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91
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

Sash had asked her question - still very much trying to distract herself from the reality of their circumstances, but Ehfva either saw through her motivation or could tell that she needed more.

“Wwe dddooo thhhis ffiiirsssst,” Ehfva said.  And she placed her hand over her chest and began to tap her fingers lightly. 

From the way that the half-mutated wolf - humanoid motioned to her with her chin, the younger of the two could tell that she was supposed to mimic the motions.  She lay her own right hand over her chest her fingers trying to keep time with the Ehfva’s hand. 

The wolf-humanoid breathed in though her nose - or at least Sash assumed so because her mouth was closed until she opened it to breath out with a hum - a deep, yet quiet resonating hum.  It was almost a song.  The beat, the hum, the timed breaths.  Over and over.  It became almost hypnotizing. Beat, beat, beat, inhale, huuuuuuuummmmm.   Beat, beat, beat, inhale, huuuuuuuummmmm.   Beat, beat, beat, inhale, huuuuuuuummmmm.  Over and over until there was just the song. 

The song and the two of them.  A companionship in suffering.  A joining through pain.  There was both a letting go.  Letting go of the outcome.  At the moment, there was nothing Sash could do but be.  The chant instructed her on how to simply be.  She didn’t need to cajole her captors or manipulate their situation.  She simply needed to exist now in this moment.  And when she reached the next moment, she would exist in that moment too, and in every subsequent moment - until there simply wasn’t another.

The other thing that the song taught her was that as long as she was alive there was still hope.  Even if it was a waving hope, they weren’t dead.  And as long as they were alive there was a chance of a rescue - a chance of a fluke that killed their captors.  There was that chance.  She had to hold onto that chance as she had, when a toddler, held onto her ‘medved’ (or teddybear in the common tongue).  That chance - like that bear was her life and even safety.

Sash wasn’t sure how long they had continued their song.  What she suddenly became aware of was that, her companion had stopped chanting.  The younger woman’s eyes fluttered open - not in panic, but more in curiosity.

“Mmostt hhhheeeeallll ttthhhrooooughh sssooounndd.  Annnddd mmmmyyy ppeeeoppplee ffooorrmmm hhheeeealllinng cccirrcllesss.   Beeettteerrr?”

Sash paused a moment to check in with her body.  Did she feel better?  There was no question.  Not only did she feel better in body - she was no longer wracked with crippling fear.  But she also felt better in spirit.  She could leave her fate in the universe’s hands.  She was still alive and with that life came hope.  Hope that life could get better.  Hope that they may be rescued.  She turned her face to Ehfva.  “Amazingly so.”  And now that you’ve helped me find a modicum of peace despite the howling winds around us, I’ll ask once more.  “What was that?  And where did you learn that?”

To say that she had many more questions would have been an understatement.  She would start here and learn whatever she could from her companion - this person who seemed to have an amazing amount of wisdom.
92
Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: Theurgy: What If...? Below Decks Lounge
Last post by Dree -
Lt Reika Sh’laan | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy| attn: @RyeTanker @AbsintheDeux  @Dumedion @Juzzie

Reika watched as Kino started in - mostly talking to Zark at first, but as she took up her position at the bar and her elbows pushed back setting them atop the bar, it revealed even more of the outline of the Trill’s generous bust.  Full and plump.  Reika wondered what her breasts looked like without the fabric stretched taught across them.  It must have been slightly chilly as the elegant Andorian’s nipples pebbled through the fabric.

Reika’s lips curled into a mischievous smile as Kino offered to help her with ‘anything’ that needed attention.  “I’m sure I can think of a few things,” one side of the OPS officer’s lip lifted even higher watching the Trill’s eyes.  There was something in them that evoked emotions in the stately Andorian’s eyes.  “Ya know, you’re welcome to check my phaser anytime.  I’m sure there are a few other things that could be attended to at the same time.”  And still Sh’laan held the Trill’s gaze for a long moment as their spirits seemed to have their own language.

Then at the Kino's suggestion that they should all head off together, the OPS's officer's eyebrow cocked.  “The three of us, huh?” Reika's eyes swept from one to the other.  She’d never had a threesome before - and the thought of sharing her body with two female beauties?  That had a lot of appeal in itself.  Oh, how badly was she kidding herself.  A lot of appeal? That was a fucking understatement.  It would be a damn shame if, as interested as they all seemed, they didn’t hook up.  Even the suggestion had quickened her pulse and caused her breaths to come at a faster pace as her chest heaved a little more with each inhale. 

“I must admit,” Reika tilted her head toward Kino.  “Something about you caught my attention too.  There is, however,” Sh’laan turned her attention back to Zark, “an inexplicable spark between us too.  So, since I have a vote in this - 'tactical or otherwise,' as you, Kino, so wittingly put it, I vote for ‘otherwise’.”  The OPS officer’s antenna wiggled slightly - they wanted to writhe, but she managed to gain control over them toning their statement down.

Reika set her drink down just behind Kino and reached out gently touching each woman’s cheek at the same time.  “What do you say, we quit this joint and go somewhere a little more private so we can … get to know each other a little better and see where this leads?”

93
Director's Cut / Re: [2374] USS Hamburg: Meditate on the Way of the Targ
Last post by Dumedion -
[PO3 Kino Taer | J’rovia Reclusiam | Archaeological Site Gamma | 2374] Attn: @JacenSoloDjo

Whoa, we got some live ones here, Taer’s brows rose as she looked the newcomers over, then exchanged a glance with Grann. They moved as one, like a well oiled machine, in perfectly textbook formation; each of them wore crisp, clean uniforms – every member of the team outfitted in standardized kit – every piece of gear immaculately serviceable. Shit, someone break out the recruitment holo, Kino snorted sarcastically to herself as they passed, then quickly re-armed the mines while the head-honcho began her introductions. Once that was done, the Trill stood and idled next to Grann, rifle slung over her chest, and listened.

Kino’s eyes locked with the LT throughout, only breaking off to glance at each named officer. Mac was easy enough to remember, Newcrotch as well; the Klingon was hard to miss. Taer frowned in confusion at the third, Noah, on account of the unique nose ridges she’d never seen before, but mostly because no one had tried to correct or interrupt the LT’s pronunciation of the guys name – but the non-com shrugged nonchalantly and let it pass. When the fourth member was named and labeled as their ‘token’ Vulcan, Kino stifled a laugh with her hand, then quickly tried to play it off like she was performing the customary hand greeting they all liked to do; unfortunately, her fingers wouldn’t spread right, which aborted the attempt just as quickly. The Chief had faced out, but her chin lifted in greeting anyway.

They all looked so new and wound up, the non-com wondered for a second why they seemed so familiar; like something out of a holo-series – all stern expressions and dynamic body language – alpha predators of badassery and all that bullshit…

Then it clicked.

Shit me, its the fucking A-Team! Of course, not soon after that thought, Kino heard the theme song start up in her head, but when the LT paused, Kino blinked and glanced at Grann again. As if sensing the build up of smart-assery in Kino, the Bolian cleared his throat quietly as his eyes bulged in a prompt for her to speak professionally. Or at least try to.

“Oh, right,” the non-com sniffed and wiped her mouth to hide her smirk, then jerked her thumb at him. “This is Grann,” then Kino waved at herself. “I’m Taer,” she nodded, frowning at the weird formality for a second before her eyes moved over all of them again. Every one of them looked ready to to jump at the slightest provocation; buttholes locked tighter than a Ferengi banker. “Y’know, y’all can ease up -” she began, but was drowned out by the LT.

“He’s alive, or better be,” Grann answered matter-of-factly, then shrugged in explanation. “Owes me four strips of latnium,” he added at their blank expressions.

“Sure thing, Mac,” Taer interjected quickly with a brittle smile as she ran a hand through her short-cropped silver hair. “Lift’ll take us back the way we came through the service tunnel. It’s close quarters with low visibility, and home to the occasional rat, but clear; so please mind your trigger discipline,” she spoke over her shoulder while she walked through the middle of their formation – speaking to all of them. “No idea where the Jems are, but they don’t like the tunnels or don’t know about them, apparently.”

The Trill activated a dust covered control panel lit with Vulcan symbols to open the lift access at her feet, then gestured into the darkness with one hand. “Here,” her eyes rose to meet the LT’s, “I’ll take point,” the non-com stated casually, then turned to jerk her head at Grann. “Close it up behind everyone, double flash when your ready.”

The stoic Bolian nodded, then patted her shoulder and moved off as Kino stepped onto the platform. “It only fits two at a time, but its the safest, quickest route back,” she lifted a shoulder, then a finger at Newcrotch, the Klingon that towered head and shoulders above everyone. “You uh...might wanna duck down there.”

[Maglev Tunnel, moments later…]

It was substantially cooler underground; the darkness lit only by the shifting white cones of light that streamed out from phaser rifles – constantly in motion, painting the smooth carved rock around them in shadows of madness. Kino blinked rapidly as she walked, trying to speed up her eye adjustment while attempting to hail LT Kael in the TOC. After two tries met with nothing but static distortion, she gave up. Once they were all in, Grann flashed his torch at the ceiling twice in signal - which told Kino the lift had been secured and re-mined, so they could get the hell on with it.

“Comms are useless beyond a few hundred meters thanks to Big Red,” Kino explained as she walked. “So, sitrep – you want the long or short version?”
94
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Ch 4: S [Day 1 | 1810 hrs] A Friend Indeed...
Last post by TWilkins -
[ Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | Habitation Hull Common Area | Aft Recreational District | Erudite ] @Dumedion

Trudging off into the unknown? Perish the thought…

Sylvain personally found the concept of the unknown to be somewhat relative. After all, with the technological advancements in Federation navigational capabilities, it was rare that any destination was truly unknown. Between their sensor capabilities, the fleet of probes carried by most vessels, and the volumes of astrometric data held in the Federation database, space itself wasn’t quite the mystery that it would have been back in the day. Although, perhaps that was just his qualification in advanced astral navigation talking… He'd written an entire dissertation back on the topic back at the Academy...

Either way, he supposed that it scarcely mattered to their current circumstances. As they were, it was hardly likely that they’d have the opportunity to conduct any great feats of exploration, beyond perhaps investigating an unfamiliar looking plant that he’d spotted on their earlier walk between the aerodrome and the common area, through an open doorway into what he assumed might have been some sort of lab or hydroponics bay. They probably wouldn’t be allowed inside, but it might still be fun to observe from a distance. It had a shockingly pink hue to its leafage, which might have indicated an absence of chlorophyll. He wasn’t a botanist by any means, but he got starstruck by scientific curiosity as much as the next person.

“Oh, of course…” He pondered aloud to her question as he began to walk alongside the woman, his PADD clacking against the phaser strapped to his hip as he moved, the Ensign once again failing to remember that it was there. “Well, I suppose we’re not strictly on duty, so feel free to call me Sylvain if you’d prefer.” Sylvain had a fairly strict preference to be addressed by his title whilst on duty, as much as a mouthful as it might have been, however, he supposed in the interest of building some of that camaraderie that the Theurgy crew seemed to live by, he could experiment with his first name instead, especially considering their current circumstances. “That’s my first name, by the way, not just something I want you to randomly call me…”

Had he not been walking, he might have kicked himself at the over-explanation of his own name.

“Well, before this I was serving aboard the USS Bowman, it’s a Norway-class ship; they’re the sort of, spade-shaped ships, with the angular nacelle pylons.” He elaborated, providing a somewhat cruise demonstration of the shape of the ship in the air in front of him with his hands as he did so. It didn't exactly have the reputation of a Galaxy-class vessel, so he figured that it couldn’t hurt to describe it in a little more detail; some called it a ‘stumpy’ shape, but he personally thought that its size made it very efficient when it came to evasive patterns Epsilon, Iota and Psi…

“We mostly kept ourselves on the borders of Talarian space, handled raids from some of the separatists who didn’t like the peace treaties, helped the colonies with what they needed, a couple of diplomatic excursions…” The more he spoke, the more Sylvain found himself conscious that, compared to what the crew of the Theurgy had experienced during the past few months, his time aboard the Bowman probably sounded like a holiday. “It might not have been the ‘best adventure’ Starfleet had to offer…” He quickly admitted, using Cora’s own words against himself. “But, we made a big difference to those colonies, saving lives… That's sort of why I wanted to join Starfleet in the first place, to help people.”

Already, even after only a few moments, Sylvain found the combined activity of walking and talking to be doing wonders for his overstimulated mental centers... He wouldn't go as far as to say that he was calm, but he did feel notably less concerned that his nerves were going to force him to jump out of his own skin.

“Anyway, I was offered a spot aboard the Bowman straight out of the Academy, and I got promoted to head of my department within seven months, which, probably wouldn’t have happened if I’d been aboard a Galaxy class, so it’s all swings and roundabouts really.” Secretly, Sylvain was quite proud of how quickly he’d progressed aboard the Bowman, especially considering the dregs his mental state had been in when he’d first arrived aboard… He sincerely hoped that Cora wouldn’t misinterpret his pride as bragging, but he supposed it probably wouldn’t do his reputation any harm to broadcast that he’d been promoted so quickly… Thus far, his list of first impressions aboard the Theurgy, Commander Cross, Chief Lok, Cora, had all been less than stellar, so giving himself a bit of a boost, in a professional capacity at least, might go a little way towards making up for that...

It was just a shame that he'd not yet had the oppertunity to showcase to anyone how good he actually was behind a helm...

“Oh, and we did have a stand-off with a Tholian once!” He added with a rather atypical glimmer of excitement to his tone. Even amongst Starfleet officers, Tholian sightings were extremely rare; it was a pretty big deal all things considered, maybe not as exciting as surviving Borg armadas or fighting Savi warships, but it had to be up there... “It’s not every day that they wander out of their territory, so that was, pretty spooky…” Sylvain decided that it couldn’t hurt to omit the part where the ships had sort of just stared at each other for a few minutes, before the Tholian flew off back towards its own territory... Perhaps that made up for his egregious display of candor earlier?

“And, ah, yeah…” Sylvain felt himself grow a little hot, realising that he’d gotten absorbed into chatting about his time aboard the Bowman and somewhat neglected the crewman’s actual question. “Admiral Anderson contacted me a couple of months ago, he and my mum were pretty good friends back in the day…” He sidestepped back into the realm of how he had come to be aboard the Theurgy, somewhat without issue considering the litany of conversational faux pas he would usually have achieved by now. Maybe he was getting better at this whole conversation thing? Then again, after a mostly-naked Kzinti in a turbolift, a walk-and-talk with a fully uniformed Human was a piece of cake.

“So, yeah, he gave me the details about the… Well, you know…” It still felt weird to talk about the parasites aloud, and truth be told, he was currently of the opinion that forgetting they existed until their conflict with the Savi was over, seemed like a preferable option. “....and told me that there was a risk that they might target me because of my psionic abilities…” He gestured somewhat absentmindedly towards his head, neglecting to add any specifics in the hopes of avoiding any lengthy conversation about his capacity to ‘see the future’. “So, here I am.” He added with a somewhat explosive gesture. “I  arrived aboard the Vask'at earlier today. Honestly I was expecting to get assigned down in some navigation lab or something, but, I guess there was a vacancy, and since I’m qualified, they made me Chief CONN Officer…”

“Quite a jump between patrols on the Talarian border and the most advanced ship in the Federation…” And most wanted ship in the Federation, but he figured that the less that particular fact was brought up, the better, for the sake of his mental health if nothing else. “I’ve got to say, I’m excited to get behind the helm someday, assume that we sur-” He abruptly cut himself off. So much for keeping his mental health in check…

“Anyway, enough about me…” He abruptly changed the subject, tilting his head slightly in her direction as he spoke, trying to offer a somewhat friendly smile in the face of the keenness in her eyes. “What about yourself?” He paused for the briefest moment, his soft British accent hanging in the air as he considered that a self-depreciating joke might help lighten the mood away from his previous acknowledgement of how dangerous their mission might be… Perhaps that was one step backwards from a good conversation, but he figured that one-or-two conversational faux pas were to be expected, given the circumstances and all…

“What sort of adventure landed you on a wayward Savi vessel, en-route to stop a supernova from wiping out half of the Romulan Empire?”
95
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO: S [Day 1 | 1235 hrs] Tell Me I'm the Fairest of the Fair
Last post by TWilkins -
[Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | The Conference Lounge | D.8 | V.2 | USS Theurgy]
@joshs1000  

“Wha-...” Sylvain’s exclamation concluded with a strangled cough, the remainder of his words lost in the unfathomable horror that had coiled itself around his chest at the man's words, scalding hot like a thunderbolt as it rippled through his body and left nothing but a mortifying warmth in its wake. He felt for a moment, as though his entire body had been cast into a void, some sort of subspace realm where all that existed was the clammy heat of embarrassment and the stomach-churning tickle of anxiety, a stifling place that tied his stomach into a knot and choked the words right out of his throat.

Such was the instantaneousness of his humiliation, that Sylvain hadn’t even turned himself to face his apparent audience, his mind preoccupied with how to cope with such an absurd circumstance, rather than to address the situation as it was. Still, the Ensign managed to gather himself enough to swallow down the dry clump of dismay that had embedded in his throat, his mouth opening and closing a few times to work the dryness away, before he forced it shut with a not inconsiderable amount of effort. His entire face felt hot, his cheeks incandescent, whilst the rest of his pale face flushed scarlet, with the intensity of a red alert, but he yet made an attempt to remain composed.

It was a poor attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

When Sylvain turned towards the source of the voice, forcefully pulling his eyes up from his PADD as though the thing had its own gravitational field, he didn’t quite know what he was going to say; thoughts were rampaging through his head at a million miles per hour, and he hadn’t quite figured out which one to latch onto just yet. On one hand, he felt a fervent need to apologise profusely for his choice of song, the lyrics of which were immeasurably inappropriate for a public setting. Why on Earth had he chosen that particular song, of the entire breadth of his musical knowledge… Why couldn’t he have chosen something else, anything that wasn’t rammed with innuendo and blatant sexual subtext? Under ordinary circumstances, he’d have sooner swallowed his own tongue than willingly have said such things.

Then, from a different perspective, his mind seemed to ration that apologising to his colleague would make him appear guilty, when in reality, perhaps the situation was worsened by their actions? Sylvain had clearly been immersed in his PADD, absentmindedly singing to himself; immersed in his work... Not only had the man not made his presence apparent earlier, but he had gone out of his way to comment on the lyrics...

No, it definitelywasn’t appropriate to offer to pull his hair in a turbolift… 

And yet, a third part of his brain considered that neither anger not apology would serve his needs particularly well, and instead, investing in a way to diminish the implications of his song choice, as well as move the conversation onwards to a new topic, might’ve been the most prudent option. After all, the song was from a historical musical… Perhaps it might pave a way to a cross-cultural dialogue regarding cultural attitudes in Renaissance England?

It might have been an incoherent tumble of all three avenues fleeing his mouth, had Sylvain’s eyes not all but burst in their sockets as he finally addressed his posture to face the other man in the turbolift.

The voice had been deep and gruff when it had spoken, the slight Betazoid twinge to his accent providing Sylvain with a subconscious image that was absolutely not what he was greeted with. The sheer volume of fur on display might have been enough to make an Orion blush, the man's only attire being an ill-fitting medical gown that would have been akin to Sylvain trying to cover his entire body with a pillowcase. As Sylvain’s eyes shot upwards, his neck almost tilted forty-five degrees before he could see the man’s face, his mental state grew all the more scattered. He had a somewhat ferocious appearance, the brown fur around his head somewhat smoothed out, drawing even more attention to the lengthy fangs that protruded down from his mouth.

Sylvain had first considered that the occupant might have been Caitian. This person however, was undoubtedly a Kzinti.

Immediately, the Ensign pulled his head away from the larger male, distinctively boring his gaze into the side of the turbolift, an effort to afford both himself and the Kzin a little personal privacy; Sylvain was aware that Kzinti didn’t necessarily have a robust sense of fashion, but surely there had to be some sort of Starfleet regulation about wearing so little clothing… Though, as the thought presented itself, Sylvain suspected that whilst there almost certainly would be such a regulation, there would also be a subsection concerning the necessity of Captain’s discretion concerning individual cultures of serving species… And of course, the Captain of the Theurgy probably had more to concern themselves with than a mostly-naked Kzin strolling around Deck Eight.

Still, perhaps it warranted a review, maybe by a department head or something?

And that thought brought Sylvain back around to discontent, since, given his very recent appointment, there was every chance that the Kzin’s department head might well be himself…

“I-i, ah… Think, ah…” Sylvain struggled painfully, conscious that he had no idea of the man’s rank or status on the crew, and was therefore unsure as to how to address him; this Kzin could very well be his superior for all he knew… Though, given that the Kzin had addressed him as Sir, perhaps he was of a lower rank? Either way, there was no certainty to it, and Sylvain's mouth had already began yapping, forcing him to improvised without any opportunity to consider the options available. Always a disastrous result. “T-that that, would, indeed, not be very appropriate… Ah… Colleague…”

Speaking was almost painful, on account of both his self-embarrassment, his passive discomfort at just how close to being naked the Kzin was, the scalding flush upon his cheeks that burnt against his pale skin, and his desperate attempt to keep his mind shut to any wayward thoughts, precognitive or not. He was conscious that some Kzinti possessed telepathic abilities, and the absolute last thing that he needed was the Kzin intercepting some sort of wayward image of Sylvain’s wandering mind, and misconceiving it as an active thought; his abilities were allegedly a nightmare for telepaths and empaths as it was, let alone when he was quite so flustered. 

Immediately he forced the image of a beetroot into his mind, crunching into a raw beetroot as though it were an apple. He had heard a saying about Kzinti telepathy being disrupted by images of vegetables, and Sylvain considered that it might be worth a shot.

“Ah… I’m sorry if…” Sylvain began to turn back to the man to try and attain a more comfortable level of politeness as he spoke, craning his neck comically upwards in order to best avoid any chance of seeing more fur than he was comfortable with. He cleared his throat. “I… Ah…” It was surprisingly difficult to find words when one was picturing himself feasting on a beetroot, whilst simultaneously trying ridiculously hard not to think about anything else. “My choice of song was inopportune, and I- ah…” Sylvain let out a long breath of air that he’d been holding, and promptly turned around to face the doorway to the turbolift, his body strained so tightly that it was a good thing he was so close to sickbay; in this state, there was every chance that he’d accidentally snap his own spine.

“I’m really sorry…” He apologised again, his back now facing the Kzin and his eyes staring straight out into the, thankfully, deserted corridor. “I’m… Ah… A little uncomfortable with your lack of clothing…” He fumbled out in a single breath. “And I should mention, lest you think I’m some sort of degenerate… That, ah… That song is, actually, from a well-regarded piece of theatre, concerning a noteworthy historical period from the part of Earth where my mother grew up. It’s actually a really conscientious take on…”

Before he could descend into what would probably be a disturbingly unnecessary monologue about how the musical in question handled telling the stories of six important women whose impact on history had been reduced to just a few words in a whimsical rhyme, Sylvain acknowledged that highlighting such might be considered a jab at Kzinti culture. His understanding was that Kzinti had somewhat archaic attitudes towards gender.

“I… Wellthatdoesn’tmatter…” He raced, the words leaving his mouth in more of a jumble than a sentence, his mind still predominantly occupied with a war between a beetroot and the knowledge that there was a mostly naked Kzinti standing about a foot away from his back. “I… Ah…” His eyes had grown wider than a Saurian’s and his face as scarlet as a mug of blood wine, and he desperately wanted to retreat to a safe environment where he wouldn’t be putting his foot in his mouth every five seconds… Hitting himself in the face with a PADD, throwing a PADD at a wall, smiling like a deranged lunatic at a passing crewman, singing a lewd song in front of a Kzinti, if not half of sickbay, and finally, making such a fool of himself in a social situation, that the appropriate remedy might-well have been to bundle himself into an airlock…

Yes, he needed to return to his quarters… He had tasks to complete, lots of data to analyse… Not so many naked Kzinti there either…

“I… Ah… Should be heading to my quarters… Lots of beetroot to analyse before I… TACTICAL DATA!” He all but shouted as he attempted to correct himself, shocking himself with his own volume, and slapping a hand over his mouth so violently that it made an audible slapping sound within the turbolift. “I’m so sorry…” He murmured as he withdrew his hand, as mortified as he'd ever been. What he wouldn't give for a couple of subspace eddy's to navigate...

Somehow, Sylvain existed in a reality where a volatile subspace phenomenon was easier to navigate than a conversation... Though, in his own defense, this was a conversation with a nearly-naked, seven and a half foot tall feline... He was sure that had it been a Vulcan, he'd have faired far better. Assuming the Vulcan wasn't also almost naked, of course...

“I hope you can forgive my... Well..." He made a rather limp hand gesture to point to his own head, hoping that a visual cue would prevent him having to dwell too much on how much was going on inside his brain. "I only just arrived on board, and I’ve got to depart for some sort of dangerous, life-threatening, mission at fourteen-hundred hours, and I have an enormous amount of data to review before then, and frankly, I’m just-just a tiny bit overwhelmed, so you might not be getting the best impression of me…” He panted out in a monologue of words that kept him speaking so fast that he almost ran out of breath.

“I promise, I’ll make a much stronger impression after a tea, and, youknow, a little less impending doom…”

Worst of all, his desire to remove himself from the situation as soon as possible was suddenly hindered, and quite substantially so; he’d forgotten what deck his quarters were on.
96
Director's Cut / Re: [2374] USS Hamburg: Meditate on the Way of the Targ
Last post by JacenSoloDjo -
Archaeological Site Gamma | 2374 | Evac #47475 re: @Dumedion‍ 

Kath looked around herself, frowning. The coordinates were not ideal in the least. If anyone had wanted to ambush them, this would have been the perfect place to do it. She would have preferred better coordinates but she was not in charge of that. She did know that if she had been the one giving the coordinates she would have gotten her ass chewed out.

Her experience with Cardassian booby traps and IEDs made her suddenly stiffen. She shot out a hand as one of her younger counterparts, a Bajoran, started forward and all she could think about was No! Althan, Althan, Althan! Her grip was tighter than she meant as her fingers curled around their shoulder and yanked them back, making the poor Ensign grunt in pain. Of course they could all be forgiven for thinking they had been dropped into a spot that was completely safe (as subjective as the term could be in war).

"No," she hissed, then gestured with her rifle, releasing the young Ensign's arm at the same time without apology. As soon as she did, she heard a whistle that made her rifle snap up. Her eyes narrowed as they alighted upon two figures mostly in shadow from the ruins they stood inside. Just two? Kath had to wonder: was that all that remained by the time they could get here? As soon as her well-trained mind registered friendlies, her rifle lowered. But she did not stow it over her shoulder by the strap. No way, there was always the possibility of an attack by the Jem'Hadar (and later in life Kath would find herself suspicious of all acquaintances at first because Changeling meant doppelgänger).

"Well, at least we found what we were looking for and it wasn't a trap," NuQach noted. She was the last one to lower her rifle, eyes hard and ready for trouble. Kath nodded a little. At least.

Flexing her fingers around the barrel just ahead of the trigger guard and the pistol grip of the phaser rifle, she led the way forward-- taking point even if her rank would have afforded her the privilege of being towards the back. That was not how the Lieutenant Junior Grade operated. NuQach prowled at her right hand side, just a couple paces behind the war veteran. The Klingon hybrid kept her head on a swivel, her torso twisted to the side to sweep the area around them.

The three others with her and NuQach were two Ensigns (the earlier Bajoran, and the other Vulcan), and a Chief Petty Officer (Human) who took up the rear post watching out for their six. They were in general a ragtag bunch, and not the only group listed to head down to the surface once the full situation was figured out and reported on (in whatever way was available). They worked well together. Trained hard together. They were soldiers to match Kath's intensity as the Eternal Soldier of the Federation. Each taking everything just as seriously as she did, as hard as she did. In another timeline, they might be considered worthy of elite soldier status on the level of a Navy SEAL or Marine Special Ops.

The Lieutenant JG could see that the Trill was talking but could not parse the words as the group drew closer and away from their LZ. An eyebrow rose at the headshake as Kath's only real reaction. But Kath looked over as she heard NuQach hiss in frustration and did not see the Klingon hybrid roll her eyes.

<What?> Kath asked in Klingonese, voice low and coming out of one side of her mouth. But NuQach shook her head as they got within a proper distance of the two other Starfleet personnel. Kath herself felt frustration at her Klingon hybrid friend going tight-lipped. But then she glanced at the Trill, Kino and the Bolian, Grann. Brown eyes flicked to the ranks adhered to the uniforms the pair wore as her group filed into the ruins and out of the open. Her first instinct was to complain about the lack of proper coordinates in the SOS, but this NCO was not in charge of that, and even then things had been garbled. But it was still odd, and frustrating. Where was this group's orbital defense? What had happened? Where the fuck was everyone? They had expected to be dropped into a hot zone. To say the intel was apparently fucked up would be an understatement. But it was not Kath's first experience with shitty ass intel (which had meant that her time as SFI had meant she made extra sure she was pushing along the right stuff to the best of her knowledge and refused to suggest sending in a team without the right recon reports).

"I'm Lieutenant Katherine MacFarlane but y'can call me Kath or Mac for short. The giant mess to my right is Lieutenant NuQach. then basically hiding behind me is Ensign Asher No'a and yes that is in the correct naming convention, and we got Ensign Karatek as our token Vulcan, and Chief Petty Officer Adelaide Shevchenko," she introduced herself and her squad, nodding her head to each of her teammates in turn.

She politely waited for the returning introductions and nodded, all serious and intense and ready to be attacked by the enemy at any moment.

"Alright. Let's walk and talk sitrep, Petty Officer. And I have more than a few questions for your ranking officer, if they yet live," she stated while nodding her head over the younger Trill's shoulder, eyes directly on Kino, Kath's tone carefully neutral and her voice firm and all business. None of this was a Non-Com's fault, there would be no dressing down.

Kath's personality on the job was often at odds with the looser, gooser off-duty Kath and her friends were used to it by that point.
97
Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: USS Theurgy: What If...? A Winter Wonderland
Last post by Dumedion -
[Ens. Talia “Shadow” Al-Ibrahim | Type-11 Shuttlecraft René Descartes | Low Orbit | Theta Sigma VI] Attn: @AbsintheDeux @tongieboi @Juzzie
[Show/Hide]
Given the chance to breathe real air on a real planet under a real sun, even if some aspects of the weather were a tad undesirable, Shadow leapt at the first opportunity to jump ship – which took a bit longer than she’d liked – mostly due to Janus. Unlike her previous SCO on the Diamondback, the old man seemed to have a natural aversion to anything that even resembled paperwork; she’d chased him down more than once just to sign off on her flight logs – as if getting a signature from the man was like pulling teeth. The look on his face when she finally cornered him about her pass was funny, though: a scowl of confusion, as if he was surprised she’d even bothered to submit one for a few hours off-ship.

Talia smirked at the memory as she pulled the zipper up her back to seal herself in the form-fitting, insulated flight suit; black on gray and carbon fiber plated, it clung to her athletic body with tenacity – a full-body protective layer with a high collar that housed a retractable helm. She stood in the berthing compartment, her back to the cockpit, and took a moment to tie up her mane of dark hair.

“Have to say, y’never fail to impress,” Rawley drawled in her guttural Scottish accent from behind her, up in the cockpit. Talia knew without having to look that the fellow Wolf had been watching her change instead of flying the damn ship, but wasn’t the least bit surprised or bothered by it. Ghost was Ghost, and Shadow knew her well enough to know when she was just playing around. “Could watch that body o’yers all day, lass.”

Talia snorted without turning around. “Yeah, yeah, suits a little tight,” she shook her head. “I know. It’s supposed to be.”

“Gah, is it so hard t’take a bloody compliment? Fuck sakes,” Rawley grumbled; Talia could practically hear her eyes roll. “Sixty seconds. Shake a leg, princess.”

Talia smiled and shook her head again. Once her hair was secured, the pilot pulled on the five-point pack harness for her ruck, which was nearly as big as her chest, and cinched it down for the trip. Her heart-rate bumped up a notch, gloves flexed in anticipation. This is going to be awesome, Shadow grinned, then turned to find Rawley with her ass leaned against the ops console, still watching.

“Good tae see ye finally out and about, y’know,” the veteran Wolf grinned. “Was a’right bitch whe’ I firs’ met ye.”

Talia nodded and shrugged, but kept the dimpled grin in place. “You weren’t exactly an ideal ambassador, either. You should really work on those inspirational speeches, ace. ‘Welcome back, ye be fucked, have fun,’ - not exactly the way I’d have handled things,” she chuckled.

“Ah, well…got it all sorted in th’end, dinna we,” Rawley bounced her brows, then tilted her shaved head with a look of curiosity. “How’d ye talk yer way in tae this stunt anyway?”

Shadow shrugged with a look of feigned innocence. “I didn’t,” she grinned, then tapped a force-field into place with a laugh at Ghost’s expression. “Oh, come on – you’re just butt-hurt because you didn’t think of it.”

“Aye,” Rawley laughed. “Tha’ an’ Janus will throw me inna bloody brig with ye when he find us out.”

Talia had her doubts about that; if the old man could stand the cold, and if she’d told him what she’d planned, he’d probably be first in line to come along. Shadow had played things close to her chest though and left him and everyone else in the dark. Besides, he’s got paperwork to do, the pilot smirked.

Several beeps issued from the computer then, prompting Rawley to lift one butt cheek to glance at the console she was using as a chair nonchalantly. “Holdin’ station at tha’coordinates, 30 angels. Tha’s ye cue,” she snorted, then waved at the exit hatch. “Don’ go an freeze tha’ nooner off, now,” she chuckled.

"Hell yeah, let's do it," Talia pumped a fist as her helm snapped up around her head and tapped a command to depressurize the compartment, then tossed Ghost a lazy two fingered salute while the hatch lowered to reveal the endless curve of a bright blue-and-white world. “Later, ace,” the pilot chuckled without breaking stride as she walked towards it, and leapt head-first out into gravity’s embrace.

Despite the suit, her body instantly felt the chill – but by then, Talia’s adrenaline had spiked so high that it was easily ignored. The first ten seconds she focused on keeping her body relaxed and let gravity do it’s thing; over the roar of the wind in her ears, even with the helmet, her eyes took in the scenery while she accelerated. Speed and distance scrolled away on the glass surface shielding her face; if anyone had been listening, though, all they would have heard is her laughing like a maniac.

For two and a half minutes, Talia owned the sky.

[A short while later, near outskirts of Campsite Gamma]

She set down gentle enough, but didn’t account for the softness of the snow; her heels dug in, then slipped out from under her. Her ass dug a trench until the chute blew out, then caught the wind – which spun her about as it dragged her along for a few more feet. Talia hissed a curse and popped one of the risers and eventually came to a stop, half panting/half laughing at herself before she stretched her limbs out in the snow.

“Ah, that was fucking amazing,” Shadow roared with jubilation, as her whole body shook with adrenaline. “Who needs a damn transporter,” the pilot laughed, then sat up and slowly got to her feet. A hand slapped her shoulder to trigger the chute to auto-retract while she dropped the pack from its harness to land at her feet. Another tap at her throat stowed her helm which allowed the frigid air to instantly bite against her skin. “Whoo,” she breathed out, “shit that’s cold.”

Hands on her hips, Talia stood for a moment and took in the scenery – then slung her bag over one shoulder and set off towards the camp - boots crunching into the snow. If there wasn't heat, she knew getting that sorted was her top priority; the cold was quickly setting in, but her blood was still too pumped up to really care at the moment.

OOC - y'all feel free to visit and/or wreck her little vacay however. down to clown.
98
Director's Cut / Re: [2374] USS Hamburg: Meditate on the Way of the Targ
Last post by Dumedion -
[PO3 Kino Taer | J’rovia Reclusiam | 2374] Attn: @JacenSoloDjo

As far as Vulcan research centers went, Kino figured it was a nice enough place...for a Vulcan anyway. Hot, dry, only slightly irradiated – due to the immense output of the enormous red super-giant star which dominated the sky and also wreaked havoc on their communications – oh, and yeah, couldn’t forget the absolutely fascinating ruins that dotted the endless, flat-assed landscape around the main settlement for several dozen kilometers. Kino had fuck-all idea what they were, and couldn’t honestly give a shit, but they were important enough for the Vulcans to build a sizable colony around them; the very same center for higher education and research that the Jem’Hadar had pretty much leveled in less than a day.

Guess they never expected anyone would bring a war this close to their doorstep.

But they did – with ruthless efficiency – and by the time Kino found herself planetside, everything had already gone to shit. Close to twenty-five hundred civilians were massacred before Starfleet could even respond with a token relief group, which consisted of two teams of five security officers led by LT Kael’straz, a hard-nosed Andorian prick that Kino couldn’t stand but respected despite their differences. The man had a backbone of solid neutronium and knew his craft, but seemed to enjoy riding her ass more than anything. To say they didn’t get along was an understatement, but then again, Kino didn’t get along with most people; too much attitude – too much mouth. She spoke her mind and didn’t give a fuck what people thought, regardless what was on their collar.

The whole situation was fucked, and was rather telling of how the War was going as far as Kino was concerned; stuck on the defensive with no real plan of attack – it was like they were fighting just enough to fall back again. One didn’t need to be a Starfleet Academy graduate with a shiny piece of brass to know that wasn’t a winning strategy – not that anyone had asked her opinion on the matter. These were her thoughts, the ones that kept her persistently pissed off and even toxic to be around, despite the fact that she’d fight tooth and nail for the lives of every single one of her team-mates and the civvies she was duty-bound to protect -because at the end of the day, she’d signed up to save lives, and fight for the Federation, even if that same Federation proved nothing but a disappointment.

Better than sticking it out back home in a cell, I guess.

A sudden, shrill snore broke through her thoughts. Taer pulled back from her scope to glace at Garnn’s prone form, twitching in sleep. He’d only just laid down ten minutes ago, tucked into the shade of their concealed position high up on the topmost level of one of the few towers the Jems had left intact after another raid a few hours ago. From that vantage point, the two of them had nearly 360 degrees of observation of the entire complex – or what was left of it. Three other pairs had split off and positioned themselves in likewise hidden observation points at every cardinal direction; pulling security, but mostly waiting for the bastards to come in and finish them all off. It was all the LT’s call, of course - dig in, sit tight, wait for relief and reinforcement…

Yeah, right, Taer scoffed. Who’d be dumb enough to come down to this shithole for a handful of civvies?

“TOC, OP2,” Kino’s earpiece crackled with static, which forced her to wince on instinct. Speak of the devil, as Humans say, the Trill rolled her light-blue eyes. The Bolian at her side stirred and gripped his rifle tighter on instinct. Taer waved at him with her fingers over the scope of her own rifle, a gesture that told him to relax and stay down. “OP2, go,” she answered.

“Motion sensors tripped…ruins due north…anything?” LT Kael’s words were drowned with intermittent static, barely readable, but Kino got the gist. Probably just more local wildlife, she guessed, as everyone that could have been evacuated to the main research facility had been evacuated prior to the last raid; nothing remained in the ruins but corpses and mines.

“Stand-by TOC,” Taer answered as she pivoted her rifle and peered through the scope. Four hundred meters out, a dust devil wandered in the baked clay stretch between the outskirts of the main facility and the ruins; beyond that, the ruins themselves were a quartet of half toppled pyramids surrounding a fractured courtyard of salt-caked open ground. Kino had primed the few mines they could spare at every entrance there herself, once they’d found the handful of survivors. Through the scope, all she could make out through the dust was a heat-shimmered haze of ancient, rune covered rubble. “Negative contacts,” she reported.

“...subsurface tunnel and recon...want to be sure. Report...immediately,” Kael ordered, “...an order.”

This fucking guy, Kino grimaced. “Copy TOC. Moving,” she answered, then shook the Bolian awake. “Saddle up, brother - we got dumb shit to do,” she told him with a smirk.

[Archaeological Site Gamma | Five minutes later]

Kino and Grann rose out of the subterranean maglev via a lift from beneath the main pyramid, weapons up and scanning for threats. The interior of the structure was cool and damp, heavy with the dusty stench of old scrolls and rot, a cinnamon spice in the air that wasn’t quite noticeable but also wasn’t easily overlooked. They stalked to the entrance in overwatch, one bounding while the other covered. As soon as Kino peered out into the bright, red-tinted courtyard, she swore under her breath, while the Bolian huffed incredulously at her shoulder a second later.

“Guess the distress call finally got through the EM quakes,” Grann mused quietly.

“Guess so,” Kino whispered back, then jutted her chin at the team milling about in the square. “So, who’s gonna tell them they’re standing in the middle of a fucking minefield, huh?”

“Don’t mess around Taer – pull the plug and lets get back to the TOC,” Grann growled at her.

“Fine, fine,” the Trill snorted, slung her rifle, then pulled the tricorder from a pouch at her belt. As the Bolian stood from cover to edge out into the courtyard, the Trill remained, only looking up once the dozen or so mines in the area had been disarmed to stand-by mode. Grann issued a shrill whistle to get the newcomers attention, then waved them over inside the ruin. After stowing her tricorder, Kino brought her rifle back up to cover them – just in case any Jems decided to de-cloak and spoil the meet and greet. As they got closer, Kino couldn't help but shake her head in wry amusement.

"Welcome to the shitshow," she muttered under her breath.
99
Main OOC Board / Re: Main OOC Thread
Last post by JacenSoloDjo -
Sorry for double post but Kath has decided to bring the excitement of Free Climbing to the Holodeck and is inviting one and all to come crawl on things like monkeys in that magical Extra Dimension that is What If.

Everything from the previous post still applies, of course.

(As I mentioned before, it is almost High Holy Days season so I'm kinda tired Tuesday and Wednesday from it and then tuesdays and thursdays when school starts I have kiddos to educate.)
100
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 4 : Knock Knock! [Day 1 | 1800+]
Last post by Brutus -
[ Ens. Faye Lintah Eloi-Danvers | Habitation Hull Common Area  | Aft Recreational District | Erudite ] Attn: @Dumedion @TWilkins @Griff @RyeTanker @Ellen Fitz @Eirual @Tae @ob2lander961 @Eden @Sqweloookle 
[Show/Hide]

Rubbing her temples slightly, Faye Lintah Eloi-Danvers, Diplomatic Attaché,  paused in her efforts to work her way through the data on the PADD in her hand and look up at the other Starfleet officers milling about the common area. For the moment she was on her own, though she knew that sooner or later a certain Andorian Lieutenant would be back in her sphere of influence. That brought a soft smile to her lips, glad to be sharing rather cramped quarters with a familiar and comfortable face, unlike the slew of officers around her, many of whom she'd never really seen before this mission. She knew that most of them were paired up with people they didn't know for the duration of the mission, and was glad she'd been allowed to be a bit selfish. Small things, little comforts, but with the scope of what they were here to do, the Betazoid Ensign wasn't going to pass up every little bit of happiness and simple relief she could claw out.

The problem was that she could feel how on edge everyone else was. The anxiety and fear under the surface of every single interaction. She was far from the only one looking to grab a little fun while they could, though she wasn't actively up to that just now. That would come later. Sooner, she hoped. More than one card game in play, momentary spikes of delight and triumph flitted about the mental sea she swam in. And then there were the mischievous currents and eddies she picked up. So many of the crew had decided to take the opportunity to 'explore,' regardless of the orders they'd all been given to the contrary. That devil may care attitude, urge to know more...it too had the undercurrent of fear. No matter how much everyone tried to pretend otherwise.

Some better than others, Faye mused with half a smile, watching as two redshirted crew - one Ensign that damn near vibrated fear tempered by a desire not to seem afraid, and a non-comm woman clearly leading him on a little adventure, radiating her own waves of anticipatory subterfuge. Carrot top has no idea what he's getting himself into, she mused. She'd listened to Alistair's update just a few moments before, and in truth it was that, more than anything else, that kept her from focusing on her work. Not that she really had much work to do just then. Or would have work to do in the coming mission. Not exactly. Though again, she thought back to Zark's words earlier, the comfort she drew from them, and the feeling of purpose her friend's perspective had gifted her. Faye drew that in like a breath of fresh air, and settled herself back once more, contemplating Lt. Leavitt's announcement.

They had the night, essentially. Come morning, they would all be going to work. Come the morning, they'd reap the whirlwind.

Heads up folks: in 10 days time, August 19th, we'll be time jumping to the following morning to start the mission proper. Establish what your characters are up to over night; get those side quests rolling. Character deaths depend on how fast y'all reply...or don't ;)
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