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[Active] - Chapter 2 - Dorvan V

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Asteropax, Fri 10 Aug, 2018 10:54 AM
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    #301
    USS Ares
    Cargo Bay 1/"Nausicaan Brig"



    "Upon which do you place your wager, sir? The tall, sallow skinned, poorly dressed gentleman, or his shorter, greener, even more poorly dressed fellow?"

    "Neither."

    "Oh, come now, sir. Put your latinum where your lobes are."

    "No, thank you."

    "Are you out of latinum?"

    "No. I don't gamble."

    A low whistle. "I've never met a Ferengi who didn't gamble...."

    "That is because you have never met me before, Specialist," Ensign Quiir replied icily, clearly irritated. "And even if I did, I would certainly not do so on duty. And if I ever hear you suggest so again...."

    Specialist Maxime Matsoua spread his hands langiudly in a gesture of supplication. "A human expression! Not an actual request." Matsuoa turned back to the large cargo bay control room window, studying the two Nausicaans who were engaged in a serious game of dom-jot. As he watched, he continued speaking. "I spent time on Ferenginar, assigned to the Embassy security detail. Loved every moment of it. I spent my off-duty hours wandering Grub Row in the Sacred Marketplace, looking at all of the advertisement holos for their exquisite bespoke suits. I acquired a Triaxian silk waistcoat that you would weep over. One of the quadrant's foremost destinations for haute couture, and I should know. I, who was the finest dressed man in Brazzaville, nay....the entire southern hemisphere of Earth, at least. My mother used to say to me 'Maxime. You are beautiful; but learn to work, for you cannot eat your beauty. I'd say, 'Mamá, we live on Earth! Our needs are taken care of. I can be beautiful, and eat!' And the next thing you know, I was on a shuttle to Mars, to enlist in Starfleet and...'not waste my potential,' as dear mamá said."

    Quiir listened in silence. Years ago, he couldn't wait to get away from Ferenginar. He declined to discuss his own story with Matsuoa, partly because he didn't care for him, and partly because he didn't think he'd even listen, being too absorbed with the sound of his own voice.

    "Besides my impeccable taste," Maxime continued, "Discernment of people happens to be among my many talents. "All types, all species. I pick things up naturally if given enough time to observe. If I were to gamble, I would wager upon Sallow, here. He is behind in the score, but look at his eyes. The fierceness! He is a hunter. He is patient. His prey has been lulled into a false sense of security...."

    Quiir studied the game below. The taller Nausicaan grumbled in frustration as his ball ricocheted and missed its hole by microns. A mixture of groans and cheers erupted from the surrounding crowd. Quiir had to admit that the addition of a dom-jot table did appear to ease the tensions of the captive Nausicaans. There was less fighting and attempts at property damage. It appeared they had some sort of tournament going, and it was clearly capturing the attention of most of the inmates.

    "I don't know," Quiir replied, "I dont think he's going to win. He's down three balls already. There's a 87% chance he's going to lose."

    "I see you know the game, sir," Maxime drawled, "But not the players. The player is what you must watch, not the score. You see, Greeny is efficient, but he takes no chances. He is docile. Meek. He will lose."

    As the game progressed, it seemed as if Maxime was right. A few cautious misses, and a series of aggressive moves with surprisingly lucky ricochets evened the score. At the game point, "Greeny" leveled his cue, aiming carefully for a long time before firing. A taunt of "Undari!" from his taller opponent at the right time broke his concentration, causing him to misfire.

    Roars of applause and curses erupted from the onlookers. "Greeny" easily sunk his last ball into the hole and began to strut around with his arms raised. His opponent stood with his head down, brooding silently.

    "You see?" Maxime crowed, "The hunter wins, as I said. His meek companion stands in defeat. Such is the essence of what the Nausicaans call 'guramba.' Some have it, some don--"

    His words faltered as he watched the "meek" Nausicaan take his dom-jot cue and sink it into the taller Nausicaan's chest, which didn't seem possible. His opponent cut off mid-laugh to stare at the cue in fascination before dropping to the floor.

    Quiir and Matsoua gaped at each other for a second before Quiir hit his com badge. "Cargo Bay 1 Security to Brig Infirmary! Prepare for an incoming transport, one wounded!"
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    #302
     –  Last edited by LogicalLeopard; Mon 01 Jul, 2019 3:22 AM.
    USS Ares
    Deck 4 - Security Complex


    Biiqs rose and walked out toward the cells, approaching the Captain.

    "Afternoon, sir. Good to see you patched up. I was wondering if I could have a word with you concerning the transfer of the Nausicaans to another vessel."

    (((Tag: Teriir)))

    "No, we haven't had any severe problems as of yet, but the tension is growing. We tried to stave it off a bit by letting them play dom-jot, but I'm not sure how long that's going to..."

    An alarm buzzed, followed thereafter by a message shortly by Locke's voice over the intercom. "Additional officers needed in the Brig Infirmary. Incoming wounded prisoner from Cargo Bay 1."

    Biiqs frowned and looked back to the captain. "I'll....I'll get back to you," he said before running down the hall to the infirmary.

    Upon arrival, he noted that four officers were already there, weapons drawn and pointed on an empty section of the floor. A bored looking Andorian nurse stood impatiently in front of the same spot, tapping a hypo spray against his thigh. "Okay, there seem to be enough of you for protocol," he said. "Computer, lock doors. Cargo Bay 1, beam him in. You, and you, over here," the nurse said, calling Biiqs and another officer over to spaces by his side. "Mind the transporter beam."

    The Nausicaan materialized in front of them, and the nurse said sharply, "Hold his arms down!" As Biiqs and the other officer held him down, the nurse quickly applied a sedative, even though the Nausicaan appeared to be unconscious. "Keep holding his arms down. You all with the phasers, point them at the floor, not at me! I'm not dying of phase pulse infection just in case this prisoner twitches and your trigger fingers do as well." He pulled out his medical tricorcorder and murmured, "Let's see here...uh huh....ah!" He looked up from his recorder to the dom-jot cue sticking out of the Nausicaans chest, as if noticing it for the first time. With one swift motion, he yanked it out of his chest with one hand, tossing it aside. Immediately thereafter, he swung an instrument over the Nausicaan's chest to stanch the bleeding." Standing up, he announced. "There. Stabilized for movement. Please move him to the bio bed so we can actually begin to work on him. You and you. Put down those phasers and help move him. CAREFULLY NOW! He may be a Nausicaan, but he's not a side of roast targ at a Klingon feast! Miserable orderlies, all of you..."

    Biiqs helped heft the man into a biobed, and the nurse swiftly shouldered him out of the way, flinging down a surgical cover and deftly punching in commands. "Therak to Sickbay, we need a surgeon in the Brig Infirmary. Patient suffered a puncture wound to his third pulminary ventricle." To the security officers, he said, "Can anyone be bothered to strap this gentleman down with the restraints, in case he decides to wake up and thank me after the surgery? By the frost of Fen'tor, does no one know how to handle a high risk infirmary patient? Or is this the first time you've seen a bleeding body? This isn't a holonovel, it's an infirmary! There are protocols." Glaring at Biiqs, he snarled, "Who are you, anyway, some bloody engineer? You are not armed. How did you get in here anyway, are you working on the replicators?"

    Nurse Therak turned back to his work, leaving Biiqs momentarily gaping. "I'm actually the new chief of the Tactical Department," he said evenly.

    "Eh? Just the man I'm looking for. Can you schedule a training on brig infirmary procedures please," he said, still not looking up as he worked on the patient.

    A smile spread across Biiqs' lips. "I'll put that at the top of my list, Lt. Therak. You are handling the patient capably, and deserve support."

    Therak peered at Biiqs for a second through narrowed eyes, trying to assess whether or not he was being sincere. Biiqs raised his hands defensively and said, "I mean it! We have entirely too many prisoners aboard, and situations like this are bound to happen more frequently. I'll make sure a refresher memo on the proper procedure goes out today."

    Therak grunted his acknowledgement, with a thin, tight smile appearing on his lips for a second. "You're not an idiot, or a despot. Which is good for a department head. I think we'll get along well."

    "I think so, too.You keep fixing them, Therak, and we'll keep them secure. That's all I ask."

    "Understood, sir. By the way, he'll be fine. The implement punctured his least important ventricle, as I understand. I've served in the emergency ward at Laikan General, about five kilometers from the Military Academy. I've seen my share of stab wounds before from rambunctious students engaging in duels."

    "I did a semester at LMA while at Starfleet Academy in the exchange program," Biiqs replied. "I managed not to get stabbed."


    "I'm sorry to hear that," responded Therak with sincere regret in his voice. "Theres nothing like a good duel to show you who you are in this universe."

    Biiqs smiled slyly. "Avoiding being stabbed is not the same as avoiding a duel." The nurse grimmed back as he caught his meaning. Biiqs continued, "At any rate, glad to have you on the team, Lieutenant." With that, he turned to leave the infirmary just as the doctor was coming in.
  1. Ares Executive Officer

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    #303
    USS Ares
    Brig


    Attachment 9773

    Attachment 9774

    Christopher heard the request for help in the brig and told the sickbay staff that he would handle it. He grabbed a surgical kit and headed to the nearest turbolift.

    When the doors opened, Christopher let out a smile. Lt Therak was on duty, which meant that brusque was the order of the day. Christopher wondered how many times the Andorian had insulted everybody. Even though they were the same rank, Christopher knew enough of the medic to know that Therak was a very good first responder so the situation must be bad if the call for help had come his way.

    Setting the kit down, Christopher started to pull out pieces of equipment and lay them next to the unconscious Nausican. "Therak, a second year cadet could have done a cleaner job of pulling that dom'jot stick from his chest. How about I demote you to the academy so you can learn how it's done?" Christopher heard the silence around him as people were shocked to hear such a comment.

    Therak laughed, "There's more chance of me walking on the sun than of you actually having enough pull to demote me."

    Noticing the relieved looks of the brig crew, Christopher set to work, "Pass me the pulmonary reinforcer and prepare the rapid infuser. You know, one day I'll make Commodore and then I'll have you posted to the Nimbus three medical centre."

    Therak set up the equipment and pulled some things out that he knew Christopher would need later, "Ha! By the time you make Commodore, the Nimbus star will have gone supernova!"

    Not everyone could work with the abrasive Andorian but Christopher relished the banter, backed up by a deep respect for each other's abilities. Soon, they had repaired the damaged blood vessel and put a patch in place to prevent further damage during the healing process.

    Therak uttered congratulations in Klingon which meant that the whole brig heard the cry of, "Kai the Healers!"

    Placing a monitoring device on the Nausican, Christopher gathered his equipment and shouldered the kit, speaking to the brig staff, "He's all your ladies and gentlemen, call us if there's any unusual activity." He turned to Therak, "Now, why don't I buy you a drink while you explain why I shouldn't assign you to bilge duty?"

    Attachment 9774
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  2. Simulation Officer

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    #304
    USS Ares
    Holodeck 1

    Attachment 9774
    Akyv was waiting patiently in the Holodeck facility. She had produced a couch from the database & was sitting on it, reading through a medical journal. Sam entered & said,
    - Sorry, I'm late.

    She gave him a look and said,
    - I was waiting 45 minutes. What in the name of the sacred tundras took you so long?

    Sam produced two wrapped cheeseburger from behind his back & said,
    - Grabbing dinner & finishing up reports for the DOS.

    Akyv gave him a slight smile as she took a cheeseburger, saying,
    - You sure know the way to a girl's heart.
    She unwrapped the burger and took a bite out of it.

    Sam looked out at the holodeck and said,
    - Now, to pick a place to get married. Thoughts?

    Akyv said, nonchalantly,
    - Not Andor. Guests won't appreciate having to wear parkas to a wedding.

    He nodded and said,
    - I have an idea. Computer, show us Urquhart castle, 3 months after it was originally completed.

    The computer beeped & produced a beautiful castle, overlooking a foggy bay, with the wind blowing slightly. Akyv smiled slightly
    - Wow! This place is beautiful!

    Sam smiled widely & said, taking her by the hand,
    - Most folks find this place a bit dingey, but this is the beauty of Scotland. That lake there is Loch Ness.

    Akyv nodded and said,
    - I can see the beauty of the place. Now where in this place do we hold the ceremony?

    Sam said, after taking a bite out of his burger,
    - The grand hall. Its big enough to host everyone.

    Akyv nodded, took another bite & said,
    - Computer, show us the Grand hall.

    The computer beeped & the view changed to show the Grand hall of the castle. Akyv walked the length of the hall & said,
    - There's no platform.

    Sam nodded & said,
    - Easily fixed. Computer, create a platform opposite of the doors, two meters deep, stretching across the width of the hall.

    The computer beeped & produced the platform. Akyv went to the top & said,
    - This is much better. Now, seating. Computer, create church like seating to fill hall, leaving a 1.5 meter aisle down the middle, leading from the entrance.

    The computer beeps again & produces wooden pews along both sides of the hall. Sam nodded and said,
    - Perfect. Now, to decorating.

    Akyv gave him a peck on the cheek & said,
    - I'll take care of that. Head to bed, you look like hell.

    Sam nodded & headed out, leaving Akyv to her decorating.
    Attachment 9774
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  3. Ares Commanding Officer

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    #305
    Uss Ares
    Deck 4 - Security complex


    “You’re right Barron, about my parents,” Captain Teriir stated, “My sister and I are full siblings as we were both born to Derran and Vlyn. Unfortunately, he was killed before I was born in a freak accident. My mother chose to remarry and as Phyallx was the only father I knew, I’ve always referred to him as my father. After my mother died during the Border Wars, I was sent to live with him. He was . . . abusive. His actions against his own family led to his arrest and current imprisonment.”

    He avoided making any sort of eye contact with Barron, as the prisoner’s ranting and raving from earlier reminded him so much of Phyallx. The two men were not all that different in their attitudes. Teriir took a breath and continued, deciding to look into his time at Starfleet Academy, “I figured you would spot my failing grade in Starship Systems.”

    “Naturally,” Lieutenant Kurts’ voice made him turn in his direction, “From what I’ve heard of you from Locke, you always seemed to be Mr. Extra Credit.”

    “Well, I was attempting to take 6 years of Academy training in 4 so I couldn’t quite make everything click,” Teriir shrugged, “Serves me right for not wanting to take the Summer Semesters off.”

    “And dragged him off with you. He did mention it was what friends are . . . what?”

    “That’s a far cry from the person who hated my guts for the first semester,” he smiled.

    Kurts tilted his head curiously, “Any particular reason why?”

    Teriir took a deep breath, “A short time before I officially registered to become a Cadet, I got into a fight with him on Trill. Although he never admitted it, his father requested that we become roommates in order to make us overcome our differences.”

    “Doesn’t seem to have worked,” the Lieutenant grunted, “Fighting alongside you towards the end of the Battle of Aureum and the duration of the Shattered Moon says the opposite.”

    “Our rivalry was within the classrooms and training, not when we were on the front lines. We had far more important things to worry about,” he paused as he spotted Commander Biiqs moving to join them.
    "Afternoon, sir. Good to see you patched up. I was wondering if I could have a word with you concerning the transfer of the Nausicaans to another vessel."
    “Have they been causing trouble for the security teams?” he asked, pondering which of the ships they were with could be their best option.
    "No, we haven't had any severe problems as of yet, but the tension is growing. We tried to stave it off a bit by letting them play dom-jot, but I'm not sure how long that's going to..."

    An alarm buzzed, followed thereafter by a message shortly by Locke's voice over the intercom. "Additional officers needed in the Brig Infirmary. Incoming wounded prisoner from Cargo Bay 1."

    Biiqs frowned and looked back to the captain. "I'll....I'll get back to you," he said before running down the hall to the infirmary.
    “Here we go with another round of festivities,” Kurts commented sarcastically.

    Teriir huffed and shook his head and turned back to Barron. He would see what happened to the prisoner after he was done in the holding cells.

    (( TAG: Biiqs )
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    #306
     –  Last edited by LogicalLeopard; Sat 13 Jul, 2019 3:55 AM.
    USS Ares
    Deck 4 - Security Complex


    Biiqs nodded politely to Doctor Cushing as he left the infirmary, moving aside to allow him entrance. He took in Cushings smile toward Therak with bemusement. It appeared that the crotchety nurse got along better with his fellow medical staff than he thought.

    He continued down the hall to speak with the Captain. Holding up the dom-jot cue he picked up before leaving, he said, "A minor Nausicaan dispute over dom-jot. Seems like someone accidentally supplied the Nausicaans with real cues, rather than one of the brittle, correctional-issue cues that would shatter if used as a weapon. I will find the responsible party and make sure they understand the difference." His tone was plain, and not unkind. He continued, "With all of the events of the last 24 hours, and our surplus of prisoners, those are the types of mistakes that tend to occur. They are easily corrected. Our patient will be fine, however, according to the medical staff. I'll head down to the Cargo Bay and check on the situation with the other prisoners myself.

    (((Tag: Teriir)))

    "Thank you sir, that will be a big help."
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    #307
    U.S.S. ARES
    Deck 8 – Enlisted Mess Hall

    Jei looked about the enlisted mess as she entered. It was a somber but sizeable crowd that filled the enlisted mess to capacity. Security, Operations, Engineering, and other crew had gathered for Ensign Amita Patel’s memorial. The posthumously promoted hero of Dorvan VI had touched a lot of lives and this turn out showed that she had a lot of friends.

    Jei stayed on the fringe, already feeling on the verge of emotional breakdown. If it was possible, Jei would gladly switch places with Amita. She didn’t deserve to die. It is obvious that the void left in her absence was the universe’s cruel and persistent outcome in Jei’s eyes.

    A gentle yet firm voice brought Jei out of her self-wallowing and self-pity.

    “Alright people, I’d like to get started as some of you have to return to duty. We can’t leave the officers alone too long or they will foul-up all of our hardwork…” began Chief Hayes, standing with the aid of a pair of crutches.

    The assembled crowd chuckled at the opening remark meant to lighten the mood a little.

    “Ensign Amita Patel was an officer whom I was honored and am proud to have served with. There was no one better to watch your back in a dangerous situation. She had a knack to de-escalate situations before they became an issue. More than that, she was our friend. Our shipmate and comrade in arms. She always put others before herself,” continued Chief Hayes as he looked out among the gathered crew.

    Red-rimmed eyes met his firm gaze. Only his years of experience and hardship with these situations allowed him to maintain his own composure. To help himself steel himself better, he put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. Petty Officer Kowalski allowed himself to release his bottled-up emotion and was overcome with grief.

    “In her final moments, she never gave up. The situation was grim and hopeless, but Amita was a fighter and not one to give-in. She fought to the end and her sacrifice saved others. Yet, if she were here now, she would implore us to not grieve or cry. In fact, I know what exactly she would say to us if she were standing here…”

    The assemble crowd grew quiet, as they anxiously anticipated the next words as if Amita were present and would utter the words herself.

    Chief Alphonse Hayes made eye-contact with each and every person in the room, until he locked his gaze upon Amita’s fiancé, Ensign Mendoza.

    “Don’t cry for me, a smile better suits a hero…”
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  5. Ares Executive Officer

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    #308
    USS Ares
    Sickbay


    Attachment 9773

    Attachment 9774

    Christopher returned to Sickbay and found that Amita's partner had already left to attend the memorial. Christopher understood that the memorial was for the enlisted ranks. After all, she was one of them and always would be. Her promotion to Ensign had been put forward by the Captain and Christopher had been very pleased that it had been recognised by Starfleet, and approved.

    Sitting down at his desk, he opened a new file for submission to the Captain and spent the next few minutes dictating to the computer. Finally, when he had finished, he spoke up, "Computer begin read back of file C588499-A."

    =/\= Message begins - From Lt Christopher Cushing to Cpt Dyrell Teriir. Subject - Recommendation for promotion and commendation. Sir, after taking into account recent events, I wish to recommend Petty Officer Martin Kowalski for promotion. Kowalski went above and beyond the call of duty in his actions in the face of the enemy. I also wish to put Chief Petty Officer Hayes forward for a commendation for his professionalism and courage under fire and recommend promotion to Warrant Officer. This brings me to my final request, sir. I nominate Petty Officer Jeihee Han for a field commission to the brevet rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade, subject to her acceptance. Jeihee showed an incredible aptitude for improvisation under duress and her creativity saved the remaining members of the away team numerous times. Her quick thinking and adaptability harried the enemy and gave us time to ready our defences. It is certain in my mind that without Jeihee Han, the away team would have been in mortal danger and may not have prevailed. Signed - Lieutenant Christopher Cushing MD, USS Ares =/\=

    Christopher smiled to himself, knowing that they all deserved it and so much more, especially Jei. "Computer, send the message to Captain Teriir."

    =/\= Message sent =/\= piped the computer.

    "Marvellous." Christopher said and moved to the replicator to make some tea.

    Attachment 9774
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    #309
     –  Last edited by LogicalLeopard; Mon 22 Jul, 2019 4:29 AM.
    USS Ares
    Cargo Bay 1 Control Room


    At the Cargo Bay, Biiqs listened patiently to Ensign Quiir's acceptance of responsibility for the Nausicaan incident. It was longer than necessary, of course, as most speeches from junior officers tended to be. But it was delivered with an upturned chin, square shoulders, and no mention at all of Specialist Matsuoa, whose fault it had actually been for replicating the cue.

    It was all as it should have been, an officer taking responsibility for the men of his watch, and shielding them from the "righteous anger and fury" of the department head. At a monitor across the room, Specialist Matsoua sank into his chair, looking gravely ill as he watched Quiir deliver an apology that he felt should be his. When Biiqs first entered the Cargo Bay control room, Matsoua started to make a beeline toward him. But the small Ferengi jumped in front of him, told him to continue manning the monitoring station, and began delivering his report.

    Quiir had the makings of a fine officer.

    And besides, it was his responsibility. As it was Biiqs' responsibility. It was simple leadership.

    "So I can trust in you that no such an incident will not occur again?"

    "Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. Definitely, sir. I promise that I..."

    Biiqs cut him off with a raised hand. "I take you at your word, and trust you. You now know the level of detail that must go into prisoner supervision. You're not simply responsible for keeping them secure, you are also responsible for keeping them safe. But part of doing both jobs well is to understand that although yesterday these people seemed united against us, that doesn't mean their alliance is unbreakable, or that they are immune to the psychological effects of incarceration. With some species, incarceration can produce profound discomfort and sociological changes, which results in bizarre behavior. Nausicaans. Klingons. Humans. Andorians.They don't take caging well, and it usually manifests in assaults on fellow prisoners. And anything in their hands, no matter how small, becomes a weapon. I'd advise you to take a look at Van Gelder's Contemporary Rehabilitation in Correctional Settings. There is a chapter on Nausicaan supervision. It was a tremendous help to me when I served on Starbase 234."

    "Yes, sir! Van Gelder, sir. I will start on that right away, sir."

    "Good. I'll leave you all to your work, then." After a pointed look to Matsoua, Biiqs left the Cargo Bay control room, heading for a turbolift.

    The lift opened to reveal an Aurelian from the sciences division. He nodded amicably and said "Deck Three" to instruct the lift. As the lift shifted into motion, Biiqs took note of a soft trilling from deep within the long neck of the Aurelian. An ensign, he marked.

    "Shevok'tah gish?" Biiqs inquired.

    "No, Gav'ot toH'va, the ensign responded. "Are you a fan of Klingon Opera?"

    "I dabble."

    "Myself as well, sir. There's a carrotkin contest in Four Forward at 2100 hours tommorow. I'm debating between a few pieces."

    "Karaoke?"

    "The same. An Earth custom, apparently. I also have several human compositions I'm considering."

    "Good luck," Biiqs said, as the lift doors open. "Maybe I'll stop by."

    The ensign stepped off the lift and Biiqs gave him ample room, noticing a feather drift slowly to the floor. The lift soon arrived at his floor, the office complex on the ship. Biiqs entered his office and went to work, first issuing a memo reminding security officers of the proper infirmary procedures.

    The second was far more difficult. An acknowledgement on behalf of the Security Department for Amita Patel's husband and family. The enlisted memorial would be starting up soon, by his reckoning. Locke had already taken care of most of the acknowledgement, of course, adding a more deeply personal touch, having known her. Biiqs still felt that it was his responsibility to add something besides an electronic signature.

    After a few long moments, he simply wrote what was in his heart.

    I, like many, have been robbed of the chance to ever meet Amita, but I am humbled by the light she continues to cast through others after her death. I salute her memory, and grieve that I could not share in those memories firsthand.

    With deepest sympathy,

    Lieutenant Commander Biiqs Tarquin.
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    #310
    USS Ares
    Deck 8 - Temporary Quarters


    Thane awoke in the temporary quarters assigned to him the day prior when he had arrived along with the Diplomatic delegation on-board the Sydney. He was one of the last to arrive along with the families of officers being brought on board, along with two carry case lockers containing personal effects. A big Ferasan in chunky body armour coupled with a cloak made for an imposing presence but with all that had gone on it was natural to expect that one individual would be missed until the emergent threats were dealt with and some had recovered. The assigned quarters were comfortable so far even if the bed was just a bit to soft in comparison to what he was used to.

    He wasn't sure what the time was on board and had finally managed to get up finally, clean up in the Sonic shower with some mild grooming and then into his uniform. Thane had no such Starfleet uniform issued and likely would of looked extremely strange in such a thing, especially when the warpaint was factored into the appearance. He donned his personal uniform after cleaning it and spent a few minutes making sure everything was neat and comfortable before taking his Disruptor from the second case, a unit requiring his thumb to open it through a Bioscanner built into the lock. Once feeling comfortable, Thane stepped out into the Hallway and flagged down what appeared to be a member of the security staff, a young human male.

    "Excuse me. Could you check with the Captain on when I will be meeting with him concerning my presence on this ship?"

    The officer did look a little alarmed being loomed over by the beast of an Alien and nodded "I will check with him. Name?"

    "Thane Va'rek."

    =^= Security to Captain Terirr =^=


    =^= I have one Thane Va'rek, on Deck Eight here enquiring on when he will be able to meet with you on concern with his presence on the ship. Appears to be in a Klingon Uniform. Where shall I escort him to?=^=

    [((TAG: Teriir))



    OOC: Short post, hope I did it right!
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    #311
     –  Last edited by LogicalLeopard; Wed 31 Jul, 2019 12:34 AM.
    USS Ares
    Deck 4 - Four Forward



    Just where is our future, the things we've done and said! Let's just push the button, we'd be better off dead!

    After his shift ended, Biiqs decided to stop in at Four Forward to attend Karaoke night after all. He was beginning to regret his decision.

    And I...berate you!

    As Kurts' voice roared upward another octave, Biiqs tried valiantly to keep his polite smile from becoming a wince. He had taken up a seat toward the back of what was normally a junior officer's lounge. Guests of all ranks were welcomed here regularly, especially for Karaoke Night, he had been told, but he still sat far away from the action out of respect. As Kurts strutted and screamed across the stage, with Dorvan V rising in the observation window behind him, Biiqs realized he was glad he chose his seat wisely.

    "I thought you liked classical music," teased a familiar voice from behind him.

    He turned in time to see Chief Khaira sliding into the empty seat next to him. She was still in uniform, but allowed her mane of luxurious ebon hair to roam free. He was momentarily overcome by the scent of almond and regret. Biiqs words rattled around his throat like a dom jot ball before they finally emerged from his lips.


    "I...well I do. Its just...are you sure this is Classical? Seems more Talarian than Terran.

    "I'm certain," laughed Chief Khaira. It had been half a decade since he'd heard her laugh aloud, and as always, it started at her eyes and contorted her face in joy all the way down to her delicate chin. "You've never heard of Edge of Etiquette? They're probably a half century later than that dreadful stuff you like. I actually put in the request. Kurts is a music buff, but normally sings reggae for Karaoke Night. I think this is a nice change..."

    The sins of all our fathers, being dumped on us – the sons.
    The only choice we're given is how many megatons?
    And I eschew you!
    And I say, screw you!
    And I hope you're blue, too!


    With the latter, Kurts fired off a salute at Biiqs, before marching dramatically across the stage. At this point, he was shirtless and sweating. As the music creshendoed in the background, he began mock fighting the air. In his frenzied pantomime, he apparently began to be overwhelmed by the invisible enemies, taking more punches than he gave. Electric guitars wailed and cymbals crashed, with Kurts turning to face the crowd, wearied, but still standing defiantly. He belted out his last line, "We're all bloody worthless..." and dramatically fell to the floor.

    A roar of applause started in the front, where his squad mates were seated. Anyone who wasn't shell shocked enough by the performance joined in a moment later. The reception seemed pretty positive. Kurts, ever the performer, was actually carried off stage by two friends, limp and weakly acknowledging the applause with a genteel wave of his hand.


    As Khaira gave Kurts a standing ovation, Biiqs came to his feet quickly and offered his own, as enthusiastically as he could. The two sank back to their chairs, amidst an awkward silence.

    "It's not dreadful," Biiqs said, somewhat sullenly.

    "What?"

    "Dreadful, you said. The stuff I listen to. It's not dreadful."

    "Oh, it is. And you can't sing very well, either."

    "You always said you liked my voice."

    "Your speaking voice. It has harmonics similar to a phase recoupler on a transporter platform. That low hum when you're running a diagnostic? It always reassures me. I would never want a transporter platform to sing to me, however. Besides, everyone's voice was reassuring on Ronara Prime. It was a reminder that we weren't all dead."

    Her last sentence hit more bluntly than she intended, apparently. He could see a twitch in her jaw as she shifted her eyes downward to the table.

    "Fatima, I..."

    "We can still do it, you know. Close it out. It may not be the same, but there's a holodeck. It'll do."

    Biiqs paused for a moment. "It could."

    "I came to your quarters yesterday to talk to you about it."

    "I noticed."

    "We owe it to him. We owe it to ourselves."

    Biiqs paused for a moment before responding. When the words came, they were interrupted by light applause. The Aurelian lieutenant he met in the turboloft had taken the stage. Apparently, he decided to go with a Terran number himself, instead of the Klingon aria. Perhaps he was swayed by the reception Kurts recieved.

    Baby...don't understand
    Why we can't just hold on to each other's hands?
    This time might be the last, I fear, unless
    I make it all too clear...I need you so...


    Biiqs turned back to Fatima Khaira, a tight, apologetic smile stretched across his lips. He reached out and tapped the table with his palm once, an ancient Bolian gesture of agreement. "You're right."

    "Of course I am. I'll set it up."

    She was out of the chair almost too quickly to see his nod of response. He didn't watch as she walked to the door. He couldn't even say for sure she left. But the pneumatic hiss of the doors parting soon after could be nothing else, in his mind. He sighed and reached for the Bolian tonic water he'd been nursing, hoping it would help drown the past.
  6. Ares Commanding Officer

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    #312
    Uss Ares
    Deck 4 - Security complex


    “I know that a high degree of science proficiency from someone with such a heavy focus on tactical operations is unusual nowadays,” Teriir remarked, “But I had to do something about my natural curiosity about everything. I actually received the Daystrom Award for Archaeology as a Tactical Officer following the Dominion War in recognition of an effort I made to preserve some of the planet Aureum’s history. I managed to secure a number of artifacts in special cases, the kind which could survive the epicenter of a torpedo detonation, which have since been recovered. I also managed to secure a backup of the planet’s main computer. I don’t think I need to explain how significant that is considering what happened.”

    Barron looked at the Captain, perplexed about something but it wasn’t about some of the prior recognitions he’d received. Or was it? He appeared to be interested in his awards and had a hand raised slightly to ask permission to speak. Kurts noticed this too and deactivated the audio mute.

    “If you exited your Dominion War service as a Lieutenant,” the Traitor seemed to be trying to put some reason into his thinking for once, “How did you earn an award given only to the most skilled and renowned Captains in the fleet?”

    “The Christopher Pike Medal of Valor,” he sighed, “Though I am honored to have received one of the Federation’s most prestigious honors I’ve always hated how I got it.”

    “I . . .” Lieutenant Kurts’ unease caught a few people by surprise, “I’m going to step out for this.”

    Captain Teriir nodded, knowing all too well that the battle he was going to discuss had been very hard on him. Although Kurts wore a smile when floating the topic around, he couldn’t bare to go deeper into it. A part of him wanted to walk off with the Security Officer but he needed to wrap this up.

    “The Battle of the Shattered Moon was intended to be a simple rescue op. Get in, find the survivors of an earlier battle, pick them up, and get out. It wasn’t. Following our normal procedure, we sent out our shuttles and fighters to search for any other survivors while my ship, the Icarus, withdrew to the edge of the system. Enroute, we were ambushed by two Dominion Battleships. They managed to disable our shields and board us. We managed to get away but were forced to shelter inside the debris of one of the lunar bodies within the solar system, hence the battle’s name.”

    “Where did you come in during all of that?”

    “12% hull integrity. Barely enough power for life support and replicators. Weapon module and bridge destroyed. Of the ship’s original crew; 96% fatalities, not counting our pilots,” Teriir felt the weight of the several thousand deaths which occurred that day fall upon him. That opening skirmish took place over the course of mere hours. He blinked and took a breath, remembering what M’iia said earlier about being more open about himself, “The Jem’Hadar targeted Officers to try to make us give into our fears and remove any form of leadership on our side. When we had a chance for a breather, I found out my promotion to Lt. Junior grade made me one of only five officers above the rank of Ensign in any shape to take charge. My Captain was among them, since he was lucky not to have been on the bridge when it was destroyed. The Chief Medical Officer was also alright but we dared not take her away from her patients. The other two . . .”

    “They didn’t?” Barron commented quietly after a few seconds of silence passed, finally recognizing how serious the battle was and how traumatic it was to those involved.

    “They did,” he replied and nodded slowly, “And because there weren’t any Lieutenants in charge of our fighters at the time or among the other survivors they brought back with them, I ended up being the Acting First Officer. When we caught a lucky break and discovered a derelict which had disappeared years prior, the starship Keres, I was ordered to assume command. I was told to get it up and running to take as many people as possible back to Federation Territory but I ended up defying those orders.”

    “Our pilots were wanting payback for what the Dominion Battleships did so I coordinated an attack with them. The Battleships were wanting to outlast us on the edges of the lunar debris. The fighters swarmed them from every direction, taking advantage of their small size to get under the Jem’Hadars’ guns. They didn’t have the firepower to take down outright so focused on disabling the Battleships’ numerous weapon systems, shield emitters, and engines. I had the Keres attack on their port flank and grabbed their lead ship with a tractor beam. With its engines disabled, they were helpless when we forced the two of them to collide. The rest of the fight was us forming a line with the shuttles and fighters and shooting until we exhausted our phaser emitters and torpedo complements.”

    “So by disobeying orders and saving everyone, while taking down two of the most powerful ships in the Dominion, you were decorated with the highest of honors,” Barron summarized the story with a puzzled expression on his face, “But why didn’t this get broadcasted? It’s normal for such victories and honors to be well publicized.”

    Now listen to me all of you. None of you here now me and I do not care. I know none of you and I do not care. I am among the most decorated Officers in the fleet. I have earned more awards and decorations than you have ever heard of. I asked for the best crew in the fleet and I got you. Fight hard in this war for me or get off my ship. You don’t deserve to have me as your Captain. Those were the words of Alonso Alejandro, the first Captain of the Icarus. With how little respect he treated his crew, I vowed I would never become anything like him, which is why I have buried my record for so long,” Captain Teriir answered.

    He was saved from further comments by a chime to his combadge.

    =^= Security to Captain Terirr =^=
    “Teriir here,” he replied after tapping his combadge.
    =^= I have one Thane Va'rek, on Deck Eight here enquiring on when he will be able to meet with you on concern with his presence on the ship. Appears to be in a Klingon Uniform. Where shall I escort him to?=^=
    The Captain hesitated, trying to recall any prior mentioning of a Klingon Officer joining their expedition into unexplored space. He decided it would be best to meet in one of the normal places for a Captain to speak with company, “I will be in my Ready Room shortly and will meet him there.”

    With that he looked towards Barron’s cell once again and motioned for it to be sealed up once again before leaving to reach a turbolift.

    (( TAG: Thane )
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    #313
    USS Ares
    Max Storm's quarters

    Attachment 9774
    Max had taken a day of on-ship leave to set up his quarters, as he hadn't really had a chance to do so since he boarded. Max began with a large case just inside the bedroom. He opened it up & pulled out several pieces what appeared to be a sword display rack. Max had a glance around the room & found a fairly empty wall just behind the small desk in the room. He took the pieces & laid them out. Max had made the rack himself so that any time the ship had a sudden jolt of movement, the swords won't go all over the place & turn people into sashimi. Max decided to put on some music & decided on some heavy metal jams.



    As the music played loudly, Max assembled the sword rack and attached it to the wall with small shock absorbers to help with stabilization. He then placed each of his twenty handmade swords into the rack carefully, locking them in as he went. After about an hour, he finished filling the rack, then moved on to unloading some of his pictures. The first one was of an old girlfriend he had in the academy. It had a small note written on it. 'Never stray far from your heart, - With love, Angelica. PS: Still kicking your ass on the track!' Max smiled widely, thinking of fond memories with her. They were separated when they graduated & he hadn't kept in contact since. A decision that he regretted to this day. He placed the picture on the desk & then moved on to his Academy diploma. He hung it next to the rack, then moved on to a silver medal he won in the Academy marathon. He had a good laugh at this & said, "Yeah, you did kick my ass." He hung it next to the diploma & went on to place more pictures about the room. He opened another case that had several wrestling belts in it & began hanging on the walls in prominent places. He was finishing up when a chime sounded on the door.

    - COME!



    ((TAG Biiqu))
    Attachment 9774
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    #314
     –  Last edited by Krajin; Sun 04 Aug, 2019 12:07 AM.
    USS Ares
    Deck 8



    “Teriir here,”
    “I will be in my Ready Room shortly and will meet him there.”
    =^=Aye Sir.=^=

    The young officer looked back to Thane "Captain Teriir will meet you at his ready room. This way." He would make a motion to follow and begin walking towards the nearest Turbolift. It was a quiet journey for the two with only the sounds of other officers talking around them, Thane's rather heavy footfalls on the carpeted flooring didn't help the imposing figure look approachable by any means and after passing through a couple of different corridors they arrived at a Turbolift and entered. The thoughts of the crew were quite loud, like a cacophony of surface voices, emotions, baser desires and needs all filtering through the air. All active telepaths who weren't like the Vulcans, touch telepaths and to a lesser extent; Empaths were trained to be able shut these surface emotions and thoughts out. Least they go mad.

    These people on this ship were loud with their thoughts but it did provide some useful insights into their lives and events on board. Little strands of thought picked up as he would walk by crewmen. An engineer was concerned about the repairs being made post battle from the day prior, another officer that they passed had thoughts on an upcoming review that worried them. It was an interesting experience to behold just before the Lift doors closed. The ride up was eerily silent, the lift stopping to take other officers going up to other decks. He could feel the worry these officers had of such a beast looming in the back of the Lift next to one Security officer who came up to his shoulder and looked rather small in comparison. The uniform did make Thane look bigger than he was but still!

    Once they arrived at the Bridge the Security officer stepped off first with Thane following behind. He'd never BEEN on a Sovereign Class vessel's Bridge and so this was rather curious for him. He took in the layout, the officers onboard and his nose would wrinkle as he picked up on the distinct, lingering smell of Caitian was here. His eyes narrowed just a little at that and followed the Officer towards the Captains Ready room, wherein the door would be chimed. Thane retrieved from a belt pouch a starfleet issue PADD with his details on it. Then, he would wait until permitted in and when done so, would make his way into the office, taking in every aspect of the office and then the Captain himself. Likely even focusing on his surface thoughts!


    [((TAG: Teriir))
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    #315
     –  Last edited by LogicalLeopard; Sun 04 Aug, 2019 5:34 AM.
    USS Ares
    Four Forward


    Take these broken wings
    You got to learn to fly, learn to live and love so free


    He stared blankly at his tonic water for what felt like an eternity after Chief Khaira left. It was considerably less time than that, apparently, because the Aurelian lieutenant was just finishing his song.

    When we hear the voices sing
    The book of love will open up for us and let us in


    The applause drew him out of his daze, and with both hands, Biiqs reached deep within to draw himself out of his funk. A brightness returned to his eyes and a smile to his lips. They were false, of course, but an essential step in getting there emotionally. He never had to worry about fooling others with false displays, because he was so good at fooling himself, the emotions became real.

    He applauded with the rest, and then moved over to the bar to take in the rest of the show. Most of the following acts were enjoyable, and he tried to lose himself in the music. At times, he made small talk with the bartenders, and chatted up passers by who seemed inclined toward a friendly word. He made sure his melancholy made no further appearances, and by the end of the night, he had a hard time remembering how he felt earlier.


    It was late when he left Four Forward. He lingered long enough to have a drink with the winner. Kurts had no worthy opponents, apparently, and took first prize. The Aurelian lieutenant, named Shaz-Bek as he discovered, took fourth. As he left and walked back to his quarters, he remembered something.

    "Computer. Direct me to Lt. Maxwell Storm's quarters."

    The computer chimed in response, and a map appeared on a nearby panel, with a colored strip leading the way. When he arrived at the door, he activated the chime.


    USS Ares
    Max Storm's quarters

    Attachment 9774

    - COME!


    Attachment 9774
    He hesitated slightly on the threshold, as he was treated to a mild sonic assault.

    Here you go, create another fable
    You wanted to!
    Grab a brush and put a little makeup
    You wanted to!


    "A...a fan of the classics, I see?" Biiqs said, voice slightly elevated to be heard over the music. "I just dropped by to tell you, the metal you wanted is available in the armory. We did an analysis on the bomb casings, and some came back clean, so we won't need them as evidence."