Nothing Like The Smell Of Mothballs

This section of the mission features the following NPCs:
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.: U.S.S. Constitution | VIP Quarters :.

If there was one thing someone could say about ole Minerva Cutsforth; Lady Cutsforth rather, it would be that she'd been a model of old British aristocracy. A throwback. Minerva, in addition to being a straight backed, no nonsense British lady was also a creature of habit. She rose promptly at 0530 every morning to walk her dog. She took breakfast at 0730, and transported to the main hun in Boston no later than 0815. She was in her office by 0900. And always, she was in her drawing room for tea at 1600. It was a schedule she'd adhered to like scripture for longer than most people could remember.

It was quite difficult however, to adhere to that schedule on a starship. Especially a starship filled with news reporters, tourists, and a crew of fifteen of the most unprofessional officers she'd ever laid eyes upon. Not one of them were above the age of twenty four, nor held a rank higher than lieutenant. In fact, only one of them wore the two solid pips, and she wasn't even the oldest of the bunch. Minerva held the woman in low regard. Many times over the course of the past month's journey the old curator had found herself wishing she was back on Newbury avenue, sitting in her high back chair and overlooking the park. The woman in question, a Lieutenant Shen F'Sliacco, was the loudest and most unpredictable female Minerva had seen in ages. She was unrefined, loud, and most annoyingly of all, she was constantly in a good mood. Unusual behavior for an Andorian, and undesirable conduct for the Commander of a vessel steeped in tradition such as the Constitution.

But Minerva tried mightily to endure the young woman's brazen disregard foe not only the rules and regulations set forth by the museum authority, but also her own mandates about noise and after hours activities. She'd chalked numerous offenses up to age and upbringing. And once she heard that a proper commander would be installed for the starship race at Megiddo Colony, she found renewed patience for the young officer. After all, she was being reassigned when the ship docked at Megiddo, and the commanding officer of the U.S.S. Hawking would be taking command for the race. And starfleet had thus informed her that Hawking's commander was a veteran commander, having once commanded a battleship. He must be a formidable man she'd thought. And disciplined.

Her tea having long gone cold, Minerva stared intently at the small screen before her. Her piercing green eyes danced across the screen as she read, her hand folded neatly on the desktop in front of her. Minerva had always, since she could remember, been mindful of proper manners and paid strict attention to image.

The man in front of her obviously did not.

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His untidy locks and youthful features threw up several red flags. Barely nineteen years old, surely this could not be a veteran commander. This boy on the screen could not be the veteran commander starfleet had informed her of. Perhaps, she thought, she'd entered the wrong name… or the wrong Identification number. She tried the surename alone, and came up with another file.

But alas, reading the logs of the second captain Benjamin held many mentions of his son Nathan. Captain Nathan Benjamin of the U.S.S. Hawking. Youngest captain in Starfleet. And the boy's logs lent her little hope that he'd be an improvement on the blue skinned thorn lodged in her side now. This being the case, she was still somewhat eager to meet him. And since she was would be spending more than a week in the lad's company, she was sure he'd have some interesting tales to tell her about his travels in the gamma quadrant. That was of course if he wasn't partying it up in the Officer's mess with the other children on board.

Glancing down at the chrono on her desk, Minerva saw that it was well past 2100 hours. Normally she'd be in bed by this time, but work had consumed a great deal more time lately and today was no exception. Stifling a yawn, the silver haired woman decided that whatever other work she had could wait til morning though. They were still a whole two days from Jericho Samaria, where they'd pick up the Hawking's crew. That was two more days for her to read their bios and learn all she could about the men and women who would be crewing her museum in the coming days. But if their captain was any indication, those next ten days didn't look inviting for the rigid old curator.

Post featuring NPC Minerva Cutsforth - Constitution Curator
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Originally Posted 4/3/08 by Nathan Benjamin


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A sullen Bajoran rested his head against old style transparent aluminum and watched space scroll by at low warp. His uniform was standard Starfleet issue in spite of his current off duty status. Knowing the uniform style that awaited him made him feel somehow attached to this one. Playing dress up for a race that he couldn’t really find any good reason for bordered on insanity. The state of the transport did little to improve his mood.

Smells of roasting meet and pungent spices wafted up from lower decks. The Karemman’s trade industry demonstrated abounding diversity. The most ironic cargo on board were the almost fifty crewmembers of USS Hawking, hitching a ride back to the Megiddo system. That ride had been bumpy, cramped, and uncomfortable thus far.

Nils made a mental note to be more specific with T’Landra. Evidently comfort was not a logical criterion for travel. The Vulcan had arranged the most immediate transport available instead of the most appropriate. The still-adjusting First Officer shook his head at his own lack of foresight. This was something he should have seen coming. Fortunately, only two days of travel stretched out before them.

Though their next “ride” didn’t promise to be much better. One hundred years old and revamped into a museum, the Constitution would have few of the amenities of home… if any. Nils had learned the vessels in this class were some of the Federation's first deep space explorers, and were loaded out for that and almost nothing else. They were nothing like the floating cities of his career.

History had been of little interest to Nils during the Academy. He’d taken the obligatory courses, which amounted to a semester on the Federations formation and a semester on early deep space missions. That had been enough. He didn’t dislike the history. In fact, it evoked a sense of covetousness in his heart. Reading about the discoveries of others paled in comparison to setting out and making one’s own.

Still, operating one of the ships that “built the Federation” promised to be interesting if nothing else.

”If only we didn’t have to wear those damned uniforms…” thought Nils, turning his attention back to the bleakness of space.
Originally Posted 4/4/08 by Torrik Nils


:: Passed out on one of the transport decks ::

Her eyes opened to a dim light across the room, causing her to jerk upright on her elbows and look around. Her head was pounding and she suddenly deeply regret all those nights of drinking with Doctor Ayre. It took her less than a few seconds to remember where she was. Four men sat on rough burlap feed sacks, playing cards by the light of a dying bulb.

“Well, well, well,” a voice next to her sang, “What have we here?”

Jillian sat up straight, “I’m sorry to be in your way. I must have fallen asleep on the wrong floor. I was just leaving.”

The men sat perfectly still, staring at her over the top of fanned cards. The one whose voice she had heard, stood up and offered a hand, "Didn't mean to scary you, Lady. We're just but four lonely men looking for a little entertainment." He was a hulking brute with a thick beard. His clothes were filthy and the edges of his clothes looked like someone had taken bites out of it. Jillian scrambled to her feet and stumbled backwards, only to find that there was nowhere to go. She twisted her head around and looked for a way to escape. When she turned back, the man was right at her face, his breath stinking of alcohol, "You wandered into the wrong part of the ship, pretty. We let you sleep here…I'd say you owe us."

"Back off, Clem. If her Captain finds out…" says an older man with a jug in his hand, "…just don't be doin' nothing rash now."

Clem spits on the ground, "Wasn't planning on being rash," says Clem, while reaching for Jillian's collar. She swats his arm way. He reaches with his other hand and she takes another swing to stop him. The bones in their forearms meet with a crack.

"Tame down, woman", cackles the old man, "Don't go messin' with Clem."

"It seems to me maybe Clem's messing with me," Jillian shouted, blocking another grab.

Clem lunges forward, causing Jillian to fall back onto a roll of blankets, and before her head even hits she's yanked forward again.

"Clem," barks the old man,"Clem! Let her go. Let her go, I tell ya."

Clem holds Jillian's arm up toward the nape of her neck and gives her a hair a soft sniff.

"Clem, I'm tellin' ya!" shouts the old man, "We don't need no trouble. You see that uniform? She's gunna get us in trouble!"

Clem gives her one last stare before releasing her. He pivots and tosses her across the rolls of blankets. She quickly scrambles to collect her things and runs down the hallway, followed by the howls of four drunk men.
Originally Posted 4/4/08 by Jillian Munro


Karemman Transport Barithar

Turning over on the lumpy bunk (top of three) which Jen had claimed upon arrival, she made yet another attempt to read the page of the book she’d hauled along for the ride to Megiddo station. Not that she wanted to be going to Meggido station. In fact it had taken all her self-control, along with some borrowed from Darbs, to not whine ‘why me?’ at Lieutenant Tenanji when he’d read out the list of crew he’d be taking on this little side trip from hell.

She hadn’t whined but she had, later, attempted to change his mind on her disposition.

"There must be more experienced crew you’d prefer for something this high profile,” Anderson had been in top form, spit-and-polish and cool as a really cool thing. “There will probably be quite a lot of news coverage and, well, I don’t know that I look all that…”

“If you are worried about your intimidation factor, Crewman,” Tenanji had interrupted, looking up from the desk he’d only recently allowed himself to claim, “have no fears. Chief Petty Officer Jameson makes up for any perceived lack on your part.”

“But, Sir…”

“Perhaps this reluctance comes not from some, up to now unseen shyness but, rather, a desire to remain in the vicinity of the Outpost, itself?” The lieutenant looked back to his desktop terminal, turned away from Jenny’s view. “Or, more to the point, in the vicinity of certain inhabitants of the Outpost…?”

Jenny said nothing as she found herself staring at the empty wall over his shoulder.

He tapped the desk twice with his right hand before continuing, “You had, I noticed, applied for the next round of shore leave…”

Her eyes had darted to his, quickly, before returning to their blank study.

Tenanji leaned back, “He would not thank you for your interest and he would most certainly not thank me for allowing you to place yourself in such a precarious position.”

Jenny frowned, looked back at her superior, “Sir, are you saying you’ve put me on your team because you’re afraid of what Harry would say?”

“I have never been concerned about what… Harry… might say. It may be that I share his concerns for the crew’s safety. Beyond that, I have chosen the team I feel best suited to this particular… endeavor.”

Jenny actually found herself staring at that, “Are you sure about that… I mean, I… well, Rak’h and Koll, are… well…”

“Better where I can keep an eye on them,” was the semi-amused response. “Now, if that will be all, Crewman, I believe we all have a great deal of preparation before we depart.”

Okay, no way was she going to play the ‘I had a fight with the Captain’ card. Defeated, she shook her head, “No Sir, thank you for taking the time.” She turned to go, “But, Sir?”

He was already buried in his reading again, “Yes?”

“About those uniforms?”

“Out of my hands, Anderson.”

“Right. Well, thanks anyway…”

Slamming the copy of “Farewell My Lovely” (a gift from Harry, back in the day) back onto the mattress, Jen stared at the oh-so-close ceiling. Then she turned on her other side to face the dividing sheet which separated the X’s from the Y’s, so to speak. Bramley, after T’Landra had insisted on erecting the barrier, had named it the Wall of Jericho to the bemusement of the assembled crowd of Hawkingites. On the other side of the wall she could hear his voice and that was just one annoyance more than she could take.

She checked her chrono… close enough to her start of shift. She slid off the bunk and out the door on the X side of the room, meaning to report to Jameson and see if he had anything going. Not that any of them had had much to do on the transport. Stand around and watch the other passengers milling around the Hawking’s berth but still, better than listening to Nate giving orders or Nate laughing at some dumbass joke or…

=/\=This is …orrik… Secur…questing… assistan… re…t… Hawking Sec… to deck 4…=/\=

Jenny was racing through the cargo-strewn corridor before the static-ridden transmission had cut out, tapping her own badge and reaching for a sidearm that had been checked on boarding shitshitshit, =/\=This is Anderson to all Hawking Security, we have a situation on deck 4, a call from Lieutenant Torrik… please respond…=/\=
Originally Posted 4/4/08 by Harry Finn


Thrumming warp engines vibrated the walls and windows around Nils. His eyelids dipped slowly over his tired eyes, and then drew open just as slowly. The pulsing rhythm of deck plating lulled him from his melancholy thoughts and down into a drooping doze. All of that shattered as the door to his cabin burst open violently, then slammed shut as grating metal smashed into grating metal.

"What the…" the Bajoran cried jumping to his feet. He found himself staring back of Jillian Munro's head. She was breathing heavily and leaning against the door apparently trying to hold it closed.

Knowing that her weight was not enough to brace the door, she turned around in search for something heavier. She let out a shrieking yelp when her eyes focused in on a shadow in the corner.

"Jillian," Nils said straightening his uniform. "What are you… I didn't think I'd see you until we docked…" Despite her disheveled appearance, he still found her beautiful. And the melancholy he'd been experiencing moments before began fading. Hope took its place. "Actually I'm glad you're here… I've been thinking…"

"NILS!" Not letting him finish his sentence, she lunged into his arms, "I've never been so happy to see you!" Before he even had a chance to process what was going on, she pushed herself off of him and began looking around the room, "Quick! We need to find something to block the door."

"Block the door?" The confused Bajoran looked from the door to the scampering Doctor. She seemed frantic to find something with which they could bar the door. "What's wrong? What are you doing? Who's coming in?"

"Four men. Four really big men. Well…three really, the fourth one is older." She said quickly while rummaging around the room.

Still unable to fully comprehend what was going on Nils turned around, following Jillian as she tramped through the small passenger compartment. "Why do they want to come in here? And where have you been lately? I heard you and Doctor…" He let his words trail off and one of the primary sources of his angst went unsaid. "Just tell me what's going on," he cried out in frustration. He grabbed her by the shoulders as she tried to pass by.

She took a deep breath, it was still difficult to look him in the eyes, "Nils…I…I may have had a little but to much to drink last night. I must have passed out on the wrong floor. Next thing I know I've woken up next to four very dirty men…they talked about me being "entertainment" and one of them tried to pin me down….And about Doctor Ayre…" Her voice began to trail off.

"Doctor Ayre…" Nils repeated in a sour tone latching onto the bane that first caught his ear. "PIN YOU DOWN," followed shortly when he let himself hear the real threat.

The compartment door swung open wildly, and was immediately filled with large and intimidating men. They smelled of urine and livestock.

"I've got to start carrying a phaser," Nils said under his breath. "Gentlemen these are private quarters," he said sternly, drawing himself to his full six feet and one inch height. The men stalked closer ignoring him. In fact, their eyes were squarely on their prize. Casting a sideways glance at Jillian, Nils threw his shoulder in front of her and lowered his chin. "Back off," he seethed as fury colored everything red.

The men clearly didn't see Nils as a threat and continued their approach. Nils stepped back, pressuring Jillian to move back as he did so. The tiny cabin was no more than eight paces across and there was no room to maneuver before they were back to back with the window.

"This is Torrik Nils to Security. Requesting immediate assistance. Repeat, Hawking Security to deck four," the first officer said punching his combadge. Growing up in a Labor Camp had taught him to accurately gauge when a fight was hopeless, and this was a no brainer. Although he could take a beating, Nils was no fighter. If it came to blows he knew he'd be slaughtered. That he could take, but thoughts of what could happen to Jillian after he fell brought him to the verge of insanity. Fight smart, echoed in his head.

"I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement," Nils began again trying to appear agreeable. He spread a false smile on his face and opened his arms in welcome. "If it's the woman you want, I'd be willing to give you a couple of hours… For a price…" Suddenly the men were interested.

"Yeah?" said the largest up front.

Jillian looked up at Nils with disbelief, "What the hell are you talking about, Lieutenant?" She hissed. Was he bluffing? Or maybe he really was mad about Dr. Ayre.

"Shut up, bitch," said the large man. "How much? We've got tech and latinum for trade…"

"Yes… bitch… shut up," Nils said out of the corner of his mouth. He tried to sound natural, but he was no thespian. Far from it. "She'll be worth the price I promise, gentlemen." Nils took a step forward gauging the men's height and calculating the distance of the rafters overhead. He could generate a significant amount of force and if applied at the appropriate vector, the men may fall over themselves allowing a passage for escape. "I've had this woman and I can guarantee her…"

The Bajoran leapt into the air and grabbed hold of the rafters above. Swinging forward and kicking with both feet he connected with the man in front. But that is where his plan fell apart. He'd terribly underestimated their density, and instead of kicking them backwards he launched himself over Jillian's head and collided with the viewport behind her. The stun knocked him momentarily dizzy.

With Nils down, the biggest of the men turned his attention back to Jillian. He snatched a jug from his friend and tipped it up to his lips, "You've been a bad bad girl." He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and pulled the doctor towards him. It took Jillian all of her might not to resist, Just a little closer , she thought to herself. As his chapped lips pressed against hers, she reached up, pretending to wrap her arms around his neck. Instead she used her thumbs to jab his eyeballs. As he screamed out in pain, she used the opportunity to deliver a hefty kick right at his baby maker.

A Joint Post by Jillian Munro and Torrik Nils on 4/4/08


Jenny, hitting deck four at a good clip made for the sound of a man's agonized screams; hoping to hell it wasn't the new XO she dashed into the open door of a private cabin without waiting for the hope of backup and made a moving threat assess… if it wasn't one of hers, it was a threat. One down on the ground, along with, damn, Lieutenant Torrik, and three standing, looming, more like, over Dr. Munro. After a swift knee break to the rearmost, who dropped like a stone clutching his leg, it was two looming and now their attention was divided between the two women.

Don't stop don't stop don't stop, the behemoth closest started to make a grab but Jen ducked beneath the reaching paws and administered a quick gut kick in passing to the third, "Cover him!" she yelled at whomever would listen and leaped onto the back of the last hairy monster, who was about to grab the doctor. Wrapping one arm around his larynx, she held on for dear life, pressing and waiting and hoping someone was keeping an eye on that second guy.

"Cover who," Nils groaned forcing himself up on his feet. The deck quaked beneath him as he shoved away the dizziness. His question went unanswered so he lunged haphazardly at any of the remaining "bullies" he could get his eyes on. Colliding midsection with the burlyl figure, the two men crumbled to the floor. Fortunately, the scientist posing as a boxer found himself on top and began wailing on the malodorous man's face. Something about the whole thing felt absurd, but he didn't let up. Blow after blow fell until his fists felt numb.

"Arrrrgh…" bellowed the man on bottom, as he shoved the tiny Bajoran off his chest. "No more…" he yelled and connected his sausage like fist with Nils nose. Stars and fireworks filled the young lieutenant's vision, but he went with the punch. It was no worse than what a Cardassian could deal out to a young teen. Taking the pummelling he went back in and once again the two men went to the floor.

Her man finally having succumbed to lack of oxygen, Jenny began to climb off the unconscious hulk and looked to where her superior was… uh oh, "Sir!… Sir, he's down…" No go. She looked to the doctor for help, "Commander!"

Jillian continued to stare down at the man she loved, as he pounded the man beneath him. "Commander!" yelled Jenny. Jillian shook herself out of shock and hurried over towards the two men. She wrapped her arms around Nils' chest and pulled him off of the blood covered brute, "Nils! Stop….stop…"

Heaving one final punch, Nils rolled off the disgusting brute of a man. In the process he tore himself from Jillian's grasp. Using his sleeve to wipe the blood pouring from his nose (and maybe a cut at the eye - he couldn't tell), he rose to his feet. He momentarily grieved the loss of another pristine uniform. Blood rarely ever washed out.

"Crewman, report," the quiet but firm order pulled Jenny the rest of the way to her feet as Lieutenant Tenanji, framed by Jameson on one side and a wide-eyed Darby Saunders on the other, stood in the doorway, looking over the mass of fallen humanity before pinning Anderson with his gaze.

"Ahhh…"

Jillian stood up, she gave Jenny a pat on the back and stepped forward, "Lieutenant Torrik and I called for backup. We were attacked by these four men." She looked over at Jenny, "In fact, if Jenny hadn't shown up when she did, I'm not sure what would have happened."

"Very well," Tenanji was quite sure there was more to the story but, given the state of the XO and Dr. Munro, herself, he had no doubt that the intervention had been well-timed, "In future, however, I would hope that you would wait for some form of backup."

"Sir, yes sir," then Jenny slipped out of the room, waiting for the doctor, a very punch-drunk Torrik leaning on her shoulders, to join her, "I gotta say, you two really know how to seek out new life… and beat the crap out of it… um, sirs."

A Joint Post on 4/4/08 by Jillian Munro, Harry Finn (Jenny), and Torrik Nils 4/4/08


::Transport enroute to SS Megiddo::

"These technical specs are amazing!" Kowalski said from the middle bunk as he shifted the PADD he was reading from into his left hand. "Did you know that this ship has a horizontal oof!" Kal-El's body suddenly became airborne as the bunk heaved him upward then flopped back lifelessly so the engineer crashed down onto the dingy matress.

Snickering could be heard from the bunk beneath him.

"Pierce! That isn't funny..stop doing that!" Kal-El complained.

"Sorry Winston, I was rolling over but this sardine can is so tiny I guess my knees hit you," BHP explained.

"My name is not Winston," Kal-El said in exasperation.

"Really? You look like a Winston.."

The sound of the door grating open interrupted the two engineers. Fenton Boyce stepped into the room and made for the room's only chair which was really an over-turned solvent container. The cadet took a seat, looked at the two engineers then said, "Guys, I don't know if you noticed..but our accommodations leave a lot to be desired."

"And how." BHP said in agreement.

Fenton nodded then said, "I was just in what passes for 'the facilities' on this ship and I swear I could see something swimming around in the bowl. I couldn't be sure on the account of the water inside being a thick black soup.."

Kal-El began to make gagging noises.

"It's always that way; haven't you been yet?" BHP asked the engineer above him. He looked at the bottom of the matress supiciously. I did dream it was raining..aw nuts.

"No, I can hold it until we get to the station," Kal-El explained. "I don't like going anywhere but home."

Boyce peered up at the engineer in surprise. "But the station isn't your home? How long are you going to hold it? Weeks?" The sound of feet moving fast on the deck plates outside the door caught their attention. BHP slid out of his bunk in time to see a mob of five or six workers from the freighter's crew crowd around the open door.

"Hey Fellas, what's eating you?" Pierce asked, being the nearest to the door.

"You are no longer welcome here, you are guests but have worn out your welcome," one of the crewman told the three engineers.

"Starfleet ain't welcome here!!" someone in the back said and the others grunted in agreement or voiced their sympathies.

"Sorry to crash your party fellas but you're just beating your gums..we arranged for passage with the captain so take it up with him," BHP told the men as he crossed his arms and grinned at them.

"You get out NOW!" yelled a freighter crewperson that resembled an ogre.

The yell was followed by a punch, which was a mistake, for apparently Benjamin Hyde Pierce had learned more than how to clean his weapon in the marines, he had also learned how to not be where someone was throwing a punch. BHP had also learned how to use an opponent's momentum against them. Dodging the punch, he had caught the ogre's arm and wrist then pushed the attacker down to the floor.

Fenton Boyce dove across the room and landed right in the middle of the five crewman who were trying to get in the door. To his surprise, one of the crew was a woman! I can't hit a woman. he thought until she clocked him with a right that made his head spin. "Holy Mary!" Boyce yelled as he staggered then head-butted the woman crewman, dropping her to the deck.

"Bastards! Bashi-bazouks! Red-Assed Baboons!" Kal-El yelled as he leaped from the middle bunk onto the dogpile. The engineer brandished the PADD like a rolled up newspaper, swatting right and left with it. His pent-up emotions, held in since Ensign Obatu's death, came tearing out. "I will kill you all!" he raged. The mob faltered in the face of such an onslaught, then turned and ran but Kal-El followed them, shouting curses as he hunted them down.

"Cowards, Vagabonds, Visigoths, Troglodytes, Body-Snatchers, Australopithecans.." was growing fainter and fainter in the corridor as Kal-El got farther away. Boyce and Pierce were left in the room, alone, except for the woman Boyce had knocked out cold, but she was dozing quietly on the deckplates.

"Shit, we better go get him," BHP said, then activated his commlink. =^=Hawking crew, this is Crewman Pierce if you see Winston..I mean Kowalski please try and detain him..you'll probably hear him before you see him, thanks.=^= Pierce said as he and Fenton ran after the enraged Kowalski.
Originally Posted 4/4/08 by Javier Costala


:: Karemman Transport Barithar ::
:: Storage Cell ::

“I’m no medic, sir,” T’Landra said, with her excruciating gaze.

“I don’t need a medic,” Nils said through clenched teeth. The brawl between the respective crews had left him with split skin over the eye, a bloody lip, and a dried trail of blood from his nose. “Just hand me the dermal regenerator.”

The lieutenant sat on a bulging sack of what he assumed was powdered cleanser. The state of the small cell suggested the cleanser had never been used. The very small room was cramped with the two of them. Various utilities hanging on the wall and propped on boxes didn't help the matter.

“I question the intelligence of treating your own injuries regardless of their severity, Lieutenant. Dr. Munro…”

“Drop it, Petty Officer,” the Bajoran grumbled. It was clear Vulcans didn’t count feelings of superiority as emotion. Terribly unfair in Nils’ estimation, especially considering his yeoman had just called him stupid in Vulcanese.

“Yes sir,” she acquiesced without a hint of acquiescence in her voice. Accepting the exercise in futility the Vulcan moved on. “Lt O’Keefe has been asking for you,” she picked up with an ‘in other news’ tone. “She would like to discuss duty stations and shift rotations for the race.”

“I’ll get to her,” Nils lied. He fully intended to get back to his cabin and lock himself in until they arrived at the station. Feeling utterly humiliated by the fight, he had no wish other than to hide out and let the memory fade. Plus his brush with Jillian had been everything he hoped it wouldn’t. Clearly she’d found someone else to confide in… He couldn’t put the fact that Jillian had been drinking with Dr. Ayre out of his head.

“I will tell her as much,” T’Landra answered with a hint of warning. Her eyes seemed to say, don’t make a liar out of me. She turned to leave. “Until then, I’d suggest a better hiding place than the broom closet. On a ship as dirty as this, surely someone will eventually grab a broom,” she commented without a hint of humor. Then she was gone.

“I’m not hiding,” Nils whispered holding the regenerator up to his brow. He regretted asking her to bring him the medical device. Anyone else would’ve been a better choice. Except Jillian, whom he couldn’t bring himself to face. Essentially they’d been rescued from bullies by a little girl. “What a great way to spend my first week as First Officer.”
Originally Posted 4/8/08 by Torrik Nils


Jillian stood in front of a filthy mirror. She leaned over the sink and filled her cupped hands with cold water, splashing it on her face. The coldness of it was a balm to her fevered skin. She hurt all over. She felt completely drained, and sad. The fight with those brutes couldn't of happened at a worse time or place. If anything, she had just pushed Nils even further away. Their relationship had become so strange. One minute he seemed to want, to need, space, distance, he seemed uninterested in her. The next he seemed annoyed, confused and even hurt about their separation. She couldn't read him. There was no way to define what he wanted or needed…it left her feeling helpless. And angry.

She splashed one more palm full of water on her face and stood up straight. She had to find him.

:: 20 minutes later ::

Jillian stood in front of a large metal door, securely locked from the inside. She took a deep breath and knocked firmly. After waiting a few moments, she knocked once more. Still nothing. By this time, her anger was gone. Concern was the only feeling that overwhelmed her being now.

Open…open the door. You’re scaring the crap out of me now. What if somethings happened to him….what if he's lost too much blood…

She figured that he wouldn’t answer his COMM badge, so it came as no surprise when she got nothing but dead air. She also figured that if she were standing in front of his door, pounding on it, that he would eventually answer it. Still no reply.

She rested her hand on the door and spoke softly, "Nils…it's me. Look…." She felt almost foolish, what if he wasn't even in there, "…I just want to thank you for helping me back there…If I hadn't found you…." Her voice trailed off, "…Nils? Are you in there? Can you open up the door so I can at least take a look at your wounds?"

She took one last deep breath, prayed, and then pushed again on the door. It opened.
Originally Posted 4/8/08 by Jillian Munro


Not fair…I finally find a purely positive aspect of the breakdown of emotional control and I immediately end up in a situation where I cannot take advantage of it. She had told herself that that thought process was unworthy of her and not conducive to peace of mind but it seemed to spring up unbidden anytime she came into close proximity with Javier. T'Shaini leaned against him as they looked out the viewport at the universe whizzing by…though no where near fast enough for the newly awakened Vulcan.

"Two more days."

Does the Horsehead Nebula really look like a horse's head? Javier thought as the stars zipped past the window. I wonder if there's a Horseass Nebula anywhere? The thought made him chuckle and in the humor he found himself thinking of Lia. The journey aboard the transport ship had been mostly uneventful for the engineer. He spent most of his time studying up on engine specs so he would be ready when they finally reached the Constitution. Javier had also spent a fair amount of time thinking about Lia and wondering if he had done the right thing in leaving her with the Ibrahims on the Hawking. It wasn't like I could have disobeyed a direct order..

T'Shaini's words drew him from his thoughts. "Yeah, two more days of smelling Kowalski's feet. Of listening to Cadet Boyce snore and trying to find a different reply for Pierce's infamous 'whaddaya say Chief?' greetings." He glanced around, making sure the corridors were clear then slipped his arms around her waist. "I really miss our quarters on the Hawking," Javier explained, "They were so…private."

"I had never considered privacy among the priorities of life…now however, like so many things that you do not know how much you value them until they are lost, I would rank it along with food and shelter." She smiled then leaned her head on his shoulder. "I suppose it is something to which we will become more accustomed to now that Lia has joined us."

He exhaled a sigh at the mention of Lia. I miss that little girl too much..I only just get her back and now I'm gone again, I hope she won't hate me for that. "At least here we have our window," Javier said as he indicated the viewport which they had met at nearly every day, sometimes twice a day or more, in order to have some private time away from the others. "And once we get home I don't think you'll need to worry, from what I can tell Lia sleeps as soundly as her daddy," he smiled then added, "in fact probably as much as her new mommy." He hugged T'Shaini tighter to emphasize his point.

T'Shaini felt her cheeks darken, still vaguely unused to anyone being so familiar with her personal habits…perhaps it would not be embarrassing if my personal habits were more dignified. "Regardless of her sleeping habits she is a welcome addition." Then sneaking a surreptitious look over her shoulder to see if the coast was clear, she brushed her lips gently across Javier's.

His hands came up and cupped her face as Javier inched his face closer to T'Shaini's and pressed his lips to hers. He felt his desire fire off like an inner rocket, launching itself into the cosmos. Javier pulled back slightly, afraid that if he lingered too long he wouldn't be able to stop himself from pressing T'Shaini against the viewport. His heart was pounding in his chest. "Scott's Ghost, I wish we had our own room.." he told her, his lips barely touching hers. The sound of boots on the deck caused his eyes to widen and Javier pulled back and pointed out the window.

"And if you look right there Counselor you can clearly see the Horseass Nebu..Horsehead Nebula, Horsehead, Horsehead Nebula," he explained, talking a little louder than necessary. BHP passed by them at a quick pace but was unable to wipe the grin off of his face in time.

T'Shaini had moved so close that her breath was beginning to fog the viewport in an attempt to add verisimilitude to Javier's ruse. Once the sound of footsteps had begun to fade she leaned in to trace his jawline with her mouth, as her lips once again covered his when the unmistakable whine of Darby Saunders caused her to break away.

"I don't understand why we have to patrol, its not like it is even our ship, I mean really, what good is it that Finn is gone (no offence Jenny) if Tenanji is just as tough?" Rounding the corner the two young women took in the scene in front of them.

"What are you guys doing here?"

Jenny, to her credit, smiled blandly at the pair by the window and taking Darby by the arm kept moving past them.

Waiting until the two security officers were out of sight, Javier pulled T'Shain back into an embrace and placed kisses along the edge of her ear. Following the outline of T'Shaini's ear to the tip, he then kissed along her cheek until his lips met hers once again. He had just begun to use the tip of his tongue to trace along her lips when the sound of someone running along the corridor could be heard. If that's Pierce..he's going to be scrubbing the outer pylons for the next week. the engineer thought before he broke away from T'Shaini once more.

"Chief..Ma'am," Cadet Boyce said quickly, acknowledging T'Shaini, "Chief, you better come take a look at this.."

"What is it now?" Javier asked in exasperation.

"It's Kal-El..they've elected him captain..of the ship!"

"What? Who's elected him captain? And of what ship..?" the Chief Engineer asked. There were so many things wrong with the statement that Kal-El had been elected a captain of a ship.

"This one, and the crew, apparently they were impressed with his ferocity in the altercation we had..they all voted and now he's the captain."

It took Javier a moment to find a suitable answer, such was his utter surprise at learning of Kal-El's political ascension. "Let's go talk to him." He turned to T'Shaini, "Counselor..any thoughts?"

*blinkblink* Well that was one for the archives, their surreal trip on this antiquated transport had just gotten that much odder.. "Should we go and speak with them?"

"Yes," he agreed, there wasn't much more he could say about the bizarre situation. "Carry on Cadet." The man nodded and took the lead, giving Javier time to reach down and squeeze T'Shaini's hand affectionately. He was grateful that she was going along to help mediate, even if it meant their 'window time' was over.

The counselor sighed lightly as they followed Boyce down the corridor…two more days.
Originally Posted 4/4/08 by T'Shaini and Javier Costala


:: Transport Barithar ::
:: Nils' Private Cabin ::

Nils flipped the dermal regenerator over and over in his fist watching its orbit around his fingers. Sitting on the couch which doubled on the bed which folded up into the cabin wall and transformed into the dining table, the moody First Officer contemplated how terribly wrong things had gone in the last two weeks. When he woke from death, everything seemed so clear. That clarity faded with time. And life continued throwing new and unwelcome bits of "the suck," as Harry Finn would say. That suck clouded his clarity and it was fading fast.

A clanking door and muffled voice drew his attention. He ignored it. Despite his choice to pretend it wasn't happening, the door swung open. Nils face flushed red when he saw who entered.

"Jillian," he said quietly, rising to his feet. "Ummm… Hi." Sputtering words he worked to avert his eyes. "I… Didn't… You didn't say you were…" He sighed and shrugged, then offered her a helpless grimace.

She couldn't help but smile, and once again, he was impossible to read. He had stormed off so suddenly that she figured he had been furious with her, "You ran off…" She took a few steps towards him and focused on the deep cut above his brow, "…you know, Nils, I didn't go to medical school so that my patients could mend themselves."

"What" he said momentarily confused. "Oh," he realized aloud pointing at the dermal regenerator in his hand. "Yeah well… T'Landra had one and she was passing by… I guess I was… I was bleeding so she let me borrow it." His head dropped and his brow fell low over his eyes. Lying had never been his strong suit. "Here," he said, offering it back to the Doctor. "I'm better." His free hand brushed the spot over his eye where the most serious of his brawl wounds had been.

There was an awkward pause. Jillian eyed an empty barrel and decided it was clean enough to use as a chair, "Nils, I'm not sure how to say this but…." She crossed her arms, "…well….I feel like I don't know how to act around you anymore. I'm not sure what…what "we" are anymore."

Nils was taken aback. "Jillian I feel the same way… But it was you who decided I needed space. When I woke from the accident…er…attack… You wouldn't even look at me. And then you went on about…" Nils began pacing. He let his voice rise and fall in passioned pitch in a rare show of vocal emotion. "You went on about how you were in my way and then you just… Jillian, you just left!" Still he paced, staring at his palms trying to work out exactly what was going on. "I don't have any idea what happened. And I haven't had any idea how to act around you."

She wanted to stand up and melt into his chest, but something wouldn't let her, and she couldn't explain it, "When you were asleep…" she began, "I had never been so sure in my life of what I wanted. I wanted to be with you!" She could feel her eyes heating up, straining to hold back tears, "But when you woke up…it was the strangest thing, something inside me told me that you needed space, time…room to grow," she added, "I know it sounds ridiculous and I hate what that decision has done to us."

The pacing Bajoran froze and gazed deeply into Jillian's eyes. "I hate it too," he said softly. He took a step closer to her, closing the gap between them. He didn't touch her, not yet, but he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. With his heart pounding in his chest like a trapped vole and his mouth drying up, he spoke, "My life has been a series of tragedies. One dark moment after the next has molded me into the person I am… But from the first moment we met, you've been the bright moment that makes me believe this life means something. Without you everything turns dark again… Jillian… I…" He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. The other arm he wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. Deciding words couldn't convey his heart, and feeling her melt into him, he let go of inhibitions and pressed his lips into hers. Unable to keep his eyes open he lost himself in the kiss. Time went by unnoticed until finally moments had meaning and space became conceivable again.

"I love you," he finished resting his forehead on hers.

Jillian lifted her hand to his face. It had a dampness to it, a humidity of old run down transport ships. Her eyes slipped onto his and she pulled him towards her again. She kissed him as if biting into fruit, savoring the texture and taste of his lips. She had let the tears fall from her eyes, and for the first time in months, she felt happy, "I love you, too", she whispered.

Nils smiled. Usually when he smiled it felt like it started on his face and he forced it not only out into the world around him, but into himself. This smile felt different. He didn't think he could've stopped it if he tried. From deep within, the feeling welled up and then poured off of him in an authentic grin. Pulling her so tight he thought he may break her, Nils picked up the slight woman and placed her gently on the couch beneath him. Immediately he tugged his shirt over his head and lowered himself on top of her, pressing himself into her. Again they kissed, building passion and intensity.

Nils paused beaming down on the beautiful girl looking up at him. He began working with the buttons on her blouse, frantically trying to undress her. "I don't understand why we do this…" he chuckled. "Why do we let things get so… so… out of phase?"

She arched her back, allowing him to pull the blouse away from her body, "I don't know." She said breathlessly, "It's all my fault. I get these feelings…" She reached down and unclasped his belt buckle, "I mean, why would I ever want to take a break? We're perfect together, " She kissed him, "We belong together. Whatever it is that comes over me can go to hell…I've missed you so…." Her voice began to trail off as she notices his eyes wander away from hers. He was distracted, "Nils?"

Nils' smile faded. Doubt resurfaced and devoured the joy the moment had offered. "Feelings? What kind of feelings?" A nagging feeling, like an itch, irritated somewhere inside. His pagh was bothered. Hovering over her, he waited for her to answer.

Realizing that he wouldn't be satisfied until she had given him an explanation, she gave in, "It's hard to describe…" She shook her head out of confusion, "It's a state of mind. One minute I feel like you need space and I should respect that, and the next minute I can't be without you," She kissed him softly on the cheek, attempting to pull his attention back, "Like right now…I know I can't be without you. I don't want to lose you."

The Bajoran suddenly felt very bare. He pushed himself off of Jillian and to the edge of the couch and stared out into space. A faint whisper issued from his barely parted lips.

Jillian couldn't breath. She put her hands on each side of his face and pulled his gaze onto her, "Nils…" She could feel her throat tightening, "…I said, I don't want to lose you."

Gently, Nils pulled his face from her grasp. A crushing suspicion settled over him and it threatened to unhinge his composure. "The Prophets don't want us together," he whispered again, this time barely audible.

Deep inside, down in the darkest crevice of her soul, she knew there was some truth to what he was saying, but she wasn't going to give up so easily this time, "And you? Do you want us together?"

"It's so clear now," he said, his eyes growing wide and wet with big tears threatening to escape from their prison. "Is it a test? Are the testing me…or… Do they want me to be miserable my whole life?" Nils stood and walked slowly towards the viewport, lost in his thoughts. "Why don't they want us together…" his voice a pathetic whimper echoed off the transparent aluminum and back into the stark and miserable cabin. Possibilities spun through his head, and though he didn't know why, he knew it was true. The Prophets had impressed upon both of them that they should not be together.

Jillian lifted herself from the couch and walked over to where Nils was standing. She followed his gaze out the viewport and slowly wrapped her arms around his torso. Kissing his back softly, she repeated herself through falling tears, "And you…do you want us together?"

Very slowly Nils turned around and pulled her close, pulling her cheek to his bare chest. Resting his chin on the top of her head he answered, "There is nothing I want more…" The heartbroken Bajoran slammed his eyes shut and squeezed them in overwhelming emotion. Finally the tears streamed down his cheek. "You're the only thing that has ever gone right in my life. But we can't…" A shuddering sob threatened to erupt from his chest. He forced it down and steeled himself to what he knew he had to do. "But I can't be with you right now. There is another plan…" He took both her hands in his and backed her off slowly. "This… Us… Our relationship… Isn't part of the plan…"

She couldn't do anything but stare at him. Blood rushed into her face, as if her body was giving her a boost of adrenaline, preparing her to win fight. And then suddenly, words were coming out of her mouth that she had no control over, "Why, Nils? Why would the prophets not want us to be together? Are you really going to throw away this relationship because you think you know what they want? WHY?" Her face had become unrecognizable, distorted by anger and frustration, "Why are you doing this? Why do you want to break my heart?" She screamed.

Nils shook his head franticly. "It's not what I want," he said trying to comfort her. "It's not what I want." Everything about this encounter felt wrong. But as he thought back to all that had transpired since his Pagh'Tem'Far a pattern emerged. Portions of a pattern became apparent. And although he couldn't make sense of it, a certainty that there was a bigger picture playing out urged him on. "It's not what I want," he said one more time. "But the Prophets…."

Jillian held one hand on her stomach, to keep herself getting sick, "Nils, are you ending this? For real? Are we over?" This was all she needed to know, she had heard enough about the prophets.

Sadly and slowly, Nils nodded, his eyes dropping to the deck floor in shame.

She exhaled, gasping for air, "If you love me like you say you do, you'll leave me alone. Don't talk to me, don't come near me…It would be too painful." She looked up at him, her eyes swollen, "Please leave". When she saw that he wasn't moving, she began crying heavily again, "GET OUT!"

Feeling thoroughly destroyed Nils moved towards the exit. He paused, but bit his lip holding back any more words. Quickly he shoved the door open and left, leaving his meager cabin to the woman he loved…the woman he couldn't be with…

This melodrama brought to you by Nils and Jils! 4/8/08


"Ho ye! Can ye gie's a haund?"

Jillian glanced up from her seat at the bar, "I'm not sure I'd be of much use, but I can certainly try." She said dryly.

"I was hoping you could help me find a young woman," the handsome doctor took a seat beside Jillian and held his hand up high, "She's about yay high, dark brown hair, blue eyes, always smiling. In fact, I don't think I'd recognize her if she wasn't smiling."

A smile crept across Jillian's previously sour looking face, "It's just been one of those days. Horrible actually."

He shook his head, "Aye. I figured something was up, so I came to find you."

Jillian furrowed her brow, "But I haven't seen you all day…How did…"

"I went back to the crew quarters to find the XO sleeping in my bed. I mentioned the mix up to him, but he pretty much told me to sod off. He looked miserable. I figured that kind of heartache could only be caused by a woman."

She looked down at her empty glass and tapped the rim, indicating to the barkeep, a refill, "That would be my fault. I kicked him out of his own room. I"m sorry to have inconvenienced you like this," she said, "I'll make sure you have a new bed assigned."

The doctor waved it off, "Jillian. Please. I'm here for you. You know that." He said the words and the meaning, but Jillian hardly knew the man. "Being trapped on this shit heap has put us all out of sorts. It's been a long trip." He sighed, and reached forward to squeeze her hand, "Now, tell me everything."

Jillian swallowed hard, jittery about where to begin, "Lieutenant Torrik and I are no longer together."

A look of confusion crossed the man's face, "But…I thought you were already broken up?"

She nodded, "We were, but I always thought we'd get back together. And we almost did. But then he tells me that he doesn't want me, it's over, we're done….there's no place for "us" in the plan."

"The plan?"

"The plan."

"What plan?"

"The prophet's plan."

There was a brief pause before Matthew Ayre let out a snicker of disbelief, "You're kidding me."

Jillian nodded to the bartender as he passed her a fresh drink, she took a swig and shook her head, "Nope. Not kidding." She swiveled her stool to face the Doctor, "You know, before my father died he told me that it was misleading to imagine people when one saw them in the Mind's Eye, because one never remembered them as they really were, with as many inconsistencies as there are stars in the universe. Instead, the mind uses a lazy shorthand to smooth the person over into their most charming characteristic, and one often makes the mistake of judging them from this alone and risk, in a later encounter, being dangerously surprised."

The doctor blinked a few times, "Where are you going with this, Ace? You're getting too deep." He said blandly.

"I've just been such a fool," she rested her elbows on the counter and cradled her face, "He's not who I thought he was. I mean, how can I ever be with someone who would throw me aside because he think the Gods don't want us to be together? Am I not worth fighting for? Can he actually be OK with living his life without me? Because…I'm not sure I can handle living my life without him."

Matt leaned closer to Jillian and said softly, "You are beautiful. You are intelligent. You are incredibly interesting. You’re definitely girlfriend material. The lieutenant, however, is not boyfriend material. He obviously can’t do commitment, and to be fair, he shouldn't have to pretend to you that he can. Using the prophets as an excuse is just pathetic. You deserve better."

Jillian smiled. She didn't agree with him at all, but it was nice to have someone listen and be supportive, "You know the beginning of Moby Dick, when the narrator says that when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanted to knock people’s hats off, he takes to the sea? Well I feel like knocking people’s hats off."

"So I guess we gotta take to the sea…let's go see if we can find something fun to do on this hunk of junk."

"Only one more day…"
Originally Posted 4/9/08 by Jillian Munro


.: Transport Ship Barithar | Mess Hall :.

"Sorry if it's not what yer used to Cap'n." offered the greasy freighter captain before him aroud a rather generous bite of what might have been some sort of Tuna Caserole. "But our replicators been on the blink fer bout four weeks now. Ah thank it's git'n better though."

Nathan shrugged. It wasn't great, but then again this was a last minute affair and the Britha was the only ship going to Megiddo Station that could get fify people there on time. Contemplating the mass on his plate, the teen captain was reminded of the ancient sailors that he'd seen in some holovids, and what they had been forced to choke down on long voyages at sea.

"This food lacks asthetic value." Nathaniel informed the two of them matter of factly from his spot beside Nathan. A sidelong glance from Nathan elicited an addendum. "But it's… good for you." He finished with a nod. "And it tastes like feet."

At this the Brithar's captain, a burly human with wild greasy locks that hung to the center of his back, let out a belly laugh that sent bits of food flying back onto his plate and the table. "Ay Lad… it sure does that!" He agreed, shoveling more of the casserole into his mouth. "But like ye said.. it keeps us goin eh?"

"Why does this vessel have substandard replicators?" Nathaniel asked earnestly. "The Hawking has ones that give out ice cream and other confections. I can't find any confections on your list though." The boy didn't understand why Starfleet would make one vessel with sufficient systems and others without. "

"Oi… that's because; No offense cap'n; Starfleet gets all the good'n and we have te buy our own. 'Course… shippin freight ain't so profitable as she used te be.. No sir but we make due. Just cain't afford confections and the like." the grisled old freighter captain cast a smile and a wink down at Nathan's young shadow as he prepared to heap another load of casserole into his mouth.

=/\= Tennaji to Benjamin =/\=

Tapping the small chirping delta on his chest, Nathan responded. =/\= Hello. =/\=

=/\= Sir, I think you may wish to come down to the crew's berthing on the lower decks. there has been a small series of incidents. =/\=

Nathan's mood darkened a bit at this. the department heads had brought along the best people in their departments. Surely one of them hadn't done something stupid. Excusing himself from the table he hurried over to the corner of the room, as not to be heard.

=/\= What's the problem dude? =/\= He little more than whispered into the device.

=/\= Commander Munro and Torrik Nils have been attacked by members of the Brithar's crew, as have three crewmen from engineering. I have informed Ensign Costala as well sir. =/\=

=/\= Anyone hurt? =/\=

=/\= Lieutenant Torrik sustained some abrasions and minor injuries. Crewman Anderson may have injured one or more of the Brithar's crew attempting to diffuse the situation. But she was not injured. =/\= The last bit sounded as though Tennaji had said it to quell some concern that Nathan might have had about Jenny's well being exclusively. He was right to do it. For as soon as her name was mentioned as being among the fray, a knot began developing behind the teen's naval. And though it didn't subside completely, hearing that Jenny was unharmed did quite a lot to alleviate it. =/\=

=/\= Oh.. and one last thing sir.. erhm… Crewman Kowalski… He's been elected captain of the….=/\=

the rest of Tennaji's sentence was lost to the sound of flying furniture and an Irate former ship's captain rising from the table

"You tell those sonsofbitches that I'll see ever last one of'em trown outa an airlock!" He screamed into his handheld. I'll skins all of 'em and make a shower curtain outta they hides! Me'n th'Starfleet Cap'n are on our way!" The small communicator was stuffed angrily back into his pocket as about two hundred and fifty pound barreled toward Nathan with Nathaniel sitting in unabashed awe of the outburst. Catching his eye, Nathan motioned for the boy to come along. No sooner than the little Borg's butt had left the seat, his older counterpartwas grabbed roughly around the arm and haf led half dragged out the door into the dingy corridor.

"We's gonna settle this here Starfleet!" The Brithar's no former master spat as he stalked off down the corridor, Nathan in tow and Nathaniel hurrying to catch the two of them.
Originally Posted 4/9/08 by Nathan Benjamin


:: SS Megiddo ::
:: Docking Ring ::

With as much speed as he could muster without breaking into a run, Nils departed the transport from hell. The journey through the umbilical into the station proper felt like a sweet release from prison. If he ever saw the space ship Barithar again it would be too soon. Aside from his own personal drama, getting beat up, and having to spend the final night in a snore infested crew bunk, trying to liberate Kawalski from his new duty as Captain had been torturous.

Moving forward, the Bajoran pushed it from his mind. There were new and different challenges ahead. And dwelling on what may well have been the worst space journey of his life did not get things done.

“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant,” said the Petty Officer at personnel and referral. “From the Hawking?”

Nils only nodded. Evidently the subspace comms were all aflutter with news of the crew’s arrival. From nowhere a mini-mic and microcam flashed into his face.

“Your on EBA Today, Lieutenant, I’m Chris Garcia,” said a smiling plastic man from behind the lens. “How does it feel to be crewing a ship with as much history and legacy as the USS Constitution?”

Nils did not move. He held his ground and scowled. After staring into the camera with irritation he turned his attention to the buffoon operating it. “Get the hell out of my way,” he said, his voice full of gravel. Shoving the man and his camera out of the way he moved on.

“Torrik to T’Landra,” he said after activating his combadge.

=/\= T’Landra, =/\= she replied with no emotion.

“I’m going to board the Constitution and start setting up stations. I want to know what we’re dealing with over there,” he started. “Transfer all our personnel data to the Constitution’s Main Computer immediately.”

=/\= Aye, sir. =/\=

“And get a memo to the press… I want nothing to do with them,” he grumbled.

=/\= Considering the purpose of the voyage, and Starfleet’s own interest in public relations through the race, I would consider that request out of…=/\=

“Just do it, T’Landra,” he barked, his pace quickening.

=/\= Understood, sir, =/\= she agreed apprehensively.

“Torrik out,” he finished.

As he rounded a corner on the docking ring a view port caught his eye. His steps faltered and he paused, drifting closer to the window. There, floating out in space was the Sentinel.

Sentinel2.jpg

She hung proudly north on the z axis from the station in a near orbit. His old ship looked repaired and ready for action. The sight brought with it a pang of regret and longing. The Hawking was a fine ship, but the Sentinel held a special place in his heart.

Nils sighed then carried on. There was work to accomplish and a ship to get action ready. For the fourth time in as many hours, he lamented his new position as First Officer. Then the anger of their assignment took root again. Taking part in a Starship race felt so completely pointless to him. Then he thought of Jillian and every other feeling faded to nothing.

Only pain held sway when her visage filled his mind’s eye. He had hurt her. And as much as it bothered him to admit it, the Prophets had hurt her. And that made him angry at the Prophets. But faith without action was dead. And if he couldn’t follow the promptings of his faith, then he was unworthy of it. He couldn’t let his feelings for her weaken his resolution. He was resolved to…

To what?

He didn’t know. Since his death and subsequent vision of the Emissary he’d felt drawn to something. But the feeling was so nebulous and undefined that he couldn’t put words to it. And for a Bajoran so deeply committed to science and definition, that place was a new hell.

A few moments later, Nils was stepping on a transporter pad. He’d managed to outpace the rest of his crew, which had been his goal. He absently checked the pack slung over his shoulder, then satisfied that he was ready, he nodded at the technician behind the booth.

“One to the Constitution,” the young crewman said, smiling a goofy smile.

Irritation welled up in Nils that that was the last thing he saw before dematerializing.
Originally Posted 4/10/08 by Torrik Nils


Gae straecht! Than turn left reit!"

Jillian chuckled, "Well, I'm glad one of us knows where were going."

The two doctors rounded the corner to towards sickbay. There was an excitement in each step; for Matt it was about the history and spirit of the ship, for Jillian it was the fresh territory, a place with no emotional connection to Nils, “Aye. I've been studying these halls since I was a little kid.”

“It really is quite overwhelming,” said Jillian, “I didn't think I'd feel this way.”

The doctor nodded with a full grin on his face, “Well, here we are.” They stopped before going in, “…think about the legends who have walked through these doors.” He took one last deep breath, “What do you say, old broad? Shall we enter?"

“By all means, after you.” She said while motioning him forward.

The doors swished open, revealing a bright white room with four attaching wards.

"Holy moly", was all Jillian could say.

"Isn't she brilliant." Beamed Matt.

“You could fit 3 Hawking sickbays in here!”

Out of nowhere a man came jogging towards them from one of the wards. Even from 10 paces away he held out his hand, ready to shake.

"Doctor Munro, Ma'me. Nice to meet you!"

Jillian reached out and shook the young man's hand, “Nice to meet you…You must be …”

“Chris Hodges.” He flashed a genuine friendly smile, “Sorry about getting here before you, Doc. I couldn't sleep last night so I thought I'd get myself set up early.” He had blond hair, messy but stylish, and he wore a crisp new blue/black classic uniform, “Anyhow…I'm the ship's bioweaponeer.” he said, as if revealing a secret.

It took Jillian a few seconds to process what he had just said, “…bioweaponeer…OH!” She said suddenly while smacking her forehead, “That's right. You're the biological warfare specialist. I've read a lot of your work, it's a pleasure to be working with you.”

“Likewise, Ma'me. “

“You know, I won't lie, Chris. Your title is a little scary.”

The bioweaponeer chuckled, “You wouldn't be the first to say that, but really, I'm more about preventing biological warfare than starting it. With that you can be sure.” He lowered his voice slightly, “And please excuse my boyish excitement. Crewin' on an oldie has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember.”

Matthews eyes lit up, “I was just telling the Doctor the same thing.” He gave Chris a pat on the back as he took a few more steps into sickbay, “Well, I think she's going to make a fine sickbay.” He turned back to look at Jillian, “When is the rest of the staff supposed to arrive?”

“Very soon. I'm expecting Tatiana, Joseph, L'mek, Usha & Stephanie to walk through that door any second now. As soon as they arrive we'll sit down for a staff meeting.” Jillian took another look around sickbay, deciding which ward to explore first, Medlabs, Surgical Suits, Emergency Bio Support Ward and the Morgue, she thought to herself, "…If you need me, I'll be in the medlabs."
Originally Posted 4/10/08 by Jillian Munro


USS Constitution
Transporter Room C

A re-solidified Usher Tenanji barely took time to glance over the antiquated transporter room before he was on the move, “Tenanji, Lieutenant, Security reporting as ordered,” he recited, his voice, British with a hint of the Niger flowing through it, cool and distant, “my personal’s will be arriving with the rest of my team,” he added, moving for the door. He was anxious to get to the bridge on this relic, where he looked forward to an interesting discussion with the powers that be on the disposition of his small tactical team. The fact that, on this vessel, the tactical systems ran through navigation was going to be a problem. None of the helm crew were rated sufficiently on tactical and, of his team, only he himself had any experience in nav’s beyond steering a shuttle, though, shockingly, Koll had helmed a K’t’inga class battle cruiser and so may prove more useful than originally anticipated.

He was fairly certain he’d have Captain Benjamin’s support, if it came to an extended debate over who took the nav chair but he believed quite firmly that a department head, even an unwilling department head, should be responsible for his own…

“Ah, sir?” the tech by the transporter controls called to him before he could make it through the door.

“Yes?” Turning back, Tenanji noted the red-shirted man standing at ease next to the gold-clad transporter tech… a red shirt depressingly similar to the one Usher was wearing at this very moment… in fact, from the second he’d donned the item some hour and a half past, the lieutenant had been forcing himself not to look for the target he felt certain had been painted on his back. “Is there a problem?”

“I hope not,” the red-shirt said with a tentative smile before stepping forward, “Lieutenant jg David Quincy, reporting for duty,” he offered up the orders, contained on an old-time memo pad, with stylus attached. “I was with the Hawking, before she went in search of the Sentinel… but there was a clerical… thing and I missed the boat.”

Quincy, ah… “So you would be the father of Autumn and Kadence Quincy?”

The smile became slightly less tentative, “I would… I’m guessing they’ve gotten into some trouble, lately?”

Usher gave a slight shake of the head, “No more than the rest of the crew in the mess that day. Last I heard, their mother was planning to take the girls for an extended visit to the Outpost. She had plans for a story on ‘frontier life’ as I recall,” he accepted Quincy’s orders, looked down. “It says here,” he glanced back up, “that you were helm, prior to the clerical error.”

“Yes, but during the Hawking’s… absence,” David glossed over the word, as if by saying it quickly he could erase the months of constant panic alternating with insane hope he’d endured while his ship, and his family, had been missing, “there was a gap in Security on the station. I had to take what was available and,” he shrugged, “turns out it was a good fit. Unfortunately the job had me out babysitting a UFP transport last time Hawking made Megiddo…”

Usher considered the man. “Would you say your navigational skills have at all suffered during your tenure at SS Megiddo?”

“No Sir,” Quincy clasped his hands behind his back, hiding his nerves from the questioning stare, “I’ve continued working the sims, on my own time. More lately… trying out the nav controls on the Constellation class once I got the go-ahead to rejoin Hawking’s crew.”

At that, Usher flashed a rare, brief smile, “Then, Mr. Quincy, please come with me. I believe you may lend some weight to a request I was about to make regarding the disposition of our tactical unit.”

“Great! I mean, good,” David threw a casual wave at Dinkins, the kid who was running transport, this shift as he followed his new boss out to the corridor. “But, forgive me asking, Lieutenant, I was led to believe I’d be reporting to an Ensign Finn…” and he’d been interested in meeting the Ensign. From what Sam and Autumn had told him in their several, too-brief, communications, Finn was a big hit with Autumn… he’d even given her a nickname. Dave felt a surge of something too close to jealousy for his own liking. It wasn’t this Harry Finn’s fault that Autumn’s dad had been lost in paperwork while his family went through, according to Sam, three or four different levels of hell.

But, dammit, the way Autumn talked about the guy…

“That is rather a long story,” Usher said, eyes forward, “and best saved for another time.”

Dave took the hint, though he wondered if any of the other folks on tactical would be more forthcoming on the subject. Meanwhile, he was, finally, on his way home, as fast as this old bird could carry him. A small smile tugged at his cheeks… if anyone had a reason to reach the finish line first, it was David Quincy.

Originally Posted 4/10/08 by Harry Finn


-Transport Barithar-
-Two Days Prior-

Javier followed Cadet Boyce down into the bowels of the transport, the smells grew less pleasant in that part of the ship and the engineer began to wonder what exactly the transport was hauling. "It smells like a dead cat down here," Fenton commented.

"Several hundred dead cats," Javier added. "And Kal-El is down here? I always thought he preferred places that smelled better."

"I think he's enjoying himself far too much," Cadet Boyce said, "The crew like him..for some reason, and they have their new choice for captain." The cadet arrived at a junction and took a left. Javier followed and as he turned the corner realized that they were in the storage areas of the transport as he, Boyce and T'Shaini stood before an entrance that led into a large cargobay. They could go no farther as the entrance was blocked by two behemoth crewmen whose bulging muscles were the size of small children.

"What chu want?" the more talkative of the two lugs grunted.

To Javier's utter surprise Boyce answered bravely, stupidly, facing almost certain death: "Hello Troglodyte, I'm here to see the new captain. I was here before, I'm a friend of his remember?"

The solid mass of muscle grunted in affirmation then said, "He is Trog-lo-dites." pointing to the other slab of muscle guarding the door, then pointed back to himself and said proudly, "I am Vissy-goths."

Biting back a chuckle, T'Shaini schooled her features and asked. "Are these names newly given?"

Barely acknowledging her with a grunt, Trog-lo-dites said, "Capt'n Kale gives 'em."

"And it gets a lot better than that," Boyce told Javier and T'Shaini.

"Kale?" Javier inquired

"He is new capt'n," Vissy-goths answered, "he is great warrior."

At these words the Chief Engineer laughed outloud. "Kal-El? A warrior? Okay there's one to put in the next communication with Mustapha," Javier said, his voice full of mirth. He sobered up as Vissy-goths eyebrows began to knit furiously. No use making the big fellow mad. "Can we see Capt'n Kale," the engineer asked.

"Vissy?" a voice inquired from the cargobay, "is that Boyce out there? Let him come in you dunderheaded coconut! I told you he's a friend of mine."

The muscle seemed to think Kal-El was heaping accolades upon him with this new name. The cretin stood aside and allowed Boyce, Javier and T'shaini into the cargobay's interior. It was difficult to find Kal-El at first because of the large number of crew massing in the bay. It seemed as if almost the entire crew was encapsulated in the bay. A their center Javier found 'Capt'n Kale' laying on a crate while a green-skinned Orion crew person fed him slices of some sort of fruit.

"Enjoying yourself Petty Officer?" Javier asked.

"Oh Chief.." Kal-El replied, he sprang up from the crate and shoo-ed away the Orion female. "I..uh..made some new friends..and they were just showing me a good time, I mean they were.."

"They elected you Captain is what Boyce told me." Javier glanced around at the motley group of transport crew. "You realize that serving or even pretending to serve in another capacity on a ship not designated on your assignment is a breach of protocol?"

"Well I.." Kal-El started.

"And is punishable with a sentence of ten years in a Federation military prison?" Javier continued.

Kal-El's face turned a sickly green color. "I thought it would be fun to travel in style.."

"And you will most likely serve your term in Rura Penthe after I complete my report," the engineer added.

T'Shaini opened her mouth to protest that she did not believe that Javier was correct in his assessment of the punishment liable, when a slight crinkling at the corner of Javier's eyes gave away the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing. Placing her hand on his shoulder, the counselor stepped in smoothly. "Certainly there must be some other way to rectify the situation…"

Kowalski nodded his head emphatically. "Yeah Chief..I could tell them it was a mistake."

"Well..I don't know. What do you suggest Counselor?" Javier asked, playing the part.

"Perhaps if he just told the crew it was a mistake and that he needed to return to his duties aboard the Hawking we might…" She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial fashion, I am enjoying this far more than I should.. "sweep it under the floor."

"I could do that..we could sweep it under the floor..completely," Kowalski said nervously, "Hey Vagabond, Visigoths, Australopithecans," the petty officer said to the crew surrounding them, "I can't be your captain..I already have a job."

"We might could sweep it under the rug," Javier replied, "but if this ever gets out.."

Rug…right. T'Shaini raised one eyebrow in Kal-El's direction. "And really… do you wish to be around in the eventuality that one of them asks the computer what their name means?"

"Especially the two guys guarding the front door," Boyce chimed in. The look on Kal-El's face was enough to convince Javier that the man had given up all his aspirations for Command. "I suggest you go back to your quarters and stay there until we reach Megiddo Station." Kal-El nodded then looked around the cargobay as if searching for someone among the throng of crew. Finally he spotted the Orion woman and told her, "Bashi-bazouks you're in charge now, with your skills I'm sure you'll make a fine captain." The crew in the bay cheered at this sudden decision. Captains must not last long on this ship. Javier surmised.

"Kowalski."

"Going now Chief," Kal-El replied as he took his leave of the cargobay.

"Boyce, make sure he gets to his quarters," Javier said, then watched the cadet trot after Kowalski. He turned back to T'Shaini. "Thanks for playing good cop, bad cop with me."

T'Shaini let the smile that had been threatening spread across her face as they left the cargo bay. "As counselor I know it is fitting for me to facilitate the role of 'good cop', but perhaps one day you would allow me to play 'bad cop'…" Her smile was suddenly tinged with mischief. "I am certain I could locate that riding crop from Q…."

4/10/08 JP by Javier 'Bad Cop' Costala & T'Shaini the Good Cop who can be very bad


::USS Constitution::
:: Sickbay Medlab ::

Jillian Munro carefully measured the last reagent to be added to the solution. Please let this mixture work, she mumbled under her breath. The Constitution's Chief Medical Officer had been working on the same robotics project for the last three years. It had been months since she had any motivation to touch her research, but then during a conversation with Dr.Hodges, a series of interesting points were brought up. He had made a few suggestions that triggered a string of hypotheses.

She was now studying an unidentified species skin cells that had recently been discovered on a Y class planet in the Gamma quadrant. Chris Hodges had mentioned a rare find, specifically skin cells that had the unusual ability to regenerate at a rapid pace and live completely independent from the rest of body. An alien body had been found, it's dermal layer perfectly “alive”, unfortunately the same could not be said for it's inner workings. The downside however was once the skin cells were removed form the Y class planet environment, they begin to degrade within seconds.

Hodges seemed oblivious to the importance of this find. If the structure of the skin cell could be synthesized and made compatible with an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere, it would make the perfect dermal layer for a robotic skeleton. Though her superiors at Starfleet command decided this wasn't priority research, they did grant Jillian permission to continue research on her own time.

The cell was incredibly easy to synthesize. That she had accomplished in a few weeks. It was the compatibility issues that were the thorn. Every attempt to grow the cell in an M-Class environment let to rapid degeneration of the cell membranes and cell death in a matter of days. Obviously this would not do. Her last test, a delicate mixture of CuZn-superoxide dismutase & glycerogiycolipid, injected into the cell had been a desperate grasp at straws. The chemical was normally poisonous, but its action as a poison was to harden cell walls so much as to make them impermeable to everything, including oxygen and nitrogen.

The effect was promising. The poison killed the cells in the same way it normally did, but over a much longer time period. That seemed to indicate she was on the right track. She just needed to find the right balance.

“Munrooooo…what's shakin, girl?”

Startled at the unexpected vocal intrusion, Jillian nearly dropped the petri dish she was so carefully inspecting, “Good grief, Chris. It's the middle of the night! What are you doing up? Graveyard shifts haven't even been assigned yet”

Chris nodded as he took a seat on the edge of her workbench, “I realize that, but as I've mentioned many times…I can't sleep,” He looked around the room, “This place…it has me in a spell.”

Jillian chuckled, “I don't think I've ever met anyone as enthusiastic and positive as you and Doctor Ayre. I wish I could say it was infectious.”

The young Doctor shrugged, “It's beyond me, really. Life is just…good.”

Jillian looked up from her petri dish and smiled, “I'm glad.”

“How about you? Life good?” He asked tentatively.

“It would be a lot better if the Constitution was suddenly assigned a new XO.”

“Ice, ice baby…What's going on, Jill? You and the XO on bad terms?” He sang.

“The man should be drawn and quartered.” She said flatly.

“That bad, huh.”

“Actually, quartering is too good for him. He should be eigthed, sixteenthed!”

“I don't know, Doc. You quarter a guy, he's in four pieces. That's tough to mend.”

“He should be stretched on a rack, iron maidened, strappadoed!”

“Oh my God, what the heck is strappadoed?”

“When you suspend them in the air, with a rope tied to his hands, that are tied behind his back.”

“You're scaring me with your knowledge of torture.”

“I was once borg, it comes with the territory.”

Realizing the inappropriateness of all her comments, she sighed deeply, “I'm sorry…I'm being a child. I shouldn't be bad mouthing the second in command, especially to my own staff.”

“Don't sweat it. Your secrets safe with me. Then again…if you want…I can always send him a nasty virus,” he put one hand across his heart, “I promise nothing too severe…just enough to get him off the ship and onto the station for the next couple of weeks.” He winked.

“Uhhh…no, that won't be necessary.” She paused, “But, thank you for listening.”

Hodges return a warm smile, “Hey, you got it, Doc. I'm here to listen…and occasionally blow something up.”

"That's comforting." She said pleasantly, though clearly dripping with sarcasm.
Originally Posted 4/11/08 by Jillian Munro


::Women's locker room, USS Constitution::

"Horrifying…"

T'Shaini tried to pull the skirt down further, to no avail. "Surely the could not mean for it to be this short, what happens if I drop something?" She wondered aloud.

"If you drop something, male crew efficiency drops by thirty percent," Jenny commented from the locker door she was, admit it, Jen, hiding behind. "No, make that fifty percent."

"And if you try to pull it down to cover anything it simply makes the neckline lower." A surge of panic swept through the counselor. "I do not think I can leave this room…for perhaps the entire race, just send my patients here…I can hide behind a locker."

"Well…I think they're just darling," sang Jillian as she admired the classic uniform reflecting in the mirror in front of her.

The other two women shouted. "Darling?"

The Vulcan's jaw dropped. "Did you say darling?

Jenny slammed the locker closed in disgust, "This" she began, indicating the florid red mini-travesty she was wearing, "Is not 'darling'. And even if it IS 'darling', there is no room for 'darling' in Security! And you know what else there's no room for?" she was on a roll, now… Uncle Harry would have been proud… Jen produced the regulation phaser of the period from where it had been waiting on the bench, "This! There is no room for a wepaon of this… size… anywhere in this…. this… I have no words…" Well, none that she could utter in front of two superior officers, anyway. "AND, I look horrible in red."

"You know, Jenny, you should really sit down and watch some 20th century James Bond films. You'd make a great Bond girl…all of them strapped their weapons to their bare thighs. It really was darling." Jillian beamed, "And you look great, red! It brings out the fury in your cheeks." She added with a wink.

"Oh dear gods," A new thought occurred to T'Shaini. "How is anyone going to take me seriously? Who is going to listen to the counselor dressed up as an Orion Slave girl." She covered her face in her hand and sank down to sit on the bench behind her…only to shoot back up with a squeak. "Cold! Cold bench on bare behind!"

It was only then that Jenny noticed that the Counselor's uniform was even more lacking than hers. "OH, ah… Lieutenant… I think you might want to add some hose, there… umm…"

"Hose?" T'Shaini's nose wrinkled in confusion.

Jen looked to Jillian for aid but the doctor was no help, convulsing in barely suppressed mirth, "Yeah, hose, as in pantyhose… stockings? Tights?" No bells seemed to be ringing, "Ancient torture device disguised as an excuse for leg coverings…?" She pointed to her own, already sporting a run, 'ancient torture device', "These?"

"Ohhhhhh…" Her cheeks darkened with embarrassment. Stupid emotional response. Then reaching into a locker she pulled out a pair of hose with two other uniforms, one rolled up and stuffed down each leg. "I thought….I thought it was a device for transporting the uniforms."

"That's… that's a completely understandable mistake," Jenny responded soberly, "but for the sake of… well, for the extra half a degree celcius of heat, you might want to try wearing them."

Ducking her head to cover the blush, T'Shaini extricated the uniforms from the hose, and with difficulty stretched her long legs into them. Standing back up she frowned at the other women. "This is supposed to keep me warm?"

"Not really," Jen admitted. "I'm not sure what they're supposed to do, to be honest." She ran a hand over the odd tear in her own pair of hose, "But they sure are flimsy… Ensign Mellon shredded three pairs before she gave up and went commando." The half-Cardassian's skin was apparently too textured for the delicate fabric.

Jillian sat down on the bench, stocking in hand, "So…umm…quick question. Are we supposed to wear these by themselves? Or with…um…underwear?"

4/11/08 Locker room blues by: Jenny, T'Shaini & Jills



USS Constitution
Security Office

“I did not think I would care for this uniform,” Koll was saying as he and his brother entered the office.

“I know,” Rak’h answered, as the two strode up to where CPO Jameson was scowling at a memo tablet, “But we should not have worried for it is obvious that we make these clothes look good!”

Koll clapped his brother on the shoulder in agreement before addressing their superior. “Chief Jameson, how will the brother’s Noth serve the glorious Federation this day!”

Jameson brought the scowl up to Noth-eye level. “The glorious Federation seems to be moving kind of slowly,” he commented dryly. “There’s some shindig up at the station pulling the senior staff’s attention from race prep so it’s up to us to make sure the old broad is up to standard. Rak’h, I want you to join Ensign Mellon in the torpedo bay and drill the infants they’ve got running this museum… make sure the kids know how to prep the payload…

“He’s Rak’h,” the Klingon he addressed interrupted, “I am Koll.”

Jameson’s jaw tightened, “Fine, Koll, LT wants you on the bridge. You need to run over the nav/tac systems while we’ve got all this spare time.”

“I reviewed the specifications of this vessel in the Hawking’s holodeck,” Koll pointed out.

“And now you’re going to review them in real time,” Jameson threw the clunky pad on the desk, ignored the stylus as it fell out and rolled to the floor. “Understand this, whatever the brass may think, this is a Federation starship flying through frequently-disputed space… we run into any trouble, our team will not be found wanting. Are we clear?”

Jameson’s deep voice was practically a growl, which resonated with something ancient in the Klingon brothers’ genetic makeup… they stood a bit straighter and began to vibrate with a corresponding fervor. “As clear as the Falls of T’ang on Krios Prime,” Koll averred, offering a Klingon salute.

“Then to your posts,” the chief petty officer dismissed, “And, Koll, try not to break the chair at navi…”

“He’s Koll,” Rak’h pointed out, “I am…”

“Whatever… don’t break the furniture. Dismissed.”

“Chief!” the two nodded and left the room.

“This,” William said to himself as the doors slid closed, “is gonna be a disaster.”

Post featuring NPC’s CPO William Jameson and exchange crewmembers Rak’h and Koll. Or is it Koll and Rak’h?
Originally Posted 4/11/08 by Harry Finn


:: USS Constitution ::
:: Bridge ::

Red isn't so bad. Command has red undershirts. Red is not so bad. Javier thought as he walked along the corridor that led to the bridge, in an effort to get used to the 21st century uniform he wore. The shirt was so red it made him feel like a target. A big red target. I bet more people were killed on away team missions because of this shirt. It just screams: 'Hey! Shoot Me!' He entered the bridge area and stopped to stare at the archaic monitors and Command chair which reminded him of a chair one might see in an old Earth barbershop. "Retro," Javier commented. As the computer had informed him, Nils was working on the bridge. Javier noticed that he was also wearing a light blue uniform, almost similar to the one Torrik wore on the Hawking.

"Hey, how come you get to wear your old colors?" he asked the Bajoran officer.

Up to the present, Nils had ignored the swoosh and re-swoosh of the doors on the bridge as the crew came and went. It had been a high priority for him to keep a low profile and work. Though, he didn't know exactly how much work he could accomplish with these antiquated sensors. Plus he was already getting a crick in his back from bending over the sensor interface.

"I hardly see why it matters what color you're wearing, Costala," he said dryly, without turning around. "And I wouldn't say that I'm getting to do anything. This costume party makes no sense to me." With that he went back to calibrations.

"I think it has to do with the spirit of the historic..journey..to the..something like that anyway," Javier replied, trying to make sense of the whole event. "I was just on my way to the senior officer's meeting," the engineer said, "you know the one I'm talking about..the one that everyone seems to have already left for, and the transporter officer told me you were still on the ship so I just stopped by to inquire why you aren't going."

NilsonConstitution.jpg

Nils turned suddenly and glared at Javier. "A meeting? I wasn't told about any meeting…" He mentally reviewed the last couple of hours making certain that perhaps he hadn't inadvertently ignored the order. Despite his focus on his task, he rarely missed such things. Another notch on the best first week being XO belt. "Where is it?"

"Megiddo Station," Javier replied, "I could see how you might have missed the invitation from the admiral. I almost did but one of the other engineers reminded me. In fact, we better head out, it's probably already started. Did I mention that the admiral called the meeting?"

"Damnit," Nils cursed under his breath. He tried to put the calibrations on a self diagnostic, but couldn't find the correct function to make that occur. Maybe these ships didn't even have self diagnotistics. "Fine…" he said giving up the search. "Just lead the way."

As he stepped toward the door, he stabbed himself in the chest with his finger. "Torrik to…damnit…" Quickly recovering from the oversight, he grabbed the bulky communicator from his belt strap and flipped it open. "Torrik to T'Landra. I'm leaving the ship for a meeting with the Admiral. Please continue checking in the crew. I'd like a full report on readiness when I'm back on board."

=/\= Understood, =/\= came her always ready reply.

"Ok, let's go," he offered through a sigh.

Javier had to hide laughter behind a sudden fit of coughing. He had only just gotten used to the prospect of not having a combadge, and suddenly realized how comical and futile he must have seemed slapping himself in the chest, after having watched Torrik do the same thing. "Uh..okay." The engineer led the way off the bridge and through the corridor, only slowing to let Nils catch up with him. "I have to ask you something important, before we get to the meeting," he told his former roommate, "I asked T'Shaini but I think she just tells me what I want to hear."

"I don't think you want romantic advice from me, Costala," the Bajoran said, sounding defeated. Despite the complete frustration the man usually offered Nils, he did have a certain respect and affection for him. After all, his intentions were of the noblest stock. But as the saying goes… The road to hell… "But ask away," he finished, without a hint of enthusiasm.

"Okay, look," Javier said, pointing to his stomach. "Does this uniform make me look fat? I mean really..look." The engineer sucked in his stomach then let it out. "It's like I have a little paunch in this uniform. But I don't have it in my other one. My diet hasn't changed and I exercise regularly..I don't get it. T'Shaini says I'm just imagining it. What do you think?" To emphasize his point Javier sucked in his stomach then let it out a few times.

With a confused expression, Nils leaned out to the side and surveyed the Chief Engineer from top to bottom. He leaned the other way and repeated the process. "I can't say I notice a significant increase in body mass," he said seriously. He slowed a little and let Javi get ahead of him then surveyed his ex-roommate again from behind. "I think you look fine," he chimed, dead pan. A passing ensign gave him a funny look and Nils realized how odd he must appear. "In his uniform," the Bajoran called to the ensign as he passed. "He looks fine in his…" he started to explain. "You know what… it's none of your business, Ensign, carry on," he spouted grumpily, his brow falling low. "I think it's your imagination," he said quietly, catching up to Javier.

"Yeah, maybe you and T'Shaini are right," Javier said with a shake of his head, sucking in his stomach as a female officer walked by. She was wearing one of those uniform skirts that all of the female crew had been issued. "Do you think that maybe men in the 21st century had a lower sex drive?" he asked after walking several meters. "Because those uniform skirts get me every time. I wonder if it just didn't bother them.." turning left as they entered the transporter room.

"I wouldn't venture to guess," the Scientist said, following Javier into the transporter. "But I'm certain it varied from species to species…" Feelings suddenly unsure of the whole scenario Nils piped up to reassure himself, "Costala, what was this meeting about? The Captain never mentioned anything about it."

"Two to beam to those station co-ordinates Chief," Javier told the TC, ignoring the science officer for the moment. The officers were caught up in the shimmering light of the transporter. They re-materialized outside of the Regatta bash which sounded as if it was in full swing. "Surprise," Javier said as he gave Nils a polite shove towards the entrance. Refusing to acknowledge any protest, the engineer herded Torrik into the room, past the senior officers and over to the bar. "Shots!" he called out to the bartender, "He just got a promotion!" Javier yelled as he pointed at Nils. "Ladies have a drink with us?" the engineer asked three women who lingered near the bar. The women were dressed to kill and insanely hot. They crowded over at the prospect of meeting the two handsome Fleet officers and getting free drinks.

Is it really this easy? Javier thought. He had gotten pointers that morning from Boyce and BHP but everything had just seemed to fall into place.

"Oh those uniforms are so cute," one of the women, a blond haired Trill, told Nils, "I'm Kyrie, I like that you guys aren't dressed like everyone else in here."

"That would just be dull," Javier admitted.

From the moment they rematerialized, a cold dread had settled in Nils' gut. His whispered protestations were ignored as Javier had forcefully maneuvered them into one of his worst nightmares - a party. Shyly and politely Nils had greeted the young women, and then more specifically Kyrie. His awkward and uncomfortable shuffling did nothing to dissuade the girls’ attention. A bartender, of a race Nils had never encountered, slammed five green opaque shots down on the bar. And despite his wordless refusals he found himself chugging the tart and somewhat spicy drink. It stung on the way down, but left a nice feeling afterwards. As if a layer of pain had been seared away with even more pain, leaving only a raw relief.

"Costala," Nils tried to protest casually. He got close to the engineer's ear. "I don't want to be here…"

"What's your name," the giggling Trill said putting herself between the Bajoran's legs. He cast an accusing glance at Javier.

"Costala…" he repeated, in earnest.

"Hi, Costala," Kyrie purred.

Javier slammed back his shot and then waited for a re-fill and knocked that one back too. He didn't really care what he was drinking, all alcohol had the same effect on him. "Good ole Costala," he said, slapping Nils on the back. "Ladies you are looking at one brave sonuvabitch," Javier continued, "I could sit here all night telling you how many times Costala has saved the ship but he's a humble soul and would get embarrassed easily." He grabbed the next glass that came his way. "Instead let's toast his valor." Javier raised his glass to Torrik and said, "To Costala." Grinning like an idiot, he drained the glass as cheers from the surrounding people rained down upon 'Costala'.

"Prophets," surrendered Nils, sinking onto a stool. He didn't want to be here. Social gatherings irked him, and his mood was as foul as a Targ's breath. But true to form, Javi had shaken his world and drawn him from himself. At least this time they'd refrained from a fist fight. "To Costala," echoed Nils, catching the human's eye. Upending his small shot glass, he spilled its contents down his throat, allowing it to do the magic it had done for countless beings on countless worlds through all recorded time - and probably a lot of unrecorded time.

"Have you really saved your starship," Kyrie asked snuggling up to the loosening Bajoran.

"Not half as many times as Cost… As… As Mister Torrik, here," Nils answered, allowing himself to smile. "Brilliant scientist, this man… Could calculate the dineutron loss in a carbon neutronium atom following a tritium fusion reaction without use of a tricorder…" Nils laughed at his own joke. No one else did. That made him laugh more. "He could postulate to the nano second the amount of time it would take for an Omega Molecule to form, disassociate, and annihilate a sector of subspace without use of the ship's main computer." The scientist felt himself growing a little hysterical. Clearly no one understood his attempts at humor. "He could…" he trailed off into a rare uninhibited laugh. "Bartender another round!" Finally the crowd responded with a hearty 'har har' and the booze continued to flow.

The engineer hadn't understood half of what Torrik had been saying; probably because of the beverage he was drinking but most likely because he didn't spend his free time reading Popular Quantum Mechanics. But he understood the words 'another round' and hammered on the bar until he got another shot. "Are you really as smart as Costala says you are?" one of the other women asked.

"Absolutely, absolutely, I can calculate an omega nanogram to the fourth power y then reverse it, subtract and tell you what it was before I started calculating," Javier told the woman, "and all while adding fractions." He looked at the shot glass and then asked the woman, "How many is this? Nevermind I hear music..go get Tor..go get Costala and dance, he's a great dancer!"

The brunette grabbed Nils hand and dragged him to a makeshift dance floor. Kyrie followed behind. "No nononoonono," Nils protested the length of the drag as they navigated around a vast diversity of species. "I don't dance," he said with a serious smile.

"I know you can," the brunette responded pressing herself against his body. "And in that tight uniform you'll look really cute. C'mon," she pleaded.

"C'mon, Costala," Kyrie said leaning into him from behind. Both women started bouncing in time to the music.

Nils was shell shocked. Gazing helplessly back to the bar, he shot Costala, the real Costala, an SOS expression. Still as a statue, the Bajoran stood between two frantically gyrating women. "I don't dance," he called to the man who'd sold him down the river, trying to shout over the music.

"So what do you do well?" the raven-haired member of the hotness trio asked Javier.

"I, 'scuse me," he replied catching site of Nils, "just move around a little more!" he yelled at the science officer. Javier turned back to the woman. I suppose I should tell her I'm in a relationship with someone and have a daughter. his brain said, but what came out of his mouth was: "I have sex a lot!" Javier paused and thought about what he had just admitted to, he emptied his shot glass.

"I suppose that's something to be proud of," she replied, "My name is Lisa by the way, would you like to dance?"

"Oh no, I'm Torrik Nils, I'm a terrible dancer," Javier answered, looking for another drink.

Just move around a little more. Nils told himself as he swayed slowly side to side. He bobbed his head a little in a wave form trying to match the approximate wavelength of the brunette in front of him. The green shots, however, disagreed with that choice. "No more," he barked and squeezed himself from beneath the two women. By the time he was back at the bar he had a drink in both hands, and a ridiculous smile on his face. "I found an extra," he said sincerely to his old buddy 'Torrik Nils'. "I think it was his." Closing one eye to aim his pointed finger, he gestured towards a large Klingon searching up and down the bar for his missing drink. "Now you get to have it." The light weight Bajoran could not hold his liquor.

"Ahhhh," Javier said and took the drink, his eyes were drawn to the dance floor before he could down it. "Oh look what you're missing Javier!" pointing to where Kyrie and the brunette were dancing together like they had been glued to one another. He slid off the barstool and kept going, finding a happy spot on the floor.

Watching the two women meshed and danced and blended into one another, Nils lost himself in the moment. "Fascinating," he said and he drifted back onto the dance floor.

Brought to you by two wahld ahnd carayzee gahs… Torrik Javier and Nils Costala!
Originally Posted 4/11/08 by Torrik Nils in "On Your Marks"


The party was in full swing and the dance floor was packed. It was the night before the big race and the race-goers were exuding nothing but laughter and excitement.

Jillian sat at a table near the back of the room staring across the dance floor at Nils. Jealousy coursed through her veins as he held some other woman in his arms. She physically cringed as the woman whispered something in his ear and he responded with a smile. Deciding that she needed to talk to him again, she headed across the floor.

“Don't do it, Sister.”

Jillian stopped as she felt Chris Hodges touch her arm.

“I have to talk to him…he said he couldn't be with me and yet there he is dancing with some…woman.”

“You can't push him.”

“Who is that he's with anyway?”

Laughing, Chris replied, “I don't think you have much to worry about, Jill. Nils would be the third recipient of her charms this evening. She's just a party flirt.”

Jillian sat back down and slammed another shot of Chech'tluth,

“Take it easy, Doc. A little liquid courage isn't going to make things easier”

She waved off his concern, “I'm fine. I just want to talk to him….”

Chris leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, “Jill…Let it go…Enjoy the party. Look at all this food!” he motioned towards the spread in front of them, “We never get eats like this."

"I've had a stomach ache for 3 days now, I can't eat a thing."

Chris rolled his eyes as he stuffed a piece of Jimbalian fudge cake into his mouth “…would you chill out about Peter Parker? He's made himself clear…love has to come second, duty comes first. The guy's not here to pick up girls. He's clearly been set-up, or ambushed..,” Chris grinned as he watched Torrik dance, “I mean…there's just no excuse for that.”

A smile crept across the right side of her face, “You're right.” Drunken confidence suddenly took over and once again Jillian was out of her seat and making her way towards the dancing Bajoran. Her throat suddenly felt dry and the knots in her stomach were tightening.

The attractive female Trill was the first to notice the determined doctor, she leaned in towards Nils chest and whispered, “Do you know that woman coming towards us?”
Originally Posted 4/15/08 by Jillian Munro


Generally speaking Nils didn’t like music. The theory behind it intrigued him. Tonal relationships and the synthesis of acoustics with rhythm made for interesting mathematical study, but relaxing to some tunes never crossed his mind. The droning beat pounding into the Bajoran’s chest lulled him into a trancelike state. His body pulsed naturally as he gave his intellect over to the liquid revenge coursing through his blood.

In fact, he was so lost to the drink and music that he totally missed what Kyrie had said. Her lips moved, and he responded with the obligatory smile and nod, but damned if he knew what she’d said. Nor did he care. Finding solace in complete abandon was a new and intoxicating experience for him. Javier Costala deserved his gratitude. Considering the weight life had set on his shoulders recently, losing and forgetting himself was just what the doctor ordered.

And suddenly the doctor was before him and in his face.

"Your broke my heart already, do you really need to rub it in my face?" Jillian’s expression was hurt and confused. The solace of his moment melted as he released the music. The weight of the world retook its place on his shoulders.

“I’m sure your pretty boy doctor will comfort you,” he emoted still lost to the effects of several shots. In his head, he heard his intellect screaming for him to shut up. He’d hurt her on the transport. But despite that quiet inner warning, his words still flew. “Or maybe this doctor could comfort you,” he slurrred gesturing towards the blonde man in the medical uniform stepping up behind Jillian. “You seem to have found an array of doctor comfort so…”

Unable to hold his tongue he turned to leave. He had absolutely no desire to hurt Jillian any more than he already had. Instead he retreated.

“Hey, where you going,” called Kyrie grabbing at his arm. “I thought you could come back to my quarters and…” Nils jerked his arm from her grasp which seemed to adequately shut her up. He didn’t stop moving until he’d stumbled his way to the nearest transporter room.
Originally Posted 4/15/08 by Torrik Nils


"Oh are you okay? You took quite a spill there," Lisa told Javier as she knelt down beside him, placing her hand on his arm.

"Yeah," the engineer replied as he looked around in surprise. The floor was new territory for him. Javier was still holding the drink Torrik Nils had handed him and had managed not to spill any of it. He was looking at a sea of legs, some pretty nice, others not so much. Javier made as if to stand up and Lisa helped him to his feet. On the way up he felt the woman press herself against his arm. "There, isn't that better," Lisa said as she leaned into his side as he stood by the bar, "of course, if you feel like sitting down or even laying down I know a place that would be more comfortable than the floor."

Javier wasn't paying attention to what the woman was going on about. "Maybe later..right now I have to see how Torr..Javier is..aw crap!" He noticed that Nils was dancing close to Kyrie and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Javier could also see Jillian Munro bearing down on Torrik.

Damage Control. Damage Control. the engineer thought as he lifted his hand to wave at Nils and warn his friend of the imminent danger that was fast approaching the science officer. He forgot he was still clutching the drink in his hand. "Toast!" someone yelled then a vise-like grip encased Javier's wrist and he looked up to find a Klingon glaring down at him.

"That is my drink!"

"Most likely, but you know what they say: you snooze, you lose," Javier replied, feeling extremely brave as he pushed Lisa away so he could reach up and take the drink with his other hand. "To the Empire!" Javier shouted before slamming the drink back. His eyeballs turned inside out as the drink hit his senses and for a moment the engineer could swear that the room was spinning on its own axis. He heard the Klingon roar in fury, then all manner of lights went off in his head.

He regained consciousness slowly, blinking repeatedly while shaking his head to try and regain his thoughts. "Your friend Costala ditched me," Kyrie said as she looked down at him.

"Oh..who?"

"Your friend Costala, his ex showed up and ruined everything."

"Okay..my friend Costala, and who am I?"

"You're Torrik Nils," Lisa answered, looking at him as her face creased with worry.

"Torrik Nils," he repeated, "catchy..and who are you?"
Originally Posted by Javier Costala 4/16/08


"Torrik Nils..it says he's the Executive Officer on the starship Hawking," Lisa told Kyrie as she read the information panel to Kyrie. They glanced back towards the bar, where their friend Tara was keeping an eye on the blitzed officer. "Hawking? Aren't they the crew that were supposed to crew that older ship..the antique?"

Kyrie shrugged, she could care less about what ship he was on. He's an Executive Officer. the woman thought as she looked Torrik Nils over. He's not any Costala but I suppose I could convince Lisa to go look for his friend while I..

"I found the listing for the ship's comm channels," Lisa informed her. "The Constitution? Talk about a boring name, why don't they just call it the USS OldRubberTire?" She shook her head and went through the listings. "Here's the captain's commchannel..but that would get him into trouble." She scrolled through the possibilities until she found two that would best help the officer. "Okay there's a Doctor Jillian Munro..but her status is set to unavailable..as are most of the medical staff. There's a counselor on call, she's part of medical but.." Lisa hesitated. Counselors could be trouble in this case. She turned to her friend for advice but found Kyrie undressing the officer with her eyes. "Counselor it is," she said, tapping the commchannel insignia. Lisa heard the counselor answer. T'Shaini, sounds Vulcan and Vulcans can be stuffy..I hope I'm doing the right thing here.

«»Hello, this is Lisa Madden, I'm at the party at the station and one of your ship's officers, Torrik Nils is…well he's had a little too much to drink and he got punched by a Klingon. He's having trouble remembering who he is and,«» Lisa turned to look at Kyrie but her friend was making her way towards Torrik. That sneaky little… Lisa thought before realizing she was on an open commchannel. «»and I don't want him to get into trouble, he's really sweet.«» she said.

T'Shaini had just stepped off the transporter pad, trying not to hold on the edge of her skirt to keep it in place, when the call came through. Uniform forgotten, she tapped her badge….or where her badge should be, then reached for her belt and fumbled with the unwieldy communicator. =^=Thank you Lisa, I am on my way.=^=

The counselor stepped into the main room, her gaze sweeping across the assembled partygoers, one good thing about these uniforms…they stand out in a crowd. Having learned of the rift between he and Jillian from Jillian herself she could hazard a guess where this out of character behavior came from. Once he sobers up I will schedule a session with him. She winced as the picture of his likely reaction to that suggestion flashed before her face. Oddlly interested in viewing the dour Bajoran in his cups heightened her search, but seemingly to no avail. T'Shaini retrieved her communicator to attempt to contact Lisa and determine their whereabouts when she caught a glimpse of the red of a Constitution uniform, as the path was cleared before her she observed that it was not Nils but Javier….well, he is likely to know where Nils is. Raising her hand, then quickly lowered it as it became obvious that any movement made her hemline higher she called out to him. "Javier."

"Those uniforms are outrageous," the man was telling him, "I can't believe they made you wear them..my name in Finch by the way, Lieutenant Eoghan Finch, helmsman." The officer extended his hand and 'Torrik' shook it firmly.

"Delighted, I'm Torrik Nils," Javier replied as he smiled at Finch and teetered slightly. Lisa was quick to steady him.

"He's the Executive Officer of the Hawking," Kyrie added, smiling up at the officer. Someone called out to someone named 'Javier' and they all turned to find a woman in a short, red skirt looking at them expectantly. "Wasn't Costala's first name Javier?" Lisa asked. 'Torrik' thought about it for a moment. "I think so, that sounds 'bout right." Damn, she's hot..that Costala is one lucky guy. 'Torrik' found himself thinking as he studied the woman's outfit and how it accentuated her curves.

T'Shaini tipped her head to one side and looked at Javier…who was not looking at her face. Sighing, she waved her hand in front of his face. "Javier, I see that you are busy…but do you know where Nils is? I received a call that he was in need of attention."

"Costala left," Kyrie piped up, not liking this new contender. "But you must be the one I called," Lisa added, pushing Kyrie to the side politely, "this is Torrik Nils and he's having a rough night."

As if to highlight her point, 'Torrik' chose that moment to introduce himself to the lady in the skirt. "Hi, I'm Torrik Nils," he said with a smile, his eyes lingering on hers before they started to drop again.

Oh dear gods, Lisa did say 'Torrik' had been hit by a Klingon… T'Shaini caught his chin with her hand before his gaze could fall any lower and looked him in the eyes. "Hello Nils," The counselor said gently. "T'Shaini, counselor of the Hawking." She did not want to push him if it were some sort of amnesia, but also it was more than clear that he had had too much to drink. Looking up to the young woman who had contacted her she asked. "Is N…Javier Costala still here?" It was worth a shot, if he was Nils, Nils must be Javier.

"No, his friend had some sort of an altercation with a lady.." Lisa started to explain before Kyrie cut in, "This crazy woman just showed up and unloaded on him about breaking her heart and all while I was standing right there. Honestly, she had her own date with her, why did she have to come and try to take mine?"

The woman's voice sounded familiar and her touch, just the light press of her hand to his face was enough to bring back some thoughts. I've been with this woman..with Costala's woman! Before he knew what was happening 'Torrik' dove straight in, taking her hand and pulling the woman's body against his own as he kissed her.

T'Shaini slid easily into his embrace. Whatever the manner of expressing his return to himself she welcomed it…perhaps more than she should have in public. She withdrew slightly to smile, brushing her lips against his once more before she spoke. "Perhaps we should return to the Constitution now."

"Not again," Kyrie hissed and was about to say something else when Lisa nudged her hard in the ribs.

"You are T'Shaini," 'Torrik' said as images of the woman filled his thoughts. "We do this a lot," he admitted before leaning in again to press his lips to hers, suddenly he pulled back and exclaimed, "We have sex a lot!" The pieces of the puzzle began to fit together.

T'Shaini felt her face grow hot with embarrassment even as laughter bubbled up from deep within. Trying to pull him away from the small crowd they surrounded by she nodded. "Yes, yes we do…" This would be so much easier to handle in private.

"We should go do that now," he suggested, allowing T'Shaini to lead him.

At this point it was likely that she would have agreed to dance with a hippo to get Javier back on the Constitution and sort this out, so his suggestion was perfectly suitable. "Yes we should." She tugged a little harder on his hand, guiding him toward the transporter room.

He followed behind T'Shaini trying not to stare at her legs. Glancing around, he noticed a small, furry, blue creature with numerous arms and a large mouth. Pev. 'Torrik' thought as he recognized the officer. Getting the old engine banging away on all six cylinders.. he thought as he remembered the words Pev had said to him. "Pev! I'm banging away on all six cylinders.." he called out before T'Shaini dragged him from the room.

JP with T'Shaini, who thinks she is going to find Torrik Nils but is really looking for Javier Costala, and Javier who thinks he's Torrik Nils and a couple of npcs who want Javier AKA Torrik Nils to come back to the party. Confusing enough?
Originally Posted 4/16/08 by Javier Costala


*Takes Place before Jillian’s Medlab Post*

::USS Constitution::
::Random Corridor::

Tatiana tugged on the hem of the uniform and for her efforts, she stumbled forward. She shifted and in response, her arm shot out to break her fall. She hissed as pain shot up through her leg caused by the strangle angle that she was in. She wanted to rub the spot that hurt, but the uniform that she had on made it impossible to do so without exposing her goods. She looked around to see if anyone saw her blunder, and she cleared her throat before straightening herself. Tatiana took a tiny step forward and then another watching her feet as she limped down the corridor.

Once she gained enough confidence in her step, her pace quickened. She may have looked handicapped in her style of walking, but she had to get to Sickbay to fix her leg. Her pace was steady until her mind registered a strange sensation.

She stopped.

She could feel air. She looked down at her stocking-legs; no, she didn’t feel the air on her thighs. She tried to look over her shoulders as she took a few test steps forward. Nothing. She picked up speed and felt air swoosh across her backside. She stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off her irritation. Her uniform was too short. Again. Someone had to be playing a joke on her, or her measurements had to be wrong. The length of the uniform was questionable to begin with, but with bad measurements, the uniform was bordering on indecent.

“This is degrading,” she growled and used both hands to pull down the blue dress as she waddled towards Sickbay. She wanted someone to explain to her how anyone could do their job while women were walking around like partly pornographic fodder for mindless men.

"I see why Kirk was such a slut," she muttered as she walked on.

::USS Constitution::
::Sickbay::

“Bramley!” she called out, once she was inside. The Ensign let go of the dress and limped to the free biobed. The archaic design of the item caught her attention, and she found herself staring at it with a frown.

“Thorne, you missed the Staff Meeting,” Bramley informed her.

“Yeah, I had uniform issues and then an accident. I need you to look at my leg,” she explained, “I think I pulled something.” She winced as she put her weight down on her hurt leg and jumped up onto the biobed.

Bramley returned with a medkit, and Tatiana groaned, “Oh, man, we’re using old medkits too?”

He smiled and opened it, “I smuggled in a few tools.”

She grinned stupidly, and commented, “I never thought I’d find nostalgia annoying, but I have. Everything would be so much better if we didn’t have to wear these ridiculous uniforms.”

Bramley ran a tricorder down her leg, “You have a slight pull, nothing major. The pain will go away.” He put his stash back in the medkit, “I didn’t think you’d want to be part of the race.”

“Honestly, I thought we’d get a current ship, but I’d like to see if the old girl can kick some ass,” she slid off the biobed, “She better, or wearing this lovely piece of hand-towel would have been for nothing.”
Originally Posted 4/16/08 by Tatiana Thorne


The Megiddo Regatta - Yesteryear

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