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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: Just returned...


I just returned from a trip to South Carolina to visit family. So, I'll be diving into the game once more as I get caught up on my work responsibilities.

Thank you much for your patience.

Olan, enjoy the MOUSE! Buahahahahaha! I mean... that should be fun. I've never been to Disney World, but I've been to Disney Land a couple of times and cannot say that I enjoyed it. Well, to be fair, the one time I did enjoy it was when I took my young children and lived vicariously through them. So, I wish you all the best with the trip.

Posted on 2016-12-01 at 18:32:32.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: That doesn't look at all like Tochi!


Feel free to include any need from Science. I'm happy to work with anyone. As a matter-of-fact, I'm going to propose something. Maybe this is me up in the night, but how would people feel about each of us taking an assigned NPC in each department? Flesh them out, increase the posting opportunity without feeling like we're stepping on toes, etc.

Like I said, with the allowance already in place, that could be a moot point, but it could also open more opportunities for posting.

Posted on 2016-11-21 at 17:57:14.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I'm putting the game on Holiday Break.


We'll take a short break for the Thanksgiving Holiday. I'll be out of town for most of the next two weeks.

Posted on 2016-11-21 at 10:35:41.

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


I was sleeping!

Posted on 2016-11-21 at 10:33:28.

Topic: Supernatural Q&A thread
Subject: We all understand RL


School, Holidays, etc... we all understand.

Posted on 2016-11-21 at 10:27:15.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Dalia begins her investigation.


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 4 - CSO's Office to Chemical Lab - 15:12



Sterile acidity tickles her nostrils with determined persistency despite failing to elicit a sneeze. Annoyances that skirt one's attentions are easy to ignore while those dedicated to the fervent effort eventually achieve success. In this case, Ensign Maize can no longer fight the distraction in her subconscious and is forced to take action. Frowning deeply, the blonde woman rubs violently at the underside of her nose and sniffles.


Closing her tired eyes, the officer places both hands on the cool surface of the workstation and breathes the cleansed air deeply in through her slightly parted lips. Once Lt. Sh'iraolnas had left the chemlab, Dalia had begun work on reviewing the shipment orders just as she had been ordered. Only a couple of minutes into it, the tension in her shoulders and neck had begun to cause her discomfort. A few minutes later and it seems as though the very air in the lab is vexatious.


It's that new lieutenant, Dalia decides. She's got the whole department on edge. Me most of all. It's not like losing Horatio is bad enough, she's got to go digging into Lauren's involvement.


Lauren Crane's predicament is shared by the whole science department as far as Dalia Maize is concerned. Crane had been responsible for a number of duties that Dalia now finds herself burdened with. Scheduling, training, conducting individual interviews, and maintaining activity logs just to name a few. Lauren is an efficient woman and Dalia is going to miss having her to rely on. If I'm being honest, Maize allows her eyes to open and fight through the resulting blur to find the screen. She's the backbone of this department. The others rely on her as much as I do. And now all of that's screwed up.


Bitterly resuming her search, Dalia calls up the computer's assistance, "Computer? Show me the receivables registered to the Science Department from Starbase One-One-Eight."


=/= Acknowledged, Ensign Maize. All registered receivables from Starbase One-One-Eight have been retrieved for your review. =/=


Surprisingly, the list is very short and consists of nothing in the way of chemicals. "Computer? When was the last time a shipment was made to the chemlab?"


=/= The last shipment made to the chemlab was registered on stardate four-two-zero-three-six-point-six. =/=


Thirty-seven days ago, Racking her brain, the biomechanical engineer recalls the encounter with the Bolian frigate. The whole event had been peaceful. They had problems with their ship engines and the Peregrine had stopped to provide assistance, but she couldn't recall having taken on anything.


Looking down at the shipment information the ship's computer has provided, Dalia deepens her frown and rubs at the back of her neck with the knuckles of her left hand. Accessing the associated report, Dalia scans the contents,


One of the Bolian crew visited the chemlab today. His name is Drit Licanar, if I remember correctly. He was looking for me by name and had a package for me from a Dr. Lomo—an individual with whom I've no familiarity. The container that I found in the package was strange and of a brackish blue color. I've never seen the likes of the material before, nor could I immediately find a way to open it. This whole event intrigues me. Drit Licanar made it to my lab carrying the device. Security must be aware of it, and seeing how the Bolian made it past their inspection, I can only presume that the contents aren't nefarious. I shall put more thought into discovering the method for accessing the container's contents later.


Not remembering any notifications of a strange container told the Ensign that PO Rogers hadn't reported it to Chief—Petty Officer—Crane, or that Lauren hadn't reported it to her. Glancing about the lab, Dalia performs a quick scan of all visible contents but spots nothing that would match the container. Returning to the log, the Starfleet officer pulls up the next entry; a verbal record made three days after the first.


"Decidedly, there are no seams, latches, secret keyholes, or other methods by which I can seek to open the mysterious container. Furthermore, I've looked into this Doctor Lomo and he does not exist in any mainstream canonical scientific forums. I did, however, find a reference to a Doctor Lomo who operates outside of Federation regulations. There are some who think him to be a Vulcan, but the name is more consistent with a Romulan, which leaves me no choice but to consider this parcel more interesting than even the initial mode of delivery could have indicated.


"I'm still not ready to divulge the existence of this mystery to any of those individuals I share this ship with. Their intellects are far too limited to truly grasp the potential here. My achievements in the scientific community must precede me and this Doctor Lomo has discovered something that only I have the ability to decipher. I make these logs purely in the interest of scientific record. When I figure out how to open the container and gain access to what's inside, I'll be able to properly document my findings. Until then, I'll be accessing the Spectroscopy systems in the main lab after Alpha Shift has ended so as not to draw attention to my latest mystery."


Unless he's deleted the entries, there will be record of his use. Ensign Maize squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the headache that's developing. Those systems are non-integrated though, so I'll need to be in the lab to do so. Opening her unique purple eyes to the spots squeezing them shut had given birth to, she breathes deeply and pulls up the next entry.

Posted on 2016-11-18 at 16:48:52.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: This is getting me ready to write romance novels...


I'd never considered a career as a romance novelist, but after writing the Tochi/Asovil arch, I think I could pull off a Murtaugh from Lethal Weapon and write a scintillating series.

There were plenty of sexual undertones to Trek, and many, many episodes devoted to the theme outright.

Orion slave chicas, indeed.

Posted on 2016-11-17 at 16:51:31.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: That does it!


I'm writing up an alien love interest for Drake. The guy needs a lot more than a hug.

Posted on 2016-11-17 at 12:51:06.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Lunch... No time right now to continue the Investigation.


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 13:07



"Then it is decided," she sets her mug before her and raises both eyebrows rather coyly. "We shall give the crew reason to scuttlebutt."

Feeling the excitement of this new horizon further permeate her being, the blue-skinned beauty leans forward and places the index and middle fingers of her right hand on the top of Tochi's. "Are you going to act as Chief Crane's advocate, Tochi? I fear that it is really a rather cut and wry situation and there won't be much of an opportunity to offer a defense. Were Chief Crane on board an Andorian Cruiser, her fate would have been sealed the moment the reports were submitted and an Ushaan would be the results."

Discussing the business of the day is a difficult adjustment for the science officer when really all she wants to do is think on the possible futures that lay ahead for Tochi and her.

"I am," he nods, resisting the temptation to turn his hand over and entwine her fingers in his. Asovil's sudden transition to work details, in this moment, is a bit awkward given where his thoughts had just been but, despite the ungainliness of the change in topic, Tochi can't help but be grateful for it. At the very least it frees his tongue enough that words can flow smoothly across the once more. "Lieutenant Lasad would have been Chief Crane's other option and, as he didn't come aboard much sooner than you did, we wouldn't have felt right leaving her defense, wanting as it may be, left in the hands of someone who wasn't, at least, familiar with her."

His eyes finally let go of hers and fall to the center of the table where her fingers grace the back of his hand and he lets go of his reluctance, turning that hand over, capturing the slender blue fingers in his palm, and silkily stroking a thumb along their length before he forces the hand to withdraw and occupy itself with the mug of katheka, instead. "You're right, of course," he adds, his fingers curling around the mug and lifting it in preparation for a sip, "Mister Crane's fate is as much sealed where this proceeding is concerned as she might be were she to fight the Ushaan with Captain Drake.

Regarding their hands wrapped together and Tochi's gentle touch with as much of a bland expression as she can muster, Asovil forces the excitement of the contact back. Being Andorian in a Terran-prominent culture has taught her to constrain her passions and in this case she found such control to be the most difficult exercise in mastery over her emotions she has yet to encounter. Perhaps her recent experience aboard her last ship had succeeded in imbuing her with a greater sense of caution, or perhaps it is just that subconsciously, she doesn't want to risk ruining the pleasure of the infancy of this relationship. Either way, she forces her thoughts back to the conversation and her azure eyes back to the spotted frame of the Trill's face just in time to catch his eyes as he looks up from his drink.

His gaze returns to hers once more, regarding her over the rim of the mug as he offers a marginal shrug and a smile before indulging in a sip. "That said," he offers, returning the mug to the table, "we wouldn't be honoring our duties as either XO or advocate if we didn't, at the very least, try to muster something, if not a defense, then something by way of an explanation, anyway.

"We spoke, at length, with Petty Officer Crane, this morning," Tochi continues, "and she is painfully aware of what her transgression is likely to cost her. Aware, too, that, had it been revealed before we left Starbase One-eighteen, she would likely not have the ‘luxury' of the NJP that is being afforded her. The consequences of her actions will likely not be as severe as they might be were she expected to take an ushaan-tor into single combat against Silas but," the Trill shrugs again ",hopefully, death won't be a remote possibility."

Tochi indulges in another taste of the katheka and, then, regards his lunch date curiously; "Does it bother you that we're representing Chief Crane, Asovil?" He shakes his head and waves his hand as if to erase any possible misinterpretation of the question from the air. "That, perhaps, isn't the proper way to phrase that query," His gaze dips to the shimmering black surface of the katheka that still fills his mug, ",Given what I've just said in regards to how I feel about you, would you prefer that I recuse myself as Lauren's advocate? We ask you, as a scientist, and as analytical as your ilk can be, would you deem my representation of Chief Crane as a conflict of interest?"

Raising her manicured eyebrows in surprise mimicked by the sudden setting back of her antennae, the Andorian woman finds herself shaking her head. "I will not have you worrying about administering your duties just because we happen to fancy each other. I would find it insulting if you did otherwise.

"I do not know Lauren Crane by anything more than our brief interaction and her record." Light blue hands shift the navy blue mug of bitter brown liquid a scant inch from the edge of her plate and then refocus to retrieve the fork that had been brought with the food. "Her record appears to be impeccable, and you seem to think highly of her. That leaves me with nothing by her most recent action to decide her character, and I can only say that she appears to have made a very costly mistake.

"My concern with your task of advocating for Chief Crane is nothing more than finding you in an impossible position." Cutting into her meal, the scientist pauses before lifting the morsel to her mouth. "Impossible because of the admitted guilt and mitigating facts, not because of your ability."

(OOC: Tochi will likely have something to say at some point. )

Placing the delicious, juicy plant into her mouth, she chews thoughtfully and sets the fork on the edge of her plate. Swallowing, she lightly shrugs her shoulders and says, "I also don't know Captain Drake well enough to even formulate an opinion on how he'll address the situation."


(OOC: Tag!)

Posted on 2016-11-17 at 12:48:35.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I've brought you all forward in time.


I am the Time Master! Boomshakalaka!

Keeper, need to know how Ghlahn plans to proceed, where he wants to attempt to get set up, etc. The more details, the better. Remember, you can post your intentions and I'll edit what I need to.

Everyone else can share what they are doing with their characters in the meantime. Until traffic is stopped, I don't advise anyone making their way out into the street.

Tann, Casino is making friends and biding his time. Emergency room wait times haven't gotten any better in Night City Integrate.

Posted on 2016-11-17 at 12:12:18.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: Manhole | C Scan


Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:35 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)


"Do you know what a Class C Scan is, Mr. Story?" The screen shows a small title reading Class C Scan, Department of Justice, Night City Integrate at the top with a large single button below that simple states Start Scan in the middle.

Casino, looking at Riggs, knows it is mostly a bluff to see how he'd react. They both know what the scan would show. If they had any real evidence at this point that he was more involved in the gunfight the scan would have been a priority.

"Again Detective, really? I've been through all this before, so yeah, I know a C Scan. I'll even—in a show of cooperation—tell you what you'll find. As this is a near contact wound there will be clumps of unburned gunpowder on the edges of my wound, on the seered zone of the skin around my wound and the clothing the bullet passed through to cause my wound. Considering I was holding the wound with my right hand to stem the bleeding"

Holding up both bound hands to show the right covered in blood with the left only slightly covered thanks to being cuffed, Casino continues. "You'll easily find a s***load of gunpowder residue on my hands, among my blood, and on my clothing and skin." The big solo looks to the robo doc for confirmation, but the vacuum cleaner-looking machine has moved on to other patients.

"Next—as you know by now—unless your people are complete rookies at this, my Armalite has not been fired this evening, so it's clear the gunpowder is not from that or any weapon fired by me. On top of that, if there were any witnesses saying I was one of the shooters—what did you say, seven, eight shooters? I'd be under arrest, not sitting here being questioned."

Though he is taking a risk about no witnesses, both he and Vegas both well know that in that section of town too much ‘black' dealings went down for anyone to talk to the cops and not end up listed as a rat or dead.

"So I ask again, charge me, get me a lawyer, fix my arm, and lock me up, enough of this innuendo crap. When it all comes out that I really was not involved, then I can have my lawyer start the process to sue you both and your department for false arrest."

His hands still held out, he defiantly looks into Rigg's amused face. "Well then," the officer grins a slightly unhinged affectation. "Is he right, Murtaugh? Would our C Scan have been more of a priority?"

"Maybe," the older police officer replies with wide-eyed innocence. "Wouldn't know as I haven't been patrol in a few years. Maybe I forgot protocol."

"And did he just threaten to sue the department?" Riggs tilts his head to the right a little while retaining the smile.

"I believe he did."

"Interesting," the younger officer replies. "Maybe it's the pain talking. Is it the pain talking, Mr. Story? That's unfortunate because you just turned down the meds that'd take the edge off.

"Tell you what," Officer Riggs steps over to the injured solo and puts a heavy hand on his injured shoulder causing pain to jolt down through Casino's arm into his fingertips as well as resonate through his chest and neck. Despite the intensity of the agony, the solid solo is able to keep his head clear and fend off the blackness threatening to hood him. "We'll just run the scan since we'd plumb forgot previously—as my partner said, we're not normally on patrol, so we may have forgotten a few things from our earlier days. You're still bleeding pretty profusely—that means a lot, in case you were wondering—so I feel it's best for you to just sit tight and wait until a real doctor can see you. Don't you, Murtaugh?"

"Sure do, Riggs."

"And since I now feel responsible for you—we feel responsible for you. Sorry, Murtaugh," Riggs repairs as he pretends to catch his partner's disapproving gaze. "We'll just hang out with you here until you're all patched up."

Giving Casino's shoulder a jarring pat that once again sends pain shooting through his body, Riggs holds his agent up and uses his thumb to press the activation button for the C Scan. "Protocol," he chuckles and shrugs as though he has no other option and is sorry that he needs to continue with this simple procedure.

Passing the device over the wound and then over Casino's hands, he releases his pressure on the solo's shoulder and stands to his full height while regarding the screen. "Would you look at that?" he proclaims. "It does show blood and gunpowder just as Mr. Story said it would."

"Maybe he's a forensics scientist," Murtaugh mumbles.

"Maybe. You a forensic scientist, Mr. Story?" Riggs looks back at the wounded man with raised eyebrows. "All the same; I'll just send these results to the lab. Third party and all that. No disrespect meant."

Punching a couple of buttons on the screen he then replaces the device in his pocket and drops into the chair next to Casino once again. Throwing his legs out in front of him, Officer Riggs crosses his legs at his booted ankles and clasps his hands behind his head, staring out at the gathered congregation of sick and wounded people filling the emergency room lobby.

"Busy night," he states blandly.

"Always is," Murtaugh replies without inflection.

"What's on?" Riggs asks.

"Just watching some football story," Murtaugh informs him.

"You're a big dude, Mr. Story," Riggs observes. "You ever play football?"

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


Maggie's Grill | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:40 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)


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


"No deaths, Ghlahn," Bloodbank cautions. "I'm OK with this plan so long as there are no innocent deaths."

"Yeah," Echo agrees. "If you can pull that off, I'm on board."

Blossom leans back in her portion of the bench seat and rolls the lolli in her mouth for a moment before popping it out with an audible suction. "So, what's the full plan?"

Vegas has been plagued with an uneasy feeling ever since going to the school had been mentioned. He had tried to avoid going there by going to the Rat Pack instead, but now his long time partner, Casino, was in police custody or worse and a growing dread keeps gnawing upon the emotions of the Frank Sinatra look-alike. Perhaps he is sensing the inevitable end of his own life, going out in a blaze of glory, or simply disappearing in a hidden alley, or an unknown bend in a sewer? But, as his past history has confirmed, Vegas is no coward.

The Dapper Solo quickly assesses the situation, taking careful consideration that he may never see his partner, Casino, ever again—not because Casino would be dead—but rather that Vegas may not make it out of this mess alive!

He asks both Blossom and Echo if there were any better access points to the sewers below: perhaps an entry from a secluded alley or inside a nearby tenement building?

Satisfied with their answers, the Chairman volunteers his services:

"Okay, Doll," proclaims Vegas to Blossom, "you get that manhole open and I will go 'Down the Hatch' first with my guns drawn to protect you in case something down there tries to eliminate you from the equation!

"Without you," adds Vegas, "there is no accessing any information from the school files!

"I suggest that Echo follow you and that Bloodbank cover the both of you from behind. Fixer can cover Ghlahn after the sniper takes out a vehicle or two, or perhaps Fixer can unload some rounds into a building, or traffic in the opposite direction with the heavy firepower that Casino ordered from Starlight and entrusted with Fixer before Casino sent us packing!

"Unless anyone has any kind of better idea," concludes Vegas as he paused for any responses, "we had best get the show on the road, as we are not getting any younger!"

Vegas secures a firm grip on both of his handguns, as he awaits an affirmative response from Blossom, or anyone else in the group.

The cute little netrunner rolls the sucker around in her mouth while she considers the suited solo from behind her heart-shaped pink sunglasses. Retrieving her drink from the table, she slips the straw past the white stick of the lollipop and slurps in the remainder of the cola. Emptying the contents of the spotted glass, the small woman sets it back on the table eliciting a small clank of glass on plastic. "Sounds like we've got a plan, then, choombas. Ready?"

Wrapping up the conversation and settling individual checks, the team steps back through the foyer and out into the blustering rain. Odorous steam rises from storm grates while rippling puddles of disturbed rainwater reflect the shifting and static neon lights of the digitally veined city. Ground cars plow through the rain sending the occasional wave of dirty water out from underneath recycled rubber tires while the nightlife—familiar with the temperamental weather—go about their business wearing everything from designer rain slicks to trash bags.

The team wends their way through this self-absorbed crowd without incident and within a short time find themselves at the designated location. The street here consists of four lanes, two for each direction. Vapors drift up through the inch-diameter holes in the steel manhole cover center in the street set at approximately eight meters from the edge of the sidewalk. Watching current traffic patterns for a couple of minutes allows Blossom to quickly run a program that predictively puts a car passing by every seven seconds. The air traffic in this part of Night City Integrate has been pushed from directly overhead to the last furthest lane by the architectural protrusions of the building behind the group.

Hale Security Doors is the business on the main floor of the building closest to the edgerunners with Webtrendz on the left as a person faces the structure, back to the street, and Sales Qualifiers, Inc. to the right. An alcove is set into the wall to the right of the latter storefront, which—having passed it already—the party is aware contains stairs leading up to the next floor. This stairwell is flanked by A Novel Place (bookstore) and Kits for Crafts before an alley cuts into the flow. Providing the building follows a traditional setup, the second floor might consist of offices for more white collar businesses, or immediately move into apartments.

Across the street, an equally convoluted and strangely architected building juts up from the swamped street. The storefronts are all lit, the same as those on the side that the edgerunners occupy, and consist of Tatum Limousine Rental, The Rehab Center, SkyCab, Living City Contractors, and The Bass Music Store. Again, the second floor and above likely consists of offices more suited for lawyers and clerks, or apartments.

Assessing the viability of a sniper's perch, M'harú Ghlahn is left with a toss up. Nothing strikes him as preferable. The decision of where to go in order to enact his plan is left to pure circumstance, and the success of the objective a matter of luck of the draw.

"So," Blossom, still sucking on a lollipop, thrusts her hands into her jacket pockets and steps a little further underneath the short awning Hale Security Doors so thoughtfully provides as a shield against the rain. "Guess we wait here until Ghlahn is through shooting the place up?"

Posted on 2016-11-17 at 12:09:41.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Luv da posts, mon.


All right, so I've updated Asovil's responses and actions. Flirtation, more flirtation, and then some investigation. All courtesy of the letter A and the number 9.

Posted on 2016-11-14 at 11:35:59.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Flirtation | More Flirtation | Ingestigation


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 13:04



Had he been forced to gauge by the warm flush that spread in his cheeks, if there had ever been a time in which Tochi Zai's spots had truly gone purple, this would have been the moment. His eyes, for some reason, want to break from her's but couldn't, and he had to lift his cup to his lips again in order to keep his smile from completely swallowing his face. Feigning the sip and swallow wasn't easy—especially for as long as he had tried to do so—but, when he manages to force it to an end, he determines that he wouldn't—couldn't—lie to her about his feelings even for discretion sake. The demure and, still, mischievous look she gives him doesn't help matters.

Ancients help me, the Trill pleads, his gaze still refusing to let go of her's as he returns his cup to the table.

"At the risk of sounding entirely too forward, Asovil," he admits, "there is most certainly empirical data offering credence to those rumors." That confession provides enough self-consciousness for the Trill to let his gaze dip from her's to the plate of food before him for a nano-second and, as his cheeks flush even warmer, he offers up a soft chuckle to the air as his eyes swim up to hers.

"If I told you the truth of it," he smiles, his voice gentle and true, "I would have to admit being infatuated with you within moments of the start of our first conversation," One of his hands unfurls from around the cup and subtly lifts in a gesture meant to forestall any response from the newly appointed CSO just yet, and hangs in the air as if Tochi is forcibly trying to keep it from reaching for one of her hands thereafter. "I understand that you and I have known each other for mere hours," the words come out somewhere between a mutter and a whisper, "and that it may seem a bit much, even from the ‘passionate Andorian' perspective, but I feel as if I have been," An instant passes, in which the expressions on Zai's face denotes an almost physical struggle to find the most appropriate word at the end of which he offers a shrug as if to preface his choice as, perhaps, not being the ideal, ",drawn to you."

His hand falls to the table, again, landing a scant millimeter from her's before begrudgingly withdrawing to occupy itself with the curve of the katheka cup. "I've not felt this, anything like this," his words are a whisper (if not less) now, and his eyes, once more try to avert from hers and fail, "since before we were joined."

Tochi chuckles then, softly, and perhaps a bit tentatively, before he finds it in himself to continue. "Over the course of our lifetimes," he says after a moment, his voice rising above a whisper again, "we have come to learn that romantic relationships are not a thing to be taken lightly. In fact, once you become joined, such thoughts are almost tertiary," The Trill's gaze can't help but fall away from her's then and he stares at the dark surface of his cup's contents as he proceeds, ",but, when those feelings so much as scratch at your mind once the joining has happened, one can't help but give that sense it's due weight,"

Tochi shakes his head and chuckles again, reluctant to lift his eyes to the sapphire-blue ones awaiting them across the table; but he does so anyway and, along with the glance, he offers a marginally contrite shrug. "We've only just met, Asovil," he says, absently spinning the cup between his hands, "and I don't want to force anything but, as Tam has seen fit to interject the topic before I could allow it to come up naturally," he lifts the cup, tipping it to his lips as if the swallow of caff will somehow make his confession easier. ",Yes," he says before his eyes fix to her's again, "I find you beyond intriguing and would like to pursue this to wherever it may lead."

Well, I'll be frozen in ice and shipped to Iota Cephai, Asovil maintains composure by sheer willpower. Lt. Zai's speech confounds her. It is true that Andorians are a passionate people, and it isn't unheard of for the blue-skinned race to rush into very prurient relationships, but it is a rare thing for the scientist. She can count on one hand the number of relationships she's experienced in her lifetime and all of them have been with Andorians. The strange draw she feels towards the Trill is something of uncharted territory for her, and the nature of Andorian impulse is embattled with her scientific caution. Warm tingling sensations pulse from her heart to her limbs as she replays the roguish XO's words and she is surprised at the realization that the sensation is excitement.

"Then it is decided," she sets her mug before her and raises both eyebrows rather coyly. "We shall give the crew reason to scuttlebutt."

Feeling the excitement of this new horizon further permeate her being, the blue-skinned beauty leans forward and places the index and middle fingers of her right hand on the top of Tochi's. "Are you going to act as Chief Crane's advocate, Tochi? I fear that it is really a rather cut and wry situation and there won't be much of an opportunity to offer a defense. Were Chief Crane on board an Andorian Cruiser, her fate would have been sealed the moment the reports were submitted and an Ushaan would be the results."

Discussing the business of the day is a difficult adjustment for the science officer when really all she wants to do is think on the possible futures that lay ahead for Tochi and her.


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


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




Finally leaving the room, Asovil nearly bumps into Tochi and catches her breath as she deftly steps to the side avoiding impact. Seeing the look on his face, she reaches out a timid hand and touches his forearm. "Are you well?"

"Fine," Tochi sighs in reply as her hand drifts away and he wishes he'd have held it a moment longer, "just tired, and, maybe, a bit surprised at some of the Captain's penalties." The Trill grins and waves away the complaint as inconsequential, at the moment, and focuses fully on the Andorian woman at his side.

"How are you," he asks, "Will Lauren's incarceration affect your labs over the next three days?"

Lt. Sh'iraolnas waves the question away with an exaggerated motion of her left hand. "Inconsequential. We shall make due with what we have and be the better for it."

Tochi smiles, resisting the urge to take the Andorian beauty's hand back into his own. "If it becomes a problem," he offers, "let us know. I'm sure schedules can be juggled to accommodate if necessary."

"The only problem that I can see arising," the young officer accepts the smile with a brilliant grin of her own, "is the potential for more of my time, which means less time I can spend bothering you."

As Tochi is about to suggest that the two of them take a leisurely stroll before his bridge shift commences, Lt Zai's comm-badge chirps for attention. =/= Petty Officer Owen to Lt Zai.=/=

Tochi's eyes close as he sucks in a long, deep breath and, at it's apex, taps the communicator affixed to his uniforms breast; "Zai, here. What can we do for you, Megan?"

=/=Well, sir, I was just wond'rin', bein' as it's me first day at CONN an' all, if I might not need ta report a wee bit early,=/= the elfin voice lilted from the badge, =/=Y'know, jus' ta give m'self a minute ta acclimate an' sech? Simulations an' th' holosuites're one thing, sir, an' the actual bridge is somethin' else, I figger, an,=/=

"Of course, Petty Officer," Zai smiles blearily, cutting the perky little woman short, "Why don't you make your way to the bridge, now, and we'll meet you there."

=/=Marvy! Thankee, sir!=/=

"See you in a moment, Megan," Tochi replies, shaking his head slowly. That girl is bucking for OCS, he muses absently, We'll have to note that in her file, after we see how she does at helm tonight.

"We have to go," he grumbles to Asovil, then, fixing her with a smile that hovers between weary and hopeful,"Will we see you later?"

"It is a small ship, Tochi Zai," the lithe woman proclaims as she brushes by him and flips a glance and a playful smile over her shoulder while gliding away with a bit of a sway.



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


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 4 - CSO's Office to Chemical Lab - 14:50



"Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas to Sickbay," Asovil settles into her chair and allows it to recline. The office temperature is warmer than she prefers, but seeing how this isn't her personal quarters, she's inclined to keep it at a temperature those visiting would appreciate. Still, it is unsettling and she finds the urge to strip off her uniform jacket quite compelling.

=/=Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas, this is Chief Cook.=/= Asovil catches a hint of weariness in the woman's tone but chooses to ignore it in case Cook is one of those sensitive Terrans who believe that any questioning of their endurance is a question to the virility of their ability.

"I'm looking for a report on PO Rogers condition," the Andorian informs the speaker while at the same time, pulling up her messages on the PADD she retrieves from her desktop.

=/=His condition?=/= Was that a snort? =/=He's lucky to be alive. I have entered my initial report, which you should have received a message alerting you of it. I have also tagged it so that any updates on his condition will alert you as well as the Captain.=/=

"Very well. I'd like to be notified when he's coherent and capable of discussing this accident," she instructs while scanning the headlines of her inbox and pausing on the one she has been searching for.

=/=You will be. Please make sure to notify Medical when your report is ready on the investigation of how something like this could have happened. I don't need to tell you, Lieutenant, but this could have been much worse if it had gotten out of the Science Lab. Cook out.=/=

"Thank you," she taps the message header and pulls up the report from the various departments who have been involved with Petty Officer Roger's accident. With the communication between her and Sickbay over, the scientist begins reviewing the report. A skilled chemist should not have been haphazardly engaged in experiments that would have resulted in the conditions reported by Medical. Further on in the report, she discovers that the chemical analysis does not reveal the nature of the burning or acidic element that ate through Roger's clothing and flesh. Pushing past additional medical information for the time being, Asovil settles on the Engineering section. Reporting on the cleanup of the chemlab, the results are symbiotic with those found in Medical. Nothing within the agents that could be responsible for the amount of damage caused to his flesh. Scrolling past the Engineering section she comes to the Security portion. Here, she reads that containers for each of the present chemicals were, in fact, mislabeled.

"Interesting," she mutters. Why would the chemicals be mislabeled, and why wouldn't Rogers have noticed?

Returning to the report, the CSO returns to the Engineering section and scans for the telling line that will reopen the laboratory. Discovering the line stating that the clean up has been concluded and that all harmful substances have been removed from the atmosphere and surfaces of the lab near the end of Engineering's report, the Andorian officer temporarily pushes the report to the sidebar of the PADD's screen and proceeds to the department inventory report. Calling up the list, she filters for chemicals and begins to look down the list.

Everything appears to be typical of a chemical lab and nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. Looking up from the screen with a furrowed brow, the lieutenant, junior grade, chews at the inside of her cheek. The chemicals shouldn't have interacted the way that they did, which would indicate a foreign substance was introduced at some point to cause the corrosive gas. Mislabeled canisters, chemicals being mixed with the potency to melt through a man's flesh, and the potential for another mystery catalyst substance point to one thing in the Andorian woman's sharp mind. Sabotage.

Exiting the inventory screen, Asovil returns the incident report to a prominent position and scrolls through to Security's section once again. A thorough reading indicates no sign of anything they consider to be more than an unfortunate error in judgment by PO Rogers. But they aren't scientists, the blue-skinned officer looks up from the PADD in consideration. Would they even know that the chemicals wouldn't normally interact in the way that they did?

Doubting that the security detail assigned to the incident would have the training to deduce possible sabotage, and wholly concerned that any such accusation might lead to nothing after a thorough investigation leaving her with a reputation as paranoid, Asovil makes the decision to approach further investigation with all of the caution one might use when putting together a tenuous scientific theory. There's no point in seeking publication until all points have been either credited or discredited.

Rising from her desk, she straightens her uniform by tugging at the waist and tucks the PADD under her left arm. Striding from her office, she spots Ensign Maize working at a station across the room.

"Ensign," Asovil calls out. "Care to join me?"

Dalia looks up, blinks, nods, and then turns back to her screen. She strikes a couple of commands into the computer and then turns from the fading black screen and quickly steps into stride with her senior officer.

"Chief Crane's Captain's Mast is concluded," the Andorian informs her subordinate as they navigate from the lab to the corridor beyond. "She's experienced a demotion to PO First Class and will be spending the next three days in the brig. After that, she'll have extra duties assigned for fourteen days and be confined to quarters when not on duty."

Ensign Maize nods but offers no additional comments, so Asovil continues, "With this demotion, the duties previous assigned to Crane as a Chief will fall to you. Do you have the bandwidth?"

"Yes, sir," Dalia responds coolly.

"Are you quite certain, Ensign?" Asovil pauses and turns to face the blonde woman. "This is not the time to be stoic. With PO Rogers in Sickbay and PO Crane in the brig, our department is seriously restricted."

"I understand, sir," the Ensign regards the blue-skinned officer with a flat expression. "There's nothing to be done about it, though. We'll have to make due with what we have available."

"True enough," Sh'iraolnas acknowledges and begins their walk again. "All non-essential projects will be put on hold until further notice. I'll leave it to you to decide what those are and to fill the rest of the staff in on the situation. We'll likely also have to restrict off time for the next few shifts. I regret the necessity of this order, but I'm afraid that we have to compensate."

"Understood."

Reaching the chem lab door, Asovil turns and faces Dalia Maize once more. "The department will get through this challenge, Ensign. And once these concerns are behind us, we'll seek to repair the relationships. I've done what I had to in order to bring the department into alignment with Starfleet regulations. I hope that you can see that, and that I can trust you to assist me in this process."

"Yes, sir," Ensign Maize replies stiffly resulting in a sigh from her superior officer.

There's a lot of work to be done here, Asovil decides. Dalia's pale face displays no insight into her internal workings, but the frigid demeanor is cold enough to make the moons of Andor jealous and the science officer can practically sense the dislike emanating from the ensign like a gamma ray.

"Thank you," she cedes. "Now, this,"

Facing the door, she leads the ensign through and into the cleaned laboratory beyond. Lighting in the chamber flares up illuminating the sleek design, workstations, and arrays of beakers, canisters, and tubing PO Rogers has set up throughout the room.

"Roger's injuries were derived from mixing of chemicals in mislabeled containers," she informs Dalia as she begins to walk slowly about the parameter of the room inspecting each items closely. "He doesn't strike me as the type to mislabel anything. Quite the contrary. I would think he'd be hyper-attentive with his inventory. Would that be a correct assumption?"

"He has never demonstrated a lack of attention to detail," Dalia acknowledges as she stands and watches the Andorian's progress.

"Hmmm," Asovil absorbs the news while bending and resting her palms on her knees so that she can better see the boiling contents of a beaker through the refracted light of the glass. "So, why do you think, Ensign, that three chemicals with malign side-effects would find their way into mislabeled jars?"

"Perhaps it was a packaging error made before receipt?"

"Perhaps." Straightening, the CSO tugs at the bottom of her uniform jacket and moves on to the adjacent workstation. "This is where the chemicals were mixed." Turning to look at Maize, Asovil points to the scarred stainless steel surface. "According to the logs, Rogers was in the process of developing a serum for the Tholrolia Nettle sting on Japori. A serum that required absolutely none of the chemicals that caused the incident."

"The chemicals," Dalia muses, finally caught up in the story. "... what were they again?"

"Sodium Azide, Tetrahydrofuran, and 2-Mercaptoethanol," Asovil replies, resting her right hand on the cool metal of the workstation counter.

"None of those chemicals would cause the amount of damage I saw on Roger's body," the ensign remarks, purple eyes flitting to where her CO's hand sits. "Even together, I don't see why they would do what they did."

"So," Asovil turns and drags her hand along the scarring as she continues on her way about the room. "What would be reason for the cloud and the damage to PO Rogers?"

"Another chemical, or series of chemicals, had to of been introduced," Dalia concludes.

"My thoughts, exactly." Pausing once again, Asovil turns and faces the ensign. "We'll need to try to duplicate the incident, Ensign. First, in theory, and then in application."

"We could compile a list of all of the chemicals in inventory and run them through a simulation of combinations to theorize results," Ensign Maize offers.

"Yes, let's." Leaning against the counter, Asovil folds her left arm across her ribs and rest the elbow of her right on it. Using the index finger of her right hand, she gently rubs at her bottom lip. "I'll work on creating a holodeck simulation of the incident that we can plug the variables from the derived theories into for testing.

"Ensign," Lt. Sh'iraolnas completely folds her arms and regards the Terran woman across from her. "Trace the latest shipping manifest to check against your first assumption, please. I do want to rule out all possibilities."

"Yes, sir," Dalia nods.

"I will need to make a report to Captain Drake sooner rather than later, so please be promptly conclusive. Inform me of completion timelines for your computer simulations once you know what they are. I hope that a regular update to the Captain will suffice while we work to conclude the investigation."

"Acknowledged, sir," Ensign Maize responds with grim determination. "I'll get right to work on the simulations."

Posted on 2016-11-14 at 11:34:34.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Welcome back!


Glad that you overcame those RL concerns, Aletheia.

Most sewer systems aren't large enough for a person to navigate. Blossom found the only access point within five miles that will provide the team with maintenance tunnels through which you can stroll.

I have it on good authority that there will be a couple of additional posts pending (hopefully today), so I'll hold off a day or two to post a continuance.

Posted on 2016-11-14 at 09:00:14.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: With a revelation like that...


An Earth Girl would have likely bolted! Andorian... not so much.

I'll try to have another post up this afternoon. Got a way way way busy day ahead of me.

Posted on 2016-11-10 at 10:47:01.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Am I...


Am I to understand then, that the plan is for Ghlahn to find some perch where he can see clearly both directions for some distance and then to shoot out the engine blocks of a vehicle either way so as to cause an accident and block traffic? Then, will Ghlahn be rejoining the others and the group of you attempt to clandestinely gain access to the sewers through the manhole and whatever magic Blossom can work up, to attempt the school grounds as a group?

Posted on 2016-11-09 at 19:36:30.

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


Boo-yah!

OK, so I've carried on the always pleasurable interaction between Tochi and Asovil at lunch, I've added Asovil's thoughts to the Captain's Mast and engaged with Tochi after the Mast, and I've written in Asovil's initial investigation into the accident in Chemlab.

The latter most certainly can be played out further by others who would be involved in the investigation according to their department responsibilities: Cook, McTavish, Berk, Lasad... I'm also sure that Captain Drake and Tochi will be made fully aware of the incident before Asovil's report hits their desks in (although, since Tochi is on Beta, and they had lunch already, he likely already knows about it).

The ship does seem a little empty...

Oh! And I also took the responsibility upon myself to bust Lauren's rank down to Petty Officer, 1st Class and add her reprimand. And, the logbook is completely updated.

Posted on 2016-11-09 at 19:33:50.
Edited on 2016-11-09 at 19:38:30 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Lunch continued | Captain's Mast Ended | Investigation Into Rogers


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 01:00



"I see," she finally acknowledges. "So, I am to understand that you've engaged in a number of relationships in order to earn such an interest from the crew?"


Tochi offers a slow but assured shake of his head as the space between heartbeats ends with a forceful thud and his lungs are reminded to breathe. "Not even one," he smiles, his hazel eyes lit by the sincerity of his words, "Not in the way that rumors would have it, at any rate.


"We do have relationships with certain members of the crew that go beyond simple professional association, of course, but all of them are platonic," he shrugs faintly, "Vaela, Ensign P'Tammah is a dear friend, for example, and has been linked to me in rumor on more than one occasion. We'll admit, too, that, outside of Lieutenant Commander Thorson, who, unfortunately has left the Peregrine, and, perhaps, the Captain, we are closer to her than anyone else aboard. To us, though, Vaela is more like a niece, or even a granddaughter."


Leaning back in his chair, the XO chuckles and, with a thumb and forefinger, rubs thoughtfully at a spot of stubble just beneath his lower lip. "Perhaps it is our lack of a love life that makes them so eager to fabricate one," he offers with a wry grin.


Noticing Suder hoisting a tray, Tochi's gaze skips away from Asovil for an instant to glance at the approaching Betazoid. As his eyes return to meet the CSO's, again, he sighs and offers an apologetic smile. "I am sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, Asovil," he says, "If it's any consolation, at all, I've rather embarrassed myself, as well."


"All right, Lieutenants," Tam interrupts, coming to a stop next to their table and beginning to offload their lunch orders, "Two small oudin—one with fea arel, one with honar—and two steaming cups of katheka. Anything else I can get for you?"


"Unless the lady cares for anything else, Tam," Tochi offers with a tight grin and the raising of an eyebrow, "I think just some privacy. Thank you."


"No," the white-haired woman replies flatly. "Nothing more, thank you."


"Yessir," Tam nods, grinning in return but looking sufficiently cowed by Lt Zai's response, "I'll leave you to it, then." The Betazoid tucks the tray under an arm, turns, and strolls away without looking back.


Grateful for something to do with his hands, Tochi reaches for the cup of katheka as his attentions return to the blue-skinned beauty across the table. He indulges in a sip of the Andorian coffee and, once more, offers the woman a smile. "Again, Lieutenant, if I've made you uncomfortable, I do apologize, and I'll certainly understand if you prefer to limit our association to a strictly professional one." The Trill leans forward then and, resting his elbows on the table, fixes his lunch companion with a soft but serious look. "That having been said," he continues, his voice lowered a measure, "I truly would enjoy getting to know you better, and call you a friend, at least. Scuttlebutt be damned, hmmm?"


"Uncomfortable?" Asovil directs her sapphire gaze to a spot just past Tochi's head and underneath the bulkhead. Am I, in fact, uncomfortable? No. I think not. Truthfully, she couldn't decide what had worried her more, the revelation that the XO is rumored to be an amorous man, or that within two days of boarding this vessel she has already been wrapped in the befuddling blanket of scandal. Worried is a bit of an overstatement. Tochi is correct. Scuttlebutt is a thing to be expected aboard any vessel no matter how much a command staff attempts to keep it regulated. And, the Andorian scientist is certainly no stranger to rumors being generated about her liaisons. Many a fellow Imperial Guardsman supposed that she was in bed with one officer or another merely because she does not fit into the mold of standard Andorian women. Her features are softer, her hair is silkier and easier to keep, and her behavior is less aggressive. She's even had to fight rumors that she is part Terran resulting in numerous duels defending her mother's honor. Finally lowering her softened gaze to meet her lunch companion's she let's him off the hook, "I'm not uncomfortable, Tochi. Nor would I allow such petty whispers to dissuade me from pursuing an interest."


Blushing a deeper blue, Asovil wets her lips with the tip of her pink tongue and smiles a small, gentle gesture of compassion. "I've been enjoying our time together, and I feel that the past hours aboard the Peregrine would have been far less bearable had you not been a part of them.


"I hereby grant you permission to continue to do whatever this is we've been doing, and you have already earned the right to call me a friend, so I urge you to continue to do so."


Lifting the katheka to her lips she sips at the bitter fluid and closes her long-lashed eyelids allowing the full immersion experience as the liquid crosses her tongue and slips down her throat. "From a purely scientific standpoint, Crewman Sudar is a Betazoid, no? And as a Betazoid, he's privileged to empathic readings of our emotions. That he would be presenting such indicators as to support the scuttlebutt to which you refer, would that not lean towards empirical data supporting the rumors?"


Boldly raising her thin eyebrows, Asovil purses her lips in an attempt to squelch the mischievous grin forming upon them and sets her mug down at the head of her plate. Dropping her eyes from the Trill's handsome face, she lifts her fork as though it were made of glass and struggles to keep the humor of her brazen joke from erupting while at the same time fighting the sudden urge to climb under the table with embarrassment.


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


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Captain's Mess - 14:12





Lt. Sh'iraolnas watches the proceedings with impartial interest. She knows that were she in Lt. Tesenblen's situation with an insubordinate chief, she would demand the immediate resolution provided by a Captain's Mast. None of the preceding events of this particular adjudication is alarming to her even though Captain Drake's initial offering for Chief Crane to receive a court martial was a little surprising.


"As Chief Crane's advocate, Captain Drake," Zai says, meeting Silas' gaze, "we would like to offer a few words, if we may."


Drake nods. "Please do, Lieutenant."


Not surprisingly, Tochi plays the only real card in his hand—he pleads for leniency for Chief Crane, citing an exemplary career and lack of previous disciplinary issues. The Andorian is impressed that Tochi managed to find anything to defend Lauren's behavior with, but holds no illusions as to the effectiveness of the defense. If she's read Silas Drake well enough, she knows him to be a calculated and straight-laced individual who will not stand for such behavior aboard his ship.


"Again, sir," Lieutenant Zai concludes, "I present these items for your consideration in determining appropriate consequences in regards to this matter, not in any attempt to justify the Chief's actions, nor to deflect or deny guilt."


Throughout the XO's appeal, Lauren's face remains controlled and levied. Asovil regards the mousy woman's demeanor much like she would the results from a test gone awry. The Chief makes no move as though the slightest shuffle of her feet, the barest shifting of her weight, or the sound of too deep a breath might unsettle the balance of calm in the chamber. Lauren's composure is admirable and the Andorian scientist silently admits that the Terran woman has been well coached.


Once Zai had completes his speech, the Captain looks around the room. "Thank you for your input, Lieutenant Zai," Drake speaks. "Does anyone else have anything to contribute that the feel may be pertinent to the matter at hand?"


Drake nods. "Very well, then," he speaks and leans back in his chair just a bit.


"On the one hand," Silas opens, "I hear the plea for leniency, and it strikes a chord within me. The main reason I was so surprised to learn of these events was specifically because Chief Crane has always maintained a spotless service record. I have no desire to punish for the sake of punishment alone." Drake's voice begins to take on a bit of an edge. "And yet..." he trails off.


The Captain's tone grows cold. "This is the first major disciplinary action I have had to take part in since assuming command of the Peregrine. What I do here today will establish precedent for the duration of my command. I fear that if I slap the Chief on the wrist today, it will send the message to the crew that discipline and order are not the priority that they should be. I do not see exactly how I can reconcile the claim of 'no bad intentions' with the reality of a conscious, willing, major violation of the chain of command."


Drake fixes his gaze on Chief Crane. "Chief, you are a geneticist, correct?" Lauren moves her head for the first time in a while and responds with a slight nod. "With my own background light in the sciences, I would be a fool to question you in areas of, say, sequencing of unknown RNA or DNA, or in various gene therapies, or in diagnosing various genetic disorders, or in analysis of the genetic makeup of exo life forms, or in any one of a myriad of other subjects that I likely have only the most basic notion of. Wouldn't you agree that I should, in fact, trust specialists like yourself in areas like these?"


Crane looks a little dubious and speaks directly to Silas, "Yes, sir," she offers quietly.


Drake nods, "I see. Chief, from your service record, I see that you have been in Starfleet some fifteen years. However, it would appear that perhaps my copy of your service record is incomplete. Tell me, Chief... exactly how many years of experience do you have in command of a starship?"


Crane blinks. "Sir?" she asks. Asovil's brow furrows the smallest amount as she struggles to find the path that the Captain has just set them on. If the Andorian is confused, she can only judge that Lauren (whose question emphasizes her confusion) is absolutely dumbfounded.


Silas frowns. "It's a simple question, Chief. How many years of command experience do you have?"


The Chief glances at Tochi before answering, "None, sir."


Asovil also looks to Tochi wondering if the Trill has some insight into this line of questioning, but the XO's face is impassive and perhaps even a little cautious.


Silas nods. "None. Ah. Perhaps you were in some other command staff position, then? First or second officer, perhaps?"


Chief Crane looks miserable as she answers, "No, sir. I have not served in such a capacity." It is at this point that the CSO realizes where her captain is going and settles back in her chair for further observance.


Drake is aware that his approach is overkill, but he has now committed to the course. "Very well," he says. "Perhaps my copy of your service record is only missing the command training that you have recently completed?"


The Chief shakes her head slightly and casts her eyes down to the surface of the table a feeling of utter despair rising up in her chest. "No, sir. I have not completed such training."


Silas frowns again. "Hmm. I wonder, then, Chief... what exactly was your basis for believing that you were better equipped to make a command decision for this ship than I or the existing command staff?"


She won't contest that question if she knows what's good for her, Asovil thinks.


Chief Crane looks even more miserable. "I don't know, sir. It wasn't like that, sir... I was just worried about the mission..."


Shhhhh, Lauren, the Andorian urges with all of the non-existent telepathy she can muster.


Drake cuts her off. "So you told us, Chief. You were concerned that the chance acquisition of this rare plant would have become known to the diplomats, one of which would then possibly plan to disable the security protocols we had in place so as to use the plant to murder the other, and thus sabotage the peace process."


The Captain fixes his gaze on Lieutenant Berk. "Lieutenant Berk," he begins, "assuming that you were to take us by surprise, how long would it take you to kill everyone in this room with the sidearm you are wearing?"


The Chief Tactical Officer looks more than a little surprised at the query. "Sir?" he asks.


Silas narrows his eyes. "Just answer the question, Lieutenant. If you were to take us by surprise, how long would it take you to kill everyone in the room with your sidearm?"


Berk looks decidedly uncomfortable, "Er... well, sir. It honestly would only take a few seconds. I mean, we're practically at point blank range, so assuming I prioritized my threats, it wouldn't take long."


The Captain nods. "Thank you, mister Berk. That estimate, of course, is for your sidearm; if I am not mistaken, we stock phaser rifles in our armory that are more powerful than your hand phaser, and we also stock heavier weapons and explosives—some of which could, in fact, punch a hole through the hull. Do we not?"


Berk acknowledges the captain's assessment with a silent nod, "Yes, Captain. We have more powerful weapons like the ones you describe."


Drake seems mollified, "Thank you, Lieutenant."


He turns his gaze to Lasad. "Lieutenant Lasad, how difficult would it be to use the replicator to create various engineering compounds that could be used to commit murder?"


The Ops chief seems prepared for this line of questioning. "It would not be difficult, sir. There are many such compounds that could be easily synthesized. Some are toxic, others could be combined to create corrosive or explosive materials."


Drake remains impassive. "Is it not true, Lieutenant, that even the food replicators could be used in such a way? Are there not dishes in the computer catalog that some species consider to be edible—if not actual delicacies—that could, in fact, sicken or kill members of other species?"


Lasad dips his head revealing more of the intricate braid work in his hair. "That is true, sir."


"Thank you, Lieutenant," the Captain states before turning his gaze back to Chief Crane. "Chief, I could page medical if you like, but I am certain than Doctor Moore would confirm that many medicines—some easily obtainable—can be used to sicken or kill. And we haven't even scratched the surface of tricks like modifying a photon torpedo to explode within the ship or just after a launch; such an act could kill everyone aboard."


Drake taps on his PADD, and the table projector display changes to written documentation. "If you would be so kind as to examine this data, you will note some relevant facts about the wolfsbane. Yes, it is possible for the plant to cause death, but the biggest risks associated with growing it are that it can cause nausea and sleepiness in humans exposed to the aromas of the plant, and that skin contact with the plant can cause sickness. Death typically requires ingestion of the plant, but it has an extremely unpleasant flavor which curtails this - most deaths associated with it arose via application through broken skin, as in a blade coated with the plant's material, or introduction via mucous membranes such as the female genitalia."


The Captain arches his eyebrows. "I pray that you will forgive me if I found these scenarios to be slightly less likely than obtaining a traditional weapon or poison. The containment fields were more for the comfort and day to day safety of the crew than for anything else. And there is, of course, the fact that Lieutenant Tesenblen had obtained seeds for the plant, seeds that would not, in fact, yield full sized plants until long after the current diplomatic mission was completed. As such, I determined that the wolfsbane provided a negligent risk to the mission, and that the security protocols proposed by Lieutenant Tesenblen were more than adequate to ensure the safety of the crew."


Silas falls silent and allows silence to hang over the room for a few long moments. Asovil, still regarding the document Drake has presented, doesn't see when he eventually returns his stern attention to Lauren Crane.


"Chief," he speaks, drawing the CSO's attention back to the proceedings and away from the document, "I want to be abundantly clear. My issue is not with the fact that you questioned my judgment. Had you gone through appropriate channels and raised your concerns to me, I would have shared the above data with you and hopefully set your fears at ease. If, for some reason, you had information that I was not privy to, I would have gladly considered it. I do not take the safety of this ship or her crew lightly. I am responsible for more than sixty souls, and I bear that responsibility with every fiber of my being."


The Captain's voice once again takes on a hard edge. "However, much like I choose to trust you and the other specialists in the execution of your duties, so too do I expect for you to trust the chain of command. It is my job to make decisions like this one, and I do not believe that it is too much for me to expect you to understand that I will make those decisions in the best interests of this crew, this ship, and our missions. This is the entire foundation of the operation of a starship - we must trust one another to do our jobs... especially on a craft of this size, where there is little to no redundancy in any given department or position. If that trust is not there, we are doomed to fail before we even undertake a task."


Drake shakes his head slightly. "Lieutenant Zai feels 'almost ashamed' in the lack of faith we as a command staff have instilled that would cause you to feel you needed to go outside the chain of command to resolve this matter." He pauses for a moment. "I, on the other hand, am absolutely appalled that such a condition would exist to begin with."


His face a cold, stony mask, the Captain continues, "I am unaware of any situation that I or Lieutenant Zai have so grossly mishandled over the past three months to justify such a lack of faith. In fact, I can think of no situation during that time—that being, of course, the time since I assumed command of this vessel—that crew safety has ever been put at risk from any decision. It would seem to me, then, that the failing is yours, Chief, not ours."


Drake sighs as though the next thing he is going to say is a drain on his person. "The chain of command is there for a reason. If it is not respected, people die and ships are lost. It may sound like an oversimplification, but that is the absolute truth. As a scientist, you may not have been involved in such situations, but that does not diminish their reality. Absent clear and irrefutable evidence that the Captain is making a choice to unnecessarily endanger the crew or the ship, you are honor bound to respect that chain of command. Even then, many an officer has found themselves on the wrong side of a court martial for choosing to stand against it; you must realize that while you are, in fact, a trained expert in your field, the fact is that Starfleet has expended not insignificant resources to train Command officers to likewise be fit for their posts. Let the record show that I have an open door policy—you may always bring your concerns to me—but even so, I expect for orders to be followed and the chain of command to be respected at all times. There are no exceptions."


The Captain clears his throat. "Chief Crane, had we still been at port when I discovered your transgression, I would have beached you on the spot. Fortunately for your career, that was not the case. Be that as it may, here is my ruling."


Asovil's sapphire eyes drift back to the woman who is now barely holding her composure. I know the feeling, Lauren Crane, the Andorian acknowledges, wondering at the feeling of sympathy that is flooding her being. Just a few days back, Lt. Sh'iraolnas found herself facing a similar moment in time; awaiting the verdict on a decision that will impact her position in Starfleet and her future. Watching another agonize—though stoically—brings those emotions back with a vengeance.


Drake fixes Crane with his level gaze. "Chief Petty Officer Lauren Crane, I do hereby find you guilty in the matter of this gross violation of the chain of command, and find no mitigating circumstances to justify your actions in any degree. Therefore, your punishment will be as follows.


"First, you are hereby reduced in rate to Petty Officer, First Class. All privileges and benefits are likewise hereby reduced.


"Second, you will be confined to the brig for three days, during which you will subside on bread and water rations only."


One of the Trill's brows arches at that and his gaze snaps from Silas to Crane and back again. A bit harsh, Silas, he thinks. As severe and, frankly, antiquated a measure as it was, though, Lt Zai couldn't help but understand that it was being imposed by way of making a sharp point to his sentencing of the woman. Bread and water for three days, we think, is still preferable to what might have come from a full tribunal.


Bread and water? Asovil looks silent askance of her captain as her antennae speak more dramatically by perking right up atop the back of her head. Is this a Terran treatment of criminals I'm not familiar with? Trying to recall anything about this particular punishment in Starfleet's manual, she nearly misses the first sentence Drake continues with.


"Third, upon completion of your time in the brig, you will return to duty, as the science department can ill-afford being short an experienced staff member. However, for the next fourteen days, you will remain confined to quarters when not actively conducting your normal duties or such special projects as your department head may assign to you. During this fourteen day period, you will forego any 'off days' as may have been part of your normal schedule, instead making yourself available for duty shifts as needed by your department head to help cover for the strain of others being forced to work extra shifts to cover for your absence. You may visit the crew mess to obtain your own meals during this time period, but you will take said meals in your quarters.


"Fourth, for the fourteen days following this period, you will be likewise assigned extra duties to be completed once your normal daily shifts are done.


"Finally, a written reprimand will be placed into your service record."


A faintly rueful sigh whispers past the XO's lips as Drake comes to the end of his sentencing drawing the blue-skinned beauty's attention briefly from the downtrodden face of the once-chief. Aside from the bread and water stipulation (and perhaps the three days in the brig) all of the punishments levied by the Captain had been expected, the reduction in grade, restriction to limits, additional duties, all of it, and, yet, expectations aside, the Trill couldn't keep himself from feeling marginally defeated by the pronunciation. Hopefully, he managed to keep too much of it from showing on his face, though. We've done all we could do, he reminds himself as Silas takes a breath, preparing to wrap the proceedings, Petty Officer Crane understands this, we hope.


Poor Tochi, Asovil thinks with compassion. I'll have to see that he's not blaming himself for Lauren's ruling.


The Captain takes a breath. "I trust that this will be the end of the matter, and that chain of command will never again be an issue with you, Petty Officer Crane. Understand that if anything like this ever happens again, the punishment will not be so light—your career in Starfleet will be over. Understand, too, that I expect you to return to full and vigorous execution of your duties. If I find out otherwise... well, let's trust that I won't find out otherwise."


Drake looks around the room. "If no one else has anything to add?"


"No, sir," Zai offers as Drake's eyes meet his, "Thank you, Captain."


Lt. Sh'iraolnas finds herself unwilling to speak despite not being the one under direct fire from the captain she has twice seen enraged and now seen extremely thorough in disciplining crew.


Silas nods. "Very well. Lieutenant Berk, please escort Petty Officer Crane to the brig. The rest of you are dismissed."


Tochi rises from his seat in concert with Lauren as she gains her feet and offers a reassuring (if somewhat diffident) smile to the woman while Lt. Berk moves to her side. The weak smile she replies with emotes both her disappointment and her understanding. "Thank you, sir," she murmurs, "for all that you've tried to do."


Asovil slowly pushes her chair back and slides to her feet, watching the interaction between the two with an expressionless mask of serenity.


"Of course," Tochi replies with a nod, "We're sorry that it couldn't have been more."


The mousy woman forces a bit of hopefulness into her expression. "New beginnings and better memories, right, Lieutenant?" she smiles.


"Right," Tochi returns, "Remember that, Lauren."


Lauren nods in response as Lt. Berk ushers her from the room. Once she's gone, Tochi gathers his PADD from the table and, following a glance and a faint grin in Asovil's direction, strides into the corridor, himself. Returning the grin with a sympathetic smile, the Andorian remains at the table while the others leave.


As the doors to the Captain's Mess whisk shut behind him, Lt Zai pauses and lifts a hand to, first, rub at his eyes and, then, as a weary sigh escapes him, that same hand runs through his hair and comes to rest at the base of his skull. What a day, he thinks, massaging a small knot of tension from his neck as he glances in one direction and then the other along the corridor, The best we can hope for, now, is an uneventful bridge-shift.


Finally leaving the room, Asovil nearly bumps into Tochi and catches her breath as she deftly steps to the side avoiding impact. Seeing the look on his face, she reaches out a timid hand and touches his forearm. "Are you well?"


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


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 4 - CSO's Office - 14:43



"Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas to Sickbay," Asovil settles into her chair and allows it to recline. The office temperature is warmer than she prefers, but seeing how this isn't her personal quarters, she's inclined to keep it at a temperature those visiting would appreciate. Still, it is unsettling and she finds the urge to strip off her uniform jacket quite compelling.


(OOC: Sickbay's reply.)


"I'm looking for a report on PO Rogers condition," the Andorian informs the speaker while at the same time, pulling up her messages on the PADD she retrieves from her desktop.


(OOC: Sickbay's answer.)


"Very well. I'd like to be notified when he's coherent and capable of discussing this accident," she instructs while scanning the headlines of her inbox and pausing on the one she has been searching for.


(OOC: Sickbay's answer.)


"Thank you," she taps the message header and pulls up the report from the various departments who have been involved with Petty Officer Roger's accident. With the communication between her and Sickbay over, the scientist begins reviewing the report. A skilled chemist should not have been haphazardly engaged in experiments that would have resulted in the conditions reported by Medical. Further on in the report, she discovers that the chemical analysis does not reveal the nature of the burning or acidic element that ate through Roger's clothing and flesh. Pushing past additional medical information for the time being, Asovil settles on the Engineering section. Reporting on the cleanup of the chemlab, the results are symbiotic with those found in Medical. Nothing within the agents that could be responsible for the amount of damage caused to his flesh. Scrolling past the Engineering section she comes to the Security portion. Here, she reads that containers for each of the present chemicals were, in fact, mislabeled.


"Interesting," she mutters. Why would the chemicals be mislabeled, and why wouldn't Rogers have noticed?

Posted on 2016-11-09 at 19:24:05.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: So long as you weren't typing while driving... ;)


I've been doing the same thing.

I don't know that I'll have time to post today. Pretty busy with some new assignments at work, but I'll see if I can.

Posted on 2016-11-08 at 10:19:02.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Impulse!


Feel free to participate in the discussion here about the plan, and post whenever you're ready.

Everyone else needs to chime in as to their thoughts as well.

Posted on 2016-11-07 at 18:53:23.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Hee hee hee!


Is it bad that I was honestly excited about that piece, Olan? Well done!

And way to assuage the situation with Asovil, Eol.

Posted on 2016-11-07 at 18:50:43.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: TAG Eol!


You are it!

Posted on 2016-11-07 at 09:43:56.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Questions Have Risen


Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 - Observation Lounge "The Aerie" - 12:57



"What bet?" Asovil's brow furrows in consternation. "What do you mean?"


Damn the lack of sleep, Tochi grimaces inwardly, How do we even begin to explain this?


Despite the inner angst, the Trill manages to outwardly affect a soothing aspect, even as he sighs and allows his green-gold eyes to dip, briefly, to where his thumbs are nervously fidgeting over his interlaced fingers. Willing the thumb-twiddling into submission, his gaze lifts to meet the intense sapphire of Asovil's. Offering a faint shrug that cants his head just slightly to the right, Tochi smiles and spreads his hands in uncertainty. "We doubt there is an actual wager," he smirks, prefacing his explanation, "though we can't say that we'd be surprised to find out otherwise.


"As you're likely aware, Asovil, every ship and every crew has its share of scuttlebutt and speculation, yes?"


Light from the overheads glint in the deep recesses of her intense gaze and she delivers a slow nod, eyes narrowing slightly, antennae leaning forward.


"Well, the Peregrine is no different where that's concerned, Heh, Given that we're a small crew as the typically humdrum nature of our usual patrol assignments, it may even be even worse. Too much time on peoples' hands and not enough to occupy their minds, we suppose," he chuckles, unable to keep all of his building embarrassment from coloring the sound of it.


"Anyway, for whatever reason, one of the more common topics in Peregrine's rumor mill seems to be my, uh, how shall we say it," his gaze diverts from hers, again, dropping to regard his own hands for a split second as his typically roguish smile melts into something more abashed, "my personal life.


"It would seem," Tochi continues in the wake of a deeply drawn breath, his eyes lifting to once again frame the Andorian woman's face and his smile finding a middle ground between impish and uneasy, "that you may have been injected into that particular vein of gossip."


I'm part of this rumor mill, and it's concerning my relationship with Tochi? The Chief Science Officer retains her narrow-eyed intensity while chewing on the inside of her bottom lip and considering the news. Burgeoning relationship, there's a relationship to fuel the rumors? This does mean that Tochi—who the crew knows far better than I—has been demonstrating more than just a passing interest in me. Oh, Uzaveh! heart racing, the blue-skinned young woman maintains an outward visage of intense study. He appears genuinely embarrassed by this revelation. But, is it because he's had to reveal that he's known as a man of many attentions, or because he's had to inadvertently reveal a true interest in me in such a plain way? Undecided yet as to which of these considerations are the actual cause of her lunch companion's discomfort, Asovil slowly leans back into her chair and gently taps the tabletop with one finely manicured white fingernail. Pursing her full-lips, she draws a slow breath and offers a determined nod.


"I see," she finally acknowledges. "So, I am to understand that you've engaged in a number of relationships in order to earn such an interest from the crew?"

Posted on 2016-11-07 at 09:43:36.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Casino's in a bit of a fix | I need the plan fleshed out...


All right, meatbags. Yes, Casino is in a bit of a fix. Tann, I've sent you a PM and you should have received two rolls from the Inn's dice system in your email. Looking forward to seeing how you resolve this.

Everyone else, I need to know the plan in detail so I can write it out and make the appropriate rolls.

Posted on 2016-11-07 at 09:28:25.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: Trouble Brewing for Casino | Need the Plan Finalized and Outlined


Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:25 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)

"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?"

Casino stays quiet as the two police detectives talk to each other trying to bait him into revealing anything they can use against him. Well, that was going to end now one way or another.

"Look, Riggs, right?, I've told you everything I know. I have been more then helpful in your investigation of what happened. Again, I was not part of that gunfight as is clear as my handgun was not fired. I was just in the wrong place wrong time and I got shot as a result." Casino tells the arrogant prick of a cop through clinched teeth as the pain in his arm surges. So far, these two have not charged him and Casino knows per his constitutional rights, they would have to, to forcibly keep him in custody. The big solo knows he has only a small window in which to make his exit.

"Unless you plan to charge me with some crime—in which case I want a lawyer—I think I'm going to ask for my property back and take my leave." Rising and twisting to extend his still cuffed hands, he awaiting the return of his Armalite.

Both Riggs and Murtaugh follow suite and achieve their feet as Casino does, hands on the heel of their sidearms. Riggs smiles broadly at the leather-clad gunman's speech and looks down at his large hands, held outward expecting to receive the weapon they had confiscated at the scene.

"You know something, Murtaugh?" Riggs says lightly.

"What's that, Riggs?"

"We never did perform a standard Class C on this ‘runner."

"We what? You gotta be kidding me." Murtaugh steps up to Casino and places a hand on his right shoulder. "We've gotta do a Class C. Don't want the Captain getting his panties in a bunch, now do we? You just hold still, Mr. Story. This won't take long and then seeing how you are refusing medical attention, if everything in the scan proves kosher, you can be on your way. Though, we'll want to retain your contact information for the purpose of further questioning."

Murtaugh's hand remains on the heel of his weapon while his partner steps forward with the bulky agent in hand. Riggs punches a couple of commands into the device and then holds it up so that Casino can see the screen.

"Do you know what a Class C Scan is, Mr. Story?" The screen shows a small title reading Class C Scan, Department of Justice, Night City Integrate at the top with a large single button below that simple states Start Scan in the middle.

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

Maggie's Grill | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:35 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)

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

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?"

"Seems like traffic and eyes watching are the two biggest concerns to getting down the manhole." Ghlahn offers. "I am confident that I can cause two ‘accidents,' one in each direction, that will stop traffic and keep security and looky-loos busy and give us time to get in. Just don't ask how, unless you really want to know."

The Dapper Solo rubs his chin thoughtfully before replying, "Seems like Ghlan has a plan. We have some added firepower that Starlight brought to Casino.

"Besides," adds the Chairman, "seeing as it's Saturday night, no one will be that surprised to hear about a few explosions ripping up the streets and tenement buildings."

"No deaths, Ghlahn," Bloodbank cautions. "I'm OK with this plan so long as there are no innocent deaths."

"Yeah," Echo agrees. "If you can pull that off, I'm on board."

Blossom leans back in her portion of the bench seat and rolls the lolli in her mouth for a moment before popping it out with an audible suction. "So, what's the full plan?"

Posted on 2016-11-07 at 09:26:23.

 


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