Lt. JG Foval | Making moves on and off the board | Wrong move? | Learning more
Foval arched an eyebrow at the use of the term sore losers. In his experience, the phenomena was not limited to one gender. He wasn't sure if this was an appropriate come back to the conversation, instead he simply added. "I am not aware of any variant of this game that causes inflammation or discomfort. He held up a knight as he made his next move. "In extreme cases, ut may be that the pieces themselves are made from allegens or other material with an irritant effect."
He listened to her speak about Klingons and for a moment he became worried that he had engaged in something that the humans had called "mansplaining" pontificating on the Klingons to someone who had probably more experience in them then he thought.
"The El-Aurian history is an interesting one." He said as she described her own people. "I believe the 'exception that proves the rule'. Nevertheless, I am sure that there are El Aurains who compete in different ways. Perhaps in some ancient era, your people may have been split into tribal states according to species and land that made war on each other in much the same way until you decided against continuing that path. If true, it would certainly be earlier than Vulcans.
Whe watched her move as he spoke. Each movement was fascinating to him. She was a paradox to him A source of comfort, yet still something of a mystery. He was worried that he was staring, and decided to ask another question.
"If I may be so bold, where did you learn this game? You do indeed play a g
since my photoshop skills are basicly non existent I'd like to ask you for a piece of artwort of Logan Hale and Alessia Garcia posing together infront of a Valravn as a couple of besties (they had a sibling like relationship).
Thank you very much in advance.
Greetings from Germany
Last post by Swift -
[ Lt. JG Kate Foster | Intensive Care Unit | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Aharon @Pierce @Griffinsummoner
Kate couldn't help but allow a broad grin to cross her face once Tessa let out a hearty bout of laughter in response to her teasing, since in a very real way she had hoped to elicit just that kind of a reaction from her friend. In relatively short period of time, Tessa had come to be an important part of Kate's life, which spoke to a deeper developing connection between the two of them. It was something that the blonde surgeon hadn't really found the requisite time to explore in recency, mostly due to her own faults. But here and now, she was starting to understand that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to let someone in and become something special once more. Sure, Kate had made some other friends since coming to Theurgy, Vinata immediately came to mind as one whom Kate had felt a strong mutual comradeship with, and whom she could trust implicitly, but there hadn't yet been anyone that she had considered to be something more, save maybe one other.
Blinking a little in surprise at how 'he' had come to the forefront of her thoughts for a second time, Kate realized that she was splitting a personal part of herself between Tessa and Scruffy and began to worry that maybe it would come to hurt one or both of them.
Would she ultimately need to choose between one or the other?
Then her mind snapped back to, as Tessa's bruised but still alluring facial features perked up in such a way that elicited her total attention once more. Her fellow blonde was an absolute stunner, as Kate had personally remarked upon previously, and when combined with an utterly fun personality made Tessa one of the most intriguing people Kate had come to know. "I like seeing you smile." She commented simply, shifting her weight a little so that she might sit on the side of the bio-bed beside the wounded pilot, still facing her as she peered into those heterochromatic eyes. They made Kate want to reveal a little more of what was troubling her, and as she bit her lower lip bashfully, her own tangerine orbs trailed away for a faint moment. In due time, she knew that she would do just that; that she would spill he guts to Tessa and explain how she had frozen up when she saw her in such a banged-up state. How she had very nearly lost every last shred of her wherewithal to act as a Doctor, and more importantly as a concerned friend.
But not now.
For now, she wanted to just revel being in Tessa's pleasant presence. "I'd say you were trying too hard." Kate giggled in response to Tessa's cheeky prompt, any sense of trouble that had momentarily bubbled to the top once more simmering back down below the surface. "But I guess in the long run, I'm not necessarily complaining. I mean, you're here after all." Winking wryly to Tessa, Kate crossed one of her long legs under the other as she scooted around on the bio-bed so that she could be a little more comfortable. Reaching out with one of her delicate hands, she carefully brushed the stray hair that had fell over Tessa's face back so that it didn't obscure her, then let the hand rest at the periphery of her ear for just a moment until she let the pilot's advice sink in and do as she might. Leaning in, Kate hastily brought her lips to bear and pressed them gently to Tessa's own in a show of affection, not really caring if anyone else tending to other patients might have noticed.
After a few seconds of sharing the serenely sweet lip lock, Kate pulled back a few inches so that she might peer more closely into Tessa's eyes, once more letting a little giggle escape her as she was momentarily overwhelmed.
"I hope that wasn't something you wouldn't have done."
OOC: Tagging other writers whose characters were mentioned.
[ Lt. Rhys Williams | Arboretum | Deck 22/Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Sqweloookle
Soon Rhys felt his hands being taken in the other man's. He just stared at their joined hands for a moment. He heard Adam's words as his heart rate picked up. They sounded like they were coming from far away or underwater as he struggled with the thoughts in his head. The fact that Adam called him darling brought some warmness to his cheeks however.
"I am not really sure what you can do." Rhys had worried if he opened his mouth he may cry, but he had moved beyond that and just felt numb. He wasn't sure he could explain exactly what happened to Adam or anyone really. He still avoided Adam's gaze and just squeezed his hands. He needed to try and explain it however, just to get it out there. "One of my patients killed someone, and... I couldn't cope with it." He said finally raising his eyes to Adam's. His gaze was unfocused, and his voice sounded far away.
It was certainly the most succinct way he cold have put it. His patient had murdered someone. Rhys had spiralled into a pit of self loathing. He had been unable to do his job and avoided going to therapy himself understandably Commander Hatev had relieved him of duty till he sort help.
[ Lt. Rhys Williams | Chief Counselor's office | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @P.C. Haring
Rhys was not worried by the harshness of the Commander's tone. It was no less harsh than the things he had been saying to himself in recent days. He had served with Vulcans before and felt on some level he understood them. They could be direct and frank sometimes excessively so, at least for interacting with a more emotional species. However, it almost never came from a place of malice. The intention was not to hurt him, but to signal that she understood what he meant. Rhys was happy to take it in the spirit it was meant. He simply nodded to what she said.
As she pointed out that his premise was in error he again nodded. "Indeed, if I had thought about it more... logically I would have seen things in a different light. After all my problems are noted in my file and I was still able to become a counsellor." In fact, he had been briefly Chief Counsellor of the USS Cayuga. A much smaller ship of course and never a role he felt comfortable in. Rhys was not a natural leader.
When she asked if he could again confide and seek treatment from Stellan and herself. Rhys smiled this time. "Definitely, I believe he and I have developed a rapport." For a moment he realised that this might sound like he was dismissing her as a source of help. "And I feel much more comfortable coming to you Sir." IT was true she had done much in this meeting to set his mind at ease.
Last post by Swift -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Turbolift Shaft | IKS Ta'Rom ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Stegro88 @Griffinsummoner
The window for exfil was hastily closing on Fisher, who sprinted along a lengthy corridor that ran perpendicular to the hangar bay from one side of the ship to the other. Heavy boot falls echoed back after him in a staccato which barely matched the alacritous beat of the heart bounding away within his chest, all while every muscle inside each of his strong legs burned as though they were saturated with battery acid instead of blood. Just making it to the opposite side of the Ta'Rom had cost him nearly a third of his self-imposed deadline, and he still needed to ascend the stairwell which would take him to the upper level of the hangar. It would be close, but theoretically he had just enough time to make back in time for escape, that is, barring any major interference from the unending tide of Klingons which were pursuing him. As he reached the base of the passageway though, he found himself growing increasingly confident that he could and would make it after all, as it seemed to be entirely devoid of obstacle.
Some luck maybe?
Taking deep breaths which did little to assuage the effects of exhaustion that were beginning to besiege him, Fisher climbed several steps with each long stride until he emerged unto a platform which served as a control room and looked out on the hangar beyond. He could even see a member of the away team, Rivard probably, dropping down into the still-cloaked vessel which hung upside down. "I'm just about there!" Fisher announced through the active comms, moving over to where a hatch would give him access to a gangway that ran just close enough to the Apache that he could conceivably make a short leap to the open and waiting ramp. In the back of his mind, Fisher could almost taste the spoils of his planned dinner with Rutherford, as confidence began to settle in. This had worked. This crazy insane plan had worked, maybe not without the loss of a comrade, but in the end Cabrera's sacrifice would have been worth it, as they were about to turn the tide of this whole internal strife among the Klingons around in their favor.
So close now.
"Is everyone else aboard the--" about to check on the status of the rest of the team, Fisher stepped ever closer to the hatch when he heard footsteps from behind, only just managing to dip his head out of the way of a swung bat'leth which had clearly been meant to decapitate.
Pressing his pistol to the stomach of his attacker, Fisher squeezed the trigger in rapid succession, instantly burning a series of holes through him as thick globules of crimson blood splattered against the bulkhead behind. The first Klingon dropped to the decking in a heap, only for a second to surge forward in his stead, a mek'leth swinging in a wide arc which caused Fisher to dive and roll away from the hatchway. Sprawling along the platform, he spun round on his back and raised his weapon to fire only to have it swatted away by the bladed weapon. His hand stung, but he had no time to focus on that added pain as his assailant lunged atop of him, attempting to plunge the mek'leth into his chest. Grunting as his aching ribs crunched beneath the added weight of the Klingon, Fisher clutched tightly at his opponent's wrists, desperate to stave off an imminent death. A thought to reach for his own knife came to mind, but there was simply no way he could realistically get to it and keep his enemy at bay.
"--nnngh! Apache! G--" he grunted, very much aware that the seconds were hastily counting down on him.
The Klingon groaned and hissed as he pushed with all his might, the blade drawing nearer to piercing through the left side of Fisher's chest. Shuffling his weight just enough beneath the heavy warrior, the spy managed to evade the initial stab attempt as his strength failed him. Angrily, the Klingon snarled as his mek'leth stuck itself two or three inches deep into the metal deck plating and wedged there. There was no respite though, as the Klingon immediately moved to grab a D'k tahg knife from where it had been sheathed at his side, giving Fisher just enough of a chance to reach for his own knife, and parry a dis-coordinated lunge at him. On the return, the spy slashed across the throat of the Klingon, causing blood to heavily spray down onto his face as the warrior gradually went limp. With ragged breath, Fisher shoved the dead lump off of him and scrambled back to his feet. Was there still time? He had to move if there was, but before he could even take a step something had clutched at his ankle.
Tripped up, Fisher dropped to his hands and knees and saw that the first Klingon hadn't yet succumbed to the wounds blasted through his midsection, instead he had latched onto Fisher with one bloodied hand, while the other was clutching at a Klingon pulse grenade.
"Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam!" The control room exploded in a green fireball.
A second later, down on the main flight deck, Fisher landed hard on his back, ears ringing and his world spinning about him as he had somehow just barely cleared the radius of the explosion when it had gone off. Though he hadn't been spared entirely, as he had been thrashed by the shockwave and tossed violently as he tumbled down the stairwell. All around, he heard dozens of encroaching steps as they drew nearer.
"...Go!" coughing as he was surrounded, everything soon went black as boot met his forehead.
CH07: S [D03|1840] A BATTERED WELCOME
APRIL 18, 2381
[ Ens. Vinata Vojona | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] ATTN: @Luciain @Tae
"Sorry to trouble you again Nurse Vojona. I've been waiting for those supplies for about thirty minutes now." A young female enlisted officer, one of the ward clerks for the Sickbay area sheepishly interrupted Vinata, who was tiredly occupied with an array of several different PADDs on the Head Nurses' station within Sickbay. "Just wanted to check in..."
Vinata had found it increasingly difficult to focus on his tasks, several times now he had attempted to stay on top of an ever growing amount of tasks on his 'to-do' list. This was very unusual for him, usually the Ovri was quite organized in his approach when it came to his duties. He would have likely not have been selected to lead the nursing and support staff of the medical department on Theurgy otherwise.
"Oh... Yes..." The Ovri's voice seemed on edge as he acknowledged the reminder. "I am sorry, Crewman Bentley. I..." The Ovri paused for a moment before accessing his control panel. A rather sad chirp had been expelled as Vinata realised he had simply forgotten to push the supply requisition request off to logistical support. "I will get to that with haste. My apologies once more."
Crewman Bentley nodded and chose to not make anything more of it. She could see how visibly disturbed the new Head Nurse appeared to be. She did not know Vinata all that well, but enough that she knew forgetfulness certainly did seem out of character for him. "Thank you." She offered the Ovri a genuine smile before making her own way to help ensure the ongoing cleanup was progressing nicely in the Surgical Suite.
Vinata pushed the supply requisition through and sighed. This was -not- good. He needed to pull himself together. Part of him wondered where Kate was off too, he had last seen her visiting with her friend Tessa. The Ovri was pleased she had done well and was on the road to recovery.
[Head Nurse Vojona. There are incoming medical personnel, direct transfers from the Oneida. Estimated arrival within the next three minutes. They will be beamed directly into the Main Sickbay area.] The voice of Thea echoed from his desk-station. Doctor Tyre had left Theurgy to partake in an away mission, and with other Physicians tied up in duties, he could only stipulate that Thea had discerned that he was the available party to welcome the transfers to Sickbay.
"Thank you Thea." Vinata replied calmly and rose from his seat. His tunic and skirt uniform were still stained in blood. Had he not even taken a brief moment to change since the earlier battle? No - Vinata had carried on with his duties as best as possible since the terrible events of earlier had taken place. Rather he forgot how disheveled he appeared although given the state of those around him, he certainly was not alone in that. The state of Sickbay was rather embarrassing. The area had taken heavy damage during the battle and due to the insurgence of Klingons and their ravaging-Gorn beasts.
"Relief staff... Yes... This is good news." He nodded to himself as he spoke, trying to find some silver lining in their current situation. News of the Oneida's arrival had travelled down to the bowels of Sickbay, with a welcomed reply from everyone. The medical staff on board Theurgy had taken a hard hit during this last battle, many had died, those left behind had to bear the scars of the horrific events. Vinata himself could barely manage to keep up on things, despite his best efforts.
They needed help. It was most welcome.
The Ovri straightened out his bloodied uniform before making way to the beam-in site to welcome those who would join the crew-of-the-damned. Vinata did his best to smile and put on some facade of calmness.
OOC: @Auctor Lucan Feel free to adjust our time if you feel it does not align properly. We gave our best estimate.
[ Lt. Andrew Fisher | Codename: Bishop | Rena Resistance Bivouac | Dalaria City | Betazed ] Attn: @stardust
Casting a somewhat wry glance at the other man as he pointed out the reality regarding the Jem'Hadar Battlecruiser hovering in the distance, Fisher understood that in the grand scheme of things his stubborn persistence in seeing it gone made him seem like a madman, stuck in his ways until they would ultimately consume him. But what Brody hadn't factored into the equation, was that when Fisher had accepted this suicide mission, he had been explicitly instructed that there would be no early retreat, or any retreat at all for that matter. The mission would either succeed, and Betazed would be liberated by the Federation and its allies, or the mission would fail, and he and all the other volunteers would have perished in the fight. Sure, the fatalism of Operation 'Spark' was something that had naturally attracted someone in the kind of precarious mental state within which he had been mired ever since Nass had bled out in his arms, but Fisher still very much preferred victory to defeat. And despite all of the pain, anguish, and regret which besieged his emotional senses, he wasn't totally without the will to keep going.
However, as he let Brody's words seep into his conscious thought, breaking them down and the meanings hidden within them, he couldn't escape the inherent truth that the man was espousing, perhaps without even intending to. Whether or not Nassyra was still living, meant little when it came to what she would have wanted for him. If anything, her death, which he believed had come as a direct result of his inability to abandon a mission and his sense of duty, only exacerbated the internal conflict raging in his mind.
"You're not wrong." He admitted, somewhat begrudgingly, but all the same.
Crossing his arms over his chest he allowed himself a moment wherein he genuine wondered if maybe it was time to give this up. If he had done his part well enough, and that he could finally return behind the lines to recuperate and regather himself. It was an alluring premise, for sure. Every part of Fisher's body had grown weary over the long haul of two-weeks of hard fighting. His conscious thought a veritable raging torrent of mixed emotions that could have kept the most talented of Counseling Officers occupied for months on end. Doubt began to creep forward into the forefront of his thoughts now, stirred by Brody from where it had been nestled away at the back, and the sage-eyed bearded man began to imagine himself back home in Boston for a respite from all of this. A chance to try and heal the myriad wounds of his body and soul, restoring himself so that he might be a better soldier once more, and more importantly a better man.
Yet the moment it had all started to feel like it was the right thing for him to do, his attention came snapping back from the precipice of where Brody had placed him as the sound of atmospheric turbulence shrieked and howled high overhead.
"They're here! They found us!" announced Ebirone as he came charging up the stairwell that led down into the main level of the bivouac.
Shooting a look of concern at Brody, Fisher then stormed off past the big Betazed and descended the stairs in a hurry. Behind him he could hear Ebirone hot on his heels, and when he reached the staging-area he saw Sariah corralling her people into action. "How the hell did they track us?! Why didn't our sensor grid pick them up?!" she shouted at Christine who was nearby, hastily running her hands over a console in an attempt to understand. All about and around them, the panicked and scared people who couldn't fight were gathering up what little personal affects they could, while the blue-skinned Betrull hustled to divvy out weapons to whomever was sturdy enough to carry one. From behind, Ebirone patted Fisher on his shoulder and offered him a primed Jem'Hadar disruptor, which he accepted.
"I don't know! The sensor grid is functioning! It just didn't detect them for some reason!" Christine shouted back.
"Never mind that! We need to get these people into the escape tunnels. Now!" Ebirone retorted.
Nodding in succinct agreement, Fisher began pushing his way through the panicked people toward the escape trunk that would feed down into the tunnels beneath the old building. "C'mon!" he called after Brody, very much in need of the sort of hand he could offer. "Move! Move out of the way!" he shouted at the crowd, most of which was too panicked to even notice his voice calling out them. Soon the ground and everything around them shook with a visceral tremor, and for an instant the spy figured the building about to collapse unto him and everyone else. The people cried out in terror as the walls rumbled, and dust particles fell from the ceiling rafters above them.
"Bombardment?!" blurted out Betrull.
"No! If it was a bombardment, we've have been crushed already." Fisher replied, peering back at the Bolian.
"Then what was that?!"
"Landing." Fisher answered simply. "They're probably setting up a perimeter." He added.
"We need to go!" Sariah commanded, and Fisher acknowledged with a nod.
"Wait!" cried out another voice. "They won't kill anyone so long as we don't run!" explained Aatrah with an alarming reasoning hidden in his voice. "If we drop our weapons, and give up, they promised they wouldn't kill anyone!" The young Betazed cast the gaze of his black-eyes from his sister, to Ebirone, and lastly to Fisher and Brody.
"What... how... what do you mean, they promised? What're you talking about, kid?" Ebirone approached where Aatrah stood.
The silence that persisted from Fisher and from Sariah spoke to the realization that they'd already had, which Ebirone didn't want to himself have out of some sense of heartbreaking disappointment that his pseudo-adopted little brother could have made such a monumental mistake. "We don't have time for this, we need to get into the tunnels!" Fisher sought to re-clarify the necessity of escape, knowing they had precious few moments to get moving before the Jem'Hadar would overrun the bivouac. He had already understood what was happening and knew that any arrangement that had been made would never be kept in earnest by the Dominion. He just knew that dealing with who had done what was nothing more than a distraction, and that the paramount need to get everyone out was just that.
"No! Don't! Ebb! I swear, they said they wouldn't hurt anyone if we didn't run! Please!?" Aatrah pleaded, holding out his hands to both Ebirone, hoping that his sister would intervene on his behalf. "Sar... please! They only want them!" the young Rena pointed to Brody and Fisher, and then cast a sympathetic glace back to his sister who seemed stuck in her place.
Fisher heard what was said, but didn't react, having already assumed that he'd been offered up in some kind of an arrangement that the younger Rena had struck.
Lt Sabrina Lail | Main Bridge | Deck 1 | USS Oneida ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Brutus @BipSpoon
Not diverting her eyes from the viewscreen, Sabrina observed the subtleties of the Theurgy officers as Lieutenant Commander Natalie Stark and Captain Jackson negotiated a plan of action with the Oneida's newfound arrival in orbital formation over Qo'noS. She wasn't quite certain what she was looking for - after all, the Theurgy were allies and only hours earlier she had spoken to Captain Ives regarding the Qo'noS situation and the Theurgy. However, given the events of the past hour, could she be blamed for being guarded after arriving at the Sabine's destination to a scenario she did not expect? Lail pushed all that aside when Stark and Jackson came to a quorum.
A small sense of relief came over Sabrina as Jackson agreed to pursue a potentially inbound Romulan warbird with the support of launching Theurgy warp fighters. The Iroquois-class was in no condition for a full-scale fleet engagement over Qo'noS should one break out but even with the damage and repairs thereto, the Oneida could however take on a single threat with support, Lail thought.
With the ship-to-ship communications channel closed, the Theurgy bridge being replaced by the forward view, the damaged bridge of the Oneida once more came to life as words were put into action. The shields were lowered for the transport of officers immediately aiding the Theurgy and the coordinates of the Romulan threat were received and routed to Sabrina's station at the front of the bridge. "Captain," Sabrina turned slightly as she entered the vector into the LCARS display, "we received the coordinates of the Romulan warbird from the Theurgy. The indicated coordinates are deeper in this sector beyond Praxis," Lail stated.
"Lieutenant," Captain Jackson began as he adjusted his posture in the command chair, "once our Tactical CONN officers and the requested medical staff disembark, put us in formation with the Theurgy's warp fighters and set course for the designated coordinates."
Sabrina nodded her head in acknowledgment of the order while turning to face directly forward. She began inputting commands into the Oneida's computer to maneuver the vessel away from the Theurgy and into a flight formation with the newly launching warp fighters - the smaller Iroquois-class starship distancing itself from the significantly larger vessel.
"Transports complete," the Oneida's Operations officer stated.
"Raising shields," Lieutenant Commander Ikthan notated.
Executing commands, the Oneida maneuvered from its original position parallel to the Theurgy to a plane above the larger vessel nearing the launching warp fighters rally point.
"Ready for warp," Lail declared as she made final adjustments to the position of the Oneida to clear the vessel from the Theurgy and provide it a warp fighter screen.
As Sabrina maneuvered the Oneida, Ops and Tactical were busy coordinating with the warp fighters in preparation for the intercept under the mission parameters sent over by the Theurgy. With the warp fighters launched and the Oneida in position, Captain Jackson gestured to engage the intercept course. Following the warp fighters, with a press of one button by Lail, the Oneida's three working warp engines powered up and the turquoise glow emanating from the engines illuminated the surrounding space as the starship followed the Theurgy's fighters into warp - on course for the Romulan warbird.
Last post by Eden -
Lt. JG Callax Valin | Deck 7 | Iota Eridani Starfleet Aerospace Command Facility ] Attn: @P.C. Haring @Lathaniel @SaraKnight
Callax stepped down the ramp and into the shuttlebay of the Iota Eridani Starfleet Aerospace Command facility with a confident swagger. What few belongings he had were packed neatly in a rucksack draped over one shoulder. Despite the literal weight on his shoulders he walked as if on clouds. After all, he had been handpicked for this assignment. 'Advanced fighter training,' his commanding officer had called it as if knowing exactly how to stoke the young officer's interest. The chance to learn how to fly an advanced fighter craft was not an opportunity he would easily pass up.
The shuttlebay was a rush of activity as other shuttles landed and disembarked their passengers. Other training candidates, Callax thought as he pressed onwards towards what appeared to be the gathering space. A Benzite sporting lieutenant commander pips seemed to be organizing the new arrivals, positioning them into orderly rows as NCOs began checking in each of the trainees with PADDs in hand. Piercing blue eyes began to size up his classmates--his competition--as they began to join the mustering formation. Some looked excited. A Renao looked somewhat uncomfortable. Others just seemed to stare blankly ahead, dispositions unreadable. Eventually, a high pitched voice returned his attention forward as an Andorian looked up at him and began tapping on his PADD.
"Callax Valin. Serial number XV-014-106. USS Jadestone," he replied with an even tone. He did not quite stand at attention but he did straighten his posture as the Andorian tapped quickly on their PADD. "Identity confirmed. You will be quartered on Deck 7, Cabin 5. Please proceed to your quarters. Mandatory assembly will be at 0930 on Deck 2."
And with that the Andorian moved on to the next in line. Checking the time it was clear he had arrived early and would be in no rush to make it to the assembly. Stepping forward he adjusted the rucksack on his shoulder and made for the turbolift.
When the door to the turbolift opened on Deck 7, the corridor looked like a scene from his first day at the Academy. Trainees with luggage of various sizes were milling about. Most seemed to set about searching for their room assignments while others engaged in small talk. After a bend in the corridor and many nodded heads in greeting he found his room and entered. Inside was a standard two-bunk configuration likely familiar to any junior officer whose quarters likely looked the same on their starships. There was no window so Callax simply took the bunk on the right. For whatever reason he always preferred the right and his bunkmate had not yet arrived to claim their own.
Dropping his back onto the bed, he began to unpack his belongings which consisted of just clothes and the bare essentials necessary for what was not expected to be a long assignment. Checking the time again he set an alarm and laid back on his bunk, arms raised behind his head. Best enjoy what rest he could get now because the storm was surely coming.
OOC: If folks are still interested in writing in this, feel free to claim the other bunk for some character development. Can do a timeskip to the events of that lead to the demise of the facility in parallel.