==Thomas Linacre Hospital-Basingstoke-Hampshire-England, Intensive Care ward==
Arriving back in the intensive, Peter noticed that there was a doctor and nurse around his gran's bed, he knocked on the window to get there attention and following them looking around to see what the noise was the doctor exited the room.
"Ahh Commander Powell, we were just having a short talk about your grandmother and we think that it is time that we bring her around, so that we can see what long turn effects have been caused, please follow me"
Stepping back into the room, Peter moved to the far side of his gran, so that he could be close to her as she started to come around.
He watched as the nurse injected something into the neck area of his gran and, looking at the readings over the bed, even he could tell that she was starting to react to the medicine.
Gently taking her hand, Peter starting talking to her, so that when she did start to come around, she didn't get frightened about where she was.
"Gran it's me Peter, if you can hear me, try and squeeze my hand"
He was hoping for a lot, as they didn't know what movement she had and even something as simple as this might be too difficult for her, but it seemed that her hearing was coming back quicker than he thought, as he initially saw her twitch slightly, and then the pressure from her left hand changed and he felt her gently and gingerly squeezing his hand.
This was a brilliant sign, firstly that she was at least about to hear him, but also that there was some sort of life still inside, even if nothing else would improve.
It also seemed that the Doctor was also seeing the signs, he was switching between the computer read outs that was displayed above the bed and also the reactions coming from the patient herself and he also started to talk to her.
"Phyllis, I'm Doctor Wilmslow, your in hospital, your grandson found you at home and got you here, what I would like you to do for me please, is to open your eyes, can you do that for me please"
Again she could here him and slightly understand what she was being asked to do, so that section of her brain was working.
To Peter it seemed that there was hours of waiting for his gran to open her eyes, he watched as she struggled to do it, the muscles that were used to open the eye lids were working, but it looked like they were not strong enough to complete the task, but finally she was able to open them.
Peter moved slightly forwards, so that his gran could see him, he could see by the look in her eyes, that she was worried and scared and he supposed that there was a similar look in his eyes, even thought he tried to hide it, but after a few seconds they seemed to have relaxed abut, which to Peter indicted that she had recognised him.
"Hello gran" Peter said with a smile.
He hoped that this would also help relax a little more, but knew that either he or the Doctor would have to explain what had happened to her so that she wouldn't think about many things that could have happened.
"Phyllis, I know you might be able to answer this, but what is the last thing you remember" the Doctor asked.
Peter thought that it was a bit soon to be asking questions like that, especially as they weren't even sure if his gran could even talk yet, but he was the Doctor and Peter was confident that he knew what he was doing.
He's no Doc Brooks or mother, but I suspect that he is still a well endorsed name within his field
Looking at gran, Peter noticed that she was trying to move her mouth to form the words, but there was no sound coming out from her voice box, this brought a lump to his throat, as he started to think that she wouldn't be able to communicate verbally and it would be a touch computer and that would be if she had moveablilty with her arms, but that would be something that would be leant at a later date.
"Ok Phyllis, don't try and push it, it looks like you had a Cerebral hemorrhage and it looks like your grandson found you in good time, however over the next few days, we will be needing to run some tests to see exactly what has happened and what damage it has caused" the Doctor stated.
Peter was trying to keep his fear at bay, especially around gran, but it was hard, the look on his gran's face showed that's she understood some of what the doctor was saying, but the bits she didn't was scaring her. He knew that he would have to do some research to get things in basic terms so that he could explain to her later on, knowing what the medical side might entail his learning loads as well, he could build a warp core without really thinking about it, but things medical wasn't something which he really understood, he might even consider having a subspace conversation with his mother to get more details.
There seemed to be unspoken communication between himself and gran, every time they looked at each other. Peter could tell that her memory was effected, she seemed to know him, which helped him as well as he imagined it helped her.
Taking a seat which was beside the bed, he remained there while conversations were happening around them, during this whole time he never let go of his gran's hand, this was a two way thing, firstly for Peter so that he knew that his gran was still there and conscious, as every so often she would squeeze his hand, but also to help her try and keep some level of calmness, knowing that there was someone around that she could turn to.
After a good five minutes of conversation, Doctor Wilmslow turned back to Phyllis and started talking again, he started telling her about the things which would be happening over the rest of today, so that they could get a better understanding of what was happening inside her brain.
Peter had removed himself from the chair, so that he could see everything around him, he could tell by gran's face that like before there was a mixture of understanding and misunderstanding, but there wasn't the confusing like before, either things were becoming more clearer in her mind or because there was someone around her that she know and trusted, he couldn't tell, but after the Doc explained all this to her, Peter was relived when she nodded that she understood what was happening.
==More to come==
Earth - Specify location in post
Started by
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
, SD 21209.05@22:09
623 replies to this topic
#102
Lt Jack Regan {Fields}
-
- Retired Accounts
-
- 200 posts
Member
-
- Security Officer
- USS Reciprocity, ES-17413
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21310.04 @ 17:45 (05:45 PM)
== Arundel Castle, Southern England ==
To the north east of Arundel Castle and in the opposite direction to that Laura Macleod was facing her easel, a hovercar of some great age, though in pristine condition, sped along the tree-lined roadway. It passed Swanbourne Lake, where little tourist rowing boats bobbed under the spring sunshine, and snaked its way toward the picturesque small town and its overlooking Norman fortress. There was a conspicuous roar as the shiny red motorcar gracefully cornered the gentle bends of the roadway, breaking the spell of pastoral tranquillity on the lake, eventually turning not toward the town but to thunder upwards along the castle driveway that led to the magnificent Medieval stone complex.
In this corner of old England, there were enthusiasts who still maintained and drove classic vehicles from a bygone age, but this car was an unusual antique: an Aston Martin CC700 Speedster of the mid 22nd Century. The sound of the engine was more for show than it was necessary for propulsion. Quietness was not seen as a virtue at the time it was manufactured, and everything about it from design to colour was loud.
In the shadow of the castle, the vehicle slowed, turned onto the grass, and came to land gently on one of the well-kept lawns. For a moment the metal beast sat in silence and once more only the sound of birdsong was audible in the surroundings. That was before the driver gave three prolonged blasts on the car horn to disturb the peace once more.
== Tag Macleod ==
To the north east of Arundel Castle and in the opposite direction to that Laura Macleod was facing her easel, a hovercar of some great age, though in pristine condition, sped along the tree-lined roadway. It passed Swanbourne Lake, where little tourist rowing boats bobbed under the spring sunshine, and snaked its way toward the picturesque small town and its overlooking Norman fortress. There was a conspicuous roar as the shiny red motorcar gracefully cornered the gentle bends of the roadway, breaking the spell of pastoral tranquillity on the lake, eventually turning not toward the town but to thunder upwards along the castle driveway that led to the magnificent Medieval stone complex.
In this corner of old England, there were enthusiasts who still maintained and drove classic vehicles from a bygone age, but this car was an unusual antique: an Aston Martin CC700 Speedster of the mid 22nd Century. The sound of the engine was more for show than it was necessary for propulsion. Quietness was not seen as a virtue at the time it was manufactured, and everything about it from design to colour was loud.
In the shadow of the castle, the vehicle slowed, turned onto the grass, and came to land gently on one of the well-kept lawns. For a moment the metal beast sat in silence and once more only the sound of birdsong was audible in the surroundings. That was before the driver gave three prolonged blasts on the car horn to disturb the peace once more.
== Tag Macleod ==
#103
Posted Star Date 21310.14 @ 03:28 (03:28 AM)
==Pre-resignation of Character==
==Thomas Linacre Hospital-Basingstoke-Hampshire-England, Intensive Care ward==
The battery of tests which Peter watched his grandmother go through, were not as bad as he thought they might have been.
He would of course like for not to under go any sort of tests at all, he wanted his grandmother back to the way she was when he was growing up, but that was the past and now he had to accept what had happened and then deal with it.
Not really knowing what the tests were designed to do, Peter just hoped that it wouldn't take long to find out.
Thought out the whole testing, the Doctor only talked to his grandmother, informing her what they were going to do and what they needed her to do I order to find out what damage he been done.
==A few hours later==
With the tests all done and what Peter hoped with the answers, he waited for the Doctors to speak after they had reentered the bed area of his grandmother.
Addressing both his patient and Peter, Doctor Wilmslow started to explain what they had found after analysing the test which had been performed earlier.
"As you know, we did them earlier tests to see to what state your brain was in after your Cerebral haemorrhage, unfortunately due to the time frame from when you had your incident to when your grandson find you, the damage that has happened inside your brain couldn't be healed using our equipment. This means that you will have to do things which is old school techniques. We have determined that you are suffering from Dyspraxia of speech, which means that you will have trouble speaking and putting the sequencing the sounds in syllables and words." The Doc said.
It seemed to Peter that the look coming from the Doctor, that this wasn't the only thing which was wrong with gran and even though he didn't want to hear that there was worse things wrong, he know he had too and accept them
"We have also determined that you have been completely paralysed down your right hand side, it seems that the motor cortex in your brain which makes that side of your body work has been severely damaged and isn't working. There is also the possibility that you might also have damaged the area of your brain which controls your moods, we can't see any damage on the scan, however we have found that some patients have suffered moods swings after this sort of damage, this will surface over time, if it has happened." Wilmslow finished.
Peter hoped for both their sakes that this wasn't going to happen, him gran had never been the sort of person to really lose her temper or suffer from massive moods swings.
His turned and looked at his gran and saw that a tear had started to role down her face from her right eye, he hoped he understood what that meant, grabbing hold of a towel, he gently wiped the tear way and gave his gran a massive smile, hoping that it would help in a small way to help calm her down.
"Thank you Doctor, We are wondering if there is any sort of physiotherapy that can be done to help with either attempting to reverse some of the issues or to at least to not make things even worse." Peter asked.
As always Peter knew that the medical people would have already spoken to the relevant department about getting things started.
"Yes there is physiotherapy that can be done to help with these difficulties and I have already communicated with that department, your details and medical condition and they will be around either this afternoon or tomorrow morning to start things off. They will also assist in getting you house equipped with all the necessary things you will need for when you are ready to return home, but that won't be for a least a week or two, so we have plenty of time for that.
For the moment Phyllis, I would suggest that you try and get some rest, while I have a word here with your grandson." He answered.
The Doctor looked at Peter and without words indicated that he would wait out side the room for him.
"I will be back soon gran, I think I know what the Doctor wants to talk to me about" he said, before giving his gran a kiss on the forehead.
Exiting the room, he turned and waited for the Doctor to start talking.
"Commander Powell are you sure about what you said yesterday about being your gran's carer when she goes home?"
Doctor Wilmslow saw the look that Peter gave him, so he decided to explain why he was asking.
"The reason I am asking, is because it is going to take a lot of work to look after her, she will be confined to a motorised wheelchair and will probably need a computer interface in order to communicate, it will also be a twenty-four hour a day job, which means that you will have to resign your commission, which by your rank and uniform indicates that you have worked extremely hard to get and I would hate you to in a sense throw it all away." Wilmslow finished.
Peter knew that this would come up again, but he was determined to look after his gran, he had already figured that it wouldn't be a simple thing to do and yes, he would end up completely ending his StarFleet career, but his grandparents had sacrificed things in their lives when he came to live with them all those years ago and they had taken tremendous care of him as he grew up, now it was his turn to do the caring.
"I understand that Doctor and I AM going to be looking after my gran, she did it too me during my childhood and teenage years, so I have to return the favour." Peter answered.
Knowing that his mind was already made up, Doc Wilmslow didn't say anymore, just nodded and moved away.
Re-entering the room, Peter moved along side his gran and as she looked at him, he started talking again.
"The Doc just wanted to make sure that I understood some thing about what was going on and I promise you it was nothing Major, so don't worry. I will have to leave in a minute as visiting times are nearly up and I do need to make some calls. I will be back as soon as they will let me in, ok" he said.
He was sure that he saw a slight turn up at the corners off his gran's lips, which indicated that she was trying to smile, this nearly made him cry, but he was able to keep things together.
"I'll see you when I get back." Peter stated as again he leant forwards and kiss his gran's forehead.
Walking out of the room and down the corridor, his first port off call was to find out where Captain Hawk was in order to hand in his resignation, which would them give him time to collect all his person stuff from the Cop and also talk to Dan Brooks, but it would also give Hawk time to find a replacement for him, so that the Cop wouldn't be without a Chief during there next mission.
==More later==
==Thomas Linacre Hospital-Basingstoke-Hampshire-England, Intensive Care ward==
The battery of tests which Peter watched his grandmother go through, were not as bad as he thought they might have been.
He would of course like for not to under go any sort of tests at all, he wanted his grandmother back to the way she was when he was growing up, but that was the past and now he had to accept what had happened and then deal with it.
Not really knowing what the tests were designed to do, Peter just hoped that it wouldn't take long to find out.
Thought out the whole testing, the Doctor only talked to his grandmother, informing her what they were going to do and what they needed her to do I order to find out what damage he been done.
==A few hours later==
With the tests all done and what Peter hoped with the answers, he waited for the Doctors to speak after they had reentered the bed area of his grandmother.
Addressing both his patient and Peter, Doctor Wilmslow started to explain what they had found after analysing the test which had been performed earlier.
"As you know, we did them earlier tests to see to what state your brain was in after your Cerebral haemorrhage, unfortunately due to the time frame from when you had your incident to when your grandson find you, the damage that has happened inside your brain couldn't be healed using our equipment. This means that you will have to do things which is old school techniques. We have determined that you are suffering from Dyspraxia of speech, which means that you will have trouble speaking and putting the sequencing the sounds in syllables and words." The Doc said.
It seemed to Peter that the look coming from the Doctor, that this wasn't the only thing which was wrong with gran and even though he didn't want to hear that there was worse things wrong, he know he had too and accept them
"We have also determined that you have been completely paralysed down your right hand side, it seems that the motor cortex in your brain which makes that side of your body work has been severely damaged and isn't working. There is also the possibility that you might also have damaged the area of your brain which controls your moods, we can't see any damage on the scan, however we have found that some patients have suffered moods swings after this sort of damage, this will surface over time, if it has happened." Wilmslow finished.
Peter hoped for both their sakes that this wasn't going to happen, him gran had never been the sort of person to really lose her temper or suffer from massive moods swings.
His turned and looked at his gran and saw that a tear had started to role down her face from her right eye, he hoped he understood what that meant, grabbing hold of a towel, he gently wiped the tear way and gave his gran a massive smile, hoping that it would help in a small way to help calm her down.
"Thank you Doctor, We are wondering if there is any sort of physiotherapy that can be done to help with either attempting to reverse some of the issues or to at least to not make things even worse." Peter asked.
As always Peter knew that the medical people would have already spoken to the relevant department about getting things started.
"Yes there is physiotherapy that can be done to help with these difficulties and I have already communicated with that department, your details and medical condition and they will be around either this afternoon or tomorrow morning to start things off. They will also assist in getting you house equipped with all the necessary things you will need for when you are ready to return home, but that won't be for a least a week or two, so we have plenty of time for that.
For the moment Phyllis, I would suggest that you try and get some rest, while I have a word here with your grandson." He answered.
The Doctor looked at Peter and without words indicated that he would wait out side the room for him.
"I will be back soon gran, I think I know what the Doctor wants to talk to me about" he said, before giving his gran a kiss on the forehead.
Exiting the room, he turned and waited for the Doctor to start talking.
"Commander Powell are you sure about what you said yesterday about being your gran's carer when she goes home?"
Doctor Wilmslow saw the look that Peter gave him, so he decided to explain why he was asking.
"The reason I am asking, is because it is going to take a lot of work to look after her, she will be confined to a motorised wheelchair and will probably need a computer interface in order to communicate, it will also be a twenty-four hour a day job, which means that you will have to resign your commission, which by your rank and uniform indicates that you have worked extremely hard to get and I would hate you to in a sense throw it all away." Wilmslow finished.
Peter knew that this would come up again, but he was determined to look after his gran, he had already figured that it wouldn't be a simple thing to do and yes, he would end up completely ending his StarFleet career, but his grandparents had sacrificed things in their lives when he came to live with them all those years ago and they had taken tremendous care of him as he grew up, now it was his turn to do the caring.
"I understand that Doctor and I AM going to be looking after my gran, she did it too me during my childhood and teenage years, so I have to return the favour." Peter answered.
Knowing that his mind was already made up, Doc Wilmslow didn't say anymore, just nodded and moved away.
Re-entering the room, Peter moved along side his gran and as she looked at him, he started talking again.
"The Doc just wanted to make sure that I understood some thing about what was going on and I promise you it was nothing Major, so don't worry. I will have to leave in a minute as visiting times are nearly up and I do need to make some calls. I will be back as soon as they will let me in, ok" he said.
He was sure that he saw a slight turn up at the corners off his gran's lips, which indicated that she was trying to smile, this nearly made him cry, but he was able to keep things together.
"I'll see you when I get back." Peter stated as again he leant forwards and kiss his gran's forehead.
Walking out of the room and down the corridor, his first port off call was to find out where Captain Hawk was in order to hand in his resignation, which would them give him time to collect all his person stuff from the Cop and also talk to Dan Brooks, but it would also give Hawk time to find a replacement for him, so that the Cop wouldn't be without a Chief during there next mission.
==More later==
#104
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21310.21 @ 18:11 (06:11 PM)
==Unspecific location, Earth==
==After the current mission==
The shuttle ride had gone fairly well, and was mostly private for Cleo and Johnny, being just them and the pilot on the journey. They had plenty of time alone, which eased some of her nervous feelings about returning home. She was pacing as the approached, dressed in her usual black tunic top and black stretchy pants and boots. Her braided pony tail swooshed back and forth as she walked the floor, mumbling to herself.
Maybe I should have picked a quieter place for us...
The shuttlecraft landed, and she took a deep breath before stepping off, and smiled as some of the officers gave her a bazaar look. Her tattooed body still drew attention, but what made her laugh the most was when Johnny stepped out behind her and they looked like a matching pair. People outside the ship that didn’t know them rarely approached the pair, which made Cleo feel more at ease.
Look at him...I wonder if he knows how much I love him...
She smiled at Johnny, staring at him in the bright sunshine, eyes glowing with love. She wasn't a naturally expressive person, from a young age she was taught to never show a weakness. But it had to stop, she had a plan to bring peace to her life for good.
“Over here Cleo.” A familiar voice called, her eyes soon focused on Zenon, leaning against a hover car. He had his top hat and shades on, to protect his pale skin and light sensitive eyes, but his antenna still stuck out through two handmade holes in his hat. A long trench coat hid the tattoos that scrolled his body, along with his rugged Gypsy clothes that would draw too much attention.
Uh oh...well he doesn't look angry...
She smiled and walked over to him, he paused a moment then pulled her into a tight hug. Her eyes widened in shocked but then she laughed and hugged him back, giving him a pat on the back as she let go.
“Did you get my message?” She asked cautiously, backing up a few steps.
He laughed, “Yes I did, Inya*. I know you meant well.” She saw a pale eyebrow raise and could imagine the flat look he was giving her. Then he leaned around her to get a look at Johnny, then looked back at Cleo, “Is that him?”
“His name is Johnny and yes,” She leaned in, “what do you think?”
He pulled down his shades a moment, pink eyes revealed a moment to look at Johnny then at Cleo again, shrugging he said, “I liked Theo, but this one seems to be more your type and more able to fit in with the family.”
She chuckled, and shook her head, “I'll just take that as approval.”
She waited for Johnny to come closer, “Johnny this is Zenon, my best friend and brother.”
Zenon tipped his head to Johnny casually, then started opening doors to let them load the bags. She turned to Johnny smiling, hoping nothing he saw would change anything between them. She would try her best to end what had started years before, but it wasn't going to be an easy or a popular decision. Her mind was heavy with thoughts and plans when she turned to Johnny.
“Ready?” She asked before they got in, “We'll take the car as far as we can, then we'll have to walk.” She forced a grin, but he'd know her well enough to know that behind her eyes was worry and stress, but she wasn't ready to talk about it.
==Tag Johnny==
Gypsy-*Sister
==After the current mission==
The shuttle ride had gone fairly well, and was mostly private for Cleo and Johnny, being just them and the pilot on the journey. They had plenty of time alone, which eased some of her nervous feelings about returning home. She was pacing as the approached, dressed in her usual black tunic top and black stretchy pants and boots. Her braided pony tail swooshed back and forth as she walked the floor, mumbling to herself.
Maybe I should have picked a quieter place for us...
The shuttlecraft landed, and she took a deep breath before stepping off, and smiled as some of the officers gave her a bazaar look. Her tattooed body still drew attention, but what made her laugh the most was when Johnny stepped out behind her and they looked like a matching pair. People outside the ship that didn’t know them rarely approached the pair, which made Cleo feel more at ease.
Look at him...I wonder if he knows how much I love him...
She smiled at Johnny, staring at him in the bright sunshine, eyes glowing with love. She wasn't a naturally expressive person, from a young age she was taught to never show a weakness. But it had to stop, she had a plan to bring peace to her life for good.
“Over here Cleo.” A familiar voice called, her eyes soon focused on Zenon, leaning against a hover car. He had his top hat and shades on, to protect his pale skin and light sensitive eyes, but his antenna still stuck out through two handmade holes in his hat. A long trench coat hid the tattoos that scrolled his body, along with his rugged Gypsy clothes that would draw too much attention.
Uh oh...well he doesn't look angry...
She smiled and walked over to him, he paused a moment then pulled her into a tight hug. Her eyes widened in shocked but then she laughed and hugged him back, giving him a pat on the back as she let go.
“Did you get my message?” She asked cautiously, backing up a few steps.
He laughed, “Yes I did, Inya*. I know you meant well.” She saw a pale eyebrow raise and could imagine the flat look he was giving her. Then he leaned around her to get a look at Johnny, then looked back at Cleo, “Is that him?”
“His name is Johnny and yes,” She leaned in, “what do you think?”
He pulled down his shades a moment, pink eyes revealed a moment to look at Johnny then at Cleo again, shrugging he said, “I liked Theo, but this one seems to be more your type and more able to fit in with the family.”
She chuckled, and shook her head, “I'll just take that as approval.”
She waited for Johnny to come closer, “Johnny this is Zenon, my best friend and brother.”
Zenon tipped his head to Johnny casually, then started opening doors to let them load the bags. She turned to Johnny smiling, hoping nothing he saw would change anything between them. She would try her best to end what had started years before, but it wasn't going to be an easy or a popular decision. Her mind was heavy with thoughts and plans when she turned to Johnny.
“Ready?” She asked before they got in, “We'll take the car as far as we can, then we'll have to walk.” She forced a grin, but he'd know her well enough to know that behind her eyes was worry and stress, but she wasn't ready to talk about it.
==Tag Johnny==
Gypsy-*Sister
#105
Posted Star Date 21310.29 @ 00:51 (12:51 AM)
== Arundel Castle, Southern England ==
It took a while before the noise of the approaching vehicle seeped into Laura's awareness. As was not unusual when she was doing anything that didn't completely dominate her thoughts, her mind had wandered into a pleasant daydream and she had begun to sing to herself. Fortunately for Shadow and anyone else to whom her voice carried, she sang beautifully and the lilting melody fit perfectly with a peaceful day in the country.
Finally she could ignore the noise no longer and ceasing her own, crossed the tower to see what the commotion was about. "What on Earth?! It's a car of some sort Shadow... maybe they should get the engine looked at."
The horn sounded loudly three times, making Laura jump. "Good grief, what are they thinking? It's alright Shadow."
She sent calming waves to her Betazoid cat, but needn't have bothered since she was more ruffled by the interruption than her pet.
Assuming it must be a friend of the family she shook her head and would have returned to her work if it wasn't for her cat. The little black menace jumped to her feet and made a happy little brurp before taking off down the castle steps.
"No! Shadow stop!" The doctor raced after her, intent on preserving the antiques within.
~ Shadow I said stop! You know you're not allowed to go running around in here and you will not like where you'll be staying the next time I come here!~ she continued telepathically, muttering under her breath, "If they ever invite me back."
There was of course no way that Laura could keep up with the lithe bundle of fur, but she was fit and healthy and made it all the way out into the grounds without becoming the least bit hot or bothered.
She was just in time to see Shadow streak past a rather ruffled butler and jump up onto the bonnet of the car.
Laura slowed down as the aging domestic addressed the driver through the window of the vehicle, in what she could tell was less than friendly terms, while Shadow placed a soft paw on the windscreen and began to howl.
~ Shadow stop being naughty, come here at once! ~ It did no good and it began to dawn on the doctor that her feline was happy, which suggested that she knew the owner of the vehicle. Well it can't be Charlie or one of the family...
The sun was shining on the car in a way that meant Macleod couldn't see who was in it. She approached slowly, not sure she wanted to get in the middle of whatever was going on but somehow feeling she couldn't avoid it.
== tag Jack, sorry for the wait ==
It took a while before the noise of the approaching vehicle seeped into Laura's awareness. As was not unusual when she was doing anything that didn't completely dominate her thoughts, her mind had wandered into a pleasant daydream and she had begun to sing to herself. Fortunately for Shadow and anyone else to whom her voice carried, she sang beautifully and the lilting melody fit perfectly with a peaceful day in the country.
Finally she could ignore the noise no longer and ceasing her own, crossed the tower to see what the commotion was about. "What on Earth?! It's a car of some sort Shadow... maybe they should get the engine looked at."
The horn sounded loudly three times, making Laura jump. "Good grief, what are they thinking? It's alright Shadow."
She sent calming waves to her Betazoid cat, but needn't have bothered since she was more ruffled by the interruption than her pet.
Assuming it must be a friend of the family she shook her head and would have returned to her work if it wasn't for her cat. The little black menace jumped to her feet and made a happy little brurp before taking off down the castle steps.
"No! Shadow stop!" The doctor raced after her, intent on preserving the antiques within.
~ Shadow I said stop! You know you're not allowed to go running around in here and you will not like where you'll be staying the next time I come here!~ she continued telepathically, muttering under her breath, "If they ever invite me back."
There was of course no way that Laura could keep up with the lithe bundle of fur, but she was fit and healthy and made it all the way out into the grounds without becoming the least bit hot or bothered.
She was just in time to see Shadow streak past a rather ruffled butler and jump up onto the bonnet of the car.
Laura slowed down as the aging domestic addressed the driver through the window of the vehicle, in what she could tell was less than friendly terms, while Shadow placed a soft paw on the windscreen and began to howl.
~ Shadow stop being naughty, come here at once! ~ It did no good and it began to dawn on the doctor that her feline was happy, which suggested that she knew the owner of the vehicle. Well it can't be Charlie or one of the family...
The sun was shining on the car in a way that meant Macleod couldn't see who was in it. She approached slowly, not sure she wanted to get in the middle of whatever was going on but somehow feeling she couldn't avoid it.
== tag Jack, sorry for the wait ==
#106
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21310.29 @ 16:44 (04:44 PM)
==Unspecific location, Earth==
==After the current mission==
The shuttle ride for Cleo and Johnny had been great. It was quiet and uneventful, something neither of them were used to. Johnny was kicked back in the rear cabin with his boots propped up on a small stool. His jeans were cuffed around the bottom of his military style boots, and his white t-shirt and black leather jacket complimented the rest of his usual off duty attire. He watched Cleo pace the floor with a smile on his face.
He felt the shuttle craft land and excitedly Johnny stood up and followed Cleo to the door, still letting eyes wander up and down and she moved ahead of him.
Perfect
Johnny smiled at Cleo and she back at him. It was painfully obvious that they were in love, and it was to the point where they couldn't hide it anymore. The sun was bright when it hit Johnny's blue eyes and he slid on his sunglasses to block the rays. He kissed Cleo on the forehead and then heard her name. Johnny stayed back as Cleo talked to a very interesting looking man, that looked somewhat familiar to him. He waited till Cleo waved him over and then he approached.
“Johnny this is Zenon, my best friend and brother.”
"Howdy" replied Johnny in his usual southern accent.
Zenon nodded and opened the cargo area and Johnny who was known to pack light tossed in his one bag and then helped Cleo with hers.
Ready?” She asked before they got in, “We'll take the car as far as we can, then we'll have to walk.”
"These boots are made for walking" said Johnny as he raised an eyebrow. "Are you ok???"
==TAG==
==After the current mission==
The shuttle ride for Cleo and Johnny had been great. It was quiet and uneventful, something neither of them were used to. Johnny was kicked back in the rear cabin with his boots propped up on a small stool. His jeans were cuffed around the bottom of his military style boots, and his white t-shirt and black leather jacket complimented the rest of his usual off duty attire. He watched Cleo pace the floor with a smile on his face.
He felt the shuttle craft land and excitedly Johnny stood up and followed Cleo to the door, still letting eyes wander up and down and she moved ahead of him.
Perfect
Johnny smiled at Cleo and she back at him. It was painfully obvious that they were in love, and it was to the point where they couldn't hide it anymore. The sun was bright when it hit Johnny's blue eyes and he slid on his sunglasses to block the rays. He kissed Cleo on the forehead and then heard her name. Johnny stayed back as Cleo talked to a very interesting looking man, that looked somewhat familiar to him. He waited till Cleo waved him over and then he approached.
“Johnny this is Zenon, my best friend and brother.”
"Howdy" replied Johnny in his usual southern accent.
Zenon nodded and opened the cargo area and Johnny who was known to pack light tossed in his one bag and then helped Cleo with hers.
Ready?” She asked before they got in, “We'll take the car as far as we can, then we'll have to walk.”
"These boots are made for walking" said Johnny as he raised an eyebrow. "Are you ok???"
==TAG==
#107
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21310.29 @ 18:00 (06:00 PM)
Cleo smiled at Johnnys witty comment, he always seemed to throw them in just at the right time to make her smile. His eyebrow went up, and she knew the jig was up, but she wanted to talk to him alone.
"Are you ok???"
She walked close to him, looking up at him while placing the palms of her hands on his chest. She remembered her chat with Theo days ago in the holodeck on Alpha, how she had realized just how much Johnny loved her.
She smiled at Johnny, eyes drinking in his face before speaking softly, "Yes, I just need to talk to you tonight...alone. It's very important." She was now pressed against him, which was turning into torture. "Trust me, I need you to trust me when we talk..."
"Cleo?" Zenon called, holding the drivers door open, staring at them impatiently.
She looked at Zenon, gave him a scowl then looked back at Johnny, "Later, I promise, love." She kissed him on the cheek and shook her head at Zenon as she walked toward the car.
Zenon drove, tucking his tall body into the drivers seat, Cleo took the passenger seat and that left the back for Johnny. Zenon pulled a bottle from under his seat and tossed it to Cleo, without even looking. She caught it, catlike reflexes as always, then read the label smiling. It was her favorite kind of rum, and she made an odd expression, to which Zenon gave her a sideways glance. She passed it to Johnny, smiling and flashing him a wink.
“Zenon is kind of a pilot slash tinkerer slash...”
“Freak of nature..” Zenon interjected, and they both laughed.
She winked at Johnny again, “Better hold on love.”
The hover car was modified, or in other terms “pimped out” with all the latest gadgets and lights, Zenons own creation. It wasn't really road legal, but they'd have to catch them to actually tell them that. She took the bottle back just as the car kicked into gear and flew over the road, but she was so use to it that it didn't cause her to spill a drop. She tucked it in-between her legs, hoping they wouldn't notice that she hadn't had a sip.
“Uh oh...” Zenon pointed behind them, where a cop struggled to keep up with them.
Cleo turned to look, smirking as she looked back at him, “Should we pull over?”
They both laughed, as he reached down to open a compartment beside the gear shift and pull a red lever back. The car jerked into a hyper speed, one the car had been modified to do in a auto pilot, which gave him time to grab the bottle from Cleo and take a long swig, as the car jerked through traffic rapidly.
“Think we lost them?” Zenon said over the engine, and Cleo gave him a nod, then laughed almost maliciously.
The car made a whining noise as it shifted into a still fast pace, and Zenon took the wheel again. Cleo had passed the bottle to Johnny again, starting to recognize some of her surroundings she knew they'd be there soon. She grabbed her shoulder bag in the floor, unbuckling a moment to pull it over her shoulder. She tucked the rum bottle into her backpack and held it in her lap.They pulled onto a road with trees on either side, and it looked like they were going into a dark tunnel. The road ended and Zenon pulled the car over, getting out swiftly and tossing his hat and shades into his seat. His pale skin, stark white hair and pink eyes now in clear view.
I warned Johnny about these people but I wonder what he will really think....
She turned her left wrist over and looked at the number, 119, it was a permanent reminder of who she was, yet she was determined to fight it now. The cop that had branded her as a child actually smiled as he burned it into her flesh, remarking about “their kind of filth”. They had stood in line for days to register, just as they had done for centuries, it was the only way they were allowed to visit the major cities. Things had calmed down since she had grown up, but most of the law still saw them as scum, yet Cleo couldn't blame them in a way. If she hadn't lived the life she wouldn't know the truth, most of them were misunderstood and abandoned.
I only care about peace now...
She realized she had been standing in one spot staring out into the forest for a few minutes, and turned back to the guys, who had unloaded the car in her mental absence.
“We'll send Will or Eric to get most of this, just grab what you can carry a long distance.”
The car ride was a deception, they would still have to walk deep into the forest. Zenon came round the car carrying something, smiling slightly. He tossed it to her lightly, which she immediately caught, and knew by the weight what it was. She slid her sword from the sheath and look at it closely, eyes following the inscription.
“Welcome back Inya.” Zenon said, grabbing one of Cleo's bags in one hand and heading into the treeline.
“Yeah...” She whispered, eyes still on the sword. She then slid it back into the sheath and strapped it to her tightly. She grabbed her backpack and put it on her back, eyes finding Johnny again.
“Ready?” She walked close to him, smiling as she looked deep into his eyes. “I hope you're feeling energetic.” She kissed him softly, then turned to follow Zenon into the woods.
==Tag Johnny. Sorry for the novel hehe==
"Are you ok???"
She walked close to him, looking up at him while placing the palms of her hands on his chest. She remembered her chat with Theo days ago in the holodeck on Alpha, how she had realized just how much Johnny loved her.
She smiled at Johnny, eyes drinking in his face before speaking softly, "Yes, I just need to talk to you tonight...alone. It's very important." She was now pressed against him, which was turning into torture. "Trust me, I need you to trust me when we talk..."
"Cleo?" Zenon called, holding the drivers door open, staring at them impatiently.
She looked at Zenon, gave him a scowl then looked back at Johnny, "Later, I promise, love." She kissed him on the cheek and shook her head at Zenon as she walked toward the car.
Zenon drove, tucking his tall body into the drivers seat, Cleo took the passenger seat and that left the back for Johnny. Zenon pulled a bottle from under his seat and tossed it to Cleo, without even looking. She caught it, catlike reflexes as always, then read the label smiling. It was her favorite kind of rum, and she made an odd expression, to which Zenon gave her a sideways glance. She passed it to Johnny, smiling and flashing him a wink.
“Zenon is kind of a pilot slash tinkerer slash...”
“Freak of nature..” Zenon interjected, and they both laughed.
She winked at Johnny again, “Better hold on love.”
The hover car was modified, or in other terms “pimped out” with all the latest gadgets and lights, Zenons own creation. It wasn't really road legal, but they'd have to catch them to actually tell them that. She took the bottle back just as the car kicked into gear and flew over the road, but she was so use to it that it didn't cause her to spill a drop. She tucked it in-between her legs, hoping they wouldn't notice that she hadn't had a sip.
“Uh oh...” Zenon pointed behind them, where a cop struggled to keep up with them.
Cleo turned to look, smirking as she looked back at him, “Should we pull over?”
They both laughed, as he reached down to open a compartment beside the gear shift and pull a red lever back. The car jerked into a hyper speed, one the car had been modified to do in a auto pilot, which gave him time to grab the bottle from Cleo and take a long swig, as the car jerked through traffic rapidly.
“Think we lost them?” Zenon said over the engine, and Cleo gave him a nod, then laughed almost maliciously.
The car made a whining noise as it shifted into a still fast pace, and Zenon took the wheel again. Cleo had passed the bottle to Johnny again, starting to recognize some of her surroundings she knew they'd be there soon. She grabbed her shoulder bag in the floor, unbuckling a moment to pull it over her shoulder. She tucked the rum bottle into her backpack and held it in her lap.They pulled onto a road with trees on either side, and it looked like they were going into a dark tunnel. The road ended and Zenon pulled the car over, getting out swiftly and tossing his hat and shades into his seat. His pale skin, stark white hair and pink eyes now in clear view.
I warned Johnny about these people but I wonder what he will really think....
She turned her left wrist over and looked at the number, 119, it was a permanent reminder of who she was, yet she was determined to fight it now. The cop that had branded her as a child actually smiled as he burned it into her flesh, remarking about “their kind of filth”. They had stood in line for days to register, just as they had done for centuries, it was the only way they were allowed to visit the major cities. Things had calmed down since she had grown up, but most of the law still saw them as scum, yet Cleo couldn't blame them in a way. If she hadn't lived the life she wouldn't know the truth, most of them were misunderstood and abandoned.
I only care about peace now...
She realized she had been standing in one spot staring out into the forest for a few minutes, and turned back to the guys, who had unloaded the car in her mental absence.
“We'll send Will or Eric to get most of this, just grab what you can carry a long distance.”
The car ride was a deception, they would still have to walk deep into the forest. Zenon came round the car carrying something, smiling slightly. He tossed it to her lightly, which she immediately caught, and knew by the weight what it was. She slid her sword from the sheath and look at it closely, eyes following the inscription.
“Welcome back Inya.” Zenon said, grabbing one of Cleo's bags in one hand and heading into the treeline.
“Yeah...” She whispered, eyes still on the sword. She then slid it back into the sheath and strapped it to her tightly. She grabbed her backpack and put it on her back, eyes finding Johnny again.
“Ready?” She walked close to him, smiling as she looked deep into his eyes. “I hope you're feeling energetic.” She kissed him softly, then turned to follow Zenon into the woods.
==Tag Johnny. Sorry for the novel hehe==
#108
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21310.30 @ 14:28 (02:28 PM)
She walked close to him, looking up at him while placing the palms of her hands on his chest and Johnny put his tattooed covered hands on hers. He smiled the smile that only she got to see.
"Yes, I just need to talk to you tonight...alone. It's very important." She was now pressed against him, which was turning into torture. "Trust me, I need you to trust me when we talk..."
Johnny closed his eyes as Cleo's body was against his and she spoke.
"Of course I trust you. You are one of the five people that I do trust..." said Johnny as he eased Cleo back her shoulders so he could look her in the eyes.
"Cleo?" Zenon called, holding the drivers door open, staring at them impatiently.
She looked at Zenon, gave him a scowl then looked back at Johnny, "Later, I promise, love." She kissed him on the cheek and shook her head at Zenon as she walked toward the car.
Johnny chuckled at the mans impatience as he jumped in the back seat. Johnny was a large guy so it took him a few seconds to get his legs situated in the back seat comfortably, he was so cramped he didn't notice Cleo passing him a bottle.
“Zenon is kind of a pilot slash tinkerer slash...”
“Freak of nature..” Zenon interjected, and they both laughed.
She winked at Johnny again, “Better hold on love.”
Johnny took a long swig out of the bottle and discovered it was rum. Definitely not Johnny's favorite drink but as he watched the speeds of the car slowly climb he took another swig and smiled as he passed the bottle back up to the front.
"I'll be fine."
“Uh oh...” Zenon pointed behind them, where a cop struggled to keep up with them.
Johnny looked back as well. The cop did not seem to be gaining ground.
Cleo turned to look, smirking as she looked back at him, “Should we pull over?”
They both laughed, as he reached down to open a compartment beside the gear shift and pull a red lever back. The car jerked into a hyper speed, one the car had been modified to do in a auto pilot, which gave him time to grab the bottle from Cleo and take a long swig, as the car jerked through traffic rapidly. Johnny sat in the back of the car calm and collected he had plenty of experience avoiding cops at very high speeds, though he was partial to motorcycles.
“Think we lost them?” Zenon said over the engine, and Cleo gave him a nod, then laughed almost maliciously.
"Not bad Zenon, but I thought only little girls used auto pilot" said Johnny with a smile.
The car slowed and Johnny took in some of the country side and more rum. It was beautiful and it reminded him of the rolling hills of Tennesee. They soon came to a stop and all parties exited the vehicle. Zenon finally exposed his white hair and pink eyes which didn't even make Johnny flinch. When he was running illegal weapons for his father he encountered all walks of life. Zenon felt normal to him. He walked over to the baggage compartment and began unloading their bags. Johnny dug through his bags and found his old leather belt that he always wore back home. On one side of the belt was an old ka-bar knife and the other had highly modified disrupter that looked like an ancient Colt 1911. Blade's father had made it for him and it was highly illegal on most planets. It was a pain to get it on and off the Sheridan but this was a special trip. Blade slung the belt and weapons from his waist and turned to see Cleo with her sword.
“Ready?” She walked close to him, smiling as she looked deep into his eyes. “I hope you're feeling energetic.” She kissed him softly, then turned to follow Zenon into the woods.
"Let's do this" he said quickening his pace and slapping Cleo on the *** as he walked by turning and smiling.
==Tag
==
#109
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21310.30 @ 15:51 (03:51 PM)
Cleo chuckled as Johnny slapped her ***, it was something he often did and she had grown fond of it. There wasn't really anything about him that she didn't like, except his occasion tendency to snore, but only when he was really tired from a shift.
Then I want to strangle him...
She smiled to herself and watched him walking, wondering what he'd be like as a father. She knew he'd protect they're daughter like Cleo would. The little girl would be loved, and shown how to defend herself. Her heart ached to see her mother, tell her about the child and have a celebration.
For now nobody can know...Zenon already suspects something...I have to talk to Johnny...I can't lose him but I just hope he lets me do what I have to...
The image of the child was burned into her mind now, she couldn't have been more than two years old in the vision, toddling toward Cleo with a smile. It made her smile to herself again, and comforted her against the worry she had been feeling.
Lorelei...thats the name I called...like that song my mom use to sing..
==Zenon==
Zenon didn't say much along the way, he was too busy doing his usual job of being Cleo's bodyguard. He scanned the trees around them, listening even when he wasn't looking in any certain direction. He looked over at Cleo, he could tell she was thinking about something, she always bit her lip when she was deep in thought. He had seen her looking at her wrist brand, and pulled his sleeve up to look at his. He had been adopted and as such had to be registered, but he was older than Cleo when she had hers, and right after she had lost her father.
F*cking police...
He pulled his sleeve down over it again and looked at Cleo, even flustered and stressed she was beautiful. She walked like she was floating, elegant and graceful, her hair hung lose now but he could tell she had braided it recently from the wave that still clung to her locks.
Whatever are you thinking about Cleo?
He then looked at Johnny, but quickly looked back into the forest when he heard leaves move, he saw Cleo stop and he knew she heard it too. She looked over to him, hand signaling to him and Johnny to keep an eye out behind them.
He looked over to see Cleo laying her sword on the ground, “Mani naa lle umien?*”
“Uuma dela**” She whispered to him, standing back up to speak out into the forest, “Amin merna quen!”
It was silent so she repeated in English, “I wish to speak!”
“Do you surrender?” A voice echoed, and Zenon met eyes with Cleo and they both laughed.
“Will..” They said in sync, and it was obvious they knew the voice, and didn't find it threatening.
“Never!” Cleo called and from around them seven men sprung out from cover, walking toward them with swords drawn.
Johnny had a weapon, so Zenon pulled his sword and took a defensive stance. He didn't smile a full smile, he rarely did that, but a half grin was on his face.
Leave it to them to ambush us...
Cleo had her sword in hand within seconds, and most of the men seemed to want to take her on, the strays sparred with Zenon and went for Johnny. He watched out for Cleo, but she didn't need any help, her movements were quick and precise. There was a draw between most of them, and while they caught their breath they watched Will and Cleo sparring.
“Give up yet?” Will taunted, and Cleo laughed.
“I admit a tie and nothing else...” Cleo remarked and Will grabbed her into a hug. She turned immediately, he saw concern cross her eyes, until she saw Johnny was alright and then she smiled. Her expression turned, she paused a moment to put the back of her hand against her mouth as if she were about to be sick.
“You alright Cleo?” Zenon moved closer to her, and watched her pull her hand down and try to act casual.
“Yeah yeah...Will..we left our things at the car, would you please get them for us?” Cleo immediately changed the subject, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
She's up to something....she thinks I won't figure out that something is going on?
Zenon stepped back and let them talk as he sidled up to Johnny, “Is she ok? She's never ill..and in the car she didn't drink...” He sounded worried, no matter how hard he tried he knew something was going on.
Furthermore he looks familiar...I wonder if he knew me as a child...before I was traded to the Gypsy's..
==Tag Johnny==
Gypsy-*What are you doing?
** Don't worry
Then I want to strangle him...
She smiled to herself and watched him walking, wondering what he'd be like as a father. She knew he'd protect they're daughter like Cleo would. The little girl would be loved, and shown how to defend herself. Her heart ached to see her mother, tell her about the child and have a celebration.
For now nobody can know...Zenon already suspects something...I have to talk to Johnny...I can't lose him but I just hope he lets me do what I have to...
The image of the child was burned into her mind now, she couldn't have been more than two years old in the vision, toddling toward Cleo with a smile. It made her smile to herself again, and comforted her against the worry she had been feeling.
Lorelei...thats the name I called...like that song my mom use to sing..
==Zenon==
Zenon didn't say much along the way, he was too busy doing his usual job of being Cleo's bodyguard. He scanned the trees around them, listening even when he wasn't looking in any certain direction. He looked over at Cleo, he could tell she was thinking about something, she always bit her lip when she was deep in thought. He had seen her looking at her wrist brand, and pulled his sleeve up to look at his. He had been adopted and as such had to be registered, but he was older than Cleo when she had hers, and right after she had lost her father.
F*cking police...
He pulled his sleeve down over it again and looked at Cleo, even flustered and stressed she was beautiful. She walked like she was floating, elegant and graceful, her hair hung lose now but he could tell she had braided it recently from the wave that still clung to her locks.
Whatever are you thinking about Cleo?
He then looked at Johnny, but quickly looked back into the forest when he heard leaves move, he saw Cleo stop and he knew she heard it too. She looked over to him, hand signaling to him and Johnny to keep an eye out behind them.
He looked over to see Cleo laying her sword on the ground, “Mani naa lle umien?*”
“Uuma dela**” She whispered to him, standing back up to speak out into the forest, “Amin merna quen!”
It was silent so she repeated in English, “I wish to speak!”
“Do you surrender?” A voice echoed, and Zenon met eyes with Cleo and they both laughed.
“Will..” They said in sync, and it was obvious they knew the voice, and didn't find it threatening.
“Never!” Cleo called and from around them seven men sprung out from cover, walking toward them with swords drawn.
Johnny had a weapon, so Zenon pulled his sword and took a defensive stance. He didn't smile a full smile, he rarely did that, but a half grin was on his face.
Leave it to them to ambush us...
Cleo had her sword in hand within seconds, and most of the men seemed to want to take her on, the strays sparred with Zenon and went for Johnny. He watched out for Cleo, but she didn't need any help, her movements were quick and precise. There was a draw between most of them, and while they caught their breath they watched Will and Cleo sparring.
“Give up yet?” Will taunted, and Cleo laughed.
“I admit a tie and nothing else...” Cleo remarked and Will grabbed her into a hug. She turned immediately, he saw concern cross her eyes, until she saw Johnny was alright and then she smiled. Her expression turned, she paused a moment to put the back of her hand against her mouth as if she were about to be sick.
“You alright Cleo?” Zenon moved closer to her, and watched her pull her hand down and try to act casual.
“Yeah yeah...Will..we left our things at the car, would you please get them for us?” Cleo immediately changed the subject, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
She's up to something....she thinks I won't figure out that something is going on?
Zenon stepped back and let them talk as he sidled up to Johnny, “Is she ok? She's never ill..and in the car she didn't drink...” He sounded worried, no matter how hard he tried he knew something was going on.
Furthermore he looks familiar...I wonder if he knew me as a child...before I was traded to the Gypsy's..
==Tag Johnny==
Gypsy-*What are you doing?
** Don't worry
#110
Guest_Alanna Treborn {Fiore}_*
Guest_Alanna Treborn {Fiore}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.04 @ 13:33 (01:33 PM)
Something had called Alanna Treborn back to Earth. She wasn’t sure what it was that had caused her to take the risk of returning, but when the Krynar appeared she was sitting alone on a cliff edge near where her family home had once stood on the European island of Malta.
It had been a long time since she’d held the rank of Rear Admiral and commanded the 3rd Exploration Group. Since then she had served within Starfleet Intelligence, becoming one of the most efficient assassins the service had ever had. They had augmented Alanna; already one of the best fighters in the Federation, cybernetic implants across her body granted her bursts of strength and speed that were far beyond anything a normal human was capable of, and much more besides. She still carried the advanced weapons they had given her, and still wore the infiltration suit complete with adaptive camouflage capabilities that let her go where she pleased.
Having left Starfleet she had taken it upon herself to purge the Federation and Starfleet of corruption. Her ‘house cleaning’ had been brutal and bloody. Officers, officials, ministers, private contractors, even an entire company on one occasion. Anyone turning a blind eye or abusing the trust of those they protected had a new reason to look over their shoulder. Alanna had cut out the cancer wherever she found it, and ‘cut out’ in the most literal meaning of the phrase.
However cynical and embittered she had become in the last few years, Alanna still considered herself a patriot. She had done what she had done to make the Federation a safer place, doing what she believed that no-one else had the stomach to do.
Now, as she looked up into the sky through telescopic binocs and saw the Starfleet vessels move into position, she knew she was in the right place.
She heard the crunch of boots on gravel as two figures approached from behind her, and lowered the binocs.
“Alanna Treborn.”
At the mention of her name she turned her head. Two Starfleet officers stood there, a Security Commodore and a senior SF:I agent by their uniforms. It was the Security man, shaven headed and barrel-chested, who had spoken. His Intel counterpart, a Vulcan female, picked up.
“Can we count on you?” she asked.
Alanna was silent a moment.
“This is my home” she said eventually. “I’ve given my life to protect and further the Federation. I’m not going to stop now.” Piercing blue eyes flicked up from the glittering Mediterranean and fixed the two Starfleeters with an appraising stare. “If you call me, I’ll answer.”
The Commodore and the agent looked at each other before looking back.
“Welcome back to Starfleet, Agent Treborn” the Vulcan said. She produced a commbadge from her pocket and threw it to Alanna, the lithe blonde plucking it out of the air and turning it over in her hand as the two walked away.
Nothing to be said. Whatever’s happened I’ll do what I need to do to protect Earth, whether that’s from the Krynar or whatever’s brought them here.
It had been a long time since she’d held the rank of Rear Admiral and commanded the 3rd Exploration Group. Since then she had served within Starfleet Intelligence, becoming one of the most efficient assassins the service had ever had. They had augmented Alanna; already one of the best fighters in the Federation, cybernetic implants across her body granted her bursts of strength and speed that were far beyond anything a normal human was capable of, and much more besides. She still carried the advanced weapons they had given her, and still wore the infiltration suit complete with adaptive camouflage capabilities that let her go where she pleased.
Having left Starfleet she had taken it upon herself to purge the Federation and Starfleet of corruption. Her ‘house cleaning’ had been brutal and bloody. Officers, officials, ministers, private contractors, even an entire company on one occasion. Anyone turning a blind eye or abusing the trust of those they protected had a new reason to look over their shoulder. Alanna had cut out the cancer wherever she found it, and ‘cut out’ in the most literal meaning of the phrase.
However cynical and embittered she had become in the last few years, Alanna still considered herself a patriot. She had done what she had done to make the Federation a safer place, doing what she believed that no-one else had the stomach to do.
Now, as she looked up into the sky through telescopic binocs and saw the Starfleet vessels move into position, she knew she was in the right place.
She heard the crunch of boots on gravel as two figures approached from behind her, and lowered the binocs.
“Alanna Treborn.”
At the mention of her name she turned her head. Two Starfleet officers stood there, a Security Commodore and a senior SF:I agent by their uniforms. It was the Security man, shaven headed and barrel-chested, who had spoken. His Intel counterpart, a Vulcan female, picked up.
“Can we count on you?” she asked.
Alanna was silent a moment.
“This is my home” she said eventually. “I’ve given my life to protect and further the Federation. I’m not going to stop now.” Piercing blue eyes flicked up from the glittering Mediterranean and fixed the two Starfleeters with an appraising stare. “If you call me, I’ll answer.”
The Commodore and the agent looked at each other before looking back.
“Welcome back to Starfleet, Agent Treborn” the Vulcan said. She produced a commbadge from her pocket and threw it to Alanna, the lithe blonde plucking it out of the air and turning it over in her hand as the two walked away.
Nothing to be said. Whatever’s happened I’ll do what I need to do to protect Earth, whether that’s from the Krynar or whatever’s brought them here.
#111
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.07 @ 02:37 (02:37 AM)
Johnny slowly jogged through the area he Cleo and Zenon were moving through. The air was brisk and fresh and nature was all around him. It reminded Johnny of camping trips as a child with his brother and best friend Avery. He missed the river and fishing, but this area brought back warm thoughts and as he looked back at Cleo and smiled it made him love her even more. He then saw Cleo stop and look to the tree line, which made Johnny go for his disrupter. Cleo then began to speak in gypsy which Johnny had picked up bits and phrases, but out of respect for Cleo did not dig to much. She watched as she laid her weapon on the ground but Johnny keep his hands close to his.
“Do you surrender?” a voice came from the woods that Cleo and Zenon seemed to recognize. As the men appeared Johnny saw Zenon with a half smile so he passed on blasting all of them with his disrupter as this seemed to be more of a friendly sparring match. Johnny drew his fighting knife from his side and his military tomahawk from the sling on his back and took on the men in as friendly of a manner as he could mostly disarming them and taking them to the ground. He kept an eye out for Cleo but he had seen her whip men twice her size so he wasn't too worried. Besides these were 'friends'.
Once the match was over Johnny sheathed his weapons and helped the men to his feet. He made eye contact with Cleo as she was speaking with a man known as Will and she seemed to be pointing back towards their car. He made his way over to Zenon.
“Is she ok? She's never ill..and in the car she didn't drink...”
"You know you are right... She's just like me she never passes on a drink... I'll talk to her about it later once we get to camp".
Johnny came closer to Cleo and put his arms around her waist his hands on her stomach.
"Thanks for all the surprises" he said with a smile.
==TAG==
“Do you surrender?” a voice came from the woods that Cleo and Zenon seemed to recognize. As the men appeared Johnny saw Zenon with a half smile so he passed on blasting all of them with his disrupter as this seemed to be more of a friendly sparring match. Johnny drew his fighting knife from his side and his military tomahawk from the sling on his back and took on the men in as friendly of a manner as he could mostly disarming them and taking them to the ground. He kept an eye out for Cleo but he had seen her whip men twice her size so he wasn't too worried. Besides these were 'friends'.
Once the match was over Johnny sheathed his weapons and helped the men to his feet. He made eye contact with Cleo as she was speaking with a man known as Will and she seemed to be pointing back towards their car. He made his way over to Zenon.
“Is she ok? She's never ill..and in the car she didn't drink...”
"You know you are right... She's just like me she never passes on a drink... I'll talk to her about it later once we get to camp".
Johnny came closer to Cleo and put his arms around her waist his hands on her stomach.
"Thanks for all the surprises" he said with a smile.
==TAG==
#112
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.07 @ 12:21 (12:21 PM)
Cleo turned her head to see Johnny and Zenon speaking, eyes widening a bit in worry. Will started talking again and distracted her, but in the back of her mind she still knew they were discussing her. She felt someone come up behind her and knew it was Johnny, she smiled.
“Thanks for all the surprises.” He put his hands on her tummy, and she shot Zenon a look.
He scowled, looking confused, and she realized that neither of them knew. She had tensed, but relaxed into the hug. The three of them, Cleo, Johnny and the baby, all linked up, it felt amazing.
“So, we're off?” Will gruff voice called, the men chuckled at Cleo and she raised her middle finger to them all.
She turned to look into Johnny's eyes, “I'm going to take some harassment.” She smiled, “But I love you and you're worth it.” She gave him a soft kiss, and picked up her bag.
They separated, half the group went on while the other half went back for the rest of their things. Cleo was thinking about what Johnny had said about trusting her, and smiled to herself. They were getting close, she could hear faint talking and smelled the campfires. She urged everyone to go ahead, leaving her and Johnny alone to talk a moment. They weren't too far ahead, but they couldn't hear what was being said.
She stepped closer to him, slowing her pace as she spoke, “Alright, I should explain some things before we get there.” She turned her head to look at him as she spoke, still walking, “There are three types of people in the camps.” She looked like she was thinking, she wanted to word it all just right. “The camps move, according to where they set up outside of a town for a show. Gypsy camps will always be near, but not so near that they can be seen by the law.”
Living this is easier than explaining....
“There are the Gypsy's, criminals who either have family in the carnival or benefit from traveling with it. The working Gypsy's, they're part of the clan but also work in the carnival. That's what I use to be.” She smiled, “Then the straight carnies. We all get along, most of them are crooks, so there’s no conflict. In fact, I'm fairly close to most of them, since I started working when I was eight.”
She stepped over a fallen log, then took a seat, the camp in sight now but she wasn't finished talking to him. She grabbed Johnnys hand, and pulled him to sit by her. She turned to him, resting a bent leg on the log toward him.
“You are what they will call a gillie, which means outsider. Because you're with me they will respect you for the most part, but some may test the boundary. My advice, I won't be able to help or they'll call you weak. Don't back down, they eventually will, but you don't do it first. I know you can handle yourself love.” She smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek before going on, “Later after we eat, we need to talk in my tent. Tomorrow they'll be a meeting, I've arranged it, but talking to you comes first.”
“Cleo, Eric said he needs to speak with you.” Zenon was walking toward them, she gave him and nod and he turned back to the camp.
She pointed to the biggest tent, it was gold and purple, very regal, “That's my tent. Will you take my bag there for me?” She asked Johnny, laying her bag on the ground beside him.
==Tag Johnny==
==If you post inside the tent heres some info- The tent was very large, and full of treasures. The treasures looked old and new, but all exotic and expensive looking. Theres a large bed in the middle as you walk in. Two seperate screens on either side of the room hid a bathtub, and wardrobe (so it was a makeshift closet). A large, oval mirror sat beside the bed with a small table beside it. The table had an old fashioned basin sink in it, and a pitcher with water in it to wash up. It was all very primitive.==
“Thanks for all the surprises.” He put his hands on her tummy, and she shot Zenon a look.
He scowled, looking confused, and she realized that neither of them knew. She had tensed, but relaxed into the hug. The three of them, Cleo, Johnny and the baby, all linked up, it felt amazing.
“So, we're off?” Will gruff voice called, the men chuckled at Cleo and she raised her middle finger to them all.
She turned to look into Johnny's eyes, “I'm going to take some harassment.” She smiled, “But I love you and you're worth it.” She gave him a soft kiss, and picked up her bag.
They separated, half the group went on while the other half went back for the rest of their things. Cleo was thinking about what Johnny had said about trusting her, and smiled to herself. They were getting close, she could hear faint talking and smelled the campfires. She urged everyone to go ahead, leaving her and Johnny alone to talk a moment. They weren't too far ahead, but they couldn't hear what was being said.
She stepped closer to him, slowing her pace as she spoke, “Alright, I should explain some things before we get there.” She turned her head to look at him as she spoke, still walking, “There are three types of people in the camps.” She looked like she was thinking, she wanted to word it all just right. “The camps move, according to where they set up outside of a town for a show. Gypsy camps will always be near, but not so near that they can be seen by the law.”
Living this is easier than explaining....
“There are the Gypsy's, criminals who either have family in the carnival or benefit from traveling with it. The working Gypsy's, they're part of the clan but also work in the carnival. That's what I use to be.” She smiled, “Then the straight carnies. We all get along, most of them are crooks, so there’s no conflict. In fact, I'm fairly close to most of them, since I started working when I was eight.”
She stepped over a fallen log, then took a seat, the camp in sight now but she wasn't finished talking to him. She grabbed Johnnys hand, and pulled him to sit by her. She turned to him, resting a bent leg on the log toward him.
“You are what they will call a gillie, which means outsider. Because you're with me they will respect you for the most part, but some may test the boundary. My advice, I won't be able to help or they'll call you weak. Don't back down, they eventually will, but you don't do it first. I know you can handle yourself love.” She smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek before going on, “Later after we eat, we need to talk in my tent. Tomorrow they'll be a meeting, I've arranged it, but talking to you comes first.”
“Cleo, Eric said he needs to speak with you.” Zenon was walking toward them, she gave him and nod and he turned back to the camp.
She pointed to the biggest tent, it was gold and purple, very regal, “That's my tent. Will you take my bag there for me?” She asked Johnny, laying her bag on the ground beside him.
==Tag Johnny==
==If you post inside the tent heres some info- The tent was very large, and full of treasures. The treasures looked old and new, but all exotic and expensive looking. Theres a large bed in the middle as you walk in. Two seperate screens on either side of the room hid a bathtub, and wardrobe (so it was a makeshift closet). A large, oval mirror sat beside the bed with a small table beside it. The table had an old fashioned basin sink in it, and a pitcher with water in it to wash up. It was all very primitive.==
#113
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.12 @ 23:55 (11:55 PM)
“So, we're off?” Will gruff voice called, the men chuckled at Cleo and she raised her middle finger to them all.
She turned to look into Johnny's eyes, “I'm going to take some harassment.” She smiled, “But I love you and you're worth it.” She gave him a soft kiss, and picked up her bag.
"Well you know how I like to pick on you as well" Johnny returnedher smile with a goofy one. Blade playfully picked on Cleo only because he knew she could always hold her own.
Blade watched as the group traveled ahead and he slowed his pace to match Cleo's. He could sense she wanted to speak with him in privately.
“Alright, I should explain some things before we get there.” She turned her head to look at him as she spoke, still walking, “There are three types of people in the camps. The camps move, according to where they set up outside of a town for a show. Gypsy camps will always be near, but not so near that they can be seen by the law.”
"It's all very interesting to me Cleo. Once my father opened the night club we used to have several Gypsy camps stay near by and get booze and supplies from my Dad. I was young, and of course I didn't realize exactly who the people were till I got much older". They continued walking.
“There are the Gypsy's, criminals who either have family in the carnival or benefit from traveling with it. The working Gypsy's, they're part of the clan but also work in the carnival. That's what I use to be.” She smiled, “Then the straight carnies. We all get along, most of them are crooks, so there’s no conflict. In fact, I'm fairly close to most of them, since I started working when I was eight.”
This is where most of Johnny's past popped up in his brain. He never looked at himself as a crook, but more of a cold blooded criminal. He hid it the gory details from most, but he dabbled in a little of everything. Illegal weapons, narcotics, a little of this and that. Johnny kept his mouth shut as he tried not to be so open with his past. He joined Cleo on the make shift log bench and removed his pack. He took a deep breath of the fresh evening air.
“You are what they will call a gillie, which means outsider. Because you're with me they will respect you for the most part, but some may test the boundary. My advice, I won't be able to help or they'll call you weak. Don't back down, they eventually will, but you don't do it first. I know you can handle yourself love.” She smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek before going on, “Later after we eat, we need to talk in my tent. Tomorrow they'll be a meeting, I've arranged it, but talking to you comes first.”
"Don't worry babe, I'll be fine. I've been saving up my wittiest come backs for later. I'm definitely looking forward to some real cooking you know how I hate replicated crap".
“Cleo, Eric said he needs to speak with you.” Zenon was walking toward them, she gave him and nod and he turned back to the camp.
She pointed to the biggest tent, it was gold and purple, very regal, “That's my tent. Will you take my bag there for me?” She asked Johnny, laying her bag on the ground beside him.
"Of course Love" said Johnny as he grabbed her pack and his. "I'll see you in a few" said Blade as he made his way over to the beautiful purple tent.
Johnny entered the tent and smiled. It had everything he could ever need in it. He walked towards the bed in the middle and laid their bags on each side of the bed. He quickly looked around the room and stopped as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror beside the bed. Blade looked so different out of uniform, he looked more at ease with himself, more like himself. The Starfleet uniform hid his past and his secrets so he knew it was a necessary evil. Blade quickly washed his face off in the basin and dried his hands and sighed. He checked his weapons and removed a small hooded vest from his bag. He put it on and raised the hood over his head. He stepped out into the camp area, a world he was about to get know very well.
==TAG==
She turned to look into Johnny's eyes, “I'm going to take some harassment.” She smiled, “But I love you and you're worth it.” She gave him a soft kiss, and picked up her bag.
"Well you know how I like to pick on you as well" Johnny returnedher smile with a goofy one. Blade playfully picked on Cleo only because he knew she could always hold her own.
Blade watched as the group traveled ahead and he slowed his pace to match Cleo's. He could sense she wanted to speak with him in privately.
“Alright, I should explain some things before we get there.” She turned her head to look at him as she spoke, still walking, “There are three types of people in the camps. The camps move, according to where they set up outside of a town for a show. Gypsy camps will always be near, but not so near that they can be seen by the law.”
"It's all very interesting to me Cleo. Once my father opened the night club we used to have several Gypsy camps stay near by and get booze and supplies from my Dad. I was young, and of course I didn't realize exactly who the people were till I got much older". They continued walking.
“There are the Gypsy's, criminals who either have family in the carnival or benefit from traveling with it. The working Gypsy's, they're part of the clan but also work in the carnival. That's what I use to be.” She smiled, “Then the straight carnies. We all get along, most of them are crooks, so there’s no conflict. In fact, I'm fairly close to most of them, since I started working when I was eight.”
This is where most of Johnny's past popped up in his brain. He never looked at himself as a crook, but more of a cold blooded criminal. He hid it the gory details from most, but he dabbled in a little of everything. Illegal weapons, narcotics, a little of this and that. Johnny kept his mouth shut as he tried not to be so open with his past. He joined Cleo on the make shift log bench and removed his pack. He took a deep breath of the fresh evening air.
“You are what they will call a gillie, which means outsider. Because you're with me they will respect you for the most part, but some may test the boundary. My advice, I won't be able to help or they'll call you weak. Don't back down, they eventually will, but you don't do it first. I know you can handle yourself love.” She smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek before going on, “Later after we eat, we need to talk in my tent. Tomorrow they'll be a meeting, I've arranged it, but talking to you comes first.”
"Don't worry babe, I'll be fine. I've been saving up my wittiest come backs for later. I'm definitely looking forward to some real cooking you know how I hate replicated crap".
“Cleo, Eric said he needs to speak with you.” Zenon was walking toward them, she gave him and nod and he turned back to the camp.
She pointed to the biggest tent, it was gold and purple, very regal, “That's my tent. Will you take my bag there for me?” She asked Johnny, laying her bag on the ground beside him.
"Of course Love" said Johnny as he grabbed her pack and his. "I'll see you in a few" said Blade as he made his way over to the beautiful purple tent.
Johnny entered the tent and smiled. It had everything he could ever need in it. He walked towards the bed in the middle and laid their bags on each side of the bed. He quickly looked around the room and stopped as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror beside the bed. Blade looked so different out of uniform, he looked more at ease with himself, more like himself. The Starfleet uniform hid his past and his secrets so he knew it was a necessary evil. Blade quickly washed his face off in the basin and dried his hands and sighed. He checked his weapons and removed a small hooded vest from his bag. He put it on and raised the hood over his head. He stepped out into the camp area, a world he was about to get know very well.
==TAG==
#114
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.13 @ 01:15 (01:15 AM)
Cleo found Eric in her grandfather's old tent, it had all the maps, and was essentially called the command tent. She entered to three voices chattering, Eric, Will and Zenon, they turned to her and greeted her again, this time as the leader. There was a respect she earned just from taking the title, but also because they all knew and loved her.
"What is it? I'm hungry and I need to do something.." She sounded annoyed, as she drew her sword and placed it on the table on top of theirs.
Eric spoke first, "Whats the meeting about Cleo?"
"No offense Eric, but if I wanted you to know I wouldn't bother with a meeting. You'll have to wait til tomorrow afternoon. The other leaders need to be here."
"Cleo, what's going on?" Zenon stepped up, his voice kind and concerned.
"I can't tell you yet." She smiled, "Trust me, as you always have."
"Can this Johnny be trusted, someone said he has a sketchy past." Will interrupted.
She turned to him, "I trust him with my life. We all have our pasts. I think he fits in just fine. Johnny is one of us, if any of you disrespect him you will be out. You can tell any of them I said so." She said sternly, but then smiled, "I love you all, but I'm of two worlds, Johnny fits into both."
They all gave her an understanding nod, "Shall we have a sword crafted?" Eric asked.
"Not yet....I have to talk with him about something.." Her voice trailed off, then she cleared her throat, "Is that all?" She looked at the trio again.
"Yes, we will make sure everything is ready for the meeting."
She put her hand on Eric shoulder, they stood in a circle, each one linked by a hand on a shoulder, "I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor."* Cleo pronounced, picked up her sword and vanished into the camp.
The smell of food cooking made her stomach rumble, she neared the fire pit and saw a large pig roasting and two large pots on smaller fires, vegetable boiling and steaming within. She smiled and greeted everyone as she made her way. When she reached the pig she gave the woman her approval and turned to everyone, a hand going up to get everyones attention.
"Thank you all for the warm welcome back. I don't know where he went but my boyfriend Johnny is with me, so we both thank you for this meal." She smiled and took a drink from Zenon and raised it to the crowd. "Tula, vasa ar' yulna en i'mereth!"** They all took a drink, and she realized he had given her water.
Zenon flashed her a smile, he knew, that proved it, but he'd let her tell everyone else. The leader had a choice, they could eat first or allow the children to go first. She stood back and let the children get their food, smiling wistfully at them and thinking about her own child.
==Tag Johnny!==
Gypsy- *The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun
** Come, eat and drink of the feast
"What is it? I'm hungry and I need to do something.." She sounded annoyed, as she drew her sword and placed it on the table on top of theirs.
Eric spoke first, "Whats the meeting about Cleo?"
"No offense Eric, but if I wanted you to know I wouldn't bother with a meeting. You'll have to wait til tomorrow afternoon. The other leaders need to be here."
"Cleo, what's going on?" Zenon stepped up, his voice kind and concerned.
"I can't tell you yet." She smiled, "Trust me, as you always have."
"Can this Johnny be trusted, someone said he has a sketchy past." Will interrupted.
She turned to him, "I trust him with my life. We all have our pasts. I think he fits in just fine. Johnny is one of us, if any of you disrespect him you will be out. You can tell any of them I said so." She said sternly, but then smiled, "I love you all, but I'm of two worlds, Johnny fits into both."
They all gave her an understanding nod, "Shall we have a sword crafted?" Eric asked.
"Not yet....I have to talk with him about something.." Her voice trailed off, then she cleared her throat, "Is that all?" She looked at the trio again.
"Yes, we will make sure everything is ready for the meeting."
She put her hand on Eric shoulder, they stood in a circle, each one linked by a hand on a shoulder, "I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor."* Cleo pronounced, picked up her sword and vanished into the camp.
The smell of food cooking made her stomach rumble, she neared the fire pit and saw a large pig roasting and two large pots on smaller fires, vegetable boiling and steaming within. She smiled and greeted everyone as she made her way. When she reached the pig she gave the woman her approval and turned to everyone, a hand going up to get everyones attention.
"Thank you all for the warm welcome back. I don't know where he went but my boyfriend Johnny is with me, so we both thank you for this meal." She smiled and took a drink from Zenon and raised it to the crowd. "Tula, vasa ar' yulna en i'mereth!"** They all took a drink, and she realized he had given her water.
Zenon flashed her a smile, he knew, that proved it, but he'd let her tell everyone else. The leader had a choice, they could eat first or allow the children to go first. She stood back and let the children get their food, smiling wistfully at them and thinking about her own child.
==Tag Johnny!==
Gypsy- *The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun
** Come, eat and drink of the feast
#115
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.16 @ 00:13 (12:13 AM)
==Due to the sitewide mission the timeline for this plot has been changed to before the mission on the Sheridan.==
#116
Lt Jack Regan {Fields}
-
- Retired Accounts
-
- 200 posts
Member
-
- Security Officer
- USS Reciprocity, ES-17413
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21311.16 @ 12:38 (12:38 PM)
== Arundel, Sussex, England ==
== Different time-line, prior to Krynar arrival in Sol System ==
The door of the car on the driver's side opened. There was a gruff voice from inside before the driver emerged. "Well it's nice to see at least your pu... cat is pleased to see me!"
Jack Regan stepped out and slammed the door of the sports car behind him. He beamed at Laura. "Hope you don't mind me stopping by?" He sniffed and inspected the looming Medieval fortress around them. "Just like Wisneyworld on Risa, isn't it? Only a bit more rundown..."
Regan was out of uniform and dressed casually. He began to peel off a pair of leather motoring gloves. "Like the motor?" He said. "Borrowed it from a friend..."
Jack leaned over the bonnet and reached out carefully to tickle the cat under his chin. "'ello puss."
== Tag Laura and Shadow ==
== Different time-line, prior to Krynar arrival in Sol System ==
The door of the car on the driver's side opened. There was a gruff voice from inside before the driver emerged. "Well it's nice to see at least your pu... cat is pleased to see me!"
Jack Regan stepped out and slammed the door of the sports car behind him. He beamed at Laura. "Hope you don't mind me stopping by?" He sniffed and inspected the looming Medieval fortress around them. "Just like Wisneyworld on Risa, isn't it? Only a bit more rundown..."
Regan was out of uniform and dressed casually. He began to peel off a pair of leather motoring gloves. "Like the motor?" He said. "Borrowed it from a friend..."
Jack leaned over the bonnet and reached out carefully to tickle the cat under his chin. "'ello puss."
== Tag Laura and Shadow
==
#117
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.19 @ 23:03 (11:03 PM)
As Johnny stood in the doorway of the tent he watched Cleo move towards the camp fire. Everyone was smiling and obviously very happy to see her. This was the way the couple worked in public, if you wanted to find Johnny look in the dark corner of the bar, Cleo could be a little harder to find at times, but she always found her way back to him.
Johnny stomach began rumbling so he made his way over to Cleo and kissed her on the neck.
"What's for dinner love?" he said as he smiled at his new companions.
Johnny stomach began rumbling so he made his way over to Cleo and kissed her on the neck.
"What's for dinner love?" he said as he smiled at his new companions.
#118
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.20 @ 02:42 (02:42 AM)
==Before the events on Earth and Sheridan's mission==
Cleo felt Johnny come up behind her, the gentle kiss made her smile and shiver slightly. The night air had changed, she had forgotten how chilly it could be at night in the forest. She turned to him, returning the smile, looking into his eyes lovingly.
"What's for dinner love?"
"Roast pig, and vegetables. As soon as the little ones are finished we can get ours.." Her voice trailed off when one of the smallest babies toddled close to the fire, and Cleo scooped him up.
He turned in her arms, his chubby fingers touched her face softly with a smile on his round cheeks. She laughed at the little one, and blew softly on his face, making his downy like hair blow back. He shut his eyes and giggled, which made Cleo laugh again. She looked over at Johnny, then at the baby, who had now stuck his fingers into Cleo's mouth, in return she started to pretend to nibble on them.
His giggles drew the attention of a short, stocky blonde woman, her skirt squishing as she made her way over, "There you are you little imp!" The irish mother took the child, "Sorry Cleo, he is always wanderin' away."
"It's alright Myra." Cleo brushed the childs face with a finger, "He's precious."
The mother and son excused themselves and Cleo got in line to get food. Everyone kept saying she should go first, but no matter how hungry she was she would go last. She sat and ate, surrounded by the people she loved, as they laughed and told stories to each other. Zenon made sure she and Johnny always had a drink, and stood behind them to eat.
Almost time to talk to him...
She looked over at Johnny, studying his handsome face, and wondering who the baby would look like. When he looked at her it still sent a thrill through her, she couldn't imagine life without him now.
When he was finished she leaned over to whisper to him, "Come with me love, I need to speak to you." She sounded nervous.
Inside the tent she started to pace, searching for the words as she turned to him, "I...well..." She pointed to the bed, "Maybe you should sit.."
I'm gunna be sick...why did I eat before I did this...
"I'm pregnant!" The words fell out of her mouth, it shocked her so much her eyes widened. "I'm sorry...I missed my appointments...."
She turned her back, about to well up in tears, they trickled down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away but they kept coming. She was terrified he'd take the news badly.
==Tag Johnny==
Cleo felt Johnny come up behind her, the gentle kiss made her smile and shiver slightly. The night air had changed, she had forgotten how chilly it could be at night in the forest. She turned to him, returning the smile, looking into his eyes lovingly.
"What's for dinner love?"
"Roast pig, and vegetables. As soon as the little ones are finished we can get ours.." Her voice trailed off when one of the smallest babies toddled close to the fire, and Cleo scooped him up.
He turned in her arms, his chubby fingers touched her face softly with a smile on his round cheeks. She laughed at the little one, and blew softly on his face, making his downy like hair blow back. He shut his eyes and giggled, which made Cleo laugh again. She looked over at Johnny, then at the baby, who had now stuck his fingers into Cleo's mouth, in return she started to pretend to nibble on them.
His giggles drew the attention of a short, stocky blonde woman, her skirt squishing as she made her way over, "There you are you little imp!" The irish mother took the child, "Sorry Cleo, he is always wanderin' away."
"It's alright Myra." Cleo brushed the childs face with a finger, "He's precious."
The mother and son excused themselves and Cleo got in line to get food. Everyone kept saying she should go first, but no matter how hungry she was she would go last. She sat and ate, surrounded by the people she loved, as they laughed and told stories to each other. Zenon made sure she and Johnny always had a drink, and stood behind them to eat.
Almost time to talk to him...
She looked over at Johnny, studying his handsome face, and wondering who the baby would look like. When he looked at her it still sent a thrill through her, she couldn't imagine life without him now.
When he was finished she leaned over to whisper to him, "Come with me love, I need to speak to you." She sounded nervous.
Inside the tent she started to pace, searching for the words as she turned to him, "I...well..." She pointed to the bed, "Maybe you should sit.."
I'm gunna be sick...why did I eat before I did this...
"I'm pregnant!" The words fell out of her mouth, it shocked her so much her eyes widened. "I'm sorry...I missed my appointments...."
She turned her back, about to well up in tears, they trickled down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away but they kept coming. She was terrified he'd take the news badly.
==Tag Johnny==
#119
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
Guest_Lt Johnny Blade_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.21 @ 19:46 (07:46 PM)
It was very common for Johnny Blade to eat you out of house and home and he definitely got his fill around the fire. He leaned back and let out a weary sigh as his stomach was full and his eyes were growing heavy.
"Come with me love, I need to speak to you."
"Sure thing" said Johnny with smile as he rose to his feet to follow Cleo to their tent.
Inside the tent she started to pace, "I...well..." She pointed to the bed, "Maybe you should sit.."
Johnny slowly sat down with a worried look on his face.
"I'm pregnant! I'm sorry...I missed my appointments...."
Johnny's mouth his the floor. A father? Him? Was he even fit to take on such responsability? There were many areas Blade never doubted himself, there were times when most men would've ran in fear and he stood strong. Captain Vaughn has even mentioned how nothing could ever get to him, but this was, and in this moment Johnny Blade was as terrified as he had ever been.
Cleo turned her back and Johnny came up behind her and wrapped his hands around her stomach and whispered in her ear.
"I think all three of us are going to be just fine, love".
==TAG==
"Come with me love, I need to speak to you."
"Sure thing" said Johnny with smile as he rose to his feet to follow Cleo to their tent.
Inside the tent she started to pace, "I...well..." She pointed to the bed, "Maybe you should sit.."
Johnny slowly sat down with a worried look on his face.
"I'm pregnant! I'm sorry...I missed my appointments...."
Johnny's mouth his the floor. A father? Him? Was he even fit to take on such responsability? There were many areas Blade never doubted himself, there were times when most men would've ran in fear and he stood strong. Captain Vaughn has even mentioned how nothing could ever get to him, but this was, and in this moment Johnny Blade was as terrified as he had ever been.
Cleo turned her back and Johnny came up behind her and wrapped his hands around her stomach and whispered in her ear.
"I think all three of us are going to be just fine, love".
==TAG==
#120
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Ens Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21311.21 @ 21:56 (09:56 PM)
Johnny's reassurance and love made Cleo relax, but there was more, and she wasn't sure how he would react to it all. She stood there a moment, gathering her thoughts before she spoke.
She turned to him, pulling him gently by the hand til they were seated on the bed, "There is more.." She scrunched up her face, looking worried.
Just tell him...
She faced him, holding both his hands in her own, "I have to do something for my people and its very dangerous. Tomorrow at the meeting I have to announce that I will set out to meet with the leader of the Northern clans, to sign a peace treaty. In return I will promise peace between the Gypsy's and outsiders." She sighed, "The danger comes when I enter the territory, I've killed many of them in battles or hits, killing me would be an honor." She looked down thinking, then met his eyes again, "I have to go alone, and unarmed, otherwise they will perceive it as an attack, but it's no guarantee they will let me live."
She smiled weakly, "Remember when I asked you to trust me? I need that trust now. I need to do this, the killing needs to stop and I have to do it." She squeezed his hands, "I also need you to keep Zenon here, don't let him follow me, even if you have to knock him out. They will not tolerate the two of us. Please love, you're the only one I can count on." Her eyes were pleading now.
More than you know...
==Tag Johnny==
She turned to him, pulling him gently by the hand til they were seated on the bed, "There is more.." She scrunched up her face, looking worried.
Just tell him...
She faced him, holding both his hands in her own, "I have to do something for my people and its very dangerous. Tomorrow at the meeting I have to announce that I will set out to meet with the leader of the Northern clans, to sign a peace treaty. In return I will promise peace between the Gypsy's and outsiders." She sighed, "The danger comes when I enter the territory, I've killed many of them in battles or hits, killing me would be an honor." She looked down thinking, then met his eyes again, "I have to go alone, and unarmed, otherwise they will perceive it as an attack, but it's no guarantee they will let me live."
She smiled weakly, "Remember when I asked you to trust me? I need that trust now. I need to do this, the killing needs to stop and I have to do it." She squeezed his hands, "I also need you to keep Zenon here, don't let him follow me, even if you have to knock him out. They will not tolerate the two of us. Please love, you're the only one I can count on." Her eyes were pleading now.
More than you know...
==Tag Johnny==
#121
Posted Star Date 21312.12 @ 13:18 (01:18 PM)
== Arundel, Sussex, England ==
== Different time-line, prior to Krynar arrival in Sol System ==
A delighted smile crept over Laura's face as she recognised the voice emanating from the vehicle. "Jack!"
"You know this person Miss Laura?" The doctor immediately turned to placate the offended butler, while Shadow rolled over on the car's bonnet to present her belly for Regan's attention.
"It's noisy!" The doctor teased in response to his question, once the butler turned back up the driveway to the main door.
Stepping forward, Laura reached her arms up around her visitor's neck to give him a hug. "How have you been?"
Shadow made a noise at her mistress' forcing Jack's attention away from her and got up to move closer so that she could paw at his hip.
== tag ==
== Different time-line, prior to Krynar arrival in Sol System ==
A delighted smile crept over Laura's face as she recognised the voice emanating from the vehicle. "Jack!"
"You know this person Miss Laura?" The doctor immediately turned to placate the offended butler, while Shadow rolled over on the car's bonnet to present her belly for Regan's attention.
"It's noisy!" The doctor teased in response to his question, once the butler turned back up the driveway to the main door.
Stepping forward, Laura reached her arms up around her visitor's neck to give him a hug. "How have you been?"
Shadow made a noise at her mistress' forcing Jack's attention away from her and got up to move closer so that she could paw at his hip.
== tag
==
#122
Guest_Lt (JG) Banks_*
Guest_Lt (JG) Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21401.12 @ 17:06 (05:06 PM)
==Moving along==
==The next morning==
Cleo was clearheaded, despite the fact that she had just thrown up only moments before entering the large tent. She looked over her shoulder at Johnny entering the tent behind her, and then Zenon, she looked away quickly, a twinge of guilt ran through her.
Focus on now...
“Who is this outsider?” A gruff figure off to the right said, and Cleo shot him a nasty look.
“His name is Johnny, and he isn't an outsider. Are we clear?” She narrowed her eyes, the man simply nodded to answer.
She turned to everyone else, they all looked wide-eyed and ready to listen, a mix of the broken clan that was once the largest and the few Irish that were left after Percy's tyranny. She was thankful he was gone, but also fearful of not knowing who now ran the English.
She brushed her hair behind her ears as she looked around the room, “Alright. Everyone quiet!” She held up a hand, and everyone stopped talking to look at her, “Out of respect to Johnny we will speak in English, no Portuguese or Gypsy.”
She looked around again to make sure everyone was paying attention, drawing in a breath she took out her sword and laid it across the round table, there were other swords laying around the ancient looking table, lined up with the shape of the table and tips touching. It was a signal that she was a part of the council, but also being the last sword and the one on top meant she lead the group. She looked deep in thought a moment, then cleared her throat and straightened.
“When I look around here I am saddened by the number of faces missing. But I am also happy to see that so many have survived. I am happy to see the other three Southern clan leaders could be here, I thank you for your time.” She gave the three gray haired men a nod of respect. “As the leader of the southern clans I called this meeting to make an announcement and discuss my plan.” The room was so quiet and still now, she knew they were anxious to hear what she had to say.
Courage Cleo...
“I am surrounded by death and danger when I return here, and have been my whole life. I've killed, stolen, conned, and done other things I'm not proud of. But it has to stop now, we can't keep going on like this. We have lost so much already, and I for one can not take anymore.” She smiled slightly, trying to assure them, but her next sentence was going to cause a disturbance. “That is why I must go and speak to Dolon, the leader of the Northern clans.”
The room erupted in chatter, objections and some shouting. Cleo waited a moment, let some of them rant and then raised her hand to quiet them. She expected the react, it was a suicide mission if she failed and they all knew the history with Cleo and Dolon.
“The Greek, Cleo? First, its suicide and second its far away, what are you thinking?” Zenon objected when it was quiet, and she tried to shoot him an understanding look.
“I am thinking of peace, of a world where I can walk into the forest and not fear for the lives of those I love. A world where outsiders don't fear us so much that they brand us like cattle to separate and alienate.” She could see the hurt behind his eyes, the worry for her safety.
She turned to the now silent room, “I will go alone. I will wear my Starfleet uniform, to show my unity to the outside world. A unity we will embrace when we make peace and I convince them that they need not be afraid of us. I'll go unarmed, and nobody is to follow me.” She looked at Zenon, whos expression had turned to boiling anger. “Should my plan fail, I leave the clans to Zenon, my adopted brother and most trusted friend.”
“I don't want it Cleo!” Zenon shouted, then in his rage he threw a chair, that barely missed the crowd inside the tent.
They started arguing in Gypsy, until Zenon stormed out, leaving Cleo to hang her head in frustration. She breathed a moment, gathering her thoughts before turning back to the rest of them.
“Will there be a vote on this decision?” Wills voice came from the back, he was standing next to his brother, Eric, they had obviously thought of this together.
“No.” Cleo said shortly, “I have decided.”
They started to yell and bicker again, until Will started to weave through the crowd, the crowd hushed as the large man reached Cleo's side. She smiled up at him, and he returned it, placing his arm around her shoulder.
“I have known Cleo since she was a tiny little, shin kicking brat.” The crowd laughed at Will's words, even Cleo. “I followed her grandfather, a good man, and I follow Cleo now. I think this choice is brave, maybe even noble.” He squeezed her, “If Cleo thinks this is the only way then I trust her. She seeks a better world for us, and for anyone brought into this world like she was at such a young age.”
He pulled Cleo away to face him and placed both hands on her shoulders, “My heart goes with you Cleo, best of luck.”
A tear trickled down her cheek, “Thank you Will.”
She turned back to the others, they had gone from angry to happiness, most of them smiled at her. She felt overwhelmed with pride to know these people, she knew she was doing the right thing to try and save them.
"If nobody has anything further, this meeting is over. I leave at dawn."
She left the tent swiftly, and headed for the creek, she knew he'd be there. At first she just walked up to the pale Andorian and stood saying nothing, feeling him tense again in anger from her presence. She stayed silent as she picked up a rock, felt the smooth flat gray stone, before tossing it across the water. It skipped four times before he spoke, just after he sighed heavily.
"I do not wish to speak about this...you made up your mind.." His voice trailed off, she could hear the hurt in his tone.
"Zenon," She touched his arm, which caused him to look into her eyes, "I have to. You know I do. Logically thi-"
He raised a hand to stop her from finishing, and huffed off down the creek. She watched him a moment, let out a sigh, and sat down alongside the water. Then gentle sound of water soothed her, but she couldn't help but feel guilty. A nudge at her back made her turn suddenly, knife in hand now, but when she saw who had done it. The large black stallion let out a whinny and stomped a foot in protest of being startled, which made Cleo laugh.
"Sorry Avalon." She stood and pulled a carrot,she had stashed in her pocket earlier, out and offered it to him. "Better?"
He put his head over her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She started to laugh when the beast found it hard to resist chewing on her hair.
She pulled back to smooth her hand down his neck, "Tomorrow is a big day old friend, wish me luck?"
==Tag Johnny or to be continued...==
==The next morning==
Cleo was clearheaded, despite the fact that she had just thrown up only moments before entering the large tent. She looked over her shoulder at Johnny entering the tent behind her, and then Zenon, she looked away quickly, a twinge of guilt ran through her.
Focus on now...
“Who is this outsider?” A gruff figure off to the right said, and Cleo shot him a nasty look.
“His name is Johnny, and he isn't an outsider. Are we clear?” She narrowed her eyes, the man simply nodded to answer.
She turned to everyone else, they all looked wide-eyed and ready to listen, a mix of the broken clan that was once the largest and the few Irish that were left after Percy's tyranny. She was thankful he was gone, but also fearful of not knowing who now ran the English.
She brushed her hair behind her ears as she looked around the room, “Alright. Everyone quiet!” She held up a hand, and everyone stopped talking to look at her, “Out of respect to Johnny we will speak in English, no Portuguese or Gypsy.”
She looked around again to make sure everyone was paying attention, drawing in a breath she took out her sword and laid it across the round table, there were other swords laying around the ancient looking table, lined up with the shape of the table and tips touching. It was a signal that she was a part of the council, but also being the last sword and the one on top meant she lead the group. She looked deep in thought a moment, then cleared her throat and straightened.
“When I look around here I am saddened by the number of faces missing. But I am also happy to see that so many have survived. I am happy to see the other three Southern clan leaders could be here, I thank you for your time.” She gave the three gray haired men a nod of respect. “As the leader of the southern clans I called this meeting to make an announcement and discuss my plan.” The room was so quiet and still now, she knew they were anxious to hear what she had to say.
Courage Cleo...
“I am surrounded by death and danger when I return here, and have been my whole life. I've killed, stolen, conned, and done other things I'm not proud of. But it has to stop now, we can't keep going on like this. We have lost so much already, and I for one can not take anymore.” She smiled slightly, trying to assure them, but her next sentence was going to cause a disturbance. “That is why I must go and speak to Dolon, the leader of the Northern clans.”
The room erupted in chatter, objections and some shouting. Cleo waited a moment, let some of them rant and then raised her hand to quiet them. She expected the react, it was a suicide mission if she failed and they all knew the history with Cleo and Dolon.
“The Greek, Cleo? First, its suicide and second its far away, what are you thinking?” Zenon objected when it was quiet, and she tried to shoot him an understanding look.
“I am thinking of peace, of a world where I can walk into the forest and not fear for the lives of those I love. A world where outsiders don't fear us so much that they brand us like cattle to separate and alienate.” She could see the hurt behind his eyes, the worry for her safety.
She turned to the now silent room, “I will go alone. I will wear my Starfleet uniform, to show my unity to the outside world. A unity we will embrace when we make peace and I convince them that they need not be afraid of us. I'll go unarmed, and nobody is to follow me.” She looked at Zenon, whos expression had turned to boiling anger. “Should my plan fail, I leave the clans to Zenon, my adopted brother and most trusted friend.”
“I don't want it Cleo!” Zenon shouted, then in his rage he threw a chair, that barely missed the crowd inside the tent.
They started arguing in Gypsy, until Zenon stormed out, leaving Cleo to hang her head in frustration. She breathed a moment, gathering her thoughts before turning back to the rest of them.
“Will there be a vote on this decision?” Wills voice came from the back, he was standing next to his brother, Eric, they had obviously thought of this together.
“No.” Cleo said shortly, “I have decided.”
They started to yell and bicker again, until Will started to weave through the crowd, the crowd hushed as the large man reached Cleo's side. She smiled up at him, and he returned it, placing his arm around her shoulder.
“I have known Cleo since she was a tiny little, shin kicking brat.” The crowd laughed at Will's words, even Cleo. “I followed her grandfather, a good man, and I follow Cleo now. I think this choice is brave, maybe even noble.” He squeezed her, “If Cleo thinks this is the only way then I trust her. She seeks a better world for us, and for anyone brought into this world like she was at such a young age.”
He pulled Cleo away to face him and placed both hands on her shoulders, “My heart goes with you Cleo, best of luck.”
A tear trickled down her cheek, “Thank you Will.”
She turned back to the others, they had gone from angry to happiness, most of them smiled at her. She felt overwhelmed with pride to know these people, she knew she was doing the right thing to try and save them.
"If nobody has anything further, this meeting is over. I leave at dawn."
She left the tent swiftly, and headed for the creek, she knew he'd be there. At first she just walked up to the pale Andorian and stood saying nothing, feeling him tense again in anger from her presence. She stayed silent as she picked up a rock, felt the smooth flat gray stone, before tossing it across the water. It skipped four times before he spoke, just after he sighed heavily.
"I do not wish to speak about this...you made up your mind.." His voice trailed off, she could hear the hurt in his tone.
"Zenon," She touched his arm, which caused him to look into her eyes, "I have to. You know I do. Logically thi-"
He raised a hand to stop her from finishing, and huffed off down the creek. She watched him a moment, let out a sigh, and sat down alongside the water. Then gentle sound of water soothed her, but she couldn't help but feel guilty. A nudge at her back made her turn suddenly, knife in hand now, but when she saw who had done it. The large black stallion let out a whinny and stomped a foot in protest of being startled, which made Cleo laugh.
"Sorry Avalon." She stood and pulled a carrot,she had stashed in her pocket earlier, out and offered it to him. "Better?"
He put his head over her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She started to laugh when the beast found it hard to resist chewing on her hair.
She pulled back to smooth her hand down his neck, "Tomorrow is a big day old friend, wish me luck?"
==Tag Johnny or to be continued...==
#123
Guest_Lt (JG) Banks_*
Guest_Lt (JG) Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21401.17 @ 05:28 (05:28 AM)
Cleo was still in a fog, from lack of sleep, as she mounted Avalon. The black stallion whinnied with excitement, it had been so long since the two had gone for a ride. She had gotten up very early, the camp was silent, except for a few snores and coughs from slumbering Gypsies.
"Here. I put extra food in your bag. Stop as much as you can." Zenon handed her back up to her, his voice still sounding annoyed.
"Thank you." She grabbed his hand that held the strap of her bag, forcing a smile but her eyes looked worried.
"See you when you get back." He gave her a short nod and wiggled his hand free to let her take the bag.
"Tell Johnny..."
"You suck at goodbyes." He finished her sentence, and turned to leave her alone.
She pulled Avalon's reins to face him out of the camp, looked over her shoulder at the camp, then turned to leave before she lost her nerve. She stopped at the border of the territories at a creek, Avalon drank for a long time and they ate together. She talked to him, as she always had, and he answered in whinnies of various pitches as if he understood. They sat together on the ground and fell asleep.
The next morning was foggy, which she was thankful for, "Camouflage, but not for you buddy. Too dangerous." She gave him a hug, giggling as the beast started nibbling on her hair. "If I don't come back, take care of them for me."
She watched him walk away, and set off into Northern territories. Her heart was heavy, she tried to shrug it off by singing to herself softly. The fog didn't set her off course, but when the air shifted it distracted her.
"Hello?" She called, knowing all too well that a spirit was lingering.
"Fraya..."
Her hand went over her mouth, at first she was too stunned speak, finally the tear splattered word came, "Avo?"
They embraced, Cleo couldn't help but cry. She hadn't seen her grandfather since he passed, his spirit had gone on without a word.
"I'm so sorry..." She whispered.
He pulled back, cupping her face gently in his hands, "Shhh. It was not your fault. I should have done what you go to do, I had too much pride." He smiled.
"I'm scared." She said softly.
"No." He shook his head, "Not my Cleo. The brave little girl who missed her daddy but helped her mother heal. Not the same Cleo who has defied death...no spit in its face!" He winked, his Portuguese accent as thick as ever. "Not this officer her father would have been so proud of. I told you my Fraya, fear isn't real unless you create it." He touched the end of her nose, and smiled.
She smiled, nodding, "Yes...thank you Avo."
They walked hand in hand until they were close to the camp. She sighed and looked at her grandfather one last time.
"If it goes sideways I'll see you soon."
"We all love you Cleo. We'll be right beside you, always." His voice echoed and faded, but she didn't watch him go.
"I love you too.." She whispered, staring ahead at the camp as she felt his presence fade.
== To be continued ==
== Portuguese- Avo = grandfather
"Here. I put extra food in your bag. Stop as much as you can." Zenon handed her back up to her, his voice still sounding annoyed.
"Thank you." She grabbed his hand that held the strap of her bag, forcing a smile but her eyes looked worried.
"See you when you get back." He gave her a short nod and wiggled his hand free to let her take the bag.
"Tell Johnny..."
"You suck at goodbyes." He finished her sentence, and turned to leave her alone.
She pulled Avalon's reins to face him out of the camp, looked over her shoulder at the camp, then turned to leave before she lost her nerve. She stopped at the border of the territories at a creek, Avalon drank for a long time and they ate together. She talked to him, as she always had, and he answered in whinnies of various pitches as if he understood. They sat together on the ground and fell asleep.
The next morning was foggy, which she was thankful for, "Camouflage, but not for you buddy. Too dangerous." She gave him a hug, giggling as the beast started nibbling on her hair. "If I don't come back, take care of them for me."
She watched him walk away, and set off into Northern territories. Her heart was heavy, she tried to shrug it off by singing to herself softly. The fog didn't set her off course, but when the air shifted it distracted her.
"Hello?" She called, knowing all too well that a spirit was lingering.
"Fraya..."
Her hand went over her mouth, at first she was too stunned speak, finally the tear splattered word came, "Avo?"
They embraced, Cleo couldn't help but cry. She hadn't seen her grandfather since he passed, his spirit had gone on without a word.
"I'm so sorry..." She whispered.
He pulled back, cupping her face gently in his hands, "Shhh. It was not your fault. I should have done what you go to do, I had too much pride." He smiled.
"I'm scared." She said softly.
"No." He shook his head, "Not my Cleo. The brave little girl who missed her daddy but helped her mother heal. Not the same Cleo who has defied death...no spit in its face!" He winked, his Portuguese accent as thick as ever. "Not this officer her father would have been so proud of. I told you my Fraya, fear isn't real unless you create it." He touched the end of her nose, and smiled.
She smiled, nodding, "Yes...thank you Avo."
They walked hand in hand until they were close to the camp. She sighed and looked at her grandfather one last time.
"If it goes sideways I'll see you soon."
"We all love you Cleo. We'll be right beside you, always." His voice echoed and faded, but she didn't watch him go.
"I love you too.." She whispered, staring ahead at the camp as she felt his presence fade.
== To be continued ==
== Portuguese- Avo = grandfather
#124
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.09 @ 23:45 (11:45 PM)
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
Thomas had spent the first half of shore leave debriefing officers, writing reports, and then making his report to Command at HQ. He’d then spent a week meeting with the best strategic minds in the Federation, reviewing their recommendations, and compiling his official report, titled: “Strategic Response to Krynar Inquisition”. This report was a comprehensive set of battle plans, including several options, on how to respond to the Krynar threat now that Star Fleet had what amounted to an effective weapon against the Krynar.
Operation Blue Moon, the effort to push the Krynar forces out of the Federation, combined with the retaking of Tellar, had been such a success that they felt that they had a real chance to succeed in stopping this threat.
It was believed that the Krynar kept over 90% of their military force in their home system. This was based on intelligence gathered by several major forces which had come in contact with them.
In the conclusion of Thomas’ report he had to admit that the suggested course of action was the most aggressive. That was, that Star Fleet should, while it could, take the fight to the Krynar. They would use the new transwarp gates, which were still experimental, located near the Sol system and Star Base Delta to send an attack fleet to the Krynar home system. This fleet would use the new weapon on every space station, ship, and major technological facility to eliminate the enemy’s ability to counter-attack or return with a major fighting force, at least for some time. Then monitoring stations would be placed in the system, and regular patrols would head there to monitor what was going on.
He then had to, reluctantly, recommend against his own plan.
The reasons were clear: Star Fleet was not, never had been, and should never become, the aggressor. Star Fleet was essentially an exploratory and defensive organization. Its materiel, personnel, and policy were not geared toward, nor should they be retooled to be geared toward, aggressive, offensive, conquest-type battle. It was a slippery slope to make an exception, and even though this plan had the greatest chance of ending hostilities rapidly, the other options still offered an acceptable chance of curbing the threat for at least a generation, perhaps more, which would give the Federation and other Alpha and Beta quadrant powers a chance to build a better defense.
The report, other than the approved plan, was never published outside the halls of SF Command HQ, so very few would ever know what other options were proposed, or what other comments were posted in the report.
Tyra didn’t even know the details of his concerns in the report, or the exact reasons for his reassignment, although she might be able to guess. Thomas was also pretty sure she felt more aggressively about the matter than he did. It made sense considering her career history, overall personality, and the fact that she’d been more intimately involved in the war at the front lines than he liked.
Grayson was to be re-assigned to Star Fleet Command on Earth, where he would continue to provide ‘advice on the strategic readiness requirements of the entire Star Fleet’. The position was called “Chief of Strategic Operations”, and he’d have a full staff, a nice office, and could live anywhere within transporter range of Star Fleet HQ.
He knew it was a ‘putting to pasture’, but he accepted that it was what was best. Plus, the position would allow him some new career options in the future.
He had spent the last half of shore leave with Tyra. They had beamed down to a resort on the island of Hawaii in the Pacific, and had, thus far, managed to stay out of trouble, and had only had minimal interruptions. Thomas checked and responded to his messages only once daily.
They had spent time on the beaches, touring the volcanoes, and Thomas was making his best effort to ensure his mother’s biggest wish were fulfilled in the next year. Truth was, it was also his wish, although he had a lot of concerns about Tyra galloping around the galaxy and those concerns would only grow as their family did.
She was also due to formally get command of Avenger, once they figured out what to do with Captain Grant. Truth was, Grayson liked Grant, but Grant was a loose cannon and an unknown quantity. He might take his desires for vengeance against the Krynar too far, take too many risks. Tyra knew this plan was in place, and knew that it was just a matter of time. Until then she’d remain in command, although officially as ‘Acting’ Commanding Officer. She had been encouraged to position a First Officer and establish her own command routines to help the crew make the adjustment, especially those from the alternity from which the Avenger came.
So it was when, during the morning, he had just reactivated his communicator for the half-hour he did so every day, and was just signing in on the holo-PADD to check his messages, while he and Tyra sat on a patio with an amazing tropical backdrop eating breakfast. And his communicator chirped, but not with the same tone that he was used to—the one from SF-HQ. It was a standard incoming, and as he pressed his finger to the contact to open the channel Tyra’s communicator also chirped.
[Munroe to Crawford and Grayson , I need y'all, Admiral Braggins is attempting to take Commander Azernal to Bajor despite the fleet's orders to remain here. I tried to stop Az but before I could Admiral Braggins ordered both myself and another Officer to leave. If necessary I can present evidence as well.]
He looked across the table to Tyra. He had no idea who this ‘Munroe’ was. He knew who Azernal was, and he certainly knew who Rear Admiral Braggins was. Orders had been given that all vessels other than those engaged in critical tasks elsewhere were to rally at Sol, be resupplied and restaffed, and deploy from here. No one was to leave without clearance.
That would most certainly include Commander Azernal, a member of Tyra’s crew. It might or might not include Braggins and the Anarchy, but if they were to depart, it would be something that someone would know about. Admiral or not, special forces or not, fleet movements of capital ships into or out of the Sol system was something that was closely monitored, especially at a time like this.
So Thomas just closed his holo-PADD and looked across the table at Tyra, expressing his confusion.
~I don’t know who this is, or what they want…~
Thomas had spent the first half of shore leave debriefing officers, writing reports, and then making his report to Command at HQ. He’d then spent a week meeting with the best strategic minds in the Federation, reviewing their recommendations, and compiling his official report, titled: “Strategic Response to Krynar Inquisition”. This report was a comprehensive set of battle plans, including several options, on how to respond to the Krynar threat now that Star Fleet had what amounted to an effective weapon against the Krynar.
Operation Blue Moon, the effort to push the Krynar forces out of the Federation, combined with the retaking of Tellar, had been such a success that they felt that they had a real chance to succeed in stopping this threat.
It was believed that the Krynar kept over 90% of their military force in their home system. This was based on intelligence gathered by several major forces which had come in contact with them.
In the conclusion of Thomas’ report he had to admit that the suggested course of action was the most aggressive. That was, that Star Fleet should, while it could, take the fight to the Krynar. They would use the new transwarp gates, which were still experimental, located near the Sol system and Star Base Delta to send an attack fleet to the Krynar home system. This fleet would use the new weapon on every space station, ship, and major technological facility to eliminate the enemy’s ability to counter-attack or return with a major fighting force, at least for some time. Then monitoring stations would be placed in the system, and regular patrols would head there to monitor what was going on.
He then had to, reluctantly, recommend against his own plan.
The reasons were clear: Star Fleet was not, never had been, and should never become, the aggressor. Star Fleet was essentially an exploratory and defensive organization. Its materiel, personnel, and policy were not geared toward, nor should they be retooled to be geared toward, aggressive, offensive, conquest-type battle. It was a slippery slope to make an exception, and even though this plan had the greatest chance of ending hostilities rapidly, the other options still offered an acceptable chance of curbing the threat for at least a generation, perhaps more, which would give the Federation and other Alpha and Beta quadrant powers a chance to build a better defense.
The report, other than the approved plan, was never published outside the halls of SF Command HQ, so very few would ever know what other options were proposed, or what other comments were posted in the report.
Tyra didn’t even know the details of his concerns in the report, or the exact reasons for his reassignment, although she might be able to guess. Thomas was also pretty sure she felt more aggressively about the matter than he did. It made sense considering her career history, overall personality, and the fact that she’d been more intimately involved in the war at the front lines than he liked.
Grayson was to be re-assigned to Star Fleet Command on Earth, where he would continue to provide ‘advice on the strategic readiness requirements of the entire Star Fleet’. The position was called “Chief of Strategic Operations”, and he’d have a full staff, a nice office, and could live anywhere within transporter range of Star Fleet HQ.
He knew it was a ‘putting to pasture’, but he accepted that it was what was best. Plus, the position would allow him some new career options in the future.
He had spent the last half of shore leave with Tyra. They had beamed down to a resort on the island of Hawaii in the Pacific, and had, thus far, managed to stay out of trouble, and had only had minimal interruptions. Thomas checked and responded to his messages only once daily.
They had spent time on the beaches, touring the volcanoes, and Thomas was making his best effort to ensure his mother’s biggest wish were fulfilled in the next year. Truth was, it was also his wish, although he had a lot of concerns about Tyra galloping around the galaxy and those concerns would only grow as their family did.
She was also due to formally get command of Avenger, once they figured out what to do with Captain Grant. Truth was, Grayson liked Grant, but Grant was a loose cannon and an unknown quantity. He might take his desires for vengeance against the Krynar too far, take too many risks. Tyra knew this plan was in place, and knew that it was just a matter of time. Until then she’d remain in command, although officially as ‘Acting’ Commanding Officer. She had been encouraged to position a First Officer and establish her own command routines to help the crew make the adjustment, especially those from the alternity from which the Avenger came.
So it was when, during the morning, he had just reactivated his communicator for the half-hour he did so every day, and was just signing in on the holo-PADD to check his messages, while he and Tyra sat on a patio with an amazing tropical backdrop eating breakfast. And his communicator chirped, but not with the same tone that he was used to—the one from SF-HQ. It was a standard incoming, and as he pressed his finger to the contact to open the channel Tyra’s communicator also chirped.
[Munroe to Crawford and Grayson , I need y'all, Admiral Braggins is attempting to take Commander Azernal to Bajor despite the fleet's orders to remain here. I tried to stop Az but before I could Admiral Braggins ordered both myself and another Officer to leave. If necessary I can present evidence as well.]
He looked across the table to Tyra. He had no idea who this ‘Munroe’ was. He knew who Azernal was, and he certainly knew who Rear Admiral Braggins was. Orders had been given that all vessels other than those engaged in critical tasks elsewhere were to rally at Sol, be resupplied and restaffed, and deploy from here. No one was to leave without clearance.
That would most certainly include Commander Azernal, a member of Tyra’s crew. It might or might not include Braggins and the Anarchy, but if they were to depart, it would be something that someone would know about. Admiral or not, special forces or not, fleet movements of capital ships into or out of the Sol system was something that was closely monitored, especially at a time like this.
So Thomas just closed his holo-PADD and looked across the table at Tyra, expressing his confusion.
~I don’t know who this is, or what they want…~
#125
Capt Tyra Crawford
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- Commanding Officers
-
- 2694 posts
Member
-
- Commanding Officer
- USS Artemis, EX-11000
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21402.10 @ 17:46 (05:46 PM)
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
Up until about a week earlier, when she'd grudgingly agreed that a vacation was needed before she sent herself into a stress induced breakdown, Tyra had been working herself into the ground, dealing with the Avenger and all the issues that a commanding officer got to deal with.
The situation certainly wasn't helped by the tight wire she felt she was walking by knowing the ship was hers without that being officially known. If she was honest, she was still incredibly uncomfortable with knowing that she was essentially stealing Grant's ship, even though she knew and agreed with the reasoning. But that about summed up her feelings on Grant in general; he had her loyalty based on the actions of the other Grant and she kept telling herself that she had no business feeling guilty about a decision that wasn't even hers.
Fortunately, she'd had more concrete things to focus on, like filling in open positions, such as FO, and acquiring a replacement for the Madison.
Once that had been completed, her attention had been caught, like most, by Starfleet's decision on the Krynar problem. She knew enough of the details to be surprised at the aggressiveness of the decision, but overall, she approved of it, as long as it was done for preemption, not revenge. However, she knew there would be many people uncomfortable with the decision and she suspected there might be some career casualties as people stepped aside on moral grounds. She didn't anticipate that issue with the Avenger's original crew but it was a possibility with the rest of the crew.
Actually, she suspected her husband was in that group as his sudden reassignment to HQ seemed a little too coincidental. However, that hadn't been in the string of questions she'd asked when he'd told her. Her focus had been on more concrete matters, like whether he was okay with it, where he was going to live now, and how often they'd potentially see each other.
Of all the current potentially unsettling changes she was dealing with at the moment, that had been the most dismaying initially as she'd gotten very use to her husband and home being on Delta. However, she'd settled into a resigned neutrality on the issue as it was not only out of her control but also, wasn't entirely horrible. While she certainly wasn't excited about the distance, Earth offered a stability and support that couldn't be found on Delta, and that opened the door for a few possibilities they'd been dragging their feet on.
Fortunately, all of those concerns and stresses couldn't have been further from her mind as she reclined in a chair on their patio in Hawaii, feeling grateful that Thomas had been as persistent as he had been in dragging her away from her office -- the strangeness of the role reversal hadn't been lost on her.
They'd quickly settled into quiet schedule, which had involved all the necessary parts of a successful vacation, including just enough time each morning to keep them both from being swamped on their return. However, Tyra had found that she spent that time enjoying the sun kissing her skin and the sea breeze tussling her hair more than doing anything actually productive. Then again, what was productivity with a mimosa balanced on her knee and a plate of fresh fruit to pick through?
Her mind had wandered off onto a tangent at one point during breakfast, most likely spurred on by the last conversion she'd had with her mother before leaving Alpha. She had just come to the conclusion that the only way to get her mother off of the idea of a second wedding next time she was on Earth was to give her something else to focus on, and only one possible thing would work as a long term distraction. She was about to voice that thought when she heard a communicator chirp, causing her to tip her head back to look at Thomas and then, their respective communicators.
The curiosity on her face turned to annoyed perplexity when she clearly recognized the voice coming through. It then shifted to frustration as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes before reaching for her own communicator.
~He's my COS; I asked him to keep an eye on Azernal because the commander has been having some... issues. Sounds like he wants back-up, though I guess he didn't get the memo about your reassignment,~ she answered and it was pretty clear that her frustration was directed towards Azernal and to a lesser degree, herself, not Munroe. She didn't exactly broadcast what the issues involving Az were but she also made no attempt to hide them from her husband either.
With Bajor's reappearance, she should have expected an issue, but once again, she'd taken Az at his word. Truthfully, if he was really set on tanking his career, she couldn't stop him but he'd be dragging a couple people with him as she and Derrick would get the joy of defending why they'd let him stay in place at all with his instability issues. She was starting to doubt that they'd made the right decision.
~ Two more missions with this crew and I'll probably be begging you to find me a teaching spot at the Academy... ~ she thought as she pressed her thumb into her communicator.
"Crawford here. Did you leave as ordered?" she asked, though she thought she knew the answer. She could hardly blame him; at lieutenant, she doubted she would have been eager to dish out a good case of insubordination to an admiral and Munroe wasn't the most assertive.
She muted that channel, and opened another, deciding that, short of calling base security to request the arrest of her SOD for something he hadn't done yet, going to the source was her best bet, even if she was starting to feel like she should just wring his neck for breaking promises to her again and being a general dumbass.
"Crawford to Azernal. So... I just got a really interesting message: any particular reason I should have concerns that you're about to do something incredibly shortsighted?"
Up until about a week earlier, when she'd grudgingly agreed that a vacation was needed before she sent herself into a stress induced breakdown, Tyra had been working herself into the ground, dealing with the Avenger and all the issues that a commanding officer got to deal with.
The situation certainly wasn't helped by the tight wire she felt she was walking by knowing the ship was hers without that being officially known. If she was honest, she was still incredibly uncomfortable with knowing that she was essentially stealing Grant's ship, even though she knew and agreed with the reasoning. But that about summed up her feelings on Grant in general; he had her loyalty based on the actions of the other Grant and she kept telling herself that she had no business feeling guilty about a decision that wasn't even hers.
Fortunately, she'd had more concrete things to focus on, like filling in open positions, such as FO, and acquiring a replacement for the Madison.
Once that had been completed, her attention had been caught, like most, by Starfleet's decision on the Krynar problem. She knew enough of the details to be surprised at the aggressiveness of the decision, but overall, she approved of it, as long as it was done for preemption, not revenge. However, she knew there would be many people uncomfortable with the decision and she suspected there might be some career casualties as people stepped aside on moral grounds. She didn't anticipate that issue with the Avenger's original crew but it was a possibility with the rest of the crew.
Actually, she suspected her husband was in that group as his sudden reassignment to HQ seemed a little too coincidental. However, that hadn't been in the string of questions she'd asked when he'd told her. Her focus had been on more concrete matters, like whether he was okay with it, where he was going to live now, and how often they'd potentially see each other.
Of all the current potentially unsettling changes she was dealing with at the moment, that had been the most dismaying initially as she'd gotten very use to her husband and home being on Delta. However, she'd settled into a resigned neutrality on the issue as it was not only out of her control but also, wasn't entirely horrible. While she certainly wasn't excited about the distance, Earth offered a stability and support that couldn't be found on Delta, and that opened the door for a few possibilities they'd been dragging their feet on.
Fortunately, all of those concerns and stresses couldn't have been further from her mind as she reclined in a chair on their patio in Hawaii, feeling grateful that Thomas had been as persistent as he had been in dragging her away from her office -- the strangeness of the role reversal hadn't been lost on her.
They'd quickly settled into quiet schedule, which had involved all the necessary parts of a successful vacation, including just enough time each morning to keep them both from being swamped on their return. However, Tyra had found that she spent that time enjoying the sun kissing her skin and the sea breeze tussling her hair more than doing anything actually productive. Then again, what was productivity with a mimosa balanced on her knee and a plate of fresh fruit to pick through?
Her mind had wandered off onto a tangent at one point during breakfast, most likely spurred on by the last conversion she'd had with her mother before leaving Alpha. She had just come to the conclusion that the only way to get her mother off of the idea of a second wedding next time she was on Earth was to give her something else to focus on, and only one possible thing would work as a long term distraction. She was about to voice that thought when she heard a communicator chirp, causing her to tip her head back to look at Thomas and then, their respective communicators.
The curiosity on her face turned to annoyed perplexity when she clearly recognized the voice coming through. It then shifted to frustration as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes before reaching for her own communicator.
~He's my COS; I asked him to keep an eye on Azernal because the commander has been having some... issues. Sounds like he wants back-up, though I guess he didn't get the memo about your reassignment,~ she answered and it was pretty clear that her frustration was directed towards Azernal and to a lesser degree, herself, not Munroe. She didn't exactly broadcast what the issues involving Az were but she also made no attempt to hide them from her husband either.
With Bajor's reappearance, she should have expected an issue, but once again, she'd taken Az at his word. Truthfully, if he was really set on tanking his career, she couldn't stop him but he'd be dragging a couple people with him as she and Derrick would get the joy of defending why they'd let him stay in place at all with his instability issues. She was starting to doubt that they'd made the right decision.
~ Two more missions with this crew and I'll probably be begging you to find me a teaching spot at the Academy... ~ she thought as she pressed her thumb into her communicator.
"Crawford here. Did you leave as ordered?" she asked, though she thought she knew the answer. She could hardly blame him; at lieutenant, she doubted she would have been eager to dish out a good case of insubordination to an admiral and Munroe wasn't the most assertive.
She muted that channel, and opened another, deciding that, short of calling base security to request the arrest of her SOD for something he hadn't done yet, going to the source was her best bet, even if she was starting to feel like she should just wring his neck for breaking promises to her again and being a general dumbass.
"Crawford to Azernal. So... I just got a really interesting message: any particular reason I should have concerns that you're about to do something incredibly shortsighted?"
#126
Guest_Cdr Azernal Rin_*
Guest_Cdr Azernal Rin_*
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- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.11 @ 04:38 (04:38 AM)
[Shortsighted? No. I'm going home Tyra. You can't tell me there would be a force in the universe that could keep you from your families side if they suddenly reappeared after 2 years. I have to know if they are really them. If they are my family. If they are back...real...alive. I have to touch them, hug them, see them!] he explained, the passion in his feeling clearly coming through the line.
[I know I'll be technically going AWOL - there's no way I'll be back in time for whenever we ship out, but I have to do this Tyra. Whatever consequences may come, I feel compelled to go to Bajor. Right now, this second. I feel like I can't sit still, I feel like I need to be moving toward getting to Bajor with everything I am. I can't explain it - but I have to go.]
[I know I'll be technically going AWOL - there's no way I'll be back in time for whenever we ship out, but I have to do this Tyra. Whatever consequences may come, I feel compelled to go to Bajor. Right now, this second. I feel like I can't sit still, I feel like I need to be moving toward getting to Bajor with everything I am. I can't explain it - but I have to go.]
#127
Guest_Ens Derek Sharpe_*
Guest_Ens Derek Sharpe_*
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- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.11 @ 16:58 (04:58 PM)
The trip from SBA down to Earth was smooth and eventless. The view of the approach to the planet was very beautiful and all who looked through the front window enjoyed the decent to the south east region of the north American continent. As the approach to the surface was appearing to pick a location, the forests of north Georgia greeted them, and eventually the blue waters of Lake Lanier.
Derek brought the shuttle in along it's eastern shore. " I will only hover over the water. In my last year at the acadamy i added a sensor system to the house so I will just link in and beam out what I need."
The shuttle lowered down to a few meters aove the water and the the view of the house finally was in the window for all to see.
<a href=
"That's the house. You all are welcome to visit whenever I am home, or stay if we arrange it ahead of time. Regardless I'd know you were there even if you needed an emergency place. There's 2 guest bedrooms aside from mine, and the sunroom. I am sort of tempted to enclose the room over the boat house, not sure yet."
[img][IMG]http://i65.photobucket.com/albums/h225/rhe220/Fedspace%20-%20Sharpe/SharpeHouse2c.jpg[/IMG][/img]
Derek linked the computer up to the house and soon two bottles of wine and some glasses were on the floor of the rear section. A third bottle was beamed in, a sweet cider.
"Cleo, could you hold out your arms in front of you?" he asked, looking back to check when she was ready.
==Tag y'all==
Derek brought the shuttle in along it's eastern shore. " I will only hover over the water. In my last year at the acadamy i added a sensor system to the house so I will just link in and beam out what I need."
The shuttle lowered down to a few meters aove the water and the the view of the house finally was in the window for all to see.
<a href=
"That's the house. You all are welcome to visit whenever I am home, or stay if we arrange it ahead of time. Regardless I'd know you were there even if you needed an emergency place. There's 2 guest bedrooms aside from mine, and the sunroom. I am sort of tempted to enclose the room over the boat house, not sure yet."
[img][IMG]http://i65.photobucket.com/albums/h225/rhe220/Fedspace%20-%20Sharpe/SharpeHouse2c.jpg[/IMG][/img]
Derek linked the computer up to the house and soon two bottles of wine and some glasses were on the floor of the rear section. A third bottle was beamed in, a sweet cider.
"Cleo, could you hold out your arms in front of you?" he asked, looking back to check when she was ready.
==Tag y'all==
Edited by Ens Derek Sharpe, Star Date 21402.11 @ 17:22 (05:22 PM).
#128
Guest_Ens Derek Sharpe_*
Guest_Ens Derek Sharpe_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.11 @ 17:33 (05:33 PM)
#129
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
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- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.11 @ 23:54 (11:54 PM)
>>Sheridan shuttlebay>>
Cleo and Zenon were having a quiet conversation when the albino motioned to the front of the shuttle, and out to the view. It was beautiful, but the south reminded her of one person, Johnny. She could hear his accent, especially the way he told her he loved her in that smooth way. Derek's voice broke her day dream of Johnny, but she was thankful.
"That's the house. You all are welcome to visit whenever I am home, or stay if we arrange it ahead of time. Regardless I'd know you were there even if you needed an emergency place. There's 2 guest bedrooms aside from mine, and the sunroom. I am sort of tempted to enclose the room over the boat house, not sure yet."
She didn't say anything, still frustrated and heart broken over the day dream. Further still she was wondering why she got to see Derek's home, but never had Johnny even invited her to meet his parents. Her nostrils flared in anger, until Zenon touched her arm, sensing her distress.
"I'm fine." She mumbled, and he released his grip.
"Cleo, could you hold out your arms in front of you?"
She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the bad feeling that had crept over her. She stepped up to Derek, and held her arms out to take what he had. Her face was still flush with anger, her lips pursed, it was obvious she was angry about something but she never spoke.
==Tag and lovely home==
Cleo and Zenon were having a quiet conversation when the albino motioned to the front of the shuttle, and out to the view. It was beautiful, but the south reminded her of one person, Johnny. She could hear his accent, especially the way he told her he loved her in that smooth way. Derek's voice broke her day dream of Johnny, but she was thankful.
"That's the house. You all are welcome to visit whenever I am home, or stay if we arrange it ahead of time. Regardless I'd know you were there even if you needed an emergency place. There's 2 guest bedrooms aside from mine, and the sunroom. I am sort of tempted to enclose the room over the boat house, not sure yet."
She didn't say anything, still frustrated and heart broken over the day dream. Further still she was wondering why she got to see Derek's home, but never had Johnny even invited her to meet his parents. Her nostrils flared in anger, until Zenon touched her arm, sensing her distress.
"I'm fine." She mumbled, and he released his grip.
"Cleo, could you hold out your arms in front of you?"
She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the bad feeling that had crept over her. She stepped up to Derek, and held her arms out to take what he had. Her face was still flush with anger, her lips pursed, it was obvious she was angry about something but she never spoke.
==Tag and lovely home
==
#130
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
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- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.12 @ 23:13 (11:13 PM)
Thomas shook his head at the response from Tyra. Their telepathic bond seemed to be exceptionally strong this shore leave, and he could tell not just what she was thinking, but how she was feeling. He shared those feelings.
Why is this person in any sort of command role? He needs to be patrolling the decks somewhere… like at a very remote mining station.
He didn’t answer the COMM, instead just listening to how his wife handled it. As far as he was concerned, other than the Admiral Braggins issue, this was clearly her problem. And that part of it was something he’d refer through the admiralty later. One of the advantages of being at HQ and being flag—you rarely had to rush things.
When Azernal responded was when Thomas first spoke, loud enough so the Commander would hear, even though he was addressing Tyra.
“Leaving at a time like this is not going AWOL, Captain. Tell the Commander that if he leaves the system it’s desertion, and at a minimum he’ll never wear the uniform again, and if I have my way he’ll spend the rest of his time in the worst penal settlement Star Fleet has access to. I might even call the Klingons to see if they need a Zakdorn/Bajoran laborer.”
He wasn’t happy. Not. At. All.
Why is this person in any sort of command role? He needs to be patrolling the decks somewhere… like at a very remote mining station.
He didn’t answer the COMM, instead just listening to how his wife handled it. As far as he was concerned, other than the Admiral Braggins issue, this was clearly her problem. And that part of it was something he’d refer through the admiralty later. One of the advantages of being at HQ and being flag—you rarely had to rush things.
When Azernal responded was when Thomas first spoke, loud enough so the Commander would hear, even though he was addressing Tyra.
“Leaving at a time like this is not going AWOL, Captain. Tell the Commander that if he leaves the system it’s desertion, and at a minimum he’ll never wear the uniform again, and if I have my way he’ll spend the rest of his time in the worst penal settlement Star Fleet has access to. I might even call the Klingons to see if they need a Zakdorn/Bajoran laborer.”
He wasn’t happy. Not. At. All.
#131
Capt Tyra Crawford
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- Commanding Officers
-
- 2694 posts
Member
-
- Commanding Officer
- USS Artemis, EX-11000
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21402.13 @ 04:14 (04:14 AM)
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
As she'd waited for an answer, Tyra had fidgeted in her chair, pulling her legs down from their relaxed perch on the patio railing to curl under her as she fidgeted with the glass in her hand. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable, but there were countless responses shifting through her thoughts, all viable depending on what Az gave her to work with, but she, honestly, was bracing for the worst.
She didn't have to wait long for an answer but the answer, filled with the first signs of passion and drive she'd seen in some time from Az, was hardly a comfort. Azernal could be downright stubborn on a good day but if he let his convictions cause him to dig in his heels, he was near unmovable. And that still didn't explain Braggins' presence in this mess, which seemed to be taking an enabling role. She wondered how frowned upon it would be to assault a flag officer for complicating matters…
“Leaving at a time like this is not going AWOL, Captain. Tell the Commander that if he leaves the system it’s desertion, and at a minimum he’ll never wear the uniform again, and if I have my way he’ll spend the rest of his time in the worst penal settlement Star Fleet has access to. I might even call the Klingons to see if they need a Zakdorn/Bajoran laborer," her husband said, and she was positive it was loud enough to make it through the communicator. It wasn't that he was wrong -- she entirely agreed -- but it probably wasn't the best way to de-escalate the situation.
She glared at him for that, though it was bellied by her free hand coming to rest on his arm gently. The touch was intended to pacify him, but she knew she'd miscalculated as she almost tangibly felt his mood seeping through their contact. Normally, it was a good feature of their relationship, allowing for a deeper bond, but it certainly had its limits.
She shifted again, her discomfort with this situation absolutely clear. She wasn't a counselor and unless she was dealing with an armed hostage taker, her negotiation skills left much to be desired. Then again, she wasn't certain there was much to be negotiated beyond deciding which she could live with more: getting a good friend arrested or knowingly letting someone go AWOL without reporting it.
"Az, he's right -- that would be desertion. And even on the off chance that someone felt compelled to lessen the charge to going AWOL, the subsequent investigation would dig up everything and your career would be absolutely decimated," she said, letting that sink in for moment.
"Maybe right this second you don't care about anything beyond getting to Bajor but I bet your family wouldn't want you to throw everything you've worked for away just so you can see them a few months earlier. They know what it means to you and wouldn't want to be the ones who bring that about…"
As she'd waited for an answer, Tyra had fidgeted in her chair, pulling her legs down from their relaxed perch on the patio railing to curl under her as she fidgeted with the glass in her hand. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable, but there were countless responses shifting through her thoughts, all viable depending on what Az gave her to work with, but she, honestly, was bracing for the worst.
She didn't have to wait long for an answer but the answer, filled with the first signs of passion and drive she'd seen in some time from Az, was hardly a comfort. Azernal could be downright stubborn on a good day but if he let his convictions cause him to dig in his heels, he was near unmovable. And that still didn't explain Braggins' presence in this mess, which seemed to be taking an enabling role. She wondered how frowned upon it would be to assault a flag officer for complicating matters…
“Leaving at a time like this is not going AWOL, Captain. Tell the Commander that if he leaves the system it’s desertion, and at a minimum he’ll never wear the uniform again, and if I have my way he’ll spend the rest of his time in the worst penal settlement Star Fleet has access to. I might even call the Klingons to see if they need a Zakdorn/Bajoran laborer," her husband said, and she was positive it was loud enough to make it through the communicator. It wasn't that he was wrong -- she entirely agreed -- but it probably wasn't the best way to de-escalate the situation.
She glared at him for that, though it was bellied by her free hand coming to rest on his arm gently. The touch was intended to pacify him, but she knew she'd miscalculated as she almost tangibly felt his mood seeping through their contact. Normally, it was a good feature of their relationship, allowing for a deeper bond, but it certainly had its limits.
She shifted again, her discomfort with this situation absolutely clear. She wasn't a counselor and unless she was dealing with an armed hostage taker, her negotiation skills left much to be desired. Then again, she wasn't certain there was much to be negotiated beyond deciding which she could live with more: getting a good friend arrested or knowingly letting someone go AWOL without reporting it.
"Az, he's right -- that would be desertion. And even on the off chance that someone felt compelled to lessen the charge to going AWOL, the subsequent investigation would dig up everything and your career would be absolutely decimated," she said, letting that sink in for moment.
"Maybe right this second you don't care about anything beyond getting to Bajor but I bet your family wouldn't want you to throw everything you've worked for away just so you can see them a few months earlier. They know what it means to you and wouldn't want to be the ones who bring that about…"
#132
Guest_Cdr Azernal Rin_*
Guest_Cdr Azernal Rin_*
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- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.13 @ 19:19 (07:19 PM)
[Channel closed] came the voice of the computer over the commbadge as Crawford lost connection with Az.
A moment later, the voice spoke again.
[Channel restored.]
And then, the shaky voice of Az could be heard.
[Tyra.] he said, his voice shaking more than he thought it might. [Tyra...I've, uh. I've, well...]
There was a pause.
[I've had a vision. Um, I need to go.] he said, before quickly following it up.
[Not go home. Go, tell someone. Right? I think that's right, I should probably tell someone.]
Suddenly he seemed to exclaim [Grayson. I should tell Grayson.]
And not at all directed to Tyra, she could hear him ask: "Computer, where is Admiral Grayson?"
A moment later, the voice spoke again.
[Channel restored.]
And then, the shaky voice of Az could be heard.
[Tyra.] he said, his voice shaking more than he thought it might. [Tyra...I've, uh. I've, well...]
There was a pause.
[I've had a vision. Um, I need to go.] he said, before quickly following it up.
[Not go home. Go, tell someone. Right? I think that's right, I should probably tell someone.]
Suddenly he seemed to exclaim [Grayson. I should tell Grayson.]
And not at all directed to Tyra, she could hear him ask: "Computer, where is Admiral Grayson?"
#133
Capt Tyra Crawford
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- Commanding Officers
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Member
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- Commanding Officer
- USS Artemis, EX-11000
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Posted Star Date 21402.14 @ 13:36 (01:36 PM)
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
[Channel closed,] her communicator stated nonchalantly, completely oblivious to the way Crawford's hand instinctively tightened around it.
"That bas--" she cut herself off from the string of curses that had been be bound to follow by taking a deep breath, her free hand relaxing from the tight grip it had briefly had on her husband's arm. The brief burst of anger she felt seemed to dissipate rapidly into a resignation of sorts; she wouldn't enjoy calling security but she also didn’t feel that guilt would be much of an issue now.
[Channel restored.] The statement drew a frown of confusion from her; communications from Alpha to Earth were rarely interrupted or lost, unless the idiot was already in the process of leaving the station.
She looked towards Thomas, trying to gauge his thoughts on this oddity, but what had been a questioning look turned into a frown as soon as Azernal began talking again, sounding more like a disorganized and confused person on the edge of a breakdown more than anything else. Considering she'd seen this first hand, it wasn't hard for her to imagine.
[I've had a vision. Um, I need to go.]
Alcohol induced hallucinations don't count as a viable reason to runaway… she thought with more bite than she's anticipated. Clearly, she was still a little skeptical of Azernal's road to recovery and it seemed with good reason…
[Not go home. Go, tell someone. Right? I think that's right, I should probably tell someone.]
"Az, have you been drinking again?" she asked, not sounding accusatory but the question certainly lacked any enthusiasm.
The question seemed to go unnoticed as his scattered mind seemed to latch onto something that made her audibly sigh. [Grayson. I should tell Grayson.] On the bright side, that meant he either hadn't heard Thomas' comment on desertion or hadn't recognized the voice.
She shook her head at her husband as she heard the commander request his position. As tempting as handing off this problem sounded, she wasn't about to hand her headache over to him unless it actually warranted it and last time she checked, the mental stability of ground level officers didn't exactly fall into a flag officer's direct concerns.
"If you can tell me exactly why you need the admiral, I might be able find him for you," she said, a slight hint of protectiveness slipping into the words.
In any other situation, she might have been amused by the fact that he was, in fact, right there, but at the moment, the only thing she was really thinking was that next time they went on vacation no communicators were allowed at all or they had to go somewhere without communication abilities at all.
[Channel closed,] her communicator stated nonchalantly, completely oblivious to the way Crawford's hand instinctively tightened around it.
"That bas--" she cut herself off from the string of curses that had been be bound to follow by taking a deep breath, her free hand relaxing from the tight grip it had briefly had on her husband's arm. The brief burst of anger she felt seemed to dissipate rapidly into a resignation of sorts; she wouldn't enjoy calling security but she also didn’t feel that guilt would be much of an issue now.
[Channel restored.] The statement drew a frown of confusion from her; communications from Alpha to Earth were rarely interrupted or lost, unless the idiot was already in the process of leaving the station.
She looked towards Thomas, trying to gauge his thoughts on this oddity, but what had been a questioning look turned into a frown as soon as Azernal began talking again, sounding more like a disorganized and confused person on the edge of a breakdown more than anything else. Considering she'd seen this first hand, it wasn't hard for her to imagine.
[I've had a vision. Um, I need to go.]
Alcohol induced hallucinations don't count as a viable reason to runaway… she thought with more bite than she's anticipated. Clearly, she was still a little skeptical of Azernal's road to recovery and it seemed with good reason…
[Not go home. Go, tell someone. Right? I think that's right, I should probably tell someone.]
"Az, have you been drinking again?" she asked, not sounding accusatory but the question certainly lacked any enthusiasm.
The question seemed to go unnoticed as his scattered mind seemed to latch onto something that made her audibly sigh. [Grayson. I should tell Grayson.] On the bright side, that meant he either hadn't heard Thomas' comment on desertion or hadn't recognized the voice.
She shook her head at her husband as she heard the commander request his position. As tempting as handing off this problem sounded, she wasn't about to hand her headache over to him unless it actually warranted it and last time she checked, the mental stability of ground level officers didn't exactly fall into a flag officer's direct concerns.
"If you can tell me exactly why you need the admiral, I might be able find him for you," she said, a slight hint of protectiveness slipping into the words.
In any other situation, she might have been amused by the fact that he was, in fact, right there, but at the moment, the only thing she was really thinking was that next time they went on vacation no communicators were allowed at all or they had to go somewhere without communication abilities at all.
#134
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
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Posted Star Date 21402.14 @ 16:14 (04:14 PM)
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
Thomas took a sip of his juice to cover the groan that he felt he wanted to make.
I forget how being a Captain is so much like being a babysitter.
Then he glimpsed Tyra with a sparkle in his eye. I guess its good training…
His next thought was very strong, clear, and… carnal.
Thomas took a sip of his juice to cover the groan that he felt he wanted to make.
I forget how being a Captain is so much like being a babysitter.
Then he glimpsed Tyra with a sparkle in his eye. I guess its good training…
His next thought was very strong, clear, and… carnal.
#135
Posted Star Date 21402.14 @ 19:56 (07:56 PM)
== San Francisco near Star Fleet Academy - unspecified timeline ==
Laura strolled along, in no particular hurry, occasionally looking in a shop window and considering its wares.
The doctor had been to visit a local art dealer who'd been recommended by her friend on SBD as someone who might be interested in selling some of her paintings. The meeting was successful and she'd arranged to have some canvases delivered to him in a few days.
With her business settled she had little to do until the class she was teaching later in the afternoon. It was a novelty for the Commander but she was fairly sure it would get old quickly.
Whilst she was admiring a particularly large amethyst in the window of a jewellers, a red-headed woman emerged from the shop next to it, with a push-chair in front of her and a rather unhappy child struggling to free itself from the seat. Laura was half-watching them as one of the woman's shopping bags caught on the door of the shop and split open, spilling its contents over the ground. She immediately moved forward to help gather up the items, which she noted were mainly for child care.
"Here you go..." She began, but broke off as recognition hit. "Grex!" Laura looked into the other woman's dark eyes with something akin to horror. "You're a mother?"
'You're alive?' Would probably have been more appropriate but somehow that wasn't as surprising.
Laura strolled along, in no particular hurry, occasionally looking in a shop window and considering its wares.
The doctor had been to visit a local art dealer who'd been recommended by her friend on SBD as someone who might be interested in selling some of her paintings. The meeting was successful and she'd arranged to have some canvases delivered to him in a few days.
With her business settled she had little to do until the class she was teaching later in the afternoon. It was a novelty for the Commander but she was fairly sure it would get old quickly.
Whilst she was admiring a particularly large amethyst in the window of a jewellers, a red-headed woman emerged from the shop next to it, with a push-chair in front of her and a rather unhappy child struggling to free itself from the seat. Laura was half-watching them as one of the woman's shopping bags caught on the door of the shop and split open, spilling its contents over the ground. She immediately moved forward to help gather up the items, which she noted were mainly for child care.
"Here you go..." She began, but broke off as recognition hit. "Grex!" Laura looked into the other woman's dark eyes with something akin to horror. "You're a mother?"
'You're alive?' Would probably have been more appropriate but somehow that wasn't as surprising.
#136
Guest_Cdr Azernal Rin_*
Guest_Cdr Azernal Rin_*
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Posted Star Date 21402.15 @ 16:57 (04:57 PM)
It took Az's addled brain a moment to hear her question, and when he did, he backtracked to it.
[What? No. I'm stone cold sober. Admiral Braggins is right here, he can tell you if you don't believe me.] he said, a little upset that his vision was being labeled as a drunken foray.
But then again, he had history. History he apparently "needed" to "grow" according to the Prophets.
Right. Grow. More like ruin my life.
[Give me one minute. 60 seconds to put my thoughts in order.] he requested of his new Captain.
It took about 64 seconds, but he contacted her again.
[Captain Crawford.] he began, the formality in his tone immediately indicating a different conversation than before.
[In the last few hours I felt compelled to go to Bajor, any price, and consequence. It was like I could not fathom any other course of action except to return as quickly as possible. I believe that drive was placed upon me by the Prophets.]
[I do not talk about my religion very often, but the Prophets, or wormhole aliens depending on what you want to call them, are real, and they are powerful. They have given visions to hundreds of people over the centuries. They gave one to me, just now.]
[Captain, I was told I am the new Emissary. The voice of the Prophets to the rest of the world. I have tasks I need to accomplish and a lot of images I don't understand.]
[I may not be career Star Fleet, but I'm fairly certain that when you become the voice of your deity, or at the very least extremely powerful aliens, you should probably run that up the chain of command.]
[That is why I wanted to speak to Admiral Grayson - last I checked, he would be the one I would want to report something like this to. However, if the voice I heard earlier was his as I believe it was, then I suppose I just reported it to him as well.] he finished.
Though his visions could still be considered by some to be hallucinations, or some could even say he was making them up totally, his absolute conviction and belief in what he saw was clear in his voice.
[Sisko was an Emissary, if you recall. I was told that I am now "like The Sisko" to quote. I believe I will need a full debriefing to share all of what I experienced with...well, with whoever will need to know.] he stopped talking now, waiting for a response with baited breath.
And then he waited
[What? No. I'm stone cold sober. Admiral Braggins is right here, he can tell you if you don't believe me.] he said, a little upset that his vision was being labeled as a drunken foray.
But then again, he had history. History he apparently "needed" to "grow" according to the Prophets.
Right. Grow. More like ruin my life.
[Give me one minute. 60 seconds to put my thoughts in order.] he requested of his new Captain.
It took about 64 seconds, but he contacted her again.
[Captain Crawford.] he began, the formality in his tone immediately indicating a different conversation than before.
[In the last few hours I felt compelled to go to Bajor, any price, and consequence. It was like I could not fathom any other course of action except to return as quickly as possible. I believe that drive was placed upon me by the Prophets.]
[I do not talk about my religion very often, but the Prophets, or wormhole aliens depending on what you want to call them, are real, and they are powerful. They have given visions to hundreds of people over the centuries. They gave one to me, just now.]
[Captain, I was told I am the new Emissary. The voice of the Prophets to the rest of the world. I have tasks I need to accomplish and a lot of images I don't understand.]
[I may not be career Star Fleet, but I'm fairly certain that when you become the voice of your deity, or at the very least extremely powerful aliens, you should probably run that up the chain of command.]
[That is why I wanted to speak to Admiral Grayson - last I checked, he would be the one I would want to report something like this to. However, if the voice I heard earlier was his as I believe it was, then I suppose I just reported it to him as well.] he finished.
Though his visions could still be considered by some to be hallucinations, or some could even say he was making them up totally, his absolute conviction and belief in what he saw was clear in his voice.
[Sisko was an Emissary, if you recall. I was told that I am now "like The Sisko" to quote. I believe I will need a full debriefing to share all of what I experienced with...well, with whoever will need to know.] he stopped talking now, waiting for a response with baited breath.
And then he waited
#137
Capt Tyra Crawford
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- USS Artemis, EX-11000
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Posted Star Date 21402.15 @ 23:30 (11:30 PM)
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
[Give me one minute. 60 seconds to put my thoughts in order,] the SOD requested, pulling her away from her wandering thoughts, before the channel went dead.
For a few moments, Tyra's attention was distracted from the headache brewing from the other side of the communication channel as a few moments of silence stretched out.
Tyra had to roll her eyes at the way her husband could go from being incredibly displeased with something to thinking of new ways to get her out of her clothes, especially at the most inappropriate times, but her grin and eyes told him that she wasn't opposed to the thoughts he was conjuring... as soon as this matter was handled.
~Let me solve this, at least temporarily, and we can work on that...~
She squeezed his arm, knowing that he'd be able to figure out that the 'that' she was referring to wasn't necessarily his feelings or desires but more likely the real source behind them. Her mild resistance to the whole idea of children of her own had been dwindling for some time to the point that it was nearly non-existent, meaning it was no longer a matter of if they would take that step, but rather when.
She shook her head slightly, knowing that wasn't a series of thoughts appropriate for right this moment.
I'm calling security if he doesn't call back… she thought, turning her attention back to breakfast after shooting Thomas a warning that sixty seconds wasn't nearly long enough for anything going on in his mind. She was really just picking at her fruit, having taken a few more sips of her drink, when her communicator chirped again.
This time, Az sounded formal and put together, a tone rarely used between the two outside of the bridge, and while it should have been comforting, it was a rather extreme about face that caused a slightly perplexed look. That look turned into utter confusion as he mentioned the Prophets for the first time -- as close of friends as they were, they'd never really broached this particular topic. What she knew of Bajoran beliefs came from Mihar, and Kata wasn't exactly the most attached to her heritage, having spent most of her life away from her home.
[Captain, I was told I am the new Emissary. The voice of the Prophets to the rest of the world. I have tasks I need to accomplish and a lot of images I don't understand.]
Now, she glanced at her husband, trying to decide if she'd had a little too much champagne with her orange juice, Azernal was just cracking in general, or things had just taken a wild turn into the weird arena.
[I may not be career Star Fleet, but I'm fairly certain that when you become the voice of your deity, or at the very least extremely powerful aliens, you should probably run that up the chain of command.]
Or go see a psychologist…
[That is why I wanted to speak to Admiral Grayson - last I checked, he would be the one I would want to report something like this to. However, if the voice I heard earlier was his as I believe it was, then I suppose I just reported it to him as well.]
Tyra opened her mouth to acknowledge that he'd be correct in that assumption, but she closed it right back, not sure what she was suppose to say exactly. If she put the absolute improbability of his story aside, she knew what Azernal was like when he was drinking, and this wasn't it. He could be confrontational, angry, and outright irrational, but he'd never shown an inclination towards delusions. She'd also seen him pretty much to the point of breaking down, and while he certainly had the art of self-hate down a science, he tended to be brutally honest and still very in touch with reality.
"Uh, give me a second," she said before muting the channel.
She knew she had to look bewildered as she looked at Thomas but she shook her head slightly. It might not fall under her husband's purview but it certainly fell closer to his paygrade than hers. She also didn't think she was the best person to judge the assertion based on her relationship with him -- she wanted to believe him, but whether that was because they were friends and she didn't want to accept he might be crazy or she truly believed it was possible was something she didn't know.
"He's been going through a rough patch, but he's shown no signs of delusions or mental disruptions -- just a really strong case of self-loathing and an overly guilty conscience…" she said, trying to explain away any of the doubts he might have caught racing through her thoughts.
[Give me one minute. 60 seconds to put my thoughts in order,] the SOD requested, pulling her away from her wandering thoughts, before the channel went dead.
For a few moments, Tyra's attention was distracted from the headache brewing from the other side of the communication channel as a few moments of silence stretched out.
Tyra had to roll her eyes at the way her husband could go from being incredibly displeased with something to thinking of new ways to get her out of her clothes, especially at the most inappropriate times, but her grin and eyes told him that she wasn't opposed to the thoughts he was conjuring... as soon as this matter was handled.
~Let me solve this, at least temporarily, and we can work on that...~
She squeezed his arm, knowing that he'd be able to figure out that the 'that' she was referring to wasn't necessarily his feelings or desires but more likely the real source behind them. Her mild resistance to the whole idea of children of her own had been dwindling for some time to the point that it was nearly non-existent, meaning it was no longer a matter of if they would take that step, but rather when.
She shook her head slightly, knowing that wasn't a series of thoughts appropriate for right this moment.
I'm calling security if he doesn't call back… she thought, turning her attention back to breakfast after shooting Thomas a warning that sixty seconds wasn't nearly long enough for anything going on in his mind. She was really just picking at her fruit, having taken a few more sips of her drink, when her communicator chirped again.
This time, Az sounded formal and put together, a tone rarely used between the two outside of the bridge, and while it should have been comforting, it was a rather extreme about face that caused a slightly perplexed look. That look turned into utter confusion as he mentioned the Prophets for the first time -- as close of friends as they were, they'd never really broached this particular topic. What she knew of Bajoran beliefs came from Mihar, and Kata wasn't exactly the most attached to her heritage, having spent most of her life away from her home.
[Captain, I was told I am the new Emissary. The voice of the Prophets to the rest of the world. I have tasks I need to accomplish and a lot of images I don't understand.]
Now, she glanced at her husband, trying to decide if she'd had a little too much champagne with her orange juice, Azernal was just cracking in general, or things had just taken a wild turn into the weird arena.
[I may not be career Star Fleet, but I'm fairly certain that when you become the voice of your deity, or at the very least extremely powerful aliens, you should probably run that up the chain of command.]
Or go see a psychologist…
[That is why I wanted to speak to Admiral Grayson - last I checked, he would be the one I would want to report something like this to. However, if the voice I heard earlier was his as I believe it was, then I suppose I just reported it to him as well.]
Tyra opened her mouth to acknowledge that he'd be correct in that assumption, but she closed it right back, not sure what she was suppose to say exactly. If she put the absolute improbability of his story aside, she knew what Azernal was like when he was drinking, and this wasn't it. He could be confrontational, angry, and outright irrational, but he'd never shown an inclination towards delusions. She'd also seen him pretty much to the point of breaking down, and while he certainly had the art of self-hate down a science, he tended to be brutally honest and still very in touch with reality.
"Uh, give me a second," she said before muting the channel.
She knew she had to look bewildered as she looked at Thomas but she shook her head slightly. It might not fall under her husband's purview but it certainly fell closer to his paygrade than hers. She also didn't think she was the best person to judge the assertion based on her relationship with him -- she wanted to believe him, but whether that was because they were friends and she didn't want to accept he might be crazy or she truly believed it was possible was something she didn't know.
"He's been going through a rough patch, but he's shown no signs of delusions or mental disruptions -- just a really strong case of self-loathing and an overly guilty conscience…" she said, trying to explain away any of the doubts he might have caught racing through her thoughts.
#138
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
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Posted Star Date 21402.16 @ 23:02 (11:02 PM)
Thomas’ reaction was to raise his eyebrows, in a sort of ‘wow’ expression.
~Sounds like a counselor is needed… this guy seems to have gone completely off the rails. Maybe having his homeworld ripped away did a number on him, but bringing it back seems to have finished him off.~
But he nodded.
“I’ll trust you to make the best decision for your ship, and the fleet, Tyra… of course…”
She could sense slight uncertainty there, though…
And of course technically it's not my problem anymore anyway.
~Sounds like a counselor is needed… this guy seems to have gone completely off the rails. Maybe having his homeworld ripped away did a number on him, but bringing it back seems to have finished him off.~
But he nodded.
“I’ll trust you to make the best decision for your ship, and the fleet, Tyra… of course…”
She could sense slight uncertainty there, though…
And of course technically it's not my problem anymore anyway.
#139
Capt Tyra Crawford
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- Commanding Officers
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- Commanding Officer
- USS Artemis, EX-11000
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Posted Star Date 21402.17 @ 02:13 (02:13 AM)
“I’ll trust you to make the best decision for your ship, and the fleet, Tyra… of course…”
That clearly wasn't the response she'd been expecting as she stared at Thomas before shaking her head and mumbling something that sounded awfully similar to 'duck' before she poured the rest of her mimosa in her mouth to keep anything else from coming out. That certainly didn't stop her thoughts though, and they were hardly complimentary of the situation.
...freakin' delightful… way to kick me off into the deep end, love… she thought towards the end of the string, not even bothering to try to control the increasing irritation she was feeling. It probably radiated at this point.
She wasn't sure if she was more irritated that she was suppose to make a judgment call that could quite easily tank her credibility and had to probably belong somewhere above her on the ladder or that she was being told to make a decision that her own damn husband seemed to have some doubts about her making the right call on.
No, she was pretty sure it was second point that caused the most irritation, and maybe, a twinge of something she didn't quite want to acknowledge.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, leaned her head back and took a deep breath. The steadying breath was either an attempt to beat back the growing headache she felt coming on or an attempt to remind herself that assaulting a flag officer was still a crime, even if she was married to the man.
It worked, she could feel the irritation drop back to a manageable level as she unmuted the channel. It was still certainly present at a lower, simmering level but it, at least, wasn't a flashing neon sign anymore and wouldn't be dripping from everything she said.
"I've been told, Commander, that this is something I need to handle. However, I'm not comfortable making this particular judgment -- all things considered, I'm far from unbiased when it comes to you and this… well, it's a pretty far reaching claim with pretty large implications. Unless you have any objections, I'd like to pass this further up the chain to the new FC with the recommendation that your claim be evaluated with all available methods," she said.
In her experience, those methods would probably range from a psych evaluation to a few sessions with a telepath, but they would serve the purpose of covering her own *** as well as verifying a claim that would probably be questioned by everyone that heard it. It would also either solve the issue of whether Azernal was going crazy or legitimately had a life changing experience.
That clearly wasn't the response she'd been expecting as she stared at Thomas before shaking her head and mumbling something that sounded awfully similar to 'duck' before she poured the rest of her mimosa in her mouth to keep anything else from coming out. That certainly didn't stop her thoughts though, and they were hardly complimentary of the situation.
...freakin' delightful… way to kick me off into the deep end, love… she thought towards the end of the string, not even bothering to try to control the increasing irritation she was feeling. It probably radiated at this point.
She wasn't sure if she was more irritated that she was suppose to make a judgment call that could quite easily tank her credibility and had to probably belong somewhere above her on the ladder or that she was being told to make a decision that her own damn husband seemed to have some doubts about her making the right call on.
No, she was pretty sure it was second point that caused the most irritation, and maybe, a twinge of something she didn't quite want to acknowledge.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, leaned her head back and took a deep breath. The steadying breath was either an attempt to beat back the growing headache she felt coming on or an attempt to remind herself that assaulting a flag officer was still a crime, even if she was married to the man.
It worked, she could feel the irritation drop back to a manageable level as she unmuted the channel. It was still certainly present at a lower, simmering level but it, at least, wasn't a flashing neon sign anymore and wouldn't be dripping from everything she said.
"I've been told, Commander, that this is something I need to handle. However, I'm not comfortable making this particular judgment -- all things considered, I'm far from unbiased when it comes to you and this… well, it's a pretty far reaching claim with pretty large implications. Unless you have any objections, I'd like to pass this further up the chain to the new FC with the recommendation that your claim be evaluated with all available methods," she said.
In her experience, those methods would probably range from a psych evaluation to a few sessions with a telepath, but they would serve the purpose of covering her own *** as well as verifying a claim that would probably be questioned by everyone that heard it. It would also either solve the issue of whether Azernal was going crazy or legitimately had a life changing experience.
#140
Trella Grex {Macleod}
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Posted Star Date 21402.17 @ 19:17 (07:17 PM)
== San Francisco near Star Fleet Academy - unspecified timeline ==
"Doctor Macleod." Trella said with some irritation. "How... surprising that we should run into each other."
She sounded about as happy as Laura did, though whilst the doctor's ire sprang from dislike, Grex just wasn't happy about the presumed parenthood.
"Derrick be quiet!" Her tone was closer to exasperation than she liked, especially when it was plain that her discomfort afforded Macleod some amusement. "And no, I am not its mother, she manipulated me into babysitting."
They moved away from the shop as they spoke and this last made Laura laugh, "I'd like to have seen that."
Trella smirked at a private joke of her own, "Somehow Doctor, I doubt you would."
"Did you call him Derrick?" She asked suddenly, as if the name had just sunk in. "Is he...?"
"No. No relation." The Betazoid replied firmly, and then relented slightly, "Though I believe they did name him in his honour."
They reached a bench and the Betazoid set about re-organising her baggage, taking the last few items from Laura and not bothering to try to maintain the conversation.
"Doctor Macleod." Trella said with some irritation. "How... surprising that we should run into each other."
She sounded about as happy as Laura did, though whilst the doctor's ire sprang from dislike, Grex just wasn't happy about the presumed parenthood.
"Derrick be quiet!" Her tone was closer to exasperation than she liked, especially when it was plain that her discomfort afforded Macleod some amusement. "And no, I am not its mother, she manipulated me into babysitting."
They moved away from the shop as they spoke and this last made Laura laugh, "I'd like to have seen that."
Trella smirked at a private joke of her own, "Somehow Doctor, I doubt you would."
"Did you call him Derrick?" She asked suddenly, as if the name had just sunk in. "Is he...?"
"No. No relation." The Betazoid replied firmly, and then relented slightly, "Though I believe they did name him in his honour."
They reached a bench and the Betazoid set about re-organising her baggage, taking the last few items from Laura and not bothering to try to maintain the conversation.
#141
Guest_Ens Derek Sharpe_*
Guest_Ens Derek Sharpe_*
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Posted Star Date 21402.18 @ 10:10 (10:10 AM)
==North Georgia, Lake Lanier==
There was another transporter buzz and above Cleo's arms came into view a folded handmade quilt of bright colors. When it had finally transported it fell lightly yet firmly into her arms, the weight crinkling it down in the middle a touch.
"That quilt was made by my Great great great Grandmother. It is a repaired recreation of it. The original has been in my family for a long time. I'd like you to have this one." he said, leaning over and placing one hand below and one above it, then saying quietly, "Strength and protection."
Derek smiled to her and went back to his console, disconnecting the shuttle from his house computer, and lifted the shuttle slowly back to flight altitude.
"And now to your stop Miss! When you're seated, we shall be off." he excplaimed to her.
When everyone was settled in and the wine glasses secured, the shuttle zipped off towards the next destination.
==Tags==
There was another transporter buzz and above Cleo's arms came into view a folded handmade quilt of bright colors. When it had finally transported it fell lightly yet firmly into her arms, the weight crinkling it down in the middle a touch.
"That quilt was made by my Great great great Grandmother. It is a repaired recreation of it. The original has been in my family for a long time. I'd like you to have this one." he said, leaning over and placing one hand below and one above it, then saying quietly, "Strength and protection."
Derek smiled to her and went back to his console, disconnecting the shuttle from his house computer, and lifted the shuttle slowly back to flight altitude.
"And now to your stop Miss! When you're seated, we shall be off." he excplaimed to her.
When everyone was settled in and the wine glasses secured, the shuttle zipped off towards the next destination.
==Tags==
Edited by Ens Derek Sharpe, Star Date 21402.18 @ 10:11 (10:11 AM).
#142
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
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- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.18 @ 15:52 (03:52 PM)
Cleo smiled down at the quilt, surprised by the gesture from someone she didn't really know that well. She looked over her shoulder to see Zenon shrug, as if he was a bit confused by it as well.
"Thank you. I'm sure Lorelei will love it."
She followed him up front and took a seat beside him, so she could see the house come into view. She knew as soon as they reached the edge of the Estate, it was so large it had its own name, Murkwood Manor. The ground was swampy and dense with trees around the Estate, but the ground smoothed out to reveal a beautiful garden, then the shuttle pad that sat north of the house. The house was a beautiful two story mansion, it looked like it was from a story, the white siding seemed to gleam in the sun as they landed.
"Welcome to Murkwood Derek, don't expect a warm welcome though." Cleo patted him on the shoulder as she wiggled from her seat.
"Do they know yet?" Zenon asked her, eyebrow raised as she passed him.
"No, she just said hes sick and I should come see him. I haven't been here since they told me to quit Starfleet and join a real school." She rolled her eyes and stepped out onto the lawn.
There was a path, stone and clearly went the long way to the door and a sign that read 'do not thread on the grass'. She ignored it, and made a beeline for the front door of the house, right through the nicely cut, green grass. It was quite a distance from the door, when she reached it the butler had spotted them and was waiting.
"Miss Cleo, what brings you to the Manor?"
"Grandmother said Gramps is sick." Her formal name for one and not the other was on purpose, it reflected her feelings on both of them.
"Yes, they are in the back garden. Would you like me to announce you?"
"No thanks, I can find em." She went through the door, out of the corner of her eye she saw the butler give a bow to Zenon and Derek.
"So, how freaked will she be to see me?" Zenon playfully nudged her with an elbow.
She smiled, "OH what do you mean? She loves you!" They both laughed.
The marble floors sparkled as they walked through the front door, stairs went up on both sides, also made of the same marble, leading to the second floor. She stopped, if you looked straight through you could see the back door, and the garden that was in full bloom. Either side of them lead to wings on the first floor, she thought about stopping by the kitchen but started walking again when she remembered they only had so much time.
"This place is huge Derek, don't wander off." She smiled at him, as she pushed open the french doors, leading out to the garden.
The smell of jasmine and honey suckle hit her nose first, she closed her eyes to inhale it with a peaceful smile. A stone path took many turns, through paths of flowers and bird feeders until they found a fountain that sat in a small clearing. A small, white table with two chairs sat nearby, with a dainty tea set sitting on top. One of the chairs was pulled aside to allow her grandfathers wheelchair to be pulled up to one side.
"Cleo?" It was her grandmothers shrill voice she heard first.
"The one and only." She walked to her grandfather first, and hugged his frail body.
His arms, though weak, wrapped around her and squeezed. He had lost weight, she could tell from touching him, then she saw the sickness and doctors appointments in a flash. She spun around to glare at her grandmother, who shrank back from the look.
"You said sick...not dieing! How dare you not tell me before now!"
"Cleo, you don't come around as it is, what did it matter?" The thick, English accent came out now. "And are you pregnant?! Is it his?" The way she looked at Zenon, with disgust, and asked, she considered saying it was just to shock her.
"No. Its an officer on my ship. Also, none of your business." Her nostrils flared in anger.
"Come child, have some tea. Bring your friends." She turned to see the outreached hand of her grandfather, and couldn't help but smile.
"I guess we have time for a cup."
The others were brought chairs, Cleo glared at her grandmother as she sat down. They were done talking about it all for now, but it was definitely not over.
==Tag. I'll let you react to it all then Ill wrap up in the other post. I didn't wanna highjack Sothrick, I'm not sure where he'd be.==
"Thank you. I'm sure Lorelei will love it."
She followed him up front and took a seat beside him, so she could see the house come into view. She knew as soon as they reached the edge of the Estate, it was so large it had its own name, Murkwood Manor. The ground was swampy and dense with trees around the Estate, but the ground smoothed out to reveal a beautiful garden, then the shuttle pad that sat north of the house. The house was a beautiful two story mansion, it looked like it was from a story, the white siding seemed to gleam in the sun as they landed.
"Welcome to Murkwood Derek, don't expect a warm welcome though." Cleo patted him on the shoulder as she wiggled from her seat.
"Do they know yet?" Zenon asked her, eyebrow raised as she passed him.
"No, she just said hes sick and I should come see him. I haven't been here since they told me to quit Starfleet and join a real school." She rolled her eyes and stepped out onto the lawn.
There was a path, stone and clearly went the long way to the door and a sign that read 'do not thread on the grass'. She ignored it, and made a beeline for the front door of the house, right through the nicely cut, green grass. It was quite a distance from the door, when she reached it the butler had spotted them and was waiting.
"Miss Cleo, what brings you to the Manor?"
"Grandmother said Gramps is sick." Her formal name for one and not the other was on purpose, it reflected her feelings on both of them.
"Yes, they are in the back garden. Would you like me to announce you?"
"No thanks, I can find em." She went through the door, out of the corner of her eye she saw the butler give a bow to Zenon and Derek.
"So, how freaked will she be to see me?" Zenon playfully nudged her with an elbow.
She smiled, "OH what do you mean? She loves you!" They both laughed.
The marble floors sparkled as they walked through the front door, stairs went up on both sides, also made of the same marble, leading to the second floor. She stopped, if you looked straight through you could see the back door, and the garden that was in full bloom. Either side of them lead to wings on the first floor, she thought about stopping by the kitchen but started walking again when she remembered they only had so much time.
"This place is huge Derek, don't wander off." She smiled at him, as she pushed open the french doors, leading out to the garden.
The smell of jasmine and honey suckle hit her nose first, she closed her eyes to inhale it with a peaceful smile. A stone path took many turns, through paths of flowers and bird feeders until they found a fountain that sat in a small clearing. A small, white table with two chairs sat nearby, with a dainty tea set sitting on top. One of the chairs was pulled aside to allow her grandfathers wheelchair to be pulled up to one side.
"Cleo?" It was her grandmothers shrill voice she heard first.
"The one and only." She walked to her grandfather first, and hugged his frail body.
His arms, though weak, wrapped around her and squeezed. He had lost weight, she could tell from touching him, then she saw the sickness and doctors appointments in a flash. She spun around to glare at her grandmother, who shrank back from the look.
"You said sick...not dieing! How dare you not tell me before now!"
"Cleo, you don't come around as it is, what did it matter?" The thick, English accent came out now. "And are you pregnant?! Is it his?" The way she looked at Zenon, with disgust, and asked, she considered saying it was just to shock her.
"No. Its an officer on my ship. Also, none of your business." Her nostrils flared in anger.
"Come child, have some tea. Bring your friends." She turned to see the outreached hand of her grandfather, and couldn't help but smile.
"I guess we have time for a cup."
The others were brought chairs, Cleo glared at her grandmother as she sat down. They were done talking about it all for now, but it was definitely not over.
==Tag. I'll let you react to it all then Ill wrap up in the other post. I didn't wanna highjack Sothrick, I'm not sure where he'd be.==
#143
Guest_Lt Keith Munroe_*
Guest_Lt Keith Munroe_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.18 @ 19:57 (07:57 PM)
[Captain, I know this is going to make me sound insane but….] Tyra heard Munroe hesitate to continue but after a second or two he did. [I just had what can only be described as a vision of Azernal being told he was the Emissary. I was told that I was to be the Guardian of the Emissary.]
== Tag Crawford and Grayson ==
== Tag Crawford and Grayson ==
Edited by Lt Keith Munroe, Star Date 21402.18 @ 19:58 (07:58 PM).
#144
Cdr Sothrick
-
- First Officers
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- 2250 posts
Member
-
- First Officer / Chief of Security
- USS Geronimo, CR-75250
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21402.20 @ 02:13 (02:13 AM)
>>Sheridan, Shuttle Bay>>
==North Georgia, Lake Lanier ==
As the view of Earth came into play Sothrick took a deep breath. It had been a long while since he was last on Earth. His mind wandered for a moment as the craft made its way down to the region known as Georgia.
Sharpe hovered the craft over the water and brought into view a domicile nestled up to the lake.
Sothrick was only half listening when a flood of strong emotion hit him. His eye lost all color as he darted around the small craft. His hand moved to a hidden dagger in his belt line sure the emotion he was feeling was coming from the young man he did not know but as his eyes caught her face he knew. It was not him it was her. Something had sparked anger and... jealousy? It was the mysterious man next to her that calmed her.
Sothrick sat back quietly releasing his hold on his hidden weapon. That was an issue being in such tight confined places emotions would hit him like a whistle in a canyon.
He eased back watching the two across from him as a quilt appeared in her arms.
Quickly the shuttle made its way to its next destination.
An old sprawling plantation the type Sothrick had seen on Earth before. Here it looked as if time stood still. Although modern touches were evident here and there the vast majority or the Estate looked like it had come straight from the history he had read about.
"Welcome to Murkwood" Banks declared.
The large Vulcan watched with a quiet surprise as they were invited to follow the other two.
Banks bounded ahead obviously knowing where she was headed.
They walked through the doors after being greeted by the homes servant.
They moved through the halls of the house and the Security Officer walking slowly and silently allowing the environment to fully soak in and made no noise as she conversed with her family.
Sothrick quickly felt as though they were intruding on a families personal time.
"Come child have some tea" said the older human.
For the first time Sothrick spoke up.
"Perhaps it would be best for Ensign Sharpe and myself to await you on the shuttle" He said to answer the older human but his silver gray eyes locked with Cleo's
== Tag, And feel free to drag me along a bit if needed ==
==North Georgia, Lake Lanier ==
As the view of Earth came into play Sothrick took a deep breath. It had been a long while since he was last on Earth. His mind wandered for a moment as the craft made its way down to the region known as Georgia.
Sharpe hovered the craft over the water and brought into view a domicile nestled up to the lake.
Sothrick was only half listening when a flood of strong emotion hit him. His eye lost all color as he darted around the small craft. His hand moved to a hidden dagger in his belt line sure the emotion he was feeling was coming from the young man he did not know but as his eyes caught her face he knew. It was not him it was her. Something had sparked anger and... jealousy? It was the mysterious man next to her that calmed her.
Sothrick sat back quietly releasing his hold on his hidden weapon. That was an issue being in such tight confined places emotions would hit him like a whistle in a canyon.
He eased back watching the two across from him as a quilt appeared in her arms.
Quickly the shuttle made its way to its next destination.
An old sprawling plantation the type Sothrick had seen on Earth before. Here it looked as if time stood still. Although modern touches were evident here and there the vast majority or the Estate looked like it had come straight from the history he had read about.
"Welcome to Murkwood" Banks declared.
The large Vulcan watched with a quiet surprise as they were invited to follow the other two.
Banks bounded ahead obviously knowing where she was headed.
They walked through the doors after being greeted by the homes servant.
They moved through the halls of the house and the Security Officer walking slowly and silently allowing the environment to fully soak in and made no noise as she conversed with her family.
Sothrick quickly felt as though they were intruding on a families personal time.
"Come child have some tea" said the older human.
For the first time Sothrick spoke up.
"Perhaps it would be best for Ensign Sharpe and myself to await you on the shuttle" He said to answer the older human but his silver gray eyes locked with Cleo's
== Tag, And feel free to drag me along a bit if needed ==
#145
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.20 @ 02:31 (02:31 AM)
==Glad you could join us Doing a lot of catch up tonight huh?==
Cleo watched her grandfathers crystal blue eyes move to look at Sothrick, and smile. She knew why, he had always had a fascination with Vulcans, his best friend at one time had been one.
"No no Master Vulcan, I insist you all grant a dieing old man his wish and have a seat. " He laughed, then went into a coughing fit for a moment.
He really is very sick....
She looked worried, but flashed him a smile as he looked up into her eyes again. Cleo introduced everyone, and the old man greeted them with a smile. Her grandmother had disappeared but that didn't surprise her at all.
"We're headed to Delta." Cleo told him, and he looked deep in thought.
"Well," He finally said, "Be careful Cleo, trouble follows you around like a rain cloud hovering about that pretty head."
She laughed, and put her hand over his frail hand, "I will try."
"Speak to your grandmother about the will soon. She will explain but I need you to take care of everything when I'm gone."
She sucked in her bottom lip at that sentence, trying not to cry, and all she could do was nod. When the tea was over he went for a nap, and Cleo lead the group back to the shuttle.
"What about the will?" Zenon said as they walked.
"I'll catch her later, I'm too angry to be civil right now." She said through gritted teeth.
She took her seat, and Zenon sat back down with his book. The look on her face spoke volumes, she was too upset to talk.
==Tag guys.==
Doing a lot of catch up tonight huh?==Cleo watched her grandfathers crystal blue eyes move to look at Sothrick, and smile. She knew why, he had always had a fascination with Vulcans, his best friend at one time had been one.
"No no Master Vulcan, I insist you all grant a dieing old man his wish and have a seat. " He laughed, then went into a coughing fit for a moment.
He really is very sick....
She looked worried, but flashed him a smile as he looked up into her eyes again. Cleo introduced everyone, and the old man greeted them with a smile. Her grandmother had disappeared but that didn't surprise her at all.
"We're headed to Delta." Cleo told him, and he looked deep in thought.
"Well," He finally said, "Be careful Cleo, trouble follows you around like a rain cloud hovering about that pretty head."
She laughed, and put her hand over his frail hand, "I will try."
"Speak to your grandmother about the will soon. She will explain but I need you to take care of everything when I'm gone."
She sucked in her bottom lip at that sentence, trying not to cry, and all she could do was nod. When the tea was over he went for a nap, and Cleo lead the group back to the shuttle.
"What about the will?" Zenon said as they walked.
"I'll catch her later, I'm too angry to be civil right now." She said through gritted teeth.
She took her seat, and Zenon sat back down with his book. The look on her face spoke volumes, she was too upset to talk.
==Tag guys.==
#146
Capt Tyra Crawford
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- Commanding Officers
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- 2694 posts
Member
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- Commanding Officer
- USS Artemis, EX-11000
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21402.20 @ 22:50 (10:50 PM)
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
Silence seemed to stretch or, maybe, she was merely impatient for a resolution that would ease the irritation and skepticism. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't finished her mimosa so quickly and then, pushed it away depriving her of something to fidget with restlessly.
She'd just reached out again, placing her hand on Thomas' arm as if in a silent apology for the irritation she'd directed at him a few moments earlier-- it might have been deserved but it was no way to spend their short time together - -, when another voice crackled through her communicator. She'd almost forgotten that this had all been started by Munroe's call.
[Captain, I know this is going to make me sound insane but….] Tyra heard Munroe hesitate to continue but after a second or two he did. [I just had what can only be described as a vision of Azernal being told he was the Emissary. I was told that I was to be the Guardian of the Emissary.]
There was an inaudible sigh from the redhead. ~ Are you sure this is the ship you want me on?~ Given the stress of enlightenment, she was starting to think everyone needed their heads checked.
This situation could not having been going in a direction that could have made Tyra any more uncomfortable. By nature, she was a skeptic and she'd always found difficulties in comprehending the sometimes fanatical beliefs of others, especially when it ventured into an abstract spiritualism. If she couldn't see it and it wasn't scientifically proven, the chances of her putting stock in it were minimal and her years of encountering weird things had only made her skepticism stronger. That was probably why she subscribed to an 'to each their own' viewpoint when it came to personal beliefs. She could keep her small belief in fate and an afterlife and they could keep whatever helped them sleep at night.
That was why she was probably one of the last people that needed to be anywhere near a decision that involved the validity of someone's beliefs.
"Lieutenant, I will tell you the same thing I just told the commander. I will be forwarding this... claim up the chain of command. Your name will be added to it as a witness, assuming that's what you want and are willing to swear to. After you two have been evaluated and interviewed, they'll make a decision regarding the claim..."
I'm not sure which is worse: potentially dealing with a messiah or having two crewmembers suffering from a connected psychosis...
Silence seemed to stretch or, maybe, she was merely impatient for a resolution that would ease the irritation and skepticism. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't finished her mimosa so quickly and then, pushed it away depriving her of something to fidget with restlessly.
She'd just reached out again, placing her hand on Thomas' arm as if in a silent apology for the irritation she'd directed at him a few moments earlier-- it might have been deserved but it was no way to spend their short time together - -, when another voice crackled through her communicator. She'd almost forgotten that this had all been started by Munroe's call.
[Captain, I know this is going to make me sound insane but….] Tyra heard Munroe hesitate to continue but after a second or two he did. [I just had what can only be described as a vision of Azernal being told he was the Emissary. I was told that I was to be the Guardian of the Emissary.]
There was an inaudible sigh from the redhead. ~ Are you sure this is the ship you want me on?~ Given the stress of enlightenment, she was starting to think everyone needed their heads checked.
This situation could not having been going in a direction that could have made Tyra any more uncomfortable. By nature, she was a skeptic and she'd always found difficulties in comprehending the sometimes fanatical beliefs of others, especially when it ventured into an abstract spiritualism. If she couldn't see it and it wasn't scientifically proven, the chances of her putting stock in it were minimal and her years of encountering weird things had only made her skepticism stronger. That was probably why she subscribed to an 'to each their own' viewpoint when it came to personal beliefs. She could keep her small belief in fate and an afterlife and they could keep whatever helped them sleep at night.
That was why she was probably one of the last people that needed to be anywhere near a decision that involved the validity of someone's beliefs.
"Lieutenant, I will tell you the same thing I just told the commander. I will be forwarding this... claim up the chain of command. Your name will be added to it as a witness, assuming that's what you want and are willing to swear to. After you two have been evaluated and interviewed, they'll make a decision regarding the claim..."
I'm not sure which is worse: potentially dealing with a messiah or having two crewmembers suffering from a connected psychosis...
#147
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.22 @ 18:01 (06:01 PM)
==Gypsy subplot==
Cleo looked down at her dirty Starfleet uniform, the cloth was obviously a magnet to everything out there and she looked horrible. She was trying to brush off her legs, when she heard the commotion ahead. She went for her knife, out of instinct, then cursed under her breath for the brilliant idea of being unarmed.
"Come out into the clearing!"
She put her hands up, and walked out to let them get a closer look, "Cleo Banks. Granddaughter of Victor Costos. Leader of the Southern Clans. I want to speak to Dolon." She shouted, and raised an eyebrow as more men shuffled out to the large overlook of the camp walls.
They were paranoid, but rightfully so, when a fight broke out camps were destroyed, the wall kept them safe. More bows were aimed at her, as the pause lingered on she wondered if they would shoot her there and be done with it. To her surprise the gate creaked open, and three men, heavily armed, walked to her with weapons drawn.
"We need to check you for weapons." The deep voice of a thick Greek accent barked at her.
One whispered, "What's she wearing?'
But Cleo just stood still, looking amused that they only sent three, Probably three that if I killed they wouldn't miss and they could shut the gate again..
A gun poked her back, "Alright, in you go, any problems, and I will kill you Caedo."
She smiled at him, his smirk faded when he saw the look in her eye and knew he would never have a chance. To say she was stared at would be an understatement, it looked like they were throwing a parade, and Cleo was the main event. She felt several twinges of guilt as she looked into some of their faces, she had killed some of their loved ones.
"There." She was shoved again, and turned to shoot the man a nasty look. He stepped back a step, trying to remain tough but she could see in his eyes that he was worried that she may strike.
With a deep breath she ducked into a small cottage, the smell of cooking meat and whiskey filled her nose. Dolon was smoking a cigar, legs resting on top of the desk he sat behind. He laughed deeply when he saw her, took a long puff, and put the cigar out.
"Why Cleo Banks. Have you come to fill a bounty in costume?" He rounded his desk, and plucked a leaf from her hair.
She stepped back, "No, I don't do that anymore...well unless provoked..."
Dolon smiled, and for a split second his face changed to his brothers, the one Cleo had killed. He arched an eyebrow, and stepped closer again, invading her personal space. This time she tilted her head, to match his slightly taller stance.
"What do you want Banks?" His voice grew deeper, it probably sounded threatening to most people.
"Peace."
He burst into a laugh, until he laughed so hard that he started to cough. He took his seat, grabbing a whiskey bottle from his desk and taking a large swig. He held it out to her, and she shook her head.
"I heard you were pregnant...maybe even scared now for the precious baby..."
This made her angry, she closed the distance between them and slammed her fists down on his desk. Her hands crinkled the maps on his desk as she leaned forward to stare him down.
"Listen to me and listen good, I am afraid of no one. Not you, or your scared men. Make peace or don't...it won't stop me from defending my people and my baby. This baby only makes me more determined to fight...and I'll die if I have to. The only people that you're hurting is your own. I don't just want peace for us, but with the outsiders as well. I can get you that. You have a son? Have they branded him yet?" She leaned back, and pulled her sleeve up to shove her number in his face.
He looked shocked as he stood, he even put his back to her, which as a Gypsy was something you never did. The dirtier the fight the better, none of them had a problem stabbing the other in the back. He sighed, and turned with a picture in his hand, holding it out to her.
"My wife Mira and our son."
She studied the beautiful face of his smiling wife, and the young boy who seemed to be just as happy. When she looked up the dark haired gypsy man was nodding, she had gotten through to him.
"Alright. Peace it is. For our children." He stuck out his hand, and they shook. "Do you need to stay and rest before your journey back?"
She peeked out the door, at the crowd that was still around, some holding weapons and looking very suspicious. She turned back to him, chuckling for a moment.
"I think I like having my head attached to my body. But I could use some food."
He called to the men as they walked out to grab some rations, and then raised his hands to the village, "Cleo has come to strike a deal, one of peace. No one is to follow her or harm her. There will be a meeting tonight." He turned to Cleo, "That may help but no promises."
She laughed again, "Thanks. I'll send Eric with the agreement." She took the food offered, and made way for the gate.
As she looked over her shoulder she saw Dolon wave to her, and she returned it, the heaviness of her heart gone now. She heard the gates close slowly behind her, but kept moving swiftly. If she knew Avalon he had followed her anyway, and wouldn't be far away.
Until that agreement is signed I shouldn't be out here alone...
She smiled as she heard a distant whinny, and heard the pounding of hooves creeping up on her. She hugged the beast as he greeted her, then mounted to ride off for the camp with haste.
"I did it Av..." She patted the horse as he ran, still smiling.
==End Timeline==
Cleo looked down at her dirty Starfleet uniform, the cloth was obviously a magnet to everything out there and she looked horrible. She was trying to brush off her legs, when she heard the commotion ahead. She went for her knife, out of instinct, then cursed under her breath for the brilliant idea of being unarmed.
"Come out into the clearing!"
She put her hands up, and walked out to let them get a closer look, "Cleo Banks. Granddaughter of Victor Costos. Leader of the Southern Clans. I want to speak to Dolon." She shouted, and raised an eyebrow as more men shuffled out to the large overlook of the camp walls.
They were paranoid, but rightfully so, when a fight broke out camps were destroyed, the wall kept them safe. More bows were aimed at her, as the pause lingered on she wondered if they would shoot her there and be done with it. To her surprise the gate creaked open, and three men, heavily armed, walked to her with weapons drawn.
"We need to check you for weapons." The deep voice of a thick Greek accent barked at her.
One whispered, "What's she wearing?'
But Cleo just stood still, looking amused that they only sent three, Probably three that if I killed they wouldn't miss and they could shut the gate again..
A gun poked her back, "Alright, in you go, any problems, and I will kill you Caedo."
She smiled at him, his smirk faded when he saw the look in her eye and knew he would never have a chance. To say she was stared at would be an understatement, it looked like they were throwing a parade, and Cleo was the main event. She felt several twinges of guilt as she looked into some of their faces, she had killed some of their loved ones.
"There." She was shoved again, and turned to shoot the man a nasty look. He stepped back a step, trying to remain tough but she could see in his eyes that he was worried that she may strike.
With a deep breath she ducked into a small cottage, the smell of cooking meat and whiskey filled her nose. Dolon was smoking a cigar, legs resting on top of the desk he sat behind. He laughed deeply when he saw her, took a long puff, and put the cigar out.
"Why Cleo Banks. Have you come to fill a bounty in costume?" He rounded his desk, and plucked a leaf from her hair.
She stepped back, "No, I don't do that anymore...well unless provoked..."
Dolon smiled, and for a split second his face changed to his brothers, the one Cleo had killed. He arched an eyebrow, and stepped closer again, invading her personal space. This time she tilted her head, to match his slightly taller stance.
"What do you want Banks?" His voice grew deeper, it probably sounded threatening to most people.
"Peace."
He burst into a laugh, until he laughed so hard that he started to cough. He took his seat, grabbing a whiskey bottle from his desk and taking a large swig. He held it out to her, and she shook her head.
"I heard you were pregnant...maybe even scared now for the precious baby..."
This made her angry, she closed the distance between them and slammed her fists down on his desk. Her hands crinkled the maps on his desk as she leaned forward to stare him down.
"Listen to me and listen good, I am afraid of no one. Not you, or your scared men. Make peace or don't...it won't stop me from defending my people and my baby. This baby only makes me more determined to fight...and I'll die if I have to. The only people that you're hurting is your own. I don't just want peace for us, but with the outsiders as well. I can get you that. You have a son? Have they branded him yet?" She leaned back, and pulled her sleeve up to shove her number in his face.
He looked shocked as he stood, he even put his back to her, which as a Gypsy was something you never did. The dirtier the fight the better, none of them had a problem stabbing the other in the back. He sighed, and turned with a picture in his hand, holding it out to her.
"My wife Mira and our son."
She studied the beautiful face of his smiling wife, and the young boy who seemed to be just as happy. When she looked up the dark haired gypsy man was nodding, she had gotten through to him.
"Alright. Peace it is. For our children." He stuck out his hand, and they shook. "Do you need to stay and rest before your journey back?"
She peeked out the door, at the crowd that was still around, some holding weapons and looking very suspicious. She turned back to him, chuckling for a moment.
"I think I like having my head attached to my body. But I could use some food."
He called to the men as they walked out to grab some rations, and then raised his hands to the village, "Cleo has come to strike a deal, one of peace. No one is to follow her or harm her. There will be a meeting tonight." He turned to Cleo, "That may help but no promises."
She laughed again, "Thanks. I'll send Eric with the agreement." She took the food offered, and made way for the gate.
As she looked over her shoulder she saw Dolon wave to her, and she returned it, the heaviness of her heart gone now. She heard the gates close slowly behind her, but kept moving swiftly. If she knew Avalon he had followed her anyway, and wouldn't be far away.
Until that agreement is signed I shouldn't be out here alone...
She smiled as she heard a distant whinny, and heard the pounding of hooves creeping up on her. She hugged the beast as he greeted her, then mounted to ride off for the camp with haste.
"I did it Av..." She patted the horse as he ran, still smiling.
==End Timeline==
#148
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
Guest_Dr Thomas Grayson (Adm-Ret)_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.22 @ 18:48 (06:48 PM)
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
~Insanity. Your whole crew needs to go for psychiatric evaluation. I’m serious, Tyra. Maybe it’s something in the ship… it did come from that other universe. Maybe some unknown inter-dimensional mis-alignment is causing everyone who goes aboard to go nuts. Grant was unstable, and his crew weren’t much better. Now those we’ve assigned there… we’ll discuss reassigning you and the crew when you get back. I’ll apply some pressure to Draev. Maybe we’ll just scuttle the Avenger.~
Thomas shook his head. He was being supportive the best way he knew how. Once the channel was muted he leaned close, and spoke softly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I pushed to get you into command of that ship, thinking maybe it would make it a safer place with a higher level of sanity…”
Then he chuckled, gave his crooked grin. “Greater sanity… from you… I should have known better.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek softly.
~The woman who’s driven me insane, and I expect her to bring sanity to the most undisciplined ship in the fourth fleet, if not the whole of Star Fleet.~
~Insanity. Your whole crew needs to go for psychiatric evaluation. I’m serious, Tyra. Maybe it’s something in the ship… it did come from that other universe. Maybe some unknown inter-dimensional mis-alignment is causing everyone who goes aboard to go nuts. Grant was unstable, and his crew weren’t much better. Now those we’ve assigned there… we’ll discuss reassigning you and the crew when you get back. I’ll apply some pressure to Draev. Maybe we’ll just scuttle the Avenger.~
Thomas shook his head. He was being supportive the best way he knew how. Once the channel was muted he leaned close, and spoke softly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I pushed to get you into command of that ship, thinking maybe it would make it a safer place with a higher level of sanity…”
Then he chuckled, gave his crooked grin. “Greater sanity… from you… I should have known better.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek softly.
~The woman who’s driven me insane, and I expect her to bring sanity to the most undisciplined ship in the fourth fleet, if not the whole of Star Fleet.~
#149
Posted Star Date 21402.23 @ 13:40 (01:40 PM)
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Harrison had managed to get away from the Copernicus reasonable quickly, he had done most of his paperwork on route from the Bajorian System, so that once they had docked all he had to do was turn the engineering department over to the base engineers and then beam down to Earth.
He had beamed down to the transport hub for the town of Versailles, Indiana and moved away from the centre of the town towards where his parents house was located, he could have beamed closer or directly into the garden, but he felt that it would be nice to walk through the street in which he had grown up in, especially as there had been a time (to him) which this town had ceased to exist.
The weather was superb, as far as he could tell there wasn't a cloud anywhere in the sky, this meant that there was no stopping the hot beautiful sun from shining down.
I can't believe that this place is here, I watched as the planet exploded and everyone was killed, now there is nothing wrong here and it looks like there never was anything bad that had happened or is going to happen.
It had taken a good twenty to twenty five minute to arrive at the front door of the house, the small garden at the front of the house had been looked as good as he could remember, the flowers were in full bloom and the area of grass had been immaculate kept.
He knew that the door would be unlocked and all he had to do was knock and then walk in and announce who was there, but he decided just to knock and wait.
After he knocked on the door, he heard someone heading towards it and a few seconds later it was pulled open by a female which Harrison knew extremely well.
"Harrison." Shouted the female voice.
Stepping forwards he wrapped his arms around his mother and gave her the biggest hug he could ever remember giving his mother, he felt himself start to well up with happiness and joy to see his mother again.
The shout of his name had brought the sound of feet either running or walking fast towards the front door.
"DADDY" came the voices of both his children, Tallulah and Lafayette.
After giving his mother a final squeeze of the hug, he broke away and squatted down to around the height of his children and they jumped into his open arms.
The feeling he felt while holding his children was something which couldn't be out into words, he loved his family more than anything in the entire galaxy and now he felt even closer to them than he had even felt before......ever.
He didn't want to let go of his children, but like most young children, they started to squirm and shift, so he finally released them and followed them into the living room area.
Sitting in his chair reading what looked like an old fashion book was his father, it looked there was nothing a miss about his son coming to visit them.
"Father." Harrison said in a way of a greeting to him.
Looking up from the book, his father looked him up and down and then replied.
"Harrison, you are looking well."
This was one of Simon's ways of showing he cared, he wasn't one of these men who fully showed his affection and caring for his children, but both Harrison and Oliver had learnt to read the small words.
"Have been better father, but can't complain about things." Harrison replied.
His enthusiasm and joyed dropped slightly as he noticed that one person was missing from the picture, he knew that she probably wasn't far away, but he wanted to hold her as well.
"Where's Jemima, I thought that she would be here?" He asked looking at both his mother and father.
"She went out for a walk, saying that the fresh air would do her some good." His mother answered.
It was like Jemima had heard the conversation which had just happened, as the next thing he heard was the back door opening and his wife's voice sounding out around the house.
"It's only me Kay, did you want me to start sorting out some for dinner or are we going to use the replicator tonight"
Harrison grinned at the sound of his wife's voice and the fact that she was again thinking about getting things ready for meal time and playing mother, like she did so well.
"We can sort it out in a while, why don't you come in here and take a load off, your starting to get even bigger and you know how much I worry" Kay said.
That part was completely true, Harrison mother was one of these people who worry over the smallest thing, he had gotten use to it over the years while he had been growing up, but since I left home he had forgotten about it.
Harrison had seen that his wife was getting bigger as the pregnancy carried on, but he didn't think that she was as big as she was while she was carrying Tallulah, but it had been a while since he had seen his wife, so anything is possible.
Harrison had remain standing where he had stopped to talk to his father, but was now facing the kitchen door, so that when his wife enter she would be able to see him, he watched the door open further and watched as his pregnant wife walked into the room.
The disappointment which had entered his mind when she wasn't originally there to meet him dissipated in a heart beat, she looked as beautiful and as radiant as ever as she moved into the room.
"Harrison" she screamed as she saw him.
The distance between they disappeared in a second as she sort of glided over the carpet towards him, she wrapping her arms around his neck she pressed her lips onto his, giving him a massive kiss.
As he held onto her tightly he could now final believe what Commander Ovonel had said that Earth hadn't been destroyed, he had is family around him.
He felt Jemima pull away from him to end the kiss, he would of liked to stay like that for ever, but that was always impractical.
He opened his eyes and saw his wife looking at him and into his green eyes and he hoped that she couldn't see what was going on in his soul.
The thing was that she knew him so well that she could tell that there was something botching him.
"What is it? What's wrong?" She asked.
I keep forgetting that she can read ever inch of me Harrison thought
"I will tell you later, it's nothing major." He answered.
==More to come==
Harrison had managed to get away from the Copernicus reasonable quickly, he had done most of his paperwork on route from the Bajorian System, so that once they had docked all he had to do was turn the engineering department over to the base engineers and then beam down to Earth.
He had beamed down to the transport hub for the town of Versailles, Indiana and moved away from the centre of the town towards where his parents house was located, he could have beamed closer or directly into the garden, but he felt that it would be nice to walk through the street in which he had grown up in, especially as there had been a time (to him) which this town had ceased to exist.
The weather was superb, as far as he could tell there wasn't a cloud anywhere in the sky, this meant that there was no stopping the hot beautiful sun from shining down.
I can't believe that this place is here, I watched as the planet exploded and everyone was killed, now there is nothing wrong here and it looks like there never was anything bad that had happened or is going to happen.
It had taken a good twenty to twenty five minute to arrive at the front door of the house, the small garden at the front of the house had been looked as good as he could remember, the flowers were in full bloom and the area of grass had been immaculate kept.
He knew that the door would be unlocked and all he had to do was knock and then walk in and announce who was there, but he decided just to knock and wait.
After he knocked on the door, he heard someone heading towards it and a few seconds later it was pulled open by a female which Harrison knew extremely well.
"Harrison." Shouted the female voice.
Stepping forwards he wrapped his arms around his mother and gave her the biggest hug he could ever remember giving his mother, he felt himself start to well up with happiness and joy to see his mother again.
The shout of his name had brought the sound of feet either running or walking fast towards the front door.
"DADDY" came the voices of both his children, Tallulah and Lafayette.
After giving his mother a final squeeze of the hug, he broke away and squatted down to around the height of his children and they jumped into his open arms.
The feeling he felt while holding his children was something which couldn't be out into words, he loved his family more than anything in the entire galaxy and now he felt even closer to them than he had even felt before......ever.
He didn't want to let go of his children, but like most young children, they started to squirm and shift, so he finally released them and followed them into the living room area.
Sitting in his chair reading what looked like an old fashion book was his father, it looked there was nothing a miss about his son coming to visit them.
"Father." Harrison said in a way of a greeting to him.
Looking up from the book, his father looked him up and down and then replied.
"Harrison, you are looking well."
This was one of Simon's ways of showing he cared, he wasn't one of these men who fully showed his affection and caring for his children, but both Harrison and Oliver had learnt to read the small words.
"Have been better father, but can't complain about things." Harrison replied.
His enthusiasm and joyed dropped slightly as he noticed that one person was missing from the picture, he knew that she probably wasn't far away, but he wanted to hold her as well.
"Where's Jemima, I thought that she would be here?" He asked looking at both his mother and father.
"She went out for a walk, saying that the fresh air would do her some good." His mother answered.
It was like Jemima had heard the conversation which had just happened, as the next thing he heard was the back door opening and his wife's voice sounding out around the house.
"It's only me Kay, did you want me to start sorting out some for dinner or are we going to use the replicator tonight"
Harrison grinned at the sound of his wife's voice and the fact that she was again thinking about getting things ready for meal time and playing mother, like she did so well.
"We can sort it out in a while, why don't you come in here and take a load off, your starting to get even bigger and you know how much I worry" Kay said.
That part was completely true, Harrison mother was one of these people who worry over the smallest thing, he had gotten use to it over the years while he had been growing up, but since I left home he had forgotten about it.
Harrison had seen that his wife was getting bigger as the pregnancy carried on, but he didn't think that she was as big as she was while she was carrying Tallulah, but it had been a while since he had seen his wife, so anything is possible.
Harrison had remain standing where he had stopped to talk to his father, but was now facing the kitchen door, so that when his wife enter she would be able to see him, he watched the door open further and watched as his pregnant wife walked into the room.
The disappointment which had entered his mind when she wasn't originally there to meet him dissipated in a heart beat, she looked as beautiful and as radiant as ever as she moved into the room.
"Harrison" she screamed as she saw him.
The distance between they disappeared in a second as she sort of glided over the carpet towards him, she wrapping her arms around his neck she pressed her lips onto his, giving him a massive kiss.
As he held onto her tightly he could now final believe what Commander Ovonel had said that Earth hadn't been destroyed, he had is family around him.
He felt Jemima pull away from him to end the kiss, he would of liked to stay like that for ever, but that was always impractical.
He opened his eyes and saw his wife looking at him and into his green eyes and he hoped that she couldn't see what was going on in his soul.
The thing was that she knew him so well that she could tell that there was something botching him.
"What is it? What's wrong?" She asked.
I keep forgetting that she can read ever inch of me Harrison thought
"I will tell you later, it's nothing major." He answered.
==More to come==
#150
Guest_Ens Derek Sharpe_*
Guest_Ens Derek Sharpe_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.25 @ 08:44 (08:44 AM)
==Murkwood Estate, Family of Cleo Banks==
Derek landed the shuttle and took a look around. He opened the side door and welcomed in warm fresh air, a nice contrast to the shuttle's processed ventilation. He set things to off and turned to her as she was preparing herself and chatting to her friend.
"Welcome to Murkwood Derek, don't expect a warm welcome though." Cleo patted him on the shoulder as she wiggled from her seat.
"Thank you. If the welcome will be mixed, I shall hang back by the shuttle then and relax.
He smiled as the three went off along a stone path and some lawn to a large manor plantation looking building. Derek stayed nearby the shuttle and found a less tended grassy area to relax on by the shade of a tree. it appeared to be an apple tree, and he was glad it shared it's shade with him. he closed his eyes and hummed a soft tune of classical concert piece.
==You can have somone interact with him if you like. I decided to hang back and let y'all enjoy the social interaction at the house==
Derek landed the shuttle and took a look around. He opened the side door and welcomed in warm fresh air, a nice contrast to the shuttle's processed ventilation. He set things to off and turned to her as she was preparing herself and chatting to her friend.
"Welcome to Murkwood Derek, don't expect a warm welcome though." Cleo patted him on the shoulder as she wiggled from her seat.
"Thank you. If the welcome will be mixed, I shall hang back by the shuttle then and relax.
He smiled as the three went off along a stone path and some lawn to a large manor plantation looking building. Derek stayed nearby the shuttle and found a less tended grassy area to relax on by the shade of a tree. it appeared to be an apple tree, and he was glad it shared it's shade with him. he closed his eyes and hummed a soft tune of classical concert piece.
==You can have somone interact with him if you like. I decided to hang back and let y'all enjoy the social interaction at the house==
#151
Cdr Sothrick
-
- First Officers
-
- 2250 posts
Member
-
- First Officer / Chief of Security
- USS Geronimo, CR-75250
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21402.26 @ 01:04 (01:04 AM)
==Murkwood Estate, Family of Cleo Banks ==
Sothrick looked back at the old man and nodded a deep nod at the old man and his invention. He was slow at answering the man and was relieved the young Science Officer spoke up and informed him that they would be leaving soon.
As they made there way back to the shuttle it was obvious that Banks was very upset.
"Ms. Banks, are you ...ok?" Sothrick asked obviously concerned but forcing the words so that they would be ... right.
Sothrick looked back at the old man and nodded a deep nod at the old man and his invention. He was slow at answering the man and was relieved the young Science Officer spoke up and informed him that they would be leaving soon.
As they made there way back to the shuttle it was obvious that Banks was very upset.
"Ms. Banks, are you ...ok?" Sothrick asked obviously concerned but forcing the words so that they would be ... right.
#152
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
Guest_Lt (JG) Cleo Banks_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21402.26 @ 07:27 (07:27 AM)
Cleo was still fuming about her grandmother when she looked up to see Sothrick was about to ask her something.
Don't ask about her...
"Ms. Banks, are you ...ok?" It sounded forced, she tried to relax so she could answer without making him feel his question annoyed her.
"I'll be okay. A little warning that he was dieing before I hugged him would have been nice, but what did I expect from her." The sentence grew in volume at the end. "This from a woman that told me Starfleet was a waste of time...yeah ok well I will let the Krynar know where your house is you old bat."
She rolled her eyes, and reached into her bag to grab an apple. She noticed they weren't moving, and wondered if Derek had wandered off.
"Where's the pilot?" She stood, and stepped outside again, and spotted him beside a tree.
"Hey!" She shouted at him, "Let's get the h*ll out of here!"
She plopped back down in her seat, and stared at the floor while she at her apple. She was dealing with the news of her grandfather like she did everything else, trying not to think about it.
==Alright pilot, you've been summoned!
==
Don't ask about her...
"Ms. Banks, are you ...ok?" It sounded forced, she tried to relax so she could answer without making him feel his question annoyed her.
"I'll be okay. A little warning that he was dieing before I hugged him would have been nice, but what did I expect from her." The sentence grew in volume at the end. "This from a woman that told me Starfleet was a waste of time...yeah ok well I will let the Krynar know where your house is you old bat."
She rolled her eyes, and reached into her bag to grab an apple. She noticed they weren't moving, and wondered if Derek had wandered off.
"Where's the pilot?" She stood, and stepped outside again, and spotted him beside a tree.
"Hey!" She shouted at him, "Let's get the h*ll out of here!"
She plopped back down in her seat, and stared at the floor while she at her apple. She was dealing with the news of her grandfather like she did everything else, trying not to think about it.
==Alright pilot, you've been summoned!
==
Edited by Lt (JG) Cleo Banks, Star Date 21402.26 @ 07:27 (07:27 AM).
#153
Posted Star Date 21402.27 @ 02:44 (02:44 AM)
==Pre-resignation of Character==
==In the grounds of Thomas Linacre Hospital==
Peter was hoping to see Jess as he moved thought the hospital, but he didn't even manage to catch any sign of her, he thought that might have been the case, especially as this was a busy hospital, which was dealing with hundreds of issues every day.
She knows that I will be back, when she doesn't find me at gran's bed. So no need to be concerned
The air which he used to fill his lungs couldn't have been better, it regelated the happy feeling which was inside him. Even thought gran will be needing possible care for the rest of her life, she was alive. What ever happened from this point onwards he would take as they come.
Peter knew that sometime in the future whether that would be in 1 year, 10 years or might be longer, that if things get really bad and either he couldn't physically deal with gran or she did pass over then his StarFleet record was clear and there would be a high possibility that he would be able to return to service, even if it meant a reduction in rank.
Knowing that the Copernicus was still docked at Alpha, the first place to look for Captain Hawk would be on the base. He could have just activated his combadge and asked for beam up to Alpha from the grounds of the hospital, but decided that the fresh air would do him the world of good, he would walk down to the nearest transport station and get transported up from there.
It was a good few minutes walk from the hospital to one of the outlying districts of the town and while he was walking he didn't met anyone he knew, he wasn't sure if that was a good omen or not, but at least it meant that he didn't end to engage in conversation.
At the transport station, Peter spoke to the attendant and after giving her the location in which he wanted to be transported too, only had to wait of a few minutes before he was able to set onto the pad and be transported to StarBase Alpha.
==There conversation between Powell and Hawk takes place from here on SBA and started on Star Date 21211.06 @ 07:03 (07:03 AM). The rest of the story take place after the characters resignation and way way before the attack on earth by the Krynar.==
==Thomas Linacre Hospital-Basingstoke-Hampshire-England, Intensive Care ward==
As he arrived back at the same transport station that he had left hours ago, he felt a heavy strain on his heart, but at the same time he felt a rise in his height, the mixture was a very strange feeling.
The other thing which felt different was that the material of the jeans and shift which now rubbed against his skin as he made the walk back to the hospital was strange, he had gotten use to the feel of the fibers that Starfleet uniforms were made, so anything different would take a while to get use too.
As he traversed the path back to the hospital, he mulled over in his mind everything that had lead him to the here and now and concluded that even when you see your future all mapped out in front of you and it is as clear as a bright sunny day, there will always be something which will make the path turn in another directing and make it look stormy and unpleasant.
Arriving at the hospital he used the lifts to get back to his grandmothers side, when he initially arrived she was asleep, as he looked at her, he hoped that her dreams were peaceful ones which involved her late husband, but he would never ask question which delved into her dreams as they would be her only escape from reality.
Placing his bag in the corner of the room and taking back the chair which was beside her bed and waited for whatever was going to happen.
He must have fallen asleep himself, as the next thing he remembered was his left arm being shaken and a female voice calling his name.
"Peter....Peter"
He opened his eyes to see that it was Jess who was calling his name.
"Morning Jess... How's things going?" He replied with a yawn and a small stretch.
"Morning????, it's midday and I've just finished my shift and we are going to get something to eat and then to sort out some things. So come on." She firmly stated.
Peter wasn't exactly sure what was happening, it sounded self explanatory, but it didn't connect with all the relevant departments in his brain, so he sat there looking at her, he must of had a bewildered look on his face as when she turned and looked at him again and was trying not to smile.
"You can't sit here all day and I know that you've not eaten since earlier, so get you backside out of that chair and come on." Jess stated again.
Peter always hated it when she was right and that was nearly 99% of the time, he should have protested and stood his ground, but he could never say no to her, no matter what it was about.
After getting to his feet and collecting his bag from the corner of the room, he leant over and kissed his gran on the head, "I will be back gran....promise". He then followed behind Jess kinda like a puppy dog following his master.
==Basingstoke Town Centre==
He wasn't sure where he was being taken, so he just followed and eventually they arrived in another district of the town, he hadn't visited this part for many many years, but he did notice that nothing had changed, maybe a few shops had come and gone, but the structure still looked exactly the same.
Jess had slipped her hand into his righthand and almost guided him around corner and down streets until they reached a medium size restaurant, as he approached it he looked up at the name of the place 'Firefly restaurant'.
I've never heard of this place.
As he was pulled inside the smell of the cooked food wafted under his noise and for the first time in hours he stomach rumbled at being empty.
They were seated towards the back of the restaurant, by one of the waiters, he seemed to know Jess, so Peter could only assume that she was kind of a regular in here.
Looking though the menu at what the place had to offer, he noticed that there were many dishes from around the world and even some from other planets, deciding that even though he liked food from other worlds! he would stick with something which he knew wouldn't upset his stomach.
After Jess had order her lasagne and a glass of mixed fruit juice, he ordered the BBQ pulled pork sandwich with chips and onion rings and a large glass of soda.
After the waiter had left with the order, there was a few moments where there was no talking between them two, as Peter wasn't sure where to start.
He watched as Jess moved forwards slightly and took hold of his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"She will be fine, the medication that they will give her will help her and with our help when she gets back to her home, she will be even better." She said.
Peter had lowered his eyes to look at their joined hands, the feeling of her touch was wonderful and he felt his heart grow with love and effect ion again for this woman.
He heard the words that Jess had spoken and it wasn't until the words 'our help' was said that he showed any sort of sign that he had heard her words.
"What do you mean 'our help'" he asked in a quizzical tone after looking up.
He saw Jess smile and knew what she was getting at, it looked like he wouldn't be looking after his gran all on his own.
"Only if your sure, I don't want to stop you from completing your medical studies and having a working life." Peter asked.
This was something which Jess had thought about and had done some sorting out.
"I've managed to arrange that my training continue, just at a slower rate. I explained that I was going to be helping a very close friend look after he is sick and possibly disabled grandmother" she answered.
Peter was surprised that Jess had managed to do all this in such a short space of time, he loved the fact that he would also have someone with him, who knew about caring for someone, as this was a brand new concept for him.
He didn't know what to say to her, so all he did was squeeze her hand to indicate that he was pleased.
At this point the food order arrived and they started eating, during the whole rest of the meal there was little conversation on Peters part, as he was now thinking about the future and what it might hold.
==More to come==
==In the grounds of Thomas Linacre Hospital==
Peter was hoping to see Jess as he moved thought the hospital, but he didn't even manage to catch any sign of her, he thought that might have been the case, especially as this was a busy hospital, which was dealing with hundreds of issues every day.
She knows that I will be back, when she doesn't find me at gran's bed. So no need to be concerned
The air which he used to fill his lungs couldn't have been better, it regelated the happy feeling which was inside him. Even thought gran will be needing possible care for the rest of her life, she was alive. What ever happened from this point onwards he would take as they come.
Peter knew that sometime in the future whether that would be in 1 year, 10 years or might be longer, that if things get really bad and either he couldn't physically deal with gran or she did pass over then his StarFleet record was clear and there would be a high possibility that he would be able to return to service, even if it meant a reduction in rank.
Knowing that the Copernicus was still docked at Alpha, the first place to look for Captain Hawk would be on the base. He could have just activated his combadge and asked for beam up to Alpha from the grounds of the hospital, but decided that the fresh air would do him the world of good, he would walk down to the nearest transport station and get transported up from there.
It was a good few minutes walk from the hospital to one of the outlying districts of the town and while he was walking he didn't met anyone he knew, he wasn't sure if that was a good omen or not, but at least it meant that he didn't end to engage in conversation.
At the transport station, Peter spoke to the attendant and after giving her the location in which he wanted to be transported too, only had to wait of a few minutes before he was able to set onto the pad and be transported to StarBase Alpha.
==There conversation between Powell and Hawk takes place from here on SBA and started on Star Date 21211.06 @ 07:03 (07:03 AM). The rest of the story take place after the characters resignation and way way before the attack on earth by the Krynar.==
==Thomas Linacre Hospital-Basingstoke-Hampshire-England, Intensive Care ward==
As he arrived back at the same transport station that he had left hours ago, he felt a heavy strain on his heart, but at the same time he felt a rise in his height, the mixture was a very strange feeling.
The other thing which felt different was that the material of the jeans and shift which now rubbed against his skin as he made the walk back to the hospital was strange, he had gotten use to the feel of the fibers that Starfleet uniforms were made, so anything different would take a while to get use too.
As he traversed the path back to the hospital, he mulled over in his mind everything that had lead him to the here and now and concluded that even when you see your future all mapped out in front of you and it is as clear as a bright sunny day, there will always be something which will make the path turn in another directing and make it look stormy and unpleasant.
Arriving at the hospital he used the lifts to get back to his grandmothers side, when he initially arrived she was asleep, as he looked at her, he hoped that her dreams were peaceful ones which involved her late husband, but he would never ask question which delved into her dreams as they would be her only escape from reality.
Placing his bag in the corner of the room and taking back the chair which was beside her bed and waited for whatever was going to happen.
He must have fallen asleep himself, as the next thing he remembered was his left arm being shaken and a female voice calling his name.
"Peter....Peter"
He opened his eyes to see that it was Jess who was calling his name.
"Morning Jess... How's things going?" He replied with a yawn and a small stretch.
"Morning????, it's midday and I've just finished my shift and we are going to get something to eat and then to sort out some things. So come on." She firmly stated.
Peter wasn't exactly sure what was happening, it sounded self explanatory, but it didn't connect with all the relevant departments in his brain, so he sat there looking at her, he must of had a bewildered look on his face as when she turned and looked at him again and was trying not to smile.
"You can't sit here all day and I know that you've not eaten since earlier, so get you backside out of that chair and come on." Jess stated again.
Peter always hated it when she was right and that was nearly 99% of the time, he should have protested and stood his ground, but he could never say no to her, no matter what it was about.
After getting to his feet and collecting his bag from the corner of the room, he leant over and kissed his gran on the head, "I will be back gran....promise". He then followed behind Jess kinda like a puppy dog following his master.
==Basingstoke Town Centre==
He wasn't sure where he was being taken, so he just followed and eventually they arrived in another district of the town, he hadn't visited this part for many many years, but he did notice that nothing had changed, maybe a few shops had come and gone, but the structure still looked exactly the same.
Jess had slipped her hand into his righthand and almost guided him around corner and down streets until they reached a medium size restaurant, as he approached it he looked up at the name of the place 'Firefly restaurant'.
I've never heard of this place.
As he was pulled inside the smell of the cooked food wafted under his noise and for the first time in hours he stomach rumbled at being empty.
They were seated towards the back of the restaurant, by one of the waiters, he seemed to know Jess, so Peter could only assume that she was kind of a regular in here.
Looking though the menu at what the place had to offer, he noticed that there were many dishes from around the world and even some from other planets, deciding that even though he liked food from other worlds! he would stick with something which he knew wouldn't upset his stomach.
After Jess had order her lasagne and a glass of mixed fruit juice, he ordered the BBQ pulled pork sandwich with chips and onion rings and a large glass of soda.
After the waiter had left with the order, there was a few moments where there was no talking between them two, as Peter wasn't sure where to start.
He watched as Jess moved forwards slightly and took hold of his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"She will be fine, the medication that they will give her will help her and with our help when she gets back to her home, she will be even better." She said.
Peter had lowered his eyes to look at their joined hands, the feeling of her touch was wonderful and he felt his heart grow with love and effect ion again for this woman.
He heard the words that Jess had spoken and it wasn't until the words 'our help' was said that he showed any sort of sign that he had heard her words.
"What do you mean 'our help'" he asked in a quizzical tone after looking up.
He saw Jess smile and knew what she was getting at, it looked like he wouldn't be looking after his gran all on his own.
"Only if your sure, I don't want to stop you from completing your medical studies and having a working life." Peter asked.
This was something which Jess had thought about and had done some sorting out.
"I've managed to arrange that my training continue, just at a slower rate. I explained that I was going to be helping a very close friend look after he is sick and possibly disabled grandmother" she answered.
Peter was surprised that Jess had managed to do all this in such a short space of time, he loved the fact that he would also have someone with him, who knew about caring for someone, as this was a brand new concept for him.
He didn't know what to say to her, so all he did was squeeze her hand to indicate that he was pleased.
At this point the food order arrived and they started eating, during the whole rest of the meal there was little conversation on Peters part, as he was now thinking about the future and what it might hold.
==More to come==
#154
Capt Tyra Crawford
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- Commanding Officers
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- 2694 posts
Member
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- Commanding Officer
- USS Artemis, EX-11000
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21403.02 @ 15:17 (03:17 PM)
== Hijacking of Munroe done with his permission ==
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
Tyra had slightly rolled her eyes at Thomas as his thoughts flowed freely into her mind, understanding where they were coming from but not finding them to be all that helpful; they might have caused a chuckle -- either because he was overreacting so badly or she really did agree with him -- if the channel hadn't still been live with her COS, who she doubted would understand why his CO was laughing while he was making a very serious claim.
Then, the channel clicked, indicating that it had been muted on the other end and she assumed that Munroe was either having a heart attack over possibly causing a problem or contemplating actually growing a backbone for the investigation that awaited for him. Either way, she was starting to think she should be insulted with how many people were putting her on mute.
“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, leaning closer once the channel had gone silent. “I pushed to get you into command of that ship, thinking maybe it would make it a safer place with a higher level of sanity…”
She arched her eyebrow as if to say that he might be the insane one to believe that. His following statement indicated that he was well aware, and her grin said that she clearly agreed with his conclusion, even if it softened to a warm smile as he kissed her cheek. There wasn't a realm -- well, maybe a nursery full of rambunctious three year olds -- where she could bring a greater amount of sanity to the table, and he, of all people, should know that first hand. After all, plenty of her impulsive nature had rubbed off on him in the years they'd been together.
~On the note of driving you insane--~ she started to think before she was cut off by a channel unmuting.
"Yes, ma'am. If that's what is necessary," her COS answered and if she wasn't mistaken, he sounded rather determined.
"Then, I will add your name to this whole mess. In the meantime, please go check on Azernal. If it seems like he needs a doctor or a shrink, call the appropriate authorities. If not, make sure he doesn't leave the damn base or I will personally make sure your next assignment is protecting a cargo shipment in the middle of nowhere," she said before closing the channel.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, her communicator still in her hand. She wasn't sure she actually expected a reply back from Azernal and if she was completely honest, she didn't think she wanted to hear anything more in regards to this whole mess. Fortunately, his only response was an agreement to her terms, and she left it at that with him.
Except you need to deal with this long enough to send it up the line… she thought as she very reluctantly stood up.
She leaned down to kiss her husband gently and affectionately, her hand squeezing his arm. "I should go deal with this but when I'm done, I could use help with a distraction..."
She stole one more kiss, nipping his lip as if her thoughts weren't enough to convey what she wanted, before she disappeared in search of her personal PADD, which was probably still buried in her suitcase.
She wished it could stay there...
== End Timeline as far as I'm concerned ==
== Courtyard King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii ==
Tyra had slightly rolled her eyes at Thomas as his thoughts flowed freely into her mind, understanding where they were coming from but not finding them to be all that helpful; they might have caused a chuckle -- either because he was overreacting so badly or she really did agree with him -- if the channel hadn't still been live with her COS, who she doubted would understand why his CO was laughing while he was making a very serious claim.
Then, the channel clicked, indicating that it had been muted on the other end and she assumed that Munroe was either having a heart attack over possibly causing a problem or contemplating actually growing a backbone for the investigation that awaited for him. Either way, she was starting to think she should be insulted with how many people were putting her on mute.
“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, leaning closer once the channel had gone silent. “I pushed to get you into command of that ship, thinking maybe it would make it a safer place with a higher level of sanity…”
She arched her eyebrow as if to say that he might be the insane one to believe that. His following statement indicated that he was well aware, and her grin said that she clearly agreed with his conclusion, even if it softened to a warm smile as he kissed her cheek. There wasn't a realm -- well, maybe a nursery full of rambunctious three year olds -- where she could bring a greater amount of sanity to the table, and he, of all people, should know that first hand. After all, plenty of her impulsive nature had rubbed off on him in the years they'd been together.
~On the note of driving you insane--~ she started to think before she was cut off by a channel unmuting.
"Yes, ma'am. If that's what is necessary," her COS answered and if she wasn't mistaken, he sounded rather determined.
"Then, I will add your name to this whole mess. In the meantime, please go check on Azernal. If it seems like he needs a doctor or a shrink, call the appropriate authorities. If not, make sure he doesn't leave the damn base or I will personally make sure your next assignment is protecting a cargo shipment in the middle of nowhere," she said before closing the channel.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, her communicator still in her hand. She wasn't sure she actually expected a reply back from Azernal and if she was completely honest, she didn't think she wanted to hear anything more in regards to this whole mess. Fortunately, his only response was an agreement to her terms, and she left it at that with him.
Except you need to deal with this long enough to send it up the line… she thought as she very reluctantly stood up.
She leaned down to kiss her husband gently and affectionately, her hand squeezing his arm. "I should go deal with this but when I'm done, I could use help with a distraction..."
She stole one more kiss, nipping his lip as if her thoughts weren't enough to convey what she wanted, before she disappeared in search of her personal PADD, which was probably still buried in her suitcase.
She wished it could stay there...
== End Timeline as far as I'm concerned ==
#155
Cdr Sothrick
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- First Officers
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- 2250 posts
Member
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- First Officer / Chief of Security
- USS Geronimo, CR-75250
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21403.06 @ 05:16 (05:16 AM)
==Murkwood Estates, Family of Cleo Banks==
"I'll be ok" She said then went into a small rant that was obvious she was angry at her family or more to the point a particular person of the family. In either way Sothrick could not think of anything that would calm her thoughts as he re-took his own seat. "Ill let the Krynar know where your house is you old bat" She ranted this statement caught the Vulcan so he in an uncharacteristic response attempted to add to her humor.
"Perhaps she can frustrate them enough that they will give up. She would be the hero of the galaxy at that point but" He turned to regard Cleo. Hopping his attempt at humor would not blow up in his face.
==Tag==
"I'll be ok" She said then went into a small rant that was obvious she was angry at her family or more to the point a particular person of the family. In either way Sothrick could not think of anything that would calm her thoughts as he re-took his own seat. "Ill let the Krynar know where your house is you old bat" She ranted this statement caught the Vulcan so he in an uncharacteristic response attempted to add to her humor.
"Perhaps she can frustrate them enough that they will give up. She would be the hero of the galaxy at that point but" He turned to regard Cleo. Hopping his attempt at humor would not blow up in his face.
==Tag==
#156
Posted Star Date 21404.14 @ 19:53 (07:53 PM)
== San Francisco near Star Fleet Academy - unspecified timeline ==
Laura sat on the bench and watched the older woman -- who apparently had dismissed her from her mind -- gather her things together and re-adjust the baby in his pram.
While no love was lost between them, the sight of someone connected with people, and a time, she still held dear, made the doctor feel her solitary state all the more, and she persisted with the conversation. "So, how have you been?"
She didn't dare ask the other question that sprang to mind, 'what have you been doing?', since knowing Trella, it was probably classified.
Or worse.
Little Derrick reached out a hand and Laura gave him a finger to shake. "Pleased to meet you Derrick. I'm Laura."
Whilst the half-Betazoid had never been known for her love of young children, she didn't mind them if they were well behaved and she wasn't expected to coo over them.
Laura sat on the bench and watched the older woman -- who apparently had dismissed her from her mind -- gather her things together and re-adjust the baby in his pram.
While no love was lost between them, the sight of someone connected with people, and a time, she still held dear, made the doctor feel her solitary state all the more, and she persisted with the conversation. "So, how have you been?"
She didn't dare ask the other question that sprang to mind, 'what have you been doing?', since knowing Trella, it was probably classified.
Or worse.
Little Derrick reached out a hand and Laura gave him a finger to shake. "Pleased to meet you Derrick. I'm Laura."
Whilst the half-Betazoid had never been known for her love of young children, she didn't mind them if they were well behaved and she wasn't expected to coo over them.
#157
Trella Grex {Macleod}
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- Retired Accounts
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- 42 posts
Member
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- Director of Operations
- SIS Consulting
- Link to BIO
Posted Star Date 21404.14 @ 20:00 (08:00 PM)
== San Francisco near Star Fleet Academy - unspecified timeline ==
Trella eyed the doctor with disfavour. No one would ever have called them friends, and no doubt no one ever would... Though the emnity had always been on Macleod's side, mostly because to Trella she was largely irrelevant. On the other hand, she knew the doctor had been loyal to Grant and a good friend to one of the two people who mean’t everything to her.
Tess would no doubt expect me to be nice to her. she sighed and sat beside Laura, giving in to the feelings aroused by the thought.
"It has been a long time Doctor," Grex shook her head, "I have 'been' good and not so good and good again, several times over, none of which I am free to discuss with yourself."
Trella's statement actually sounded harsher than she'd intended so to appease any ruffled feathers she may have inspired, she added. "Currently, I am content."
There was a pause and then she added, "...And yourself?"
It sounded awkward and was definitely an after-thought, but coming from Trella, and considering the circumstances, it was positively friendly.
Trella eyed the doctor with disfavour. No one would ever have called them friends, and no doubt no one ever would... Though the emnity had always been on Macleod's side, mostly because to Trella she was largely irrelevant. On the other hand, she knew the doctor had been loyal to Grant and a good friend to one of the two people who mean’t everything to her.
Tess would no doubt expect me to be nice to her. she sighed and sat beside Laura, giving in to the feelings aroused by the thought.
"It has been a long time Doctor," Grex shook her head, "I have 'been' good and not so good and good again, several times over, none of which I am free to discuss with yourself."
Trella's statement actually sounded harsher than she'd intended so to appease any ruffled feathers she may have inspired, she added. "Currently, I am content."
There was a pause and then she added, "...And yourself?"
It sounded awkward and was definitely an after-thought, but coming from Trella, and considering the circumstances, it was positively friendly.
#158
Guest_Cristina Fiore {Wozcienski}_*
Guest_Cristina Fiore {Wozcienski}_*
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- Guests
Posted Star Date 21404.18 @ 23:18 (11:18 PM)
== Fiorano Test Track, near Modena, Italy ==
It hadn’t been the best of days for Lorenzo di Natale. The Scuderia team principal had expected some negative press for his decision to replace an experienced racer with a fighter pilot. He hadn’t expected the withering scorn that had come from all angles. The decision to hire Cristina Fiore was being portrayed as a gimmick, a desperate attempt by a failing institution to revive itself that was doomed to failure.
The bouffant Italian had spent most of the morning trying to find his new recruit. She hadn’t showed up for the rehersals of her own unveiling and he knew for a fact her ship from Starbase Delta had docked 48 hours ago. News that she was on the test track was unexpected and unwelcome.
Throwing the door open to the monitoring room, which with its banks of displays, terminals and computers resembled some kind of launch control, di Natale spotted Fiore’s chief mechanic and stomped over in his direction.
“Where is my pilot and what is she doing out there?” he demanded. “We are trying to practice a damn press conference and she’s not there!”
The mechanic, a tall Englishman by the name of Joel Halford, just smiled.
“She just did a 1:48:39” he said.
Di Natale’s mouth hung open.
“She did what now? In this year’s ship? That’s...”
“Nearly 3 seconds faster than Konnen’s managed. I know.” Halford shook his head. “I tell you what, I was as doubtful as anyone else. But this girl is something else. She’s destroyed the best laptimes of our best pilot in years and it’s her doing as well.”
“How so?” Di Natale cocked his head. “I see someone ordered an industrial replicator even though we can’t use replicated parts and I’m going to dock their pay for that.”
“That one was Crissy. Sorry, Fiore.” Halford waved a hand. “She insists we all call her Crissy. No airs and graces there. But it was her idea. We can’t use replicated parts on the race craft. Those are the rules. But there’s no rule against replicating parts to test and that’s what we’ve done. Instead of simulations and tunnels we can test and tweak and send the ship out there and get real data back before we commit the time to engineering new parts.”
The mechanic gestured at a nearby terminal which powered up in response.
“The entire way back from Delta she was on the line to us. Ideas and suggestions. She had a couple of her own ideas to improve aerodynamics in atmo races and how we can get better transitions in the races that include re-entry. We’ve worked on them with her and the same second she got off the cruise liner she was down here testing them out.”
Di Natale’s smile was so wide it threatened to remove the top of his head.
“So she’s working out then” he said, beaming.
Halford nodded emphatically.
“Even if it turns out she doesn’t have the knack for racing, and frankly I think that’s unlikely, she’s made the ship that much faster already that having her around will pay for itself many times over.”
There was a chime and a new time flashed up in bright green above the massive window as a scarlet ship flashed past.
1:48:37.
“Holy ****. You keep her here and flying. I’ll sort the unveiling. She can just turn up and talk.”
Di Natale bustled out, shaking his head and laughing to himself. He’d show them all. He’d found an absolute gem and everyone was going to sit up and take note once word got around. They were all going to remember the names of Cristina Fiore and Lorenzo di Natale, the ones who were going to take Scuderia Rosso back to the top.
== 30 minutes later ==
The incredibly sleek ship slowed as it approached the sprawling hangar, nosing through the massive doors and landing on struts that emerged from the fuselage and wing tips.
The engines hadn’t finished their cooldown before the canopy was popped open and Crissy levered herself out, sliding down the wing in a manner that made her pit crew wince before landing nimbly and pulling off her helmet.
She felt like a million dollars in the Scuderia flight suit, bright scarlet with the enormous prancing horse crest front and centre. She had spent so long talking to the pit crew and engineers on the epic trip back from Delta she knew their names and what they all did long before even entering the building, and had gone about improving the ship with the kind of determination she had last employed in figuring out how to beat Krynar vessels.
Still ******* weird the enemy being lap times rather than fighters. But hey. Starfleet made their call. They didn’t want me. Scuderia did and I’m gonna make them so ******* glad they hired me...
Her chief mechanic Halford was waiting for her with a smile on his lips, and the pair exchanged a firm high five.
“I ******* told you! That point five of a degree is important!” she said with a grin.
“I hate when you’re right. It makes me not want to admit it” he threw back. “Oh, the boss came down here to see you.”
“And? What did he think?”
“You blew him away. You’re off the hook on the unveiling. Apparently you just have to turn up and answer some pre-prepared questions. They want you down here working on the ship now.”
Crissy’s smile widened as she clenched a fist and pumped her arm in celebration.
“Thank **** for that” she said. “None of them are gonna know who I am anyway so why do the whole thing? Hell, they wanted me turning out in a leather flight suit amidst a laser show...”
Halford chuckled.
“You’re still going to have to scrub up” he said. “Scuderia Rosso don’t do quiet. They like to make sure everyone knows about their new pilots.”
“Yeah, I know. But still. I’m glad I don’t have to do much more than stand at a podium.”
The mechanic nodded.
“Fair enough.”
There was a shout from deep in the hangar.
“Hey, superstar! Comm for you. There’s a delay on it it’s coming from so far away.”
Crissy wandered towards the nearest terminal.
“OK, patch it through” she called.
There was a second’s pause, then the Starfleet logo appeared. That in itself made Crissy pause for a moment.
[Call from Lieutenant Junior Grade Cellest Rubi, USS Chin’toka. There is a 20 second delay on this call.]
Cellest? I’m gonna kick Anne’s *** if she’s not looking after my girl!
Crissy unzipped her flight suit and shrugged off the top half, revealing the plain black t-shirt underneath. The helmet had turned her raven-black tresses into a tangled mess and her face was flushed after so much exertion, but none of that had ever seemed to matter when talking to her Edo friend.
After a few seconds the call connected.
“Hey you. This better not be another ******* plant” Crissy teased when Cellest appeared on the monitor screen.
It hadn’t been the best of days for Lorenzo di Natale. The Scuderia team principal had expected some negative press for his decision to replace an experienced racer with a fighter pilot. He hadn’t expected the withering scorn that had come from all angles. The decision to hire Cristina Fiore was being portrayed as a gimmick, a desperate attempt by a failing institution to revive itself that was doomed to failure.
The bouffant Italian had spent most of the morning trying to find his new recruit. She hadn’t showed up for the rehersals of her own unveiling and he knew for a fact her ship from Starbase Delta had docked 48 hours ago. News that she was on the test track was unexpected and unwelcome.
Throwing the door open to the monitoring room, which with its banks of displays, terminals and computers resembled some kind of launch control, di Natale spotted Fiore’s chief mechanic and stomped over in his direction.
“Where is my pilot and what is she doing out there?” he demanded. “We are trying to practice a damn press conference and she’s not there!”
The mechanic, a tall Englishman by the name of Joel Halford, just smiled.
“She just did a 1:48:39” he said.
Di Natale’s mouth hung open.
“She did what now? In this year’s ship? That’s...”
“Nearly 3 seconds faster than Konnen’s managed. I know.” Halford shook his head. “I tell you what, I was as doubtful as anyone else. But this girl is something else. She’s destroyed the best laptimes of our best pilot in years and it’s her doing as well.”
“How so?” Di Natale cocked his head. “I see someone ordered an industrial replicator even though we can’t use replicated parts and I’m going to dock their pay for that.”
“That one was Crissy. Sorry, Fiore.” Halford waved a hand. “She insists we all call her Crissy. No airs and graces there. But it was her idea. We can’t use replicated parts on the race craft. Those are the rules. But there’s no rule against replicating parts to test and that’s what we’ve done. Instead of simulations and tunnels we can test and tweak and send the ship out there and get real data back before we commit the time to engineering new parts.”
The mechanic gestured at a nearby terminal which powered up in response.
“The entire way back from Delta she was on the line to us. Ideas and suggestions. She had a couple of her own ideas to improve aerodynamics in atmo races and how we can get better transitions in the races that include re-entry. We’ve worked on them with her and the same second she got off the cruise liner she was down here testing them out.”
Di Natale’s smile was so wide it threatened to remove the top of his head.
“So she’s working out then” he said, beaming.
Halford nodded emphatically.
“Even if it turns out she doesn’t have the knack for racing, and frankly I think that’s unlikely, she’s made the ship that much faster already that having her around will pay for itself many times over.”
There was a chime and a new time flashed up in bright green above the massive window as a scarlet ship flashed past.
1:48:37.
“Holy ****. You keep her here and flying. I’ll sort the unveiling. She can just turn up and talk.”
Di Natale bustled out, shaking his head and laughing to himself. He’d show them all. He’d found an absolute gem and everyone was going to sit up and take note once word got around. They were all going to remember the names of Cristina Fiore and Lorenzo di Natale, the ones who were going to take Scuderia Rosso back to the top.
== 30 minutes later ==
The incredibly sleek ship slowed as it approached the sprawling hangar, nosing through the massive doors and landing on struts that emerged from the fuselage and wing tips.
The engines hadn’t finished their cooldown before the canopy was popped open and Crissy levered herself out, sliding down the wing in a manner that made her pit crew wince before landing nimbly and pulling off her helmet.
She felt like a million dollars in the Scuderia flight suit, bright scarlet with the enormous prancing horse crest front and centre. She had spent so long talking to the pit crew and engineers on the epic trip back from Delta she knew their names and what they all did long before even entering the building, and had gone about improving the ship with the kind of determination she had last employed in figuring out how to beat Krynar vessels.
Still ******* weird the enemy being lap times rather than fighters. But hey. Starfleet made their call. They didn’t want me. Scuderia did and I’m gonna make them so ******* glad they hired me...
Her chief mechanic Halford was waiting for her with a smile on his lips, and the pair exchanged a firm high five.
“I ******* told you! That point five of a degree is important!” she said with a grin.
“I hate when you’re right. It makes me not want to admit it” he threw back. “Oh, the boss came down here to see you.”
“And? What did he think?”
“You blew him away. You’re off the hook on the unveiling. Apparently you just have to turn up and answer some pre-prepared questions. They want you down here working on the ship now.”
Crissy’s smile widened as she clenched a fist and pumped her arm in celebration.
“Thank **** for that” she said. “None of them are gonna know who I am anyway so why do the whole thing? Hell, they wanted me turning out in a leather flight suit amidst a laser show...”
Halford chuckled.
“You’re still going to have to scrub up” he said. “Scuderia Rosso don’t do quiet. They like to make sure everyone knows about their new pilots.”
“Yeah, I know. But still. I’m glad I don’t have to do much more than stand at a podium.”
The mechanic nodded.
“Fair enough.”
There was a shout from deep in the hangar.
“Hey, superstar! Comm for you. There’s a delay on it it’s coming from so far away.”
Crissy wandered towards the nearest terminal.
“OK, patch it through” she called.
There was a second’s pause, then the Starfleet logo appeared. That in itself made Crissy pause for a moment.
[Call from Lieutenant Junior Grade Cellest Rubi, USS Chin’toka. There is a 20 second delay on this call.]
Cellest? I’m gonna kick Anne’s *** if she’s not looking after my girl!
Crissy unzipped her flight suit and shrugged off the top half, revealing the plain black t-shirt underneath. The helmet had turned her raven-black tresses into a tangled mess and her face was flushed after so much exertion, but none of that had ever seemed to matter when talking to her Edo friend.
After a few seconds the call connected.
“Hey you. This better not be another ******* plant” Crissy teased when Cellest appeared on the monitor screen.
#159
Guest_Lt(JG) Cellest Rubi_*
Guest_Lt(JG) Cellest Rubi_*
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- Guests
Posted Star Date 21404.30 @ 09:43 (09:43 AM)
[I wish I could touch you... Err, you know, the Edo in my wants that. Nothing … strange in my culture... hehe. Please come back ...]
The woman on the other end of the screen was clearly emotional. Her voice betrayed an individual on the verge of either collapse uncertain if that collapse was positive or negative. Whatever the case, she appeared happy to speak to Cristina.
The woman on the other end of the screen was clearly emotional. Her voice betrayed an individual on the verge of either collapse uncertain if that collapse was positive or negative. Whatever the case, she appeared happy to speak to Cristina.
Edited by Lt(JG) Cellest Rubi, Star Date 21404.30 @ 09:44 (09:44 AM).
#160
Posted Star Date 21405.01 @ 17:55 (05:55 PM)
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
A few hours later his father had gone with Tallulah and Lafayette out into the garden to play, it seemed that this was something which despite his age he loved to do at every occasion.
Harrison was now standing at the window watching the kids playing and keeping their grandfather busy by running around after them.
I can't believe that there was even a second that my kids didn't exist, I wouldn't have known what I would have done if the time line hadn't been sorted and they were alive.
Boislevesque wondered how he was going to tell his parents and Jemima about what had happened to them when the Krynar mothership had pushed Luna out of its orbit and plowing into the Earth and completely destroying it.
Feeling an arm push between his own and his torso, he looked at the reflection in the glass and noticed that his wife was leaning against him and looking at the image from the garden of the kids playing.
"They keep asking when they are returning to space and onto the ship." Jemima said.
This wasn't a surprise to Harrison, their children had been born and raised in space and aboard ships, they didn't know anything different, they also had their friends onboard as well.
"That was something that I was going to add to the conversation later on, but as you brought it up, now seems like a good enough time. I know this is going to be what anyone want, but I was thinking that maybe as this time it may be nice for you and the kids to stay on Earth for a while, especially as I wouldn't be able to do as much to looking after you and them two..." In indicated to the kids in the garden.
".... At least here, my parents would be able to help you and take more care of the kids."
Harrison stopped and looked again at his children playing in the garden, he wasn't sure if he should bring up about the fact that there had been rumours floating around the fleet that some ships were going to be assigned to head off and sort out the Krynar situation once and for all.
"The other thing is, I've heard though the grape vine that the Cop might be joining an armada of ships that are heading to sort out the Krynar situation and it might get extremely dangerous are I really would like for everyone to stay here and remain safe."
He wondered if it sounded right and that Jemima would take it how it was meant to sound, as not the way it sounded in his head after he had finished.
The arm that was wrapped around him retreated and he heard her move away towards the couch and then the grown of the leather as it took the strain of someone sitting on it.
Harrison turned at looked at his wife, she looked tired and like she would collapse at any minute.
"I figured that we would be having this child together, like we did with Tallulah and Lafayette" Jemima said.
He could tell in her voice that she really did want this and was hurt by the thought that he wouldn't be there during the birthing process.
Moving away from the window, Harrison sat next to his wife and took her hands into his.
"I do want to be there for the birth like I was with Tallulah and Lafayette, I was just thinking along the practicality lines and the safety of everyone."
As he spoke certain words in his last speech, he squeezed her hand indicating the words, in a hope that she would see where he was coming from and in a more desperate hope that she would agree with him.
"Not sure if I would be able to go through it without you being there." Jemima said.
The thing was that she could understand where he was coming from, he was a Chief now and he had other things to the about apart from the family.
Taking a large lungful of air, Jemima finally resolved herself to agree with him.
"It would be nice to have solid soil under my feet for a while and we both know how much the kids love being here with your parents and who knows the next mission which the Cop might be sent on could be even more dangerous and you don't need to have other worries on your mind." She stated.
There had been rumours running around for a while that the war against the Krynar which had been waging for a few years now might be about to escalate and that meant anything and the thought that the some of the fleet might be sent into an extremely dangerous situation had increased dramatically.
Harrison was pleased and relieved that she had finally agreed with what he was saying about staying here, but he knew that he would miss their presence on the ship.
==Time skip forwards a few hours==
It was around 2100 EST and the kids had been in bed around an hour when Jemima, himself and his parents had finally sat down in the living room for an evening of relaxation.
"So what were you going to tell us earlier, that you decided wasn't that important at the time" Jemima asked.
Harrison had been trying to put the destruction of Earth at the back of his mind, as it didn't happen now or at least it didn't happen to them.
Before he started speaking, he took a mouthful of coffee and composed himself and for his parents to also stop the conversation they had been having and focus on the answer which he was going to give.
"Did you ever see any news reports about them Krynar threat and what happened during their destructive path through our quadrants." He started.
Looking around he saw the look on all 3 of their faces, which indicated to him that they had indeed seen some reports.
"Well...." He stopped and took another drink. "This is going to sound mad and crazy, but I promise it is completely true. One of them motherships arrived in the Sol System and Command send the majority of the ship which were in the area to deal with it and things started to....well....go wrong."
Harrison felt his emotions starting to bubble up again, he could see in his minds eye the destruction of Earth and his imagination took over and he saw his while family huddle together holding onto each other and then being killed but it was very strange as his wife and parents were around him now listening to him and his kids were asleep upstairs.
"After we engage the shard vessels, the mother ship turned and fired its weapon directly at Luna, which pushed it out of orbit..."
This was definitely hard for Harrison to say as it was getting closer and closer to the bit which he hated to think about.
"...the trajectory that Luna was sent on was straight towards Earth and about three minutes later Luna impacted and Earth exploded."
This time Harrison couldn't hold back any longer and he started to cry.
He felt Jemima lean in and hug him, trying her hardened to comfort him.
"I don't want to sound insensitive son, but if that happened how comes we are sitting here now talking." His father asked.
Drying his eyes, Harrison looked up at his parents and noticed that even though there was concern in their eyes, he could tell that there was also confusion there as well.
"Following orders from Captain Fields, we managed to make an accurate sling shot around the sun and time traveled back in time to two-one-one-zero-eight point thirty. Bajor and StarBase Charlie had already been destroyed, so after going through some bits with StarBase Alpha we were granted permission to travel to the Bajoran system to try. There we managed to contact the Bajoran prophets and we managed to get most things reverted back, so somehow we managed to save Earth from total destruction as well as managing to get the planet Bajor to return to existence."
He could tell that what he was saying was sounding strange and he also had a feeling that his father might ask how it was done, but he wasn't sure if he really understood it.
"I don't really understand how we managed to save both worlds, as we only gave information containing to their destruction, but then again I was always one for hating temporal mechanics." Harrison finished.
Everyone know that he wasn't one for understanding stuff like temporal mechanics, but give him a transporter or a warp core he could run rings around most other people.
Harrison managed to collect his drink from the table which was in front of him and down the rest of the liquid.
At least there is now 'normality' in this universe.
Turning back to his parents, he knew that t was time that they asked them about Jemima and the kids staying here, while she finished her pregnancy and to keep her save from whatever the next mission that the ship would be sent on.
"Mom Dad, we have something to ask you. Following on from the event we've been talking about, I'm not sure exactly what the Cop's next mission will be and it may be even more dangerous than what we are use to and is it ok if Jemima and the children stay here until the ship returns, as I'm not sure if I can give her." He squeezed Jemima's hand as he spoke. "It might mean that the new member of our family might arrive while they are here." He asked.
Knowing his parents well, he knew that they wouldn't say no, but he had to ask anyway.
"Of course they can stay here, as long as they like." Answered his mother.
"Thanks Mom." He replied.
With the conversation over, he yawned and knew that it was time to head to bed as it had been a long day.
==End of time line==
A few hours later his father had gone with Tallulah and Lafayette out into the garden to play, it seemed that this was something which despite his age he loved to do at every occasion.
Harrison was now standing at the window watching the kids playing and keeping their grandfather busy by running around after them.
I can't believe that there was even a second that my kids didn't exist, I wouldn't have known what I would have done if the time line hadn't been sorted and they were alive.
Boislevesque wondered how he was going to tell his parents and Jemima about what had happened to them when the Krynar mothership had pushed Luna out of its orbit and plowing into the Earth and completely destroying it.
Feeling an arm push between his own and his torso, he looked at the reflection in the glass and noticed that his wife was leaning against him and looking at the image from the garden of the kids playing.
"They keep asking when they are returning to space and onto the ship." Jemima said.
This wasn't a surprise to Harrison, their children had been born and raised in space and aboard ships, they didn't know anything different, they also had their friends onboard as well.
"That was something that I was going to add to the conversation later on, but as you brought it up, now seems like a good enough time. I know this is going to be what anyone want, but I was thinking that maybe as this time it may be nice for you and the kids to stay on Earth for a while, especially as I wouldn't be able to do as much to looking after you and them two..." In indicated to the kids in the garden.
".... At least here, my parents would be able to help you and take more care of the kids."
Harrison stopped and looked again at his children playing in the garden, he wasn't sure if he should bring up about the fact that there had been rumours floating around the fleet that some ships were going to be assigned to head off and sort out the Krynar situation once and for all.
"The other thing is, I've heard though the grape vine that the Cop might be joining an armada of ships that are heading to sort out the Krynar situation and it might get extremely dangerous are I really would like for everyone to stay here and remain safe."
He wondered if it sounded right and that Jemima would take it how it was meant to sound, as not the way it sounded in his head after he had finished.
The arm that was wrapped around him retreated and he heard her move away towards the couch and then the grown of the leather as it took the strain of someone sitting on it.
Harrison turned at looked at his wife, she looked tired and like she would collapse at any minute.
"I figured that we would be having this child together, like we did with Tallulah and Lafayette" Jemima said.
He could tell in her voice that she really did want this and was hurt by the thought that he wouldn't be there during the birthing process.
Moving away from the window, Harrison sat next to his wife and took her hands into his.
"I do want to be there for the birth like I was with Tallulah and Lafayette, I was just thinking along the practicality lines and the safety of everyone."
As he spoke certain words in his last speech, he squeezed her hand indicating the words, in a hope that she would see where he was coming from and in a more desperate hope that she would agree with him.
"Not sure if I would be able to go through it without you being there." Jemima said.
The thing was that she could understand where he was coming from, he was a Chief now and he had other things to the about apart from the family.
Taking a large lungful of air, Jemima finally resolved herself to agree with him.
"It would be nice to have solid soil under my feet for a while and we both know how much the kids love being here with your parents and who knows the next mission which the Cop might be sent on could be even more dangerous and you don't need to have other worries on your mind." She stated.
There had been rumours running around for a while that the war against the Krynar which had been waging for a few years now might be about to escalate and that meant anything and the thought that the some of the fleet might be sent into an extremely dangerous situation had increased dramatically.
Harrison was pleased and relieved that she had finally agreed with what he was saying about staying here, but he knew that he would miss their presence on the ship.
==Time skip forwards a few hours==
It was around 2100 EST and the kids had been in bed around an hour when Jemima, himself and his parents had finally sat down in the living room for an evening of relaxation.
"So what were you going to tell us earlier, that you decided wasn't that important at the time" Jemima asked.
Harrison had been trying to put the destruction of Earth at the back of his mind, as it didn't happen now or at least it didn't happen to them.
Before he started speaking, he took a mouthful of coffee and composed himself and for his parents to also stop the conversation they had been having and focus on the answer which he was going to give.
"Did you ever see any news reports about them Krynar threat and what happened during their destructive path through our quadrants." He started.
Looking around he saw the look on all 3 of their faces, which indicated to him that they had indeed seen some reports.
"Well...." He stopped and took another drink. "This is going to sound mad and crazy, but I promise it is completely true. One of them motherships arrived in the Sol System and Command send the majority of the ship which were in the area to deal with it and things started to....well....go wrong."
Harrison felt his emotions starting to bubble up again, he could see in his minds eye the destruction of Earth and his imagination took over and he saw his while family huddle together holding onto each other and then being killed but it was very strange as his wife and parents were around him now listening to him and his kids were asleep upstairs.
"After we engage the shard vessels, the mother ship turned and fired its weapon directly at Luna, which pushed it out of orbit..."
This was definitely hard for Harrison to say as it was getting closer and closer to the bit which he hated to think about.
"...the trajectory that Luna was sent on was straight towards Earth and about three minutes later Luna impacted and Earth exploded."
This time Harrison couldn't hold back any longer and he started to cry.
He felt Jemima lean in and hug him, trying her hardened to comfort him.
"I don't want to sound insensitive son, but if that happened how comes we are sitting here now talking." His father asked.
Drying his eyes, Harrison looked up at his parents and noticed that even though there was concern in their eyes, he could tell that there was also confusion there as well.
"Following orders from Captain Fields, we managed to make an accurate sling shot around the sun and time traveled back in time to two-one-one-zero-eight point thirty. Bajor and StarBase Charlie had already been destroyed, so after going through some bits with StarBase Alpha we were granted permission to travel to the Bajoran system to try. There we managed to contact the Bajoran prophets and we managed to get most things reverted back, so somehow we managed to save Earth from total destruction as well as managing to get the planet Bajor to return to existence."
He could tell that what he was saying was sounding strange and he also had a feeling that his father might ask how it was done, but he wasn't sure if he really understood it.
"I don't really understand how we managed to save both worlds, as we only gave information containing to their destruction, but then again I was always one for hating temporal mechanics." Harrison finished.
Everyone know that he wasn't one for understanding stuff like temporal mechanics, but give him a transporter or a warp core he could run rings around most other people.
Harrison managed to collect his drink from the table which was in front of him and down the rest of the liquid.
At least there is now 'normality' in this universe.
Turning back to his parents, he knew that t was time that they asked them about Jemima and the kids staying here, while she finished her pregnancy and to keep her save from whatever the next mission that the ship would be sent on.
"Mom Dad, we have something to ask you. Following on from the event we've been talking about, I'm not sure exactly what the Cop's next mission will be and it may be even more dangerous than what we are use to and is it ok if Jemima and the children stay here until the ship returns, as I'm not sure if I can give her." He squeezed Jemima's hand as he spoke. "It might mean that the new member of our family might arrive while they are here." He asked.
Knowing his parents well, he knew that they wouldn't say no, but he had to ask anyway.
"Of course they can stay here, as long as they like." Answered his mother.
"Thanks Mom." He replied.
With the conversation over, he yawned and knew that it was time to head to bed as it had been a long day.
==End of time line==
#161
Guest_LCdr Anne Wozcienski_*
Guest_LCdr Anne Wozcienski_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21405.07 @ 15:22 (03:22 PM)
== Wrong account! ==
Edited by LCdr Anne Wozcienski, Star Date 21405.07 @ 15:23 (03:23 PM).
#162
Guest_Cristina Fiore {Wozcienski}_*
Guest_Cristina Fiore {Wozcienski}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21405.07 @ 15:24 (03:24 PM)
== Fiorano Test Track, near Modena, Italy ==
The pause due to distance was awkward, and by the time Cellest's response came through the pilot was tapping her fingers on the side of the console screen.
[I wish I could touch you... Err, you know, the Edo in my wants that. Nothing … strange in my culture... hehe. Please come back ...]
Crissy smiled wistfully, unable to stop herself touching the cheek of the Edo's image.
"Not my decision" she said. "If it was I'd probably still be out there with you now. But don't worry. There are races scheduled everywhere. At some point I'll end up around Delta and you better believe we'll catch up then."
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"How're you doing? Is Anne taking care of you? Because I don't want to have to try and kick her *** again. That never ends well for me but I will try if I have to" she joked.
The pause due to distance was awkward, and by the time Cellest's response came through the pilot was tapping her fingers on the side of the console screen.
[I wish I could touch you... Err, you know, the Edo in my wants that. Nothing … strange in my culture... hehe. Please come back ...]
Crissy smiled wistfully, unable to stop herself touching the cheek of the Edo's image.
"Not my decision" she said. "If it was I'd probably still be out there with you now. But don't worry. There are races scheduled everywhere. At some point I'll end up around Delta and you better believe we'll catch up then."
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"How're you doing? Is Anne taking care of you? Because I don't want to have to try and kick her *** again. That never ends well for me but I will try if I have to" she joked.
#163
Posted Star Date 21405.26 @ 20:57 (08:57 PM)
==After returning from Krynar mission==
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Harrison had almost run from the transporter station towards his parents house, he still hadn't had any word that Jemima had given birth, so he was hoping beyond hope that she hadn't been taken to the local medical centre.
As he knew the door lock code to the house, he punched the code in nearly breaking the door locking system and flung the door open.
There didn't seem to be any one in the hall way or any initially any noise coming from any where in the house, but a few seconds later his father came running from the garden into through the kitchen.
"What the hell is going on?" He shouted.
Even though he was out of breath, Harrison managed a reply.
"Sorry father, I just ran from the transporter station, hoping that I wouldn't miss Jemima before the birth starts."
He started to feel a stitch in his side, as even though he was a fit individual, he could be a bit more fitter.
"Well she hasn't even contemplated heading off to the hospital yet and you knew we would have sent you a message" he father answered still looking slightly annoyed.
Commander Boislevesque could feel the relief flowing over him, he hadn't missed the birth or even the start of the whole birthing process.
He closed the door and dropped his duffle bag down in a corner, so that no one would fall over it.
"She in the garden resting, go out and see her and I'll get the drink" Simon stated.
Grinning, Harrison moved through the house and out the back door and into the garden.
He slowly started walking down the path which lead to the middle section of the garden which had been set out with a garden table and chair set and a small sheltered bench.
Sitting in the middle of the bench was his very pregnant wife, she looked like she was getting slightly annoyed that the baby hadn't made his or her entrance into this world yet, but to Harrison she always loved beautiful and lovely.
Hoping that he would be able to get closer to her in before she saw him, he gentle walked along the path, but as most times she seemed to have sensed him and turned her head in his direction.
"You should know by now Harrison, that you can't sneak up on me" she state with a massive smile.
The next thing he realised was the sound of two sets of small running feet, getting louder and louder, then there was his two children hugging his legs, one on each side.
"Father....Father." The shouted.
He place his hands on there heads and gave their hair a ruffle, causing them to giggle.
"When are we returning home father." Lafayette asked.
A grin came over his face, he knew that the kids loved being onboard ship.
"I think it will be when either your new brother or sister is born or Captain Fields tells me to return." He answered.
As the kids released him, Harrison moved over to sit next to his wife.
==more later==
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Harrison had almost run from the transporter station towards his parents house, he still hadn't had any word that Jemima had given birth, so he was hoping beyond hope that she hadn't been taken to the local medical centre.
As he knew the door lock code to the house, he punched the code in nearly breaking the door locking system and flung the door open.
There didn't seem to be any one in the hall way or any initially any noise coming from any where in the house, but a few seconds later his father came running from the garden into through the kitchen.
"What the hell is going on?" He shouted.
Even though he was out of breath, Harrison managed a reply.
"Sorry father, I just ran from the transporter station, hoping that I wouldn't miss Jemima before the birth starts."
He started to feel a stitch in his side, as even though he was a fit individual, he could be a bit more fitter.
"Well she hasn't even contemplated heading off to the hospital yet and you knew we would have sent you a message" he father answered still looking slightly annoyed.
Commander Boislevesque could feel the relief flowing over him, he hadn't missed the birth or even the start of the whole birthing process.
He closed the door and dropped his duffle bag down in a corner, so that no one would fall over it.
"She in the garden resting, go out and see her and I'll get the drink" Simon stated.
Grinning, Harrison moved through the house and out the back door and into the garden.
He slowly started walking down the path which lead to the middle section of the garden which had been set out with a garden table and chair set and a small sheltered bench.
Sitting in the middle of the bench was his very pregnant wife, she looked like she was getting slightly annoyed that the baby hadn't made his or her entrance into this world yet, but to Harrison she always loved beautiful and lovely.
Hoping that he would be able to get closer to her in before she saw him, he gentle walked along the path, but as most times she seemed to have sensed him and turned her head in his direction.
"You should know by now Harrison, that you can't sneak up on me" she state with a massive smile.
The next thing he realised was the sound of two sets of small running feet, getting louder and louder, then there was his two children hugging his legs, one on each side.
"Father....Father." The shouted.
He place his hands on there heads and gave their hair a ruffle, causing them to giggle.
"When are we returning home father." Lafayette asked.
A grin came over his face, he knew that the kids loved being onboard ship.
"I think it will be when either your new brother or sister is born or Captain Fields tells me to return." He answered.
As the kids released him, Harrison moved over to sit next to his wife.
==more later==
#164
Posted Star Date 21406.01 @ 17:26 (05:26 PM)
==After returning from Krynar mission==
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Jemima grinned as he sat down next to her and then reached across and took hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze.
"The children have been asked for a few weeks about when we will be returning to the ship, think they miss their friends and their father." She stated.
The thought gave him a lift in his emotions, as he had missed all of them too.
"It's probably more to do with missing their friends than me." Harrison replied with an even more of a grin.
He knew that his kids did miss his, every time he returned to their quarters after bent on duty, they would come running to him and give him a massive hug.
This was why he had been glad that they had remained on earth during the last mission, he couldn't face the fact that there could have been a high chance that as there were heading into completely unknown space and they weren't sure if they would be coming back in one piece and he didn't want to think about ever losing any of his family.
"How did the ships last mission go?" Jemima asked.
He wasn't surprised at the question, especially as he had told her about the change in timelines before he left, but he wasn't sure how he should answer it, as the mission was fubar.
"It was ok, we managed to make sure that the Krynar won't be disturbing the peace that we had built up over the years again. The only thing was we lost the Ticonderoga." Harrison answered.
He didn't want to go into details and he knew that Jemima wouldn't ask for them.
It felt nice sitting here relaxing and doing very little, even though he could relax on the ship there was nothing like being away from all that and not having to worry about being called anywhere at a moments notice.
Harrison must of fallen asleep for a little while as the next thing the he remembers was being awoken by his mother saying that dinner was on the table.
The weather was still wonderful, but looking up at the sky there were indications that it was going to start getting darker soon, as night must be approaching.
Following behind his mother, Harrison entered the house and moved directly into the dinning room to where everyone was sitting down.
Taking the seat next to his wife he spoke.
"Apologies for falling asleep, surprised you didn't punch me to wake me up."
Knowing what he wife would say he grinned at his own cheek.
"Well I did consider doing that, but I didn't want to waste my energy and also you looked kinda cute while you were sleeping." She replied smiling herself.
At that point Kay walked in carrying the last of the food which had be cooked for the meal, she placed the dish in the remaining gap on the table and then took her seat.
There was no real further talking around the table while they eat, they had been taught that focusing on the food and chewing it a certain number of times and also due to the fact that the food always tasted so nice.
==After the meal and 3 hour later==
Harrison made sure that he had been the one to put his children to bed, he didn't do as he liked too, but there were many times in which he wasn't around to do so, so he took advantage of every occasion he could
Firstly he had put Lafayette to bed telling him a story about 'The Adventures of Flotter' and after he arrived back down in the living room, it was Tallulah turn to go to bed. Being the fact the Tallulah was nearly 8 years old, she would normally put herself to bed, but she insisted the her dad take her up this time.
When she was laying under the blankets, Harrison sat on the edge of her bed.
"Now... Have you been a good girl for your mother and grandparents?" He asked.
He knew that she wasn't a naughty girl, but like every child she had get moments.
"You know I have been daddy." She said with a cheeky grin.
Harrison smiled back, especially at the way his daughter grinned at him, he could see from the way she was trying to hid something that something had happened.
"Ok, so what happen ended while I was away?" He questioned.
Not sure exactly what had happened, he asked it in such a way which gave the impression that he wanted to know everything.
"After you left I had a tantrum that you had left us here..." Tallulah said looked slightly sheepish "...I wanted to return home, as I was missing Johnny and Serena." She finished.
Harrison wasn't surprised that his daughter had been missing her friends, as just before he left for the last mission, Tallulah had started to show sighs that she was getting home suck and was missing her friends.
I knew that something like that might if happened, but as I wasn't sure what they were heading in too, it was the best decision at the time.
"I know baby and I'm sorry but I wanted to make sure that you, Lafayette and your mom was safe, especially as it turned out to be dangerous. But this time I won't be leaving without you, your bother or mom and of course your new brother or sister, if they are born by then" Harrison told her.
It seemed that the thought that the fact that having a new brother or sister was going to satisfy Tallulah for the moment.
"Hopefully that won't be long then daddy" she replied.
He lent forwards and kissed his daughter on her forehead.
"Time to sleep young lady, dream well and I'll see you tomorrow." He said.
Tallulah tuned over onto her left hand side, as Harrison got off the bed, as he opened the door to exit and to turn off the light, Tallulah voice sounded again.
"Night daddy."
As he pressed the light indicator, he replied.
"Night night baby, sleep well".
He then closed the door and made his way back down stairs to enjoy spending more time with his parents and wife.
==More later==
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Jemima grinned as he sat down next to her and then reached across and took hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze.
"The children have been asked for a few weeks about when we will be returning to the ship, think they miss their friends and their father." She stated.
The thought gave him a lift in his emotions, as he had missed all of them too.
"It's probably more to do with missing their friends than me." Harrison replied with an even more of a grin.
He knew that his kids did miss his, every time he returned to their quarters after bent on duty, they would come running to him and give him a massive hug.
This was why he had been glad that they had remained on earth during the last mission, he couldn't face the fact that there could have been a high chance that as there were heading into completely unknown space and they weren't sure if they would be coming back in one piece and he didn't want to think about ever losing any of his family.
"How did the ships last mission go?" Jemima asked.
He wasn't surprised at the question, especially as he had told her about the change in timelines before he left, but he wasn't sure how he should answer it, as the mission was fubar.
"It was ok, we managed to make sure that the Krynar won't be disturbing the peace that we had built up over the years again. The only thing was we lost the Ticonderoga." Harrison answered.
He didn't want to go into details and he knew that Jemima wouldn't ask for them.
It felt nice sitting here relaxing and doing very little, even though he could relax on the ship there was nothing like being away from all that and not having to worry about being called anywhere at a moments notice.
Harrison must of fallen asleep for a little while as the next thing the he remembers was being awoken by his mother saying that dinner was on the table.
The weather was still wonderful, but looking up at the sky there were indications that it was going to start getting darker soon, as night must be approaching.
Following behind his mother, Harrison entered the house and moved directly into the dinning room to where everyone was sitting down.
Taking the seat next to his wife he spoke.
"Apologies for falling asleep, surprised you didn't punch me to wake me up."
Knowing what he wife would say he grinned at his own cheek.
"Well I did consider doing that, but I didn't want to waste my energy and also you looked kinda cute while you were sleeping." She replied smiling herself.
At that point Kay walked in carrying the last of the food which had be cooked for the meal, she placed the dish in the remaining gap on the table and then took her seat.
There was no real further talking around the table while they eat, they had been taught that focusing on the food and chewing it a certain number of times and also due to the fact that the food always tasted so nice.
==After the meal and 3 hour later==
Harrison made sure that he had been the one to put his children to bed, he didn't do as he liked too, but there were many times in which he wasn't around to do so, so he took advantage of every occasion he could
Firstly he had put Lafayette to bed telling him a story about 'The Adventures of Flotter' and after he arrived back down in the living room, it was Tallulah turn to go to bed. Being the fact the Tallulah was nearly 8 years old, she would normally put herself to bed, but she insisted the her dad take her up this time.
When she was laying under the blankets, Harrison sat on the edge of her bed.
"Now... Have you been a good girl for your mother and grandparents?" He asked.
He knew that she wasn't a naughty girl, but like every child she had get moments.
"You know I have been daddy." She said with a cheeky grin.
Harrison smiled back, especially at the way his daughter grinned at him, he could see from the way she was trying to hid something that something had happened.
"Ok, so what happen ended while I was away?" He questioned.
Not sure exactly what had happened, he asked it in such a way which gave the impression that he wanted to know everything.
"After you left I had a tantrum that you had left us here..." Tallulah said looked slightly sheepish "...I wanted to return home, as I was missing Johnny and Serena." She finished.
Harrison wasn't surprised that his daughter had been missing her friends, as just before he left for the last mission, Tallulah had started to show sighs that she was getting home suck and was missing her friends.
I knew that something like that might if happened, but as I wasn't sure what they were heading in too, it was the best decision at the time.
"I know baby and I'm sorry but I wanted to make sure that you, Lafayette and your mom was safe, especially as it turned out to be dangerous. But this time I won't be leaving without you, your bother or mom and of course your new brother or sister, if they are born by then" Harrison told her.
It seemed that the thought that the fact that having a new brother or sister was going to satisfy Tallulah for the moment.
"Hopefully that won't be long then daddy" she replied.
He lent forwards and kissed his daughter on her forehead.
"Time to sleep young lady, dream well and I'll see you tomorrow." He said.
Tallulah tuned over onto her left hand side, as Harrison got off the bed, as he opened the door to exit and to turn off the light, Tallulah voice sounded again.
"Night daddy."
As he pressed the light indicator, he replied.
"Night night baby, sleep well".
He then closed the door and made his way back down stairs to enjoy spending more time with his parents and wife.
==More later==
#165
Posted Star Date 21406.02 @ 20:28 (08:28 PM)
==Thomas Linacre Hospital-Basingstoke-Hampshire-England, Intensive Care ward==
As he arrived back at the same transport station that he had left hours ago, he felt a heavy strain on his heart, but at the same time he felt a rise in his height, the mixture was a very strange feeling.
The other thing which felt different was that the material of the jeans and shift which now rubbed against his skin as he made the walk back to the hospital was strange, he had gotten use to the feel of the fibers that Starfleet uniforms were made, so anything different would take a while to get use too.
As he traversed the path back to the hospital, he mulled over in his mind everything that had lead him to the here and now and concluded that even when you see your future all mapped out in front of you and it is as clear as a bright sunny day, there will always be something which will make the path turn in another directing and make it look stormy and unpleasant.
Arriving at the hospital he used the lifts to get back to his grandmothers side, when he initially arrived she was asleep, as he looked at her, he hoped that her dreams were peaceful ones which involved her late husband, but he would never ask question which delved into her dreams as they would be her only escape from reality.
Placing his bag in the corner of the room and taking back the chair which was beside her bed and waited for whatever was going to happen.
He must have fallen asleep himself, as the next thing he remembered was his left arm being shaken and a female voice calling his name.
"Peter....Peter"
He opened his eyes to see that it was Jess who was calling his name.
"Morning Jess... How's things going?" He replied with a yawn and a small stretch.
"Morning????, it's midday and I've just finished my shift and we are going to get something to eat and then to sort out some things. So come on." She firmly stated.
Peter wasn't exactly sure what was happening, it sounded self explanatory, but it didn't connect with all the relevant departments in his brain, so he sat there looking at her, he must of had a bewildered look on his face as when she turned and looked at him again and was trying not to smile.
"You can't sit here all day and I know that you've not eaten since earlier, so get you backside out of that chair and come on." Jess stated again.
Peter always hated it when she was right and that was nearly 99% of the time, he should have protested and stood his ground, but he could never say no to her, no matter what it was about.
After getting to his feet and collecting his bag from the corner of the room, he leant over and kissed his gran on the head, "I will be back gran....promise". He then followed behind Jess kinda like a puppy dog following his master.
==Basingstoke Town Centre==
He wasn't sure where he was being taken, so he just followed and eventually they arrived in another district of the town, he hadn't visited this part for many many years, but he did notice that nothing had changed, maybe a few shops had come and gone, but the structure still looked exactly the same.
Jess had slipped her hand into his righthand and almost guided him around corner and down streets until they reached a medium size restaurant, as he approached it he looked up at the name of the place 'Firefly restaurant'.
I've never heard of this place.
As he was pulled inside the smell of the cooked food wafted under his noise and for the first time in hours he stomach rumbled at being empty.
They were seated towards the back of the restaurant, by one of the waiters, he seemed to know Jess, so Peter could only assume that she was kind of a regular in here.
Looking though the menu at what the place had to offer, he noticed that there were many dishes from around the world and even some from other planets, deciding that even though he liked food from other worlds! he would stick with something which he knew wouldn't upset his stomach.
After Jess had order her lasagne and a glass of mixed fruit juice, he ordered the BBQ pulled pork sandwich with chips and onion rings and a large glass of soda.
After the waiter had left with the order, there was a few moments where there was no talking between them two, as Peter wasn't sure where to start.
He watched as Jess moved forwards slightly and took hold of his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"She will be fine, the medication that they will give her will help her and with our help when she gets back to her home, she will be even better." She said.
Peter had lowered his eyes to look at their joined hands, the feeling of her touch was wonderful and he felt his heart grow with love and effect ion again for this woman.
He heard the words that Jess had spoken and it wasn't until the words 'our help' was said that he showed any sort of sign that he had heard her words.
"What do you mean 'our help'" he asked in a quizzical tone after looking up.
He saw Jess smile and knew what she was getting at, it looked like he wouldn't be looking after his gran all on his own.
"Only if your sure, I don't want to stop you from completing your medical studies and having a working life." Peter asked.
This was something which Jess had thought about and had done some sorting out.
"I've managed to arrange that my training continue, just at a slower rate. I explained that I was going to be helping a very close friend look after he is sick and possibly disabled grandmother" she answered.
Peter was surprised that Jess had managed to do all this in such a short space of time, he loved the fact that he would also have someone with him, who knew about caring for someone, as this was a brand new concept for him.
He didn't know what to say to her, so all he did was squeeze her hand to indicate that he was pleased.
At this point the food order arrived and they started eating, during the whole rest of the meal there was little conversation on Peters part, as he was now thinking about the future and what it might hold.
==More to come==
==After resignation of Character==
==Restaurant located in town centre of Basingstoke ==
The food which he had order was lovely, he hadn't eaten properly since he had arrived back in his home town and the start of the current situation that he found himself in.
He wasn't one for talking while eating and especially in an environment which he wasn't sure about, he always wonder who was listening and what information people were picking up about him.
Getting through about three quarters of his plate, he returned his attention back to Jess, she was a slower eater than he was, so had only managed around half of it! but it was nice to see that she was eating.
Peter started to really wonder if this was something that he could get use to, being back on Earth and sitting having a meal with the first girlfriend he really loved.
==More Later==
As he arrived back at the same transport station that he had left hours ago, he felt a heavy strain on his heart, but at the same time he felt a rise in his height, the mixture was a very strange feeling.
The other thing which felt different was that the material of the jeans and shift which now rubbed against his skin as he made the walk back to the hospital was strange, he had gotten use to the feel of the fibers that Starfleet uniforms were made, so anything different would take a while to get use too.
As he traversed the path back to the hospital, he mulled over in his mind everything that had lead him to the here and now and concluded that even when you see your future all mapped out in front of you and it is as clear as a bright sunny day, there will always be something which will make the path turn in another directing and make it look stormy and unpleasant.
Arriving at the hospital he used the lifts to get back to his grandmothers side, when he initially arrived she was asleep, as he looked at her, he hoped that her dreams were peaceful ones which involved her late husband, but he would never ask question which delved into her dreams as they would be her only escape from reality.
Placing his bag in the corner of the room and taking back the chair which was beside her bed and waited for whatever was going to happen.
He must have fallen asleep himself, as the next thing he remembered was his left arm being shaken and a female voice calling his name.
"Peter....Peter"
He opened his eyes to see that it was Jess who was calling his name.
"Morning Jess... How's things going?" He replied with a yawn and a small stretch.
"Morning????, it's midday and I've just finished my shift and we are going to get something to eat and then to sort out some things. So come on." She firmly stated.
Peter wasn't exactly sure what was happening, it sounded self explanatory, but it didn't connect with all the relevant departments in his brain, so he sat there looking at her, he must of had a bewildered look on his face as when she turned and looked at him again and was trying not to smile.
"You can't sit here all day and I know that you've not eaten since earlier, so get you backside out of that chair and come on." Jess stated again.
Peter always hated it when she was right and that was nearly 99% of the time, he should have protested and stood his ground, but he could never say no to her, no matter what it was about.
After getting to his feet and collecting his bag from the corner of the room, he leant over and kissed his gran on the head, "I will be back gran....promise". He then followed behind Jess kinda like a puppy dog following his master.
==Basingstoke Town Centre==
He wasn't sure where he was being taken, so he just followed and eventually they arrived in another district of the town, he hadn't visited this part for many many years, but he did notice that nothing had changed, maybe a few shops had come and gone, but the structure still looked exactly the same.
Jess had slipped her hand into his righthand and almost guided him around corner and down streets until they reached a medium size restaurant, as he approached it he looked up at the name of the place 'Firefly restaurant'.
I've never heard of this place.
As he was pulled inside the smell of the cooked food wafted under his noise and for the first time in hours he stomach rumbled at being empty.
They were seated towards the back of the restaurant, by one of the waiters, he seemed to know Jess, so Peter could only assume that she was kind of a regular in here.
Looking though the menu at what the place had to offer, he noticed that there were many dishes from around the world and even some from other planets, deciding that even though he liked food from other worlds! he would stick with something which he knew wouldn't upset his stomach.
After Jess had order her lasagne and a glass of mixed fruit juice, he ordered the BBQ pulled pork sandwich with chips and onion rings and a large glass of soda.
After the waiter had left with the order, there was a few moments where there was no talking between them two, as Peter wasn't sure where to start.
He watched as Jess moved forwards slightly and took hold of his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"She will be fine, the medication that they will give her will help her and with our help when she gets back to her home, she will be even better." She said.
Peter had lowered his eyes to look at their joined hands, the feeling of her touch was wonderful and he felt his heart grow with love and effect ion again for this woman.
He heard the words that Jess had spoken and it wasn't until the words 'our help' was said that he showed any sort of sign that he had heard her words.
"What do you mean 'our help'" he asked in a quizzical tone after looking up.
He saw Jess smile and knew what she was getting at, it looked like he wouldn't be looking after his gran all on his own.
"Only if your sure, I don't want to stop you from completing your medical studies and having a working life." Peter asked.
This was something which Jess had thought about and had done some sorting out.
"I've managed to arrange that my training continue, just at a slower rate. I explained that I was going to be helping a very close friend look after he is sick and possibly disabled grandmother" she answered.
Peter was surprised that Jess had managed to do all this in such a short space of time, he loved the fact that he would also have someone with him, who knew about caring for someone, as this was a brand new concept for him.
He didn't know what to say to her, so all he did was squeeze her hand to indicate that he was pleased.
At this point the food order arrived and they started eating, during the whole rest of the meal there was little conversation on Peters part, as he was now thinking about the future and what it might hold.
==More to come==
==After resignation of Character==
==Restaurant located in town centre of Basingstoke ==
The food which he had order was lovely, he hadn't eaten properly since he had arrived back in his home town and the start of the current situation that he found himself in.
He wasn't one for talking while eating and especially in an environment which he wasn't sure about, he always wonder who was listening and what information people were picking up about him.
Getting through about three quarters of his plate, he returned his attention back to Jess, she was a slower eater than he was, so had only managed around half of it! but it was nice to see that she was eating.
Peter started to really wonder if this was something that he could get use to, being back on Earth and sitting having a meal with the first girlfriend he really loved.
==More Later==
#166
Posted Star Date 21406.13 @ 14:21 (02:21 PM)
==After returning from Krynar mission==
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Taking the same seat in which he had been sitting in before he put his children to bed, Harrison leaned on and planted a kiss on his wife's cheek.
"It's been a long time since you did anything like that" she stated with a small smile.
Thinking back he had to agree with her, even though he had been on a mission & they had been separated by hundreds of light years, he hadn't done anything spontaneous for a long long time.
"Well I'm going to have to change that." He replied.
With that he gentle laid his hand on her stomach and gentle pressed down, he had done this on numerous occasions and for the past 3 months it had cased a response from their child.
He felt a massive kick or punch from the little one indicating that he or she was still as spritely as always.
As the baby moved he did notice that his wife looked at him and grin, but it was immediately turned into a frown & grimace as the kick seemed to hurt her.
"You ok hunni?" He asked.
He knew that it might be a stupid question, but if he didn't ask it he might be accused of not caring and didn't want to have any bad feelings going around at the moment.
"I am thinking that he is wanting out, as it might be getting a little tight in there."she answered.
As Jemima had said the word 'he', Harrison raised an eyebrow and wondered if she had spoken to one of the medical teams about the gender of the child or had she just put in that word as a slip of the tongue and not noticed it.
I do hope that she didn't find out, as one of the first conversation we have always had when we found out the Jemima was having a child, was that we wouldn't ask about the gender, so that it is a surprise.
==Jemima Boislevesque==
Jemima did notice that way he had looked at her and initially wondered why and then the words which she had spoken ran thought her head.
Ohh sugar, think I let it slip, he isn't going to be happy
"Going from your facial exp<b></b>ressions. I haven't asked about what gender it is". She said putting her hand onto her stomach. "I'm only going on what it feels like and this one feel like it did when I had Lafayette." Jemima finished.
She was hoping hard that he excepted her words, as she didn't want him to think that she had gone back on their agreement not to find out.
==Harrison Boislevesque==
He wasn't too convinced about the answer that was given, but he didn't have any proof that she had found out about the gender and also the last thing he wanted to do right now was start an argument.
Even though he had managed to get some sleep in the garden after arriving, he started to feel tired again.
"I don't know about you, but I'm thinking off heading off to bed." He stated as he got to his feet.
Taking a slow walk over to where the stairs started, he stopped and turned to see if Jemima was following him, which he was pleased to see that in fact she was.
He let her go ahead of him, so that if she had any issues, he would be in a better location to assist in helping her out.
== More Later==
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Taking the same seat in which he had been sitting in before he put his children to bed, Harrison leaned on and planted a kiss on his wife's cheek.
"It's been a long time since you did anything like that" she stated with a small smile.
Thinking back he had to agree with her, even though he had been on a mission & they had been separated by hundreds of light years, he hadn't done anything spontaneous for a long long time.
"Well I'm going to have to change that." He replied.
With that he gentle laid his hand on her stomach and gentle pressed down, he had done this on numerous occasions and for the past 3 months it had cased a response from their child.
He felt a massive kick or punch from the little one indicating that he or she was still as spritely as always.
As the baby moved he did notice that his wife looked at him and grin, but it was immediately turned into a frown & grimace as the kick seemed to hurt her.
"You ok hunni?" He asked.
He knew that it might be a stupid question, but if he didn't ask it he might be accused of not caring and didn't want to have any bad feelings going around at the moment.
"I am thinking that he is wanting out, as it might be getting a little tight in there."she answered.
As Jemima had said the word 'he', Harrison raised an eyebrow and wondered if she had spoken to one of the medical teams about the gender of the child or had she just put in that word as a slip of the tongue and not noticed it.
I do hope that she didn't find out, as one of the first conversation we have always had when we found out the Jemima was having a child, was that we wouldn't ask about the gender, so that it is a surprise.
==Jemima Boislevesque==
Jemima did notice that way he had looked at her and initially wondered why and then the words which she had spoken ran thought her head.
Ohh sugar, think I let it slip, he isn't going to be happy
"Going from your facial exp<b></b>ressions. I haven't asked about what gender it is". She said putting her hand onto her stomach. "I'm only going on what it feels like and this one feel like it did when I had Lafayette." Jemima finished.
She was hoping hard that he excepted her words, as she didn't want him to think that she had gone back on their agreement not to find out.
==Harrison Boislevesque==
He wasn't too convinced about the answer that was given, but he didn't have any proof that she had found out about the gender and also the last thing he wanted to do right now was start an argument.
Even though he had managed to get some sleep in the garden after arriving, he started to feel tired again.
"I don't know about you, but I'm thinking off heading off to bed." He stated as he got to his feet.
Taking a slow walk over to where the stairs started, he stopped and turned to see if Jemima was following him, which he was pleased to see that in fact she was.
He let her go ahead of him, so that if she had any issues, he would be in a better location to assist in helping her out.
== More Later==
#167
Posted Star Date 21406.15 @ 19:46 (07:46 PM)
==1 days before recall was sounded from the USS Copernicus==
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Harrison was sound asleep having a wonderful dream about what his future would be like having three children around.
The image he was dreaming was that they had gotten a wonderful wooden house with a massive garden and all five of them were out in the garden on a wonderful clear sunny day having a picnic and the kids were playing and enjoying themselves.
He had just reached forwards to pick up a piece of a chicken leg, when he heard a scream of pain, looking around he didn't see anything, then the scream sounded again.
Awakening from his dream, Harrison noticed that the screams were actually real and was coming from his wife, Jemima.
Harrison was going to ask what was wrong, but then realised that this wouldn't exactly be the most logical thing to ask, as it could not be me thing.....she had started going into labour.
It also seemed that the sound of her scream had echoed through the house as a few seconds later the door was pushed open and in ran his mother.
"I had a feeling that it might start tonight." Kay said in a knowing tone.
It seemed that apart from having a bag ready for this eventuality his mother had also prepared things just incase there was no time to have Jemima moved to the local medical centre.
It also seemed that Jemima had also been thinking the same thing which Harrison was thinking.
"Get me to Brooks, no-one else but Doc Brooks." Jemima said in a harsh tone.
There was no way that he was going to argue with her, especially now.
He reached over and grabbed his combadge which he had placed on the bedside table before he gotten undress and tapped it.
"Lieutenant Commander Boislevesque to USS Copernicus...." He waited for a reply before continuing. "I need Doc Brooks to beam down to my location.....tell him that Jemima Boislevesque has gone into labour and is insisting that he be the only one to deliver the baby."
After the confirmation that the message would be passed on he started helping to get things ready for when the Doc got there.
==More to come when Doctor arrives==
==330 S Monroe St, Versailles, Indiana, USA==
Harrison was sound asleep having a wonderful dream about what his future would be like having three children around.
The image he was dreaming was that they had gotten a wonderful wooden house with a massive garden and all five of them were out in the garden on a wonderful clear sunny day having a picnic and the kids were playing and enjoying themselves.
He had just reached forwards to pick up a piece of a chicken leg, when he heard a scream of pain, looking around he didn't see anything, then the scream sounded again.
Awakening from his dream, Harrison noticed that the screams were actually real and was coming from his wife, Jemima.
Harrison was going to ask what was wrong, but then realised that this wouldn't exactly be the most logical thing to ask, as it could not be me thing.....she had started going into labour.
It also seemed that the sound of her scream had echoed through the house as a few seconds later the door was pushed open and in ran his mother.
"I had a feeling that it might start tonight." Kay said in a knowing tone.
It seemed that apart from having a bag ready for this eventuality his mother had also prepared things just incase there was no time to have Jemima moved to the local medical centre.
It also seemed that Jemima had also been thinking the same thing which Harrison was thinking.
"Get me to Brooks, no-one else but Doc Brooks." Jemima said in a harsh tone.
There was no way that he was going to argue with her, especially now.
He reached over and grabbed his combadge which he had placed on the bedside table before he gotten undress and tapped it.
"Lieutenant Commander Boislevesque to USS Copernicus...." He waited for a reply before continuing. "I need Doc Brooks to beam down to my location.....tell him that Jemima Boislevesque has gone into labour and is insisting that he be the only one to deliver the baby."
After the confirmation that the message would be passed on he started helping to get things ready for when the Doc got there.
==More to come when Doctor arrives==
#168
Guest_Cristina Fiore {Wozcienski}_*
Guest_Cristina Fiore {Wozcienski}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21407.03 @ 12:58 (12:58 PM)
== Baykon Orbital, Earth. First race of the season. If you’re wondering what the ships look like, play some wipEout and then you’ll know! ==
As she leant by the side of the scarlet ship, resplendent in her Scuderia Rosso flight suit, Crissy drained the last of the iced coffee in her hand and then reached for her helmet.
This was it. Her first true race in Formula 1, and her chance to show everyone that the practices and qualifying performances were no fluke. 50 laps on the space track set up around Baykon Orbital, then a re-entry to Earth’s atmosphere followed by 10 laps around the tight streets of Monaco. It was a legendary race and a fitting opening to the calendar.
The pilot climbed aboard her ship, pulled her helmet on and fired up the engines. She was ready for this. Her blood thundered in her ears as she smiled horribly in the cockpit and then activated the team commlink.
“All green in here. Ready to go” she said.
[All green at control. Cleared to move off.]
Gently the racing craft lifted off the deck plate and nosed out of the pit bay into space.
The track was marked out with golden energy fields, the harmonics enough to keep ships in without interfering with broadcasts. There was enough room for ships to fly 3 abreast most of the way around the circuit, and like the best of the planetside tracks that narrowed and widened at certain points. The pit lane was most of the way round the track, so there was a short stint round a couple of long sweeping bends to get to the start line.
It was with some pride that Crissy brought the Scuderia Rosso ship to a stop on pole position. Her teammate, the surly Finnish pilot Toiva Konnen, was next to her in second. He had been 3 tenths of a second behind her in qualifying and wasn’t happy about conceding ground to the newcomer already.
The two had barely spoken – Konnen had no interest in making friends and the only communication between the pilots had been about the modifications made to the ship. Crissy’s knowledge of what kept the elegant vessels in the sky rivalled that of her engineers and she had brought her knowledge gleaned from fighters and illicit street racing to the team. The results had been undeniable, the Scuderia going from also-rans to locking out the front row with vastly improved maneuverability and more efficient engines.
Gradually the grid filled out behind Crissy’s ship, the number 4 prominently displayed on the nose in amongst the sponsor decals. Finally there was a voice in her ear indicating it was time for the formation lap, and with a huge grin she pulled away.
As she flew round the track, her pace just enough to give the ship a workout but not so fast to unduly test any of the other pilots, her mind was already on the start. The getaway when the lights turned green – a homage to the very origins of racing – had been the only problem she’d found so far. It was just something she had never had to worry about. Fighters launched from ships either by catapult or by simply taking off. In the illegal races she’d taken part in, she had programmed the ship to deploy the power and had never had to worry.
Here, teams weren’t allowed to use external aids at the start of the race. Pilots had to use their own skills to judge when to go on the power and how much they could deploy to stay in a straight line. It wasn’t as simple as ‘foot to the floor’ because of how the power was delivered. Go for max thrust from the off and the odds were good something would blow.
Crissy slowed as she hit the start-finish straight, and then brought the ship to a stop in the grid box.
There was chatter on the comm from the pit but she wasn’t listening. Her hand loosened and then tightened on the control stick as she watched the rest of the ships form up behind her. Chocolate brown eyes then moved to the huge row of lights. 5 columns of glaring red LEDs stared back at her, before they started to wink out one by one.
Crissy’s foot hovered over the pedal as the penultimate light went out, and then they all went green.
The ship bucked as the pilot brought the power to bear as sharply as she dared and took it off the line. Almost inevitably her teammate pulled ahead, and she swore viciously as three other ships passed her from left, right and below. She banked sharply at the first turn which carried the racers up and right, reclaiming one of her lost places almost immediately with a smooth pass over the top of a blue and white ship that couldn’t stop her slotting in in front on the next turn.
The next ten laps went by in a blur. The pit crew were constantly in Crissy’s ear, reminding her to take it easy on the opening few laps as the race settled down. She was all over the exhaust ports of the white Tzauba ship in front of her and it was only the constant chiding from her team that had kept her in check.
Eventually though, that just wasn’t going to cut it any more.
**** it, I’m coming through. I’ve really had enough of this guy.
For a lap she gradually dropped back a little, giving a couple of tenths of a second to give the false illusion that she was content to hold on to 4th place. Coming into a long straight halfway round the lap, Crissy suddenly dropped below the other ship and gave it everything. The scarlet vessel gained steadily and when the white ship slowed to turn through the hairpin right, Crissy didn’t slow at all.
Pulling a maneouvre straight out of her Starfleet book of tricks, Crissy yanked the control stick up and fired retros across the rear of the top deck of her ship, kicking the tail down. The ship skated the surface of the fields that marked out the track, passing scant millimetres from the golden haze of energy below and the cockpit of the rival ship that was now above, before powering down the straight again.
The Scuderia ship had passed the Tzauba halfway round the corner and such was the speed advantage gained, Crissy was a second clear by the next lap.
[OK, what was that about?]
The voice in her ear was her chief engineer Halford.
“I saw a chance, I took it” Crissy replied tersely. “They won’t have seen that one coming.”
[They didn’t. Neither did we. We thought you’d just wrecked the ship.] There was a pause. [I’m supposed to tell you never to do that again. But the fans are in raptures and the Tzauba guys are trying to work out on what grounds to complain. You do what you do.]
The crackle on the channel signaled the end of communication, and Crissy’s mouth creased into a wicked smile.
So that’s unofficial authority to do what I need to to get past people. I can live with this…
Now running in 3rd, Crissy was able to work on closing the gap. Her teammate Konnen was next after he lost the lead a couple of laps ago. But the gap between the two Scuderia vessels was already a mighty 25 seconds, and even with nothing in front of her it was going to take Crissy a lot of laps to catch him.
The clear track helped her take over a second and a half from the leaders per lap. From the reports from her team and the readouts in front of her, the two up front were well aware she was coming and had doubled their efforts as a result, but it wasn’t helping them.
On lap 34 Crissy encountered the first set of back-markers. They weren’t prepared for the scarlet blur that sped past. Ships were supposed to maintain a certain direction as ‘up’ on the space races so that the sponsor logos were visible for as long as possible. On straights Crissy did what she was supposed to but when taking corners and negotiating traffic, she didn’t pay it a blind bit of notice. She went past the first ship side on, her canopy at 90 degrees to the bottle green vessel, before looping underneath the next one face-down and finally blasting past over the third vessel so close to the boundary fields that she thought she heard the humming from the shield generators.
[Fuel cell degradation at 92%, 3 more laps before you have to come in.] The communication from the pits broke the silence in the cockpit. [We’re loving the show you’re putting on. Keep going. This is already a heck of a debut.]
The grin behind Crissy’s visor widened.
“Acknowledged. 3 laps” she replied.
The fuel cells used in the racing machines were only able to last so long, ensuring they needed changing during the race. That ensured the pit strategies were still part of the sport so many years on.
The pit stop when it came highlighted another of the changes Crissy had made to Scuderia Rosso, although her teammate had refused to adopt the same method despite enormous pressure. Instead of having to send out mechanics in suits on gantries to change the cells, she swooped into the pitlane and held station at 90 degrees right outside the bay doors, green indicators on the cockpit displays confirming perfect placement. Her positioning allowed the team to remotely unlock the old cell, pull it clear and onto a rack with a magnetic arm, slam the rack directly upwards to reveal a new cell and then push that new cell straight into place before locking it remotely again. The entire process took less than 2.5 seconds and then the ship was gone again. It was faster and dramatically safer, as no-one was exposed to space.
Reloaded and having reeled in another few precious seconds on the pit stop, Crissy caught up with her teammate on the next lap even though he was trying to catch the leader. The two scarlet Scuderia vessels were nose to tail, Crissy clearly faster but her teammate using his extensive racecraft to make his ship as wide as possible.
After a lap and a half of being blocked off Crissy was on the comm.
“Get this ****** out of my way. He’s slowing me up” she demanded to the pit, unable to open a direct channel to another ship by rule.
There was a second’s silence.
[Negative. We cannot give Konnen team orders.]
“Which stupid **** said that?” Crissy fired back angrily.
[Management.] The voice sounded resigned, giving the word the same connotations normally used for ‘scum’.
“Fine. My way it is” the pilot snapped.
Crissy dropped back, getting ready for another acrobatic overhead pass into the turn 8 hairpin. She flew low and bolted forward, but when Konnen slowed he moved up to deny her the space to come over the top. The cockpit filled with expletives – Crissy hadn’t been expecting him to have paid attention during her practice runs.
A smile crossed her lips as she realised he had left her space for something else. Using lateral thrusters she flipped her ship 180 degrees in an Immelman turn, her engines screaming as she went for it in the other direction. She had a headstart on Konnen – he’d gone round the corner and she hadn’t - but he was already moving, and the two ships ended up speeding down the next straight with one over the other.
Almost inevitably it was Konnen who blinked first, slowing earlier to take the next bends and having to let his teammate past. Crissy took the place, nimbly flipped her ship through the tight S curves and then powered away.
That was the last Crissy saw of Konnen as she took off in pursuit of the leader. The tussle between the two Scuderias had allowed that lead to grow, and the other ship, a ghostly black Valassis, was actually faster than the scarlet vessel now on its tail. The only edge Crissy felt that she had was pilot skill, particularly out here in space. Other pilots still seemed to think in ‘traditional’ terms and race as though gravity was compelling them to return to a particular axis. The former fighter pilot was not so limited and she took the corners at whatever angle suited her best, using Immelman-style turns for the tight bends and skating on the boundary fields in a big loop to take the sweepers.
Crissy’s focus was total as she reeled in the Valassis ship. It was a matter of a tenth here and a tenth there but she was eating into his lead.
[Re-entry end of this lap. Re-entry end of this lap.]
The sudden noise made the pilot jump, but she shook her head to clear it as another backmarker was passed with contemptuous ease.
“Noted. Status of the heat shields?” she replied.
[All systems test as normal. Release mechanisms indicate green.]
“Thanks.”
A mid-race re-entry was one of the great spectacles of Formula One, ships glowing from the heat of passing through a planet’s atmosphere as they came down like a stream of shooting stars. This was where Crissy had spent the most time, working with the team’s engineers to create a layer of heatproof tiles that would improve re-entry times and could be jettisoned to avoid any impact on lap-times when aerodynamics mattered again. Regulations stated that ships were not allowed to deliberately change shape or use shields, and there was a limit on how much weight a ship could lose due to burning up, so those had been the key challenges, but the lightweight ceramics and carefully located remote anchor points had solved the issues so far in testing.
This was also an area where pilot skill came into it. Formula 1 pilots just about had the same level of re-entry practice as a recently graduated Starfleet Tactical officer – there were four races on the 20-race calendar that featured re-entry so it wasn’t something that was practiced that much. It just wasn’t practical to do so. Consequently they were nowhere near the level of an elite former Special Forces pilot. Even before tweaking the whole process, Crissy was seconds faster on re-entry practices than anyone else in Formula 1 had ever been, and she had done her best to make sure that re-entry races were guaranteed wins for Scuderia Rosso.
As she passed the start line at the end of lap 50, the boundary fields moved and guided her towards Earth. The designated flight path was laid out on a screen in her cockpit, and in the distance she could see the black Valassis ship silhouetted against the blue globe of her home planet as it slowed.
The Scuderia ship also had to slow down, but not to the same extent. The angle Crissy could take was also different, pointing her ship like a dart aimed at the ancient city of Monaco rather than needing to keep as wide a footprint as possible.
She overtook the Valassis in the upper atmosphere, both ships glowing in the re-entry heat. When the Scuderia reached ground level, flying ten feet or so over the Mediterranean Sea, Crissy hit the releases and dumped the ceramic second skin before joining the historic street circuit at the harbor. Such was the time advantage held by the scarlet ships on re-entry that the Valassis was passed by Konnen in the other Scuderia Rosso as well.
A huge smile had settled on Crissy’s lips as she flung her ship around the Monaco course. The Tifosi, the Scuderia diehard fans, were out in force and they were in raptures. Fiore was nearly 2 minutes ahead of her teammate Konnen, who in turn held a 35 second advantage over the Valassis in 3rd. Barring a catastrophe this was going to be the best start to a season in many years, and the fans knew it just as much as Crissy did.
For the first few laps around Monaco Crissy went for the lap record, and it fell on the fourth attempt. Her lead actually increased, and it all meant she could afford to put on a show the rest of the way. She went through the tunnel upside down, barrel-rolled on the start-finish straight and on the final lap slid the canopy open on the sleek ship so she could hear the roar from the grandstands as she passed the chequered flag to take her first win in her first race.
The buzz was incredible. Crissy had never felt as alive as she did when she took the ship around on the parade lap and brought it in to land in the pits. She couldn’t unbuckle the harness fast enough, leaping onto the fuselage and ripping off her helmet to yell in triumph. She got the crowd as revved up as she could, gesturing her thanks before she took a flying leap into the middle of her waiting pit crew. They hugged her, kissed her cheeks and tousled her hair, just as swept up in the moment as she was. All the hard work had paid off in grand style.
A few minutes later and the raven-haired pilot was leading the way out onto the podium. She took her place on the top step, graciously accepted an enormous crystal glass trophy and a bottle of ludicrously expensive champagne, and stood with an expression of amazement as the Star Spangled Banner rang out for the Chicagoan racer followed by Forza Italia for her team.
Carefully Crissy laid the trophy down on the podium so she could applaud her team, as the exuberant principal Lorenzo di Natale took the constructor’s trophy with a massive grin of his own.
With the formalities concluded, the pilots were free to crack open the champagne. Crissy hosed down di Natale only to have him and Konnen join forces and drench her.
The rest of the track time went by in a blur after Crissy drank what was left of the champagne. She gave the required interviews at the press conferences, all smiles, bad jokes and worse language as she caused broadcasters everywhere to have to put the video feeds on delay so they could bleep out her swearing. More champagne was produced when she got back to the pit garage, and as the sun went down and the bottles were empty she insisted on taking everyone nearby for drinks around Monaco.
There would be tales doing the rounds for years about the resultant celebration as Crissy blew her entire win bonus and then some in the bars, clubs and restaurants. Mechanics were left asleep under tables, di Natale passed out on the roulette table of a very exclusive casino, and Crissy lost a bet and wound up stripping off and diving into a massive fountain outside City Hall, having to be carried back to a hotel stark naked and soaking wet.
None of it mattered though. When the hangovers faded Scuderia Rosso had the win, and they had a new star in their former Starfleet pilot.
As she leant by the side of the scarlet ship, resplendent in her Scuderia Rosso flight suit, Crissy drained the last of the iced coffee in her hand and then reached for her helmet.
This was it. Her first true race in Formula 1, and her chance to show everyone that the practices and qualifying performances were no fluke. 50 laps on the space track set up around Baykon Orbital, then a re-entry to Earth’s atmosphere followed by 10 laps around the tight streets of Monaco. It was a legendary race and a fitting opening to the calendar.
The pilot climbed aboard her ship, pulled her helmet on and fired up the engines. She was ready for this. Her blood thundered in her ears as she smiled horribly in the cockpit and then activated the team commlink.
“All green in here. Ready to go” she said.
[All green at control. Cleared to move off.]
Gently the racing craft lifted off the deck plate and nosed out of the pit bay into space.
The track was marked out with golden energy fields, the harmonics enough to keep ships in without interfering with broadcasts. There was enough room for ships to fly 3 abreast most of the way around the circuit, and like the best of the planetside tracks that narrowed and widened at certain points. The pit lane was most of the way round the track, so there was a short stint round a couple of long sweeping bends to get to the start line.
It was with some pride that Crissy brought the Scuderia Rosso ship to a stop on pole position. Her teammate, the surly Finnish pilot Toiva Konnen, was next to her in second. He had been 3 tenths of a second behind her in qualifying and wasn’t happy about conceding ground to the newcomer already.
The two had barely spoken – Konnen had no interest in making friends and the only communication between the pilots had been about the modifications made to the ship. Crissy’s knowledge of what kept the elegant vessels in the sky rivalled that of her engineers and she had brought her knowledge gleaned from fighters and illicit street racing to the team. The results had been undeniable, the Scuderia going from also-rans to locking out the front row with vastly improved maneuverability and more efficient engines.
Gradually the grid filled out behind Crissy’s ship, the number 4 prominently displayed on the nose in amongst the sponsor decals. Finally there was a voice in her ear indicating it was time for the formation lap, and with a huge grin she pulled away.
As she flew round the track, her pace just enough to give the ship a workout but not so fast to unduly test any of the other pilots, her mind was already on the start. The getaway when the lights turned green – a homage to the very origins of racing – had been the only problem she’d found so far. It was just something she had never had to worry about. Fighters launched from ships either by catapult or by simply taking off. In the illegal races she’d taken part in, she had programmed the ship to deploy the power and had never had to worry.
Here, teams weren’t allowed to use external aids at the start of the race. Pilots had to use their own skills to judge when to go on the power and how much they could deploy to stay in a straight line. It wasn’t as simple as ‘foot to the floor’ because of how the power was delivered. Go for max thrust from the off and the odds were good something would blow.
Crissy slowed as she hit the start-finish straight, and then brought the ship to a stop in the grid box.
There was chatter on the comm from the pit but she wasn’t listening. Her hand loosened and then tightened on the control stick as she watched the rest of the ships form up behind her. Chocolate brown eyes then moved to the huge row of lights. 5 columns of glaring red LEDs stared back at her, before they started to wink out one by one.
Crissy’s foot hovered over the pedal as the penultimate light went out, and then they all went green.
The ship bucked as the pilot brought the power to bear as sharply as she dared and took it off the line. Almost inevitably her teammate pulled ahead, and she swore viciously as three other ships passed her from left, right and below. She banked sharply at the first turn which carried the racers up and right, reclaiming one of her lost places almost immediately with a smooth pass over the top of a blue and white ship that couldn’t stop her slotting in in front on the next turn.
The next ten laps went by in a blur. The pit crew were constantly in Crissy’s ear, reminding her to take it easy on the opening few laps as the race settled down. She was all over the exhaust ports of the white Tzauba ship in front of her and it was only the constant chiding from her team that had kept her in check.
Eventually though, that just wasn’t going to cut it any more.
**** it, I’m coming through. I’ve really had enough of this guy.
For a lap she gradually dropped back a little, giving a couple of tenths of a second to give the false illusion that she was content to hold on to 4th place. Coming into a long straight halfway round the lap, Crissy suddenly dropped below the other ship and gave it everything. The scarlet vessel gained steadily and when the white ship slowed to turn through the hairpin right, Crissy didn’t slow at all.
Pulling a maneouvre straight out of her Starfleet book of tricks, Crissy yanked the control stick up and fired retros across the rear of the top deck of her ship, kicking the tail down. The ship skated the surface of the fields that marked out the track, passing scant millimetres from the golden haze of energy below and the cockpit of the rival ship that was now above, before powering down the straight again.
The Scuderia ship had passed the Tzauba halfway round the corner and such was the speed advantage gained, Crissy was a second clear by the next lap.
[OK, what was that about?]
The voice in her ear was her chief engineer Halford.
“I saw a chance, I took it” Crissy replied tersely. “They won’t have seen that one coming.”
[They didn’t. Neither did we. We thought you’d just wrecked the ship.] There was a pause. [I’m supposed to tell you never to do that again. But the fans are in raptures and the Tzauba guys are trying to work out on what grounds to complain. You do what you do.]
The crackle on the channel signaled the end of communication, and Crissy’s mouth creased into a wicked smile.
So that’s unofficial authority to do what I need to to get past people. I can live with this…
Now running in 3rd, Crissy was able to work on closing the gap. Her teammate Konnen was next after he lost the lead a couple of laps ago. But the gap between the two Scuderia vessels was already a mighty 25 seconds, and even with nothing in front of her it was going to take Crissy a lot of laps to catch him.
The clear track helped her take over a second and a half from the leaders per lap. From the reports from her team and the readouts in front of her, the two up front were well aware she was coming and had doubled their efforts as a result, but it wasn’t helping them.
On lap 34 Crissy encountered the first set of back-markers. They weren’t prepared for the scarlet blur that sped past. Ships were supposed to maintain a certain direction as ‘up’ on the space races so that the sponsor logos were visible for as long as possible. On straights Crissy did what she was supposed to but when taking corners and negotiating traffic, she didn’t pay it a blind bit of notice. She went past the first ship side on, her canopy at 90 degrees to the bottle green vessel, before looping underneath the next one face-down and finally blasting past over the third vessel so close to the boundary fields that she thought she heard the humming from the shield generators.
[Fuel cell degradation at 92%, 3 more laps before you have to come in.] The communication from the pits broke the silence in the cockpit. [We’re loving the show you’re putting on. Keep going. This is already a heck of a debut.]
The grin behind Crissy’s visor widened.
“Acknowledged. 3 laps” she replied.
The fuel cells used in the racing machines were only able to last so long, ensuring they needed changing during the race. That ensured the pit strategies were still part of the sport so many years on.
The pit stop when it came highlighted another of the changes Crissy had made to Scuderia Rosso, although her teammate had refused to adopt the same method despite enormous pressure. Instead of having to send out mechanics in suits on gantries to change the cells, she swooped into the pitlane and held station at 90 degrees right outside the bay doors, green indicators on the cockpit displays confirming perfect placement. Her positioning allowed the team to remotely unlock the old cell, pull it clear and onto a rack with a magnetic arm, slam the rack directly upwards to reveal a new cell and then push that new cell straight into place before locking it remotely again. The entire process took less than 2.5 seconds and then the ship was gone again. It was faster and dramatically safer, as no-one was exposed to space.
Reloaded and having reeled in another few precious seconds on the pit stop, Crissy caught up with her teammate on the next lap even though he was trying to catch the leader. The two scarlet Scuderia vessels were nose to tail, Crissy clearly faster but her teammate using his extensive racecraft to make his ship as wide as possible.
After a lap and a half of being blocked off Crissy was on the comm.
“Get this ****** out of my way. He’s slowing me up” she demanded to the pit, unable to open a direct channel to another ship by rule.
There was a second’s silence.
[Negative. We cannot give Konnen team orders.]
“Which stupid **** said that?” Crissy fired back angrily.
[Management.] The voice sounded resigned, giving the word the same connotations normally used for ‘scum’.
“Fine. My way it is” the pilot snapped.
Crissy dropped back, getting ready for another acrobatic overhead pass into the turn 8 hairpin. She flew low and bolted forward, but when Konnen slowed he moved up to deny her the space to come over the top. The cockpit filled with expletives – Crissy hadn’t been expecting him to have paid attention during her practice runs.
A smile crossed her lips as she realised he had left her space for something else. Using lateral thrusters she flipped her ship 180 degrees in an Immelman turn, her engines screaming as she went for it in the other direction. She had a headstart on Konnen – he’d gone round the corner and she hadn’t - but he was already moving, and the two ships ended up speeding down the next straight with one over the other.
Almost inevitably it was Konnen who blinked first, slowing earlier to take the next bends and having to let his teammate past. Crissy took the place, nimbly flipped her ship through the tight S curves and then powered away.
That was the last Crissy saw of Konnen as she took off in pursuit of the leader. The tussle between the two Scuderias had allowed that lead to grow, and the other ship, a ghostly black Valassis, was actually faster than the scarlet vessel now on its tail. The only edge Crissy felt that she had was pilot skill, particularly out here in space. Other pilots still seemed to think in ‘traditional’ terms and race as though gravity was compelling them to return to a particular axis. The former fighter pilot was not so limited and she took the corners at whatever angle suited her best, using Immelman-style turns for the tight bends and skating on the boundary fields in a big loop to take the sweepers.
Crissy’s focus was total as she reeled in the Valassis ship. It was a matter of a tenth here and a tenth there but she was eating into his lead.
[Re-entry end of this lap. Re-entry end of this lap.]
The sudden noise made the pilot jump, but she shook her head to clear it as another backmarker was passed with contemptuous ease.
“Noted. Status of the heat shields?” she replied.
[All systems test as normal. Release mechanisms indicate green.]
“Thanks.”
A mid-race re-entry was one of the great spectacles of Formula One, ships glowing from the heat of passing through a planet’s atmosphere as they came down like a stream of shooting stars. This was where Crissy had spent the most time, working with the team’s engineers to create a layer of heatproof tiles that would improve re-entry times and could be jettisoned to avoid any impact on lap-times when aerodynamics mattered again. Regulations stated that ships were not allowed to deliberately change shape or use shields, and there was a limit on how much weight a ship could lose due to burning up, so those had been the key challenges, but the lightweight ceramics and carefully located remote anchor points had solved the issues so far in testing.
This was also an area where pilot skill came into it. Formula 1 pilots just about had the same level of re-entry practice as a recently graduated Starfleet Tactical officer – there were four races on the 20-race calendar that featured re-entry so it wasn’t something that was practiced that much. It just wasn’t practical to do so. Consequently they were nowhere near the level of an elite former Special Forces pilot. Even before tweaking the whole process, Crissy was seconds faster on re-entry practices than anyone else in Formula 1 had ever been, and she had done her best to make sure that re-entry races were guaranteed wins for Scuderia Rosso.
As she passed the start line at the end of lap 50, the boundary fields moved and guided her towards Earth. The designated flight path was laid out on a screen in her cockpit, and in the distance she could see the black Valassis ship silhouetted against the blue globe of her home planet as it slowed.
The Scuderia ship also had to slow down, but not to the same extent. The angle Crissy could take was also different, pointing her ship like a dart aimed at the ancient city of Monaco rather than needing to keep as wide a footprint as possible.
She overtook the Valassis in the upper atmosphere, both ships glowing in the re-entry heat. When the Scuderia reached ground level, flying ten feet or so over the Mediterranean Sea, Crissy hit the releases and dumped the ceramic second skin before joining the historic street circuit at the harbor. Such was the time advantage held by the scarlet ships on re-entry that the Valassis was passed by Konnen in the other Scuderia Rosso as well.
A huge smile had settled on Crissy’s lips as she flung her ship around the Monaco course. The Tifosi, the Scuderia diehard fans, were out in force and they were in raptures. Fiore was nearly 2 minutes ahead of her teammate Konnen, who in turn held a 35 second advantage over the Valassis in 3rd. Barring a catastrophe this was going to be the best start to a season in many years, and the fans knew it just as much as Crissy did.
For the first few laps around Monaco Crissy went for the lap record, and it fell on the fourth attempt. Her lead actually increased, and it all meant she could afford to put on a show the rest of the way. She went through the tunnel upside down, barrel-rolled on the start-finish straight and on the final lap slid the canopy open on the sleek ship so she could hear the roar from the grandstands as she passed the chequered flag to take her first win in her first race.
The buzz was incredible. Crissy had never felt as alive as she did when she took the ship around on the parade lap and brought it in to land in the pits. She couldn’t unbuckle the harness fast enough, leaping onto the fuselage and ripping off her helmet to yell in triumph. She got the crowd as revved up as she could, gesturing her thanks before she took a flying leap into the middle of her waiting pit crew. They hugged her, kissed her cheeks and tousled her hair, just as swept up in the moment as she was. All the hard work had paid off in grand style.
A few minutes later and the raven-haired pilot was leading the way out onto the podium. She took her place on the top step, graciously accepted an enormous crystal glass trophy and a bottle of ludicrously expensive champagne, and stood with an expression of amazement as the Star Spangled Banner rang out for the Chicagoan racer followed by Forza Italia for her team.
Carefully Crissy laid the trophy down on the podium so she could applaud her team, as the exuberant principal Lorenzo di Natale took the constructor’s trophy with a massive grin of his own.
With the formalities concluded, the pilots were free to crack open the champagne. Crissy hosed down di Natale only to have him and Konnen join forces and drench her.
The rest of the track time went by in a blur after Crissy drank what was left of the champagne. She gave the required interviews at the press conferences, all smiles, bad jokes and worse language as she caused broadcasters everywhere to have to put the video feeds on delay so they could bleep out her swearing. More champagne was produced when she got back to the pit garage, and as the sun went down and the bottles were empty she insisted on taking everyone nearby for drinks around Monaco.
There would be tales doing the rounds for years about the resultant celebration as Crissy blew her entire win bonus and then some in the bars, clubs and restaurants. Mechanics were left asleep under tables, di Natale passed out on the roulette table of a very exclusive casino, and Crissy lost a bet and wound up stripping off and diving into a massive fountain outside City Hall, having to be carried back to a hotel stark naked and soaking wet.
None of it mattered though. When the hangovers faded Scuderia Rosso had the win, and they had a new star in their former Starfleet pilot.
#169
Posted Star Date 21407.15 @ 01:04 (01:04 AM)
== San Francisco near Star Fleet Academy - unspecified timeline ==
Laura smiled at the older woman’s awkwardness, she’d seen the operative play a part with ease, but apparently being herself – at least when making small talk – didn’t come as naturally to her.
Probably because she usually takes what she wants to know directly from people’s minds, but she knows she cannot do that with me.
“I’ve moved around a few times.” The doctor shrugged, “I’m working for Star Fleet medical right now…. it was the right choice but I miss being on a Starship already.”
Grex looked at the doctor as if she were sizing her up, “Not enough excitement for you?”
Macleod laughed, “Something like that, though I was thinking more of the sense of companionship.”
The ex-security officer rolled her eyes but Laura sensed that she had come to understand those feelings since they’d last met. At last she reached into a pocket and pulled out a small data chip, “In case you need to contact me.” Standing, Trella continued, “I know where to find you.”
She had to make it sound like a threat didn’t she? Laura shook her head as she watched the other woman walk away without another word, and quietly put the slip away. Still you never know…
== End timeline ==
Laura smiled at the older woman’s awkwardness, she’d seen the operative play a part with ease, but apparently being herself – at least when making small talk – didn’t come as naturally to her.
Probably because she usually takes what she wants to know directly from people’s minds, but she knows she cannot do that with me.
“I’ve moved around a few times.” The doctor shrugged, “I’m working for Star Fleet medical right now…. it was the right choice but I miss being on a Starship already.”
Grex looked at the doctor as if she were sizing her up, “Not enough excitement for you?”
Macleod laughed, “Something like that, though I was thinking more of the sense of companionship.”
The ex-security officer rolled her eyes but Laura sensed that she had come to understand those feelings since they’d last met. At last she reached into a pocket and pulled out a small data chip, “In case you need to contact me.” Standing, Trella continued, “I know where to find you.”
She had to make it sound like a threat didn’t she? Laura shook her head as she watched the other woman walk away without another word, and quietly put the slip away. Still you never know…
== End timeline ==
#170
Guest_LCdr Edan Balfour_*
Guest_LCdr Edan Balfour_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21407.18 @ 17:32 (05:32 PM)
== Tobermory, Isle of Mull, Scotland ==
"You've got twenty years in already, why can't you just retire and move back here. Acair could certainly use the help. He's not getting any younger you know," Grizel Balfour said in a thick Scottish accent.
AH, finally here comes the guilt trip.
"Mither, we've been over this already. I can't just up and retire. Star Fleet needs all the doctors they can get right now. The wars have taken their toll. And Paw is doing just fine, he's not the only doctor in town.," replied Edan in a equally thick Scottish accent.
"Then why can't you stay at the Academy and teach or go to one of the Star Fleet hospitals here on Earth? Another star ship Edan; Why? A Mither should never have to bury her son. We almost lost you last time, barely made it back with the hide on your skin. I swear to Saint Fergus you are going to be the death of me," she exclaimed exasperatedly.
"Those butter tablets will be the death of you," Edan said mockingly.
"Shush, you know I like my tablets and don't change the subject," his mother shot back.
"Seriously woman, how many have you had today, and how can you eat those things all the time and not gain a pound? It'll catch up to you know, you'll wake up one morning and be as big as Aunt Joan. I heard she fell on Uncle Craig and almost crushed him to death," mused Edan.
Edan's mother seemed to ignore his last comments. She popped another Scottish desert treat in her mouth from the kitchen table before turning her back to him and continuing to rinse off the fresh vegetables in the sink. Determined now to give him the silent treatment, a tactic she had used on his father many times.
For his part, Edan was content to play her little game. He continued to sit in silence at the kitchen table sipping his coffee. After a few minutes the kitchen door opened and a older distinguished looking gentleman stepped inside. He took one look at Edan and Grizel and said "So, what have you two been fighting about?"
"Acair you need to talk some sense into your son's thick head. He just won't listen to reason," Grizel pleaded with her husband.
"Are you two still fighting about that? It's been three days. He's leaving in the morning, can't you two call a truce for one night so we can have a peaceful supper," answered Acair.
"You are certainly no help! I guess you don't care that your only son could be killed going off to Fergus knows where in that star ship," she responded visibly upset.
"Oh now Grizel, he's a Balfour, we're hard to kill. After all my brother Craig has survived Joan all these years," Alcair said, which caused Edan to burst out laughing.
"We each have our destiny, our life journey to make. Edan must follow his own path and trust to providence. We all die, it is just a matter of where and when," Alcair continued, now sitting down at the table across from Edan.
"Well, I prefer that he die long after us," Grizel retorted not turning away from the sink.
"So, your new ship, the Chin'toka. I assume it is named after the battles in the Dominion Wars," Alcair said to Edan trying to change the subject.
"Yes," Edan agreed.
"See, your Mither isn't the only historian in the family," Alcair said proudly.
"It is also a heavy cruiser just like the Endeavor, so I shouldn't have any problems settling in and knowing my way around," Edan added.
"Good, good. Well tonight we will celebrate your return to space with the fine meal your Mither is preparing and enjoy being together until the next time we're all together again. I'll even brake out my special bottle of Scotch for the occasion, Alcair declared.
Just what need in the morning...a hangover.
"You've got twenty years in already, why can't you just retire and move back here. Acair could certainly use the help. He's not getting any younger you know," Grizel Balfour said in a thick Scottish accent.
AH, finally here comes the guilt trip.
"Mither, we've been over this already. I can't just up and retire. Star Fleet needs all the doctors they can get right now. The wars have taken their toll. And Paw is doing just fine, he's not the only doctor in town.," replied Edan in a equally thick Scottish accent.
"Then why can't you stay at the Academy and teach or go to one of the Star Fleet hospitals here on Earth? Another star ship Edan; Why? A Mither should never have to bury her son. We almost lost you last time, barely made it back with the hide on your skin. I swear to Saint Fergus you are going to be the death of me," she exclaimed exasperatedly.
"Those butter tablets will be the death of you," Edan said mockingly.
"Shush, you know I like my tablets and don't change the subject," his mother shot back.
"Seriously woman, how many have you had today, and how can you eat those things all the time and not gain a pound? It'll catch up to you know, you'll wake up one morning and be as big as Aunt Joan. I heard she fell on Uncle Craig and almost crushed him to death," mused Edan.
Edan's mother seemed to ignore his last comments. She popped another Scottish desert treat in her mouth from the kitchen table before turning her back to him and continuing to rinse off the fresh vegetables in the sink. Determined now to give him the silent treatment, a tactic she had used on his father many times.
For his part, Edan was content to play her little game. He continued to sit in silence at the kitchen table sipping his coffee. After a few minutes the kitchen door opened and a older distinguished looking gentleman stepped inside. He took one look at Edan and Grizel and said "So, what have you two been fighting about?"
"Acair you need to talk some sense into your son's thick head. He just won't listen to reason," Grizel pleaded with her husband.
"Are you two still fighting about that? It's been three days. He's leaving in the morning, can't you two call a truce for one night so we can have a peaceful supper," answered Acair.
"You are certainly no help! I guess you don't care that your only son could be killed going off to Fergus knows where in that star ship," she responded visibly upset.
"Oh now Grizel, he's a Balfour, we're hard to kill. After all my brother Craig has survived Joan all these years," Alcair said, which caused Edan to burst out laughing.
"We each have our destiny, our life journey to make. Edan must follow his own path and trust to providence. We all die, it is just a matter of where and when," Alcair continued, now sitting down at the table across from Edan.
"Well, I prefer that he die long after us," Grizel retorted not turning away from the sink.
"So, your new ship, the Chin'toka. I assume it is named after the battles in the Dominion Wars," Alcair said to Edan trying to change the subject.
"Yes," Edan agreed.
"See, your Mither isn't the only historian in the family," Alcair said proudly.
"It is also a heavy cruiser just like the Endeavor, so I shouldn't have any problems settling in and knowing my way around," Edan added.
"Good, good. Well tonight we will celebrate your return to space with the fine meal your Mither is preparing and enjoy being together until the next time we're all together again. I'll even brake out my special bottle of Scotch for the occasion, Alcair declared.
Just what need in the morning...a hangover.
#171
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.21 @ 16:07 (04:07 PM)
>> Star Fleet Academy Grounds >>
The kind of place Captain Torgh brought Midshipman Jack Sullivan to was not what one might expect a Star Fleet Captain to be going to. Especially in uniform.
It was in an older part of town. Torgh wasn’t sure what the part of town was called, but it certainly wasn’t as maintained or patrolled as other parts of the San Francisco area. It was dirtier. Grittier. It had been said that at certain times of day people didn’t walk the streets alone. Even armed.
Torgh had only been to this tavern a couple of times. At night. Out of uniform. He didn’t give a thought to the fact that he was now walking in here dressed in a Star Fleet uniform, command colors, four golden pips on his collar. Of course he was Klingon. And he also wasn’t alone. He had that puny doctor with him. And he was armed… always. Even if not visibly at the moment.
Torgh had also chose to walk. It was only a half-dozen kilometers, and in the relatively low gravity of Earth it was no effort for the Klingon. He walked at a brisk pace, and did not speak on the way, allowing the young officer to spend his time looking at the PADD, which had the roster and the ship profile on it.
When they reached the establishment it was simply a metal door in a brick wall. A neon sign above had a name in a language Torgh did not understand, and an outline of a palm tree. Half of it was burnt out. It used standard characters, but it didn’t flow well off a Klingon tongue so he never tried saying it aloud. The door was closed.
Torgh pounded on it with his fist, three times, and then pushed it open. It squeaked. There was clear rust on the hinges.
Inside was dark, smokey (rare in this era), and there was some sort of low thumping sound coming from speakers in the wall. Torgh was pretty sure it was music. It had good beat. He could probably compose a Klingon drinking song to it if he desired.
He did not.
He moved into the room, and several people looked up. It was a mixed crowd, species-wise. There was a little of everything in here. It was about half-full. Later it would be shoulder-to-shoulder. A murmur went through the room, and Torgh ignored it. The bartender stared at him. He recognized the bartender, although he did not know her name. She had green skin—like an Orion. But she wasn’t Orion. Definitely not. She looked more like a Tellarite. A green one. Could Tellarites and Orions cross-breed? He did not think so.
She looked him up and down as he approached the bar. He looked around, saw an empty table. In a corner. Perfect.
He looked at the Midshipman. Nodded toward the booth. Go sit there.
He turned back to the bartender.
“One bottle of warnog,” he said. “Vintage 2393, Khitomer. Two mugs.”
“Dirty mugs,” asked the bartender sarcastically. Torgh did not understand the joke.
“It does not matter. They will not be used for surgery,” he answered.
People were still staring at him. Some with mild hostility. Some with curiosity. None with friendship. He ignored them.
The bartender placed a ceramic mug on the bar. Two metal mugs—proper mugs. Torgh looked at them. They were tarnished. One had what looked like blood on the edge. He nodded, reached out to pick them up.
The bartender stopped him, grabbed his forearm. She had a strong grip. He looked up at her, bared his teeth.
“Twelve credits,” she said. “Cash.”
Of course. Commerce.
He reached into his pocket, drew out the proper amount of latinum. The exact amount. And then added ten credits’ worth. Placed them on the bar. She let go of his arm, and he took his order to the table. Placed the jug in the middle of the table. Filled both mugs. Took one and emptied it into his mouth. Refilled it.
“Drink. And talk.”
== Tag ==
The kind of place Captain Torgh brought Midshipman Jack Sullivan to was not what one might expect a Star Fleet Captain to be going to. Especially in uniform.
It was in an older part of town. Torgh wasn’t sure what the part of town was called, but it certainly wasn’t as maintained or patrolled as other parts of the San Francisco area. It was dirtier. Grittier. It had been said that at certain times of day people didn’t walk the streets alone. Even armed.
Torgh had only been to this tavern a couple of times. At night. Out of uniform. He didn’t give a thought to the fact that he was now walking in here dressed in a Star Fleet uniform, command colors, four golden pips on his collar. Of course he was Klingon. And he also wasn’t alone. He had that puny doctor with him. And he was armed… always. Even if not visibly at the moment.
Torgh had also chose to walk. It was only a half-dozen kilometers, and in the relatively low gravity of Earth it was no effort for the Klingon. He walked at a brisk pace, and did not speak on the way, allowing the young officer to spend his time looking at the PADD, which had the roster and the ship profile on it.
When they reached the establishment it was simply a metal door in a brick wall. A neon sign above had a name in a language Torgh did not understand, and an outline of a palm tree. Half of it was burnt out. It used standard characters, but it didn’t flow well off a Klingon tongue so he never tried saying it aloud. The door was closed.
Torgh pounded on it with his fist, three times, and then pushed it open. It squeaked. There was clear rust on the hinges.
Inside was dark, smokey (rare in this era), and there was some sort of low thumping sound coming from speakers in the wall. Torgh was pretty sure it was music. It had good beat. He could probably compose a Klingon drinking song to it if he desired.
He did not.
He moved into the room, and several people looked up. It was a mixed crowd, species-wise. There was a little of everything in here. It was about half-full. Later it would be shoulder-to-shoulder. A murmur went through the room, and Torgh ignored it. The bartender stared at him. He recognized the bartender, although he did not know her name. She had green skin—like an Orion. But she wasn’t Orion. Definitely not. She looked more like a Tellarite. A green one. Could Tellarites and Orions cross-breed? He did not think so.
She looked him up and down as he approached the bar. He looked around, saw an empty table. In a corner. Perfect.
He looked at the Midshipman. Nodded toward the booth. Go sit there.
He turned back to the bartender.
“One bottle of warnog,” he said. “Vintage 2393, Khitomer. Two mugs.”
“Dirty mugs,” asked the bartender sarcastically. Torgh did not understand the joke.
“It does not matter. They will not be used for surgery,” he answered.
People were still staring at him. Some with mild hostility. Some with curiosity. None with friendship. He ignored them.
The bartender placed a ceramic mug on the bar. Two metal mugs—proper mugs. Torgh looked at them. They were tarnished. One had what looked like blood on the edge. He nodded, reached out to pick them up.
The bartender stopped him, grabbed his forearm. She had a strong grip. He looked up at her, bared his teeth.
“Twelve credits,” she said. “Cash.”
Of course. Commerce.
He reached into his pocket, drew out the proper amount of latinum. The exact amount. And then added ten credits’ worth. Placed them on the bar. She let go of his arm, and he took his order to the table. Placed the jug in the middle of the table. Filled both mugs. Took one and emptied it into his mouth. Refilled it.
“Drink. And talk.”
== Tag ==
#172
Guest_Ens John Sullivan_*
Guest_Ens John Sullivan_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.21 @ 22:11 (10:11 PM)
If Jack had known where Torgh was headed, he would have suggested the trolley...or some place else entirely. Instead, he just kept up the nearly 120 steps per minute pace, reminding Jack of the drill field in boot camp, and remained almost completely silent. By being handed the PADD with the Plato's manifest on it, Torgh's expectations were clear. Something Jack now was willing to bet was standard for the Captain. He expected Jack to make good on his earlier request of the new Doctor's insight on the all Midshipman crew.
So...all fresh Grads. We're all classmates. Why didn't I get selected for this? Maybe it's a punishment...
Jack juggled this task as best he could, rapidly looking down, then up again to avoid bumping into other pedestrians, physical options, or worst of all, Torgh himself. He did a fairly average job at this task, still curious as to what the criteria was for selection, until he started to see more of where the two of them were headed. Jack had seen a good amount of San Francisco in his four years as a Cadet, and the way they were headed was one which, even on his most daring outings, Jack would have never chosen.
I guess I'm in good company. The Captain looks like he can handle himself. Security or Police would probably respond quickly to a Captain calling for backup...right?
Forcing himself to focus on the PADD, he stopped when he came to the medical department of the diminutive USS Plato.
"Sanders?!" Jack said aloud, but not so much that Torgh seemed to notice; at least he didn't seem to have anyway. Jack shook his head again, in disbelief and also disgust. But what did he care? Its not like he as going with them. Jack gave up anymore on the PADD now. This area was south of Fisherman's wharf, and significantly farther off the 'beaten path' than most would dare venture. For the first time, and which he figured would not be the only time, Jack wished he had been able to requisition a side arm for this little visit. He unconsciously adjusted his comm badge on his chest, touching the only talisman he had that would possibly provide any help if he were to get in trouble. And perhaps Torgh, but not even his subconscious mind would drive him to reach out and touch him. Not even after half the drinks he would need to consume in the next hour to feel safe in the establishment they stopped in front of.
Jack looked up at the worn down old sign, and again, couldn't help but laugh.
It read: 'Captain Jack's Office' in lighted letters, but half of the letters were burned out or otherwise unlit, to include the 'ice' in office and the word 'Captain'. Again he looked up to Torgh, who again, showed no sign of acknowledgement. When the door creaked open in response to Torgh's meaty fist poundings, the smoke and din from the interior immediately did it's job. Jack instantly desired a stiff drink, and a pack of smokes. Neither were in his possession, but both, he hoped dearly, could be obtained within. Trying not to let his eyes grow too wide at the none-too-friendly appearing patrons of the bar, Jack followed him in.
He tried to make as small of figure as possible as they weaved through the crowd, knowing that even an unintentional collision would wind him up in some serious trouble. Jack was too busy looking around, but trying not to make eye contact with anyone, to notice or pay attention to the bar tender. Jack was unsure of a lot of things, but of one thing he was positive.
This is not the kind of place I was headed to out in Castro. Even with the Captain, I think I'd rather be there though...
Not even the wildest gay bar in San Francisco that Jack had been to was anywhere near as outlandish as this bar; and in a whole different way. He looked back to Torgh in time to take direction to the secluded corner booth. He nodded and made a beeline right for it. Welcoming the opportunity to put his back to something besides the open room, Jack went back to the PADD, pretending to study it, but praying not to be approached by any of the several rough looking characters. The placing of the jug and two mugs startled Jack, and he jumped slightly. Looking up, he was grateful to see that the Captain had brought something to drink, and it smelled strong.
He took the filled mug offered and gaped in amazement as Torgh emptied his own in a matter of seconds, only to refill it.
“Drink. And talk.” The stoic senior officer commanded. And Jack obeyed.
Here goes nothing...
He lifted the mug in salute, tapped the bottom on the table surface lightly, then lifted the vessel to his lips. Before he even tasted the liquid, the pungent odor made him sputter, spraying a bit of the drink onto the sides of his face from the exhale out his nose. He tried to drink deeply as Torgh had exemplified, but couldn't do it. He caughed as his eyes watered and turned red, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision, not realizing he had no hope to clear his mind. Placing the mug down he lifted his hand to wipe the back of it accross his mouth.
"Ho-holy ****...sir." He looked at his mug again, vision coming back into focus. His eyes going wide again as he examined the vessel.
Is that blood. He looked back to Torgh, and the PADD.
"I uh, mean, thank you sir. For the drink that is..." He looked around again, wondering if he dared approach the bar and inquire about smokes, but instead indicated to the PADD on the table top.
"So what can I tell you Captain? It was an interesting read....I have my own questions...." Like why the hell they stuck him with Sanders. "But, what do you need to know?"
== Back at ya! ==
So...all fresh Grads. We're all classmates. Why didn't I get selected for this? Maybe it's a punishment...
Jack juggled this task as best he could, rapidly looking down, then up again to avoid bumping into other pedestrians, physical options, or worst of all, Torgh himself. He did a fairly average job at this task, still curious as to what the criteria was for selection, until he started to see more of where the two of them were headed. Jack had seen a good amount of San Francisco in his four years as a Cadet, and the way they were headed was one which, even on his most daring outings, Jack would have never chosen.
I guess I'm in good company. The Captain looks like he can handle himself. Security or Police would probably respond quickly to a Captain calling for backup...right?
Forcing himself to focus on the PADD, he stopped when he came to the medical department of the diminutive USS Plato.
"Sanders?!" Jack said aloud, but not so much that Torgh seemed to notice; at least he didn't seem to have anyway. Jack shook his head again, in disbelief and also disgust. But what did he care? Its not like he as going with them. Jack gave up anymore on the PADD now. This area was south of Fisherman's wharf, and significantly farther off the 'beaten path' than most would dare venture. For the first time, and which he figured would not be the only time, Jack wished he had been able to requisition a side arm for this little visit. He unconsciously adjusted his comm badge on his chest, touching the only talisman he had that would possibly provide any help if he were to get in trouble. And perhaps Torgh, but not even his subconscious mind would drive him to reach out and touch him. Not even after half the drinks he would need to consume in the next hour to feel safe in the establishment they stopped in front of.
Jack looked up at the worn down old sign, and again, couldn't help but laugh.
It read: 'Captain Jack's Office' in lighted letters, but half of the letters were burned out or otherwise unlit, to include the 'ice' in office and the word 'Captain'. Again he looked up to Torgh, who again, showed no sign of acknowledgement. When the door creaked open in response to Torgh's meaty fist poundings, the smoke and din from the interior immediately did it's job. Jack instantly desired a stiff drink, and a pack of smokes. Neither were in his possession, but both, he hoped dearly, could be obtained within. Trying not to let his eyes grow too wide at the none-too-friendly appearing patrons of the bar, Jack followed him in.
He tried to make as small of figure as possible as they weaved through the crowd, knowing that even an unintentional collision would wind him up in some serious trouble. Jack was too busy looking around, but trying not to make eye contact with anyone, to notice or pay attention to the bar tender. Jack was unsure of a lot of things, but of one thing he was positive.
This is not the kind of place I was headed to out in Castro. Even with the Captain, I think I'd rather be there though...
Not even the wildest gay bar in San Francisco that Jack had been to was anywhere near as outlandish as this bar; and in a whole different way. He looked back to Torgh in time to take direction to the secluded corner booth. He nodded and made a beeline right for it. Welcoming the opportunity to put his back to something besides the open room, Jack went back to the PADD, pretending to study it, but praying not to be approached by any of the several rough looking characters. The placing of the jug and two mugs startled Jack, and he jumped slightly. Looking up, he was grateful to see that the Captain had brought something to drink, and it smelled strong.
He took the filled mug offered and gaped in amazement as Torgh emptied his own in a matter of seconds, only to refill it.
“Drink. And talk.” The stoic senior officer commanded. And Jack obeyed.
Here goes nothing...
He lifted the mug in salute, tapped the bottom on the table surface lightly, then lifted the vessel to his lips. Before he even tasted the liquid, the pungent odor made him sputter, spraying a bit of the drink onto the sides of his face from the exhale out his nose. He tried to drink deeply as Torgh had exemplified, but couldn't do it. He caughed as his eyes watered and turned red, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision, not realizing he had no hope to clear his mind. Placing the mug down he lifted his hand to wipe the back of it accross his mouth.
"Ho-holy ****...sir." He looked at his mug again, vision coming back into focus. His eyes going wide again as he examined the vessel.
Is that blood. He looked back to Torgh, and the PADD.
"I uh, mean, thank you sir. For the drink that is..." He looked around again, wondering if he dared approach the bar and inquire about smokes, but instead indicated to the PADD on the table top.
"So what can I tell you Captain? It was an interesting read....I have my own questions...." Like why the hell they stuck him with Sanders. "But, what do you need to know?"
== Back at ya! ==
#173
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.21 @ 23:51 (11:51 PM)
Torgh watched pointedly as Sullivan tried to down the warnog. Most tera'nganpu' wouldn't even try. Sullivan did a halfway decent job.
He must come from a family of alcoholics. Perhaps an entire sub-species of humans who have a very high tolerance.
While Sullivan's eyes had gotten slightly watery, a bit red, and his face had instantly flushed, he did swallow (most) of the drink. He did not seem to notice the bit that dribbled down onto his tunic when he'd coughed. But at least he'd properly wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
I am impressed.
Then he asked about the PADD. Torgh shrugged.
"I don't really care," he said. "I just do not like to drink alone."
Now he laughed, a deep, table vibrating, loud, belly laugh. The kind that could bring fear into a man with a weak heart. But his eyes showed he was very entertained. He nodded toward the bar, pulled out 30 credits.
"Go get a proper Terran drink. Another drink of warnog like that and you will be of no use to anyone--other than a mortician. When you get back we will discuss your future."
Torgh took Sullivan's mug from the table, drank his down, and then refilled both mugs. Set them both in front of himself.
When Sullivan got up, Torgh took the PADD. It was still linked wirelessly into the academy database. And it had identified the last person to touch it as [SULLIVAN, John, MID, Medical]. A Captain, even in his position, had some ability to adjust the roster of his command. And since Sullivan's assignment was pending final approval, he adjusted it, along with his own roster.
He deleted Sanders. He added Sullivan as ship's medic. Sullivan could get a transport from Delta to Bravo. He then set the PADD back down, and just in time, as a man walked up to the table.
Sullivan was just getting done at the bar.
Torgh looked up. The man standing there was big. Larger than Torgh. Appeared human. Sandy hair, probably around 10cm taller than Torgh. Maybe 20 kilo's heavier. He had on trousers that were shiny and looked like they had been molded to him. His shirt covered only the breast area, and was of a bright fuscia. Piercings in his brows, nose, ears, and lip. When he smiled down at the seated Torgh there was a gleam of something metallic in his teeth.
"nuqneH?" inquired Torgh, with no malice. It was a simple question, a greeting.
The big guy looked over his right shoulder to where a few others were. They were equally interesting in their attire, but Torgh didn't know if maybe it was the current style on Earth, or this part of Earth. Maybe the circus was in town.
"He fellas, you're right. It doesn't even speak. Just growls like a dog."
Three other guys--smaller than this one--got up from a table. They didn't move closer. They were watching. Watching Torgh and their buddy. And Sullivan.
Torgh let out a deep sigh, picked up his mug to take another drink. The big guy nudged it with his arm, deliberately spilling the warnog all over the table and Torgh.
Torgh set the almost empty mug down, firmly. Reached over, unclipped his communicator. Placed it on the table, and then slid out and stood, facing the tera'ngan. Although he wasn't sure the man was Terran. Many races looked a lot like Terrans.
He was staring at the man's chin.
He unclipped his rank pips, set them next to the communicator.
The big guy spoke. "Why don't we go outside? Don't wanna bust up Jack's place."
Torgh looked at him as he slipped his jacket off folded it carefully, set it on the table. He then removed three hidden knives from his person and placed them on the table.
"Here," said Torgh. "If you wish to confront me, then we will do it here. If you break anything, then you will pay for it."
"The only thing we're gonna break is you, Klingon dog."
Torgh turned back. They were less than 1/4-meter apart. Big guy was smiling, looked over at his buddies.
That's when Torgh struck.
Klingon combat involves a lot of honor, and a lot of advanced hand-to-hand technique. There are different types of fighting for different situations. In a bar fight there is only one steadfast rule. The only honorable thing is to win. And try not to kill your opponent--unless they draw a weapon. If they draw a weapon, then it becomes a fight to the death.
Torgh brought his left knee up, with as much force as he could muster. At the same time he sprung his left shin and ankle muscles so that he hopped a few centimeters up. His target was not the man's groin. It was a place a few centimeters above and behind his groin--in the middle of his pelvic region.
While he did this, he brought is arms up in front of him, his fists clasped together, driving up toward where he expected that the man's head would be as he bent over from having his genitalia crushed. His fists slammed into the man's jaw, and he felt the bones shatter under an impact from a man who'd been bred and born in a higher gravity. A fist that was harder and muscles that were denser, than that of almost any human alive.
The man fell over sideways and backward, onto the open floor, blood pouring from his mouth. He was conscious, but not in the best of shape. Torgh could have kicked him in the chest and crushed his ribcage. But he already felt bad. For the bartender. There was a spray of blood on the floor and it would need to be cleaned up.
Torgh looked up from the downed man a half-second too late. He'd made the mistake of being distracted by his easy victory. The chair smashed into the side of his head, the leg splitting. His ear rang and he felt the skin split. The force of the swing, along with Torgh's unpreparedness, resulted in his staggering to the side.
Does a chair constitute a weapon in a bar fight? Torgh pondered as he shook off the ringing in his head. No. Not yet. No bladed or energy weapons. Those will change the rules.
He turned toward his opponent. Either his vision was blurred or there were four of them...
== Tag Sullivan ==
He must come from a family of alcoholics. Perhaps an entire sub-species of humans who have a very high tolerance.
While Sullivan's eyes had gotten slightly watery, a bit red, and his face had instantly flushed, he did swallow (most) of the drink. He did not seem to notice the bit that dribbled down onto his tunic when he'd coughed. But at least he'd properly wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
I am impressed.
Then he asked about the PADD. Torgh shrugged.
"I don't really care," he said. "I just do not like to drink alone."
Now he laughed, a deep, table vibrating, loud, belly laugh. The kind that could bring fear into a man with a weak heart. But his eyes showed he was very entertained. He nodded toward the bar, pulled out 30 credits.
"Go get a proper Terran drink. Another drink of warnog like that and you will be of no use to anyone--other than a mortician. When you get back we will discuss your future."
Torgh took Sullivan's mug from the table, drank his down, and then refilled both mugs. Set them both in front of himself.
When Sullivan got up, Torgh took the PADD. It was still linked wirelessly into the academy database. And it had identified the last person to touch it as [SULLIVAN, John, MID, Medical]. A Captain, even in his position, had some ability to adjust the roster of his command. And since Sullivan's assignment was pending final approval, he adjusted it, along with his own roster.
He deleted Sanders. He added Sullivan as ship's medic. Sullivan could get a transport from Delta to Bravo. He then set the PADD back down, and just in time, as a man walked up to the table.
Sullivan was just getting done at the bar.
Torgh looked up. The man standing there was big. Larger than Torgh. Appeared human. Sandy hair, probably around 10cm taller than Torgh. Maybe 20 kilo's heavier. He had on trousers that were shiny and looked like they had been molded to him. His shirt covered only the breast area, and was of a bright fuscia. Piercings in his brows, nose, ears, and lip. When he smiled down at the seated Torgh there was a gleam of something metallic in his teeth.
"nuqneH?" inquired Torgh, with no malice. It was a simple question, a greeting.
The big guy looked over his right shoulder to where a few others were. They were equally interesting in their attire, but Torgh didn't know if maybe it was the current style on Earth, or this part of Earth. Maybe the circus was in town.
"He fellas, you're right. It doesn't even speak. Just growls like a dog."
Three other guys--smaller than this one--got up from a table. They didn't move closer. They were watching. Watching Torgh and their buddy. And Sullivan.
Torgh let out a deep sigh, picked up his mug to take another drink. The big guy nudged it with his arm, deliberately spilling the warnog all over the table and Torgh.
Torgh set the almost empty mug down, firmly. Reached over, unclipped his communicator. Placed it on the table, and then slid out and stood, facing the tera'ngan. Although he wasn't sure the man was Terran. Many races looked a lot like Terrans.
He was staring at the man's chin.
He unclipped his rank pips, set them next to the communicator.
The big guy spoke. "Why don't we go outside? Don't wanna bust up Jack's place."
Torgh looked at him as he slipped his jacket off folded it carefully, set it on the table. He then removed three hidden knives from his person and placed them on the table.
"Here," said Torgh. "If you wish to confront me, then we will do it here. If you break anything, then you will pay for it."
"The only thing we're gonna break is you, Klingon dog."
Torgh turned back. They were less than 1/4-meter apart. Big guy was smiling, looked over at his buddies.
That's when Torgh struck.
Klingon combat involves a lot of honor, and a lot of advanced hand-to-hand technique. There are different types of fighting for different situations. In a bar fight there is only one steadfast rule. The only honorable thing is to win. And try not to kill your opponent--unless they draw a weapon. If they draw a weapon, then it becomes a fight to the death.
Torgh brought his left knee up, with as much force as he could muster. At the same time he sprung his left shin and ankle muscles so that he hopped a few centimeters up. His target was not the man's groin. It was a place a few centimeters above and behind his groin--in the middle of his pelvic region.
While he did this, he brought is arms up in front of him, his fists clasped together, driving up toward where he expected that the man's head would be as he bent over from having his genitalia crushed. His fists slammed into the man's jaw, and he felt the bones shatter under an impact from a man who'd been bred and born in a higher gravity. A fist that was harder and muscles that were denser, than that of almost any human alive.
The man fell over sideways and backward, onto the open floor, blood pouring from his mouth. He was conscious, but not in the best of shape. Torgh could have kicked him in the chest and crushed his ribcage. But he already felt bad. For the bartender. There was a spray of blood on the floor and it would need to be cleaned up.
Torgh looked up from the downed man a half-second too late. He'd made the mistake of being distracted by his easy victory. The chair smashed into the side of his head, the leg splitting. His ear rang and he felt the skin split. The force of the swing, along with Torgh's unpreparedness, resulted in his staggering to the side.
Does a chair constitute a weapon in a bar fight? Torgh pondered as he shook off the ringing in his head. No. Not yet. No bladed or energy weapons. Those will change the rules.
He turned toward his opponent. Either his vision was blurred or there were four of them...
== Tag Sullivan ==
#174
Guest_Ens John Sullivan_*
Guest_Ens John Sullivan_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.22 @ 01:26 (01:26 AM)
"I don't really care," he said. "I just do not like to drink alone."
Jack inclined his head and gave a stern but confused look to Torgh.
Are you freaking kidding me? After that Ba'taan death march you lead me on...?!
But then, the instant Torgh let out his roaring warrior laugh, and it didn't take more than a split moment for Jack to catch on. He started to chuckle too, and immediately he felt the warmth of the warnog shoot through his veins. Or at least the high alcohol content of his first partial drink was high enough that he was sure he had felt that happen. He'd never know for sure. Jack smiling now, face red from him laughing too, it now matching his pale complected red freckled and brown-red hair, rose at Torgh's offer to buy him a more suitable drink.
He saw the Captain offer the tender to purchase the round, but pretended he didn't see it. The hit from whatever he had just imbibed was worth three rounds of whatever Jack would have normally purchased. "Thanks boss." He said instead, and headed to the bar. Somehow, already with the drink kicking in and the smoke in the atmosphere, Jack was feeling far more invincible than the quivering rabbit that he was upon entering the joint. Reaching the bar, he ordered a pint of Stout and a shot of their mid-range whiskey. He was delighted to see that he was also able to purchase a pack of cigarettes, or what he assumed were they. The server, a strange squat humanoid half way between an elf and a pig, was not pleased to speak with Jack, nor receive his money, regardless of the generous tip. Jack avoided the gazes of those adjacent to him, quickly threw back the shot, inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, and then sighed with satisfaction. Pleased to see the barkeep had provided a plasma lighter with the smokes, he extracted one from the fresh but shabby looking pack, and light it up. inhaling forcefully, and exhaling ritualistically, he lifted his fresh pint to take a sip just as he turned around to lean his back on the bar and look towards the booth where Torgh had been sitting.
But what Jack saw made his blood turn cold, and everything in view seem to slow down. The scene was a classic, recognizable to anyone who had spent as much time in bars, pubs, and watering holes as old Mrs. Sullivan's boy Johnny had. Jack didn't know who started it, but Torgh was about to get into a serious tussle with a humanoid who, almost impossibly, towered over him. Worse yet, the mongoloid had buddies.
Aww ****...
Jack took a long sip from his pint and then set it down on the bar. He then looked at the lit cig in his hand, shook his head ruefully, and took one last long drag, before stuffing it out in the ashtray on the bar. He slid the pack into one of his uniform jacket's inner pockets, and picked up the lighter, showing it to the bar tender.
"Mind if I hang on to this?" He asked without stopping for a response, depositing the device next to the smokes. With the same hand he withdrew his currency container and emptied it's contents on the bar. "You're gonna want this in a bit." He said ominously. He picked up the pint again, drank as much as he could, then wiped his mouth before stepping off.
At first his instinct was to head for Torgh. Perhaps he could intervene and extract them both for a well timed exit. But as he weaved his way through the growing crowd, he was able to catch a glimpse of the Captain coming to his feat, removing his communicator, rank pips, uniform jacket, and then what looked like blades of some sort.
I guess that rules out calling for backup. If he's not gonna, I'm sure as hell not gonna...
Jack as only a few meters away when the action started, and at that point he decided to change course.
He heard the bone cracking of forceful impacts, but knew not of who was hitting whom and where. If Torgh was delivering the proper walloping that his assailant deserved, and Jack guessed he was, then the Captain would need no help from him. But if he was on the receiving end of the punishment, the last thing his new Klingon drinking buddy would need, was the big dude's three companions joining in to finish him off. Plus, as Jack duely noted now, facing the three amigos, they had been watching him as well. None of them looked like they just wanted to chat.
Well **** again. I guess I wasn't gonna keep this pretty face forever...
Jack plastered on a **** eating grin, and feigned ignorance and naivete as best he could, trying to close distance with the three as rapidly as possible without alerting them to a potential threat in and of himself. He raised his hands halfway as he continued his approach. He tried his best and most congenial tone as he was within earshot now.
"Hey guys, look. I really don't think..." He continued with his smile and conciliatory tone, pretending to be putting out one hand in a peace offering, as if for a handshake or something. As soon as he was able, the hand shot the rest of the way out, and grabbed the biceps of the nearest foe. Less than half a second later, Jack was pulling his new adversary toward him, right up close and even with his own posture.
Jack only stood an even 5 foot ten inches, and was by no means a big man, but his years in the corps, and then as a combat medic, hadn't made him soft to physical altercations by any means. Not to mention his affinity for frequenting bars only somewhat less rough than this. Multiplying the force of pulling the man towards himself, Jack tensed his neck and sent the apex of his curved forehead straight into the bridge of the other man's nose. His frontal bone connected almost flawlessly with the space where the cartilage met the bone of his opponent, sending out a blood curdling crack-smack sound.
Jack was blessed with several genetic gifts, and one of them was a slightly thicker than normal Glabella. The force of the strike sent his target's head snapping back, hyper extending the first and second vertebrae and inflicting an excruciating acute headache to the base of the brain, as well as a sharp yet throbbing contusion to the frontal bone of the unsuspecting bar thug. Blood sprayed down his mouth and some of it was left on Jack's forehead. A particular splatter had been fortunate for the spry new doctor. It had excreted directly into the second thug's eye, who was standing adjacent to his crony. His instinct was to recoil in shock and disgust.
Jack wouldn't let the side effect of his headbutt kick in before he struck again. He simply wouldn't allow it. Also, the drinking probably helped. The man with the blood in his eye was more pudgy than he, or either of his friends, but that wasn't taken into account by the Doctor's assault on him. He shot out a side kick with his left leg, springing his knee at almost the perfect time to deliver the maximum kinetic energy to the soft and doughy midsection of the balding squat man. The boot impacted precisely at the man's belly button. But his own genetic traits, in this case the extra layer of fat, helped cushion the blow. He was knocked back slightly, and partially bent over from the blow, but he was able to institutionally grab hold of Sullivan's boot before Jack was able to retract the limb. He was in serious **** now. There was only one thing he could think of to do, and had zero idea if his unarmed combat instructors would have approved of his next move.
With all his might he pushed forward onto his captured leg, and pivoted his right foot up and over his own center axis. He allowed himself to momentarily remain perpendicular to the bar floor, aligning his hip joint with the left foot held by the second opponent, but only for a moment. He rolled his body like a log, forcing his face and chest over, in mid air but toward the floor, bringing his other foot, now airborne, up, over, and around poised to strike the back of the man's head. He made contact, but the reckless flail of Jack's body sent him spinning in the air and tossing and turning into a hard thud and splayed landing, crashing to the dirty and sticky floor.
He didn't have the time he wanted to collect himself, as the third untouched comrade of his enemies came forward, intent on flattening Jack's skull with his boot. Jack spun away, and found himself crab-walk-crawling backwards, away from the stomping onslaught. He was able to, just for a moment, register that his latest assailant was actually female. But she was also being joined by the first man he had struck, who was still clutching his bloody and smashed-in face with both hands. Jack shot a glance back, in the direction he was skittering, and saw that he was now beside the boots that belonged to Torgh, just as the Captain absorbed a shattering blow by what had to have been a piece of furniture. Ducking as a piece of a cross support bounced off Jack's shoulder, he was still nearly supine as he attempted to lock eyes with Torgh. Only then did he count the four others attacking the Klingon.
"Uh.." Jack began to utter. "Sir!" Jack raised his voice, trying not to show panic. "There's still six of these mother *******!"
Jack inclined his head and gave a stern but confused look to Torgh.
Are you freaking kidding me? After that Ba'taan death march you lead me on...?!
But then, the instant Torgh let out his roaring warrior laugh, and it didn't take more than a split moment for Jack to catch on. He started to chuckle too, and immediately he felt the warmth of the warnog shoot through his veins. Or at least the high alcohol content of his first partial drink was high enough that he was sure he had felt that happen. He'd never know for sure. Jack smiling now, face red from him laughing too, it now matching his pale complected red freckled and brown-red hair, rose at Torgh's offer to buy him a more suitable drink.
He saw the Captain offer the tender to purchase the round, but pretended he didn't see it. The hit from whatever he had just imbibed was worth three rounds of whatever Jack would have normally purchased. "Thanks boss." He said instead, and headed to the bar. Somehow, already with the drink kicking in and the smoke in the atmosphere, Jack was feeling far more invincible than the quivering rabbit that he was upon entering the joint. Reaching the bar, he ordered a pint of Stout and a shot of their mid-range whiskey. He was delighted to see that he was also able to purchase a pack of cigarettes, or what he assumed were they. The server, a strange squat humanoid half way between an elf and a pig, was not pleased to speak with Jack, nor receive his money, regardless of the generous tip. Jack avoided the gazes of those adjacent to him, quickly threw back the shot, inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, and then sighed with satisfaction. Pleased to see the barkeep had provided a plasma lighter with the smokes, he extracted one from the fresh but shabby looking pack, and light it up. inhaling forcefully, and exhaling ritualistically, he lifted his fresh pint to take a sip just as he turned around to lean his back on the bar and look towards the booth where Torgh had been sitting.
But what Jack saw made his blood turn cold, and everything in view seem to slow down. The scene was a classic, recognizable to anyone who had spent as much time in bars, pubs, and watering holes as old Mrs. Sullivan's boy Johnny had. Jack didn't know who started it, but Torgh was about to get into a serious tussle with a humanoid who, almost impossibly, towered over him. Worse yet, the mongoloid had buddies.
Aww ****...
Jack took a long sip from his pint and then set it down on the bar. He then looked at the lit cig in his hand, shook his head ruefully, and took one last long drag, before stuffing it out in the ashtray on the bar. He slid the pack into one of his uniform jacket's inner pockets, and picked up the lighter, showing it to the bar tender.
"Mind if I hang on to this?" He asked without stopping for a response, depositing the device next to the smokes. With the same hand he withdrew his currency container and emptied it's contents on the bar. "You're gonna want this in a bit." He said ominously. He picked up the pint again, drank as much as he could, then wiped his mouth before stepping off.
At first his instinct was to head for Torgh. Perhaps he could intervene and extract them both for a well timed exit. But as he weaved his way through the growing crowd, he was able to catch a glimpse of the Captain coming to his feat, removing his communicator, rank pips, uniform jacket, and then what looked like blades of some sort.
I guess that rules out calling for backup. If he's not gonna, I'm sure as hell not gonna...
Jack as only a few meters away when the action started, and at that point he decided to change course.
He heard the bone cracking of forceful impacts, but knew not of who was hitting whom and where. If Torgh was delivering the proper walloping that his assailant deserved, and Jack guessed he was, then the Captain would need no help from him. But if he was on the receiving end of the punishment, the last thing his new Klingon drinking buddy would need, was the big dude's three companions joining in to finish him off. Plus, as Jack duely noted now, facing the three amigos, they had been watching him as well. None of them looked like they just wanted to chat.
Well **** again. I guess I wasn't gonna keep this pretty face forever...
Jack plastered on a **** eating grin, and feigned ignorance and naivete as best he could, trying to close distance with the three as rapidly as possible without alerting them to a potential threat in and of himself. He raised his hands halfway as he continued his approach. He tried his best and most congenial tone as he was within earshot now.
"Hey guys, look. I really don't think..." He continued with his smile and conciliatory tone, pretending to be putting out one hand in a peace offering, as if for a handshake or something. As soon as he was able, the hand shot the rest of the way out, and grabbed the biceps of the nearest foe. Less than half a second later, Jack was pulling his new adversary toward him, right up close and even with his own posture.
Jack only stood an even 5 foot ten inches, and was by no means a big man, but his years in the corps, and then as a combat medic, hadn't made him soft to physical altercations by any means. Not to mention his affinity for frequenting bars only somewhat less rough than this. Multiplying the force of pulling the man towards himself, Jack tensed his neck and sent the apex of his curved forehead straight into the bridge of the other man's nose. His frontal bone connected almost flawlessly with the space where the cartilage met the bone of his opponent, sending out a blood curdling crack-smack sound.
Jack was blessed with several genetic gifts, and one of them was a slightly thicker than normal Glabella. The force of the strike sent his target's head snapping back, hyper extending the first and second vertebrae and inflicting an excruciating acute headache to the base of the brain, as well as a sharp yet throbbing contusion to the frontal bone of the unsuspecting bar thug. Blood sprayed down his mouth and some of it was left on Jack's forehead. A particular splatter had been fortunate for the spry new doctor. It had excreted directly into the second thug's eye, who was standing adjacent to his crony. His instinct was to recoil in shock and disgust.
Jack wouldn't let the side effect of his headbutt kick in before he struck again. He simply wouldn't allow it. Also, the drinking probably helped. The man with the blood in his eye was more pudgy than he, or either of his friends, but that wasn't taken into account by the Doctor's assault on him. He shot out a side kick with his left leg, springing his knee at almost the perfect time to deliver the maximum kinetic energy to the soft and doughy midsection of the balding squat man. The boot impacted precisely at the man's belly button. But his own genetic traits, in this case the extra layer of fat, helped cushion the blow. He was knocked back slightly, and partially bent over from the blow, but he was able to institutionally grab hold of Sullivan's boot before Jack was able to retract the limb. He was in serious **** now. There was only one thing he could think of to do, and had zero idea if his unarmed combat instructors would have approved of his next move.
With all his might he pushed forward onto his captured leg, and pivoted his right foot up and over his own center axis. He allowed himself to momentarily remain perpendicular to the bar floor, aligning his hip joint with the left foot held by the second opponent, but only for a moment. He rolled his body like a log, forcing his face and chest over, in mid air but toward the floor, bringing his other foot, now airborne, up, over, and around poised to strike the back of the man's head. He made contact, but the reckless flail of Jack's body sent him spinning in the air and tossing and turning into a hard thud and splayed landing, crashing to the dirty and sticky floor.
He didn't have the time he wanted to collect himself, as the third untouched comrade of his enemies came forward, intent on flattening Jack's skull with his boot. Jack spun away, and found himself crab-walk-crawling backwards, away from the stomping onslaught. He was able to, just for a moment, register that his latest assailant was actually female. But she was also being joined by the first man he had struck, who was still clutching his bloody and smashed-in face with both hands. Jack shot a glance back, in the direction he was skittering, and saw that he was now beside the boots that belonged to Torgh, just as the Captain absorbed a shattering blow by what had to have been a piece of furniture. Ducking as a piece of a cross support bounced off Jack's shoulder, he was still nearly supine as he attempted to lock eyes with Torgh. Only then did he count the four others attacking the Klingon.
"Uh.." Jack began to utter. "Sir!" Jack raised his voice, trying not to show panic. "There's still six of these mother *******!"
#175
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.22 @ 14:12 (02:12 PM)
When a Klingon’s body detects that he is in battle, several physiological and psychological changes occur. Certain glands release adrenaline and other hormones into the body that put the Klingon into what some call a ‘battle rage’. It is not a rage, so much as a very focused mode of operation. The mind and body of a Klingon, genetically, are adapted to survival in a very hostile world. When they detect a certain level of threat, the Klingon becomes a killing machine, focused only on eliminating the threats around him.
Torgh felt his blood pressure rising, his senses naturally becoming more sensitive. He felt his muscles bunching up. His pupils dilated. His nostrils flared. His hearing became very acute—he could literally hear the heartbeat of the person nearest him, smell them, feel their presence on his skin.
So, even as Sullivan shouted to him, Torgh was already reacting, assessing, engaging the enemy.
His left leg shot out toward the man swinging the now broken chair. The assailant had figured that since one hit had very temporarily stunned the Klingon, and cut his ear, that a repeat would be as successful, or more.
It was a nearly fatal mistake.
Torgh’s head ducked 1/3-meter as he swiveled his body, shooting his leg out at the assailant’s off-balance right-leg, which was supporting most of his weight as he swung the chair. Star Fleet boots, while soft by Torgh’s Klingon standards, still had a definite solid heel, and this heel smashed into the man’s leg, hitting the side of his knee with somewhere around 300 kilo’s of force from the Klingon’s swing-kick. Even a Klingon knee would have buckled. The Terran knee shattered, and the man’s leg bent nearly 90-degrees sideways. He felt to the floor, screaming, the chair he had been swinging flying off out of Torgh’s line of sight. He heard something crash, and assumed it was the chair.
Two down.
Star Fleet officers are very well trained in unarmed combat. Klingon warriors are trained in it from childhood. Combine the skills and talents present, and the two Star Fleet officers would inevitably make short work of those attacking them.
With a handful of the assailants down, the rest realized quickly that these two Star Fleet people had the five remaining outnumbered, outgunned, outskilled. They broke and fled for the door.
Torgh instinctively took two steps toward them, his instinct being to finish what he’d started, but thankfully his mind kicked in and he realized this was not the place. Had this been a Klingon bar, he’d have killed them—or at least sent them all to the hospital for a very long time. But then, had this been a Klingon bar they would not only not have fled—they’d have not started the fight under these circumstances.
Torgh took a step back, closed his eyes, let his arms fall to his sides, and took several deep breaths. The air in here was not conducive to those deep breaths, and he found that he needed an extra few moments. His blood pressure came down, his muscles began to relax, and only then did he become aware of the fact that there was a cut on his ear and blood trickling out of it.
He opened his eyes and turned. Medics would be needed for those who he and Sullivan had taken down. Probably serious medical treatment. These were not mere bumps and bruises.
One chair was broken. Other things were just knocked around. The damage was minimal—to the bar.
Torgh turned toward the bartender, pointed at the big ugly who’d started this. “He will pay for the chair.”
And then he turned to Sullivan. Nodded toward the booth. “We should finish our drinks.”
Priorities. I came here to drink and review the Plato. I am at least going to finish. Otherwise they have succeeded in driving me off. Otherwise I have not accomplished my objective.
He made it halfway to the seat when he felt a sharp pain spread from his left buttock. He felt something pierce him. He felt a warm wetness of blood seeping out of where a knife of some sort had been stuck into his upper thigh.
He turned and looked down. The guy with the shattered knee had stuck him with a knife as he walked by. Clearly defeated, the man had dishonorably stabbed Torgh in the back (of his leg).
Torgh withdrew the knife from his backside, looked at it. Poor quality. Not even very sharp.
He looked at the bartender, then at the man, and then at Sullivan.
“To use a bladed weapon to draw blood changes the rules of engagement. This just went from a bar fight to a fight to the death.”
The bartender looked like she was going to call city security. Torgh didn’t need that hassle.
He stepped to the bar, stuck the knife in the wood. Turned back toward the squirming man who’d stabbed him.
“You are not worthy of the honor of death in battle. You will die as a useless old man, unable to urinate or defecate without the help of a nurse.”
He spat on the man, turned back to the table, and sat. Refilled his mug and then emptied it into his mouth.
Torgh felt his blood pressure rising, his senses naturally becoming more sensitive. He felt his muscles bunching up. His pupils dilated. His nostrils flared. His hearing became very acute—he could literally hear the heartbeat of the person nearest him, smell them, feel their presence on his skin.
So, even as Sullivan shouted to him, Torgh was already reacting, assessing, engaging the enemy.
His left leg shot out toward the man swinging the now broken chair. The assailant had figured that since one hit had very temporarily stunned the Klingon, and cut his ear, that a repeat would be as successful, or more.
It was a nearly fatal mistake.
Torgh’s head ducked 1/3-meter as he swiveled his body, shooting his leg out at the assailant’s off-balance right-leg, which was supporting most of his weight as he swung the chair. Star Fleet boots, while soft by Torgh’s Klingon standards, still had a definite solid heel, and this heel smashed into the man’s leg, hitting the side of his knee with somewhere around 300 kilo’s of force from the Klingon’s swing-kick. Even a Klingon knee would have buckled. The Terran knee shattered, and the man’s leg bent nearly 90-degrees sideways. He felt to the floor, screaming, the chair he had been swinging flying off out of Torgh’s line of sight. He heard something crash, and assumed it was the chair.
Two down.
Star Fleet officers are very well trained in unarmed combat. Klingon warriors are trained in it from childhood. Combine the skills and talents present, and the two Star Fleet officers would inevitably make short work of those attacking them.
With a handful of the assailants down, the rest realized quickly that these two Star Fleet people had the five remaining outnumbered, outgunned, outskilled. They broke and fled for the door.
Torgh instinctively took two steps toward them, his instinct being to finish what he’d started, but thankfully his mind kicked in and he realized this was not the place. Had this been a Klingon bar, he’d have killed them—or at least sent them all to the hospital for a very long time. But then, had this been a Klingon bar they would not only not have fled—they’d have not started the fight under these circumstances.
Torgh took a step back, closed his eyes, let his arms fall to his sides, and took several deep breaths. The air in here was not conducive to those deep breaths, and he found that he needed an extra few moments. His blood pressure came down, his muscles began to relax, and only then did he become aware of the fact that there was a cut on his ear and blood trickling out of it.
He opened his eyes and turned. Medics would be needed for those who he and Sullivan had taken down. Probably serious medical treatment. These were not mere bumps and bruises.
One chair was broken. Other things were just knocked around. The damage was minimal—to the bar.
Torgh turned toward the bartender, pointed at the big ugly who’d started this. “He will pay for the chair.”
And then he turned to Sullivan. Nodded toward the booth. “We should finish our drinks.”
Priorities. I came here to drink and review the Plato. I am at least going to finish. Otherwise they have succeeded in driving me off. Otherwise I have not accomplished my objective.
He made it halfway to the seat when he felt a sharp pain spread from his left buttock. He felt something pierce him. He felt a warm wetness of blood seeping out of where a knife of some sort had been stuck into his upper thigh.
He turned and looked down. The guy with the shattered knee had stuck him with a knife as he walked by. Clearly defeated, the man had dishonorably stabbed Torgh in the back (of his leg).
Torgh withdrew the knife from his backside, looked at it. Poor quality. Not even very sharp.
He looked at the bartender, then at the man, and then at Sullivan.
“To use a bladed weapon to draw blood changes the rules of engagement. This just went from a bar fight to a fight to the death.”
The bartender looked like she was going to call city security. Torgh didn’t need that hassle.
He stepped to the bar, stuck the knife in the wood. Turned back toward the squirming man who’d stabbed him.
“You are not worthy of the honor of death in battle. You will die as a useless old man, unable to urinate or defecate without the help of a nurse.”
He spat on the man, turned back to the table, and sat. Refilled his mug and then emptied it into his mouth.
#176
Guest_Ens John Sullivan_*
Guest_Ens John Sullivan_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.22 @ 22:47 (10:47 PM)
There wasn't much Jack could do at this point, save for the small grace of being given time and space to come to his feet. And as he stood up, the rush brought forward the inevitable. His forehead hurt like a mother ******. He did his best not to put a hand up to touch the already tender spot, lest he show weakness in the face of the enemy. Instantly though, the new Doctor was distracted by a vicious and violent attack on the part of Torgh towards one of the thugs holding a broken chair. Where Jack was expecting a torso blow from the boot of the Captain, he instead heard the snap and tearing of the human male's knee whom the Klingon had just blown out. Despite the adrenaline, Sullivan shuttered at the thought of extensive damage to the complicated joint. But his time to catch his breath was up. The woman who had attempted to stomp his skull flat was coming forward, and Sully didn't know if she intended to catch Torgh from the flank, or finish what she started with him. It didn't matter.
Alright, *****. Let's ******* dance...
Jack shuffled forward, remembering the footwork lessons he'd had hammered into him during first semester boxing as a Cadet. He was sure not to step across himself as he angled his attack in just such a way that the front left side of the woman was to his front. He fake-pumped a left jab just as she turned in decision to strike Torgh, and she flinched. Seizing the initiative and momentum, and harassing the genetic experience of generations of Irish pub brawlers, Jack landed a stunningly strong right-handed blow to the space between her first and second floating ribs. He then struck hard against her doubled over exposed neck with his left. He launched the pit of his hand, between the thumb and index finger, hard and fast against the outside, aimed at her hyperthyroid muscle. The strike connected well enough, and certainly started her immediately choking. But instead of recoiling after the hit, Jack kept pushing against her neck. At the same time he shifted his weight to his left leg, and swept under her left with his right boot, sending her direct and firmly to the floor, smacking as her back made contact. If the maneuver had been hard enough, there was a chance that several of her vertebrae were fractured. She was out of action.
Jack shot back instantly, giving himself space from the remaining attackers. Space meant time, and time would help he and Torgh. But as he did so, the rest lost their nerve, and backed away. Torgh chased them off with a final feint, before visibly calming himself. He knew the biochemical process Klingons underwent in combat, and only assumed what Torgh was doing now was an active attempt to resume control over his autonomic nerve functions. He chose to 'chill out' somewhat differently. Moving toward the bar, where miraculously his pint remained untouched, Jack then heard the Captain move to speak with the Bartender as well. As he apparently dictated terms, Sullivan drank the lions share of the stout still in the class, before slamming it down on the bar top once Torgh had made some sort of agreement with the server.
“We should finish our drinks.” Torgh said almost nonchalantly, and Jack scoffed, but then turned and motioned for his pint to be refilled.
As he waited for the service, he reached into his coat to retrieve the smokes. His face fell though, when the pack was extracted, and turned out to me much more flat and worn than it was when it went in there.
"Aww man!" Jack whined comically, attempting to extract a smoke-able cigarette from the mashed up pack. "Mother *******..."
When he was able to find one, although still rather bent, he stuck it in his mouth and light it up, retrieving his pint and moving back to the booth where Torgh was headed. And it was just then that he saw one man, still on the ground, reach up and stab the Klingon. Jack's jaw dropped, the smoke only staying in place because the moisture of the paper created a temporary sticking property. The coward had stabbed Torgh.
Did that **** just stab him in the ******* ***?
Torgh turned to face his assailant, then the barkeep over Jack's shoulder, and then Jack.
“To use a bladed weapon to draw blood changes the rules of engagement. This just went from a bar fight to a fight to the death.”
Not good....not good at all!
From what Jack had just witnessed, he had no trouble believing the Captain for a moment. As Torgh walked back past him, Sullivan tried to consider his options. For a moment, he wondered if now was a good time to call Star Fleet Security, but he hesitated. And he was glad of it too. He watched with relieved satisfaction as Torgh cursed the crippled man, spat on him, and then took his seat. Jack breathed a heavy sigh of relief, took a long pull from his cigarette, and followed Torgh. He stopped at the man who had done the stabbing, feeling no pity for him. He gave him a quarter-strength kick to the ribs before uttering his own insult.
"And that's for crushing my smokes!" Jack laughed aloud, and lowered himself to his seat, an incredulous grin spreading across his features.
His torso and arms, hips, and head now all beginning to betray their future soreness, Jack took the smoke from his lips and held it in his hand while he took a fresh sip from his new pint. Sighing in satisfaction again, he still smiled as he spoke.
"So uh sir...the Plato. I saw your crew..." Jack indicated to the PADD between them. "I was surprised to see some names, and had several questions."
He then grew much more somber looking, and concerned, furrowing his brow, but also flushing in his face. A mixture of worry and embarrassment. He reached up and released the closure to his uniform tunic near his neck, and placed his cigarette in the ashtray on the table as he reached up to the underlying cloth with both hands. He tore the lighter under-layer away, ruining his uniform, but producing a roughly triangular piece of white cloth, about 3x4x7 in dimension. He attempted to fold it over once before proffering it to Torgh.
"I get the feeling I can't get you out of here just yet sir. And I didn't prepare properly by bringing my kit, but could you at least apply pressure to the wound site?"
His face really reddened now.
"I can assist if you like. But...um. Well I, uh, figure you'd prefer to be the only one pushing against your *** sir." He chuckled nervously a little.
Alright, *****. Let's ******* dance...
Jack shuffled forward, remembering the footwork lessons he'd had hammered into him during first semester boxing as a Cadet. He was sure not to step across himself as he angled his attack in just such a way that the front left side of the woman was to his front. He fake-pumped a left jab just as she turned in decision to strike Torgh, and she flinched. Seizing the initiative and momentum, and harassing the genetic experience of generations of Irish pub brawlers, Jack landed a stunningly strong right-handed blow to the space between her first and second floating ribs. He then struck hard against her doubled over exposed neck with his left. He launched the pit of his hand, between the thumb and index finger, hard and fast against the outside, aimed at her hyperthyroid muscle. The strike connected well enough, and certainly started her immediately choking. But instead of recoiling after the hit, Jack kept pushing against her neck. At the same time he shifted his weight to his left leg, and swept under her left with his right boot, sending her direct and firmly to the floor, smacking as her back made contact. If the maneuver had been hard enough, there was a chance that several of her vertebrae were fractured. She was out of action.
Jack shot back instantly, giving himself space from the remaining attackers. Space meant time, and time would help he and Torgh. But as he did so, the rest lost their nerve, and backed away. Torgh chased them off with a final feint, before visibly calming himself. He knew the biochemical process Klingons underwent in combat, and only assumed what Torgh was doing now was an active attempt to resume control over his autonomic nerve functions. He chose to 'chill out' somewhat differently. Moving toward the bar, where miraculously his pint remained untouched, Jack then heard the Captain move to speak with the Bartender as well. As he apparently dictated terms, Sullivan drank the lions share of the stout still in the class, before slamming it down on the bar top once Torgh had made some sort of agreement with the server.
“We should finish our drinks.” Torgh said almost nonchalantly, and Jack scoffed, but then turned and motioned for his pint to be refilled.
As he waited for the service, he reached into his coat to retrieve the smokes. His face fell though, when the pack was extracted, and turned out to me much more flat and worn than it was when it went in there.
"Aww man!" Jack whined comically, attempting to extract a smoke-able cigarette from the mashed up pack. "Mother *******..."
When he was able to find one, although still rather bent, he stuck it in his mouth and light it up, retrieving his pint and moving back to the booth where Torgh was headed. And it was just then that he saw one man, still on the ground, reach up and stab the Klingon. Jack's jaw dropped, the smoke only staying in place because the moisture of the paper created a temporary sticking property. The coward had stabbed Torgh.
Did that **** just stab him in the ******* ***?
Torgh turned to face his assailant, then the barkeep over Jack's shoulder, and then Jack.
“To use a bladed weapon to draw blood changes the rules of engagement. This just went from a bar fight to a fight to the death.”
Not good....not good at all!
From what Jack had just witnessed, he had no trouble believing the Captain for a moment. As Torgh walked back past him, Sullivan tried to consider his options. For a moment, he wondered if now was a good time to call Star Fleet Security, but he hesitated. And he was glad of it too. He watched with relieved satisfaction as Torgh cursed the crippled man, spat on him, and then took his seat. Jack breathed a heavy sigh of relief, took a long pull from his cigarette, and followed Torgh. He stopped at the man who had done the stabbing, feeling no pity for him. He gave him a quarter-strength kick to the ribs before uttering his own insult.
"And that's for crushing my smokes!" Jack laughed aloud, and lowered himself to his seat, an incredulous grin spreading across his features.
His torso and arms, hips, and head now all beginning to betray their future soreness, Jack took the smoke from his lips and held it in his hand while he took a fresh sip from his new pint. Sighing in satisfaction again, he still smiled as he spoke.
"So uh sir...the Plato. I saw your crew..." Jack indicated to the PADD between them. "I was surprised to see some names, and had several questions."
He then grew much more somber looking, and concerned, furrowing his brow, but also flushing in his face. A mixture of worry and embarrassment. He reached up and released the closure to his uniform tunic near his neck, and placed his cigarette in the ashtray on the table as he reached up to the underlying cloth with both hands. He tore the lighter under-layer away, ruining his uniform, but producing a roughly triangular piece of white cloth, about 3x4x7 in dimension. He attempted to fold it over once before proffering it to Torgh.
"I get the feeling I can't get you out of here just yet sir. And I didn't prepare properly by bringing my kit, but could you at least apply pressure to the wound site?"
His face really reddened now.
"I can assist if you like. But...um. Well I, uh, figure you'd prefer to be the only one pushing against your *** sir." He chuckled nervously a little.
Edited by Mid John Sullivan, Star Date 21408.22 @ 23:08 (11:08 PM).
#177
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.23 @ 19:08 (07:08 PM)
Torgh looked at Sullivan. Why would I care if he applies pressure to my wound, regardless of where it is? It simply did not occur to Torgh that it would be interpreted as anything other than medical treatment--regardless of who was doing it.
"It is unnecessary," said Torgh. "Klingon blood coagulates quickly, and I have lost less than a liter. Klingons can lose more blood than other species."
The bartender approached. She had an older, somewhat grubby-looking, first aid kit. She held it out. Torgh took it, placed it on the table. Opened it. It was about 2/3 empty.
He turned it to Sullivan. "Use these," he said and stood up, dropped his trousers and underwear, and bent over the edge of the table, presenting his bleeding buttock.
The bartender moved off. She was quite formidable. She picked up one of the downed guys and hauled him toward what Torgh presumed was a back door. She was back to get the next one in about a minute, and did the same again. Cleaning up her bar.
When she was done she returned. "They were lousy tippers," she commented, with a grin which showed teeth that were bad even by Klingon standards. She licked at her lips somewhat seductively as she watched Sullivan work. "Can I get you boys a round--on the house?"
The place was pretty much empty now, and Torgh was suddenly uncomfortable about being bent over the table with his drawers down--because the way the bartender looked at him... He looked away.
"A warm cup of blood wine would be excellent," he replied. "But I insist that we pay for it..."
As she moved off he looked at Sullivan. "I want to get out of here... unless of course you are interested in that. In which case I will wait. But please--finish your work on my backside before she gets back..."
He nodded toward the PADD. "I updated the roster while you were busy."
== I suggest you move us on and we can close this thread so we aren't scattered too many places, now that we both know where we are going. ==
"It is unnecessary," said Torgh. "Klingon blood coagulates quickly, and I have lost less than a liter. Klingons can lose more blood than other species."
The bartender approached. She had an older, somewhat grubby-looking, first aid kit. She held it out. Torgh took it, placed it on the table. Opened it. It was about 2/3 empty.
He turned it to Sullivan. "Use these," he said and stood up, dropped his trousers and underwear, and bent over the edge of the table, presenting his bleeding buttock.
The bartender moved off. She was quite formidable. She picked up one of the downed guys and hauled him toward what Torgh presumed was a back door. She was back to get the next one in about a minute, and did the same again. Cleaning up her bar.
When she was done she returned. "They were lousy tippers," she commented, with a grin which showed teeth that were bad even by Klingon standards. She licked at her lips somewhat seductively as she watched Sullivan work. "Can I get you boys a round--on the house?"
The place was pretty much empty now, and Torgh was suddenly uncomfortable about being bent over the table with his drawers down--because the way the bartender looked at him... He looked away.
"A warm cup of blood wine would be excellent," he replied. "But I insist that we pay for it..."
As she moved off he looked at Sullivan. "I want to get out of here... unless of course you are interested in that. In which case I will wait. But please--finish your work on my backside before she gets back..."
He nodded toward the PADD. "I updated the roster while you were busy."
== I suggest you move us on and we can close this thread so we aren't scattered too many places, now that we both know where we are going.
==
#178
Guest_Ens John Sullivan_*
Guest_Ens John Sullivan_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.23 @ 22:57 (10:57 PM)
Jack gave Torgh an unimpressed look as the now calm Klingon evidently felt he was imparting new knowledge to his medical companion.
Oh gee whiz sir. I had no idea about common clotting factors...
He repressed the smart *** remark, maintaining just enough judgement not to over step his bounds with the Captain, regardless of the unorthodox circumstances they had just shared...and were going to continue to share. He looked up and smiled a thanks as another of the bar tenders offered a very worse-for-wear looking medical kit. Following Torgh's command, Jack opened the case to survey the contents. As the outside suggested, the supplies he found wanting. When Torgh stood and disrobed so matter-of-fact, Jack looked around at the nearly empty bar now, gauging reactions. But a patient was a patient.
"You know sir..." Jack said as he took a knee on the floor and set the sub-par kit beside him. He examined the wound more in detail. "This makes you my first patient as a full fledged physician..."
He chuckled as he rooted around in the box, looking for something in particular. Antiseptic gauze, which he used to clean the wound site. And then a dermal adhesive, technology centuries behind the dermal regenerator he wished he had.
"I want to get out of here... unless of course you are interested in that. In which case I will wait. But please--finish your work on my backside before she gets back..."
Jack looked at the retreating bar tender, taking a moment before he fully comprehended Torgh's meaning.
"Oh, no thanks. She's not exactly my type at the moment..."
Jack retrieved another antiseptic swab and used it to clean his own hands as best he could, lacking gloves of any sort. He then stood up, and symbolically wiped his hands off on his trouser legs as he did so.
"No need for me to attempt sutures or anything like that. I saw no evidence of anything nasty on the weapon, but you should stop by the clinic before you leave and get an antibiotic anyway. Who knows with people like them..."
He looked at the physical and humanoid debris still left by the tussle, the establishment's help cleaning it up diligently.
"And you might need a new uniform too." Jack laughed at this, and reached for his pint, delighted to see the cigarette in the ashtray hadn't burned out just yet.
"I updated the roster while you were busy." Torgh said in way of reply.
"Alright sir. But I need to warn you, at least about the Doctor you have here..." Jack trailed off as he picked up the PADD and scrolled to the minuscule medical section, and then stopped. It now listed HIM as the chief, and only doctor.
"Uh, wait a minute sir..." Jack began to protest, but cut himself off. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and retrieved the smoldering cigarette, taking a long hard hit and essentially finishing it. He then stubbed it out.
I guess it beats waiting on the Personnel ****up to sort itself out...
"In this case.." He said in recovery, offering the PADD back to the Captain. "I agree, it is time we get going. Zero-Four tomorrow we launch, and I still need to grab my bag."
And run a dermal regenerator over my forehead...
When the bartender brought two tankards of Blood Wine, Jack got the distinct feeling that his evening was going to be more indicative of his next seven weeks than he might be comfortable with. But such was life. He toasted Torgh with his drink, and did his best to drink it 'with honor'. He'd pay for the recklessness anyway, so he figured he'd go all out...
== This plot continues in the 4th Fleet Subplot Area ==
Oh gee whiz sir. I had no idea about common clotting factors...
He repressed the smart *** remark, maintaining just enough judgement not to over step his bounds with the Captain, regardless of the unorthodox circumstances they had just shared...and were going to continue to share. He looked up and smiled a thanks as another of the bar tenders offered a very worse-for-wear looking medical kit. Following Torgh's command, Jack opened the case to survey the contents. As the outside suggested, the supplies he found wanting. When Torgh stood and disrobed so matter-of-fact, Jack looked around at the nearly empty bar now, gauging reactions. But a patient was a patient.
"You know sir..." Jack said as he took a knee on the floor and set the sub-par kit beside him. He examined the wound more in detail. "This makes you my first patient as a full fledged physician..."
He chuckled as he rooted around in the box, looking for something in particular. Antiseptic gauze, which he used to clean the wound site. And then a dermal adhesive, technology centuries behind the dermal regenerator he wished he had.
"I want to get out of here... unless of course you are interested in that. In which case I will wait. But please--finish your work on my backside before she gets back..."
Jack looked at the retreating bar tender, taking a moment before he fully comprehended Torgh's meaning.
"Oh, no thanks. She's not exactly my type at the moment..."
Jack retrieved another antiseptic swab and used it to clean his own hands as best he could, lacking gloves of any sort. He then stood up, and symbolically wiped his hands off on his trouser legs as he did so.
"No need for me to attempt sutures or anything like that. I saw no evidence of anything nasty on the weapon, but you should stop by the clinic before you leave and get an antibiotic anyway. Who knows with people like them..."
He looked at the physical and humanoid debris still left by the tussle, the establishment's help cleaning it up diligently.
"And you might need a new uniform too." Jack laughed at this, and reached for his pint, delighted to see the cigarette in the ashtray hadn't burned out just yet.
"I updated the roster while you were busy." Torgh said in way of reply.
"Alright sir. But I need to warn you, at least about the Doctor you have here..." Jack trailed off as he picked up the PADD and scrolled to the minuscule medical section, and then stopped. It now listed HIM as the chief, and only doctor.
"Uh, wait a minute sir..." Jack began to protest, but cut himself off. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and retrieved the smoldering cigarette, taking a long hard hit and essentially finishing it. He then stubbed it out.
I guess it beats waiting on the Personnel ****up to sort itself out...
"In this case.." He said in recovery, offering the PADD back to the Captain. "I agree, it is time we get going. Zero-Four tomorrow we launch, and I still need to grab my bag."
And run a dermal regenerator over my forehead...
When the bartender brought two tankards of Blood Wine, Jack got the distinct feeling that his evening was going to be more indicative of his next seven weeks than he might be comfortable with. But such was life. He toasted Torgh with his drink, and did his best to drink it 'with honor'. He'd pay for the recklessness anyway, so he figured he'd go all out...
== This plot continues in the 4th Fleet Subplot Area ==
#179
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
Guest_Torgh {Grayson}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21408.23 @ 23:10 (11:10 PM)
== End time line for Torgh ==
#180
Guest_CMR Sarah Ellings {Hookton}_*
Guest_CMR Sarah Ellings {Hookton}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21410.30 @ 19:42 (07:42 PM)
== In orbit of Earth ==
== NPC’s – Numerous office staff of the Farnon Campaign. ==
The operations room of the Farnon Campaign mobile headquarters was a frantic place to work in on a quiet day.
With the Governor currently on stage at the debate, Sarah who had offered them her assistance as an office runner and general staffer assistant, was currently operating the unofficial press secretary for the evening.
“We need to make sure he keeps on message.” Said someone from across the room.
“Screen tests look good.”
“Have you seen what Gav looks like? Jeez!”
“Where’s Marcus? He’s late.”
“Not sure, he had to step out…”
“We’re on a space station…”
The sudden appearance of a fifth candidate sent the room into even more of a frenzy.
“Who the hell is Barnett? Someone find me a dossier!”
“As long as he stays on message…”
[I don’t believe that the question should be; How do you… we, intend to ensure the Fleet is never again used as a vehicle for xenocide, as you said, in the recent conflict with the Krynar Confederation. But more how can we prevent and ensure that such a conflict can never happen again.]
“Excellent.”
[Every conflict which the Federation has been involved in over the last century has at its centre been one of misunderstanding. Misunderstandings that could have been prevented.]
“What! Almost! Almost every war… Why the hell do we bother prepping him?”
[Diplomacy should be our greatest weapon. Never force. And never misunderstanding.]
“Can I quit now?”
“No.”
“Sarah, try and save this…”
“Will do.” Replied Sarah picking up a PADD and contacting the FNN reporter who was covering the event. Avery she though his name was…
As the other candidates gave their answers, the Farnon team ran their limited control and recovery plans.
When Farnon pointed out that the President and the Commander in Chief were one and the same, there were several woops of joy at the well timed dig at the newcomer, but due to a miss communication this quickly flamed up before them meaning that Sarah had to once again go after the press corps in attempt to fight the fire.
“Let’s hope he stays on message with the next one.”
“Yeah. I’m not too sure how we can make this evening much more worse…”
== To be Continued… ==
#182
Guest_Drefsab {Grayson}_*
Guest_Drefsab {Grayson}_*
-
- Guests
Posted Star Date 21411.11 @ 21:27 (09:27 PM)
== Ten kilometers southwest of Paris Texas ==
The night was cold, unseasonably, even for November. The sky was crystal clear, and the stars twinkled. It was a very remote place, and there was no one other than a few wild and pastured animals to see the slight distortion in the air, to hear the sound of the air rushing about the cloaked craft, as it settled down into a small gulley, between some trees and scrub brush.
A minute later a sliver of light spread across the landscape. A small creature scurried off away from the light. A night scavenger, unaccustomed to such sights and sounds.
A giant lizard stepped into the light and stood at the top of the ramp that had extended. It looked odd, a room inside the sliver visible, although all around it there was nothingness, except the lit room in the middle of nothing, and the ramp extending to the ground. The lizard was dressed smartly, very stylish, and he stepped down the ramp.
He’d never been to Earth, much less to Texas. He had read that it was one of the warmer parts of the planet. But if tonight was an example of warm, then he suspected the rest of the planet must be in an ice age. It had to be less than 10 degrees Celsius. To a Gorn that was virtually freezing. He felt his body wanting to go into a semi-hibernative state. He shivered slightly.
When he reached the ground he reached into his pocket, thumbed a control on a small FOB, and the ramp retracted, the doorway closed. And the location was marked on his portable scanner.
This is not what I expected. There is nothing here except… nothing.
For a few moments Drefsab was concerned he’d been duped. He didn’t trust Star Fleet Intelligence. He didn’t really trust anyone. But he had something that these people needed to see. And he had to get it to them directly—he couldn’t trust any ‘middle men’ to handle it. It was too sensitive.
And so here he was, standing in a cold, dark, gulley, in the rural hills of east Texas. Wondering what in space and time he’d signed on for. Wondering why he cared enough to come all this way.
And wondering if he had been sent on a fool’s errand.
And then he felt it. A soft tingle in the middle of his body. It was familiar, although not exactly familiar. It felt like the beginning of a transporter, but perhaps one that wasn’t tuned quite right. It was taking too long, and he felt a certain disorientation wash over him.
And then it was gone. And so was Drefsab.
A few moments later the critter that had been running about came to where Drefsab had stood. Sniffed the ground where his boots had been. And then ran off to hide. It made it seven meters before it ran, head-first, into a very solid, and very invisible, object. It was knocked a bit silly from the impact, and scurried, a bit wobblingly, off into the darkness.
#183
Guest_Drefsab {Grayson}_*
Guest_Drefsab {Grayson}_*
-
- Guests
#184
Posted Star Date 21411.21 @ 11:58 (11:58 AM)
==After resignation of Character==
==Restaurant located in the town centre of Basingstoke ==
After eating both of them decided that a sweet or pudding wasn't something which would go down nicely, mainly because they were completely full from the main meal itself.
Jess had managed to get enough Federation credits to pay for the meal, which Peter did feel slightly uneasy about, as he tight that he should have paid for it, before leaving the restaurant he remembered to pick up his bag from the corner in which he had out in upon entering.
They moved back along the streets through the town and parks returning to the path which would lead them back to the hospital and his grandmother.
==Thomas Linacre Hospital-Basingstoke-Hampshire-England, Intensive Care ward==
Arriving back at the hospital, Peter did start to wonder if anything new had happened while he was away, some sort of improvement in his gran's condition.
There is alway hope that something good has happened
Normally he would have taken the elevator to the intensive care unit, but this time he decided that the stairs would be the best option, he might not of been out of shape but his last meal made him feel big & he needed to burn off some of the calories from it. Initially Jess protested but when Peter wouldn't be dissuade, she climbed with him.
When they arrive at the door to where his grandmother was located, he noticed that there was her Doctor standing next to her looking a PADD.
"Is everything ok,Doctor" Peter asked as he entered the room.
Looking up from the PADD, the Doctor replied.
"Yes Mr Powell, everything is ok, just doing some normal checks on your gran to make sure there wasn't anything that we might have missed and at the moment there doesn't seem to be anything."
This was a good thing to hear Peter thought, as he had expected to something else had gone wrong.
Taking the seat next to his grandmother, Peter looked at her sleeping soundly.
"I'm assuming that her continuously sleeping, is her bodies way of dealing with what has happened and is also her way of trying to repair herself." Peter asked without looking at the Doc.
Out of the side of his right eye, he saw the Doctors head move to look at his patient.
"That it is, the human body is such a wonderful thing and when there is damage to it, it will do all it can to try and fix the issue and making the individual sleep is its way of transferring all it's energy to trying to sort out the issue. Don't concern yourself with worrying about her continuously drained or sleeping, it will change over time." The Doctor stated.
Peter nodded that he understood and it was one of the things which he really did understand about how medicine and medical stuff is no different to that of engineering.
==Moving the story along by 3 months==
It was the day in which his gran would be coming out of hospital to return to living at home, the house had been converted to be completely wheelchair compatible and friendly.
The whole house thing had taken sometime to do, mainly because Peter wanted to make sure that there was no way that anything could go wrong with the modifications, he had personally over seen the changes with the help of the hospital rehabilitation staff and had approved all the changes.
Arriving at the hospital he moved through the corridors which he had become accustom to over the months that he had been walking them, his grandmother had started to respond to the physical therapy and even if she still couldn't walk and needed a wheelchair, she at least had managed to learn to feed herself a little bit.
But there was still something that his gran was holding back and it hadn't mattered how much either Peter or his parents tried she wouldn't budge on what it was, so they could only guess what it was and perhaps time would tell.
They had to wait around for a few hours while before the doctors were completely satisfied and would sign the official release PADD, but finally they had gotten his gran's hospital bag packed and Peter and Jess were guiding the wheelchair down the hospital corridors and heading towards the exit.
They had arrived at the transporter hub and like normal for the area they had to wait in a queue for their turn to enter the transporter pads and it was lucky there was no steps or they would of had fun beaming his gran home.
==58 Potter Close - Basingstoke - Hampshire - England==
Peter, Jess and his gran Phyllis, arrived back at the ancestral home and as the entered thought the back gate, Peter could tell that his gran was pleased to be home.
He might have been behind her as they moved down the path, but he felt her mood change to one of calmness.
As they all arrived at the front door, the first change that could be seen was the raised path which meant that there was no longer any step to go over as you entered through the door into the house.
"Due to you not being able to walk gran" Peter said as he put her bag down next to the small dinning room table. "We've had to make some changes to the house, you no longer have any steps to climb up, you have a wet room so that you can shower easily and we have also got a antigravity lifting device so that we can get you out of your chair, when you need or would like to."
He knew that his gran didn't really care for really modern technology, but there were times when you needed it to help improve your life and this was one of them times.
"And also Jess is going to be staying with us as well to help out, as there are things which I'm not sure about and there might be things which you might not wish me to do for you." He added.
He didn't think there would be much that he couldn't do, but he wasn't going to admit that it was going to be nice to have someone to share the load of looking after someone.
==More later==
==Restaurant located in the town centre of Basingstoke ==
After eating both of them decided that a sweet or pudding wasn't something which would go down nicely, mainly because they were completely full from the main meal itself.
Jess had managed to get enough Federation credits to pay for the meal, which Peter did feel slightly uneasy about, as he tight that he should have paid for it, before leaving the restaurant he remembered to pick up his bag from the corner in which he had out in upon entering.
They moved back along the streets through the town and parks returning to the path which would lead them back to the hospital and his grandmother.
==Thomas Linacre Hospital-Basingstoke-Hampshire-England, Intensive Care ward==
Arriving back at the hospital, Peter did start to wonder if anything new had happened while he was away, some sort of improvement in his gran's condition.
There is alway hope that something good has happened
Normally he would have taken the elevator to the intensive care unit, but this time he decided that the stairs would be the best option, he might not of been out of shape but his last meal made him feel big & he needed to burn off some of the calories from it. Initially Jess protested but when Peter wouldn't be dissuade, she climbed with him.
When they arrive at the door to where his grandmother was located, he noticed that there was her Doctor standing next to her looking a PADD.
"Is everything ok,Doctor" Peter asked as he entered the room.
Looking up from the PADD, the Doctor replied.
"Yes Mr Powell, everything is ok, just doing some normal checks on your gran to make sure there wasn't anything that we might have missed and at the moment there doesn't seem to be anything."
This was a good thing to hear Peter thought, as he had expected to something else had gone wrong.
Taking the seat next to his grandmother, Peter looked at her sleeping soundly.
"I'm assuming that her continuously sleeping, is her bodies way of dealing with what has happened and is also her way of trying to repair herself." Peter asked without looking at the Doc.
Out of the side of his right eye, he saw the Doctors head move to look at his patient.
"That it is, the human body is such a wonderful thing and when there is damage to it, it will do all it can to try and fix the issue and making the individual sleep is its way of transferring all it's energy to trying to sort out the issue. Don't concern yourself with worrying about her continuously drained or sleeping, it will change over time." The Doctor stated.
Peter nodded that he understood and it was one of the things which he really did understand about how medicine and medical stuff is no different to that of engineering.
==Moving the story along by 3 months==
It was the day in which his gran would be coming out of hospital to return to living at home, the house had been converted to be completely wheelchair compatible and friendly.
The whole house thing had taken sometime to do, mainly because Peter wanted to make sure that there was no way that anything could go wrong with the modifications, he had personally over seen the changes with the help of the hospital rehabilitation staff and had approved all the changes.
Arriving at the hospital he moved through the corridors which he had become accustom to over the months that he had been walking them, his grandmother had started to respond to the physical therapy and even if she still couldn't walk and needed a wheelchair, she at least had managed to learn to feed herself a little bit.
But there was still something that his gran was holding back and it hadn't mattered how much either Peter or his parents tried she wouldn't budge on what it was, so they could only guess what it was and perhaps time would tell.
They had to wait around for a few hours while before the doctors were completely satisfied and would sign the official release PADD, but finally they had gotten his gran's hospital bag packed and Peter and Jess were guiding the wheelchair down the hospital corridors and heading towards the exit.
They had arrived at the transporter hub and like normal for the area they had to wait in a queue for their turn to enter the transporter pads and it was lucky there was no steps or they would of had fun beaming his gran home.
==58 Potter Close - Basingstoke - Hampshire - England==
Peter, Jess and his gran Phyllis, arrived back at the ancestral home and as the entered thought the back gate, Peter could tell that his gran was pleased to be home.
He might have been behind her as they moved down the path, but he felt her mood change to one of calmness.
As they all arrived at the front door, the first change that could be seen was the raised path which meant that there was no longer any step to go over as you entered through the door into the house.
"Due to you not being able to walk gran" Peter said as he put her bag down next to the small dinning room table. "We've had to make some changes to the house, you no longer have any steps to climb up, you have a wet room so that you can shower easily and we have also got a antigravity lifting device so that we can get you out of your chair, when you need or would like to."
He knew that his gran didn't really care for really modern technology, but there were times when you needed it to help improve your life and this was one of them times.
"And also Jess is going to be staying with us as well to help out, as there are things which I'm not sure about and there might be things which you might not wish me to do for you." He added.
He didn't think there would be much that he couldn't do, but he wasn't going to admit that it was going to be nice to have someone to share the load of looking after someone.
==More later==
#185
Joshua Barnett
-
- Retired Accounts
-
- 1003 posts
Member
-
- President of the United Federation of Planets
- Earth
Posted Star Date 21501.30 @ 21:54 (09:54 PM)
== Presidential retreat, near Moultonborough, New Hampshire, current Star Date ==
The air was cold, just about 0c, blustery winds, and snow falling, at the ‘cabin’ on the lake. The ‘cabin’ was 10,000 square feet, and the compound took over six acres. In the past few months it had been fortified (although almost invisibly), reinforced, and a permanent security presence stationed there.
The President-elect was living there; and it would be his home as President of the United Federation of Planets until the Palais de la Concorde could be rebuilt in Paris.
As the holocameras and reporters gathered, shivering, many speculated what this press conference would be about. There were rumors (more than rumors, but officially nothing had been confirmed) as to the new Vice President’s identity, although it was unknown if it would be announced today. Many suspected it would.
The podium area, of course was heated, protected by a level ten forcefield (which caused a very slight shimmer visually, although the holocamera algorithms removed the shimmer before transmitting so it looked normal), and raised.
The lights came up, and the doors on the back of the house opened. Joshua Barnett, President-to-be, walked across the back deck of the house, approaching the platform which had been assembled, and the podium. He stopped, looking at the gathered reporters, and a few dignitaries, and smiled.
He spoke, apparently not reading from holoprompters, as there were none visible.
“Thank you for coming out on this cold day to listen to me,” he said.
Quite subtly, security personnel were placed behind and to the sides of the platform. More were certainly at other angles as well.
“The Federation Council has confirmed that the new Vice President will be Gavoath of Tellar.”
There was a murmur through the crowd. This was one of the two candidates suspected, and the one favored by most.
“Gavoath and I have yet to meet and discuss details, however our respective teams have been in coordination to arrange our first meeting and how we will work together.
“I feel it is important for all members of the Federation, our friends and allies, and others to know that we are United not just in name, but in act. Gavoath, being of Tellar, and myself, of Earth, truly represent the friendship and core strength of the great people of the Federation. We will not lead, we will serve you all.”
He paused, his expression becoming more serious.
“I am also here to inform you that we are making progress in the investigation into the Paris attack. Star Fleet has informed me that they have been following leads, and are very close to identifying with certainty those responsible for the attack. And I vow that, we shall bring those responsible to proper, legal, Federation, justice.
“This administration is not above the laws which our people cherish, and we will act accordingly.”
“Thank you all for coming out.”
He started to step back, and a few reporters started asking questions, but Barnett brushed them away with a wave and a smile and disappeared into the house.
The reporters dispersed, and the event was ended.
#186
Vice President Gavoath
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Posted Star Date 21502.09 @ 02:09 (02:09 AM)
== Presidential retreat, near Moultonborough, New Hampshire, current Star Date ==
The President's staff received a message from the newly appointed Vice President's staff.
It stated, quite directly, that the Vice President wished to meet with the President at the earliest possible opportunity.
It was polite by Tellarite standards.
#187
Joshua Barnett
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Posted Star Date 21502.09 @ 17:16 (05:16 PM)
The meeting was arranged for the following day by the President's staff. It would be at 1000 hours, for brunch. At the Moultonborough retreat.
#188
Vice President Gavoath
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Posted Star Date 21502.17 @ 18:50 (06:50 PM)
==Presidential retreat==
At 0959 hours the Vice President's executive shuttle landed on the ground's of President Barnett's personal retreat. At 1000 hours exactly, the shuttle's hatch opened and Vice President Gavoath, flanked by two security officers, disembarked and approached the Presidential residence's main entrance.
Gav was otherwise alone, having left his staff behind at his former diplomatic office in Tokyo. During his time as the Tellarite Ambassador (or Chief Diplomat as he had referred to it for his own run at the presidency), the earthbound office had been purposefully and logically located near the Federation Council. It was the temporary office of the Vice President for now, but he intended to relocate. It's location no longer made sense to him. His role in the council had been solidified and elevated by his ascendancy to the Vice Presidency, but the new role also called for a new office. His dignity, moreover his importance, demanded no less.
Such thoughts would have been the ultimate expression of vanity for a human, but for a Tellarite, Gavoath was remarkably subdued.
In arriving alone, Gav was even attempting to show his respect for President Barnett. It would be their first formal meeting and given that Barnett had been given very little input or control over the appointment of his own Vice President, an upfront show of respect and deference was, Gav felt, the least he could offer.
As he was met at the door, Gavoath nodded at the front door staff in a show of friendly greeting.
"Vice President Gavoath to see the President." He announced.
#189
Joshua Barnett
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Posted Star Date 21502.19 @ 02:08 (02:08 AM)
A Vulcan female named T'Sai, who was the President-Elect's transition manager and acting Chief of Staff, greeted Gavoath as he arrived.
As he stepped through the door she greeted him.
"I am T'Sai," she said. "The President is waiting in his study."
She led Gavoath through a large great room, finished in pine. Everything gleamed, and was top-shelf. They went up a flight of stairs to the second level and then down along a corridor which overlooked the great room, and to a door which was open. Within was a simple wood desk, with two chairs facing it and one behind it. The whole place was finished humbly, with natural wood abounding, and in what would have been termed 'rustic' but with elegance. The windows overlooked the lake.
Barnett got out of his chair and walked around the desk, offering his right hand for a shake. He smiled, but the smile seemed less bold than those he used in public. More genuine perhaps.
"Gavoath," he said, using the veep's formal name. "It's good to finally get to meet. I trust your trip here was uneventful?"
T'Sai seemed to fade out of the office as Barnett had approached Gavoath. The two were alone, and the door clicked shut as Barnett had reached Gavoath.
"Can I offer you a drink?" he indicated a small wetbar off to the side.
#190
Vice President Gavoath
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Posted Star Date 21502.24 @ 16:25 (04:25 PM)
Gavoath nodded respectfully and shook the President's hand firmly.
"Mr. President, it is good to finally meet you as well. My journey here was tolerable."
After performing a quick visual survey of his surroundings, he shook his head, "Nothing for me, but do not let that stop you from enjoying a beverage of your own."
Perhaps later, but for now, I do not want any distractions.
Gav was doing his utmost to come across as polite by Terran standards. His years as a diplomat had helped equip him with the ability to better blend in with the natives, as it were, than was typically expected from the Tellarite species. Still, it took effort. By Tellarite standards, Barnett's welcome had been weak and insulting. Gav recognized that by Human standards however, the President-elect was being a gracious host, but the discrepancies required a short period of mental reconciliation.
Beyond that, if Gavoath seemed slightly uncomfortable, it was because of the awkward nature of what he felt it necessary to say next.
"I recognize, Mr. President, that our present circumstances are unusual, that typically you would have selected your running mate after an exhaustive vetting process, and that you would expect a certain level of familiarity with your elected partner at this time. I say this to acknowledge that I recognize that the circumstances which led to the unique election cycle we just completed, and which led to the Council's selection of me as your Vice President, were less under your control than would normally be the case. I look forward to working with you, however, and I hope the complicated sequence of events that has brought us together will not produce any friction between us."
It was, in its way, the most gracious statement Barnett had likely ever heard uttered by a Tellarite. It had not been easy for Gav to say, let alone to present in such a matter, but he had decided it a necessary ice-breaker, if there was to be any hope of a successful collaboration between them.
And I have no desire to be on the outside looking in on this administration.
#191
Joshua Barnett
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Posted Star Date 21502.24 @ 20:41 (08:41 PM)
Joshua Barnett was not a diplomat, but he was versed in the ways of diplomacy. And he could tell that what Gavoath had said had been calculated, but with what he believed were good intentions. The wording had been careful, and likely had been practiced many times before its utterance.
Tellarites were not known to be gracious, or to be particularly polite by human standards.
So Joshua smiled. Nodded.
“I think we’ll work fine together, Gavoath,” he said, still sticking to the man’s formal name, “as long as we get a few things cleared up now.”
He motioned around. “We are in private. When we are in private I expect you to be direct, and to tell me what you think, how you feel. I expect you to tell me if you think I’m making a wrong decision. When we are in private. In public we must stand united; but in private we can disagree.”
He nodded. “I will admit that, were I making the choice, you likely would not have been my first choice. But I’m able to work with you, as long as you can respect that I have final decisions except in those areas reserved to you by law.”
Barnett smiled. “One more thing. Call me Joshua, when we’re in private. I hate formality.”
He moved to his small bar and poured himself a glass of amber liquid, with two cubes of ice. Turned, sat down in his chair and drained 1/3 of the glass. “So, Mister Vice President. I’ve shown you mine. Tell me what you think of this fine mess we’ve both been elected to.”
#192
Guest_Cdr Kyle DeWitt_*
Guest_Cdr Kyle DeWitt_*
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Posted Star Date 21503.02 @ 01:31 (01:31 AM)
== San Francisco, CA ==
0800 hours gave Lieutenant Commander Kyle DeWitt a generous amount of butterflies flying around in his stomach. While he didn't regret his transfer request, it was quickly becoming a reality. However, he wasn't entirely confident it would be finalized due to the black mark that had been left on his service record since serving on the Pegasus.
Not that I could ever blame the other side of the coin. If I were looking for new officers and saw something similar, I don't know if I would be completely able to look over the negative mark. It's still hard as hell to be denied advancement even though I've got the skill for it.
Kyle's mind then slowly began to shift back towards the Intrepid, his last assignment in which he served as the Strategic Operations Director, and Jordan. He knew they would still be going out and exploring space, despite the fact he was most likely going to remain on Earth. However, if the posting at Star Fleet Tactical Command end up falling through a crack, Kyle was prepared to focus on getting back out into space, even if it was as a standard tactical officer.
[Commander DeWitt, your presence is required at Starfleet Tactical Command at 0900 tomorrow morning. Regards, Captain Mackenzie Braggins, Acting Director.]
While he didn't know the Captain personally, Kyle knew that she was in fact the wife of Rear Admiral Paul Braggins, former captain of the late-Ticonderoga. He'd served on the Fearless-class vessel for only a short time and hadn't interacted with it's captain much. He didn't run into the Admiral until he'd tried to prevent Azernal from running off once Bajor returned. He probably didn't do much to impress Braggins then.
It was the stupidest decision I could've ever made. To try and put things in the past away. I should've just let Azernal scurry off and go AWOL. It would've saved me so much worry in the long run. But no, I tried to do the right thing and looked where that got me. One day I hope to see him rotting in a cell. I don't have that luxury right now so I'll table that for now.
Taking a bite of toast, Kyle stole a glance at his terminal's chronometer. He would eventually need to head towards Tactical Command and get the meeting over with. He had to know a decision, one way or another. If it was anything that bothered him, it was waiting for someone to decide his career.
>> Star Fleet Command, San Francisco, USA >>
#193
Vice President Gavoath
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Posted Star Date 21503.02 @ 18:14 (06:14 PM)
==Presidential retreat==
The Vice President was quiet for an almost uncomfortably long time. Barnett's approach was surprisingly direct, which was something the Tellarite very much appreciated.
Perhaps we will make a good team.
"Your candor is refreshing... Joshua. Directness is something we Tellarites value. You may address me as Gav when we are in private, I share your distaste for formality, it wastes time. I commit myself to provide you always with my own honest assessment of all matters and I will respect your request for public unity. Our discussions remain between us, the public gains nothing from... what is the human expression? 'Seeing how the sausage is made.'"
As Barnett imbibed, Gav took a nearby seat. It did not make sense to him for only one of them to be standing.
Still, despite his seated position, Gav's posture remained almost comically stiff.
"While I agree with your assessment that there is every reason to believe we can work together, perhaps even making a good 'team,' I will admit that I felt strongly the Federation was in need of a non-Terran President. Tellar is a founding member of this great Federation, yet after the Krynar occupation, parts of my world are almost a backwater. It is important that we remind the people of the Federation that we are here for all of them. Prenn spoke the words, yet, despite being Trill, his policies were no better than Beckett's, which were not good for those of us not of Earth. There is rebuilding to be done, many of my people have been wary of Star Fleet since the loss of our diplomatic delegation aboard USS Gettysburg some years ago. Efforts must be made to rebuild this trust, for all worlds. The Federation is nothing without the military and scientific might of Star Fleet, however, for our members to again trust those of us who lead the Federation, they must also learn to again trust in Star Fleet. We cannot be seen as a beacon for what it is good and right in the galaxy if the arrival of our vessels causes fear in our own people. I believe we must fully embrace Star Fleet now, show that we are one, empower them to spread our policies, but be ever mindful to ensure all are clear that it is we who lead the Federation, not the military."
#194
Joshua Barnett
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Posted Star Date 21503.02 @ 23:21 (11:21 PM)
Joshua nodded as Gav spoke. And then he waited almost a full minute afterward before responding.
"I agree," he said. "Neither of us are military men, and other than Prenn that makes us unique in recent history of leadership. I think our different perspectives due to our origins and races, should enhance our ability to be effective and good leaders. I look forward to working with you."
"As for the rebuilding efforts, Tellar is a primary core world of the Federation--a founding member. I think we need to make sure that we treat it as such. Not that we will slight ANY of the worlds affected; but Tellar and our core worlds... they need extra attention. And prot--"
A chime went off on Barnett's desk, and he picked up a communications device. A moment later a holographic image appeared, of his Chief of Staff.
[Mister President, I'm sorry to interrupt.]
You wouldn't be if I knew that just picking this thing up would answer it. Barnett shook his head in annoyance and half shrugged at Gav.
"What is it?" he asked, perhaps a bit brusquely.
[Sir, we have an unexpected state visit. Star Base Alpha has just informed us that Chancellor Gorram is in-system and wishes to meet with you and convey his congratulations on your victory.]
Gorram? Of the Klingon Empire? Unannounced? Barnett showed some discomfort at this.
"When will he be at Earth?"
[A few hours, sir. We've already started preparations to receive him. Star Base Delta is clearing half of a level for him and his delegation, and preparing quarters for you and a banquet hall and--]
"Cancel it," said Barnett.
[Sir?]
"If the Chancellor wants to drop in, then he can meet with me here. We'll host him and his--does he even have a wife, a mate, whatever? Tell him we can host a half-dozen of his delegation including him, here at my home in New Hampshire. Say, 1900 hours? And tell him Vice President Gavoath will also be present."
Barnett gave a half nod to Gav as he said this last. I hope you can clear your schedule for the Klingon Chancellor.
[Very well, sir. We'll begin arrangements, and prepare a statement for the press.]
Barnett closed the channel and turned back to Gav.
"I'd be very pleased if you could stick around, Gav. We have plenty of room for you and a few others to spend the night. I'm sure it will prove to be most... entertaining."
The chime went off again, this time Barnett didn't touch the device.
#195
Vice President Gavoath
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Posted Star Date 21503.03 @ 02:54 (02:54 AM)
Gav nodded, "I am at your disposal, Joshua."
Using his stubby fingers, the Vice President tapped a control on the wrist device he wore under his overcoat.
"I have cleared my schedule and graciously accept your offer for lodging. I do not require the presence of staff."
His staff was in a state of flux anyway as he transitioned to his new office and, even had that not been the case, Gavoath had always prized self-reliance.
"While we are still in private, tell me what you desire to be our official stance with the Klingons. If you wish, I will endeavor to do my best to hold my tongue at the insult of this sudden and uninvited arrival at our capital."
#196
Joshua Barnett
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Posted Star Date 21503.03 @ 22:01 (10:01 PM)
"While we are still in private, tell me what you desire to be our official stance with the Klingons. If you wish, I will endeavor to do my best to hold my tongue at the insult of this sudden and uninvited arrival at our capital."
Barnett sighed, finished his drink, and placed the glass a bit firmly on his desk.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t really expecting my first state visit yet, not before I took office, and certainly not from the Klingon Chancellor.” He stood, walked to the windows, looked out at the frozen lake.
“While I can be diplomatic, I’m not a diplomat, Gav. I changed the plans to invite them here because I feel it gives me, personally, a home court advantage. It puts them on my turf, and in my environment. I’m not sure with Klingons—or almost anyone—if that’s the right call. But I’ve made it.”
His desk device chimed again. He turned and glared at it. If his eyes were phasers it would be ash.
“I’m not even officially in office yet—another twelve days—and yet here I am… entertaining the leader of what may be the most powerful non-Federation force in two quadrants. Heck after the Krynar kicked us around, they may be even more than us.”
He sat back down. “Have you read the intelligence briefs?” Shaking his head. “Two things we need to remember… the Klingons have, from the beginning of the Krynar invasion, been keeping something from us. It was always like they knew something about the Krynar that we didn’t and wouldn’t tell us. But nobody seems to have a grip on what that is.”
“Secondly,” he looked at Gav for several seconds before continuing. “I got this just this morning from Admiral Varak.”
He handed a PADD across. It highlighted the fact that it was believed that elements (classified as rogue elements but still) of Klingon Intelligence may have been connected to the Paris attacks. It recommended an official reckoning with the Klingons over this.
“Star Fleet has already beefed up patrols near the border, and so have the Klingons. There are no missions planned as yet into Klingon space, but… with Chancellor Gorram here… can you imagine the mess this could become?”
Chiming device again. That was three times he ignored it. He looked up just as his door opened and in walked his chief of staff.
“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But your communicator appears to not be working.”
“It works fine. I’m just not answering.”
She paused at that. Nodded. “I’m sorry sir, but there is more news…”
What now? He nodded.
“The Ferengi Grand Nagus wishes to speak with you, sir. He says it is of utmost importance to both the Ferengi Alliance and the Federation that an agreement be worked out immediately.”
“Regarding what? And does he know that I’m not even President yet?”
“I explained to him that you are not to be installed until the 15th but he insisted he speak to you today. He’s waiting for you now.”
“And what is this agreement?”
“He wouldn’t say, sir. Said it was a matter to be discussed between heads of state only.”
Barnett seemed to deflate in his chair. “Tell him I’ll contact him tomorrow.”
“But sir, he’s waiting.”
“And I’m meeting with Vice President Gavoath, and I have to entertain the Klingon Chancellor in a few hours. They are here. Nagus—what’s his name anyway?—whoever he is—he can wait.”
Now she seemed outright panicked.
“But… he is here, Mister President. He was en route for your inauguration and when he saw the Chancellor’s flagship entering the system he… well he’s here, sir.”
“Here, on Earth?” asked Barnett, suspiciously.
“Here, at the estate…”
Barnett turned to Gav. “Isn’t this just grand?” Back to the Chief. “What’s his name, anyway?”
“Grand Nagus Zarm, has been the Nagus since Star Date 21206.01, Mister President. I will have his bio sent to your PADD.”
Barnett nodded. “It looks like we’ll need more seats at the table tonight. Tell Zarm that I’ll be with him shortly.”
The Chief exited, and Barnett, looking a decade older in the past five minutes, turned back to Gav.
“Why did either of us want this job?”
#197
Guest_Grand Nagus Zarm_*
Guest_Grand Nagus Zarm_*
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Posted Star Date 21503.05 @ 00:55 (12:55 AM)
Zarm had been on his way to Star Base Delta for the Sector 228 regional conference when he’d received notice that the Klingons had sent a delegation to Earth to meet with President-elect Barnett. Although 228 was quite a long way from Ferenginar, he had still intended on attending. When that many planetary and regional governments got together there was always a great chance for profit!
Zarm had planned on heading to Earth on his way home, for a nice visit with the President, after he was installed. It would be an official state visit, with all of the trappings and formalities. And it would have been properly announced and planned.
But now, Gorram had thrown all of that out the airlock. By rushing to Earth he had disrupted the entire quadrant! At least that was how Zarm felt.
He’d ordered the Dawn of Luster, his flagship, to immediately change course and intercept Earth before the Klingons could get there! Of course blasting into the Sol system at full warp was not advised, so he’d informed Star Fleet of his arrival with plenty of notice.
He’d still, apparently, surprised Barnett and his staff. Because when he shuttled down to the Presidential retreat they had apparently been expecting someone else!
Now he was in a lobby in the large house, admiring some of the fine woodwork and wondering if such a style would be marketable back on Ferenginar. He didn’t think so. It was too… plain.
“Nagus Zarm,” said the President’s chief of staff, returning to the room. “The President is in conference but he will meet with you very soon. Meanwhile may we offer you refreshments?”
Zarm shook his head. “No,” he said simply. He then sat on a very soft couch.
I wonder how long he’ll make me wait…
#198
Guest_Chancellor Gorram {Grayson}_*
Guest_Chancellor Gorram {Grayson}_*
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Posted Star Date 21503.05 @ 01:07 (01:07 AM)
Red tape. The Federation seemed to have it down to a science. Even when you were the leader of the most powerful empire in the galaxy there were delays.
Gorram’s battle group had been escorted to orbit near Star Base Alpha, which is to say near Earth. They were well within transporter range, but apparently beaming to the President’s home was forbidden, so they had to be shuttled down. A shuttle was allocated aboard the flagship, and then submitted to be inspected by Star Fleet before being allowed to land. Even then they were accompanied by an ‘honor guard’ from the Federation.
They all were now, finally, en route. To arrive thirty minutes before dinner.
Dinner.
I wonder what they will serve us. Hopefully it will not be something burnt and bland…
“My lord,” said Gorram’s assistant. He thrust a PADD before the Chancellor.
Gorram read it and frowned.
Zarm? Here? Now? He beat me to them! It was an affront. If this had occurred within the Empire, he would kill Zarm. But this was not in the Empire.
Gorram grunted. “Very well. We will deal with Zarm.”
The shuttle was ready to leave, and Gorram and his entourage boarded, and they launched a few moments later.
#199
Vice President Gavoath
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Posted Star Date 21503.06 @ 16:07 (04:07 PM)
Is he attempting to be humorous?
Gav could not tell, so he replied in kind.
"If you are unhappy with your election and wish to resign, I would be... honored to succeed you."
If Gav had found it difficult to determine Barnett's intentions, the President-elect would find it absolutely impossible to read Gavoath's statement. In the cultural context of a Tellarite, the statement could have meant anything from an attempt at humor, to a challenge, or perhaps even a tactless statement of support through the re-statement of recognition that it was Barnett who, indeed, had been elected to the job. Even an expert in Tellarite custom and communication styles would likely have a hard time making a solid determination as Gav's expression gave no outward cue.
"This is, perhaps, what you might call a 'blessing in disguise,' Joshua. These leaders have come to see us and surely we are stronger here on Earth than we would be making social calls to their respective centers of power. I concur therefore with your invitation to bring them here. This is doubly so if the Intelligence brief is accurate and elements of the Klingon Empire were behind Paris. Perhaps we will find out tonight, if we cannot goad Gorram into any inadvertent revelations, perhaps Zarm will unintentionally. Klingons hate Ferengi and maybe we can use that to our advantage. We might not be able to learn anything about Paris, but I'd still be willing to settle for additional information on their seeming knowledge of the Krynar. What the Klingons know could be a matter of Federation Security."
#200
Joshua Barnett
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Posted Star Date 21503.07 @ 00:33 (12:33 AM)
"I agree," said Barnett. "I guess we have to play the hand as it's dealt, and perhaps we can turn this to our strength. I'm just not thrilled with hosting it here, at my home. This is supposed to be my private retreat, not the temporary Palais..."
He shrugged. "Very well, let's go see the Nagus, and I'm sure the Chancellor will be along shortly as well."
== I think we have established what's going on here, and can end the scene if you are ok with that. ==
