Cold Station Theta Nova, Anodyne Productions' premier RPG management software en-us Copyright 2020 Word Spreads Quick
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Earth Station
Timeline - 242007.21

It was late. The sun had already set on Earth Station. Darkness wrapped around the entire station as it orbited Earth. It had been several hours since the station's crew changed over to it's night shift. It was during this late hour when a single subspace signal finished it's long slow journey across the galaxy. A older man wearing a gold star fleet uniform sat at communications console. His feet kicked up on the empty seat beside him. He was half asleep when the signal arrived at the station causing his console to beep. Lazily, he sat up and pressed the buttons to open the message. His eye's widened as the picture appeared on his screen. He jumped up grabbing a data padd off the desk and quickly downloaded the message. Once the download was complete he bolted from his station exiting the communications room.

The man, in his late 30's ran down the corridor. He was running as fast as he could. In his left hand contained the data padd which displayed a picture of a strawberry blond woman. His heart raced as his feet pounded the floor decking. His black boots thumping with each and every step. He knew this woman. He knew her well. He knew her well enough to know that she was important to someone. He knew her well enough to know that he needed to tell HIM.

The man came to a halt before a set of heavy doors. He pressed the button next to the door to inform the room's occupant of the visitor. The door slide open to reveal an office with a large man sitting behind the desk. "I hope you have a good reason to be bothering me Star Fleet." The man said with a raspy voice.

The Star Fleet officer stepped in letting the door close behind him. "Sir..... Mr. Cavender.... You.... You need to see this..." He set the data padd on the desk.

The large man picked up the padd and looked at it. As he looked at the image displayed on the screen, his face turned red with anger. The screen of the data padd cracked and crunched in his grip. "Where is she?"

"Mr Cavender, that message is from Cold Station Theta." The Star Fleet officer said.

He tossed the broken data padd to the floor. "So the little wretch is still alive huh. Looks like I'm going to visit Cold Station Theta. Make my ship ready."
Mon, 03 Aug 2020 05:42:29 +0000
Rohani & Khaval | Sharks In The Water
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Unnamed Spaceship, not far from Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD 242007.14

They were a rogue group, like so many others. A bit on the smallish side, just large enough to avoid being snapped up by the big sharks, small enough not to be an appealing target for others. It also helped that one of their main associated groups (people like them never had friends, only associates) was one really big fish in the pond. Rohani's group occasionally helped them, and in turn, they gave him some extra protection. It was a deal which worked perfectly for both groups.

And of course, Rohani's group had some unusual defenses. All of them had one or more special talents. Telepathy, telekinesis, persuasion, shielding… Rohani's people had it all. And they were all fiercely loyal to him. It was, of course, a forced loyalty, but to him that didn't matter. It worked, and that was the important bit.

But Khaval could sense he wasn't happy.

Not 'sense' in the usual Head way. Rohani was, as always, equipped with psi-blockers. He could read other people, but not the other way around. Even though Khaval and he had been, well, associates, for a long time and had been through many a thing together, he always wore them, even around her. She was glad for that. His mind was a minefield, with a carefully constructed honey pot to lure other heads in and trap them. That was how he bound them to him.

She knew him well enough, though, to know his moods from other signals. The way he moved, his posture, the way he spoke. Was this, Khaval wondered fleetingly, how normies always had to function? She shivered at the thought and pushed it away, then rose and strolled over to Rohani. "What's bothering you?"

"That miserable station," Rohani growled. He didn't have to elaborate. Khaval knew quite well which station he meant.
"We've been over this, Rohani," she said coolly. "Unless something changes, it's too much effort to establish a base there."

He looked up, dark eyes burning. "Yes, yes. 'Too far out of the way, traffic too limited, base of operations of the Cleydinhall fleet, not worth the effort'. I know the arguments. I've made them often enough." His voice was dull, monotonous. Another bad sign, Khaval thought.

A grim smile tugged at one corner of Rohani's mouth. Of course he had caught her thought, mental shields or no. "Ah, Khaval, you know me too well. Yes, I wouldn't have brought it up if something hadn't changed."

"Really?" Khaval had never understood Rohani's obsession with that out of the way hole. Sure, it might be strategically placed, close to a nebula which never had been fully explored, close to two other major powers which would make for ample smuggling oppurtunities and other lucrative activities, but she didn't have to think long to find several other out of the way places which were easier to pick as a base of operations. But it was important to him, for some reason. "What?"

"Have you heard of something called the ' Interstellar Cultural Exhibition and Exchange'?"

Khaval snorted. "Should I have?"

"I doubt it," Rohani said with a shrug. "But this exhibition thingie is a travelling band of people of various races, travelling from station to station to… I don't know, bring culture and stuff to the outlying regions, I guess."

"And you want to use that as a way in." Khaval sighed. "How? Just join their little fleet and convince them that we're part of the crowd?"

Rohani leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded together in front of his face. "I must admit, the thought had crossed my mind. It has a charming appeal, doesn't it? But no. Too much work. Physical records need to be altered, etcetera… Nothing we can't do, but why go through all the trouble just for a little fun? No… But the whole circus will go to the station. There will be more visitors. They'll need extra supplies. They might as well roll out the red carpet and place a sign "Welcome!" on the station just for us."

Khaval started to pace, moving like a caged panther in the small space. "Fine. So we pretend to be a supply ship? Or are we going to be good little visitors?"

"Whichever you prefer, dear." Rohani grinned, but his eyes remained dark. "I don't care which, as long as we're in. And once we're in… we're in."

I've heard that before. Khaval made no attempt to shield that thought. There had been other attempts on Cold Station Theta. One such had lead to the kidnapping of their chief medical officer. The results of that kidnapping had been rather messy for the party involved, to Rohani's vast amusement.

Another group had tried to establish a base of operations on Cold Station Theta and that had ended with a dead operative during a 'spontaneous' brawl. No-one had showed up to claim the Nausicaan's body, which only served to underline the man's failure.

"Ah, but you never heard me say it," Rohani said, dark eyes sparkling. "I want that station. And one day, soon, I shall have it."

This time it was Khaval's turn to shrug. "I'll go make the preparations." She whirled around and walked out. Rohani barely noticed her leaving. He stood in front of the observation window and looked out at the moving stars. There, at the end of this trip, his station would be waiting for him.
Tue, 14 Jul 2020 15:46:10 +0000
"I swear it's not a bribe!" vol 2
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD 242007.05

Time seemed to slow when the commander took his first sip. If the perfume of the spirits was a flower, the sip was the bouquet: a quick succesion of different flavours, building on and enhancing each other. The next exhalation took all of the flavours with them. "That's… an interesting effect," he said. Buried deep under all those sensations was the taste of alcohol, the ground tone of the bouquet. Yes, that one glass would be sufficient to get someone with a low tolerance for alcohol at least tipsy, if not more. He saw the watchful expression on the Bolian's face – no malice there, no sense of 'let's see the CO get smashed', just the genuine interest of someone sharing his passion – and grinned back.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” Noq beamed as he held is glass up again, observing it's contents. “Something to do with florotanins, which, if you didn't know is said only to exist on Bolius. Honestly, in my opinion you'd think this stuff would be one of our major exports. Considering the popularity of the Bank of Bolius—which generally means that it's customers should have had an opportunity to visit our little world just once—more people would have had the opportunity to try it out, maybe take some home to share with friends and family, but who knows? Maybe I just haven't been invited to the kinds of parties where it would be served. Something lilke the VIP area of the Bajoran Festival of Lights or something, with the Kai and her besties,” he said smiling.

“So, were you born on Earth or elsewhere? “ Vodd queried. “The reason I ask is if there's anything you'd recommend I try out. Something that most people wouldn't know to look for, y'know? I enjoy finding those little jems in the diverse cultures that I have the opportunity to meet. Come's with the badge, amIright?”

The commander smiled at Noq's flood of words, and wondered to himself what he enjoyed more: the drink or the man's obvious enthusiasm. The question, however, brought him up short. He brushed his wild curls back with one hand – an exercise in futility. "Most likely not on Earth, but actually I have no idea," he replied after taking another sip. "I have no memories before I was found in an escape pod, some fifteen years ago. I did some travelling since then, though, before joining Starfleet. And actually, the station here is surprisingly cosmopolitic for an out-of-the-way place. There's a Stenellian deli here, opened just last month, and it's well worth checking out. And if you think about exporting on a small scale, you might want to head over to IDIC or the Blues Brothers. The one's a restaurant and the other a jazz café, and they're both run by a Bolian and an Andorian. I know they're always on the lookout for new things, they'd be delighted if you show them this."

"That would be amazing!" Noq exclaimed. "Even so, I hope you don't mind if I ask you a personal question..." He paused; there was no intent to build suspense to the question that might be asked, he just needed a moment to figure out the best way to ask it. Cramming everything he wanted to say into a short series of words had always been difficult for him. This question needed to encompass all of the secondary questions, such as 'where was the escape pod from' and 'was this before, or after you went to the Academy?'

"Not at all. Asking is the best way of gaining information. Well, usually," he amended. "A good way, at any rate. Anyway, go ahead."

"So where was the escape pod from? Were you already in Starfleet or was this before you went to the Academy? Where were you found? Were there other survivors? Is Commander Merlin even your real name? Like, do you have a family out there somewhe--wait, sorry. If you did you either would or wouldn't know. Did they have to tell you how old you were when you were rescued? I would imagine that Starfleet would have all your biometric data, and if you weren't serving yet chances are the Federation would..." He trailed off there, so fascinated with the man there were too many questions coming to mind all at once.

Unexpectedly, the commander grinned. "All very good questions. Unfortunately, very few of them have good answers. No, I wasn't in Starfleet yet. And actually, I was found right here, the escape pod came drifting out of the nearby nebula. It has never been properly explored, although many attempts have been made. During the last one that I know of, the ship doing the exploration got damaged and ended up in the past, so…" he shrugged, "it's a weird place." He took another careful sip of his drink. "I was the sole survivor. Well, the pod was only big enough to contain one person…" An odd expression crossed his face. "That reminds me, I've got to ask the CEO if he found anything… Anyway." He gave a breezy wave with one hand, as if to dispel the stray thought.

"They couldn't quite determine my age. Maybe some odd data interference? I don't know. My biometric data was unknown, so they never figured out who or what I was. So it's quite likely that Merlin isn't my real name – it would be an incredible coincidence if it is."

Nodding as he listened, the Bolian's mind began to churn. "How old do you think you are?" he asked. "When you think about it, where do you imagine you're from? Is it like the future, or maybe the past? Desert planet, maybe a giant ocean situation? Speaking of which: can you breathe underwater? No, wait, sorry... Forget that last one" he chuckled as he reined himself in. "I'm not gonna ask if you can fly, that's ridiculous... Right?" he asked as he leaned in, doing his very best to to hold a deadpan expression and failing miserably.

"I don't know, and I don't know. As I said, the ship that got lost ended up in the past, and came back. And there was chroniton decay when the pod was found, but they couldn't determine if that was from the past or the future, or something else entirely." He made that airy wave with his hand again. "As for environment… I don't know either. I've wandered around for a fair bit before joining Starfleet, and I seem to thrive well both on Vulcan and on Andor, so there's a pretty wide range. I can't fly, at least as far as I know, and I'm fairly good at swimming and holding my breath. Better than a human, not nearly as good as a Stenellian." That last bit he knew from experience. He resisted the urge to flap his arms and try to fly. "So, all in all, a lot of questions and few answers. So I tend to focus on the future, rather than the past. If I ever happen to learn more of it, that'd be nice, but since there's so much more to explore, I'd rather focus on those things."

"I can understand that," Noq replied. It had been said that he himself was not the type to dwell on the past--unless of course there was a great story behind it. "So how long have you been here?" he asked. "And for that matter, what was your primary discipline as you moved up the ranks?"

"Um… a couple of years." Time, he thought, was always such an elusive thing. It was weird, in some aspects he had an excellent grasp of time, but for those 'how long' questions things seemed to blur – without looking up the actual dates, he had no idea. "And StratOps, or Tactical, depending on where I am." He took another sip, the last one as it turned out. With a rueful sigh, he eyed the pile of PADDs on his desk. "Much as I enjoy this, I do still have some work to finish," he said. "Maybe we can continue our conversation at a later time, yes?"

"I would love to," the Ensign beamed, already looking forward to his next interaction with his new CO. "I really didn't mean to keep you this long, so thank you for taking the time to chat with me. I know that you have a lot to do, and a little rest before tomorrow morning wouldn't kill anyone either," he chuckled as he rose from his seat and extended his hand.

"It has been my pleasure." He rose too and shook the young Bolian's hand. "Rest well, and I'll see you around." Then he strolled back to his desk and grabbed the next PADD.

=/\= Ensign Noq Vodd
Chief of Operations
Cold Station Theta


=/\= Commander Evan 'Weirdo' Merlin
Commanding Officer
Cold Station Theta]]>
Sun, 05 Jul 2020 19:27:57 +0000
"I swear it's not a bribe!", vol. 1
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD 242007.05

=/\= Ready Room, Cold Station Theta

Ensign Noq Vod was practically vibrating as he stood before the closed doors of Commander Merlin's office. It had taken him all night to decide when, exactly, was the best time to officially report for duty. He finally decided that the end of shift the day before was the best bet. On the one hand, if he really messed up his first impression the offended parties would have a night to sleep off their irritation; by then he would have figured out the best way to make a great first professional impression. His plan was foolproof.

This being his first time reporting for duty for an official Starfleet deep space assignment, he wasn't sure what to bring—it was gauche to show up empty handed. Dinner seemed a bit inappropriate as the Commander may have already had plans. Oh why hadn't he looked up the man's service record before coming here? Was there enough time to glance over it now? No... he'd already rung the chime, and the bottle of authentic Bolian spirits he'd finally chosen was getting cold.

What if the Commander didn't drink? What if he drank too much? What if he thought the bottle was some sort of bribe? Noq couldn't imagine what he'd be bribing the Commander for, but the possibility that his gift may be misconstrued suddenly breached his consciousness. ~What's the worst that could happen?~ he thought, in attempt to calm his nerves.

That line of thought had the exact opposite effect.

All in all, the Commander didn't spend much time in his ready room. Usually he preferred to be out there, among people, either in Ops or in other parts of the station. But from time to time he needed to be here. For private, official meetings, for the occasional visiting dignitaries or brass, and above all, but mostly for keeping on top of the administration.

Administration! Even with brilliant inventions such as XO's and yeomen, there was always a mountain of PADDs waiting for him. "PADDs breed," he had heard more than one Captain complain, and he had discovered the hard truth of that soon after taking command of the station. He could clear his desk in the morning, and by evening a fresh pile would be waiting for him. So he had cleared two 'PADD hunting' moments in his schedule, one early in the morning and one at the end of day shift, so that at least he could close his door on a clean desk.

He was right in the middle of reading a lengthy report about the new health and safety procedures of visiting ships when the chime rang. He straightened in his chair (his usual reading positions had been likened by one roommate, back at the Academy, as 'something from a game of Twister') and called cheerfully: "Come on in!"

“Commander!” Vodd exclaimed enthusiastically as he entered the office, crossing quickly with an outstretched hand. Handshakes were among Noq's favorite human customs, along with the fist bump, thumb-wars, and most especially the high-five.

“Is it Captain, or do you prefer Commander? I am aware of the human naval tradition where the CO is addressed as captain no matter their rank, but with this being a space station does that rule apply? I suppose it's like that other tradition where the females are addressed as 'sir' but in practice some prefer 'ma'am.' Naturally that wouldn't be an issue in this case, unless it is... You know, preferred pronouns and all.” Vodd paused, as if realizing that he was talking too much, but he just had one more thing to say: “My pronouns are he and his, by the way,” he concluded with visible effort.

At the Bolian's enthusiastic greeting, the Commander jumped to his feet and shook the man's hand. "Ensign Vodd, yes?" he said with his customary grin. "Welcome to Cold Station Theta. As for the rank, I usually just go by Commander. It's easiest, just count pips and go. As for names and pronouns, I'm not really attached to stuff like that, so use whatever makes you comfortable." He gestured to the curved couch on the other side of the room. "If you like to take a seat, let's use that one. I don't like to talk to people with a desk in between if I can help it." He babbled as much as the Ensign did, but was considerably more at ease with it.

“Thank you, Command-sir,” Noq quipped as he moved to the couch, chuckling at his own joke. “Hmm... not too bad. Did you order this yourself, of did it come with the nice digs?” he asked, running his fingers along the armrest. “This can't possibly be standard issue.”

He grinned back as he strolled over to the couch and draped himself into the other corner. "Came with the place," he replied. "All I had to do was add some little knick-knacks here and there." He gestured around. The 'knick-knacks' were diverse: a Vulcan harp hung on the wall, a nearby shelf displayed a few flame gems, a 3D chess board, a small statue, an astrolabe and some other interesting things. "Oh! Would you care for something to drink?" he asked, suddenly straightening.

“Permission to speak freely?” Noq asked. “I brought you this—Bolian spirits--fresh from my storage unit, and prior to that: the original distillery on Bolius. It's best served at least at room temperature, but a lot of people like to warm it up just a bit to give it that real kick. I'd say 'extra kick' but there's no such thing when it comes to Spirits. Officially your shift is over, my orders don't kick in until next morning, and if you have the time...” he said with a wink for good measure.

Well, that was a new one! He suddenly regarded the newest member of his crew with more interest. Not many people would offer to share a bottle of spirits with their new CO on their first encounter. He imagined trying that with Captain Farragut of the USS Pitcairn, the first ship he ever served on, the ink on his diploma not even dry. He could just imagine the look of stern disapproval on the old man's face. 'Old Ironheart', he had been called by the officers… well out of his earshot, of course.

"That's… certainly very interesting," he replied. "Bolian spirits… I don't think I've ever tried that before." He referred both to the drink and to the action itself, of course. "Well, the night's still young. So why not?"

Vodd smiled, rising to heat the spirits and replicate a couple of glasses. “You know, the interesting thing about this beverage is the way it's distilled. Y'see while it's traditionally served hot—about 100 degrees, slightly above human body temperature—Bolian spirits are actually cold filtered and stored at near-freezing temperatures. There's something about the chemical reaction to the application of heat that truly brings out the flavors. It's said to be an acquired taste, and that's a statement I would never try to refute. I remember the first time I tried it; and interesting tale that starts with a misplaced glass and ends with a certain aversion toward it.”

With the glasses replicated, and portions pored as he'd been talking, Noq returned to the couch and offered the Commander a glass. “It's so rare--because they only make a certain number of bottles each year due to the fermentation procedures—many off-worlders aren't even aware it exists! Thankfully, my father built his career making the stuff, and upon retirement started making his own varieties in his workshop, which, by the way, my siblings and I helped build back when I was in my teenage years.

“In any case, I'm getting off topic. Now there is a couple of little things that we're known to do, and the first is to give a freshly pored glass a quick sniff.” Noq raised his glass to his now, and closing his eyes inhaled the fumes. “Ah, yeah, this is a great batch. 2403 if I had to guess. What do you think?” he asked.

"I love it when people are passionate about something, and it shows," the commander replied with a smile. "I'd love to hear that tale about your first time at some point. Let's hope my first time will be less memorable, though." It probably wouldn't. His tolerance for alcohol was way higher than that of the average human. He could only remember being mildly intoxicated once, and that was after a Klingon had challenged him to a drinking contest. Another interesting tale, perhaps he could tell it once in exchange for the one about the misplaced glass.

He sniffed the glass, as suggested. A rich smell, like a blend of colours, rich and aromatic, with a deep ground tone and very light, subtle overtones which only gradually unfolded. He voiced his observations, speaking slowly, analysing the sensations carefully and delightedly. "It is certainly promising," he concluded.

"Ah, fantastic!" Vodd exclaimed with a little bounce in his seat, "now that you've gotten an idea of--Oh!--wait--sip first." He raised the bell-shaped glass to his lips and took only the most delicate of tastes, his experienced tongue ready for the explosion of flavors that filled his palette like a warp core breach, then all but vanished a split second later; almost like a gust of cool winter air while standing in an endless, arid desert. With a satisfied grin he turned to gauge the Commander's reaction.

[To be continued...]]]>
Sun, 05 Jul 2020 19:19:29 +0000
LtCmdr. Stacker & Cmdr. Merlin | Preparations
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD 242007.04

"So, about this Interstellar Cultural Exhibition and Exchange…" It wasn't hard to guess what the main topic of today's breakfast meeting would be. All the other items on the PADD were routine, the usual list of reports: repairs, security reports, and other status updates which might be relevant for their morning meetings but which usually were little more than items to be crossed off the list. This upcoming exchange was not merely another item. And the list of wishes, suggestions and demands which had streamed in from various departments after the Commander's message yesterday had only made him realise that 'within the week' was far too little time to get the show on the road. Unless they could pull a miracle out of their hats. He had seen this crew work miracles a few times in the past. Maybe they could manage another one. Maybe.

The lieutenant commander glanced up from the PADD that had - until now - held his rapt attention. It clicked with that too-familiar plastic-on-metal snick as he put it down and took a breath. "There's considerable interest from all departments. I think the chiefs and officers - the veteran officers, at any rate - probably realize by now that there's going to be a high workload in preparation. The junior enlisted and civilians seem to be looking forward to the change in pace and 'something new.'" The last was said with a tinge of knowing. Once upon a time he too had been a junior enlisted man, or so said his service jacket. He too had looked forward to the sights and sounds of a diversion from duty and monotony.

He ran a hand through short, greying, hair while he thought. "Do we know how long it'll be with us for?"

"A minimum of four weeks," the commander replied promptly. "With an option to remain up to four weeks longer, depending on how popular the exhibition is and other factors. Ideally, they want to give as many of the ships of the fleet the chance of visiting, but that largely depends on their rotation roster." He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his red leaf tea. "I have a list of ships which are expected back within the time frame, but you never know who else comes dropping in at short notice." That list was on another PADD: Starfleet vessels, civilian ones, merchant ships and a few guests. Flight Control would be busy.

"Security and customs will be stretched thin." There was a pause while he took a sip of water; a response to a case of a sudden dry throat. Mercifully the glass didn't repeat the noise of the PADD. "We might need to pull in extra bodies if we see an unanticipated spike in shipping traffic. The intelligence section should probably be locked down as well. Configure only one turbolift to open on those decks with all others blocked by software and hardware." He picked up the PADD and made a short note; making sure the Campbeltown was gone, the screen said when he put it down again.

"Absolutely." The commander nodded, glancing down at his own PADD. "An increase in security might not be a bad idea regardless. Since that Nausicaan got murdered, I have the feeling there have been more shady types on board of the station. Never enough to be sure, but I know there are parts of the station which are less well monitored than I like." He thought of the deep parts of the station, places where people rarely came, if at all. He wandered there at times, usually in the middle of the night when most people were asleep. He had never caught anyone where they didn't belong, but he sometimes had the impression that the place was less empty than it was supposed to be. Just a feeling, or something more? He had learned to trust those feelings, even though they seemed baseless and irrational.

"I have to agree. The station is big, and nobody wants another Versailles." A light snort from his guest. One that spoke volumes about his own personal thoughts. Years after it had happened, the loss of control over the lower half of that station - to criminals - still reverberated within some elements of Starfleet. Intelligence capabilities in the borderlands alone had undergone a sweeping overhaul. The tone was more thoughtful when he resumed speaking. "There are some things we can do on our own, though. More monitoring devices, increased patrols. Close off unoccupied areas." He shrugged.

"It's all on the list. But you know, limited resources and all that… The risk with closing off unoccupied areas is that if people find a way to access them after all, it's really going to be hard to find them." He blew a loose curl away from his forehead and grimaced when it slid back. "But yes, that is one of the things I worry about. Maybe if we have a concrete incident somewhere down there, we'll actually get Sector Command to assign more people to CST instead of the current policy of 'open a few positions and hope that people apply to serve at the tail end of Federation space." He waved his hand, the same gesture he used whenever he was rambling. "Be careful what you wish for, I suppose. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Increase in security for the duration of the exhibition, check. I'm sure the diplomats and antropologists will have a field day these weeks. Catering… I'm sure we can commission one or more restaurants to cater for our visitors. Gives us the chance to showcase our station in return."

The visitor thought that over for a moment. "We'll probably need several, especially if there are a large number of visitors," he finally allowed. "And the cuisine should probably be varied. I wouldn't care to supply Klingon food to a Tellarite." Nobody would. The notoriously-cranky species had mellowed as a whole in the last century or two but their quarrelsome nature remained intact. Setting off a fight by providing them still-wiggling worms wouldn't do anything for the station's reputation. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought again. "Supply. The restaurants will need more supply brought in to feed all these visitors. So more ship traffic. And we'll need to screen the inbound cargoes." Smugglers would treat the opportunity as a field day unless countered, it went without saying.

"Oh yes. I have invited the proprietors of the Heart of Targ, IDIC, the Temtibi Lagoon, Point Lookout, the Star of Apsha – that's the name of the new Stenellian deli, by the way, and Mount Seleya this afternoon, to discuss arrangements. That should give us a wide selection of food and beverages." The mental image of a Tellarite getting up in a Klingon's face made him smile, but just for a moment. An entaining thought, as long as it stayed a thought and wouldn't stray over into reality. There had been a few brawls on the Promenade in the past and none of them had been even remotely pleasant. "And yes, and yes. More ship traffic, so more work for Flight Ops, and that last bit brings us back to more security. It's on the list." He sighed, tapping the PADD on his desk. Then he looked up again.

"Location. The Promenade is tempting, but all in all it's too small to house a host of visitors as well as the regular public. Cargo or landing bays would be an option in terms of space, but they lack ambiance and we'll need the space for ships and storage. So I thought about the Arboretum. A lot of work went into the place and it'll be a great way to demonstrate the power of the science and environmental departments. It'll mean overtime for them, though, to minimise the damage done to the area when a large crowd settles there for weeks."

The guest pondered for a moment, brow furrowed in thought, before finally nodding. "It wasn't designed for an event like this, but if we want to showcase the technical and engineering expertise that went into the station ... like you said, it's the best location to do so. And it's the largest space available. Science in particular won't be happy, but I can smooth ruffled feathers there."

"Very good." The commander ran his hand through his hair again. "I think that covers just about everything right now. Are there other urgent matters that need to be attended to at the moment?"

"Not that I'm aware of." It was a simple enough answer. It also had the virtue of being true, and that continued to be a refreshing change in life.

"Good, good. Then I'll see you same time tomorrow." He picked up the PADD and the remains of his breakfast. Time to get started. So much to do, and so little time…

Commander James Stacker
Executive Officer

Commander Evan 'Weirdo' Merlin,
Commanding Officer,
Cold Station Theta]]>
Sat, 04 Jul 2020 07:41:52 +0000
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town












"And Merlin?" Xue countered sharply.



"Never will."














Commander Valeese
Chief Medical Officer


Xue'Daio Nox Tr'Verelan
Empress of the Stenellian Ascendancy
Queen Regnant of Apsha
Queen of Aliene]]>
Mon, 29 Jun 2020 02:11:02 +0000
Empress Xue'Daio Nox & Cmdr. Evan Merlin | Ties That Bind
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town

Two days ago things had started changing. At first it was but a niggle and pinch followed by the irritated kick of the child within her. Xue'Daio had ignored it, passing it off as nothing more than another reminder that her body was, quite literally, stretched to its limits.

Two hours later the niggle was back, this time manifesting itself as a tightening pain that rolled from the small of her back along her hips and then up the length of her burgeoning abdomen. It was mild, and an annoyance, but it left her with little doubt that the birth of her child was rapidly approaching. From the first tiny pangs to the last drawn out contraction, it could as long as a week... Changing it, however, wasn't her idea of a good time.

It would be two minutes, or less, until her ship docked. Waiting for her, and of this there was no doubt, would be at least one of the station's Command members and likely a whole throng of gawkers wanting to catch sight of the illusive Empress of the Stenellian Ascendancy. She'd do her damnedest to wave and nod as her retinue pushed forth on a journey to the same ambassadorial suite she'd conceived this life within. The very thought brought a whisper of a smile to her features - it was uncanny and strange how things wound up coming full circle.

"We are docking, your Majesty," She nodded gently to her aid, knowing full well what the words meant and what was expected of her, "Be prepared. We'll be moving as quickly as possible to get you to a quiet environment. Station Command has been informed of our intentions." Again, Xue nodded and silently peered through the window beside her. Outside, the station was illuminated in rich gold and copper, bathed by the light of the churning nebula behind them both, and near her lurked a familiar ship. It would seem it was near impossible to avoid the Vindicator or her Captain... But in an odd way, it was comforting to know that they were near.

The Empress sighed when her small ship shuddered, coupling with the station. It meant that the end of silence and peace had come, that life would transition once more, and the future awaited... Boldly. A thin gossamer veil of silver fell across her face, guarding her eyes and the vast majority of her expressions and features from those who would come to gaze upon her. "I am ready." She nodded, finally finding her feet and the beginning the agonizing walk truly began. Her belongings would either be transported or carried at once - but there was no time to wait to see it through. Dockings like this made the entire ship, its crew, and its most precious occupants vulnerable to attacks from all angles - something she absolutely refused to allow to happen. Not here. Not now.

She was here. The station commander watched the slender ship dock with an impassive face, but his hearts, his entire being, felt the pull of her. Of them. The Empress and the child she carried. His child – though that was something few people knew. So he had to behave towards her as he always did in public, friendly yet polite, and always professional. And all the while he yearned to just embrace her and carry her to safety, away from prying eyes.

With the ease of long practice, he locked those thoughts away and let the professional mask fall in place. Later there might be time for either the two or the three of them. Maybe. But for now-

The airlock door slid open and there she was. There were more people, her retinue, her own security guards, and on his side of the airlock there were also plenty of security personnel to keep the curious at bay. He filed away everything about her, the way she looked, the way she moved. Right now he smiled, his usual radiant-yet-professional smile. "Welcome on Cold Station Theta, your Majesty." It is good to have you here…

There was an uneasiness spreading throughout her guards. Part of it was the natural way in which they held themselves poised for a fight each and every time they performed their duties on foreign territory - it now appeared heightened. Fists tightened on ornamental staffs and heads ducked to allow eyes to focus better in the heavily filtered light of the station. Xue could feel their pensiveness, she could hear the way their teeth ground together each time one of them tensed and flexed their jaws. Stenellis men were an impressive sight to begin with, full grown Makta bulls stood out even further from the pack.

None of it impressed her.

Their posturing seemed to tire the young regent, but her expressions remained carefully hidden behind her veil as she traveled in the space they'd created for her to move within. The entire procession halted only to show deference and grace to the station's master; a man many of them regarded with added suspicion. A man their Queen regarded with the most dainty of nods, "It's always a pleasure." It's been too long., she replied. "I hope that you received adequate warning and time to prepare for our arrival?"

"Of course." He wasn't fazed by the reaction of the guards. He had seen it before, only this time it was ramped up a notch. They had to relinquish at least part of their control by stepping on board of a station that didn't belong to them, and their Empress was more vulnerable now than she had been before. "Everything is prepared and waiting for you. Please, come this way." Far too long… It wasn't precisely telepathy, this strange communication, more a way of being in tune with each other through the bond they shared.

They left the crowd of onlookers behind. Amongst them, he noticed the two new Stenellis who had settled on the station, they were in the process of opening a deli. He wondered briefly what they thought of the presence of their Empress here.

Around the corner, through the doors and directly into the turbolift which would take them directly to the medbay. Even here nothing had been left to chance, this turbolift was the smoothest one on the station right now. Still, he couldn't help but place his hand against the side of the lift and whisper: "Be nice to her!"

"Commander Valeese has been notified." You haven't changed, Both were more of a statement than a question. Of course the Vorta had been - there'd be no mistakes made, no blunders, no missing pieces of the strange puzzle they called modern life. Whether the Makta liked it or not, they were mere pawns on a Chess board so much more complicated than they could ever have fathomed. It wasn't to say that they were truly ignorant, all brawn and no brain, but rather that so few had ever contemplated the grand scheme of things while trying to exist as a tree among a rather vast forest. That was all down to instinct. In this world - in this situation - few impulses existed above basic instinct given how out of the norm it was. Xue'Daio was one of few that risen above fight or flight in this strange place - perhaps only because she'd been thrust from world to world, situation to situation, from the time she was very young. Either way, she could peacefully exist is a place where she couldn't necessarily control the environment. the Makta had seldom been exposed to such.

The silvery silk of her robes sighed as she gently folded her fingers in front of her in what once would have been a regal and stately pose as they waited for the lift to complete its mission. Given the girth the pregnancy had added to her lithe little frame, it almost seemed cartoonish and forced - something Xue wasn't entirely ignorant of. "After this is over, I expect to be taken to my suite and allowed to rest without much in the way of distraction." She nodded, passing a glance towards Merlin. A guard nearest her left rumbled in mild appreciation for the sentiment behind the idea of his regent being stationary and secure.

"Of course." The words were both a reply to the earlier remark concerning Valeese and an acknowledgement of her need to rest. And bond with her newborn. He smiled at the thought. "The suite is already prepared and waiting." And so is Valeese. I know she's taken every possible precaution, even to the point of training her assistant in case she herself cannot attend.

He drank in the sight of her, though he didn't stare – it wouldn't do to set the guards even more on edge than they already were. One single glance had been enough to sear her into his memory as she was now. An imprint he knew he could pull out at any time, to study at his leisure. To reply back that she hadn't changed would be a lie, but the changes suited her. You have only gotten more radiant. He didn't lie. Over the bond they shared he couldn't lie, even if he wanted to – and he rarely, if ever, did.

The lift stopped and the doors swooshed open. They were nearly there, and this was the point where they'd have to part. He couldn't follow her into the medical bay, let alone into the room set aside for the delivery. But his thoughts would be with her, no matter what happened. "We are here."

Lies do not become you, Evan. From beneath the relative privacy of her nearly gossamer veil, the Empress's rose-gold eyes took him in. There was no outward evidence of nerves, no sign of worry or deep concern - just the usually charisma that seemed to hang over the man like a spotlight. She could feel his energy though, the vibrations that left him and reached for her with outstretched fingers in hopes of finding a safe port in a rather unique storm - and she accepted, quietly allowing his emotions to stroke along her psyche for the better part of the trip to sickbay. If any of her men had any inkling or clue to the bond the pair shared, none of them let it on. They remained stoic, on guard, and tense. "Then there is nothing left to discuss for now." To some her words may have seemed curt and terse - the dismissal that only a royal could give without coming across as brutally obtuse. When the time is right, you will be called for. It's a pity circumstances couldn't be different.

With that, the little albino nodded once and she and her men left the quiet of the lift for the bright lights and melodrama that could only be defined as 'starfleet sickbay'.

What is, is. "I wish you a smooth delivery," he said as the Stenellian delegation left the turbolift. Only when the doors were closed again he released the sigh he'd been holding in. This was as far as he could go. And now there were only a few seconds in which he could compose himself before going back to Central Ops, and having to act normally, with not a care in the world other than those imposed by his command.

But all the while, his thoughts would be with her, and with the child she would soon deliver.


Commander Evan Merlin
Commanding Officer

Xue'Daio Nox Tr'Verelan
Empress of the Stenellian Ascendancy
Queen Regnant of Apsha
Queen of Aliene]]>
Mon, 29 Jun 2020 01:29:50 +0000
JL | Cmdr Stacker, Cmdr Valeese - "That New Sort Of Normal"
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town

The concept of 'elevator music' had died out several centuries before James was born, without much fanfare. It was more a novelty concept now; something rich dilettantes had piped into turbolifts in gaudy buildings fit to be museums to bygone ages. Yet as James stood there in the humming-along turbolift car he couldn't help but wonder if they might be onto something. It would certainly break up the monotony of the commute. Something that would encourage the occupants to swiftly vacate the car?

He refrained from smiling, although inwardly the thought almost delighted him. The truth of the matter was that - while his avoiding a move to the station’s upper levels had seemed like a good idea at the time - the commute back to his quarters was starting to add up to a lot of lost minutes. Especially if he was trying to make use of the transport system while the shift change was taking place.

Thankfully he had something to make the trip entirely worthwhile. No, not a flask of some fruity alcoholic drink. In his mind it was far better, and he wondered if it and her - both hers - had managed to get home before him. It wasn’t the first time the question had occurred, and he palmed the door to his quarters with it first and foremost on his mind.

And home, most definitely, was where the heart is.

Cycling between duty and motherhood was a different and difficult juggling routine that Valeese had found both frustrating and rewarding. Her priorities had taken a hard shift along a rather bumpy and underdeveloped path the moment she and the Ghost had welcomed their daughter into the universe. It was one thing to sit and spend time planning - it was another when those plans all went to hell in a hand basket because there simply isn't any planning for what cards life will throw. Babies, as they quickly discovered, often have very different opinions about things like schedules and refuse to adhere to normal spaces and spans of time. The first several weeks of Rune's life had been spent in the attempts to convince her to be less keen on the idea of a nocturnal lifestyle.

Something that a postpartum Valeese initially blamed herself - and her half of the genetic equation - for even against the solid medical knowledge that even human babies tended to prefer to be awake at night when the levels of noise and stimuli allowed for them to explore their world in an environment that replicated the quiet safety of the womb they'd recently exited. Like other overstimulated babies, Rune was all too happy to shut down and snooze when presented with the insanity of daily life on the Station - and who could really blame her.

However, the initial shock of that wearing off allowed for the realization that Rune's penchant for day time slumber made her an ideal candidate for joining her mother down in sickbay during rounds. The nurses were all too happy to argue over who would be responsible for her care at any given time when her mother was required to be child free in an exam room. For the most part, Rune never left her mother's line of sight. Too many variables. Too many dangers.

The sound of muffled foot falls and shuffling outside the door to their quarters sent one of the Vorta's fan-like ears twitching in its direction, passively analyzing it while she watched her daughter explore the various objects and shapes scattered across a play mat in the living room.

The process of opening the door was more intricate these days. Rune's arrival had posed a challenge in that the main computer needed to be instructed that the doors were not to be opened for wandering babies unaccompanied by their parents. That was a minor thing, easily dealt with. What had not been so easily dealt-with was reprogramming the door's data-input devices to accept input from several covert devices that spanned fifty meters up-and-down the passageway outside. No more would strangers be permitted unchallenged (and unalerted) approach to his quarters. Especially not if certain criteria held in an unobtrusive data-storage device in the ceiling over the bed were met.

Even though these precautions and preparations had been done by his hands, he still didn't trust them entirely. That was probably why when the doors first opened there was a look of intense concentration and scrutiny on his face. It took a few seconds for this to dispel entirely; seeing that all was well in the world - or at least in their quarters - did much to relieve his mind of a few minutes of concern. The sight of one blissfully-innocent and -carefree former-stowaway seated in the middle of the play mat, armed appropriately with one block with more nearby, helped.

"I'm surprised they let you sneak away early," Valeese practically hummed with amusement while reaching for one of the play mat's suspended stars. A gentle flick of her fingers set the glittery mirrored object swinging passively, much to the delight of the child below, "what with the Empress coming and all that..." The Vorta shrugged before slowly laying flat on her back. The move gave her the chance to look up at the stalwart Ghost, studying him as he studied them, all while lightly drumming her fingers across her abdomen, "Or is there something else on your mind, Commander Stacker?"

He chuckled as he joined her, thumping onto the floor while the door shut behind him and the lock automatically engaged with a firm snick. That was another new addition: a custom retrofit to the door not on any plans or schematics. The first few times he'd heard the sound it'd caused his head to turn. But now he was at the point of tuning it out. And so it was that without a pause his hand found her arm and gave it a light squeeze.

"For once, nothing else. Just pleased to get out of the madhouse and somewhere else." A wry tone laced through his words as he continued. "I should've known this position wouldn't be as easy as it seemed, once I got used to everything. Guess life decided to give me an easy start in the XO's chair. Now this." 'This' was accompanied by a head-turn towards her and a knowledgeable flick of the eyebrows. Half-humor, half acknowledgement of ... everything. Including one wandering and still-preoccupied child.

The Vorta offered a wry smile, "There's something to be said about the unexpected," an ear half cocked towards the sound of two blocks meeting - that was the new normal, so long as no sounds of injury or frustration sounded afterwards. "If we were able to map out everything in our lives, start to finish, how boring would that be?" She sighed at the thought. Life would indeed be mundane and hardly as exciting as it had become in the past year and change. It went without truly needing to be said that they'd very likely have never included one another in their plans had life been pre-plotted. how boring would that be, indeed. "There are some philosophers that claim that every experience we have in life sets us up for the future as it unfolds. I like to think that there's a balance between fate and the random unknown that sort of trade one another off and keep each other centered with a system of checks and balances... But," She shrugged, rolling onto her side to face him, "There has been a word for predestined fate in every civilization. Maybe there's something to that - maybe there isn't."

He made a thoughtful sound as he did what he did best: contemplating and evaluating from multiple directions, before responding. As he did so the lines smoothed still further from his face, bringing out less the Ghost-turned-XO and more of the man. One who looked closer to his age instead of a face that looked carved-out. Some days it was more prominent, others less so. Today was one of the former.

"On the one hand, I don't like the idea of a predestined fate beyond my control and understanding," he finally said, eyes going from her to the activity on the playmat - a check of his own, to make sure things were still good - before turning back to the woman who still captivated him, even after all these many months. "I think that most humans I know would agree that we're very individualistic. The idea of some higher power or higher force imposing its will on our lives doesn't sit well with us as a species. We want our freedom. But on the other hand I think you might be right. That there's a balance of fate and the random unknown. This collar," he said, plucking at the telltale grey, before stretching out onto his side, propped up on an elbow to look down at her, "is me. I think it's fate. That means, though, that you and I were the random unknown. And I'm definitely more-than-pleased with that."

"I can't tell you how fascinating I find that theory given how often the human species has used the supposed will of an unseen omnipotent force to control the masses. Then again, that sort of thing seems to run rampant through the history of many species." Valeese, all too eager to exploit the knowledge decades of reading and research had awarded her, felt her grin widen. It was always a marvel to watch his brain work and to listen to his take on things both mundane and complex - a wonder that she doubted would ever wane no matter how long their time together would be, "I mean... Look at the Bajorans. There's still so many that allow their lives to be guided by the interpretations of a select few. Anyway..." She waved off the thoughts, "I'm glad the insanity isn't screwing with station schedules too bad."

He let his own thoughts concerning religion and their intercorrelation with omnipotent forces slide by the wayside, distracted by her waving hand and change in pace and train of thought. "I think we can both agree on that. I'd hate to think of medical overrun with cases and with its schedule thrown out the window. So should we be glad the insanity of my desk hasn't reached down to your office yet?" he asked with a gentle poke to her ribs. He couldn't help himself. The grin on her face was downright infectious, and here - in the privacy and security of their quarters - he could truly be at ease in someone's presence.

"Of course it has," she huffed, trading back a quick jab, "The Empress of the Ascendancy has decided to turn us all into her handmaids when she brings her child into the universe. Everything's a little muddy." To say the very least. Rumors and conjecture were one thing, but knowing the truth behind the Empress' alleged show of good faith left her more than a little on edge regarding the situation as a whole, "I'll be tending to her tomorrow, I'll keep you up to date as best I can with patient confidentiality and all."

Now there was a laugh. Secrets absolutely didn't exist between them - not anymore. The jingling of one toy or another, answered by an amused coo, was an easy reminder of why things - medical Intel included - didn't need to be kept secret between the pair. They each knew too many damning things about the other, and it showed.

The two may not have been telepathic, but the oh really? look he gave clearly indicated that his mental thoughts mirrored her own. At some level he clearly knew that one secret or another would be let slip but would never show up in records or documentation. Were it to be known by sickbay patients it might have been a little terrifying: a man with his background and experience knowing what went on behind closed doors? But none of what she had told him before - the casual asides in the kitchen, at the dining table, when they were entwined in bed or merely enjoying very close physical proximity - had ever been wielded or used.

"I know you will," came the reply, fingers finding her hand and lifting it up so he could inspect her digits. "Have you been practicing kung fu when I haven't been looking? Because that was one hell of a jab. You might have missed your calling, unless you're secretly practicing on unruly patients and word hasn't reached me in the ivory tower yet." The uplifted lines and quirk of his mouth were immediate giveaways about his good humor. Yet another sign of the cares of the day easing away.

"I can neither confirm nor den--" a quick, out of place succession of electronic chirps and a request for her response cut her off before she could finish her sentence. It was met with a whine and a look downright baleful as she brought her fingers to her combadge, "Commander Valeese here, what's the issue?" All she'd hoped for was one last chance at peace and quiet before being jerked back to duty - and there was only one reason why they'd have called her, short I'd a multi-casualty emergency and the Ghost's combadge would have been smoking if anything of the kind had transpired.

"Empress Xue'Daio Nox-tr'Verelan has arrived. Station command is escorting her to medbay."

Hell had broken loose, but it was at least containable, "What's her condition?" Knowing was half the battle, but knowing also meant that Valeese was well aware that the visit wasn't a social call. It was a matter of foreign affairs of an entirely different sort. The ivory Queen of the Stenellis peoples had chosen the station to be her safe nest, of sorts, and Valeese could hardly complain.

"Brief initial scans show that the Empress is healthy but suggest she may be in the latent phase of labor."

Of course she was. "I'm on my way."

Valeese heaved a heavy sigh and slowly got to her feet, peering back down at her daughter and lover, "I won't even begin to pretend you didn't hear that, " she said to the latter, "You know nothing until the child is safely delivered and she announces it's birth. She'll have our heads if it goes any differently, even if it could be another month before it happens." The Vorta bit her cheek before she could continue to rant about the father's genetics adding unknown variables to gestation and physiology and a thousand other things.

The pronouncement of the Empress' current condition has caused his eyebrows to rise. Already? No great expert in Stennlis' physiology and reproductive cycles and ... other aspects, he felt akin to the man standing by an open door. Peering into a place whose function he had no idea of, and evaluating what he could see to determine if it was - at the least - safe to enter. Rather than digressing and holding up her return, however, he swiftly got to his feet and collected her hands. There was a swift kiss to the back of each one. "My lips are sealed. All I can say is 'good luck' and 'keep me posted.'" Whatever else he might or might not have thought about her obviously restraining herself went unsaid.


Commander James Stacker
Executive Officer

Commander Valeese
Chief Medical Officer
Mon, 29 Jun 2020 01:27:56 +0000
An Unruly Paient
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Cold Station: Theta
Timeline - 242006.28

Resnik strode into the medical bay, eager to have a look around the place and get acquainted with her peers. Her mood was optimistic and enthusiastic, and as the doors opened, she was slammed into a brick wall of reality. On the floor lay a Lieutenant in blue with a hypospray next to him.

Chris rushed toward the prone man and manually felt for a pulse, relieved a bit when she felt it thrumming strongly in his neck. She picked up the hypospray next to him and saw it had been loaded with a sedative. She dialed up Anphedrin in a light dose to counteract the sedative. A nurse trotted over on seeing them both on the floor. "Dr Marshal! Is he ok? Who are you?" She questioned Resnik.

Things moved quickly and Resnik tried to spit out as quickly as she could. "Dr Christine Resnik, just arrived. I'm a new surgeon assigned here." She glanced around and saw a terminal nearby with a layout of a docking ring section. "Check your beds, I think we have a missing patient."

The dark-haired nurse nodded and glanced around. "Yeah, we do, Commander Rook Bartly."

"Alright, well let me wake Marshall up." Chris sighed and pressed the hypo into him, rolling him to his back and watching him blink awake. "You ok Marshal?"

The lieutenant slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times. "Yeah I'm fine. What happ...." he started then remembered Commander Bartly standing over him and nailing him with a hypo-spray. He shot upright and looked around. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!" he yelled. He looked around quickly seeing Commander Bartly was gone and noticed Resnik kneeling beside him. "I take it you hit me with Anphedrin?" He went to stand up and the nurse reached out to give him a hand which he accepted and stood up feeling a little light-headed. "Thanks..." He padded himself over and noticed his comm badge was missing. "Sorry, who are you?" he said to the woman who woke him up.

Chris smirked and held out her hand. "Chris Resnik, I'm a new surgeon, just came to check the place out." She shrugged a bit and said, "Well I suppose we should call on security, but I'm thinking we should also go after her ourselves. She obviously wasn't ready to be released." Chris found a storage locker and pulled out a med bag, checking its contents and saying, "If you're feeling up to it?"

"Oh yeah, I remember hearing your name at the staff meeting last week. Welcome to Cold Station." He looked down at the display screen. "I don't think we need security. I have a pretty good idea of where she went. Plus I'm reasonably sure that she took my comm badge so tracking her down shouldn't be too hard." Lt Marshal pressed a button on the desk's terminal. "Computer, display the location of Lt Tod Marshal." The screen flickered for a moment and a red dot appeared on the map shown on the screen. "Yeah, she is in the docking ring alright." He picked up the data PADD off the desk and handed it over to Resnik. "Here is the med report on our little runaway. Honestly, I was surprised to see her alive but after seeing how... um... strong-willed she is, it isn't that surprising." He motioned toward the door. "Shall we?

Chris read over the chart, scanning details. "She has implants, that's interesting enough. Must be trying to get onboard her own craft again." Resnik smiled and shook her head. "Never a dull moment I guess." She carried the medbag and lead the way, following the dot she had transferred to a PADD. This would be a great way to start to learn the station layout she surmised. The PADD directed her to the closest lifts as she continued to read her medical records. "Seems like she's all patched up and doesn't need a surgeon, just time to properly heal. I can't imagine how confusing and frustrating it would be to lose fifteen years."

As the two walked toward the lift, Lt Marshal nodded. "Yeah not many people have implants these days... and I think your right about her trying to get back onboard her ship. I or at least whats left of it." The walk was short and the two entered the lift. "Docking Ring." Marshal told to the lift which quickly started it's trip. "I think it would be good to have a surgeon along with in-case she reopens her wounds..." He leaned back on the wall of the turbolift. "So, where you from and what do you think of CST?"

Resnik nodded along with his assessment of having a surgeon along. "Originally Texas... but I've been everywhere, used to be stationed in the Gamma Quadrant ages ago. Just rejoined Starfleet recently though, been away for a lot of years." The lift opened up at the docking ring level they requested and she said with a smirk, "As for CST, very interesting so far. Haven't even made it 24 hours yet."

They followed the tracker and entered a bay. Chris looked around and called out, "Bartly, are you here?"

Resnik's call was met with silence but caused almost all of the maintenance techs which were working on the damaged fighter to stop working and look up. Lt Marshal looked around as his companion called out. The dock bay was filled with a severally damaged star fighter and other debris that didn't seem to be from the fighter itself. 'I can't believe that she is alive if this was what she was found in.' Marshal thought to himself. The fighter was in pieces. Dark scoring marred the hull, every inch of the star fighter was shot up leaving holes penetrating clean through. The cockpit's canopy was a mangled mess. The whole fighter looks like it was staying together by little pieces of string with good intentions.

One of the techs walked up to the two medical personnel. "Hey, who are you looking for?" He asked

Lt Marshal held up his hand up parallel with the floor. "We are looking for a blond woman about this tall."

The engineering officer smiled at the two. "Oh HER! Yeah, she just came in here a few minutes ago and climbed into the cockpit to pull the fighter's sensor and navigational logs." He pointed toward the front of the wreckage. "Be careful around the wreck. This thing is, and I'm not kidding, is literally falling apart."

Marshal had climbed up one side of the cockpit and Chris took the other. She let him have the joy of tapping a distracted Bartley on the shoulder. Resnik smirked at the interaction knowing she had not been seen or heard yet. She scanned the escaped patient and was happy to see there wasn't any apparent signs of new trauma. Chris prepped a hypospray, but didn't really want to use it, lifting dead weight out of a cockpit didn't sound like fun and neither did asking for a site to site for a non-emergency; on her first day no less.

Rook Bartly looked up at the person intruding on her thoughts seeing Lt Marshal standing there above her. "Crap, you awake sooner then I expected." She sad with a dull voice.

"Hi, we haven't met yet, but I'm an annoying doctor too." She smiled in greeting, but the grin also held a hint of sarcasm. Rook's head swung around to her other shoulder to look at Resnik. "So you can see, we have you surrounded. I can certainly understand why you are here. You need answers, nobody is giving you any. Remember though, even though you've been out of it a while. We're Starfleet, we work together. Let these engineering guys work on this. Your job right now is to rest in sickbay. Don't make us be mean about it."

Surprised by a second speaker, Rook's head whipped around quickly to find Resnik standing over her. The fast movement hurt and she expected to find a security officer and Rook was not about to find herself being shot. Again. What she didn't expect was to find another medical officer. "Great, another doctor..." She took a deep breath. "Fine, you caught me." Rook held her hands up in a surrendering motion. "Seems like there isn't anything here anyway I can use." Rook stood up as Lt Marshal climbed down to the floor and she followed suit. "I swear, if you try to hit me with another damned hypo-spray, I am going to punch you in the face."

Lt Marshal grabbed her arm. "Look, Commander Bartly, I only did that for your protection. You need time to heal up and I know your not fully healed up so please don't try to run again. The Commander Merlin wanted to talk to you when you were able to move. Well certainly looks like you can move..."]]>
Sun, 28 Jun 2020 06:49:56 +0000
Hunting the Truth - Part 1
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Cold Station: Theta
Timeline - 242006.14

Rook Bartly woke several times over the next several hours and was generally met with a hypo-spray as she continued to try to leave. Now, many hours had passed since Commander Merlin departed leaving her to these hypo-spray nut jobs. As she came took she kept her eyes closed and remained still. After hearing the now familiar voice of Lt Marshal, she slowly opened one eye seeing him sitting at a work station with his back to her. She listened carefully trying to figure out where everyone was located. After a moment she determined that the blasted Lieutenant was the only one in the immediate area. Rook swung her feet off the table and got to her feet as quietly as she could. He ribs felt like someone used them as a pinata but she pushed the pain to the side as she glanced around. Sitting on a small table near Rook was the hypo-spray that Marshal kept using on her. She picked it up and made her way behind Marshal. "Back at cha." she said in a loud voice. The young man turned around to see Rook standing behind him. Before he could say anything she shoved the hypo into his neck returning the favor of sedating him as he had been to her. She gently lowered him to the floor.

She quickly moved over to the replicated and ordered a change of clothes which materialized before her. She pulled on the pants and shirt. She sat on the floor to get her socks on and the boots. Finally dressed, she sat down at the work station he had been sitting at. On the small screen there was displayed her medical report. She read over it taking in as much information as she could. "I have cloned organs? What the f#$^ happened to me?" She said to her self. She quickly tapped on the console bringing up her records and watched the recording of her death. She breathed a sigh of relief seeing that no one else was seriously hurt other then Commodore Enor who lost his hand. The records show he was fine after the incident. Looks like the crew survived and they were able to repulse the Klingon attack. She tried to being up further records of the USS Warrior but hit a security block. Trying her security codes resulted in nothing. "Of course they would have removed my security clearance. I dead.... damnit..." Rook poured through records trying to get caught up on events since what ever happened to her on the Warrior. After a while she was sure that what Commander Merlin said was true. It *actually* has been 15 years since she was reported dead. 15 years since her last memory. Rook was a little fuzzy some some details but her last 10 years of her life was stored on her memory chip at least the important stuff. There was a lot of gaps in the information. Artificial memory storage had a limit to how much it could store. What bothered her was the last information recorded was of her death. The memory chip showed that it has been working for two years since then but there was nothing there. "I have to get to my fighter...." She pulled up a station map and was able to quickly identify the location of the fighter. "Crap, how big is this station."

Rook finally exited the med bay. She was confused. Nothing made sense. She died on the Warrior but was alive for two more years with cloned body parts, and got into a fight that led her to a time shift of 13 years. She needed more information. There has to be something at her fighter... As Rook left, she stopped to glance over at the sleeping form of Lt Marshal who was still laying on the med-bay's floor. "Seeya around." She quickly made her way to the turbo lift. The doors to the turbo lift closed with a 'shhhhif' sound. Rook Bartly leaned against the wall. She still wasn't feeling that she was 'recovered' at all but she needed answers and no dinglehopper of a doctor is going to tell her to stay put. "Docking bay...... 5" she said the lift. which started to hum with the sound of movement as it made its way toward the docking padd where the fighter she was found in was brought in. The lift seemed like it was taking the longest path it could to get to the docking ports but that was how all lifts seemed on space stations. She was too accustomed to being on star ships.

The doors finally slide open. Rook pushed her way into the hall and walked down the hall. She was having a hard time navigating the station. The layout of this part of the station was odd. She could tell that this station had gone though a tone of modifications over the years. Roaming the corridors for a while she finally discovered the door to docking bay 3. The door was a large dark gray three panel tri-door. She walked over and pressed the panel control triggering the door to slide open allowing her to enter. Once she stepped though the threshold, Rook could see the bay was filled with maintenance tech's working all over her once intact star fighter which was now in pieces on the hanger floor. Rook took a deep breath as she walked in. 'Crap, what the hell happened to you girl...' she thought as she walked up to the wreckage. One of the maintenance techs looked walked up to Rook handing her a data padd. "You must be from structural engineering. The chief wants the reactor core analyzed." The engineering uniform she had replicated seems to be working for her.

Rook smiled though her pain and shook her head. "Nope, I'm from data analysis. I need to gain access to the data recorder and pull the flight data."

The tech looked surprised. "I thought that someone had already tried that but couldn't get anything."

She shrugged. "Yeah... I was given detailed specs of the fighter that the chief recovered and I have a data link." She pointed her thumb at her self. "If there is anything in there I can find it!"

The maintenance tech waved his hand as he walked off. "Good luck then, that computer is trashed!"

Finally being left alone by the tech, Rook made her way to the cockpit. As she walked around she was giving the wreckage a good once over. The hull was a mess. Massive carbon scoring and holes covered her fighter. Some of the crews were working on removing parts of the hull to examine the damage and hardware. She climbed up the fuselage onto the side of the cockpit then into it. All of the internal control panels were trashed. She pried open a storage unit on the left side of the cockpit and received her data connection cable which to her surprise seemed to be in perfect shape. She plugged it into the data port on the back of her neck then to the connector port on pilot seat. "Good, looks like the computer is still functioning." She said to herself as she closed her eyes as she scanned the small craft's memory. "Wait what.... The navigation records are gone..." Rook changed her target and started to recall the fighters sensor logs which also came back blank. "What..." she continued her probe but every ounce of the data in the small fighters memory came up blank. The last record that was contained in the fighter's memory was the when Rook had docked it at Star Base 400: Versailles. She pulled the data connector. "This makes no sense. There isn't anything in the ships computer what so ever."

As Rook sat in the seat someone tapped her on her shoulder. Rook looked up and came eye to eye with Lt Marshal who was looking less then amused...
Mon, 15 Jun 2020 04:59:06 +0000
242006.11 JL | Cmdr Merlin, Dr Resnik - Reporting In
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - CSTheta

Chris lay on her back in her bunk. She had adequate, modest, junior officer quarters. The bed had been comfortable after adjusting it to her preferred firmness level. The filtered light from her viewport wasn't distracting, just a soft, steady glow. The temperature was precisely where she wanted it, cold; much more chill than most humans preferred for sleeping. Yet sleep never came.

Resnik let out a long sigh and turned her head to look at a blank, gray wall. She needed something there, something to populate the space. It had been so long since she occupied one spot for any period and wasn't sure what to put up.

The walls were not the problem though as time ticked on, sleepless and quiet, she yawned, and her ears popped. Chris smirked to herself, realizing the thrum of the ship's engines was missing. She had no particular affinity for the noise, but the station, at least where her quarters were, was all too quiet.

"Computer pipe in white noise to my quarters at all times." The artificial assistant chimed in an acknowledgment, and Chris could hear the noise startup. Subtle, nothing she could pinpoint, but some noise at last. The silence was gone.

She closed her eyes and sighed in contentment, confident that she would be able to drift off now.

"This is your appointment reminder for 'Station Commanding Officer, Oh SevenHundred Hours.' You have thirty minutes until the scheduled time. It will take approximately four minutes of walking and turbolifts to arrive."

Chris cursed the computer and punched the bed as she got up, calling for a coffee with cream to the replicator and scrambling to get dressed and groomed.

Lack of sleep and a rushed morning routine were not evident on Chris Resnik as she left her quarters, PADD in hand. She had on a crisp uniform, clean boots that were unscuffed as of yet. Her face was bright and alert, and her eyes didn't betray her lack of sleep. She hoped her mind woke up before she introduced herself.

This game, though, of sussing out her new commander, and being on the receiving end as well, she could do without. It just seemed like a waste of time to her; she'd rather get right into her work rather than spend a few minutes with someone she may not have any further interaction with during her assignment here. Protocol, she would follow it, but nobody was forcing her to like it much. Resnik would play the Starfleet game and reminded herself that nobody had forced her back in, she choose this.

"Lieutenant Christine Resnik for Commander..." The name, the name slipped her mind as soon as her mouth went to produce it. If he had a Latin name, she may not have let it slip from her brain so easily. She scrunched her nose in frustration at herself and pulled up her PADD to read it. "Uh, Commander Merlin." Chris tried to hide a smirk, wondering now if he resembled a wizard at all, that she could get behind.

"Merlin here," came the instant reply. "New surgeon, yes? Come on in."

At this hour, the tail end of gamma shift, the commander was already in uniform, but his wild hair hadn't been tied back yet. Its wild corkscrews stuck out at all angles, and the fact that he occasionally ran his hand through his hair didn't really help matters. Christine found him behind his desk, staring glumly at the PADDs strewn across its surface.

"They breed overnight," he said, picking one of them up. "When I left here yesterday, the desk was empty. I've heard tribbles are bad, but these things? Drama. I mean, it's not as if one takes a lot of time, usually-" as he talked, he had scanned the PADD, switching effortlessly from looking at her and looking at it, "-but it still takes time all together." He pressed his thumb against the PADD and tossed it over his shoulder. It landed neatly on a small pile already there. "Anyway, welcome to Cold Station Theta." He grinned widely, an expression which sat on his face with much more ease than the earlier glum one. At the same time, he jumped to his feet and extended a hand.

Chris was bemused, trying to assess the situation before her. She already determined that Merlin was not an old school commander, which pleased her to no end. She could do without the completely formal cold suits she'd worked for at various assignments. "I can never understand why every little thing needs to be put on its own unit. Can we not all just have one and transmit information to them. I'm sure you're more than capable of reading many reports on one PADD."

The smirk that crossed her lips shifted into a smile as he rose and offered his hand. She shook it, firm, but not overly so and not too short a time, but didn't linger either. Her eyes scanned his hair and looked him over in a quick assessment, not sure at the end of it what to think. "It's a pleasure to be here Sir. I'm eager to jump right into things in the med bay. This assignment, it seems..." She searched for an adequate term and felt she came up short. "Well interesting I guess, but I am thrilled to be here."

Resnik felt herself starting to pull her bottom lip in to chew it and released it, admonishing herself mentally for the bad habit. "Do you have any advice or wisdom as I get started here?"

"Well…" He ran his hand through his hair again. "Not words of wisdom, per se, but maybe a few notes. Your department head is a Vorta. She's easy to get along with, but once in awhile you might encounter someone who has a problem with that, just so you know. We regularly have visitors from the nearby Stenellian Ascendancy, so you might want to read up on their physiology. Oh, and in a few days we'll play host to something called the Interstellar Cultural Exhibition and Exchange, so we'll get a lot of visitors soon. Of course, we all hope it'll go without a hitch and we won't need any medical services, but it's best to be prepared nonetheless." He smiled. "Do you have any questions?"

Chris was distracted with Merlin's hair, it was something to marvel at. She wondered how long it took him to comb through the curls, his hand running through it again forced her attention back to what he was saying, cocking her head slightly at the mention of a Vorta Chief. That was interesting, but she knew them to be well trained medically and looked forward to the interaction.

Resnik made a mental note to do a deeper dive into the Stenellian Ascendancy. Her response was rather business-like, but sincere and truthful. "No sir, it was a pleasure to meet you and I look forward to contributing to this crew." She smiled producing a pun and said, "I guess I'll get out of your hair as you no doubt have a lot to do in preparation for the exhibition."

"Oh yes, do I ever." He grinned, then sighed ruefully as he regarded the PADDs still strewn across his desk. "Well, I'm sure we'll run into each other from time to time. If there's anything bothering you or if you have questions other people can't answer, feel free to drop by. See you around!" And with a cheerful wave, he devoted his attention to the PADD once more. ]]>
Sat, 13 Jun 2020 19:39:54 +0000
Lost Time
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Cold Station: Theta
Timeline - 242006.12

"Look who's awake." Rook Bartly turned to to see who was speaking to find tall human wearing a Star Fleet medical uniform. Well, what looked similar to a Star Fleet medical uniform. It was a little different than any uniform she had seen before. The man smiled at Rook. "You are lucky to be alive. When you were brought in everyone expected that you wouldn't make it. Your wounds were quite severe." He picked up a data pad off the table next to the bed where Rook found herself.

Rook looked around the room trying to get her bearings. This was some kind of sickbay. It didn't look like anything she seen on any starship so she must be on a space station... somewhere or planet. She spotted several other people milling about completing what ever tasks they were assigned to. All of them in the same similar Star Fleet-ish uniforms. Rook's first thought was she must be onboard one of the Klingon war ships in some kinda holodeck but her time she spent in the officer exchange program taught her that Klingon ships don't come equipped with holodecks so she brushed that idea off. This place diffidently wasn't Quantico.

As she was trying to work out where she was, Rook closed her hospital gown that she torn open a moment ago in almost panic looking for the massive hole in her chest. "My.... wounds?" She said inquisitively only remembering having one wound. The one she took to her chest from that Klingon disruptor. She absently rubbed the scar as she was trying to piece together what happened to her.

The man, who Rook guessed was in his mid thirties, nodded. "Yes, when you arrived you had..." He looked at the data pad and scrolling. "...a concussion, over 120 lacerations on your head and body, oxygen deprivation, a compound fracture in your left arm, along with 3 broken ribs and internal bleeding. I have no idea how you managed to operate a star fighter in that condition." He looked at her in the eyes. "You one tough cookie."

She had no idea what he was talking about. She was shot... in the chest. She train of thought stopped on one thought 'Wait, what star fighter, I was on the bridge...' She looked down at her chest then back to the man. "Doc, what about this scar..." She showed the man the scar on her chest.

He smiled at her. "I'm not sure where that one came from, point in fact, I was wondering about that one myself but it was already there when you arrived." He looked at the data pad in his hand. "Based on these results I would say it was about two years old."

Rook shook her head. "No no... That's impossible... I was just..." she trailed off trying to make sense of what was happening.

The man shrugged. "Look, I know you have a ton of questions about what happened to you, where you are and the like but honestly, I'm not the one to answer them. You need to talk with Commander Merlin. I'm sure he can answer far more questions then I ever could." He tapped his comm badge. "Lt Marshal to Commander Merlin, I think you should come down to sickbay. Our guest is awake and sitting up. She has a ton of questions..."

During PADD control time – aka administration hour – the station's CO was ready to welcome any distraction. Keeping up with the paddwork was a necessary evil and he dutifully kept up with it, but (unlike some other people) he never really liked it.

So the doctor's call was a welcome distraction. Of course, it would mean more PADDs to process later, but that was a problem he didn't have to deal with right now. He rose and tossed the PADD on his desk. "I'm on my way."

A few minutes later he arrived in sickbay. The mysterious arrival had been in his mind a lot, of late. Not only due to the riddles surrounding her, such as who she was and where she came from. It also awoke thoughts in him which he usually kept away. Questions about his own past, his own origins. There was always the faint hope that in answering her riddles, he could unlock part of his own past.

"Hi," he said when he entered sickbay. As usual, he tried to restrain himself here. The CMO had made it clear on past occasions that the full force of his enthusiasm could have a detrimental effect on her patients. But his restraint couldn't force his wild hair to behave – as usual, as soon as he was officially 'off duty', it escaped its bounds and danced in chaotic curls around his head. And it couldn't keep his eyes from twinkling, as if the whole universe was a joke which most people just didn't get.

He gave a friendly nod to the Lieutenant and walked over to the bed. "How do you feel?"

Rook turned to face the new arrival. He kind of looked familiar but wasn't sure. "A pounding head ache, and sore all over...." She took a deep breath as she looked the new person over. "First off, where the hell am I and the f$%^ is going on?" She pushed herself off the bed. As soon as her feet touched the floor she wobbled but quickly regained her balance by placing her hand on the bed. "This place looks clearly like a some kind of Federation Station. It's clearly not a star ship or hospital but I don't recognize the uniforms. They are not standard Star Fleet uniforms and no one is answering my damn questions."

Since the doctor made no move to stop the patient from sitting up, the commander didn't act to stop her either. "Well, hit me with your damn questions and I'll do my best to answer them. "You're on Cold Station Theta and these uniforms are pretty standard these days." He grabbed a chair, turned it around so that the back was facing the biobed and sat down, resting his arms on the back rest. Then he waited to see if she would make the connection.

Still leaning on the bed, Rook looked down toward the floor in thought. "Cold Station Theta...." She thought for a moment. "that's a refueling station... that's near Romulan space." She looked up at him. "How did I get here? I was on board the Warrior in the Quantico System on a resq..." Rook stopped in mid sentence. "Wait, what? Did you just say these days? I know that is NOT a standard uniform."

The commander's smile was somewhat bleak, this time. "What is the last stardate you remember?" he asked, and his voice was now soft and gentle.

She looked at him as her eyes narrowed. "240510.01... You're dodging." She was standing on her own now her hands on her hips indignantly. "Look..." Rook glanced down to at the man's collar. "...Commander. Just spit it out. I hate when people dance around crap."

The man raised a single eyebrow at the other's outburst, though otherwise his expression didn't change. "The current stardate is 242006.07," he said calmly. "Now, from what I've heard there was already a discrepancy between your last memory and the condition you were found in, but that isn't nearly enough to cover the missing fifteen years. You were found coming out of a nearby nebula, where strange things have been known to happen. It has never been fully explored, and with reason. There was chroniton radiation around the fighter you were found in, which indicates some kind of time displacement took place." He kept a close eye on her as he talked, knowing (though not from personal experience) how fragile that burst of strength could be which had propelled her to her feet, and how quickly it could drain away at any shock… such as this. If she fainted, he knew he'd be fast enough to catch her before she hit the ground.

Rook shook her head. "No... that can't be right. There is no way..." Rook paused. She closed her eyes but anyone looking could see her eyes darting around quickly underneath her eyelids as she accessed her memory implant's storage. She opened her eyes and looked the man hard in the eyes. "Look Commander, there is no way its been 15 years since I was on the Warrior. I was just..." She stopped talking for a moment and rubbed the scar on her chest. "What 'discrepancy' between my last memory and the condition I was 'found in'." Rook made air quotes as she spoke.

"The first time we talked, you mentioned your last memory was of you being on the bridge of a ship. You were found in a fighter." Absentmindedly he produced a crystal ball seemingly out of nowhere and began to roll it over his hand and arm. Years ago, a masked ball had been organized on the station and he had learned that trick for the role he chose, and it had become something of a habit ever since. He often barely realized he was doing it. "Don't worry too much about it if you don't remember that conversation, you were barely conscious at the time."

She stood up on her own again. "Yeah, no idea about talking to anyone. I was on the bridge of the USS Warrior. We running an evacuating of Quantico. I was operating the drone fleet when..." Rook looked away for a moment then back to the man. "Ok, since your obviously not going to be so kind to introduce yourself. I am going to go out on a limb and guess that your that Commander Merlin guy doctor whowhatsit called for when he decided he didn't want to talk to me." Rook said as she watched him absently playing with the ball. "You said I was in a fighter. What kind of fighter was it and where is it now?"

The man smiled again. "Well, actually I did introduce myself to you… the first time. You're right, I'm Evan Merlin, CO of Cold Station Theta. Your ship is in one of the smaller hangar bays… One advantage of a station this size, there's plenty of storage room." The ball floated from the back of his hand over his fingertips to his palm, seemed to float there. It caught the light of the medbay and refracted it in odd directions.

"Yeah, established that I don't really remember that so... don't count." She stepped back. "Ok, so lets say your telling me the truth and it has been 15 years. Then how did...." Rook looked at Merlin. "Can you knock that off. It's really distracting."

"Oh." The man grinned and the ball disappeared as if by magic. "And I don't know. We're still running tests."

Rook frowned. "Look, Commander, I might be able to by this missing time thing. I have no idea what happened but I something caused me to have lost all of my memories..." Rook paused as she rubbed her neck. "If it wasn't for some... upgades... I wouldn't member a damn thing. I have a memory backup that seemed to have... um... 'uploaded' but that seemed to stop when... I was... um... injured on the Warrior." She narrowed her eyes. "You never answered my question as to 'what' fighter I was found in, was it a Star Fleet fighter? I need to see that fighter..."

"It was a prototype fighter, not many of them have been produced." It had taken a while before the computer had managed to spit out what type of fighter it was, and the only reason why it hadn't taken a lot longer than that was because as a former StratOps officer, he had been able to take a few shortcuts and knew where to look. "Rapier class. If you uploaded more memories there, you might be able to recover them…" he frowned, remembering the state the ship had been in when they found it. "But that's going to be a challenge. You might want to talk to our chief engineer, see if he can coax some life back into her computer." Not that he himself wasn't interested in the data the small ship contained.

She smiled for the first time since she woke up. "Finally some good news. That's my personal fighter. She doesn't have a 'memory backup' but she does have a sensors logs navigation computer with redundancy. She isn't fitted for detail science scans but she should have some kind of logs detail where she's been." Rook started to head toward the door and stopped a few steps later... "Um, can I get some clothes?" She winced in pain as she moved but tried to hide it.

"Not until the doctor gives you clearance to leave," the commander said. He had remained where he was, but he already saw the doctor on duty (a Denobulan fellow called Anile) walk over and shake his head.

"No no no no no," the doctor said. "We didn't go through all the trouble of patching you up just to see you up and leave less than an hour after coming to. I want you to spend at least the night here, young lady." One of Anile's eccentricities was to call everyone 'young …', regards of the person's actual age. "If by tomorrow your vital signs are still stable, we can talk about releasing you. Certainly not before."

Rook turned to face the doctor and stomped her foot in annoyance which caused her noticeable pain. "Thanks for 'patching me up' but I can't just lounge around the med-bay 'doing thing!' she said to him. "You can't keep me cooped up in here like some kind pet." Rook started to make her way to the door ignoring the protest from Anile who pointed at the young lieutenant then toward Rook. Lt Marshal understanding what that meant scooped up a hypo spray and quickly bolted to Rook coming up behind her pressing it on the back of her neck. "Hey......." was all she managed to get out as she collapsed into the lieutenants arms.

Lt Marshal frowned at Commander Merlin. "Sorry about that sir." He started toward the bed when a med tech came over to give him a hand. "In her medical records, there were several notes about her ignore medical advice and has trying to leave med-bays before along with the advice to 'keep a sedative handy". The two loaded her back onto the bed where she was before. "I promise we will keep an eye on our..... feisty friend here." He paused for a moment and looked at Commander Merlin. "I'm not sure if you looked up her Star Fleet records sir, but according to Star Fleet, this young woman is dead. The log shows that she was Killed in Action onboard the USS Warrior on star date 240510.01 by a disruptor blast to the chest from a Klingon boarding party... The scar on her chest matches the location of the hit that killed her but according to the log, it burned a hole clean through her chest. I even watched the holo attached to her file. How can this be Commander Bartly?"

He nodded. Of course he'd read through her file, and discovered some interesting gaps there. "Unfortunately, if her record doesn't reveal that, it's doubtful she'll ever be able to answer. She does remember being injured, and obviously knows that it was more than a normal injury judging by what she said. It also seems she has been carrying the memory implant before that time. As to the rest, who knows?" He grinned. "Don't you love a good mystery, Lieutenant?"

Meanwhil, Anil had been studying her scans with greater attention. "I might give some insight to this mystery, Commander," he said. "I can see evidence of cloned organs, most notably her heart and part of the lungs. Judging by the presence of the scar tissue, it had to be done in a hurry. Whoever did this figured that cosmetic surgery would be an option for a later stage, saving her life was a priority." He gave an appreciative nod.

"Cloned organs?"

Anil smiled. "Oh yes. The heart is much younger than the rest of her. It's actually quite fascinating…"

"And you can tell me all about it at some other time." One of the advantages of having a few Denobulans on the station was that there were more people to talk to in the middle of the night. "Anyway, please let me know when she's cleared to leave. Better yet, Lieutenant, escort her to me at that point. Until we have some answers, I'd rather not have her wander through the station by herself."
Fri, 12 Jun 2020 22:22:48 +0000
Cmdr. Evan Merlin | Quiet Never Lasts Long
Mission - When The Circus Comes To Town
Location - Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD 242006.09

The commander sat in his chair in Central Ops, cup of Vulcan spice tea in one hand, a PADD in the other. It was quiet today. Well, quiet was a relative thing on Cold Station Theta: there were always ships arriving and leaving, minor crises to be averted or solved. Such as a Starfleet crewmember who had drunk too much firewine in the Heart of Targ the night before and discovered five minutes too late that his ship had departed (a shuttle and a transporter quickly solved that problem).

Not that he minded. Quiet, in his experience, was good. However, the thing about it was that it never seemed to last long. So he sipped his tea and listened to the activity around him: the soft conversation going on between the Ops station and Flight Control about allocations and transports, and the even softer conversation between two Ensigns in the back about an upcoming sports match and related bets. He knew that one backward glance would still that conversation, but for now, at this hour he let it slide.

Fifteen minutes till the end of Alpha shift, after that another hour in his office to work through the PADDs which had piled up during the day, then the day would be done. Provided nothing came up.

"Commander, incoming signal."

He smiled to himself. Of course something came up. "What is it?" he asked.

"Secured line directed at you. Admiral Didac. Would you like me to send it to your office?"

He was already in motion. "Yes, please." Two long strides and the door closed behind him. He slid in his chair and opened the channel, wondering all the while who Admiral Didac was and what he wanted from him.

The Admiral turned out to be a Barzan, and a quick search in the database told him that he was in command of another sector, one of the other outer regions of Starfleet. "Commander Merlin," she said briskly. He thought she looked tired, though.
He quickly blew a loose strand of hair from his face (it would slide back in a moment or two, it always did). "Admiral," he said politely. "How can I be of assistance?"

"I'm delighted to inform you that your starbase has been chosen as the next place to host the Interstellar Cultural Exhibition and Exchange." The capital letters were clearly audible.

"Oh," was the first word which slipped out. Feeling that response was perhaps not what the Admiral was looking for, he quickly added: "I'm sure we're honoured. What, precisely, does this Interstellar Cultural Exhibition and Exchange entail?"

"Precisely what it sounds like, Commander," the Admiral replied. "It is an initiative from various races, both within the Federation and outside, to have a cultural exchange. There will be various diplomats present, there will be plays, items of significance from said races are displayed on this exhibition…"

He blinked. "What, like Kahless' favourite mug or Sarek's robes?"

"Commander!" the Admiral said sharply, but he was certain he saw a corner of her mouth twitch. Oh yes, he'd read her correctly. The whole carnival was on her station now, and she was only too happy to foist them off to someone else. He could already imagine the delight on Admiral Red's face when she learned this news.

"I'm sorry, Admiral," he said and brushed the fallen lock of hair back again. "When I can I expect them?"

"Within the week. I have sent the list of guests, exhibition pieces and all requirements to you. I trust you'll make the proper arrangements. Didac out."

He called up the list and scrolled through it, page after page. Then he tapped his comm badge to hail various department heads. "Hi, everyone. I'm about to make your day…" It was two minutes to the end of shift. Oh yes, they would be overjoyed.
Tue, 09 Jun 2020 15:25:21 +0000
242006.07 LtJG Chris Resnik | Back in the Saddle
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Earth, Cold Station Theta
Timeline - Present Day

=/\= Several weeks ago, Starfleet Academy =/\=

A blue ring of acknowledgment with a happy chirp rang from a holographic target as the lights in the dim space came on. Chris smirked, though her accomplishment was hardly that at all. The officer in the virtual range with her shook his head and had a slight roll to his eyes as he notated her record on the PADD he held. "Well, Resnik, that was your last chance, but you squeezed through." The tall, burly commander added with a gruff tone, "Just barely, though."

With a shrug, she pulled her hair out of the bun it had been pinned up in and shook it out. "I'll take barely over a fail. I've never been good with a phaser, never will be. Starfleet can either accept it or not." Chris' tone was indifferent, but she would have been devastated if she hadn't passed.

For the last couple of months, she had been at Starfleet academy again, going through various updated training courses and retesting things she had passed years ago to regain her commission. Since it had been so long since she wore the uniform, all this red tape had been deemed necessary.

She would never be a tactical or security officer, which was apparent by her lack of shooting skills. Resnik would never stray from the blue uniform and was rarely seen outside of a medical bay.

"Now what? How long until I can ship out of here?" She asked, smiling at Commander Gordan, knowing he wouldn't miss her at all, considering all the frustration and aggravation she caused him as he tried to get her to pass basic shooting skills.

"Well, Resnik, this will be submitted today. It should be just a couple of days as they decide your rate and find an open position. It looks like you've requested a starbase assignment?"

She nodded, "That or a colony somewhere. I like the large facilities, a lot of surgical time." Chris haltered the phaser and held up her hands with a smirk, wiggling her long fingers, "Have to keep these in tip-top shape."

Gordan called for the exit arch and shook his head, saying, "Yeah, and I still don't understand how you can be so good with your hands when you can barely shoot any targets. It's been fun, but I can't say I'll miss all the extra hours I spent dragging you through this."

"You'll miss me, Gordan. You'd have been bored with all the free time if I hadn't come through your course." She chuckled and gave him a wave, ready to skip off and pack her temporary quarters.

He barked, rather gruffly, "Commander Gordan! You better start remembering all the protocol crap you doctors like to 'forget.'"

Chris was already several feet down the corridor and never turned to face him, just raising a hand in a wave, "Yeah yeah. I'll remember when I have some pips on again."

=/\= Present Day =/\=

An artificial computer voice announced over the ship comms, "Attention all passengers, we will be docking with Starbase Eleven Seventy. If you are disembarking, please make your way to your assigned docking port."

Chris already had a bag on her shoulder, PADD in hand, ready to get off the transport ship that had been her torture chamber for the last several, boring weeks of travel.

To say she was more than ready to exit the vessel would have been a significant understatement. Having an abundance of free time during the voyage, she had familiarized herself with 'Cold Station Theta.' Resnik was looking forward to being on a reasonably new Starbase, getting back into Starfleet already felt right in a way she couldn't explain.

Chris had spent time with her family while back on Earth. Though she liked seeing her brother's, her parents, and pack of nieces and nephews, it didn't feel like her family anymore. Resnik had been gone so long, off exploring the galaxy, starting new hospitals on far and distant worlds, she felt like an outsider anymore in a place that used to be a comfort. Resnik loved them all, but Starfleet felt more like home, more familiar and more predictable. At home, she felt like an art piece, stared at, questioned, examined, and out of place at times.

She rubbed the pip and a half on her collar, never caring what weight was there, never wanting to more than a doctor. The rank she wore is what Starfleet had open for her, and she took it without hesitation.

Resnik was excited, filled with nervous energy she hadn't experienced in years. A crocked smile on her face as she was scanned off the transport vessel and her PADD updated with new orders, a quarter's assignment, and an appointment to check in with her supervisor and the station commander.

LtJG Chris Resnik
Cold Station Theta ]]>
Sun, 07 Jun 2020 17:58:44 +0000
JL| Cmdr. th'Zarath & Cmdr Merlin | "Of Pods and Perils..."
Mission - Dust Stirring

The situation with the small ship which came drifting out of the nebula brought back memories to the station's CO. Years ago he had arrived in a similar manner, but unlike the badly wounded woman who was now in the medical bay, he had come out of his escape pod unhurt… but with no memory of how he got there whatsoever. None at all. His first actual memory was of looking up at a ring of faces which looked down at him in turn.

There had been some flashes since then, here and there. Not enough to be actual memories, just… echoes, ghosts, here and there. A fleeting sensation that he had once cared very much for someone, and that this someone had been lost to him. A lover? A wife? A child? No idea.

He had visited the escape pod again a few times, since then. His only real posession from the mysterious 'before', together with a necklace with a pendant consisting of interlocking circles. Similar patterns were edged on the outside of the pod. Decoration? Or did they have actual meaning? Another mystery that would probably be never answered.

The last time he had visited it, awhile ago, something odd had happened. And now, as he was thinking back about his own past and lack thereof, he remembered that he had taken the station's Chief Engineer to see it, a short time later….

-/\- Some months back -/\-

During a quiet hour, Cold Station Theta's XO made his way to Engineering. There was something about this place which he loved: the quiet atmosphere of people working and tinkering on stuff – though on occasion that quiet atmosphere was disturbed when a frustrated engineer started swearing at a hapless machine.

This was one of the quiet times, though. There was always plenty to do on a station this size and age, so 'quiet' in Engineering was a relative term. The XO spotted the person he needed right away: a tall, strong Andorian. "Ah, Commander," he said as he walked over. "I wonder if you have a moment? I have a riddle which might interest you."

Thelin placed the PADD down as he heard the voice behind him and turned to his right to cast a glance over the XO as he approached, the Andorian's hair is ruffled and slightly unkempt and his uniform is less pristine than it usually is, the skin on his face is sunken and gives the impression of a man who is exhausted. "Ah, Commander Merlin, riddles I have time for, I believe," he replied as he turned fully, revealing his left side and an empty cybernetic socket where an arm should be.

The XO frowned slightly at Thelin's appearance. His first thought was: This man belongs in a sick bay. Knowing the stubbornness of engineers in general and this man's issue with the CMO of in particular, he doubted his suggestion would be welcome, though. "Are you sure, Commander?" he asked. "It's nothing urgent. It can wait… until after you've rested, or something."

A slight chuckle passed the tired Andorian's lips as he coughed for a moment and used his remaining hand to smooth his hair back over his head, a shake of his head loosened a couple of strands and took them to hang over his left eye, "Rest is a commodity I have very little of, yet crave more with each passing day," he replied as his antennae reached out towards the XO with interest, "Doctor Valeese has me restricted to light duties and sedated at night, while... this is investigated and repaired." he punctuated the pause with a gesture at his empty socket and a cocked smile, "What is this riddle you speak of?"

"I'm sorry to hear about your troubles," the XO said lightly. Knowing the Chief Engineer, he had little patience for sympathy. It wasn't as if there was much he could do about it, other than offer a distraction. "It's probably easier to show you. Somehow something suddenly became bigger on the inside and I can't figure out how. Care to follow me?"

Laughing slightly, Thelin moved to follow behind the XO towards this interesting development, he reached up and scratched at his temple a few times, "Don't tell me someone in the science labs has decided to break the laws of physics again? Really I have no idea how Humans do it, everything we think we know about the universe is so much more... malleable when put in the hands of a Human."

"I don't think so," the XO said as they left Engineering and walked to the nearest turbolift. "It wasn't done in a science lab. And apart from me, I don't think anyone has been there for years. Though," he mused aloud, "the last time before now that I was down there I did show it to a human Engineer with a great knack for both machinery and mischief, so maybe she did something…" He shook his head, making the few dark curls which had escaped dance around. "The pod ought to have been locked, though. Nope, still can't figure it out."

They entered the turbolift and he gave a brisk order for the correct desk – but still couldn't really help touching the side of the 'lift and murmuring something under his breath. The doors slid close and the turbolift moved down, smoothly and rapidly.

"So this is another of the rather... abandoned sections of the original station?" Thelin asked as he tightened his grip on the railing in the lift, despite the artificial gravity he was feeling the effects of losing a part of himself and the associated balance issues, his knuckles whitened and he gritted his teeth slightly as he felt the lift shift.

"More or less," the XO said. "This is the long-term storage section. There are a few docking bays out here too, for smaller craft. They usually belong to civilians who have mande the station their home. It's never very busy, but it still gets used once in a bit." The lift came to a rest and he stepped out, into the clean and barren corridors of the deep station. Some of the doors they passed, he knew, hadn't been opened in years. He sometimes wondered if the owners of those rooms were still around and made a mental note to look that up at one point. Or better yet, ask someone from Ops. It wasn't as if they would run out of storage room soon, but still, it was always a good idea to keep things up to date.

He touched the sensor plate to open a door no different than any other on this deck. The room contained only one object. "This is the life pod I was found in," he said, and his hand involuntarily reached up to touch the small pendant tucked away under his shirt. Together with the pod, it was the only evidence that he had once lived a life before he came here, a life which he couldn't remember. "So, it's alien tech, and as far as I know nobody has been able to identify where it came from. That's not even the most remarkable thing about it now, though."

Now that the pod was standing on end, the round indentation to open it was at chest height. He touched it and again the front – which used to be the top – irised open. He looked inside: nothing had changed since his last visit. The inside was still twice as big as it ought to be.

Then he stepped aside and gestured for Thelin to take a look. "See if you can explain."

Taking a few moments to look around the external surfaces of the pod, Thelin was intrigued and poked his head inside the opening with curiosity causing his antennae to reach out into the space, "This..." he bought his head back outside and looked around at the side of the pod again before thrusting his head inside again, "This should... I mean the holodecks can create the illusion of space... but this appears to be very much real, it's certainly not big enough... on the outside... for that kind of equipment."

"That's what I thought," the wild-haired man said with a nod. "There simply isn't enough space in here for either holographic equipment or a space folder. Unless it's a holographic masking field, or the equipment itself is space-folded."

"And you say you were found inside this... thing?" Thelin asked as he started running his single hand over the external surface, feeling for hidden panels or controls, any slight imperfections which could indicate a control mechanism other than the obvious ones, possibilities thrust themselves through his mind, cutting through the fog and confusion caused by the pain and lack of sleep, "The computers have been unable to quantify this so far?"

"Pretty much." He ran a hand through his hair, which didn't improve it. "It's an unknown alloy. Maybe something indigenous to the nebula, maybe it comes from even further away… I'm not a scientist, I don't know. All I know is that it wasn't this big on the inside when I was found. It was just… well, pretty much the same way as it is now, only the proper size. I mean, the size you expect looking from outside. So, either someone is pulling a joke on me or something really weird is happening. Beats me."

"Well, weird is kind of our wheelhouse out here on the ragged edge." The Andorian chuckled as he circled the pod and stuck his head inside for a moment again, his antennae flattened slightly as he pulled his head out again, "Are the internal sensors active in this section or is this one of the small number of sections that is technically off the grid? I don't recall seeing it on the internal schematics when we were doing the full retrofit, but that's not a surprise on a facility this old."

"Not active, no." As usual, he had that information ready. There had been no need to look it up. He just tended to absorb stuff, useless facts as well as useful-but-rarely-used data, which was then stored somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind until needed. All that, but not a clue about his past – though, he sometimes thought, maybe it was just because he held so few memories of the time before his arrival that there was room in his mind for all this clutter. "There are supposed to be sensors in the corridor to record people walking there, but since they're so rarely activated, at some point in the past they've been taken off-line or they just quit of their own accord. And inside these rooms and berths, no sensors at all." He sighed. "It's on the list to have them repaired and reactivated, but you know it better than I do… it's a long list."

"And getting longer with each passing day." Thelin replied with a slight sigh and a gesture towards his missing arm, "If its not the station falling apart, it's the crew, quite literally in my case." he added with another chuckle before placing his hand on the shell of the pod and looking over the First Officer, "Well, I'll schedule a couple of crews to come through and triple check the systems in this section, if we're going to do any kind of investigation, hand held equipment won't do, there's only so much a tricorder can do, we'll need the full weight of modern internal sensor suites and the computer to even begin formulating any kind of theory."

He made a sweeping motion with his arm. "Go for it. At worst it's going to be an interesting exercise for some engineers and maybe science officers, at best you come up with actual answers." He stared at the probe again and shook his head. "It would be nice to get some actual answers for a change, instead of more questions. Want me to leave it open or shall I close it again?"

"I think, close it up for now, I'd rather not have any surprises." Thelin replied with a slight smile as he ran his hand down the exterior of the pod, "I'll have the computer begin recording the internal sensor data for this section once we get them online, at least we can keep an eye on things while we get everything else fully operational."

"To prevent any more surprises, hopefully." He pressed his hand against the outside of the pod and it closed again. "Anyway. Let me know what your findings are." They left the room together and he locked the door behind him. "Good luck."

-/\- Now -/\-

And now, he wondered if Thelin had made any progress since then.

To Be Continued...

Commander Thelin th'Zarath
Chief Engineering Officer


Commander Evan Merlin
Commanding Officer

Cold Station Theta]]>
Sat, 06 Jun 2020 23:47:25 +0000
Daydreams & Nightmares - Part 2
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Cold Station: Theta
Timeline - 242006.02

Rook working the controls launched dozens of drones from the USS Warrior. Her hands moving as fast as she could. She had never directly controlled this many fighters/drones before. She was sure that no one person had till this point. As she did she heard Johnson tell Enor “Sir, reports from Quantico report that 40% of the Marine forces have not yet been evacuated!”

The Commodore was angry. “What?! Tell them to speed it up!” Enor stood up. His quick movement drawing Rook’s attention for away from her console for a second. “Send all remote fighters into the heart of the Klingon force...let’s see if they are perceived a threat.”

Rook was pressing the fighter comm barking orders to the fighters. “Warrior to all fighters, remotes are out, give them some cover while they are on the way to targets!” Realizing that Enor had spoken to her. “Aye sir!”

Lt Commander Johnson was on the comms again “Warrior to Evac teams get a move on down there we don't have all day get out of there ASAP!”

Enor looked at Johnson. Rook couldn’t see the Commodore’s face but his voice conveyed fear under his anger as he spoke. “Walter, I want our men back on the ship.”

Rook tried her best to control the dozens of drones by hand and watched as her readout showing the 350 total drones from all the Star Fleet vessels filling the battle field. She directed them toward the Klingon warship. As they traveled she watched several of them explode in a massive fireball. The size of the battle was too much for Rook to control by hand. She finally pulled the data cable from her pocket and connected it to the console and slammed the other end into the data port on the back of her neck in hopes that she can control them better directly. Her vision blurred as she was being feed the sensor information from dozens of drones. It was dizzying and disorientating. Almost falling over from the burst of information into her skull she braced herself on the console. Finally gaining her Barings from the link. Rook willed all the drones avoiding both allies and enemy weapons fire. Adeptly avoiding debris that was quickly filling the battle ground.

Rook watched from dozens of points of view as the massive force of drone went mostly ignored by the Klingon forces who seems intent on driving into the heart of the Federation force. She smiled in glee as she watched and FELT her drones find their targets. The explosions tearing though the Klingon warships. Each ship hit getting crippled by the power of the Tri-Cobalt warheads and the reactors of the drones. As each drone hit, Rook got better and better as each explosion allowed her to focus more and more as her attention is split less and less. As the final drone found its target she could see that they had crippled the Klingon forces with massive losses. Ignoring the drones is a mistake they won’t soon forget she told to herself.

Still connected to the console Rook could see every inch of the bridge from the ships internal sensors and monitors. Enor smiled at the view screen.”Good!” he cheered.

Johnson nodded at Enor’s cheer. “Yes Sir!” He hit the comm “Warrior Evac Teams Prepare for immediate Beam Out!” Johnson hit his com badge to talk within the ship “Transporter Room lock onto the Teams and beam them out as soon as we drop shields!”

Ensign Servo watched as his console lite up. “I’ve got a ton of Klingon casualties.”

Rook reached around to the back of her next and pulled the data cable from the dataport on her neck. It took her a second to regain her senses. She was staring down at her console “Sir, I’m out of remotes.” She said as she looked up at Commodore Enor.

Johnson turned to Ensign Servo. “Ensign, drop shields for transport!” He spun around to look at Rook. “Commander Bartley, get our people home please!” Rook could feel the feeling of relief from not just the commander but the whole bridge crew as they all felt that they can finally breathe as everything is going not just according to plan but better then planned.

Ensign Servo was tapping the keys on his console to comply with the XO’s order. “Aye, Commander!” On Rook’s console she could see the shields were lowered.

Enor also was looking at Ensign Servo. “Tactical, concentrate fire on the Vorcha class cruisers! Order all ships to do the same.” Rook could tell that Enor was feeling embolden by the drone’s successful attack.

The Ensign turned to face the Commodore with excitement. “7% of the Klingon force is destroyed. Another third has been significantly damaged or crippled!” He spun back to his console and pressed the comm. “All Federation ships, concentrate fire on the Vorcha class cruisers!” He released the comm. “Commodore, weapons are online, waiting for a specific target.”

Rook looked back down at her console hitting the controls getting the lock on the USS Warrior’s crew. As she did Lt Commander Draconis’s voice came over her comms. “Katris to Warrior, Our people are losing down!”

She worked as fast as she could. “Aye Aye!” she responded as she engaged all the ship’s transporters to beam up the evacuation teams. Rook’s console flashed in warning as some of the surviving Klingon vessels raged forward pushing within meters of the USS Warrior driving into the Federation lines. Rook ignored the warming as she was finishing getting the Warrior’s crew back aboard.

A new series of alarms blared across the bridge as all too familiar sound to Rook of Klingon transporters beams filled the USS Warrior’s bridge. Rook looked up to as she heard the sound and Lt Commander John yell “CRAP!! Intruder Alert!!”

Rook seeing three Klingon figures materializing on the bridge. “SHI@#$!!!” She yelled in surprise. Lt Col Vale reacting instantly to the intruders, charged forward tackling the Klingon that appeared beside him. Commodore Enor yelled to Ensign Servo “Get shields up!” He chopped at the Klingon near him knocking the disruptor out of the Klingon’s hand.

Rook ducked down behind her console grabbing the phaser that was stored under the console ripping it out. As she does Rook see’s Ensign Servo working on raising the shields in panic as the bridge is erupting in the chaos of battle. Johnson hit his com badge yelling “Transporter Room lock onto the Klingons and beam them out of here!” as he ducks behind a console and fires a shot at the nearest Klingon. The shot missing and impacting the console display on the far side of the bridge causing it to erupt in sparks and shattered glass.

As the battle raged on the bridge Rook heard Commander Paris, the Chief Engineer on the comm. “Engineering to Bridge, We have...” there was a pause that was filled with weapons fire. “around 4 intruder down here...”

The Klingon that Enor disarmed pulled out his bat'leth squaring off with the Commodore. The third Klingon fires several blasts impacting the console that Lt Commander Johnson was taking cover behind. Rook popped up firing a volly of phaser blasts at the Klingon firing on Johnson. Several bolts go wide impacting the wall behind the Klingon. One of the bolts struck the Klingon in the side dropping him to his knee.

Rook Watched in horror as the bat'leth wielding Klingon, swung it down as he drew it cleanly severing Commodore Enor’s left hand who grabs the stub falling to the deck reeling in pain.

Lt Col Vale continued to struggle with the Klingon. He pulled his knife and managed to plunge it through the throat of the Klingon, pinning the corpse to the floor of the bridge.

Rook yelled in Klingon at the intruders “GET OFF MY BRIDGE!” She turned to fire at Klingon that dismembered her CO’s hand.

Lt Commander Johnson yelled “Commodore!!” As he reacts firing a solid stream from his phaser impacting the Klingon in the chest vaporizing him.

The Klingon that Rook shot staggered but alive turns his disruptor to her sending a disruptor blast rocketing out impacting her in the chest. As the Klingon fires at Rook, Ensign Servo finally getting the shields online, runs and grabs a dropped phaser then taking cover behind a console in defense. Rook staggers back a step then falls back from the blast leaving a 4” hole going through her.

Commander Shawe joining the frey, finally gets her hand on a phaser after taking cover behind her seat. Lt Commander Johnson ducks a follow up disrupter blast and yells out to the computer. “Computer! Lock onto the intruders and transport them into space!”

Lt Col Vale makes his way to his feet clutching the dead Klingon’s bat’leth he takes cover behind a console as Ensign Servo tells back at Johnson. “The shields are up!” As he watches Rook collapse, he bolts over to her disregarding anything going on around him “Shit…”

Rook laying on the floor looked down at the massive hole in her chest and smiled. “I thought it wou…” Rook's eyes grew heavy. The world was encased in dark before her as everything went cold...


Rook's eyes fluttered and slowly opened. Her eyes taking time to adjust to the light of the med bay. She was looked around and pushed herself upright on the cold bed. Her eyes went wide as she grabbed her chest and looked down expecting to find a four inch hole. She was wearing a medical patient robe. She opened the front panel of her robe to find a huge scar instead of a gaping hole. She looked around. This was definitely a Star Fleet sickbay but it didn't look like any ship she had seen. "Where the hell am I?

"Look who is finally awake." A voice from behind her said.
Wed, 03 Jun 2020 01:45:34 +0000
Daydreams & Nightmares - Part 1
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Cold Station: Theta
Timeline - 242005.30

Memory can be a funny thing. The things that one remembers. The things that one forgets, and the things that one wishes they could forget. After her brief bout with consciousness in the med bay. Rook struggled to remember what happened to her. She hurt. Every ounce of her body hurt. Her mind in a fog. Slowly a memory of the USS Warrior came to her It was the last thing she could remember thanks to her data-port that was implanted into her. Augmentation contained a memory storage which recorded her memories. It was a useful tool to Rook in her life. Allowed her be able to actually recall any information that she had experienced. The memory of the bridge was the last thing she could recall. Her memory flooding into her mind as the memory storage worked to restore her. She was standing on the bridge of the USS Warrior, at her station... wait that is wrong... she was on the floor, behind her station seeing Ensign Servo running over to her... As soon as that moment hit her she when into shock. That last memory she had cascaded into her mind. The memory hurt... After being sedated with the hypo-spray Rook was trapped. Trapped in her last memory. She watched helplessly as the memory played out before her...

Unknown to Rook, the last memory she had was of a day that would be recorded in Federation History as 'The Battle of Quantico'. Where countless lives were lost... and thousands of lives were saved...

=/\= The Battle Of Quantico =/\=
Stardate: 240510.01

The lights on the bridge were dim. The red lights running along the ceiling of the bridge were flashing. The sound of the alert blaring at Rook. She looked down at her console’s display. The tactical display showed the massive force of Klingon ships staying on the edge of the system and the locations of all the USS Warrior’s fighters. On the corner of the display displayed the Star Date. 240510.01. The sound of the doors opening to her left caused her to look over to see Commodore Enor walk onto the bridge and Lt Commander Johnson getting up to let the Commodore has his seat. “We are almost ready launch the unmanned fighters sir, The Klingon have cause some damage but seem to be withholding their main forces.”

The Commodore looked over at Ensign Bourgeois “Ensign Bourgeois, please send a message to the rest of the Fleet. Form an arc around the evacuation ships, all destroyer class ships take forward, fighters take the front. All Cruiser and Command ships remains in the rear with all ships conducting evacuations at the center.” Enor’s voice was stern and serious. Rook could feel a feel and tension from him that she has never seen before.

The young ensign plugged away at the console. “Aye sir”.

Commodore Enor, turned his chair to face Lt Myers-Korialis. “Tactical, analyze the current formation of the Klingon fleet, and their attacks. Specifically the concentration, they may have found a weakness.” He spun back to face the screen which was currently displaying a tactical view of the system.

Lt Myers-Korialis nodded “Already on it!” Rook could hear the sound of the Lt’s fingers dancing over the tactical console.

Lt Commander Johnson now finally sitting his him normal chair. “Warrior to Fighters, stay close for now we will be launching the Drones soon. When we do protect them till they reach their targets.” Rook looked at the Bridge’s main screen and watch in shock feeling helpless watching Quantico being ravaged as several Klingon detachments broke though the lines. Rook’s console flashed a message showing that Klingon raiding parties have beamed down to the planet.

Commodore Enor tapped on his com badge “Fighter bay, good work Lieutenant...keep us informed of your progress.”

Lt Commander Johnson, looked over at at Enor. “Sir, as far as my scans got while you were away, I was able to determine that the Klingons were concentrating on the ships with the 'green' command teams.”

Enor nodded to Johnson. “The movements of those ships is obvious, bring us into line with them to reinforce that section of the formation.”

Rook pulled the Op’s ear piece out of the console and shoved it into her ear to let her listen in on the fighter coms due to noise of the red alert siren. As she did she heard Ensign Bourgeois turn to her, “Commander, I'm not feeling so well request to be relieved of duty.” Then the ensign leaned over on console.

Rook placed one hand over the ear piece to hear as she pointed with her other hand at the ensign. “Denied Ensign, stay our post!”

Enor looked back at the Ensign, “Ensign Bourgeois, keep the Fleet informed. I want the USS Mayhem to join us in reinforcing the green section of our lines. Please inform them.” Ensign Bourgeois stood back up and hailed the USS Mayhem relaying the Commodore’s order. “Helm take us to the side of the USS Staunton.” Enor barked at Lt Jg Rodgers.

Rook was barely aware of Rodgers complying with the order keeping the Warrior even with the USS Mayhem as she was fixated on her console. Her heart pounded as she watched the mainstay of the Klingon force push forward in a full scale movement headed straight into the lines. Rook knew that this evacuation is about to become nothing but a blood bath. To Rook’s left she heard Ensign Servo say “the Klingons are on the move.” As he raised his hand.

Johnson looked over at Ensign Bourgeois, nodding and going over. “Your relieved ensign.” Then the Lt Commander took over the post and transferred his tactical readout over as well. Rook looked over thinking to herself. ‘We need every hand on deck!’ Before Rook could voice her thoughts to the XO, Johnson yelled at Enor. “Sir the Klingons are headed right for the lines at full strength, we need to speed up Evac!”

The sound of Captain Savage from the Mayhem com over the bridge com’s. “Aye Warrior, tell Enor we need to get our asses out of here soon, the Klingons don't look to friendly anymore!”

Enor nodded at Johnson. “Get our people back now.” Enor’s voice carried a tone of confidence but Rook could tell the Commodore was worried that the evacuation teams weren’t going to make it back. “Okay, Support the other ships...Target the nearest Klingon...when they get in range give them hell.”

Lt Commander Johnson hit the ships comms “Warrior to all teams prepare for beam out the Klingons just unleashed their full complement we won't last long!” Seeing Ensign Servo handling tactical Johnson moved back to the XO chair.

Rook looked up at Enor. “Sir, we should coordinate our fire with the other ships. Everyone hit the same ship. That way we can take them out faster.”

Enor leaned on the arm of his chair. “Tell those kids to keep by us. We'll take lead here.” He spun around to look at Rook their eyes meeting. “Agreed,” He turned to look at Ensign Servo at tactical. “Tactical, can you send your targeting info to the other ships?”

A flashing red light triggered on her console to report that the several of the Star Fleet vessel’s Tri-Cobalt armed fighters are read for launch. Rook pushed the comm push to talk key. “Warrior to all fighters!” She took a breath. “We are sending targeting data, Fire on the target listed!”

Johnson now sitting in his usual seat next to Enor looks at Enor. “Commodore several ships in the fleet are reporting their 'bombs' ready for launch.” He paused for a second as if listening to someone talk but all Rook could hear was the sound of all the fighters acknowledging her orders. Johnson tapped his badge. “Good Work Lieutenant” he said in response then untapped his comm badge. “And it seems ours are ready to go as well shall we...”
The Commodore smiled for the first time since they had arrived in this system. “Okay, Launch all Tri-Cobalt armed fighters... have them take the lead. Keep a safe distance. Commander Bartly, please operate the fighters remotely.”

Rook took another deep breath. She hoped that this plan would work. “Yes sir.” She knew this was a long shot and banked on the Klingons ignoring the drones to deal with the Star Fleet cruisers and destroyers. She quickly hit keys on her console transferring the targeting data to all the other fighters and outed control of the remotes to her console.

As Rook worked on transferring full control of the drones to her console she heard Lt Commander Johnson yell into the comms. “All vessels launch Tri-Cobalt armed fighters.” As Johnson ordered the launch, Lt Commander Draconis’ voice came over the comm trying to get Enor’s attention.

Sat, 30 May 2020 23:20:06 +0000
(Lt.)Cmdr. Bartly & Cmdr. Evan Merlin | A Rude Awakening
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Cold Station: Theta
Timeline - 242005.**

"Five minutes, no more." The doctor looked at him, sternly. All doctors seemed to have that look down pat, he reflected. That look of 'mess with my patients and you mess with me'. That look which could make Commodores cower and Admirals hide. It was amusing, as long as that look wasn't directed at you.

It was one of the reasons he tended to avoid the medbay whenever possible. Doctors were brilliant people, absolutely essential, and he loved to talk to them – but he preferred to do that outside of their domain.

He nodded obediently. "Absolutely."

"You must understand, she's still very weak. It's a miracle she survived. She might not even be coherent."

"I'll take it easy, I promise."

With a brisk nod, the doctor stepped aside. "Remember, five minutes."

"I'll remember," he said and entered the room.

The lights were dimmed, but there was enough to see the sole occupant of the room, lying on one of the beds. He walked towards her. "Hi there," he said softly.

Rook slowly opened her eyes, trying to focus on the person speaking to her. The lights hurt even in their low level. Turning her head slowly to face the speaker she couldn't get her eyes to focus. All she knew was every part of her hurt. Rook tried to speak, but the sound didn't want to come out. Her voice raspy and soft. "Wh....ere..." a second passed before she was able push out another word. "Wha...t ha....ppen..d."

He couldn't answer that question, but tried to give as many of the essential facts in a short statement. "You're on Cold Station Theta, on the edge of Federation space, near the Romulan Empire and the Stenellian Ascendancy. We found a tiny ship drifting out of a nearby nebula, in very bad condition, and brought you in. We don't know what happened to you before." For now, he decided to leave out the fact that his science officer had indeed found dissipating chroniton radiation around the ship, indicating that some temporal displacement had taken place. She would find out soon enough, herself, but for now she needed to rest, and to heal.

Rook closed her eyes to shield them from the searing lights of the room she was in. She was in pain, her mind sluggish, trying to piece what was happening to her. "Wait, did he say Romulan space?" She thought to herself though the cloud of haze and pain that seemed to be her current existence. "Cold.... Station..... Isn't that.... Refueling sta.... how did..... I get...." She processed the information as fast as she could. "Tiny... Ship?" her voice finally starting to gain some strength. "I was... on the bridge... then... then.... I..." Rook winced in pain and shock. "ENOR!" She screamed with as much energy she could muster. Rook started to violently kick and toss on the small medbay bed she was on as if she was reliving a horrible experience.

Several of the medical staff quickly dashed over to the now extremely aggressive patient, grabbing onto her in an attempt to restrain her before she was able to kill herself from the violent movement. One of the medical staff spun toward a table grabbing a hypo and sprinting back pressing it into Rook's neck. A loud 'pissshhhhh' sounded from the small device. It only took a second before the contents of the hypo took effect leaving Rook still and once again unconscious. "There is no way she should be able to move like that in her condition." The young med tech said to Commander Merlin. "What did you say to her?"

He had stepped aside to let the staff do their work and studied the medical display above the bed. It showed that she was human (though the indicator highlighted something in the base of her neck which indicated that there was an oddity there), none of the oddities which he himself displayed. A part of him was disappointed – he had never met anyone like himself and it just would've been nice if the new arrival had been. However, this was another thought which could wait until later, so he brushed it aside with a mental wave of a hand.

"I told her where she was found and where she is now," he replied. "She did know the station was a refueling station, but her last memory is of being on a bridge…" Well. Considering the trauma, it wsan't surprising there would be some memory loss. Whether it would be temporary or permanent would remain to be seen.
Sat, 30 May 2020 23:00:09 +0000
242005.28 | "Welcome to CST"
Mission - Dust Stirring

=/\= Holography Lab, Cold Station Theta

“Ensign, may I see you in my office, please?” Lieutenant Palmer asked as he approached a young Bolian from behind.

That Bolian's name was Noq Vodd, and he had been been working on the primary reason for his assignment to CS Theta – an ambitious project to create stable holographic decoys to aid vessels in star ship combat. His current focus with regard to this project was finding a way to create offensive capabilities that actually caused damage to the opposing vessel. In short: he needed to turn off the safeties on a massive scale; and there was a lot more that was needed to create the vision of the project's creator, but somewhere he'd heard the phrase “One impossible thing at a time,” and that had become his mantra.

It wasn't often that he needed to interact with the station's staff due to the nature of his assignment; technically, this specific R&D project assignment under the command of a civilian contractor: Doctor Reilly. As a junior officer, it wasn't often he needed to consult with those outside of his work group, and that was what made the appearance of Lt Palmer so strange—what could the station's Chief of Operations want with a random Ensign he'd never met.

“Of course, sir,” the enthusiastic Ensign replied, dropping the PADD he'd been working on as if it were too hot to handle. “If this is regarding the physical integrity test next week, my estimates were as... conservative as I could make them,” he continued as he approached and fell into step with the Lieutenant. “You see, I understand that maintaining the balance of resources is one of the more challenging aspects of your job, especially considering the massive scale of the station's resources, and juggling them with the expectations of...”

Noq didn't stop talking until they'd reached Palmer's office and with a look of exasperation the Lieutenant held up his hand in the universal gesture that encouraged others to be quiet, thereby interrupting Noq's explanation of the disastrous and, quite frankly embarrassing events that preceded the presentation of his final project in Advanced Intergalactic Communication at the Academy.

“Ensign,” the Lieutenant began, forestalling his initial inclination to grab a seat and offer his guest a drink—seemed as if they'd be there for hours if the verbose Bolian was given the opportunity to get comfortable. “Your project leader has impressed upon me how pleased he is with your work on this 'Photonic Fleet' project, and feels that you are ready for a position with a bit more responsibility.”

“Really?” Noq replied with a bit more enthusiasm that was necessary. “That's fantastic news! I'm so glad that she feels that way!” he continued to exclaim. “You know, I was really excited when she chose me—of all people—as a holo-tech on this truly groundbreaking project. Right out of the Academy--technically before the day I graduated. Did she tell you the story? You see, I was actually having dinner wi--”

“No, she didn't, but why don't we discuss that another time?” the Lieutenant interjected. Thankfully, Ensign Vodd didn't immediately attempt to resume his vocal train of thought.

From his perspective, Vodd felt that the fascinating tale of the moment he received the first official assignment of his Starfleet career was an experience that any officer could understand, and what better way to learn about him than to hear about the things he'd accomplished and struggles he'd worked his way through. It had only happened a few short months ago; thankfully he had also learned over the course of his Academy instruction that when a senior officer interrupted him it was protocol to stop talking.

“What she did tell me,” the Lieutenant continued, “was that she feels you would be a good fit here. After reading over your record, I agree.” As he reached for a PADD he winced, realizing his mistake almost immediately. The break in conversation was an opportunity for the Ensign to resume his babbling.

Noq thought nothing of saying “That's high praise coming from such a brilliant and experienced scientist,” during the split second when the Lieutenant paused to take a breath. “Did you kno--”

“THESE are your orders.” Palmer thrust the PADD into the Bolian's blue hands, glad to've forestalled another wandering narrative, but feeling slightly guilty at his own brusqueness. “We're giving you a couple days to get your affairs in order, then you are to report to Commander Merlin, as you'll be joining the station's Operations Department as Alpha Shift Ops Officer.”

“Really!?” Vodd exclaimed a second time, with even more excitement in his body language and the pitch of his voice. “Thank you SO much Lieutenant! I can't wait to work with you! This is an amazing opportunity, and, y'know while I am really enjoying working with Doctor Reilly, the opportunity for real-live deep space duty is huge! Do you have any idea? Just before graduation EVERYBODY was hoping to get out there among the stars to live their Starfleet fantasy. I remember one of my best friends—and roommate—so many funny stories with this guy. Anyway...”

What have I done? Palmer wondered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“... but even though I lost the bet, holography was one of may favorite courses of study, so I didn't really care. I mean, I was recruited by a civilian with enough Federation clout to basically have her own star ship! Can you believe it!?” Vodd concluded, pausing as if he anticipated Palmer's excitement to rival his own.

“Yes,” Palmer deadpanned. “You're standing here, and I've read your service record, so yes, I ca—Ensign. I'm sorry but I have a lot of work to do. Your station credentials have already been authorized, so you can pick your quarters and move in on your own; just make sure you report to the Commander prior to your first shift. Dismissed.”

“Do you mean like the day before, or an hour or two before?” Vodd asked, almost as if he either didn't understand that he'd been dismissed, or maybe didn't hear it. “First impressions are important, and I really want to make a good one if I'm gonna be working with the CO of this place for however long he'll have me. Should I bring him something? Not like a bribe or anything, but maybe a cup of coffee. Tea? Does he prefer tea? Some people don't mind either, but some are absolutely opposed to one or the...”

By the time Noq took his leave from the Lieutenant's office, Palmer knew that he would do whatever it took to avoid attending any staff meeting the Bolian planned to attend. A full day could pass and Vodd would only be halfway through introducing himself.

=/\= Ensign Noq Vodd
Chief of Operations, Cold Station Theta

Thu, 28 May 2020 22:29:24 +0000
Cmdr. Evan Merlin | Flashback
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD242005.17

Things had been fairly quiet of late. The Romulans were quiet, there were no mysterious disappearances or murders on the station, even the people from Engineering didn't seem to have much to complain about these days.

It made the station's commander wonder when the other shoe was going to drop. Things were rarely this quiet here, and those periods of relative peace tended to be followed by something hectic all too soon. And based on past experiences, it seemed that the longer those quiet periods lasted, the harder the backlash was.

Ah well, one could always hope that the future would be better than the past.


He looked up. Two minutes and hirty-six seconds since he'd entered Central Ops and thus far everything had been quiet, but there was something in the tone of the Ops officer's voice which alerted him to a change.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Picking up a distress signal, sir. Coming from the Expanse."

The commander veered up. He felt his hearts hammering in his throat. "Heading?" He ran a hand through his hair, striving to sound calm, detached.

"It's coming towards us, sir. But it's a small vessel, adrift. Distress signal is an automated beacon."

"Is it in visual range?"

"Hang on… yes." Some furious tapping on the console and the viewscreen sprang to life. It displayed what once had been a lovely, sleek vessel drifting amidst a cloud of debris, the ship itself was mangled and full of holes.

Well, at least it didn't look like his own escape capsule- He shoved the thought away with ruthless efficiency. Later there would be time to ponder the similarities or differences between this new arrival and his own, many years ago.

"Life signs?"

A 'no' wouldn't have surprised him, considering the amount of damage. But to his surprise the Lieutenant said: "One, but very weak. If we wait until we can tow it in, it'll be too late."

"Can we transport?"

The Lieutenant looked up from the console again. "Maybe…" he said slowly. "With a hell of a transport technician and a lot of luck… maybe."

"Let's hope lady Luck is on their side, then." He tapped his comm badge and began to rapidly fire orders, summoning the best transporter tech to Transporter room one, alerting medical to a potential new arrival in extremely poor conditions and directing Flight Control to clear a path for the ship and pull it in when it was close enough. Lastly, he called Lt. Satan from the Science department. "When that ship comes close enough for a scan… scan for chroniton radiation."

And then there was nothing to do but wait, until he heard from either the transporter chief, or from medical, or both.

"We've got her, Commander. I beamed her directly to sickbay. Gotta tell you, though… it didn't look good."

He released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Thank you, chief. Let's hope the doctor can work one of her miracles."
Sun, 17 May 2020 20:54:22 +0000
A Ripple
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Ul-Kamari Expanse
Timeline - SD 242005.17

The Ul-Kamari Expanse was still and silent. But this would not be the case for long...

Space began to warp. The light of the stars dimmed and bent. Warping around forming a ring of twinkling lights surrounding a void of nothing. as twinkling ring formed around the void, bolts of light and energy crackled off the ring. The void itself did not remain static. It weaved and appeared to bulge forward but did not extend more than a few millimeters. Slowing the void began to tear open revealing a blue clouded tunnel beyond. As the tunnel was revealed, the anomaly grew larger until it was nearly a mile in diameter. A large pulse of tachyons burst forth from the fissure in space in a blinding purple-white light that felt like staring into a super nova.

As the light faded, a small vessel was left in the place of the strange anomaly. The crackling blue bolts of energy continuing to travel cross the small ship's hull before fading leaving no trace of the fissure that produced the ship. The small ship slowly rotating on an invisible axis that didn't match the shape of the ship. It drifted toward the large space station, driven by the gravity created by the large metal structure's mass. The small ship was a Rapier prototype Fighter in which only a handful were ever produced. It's hull covered in carbon scoring, plates of armor on its hull were missing, dozens of holes penetrating it. Large cracks wound their way up the horizontal stabilizers.

The Rapier was a small ship with weapons designed to take on ships a dozen times its size. Floating about the vessel was larges chucks of metal and debris. Enough material to triple the mass of the small fighter. It's cockpit was smashed and mangled. It's canopy pulled back and warped. The clear aluminum that makes up most of the canopy is shattered. The cockpit's controls dead and lifeless. Small parts and debris floating about in the lack of gravity occasionally bumping into the slumped over pilot who is still strapped into the pilot's seat.

The pilot was still, seemingly lifeless. Her body was clade in a red and black armored space suit with white legs and arms. Much like her small combat vessel, the armor she bore was also covered in burns, divots, and cracks. The young woman, her long blond hair was fold up into her helmet, had red streaks that marked her beautiful face where blood had been dripping down before the small cockpit lost it's gravity.

A few moments after the burst of tachyons had faded and the apparent rift disappeared from sight leaving no visual traces but all the tale-tell markers the rift still exists, the cockpit started to hum back to life. A single red light strobbed from inside the tiny cockpit. Its light reflecting off the unconscious pilot's visor. A female voice sounding in the pilots helmet "Warning Warning". The female mechanical voice paused for an instant before continued. "Life support critical failure detected. Suit integrity compromised." The continued to repeat itself in warning to the unresponsive pilot. "Warning Warning. Life support critical failure detected. Suit integrity compromised."....

The Rapier's automatic distress signal chimed. It's signal weak and broken...

=/\= To Be Continued =/\=

Commander Rook Bartly
Chief Operations Officer
USS Warrior NCC 71612-A
Sun, 17 May 2020 18:41:02 +0000
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD 241910.28

"Doesn't help that she's with child and they know it doesn't belong to the late Emperor." Rochelle couldn't help but sneak a quick quip in, pausing only to lean back deeper in her chair, "The sire of which is absent. Not that it's a truly big deal, everything I gather says that even the Empress herself was the result of a union between her mother and a courtesan." Flippantly, she shrugged, "I doubt she'll give her people much reason to doubt her intentions, after all she single handedly wrangled the Cardassian Union into behaving and we're not nearly as imperious or nasty as they can be, now are we?"

He answered that last quip with all seriousness, though the smile still lingered in his eyes. "UCIP as a whole isn't intent on conquering or slavery, no. Maybe it's because we like to work with all the different races which make up this group, draw from the strengths of each to become more than just the sum of her parts, instead of trying to subjugate to benefit just one single race." He picked up the tea spoon and twirled it between his fingers like a mini baton. "And in taking a husband from another race, and now another lover, it shows that in both her personal life as well as in her politics the Empress is prepared to look outward. Creating ties with the Romulans, defusing the Cardassians… Her coming here to several months ago, and now your visit to her, seems to indicate the desire of closer ties between the Stenellian Ascendancy and us as well."

"It could be argued, without a doubt." The smile in the man's eyes said everything she needed to hear, but the words defending the Empress and her suitors most certainly sealed the case and left it closed... At least for her. The rest of the wanton universe would simply have to continue to speculate. Quite simply put; it was none of their business. "She intends to birth her child at your station, just thought I should let you know. Something about Starfleet being better equipped to handle the unknown in the event of an emergency. It's news picked up and now placed in your lap," She reached idly for her cup, drawing it to her with some small degree of smug satisfaction.

"Well, thank the stars I'm not a medical officer," he said with a flash of a grin. "But I'm fortunate that we have a very capable doctor on board of the station, and she does have experience with Stenellis. Still, speaking of a sign of trust, this is a huge one. Imagine what would happen if anything should go wrong…" He sighed as several disaster scenarios ran through his mind. The child could die, the Empress could die, and that was just thinking about the birthing process, not even taking the potential for terrorism into account. Now there were sobering thoughts… "Thank you for the heads up," he said, and now he was completely serious again. "Do you know when she will arrive?"

"I imagine sometime within the next week or two," Rochelle mused on the question, digging through her mind for the exact answer and coming up relatively empty handed, "The Stenellis can be secretive, I don't blame them for keeping the travel plans of the Empress on lock down given the nature of this particular weed patch in space." She continued, "Which actually brings up another thought. I may need to borrow your doctor. Lieutenant Dai'xun is overdue to give birth and we're sort of on pins and needles as we wait. Special little family that one is, her relation to the Empress not withstanding."

He remembered them, the tall, thin Andorian who could barely restrain himself when Lieutenant Dai'xun was kidnapped together with Valeese, and the Lieutenant herself. He had seen them together only once. Despite the obvious contrast between the white haired, battlescarred man who was nearly twice as long as the lovely young woman, they suited each other wondrously. "They are indeed," he said softly. "Well, as long as she's able to work, our doctor is at your disposal."

An single russet brow lifted, "Is your doctor doing alright? I know that Captain Ch'Valenvok is on the station as well. I'm sure he wouldn't mind pitching in."

Now the smile popped back again – it never left his face for long. "Oh yes, she's fine. But, ah…" His fingers twitched, as if he was about to wave more words or thoughts away and he restrained them just a moment too late. "She might need to take some personal leave herself soon. But I'm sure the Captain won't mind helping out, and the Commander's staff is quite well-trained."

"Oh." Rochelle nodded as certain knowledge dawned on her. The news washed across her without the Station's skipper needing to paint a greater picture at all. A great part of her wanted to tease him, ask if he was responsible for that personal leave as well, but she knew better and simply didn't know him well enough at all to unleash her brand of humor on him. Not yet, anyway. "I have no doubt that everything will work out in the end. We'll just be staying put until it does and we receive new orders. I'm sure you won't mind playing host for a little bit." Of course he wouldn't. While he was the station's CO, she was Cheydinahll's task fleet CO. The area, and the ships within it, were hers and above that, Admiral Red's. Together they created a triangle of unspoken trust and understanding and in the middle of it all, the station spun ever stalwart in wait of way lay beyond.

A knowing grin flashed by. "Oh, indeed," he said dryly. "Welcome to , where even our secrets have secrets." He sipped the last of his tea and carefully set the delicate cup down. "And of course I don't mind. I always love having you guys around." He really meant it, too. He didn't know too many of the Vindicator's crew, but the people he did know he liked. Some might grow to become friends, in time. And thinking about time… "However, it's about time that I make my way back to Ops. See if there's anything new. Thank you for having me, Commodore."

"Of course." She smiled, finding her feet and extended a hand in his direction. Strange as he was, he was a good officer and the respect she offered had been - at least her mind - well placed, "Do come back for another visit. I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk about... Off the record."

He rose as well and gave a small bow. "It's a date," he said, and when he straightened from the bow he held one rose in his hand. The delicate petals shaded from red to yellow, miniature flames. He placed it on top of the empty cup, flower pointed at Rochelle. "Until next time, then." And with those words he vanished from her room.

Looking between the rose and the vacant spot he'd once held, Rochelle felt both of her brows creep several degrees higher, "I don't even want to know..." She muttered to herself, gathering up the flower for a quick study. It left her shaking her head, sighing, and getting up to fetch a bud vase from the replicator.

Until next time, indeed.


Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer

Commander Evan 'Talks To Stations' Merlin
Commanding Officer
Cold Station Theta]]>
Mon, 28 Oct 2019 21:21:30 +0000
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - USS Vindicator
Timeline - SD 241910.28

It was a few hours after the brawl, riot, murder, chaos on the Promenade. The station had lifted the lockdown and on the face of it operated as usual again. The blood had been cleaned, broken furniture thrown away and replacements had been ordered or replicated and put down. On the Promenade, the only sign that something bad had taken place here last night was a heightened security presence, and since not all of them were in uniform it wasn't something a casual visitor would notice.

In other places, the ripples did not fade away. There were still people in the medbay, and a lot more waiting in the holding cells. Camera footage had to be analysed, people had to be charged or discharged. And even a few hours of lockdown had thrown the delicate balance of shipping and storing goods out of whack and Ops and Logistics were scrambling to catch up.
Meanwhile, the station's CO stalked through the corridors. Not because of nighttime wanderings, this time, but because he had sent a message to the Commodore that he would like to visit her at her earliest convenience. So now he was on his way to the Vindicator, to meet with her. And he was stalking because the anger still burned within him.

Rationally he knew it was nonsense. The Federation, Klingons and Romulans had been eyeballing each other for over a century. There had been several wars the last few years, with the Dominion, the Borg and others. There had been countless incidents which never had actually boiled over into wars, though in some cases it had been close. There were organisations, even within the Federation, which didn't necessarily have people's best interests at heart. And even here, in his own neck of the woods, this remote corner of the Federation, there was the Romulan Empire on his doorstep on one end and the Stenellian Ascendancy, that unknown player, on the other.

So it was an illusion that he could ever hope to keep this station a safe place. Not when hundreds of people passed through the station each day, not with this place a veritable beehive and home to Federation citizens, Starfleet personnel, diplomats and their staff, Sector command and *their* staff, Starfleet Intel, the many visitors who stayed a few days or a few weeks, and the semi-permanent inhabitants from other places such as the Klingon family who ran the Heart of Targ restaurant and the Cardassian couple who had the flower shop on the second tier.

But that was ratio. Deep down inside him, something still cried out the thoughts that he had let slip to Valeese. Those people who lived here on this station were his responsibility, and it was his responsibility to keep them safe. There should be a place amidst all the hostility and the chaos were people could feel at home and relax, knowing that they were protected, their safety assured. That it was impossible didn't mean it wasn't something he could aspire to.

And today he had failed. Chaos had erupted around him and a man had died and he hadn't been able to stop it. It rankled.

He sighed as he approached Vindi's airlock and ran a hand through his hair to brush the few errant curls back which had escaped. He had made a quick visit to his quarters before coming here, just long enough to run through the sonic shower, put on a clean uniform and eat a few bites of what was technically speaking breakfast. But some strands had escaped from the tight band already. "Well, anyway," he muttered to himself and nodded at the ensign on duty.

The mood had shifted since the great ship had arrived. Rochelle had felt it the moment she'd departed the ship for sake of hunting for 'fresh air' and found that even the station's arboretum had succumbed to that off putting feeling that settles when high trouble is afoot. It hardly left her with the warm and fuzzy feeling so many often associated with returning to home port... In fact, it left her with a sensation of dread clawing away at the pit of her stomach. While technically off duty, the message the station's commanding officer had sent spoke of utmost importance and a need for her to consider expediting their meeting - understanding the delicate balance of things, and desiring not to repeat the failure of the Whydah, she found that granting him his request suited her fancy just fine.

By the time he'd arrived, tea was ready and sat steaming on a tray. "Commander," Rochelle greeted as the door hissed open and revealed him to her, "It's been awhile. Have a seat."

Tea. One of humanity's most soothing beverages. There were quite a few other races who drank tea or infusions, but there were a few subgroups of human culture who had erected complete ceremonies about the proper drinking of tea. Utterly fascinating, it was stylized and formal, yet that very formality had a calming effect. He had been fortunate to attend one such ceremony, and the smells wafting from the delicate pot took him back to that time, for one moment. He was grateful for that, if nothing else.

"Thank you, Commodore." A minute exchange of signals and he slid into the designated chair. "I want to apologize in person for the hectic reception you received upon arrival." No amount of tea could dispel those memories anytime soon, much as he wanted to. "It was as unexpected to us as it must've been for you." Of course. Situations like these were always unexpected, emergencies were never planned for. The only plans which were there were how to deal with them, and few of those plans ever went as desired.

"No need to apologize, Commander, the station is a hectic environment and we had..." She paused, a most demure little smile curling across her lips as she corrected herself mentally, "have, pressing issues we needed to attend to. You found ways to accommodate and that's all I could ask for." Rochelle was in careful motion, pouring cups of the hot amber beverage. "It's all about give and take, is it not?"

"Indeed." He returned the smile, though it felt somewhat unnatural, sitting on his lips like this. And the very fact that he wasn't smiling as often as he usually did was also telling in a way. "Well, we have resumed business as usual, leaving only the loose threads of this recent altercation to be wrapped up. However, and I'm sure you are familiar with this, I have the feeling this isn't over yet…" It was the feeling of a subtle wrongness, nothing he could point a finger at and say 'There! There it is!', just that hint of foreboding. Maybe it was his own mind still reeling from the brutality of the attack, and by the stars he hoped it was all there was. But he was afraid it was more like his gut responding to subliminal signals, telling him not all was well aboard the station yet, that there was more to come.

The Commodore looked over at him, transporting his cup of tea on its saucer with a grace that spoke volumes about he level of comfort with the scalding beverage, "You're right, I'm all too familiar with that feeling." She answered, offering him the cup she carried, "However," A shrug punctuated her thoughts as she spoke, "Unless the Intel is there to help you stop it, you can't let it consume you or alter the status quo when it comes to daily operations."

Richelle was in motion again, retrieving her own tea and taking up residence in her usual spot, "The moment you forget that, or if you give in to it, you're allowing them to beat you."

He took a sip of his tea, relishing the warmth of the delicate cup cradled between his hands. "Whoever 'they' are," he muttered. "That is, if there's even a 'they'." He looked up and waved one hand vaguely as he tried to dispel his thoughts. "That's the danger, over guessing myself. Thus far, there's nothing concrete that indicates that this is not an isolated incident." He smiled. "So, how have you been faring recently? I hope your travels to the Stenellian Ascendancy were prosperous?"

"Mm," she hummed as she swallowed a sip, "There's an old adage that says just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you. Something to live by, sort of like prepare for the worst and hope for the best." Her cup soon made its way back on its saucer with a gentle 'clink' of porcelain against porcelain, and once more Rochelle readied herself for conversation, keeping a knowledgeable eye on the man in front of her. Rumors ran rife and wild as dandelions when it came to his involvement with the Stenellian Empress, and while the Commodore was often the subject of so many falsehoods and unintelligible fantasy fodder, there was still enough evidence to support these particular claims for her to defend watching him and his reactions, "They were." She answered at first, "The Empress and her emissaries were interesting people to watch work, and that's putting it mildly. They pull one way, she pulls another. Even getting her to agree to listing the Emperor as deceased was difficult... She wants peace, though, so at least there's that."

The man in front of her was hard to read, more or less in spite of his vivacious face. Emotions flew over it like a breeze ruffling a clear lake, first the earnest and somewhat worried expression regarding the earlier subject, then relaxing, even smiling, at the mental image of a tug-of-war between the diminutive Empress and the emissaries. Then growing more serious again as Rochelle mentioned the late Emperor. "I'm sure that was hard on her. Nobody wants to give up on a loved one, when there's a shred of hope left." His grave, sea-coloured eyes were fixed on her. He took another sip of his tea, breaking the contact, and his smile returned again. "But wanting peace is good. I love peace. I wish more people would."

Mon, 28 Oct 2019 21:21:21 +0000
Cmdr. Evan Merlin | A Cry for Help
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD 241910.28


It didn't happen often that he actually craved sleep. In fact, for a humanoid he slept remarkably little, and often when he did he felt a bit drowsy at most. But now he felt tired. More than tired. Exhausted was probably a better description.
He walked through the corridors of the station, deserted at this time of night. What was closer, his office or his quarters? His quarters, he decided at last, and found that he had stopped when he pondered the question. He was leaning against one of the bulkheads. On impulse, he placed both hands against it and closed his eyes.

It was

as if the whole weight

of the station

came crashing down on him

and all his filters and shields just disappeared.

A multitude of voices, fragments, some familiar, some not: "…the quality of this gagh is disgusting. I don't see how we can possibly serve this…" "Spectal analysis of the star would indicate that…" "…was so scared last night, I couldn't even *breathe*" "Explore the arboretum, maybe have a little swim?" "… The station shouldn't have to live in fear."

With a gasp, he wrenched his hands free from the bulkhead and staggered back, to the middle of the corridor. This, he realised after taking a few ragged breaths, was one of the corridors which boarded the outside of the station – in fact, it was one of the few which had actual windows placed where people could watch outside. Was that important? Maybe.

But for that one moment, the station itself had felt alive, and that last phrase still echoed through his mind: "The station shouldn't have to live in fear." Whoever had said it (and he had the feeling that if he could concentrate one moment longer he'd know who it was) hadn't meant it literally, of course. But right now, it seemed, it felt as if it was, as if the station itself was alive, found one voice and a means to reach out to him.

Why him? Well, of all the questions that was the easiest one. Wasn't he, when all was said and done, the station's CO? Yes, Sector Command was stationed here, and the Admiral who lead it, and Commodores were seen here regularly. But he was the station's commander, the one ultimately responsible for her safety and for the safety for everyone who lived here.
And the station was afraid.

He took another deep breath, released it slowly, ran one hand through his wild hair. Then he deliberately stepped forward again and placed his hands in the same spot. He closed his eyes.

There it was again. Not as strong as it had been the first time, and the cacaphony of voices were now softer than a whisper. The station had talked to him before, now she was listening.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he whispered. "I wish I could promise you it'll be alright, but I can't. There's something rotten here and I don't know what it is. And until I do, I can only react, not kiss and make it better. But I'll try. You know I will." There seemed to be a sigh, from very very far away. "You know I care for you," he continued. "And if anyone wants to harm you or anyone who lives here, they'll have to come through me. And that is something I can promise."

Another sigh, even fainter than the first, and then the presence left him… but not completely. He knew he'd always be aware of it, just like he was aware of the sounds of the station, tiny sounds like the hum of machinery and electricity which felt like heartbeats to him.

He gave the bulkhead a few gentle pats before he started walking again. Strangely, he felt a lot calmer now, though still incredibly tired.

There was another sound, one he heard with his actual ears, not with some inner ear planted deep inside his mind. He stopped again, turned around to locate the source. It seemed to come from ahead, and down… A few more steps lead to the entrance to one of the station's smaller tubes, and when he opened it, a tiny black ball of fluff leaped out towards him. Reflectively, he caught it. It snuggled against him and began to purr.

With one hand he cradled the little creature against his chest, the other one he used to close the entrance again. Then he lifted the purring creature up. "This better not be a tribble," he muttered.

A soft mew of protest when it was lifted from its warm spot to be scrutinised, then the purring continued. Bright green eyes looked into his own. No, it wasn't a tribble. It was a kitten, black but for a white spot on its chest and (he saw later) a second one on its belly. "Where did you come from, little one?" The words ended in a yawn. "Never mind that," he added when he could speak again. "I'll give you some food and water and we'll see if we can find your owner tomorrow, okay?"

The kitten snuggled back against him and purred even louder.

In his quarters he placed a pillow on the ground for the kitten, replicated some cat food and water in a bowl, then staggered to his bed. He was asleep before he'd even properly hit the pillow.

Five minutes later, the kitten jumped on the bed and settled in himself. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, still purring.
Mon, 28 Oct 2019 21:13:46 +0000
A Most Peculiar Body, Pt. 2
Mission - Dust Stirring
Location - Chief Medical Officer's Office | Cold Station Theta
Timeline - SD 241910.27

"Please." The look on his face could have curdled milk. Or perhaps it was the look one acquired when they were looking at curdled milk. "What a truly horrific way to die. If I'd seen him, I might've thought his sanity was questionable. I can't imagine anyone in sight want to remain in sight for very long. If there was anyone there to begin with other than himself. Thanks," he added as he took the drink from her. "Any thoughts on what the toxin was? Or how it was delivered? That might give security - well, intelligence too - some sort of clue."

"The makeup is not unlike an old Terran toxin called parathion. Could have been done in any number of ways," She sighed as she slid into her seat, "Inhalant, injection, absorption through the skin." The prattling was only ceased when she took a bite of her food. Chicken salad was quickly becoming a favorite, especially when it had cranberries and blue cheese tossed into the mix. She was about to take bite two when she noticed her partner's expression, "Everything alright?"

"Hm? Oh." The look smoothed into something more like him, as he made a thoughtful sound and shook his head, picking up the fork as he did so. "Sorry. I was just thinking of how bad it was. Not that I have much sympathy for him to begin with. Still ... bad way to go. Not that there's a pleasant way to die." He fell into silence after this, the sound of the fork stabbing through his lettuce, spearing some chicken and a crouton with a notable crunch in the process.

One of the wee Vorta's eyebrows rose as she considered both him and the statement he had made, "That's not entirely true," She tutted with a grin, "I've always considered slipping away in your sleep to be one of the best ways to go. No pain, but you're right. This guy didn't die easy and the stabbing... Not sure what happened there other than someone was drunk and saw him as a threat or a challenge and one thing lead to another."

He made a thoughtful sound as he chewed another bite of mixed chicken, crouton, and lettuce. The scene of the crime had been messy and complicated; the rumor mill suggested security was pitching fits over the sheer volume of forensic data to be processed, sorted, and analyzed. He personally put little stock in rumors, but in this case would not have been surprised to find that true. Which led him to wonder just required a stabbing and a poisoning. "It's a bit overkill. Any way to tell which happened first?" he inquired, an eyebrow raising in query. His tone suggested he would not be disappointed if she couldn't answer. It was a question that someone not skilled in this line of analysis would ask.

"Yes," She nodded, drawing a finger around the mouth of her glass, "There's evidence that his heart had stopped beating when he was stabbed. Maybe a minute or two before, but it had." Now it was her turn for her brows to furrow. In the heat - if one could consider it such - of an autopsy one rarely slowed down to think of just how brutal the death had been or how the body on that table had been battered. There was only simple fact: someone was dead, followed by another fact: she needed to know how it happened. Each bled seamlessly into the other and then came a signature after some notes and the case was sent back to those investigating or the family was notified, sometimes both. Sitting there with him and actually discussing it made it more real and, in a way, more personal. "If I had to guess he was on top of someone, probably fell and took them down... Trajectory of the blade would suggest that as well. So whoever stabbed him really may have thought it was do or die, kill or be killed and we're not exactly dealing with two easy going species to begin with."

He paused long enough to wipe the corners of his mouth, removing traces of the sparse dressing before they could trickle down into his beard. The action also gave the man time to think. "It wouldn't be the first time someone panicked during a ... killing gone bad." He hesitated to apply the word 'assassination,' because there was no evidence point that way. Unless you include the toxin. But how many times have you heard of botched jobs involving toxin? Not many, but then again he hadn't made a professional career out of searching law enforcement databases. There's time for that to change, though...

"I assume all the details about the knife are in here?" he asked, holding the PADD - the one she'd left behind - up with one hand, giving it a slight back-and-forth wave. "Anything I should be particularly aware of?"

"Hysteria happens." She shrugged, tucking back into her salad, "The knife was standard fare for a Klingon, nothing special. Probably a good couple thousand of them wandering around this station." The answer was flippant, almost dismissive until her head cocked to one side and she finished yet another bite, "Except the one you're looking for will be missing the very tip of it. It broke off between the victim's fifth and sixth thoracic vertebrae."

A prickling sensation ran down his spine after her words. Was it the cavalier way in which she'd discussed how the tip was missing? Yes, he concluded. In his experience there were very few in this world who would discuss circumstances involving a murder in such a cavalier way. Mostly they were doctors and medical staff, combat veterans, and killers. One category sometimes involved multiple categories. Sometimes one stood by itself without support from the other two. He knew she wasn't a combat veteran - he'd seen the way she high-tailed, months ago, when the archaeological site came under fire. A killer? No way said his mind and gut, immediately rejecting it. So, a doctor. Exactly what he knew to already be true.

Which still didn't get rid of that prickling sensation. Almost as if he could feel the blade punching into his back. He put his fork down for a moment, while suppressing the urge to get up and walk around until the feeling was gone. Hands settled on the thighs of his pants, rubbing them while he thought. "That's not going to be the sort of item you replace or repair easily. Especially not on a Federation starbase."

"The best they could hope for is to trash it in a replicator." A wary eye watched the unflappable man become, in a word, squeamish. She could see his discomfort as much as she could sense it in the way his posture and demeanor shifted - something that left her with a measure of guilt over her own truly devil-may-care approach to such things. There was no emotion to be found within her for the victim, nor a tear to be shed. She simply didn't know them and her work was her work. Science was very much free of emotion and when it came down to an autopsy it was less about medicine - which was certainly driven as much by emotion as it was by science - and more about the raw science needed to connect the dots. Either way, she wound up remorseful for ruining the Ghost's lunch, "I'm sorry. Should have saved this for another time, but it's important and I want you to have the pieces you need to put the puzzle together. The station shouldn't have to live in fear."

An eyebrow came up, at this, and the fork-ful of lettuce and chicken reversed course to return to his plate. "I would hardly call this a state of 'living in fear.' The resident population is over twenty-six thousand, and out of that one Nausicaan has been killed. Admittedly under unusual circumstances and with something that does pose a threat if used against a larger population center. For now we have no evidence that whomever possesses it intends such use. This isn't to say that we don't have a slight matter of concern, but living in fear?" The tone of his words made clear his skepticism at the hyperbole, as did the head-shake. "If more bodies start accumulating, I'll reevaluate my thoughts, but for now we have a single murder to deal with."

It was her turn to hike a brow and she came bitterly close to missing the chance to bite her tongue before she replied with a haughty 'You're out of touch'. Playing verbal hockey with him wouldn't solve a damn thing, much less a murder. "You have a man who was poisoned, if that gets out there will be a fair deal greater people demanding information and rioting on the promenade." She shrugged, "As it is, there are members of your crew that don't see it fit or wise to venture out into public spaces and people most definitely are looking over their shoulders, but you're right. It's one murder... After how many assaults on the station within the last two years?" Her fork sunk back into her salad as she abandoned her need to look at him. Her point was made, but it was evident as hell that she wasn't the one in Command - and never would be. "Anyway. Thank you for coming down for lunch."

There was a decidedly-long period of silence from his side of the desk. He was still there of course: the blur of color in the corner of her eye showed he was still present and seated. The sound of his breathing was audible as well. But for the first time since they had met, the man appeared to be either at a genuine loss for words or professional riled and stomping on it appropriately. Which was a remarkable thing for a Marine to do in the present era, and given present circumstances. Finally he heaved a larger exhalation of breath and stood, the chair creaking as he relieved it of its burden. "It was my pleasure. I'll see myself out."

The door hissed open, then closed, as he left the office.

=/\= End Log =/\=

Commander Valeese
Chief Medical Officer
Cold Station Theta, SB - 1170

Lt Commander James Stacker
Executive Officer/Chief Intelligence Officer
Cold Station Theta, SB - 1170]]>
Sun, 27 Oct 2019 19:12:59 +0000