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Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: [2376] Entanglement of Chaos

Last post by RyeTanker - June 24, 2024, 09:29:56 PM

[Ensign XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Ens. Zark) | Federation Embassy Compound | Cardassia Prime] Attn: @Ellen Fitz

Zark didn't have the sense to not protest when her wife broke the kiss, and this escaped her lips in something between a mewl and a groan. It had been a long time since she had this particular body in any sort of intimate contact. It was even keener reminder now that the body in question was straddling her waist and in case of not so sound judgement, she began to wriggle under her wife. To the casual observer, it looked like she was trying to get out from under the body on top of her. It was more of an attempt to get back at her wife by trying to make her uncomfortable. The Zhen grinned slightly when she saw her antennae on top of her wife's head begin to writhe very slowly. She was quite good though as she talked to everyone in a level voice and Zark's smile hid her biting her lower lip as she raised her hip slightly, then gripped the Shen's hips as if to push her off. Except she squeezed a little harder than necessary and she could see the other woman's nostrils flare. She practically also see the gears in her head start to stream smoke as Ryzit seriously considered taking up Enyd on her offer for the two to get re-acquainted. The only issue was an even like that was going to take a day at least.

Any examination of what to do was interrupted by another man walking in. "This is quite the sight." Francisco Piera could be heard commenting. "Zark stifled a sigh when she heard him. He looked at Enyd next and a frown creased his goateed face when he saw her holding the PADD. "I take it you had something to do with this display?" Francisco Piera was the CDO's overbearing Chief of Staff, or as Ensign Zark liked to think of him, the Ambassador's mother hen wanna be chief advisor/assistant. The ambassador had a secretary, but it was the Chief of Staffs job to act as a gate keeper and handle the day-to-day minutae. He regarded himself as something of a diplomat extraordinaire, and mainly worked at higher level diplomacy. This led to a certain haughtiness in his dealing with others since he thought of himself as mover and shaker of important events, and led to a certain friction with the rest of the embassy. While the ambassador may have regarded Enyd's efforts at the grass roots level with a some exasperation, Francisco Piera regarded the junior diplomat as a menace; especially since she was Starfleet instead of the regular diplomatic service, which afforded her some insulation from his influence. His tendency to treat the Security as hired help didn't endear him to that department either. He was generally tolerated since he really was very good at his job, and at least recognized his arrogance as a something that wasn't helpful most of the time. It just slipped out as a natural reaction.

Ryzit could read her wife quite well and she saw the way that the Zhen's antennae pulled back against her head and this set of warning bells in the cop's head. "I'm sure your enjoying the view." She replied sweetly and made a show of getting up by pressing on Zark's breasts to push her self up. Zark sucked in her breath and tucked in head hide her reaction. The new comer then made her way over to the stiffly offacious diplomat and held out her hand. "Inspector Ashryzit sh’Oshraalrath, Andorian Peacekeepers. A pleasure to meet you...?" Piera smiled stiffly as he brought up his hand to shake the other Andorian's hand. "Francisco Piera, chief of staff for the ambassador." As his hand enfolded her gently, he was getting ready to be gracious and bring his hand to her lips to kiss the top in an exaggerated sense of courtesy, ignoring the fact that it just had a handful of tit in it. That was until the blue hand squeezed his and steadily applied more pressure.

It was game that two could play though and he smiled a bit too naturally as he squeezed back. He would eventually win, but the whole test of will was interrupted when the other Andorian picked herself up off the floor and cleared her throat. "Ashryzit, it is good to see you." She started as she re-arranged her sports bra. "You were saying something about money though? Something to do with the latinum bust we made recently?" Ashryzit's smiled at the human contained an edge before forcing her hand apart to make him let go. Andorian's were stronger pound for pound, so it wasn't that hard for her to break the hold. "Indeed, now, Mister Chief of Staff, I'm sure information regarding resources that would be used to destabilize the rebuilding of Cardassian is certainly important, so let's sit down with the ambassador and I can answer all your questions as to what the Federation Security Agency found."

The Chief of Staff looked at her incredulously for a moment. "The ambassador is a busy man, so I'll need to verify that this information does pertain to the situation here." He looked over at Zark. "I'm sure you can find a way to distract yourself till then." Ashryzit glared daggers at the insinuation when a new voice broke in. "Do you have a copy of the information that I can take a look at?" Piera frowned as his head turned towards the Bolian who stepped in beside him. Commander Herasin introduced himself and offered his hand which the Andorian cop shook. Opening up her jacket, she pulled out a PADD and handed it to the security chief. "It's only a summary. I have the rest of the information on me for a more formal presentation, but time is of the essence." Commander Herasin looked up from the PADD. "Indeed, how come?" he asked lowering the PADD to focus on the cop. "The anniversary of The Riding Hound is coming up and I'm sure a casino is good way to launder some ill gotten latinum." Commander Herasin had suspected as much, but getting information to do anything about it had been difficult. The raids that Ensigns Zark and Madsen had participated in had only nabbed some low level Syndicate operators who didn't know much. "And I'd be happy to share it, assuming of course I can meet with someone with the authority to launch a recovery operation." Commander Herasin looked at the PADD once more and skimmed it quickly. A lot of the data points added up to what he'd found. "The meeting can be arranged." He looked at the Chief of Staff who was still scowling. "It's just a matter of whether you help make the time or I interrupt his day. It's up to you."

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Chapter 2: DIS Engage [ Day 1 | 1259 ]

Last post by rae - June 24, 2024, 01:32:34 AM

[ Lt. Azrin Ryn | Engineering | Deck 25-26 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @RyeTanker @Dumedion @Brutus @Ellen Fitz @Number6 @Nero @Nolan @Havenborn @tongieboi @chXinya @Pierce @joshs1000
[Show/Hide]

“Azrin can’t come back right now,” she replied in a singsong voice, already halfway to her destination. If she had been thinking straight, or thinking of anything at all beyond the immediate issue with the drive systems, she never would have spoken to Frank like that. Excitable as she normally was, even that couldn’t compare to how thoroughly Starfleet drilled respect for the chain of command. The world seemed to slow down again as she slid down the ladder that connected the two levels of engineering, which was… interesting. She’d have to run a diagnostic on the gravity plating later, but she’d worry about that then.

“Have to…” Azrin shook her head to clear the space dust. What was with her brain today? She’d injured her shoulder, and she’d refused Arven’s multiple, overkill attempts at sedation. She wasn’t even sleepy anymore. Short as it was, her catnap in sickbay this morning had done wonders, and coffee had dealt with the rest. She had no reason to feel strange. No time for it. At least her fingers still knew their job, logging into another diagnostic console as nimbly as ever, then moving to yank a panel off this section of the slipstream matrix. “Have to see it. Corgin’s fault.” She had explained to Frank over a week ago about the Savi scientist’s reluctance to provide any information on the slipstream drive. The Savi might have given the Theurgy a working slipstream drive, but they refused to explain any deeper knowledge on its workings, fearful that Starfleet would recreate it. Azrin had complained that this restriction would hinder the Theurgy’s engineers in fixing any malfunctions. Corgin had threatened to take the entire system back. And now here they were. Vindication. Somehow, the ‘I told you so’ didn’t feel all that great. “Stupid. Savi. Rulebook.”

“Gravitons!” She explained as she tapped in new diagnostic, starting with a shout meant either for Frank on the other end of the combadge or whoever had followed her down here. Or both. Both sounded good. Her brain jumped back into action like someone had given it a good shove. “Energy and benamite makes graviton particles, we strip them off the crystals, charge them into some kind of quantum state – which Corgin should describe in more detail – then route them through the navigational deflector. Then bam! Slipstream. It’s more complicated than that, but I’m busy. Normally if there were gravitons somewhere there shouldn’t be, internal sensors would be sounding off. But since we don’t know exactly how the gravitons are being altered, maybe our scans aren’t picking them up. Again, Corgin, if you're listening, let me do more intense scans inside this beauty. The conduits speed the gravitons up to shoot them out the deflector, which generates radiation, because gravitons are gravitons, even if they’re special quantum ones. If there’s a crack in one of the graviton conduits, then its feeding charged speedy gravitons back into the system, which would make mini gravitational waves.” Azrin paused, mouth falling open for a second as her brain caught up with her words.

“Then that feeds back into the benamite, excites more gravitons off the crystals, makes a bigger wave that goes down into the EPS system…” Ah, that was really bad wasn’t it? “Boom.”

The drive was in cooldown, which meant that the only gravitons moving through the conduits now would be the leftover stragglers, nowhere near the power pushing through when it was actually active. But clearly that would still be enough. Even though they were all about to die, she was truly impressed yet again by the sheer power of this thing. “If it wasn’t getting a second wind off the crystal…” She mumbled quietly, mulling it over.

“Oh, we have to pull the benamite out.” She said it calmly enough, as though the crystal wasn’t surrounded by a happy cocoon of radiation right now. “Seal the crack, pull the benamite, and whatever little waves left in between shouldn’t be enough to cause any more damage. They can roll right out to sea.” Yeah, that would work. Provided they could do it quickly before the damage to the warp cores became too severe.

“Someone watch this scan,” she pointed to the monitor, “and stick a tricorder in there,” the hand turned to point at the open panel, “and see if you or Thea can find the cracked conduit first. Then take a laser torch to it! We’ll yank it and install a new one later.”

Then Azrin was moving, belatedly following Frank’s order as she scrambled back to upper engineering. She paused on the ladder, almost slipping off as a surge of energy flowed through her, a full body tremble so strong she swore even the symbiont jittered. That was insane. Symbionts didn’t move inside hosts. People just talked like that for dramatic effect. “Head rush,” she breathed, leaning her forehead against the cool metal rung for a moment. “Fallen off enough ladders for today thanks.” Azrin could just see the look on his face if she injured herself in the exact same way twice in one day.

She finished her climb like the little interlude had never happened, popping back to where the others were waiting. There was definitely more leadership quality here, standing in a command post and giving orders. Azrin could never handle that. She needed the physical act of fixing something.

“The radiation levels should decrease dramatically once the benamite is out,” she explained breathlessly, grabbing a portable forcefield and some other anti-rad equipment from zh’Ron, who was helpfully walking by with a pile. “It’s a tricky, precision thing, especially with a forcefield, tongs, gloves in the way, and we have to do it quickly so we don’t flood this room with radiation too. Here’s how we…” Halfway through pulling a radiation glove on, a piece of equipment so thick and bulky that engineers routinely joked that an actual lead glove would be preferable, Azrin stopped, staring at her hand as though it was a foreign object.

Her fingers were shaking.

Arguably, there was nothing weird about that. She ingested enough caffeine every day to give anyone else a serious case of the jitters. Some people shook even without a stimulant. But Azrin was an engineer. She did precision work through wars, explosions, and intense sleep deprivation. Even barely conscious, her fingers knew how to rewire a system without hesitation, rock steady. They had never, ever failed her. Yet here she was, flushed, heart racing, and trembling. Just like what had started on the ladder, and apparently hadn’t stopped.

“I don’t feel right,” she said quietly. And how the fuck was she supposed to pull the benamite crystal out now?

OOC: Arven fucked her up.

To recap, two things need to be done:

Crawl through the innards of the slipstream drive and seal a crack on a graviton conduit
Pull the benamite crystal out of the drive *hint hint @Nolan, because Sarresh specifically mentioned Kythalie's steady hands

@RyeTanker will go next, and Frank will give his orders, which will presumably involve venting some nasty radiation out of the nacelles, but its up to him.

We've dropped out of warp just after crossing into the Romulan Neutral Zone. Everyone looking at the calendar knows that the Romulans themselves haven't come to play yet, but your characters will not! Stay on the lookout, bridge people and fighters.

If you fix the ship in this round, we can go fight Romulans, just so you're aware. Totally unsubtle hint here.

Director's Cut / Re: [2366] USS Augusta: Kath's Horrible Terrible No Good Very Bad Day

Last post by JacenSoloDjo - June 23, 2024, 10:35:43 PM

Earth | 2366 | Starfleet Hospital; California

"Once I get used to this thing, I am so kicking your ass for saying that!" Sandra said, her arms shaking as she walked in between the parallel bars, slowly learning to put more and more weight on the prosthesis for her physical therapy.

Kath laughed, reaching out to help pull Sandra's hair into a ponytail.

"I think you'd look cute with a Vulcan bowl cut!" Kath repeated. Sandra hooked one arm around one bar and used her other to take a swing at the other woman. Kath easily dodged and barked laughter.

"No one will notice the leg, you gotta appear a little bit physically changed!" Kath defended. And yet, it nagged in the back of her mind. Should she really be saying these things? Even if Sandra encouraged it?

"Mi socia, my curls will never allow such a cut. It will frizz out all over. Not cute!" Sandra huffed, returning her hand to the bar and continuing her slow trek along.

"Even better!" Kath teased.

Sandra rolled her eyes. Once she got to the other end of the bars, Kath half carried Sandra to a chair nearby. Slowly Sandra lowered into it.

"I should be able to at least stand at Althan's funeral," Sandra said. Kath felt an oppressively uncomfortable blanket of awkwardness cover them.

"Y-yeah. I think so, too. And I'm one of the pallbearers," Kath agreed quickly. She really did hope so. She did not know why she had been asked to help carry the casket, after all wasn't it her fault he was dead?

"I bet you don't need any help. You've bulked up since we got back to Earth," Sandra said, her voice turning gentle as if speaking to an easily spooked animal.

"Well, I mean... if I had just been... faster. Bulkier..." Kath muttered, looking away from her friend.

"Hey. No. Kath, did you see a therapist like I suggested yet?" Sandra said, frowning at the other woman.

Biting her lip, her only 'tell', Kath kept her gaze turned from Sandra. Reaching out, Sandra turned Kath's face back.

"Please. You were hurt, too. And we all lost Althan. It isn't healthy to just bottle that all up."

"I'm fine!" Kath snapped, pulling away. But they both knew that small sentence alone proved she wasn't. The guilt of the survivor. Or, more succinctly: survivor's guilt.

What did she care? She had only known Althan a couple months. Only knew them all a couple months. What kind of friendship can form in just a couple months? Ignoring of course, how close she was to Sandra.

"I have to go see Brent. See if his doctors say he can help me with Althan," Kath said, standing up abruptly.

"Kath--" Sandra tried but her friend, the eternal soldier, left the room without another word.

Earth | 2366 | Starfleet Veteran Assisted Living; California

"I-I dunno, Kath. I really want to but the doctors say I could reverse all the work I've been putting in," Brent said softly, too ashamed to look his friend in the eye. Out of Sandra, Brent, and Jacob, Brent seemed to be taking it as well as Kath was. Kath did not know if that was good or bad, yet. But at least she felt a little better when she was around him.

"Sure, Brent. No problem! Your recovery is way more important," Kath said. But they both heard the edge to her voice. They only had a funeral for Althan once. Brent couldn't ask for a do-over later if he started feeling guilty about carrying the casket -- or not, in this case.

"If you can't, I'll ask Jacob if that's okay with you. His rehab is going quicker than Sandra's and he only needs one arm to do the thing," Kath said after a long silence where all that happened was Brent investigating the glass of juice he had leftover from breakfast.

Althan's parents had insisted his crewmates be the pallbearers. Not any of his family, a family filled with physically stronger Vulcans. Kath did not know why she was organizing the whole thing. But in her guilt, her desire for everything to go right had swum to the surface.

"And if anything goes wrong I can just say it wasn't me, it was the one-armed man," the poor taste joke left her before she even knew she was thinking it. Kath and Brent just stared at each other for a few heartbeats before laughter left them both, helpless to do otherwise.

"That was... terrible," Brent stated when they finally calmed down.

"Si si si, I know," Kath said, another lone chuckle escaping. But she noticed Brent wasn't as morose as he had been. And that, after all, had been her goal.

Earth | 2366 | Starfleet Cemetery; Enlisted Plots

Jacob and Kath walked at the front, holding up Althan's casket with relative ease. One of Althan's other friends from a different ship took the back along with a younger cousin.

Slowly, carefully, they lowered it onto the stand next to his memorial picture. A tent had been erected to keep the worst of the California sun off the visitors.

"You alright? All things considered?" Kath asked Jacob in a low voice as they went to sit in their assigned spots close to the front.

"Yeah. Shoulder hurts from carrying... him," Jacob replied quietly. His gaze lowered to the ground. The grass looked good. Everything looked nice -- for a funeral. Jacob had used his organic arm for most of the carrying, Kath having arranged it that way on purpose despite his assurance he was actually getting along well with his rehab. Sandra sat in the row behind them and reached over to put a hand on Kath's shoulder. Kath looked over then nodded to her friend. Sandra smiled slightly then gripped Jacob's good shoulder. He just barely smiled. Brent sat next to her and nodded to Kath and Jacob. Kath had noticed how he sat very straight, which was new.

Kath, not exactly knowing how a Vulcan and human mixed funeral went, found herself giving rapt attention to the whole event. She listened as his Vulcan side of the family honored his intelligence and logic while his human side remarked on his ability to make those around him feel at ease and how often he smiled in a way you couldn't help but smile back.

When it was his Augusta crewmates' turn, Kath was glad she had written out what she had wanted to say-- in bullet points but still. She had gotten prepared. She had never expected needing to prepare for a friend's funeral so soon, however.

"I did not know him long, but I know I liked him. During our tour on the Augusta, he explained how he used his emotions in battle to keep himself grounded and the worst experiences at bay. Anger can move mountains." She paused for a moment. Wondered briefly how the Vulcan side appreciated that last part. "I also know he hated the war and just wanted to go home. I'm sorry it had to happen like this."

Althan, like them all, had written out his will. Instead of being buried on Vulcan, in their Starfleet cemetery, he had chosen Earth to go with being far more Human in temperament and having more Human blood in him.

"I wish I could have saved him, and all the others we lost. I know he did not believe in an afterlife, so I won't contradict that belief. His memory will live on in all of us and that is enough."

Nodding mainly to herself, Kath walked off from the podium.

Later, after everyone had their say, the retinue retired to the gathering space for the after service. Tables were set up with food and drink and the walls held various pictures of Althan.

After getting some wine she wasn't familiar with, Kath wandered to join her friends.

"You did really good, mi socia," Sandra said with a gentle smile. She was sitting in a chair with her cane propped up next to her.

"Thanks. I just hope the Vulcan side of the family was okay with it," Kath replied with a slight smile in return.

"I think they knew Althan followed his Human side more," Sandra assured her.

Nodding, Kath looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be mingling more than she had hoped.

Althan wasn't the only casualty from the Augusta, but he was the closest to Kath and her friends. On the trip back home, the ship had had a combined memorial for everyone who had died on the greenery and mud ball.

It was only a short while later that the war ended. If Kath had entered Starfleet Academy any later, she would have missed it. A hell of a way to start your Starfleet career.

Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: USS Theurgy: What if - The Public Baths

Last post by Krajin - June 23, 2024, 09:54:42 PM

[ Dominic Winters | Public Baths | Vector 1 | Deck 12 | ATTN: @tongieboi @AbsintheDeux

Dominic looked between them as he considered the coming propositions and how they may enact their threesome. He was by far the largest of the three and young Joe seemed fairly inexperienced of how this might go down. To be fair, Dominic had been in one or two threesomes and other group activities before and had thoroughly enjoyed them. However, it did take a little work to get from point A to C.

He could already feel something stirring deep down at the idea of these three, the beautiful plant-like woman whose hues were evenly matched and young Joe who seemed quite keen to engage with them and did not at all seem intimidated. Unlike pure-blooded male Kzinti, Dominic didn’t need any sort of scent-based stimulants to get the engine warmed. His other half made it allot easier to do so and scents just acted as a stronger aphrodisiac to him.

His ears twitched and he shuffled over on his seat and pat the bench. “Well, first things first I guess. How about we all get acquainted with one another physically in looks and feel yeah? Learn a little about each other. Come, have a seat in no particular order and lets get into some exploration.” Foreplay for those of a smaller stature to take a guy his size is pretty important.

Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 19 [1430 hrs] A Quick Course in Cardiovascular Acceleration

Last post by RyeTanker - June 23, 2024, 04:37:37 PM

[Lt (JG) XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Lt. Zark) | Jefferies Tube Junction 12 Alpha | Deck ?? | Vector ?? | USS Theurgy] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Everyone tasted different. Whether it Faye, or Ryzit, or anyone else, it didn't seem to matter, no two pussies were the same. Each had something subtly different. In Reggie's case, it seemed more intense since she hadn't quite cleaned up after her workout session and Zark took it all in as her blue tongue flicked while her lips closed around the delicate pedals. The Betazoid responded well as there was a dull thud of a body hitting a bulkhead while the sounds of intense arousal drove the Andorian on to continue servicing her partner. It must have been a while for the Betazoid since she couldn't keep herself up and quickly became a puddle of desirous goo. This was old hat for the Zhen though as she let Reggie fall while giving her clit a last suck before her legs finally gave out.

Zark slithered up the tanned body and used her arms to hover over the pilot for just a moment, drinking in the look of lust written on her face before returning one of her own and closing her eyes to lock lips. Her sensitive nipples let the Zhen know their chests were pressing against each other and Zark moaned lightly into Reggie's mouth as her tongue sought out the Betazoid's to dance and play in the closed space between them.

There was a time to be in charge, and a time to let go. If Zark were less experienced, she wouldn't have recognized the signs of the shifting of momentum. Also, since she had a Shen who was more aggressive than she was, Zark could feel it as the Wolf's body encompassed her own in the erotic wrestling match and she felt Reggie pull away which Zark gave protest to with a mewl. The mewl gave way to a moan of delight as she felt a mouth close around her blue mound while others began to massage them. Blue lips parted in a gasp as she felt her pleasure centres become stimulated. The hands began to wander and her own anticipation felt like it was going to go through her head as the fingers made their way along her flat stomach, a brush against her hip.

Zark's eyes flew open and her mouth dropped open in a gasp as she gripped onto Reggie's shoulders. She could feel the fingers pushing, and pressing against her sex. A wave of warm pleasure rolled through her, with a pleasant intensity at her sex. A loud moan escaped her lips as her eyes closed, head lolling to the side. The Andorian's deceptively soft arms straightened along her head and her head rubbed against them for a moment. The motion soon carried to the rest of her body as she subsumed her being into the sensation, body rocking in rythm with the ministrations between her legs. "Ooooooh Reggie." Zark groaned out between pants of pleasure. "Fuck me, you're amazing."

Zark had no idea how long the dexterous Betazoid had been working on her, but as her moan and pants got closer together, her arms whipped out and pulled the pilot in to lock lips once more. One arm kept Reggie's head in place while the other one quickly made it's way down between Reggie's legs and the Zhen could feel a warm wetness that soon encompassed her digits as they ministered the other woman's sex with every dirty trick her fingers knew to bring the two to climax as close as possible.

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1700hrs] Cross on the Titan

Last post by Krajin - June 23, 2024, 11:17:41 AM

[ Dominic Winters | Lower Gymnasium | Vector 2 | Deck 14 | The Ranger ATTN: @Ellen Fitz

“Oh pfft. I have a thick skin. Offend me with words plenty as long as you’re willing to take it in return. Give and take.” Dominic started to really like Cross, despite the short time they had been sparring and enjoying the company of a solid workout with a Vulcan who was not about something that was adequate or acceptable.

Dominic looked slightly concerned at Cross being on his back after being tripped up until he laughed, which put him at ease. “A Prosthetic tail? Tails are useful until they start getting a mind of their own. Careful, yours might be a kleptomanic.” He responded with a twitch of the ears.

Holding a hand out to Cross to help him up. “I’d be concerned either way if it was or wasn’t from me. I like a good shaking of my confidence, don’t you worry. A solid ass kicking shows me I need to keep learning and there’s always better.” He frowned slightly. Crouching down even if Cross had taken his hand to get up or not. Just to be comfortable in a weird Kzint-squat. “As long as you’re not fucking the Savi. They might want to inject you directly.” He snorted. “Clearly the barbarian only knows how to rip the head off to fix the headache. Skip the boring the hole into the forehead or something in old earth history.” He joked. “Honestly? Not really. I know basic first aid and know some analgesic can do the trick. Not sure what dose for you though.” He thinks on it a moment. “I also hear getting off helps, Massage, cold compress, Hydration. Have you been eating properly to match your new forms needs?”

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO S [ Day 1 | 1200hrs ] ALL ABOARD the Crazy Train!

Last post by TWilkins - June 21, 2024, 03:24:36 PM

[ Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | The Conference Lounge | D.8 | V.2 | USS Theurgy] @Ellen Fitz

Non-negotiables. He’d never had reason to consider such things before.

Sylvain understood Starfleet directives as well as most Ensigns, perhaps moreso actually, given how much time he had dedicated to their study during his last few weeks at the Academy. They were the fundamental tenants of serving aboard a Starfleet vessel, the core directives of the Federation as a whole, and safeguards against all of the many dangers that could put the Federation at risk. Yet, despite their importance, Sylvain had never found much need to contemplate their existence, beyond how clean his boots needed to be. Directives and general orders were the territory of Captains and Commanders, the responsibility of those who would assume command of a vessel or a team; not CONN Officers who hadn’t so much as been alone on the Bridge.

Maybe that would change now, however... After all, he'd just been recruited as the Chief CONN Officer, and he was under the impression that Senior Staff Meetings aboard the Theurgy, might be a trifle more involved than the Senior Staff meetings he'd been involved in aboard the Bowman. Though, he did hope that the Theurgy still permitted cake.

But still, even a Senior Staff meeting was no comparison to the pressure that a Captain must have felt, the weight of the entirety of Starfleet's directives and general orders pressing down on their shoulders, a weight that turned every decision a Captain made into a potential matter of life or death. Sure, Sylvain was no stranger to making life or death decisions as a pilot, but those were decisions he could make based on tactical data and sensor analytics, decisions that he was specifically trained to make… They were also decisions that he made at the behest of his Captain, in collaboration with the tactical and operations Officers he was serving alongside; he didn't have to make choices alone.

So whilst he might have been familiar with Starfleet uniform code, conscious of Regulation 256.15, and certainly knowledgeable surrounding temporal directives, given his psionic capabilities, he was hardly beholden to the breadth of the Starfleet General Orders and Regulations, in the same way that a Captain would be.

And that was something that Sylvain suddenly felt acutely thankful for.

Whilst he couldn’t deny that he was relieved that the Theurgy was still operating at least somewhat in the interest of Starfleet directives, he didn’t envy the position that the Captain must have found themselves in as a result. They were at war with the Federation, and if Starfleet themselves were beginning to let their directives fall by the wayside, what chance did a lone ship have of upholding them fully? Sylvain had seen for himself that the orders of Task Force Archeron, and they were decidedly not orders to engage in diplomatic efforts… As Commander Cross had said, diplomacy wasn’t the solution to every situation, and whilst ignoring diplomacy altogether wasn't the Starfleet way, they were living in a reality where undue diplomacy could get them all killed...

Still, wasn’t there always a chance that diplomacy could work out? That innocent lives could be spared?

Yes, Sylvain was very glad not to have been in the Captain’s position...

“Thank you, Sir.” He replied with a decisive nod, both relieved and somewhat melancholy at the response he’d been given. “I’m suddenly feeling quite relieved that I’m a pilot; all I have to worry about is my uniform and making sure that I get permission before I chart a collision course…” He intended the latter as a joke, though Sylvain was about ninety percent sure that there was indeed a Starfleet directive regarding setting collision courses. He'd never needed to chart one; he'd never looked it up.

“I’m sure that I’ll get an idea of my non-negotiables soon enough.” Sylvain went on to confirm, watching the Commander’s face as his fingers found themselves feeling a little twitchy in the absence of the PADD that he’d previously returned to his bag. “But I can’t say I envy the position that the Captain bust be in; having to weigh up the benefits of the Starfleet way, verses the way that wins us this war, is…” He paused, unsure of what word would even begin to describe such a pressure. “...Y’know, probably, tricky.” He awkwardly settled on.

“And I still can’t fathom that a species who thrives on chaos and destruction survived long enough to put us in this position; I'd have thought that they’d have brought themselves to extinction long ago…” He pondered, aware that his knowledge on the subject was next to nothing, but unable to ignore the somewhat illogical nature of their way of life. Even the most chaotic species known to the Federation, weren’t entirely without order.. “Either way, I appreciate your explanation Sir, I'm glad that we're still making diplomatic efforts, even now. I hope it'll help demonstrate to others that you're not the bad guys that Starfleet Command is trying to tell them you are.” Sylvain stopped for a moment, correcting himself. "We are. Sorry, I'm still not quite sure it's sunk in yet."

Pushing thoughts of what would happen when the war concluded from his mind, Sylvain briefly considered if he had any further questions. He still had thousands, but time appeared to be of the essence, and he already had an entire species to review before he went on his next assignment.

“Anyway, I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time already Sir…” Sylvain began, conscious that he didn’t want to take up any more of the Commander’s time than was strictly necessary, and also acutely aware that he had work to do… “Obviously if you’ve got any questions for me, I’m happy to help, but if not, I’ve got a whole new species waiting in my quarters for me…” He playfully pointed upwards as he spoke, a somewhat relaxed smile hanging on his lips, before he furrowed his brows and switched his hand to point downwards instead. His quarters were below them... Or were they above? He moved to point upwards again, before he stopped himself and returned his hand to his lap; it really wasn't important, and he was beginning to look like a fool.

“I’m getting the impression that this is a bit of an ‘out of the replicator and into the warp core’, kind of situation.”

Main OOC Board / Re: Main OOC Thread

Last post by Krajin - June 19, 2024, 11:51:44 AM

Just a heads up with people. From the 24th of June, I will be heading to Army basic training for 12 weeks. As such I will be gone from posting for that time. I will be back! No matter what, I will be back!

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 4 S [ Day 01 | 1915 ] The Remains of a Crew

Last post by Dree - June 19, 2024, 06:25:25 AM

Ensign Sash Kreshkova | Unnamed Cell | Alternative Asteroid Station | Romulan Space | Attention @Ellen Fitz

Despite the abject exhaustion that permeated every part of Sash’s body, she found that listening to her companion soothed her ruffled spirit and despondent heart. The greenhaired human knew that there was some truth to what the wolf woman was saying - Her family was always with her in spirit, but having someone to lay a hand on her shoulder, to hug her, to share warmth in this frigid cell. Those were important to her as well, but maybe that was the human in her. Having just graduated from the Academy she realized that not all species share the same needs and desires.

But having the wolf woman there with her did comfort her - whether she brought any comfort to her companion or not may be another story, but she would try. Everyone needed someone, or … at least she thought they did.

As the young woman continued to listen, she learned her companion’s name - Ay-feh - or at least that’s how it sounded to her human ears, but then she heard something that didn’t surprise her, but she could feel herself blink several in quick succession as her eyes moistened.

It wasn’t enough that these creatures - whoever they were - derived joy from their prisoner’s pain and screams and pleas. They hadn’t just killed any person. While they had - Sash knew - killed plenty of people who had loved ones, others that counted on them, who cared for them, who shared children with them. But they had killed the spouse of her cell-mate of Ehfva.

Sash knew no one and nothing was sacred to this race, but something about this felt personal for her in a way that she hadn’t anticipated. Then the anger inside her bubbled up. These creatures looked at everyone else as nothing more than guinea pigs and the young and impulsive part of Sash’s heart wanted to walk over to the forcefield that partitioned them off from the rest of the ship and pound on it. She wanted to let these thugs know that what they were doing was more than cruel.

She looked into Ehfva’s eyes. She pulled her lips back into her mouth before saying, “I’m so sorry Ehfva.” Sash shook her head almost in a stutter as the young woman fought to keep her emotions in check. But she couldn’t. Her throat constricted, her eyes began to flood with tears, her breathing sped up and she scooted back from Ehfva as if some little space would give her more oxygen to breathe. But the Russian started gasping for air, and when she couldn’t get a good breath, she pushed herself against the wall and then into a standing position trying to catch the breath she had lost. Her eyes got big her right hand settled on her chest as her lips quivered. She couldn’t even bring herself to look to Ehfva for help though she knew she was going to pass out if something didn’t change and quickly.

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Chapter 1: Triggered Much? [ Day 1 | 1800hrs ]

Last post by Number6 - June 18, 2024, 01:11:03 PM

[Lt. Vanya | Corridor| Romulan Space Station | Romulan Space ] Attn: @Stegro88 @Nesota Kynnovan ynnovan @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @P.C. Haring @Hans Applegate @BipSpoon

Vanya had met Romulans before.   Hell, not long ago, there was a pow wow, to use the human idiom, for them on the Theurgy.   Yet to hear the voice of the full empire here in their space, far away from the comfort of Theurgy or the idyllic version of the Federation that seemed further away than ever send a cold shiver down her spine.    These people wanted to dismantle her, to sift through her mind for every engram and catalogue it of its secrets, then cast her remains into an industrial replicator to be recycled.

She was torn.   On one hand, she wanted to go back and flee, despite being a machine, the fear was real.   On the other hand, there was an opportunity to save her friends, and possibly herself.   There was a low probability of success, but short term it might give her crew more time to find the triggers.

She took out her tricorder, and desperately hunted for the triggers they were looking for.   The device circled through all the frequencies.   The reading wasn’t complete but the direction was clear.   She sent a remote message to the others and showed them the trail to follow.   Wordlessly she ran in the opposite direction. She came to a communications and stared at it directly.   She hit a control on her helmet, the visor slid aside to reveal her Romulan face, the ridges and ears would be picked up by any security camera watching.   She closed her eyes and hit a panel.

As she did, she registered the toxin in the air.   Although she was spared most of the destablilisng effects of the gas, she did feel it affecting her skin, sending pain racking through her body as her respitory system transferred it to her skin.    Once again she cursed her creators for giving her this body… she wanted to tear the skin from her flesh, to some how make it stop… but she had a perception to maintain.   She began to cough.

“This is Tal-Shiar operative 3347 you are impeding a classified operation.   Do not impede my team.   I repeat, do not impede my team.” She rasped between fake coughs. It was going to be a touch act to maintain but if she could slow them down, buy them time, perhaps they just might get through this.

She wondered how long it would take.   Her face may even be programmed into a list of Romulan defectors, but hopefully as a target, she would have more intrigue and they would come for her first.