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SB118 Ops: Quotations of the Week!


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Looking to Alora, he did realize that they had freed the civilian and political hostages, who were meant to be tortured or killed, fed to starved targs.  He *had* let the targs out.  Woof… maybe he was being too self-critical?  Wouldn’t be the first time.

 

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From the narrative of Ashley Yael: 
 

He returned to his seat and their commanding officers continued handing out an assortment of medals and ribbons, awarding his crewmates.  He couldn’t help a bit of an ego boost… the Intelligence Star, AND the Silver Star?  If he wasn’t careful he might start to build some self-confidence.

And we wouldn't want that now, would we?

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If they weren’t careful he might actually start to believe them.  He’d just tried to do what Anthony would do, if he hadn’t been injured.  He’d wanted… selfishly… to impress, though that hadn’t been his main motivation.  What *had* been motivating him?  The lives on the ground, the Strike Team, the hostages?

Or perhaps, just as selfishly, though not in a bad way… to prove to himself he could be useful.

That he was worth something.

That wasn’t so bad a reason, was it?

 

From funny, now to serious and giving us a bit more depth to the character. You're killing me, Yael.  This is kind of heartbreaking.

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Taybrim: Please, be at ease, Commander.  ::He smiled, like always.  That disarming, comfortable, warm smile.::

Which means you should be afraid.  Very, VERY afraid.  

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Sal gave a slim nod of assent.  It was Commodore’s prerogative, but Sal was generally one for all sorts of festivities.  But, Admiral Hauke wanted to ensure her favorite ginger Commodore was not, in fact, assassinated any time soon and had enforced some strictures on his activities.

Yeah, that would be preferred.  

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From the narrative of Ishreth Dal:

And with that he pressed send, paused and took in a long deep breath.  He didn’t have the greatest track record with diplomatic missions and the last thing eh wanted to do was to let Commodore Taybrim down.

So he had to succeed.  Two hours.  Talking with nutty archaeologists.

What could possibly go wrong?

Everything.  

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From the narrative of Sal:

Ok, now he was looking a little awkward.  Alora planned this, didn’t she?  To draw this out for as long as possible, just to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Maaaaaaybe.

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Unfortunately, the Pakled ran straight at their table.  Amethyst eyes widened slightly… and in a rather sleek move for one who was not only drunk, but also had a motion disorder… for which he always wore his wrist braces to steady his hands… he slipped the Sumarian Sunrise off the surface of the table and slid out of his seat just as the entire lot of it went crashing down.  Somehow, by some fantastic streak of luck, Ashley had just previously won the pot that went flying to the floor… and he stood rather unperturbed with drink in hand as Isaiah ran past the mess and at the Pakled.

 

Yael:  ::disconnected from the drama:: …  Oh… well, *that’s* going to need cleaned up...

 

This made me laugh!

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From the narrative of Yael:

It wouldn’t do to cause a scene in front of diplomats from across the quadrant. 

Absolutely NOBODY was allowed to barf in front of the diplomats.

Yeah, we really don't want ANOTHER diplomatic incident!

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The minute that Rue saw Yael - she had a feeling that she was going to have her hands full.

Girl, you have NO idea. 😄

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Formal wear, Talas hated formal wear. It was uncomfortable, sweaty, why couldn't there be a Pyjama ball, perhaps he would suggest that to the Commodore.

I second this idea!  

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Yael:  Been hoping not to put on a display in front of the diplomats… I’m sure the Commodore would be thrilled if he got *that* message…

The message would undoubtedly read, “Counselor Yael Barfs on Diplomat and Causes Diplomatic Incident.  Yael is to be Stripped of Rank and Flogged on the Promenade.” 

It would certainly be an event!

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Foster Oh diplomatic mingling, that sounds great.

He said in a tone that clearly said it sounded about as great as dumping a metric ton of tribbles into a Klingon mosh pit.

But that *WOULD* be great!  Unless you're a Klingon.

*imagine the fluffiness*

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And then the flash happened and his paranoia was proven right.  Which was certainly not going to help said paranoia at all.  The last thing he remembered doing was moving to cover Rue and protect her from… what?  Light?  Energy?  If they were all vaporized his stupidly chivalrous, protective move meant nothing at all.

But at least he tried.

Wyn gets an "A" for effort!

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Foster: Ishmahoory…

I'm sorry, this just made me laugh out loud for real!

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Galven: Would Borg tech help at all?

Don't make me smack you.

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Sol stood back up. She pinched the bridge of her nose. This station did have a way of attracting crazy situations.

Boy is that putting it mildly.

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When the team gets shrunk and you run into a cat...

 

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They were going to die.  Death by rodent control.  They were perfectly mouse sized, and Ashley took a pensive step backward as the cat moved closer, lowered its head, and gave him a great sniff… his hair and clothes rustled as the nose came close enough to touch, drawing in a deep breath… at least while it ate him, his team could run for cover.

 

I bet Ashley is tasty!  This had me laughing though. :)

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Isaiah felt around the pockets of his suit. Not much there, to be honest. He hadn't come to the gala expecting trouble.

Andrews: Well, I have...breath mints. Is anyone feeling a little less than fresh in the mouth? They've got a nice minty tingle.
 

Who needs a towel when you have breath mints?

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Dal: As far as resources?  I have two functional Ushaan-tor, and a firelight.

A torch and two blades. Isaiah had to admit that both of those were a hell of a lot more useful than breath mints.

Andrews: Remind me to get some pointers from you on things to bring to a gala next time, Commander.

I don't know why, but this just made me laugh.

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Empress Lurtz: Well I don’t intend to stand here waiting to be gobbled up for desserts, I’m far too refined for that foul beasts palette! Get us out of here!

I'm not sure refined is the word I'd use here. :)

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Lurtz: Manhandled by a Gorn, well, another first I suppose.

But oh, honey, WHAT a Gorn!  

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Tatash: Andrews what the f…

Tatash!  Not in front of the kids!

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Lurtz: Is this normal Starfleet training?

Honey, there's NOTHING normal about Starfleet.

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