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91
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1435 hrs] When Trolls Dance, Vulcans Growl
Last post by EnigmaTales -
[ Lt. JG V'lana | Sickbay Lobby  | D. 21 | V. 2 ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz

There was no other way to see the “stasis thing” than to say that it sucked. For everyone involved. It was something that was very present on V’lana’s mind, and something she didn’t mind sharing. It helped her to relate to how powerless patients felt when they lost control over something that always seemed a given, or what it felt like when ones head decided to simply not work any more.

But that didn’t mean she wanted to invalidate what Cross was going through. The two things were hardly comparable, and this wasn’t exactly a competition of “who has it worse”. 

“So far, I have two theories. I will say that they are theories, but something we can work with. On the one side, this might be a  neurovascular problem - we just don’t have enough comparative data. Essentially, changes in blood flow and corresponding blood vessel dilation in the brain can trigger headaches. Th neuro-pressure methods you mentioned could potentially influence the vascular tone.”



She tilted her head, regarding Cross for a moment.

“And then, there is stress. If you look at physical and mental exertion, it can lead to a phenomenon known as central sensitization. This would involve heightened sensitivity of the nervous system, where normal stimuli may be perceived as painful. And you… well, you seem quite stressed. Which is understandable, really.”

Perhaps looking at non-Vulcan meditation techniques wasn’t a bad idea. V’lana’s own species had several of them, but she hadn’t ever tried them with someone who wasn’t like her. It was a sort of harmony resonance Meditation, is a revered practice that utilized the inherent vibrational frequencies her homeworld to promote balance, healing, and spiritual alignment.

“We could try something else, but I would have to see what can be set up on the holodeck - It involves the deliberate manipulation of sound waves through specialized instruments and vocal techniques, so I am a little unsure if it would work.”, she pondered, and added with a smirk “And if it does anything positive to you, or leaves you with the need to strangle me because you hate it.”
92
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1857 hrs] Expectations
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Arboretum Cafe | D. 20 | V. 3 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] Attn: @joshs1000

Cross nodded. “I’m more of a 19th- and early 20th-century Terran love song fan. They were more coy with their innuendos, and the tunes were more,” he gave a half-shrug, “more lively in a different sort of way.” He scoffed at himself almost immediately, mentally applauding the intelligence of his sentences.

“They’ve got good sandwiches and soups, but if you want something really hard and hearty, the lounges are better for that,” Cross answered Lok’s question as the Kzinti looked through the menu, “I’m getting the cheesesteak sandwich and a tomato soup.”

Almost as soon as he finished, the server arrived, and Cross repeated himself, adding another mint julip for his drink, with Lok quickly adding in his order as well. Cross had to duck his head to hide the bemused smile Lok’s “pot of coffee” order elicited. In truth, it didn’t surprise the Vulcan. Lok was the second Kzinti he’d ever met, and both were large men who undoubtedly burned through a fuck ton of calories merely by breathing. Watching the server wander off to complete their order, Cross frowned in thought. Surely, they had Kzinti-sized portions and utensils and other such things. While Winters was a transfer, Lok had been on the ship for some time already, long enough for the captain to have ordered stock to accommodate the much larger crewmen.

“I’ll check on that later.” Cross grimaced when he realized he’d spoken aloud, quickly adding. “The portions and sizes of things. You’ve been a crewman for a while, and whatever accommodations were slated to be set in place before you went into stasis should be put back in place now.” He waved a hand. “And since Winters transferred in, all the more reason to do so.”

Lok’s comments regarding the Valkyries elicited a few nods from the Vulcan, who almost immediately thought of the specs of the various interceptors and shuttles onboard.

"You're part of a good team. If you need any more resources or support, let me know." A small smile began to tug at the corner of his lips. “I’m not sure if you have a ‘favorite’ weapons unit among the crafts you service, but I have to admit I have a thing for the mass-driver twin-mount turrets, the M142 RF on the Knight and Valkyries, and especially the M158 on the Reaver." He leaned back as the server brought their drinks. “Have you had much experience working with the Reaver yet?”
93
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 2115 hrs] After Hours Consultation
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Temporary Quarters | D. 11 | V. 2 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] Attn: @Relatively Insane

Semi-obstinate or not, Murphy was the cheeky sort Cross was happy to have on the team. Cross leaned into the corridor to watch Murphy’s departure for a few moments before smiling to himself and retreating into his quarters. She was the second person he could recall that day who’d indicated acceptance for the “colorful language” he tended towards. While he doubted Ives or any of the higher brass of the fleet would take as kindly to prolific use, Cross was at least mollified, knowing he wasn’t going to be put on report for language unbecoming an officer.

One more look through of the PADDs and Cross headed towards his bed only to be halted by an urgent message from security. No breaches of any kind and an assumed residual issue from the earlier warp core problems, but it still warranted an investigation. Switching out to a clean uniform, Cross left his quarters and headed to the turbolift, curious if he would get any sleep during his "off” time.

FIN
94
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1857 hrs] Expectations
Last post by joshs1000 -
[CPO Avandar Lok | Arboretum Cafe | Deck 20 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]

“Coffee, black, the biggest size they have”, he responds simply before making his way over to the sink.

Having fur complicated cleaning a lot more than a non-furred person would probably think. However, Lok was used to it as he gently scrubbed his fingers, the black grime dripping off and down the sink along with the now gray tinted suds of soap. What took the longest was usually his forearms where his fur gradually thickened and got longer. Finally he finished off by cleaning his razor sharp claws, he didn’t want to risk getting an infection if dirt got trapped under them while retracted. After a quick dry with a handy towel Lok made his way back over to where Commander Cross had found a seat.

Curiously a woman had taken a seat in Cross’s lap and seemed to be playing with his ears. As he got closer he could sense the man’s slight embarrassment which left Lok with a small smirk. The flirtatious woman then turned her momentary attention to Lok, the large feline noted that while outwardly she was certainly flirtatious and sensual, her emotions were well guarded. He gave a kind nod to her as she departed and took his seat across from Cross, having to turn sideways because his knees would not fit under the small cafe table. He glanced down at his coffee, I guess they thought I was joking when I said the biggest size they have. Trying his best not to look disappointed, he picked up the steaming cup, it looked like a dixie cup in his large mit, and took a sip.

The familiar pleasant bitter taste and near scalding heat filled him. He always enjoyed coffee, particularly the bitter taste. It was always odd to him that most other humanoids would waste their time trying to mask it with sugars, creams, and other flavors; and then there was iced coffee, why bother drinking it at that point, he always thought. His moment of ritualistic coffee bliss was interrupted by the flirty woman singing some sort of love ballad. The Commander mentioned he didn’t care much for them and while Lok didn’t particularly like the song sung currently, he was a romantic, not that he would ever admit it to somebody like Cross, at least not yet.

“Eh, they're ok sometimes I guess”, he responded, “not this one though.” His bat-like ears folded back in response to try and block out some of the noise. He took another “sip” of his coffee leaving very little left. I should have brought my damn cup with me.

He picked up the menu PADD and started to cycle through it. “So what’s good here”, he asked Cross without looking up. He was greeted by an assortment of pastries and sweet items that he had no interest in. Hoping that perhaps they at least had a sandwich or like a cheese platter with an assortment of cured meats, he pressed on. Finally on the last page there was a section labeled, “hot sandwiches”. When the server came back over to see if they wanted anything else, Lok first waited for Cross to ask for anything then gave his order.

“Yeah I’d like an entire pot of coffee to drink and three -no- four hot turkey sandwiches.” The server looked a little perplexed by the order but left to fill it anyway. Lok turned his attention back to Commander Cross, sitting quietly. He really wasn’t sure exactly what he should say, what do the department heads talk about anyway? The only thing he ever knew that the senior staff did on any ship when off duty was when he served aboard the Helios, apparently they got together in the captain’s quarters to watch old Earth films. Glancing at the stack of grimy Kzinti fingerprint covered PADDs next to Cross, he figured he might as well just default to work.

“So uh”, he started, “Valkyrie 5027, the one for that other Kzinti pilot, Atlas, it's ready to go.” He thought a moment more then added, “Oh, so we had a small coolant leak on Valkyrie 5022, I think it’s reported on one of those PADDs, not a big deal, just a bad seal on the regulator for the upline.”
95
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 2115 hrs] After Hours Consultation
Last post by Relatively Insane -
[ Ens. Murphy | Temporary Quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] Attn: @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]

Caitlyn smiled a bit at Cross' reply, feeling it'd be rather odd if she sent letters to her uncle that classified as "risqué." Though at least she had the means of writing home again, that alone served to brighten the rather grim situation she'd found herself in. Right, so I need to either make my way to Intelligence, or figure out where Madsen is... Or rather, who Madsen is. Probably wouldn't help my case to just barge in on them like I did with Cross tonight. Cringing internally, she made a mental note to check on those later.

Opening her mouth to respond, she hesitated a moment before shaking her head. "No sir, thank you. You've been an enormous help, and I'd hate to hold you up any further. Anything else, well, I can either handle it on my own or with one of the counselors." Getting to her feet, wincing slightly from the soreness in her back, Caitlyn offered Cross a smile. "Though if anything else does arise, I'll be sure to stay within working hours next time."

Cait turned, making her way to the door before stopping short, chewing her lower lip. "Erm, there is one more thing sir. Personally, I wouldn't worry about holding back some of the more.. colorful language. Sets you apart from the other langers." She shrugged, giving him a grin. "But what do I know, I'm just a 'semi-obstinate' Ensign. Have a goodnight sir, and thanks again." With that, she exited the compartment, massaging her shoulder before making her way back to her quarters for the night.
96
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Day 19 [2100hrs] - Soaking it All In.
Last post by Juzzie -
[Lt. Rhys Williams | USS Theurgy| Vector 1| Deck 6| The Baths] Attn: @Griff


The locker door slid open with a soft noise as Rhys stood before it. The noise was very quiet but in the otherwise empty locker room it seemed to boom out. Rhys jumped a little at the noise as he had only been half paying attention to what he was doing. A small smile spread over his lips as he chuckled at the silliness of being spooked by such a gentle noise.

He slowly began to remove his uniform and fold it away. The jacket came off first, followed by the undershirt. It revealed a lean muscular torso dusted lightly in placed with freckles.  He sat down on a bench and began to pull of his footwear, he hummed a little tune softly to himself. For a man whose thoughts could often run off with themselves in quite negative ways, it was a useful distraction technique. Keeping the wheels turning but giving them something else to focus on. Standing he removed his trousers and underwear. A small sheepish boyish part of him looked around to see no one else was there but the place was empty. On went a pair of sky-blue board shorts.

In typical Rhys fashion his discarded uniform was neatly folded. It took a couple of attempts till he was happy with exactly how the bend in the fabric was positioned. His boots were neatly placed on top and adjusted so the backs faced out of the locker.

He scooped a towel up over his arm, in his minds eye looking very waiter like. Which amused him in a small dorky way. Stepping into the baths he found a seat to stow his towel on before taking a step towards the edge of the Exercise Pool. He stretched his arms over his head, hearing a few slightly distressing cracks. He stretched his legs to; those were blessedly noiseless. He took a deep breath and dove into the exercise pool, hands pointed forward to pierce the tension of the water. He began and fast and aggressive front crawl, cutting through the water keenly. Rhys loved the water and he fully planned on tiring himself out by swimming hard then having a nice relaxing soak in the jacuzzi area. Stopping at one end for a moment his hair plastered to his head, and his arms shining with droplets. He felt more relaxed here than he ever did in the presence of people.

97
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Chapter 1: Outside Looking In [ Day 1 | 1345 ]
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Lt. JG Salem Martin | onboard the Apache | Romulan Space ] Attn: @BipSpoon  @Dree  @Stegro88  @Sqweloookle   @Number6  @Nesota Kynnovan  (just FYI for later: @RyeTanker  @Hans Applegate  @P.C. Haring)

Martin glanced at his peers remaining on the bridge, drawing a steady hand through his wavy locks. He didn't know if he was the lucky one or not in the next few hours considering he was going to be left under the "loving" care of the likes of Lieutenant Carson. The man seemed to barely stand himself, let alone any others. At least sh'Zhan was a competent officer who, while not effusively charming or affable, was more of a team player. Cobb was a bit of a mystery to Martin but as long as he wasn't as sardonic as Carson, they should come out just fine. Though Martin highly doubted Samala would take too kindly to any sort of scratch left on the Apache if the worst happened, and they had to adjust coordinates to bail them out at close quarters. Martin swallowed the sudden lump of apprehension. He doubted she would express her displeasure with mere words.

Twisting in his seat to study the backs of those making their way to the launch bay, Martin's lips pulled into a thin line. More than a few on the Blue team were not what he would call the "infiltrating" type, like asking an academic to take to a boxing ring. Thankfully, mixed in amongst there were those who had done prior infiltration missions and who would, hopefully, make up for any lack. In truth, he had more concern for Blue team than Red team, even though Red team was on more of a "give 'em hell" mission.

"Verifying locked position." Turning back to face the viewscreen, Martin double-checked all the consoles before leaning back in his chair with a pensive frown. Now he began to tenaciously wait.

Any last posts from folks who haven't done so? Would like to close this thread by the end of the week so we can focus primarily on the 2 teams and their chaos shenanigans. Cheers!
98
Alternate Universe Stories / Sprinkles on a Soup Sandwich
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ LCpl Hirek tr’Aimne | Bravo Base | Gila DN6 | Imperium Frontier Space ]ATTN: @Hans Applegate

Their small base in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere on an alien planet only the bureaucrats gave a shit about was a tiny oasis in a rugged and inhospitable wilderness. The sky overhead was a mesmerizing hue of deep purple, and the thick atmosphere carried a pungent scent that stung the nostrils. Like the explosive farts a grunt gave after eating too many MREs in the field.

The base was constructed of the toughest metal and concrete, with a few tents scattered around the periphery. A high fence, fortified with razor wire, encircled the entire compound, and towering watchtowers manned by heavily armed soldiers stood sentinel regularly. This was the backup in case their shield went FUBAR, and considering the size and number of the foe they often met in the field, it would do fuck all, and they were all dead at that point anyway.

The base's interior was a beehive of activity, with scientists in white lab coats darting about, analyzing samples of the planet's exotic flora and fauna for who gave a fuck reasons. Engineers worked industriously to maintain and repair the base's equipment, which was a stretch to state but at least they always looked busy. The soldiers patrolled the perimeter incessantly, their eyes trained on the horizon, scanning for any signs of danger. And there was plenty, and not all of it from outside either. There was always some imbecile looking for action of the wrong kind who needed putting down on the inside, and the fucking "Bugs" were always lurking on the outside.

At the core of the base was the command center, where the base commander and her team monitored the planet's activity and communicated with the fleet orbiting above. The walls of the command center were not walls at all, but interactive intricate maps and detailed charts, and a constant hum of activity filled the room. It was the most fortified position and the only part of the base with booster rockets strapped to its underside. If a FUBAR situation truly happened, then at the press of a button, the command center and higher-ups could get the fuck out of dodge while the rest were left as Bug fodder.

Despite the unrelenting vigilance, the base was not immune to the perils of this alien world. Bizarre and menacing creatures lurked in the shadows, the soldiers called the Bugs but the scientists had some other longer stupider name for them but no one gave a shit about it The weather could transform into a violent maelstrom without warning, and the rain was like an ex-girlfriend, sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter, and always with a subtle undertone of acid. Yet, those stationed there were trained to adapt and overcome any obstacle, and they remained forever watchful in their mission to explore and safeguard this "enigmatic new world" (i.e., they got paid well and had fucking awesome perks when on shore leave, so it seemed worth the suck).

Hirek stood half-naked in the middle of a circle of chanting soldiers, still rubbing the sleepies from his eyes. His bunkmate, the fluidic bastard Knox, had hauled his ass out of bed despite Hirek's best efforts to stay in it, and now the remains of his mattress were discarded somewhere behind him in the rapid, undesired evacuation of their bunkhouse. Chow time was not a luxurious affair by any means but a necessary affair nonetheless. A small group of button-pushers ancy for a fight had intercepted their trajectory to the mess hall. And a flock of violence groupies had quickly fallen in after the first squaring-off took place, one hulking asshat facing Knox and the other Hirek.

“You’re a dildo sheath,” the hulking man who desired to be Hirek's opponent spat a thick glob of goo on the ground near Hirek's feet.

Hirek lowered his arms, lips pulled back in a lazy smile. One of the suns was already halfway across the sky, with the second a quarter behind it. They had a good six hours more before their unit was expected to back out on patrol, which was probably why handsome as a cow's backside Dumbfuck had decided to pick a fight. Despite his size, his unit had been assigned only button-pushing tasks on this deployment. Hirek couldn't fault the man for wanting to pick a fight; he probably would, too, if the roles were reversed.

"I have to test it so your mom is fully satisfied." Hirek retorted.

Dumbfuck's face turned red with anger. He suddenly lunged at Hirek with a powerful roundhouse strike using his right arm. Hirek was quick to react and dodged the attack by sidestepping and ducking under Dumbfuck's arm. He then swiftly spun around, leaving Dumbfuck surprised at their sudden change of positions. Dumbfuck stopped in his tracks, looking at Hirek in amazement.

Now Hirek was closer to the mess halls, and he could easily walk away, more interested in having food than dealing with Dumbfuck's stupidity. However, Dumbfuck panicked and attacked Hirek again with the same move, swinging his right arm. Hirek likewise sidestepped and ducked, and they were back to where they'd started. But Dumbfuck was breathing a little heavier than Hirek.

"Aren't you tired of looking like a dumbfuck, Dumbfuck?" Hirek asked.

He came at Hirek again without hesitation. He attempted the same move as before. This time, however, Hirek responded by crashing his elbow into Dumbfuck's side as he spun under his arm. Dumbfuck bounced off Hirek's locked knees and immediately came back at him. Hirek dodged away again and felt a breeze as Dumbfuck's giant fist passed just an inch above his head.

"Knox," Hirek called over his shoulder to his bunkmate, "next time, let's just order in, okay?"

Hirek's felt looser now, like he was warming up whereas Dumbfuck stood across from him, panting heavily. It was clear to Hirek that Dumbfuck was a poor fighter, lacking in skill and finesse. While many assume that bigger guys are formidable fighters, their size can often impede them. More often than not, their intimidating presence is enough to prevent fights from even beginning, and when they do fight, they often rely on their bulk alone to win. As a result, they don't develop the skills or fitness required to be an agile and effective fighter.

Unlike a gym, the streets require an urgent, anxious, breathless, tight-throat, high-speed, high-adrenaline kind of fitness that can only be gained through experience. Hirek hadn't exactly grown up on the streets, but he'd certainly had to wrangle his way out of more than a few challenging situations on account of sexual misunderstandings (he hadn't known they were married, dating, etc.)

Hirek blew Dumbfuck a kiss.

Dumbfuck lunged at him like a pile driver. Hirek swiftly dodged to the left and hit him with an elbow to the face, but Dumbfuck countered with a left hook that knocked Hirek sideways as if he weighed nothing. Hirek went down on one knee but immediately got back up, just in time to avoid Dumfuck's next crazy lunge. Dumbfuck's fist missed Hirek's gut by a mere quarter-inch, and the wild momentum of the punch caused him to move past Hirek, lowering his head. Hirek took advantage of this and threw a left hook with all his might, connecting with Dumbfuck’s ear. Dumbfuck staggered back, and Hirek followed up with a massive right to his jaw. Hirek danced back and took a breather, assessing the damage he had inflicted.

No damage.

Hirek had hit Dumbfuck four times, and it was like he hadn’t hit him at all. The two elbows had been solid smashes, and the two punches had been as hard as anything Hirek had ever thrown. There was blood on Dumbfuck's upper lip from the second elbow, but there was absolutely nothing else wrong with him. Theoretically, Dumbfuck should have been unconscious. Or in a coma. It was probably sixty years since Hirek ever had to hit a guy more than four times. But Dumbfuck showed no pain. No concern. He wasn’t unconscious. He wasn’t in a coma. He was dancing around and smiling again. He was relaxed. Moving easy. Huge. Impregnable. There was no way to hurt him.

Hirek inwardly groaned as he realized his chances were slim to none. Dumfuck returned the look and understood exactly what was going through Hirek's mind. He grinned even wider, shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, hunched his shoulders low, and extended his hands like claws. Dumbfuck stamped his feet, first left, then right, left, right, as if he was pawing the ground, ready to attack and rip Hirek apart. The smile on his face turned into a frighteningly wide grin of satisfaction.

He came straight at Hirek, who dodged right. However, Dumbfuck was expecting this move and landed a powerful left hook in the center of Hirek's chest. The impact was so intense that it felt like being hit by a 400-pound weight-lifter moving at 6 miles an hour. Hirek's sternum seemed to crack, and he feared his heart would stop from the shock. Hirek's body was lifted off the ground by the impact and he landed on his back.

Hirek was then faced with a life-or-death decision. Though his body convulsed with pain, he chose to live and got back on his feet by rolling over and pushing himself up. He dodged a potentially fatal punch as he stood, jumping back and sideways. Although he knew he couldn't keep this up for much longer, Hirek hoped Knox was faring fucks better than he was.
99
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1435 hrs] When Trolls Dance, Vulcans Growl
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Sickbay | D. 21 | V. 3 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] Attn: @EnigmaTales

The trolls stopped dancing and seemed resigned to a steady-state march for a few seconds until, at long last, they disappeared entirely. Cross opened his eyes as he released the breath caught in his lungs.

“Much better. Thanks.”

Taking a moment to study the lieutenant before him, Cross put her words and the personnel files he’d had to memorize. A name meant shit when your head hurt, but now that his mind was clear, Cross felt like a twerpish child for all his complaining when he recalled the details of how the Elsarian had ended up in stasis. His woes were small in comparison.

“I must sound like a baby to you,” Cross snorted, shaking his head at his own expense. “You have to deal with ridiculous shit every day and got the short end of the gobshite stick smacking you into stasis some until V-Nine figured out a way to get you out again.” Cross ran his flesh hand over the back of his neck and sighed. “Fucking puzzles are child’s play in comparison.”

Closing his eyes, Cross went through his mental database of Vulcan meditation techniques his mentor had once hoped he’d readily adapt but which most he’d wholeheartedly rejected.

“Kithira is the building-blocks technique that always pissed me off more than it helped me. Tiltra was a little more like basic mindfulness meditation, only fixating on a number, and that didn’t bother me as much. As for the breathing and mindfulness, I can start doing that again when I’m in bed. I did it during the Academy when transitioning into having a social life was hard as fuck.” He blushed, remembering he no longer had a valid excuse to curse. “All the martial arts were helpful because they required movement and concentration. So the sword dueling d'Alik'tal, hand-to-hand ke-tarya, lirpa-based khy'lan, and the basics of sof'el'itju and suus mahna. I was only barely exposed to Vulcan neuro-pressure techniques but what little I experienced seemed to help at the time.” He shrugged. “Do you think non-Vulcan techniques might help too? Like what exactly is the issue in there?” He pointed to his head with a frown. “Is it something more physical activity will help, more mental activities, or a change in diet?”
100
Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: [2376] Entanglement of Chaos
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Atha Ono | Mobile Base Near Mador Base | Cardassia Prime ] Attn: @RyeTanker

Atha Ono, the self-proclaimed Bajoran patriot, listened and watched as the Orion “patriots” scrambled to their positions in the stealth mobile artillery unit they’d commandeered some time ago and converted into a movable base of operations. Despite their bulk, the men squeezed their hulking frames into positions tailor-made for Cardassians with little difficulty. Their leader, the goatee-sporting Jassarac, stood on the command dais just below Atha’s perch in one of the jumpseats close to the rear hatch. Atha did not take pride in allying himself with Jassarac, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Jassarac interrupted Atha’s brief foray into self-pitying resignation with a quick, “Bearing?”

“15 degrees.”

“Mark?” He rolled his massive shoulders, glancing up at Atha.

“202.”

Atha offered Jassarac a nod of acknowledgment, to which the Orion mercenary grunted before asking, “Range?”

“7000 meters.”

“Fire.” Jassarac braced himself on the dais's railing, while Atha relied on the straps holding him in place to counteract the lurching motion the entire unit made as it expelled an exploding round towards its target. A heartbeat passed before Jassarac called out,  “Report.”

“Round projected to go shallow.”

“Increase the angle and fire another round.” He smirked up at Atha. “Even if we don’t get a direct hit, with these rounds, the concussive force and incendiary shrapnel will be enough to get the point across.”

“Impacts in one minute.” One of the Orion mercenaries interjected.

Atha gave a breathy chuckle, “The Cardassian shit who tortured me in the camp shared some applicable wisdom.” Jassarac quirked his eyebrows upward, waiting with a wry smile already on his green face. “Lasting lessons must be learned the hard way.”

Jassarac’s mirthless laugh joined in with Atha’s chuckle as they both reflected on what their prior Caradassian associate’s face would look like once the rounds exploded in his face.

[Luske Ontatt | Secure Sub-levels of Mador Base | Cardassia Prime ]

“Sir, we have a problem,” Luske Ontatt looked up from the series of charts he’d been studying, frown already creasing his brow at the anxiety-ridden sound of his associate’s voice, “The upper levels near the decoy data noda room seemed to have been infiltrated. Reports are that it is Praar accompanied with some associates, including what look to be Starfleet personnel.”

Luske smiled, “That’s no problem, dear.” Leaning back in his chair, Luske waved a hand as if conducting an orchestra. “Release the paralytic gas on all levels. Our people are immune to it, but any unwelcome guests will not be.” Luske nodded to himself, replacing the pair of archaic-looking glasses on his nose, reading to return to his studies.

“Sir, we have another problem.”

“And that is?” He didn’t bother removing his glasses this time; he merely spoke over his shoulder.

“Sensors are picking up incoming fire.”

“Well, now,” Luske removed his glasses and stood. “That is a bit more of a problem. Has the gas already been released?” His associate gave a meek head nod. “Oh well, send teams to retrieve our ‘guests’ and pull them down to a safer level. They have answers to the mystery of who fired on us and why, and even if they don’t, they still need to answer for intruding without invitation.”
You can presume Enyd's support with knife, boost up, and in dragging the body inside.
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