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LTCmdr. Quentin Collins - Return to Ring 42 (or; Maybe You CAN Go Home(s) Again)


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@Quentin Collins III I mean I know we haven't written just yet, and not to be too forward or anything, but this first sim during the quick little visit makes me feel like I know Quentin personally as a friend. I am emotional about it. I love him, I love the writing style. So beautifully written. Just excellent. I am so excited Quentin is visiting because of things like this. 



((Interior. Long-Range Supply Shuttle Tennant. Dialran System, Aavaro Wilds.))

Quentin Collins felt his breath catch as the shuttle dropped from a comfortable Warp 5 into the system he once called his home. His first amongst the stars, away from the weird and insular town that bore his surname. 
He knew he would hit him fairly hard. This "return" to Ring 42 and its tumultuous fascinating local space. He was, after all, the "emotional sort" as his sister and brother used to say oh, so diplomatically. That sort of thing had carried him further than he had expected, if he was being frank with himself. If he was being just a touch more, he would have admitted that that same emotionality and tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve...had also gotten him into a fair amount of trouble as well.
But he would have been a stony, hard-hearted sort if the sight of the massive and gorgeously alien Ring didn't make his spirit skip at least a few beats. It had when he had first seen it and it did now again once more, drawing his form closer and leaning into the portside observation window. This was precisely the sort of the thing he joined up for. The sort of things he needed to escape Earth to see. He wondered momentarily if the "Nightshade" biome had changed at all since his last arrival. However, his thoughts and emotions were instantly tangled up in something else as he continued the approach. His ultimate destination. The sight of which made Quentin's heart leap as well as skip. Even more so than it already was.
The U.S.S. Juneau and U.S.S. Eagle
Both hanging nobly and proudly in a comfortable grav-anchored orbit above the expansive Ring 42. Quentin liked to joke that he had only served on the Juneau for "about an hour", but his time on both ships, serving with their equally noble and whip-smart crews, had irrevocably changed Quentin Collins. Forged him into the man and officer that he was this very moment, coming to comfortable and sure-footed landing eventually in the impressive holds of the Juneau.
He had came to Starfleet as so much salt-encrusted "raw clay". Landing the middle of a fraught mission and saluting the wrong Bajoran Commander like the dock trash he was. Later on, his bone deep need to prove himself nearly gotten a number of his first Away Team killed. Had gotten himself shot for the trouble. The scar was gone, but the deep pang of shame and realization still stabbed at his shoulder when he thought of the mission. How his career had almost been dashed before it had a chance to flourish.
Then...the oddest things had happened. Oddas Aria and Randal Shayne had happened. Both taking the time to council and...dare say, mentor him. Allowing him the chance to see the error of his ways and marshal his efforts and ambition into something that would help him and his crew. Rather than hinder them. They had showed him the way, in conjunction with other more seasoned and learned peers across both ships and their Sickbays. It was down to him to walk it.
And walk it, he did. He had craved, NEEDED change after Collinsport. Starfleet finally allowed him the platform and opportunity for such change. And it had opened the door to all manner of adventures. Some soaring, others...crushing. Loss and triumph and heartbreak and victory. Swirling and pitching through planets, places, and people that dominated Quentin's Memory Palace. The Mithglin. Starlight Market, with dear Cosmini and his insane shop. The People. The Bombing of The Spike. That hellish week that had led them to Kerek Tor. Hal Mika. Kayla Drex. Chief Irina Pavlova. 
((Interior. U.S.S. Juneau, Shuttlebay 1.))
He stepped up and off the Shuttlecraft, telling himself it was the rapidly cooling Impulse coils that were drawing the thin bead of tears to his eyes. Not the thought to those he had lost and rose to honor every day. As person and Starfleet Officer. THE Starfleet Officer they and these wonderous ships had built him into. Would his former ships recognize the person he was now? Would his friends and peers left in his transfer to the Arrow? He clutched his garment bag closer to his uniformed chest.
There was really only one way to find out. And it was always terrifying to do so. He took a few steadying breaths. Soaking in the kinetic energy and cutting-edge vibrations of a ship that would always be dear to him (despite his...less then lengthy assignment to her).
Zh'zan: Quentin! Quentin, over here! 
He turned to the familiar voice. The shining face of Avotta Zh'zan greeted him with an animated wave. She was flanked by the happy forms of Vrir Jorus and Gaofrem Terumak. Some of Quentin's first and fast friends on the Eagle. They were unfurling a sort of sign between them all. Blue paint on a black backdrop. 
"Welcome Home(s), Quentin!" it read.
Quentin Collins beamed, silently cursed the reaction he was having to those blasted cooling Impulse coils once more, and swept them all into a tight and good-natured embrace.
To Be Continued!

Lieutenant Commander 

Quentin Collins III

Chief Science Officer


U.S.S. ARROW NCC-69829

ID: E239512QC0



(SB118 Forums



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