anyone who wasn't. It was how the deathless had made their fortunes and built the great megacorps. It was how they had purchased control of the civil administration hundreds of years ago, freeing them to do whatever they wanted in the pursuit of greater riches. It was how they ruled the system to this day, and it was the only type of leadership Shaggee had ever known. Rod'gurs: Just please...don't damage my eyes. If I lose more than two I won't be able to keep my job. The alien cast an odd look at him before holding up a machine that made a gentle noise. Shaggee braced for the inevitable blast of pain or searing agony of cut flesh, but none came and after a moment, it was clear none was coming. Shaggee quite simply didn't understand. Alieth: (Gently) If you allow me, I will administer you half a dose of Cortropine is a minor stimulant that will make you feel better. Rod'gurs: But I...I don't have a credit account with you...you couldn't possibly give medicine away without at least a purchase order? A consultation charge? Shipping and handling? ::Shaggee looked from one alien to the other, their expressions confused.:: You couldn't possibly mean it's...it's...::Shaggee had trouble wrapping his flaps around the word::...free. Alieth: Indeed, for free. All six of Shaggee's eyes widened in shock. He had been seen by medical personnel nine times in his forty one cycles, and he had the invoices and debt from each visit in his personal ledger, notated down to the milicredit owed. The idea of receiving services and not paying for them seemed...almost sickeningly alien to him. It felt unnatural and alarming and strangely...good. Rod'gurs: Well..if..I guess...I promise to subscribe to your infostream! You can send me all the marketing material you want! My consumer analytics are yours, even my...very personal analytics! Everything! The small alien withdrew another small tool from her strangely shaped kit, loaded a vial of bright colored liquid then pressed the contraption against his dulcornomoious artery. Braced again for pain, Shaggee almost passed out in relief as the magical medicine surged through his system. He felt like he could work a septuple shift and still have energy to shop at the central bazaar. It was an incredible feeling...and he hadn't spent a credit. If Shaggee could've willed it, he would've died in that moment - as content as he had ever been. Jehe: How long have you been adrift here, if you do not mind my asking? Shaggee tried to get the number straight, but he wasn't entirely sure. He suspected only the deathless had known when the ship was truly lost, and Anroc hadn't bothered to share that information until the ships demise seemed immediately apparent. Rod'gurs: Weeks...months, maybe. Systems started failing almost as soon as we got close to the Edge, but the deathless...uh ::Shaggee looked uncomfortably towards the ceiling and the malevolent face starting down at him::...Shipmaster Pitorian Anroc, glory to him and all the First Eternals...he just told us to keep going. Then people started dying. So many. Alieth: (Blinking again). Interesting. ::Standing up:: Now, can you guide us to your colleagues that require assistance? Shaggee found his energy to be nearly boundless and sprang up, almost bouncing off the floor. Rod'gurs: Yes of course, there were several associate directors and vice presidents assigned to this section, but I'm the vice associate director, so they all report to me. ::Shaggee puffed up in momentary pride before remembering their situation:: well, the ones who are still alive report to me. The dead ones just go into the reclaimer. Are you...are you really going to help us? All of us? Jehe: Well, hopefully we can. We're Starfleet. Stuff like this is what we do best. Alieth: We will do everything in our capacity and about a 33% more The strange name stuck in Shaggee's tympanic canal and he tried to reproduce the alien sound. Rod'gurs: Sar'feet. That is a strange name for a corporation. What's your primary commodity? Voidships? Advanced pharma goods? Good ROI on those. Jehe: Response As they transited through the cavernous bay past busts and frescos of Anroc, Shaggee felt his steps lightening and for a moment thought the alien drug had given him even more extraordinary strength. It wasn't until he realized all of them were hopping from step to step, arcing instead of stepping, that he realized the spingrav system was failing again. Alieth: I suppose that is not a usual feature of this ship. Rod'gurs: No. It's a sign the ship is dying. The deathless....::Shaggee closed his eyes, not looking at any of Anroc's representations as he cursed the mans existence::...the deathless wouldn't stand for the discomfort of nullgrav. It's one of the most reliable systems on the ship. If it's failing, everything else will soon. Jehe: Response They finally made their way to the Employee Productivity Recovery Center where several dozen of the administration team was sprawled against walls or on some of the limited medbeds. The few with good credit had to share the compartments single autodoc, and the mechanism itself was running low on pharma-consumables. Shaggee didn't have enough credit to unlock another canister from the nearby store and no one on the financial services team was available to arrange a short term, high interest loan. Shaggee pointed towards the injured and wagged his flaps, satisfied there was nothing more he could've done. The aliens seemed unconvinced. Alieth: We will have to hurry. Ensign, I assume you are familiar with emergency triage. ::picking up a green card:: If i put one of this, send them to the bridge or contact the captain or commander to determine the nearest transport point. :: Holding up a red card :: You must put a transporter tag on them, they will be the first to be beamed directly to the sickbay. ::Raising an orange:: If you see someone with one of these, you have to decide if they walk or not, it will depend on whether they join the group of the green or the red ones and you should act in accordance. Jehe: Response Shaggee tried to help as best he could. Rod'gurs: Uh, you understand that none of these people can pay, right? I think some of the accounting team is in the next compartment over, maybe if one of them is still alive they could generate a purchase order for you? Whatever would be easiest for your back office team. The aliens seemed to be talking among themselves, organizing small colored shards. One seemed to be of particular import, and Shaggee immediately understood their meaning. Alieth: If you see one of these only... move them away from the transit areas. Rod'gurs: Oh, credit rating labels. That's a very clever idea - you can assign them all to income brackets now and it'll make billing so much easier later. You aliens really are advanced! Jehe: Response Alieth: ::nodding:: Let's go Rod'gurs: I think I'll stay here, my quarterly fifteen minute break is coming up and I really feel like I've earned it. If you need me please leave a message with one of the admin staff...I know some of them survived. Jehe/Alieth: Response Rod'gurs: Oh are you sure? Well, I suppose I can defer it until next month. If you think it's that important. Jehe/Alieth: Response Rod'gurs: Help you treat the injured? I'm not certified for that. It would be a violation of my contract! Jehe/Alieth: Response Tags/TBC ============== Shaggee Rod'gurs Vice Associate Director Of Crew Fulfillment & Disposal Endless Golden Penetrator V239509GT0
  5. It's always a pleasure to see a writer put himself in the skin (or chitin) of a new species, but @Wes Greaves does it magnificently here, giving us a great perspective about the Zets. The trick with the font (which unfortunately doesn't display correctly in half the browsers, so I don't know how it will translate here) is just top notch. Excellent work! __________________________________ Acting Shipmaster Nokzu – The UMF Comes to the Rescue? ((Management & Oversight Center - Endless Golden Penetrator)) The last several hexaclicks had been some of the worst of her life. Nenni rubbed the horny protrusions on the back of her head to try and relieve some of the pressure in her head. They had failed to secure the hull breach and had lost too much fuel. Instead, being able to land on the planetoid they had intended on, instead they were now hurtling toward it with no means to slow down. Many of the centrifugal compartments had been compromised and slowed to a grinding halt and they had taken more hull breaches. A third of the ship had already vented into space. Moreso, they had detected something out past the edge. At first, they couldn’t be entirely sure it wasn’t a comet, but as time had ticked by it became increasingly apparent that their sensors had detected a vessel of some kind, and it was coming right for them. That was nearly five hexaclicks ago. Now the room was dimly lit and nearly abandoned. Nenni had sent the ship’s crew into hiding in the compartments that still had air in them. Either another company had been able to make it past the edge in secret, or there was about to be aliens approaching them. Neither option was a particularly safe one. Especially since they’d received no communications from the approaching vessel. With mere clicks left until intercept, Nenni and Saulan were the only crew in the management center. Silently they waited together wondering what might happen next when suddenly a bright shimmering light filled the front of the massive room. Vaguely Zetenoid shapes began materializing inside the shimmering light. Raising to their full height off their back spurs, the two sprinted to a table and flipped it on its side to take cover. Whispering softly, Nenni turned to Saulan. Nokzu: Have you ever heard of technology like that? Saulan: ? Nokzu: Dear Klin’thu, these might be real aliens… (pause) Be ready for anything my friend. Saulan: ? Nenni unholstered a small handheld device with a tiny protruding metal barrel and kept it pointed toward the ground. Peaking from the corner of the table, she watched as the creatures began making noises to one another. Teller: I heard stories of Orion Slavemasters who us̶̯̅̈́ed to display material wealth like this as a form of...bragg̵̱̀̓ing. Showing off to the others. I think whoever designed this place ̶̠̬́had them all beat. You two getting any readings? Alieth/Jehe: Response Teller: Damn, if spin-ĝ̵̛͈ravity is failing it's going to make our job that much harder. Ensign Jehe, start setting up those pattern enhancers. There seems to be plenty of space. Doctor, let’s see if we can find ạ̷̼̅n interface for the ships computer. If there is one. Alieth/Jehe: Response Nenni turned back to her friend, her eyes wide after watching the short pink and harry things on her ship. As she moved, the object in her hand collided ever so gently against the table and a soft metal clank resounded throughout the compartment. Geoff's head snapped around, a flash of movement on the very edge of his peripheral vision. On the other side of the room, crouched down behind an overturned table, something had tried to sneak a glimpse at them. Teller: Greetings. We're responding to your distress call. Can you understand me? The noises the creature made began twisting through the air and in Nenni’s mind until finally they resolved into something coherent. In common. oO How… Oo She traded looks with Saulan and stoof from behind the table. Compared to the deathless Nenni was short, but being face to face with these hairy creatures she felt like a towering presence. oO Is this how the deathless see us? Oo Nokzu: I… I understand you. How… is this possible? Who are you? Saulan: Response Teller: My name is Commander Geoffrey Teller, from the Federation Starship Thor. We're here to help you. ::Geoff tried to be diplomatic:: Nice..uh...nice ship you've got here. Nenni blinked her six eyes simultaneously. Federation? The United Mercantile Federation? That made no sense. Sure, they were working on a competitor ship to the Golden Penetrator, but the company’s best information said that the Penetrator was years ahead of them on development. Besides, how could they have this technology and no one know about it? And this crew, the creatures that spoke in strange noises, but somehow, she could understand. It all made no sense. Saulan: ? Nokzu: And I am Acting Shipmaster Nenni Nokzu. The UMF sent you to our aid? I’m sorry, I don’t exactly understand. Teller/Alieth/Jehe: ? Saulan: ? Nenni tried to take in it all. The noises the creatures made seemed to echo slightly from their language into common, and some of their words were hard to follow. Nokzu: You said you’re here to help. Saulan can describe the damage we have, but our biggest issue right now is fuel. Does your ship have any to spare? Teller/Alieth/Jehe/Saulan: ? Tags! and TBC! ========================= Nenni Nokzu Acting Shipmaster Endless Golden Penetrator E239702WG0 =========================
  6. I have always said that one of the great advantages of our format (and one of the things I really like to read and aspire to be able to portray one day with my writing) is consequences. Although we write in an episodic way, more or less, what we write affects our characters, polishes them or breaks them and changes their way of seeing the world and relating to others. To witness these two wonderful writers here, dealing with the consequences of the previous mission as the starting gun for a new one is delightful, and I could have read six more parts of it. @Alex Brodieand @Tony, aka Kells being great here as usual. Kudos, guys JP: Flt. Capt. Kells & Lt. Cmdr. Brodie - “Shouldering A Burden” ((Captain’s Ready Room, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Alex had one more stop on his rounds and it was the highest office in the land - or at least the highest office on the ship. He pressed the chime on the outside of the door and waited to be admitted. Kells: Come in, Counselor. Brodie had only seen Kells twice since he’d been injured on New Bajor. The first was immediately in the wake of his injuries while he was still convalescing in his biobed and the second was when he had breezed into, and then out of, his office to hand him some more items for his ‘fruit salad’. The man was due a follow-up as his injuries, even to Alex’s medically untrained eye, had looked quite severe and it was the damage and injuries you couldn’t see that concerned him. He stepped through the door and found Kells sitting at his desk fighting the greatest enemy of Starfleet and the Federation - admin. Brodie: Captain, thank you for seeing me. Aron offered a wan smile. He’d just finished with a round of comm calls, in which he’d assigned teams and tasks ahead of the Thor’s arrival at the ship (if it was a ship) that was apparently in distress (if indeed it was). They had several hours or travel time, so Aron had left himself only half an hour for this appointment. It was meant to be longer than that, but even half an hour felt like a luxury at the moment, even with the travel time. Going to counseling at all felt a little like a luxury, though Aron tried to dismiss this thought. It was a persistent and untrue belief among captains that counseling wasn’t necessary, but Aron had always tried to instill the opposite in himself and in his officers. Now, more than ever, he tried to cling to that. Kells: Thank you, Alex. I’m afraid it needs to be short today, in the light of this distress call. Alex nodded with a frown and gestured back towards the door he had just come through and bridge that lay beyond. Brodie: Aye, I heard something on those lines as I was walking through - all sounds very mysterious. Alex couldn’t help but think back to the Fortuna. That had been a very mysterious distress call too...back when he had first joined the fleet. He hoped this would play out slightly better for Salo, Jehe, Udro and other new arrivals to the Thor. Kells: And speaking of, I’d like you to grab Doctor Quen and Ensign Dar sometime in the next few hours. I don’t know whether we’ll be dealing with refugees or annoyed pirates or broken robots or what, but between the three of you, I think you can handle anything that might need our assistance. This was a broad order and Aron knew it. At the moment, though, he didn’t think he had anything more to give. He hoped that the science officers on the bridge and his own strat ops team would be able to provide both the counselor’s team and Geoff’s away team with more information as the Thor approached the signal’s point of origin. Brodie: ::smiling:: So...prepare for everything then? :::Taking a seat:: Although, if it is any of the above three then I’m well practiced. Anyway, we’ve some time before we’re there and I’m sure Geoff can handle anything that might come up in the meantime...so...push ::gesturing to the pile of PADDS:: all that to one side for a moment and take a moment to breathe. Kells: I know, I know, no work. (beat) Okay. That’s the last I’ll think about it. That was a lie and they both knew it, but Aron screwed his eyes shut for a moment, hoping that it would be enough to signal to his thoughts that he wanted a brief respite. Brodie: So, somewhat later than I’d have liked but our respective schedules have kept clashing, but - how are you? ::Eying the PADDS again:: Other than slightly over worked? The question, much like Kells’ order, was broad. It was one of the hardest questions to answer but it left nothing off the table and it wasn’t as much what was said but how it was said. The body language, the facial expressions as they thought on an answer could give away a great many things. Kells: (quickly) I’ve been fine. (beat, more normal) You know, the Gratitude Festival helped. It was better to have some downtime. But even as he said so, Aron’s expression caught for a moment. The Festival had also meant that he had been back down on New Bajor, and although he’d been nowhere near the place where he’d been shot, just beaming down had been enough of a struggle. The change in expression did not go unnoticed - action units one, four and fifteen...with a few other things thrown in. Brodie: I’m told it was quite a ceremony...and I’m glad you’ve been able to get a little respite, you have been through a lot. ::He pointed to the man's arm:: How is the shoulder by the way? Kells: It’s healing as expected. Our medical staff work wonders. Brodie: ::Nodding:: They certainly do...probably a little lingering stiffness for a while. It’s amazing how much you move your shoulder though the working day. Brodie knew from his own experience how painful and linering something as, relatively, simple as a stab wound was. He was fairly sure that massive explosive damage would take a little longer. Kells: I’ve been learning just how much. I had no idea, really. Brodie: Any other effects? ::Pause:: Obviously everyone reacts to a traumatic event differently - psychologically speaking. Sometimes it’s very obvious - flashbacks, nightmares for example. Aron started to answer, to say that he hadn’t had any after-effects. But Brodie had given him extreme examples. Aron hadn’t experienced nightmares after this, and he certainly had before. But that wasn’t exactly what Brodie was asking, and he knew it. Kells: I haven’t had those (beat) particular symptoms. Brodie: Other times it can be more subtle...numbing or avoidance tactics…::Glancing at the PADDs again:: Distracting oneself with work to try and restore normality...for example. Kells: (with a brief smile) Definitely that. Brodie: ::Smiling slightly himself:: I’m only-half joking...do you feel you’ve been coping well? Kells: Generally, some difficulty concentrating. Trouble sleeping, sometimes. And I’ve felt either like I have too much or too little energy. Alex nodded, hyperarousal was another tell-tale sign. Brodie: Now, I think we both know that’s not quite right. Again Aron smiled briefly. Kells: Don’t worry. I’m not going to say I’m fine and dismiss you. But this isn’t my first time in a situation like this, or in dealing with post-traumatic stress. This was, Aron thought for a moment, its own problem. How upsetting was it that he thought of this sort of fallout as normal for an officer with a long service record? But that was a systemic problem, and one that he couldn’t solve with Brodie in the next twenty minutes. Kells: I want to continue to work with you, Alex, but you have to trust me, too. I can’t manage without help, but I can manage with help, and that’s where I need you. Kells: I can still function as this crew’s CO, with the support I need. Alex leaned forwards in his chair. Brodie: Aron, ::He deliberately used the man's first name:: if I thought for a single moment that you were not capable of commanding this vessel through a psychological impairment we wouldn’t be having this conversation alone. We would be having it in my office, with Alieth and Geoff present, and I would do my duty and be relieving you of command. Alex had read the man's file, as much as was available to him without seeking additional clearance, and he was aware that he had been through a great deal throughout his career - particularly his time aboard the Drake and the Mercury. He could tell they must have been bad...if he’d have made a word cloud the latest would be ‘Redacted’. He’d ask him about it one day...but now wasn’ the time to open up old wounds while the new ones were still healing. Kells: (quietly) I know. Brodie: Like I say - we’re not there. I guess what I’m saying is I do trust you...and you need to trust me. We’ve both got your well-being, and that of the crew, at the top of our agenda. I’ll just say - don’t suffer in silence, it isn’t worth it. Kells: I can promise that I won’t. Which sounded as though he wouldn’t, but that isn’t what Aron had meant. He appreciated Brodie’s presence, and the fact that he had a staff of counselors at all spoke to the fact that Starfleet valued the mental health of all their officers. Brodie was on the bridge, too, with the rest of the bridge crew and (not incidentally) most of the senior staff, and Aron knew that the placement wasn’t simply coincidental. Brodie: The door is always open - nothing is too trivial and no hour is too late or too early. Like you say, you need support - and I’m here to provide it. Kells: I’ll take you up on that. (beat, then seriously) I know that you wouldn’t hesitate to act in the best interest of the crew. I hope that I wouldn’t, either, if I was compromised. But having your assessment is still -- reassuring. Brodie: ::Alex widened his arms:: Reassurance is just one of the many services we offer down on Deck Ten. Aron took a deep breath, which he let out in a short sigh. Kells: As soon as we’ve completed this current mission, I’ll want to meet again, and more frequently. Brodie: And I’d be happy to oblige, or if not me then one of my colleagues. He was thinking of Salo although given he was the chief counsellor and any ultimate decision to make changes to a flag officers duty would be scrutinised heavily he would be aiming to manage this one personally. Kells: Of course. And feel free to shuffle me around to your colleagues. I know you have plenty of other patients. Aron frowned slightly. Was that the right word? Was he a patient at that moment, and would he no longer be when he and Brodie left the ready room? He wasn’t sure, but he also wasn’t sure what else he might call himself in the moment -- a client, a customer? No, everything else sounded wrong. Alex had worked in medical care, where they tended to be patients. Research, where they were called participants. Private practice, where they tended to be clients. Alongside FedSec, where they tended to be called convicts….and once at a dabo tournament, where they were called competitors. Personally he always prefered client. They were availing themselves of his services and he was there to service their needs...a humble servant. Did that make them masters? Counsellee...was that even a word? He snapped back from whatever thought he was having...Kells appeared to be the same. Brodie: Well ::Standing up:: I suppose I should track down Deena and Elandra and assemble the continency committee. Rest assured, Captain, we’ll be ready for whatever awaits us. Kells: (slight smile) I know that, too. Brodie: As I said, the door is always open. Kells: I’ll take advantage of it, believe me. Aron stood as well, and offered his hand. He had been a patient -- or client -- a few moments ago, but with the appointment finished, he needed to become the ship’s CO. He slipped back into the role as if he was donning a comfortable old shirt. Kells: Keep me apprised of your progress, Commander. If I’m unavailable, Commander Garcia has the conn. Brodie: Aye Sir, I’ll let you know as soon as preparations are complete. Although, as he left, he did wonder exactly what they were preparing for. END Simmed By Fleet Captain Aron Kells Commanding Officer USS Thor V238208LV0 & Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 Writer ID.: A239005BM0 ------------------------------------
  7. @Alex Brodie has really been kicking out quality sims lately. Another great one, and I just love the symbolism. ((Arboretum, Deck Five, USS Thor)) Alex wiped his brow, smearing dirt across it as he did so. There were dozens - probably dozens of dozens - of trees already in the Arboretum but this was something a little more special. He had been hoping that it would have arrived during the repairs and refit of the vessel at Deep Space Nine but that was not to be. Now the next supply chain had caught up with them he was finally able to make this small gesture. When people said the word Thor they were instantly greeted with mental images of the ancient Norse god of thunder, storms and all-round hammer enthusiast. There was, however, a deeper meaning. The ship's dedication plaque read: “Borders? I have never seen one. But I have heard they exist in the minds of some people.” This was a quotation attributed to Thor Heyerdahl – an explorer from Norway who was alive in the twentieth century. Not only was he an explorer but he also had a background in zoology, botany and geography and his most notable expedition was to show that ancient peoples could have made long sea voyages across the earth creating contacts between different societies. He had also searched, on four separate occasions it should be noted, for the civilization he believed Odin had been part of – although this was never validated. In short, it was possibly the most apt name for the Vesta class multi-mission explorer. The similarities didn’t stop there, however, as both of the ships long range Arrow class runabouts were also named after reed boats that Heyerdahl had constructed as part of his adventures – the Ra and the Tigris. Brodie wanted to honour these two worlds in some small way after the Hammerfall Incident and, while exploration, zoology and geography were all worthy causes, he had chosen to focus on botany. The pushed, with some assistance from the operations team, the large root cluster of the tree over the edge of the hole and into the soil that filled the arboretum. It always amazed him just how much weight the ship could take…when he thought about runabouts and fighters and cargo he was surprised the ship didn’t fall out of orbit. The team he’d been working with picked their shovels back up and began to refill the area around the roots of the Ash tree. It wasn’t mighty just yet – nor was he sure it would ever be so in these artificial surroundings – but it was a gesture that he felt was required. The ‘Vikings’ of the USS Thor, of which Brodie being of Scottish ancestry was probably the closest actual Viking they had, were a tight knit crew who had been through a lot. Key high/low-lights had included kidnappings, attempted assassinations, political intrigues, discovery of new species and the near destruction of their home but they had come through it all – life had found a way. That's what this ‘mighty’ ash tree was – Yggdrasil…at least symbolically. Sometimes called the Tree of Life he actually thought the names translated as ‘Odin’s Horse’ but more in the sense of a gallows or a frame to support everything around it. Odin’s actual horse being an eight-legged beast called Sleipnir. Alex shuddered at the thought of trying to break a creature like that – but if you were a god… That, however, was beside the point. The crew of the USS Thor were not only the worlds, but they were also the gallows. They individuals who supported and protected each other – at this ash tree would stand as a symbol of that. He pushed the small brass plaque into the sod at the foot of the tree: may the crew of the Thor find comfort in it’s shade and strength in its branches. FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0
  8. A JP between one of our newer members @Brutus and a well established member @Sirok that I thoroughly enjoyed. ((USS Ra - Leaving DS9)) The orders for Ensign Jehe were not the most usual. Picking up a civilian from DS9 to take him to New Bajor. Her passenger was an old Vulcan. The man even used a cane, denoting that despite all the Federation's medical advances time reaches everyone, even the long-lived Vulcans. He wore a simple tunic, but the fabric and the small embroidery he wore with words in Vulcan denoted a great quality in his craftsmanship. He presented himself simply as Sobok and his speech, though monotone, was not as uncomfortable and flat as that of other Vulcans. Jehe Saja had encountered a few Vulcans during her time at the Academy, and had found the species, as a whole, to be somewhat the opposite of her own. Bajorans were often known for fiery tempers and Vulcans kept a close reign on their emotions, tighter than any other species she had met to date. But at the same time, she’d seen glimpses of Vulcan spiritualism, that allowed her to believe that perhaps, they weren’t so different as she might like. Thus, when facing the elder Vulcan who would accompany her to her new posting, she greeted the opportunity as just that: an opportunity. She had kept her own introductions just as brief,as she’d resisted the urge to adjust the black collar of her uniform, denoting her position within the auspices of Starfleet Intelligence. He asked Jehe to take his things inside the Runaboat, so that he could walk more easily. Once they started the trip the Vulcan did not go to the living area, but chose the co-pilot's seat. He left his cane on the chair and relaxed his arms on the armrests. He didn't say anything, his gaze reminded him of a Starfleet flight instructor. Every time Jehe introduced a command into the console the man seemed to judge every little decision, or it was simply the severe look of a Vulcan, even though he had no eyebrows. Sobok: I know that on the new maneuver thrusters it is less necessary but if you adjust the ... :: He brought one of his hands close to the panel and quickly introduced several adjustments to the maneuvering drive, but without executing them. :: But you are the pilot today. Jehe: oO Well, looks like I am learning something today Oo Jehe: Thank you, sir. ::She reached forward, re-entering the commands herself, so that she would be familiar with them, and punched the execution:: While I have shuttle pilot training, it’s not my primary vocation. Sobok: You can always learn more. And in Starfleet, getting as much knowledge as possible will help you better accomplish your mission. Even if you think it is not your specialty. Many officers are pigeonholed in their department rather than trying to be more complete. The man looked again into the blackness of space, trying to find with his eyes the place where the wormhole should open. Jehe: You sound like you speak from experience. Even as she spoke, Saja readjusted the approach of the runabout. She’d not been told anything about her passenger really, other than that he was seeking transport to New Bajor, and as she was going to her own assignment in orbit of that planet, she was tagged to escort him. She hardly minded, and in truth was working harder to repress her own near giddiness at getting to enter the Celestial Temple. After a small lapse of time the ship crossed the space that separated the station from the wormhole. Illuminating everything with a blue light. Sobok:Ensign, do you believe that prophets are gods? The question, though abrupt, was asked in the same instructive tone he had had moments before. For a long moment, the Bajoran did not respond, as the ship made its way closer to the aperture, to be guided into the swirling light. Saja forced herself to breathe and nodded her head, though she did not allow herself to look away. Jehe: I do, yes. At least, they meet most definitions of ‘gods’ that I have heard, and have been demonstrably active in the history of my people. ::She tilted her head and chuckled softly:: And my father is a Prylar. I’d be a rather poor daughter if I did not believe in the Prophets. Sobok: Interesting. :: He simply said, without trying to change the Bajoran's mind. The bushy haired intelligence officer nodded, and drew her attention back to her console as the runabout gave a shudder. They were approaching the event horizon of the wormhole, and Saja had to make some minor adjustments. Jehe: Compensating for spatial drift. I’m told the ride will be a bit bumpy. She didn’t outright say ‘maybe you should strap in’ but she thought it pretty hard. Sobok:Try to give some more energy to the inertial dampers, there has to be a configuration for the wormhole. ((USS Ra - Entering Bajoran Wormhole)) And then, they were inside the Celestial Temple, and it was all that Saja could do not to gape like a fish. As Sobok switched his gaze between the view from the front window and the instrument panels. Sobok:Is this the first time you travel through the wormhole? ::Sobok did not know if the runoboat came from the Thor, or if it came directly from DS9.:: Jehe: Yessir. Though I grew up on Freehaven, one of the Bajoran colonies, I’ve never had the chance to experience this before. ::She had made the adjustments suggested and the flight evened out, as her head slowly turned side to side, taking in the truly alien vista before them:: And you? Sobok: No, although I had a first officer. Rashur Sul, who often insisted that we try to get closer. But Bajor and the Wormhole was far from our area of operation. It is certainly an interesting experience. The Vulcan was slightly incorporated and carefully observed the data on the console. Alternating with the immensity of blue before them. Sobok: Soon after, the war with the Klingons began and immediately after with the Dominion. She was no longer my first officer after that. Jehe: I didn’t realize you served. I apologize. They didn’t really brief me on my passenger. ::She frowned for a moment.:: I was born during the conflict. I can’t say that I remember much of it at all, just stories from my family. The ship finished its transit through the wormhole. The interior of the ship was once again illuminated only by its own light. In the pilot’s seat, Saja began a series of system checks to confirm that there had been no issues with the runabout. Her pulse was still racing from the trip through the Temple. It had been magnificent - even if only only looked at it from a purely secular viewpoint. Sobok: It was interesting. The old vulcan took his cane and with the help of it and the armrest he stood up. Sobok: Do you need help for the rest of the trip? Otherwise I will try to rest a little. I have a lot to do in the New Bajor. Jehe: I should be fine sir. Please, take all the rest you need. I’ll notify you when we’re on our final approach. The old Vulcan nodded in what might have seemed like gratitude. But to nod was to show a feeling, he had simply nodded to imply that he understood what the ensign had said. True, the old Vulcan knew that some people confused the two facts. And that begins guided by their feelings felt better in the presence of such emotional displays. So the old Vulcan did not take them out of their error. The ship traveled for a few hours in warp until it reached New Bajor. Following standard procedure it went to impulse as it approached the system. From space, it could still see some ravages caused by the blight. Although some improvement was already visible since the arrival of Thor. The Ra continued to approach the planet's orbit, but on its trajectory it passed near its mother ship, the Thor. Illuminated by the planet, it shone with its characteristic blue color of its hull and its slender form. Sobok observed it from one of the windows when they passed near it. The Vulcan returned to the command module. Sobok: I have loaded the coordinates of my meeting point on the transporter, Ensign. Your mission is over. Jehe: Very well, sir. ::She rose to accompany him to the transporter pad.:: If you’ll step up here. Sobok: Live long and prosper, Jehe Saja. :: He said by raising his hand and making the characteristic greeting of his culture. :: Energize. Jehe: ::Carefully approximating the gestures:: Peace and Long Life, Sobok. Lowering her hands, she activated the transporter sequence and watched as the eldarly Vulcan whom ahd been her passenger for the duration of the trip vanished in the familiar swirl of blue white motes, leaving behind an empty pad. Jehe: oO I hope he finds what he was looking for. Oo With that, she returned to the conn and adjusted her course to take the runabout to it - and her - new home. ========================================= Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S1 & Ens. Jehe Saja Intelligence Officer USS Thor T239712JS0
  9. I'm blown away by the amount of talented writers we have in this community, and I considered myself blessed that I have the opportunity to write on not one, but TWO ships where I get to read these wonderful stories by these fantastic writers. This is the beginning of the Thor's next mission. What a way to introduce it! ((Management & Oversight Center - Endless Golden Penetrator)) Lounging imperiously upon a shimmering technological throne, Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc, Owner of the Endless Golden Penetrator, was in a fit of pique. It was now a foregone conclusion he was going to die. He huffed in mild annoyance at what a terribly embarrassing inconvenience this would be for him and his entire organization. Running a hand along his exquisitely crafted suit of clothes, Anroc experienced a brief sartorial joy at the feel of the luxurious silken garments, but it was fleeting. With six eyes, he took in the meticulously appointed command deck, built to his exacting specifications and ostentatious personal tastes. Priceless objet d'art and sumptuous glowmarble inlay had cost millions of credits, and the ship had cost hundreds of billions more. All for another humiliating public failure that was likely to impact their net worth substantially when the annual fiscal picture was reviewed. The fact that eleven hundred and sixty three crewmen and women would die alongside him trapped aboard a crippled ship, stranded at the Edge with no hope of rescue, hadn’t crossed his mind. They were only ephemerals, afterall. Sooner or later, they always died. The larger nuisance would be the staffing issues following this loss of “biological capital,” but the possibility had been considered prior to their mission and the corporation would begin acting on those contingencies soon. From a meticulously handcrafted songwood side table, Anroc lifted a livecrystal goblet that hummed soothingly in response to the warmth of his strong, 3 fingered hand. Filling it with a dram of liquor that would cost the average worker their life savings to acquire, Anroc paused and then, feeling entirely sorry for himself, he poured two more drams. He was going to die today, after all. He tisked to himself as the throne continued its work. Such a nuisance. One of the senior crew ephemerals, Nenni Nokzu, moved towards the dais of the Shipmaster with a bowed head and short, hesitant steps. When Anroc’s drink was agreeably warming his pallet a few minutes later, he turned his head ever so slightly and gave the faintest sign of contemptuous acknowledgement. Nokzu: Shipmaster, if it pleases you... Anroc snapped back at the woman with a combination of boredom and venom. He didn’t bother making eye contact with someone so far beneath him. Anroc: It most certainly does not. If I must suffer this annoyance, you could at least address me using my proper title. ::Anroc was immediately disgusted, his mood souring further:: You do know my full and proper title, of course? Nokzu kept her pale head bowed low and racked her brain. The journey had taken six years just to get where they were at now, and in that whole time serving as the first officer, she’d always stumbled over the long string of namesakes. Speaking slowly to give herself more time, Nokzu worked through it out loud. Nokzu: Owner and Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting… She was pretty sure she’d missed a word in there somewhere. This man was their doom and she couldn’t even appease him at the most basic level. When he didn’t immediately chastise her however, Nokzu decided to press on. aswq Nokzu: … The matter displacement array is completely destroyed. Two of the crew were killed trying to effect the repairs, but it’s a lost cause. With her head low, she winced at the thought to the pair of engineers who had been killed. The chitinous plates on her back shifted slightly like a cat twitching it’s fur. They’d been good men. Friends. Nokkzu: The same impact that destroyed it also damaged the fuel storage. We’re losing fuel and we’ll have no way to decelerate when we reach the Edge. The mission is doomed, shipmaster. Anroc took in this catastrophic declaration with the air of a man who had lost his third favorite hat. Anroc: Ah, so no hope at all then? Such a waste. ::Anroc refilled his glass, this time to capacity. Gesturing towards the half empty crystal decanter, Anroc tried to speak slowly, annunciating each word so even the dimmest ephemeral could understand:: This bottle alone is worth more than a hundred of you, and I have a case in my suites - a splendid gift from my ninth mistress. What am I to tell him? That I simply abandoned his lovely token? A sour taste filled Nokzu’s mouth. Outrage swelled in her chest. She had two children back home. After the briefest moment however, her outrage dissipated. It was a skill she’d honed over decades of serving the deathless, and one of the reasons she’d been hand selected for this mission. Nokzu: There is a small planetoid a week away. We could land on it before the fuel runs out. From there, if we radio the homeworld for assistance, in a decade or two we might be rescu... Anroc rose to his full three meter height in instant fury. Anroc: A distress signal?! Do you have any idea how humiliating it would be for the corporation to have the media rebroadcasting a pathetic cry for help from what was supposed to be our shining triumph? You’ve already failed to take this ship beyond the Edge, don’t compound your mistake with another, or I’ll see to it you’ll never be employed again! That was it. Her last hope. Even traveling at the speed of light it’d take their message nearly five years to reach home, and then six more for another ship to reach theirs. That all hinged on the Shipmaster’s willingness to send the message though. Now, that hope was gone, as was her chance of ever seeing her children again. Employment be damned, Nokzu welled up with anger again, but this time she failed to push it back down. In defiance she rose to her two and half meter height, Anroc still towering over her. Nokzu: (Raising her slender head and locking all six eyes on Anroc) I’ll never be employed again as it is Shipmaster! This ship will be my tomb! Anroc could see the flair of defiance behind the ephemerals eyes and moved to snuff it out instantly. This one had clearly forgotten themselves, and Anroc suspected being away from home for so long had eroded its weak, simple mind. Anroc: Don’t use that insolent tone with me you loathsome chattel! If you’re dead, I’ll make certain no one in your family ever works, no matter what barren airless asteroid farm they run to. Your children will be eating vermin by the end of the year...if they’re fortunate! Fire flashed in her eyes. Indignation, outrage, and fury roiled within Nokzu’s chest. For a time she maintained eye contact until she finally acknowledged the truth behind his words. Her life may be lost, but Nokzu could still help the future of her children. Nokzu: I apologize for my… insolence Shipmaster. You know how us… ephemerals can be. What are your orders for the ship? The moment passed but Anroc could still smell a grotesque, lingering musk of pheromones - not only from Nokzu, but now from some of the other ephemerals on the bridge. The bitter scents of desperation and rage muddled up with the awful pungent aroma of insolence. Around him, the throne had begun to glow a shimmering green and a faint twinkling hum was filling the command deck. It was nearly time. Anroc finished the last of his drink, some small pleasure salvaged from the otherwise disappointing day. Anroc: I don’t particularly care what you do at this point, but if you send that distress call and the corporation hears of it, I promise that death is the least terrible thing you have to worry about. With that, Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc stabbed at a jewel encrusted control on the throne's arm. The glow within the throne intensified until it was nearly blinding, then snapped out all at once. Anroc’s body, still rigid and imperious upon the throne, was vacant and dead. The light behind all six of his eyes had been extinguished. His exquisite clothing and priceless jewelry were now macabre ornaments on a rapidly cooling corpse. Nokzu: (Mumbling) Good riddance you skel’echt. Nokzu shoved the body of the ageless corpse off the mantle and pushed it to the side. She’d deal with it later. Taking a seat in the throne herself, the woman massaged the small horns on the back of her head as she contemplated what to do. The sound of a door opening made her look up as a colleague entered the command deck. The woman’s clothes were stained and had some small tears. Exhaustion could be seen on her face. Saulan: The breach on deck 23 is getting worse. They are trying to reinforce it but they don't know how much it will hold. Nokzu: Anroc is gone. Everything on this ship has already been written off as a loss for the corp. We’re on our own now. She leaned back in the massive and ornamented chair, the weight of her decisions now bearing down on her. Nokzu’s eyes flicked over the room as the rest of the command crew watched her. They all had families back home. She’d met many of them before they left so many years ago. Nokzu counted in her head and the numbers came easily to her as the welfare of each member of the crew was her responsibility. 897 widows, 142 orphans. That was the fallout of this ship not returning. Finally she turned back toward the engineer, a renewed strength filling her. Nokzu: Helm, set a course for planetoid Sigma 438, full burn. (Turning to the other side of the room) Operations, start calculating the fuel cost for our deceleration burn and landing on that rock. I need to know that we’ve got enough to make it. Turning back to the engineer, Nokzu blinked, not wanting to say what she had to. Nokzu: Saulan, if we lose too much fuel we’ll die for sure. We must seal that breach at all costs. At all costs. Do you understand? Saulan: They do their best. But I will try... to encourage them. :: His voice was tired and became more sinister at the end of the sentence. :: Nokzu: One more thing, old friend. It would take years for a message to get back to the homeworld. I know you’ve been working with radios your whole life. Is there anything you can do to get that signal out faster? Saulan: There is a theory, that by focusing a signal at a certain frequency in line with the Edge emissions can be accelerated. Although we do not fully understand how. The problem is that it would have to be focused on, and hopefully bounce back to the home planet. Nokzu: We’ve got nothing else to lose. Try. It’s our only hope we have to see our families again. Saulan: I will configure the emitter. Give me a moment. Before the disaster Saulan would be excited to try something like this. If it worked, her name could be on the patent, and she could find a comfortable position in the organization's colleges. Now it was a simple act of desperation. Saulan sat at the communications console and was reconfiguring the emitter matrix to do what they wanted. He had to stop a couple of times to talk to the executive section chief of rapid maintenance, so that they could repair the breach. Nokzu watched the man work for a moment before turning back toward the rest of the bridge crew. They’d heard the exchange with Anroc. They all understood the cost of calling out for help. Nokzu turned the decision over in her mind several times and for a couple of minutes they all worked in silence. A silence she finally broke. Nokzu: As soon as you’re ready, Saulan, send the distress call. Saulan: Ready. Sending the signal. There, trapped by the manyfold intersecting layers of nebular gasses and exotic subspace fields, The Endless Golden Penetrator shouted past the Edge of known space. No one knew what lay beyond the Edge, and all expeditions to penetrate it over the millennia had come to the same inglorious end. As the Penetrator sent out its desperate call for an unlikely rescue, the fields of the nebula briefly attenuated and massively amplified the signal. Distorted but intact, the message tumbled through subspace, echoing far beyond the Edge and outward, into a region of space that Federation astronomers would call ‘The Gamma Quadrant.’ [Fin] ========================== Shipmaster Pitorian Sal’Lat’Ut’Kel’Tras Anroc Owner & Guildmaster Extraordinary, First Eternal, President for Life of the Saldanian Corporate Hegemony, Beloved & Benevolent, Everlasting & Magnificent V239509GT0 & Nenni Chu’To’Lem’Ri Nokzu Acting Shipmaster Endless Golden Penetrator E239702WG0 & Saulan Ket’han Deputy Director of Daily Operations Endless Golden Penetrator E239702S10 =========================
  10. Where we get to see a bit more of Sobok as well as our beloved Chief Engineer, @Sirok. The title itself just conveys a lot, and I love it. ((USS Thor, Main Engineering)) Several crew members performed their usual tasks of inspection and maintenance of the different systems. They were illuminated by the blue light of the bending engine that emitted its characteristic hum, which reached the whole ship. The chief engineer worked on the holographic table, visualizing the data from the ship's systems. Checking for any irregularities. For some it would be a tedious job, for Sirok it was an opportunity to be methodical, to sort out his own thoughts while taking care of the ship's own systems. His concentration was interrupted by the sound of the communicator. Larell: =/\=Lieutenant, a civilian has arrived from New Bajor, he says he wants to see you. He says his name is Sobok. =/\= Sirok looked away from the holographic table , just before turning it off. Sirok: =/\=On my way. =/\= Larell: =/\=Understood. =/\= ((USS Thor, Transporter room 1)) Sirok entered the transporter room. And he found Larell talking to a very old Vulcan. His complexion was dark and hairless, even in his eyebrows. His back was already slightly crooked and he was wearing a traditional light-colored robe that was very well made. He supported part of his weight on a simple black cane. Larell: With this type of coils we improve the stability of the transporter buffer. ::She happily explained to the hieratic Vulcan, who listened to her carefully. :: Sirok: Live long and prosper, Sobok :: He said it in standard in deference to Larell. :: The old Vulcan turned around, excusing himself with his hand to Larell because he could no longer hear his explanation. Sobok: Live long and prosper... :: Sobok looked at the engineer's neck. :: Liutenant Sirok. Sirok: I was not expecting his visit, although he is welcome. Miss Larell, do you know if he has any assigned quarters? :: Since Teller decided to call him Chief Sirok, he avoided using ranks with his NCOs to avoid confusion, not out of disrespect. :: Larell: Ehm, yes sir. ::The young Boslic woman approached her console. :: One of the quarters on deck 13. We have already sent his luggage there, would you like someone to call to accompany him? Sirok: No Miss Larell, I will do it. ::He looked her straight in the eye. ::Good job. Larell: Thank you, sir. :: He responded with a slightly disconcerting tone. :: Sobok attended the conversation without saying anything, calmly observing how the two Thor crew members behaved. Sirok: I will show you your quarters, come with me. Sobok nodded and started to walk towards the door, stopping for a moment in front of the transporter chief. Sobok: That was a great explanation, Larell. I expect we will meet again. :: In spite of the monochordic tone of voice, it seemed to have a certain warmth. :: After his farewell, he walked leaning on his cane in the direction of the door, following the engineer. Sirok was waiting for him in his usual hieratic posture, when Sobok arrived where he was, he began the march towards the turbolift. Sobok: I see you trying to use my advice to deal with beings driven by their feelings. Sirok: I try to do it but it is not always successful. Larell is an example, I have been told that they must get used to my leadership style. Sobok: This is partly true, but we cannot impose logic on them. For many of them their minds are not able to function as they should. They are attached to their feelings. So to function well, as officers we must adapt. Satisfy them to their feelings so that they give the best of themselves. Sirok: It is not like lying? Sobok: Acting, not lying. It is part of your job as an officer. If you were a technician and only dealt with the machine or enjoyed a crew that entirely followed logic, it would not be necessary, but part of your job is to make them work well, as a team. Authority helps, but it is not the only way. They both walked through the corridors, occasionally crossing with some crew member, surprised to see an old Vulcan walking with the robotic chief engineer. Sobok: You have been promoting very fast, more than I have in my day. So you will have to adapt faster than I did. But if you have made it this far at this speed, you can do it. I have heard about your Captain, he is a reputable man, many officers who have served under him have had brilliant careers. You can trust his judgment. Sirok nodded as they entered the turbolift, Sobok had been a Captain for many, many years, making him a reliable source. Sirok: Deck 13. May I ask what you do in the Gamma Quadrant? Sobok: I try to help your father establish new business deals to get more resources for the Romulan colonies in Vulcan. They said there were opportunities on New Bajor, but as you know, there are not. Sirok: Unfortunately, they are a clear example of why Surak's teachings are so important. :: He knew that their experience might not be a sufficient sample of all of New Bajor, but given the problems they had had it did not seem very misguided. ::But that does not explain why you have boarded the Thor. Sobok: I know its new direction and it is close to where I have to go. In addition I can update my knowledge and of course, know your status first hand. Sirok: That last was not necessary. The turbolift doors opened, revealing the corridor on deck 13. Sobok: On the contrary. Wisely, you ask for my advice because of my experience, but to give accurate advice I must know the context, which variables affect a situation. No matter how much you try to describe it, it is not the same as experiencing it, the same reason we explore space in person, we do not just send a probe. Sirok could not argue with Sobok's logic. They continued to walk to the rhythm of old Vulcan. Sirok: The head doctor is Vulcan, Doctor Alieth, maybe she can do something for your hip. Sobok: It is already more mechanical than biological, but you still cannot fight time. But it is true that every doctor believes he has the ultimate solution to a particular problem, if she wants to see me I will not stop her. They arrived at the quarters' door, which opened when they detected Sobok's bio-signal, for which it had already been configured. Sobok stood at the door and watched. Sobok: I would almost have preferred a smaller quarters, this is almost three times the size of the Captain's cabin in an Excelsior class. Excessive for my needs. Sirok: Is a standard guest cabin in a Vesta class. And it is unoccupied, if necessary for some personality surely the Captain would appreciate your willingness to change to another quarter. Sobok nodded, agreeing with the young engineer and went into the room. The quarters were mainly illuminated by the light of the star bouncing off the surface of New Bajor. It was a large room, with a small living room, a work table and not visible from the entrance was the bedroom and bathroom. Sobok: I am tired, I have had many meetings in New Bajor. But during the trip we must resume some conversation. Sirok: I am learning to meditate better and better, it will not be necessary. Sobok: Your life depends on it. And you begin to be a respected Starfleet officer. Something can be done. In any case, we will not discuss it today. Let me rest. See you tomorrow, Sirok. Sirok: See you tomorrow, grandfather. ((End Scene for Sirok)) -- ==================== Lieutenant Sirok Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10
  11. I've been waiting eagerly for the final installment of this series of sims by the Thor's own @Alex Brodie, and he did not disappoint. He really knows how to engage the reader and I can really relate not only to his main character, Brodie, but to all the others he writes into the story. Well done! IC: ((USS Loki, Approaching Moon ‘Solace’)) Alex woke as the sensors chimed denoting his arrival at a safe distance – he hoped the situation on the ground would be better than what he was looking at on the monitor. He stretched from his seat and walked back to the replicator – keying in a few commands. Brodie: White coffee, Sumatran blend. It was strange. The horrific scenes in the slipstream had shown the very best in people, the political intrigues on New Bajor had shown the very worst. Everything seemed a little upside-down. The mug materialised in the opening and the smell filled the air. It had been a few day’s journey but now he was on this side of the wormhole it was simply a chance he couldn’t not take, although it might be the last chance he took. It had taken a while to get the appropriate permissions and authorisations but here he was...the console cut through the silence as he sipped his drink. LCARS: Warning. Target lock acquired. He hopped forwards and opened a comm. channel to the satellite that had targeted the Loki. His fingers skittered across the console as he input the authorization codes for the system. Only a handful of people had them and, as soon as they were transmitted, he erased them from the ship’s logs. Some things were just too risky to let out. The shuttle slipped between the gap in the orbital net and began its descent to the surface. He wondered what he would find there? He’d read the reports but a lot can change in nearly two decades…although in some ways a great many things would have stayed the same. The first thing that struck him, as the cloud cover broke, was the landing pad – so far, a good sign. He had rather expected a flattened piece to rough ground but it seemed there were elements of infrastructure. He didn’t think that there would have been many visitors to this area. The Loki touched down as gently as he could manage – having not landed a shuttle since the academy…and even then, only a handful of times. He opened the munitions locker and took one of the protective vests from inside and slipped it around his chest, pulling the straps tight. He didn’t like them but this was certainly a place where it was better to be safe than sorry. He pulled his field jacket over his shoulders and opened the door, lowering the exit ramp. It was a bright but cold day and the sun was low. He could just make out the figure walking towards him – unassuming, relaxed, like they had all the time in the world – which they did. Alex allowed himself some butterflies at the thought of what to say – it was a refreshing feeling - before deciding to keep it formal. He bowed slightly in greeting. Brodie: Eminence. ((Zone Of Mediation, Solace)) Alex awoke early as the sun blinkered through the window, dappled by the trees. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from a prison – but it wasn’t this. The door wasn’t locked and, after having dressed, he walked down the corridor towards a communal room that had been set aside. As he walked in some heads turned…but not many and, as he saw the faces, there were more expressions of confusion and…was that a little fear. He smiled, though not openly, from what he’d heard about the Ennis and Nol-Ennis but he hadn’t expected them to appear so…alike. It reminded him of an old song ‘One Tin Soldier’ the mountain and the valley people fighting over a supposed treasure – and all the pain that brought. He wondered if the two factions even recalled what they were even fighting over? He took some fruit and a bowl of what tasted like sugared oats and took a seat at the rear of the room – not deliberately watching but making sure he had everyone in his field of vision. This place was still a prison and if anything happened to him here then…well…he’d be stuck there. He wouldn’t mind so much but Garcia would certainly want to get the Loki back. It was a testament to the work that had been going on here that they were able to mix so freely and without incident, although he was led to believe that not everyone shared or appreciated the attempt at a more peaceful philosophy. That said, it was still standing nearly two decades later…but then what would they do…kill them? He wondered about this place, a planetary prison – a prison without bars; although it did have a sophisticated satellite defence system. He certainly appreciated the intention towards punishment but this was akin to torture. The violence was playing out, and perhaps – at first, there was a revelry on each side flying into an eternal battle with no sense of one’s own mortality. It seemed oddly Klingon – perhaps similar to Sto-vo-kor; he was unlikely to ever find out. There was a further fleeting thought, he wondered how Hannibal was getting on in his quest for the next battle? Back to the problem at hand, that was all well and good – teaching them that conflict was futile, a cycle doomed to repeat itself over and over until the end of time. And that was the issue, it never ended. How could there be any justice in this? There was no final punishment nor was there any chance at rehabilitation – the two peoples pushed aside as an inconvenience. Their people couldn’t reconcile them so they were shut away in this endless purgatory. Out of sight and out of mind…but it didn’t solve the problem. All that changed when she arrived though. It was odd that yet another death might be the start of something more progressive – they couldn’t leave, but perhaps they could grow. Perhaps they could find some sort of redemption…or maybe that was all wishful thinking? A bell tolled and the hall began to empty, their day had begun. He sat alone for a moment and then looked across the room to where Her Eminence now occupied the doorway, her eyes more alive than his – he hadn’t been able to find anything remotely resembling coffee. He stood in greeting. Sulan: Commander, good morning. Brodie: Good morning, Eminence Sulan: Please…there’s no need for formalities. Come, walk with me. It wasn’t a command, but strangely he didn’t feel anyone would ever refuse. It was simply a statement of how things were. The planet was still barren in the most part. The two walked along one of the paths that overlooked what had once been a battlefield but now was showing the literal green shoots of recovery as farmland – not that food was required but it gave structure and allowed cultivation of a less war-torn scenery. A group approached and nodded in greeting at his companion – standing little taller as they passed. Sulan: I’m not a leader, you know? Brodie: I think some of these people would beg to differ. Sulan: I brought a new perspective to this place…that was all…an alternative path. I can’t make anyone walk it, but I will assist any who wish to, or those who choose another. I’ve already seen enough violence to last a lifetime; even one as extended as mine. He'd thought about that already. He had read some of the reports but they were scant on detail – all he knew was they couldn’t leave. Brodie: Have you considered those who may wish to leave. You say it is no longer a prison but the satellite grid I came through would beg to differ. What of those who choose to end their lives by leaving - the Federation may be able to assist with that. The woman regarded him slowly, her expression slightly confused but still cheerful. Sulan: Would that not be a violation of the culture of this world though, Commander? She was right of course; the world had been designed to be a prison - by another culture. While they were aware of the galaxy out with their borders they were not, themselves, warp capable – at least not any more…the Prime Directive applied…at least at his level of authority. Brodie: I appreciate your point, Eminence, although I would say that does not sit well with my desire to provide care and ease suffering. Sulan: Who says anyone is suffering? Perhaps once, and perhaps some still, but when you have all the time then is anything truly a constant state? Brodie: I would not have been surprised if Sulan: Life is what you make of it, Commander…and when you have all the time in the world you can make of it whatever you want. Suddenly Brodie realised the point the woman was making. It wasn’t that time was never ending – it was the realisation that time simply did not apply. Time was still linear for the inhabitants of this world but without the restriction of being finite it didn’t matter – and that brought a freedom that he had a hard time comprehending. Brodie: So…you’re saying being bound here has made them free? Psychologically speaking I mean. Sulan: They always were, Commander, they just had to realise it. Now some have also realised they are not bound to keep fighting a futile war – they don’t have to be confined by their past. He thought on his own years…how true that was. Brodie: In that case I’d say they’re lucky to have you…not leading them on this path. She smiled. ((Landing Site, Solace, Gamma Quadrant)) All good things had to come to an end and, while this had been a short visit to this world it had felt longer than it was. He wondered if that was just a feeling he had or if it was another factor of the prison’s original design – which would have been especially cruel. Alex dropped his kit bag into the shuttle and returned to where his host was standing. Brodie: Thank you, Eminence, for your hospitality. This isn’t strictly allowed but I will ask, do you have any messages I can pass on to anyone. He had worried that thinking of a life past Sulan: No Commander, my son is gone, and I have no other blood family…looking back I wonder if I was already past my time. There was one thing I wanted to ask you, you mentioned there is a Bajoran colony on this side of the Celestial Temple? Brodie: That’s right, New Bajor. It would have been established not long after your arrival here. The Dominion destroyed it’s first incarnation, but it’s been re-established now. Sulan: So many now feel the touch of the Prophets in the Celestial Temple as I did? Brodie: Some, although perhaps not all appreciate the significance in the same way you did. Sulan: And the colony is well? Alex hesitated…he wondered if she’d been reading his draft mission report behind his back. He opted for something that was true…from a certain point of view. Brodie: It is – Governor Velos is an excellent administrator who cares deeply for her people. You’d be very proud. She reached up slightly and cupped his ear - checking his Pah. He allowed it, he was fairly sure after his time here he wasn’t in any danger in her company. Sulan: Your Pah is strong but…::unsure::…there is a darkness there, Commander… She was correct of course…there were more than a few shadows lurking in his past. Like those here, however, he’d been able to change his destiny – to some extent. Brodie: They’re a defence mechanism – of sorts. One must always guard against the darker side of one’s self, and that means you must acknowledge your own. Sulan: Just take caution not to become it…I have seen the damage a corrupted Pah can bring first-hand. Alex thought of Samara and her past, there were true horrors in the occupation – and beyond. Though he’d seen plenty of his own, both professionally and personally, he still heeded the caution in her words. Brodie: I believe there’s more good than bad in the universe, Eminence, besides the light shines brighter in the darkness. The sound of the comm sounding alerted him that the start-up routine on the shuttle was complete. It was time to go. Brodie: Farewell eminence, I would say stay safe but I’m not sure that applies here. ::He bowed slightly:: Prophets be with you and the blessings of Bajor be with you. Sulan: And also with you, Commander. He returned to the shuttle and began his accent…it all felt like some surreal dream until he encountered the perimeter in the low orbit. Keying in a few strokes, he set a course for the rendezvous with the Thor. FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualitygamer@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0
  12. OOC: I've really enjoyed exploring the line between the serious side of Teller's character against his more jokey nature, and Alieth has been an absolute pleasure to write with. It's also allowed me to revisit some of Teller's early antics and the impact other officers have had on him. Been a real pleasure - thanks @Alieth! =========================================== ((XO's office, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Alieth: Sir... I am truly sorry for what happened. And I will strive not to disgrace this uniform again... nor the ideas and people it represents. Commander teller nodded gravely,the brief smile that had brightened up his features, gone. Teller: See that you don't, Lieutenant. I'm a firm believer in second chances. Not third chances. Understood? Geoff's voice was sharp and clear. There was no hostility or malice in it, but the note of warning was obvious. The young Vulcan didn't need any repetition of the query and answered promptly. Alieth: Yes, sir, I do. Then, Teller stood, and the awareness of danger which even the firmest instruction in the Logic had failed to eradicate suddenly became activated in her mind. She frowned faintly, dreading what would come next. Teller: Oh there's one other thing - mentioned in the report. The tattoo. Lets see it. The Vulcan's face became suddenly pale and then shifted to a bright green Alieth: Sir... ::the human remained unruffled:: ...Mister Teller… ::She swallowed before appealing to her last resort::Geoffrey John, I… I doubt that will be necessary. Her attempt failed disastrously. Teller: "Starfleet uniform code regulation 231, Paragraph J, Subsection 3 - Should any active duty personnel receive cosmetic body modifications without first seeking authorization from their commanding officer, said personnel must submit to a command inspection of same prior to returning to duty to verify it poses no impediment or hazard to the performance of said duties." If you prefer, I could ask Fleet Captain Kells to come by and take care of it. After she had ensnared the Captain in a trap during their last mission the last thing she needed to make a 'perfect' impression was him discovering... THAT. Alieth: No-no sir, that will not be necessary. She pouted before the diabolical usage of regulation against her. Despite this, she took off her jacket and pulled back the sleeve of her shirt until her left shoulder blade became visible. As the commander's eyes settled on the sharp Klingon letters, he laughed, and she turned even greener. Teller: No impediment or hazard here, I think. If anything, it might serve as a good warning label. As you were, Lieutenant. She opened her mouth. She closed it. She opened it again, her face even greener as before, and finally decided that silence was a valid retort to that outrageous comment, as she threw the uniform jacket over her shoulders once more. As Alieth made a hasty retreat for the office door, Geoff rolled up the left sleeve of his uniform jacket. , The movement halted her flight and she turned around slightly just to see how Geoff pulled his sleeve all the way up and exposed his left bicep. Teller: We all make mistakes, Lieutenant. For example, this tattoo? The Vulcan's eyes locked on .... THAT. For an instant they wandered up to the face of the First Officer, disbelief percolating through the cracks in her broken dignity, but they hopelessly returned to focus on the voluptuous depiction of a dark-skinned woman on top of a Veritas Class in the First Officer's ashy arm. Alieth: Sir?!?!?!?!? How?!?!?! WHEN?!?!?!?! Why I did not know .... !?!?! ::The questions piled up on the tip of Alieth's tongue until she was finally able to summarize them into one:: WHY?! Teller: Well, in the original version, Captain Rahman wasn't...::Geoff coughed, momentarily embarrassed::...in uniform. This lead to some...serious professional awkwardness. If Lt. Jg. Teller can learn from that, you can learn from this. ::Geoff wiggled his bicep and the stylized starship and it's equally stylized Captain seemed to ride an invisible wave.:: The Vulcan's eyes remained firmly anchored to the rolling tattoo for two endless minutes before she regained her ability to speak. Alieth: Yes sir, I will sir. Geoff rolled his sleeve back down, which broke the spell that had petrified the Vulcan doctor until that moment. While Teller headed back behind his desk, she had a few seconds to pull herself together. Teller: That'll be all, Lieutenant. Alieth: Yes, sir. :: She hesitated for a moment and finally (and with the tip of her ears still glowing green) she added:: Thank you, sir. As the doors to his office slid closed Geoff shook his head and chuckled, rubbing his bicep wistfully. Captain Rahman had been right to make him keep it, as she had been about so many other things. Geoff smiled ruefully. oO Of course. Skipper's always right. Oo As soon as she uttered those words, she left the room as fast as she could, ignoring the surprised glances of other crew members when she ran up against them. On her way back to her quarters the only thing she could see in her mind eye was the disproportionately gifted figure of Captain Rahman on her First Officer's bicep. Her mind kept revolving around the question if whether she had previously had other incorrect attributes and her spot pattern had gone all the way down or... That day, and many that followed, every time Alieth tried to meditate or sleep, all he could see was Geoff's white biceps and the little Kriosian that rode it. Each time, she opened her eyes with her ears irremediably dyed green. End of the Scene OOC: boQDu' -> She-devil in klingon ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator Trainee =================================
  13. Joke about Teller all you want, he really is an excellent XO. This conversation really resonated with me. ((XO's office, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Teller: And how do you see that sequence of events playing out if you get stabbed to death in a bar fight? Alieth: Inherently, you cannot be stabbed to death in a fistfight. Geoff's eyes narrowed slightly and his tone cooled a fraction. Teller: Hypothetically, Lieutenant. Say one of your playmates brought a knife along. Or both. You know how Klingons like their sharp objects. Geoff watched closely as she mulled it over, the small noises in the room amplified by the tension in the air. Alieth: In that case... poorly. For an instant, Teller heard the faintly musical laughter of his former CO. Geoff was entirely certain that Captain Rahman would've deeply enjoyed being a fly on the wall for this conversation. Teller: Lieutenant...the uniform that you're wearing...that we're all wearing. It means more than just a job or a career. It's a symbol, with a pedigree that goes back centuries, and it stands for values like compassion and tolerance. It stands for patience, and for empathy. In all four quadrants of this galaxy, these colors are synonymous with peaceful collaboration. And that's the uniform you were wearing while brawling in public. ::Geoff shook his head:: Is that how you want to demonstrate your respect for the uniform? Geoff leveled his gaze, from which Alieth quickly looked away. He took no pleasure in raking her over the coals, but this was an important part of his duties as sure as anything he'd done since coming aboard. Alieth shifted uncomfortably before replying. Alieth: I am uncertain about that, sir. Geoff scowled deeply. Teller: Well you had better get certain, Lieutenant, and soon, or you'll find your career options in Starfleet exceptionally limited. Alieth: It is not the first time that I have not lived up to expectations, neither in my time in Starfleet nor... outside it. Although I strive to overcome this circumstance, I may simply not be able to achieve the perfection that has been expected of me. What is, is. And maybe my ambition has blinded me from this very fact. :: She paused briefly:: As my mother often insists, I am inherently inadequate. Geoff blinked, caught flat by the unexpected insight into Alieth's mind. Even Sern, who had agreed to stay out of the matter, registered a deep shock at Alieth's words. Teller's posture finally relaxed and he slumped back in his chair as his anger mostly evaporated. Teller: Alieth...You couldn't be more wrong. This isn't about expectations, and it most certainly isn't about perfection. Long time ago, a very smart woman told me we all make mistakes. The trick was to learn from them. She felt I was someone who could. ::Geoff's attention had wandered as he reminisced but his eyes turned back towards Alieth, stern but sympathetic.:: And I feel the same way about you. Alieth: Response Teller: Now, your mistake wasn't getting into a drunken fistfight. That was A mistake, certainly, but it wasn't The Mistake. Any theories on what your mistake actually was? Geoff let the question hang in the air, allowing time for Alieth to ruminate. Alieth: Response Teller: Your mistake was listening to your mother and not to yourself. Geoff gave that a moment to settle before going on. Teller: Not a single being aboard this ship is perfect, Alieth, and I may as well be the President of that club. That doesn't make any of them inadequate any more than it makes you inadequate. Alieth: Response Teller: There's a saying some of our Marine colleagues like, and I'll admit it caught my ear - I think you could learn something from it. 'Perfect is the enemy of good.' It's a way of saying that chasing perfection can blind you to other options, other ways of succeeding. I think you're trapped in that thinking right now, Lieutenant...maybe you have been for a long time. That to be worthwhile at all, you have to be perfect. That's your mistake, Alieth. Alieth: Response Tags/TBC =============================== Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0
  14. @Wes Greaves ALMOST makes me want to become a marine. Almost. 😉 I love seeing the slice of marine life in Starfleet! ((Marine Quarterdeck, Deck 9, USS Thor)) A smile crept across Wes’s face as he surveyed the abnormally cramped quarterdeck. From the doorway of his office, he had a perfect vantage point of the detachment assembling into the room. Every single Marine had been given their assignments, and non-commissioned officers barked commands while their staff non-commissioned officers watched in satisfaction. Even the pilots and mechanics were present. Looking to his left, the detachment’s Sergeant Major gave Wes a nod, which he returned. The action triggered more shouts and the nearly 80 assembled Marines began to disperse into the halls to make their way toward the turbolifts. All of the turbolifts. ((Main Corridor, Deck 3, USS Thor)) Simultaneously, every lift on the deck opened and unleashed a torrent of Marines in matching dark green running gear. With a smooth and practiced choreography 80 men and woman of various races sprinted into three columns, nearly 30 ranks long, at the aft end of the deck. At their head stood their detachment commander. Greaves: DETACHMENT, DOUBLE TIME. 80+ Voices: MARINE CORPS! At the same instant, 80 feet slammed into the deck as the Marines began to jog together. Science officers were forced to leap and dive out of the way in some cases as the train ran past. The sound of feet hitting the deck made for a rhythmic beat and after a few moments of running, a deep voice began calling cadence. Greaves: Loooooooooow, riiiiight, laaaayoooooo. 80+ Voices: Loooooooooow, riiiiight, laaaayoooooo In unison, the detachment sang out a parroted reply. Their voices shook the doors along the corridor. Many offices and work stations opened with a hiss, heads popping out of doors to see what was going on. Greaves: Mama told Johnny not to go downtown! After each sing-song cadence call, the detachment would return the same reply in their chorus of voices, punctuated by the beat of falling footfalls. Greaves: Marine Corps recruiter was hangin’ around! Greaves: Johnny went downtown anyway! Greaves: To see what the recruiter had to say! Greaves: Recruiter asked Johnny what he wanted to be! Greaves: Johnny said I really wanna be a Marine! Greaves: Johnny caught a trip to Duronis 2! Greaves: There he fought some people called the Romulans! Greaves: Killed a hundred men with his phaser and blade! Greaves: God only knows how many lives he saved! Greavess: Looooooooooo right laaaayyyyyoooooooooo! Greaves: Johnny was bold, and he was brave! Greaves: Johnny jumped on a photon grenade! Greaves: Saved the lives of the men he led! Greaves: But poor old johnny, he was dead! Greaves: Loooooooooow, riiiiight, laaaayoooooo. The snaking mass of bodies had run the entire length of the deck and halfway back down by the end of the cadence, and with a smile Wes let out a new command. Greaves: DETACHMENT, FALL OUT! 80+ Voices: OOOORAH! 80 men and women broke off in various directions, sprinting toward the turbolifts again, Wes in hot pursuit with smile still plastered on his face. ((Main Corridor, Deck 4, USS Thor)) With an impressive choreography the Marines stormed the next deck and reformed into the running formation. Their sing-song voices again resounding through the halls to the beat of their running footfalls. Greaves: Sec’rity, Sec’rity, I'm in doubt! Greaves: Why your belly’s sticking out! Greaves: Is it beer or is it wine! Greaves: Or is it the lack of PT time! Greaves: Singing lo right lay-o! Greaves: Lefty right lay-o! Greaves: Lo right lay-o! Greaves: Left in double time! Greaves: DETACHMENT, FALL OUT! 80+ Voices: OOOORAH! Once again, the mass of bodies broke off in every direction, some Marines now opening laughing as they ran to move on to the next deck. ((Marine Quarterdeck, Deck 9, USS Thor)) Two hours and 26 kilometers later, the Marine detachment completed their run, having shouted down every major corridor in the ship, and heckled every department aboard. Back at the quarterdeck, the Marines laughed, joked, and were otherwise in high spirits, despite the demanding workout. They had made a friendly jab toward the other departments, and it had brought the detachment closer together themselves. They were finally beginning to come out of the funk of the last several months and come together as a team. Wes smiled to himself once again before disappearing into his office. ========================= First Lieutenant Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 =========================
  15. This has been a fun scene to write and is a nice departure from the action/adventure and dark drama that's been looming over the Thor for the last couple of missions. Just a crew enjoying shore leave together. Amanda adds some really excellent narration to the already excellent writing by everyone else in the scene. Keep it up. I'm having fun with this one!
  16. As our community has evolved so to have the relationships between players across ships, and I've been delighted to watch the friendship evolve between these two writers both on the page and off. Oh, and speaking from my perspective aboard the Thor - Alieth's new bodyart is 100% accurate. Great work! And now there's going to be so much groundskeeping.
  17. And finally the last part of this little arch. It was wonderful to be able to read it and see the change unfolding little by little in front of all of us. I just want to mention that there may not be any tattoo parlors, but of course DS224 has tattoo artist Good job guys! @Addison MacKenzie @Genkos Adea @Geoffrey Teller
  18. There are no two without a three and as such this JP SHOULD be here. Mainly because of this: This is it, more than enough Jokes aside, as I always say, it is wonderful to witness the evolution of the characters, how an arch is built in front of our eyes and how it renders them real and credible, even more so if they leave us with little bits of details from previous adventures, from different times, other vessels, which give us a sense of a solid and deep story, of a continuity and inner lore that leaves us wanting to know more and wondering how many sickbays have lost their ceiling. Furthermore, these three goofballs have a knack for humour and at the same time the ability to narrate technically in an enviable fashion, in a style that flows naturally and is a delight to read. Great work, as usual. I have the last part still hot in my inbox and I'm CRAVING to read it. Kudos again for @Addison MacKenzie @Genkos Adea & @Geoffrey Teller
  19. @Addison MacKenzie @Geoffrey Teller @Genkos Adea you know, the lack of peg legs is dissapoing! Jokes aside, i've had this sim on hold till i've had some quiet minutes to appreciate It as It deserved, and oh boy it's a ride. This gang KNOWS how to write comedy and the flow between the characters is just perfect! Eager to catch up the last part!
  20. Do you know the best thing about pranking another writer's character? Having him follow it. That he incorporates it into his character's day-to-day life, even in a serious circumstance, and that he is capable of putting a light sim into the general narrative of the ship with elegance and humour. If on top of that the poor victim is our ill-treated captain... what more can I ask for? I think the gamma quadrant still has reserves of G1TT3RB0MB, skipper. I'm just warning you @Tony, aka Kells
  21. ((‘The Junction’, deck 223, Deep Space 224. The Borderlands)) The petite Vulcan doctor breathed lightly on the surface of her drink before she took a tentative sip. The thick, hot drink burst into a sugary explosion in her mouth, and then descended down her throat, warming her up like the sun of her home planet. Of course, the drink was not only comforting, but had the quality of altering the Vulcan biochemistry, which suited her after the LONG road she had needed to travel to reach the Borderlands’... border. Arguably, in the canteens at the top decks, primarily staffed by Starfleet personnel and Federation civilians, her drinking choices would have raised a few eyebrows. But down there, in a secluded corner of the lower decks, the Klingon waiter attending to the tables didn't bat an eyelid. And much less the patrons, an amalgam of unruly civilians who were largely minding their own business. Or they just slept it off in a corner, too plastered to care about anything. Alieth tucked into the dark hood that obscured her features and settled down for a second shot when a whistle distracted her. The smudged and rusty pub door swung open, and revealed an old familiar face that she had not seen for a long time. Alieth: Meimei! Sirin: Alieth ::smirking slightly:: I see you have found yet another unique place for us to meet. Alieth: I know you are fond of interesting places, therefore I have just provided you the most fascinating place that I have found. The statement was delivered in a flat, pragmatic tone, still there was a mischievous gleam in the young Vulcan's eyes and the tiniest sketch of a smile danced for an instant on her lips. Meidra nodded to the waiter, muttering her drink order in Klingon. If he was surprised, he said nothing, only growling in response before going to get her beverage. She sat across the table from her cousin, and gave the usual Vulcan greeting, and received the usual response. Sirin: It has been too long, krei. Tell me, how is life on the Thor? Are you keeping everyone logical? Alieth: Indeed just too long. And about the Thor’s crew... ::Shaking her hand gently:: It is an unachievable endeavour, most of them are just a hopeless case. Amusement flared in the counselor’s eyes as she well understood her cousin’s wry humor. She took a long drink from her flask, pondering if she could convince the waiter to refill it for her before she and her favorite krei went exploring. She put in back into a pocket and patiently waited for her actual drink to arrive. Meanwhile, the doctor took a brief sip of her drink before she answered, her eyebrows knitted over her eyes. Alieth: Otherwise things on the Thor have been reasonably calm. We took part in a coup d'état, prevented an ecological disaster and only the Captain was about to lose his life because of a hitman. Compared with our previous missions, the ship has no extra holes and, aside from Fleet Captain Kells, most of the crew is in good condition. A truly uneventful mission for Starfleet. A few months ago her answer would have been vastly different, as a connoisseur of quiet and routine as she was. Nevertheless, routine seemed to have taken on unexpected forms since she had graduated from the Academy. And she had embraced it. It was a disturbing realization. Alieth: So how was everything at the Resolution? We spoke briefly at your previous shoreleave, yet I have heard hardly anything from you since then. Meidra: This shore leave has been different from the last. I did go to a holodeck, but this time it was not to fight my grandfather’s image. I was invited to participate in a ::searching for right words:: a mystery solving game. It was entertaining. She told her cousin how Ensign Yalu had created a dead body for her amusement, and the two shared a grin. The waiter flung down her drink with an appropriate insult which Meidra matched as she slammed her fist on the table. After a moment, both she and the waiter laughed, and he gave Meidra a swift salute before leaving to serve other patrons. Alieth: That is a novelty, were you able to perform an autopsy on the victim's body? ::Alieth became silent for a short while before she answered herself. :: You know, just do not tell me and send me the program, I am sure Mister Greaves will appreciate it too. Alieth: What about your last mission? According to what I heard you were in a diplomatically delicate situation. Sirin: We were asked to intervene between a peace loving society and the Klingons. Thankfully, no blood was spilled. To be honest, I do not believe the Klingons assigned to the mission truly wanted to be there. It was most confusing in a way. ::smiles:: although our First Officer certainly put them in their place. The tiny Vulcan took another quick sip of her cocoa and leaned forward, resting elbows on her knees. The short motion prompted a maverick lock of hair slipped out of her tight ponytail, which Alieth wasted no time placing it back behind one of her pointy ears. Sirin: I have a slight appreciation for Klingons after seeing them again on our latest mission. They have a fascinating way of twisting logic to serve their agenda. ::Looks around:: I had thought you would have brought your ….what are you calling him again? Your BFF? The one trapped in a human male? The Vulcan woman almost choked on her drink as a green shade rose to her cheeks and dyed the tips of her ears. Alieth: As much as I would have appreciated the chance to introduce you to my closest friend Sern, making so bringing here that troublemaker human in whom he currently resides would have been a highly... improper situation to say the least. :: An image of her ginger superior officer flashed into her mind and Alieth hastened to take another swig to hide the expressions that crept up her face. Alieth: No, that would be actually a TERRIBLE idea. What about you? Last time we talked I thought you said you were interested in establishing a close relationship with someone, a human male? How they call it… ‘Dating him’ The small counselor rolled her eyes. Dating, for lack of a better word, was not something Meidra did. She’d had a few intense encounters before joining StarFleet, but they weren’t the type of men (or women) she’d bring to a family dinner. Aeson was a distraction from admitting that she felt something for another officer. She would never admit who it was, maybe not even to herself. She would admit to a certain loneliness at times. But she didn’t need to say it out loud. Alieth’s expression told her that much. Sirin: I’m not sure what I have to offer anyone. Hey, ni’hin person, um...jabwl’, waiter person. Another bloodwine. Then a Vulcan brandy chaser. Alieth: Another cocoa for me, black, without sugar, 50ºC. Once the burly Klingon had taken their orders (mumbling something about Vulcans who thought they knew his job better than he did), Alieth looked back to her relative's eyes. Her hieratic expression had somehow softened and her eyes gazed warmly at Meidra. Alieth: You know you have a lot to share with a bondmate Meidra, even if you try hard to hide it. You carry the best traits of our family after all. Alieth's gaze glistened with mischief a split second before she added. Alieth: This is quite an achievement for an overly emotional hybrid like yourself, if you ask me. Sirin: Yes, you make it sound logical. ::sighing:: I have not eaten since morning meal. Chasing ghosts works up an appetite. Even if they are holograms. ::looks at Alieth:: after dinner we should walk around a bit and see what this station has to offer. It’s rare to see you, we should strive to create pleasant memories. Meidra knew her tolerance for alcohol was far more than most of the clientele here. But she was a bit hungry. The Klingon waiter came back to get their food order, and place their next round of drinks on the table. Alieth: ::With a slightly tipsy voice:: All right, let's toast and have an end meal later and let find what this station has to offer us. Sirin: An appropriate plan of action, krei The minute Vulcan raised her mug, such that a few drops of thick, black liquid fell on the table. She remained in that position for a moment, while her brain struggled to find something appropriate to say Alieth: For the old friendships and those that we are building, for those we met and those we will eventually meet. And that wherever our paths take us, we will always find refuge from the sandstorms in each other. [[TBC]] OOC: krei → (vulcan) female relative descended from siblings of parents or earlier line of descent ni’hin → (Vulcan) bar, pub jabwl’ →(Vulcan) waiter ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: E239702A10 Image Collective Co-Facilitator Trainee ================================= & Ensign Meidra Sirin Counseling Officer USS Resolution R239707MS0
  22. I have said it many times: it is wonderful to witness how characters who have had a personal development for a long time interact with each other. Plus, the fact that they have the sass and charm that @Addison MacKenzieMackenzie and @Geoffrey Teller have together adds a lot to the mix. And if they also include an (unknown to me until now IC) incredible talented @Genkos Adea in the mix they create an explosive and hilarious combo. Furthermore, I have ALWAYS said that I love writers who dare to deal with the consequences of their characters' actions in missions and drag them through time to tell us about their consequences and how they deal with it, which is a good example in this case, not only with Genkos' leg, but how you pull strings from various missions and characters along at least 4 different ships. DELICIOUS. A spectacular work, guys, and very funny to read. Just a small correction, BOSS: it's not lover is BFF! 😝
  23. ((Deck 5, Hammer’s Bowling Alley, USS Thor - 0426, The night before the promotion)) Neither Wil, or his Captain, had achieved their primary objective yet. He held the bowling ball in front of his mouth, thinking about his technique. He thought about which of the guiding triangles he should aim for, as he sang quietly along with the audio that was filling the bowling alley. Ukinix/Audio: The man in-me will-do… near-ly a-ny task… With the grace of an uncoordinated horse, Wil took a few steps towards the white line. As he approached, he swung the bowling ball back behind him, before flinging it forward and releasing it from his fingers. After the sound of a large “thud” of the ball hitting the polished wooden floor, the ground rumbled as the ball travelled along towards the head pin. Wil made a fist in anticipated victory, before the pins crashed together, knocking almost all of them over - except for the furthermost outside two pins on the very back row. Computer: You have bowled a 7-10 split. Your score is 8 points. Ukinix: ::Single clap of hands:: Dammit! So close. Rahman: Tsk, tsk… forget the bridge simulator, you need to spend more time at the lanes. Wil looked up at Teller, who was suspended from the ceiling of the bowling alley by a bungee cord that was attached to a device with slowly flashing red lights. The device was wirelessly hooked into the bowling alley’s scoring system. Below the dangling suspended Teller was a large tub of a cream and gelatine mixture. And his dress uniform lay crumpled up in a pile next to the tub. Wil looked up at the newly minted Commander, and gave him a wink. Ukinix: Don’t worry, mate. ::Gesturing to Roshanara:: One of us will get that strike, we’ll get you down. Teller: ¡ʇuɐǝɯ noʎ ʇɥƃnoɥʇ I ʇɐɥʍ ┴ON sᴉ sᴉɥʇ uʍop ǝpᴉsdn unɟ ǝɯos ǝʌɐɥ oʇ ʇuɐʍ noʎ op pᴉɐs noʎ ǝɹǝɥʍ ɹɐǝʍs I lᴉM Roshanara looked up at the suspended and newly-minted Commander. Rahman: Do you mind? I’m trying to bowl here… Teller: ¡uᴉɐɹq ʎɯ oʇ ƃuᴉɥsnɹ poolq ǝɥʇ llɐ ɥʇᴉʍ ʇɐɥʍ noʎ ʇɔɐɹʇsᴉp oʇ uɐǝɯ ʇ,upᴉp 'ɹǝddᴉʞS ʎɹɹos ɯ,I ɥO His first CO gave him an approving smile before she took a few steps and launched the ball towards the pins. With a satisfying crunch, she managed to hit seven of them. Not enough to dunk him completely, but enough to trigger the device to give him a little shake as it dipped him closer to the tub. The line shuddered, dropping him a few CM’s closer to the frothy tub. He didn’t know how they’d convinced Darren Hammer, owner & operator of the lanes, to setup what looked like a large kiddie pool full of jello & shaving cream, but Geoff suspected bribery. He also suspected that somewhere, Taz Shandres was filming this, ready to make another viral hit on Fednet. Teller: ¿uoᴉʇᴉpɐɹʇ ʇǝǝlɟɹɐʇS ɐ sᴉɥʇ sᴉ ʎlʇɔɐxǝ ʍoH Wil furrowed his brow momentarily. For a split second, he could have sworn that with his friend suspended like that, it sounded like he had Wil’s accent. He shrugged his shoulders and shook it off as an odd, stray thought. Ukinix: Mate, stop whinging. All the greatest officers have been through the same thing. They did it to Spock when he became an ambassador. ::Under his breath:: Probably. ::To Roshanara:: Your bowl, Captain. The Kriosian nodded and held the ball up to her chin as she studied the lane like a starship tactician. The pins waited at the end as if they were a line of Tholian webspinners. Rahman: This one’s from Rosie. Teller: ˙˙˙˙ʇsnɾ plnoɔ ǝʍ ʞoo˥ The ball struck home with thunderous force and the line went slack. Geoff had a strange moment of weightlessness during which he considered many of the choices he’d made to lead him to this point in his life. His self-reflection was interrupted by his rapid descent and nearly explosive entry into the pool, which flung foam and jello like a geyser in every direction. Geoff struggled through the bizarre, coconut smelling soup, trying to pull himself through it. All he could hear was the splorp of jello moving and peels of laughter. When he finally was able to take his feet, Geoff had less than a second to realize both the Skipper and Wil were pointing strange sparklie tubes at him. With a loud pop, both spat an enormity of brightly colored confetti at him. He was now shirtless, pantless, and effectively glazed and decorated. Teller: I’m a damn cup-cake. Teller: oO They’re going to pay for this. Somehow. They’re going to pay. Oo Wil couldn’t stop laughing. He crouched down, before laying on the ground, on his side, holding his stomach. There was a mischievous snicker that he couldn’t stop. He looked back at glittery, gloopy Teller, and laughed even harder as he rolled onto his back. Rahman: Quit horsing around and get over here. Eventually, Wil got to his feet as his laughter subsided. On the nearby table were three essential items - a towel, a bathrobe, and a glass of White Russian. He picked them up, and handed the towel and glass to Commander Teller. Ukinix: There y’are, Geoffrey. Geoff took both items with deep suspicion, but with few other options he tried to clean himself up while taking a tentative sniff of the drink. Teller: The hell is this? Smells like a milkshake! Wil picked up his own half finished White Russian, and raised his glass in Teller’s direction. Ukinix: ::Holding up glass:: To Commander Teller. Geoff grinned and nodded his head solemnly before throwing the newly soaked towel back at Wil, catching him full in the face with a wet twok. Teller: Cheers, mate! Roshanara held onto the oversized beige bathrobe with both hands held out, taking care not to look too far down while she protected Teller’s modesty in front of any Prophets watching from the nearby Celestial Temple. Rahman: All right, let’s make sure you don’t catch a cold. Geoff glugged down the desert like drink, but caught the lingering bite of a sweet liquor. He suspected he’d be upside down again, without being tied to the ceiling, quite soon. The bathrobe was enormous and nearly went down to the floor, flapping past his wrists and into his tumbler. Somehow, a floppy belt really tied the whole ensemble together. Teller: Is this some kind of religious ceremony I’ve never heard of? Oooh, I know, can I be one of those Romulan lady sword monks?! The drink was already kicking in. Wil took a quick sip of his drink while eying Geoffrey in his ensemble. Ukinix: You look like a pimp. The captain went over to grab her own mug of coffee. It was rather early in the morning after all. She took a seat on one of the comfortable couches. Rahman: So… Mr. Teller. I suppose this marks a new chapter. You’re certainly no longer a young, wide-eyed ensign. Geoff smiled and accepted the compliment as graciously as he could manage while tripping over the edge of an oversized bathrobe. Teller: ::Geoff smiled sheepishly:: Thanks Skipper, that was...almost kind of you to say. Rahman: You’re fortunate you’re so irritatingly ingratiating. It’s the only factor I’ve identified that’s kept you from getting shot at more often. Geoff smirked and bowed with an elaborate flourish. Teller: All part of the service, Skipper. Ukinix: Captain, just give the man a hug, he deserves it. Roshanara looked back at a beaming Teller for a moment and then shook her head. Rahman: “Nah, I’m good.” Wil smirked and blinked a little at his Captain’s impersonation of him, before he turned to his friend. Ukinix: ::To Teller:: I’ll head to the bar and get us another round. He turned and made his way over to the long, luxurious wooden bar that was positioned away from the bowling lanes. Geoff nodded in thanks and produced the empty tumbler from under a frayed sleeve. Why the bathrobe already looked ratty and worn was beyond Teller, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Teller: It’s this brand of supportive abuse that got me where I am today - so in a way, Skipper, all of ::Geoff gestured to his fairly ridiculous self:: this...is on you. After her chief engineer went off to raid the alley’s stores of alcohol, Roshanara looked over at Teller sitting in the much-too-large armchair across from her. Rahman: You look adorable. Like that first time you sat in my command chair. Geoff’s eyebrows went up - it was a moment he remembered well. Teller: I was terrified, you know? Figured the seat was booby trapped or something. ::Geoff found his smile coming more naturally.:: I’m still not 100% sure it isn’t. She just smiled back coyly before she got up and took a seat next to him in the other chair, pulling her feet up and folding her legs under her as she sat. Rahman: So… how are you? Geoff mimmed strumming a guitar. Teller: Well, like you said Skipper - it’s been a long road. ::Geoff smirked:: But it’s been worth it. Rahman: Yes, yes… but I’m not speaking as a Starfleet captain to a commander in terms of the job you’ve done. I mean how are *you* doing? Geoff leaned back, considering the scope of the unexpectedly personal question. He noticed his dressed uniform, crumpled on the floor nearby, and the pips near the collar. Each represented missions, and people, and time spent or adventures had. He’d met friends, formed bonds, and grown as a person with each little bronze circle pinned to that jacket. Their significance had never seemed greater to him. Teller: Honestly...I guess I don’t think about it much - but I’m good. Really. The last year hasn’t been easy, but watching this crew come together has been..enriching. It was something I didn’t expect...and I didn’t expect to like it. I feel...older, somehow. And not just because my shoulder makes that crunching noise. She nodded as she cradled her coffee mug. Rahman: You’re someone others look up to now. Someone who models the kind of officer they hope to be. And someday, you’ll be someone else’s “Skipper.” Geoff tried to imagine that. Not the brash fantasies of the Academy, but a real time where a Captains chair was his and his alone. It seemed...more plausible now, a natural extension of the work he’d done. It wasn’t about personal glory, it was an awesome responsibility. It wasn’t about self-aggrandizement, but about leading others and letting their potential flourish. It was so much bigger than he’d ever imagined as an Ensign. Teller: I got lucky - I learned from the best, and ::Geoff nodded towards the bar:: I worked with the best. Shoulders of Giants. That should be the title of my autobiography. So much better than my other idea. Geoff got the least bit embarrassed. Teller: “Telling the Teller Tales By Teller.” Yeah, I know, it’s bad. She gestured to Wil in the distance as they both watched him rummage through the bar, still on the hunt for the evening’s next libation. Rahman: Still. It can be a lonely place at the top. And the friendships you made before you got there… are worth more than their volume in latinum. Roshanara herself had noted the change in her relationship to her shipmates when she’d moved up from chief engineer to XO. Being in a position of authority had required maintaining a certain distance, but that distance was created on both ends, from her and her colleagues--the latter’s effort being unexpectedly difficult to adjust to at times. Rahman: Have you gotten close to any of your new crew outside of a professional context? ::She grinned as she teased him slightly.:: Maybe someone special even? Geoff squinted and for a brief moment, heard his mother's laughter. Teller: What can I say - never found the time? Never found the right one? ::Geoff briefly reminisced about what had, and could have, been.:: Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment? The question was as much to himself as to his friend. It was true he’d kept to himself since leaving the Veritas, letting his responsibilities and his position isolate him. It had become almost habitual, and it allowed him to narrow his focus. Perhaps that was something else he had to...reexamine. Rahman: All right, then what about just friends? Teller: Friends - yes. Colleagues I respect and admire, absolutely. But there’s nobody else I trust like I trust you, or Wil, or Addison. Veritas feels like the home I grew up in - the people there took me in when I needed them, and let me become part of their lives. It was...something I didn’t know I needed. They’ll always be family to me. Roshanara nodded and then glanced down a little at his left arm, the stylized tattoo version of herself hidden underneath. What was once a drunken souvenir had become a badge of pride, representing Teller’s admiration for his first ship and captain. Rahman: I know I once told you that no matter where you go, Veritas will always be with you. Teller: Yep. I keep her right over here ::Geoff thumbed towards his heart:: next to the Thor. Rahman: But I think you should know it only gets harder to form those bonds from here on up… She struggled with the exact words she was looking for as he looked back at her. Rahman: The command decisions you’re making these days... affecting not just a team or a department but the entire crew... Geoff nodded gravely. He’d felt that distance forming more than once and had fought to dispel it. He leaned forward, his drink forgotten for a moment, his attention focused. Teller: It keeps me up some nights. I’ll take any advice you’ve got to offer. She nodded sympathetically. Rahman: One strategy is to keep your distance. It can make those decisions clearer for you about what needs to be done for the mission. But it can also leave you feeling hollow. She paused before she let out a sigh. Rahman: I’ve asked a lot of you over this past year. And you’ve done it. For Duronis II, Starfleet, and the Federation. But promise me one thing? Teller: I’ve never lied to you - not going to start now. You’ve got my word. Rahman: Don’t let this job consume you. A life in Starfleet isn’t just about getting the mission done. You need that social support, even more so as you move up the ranks. Make your time in the service about the *people* instead of the missions. The friendships you’ll leave with will make far greater company than the service ribbons. Geoff felt the wisdom in the advice deeply. His hardest days in Starfleet had been those when he was most alone, and the new bonds he’d forged in the last year had as much to do with his success as any that came before. Teller: Honestly, the Veritas is the family I was born into. The Thor is the family I got to build. I’m proud of both, and I know these people have my back as much as I have theirs. You taught me how to make a ship a home, Skipper. Promise me you won’t forget it. She nodded and raised her mug, tapping his glass. Both rang, and their shared their drink in brief companionable silence. ((“Quark’s Bar”, Deep Space Nine - three hours later)) Wil leaned over to the Ferengi that was behind the bar - although from his point of view, after the large quantity of drinks that he and Geoffrey had consumed, it looked like there were two of them. Ukinix: ::Raising empty glass:: Mate. It’s a bit of a dry argument here. ::Burp:: How about another drink? The Ferengi behind the bar gave the Human a fake cordial smile. To’n: You’re lucky it’s happy hour or you’ll be paying off your bar tab as a dabo girl. Geoff wobbled a bit, the conversation only half heard over the din in the bar and the din in his head. Teller: I did it Wil, I got that big new job….DABO! With a smirk, Wil thought of something that he knew would further infuriate the Ferengi. Ukinix: ::Smirking:: You’d be a *fetching* dabo girl, Commander! To’n: ::Under his breath:: Sure. If I wanted to lose all of my business. Ukinix: What? To’n: ::Fake smile:: Nothing. What will be your next drink, gentlemen? Wil lifted his finger, and unable to keep it still pointed to some of the bottles behind the bar. Ukinix: Two more big glasses of the green ones. And another two shots of the pink one. Teller: And whatever that talkative guy at the end of the bar is having. ::Geoff gestured towards the ancient Lurian with the hollow leg at the end of the bar:: And one for each of his brothers and sisters! Ukinix: Why not! ::Slapping Geoffrey on the back, then turning to T’on:: *Four* more of the pink ones, thanks! The bartender tried to keep the smile off his face. Their elderly patron had seventeen brothers and sisters. The drinks were added to the tab, as requested, as he fetched the rest for the well toasted officers. To’n: That’s a deal. When the Ferengi returned with their drinks, Wil grabbed one of the shot glasses, and handed it to Teller. He then grabbed one of his own. Ukinix: Congratulations, Commander. I’m proud of you. Geoff may have been exhausted, sore, and inebriated - but at that moment he was mostly relaxed. For however brief a time it would last, all was right in his world and he had the rare opportunity to celebrate with a dear friend. Teller: Thanks knackers! ::Geoff finished his drink and procured one of the replacements:: And I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Ukinix: What should we drink to? Geoff considered and had a brief, lucid flash of a children's story he’d heard long ago, about a pirate who learned too late that friendship was the real treasure. Geoff smiled at his brother by bond and raised a glass. Teller: To the real treasure, my friend. Ukinix: To treasure! They clinked their glasses together, before downing the pink liquid. Wil flinched, and his whole body shook as the strong alcoholic beverage went down. Teller: Ugh, that’ll burn a hole right through ya…::Geoff leaned against the bar heavily, lazily wandering through his memory of recent missions::..I ever tell you I met a dragon? Dragons..s. ::Geoff found the word oddly challenging:: They were nice! Ukinix: I think…::raising finger::... that I may be really drunk. We should call it a night. Or a morning. What time is it? Geoff glanced at a wall chrono that was all but hidden behind a giant hoload for something called ‘Papa Zek’s Oomax Guide’ and sprang unsteadily to his feet. Teller: Ungh...I’m supposed to be back on duty in an hour. I’ll have to find the infirmary and get something to clear my head out...or I might be the first person to get promoted and court martialed on the same day. Wil smashed his hand to his chest, to press his combadge - but missed, without him realising. Ukinix: Ukinix to Transporter Room… uh… any transporter room. Two to beam up Geoff squinted, pretty sure Wil and the Captain had arrived by shuttle. Teller: Who are you even trying... Ukinix: Why aren’t they answering? Geoff hoped the infirmary had room for two. Teller: Come on, Vice Admiral Winning Pants. Adventure is this way. Unsteadily, the two staggered towards the infirmary and all that lay beyond. END ==== Captain Roshanara Rahman CO, USS Veritas I238705TZ0 & Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0 & Lieutenant Commander Wil Ukinix Chief Engineer and Second Officer USS Veritas V239511WU0
  24. A feast of a JP from the Thor's junior officers! 😍 An imaginative scene full of mischief and good humour - it's great to see the characters off shift ... getting up to no good! Cannot wait for this to play out. "Pranking The Brass" ((Captain’s Ready Room, Deck 1, USS Thor)) Peri was going to owe Cassie big time. Although she’d already traded shifts with her once, this was going to cost her more, and Cassie wasn’t the type to forget it. At least she had found some humour in the plan, and seemed willing to help them out, for which Peri was grateful. The question was, were they going to get caught? And if they did, what would happen? The young ensign tried really, really hard not to think about that. At least Cassie was willing to make sure they got access to the Ready Room, though how Peri didn’t know. She probably didn’t want to know. All that she knew was that they’d be able to get in and take care of what they wanted to take care of. Alieth had been there when Peri had thought of it, but she had also asked Wes if he would come along. The more hands they had, the faster they would go, which meant they would be less likely to get caught. Making her way through the halls, Peri clutched the bag which contained everything they would need, though she couldn’t help but glance around. It was the middle of the night, so most of the people were just night shifters, but...could they tell? Did they know she was up to no good? Oh shards, she hoped not. As she approached the office, she saw two other familiar forms arrive at the same time. Peri managed a brief if nervous smile. One more glance was given, then, after making sure no one who wasn’t in the know was around, she turned and stepped up to the doors of the ready room. Like magic, they parted. With a squeak, Peri darted in, motioning for her accessories to hurry in with her so they wouldn’t be seen in the hall. When the doors closed behind them, she sighed. Katsim: Computer. Lights. Immediately, they turned on, and Peri set the bag on a chair and unzipped it. Katsim: Um. Alieth...could you stand at the door and...you know, maybe listen? Just in case? Or would it be better to be outside? Vulcans had superior hearing, so she knew Alieth would be able to listen through, but would it be better to see? Could Alieth somehow provide cover for them if she were outside? Peri was definitely not cut out for Intelligence. Alieth: I think it is better that I stay here if I must act as a watchman :: Tilting her head :: If I stand in the middle of the corridor in front of the captain's office, arms crossed, I guess it would be mildly suspicious. Her tone, of course, was solemn and circumspect, yet as she settled down by the door, one of her pointed ears pressed against the wall to listen to the corridor's shenanigans, she glanced sideways at Wes, a glint in her eye. All that prank fuss was proving to be massively entertaining. Inside the bag were a ton of streamers and other supplies that Peri had replicated. She’d used up a week’s allotment for them, but hopefully it would be worth it. Offering a roll to Wes, she pointed to the desk. From the bag, she also retrieved a PADD. During the planning, she realised that it was likely any PADD of the captain’s would be securely locked, so she took one of the standard PADDS that wasn’t associated with a specific person. The message had been set, now they had to implement the plan. Katsim: Wes, if you could help me attach the streamers. I’ll get the PADD on the ceiling. That was a feat only achievable by the mere fact that the desk was tall enough that if Peri climbed on it, she could actually touch the ceiling. Wes leaned against the bulkhead near the door and crossed his arms. With a smile and a shake of the head, he watched the Ensign work. Greaves: Not a chance. I’m just here to observe, and maybe offer some constructive criticism. This is all your prank. Alieth moved her face away from the wall briefly to glance at her friend, who was displaying his best smug face and his keen skill at standing idle without making a move. A very vulcan skill, as far as she was concerned. Katsim: Oh. The poor ensign's response only made the Vulcan woman strive to remain circumspect. Neither she nor Wes were making it easy for Alieth. Peri had thought that when he said he’d come that he’d be willing to help. She hadn’t realised….quickly she ducked her head, a blush lightly brushing across her cheeks as she climbed upon the desk to work on tacking the PADD onto the ceiling. Wes glanced toward Alieth, and their eyes met. He knew that she was a touch telepath, but sometimes he could swear that she could read thoughts without that pesky requirement. Alieth: Since the primary purpose of the JOPA is to assist junior officers, it might not be unreasonable to help her. :: bowing her head and narrowing her eyes somewhat :: furthermore I reckon that the Ensign has aimed high enough with her prank to receive the help of those long arms of yours And maybe after that and just for the Marine's eyes she stuck out her tongue. But just a little. And just quite quickly. Greaves: (Laughing) Alright, alright. You’re right. It’s a pretty ballsy plan anyway. Let’s get it over with. A sense of relief washed over Peri. The more people working, the faster they finished, the less likely they were to get caught. That was the last thing she wanted to happen - especially for Alieth and Wes. Grabbing one end of the streamers, Wes stood on a chair near the wall and connected it to the wall. As he turned to reinforce the connection, his foot nearly slipped as the seat rocked. Peri glanced over at Wes as he began to work with the streamers. The little nodes they would attach had been something Peri had thought of later. With Cassie’s help, she’d gotten them synced up with the message. Once the PADD was taken down, the message would play, the nodes would explode and send confetti and glitter throughout the entire room. The whole place would turn into a rainbow of glittering colours. The Vulcan stood by the wall again and observed them carrying out their tasks, doing what she knew best: being a perfectionist. Alieth: It is a touch crooked in the middle. Four and a half degrees to be exact. As she said this, the two officers on the table leaned dangerously, in a more than unstable balance on one of the edges of the desk. Katsim: Be careful… Greaves: I’m fine. Alieth, help me out with the other side of these things. Peri, are you almost done with that padd? Alieth: Of course The doctor left her position of watchman by the wall for a while, but before joining the group on the desk, she took a small detour towards the door to lock it. Of course, anyone with a higher security clearance level than her (therefore, any senior officer) could override her lock and open the door, but that little protection would save them from most prying eyes. Katsim: I’m done. Carefully, Peri climbed down from her perch on the desk and grabbed another roll of streamers from the bag. The satiny, red material shone slightly under the lights. Taking a second box of tacky stuff with which she would attach it, she pushed the captain’s chair over to the far corner opposite of Wes and climbed up, starting on that part. Katsim: Don’t forget to twist them… That made the streamers a little prettier, and it would help them determine how far apart to set the nodes. Carefully, she attached the end of that streamer, then clambered down from there. Walking around the desk, she dragged one of the visitor’s chairs toward the opposite corner diagonal from where she was. Once there, she climbed again, stepping on her tip toes, wobbling a bit, then attaching a streamer there. Greaves: Twist them? Are you kidding? It’s a prank, not a birthday party. Despite his misgivings, Wes hastily complied and began twisting the streamers in his hands as suggested. While twisting the streamers according to Peri's example, Alieth addressed an issue about which she had always been intrigued. Alieth: It always caught my attention that you humans have so much penchant for celebrating the anniversary of your own birth. What exactly is the event worth celebrating? If it was the nativity itself, you had little merit in it and your progenitors should be the real honorees. The Marine stopped twisting the streamers and looked at Alieth with a raised brow. Of all the things that Vulcan’s usually critiqued, now she was attacking birthdays? Greaves: (shaking his head) It’s a celebration of your personhood. Of your existence. It’s an excuse for friends and family to share their appreciation of you. You don’t have any similar celebrations on Vulcan? From that perspective the celebration made more sense, but it was still highly unproductive for the Vulcan. If at least it was a rite of passage... Alieth: Of course not, the completion of a circumambulation around Eridani A is hardly noteworthy. Moreover, given the disparity between stardates and the years of individual planets, such anniversaries are meaningless. Greaves: Alieth, have you ever heard the term, buzzkill? Alieth: Yes. From you, on our first day at the Embassy. And on exactly eight occasions after that. Also from you. Still a word that has no meaning, though. I have never killed any buzz. Peri simply nodded and continued in her work. That corner done, she scooted over to the middle of the wall on the opposite end, trying to mirror and reverse what Wes was doing with his roll. Greaves: I’m sure the bridge crew are starting to wonder why we came in here. Let’s try and wrap this up before someone comes asking questions. For a moment the Vulcan interrupted what she was doing and pivoted slightly towards the door. As far as her keen ears could ascertain the only thing that she could hear was the gentle and everlasting hum of the vessel and a hoarser and rougher sound stationary on the bridge. If it wasn't a behaviour inconceivable in a starfleet officer, Alieth would have sworn that someone on the bridge was snoring blissfully. Alieth: I heard naught.... although haste in this situation is not farfetched. At that point, Wes and Peri met in the middle. She paused, pondering, then dipped down to go under the streamer in his hand to weave hers beneath, then aimed for the other side of the wall. By then, the streamers were low enough that they didn’t need the chairs any longer. Criss cross, applesauce, over, around, back, through, all over the room the streamers began to weave a web, one that Peri easily navigated and, with a glance at Wes, one that didn’t really hinder him as well. With the Captain’s height, however, he would certainly either have to do some fancy maneuvering, or just plow through them. Peri’s lips tickled upward. That would also detonate the nodes. Eventually, the streamers were depleted, but now they had to go back and attach the nodes. She had been fearful that attaching them beforehand might prove problematic, either with detonation, or the sticky stuff sticking to each other and folding up the streamers. It just seemed to be easier to attach them after they were hung. Each node had already been attached to a piece of the sticky tack, then placed into boxes to prevent them from attaching to anything else, then separated by thin dividers that were of a material that the tack wouldn’t stick to. She handed one to Wes, then made her way to the innermost corner. Preemptively, Alieth moved to her original position next to the door. From there, the husky noise was even more noticeable. Certainly, it SEEMED to be a snore. Greaves: Doesn’t look like there’s enough to just slap these on wherever we want. Did you have a plan for how far spaced out they should be? Katsim: Every...third or fourth curl I guess. Thus she set to work, grateful that they had decided to help after all. Such work would have taken so long if she’d been left by herself to do it all . Except for Cassie who wasn’t available because she was on shift at that time, Alieth and Wes were the only two she felt like she could really call friends. Attaching the nodes went a little faster, and finally, Peri found herself in the outermost corner where Wes had dragged one of the visitor’s chairs. Starting at the bottom, she added nodes to the layers, then climbed upon the chair to attach one to the upper most curl of the top streamer. Reaching up, she fiddled with the node, which decided to stick to her finger instead of the streamer. Pulling hard, she managed to get it to release her skin and adhere to the fabric. Unfortunately, the streamer decided it didn’t want to stick. Peri caught it, then attempted to stick it back on the highpoint of the wall. That corner had originally been Wes’. The streamer had originally been placed a little higher than the one she’d hung on the opposite side of the door, so she couldn't quite reach. After two vain attempts, Peri glanced down, placed one foot on one arm, then the other foot on the opposite one and lifted herself up. That did it. She managed to affix the streamer once more. As she stepped down, however, the chair decided enough was enough. It swiveled. Peri swiveled with it. Peri then stopped swiveling and tumbled over the side of the chair and into the doors of the room. Attentive as she was to the intriguing sound in the bridge, Alieth failed to see the fall coming. She only saw a blur next to her head, which triggered her reflexes and made her leap backwards out of Peri's trajectory. When she realized what had happened, she regretted her sudden move immediately. She could have done something to prevent that fall. Two cracks resounded in succession as head and arm slammed forcefully against the doors, which then parted to let her slide down to the floor. Pain lanced through her arm and her head. Her mouth opened, a cry following a gasp and she curled up in an attempt to retreat from the hammers and daggers that struck at her arm and head. As the woman fell, Wes nearly lost his own footing, and he flailed his arms widely to keep his balance. The moment stretched out until just as Peri collided with the door, he finally got his footing under control. Greaves: Crap. There’s no way they didn’t hear that out there. Peri, you okay? The doctor knelt swiftly beside the ensign, holding her face between her hands to ensure she did not move her neck, just in case. When her slender fingers touched the slightly greyish skin, a pang of pain leaked into the vulcan mind. Peri writhed at the touch, another cry escaping despite her attempt to be quiet. Alieth: I know it hurts, but I need you to stay still :: with gentleness, she moved her fingers over the nape of her, so suddenly, patient, seeking something out of place.:: Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Dizzy? Oh yeah. Nausea? Peri couldn’t think clearly enough to say whether or not she was nauseous. Her head was ringing, the loud crash of a gong unwilling to silence, and despite Alieth’s gentle admonishment, she couldn’t help but jerk away from the Vulcan’s touch. That only made matters worse, as the world, which had already begun to spin, lurched and tumbled upside down. The only verbal answer Alieth received was a long, low groan. Wes hopped down and jogged to the pair of women. Greaves: You have a tricorder on you Alieth? How bad is it? She shook her head, in a negative statement. Alieth: I certainly did not anticipate that I would need it. :: She gazed at the marine sideway:: Give me a moment to examine her. Her fingers kept moving around the back of her neck. As she did so, the Vulcan conveyed some of the calm she had nurtured, trying to placate the emotions that had taken hold of Peri. As the doctor's fingers completed their journey from the base of her skull to her shoulders without finding anything troubling, she finally pulled her hands away and focused on the arm that Katsim held tightly against her chest. Alieth: :: in a soft, reassuring tone:: Can I take a look on it? The telepathic touch was odd. Not odd as in bad, just as in Peri hadn’t ever felt something like that before - yet she immediately recognised that Alieth was connecting with her somehow. Oh yes...Vulcans. Telepathic. If they touched you. That sort of managed to sift its way through the hammers that continued to batter her head. She didn’t /want/ Alieth to take a look. She wanted the pain to go away. Greaves: Alright, we need to get out of here before someone comes around wondering what the racket is. I think I can modify the logs so it doesn’t look like we were here and give us a site to site transport straight to sickbay. The doctor paused what she was doing and nodded briefly. Alieth: To the secondary one, Doctor Quen is working on the main. He stood and moved around to the Captain’s desk. Tapping quickly on the desktop computer Wes found that Captain Kells had remained logged on. He grinned at the good fortune and, using the Captain’s account, encrypted the sensor logs for the room for five minutes before and after the set-up. Finally he set the password ‘ G1TT3RB0MB’, and set up the transport. Meanwhile, Alieth had removed the jacket of her uniform and made a temporary sling that clutched Peri's arm to her chest. Without the protection of the garment, only protected by the under-shirt, the Vulcan suppressed a chill.Certainly the temperature of starships was not made to Vulcan standards. Even less so for those like Alieth, a native of one of her homeworld's equatorial regions, near one of the biggest deserts. If it were her choice, the starship would be kept at least at a comfortable 35 °C (95 °F). Alieth: I want you to hold still, okay? I suspect you have broken your ulna, and I do not intend to let the fracture slide. Hold still? Peri’s automatic response to pain was usually the opposite. One of the way she coped was by movement, almost as if she were trying to circumvent the pain, or distract her body from it with motion. Usually, though, she didn’t have to contend with a head that felt like it was a supernova ready to explode. Movement actually made things worse. Greaves: Alright, we’re set. Alieth: At your mark, Wes. Greaves: (Snapping fingers) Mark. And so, as the footsteps echoed down the corridor, with the somnolent night shift rushing to check what was going on, the three JOPA members vanished in a brief swirl of sparks, without leaving behind any trace that they had been there. Except, of course, for the prank. ((Secondary Sickbay, Deck 18, USS Thor)) In the blink of an eye, the three of them appeared in the medical ward. The deck was virtually empty, with only a couple of nurses enjoying a game of poker in a deck on a corner and an engineer who was in observation attempting to sleep in one of the cubicles in the far end, unsuccessfully due to the cold, clean white light that lit up the entire chamber. Alieth: Ok to that biobed with you, and most importantly, do not move that arm. Greaves: Psh, there’s no bone sticking out, she’s probably okay. (Wink). Alieth halted for a second and with a new thought in mind, turned to face the marine. Alieth: Even better, Wes, could you carry her in your arms? Miss Katsim you just hold that arm tightly. He frowned at the Vulcan and looked about. Sure, they were a couple dozen meters from the nearest bed, but it was her arm that was hurt. Not the woman’s legs… still, if she’d hit her head hard enough… Wes was no stranger to the dizzying nausea that accompanied a strong blow to the head. Without further hesitation, he closed the distance to the petite frame of Peri and from her uninjured side, scooped her up in his arms. Cradling her with one arm under her legs and the other under the small of her back, he exhaled with the effort. Peri squeaked, but she really wasn’t in any condition to resist. Pink flew to her cheeks even as the world spun about her. Now it was nausea’s turn to make its appearance and her stomach churned along with everything else. Cringing, she attempted to not let the combination of pain, queasiness, and embarrassment overwhelm her. Once he was standing upright, she was surprisingly light. Greaves: Oh calm down, it’s easy enough. Doctor’s orders anyway. He crossed the room to the nearest biobed and gently set her down on the edge of it. Though that didn’t help any of the stabbing pain or calm her angry stomach, Peri was grateful not to be subject to the rather mortifying position of sack of potatoes any longer. The doctor scanned her meticulously and remained mute for a long time, a time that became as thick as molasses. As the results flickered on the device side screen, she frowned briefly. Alieth: humm She raised her head to look at her friend and shook it slightly. Alieth: There is little to be done, Mister Greaves, a hopeless case. Greaves: How bad is it? Alieth: Apart from a longitudinal fracture in the ulna, I am convinced that we are dealing with a fatal case of an owie. There is nothing to be done, unfortunately, I have run out of doggie plasters. The Vulcan shook her head in feigned grief. Greaves: Good. I’m pretty sure Commander Teller would put us all on permanent groundskeeping duty if he found out a crewmember got seriously injured while pranking the Captain. Alieth: Five minutes of bone regenerator and she will be ready to be back on duty. Good? How was that good? That wasn’t good at all! Granted, her injuries might be ‘minor’ in the grand scheme of things, but that didn’t make things better. Of course she would manage to injure herself. Of course she would manage to make a fool of herself. All she had wanted to do was to rise up to the task given to her, and she couldn’t even fulfill that properly. As the pain faded thanks to the administrations of the miniature Vulcan doctor, Peri had to silently wonder if it was all worth it. [End] ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: E239702A10 Image Collective Minion & First Lieutenant Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 & Ensign Katsim Science Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 M239008AD0
  25. Write a completely different character for a full mission, but developt It fully and give the character a full arc and development is a feat, even more writing his main and 3-4 npcs more? A real feat, even more keeping the high standard of writing expertise (delightful to read), helping to keep the plot in track and being a steady presente OOC. Once more, @Geoffrey Teller displaying all the skills of a future GREAT captain, imho. Good job man!
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