Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

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Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

December 20, 2024, 02:11:04 AM

ATTN: All Active Writers

While not quite spectacular enough to have androids sing about it, the wee cael pulex was nonetheless poised in the perfect spot to witness the upcoming battle. It hadn’t intended on being in such a position; in faction, the cael pulex has such a small brain it is debated whether it has the capacity to intend anything beyond the necessary functions to exist (that of eating, defecating, and reproduction). However poised it was, and poised it would remain. Unless, of course, it managed to find its way into the path of weapons fire traded between the Romulans, Klingons, and Federation ships (not that it could recognize these races or even grasp the danger it was in by remaining in this area of space).

Thus, while Admiral Vrotait, aboard a D'deridex class Romulan vessel, communicated battle plans with General Nacur on one of the Valdore class ships, and Commander Toldar on a D-7 class ship, the cael pulex drifted into a bit of “space dust” and began munching away at some delectables found within the collection. Chewing on its dinner, the cael pulex couldn’t be bothered by the quick action of Major Lelan as she led the first squadron of Romulan Stalker fighters against their enemies. Neither could it be bothered when Sublieutenant Havat challenged Sublieutenant Dahee to see who could kill the most Klingons in the onslaught.

The minuscule cael pulax, so small that only specialists with special instruments could even detect it, continued to care not a whit for the comings and goings of the big creatures and their vessels when General Eklom, onboard a Vor’cha class Klingon vessel, issued commands to Brigadier Ujal on a Negh’Var class ship, who then relayed the commands to Captains Nevi and Gokless, commanding K’t’inga and D-5 class ships respectively. The only time the cael pulax “flinched” in all this was when Commander Bulak, on board a Raptor class, moved his ship close to the cluster of space dust the cael pulax presently called its dining room, positioning the Klingon ship in such a way that Lieutenants Eklish, Otaq, and Pungol, flying Phantom Raiders, could respond directly against the Romulan Stalker fighters.

Thankfully, it was not enough of a disturbance to the cael pulax that it felt the need to move on to another bit of space dust. It remained content, albeit on the front lines of mayhem, unaware of how this battle was the result of an Infested Romulan Praetor sending her forces after her political rival and her rival’s (potentially temporary) allies. Hadn’t been able to comprehend the initial communications of threats and bluffs between the Praetor’s forces and her rivals when they’d finally come together, and neither had it understood the ramifications of the Federation vessel inserting itself between these two groups or noted how the third group (Klingons) attempted to flank both groups of Romulans. When first strikes occurred, from cloaked ships among both sets of Romulans and Klingons, the cael pulax again hadn’t noticed or cared.

While the vacuum of space around it began to fill with the debris of broken vessels and maimed bodies of those unlucky enough to be aboard the broken vessels, the cael pulax enjoyed its dinner and relished its tiny existence.

GM Notes: This will be the main thread for the intro to the battle beginning, and everyone on the Erudite, Ranger, and Helmet should post at least one time to establish where they're going/doing in the subsequent battle. Understand, there are more ships (of various classes) than those named here, so in the main two objectives (take out Romulan fighters, take out Tal'aura's forces), have fun with what/who you want to name from among the enemy/ally forces.

We encourage you to do other smaller threads of your choice/interest and so encourage you to recruit writers to fit with the objective you wish to address (threads move more quickly with groups of 3-6). These objectives can/should take place in separate threads as Supplementals. More than one supplemental can address an objective if the writers are focusing on the objective from a different perspective.

UNDERSTAND YOU'LL NEED TO CHECK IN ON ALL THE SUPPLEMENTALS TO MAKE SURE YOU AREN'T DOUBLE DIPPING ON SOME ACTION OR SCREWING WITH DECISIONS MADE IN OTHER THREADS.

There should be the occasional post from a member of these supplementals back in this main battle thread to recap/update major decisions and such in-character ((as in they're reporting to Stark/Cross what they're doing and accomplishing)) as this will help us keep on the same page and track major battle moments without having to note all the details in one place. After the GM notes the return of the Apache and Allegiant in this main thread, the writers in these chapters should likewise make a post of where their characters are and what they're doing before going off to do supplemental threads.

Once the supplemental threads are brought to a close, the battle will be officially finished in this main thread, and all writers are then encouraged to write a final response to the battle ending before the GM FINs this thread.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #1 – January 10, 2025, 10:53:55 AM

ALL ACTIVE WRITERS: @Brutus @Nolan @Havenborn @chXinya @ob2lander961 @Dumedion @rae @Eirual @Griff @tongieboi @Stegro88 @Tae @AbsintheDeux @Sqweloookle @Hans Applegate @RyeTanker @Dree @Galaxymind @Number6 @joshs1000 @Krajin @Pierce @Relatively Insane @Nesota Kynnovan @P.C. Haring @JacenSoloDjo @Eden @TWilkins @SomeBunny @Ellen Fitz

[Triangle Space]

Sometime after the commencement of the battle, at the turning of the tide...

In the ancient Terran Greek plays, they called the phenomenon “deus ex machina,” where a seemingly impossible situation was remedied by seemingly implausible variables. Legendary Starfleet captains of old, and even peers to Captain Ives in the present day, could all testify to having been on the receiving end of such an occurrence once or twice (how else has the Federation continued to endure if not for a friendly push from the occasional deus ex machina?).

Of course, these same captains and the Federation itself had far more often been the victims of “diabolus ex machina,” or the unexpected worsening of a situation (often already terrible enough). In this instance, as Theurgy’s crew faced off on one (or could it be two) fronts with weakened ships and discord among their allies, should an old foe like the Borg show up, that would assuredly be seen as diabolus ex machina. And, in the opposite corner, the sudden arrival of two ships (in this case, the Allegiant and the Apache) at just the right time to fend off what could have been a killing blow to the Ranger or to Chancellor Martok’s fleet ship, would be classified as deus ex machina.

Lucky for the continuation of the Federation and Theurgy’s fight against the Infested threat against it, the latter occurred and NOT the former. Granted, no one on any of the ships had the quiet of mind to think of such literary devices. They were too busy manning their stations in the desperate attempt to stay alive. Perhaps later, when the proverbial dust settled, one or two ivory tower minded would wax eloquent over a glass of Romulan ale.

GM Notes: This opens up the battle thread for the writers of the Apache and Allegiant. Understand that they arrive after the battle has begun so in the supplemental threads, and also this one, you should depict that accordingly (i.e., Hirek arriving on the Allegiant would note the destroyed ships already littering the area as well as responding to arriving in the middle of a battle vs. Enyd, already on the Helmet, would be from the perspective of seeing the battle start).

UNDERSTAND YOU'LL NEED TO CHECK IN ON ALL THE SUPPLEMENTALS TO MAKE SURE YOU AREN'T DOUBLE DIPPING ON SOME ACTION OR SCREWING WITH DECISIONS MADE IN OTHER THREADS.

There should be the occasional post from a member of these supplementals back in this main battle thread to recap/update major decisions and such in-character ((as in they're reporting to Stark/Cross what they're doing and accomplishing)) as this will help us keep on the same page and track major battle moments without having to note all the details in one place. Once the supplemental threads are brought to a close, the battle will be officially finished in this main thread, and all writers are then encouraged to write a final response to the battle ending before the GM FINs this thread.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #2 – January 14, 2025, 02:26:51 PM

[ Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | Bridge Access Corridor | Deck One | Vector One | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]

Lurching violently to the side, a shallow gasp pushing out through his lips, Sylvain braced himself against the edge of the turbolift, a wince harshly playing on his features. They’d known that the battle was coming; he’d known that the battle was coming. Yet no amount of preparation could have braced the Ensign for how sudden and violent that first impact would be, how quickly a red alert could turn into an overloading conduit, how difficult something as simple as walking out of a turbolift could become… This was no skirmish with Talarian fringe elements, scrapping over a few tonnes of stolen food, it was the full might of a Romulan assault force, fighting to ensure the end of the galaxy.

And he had just been commanded, for the first time, to take the CONN.

He’d received the summons only a few moments before the battle had erupted around them, the ship’s computer, Thea, informing him that he was needed on the Bridge immediately. It seemed that their relief pilot was currently manning the CONN, a Caitian who mostly operated the graveyard shift, and since both of the Assistant Chiefs responsible for the helm were otherwise indisposed, it was suddenly Sylvain’s responsibility to take control. It was his job, he supposed… But given that he’d never even been on the Theurgy’s bridge before, much less flown it, nor any ship of equivalent size, and that he hadn’t even seen a battle of this magnitude, not outside of an Academy simulation, he couldn’t help but feel that the terror he was feeling at the prospect was at least somewhat justified.

As inappropriate a thought as it was, Sylvain was sincerely hoping that this officer Sh'ow was actually just a terrible pilot, and that that was the source of the increasingly violent jolts that kept threatening to throw the Ensign off of his feet. If not, Sylvain was about to walk into a nightmare.

It had been barely five hours since he’d stepped off of the Erudite, leaving that particular miasma of anxiety behind him, with Cora’s PDA and the egregious amount of classified, and stolen, Savi data it held, secreted within his pack, and now he had stepped into yet another maelstrom of violence. He’d not had a chance to stop. He had returned to his quarters no longer than a moment before the communication came that all hands were needed to assist with repairs, giving him all of enough time to stow his belongings and the unfortunate Moopsy refugee he’d found himself in the care of, before he was back out the door once again. His engineering skills were somewhat lacking, and truth be told, he probably ended up as more of a hindrance than a help... He wasn’t an engineer, he didn’t know the crew, nor did the crew know him, and three hours of people referring to him ‘Red’, ‘Trill’ and ‘Spots’, left right and centre, had left him with a headache and a rather thin line of patience…

And now he was heading to the bridge, to pilot a vessel he’d never piloted before, in a battle with higher stakes than anything he'd faced before…

Despite his best efforts not to waste time staring out of the viewing ports as he’d commenced his mad scramble towards the turbolift, he’d seen enough of their surroundings to know that what he was about to engage in, was far bigger than anything that the Bowman had taught him… He was wracked with terror; fear, panic, doubt in his own abilities; he was about to have an entire vessel’s worth of lives on his shoulders, and he didn’t even know who he was serving on the bridge… It was a cacophony of emotions billowing through his mind, yet still, he persisted; doing things he’d never done before had been a theme of the past few days.

As he staggered off of the turbolift, head flailing in the unfamiliar corridors to gauge the correct direction, his consciousness did its best to fight off the invasive imaginings of fire and death that plagued his mind, thoughts that he tried desperately hard to interpret as a symptom of idle pessimism, rather than anything precognitive in nature. He could feel phantom heat upon his skin, the sensation of flames burning up his arms… Or perhaps it was just the side-effect of him having broken into a near sprint down the bridge access corridor as the sound of chaos rained in from every direction… It was hard to say either way, but it didn’t change much. He’d pilot their vessel regardless.

If he’d survived the events at the Hobus Star, he could certainly manage a few Romulans…

After all, he’d been roped into inter-species espionage, flown a shuttle across a battlefield in the wake of a high yield energy lance, flown said shuttle into a shield breach the size of a proverbial thimble, landed the shuttle on the side of a space station that was firing upon them, and, arguably, used transporter controls to deploy a bioweapon… Perhaps the last part wasn’t something to be especially proud of, but it had proved to him that he was capable of far more than he would have expected of himself. The away team had needed a distraction, and he’d provided one; it had helped to cause enough chaos on the station that the away team were able to do their jobs, it had saved lives… Plus, the Moopsies had gotten themselves a last supper out of it, and he couldn’t say he found all that much empathy for those working towards the mass-murder of several billion…

If he could do that, he could pilot an unfamiliar ship through a battle; flying was his speciality, after all.

“Ensign Llewellyn-Kth, CONN.” He briskly alerted the Ensign manning the security checkpoint, barely bothering to even slow his pace as he passed the desk and stepped through the doors onto the bridge, losing his footing so suddenly as another violent jolt wracked the ship, that he all but flew across the bulkhead, bracing himself against the mission ops table to prevent himself from hitting the floor… Not the most dignified entrance to the Bridge, but that was also on theme for his past few days.

“Apologies.” He apologised hurriedly as he glanced around, even the chaos of his stressed and addled mind pausing for a split second to admire the brilliance of his new surroundings… There was truly no mistaking the Theurgy as the most advanced ship in the fleet; it made the Bowman look like an antique… Yet the awe lingered only for a split second, before his eyes returned to his destination with a sudden focus, moving at a rapid but professional pace as he stole past the support staff and turned his concentration upon his destination, staring into the back of the Captain’s chair and beyond, to the CONN console.

“Ensign Llewellyn-Kth reporting for CONN.” He called as he darted past the Captain’s chair and down towards his station, a small ripple of perturbation flickering across his face as he noted that the CONN was to the right of the bridge, whilst Sylvain was used to it being centred; it would take some getting used to. Coming to a breathless halt beside the CONN, where the black-furred Caitian was hammering down on the control panel as if they were playing percussion in a Klingon orchestra, the Ensign took a moment to evaluate their circumstances, hazel eyes already alight with analytical scorn as he focussed down on the control panels that flickered underneath the Caitian’s hands, the dazzling array of sensor readings already detailing a rather harrowing set of circumstances before him.

In less stressful circumstances, the Ensign wouldn’t have dreamed of stepping foot onto the bridge of a new vessel without formally addressing the Captain and waiting for permission to take his station; it was an unthinkable act of belligerence to do anything but, after all... However, these were perhaps the most stressful circumstances of his life, and in such trying times, pleasantries sometimes had to wait. He would apologise if they survived the trials ahead, but right now, he had to focus. He had a vessel to pilot.

“Crewman, I'll take it from here; they need you in the shuttlebay.” Sylvain spoke as firmly as possible, his trembling hands thankfully not infecting his mouth with their fear, the few seconds he’d taken to get acclimated with the sensor data already serving as a tonic to cool his tense and flustered mind. Yes, their circumstances were dire, but sensors and data were a safe space for him; there was always an answer in the numbers, a solution, a safe passage, and Sylvain was good at numbers, finding the pattern, solving the problem, reaching the destination… He was no tactician, but he understood how to pilot a ship, and already he was playing through a litany of evasive patterns in his head, analysing them for their pros and cons, discarding those that didn’t fit their needs: Beta, no, Gamma, no, Delta, no, Lambda, no, Theta, no, Epsilon… Epsilon.

If he could thread a shuttle through a breach in the shields of a space station, that was shooting at them, he could manage this.

He’d settled himself into the Caitian’s seat the instant that the crewman was no longer occupying it, narrowly avoiding sitting himself on the officer’s tail, his mind completely occupied with the task at hand, no far corner of his psyche able to compute anything outside of the console his eyes had become affixed to. The console felt uncomfortably warm as his fingers descended onto the glass, clammy almost, but the Ensign pushed the displeasurable sensation out of his focus, fingers dancing a waltz across the panel as he felt the mighty vessel’s engines flex under his control for the first time.

It was like a sip of iced water on a hot afternoon on Vulcan…

This was what Admiral Anderson had sent him here to do. His departure from the Bowman, lying to Captain Yume’s face despite everything she’d done for him, despite the danger that the Bowman themselves were flying into. The weeks he’d spent being ferried across the quadrant, avoiding conversations and having to be elusive with everyone he’d met, seizing up every time a security officer so much as glanced in his direction. The time spent in a stupor aboard the Klingon transport vessel, and every inch of grotesquery he’d been witness to there, the sleepless nights and the constant images of himself being stabbed in his sleep by some parasite-infested Klingon. His harrowing misadventures with Cora in the bowels of the Erudite, witnessing their scientific advancements perverted into weapons of mass destruction, and their efforts to liberate the Moopsies from their fate. The battle he’d fought at the Hobus Star, everything he’d pushed through just to survive this far, the aid he’d provided in halting a genocidal attempt to destroy the Romulan Empire…

Now, finally, after all of that, he’d found himself sitting in front of the console that he’d been recruited for, his control over the USS Theurgy’s engine for the first time rippling up through his arms like a calming salve against his wracked nerves. The console was unfamiliar, so was the vessel, but the data was not. The Theurgy may have been far bigger than the Bowman, but somehow she responded even more lithely, dancing through the void as he shifted their evasive pattern and banked to starboard as the Romulan torpedoes thundered through their wake like a pair of drunken Cadets too late for a party. Sylvain almost notice a tiny smile slip onto his lips.

He might have been a terrible intelligence agent, a poor engineer, downright atrocious at socialising... But he was a brilliant pilot.

“CONN reporting, moving into evasive pattern Epsilon Eight.” He called calmly, fingers flying across the panel in a blur of pale flesh, as the behemoth of a ship that stretched out over one thousand metres from his seat, eagerly responded to his commands. “Engine power holding steady at eighty seven percent, Tactical let me know what you need and I’ll get us into position.” His voice rang out over the din of the bridge, unsure as to who his colleagues even were in this conflict, unknowing as to the names of the people around him that he was tasked with keeping safe from the volleys of weapons fire that was locked onto their vessel like the only port in an ion storm… Yet it didn’t matter; he’d give his everything no matter who they were.

That, after all, was what it meant to be Starfleet.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #3 – January 15, 2025, 06:12:24 AM

Having taken the opportunity to freshen himself up a bit with a clandestine use of the pilots’ locker room and showers, though in fairness the deck crew’s locker room was half filled with soot and half wrecked, so Lok’s use of the officers’ facilities was more than fair in his mind. Still he hadn’t wished to get caught, not that he was totally successful, luckily he was only caught by Lieutenant Winters who was more than willing to look the other way and help his exhausted fellow Kzin’s mood. Mood now improved, though still exhausted from the day of combat and near constant damage control, Lok, now comfortable in a clean set of coveralls, looked over the flight deck from the back of the hangar bay.

The place was a mess but was a far sight better than what it had been hours before. The jumbled mass of fighters had been reorganized, now with the addition of others that had been attached to the Vector 1 module, into two neat rows in preparation for the coming battle. The only one out of place was Ghost’s fighter, shoved off to the side for Lok to inspect later. At a glance it appeared to be ok, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he got a good look at the frame and warp core. The hard landing and subsequent uncommanded launch and detonation of a quantum torpedo inside the hangar could have been enough to shear the pylon roots or buckle the core assembly frame. Either way the damaged Valkyrie, still on its belly and partially rolled onto one side, was safely stored in the port bow corner of the hangar under a tarp. As for the hangar itself, much of the debris from the explosion was cleaned up, but the scorch marks remained. The starboard side, comprising most of the enlisted personnel’s facilities, was in real rough shape. The operations office and assembly room were burnt out holes, the quantum torpedo having detonated when it struck the bulkhead frame between the two compartments, which had gone a long way to make their job in getting the air wing back up and running that much harder. The armory, the source of much consternation during the fire, had since been cleared of all ordnance, what wasn’t used to rearm the spacecraft was transported to the ship’s better protected torpedo magazines until a full appraisal of the integrity of the armory could be done.

Lok sighed and shook his head at the destruction then made his way down the rows of fighters to give them a once over. Along the way he chatted with mechanics in the process of making some last minute repairs; he answered quests, joked, and did his best to raise spirits. The winds of fate had placed him in charge of this now depleted group, at least for the moment, who knew what the higher ups would have in mind to replace Ensign Herrold.

As he reached Janus’s fighter he noted that nobody appeared to be working on it with a panel ajar and an uncomfortable amount of opti-cable spilling out of it. The black furred Kzin sighed once more as he looked over the mess but felt a twinge of energy course through him as he had finally found something to occupy his hands. Without missing a beat, Lok used one of his clawed feet to slide over a rolling stool while also rolling up his sleeves. He took a seat, letting his tail curl up under him out of habit so no passers by would accidentally step on it, then got to work. It was quickly apparent what this spillage of opti-cable was for, the starboard panel screens for the cockpit. Whatever was wrong with them seemed to be fixed, whoever was working on them must have either forgotten to reconnect all the leads or had been called away. Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if they were in a corner passed out, Lok mused to himself, having taken note of the exhaustion all his guys and gals were going through. He started to re-insert the opti-cable back into its designated ports, a simple clip system that once the cable was inserted automatically closed with a satisfying click. Lok’s sensitive ears loved the sounds of his job, and as all those satisfying clicks reached his ears they would twitch and perk up. It honestly was quite the little reprieve, sure he had had a moment with Atlas earlier but just getting to do something with his hands again after a day of giving orders was more than enough to lift Lok’s spirits.

That was until the red alert sounded…

OOC: This sets the state for where Lok is and the current general status of the hangar bay. Further details will be in the thread I make for it which once I do I will also link in this post.

-This thread continues the plot of the battle down on the flight deck.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #4 – January 15, 2025, 06:18:13 AM

Before arrival at the battle site......

[Lt. Commander Frank Arnold | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy]

It was fair to say that if the Chief Engineer was livid. Not that one could tell just by looking at the big burly engineer, but if you knew him well enough, you could see it in his body language. It came down to the way his eyebrows creased together, the tug of his lips that changed the shape of his beard. But most important of them all was the way his blue eyes seemed alight with their own pyschic blue fire as they glared at the sensor plot being fed to the master situation table in engineering. The 'Ranger' portion of Theurgy was charging into battle at the very appreciable velocity many many times faster than the speed of light, and it looked like they were going to make it in time. The only readings that could be seen were mainly Klingon and Romulan. If Theurgy didn't have the transponder code for the Helmet, it probably would have been hidden in the clutter. Nobody was shooting at anyone, so that was a good sign. Chief Arnold quietly sighed at the state of the ship. They probably would have arrived sooned, even with the transfer of equipment and personnel from the Erudite, but the quantum slipstream drive had given everything it had, and the had fizzled out along the way. Azrin had caught the failure in time to make the call for a transition to standard warp drive, but until they could procure a new source of crystals or whatever new parts were needed. That was it, Theurgy was not relegated to the same FTL scale as everyone else.

Frank took a moment to look over at the red headed assistant engineer working on the machinery for the QSD. At least she was work focused, otherwise he felt she'd be crying over the reaction chamber and field generator like her last living child had died. Mentally shaking his head, he looked back at the master plot. The Ranger had sustained minimal damage and all the crews had the repairs well in hand, except for the FAB. The FAB had taken a beating when the torpedo had gone off, and it looked like anyway you cut it, those crews had their work cut out for them. Many others were focusing on the phaser and shield systems. Those two had gotten a warmup against the Romulan carrier, but had the upgraded point defence system had proven its worth in the number of shattered Romulan fighters they'd left behind. They only item of disappointment was the number of quantum torpedoes left on the ship. That number was so pitifully low that he wasn't sure if Commander Cross would just fire them off as an initial strike, or try to save them for something more substantial.

Chief Arnold let out a sigh and tried to not let his mind reminisce on things that couldn't be fixed, but he still wished that the raid on the Black Opal had been a far less dramatic affair. Maybe they wouldn't have wasted so many torpedoes on what amounted to a diversion to get the ship out.

At least lost of the crew was back together. They were even heavy by a good chunk more. The Erudite had timed its intercept very well. It saddened the Chief at the losses that group had taken, even some of the Cayuga crew members who had been rescued. The injured wasn't much better and it had been noticeable for the pair of Andorians on the list. There was no indication of how badly Lieutenants Ida zh'Wann and 'Zark' zh’Ptrell were hurt, but impressions were one would be walking soon, the other needed to be in bed. How well either one would be confined to a hospital bed with battle impending was hard to say, but probably not likely.

He shook his head to stop wool gathering and instead pulled up the ship wide systems status report and ran his eyes over them for the umpteenth time. The eyes flicked to the arrival counter and watched it tick down the ship's next encounter with fate.

[Lieutenant JG XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Primary Care Unit | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy]

"I'm telling you I'm fine! We're going into battle and I need to suit up." came a very annoyed voice sitting in a bio bed in a medical gown.

Arven stopped in his tracks with a brow raised without so much as a glance in the Andorian’s direction; there was simply too much to do and not enough of him (or the other medical personnel) to do it. "Yes, hollering certainly helps," he grumbled. "You know the drill Zark. You've read your own chart by now. We'll get you out as soon as we can."

Zark took the admonition in stride, meaning she swung her legs over the bed and began pushing aside the nurse that was trying to keep her in the bed. "Exactly, you heard the doctor. I'm mobile, so you don't need me taking up a bed. Now if you'll excuse me, point me to where you put my uniform so I can get out of this ridiculous gown."

Arven shook his head, still absorbed in the PADD he was reading. "Sit down Zark," he warned, then turned to wave three more casualties supported by two nurses into the ICU. "That wasn't a request," he added over his shoulder.

Zark politely but firmly pushed her way passed the nurse who began to blubber and headed further in to find a replicator or something else she thought would be useful. "Sorry Doc. We're at battle stations and I need to get to mine." the medic semi apologized as she strode passed him.

Arven rolled his eyes and fell into step beside her, after a gesture for the nurse to move on and aid the others crammed into the ward. "Diprofoxitine. 70 milligrams," he voiced in a condescending, exhausted tone. "Ring any bells, Lieutenant? Care to tell me how you intend to manage your duties under the influence? Better yet," he moved to cut her off, "let's try a practical exercise." Arven stood before her, head and shoulders above the Andorian. "Look, I really don't have time for your stubborn bullshit right now. You know your body, you know your not duty ready. You go out there now, you know damn well you'll be putting yourself and others at risk," he stated flatly; the Doctor simply didn't have the energy to argue - he didn't even try. His staff was calling, people needed him. "Look, I can't stop you and I can't stand here and debate this," he stated.

The Andorian's hands balled up into a fist and she planted them on her hips, then grimaced as her body reminded her that it didn't enjoy being abused. The grimace froze in a curl on her lips that made her look like she was getting ready to spit on his argument. She wanted to tell him that if he'd had any sense to know her service record, doing her job while medicated wasn't unusual. A dull spasm of pain lanced its way through her body as a hand touched her shoulder and she whirled on the worried face of Nurse Jones. "Zark please, the doctor's right, you're barely standing and the microsutures are still fresh. If you don't stay still, he has to open you back up to fix everything. We don't need that now."

Zark felt the weight of persuasion, but she really wasn't ready to give in and her mind spun gears to try to find a solution before turning slowly to face the exhausted doctor once more. "Fine. But give me a tac vest, an assault pistol belt, and a combat stim. I'll stay with the vest open while I'm on the bed and if I have to use any of it, we're screwed anyway and I might as well fight."

Arven met Zark’s defiance with a tired mask of acceptance, then simply nodded before his violet eyes fixed on Jones. "Give her what she wants. Reevaluate in thirty. Discharge once her system is clean if those sutures hold; I'll be in surgery so you'll have to handle it." Arven glanced back at Zark as he moved past: "Get her a uniform, while your at it."

[Lieutenant Ida zh'Wann | Transporter Room 1 | Deck 5 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy]

It was some of the worst possible news which had necessitated the haste for the Deputy to get herself out of sickbay and back to the helmet. Lieutenant Commander Kai Akoni was dead and hostiles were running loose on the ship. This had to be dealt with quickly or the entire mission could come apart. The transporter operator completed the transport cycle and the lone figure in a security exosuit stood on pad. The figure took a moment to punch a few buttons on the LCARS arm interface connecting them to the comm system. "Commander Stark, this is Lieutenant zh'Wann. I'm on board the Helmet and coordinating with Thea to apprehend the intruders. Will advise." she concluded in a flat voice of cold rage as she grabbed the rifle off her back and exited the room. She tapped a few more buttons. "Thea, keep an open link to the Security Centre." There was a moment as the AI processed the request. "Done Lieutenant." The Deputy pulled up the information they had so far and she began building a profile on the move and refining the data that Thea had as she began the hunt for the intruders.

[As the battle rages in the present.....]

[CPO Dominic Lau | Cockpit | Romulan Runabout ]

Chief Petty Officer Dominc Lau took a moment to shift in his seat. His mind couldn't wrap itself around how the motley clandestine group had made it off the Tal Shiar experimental weapons station. Practically nothing had gone right. Well, that wasn't quite true. The mission to retrieve the Thalaron triggers had gone well and they'd also managed to pull a lot of additional intel from various projects the Tal Shir had been running. The station itself was a wreck with unknown biological experiments running rampant along with the experiments in mechanized combat walkers. If events were still panning out, then Petty Officer Cheung's computer virus was still making rounds of the station's computer systems and recovery of control would be extraordinarily difficult.

Cold brown eyes looked over their course to the Triangle as the three stolen Romulan runabouts the group had formed up in a loose gaggle near a ship known as the Apache. Definitley an odd name for a ship, maybe it was a translation of some sort. That didn't matter though. The main point was they had the communication protocol to Theurgy, so the little gaggle of small craft would be able to join whatever was going on.

A mug of tea materialized on the console and the Chief noticed the very feminine hand that deposited it. He looked up and nodded at his comm tech before he looked back out the glass into the star streak. "So Chief, what do you think we'll find when we get to the Triangle?" Chief Lau shrugged. "No idea. I was hoping for a ship what we could land on, but..." He tapped a few buttons in the console and a screen changed showing their path and the destination. The energy readings were varying wildly. Since there wasn't an unstable star or other stellar phenomenon in the area, the computer obediently spat out its view on the situation. Weapons fire. "Nothing good. Hopefully we can slip in unobserved and then we'll figure out where we can do the most good." Klaudia nodded and patted the Chief on the shoulder before heading back to the passenger compartment to relay the news.

OOC: Thanks to Dumedion for interaction between Zark and Doctor Leux

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #5 – January 18, 2025, 07:11:46 AM

[Lt Reika Sh’laan | Enroute to Main Bridge | Deck 1 | Vector 1]
They had just boarded the Theurgy in the middle of the battle. The fact that they had been able to dock at all had been no small miracle. She could count at least four times when the fight around them got so heated that it really didn’t look like they were going to make it.

During their trip from the research station back to the triangle, the OPS officer had been given basic medical care on her arm. It was bandaged up well, and she had been admonished not to use it. But as one of the walking wounded, she was on the better side of the equation than many were, so as they were given clearance, she raced as quickly as she could through the deck to the turbolift - hoping that they were still working because she didn’t think her arm could survive another climb of a Jeffries tube.

At her near-sprint pace, she almost knocked over a petty officer in red. “Sorry!” she called over her shoulder as her almost waist-length white hair flew out behind in her rush. With almost everyone at battle stations, she didn’t have to contend with too many others in the corridors. Rounding the corner, she reached the lift. It didn’t open. “Why is it whenever you are in a rush, they take their bloody time! But when you have all the time in the world, they seem to be waiting for you.” Thirty seconds later, the lift arrived, and the stately Andorian scurried onto it catching nearly annoyed glances from at least one of the two other occupants who seemed frustrated that the lift had stopped to admit ‘yet another’ person. “Bridge,” she announced.

Reika took a moment to check her injured arm during the bumpy ride. The hastily dressed wound was covered with a bandage, and while a hint of blood could be seen several layers down, it hadn’t made its way to the outermost layer just yet. If the Theurgy survived the battle, she would survive the wound.

Once, the turbolift stopped briefly on a deck to let the annoyed crewman off on Vector 3 - deck 24. Reika could only guess that they were heading toward Main Engineering, but after only a brief pause, it was on its way again. She had no idea who all would be on the bridge. Had any of her colleagues made it? Were Leavitt and/or Ravenholm even alive any longer? She mentally begged the fates to spare them, but the prayer was short-lived as the turbolift finally began to slow as it approached its destination.

As the doors opened onto the dimly lit bridge set to red alert, this time the whole of the ship was thrown sideways by a volley. Reika was thrown against the opposite bulkhead. She groaned as she had hit her injured arm. A deep cyan began seeping into the uppermost layer of the bandage now. The shuddered as if it might plummet. The Lieutenant in OPS beat a hasty retreat off of the turbolift. “Lieutenant Sh’laan, OPS,” she announced at the checkpoint, but she never broke her stride. As the bridge doors opened, she noted that neither Leavitt nor Ravenholm were at OPS - it was some determined ensign who she had never met before at OPS 1. Upon seeing the Lieutenant, he noiselessly gave up the station and moved to OPS 2.

“Lieutenant Sh’laan reporting at OPS,” she said as she began her assessment of their current situation, power usage, and their anticipated needs. She had some work to do.

[Ensign Sash Kreshkova | Primary Care unit | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2]

An incessant and deep chant - almost a sort of rhythmic growling. Grum - thrum - growl - purr - whirr - strum - grunt - rumble. All in rhythmic time with the previous and next tones. Over and over a group - was it a pack? - kept in time. Grum - thrum - growl - purr - whirr - strum - grunt - rumble. And again.

The soon-to-be pilot with green hair was still unconscious listening to the somehow familiar chant that played over in her mind, but as the Theurgy was rocked violently during the current altercation, her eyes flew open. As they did, the intonations in her ears died away, and the pain that had so mercifully been numbed when she was unconscious wracked her body so suddenly that she screamed.

She had very little memory - if any - of how she got from the scion lab to here - and she had no idea where here was, but she at least recognized the uniforms of the people bustling around her. Realizing the change in her circumstances, somehow was able to mute her shriek to her loud cry. The pain was almost worse than when the scion had inflicted it - how - she had no idea. Maybe that was part of the torture.

She caught some movement in her periphery, someone in blue was walking toward her with a hypo, and as she opened her mouth to say something, she felt the cold finger of metal pressed against her neck. The last thing she remembered before mercifully drifting back off to obliviousness was the hiss of the medicine penetrating her body.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #6 – February 03, 2025, 07:58:45 AM

As the battle begins... ATTN: All Active Writers

[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen Observation Lounge | V. 1 | Deck 10 | The Helmet ]

There were precious few times when Enyd disliked being a diplomat. Typically, she felt she had more options for action than, say, an engineer or a pilot, when facing difficult circumstances. When squaring up against ships piloted by those who had no interest in standing down, despite best diplomatic efforts, Enyd felt more than a little useless. If they were boarded, or even if they were planetside, she might be able to be useful in a firefight or hand-to-hand (she was passing fair after all in both regards), but when staring into the inevitable mayhem barrel of a space battle, Enyd was superfluous. The best she could do was act as cheerleader for those more capable in the vital systems of the ship that were likely to be the most taxed. She hated feeling so useless and not for the first time wondered if it would wise to invest time in learning more about what Alistair or Frank did, just so she could supplement her time during situations like this.

Glancing over her shoulder at the members of the diplomacy department that had remained on the Helmet, Enyd steeled herself. She was the department head now, for the good or bad of it, and needed to model a proactive stance.

"None of us are being particularly helpful standing here staring at what's about to happen. Go find a place to be useful. I'm heading to sickbay, as there will likely be wounded before this is over."

The crew nodded, sounding off the various departments they would support (engineering, flight deck, sickbay, and security), before breaking up to do that very thing. Enyd paused before leaving the lounge, sending out a silent plea to whomever might be listening in the cosmic wonders, to keep Alistair and Zark safe. They had unfinished business...

As the battle rages...
[ Hirek tr’Aimne | Medical Bay | Upper Deck | USS Allegiant ] @Dumedion

Hirek would be lying if he didn't find sick pleasure in being the one to awaken the Trill. It was a mystery to him and would remain so, at what point in time during their flight from Romulan space back to the Triangle the medical personnel on the Allegiant had managed to patch both of them up enough to a stable and fairly operational level. It would be wise for them both to continue resting, considering the wounds they'd sustained both before they'd made the extra effort to destroy the Citadel during their escape (or at least a good portion of it), and after. However, arriving at the Triangle just in time to witness the commencement of what appeared to be an epic battle, almost to the degree of some of those fought during the Dominion War, left little time for the luxury of rest and recuperation. Besides, from what he now knew about the Trill, she'd be pissed if she slept through this chaos.

Waiting until he caught her bleary-eyed gaze, Hirek snorted when the ship gave a lurch just before he could speak. "Good morning princess. Your chaos skills are needed. We find ourselves in the midst of a battle." He ruthlessly slapped her shoulder with a grin. "You can rest when you're dead. Let's go make ourselves useful. I, for one, didn't survive the Citadel for a second time only to die mere hours later."

[ Ehfva Feynri | Primary Care unit | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2]

Digging her partially clawed hands into the biobed, Ehfva studied the room where they'd placed her. Sash was on the biobed nearby, unconscious as far as Ehfva could tell. The manner in which they'd been brought here was hazy, and in many ways Ehfva still doubted that this was her present reality, and that they were truly saved from the Scions. However, wherever here was, it seemed they'd managed to be rescued from one path towards death only to be deposited onto another.

As alarms blared and on the otherside of the door, she could see crew running to man stations to counteract whatever was happening unseen to the Vulpinian, Ehfva readied herself to stand. Perhaps there was a way she could help, even in her partially transformed state.

"Oh no you don't," a voice sounded from over her shoulder and before Ehfva could protest, she felt the slight sting of a hypospray pressing against her neck. "You won't do anyone any good in your state." Strong hands caught her dead weight, lowering her body to the biobed as the medicine paralyzed her body into a numbed state. "See you on the otherside," was the last thing she heard before she drifted off into darkness...

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #7 – February 04, 2025, 09:41:26 PM

In the few short weeks out of cryo, she’d never really spent much time in the pilot’s rec room; the Den had always felt like Ghost’s stomping grounds – thick with cloying cigar smoke and synth-booze. Rawley had always been there, loitering or hunched over the pool table to greet Talia with a grin, no matter who was around.

The place seemed diminished, now.

The lights were dimmed so those who could rest at least could make an honest effort. Talia wanted so desperately to sleep, but her mind simply couldn’t be bothered to switch off – despite how tired she felt, mentally and physically. She’d never flown more than three sorties in a shift. The demands of combat were still fresh, and everything she’d seen and done had yet to be fully processed and decompressed. It was exhausting just sitting there, nursing a cup of coffee, while she tried to quiet her mind and just deal with it all. Others might have sought out the company of peers or friends, but Talia preferred the silence – it was a comfort, away from the noise of the FAB just beyond the bulkhead, a brief respite from endless readiness checklists, inspections, rearming, and most of all, the people.

She’d already noted the change in their eyes. The loss, the anger, the grief.

Some pushed it aside and carried on as if nothing had happened. Most of them. She had to remind herself that for most of the crew, this was only another combat action in a series of running combat actions ever since the Theurgy fought its way out of Sol. Six months of running combat. That was a sobering thought, one that finally punched reality home; the fact of the matter was, the odds of any of them surviving seemed laughable. A distant hope, even. Would Starfleet even accept them if they pulled it off and somehow managed to neutralize the Infested? With everything they’d done, and the unthinkable, unknowable acts to come, the idea seemed hilariously bleak.

Ghost lived that mentality; she took everything in stride, and kept on laughing. Shadow couldn’t quite understand that…nonchalant attitude. Suddenly, finally, it made sense...and then, Talia laughed; a low chuckle, despite everything, as understanding dawned in her heart and mind. Death could claim any of them at any moment, whether they did everything right or not; what mattered was living while it lasted – not chasing perfection, or worrying about what other people thought, or holding grudges against people she’d likely never see or hear from again.

Living. Just that. No more bullshit.

Shadow sat back with a sigh after setting the cold cup of coffee aside, to stretch out on the couch with a snarl of servos from her exosuit. Dark, bloodshot eyes closed, as her mind slowly blanked and slipped away into nothingness. An instant or eternity later, Talia bolted awake to another scramble order. The ship was already under fire as she strode out onto the flight deck, helm tucked under her arm…

We’re in the thick of it now, Arven grimaced as the ship shook around him; the ICU was packed to capacity, as well as the Ward down the hall. They were treating patients out in the reception area, saving space for those more grievously wounded, as well as sending everyone they couldn’t get to the smaller med-station on Vector 3.

“Hold him,” Leux nodded down at his work, as a slim pair of hands held the burnt and smoking remains of an engineer enlisted rating to the operating bed. The seemingly endless barrage of incoming fire wasn’t helping Arven's mood or operating efficiency, which had never been the Doctor’s strong suit. Fortunately, the poor bastard was unconscious, otherwise Leux was quite sure he’d be screaming in agony. There was enough of that going on around him already.

Violet eyes looked up and glanced at the chaos, before turning to the nurse across the table with weary resignation. For his life, Arven couldn’t remember her name; that didn’t stop him from cracking a tired smile, for her sake. “Just want you to know, you’re doing great,” he offered, quite sincerely, but in the usual dead-pan, cynical tone he always used.

She blinked in confusion, then nodded, as if he’d said something utterly unthinkable.

Arven just shrugged and went back to cutting the charred uniform from burnt flesh. He’d done a lot of that already, and the casualties just kept coming. “How many more are out there,” he jerked his head back and to the side without taking his eyes off his work.

“I…a lot,” the nurse hesitated. “We’re running out of room.”

Arven snorted dryly. “First time, eh? Just means we need to work faster,” he paused to rip a swath of fabric free with a grunt, then folded the rest of the man’s shirt down past his waist while the nurse pulled his trousers free. Once he was finally stripped, Leux closed the regenerative processor panels closed over his torso and left leg and activated the console.

“Short run only, we don’t have time for a full cycle. Soon as he’s done, gurney him to the ward or wherever else we have space and send in the next,” Leux nodded to her as another nurse stuck his head into the room.

“Code blue, ICU,” he shouted and disappeared.

Arven ran after him without saying another word.

[...later, shortly after the arrival of the Apache and Allegiant]
[PO2 Kino Jeen | Medbay | Upper Deck | USS Allegiant] Attn: @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]

She woke with a start, half-blinded by the light and pain that throbbed in time with her heart. It took a few seconds for Kino to realize where she was and remember what had happened, but she sat up anyway while the fog lifted. The Romulan was the last person she expected to see and wasn’t even on the list of people she hoped to see – but there he was, staring at her with that idiotic grin, like they were old buddies – which the Trill met by narrowing her one remaining eye in annoyance as she slid off the bed to stand.

A hand brushed over the scarred tissue where her ocular implant used to be, then continued up to ruffle through the tangled mess of silver hair with a sigh before she looked around for her weapons. They were gone.

“Where the hell’s my –“ she demanded, but was interrupted as the door opened. Kino’s head snapped around to shoot a glare at the door and the figure that leaned into the room, while the solitary medical officer left.

“Jeen,” Chief Nilsson barked as the ship shuddered around them again. “Get your ass to the armory and get geared up, we’re coming in hot. SecOps will brief you when your ready for transport.”

“What about him,” Kino nodded to the Romulan.

“He’s with you. Agans and Falvar too,” Nilsson nodded to them both, then left.

Kino popped the tension from her neck as she grabbed the bloody remains of her duty jacket and headed to the door. “Outstanding,” she grunted to herself sarcastically. “Look, you better keep up or stay out of my way. I’m not rated for babysitting senior citizens. You fall behind, it’s on you. Oh,” she turned to glance at him with a smirk, “and don’t start with the pet names, or I’ll cut your goddamn balls off.”

That said, Kino strode from the medbay out into the hall, bound for the armory.

[Moments later…]

Kino watched with a bemused expression as Falvar and Agans helped Hirek into a loaned exosuit, the chest-piece still blackened with the disruptor fire from the wound that had killed it’s previous owner during the escape from Romulus. That wasn’t what amused her though; it was the look on the Romulan’s face as he tried to keep up with the rapid-fire instructions from her team-mates as they tried to explain it’s basic combat functions and abilities.

This is probably a bad idea, she brooded, but there wasn't much for it. He lived through the Citadel, and even if he claimed to be some kind of lab-rat, Jeen knew better. He wasn't useless, and like all of his kind, he knew more than he let on. Still, she'd watch him all the same, just in case.

Kino checked the power cells on her sidearm, then slid it into the holster at her thigh and drew her blade to check its edge with a twisted flourish. The edge and balance were good, but she ran a few passes over the blade with a whetstone anyway, until the ship lurched and shook again. “Wrap it up guys,” Jeen interrupted them, stowing the blade and hefting her rifle, then opened a channel up to SecOps on the Ranger. “SecOps, Jeen. Reporting in with Team 3, plus one. Requesting sitrep and orders.”

A familiar gentle lilt came back over the comm, but it seemed drained of its emotion, as if a computer had taken over. ["SecOps acknowledges. Be advised: Commander Akoni is KIA by parties unknown, possibly Romulan or Klingon. Lieutenant zh'Wann is in pursuit of target tango 1 heading towards engineering. Profile on target tango 2 is being built with Thea at this time."] There was a pause to catch her breath. ["Head for the AI core while we generate an intercept for you."] Another pause. ["Tangos 1 & 2 are using some sort of stealth tech to conceal their movements. We can only get a partial read within five meters of active tricorders. Thea is working on cracking the stealth, but she's a bit busy at the moment too. Be careful."]

Kino arched a dark brow over the scarred patch of flesh where her eye used to be. “Jeen, solid copy,” she acknowledged, then turned to her team with a nod. “Saddle up boys, we’re moving.” The non-com paused to mag-lock her rifle to her chest-plate then donned her helm before she tapped out a series of commands on the wrist-mounted PADDs, linking her suit to theirs for tactical C&C while she led them to the transporter room.

In her helm, a miniature 3D render of the Helmet sprang into view as the suits auto-senses compensated to her limited field of vision and depth perception. Kino spoke as they walked briskly, briefing them on what she knew. “Got bogies on the Helmet wearing some fancy stealth gear; numbers unknown, objectives unknown. Deputy Ida is in pursuit, covering engineering. We’re headed to the AI core to lock it down while SecOps chews on intel; once we have their position, we close and take them out. All clear?”

“Romulans,” Falvar grunted. “Those pricks ever fight fair?”

Kino snorted and shrugged, then led them into the transporter, with a nod to the control officer. A tap of her finger opened the channel back up to SecOps. "This is Jeen. Team 3 is ready up. Awaiting beam-out to objective," she reported, once they'd all taken a spot on the pad. "Hirek's with me. You two mind the flanks," she jerked a thumb at the Romulan, then pointed to her squadmates in turn. "Eyes up, heads on a swivel. Don't let these fuckers catch us napping."

The transport officer spoke up as the ship took more hits, holding onto his console. "Coordinates received, standby for transport!"

"Let's rock," Kino grinned behind her helm, rifle held low at the ready, as the world grew bright and indistinct and her team disappeared in four columns of light.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #8 – February 23, 2025, 01:12:24 PM

[ Dominic Winters | Flight Deck | Fighter Bay | Deck 16 | USS Theurgy ATTN: All Active Writers

Dominic had been one of the first pilots to land in the bay and have Wolf-10 put off to the side for the basic repairs it needed. Compared to the others who likely had taken far more damage due to the battle that they had endured. Between Warbirds, Cloaked Fighters and Carriers, it had been a hellish time up until they could get to a safe point and land on the rather damaged landing bay of the Hangar. Luckily, Dom had experience in landing in places that did not have tractor emitters or had undergone such damage. It took careful piloting and communication with the ground crew to get into a position they wanted him in. When he disembarked out from his fighter, Dominic took note of the hectic bay, Wolf-10’s landing site was more of a wreck since it was near the ruined Lockers of the deck crew.

Once landed, he spied Lok somewhere amidst the chaos where he looked to be directing people this way and that. Atlas left him to his devices rather than bother the current ground chief as he certainly had a lot to do. Atlas moved off first to relieve some pressure that his body reminded him of existing before heading into the pilot’s lounge. He always functioned better under such stressful times as there was something to focus on. It was after all what he was built for. He inclined his head quietly to Shadow as he passed her in there, every footfall of his quiet, accentuated only by the quiet whirr of his suit’s immense frame. He replicated a snack, a small plate of snacks, and a drink before slinking off to a corner to eat in silence.

Atlas didn’t need sleep, rest yes but sleep? Nah. Even during the Dominion War he never slowed down. Always going, always willing to push it. It was after all why he got called Atlas, the Greek god of strength and endurance. He who was tasked eternally to carry the heavens. He would shoulder the team as best he could when the others needed rest and recovery. Atlas would cover for them.

This felt like an endless war for them and that no matter how far they reached for a miracle to end it, the stars just smacked that hand down once more. Was this what Theurgy had to deal with on the daily? A constant run from one fight to the next like the Thunderball in the Dominion War? He sucked in some air through his nostrils which closed for a moment before he relaxed and exhaled out.

As he finished off his snack and drink, Atlas sat in dead silence as his mind raced on the possibilities of the coming fights. They were the lost and the damned of the Federation, its hero and villain. He wondered if these people would be welcome back into the Federation after all or would they pay the price for it all? He glanced over towards his fellow pilots before getting up, setting his empty plate and cup in the replicator to be processed, and headed out.

It was moments later he had caught Lok pulling a sneak into the locker rooms and had a small talk, at the very least with the overwhelmed Kzint and encouraged him back to it with a bit of better energy behind him.

As Dom got himself situated after with his head resting against his locker, he heard the call for pilots to scramble, affixed his helmet and booked it out to the bay for the next round! Seemingly eager to pound it out with some dirty Romulans!

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #9 – March 16, 2025, 09:12:39 PM

Cmdr. (3rd) Hassar al-Zaheer | Transporter Room 3 | Deck 12 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] Attn:
[Show/Hide]

The group of Vaharrans made quite a contrasting sight to the Starfleet personnel around them. While the aliens were dressed in their simple but sleek uniforms, the colored collars of their shirts denoting their department, the Vaharrans of the Arosan Marines were decked to the nines in their combat gear: body armor, helmets, worn fatigues, a myriad of pouches, belts, and each with a large pistol strapped to their hip. Sure Starfleet had its own forms of combat gear but probably not since the MACOs of the 22nd century did it look anything like what their new guests carried. A bit more on the militarily provocative side of things that many in Starfleet, even the crew of the Theurgy, would be comfortable with, but since the security teams were critically low on personnel due to losses, the big brutish looking Marines were a welcome relief.

“We are just waiting on Specialist al-Kara to bring the E-46 ammunition, Commander”, Lieutenant al-Drakani reported as he and Hassar entered the transporter room with the gratherd group of about a dozen marines, including themselves.

“Very well”, Hassar responded, “I just gave Lieutenant al-Feena his orders so I’d say we are good to telepo- er…transport over to the other part of the ship.”

Hassar was not thrilled to leave Al-Feena in charge, he was rather green and had only ever worked planetside; a capable warrior and good at following orders, he seemed to lack the decisiveness required for a leader, but there was always a chance to rise to the occasion. Plus he had his best NCO with him, Chief Specialist al-Zanak, he would keep things on track if Al-Feena couldn’t handle it.

Hassar, meanwhile, would be taking a contingent of his marines to what the Theurgy crew called “Vector 1” or “The Helmet”; Theurgy, as he learned, could separate into three ships. Truly advanced but made little sense to him, it was best, in his mind and the minds of Vaharran tactical thinkers, that a ship should have its firepower centralized on a strong hull. Granted this was thought of centuries ago long before things like shields or energy weapons were a thing for his people. Either way he had a job to do, support the Starfleet security personnel there and specifically free some from guard duty over the ship’s main computer core which housed some sort of highly advanced AI system. Reports were that an infiltrator had tried to sabotage it earlier but was defeated, however, there were concerns that the Romulans knew of their AI system and would try to board the ship and destroy it in the midst of the large battle that they were gearing up for. Hence Hassar’s Marines. The Vaharrans made sure to pack for it, a heavy gun, some corridor barriers, and thousands of rounds of extra ammunition.

Finally, Specialist al-Kara arrived lugging two large cases of E-46 ammo, where he was then directed to set them with the rest of the equipment on the transporter pad. Satisfied, Hassar turned to the group, who warily looked at the glowing alcove. Sensing their apprehension, he even had some himself, he smiled and stopped up onto the elevated platform and said, “Don’t worry it will be quick and easy.”

“Are you sure it’s not going to hurt”, one of the Marines asked accompanied by nods of agreement from the rest of the gathered group.

“It’ll be fine, you don’t feel anything, it’s just a bunch of blue static and some sound and then you are in the other place…trust me I’ve done this dozens of times”, Hassar responded.

“I always found it helped to just close my eyes and take a deep breath”, the Starfleet transporter chief chimed in with a shrug as she patiently waited for the uneasy Marines to get up the courage to go.

“Fine I’ll go first”, came the deep booming voice of Specialist al-Ahnad. He was quite tall and muscular, even for a Vaharran, and was known for his crude humor as well as being a tough soldier. He stepped up next to Hassar and added while making a lewd gesture towards his crotch, “So long as all this is put back where it belongs, we’ll be good.”

The Marines laughed as the tension was eased, the transporter chief just smirked and rolled her eyes as she started to prep the pad for beaming. Three other Marines joined Hassar on the pad, a couple of them closed their eyes in anticipation.

[Transporter Room 2, this is Transporter Room Three, beaming the first group of Marines over now], the chief reported over the comms then with a few taps of her console she slowly wiped her fingers up the controls to energize the beam. Hassar’s vision was filled with sparkling blue static for a moment only for it to just as quickly dissipate and reveal a similar room but without his Marines and a different Starfleet alien at the controls. Behind him he could hear the sighs of relief from the Marines that had joined him, Al-Ahnad chuckled to himself but was very quick to practically hop off the transporter pad, lest it somehow beam him again.

Once everyone was beamed over, the Marines and their equipment made their way to the corridor that led to the AI computer core and started to set up their equipment. The main showpiece, as it were of the Vaharran defense, was their twenty millimeter machine gun, setup on a standing tripod behind a portable barrier. The weapon, a KP-100, had a long history and had gone through many variations, but had become the mainstay of heavy machine guns for the Tyrosian and later Arosan militaries. It primarily fired massive slugs designed to do the maximum amount of damage possible to vehicles and equipment but also possessed the ability to fire contact detonated explosive ammunition as well as incendiaries. This powerhouse of destruction, manned by the redoubtable Al-Ahnad, was now aimed down the corridor at the T-junction at the far end. On either side of the KP-100 were portable barriers to protect the Marines armed with the standard E-46s but a couple had the automatic L-9 shotguns. Seven Marines in total, including Hassar would guard the core, the remainder of the dozen would be split up and attached to Starfleet security teams to bolster their numbers.

Plenty of firepower to deal with whatever decided to board the ship.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #10 – May 19, 2025, 04:22:54 AM

@Brutus @Nolan @ob2lander961 @Hans Applegate @Dumedion @rae @Havenborn @chXinya @Eirual @tongieboi @Griff @Stegro88 @Tae @Sqweloookle @Galaxymind @joshs1000 @RyeTanker @Krajin @Number6 @Pierce @Nesota Kynnovan @SomeBunny @Dree @P.C. Haring @Eden @TWilkins @JacenSoloDjo @Relatively Insane @AbsintheDeux

[ Senior Chief Petty Officer Verguy Cam | Bridge | The Helmet]

The bridge thrummed with tension—red alerts flashing, consoles humming under strain, and the distant echo of impending battle. Cam stood rigid, boots pressed firmly against the deck, every vibration sending a shudder through his body. Around him, Thea’s calm voice cut crisply through the chaos, delivering orders with unwavering precision. Yet beneath that calm, a storm of fear brewed in Cam's chest.

His eyes flicked to the viewscreen, where Romulan and Klingon vessels loomed dark and imposing. The new alliance between these factions and Theurgy had always been fragile, and Cam couldn’t help but wonder if it would survive the coming conflict.

Suddenly, a jarring impact shook the ship, throwing Cam forward against a console. Gripping it tightly to steady himself, he braced for whatever came next. His mind raced—not with tactical plans or heroics, but with a simple, desperate hope: to survive. To live through the chaos and return to the mess hall, where an unfinished ice cream sundae waited patiently. It had been a small comfort, a moment of sweetness before the storm—a reason to hold on.

[Lt Cmdr Cross]

Lieutenant Commander Cross gripped the armrests of his command chair aboard the battle bridge of the Ranger, his jaw set in a grim line as the ship shuddered under yet another volley from Tal'Aura's forces. The bridge was a chaotic mess—consoles flickering, smoke curling from overloaded systems, and the faint, acrid smell of burnt circuitry filling the air.

"Structural integrity holding! Shields flickering!" shouted the tactical officer, his voice barely audible over the blaring alerts.

"Continue to fire—target their disruptor arrays!" Cross ordered, his tone clipped and efficient despite the turmoil. He trusted his crew to do their jobs, but every hit they took made it harder to keep the Ranger in the fight.

The comms crackled, and a junior officer stumbled forward, blood trickling down his forehead. "Sir, reports are coming in—Donatra’s ships... they're turning on the Klingon allies. They’re turning on US. They're attacking indiscriminately."

For a moment, Cross couldn’t process it. He barked for more data, his mind racing through possibilities. Betrayal? A command override? Sabotage? None of it made sense, but there was no time to speculate.

A nearby console exploded, sending another officer to the deck. Cross called for medical teams, his voice rising just enough to cut through the chaos.
The tactical display showed red indicators multiplying—casualties mounting on both Klingon and Theurgy sides as Donatra’s forces tore into allies and enemies alike. Cross cursed under his breath. They’d come prepared to face Tal’Aura’s fanatics, not a fragmented alliance tearing itself apart mid-battle.

The Ranger rocked again, inertial dampeners straining. Cross wiped sweat from his brow, forcing himself to focus. They were surrounded, cut off from the main battle group, and their communications were spotty at best. His mind churned through strategies, looking for a way to regroup.

"Engineering, I need damage control teams on decks five through eight. Helm, evasive pattern theta-five. Keep us moving, and do not let those disruptors get a clean shot. I want all our fighters out of the bay NOW. If we’ve got shuttles, throw them out there too. We need more support.”

Amid the chaos, Cross couldn’t help but feel the bitter sting of helplessness. They were outgunned, outmaneuvered, and the very alliance they had relied on was crumbling. But he couldn’t let it show. The crew needed his steadiness, his resolve. Taking a deep breath, Cross braced for the next impact, determined to keep the Ranger fighting as long as he drew breath.

[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen]

Lieutenant Enyd Isolde Madsen stood within the diplomatic department aboard the the Helmet, eyes locked onto the chaotic display on the viewscreen. Her pulse pounded in her ears as Donatra’s ships, once thought allies, turned their weapons on both Klingon and Theurgy vessels indiscriminately. Outside the viewport, bursts of disruptor fire crisscrossed the void, and the Helmet occasionally lurched under the impact of enemy fire. Alarms wailed in the corridors, and the constant rumble of the ship’s shields absorbing damage made it impossible to think clearly.

Enyd and her team had worked tirelessly to bridge centuries of distrust between the Klingons and Romulans, fighting against the prejudice and deeply ingrained hostility on both sides on a damnable time crunch. Now, in the midst of their painstaking efforts, it seemed that some saboteurs had decided to upend all progress in one reckless act. Anger burned beneath her diplomatic calm, and she gritted her teeth, steadying herself as another hit rocked the ship. She’d been looking forward to that fancy dress dinner party too.

A Romulan warbird passed close to the viewport, its hull scorched and trailing debris, pursued by two Klingon Birds-of-Prey. One of the Klingon ships fired, striking the warbird’s aft engine and causing it to spiral out of formation. As it exploded in a violent flash, Enyd’s stomach tightened, not just from the loss of life but from the bitter realization that the fragile alliance was dissolving in real time before her eyes. What in the hell had gotten into Donatra to turn like this? Was it the fact that they’d shared the thalaron radiation intel with Martok’s forces? Did she so loathe no longer having an edge?

It wasn’t just the senseless violence that rattled Enyd, but the sheer stupidity of it all. Alliances as fragile as these didn’t survive betrayals like this. Whoever had orchestrated this chaos had done a fantastic job of ripping apart the tenuous threads holding this alliance together. They didn’t need the Infested to cause this sort of grief, as easy as it was to lay the blame at their slithering hides, it was just as likely that this had been done without their influence. If they survived the battle, Enyd knew the diplomatic fallout would be staggering, and that thought almost frustrated her more than the battle itself.

In the midst of her frustration, Enyd couldn’t help but think of Alistair. The thought of seeing him again after this nightmare gave her a small, stubborn sense of hope. She didn’t want to admit how much she missed him, or how desperately she wanted to feel his arms around her. Giving in to those feelings in the middle of battle was distracting. Yet, she was equally worried over Zark’s fate, her best friend sent to stop a star from exploding.

But for now, Enyd could do nothing but watch the stars outside the viewport flicker with the glow of disruptor fire, remaining ready for any order that came her way.

[Colonel Xiomek]

Colonel Xiomek’s Reman fleet (if a half dozen ships could be called such) slipped through the darkness of space, closing in on the battle coordinates with cold determination. His sources, deep within Tal’Aura’s ships, had confirmed what he had long hoped: the Praetor was dead. The knowledge brought a rare, bitter satisfaction—Tal’Aura’s tyranny finally ended. However, Xiomek’s hatred extended just as fiercely to the so-called Empress Donatra, whose manipulations threatened to prolong the suffering of their people.

The presence of the USS Theurgy remained a source of cautious calculation. Xiomek distrusted the Federation ship—outsiders who meddled in Romulan affairs with naive ideals. Yet, in the grand game unfolding, he recognized a potential ally in their recklessness. An outsider with nothing to lose and everything to gain was more likely to aid the Reman cause once the Romulan-centric government was toppled and replaced with what he hoped to be a joint initiative between people;s in rebuilding Romulus. But he wasn’t a politician, just the blunt force politicians use.

As his forces prepared to strike, still as of yet undetected by all currently within the fray, Xiomek’s resolve hardened. This battle was not merely about survival—it was the opening move in a larger war for the future of Romulus. The Praetor was gone, Donatra’s grip was tenuous, and the USS Theurgy’s role was uncertain. But Colonel Xiomek knew one thing with absolute clarity: the Reman would not be forgotten. They would rise from the shadows and claim what was theirs: to stand as equals in the light.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #11 – July 23, 2025, 12:29:10 AM

[Ens. Joseph Adams | Corridor 12B | Deck 12 | Vector 02 USS Theurgy |

Ah, how well he knew this floor. It was the site of his usual transporter room, where his non-combat duties lay. Now however, the normally bright corridor was dimmed as lights were brought down to their minimum, making the pulsing red alarms stand out all the more.

Nothing was on fire, thank goodness, but a few minor conduits had shorted out. Their smoking remains requiring later replacement. That was partially the reason why he was here.

He’d been sent up here to skirt along the EPS conduits leading to Theurgy’s propulsion, weapons and shields, the three things that she needed most right now, and make sure that the valuable flow of power was uninterrupted. He was one of many assigned to this task. Theurgy was a large ship and battles were fickle, ever-changing things. A conduit that was fine a few seconds ago may suddenly be damaged from the bleedthrough of another starship’s weapons fire.

He focused on these critical ones. That was why he was here. To keep the ship limping on despite whatever wounds she might take from the Romulan vultures that circled and nipped at her. Trivial things like replicators, doors and lights could wait. Grasping a small case with a torch and the tools he needed, he pressed onward, taking a leaf from an old Vulcan friend’s book to keep the tension that burned in his chest from overtaking him.

Theoretical, Theurgy was in combat up to the proverbial knees. The Romulan ships were typically smaller than her, but would attack in packs, much like wolves or the raptors which they so liked to liken themselves to. Pack animals. Conclusively, they would bleed the ship rather than attempt to overcome Theurgy through sheer brute force.

Practical. Maintain Theurgy’s vital combat systems until attrition wears down the opposition.

Of course, he didn’t know the strength of the enemy fleet, what ships they even had, much less their number. That was something he didn’t want to think about. In his mind, it was only a handful of Warbirds focused on Theurgy. That made it easier than worrying about a ship that could match them pound for pound.

There weren’t even any windows or means to see how the battle was progressing. The battle almost seemed far from here, he mused to himself as he set down his case, knelt beside panel 12-12B-F and pried it open. Wafting the ozone tasting smoke from within as he squinted through it. Spying the large red tube that ran through the corridor wall.

Maintaining EPS conduits was a nasty business whilst there was still electro-plasma running through them. Thankfully he had no intention of opening one or fiddling with it. Just making sure one of them wasn’t leaking and the supply to more critical systems was uninterrupted.

Most of the conduits in this section had blown, and as the lights flickered, starved of power, Joe sighed to himself. The tricorder he was using had trouble differentiating which EPS conduits had failed. He supposed it was all the smoke, energy signatures and confusion of battle that did it. Though the fact he was certain he’d seen the last officer to hold the tricorder drop it when Theurgy shuddered particularly violently could’ve also been a factor.

Still, this section and its conduits weren’t overly important. The big one leading through it was what truly mattered. He found himself repeating this and reminding himself often. Another thing to help him stay grounded.

Focus on what you can control.

Satisfied, he closed the panel and moved on, feeling Theurgy rock with another impact. Compared to the first time the mighty starship had shook from when they’d initially decelerated from warp, he barely stumbled. This time, the lights went out for a handful of seconds. Then spluttered back on as he proceeded to panel 12-12B-G. His tricorder tracking the crucial EPS conduit. The distance was only a few metres, so opening the panel, checking the conduit and closing it again had become an easy, fast but repetitive task. He’d be bored if he wasn’t so concerned about the impending threat of being blown up.

So far, so good. The weapons hungrily drank the energy these conduits supplied, and Joe kept the Electro Plasma flowing. Simple. Keep the ship fed and in turn, they’d be safe.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #12 – July 23, 2025, 03:46:04 AM

[Ens. Irnashall “Shall ch’Xinya | Stellar Cartography | Deck 15 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy]

Shortly after the commencement of the battle

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Shall pushed a loose lock of hair out of his eyes after having to brace himself against the railing as the ship rocked from another hit. All around him was chaos, represented holographically in the air was a realtime presentation of the battle, Klingon and Romulan starships maneuvering around each other with the Helmet standing out with her silver hull among the green and browns. Making it worse was the sudden betrayal of one element of the Romulan forces, apparently they had decided to stop playing along and had opened fire on everyone without regard of anything apparently.

“I hate civil wars…” the Andorian mutters to no one as he used his hands to shift the field around himself, turning an invisible ball to rotate it around and then pulled them apart to magnify a trio of Romuan Birds of Prey turning towards the Helmet while assuming an attack formation. Quickly hitting the direct comm line, “Cartography to Main Bridge, you have a trio coming around 086 mark 320.” Another hit to the Ranger made the chan stumble again but it was a minor one, just a wobble. Turning quickly to look for more immediate threats he saw the older D’deridex to the port, fire billowing out of a large number of hull breaches. It’s nacelles were still glowing so she had some level of power but she wasn’t firing at anything. The opposing Valdore-type didn’t seem to care if it was crippled though, and as it passed its older sibling it dumped a full spread of torpedos straight down the upper spine. The antimatter explosions were potent enough to throw visible shockwaves through several of the sensor bands Shall was monitoring at the same time (each overlayed over the others with various ranges of false-color), making him wince in sympathy for the doomed crew.

Moments later the gravimetric sensors registered the spike deep inside the warbird’s hull and Shall’s blood ran cold, recognizing how close the impending disaster was to them. “Cartography to Battle Bridge, evade starboard now!” he warned, highlighting the D’deridex on the tactical feed up there. A moment later the scene whirled around him as the Ranger rolled starboard to use her entire ventral thruster array to push away, but there was no way to get far enough in time. Spacetime around the warbird collapsed into itself as the artificial black hole that used to power the powerful warship ripped free of its containment, consuming everything around it for several seconds before its own Hawking radiation surge and jet streams ripped the singularity apart with enough force to shred what little remained of the warbird. The shockwave smashed into the Ranger a moment later hard enough to throw Shall to the deck.

His shoulder slammed right into one of the railing supports hard enough to crack something in it, the Andorian hissing in pain and he saw white out of the corner of his eye. Picking himself up off of the floor he rolled it a few times to make sure nothing was actually broken (thankfully there wasn’t), but his nose rankled at the acrid smell of something that shouldn’t be in the air. That’s when he noticed half the screen and holographic field were gone and a conduit was billowing some sort of white gas. A toxicity alarm sounded forcing him to race to the exit, but of course that required going right through the cloud. Steeling himself and holding his breath (ignoring the burning from the toxins already reaching him), Shall raced through, eyes stinging as he passed through the worst of it. The double doors sealed themselves behind him automatically and he could feel the buzz of a forcefield in his antenna as it snaps into existence.

Only then he finally exhaled, doubling over to cough up both his lungs as he struggled to bring in the clean air from the corridor, completely oblivious to the people approaching who were most definitely not in Starfleet uniform….

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #13 – July 23, 2025, 08:03:36 AM

[

Ens. Via "DixeBee" Wix | Squadron Locker Room | Deck 16 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]

It had been a few hours since Via had transferred back to the Theurgy after the strike on the Hobus Station. She sat in the Wolf locker room without company, allowing herself to internalize all she had just gone through as people busily walked in and out, occasionally giving her a passing greeting but not paying too much attention to her. Everyone was on edge and in a rush, preparing for the conflict ahead. She was still in her exosuit, having not taken it off since the mission. Anyone looking at the advanced piece of technology she was wearing would see the fruits of her labor quite unceremoniously displayed across the alloy plates, joints, and gauntlets in the form of scratches, dents, and scorching.

When she and her RIO landed, they were practically carried out by the deck crew due to the injuries they suffered. Their fighter was severely damaged, having been pushed to the limit, and it showed just like on Via's exosuit. Mission after mission after mission. The stress, the adrenaline...the deaths, it was all a massive weight on her mind, body, and soul. The young pilot managed to get off with only a few dermal regenerators regimens and hypo spray injections to keep her going. Her RIO, the skittish, timid Bajoran who replaced Charles, had to be taken to the already overwhelmed sickbay for more extensive injuries. The priority was to keep as many pilots up and operational as they could, especially after the many casualties they suffered in the last operation. Sickbay was currently dealing with the survivors of the Hobus Station along with the boarding teams. Any pilot who could be patched up without surgery was pushed back to duty. Besides, already understrength Wolf Squadron was continually being whittled down to the bone, and they couldn't afford to lose anymore. Not when the battle was far from over.

From her life on her home planet, to the Training Center, to now, death seemed to surround Via. She had always convinced herself she was used to it, that it was normal, and anyone who thought otherwise clearly was soft. Now, however, she questioned if this was truly what her life would always amount to. Her sister fought tooth and nail to get her out of a life of crime and violence that had plagued her family for as long, only to now be fighting every day for their survival with little to no hope in sight.

It was all supposed to be so easy. A new start. A new life. Serve a few years and live free for ourselves...what happened, Fia? Where are you? I need you to tell me what to do...I'm scared... Water pooled around her eyes, followed by a sniffle as she sat her head hung low on the locker bench. Time and time again, the universe has been telling her how fragile her existence by keeping her alive but taking away those she cared about.

She felt as if her luck was running out.

Cont: Turning Into the Wind

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #14 – July 23, 2025, 05:55:23 PM

Lt. JG Callax Valin | Personal Quarters | Deck 16 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy]
[Show/Hide]

Cal was tired.

He could feel it in his bones as the water from the refresher washed away the sweat from the day’s events. He could have freshened up in the Wolf’s Den but he wanted to be alone. He wanted time to think and rest where he needn’t have to be his usual upbeat and cocky self. However, despite his exhaustion, rest did not come.

Cal laid in his berth and stared up at the ceiling. His muscles rejoiced but his mind was still a whirlwind of activity. It always was after a sortie.

He had not too long ago returned from the attack on the Hobus Station. It was not a mission too unlike others he had participated in, but it was safe to say it was his first major sortie with the Theurgy. His first in true command of others. How had he done? What did the others think? How were they faring?

We survived.

Despite doubts about his performance, that thought brought the Ardanan fighter pilot some comfort. His flight had survived. The paint on his Valk was a bit scuffed, but it was in one piece. As was he even if he did not feel it in his bones.

Until this moment, Cal had not felt the true weight of command. It was easy to be a hotshot pilot with an attitude. It was difficult to be a leader. He would have to become the latter more than the former. For the sake of his wingmen – and himself.

No rest came for the Ardanan, but after a time he did manage to calm his mind in preparation for what was to come.

As for Hobus Station… it would all be in the after action report.

Continued in Turning Into the Wind.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #15 – July 23, 2025, 06:30:17 PM

[ Lt. JG Donna ‘Chance’ Petterson | Squadron Locker Room | Fighter Assault Bay | Vector 02| USS Theurgy ]
[Show/Hide]

Donna stared into the mirror, wondering if she was really ready or what was coming. She had only just been cleared to fly again and only been up with Razor just over 36 hours ago. Then everything had hit the proverbial fan and here she was, prepping for a fight like she had hundreds of times before, and yet she felt like this was the first time. She certainly had the memories of doing it before, but she also remembered watching herself get ready for a fight like she was just a passenger to the process.

“You can call this off. There is still time. Just tell them you aren’t ready. That you need more time,” Donna thought to herself. She knew though, even as she had the thoughts, that she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do that to her squadmates. Her Pack. Flying had been one of the best things about her new life the last time around. She would make sure that it was one of them this time round.

She reached up and adjusted the strap of her bra. That was one of the changes from after the merge. She could distinctly remember that she preferred to fly nude, or at least topless in her flight exosuit. Yet, Maxine hadn’t dared to think it. Now, she was somewhere in the middle, wearing a sports bra and boyshorts. Flying time would tell her if that was a good idea or not.
It was fight time now.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #16 – July 23, 2025, 09:31:24 PM

[ PO2 Kythalie Benmual | Deck 8 | Junior Officers Quarters | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]

The sound of rumbling and the force of the impacts slowly stirred Kythalie awake. She hadn't been on shift as she had been given some downtime before the battle would commence. A token from her superior officer to keep up the good work she'd been performing so far. The time before she ended up here was a bit fuzzy, partially to blame because of the rude awakening that was currently going on. It didn't take long for Kythalie to register the atmospheric lighting to blink in red.
Red...

Like...

Red alert...

RED ALERT!!

The Betazoid security officer sprung into action as she sat upright, letting the sheets that covered her expose her torso and back as she blinked a few times to get her bearings. She glanced over to the body beside her, the warm presence that had kept her company and then some whilst she had some downtime. She smiled faintly as she remembered what the to of them had been cooking up to. That didn't mean just last night, but also in the days and weeks prior to this moment.

She let her left hand linger over Sarresh's chest before she turned to dangle her long caramel legs out of the bed and got up. She scrambled to start putting on her underwear and uniform that had been neatly placed on the nightstand next to the bed. There was no time to tidy or freshen up, not when the red alert was going off. Sheh ad no doubt that Sarresh would wake up with the ship being under attack. She quickly went over to the bed again to kiss him on the lips and whispered into his ear "Better get up lieutenant."

After that she continued to apply finished touches, which meant putting her hair in a braid and making sure she hadn't forgotten anything before she went to the door. She couldn't help but to help Sarresh awaked for sure though, she'd never forgive herself if anything were to happen if he didn't wake up yet now "Computer, set lights to full brightness, override mute and alerts to standard protocol. Security officer Kythalie Benmual." she stated and with a chime the order to override was registered before Sarresh received the full glory of a red alert at brightness. A tactic often utilised at boot camp during Kythalie's training. She waited before looking Sarresh in the eye and going him a wink before she opened the door to get to her station.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #17 – July 23, 2025, 10:15:35 PM

[ PO2 Knox | Space at the Triangle | Stolen Romulan Experimental Fighter ]

The shiny june bug green ship exited warp at the rendezvous coordinates a few minutes late after a short stop to figure out where to go and how to get there. The information Knox had was complete. The interface of this shiny new, and stolen, Romulan vessel was all in Romulan. And Knox was not an expert in reading or inputting ship commands using Romulan, but he made it. A few minutes late, but he made it… and so had everyone else apparently!

A phaser beam flashed like lightning across his port bow. It came from an angry red triangle on his display clearly indicating an enemy ship. Maneuvering hard to gain an angle on the offending fighter Knox thought it looked a lot like a Federation ship.

“Oh yeah! I am in a Romulan ship! The IFF tags have the Federation showing up on targeting like the enemy!” Knox said to himself as realization dawned on him.

That is why he was being shot at by the Federation fighters and left alone by the Romulan fighters. And with a little test he quickly found out that is why his missiles would not lock onto the Romulan fighter closest to him.

In the middle of a massive space battle with several ships and lots of fighters and torpedoes, phasers, disruptor beams, and missiles criscrossing the void in all around him, Knox realized he would have to reprogram his stolen fighter’s IFF system in a language he wasn’t that comfortable with. To be fair there were few languages he was as comfortable with as Talnary Mantis from his decades living as an insect on their homeworld but Federation standard would have been nice, but no, these Romulan’s just had to stick with Romulan and program their stupid ship in Romulan. Another phaser beam flashed just overhead mid-course change as Knox continued his evasive maneuvers in earnest.

Rolling back and forth and changing direction, Knox flew erratically while trying to figure out how to disable the ship’s IFF so he could actually shoot at Romulans. Out of the corner of his eye, Knox saw a Romulan fighter get blown up and decided he better retreat away from his friends towards his enemies, who thought he was friendly, until he could get things squared away with his controls.

Laying on all the power he could, Knox flew towards the largest Romulan vessel he could find at the battle. Friends close and enemies closer was on his mind as he did this, all the while maintaining an erratic flight path. The thought did cross his mind to try to radio the Federation ships what was happening to him. However, Knox knew better than to trust the comms on an enemy vessel and realized that the Romulans would start to shoot at him if he did so, and he still had no way to shoot back. Better to try and fly casually and blend in just a few moments longer until he could actually join the fight with weapons that were working properly.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #18 – July 23, 2025, 10:17:58 PM

[PO3 Lillee t’Jellaieu | Battle Bridge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: all.

[Show/Hide]

In the long hours after being rescued from the Citadel, Lillee barely said anything. From the outside, after a quick shower and putting on her uniform. she seemed fine. Determined, Angry. Ennergised. Certainly, her flying was as good as ever, from leaving Romulus to arriving in the middle of a ferocious battle. With both the Klingons and Romulans making liberal use of their cloaking devices, it was chaos to the untrained, ships decloaking here and there, cloaking again, disruptors and torpecoes everywhere. However, dissociated as she was, Lillee numbly recalled her training. In reality, the commanders of each fleet were playing 4D chess, move and countermove, bluffs and calls, hundreds of Klingons and Romulans dying again and again.

Lillee didn't care. It wasn't her job. Instead, following orders, she flew the Allegiant to the Theurgy, the great white dreadnought looking very much out of place. Still, everyone seemed to be giving the Theurgy a wide berth, even their supposed Klingon allies. The Theurgy's reputation (and considerable firepower) was common knowledge now.

That made for a relatively easy time reaching the Theurgy and docking the Allegiant back inside her mothership. Lillee didn't bother listening to what everyone else was saying. She didn't care. She only stayed long enough to confirm that nobody was paying her attention, then simply walked out through the airlock. Moving purely on automatic, she stopped by her quarters to retrieve her honour-blade.

It only took a couple of minutes to reach her battle station, the battle bridge of Vector 03. A few others were present, mostly strangers, all heavily armed, their rifles atop their consoles or at their feet. Their job was both critical and pointless. If the Theurgy went into MVAM, they would fly the Stallion, and would protect the battle bridge in case any boarding parties were clever.

Of course, if neither of those events occurred, they were merely the audience, impotent. That suited Lillee fine as she sat down at the helm, She was tired. Exhausted.

Broken.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #19 – July 24, 2025, 02:41:35 AM

[PO3 Valerii Anhel Arkhipiv | Deck 2 | Jeffries Tube | Helmet | USS Theurgy] Attn: All

Valerii had been trying to get through a hangover and a 'repair' of a gas line that was part of the Life Support system, the line in question was clearly labeled O2 and the temporally displaced mechanic had been checking the flow rate of the line in the most effective way to any hung over mechanic. He'd been controlling the flow to breathe on the gas that served best to cure hangovers. The headache was starting to fade just as the klaxons began blaring, and the lighting in the tube shifted to red. All of a sudden the headache was back full force, and it was liable to turn into a migraine that would be lodged deep between his eyes as if he'd been stabbed with an icepick.

Still groggy Valerii tightened the oxygen line back down with a few swift turns of his wrench and began cursing softly under his breath. "Chortovi syreny, ya perezhyv i hirshe, i ya vyzhyvu. Prynaymni, tsʹoho razu nimtsi ne kydayutʹ snaryady v miy litak." (1)

As soon as the words had slipped free he looked around again, realizing just where he was, and when he was. So as he climbed out of the tube, he spoke again, as he began running towards his station as part of the emergency repair crews.

"Maybe I haven't, These aren't the Germans." The very thought gave Valerii an icy chill, but somehow, this was better. Deep within the hull of a starship with technology that still gave him a sense of wonder and security. But after all, the Federation still fought wars, and no base was unassailable, he'd learned that many years before, and he had the scars to show for it. Now thought, it was best for the man to focus on his job here aboard the Theurgy, even if the sirens did mane him want to fun for the nearest cockpit.

1) Fucking sirens, I've been through worse and I'll survive. At least the Germans aren't lobbing shells at my plane this time.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #20 – July 28, 2025, 06:07:26 AM

[ Lt. Azrin Ryn | Main Engineering | Deck 25 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn:
[Show/Hide]

Azrin jerked awake, dragged back to consciousness by the soft but incessant beeping of a tricorder. She rubbed at her face, which felt like something had been pressing into it, blinking bleary eyes to bring the world back into focus. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t quite…

Oh. She was vertical. Why was she sitting up? Sleeping was a horizontal activit—there went the tricorder again, in all its distracting beeping glory. Her tricorder. It took way too long for her to find it, sitting on her knees, as it continued to audibly inform that the diode calibration it was tracking was way out of alignment. The diode. The diode she had been calibrating. The diode she had been calibrating in the—

Azrin groaned, finally focusing on the panel in front of her. The slipstream drive. Her beautiful, miraculous drive, damaged again after they’d used it to get out of Romulan space. She’d been kneeling on the ground beside it, working on repairs… and fallen asleep. Fingers trailed up to her cheek again, searching this time, and found a good size dent in the skin. That would be from the diode, pushed even further out of alignment by her face.

She really was losing her mind.

The whole room shuddered, an impact on another part of the ship reverberating through to her location. Someone behind her called out a list of minor damages, but beyond that the controlled background noise of main engineering continued at the same tempo. Oh yeah, they were in the middle of a battle, weren’t they? For some reason, that fact didn’t bother Azrin as much as it should. Her job was the same no matter what. Keep the ship working. Fix whatever broke.

If she’d been feeling more like herself, Azrin probably could have given a reasonably accurate guess as to where they’d been hit, her nocturnal obsession with tracking the warp cores’ vibrations through the hull had given her an excellent sense of how sound traveled through the ship. But Azrin was not feeling like herself right now, though she had no idea why, and no one else seemed to notice.

She’d been sleep deprived for weeks and drinking copious amounts of coffee for years, but Azrin had never had a reaction like this. One minute she was awake, filled with so much energy that she couldn’t stay still, couldn’t focus, erratic. The next she crashed hard, so much so that she – well – fell asleep with her head sticking inside a panel. Her fingers trembled, messing up precision repairs. The room spun at random intervals. She flipped between hyperfocused and a drifting fog. Azrin, who valued her work beyond most anything else, would have seeked help long ago had her issues affected her job, as they were doing today.

And she planned to do so, just as soon as the battle was over. She’d said that about the last battle too, but that had been a few hours ago and now there was another one. Theurgy was having that sort of day. This was an all-hands situation. No one could take a break unless they were actively dying.

There was an explanation. Dezra Ryn, the doctor who had held the symbiont before her, knew the answer. It was right on the tip of her tongue, born of an experience of a different lifetime. But she couldn’t seem to drag it out, weirdly distant from the wealth of memories she normally had easy access to. Like that part of her brain was behind a fog, drifting away.

If Azrin had been more aware, that final fact would have worried her more than anything. Instead, she kept working.

OOC: To be continued in the Ranger thread.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #21 – July 29, 2025, 07:51:34 PM

[ PO2 Knox | Space at the Triangle | Stolen Romulan Experimental Fighter ] Attn: Whoever answers Knox's call to the USS Theurgy.

The frustrating work finally paid off as Know eventually had full weapons control and was able to change or reverse the IFF unexpectedly. Now his disruptors would auto-lock onto Romulan ships. This was nifty, he decided. Then, to his complete joy, Knox discovered that the auto lock worked on cloaked ships from the Romulan faction since their locations were fed into his Romulan fighter as a tactical safety measure. This undoubtedly was meant to prevent collisions and to allow fighters to find their parent vessel for docking purposes. But now, Knox could exploit this to find the cloaked ships and temporarily unmask them with a few rapid disruptor bursts.

With a little more effort, Knox finally got the communications system in his stolen fighter working enough to open a channel. Looking at the display screen he quickly decided that he might as well pic the ship he was supposed to be assigned to by Admiral Anderson, the USS Theurgy. He keyed the comm button…

“Yo what’s up!...wait… I did that wrong. Um..USS Theurgy, this is CPO 2 Knox in a stolen Romulan fighter. I see the cloaked Romulan ships on my sensors here. Want me to point them out to you? Also, please don’t shoot me! Some of your pilots are pretty good and have nearly taken me out before I got this comm system working…Also, is there anything else you need me to do?... Oh yeah! And those Klingons that just arrived, whose side are they on?....” Knox waited a moment, then remembered to let them know he was done with his transmission. “Over.”

Knox, now giddy with excitement at having a fully operational toy, eagerly awaited instructions from the USS Theurgy.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #22 – July 29, 2025, 10:52:36 PM

[ Lt. Commander Alana Pierce | Allegiant to Constitution Class Vessel ] | ATTN: All [Show/Hide]

Alana prepped herself for transport now that the Allegiant was back to the Theurgy, or at least the system it was in. That was when she saw the Apache with a Constitution II Class Refit in tow on the viewscreen. Her mind and body got excited with the prospect of having the opportunity to pilot one again. That was when an idea struck her. Maybe she could...

For a moment, the stars blurred, not because of the explosions and of space, but from a rush of memories. The last time she sat at the helm of a Constitution-class vessel, she'd barely made it out alive... And after that, she ended up in the future... One where literally everything changed for her life. Was this redemption? A second chance? Or better yet, an opportunity.

Quickly, she tapped the controls to scan it before seeing it was still operational. Running with Ashley to the transporter room, she relayed to the transporter officer for the two of them to beam over to that ship and see if she could get mostly operational to help in the fight. Having firsthand experience, there was more good she could do from there than from here. Although she wouldn't do much, she could do some things from a distance while the others followed in the fight. "Ashley, come with me. We're going to have some exploratory history lessons commencing. Specifically on that ship."

She pointed at the vessel on the screen on the LCARS station down the corridor. Ashley looked up at her and smiled as the two women paraded off towards the ship that would become a science project and history lesson in of itself.

"Exploratory lesson?" Ashley chuckled. "That better not be code for ‘you fly while I rewire plasma conduits.’"

"It’s code for ‘we’re going to make history’" Alana winked.

OOC: Continued this portion with Alana and Ashley on A Blast From The Past...[/i]
OOC: Tessa established already in Turning Into the Wind / For all the blood-tainted stars...

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #23 – August 01, 2025, 11:11:40 PM

[ Lt. JG Nysarisiza “Nysari” zh’Eziarath | Battle Bridge | Deck 8 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn:
[Show/Hide]

Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. That had been Nysari’s prevailing opinion of the past few days. Arriving back at the Triangle to find the Theurgy in the midst of a pitched battle only reaffirmed that description. She had hoped – against all reason, admittedly – that diplomacy had prevailed here where it had failed on Romulus, and that they would return to find officers volleying words instead of torpedoes. Instead, she sat in silence as Lillee had flown them through the battle to the relative safety of the Ranger, white knuckles gripping her chair to keep from jumping at each jolt that rocked the ship. She’d served during the deadliest war in Starfleet history, and she still hadn’t gotten used to this.

Once docked, she’d followed the Romulan pilot through the airlock. Presumably, everyone was hurrying to their battle stations, but she didn’t wait to see. Nysari was moving a bit slower than normal, so she stayed to the side as she walked the corridors, fingers lightly trailing along the wall to help keep her balance. She had abandoned her Romulan disguise the moment they’d returned to the Allegiant, assuming that releasing her antennae from where they’d been forcibly hidden against her scalp would bring some relief. Instead, she was just as dizzy and nauseous as she’d been originally. Having spent a few days adapting to life without antennae, she now had to adapt to having them back.

She would have preferred a stop off at her quarters to clean up first, but there wasn’t time. Even Nysari wasn’t vain enough for hair and makeup to take precedence over red alert. Not that it was an option anyway, since her quarters were on vector 1, and she hadn’t been reassigned after her quick promotion to the vector 2 assistant department chief.

So, the Andorian arrived on the battle bridge a bit worse for wear compared to her normal pristine appearance. Her face was free of makeup save for a slight oily sheen that remained from her Romulan disguise, her hair was cropped short and sticking up all over the place, a result of running her fingers through it a few times to unstick it once freed from the black wig, and her antennae were rigid and remained slightly inflamed.

Like she’d said, it had been a rough couple of days. Unless a miracle happened, it was probably going to get worse.

She got right to work, taking an unoccupied station at the back of the bridge and opening a data link to the Allegiant’s computer. Tal’aura’s forces had cut the communication with Captain Ives before he’d been able to explain to them that she was infested. But maybe there was still a way to get the truth to them. "Let's see what we recorded..." she said quietly under her breath, the words lost in the hum of activity as battle raged in the space around them.

OOC: Nysari and Azrin continued in: EP2 BTS | D03 | 0003 hrs] Flammis Acribus Addictis
Janus started in EP 2 BTS | D02 | 2300 hrs] Turning Into the Wind and is continuing in CH2: S [Day 2 | 2315 hrs] For all the blood-tainted stars... so he just isn't gonna show up in this thread.

Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle

Reply #24 – August 02, 2025, 05:45:03 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Battle Bridge | USS Ranger ] ATTN: @Brutus @Nolan @ob2lander961 @Hans Applegate @Dumedion @rae @chXinya @Eirual @tongieboi @Griff @Stegro88 @Tae e @joshs1000 @RyeTanker @Krajin @Number6 @Pierce @Nesota Kynnovan @SomeBunny @Dree @P.C. Haring @Eden @TWilkins

The debris field from the continued firefight seemed to double every second, and the familiar weight of exhaustion settled across Cross' shoulders like an old cloak. An old Terran phrase about frying pans and fires didn't seem strong enough for this shitstorm. His jaw tightened as reports flooded in from the various ships engaged in the melee. The sight of disabled vessels and the telltale energy signatures of weapons fire painted a grim picture across the displays. Cross had seen enough battles to recognize when a situation was rapidly deteriorating, and this one bore all the hallmarks of chaos about to spiral completely out of control.

Then the reports started flooding in—boarders. *Fucking brilliant.*

Cross's expression darkened as his own ship's sensors confirmed the worst-case scenario. It wasn't enough that they'd walked into the middle of a fleet engagement; now, hostile forces were attempting to take ships from within. Because why the hell would anything ever be simple?

"All hands, this is Lieutenant Commander Cross," his voice carried the authority of command as it echoed through the Ranger's comm system. "We have confirmed reports of hostile boarders across multiple friendly vessels. All personnel are to arm themselves immediately and prepare to repel boarders. This is not a drill."

He paused, his tactical mind already running through contingencies. "Computer, initiate emergency protocol Seven-Alpha. Lock out all non-essential console access. Authorization Cross-Seven-Seven-Beta."

The computer's acknowledgment was swift, and Cross knew that any boarders who managed to get aboard would find their access to critical systems severely limited. It was a small comfort, but in situations like this, every advantage mattered.

His attention was then drawn to an incoming transmission from someone identifying himself as PO2 Knox. Cross had never heard the name before, but then again, King had a habit of sending operatives without advance notice. The message crackled through with a sort of sardonic levity that somehow, strangely, lent credence to its sincerity. Through the very non-standard message, Cross caught the critical details: stolen fighter, cloaked Romulan vessels, coordinates.

Well, an enemy probably wouldn't call to offer assistance, Cross mused sardonically. Though at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if they did just to fuck with us.

Cross leaned forward, activating his comm with sharp precision. "Knox, this is Lieutenant Commander Cross. Understood on the status of your vessel and Romulan positions. The Klingons aboard those ships are friendlies. Repeat: do NOT engage Klingon forces. They're on our side in this clusterfuck. Knox, you're cleared to engage Romulan targets by any means necessary, but be advised—unless you can find a way to differentiate your ship from the others without broadcasting your assistance to every sensor array in the area, you're running the risk of friendly fire. Our people are going to be shooting at anything that looks remotely hostile, and right now, that's pretty much everything that moves."

He turned to his communications officer. "Patch Knox's communication directly through to Lieutenant Commander Rel. Priority channel."

Let the flight commander deal with the coordinates while I handle the bigger picture, Cross thought, already moving on to the next crisis.

"Stay alive out there, Knox. We need every asset we can get," Cross said aloud, closing his part in the channel.

Cross paused, his tactical mind already moving to the next priority. The Ranger shuddered slightly as they continued to engage the enemy, and he could hear the steady thrum of the ship's weapons systems coming online.

Another day in paradise, he thought bitterly.

[ Ehfva Feynri | Sickbay | The Helmet ]

The hypospray's effects began to fade and consciousness returned to Ehfva with the sharp clarity of a predator awakening to danger. Her eyes snapped open, heterochromatic orbs scanning the medical bay around her with the same methodical precision she had once used to survey enemy positions during the civil war. The ship shuddered around them, the distinctive vibrations of weapons fire and hull impacts reverberating through the deck plating beneath her prone form. They were still under attack.

Ehfva attempted to rise, and immediately felt the continued wrongness of her current state. Her body was caught in a grotesque limbo between her various forms—patches of timber wolf fur sprouted from arms that bore too-long fingers tipped with razor-sharp claws, her face an unsettling blend of human and lupine features that would have made even the ancient Terran monster Frankenstein appear beautiful by comparison. The Savi's twisted experiments had left her transformation abilities in chaos, her body unable to settle into any one form completely. All the doctor had been able to do was momentarily quell the pain.

But it was back, a gnawing ache that radiated from every partially-shifted nerve ending, every malformed bone and sinew. Where once she had taken pride in the elegant fluidity of her shapeshifting abilities, now she was trapped in this nightmarish amalgamation of all her forms. It should have broken her spirit, left her cowering in the medical bay like a wounded animal. Instead, it fed something far more dangerous.

As Ehfva's gaze swept across the medical personnel tending to wounded crew members—these people who had risked everything to pull her from the Savi's cold chamber of horrors—a fierce maternal instinct blazed to life. The same protective fury that had once driven her to legendary status as "Ha'tIa" during the Vulpinian civil war now focused itself on the crew of this ship.

A medical technician approached her biobed, scanner in hand. "You need to remain still. Your transformation matrix is still highly unstable, and—"

"No." The word emerged as a low growl, carrying undertones from her feral form that made the technician step back instinctively. Ehfva swung her legs over the side of the biobed, ignoring the protests of her partially-shifted anatomy. "These people saved me from those... creatures. I will not lie here helpless while this battle continues."

"You're not armed," another medic protested, moving to block her path. "You're barely stable enough to walk, let alone—"

Ehfva flexed her fingers, extending claws that were longer and sharper than any single form should have possessed. When her lips pulled back in what might charitably be called a smile, both sets of her dental arrangements were visible—human teeth backed by lupine fangs designed for tearing flesh from bone.

"I am never unarmed," she said simply.

The medical staff exchanged uncertain glances, but the ship's violent shuddering made their decision for them. They had wounded to tend to, and if this strange, partially-transformed woman wanted to throw herself into battle, they couldn't spare the personnel to stop her.

Ehfva moved through the corridors of the Helmet with predatory grace, her enhanced senses—jumbled though they were—picking up the scents and sounds of conflict ahead. She refocused her mind, making pain her ally rather than her enemy. Every spike of discomfort became fuel for the battle rage building in her chest. The gnawing pain of her continued partial transformation was no longer an impediment. It was ammunition for the battle rage that had once earned her the name of a death goddess.

The Savi had taken her mate. They had tortured her, violated the very essence of what made her Vulpinian. And now, other forces threatened the crew of the Theurgy who had pulled her from that nightmare. She would not allow it.

Following the sounds of weapons fire and shouted commands, Ehfva made her way toward the nearest area of violence. As she rounded a corner and saw the security team engaged with hostile boarders, Ehfva felt the last of her civilized restraint slip away. These invaders had made a critical error—they had threatened her new pack. And the wolf that dwelt within her, regardless of which form she wore, would make them pay for that mistake in blood.

[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Diplomacy Department | The Helmet ]

The diplomatic suite aboard the Helmet had been transformed into something resembling a war room, with multiple communication arrays active and her staff frantically working to maintain contact with what remained of their tenuous alliances. Enyd stood behind the central console, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge, watching her aides struggle with increasingly futile attempts to reestablish communication with the Romulan flagship.

"Still nothing, Lieutenant," her aide reported, frustration evident in his voice. "The Romulan vessels have gone completely dark. No response to any of our hails."

Enyd's jaw tightened, and she felt that familiar burn of anger building in her chest—the same fury that had once driven her to lash out at a Tellarite official during her darker days on Vulcan. *Goddamn it, Donatra.* She had done exactly what Enyd had feared she would do, exactly what she had warned Commander Stark about in their previous briefings.

The irony wasn't lost on her. Normally, Enyd rather enjoyed being proven wrong—it usually meant a better outcome for everyone involved, and her natural tendency toward pessimistic contingency planning had been unnecessarily cautious. But not this time. This time, she had been devastatingly, catastrophically correct in her assessment that Donatra was a liability, someone who would twist against them the moment they didn't comply with her every demand.

I told Stark this would happen, Enyd thought bitterly, her mind racing back to their strategic meetings. Donatra demanded we keep the thalaron technology information to ourselves. She specifically ordered us not to share anything with the Klingons. And what did we do the minute we received the intelligence from both the Oneida and Apache mission teams? We told Chancellor Martok everything. And damn it all, for good reason. Likely Martok would've broken the alliance had we done anything but that!

The ship shuddered around them as another barrage of weapons fire found its mark, and Enyd felt the familiar weight of helplessness that came with being a diplomat in the middle of a shooting war. For a moment, she simply stood there, her green eyes reflecting the red emergency lighting as she grappled with the question that had plagued every diplomat since the profession began: what the hell was she supposed to do when words failed and violence took over?

Then her mind shifted to the thalaron weapon technology they had learned about. She knew Frank Arnold was likely already working on countermeasures from within the ship's engineering sections—her friend was nothing if not thorough when it came to protecting the ship and crew. But backup plans had kept her alive through Cardassia, through the torture, through losing Javec. Backup plans were what separated the living from the dead in her line of work.

"Keep trying to hail any Romulan vessel," she ordered her staff, her voice carrying the crisp authority that had served her well in negotiations across a dozen worlds. "I don't care if it's a warbird, a shuttle, or a maintenance pod. Request an immediate ceasefire for diplomatic talks. Use every frequency, every protocol we have."

Moving to her personal console with determined strides, Enyd activated a priority channel to the Helmet's command center. The familiar face of Commander Stark appeared on her screen, looking harried but alert as the bridge continued to coordinate their defense.

"Commander," Enyd began without preamble, her diplomatic training allowing her to maintain professional composure even as her mind raced with increasingly desperate options. "I need to speak with you about our current tactical situation. I believe our best chance of ending this engagement lies not in defeating Donatra's forces through superior firepower, but in direct diplomatic intervention." She paused, knowing that what she was about to propose would sound insane to anyone with an ounce of tactical sense. "In my professional opinion, a diplomat would be most effective at ending this battle by conducting negotiations from aboard a Romulan vessel, not from the relative safety of the Helmet."

Enyd let that sink in for a moment before continuing, her green eyes reflecting a determination that had carried her through the darkest moments of her career. "I'm requesting permission to attempt a diplomatic transport to Donatra's flagship. I would like to accompany the team that you've ordered to take out the thalaron cannon. If Donatra wants to play games with ceasefires and broken agreements, then let's play them face to face, where her posturing will be significantly less effective."

The plan was audacious, potentially suicidal, and exactly the kind of "cowboy diplomacy" that had made her both famous and infamous throughout the Diplomatic Corps. But as the ship continued to shake under enemy fire, Enyd knew that sometimes the most dangerous path was the only one that led to survival. After all, she hadn't survived Cardassia by playing it safe.

[Hirek tr'Aimne, Racing Toward Engineering | Deck 7 | The Helmet]

Boots hammered the deck beneath him in chaotic rhythm as Hirek tr’Aimne half-ran, half-stumbled around the smoldering ruin of what might have once been a door. The ship groaned and shuddered. He pushed against the EV suit to move faster. Kino Jeen’s barked, half-growled, and entirely exasperated “suggestion” that he stop being useless and get to Engineering still amused him despite the danger he was quite literally running into. There was something amusing about being ordered around by someone who clearly wanted to murder him in a slow, satisfying fashion. Her face, as ever, had hovered somewhere between "restrained homicide" and "disgusted team captain."

He ducked under a burst conduit, sparks cascading over his head. He was nearing the thick of it now. At least the thick of it for here, since there was plenty more outside the ship. And knowing a certain pilot, she was likely in the middle of that thick too. He couldn't help the twitch of a grin. If she was in the thick of it—and with her, chaos wasn’t just probable, it was gravitational—then he hoped Talia hadn't gotten herself blown up. She wore rage beautifully, like some humans wore tailored jackets. It would be a shame to lose the opportunity to bait her again.

Rounding the next bend, Hirek slowed just enough to avoid making himself an easy target, weapon raised. The corridor stretched ahead, quieter than expected. Which usually meant worse things. He took a breath. Then another. Not too long ago, he'd been perfectly happy brewing the finest ale in the empire on his family’s island—sunlight, sea air, no one trying to shoot him every other week. Now?

Now he was sprinting headlong into firefights after a brief stint of Romulan torture, being yelled at by angry Trills, and genuinely hoping someone would try to punch him so he could punch them back harder. What a marvelously strange turn his life had taken.

Movement in his periphery had Hirek twisting, pulling his weapon up to fire. But the sight of an obviously not-Romulan, not-Klingon...creature, had his fingers staying instead of deploying the trigger. He didn't recognize the man...woman...wolf...thing. She didn't move as she studied him, her features grotesque and rather terrifying.

"Who are you with?" Hirek asked, weapon still trained on her-him-it in case she turned out to be a feral experiment let loose in the chaos.

"The crew of this ship," was her snarling reply, "you are Romulan yet you wear a Federation EV suit."

Hirek rolled his eyes. "I'm with this crew as well. For now." At her head tipping, likely in confusion, he quickly added. "Long story. If you're with this crew, then you're with me. I'm heading to engineering."

"If that is where I am needed," she bowed her head toward him, "then I will go."

Now armed with a nightmarish creature striding at his flank and the weapon Jeen gave him, Hirek returned his attention to the task at hand. Ridding engineering of threats.

OOC: Cross continued in: EP2 BTS | D03 | 0003 hrs] Flammis Acribus Addictis; Ehfva continued in EP 2 S: [D3 | 0015hrs] If You Want Blood, You Got It ; Enyd continued on whatever thread that will be; Hirek continued in EP 2 S: [D3 | 0015hrs] If You Want Blood, You Got It

MAJOR BATTLE UPDATES

Romulan Boarding Operations (Thread: "Flammis Acribus Addictis") Status: Active infiltration in progress
Key Details:

40 Romulans have boarded the USS Theurgy (Ranger vector)
Led by Centurion Torak under Subcommander Sarata
Multiple teams targeting: fighter bay, shield generators, security checkpoints, engineering, command spaces
One team has captured an Andorian prisoner for interrogation/hostage use
Internal sensors partially damaged, giving boarders tactical advantage

Space Battle - Fighter Combat (Thread: "For all the blood-tainted stars...") Status: Intense ongoing fighter combat
Key Details:

Wolf squadron engaged with multiple Romulan D'Deridex warbirds
Klingon Phantoms providing support alongside Federation fighters
USS Helmet under heavy bombardment from three D'Deridex vessels
Tactical situation described as "madness made manifest"

USS Helmet Bridge Operations (Thread: "Heavy is the Head") Status: Critical situation, heavy casualties
Key Details:

Ensign Llewellyn-Kth and others managing evasive maneuvers under extreme pressure
Tactical officer MacFarlane killed by conduit explosion/debris
Ship's shields critically weakened
Successfully destroyed one cloaked vessel through ramming maneuver
Multiple pursuing warbirds still engaged

Internal Security Crisis (Thread: "If You Want Blood, You Got It") Status: Double agent revelation and ongoing infiltration
Key Details:

Jaeih T'haelaa revealed as Romulan sentinel working against Empress Donatra
Claims multi-pronged assault targeting ship's AI "Thea"
Security team led by PO2 Kino Jeen attempting to contain situation
Hull breach occurred during confrontation
Intelligence suggests coordinated attack on ship's command systems

Derelict Ship Revival (Thread: "A Blast From The Past...") Status: Unexpected asset activation
Key Details:

Lt. Commander Alana Pierce discovers the derelict ship is actually the USS Eagle (Constitution Class Refit)
Pierce's former command, thought to be in Fleet Museum
Ship has been upgraded with Ferengi disruptor weapons instead of phasers
Pierce assumes command with emotional connection to the vessel
Small crew assembled: Pierce (command), Ashley Kerina (science), William Lewis (CONN), "Scruffy" Leblanc (engineering)
Positioning as additional reinforcement and "target practice" distraction