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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 2: S [Day 02 | 1630hrs] Cat's in the Cradle
Last post by joshs1000 -
[CPO Avandar Lok | Pilot’s Locker Room | Fighter Bay | Deck 16 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Krajin

Valkyrie 8749 - RCS total replacement…
Sweep again for debris…
Rotate T’Pret and Austin…
Reports for Commander Cross…
Memorial for the dead…
Recalibrate deck tractor beams…
Reports for Commander Cross…
Valkyrie 8748 - RCS total replacement…

The chorus seemed endless in Lok’s racing mind, too much to do, not enough time, and too exhausted to do it. Not enough time, he repeated to himself and reached out to tap the panel of the shower once more for just a bit more water pressure to perhaps blast away the aches and pains from his muscles. Lok had semi-clandestinely snuck into the Pilot’s Locker Room in order to get cleaned off and take a moment to relax, he would have used the Deck Crew’s showers but the detonation of the torpedo from Ghost’s fighter had thoroughly wrecked them. All the pilots seemed to be away or getting a bit of rack time before what was supposed to be yet more action later, so he figured nobody would come in for a bit, at least that is what he hoped. He sighed again and adjusted himself to lean against the far wall of the shower as the water ran down his front and slicked his black fur down, giving it a lovely sheen in the blue light and revealing every one of his powerful muscles.

Lok finally opened his eyes for the first time since he had started this whole ritual. He smirked and lightly chuckled to himself as he realized he had totally forgotten to close the opaque door to the shower, guess it’s a good thing nobody came in. Rather than close it though he just left it open, he was about to get out anyway and the interaction of the hot water and cool air had formed a bit of draft that felt kind of nice. Sighing yet again he forced his body to stand upright, need to get done and get back to it, he chastised himself but first a few more things needed to be cleaned. He reached back and grabbed his tail, lathering and stroking the length of it to get any dirt or grime out of his fur, then came his ears, and next his intimates, which he of course handled more delicately. As he lathered his sheath the thought came to him of perhaps “relieving stress” in a more carnal way but he reminded himself, once more, he didn’t have the time. Once all that was taken care of he rinsed off and stepped out of the shower.

A large pile of folded towels sat on a rack nearby and Lok grabbed most of them, his fur would take a fair deal to dry off and since he was in the locker room he couldn’t exactly shake all the water off like he normally did. He got to work with the first towel, giving himself a once-over to get the majority of the water off. Once that towell was thoroughly soaked he started on the next getting some of his thicker areas of fur. The next towel was for his tail. As he went about the task of drying himself he started to hum a Betazoid pop song, the name of which he couldn’t remember. He picked up the final towell threw it over his head and started to rub it all over to get the last of the water out, specifically from his ears. So enraptured was he that he didn’t even realize someone had entered until a familiar voice asked.

“Enjoying yourself in there?”

Lok yelped a little and threw the towel off in surprise, He blinked several times to let his yellow eyes adjust to the sight of Dom by his locker, staring at him with a smirk.

“Lieutenant!” Lok responded in a bewildered tone.

Discipline and over a decade of service however took hold and rather recoil in embarrassment he automatically stood at attention in front of the shower alcove. This of course put him on full display for the officer, his muscular form stood poised and tall, chest pushed out, every muscle tensed and flexed as he stood still. His black fur, now mostly dried, was a bit unkempt, he would need to brush it, but it still looked attractive in a sort of “just rolled out of bed” kind of way. It only took a few seconds though for Lok to regain his sense of reality and the fact that his hefty, even for a Kzin, furry testicles and plump sheath were on full display. He moved his large clawed hands to cover his shame as best he could and glanced at Dom with a nervous grin.

As Lok further regained his senses he felt oddly excited underneath all the nervousness of getting chewed out. Perhaps he had wanted this to happen, his mind had suggested that certain stress relief earlier; his ears suddenly burned and folded back as he felt a twitch of response under his hands at the naughty thought. He had been eyeing Dom up when he could the past couple days, the two were both empathic, his feelings and desires were not hard to figure out, maybe they both subconsciously drew each other here. Hard to say.

His hearts pounded as he waited to see what would happen next
2
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH2: S [Day 2 | 2315 hrs] For all the blood-tainted stars...
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Romulan Strike Craft | Dogfight Near the Triangle ] Attn: All Involved in Fighter Combat @P.C. Haring  @Stegro88 @rae  @Pierce @Dumedion @Krajin 

The burning wreckage of what had once been a wingmate spiraled past her canopy, the green aurora of a ruptured singularity core still flickering violently as it trailed into the void. The pilot swore under her breath in the clipped, guttural Romulan dialect of her home province, fingers tightening on the controls as her strike craft dove hard beneath the dorsal arc of a Federation Valkyrie.

*How were they this good?*

She had fought Andorians in skirmishes along the shattered borders of the Velorum sector, danced against Klingon raiders testing the nerves of the divided Empire. But these Theurgy bastards flew like predators—coordinated, brutal, fast. And unlike her own half-panicked wingmates, the Federation pilots didn’t just react—they *hunted.*

Her sensor grid flared with another contact loss. A Mogai-class wing support had just vanished in a pulse of light. She grimaced, banking starboard, trying to shake the lock the human pilot had on her. Plasma bursts flicked past her cockpit, lighting the narrow space in pulses of orange and white. A momentary break in the crossfire let her breathe again.

"Maintain squadron formation!" she barked into the encrypted combat net, but there was no answer from her flight leader. Just static and screams.

And yet, through it all, her targeting systems were a mess. Her lock-on sequences refused to hold—*jamming? no, too precise*—as if the Starfleet fighters were dancing one heartbeat ahead of her every attempt to fix a torpedo track. Her fists slammed into the side of her console in frustration.

"This should not be happening. We *outnumber* them!" she hissed.

But then… something even stranger.

Her HUD pinged a contact ahead—a Romulan shuttlecraft, one of the newer Peregrine-pattern retrofits—but instead of banking into the expected defensive arc, it fired. *At another Romulan vessel.*

"What in the Elements…?"

Her eyes darted across the tactical feed. Two, no, *three* more strike-craft were peeling away from their defensive screen and engaging the tail end of the carrier wing. Green disruptor fire lanced across the void, hitting *Romulan hulls.* Was it a malfunction? Sabotage?

Or something darker.

*Have they turned on us? Who gave that order?*

Her confusion clouded the moment. A warp-sheer ripple narrowly missed her port nacelle as a passing fighter spun through the wreckage of a broken Valravn. Her focus snapped back.

And then—*yes.*

Her targeting grid flared emerald green. A lock. Clean, stable, undeniable. A Federation fighter—angled just right, its electronic countermeasures lagging half a second too long. Her weapons primed automatically.

"Target acquired," she whispered, a slow smile spreading across her lips. Her finger hovered over the trigger. “Time to even the score.”
3
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EP 2 BTS | D02 | 2300 hrs] Turning Into the Wind
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[PO1 Vinnie "Fury" Ferris | Fighter Bay | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: ATTN: @rae  @Pierce @Dumedion  @Stegro88  @Havenborn  @Eden  @Krajin  @Tae @P.C. Haring @ob2lander961  @Dree @Krajin

The shriek of klaxons was almost drowned out by the pounding of boots and shouted orders echoing across the flight deck as PO1 Vinnie Ferris emerged from the corridor, helmet tucked under one arm and flight harness slung partially over his shoulder. His pace was brisk, but there was a calm in his movement—equal parts muscle memory and practiced urgency. The red lights flashing across bulkheads painted the Kestrel’s tail fins in shades of crimson and shadow.

Fury was already dressed for launch, and despite his RIO station still being in limbo following Devyrie’s death, he was assigned to back up several pilots for launch readiness and emergency fill-in. He’d been rotating between simulators and real seat time ever since, keeping sharp, staying useful.

His sharp eyes swept the deck and immediately caught sight of the two Kzin—Lok’s distinctive striped frame sprinting across the deck, shouting orders and rallying the crew, and Dominic already hauling himself into Wolf-10, like a great beast climbing into a war chariot. It was chaos—but it was controlled. That was good. Theurgy didn’t need hesitation. She needed teeth.

Ferris quickened his stride past the line of Valkyries being fueled and armed, nodding to the ordnance team as he passed. “Make it sing, Warrant,” he tossed over his shoulder to the munitions tech loading photon torpedoes into Wolf-07’s belly. He reached the access ladder to one of the standby Valravns and paused, watching Lok at the top of Janus’s ladder, running a function check like a man trying to plug every hole in a sinking ship before takeoff.

He respected that—respected *him.* He'd only been awakened recently and yet the other Kzin worked like a man possessed, but there was calculation behind his chaos. That was what made the difference between surviving a battle and just being another smoking crater in someone’s kill report.

Ferris tapped his earpiece, catching the tail end of the Flight Ops call.

“—Wolf Squadron to your spacecraft!”

His own Valravn, Wolf-11, gleamed beneath the hangar lights. It had been stripped down and refit twice since their last engagement. No one wanted to put it in the air until now. But desperate times. Fury gave a grim smile and jogged over, climbing the side with the fluid grace of someone who’d done it a hundred times before.

The cockpit canopy was cold to the touch as he dropped into the RIO seat—not his usual role now, but if called, he’d be ready to fly solo again. He ran the checklist like muscle memory: life support, ECM, shields, pulse phaser control, warp field modulator sync. One after the other, green lights swept across his display.

He opened a comms link to Flight Ops.
"Wolf-11, RIO Fury. Preflight complete. Bird’s green across the board. Standing by for launch clearance or reassign if needed."

As he waited, he glanced across the canopy toward Janus’s fighter, seeing Lok finally drop from the side and stride toward the other crew chiefs. A low chuckle escaped him.

“Damn right,” he murmured. “Let’s whoop some ass.”
4
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Topic: Ch 3 : The Hunt is On [ Day 1 | 1530+]
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Lt. Enyd Madsen | Jeffries Tube Junction | Deck 4 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Nesota Kynnovan  @Eirual

A muffled thud, followed by a flurry of motion, announced her entrance before Enyd even had a chance to speak. One boot slipped on a crossbeam, sending her tumbling forward with an undignified grunt as she landed squarely in view of Jaya and Kel. Her disheveled braid swung over one shoulder, a stubborn streak of conduit grease decorating her cheek.

“Don’t shoot,” Enyd coughed out, lifting one hand in half-hearted surrender while awkwardly regaining her footing. “Unless you really didn’t like my last diplomatic report.”

Her grin faded into urgency as she adjusted her posture, brushing herself off with a quick sweep of her palms. “I heard something earlier—crawling, shifting metal—back in one of the auxiliary tubes. Thought it might’ve been someone in distress or, worst case, sabotage. So I followed it. Got turned around just in time to hear about the frontal assault on Engineering over comms.”

She nodded toward the route ahead. “I was already heading that direction when I ran into, well… gravity.” A slight gesture to where she'd fallen. “I’m guessing you two heard something?”

Her gaze sharpened, scanning their expressions for unspoken tension. “I don’t think that attack on Engineering is the *real* problem. It feels too loud, too direct. My gut says it’s a distraction—something nastier is crawling its way in through these tubes.”

She unholstered her phaser, the gesture crisp and practiced, voice dropping slightly. “Suggest we stick together and keep our weapons ready. If I’m right, the next threat’s going to come from behind, not in front. Meaning the core itself is likely at risk.”

With a firm nod to Jaya and Kel, Enyd moved to take point beside them, expression grave despite the remnants of her earlier fall.
5
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 4: S [D01 |1830] Second Station from the right and straight on till its over
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
@Eden @RyeTanker @ob2lander961 @Tae

They never landed quietly.

From the moment their warp signatures blinked into the system, the tension had sunk in like cold metal—tight and merciless. The Savi station loomed ahead, quiet, shadowed, monstrous. Designed without empathy, devoid of warmth. It felt less like approaching a base and more like flying into the belly of something ancient and cruel.

The shuttle ride was rough. Hull plating groaned under errant flak from auto-defenses, and one of the team took a hit—nothing fatal, but enough to raise the stakes.

Once inside, they split up briefly to move faster. The corridors were an eerie kind of clean, sterile enough to make your skin crawl. It wasn’t long before they encountered the experiments. Things that were once people—Federation, Klingon, even Romulan—splayed open, reconstructed, rewritten. Science, they called it. One chamber had held something worse—alive, barely—but they couldn’t save everyone. They had to move.

One one tier they found a conduit and began the download, taking anything they thought could be of use in the coming days.

It was in the lower medical tier that they found them: survivors from the Cayuga, emaciated, weak, but alive. They’d clung to each other in silence, scared to hope. The pilots had to burn their way through a sealed bulkhead to get them out.

It cost them another injury. More losses to note if they survived the day. But they didn’t stop.

By the time they got back to the shuttle, the station had gone from unsettling to hostile—alarms screaming, drones rising. The extraction was ugly. One pilot took a disruptor graze, another got slammed into a bulkhead by a drone—but they made it.

The hatch sealed, engines roared, and they left that cursed place behind.

There would be questions. Reports. Nightmares. But they had the survivors.

And for now, that was enough.

FIN
6
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EP 2 S: [D3 | 0015hrs] If You Want Blood, You Got It
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Hirek tr’Aimne | Corridor | Deck 6 | The Helmet] Attn: @Brutus  @RyeTanker  @Dumedion @joshs1000

There were many things Hirek tr’Aimne excelled at—manipulation, seduction, subterfuge. Moving with grace in an over-engineered Starfleet exo-suit? Not among them. The damned thing made him feel like a battle-scarred mollusk dragging a torpedo casing.

Still, he adapted.

He stood now, boots braced on the angled deck, the scent of scorched conduit biting through the filters. One arm still cradled the pale-haired Romulan—Jaeih, apparently—whom he'd helped to her feet after the sudden decompression and containment seal locked them into this corridor of chaos. Whatever he’d expected from their mission today, being body-checked into Kino Jeen mid-stride certainly wasn’t on the list.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “If I’d known you wanted me on top of you, Lieutenant, I’d have arranged more flattering lighting.” Although he'd known Jaeih had been the one to use his bulk as a weapon against Kino, Hirek couldn't resist the opportunity to make her squirm in annoyance.

Pushing himself up with a grunt, just in time to see Jaeih draw her blade and level both it and a disruptor at their teammates. What a surprise...or rather, not. Hirek narrowed his eyes. He didn’t trust her. No right-minded Romulan would, not yet. But he understood her. Anyone playing a long game inside the Tal’Shiar’s snake pit that was Romulas earned a certain measure of wary respect. And, even more, she'd been working directly with the so-called Empress. That took great skill to survive.

Still, they had no time to debate philosophies.

And predictably, their argument was interrupted by the universe attempting to kill them again. The deck exploded in heat and light as Klingons burst from the adjoining corridor with bloodlust in their eyes and bat’leths high. Weapons fire blazed. Agans and Falvar moved to intercept, but one Klingon broke through fast—

Falvar stumbled—then screamed.

Jaeih spun in, her blade a whisper of motion. The Klingon’s roar became a gurgle as her blade slipped through his midsection, then twisted savagely. She shoved the body aside without a word, already scanning for the next threat.

Another Klingon crashed toward Hirek. He lifted his weapon—but not fast enough. A shot cracked. The warrior’s head snapped sideways, armor splitting. He dropped like a sack of wet meat. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Kino's eyes just as she moved the end of her rifle away, already scanning for her next contact.

A third Klingon suddenly leapt from cover, barreling toward Agans. The human tripped as he sought to evade, phaser scrambling uselessly from his grip.

Hirek charged. No time for grace—just brutal instinct. He ducked the swing and drove his fist into the Klingon’s throat. Cartilage crunched. The enemy fell clutching at the crushed mess that had been his windpipe.

The last Klingon made to retreat—but not fast enough. Falvar, still bleeding but mobile, let out a bark and fired. The heavy stun dropped the warrior mid-step. At Hirek's questioning glance, Falvar gave a half-shrug.

“Alive,” Falvar muttered. “We’ve got questions.”

Jaeih wiped her blade clean on the last body and glanced toward the bulkhead. Her earlier warning still hung in the air: the true threat was already moving. As if called forth by the very thought, a Commander Al-Zaheer spoke through the comm system. Knowing he'd not met everyone onboard, Hirek didn't pay much attention to the man's name, just took note of the location of the thread and sighed. He doubted it was going to be an easy approach.

Hirek looked at Falvar. The injury wasn't fatal, but he'd slow them down if he continued. Presuming on behalf of Kino, Hirek gave the man a half-smile before moving past him in the corridor. "Don’t let our new friend pass out before he spills everything.”

Agans moved to help Falvar, dragging the limp Klingon into a secured niche. Above, the lights flickered as the ship trembled again.

Jaeih met Hirek’s gaze before turning her attention back to Kino. “Do you believe me now? Or do we need to risk more before your inferior mind sees the truth?”

Hirek doubted Kino was going to take kindly to name-calling, especially not after one of her men was injured. “Ladies,” Hirek drawled, casting a glance at both women beside him. “Try not to fight over me while we save the ship.” Better they both be annoyed with him than at each other's throats.

And with that, he turned and ran, stumbled, recovered with a grunting chuckle, and resumed course towards engineering.
7
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH2: S [Day 2 | 2315 hrs] For all the blood-tainted stars...
Last post by Krajin -
[ Dominic Winters | Wolf 10 | Local Space | U.S.S Theurgy ATTN: @Dumedion @rae @Pierce @Stegro88 @P.C. Haring - All Wolves.


Flying in this battle, evading incoming energy weapons, and engaging targets at varying ranges with the tools he had at his disposal. The Phaser emitters on his wings fired at pursuing individuals who got onto Dom’s tail or tried to do so. This battle felt like he was back in the Dominion War. Klingons and Federation on one side and a technologically superior enemy on the other. In this case, it was the Romulans, their cloaking technology was second to none and their disruptors were not a weapon to underestimate. There was so much going on in the battlefield that he had switched his comms to his current squadron and coordinated with Theurgy’s different sections, Ranger, and Helmet. Everything else was fed through to one of the side displays.

He maintained a chillingly calm demeanour in the chaos of this battle, for his culture as far as he understood a battle like this would bring great honour to the warriors who fought in it. For victory was most certainly not guaranteed, and within a moment, a life could be snuffed like a candle in the wind from a stray energy blast or by being the unexpected target of a foe getting the tactical edge over you. 

Having been seperated from his pack by a swarm of Stalkers, Dom weaved around the wreckage of a Mogai while trying to track his way back when he got the call from Shadow. “Wolves, Shadow – tally on the Helmet, she’s under heavy fire. Three and Four are engaged, anyone else in range to assist?”

“Wolf-04 this is Wolf-10 I read you. Coming in hot from Starboard side of Helmet. Target in sight.”

Came his quick response as he dove out from the remains of the Mogai and crested over the dorsal section of the Helmet. The shields were ablaze with energy discharges from the assaulting D’deredix Warbird as it got utterly hammered by the enemy. He had a quick think about such a ship and from old simulations that he and his old crew had done on a hypothetical of taking down something this large.

“Wolf-10 to all. I have an idea. Target the engineering bay along the ventral base of the head. Target data will be coming. I have two hounds, when I drop one and wreck the shields, lay in torpedoes. All we need is one good hit to disrupt the Singularity and watch a D’deridex suck itself. I’ll be danger close on the pull out, so watch the aim!”

He plunged his fighter into a tight dive down the front of the warbird, passing briefly through its Cone of Vulnerability and narrowly avoiding a blast of disruptor fire while his phaser emitters delivered some inaccurate blasts against the face of the craft. As soon as he cleared the nose, Dom swung Wolf-10 around and deployed the Cannon. Its particle laser painting the target and firing pulse-phaser blasts while his computer transmitted the targeting telemetry towards the others. As soon as he was in range, Dom initiated his pull up and dropped the Hellhound at the same location. A spectacular explosion rocked the shields of the D’deridex Warbird and now, it was in the hands of Shadow, Goldeneye and their Klingon Allies to punch a torpedo through the severely weakened shields and into their engineering section.

If done right, it should cause a cascade failure that would disrupt the stability of the microsingularity and cause the ship to implode or explode.
8
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EP 2 S: [D3 | 0015hrs] If You Want Blood, You Got It
Last post by joshs1000 -
Cmdr. (3rd) Hassar al-Zaheer | Corridor Outside the AI Core | Deck 2 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Brutus @Dumedion @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz
[Show/Hide]

The battle had been going on for some time now, an hour at least if Hassar’s chronometer was working properly, and other than a bunch of heavy jostling and the occasional power flicker it was quiet by the AI core. Around the ship though things were in chaos and Hassar knew he had already lost at least one Marine and another wounded from those attached to the Starfleet security teams. While his job was to defend his current position he couldn’t help but feel impotent, he wasn’t in charge of the ship’s internal defense, having only just arrived the day before, and had to leave the fates of his Marines in the hands of a people who eschewed direct combat in favor of diplomacy. He trusted the Spirits though and if it was their time to go hopefully they would find comfort in the afterlife; yet his frustration still lingered. Rather than think on that topic more he instead returned to the thoughts of defense of this vital part of the ship, the AI core, a miraculous piece of technology, so miraculous to Hassar it seemed like magic, however that could apply to so much Starfleet technology. He spoke with the AI, Thea, it called itself and took the guise of a human woman using holographics, it seemed pleasant and like a real person, nothing like the crude AI systems that the Vaharrans had brought with them from the old world. Thea’s realness was perhaps what solidified the importance of the mission to defend her for Hassar and his Marines, beforehand it just felt like any number of standard system defense protocols, defend the reactor, guard the armory, and so on.

There was a sudden shock that sent the entire security team tumbling to the steel deck. The lights flickered and then were extinguished to be replaced with emergency lighting. Hassar rose to his feet and helped up one of the Starfleet security officers that were with him while another broke out her tricorder device and started to scan the area. Even without the scan Hassar and the others could sense something was wrong, the communications equipment, both his own and the Starfleet issued combadges, were spotty and filled with static and the air felt heavy as the scents that accompanied broken equipment wafted down the now dimly lit corridor. Finally the security officer with the tricorder reported in, “there’s been a major hit on our deck, a hull breach, decompression of a section, the turbolift is down, shields are down in this area but are reassembling.”

“Are we going to lose oxygen?”, Hassar inquired.

“No we should be fine, the emergency force fields have sealed the damaged section.”

“Very well, let’s get some respirators on han-”

“Wait!”, he was suddenly cut off by the security officer, “I’m detecting transporter signals and Romulan life-signs, they’ve beamed a boarding party onto our deck!”

No sooner did she report this a metallic sphere was tossed by someone down the corridor in their direction, the defense team did not waste time as everyone made another acquaintance with the steel deck as the sphere bounced a couple times before rolling to a stop near the barricades to almost immediately detonate with a ear splitting noise and a blinding flash of light. Hassar was partially caught by this stunning device which left his ears ringing and temporarily unable to see in his right eye as he had not covered it in time. Most of the rest of the team were in not much better shape except for the two Marines by the portable barricades who scrambled back into a fighting position just in time for four Romulans in combat gear to round the corner intent on rushing the position while everyone was stunned. The lead two attackers were killed almost immediately before they could get a shot off, the first was hit in the neck and chest and slumped to the ground dead while the other was hit square on the right side of their forehead spraying their comrades in green blood and brains. The two following behind immediately took as much cover as they could and opened up with their disruptors but by now the rest of the combination Vaharran and Starfleet alien security force had recovered sufficiently to engage as well.

Hassar, still partially deaf, gestured for Al-Ahnad to get firing with the KP-100 while he himself crawled to the barricade. The heavy machine gun opened up as more Romulans down the corridor joined in the escalating fire fight, its deep pow pow pow was thunderous in the confined space of the ship as it sent its twenty millimeter rounds down range; its tracers and massive muzzle blast lit the corridor as did the sparks of its rounds slamming into various wall panel, shredding them to pieces. The two Romulans part of the initial assault tried to flee but were gruesomely mowed down. The Marines at the barricades along with Hassar contributed to the cacophony of noise and bullets as they kept the Romulans, probably taken aback by the destructive weaponry being used against them rather than a more civilized Starfleet phaser, took their own shots but with the level of bullets heading their way it was difficult to get a clear shot as disruptor beams struck bulkheads and barricades but were unable to hit any of the defenders directly. Sensing that the Romulans were sufficiently warded off from making another rush on their position Hassar ordered the firing slackened to conserve ammunition for another big push and with his hearing recovered enough to actually hear himself talk he attempted to reach out to his other Marines via their radios but could not get through and so switched to the Starfleet communicator.

[Security teams, this is Commander Al-Zaheer, we are under attack at the AI Core on Deck 2 by a large Romulan boarding party, numbers unknown possibly a dozen, we’ve got them held in place for now, be aware that the lift for this deck is non-functional, Al-Zaheer out], he reported to whoever was on the channel; he didn’t need reinforcements yet, but it was best to let those around know the situation. With that taken care of he popped out over the top of the barricade and sprayed a few rounds down at the Romulans to rattle them a little.


OOC NOTES-

-Hassar will for the moment be defending Thea's AI core during the battle but that may change based on events. Feel free to add a Vaharran NPC to your security squads if you like, just let me know if you have any questions about what gear they are carrying and how they fight.

-Refer to this post that details Hassar's arrival to Vector 1 with his Marines.
9
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ep. 2: S [Day 02 | 1743 hrs] Lay Down Your Burdens
Last post by chXinya -
[Ens. Irnashall “Shall ch’Xinya | Observation Lounge 4 | Deck 15 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy] attn: @joshs1000

His compatriot’s answer caught Shall off guard, though he did his best to keep his reaction contained. Journals written by the Aenar had taught him as a youth that not everyone got to enjoy the night sky for large portions of their life, but no windows on a starship? What travesty led to that oversight? Shall’s mouth opened to say something when the high vacuum warp streaks were suddenly replaced with the low vacuum light display, whiteish-blue swirls of various visual radiations billowing past the large window, disrupting his train of thought in the process. Blue eyes snapped to the window for a moment before returning to his companion, already climbing to his feet.

“No, there’s no experiment I’m running, I’m just setting up a repair one of the sensor arrays I maintain. Nothing will happen until we drop out of warp.” Shall gestured towards the small device he’d mounted to the window, “I need a pair of images of the same object from as far apart a perspective as I can get, which in this case is from the port and starboard sides of the ship. From there the computer can figure out how to get the visual array back into focus.” The astrophysicist slipped into his technical speech way too easily, his eagerness to share knowledge almost to the point of rambling. “Not unlike your eyes and brain.” He quickly added, not sure if the man understood what he was trying to do.

Speaking of the other man, with the brighter illumination Shall was able to get a better look at him, and he was an interesting specimen. First thought was that he was some sort of Klingon or related species, the ridged forehead and and incredibly muscular physique typical of the warrior species, but the ears were all wrong. And the skin color too. The body paints caught his eye as well, but he had trouble focusing on them between the dancing light and the rippling of the musculature as he moved to sit down next to a small pile of things. The question about hearing caught Shall by surprise, his mind wasn’t exactly paying attention to the sounds around him ironically.

“I’m sorry what?” The chan said at first, then realized where those green eyes were staring: right at the top of Shall’s head. “Oh, my antennae. No, they’re not auditory organs, but we can get a slight sense of strong EM fields.” The low vacuum warp effect faded back into the dark high vacuum one he preferred, plunging the room back into darkness, though the ambient light strips provided just enough light that Shall could see his reflection in the transparent aluminum. Glancing at it out of the corner of his eye he waggled the intact antenna and frowned forelornly at the stump of his severed one. It’s shown some growth finally, enough time having passed since Theta Eridani IV that he’d gotten at least a centimeter of it back. “I take it you’re one of the civilians we picked up? I’m Ensign ch’Xinya, part of the small science division we have on board.”
10
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle
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[ Senior Chief Petty Officer Verguy Cam | Bridge | The Helmet]

The bridge thrummed with tension—red alerts flashing, consoles humming under strain, and the distant echo of impending battle. Cam stood rigid, boots pressed firmly against the deck, every vibration sending a shudder through his body. Around him, Thea’s calm voice cut crisply through the chaos, delivering orders with unwavering precision. Yet beneath that calm, a storm of fear brewed in Cam's chest.

His eyes flicked to the viewscreen, where Romulan and Klingon vessels loomed dark and imposing. The new alliance between these factions and Theurgy had always been fragile, and Cam couldn’t help but wonder if it would survive the coming conflict.

Suddenly, a jarring impact shook the ship, throwing Cam forward against a console. Gripping it tightly to steady himself, he braced for whatever came next. His mind raced—not with tactical plans or heroics, but with a simple, desperate hope: to survive. To live through the chaos and return to the mess hall, where an unfinished ice cream sundae waited patiently. It had been a small comfort, a moment of sweetness before the storm—a reason to hold on.

[Lt Cmdr Cross]

Lieutenant Commander Cross gripped the armrests of his command chair aboard the battle bridge of the Ranger, his jaw set in a grim line as the ship shuddered under yet another volley from Tal'Aura's forces. The bridge was a chaotic mess—consoles flickering, smoke curling from overloaded systems, and the faint, acrid smell of burnt circuitry filling the air.

"Structural integrity holding! Shields flickering!" shouted the tactical officer, his voice barely audible over the blaring alerts.

"Continue to fire—target their disruptor arrays!" Cross ordered, his tone clipped and efficient despite the turmoil. He trusted his crew to do their jobs, but every hit they took made it harder to keep the Ranger in the fight.

The comms crackled, and a junior officer stumbled forward, blood trickling down his forehead. "Sir, reports are coming in—Donatra’s ships... they're turning on the Klingon allies. They’re turning on US. They're attacking indiscriminately."

For a moment, Cross couldn’t process it. He barked for more data, his mind racing through possibilities. Betrayal? A command override? Sabotage? None of it made sense, but there was no time to speculate.

A nearby console exploded, sending another officer to the deck. Cross called for medical teams, his voice rising just enough to cut through the chaos.
The tactical display showed red indicators multiplying—casualties mounting on both Klingon and Theurgy sides as Donatra’s forces tore into allies and enemies alike. Cross cursed under his breath. They’d come prepared to face Tal’Aura’s fanatics, not a fragmented alliance tearing itself apart mid-battle.

The Ranger rocked again, inertial dampeners straining. Cross wiped sweat from his brow, forcing himself to focus. They were surrounded, cut off from the main battle group, and their communications were spotty at best. His mind churned through strategies, looking for a way to regroup.

"Engineering, I need damage control teams on decks five through eight. Helm, evasive pattern theta-five. Keep us moving, and do not let those disruptors get a clean shot. I want all our fighters out of the bay NOW. If we’ve got shuttles, throw them out there too. We need more support.”

Amid the chaos, Cross couldn’t help but feel the bitter sting of helplessness. They were outgunned, outmaneuvered, and the very alliance they had relied on was crumbling. But he couldn’t let it show. The crew needed his steadiness, his resolve. Taking a deep breath, Cross braced for the next impact, determined to keep the Ranger fighting as long as he drew breath.

[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen]

Lieutenant Enyd Isolde Madsen stood within the diplomatic department aboard the the Helmet, eyes locked onto the chaotic display on the viewscreen. Her pulse pounded in her ears as Donatra’s ships, once thought allies, turned their weapons on both Klingon and Theurgy vessels indiscriminately. Outside the viewport, bursts of disruptor fire crisscrossed the void, and the Helmet occasionally lurched under the impact of enemy fire. Alarms wailed in the corridors, and the constant rumble of the ship’s shields absorbing damage made it impossible to think clearly.

Enyd and her team had worked tirelessly to bridge centuries of distrust between the Klingons and Romulans, fighting against the prejudice and deeply ingrained hostility on both sides on a damnable time crunch. Now, in the midst of their painstaking efforts, it seemed that some saboteurs had decided to upend all progress in one reckless act. Anger burned beneath her diplomatic calm, and she gritted her teeth, steadying herself as another hit rocked the ship. She’d been looking forward to that fancy dress dinner party too.

A Romulan warbird passed close to the viewport, its hull scorched and trailing debris, pursued by two Klingon Birds-of-Prey. One of the Klingon ships fired, striking the warbird’s aft engine and causing it to spiral out of formation. As it exploded in a violent flash, Enyd’s stomach tightened, not just from the loss of life but from the bitter realization that the fragile alliance was dissolving in real time before her eyes. What in the hell had gotten into Donatra to turn like this? Was it the fact that they’d shared the thalaron radiation intel with Martok’s forces? Did she so loathe no longer having an edge?

It wasn’t just the senseless violence that rattled Enyd, but the sheer stupidity of it all. Alliances as fragile as these didn’t survive betrayals like this. Whoever had orchestrated this chaos had done a fantastic job of ripping apart the tenuous threads holding this alliance together. They didn’t need the Infested to cause this sort of grief, as easy as it was to lay the blame at their slithering hides, it was just as likely that this had been done without their influence. If they survived the battle, Enyd knew the diplomatic fallout would be staggering, and that thought almost frustrated her more than the battle itself.

In the midst of her frustration, Enyd couldn’t help but think of Alistair. The thought of seeing him again after this nightmare gave her a small, stubborn sense of hope. She didn’t want to admit how much she missed him, or how desperately she wanted to feel his arms around her. Giving in to those feelings in the middle of battle was distracting. Yet, she was equally worried over Zark’s fate, her best friend sent to stop a star from exploding.

But for now, Enyd could do nothing but watch the stars outside the viewport flicker with the glow of disruptor fire, remaining ready for any order that came her way.

[Colonel Xiomek]

Colonel Xiomek’s Reman fleet (if a half dozen ships could be called such) slipped through the darkness of space, closing in on the battle coordinates with cold determination. His sources, deep within Tal’Aura’s ships, had confirmed what he had long hoped: the Praetor was dead. The knowledge brought a rare, bitter satisfaction—Tal’Aura’s tyranny finally ended. However, Xiomek’s hatred extended just as fiercely to the so-called Empress Donatra, whose manipulations threatened to prolong the suffering of their people.

The presence of the USS Theurgy remained a source of cautious calculation. Xiomek distrusted the Federation ship—outsiders who meddled in Romulan affairs with naive ideals. Yet, in the grand game unfolding, he recognized a potential ally in their recklessness. An outsider with nothing to lose and everything to gain was more likely to aid the Reman cause once the Romulan-centric government was toppled and replaced with what he hoped to be a joint initiative between people;s in rebuilding Romulus. But he wasn’t a politician, just the blunt force politicians use.

As his forces prepared to strike, still as of yet undetected by all currently within the fray, Xiomek’s resolve hardened. This battle was not merely about survival—it was the opening move in a larger war for the future of Romulus. The Praetor was gone, Donatra’s grip was tenuous, and the USS Theurgy’s role was uncertain. But Colonel Xiomek knew one thing with absolute clarity: the Reman would not be forgotten. They would rise from the shadows and claim what was theirs: to stand as equals in the light.
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