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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO S [ Day 1 | 1200hrs ] ALL ABOARD the Crazy Train!
Last post by TWilkins -
[ Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | The Conference Lounge | D.8 | V.2 | USS Theurgy] @Ellen Fitz

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m getting the impression that this is a bit of an ‘out of the replicator and into the warp core’, kind of situation.”
Main OOC Board / Re: Main OOC Thread
Last post by Krajin -
Just a heads up with people. From the 24th of June, I will be heading to Army basic training for 12 weeks. As such I will be gone from posting for that time. I will be back! No matter what, I will be back!
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 4 S [ Day 01 | 1915 ] The Remains of a Crew
Last post by Dree -
Ensign Sash Kreshkova | Unnamed Cell | Alternative Asteroid Station | Romulan Space | Attention @Ellen Fitz

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

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

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

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

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

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

Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Chapter 1: Triggered Much? [ Day 1 | 1800hrs ]
Last post by Number6 -
[Lt. Vanya | Corridor| Romulan Space Station | Romulan Space ] Attn: @Stegro88  @Nesota Kynnovan ynnovan @Ellen Fitz @RyeTanker  @P.C. Haring @Hans Applegate  @BipSpoon

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

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

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

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

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

She wondered how long it would take.   Her face may even be programmed into a list of Romulan defectors, but hopefully as a target, she would have more intrigue and they would come for her first.  
Main OOC Board / Re: Main OOC Thread
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
Just a heads up (though it is weeks away at this point), I'll be traveling to the States to see family for the bulk majority of July. I have to take my computer with me for work purposes in between the family shenanigans, so I may or may not be able to keep up with threads, but understand posting will not be a priority for the three-ish weeks I'll be home. I only see family about once a year, if we're lucky, so we try to cram as much adventure time together as possible. Thank you in advance for your understanding and patience and as @Dumedion mentioned earlier, if necessary, please send me a DM for permission to NPC any of my characters for the sake of moving threads along.

Cheers y'all!
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 4 S [ Day 01 | 1915 ] The Remains of a Crew
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Ehfva Feynri | Unnamed Cell | Alternative Asteroid Station | Romulan Space ] ATTN: @Dree

Ehfva weakly raised a hand-paw and gestured to their cell, “Thisss is not…living.”  She sighed as the human, Sash, lay her shirt across Ehfva’s torso. Ehfva nodded her thanks, still too weak to adjust the thin fabric into a more permanent position. “We arrrre nehverr aloooone.” With a subtle head nod, she indicated Sash’s chest. “Maahtes, fffamillly, frrrriendssss, they arrrre heeere.”

Closing her eyes, Ehfva rested her wrecked, partially transformed vocal cords. She pictured Keokuk in her mind, drawing the beautiful memories of their life together as a cloak about her tortured body. She’d overslept the alarm that last morning together and had barely awakened to his soft kiss against her temple before he’d reported for duty. She’d had no reason to question the permanence of this routine, no reason at the time to relish the absolute beauty of that moment.


“Ehhhffffva.” She breathed out, eyes still closed as she touched her chest again, hoping Sash understood her despite the growling garble that were her words right now. “My maaaahte was killed by thesssse...” Ehfva opened her eyes, a frown tugging at her lip-jowls. She didn’t even know what to call the aliens who’d captured them, and certainly, the Romulans who worked alongside them were unlike any Romulan she’d ever encountered before. Ehfva angled her head to study the younger woman more closely. “We haaaave duuuuty ttttooo sssurvvvive, Sssaaaash.”
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO S [ Day 1 | 1200hrs ] ALL ABOARD the Crazy Train!
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Cmdr. Cross | Conference Lounge | D. 8 | V. 2 | USS Theurgy ] ATTN: @TWilkins

The question was solid, and the philosophical implications reminded Cross of the many debates the Voyager’s return created and the ripples the declassified reports had caused once they’d been shared. This very same question had already been asked by more than a few of the officers and crew of the Theurgy since they’d first discovered the Infested threat, and likely, many more would continue to voice the question until the threat was eradicated.

“There has been a continued debate regarding Starfleet, even before this more recent threat and schism, if you’ll allow the term. When the first Enterprise was sent out to explore, it did so with the frankly naïve notion that diplomacy and reason can win over anyone. Yet, we know what came of those early years of exploration, and Captain Archer himself advocated for more defensive weapons and armor for ships before more were sent out. Starfleet has tried to balance on the thin line of being a power for exploration and being a power for protection. Starfleet was designed to explore and create, to protect and support. To have either, you have to have the means and the mindset to back it up with more than mere words. This is the debate, Ensign, how many guns are too many? How far do we allow ourselves to be pressed before we respond with force? We can cite ideals, but that’s what those are, Ensign, ideals and very few ideals hold up perfectly under all circumstances.”

He gestured to the entirety of Llewellyn-Kth ‘s body before continuing. “What are your non-negotiables? Every man and woman will be put through a number of crucibles in their lifetime, and through those difficulties, they’ll discover their non-negotiables. This crew has been and currently is in a crucible. Though many don’t realize it, all of the Federation is. What has been determined as non-negotiable is that no one in our galaxy can truly be safe so long as the Infested haunt and infiltrate us. Understandably, Talarian crisis is something the Federation would and should be allocating resources to deal with, yet because of the Infested influence, they are being manipulated into reallocating resources to get rid of the threat against their undisputed power. They desire chaos and destruction and nothing short of that. We know from experience that diplomacy and reason do not work with the Infested and we have been and are still working to use non-violent means to bring the truth to the masses so that the threat can be fought and won on multiple sides. But make no mistake, Ensign, we have to back-up the desire to win with actual movement to win. That means sacrifices, not of ideals, but of lives.”

Cross leaned back in his chair, tipping his head to the side as he studied the ensign again. They were not so far apart in age, and yet it felt they’d lived through entirely different timelines.

“No one on this ship is being encouraged to abandon the foundational tenents on which Starfleet and the Federation were built. On the contrary, we are encouraging everyone to look through the flowery words meant for bureaucrats to the core of each tenant. That’s why we’re here, still, even as our memorial wall grows. We found our non-negotiables and we aren’t giving up on a future of a return to those core values for Starfleet and the Federation once the Infested are taken care of.”
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 laughed, shaking his head, “I actually hadn’t thought about whether or not you’d like the water.” He shrugged. “Aside from a portion of my re-education and Starfleet training, I’ve not spent much time on Earth. At least not enough to have picked up on ALL the stereotypes. I can say that my human mentor had a cat that loved to go swimming in the lake near his house; not sure what type of cat it was, but when asked if I’m a dog or cat person, I’d normally say dog, I also think of that cat and could see myself enjoying having that kind for a pet.”

Tapping his fingers against the table in connection with the song's rhythm, Cross shook his head at his own mental musings on what a picture drawn by his hand would look like. “I’m a precision shooter but I don’t think I’d be much good for drawing or painting. I mean painting a bulkhead or a house, sure, but not a landscape that’s for damn sure.”

Their conversation was interrupted briefly by the waiter’s arrival, wishing to clear out the last of their empty plates and cups while offering another round of anything if desired. Cross was content and waved off the offer, waiting until after Lok spoke and the waiter left before he answered the Kzin’s question.

“I like to play through noir-style holonovels, mystery adventures typically. I’m a bit of a scotch and whiskey sommelier and enjoy pairing drinks with the food I cook. I also enjoy certain strategy games, touring historical places, going to concerts, and listening to music. I have already mentioned my love of small arms, so I unwind with shooting practice. I also enjoy sparring and challenging my body to push its old limits.” He gave a semi-mirthless chuckle, reaching up to tug on the bottom of his earlobe. “I’m not your typical Vulcan, that’s true, as up until not long ago, I was a hybrid Vulcan-Bajoran, manufactured in a Cardassian lab and re-educated by my Starfleet rescuers. If it weren’t for the Savi bastards we tangled with on the Versant, I’d still be a hybrid, but they ‘fixed’ me and a number of others onboard into being just one part, and they determined for me that my Vulcan side was my best side.” Cross muttered “dumb fucks” not so subtly under his breath before shifting his weight and giving a half-shrug. “Still getting used to the whole full-blooded Vulcan business, to be frank, and it hasn’t been without its challenges, but I’ll be damned if I start playing Kal’Toh for fun. I’d much rather drink whiskey in my skivvies while listening to some classic rock.”

Oh fucking Hathev, his subconscious offered, but Cross merely smiled. He wasn’t about to shock the poor man with his awakened enthusiasm for enjoying his girlfriend’s mind and body assets.
Director's Cut / [2381 - USS Theurgy] - PRO: S [D01|0533] A Day In The Life
Last post by Pierce -
STARDATE: 57709.01
MAY 10, 2381
0533 HRS

[ Lt. Commander Alana Pierce | Pierce's Quarters | Department Head Officer’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn:

It was early. Too early. Alana's alarm was going off and despite it's subtle nature, her hearing had been amplified enough to hear it whereas before her transformation, she could sleep through almost anything...almost. Her mind was tired still and sluggish from the weeks leading up to now. It wasn't that long ago she joined the crew and began her journey on the Theurgy. Why was her mind racing? What was so damned important she had to get up and around?

Another thing she noticed since the change was the lack of peace. Her mind was always racing and thinking over various scenarios and situations she would no doubt have to tackle yet. But at this moment, she laid still in the comfort of her bed, with the silky Starfleet sheets covering her partially clothed body. Knowing that in a few hours she had a breakfast with her great-great-granddaughter and Reggie, followed by a briefing and other normal work details, she laid still.

Crimson hair strewn across her face that she took an arm and wiped away the sleep from her eyes, clearing the hair with it. Pierce let out a stretch and yawn as she drew her arms above her head, lifting her bust and shirt while stretching her legs out, intertwined under the covers.

"Ugh, I am tired...and still not used to my life..." She mumbled before turning to her side, the weight of her breast leaning on her upper arm and elbow as she looked at the wall. Another feeling she had was to get clean...and to pee. Damn tiny bladder... she grumbled in her mind as she leaned up, head tilting forward with tiredness, and hair falling in her view. Her V-neck Starfleet issue pajamas, with shorts were fitting to say the least, but it was still far less constricting than her undergarments which were non-existent underneath at present.

She looked down and couldn't see past her massive chest. Part of her smirked and then she remembered she still had messages, a shower and a drink to wake up before she headed to breakfast. Finally taking the effort to stand up, Alana glanced at the photo next to her bed of the USS Eagle. Nostalgia at it's finest that she couldn't shake, but like her, survived the tests of time. Seeing the reflective coating, her visage was disheveled. Sleep was evident on her face, hair and clothing. A smirk broke the mental gymnastics going on before she took a quick walk out into the main living area to fully wake up.

Ordering a morning cola to hit the taste buds but also the caffeine fix, she stepped to her desk and began to look over the recent messages. Thus far, nothing she didn't already know about was on the docket. Which meant, more time for lounging. Standing up, and heading to her wall of décor and memorabilia, she had her old badge from the 2280s, a model of the Eagle, a photo of her and the bridge crew, and some of her favorite knickknacks from various travels and missions.

Taking a swig of the drink, she placed the glass back on the replicator as it was empty, the glass dissolved back to the ether. Still odd how that worked she thought. The urge to pee hit her again and she headed to the rest room finally to relieve herself as she took off her top and her pants to shower afterward. Throwing the garments to the edge of her bed, she stepped into the bathroom to start a bath before sitting on the throne.

Finishing her business, she stood up and stepped over the edge of the bath before it slightly burned her foot and lower leg causing a slight yip as she retested it in the water before placing the other leg in. Climbing in, she laid back before sitting down in the water. Thoughts crossed her mind as she relaxed in the tub, closing her eyes and letting the heat build around her.

Her wet hair resting on her chest, and shoulders as she took a deeper dive under the water to rinse her tired face and top of her head before re-emerging to the surface and leaning back again. The last time she went for a swim was several weeks ago when she ran into Tessa and Amanda in the pools. It was jarring but she rather enjoyed her time with Amanda... The thought of their time, made her feel...things she didn't yet know if she entirely enjoyed or not. But the urge was fairly strong as she felt the need to touch places she hadn't done since her change happened...
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 10 [1326] Chaos in the Clouds of Qo'Nos
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madson | Mekro'vak Region | Qo'noS ] ATTN: @Eden

Her tongue brushed over the elusive ribbon, victory tantalizingly close…


Just as she managed to loop the first bit of the ribbon between her teeth, Enyd’s world abruptly changed, her whole body mercilessly crushed beneath Cal’s as the pilot launched himself backward, landing on a table Enyd-first. For as wily and determined as the diplomat was, mass versus mass when physics applied itself, it was no wonder her lungs were squeezed empty of air in the abrupt landing. Her arms were pinned, face half buried in the dirt, Cal’s crotch resting heavily on her face. If she so wanted, with a further twist of her head, she could abandon the ribbon and instead nibble on his testicles now that the soft flesh of his balls was resting so intimately against her cheek. Enyd did NOT want.

Through clenched teeth, Enyd let out a subdued cry as the initial shock of the fall abated. Something sharp had stabbed into the lower lefthand quadrant of her torso. Be it cutlery, broken plate, or part of the table itself, they would have to deal with that later. There were other areas on her arms and legs where she felt the painful tickle of where new wounds had been opened, mere human flesh no match for the coarse material of a Klingon table or a Klingon plate.

Enyd tried to push up against Cal’s weight but immediately stopped when the pain in her gut fired, sending a teeth-setting groan through her throat. There was nothing she could do, even with the Klingon “steroid” in her veins. No doubt, the pilot would succeed in getting her ribbon now that he had her legs pinned just as effectively as the rest of her. Enyd inwardly sighed, doing her best to breathe through the pain as she focused on the fact that even during and after the shock of the pilot’s merciless tactic, she hadn’t let go of the ribbon clenched between her teeth. This fact would become apparent when he rolled off, which she hoped would be soon. His momentum would do the work for her, and though he would have scored the victory first, hers would not have been far behind.

Her chest fluttered with a muffled chortle. It wasn’t so different than pleasure in the between the sheets. It was so much easier for a man to reach his climax first than for a woman, and only a truly skilled man knew how to bring a woman to her peak before his own. Maybe later, when she wasn’t bleeding out into the Klingon dirt with Cal’s cock pressing against her ear, she could tease him about this very fact.
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