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  1. I really enjoyed reading this ❤️ It's the perfect mixture of professionalism and taking charge of a situation that isn't really going anywhere. If we survive, Aine definitely is one of the people to thank for it _________ ((OOC: I normally try not to go back too far in my overlapping, but I've added in some back narrative to give some context. Didn't change any of my old narrative and it doesn't affect the outcome, just more context.)) ((Engineering, SS Belladonna)) Sherlock: Anyone else's tricorder not working? Of course they weren't. It always seemed as though nothing worked right, especially when right in the middle of a crisis. But that was the life of a Starfleet officer. The highly trained leaders they were had been drilled from day one at the Academy to adapt and overcome. Asta: There’s some sort of interference… Luthas: I didn’t bring one, so no idea. Is it an everythings borked kinda not working or just some things aren’t working kinda deal? That was quite the statement coming from a Marine Captain. Though Aine had barely used one in almost a year and a half, and oddly last time it didn't work either, she at least always carried one. It was tool that could save your life as much as the other tool, a phaser, strapped to her hip. Sherlock: I'm not sure...I'm hardly an engineer. Ideas? ::looking to Renot and Asta:: Renot: Yeah, my tricorder is down too, bah. I’ve always had issues with mine, so take that with a grain of salt… or ten. I mean, it’s kinda important, but we may be able to manage without it. Always had issues? What did that mean? Aine wondered why, if Egil's tricorder always had issues, he didn't just get a new one. She could feel her breathing getting a little deeper. Her lungs were trying to bring in as much oxygen to her blood, trying to get her body to relax. Asta: ::Rocking on their feet:: It could be due to the merging of the warp bubbles… but we should be able to compensate for that. Luthas: I don’t remember that being an effect of tricobalt, beyond the normal radiation stuff. Maybe there’s something extra causing the problem? Renot: I’m not entirely sure on this one. There’s so many things that it could be, honestly. All of them were valid hypotheses. It was the mention of the warp bubble that had Aine worried. Any possible disruption could lead to any number of disasters. From losing transporter pattern signals to dropping below warp three. Sherlock: We'll keep an eye on it, see if this spreads. For right now, it's an annoyance that's just taking away one tool... Asta: I’m worried it’s a leak in the secondary coolant systems. ::They frowned deeply.:: While it’s not critical to keep the warp engines from breaching, the secondary systems play into the impulse drive. Luthas: That’s bad. Renot: Yeah, it is. Why… is it leaking dare I ask? Another slow, deep breath. The words "keep calm" kept repeating in her mind. She honestly didn't care about the "why's" right now, only that the problem existed and needed to be fixed. She felt like everything was moving off the rails. Sherlock: But if not critical to keeping us above Warp 3, it shouldn't be that big an issue ::beat:: right? Asta: That not only makes it much more difficult for us to slow down, if we can’t fix it, but it can release gamma radiation, which will mess with tricorders and scanners – and if we’re not careful mess with your brain. Loss of vision, delirium, hallucinations, headaches, the works. And there it was. They already had a deadly device to deal with, problem one. On a time constraint based on the distance to Betazed, problem two. With now limited tools, problem three. And now...trying not to have their brains melted, problem four. Luthas: Sooo... Renot: To translate, that’s pretty darn bad, yeah. Kinda hard to defuse a bomb when tripping out like you ate some funky mushrooms. The causal nature brought her mind back to Risa. After the destruction of the Resolution, she'd been a part of a group counselling session. She remembers explaining to her crewmates and Captain how one thought would lead to another and how it would quickly spiral out of control. The cycle of blame. She was beginning to feel that way again. It took everything in her to focus and bring the conversation back. Sherlock: ::to Asta:: What do you need from us, Chief? Asta: With scanners down we’ll have to go directly to the impulse core. Also sealed off to all by the engineering core. And if there’s gamma radiation, we’ll be exposed. I have safety gear, we’ll need to suit up just in case and pray we don’t start going crazy on the way down. Luthas: Yeah, don’t want that. So is that something we’ll need to take care of first before the bomb goes off or can it wait? Sherlock: Again, I'm no engineer, but I'd assume if we can't get it fixed, there's a chance we won't make it to defusing the bomb. The ship will be a lifeless missile. Renot: That would be quite correct, yes. In a best case scenario… I’ll spare the details of the worst case. Asta: ? The sigh from the Marine Captain perfectly encompassed Aine's own feelings on the situation, but she wasn't about to show it. They just have to deal with one impossible thing at a time. Luthas: So how many people are you going to need to do whatever? :: He gestured vaguely. :: Cause impulse cores aren’t our :: he pointed between himself and Sherlock :: speciality. Sherlock: We can't send both Engineers there. One of you ::pointing to Renot and Asta:: needs to stay here. If something were to go wrong with the ship, like if that warp bubble starts to collapse, we need someone here who can deal with it. Renot: I mean, we also have the risk of remote detonation, do we not? The person who planted this must know we are here by now. Aine's chin dropped and she looked to the floor. It was her turn to sigh. She could feel it was getting harder to keep it together, something about the situation was bothering her...and it wasn't the bomb nor the radiation. Asta: ? Luthas: So shouldn’t we leave this thing with a babysitter? :: He jerked his thumb at the partially dismantled device. :: Or do you have a way to shut off the engineering area so no one else sneaks in and starts messing with the place? Renot: I can set up those signal jammers round this area to prevent what I mentioned at least. I’m still listening… A small bit of relief, the Ensign took some initiative. One problem down, four more to go. Asta: ? It was decisions like this that every officer feared. You could be sending two people to a particularly nasty death. But there was still a job to do, which if abandoned, would mean the deaths of tens of thousands to billions. Sherlock: Chief, would it be safe to say that you know this ship inside out? Asta: ? Sherlock: So you're most likely to be able to get the impulse drive fixed fastest? Asta: ? Sherlock: Ok. It's my recommendation that Captain Luthas and you proceed with the repair. Luthas: It’s not my area of expertise, but I can follow instructions with the best of them. Also if you need a dongle jury rigged I’m you man. Aine's jaw tightened and a slight twitch of the neck that was her stopping herself from glaring at Renot when she heard what could only be a stifled laugh. Asta: ? Sherlock: Vulcans have a much higher constitution than humans. This is a matter of practicality. We can't afford to lose anyone and this would minimise the risk overall. Asta: ? Luthas: Despite what my charming personality would indicate, I can assure you I am 100% Vulcan. She didn't know exactly what the Captain was saying. What she had said was meant as a condemnation or aspersion, it was simply a statement of physical fact meant to convey that a Vulcan would be more likely to enter that situation with a higher likelihood of survival. Before she could speak, however, the Ensign came barrelling over waving his driver in the air. Renot: You think leaving the two behind who don’t know explosives with the big boom is.. A good idea?! Also hi! Al-Leyan! Not human either! Hmph… Sherlock: ::taking a deep breath:: That's not at all what this is about... Asta: ? Luthas: Anything else we need to know before we split the gang up? Renot: Yes, actually; what is a dongle? And please tell me you aren’t serious about leaving the two most under qualified people alone with this to try and not make it go off?! Sherlock: oOUnder qualified!?Oo Asta/Luthas: ? Renot: On one hand, I get the slight logic of sending one engineer and keeping the other. On the other hand, have we all lost our minds?! With all due respect, I feel like the least qualified space elf to baby sit a bomb. It was too much. Sherlock: Everybody! STOP! This isn't a goddamned democracy! Ensign, stand down! Go over there ::pointing towards the bomb:: and wait! Aine waited for the Ensign to move just out of earshot (if she could keep her voice down at this point he would be). Sherlock: Captain, I don't know how you normally do things in whatever Marine unit you're from, but frankly, you are one of the most indecisive Marine's I've ever served with. And while I can appreciate a Vulcan who's chosen to be different from the others, I will not allow that choice to compromise the mission, ever. Now, I've made a choice. You're going with Chief Asta to repair the radiation leak and you can talk all you want on the way there. But the situation here is out of hand and it will not continue this way. Those are my orders. Asta/Luthas: ? She held her head high as she about faced and made her way towards the core, the bomb, and the apparently panicked Ensign. She'd never once before had to order another officer around and had hoped she wouldn't ever have to. Perhaps things were so different with a space station crew versus the crew of a ship, who knows. But whatever it was, she had to get a handle on it. As she approached Egil, she waved him over towards the bomb. She could see that they had already opened the outer casing. She carefully lifted a dangling piece and examined it. Sherlock: I see you've already exposed the inner workings of the device? Renot: ? Sherlock: ::continuing to examine the piece in her hands:: A bomb like this is nothing more than a circuit. Think of it like wiring for a light. Except at the end of the circuit it goes boom instead of flash. The Ensign was way more qualified than he thought. And she would show him exactly that. Renot: ? Sherlock: When you guys were removing this, did you check for anti-tampering devices? Renot: ? And now she would show him just how qualified she was. Sherlock: We don't know each yet, Ensign. But I was formerly a Chief of Security on two starships. I'm a trained armorer, that includes demolition and explosives. In addition, I Majored in Intelligence at the Academy, so I have training in counter terrorism. This is why, at twenty-four, I was able to become a Chief on a starship. Together, we've got this. Renot: ? tags/TBC Lieutenant Aine Sherlock Tactical Officer StarBase 118 Ops R239712AS0
  2. Another piece in this series. The subtleties are so well written. I'm not sure where @Arys got her info, but boy oh boy does she write an interrogation well! ((Somewhere on Cardassia Prime)) ((Time Index: four years ago)) Dread washed over Ferri as she was returned to the room with the concrete walls and cold light that never even flickered to allow her eyes some rest. It was the room in which she had been left starved, dehydrated, sleep deprived, and alone. But although the room itself was still the same, something had changed. She had hope. A desperate hope, yes, but hope nonetheless, and Ferri clung to it like she did to the PADD Garo had given her, holding onto it as if worried it was going to simply disappear should she loosen her grip. Now once more sitting on her bed, curiosity as to what the PADD contained won over. “A Theory on Freedom” Odd. Ferri hadn’t heard of it before, even though she had always been interested in different works of literature, and even though she, as an arts student in particular, was grateful for having the freedom to pursue her dreams unrestricted. Before she could begin reading, however, something in the room changed, and for a moment, she wasn’t quite sure what it was. Then she realised that, gradually, the lights changed to a warmer hue, and eventually dimmed down to a more comfortable setting. Finally. After days, weeks, perhaps longer? Ferri had lost any perception of how much time had passed, and it was only now that she realised how tired she was. She barely managed to move into a more comfortable position before she fell asleep. Ferri dreamed of better times. She dreamed of her mother, Selen, preparing them breakfast. Them. That were Ferri, her sister Kara, and her father Arla. A happy little family, struggling, but surviving in the ruins of what Cardassia had once been. They didn’t have much, but her mother always managed to put food on the table, and both girls had been too young to notice that only they were the ones eating. Arla worked most evenings, and Selen usually gave them a reason why she wasn’t hungry. One of the staple foods had been Ikri buns. Easy to prepare and versatile, they had usually been filled with whatever leftovers were available at the time. Ferri could almost smell them now. She was so hungry…. Ferri opened her eyes. She wasn’t back home, she was still locked up, but the smell was real. She sat up, not sure how long she had slept, but didn’t have the capacity to worry about that. Her thoughts circled around a singular thing - the scent of food. She frantically looked around the room, before her gaze eventually fell upon the table, expecting her usual limited amount of water, and the nutritional supplement. There was indeed water, a whole glass carafe full of it, but next to it sat the source of the smell - a small plate with several warm Ikri-buns, next to a bowl with pieces of fresh fruit. Tears began to well up in her eyes, and her chest felt like her heart was going to break through her ribcage. Ferri barely dared to touch the meal, afraid it was all just a dream, afraid it would disappear. For minutes she simply stood there, committing every little detail to her memory. The way red juice dripped from pieces kiloran ball fruit, and the exact amount of raja berries. The way the brown crust of the ikri buns had intricate little details on them, artistic additions in the form of dough-formed leafs and ornaments. Eventually she reached, her hand shaking as she touched the still-warm buns. She carefully broke it apart, letting the woody scent of lok cloves and kulek spice fill her nostrils. It was filled with a mixture of Rekel meat and herbs, the richness of the filling complimenting the fluffy dough and crispy crust. Never had anything tasted better. Food and drink disappeared far too quickly, and while delicious, they left Ferri feeling slightly nauseous. Perhaps it would have been wise to eat more slowly, but she didn’t know when next she would receive anything. She was scared that someone would come and take it away again. Sated for the first time in weeks, she looked at the PADD she had been given. Ferri wasn’t sure if she would be in agreement with what was stated therein, but she was fairly certain that Garo had been the one she had to thank for the food, and the least she could do to thank him, was to obey his request. ((Timeskip)) In summary, freedom is a moral concept. Thus, some believe that freedom must be presupposed in order for morality to be possible. In fact, only a free being can choose between good and evil, for only one who is capable of doing so can also assume moral responsibility. Conversely, only a moral being can be free: Freedom is then synonymous with autonomy. In the past few days, Ferri had read the book cover to cover more than once, and had spent the times in between thinking about whether she believed the author to be correct, and what it meant. Ferri had always liked being free. The Cardassian Union before the war had always been portrayed as harsh and horrible, and as what had caused their downfall in the first place. The horrible crimes they had committed on Bajor were attributed to an uncaring government, and not to the Cardassian people. But was that really so true? She was thinking of her sister Kara, who had been a mere fourteen years of age when three strangers had lured her away from the well-lit street, never to be seen again. If freedom allowed them the choice between good and evil, what did it say about her species that it seemed that evil was chosen so lightly? It were those thoughts that occupied her mind. A mind that was now was getting clearer and clearer as it wrapped itself around the concept that, perhaps, freedom wasn’t something they deserved. Meals were provided twice a day, and Ferri could feel her body recovering from the ordeal of the past weeks, and naturally she wanted to thank Garo. Before meeting him, she had been sure they would let her starve. But she wouldn’t push the issue - no, she would be good and waited patiently, day after day, for the door to open. And Eventually it was time - the man opening the door was the same who had brought her to Garo before, and Ferri got up before he could even bark and order. Despite being weak on her feet from a lack of exercise and movement, she followed quickly and willingly, and eventually found herself in front of the door to Garo’s door, which opened upon her arrival. Garo: Ah, Ferri. How are you feeling today? Garo smiled as he settled his gaze upon Ferri. He, however, did not motion for her to sit, and simply regarded her. Emlott: I…. I’m good.. ::she paused, then hastily added:: thank you… for the food. It felt good to talk to someone, to be spoken to, and it felt good how he nodded at her in approval. Garo: You are welcome, Ferri. Did you read the books? Ferri nodded quickly, not wanting to disappoint, which elicited another smile from the man. Garo: You did good. But let’s talk about that later - I have something I think you will like. He moved to the sofa, picked up a bag. He handed it to Ferri, opening it for her so she could look inside to find a set of fresh clothes and soft towels, kept inviting pastel colors, and all of them wonderfully scented and soft. There were some personal hygiene products too. She looked up at Garo who had observed her reaction carefully, and now explained: Garo: There is a hygiene chamber down the hallway, let me show you. Take as much time as you need. Ferri hugged the bag to her excitedly, once more very aware of how disgusting she looked and smelled. She followed him out of the office and a few doors down the hallway to a hygiene chamber - a simple room with a steam bath, a mirror and a basin. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Ferri had been allowed in the past weeks. Garo: I trust you. I know you’ll come back afterwards. Emlott: ::nodding:: I will, I promise. The door closed, allowing Ferri privacy as she stepped into the bath, letting the water wash off the grime that had accumulated, and the steam caress her sore skin. She brushed her greasy and matted hair and put it into a tidy braid, and out on the new clothes that were smaller than the ones she currently owned, but fit her perfectly. The girl looking at her from the other side of the mirror was thin, tired, but she looked like a person again. Ferri hurried to step out of the hygiene chamber and into the hallway. She was about to turn to return to Garo’s office, when something caught her eye - there was a door on the opposite end of the corridor, and it open. She could catch only a glimpse, but itt seemed to lead into a garden of sorts, perhaps the area she had seen from the window of Garo’s office. To freedom. She could smell the grass from here, and almost feel the warming light of the sun that beckoned her to step outside, if only for a moment. She took a step towards it, then another one…. And then she hesitated. She had promised Garo that she would return. He had done so much for her - she couldn’t disappoint him now. She wouldn’t be ungrateful. And so, she turned around, away from the green and the sunlight, returning to Garo’s office instead. TBC ***************** Ferri Emlott Cardassian Visitor Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4
  3. There are some people who just blow you away with their writing, and @Nella Noxwyn is definitely one of these people. Nella is our newest Security Ensign and essentially just fresh out of Academy - which makes the sim even more impressive. Lean back, read something cool, leave a nice comment ❤️ ((Evac-10, SS Belladonna)) Ensign Noxwyn hadn't said much since the beam-over to the SS Belladonna. For all the verve and vivacity she showed at the Academy and on the bridge of the USS Narendra, she increasingly felt a growing disunion with those earlier feelings—reality didn't care; the evacuation carried on. It was inexperience, perhaps, that allowed her mind to wander up a blind alley. Inexperience caused Nella to blurt out something she half-remembered about insisting on “taking point” for Commander DeVeau's team. The exact words she'd uttered were the half she didn't remember, but resounded in memory like something plagiarized from the Academy Security manual. The half she did remember was the palpable sting of deep embarrassment in her Iotian heart that hadn't subsided. She had been too formal, perhaps too emotional, and the other officers definitely seemed to notice this. There was a slew of comments about not coming aboard blasting with phasers; that was never her plan. To a security officer fresh from the Academy, “taking point” meant to assume the most exposed position in a military formation. It was her duty ((not her call of duty)) to protect the officers with her—especially if they were Narendra's XO and Chief Medical Officer! Nella feared she'd been misunderstood, but knew better than to argue semantics in that moment with her superiors; and that was the moment that rendered her demure. She hadn't spoken much or been lively since. Doubt. The feeling was overwhelming and spreading through her, virulently. Nella Noxwyn had long imagined herself a member of Starfleet. Multitudinous hours of dreaming spent on creating this moment in her mind's eye—her first active service mission as a commissioned Starfleet officer. Now it was finally here, and Ensign Nella Noxwyn was in doubt. oO Well, ain't that I'm feeling so swell about it now . . . Oo She'd left most of her focus in the transporter room, and she must have lost the rest during the beam-over. Was this actually happening? Was she dreaming? Was her life-long ambition fading out of view? Was she blowing her career already? Was she simply exhausted? Could she afford to be exhausted? No. Absolutely not! The crew was counting on her to focus; yet she couldn't focus. Why?! Whatever the reason for her lack of focus, it was needed now more than water in a desert and proved just as elusive. Conversations between the two other officers continued around her as she milled through habit, just as she'd done by rote during sleepless morning drills at the Academy. She was already leaning fully on routine and habit to carry her through. Her mind was elsewhere, and she was lost. This wasn't just because her body was broken into particles and transferred to the Belladonna's lounge. It was the characteristics of the lounge itself that transported her memory back to Sigma Iotia II; specifically, to Beamtown: her home. More specifically, to the Beamtown Avenue Cabaret—her mother's nightclub ,where Nella had lived and worked all her life. No laws prevented minors from tending bar in Beamtown, so she'd done that, and just about everything else involved in running such an establishment, at some stage growing up. It was the closest she'd felt to home since she'd left. She'd left to join Starfleet. She'd left to join Starfleet because the Beamtown Avenue Cabaret was bombed in a turf war. Now, she was in a lounge aboard the SS Belladonna, wearing a Starfleet dress uniform she hadn't removed since her graduation ceremony earlier that day, in order to assist the command crew of Starbase 118 in diffusing a bomb. Too many coincidences. Too many similarities. She was being haunted. Her mind went full circle, but her body moved by routine alone. Scanning this, nodding that, occasionally verbalizing a short response to the other officers, but not interacting much. They were discussing everything between them, and she keenly felt the slack she offered for them to hold taught. When the officers seemed to prompt Nella for input, she only drew blank—a nod, a “yes sir”. No focus. None in the turbolift after they'd left the lounge. None in the Evac point, where they were now. Ensign Nella wanted to be here. Nella wanted to be elsewhere. Ensign Nella wanted to be here. Nella wanted to be elsewhere. The two rival gangs in her head squared off. Ensign Nella's mind snapped back to the moment, and the voice of Dr.Trovek: Trovek: They are beginning with Evac-10 to Evac-15, the evacuation points in the center. My suggestion is to go to the passenger quarters belonging to those evacuation points and wait for the update on who is missing. ::she paused:: But it's just a suggestion, ma'am. oO Great Montgomery Scott! How long was I out?!! -- Focus, Nellie! You remember more about the plan than you think! C'mon! Focus! Get back in action!! Oo DeVeau: And it’s a good one, so no point in ignoring it. but…I think I have a way to make getting updates a little easier and quicker. Trovek: You do? Noxwyn: How's that, Commander? DeVeau seemed to keep that secret to herself. DeVeau: The entrance is just down here. Commander DeVeau led them along a corridor, to a large bay. From what Noxwyn recalled of the Belladonna's schematics, this was probably a large recreational module or artificial biosphere. Instead, a set of wide doors opened up and inside the room were the evacuees; some of them, but some of them was a lot of them. DeVeau: Stay here. I’ll be back. Trovek: Sure... Commander DeVeau became as poise incarnate, and used her command experience and authority to silently part the crowd before her, creating an organized path to her intended target. These people knew at this point they were being evacuated, and they obviously recognized that Commander DeVeau would be the one taking charge. Nella broke from her amazement at this to do her job, which was to keep watch over DeVeau and Trovek. That meant one eye to split between the two other officers, and left Nella's other eye to indistinctly survey the crowd. DeVeau returned almost as quickly as she had left—or so it seemed to Nella. That was just as well. The room had an odor of sweat, stress hormones from a cocktail of species, and stale air. Thousands of quiet private conversations coalesced into a loud gurgle of indecipherable speech. It would be good to get this crowd on the move. DeVeau: Okay, got a list, and linked my triPADD with the ship’s manifest. When people are reported missing, it’ll come up automatically and we can go hunting. It’ll save some time too. ::Stepping back out of the evacuation area, Commander DeVeau held the device so that the other officers could see it clearly:: DeVeau: And here’s our first list. Let’s get started. Commander DeVeau turned and led the way on the search for the first missing passenger. Dr. Trovek had obviously been preparing extensively for this plan and was reciting important information. Nella felt more focus now; she was regaining control. Trovek: Our first group seems to be a whole family missing - at least their last names - Onagh - implies that. Can we locate them via the ship's computer? oO Onagh. . . Oo DeVeau: response Trovek: Good Idea. The Commander and the Doctor led the way; so much for Nella taking point. What a palooka, she'd been! This wasn't at all how she wanted to perform on her first mission, but maybe her first career lesson was in seeing so many people needing help—so many people in a danger they weren't aware of. So many people on the Narendra dedicated to helping. So many more people on Starbase 118 and other vessels supporting the effort. Far more people in danger on Betazed—this wasn't about her at all! Perhaps in that moment, what remained of Cadet Noxwyn ceased to exist. This wasn't training. This was definitely not a drill. Ensign Noxwyn was on duty. Nella kept alert as the team was led through a complex of corridors and eventually ended up in one of the more 'luxurious' areas of the ship. There were plants and fresh flowers that Nella had never seen before—not that she had ever seen many. Beamtown was more like a massive enclosed dome than a city, as it was located on Sigma Iotia II's polar continent, near the planet's true magnetic north. This room was captivating and pleasant, in strict contrast to the nature of their mission. The doctor's tricorder chimed as it detected a reading. Trovek: Guess this is a lot easier than we thought. DeVeau: response Nella then received a note from her own tricorder—a nearby wall showed an unusual zone of heat from somewhere within. Nella cautiously approached the wall and felt it with a gloved hand. The wall was warm in a single spot... warm, but on the edge of being too hot. Perhaps it was a component of the systems used to maintain the plant life in this area, perhaps it was something far more hazardous. Nella wasn't sure; she wasn't an engineer; she wasn't a botanist; she was a security officer, and her job was to be suspicious. Noxwyn: Commander, Doctor. I'm gettin' odd thermal readings from this wall! It's . . . hot. Can you make anything of it? Nella may have set herself up for another embarrassment, or, she may have found something pertinent to the mission. She was so fresh from the Academy she wasn't sure. That's why experienced officers—some of the fleet's best, in fact—were with her, to make that determination. Nella felt less alone now, and just as well. People, many people, were counting on her to get back in action! Trovek/DeVeau: response TAG/TBC -- Ensign Nella Noxwyn Security Officer Starbase 118 Ops / USS Narenedra NCC-26595 O239906NN2
  4. OOC: The latest in a series from @Arys chronicling the past of her NPC, Ferri. I'm really enjoying this storyline! IC: ((Somewhere on Cardassia Prime)) ((Time Index: four years ago)) Even in her dazed state, Ferri noticed that the room behind it was very different, and reminded her of a teacher's office, kept in warm natural colours. There was a desk, a shelf with PADDs, and two sofas facing each other, with a low table in between. The large window allowed a view into a luscious garden and bathed the room in sunlight. It was comfortably warm here, and the scent of freshly brewed Redleaf tea filled the room. Garo: Ezak. Unhand her. Ferri had been so taken in by the room that she hadn't noticed the man who had sat by the sofa and was now making his way towards them. He was tall, dressed in a neat and expensive-looking tunic, and wore a frown of disapproval. It took the young woman a moment to realise that said frown was aimed at the other man, Ezak, and not at Ferri. Ezak nodded and let go of her, and a moment later he had left through the door that had brought them here. The man's sharp gaze softened as he regarded Ferri, his voice calm and almost comforting as he spoke. Garo: Ferri, is it? Come on, have a seat. ::he motioned towards the sofa:: My name is Garo. She nodded, though not out of agreement. Ferri didn't want to talk to the strange man. Ferri had tried to talk, but they had left her in that room for days or weeks - she didn’t know. She neither knew where she was, nor how long she had spent in maddening silence, with huger and thirst gnawing at every fibre of her being. Garo seemed to notice her hesitation and reached for her hand. He didn’t pull her, but instead, he gently but firmly led her to the sofa and sat her down. The material was some kind of leather, cool and soft to the touch. Here in this pristine room, Ferri became aware of how disgusting she was. She hadn't showered ever since she arrived here. Her hair was matted and greasy, and her wrinkled clothes hung from her thin frame. She was ashamed, and just about ignored the need to apologise for being so disgusting. Garo: Do you know why you are here, Ferri? His voice was soft as he spoke, and Ferri observed him making his way to the replicator sitting by the side of his desk. Emlott: Because... of Irrot and Nal. Those were the names of the two men Ferri had killed, and she wasn't at all surprised that the authorities knew. She had never planned to get away with it. She had never planned for them to die. Garo: That is correct, Ferri. ::to the replicator:: Irmok-tea, sweetened. Not too hot. A moment later a cup of bitter-tasting liquid materialized, and Garo carried it over to Ferri, setting it down in front of her before taking a seat opposite of her. Garo: When did you decide to kill those two men? There was no accusation in his voice. Emlott: I didn't.. I.. She reached for the mug, wrapping her hands around it, and soaking up its warmth. It was an acquired taste, but it was something to drink, and despite its temperature, she gulped it down greedily. Garo waited until she had finished before he spoke again, still calmly, a gentle correction rather than admonishment. Garo: Please don't lie to me. Emlott: I didn't mean to kill them… I just wanted information… Garo: What happened? He waited, and as Ferri did not reply, he got up and crossed the room to get something from his desk. Upon his return, he placed a small metal box on the table between them, and opened it. Garo: You used one of these, didn't you? Ferri nodded. The chip-sized modulator was referred to as an Enhancer. Once attached, it was designed to target an area of the brain that contained not only the masterplan of a Cardassian's physiology, but also stored their deepest anxieties. Garo: What do you know about them? Emlott: … I know they are called Enhancers. I.. ::she swallowed hard. She had seen the device in action - would Garo use it on her?:: I… know it targets the primal nexus with neutrinos that mimic stimuli requesting information for repair after an injury. It causes panic attacks. They... they are torture devices. The Obsidian Order used them to gain information. Garo: How did you hear about them? Emlott: They were mentioned in a history course I took. She hadn’t even liked the teacher much, or paid particularly much attention to the class. The idea of an Enhancer had stuck with her because of a joke a friend had made - something about using one to figure out if her partner was cheating. Ferri had laughed it off, and yet, she had remembered it when she was in need of a tool to gather information. Garo: And how did you get one? Emlott: I… had a friend, his family owns a small collection of items from before the war. Books and… some maps… paintings. He told me how to get in touch with someone collecting and selling those items. I got it from there. He responded with a frown, and reached for his own cup of tea, savouring the taste before replying. Garo: Could you just purchase it? It must have been expensive. Emlott: I... stole it. Garo raised furrowed his brows, and for a moment he seemed almost impressed at the statement. For a moment it seemed like he was going to inquire further, but then his line of questioning returned to the issue at hand. Garo: What happened then? Ferri once more remained silent. She had gone through the events of that evening again and again and again, and she felt guilty for not regretting what she had done. She had sought out Nal and Irrot, the two men associated with the disappearance of her sister Kara. After almost a year of preparing, she had managed to circumvent their house's security systems and tried to force them to tell her what they had done to the girl. But Enhancers were a tool of ‘last resort', when other means of sensory destabilisation had failed. In the hands of someone not trained to use them, their use could easily result in a brain bleed. Garo: I will make a guess. You used them, and those men died. But you didn't want that. You wanted information about your sister. Emlott: ::nodding:: Y-... yes... Ferri felt tears welling up in her eyes, and was too tired to hold them back. She barely noticed Garo getting up, until he sat down next to her, and to her surprise, his voice was compassionate as he spoke. Garo: Did you find out anything? Emlott: They-... Irrot just... screamed and... I tried to do it better the next time, but Nal said he couldn't remember.... and... then he started crying but it was blood and.. and.. Garo: So it was all for nothing. ::he sighed, and then added:: Is that why your father and his wife didn't want to visit you here? Do you think he is disappointed in you? With that, Garo voiced what Ferri had always feared. Her father, Arla, had become distant after Kara’s disappearance, and he blamed her for giving the younger of the two girls the impression that taking a skimmer to visit her sister was okay. Had she not done so, Kara wouldn’t have run away from home. If she had not done so, those men would never have found her alone. Kara would still be alive. Ferri held her breath, wrapping her arms around herself, and squeezed her eyes shut. It hurt. Thinking about it hurt so much that she felt her very being breaking apart. She didn’t see Garo regarding her thoughtfully, and then nodding to himself as if a decision had been made. But she felt him pulling her into an embrace that gave her the stability she so much needed. Garo: I understand. I’m sorry you didn’t find out anything. I know what it’s like to lose family. He held Ferri, despite the fact that she was dirty and disgusting, despite the fact that she had hurt people, despite the fact that she had a year to prepare, and still failed to surface any information about Kara. Garo allowed her to calm down, before he inquired further. Garo: Her disappearance was a year ago. have you been looking for her all that time? At first, Ferri didn’t answer, but after further encouragement, she wiped her tears away. Emlott: Yes. Garo: I am curious. How did you get into Nal’s apartment? They had an alarm system if I recall correctly. Emlott: I … circumvented it. I looked for the blueprints… they were… new buildings, some still for purchase. The… one underneath it… it was empty and.. Garo: Did you have help? Ferri shook her head. Anyone who might have helped her, did so unknowingly. She didn’t want them to get into trouble. Garo: That is impressive. ::he sighed:: I would like to hear more about that, but I fear that's all the time I have for you right now. Ferri’s eyes widened. Was he sending her back into that horrible room, to rot there for days, forgotten, with only her own voice for company? Garo seemed to guess what she was thinking. He let out another sigh, and took her hand. Garo: I will do what I can for you, Ferri, as long as you cooperate. I can speak to Ezak to not be so harsh to you. Garo got up, and walked over to the shelf with PADDs on it. He picked one out, looked at it, placed it back, and got another one. Garo: ::approaching Ferri and handing her the PADDs:: Here, something to read. They are my favourite works of literature, I would be curious to learn how you like them. As if called by an unsaid command, the door opened and once more Ezak stepped inside, wearing the same sneering disdain on his features. Garo: I’ve decided to allow Ferri some books to read. Ezak grunted a ‘As you wish’ and grabbed Ferri’s arm, pulling her to her feet once more. Garo: ::to Ferri:: Be good. It might take a while, but we will talk again as soon as I can arrange it. Ferri just about managed a weak nod before she was dragged out of the door. TBC Ferri Emlott Cardassian Visitor Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4
  5. Absolutely loving this flashback scene from @Vitor S. Silveira I know you worked really hard on this, and it definitely shows ❤️ Keep up the great work ((USS Narendra, Astrophysics)) Tito narrowed down the passengers list in search of the saboteur. But with enough names to still work on he called in another Intelligence Officer to assist. When Lieutenant Aristren joined him Tito stood by her side as they walked out and headed to the nearest turbolift. Tito: There is a bomb on a passenger cruise liner. I was tasked with screening the fifty passengers that boarded lastly to see if any of them might be a saboteur. I have narrowed it down to twenty two and I was counting on your expertise so we can flush him, or them out. Aristren: May I ask what criteria you used to reduce the number of suspects? Tito: I cross linked their data with criminal files, associations to Terra Prime, Intelligence reports, you know. The works. Also sidelined the non humans without any criminal or suspected activities. And children obviously. The Lieutenant nodded. Aristren: I am however wondering if it is wise to exclude non-humans. On what grounds have you decided to do so? They entered the turbolift. Tito was surprised by her question. Tito: That is obvious considering Terra Prime is an extremist pro-human group. Aristren: There will be more than one way for Terra Prime to convince an individual, or several, to serve them. Most species are easily convinced to commit crimes if their families are in danger, going as far as to cause the death of billions. Lieutenant Aristren made a good point. The fact that she pointed to a possible flaw in his work, hand in hand to being a Rodulan, made Tito react, even if he was trying his best to shield his thoughts. oO Thank you for questioning the work I have done. Oo Realizing he let the thought cross his mind he added in a cold voice. Tito: I took an educated guess. It isn’t easy to scrutinise fifty passengers in an hour and half. She gave another nod as the turbolift kept going to its destination. The slip of his mind reminded him he was thought to secure his mind. That was why he wasn’t fond of telepaths nowadays. ((Flashback, Stardate 238812.29)) ((USS Stargazer, Vetras quarters)) Vetras: ::exasperated:: You're not focusing, Vitor. Vitor opened his eyes and shook his head. He and Vetras had been dating for nearly a month. Being a Cairn her telepathic abilities were uncommon. And for the untrained mind, especially to a human one, it could be dangerous. Tito: I am tired. I know I need to learn to shield my mind from you but can't we do it tomorrow? Vetras stood up from her couch where they were both sitting. Her metallic tone, the result of her voice enhancer, was quite unpleasant. Vetras: Your impossible Vitor. Vitor stood up and opened his arms. Tito: Really? I mean you taught me the basics. Why do I need to reinforce my mind? She turned and began gesturing. Tito was still learning sign language from her and only picked up a few words. The fact she reverted to sign language meant she was getting annoyed. Tito: Can you slow down? I can’t follow you at that speed. And what do you mean by losing control? Vetras stepped near him and looked up. She was considerably smaller than Vitor, something he always found cute in her. Vetras: If I am intimate with someone I am not very careful. Vitor narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. Tito: Intimate? ::He let the word sink in:: Oh… ::he began to realise what she meant:: OH ::He blushed:: Oh…. K ::He said sheepishly:: Vetras smiled and stepped closer to him, caressing his cheek. Vetras: You are so cute when your dumb. Vitor didn’t really know what to say, he leaned down, held her tightly and kissed her. Letting his thoughts speak for him. oO Then I have extra motivation for training. Oo ((End flashback)) Returning to the present he wondered what of that memory Lieutenant Aristren caught. Rodulans were also powerful telepaths. He shrugged that thought off as they arrived on deck one. ((USS Narendra, Bridge)) The Commodore greeted them as they entered the bridge Taybrim: Thank you both for coming. Tito: We are at your service Commodore. Aristen: ? Giving a nod, he gestured to the mostly empty bridge. Taybrim: Both the bridge itself and the ready room can be locked down with a level 5 security field. Your choice. I trust who remains on the bridge to have the same clearances you do. Tito only noticed the helmsman so he nodded. Tito: Then we can put it in place on the bridge, some of the data I have been using are sensitive and better safe than sorry Aristen: ? The Commodore looked at Lieutenant Aristren for a moment longer. Tito wondered if he also had something about telepaths, but truth be told he was Betazoid so not one of his favourites either. His mind slipped back a second time as he let out one thought. oO Amateurs. Oo ((Flashback, Stardate 239010.17)) ((USS Lexington, Tito and Vetras quarters)) Vitor entered his quarters with three PADDs in hand. He knew Vetras would be upset, but he still had some “homework” to do. He was greeted by her voice that came from the couch. Vetras: Raise your shields. He couldn’t see her, most likely because she was curled down on it. And that was her safety warning. He shrugged and tossed away the PADDs at the work desk, slowly stepping inside. In his mind he began building a wall, something that he was used to by now. After all, they have been together for two years now. And expecting their first child. He smiled as he turned around the couch to face her. Vetras was curled in a blanket, filled with pink unicorns, something Vitor introduced her to, much to his regret. He bent over and kissed her forehead as he passed his hand gently by her extended belly. Tito: Is Paris giving you a hard time? Vetras didn’t reply. Not in words. He felt her thoughts reaching him. He felt the sadness at feeling useless, her unwillingness to keep up with the forced rest she was ordered. And her boredom. And her concerns over him and Paris. And how she felt ugly and fat and tired. All this in feelings, images, thoughts that could be his own. He smiled and only let one thing cross his mind. Love. Vetras smiled back and gesture in sign language for him to sit as she raised herself Vitor nodded and sat down. She curled around him, holding him tightly. Pulling her blanket she sighs. Vitor smiled, even if she was now over his lap and he could hardly move. He kissed the top of her head. Tito: You are the most beautiful pregnant Cairn in the Universe. Vetras again replied in his mind, and Vitor raised an eyebrow as he saw the Moba fruit. Tito: If you let me up I will replicate it for you. This time she spoke. Vetras: Not replicated, the real thing. And you stay. Tito: But then I can’t go and search for it. Vetras: You're the First Officer. Find a way. Tito raised an eyebrow, but he just shrugged. It wasn't the first time he had to deal with her cravings. He tapped his combadge to open a comline. If anyone had any Bajoran fruit it would be their Chief Science Officer. Tito: =/\= Tito to Lieutenant Kara Kara: =/\= Kara here, what can I do for you Commander? Tito: =/\= I need a favour, do you have by any chance some fresh Moba fruit? It’s for my wife Kara: =/\= I might. Tito felt Vetras embarrassing him in his mind. He felt her anticipation for the Moba fruit, and he was also starting to crave for it. But her hold was getting tighter. And hurtful Tito: You're squeezing me. Kara: =/\= Excuse me? Vitor rolled his eyes at the fact the comline was open. Tito:=/\= Vetras is sleeping on top of me. She is dreaming Kara: =/\= ::Laughing:: You should have picked a Bajoran wife. We only sneeze when pregnant. And that’s really cute. I will see what I have here. Tito:=/\= Thank you. Kara: =/\= But don't think you're not paying for this Commander. Vitor smiled and kissed the top of Vetras head. Tito: =/\= I know, just get it for me please. Tito out. As the comline closed he felt Vetras projecting the recollections of their wedding day in his mind. He held her more tightly and closed his eyes as they merged in thoughts. ((End flashback)) Tito returned the next second to the present. He realised the memories of the telepathic skills of Vetras confronted with those of the Commodore or the Lieutenant was just another excuse for him. An excuse to not work with them, not like them. But they were dealing with a group who would kill his daughter if she was alive now. A group that targeted human hybrids. So he fought to push back all the feelings and bitterness to get the work done. Taybrim: With the timing of the bomb placement and the checks upon departure from Outpost 411A, the saboteur was onboard upon launch from 411, and had to chance to disembark. Nor are there any indications on any scan that any sort of escape pod was launched. So whoever planted that bomb is still on board. Possibly several someones. Tito went on to a free console and raised the security, to the level the Commodore suggested. Tito: I concur. I have screened out a few on the list. ::He looked at Lieutenant Aristren.:: Although I might not have been as thorough as I thought. Do you wish to add anything Lieutenant? Aristen: ? Taybrim: Please, tell me what you have found. He pulled up the fifty passengers list and to its side the search result. Tito: So far I think these twenty eight are clear, from the remaining twenty two I found that these three have missing data. Aristen/Taybrim: ? He nodded and pulled up an enhanced image of each Tito: So besides the missing details, this one might be connected to Terra Prime. He flagged the one he meant and his picture pushed to the side as the search results appeared next to it Tito: I found a connection to a company that had a partner once that was TP. Aristen/Taybrim: ? TAG/TBC Lt. J. G. Vitor R.S.Tito Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 O238907VS0
  6. So.... first of all, it's really great to have you back @Arturo Maxwell ❤️ I adore how well written this is, with a perfect build-up to the reveal of the prisoner. I also think I've never read of any character more in need of counselling than my girl Hatfield 🙃 ((Location: Somewhere at the edge of the Delroth System.)) ((Timestamp: Several Months Ago.)) Nova-class Surveyor; USS Meili. Nova-class Surveyor; USS Grand Canyon-B. Nova-class Surveyor; USS Ingvar. Horizon-class Research Science Vessel; USS Blue Horizon. Luna-class Explorer; USS Heliodora. Odyssey-class Explorer; USS Mayoko (Task Force Flag). Prometheus-class Heavy Cruiser; USS Traviel. Olympic-class Medical Vessel; USS Eugene Roe. Hatfield had watched as the vessels that made up the Starfleet formation listed in Fleet Traffic as TaskForce 288 had streaked away one after the other. Her own vessel was cloaked, powered down and drifting at sufficient distance to be undetectable to the Federation vessels as they departed the system. Satisfied that all had departed, she exited the bridge and made for the interrogation suite on the deck directly below her private chambers. Her stilettos clicked on the deck as she walked, echoed by the thumping footsteps of her two giant Gorn bodyguards. Officers and crew scrambled out of her way and saluted as she prowled the corridors to her destination. The doors hissed open and she stepped inside, casting her eyes over the half-naked and beaten prisoner that was shackled to a stained slab. At forty-five degrees the slab faced leftwards relative to the door, and the prisoner turned his head at her arrival. It was all he could move, shackled as he was at limbs, waist and throat. Prisoner: I'm guessing you're no the maid? His eyes were mismatched and he spoke with a delightful Scottish accent that in a different life would have turned her knees to jelly. A different life. One where she had enjoyed a glittering career and was damn good at her job. Hatfield: You are very observant. No, I am not the maid. The prisoner tried to flex his wrists a little to ease the discomfort of his restraints. She knew it was a fruitless exercise as her two interrogators were very thorough in their work. The two women were stood off to the side waiting with a trolley of fearsom implements sat between them. There was also a third member of the crew who held a recording device in his hands. Prisoner: Then who are you, and what do you want? She smiled. It was a cruel smile that chilled blood and shredded nerves. She rested her fists on her hips as she stood before the shackled man. Hatfield: I am Commander Vivienne Hatfield, and you are going to help me with something. You are going to help me orchestrate the death of Commodore Sal Taybrim. But first, you are going to help me shatter his spirit and heart entirely. His response was a wide-eyed stare. She smiled again. Her orders forbade her from killing the man herself, but the way she saw things that didn't extend to setting him up to be killed by someone else. Nor did it mean she couldn't tear him apart in other ways, nor inflict pain and death upon his senior officers. Her current scheme would be one such way. Prisoner: I will no! She laughed. It was a laugh full of sick humour, laced with a subtle tinge of restrained madness. Her emerald eye blazed as she pointed at her interrogators. Hatfield: Oh, but you shall. She stepped forwards, leaning over him so they were almost touching lips. Closing her eye, she took a deep breath before smiling and staring into his eyes. Her voice was a bare whisper. Hatfield: You see, I'm going to have you tortured. It will be slow, and agonising and you are going to pray for the release of your own death. I am going to record the entire process, and transmit it to starbase one eighteen for the viewing pleasure of that infuriating redhead. ::She paused, planting a soft yet fierce and lingering kiss upon the prisoners lips before standing upright again.:: Thank you for your assistance. She turned to face the crewman with the recorder, before nodding. Waiting a moment until signalled by the crewman, Hatfield crossed her arms. Hatfield: Commodore Sal Taybrim, I do hope you haven't forgotten me because I will never forget you. ::She turned her head slightly to emphasise the scarred side for a moment.:: I have a message for you. She stepped aside to reveal the shackled prisoner and beckoned to the interrogators. They stepped forwards, light glinting from the horrific tools of their trade. Hatfield smiled at the recorder, and as she turned to walk away her departing words were punctuated by near-maniacal laughter. Hatfield: Scream for me, Mr Maxwell. Scream! ~fin~ Commander Vivienne Hatfield. Former OC, USS Valeria. Former Fleet Liason, House Kravzo'ch. Simmed by; Henry Maxwell. Civilian. Starbase 118 Operations. O239311AM0
  7. I do so love a good bit of character drama and set up, and a juicy promise of story to come. Nice opening @Lt Aine Olive Sherlock! ((OOC: This is a setup for a series that will take place next shore leave, but since the impetus starts with Aine's message to him, I figured it was an appropriate time to post it.)) ((Diplomatic Offices, USS Glenn)) Mel had always been career focused. To the point that when he graduated from the Academy, he'd split up with his Academy sweetheart. His family was always goal oriented and didn't let things like feelings and emotions stand in their way. It was a bad habit he himself had picked up. And at times, even regretted. It wasn't until a year ago when he'd decided to surprise her, maybe hoping she'd gotten over it, on Deep Space 224. It was ultimately a mistake. What started as a small confrontation transitioned to a peaceful drink which turned into an emotion charged lashing he'd received from her, and rightfully so. He'd respected her privacy so he didn't even know what had transpired. As for himself, he was devastated. More for her than for himself though. But he never got the chance to tell her. He'd let his emotions get the best of him and when he went to confront her again, this time to apologize, the simple mistake of grabbing her by the arm ended up with a Vulcan grabbing him by the neck. Next thing he knew, he was in sickbay. Between then and now, he determined it was best to leave her be. It was what she wanted otherwise he'd have heard from her. He figured she'd moved on. He heard the occasional news from the Resolution, including its destruction. He knew for sure she'd be angry to hear from him then. Her move and rise in rank and position on the Excalibur, he was proud of her, but didn't dare tell her. And of course it made it to him that she'd transferred to Ops. Which made it all the more shocking when his console told him a holo message had come through for him from Aine. He queued up the message and there she was. Her hair was pulled up and secured tightly to her head. Gold collar tight to her neck. And that jacket, just a little loose as she always wore it. He got nervous, as if she were really there. Half afraid she'd reach right through the screen and punch him. But then the recording started and her voice. Something about it seemed nervous itself, almost shakey. And now he was worried. Sherlock: =/\= Hi. I'm not exactly sure why I'm doing this... =/\= As he listened to her entire message, he was both relieved to hear from her, but rattled by how scared she seemed. In all the time they got to know each other years ago, Aine had never been one to say she was afraid. Sure he knew there were times she was, but that was just because he knew her well. But show it outwardly? That wasn't her. Sherlock: =/\= Anyways, I just wanted to send you this message. You know, just in case. =/\= He sat, arms crossed, for a minute pondering what all this meant. She didn't need his help, after all, she was posted to a starbase, what was a diplomatic officer on the Glenn going to help with. He knew he'd have to wait however long whatever she was doing and hope she came out the otherside alright. But now, he was just anxious. Martinson: Computer, list current fleet deployments out of StarBase 118. Computer: Unable to list current deployments. Martinson: Why? Computer: That information is currently classified. ((Timeskip, a few minutes later, Bridge, USS Glenn)) The turbolift ride to the bridge seemed long despite there not being anyone else in it. Mel went over and over all these possibilities of what Aine's message could mean. And with no way to get in contact with her, the only way to find out would be to get to where she was posted and wait for her to return there. Not an ideal tactic considering the outcome of his last surprise visit. Now the question was: how? When the lift doors open, his face immediately went from worried to his normal, confident, grin. He walked past a couple crewman saying hi and giving them a customary pat on the shoulder. The crew of the Glenn was tight and he didn't want to give any indication he was distracted, and being a trade negotiator, he had plenty of practice the last five years. He approached the Captain's Ready Room and signaled his request to enter. Monroe (Captain): Enter. Mel stepped in confidently. He approached one of the chairs opposite the Captain and swung a leg over the back of it and took a seat before being signalled to. Martinson: Captain ::beat:: I've come to discuss an urgent matter with you. Monroe: Oh? Martinson: ::leaning in close and clasping his hands together on the desk:: The Glenn's next shore leave. Captain Monroe seemed only half amused. She set her PADD down and leaned back in her chair, giving the hem of her uniform a tug before crossing her arms. Monroe: Go on. Martinson: Trinity Sector. Monroe: Trinity? Martinson: Yeah, think about it. StarBase 118. New Scotland just a shuttle ride away. Romulan refugees. Vulcans seeking reunification. Klingons ::beat:: being Klingons. The place is a melting pot! And I've never been and I'm sure the majority of the crew hasn't either. Captain Monroe's eyes narrowed slightly. She knew there was something more. But she also knew she'd have to play the game. Monroe: You know, Mel, you've served under me for five years now. Martinson: ::giving a tilted nod:: I have. Monroe: And not once, in all that time, have you ever suggested where we go for shore leave. Why now? Still leaning on the desk, his hand seperated in a shrug. Martinson: Maybe I just found somewhere I'd like to see? Monroe: Uh hmm ::beat:: And it wouldn't have anything to do with the Trinity fleet being deployed would it? Martinson: I don't know anything about that. It was mostly true, he didn't as he was cleared for that kind of information. The Captain eyed him closely. Monroe: We're not due for leave for a couple more weeks. And I don't know what you were expecting to do, but we're not going anywhere near that fleet. Martinson: I don't want to go near the fleet. I want to go to 118. Monroe: Why? The Captain was putting her foot down, subtly, but he knew it. Martinson: I got a message from ::beat:: an old friend. Lieutenant Sherlock. She's had a rough year. And she sounded a little worried about whatever they were going to do. And I just thought it would be nice to be there when she got back ::long pause:: and for the crew to see a new place. Monroe: I'll consider your request, Mel. ::picking up her PADD to return to her work:: Martinson: I've heard Little Risa is nice this time of year... Monroe: Out! Martinson: ::flashing her a smile:: Yes, ma'am. ((OOC: The USS Glenn, if you haven't figured it out, will be visiting 118 next shore leave and there will be a tour of the Galaxy Class diplomatic cruiser if anyone is interested.)) End Scene Lieutenant Melvin H. Martinson Diplomatic Officer USS Glenn R239712AS0
  8. Sometimes the best writers have difficulties in putting out a good sim. I don't suffer from that since I am not a good writer But it should be commended when someone puts in the effort, heart and hard work. Great job @Arys
  9. This is how you start a story arch. Takes place today but both it and the flashback timeline end with a cliff hanger. Makes you want to know more. ((Somewhere on Cardassia Prime)) ((Time Index: During Shore Leave, after Lukin and Arys leave Cardassia)) Ferri knew it well - that moment between being not awake and not truly asleep, where the images that filled her mind were neither thought nor dream. Often times her mind sought refuge in what it knew best, where it felt safe and happy, and where the situation was one she had control over. The Cardassia of her childhood was that happy place. They didn't have much, but they had all they needed. Or rather, the child Ferri was back then didn't understand that the odd-looking people were Federation citizens, rendering aid to a people who had, only weeks ago, been their enemy. The child Ferri was back then didn't understand how her people's rich culture and history had burned to ash with the libraries and museums, and suffocated beneath the rubble with those who had hidden from the Jem'Hadar. All she knew was that they - Ferri, her mother, her father, and her sister - had each other, and that was enough. Today, she found no such respite. ((Flashback, four years prior)) Broadcast: ::mid sentence:: ....Nal and Irrot were both found dead in their apartments, with no signs of forced entry. Authorities however have decided to investigate. Their deaths have roused suspi-... Ferri switched off the broadcast, unsure what she had expected to hear. Cardassia was obsessed with the thousands of news channels that had popped up over the past decade, and between the weather and the results of the hound racing, the seemingly random death of two upstanding Cardassian citizens was surely worth reporting on. For a few moments, the young woman stood by the window, wrapping her hands around a cup of tea, trying to soak up its warmth. What was she expecting to see? There was nothing out of the ordinary. Below her, the city was still pulsing with life as last-minute purchases were made, and people returned home to their families. Perhaps that was what was bothering her. How could everyone else go on about their day, when she couldn't even bring herself to leave her apartment. Though, even if she did, where would she go? She missed her family, but Arla, her father, wouldn't speak to her. His new wife forbade it, and Ferri didn't blame her. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK Ferri froze, barely realizing that she dropped the cup she was holding. It shattered, spilling the hot liquid on the floor, and spreading the accompanying scent of different herbs and spices in the room. It sounded like someone was hammering against the door. Metal against metal, almost deafening. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. Ferri could feel her heart beating out of her chest, mimicking the knocking on the door, and surely pounding loud enough to hear for whoever was standing outside. Finally, Ferri could move again. She took one step, then the next one, one foot in front of the other foot, away from the door, and towards the controls for the window. Her hand stretched out to touch the cold metal, and her fingers pressed the button that disabled the security setting. A moment later she could feel the last rays of the setting sun on her skin while the crisp air filled her lungs, and for the first time in days, breathing came easy. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK Of course, the thought of jumping crossed her mind. An easy way out of a difficult situation, but nothing she would seriously consider. She didn't regret what she had done. Nal and Irrot had gotten what they deserved. There was no further knock. Instead, a quiet clicking sound, followed by a hiss that indicated the door being opened, and a the sudden draft that caught her hair. Ezak: Miss Emlott. Ferri turned, finally, to face the two men who had entered her apartment. The first one - she would later learn that his name was Ezak - spoke quietly, his voice gentle and unexpected from someone with such harsh features. Ezak: I am sure you know why we are here. The man next to him was taller and broader, and while he remained quiet, he seemed to be ready to move within the blink of an eye, should the girl decide to do something stupid. Emlott: I-.. What was there to say? She nodded meekly, trying - and failing - to be brave. Ezak gestured for her to lead the way, through the door, out of her apartment, and into a skimmer that stood ready. TBC Ferri Emlott Cardassian Visitor Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4
  10. OOC: I love the enthusiasm! IC: ((Academy Grounds – Starbase 118)) oO So...tell me: please, Nella. Enlighten me. Tell me what we're doing, exactly. Tell it to me straight so's I can understand it better . . . Oo “ . . . so much to see” a young Iotian woman in a mint-condition dress uniform surveyed her faint reflection in a huge panel of glass creating an expansive portal into the open universe. This could also be described as a big window. The purest vacuum of space held all the beauty of the Trinity Sector in perfect stillness before her. Her dark-haired reflected figure carried a PADD as it matched her brisk stride in mirror-image, and the text: “ AWAITING ORDERS” bobbed in reverse on the device's bright display. Nella was attempting to practice reading backwards while moving, to pass the time. oO Am I actually doing it? Or am I just cheatin' because I know what it says . . . Oo Her heart was thumping like an obsolete warp core. The worst thing Nella could do for her current state of mind was remain idle and still, yet she paused a moment. Her faint mirror image stared with dark-blue eyes and placed an olive-skinned finger on the single yellow metal pip that now adorned her collar. It felt at once foreign and familiar. Graduation day. “Ensign” Nella Noxwyn. The new title was itself as pristine as the formal uniform Nella was issued this morning; exciting, tidy, rather uncomfortable, commanding more respect than a typical crewman or cadet. Ultimately, all Ensign Noxwyn could expect to feel as she broke into her role as a newly-minted security officer—the rigid, fresh-scented, unbroken baseball glove of her Starfleet career would eventually become a like second skin, her profession an extension of her life purpose. The pressures put on her yellow-banded shoulders would be as the mattresses sandwiching a new mitt, softening the leather, making it into something supple, flexible and familiar. Starfleet protocol was a bone-white baseball stuffed inside this glove, giving it shape and form and depth and meaning. A properly broken-in security officer was like an old baseball mitt; with proper care and attention, it could reliably catch anything a mind and body could. oO This picture of you in uniform fits like a glove... Well, a glove that fits well. Plenty of gloves that are too big or too small, fit on, but they don't fit. A glove that fits good, or well.. well.. I dunno... I haven't played baseball in a long time, and Feds all run the bases in the wrong direction... Oh! What am I talkin' about?! Oo Nella kept occupied as she paced along a narrow observation concourse roughly ten metres' distance from the noisy grouping of excited former cadets and entourage. In the vast window directly ahead of her, she paused again to observe the boundless expanse of space and light-emitting objects. Nella also noticed flashes from professional photography equipment interrupting the expansive pane of glass, lights from the Federation News Network team that milled about as they covered the ongoing celebrations behind her. A photographer over there ordered the computer to momentarily alter the ambient lighting. In the new mode, Nella now saw a near-perfect mirror image of the luminous scene of graduates in the reflecting glass. oO Never turn your back on a room—unless you can see behind you and you know where you're going Oo Echoes of one of few clear memories of 'something her father said' repeated in her mind as she waited. Then she thought more about him and swallowed down the memory like bile. oO Let's think of something else—anything else . . . uh, how was your morning, Nella? Oo Earlier, she had been on her way to a star ship—her first assignment. There had been an unexpected development: “Academy Grounds – Starbase 118. Wait for contact from leadership,” the new orders had come to her PADD over an hour ago. Nella wondered which cheery 'El-Tee-Jay-Gee' from the crowd behind her would emerge to feign a long-time familiarity with her, as humans often did in new and uncomfortable situations. Now she heard shouts and cheers and shrieks of glee from the crowd—perhaps the Academy's Parises Squares team had made a collective appearance at the graduation after their recent setback at the conference semi-finals; to massage their morale. oO I want nothin' to do with that drummering... Not my monkeys, not my circus... bunch of space cadets... Oo ::Ensign Noxwyn reflected a moment, facing a window:: The ambient lighting flickered back to its previous settings. “Thanks everyone!” someone shouted. There was a general cry of “Woo!”. Her head swung over to the sound of multiple approaching footsteps on deck-plating. A group of fresh young graduates approached Nella, one of whom broke forward at a rapid pace, and extended an arm toward her. She didn't recognize any of them. oO Finally! I was beginning to think these “new orders” were somebody's idea of a joke! Oo In the foreman-graduate's hand, he held a small device. It was for taking photos. He flashed a set of white teeth. “Hi! Can we take a picture?” his arm alternated between pointing at himself and a cluster of three other cadets of mixed species and gender, some of whom made eye-contact and waved at Nella. She realized immediately these were not the people she was waiting for. “Sure pal, you just have to believe in yourselves and you'll figure it out”, Nella squeezed his extended arm reassuringly before turning and escaping with a strong walk. oO I'd rather be outside in a space suit than in the middle of this racket. Scratch that—I just wanna get outta here. This waitin's for somebody with time to feed the birds! Oo Nella was about to split and head all the way over to administration to clarify her “new orders” with a superior but paused after having made it across the room from the window she had been beside. Nella raised her PADD and re-read the document containing her new orders. She didn't want to miss her first assignment because somebody behind a desk got wise and sent her to the wrong ship, even worse if somehow the mistake was of her own making! Taybrim: Ensign Noxwyn? A red-haired man a few inches shorter than she was had gotten the jump on her. The Commodore! He spoke in a warm, welcoming tone and smiled in a calm, reassuring manner. Very personable, very warm, as if he was just some lieutenant here to catch her up on things. oO . . . and the worst part about it is, he got the jump on me! Oo Taybrim: I wanted to welcome you to StarBase 118. His near-black irises twinkled like sunglasses at a card table. Noxwyn: You? . . . wanted to welcome me? . . . Sir? . . . Commodore? The quick-moving man waved her forward with an arm that seemed to be plotting their course and heading with an intangible sense of authority. They broke into a walking pace that was just a quarter-step faster than Nella's tried and true rhythm, on the edge of behind a light jog. They were heading somewhere fast. Well, you see, I requested a special placement for security and we are launching for our mission in the next seventy minutes. So I hope you’re ready for an adventure, Ensign? oO Seventy minutes?! Oo Noxwyn: ::her hand went to her hip and felt a noticeable lack of phaser:: I can't say that I'm packed, Commodore. Taybrim: I assure you, one of the most delightful things about immediately going on a mission is that some of the lovely housing officers will have everything moved to your new quarters, ready and waiting for you when you return. No fuss, no hassle, just walk in, unpack and enjoy. Noxwyn: ::with a hint of confusion:: Yes, sir. The pace he had set was brisk, but Nella was beginning to hit stride with the Commodore. It was manageable, but her gams would feel this tomorrow. ::looking at the Commodore's legs in stride:: oO And how much walking have those legs done?! Oo Taybrim: By your academy performance, Starfleet felt you were a perfect candidate for this position and this mission. ::His eyes were near-black enough to catch the glint of an overhead light as they passed beneath, causing them to appear to twinkle ::Which we’ll go over in more detail once we get underway. Noxwyn: Thank you, sir. Understood. ::appearing not to fully understand:: They had reached the main turbolift, and the same hand which commanded the entire Starbase ushered her inside the rapid conveyor that could take days, if not weeks, off a top-to-bottom journey through the immese spacedock. ((Main Turbolift, Ascending)) Commodore Taybrim worked the control panel for longer than was typically necessary to input a course for the lift. The computer made an atypical chirp, but it was an acknowledgement of whatever instructions the Commodore had given it. Taybrim: Don’t be alarmed. The mission we’re going on is classified and unfortunately our good deeds from the last few missions have made us a prime target of interest from many unsavory factions. And the Federation News Service. Noxwyn: Sir, I believe you said “don't be alarmed” and “prime target” in the same sentence. Nella almost felt like throwing up as she realized she had taken a more familiar tone with the Commodore than she probably should at this stage in her career. Worse, the turbolift activated and took them upward, faster than she ever knew turbolifts could go! She thought felt her heart hit her knees. There was a pain in her midsection, like a bubble that needed to be burst. Taybrim: We’re off to diffuse a bomb, Ensign. A cult faction has levelled a threat against the Federation and had a stolen tri-cobalt device in their possession. Noxwyn was about to speak, but was intruded upon by the sudden unsubtle sound of her own flatulence. Yes, it was a normal and natural response to sudden stress, but it was also in an elevator with the Commodore. This incident wouldn't likely be forgotten, but hopefully would remain just between them. Noxwyn: Well . . . shoot! :: looking to the Commodore in horror, her mind absent of anything else to say :: On the plus side, her stomach started to feel better. She felt worse about everything else. Especially the word “bomb”. A bomb had torn her childhood apart and probably killed her mother. Taybrim: Response
  11. Really wonderful opening narration on this sim! Great job, Lieutenant! ((Briefing room – StarBase 118)) She had heard of “Tension being so thick you could cut it with a knife” but the room at the moment - the tension was so thick, a jackhammer would have been needed. She heard her name called and looked to Sal, and nodded as he instructed she would be working with him, Yael and Bailey. Blackwell: Yes, Sir Taybrim: You have two hours before the Narendra launches. Once on board we’ll have some time to coordinate with the Trinity-Serellian defense fleet before focusing on these tasks. Any questions? Luthas: I’m good sir. Bailey: No Sir. As the room started to clear, she stepped out, moving to the next stage in the planning. ((time Skip - Co’s office)) Rue was in the CO’s office as soon as possible, ready to get into the meat of their investigation. Rue rarely described hating things. Hate to her…was an ugly, savage emotion, one that tore at the one who felt it even as it tore at the people it was directed at. Rue hated Terra Prime. She felt that leadened, ugly feeling resting on her. She hated these people. She hated them for their hate, for their beliefs, for their paradigms. She hated that their irrational behavior was putting countless lives in danger, and had already done so. She had spent time reading up on Terra Prime, and other similar groups to theirs, to work to understand their psychology, the way that these groups formed. It was a great deal of feeling victimized themselves, often due to difficult, problematic living conditions. While Rue could in some sense…empathize with that, given the modern era, the resources, the fact - they could have- simply had things better and just accepted differences….but chose - this- form of horrorific response…it raised something ugly in Rue. It felt like there was a razor against her skin, making shallow, sharp cuts. She hated Terra Prime. She was attempting to deal with that emotion, to smother it, focus on what /could/ be done, when Bailey walked in. Bailey: Good day to everyone. ::She nodded to each in turn:: Certainly a pity we have to meet under such circumstances. Blackwell:::She managed a light smile:: Agreed - Taybrim: Response Bailey: I’ll cut right to it, in case the information is perceived not necessary. I once compared my uncle to Terra Prime. As such, I brought the Elaysian police report that was previously filled for him. I figured the information on his behavior could give us some insight into Terra Prime. Blackwell: All right. ::She quirked a brow, ready to listen:: Taybrim: Response Bailey: Certainly Sir. A file folder was handed to Taybrim. Bailey: I had the documents transferred to paper, hence why it’s not digital. ::her cheeks blushed red with slight embarrassment:: Blackwell:::She looked curious and glanced at Bailey:: So who is this uncle? Taybrim/Bailey Blackwell:::She smiled faintly:: Everyone has something in their family they are not proud of. Just few are willing to share. I appreciate you bringing this to us. Taybrim/Bailey Blackwell: I read a lot on the psychology of similar hate groups, and to try and find a bit more into…the thinking that develops there, but I’m curious to hear what you have ::She nodded to Bailey:: -- Lt. Prudence Blackwell Comms/Ops Starbase 118 G239308PB0
  12. I don't need assigned quarters, she said. I'm going to look in the commercial district, she said. Be careful what you wish for. 😉 IC: ((Freedom Beach, Little Risa, StarBase 118)) The Commercial Sector of StarBase 118 reminded Aine of something she'd read about in ancient Earth history. The city on the North American continent named New York had once been referred to as The City That Never Sleeps. She'd never been there but imagined it was much like the cities she had been to. Sure there was always a vibrant nightlife, but for the most part the majority of a city just slept. The Commercial Sector wasn't like that at all. Some of her appointments to view apartments were even scheduled late into the night. Thankfully she didn't have anything else really going on and luckily this one was during the day. Her first appointment was set for a small highrise in Little Risa just off the beach. And by small it was still nearly as big as the resort she'd stayed in when she was on the actual Risa. As she approached the building, she was amazed how they'd gotten the environment to match so well. About the only thing that it might be missing was Risa's three moons. The lobby of the building was very typically Risian. Wide open with big leafed plants everywhere. A woman approached her dressed in what might be considered formal were it not for the very short skirt and very low collared shirt. And much like her short time on Risa, Aine felt overdressed in her typical leggings and flannel shirt. Keana: Hello! ::grabbing and hugging Aine:: You must be my 1500? Sherlock: Yes, ::reaching out to shake hands:: Lieut...um...Aine, I'm...Aine. Keana: It's lovely to meet you! The woman was overtly chipper and it caught Aine off guard. She had to remember that this was a civilian area of the station. Formality probably wasn't something they practiced much of, especially in Little Risa. Keana: Well, as you may have noticed, we have direct beach access. This building also has its own dining hall, complete with fully stocked bar. It has synthale if you prefer. Sherlock: Oh, no, I definitely prefer the real thing. Keana: Excellent! Keana's smile was huge. The kind of smile Aine was sure she practiced for every potential tenant. Keana: Within walking distance, there's many shops, bars, and specialty services ::giving Aine a wink::. You're never alone in Little Risa! Sherlock: Great. ::nodding her head slowly:: oOIs this for real?Oo Keana had led her to a lift which promptly took them up to the sixth floor. After a short walk down the hall and some small talk Aine was sure Keana practiced like her smile, they came to the apartment for rent. When the door swished open, there was a burst of cool air. Walking in, it seemed more like an extended stay resort room than anything else. Keana: You have your living space, kitchen with a replicator if you prefer not to cook, and a half bath. And over here, ::pushing Aine along with a hand in the small of her back:: Is your bedroom. And a wonderful master bath. This was one of the most important things to Aine, a water bath. It was something she always looked forward to when either the Resolution or the Excalibur came into dock. She always reserved a room on DeepSpace 224 just for that. Yeah a sonic shower got you clean, but there was nothing quite like laying back and soaking in steaming hot water to relax. The tub of this apartment looked like it could hold four people, not that she'd want to have three others with her in it. Keana: You also have two balconies overlooking the beach. ::leading Aine to the balcony of the master bedroom:: It's a wonderful view! The door slid open and the warm and slightly humid air rushed in as Aine stepped out to the railing. From here she could see Trinity City and Ashalla. And something else... Sherlock: ::pointing to a couple on the beach:: Um, what are they doing? Keana stepped up next to her to see what she was referencing. Keana: Oh! Jamaharon. Sherlock: Oh god! I...uh...need to go. Aine quickly turned and went back inside, and straight for the door. While the view and weather were great, she didn't feel comfortable with that happening right outside her door. It wasn't that she didn't understand, it just wasn't her thing to watch. Keana: ::yelling after Aine:: Well, let us know if you change your mind! tbc Lieutenant Aine Sherlock Tactical Officer StarBase 118 Ops R239712AS0
  13. ((Ghemor Memorial Hospital, Andak, Cardassia Prime)) There were many aspects of Cardassia that had drawn Arys in, intrigued and fascinated her, and made her feel right at home. The larger cities were brimming with life, a fusion of Cardassian and Federation influence that kept the homesickness at bay, and yet sated her hunger for new experiences. The smaller villages were less cosmopolitan and more intimate, and much like the Cardassian community back on Starbase 118, offering artisan specialties and a glimpse into how old traditions could enrich new culture. Lukin’s home was located in the outskirts of Andak, and Arys never tired of admiring the the mountains that rose from the north and the west, and how the black rock glittered in the Cardassian sun. But then there were the harsh realities that came to light if one knew what to look for, and suddenly Cardassia was once more an alien planet, and so very different from the Federation. Arys had learned this the hard way when Geleth was in need of medical attention, and when the called emergency skimmer did not arrive because, as an orphan, her priority was not high enough. Arys had decided to cheat the system and used her own ID bracelet to indicate an emergency, and eventually Geleth had received the care she needed, but only as far as her priority allowed. Lukin, Arys knew, had a meeting with Ferri and would return home late. She had found her own solution for the problem, and she wasn’t quite sure into how much trouble she had gotten herself with it. Nurse: Here is her room. The Cardassian halted in front of a hospital room, and the door promptly opened. Arys stepped inside, and decided then and there that she had made the right choice. The walls were pale but not sterile, and the lighting was less harsh that that of the rooms low-priority patients were kept in. A large window offered different settings and currently allowed a view on the Cardassian sunset, and a holoemitter allowed for entertainment if it was wished for. An adjustable hospital bed stood in the middle of the room, and between comfortable looking sheets of the standard grey fabric, Geleth was sleeping. The girl has been sedated when Rishon had discovered a growth in the girls lung, and decided that a sample was needed. Arys walked over to Geleth, pulling a chair to the side of the girl’s bed, and taking her hand. She looked pale, more pale than usual, and while she had access to Geleth’s medical file and was thus informed about the treatment plan, she still worried. And she wasn’t just worried about Geleth. Arys had, strictly seen, broken the law when she had used her own emergency beacon to call for help. She could claim that she didn’t *know* any better, had assumed that Geleth’s was broken, and perhaps people would believe her. What was a lot more difficult to explain away however was how she had essentially bribed a stressed and overworked head of Paediatrics to grant her privileges. When Doctor Ganra had taken Geleth away, Arys had - true to her word - sought out the interns superior. He had turned out to be a middle-aged Cardassian who was head of an understaffed department and hadn’t slept in days, and had stopped just short of hugging Arys when she had offered her help in exchange for an increase in priority for Geleth. And now? Now she was, apparently, working in a Cardassian hospital, and needed to figure out a way to explain Lukin why that was the case. No matter. She sighed and reached for Geleth’s hand. To say that she loved the girl was perhaps a little early, but she was her brother’s daughter. That made her family. And Arys had failed her father and grandfather, and she wouldn’t fail Geleth. ***************** Lt. J.G. Trovek Arys Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4
  14. By now all of you know I am a Lurys fan. I am however putting forward this, for very personal reasons. The topic touches my heart deeply and it was beautifully written by @Arys and @Alora DeVeau. Thank you both for this. I joined all the four parts so it is a long read, but certainly worth it.
  15. @Sal Taybrim I am unsure if I am allowed to say that I enjoyed reading his suffering, but.... yeah. Kinda did. I really enjoyed this sim, and now everyone else can, too! ((Wyn Foster’s Quarters – StarBase 118)) (Time index – Several days earlier, during the mission) When he had gone to bed – early, this surgery made him in bed before his grandfather. If he even had a grandfather. Biological that was. His father had confirmed that all his parents and grandparents were dead and the only one who mattered was Charles anyways. So some theoretical grandfather. Old man. There. He was going to bed before old men. Dottering old men who played chess in parks and yelled at kids to get off their holographic lawns. When he had gone to bed he was trying to get a vague plan of what to do tomorrow. He had limited mobility. The vertigo wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be – judging from the last time the antennae was literally ripped out by the root and left hanging. This was a precise and professional corrective, so maybe that was to be expected. But standing up was a chore and brought with it an unwelcome wave of nausea. So he didn’t get out much. But he had enjoyed company. Actually he craved company. So his plan was to call Ashley and see how the counselor was healing. Maybe they could hang out again. It was draining because Ashley was scarred by whatever all happened and Wyn would always give from his very limited well of energy to support the other person. What he really wanted was a family member here. Someone who would just give him unconditional love until he fell asleep. He didn’t ask much – just to have someone close, someone to lean on, someone to touch him and let him know he wasn’t alone. Beyond that he slept a lot and ate sometimes and watched trash holovids. But anyone could give him at least half of what he wanted. He preferred to not converse to much, but to simply be. Maybe, if he felt truly and utterly safe he might actually talk about the mess of feelings he kept bottled up inside. But he didn’t feel safe with most people. His Dad. Mark. Saveron. That was it. Three stinking people, and one was a sentient hologram. He hadn’t even told Rue. Maybe he should. He desperately needed a family member on StarBase 118. Someone he considered family. Not just a friend. But when he woke up, he had a message. Ashley got an approved to travel to Vulcan. He took the first ship. He was already gone. Wyn didn’t know why, but it felt like a betrayal. That was stupid, he told himself. In their conversation he had confirmed that yes, he was off duty and available, but they had never actually made plans. He had only made silent plans in his stupid little head. Silent plans meant nothing. Silent plans were imaginary. And now look where that got you? Ashley was gone. Fixing himself. That was good. Wyn stayed behind. Alone. He stared at the walls of his quarters and felt like he was grasping at straws. Who else did he know on this entire huge StarBase that he trusted enough to call on a commline. Rustyy… on the Rahuba. Rue… on the Rahuba. Alora…on the Rahuba. And for a moment he cursed himself for being such an idiot. Maybe he should know more people. Maybe he shouldn’t have counted on Ashley being around. Maybe he shouldn’t stay inside. And yet his brain welled up and cursed back: Maybe you’re not worthy enough for anyone to care about… Maybe this was what he deserved. So many nights on the Constitution where he brushed off his crewmates games and activities to hide in his quarters fighting with the demons of the past. Too many days hiding in his office because he hadn’t slept enough. Foster: I’m trying OK?! I was frakking trying to fix things! He screamed it at the wall. The wall didn’t care. The vertigo hit hard and he collapsed on his knees. Alone. Again. Always alone. This was a long road he walked, and he felt that he walked it alone for so long. And the times that someone was with him were brief shining sunlight moments in a vast well of darkness. Wrapping his arms around his chest he did the one thing he only did when he was truly desperate. When all other ideas had been exhausted. When he felt he was doing the right thing but always getting the wrong responses. Foster: Computer… open a comm channel. Lt. Commander Cade Foster, USS Constitution. Computer: Lt. Commander Cade Foster is unavailable. Foster: Page him over the comms system! Computer: Lt Commander Cade Foster is not on the USS Constitution, StarBase 104 or within Starfleet comms range. He growled the next words in panic and despair. Foster: Where is he?! Computer: I am sorry, that is classified. Foster: Classified my ass! Computer: I do not recognize that command… He swore at the computer and collapsed on his bed, exhausted from the attempt. If he was in his right mind he might have gone to the hub. Contacted Commodore Taybrim. Emphasized he was looking for his Dad, asked for clearance. He wasn’t in his right mind. He curled up in a ball and sobbed for hours until exhaustion overtook him. ~*~ ~tbc~ ~*~ Lt Commander Shar’Wyn Foster Head Surgeon StarBase 118 Ops
  16. OOC: I realised I just kept putting quotes from this in the thread, so decided to share the entire thing. Now y'all can have context! 😄 IC Geoff: ::quietly:: Don’t judge me. The First Officer stifled a giggle, and Ozai finally, *finally* began to believe this was her real reaction. Velix had seemed to like Geoff, now DeVeau. Was it women in general? That did seem to be who Geoff tried to face-grab the most. Though his Bajoran roommate broke that mold, as did Rustyy Hael. Y’zyr: ::smiling at his spider-bro:: I’m not. I’m just saying… I guess most people aren’t spider fans. ::more quietly:: I think we gave Commander Hael a stroke. DeVeau: Well, I have two advantages that most people don’t. Ozai looked down at her curiously, gold irises focusing on the First Officers face. DeVeau: First, I’m a zoologist. I *love* animals of *all* kinds. What kind of zoologist would I be if I didn’t like spiders? Geoff: Now you can call yourself a cyberzoologist! You can study me any time. Ozai gave a painful grin, and reached out to thwack Geoff’s little spider butt with a flick of one of his cybernetic fingers, to silence the little miscreant. DeVeau: Second, like I said, I’ve met cyborg spiders. Big ones. After that, someone Geoff’s size is nothing. She motioned for Geoff to behave himself, which he seemed to be doing better at now that the initial face-grabbing was out of his system. DeVeau: Geoff’s an AI…so he’s capable of learning. Maybe you just need to learn now to grab people’s faces, my friend. She poked him playfully on one of those spindly arms, her grin returning to her features. DeVeau: And I’m sure not only the population at large would be grateful, so would Y’zyr. Geoff: ::nodding at her wisdom:: Yeah, it sure stresses dad out. *Dad.* UGH. Y’zyr: He’ll get there. I’ll keep trying to work that kink out of his programming. But I’m afraid he just gets more fervent with every alteration I make. I may still have some learning to do, when it comes to *programming* bots. DeVeau: Right. Yeah. Definitely got some learning ahead of you. Maybe he just needs his own face to grab so he can fulfill his wish. Like a mannequin or robot head… One cybernetic hand formed a fist and came down into the other open palm, as if a brilliant stroke had hit him. Y’zyr: That’s weird enough, it just might work! Geoff: I *would* appreciate a nice cozy face to recharge on. Y’zyr: That’s it. We’re replicating you a mannequin. I’ll install a wireless charging unit in it, and you can pick out the face yourself. Geoff didn’t respond verbally, save to open his little mandibles wide, and he seemed to make an excited gasping noise. His multiple little eyes seemed to glimmer a little brighter, as if they were responding to his rising delight. Geoff: You’re the *best,* dad! The Trill laughed, still a little uncertain about the spider-bots responses and calling him “dad,” but at least it was a working, testable theory. DeVeau: ? Geoff: Next you’ll tell me you’re taking me to Disney Station! It *is* the happiest orbital theme park in the Alpha Quadrant. Y’zyr: Don’t push your luck. No way am I taking a face-happy spider bot into a theme park filled with children. The very idea was hilariously disturbing. DeVeau: ? Y’zyr: ::to the 1st Officer:: If you come up with any more ideas, let me know. ::he paused, and seemed to remember he was talking to the 1st Officer:: It’s nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of. I think the engineers are starting to consider me a nuisance. Another reason to be able to do more of his own minor repairs. He couldn’t keep bothering actual engineers with his personal needs or side projects. DeVeau: ? ~*~ Ensign Ozai Y’zyr Tactical & Security Starbase 118 Ops C238211TZ0
  17. OK this is completely self indulging. Thank you @Arys for choosing such a romantic and familiar place. Perfect the way it was described. And @Alora DeVeau. I love Lukin as well. Now I only have a question, is it Lukrys or Arin?
  18. Bugs? Bugs! FAAAAANCY BUGS! I am loving this scene @Yael and @Alora DeVeau! ((First Officer DeVeau’s Office - Starbase 118 Ops)) Sometimes there were some big downsides to being a first officer. Disciplining another officer was one of them . While she had finally over the course of the year and three months gotten settled into the roll, that didn’t mean that particular aspect was easy. Tito wasn’t a *bad* officer, but he had some unpleasant qualities that affected his job. And when those affected his job, they needed to be changed. Would they? Only time would tell, and it was all up to him. She could order him to do certain things, attend counselling, dole out punishments, but ultimately, he decided where he went from there. She sincerely hoped he had an epiphany and breakthrough that would enable him to be an even better officer. The unpleasantness had barely ended when the doors parted again, but that time, someone completely different entered. This someone was the cyborg that she had met only recently. While Tito’s situation hadn’t been the greatest, she wouldn’t take it out on the new arrival, and she managed a sincere smile as he stepped in, but didn’t get to say a word before he himself proclaimed - Y’zyr: I come bearing gifts! That was not what she expected! DeVeau: Gifts? Pardon me, I know we were on the Rahuba together, but we haven’t been formally introduced! He crossed over the room and gazed down at her, and then Alora popped up to her feet, her smile had faded, not out of concern, but because curiosity had replaced it. Brow furrowed, she turned her green eyed gaze toward the object in his hand. Y’zyr: Sorry. Ma’am. Ensign Ozai Y’zyr. With… bugs. I have bugs. *Fancy* bugs. For you. Was he new to the station? Or just new to her? While a lot came across her desk, Alora didn’t know *everyone*. She might have even focused on the fact that he was new to her, but she was distracted. Bugs? Did he really say bugs? Alora’s eyes lit up. Did he really bring her bugs? She laughed, partially because, in truth, it was rather funny that someone brought her insects. The rest of it was delight at the prospect. Bugs! DeVeau: You said you have…bugs? Y’zyr: If this isn’t a good time, I can come back? She wrenched her eyes away from the package and he lifted it higher as if to keep her attention on it. Leaning forward, she peered into the unit but…there were plants. Plants were great too! But he had said bugs… DeVeau: There are…bugs? Oh she didn’t mind bugs. Not at all! Alora loved bugs, but the problem was, there weren’t any. Y’zyr: I promise I’m not mad. They’re in here. You need a scanner or a phase stabilising view-screen to see them. Now her eyes lit up even further at that little tidbit. Bugs that phased? Or something similar? What sort of beast were they? DeVeau: Wait, so the bugs can’t be seen…and I need a phase stabiliser? Okay, he had just said that, but it was intriguing. Alora hurried around her desk and clasped the containment unit in her hand. She stared. And stared. And stared. But there were no bugs. Just plants. Was it a joke? No..he had just told her what it would take to see them. Y’zyr: ? DeVeau: Where did you find these? Y’zyr: ? Alora might have recognised the plants if she’d had the opportunity to explore the Si’laan further. Well, she *would*, but not before that very moment. After her return to the Rahuba’, she’d not set foot on the Risuan vessel, though she hoped they would allow her to visit it again now they were docked at the Starbase. And bugs! New bugs! New to her bugs! The smile returned and shifted into a full out grin. Then she made a beeline for the door, though she called back to the man - DeVeau: Come on! Y’zyr: ? Alora didn’t answer right away. Her pace was quick as she set a course for the nearest turbolift, container firmly and safely in her hands. Stepping inside, she beckoned the cyborg to join her, then commanded the computer to take them to one of the decks in the science department, then turned that grin to Y’zyr. DeVeau: We’re going to go take a look at some bugs! Y’zyr: ? -- Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau First Officer Starbase 118 Ops alora@blar.net M239008AD0
  19. It's no secret I have been a fan of these two characters from the start. I love this scene, thank you @Arys and @Alora DeVeau
  20. I really enjoyed this scene from Ki'yara, simmed by @Sal Taybrim. The way it picks up on the mood of the scene is really well done, as is how it escalates without resulting into violence. Despite the riot-scene not being planned, it feels like the characters narration has been building up towards a climax like this. Definitely one of my highlights this mission ((Sickbay, USS Rahuba)) Kasun: These enemies attacked them not long ago, before they entered the cloud and happen to look like Andorians. Enemies. The grey ones. The hostiles. Those who had insisted that they were the rules of the stars. Her father had made no friends with them when he replied that it was arrogance to presume one could own a star or a planet. Time and life was merely rented from the guides and each planet and star would outlast generations of Grey Ones or Risu. But the Grey Ones were arrogant and did not see life that way. All they wished to do was crush those who did not comply. She had seen then up close and personal. They did not look like the blue woman in the Healer’s care. Nor did they look like the blue Leader Dal on her ship. But rumors and fear were pervasive. They looked enough like the Grey Ones that fear spread like wildfire. Licking at Ki’yara’s fragile telepathy, threatening a blowout and backdraft of hostility. Ki’yara: I am trying to tell them… the Grey Ones are not here. But they are… difficult to reach… Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she strained in one of the most basic aspects of her role. Basic to speak, but incredibly difficult to moderate. Nothing had prepared her for this level of raging emotion. Tito: I see. Blackwell::She glanced to Tito, and then back to the Risu - she hoped that cooler heads could prevail with this:: Perhaps we should just give the speaker a moment to talk ::And she glanced to Ki’yara:: Ki’yara: I’m trying… Her voice was breathy and she started to consider how to communicate with them who was the real enemy. Tito: Anything I can help with? Trovek: Yes, please move between the Risu and Lieutenant Sh'shyllerh. I have already informed our visitors that we will cease lending medical aid to their people should they attempt to harm her, or anyone else. Tito: ? The overwhelming maelstrom of emotions did not allow her to reach their minds like she was taught to do. As the newcomer interposed himself between her people and the injured blue woman she stood up and clenched her tiny little fists. Ki’yara: Please! Stop attacking! We asked for help, they are trying to help us! Risu: They’re liars! They are controlling the Speaker! Her ears dipped downwards in betrayal and dismay. She felt the ice cold pain of rejection and tears started to well and drain from the corners of her eyes, making the fur beside them matted and moist. Blackwell: ::Rue moved to stand in front of the Speaker, putting her hands up:: No, we’ve not manipulated her in any way - we have only sought to help. Kasun: I know you’re scared and I would be too in your circumstances, but we are not allies of those who attacked you. Our ship’s encounter with yours was entirely by chance and we only want to get you patched up and on your way. Trovek/Tito: ? Ki’yara: Please! If they had wanted to attack why go to the deception of trying to help! You are safe! Please stop! Her words were thin and anxious. Pleading. She had lost the ability to sound calm and confident. She sounded young and desperate. Blackwell: You are telepathic, correct - able to read thoughts and emotions? Ki’yara: I can… but the emotions are overwhelming! Trovek/Tito: ? Blackwell: Then you are welcome to read my mind ::She said firmly:: I’ve been working with your speaker, along with my colleagues, and we are attempting to help, not manipulate, and certainly not to endanger you. She took in a slow breath, understanding what the Communicator was trying to do. But the majority of her people were not telepathic in a traditional way. Telepathy among most Risu was an intimate low-level bond between a tiny handful of close people. Usually only a partner or mate, and a parent or child. Speakers were a hereditary position based on those who had stronger telepathy. Ones who could speak to the whole and hear the voices of the ancestors. Could she amplify for her people? She had to try. In one tiny paw she took up the Communicator’s hand and concentrated. Ki’yara: Let me help you. Trovek/Tito: ? She didn’t mean it. The feelings were overwhelming. As the Communicator broadcast good, pure intentions, her people fought back with pain and fear. And finally Ki’yara screamed out and what she projected was raw. The sight of her father, attacked by the Grey Ones. She focused in on the graven sooty, unyielding countenance. The vivid cerulean hair, the dead and lifeless eyes. She relived watching her father die. She focused on those who did it. She let rumors go free and focused on what the Grey Ones were. Valcarians. That is what they called themselves. No. We do not condemn all species for the crimes of one. The tears flowed freely as she weakly projected Rue’s goodwill, her energy draining out of her as she relieved the worst moments of her young life and projected them to her people and anyone who could sense them. As she sunk to her knees, exhausted, her people started to stand down. Risu: ::Suspiciously :: Why are you helping us? What benefit are you looking for? Blackwell: Because - it’s just what we do. ::She said firmly:: Kasun: As for the benefit, your ship is currently stranded within our people’s territory. At the very least repairing your ship and sending you along on your way is more beneficial to us than leaving you all stranded. Ki’yara: Because working together we can both benefit. Is that so hard to understand? Maybe she meant ‘is that so hard to believe.’ Both were shockingly similar at times. Trovek/Tito/Blackwell: ? Kasun: As a culture our people tend to be altruistic, :: she shrugged :: but we know not every culture is the same. That you disbelieve us is understandable but we are telling the truth about our intentions. Trovek/Tito/Blackwell: ? Risu: ? Ki’yara: We tried to do this by ourselves! ::She returned.:: But we suffered lossed and I am not too proud to admit that we need help! Trovek/Tito/Blackwell/Kasun: ? Risu: ? Ki’yara: I came up here to speak with you! I came to calm you, to protect you, to save you from yourselves. I am sure we can go back home, right now, if you are well enough to do so. Trovek/Tito/Blackwell/Kasun: ? Risu: ? Ki’yara: But that is the point, to find a new home! Sometimes she wondered if she was being obtuse or if she simply saw things with more clarity. Trovek/Tito/Blackwell/Kasun: ? Risu: ?
  21. I am totally bias in my opinion over @Arys writing. I think she is one of the most talented writers in the fleet. But I admit I was surprised how she turned a medical sim into a riot. This is the third one in a series of sims that really turned the table.
  22. On the one side I feel sorry for @Rustyy_Hael, on the other side his suffering is really entertaining That's what you get if you leave him alone with a squirrel lady and two trill ensigns Fantastic sim, I read it, re-read it, and read it AGAIN. ((Si’Laan Migration Ship - Engineering)) ((Timeskip)) If there were a few things Rustyy hated it would list as; People who kicked machines to get them to work, People who tried to fix machines not having a clue what to do, Bugs…. And out of those three, there was only one thing he actually _hated_, the rest just went on to annoy more than anything. To those that didn’t know him well, the answer is BUGS. Alaska wasn’t known for bugs and when he went to the academy on Earth, he quickly found out that the world was covered in them… Made his skin crawl. Space didn’t have mocu for bugs, which suited him perfectly. But then, even out here, nothing was for sure or absolute. Velix: So what do we do? Just wait for Commander DeVeau to find a solution? Y’zyr: Staying out of the way? Hael: Nah, ther’ always be work to be done few engineers. ::he smirked.:: An’ ‘cause yer workin’ with me, yer engineers fer’a bit. Velix: Hey. Sure. Just letting them talk and decide what to do, other than wait until someone finds a solution. Y’zyr: I’m not sure I know what to do here. I was hoping the engineers could tell us what we need to do. If Rustyy was an eyeroller, he would have done so by now. If he was a little less oblivious to all things save for engineering, he might have noted the flirtyness between the two he’d brought with him. Rustyy would always be a third wheel, though never notice it or the awkwardness of it either. Velix: True. Well you could sit down here and look at these weird plants. And one of my symbionts hosts was a botanist - weird plant is my professional description. Look. Rustyy had already turned back to the funny words on the computer screen, more focussed on the graphical and gauge layout and readings. He could see - kind of - where the power output was going, including the extra strain where Commander Dal was located. That spot needed to be cut off from main power, and soon. It was like a bad oil leak like in an ‘80s GM or mid ‘90s Nissan. He made a few faces for no reason in particular. Y’zyr: You said weird plant? Velix: Weirdo plant, that’s what I said. Why? Rustyy caught the word ‘weirdo’ and turned. He’d missed most of the rest of the conversation. He glanced around to look for something weird. Truth be told, he’d put most of the things here in that category. Though, likewise would classify things as unique, different, unusual. His vocabulary had lits of words that to him, meant the same thing. Hael: Uh… ev’rythin’ good. ::he spoke in hushed tones to his team.:: Ya’faemi: What in the names of all the ancestors are you doing? Velix: Y’zyr noticed something weird. Y’zyr: Actually… ::his nose turned up under his mask slightly:: … are those plants *supposed* to be crawling with bugs? Rustyy opened his mouth - but the scratch that came from the tiny, squirrel chief engineer, cut him off in an instant. He cringed, embarrassingly. He didn’t stop to peer over at the plant in question. Ya’faemi: What! Well I never. This is a clean ship, we have no such pests here! If you see them then you and your parasite brought them on board. Oh no… this didn’t seem like a good time. They weren’t making a very good, lasting impression at all. And he was very much out of depths on the matter, not sure how to redirect or fix this at all… and he outranked the other two which made him responsible! This was his teen years all over again… herding toddlers at family reunions. Only this had a bigger impact on peoples and future interactions. Well shit… Velix: I don’t see anything. Are you sure they’re not *inside* your suit? Hael: How’s ‘bout we focus - Y’zyr: Geoff. You can see them? ::the spider bot nodded his adorable head:: Can you grab a few of them for me? Geoff: Sure thing, dad. It very quickly turned into a stooge moment. Rustyy threw his hands up and turned away, forgetting for a moment he was in an area that wasn’t tall enough and whacked the top of the helmet he was wearing. He cursed under his breath and grumbled. He’d already forgotten the tiny, creepy, menace had been brought along. And it was still creepy. He kept his back turned turned as he worked to catch his breath and will away a sudden pain in his head… and another part of his anatomy. Geoff: Got two! They’re fast. ::pause, then blustering:: But I’m *faster!* Velix: You are a little weird, you know? And I mean that in the most positive way possible. Ya’faemi: :: She shuttered with suppressed revulsion :: And they’re the ones accusing us of carrying pests. Hael: I know…. ::he mumbled to the squirrel woman. His face expressed his feelings and thoughts plainly.:: Y’zyr: I’m telling you, they’re there. They seem to be *flickering.* Like… they’re fading in and out every second or so. He mentally willed the cyborg, his creeper and the dark skinned polka dotted woman to … well to do anything other than this. Meanwhile, Rustyy worked to continue to converse power and facilitate where best the ships should settle in next to each other for maximum coverage and minimal strain. Y’zyr: These bugs seem to have contained some sort of radiation… or chronitons? It’s hard to get a clear reading on them… half the time it’s like the scanner can’t even find them. :::he pried Geoff off his face and then got a better look at his fellow companions suspicious faces:: I swear I’m not mad. They’re there! Rustyy turned, his eyes went wide and he ducked down and back away. As in “I don’t know you crazy people!” He looked like a person trying to avoid getting tagged by a hot poker. Unreasonably enough, his first thought “cyborg ocular implants were jacked up.” but if creeper was out there catching them… Velix: I am a scientist. Trust me. ::pause:: I mean, you can trust me, I’m a scientist. And I’ve seen bugs before. Oh he could hug her! Saved him from a horrible death, death by fear of bugs… bugs in his suit! Oh no… he closed his eyes and pretended anything else was happening. Who prayed for warp core meltdown? He did… ~~ Lieutenant Commander Rustyy Hael Chief Engineer Starbase 118 Ops USS Narendra A239202RH0 ~~
  23. ((Shrine of the Guides, Si’laan Migration Ship)) ((Time index: Before the Ion Storm)) As a young girl, I have often found myself jealous of the gift the line of the Speaker had received from the Guides. It predestined them to be leaders of our people - after all, they could connect not only to Risu around them, but to the ancestors who had long left their mortal shell behind. I, too, had received gifts, but more often they not, especially in my youth, they felt like a curse. My mother had carried the burden of the visions on her shoulders, as had her mother before her. And when those dreams of disaster and destruction were passed on to me, I accepted them with grace. My father once told me that, hundreds of turns ago, our families were one, and what set us apart from the others was, in it’s core, one and the same. But as time passed, and our journey became more and more perilous, our migration looked to the Speaker for comfort, and to me as a representation of the illnesses and losses we had suffered. And then the Speaker had died. He had returned injured from an attempt on friendship with another species, and died in his daughters arms. She, as the only Risu aboard the Si’laan who shared his gift, stepped into the role of the leader. And me? I was not a leader, I was just a messenger. The guides did not bless me with what it took to connect to our people in such a unique way as Ki’yara was able to do it. But had she consulted me, asked me about those strangers in their warship, I would have advised her not to trust them. *** He’liseka let out a long pent-up sigh and opened her eyes. The Shrine of the Guides was dimly lit, but still it took her eyes several moments to readjust. In the shadows she could make out Tu’pia’s small frame, and that of the slightly taller Ku’kari nearby. The two girls attended to He’liseka, and assisted her when her age caught up with her. He’liseka: I fear the Guides do not answer me today. She struggled onto her feet, and Tu’pia quickly came to aid the older woman, lending the support her walking stick could not offer. Tu’pia: I am certain they will, honoured He’liseka, in time. The older woman responded with a rare smile. Her own daughter had been killed turns ago, and both her bloodline and her gift would die with her. Perhaps it was for the better. Ku’kari joined them, as always eager to help. She was older than Tu’pia, and would soon be looking for a mate. Her long, silky black fur and bright blue eyes made her desirable, even if her connection to the Messenger of the Guides did not. Ku’kari: Perhaps we ought to take a walk, He’liseka. We have remained here far too long, and when the guides wish to speak, I am sure they can wait. Tu’pia: ::scoldingly:: Kari! You mustn’t speak of the Guides like that. Ku’kari answered with a slight shrug, and turned her attention to He’liseka, who nodded at Tu’pia’s words. He’liseka: Your sister is right, Ku’kari. If the Guides decide to leave me waiting, so be it - but… I suppose your suggestion is not a bad one. Ku’kari smiled triumphantly, and Tu’pia nodded with a small sigh. Together, the three woman left the darkness of the meditation chamber and stepped into the much brighter corridor, one of the pathways leading to and away from the Shrine of the Guides. The hallway was decorated with glittering tiles, sacred plants, and artwork created in devotion to those they worshipped. Tu’pia: Is it often that the Guides do not answer? He’liseka: The Guides know when it is the right time for us to receive their message. And they deliver it when-…. She was interrupted by a straining and bracing of metal, followed by a lurch forward that threw her off her feet. The two younger women quickly helped her up, only to loose their own footing as the ship began shaking violently. They had passed through storms before, sustained attacks, but this felt worse than what they had experienced so far. Ku’kari: Watch out! Instinctively He’liseka scrambled out of the way as the wall of the corridor caved in, burying Tu’pia underneath it. Around them, screams filled the air as scared and injured Risu tried to get out of the crumbling passage. He’liseka: ::to Ku’kari:: Run! Ku’kari would be faster without her, but the other Risu just looked at her, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to comprehend what she had just witnessed. He’liseka: Ku’kari, *listen* to me! Ku’kari snapped out of it, taking He’liseka’s paw and dragging the older Risu with her, dodging the falling debris. There was an opening not far from here, like a clearing in a forest, if only they could make it there… And then the metal strained once more, sounding almost like a long-stretched groan, which ended in the collapse of the tunnel. He’liseka clasped Ku’kari’s paw tightly, pulling her into an embrace before everything went dark. [End Scene] ***************** MSNPC He’liseka Messenger of the Guides Si’Laan Colony J239809TA4
  24. Someone is up to something... IC: ((Coranum District, Starbase 118)) Ferri had ended up staying the night in Doctor Dekor’s practise, and feeling miserable and cursing Zorkal for putting her through such an ordeal just because he himself did not want to show vulnerability. While the younger woman could, of course, relate, she still found it deeply unfair. After all, even if someone were to come and try to exploit that vulnerability, he had Ferri to protect him. Ferri didn’t have anyone. That, according to the Doctor, the symptoms would have subsided after a few hours - had Ferri stayed in bed and not spent hours walking from her own quarters to Lukin’s quarters, to sickbay, and then back to Coranum, didn’t make her think any more fondly of Zorkal right now. Eventually however, she was ‘dismissed’ and free to do as she pleased. Well, not really. As much as she disliked the Ambassador, his cruelty didn’t change her assignment. It just made it a whole lot less pleasant, and a lot more difficult. She was here to protect him, even if he didn’t want to be protected, and even if it looked a lot more like she was the one in need of protection - from him. Ferri sighed as she made her way towards the Embassy, equipped with everything she would need to be able to determine the source of the toxin. As it was to be expected, the building did not show the slightest trace of anything out of the ordinary. Nothing hinted on the fact that the Ambassador had been poisoned here only hours ago. She made it to the appropriate floor, crossed the lobby and was about to open the door to Zorkal’s office, when…. Ringot: Ah, good morning Miss Emlott. Do you have an appointment with the Ambassador I am unaware of? The young woman turned and her gaze settled on Ringot, Zorkal’s aide. Of course he was here. She didn’t dislike him - as a matter of fact he was a both pleasant to look at, and pleasant to speak to - but she still wasn’t feeling *great*. Emlott: ::frowning:: Is the Ambassador in his office? Ringot: ::nodding:: Of course. But he is very busy, and he won’t be able to meet you today. I can reschedule your appointment? Ferri stared at him, and for a moment she actually believed that Zorkal was stupid enough to return to his office before she was able to make sure he did not get poisoned again. Ringot himself looked trustworthy and his statement was believable, but… Emlott: He isn’t here, is he. It was more of a statement than a question. Ringot: I don’t know what you mean. Emlott: ::with a sigh:: I know. Before she had to elaborate what exactly it was thats she knew, she attempted to open the door. Ferri had expected it to be locked, and her heart momentarily skipped a beat as it opened. Was Zorkal here after all? She peered into the room, vaguely noticing Ringot stepping to her side and doing the same. Emlott: He forgot to lock the door. Ringot: He… he never forgets that. Emlott: Well, there’s a first time for everything. Ferri ignored Rigot and his protest as she made her way into the office, and looked around. The Ambassador’s office wasn’t sparse as such, but it was in impersonal. As it was typical for Cardassian architecture, even here on the highest floor of the building, Zorkal’s desk and chair sat at platform a few inch higher than the rest of the room, allowing him to look down upon those who came to him with a request. Large windows allowed a view on the park and the lake, and the rest of the district in the distance. Ferri wondered if there were times Lukin just stood here, enjoying the scenery. She certainly would. Emlott: I have some work to do. Which, really, was her way of telling Ringot to leave, but the other Cardassian didn’t seem eager on leaving at all. Ringot: What kind of work? Uh… good question. Ferri sighed and offered him a shrug, then placed her bag of equipment on Zorkal’s desk and began unpacking. Emlott: That’s classified. Ringot eyes widened a little. Ferri wasn’t sure how much he knew about her, and what Zorkal had told him about his current condition. Right now it didn’t matter either - Ferri would even say it was helpful that Ringot decided it was best to let her do her thing, and backed off. TBC ***************** Ferri Emlott Cardassian Visitor Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4
  25. Medical sims can be a challenge. Specially one like this. But again @Arys proved to be a talented writer. Reader discretion is advised as you can see from the title.
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