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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EPI S: Two sides, same coin [Day 03 | 0930]

Last post by Ellen Fitz - April 25, 2026, 02:36:28 AM

[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Chief Diplomatic Officer's Office | Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @Dumedion

She lifted her head off his breastplate. Her eyes crossed. She held that state — staring at approximately nothing, two inches in front of her own nose — before her vision resolved itself back into Hauq's face with the reluctant cooperation of a system rebooting under protest. She blinked. Once. Twice. Gave her head a single careful shake the way a person does when they're testing whether everything is still attached.

Her fingers went to her eyebrow. She pulled her hand back and looked at it. A thin smear of red crossed two fingers. The giggle was immediate and completely without dignity.

"I went through an entire battle," she said, to no one in particular, staring at her own hand, "untouched. Not a scratch." She looked down at his breastplate — at the faint red mark her eyebrow had left on the ridged surface of his armor — and the giggle compounded into something that shook her shoulders. "I survived the battle and I bled on your chest plate." She pressed the back of her wrist against the cut, still laughing in the exhausted, helpless way that lives just on the other side of the threshold of what a person can reasonably absorb in a single day.

She pushed off him then, got a hand flat on the floor, and rolled onto her back beside the wreckage of the chair. And stayed there. The ceiling of her office looked back at her, neutral and unhelpful. She didn't move. Didn't attempt to manufacture any version of professional composure. The floor was where she was and the floor was where she would be for a moment because her body had simply filed a report and the report said: enough.

Then something dug into her hip. She frowned. Lifted her hips, reached underneath, and extracted two bloodstones from beneath her with the long-suffering expression of a woman who has accepted that the universe operates on its own terms entirely. She set them on her sternum without looking at them, lowered herself back down, and stared at the ceiling again.The stones rose and fell with her breathing.

"What do you do," she said, to the ceiling, her voice carrying the flat quality of genuine curiosity stripped of all social packaging, "to destress?" One second of silence. Then she kept going. "Not the blade-against-a-sparring-partner kind of destress. I mean the other kind." Her head turned to look at him, still flat on the floor, cheek resting on the carpet among the scattered bloodstones. "The bone-tired kind. Battle-weary. When you've used everything you have and the idea of lifting a weapon against anything, even someone you like hitting, sounds like being asked to run a second marathon immediately after finishing the first."

She looked at him. Actually looked at him — the sheer architectural fact of him, the particular solidity that suggested the words bone tired had perhaps never been required to apply — and something shifted in her expression into a kind of resigned self-awareness. She snorted.

"You've never felt that way in your life." She said it without accusation, simply as a reclassification of the data. Her eyes returned to the ceiling. "Alright. Different question." She lifted one of the two bloodstones off her sternum, held it up between her thumb and forefinger, studied the deep red of it catching the light. "What would you suggest. For someone in my position. Creature of chaos, currently horizontal on her own office floor, bleeding slightly, surrounded by Martok's generosity in its most literally scattered form." She set the stone back down on her sternum, watching it rise and fall. "What does a person like that do when the day is finally, mercifully over — assuming the day ever actually ends — to keep from simply dissolving into the carpet?"

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epilogue: Sit Rep After Hell [ Day 03 | 2130 ]

Last post by Ellen Fitz - April 25, 2026, 02:26:17 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Conference Lounge | V. 1 D. 1 | USS Theurgy ] @TWilkins @Pierce @RyeTanker @rae @chXinya @P.C. Haring @joshs1000 @Dumedion @Nesota Kynnovan @Eden @Brutus

Cross looked at Ravenholm when her name was called. She'd already been tracking the room through her VISOR since she sat down — he'd noted it the way he noted most things that were happening slightly ahead of where the conversation was. She knew the numbers before anyone said them. He didn't consider this an advantage or a disadvantage. It was a fact about Ravenholm.

"Operations is a mixed bag at best." Her head had been tilting toward whoever was speaking; now it was on him. "While most systems are functional at some level, thanks to the damage listed already, everything has been impacted in some way. We've got all able hands working as hard as they can on repairs but I agree with Commander Arnold's estimate of four days and echo his request that we approach the task force for assistance."

She moved on without pausing.

"All that said, all the basic necessities are available: water, gravity, environmental controls, and even the replicators, but everyone should be ready for random glitches at times. On my way here I gained and lost nearly 20 kilos it felt like, and saw someone try to replicate a raktajino only to be given a puddle of burnt bootblack."

Cross filed this under Arnold's problem and kept his expression where it was. He looked at Pierce. Pierce had come in running and had spent the first portion of the meeting catching up on what she'd missed, which Cross had observed and not remarked on because she was here, she was current, and the sprint was its own explanation. She had the contained energy of someone who had been furious at herself since she sat down and had decided that the most productive response was to be precisely useful for the remainder of the meeting.

"Intelligence department lost a number of key personnel. My deputy assistant among the lost crew members." She kept it flat. "I'm presently looking into officers who requested a transfer or at the very least are offering assistance to the department as we progress. So staffing isn't the strongest at present. I'll have an update within the next seventy-two hours after meeting the potential candidates. "As for the function of the department itself, we're presently extrapolating data sent to us, as well as received while we were out on Romulus. Despite our capture, we were able to bring aboard a lone Romulan-Orion hybrid who was on a personal mission and set to join the Science department." She didn't stop. "Regarding the Dewitt intelligence — Lieutenant Madsen's assessment is correct, and I want to underscore it. Commander Dewitt lost her life getting that information out. Before her ship became critically damaged she passed the full report to a Vulpinian pilot who had been acting as her escort, who then ferried it onward at considerable risk. The urgency of what Dewitt found has already been shared with members of the President's council for forwarding to the rest of Starfleet Intelligence. We are currently waiting on verification of several items in the report, but the corroboration Lieutenant Madsen received through Doctor Marlowe's private channel moves this from pending to credible." Her jaw tightened "Coordinated multi-faction alignment against a Federation they correctly read as fractured and distracted is not a future problem. It is the condition we are currently operating inside."

She pulled back to her broader concern without softening the transition.

"My concern with us regrouping and repairing — not to mention digging through piles of data and communications — is that despite the Infested being exposed publicly, they're likely still at large. We still don't know who we can trust or who is compromised, and that means we need to be vigilant in our search as we head back out there. My hopes are we'll hear from the Admiral with further news, but I doubt it will be that easy for him to reach out."

Cross let a half-second of silence hold after Pierce finished. The Infested still at large. The trust problem with no current solution. The Admiral's silence, which was either circumstantial or not, and there was no reliable way to determine which. And now Dewitt's report sitting in verification limbo while whatever it described continued to move. He looked at zh'Wann.

"First off, sir." Her fingers moved on her PADD. "I believe the entire crew did very well during the battle and as far as I can tell, everyone performed ably and with great courage. I have several reports from the Klingons who were quite impressed with the fight we put up. There were several notable mentions of the warrior's heart many exhibited, especially amongst those who are not necessarily what they would consider of the path of the Warrior. I have a list compiled of those that were mentioned and they'll be sitting in your inbox by this afternoon."

Cross nodded. He would read every name on that list.

"Security took quite the hit, but thanks to most of our people being in the new security exosuits, we got off far more lightly than previous engagements of this type." Her jaw tightened visibly. "I've got 29 dead and 68 wounded to varying degrees. Most of the wounded are walking wounded and can perform light duties. They can be expected to hold the line till the more fit can show up to deal with the situation. At the moment, there are 20 in sickbay with injuries varying from standard recovery to incapacitated. This includes Lieutenant zh'Ptrell who would have normally taken over my deputy spot."

zh'Wann's eyes moved briefly to Madsen. Cross's eyes moved briefly to Madsen. Cross's eyes returned to zh'Wann.

"I have Ensign Duboid holding down the slot for the moment. She's quite capable but inexperienced for the duties. The Chiefs are doing an admirable job of keeping things going at the moment, but we'll need a more experienced officer to make the calls when the time comes. There is another person who just arrived who can take the spot and I'd like to have the three of us meet together so the situation can be explained."

"The worst part from our standpoint is the damage to our complement of exosuits. Keeping those wounded from being killed took quite a bit out of our current operational inventory, which are all currently undergoing repairs as fast as we can, but we don't have that many armorers and the engineering staff is already over-stretched with the ship's repairs." She didn't pause. "If we're asking the task force for replacement parts, it would help save time and stamina if we could get new suits as well. This would help the armorers since they still have to replenish the stock of munitions we used in addition to doing the repairs to not just dead and injured suits, but practically all of them since everyone who wore a suit took a hit at some point."

The hologram went up. Two hundred and twenty-six prisoners. Cross looked at it for three seconds. Cargo holds on Deck 8, triple-quad bunks, sanitation, rotating forcefield access, Neurozine in the ventilation. Thirty-five officers and senior enlisted in the security centre under round-the-clock surveillance. Two hundred and twenty-six warm bodies on a ship running at half strength. He did not say this because zh'Wann already knew it.

"At the moment we have 226 prisoners. There would have been more, but the Klingons were very thorough when they helped us and stun isn't an option most of them use." She walked through the arrangements without elaborating on what she'd already outlined in the hologram. Then she looked directly at Madsen. "I'm hoping there is some sort of arrangement that will have the prisoners off the ship soon."

Her eyes came back to Cross.

"Overall, security has enough to maintain a presence, but we're going to be stretched for a while and we'll need to stand the troops down on a rotating basis as more people come back onto the job." Her jaw tightened once. "Sir, I would recommend that we be circumspect in whatever external forays we have to make, otherwise we seriously compromise security's ability to protect the ship and crew."

Cross held the silence for exactly long enough.

"Lieutenant Madsen." His voice was even. "Prisoner disposition falls to you. I want a proposal on my desk before 0800." No softening, no expansion. His eyes went back to zh'Wann. "The recommendation to limit external forays is noted and agreed. We don't go anywhere until we can cover the door. The request for new suits goes on the task force list alongside Arnold's components and Leux's personnel." His eyes moved to Arnold. "I'll need that consolidated list from you within the hour."

He looked down the table.

"Counseling."

Hathev did not move. She sat with her hands folded on the table, her posture the same as it had been since she arrived — correct, still, giving nothing away to anyone who wasn't paying the kind of attention Cross had been paying since she walked through the door.

"Counseling's primary function during the post-battle period has necessarily shifted from proactive support to crisis response." Her voice carried without effort. "Staff strength within the department is reduced. Three counselors are managing caseloads that would adequately require five. We are triaging." She did not say this as a complaint, though she had every right to complain. "Priority cases are being seen. Non-priority cases have been placed on a schedule. The schedule is not meeting the need. That gap will widen before it narrows."

"Lieutenant Leux's assessment regarding sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and psychological trauma aligns with what Counseling is observing at the individual level. I would add one detail the medical report does not capture: a significant number of crew members are currently functioning on deferred response. The acute phase of the crisis has passed. The psychological processing of what occurred has not yet begun for most. When it does begin — and it will — the caseload will increase substantially." Her eyes moved briefly around the table. "I would recommend that department heads be prepared for a secondary wave of personnel impact within the next two to four weeks, independent of physical recovery timelines. It would be inadvisable to mistake current functionality for resolution."

She looked at Cross. "Counseling's request is straightforward: additional personnel, and protected rest rotations for existing staff. We cannot assess the crew's fitness for duty if we are unfit ourselves." Her eyes held his for exactly one second longer than strictly necessary. "That applies to this department as it applies to all others."

"Noted," he said. "The personnel request goes on the task force list." He moved on. "Tactical."

T'Less had the sit rep in front of her and did not require it. Cross had seen her put it together — thorough, precise, organized in a way that indicated she had not simply compiled available data but had audited it for gaps before submitting it. She folded her hands on the table.

"Tactical systems are functional across all three vectors, though not uniformly." Her delivery was clean and without inflection, which suited the content. "Primary weapons arrays are operational. Torpedo inventory stands at sixty-three percent of pre-battle complement. Phaser emitter segments on Vector Two sustained damage consistent with the boarding incursion — three segments offline, two degraded. Repair estimates place full restoration at thirty-six to forty-eight hours under current engineering resource allocation." Her eyes moved up briefly. "I would note that estimate assumes no further demand on engineering resources. Based on the reports delivered this evening, that assumption may prove optimistic."

"Tactical sensors are intact on Vectors One and Three. Vector Two's lateral array has a calibration fault producing a four-degree offset in threat-assessment targeting data. The fault has been flagged and isolated. Tactical is compensating manually until the array can be recalibrated. This is workable but introduces a margin of error I would not consider acceptable under combat conditions. I would recommend that Vector Two not be designated primary tactical response if engagement becomes necessary before the array is corrected."

"Shields, as Commander Arnold noted, require hours of repair we have not yet had. I concur with his assessment that offensive engagement during this period is inadvisable. Tactical can respond to a threat. Tactical cannot currently absorb a sustained exchange without meaningful risk to hull integrity in the areas already compromised."

She set her PADD flat.

"Tactical personnel casualties are within the range reported by other departments — not light, not catastrophic. Stations are covered. I have junior officers performing duties above their current grade. They are performing them adequately." She did not add so far. She didn't need to. "I have submitted a full personnel assessment to your inbox. It requires a decision regarding two positions that cannot be filled from current complement." She looked at Cross. "That is all, Commander."

Cross held her gaze for one second. The sit rep she'd assembled had saved him two hours of work he had not had two hours to spend. He didn't say this.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." He looked at the table. "Any other reports before we open for questions, concerns, or anything that requires the room?"

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EPI S: The curious case of Humpty Dumpty [Day 03 | 2330 hrs]

Last post by Dumedion - April 22, 2026, 10:36:16 PM

While the Romulan spoke, Arven had already busied himself with another PaDD, updating the patient’s file for upload into the ship's archive. If he had any concerns for Hirek's social skills (or lack thereof), the Doctor’s expression didn’t show it; truth be told, he was only half listening anyway, but registered enough to get the jist.

Arven inhaled deep through his nose, then lifted his eyes from the PaDD in a moments consideration.

“Well,” he sighed the word out, brows bouncing with his shoulders, “when in doubt, just let the nurses do the talking. I try to avoid interaction with patients,” he admitted, then returned to typing on the PaDD, “mostly because they ask too many dumb questions.”

Whatever the Romulan’s reaction was to that was lost on the Doctor as he fired off a quick message to the Vulpinian, Ms. Feynri:

Meet me in Biolab 2 ASAP, preferably; if unable, then I require audible permission from you to disclose medical information to a non-Federation third party as well as written consent form 91b submitted within the next 24 hours. And no, I don’t know where that form is – only that it exists, and I need it to treat you sooner rather than later. Maybe, it read.

With that done, Leux deactivated the privacy screen around the biobed station just as the Romulan inquired about the case. Arven nodded, meeting his eyes briefly.

“Be happy to, soon as I attain the patient’s consent,” he gestured to the side with a hand. “Follow me for now. I’ll show you what I can while we wait for her,” he added, then set off for the lab.

Nurse Kitty was waiting directly in his path however, forcing him to halt with a flinch; she looked even more haggard than Arven felt.

“Stim dosage – increase or no, make a decision,” she demanded.

Arven sighed and rubbed his unshaven jaw. He’d dodged this issue for as long as he could; there was just too much to do and not enough people to do it – sleep had become a luxury, and would likely remain one for the next several days.

“Up the dose to eight hours, but keep the cycle the same,” he sighed out, “mandatory 24 hour come-down. Make that known,” he told her.

“FAB guys are asking for half that time,” Kitty reminded him.

“I don’t care. Its my call,” Leux deadpanned, then walked around her as she spun off towards main reception.

“That,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the retreating blonde, speaking over his shoulder to the Romulan, “is one of the lead nurses you’ll be wanting to talk to about helping. If you cant find them, just ask reception, or anyone around.”

It wasn’t a long walk to the lab. Arven spent the rest of it trying not to dwell on the potential consequences of authorizing even more stimmed-up crewmembers to work even longer shifts; it was a short-term solution, he knew it, Cross knew it. He only hoped it didn’t come back to bite them all.

As they entered the lab, Leux gestured to a chair then grabbed a rotating stool for himself, sliding it over to the multi-screened workstation before seating himself with a grunt. He wasted no time, fingers tapping away; the data on the screens – several anatomical scans, biochemical compounds, DNA sequences, neurological mapping and activity scans, and a plethora of on-going simulations – sequentially redacted all personal information. What little remained visible was utterly useless out of context, only to be revealed in full once the Vulpinian arrived and gave the go ahead.

The Doctor frowned at the prospect of ‘small talk’ while they waited, but was too tired to sit quiet; he’d probably fall sleep otherwise. And so, Arven spun to face the Romulan once he had finished, tired curiosity writ on his features.

“You didn’t seem to share my incredulous reaction back there,” he thumbed towards the ward, brows raised. “I thought Romulans were more animated than your Vulcan cousins,” he wondered aloud.

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi: S [Day 03 | 0145] By these wounds...

Last post by Krajin - April 22, 2026, 12:56:04 PM

[ Lt.Thane Va’rek ] | Corridor outside Cryobay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion @Eden

Thane laid on the makeshift stretcher as the doc peeled off the burnt sections of his uniform to get access to the burns to his body. At least what parts of the uniform that had survived the plasma exposure. The regenerator worked its magic in repairing the tissues along his face, and he looked far less like an impersonator of Two-Face. He stared up at the ceiling as the warmth of the heating packs got parked in his armpits and between his thighs. "Come on now... at least a drink before that eh?" He managed out between breaths as the cold began to fade. Fortunately, it was the cold that had kept him going and numbed the nerves near the burn sites that had survived the damage. As his body warmed up from the heat packs, his nerves began to fire off again. It was slow at first and began to build. At the very least, the administered painkillers kept him from feeling the worst of it.

Removing the melted and charred remains of the uniform showed the extent of the damage to his body. The plasma burns were significant on that side of his body. Aside from the cybernetic appendage the damage had spread across a portion of his torso. Getting less severe the further away from his arm. The burns were like watching fingers stretching across like a lightning strike.

His teeth stopped chattering now, and his breathing continued to even out. The wide pupils slowly shrank further and Thane began to look around. Though turning his head still hurt. "Both are good.. means I wasn't kidnapped in cryo. That would be weird though. Eh?" At least he could converse while riding the effects of whatever drugs they had injected him with.

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

Last post by RyeTanker - April 22, 2026, 06:54:16 AM

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

Zark stood behind Enyd and kept an apparent casual disinterest in the actions of the game itself. She wasn't there to watch money being won and lost. It was the people that interested her and at the moment, there were a lot of questions that were floating around in her head; all related to a non-descript bureaucrat that had managed to make his way into one of the swankiest places on the planet with little fuss. As far as her understanding of the bureaucracy went, he was supposed to be relatively high up, maybe in the top third or quarter of the structure, but it was still a middle manager sort of post. Mainly someone who generated the ideas that would get filtered upwards till a minister of some sort would make an ultimate decision from the options presented.

Their intel on him was pretty thin and almost stereotypically Cardassian, at least as far as the stereotypes went. Not ruthless enough for the Obsidian Order, but dedicated in duty that he did his job without fail. Didn't play the politics spectacularly well, but well enough to get to his present post. No known major vices or hints of major corruption; exchanging favours was one thing, but no known material transactions. So what was he doing inside this den of glittering shadiness and how was he supposed to be able to afford a seat at a table? Enyd whooped suddenly and this drew the Andorian's attention for a moment, then more than a moment as furiously suppressed the urge to ogle the pile of glittering metal that headed her friend's way. At least Ryzit had a PADD to hide behind as she pushed up her glasses and tapped several buttons as if the human winning was just a regular part of business. It was a good sized pile, and Zark had to pull her eyes away from it as she forced her brain back on the job and did a quick scan of the area seeing if she had drawn any additional attention. Her general impression was of several people looking over and many more looking away. It seems the excitement had cropped up was now past. A few stood out for taking a longer moment of interest and Zark duly glared back forcing many to turn away. Except for a trio of Nausicaans who thought the little slip of a woman was going to try to intimidate them and laughed out their derision. When she was done, her brow furrowed. There was no way for her to make absolutely sure of everyone she'd mentally challenged. Was there someone who'd taken note and looked away before she got her chance to challenge them? Was someone playing dumb? She let a slight frown add to the fierce visage she presented and hoped her attempt at intimidation was enough.

Then came the announcement of whatever was going to happen next as Enyd not so surreptitiously announced they were moving closing to their potential quarry. The Andorian didn't even try to protest and simply nodded as she scanned the route they were likely going to take to get to the target table. It looked about as normal as the situation required and she pulled the chair back to help Enyd get up.

Whatever was the signal for the next phase of Ryzit's plan, this was it. "I'm headed to the lavatory. I'll meet up with you later." The Shen announced as the trio threaded their way through the bustling throng of people and glammer. Zark looked over at her wife for just a moment and Ryzit didn't look directly back, mainly at the back if Enyd's brunette locks since the declaration was mainly for the 'boss.' She couldn't help but worry though since it was her wife after all and the Shen's lips pushed out and pursed for just a moment before she departed from the group. Zark took the air kiss for what it was and subtly wished she could have actually mashed her own lips against her wife's.

That could come later though and Zark followed Enyd to the table. A pair of heavily muscled Orion's looked the now pair over and Zark locked eyes with them for just a moment. Only the respectful challenge of professionals meeting each other, the way wary guard dogs would sniff each other out and silently test their opposite numbers in the presence of their masters. Their masters were safe, this was simply someone new. The Zhen resolved to stop worrying about her wife as she first held out the seat for Enyd, then settled into her position to guard her charge.

[Ashryzit "Ryzit" sh’Oshraalrat]

The Shen made a bee line for the bar and quickly ordered a shot of something strong and tossed in her mouth. She held her expression as the burn took hold, but she refused to swallow the fiery liquor as she made her way to a washroom. It was a mercifully short walk as she entered the washroom and found an unoccupied stall and quickly spat the drink out. Taking a steadying breath, Ryzit subtly smudged her lipstick just a bit then walked out to find a sink and mirror. Another moment was spent superficially tussling her snow white hair, then she went out to find the right bathroom. Getting into the back house area was always the major goal of any heist and she hoped this one would work. Looking around, she found what she wanted to find and began pressing a service button, repeatably, even impatiently. The Andorian Shen leaned over washroom counter as she mashed the button and looked at herself in the mirror as she psyched herself up.

She didn't have to wait too long as a professional service (maid) clad Cardassian woman hurried in. "Apologies ma'am, I got here as fast as I could...."

Ryzit whirled on the woman and jammed a finger at the hapless service woman. "You! Do you know how long I've been waiting??! How dare you keep me waiting in this broken down excuse for opulence!" Ryzit practically shrilled as she tottered theatrically. Ryzit moved forward and looped her arm around the wide neck and dragged her to a lavatory stall. "It's filthy! Disgustingly filthy! And the cleaning system hic! is a disgrace. I can get more results with toilet paper!" The Shen raged as she pulled on the flubbering service woman while Ryzit mentally apologized to the innocent worker.

The poor service worker looked in at the practically spotless lavatory unit with bug eyes trying to find the source of the tirade when she was pulled back and pushed in to the stall. Ryzit whirled the woman around and grabbed her head and planted a big wet kiss. "Sorry" The Shen apologized before smashing her fist into woman's chin. Another twirl brought the woman around and the Shen put the stunned Cardassian in a headlock and squeezed with her deceptively strong arms. The Cardassian woman couldn't even fight back if she even knew how, but she struggled feebly trying to pull the Andorian's arms off neck. The struggles became weaker and weaker as oxygen was deprived from the brain and eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, the service woman fell unconscious.

Taking a risk, Ryzit steadily loosened her chock hold and checked on her quarry. Yep, she's asleep. Good thing it was a woman. She thought to herself as she opened the unit to look outside to make sure she hadn't raised any curiosity with the commotion. Quicjkly closing and locking the door, the Andorian looked at the service woman and began undressing her. Underwear made good impromptu gags and ropes as she stuffed her mouth and bound her arms and ankles. Thankfully the woman was only slightly bigger than Ryzit was, so the uniform mostly fit. This is so stupid. Ryzit griped. I wonder if Zark could fit in this thing, definitely a nice little costume. Definitely have to open up the chest area though. She mused to herself as she quietly stepped out of the stall and found a mirror to check her appearance. A few more steps and a quick peek passed the door found what she was looking for, the service cart. Quickly dragging it in, the Shen stuffed in her clothes and a found a good spot to hide her PADD. Now she was all set. Except now she had to charm her way past and security. At least least getting in shouldn't be that hard as a quick search of the pockets revealed a security card. Ryzit tapped a few commands on her PADD, then laid the security card on top of it to begin overriding the necessary information like profile pictures and carefully planting a few worms into the security system.

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epilogue: Sit Rep After Hell [ Day 03 | 2130 ]

Last post by rae - April 22, 2026, 06:25:18 AM

[ Lt Cmdr. Jaru “Janus” Rel | Conference Room | Deck 1 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus @Ellen Fitz @Nolan @ob2lander961 @chXinya @Dumedion @Griff @Stegro88 @Eirual @RyeTanker @tongieboi @Pierce @Tae @Nesota Kynnovan @Hans Applegate @joshs1000 @P.C. Haring @Krajin @Eden @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

Ten minutes ago…

He’d been taking a nap under his valkyrie – totally planned if anyone asked, but truthfully he’d just fucking fallen asleep – when the computer alerted him of the impending staff meeting. Jerking awake and whacking his head on the hull did nothing to improve his mood, the impromptu snooze earning him one more ache and not the least bit of rest. Such was life. You were either dead or wishing you were.

Unlike other departments, Janus didn’t have much to do. His normal day to day job revolved around being battle ready, preparing extensively for yesterday’s action. But now… He’d sent his people to either sickbay or their racks, written a report, postponed the after action briefing until more pilots were out of sickbay… then he was stuck waiting for medical to release the pilots and the deck crew to fix the birds. Even a first year cadet could immediately see how totally screwed the wolves were.

As much as he’d hated his past bouts of regular mandated therapy, they had left Janus with a decent idea how downward spirals started – and having nothing to do in this moment was handing himself over to the pah-wraiths. So he’d spent most of the day offering his services to the understaffed deck crew. He wasn’t the greatest technician, but he had the basic repair skills that all pilots trained for in the event of crashes or in-flight damage. It gave him something to do while freeing the others to work on more specialized systems.

Unfortunately, sticking his head in the sand – or beneath a valkyrie – also meant that he’d lost track of the overarching repair status of his squadron. He’d meant to get that around 15 minutes ago. But fuck it, plan B. “Lok!” Janus shouted, letting his voice carry over the bay to wherever the big ferasan was. “Come give a status report at the senior staff meeting!”

He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, grabbing the PADD with his own report and heading out of the bay, debating whether or not he had time to go beg a stim off medical.

Now…

He supposed the good news was that Lok had heard the invite, though Janus had to bite back a laugh when the chief sat down at the table and went right back to work. No pretenses with that one.

Janus had never enjoyed big staff meetings. This one would be particularly grim, though he doubted it would top the routine-meeting-turned-accidentally-learning-Starfleet-command-had-been-compromised-by-a-race-of-parasitic-aliens that had kickstarted this whole shit show. As he’d entered the conference room, he realized he was the last man standing out of that original group (unless one counted Nicander, and Janus didn’t fucking count Nicander). Every chair in here had a different occupant than that original day. Most of them had switched hands more than once.

The realization alone made him want to turn around and leave. Duty took him to his seat instead.

He stayed awake through all the reports through pure force of will, then tacked on as Lok finished.

“There are eight ships ready in the bay, but we don’t have eight pilots to fly them.” Janus was sorely tempted to leave it at that. One sentence, dropped like a stone, summing up the entire problem. But he elaborated, because they would want specifics. “I have five active pilots who can launch anytime.” Himself included. “Two more uninjured - a valravn pilot who lost her RIO and an RIO who lost her pilot. I can throw them together if necessary, but teams normally need training runs to build a rapport.” Especially considering that Gemini had linked telepathically with Athen in flight, a bond she wouldn’t have with the replacement.

“Three injured. A Valravn team who will make a full recovery. Another pilot has extensive injuries that will keep him off the flight roster for months.” Janus purposely didn’t call attention to Archon, who was in the room, keeping his eyes on his PADD and leaving names out of it. He had to be losing his mind. Janus certainly would be. The only thing worse would be if everyone at the table turned to him with pity.

Instead, he kept the report dry and factual. Clinical. His tone would do a vulcan proud.

“Two in stasis. Nine dead.” He stopped for a moment there, their names on the tip of his tongue. Then he swallowed them.

“Once Dix is cleared by medical I’ll have seven pilots. Less than half a squadron. Not even two full flights. I can run patrols in pairs. Another one or two pilots on ready alert in the bay in case the patrol needs backup. Five minutes from red alert to wake up and scramble the rest. My people are the best of the best, but if we go up against other fighter squadrons like we did last night – at some point it becomes a numbers game.”

“If Starfleet likes us now, tell them I need nine pilots. They’re welcome to bring some shiny new fighters with them too.”

OOC: Remembered the RIOs for once and added them to my counts

Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 08 [0830 hrs.] Can you take me higher?

Last post by Pierce - April 21, 2026, 08:25:50 PM

Ensign Lauren Pierce | Holodeck 05 | Deck 21 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Nesota Kynnovan @Brutus [Show/Hide]

"I guess we really didn't need two Holodecks to use up power with. Especially with all that is going on to conserve it." She stated in realization.

Lauren nodded at Thea's interpretation of the situation and was quite surprised when Thea mentioned to Brownie that she might end up with additional work duties if she didn't at least down dress herself too. A smile broke her nervous face as she contemplated where this was going despite trying to do the maneuver once more with Thea present. Nevertheless, the duty uniform jacket despite keeping her arms and chest warm, were also giving her fabric burns on the nipples as she was lurching about. Decidedly, she stood up still in her panties and took the jacket off carefully placing it on the back of her chair.

Now fully exposed from the waist up, she stretched, jutting her enlarged chest outward as she sent her arms straight up into the air, and then behind her, and squeezing her breasts together by sending her arms out in the front of her. Finally fully stretched, she relaxed her arms and realized that both Jaya and Thea appeared to be staring at her rather intently. Were they focused on her chest, or her? She knew she had big knockers because most the Pierce's did and the other Martians for that matter.

"If you want to touch them, you can. I know they're large and people get pretty interested when the uniform comes off." She smirked. "If not, I'll just sit down again for another round of the maneuver." She giggled at the comment she sent towards the other two. Her body involuntarily shook do to being slightly cold and her breasts shook in front of her. She looked over her shoulder and just shrugged. "I guess I shouldn't be too embarrassed. This happened to me without my choosing on the Savi ship once. Never mind my good friend Tessa would have done this hours ago and then walked the corridors too."

Her thoughts wondered if Thea even could feel her chest if she had wanted. Pierce didn't know too much about the holographic AI since she'd only experienced the EMH Mark-1 onboard the Enterprise E and he looked slightly more...real? Maybe it was the was Thea was present she thought.

Lauren felt actually more comfortable with Jaya and Thea in the same holodeck as if the pressure fell off between the lack of uniform and the fact that she now had an audience to show off for. Afterall, it did seem to work in the past several missions.

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epilogue: Sit Rep After Hell [ Day 03 | 2130 ]

Last post by Pierce - April 20, 2026, 06:49:26 PM

Alana was running late, for multiple reasons, but she had to gather her reports. The dead, the comms, the mission. She had a lot on her plate at present. There was a lot of content she had to bring to the table, and hopefully, there wasn't much missed at this point.

Pierce hoped that her tardiness didn't piss off the command crew. After all, this was a rare occurrence. She ran through the corridors of the ship, arriving at the turbolift, riding it, and arriving on the proper floor. 10 deck travel thankfully goes faster than anticipated on a starship like this. Beginning her sprint again, she dashed towards the conference room, slightly winded in her high-speed jog with the PADD in hand, with her report.

The doors swished open, and she strode in quietly to the table, setting up shop. Her hands were dashing across the official report on her PADD and listening to the ongoing discussions. Trying to quickly catch up from the notes taken.

When she was thoroughly caught up, she took a deep breath and managed to get the data pulled back up to pass along to Lt. Cmdr. Cross so she could relay that information.

Still pissed in the back of her mind about how late she'd manage to be, she made a mental note to get up earlier if she had as much to tackle as she did to get to this point.

Alana had to force her breathing to steady, although her pulse still hammered from the sprint. The feeling of red warmed her skin as she felt slightly flushed. Too much going on, too much tension, or maybe just her own embarrassment radiating off her in droves.

She slid into her seat with a quiet nod toward Cross, hoping the gesture conveyed both apology and readiness.

Thankfully, the command crew barely spared her a second glance.

She tapped through the PADD again, double‑checking the casualty numbers, the comms breakdown, the mission timeline. Every line felt heavier than the last.

The department heads trading updates caused her to realized that they weren't in the best of shape as a whole and that somehow made her feel somewhat better about her own situation and her own department.

Still, in the back of her mind, the frustration simmered. She hated being late. Hated feeling like she was scrambling. Hated that she’d let the weight of everything like losses, logistics, her own leadership to slow her down even for a moment.

Next time, she promised herself, she’d be ahead of the curve. Better prep. No excuses.

For now, though, she focused on the voices around the table, absorbing every detail. The mission wasn’t waiting for her to feel better about herself. Now she just needed to focus and be present for the conversation at hand.

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi S: [Day 03 | 0800] Meeting of the Minds

Last post by Nesota Kynnovan - April 20, 2026, 02:18:35 PM

[Lieutenant Dr. Nathan Frost, Ph.D. | Deck 01 | Conference Lounge | USS Theurgy]
[Attn: @Brutus, @Pierce, @chXinya, @Eirual, @Ellen Fitz]

As the man spoke up, the husky tone of his voice sent a shiver down Frost’s spine. It once more confirmed his fears that Hirek might keel over on them at any given time and, deep down inside, Frost both respected Hirek that he showed up to this meeting, but also felt bad that he called for this meeting on the morning after the recent events. To hide his growing discomfort, the Canadian Immunologist reached out to his mug of coffee and took a quiet sip while listening to the Vulcan.

While he listened, Frost couldn’t help but to be impressed though. It seemed like Hirek was on the verge of an important breakthrough and the Acting Chief Science Officer knew that they would’ve made that breakthrough months ago if Admiral Anderson had asked for his help when this entire mess started. It was regrettable, and Frost knew that much suffering could have been prevented if he’d been there from the very beginning, but he nevertheless quietly commended the elderly Vulcan for his work thus far. With an equally quiet nod, he answered the man before speaking up. ”That is… a commendable achievement, Doctor tr’Aimne. When he spoke, there was a hint of respect in Frost’s otherwise somewhat arrogant, Canadian-accented voice. ”I will see to it that you’ll get what you need to continue your work. Rest assured, no doors will be barred for you with this important line of research.” Frost raised a hand. ”But first, I want you to report to Sickbay. We’ll continue your research after you’re cleared for active duty.” He ended it with a polite smile, a sign that he appreciated Hirek’s work thus far.

With that, Frost turned his attention to the last officer whom he hadn’t addressed yet; an Andorian Ensign. He nodded at the man as if silently prompting him to introduce himself.

Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 08 [0830 hrs.] Can you take me higher?

Last post by Nesota Kynnovan - April 20, 2026, 01:51:13 PM

[OOC: Ignore]