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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: That's... unique.


Who'da thunked it?

By the way, Kangaroo Tochi is up to bat.

Posted on 2016-11-01 at 10:42:04.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Lunch?


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 12:49





Three minutes isn't a long time in most cases. In theory, time is but a dimension through which all things are manipulated and Asovil finds herself in conflict as to whether she would extend the plane or shorten it. On one hand, the pending arrival of the ship's charming XO couldn't happen fast enough. Then again, the other hand begged for more time to ponder the events on board the Peregrine since her arrival.


Chief Crane's behavior and pending Captain's Mast, the Captain's irritated nature at having his command staff dismantled, and now PO Rogers serious accident. Having barely received the report on Roger's condition, the Andorian department head was now more concerned with what he was up to that had resulted in such catastrophe. Those chemicals have no practical use together, no reason to mix them for any of the assignments she can recall, and furthermore, Rogers' record showed him proficient enough with his duties that this shouldn't have happened. Knowing that this incident means she will be involved in further investigations, the lieutenant junior grade takes a deep breath and slowly releases it all the while eyeing the streaking lines of the space beyond without even so much as her normal curiosity.


Starting at the light tough on her shoulder, Asovil turns abruptly in her seat and looks up at Tochi's smiling face as he continues past her to take a seat.


"Good afternoon, Asovil," he smiles, his fingers regretfully abandoning the contact as he skirts the table and takes the seat opposite her, "My apologies, again, for being late. We've not kept you waiting long, I hope."


"That would depend on which dimension we're theorizing within," the scientist responds coyly as she returns his smile. "In this one, no. Not long at all.


"How has your morning been?"

Posted on 2016-11-01 at 10:40:07.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Moving forward...


Don't forget to check your character sheets for skills, weapons, gear, cyberware, etc. to help you in your planning. I didn't press this before because, well, I was kinda a jerk. But, you could have saved some dough on that taser purchase had you just read over your sheets.

Looking for a concise plan to overcome the traffic giving Blossom and possibly Fixer time to get you all down into the manhole. Remember these key points:

1. There's going to be moderate traffic on that road at this time of night.

2. There are still street urchins, tenement occupants, etc. that could possibly see you.

3. You don't know what kind of security you're going to need to overcome to get through the manhole into the sewers.

4. You don't know what you'll encounter in the sewers.

------------------------------------

Tann, evidence left at the scene is beginning to be processed. Think of the CSI shows and the evidence they are able to uncover given time; cops in the CyberPunk world have way better technology and scanning devices that can recreate scenes, analyze data like trajectory, number of rounds fired, etc. so while your Persuasion/Fast Talk might have worked initially, the longer you're in custody, the more likely the truth is to be revealed.

Posted on 2016-10-31 at 10:12:23.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: Cops are Catching On | Need to Know About Sewer Access


Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:20 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)


"Hey," Riggs says without looking up from his device. "Mr. Story. What'd this fellow look like who was airlifted by the AV?"


"Not much I can tell you. He seemed tall, maybe five foot ten to six feet, was wearing a nice suit, maybe a Si-Fuyen or something close. Was a good dancer, though he was kinda clueless that he was pissing off those boosters. He had dark brown hair, or maybe it was just dark, the hair looked recently dyed. Really all I got before the fireworks started."


Officer Riggs enters the information into his handheld and then studies the screen a moment longer. "That was a Trauma Team AV, wasn't it Murtaugh?"


"Sure was," the older cop answers in a distracted tone.


"Anything more you can give me on the victim, Mr. Story?" Riggs looks up from his agent and raises his bushy eyebrows at the wounded solo.


Pausing as if to think on everything, Casino replies, "No. Not really. What is it your looking for from me, Riggs? Who was that guy? Someone important, maybe wanted?"


Before Riggs or his partner could respond an auto orderly appears. Casino hates the things—always had—ever since he'd watched that old classic film about the killer robot titled, Terminator, or something. They'd made a number of follow-up films and had remastered the original into a VR experience as well. But, Casino, like essentially the rest of the world, was all too familiar with the concept of Cyberpsychosis and those who replaced too much meat with metal turning into their own versions of the Terminator.


"What's the injury?" a three foot tall vacuum-cleaner with a holographic round head displaying a smiley face on a round, yellow ball rolls up in front of the three men.


"Gunshot wound to the arm," Riggs explains.


"Would you like something for the pain?" the face turns into a wide-eyed expression of question complete with raised eyebrows.


Not wanting to let the two cops question him further and possibly cause him to slip up, he considers the risks of getting a pain shot. On the one hand, getting some morphine would be an excuse to act all drowsy and non-responsive enough for them to leave him alone. However, getting the shot, depending on the amount of pain killer used, was also dangerous as he could very well actually become drowsy or get hit by a painkiller/truth drug mix and screw up his storyline. The big solo had to admit that without his pain editor, the arm f-ing hurt and he was no longer as young or as tough as he once was, but he could be tough once as he ever was.


Sighing, having made a difficult choice, Casino looks at the robotic orderly through pain-filled eyes. "No thanks. I can‘t afford it. Unless this one is on the city police?"


Riggs gives the leather-clad solo a sidelong glance, "Something of a comedian? Murtaugh, we've a comedian here."


"I heard."


"Tell ya what," Officer Riggs shifts so that he's squared to the injured gunman. "Give me the name of the geek that off'd those boosters and we can talk about some pain meds. You scratch my back, I scratch yours."


"Remember the training, Riggs," Murtaugh mumbles, his eyes still on the television screen. "Human resources don't want us touching no one inappropriately. Lawsuits and all that."


"I've not touched a soul yet, partner, Riggs responds lightly. Then, to Casino, "What'dya say, Amigo? Got a name for me? You see," he holds up his agent so that Casino can catch a brief view of the contents on the screen. Data streaming across the device looks to be some sort of incident report, but Riggs drops the agent back to his lap before the solo can read too much. "The uni's on the scene are documenting a rather large number of casing on the scene. Preliminary reports indicate that there's between—" he glances back to his agent before smiling and returning his attention to the bleeding solo. "—five and seven shooters."


"Five to seven?" Murtaugh wonders without breaking away from his entertainment. "Wasn't there three meatbags in the car?"


"Yup." Riggs nods. "Three. That leaves—" he counts on his fingers for emphasis. "Between two and five potential additional players. This just isn't adding up. I think that maybe Mr. Story is telling us a story, Murtaugh. What'dya think?"


"Why would he do that, Riggs?" the older cop asks blandly. "He don't got no reason to lie to us."


"No, of course not. ‘Cause that'd be accessory to murder, and that'd mean some serious penitentiary time. So, there'd be no reason to lie, would there, Mr. Story?"




-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Maggie's Grill | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:28 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Within Maggie's Grill, Ghlahn, Blossom, Echo, and Bloodbank have been nursing their drinks for approximately twenty-minutes by the time Vegas and Fixer arrive.


"Where's your partner?" Blossom pokes the ice in her glass with her index finger and watches it bob up and down in the brown liquid Julieta had refilled moments earlier.


"We ran into a bit of a problem outside the Rat Pack," the Chairman look-alike fills the group in. "Casino got himself shot up pretty bad. He stayed behind to let the cops patch him up, while using his 'Casino Charm' to throw them off our scent while we proceed with the task we signed up for.


"Nice to see you too Doll."


"Chill," the wardriver replies. "You're not at all concerned about the integrity of our run, are you?"


"Well Doll," continued the dapper solo, "no need to worry your pretty little head about my concerns.


"We did manage to meet Starlight and get the hardware that Casino ordered. Fixer has all Casino's heavy duty firepower. I have the Taser. Starlight managed to get herself shot all to pieces, but she was airlifted out by her posse before the cops arrived to take Casino in for questioning. She will be wanting a report soon."


"Is he going to join us later, then? And Starlight—have you heard anything about her condition since you left her?" Echo asks, wondering how bad "shot up pretty bad" and "shot all to pieces" really was.


Blossom rolls the sucker to the other side of her mouth with her tongue and stares at the group's designated leader for a moment before saying, "Seeing how the gig's health affects all of us, I think worrying about one of the team being picked up by cops and our benefactor being ‘shot all to pieces' is more than just your concerns, Choomba."


"Time to focus on the task at hand," Vegas responds to Blossom. "Starlight is expecting an update and you can rest assured that she is pulling strings to get the job done and get a big payday from Santa for finding the boy."


"All right," Bloodbank speaks up and leans forward over his drink after glancing about to make sure no one was within non-enhanced hearing range, circumventing any further possible contention. "Here's the skinny,"


He proceeds to explain the setting of the Bartholomew School, the tenements nearby, the security as they could see it, and the only plan they'd come up with so far. When he finishes, he leans back and raises his eyebrows. "Any ideas?"


"Trail may get too cold by Monday," states the dapper solo, "and no telling where the kid is stashed. Santa is probably getting more fidgety by the hour. No telling who else has been employed to find the kid. I for one have been through too much tonight to let some other Choombas cut in on our action!" He looks each of the men in the eye, before continuing his one-sided conversation. "I want to hear what the Ladies have to say."


Vegas turns his attention to Blossom and Echo, foregoing any foreplay of flirtation. "Okay," he asks without his usual charm, "what course of action makes sense to you dolls?"


"The only thoughts I had was posing as students, which may not work because it's the weekend." Echo responds. "I asked Blossom to check for any activities the school might be having today, like a game or some junk, which might make it easier to get in. Another thought I just had is what about the sewer system or some other underground maint tunnels?"


She leans back and takes a sip of her cola.


"That's all I've got, choomba. You have any bright ideas?"


"Private schools," Blossom audibly pops the sucker from her mouth and points it towards the pretty nomad. "They focus more on academics than sports. There's a swim meet being held in the Central Valley Integrate, but that's it. Nothin' for nothin' on campus.


"I also pulled up a map from the Dark on the sewers in this part of the Integrate," the netrunner twirls her candy about in the air like a wand, "magical-like. There's a central access tunnel that runs under the southeast corner. Looks like there could be a manhole if the data is still right. Don't know what kind of security."


The tiny platinum blonde Asian places her agent on the table and activates the holoprojector at the top, bringing up a 3-dimensional map that hovers approximately ten centimeters over the devices in a ball of transparent tunnels and the bottoms of wireframed buildings twenty centimeters in diameter.


"That's about three blocks back the way we just came," she points to a position on the ball that shows what appears to be street access to the tunnels. "Middle of the street, pretty out in the open, but it'd be our closest way down. See here?" she traces a line down the tunnels and then waves the ball into motion moving it along the correct path until reaching the portion of the map she wants. A quick move results in the map stopping and she once again uses her lollipop to point out the next street level access point. "That's the one that opens up in the compound."


"What kind of security do you think is down there?" Bloodbank queries. "And traffic is still heavy enough from what I saw that it begs the question, how do we get down in the first place?"


The Dapper Solo scratches his head before replying, "Far as I can tell, we need to make like Alice and go down the Rabbit Hole! I do not see any other way and I can still hear Starlight barking orders while her boys patched her up and airlifted her out of harm's way. We need a diversion. You dolls got any magic tricks to complement the firepower that Fixer is carrying?"


"The sewers sound like the only way in unless we wait til monday." Ghlahn adds his consensus in a quiet, non-imposing tone. "Can't say I really like either option. If there is an entrance inside the compound that would get my vote. Easier to bypass security. If we get lucky, the manhole will not be in an area the guards watch. Usually security is more invested in looking outwards than inwards. But, if they are watching, there will likely be bloodshed again."


"No," the medtech shakes his head and looks down at the table. "No more bloodshed if we can avoid it." Raising his gaze, he continues. "The more gunfire, the more media attention. The more bloodshed, the more media attention. We've already drawn a lot of heat. We've got to find a way to do this without killing more people."


"I've three mindcores left," Blossom reports around her sucker. "I've a program that can cloak one meatbag decently enough, but it ain't magic and without knowing the actual security measures this place has in operation, it's a risk, is all I'm sayin'."


"I vote the sewers," the pretty nomad pipes up and points to the tunnel Blossom had brought up on her virtual display. "Look, it's the cleanest approach if we're trying to be discreet."


"Unless we can figure out a way to go in from the top," Bloodbank suggests. "There are those tenements near the school. If we could get an angle, put a line down to one of the school rooftops, and zipline in, anyone got the equipment for that?"


"I've a grapple line," Fixer states in a monotone that speaks as though he doesn't really care. "But it's only twenty-meters in length."


"How far was the nearest building from the tenements?" Bloodbank asks.


"About triple that distance," Echo replies.


"Well," the medtech looks sullen. "That rules that out."


"So, we're back to the sewers then?" the Asian netrunner asks. "OK, then let's discuss how we're gonna get down there.


"The sewer entrance, here," she brings the map back to the street view location and points to the manhole center in the road, "is where we'll need to get in. That's the closest access and unless we want to spend more time down there—which, I don't. These are new boots—then this is our best option. But this is a busy street, even at this time of night, and we don't know what kind of locking mechanism the manhole cover has in place, if any. So, we've got a couple of problems way I see it.


"First," Blossom deactivates the virtual holographic display and pockets her agent. "We've gotta keep from getting ran over while trying to get down through the manhole, and second; we gotta get down in through the manhole.


"Now, I got a techscanner, so I can check and see what bandwidth is being used at the manhole. That should tell me if it's remotely controlled, or has a feed of some kind, but I'll need at least thirty-seconds to a minute for the device to work."


"That's assuming that the manhole is secured at all," Echo adds.


"Oh," Blossom grins and takes the lollipop from her mouth. "They'll be secured, sugarpie. Just ask either of these big boys here—" the grape sucker is used as a pointer to indicate Vegas and Ghlahn. "—and I'm sure they'll tell ya that any security company worth their salt is gonna make sure that they've got all of the ways in and out covered."


"Great," Bloodbank leans forward and places his elbows on the table, clasping his hands before him. "So, what's the plan to get down into the sewers then?"

Posted on 2016-10-31 at 10:05:34.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Nope. Nothing you can't discover in reading back posts.


Bloodbank has been played as reluctant to take life, but capable. Other than that, just look through his gear, there are links on the first post of this Q&A thread, but if you have any questions, just ask.

Posted on 2016-10-31 at 09:09:35.

Topic: Hunter the Vigil, A supernatural Game
Subject: The Owl, a Local Pub in Markham a Suburb in Toronto, Canada. Thursday, August 28th, 2016.


Ignoring the jeering and rude comments being flung after the old fellow and his two escorts, Colum continues on as though his sole purpose is to depart the craziness ensuing on the roof. Truth be told, part of him is doing just that. He's not one for crowds and even more so the type that could erupt into further chaos at a moment's notice. Having sent the text message to Pastor Dominic, the biker is about to slide his phone back into his pocket when he's surprised by an immediate reply. Studying the screen, he frowns and continues descending the steps.


A man in white with horns stealing souls? Never heard of that... But I'll check the books. I do know that demons have horns and steal souls but.. they've always been tiny, usually invisible and ugly. Like the classic imp... Lord help me I need coffee, I've been staying up late researching on everything ever since.. Yknow.. I'll get back to you on that.


Using the thumb of his right hand, Wrathman simply responds with, Thx and proceeds to return his phone to his jacket pocket. Ahead of him, Norman is walked down the stairs and forcefully thrown to the floor by the pair of angry looking men. Colum pauses at the foot of the stairs and leans against the wall watching dispassionately as one of the locals bullying the old man stops and spits at him before turning back to head upstairs. Seeing no one stop to help the old man—though, again, a few looks of pity are thrown his way—the large biker sniffs in disgust as the two men move to begin their ascent to the roof once more.


"And here I thought that you Canadians were supposed to be nice," he rumbles in his deep voice while eyeballing the two men (OOC: Presence check please). "Where I come from, you just don't treat the elderly like that."


Colum's intent is to subdue the anger these men are feeling through intimidation, but then to hopefully turn their emotions into shame by calling them on their rough treatment. Moving past them, he's not shy about making them move to avoid him and his dusty riding leathers.


Stepping up to the frail form on the floor, Colum McRath drops to a crough and holds out a calloused hand, "Here."


"Thank you young fellow. I. I really appreciate that.". Norman sighs for a moment, accepting the offered assistance and pull to his feet before he says, "Let me get you a drink for your kindness."


"Sure," Colum casts another sidelong look up the stairs just to make sure trouble isn't following them and then pats the older fellow on the back. "Never turned down a Corona."


Walking with Norman to the bar, the biker casually scans the room and registers the faces of all that he can for signs of their current dispositions. He doesn't care what people think of him; being a biker his whole life he's heard it all, but if he can make out the difference in a person's demeanor from when they were just judging him versus his association with Norman, that might tell the hunter a great deal.


Bellying up to the bar, the long-haired scruffy man sets his partially consumed Corona Extra on the bar, catches the bartender's attention, and indicates another for himself and one for Norman.


"So, Norman, is it?" he begins casually. "What was that all about?"


Posted on 2016-10-31 at 09:06:42.

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: Well, now...


*Goes in search of something to light fires under people...*

Posted on 2016-10-31 at 08:46:00.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: What can I say? Trouble follows beauty... or is that smoke? Smoke follows beauty.


Check your PM, Boo.

Posted on 2016-10-28 at 18:15:24.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I've posted yet again.


I've posted. There's opportunity for Medical and Engineering to make some posts here as well. Happy to collaborate with anyone, or have people pick up the NPCs.

Posted on 2016-10-28 at 15:42:57.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: More Reception Activity | Trouble in Chem Lab | Lunch with Tochi


Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.5)
USS Peregrine Deck 2 - Captain's Mess - 19:22





Haemis finishes off his drink and smiles warmly. "Tis a fast ship. But her top speeds are classified if memory serves. Without know'n what I'm allowed to divulge, I hope you understand that I canna give ye that information. But I can tell ya she's fast." he shifts his weight, fighting that nervous feeling at being in a crowd, even though it may be a small crowd. "Ifinya get the chance, and the Capt'n approves it, we can look into getting you a tour. They might already have one lined up for ye." he snags another drink as Ops passes by with a tray of them, "These are quite good. Have ye had one yet?" he asked looking at the glass.


"Ah, that's the Rytainian Blue Frond Tea," Threel genuinely puffs out his chest with pride. "The tea leaves provide a natural sweetener that is delightful on the palette. I'm pleased that you find it enjoyable."


"We've nothing so sweet on Kuldar that grows from a natural source." D'Lar grins a wolfish baring of teeth and shakes his head causing his greasy hair to flop about his neck like limp eels. "Though some on Kuldar have managed to acquire a taste for it from shipments we've procured."


"Procured, indeed," Threel mumbles just loud enough that Asovil finds herself slightly startled by the indication she can only presume means the Rytainian ambassador is insinuating theft by the Kuldaran people. D'Lar seems not to notice, though the Andorian is positive that he heard.


McTavish continues staring at the liquid for a long moment as if remembering something. The last time he actually drank much of anything was at a friend's wedding prior to the posting on the Coronado. it was a small affair, just a few tents in a park in the middle of Washington—some park he couldn't remember the name of. He did recall that it had a wonderful view.


"Hurricane Ridge!" he says suddenly and randomly as he remembers the name of the park. "That was the place..." he continues under his breath and snapping his fingers. "Lieutenant Pressman and his bride to be. That's where I remember something like this from..." he points to the drink completely oblivious of the exchange between the delegates. "Ach, memories. Sometimes harder to pull data from than a fried isolinear chip!" he shakes his head a moment again, realizing he's rambling.


"Memories, indeed," D'Lar pounces, using the CEO's distracted comments to poke his ambush his counterpart in a very subtle way.


"I believe that a tour of the Peregrine would be an excellent way to have what remaining questions you may have answered," Asovil chimes in, surprising even herself as she impulsively reacts to the desire she feels to ward off potential hostilities. "If one has not already been arranged, perhaps Lieutenant Salad would be kind enough to do so." Unaware that she had mistaken the Ops department head's name for the green-leafed meal, she continues. "We have an impressive ship, and despite security considerations, I'd imagine a large portion of it could be showcased for your entertainment."


"Yes," Threel pulls the sour look he's giving D'Lar away as though it were being drawn in by a persistent tractor beam and forces a friendly smile back upon his orange lips. "I would find that amusing."


"I think I'll have to decline any such invitations," the Kuldaran dignitary waves his scaly hand as though to shoo the thought from his mind. "I've much to review in order to be fully prepared for the summit."


Glancing sidelong at Tochi, the blue-skinned beauty wonders at his thoughts. He appears calm and collected, engaged a minimum of what decorum calls for, witty, and in control, but she considers whether he is contemplative, astute, and observant.


"As we imagine both of you might, Ambassador D'Lar," Tochi smiles graciously, offering a nod to the Kuldaran, "Should you find an opening in your schedule and decide otherwise, don't hesitate to let us know.


"Of course," he continues, offering the same smile as his gaze ticks to Threel, "I'm sure that you'll understand there will be areas of the ship that are, by necessity, restricted, but we're sure that a tour can be arranged that will familiarize you with the Saber-class. Lieutenant McTavish and I will confer and come up with something for you."


"You know something of engineering, Lieutenant Zai?" Threel asks curiously, his wispy brows crawling higher on his forehead.


"A bit." Zai grins modestly, "Though, we're certainly not of Mac's caliber. Our last post before being assigned to the Peregrine was actually on the Saber Class Development Project," Asovil regards him with deeper interest. Such an assignment wasn't something she had imagined him enduring for long—too sedentary. "In fact, our last assignment on that tour was to deliver this very ship to Captain Drake. We have some insight."


He chuckles softly and offers a faint shrug as his gaze lets go of Threel and dips to regard the contents of his mug for a second. "I seem to be in need of another drink," his green-gold eyes lift, again, and move from face to face, lingering on Asovil's for perhaps a nanosecond longer than the others. "If you'll excuse us for a moment, gentlemen, we're inclined to try some of that Blue Frond Tea."


The Andorian turns her head to watch him sashay away, but realizes that such an action might cause questions to be raised in a situation where premature assumptions might be damaging to all involved and returns her deep blue gaze to the delegates.


"Ah," D'Lar's declaration is guttural and deep. "I'm inclined to move this conversation to the table. This has been a long day and I long for the succulent blood of the KoKomta to linger for a time on my tongue."


"That sounds delightful," Threel groans, but extends his hand towards the table as though being the gracious host. "Shall we, then?"


Not needing any further prompting, Asovil turns and gracefully glides about the table to her chair. Once more seated, she waits and watches the actions of more experienced souls in this setting to take her ease and sup.




------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Chief Science Officer's Office - 09:35





... further than the past test marks. The containment field appears to not be sustainable after a capacity threshold of ~12% dark matter has been achieved. Particle Alignment Fields seem to fluctuate with the displacement of normal matter perhaps due to the increase of density. I'm seeking your assistance with the physics involved in the PA Field's algorithms. I've included my previous calculations along with recent modifications—




=/= Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas,=/= the computer's pleasant female voice interrupts her typed missive giving reason for the Andorian woman to pause. =/= You have a new message from Lieutenant Zai. =/=


Dark blue lips feel parched and her heart rate elevates with the words. She had set the alert moments after she had sent her final draft to Tochi's original message, but even knowing that the alert would eventually sound isn't enough to prepare her for the flood of excitement now that it has.


"Thank you," she replies through what seems to her to be a desert residing on her tongue. Momentarily saving the draft of the letter she is writing to Dr. Ster, a Vulcan mathematician and theoretical physicist of some repute that she has enlisted in the past to assist her with this experiment, the blue-skinned woman accesses her newly arrived messages. Filtering isn't necessary as Tochi's is the first in the list along with thirty-three additional unread messages from across the known Systems. Long, smooth fingers pause just before touching the screen and for a moment Asovil is worried about what she's about to read.


"You are an Andorian Imperial Guard and accomplished scientist," she chides in a stern tone. "No mere words can possibly be this intimidating."


Still, she finds those last two centimeters of air between her fingertips and the amoled screen's surface thicker than air's density should be requiring an act of sheer will to finish the action. Childish, she observes harshly as the screen responds and Tochi's communication replaces the inbox.


To: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
From: Lt Zai, T.
Subject: re re: Schedule?


I am pleased to hear that it's a bit less hectic for you, today. Chaos makes it difficult to settle in.


As I am technically not on duty until 1500, my schedule is, for the most part, open until the Captain's Mast at 1400. As to location, I'm interested more in the company than the cuisine; I'll leave the choice of place and time at your discretion.


Looking forward to seeing you,


Tochi


Concern flutters from her chest like a butterfly newly emerged from its chrysalis and lites upon her lips in the form of a gentle smile. So great the impression that she finds herself touching her lips with two fingers from her left hand and in surprised embarrassment, pushes her hand between her thighs in order to keep it from springing to life of its own accord once more.


"He's leaving it up to me," she wonders out loud. "But I don't even know the ship yet!" Brow furrowing is accompanied by antenna laying low across her silky white hair as her brilliant mind begins to sort through potential options. There's the mess hall, the Airie, a holodeck, perhaps? Using her free right hand, the young officer access the holodeck schedule on her personal computer. Scheduled, she acknowledges grimly. Then, brushing her tamed hair back over her right ear unnecessarily, she leans back in her chair and begins to chew on her bottom lip.


The Airie did have good food, but it wasn't exactly private, shocked at her own line of thought, Asovil blinks. Privacy isn't necessary at this point in time. I have barely met the man and we both have reputations to uphold. The Airie will do fine.


Sufficiently chastised by her inner Imperial Guard Instructor, she sets about writing her reply.
To: Lt Zai, T.
From: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
Subject: re: re: re: Schedule?


Then, 12:30 hours at the Airie. I shall see you there, and I shall have bells on.


Asovil


There, she quickly pushes the send button before she could second guess herself. Providing her left hand company, the lieutenant slips her right hand between her thighs and leans forward, staring at the indicator that the message has been sent with too wide sapphire eyes. Almost three seconds pass before the notice that her draft remains incomplete catches her attention. Giving her head a slight shake to remove the cobwebs that had been developing, the missive is returned to prominent position on her screen and the work continued.


Providing additional information for Dr. Ster takes up the majority of the next couple of hours. Finishing the communication and striking send provides the scientist with a sense of accomplishment that is short-lived as she returns to her inbox and begins to sort through her messages.


Finding more than ten from her immediate staff regarding requests for assistance in problem solving, requisitions, and introductions, the young officer quickly sorts through priorities and then begins to answer them with all of the formal alacrity she can muster.


=/=Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas?=/=


"Yes?" Asovil looks up at the bulkhead above her doorway as though that's where the voice hails from.


=/=This is PO Rogers.=/=


The scientist leans back in her chair and waits for the chemist to continue. Two seconds pass. Three seconds pass. Four seconds— "Yes, Petty Officer?" she finally asks in exasperation.


=/=I'm seeking permission to go to sickbay, sir.=/=


"You're off duty, PO Rogers, is that correct?"


=/=Yes, sir.=/=


"Well," she shakes her head and turns her attention back to the computer screen. "You don't need my permission to go to sick bay. What's your reason?"


=/=Chemical burn.=/=


This gives the department head pause. "How bad?"


=/=Right hand, forearm, thigh, and, uh, groin.=/=


"What in the world are you doing—never mind. Get yourself to sick bay immediately, PO Rogers."


=/=Yes, sir.=/=


Shaking her head, Asovil uses her tongue to feel the ridges on her teeth as she attempts to comprehend what had just happened. Seconds pass and she finally gives up, rises, and strides out of her office while striking her comm badge. "Computer. Where was PO Rogers when he contacted me most recently?"


=/=Petty Officer Rogers was located in the Chemistry Lab.=/=


"What's going on?" Ensign Maize calls out as Asovil makes her way towards the lab door.


"Rogers has just experienced a chem burn that sounds like it may have been pretty extreme." Asovil pauses and turns to look at Maize with a level gaze. "Get to sick bay and make sure he makes it there. Keep me informed."


"Yes, sir."


Lt. Sh'iraolnas doesn't wait for Ensign Maize, but returns to her determined efforts of achieving the Chem Lab in short order. Upon her arrival, the doors steam open revealing a laboratory filled with beakers, tubes, and a noxious olive-green hued haze. Stopped just outside of the door by the sight of the potentially dangerous gas, the scientist immediately closes the doors.


"Computer, analyze the air contaminate within the chem lab," she instructs the ship's computer as she places her hands on her hips and looks down at her polished black boot tips.


=/=Analyzing.=/=


The soft sounds of boots crossing the carpeted corridor draw Asovil's attention. Strolling down the hall with a PADD in hand is a young Terran woman with shock-red hair and a studious expression upon her face. She looks up from her reading long enough to note the Andorian and her eyes widen slightly.


"Och!" the word that escapes her cherry red lips is unfamiliar to the CSO. The petty officer snaps a hasty salute and stops dead in her tracks a couple of meters from the Andorian woman. "Lieutenant!"


Unaware that her expression exhibits worry, Asovil returns the salute without turning from her severe and impatient stance in front of the door.


"Oh, uh," the red-head drops the salute and timidly points towards the door. "Is there a problem with the door, then? Can you no' get inside?"


"There's no problem with the door, Petty Officer," Lt. Sh'iraolnas responds crisply.


"I see," a broad and friendly smile dashes itself against the other woman's even white teeth. "Rogers can be a wee bi' o' a intimidatin' bloke, but you get use'ta ‘im after a time."


"I'm no—"


=/=Analysis complete. Contaminates include 2-mercaptoethanol, Sodium Azide, and Tetrahydrofuran.=/=


"Flush the room!" Asovil immediately addresses the computer with such force and urgency in her voice that the smaller red-headed woman takes a step back.


=/=Flushing the room.=/=


"Is tha', um, bad?"


The Andorian glances to the petty officer and immediately realizes that the woman is genuinely concerned. A concern that penetrates the call to action the air analysis had instigated. Chewing the inside of her bottom lip, Asovil considers her response. The petty officer is wearing the red and black uniform of Command and Flight, but the blue-skinned woman is sure she hasn't seen her about yet. Knowing nothing of this Terran, the CSO makes her decision on how to proceed.


"It has been resolved, but yes. Had someone wandered in there without consideration of the threat, they would likely be severely injured. Perhaps even killed."


"Lordy!" the woman breathes and regards the door with wide eyes. "Is Rogers in there?"


"No." Asovil keeps her own gaze leveled with the woman. "Are you two close?"


"Close?" Guffaws the red-head, bending over at the waist and wheezing through her humor as she clutches the PADD to her stomach. "No! No. Jus' concerned fer the safety o' all the crew, Lieutenant."


"What's your name, Petty Officer?" Asovil continues to regard the woman through narrowed eyes and remains uncertain her response is entirely necessary.


"Petty Officer Secon' Class, Megan Owen, sir!" the PO straightens and wipes the moisture from her crinkled eyes, still very much amused.


"Well, PO Owen," raising her thin, white eyebrows, the Andorian tilts her head to the side and allows her antennae to press forward a bit. "Are you on duty?"


"Oh, no, sir." Megan shakes her head causing her bunched up, curled hair to bounce about the back of her neck. "No' til Beta Shift."


"Fine. Does the Peregrine have any hazmat suits on hand?"


"I dunno, sir," PO Owen shrugs. "Do ya want me t' check with Engineerin'?"


"No, but thank you." Returning her attention to the door, Asovil brushes the imagined strands of hair over her left ear and replaces her hand on her hip. "I don't want to trouble you from your leasure time."


"Tis no trouble, sir," Megan quips. "Truly. I'm happy t' help."


"I appreciate your consideration, Petty Officer, but I'll get this handled."


"Yes, sir," Megan nods, the pretty smile still on her elfish, freckled face. "Have a good day, Lieutenant."


"You too."


Waiting until the bubbly little red-head has moved on down the corridor, Asovil strikes her badge and says, "Lt. Sh'iraolnas to Engineering."


=/=Engineering here.=/=


"There's been a chemical spill in the Chem Lab," she informs them. "Will you please send a crew with hazmat suits to clean it up? The chemicals have been flushed from the air in the room, but one of my team was injured and the contaminates might still be on interior surfaces. Use extreme caution."


=/=Acknowledged.=/=


"Computer," the Andorian promptly changes subjects. "Lock this door and do not allow any non-Engineering personnel to enter without my authorization."


=/=Acknowledged, Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas.=/=


"Computer?" Beginning to walk back towards Lab One, the CSO begins yet another request of the ship's systems. "Did PO Rogers make it to sick bay?"


=/=PO Rogers arrived in sick bay at twelve-twenty hours.=/=


Changing her mind about her destination, Asovil heads for sick bay. Having a short distance to go, the young CSO encounters Ensign Maize returning from the direction of the medical facilities. The smaller woman looks up at her superior officer and gives her a salute, receiving one in return.


"PO Rogers is stable and undergoing treatment. They put him under so he wouldn't have to feel the pain once the shock wore off," Dalia reports grimly, the look in her eyes is reminiscent of a soldier who had just returned from the battlefield.


"How extensive are the injuries?"


"He must have been in shock because those burns were deep," the ensign shakes her head, her blonde ponytail rolling about on the back of her head. "I've never seen anything like it. What chemicals was he messing with?"


"2-mercaptoethanol, Sodium Azide, and Tetrahydrofuran," the Andorian informs her. "Do you know what he could have possibly been working on? And wasn't today his day-off?"


"I don't," Dalia sucks in air through her pursed lips as she mentally reviews the petty officer's work files. "I can't think of any assignment that involves a combination of those chemicals. That would have certainly raised some red flags for me."


"First-year chemistry students know not to be reckless with any of those substances," Asovil confirms. "The combination of the three created quite the deadly environment within the lab. I have asked Engineering to make sure it is cleaned, but they could likely use your assistance with identifying which substances need to remain untouched. I would stay, but I'm not yet familiar enough with the contents of the lab to be of any help."


"I understand," Dalia admits. "I'll head right over there."


"Thank you," Asovil remarks and the ensign salutes one more time before gliding down the hall, a willowy wisp of a pale woman owning the corridor.


Now, with nothing left to do since PO Rogers is now unconscious and wouldn't even be aware of her presence, the beautiful Andorian woman considers returning to her office but is immediately clocked by her subconscious. Tochi! she recalls. "Computer, time?"


=/=The time is now twelve-hundred-thirty-seven hours.=/=


Swearing is unbecoming an officer, an Andorian Imperial Guard, and an Andorian lady. "Damn!" Asovil remarks before rushing down the hall.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Airie" - 12:46





Arriving at the Airie, she steps through a little out of breath and full of apologies. Peering about the length of the brightly lit room, the Andorian woman slows her walk to a stop. Tochi is nowhere to be found. Tapping her badge, she calls to him, "Tochi?"


=/=Hello, Lieutenant,=/= his soft reply is delayed by only a couple of seconds, =/=are we late for lunch?=/=


"Marginally," she replies, relieved that she isn't the tardy one. Moving towards the same table they had sat at the night before, the young officer realizes that the hostess isn't present and that the room has only a couple of others present. "No charm, no growl. I'll simply seat myself and await your arrival."


(OOC: Tochi's response,)


Turning in her chair so that her back is to the door, Asovil affects a calm and relaxed exterior pose as she looks out at the passing stars while inside she feels the press of more butterflies threatening to explode from her chest.

Posted on 2016-10-28 at 15:40:29.
Edited on 2016-10-28 at 15:41:26 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I have a man cold.


... ugh! Man Cold!



Posted on 2016-10-28 at 13:28:14.
Edited on 2016-10-28 at 13:28:47 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Monday.


I'll be posting again Monday. Anyone who doesn't post for their character will have said character be subjected to the whims of the dice.

Posted on 2016-10-27 at 10:34:35.

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: I enjoyed the Castle post...


Great fun!

Posted on 2016-10-27 at 10:30:46.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: It is always a pleasure, Eol!


As always, I enjoyed the collaboration work.

I've added another post as well. You know... just to keep things moving.

Posted on 2016-10-26 at 19:56:44.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: The Reception Continued | Captain's Mast Continued


Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.5)
USS Peregrine Deck 2 - Captain's Mess - 19:22





Haemis finishes off his drink and smiles warmly. "Tis a fast ship. But her top speeds are classified if memory serves. Without know'n what I'm allowed to divulge, I hope you understand that I canna give ye that information. But I can tell ya she's fast." he shifts his weight, fighting that nervous feeling at being in a crowd, even though it may be a small crowd. "Ifinya get the chance, and the Capt'n approves it, we can look into getting you a tour. They might already have one lined up for ye." he snags another drink as Ops passes by with a tray of them, "These are quite good. Have ye had one yet?" he asked looking at the glass.


"Ah, that's the Rytainian Blue Frond Tea," Threel genuinely puffs out his chest with pride. "The tea leaves provide a natural sweetener that is delightful on the palette. I'm pleased that you find it enjoyable."


"We've nothing so sweet on Kuldar that grows from a natural source." D'Lar grins a wolfish baring of teeth and shakes his head causing his greasy hair to flop about his neck like limp eels. "Though some on Kuldar have managed to acquire a taste for it from shipments we've procured."


"Procured, indeed," Threel mumbles just loud enough that Asovil finds herself slightly startled by the indication she can only presume means the Rytainian ambassador is insinuating theft by the Kuldaran people. D'Lar seems not to notice, though the Andorian is positive that he heard.


McTavish continues staring at the liquid for a long moment as if remembering something. The last time he actually drank much of anything was at a friend's wedding prior to the posting on the Coronado. it was a small affair, just a few tents in a park in the middle of Washington—some park he couldn't remember the name of. He did recall that it had a wonderful view.


"Hurricane Ridge!" he says suddenly and randomly as he remembers the name of the park. "That was the place..." he continues under his breath and snapping his fingers. "Lieutenant Pressman and his bride to be. That's where I remember something like this from..." he points to the drink completely oblivious of the exchange between the delegates. "Ach, memories. Sometimes harder to pull data from than a fried isolinear chip!" he shakes his head a moment again, realizing he's rambling.


"Memories, indeed," D'Lar pounces, using the CEO's distracted comments to poke his ambush his counterpart in a very subtle way.


"I believe that a tour of the Peregrine would be an excellent way to have what remaining questions you may have answered," Asovil chimes in, surprising even herself as she impulsively reacts to the desire she feels to ward off potential hostilities. "If one has not already been arranged, perhaps Lieutenant Salad would be kind enough to do so." Unaware that she had mistaken the Ops department head's name for the green-leafed meal, she continues. "We have an impressive ship, and despite security considerations, I'd imagine a large portion of it could be showcased for your entertainment."


"Yes," Threel pulls the sour look he's giving D'Lar away as though it were being drawn in by a persistent tractor beam and forces a friendly smile back upon his orange lips. "I would find that amusing."


"I think I'll have to decline any such invitations," the Kuldaran dignitary waves his scaly hand as though to shoo the thought from his mind. "I've much to review in order to be fully prepared for the summit."


Glancing sidelong at Tochi, the blue-skinned beauty wonders at his thoughts. He appears calm and collected, engaged a minimum of what decorum calls for, witty, and in control, but she considers whether he is contemplative, astute, and observant.




Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Captain's Mess - 14:05





The silence in the room is palpable. Asovil finally deigns to regard Chief Crane's expression and studies it with unfeigned interest as Captain Drake continues. "If you wish to confer with your advocate, Chief Crane, you may do so now. I need to know which course you would prefer to take."


"There's no need to confer, Captain," Chief Crane's voice maintains a steady and level tone. "I am fully prepared to accept your ruling in this matter, sir."


Lt. Sh'iraolnas presses her lips together and finds herself surprisingly relieved by the CPO's decision. Knowing full well that Tochi is Lauren's advocate, having discussed some of the details at lunch, Asovil can only surmise that the woman has made the best possible decision for her future. Returning her attention to Captain Drake, the Andorian awaits the continuance of the Captain's Mast.


Judging by Captain Drake's disposition, Chief Crane's decision is satisfactory in the Chief Science Officer's opinion.


"Fair enough, Chief," Silas answers in what Asovil deems a neutral tone, "with that being the case, I will proceed to the heart of the matter."


The Captain pauses for a moment and looks around the room before fixing his gaze once again on Crane. The blue-skinned scientist takes the momentary lull to perform a similar assessment. Each of the officers present at the table were all accomplished in their poker faces so that any analysis is rendered inept. Slightly put out (though unaware as to why, exactly), Asovil returns her attention to her captain as he resumes the proceedings.


"This morning at oh eight thirty," Silas begins, "I had a meeting with Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas. As we recapped her impressions of her new department, she revealed to me that the two of you had a meeting yesterday evening, during which you confessed that you were, in fact, the individual responsible for the arrest of Lieutenant Tesenblen. According to Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas' report, you had concerns with the study of the wolfsbane and the potential impact in terms of safety to the crew and the mission."


Drake pauses for a moment. "I was told that you raised these concerns to Lieutenant Tesenblen, but that he was not swayed, and cited the containment plan he had developed and I had sanctioned. From what I understand, you felt that since I had already approved his research and his plan, that your concerns would fall on deaf ears. You then contacted security aboard Starbase 118 to report the illegal research that Lieutenant Tesenblen was conducting."


The Captain pauses again, and the holographic projectors leap to life displaying a time stamped communications log. Drake gestures to the projection.


"The communications log between the Peregrine and Starbase 118 appears to corroborate this account. Please note the highlighted entry—stardate 42135.3. Communication initiated from Chief Petty Officer Lauren Crane to Starbase 118 security, duration six minutes, twelve seconds."


The Captain sighs ever so slightly inviting a quizzical expression to momentarily flit across the Andorian woman's smooth features. "Furthermore, an interview with your roommate, one Chief Petty Officer Dana Cook, reveals that you told her an essentially identical story to the one you told Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas."


Silas interlaces his fingers atop the table and regards the accused. "Chief Crane, to be quite honest with you, the facts seem to be exceptionally clear. However, I will now give you the chance to present your version of the events in question. While I rather doubt that you will be able to tender any facts to call into question the veracity of the evidence I have related, it is possible that you may still present some mitigating circumstance of which I am not privy. This is your chance to speak, so please, include any information that you feel may be relevant to this proceeding."


With that, the Captain leans back in his chair and waits for the Chief's response. Lauren's earth-colored eyes sink to the enamelled tabletop for a moment and she breathes in deeply. Exhaling slowly, she makes her lips vanish in an expression of pressed consideration and then wets them as they appear once again with the tip of her tongue. Looking back towards Captain Drake, the diminutive woman affects an expression of still, resigned calm.


"Sir," she initiates, "when Lieutenant Tesenblen brought the wolfsbane on board, I dismissed it as another of his personal projects and assumed he had taken all of the necessary steps to resolve any concerns. However, once I learned that the summit delegation had chosen the Peregrine as their transportation, the thought struck me that the wolfsbane could be used by one side or the other to dismantle the peace talks by eliminating the opposing ambassador. I took my concerns to Lieutenant Tesenblen, and as you've already acknowledged, he dismissed them by stating that he had a proper containment field in place and that you, sir, had already approved his protocol.


"Having been informed that you, sir, were both privy to and accepting of his plan, I felt the need to take alternative action. This is where I know I went wrong, sir. I should have requested a meeting with Lieutenant Zai, or even you directly, sir. I know this. But at the time, I felt that there were no open lines of command through which I could resolve this potential threat to the mission and this ship." Lauren wets her lips again with the tip of her tongue and for the first time, Asovil witnesses her break from her stoic mask as her muddy eyes dart quickly towards where Tochi sits. The act is cause enough to start the Andorian woman's mind to mulling over the conversation she and the Trill had shared at lunch concerning the Mast, and she resides within those thoughts until Chief Crane continues.


"My reasoning was not, by any means, perfect, sir," the smallish woman acknowledges grimly. "I can assure you, though, that my actions were not malicious. Nor were they with the intent to do anything other than eliminate a potential threat to our mission.


"Everyone on board the Peregrine knows that Lieutenant Zai is, well, for lack of a more delicate way of phrasing it, your right-hand man. And this was occuring during the change in Ops leadership—" Asovil glances at the Risan seated next to Tochi and wonders when they'll have the opportunity to speak while Lauren continues. "—so, I felt that all of my immediate command options were either of a similar mind, or too new to the role to, perhaps, be of proper assistance. That sounds harsh, or mean, but I don't mean it to.


"I—I was at a loss, sir," she continues, holding herself in rigid poise despite the obvious emotion in her voice. "I figured that if I passed my concerns on to the security personnel at Starbase One-One-Eight, the concern could then become theirs, and if they decided it bore merit, well, then, someone from Starbase One-One-Eight could contact you. I never thought for a moment that they would come directly for Lieutenant Tesenblen and arrest him, nor that they would confiscate the majority of the lab, or cause this ship the problems that my actions have caused."


Lauren looks back to the table's surface and takes another deep breath before lifting her gaze to meet the unwaveringly stern eyes of her commanding officer. "I am fully aware of my error in circumventing the chain of command, sir, and I am wholly filled with regret at the action and the consequences thereof."


As she finishes, the gulping motion of her throat is very pronounced, though Asovil doesn't hear any sound to accompany it. Glancing from Chief Crane's sorrowful face to the rock-like demeanor of Captain Drake, Lt. Sh'iraolnas is caught by Tochi's words. The calm tone and diplomatic tremor in his voice draws her eyes like a Phertoni to a light.

Posted on 2016-10-26 at 19:54:53.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: We've missed ya!


But we understand. Use voice-to-text... there's no writing involved.

Posted on 2016-10-25 at 18:17:06.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: It is indeed!


And I've no other quip to add to that... I've posted something lengthy to tide people who are interested in reading over until Eol and I finish out collaboration, though. Or, of course, until Olan posts his continuation.

Posted on 2016-10-25 at 16:51:08.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Back at the Reception | Asovil receives the lunch invitation | Captain's Mast


Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.5)
USS Peregrine Deck 2 - Captain's Mess - 19:16





"What about the weapons compliment?" D'Lar presses. "When we were first introduced to the two vessels upon which our delegation and ourselves now journey, we were informed that the USS Coronado doesn't carry quite the load out that the USS Peregrine carries and yet, the USS Coronado is a much larger ship."


The blue-skinned beauty's antennae lean forward and she unconsciously chews on the inside of her bottom lip. Such questions were usually considered rude within the Andorian culture, but she is unsure as to Terran's, or, for that matter, Kuldaran's and Rhytanians. Tread carefully, Mr. McTavish, she internally cautions.


Haemis smiles warmly, "Ah, everyone want's to know about the guns! Ye see we might be wee compared to the Coronado but the Peregrine is a sight newer." He take a moment to drink. "I canna really go into specifics about our defensive systems, you understand. Security'n all. What I can tell ye is ye have no fear, we can hold our own in a fight," he said in a reassuring tone. "I can tell ya even for a small ship, she's got ample appointments. You don't often find guest quarters for instance on a vessel of this size." He takes another drink. "Ah, and state of the art Holosuites. They may be a sight small but they make up for it in the technology put into them."


Asovil regards the two ambassadors in an attempt to read their expressions. Not being familiar with the species, she finally concludes that she doesn't have enough data to correctly surmise anything and is brought back from her analysis by the engineer's accented continuance.


"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of seeing yer vessels yet?" Haemis' smile broadens. "I bet they are incredibly facinatin'." he looks up for a moment. "I remember the first time I got my hands on a Klingon Bird of Prey, now that was a challenge. I don't much care for how simple they engineer but they are very functional and efficient. Not to mention one of those..." he pauses, realizing he's starting to ramble. "My apologizes. Ye get me started on engineering and I might go all night."


"Our ships," D'Lar chuffs. "They are nothing compared to even this, smaller vessel of Starfleet's. Now, if we had a few of these in our fleet; well, let's just say that these peace talks wouldn't be about to take place." The scaly-skinned fellow chuckles at his own comment and places a hand on Threel's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Of course, the same could be said if his people had a few of these and we didn't."


"I suppose we should be grateful that neither of our peoples have had access to these war machines," the Rytainian dignitary says sourly through a weak smile as he endures his counterpart's touch. "You did mention, Lieutenant McTavish, that the Peregrine's cruising speed is warp seven. What would be her maximum speed?"



Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Chief Science Officer's Office - 09:10





Finalizing a series of computer-aided algorithms designed to reconfigure the containment parameters for the dark matter collector engine, Asovil cranes her neck to the right and then the left eliciting a small popping within the vertebrae and relieving some of the stress that has built up there over the past number of minutes. Turning to her linked PADD, she drags the contents of her personal computer over to the PADD screen with a swipe of her right hand and rises from her desk. Punching in the commands to implement the new algorithms into the simulation program, the Andorian woman begins to pace. Resulting data scrolls across the handheld screen igniting the analytical side to her brain as she processes the information. Failed containment, the first results conclude. The first variant algorithm is entered and the simulation begins to play through once more. Failed containment, the second results conclude. With a resigned shake of her head, Lt. Sh'iraolnas enters the command for the third variant to be tested.


Sighing mightily, Asovil drops back into her chair and unceremoniously sets the PADD on the desk before her as the third results come back negative. Chewing on her bottom lip, the blue-skinned beauty considers the possibilities for failure. My math could be wrong, she posits. The power levels in the collector's generator could be too low. But, the collector is collecting, it's only after the matter is building up that the containment ruptures. So, it has to be something within the containment configuration. Perhaps a level three containment field isn't enough to hold the matter? But it's enough to contain a warp core breach, White fingernails click repetitively on the smooth desk surface as the thoughts continue their procession through her mind. From within her subconscious, recognition that outstanding messages exist within her terminal and the realization breaks her chain of thought as assuredly as a physical event.


"Can't even stay focused for a few minutes," she mumbles and leans forward to bring up the messages. Scanning the list, her heart flutters at the sight of one message from Lt. Zai that she immediately brings up.


To: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
From: Lt Zai, T.
Subject: Schedule?
Good morning.


I hope your second day aboard is off to a better start than your first.


Lunch, today?


Warm regards,
Tochi


A delighted smile ascends to her full lips and then encompasses her entire being. Absently brushing some imagined strands of hair behind her right ear, the elegant scientist keys up her reply.


To: Lt Zai, T.
From: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
Subject: re: Schedule?


I would welcome the respite and the company.


Sincerely,


Asovil


Pondering the reply, she wonders whether it is too formal resulting in his belief that she isn't interested. Then, she considers whether she ought to reply with an explanation that her mind has been on the physics behind containing dark matter with the intention of repurposing it as a never-ending supply of fuel—a permanent alternative to dilithium crystals. Discarding the latter as scientific mumbo jumbo that may be interpreted as puffing herself up, Asovil immediately returns to the possibility that her response is too formal. Returning to the message, she edits it to read:


To: Lt Zai, T.
From: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
Subject: re: Schedule?


Good morning to you!


My day has begun well enough. My meeting with Captain Drake went as well as could be expected, and I've since been focusing on one of my own projects trying to put the drama behind me for the time being.


I appreciate your invitation—more than you know—and would thoroughly enjoy the break of a delightful lunch with you. What time, and where shall I meet you?


Sincerely,


Asovil


Regarding the new reply, the blue-skinned officer visibly blanched. "Disgusting display of pleasantries," she remarks and promptly deletes it. Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, she absently brushes hair that isn't out of place behind her ear again. Simple and friendly, she decides and begins typing once more.


To: Lt Zai, T.
From: Lt(jg) Sh'iraolnas, A.
Subject: re: Schedule?


Good morning to you, as well!


I appreciate you checking in on me. My day is proving to be more routine than yesterday, but would be improved by a lunch date with you, sir. What time shall I meet you, and where?


Sincerely,


Asovil


Settling back in her chair, the lieutenant junior grade begins to reread the message, but catches herself. "You'll be at this all day if you do that," she chides. All the same, it is a difficult task to force herself to be satisfied with the results and press the send option. As the message sent alert appears on her screen, the tall blue-skinned beauty feels momentarily sick to her stomach. Maybe that was too friendly,







Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Captain's Mess - 13:50





Punctuality is a foregone conclusion to the Andorian woman as it has always been. Arriving at the Captain's Mess ten-minutes early affords her the ability to assess the dispositions of those entering the room as they do so, which provides the scientist in her to develop theories on the outcome of the meeting and thus makes her more comfortable and less likely to succumb to surprise anger. Arriving this early usually means that she's the first, but in this case she is surprised to find Chief Crane already seated in a position that will place her directly across from Captain Drake. Not wishing to intrude on the woman's thoughts, Asovil quietly and gracefully pads to the end of the table furthest from the door and seats herself without ceremony.


Crane glances up and for a second the two womens' eyes lock. Sympathy isn't the blue-skinned beauty's strong point, especially when justice is being served. Had Chief Crane been looking for some sign that she has been forgiven her trespass, she finds none within the deep, near midnight blue of her department head's eyes. Eyes that remain locked on the CPO when Lauren drops her gaze back to her clasped hands on the table in front of her.


Minutes pass and more people arrive and in short order, all are present except for Captain Silas Drake. Meeting Lt. Zai's gaze, Asovil fondly recalls their lunch together and finds her cheeks darkening in color before she can mentally assert control over her blushing. Tochi has been the only good that her recent transfer has produced to date. She could but hope that it continues.


The door slides open admitting Silas, straight-backed, and of a neutral countenance, he strides into the Captain's Mess.


Taking his own seat, Drake speaks. "Since it would appear that we are all here, I see no reason to delay this. If no one has an objection, let us begin."


Asovil straightens her own back and turns her attention completely to her captain. Crane, who had become attentively rigid upon Asovil's arrival, remains so; still like a statue before the wrecking ball.


((OOC: assuming no objections))


Drake nods, "Very well. Let the record show that we are assembled here today for the purpose of conducting a non-judicial proceeding in the matter of a gross violation of the chain of command by Chief Petty Officer Lauren Crane." The Captain pauses for a moment to allow his words to sink in before fixing the Chief with his hard gaze.


"Before we continue, Chief, I would like to clarify some potential questions." Silas takes a breath. "Since you are not a commissioned officer, Chief, and further influenced by the fact that we are under weigh, I am fully within my rights as Captain of this vessel to compel you to accept this non judicial proceeding. However, I am willing to give you to option of a formal court martial, if you so desire."


Lt. Sh'iraolnas' antennae twitch with surprise. She knows full well that the captain isn't required to extend that right—knew it even before he made mention of it—and that he is doing so completely dissects her beginning theory on how the mast would proceed. Just as involuntarily as the twitching of her antennae, sapphire eyes seek some explanation of foreknowledge in Tochi's handsome face. The Trill XO is calm and serene, however, providing the Andorian woman with no additional data for her analysis. Chief Crane remains motionless, facing Drake with a solemn expression of remorse and acceptance.


The Captain glances around the table. "You should carefully consider this choice, Chief. If I find you guilty in this non-judicial proceeding, you will have no true method of recourse; you will simply be forced to accept any punishment that I choose to hand out. Such an action will almost certainly have a negative impact upon your Starfleet career. Bear in mind that, unlike in a formal legal trial, I need not be convinced of your guilt beyond a reasonable doubt; I need only decide that a preponderance of the evidence points to your guilt. At a non-judicial proceeding such as this, you are entitled to retain an advocate to help plead your case, but even though I have the utmost faith that whoever you choose to be your advocate will in fact do their best to represent your interests, the fact remains that we lack a true legal specialist aboard the Peregrine, and certainly do not have anyone truly trained to defend breaches of maritime law."


Drake gives a moment for the above to sink in. "With that being said, if you elect to take your chance with a court martial, understand that you will be relieved of duty and confined to quarters until such time as we are able to arrange for your transport to a Starbase or similar Federation outpost where you can stand trial. If this does go to a formal legal action, I will pursue it aggressively, filing charges that will include items such as dereliction of duty, conduct unbecoming, and any and all technicalities that I can find that may apply. While it is certainly possible that you may be able to win your case in a formal legal proceeding, given the evidence I have seen thus far, I rather doubt that will be the situation. If you are convicted at a court martial, you can expect to spend real time in the brig, and can almost guarantee that your Starfleet career will be over."


The silence in the room is palpable. Asovil finally deigns to regard Chief Crane's expression and studies it with unfeigned interest as Captain Drake continues. "If you wish to confer with your advocate, Chief Crane, you may do so now. I need to know which course you would prefer to take."


"There's no need to confer, Captain," Chief Crane's voice maintains a steady and level tone. "I am fully prepared to accept your ruling in this matter, sir."


Lt. Sh'iraolnas presses her lips together and finds herself surprisingly relieved by the CPO's decision. Knowing full well that Tochi is Lauren's advocate, having discussed some of the details at lunch, Asovil can only surmise that the woman has made the best possible decision for her future. Returning her attention to Captain Drake, the Andorian awaits the continuance of the Captain's Mast.

Posted on 2016-10-25 at 16:42:32.
Edited on 2016-10-25 at 16:43:31 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I see...


Crane will likely be as compliant as possible having done her own research the night before and feeling absolutely horrible about the whole affair.

Eol, are you wanting to do a backpost with Crane and Tochi or just continue with the Captain's Mast?

Posted on 2016-10-25 at 10:35:20.

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: Drifter


Colum's pastor is in L.A., not local. But I figure he's Colum's go to for info of the Supernatural ilk.

Posted on 2016-10-25 at 10:22:25.

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: I've posted.


Made some assumptions, so if you want me to retract anything, let me know.

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 18:09:21.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Accept? She'll fall at his feet and cry thankfully.


I've no problem jumping ahead. Crane will be there early, fretting privately. Asovil will also be there but will keep her distance as more of an observer unless called upon.

Eol, if you feel that we can punch out the interaction quickly enough, I've no problem playing Crane to your Tochi, but if not... have at it!

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 18:08:06.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Everything lost... everything.


I'm coming off of a losing weekend. Both football teams lost (college and Pro), and I was hoping it wasn't so, but I totally called the Walking Dead season premier events. Which, though satisfying in that I was right, was still disappointing because... well... I liked them.

I'll wait and see what Eol posts before I write more. Then I'll probably continue the reception for the sake of interaction and see if there's something more to reply to in the other posts.

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 10:50:39.

Topic: Hunter the Vigil, A supernatural Game
Subject: The Owl, a Local Pub in Markham a Suburb in Toronto, Canada.


Coincidence is a fool's method for explaining away God's plan for a person, of that Colum is positive. He is a long way from California covered in the grime from the road wearing his riding leathers, hungry, tired, and in a sour mood having been caught in two rainstorms just today. The freeway spills out into this quiet suburb and Wrathman's hunger had driven him to the first bar he'd come across: The Owl. Parking his Fat Boy with the front tire out ready to ride, the modern day cowboy had slung his saddlebags over his shoulder and readily proceeded inside.

Wiping the dust from his face with a bandana, Colum drops into a booth and scans the room. Locals and a couple of waitresses, but nothing that stands out to him as needing immediate attention. Shifting his bags closer to the wall, he adjusts his SW1911 so that he won't be obstructed should he need to snatch it from it's holster, and turns back to the room just in time to greet the brunette arriving at his table.

"Welcome to the Owl," she says with a timid smile and points to the far end of the table against the wall. "The menu is there, have you had a chance to look it over?"

"What's good?" Colum raises his eyebrows in question.

"People here like the fish n' chips," resting her weight on her left leg, she juts her hip out and holds her elbow to her hip for support as she prepares to write down his order. "Homemade tartar sauce is tasty."

"Got anything that came from something with hooves?"

"Sure do, sweety," she leans forward, placing her torso directly in front of the biker's eyes as she pulls the menu out from behind the salt and pepper shakers and places it in front of him. "You got the garlic burger, the ketchup burger, and the Swiss burger."

"I'll take the Swiss and a Corona Extra."

"Coming up."

The atmosphere in the bar is decent, but when the meal arrives, Colum decides that the food's nothing amazing. The beer is, as always, Corona, and that pleases the biker. As he eats, a meeting of people gather nearby. What appears to the hunter to be a local pastor of a church has organized a meeting on the rooftop terrace, offering free food, drink and the opportunity to talk about the strange things happening around the neighborhood. The words of those gathering drift to the tired Californian drawing his attention. Strange things, Man in White, and other mentions of behaviors that are obviously concerning people ignite Colum's interest and he grabs his plate, hooks a finger around the neck of his beer, and grabs his saddlebags.

"You all done, sweety?" the brunette returns quickly to his side. "I'll bus that, no need for you to."

"Naw," McRath smiles, showing even white teeth. "Just curious about that." He tilts his leather-wrapped head towards the stairs where another couple of locals begin their ascent.

"Oh," hazel eyes widen a bit and her friendly smile fades. "That's Pastor Jeremy's town hall meeting."

"Am I not allowed?"

"No. I mean, no, you're allowed if you want to go, but it's just to discuss some trouble we're having around here. So, I don't know that it'll interest you, Mister."

"I've nothing else to do," Colum settles his saddlebags on his shoulder once more. "Might be interesting to know what's going on seeing how I'm spending the night at least."

The expression on her slim face is tightly concealed, but the Californian thinks he can see unease beneath her mask as she smiles a thin, pursed lipped affectation and turns an open palm towards the stairs. "Be my guest."

"Mind if I take this?" he lifts the plate with the half-eaten burger on it to indicate what he's referring to and receives a brief shake of the head as permission. Smiling again, he turns and makes his way to the terrace.

Pastor Jeremy is a middle aged Asian man with black hair and glasses. He looks drained, like he hasn't slept in days, as do a number of the other people who have gathered. Colum draws some odd looks as he settles himself at one of the wire crosshatched tables. Raising his beer in response, he then brings it to his lips and takes a sip.

On the rooftop, the moon and stars shine brightly, the sky is clear and a gentle wind flows through the street. Colum counts about 40 to 50 people who have shown up for the meeting. Some of them standing at the back with disinterest, others grabbing as much food and drink as possible, and still some sitting at tables with friends while others are by themselves. Eventually Jeremy gets up to talk.

"Hello Everyone," the pastor states, drawing the attention of those who were mingling. Colum leans back in the hard chair and tilts the beer to his lips again. "I'm glad you could make it. Feel free to eat and drink as much as you'd like. It's on the Church's tab." Some laughter ensues, but the biker feels that even that is weak. Pastor Jeremy smiles weakly and continues.

"Now, as you've all come to know, there's been a few... disasters happening here lately. Bad things." The bespeckled man pauses and the Californian's deep set blue eyes scan the sullen faces of the gathered masses until the pastor's weary voice continues. "But, I've organized this today so that we can put a stop to it. So that we can go out and show these people what they're doing to themselves—to the community!".

He continues his rhetoric for about another minute, his eyes burning with a passionate fire though his body doesn't exude the same energy. "What can we do to fix this?" he practically roars, trying to incite the crowd. A few seconds, total silence. No one responds. Then someone raises their hand slowly and asks, "What about the stranger in white?"

Colum cranes his neck to see who the speaker is as a few groans break the silence that follows. Another voice tells him to shut up, and causes the speaker to turn in dismay and look about the room. It's an older man wearing a cardigan sweater with a Beatles t-shirt on underneath and a worn Blue Jays cap on his head. After a moment of disbelief at the community's response, he yells out over everybody, "I saw him! He has horns and he's stealing their souls! I swear it!"

People jump to their feet and a cacophony of protest erupts. Colum loses sight of the old man until he is hoisted past the biker yelling unintelligibly as he gets dragged downstairs. Watching him pass by, the Californian turns back to the crowd and quietly assesses their mood. A few people watch sympathetically as the crazy man (Colum here's the name Norman more than a few times from those yelling) is hauled off, but most of the crowd is telling him to "Stop wasting our time, you old nut!"

Once the hubbub settles, Pastor Jeremy smiles wearily and calls out, "Any other suggestions?"

Returning his steel-eyed gaze back to his burger, Colum decides he's not as hungry as he'd originally thought. Norman's outburst and claims have chilled his stomach, filling it with ice. Twenty-five hundred miles without anything to remind him of the horrors he'd left behind and now he rides into something that he can't ignore. If others are experiencing anything akin to that which he's had to deal with, well, it's the whole coincidence thing again. It just doesn't exist.

Pulling his cellphone from his leather jacket, the hunter pulls up the messaging app and thumbs in a quick message to Pastor Dominic: Came across something here. Guy claims to have seen a man dressed in white with horns stealing souls. Sound like anything?

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, the tattooed man hooks his beer by the neck again and turns to follow Norman down the stairs. He is determined to locate the old man and hear what he has to say.



Posted on 2016-10-24 at 10:47:26.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: More planning and possible relief for Casino's pain.


Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:09 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

"Working clubs as a bouncer, huh?" Murtaugh gruffly brings the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Got anyone who can back that up?"

Riggs stands up and motions his partner to follow him resulting in the older policeman stiffly rising from his plastic chair. "Stay put, Mr. Story."

The two cops walk about six meters away where Officer Riggs shows Officer Murtaugh his agent. The senior officer looks the screen over briefly before nodding and the two of them return to their seats.

"Tell me about Chan Wo, Mr. Story," Murtaugh orders quietly. "About six years ago? Ring a bell?"

"Of course," the wounded man growls. "I'm getting old, not dumb. So, what about it? I was cleared of all charges and you both know that already. So, why the interest? Am I being charged with something?"

"Just curious," Murtaugh shrugs and pulls at his bulletproof vest to situate it more comfortably. "Helluvah lot of identity theft going on these days. Making sure you are who you say you are."

"The blues on the street are finalizing the scene, Mr. Story," Riggs adds. "We'll know better if you're going to be charged when they're finished."

Emergency rooms are notorious for their long wait times and Night City Regional's is one of the worst. The waiting room consists of approximately ten meters by fifteen meters of polished tile flooring beneath a fifteen foot ceiling with recessed lighting. Thin steel pillars are spaced strategically throughout the chamber providing support as needed while barely obstructing the view. Two such pillars display holographic sign boards indicating wait time currently set at two hours, and the far right wall is essentially a television screen with a main show taking up the whole of it and six picture-in-picture screens (three on each side) showing alternate entertainment. The main screen is airing GNN's Abraham Hightower and Gina Sharon covering on-going news. One screen is showing cartoons, another a Latin soap opera, and the third on the left side of the wall is showing a fluff piece on Eli "Ramjet" Cooper of the embattled Night City Nomads rugby team. On the other side the screens are playing The Robot in My Bedroom which is a Desnai dramedy; Judge, Jury, and Executioner, a documentary on the notorious Sandman; and a public interest piece on contaminants in the water supplies being covered by a media personality Casino finds familiar, but can't recall her name.

To Casino's right, Murtaugh has settled back and is watching the entertainment obviously aware that they are due to be there a while, and to the solo's left, Riggs is reviewing information on his run-of-the-mill agent encased as it is in its durable black combat casing.

"Hey," Riggs says without looking up from his device. "Mr. Story. What'd this fellow look like who was airlifted by the AV?"

(OOC: Casino's answer.)

Officer Riggs enters the information into his handheld and then studies the screen a moment longer. "That was a Trauma Team AV, wasn't it Murtaugh?"

"Sure was," the older cop answers in a distracted tone.

"Anything more you can give me on the victim, Mr. Story?" Riggs looks up from his agent and raises his bushy eyebrows at the wounded solo.

(OOC: Casino's answer.)

"What's the injury?" a three foot tall vacuum-cleaner with a holographic round head displaying a smiley face on a round, yellow ball rolls up in front of the three men.

"Gunshot wound to the arm," Riggs explains.

"Would you like something for the pain?" the face turns into a wide-eyed expression of question complete with raised eyebrows.

(OOC: Casino's answer.)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie's Grill | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:28 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Within Maggie's Grill, Ghlahn, Blossom, Echo, and Bloodbank have been nursing their drinks for approximately twenty-minutes by the time Vegas and Fixer arrive.

"Where's your partner?" Blossom pokes the ice in her glass with her index finger and watches it bob up and down in the brown liquid Julieta had refilled moments earlier.

"We ran into a bit of a problem outside the Rat Pack," the Chairman look-alike fills the group in. "Casino got himself shot up pretty bad. He stayed behind to let the cops patch him up, while using his 'Casino Charm' to throw them off our scent while we proceed with the task we signed up for.

"Nice to see you too Doll."

"Chill," the wardriver replies. "You're not at all concerned about the integrity of our run, are you?"

"Well Doll," continued the dapper solo, "no need to worry your pretty little head about my concerns.

"We did manage to meet Starlight and get the hardware that Casino ordered. Fixer has all Casino's heavy duty firepower. I have the Taser. Starlight managed to get herself shot all to pieces, but she was airlifted out by her posse before the cops arrived to take Casino in for questioning. She will be wanting a report soon."

"Is he going to join us later, then? And Starlight—have you heard anything about her condition since you left her?" Echo asks, wondering how bad "shot up pretty bad" and "shot all to pieces" really was.

Blossom rolls the sucker to the other side of her mouth with her tongue and stares at the group's designated leader for a moment before saying, "Seeing how the gig's health affects all of us, I think worrying about one of the team being picked up by cops and our benefactor being ‘shot all to pieces' is more than just your concerns, Choomba."

(OOC: Vegas' response will determine whether Blossom continues to press.)

"All right," Bloodbank speaks up and leans forward over his drink after glancing about to make sure no one was within non-enhanced hearing range. "Here's the skinny,"

He proceeds to explain the setting of the Bartholomew School, the tenements nearby, the security as they could see it, and the only plan they'd come up with so far. When he finishes, he leans back and raises his eyebrows. "Any ideas?"

"Trail may get too cold by Monday," states the dapper solo, "and no telling where the kid is stashed. Santa is probably getting more fidgety by the hour. No telling who else has been employed to find the kid. I for one have been through too much tonight to let some other Choombas cut in on our action!" He looks each of the men in the eye, before continuing his one-sided conversation. "I want to hear what the Ladies have to say."

Vegas turns his attention to Blossom and Echo, foregoing any foreplay of flirtation. "Okay," he asks without his usual charm, "what course of action makes sense to you dolls?"

"The only thoughts I had was posing as students, which may not work because it's the weekend." Echo responds. "I asked Blossom to check for any activities the school might be having today, like a game or some junk, which might make it easier to get in. Another thought I just had is what about the sewer system or some other underground maint tunnels?"

She leans back and takes a sip of her cola.

"That's all I've got, choomba. You have any bright ideas?"

"Private schools," Blossom audibly pops the sucker from her mouth and points it towards the pretty nomad. "They focus more on academics than sports. There's a swim meet being held in the Central Valley Integrate, but that's it. Nothin' for nothin' on campus.

"I also pulled up a map from the Dark on the sewers in this part of the Integrate," the netrunner twirls her candy about in the air like a wand, "magical-like. There's a central access tunnel that runs under the southeast corner. Looks like there could be a manhole if the data is still right. Don't know what kind of security."

The tiny platinum blonde Asian places her agent on the table and activates the holoprojector at the top, bringing up a 3-dimensional map that hovers approximately ten centimeters over the devices in a ball of transparent tunnels and the bottoms of wireframed buildings twenty centimeters in diameter.

"That's about three blocks back the way we just came," she points to a position on the ball that shows what appears to be street access to the tunnels. "Middle of the street, pretty out in the open, but it'd be our closest way down. See here?" she traces a line down the tunnels and then waves the ball into motion moving it along the correct path until reaching the portion of the map she wants. A quick move results in the map stopping and she once again uses her lollipop to point out the next street level access point. "That's the one that opens up in the compound."

"What kind of security do you think is down there?" Bloodbank queries. "And traffic is still heavy enough from what I saw that it begs the question, how do we get down in the first place?"

(OOC: Ideas?)

Posted on 2016-10-24 at 09:50:01.

 


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