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1
Alternate Universe Stories / Re: Sprinkles on a Soup Sandwich
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lnc Cpl Hirk tr’Aimne | Bravo Base | Gila DN6 | Imperium Frontier Space ]ATTN: @Hans Applegate

Hirek, like Knox, had noticed the other six men carrying sniper rifles with the minimum grenade and other armament support. Sobel hadn’t even opened his mouth, and Hirek was already inwardly groaning at whatever the fuck the man was about to say.

With his usual poise and charisma, which was fucking nil, Sobel barked the orders at the group.

“About 50 klicks from here we’ve made initial contact with what we believe to be a sentient species, either native to this planet or visitors like us. Considering their base of operations is subterranean, we know only as much as our drones have allowed us to scan, which is fuck all because they have shields up preventing our scans. That being said, we’ve been ordered to make direct contact to ascertain their intentions and whether we can coordinate or coexist with one another on this damned planet.”

Madsen cleared her throat, briefly interrupting the lt, “Will you be with the snipers or with me, lieutenant?”

“You’re getting ahead of me, Madsen.”

“Sorry, Sobel,” Madsen didn’t look apologetic, and it was then that Hirek understood why she’d asked her question. She was hoping he wouldn’t be with her for fear that his charm and character would doom them all. “Please, carry on.”

Glaring at her as if she were a spec of shit on his boot, Sobel rolled his eyes before continuing. “We’ll ride the shuttle approximately forty-five klicks then go the rest of the way in on foot. Sniper teams will take up a camouflaged position directly in front and flanking the coordinates while the lieutenant and these two,” his lips quirked upward in a sinister grin, “will go in to make friends with the maybe friendlies. I’ll remain with the shuttle and shuttle pilot, coordinating the mission. If things go south, the code word is Tuscany. Any questions?”

As much as Hirek itched to ask a dumbass question, he kept his mouth shut. Glancing at Knox, he gave the man a half-shrug. They’d had nothing better to do anyway.
2
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH 2: S [Day 01 | 1700hrs] Cross on the Titan
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Lower Gymnasium | D. 14 | V. 2 | “Ranger” of USS Theurgy] ATTN: @Krajin

Cross chuckled, “Well, I’m not sure how familiar you are with Bajoran anatomy, but ridges are standard for the race and, yeah, like you said, I was just trying to go back to something I was used to while I worked to find my new norm. Even now, new symptoms crop up that fuck up my day. Headaches, namely, of late. But the doc has me on a new type of therapy, and this,” he waved to the space between them as they sparred, “helps, too.”

Winters made a quick move to get Cross into a headlock and partially succeeded as his mind had been half on the image of his own cock and half on the idea of getting a bigger one to satisfy a Caitian. With a shift of his hips, Cross got one thigh behind one of Winters’, a quick flick of his free hand tapped just above the genital area of the Kzin, letting the larger man know he knew of a way to get out of the hold but wouldn’t execute it thoroughly out of respect.

Soon enough, they were facing each other again, and the conversation continued. While an appreciator of flying and what it had to offer, Cross had never felt called to the concept of piloting. Not in the way tactical made sense. It was about then that Winters asked that very question: why tactical?

“Probably has something to do with my origins. No parents, just genetic donors. My entire existence is due to someone’s tactical schemes of engineering super soldiers. Instead of balking at pursuing a career in tactical because of those very origins, I embraced it. Planning ahead, staying ahead, pivoting when necessary, having a backup to the backup, remaining at peak function so regardless of circumstances, you can respond and not merely react…it just seems correct. It feels good to offer options when it seems like a no-option scenario. It’s also satisfying to be a part of the process of keeping everyone at their maximum for training and abilities while also keeping a keen eye out for any new tech or training that could lend a further edge. It isn’t about wanting a fight but knowing how to end one quickly if it is started and to end it in such a way that something can be built from the end.”
3
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

Lok’s subtle unease was not lost on the Vulcan, but he’d be damned if he could pinpoint what brought it on. So many factors were at play, from the topic of conversation to the music, food, etc., it could truly be anything. Whatever it was, the Kzin moved passed it easily enough and began speaking of engines once Cross shut the fuck long enough to allow him.

Cross listened intently, appreciating the man’s view on engines and how he broke it down for someone obviously not in the same field. While he’d never been keen on spending much time with engines, Cross had always respected them and those who worked with them. He knew how to pilot of course, though not every class of ship, and likewise knew the basics of how to fix certain things if they malfunctioned, but he was no renaissance man. His expertise was tactical and he relished that there were different departments that likewise excelled in their own areas, coming together to make a perfect team.

As Lok drew to a close, Cross approached the topic from a slightly different angle. But only after ordering a banana pudding and another drink.

“What about the engines from other races? The Cardassians? Klingons? Denobulans? Have you spent much time looking into their specs to do a comparison? I’m certain they’re similar to what you’ve just mentioned in that depending on their class and function, you can just make a general blanket statement of comparison. But with that said, have you noted anything interesting?”

The pudding came out faster than their meal had and Cross angled a smile at the Kzin before he tucked into the dessert, happy to have something sweet to munch on while getting more acquainted.
4
Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: [2376] Entanglement of Chaos
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Ens. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Safe House | Cardassia Prime ] ATTN: @RyeTanker

The journey through the wilds back to the safe house was mostly without event, aside from when Ontatt woke up and was promptly rendered unconscious again. Upon their arrival, the first order of business was ensuring the safe house was indeed still safe, then it was securing the prisoners, and then it was seeing to the wounded. It was during the latter that Enyd waited until she was relatively alone with Zark before she opened up.

“I don’t think this will please you any to hear this, but, technically, this isn’t the worst situation I’ve been through since coming to Cardassia.” Enyd grimaced as she hoisted herself onto the table, making it easier for the Cardassian medic to see her wounds once finished with Zark’s. “I had a phaser to the head about three weeks back, held by a corrupt Starfleet officer turned war profiteer. And about a week before that, I was buried alive alongside a Cardassian archeologist when we unearthed an antiquities smuggling ring.”

A breathy snort from the room’s entrance drew Enyd’s attention. It was Javec, leaning against the doorframe, looking as calm and unfluffed as ever. It should be illegal how comfortable he looked in nearly every situation.

“What little I know of Terran myths has brought me to the conclusion that in a past life, you were a cat, Ensign Madsen. You are rapidly spending all of your so-called lives in your efforts to solve Cardassian problems.” He strode forward and took up the unused med kit, starting to work on Enyd while the medic continued with Zark’s more extensive ones. “Now, why is that? Would you be so passionate about solving Ferengi or Bolian problems? Or do you have a special affinity for us Cardassians?”

Enyd sucked in her lower lip, chewing on it in thought. She could try to be evasive and let him continue to play this game. Or she could be blunt, even with witnesses, and potentially throw him off guard in doing so. Considering what they’d just lived through, Enyd opted for the latter.

“I have a strong work ethic instilled in me from my parents and grandmother, so yes, I would be just as tenacious for the Ferengi and Bolians. But I wouldn’t be as attracted to them as I am to you. That’s not to say I’m doing all this in the hopes of getting into your bed or your affections but working alongside someone I respect and find attractive is indeed a perk.” She maintained eye contact a moment longer before glancing at Zark. “And having a badass friend to keep me alive despite myself is also a perk. Even if said friend is likely to punish me later for getting her into this mess.”
5
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Pirate vessel qu'DuHSum | BIQ'a'bIng Ocean | Unnamed Island | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Although he’d been trained in the basics of engineering and could fly a shuttle, Cross found himself scowling at the inner workings of this Klingon pirate vessel. It was far from intuitive and offered more than a few levers and buttons to throw and pull, though in what order he’d be damned if he knew. Turning away from the engine itself, Cross eyed the various sails and ropes attached, and deduced how they worked far more rapidly than the contraption they considered an engine.

There was a wheel for hoisting the anchor nearby, which he did, thankful that the button attached to the wheel was for an automatic retraction. Next, while Hathev did a fantastic job of holding off the ruffians, Cross darted along the deck, readjusting the sails and poles to catch the breeze that was steadily leading away from the island. Moving by sail alone would not be enough to get them out of the range of fire, but it would buy them some more time while he figured out the engine.

The sails fluttered, whipped, then unfurled with a snap, the whole ship lurching as the breeze caught it. Cross’ lips pulled back in a smirk as he moved back toward the engine. Suddenly, however, his steps faltered, and his vision grew blurry. Reaching up to touch the arm liquid coming down his face, Cross frowned when he spotted the green of his own blood. Wavering gaze traveling along the deck, Cross reached out for Hathev before crashing to the deck unconscious.

Captain Ruz Bollix spat on the Vulcan at his feet. Now it was the bitch’s turn to feel the brunt of his war hammer. Although he’d been the only one geared up for a site-to-site transport back to the ship, he doubted the female would prove to troublesome, and soon enough, they could benefit from this almost fuck up.
6
Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: An Assassin in Agra Fort
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Holodeck 02 | Deck 08 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Dree @RyeTanker @anyone interested (officially an open thread)

His eyes narrowed as Cross observed the sultan’s daughter. If he were a betting man, which he wasn’t typically, Cross would put latinum bars that the assassin was a woman. And if it wasn’t one assassin but a pair working in tandem, with one serving as backup in case the other failed, he again wouldn’t be surprised if both were female. From his training, Cross knew that women tended to be the better spies and assassins, culture-dependent, of course, because they were more often overlooked and underestimated.

The new arrival of both the Andorian Zhen and the human “emir” intrigued Cross even more. Though the program had outlined the main plot as assassinating the sultan, perhaps there was a subplot for rulership overthrow? The presence of another ruler of sorts, this one with beautiful horses to boot, was indeed something to keep an eye on.

“Guard, fetch the stablehands before the horses ruin our floor.”

Cross set aside the empty tray he’d been holding up for the sultan and bowed solemnly. At least he wasn’t considered a eunuch in this program. As much as he loathed leaving the sultan alone, he signaled two of his most trusted men to step in closer, standing on either side of the sultan’s dais, well-oiled, muscular arms crisscrossed over their chests.

It was treacherous going, weaving between the courtesans and the sultan's entourage all perched along the steps leading to his opulent dais. Cross was almost to the main floor when his left got caught in the sash of one of the more portly viziers. No longer in complete control of his center of gravity, Cross pitched forward, hands already outward to brace against the closest thing that seemed remotely sturdy.

Pert, rounded bosoms of blue quickly filled his hands as the Andorian woman passed in front of him. There was nothing for it. Cross only had a moment to blink in surprise and start to mutter an apology before the rest of his body weight pressed them both toward the floor.
7
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO: S [D01 | 1130] Back to reality
Last post by Dumedion -
[LT Arven Leux | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Galaxymind @rae @Relatively Insane
[Show/Hide]
Violet eyes narrowed with a frown at both of them; given how the morning had turned out thus far, Arven couldn’t help but be skeptical. The entire affair reminded him of a poorly written holo-drama episode – the kind where the protagonist is caught in some ludicrous, paranoia induced alternate reality. That might be a stretch. Sort yourself out, Arven grunted quietly, then introduced himself as Doctor Leux to the other redhead, who apparently was a new colleague. Wonderful.

“And I wasn’t badgering – I was scolding,” Leux corrected dryly, then shrugged after his eyes skimmed over Pax’ file. “You can do that when your patients are awake. It’s a whole thing we deal with outside of surgery,” he added sarcastically while he read, absorbing what details of her career he deemed prudent. Joined Trill, yadda yadda, USS Lawson, yadda yadda, Starbase 226, yadda yadda…Battle of Cardassia…yadda yadda...joining complications due to former host trauma, yadda yadda...he blinked as he read quickly. Here we go – critical, near fatal injuries sustained during escape from Sol. Vi-Nine had brought her back out of stasis barely 48 hours ago, which earned her a shake of Arven’s head; his instinct told him to kick her out right then and there, but the way Pax carried herself and the given fact that she was already working when she should be resting negated the impulse. Brilliant, another ginger workaholic-schizophrenic, he thought dismissively. Well, we'll see how that goes. He left the file open for later, curious to study her case files in detail. It was always good practice to know the strengths and weaknesses of one's team mates, after all, but now was hardly the time for such things.

There was Azrin to deal with – which was a far larger issue.

Arven looked up from the PADD as Pax offered the patient some water, a dark brow arched skeptically. He knew the standard post-treatment procedure included enough 2 bags of IV hydration, and could only assume Pax did as well, but shrugged and watched the exchange anyway; last time he’d seen the sleep-deprived engineer, Azrin certainly appeared dehydrated, among other things – probably due to the extremely excessive consumption of coffee. She probably doesn’t even remember what water tastes like, Arven snorted quietly, then blinked the mental image of Ryn out of his head. Despite his concern for her well-being, the engineer was also clearly deranged and the source of considerable aggravation; a problem he needed to deal with quickly before it impacted the rest of the day’s schedule more than it already had.

“Yes, yes, this is all quite amusing, Ryn,” Leux sighed at the two of them, “but I don’t have time for your delusions -”

A beep from Pax’ PADD interrupted, earning a scowl. Arven blinked in confusion. “Bollocks,” he swore under his breath, then immediately rolled his eyes as Azrin’s high-pitched, energetic tirade began. There was no mistaking that voice, nor the background noise and ruckus – it was clearly Ryn, blabbering on from somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Arven shook his head as the engineer actually started to emulate the sound of some component he’d never heard of. For several long seconds, an awkward silence reigned, then the ward was filled with the droning hum of what sounded to him like every other warp core he’d ever heard. “Yes, that’s very fascinating. Do you mind,” he gestured to Pax to turn it off.

Azrin Ryn – worst patient ever, Arven noted to himself as he called up and glanced at her vitals again. At least she managed to stay conscious thus far.

In the awkwardness that followed, Azrin’s clone – Murphy, her name is Murphy – piped up with the typical post-stasis inquiries, which earned her a quick frown followed by a composed sigh from Arven.

“Well, technically,” the doctor shrugged, “we’re all inside Thea,” he gestured with a twirl of his fingers. “I’m Doctor Leux, this is,” he nodded to Verena, “Doctor Pax, you’re Murphy, allegedly - everyone tracking so far? Great,” Leux cleared his throat. Lacking the specifics on her chart, he could only assume the young ensign had shared a similar fate with all those placed into cryostasis, but lacked specifics, and told her as much; but he shot a skeptical look at Pax regardless. “Of course, there’s still the possibility of the old transporter-mishap-resulting-in-a-clone thing – it’s been documented, you know.”

"She's the one with the chart, ask her," Arven snorted in amusement at his own cynicism, then returned his attention to the patient as he procured a tricorder and began waving it over her body. "Hm. Look's like you got yourself a new spine," he commented casually, then arched a brow at Pax. "Your handiwork, or Vi-Nine's?"

OOC: really, really sorry for the delay.
8
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Chapter 1: The (hopefully) Great Romulan Smash and Grab [Day 1 | 1800hrs ]
Last post by Sqweloookle -
[ Lieutenant JG Adam Kingston | Between the Apache and the Romulan Space Station | Romulan Space ] attn: @Ellen Fitz @Stegro88  Apologies for the delay, Tafe has been rough with assessment due dates. Sorry for holding this up.

Along with the rest of the Red team, Adam was on his way to the Romulan Research and Development Station but through the vacuum of space in an environmental suit. All his equipment magnetically attached to his suit in some way or another.

He watched as the other took advantage of the small asteroids to mask their approach, he grabbed one that was just the size of two humanoids holding hands while stretched out to arms length and quickly grabbed onto it. It was already on course towards the station so it was good, though he tried not to do anything that could alter its trajectory but was prepared to use his thrusters just in case and softly.

The sense of paranoia of the Romulan's sensors detecting them floated around Adam's thoughts as he watched the HUD display inside his helmet. It showed the other Red team members in the passive scan radius. He was concerned when he saw Kennedy and Patterson go out of control but one saved the other at the last moment.

Adam sighed in relief and waited for when he was to get close enough that he could let go of the asteroid to drift over to the Station's hull. After that the task was to find an airlock or some other way in. It was a pity that they couldn't communicate as that would reveal their approach and positions, maybe they could look into some gizmo to equip onto their suits to cause interference so they could communicate using the interference as a medium.

Some time later…

Adam was drifting towards the Station hull after releasing the asteroid he rode in with, he checked the others to see if all had made contact as well. He appeared to be the last one to arrive. His suit's magnetic boots automatically stuck to the hull and he sighed again because he was glad the space flight was over.

He made his way to where the Red team seemed to be clustering to and he wondered about just how they were to breach the Station.
9
Director's Cut / Re: (2381) USS Theurgy: Got My Mind Set on You
Last post by Juzzie -
[Lt. Rhys Williams | Counseling Offices | Deck 13 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @joshs1000

Rhys’ mind was always a whirl of activity. It was one of the reasons he sometimes had trouble sleeping and had to tire himself out. Normally this involved, runs, swimming or maybe an intellectual exercise of some kind. Had Rhys known that Lok had some empathic he might have been more nervous. Empathy and Telepathy had always made him uncomfortable as Rhys had no confidence that his own thoughts would show him in a good light.

Within Rhys’ head there was a sense of attraction, curiosity and sympathy directed at Lok. Rhys’ emotions were as subtle as a fireworks display, but his face remained politely impassive. He felt a little sorry for Lok, everything in his office seemed a bit small for him. However he was happy the Kziniti felt comfortable enough to dispose of the pillows. He was also comfortable enough to want to be on first name terms. This delighted Rhys. He always made the suggestion to patients but some felt uncomfortable and liked to hold on the levers of formality as a security blanket.

Rhys noted that Lok had a very appealing smile. His body language indicated to Rhys some form of placating behaviour, which made sense if Lok was at all apprehensive about how his size and species would be viewed by others.

Rhys had been about to just order black coffee when Lok made his suggestion. Rhys nodded “Ah of course apologies.” As was typical of the young Welshman he apologised as if he himself had designed the replicator to automatically provide human sized containers. There faint embarrassment that it hadn’t occurred Lok’s requirement had to be pointed out to him.

He replicated a black Coffee and ordered a cup of tea. He took the Lok’s coffee over to him holding it in both hands for fear of spilling the large cup, before taking his own drink before taking a seat near the Kzinti. He listened politely his curiosity being peaked by his patient’s words. Rhys fidgeted a little while listening, not out of boredom. There was instead a nervous energy to him, an eagerness to help maybe an over eagerness.

Rhys took a moment to think about what had been said. He was clearly supressing the desire to immediately begin talking but was just about restraining himself. Letting himself think about what hew as saying before he said it. He was aware of a number of conditions and issues that came with coming out of a long period of cryosleep. However, it was important not to jump to any conclusions on that score. “It can be unhealthy.” He said finally. “But what is normal for others and what is normal for you may not be the same.” He sipped his tea thoughtfully all the while feeling a little sorry for Lok and resisting the compulsion to give him a hug.

“Do you feel being in Cryo for so long has affected you and if so how?” It was important to establish immediately that what mattered was not what other people felt was healthy and normal but what Lok felt was healthy and normal.
10
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 15 [1727 hrs] An Rousing Experience of Klingon Culinary Confusion
Last post by Dumedion -
[Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Last Blast of the Night | D'Takka | Qo'noS] Attn: @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker @rae @Eirual @Juzzie @ob2lander961
[Show/Hide]
There was so much going on, Talia couldn’t even process half of what had happened. Given her inebriated state, everything had blurred together into a wobbled, half-lucid mess of nearly indescribable chaos; and that was just from the crash – but true to form, the night just kept getting more out of hand. One second she was on her feet, blinking in confused scrutiny at the drunken Cardassian, wondering where the hell he came from but also trying to remember why he looked so familiar, the next second, they were getting shot at and everyone started yelling; well, mostly just Zark.

It clicked as he stumbled past her towards the bar, leaving Shadow even more dazed. He can’t be Janus. He’s supposed to be dead – right? “Hey, you’re s’posed to be de-,” Talia had slurred after the uncanny lookalike of the deceased SCO, only to be interrupted by both him and Rhys. The former attempted to make a joke out of the fact that he’d trashed the skiff into utter ruination – not that it was much to begin with – while the former tried to restrain her only to trip over himself. She spared Hotlips a glance and a chuckle, about to ask if he was alright, when Zark decided to sally forth in a topless charge into danger. Welp, there she goes, Shadow snorted, then looked back over her shoulder for the others. “Fuck sakes, they’re never gonna let us back on this planet – where’s Mia? Dixie?”

The damn skiff was half-filled with foam, sparks flew from everywhere, while the rest of the passengers made their quick exits out into the melee or tried to escape. Well, the ones with sense did anyway. Talia wafted the bubble-foam away as the mayhem continued. She discovered Mia, passed out atop Dixiebee, both unconscious but seemed unhurt. The blonde was using the volatile pilot’s butt cheek as a pillow – which was hilarious enough to warrant it’s own holoimage, (if only Talia had the time or means to take one). Pretty-eyes had found himself a weapon, and Talia flashed the Romulan a drunken grin before her own eyes settled on the disruptor lodged under Via. “Hey imma jus’ borrow this real quick – you jus’ stay asleep – good Via,” Shadow grunted while she pulled the weapon free. “Thing better work,” she snorted, then crouched as a few shots pinged around through the broken veiwports from outside the skiff.

One of the Klingons had made it past Zark somehow, and barged into the skiff at Rhys. Talia lifted the disruptor and squeezed the trigger but nothing happened. “Fuckin figures,” she swore, then flung it at his face like a tomahawk – just as someone shot him through the chest – Talia wasn’t sure who. Unfortunately, her aim wasn’t anywhere near as good. The pistol bounced harmlessly off the Klingon’s shoulder as he fell, only to rebound into the back of the councilor’s head. Talia rushed to him as he keeled over with a grimace – while more angry shouts and disruptor fire came from outside. Talia cursed as she slurred an apology to Rhys, then grabbed the wounded Klingon’s pistol by the door to cover Zark (or try to). By the time she got there though, there were a lot more Klingons beaming in, as well as shuttles overhead, sweeping the scene with bright floodlights. They were fighting each other now that the Andorian had done what she did best. Talia started to laugh with relief at the sight of Kali, even though the buxom blue medico was retching her guts out, but blasted the Klingon trying to sneak up on the Andorian first. It was a lucky hit – the pilot had aimed at his head but winged him in the shoulder instead – but that hardly mattered. There wasn’t much time to relax though; a blur of blue and white tackled Talia before she could do much of anything. 

The topless Andorian threw herself on the pilot, literally, and both crashed back into the skiff with a grunt. Talia spent the next few seconds trying to get Zark to stop – head and neck craned away from the wet, vomit coated kisses – but it was all in vain. The first dry heave between grunted protests was all it took. As an absurdly bright, shiny pair of boots stepped into her view, Talia threw up all over them in a spray of red-tinted foulness, compliments of...well, whatever the hell she'd been drinking with Via.

A commanding, throaty voice barked above her. She didn’t understand the words, but he didn’t sound happy or impressed at all. Talia wasn’t in the right state of mind to care, anyway. It was easy to ignore after everything that had just happened. Her head wouldn’t stop spinning, and it was so hard to keep her eyes open. But something was munching, though, so loud that it didn’t make sense; not that much of what had happened so far that night had made much sense.

Incredibly, there was what appeared to be a rabbit, of all things – it sat in the mess of her hair, casually nibbling on a string of seaweed right by her face. Talia grimaced at it scornfully, then looked down as Zark rolled off her. The right sleeve of her top was missing, somehow – and the damn thing was tugging on the rest, trying to eat it.

“Hey - shtop eatin’ my clothes, bunny,” she growled, just before everything got really bright.

The last thing she saw as the glow faded was the floor and walls of the transporter pad, surrounded by the grunts and groans of everyone, with a warm presence sat upon her chest; Talia blinked at the bunny, then it scampered off in a blur of motion with a trail of seaweed and vanished into a maintenance hatch.

[Some time later…]

Talia woke to the sound of voices; hushed, but firm – spoken like knives across silk in a threatening growl. One was male; a throaty landslide of shale, the other female. A dark eye cracked open to reveal the recovery ward, which the pilot recognized with a muted groan. She blinked with a grimace, only to find the slender form of LT. Madsen – Moody – held close to a hulking, scarred brute of a Klingon. He was glowering down at her, his face set in a mask of absolute seriousness.

“...your ‘culture tour’ was beyond catastrophic. My men are still down there cleaning up the mess. If the Chancellor didn’t vouch for you and your crew you’d all be in chains – as it is, the situation has been left for me to deal with. I tell you this, personally, so you understand it fully: you and your people will not sully the soil of my world again. Is that clear?”

Lt. Madsen stood to her greatest height, which wasn't very significant, and bellied up to the Klingon without the slightest flinch before replying, "Perhaps you should investigate the tour agencies who have sought our patronage instead of lobbing such accusations of a mess at our feet. We followed the itinerary given to us by a Klingon tour agency and any mess that was created was created as a result of Klingon interference." She tipped her head back to do her best glare as she added, "We will sully your world, your markets, your taverns, perhaps even your beds, for as long as we are needed by YOUR government to support the alliance against a far greater threat than mere barroom brawls. Perhaps we should both remember the greater threat when dealing with one another."

Talia’s eyes widened as she propped herself up on her elbows, blinking at the display. Damn, Moody, the pilot grinned to herself.

The Klingon, a high ranking official by the look of the numerous insignia that adorned his form-fitting, armored attire, loosed a throaty growl in reply, then met her bark-for-bark. “There will come a day when my admiration for your passion ends along with that threat – do not seek to test me, woman. The wretch, Djuunya, and the Mo’Kai filth she allied with to orchestrate the entire sad affair have been dealt with. Your suggestion is an insult to my honor and duty to the Empire,” he sneered. “Remember that, with my warrior’s oath,” he released one shoulder to beat his fist against his bared chest.

Lt. Madsen barely missed a beat, "Your duty to the Empire exists only so long as your Empire exists and your Empire exists and has a higher chance of existing for longer than the morrow from our alliance. We are both in need of alliances and collaboration at the moment. We can schedule a time to be surly and cantankerous for after the greater threat is eliminated." Daring a bite, Madsen reached out and patted the Klingon's chest. "As my grandmother always said you don't have to like your partner but you certainly have to watch their back in a fight. We don't expect parades and sweets, Colonel, and for all our cultural differences, we do appreciate the efforts made to make do with our 'shenanigans' born of misunderstanding. But it is a two way street. While we will endeavor to better equip our people with cultural awareness, we cannot promise that trouble won't find them. They are all walking targets and in that, thank you for your strength and expediency in bringing things to an effective end. I do not criticize your work nor your men, in fact I respect you immensely. However, the constant threats are most tiresome. Unless you're seeking to irritate me into coupling with you, perhaps we should engage in a more measured manner?"

Lt Madsen lowered her hand and offered a polite smile that betrayed no other emotion than the official demeanor suiting her position.

Talia shook her head in amazement while the Klingon, whoever he was, offered no words in reply. He simply stared at Madsen mutely for a few seconds, then grunted a subdued bark of laughter. “You honor her, as it should be. Very well, Lieutenant,” he released her, head held high, yet his face twitched in an unknowable expression as he nodded curtly. “You...will be sent any pertinent intel we extract from the apprehended,” he growled hesitantly, like he wanted to say something else or something more but decided at the last minute not to. “Either way, this affair ended in a few less rebels for the Chancellor to deal with,” he muttered, almost to himself, then grunted again as he turned to leave.

Talia released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as the doors slid closed behind him.

“Damn that was badass,” the pilot laughed, then grimaced at the throbbing in her head while she looked around for the others; who were all in various stages of recovery. Her eyes widened suddenly as they snapped back to Madsen's. "Shit, wait – what happened to the rabbit?”

~FIN~

OOC: Thanks to @Ellen Fitz for Madsen's parts in this finale, and being the Undisputed Champion of Chaos that she is; to all the other writers in this thread of insanity - it's been a lot of fun - your all amazing. Good times, indeed :)
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