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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Dinner conversation and a peek into Tesenblen's departure.

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 5; "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 16:13

Leah gives a mischievous grin, "One ginger ale coming up... Captain." With that, she twirls about on her heel and flits away from their table once more.

Drake shakes his head and offers a rueful grin. "That woman knows full well that I have to consciously think about not being so formal in here... and so she makes it a point to never use my name. I think that she must be in league with Riva—I don't get an ounce of respect from either of them."

Having witnessed (and, on a several occasions, experienced) interactions with the Captain's Yeoman first-hand, Tochi chuckles. "They'll mutiny before long, we're sure," he jokes. Asovil notes the XO's mirth and tentatively smiles as well, though she isn't sure as to what the joke is.

Focusing on his companions, Drake continues. "Now then, while I could share the contributing factors behind my behavior this afternoon, I do not wish to come across as making excuses. Lieutenant... er, Asovil—please accept my sincere apologies for slighting you earlier. While I am certain that Tochi has already done so, please allow me to formally welcome you aboard the Peregrine." The Captain extends his hand,

The Trill nods silent confirmation of Silas' assumption but offers little else, at the moment. Rather, he simply sits and watches with some amusement as the apparently awestruck Science Officer gets her first "true" introduction to Captain Drake. She blinks at Silas' proffered hand for an instant before clasping it with her own, "Thank you, Captain."

"Please bear with us," Silas continues. "In the last twenty-four hours, literally every department head outside of Tochi has been replaced—some under some very odd circumstances. As a scientist, I would wager that you likely share my lack of confidence in multiple coincidences... though I suppose that is neither here nor there. Regardless, we'll get you fully briefed and up to speed—please let me know if you need anything to get settled in, or if your department is lacking anything."

Tochi offers another nod of silent validation, here, his gaze slips away from the Captain and the new CSO to regard Leah as she glides back toward their table, drinks in hand.

"That's very kind of you, sir," Asovil acknowledges.

Wordlessly, Leah places the Captain's ginger ale on the table, followed by Tochi's refreshed ice-berry juice, and then, with a wink and a smile, takes her leave, once more. Silas lifts his glass and indulges in a sip before continuing.

"If the tales I hear are correct," Silas says, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, "I understand that you made quite an entrance today,"

A somewhat sheepish grin creeps across Tochi's lips, then, his green-gold eyes flitting between Asovil and Silas. "That might have been our fault," he chuckles softly, lifting his own glass, now. Asovil's flat azure gaze indicates that though she has apparently forgiven him, she hasn't forgotten.

",If nothing else, I imagine that this will go down in your career as a rather memorable first day."

"I wish I could say that this afternoon's circumstances were the most embarrassing I've experienced, sir. But then," she tentatively tries out a toothy smile. "I couldn't be so lucky."

For whatever reason, Tochi's mind chooses to entertain him with an imagining of Asovil diving through the hatch and onto Peregrine's deck with her pants around her ankles; a mash-up of her frenzied arrival to the ship and the story she had just related moments ago. The thought, of course, prompts him to start to chuckle, again, but, with the glass tipped to his lips and being mid-swallow, it escapes him as more of a choking sound. The glass is quickly returned to the table and, just as quickly, a hand clapped over his mouth before the reaction can evolve into a full spit-take. Having managed to choke down that mouthful of juice, Tochi chuckles behind the hand for another second and, then, offers a rueful shrug and a knowing glance to Asovil as Silas, rather abruptly, rises from his seat, drink in hand. The Andorian woman's eyebrows rise slightly at his antics, but she believes she knows why he's finding the conversation so humorous and cannot deny him the laugh. After all, she had been the one to share the other experience with him.

"Well, I don't want to distract from your conversation too much," the Captain says, "Again, welcome aboard, Asovil."

Wiping his hand with a napkin, Tochi gets to his feet in concert with Asovil (though, again, not quite as rapidly as she).

"Thank you, sir," Asovil says as Tochi nods a friendly farewell before Silas turns to go.

"Ah, yes," the Captain only gets a step or two away before stopping and turning back to them, "there is one more thing. If either of you are available, we will be having a reception in the Captain's Mess for our diplomats this evening at nineteen hundred hours. All department heads are invited—though not required—to attend. So if terribly polite conversation and native cuisine from the Rytain and Kuldar peoples sounds enticing, by all means, please feel welcome."

"We'll be there with proverbial bells on, sir," Tochi replies, returning Silas' toast with a tip of his own glass. He glances sidelong at the mystified Andorian as the Captain strolls away, and then sinks back into his seat just ahead of Asovil retaking hers.

"Captain Drake doesn't appear to be the social sort," the lovely scientist concludes, settling into her chair and taking up her utensils, "But that was kind of him."

"He has his moments," Tochi smiles before sipping at his juice while relaxing in his chair and considering Asovil with an indecipherable look on his roguish face.

"Now," she says, fixing him with a demanding gaze, "About Dirven,"

Tochi's face lights up with a smile tinged with reminiscence and, perhaps, a bit of embarrassment, as well. "Ah, yes," he chuckles softly, "Dirven," His eyes dip to study the ice cubes bobbing on the surface of his beverage for a second and, then, he lifts the glass and takes a sip before going on, ",where even to begin with Dirven?"

He seems to seriously ponder his own question for a moment before deciding on the best, most obvious starting point. "Dirven was our third host," Zai begins, the smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes taking on a notably roguish cast as his mind sorts through those old memories, "A musician by profession and more than a little bit the scoundrel.

Some of our best memories of Risa are his," he continues, perhaps blushing a little, "He was something of a playboy, we imagine that's probably the best way to describe him, and, we suppose, too, that's the way musicians of his caliber often were, in those days, and, as such, was caught with his pants around his ankles more than a few times."

Asovil has never been to Risa, but has definitely heard the tales. She considers the sudden flush of Tochi's cheeks as indication that there are many of the same sort of sordid stories floating around his mind as those which she has heard from various personnel she's interacted with in Starfleet. Risa's pleasure cruises, Risa's famous spas, Risa's massages, the list of "Oh, I've heard about" Risa experiences is long and most aren't appropriate for polite conversation.

Tochi blinks and offers a shake of his head accompanied by a decidedly nervous chuckle. He steals a quick sip of his beverage and looks down at the table for a moment before continuing. Having not witnessed this behavior in the lieutenant before, Asovil narrows her eyes just a bit in study. What's going on in that head of yours, Tochi Zai? she thinks suspiciously.

"Anyway," he grins (colored more sheepish than wicked, now), having feigned a surveillance of the room before letting his gaze frame her, once more, "What, were we saying?"

"You were speaking about Dirven's auspicious Risa memories and playboy mannerisms," Asovil reminds him without so much as a hesitation. Forking a cooling piece of chicken into her mouth, the Andorian puts a hand up to cover her lips as she speaks around the food, the thought just popping into her head. "We are to wear bells to the reception tonight?"

(OOC: Tag, yes, Asovil is that oblivious when it comes to male behavior.)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42135.5)
USS Peregrine - Deck 4; Science Lab 1- 10:13

Chirp went the door chime. Ensign Dalia Maize feels a momentary annoyance at the sharp distraction from her biochemical analysis of protein conductivity between species DNA or RNA. The open nature of Federation medical studies has opened many a door into the passage of disease from one organism to another resulting in many past theories being debunked and new theories born. Newly introduced DNA from a species of bovine found on Icor X found spontaneously propagating PrPSc molecules that resist thermodynamic nucleation, mutating to not only endure the treatment, but to thrive within it. This discover met immediate concern within Starfleet's Sciences Division and a committee was formed. Lieutenant Tesenblen had received a request from Dr. Maddock Spangler within the Division's representatives on the newly originated project asking him to head up a portion of the research. Ensign Maize received orders to take on the brunt of the work three weeks prior and, frustratingly enough, has found nothing to counter the stimulus effect of the nucleation.

"Ensign Maize?"

With a heavy sigh, Dalia turns away from the conn screen to look askance of the unfamiliar gold-shirted man whose question interrupts her work. He's a tall sort, broad in the shoulders with a craggy face and a shaved head that gives him the look of a bald eagle. With him are three additional security personnel, all of them men with varying degrees of brute worn proudly in their countenances.

"Yes—" she pauses to register his rank. "—Chief?"

"I'm asking you to step away from the conn," he points to a space near the door his team had just entered through. "You can stand here while we conduct our business."

"What business are you referring to, Chief?" Dalia's brow furrows and she slides from her chair while gripping the back with her left hand.

"I'm afraid that's classified," floats the reply.

"So are half of the projects in this lab, Chief." Ensign Maize feels her heart start to beat faster and her stomach turn, a sure sign that she's not relishing the coming conflict, but positive that it's unavoidable. "I'm afraid you're going to have to see Lt. Tesenblen before you can have access to anything."

The man raises his eyebrows and peers down that beak of a nose with superiority. "Lt. Tesenblen is well aware of the situation, Ensign. Now, please step aside."

"I'll see for myself, Chief," Dalia responds with a tremor in her voice and a frown on her face. Striking her badge, she calls, "Lt. Tesenblen, this is Ensign Maize. Are you available?"

The chief motions his men forward and the three immediate and aggressively stride towards the small scientist. Panic sets in and Dalia taps her badge again, "Lt. Tesenblen!"

"Remove her from the lab," the chief orders harshly. "You. Take her into the office there and make sure she doesn't touch anything. And remove her badge for the time being. We don't need her muddying the waters by calling whomever she pleases."

The sound that escapes Dalia's lips upon feeling the steel grip of the security crewman upon her bicep is almost a squeal. She's easily guided past the other two gold-collared crewmen and walked towards Tesenblen's office.

"What's going on? This isn't right!" she cries out, wincing a little as the grip tightens.

"This could have gone much easier for you, Ensign," the chief states calmly as she passes by. "Do yourself a favor and sit quietly for a bit. We'll be out of your hair shortly."

Dalia Maize is the type of person who finds tears welling up in her purple-colored eyes when she grows angry. Rage Crying, she calls it, but it is nonetheless an embarrassment to her. Especially in her capacity as the assistant head of the department. Thrust towards the chairs in front of the desk, Dalia feels tears start to form as her offense at the way she's being treated grows. Spinning about so that her ponytail stings her flushed cheeks, the ensign grips the back of the chair behind her with both white knuckled hands and stares violet daggers at her captor. Gritting her teeth, she feels the first of the tears roll down her right cheek further enraging her. He shows some decency by holding out his hand for her badge instead of tearing it from her chest. Slowly, deliberately, she removes the device and places it in his outstretched hand.

"Does Captain Drake know what you're doing?" she demands, wiping the tear away with a jerk of her hand across her cheek. The barrel-chested man stares blankly at her as though not understanding what she's asking. Pursing her lips, Dalia deliberately looks away from him and studies the artistic rendering of some of the rarer Terran plants that her boss takes an interest in. Where is he? she wonders furiously. Another tear tumbles down her left cheek. This time, she ignores it.

"At least you can tell me how long this is going to take," she argues while still staring emptily at the picture. Again, he doesn't reply. Turning to face him once more, Dalia swallows and studies his face. I haven't seen this one before, she concludes. I'd remember that mole. He's got to be from the starbase. Either that, or he's new in security. But what would security be doing in the lab? Images of the new plant Lt. Tesenblen had brought aboard and the previous night's discussion about securing the specimen come to mind in answer to her questions. But that's in Lab 3, not here. Turning her gaze back to the picture on the wall she wonders, What have you done Horatio?

Forever might be a theoretical space of time, but Dalia feels that she can certainly add credence to the theory while waiting on the base security team to do what they needed to do in the lab. She's not sure how long she waits. The office door slides open and the chief enters with an additional three security personnel who hadn't been with him when she had been relegated to Tesenblen's office. A anti-grav-sled hovered between two of them with two large storage crates on the flat bed.

"Everything that's not secured to the bulkhead or floor, boys," the chief instructs his team. Looking directly at her tear-stained face, he tells her, "Stay out of their way, Ensign Maize. This will be over soon."

Lifting her head defiantly, Dalia doesn't respond. There's nothing for her to say. She's surrounded by base security personnel who obviously have no qualms about manhandling her and at five three and barely a hundred pounds, she knows there's not a thing she can do about the situation.

"Good," the chief steps back through the door and the ensign looks past him to where the other two men who had first arrived with the bullish man are working at the conns.

The next few minutes consist of the three additional personnel stripping the office of everything; pictures on the walls, desktop accouterments, random decorations, personal items, and even the PADD that Horatio kept on the desk. All of these items are placed in the crates until they are stock full and the office is bare. The crates are closed and sealed, and the team takes their impersonal leave of the chamber, the anti-grav-sled being towed behind them. Peering past them as the door opens again, Dalia witnesses the chief in conversation with one of the crewmen who had been operating a conn. Then, the chief looks her way and their eyes meet for a moment before the door slides shut.

Scanning the office that had once been an extension of Lt. Horatio Tesenblen, Dalia feels the anger begin to subside, overtaken by confusion and hurt. With these emotions she can control the waterworks. The last time she cried because of emotional pain was a few weeks after her parents' death. Experiences such as that harden a person. She has been told by the Starfleet counselor she'd seen some time after the loss that her body's way of coping with the close off emotions is to perform Rage Crying. For her part, Dalia doesn't believe that nonsense. Psychology is a soft science, and the ensign is a disciple of hard science. Besides, she's been Rage Crying since she was a little girl growing up on Starbase 833.

A familiar chirp sounds again just as the door to the office opens admitting the chief. Pointing to the chair, he moves towards the desk. "Have a seat, Ensign Maize."

"I prefer to stand—"

"That wasn't a request, Ensign." His trajectory takes him around the desk to sit in Horatio's chair. "Sit down."

She complies if reluctantly, and shows her disagreement by making her motions stiff and hard while keeping her jaw clenched. The chief leans forward and laces his fingers on the desk before him.

"This is how this is going to work," he says as though reciting a regulation. "I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them. You're going to cooperate, or you'll be joining us back on the base for further interrogation. Do I make myself clear?"

Still clenching her teeth, Dalia nods once.

"Good," he replies and abruptly sets into the questions.

The interrogation session lasts fifteen-, maybe twenty-minutes before the chief seems satisfied and rises from the chair. The questions he had asked had all been regarding Tesenblen's activities, her involvement in experiments, her knowledge of projects and ways Horatio had gathered his specimens. Not once did they dig into her past, or her affiliations, and never were they directed at any of the projects she headed up. It is very apparent to the ensign that Horatio Tesenblen is being hunted, and by the time the chief finishes, she is experiencing a severe dislike for the man, and a distrust for all security personnel.

"We're through here, Ensign," the chief informs her. "You'll remain in this office for the next twenty-minutes. There's a security protocol on place keeping you from accessing the computer, or communicating except in a situation of emergency during that time. Your badge will be on the table in the lab when the protocol ends. I suggest you make yourself comfortable."

Fuming, scared, confused, and worried sick about the kind, affable Horatio, Dalia Maize watches helplessly as the room empties of base security and the door closes behind them.

Posted on 2016-09-01 at 13:04:28.
Edited on 2016-09-01 at 13:05:01 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Loving the posts thus far...

Tann, you're going to want to edit your post. As Vesper says, there's no blood. The armor wasn't even pierced.

Where's my HIgh City team?

Posted on 2016-09-01 at 10:45:06.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: LOL

I often listen to comedy channels on the XM during my 45-1.25 hour commute into work. I did so this morning, as a matter-of-fact. Reading that song was the first time I chuckled today.

Posted on 2016-09-01 at 10:40:28.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: We have 61 crewmen and woman.

Just offering the count incase anyone was wondering.

Posted on 2016-08-31 at 21:03:13.

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

So, that was a brief visit from El Capitan! Brief, but appreciated.

Looking forward to the partay!

Posted on 2016-08-31 at 13:26:41.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Meeting the Cap'n...

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge, "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 1613

Tochi slowly shook his head as the Andorian, her antennae shrinking backward a bit in embarrassment, drops her fork on the edge of her plate and reaches for her ale. His hand still covers the lower portion of his face, but the sparkle in his eyes betray the grin behind it.

"Not my finest moment," she admits before taking a sip. "Funny though. That story has allowed me to break the ice with every Starfleet bunkmate I've had."

"We can't imagine why," Tochi snickers, the hand masking his grin falling away from his face to clasp the other that rests on the table before him. "That, Asovil, has got to be one of the better tales that we've heard in quite some time, and you said you couldn't top ours," Still chuckling softly, Zai leans back in his own seat again, eyes twinkling. "We think, in exchange for that one, we'll have to share some of Dirven's stories."

I hope that Dirven can be more embarrassing than me, Asovil leans forward to reply with grateful interest when Leah slides gracefully up to the table. Her smile bright and friendly as her eyes dance between the Trill and the Andorian, she asks. "Still doing all right, over here, luvs? Another one for you, Tochi?"

"Please," Tochi nods, reaching out to slide the glass within easy reach. He gestures at the remains of his meal. "We're finished with this, also. It was delicious, as always. Thank you."

"Well, of course it was," Leah chirps as she gathers up his plate in one hand and his glass in the other, "it's my recipe, then, innit?"

"It is at that," Tochi nods, his eyes turning back to his dinner companion, then. "Anything else for you, Lieutenant," he asks and Asovil shakes her head.

"No. I believe that I'm going to pass on the dessert as well, Leera."

"It's Leah, deary," the hostess smiles broadly and winks. "Did ya enjoy the meal?"

"Oh, yes!" Asovil remarks, her antennae emphasizing her enthusiasm while her cheeks flush a darker blue with a rush of blood at having called the woman by the wrong name. "It was delectable."

"Good," Leah spins away and glances over her shoulder as he makes her way back towards the bar. "You should try the duck next time."

The Andorian scientist presses her lips together in thought. What's a duck? she wonders, and then with a slight shake of her head, places the mug of ale on the table and retrieves her knife and fork.

"I'd very much like to hear more about," Mouth slightly agape, the science officer is caught off guard by the sight of Captain Silas Drake approaching from the door. Quickly setting her utensils back on the edge of her plate, she sits up straight and quickly (if somewhat unconsciously) brushes her hair behind her right ear with the first three fingers on her dainty right hand.

"Lieu... er... Tochi and... Asovil, is it?" Captain Drake fumbles a gesture towards an empty chair. "Would you mind if I joined you for a moment?"

"Not at all, Captain," Lt. Sh'iraolnas pushes her own chair out with her legs and rises, pulling downward on the waist of her uniform. "Please."

Drake pulls up a chair and arches an eyebrow at the food. "A bit early for dinner, isn't it?" he asks in a bit of a playful tone.

Now that the captain is seated, Asovil returns to her chair and scoots it in. Glancing uncertainly towards Tochi, the scientist shrugs. "I suppose under normal circumstances,"

Leah chooses that moment to appear and save the flustered Andorian woman from feeling it necessary to explain further. "And what would you be having, Captain?" the hostess asks with a genuine smile.

Silas returns the expression causing Asovil to surmise that he isn't so severe looking when he does so. "I haven't quite worked up an appetite of my own yet, Leah... a ginger ale will do just fine for now, please. And in here, you may call me 'Silas'."

Leah gives a mischievous grin, "One ginger ale coming up... Captain." With that, she twirls about on her heel and flits away from their table once more.

Drake shakes his head and offers a rueful grin. "That woman knows full well that I have to consciously think about not being so formal in here... and so she makes it a point to never use my name. I think that she must be in league with Riva—I don't get an ounce of respect from either of them."

Is Riva his daughter? His wife, maybe? Asovil considers the possibilities. She's not considered what it would be like to be the wife of a starship captain since she was a little girl. She doesn't imagine being married to a man with such a temper would be dull. The color nearly returns to her cheeks as she considers the possible conflicts between a strong-willed captain and a combative Andorian female.

Focusing on his companions, Drake continues. "Now then, while I could share the contributing factors behind my behavior this afternoon, I do not wish to come across as making excuses. Lieutenant... er, Asovil—please accept my sincere apologies for slighting you earlier. While I am certain that Tochi has already done so, please allow me to formally welcome you aboard the Peregrine." The Captain extends his hand.

Caught off-guard by the awkwardness of the gesture, the Andorian woman looks at the hand for the briefest of moments before startling herself into conscious response and clasping his much larger hand with hers. "Thank you, Captain," Asovil remarks with a dry mouth, forgetting herself and maintaining formality.

"Please bear with us," he continues. "In the last twenty-four hours, literally every department head outside of Tochi has been replaced—some under some very odd circumstances. As a scientist, I would wager that you likely share my lack of confidence in multiple coincidences... though I suppose that is neither here nor there. Regardless, we'll get you fully briefed and up to speed—please let me know if you need anything to get settled in, or if your department is lacking anything."

"That's very kind of you, sir," Asovil acknowledges. Should I bring up the situation with Chief Crane, or wait for the formal briefing? The Andorian hesitation presents Leah with the opportunity to sidle up next to the captain and place his drink before him.

He takes a sip before letting a grin play at the corner of his lips. "If the tales I hear are correct, I understand that you made quite an entrance today. If nothing else, I imagine that this will go down in your career as a rather memorable first day."

"I wish I could say that this afternoon's circumstances were the most embarrassing I've experienced, sir. But then," she tentatively tries out a toothy smile. "I couldn't be so lucky."

Silas rather abruptly stands, drink in hand, giving the scientist reason to immediately and hastily rise from her chair. "Well, I don't want to distract from your conversation too much. Again, welcome aboard, Asovil."

"Thank you, sir."

The Captain takes a step, then stops and turns back. "Ah, yes... there is one more thing. If either of you are available, we will be having a reception in the Captain's Mess for our diplomats this evening at nineteen hundred hours. All department heads are invited—though not required—to attend. So if terribly polite conversation and native cuisine from the Rytain and Kuldar peoples sounds enticing, by all means, please feel welcome." The captain raises his glass in a final toast, then walks away leaving the Andorian woman standing with a perplexed expression on her beautiful face.

"Captain Drake doesn't appear to be the social sort," she concludes out lout while sliding nimbly into her chair and taking up her utensils once again. "But that was kind of him."

"Now," Asovil addresses Tochi with a stern stare. "About Dirven,"

(OOC: Tag!)

Posted on 2016-08-31 at 12:59:04.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I Totes Fergot!

Asovil didn't make mention that she would absolutely enjoy learning how to fence-build.

Booboo, I prefer PayPal.

Posted on 2016-08-29 at 22:54:23.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Shame on you!

I've updated all of the logbook entrys with the characters I've either possessed or are in control of. The rest of the logbook entries are up to you all!

Posted on 2016-08-29 at 18:19:49.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Looking forward to the Drake post...

Eol! Tag! You're it.

I've removed Toriak (whose name I have been mispelling) from the mix altogether now by having him return to his records work.

I'm thinking of having a kind of "encounter" between either Science or Security and one of the Ambassadors. If I do, it will be a couple of hours before our current timestamp, or just after they leave the bridge.

I'm also working at bringing the Logbook up to date.

Posted on 2016-08-29 at 17:48:05.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Update. Tag! You're it!

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge, "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 1611

"Somehow, we find that hard to believe," Tochi Zai chuckles, reaching for his glass. "Every life story, in some way or another, is a light in the dark of the void, Asovil." He tips the glass to his lips, draining the remains of the beverage and, as he returns the glass to the table, the Trill offers a wry grin. "Trust us; we've got five," he winks. "We know beyond a certainty that yours shines as brightly as any."

The Andorian woman drops back against the rest of her chair, her fork still sticks from the remainder of the chicken breast, her turquoise eyes slightly hooded as she regards her XO with the hint of a smile on her full lips. Was that flirting? Did he just flirt with me?

"That," she chews for a second on her bottom lip. "Is pure unproven theory, Tochi. For all you know I am a drab, boring scientist. However, for the sake of continued conversation, I will share with you an experience of mine from the Imperial Academy.

"I was nineteen cycles by the time I made the decision to leave further scientific pursuits through the School of Science and Arts. To be accepted into the Imperial Academy, and to eventually serve in the Imperial Guard, that's an honor for the recipient and the recipient's family. One would expect such a duty to fall on the eldest child, but my brothers had no such desire. So, it was left up to me.

"I wasn't there for more than a month before I received my first dressing down. I've since come to appreciate just how impactful it was in my career, but at the time, I was mortified.

"Zero four-thirty and I've just woken up to prepare for the day when the barrack doors burst open. It's a raid—another ship ransacks your ship and attempts to take the Regalust, which is a trophy made of crystal representing the actual starship your training ship is named after. These cadets are flowing into the dark quarters like water through a cracked ice dam and skirmishes are breaking out all over.

"I am a modest sort," she smiles and shakes her head sadly at the memory. "So, I struggle to get my jumpsuit on and am knocked unconscious while focusing on getting my feet into the leggings. I wake up with my Master Chief standing over me, furious. He hauls me to my feet—mind you, I still had my jumpsuit around my ankles—and yells at me, telling me I was dead." Asovil adopts a mock gravel-filled voice and snarls, "You're dead, Crewman First Class Sh'iraolnas, and for what? Your vanity? You're dead, your shipmates are dead, and you have your pants around your ankles to show for it!"

Looking up from beneath her long lashes at the XO she suddenly adds, "Don't get the wrong idea! My underclothing wasn't immodest in and of itself—Imperial Guard Issue, I assure you. Still, the thought of my underclothing being revealed was, at the time, very embarrassing. I was a young girl, mind you.

"In any case, I spent the next forty-eight hours performing every task with my jumpsuit around my ankles wearing that tank top and those shorts until our ship was able to successfully perform a raid that returned the Regalust to its rightful place above the Chief's door."

Dropping the fork on the edge of her plate, she reaches for the Andorian Ale, her antennae shrinking backward a bit in embarrassment. "Not my finest moment," she admits before taking a sip. "Funny though. That story has allowed me to break the ice with every Starfleet bunkmate I've had."

(OOC: Continue, interrupt, whatever happens next!)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1605

Crewman Toriak steps away from the console as Petty Officer 2nd Class Peter Adama moved in hastily to take over duties he should have been performing to begin with. Toriak isn't in the least bit offended. He prefers the task of record keeping, scheduling personnel appointments, making certain that the details are correct and that nothing is missed. Though his training is primarily technical and administrative, he has elected to educate himself on certain scanning procedures, the reading of charts, and other variable tasks that make him more valuable to the department and the ship on a whole.

"If you need anything," he says quietly to the flustered Adama. "Do not hesitate to ask."

Turning from the task of monitoring Bachmann, Toriak calmly avoids interaction with the newly arrived engineer, deftly removes himself from the immediate vicinity of the obviously agitated Petty Officer Cook, and returns to the desk from which he had been working when Adama had first asked him to cover. Sliding into the swivel chair, the Vulcan calls up his paused work and returns to annotating the ship's medical files with information from various databases throughout Starfleet and the Federation. New viruses and bacteria are reported all the time by away teams encountering new and alien substructures. One of the detail-oriented yeoman's duties is to keep the department updated on all new found contagions, and it is something he takes very seriously.

Posted on 2016-08-29 at 17:43:40.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: So sorry...

I apologize for not contributing to the game this weekend. My home has been turned into a hotel for family from out of town and we have been engaged in familial activities all weekend. I'll be posting tomorrow for certain though, so ready yourselves!

Booboo, I draw all of my creative energy from Eol. I had a shunt installed into the back of his head while he was sleeping some time ago and collect jars of the stuff for storage. The going street value is high, but I can get you a discounted price since you're a shipmate.

Posted on 2016-08-29 at 00:25:17.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Great post!

Nice post for Fixer. Quick too.

Everyone, feel free to post actions. You can coordinate conversations here if you'd like, but whatever discussion takes place here has to be reflected in game amongst the characters.

Posted on 2016-08-29 at 00:17:31.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Sounds good.

All righty, then. I'll happily continue.

You are all on the same timestamp now. Any questions? Feel free to ask.

Posted on 2016-08-28 at 17:30:03.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: Catching the two sides up...

Outside The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:39 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)


"Get down!!!" Fixer yells into the night air and immediately dives away from the resounding gunfire. He is impacted heavily in his right leg, pain tearing through the limb spinning his body and dropping him to the wet cement flat on his back.

Reflexes boosted, Vegas slides sideways, rotates about, and returns fire with his Mach II spitting retaliation. His retaliation is half-hearted, his attention really focusing on protecting Starlight.

His head and body moving on instinct, Casino falls to his knees, spinning, and tearing his MPK free from the cover of his trench coat.

Dull thuds of full metal jackets impacting cement and whistling rounds flying past their heads accompanying the orchestra of violence unleashed on the rain soaked streets of the Night City Integrate. There's one sound that is definitely out of sync, and it's Vegas who can pick out the deficit.

Fixer's Uzi burns through half the rounds in his magazine, the hot lead cutting through the storm water to riddle the driver and rear door of the passing vehicle. Casino's move puts him out of harms way, and as his weapon unloads into the driver's window and door--thirty rounds of armor piercing rounds--he receives some satisfaction as the pimped out car swerves to the right, smashing into the parked cars on the shoulder, scraping along and spitting sparks, before rebounding into oncoming traffic and crashing headlong into a van with a mighty impact.

The return fire that Vegas sends after their attackers hits the hood and shatters the windshield, but the more important matter is the realization that Starlight has been hit!

The booster's car is buried in the front half of the van, and if anyone in the front seats of either vehicle survived the accident, it would be surprising.


Maintenance Tunnels | Night City Integrate | Midcity into High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:29 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)


"Chika," Echo says with a grin to the pretty netrunner as she hurries through the door. "You have the gift for sure. Can you scramble the lock from the inside, you know, change the code so they can't follow us or some such? Or, should we just blow the controls?" she says with a wink, indicating her weapon.

Bloodbank and Ghlahn slip through the door right on their heels. "No sense locking it," Ghlahn informs them. "They can probably override it. Blast the lock and let's get going. I don't care where a long as it isn't here."

"We need to get out of here, fast!" Bloodbank adds. He He levels his .44 at the electronic lock of the door and pulls the trigger. The report of his now smoking weapon echoes throughout the lonely maintenance tunnel, and before the harsh sound has faded away the med-tech is ushering his companions down the passageway.

The rather neglected looking tunnel split off into a T-intersection in front of them. There was only one obvious path to take, and that was left; away from the platform that must have been in a horrid state of disarray. That was the way they all turned, and it wasn't until they were several more turns and a good distance away from the platform that they began to slow down.

"That was a frackin' disaster." The med-tech murmurs, holstering his weapon asd slipping the thumb break back over the weapons hammer while pulling his battlemask off. No smile alights his face as he stops and leans against one of the brick walls to catch his breath. He glances at each member of the group, with his eyes finally resting on Ghlahn.

"Don't give me that look," Ghlahn commands from behind his own battlemask. "I did what needed doing. Besides, that construct of hers wasn't there to play with them either. We all do our job and we all live."

The medic let's out a sigh, "Great job with the lock." he says, trying to keep his voice even while he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Any longer out there and I doubt we would have made it. Now, is it possible for you to pull up a map of these tunnels? I don't want to be in here any longer than possible."

"Got five minutes in your back pocket?" Blossom answers without her usual cheeriness. "Without having access to a municipal building, I can't wardrive for schematics and given time, I could possibly find some plans somewhere on the Dark Net.

"Let's keep moving. I'll set my agent to searching for that map."

Pointing further down the tunnel the way they were heading, the small netrunner begins to walk while retrieving her agent from her coat pocket.

(OOC: Assuming everyone follows,)

Portions of the maintenance tunnels are flooded with about an inch of water, and some areas are dank and moldy, but show no standing water. The lighting is just as sporadic and the group finds stretches of tunnel without light, resorting to the flashlights on their agents to pass through. Rats, stray cats, and the odd lizard are also present, but aside from those animals, the edgerunners encounter no additional lifeforms.

"The search came up with nothing," Blossom informs everyone with disappointment. It's been some time since leaving the door disabled and running blindly into the tunnels--tunnels that could leave everyone trapped for miles and miles beneath the integrate. "I guess the security company over this particular assignment are pretty thorough."

(OOC: Assuming everyone votes to continue,)

More minutes pass, and then the first hope of exiting the tunnels presents itself. The tunnel leads straight into another T-intersection. Directly at the midpoint of the T a door has been set into the wall. This door is a solid metal fire door, chipped, dented, and scratched across its entire surface. The handle is similar to the previous doors encountered along the way with a keycard lock device and an L-shaped steel handle. Painted above the door in red lettering is the word "EXIT," scarred and worn though it may be, it is plain as day. To the left of the door, encased in a cage at approximately two and a half meters from the floor is a sickly yellow light the plastic case showing the shadowed silhouettes of dead insect bodies encased within.

Posted on 2016-08-28 at 17:23:32.
Edited on 2016-09-01 at 21:24:26 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: More goodness!

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge, "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 1610

"Please," Tochi dismisses her contrite shrug with the wave of a hand and a warm smile, "most people tend to avoid the topic as if it's somehow off limits. It's not. Being joined isn't some big secret that we try to hide, you know? It's simply who we are."

The Trill pauses for a moment, takes up his glass, and sips. Asovil glances away from him and quietly chews, giving him the opportunity to gather his thoughts while her flitting attention darts from one table to another. A very small group of people were gathered about one table in particular where a game of chess is underway. The Andorian woman watches the skill in which the players open the game until the XO continues speaking.

"I was actually only supposed to be a temporary host." Grinning, Tochi sets the glass on the table resulting in a barely audible clink as the two materials connect. Looking back to her dinner companion, Asovil notes his conversational position. Do I put my utensils down and stop eating? She wonders. Terrans speak throughout their meals and continue eating, but do Trills? Not sure how to proceed, Lt. Sh'iraolnas sits somewhat awkwardly with her fork and knife in hand while outwardly presenting a very interested countenance hanging on Lt. Zai's every word.

"Eleven years ago," he continues. "I was Ensign Tochi Tigen; Assistant Flight Control Officer aboard the USS Perseus. I'd only been in the post for a few months and it had taken me a long time to get there, but I was sure that I had my life as close to what I'd ever imagined it to be. I was seeing the universe, piloting some of the galaxy's finest ships, and having fun." His shrug and smile seem almost boyish to her as though she is witnessing a glimpse into a younger Tochi Zai then and there. "I was twenty-one years old and never once in those twenty-one years had I entertained the notion of being joined. My youngest sister, Myrri, she dreamed about it, studied and trained for it, and submitted her application to the Commission for it. Me?.." He chuckles softly and shrugs again, perhaps derisively, perhaps at the irony of what he'd just shared. "I was too busy fencing, and flying, and fooling around to bother with any of that,"

"Oh!" Asovil sits up straighter and raises her brows in surprised delight. "I've heard of this ‘fence-building' before. You use a long, very thin weapon that you poke into your opponent for points, no?"

(OOC: A nod, a correction, some response,)

"I, too, am adept in martial sports," she leans forward, silverware still in hand. "Though, I am adept at hand-to-hand combat as well as the chaka and the ushaan-tor and have not yet tried the foiled that is used in your sport."

(OOC: Something further from Tochi,)

Lt. Zai's return to his food answers Asovil's internal struggle as to what is correct manners during dinner conversation with a Trill, and she returns to her meal by stabbing the salad with her fork.

"Anyway," Zai says, taking up his glass and relaxing back into his seat. "I'm serving on the Perseus, standard kind of day aboard a Nova-Class, and we pick up a distress call from a transport that had experienced a catastrophic failure of their deflector grid. The Captain orders us to respond, of course, so we intercept the transport and get the passengers and crew evacuated before the thing is pounded into so much space-dust, We've never seen so much blood, before or since," The Trill sighs and paused long enough to indulge in a sip of his beverage. The Andorian woman notices the shiver her companion issues, but chooses not to call attention to it. The tale thus far has been riveting, and she isn't inclined to interrupt at this point.

"There were several dead," he continues, trying to conceal the shiver in a shrug. "Most of the rest were injured, a good deal of them critically. In the end, of the eighty-six people on that transport, only thirty-two survived that day, and we are one of them."

There is an undefinable quality—some sort of enigmatic duality, perhaps—to the smile that plays on Tochi's lips as he relegates his glass to the table and leans in. "You asked, earlier, if we retain all of the memories from our previous hosts," he states, still smiling softly. "We vividly remember that day from both sides, and, well, it's likely going to sound very strange in the telling,"

An amusedly frustrated look passes over his face for just an instant and he chuffs softly to chase it away, takes another sip of the ice-berry juice, and as he returns the glass to it's place, shrugs and continues.

"Our previous host, Kasru, was a passenger aboard that transport," Tochi states, leaning in just a bit further and clasping his hands together while resting his elbows on the edge of the table. "We were on our way to Rili Prime to mediate an accord between the Rilian Oligarchy and a group of separatists on Rili IV—That's not important—We were on that ship when the deflectors failed. We remember the first flurry of micrometeorites tearing through the hull. We remember the ship slowly tearing itself apart. We remember being injured, and we remember being brought back to painful consciousness in the Perseus' MedBay at the very same moment that I remember watching the transport finally implode from my seat at CONN and setting in the course to take the Perseus away, ahead of the shockwave,"

The Trill pauses and Asovil stops chewing as she realizes that he's studying her face. Did I get some of the salad dressing on my chin? Her azure eyes shift from left to right and back again as she momentarily concerns herself with her appearance. A gentle chuckle precludes the Trill's apology. "These overlapping memories have always been the hardest to reconcile for us, for me, We apologize if I sound like I'm insane."

Relief that he isn't entranced by a glob of food marring her face, Asovil swallows the mouthful of salad and shakes her head a little. Reaching for her napkin, she dabs at her lips (and surreptitiously presses the cloth against her chin just in case). "Insanity isn't recognized by the insane, Tochi. What you're sharing must be a devastating memory to relive for any one being, but to relive it twice and from both sides of the event, well, I'd call that a special gift.

"Not," she hurries to add upon realizing that she is being insensitive to the horrible nature of the memory. "That the actual situation is a gift, but that the ability to know both sides, To know both sides of any condition would provide insight that anyone in my position would find envious—I mean, were the situation not heinous, of course."

Chewing on her bottom lip, the science officer drops her eyes to her plate and sits in a moment of embarrassed reconciliation with what she had just stumbled through. Still unable to find a suitable way to soften the nature of her message, Asovil cuts at her chicken and abruptly shoves the piece into her mouth.

Tochi graciously picks up the tale where he had left it. "Dr Tyrrell, the Perseus' CMO, did all he could for Kasru, and told her that he held out hopes for her survival if she could just fight long enough to make it to the Starbase," The Andorian woman looked into her XO's face and sees a hint of sadness in his eyes. He continues speaking with a softened voice, though he still smiles, ",but she was ninety-five, and tired, and stubborn, and we aren't unfamiliar with injuries, so, she knew she was dying. Knew that she wouldn't last to see the starbase. And, of course, knew that if the host dies before the symbiont can be transferred to another, the symbiont dies, as well, So, she used her last hours and influences to save us.

"She told Dr. Tyrrell that, she did, in fact, know that she would die—that we would die—if a temporary host wasn't found immediately. There were some communications between the Doctor and the Captain and between the Captain and the Symbiosis Commission that neither I nor Kasru were privy to, but, when all was said and done, there was a concurrence made and Captain Locke asked for volunteers to serve as that temporary host," Tochi offers a marginal shrug and takes a drink, letting his eyes drift away to gaze out the window for a moment.
"Humans can host a symbiont for a short time," he says, surprising Asovil with the revelation. "but, after 96 hours or so, it becomes seriously detrimental to the health of both. We were far more than 96 hours from the Trill homeworld, at the time, and far enough away, even, that we wouldn't have been able to rendezvous with a ship dispatched by the Commission in that time. So, as there were no other Trill among the evacuees from the transport, and none other than myself serving aboard the Perseus, I volunteered." He snickers, his gaze panning back to regard her again. "I had no choice, really. I couldn't see any of my human crewmates go through what it might have done to them, Besides, if Myrri ever found out that I had the chance to save a symbiont's life and didn't act, she'd have never spoken to me again."

He falls silent again, and studies his dinner. Asovil affects a sympathetic expression, "You didn't have much time to consider the consequences to your own plans, did you. Are all Trill so devoted to the well-being of the symbionts?"

(OOC: Answer forthcoming)

Nodding, the Andorian sets about the Asparagus once more. To be so in sync with another lifeform, I wonder if it feels like an invasion of privacy, or if they are just psychologically accepting of the situation.

After a moment, he sets his silverware down, settles back in his seat a bit, and turns to look out the window once more, "I met Kasru, in Sick Bay, on the day she died," smiling sentimentally as he stares at the stars, he almost murmurs the words. "When I introduced myself, she held my hand, kissed my cheek, and thanked me for what I was about to do. We didn't have much time together before the Commission's representative was reached on a subspace channel and we were prepped for the impromptu zhian'tara ceremony. We remember the Commission's representative being on the viewer and starting to direct Dr. Tyrrell in how to perform the transfer, We remember feeling Kasru pass on as we were removed from her, and feeling her return, when we, became us, we suppose."

His laugh very nearly startles the scientist and she forces control of her reflexes enough to keep from choking on her food. He returns his gaze to the lithe Andorian across the table, "Are we boring you, yet," he asks.

"Absolutely," she states without ceremony, having just managed to swallow her latest bite. Lifting the Andorian Ale, she tilts it his way just a bit and says, "That's why I've changed the subject so many times throughout dinner."

"All right, then," he grins taking up his glass, again. "Since I had never applied to the Symbiosis Commission as an official candidate to host, I never had the benefit of a Docent to guide and train me in the years leading up to the zhian'tara, and because the ceremony was performed outside the Caves of Mak'ala without the benefit of a Guardian being present, the transition was," Tochi searches for the words. ",Traumatic. I was in no way prepared, even as a Trill, for what felt like for hundreds of years worth of memories and experiences to be unleashed in my mind all at once, And to suddenly know hundreds, maybe thousand of people whom I had never met, to," He chuckles as he shakes his head. Throwing his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation, he continues without finishes his thoughts.

"Let's just say that it did not go exceedingly well, hm? As I said, those first few days it felt like I might be losing my mind. We were temporarily relieved of duty and restricted to quarters, the sickbay, and the counselor's office for the duration of the time it took the Perseus to offload the evacuees at SB 153 and, then, make her way to Trill and deliver us to the Commission so that Zai could be transferred to the host whom they had selected to succeed Kasru," the XO smiles a decidedly mischievous smile. "By the time we were taken to the Caves, though, and despite our tumultuous joining, we had already decided that we liked being Tochi Zai and, as such, we refused to be transferred to another host.

"We think, perhaps, a few Guardians and Docents felt as if they might be going mad, then," he continues his mirth. "It may have been the first time they had known a symbiont to refuse a host who had been thoroughly vetted and hand selected for them by the Symbiosis Commission. Such was their reaction, at any rate.

"It's really not as if the Commission could have refused, we suppose," Zai sighs and relaxes into his seat, smiling across the table at Asovil. "Separating us without our consent would have killed us and they wouldn't have wanted to take responsibility for that. So, we spent the next three months as a guest of the Symbiosis Commission and, under the often over-attentive administrations of the Docent to whom we were assigned, were finally deemed fit to be released, They did call us glitchy," he smirks over a shrug. "but they seemed satisfied enough that we wouldn't kill ourselves if we were let go. We were reinstated to active duty shortly thereafter and returned to the Perseus,

",From there," he says, flicking a playful wink and, at last, taking up his cutlery, again. "We just get into the tedium of my career. You likely don't want to hear any of that." Grinning, he cuts another morsel from his plate, pops it in his mouth, and chews. "Besides," he says, swallowing that mouthful. "We believe it's your turn."

Asovil smiles and shakes her head in wonderment, "How, in all the Universe, can I top a story such as that, Tochi? My life story pales in comparison. I believe the the only thing I could have done with my life that would have been more pale by comparison is to have joined the Pa'lek Tov and been a monk my whole life."

(OOC: Olan had said Drake might join in, so seeing as I have to run off to a funeral right now, I'm going to leave it here for the moment. Eol, feel free to leave a patronizing comment from Tochi provoking the further revelation of intimate life details.)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1600

"Yeoman Turiak," Dana says as she turns to him with a frown. "I am not an officer and even if I was I wouldn't wish to conform to the outdated policy of referring to all Officers as Mister regardless of their Gender. Refer to me a Petty Officer or Nurse."

Turiak raises his eyebrows in response, the only indication that he finds her response odd as he answers, "As you order, Ma'am."

She steps up to check out the vitals of PO Bachmann and frowns, "Yes... it kind of looks like some sort of current passed through his body from his hand up to his brain." She sounds puzzled by what she was seeing.

"Yes," she confirms with a nod. "Let's perform the intensive scans, especially in his cranium. I want to see if there is any sort of damage there that might explain his behaviour."

"Yes, Ma'am," Turiak replies again and immediately turns to initiate the scan receptor routines. Retrieving the scanning crown for Bed 3 from the wall's storage container, Turiak begins to position it on Ryan's cranium, adjusting for fit and cross-checking the signal with Conn 3.
Yeoman Turaik glances to the door as it opens admitting the security detail with phasers drawn. It is logical to assume weapons might be needed, he concludes as Petty Officer Cook sighs and steps in front of them.

"Hold up," She says in a commanding tone. "Everything is under control for the moment. So put away your phasers in ‘my' sickbay."

Turiak returns his attention to the scan results, recalibrates the depth setting, and studies the imagery that's appearing on screen.

"Good," Dana's voice carries throughout the room. "Now, since you're not needed at the moment, please stand by the door over there just in case you are."

Petty Officer Bachmann's scan is focusing on the front quarter of the cranium sectioned off by the Coronal plane and the Sagittal plane. The scan is producing a mid-signal intensity image that shows no sign of the same kind of tissue damage he has noticed in the technician's limb, shoulder, and neck. Turiak uses the index fingers of both hands to expand the view, then presses the command to intensify the depth of the scan just as the doors to sickbay slide open again. Looking, once again, to see if he is needed, the Vulcan is introduced to someone he's never seen on the ship before.

"What the situation?" the newcomer asks with authority. "Why was security called? Can anyone tell me what happened?"

"Lt. Reid," Petty Officer Cook replies, approaching him. "Petty Officer Bachmann had some kind of accident." Turiak determines that the Head Nurse has things well in hand and returns to his deep scan study. "He said one of the Wall panels over there ‘attacked' him."

"We had to sedate him to keep him from injuring himself," she continues. "He was babbling about something in the wall that attacked him. He does appear to have received some sort of ‘shock' to his arm that appears to have done minor damage to his tissues, but we are performing deeper scans to determine the extent of the damage."

"I want you to notify Ensign Williams here when he becomes lucid," the man, whom Yeoman Turiak has determined is named Lt. Reid, instructs Petty Officer Cook. "I need you to question this man and find just what happened in here. Also, contact engineering to take that unit off line and see if there might be something malfunctioning that could have lead Bachmann to think it attacked him. While you wait for Bachmann to come-to, head down to security and have Petty Officer Enpok T'Darin fill you in on all our excitement. I'm sure Lt. Berk will brief you when he comes off the bridge."

Turiak activates the diffusion weighted scan and watches as the results appear on screen. Negative, he concludes. Interesting.

"Engineering has been summoned to investigate the panel," PO Cook interjects. "I suggest you have your detail stand by and make sure that no one approaches that panel till Engineering can look at it."

"Oh. I'm Lt. Reid, the ACTO." Momentarily confused by the turn in conversation, the Vulcan turns and notices that the Lieutenant is addressing one of the security personnel at the door. "Welcome aboard the Peregrine. Let me know if you get bored. Crewman Wren, please show our new Security Officer to the Security Section." Lt. Reid turns to address Nurse Cook. "Thank you, let me know if there is anything else to report."

"Of course, Lt," Cook replies.

Yeoman Turiak returns to his scans as the security officer leaves sickbay. The insula appears to be undamaged. Petty Officer Bachmann's head looks wholly healthy to the Vulcan.

"Petty Officer Cook to Dr. Moore." The beep of Cook's comm badge causes Turiak to become momentarily distracted from his review. "you are needed in Sickbay."

"Petty Officer Cook," Turiak intones, returning the scan results to their original screen settings. "I have found nothing that would indicate any continuation of the tissue damage into the cranium. It would appear that the damage is constrained to this region," the Vulcan indicates Ryan's arm, shoulder, and neck. "Of Petty Officer Bachmann's body. Furthermore, I can conclude no further indication within our patient of what caused this damage."

(OOC: Tag Yanamari and BooBoo.)

Posted on 2016-08-26 at 14:27:04.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I did!

I have posted. Has anyone seen, or heard, anything from Astrid? Her character is in command duty in Engineering at this time.

Posted on 2016-08-25 at 15:10:07.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: I found time!

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge, "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 1606

"Most certainly yours," Asovil states and folds her own hands on the table in front of her. Leaning forward a bit conspiratorially herself, she asks, "Do you retain all of the memories when you are joined?"

"Yes," the smile on his face when he nods the answer is a bashful one. "all of them," The smile fades a bit, just then, but doesn't quite disappear. If anything, it simply waxes more toward sentimental. His gaze flits away from her and regards the starscape beyond the window for a long moment. "And not just the memories," There's a pregnant pause and then the Trill's eyes fall to regard his own hands where they are clasped together on the table. "There are talents, skills, feelings," he laughs softly as he finally looked back across the table, "even the taste or distaste for certain foods or music.

"Honestly, it's kind of overwhelming, sometimes. Especially at first, at first, it seemed a lot like going mad," he admits, his hands letting go of one another and lifting off the table as he shrugs and peers into the vista beyond the window once again. "The Commission has always said that's because I wasn't officially selected as a candidate for joining, because I wasn't properly prepared,"

It was then that Leah returns, carrying a tray with their dinner orders. "Here we go, ladies and gents," she sings as she perches the tray on the edge of their table and begins off-loading the items. Asovil looks away from watching the Trill's expressions to the food placed before her. The dishes contain a white meat—Chicken, I beleive.—with a green salad mix and some long, green sticks with a spear-like protrusion on the end that glisten in the light flecked by seasoning. The smell of the meal is wondrous, and Lt. Sh'iraolnas realizes that she hasn't really eaten since her light meal that morning.

"Thank you," Lt. Zai says, almost absently, as Leah sets his glass of ice-berry juice on the table.

"Yes," Asovil leans forward and cradles her hands in her lap beneath the table as she looks up at their server and smiles appreciatively. "It smells delicious."

"Of course, luv," Leah grins, tucking the now empty tray under one arm and taking a step back, "Anything else I can get for either of you?"

"No," Tochi responds with a grin returning to his face. "We're all set, Leah." He turns his eyes back to Asovil; "Anything for you?"

Asovil shakes her head, her white hair rolling over her right shoulder to fall down and drape her uniform in the process.

"All right, then," Leah nods. "Enjoy." She turns and strolls away.

"This looks good," Tochi comments off hand, reaching for the glass of slightly iridescent, ice blue juice. He takes an appreciative sip of the stuff as his gaze tracks back to the Andorian who shares his table. Asovil nods again, reluctant to be the first to dig into her food she almost sighs with relief when the lieutenant picks up his drink. Sitting up straight, the lithe woman reaches for her Andorian Ale unconsciously allowing her tongue to wet her lips.

The alchohol in her drink burns all the way down her throat and warms her stomach. Andorian Ale will knock a lightweight drinker down, spin them around, and then roll them in a carpet for delivery, but to an Andorian, it generally takes a number of drinks before they are affected in such a way. The little Asovil is having with her meal won't do much more than provide a warmth akin to a mother's hug.

Setting the mug at the top right of her dinner plate (something she learned to do at Star Fleet Academy as Andorian custom demands the beverage to be placed center above the plate), the scientist takes up her fork and knife, cuts a piece off of one of those green stalks, and delicately places it in her mouth. Butter, a little pepper, rosemary, and, what is that? Flavors caress her tongue as she chews the crisp vegetable. She has learned a lot about Terran cuisine since joining Starfleet, but the last flavor eludes her.

"Anyway," the charming XO smiles, "as we were saying; yes, we retain all of the previous hosts' memories when we are joined..." He gently places the glass down and takes up a fork taking in a mouthful of his dinner. He chews, swallows, and takes another sip from his glass. "How is your food," he asks.

"Delightful, Tochi," Asovil says after swallowing. "I've not seen this—" She points at the stalks with her fork. "—Vegetable before. We don't really have many vegetables on Andoria. There are some, like the vor'tehl and the fr'ollenta, but nothing like this." Casting about for Leah, the Andorian finds her working behind the bar once again. "I can't believe this is replicator food. Leera is very good at her job."

"Good," Tochi smiles before taking another bite of his dinner.

"How about yours?" Asovil turns her attention to her dinner companion's salad.

(OOC: assuming something that I've never said, like: This salad is excellent.)

Nodding, the science officer picks up her knife and cuts a piece of the chicken. "Good," she mimics Lt. Zai's response.

After swallowing another bite, Tochi falls quiet and still for a moment. The silence is definitely awkward for the beauty seated across from him, but she's able to focus on the flavorful juices produced by her fowl to ward off being overcome by the unease his stare is bringing. From beneath her lashes, Asovil catches him offering a curious sort of grin

"Will that suffice as our measure matching yours, Asovil, or would you be disappointed if we didn't tell you more?"

Swallowing her food, she retrieves her cloth napkin and dabs at her lips. "This was your idea, Tochi," She smiles a bit timidly, her antennae perking up a bit at the humor she's finding with the situation. "I don't know if I should release you from the challenge yet. After all, you've mentioned certain events without expounding upon them, and curiosity is a scientist's greatest tool." Motioning to her meal with her knife, she meets his gaze and continues, "We've a lot of food to go through still. We can eat in silence, or we can converse. My vote is for conversation.

"To which, I'll add, we once had a Trill tradeship land at the port city where I grew up. That was my introduction to your people. I can remember sitting at the table with my father while he talked about the technological wonders offered by that merchant and how excited he was for the opportunity to inspect a Trill Diagnostics Tool. He went on for hours about the complexity of the Trill brain, the two separate sections, I was very young and only remember bits and pieces as most of the conversation was over my head.

"But, my father's enthuesiasm entices me to this day, so forgive me if I seem too forward," she shrugs her little shoulders a bit apologetically and cuts another piece of chicken from the breast. "And please stop me if I get too personal." Lifting the chicken towards her mouth, she pauses and finally asks her question, "What did you mean when you said that the Commission said that you weren't officially selected?"

(OOC: Fodder for your posting needs, Eol.)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1558

"I agree," Dana turns to Ryan and continues. "Now relax PO, I will get Engineering to look into that and see what it is that attacked you. Ok?"

"You've got to destroy it, Chief," Petty Officer Bachmann relaxes under Yeoman Turiak's weight once he's confident his warnings are being taken seriously. "This wouldn't have happened in the first place if you people would have called on me to help with Thorson.

"Just stay calm," the head nurse's voice is much calmer and sweeter than when she first arrived in the room. "We will get to the bottom of this."

Her shadow casts over the medical technician as she draws up to him and reaches out with her right hand as if to lay it on his shoulder. To his surprise, he feels a sharp pressure on his arm instead. Looking down at the hypo unit Nurse Cook is moving back to her belt, Ryan's eyes widen. He wants to ask why, to protest, to be aware and awake as Engineering gets to work. They need his expertise! He's the one who encou, Petty Officer Bachmann drifts off into a sedated slumber against his will.

"Get him on the medical bed and activate the restraints," Dana orders Turiak before stepping away towards Conn 2. The yeoman complies by lifting the deadweight of the technician's legs up onto the bed at Station 3 and easily positioning his body to accept the ankle, chest, and wrist straps that are made available with a simple command being punched into Conn 3.

"PO Cook to Chief Engineer," Turiak listens as Dana makes her orders over the ship's communication systems, but this is secondary to strapping the poor Bachmann to the table as he's been instructed to do.

"There is a problem in medical," Cook continues, still staring at the rather benign-looking conn. "One of my petty officers swears he was attacked by his work station. Could you check it out?"

=/= This is Engineering, Petty Officer Cook. Did you say that he was attacked by his workstation? =/=

(OOC: assuming an answer confirming the question. Is Astrid still with us?)

=/= Okay, Someone will be right there. =/=

Yeoman Turiak finishes making sure his colleague is properly secured and steps over to Conn 3. Punching in a couple of commands, he brings up Ryan's vitals and begins studying them.

"Mr. Cook," his monotone voice calls out to her. "There does appear to be some minor damage to the nerves in Petty Officer Bachmann's right arm." Standing slightly to the side of the conn screen, the Vulcan draws the finger of his right hand along the diagram of the arm for emphasis. "The damage is very slight and will not likely cause Mr. Bachmann anything more than slight discomfort while it heals, but it is most certainly present. It would also appear that it did extend into his neck, and up into the mandible and possibly the zygomatic arch; though we'll need to perform a more intensive scan to be sure."

(OOC: Tag all you alls!)

Posted on 2016-08-25 at 15:08:53.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: The other question...

Let's address the elephant in the room, shall we?

Posting has been difficult for most, and irregular over the past couple of weeks as RL has taken hold of us and spun us out of control. Do we want to continue this game, or should we call it quits?

Posted on 2016-08-25 at 14:03:43.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I wish I had your energy.

I have a full day at work today, and I didn't arrive early due to traffic. So, I'll try to get some posting time in, but it may be tomorrow before I'm able to do so.

Posted on 2016-08-25 at 11:01:37.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I'm sorry that you're having to deal with RL!

Not a problem, Ayrn. I completely understand.

I have a full day at work today, and due to traffic, I wasn't able to make it in early like I normally do. As such, I'll attempt to get the post up, but it may be tomorrow before I am able to do so.

Posted on 2016-08-25 at 10:59:23.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: No pressure, but...

I'm with Eol on this one!

By the way... TAG, EVERYONE!

Posted on 2016-08-24 at 13:35:35.
Edited on 2016-08-24 at 13:35:51 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: More! More! More! Get Everyone Involved! Muahahahahaha!

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Deck 4 Lift to Deck 5 - 1545ish

The lift door closes and the Trill orders it to deck five. Looking a bit reluctant to relive what's tumbling around in his head, the XO has a faraway gaze that momentarily worries the science officer. Did I go too far in asking? Relief floods her being the moment his quiet voice elaborates on his thoughts.

",I was, different," his tone matches the reflective set to his features as he chews on that last word for an instant, then, with a near imperceptible nod, repeats it, "I was different, in my early career, than we are now. Reckless, some might have said, and, had very little ambition as to climbing through the ranks beyond where doing so might get me seated at the helm. Then, as you have said, and as it is wont to do, the Universe stepped in and made a course correction." The set of the Trill's features has gone enigmatic, then, almost as if he has somehow lost himself in the thought, and one hand drifts absently up to rest on his abdomen. He blinks, after a long moment, and, just before the door opens onto deck five,smiles at her. "We became more," he shrugs, almost chuckling the words, "We've seen more of the galaxy than I could have ever have hoped, and our career, our life, veered into what I might have once considered uncharted territory."

The door whisks open and Asovil steps into the corridor and Tochi continues, "So," he says, motioning her in the direction of the Observation Lounge, "measure for measure, yes?"

But I have so many questions about your symbiote and the joining! Using her left hand to brush her soft, white hair over her ear, the Andorian woman takes up step next to Lt. Zai and considers what to share next. She isn't one to just open up to people and small talk has always been difficult for her. She has always been approached by men in different settings due to her appearance, but aside from one or two relationships in her life, has never found a man to hold her attention for very long. But that is not something you share with a superior officer who is just doing his duty and welcoming a girl on board a new ship.

"Fair enough," she manages. Two crewmen in ops colors deep in conversation barely manage to move aside before colliding with her. Even with their avoidance tactics, Asovil is forced to turn sideways and barely skims past. "Have you ever—in your vast travels, and through all of your lifetimes—wondered what's on the other side of a black hole, or what would happen if you could fold the Universe, or what uses a small measure of a neutron star's energy could have?

"I grew up with my father asking ‘what if' about everything. The first real questions of any importance that I remember formulating had to do with our solar system. The first paper I wrote for publication (it was rejected, in case you're wondering) had to do with stellar formation and the evolution of our star. My curiosity hasn't subsided either. I'm currently working on a dark matter/dark energy theory with some colleagues from various facilities throughout the Federation. I hear that these Saber class vessels have the latest technologies in Stellar Cartography. I'm looking forward to spending time there and putting some of my theories to test."

Her reveal has the two of them approaching the Observation Lounge's doors. Falling quiet, Asovil falls into a subordinate position slightly behind Tochi and to his right.

Deck 5; Observation Lounge - 1605

"So, where were we," Tochi asks, returning his distant thoughts back to the present.

"The Peregrine has it's own wait staff?" Asovil finds herself very amused by the interactions taking place in the lounge, particularly between the XO and the various women. Is he interested in me that way? The thought nearly rolls her antennae into curls and she ushers it away with haste.

Lieutenant Zai blinks through a mildly confused expression. Then, his gaze tracks from Asovil to where Leah is speaking to the Andaran nurse. "Ah," he chuffs softly, his eyes returning to frame his dinner companion again. "Not officially, no. Petty Officer Finnley is technically a Catering Specialist in our Ops department. As a patrol vessel, though, the Peregrine hasn't had much of an opportunity to apply that particular specialty, beyond adding some variety to our replicator menus, so, she's often here, playing host. Adding a bit of color to an otherwise sparse lounge, we suppose."

Tochi chuckles and adds, "With the ambassadors on board, though, we imagine she'll actually have occasion to cater an event or two. That should make her happy.

Anyway," he shrugs, folding his hands together atop the table and leaning forward just a bit as he smiles interestedly, "we were in the midst of a measure-for-measure thing, weren't we? Was it your turn or ours?"

"Most certainly yours," Asovil states and folds her own hands on the table in front of her. Leaning forward a bit conspiratorially herself, she asks, "Do you retain all of the memories when you are joined?"

(OOC: Pokin' Eol.)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1556

The door to the sickbay opens and admits a flurry of frustration in the form of PO Cook. Toriak is practically lying across the medical technician and looks back over his shoulder with a bland expression on his Vulcan face. Bachmann hears the door and struggles to sit, but being held down as he is, can't manage anything more than mumbled futility.

"What in the Bloody Hell is going on in here?" Petty Officer Cook bellows pausing just inside the door. Turiak assumes Cook is taking her time to figure out what's going on before descending further into the madness. An assumption that is confirmed as she produces a hypospray from her belt and approaches.

"Care to explain yourselves gentlemen?" Cook asks while eyeballing the two of them.

"Chief!" Ryan squirms again and attempts to look at his superior around the broad shoulder of the yeoman holding him down. "There's something in the wall. It attacked me, but I fended it off—I think."

"Petty Officer Bachmann was engaged in some work on Station Two when I noticed him almost collapse," the Vulcan explains in a calm voice that is in direct contradiction to the frantic nature of the man he's holding down. "When I approached him, he began to speak of this attack and would grow more terrified the closer to the station conn one came. I moved to lie him down, but he refused to take the bed at Station Two, so I moved him to Station Three and contacted you directly.

"He has already requested a security detail, Chief Cook. I estimate their arrival any moment."

"There's something there," Ryan croaks, gripping the Vulcan's left forearm with his right hand, but dropping his head back on the bed. "Something in the wall, in the conn, it attacked me."

"If I may make a suggestion?" Yeoman Turiak raises his eyebrows in askance. (OOC: assuming an affirmative.) "With Lt. Thorson's cybernetic failure, the strange container taken on board earlier, and the presence of the ambassadors; perhaps it would be wise to have Engineering take a look at the conn."

(OOC: Back to you, BooBoo, and here's an opening for including Haemis. Brennus_Stagborn, feel free to bring Security into the picture as well!)

Posted on 2016-08-24 at 13:33:35.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: All right! Some posts!

So, we're still missing half the crew in the tunnels. I'll give it today and post tomorrow morning. Hope everyone can get their posts in!

Posted on 2016-08-24 at 12:28:25.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: I've done it now!

I've posted for Asovil, and am good with the play-by-post continuation of the happenings and conversation between Asovil and Tochi, Eol.

I've also posted a little wrinkle...

Posted on 2016-08-23 at 17:09:40.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Just throwing something into the mix... This is not to derail the main plot.

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1545

No one has bothered to ask his opinion of events that had just taken place in Sickbay a few hours earlier. Had they, Petty Officer 3rd Class Ryan Bachmann is confident that he would have been able to calibrate systems in such a way as to determine the actual reason for Chief Thorson's condition. Such short-sightedness on the part of the new Chief Medical Officer is an annoyance to the lab technician. He hadn't even been given the opportunity, and he is dead certain that the disregard shown his expertise is the reason the Peregrine is now en route sans the chief.

Normally on duty for Alpha, Petty Officer Bachmann has returned to Sickbay to prove his theory. Stepping through the doors, he acknowledges the staff on duty with barely anything more than a nod or a grunt before moving to the table that Chief Thorson had been on during his brief stay this morning. Approaching the wall conn, Ryan begins entering in the proper commands to call up the registered diagnostics recorded during the emergency procedures. Data streams begin to flow before him, the bottom right corner of the screen displaying an overhead view of the chief's inert body and the medical staff working over him in hurried, frenetic fashion.

Ryan syncs the PADD in his left hand and begins running his custom programs diagnosing various samples of the chief's bodily fluids, scans, and imagery. A few minutes pass, and Petty Officer Bachmann frowns at the anomalous reading his PADD spits back at him. Looking back to the viewscreen on the wall, the non-descript man's frown deepens. That smudge wasn't there before, was it? he wonders, noticing the blurred portion of the navigation menu on the screen. Filthy people, he grumbles mentally as he reaches up with his excessively dry right hand to wipe the screen clear. Dry your bloody hands, for crying out loud!

Shock and pain shoot through his arm into his shoulder and up into his neck the instant his skin makes contact with the blur. Forest green eyes wide as a nebula, Ryan gasps and goes completely rigid with his fingers glued to the conn for all intents and purposes. The electrical pulse through his appendage and neck feels like a thick mass of energy at the end of which hundreds of tiny tendrils wriggle about reaching up into his neck, jaw, and skull. The muscles in his cheeks begin to contract and he feels helpless as his eyes bulge from the sockets. And then, it's gone. The sensation retracts, sliding from his neck into his shoulder, down his arm, and out through his fingertips releasing the medical technician gasping and struggling to stand.

Sinking towards the table, head lowered with the heavy weight of exhaustion washing over him, Petty Officer Bachmann blindly fumbles with his communicator.

"Petty—" he chokes on his words his throat still thick. Swallowing, he tries again. "Petty Officer Bachmann to Security." Coughing, he awaits an answer, his knees weak and his colleagues finally taking notice and rushing to help him.

=/= Security here. =/=

"I need a security team to Sickbay, stat." Ryan hautily pushes the samaritan hands of the medical staff on duty away from him and forces himself to take a couple of shuffled steps away from the conn. "We have an unknown threat here."

=/= Could you say again, Petty Officer Bachmann? An unknown threat? =/=

"Just get a bloody security team down here!" Bachmann yells in response. Grabbing the uniform shoulder of the nurse closest to him, Ryan pulls the Vulcan away from the dangerous conn. "Don't go near that! It tried to kill me."

"That seems highly irregular—" Crewman Toriak begins to counter the petty officer's assessment, but is cut off by security's response.

=/= A security team is on the way, Petty Officer Bachmann. Is the threat still local, or does it have the potential to migrate? =/=

Ryan blinks. His mind is struggling to maintain clear thoughts. "Um, the threat is, I mean to say," Coughing again, Ryan looks in surprise at the blood in the palm of his right hand as he pulls it away from his mouth. "A threat," he finishes weakly.

"Lie down, Ryan," Toriak takes the weakened man by the shoulders and directs him to the same table Thorson was on, but panic fills Bachmann's entire being as his eyes fix on the conn.

"No! No!" he screams, struggling under the much stronger Vulcan's hold. "Not there! Not there!"

Though not understanding his colleague's irrational fear, Toriak helps the hysterical man away from that table to an adjacent table and forces him to lie back.

"Crewman Toriak to Chief Cook," the Vulcan taps his combadge and calls on the on-call command staff. "We have a situation in Sickbay. Please join us post haste."

Ryan's heart rate is increasing with his rising panic. He casts his eyes about the ceiling and then looks up over his right shoulder towards the conn he had been working. "It's in there," he whispers. "It was in there and tried to get in me, but it's back in there. It's in there,"

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Security, Deck 5 - 1555

Crewman Apprentice Clint Myers shuts down the communication from sickbay and immediately connects with Lt. Berk. "Sir, there's been a reported security threat in Sickbay. A request has been made for a security team on site. Your orders?"

(OOC: Assuming something akin to, "Send them!")

"Aye, aye, sir," Clint pulls up the roster and activates the comm to the security team on duty. "Security Team Beta 2, report immediately to Sickbay. Repeat, Security Team Beta 2, report immediately to Sickbay. Potential security threat reported."

Posted on 2016-08-23 at 17:08:10.


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