Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
Solitude is found in the Past Writings of the Soul Transmigration Senshi..

After Life Cafe
when you're new dead you come here to stay at the after life cafe...
So Young Soul what you in for?
Beep [checking comm the Grey Dressed lady turned to drop a tip on the bar].. Sorry I'll get back to you later sweet cakes.. [poof]
whats with her?
Grim Reaping?
Tisket tasket a toll with a bridge.. sorry my call..Cheers..
Great there goes me lunch time profit..crikey..
Dark wood carved office elder male at desk looking at Butterflies pinned to an under glass cork board.Ring- Hello inner earth living service..
Yes yes.. Trouble Midlands. right I'll contact the approp parties.. oh no I'm too old for field work.. es thanks good day to you sir and thanks.
Standing to dust his red vest the man pulled a book from the study self and smiled. yes. they should do quite nicely. yes..Pulling cane from Ivory trimmed canister grabbing hat from boar's tusk rack .. Ah what do they call that place now..pulling old map and one from 1730 ..hum..I'll need a new map on this..
Leaving the Hall to the front..snapping fingers. Yes.. Lets go for a walk My trusty hound. down the lane.. My oh word that tree has grown ..Good on you my oak..
painting trunk. my what odd dress women showing ankles in public..spinning cane nodding hat.. [sure beats passing notes and ordering food in]
Should go out more often.. yes young man i see you and no i keep the watch..
of course you do..not worth much is it?
not to you..
nice dog..
yes..well good day then..
creepy was not by him i just..creepy..burr
man looks up to awning signs and vehicle traffic.. checking watch..hum .Trusty find Map store..
Good Day the lady said as he entered the store..
Good Day young lady..a new ,map please.
of what sir?
Oh.. Yes Manners Sir Bertran of Easthall.
Teh old place out of towne?
Old? ITs my new house less drafty then a keep.
[nice watch shiny]
A map.
Of what sir?
Well Britannia Germania..North of Hadrian's Wall.. to Daneland and down to the Scaresan holdings near tunis..
Oh a map of Europe..14 pound 6 pence..Smiling back . looking down to see dog along her leg.
He doesn't bite I hope.
only witches..Miss.
Right bagging map..Holding up thick Victorian Sovereign. Sir, this is too much i cant open the safe.
Pulling vest pouch out.. Well hum.. spilling on the counter..I trust you know what a proper payment is then? Trusty here can tell.
[poor old codger..] Hum these are old coins..why spend collectors for a map.. Queen Victoria..hum.. See these are new ones trade ya?
Ah..nice doggie.. hey watch the collar studs..are you blind?
No..Miss Bridgette.Looking at name tag.. [how quaint]
what cheep skins and embossments no fringe.. ah Michelin must be a good map scribe.. Cheers...[odd tartan skirt and black boots she had hey Trusty]
Good bye..arf.
I should have never agreed to lights and that blasted phone. No trusty you may not chase pixie ..were on a job.
refolding map..and walking into to motor stop..A Good Proprietor A local chart..
chart Sir?
A Map of streets for this place..
Wat you a Reds Booter in Geordie land?
English has changed..Lets fix this communications difficulty.Tapping cane on ground.. Ah an Honest mind..
So this game of football is still around.. I understand.... Magpies are for druids I'm not one of those. But Newcastle-upon the-tyne.. I enjoy very much.
Druids sir? You mean Celtic Unites?
Why bother..hand to forehead. honest but dense.. Trusty heal.. I see they still use trains..Good lets get a ticket.. Strawberry Fields Station Centre Gateshead... China towne near the mall.. hum. Lunch time.. Striding down the lane.. "Hai Chi Oolong Hot... General Tso and Rice...and an ox tail for the dog.
No dog..real pork..
No feed my dog or he starts helping himself.. Racing and posing hand Flicker from ring.
Oh of course master...
[eyeing crowd for notables] Policeman,exec,sportsman,yeoman..not any old souls trusty..bother]
Re-folding map..Sipping tea..This is quite good. but this hand over chicken..What do you feed these pour birds now now.. Alchemy..fills the belly..but bland.
Sir you must try to cause it..Wrong order sorry the Generals Chicken has the Carmel sauce..
Kitchen now.. Standing up.. I shall enlighten you.. Looking at rack of ingredients.. tossing in waste never not a Read the labels not fresh after..hum nice print.. Ah its the roaches..Im not the health ministry.. I read write mandarin ... You mean well but are ignorante on a couple points. Flipping hatchet to Duck.. Here just like Ming Dynasty..MArco Polo..Khan style.. see remember.. Oh i see your Hong Kong nice island.. flipping chopper over. That's how i want my meal Clear?
Yes Sir?
Bertain Sir Bertain of the Knights of St John.. and dont skimp on the spices.of Antioch..
What? [confused chefs assistant]
This tin here..tapping cane on rack Grind it by hand in a mortar w pestle not that whirly contraption.of a coffee mill..or what ever..
Sir this is most unusual you are a customer they do not come in kitchen..
Lower then? Bend to my will and I will invest here in your place and protect your undocumented staff.. I believe that's the term for it?
Your Chinese is very aristocratic..Are you and old colonial Government?
No..An traveler.. that expect excellence.. and rewards it.. Holding up coin.
Chefs table for the Gentleman..hurry..
yes sir..right this way. and a bone for dog not wok..
Best not he doesn't like hot baths. chuckle. tapping cane.
-----------------------------------Midlands Birmingham--------------------------------------------------------------
Poof.. ah with map can teleport...need to know the locations proper current name... Trusty skeek..
Walking with take out bag and cane...down to a pub..I smell blood pudding and ale..hum
Finding trusty pointing at two men in a booth..
Bertain this is a odd place to find you one said.. long time.. don't turn your back to those lads.
What them a thieves guild?
No they like to watch mens bottoms..noting pastel polo shirted lad winking.
They smell like women so clean...neat.harmless..naval tattooings.. rings oh its a pirate pub?
No sir Bertain..whispering in ear..
Trusty guard mode..
You ask us to meet at a certain grid on olde map...and this was build on olde shrine..

I was told by a current government type that a friend had troubles brewing in keeping a life intact.. He began.
well we have attachments torrent people...explain.
Military training area.. some vortex of energies..I dont like it.. go straight to overlay here.. i had need of a new map for it.. check it out and report to me but not this place..another..pulling out take out.. The foods pass me the MEad.
First to drink then to war! Ayee..

< Bridge to the Captain Signal Contact you may want to come up here>

Computer End Program and Que the Hunting with Broken Nose Cheyenne

<Compliying indexing Son of Black Crane Beep>
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 92 The Captain's Chair
06-06-2011, 01:57 PM
Alejandro Machiaveli had always preformed well under pressure. His crew knew him as a man with great endurance. Alejandro spend most of his time on the Bridge, eating meals in the Ready Room, or even in the Captain's Chair sometimes. He was always prepared for a conflict. Since the war began, they could arise at any time, in any place. With the number of ambushes Alejandro had fought off giving commands from that chair, he was starting to feel as if his ship had the luck of the Enterprise. Yet, after all was said and done, Alejandro always returned to the big seat after each mission, when most Admirals of his senority would visit the Mess.

Sure, Alejandro brought up a hologame from time to time on the nearby console, but every five seconds, his head darts back to the main viewscreen, and to a private sensor readout on his chair. He was ready for anything to happen. Newer crewmembers always though he had some sort of paranoia problem. He'd been reported to the ship's counselor so many times, that now it was really just tea and a short talk about how the ship was holding up in the Ready Room.

True, when he though of it, Alejandro DID seem like a paranoid person to the average human. But then again, Alejandro - Starfleet Vice Admiral, and the descendant of a Boy Scouts Eagle Scout - was no ordinary human. He chuckles to himself as a Bird of Prey de-cloaks in front of the ship. Alejandro lines up the torpedo shot himsself , and replicates a cup of tea as the Klingon ship bursts into flames.
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 93
06-06-2011, 02:33 PM
Title: Spirits

Now, that, my friend, was a story. I’d have never guessed that a Romulan was even physiologically capable of such a thing. Nor that they had so strong a reaction to the music of Tom Jones.

I consider myself enlightened. And you can consider your glass full. There’s a particular whiskey I’d like you to try, if you’re feeling adventurous.

Now, my turn, is it? Well, let me see…

I’d just set foot on the first ship I was to command, the USS Ardent. No, I won’t tell you how that came about. It’s a story, to be sure, but I feel as if the moment’s passed to tell it. Perhaps it’ll come around again.

So there I was. I’d just parted company with my new first officer, a lovely Andorian colleen—or let's say an honorary colleen—named Vala. I’ve never seen someone so enthusiastic about, well, everything, and have yet to detect any sense of that barely subdued menace that hangs about so many of her people.

Now, the Ardent was not just any ship. She was an old Constitution class. When the old man—Admiral Quinn, I mean to say—told me I was to captain her, I wondered aloud if he wouldn’t rather put me into an even more venerable NX class. He didn’t reply, but you can imagine the twinge of nervousness I felt when I saw one of the latter—even if it was only a replica, I was to discover—at the Utopia Planitia shipyards a few months later.

To be honest, the first time I saw the Ardent, I was thrilled that she was mine. There’s something I admire about those 23rd-century aesthetics that abandoned all hint of streamlining or style and yet captured some bit of elegance all the same.

Inside, she’d been completely modernized through all manner of technological wizardry, though the basic architecture remained the same. In particular, while they were surrounded by up-to-date systems, the network of Jeffries tubes themselves was unchanged.

Now, I firmly believe that every true engineer’s heart flutters a little at the thought of crawling through those old-style Jeffries tubes. The ones on modern ships, well, they’re luxurious by comparison. You could serve a formal dinner in one. The classic tubes, not so. It was an accomplishment to even get through them, and you emerged with all the bruises and scrapes to convince even the most skeptical that you’d just risked life and limb to save the ship, even if you were there to take a nap.

So this was my bright idea: I’d make my way to the bridge via the tubes. I could only imagine the look on the bridge crew’s face when I emerged from the floor.

And this was what happened: I got myself totally, completely, and irreversibly lost.

Just at the point that I imagined a search party setting out to find me—and felt that my transfer to an NX, possibly as the ship’s cook, was all but assured—I dropped down into a large room, about as far away from the bridge as I could get.

It was long, nearly cavernous, and filled with round metal tanks. I was later to learn, looking over the Ardent’s deck plans, that I had found my way to the deuterium storage area at the very bottom of the ship. There wasn’t another soul to be seen and it was eerily quiet. You could barely hear the hum of the engines that was so apparent everywhere else.

While I was in command of the Ardent, I visited that room many times.

It was a kind of escape, I suppose. But why I should have been drawn to that particular spot, I don’t completely know.

Maybe it was because I sometimes imagined that, over time, all the souls that were lost aboard the Ardent—and maybe a piece of the soul of everyone that truly loved her and had to leave her—drifted down, like the leaves in fall, to that low place. And that, if I were there long enough, maybe they would have something to say to me.

Maybe it was because it reminded me of my childhood. My parents worked at the Guinness Institute for Advanced Study in Dublin—you might have heard of it, formed after World War III, which didn’t touch Ireland so much as some other places. Though invited, I didn’t feel quite at home in those hallowed halls. Instead, I spent my time at St. James’s Gate across the street, and sitting among those huge tanks brought back some of those pleasant, long-lost days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because I found that obscure, out of the way spot the best place to set up my small, makeshift brewery. My heart belongs to stout, of course, but you haven’t fully lived until you’ve tried a hefeweizen made with quadrotriticale.

Which leads me to a suggestion for the next round...
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 94
06-07-2011, 06:39 AM
<>The Ties That Bind<>

"Commander Selet, you have the bridge."

With those words, Vice Admiral Wilem "Lone Star" Pulam'an strode off the bridge to the turbolift and headed out to unwind and gather his thoughts. While it was a tad unconventional leaving his 2nd-in-command in charge durning a hunt, especially one as high-risk as the Orions they were chasing, Wilem had no qualms or worries about it at all. "Crew deck," he spoke as the doors closed and he was whisked off. Selet was one of three people on his ship that had been with him since his first day in Starfleet; they all knew each other's rythyms, habits, and limitations. There would be no surprise the Vulcan couldn't handle. He'd hate losing her to her own command someday (one she'd earned many times over), but she's passed up multiple opportunities so far, claming she was making the "logical choice" by staying with him; who was he to argue?

His ship. Even now, as the car came to a stop and the doors opened, he smiled at the thought. While the Kennedy-C often suffered from the "Step-Child" syndrome to the Enterprise-E and other, more famous ships, it was his. He ran his fingers along the walls and thought at all the favors he'd had to cash in just to get the -B comissioned, Pa'lgat take them building a -C. Admiral Quinn must have thought him nuts to want to pass up more prestigious ships for the Kennedy, and the fourth at that. Or maybe that smile was from someone who knew what was in a name, and how much power they held.

As Wilem sat at his traditional table in the lounge, a cheap scorant felt in the corner, he thought about Clev's offer to teach him poker. The Bolian commented about how the scorant felt was close enough to a poker table to pull double duty. The rest of his thoughts, however, drifted to his home planet and exile for questioning the Matriarchal Council. He'd been on thin ice with his clan before the incident with Dath Hal'mat that led to his trial, but the speech he had made (broadcast to everyone in the ancestral lands, no less) was the final wound. Everyone thought an exile and severance (one of the most severe punishments handed down in recent memory) was getting off easy; Pulam'an was glad to be given the chance to make his name elsewhere. He'd discovered from the recently-exiled C'soyas clanner that most of his people still didn't have any use for Starfleet. Good. This is my clan now. Those fel'onts can trot off for all I care.

The impromptu white noise provided by his new clanners settled him into a half-meditative state as he shuffled through some of the famous and infamous images of Starfleet ships and captains on his personal holoprojector. Part of him noticed the lack of stars streaking by the windows, signaling the ship had fallen out of warp. The rest of his mind, however, was focused on what was in front of him. These were part of his new history now, even the notorious Captain Markham of the original Kennedy, as well as the legendary James T. Kirk and Jean-Luc Picard. This was where he finally fit into the yona game; striving to be the next lesson taught in Academy classrooms.

His thoughts were interrupted with a sharp chirp of is communicator. "Captain, we have the raider flight on long-range sensors," Selet said over the speaker. Lone Star was up and headed to the bridge before the commander had even started speaking. He was grinning a predatory grin this time as he confidently strode towards the bridge, letting his nictating membranes slide over his eyes.

"Acknowledged, Commander. On my way now."
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 95
06-07-2011, 02:26 PM
The Greenhouse, Escaping the freedom of space;

I am an admiral of the fleet, an ambassador of the federation and captain of a Galaxy class starship. There are few on my ship who are not bound by my command, but on my ship there is a garden, a horticultural lab. That is where Singh lives, my pet monkey I saved from a zoo fire on Sol 3 in my second year at the academy. He is the only being, on my side, who still defies me at every turn.

There is something about the artificial sky with it's purple-blue glow and the solid white of the mock star providing the variable atmospheric needs of the plants that almost lets me forget that I am hundreds of light years from where I once called home without the luxury of real gravity or natural light or all the other benefits of living on a planet. When the horticultural lab. is in spring the Oq'ill fire angels are in full bloom, they are a flowering fruit from my home world and the smell takes my soul home far surer than any wormhole. I defy any captain to visit their horticultural lab. without taking time to smell the flowers, or nibble the harvest. Or as I often do start brewing some real wine.

For a time I went to the holodeck for my nature fix, but the fact that it always smell the same, always feel the same and look the same wore on me, and after a few visits I deleted the program and told my ships computer to transport me into space if I ever tried to remake it. No, the real thing, even grown in an artificial environment, is the only way to experience a true escape from the void.

The disappointment of a poor harvest is short lived when the plans for next 'season' take over, I remember a routine patrol in the Rolor nebula and while scanning some anomalous readings stood bolt upright and said “Amino-nitrates and Xindi mist grubs!” Not my favourite command decision but it did help me realise to be nothing but the captain on the bridge, and that giving extra shifts is a good way to keep my crew in check and the drills reduced the time between torpedo launches by 7.2%.

Yes, the the bad seasons just offer a new escape, it's the good seasons ruined by attacks or by Singh the capuchin devil, my people believe saving a life makes you responsible for it, if that is true the afterlife may not be a good one for me. Due to the low importance of the horticultural lab. it often has power taken from it's systems resulting in a disruption of the growth cycle and some... interesting flavours, shapes and colours. These bad crops are a nightmare for me but my chef loves them and some of her trial and error fruit salads are not bad at all.

But now I must leave the distraction of my organic fortress, I've been hailed by a Vulcan ambassador seeking passage to P'jem, should be a routine trip but I prefer to meet my guests.
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 96 A Place of Solace...
06-07-2011, 05:56 PM
A Place of Solace

----There were many areas of the U.S.S. Enigma that Captain Tenebrae enjoyed spending his time, but none more so than his Ready Room. All around him sat memories of missions past and friends long lost. After finishing reading his last Department Head report of the day he sank into his chair and glanced at those memories that surrounded him. One memento that sat on his desk caught his eye. It was a small metallic sphere. He picked it up turning it in his hands, smiling thoughtfully, he began reminiscing. His mind took him back to an afternoon in late 2398...


----First Officer of the Star Cruiser Class vessel the Enigma-F at that time, Tenebrae patiently stood in his Captain's Ready Room. Across the table from him, Captain Gabriel Devereaux sat in his chair deeply studying various reports on his PADD. Upon noticing the Commander now standing before him, the Captain smiled and motioned for Tenebrae to sit opposite him.
----"You wanted to see me Sir?"
----"Enough of this 'Sir' nonsense Tenebrae, I've told you before. Call me Gabe."
----"Okay," Tenebrae shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "you wanted to see me...Gabe?"
----"Yes. You have a lot of potential Tenebrae and I wanted you to be the first to know, I've recommended you for your first command. Your handling of the Franklin Research Station incident was impressive and Starfleet Command seems to agree with me. Once we return to Earth Spacedock next month you are to be promoted and reassigned to your own ship."
----Tenebrae, looking shocked, stared for a few seconds before continuing, "I don't know what to say Gabe. Thank you, but are you sure I'm ready for command?"
----"Tenebrae, to be honest I'd be more concerned if you weren't hesitant at the prospect of commanding your own ship, but no, I have no doubts that you are ready for the next step in your career."
----"Do you have any advice for me?"
----"I'm glad you asked." Gabe walked over to the replicator and ordered two Firenut Coffees. He returned to sit at the desk offering Tenebrae the other cup. "Careful now, it's Firenut. It has quite the kick to it. Now, where were we? Ahh yes, advice. I've noticed you tend to distance yourself from others on a personal level. You have to be comfortable around your crew so they feel comfortable around you." Gabe sipped his Coffee gingerly, motioning for Tenebrae to do the same.
----"I hadn't noticed, I suppose I could join in the Poker games I keep getting invited to and I was considering taking up Lieutenant Commander Kurga's request to teach me Mok'bara."
----"Excellent ideas. Also you may have noticed that I spend a lot of time in this room." Tenebrae nodded in agreement, his eyes watering from his first sip of Firenut Coffee. Gabe continued, trying not to laugh, "You must always remember Tenebrae that your ready room is your Sanctum, your place of solace. While you must always be ready to jump into battle at a moment’s notice, you must always take the time to remember the past and what brought you to this point. I, for one, keep mementos and trophies from my past to keep those memories fresh." Captain Deveraux walked over to a shelf and picked up a small metal sphere. "This, for instance, is a gift I received from a Wadi Ambassador during a diplomatic mission. It's called an Ocapi, he said it would bring me luck and long life and I have to say it's working so far." He walked further along the same wall, bypassing many other items and trinkets, most of which Tenebrae noted would make the Smithsonian proud to have. Gabe stopped underneath a painting of an Excelsior Class vessel and Tenebrae watched as his Captain reached up and slowly ran his fingers over the canvass.
----"I've noticed that painting before, which ship is she?" Tenebrae enquired.
----"That was the U.S.S. Vanguard. She was the first ship I was given command of. She was very old when I took command but she always looked after us. Unfortunately, we lost her during a battle with Jem'Hadar. We managed to take most of the enemy ships out but one managed to get through our defences. It crashed into us heavily damaging Engineering. It was too much for the Vanguard to take and her Warp Core began breaching so we abandoned ship and waited for rescue. Half of the escape pods were vaporised when the Core finally breached. Ever since then I've used the memory of those deaths to spur me on, to become a better Captain and also to become a better friend."
----"I never knew that." Tenebrae took a large drink of his Firenut Coffee, his eyes widening and watering even more than the first time. This time Gabe couldn't hold back and burst out laughing.
----"Thanks I needed that. Here, take this," Gabe threw the Ocapi to Tenebrae, "Consider this your first addition to your own ready room collection."
----"Gabe I can't take this," Tenebrae finished the last of his Firenut Coffee, shuddering at the sensation once more, "you're right this does have a kick, I could get used to it."
----"You will. I mean that about the Coffee and the gift. It's mine to give away and now it's yours."
----"Thank you Gabe, I'm honoured."
----There was a beep from the communication system followed by a soft female voice, "Captain Devereaux and Commander Tenebrae to the Bridge, we're receiving a distress call from the S.S. Fiji."
Gabe looked over to Tenebrae and grinned, "see what I meant by 'a moment's notice’?" He turned his attention to the disembodied voice, "Helm set an intercept course."
----"Aye Captain," the voice replied.


----Tenebrae drifted back to reality. That day was the best and worst of his career so far. During that rescue mission, Captain Devereaux was killed and the Enigma-F was lost, valiantly attempting to save the passenger vessel, S.S. Fiji. However, acting Captain Tenebrae managed to save two-thirds of the crew. He transported them, along with himself and members of the Fiji's crew they had rescued, to a Class M moon, orbiting a nearby Gas Giant, before what was left of the disabled and heavily damaged ship fell into the atmosphere. They were rescued shortly afterwards by a Vulcan Science Vessel. He would never forget the advice of his friend Gabe, and kept the Ocapi on his desk as constant reminder. Gabe had been right, this place was a haven and every moment spent there was to be treasured. There was a beep from the communication system followed by First Officer Vol's voice, "Captain Tenebrae to the Bridge."
----"On my way Commander," he replied while standing up. Tenebrae finished his third Firenut Coffee of the day, straightened his jacket and placed the Ocapi back onto it's display stand. After a short thoughtful look around his Ready Room he strode confidently onto the bridge, "okay, what have you got for me today?"
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 97 Janaran Falls (part 1)
06-09-2011, 10:24 AM
(I managed to exceed the 11k character limit, so I broke it up into two posts.)

Janaran Falls

Starbase 10 Promenade

Dr. Jolie Bindo tapped her combadge as she turned to head back to the Infirmary. “This is Dr. Bindo--I was paged?”

“Aye, Doctor,” came the voice of SCPO Gage, one of the Infirmary medics. “The USS Solferino is docking. Dr. Michaels said there's a patient coming in stasis, and he wants an allergist to see her stat.”

“On my way right now.” It was not often that the Chief Medical Officer of Starbase 10 called for any of his staff on an emergency basis. Jolie strode briskly across the Promenade and caught a glimpse of the Solferino. The doctor put her hand to her mouth as her breath caught for a moment at the destruction. One nacelle was gone. The other two nacelles and part of the saucer had long, jagged chunks ripped out, leaving black gashes that strafed across the ship. She was the survivor of a fight with a Borg cube—just barely. Shuttles raced around it, extinguishing the last of the plasma fires that still burned. Jolie grabbed an elevator and rode up the 22 decks to the Infirmary section, entering the Emergency ward. It was filled with injured Solferino personnel and medical staff rushing around with instruments and supplies to treat them. Jolie could hear biobed alarms sounding all over the place, orders called out for medications and treatments, patients moaning. She had to concentrate on keeping her mental shields up—the Betazoid doctor could feel agonizing pain from so many of the survivors.

Dr. Michaels was in the eye of the hurricane of activity, looking at numerous monitors and triaging patients. He caught sight of the auburn-haired doctor. “Dr. Bindo—good. I've got an interesting case for you--a pregnant zhen in stasis suffering from anaphylaxis. A pipe burst near her on the Solferino, and she's apparently severely allergic to the chemical. I'm worried that's going to send her into pre-term labor—if she survives. I need your allergy expertise on this one.”

“I'll get that allergic reaction knocked down fast. How far along is she?”

“Her mates say she's at 85 days of 108.”

Jolie shook her head, frowning. “Definitely too early. I'll need OB on this.”

The dark-haired human nodded. “Dr. Okanta's finishing up another delivery, and then she'll join you. I had the zhen moved up to OB in case you need to do an emergency delivery.”

“I'll try to keep that from happening,” Jolie said.

“I've got Neonatology on call if you need. I'll let you get to work.” Dr. Michaels waved a dismissal, and she strode off to OB.

Ensign Relawwin handed Dr. Bindo a PADD the moment she stepped through the door to the Andorian's room. “Here's Nala's medical file, Dr. Bindo. The stasis unit is already hooked up to the biobed.”

“Thanks, Relawwin,” she said, eyes already on the data streaming on the screen. Jolie studied the medical records and scans of Nala while waiting for the Bolian chief of obstetrics, Dr. Okanta, to finish with the delivery. Prior to being put in stasis, Nala's heart rate had been extremely irregular from the anaphylaxis she suffered from chemical exposure. Jolie noticed her oxygen levels were well below normal, and the quadruplets were trying to separate from the pouch artery and vein they were attached to by their pouch-fangs.

Dr. Yarla Okanta walked into the room, smiling. “It's a girl! Mama did well.” The light blue Bolian looked at the biobed monitors and patted the stasis chamber. “Now, Nala, let's see if we can keep you from becoming a mama too soon.” She joined Jolie in looking over all the medical information.

Jolie frowned. “She's not in labor, Yarla, but the babies were trying to separate from the pouch vessels. I should be able to stop the anaphylaxis, but she might code.”

Yarla rubbed a hand down her chin in thought. “Not good. They're too weak at this age to crawl out of the pouch on their own.” She looked over at her OB nurse. “Relawwian, get the surgery unit set up. If Nala codes or we can't keep the little ones attached, we're going to do an emergency section.”

“Aye, Doctor,” he replied. He nodded to a couple techs who quickly set up the instrument unit. “Her mates are in the waiting room, by the way.”

“As soon as I can get free, I'll go talk to them.”

Jolie looked at the chart once more, triple-checking all the details. “I'm going to give her 250 cc of metrazene to stabilize the arrhythmia, along with 50 cc of pulmozene. I'm going to knock the anaphylaxis down with 75 cc of diphenidryl and a bolus of 280 cc of cortisone.”

Yarla nodded. “The cortisone will help the babies' lungs develop in case they don't stay attached. Let's add 25cc of asinolyathin—since it calms muscle spasms, it'll keep her pouch from trying to contract. It's much easier to keep the labor from starting than stop it once it starts.”

Relawwin had the hypos drawn up and prepared before Jolie even had to ask. “Surgery unit is ready if you need it, Dr. Okanta.” He turned the oxygen on the osmotic infuser up to 100%.

Jolie called out, “Bringing Nala out of stasis: 3, 2, 1”

On '1', the force field dropped. The Andorian spasmed, then opened her eyes as Jolie, Yarla, and Relawwin applied all the hyposprays in tandem. Her antennae hung over to the side in fatigue, but quivered as she regained her senses. The biobed alarms sounded at her irregular heart rate and low oxygen levels.

Jolie said, “Nala, you're on Starbase 10. I'm Dr. Bindo, the allergist. Dr. Okanta is the chief of OB here. You're having a bad allergic reaction, we're getting that under control now so it doesn't harm the babies.”

Nala gasped, her massive chest muscles fighting to take in as much air as she could. She shivered. “Mates?”

“They're all OK. They're in the waiting room.”

The Andorian nodded, and the rigid look on her pale face relaxed ever so slightly. “And the babies?”

Dr. Okanta looked at her medical tricorder and all the biobed readings. “The babies are healthy, they're just trying to detach. We're working on stopping that.”

Nala nodded. She breathed heavily still, but noticeably easier as the medications took full effect. Her heart rate became more regular. “I'm starving.”

Dr. Okanta asked, “We'll get you something to eat as soon as it's safe. You're not feeling any pain or contractions, are you?”

Nala nodded her head 'no' as she rubbed her gravid belly, then patted it gently.

Jolie watched the improving bioindicators on the screen above the bed. “How's the breathing now, Nala?”

“Better...itching's starting to go away.”

“That's a very good sign.” Jolie watched for several more minutes as Nala's breathing eased and the biobed indicators continued to climb. When she was satisfied that the immediate crisis was averted, she said to Relawwin. “Give her 75 cc diphenadryl every 4 hours by hypo and infuse 50cc of cortisone over a half hour every 8 hours. If the dyspnea or itching come back, call me stat.”

“Aye, Doctor.”

Dr. Okanta's lips were pressed in a thin line. “The babies should be trying to re-attach, but they're not.”

“It doesn't look like they're still trying to detach, at least,” Jolie said.

“At least there's that. Now we play the waiting game. Relawwin, her mates can come to see her now.”

Jolie put a hand on the Andorian's arm. “I'll stop by in awhile and see how you're doing, Nala, but you should be past the worst of the anaphylaxis reaction.” She looked back over to Dr. Okanta. “My regular shift starts in a couple hours. I'll check in then.”
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 98 Janaran Falls (part 2)
06-09-2011, 10:25 AM
Dr. Bindo left the Infirmary for her quarters. Thoughts about Nala swirled around, like the Sapphire-chinned hummerbirds that would hover but never alight on the tropical flowers surrounding her childhood home on Betazed. She stopped, turned, and instead made her way through the busy hallways to the holodeck level. One of the rooms was free. She stepped through and touched the wall panel. “Computer: load program Bindo-Janaran Falls-3.” The blank walls dissolved as her favorite program loaded. Mountains appeared in the distance. Flowers bloomed around her feet. A stream started to bubble next to her, meandering off from the massive, multilevel cascade that was the famous Betazoid Janaran Falls. Soft sun-rays lit pink clouds and refracted off the water in tiny jewel tones. Jolie sat down on the grass, breathing in the mountain air. She closed her eyes and listened to the birds flitting through the trees and the insects buzzing as they gathered nectar from the blossoms. She let the sounds and scents of her haven help clear her mind and let her meditate so that the hovering thoughts would finally land.

She had been sitting for some time when she heard the soft chime of the holodeck door. She sighed. The thoughts refused to settle. “Come,” she said.

A tall, dark blue Andorian walked in. “I'm Kovandor th'Rhendilev,” he said. He pointed at the ring on his left antenna. “Nala's mate.”

Jolie stood instantly, concern furrowing her brow. “Is she OK?”

“She's improving rapidly. I came to thank you for saving her life. We thought she was lost to us.” He stopped for a moment as his voice caught. “The babies still aren't re-attaching and we might lose them, but I don't know what we would have done without Nala. It's been hard enough watching her work herself nearly to death the last few days to keep the ship from disintegrating around us. She hardly slept, hardly ate, and then the pipe burst....”

The whirling hummerbird finally landed. “By the Four Goddesses, that's it!”

The Andorian tilted his antennas at Jolie in confusion.

“Kovandor, when's the last time Nala ate a good meal?”

“Not for the last 3 days at least. I noticed she was becoming a bit gray the day the pipe broke. Why?”

“She told us she's starving. The babies must be hungry, too. That's why they're trying to detach.” She tapped her combadge as she started to walk to the holodeck door. “Dr. Bindo to pharmacy. Prepare an Andorian amino acid infusion with 15% dextramene for Nala and send it up to OB stat. Dr. Bindo to Dr. Okanta.”

“Okanta here,” the chief of obstetrics replied.

“Nala hasn't eaten well in at least 3 days—we need to check her protein stores. I have pharmacy prepping an amino acid infusion for her. I think the babies are hungry. I'll be right there.”

Jolie and Kovandor hurried back to Nala's bay. The pale blue zhen was lying on her side on the biobed, antennas twitching slightly with anxiety. Kovandor went to her side, taking one of her hands and smiling down at her. Jolie was pleased to notice her breathing was no longer labored, and the biobed indicators were approaching the normal range.

Dr. Okanta scanned Nala's belly with the medical tricorder and then said to Dr. Bindo, “We've got the infuser at 100%. I think your theory about the babies' hunger causing detachment makes sense, Jolie.” The Bolian looked at the scan results. “It looks like the two babies that were trying to detach are re-attaching to the pouch vessels, and the two still attached are making deeper attachments now. Nala definitely needed the protein, too.” The obstetrician smiled as she looked up at the Andorian quad. “It looks like the babies are improving. I can't guarantee they won't try to detach again, but even a few more days in pouch will make all the difference.”

Nala sighed in relief, and her antennas quit twitching. Kovandor grabbed the two doctors in a great bear hug, and brushed his antennas on top of their heads in an Andorian kiss.

Jolie grinned at his enthusiasm. “Well, I have to go do rounds. I'll come back later.”

“Doctors,” Nala said, voice quiet. “I want you to come to their Birth ceremony.”

Jolie and Yarla looked at each other in stunned silence at this great honor, then back at the quad. Four sets of antennas curved towards them in anticipation.

“Of course,” Dr. Bindo replied. The smile lit her face the rest of the day.
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 99 Ihnoc's Haven
06-10-2011, 01:20 AM
Ihnoc produces a smile that broadens only for a moment. He then leans forward, pouring a new glass of pear cider into his glass. Whether the alcohol is synthahol or not isn't immediately obvious; certainly his body language remains as stoic as it was. When done pouring, he leans back, takes a sip and then chuckles momentarily.

“Somewhere I go to feel at home? A haven you say? That's a good one,” Ihnoc starts, “I'll have to think about that.” Ihnoc looks into the glass for a moment, swills the contents then takes another sip. “The observation lounge. That's where I'm in my element, aside from the bridge of course. So many times I've sat around that table with a people I've never met, trying to explain who we are and what we can achieve together.”

“It's not always like that. We planned several counter-attacks there too. The Borg, the Romulans, the Undine. They all met some sort of demise thanks to the cushy chairs in that room. It's got this irony about it; a strange duality of purpose that reflects the ship and where the Federation itself is now. One day, I'll be inviting the various species from System Alpha Sigma 12 for First Contact, the next sharing blood wine with a forward thinking Klingon General and rounding out the week with a bitter argument with our new Borg drone.”

“That room has tables and chairs, drinks and conversation but it isn't Ten Forward. It isn't a place I go to relax or to chat with my crew. The lounge is the place I go to get things done, be they meeting new people or planning defence against an old people. It's where things happen even if sometimes I'm the only person there.”
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 100 Full of Stars
06-11-2011, 08:41 PM
Title: Full of Stars

It was a peaceful night. The Admiral had left a few hours earlier to “relax” and left his first officer in charge. Commander Oleina Junud was dutifully reviewing the logs. She reclined on the couch in the ready room, reading her PADD. As a Betazoid she was acutely aware of the many admiring looks from the male contingent of the crew and she preferred the comparative silence of the ready room to the crowded thoughts of the bridge. The door quietly chimed and she granted access to a nervous Andorian male ensign. Idly she wondered if Orion women had this much trouble with adoring males.

“Ma’am. I am sorry to disturb you but I am receiving a priority one transmission for the Admiral.”

The ensign shifts uncomfortably. Mentally, she sighs, there is something bothering him apart from the transmission. She smiles to put the young Andorian at ease. “I will take it for him, Ensign. Please patch it through.”

“I am sorry, Commander Junud. It is marked for the Admiral’s eyes only. I am not authorised to patch it through to the First Officer or to any other member of the command staff.” Again his weight shifts and his eyes avoid hers.

“Well then, you best get the Admiral on the Comm.”

“Ahhh… that’s the problem Ma’am. He isn’t answering his Comm. The computer says his comm-badge is in his quarters. I ran a biometric scan to locate him and…”

Here it comes, she thought.

“And?” She phrased it delicately, sweetly even. She knew where this was going even if the young man before her didn’t.

“And… the computer says he is not on the ship. I... I…. uhhh… I can’t locate the Admiral Ma’am.”

There was fear in the young Ensign’s eyes. He was afraid for the Admiral. He was afraid for her and he was afraid for himself over what he perceived to be his failure.

“It will be alright, Ensign Kor. You have only just joined the crew and you are not familiar with Admiral Sheppard’s idiosyncrasies. He does this on a semi-regular basis. Don’t fret. It’s not a test. He just wants some quiet time now and then. Since it is a priority one transmission, I will go get him.”

“Ma’am, if I may ask, where is Admiral Sheppard? All shuttlecraft are accounted for. Even though we are stationary in deep space I checked and there has been no transporters on or off the Relentless.”

“If you wish, you may think of this part of tonight’s events as a test. The Admiral greatly enjoys his time alone. He gets so little of it. Come back and see me when you think you have worked out for yourself where the Admiral has gone. I will be back shortly. In the meantime, please awaken Commander Dyesane Gonulkla and advise her that she is in command.”

Command Oleina Junud turned on heel and started to leave. Unexpectedly she paused, turned and handed the stunned ensign her comm-badge. “Please keep this safe until I return.” She was determined not to give the Ensign any short cuts by tracing her comm-badge.

Leaving the stunned ensign in her wake she left the bridge. As she swept through the corridors, the crew melted aside from her glowering visage. She long blonde hair flew wildly from her head as her long legs swiftly strode down the corridor. She reached out with her mind, “This isn’t funny, Markus. I was enjoying the quiet. Where are you?” There was no reply. Wherever the crafty devil was, he was clearly shielding his thoughts. That being said, there were limits to where he could be and at times he was very predictable. She headed to the Fabrication Workshop.

Arriving in short order, Oleina approached Commander Owdg-or. The tall stick insect of an alien acknowledged her. Oleina had noted when she arrived that the Admiral’s micro-hopper was still on-board so that limited his possible movements. “What did he take this time Owdg-or?”

The alien regarded Oleina without emotion. “What did who take?”

Oleina composed herself. She brushed the errant hair from her face and adjusted her tunic noting with annoyance that once again it had become unfastened towards the neck. She was used to playing this game. It inevitably led to the same place: the Admiral was somewhere outside. And no matter how you approached it “outside” was a big place. She could save herself a lot of time if she had an idea of where to look. She tried a different tack.

“Was it a quick trip?”

Owdg-or looked her up and down. Oleina could almost hear the alien’s mind scanning her form, running calculations, measuring her and mapping out fabrication “opportunities”.

“No,” Owdg-or said simply, “He left several packages for you. You may change in there.” With that Owdg-or gestured towards an impressively stacked array of boxes and crates. They were arranged quite deliberately. There were also clear hazard warnings and signage. These were apparently designed to discourage casual exploration. Within the arrangement there were alcoves and little nooks and crannies – all hidden from prying eyes. Oleina had to admit that the Admiral was getting better and better are sneaking off.

Shortly after stepping into the labyrinth she found the packages. One usual package and one not. The smaller package was delicately wrapped. Curiously she opened it and her eyes widened. “You have got to be kidding me”. Now at least she understood Owdg-or’s gaze. The alien had been checking measurements.

A few minutes later Oleina was finishing the seals with the usual item: a custom EVA suit. Owdg-or arrived to lead her through the maze to the very well hidden maintenance hatch. Oleina turned to Owdg-or as the door was closing, “He went to a lot of effort this time, didn’t he?”

This was met with a nod and then Owdg-or gestured for Oleina to seal her helmet along with the hatch. The tall alien then turned her attentions to the various environmental controls. The air rapidly withdrew and the outer hatch slide aside to reveal the depth of space. Reaching out, Oleina carefully tethered herself to the outer hull. Around her the stars shone in a myriad of colours.

The hull of the Relentless provided her some gravity and gave a sense of “down”. She paused to compose her thoughts. Port or starboard? Fore or aft? After a few moments of thought Oleina narrowed it down. Where ever he was, the Admiral would have avoided being seen through the windows – the last thing the crew want to see is their Captain and Admiral wandering past on the outside of the hull. That left two possible paths: one quite long and the other not far. The “quick trip” question earlier was code for “did he travel light?” and Owdg-or said that the Admiral did not travel light. With that in mind Oleina set course for the nearer of the two possible destinations.

As she crested the rise of the hull she saw it: a survival bubble carefully and solidly anchored to the hull with multiple tether points. She quickly moved over to its surface. As she approached, she noted that it was of a non-standard design. It had exceptionally large viewing ports and a small airlock. There was a figure inside.

With practised ease she entered the cramped airlock. As she removed the EVA suit she noted its twin carefully hung on her left. With a gentle hiss the inner door opened. Nervously smoothing her clothes, she self-consciously entered.

“Well, hello there. I was wondering when you would arrive?” That was her greeting, along with a laconic smile. Admiral Markus Sheppard was reclined in a casual suit upon a small rug. Next to him was a wicker basket, some glasses and containers of food.

“Markus…” Her planned chastisement died in her throat. “Are they Uttaberry crêpes?”

“Good nose you have there.. pretty too. That looks very nice on you by the way.”

Looking down before she could stop herself, Oleina again admired the new dress that was left for her next to the EVA suit. She had to admit Owdg-or was one of the best artisans they had ever encountered and the dress Oleina now wore was of breathtaking beauty.

“You know this can’t go on forever Markus. It breaks too many regulations to list. When Starfleet finds out that we are together…”

“Firstly,” he gently cut across her protests, “it is if they find out. Second, Starfleet have permitted couples to serve on vessels for over a century.”

She felt she had to try again, “But I do not recall any serving as Captain and First Officer.”

Markus gently led her to sit on the rug. “I went to a lot of effort to set this up and I will need to break it down again in a few hours before we warp out. Let’s just enjoy this temporary little haven while it lasts.”

“Yes, about that. You have a priority one message waiting and I realise you went to a lot of trouble but it won’t wait”

He poured the wine, “I know. I sent it. How else was I going to lure you out here?”

Now he was just being clever. Oleina tried one last valiant effort. “Dyesane and the others will suspect….” Her protest drained away as it was met with a sly smile, “… unless they were in on it from the start… Dammit, Markus! Fine. You win.”

He reached out to her face. “Don’t be mad. These moments are few. Let me enjoy my two most favourite things in the universe: being with the stars and out of all of them being with the one star that shines brightest of all.” He lifted her chin and eyes to the view port.

She took in the full majesty of the view. “My god. The universe. It is full of stars.”

And for a while it was peaceful.
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