USS Charon

Re: CHAYA I MISS YOU

2012-01-04T04:12:00.001-05:00

LOL I was worried, but it's ok we thought as much with all that stuff going on. Glad to see you're OK though :) I was half tempted to leave a message in Romulan but I wondered if that might get lost in translation :) I have a surprise for you and the others going out at the end of this week (well I will send you sooner you can be editor in chief for this ;) )

On Wed, Jan 4, 2012 at 12:59 AM, Nicole DeSance <I-Chaya@msn.com> wrote:

Randomly found my number? Do I even want to know how you managed that?

Anyways, my face must have been priceless when I listened to my messages after coming home. Yes, I was abroad for a little while and I do apologize for giving no prior warning that I'd go off the grid for some time - it's been three months from hell and now that I finally am catching breath I realize I probably caused some people to worry

Please tell Tav and Jake I said hello (and will try to email them soon, my two attempts to locate anyone on IRC were probably badly timed). I hope you're all doing well and yes, I'd be very interested in writing with you guys again once I'm settled back in and am done eating every scrap of German food in sight.

Wishing you a very happy new year in the meantime

Nicole

----- Original Message -----

From: Thomas Sahm

To: Nicole DeSance

Subject: CHAYA I MISS YOU

:( Hope you're having a great holiday. Me tav and a few others doing a charon writing group if you are ever interested.

Rebirth of Charon

2011-11-25T09:18:00.001-05:00

In a sense. I'm still very busy but as a casual writing group for awhile will be fun, no? The novella is now a novel and it will be done by Christmas as an e-book :D

[USS Charon] The End of Charon as a Sim

2011-09-03T10:22:00.000-04:00

Hey Guys,

I want to inform everyone that the Charon will be closing its doors as a sim by the 24th of September. I spoke to Jazza a few weeks ago about this and some of you privately. The sim has not been a sim for some time. This is entirely my fault- I have not had the time to contribute to it and should have handed it off to someone a long time ago- but that time has clearly passed.

I want to apologize to the remaining and previous crew-to all those whose expectations of logs and activity I have failed. I am truly sorry for wasting your time. I hope you find good homes in UCIP because any sim would be blessed to have any one of you.

I will also be sending out a finale novella of Shiarrael's last storyline in UCIP. The collection of logs I have been holding onto will be condensed into a PDF file (currently about 70 pages) and sent out before the sim officially ends. I hope many of you will choose to remain on the list long enough to receive that.

As for the Charon this will not be the end- simply a new beginning. It will continue as a small writing group of friends. A lot of our lives have become busy and our schedules make it difficult but some us of still have the itch. If any of you would be interested in joining this small group just send me an email- it will not be sim structured but simply free writing. Or if you simply wish to observe it for nostalgia.

Finally I want to say thank you to I-Chaya (Nicole DeSance) for without her the Charon would have been nothing long ago. She is best writer I have ever had the pleasure of working with and better person. It is because of her that I was inspired to do animal rescue work and help founded the Alabama SPCA...in just 7 months we have saved over 300 animals alone (I guess she is also responsible for where all my time went!!! :P ). You have been great. "Khnai'ru rhissiuy arham daehlen." "Dif tor heh smusma."

Anyways- thank you for a great time everyone. It was certainly fun. I also hope you will read the finale- it is a culmination of our joint work over the past 3 years and perhaps my last post as a member of UCIP. Who knows if I will ever have the time for this again.

With Sincere Love and Admiration,

Your Former Captain
Shiarrael t'Rehu
or Thomas Sahm

p.s if you need to reach me my primary email address is now thomas@alspca.org which I check very frequently

--
Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon
www.usscharon.com

[USS Charon] SD241108.14 || "Playing in the Game" - Marquis Edward Zalanis (NPC)

2011-08-15T00:36:00.000-04:00

“Playing in the Game”
________________________________

“News travels so quickly these days.” A fine silver tea cup touched his lips as he sipped an exquisite black tea procured by his ever resourceful personal assistant. “I assume the information is…reliable?”

“Reliable yes. Outdated perhaps. The information is several hours old. Events do indeed move quickly sir. Obtaining timely information on Romulan activities has and continues to be something of a challenge.”

Thunder rumbling in the distance foretold a coming storm. Weather modification networks did not extend to the remote locale of the Zelanis estate. There would be no protection from the coming storm’s fury, but then again, the master of the family preferred it this way.

Gazing out the large windows that comprised the wall of the dining hall he watched the clouds growing in size as darkness reached out across his domain. “I expect there are few things beyond your grasp August.”

“You flatter me sir. Mine is only to serve the Zelanis family when and wherever possible.”

“Indeed. Do we know more?”

“Not at this time. Our contacts on this matter are only in the position to observe and report. Details are sometimes difficult to obtain.”

“Hmm. I do not like it.”

“The storm? Would the master prefer the curtains drawn for the evening?”

“No. Leave them open. The scenery is appropriate given current matters. The coming storm outside may foreshadow dark events which have yet to reveal themselves. This news is unsettling. Recent events feel contrived and unnatural. I sense puppeteers manipulating events and people with various strings at their disposal.”

“Whatever do you mean sir?”

“I cannot say. It is merely a feeling at present. Yet I cannot dismiss it. Why would the Romulans wish to escalate tensions? Why flirt with the possibility of open hostilities between the Empire and the Federation? Neither has anything to gain. Taking a Federation diplomat hostage gives them a pawn – but to what end? They cannot hope for anything other than stalemate or worse against the Federation even as corrupt and soft as it has become since the last war.”

Another sip of tea revealed its bitter notes hidden behind its otherwise enjoyable flavor.

“Do we know the name of the Ambassador involved in these matters? There are so many of them these days.”

“The contact does not have a name, but we did receive an image. Quality is poor given the transmission method, but I believe the computer may be able to enhance and identify.”

Zelanis continued to sip his tea and turned in his chair to face the wood paneled wall of the dining hall that bore his family’s coat of arms. August produced a pad and with several deft wrist motions the expensive, highly polished wood slid away to reveal a large screen displaying a grainy image of what appeared to be a male and female.

“Who is the woman?”

“Unknown at this time. I’ve instructed the computer to enhance the image.”

The screen flickered as the computer rapidly worked to reconstruct the image. A clatter reverberated throughout the massive dining hall as a silver tea cup hit the marble floor dropped from its owner’s hand.

“Sir! Are you…”

Zelanis stared at the image with a momentary expression of disbelief. “Fate is an unpredictable force that never ceases to amaze me. And so the puzzle begins to take shape. Ian Lamont. How did you of all people become a piece in this particular puzzle?”

Zelanis stood tossing his linen napkin onto the long rectangular table which filled the length of the room with its antique spendor. “Twenty years have passed and once again the Lamont family returns to some measure of prominence in galactic events. How interesting. I believe my feelings were justified. If we know of this then we can assume others do as well. If that is the case old rivals and enemies will soon rise like the undead from old graves; hungry for the blood of the last of the noble and distinguished Lamont family line.

Ian. What have you gone and gotten yourself into? I wonder?”

“Can we send a message to our contacts on Romulus?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. We need more information however certain actions may need to be taken. Inform our people to standby for further instructions.”

“At once sir. I will see to it personally.”

“August?”

“Yes sir”, the servant replied with his usual calm.

“The tea this evening was most excellent. Have the kitchen procure an additional supply.”

The man nodded and left the master alone in the hall.

Zelanis stared at the image of the Ambassador on the wall as a thin grin formed on his lips.

“It would appear you have found your way back into the game Lamont. Let us hope you can play it with far more mastery than did your father. This should be quite amusing. Quite amusing indeed.”

A flash of lightning brightly illuminated the room as the storm outside finally reached the Zelanis estate. The following clap of thunder only partially obscured the laughing competing with its sounds in the dining hall.

To Be Continued…

_______________________________________

Marquis Edward Zelanis, Earth

August Sarentine, Zelanis Family Servant

[USS Charon] [USS CORSAIR] - SD241108.07 || "New Orders" - Cpt. Taverain Ramius

2011-08-08T01:27:00.000-04:00

U.S.S. Corsair - NX-011979
Nebula II Prototype
“Sic Parvis Magna”
(Greatness From Small Beginnings)

“New Orders”
________________________________

Personal Log…

I have had no solid leads on NeoDyne activity in over two months. It is if the organization’s criminal activities have simply ceased to exist. Reliable informants have seen or heard nothing. Even a shakedown of a minor underworld figure produced no new leads. I do not understand how so many trails cold or otherwise have simply vanished into aether. And yet, the company’s legitimate businesses continue to operate in plain, public view. Who knows what darkness they shelter? I can only imagine and that pales in comparison to what I have seen with my own eyes. My own mind and heart cannot fathom the utter blackness and evil that infests the core of the NeoDyne Corporation and its vile chief executives. I sometimes wonder if those capable of such atrocities are mortal men. Perhaps they are demons masquerading as such in the world of the living. Man, beast, or otherwise – I care little. My body and mind are committed to one solitary goal – the destruction of NeoDyne and its leader. Only then can I rest. Only then can the universe be spared from the horrific goals they continue to silently work upon. Only then can justice be served and perhaps even revenge realized for what they have done to my brother, me, and hundreds and if not thousands of other poor souls who have found themselves caught in their inescapable web.

Yet, the veil of darkness that has descended appears impenetrable. Without leads I am powerless to investigate. My special status within Starfleet Intelligence becomes more fragile by the day. They demand progress on monitoring and eventually exposing any illegal NeoDyne activities. They have a vested interest in keeping tabs on one of the galaxy’s largest corporations. Without carrots to dangle before hungry admirals I have nothing to keep them interested. If I were to lose their support I fear my goal of seeing NeoDyne’s evil purged from threatening the living would die like the final embers of a fading fire. Their schemes would eventually reach fruition and then it would be too late to stop them. It may be too late already…I must find some new information. If they have become so dedicated to covering their tracks then I must find a soft spot, a weakness, exploit it, and force them to let slip a few more secrets to keep me in the game. If that is the only option left to me then the question changes to where one should one attempt to strike a snake without being bitten by its venomous fangs. Where indeed.”

Ramius sighed. With recent trouble between the Federation, Vulcan, and the Romulan Empire – things in intelligence were anything but quiet. He had been forced to run errands for Intelligence trying to find evidence and clues about the recent attack on the Vulcan homeworld the Romulans were blaming on a single, insane Romulan admiral. His so called Momento Mori was designed to completely destroy the Vulcan people. Intelligence had him chasing ghosts across two quadrants searching for anything that could give them additional leverage in the current crisis. That left little time for him to investigate NeoDyne leads, but such was their fragile agreement. He was their pawn in all matters of the underworld. His soul seemed to swim within its dark waters forever linked with the criminal underground of the galaxy. Ramius was their dark, shadowy ambassador where no other Starfleet officer could tread. Like a fallen angel, the darkness of the underworld was his exclusive domain. He was given the means and the power to navigate its treacherous and turbulent waters and in exchange for providing certain services outside of official channels he was given freedom to track, observe, and pursue his enemies as he saw fit so long as he passed along what he uncovered in the process. It was a difficult alliance fraught with danger, but one that had proved beneficial and valuable to the few who knew of its existence.

“Captain to the bridge.” Ramius looked up from his musings at the sudden communication from his first officer. “Computer, pause and save log entry.” Ramius stood from his chair and straightened his uniform. Perhaps fate would assist him in his time of need. Even a blind individual in a darkened room could find its exit with enough determination, patience, and effort.

“You owe me one fate”, Ramius said out loud as a tiny smile formed on his lips. “Let us see what you have up your sleeve for me this day.”

Ramius left his ready room and emerged onto the bridge. His first officer, Alanis Novada, rose at his appearance and vacated the command chair standing at firm attention as the captain took his seat.

“Status number one?”

“We have received new orders from Starfleet Intelligence. We are to postpone our current mission and proceed beyond the Neutral Zone to the Romulan home planet – Romulus.”

Ramius’s eyebrow twitched slightly upwards but his expression remained unchanged. “Continue.”

“Intelligence wants us to monitor the situation. The Federation has dispatched the USS Charon to Romulus to investigate the recent death of a Starfleet Admiral additionally its diplomatic staff will be engaging the Romulan government to discuss recent events. We should consider them something of a special envoy acting on behalf of the Federation President.”

“The Charon? Why does that ship’s path seem to cross ours on a regular basis? Her captain is Romulan. Perhaps someone is gambling her past will be of some specific use? How interesting.”

Novada continued. “We are authorized to use our cloaking device for the duration of our mission. Under no circumstances are we to be detected or observed. They made it quite clear we would be disavowed should something occur.”

“Anything else, commander?”

“We are ordered only to observe the situation and gather as much passive intelligence as possible. We are to be a silent witness to whatever transpires and are ordered to take no actions beyond surveillance.”

“Hmm. They send us on errands across the quadrant and now this? I wonder. If they are willing to risk our presence then perhaps this situation is far graver than I was aware. Conflict with the Star Empire would not be in our best interest. It would only provide additional cover and shelter for those I hunt.”

Ramius tapped controls on his armrest. “Captain to engineering. How soon can you have the Corsair’s little wonder operational? We’ll need use of it for an extended period so it needs to be functioning perfectly as we cannot risk detection.”

“Well, I might need to wipe the dust off, but she’s ready sir. Give me an hour to run some checks and I’ll have our wonder purring sir.”

“Understood. Keep me posted.”

“Commander, please work with engineer Kusinagi and coordinate any outstanding engineering preparations. If we are going to be in Romulan territory I don’t want any surprises. We also need to identify Romulan communication relays along our path as we will need to piggy back our communications upon their signals to avoid detection.”

“Consider it done sir.”

“Ops, run a level 1 diagnostic on all ship’s emissions. Report any anomalies to engineering. We’ll need to rig ourselves for silent running and I don’t want a leaky plasma vent giving away our presence not that the Romulans will be expecting us, but let’s not so easily tip our hand.

Helm, estimated time to the Romulan Neutral Zone from our present location?”

“Plotting course. ETA is five hours at warp six. Set course and engage at warp eight.”

Ramius pressed the fingers of his hands together as the crew executed their orders and made preparations for their upcoming mission. This mission took him away from investigating NeoDyne, but it had certain facets that could be of some use in the future. It was also a dangerous mission which is why it had been given to him and the Corsair. It was a task suited to them and them alone given their unique talents and abilities.

In any event, the mission was likely to prove interesting. Surveillance or not, he had a feeling they were being moved onto the chess board for reasons other than taking mere pictures. Would they be used as knights he wondered? The Corsair was too valuable to risk only as a mere pawn. Something was going on. He only needed to discover what that was with the breadcrumbs he had been fed. He enjoyed a challenge.

A diversion from chasing cold NeoDyne leads suddenly seemed welcome. Where would it lead him, the Corsair, and his small crew of pirates? They would soon find out.

________________________________

Captain Taverain Ramius

Commanding Officer, USS Corsair

Commander Alanis Novada

Executive Officer

Commander Sai Kusinagi

Chief Engineer

[USS Charon] SD241108.05 || Duty Log || "Diplomatic Warfare - Part 3" - Ambassador Ian Lamont

2011-08-05T03:19:00.000-04:00

“Diplomatic Warfare – Part 3”
________________________________

“Ambassador, do you believe the Romulans have forgotten about us?”

“Absolutely not”, Lamont barked. They were playing games again. It had been nearly two hours since they had adjourned from talks. Again the Romulans were stalling, but for what purpose? What did they hope to gain? Did they believe frustration and impatience could somehow play to their advantage? No. Of course not. They knew he was not a first year cadet and yet they persisted with behavior that rivaled the Klingon’s treatment of diplomatic officials.

He drummed his fingers on the table. Perhaps a test of will? Fine. If they wished to play such a childish game he would beat them at it.

[ Two hours later… ]

“Do you know much of the Romulan homeworld”, Lt. Lumendale asked as Lamont gazed out of the room’s large windows at the Romulan sunset.

“Affirmative lieutenant. Much of my early studies were on Romulan custom, language, and society. This is an ancient place steeped or rather mired, depending on your view, in long standing traditions.”

“Mired? That is an interesting choice of words sir.”

“A personal observation only lieutenant. The Romulans are a fascinating people in many ways, however their society is shackled to a past born from conflict, blood, and rivalry. Power, honor, and prestige are everything. Romulan honor, or what is referred to as Mnhei’Sahe, is a sacred personal code of sorts. It is difficult to explain let alone understand for one who is not of this world. I am not sure that I fully comprehend the deep, personal meaning that Mnhei’Sahe has for many Romulans and the society at large. It is an intriguing, if not elusive concept. Defining it is akin to describing this sunset with all of its colors, its warmth, the way it makes you feel and act, to a computer whose view of the world is purely cold and logical.”

Lamont looked at Alexia and offered the lieutenant a smile. “I believe I have strayed from your original question. My apologies.”

“Oh no, sir, please continue.”

Lamont’s smile faded at the lieutenant’s words. “Indeed I would enjoy that however now is not the time. We were sent here to talk to the Romulans however they have made it clear they are in no mood to reciprocate. I believe we have waited above and beyond the threshold of diplomatic courtesy. I was hoping to avoid this, but expected it nonetheless. It appears it has come time to take off the gloves, put aside the niceties and courtesy, and play diplomatic hardball.”

“Hardball sir?”

“Old old Earth metaphor lieutenant. Shall we attempt to locate our Romulan hosts and ask them if they would care to join us for dinner? While I’m not sure I would ever tire of this view, a change of venue aboard the Charon would give me the home court advantage for what it is worth.”

“Should I contact the Charon and have them make preparations?”

“Not just yet. Let us first see if my esteemed counterparts will entertain the idea before we expend any additional efforts. Come along lieutenant. I don’t fancy wandering Romulan government buildings alone.”

Lamont and Lumandale left the conference room, but to their surprise there was no attendant to be found.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be someone here to attend to our every need?”

“So we were told. I wonder. This way lieutenant. There must be someone nearby we can speak with.”

The pair made their way farther into the massive Romulan building however there was not a soul to be found. Offices, rooms, and hallways Lamont assumed would be crowded with people were vacant. Something was amiss.

“Is it me Ambassador or do you also feel uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable is hardly the correct word lieutenant, but it will do for now. I grow tired of playing schoolyard games. I believe we are done here.”

“Lamont to Charon. Two for transport.”

No response was forthcoming.

“Lamont to Charon? Transporter room, come in over?”

“Lieutenant, try your communicator?”

Lumendale signaled and was met by silence. “Perhaps the building is blocking the signal?”

“Doubtful. We beamed in just fine. I do not see why it would be so much harder to leave unless of course someone wants us to remain.”

“You don’t mean…”

“I have no facts lieutenant and only a few hastily derived theories to explain our current circumstances. We should avoid premature assumptions. However I do have growing concerns on the matter of our immediate safety. Let us return to the conference room for now.”

Lamont firmly took the lieutenant’s hand as they retreated back down the hallway from which they had ventured. The pair reached an intersection in the hallway that was devoid of markings or identifiable objects.

“Was it right or left sir?”

Lamont inwardly cursed at himself for not being more careful. The plain, undecorated hallway offered few clues as to their prior route and he was finding himself in doubt over which direction was correct.

“It was left. This way lieutenant.” Lumendale followed and after several moments the pair found themselves emerging into a grand, palatial hall filled with banners, majestic brooding statues, and fine art. At the center of the hall, a giant, eagle like bird of prey spread its orange wings across the dark stone beneath their feet. It was truly impressive and was also decidedly not the correct route back to the conference room. Lamont couldn’t help but marvel at the impressive architecture.

“I think we should have gone right Ambassador.”

“I hate to admit it, but I believe you may be…”, Lamont was unable to complete his sentence as dozens of security personnel seemingly appeared from thin air pouring from places unknown until the Ambassador and lieutenant were completely surrounded.

“Who are you! What are you doing here”, an officer gruffly shouted in a Romulan dialect Lamont did not immediately recognize. The man’s questions were however quite clear.

Lamont couldn’t help but smirk. It was so obvious to him now. Had he been naïve to believe the Romulans would play the game by the rules of engagement? Perhaps. In any event, debating his decisions would not change matters now.

“Why we’re on the tour”, Lamont replied with a smile. “Such a lovely building you have here! Not nearly enough restrooms however. Might I inquire as to their location? My companion here would like to freshen up before our interrogation, incarceration, and trial.”

The soldier was taken aback by the Ambassador’s wit.

“Don’t stand there and look surprised Centurion”, Lamont barked. “You are here to arrest us are you not? Wait! Let me guess the charges – espionage, subterfuge, trespassing? Am I getting warm?”

“Silence human”, the Centurion shouted. “You are trespassing on sovereign Romulan property. Your intent is quite clear Ambassador. Your sole goal was to gather intelligence on key Romulan political figures. Who is your target? The Praetor himself perhaps? You mentioned that name many times today. Perhaps you were here for more than mere theft. Perhaps it was assassination?”

“Assassination!? We are Federation diplomatic officers here at the request of the Romulan Senate! We are not…”

Lamont gripped the lieutenant with a firm hand indicating his strong desire for her to remain silent. Alexia instantly fell silent despite the growing sense of dread expanding in the pit of her stomach.

“No small talk, no chit chat? That is the trouble with Romulans these days – they no longer take the time to talk. Or smile even? Where is that classic Romulan insincerity? No subterfuge, no games? I mean are we really going to go straight to an arrest?”

Lamont’s wit ended as the butt of a disruptor rifle caught him square on the back knocking him to his knees. Wincing in pain and struggling to regain his breath the ambassador looked upwards at the Centurion.

“Your wit, Ambassador, is sharp, however its edge is lost upon the ears of a soldier. Perhaps it will serve you better with those in the Tal’Shiar. I am sure they will find two Federation spies quite amusing.”

Lamont coughed once before returning to his feet to look the Centurion in the eyes.

“Well at least now we are getting somewhere. I take it our conversation with the Proconsul is at an end?”

“Follow me Ambassador. If you attempt to escape you will regret the decision.”

“Well the tour was short. I can’t say it was worth the admission price, but the facility does have its finer points. Wouldn’t you agree lieutenant?”

“Ambassador…I..”

“We shouldn’t keep our hosts waiting my dear. I expect they have a great deal to discuss now that they are finally interesting in talking to us.”

Lamont again took the lieutenant’s hand which had lost its warmth having become cold and clammy. He gave it a squeeze to offer the lieutenant silent reassurance. She was terrified…so was he, but neither of them could display any weakness given the rapid turn of events. Lamont would continue with wit, now his only weapon, in a game that had just become far more dangerous than even he had anticipated.

“Quite the army Centurion”, Lamont remarked as they were led down a hallway toward an unknown destination. “I believe I am honored that so many soldiers were needed to apprehend such a dangerous threat as myself and the lieutenant. Do you often arrest foreign dignitaries?”

The Centurion stiffened and turned to face the Ambassador. “You are playing a dangerous game human. For your sake and that of the human woman’s, I suggest you keep your tongue on a leash. Take it as a bit of diplomatic advice.”

Lamont cracked a wry grin as the two men stared at one another; intensity dancing within their eyes. “I’ll take it under advisement”, Lamont answered coolly. “I appreciate the tip.”

The Centurion turned and ordered them to follow. Lamont looked over his shoulder at the half dozen armed soldiers escorting them. What a perfect mess. Arrested. Soon to be interrogated and jailed. Would Captain Rehu even miss him in a few hours? Would she bother with a rescue attempt? Would she bother at all?

It mattered not. The Romulans had him. The arrest of a Federation diplomat, the Federation’s special envoy no less, on bogus charges of espionage would greatly complicate matters. He had gone from a knight to nothing more than a hapless pawn in a game he no longer controlled. However, all was not completely lost. The playing field was slowly coming into view and its chess pieces were slowly beginning to show themselves. Pawns could force checkmate the same as knights – it was only that much harder to achieve. For now all he could do was wait and watch for opportunities to move. He may have lost his control of the game, but he was still a player in it and as long as that held true the opportunity to seize the advantage once again still remained.

[ To Be Continued… ]

________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont

Lt. Alexia Lumendale

[USS Charon] SD241108.05 || Duty Log || "Diplomatic Warfare - Part 2" - Ambassador Ian Lamont

2011-08-05T03:08:00.000-04:00

“Diplomatic Warfare – Part 2”
________________________________

Two large and ornate doors parted as a stately Ambassador Lamont and determined aide, Lt. Alexia Lumendale made their way through the grand entrance and into a conference room. The room was adorned with various Romulan motifs and artwork. A long rectangular table with many chairs was a match for the large, rectangular room which at its end had several large windows overlooking the capital city. Several shuttles or what the Romulans referred to as flitters silently whisked past the windows to destinations unknown.

Lamont slowed his stride and came to a stop as the lieutenant nearly stepped past him. Ian subtly extended a few fingers which were enough to stop the attentive lieutenant. The doors to the hall closed behind them as three figures at the far end of the table abruptly halted their conversation and stood to receive their visitors. Ian had managed to catch a few words of the men’s conversation before being noticed. It was only a few words, but their tone told him something about the men and their demeanor. Information, however sparse or seemingly trivial, was useful to those properly attuned. An assistant, or armed guard, if Lamont had to ascribe a description, stepped past the Federation delegates to address his superiors.

“Proconsul I’Sarian, Senators - Ambassador Ian Lamont to see you as instructed.”

“Ah yes…Ambassador Lamont. Welcome to Romulus. I sincerely apologize for the delays. Recent events have made the Senate a…lively place these past few weeks. Please..won’t you join us?” Lamont respectful bowed and approached. “I was informed you would be alone Ambassador. Might I ask the name and function of your guest?”

Lamont smiled. It was insincere, but then the Romulans knew this. The game had begun in earnest and the first move had been made. “This is Lieutenant Alexia Lumendale. She is a trusted and gifted associate. Please do not let her presence concern you. asked her here as a resource for us all and to help ensure our conversations are as productive as possible.”

Lumendale bowed slightly, but said nothing. As she should. Good, Lamont mused. She was hopefully one less variable he would need to account for.

I’Sarian nodded. “Lieutenant, Ambassador. As I was saying. Welcome. Please have a seat. We have much to discuss.”

[ THREE HOURS LATER ]

“What would you have us do Ambassador? Surrender the Empire to the Federation? Should we lay down at your feet and welcome Federation starships across our borders with open arms? I stipulate the incident was unfortunate and tragic, but Admiral tr'Sahen acted on his own accord. His actions were not known or sanctioned by anyone within the Romulan government.”

“Are all Admirals given such wide operational latitudes? Assembling a task force of warships to attack the Vulcan homeworld was and is no small feat Proconsul. No one questioned the Admiral’s activities and orders? No suspicions were voiced? Was he truly so masterful at manipulating people, equipment, and obtaining weapons of mass destruction? These are the questions my superiors are asking in addition to incessant demands for answers. If Tr’Sahen could so easily obtain such power what is to say another does not have similar plans for Vulcan or perhaps even Earth?”

“The matter is being looked into Ambassador, but our investigation will require time. Your questions, while predictable, are unfounded. The Romulan government grants its assurance this was an isolated and unfortunate incident. Romulan flag officers do not make policy; that duty is reserved by the Senate and the Praetor. We are conducting an internal review of the incident and will share our findings in due course. Such unprecedented openness between our governments should be enough to calm the anxiety of your people which must fear us a great deal to react so strongly to such an isolated event.”

“Those I represent have not expressed any fear of the Empire sir. They have, however, expressed deep anger and resentment at Romulus’s tepid attention to a serious breach of intergalactic trust and peace. Anger if not addressed can spread and intensify. Unchecked anger can lead to sparks and sparks can bring forth fire. Neither of us wishes to fight such a fire – the costs would be disastrous to all engulfed in its flames.”

“Anger is irrelevant. The infection has been cured and we are taking steps to ensure there are no future outbreaks. The patient has been killed and his disease rendered dead. What else can you ask of us?”

Lamont fought a grimace and opted to silently grind his back teeth together in frustration instead. The Romulans were not admitting to any wrongdoing and were unwilling to address the incident as anything other than a tragic accident performed by a single, unsanctioned officer. Even an apology appeared out of reach for the moment given the senators and Proconsul’s intransience. With the Romulan Admiral dead and his fleet destroyed justice had been served. The Vulcan matter was now resolved – in the Romulan’s view.

Ian had lost nothing in these talks so far, but he had not gained anything. The Romulan position was not conciliatory. There were no concessions on the table – only vague promises of investigative reports that would likely never materialize. The Romulans were willing, at least for the moment, to flirt with the spectre of war. It was political brinksmanship of the highest caliber as both sides waited and watched to see who would blink first.

“In light of what has transpired the Romulan government’s words while respected do not provide a satisfactory resolution to the crisis. Were our roles and positions reversed and had it been Romulus that had been attacked by a rogue Starfleet Admiral – what would the Empire demand? Would there not be cries for justice on behalf of Romulan citizens? Would there not be those within the Empire who would seek to avenge such a serious transgression of territorial sovereignty? Would your own fleet officers be clamoring for a military solution, perhaps even war itself?

Your distant cousins, the Vulcans, have logically and dispassionately reviewed the situation and it is their wisdom that prevented open hostilities. They have grave concerns about the so called “Memento Mori”, the biogenic weapon that was engineered to destroy their race presumably by Romulan hands. The Federation requires absolute, unequivocal, proof the Memento Mori and its legacy has indeed been destroyed. Such weapons cannot be allowed to be reborn to again plague the living.

Proconsul, cooperation and transparency are the tools we must both use to avert calamity. I trust that your word and the word of your government is genuine and reliable, however both words and actions are required to resolve this situation. Words alone cannot solve our mutual problems. They are however the first step on a path to peace. Affirmative action must be taken to prove to the Vulcans, the Federation, and the universal community that this tragic event was indeed the work of a talented madman. All parties involved in this affair must be exposed despite the political ramifications. The alternatives will be…catastrophic for both our peoples if we cannot find mutual ground in which to resolve this crisis.”

“Ambassador. Your words are eloquent and well crafted. You represent your constituents well, however the Romulan government will not admit to crimes it did not commit! We will not be bludgeoned into accepting a resolution on Federation terms nor will we be frightened by posturing or military threats. If war comes, it will be the Federation who brings it about. And Ambassador, unlike the other races in the galaxy who bend and sway to Federation edict, the Romulan Empire will defend itself if attacked and will not be held accountable for the outcome of any such conflicts that may arise. You would do well to remind your Starfleet to keep its distance for the foreseeable future to avoid any additional incidents.”

Lamont flashed a glance at Lt. Lumendale who had remained a virtual statue since the discussion had started over three hours prior. “Proconsul, perhaps a brief recess is in order? Might I suggest a few minutes would be beneficial for all parties to digest what has been said before continuing the discussion? We also have the issue of my meeting with the Praetor to discuss. The Federation Council has formally requested an audience with the Praetor via myself as their representative in the hopes that this matter can be resolved.”

“A recess is acceptable Ambassador. We will adjourn for one of your hours. As for the Praetor, we will need to discuss such a meeting, its goals and substance, in greater detail. Please, you may remain here for the hour. If you require anything, food, drink – the attendant outside will see to any of your needs.”

Lamont bowed slightly as he stood. “Thank you Proconsul. Your generosity is appreciated.”

“We will take our leave and shall return in one hour. Ambassador.”

“Proconsul. Senators.”

The senators and Proconsul exchanged brief pleasantries with Lamont and exited the room. As the doors closed, Lamont wore a pensive expression on his face. There was something odd about these discussions. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He expected the Romulans to be difficult, even hostile, but their overt stubbornness was almost Klingon-esque. Who were they protecting? Themselves? The Praetor? Were they truly willing to risk war? Romulans were expert tacticians and master manipulators and had attempted to invade Vulcan once before in the recent past. That attempt had been thwarted by Captain Picard of the Enterprise and Ambassador Spock some years ago. Had they tried again and failed? Was this the reason for their inflexibility? Or perhaps they did not know of Tr’Sahen’s plans and had been taken by surprise. Such a blow would be devastating politically as well as for scores of those within the military ranks who should have known. Perhaps the posturing was to protect themselves from internal upheaval, civil unrest, or perhaps even civil war. Lamont couldn’t be certain of anything. His most recent briefings suggested nothing to indicate severe internal strife with Romulan government or society, however intelligence reports were not always accurate. Ian refused to base his actions solely upon potentially flawed intelligence estimates.

“What game are you playing”, Lamont muttered under his breath leaning against the long, elegant table that filled the room.

“Excuse me sir?”

Ian looked up. He had almost forgotten Lt. Lumendale was present.

“Lieutenant, you are holding up your end of our agreement admirably. Still want to be here?”

“Affirmative sir. I can think of no other place in the universe I would rather be.”

“I can think of a few”, Lamont quipped adding an injection of levity which he himself needed to hear after a grueling three hours of talks.

“Sir, if I may ask, The Romulans appear to be…”

“Lieutenant”, Lamont quickly and loudly stated much to the lieutenant’s surprise. “Now is not the time for idle chatter.” Alexia nodded despite the surprise that still showed upon her face.

Lamont approached and leaned in careful to keep his voice only at a whisper. “It is highly likely the Romulans have this room under surveillance and are actively monitoring our conversations. We should guard against giving them anything of value.”

Alexia looked at the ambassador with an inquisitive gaze. She indeed had much to learn.

“What do we do now”, she responded her youthful gaze momentarily grabbed by a passing Romulan shuttlecraft that buzzed the conference room windows.

“We have an hour to rest and reflect. I suggest you take advantage of the respite as I expect our next engagement with our Romulan hosts will be quite interesting.”

________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont

Lt. Alexia Lumendale

[USS Charon] SD241107.29 || "Diplomatic Warfare - Part 1" - Ambassador Ian Lamont

2011-07-29T02:23:00.000-04:00

USS Charon

“Diplomatic Warfare – Part 1”
________________________________

Lamont tugged at his regal suit jacket smoothing out several stray wrinkles that were threatening to form along its edges. He had clothed himself in the highest caliber of ambassadorial regalia in preparation to meet with a Romulan diplomatic envoy. He had been given only a tepid reception upon his arrival by his Romulan counterparts. It had taken two days of negotiations to obtain an audience with a Proconsul Lai I’Sarian and two Romulan senators. The deihuih or Romulan Senate was an immense bureaucracy steeped in centuries of tradition and politics. Lamont despised its horrid inefficiency and draconian procedures. It had did manage to somehow govern and had withstood the test of time as a viable institution however flawed. He was apt to give it some credit – not much, but some. He had little time to evaluate the pros and cons of Romulan government. His focus lay elsewhere on more pressing matters.

Ian paced the transporter room like a new father waiting for news on the birth of a child. He was impatient. The Romulans had delayed his meeting three times in the last four hours. He couldn’t be sure if they were stalling to achieve some minor psychological advantage or if they had yet to craft an official response to recent events. One could never quite tell what Romulan minds were thinking.

Time had certainly moved quickly. That much was known fact. Only a few weeks prior, a Romulan task force had appeared over the planet Vulcan with the sole goal of destroying all life on the planet. The commander of the doomed expedition was reported as insane and mentally unbalanced and the Romulan government had quickly distanced themselves from the action. Now, Lamont found himself mediating the largest public relations disaster in modern memory between the Federation and the Romulan Empire.

Tensions on both sides were exceedingly high. Admirals at Starfleet were practically tripping over themselves in line to decry the recent provocation and use it as a provocation for military action or in extreme talk, even war. Politicians were squabbling how best to use the attack to further their own agendas. There was talk of renegotiating the boundaries of the Romulan Neutral Zone, sanctions against the Empire, restrictions in trade and commerce, and other punitive measure which only added to smoldering tensions and years of mistrust on both sides. And here, all alone, Lamont had been given the sole task of keeping the peace at any and all costs. It had been made quite plain to him – his career hung on a single outcome. If he could preserve the peace and negotiate some sort of truce agreement then his position as a member of the Federation’s diplomatic elite would be forever secure. If he failed to maintain the fragile peace and talks devolved into military action or war his career as a diplomat would likely come to an abrupt end.

The tension was palpable and only a few knew just how high the stakes were in this dangerous game. There was a part of him that both relished an opportunity such as this to prove himself to the universe as well as to himself while another part of him trembled with paralyzing fear of the highest order. He carefully juggled the tension, expectations, emotions, and stress working to focus on the task at hand. He had a job to do. Failure at these negotiations could impact millions possibly billions of lives for the worst. It was not a legacy he could even comprehend. Failure was not an option.

Ian turned to the transporter chief stopping mid stride hitting the engineer with a cold, icy stare. “Any word from the Romulan delegation?”

“No sir. Nothing yet. Same as when you asked me ten minutes ago. We’ve been politely asked to wait.” Lamont muttered something unintelligible and returned to his pacing of the room. Physical exertion for the moment aided him in focusing his thoughts.

Speaking with several senators and a proconsul was a start. He hoped that he could eventually obtain an audience with the Praetor, the chief executive, of the Romulan Empire. There was a path out of this crisis – he just had to find it and quickly. The seas of opinion were especially turbulent given recent events and a dark storm roared on the horizon. Circumventing the storm was still possible, but every hour lost slowly closed that window of opportunity and should the storm arrive – it was anyone’s guess who or what would survive its immense wrath and deadly fury.

The doors to the transporter room parted as a lone lieutenant entered carrying with her several padds. Lamont stopped abruptly at the far end of the room upon hearing the familiar hiss of the doors. He recognized the crewman, but was puzzled at her appearance. He did not have the time or patience to deal with distractions.

“Lieutenant Lumindale? Do you have business here?”

Lt. Alexia Lumindale nodded with her usual bold confidence. “Yes sir. I have come to assist on what will no doubt be a difficult and challenging assignment.”

Lamont nearly cracked a smile, but the gravity of current events prevented any sign of emotional response. He couldn’t afford such trivial gestures and the Romulans were not known for being jovial in diplomatic settings.

“Lieutenant your dedication to duty is admirable, however now is not the time or place. I would ask…”

“Excuse me sir”, she interrupted. “I believe you are about to beam down where few Federation diplomats have ever tread, without security escort, and without assistance of any form during the coming talks. You need my assistance on this mission. The stakes are too high for a single person to complete such a task alone. I say this with all due respect to your rank and experience sir.”

Lamont would have been deeply offended had he not been acquainted with the lieutenant’s records. Alexia Lumendale was a gifted student and talented officer. Her degrees in communications and political science made her an ideal candidate for a future posting within the Diplomatic Corps assuming that was where her career goals were focused. The two had spent many hours together debating various topics and issues and Lamont had come to appreciate her views and opinions as informed and well supported by facts. He did not agree with her on many things, but she was one of the few individuals aboard he could actually speak to without boring or forcing into a comatose, vegetative state, during a conversations on diplomatic issues.

“Lieutenant”, Lamont stated coolly. “I cannot even begin to relate the gravity of the situation. Furthermore, you are out of line by requesting permission to accompany me to the surface. This is not a field trip nor learning exercise. I cannot and will not introduce an unknown element into negotiations. It has taken me nearly 48 hours alone to convince the Romulans to allow me to beam down for negotiations. They are on the defensive, are struggling to deal with current events, and are dangerous and unpredictable as a result. Your request is summarily denied.”

“Ambassador, please. You cannot go down there alone! I can act as your adjunct. Should a need arise for information pertaining to the current talks I can provide it. I have in my hands all relevant documentation related to recent events. I’ve cross referenced the material in chronological order to ensure it can be retrieved at a moment’s notice. Additionally, I have gathered the Charon’s communications and sensor logs of the event as well as records from the Vulcan ships involved in addition to all planetary observations. You need me sir! I can help.”

Lamont was impressed, but his answer was still the same.

“How did you obtain that information lieutenant”, he sternly replied. “Much of that data has been classified.”

“I have my sources and had to call in a few favors, but it was all worth it. Don’t you see? This is an opportunity of a lifetime!”

“It may be a tragedy, calamity, and outright disaster lieutenant. Did you stop to consider that possibility when pilfering classified information?”

“Sir, this could be a historic event. How can I stay away? How could I look myself in the mirror without doing everything possible to witness history firsthand – whatever the outcome? I recognize the importance of the mission sir. That is why you need me. I swear on my rank and name to remain utterly silent and invisible. You and the Romulans will hardly know I am even present. Please sir! I’ll do anything for this experience. How else can I excel in my field if I am denied access to the very substance in which I have studied?”

Lamont rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on however the lieutenant had made a valid point. Having someone there in the proceedings could indeed be useful if for no other purpose than to provide silent moral support. He would need every advantage to ensure success. He knew she was skilled, talented, and sharp. Her appearance and willingness to risk challenging a superior officer were signs of a strong will and deep convictions. Still – she was something of an unknown and another variable Lamont would have to factor into already complex social and political calculations.

He said nothing for several moments while he evaluated her proposal.

“You are willing to assume the risks?”

“Affirmative.”

“The Romulan Commander’s name involved in the incident, what was it again?”

“Admiral Itsak tr'Sahen. He has been listed as a rogue officer by the Romulan government which has disavowed any knowledge of his plot or activities. He was killed during recent events. Furthermore he was a relative of the captain, although I’m unsure if that is common knowledge sir. I shall omit that fact if requested.”

“And his intentions?”

“That is yet unclear, however his goal was the destruction of the Vulcan people by means of a specially engineered retrovirus which was to have been dispersed into the Vulcan atmosphere.”

Lamont nearly smiled. She was indeed well informed for a junior officer – dangerously so. He would have to question her at great length about her ‘sources’ given the sensitive information involved. He was unwilling to mentally explore the possible lengths she may have gone to in order to obtain her information, nonetheless, she appeared fully versed on the situation.

“Ambassador Lamont. The Romulan delegation has just signaled sir. They await your arrival.”

Lamont looked up at the transporter chief. “Finally.”

“Ambassador”, the lieutenant exclaimed having not received and answer to her initial question.

“Lieutenant, this goes against my better judgment however you appear to have gone to great lengths and appear well prepared. You may join me however I have pre-conditions. Say nothing. Express nothing. I don’t want to see you move or catch the sound of your breath. You must be a statue showing nothing by stanch stoicism whatever transpires. No complaints, no speaking, no movement – no anything. The talks could last for hours meaning both of us could be without food, drink, or rest for long periods of time. I shouldn’t have to say more, I believe you understand what is at stake.”

“Yes sir.”

“Then you agree to my terms?”

“Yes sir.”

“Make your way to the transporter pad lieutenant. Let us not keep the Romulans waiting.”

The lieutenant moved to the transporter pad without any hint of emotion or adulation. Lamont however could sense her excitement. It danced in her eyes a telltale marker of the excitement that was likely flowing within her. Indeed this was a rare opportunity – with all the fun and excitement one could have dancing about a ticking time bomb.

Lamont stepped onto the transporter pad next to his newly appointed adjunct. The talks had yet to begin and he already craved a tall glass of Romulan Ale. In a fleeting thought he wondered if that pilot Athalla had set aside any of the bottles he had given away.

“Sir, are you certain you do not want a security escort”, the transporter chief asked.

“Absolutely not”, Lamont shouted back. “Not only would the Romulans object, but they would only serve to create additional mistrust and tension. I’ll…we will be fine. Energize.”

Ian felt the tingle of the transporter as the room disappeared before him.

To Be Continued…

________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont

Diplomatic Advisor

Lieutenant Alexia Lumendale (NPC)

[USS Charon] SD241107.26 || "Buried Treasure - Part 2" - Amb. Ian Lamont & Lt. Leon Athalla

2011-07-27T01:09:00.000-04:00

U.S.S. Charon

“Buried Treasure – Part II”
________________________________

Ignoring the inquisitive stares of passing crewman, Lt. Leon Athalla, pressed on down the corridor pushing an antigrav sled ahead of him with minimal effort. The sled contained a recently discovered crate bearing the regal crest of the Federation Diplomatic Corps. There was only one person aboard the Charon who could be the chest’s owner and Athalla felt compelled to return the property to its rightful owner. Walking down the near empty hallway, Athalla had seldom been on Deck 2. The entire deck housed most of the ship’s senior officers and given Leon’s unique issues with authority being around the Charon’s top brass was hardly an ideal situation. And yet, here he was on deck 2 – and finally at his destination.

Leon looked down both ends of the corridor before adjusting his wrinkled flight jacket and tunic. His hair was a tangled, sticky mess of blond from hauling cargo crates the past few hours – punishment for one of many unique issues he had with authority. Reaching out he pressed the door chime at the entrance to Ambassador Ian Lamont’s personal quarters and waited.

[ Moments Earlier…]

Lamont closed the channel as the image of a past associate faded to the mirror finish of his computer terminal. He had called in a few favors in recent hours. His decaying networks of contacts and pawns had been of some marginal usefulness despite his inattention and lack of maintenance. Those favors had uncovered deeply troubling news. It indeed appeared that old family rivals were quietly plotting against him from the shadows like stealthy assassins patiently waiting for an opportune moment to strike. Old enemies thought to be dead or gone had quietly resurfaced from their slumber and were now directing their tireless gaze upon the last heir of the Lamont family line. They felt threatened and yet Lamont was at a loss as to why. He was a junior diplomat on a starship lightyears away from the Federation’s heart and utterly removed from most political intrigue. He lacked any real political power or direct influence. They knew that and yet still old rivals had begun to again conspire against him and his family name. What did they fear and why? Ian had no answers – only questions and vague inferences from a few trusted contacts. He needed more information. Most of all he needed to remain vigilant. His enemies were numerous and they had set their sights upon him.

He was but a child the last time they had moved against his family. His father was their target and they succeeded in ruining his political career and ambitions as well as tarnishing the flawless reputation of Lamont family name. They destroyed his father and the resulting fallout had cost both of them nearly everything generations of Lamonts had toiled to obtain. Ian slammed a fist onto his desk. “Not again”, he shouted between clenched teeth. His father had attempted to fight them spending most of the family’s fortune and wealth in the process. The attempts had been abysmal failures. However, Ian’s father had attempted to reclaim that which had been lost – honor, prestige, and political clout. Ian had been a child and had been spared most of the personal humiliation – he had much less to lose and that was a key difference. If past enemies wanted a fight he would only be too happy to give them one, but this time, the fight would be on his terms, by his rules, on the playing field of his choice. Being on the Charon, dozens of light years from anywhere, they could not reach him – at least not for the moment. That gave him time to prepare. He had no intentions of underestimating his opponents – he only hoped they would grant him the courtesy of vastly underestimating him, his resolve, and his tenacity.

An unexpected ring at his door snapped the Ambassador from his passionate thoughts. Looking up he wondered briefly who aboard had any reason to interrupt him. Suddenly, Ian was gripped with paranoia. Could they possibly have someone aboard? A spy? An assassin? “Just a moment”, Lamont shouted as he fumbled through a desk drawer. He finally located a type-I phaser whose capacity to function was in question given its age and lack of use, but the ambassador retrieved it nonetheless. Moving to the door he stood just outside the doors, phaser at the ready.

“Come in. Its open”, he called out masking the tension he felt from his voice.

The doors slid open and an unfamiliar face appeared. Lamont reacted to the intruder grabbing the man’s collar and dragging him to the wall pressing his phaser to the man’s head.

“What the hell”, the man called out resisting the urge to react with a weapon at his head. “Have you lost your mind!”

Lamont swallowed taking several deep breaths. Recomposing himself the ambassador recognized the man. He was one of the pilots aboard. Name was Athalla if he correctly recalled. The two of them had shared a few shuttle rides and exchanged in conversation on occasion. He removed the weapon and apologized.

“Forgive me Mr. Athalla. That is your name if I recall?”

Leon turned his face contorted in an angry scowl. “Is that how your greet all of your guests Ambassador? No wonder everyone hates politicians and diplomats! Are you sure peace is really your profession?”

Lamont quickly shoved the phaser into his pocket. “My sincere apologies lieutenant. I…I have something of a minor security problem as of late. I apologize for my behavior.”

“Well you won’t get many peace treaties with tactics like those”, the pilot quipped dusting himself off.

“I’ll keep that in mind”, Lamont replied. “Is there something I can do for you Mr. Athalla. I am afraid I have a great deal of work to attend to at the moment.”

“I stumbled upon something you might find to be of some value”, Leon replied moving back into the hallway to retrieve the antigrav sled. Pushing the container into the Ambassador’s quarters, Leon lowered the antigrav to the deck and kicked open the crate revealing the crest of the Federation Diplomatic Corps.

“I take it you might have lost this sir?”

Lamont blinked instantly recognizing the container. Moving to his knees, Lamont carefully entered several codes into a lock which released the container’s seal. To his dismay the lock flashed indicating it had been tampered with.

“I assume you have seen the contents”, Lamont asked as the cover hissed open revealing the crate’s refrigerated contents.

“Of course”, Leon answered. “Why else would I have brought it straight here. I don’t know of many others aboard who transport materials under diplomatic seal. Besides, if I let a few Romulan locks stop me, what sort of pilot would I be?”

Lamont looked up at the seemingly multi-talented pilot. “Indeed.”

Gingerly lifting a bottle, Lamont carefully examined an 80 year old bottle of Romulan Rhennish. The bottle was as expensive as it was difficult to obtain. He was certain this crate had been destroyed in recent action aboard the Charon with the rest of his extensive alcoholic collection. It appeared some small fraction had indeed survived and the lieutenant had been thoughtful enough to return it.

“So lieutenant – what do I owe you for your generosity? I assume you expect some form of compensation for your troubles?”

Leon chuckled. “The thought had crossed my mind Ambassador. It isn’t everyday one happens across a chest full of rare and expensive alcohol. I must admit the temptation to retain it for myself was quite strong.”

“Yes I am sure your intentions are pure and noble.”

Lamont carefully returned the bottle to the crate closing and securing its lid. “Hmm…what would constitute a suitable reward?” Ian considered the situation for several moments as a radical idea began to form within his churning mind. He gazed intently at the pilot.

“Uh, is there something wrong sir”, the lieutenant said keenly aware of the Ambassador’s intense and unusual scrutiny.

“How good are your combat skills lieutenant?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your combat rating? Hand to hand, marksmanship, - piloting even? How good?”

“Good?! I’m the best! There isn’t a pilot aboard who can out fly yours truly. As for combat skills, I’m no jarhead marine, but I can hold my own in a firefight. Why do you ask?”

“And your fellow pilots? Are they equally as cocky and full of themselves?”

Leon might have been offended if he wasn’t aware the Ambassador was toying with him.

“Indeed they are.” Leon had no idea what the Ambassador was on about but he would humor the man.

“Very well. You may have the crate and all of its contents. Feel free to share with your fellow pilots with my compliments though I recommend that you not drink everything in one sitting. Many of those bottles are worth your weight in latinum pilot and it would be a crime to recklessly consume them in a single all-night binge.”

Leon was dumbfounded. “You…you..you are giving me the crate? Everything?”

“Yes”, Lamont answered. “I have little need for such things at this time. I had assumed they were lost for some time now. Please. Accept that treasure chest as a token of my thanks.”

“Ambassador! I cannot accept this. I can’t even begin to calculate the value of the spirits in that chest. I could buy a used fighter for what some of those bottles are worth on the black market.”

“Indeed you could – but would you trade so fine and exquisite spirits for mere credits or latinum? That would be a high crime. I can assure you that those bottles contain nothing short of ambrosia.”

“Sir…I”

“Stop babbling lieutenant and accept the gift graciously and with dignity. I do not offer such gifts often nor do I give them lightly. In return I require something more of you.”

Leon laughed. “So there IS a catch! I knew it!”

Ian turned to face the pilot his expression serious and somber. “Lieutenant, I have a personal problem of unknown severity which may very well involve my immediate safety. It is not a matter for ship’s security and certainly not something I wish to be publically known. It is a private matter. I require some assistance in personal defense. I am not a soldier – you however are. You friends are as well. Should the time and need arise might I rely upon you in certain matters of personal defense, possibly even training?”

“Well that would depend on the situation, but I would say that your extreme generosity should easily procure you a few semi-sober pilots if and when you should require our unique brand of services.”

Ian nodded. “Thank you lieutenant. I appreciate your candor and honesty. I am confident I can trust you.”

“Well let’s not put the cart before the horse Ambassador, but given certain factors I’d say you just hired yourself a pilot. An expensive fee to be sure, but hey it was your decision.”

“I am confident my trust and faith are not misplaced. Enjoy yourself lieutenant. However, would you do me an additional favor?”

“And what is that Ambassador Lamont?”

“Save a bottle or two of the Romulan Ale. I much prefer drinking in the presence of friends than alone.”

Leon smiled. “Very well sir. I look forward to a few drinks in the future where I can perhaps toast my benefactor.”

Lamont nodded.

Astounded by his remarkable fortune, Leon activated the antigrav sled and bid the Ambassador good day before leaving his quarters. He was still somewhat shocked the Ambassador would part with such valuable merchandise so easily – either that or the good Ambassador was in far more trouble than he had let on. Somehow, despite the immense value of the alcoholic gems he pushed before him, Leon had a nagging suspicion he had somehow received the raw end of the deal. Only time would tell he supposed. For now he had a several bottles of vintage Romulan Ale to become deeply acquainted with.

________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont

Diplomatic Advisor

Lt. Leon Athalla

Pilot

[USS Charon] Stardate 241107.27, Duty Log. CSci CMDR Arcos Darye

2011-07-26T18:30:00.001-04:00

ON:

Commander Arcos looked up from a control panel, wondering if the latest scans had been received by the geology team. It was a standard routine for bridge personnel to take the scans necessary to conduct the research required for the entire science department. From the bridge science controls, astrophysics would receive object trajectory and gravitational effect, as well as star data; Geology would receive data on object composition and stability, biology would receive data on any life forms and ecosystems selected from additional scans to assist the operations team, and of course star charts would be added or updated with every scan taken within the voyage.

"Commander…" came the voice of his administrative assistant. Arcos leaped up at the console to see the geology transmission bleeping.

"Ah Mr. Vorn…" He grinned. "…Just in time to take in the report from geology," Arcos pushed a few buttons on the console and put a note in the log that the geology had received the latest scans of the planetoid in queue for next analysis.

"Ah, yes. But actually what I was referring too…" Vorn started to trail off as Arcos continued to work on the sub-routines on the auxiliary science station beside the main station taking scans of the planetoid.

"Alright, just a sec, Mr. Vorn." Arcos tapped a few buttons beginning the self diagnostic ending the maintenance to the science station. He had taken it upon himself to perform the routine rather then let engineering do it. Not that he didn't trust engineers… its just that his station was his station, if an engineer wanted to service her… fine, but if he had the time he'd rather do it himself.

"I fail to see why engineering wasn't called sir." Mr. Vorn commented.

"Mr. Vorn… theres somethings in life that you look forward to as a science officer…" Arcos started then grinned, realizing that he was starting to lecture. "Servicing your departments station ought to be one of them." He paused, then started again. "Is that what you've come asking about? Surely there is a lab report to send my way after your personal revision?"

"There is, but some things ought to wait until the department head has completed what he's assigned himself to top priority… "

"Now you're catching on. " he laughed. "so what do you have for me."

"Just a couple personnel reports for you to review before you submit to the XO." Vorn continued… "We've got a few crewman ready to move on to technician status… and a couple technicians readyto move on to specialist… that is if you think their service merits."

"Alright, but why not just place them on my desk with the other reports." Arcos asked. Why would his administrative assistant come all the way to the bridge.

"There is one other personnel request…" Vorn continued.

"Oh?" Arcos asked a bit curious.

"Yes it's the request for the science department head teams performance reviews."

"Oh I see, Mr. Vorn. Are you a tad bit excited?" Arcos grinned, realizing the ensign probably was hoping for a promotion it seemed. Arcos would have to meet with either the XO or the 2XO once his report was ready to file. The promotions of officers would be up to the ship command team of course, but Arcos knew the enthusiasm of a young officer all to well. He had the same spontaneous spunk when he was Vorn's rank… probably why eventually he did get that promotion. "well Mr. Vorn, looks like you have the science station."

OFF

CMDR Arcos Darye
Chief Science Officer
USS Charon

And

Ens Vorn (NPC)

Science Admin Asst

USS Charon

[USS Charon] SD241107.26 - Arrival Log - Captain Khiy Kanryth

2011-07-26T05:01:00.000-04:00

[Shuttle Maranon]

The emerald orb in all its luster twisted below the tiny shuttle. Thin sheets of cloud stretched windblown across the horizon as amber dots of city lights speckled on the dark continents. Ch'Rihan- Romulus as his compatriots called it was a far cry from Vulcan. How fortunate his ancestors must have felt when they stepped foot on such a bountiful planet after having lived on that hot and desolate rusty world. Khiy stared at it for a moment as his fingers tapped away on the pilot's console. The actual pilot sat in the auxiliary chair showing apparent dissatisfaction at having been relieved- but Khiy was oblivious to it. He pulled the shuttle into higher orbit and lined up with the Charon's docking bay.

"There are so many warbirds..." the demoted copilot casually chatted as his face pressed against one of the side windows. Eyes focused on the seemingly endless stream of massive winged ships that passed both above and below them.

"This is Romulus." Khiy stated plainly "I would be more concerned if there were no warbirds." The shuttle jolted- but it was expected. A thin blue stream of ambient light wrapped itself around the small shuttle. Like a hand the tractor beamed gently guided the vessel into the Charon's hangar bay and released it just above an empty landing alcove. Khiy released the shuttle's landing struts and set down.

[USS Charon]

As Khiy made his way down the small gangway he recognized a few faces among the many engineers and technicians filling the flight deck but none of them were senior staff. He had ordered the ship's Executive Officer to meet him in the observation lounge along with a few of the other senior personnel. Meeting him on the flight deck would have been a waste of time...

"Captain!" A caustically sharp and shrill voice echoed loudly through the flight deck towards him as a young woman approached "sorry to keep you waiting. I am Ensign Simone Akufe. I was sent by Commander Tyrax to guide you to the observation lounge. I hope your trip was well sir?"

"This will be unnecessary." Khiy stated plainly waiving the excited woman off as he walked past her towards the turbo lift.

"I'm sorry sir but I was ordered too..."

"Then I dismiss you from your orders." Khiy's tone was unintentionally caustic. He was tired- his eyes showed a hint of it but he kept most of it hidden. Although it was difficult to be pleasant in such a state. He waved his hand a second time as he stepped into the turbolift. The woman was wise not to follow. When the doors closed he sighed. The Charon was not where he wanted to be- but it didn't matter whether he wanted to be on the Charon or not- he didn't have much choice in the matter. Apparently Starfleet needed him.

He just didn't understand why.

[To be continued.]

--
Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon
www.usscharon.com

[USS Charon] SD241107.26 - Plot Prelude "Gates of Heaven"

2011-07-26T04:35:00.000-04:00

"Gates of Heaven" – Prelude

Stardate 235807.10

Thunder rippled across the barren and dusty landscape. The dozen or so spectators standing a mile from the blindingly white hot glow lifted their arms in unison shielding their eyes from the wall of sand churned up by a resonating shockwave. The ground began to shake as if the earth beneath their feet had liquefied but the small group remained still- bracing themselves expectantly against metal railings, leaning forward with anticipation. The glow slowly ascended towards the heavens leaving a smoky contrail in its wake as is ploughed through a set of cotton-like clouds.

A cacophony of shouts and cheers echoed through the sand-dust haze.

Aboard the rocket the lone pilot breathed heavily as the crimson horizon began fade to a blackness dotted by millions of tiny candle flames. "I have broken through the exosphere. I have made it." He echoed into his microphone. Excitement tickled at his lips but he hid his exuberance with a professional tenor- the small manned capsule at the head of the beast vibrated violently but slowly began to settle.

"You have made history!" A voice returned through the speaker system in his helmet. The pilot grinned to himself and cocked his head towards the dusty brown orb behind him as it started to take a spherical shape. He then looked ahead as the small rocket hurtled towards the milky white dot of the first great moon. As he roared into the dark side something caught his attention- a speck of silver sparkling against the dotted blackness. His breath went still as he neared it.

"There is something…" His voice trailed as the microphone returned static. His eyes stared at the strange structure floating aimlessly through the space ahead of him- it was enormous- at least a hundred folds larger than his small rocket. It seemed like a silver saucer with singed edges where bent scaffolding reached out into space. He was speechless as it sat serenely locked in the orbit of the moon. His mouth gaped as he noticed etching on it… shaped as: U.S.S. Horizon.

[To be continued]

--
Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon
www.usscharon.com

[USS Charon] SD241106.28 - Plot Log "Awakening" Pt 1 - Captain Khiy Kanryth

2011-06-29T05:34:00.000-04:00

[Baldanara System, Near Klingon Border]

Kaen tapped his fingers on the armrest while studying the viewscreen. The Quantum Fury, cloaked amidst the stars, lurked just a few hundred meters beneath a Ferengi freighter and a Klingon BOP. "I wonder what they are doing?" The Cardassian smirked and leaned forward and turned looking at his Romulan Captain "maybe the Ferengi are just delivering a supply of gourmet Gagh? With some crates of bloodwine to wash it down with and a few grubs for dessert?" He flashed his teeth in a grin "ah, the thought makes me hungry."

"Hungry?" A disgusted voice rose from behind them at the base of the turbolift. The fiery red headed chief medical officer crossed the bridge until she stood next to Khiy- her green eyes angrily focusing on the Cardassian next to him "that is one thing the Klingons and Ferengi have in common- nasty eating habits and as for you commander... If I smell another plate of fish in the mess I think I'm going to vomit."

"Why doctor- now that you mention it. I had a little for breakfast and washed it down with a nice cup of Kanar." He lifted his head, let out a breath of air, and rotated his hand wafting the odor towards the young doctor. Savannah abruptly pressed her wrist against her nose forming a disgusted expression as she stepped back "you be careful Onarin- I'll remember this the next time you lose a leg and I'll be damned if you ever find it again." She huffed and then looked at Khiy "Captain- you need to get your injection."

"It can wait." Khiy stated plainly. He stood up and took two steps forward to get out from between the doctor and his executive officer. "Have they completed the transfer?" Khiy asked looking at his Selay tactical officer.

The reptilian shook his head "one lassst container captain." He hissed.

Khiy waited quietly- his gaze set on the viewscreen. Behind him his executive officer and the doctor continued their verbal offensive against one another. The enitre bridge crew seemed tuned to the pair save for T'Ern with her steadfast vulcan focus and Nik Nok who was too busy preparing a decent firing solution.

"Last container transsssfered ssssir." Nik Nok hissed.

"Decloak and disable the freighter." Khiy ordered and watched silently as the Klingon and Ferengi ships' abruptly began to turn- but it was too late for the Ferengi freighter as a red-hot beam cut into their engines causing the yellow glow of their exhausts to flicker out. As the freighter drifted out of the viewscreen the Quantum Fury twisted until its mass of gun-ports were directly in line with the Klingon Bird-Of-Prey. "Open a channel." Khiy ordered.

The viewscreen flashed from the external view of the BOP to the dark red glow of a Klingon bridge. The Klingon Commander was clearly agitated as he flashed a disruptor at the viewscreen. "How dare you spy on us! You..." His eyes squinted "Vulcan PetaQ!"

"Vulcan?" Khiy frowned "do not insult me." In front of him he could see T'Ern raise a single eyebrow at the comment.

"It would wise not to annoy him too much mister Klingon commander." Kaen said and stood up walking next to his little Captain "he might be tiny but he will kick your ass. You seem to have forgot the import question however." He looked at Khiy "may I explain to him what the proper response would have been Captain?" Kaen looked at Khiy who nodded his head.

"You see Klingon." Kaen said "it would have been much more appropriate if you had addressed us in a kinder-gentler manner. Something like 'good evening Captain, why would the Federation trouble this poor old Klingon businessman on this bright and vacuumed filled day?' A little manners go a long way you know. Hell, we may have even cut you some slack..." Khiy shook his head at that comment and Kaen rolled his eyes "well maybe not- but it certainly would have been nice. What can a crew do to get some respect around here?"

"What the hell are you blabbering about Cardassian!" The Klingon Commander slammed his fist into the armrest of his chair "How dare you threaten us!"

"Me? Threaten?" Kaen looked at Khiy "why I never..."

"Shut up." Khiy sighed "you talk to too much Commander." He turned his attention to the Klingon "arm shipments within Federation space is strictly prohibited and illegal. Please lower your shields and prepare to be boarded and have your cargo inspected. Failure to comply result in the disablement and impoundment of your vessel. "

"PetaQ" He shouted and the view screen cut out to a picture of the BOPs front gun-port glowing bright red.

"Red Alert." Kaen chuckled and retreated to his seat. Khiy however remained standing as a torpedo was launched towards the fury.

"Evasive maneuvers." Khiy ordered and the ship lurched away from the torpedo. "Target their engines and fire." With the order the Fury unleashed hell on the Klingons. Red breams crisscrossed blue torpedoes as explosions ripped across the Klingon's shielding. Sparks and flames could be seen within their nacelles as the shielding keeping the Fury's weapons at bay quickly faded and with them any the chance the Klingon's had of escaping. It took only a minute for the Fury to overpower the ship. Once the shields were down and the engines gone Khiy checked his sidearm and then turned towards the turbo lift "Lieutenants Nik Nok organize two security teams for the inspection. T'Ern, and Alia- with me." Khiy started towards the lift as the junior's hurried to follow but was stopped by Kaen's voice.

"Sorry Captain, no playtime today. You just received a communiqué from Earth. I don't think you want to blow off the President." Kaen leapt out of his seat "I'll go play with our Klingon buddies instead." He grinned "this should be fun!"

Khiy shook his head as Kaen and the others disappeared into the lift. He looked at Savannah "doctor you have the bridge." She looked a bit stunned at the order but gleefully plopped down into the plush Captain's chair as Khiy headed into his ready room.

[USS Quantum Fury, Ready Room]

The President's image was already waiting for him on the holographic viewer as he entered the ready room. He nodded at her "madam President. What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries Captain." She smiled "I know you are very business so let's get down to business. I'm not going to order you- I've read your history so I don't want Starfleet to force you to do anything you don't want to do- but Captain. The Federation needs your help. It hasn't been announced yet but Admiral Enor was killed on Romulus."

She paused. Khiy noticed the hint of distress in the President's voice and the tension that pulled the wrinkles deeper towards the corners of her lips. While Khiy did not know the Admiral very well he knew the Trill was well respected- such a loss would certainly be felt across Starfleet. "The Charon was dispatched to Romulus. Are they unable to deal with the situation?"

"Business." The President appeared to snap back into her rhythm "yes- the Charon is local but Captain Rehu has taken a leave of absence to deal with more personal matters."

During such a crisis? Khiy was stunned considering her nature but he hid it well beneath that stoic veneer of his fitting of a Vulcan. "And you believe my insight into the Romulans will benefit this mission?"

"You read my mind." The President quipped with a sly smile "if you succeed you may make full Admiral within the next ten years. No need to even ride your mother's coat tails."

A wince shattered his veneer "very well."

"Ah, good. The USS Hayden will rendezvous with the Quantum Fury. Mission details will be provided once you arrive on the Charon."

[End]

Captain Khiy Kanryth
Act Commanding Officer
USS Charon

[USS Charon] SD 2400606.26 || Character Story || "Die Tonight, Live Forever", Part VII || En‏s. Landon Neyes, NPCs

2011-06-26T03:28:00.000-04:00

=/\= SD 240605.02, The TCV Nodlan, Du'Ji Cluster (five LYs from Trill) =/\=

The Nodlan's engines roared to life and the ship turned on it's axis, thrusters firing small bursts from the hull. She was remarkably agile for her size, and once Landon punched the acceleration, it shot out at full towards a planetoid.

"They're getting closer, Landon! I can't get a clear reading on their signature though. They just show up as some kind of unmanned probe to the computer."

"They're proximity drones." Neyes said plainly, his eyes not moving from the ship's controls.

Odalla moved from her position on a sitting bench to an actual position, deciding it best to man an ops station. She was cleared on basic ship functions, after all. "Why are we running from them? And where's Daeryx?"

Neyes continued to work the controls. This woman was obviously not grasping the nature of this little adventure they'd followed him on. "They have about four quantum torpedo warheads in their hull, Odalla. They' re designed to target ships and hunt them down. This ship isn't fast enough to outrun them." He looked quickly from one sensor reading to another as he worked. One of these had to be big enough for what he had in mind. "The Ferengi no doubt had them commissioned to track and destroy us once we left dock.

"Ferengi? Why? How do you plan to outrun them, then?" Greg asked, a little more than interested in why the Ferengi would be chasing them.

"You two. Worry about getting the ship ready for concussive impacts to the shields and hull. I'll need as much power to the engines as you can spare, otherwise. This isn't going to be fun, or terribly simple. So please, if you could, let me work." Neyes said, finally raising his voice a little.

The two members of the little trio looked to each other and then back down to their instruments. There was no reason to keep asking questions, they supposed. Especially if things were about to get a little bumpy.

"One's within 1 million kilometers and is closing WAY too fast! It'll intercept in about 20 seconds, Ensign." Odalla said, rising to the occasion. "We need to lose it!"

Landon nodded and worked the helm with a resolute intensity. His fingers graced the controls, hitting each command exactly when it needed to be done. The Nodlan banked to starboard, it's small winged-nacelles turning over each other, and then it dove down into a massive planet-sized asteroid. Smaller debris rushed past the vessel as Landon continued to pick up speed as they plummeted downward. A small but extremely well-armed , probe-like ship raced down after them, only deviating to sidestep obstacles. Greg clutched onto the controls, suddenly stricken by anxiety. The asteroid was coming up too fast to be safe, and the ship's Trill-designed deflectors weren't intended to repel any crash damage.

"Donny, slow dow--"

"If we do that we're dead." Landon cut him off.

"6000 meters!" shouted Odalla, a little panic creeping into her voice. She hadn't signed onto this assignment so she could be chased by suicide bombs, and now all she wanted was to get the hell out of there and go home.

The ship careened down toward the planetoid until it overtook the entire screen and then Landon bucked the ship upwards. It sho t from it's dive into a path parallel to a ravine about 2 kilometers wide, and slipped down inside. Alarms sounded on the helm, and Neyes quickly silenced them. The probe seemed to follow above them for a moment, then also took a quick turn and followed them into the canyon. The Nodlan's engines burned fiercely as Landon pushed them to their limit. The jagged walls of the canyon loomed closer and closer as the width of the chasm seemed to diminish. Greg tried not to look up at the viewers or the windows, since he worried he'd lose all sense of calm if he realized just how close they were to being crushed, then vaporized. Rocks and ships of metallic ore clipped the hull and pelted the shields. The sounds filled the cabin where the three crewmen worked to outrun the death-dealing machine. It still seemed to come after them, however.

"Hold on!" Neyes cringed as he executed the next maneuver.

The Trill ship fired a few thrusters, turned to port on it's axis, and the primary engines cut entirely, leaving the ship to turn to the side while still moving forward with the force of it's own momentum. She was too large to simply 'go' in one direction without inertial drift, but Neyes had a plan.

"Doesn't this ship have weapons?!" Odalla yelled out from the back.

Landon laughed. "Of course. Lets shoot a bomb that's nearly scraping away at our hull." He began to calculate as the few seconds he had left to think started ticking away. "All power to the shields, covariant f requency, and reinforce the wingtips on the nacelles.

"Computer. Activate helm manual interface. Setting 'Ki'djual dai heq'." The helm controls shut down and the panel rolled back into a recession at the bow, and they were replaced with a a few pedals and two complicated looking handle grips.

Greg's face lost some color. "Landon. You wouldn't."

A deviously thin smile lit up in the corner of the pilot's mouth.

As a split in the ravine came into view, Greg closed his eyes. Neyes breathed a heavy exhale through his teeth as he took the grips and slammed down into two of the pedals with his feet. The Nodlan practically screamed as her engines flared to life and accelerated at the opening. The small ship's hull moaned slightly and Odalla yelped as she was thrown from her seat by the torque. With a spin and a bright burst from the impulse thrusters, the Nodlan rushed in a new direction.

"Hold on!" Neyes cried.

The turn was proving too much for the ship, and the wall of the ravine was coming up far faster than it should have. With the inertial forces sliding her in the previous direction they'd headed, they were going to hit. Greg clutched onto his seat and braced himself for the worst.

A sharp deceleration and terrifying screech of metal against rock filled the cabin as the very tip of Nodlan's nacelle wing dove into the rocky wall of the canyon. Rocks split open in their path as the meat of the wing carved a line into the canyon, sending a flurry of debris cascading outward behind them. A sea of spar ks lit up the side of the ship and inside the cabin a conduit ruptured, pouring residual steam as it waved about the quaking deck. Landon had one of his feet braced against the helm, but cried out as he felt something give in his knee, and Greg was thrown against the primary controls.

Neyes bared through the pain in his leg and pulled them starboard, up and out of the collision. The Nodlan's engines hesitated at first, then met him with an abrupt response, yanking itself free.

The small probe giving chase swiftly fired it's maneuvering thrusters, diving out and away from several of the massive rocks that Neyes had ripped out. It's tiny, steely shell reflected the rocks and shards that leapt past it, but even as fast as it was it was unable to avoid them all. It clipped a smaller asteroid, tearing a piece of it off, and the probe immediately lost attitude control. Spinning out of control, it collided with the wall and exploded. With a deafening crack, the concussion ripped through the planetoid, and an explosion billowed up and outward, filling the rear viewers of the Nodlan with an intense mixture of blues and greens. A soft white line of fine dust shot out in a wave over the planetoid's surface, displaced by the massive explosion.

Greg pulled himself up and brushed a little blood from under his nose. Seeing the shockwave, he dropped power from the reinforcements at the wingtips and rerouted it to the aft defenses. Moments later, the Nodlan was bucked forward, its shields afire as they kept the destructive energy at bay. Landon managed to regain control of the ship, and took them up and out of the ravine.

"Now we can use weapo ns." He sighed, cringing for a moment as he nursed his knee.

Odalla practically hissed as she slid herself back into her seat after being tossed about the cabin. "They're all offline! Two more probes headed our way!" She threw a piece of severed piping at the back of Neyes' head. "What other recklessly bright ideas do you have up there?"

=/\= TBC =/\=

Landon Neyes

NPCs

[USS Charon] SD241106.11 duty log, CSci Commander Arcos

2011-06-12T01:50:00.000-04:00

ON:

//---Science Office---//

ON:

Commander Arcos sat at his desk preparing his schedule recommendations for the week. As the week had progressed some of the important labs went from the critical point of observation to completion. The biology lab had produced some overly zealous data about a common bolian coffee substitute. The chemistry lab too had done its part to isolate the chemical compound of its effectiveness. The medical teams would now have thier go at it in clinical trials for the stimulant presumably, but it was unclear wiether or not it was going to be utilized in natural state or not. Given enough time, it could be an effective herbal remedy served in the ships lounge.

"You know, I ought to thank you, Ensign." The commander looked over to his administrative assistant. "You've given me an answer to what I should drink besides coffee when I am up late. I'd say this herbal supplement tastes rather odd, but I am certain the ships chef will come up with a great malt or blended drink with its extract. Plus you've kept the train going on our departments research and utilization of encountered edible plants. I'd say our newest Botany chief, Petty Officer Smith will have her hands full keeping the plant from dying."

"Oh?" The ensign raised an eyebrow uncertain what could be the problem. He hadn't done any research on how to keep the plant alive.

"Bolian's have a very unique planetary ecosystem. The terrain from where this plant was cultivated is… in a sea cave in the west part of the largest continent. The potassium salt content is interesting to say the least. You know the drill, potassium chloride solution trickles into the cave…" He started, but vorn finished the sentence.

"And the plant filters out the water… until the pods burst leaving a potassium Chloride salt ring around plant, so?"

"Are you aware of the danger of the bursting pods in close proximity to some of our nitrate root stimulants also present in the lab..."

"ah… I think I will tell Petty officer smith to isolate the plants."

"It's already been done, but the bursting pods have to spread the potassium far enough from the central stem in order to keep the next growth from dying… it's a sticky situation… as shoots of the herb can not tolerate that high of concentration of potassium chloride…"

"I never noticed that in our experiments…"

"Molarities of the solution must be kept at ideal levels… it has to trickle down to the new shoots in less substantially less quantity then the bursting pods with the seeds taking root elsewhere in the cave after washing away… long story short, she will have to trickle down the quanities to the center and remain in utter darkness… except during the seeding process."

"wait seeding process?"

"The pods 'burst' and a inner pod is released, the waves in the caves take them through the inner channels of the cave where light is shown half their trip as the succeeding tide brings them in and out of the opening. As they are placed in the planting area."

"Can't we duplicate this?"

"I hope so… that's the best coffee I had in a long time."

--OFF—

Commander Arcos Darye
Chief Science officer
USS CHARON

And

Ensign Vorn
Science Assistant
USS CHARON

[USS Charon] SD241106.01 || Personal Log || "Buried Treasure" - Lt. Leon Athalla, Pilot

2011-06-02T01:26:00.000-04:00

U.S.S. Charon

“Buried Treasure”
________________________________

“Give me a hand with this would ya”, crewman Vaan shouted over his shoulder. “It’s heavy.”

Lt. Leon Athalla sighed and helped the struggling crewman lift the heavy crate onto a nearby antigrav.

“Is this what you do all day”, Athalla asked wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.

“Yep. Not all of us are out here for the glitz and glory like you pilots. Besides, my chances for living a long life are far better in this cargo bay than in the cramped cockpit of those death machines you fly. You my friend are getting the sharp end of the stick let me tell you.”

The two men grunted as they lifted another heavy crate onto the antigrav sled. “Is that so”, Athalla stated. “Sorry, I’m not having fun unless the candle is burning from both ends. If you stuck me in a predictable, stable, job like this I’d go insane. No offense.”

“None taken”, Vann replied lifting a smaller crate and scanning it into inventory. “So if all the action and excitement is in piloting then why are you here in the cargo bay?”

Athalla chuckled with a sheepish grin. “Yeah…well let’s..just say I had a disagreement with a certain superior over proper flight procedures. A skilled pilot can safely land a Valkyrie fighter without automation systems. Tractor beams and computer auto-pilots are for trainees and cadets. A true pilot should have no problem correcting for pitch, roll, angle of approach, speed, attitude, and orientation. The Charon sits in empty space. It’s not like this is ship is a carrier pitching and rolling on the high seas – which consequently is also an excellent place to test a pilot’s true mettle.”

Vaan stared at the pilot with a blank expression. “Not following you.”

Athalla sighed. There were too few pilots aboard that could appreciate his prodigious, piloting prowess.

“I landed my bird on the Charon after a practice mission without using the auto-pilot systems. My superior was having a bad day and I got chewed on for it. He kicked me down here to think it over. If he would stop quoting regulation rule books and just fly he might be a decent pilot, but he’s far better at playing the clean marine if you know what I mean.”

“Not sure that I do, but I’ll take your word on it.”

Athalla put his face into his hand. Why couldn’t he have landed a gig on a heavy cruiser or carrier with actual squadrons? Why had Starfleet stuck him on the Charon with a pitiful band of ragtag outcasts with aging fighters and only a handful of them at that. Where was the latest or fastest fighter? He’d kill for a slot as a test pilot at one of the fleet yards and yet… Testing new tech was fun, but if one never got a chance to use it, where was the fun in that?

“What’s this”, Vaan asked brushing off a large crate that was unusually dusty. “This isn’t on any of the manifests. I can’t find it in the inventory anywhere.”

“What”, Athalla responded dryly. “What are you agonizing over?”

“I can’t find this container anywhere in the system. Do you think it might be contraband? Perhaps someone is trying to smuggle something? What do you think is inside? Weapons? Treasure?!”

Athalla slowly closed his mouth which was hanging open. This crewman was getting this excited over a single crate?! Athalla shook his head. This boy needed to get out more or have his head examined…or both.

“It might just be empty”, Athalla muttered deflating Vaan’s sudden burst of excitement. “Why don’t we open it and see what’s inside?”

“OPEN IT? ARE YOU KIDDING”, Vaan shouted.

“No. Not at all. Why?”

“That’s a violation of protocol! What if it is booby-trapped or contains a deadly poison or an alien lifeform. It could endanger the ship! No! We have to report this immediately so that the proper precautions can be taken according to section 134 paragraph 17 of the….HEY!!!”

“Hmm…it’s a Type 2, RNX-72. It’s a Romulan locking mechanism. These babies are fairly good, but if you know what you’re doing…”

“What..what are you doing”, Vaan shouted. “You can’t open that! Step away from the container now!”

“Or you’ll what”, Athalla asked tinkering with the lock and a tricorder he had grabbed.

“I’ll call security on you.”

“Really? Pulling rank on a superior officer, crewman? I could have you put on report for insubordination. You sure you want to call security?”

“You pilots think you own this ship!”

“No…we don’t own it. We just put our asses on the line to keep it all nice and safe for you here on the inside. Until you put yourself and your life in harm’s way for others why don’t you leave the threats to the big boys, eh? Oh, and could you take a step to your left? You’re in the light.”

“But sir, this…”

“Ah! There we go!” The container emitted several loud beeps as the electronic locks disengaged.

“How? How did you do that?!”

“A misspent adolescence I’m afraid”, Athalla replied. ‘Learned a few things I probably shouldn’t have”, he said with a smile.

There was a loud hiss as the container unlocked itself with a satisfying metallic snap. Within seconds a fine, white mist began flowing from the unlocked seals that had been released.

“SEE! It IS dangerous! Don’t breathe in the vapor! There’s no telling what that is!”

Athalla nudged the container’s heavy lid open with his boot as he peered inside. A thick cloud of mist rose into the air before dissipating revealing a chest full of treasure.

“Bottles? What is this? Romulan Ale?!”

“A small fortune in Romulan Ale”, Athalla answered sifting through the various chilled bottles. “Sunnuva, this stuff isn’t just good, it’s fantastic! 2297? Wait, 2265? Athalla’s eyes grew in size. “There must be several thousand credits worth of ale in here! I’ve only heard about some of these vintages!”

“Contraband! Contraband pure and simple. Wait until I tell the bay master about this! Can you believe the nerve of someone trying to smuggle illegal merchandise aboard a ship of the line? Security will want to have a look at this as well. I suspect they will want to know who this belongs to and arrest them for the half dozen crimes they have committed…”

Athalla carefully looked through the bottles until he spied a single symbol that instantly identified the owner of the illegal merchandise.

“Oh, you sly dog”, Athalla muttered under his breath. “You sly, sly dog. Must be nice being able to pull rank.”

“What? What are you mumbling about”, Vaan asked.

Athalla slammed the lid of the container, re-engaged the locks, and lifted it onto an unused anti-grav sled.

“What, what are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

“Crewman, I’m taking this with me. You can finish up here without me. You’re far better than I at keeping the cargo hold safe from the evils of disorganization, clutter, and chaos.”

“Just a moment! That’s illegal contraband! You can’t just…”

“Take it”, Althalla replied. “Yes I can. I think I know who this belongs to. They might want it returned. And besides if they knew it was here they might just blame those responsible for watching over it. You did say it was an oversight right? That it had been forgotten? Misplaced? And who around here is in charge of keeping the manifests and inventory ledgers in tip-top shape? Oh wait, that’s you. If I were you I’d just keep this to yourself. The owner of this crate isn’t someone who is typically blessed with copious amounts of patience and understanding. I’d hate to see them storm in here demanding answers or someone’s head – if you get my drift.”

Vaan swallowed. “I thought you were on report yourself?”

“Reports come, reports go. My superior is probably off chewing someone else out for not polishing their flight stick or if he had any sense he’d be drinking the time away seeing as there hasn’t been any action on this tub for an eternity. Just keep your mouth shut, ok?”

Athalla looked at the crewman doubtful the runt would stay quiet.

“Look. Drop by pilot country sometime. I’ll make it up to you. Let ya sit in my fighter or something ok?”

“REALLY?! YOU MEAN THAT?!”

Athalla inwardly cringed. What had he gotten himself into?

“Sure…whatever. Just keep this on the down low. None of us want any trouble. Right crewman?”

“Yeah. Ok. I can do that. When can I drop in? Can I meet the other pilots? You think we could…you know hang out?”

“Yeah…well let’s play all that by ear. Ciao.”

Athalla activated the anti-grav and pushed the container out of the cargo bay thankful to have escaped. Attacking a squadron of Tholian fighters single handed was less demanding than dealing with that crewman. But on to the task at hand. He had a delivery to make and perhaps a small finder’s fee to claim.

Anything bearing the crest of the Federation Diplomatic Corps was sure to have some intrinsic value to a certain individual aboard the Charon…

[ To Be Continued… ]

________________________________

Lt. Leon Athalla

Combat Pilot, USS Charon

And

Crewman Vaan (NPC)

[USS Charon] SD 2400605.02 || Character Story || "Die Tonight, Live Forever", Part VI || Ens. Landon Neyes, NPCs‏

2011-05-31T04:18:00.000-04:00

=/\= SD 240605.02, The TCV Nodlan, Du'Ji Cluster (five LYs from Trill) =/\=

Few things seem as vast as the emptiness of space. For imperceivable distances the only visible spectacles are stars lying so far out of reach, civilization had to harness the power of suns in order to find them. Areas of space still exist where no living thing has ever been, even now. Yet in this emptiness, the tiny TCS Nodlan slipped silently from it's high-powered subspace flight. A quick flash shown million of kilometers away, and then she popped almost out of nowhere. Her silver-line hull glistened as the speckled lightshow of stars danced invitingly on the metallic surfaces and artistic curves of her frame. Landon sat at the helm near the bow, a wide but sleek position, with windows both starboard and port meet ing the center viewer. Nodlan wasn't a small ship, by a shuttle's standards. She was in fact much larger than any Starfleet ship in the same class, but was still small enough to fit inside most shuttle bays of any starship. Sitting in someone else's hold wasn't really Neyes' style, however, and he would have probably landed his ship on a hostile planet rather than imprison her in docking moors.

The cabin door to the rear slid open with a subtle hiss as Gregory stepped into the control room. There wasn't a great distance between the helm and the back of the room, but it was enough for Neyes to have to anticipate Greg's solemn impatience as he moved to the co-pilot's seat. And sure enough it took less than a moment for Greg to clear his thr oat, ever so conspicuously.

"Yes?" Landon chimed, sarcastically.

"I see we dropped out of warp, friend. But there's nothing here-" He barely had time to finish the sentence when Odalla came stomping through the doors as well.

"You might give us a little warning next time, Ensign! SOME people have to catch up on their sleep after c hasing around a neurotic Trill pilot for the last week!"

Spoiled, that's what they were. Both Greg and Counselor Odalla were used to going on a mission after a Starfleet briefing. They wanted to know how, when, where, why and what. Now he carried them around in his most prized vessel (whose sound insulation wasn't designed to keep the thrum of a decelerating starship out of the sleeping quarters) and it was all they could do to keep from tearing his head off at every slight.

Neyes slowly to turned in his seat to confront her, but hi s intentions to scold her were suddenly thwarted as he looked upon he r disheveled appearance. It seemed she had neglected to take the time to put up her hair, and it was strewn about carelessly in her face, dark curls messed and twisted inside themselves. His brow shot up and he pointed at her. "You. You don't look half bad first thing in the morning." He teased. "We're where I want us to be. Now we just need to wait here for a moment."

"Wait for what?" Greg asked.

"Yes, PLEASE. Enlighten us to whatever mysterious plot you've dragged us into. I'd like to know what's going on." Odalla spat, taking the queue from Neyes and quickly tying up her hair into a small bun. She was a beautiful woman, but she didn't need to look bea utiful in the current company. It would have probably been a wasted effort anyway. Greg was a noted 'good-man' type who courted for the long haul and Neyes was... well... a joined Trill. They tended not to take on relationships. Even the Neyes symbiont talked a big talk, but she knew she was in no real danger of being approached for anything substantial.

As if summoned by their complaints, a ship immediately blipped on the sensors. Greg quickly took to the sensor controls and tried to analyze it. Landon simply sat and watched.

"I've got a small ship off the port bow. 1 million kilometers. Looks like they just dropped out of warp." Greg looked over at Landon. "Is this what we're waiting for."

"It's who... not what. And yeah." Neyes said, a little smirk gracing the corner of his lips. "He's here."

Odalla's eyes narrowed. "Who, HE. Ensign? Is this some contact of yours?"

The comm system came to life. "We're being hailed. Landon. I'd guess you want to speak to him." Greg looked over at him.

Landon began tapping the controls of the helm. "Open a channel." The computer chirped in response.

The man who sounded over the comm system had a relaxingly ch arming sound to his voice. He spoke with flawless intonation and a seductive flair. "Hello Neyes. It's been a little while." His attractive face lit up a side monitor. The man was slightly older than Landon, probably 27 in Earth years, and was just as physically fit. His jaw-line practically cut the edges of the frame. His metallic-silver eyes carved an intimidating look onto each of them as he nodded to both Greg and Odalla.

Odalla watched with a careful eye as she witnessed the exchange begin to take place. Landon had visibly shifted his body language. He no longer had the cocky, terse tightness, and a kind of familiar relaxation radiated off of the young man. Odalla couldn't tell if it was their past dealings or some es tranged sense of security, but Landon definitely knew a good deal abo ut the man to whom they were speaking. He seemed comfortable, but also cautious. Sneaking around in the corners of space and meeting up with unknown ships wasn't exactly in her job description. She found herself wondering if they hadn't gotten themselves into something terribly personal; if this wasn't some kind of a 'off the record' issue she'd missed.

Neyes' response was just as comfortable, and he also found himself using the same refined speaking form. "New body, new life, all that. I've gotten used to being a man, though. Sounds like you agree?"

"Of course. I haven't been a woman for a while now though, you know. Not since before I met you, I think." He replied. The words seemed to imply more than gender discussion, and everyone in the cabin felt it. To the unknowing listener, however, it would appear to be little more than play-talk. The two men obviously had had dealings with each other before, and given their talks so far, the meeting place and the similar ships, Greg and Odalla both felt like outsiders stepping into a private conversation.

Greg looked from side to side, and locked a quick mutual gaze with Odalla. "Who is this guy, Landon?"

"Sorry. Greg, Odalla, please meet my old friend. Na'jan Daeryx."

Odalla's brow furrowed, and Greg merely sat staring, ignorant to what it meant. "Your Daeryx?" She asked, implying her knowledge of his file and the symbiont's history.

Landon sighed. "Yes. My Daeryx."

His enthralling voice came back over the comm system. "Pleased to meet you both." He made a motion at one of his controls and his ship came to a stop about 100 meters off the Nodlan's bow. Greg leaned a little forward, as the small Trill ship came into view. Landon's ship was impressive, but this Daeryx... his was indescribable. Sleek curves and edges came to a melded round at the nose of the fighter, if that was indeed was it was. The ship obviously had warp capability, but the nacelles were built into the rounded wings of the ship. It was more like art than craft, and it looked like it was deceptively limited in it's weaponry.

From the corner of his eye, Neyes could see Greg looking at the ship in awe. Landon had been the same way when he'd seen the ship for the first time. It was almost fr ightening to be at the helm of that vessel, and Neyes had only experi enced in once. Daeryx was extremely touchy about letting anyone else man the helm.

"I suppose there's a reason you asked for me to meet you here, Neyes? I can't say I don't love getting to see you every few decades or so, but you usually don't ask on such short notice." Daeryx raised an eyebrow and cracked a thin smile.

Landon looked back over the viewer, "Yeah. Well..." He looked over to Greg and Odalla, hesitating to say anything out loud. A few moments was all it took for him to damn it all and just go with it. They were both already in this until the end. "I need you help to wipe the organization that killed my family of f the chart, Daeryx. I've got a lead on them, but I have a hard time thinking i'll be able to do it all alone."

"You? You think you can't do it alone? I'm honored, truly." The other Trill man chimed sarcastically.

"Joke all you want, Na'jan. I'm asking for your help."

"You have it, old friend. Always."

Greg's panel shouted an alarming serie s of blaring beeps as the tracking computer moved Daeryx's image to a smaller side screen and brought up a local map of space. Red dots flickered at them, and they appeared to moving at terrifying speed right in their direction. "Something just dropped out of warp! They're on an intercept course, headed here at full impulse!" He looked up first to Landon, who was already charging the engines, and then to the comm channel. Daeryx's image was gone however, and his ship was no longer in front of them.

=/\= TBC=/\=

[USS Charon] SD241005.27 || Personal Log || "Phoenix Rising" - Ambassador Ian Lamont

2011-05-27T01:47:00.000-04:00

“Phoenix Rising”
________________________________

== Personal Quarters – USS Charon ==

Flipping through the dusty pages of an old book, Ian looked for the passage where he had stopped the day before. Backtracking he at last found his starting point and set upon resuming reading. After several moments he again stopped and tossed the book upon his coffee table. The book, a history of Alexander the Great, was a favorite of his. It was one of few possessions he had managed to retain from the grand Lamont estate that now existed only in record and memory. Generations of precious family assets, paintings, books, heirlooms, and many other such objects had been lost to hungry creditors or sold by his father to pay his army of lawyers in a desperate bid to restore his position as well as the reputation and integrity of the Lamont family name. A few trinkets, books, images, and other odds and ends were all that remained of the once grand estate that had lasted for generations. Lamont carried only two objects with him on assignments. The rest of his family’s legacy, what little remained, was carefully stored back on Earth. He retained the history book whose paper pages he had ravenously devoured as a young boy, and a necklace which he kept around his neck at all times. The tiny pendant was several hundred years old tracing its path back to the very beginnings of his long and storied family line. It was a reminder to him of what had come before and what he still had yet to do.

He sat up on his couch and gazed out of his window into an endless sea of stars. His recent time on Vulcan had been especially profound giving him much to contemplate about himself, his future, as well as his own troubled past. He found it increasingly difficult to relax except when buried in work. Personal time was torturous as worst, annoying at best. He couldn’t stop thinking about the subtle advice he had received from the sagely priests on Vulcan. It was both a blessing and a curse as it seemed to fill his every waking thought.

A sudden jarring beep startled the absorbed Ambassador back into the present. Cursing under his breath, Lamont stood and made his way over to his desk where the computer informed him of an incoming transmission. He was in no particular mood for conversation, but he welcomed the momentary distraction from his own thoughts.

“Lamont”, he stated bluntly opening the channel.

“Ian! So good of you to take my call. How are you old friend?”

Lamont blinked. Staring back at him was a man he hadn’t seen in several years.

“Halprin”, Lamont barked. “We haven’t spoken in nearly ten years. And we were never friends. What do you want?”

Halprin appeared rejected, but quickly recovered with his trademark grin. Lamont knew that smile. Nothing had changed in a decade. Trevor Halprin was still the same smooth talking, lying, brown nosing, suck up as he was ten years ago.

“I see your manners have not improved nor your ability to reign in that sharp tongue of yours. And you made Ambassador? What were they thinking? Your temper is legendary. Or well, at least it was. You appear to have fared well these past few years?”

“I get by”, Ian flatly stated. “I’m sure this isn’t a social call Halprin. You never bothered to so much acknowledge my existence unless you wanted something. What is it you want today? I fear I have precious little to offer an important, politician such as yourself.”

“Don’t be so modest Ian. News of your deeds has reached us back here on Earth. I never thought you would again don the uniform…well at least not again after your involvement in the war.”

Lamont glanced down at the Starfleet uniform he now wore. He had given up wearing his pretentious ambassadorial dress finding their pomp no longer suited him. The unassuming uniform of the military again adorned his body despite the harsh memories of his past it occasionally conjured up.

“It suits me. This ship, my assignment, does not mesh well with the trappings of the elite. Unlike yourself. That suit made of real silk? Is that what all the politicians and operatives are wearing these days?”

Halprin’s brow furrowed for only an instant before his sickly sweet smile reappeared masking his annoyance. “I didn’t call to discuss fashion trends Lamont.”

“Then why did you call Trevor? What can I, a junior ambassador light years away from Earth, possibly do for you?”

“Why nothing. Nothing at all.” He chucked which only further enflamed Ian’s growing irritation. “You haven’t changed a bit. It shows. As I was saying earlier, you are something of a rising, but still quite dim star in certain circles. You handled yourself well with the incident between the Romulans and Vulcans.. Oh don’t look so surprised Lamont! Some of us, besides you, have connections. Word is you may even receive a commendation for helping to diffuse the situation. I also have reliable information that indicates you’re on your way to locate, how to say, a person of significant interest at present?”

Ian cloaked his own emotions behind a practiced deadpan expression that could hold its own among the best poker players. Halprin was deliberately toying with him. He always had enjoyed pushing people’s buttons.

“Classified. I had no idea you were so interested in my activities. If you want answers I suggest you go rub elbows with someone at Starfleet Command though it seems you already have.”

“I’m not the one interested in you Ian. I just find it interesting that there are other parties who are interested in you.”

“What? What are you babbling about?”

“Your name has come up several times as of late in mixed company. While you’ve tossed away several years of your life in the pursuit of peace or whatever it is you call it, your rivals are again taking some interest in you and your activities.”

“Rivals? What rivals?”

“Come now Lamont. Drop the act. You know of whom I speak. You may have forgotten while you gallivant around the cosmos bringing rainbows, happiness, and flowers to everyone you meet – but your past has not forgotten you. In fact, I’d say the further you’ve tried to run from it the closer it has gotten – to you that is.”

“This better have damn point Halprin or I’m terminating the channel”, Lamont shouted finally letting his temper momentarily slip from behind his walled, emotionless, façade.

“I’ll come to the point. Your father’s political rivals still view you, his heir, as a threat to them.”

“You can’t be serious”, Lamont chuckled incredulous of the claim.

“Would I be calling otherwise? Listen Lamont, you may not believe me and I don’t care if you do or not, but there are those who have again set their gaze upon you. A war veteran. A decorated soldier. An ambassador. Given your current mission and its importance you may have a grand chance at real notoriety depending on the outcome. Ambassador Spock is an honored and influential elder statesman. Now do you see? Should you return to Earth and pick up where your father left off – your political clout, record, and fame could pose a serious threat certain individuals of our mutual acquaintance.”

“I have no political aspirations back on Earth! That was my father’s domain. His legacy died with him.”

“Perhaps, but I know you Ian. I know you secretly wish to strike back at those who ruined your father and your family. It’s a fire you cannot quench. If you were to ascend and obtain a good measure of clout and power, can you honestly tell me you would not use it to seek revenge – to right the wrongs done to you and your family name?”

“No. My father destroyed himself and our family in a vain attempt to accomplish just such a thing. I won’t follow in his footsteps. It..it isn’t who I am.”

“Like father, like son. You can live in denial if you want. I could care less.”

“Why tell me this Trevor? Why even bother to call me after all these years?”

Halprin grinned. “Let’s just say I enjoy certain sports and even matchups. A rigged game is no fun to watch when you know whose going to win.”

“Win? I’m not sure I follow. Are you implying I’m in some sort of danger?”

“You passed danger sometime ago I’m afraid Ian. It wasn’t until recently that I understood how hot the water was which you have fallen into. Call this a friendly heads up.”

“Friendly? Someone is plotting against me and you couch it in euphemism?”

“As you were always so fond of reminding me, I am a politician after all Ian. What else do you expect? Just don’t go and die on me out there. You are a competent ambassador, but a lousy politician. You have no concept of the gears turning against you. You’ve been out of the loop for far too long and I fear your skills for navigating the waters of political intrigue have been neglected. Peace is a noble cause, but nobility will only get you killed. It’s time to take off the kid gloves Lamont. Like it or not, you’re playing with the big boys now. Do nothing and they will destroy you, just like they did your father. The Lamont name, while tarnished, is not dead. A Phoenix may again rise from its ashes or be crushed under the heel of the powerful elite. Guard yourself. Watch your back. It’s time to stop running Ian. Time to grow up.

I hope we have a chance to speak again. You always were quite interesting. Adieu.”

The screen went black before Lamont had time to respond. He stood there staring at the screen unsure what to make of the conversation. Was Halprin lying? Was he telling the truth? Perhaps he was attempting to manipulate him or perhaps he was working with the very people he had warned him about? No. No. Halprin, was many things, most of which involved slime of the lowest sort, but we was also a shrewd and skilled politician. The man was well educated and highly intelligent. Perhaps this was just a friendly warning in a dangerous game Lamont had only just been made aware of. Perhaps Halprin was simply setting the pieces on a chessboard watching from afar for his own, twisted entertainment. It certainly fit his character.

Halprin may have done the right thing from the wrong reasons – if his information was accurate.

Ian rubbed his chin. He had neglected his contacts during his assignment on the Charon. Halprin was right – he wasn’t as sharp politically as he once was. After years of fighting himself he was finally beginning to mend old wounds – and now this. The wound had been reopened and he would be damned if he would let them bleed him dry like they did his father.

He had some calls to make, some favors to call in, and some facts to obtain. Perhaps he had been running his entire life. Perhaps his day of reckoning with his past was quickly approaching. If formal rivals had declared war once again on the Lamont family, he would answer the challenge and take up arms. He would make them all sorry for their past transgressions. If they could not leave him and his name in peace then he would give them the fight they desired. Justice still cried out for what they had done to him. It was time to draw his sword. Even a blunt weapon could kill – he had to make preparations to sharpen his blade and then decide how best to utilize it.

[ To Be Continued ]

_________________________
Ambassador Ian Lamont

Diplomatic Advisor, USS Charon

[USS Charon] Roll Call

2011-05-26T12:59:00.000-04:00

Just to clarify who is still around so I know who to send some JLs too- sorry for the slowness I modified the storyline so I have to edit and polish them before I send them in - but they should be out tonight. I'm also battling Lyme Disease which isn't fun.

--
Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon
www.usscharon.com

[USS Charon] Sd241105.22 Revised Science Report/ +"Bolian coffee" Duty Log (Sciene Team)

2011-05-22T21:55:00.000-04:00

ON:

//---Shuttlebay 1: Ferengi trading station---//

"I can't believe you actually paid for this." Ensign Vorn, Arcos assistant, said to the stellar cartography assistant, petty officer Roberts. As the two stood looking at a crate of Bolian coffee.

"It's not that big of a deal, he threw in some herbal remidies. Here take a look at the supply chart." Then took a look at the crates he unloaded.

The Ferengi dealer looked over at them both whistled and said "Well I better be going." Then casually entered his shuttle and set course to leave as quickly as he could.

"OH NO…" They both said together. "What are we going to do with 35 kilograms of Bolian herbal coffee!"

//----Science Office---//

"Please explain to me your research project proposal again Mr. Vorn?" Commander Arcos didn't quite get the cutting edge nature of the assignment.

"Well… it's like I said, we are going to put together two laboratory research projects. One in Biology, one in chemistry…"

Arcos listened to the proposal then looked over at Enisgn Vorn. "Alright… sounds like you've got your work cut out for you. Where are you going to get a hold of the "So'latte" herb and the Gorn herbal remidies?"

"Don't worry about that sir… we got a good deal on both a week ago. The supplies are being off loaded as we speak… just one thing. The coffee er herbal solution had to be purchased by the crate."

"So…"

"Well there's going to be a lot left over…"

"Why not open the study up to crew to participate in a clinical trial? Vorn, get talking to the Medical team… see if they have any ideas, otherwise… You two can disperse the extras as gifts from your monthly credit allowances."

The two palm faced… "Our Monthly Credit Allowances?"

--OFF—

Commander Arcos Darye
Chief Science officer
USS CHARON

And

Ensign Vorn
Science Assistant
USS CHARON

And

Petty Officer Roberts
Stellar Cartography Assistant
USS CHARON

//Science Report – USS CHARON – Star Date:241105.22//

---------------------------------------
Index:
__________________________
I. Schedule of Science Command Staff
II. Lab summary Table
III. Lab projects summary
IV. Bridge Functions
V. Damage/repair/casualty Report
VI. Science Commanders Comments
----------------------------------------------------------

I.   Schedule(daily)
Name| position||rank| assignment|
-----------------------------------------
    |first shift |Second shift| third shift|
________________________________________
Arcos Darye| Chief Science Officer| Commander | Department head
    |1)Bridge|2)office hours|3)OFF|
Y. Beindocoff| Stellar Cartography| Lieutenant J.G | Research/Lab Management | NPC
    1)Research/Office| 2)OFF| 3)Bridge
B. Roberts| Beindocoff's Assist| PO3|Research/office| NPC
    1)Research| 2)Office| 3)OFF
S. Vorn| Science Officer| Ensign | Admin Assistant| NPC
    1)OFF|2)Bridge|3)office hours
I. Castillo| Geo Science |Petty Officer 1st| Research/Lab Management| NPC
    1)office hours| 2)research| 3)OFF
M. Blande| Bio Science| Ensign| Research/Lab Management| NPC
    1)Office hours| 2)OFF| 3)Research
T. Yin| Chem Science| Chief Petty Officer | Research/Lab Management| NPC
    1)Research| 2)office hours| 3)OFF
S. Ronsett| Phys Science| Lieutenant J.G | Research/Lab management| NPC
    1)OFF| 2)office hours| 3)Research
Ollanda| Cybernetics| Lieutenant J.G |Research/Lab Management| NPC
        1)OFF| 2)Research| 3)office hours
G. Yellin| Anthropology| Lieutenant J.G |Research/Lab Management| NPC
    1) Research|2) OFF| 3) office hours

C. Smith| Botany| Petty Officer 3^rd class| Plant Care and harvest|

1) OFF| 2) Plant Care| 3) Office/OFF
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Officers: 7|Enlisted: 16: 3 enlisted lab masters, 13 enlisted Lab assistants|
----------------------------------------------------------------

A) Biology: Biology mixes with a lot of the other fields, but the lab is utilized for a majority of the ships biological research including microbe study, cellar study, animal and space creature study, the study of Life, how it works, and how it continues to function today and in yester year.

Biology Officer in-charge: M. Blande |OFFICE HOURS: 1^st shift

CURRENT STUDY SUMMARY:

Lab 1: Local Life Forms – threats, cautions and general study

Lab 2: Edible plants identification (works with botany)

Lab 3: Study of Gorn confederation herbs and remedies.

Progress Update: Study of Gorn herbal remidies will commence tomorrow. Team will continue to research other edible plants of the nearby star systems and look for biological life forms that could pose a threat to away teams. The team will launch several planetary probes to accomplish this task, selecting the most likely planets for the ships destination and then account for research friendly.

B) Chemistry: Chemistry studies the physical nature of life, the study of chemicals and elements how they react and work together with each other. Chemistry often works with biology and physics to come to a closer understanding of what we explore on the ship.

Chemistry Officer in-Charge: T. Yin |OFFICE HOURS: 2^nd Shift

CURRENT STUDY SUMMARY:

Lab 1: Toxins and Chemical benefactors of Local Area

Lab 2: local medicinal secrets (joined with medical)

Lab 3: Study of So'latte: the Bolian coffees

Status update: Team brings in a study of a supply of bulk Bolian coffee equivalent. Team will use known factors of traditional Earth coffee and compare them with the Bolian, as well as investigate claims of the supplier.

C) Geo-sciences: The Geo Sciences department works with anthropology, Stellar Cartography, biology and other fields of science to grab a basis of the physical relationship of ecosystems, glaciations, gravitational pulls, tectonics, and seismic behavior of planets, moons, asteroids, and planetoids.

Geo-Sciences Officer in-Charge: I. Castillo |OFFICE HOURS: 1^st Shift

CURRENT STUDY SUMMARY:

Lab 1: Study of Ecosystems and Geological stability (localized area)

Lab 2: Development of celestial objects (localized area)

Status Update: Team will work with biology to gather planetary data through the launch of six recoverable probes to be designed by cybernetics. Team hopes to gather from a flyby… the ecosystems and geological stability of the six chosen planets.

D) Physics: Physics assists in astrophysics, quantum physics, bio-physics, standard physics. The Physics team answers question in gravitational effects, trajectory, and other physics challenges. Often Physics will work with geology or stellar cartography.

Physics Officer in-Charge: S. Ronsett|OFFICE HOURS: 2^nd Shift

SUMMATION OF CURRENT RESEARCH:

Lab 1: Trajectory/masses/make up of celestial objects in sensor range

Lab 2: Tri-Probe Mission Two

Status Update: Tri-probe data from the previous mission has been categorized, identified, and sent to the computer logs. Mission two will involve preparations for a second "Tri-probe" mission to be utilized on the next nebula research mission. Team is already gathering data on what went well, and what could be changed.

E) Stellar Cartography: Stellar Cartography works with Astro-metrics to provide maps of the galaxy and studies the stars themselves mapping inner corona and outer solar system alike.

Stellar Cartography Officer in-Charge: Y. Beindocoff/B. Roberts |OFFICE HOURS: 1^st shift/2^nd shift

SUMMATION OF CURRENT RESEARCH:

Astro-metrics: Star chart review and update (works with helm/navigation)

Lab 2: (Partnered with physics) Study of Celestial objects

Status Update: Team continues to assist the helm and astronavigators with star charts, while updating, collecting and maintaining the stellar maps. It is likely that team will be able to assist both geo-sciences and physics department again this week. The three teams have worked together on much of the classification and telemetry of celestial objects for several months now.

F) Cybernetics: The team plays a part in science cybernetics and robotics. Together the team assists in probe assembly, repair, research, and equipment programming. These guys play a major role in research set up, and develop new ways to keep us busy and tooling our research.

Cybernetics Officer in-charge: Ollanda |OFFICE HOURS: 3^rd shift

SUMMATION OF CURRENT RESEARCH:

Lab 1: Probe repair/construction/re-programming

Additional task: Maintain science equipment (works with engineering)

Additional task: Tri-probe assembly.

Status Update: Team is assisting engineering with repairs to science equipment, station, performing pre-diagnostics and diagnostics, assisting with calibration of lab equipment and putting together probes for science teams study. In addition the team is preparing second probe construction for the physics experiment.

G) Anthropology: Part of the anthropologies job is to find out what humanoid life is like in surrounding solar systems. They are basically a historian, but also provide an in-depth analysis in to cultures, societies and the way people live now, then… and on many worlds flourishing, dying, or since perished. A lot of the teams focus is providing a guide for officers to use when approaching a world on or off duty.

Anthropology in-charge: G. Yellin |OFFICE HOURS: 3^rd shift

SUMMATION OF CURRENT RESEARCH:

Lab 1: study of local cultures, archeology, and developing peoples (works with ships counselor)

Lab 2: Gorn Confederation: what little we know of their herbs and medicinal secrets.

Status Update: Team is analyzing record banks of all local civilizations and past civilization of passing inhabited or once inhabited celestial objects, natural or artificial. In addition, team is helping to assist ships counselor with current peoples in area's customs, laws, and traditions, and economics. Team adds study of Gorn Confederation ancient herbs and dietary secrets.

H) Botany: The botany team, made up of volunteers and Department head, Petty Officer Chris A. Smith are continuing to care for the plants currently in the lab. Also the botany science team does its best to provide additional foods for the chief to prepare.

SUMMATION OF CURRENT ASSIGNMENT:

Lab1: Care of plant and fungi specimens/care of harvest of edible specimens

Lab1-a: Care for the new Gorn Herb additions, providing live samples for the biology department.

Status Update: Volunteer teams are under the command of Petty Officer Smith. Congratulations Petty Officer Smith,

I) General Science Lab: The General Science lab will be available at request, but is currently on standby for mission specific research. The lab has holo-emitters for research and is shared with other departments as per request; departments can make use of the lab if unused by the science team. The General Science lab is the ships state of the art science laboratory capable of housing six differing experimentations from any science department. The lab assistant is charged with set up and preparing the lab for each team utilizing the lab. Additional assistants can be utilized if necessary from other labs.

GENERAL LAB SCHEDULE: (CURRENT SCHEDULE – one shift open)

Shift 1: Morning coffee: Inner-Department Guest speaker (Science)

Shift 2: Lab prep/clean up

Shift 3: -Open for study-

REQUESTEE|REQUEST DURATION|REQUEST SHIFT(s)|SUMATION OF REQUEST

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

IV. Bridge Operations
______________________________
Science Bridge Crew:
RANK|NAME|POSITION|SCHEDULED SHIFT
----------------------------------

NOTE: The Bridge team is charged with gathering scans for the science department, requesting launch of science probes, and monitoring data for bridge operations. All scans and data can be made available to other departments and teams on request. The science lab teams may also monitor their portion of the scans from the bridge at their request, but is limited to lab masters and the science department officers.
--------------------------------------------
V. Damage/repair/Personnel Report:
__________________________________
LAB/STATION STATUS:
----------------------------------
DAMAGE|EXPECTED DATE OF REPAIR|OPPERATIONAL STATUS
----------------------------------

+Science Labs

All Labs Functioning

+Science Stations

All Stations Functioning

+Science sensors/Deflector

Function in standard norm

STAFF STATUS:
----------------------------------
PERSONNEL|INJURY/LOA|EXPECTED RETURN
-----------------------------------

Officer injured: 0 (0 major – 0 minor – 0 Severe)

Enlisted injured: 0 (0 major – 0 minor – 0 Severe)

Promotion Request:
---------------------------------------
Personnel: Rank|PersonnelName|à New Rank|Name
---------------------------------------

Additions:
--------------------------------------

Addition: Rank|ADDITIONEE|POSITION
--------------------------------------

Training Requested:
---------------------------------------

Training: TRAINEE|POSITION (BYà) TRAINER|POSITION
---------------------------------------

Management Training:

Transfers:
--------------------------------------
Transfer: Rank|TRANSFEREE|POSITION(TOà) POSITION
----------------------------------------

VI. Science Commanders comments
_________________________________________

+Lab Assignments: If you come up with a good research assignment, just begin the process in character by developing a Pre-Lab report. I have attached a request form, just fill it in, and write something in character above about your character putting the report together.

+Training: If you are looking to advance in rank and you are a non-commissioned officer we will develop a role-play training month on in differing lab assistant positions. Once completed you might be promoted to Technician, after you master a lab for another month we should be able to promote you to specialist… at which point you'd be specialized to an inner department. As for leading a lab, we might be able to get you to work on your petty officer rank requirements and start training you on lab set up/and running the lab… not sure on the time requirement on that one, but we should be able to get you working on a story line in character.

+So'latte: Bolian Coffee exports have brought in some samples to be used for the chemistry department. In addition to the samples needed for the lab, a bulk supply has left us in the excess of over thirty kg of "So'latte" Bolian coffee. Inquire with the science department in acquiring yours today.

+Attached Reports: (NONE)

[USS Charon] 241105.22 Duty log/Science Report CSci Cmdr Arcos Darye

2011-05-22T16:22:00.000-04:00

ON:

//--Promotion of Specialist Smith: Assignment to Head of Botany-//

The team had gathered in the General science lab, amongst them were the heads of each of the science department dressed in formal attire. Running in the advanced holo lab, situated in the center of the General science lab was a depiction of a platform with an old wooden podium and a black board behind it. There beside it were chairs to which the sub-department heads were situated. Amongst them was Commander Darye, who held a plaque and PADD loaded with formal acknowledgement he was about to give. In addition there was a black box on his lap. In a few moments he would begin his announcement to the science assembly.

Walking over to the podium the clatter in the background stopped. Arcos cleared his throat, looking over to the Botanist who would be honored at the assembly. She was looking as if she had nerves of steel despite the obvious pressure to hold appearances during the ceremony. Arcos thought to himself that his decision to extend her the duties of charge of the botany depart was well deserved. He looked around to the rest of the room to which the department personnel seemed to be focused upon himself. Taking a deep breath he opened his mouth and started, "Excellence to which we refer to in duty and devotion to studies of science as the reason and logical deduction through which the attainment of theory and law is granted is attributed to every good science officer or personnel aboard this ship. In regard to each and every dedicated science personnel there are some who go beyond excellence to reach a level of strength of character, choosing to take up the courage and devotion to command -That is to which we are here to cite or signify in pertains to the service of one of our science personnel in the field of botany." He paused and looked over at the specialist to whom would be receiving the award.

Specialist Smith… Front and center!" Commander Darye ordered.

"Yes Sir!" The specialist grinned and stood up taking place in front of the podium.

"You have been granted charge of the botany program, to which the duties include but do not summarize in entirety, care and devotion to plant and fungi specimens, command of volunteer and assigned personnel, and cultivation of edible foods from the specimens mention there above." Arcos paused taking a breath. "In addition, because of our policy of such assignment, rank grade of petty officer third class is granted."

The specialist stood at attention looking directly at the podium, grinning and a bit over come with satisfaction. Arcos handed her the plaque and the box with the new pip for petty officer. The Commander looked over to his team whom had stood up. "Science department, Applause is permissible." The team began to clap. "Petty officer Smith… you may return to ranks."

"In addition there is one more thing I must address. The team will be admitting volunteers from other departments to fill the need for duties to which our compliment can not grant in entirety. You are to treat them in both command and service with character deserving of department personnel. That is all. Science ranks, you are dismissed.

OFF

PO3 Smith
Botanist (NPC)
USS Charon

CMDR Arcos Darye
Chief Science officer
USS Charon

//Science Report – USS CHARON – Star Date:241103.07//

---------------------------------------
Index:
__________________________
I. Schedule of Science Command Staff
II. Lab summary Table
III. Lab projects summary
IV. Bridge Functions
V. Damage/repair/casualty Report
VI. Science Commanders Comments
----------------------------------------------------------

I.   Schedule(daily)
Name| position||rank| assignment|
-----------------------------------------
    |first shift |Second shift| third shift|
________________________________________
Arcos Darye| Chief Science Officer| Commander | Department head
    |1)Bridge|2)office hours|3)OFF|
Y. Beindocoff| Stellar Cartography| Lieutenant J.G | Research/Lab Management | NPC
    1)Research/Office| 2)OFF| 3)Bridge
B. Roberts| Beindocoff's Assist| PO3|Research/office| NPC
    1)Research| 2)Office| 3)OFF
S. Vorn| Science Officer| Ensign | Admin Assistant| NPC
    1)OFF|2)Bridge|3)office hours
I. Castillo| Geo Science |Petty Officer 1st| Research/Lab Management| NPC
    1)office hours| 2)research| 3)OFF
M. Blande| Bio Science| Ensign| Research/Lab Management| NPC
    1)Office hours| 2)OFF| 3)Research
T. Yin| Chem Science| Chief Petty Officer | Research/Lab Management| NPC
    1)Research| 2)office hours| 3)OFF
S. Ronsett| Phys Science| Lieutenant J.G | Research/Lab management| NPC
    1)OFF| 2)office hours| 3)Research
Ollanda| Cybernetics| Lieutenant J.G |Research/Lab Management| NPC
        1)OFF| 2)Research| 3)office hours
G. Yellin| Anthropology| Lieutenant J.G |Research/Lab Management| NPC
    1) Research|2) OFF| 3) office hours

C. Smith| Botany| Petty Officer 3^rd class| Plant Care and harvest|

Biology Officer in-charge: M. Blande |OFFICE HOURS: 1^st shift

CURRENT STUDY SUMMARY:

Lab 1: Local Life Forms – threats, cautions and general study

Lab 2: Edible plants identification (works with botany)

Lab 3: Continuance of: "Extract of Gouranni Herb for toxic identification"

Progress Update: Biology lab assignment #3 is completed for the most part. Additional labs for further sample extraction are being completed this week. Team will continue to research other edible plants of the nearby star systems and look for biological life forms that could pose a threat to away teams. The team will launch several planetary probes to accomplish this task, selecting the most likely planets for the ships destination and then account for research friendly.

Chemistry Officer in-Charge: T. Yin |OFFICE HOURS: 2^nd Shift

CURRENT STUDY SUMMARY:

Lab 1: Toxins and Chemical benefactors of Local Area

Lab 2: local medicinal secrets (joined with medical)

Lab 3: Continuance of: "Extract of Ka'al root"

Status update: The Extract from the Klingon root has nearly been completed. All that remains is to continue to mix the root with the Gouranni Herb for toxin neutralization. Once completed the Ka'al roots will be continued to extracted and placed on reserve for the ships chef should the need arise to visit the selected Gourrani planetoid where the conference is being held.

Geo-Sciences Officer in-Charge: I. Castillo |OFFICE HOURS: 1^st Shift

CURRENT STUDY SUMMARY:

Lab 1: Study of Ecosystems and Geological stability (localized area)

Lab 2: Development of celestial objects (localized area)

Physics Officer in-Charge: S. Ronsett|OFFICE HOURS: 2^nd Shift

SUMMATION OF CURRENT RESEARCH:

Lab 1: Trajectory/masses/make up of celestial objects in sensor range

Lab 2: Tri-Probe method

Status Update: Tri-probe data is still being collected in a nebulous region of ionized gases. The nebula contains several asteroids. Although the largest of these is planetary like, it has no atmosphere and is not in rotation around any central star. The team will continue to collect data until probe no longer has uncharted area to cover. Although most of the probe will self destruct or act as a hazard beacon… the logic unit of the probe will be ejected and rendezvoused with at a later date.

E) Stellar Cartography: Stellar Cartography works with Astro-metrics to provide maps of the galaxy and studies the stars themselves mapping inner corona and outer solar system alike.

Stellar Cartography Officer in-Charge: Y. Beindocoff/B. Roberts |OFFICE HOURS: 1^st shift/2^nd shift

SUMMATION OF CURRENT RESEARCH:

Astro-metrics: Star chart review and update (works with helm/navigation)

Lab 2: (Partnered with physics) Study of Celestial objects

Cybernetics Officer in-charge: Ollanda |OFFICE HOURS: 3^rd shift

SUMMATION OF CURRENT RESEARCH:

Lab 1: Probe repair/construction/re-programming

Additional task: Maintain science equipment (works with engineering)

Additional task: Tri-probe assembly.

Status Update: Team is assisting engineering with repairs to science equipment, station, performing pre-diagnostics and diagnostics, assisting with calibration of lab equipment and putting together probes for science teams study. In addition the team is devising the probe assembly of the three probe method being devised by Physics.

Anthropology in-charge: G. Yellin |OFFICE HOURS: 3^rd shift

SUMMATION OF CURRENT RESEARCH:

Lab 1: study of local cultures, archeology, and developing peoples (works with ships counselor)

Lab 2: Continuance of: The study of the Gourrani

H) Botany: The botany team, made up of volunteers and lab assistant Specialist Chris A. Smith are continuing to care for the planet current in the lab. Since the team has no samples yet of Gamma quadrant plants, the focus have been on bordering sectors to the gamma quadrant.

SUMMATION OF CURRENT ASSIGNMENT:

Lab: Care of plant and fungi specimens/care of harvest of edible specimens

Status Update: Volunteer teams are maintaining the lab, Specialist Chris A. Smith is working on lab management training. Upon completion rank grade of Petty Officer 3^rd class will be issued. Administrative team congratulates Specialist Smith.

GENERAL LAB SCHEDULE: (CURRENT SCHEDULE – one shift open)

Shift 1: Morning coffee: Inner-Department Guest speaker (Science)

Shift 2: Lab prep/clean up

Shift 3: -Open for study-

REQUESTEE|REQUEST DURATION|REQUEST SHIFT(s)|SUMATION OF REQUEST

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

IV. Bridge Operations
______________________________
Science Bridge Crew:
RANK|NAME|POSITION|SCHEDULED SHIFT
----------------------------------

+Science Labs

All Labs Functioning

+Science Stations

All Stations Functioning

+Science sensors/Deflector

Function in standard norm

STAFF STATUS:
----------------------------------
PERSONNEL|INJURY/LOA|EXPECTED RETURN
-----------------------------------

Officer injured: 0 (0 major – 0 minor – 0 Severe)

Enlisted injured: 0 (0 major – 0 minor – 0 Severe)

Promotion Request:
---------------------------------------
Personnel: Rank|PersonnelName|à New Rank|Name
---------------------------------------

Spc. C Smith -> PO3 C. Smith, Placed in charge of Botany Department

Additions:
--------------------------------------

Addition: Rank|ADDITIONEE|POSITION
--------------------------------------

Training Requested:
---------------------------------------

Training: TRAINEE|POSITION (BYà) TRAINER|POSITION
---------------------------------------

Management Training:

(Completion)Spc C. Smith| Botany | (BY->) | Cmdr Arcos Darye | CSci

Transfers:
--------------------------------------
Transfer: Rank|TRANSFEREE|POSITION(TOà) POSITION
----------------------------------------

VI. Science Commanders comments
_________________________________________

+Attached Reports:

Lab study request form:

Name and rank:
Position:
Department:

I. Pre Lab report

Purpose:

Materials:

Method/Procedure:

Hypothesis of result:

II. Safety/Hazard Report

For seen Hazards during lab:

Hazard 1:

Hazard 2:

Hazard X:

General safety rules:

1. Wear eye protection

2. Know location and operation of safety equipment in lab and emergency devices

3. Never work in laboratory alone

4. Do only the experiment approved for the lab

5. Do not wear personal clothing that is not pre-approved for lab use

6. Report all accidents to Lab Master.

7. Do not make oral contact with objects in lab

8. Be mindful of the appearance of strange odors

9. Keep the Laboratory clean. Clean up spills immediately

10. Check lab equipment prior to lab and only use equipment in good condition

11. Check temperature reading on all objects in experiment before reaching. Avoid physical touch of hot objects.

12. Read reagent listings on any known reactions for reagents used in experiment.

13. Clean hands thoroughly prior to leaving lab to avoid oral contamination and optical damage.

III. Authorization Request

Time/shift research is done: Additional Days of study:

Lab requested: Personnel requested:

Estimated Set up time required: Estimated take down time required:

Science team member requesting:

Comments:

[USS Charon] SD241105.22 - Duty Log "Faith" - Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu

2011-05-22T15:08:00.000-04:00

"It's not dying for faith that's so hard, it's living up to it." - William M. Thackeray

Note: This occurs approximately 4 hours after the events of Night Fall 3

[USS Charon, Captain's Quarters]

The light of the viewer gave the dim room a blue ambience. Behind Shiarrael, on the couch, her twins were sound asleep with Nohtho draping himself across the entire length of the couch's legs like a long soft carpet to catch the children should they fall. In front of her was the viewer dominated by a sleepless Trill president. The volume was low but it was certainly loud enough for Shiarrael to hear the president's frustrated sigh.

"Captain- I have put a lot of faith into you. You have to understand that with your position and the political dynamic of the Federation if you take a leave of absence now you may never be able to return. Do you know how much trouble Enor went through to play you into that position? Now he's dead and his detractors are relentless in trying to get rid of you. What about his murder? What about Spock? You assured me you would handle this Captain."

"I'm sorry madam President. However, I am of no use to you in my current state. It is a matter of Mnhei'Sahe and much of what needs to be done cannot be done while I wear the uniform of Starfleet. I will find Spock- I assure you. I still have allies in the Empire but it cannot be done if I am bounded by your rules and regulations." Shiarrael took in a deep breath "this is the only way Madam President."

Alazera frowned deeply "I won't pretend to understand the Romulan honor system- or the Klingon's for that matter. If you say this is the only way then I will have to trust what you say. Not that I don't find this all pretty damn ridiculous- however, Captain, even if you do not wear that uniform you still represent Starfleet. You will still represent the Federation. I hope you will consider that before you go off and do whatever it is you are about to go off and do. Also, this will leave me in a very big imposition. I'm not sure who they can replace you with that will have your level of knowledge of the Romulan inner system."

"I'm afraid this will be a very bloody affair madam President Starfleet representation aside. However, there is one other person with similar knowledge. Though I do not believe he will be pleased with such an assignment but he is not the kind to disregard an order." Shiarrael smiled slightly wondering what he would do when he heard she suggested him? At least she could have a little pleasure during this bitter moment.

"Captain- I'm not sure if you understand how things work but in the future save the details. Shed the blood and then tell me later so I can tell everyone else I had no idea what the fuck you were up to. Telling me ahead of time just makes it worse because now all I can say is I knew what you were up to but couldn't do a damn thing about it, and that makes me look bad." Prim grimaced and leaned back in her chair "I think I know who you're referencing. I'll pass the suggestion along to the commander in chief and Captain..." She looked at Shiarrael "there are many who do not but I trusted Enor in his decision and I share his faith in you. I hope you do not disappoint me."
"I understand madam president." Shiarrael said quietly just before the signal ended and was replaced by a rotating Federation emblem. She made her way to the kitchen and sat down across from a half finished bottle of Ale. It was uncommon for her to drink that poison but today she needed it. She requested and it was granted that the crew should not be informed of her departure until the replacement arrived. it would make things easier- perhaps even ease some suspicion but there was no avoiding informing once officer. No- she would have to tell Sakarra. She owed her that much at least.

Picking up the bottle she took an unhealthy swig and looked at the children sleeping on the couch. And my poor children, she thought. They will never know their grandparents as well as they should have. I must be careful or they will never know their mother as well as they should have. The morbid thought was sobering and she set the bottle down. She had contacted Maiek and he had agreed to care for the children for her- at least they would be in good hands while she was gone. Standing up she made her way to the bedroom to prepare for her journey into hell.

[End]

--
Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon
www.usscharon.com

[USS Charon] SD241105.22 - Personal/Duty Log "Night Fall" Pt 3 - Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu

2011-05-22T14:26:00.000-04:00

Note: This log occurs approximately 12 hours after the events of Night Fall Part 2

"It is not the errors of others, but our own miscalculations, on which we wreak our lasting vengeance. It is ourselves that we cannot forgive." William Hazlitt

[Romulus, Khre'Riov Taleirrh Residence]

The flitter had came with the first morning light as Taleirrh had assured her, not that Shiarrael found any comfort in the consistency. Taleirrh had always been a clever girl and it was always dangerous to enter a Thrai's nest. It seem the Khre'Riov's residence was located in the admiralty quarter of I'Ramnau- a section of apartments for the highest ranking military officials in the Galae. That she may run into a few old acquaintances irritated her. It was then the flitter slowed and lowered towards a side curb along the long broad roadway. The door slide open and Shiarrael stepped out- she immediate noticed several sharp gazes fall upon her but ignored them.

"Shiarrael, welcome." Taleirrh was standing at the doorway to her apartment wearing a casual shirt and a pair of colorless grey pants. "It seems they recognize you." She smiled, nodded at the gazes with apparent amusement and then turned beckoning Shiarrael to follow her in "I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable would you like a drink? Do you still favor rhennish or would you like something more terran? I have some of their sour citrus concoction called 'orange juice' strange stuff at that- but it does well mixed with a little ale."

"Mixed with ale?" Shiarrael chuckled feeling her tension ease slightly. She made her way around the rather colorful apartment picking up trinkets here and there to gaze at while she waited for her host. "You gave me a warning Taleirrh" Shiarrael said as she picked up a bronze pyramid shaped object that held an eye at its center. She set it down as Taleirrh reappeared with a bottle of rhennsih and two glasses and set them on a small table nearby. Shiarrael turned to face her "by distant blood were you referring to Ro'Wena t'Rehu?"

Taleirrh smiled and popped open the bottle of rhennish filling both glasses. "What did I mean? Ah yes, that bit of advice." She picked up one of the glasses and held it out for Shiarrael to take "I knew you were good Shiarrael. Very good. So you found out. I'm curious but it doesn't really matter how. Indeed your cousin is responsible and because it is a intra-clan feud there is no reason for others to involve themselves. She has built herself quite a powerbase you know. She is now an Ael'Riov but works under Argelian in the command infrastructure. Ever since your fall from grace she has been trying to push you out. Apparently she grew impatient with your parents' reluctance. After all- you're not officially a traitor but everyone knows otherwise."

Shiarrael sipped the rhennish ignoring the last comment and focusing her thoughts on the others "she works under Argelian?" Her teeth grinded as she began to squeeze the glass in her hands "are you telling me that this is the reason why he has tried so hard to dissuade me? Is he aware of this? I do not believe..."

"Believe what you will Shiarrael. You always have. I am just telling you what I know. Whether or not Argelian is aware of this is unimportant. Ro'Wena used news of you foiling Itsak's plan to cloak the true nature of what happened to your parents. It was not really about you- I'm sure you've figured this by now? She has wanted her family to lead S'Rehu (clan rehu) for quite some time. You simply offered her reason and opportunity. Though, I must admit, she is quite brazen." Taleirrh smirked and sipped the violet liquid swirling in her glass "there was a time when few would tempt your ire- a time when Riov Yhisu would just as easily as gut a fool on her bridge as she would sip a glass of rhennish. Though it appears quite true that time changes things."

"Things certainly do change." Shiarrael replied, her tone colder then space itself. She looked at Taleirrh less concerned and more agitated "you offered to assist me. I know you Taleirrh- and while time may change some things, it's very difficult to change someone's nature." Shiarrael released her tight grip on the glass and sipped her rhennish before finishing "and you have always been good when it comes to things that benefit you. So, you will assist me, but why? How does this aid you?"

"Simple politics." A third voice said from the backroom. Taleirrh wore a broad grin as the figure walked out. He was tall with broad shoulders- a clever expression on his face. His hair was pure iron save for a tiny speck of silver beginning to grace the edges of his sideburns and his eyes were black as night. His cheeks were high but thin and his chin only slightly protruded.   There was a familiarity about him but Shiarrael couldn't quite place it. He wore a Galae uniform- EnRiov by the insignia. "I'm sorry- I should introduce myself. EnRiov Terrh tr'Radiak. Commander of the fourth Galae."

"I see some things never change." Shiarrael commented wearily at the sudden appearance of this new 'guest' who had heard everything already. "And what simple politics would this be? Forgive my ignorance but I'm sure you are already well aware I have been absent for awhile. I am not really familiar with current politics but I'm sure it still involves treachery and bloodshed."

"Ah, is that the infamous sarcasm I've heard so much about?" Terrh looked at Taleirrh with a smirk "but indeed" he returned his gaze to Shiarrael "what is politics without a little fire to make it interesting?" He chuckled briefly "But now I will get to the point. Argelian is set to retire. Not many know this but he has given the rest of the high command notice of his intentions. He has suggested EnRiov Joalin t'Verenik as his replacement. Odd no? One would have thought he would have suggested tr'Shiarkek who has been serving him as deputy for the past few years. Joalin is close to the gilgamma- we cannot have that. The next Galae'EnRiov must be a zorek or a zorek ally. Your cousin supports this as do some others- it will be very close on who is decided upon depending on minor influences. If she becomes hru'hfirh (lord) of S'Rehu it will tip things in their favor. We cannot allow that."

"Simple politics I see." As if there was anything simple about all that tripe. Shiarrael sighed and considered it for a moment "so you will help me?" She looked at the pair "you will help me kill Ro'Wena and the allies that aided her in murdering my parents? You will also help me move the seat of S'Rehu from this hellhole to ch'Ahuian?"

The answer was a long silence. So they didn't expect this from me? Shiarrael wondered. Did they think I had changed that much? That my anger could be quenched so easily without a rightful vengeance? Simple politics was it? There is more to this I know, but what I do not.

Finally Taleirrh spoke up as Terrh seemed to be still considering what Shiarrael said "it will be nasty affair Shiarrael. Killing Ro'Wena will be very dirty. Very bloody. Argelian will not be pleased either. However," she smirked "if that is what you want then I will aid you as best I can. Forgive what I said earlier- I was wrong. You still have that bloodlust in you. Though, I do have one question. How will you reconcile so much bloodshed with suit you are wearing? Certainly Starfleet doesn't have stomach for this kind of work."

"No, they don't." Shiarrael pulled off her commbadge and set it on the table next to the bottle of rhennish "from this moment I will not be involved with Starfleet until this matter is settled."

"Hmm." Terrh looked up interested "so you will leave Starfleet to do this." He grinned "you know- there is still a place for you in the Galae t'Rehu. If you give us information on their border security- their contingency plans...certainly such a wealth of information could see you given a wing- or maybe even a fleet if the right person were to become Galae'EnRiov. You would have the power to seek vengeance on the people who murdered your parents yourself and your support..."

"Please do not tease me with such vileness. Perhaps most of the empire has forgotten the meaning of Mnhei'Sahe but I have not." Shiarrael threw the glass of rhennish onto the flood letting it shatter around Radiak's feet "I will not betray my crew. Not even to avenge my parents. Now if you both will excuse me. I have some planning to do." She turned around and walked away.

[End]

--
Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon
www.usscharon.com

[USS Charon] SD241105.21 - Personal Log "Night Fall" Pt 2 - Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu

2011-05-22T01:30:00.000-04:00

Publius Cornelius Tacitus - "The hatred of relatives is the most violent."

[Romulus, rural edge of Nn'Verih]

Night had fallen since Shiarrael left her family's estate. She had ordered the driver to take her to the rural outskirts of Nn'Verih- an hour later the flitter was still lofting above a now fog strewn landscape. The rural street lamps appeared to be merely bright globs of misty light in the haze. She stared dreamily through the window at the dark landscape feeling as if reality had betrayed her. The gentle hum of the flitters engine caused her exhaustion to flirt with slumber but sheer will kept the weight of her eyelids at bay. It had been a long day and she feared it would be an even longer night.

"We have arrived." The driver stated in a raspy baritone that lifted Shiarrael's mind back into the present.

"Good." She stated, her voice tinged with the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her. The globs of light in the mist began to grow as the flitter descended. She could hardly discern the ground from the blackness that surrounded them until the flitter jerked suddenly as it touched the surface. The side doors opened and Shiarrael stepped out. She could barely make out the structure ahead of her through the dense fog but a familiar voice called out to her.

"Shia...?" The voice was age-worn and hoarse but it was filled with a warmth she had almost forgotten. Making her way through the fog towards the structure she could see the arched glow of an open door. When she neared it she could see the slightly hunched silhouette of Maiek tr'Vaelet, her family's old hru'hfe. When he saw her his head lowered "I am truly pleased to see you Shiarrael. It has been so long."

Shiarrael smiled and nodded her head as she reached out and patted the old Rihannsu on the shoulder "I have missed you greatly hru'hfe." She then sighed and stopped "I believe you know why I have come."

He looked up and her and nodded his head somewhat taken aback by her action. She had changed- being with the humans and the others had definitely changed this girl. Maiek looked into her eyes and then nodded gravely "yes, I know, I can see it in your eyes Shiarrael. " He took a slow step back and beckoned her in with a welcoming swoop of his arm towards the interior. "It is not much but it is warm and my home."

"It is very quaint Maiek but lovely nonetheless." Shiarrael stepped inside. The interior was dim save for the flicker of firelight from a stone fireplace that dominated the center of the main room. He motioned to a plush couch to one side of the fireplace and she accepted his invitation by sitting down. The old Rihannsu disappeared into the darkness only to return moments later with a tray of glasses. He handed her a glass and then took the chair opposite of her setting the tray down between them.

"Rhennish- I heard from your mother, many years ago, how you have grown to like this stuff while you were in the Galae. I hope it still holds true. I have kept a small amount- in the case you visited me one day." He held up his glass towards her.

Shiarrael had started to sip the liquid but then stopped with her lip hovering just above the glass's edge. She looked at the old man whose figure was mostly obscured by the dimness and felt an aching for her grandfather. The two had been so similar- but then as she recalled it Maiek became the Rehu hru'hfe because he had served with her grandfather over a century ago. "I am sorry I have been so late in this gesture."

"No it is all right Shiarrael- I am now an old man with only his memories to cling to. I still remember you as this young bright eyed child always holding her mother's hand." He sipped his drink "but that was long ago. Things have changed." He sighed "I have lived a very long time Shiarrael. Not quite as long as the old Praetor AAnikh but long enough to see what my eyes can't tell me. When I looked into your eyes I saw that young girl but I could also feel the vengeance fomenting in your mind. If I asked you leave here- leave Romulus and continue with your current life without concern for what happened to your parents- you would not be able to would you?"

"How can you suggest such a thing?" Shiarrael set her glass of rhennish down on the tray "because of me they were..." her voice trailed off as she stared at the hru'hfe "I cannot leave without my right of blood. I will never be able to live with myself after what I have done. I must find out who did this and return to them tenfold what they have given me."

Maiek sighed "and even with all this time amongst those aliens you still haven't learned to keep your temper in check." He pointed at the tray "take a spoon full of that salt and pour it into the cup of water. Drink it, and tell me what it taste like."

Shiarrael stared at her hru'hfe a bit dumbfounded but complied and dipped a spoonful of salt into one of the other glasses. She lifted it and took a sip cringing as she did. Looking at the hru'hfe she frowned "it taste bitter."

"I once poured salt into a lake." Maiek said and pointed to another glass on the tray "and then I drew water from it. Taste it."

"I don't have time for-"

"Taste it!" Maiek slammed his foot into the wooden floor as he barked at her. A flash of her childhood slipped into her mind as she recalled the old hru'hfe disciplining her as child once for playing with her thrai in the kitchen. With a simple nod she complied and picked up the other glass and taking a small sip of it.

"It taste normal- like water." Shiarrael said wondering if the old man was senile.

"Bitterness is a part of life Shiarrael." Maiek said as he pointed to the tray again. His voice was hoarse as he continued "whether or not that bitterness overtakes you depends on the container you keep it in. Remember it well."

She simply nodded at him somewhat understanding the point he was trying to make. But her mind lingered on why. Why was he trying to do all this? Did he know who killed her parents? The tension in the fire lit room began to increase as she waited.

"I don't remember it as well as I should. What happened that night. But what I remember best is the loudness- the rudeness. The shouts and screams as those fools tore through the grand door. I was uncertain- was my old mind playing tricks on me? It cannot be?" He looked across at Shiarrael a flicker of a smile shown on his face "it was hard for me to imagine that anyone could be so bold. Your parents were always well known for their ferocity. Yet, it was true. They tore through the door and were met by the house guard who they killed simply by numbers. When I realized what was happening I made my way through the hall towards your parents bedchamber. Several of the other servants behind me were being butchered by this advancing hoard as well. It was truly like a dream however, when I neared the bedchamber the door burst open. Your parents emerged with their gleaming Kaleh. They rushed past me and began slaughtering the hoard."

Shiarrael stared at him, as her mind pieced together what he was telling her. She imagined the people that broke inter her family's estate: a rag tag group but a large number of them. They easily overcame the small number of guards her family kept in the house. The servants flurrying to find out what was going on became obstacles which the attackers simply cutting through them- and then her parents emerged to aid the house staff. No doubt they did. To allow them to be slaughtered would have stained the house. She sighed "and what then?"

"It was such a sight but there were simply too many. Your father told me 'leave, Maiek! Leave! She will come looking for you!' He had one of the other servants take me away, afraid my own legs wouldn't carry me far enough." He sipped his rhennish "we watched from a distance as the fire began- wondered if it would all burn down and through this all..." his voice trailed off as he stared into emptiness "not a single fire battalion not a single security commandant. Nothing. Except silence and flame."

"and do you know who did this?" Shiarrael asked. She studied the old man- his features were mostly hidden by the firelight but she could still discern the look of uncertainty on his face. He knew something. Something he was afraid to share. "You must tell me whatever it is you know."

"I am not sure if what I know is helpful Shiarrael." Maiek said "it concerns me too much. You should not have come. It is too dangerous for you here." He paused "but then you knew that, yes, you would have known it. Very well." He stood up and slowly meandered to a large window in the corner of the room "I doubt it was one of your adversaries Shiarrael- do not blame yourself so much. To kill the heads of S'Rehu is truly a great scandal few could survive. Very few. The day before this happened I heard your parents in heated debate. It was about your cousin Ro'Wena- she wanted them to reject you. Remove your name from the house. They refused..."

"Ro'Wena?" That was a name Shiarrael had not heard for many years- decades even. The last time Shiarrael had seen her cousin, Ro'Wena was just a young girl and Shiarrael had just joined the Galae. Is this what Taleirrh meant about distant blood? Shiarrael was stunned by the revelation. If she was responsible it would be a very difficult affair.

[To be continued]

--
Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon
www.usscharon.com

[USS Charon] SD241104.21 - Personal Log "Night Fall" Pt 2 - Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu

2011-05-22T00:41:00.000-04:00

[USS Charon] SD241104.14 - Personal Log "Night Fall" Pt 1 - Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu

2011-05-14T19:10:00.000-04:00

[Romulus, T'Rehu Estate]

A gust of wind blew through the shattered window sending tattered curtains fluttering wildly. Shiarrael reached out and grabbed the jostling fabric jerking it loose from the railing before releasing her grip and letting it fall onto the glass strewn floor. She gritted her teeth and turned around looking at Argelian "was this my doing?"

"It will do you little good to become too involved Shiarrael." Argelian turned around and looked at her- his eyes were hollow and his cheeks bones were faintly visible. The past few years as Galae'EnRiov had definitely worn him down. "This is all I can do for you. We will find the culprits but this is no longer your place."

While she had some sympathy towards the Galae'EnRiov it nowhere near outweighed her burgeoning rage. "They murdered my parents. Do you expect me to be still?"

His eyes narrowed "do not cause trouble Shiarrael. You are a friend but you are no longer Rihannsu. You do not have the power to do anything here. Causing trouble here will only make your mission impossible and place me in a difficult position. If you insist, however, then I will be forced to banish you and your ship from the system."

She trembled but bit her tongue and nodded her head "I understand Argelian." Turning her back to him she made her way towards the large arching doors that led into the foyer- shattered glass grinding beneath her boots as she walked. Shiarrael stopped and pressed her hang against the aged dark-wood turning her eyes behind her at the Galae'EnRiov. You have changed- she thought with bitterness. This world was more foreign to her then she remembered. Pushing the heavy wooden door aside she walked out.

[Estate Grounds]

Shiarrael's boot steps were heavy as she made her way down the marble staircase that spiraled out from the lattice and past one of the grand pillars. The normal grey-black marble was stained with blotches of green- her eyes watered at the sight but she kept her fury in check. When she reached the stoned pathway that curved towards the flitter she noticed a small lithe figure in a Galae uniform standing in front of her flitter. Shiarrael stopped midway down the path and called out to the stranger "can I help you?"

"Have you forgotten me already?" The figure turned revealing her face. Her features were soft but pleasant- lacking the rigid features prominent among many Romulans along with long glossy raven hair that was draped across the front of the woman's uniform down to the middle of her left breast. The glowing amber eyes of this person was familiar.

"Taleirrh?" Shiarrael could barely contain her surprise. Taleirrh t'Illialhlae was her last RS aboard the Saeihr'llaiir. "I cannot believe it!" Her voice flickered with enthusiasm but her smile showed caution as she walked up to her old friend "you appear to have done well. Khre'Riov?"

"Well?" Taleirrh laughed "I just managed to pet the right fools and eliminate my obstacles. Quite an easy task for anyone motivated enough." She smiled, but there was a hint of danger hidden in that warm expression. Shiarrael noted this and decided to tread with added caution. They had once been very close- but as with most things time can change even the staunchest of allies.

"What are you doing here?" Shiarrael asked while smiling to soften the interrogative nature of her question- the curiosity, the hesitation, and hidden within it all the inherent distrust she felt towards anything unfamiliar.

"To help." Taleirrh peered across Shiarrael's shoulder and smirked. Shiarrael turned around to see Argelian exiting the estate and walking towards them. Upon noticing Taleirrh he visibly tensed and the atmosphere suddenly became frigid.

"Jolan'tru Galae'EnRiov. You look well I see." Taleirrh might as well had dumped liquid nitrogen onto them as her greeting was equally if not more so frigid then the expression on Argelian's face. For his part Argelian simply nodded his head.

"The Tal'Diann must not be very busy if you have time to preoccupy yourself with mischief Khre'Riov." Argelian's eyes seemed to flicker in the brightness of Eisn as he walked past the pair and continued on towards his flitter and escorts. Silence continued until the flitter's engine roared and hovered off into the distance.

Shiarrael looked at Taleirrh "you two appear to be on good terms." She grinned but felt unsure about the situation. Her eyes focused on the departing flitter as it shrunk into the horizon along with a fleet of escorts "things have changed greatly in two years."

Taleirrh smiled "two years is a lifetime." She reached over and grabbed Shiarrael's shoulder "I knew Argelian would not help you. He is too political these days. Since AAnikh passed he has lost his composure and bows to the whims of the senate- a shame, but not something we should dwell on. I came here to offer my assistance."

"Assistance?" Shiarrael asked, surprised.

"Yes, why do you look surprised?" Taleirrh chuckled "no matter- but not here. I will send an escort for you later." She turned and walked towards her flitter "and Shiarrael. Some advice- do not trust anyone. Not even your own distant blood."

As Taleirrh entered the driver compartment of her flitter Shiarrael stood still pondering her words. Not even my own distant blood? Was this a hint as to who killed her parents? She frowned. Cryptic statements were the dung of the Tal'Shiarr- that the Tal'Diann could no longer be direct frustrated her.

[USS Charon] SD 241105.09 || Character Story || "Die Tonight, Live Forever", Part V || Ens. Landon Neyes, NPCs

2011-05-09T17:32:00.000-04:00

<< Again, another piece of Landon's back-story. To catch up or review, see the first four: http://www.usscharon.com/index.php?title=Die_Tonight,_Live_Forever:_Chapter_I . It's been slow in the making I know, but I have nothing else to do right now; expect to see it finished. >>

=/\= Trillian Civilian Ship (TCS) Nodlan, SD 240605.01 =/\=

After showing them his ship, which in a moment of uncertain cleverness he'd named the "Nodlan", they promptly launched in the direction of some unknown destination. Neyes knew exactly where he was going, but he had refused to divulge that to his colleagues.

They hadn't been in space for an hour before the counselor started in on her tirade about protocol again. As the collected and oh-so-proper voice rang out its disapproval of his activities, Landon's eyes slowly rolled back and closed in annoyance. He was resisting the urge to lock her in the sleeping quarters, and every second he didn't was a second he regretted. She had first found the ship itself to be something less than appropriate for someone of her status. As if being a counselor afforded her special treatment on a non-sanctioned mission of his own personal interest. Secondly, she protested his continuing unwillingness to be a part of her counseling activities. Now... he was flying too fast. As if he had any control over the dynamics of warp travel.

"Please." He sighed. "Just... Please, Counselor." Landon's voice was tired and withholding.

"You are getting a little out of control, Odalla."

The Trill counselor immediately let her frustration be known as she slammed down her PADDs onto the rear controls. "HOW am I supposed to get any work done with you, Ensign?! You refuse to talk about anything other than this shuttle, and even then you color it with alien terms neither one of us can understand? Have you forgotten the Trill language altogether?" She fumed, arms now crossed over her chest.

Landon smiled, probably with more satisfaction than he should have. "Actually, I probably know it better than you do now. I just don't care to show it off to everyone."

Her mouth opened in protest, stricken by his back-handed comment.

With a resigned roll of his eyes, Neyes let her attitude slide. There was no point in exchanging repartee with her for the next few days. He felt silly trying to speak his feelings to her, and especially in front of his closest friend. Greg was really alien to all this. Odalla and Neyes were both from Trill. She was particularly 'comfortable', being a counselor who handles newly joined officers on a regular basis. Greg had to at least feel a little out of place, and Landon didn't want to make it any worse for him. He felt it wasn't necessary, and anything she had to say to him was something he was going to figure out on his own eventually anyway. He'd managed for the last 700 years or so without a baby-sitter...

"I'm here, but someone's watching everything I do. The weird part is that it feels like it's me who's watching. I'm watching myself. It's hard to explain. How's that? That helpful? Can you get some work done now? We've got another four hours of traveling ahead of us, so you'd probably be better off if you made it stretch." He looked over his shoulder towards her in the back. He gave her a warning and incredulous wink as she stared back at him.

Odalla remained silent for a moment as she gathered her devices and snapped back into her professional mode of attitude, suddenly charged with renewed purpose. "Oh well, I see you've wanted to talk all this time." Her voice rang with an self-important slight. "I knew I'd eventually manage to get something out of you."

"You don't have to try that hard." Landon said as he continued to work the controls. "You just have to try not to be such a bitch. After that I'm sure you'll go places." He smiled.

Greg snorted a quick laugh and immediately stifled his surprise at hearing Landon say 'bitch'.

An uncomfortable silence filled the cabin, with both the men realizing they may have crossed some unseen line. Odalla was many things, but meaningfully hurtful wasn't one of them. Her demeanor slowly solidified into a stonewall, as she quietly excused herself from the main cabin and moved into one of the aft quarters. The doors slid shut with an almost palpable attitude, and both Landon and Greg sat in the quiet of their thoughts for a moment before either one made any kind of motion. With no one really knowing what he was up to, Landon understood why tensions would be high. Greg was tagging along out of trust and loyalty to his friend, and Odalla felt pride in doing whatever was necessary to do her job. If that meant she followed her charge on a crazy space ride to an unknown destination, so be it. He respecter her for that, but it wasn't going to be enough to get in his way.

Greg stood and walked up to the co-pilot's controls at the front of the small bridge. Taking the seat, he activated the panel and tapped a few buttons. Neyes already knew what was going on. "I can't tell you where we're going, Greg."

"But why, Donny-

"Don't call me that."

Landon looked over when he heard Greg slam his fist down onto the control panel. It fizzled then went black, a similarly dark and frustrated expression covered Greg's face. "That's the most immense load of bullshit about this so far, Landon."

Neyes looked down then continued to work the controls, deciding he'd just let Greg have this one.

"I'm your best friend. I have been since we met at the mixer when we were accepted to the Academy. You were weird, unsure and sickeningly ambitious. Now you're cocky and arrogant and know how to do things no one should know. You're name's different and you don't act the same. You're still Donny to me, though, Landon. You're always going to be fucking Donny until the day you die. You've been Neyes for barely a week, practically. I know you don't feel the same, or whatever, but I don't understand. Shouldn't someone like you just GET that I need to hold onto my friend? Aren't you wise beyond all measure and know the secrets of living forever? I need you to keep being Donny. Or else we're not friends anymore. We might as well be strangers if I can't at least hold onto that, don't you see that?!"

The words stung a little. For what he knew, Landon was familiar with just about every feeling someone could know. They still hurt though, even after everything he could recall happening to him. This never got easier. "You're right, Greg."

"Goddamn right I'm right." Greg said, rubbing his hand angrily.

A little grin turned up the corner of Neyes' mouth. His voice caught for a moment as he tried to compose himself. "Call me whatever you want." He turned at looked straight at his friend. His best friend. "I'm still me. Realistically, anyway. I remember that guy you're talking about, and I feel like he's a part of who I am. But... Greg. I know things..." Neyes' eyes belied a hint of fear as he spoke, as if the words would strike out at him for simply uttering the sentence. "I know so much about things I can't even begin to describe to you. There are secrets about the world we live in... I can't be the same guy you knew before. I'm going to be Neyes whether either one of us can handle it or not. Sometimes I wish I could go back home and forget about all this, but we both know it's not possible and we have to deal with the way things have happened.

"I'm still me though, and we're still us. Greg and Donny, unstoppable force of nightmares." Landon grinned, holding out his hand in a familiar fashion.

Greg looked at him for a long moment. The look on his face made Landon think perhaps his expressions of honesty weren't enough to win his friend over. They had been friends for a good deal of Landon's life so far, and he felt like it was important to at least try to hold onto something stable right now. Partly because he wanted it, and partly because he needed it.

With a sigh, Greg also held out his hand. They shook like normal, then proceeded with their secret handshake. A wiggle of the fingers, some odd motions and a whistle. It was odd, but it had almost always made Landon laugh. This time was no different.

=/\= TBC =/\=

[USS Charon] SD241104.05 || "Flying Blind" || Lt. Leon Athalla

2011-04-07T01:09:00.001-04:00

U.S.S. Charon
Luna Class Starship

“Flying Blind – Part 1”
________________________________

“LIEUTENANT!”

A cold glass of water sunk its icy fangs into the warm skin of a peacefully slumbering Leon Athalla. The pilot jerked upwards his heart pounding as adrenaline surged through his body. Behind him stood Lt. Commander Hughes wearing an expression that could only mean one thing. He was in trouble…again.

“LIEUTENANT, you were scheduled for maintenance duty at 0700 in the main shuttlebay!”

Wiping cold water from his dripping face and chest, Leon was beyond annoyed. Belligerence was quickly approaching even if the officer was his superior. He had no right to wake the ship’s best combat pilot in such a crude, undignified manner.

“I am well aware of the duty assignments Commander”, Athalla fired back despite lingering confusion and disorientation. “I will report to my duties at the appointed time and I do not desire or require reminders from you!”

“Lieutenant it is 0930!”

Athalla squinted in the bright light to make out the chronometer on the far wall. It couldn’t be. He had…

A sheepish grin spread to his lips as he stood. “I will return at once. I came in to locate a padd and I must have dozed off by accident. We have all been putting in the hours this week preparing for our next mission and resupplying…”

“Cut the bullshit lieutenant. You are confined to quarters for the next three days when you are not on duty and you can pull some extra shifts since you will have additional free time. I don’t know who your former superiors were, but I don’t tolerate slackers. Hotshot pilot or not, you are going to clean yourself up and report for duty at once is that understood?”

“Should I report for duty first and then clean up or vice versa”, Athalla bluntly asked.

“Wise guy. You just bought yourself seven days of confinement. Want to try for the brig lieutenant?”

“No sir.”

“Then I suggest you learn to keep that mouth of yours shut. Now get out of my sight before I decide to have you marinate in a brig cell for the next two weeks!”

Athalla saluted and made his way out of the pilot’s lounge.

He despised that man. Lt. Commander Hughes had transferred aboard on Vulcan as interim deck officer. He was in charge of maintaining the shuttlebay, shuttles, fighters, and to a degree the pilots. Starfleet had made some suggestions to Captain Rehu for their current mission and Hughes was one of those suggestions. Athalla hoped the man was temporary or else it was very likely there would be a brilliant display of fireworks in the very near future.

Sometime Later…

“Have we checked the manifests for those torpedoes”, Athalla muttered glancing at a padd surrounded by various deck crews. The small number of fighters the Charon kept aboard were being prepped for combat given the deteriorating situation with the Romulan Empire. Why he, a pilot, had been put in charge of routine maintenance was beyond him. He blamed Hughes. The man had had it out for him since his boots had touched the Charon’s decks. One week out of spacedock and he already wanted to kill the man.

“No. I thought you had checked them sir?”

Athalla rubbed his head. “So we are in the process of loading dangerous weapons onto spacecraft and no one knows where the paperwork is? Any approvals? Manifests? Heaven forbid we actually have an inventory sheet! Do I have to do everything myself”, Athalla snapped. “Not to mention the half dozen safety protocols that were just broken.”

“HEY YOU”, Leon shouted at a deck team working to load a rack of torpedoes into one of the fighters. “Stop touching those torpedoes! For all we know they could be filled with paint. Everyone take five while I go sort out the paperwork issues in flight control.”

Leon shoved his padd under his arm and stormed off toward the flight operations booth. “What are we paying these people for”, he muttered under his breath as he stormed across the newly repaired shuttlebay deck. His anger had subsided some as he reached the booth to review computer records. It wasn’t exactly their fault. There were a lot of new faces on the flight deck since they had left Vulcan. It would take some time for them to regain team cohesion. Still he hoped they figured it out soon before they drove him insane with these silly, clerical distractions.

He sighed as he ran through cargo manifests looking for authorization paperwork and inventory files. Athalla had been born to fly. Performing administrative tasks and overseeing maintenance activities was not in his DNA. He wanted to be out there among the stars, not cooped up searching for misfiled paperwork.

Athalla suddenly grabbed his forehead as a wave of dizziness washed over him. It passed as quickly as it had arrived. Perhaps he had been working or even drinking a touch too much the past few days. He really needed to call it quits at four beers instead of eight.

Another wave of nausea and dizziness hit him causing the lieutenant to grab the console before him for support. It was more intense this time. He had no time to think about it when a shrill, recognizable voice stabbed him from behind.

“LIEUTENANT!” “LIEUTENANT, you were scheduled for maintenance duty at 0700 in the main shuttlebay!”

Athalla turned to see Commander Hughes glaring at him for a second time today. How had the man gotten up here so quietly?

“Seriously Commander? We already had this conversation two hours ago? What is it NOW sir?

“Lieutenant it is 0930!”

“Excuse me, but it is 1321 hours sir. Perhaps you should…” Athalla stopped for a moment sensing something wasn’t quite right. He felt oddly dizzy again.

Was this déjà vu? They were having the exact same conversation. “Sir, is this some sort of joke? I like a good prank as much as the next guy but…”

“Wise guy. You just bought yourself seven days of confinement. Want to try for the brig lieutenant?”

Athalla said nothing.

“Then I suggest you learn to keep that mouth of yours shut. Now get out of my sight before I decide to have you marinate in a brig cell for the next two weeks!”

“Sir…perhaps..” Suddenly, Commander Hughes disappeared before Athalla leaving the pilot alone in the flight control booth stunned and confused.

“What the hell?!”

The floor gently shook beneath his boots and then stopped. Another wave of turbulence shook the deck this time with severe force causing the lieutenant to grab a nearby console for support. Alarm klaxons rang out across the deck and shuttlebay. His computer displays cleared and were replaced with condition red warning animations signaling the move to red alert.

“So much for inventory review”, the pilot muttered as another powerful burst of turbulence shook the ship. What the hell was happening? Why was there no word from the bridge? Were they under attack? And what of his ghostly encounter with Commander Hughes? Even if it had been a hologram – someone would have had to put in a significant amount of time to pull off such a recreation and it wasn’t even that funny so why bother?

Again he felt sick. What was happening to him? Were these sensations a result of the alert? He stumbled out of the control booth as the ship was rocked again by forces unknown. Athalla barely caught the railing preventing him from being thrown over its edge to the bay floor far below. He managed to make the lift and slowly lowered himself down as the ship seemed to hit frequent pockets of severe turbulence. It felt as if the ship’s internal dampening systems were out of alignment or malfunctioning which would account for his reoccurring bouts of vertigo. It wasn’t often the floor or walls spun for a veteran pilot like himself.

Reaching the shuttle deck, Athalla quickly made his way back to the fighters only to feel the deck beneath him seemingly disappear. The lights suddenly failed and darkness swallowed everything in view. Severe turbulence knocked the pilot to the floor as horrific g-forces clawed at everything on the deck that was not bolted down. He couldn’t see it, but the air suddenly became a jumble of bodies, tools, machinery, computers, and equipment which eventually came crashing down everywhere across the flight deck.

Athalla tried to regain his footing despite the terrible shaking and engine noise that sounded as if it would tear the Charon apart. Suddenly something hit Athalla in the chest with brutal force knocking the air from his lungs. As he struggled for breath something large and heavy slammed into the lieutenant’s back. Consciousness left the lieutenant leaving him motionless somewhere in the vast darkness of a chaotic flight deck.

________________________________

Lt. Leon Athalla

Combat Pilot, USS Charon

[USS Charon] SD 241104.05 || Subplot Log || "Anti-Matter of Time" || LtCmdr Landon Neyes, NPCs

2011-04-05T06:08:00.000-04:00

=/\= Main Engineering, USS Charon =/\=

Unlike many of the other little snippets of his life he could recall in a small 1000 word or so segment, Landon felt quite refreshed. The air on the ship had a sweet and new taste to it, and the faces of the crew seemed to perk up as he walked past. He'd have loved to believe it was because he was such a wonderfully cheerful person that his enthusiasm rubbed off on people like a plague, but he imagined it was more because they no longer had to work in a department operated under the astringent Mr. Lieutenant Nealson. It could have also been the cortical monitor attached at the base of his skull. It tended to lighten the mood.

As he strolled though the doors of Engineering he could hear a few people verbally sigh in relief. For all that Neyes was, he wasn't an unfair senior officer. The good Lieutenant however, wasn't exactly familiar with the term, "Diplomatic."

"Hello, my good people. Yes, I'm back from rehab. Get your giggles out now while you have permission, because once I get to work if I hear any of you snickering at me... and I WILL hear you... you'll be working overnight shifts so fast you'll wish I'd never set foot on the ship." He smiled pleasantly, careful to address each person individually as he spoke aloud. "But it's still lovely to be back. Missed you. Thank you for the reports, McKinley. They were much appreciated. You have excellent grammar." He made a clicking sound and pointed to Nealson. "You, in my office asap. Please."

Landon turned headfirst towards his office and had to strike a double take. He hadn't been paying complete attention, but it had looked for a split second like there were two people already in his office. Neyes, could only see through the clear glass of the door, but it had definitely sent a quick little chill up his spine. After a moment, he decided it was just his anti-stimulated brain recovering from massive injections of medications. It was bound to play a few trick on him.

Neyes and Nealson took seats in his office, and Landon quietly tapped a finger on the edge of his desk, trying to carefully handle his first personnel issue. They both sat in a sort of awkward silence for a few seconds. Nealson no doubt wondering why he was there, and Neyes trying his best to think of a way to handle it all with the finesse expected of someone in his position.

"Sir, I-"

Nealson was about to say something when Landon interrupted him outright. "So what's up, Lieutenant. How do you feel you did while I was gone?"

"Sir?" The look of stricken confusion on his face was almost painful to see. It was obvious he had expected to

Landon knew that Nealson was almost perfectly logical in his execution of protocol and procedure, but he seemed to stumble at a disconnect between talking to people as peers and ordering them around. There had been at least three complaints about Nealson while Neyes had spent the last few days in Sickbay, and at least one of them asked to be transferred if Nealson was not removed. It was one of those personnel issues he'd always had problems dealing with as a senior officer. There was just too much temptation to order the Lieutenant under the bowels of the ship for a good lesson in humility, scrubbing the nasties out from inside the plasma conduits. The best solution, though, was probably to sit down and talk it out.

"I think we performed fairly well in your absence, Commander. The crew can be a little disorderly at times, but I think I managed to straighten most of them out." Nealson spoke with a commanding confidence. It seemed he really believed that the crew had worked well under him

"You know there were some issues with the team while I was gone. Many of them had to do with how you handled yourself."

"I don't understand."

"If you took the time to ask your crew how they were feeling you might find yourself in a better position to command them. These are people with needs, wants and breaking points. They don't want to feel like they're slaves, they want to feel like part of a team. Rightly so, I might add." Landon was being delicate with the man, knowing he could be defensive.

"I understand, sir." Nealson said.

Neyes raised an eyebrow quizzically. It couldn't be that simple. "You do."

"I do."

A little smirk of satisfaction crossed his lips. Landon didn't expect that the Lieutenant understood as well as they'd both like, but hopefully the introduction of the issue was a start, at the very least. "Well that was easy. Thank you Lieutenant. I want you to write a report on suggestions you have for personnel improvements based on your observations. Including those of yourself. I'll be in touch with you about it once I've had a chance to evaluate your perspective."

Nealson got up to leave, nodding in acknowledgment.

What happened immediately afterward nearly stopped Landon's heart. The Lieutenant rose from his chair, then strolled to the office door, but he also didn't. Another second Nealson was still sitting in the chair, talking like he had been a few minutes before. Landon could barely make out the sounds, but it was clear that something was terribly wrong. The words from the shade were distorted and non-linear, like they were coming through on the wrong comm band. A nauseating sensation came over Neyes as he pushed himself up and out of his chair. He could see echoes of people as they walked outside his office, like trailing ghosts that followed in their footsteps. The room felt like it was spinning, and Landon found himself staring at a physical world he hadn't experienced before.

"Nealson, stop!" He shouted.

Both Lieutenants looked up, but the one sitting in the chair seemed a little confused as he looked about the office for the source of the sound. Neyes could only figure that the echo couldn't see him. It was a leap to make assumptions without really knowing what was happening, but it was the best he could come up with under the circumstances.

"What do you see, Nealson?" Landon's muscles were clenched. He was worried that moving would upset whatever was happening around him.

"Sir? What do you mean? I see you. Your office." He looked confused.

Whatever was going on was clearly localized around Landon. His first instinct was that someone had planted some kind of device around him, or that he'd been drugged. This didn't feel like an intoxication though, and it was all too fluid. There wasn't any obvious sign of any subterfuge in his office; everything around him was as it was as when it was rebuilt. The spinning in his head was getting worse, though, and he could feel his sense of consciousness beginning to fade out. Soon he wouldn't be able to fight it off, so he had little other choice but to try to move.

Landon took a step and suddenly everything changed again.

Nealson vanished, the orientation of everything in the room had changed. In fact most everything looked like it had been thrown against the far wall, and there was a shrill pulsing sound coming from the Core. Someone cried out as the entirety of Main Engineering was engulfed in darkness, with the exception of the blue and reds of the warp core. A single console blinked near the warp diagnostic panel. A litany of things raced through his head, as the Engineer in him took hold. There was a disturbance in the local space around them. It was either just him, or it was everything. He didn't seem to be affected at all by it, but had instead been deposited into this... this instance.

"Report!" He shouted instinctively.

An Ensign coughed as she pushed herself up off the floor. Her shouting was labored, but she managed, "The core was successfully stabilized, the emergency shunts saved us, sir. Anti-Tetryon particles have still contaminated our Anti-Matter supply and have flooded the core. But we're still holding at 115% of normal anti-matter flow for top speed. It looks like Savant has been dumping power somehow in order to keep the core from extending past the emergency capacity and blowing us all to hell." She coughed again as she tried to bring a station back online, her hand pounding uselessly against the panel's broken glass.

Neyes hopped over a fallen console station and quickly made his way over to a fallen crewman. A small pool of blood was clearly visible on the floor under his temple, and it took Landon less than a moment to realize the man had been killed instantly. It was Nealson. Landon's brow creased a little, the frustration coming to the forefront of his mind. He didn't know what was happening.

The nausea suddenly returned, and Landon felt the same as he had the first time the strange reality shift had happened.

"Sir! Core pressure is rising again! It's at 118%!!! I can't- can't get the injector port to close!!" She screamed, the core's shrill hum had mutated into a painfully loud and monstrously twisted screech. It was the sound of inevitability.

Sure enough, just as Neyes closed his eyes to take in the last moments of life, he could hear the Kelbonite matrix around the core casing begin to crack and shatter as the containment fields bubbled and perforated. A single molecule of air is all it would take for the whole ship to erupt and vaporize. The core pulsed one last time and Neyes felt his skin warm just the slightest bit. After 750 years, he guessed dying in a massive explosion of atomic annihilation was just as good as a battle wound. He just wish he knew why.

Then it stopped.

Neyes once again found himself in a well-lit Engineering, as if someone had flicked a switch and everything returned to normal. He opened his eyes, a little annoyed that he'd been jerked around once again, but relieved to still be bound to all his atoms. Everyone was moving about normally, only this time a console nearby blared out some kind of warning. Landon quickly shot a look over to his office, and could see the same effects as before, only he wasn't there and Nealson had a sickened and panicked look on his face. Without thinking he got up from his crouching position outside his office, and ran over to a console. A quick readout of the sensors was all he needed...

"Looks like we passed through a field of Anti-Tetryon particles this morning, Commander. Our warp field has shifted slightly, we've been attempting to compensate-" A crewman said.

Oh for the love of all the damn shit in the storm this could not be happening. Time travel?! That's what Anti-Tetryons would do to his new subspace field design. He had discounted it as an option, since the particles were so rare outside of intense solar distortions. There was no reason for him to design the new warp drive to have to purge that kind of contamination, it would have only slowed him down, and the Captain needed that damned thing operational as quickly as possible. He fiercely rubbed at the bridge of his nose. 'THAT is why you don't rush me!!!!', he thought.

"NO!" Neyes shouted. "Open the Nacelle ports to 80% of full retraction and prepare to eject the core!"

The woman looked at the commander a little confused, but followed orders. She nodded and quickly carried out her instructions, but a worried sound creeped into her response as she worked her console. "Commander something's wrong. The core won't pre-eject. The antimatter injector port is frozen in its current state. Also, sir, the Anti-Tetryons have penetrated the warp field! It looks like they're leaking into the anti-matter supply along the bubble!"

'What?!" Landon gritted his teeth. That wasn't supposed to be possible. But he already knew what was coming. "Unlock the magnetic constrictors and begin venting whatever you can from the plasma network out the nacelle ports! We can't let the core pressure rise! Adjust the emergency collision grid to an inverted geometry and use it to enhance the structural integrity of the hull! This is going to hurt like hell!"

"Commander! If we open the ports at this speed it'll destabilize the warp field! We'll come to a dead stop!"

"Do it, Ensign!" Landon growled.

"Aye sir! Venting nacelle plasma and rerouting flow!"

Neyes tapped his comm-badge with one hand and furiously worked the core diagnostic panel with the other."

"Engineering to bridge! The core has been contaminated with Anti-Tetryon particles! The field is unsafe and we have to break it. Prepare to emergency deceleration!"

Neyes barely had time to finish the words when he was thrown from his standing location and tossed backwards across the pool-table, most Engineering quickly followed suit.

=/\= END LOG =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Landon Neyes

Chief Engineer

USS CHARON

NPCs

[USS Charon] SD241104.04 || Plot Log || "No Time for Time - Part 2"

2011-04-05T01:42:00.000-04:00

U.S.S. Charon
“No Time for Time – Part 2”
________________________________

Lamont slowly opened his eyes. For several moments he could see nothing. Staring into the void he briefly wondered if he had survived. Was this death? It sure did not seem like heaven and yet did not as yet fit descriptions of hell. He tried to move only to be hit by a sudden wave of electric pain that radiated down his arm. So he was alive… with an injured, possibly broken arm. His head throbbed, but from what he could not tell. His ears were also ringing from recent events he could scarcely remember. There was a message from engineering. He remembered shouting something, horrific noise, a massive jolt, and then nothing.

Pushing himself upwards with his other arm, Lamont sat up coughing as he did so. The bridge seemed to be filled with an invisible haze of acrid smoke. The repugnant scent of burned insulation and wiring hung thick in the air. The lights were off. The only illumination came from several flickering computer terminals and the occasional shower of electrical sparks from unseen damage.

After several moments of shaking off his confusion and pain his eyes adjusted to the near total blackness around him. Reaching out he found he was against the wall housing the ship’s main viewer. How he had gotten here was unclear. Had he been thrown here? He attempted to stand and despite several bruises and soreness found his legs mostly intact. Fumbling through the darkness, Lamont made his way toward the captain’s chair finally finding it. His hands sought out the emergency kit beneath it and within moments he had a light which he quickly switched on.

He almost wished he hadn’t. The bridge crew lay unmoving tossed about the bridge like dolls in a playhouse that had been kicked over by an angry child. Moving toward the helm officer she had managed to retain her place as had the operations officer. Lamont gently shook the officer and to his relief she came around.

“Are you alright ensign”, he asked.

“I..I think so”, she answered with a confused, uncertain tone.

“Give yourself a moment.”

Moving on Lamont checked on the ops officer who was bleeding from a cut on his head, but otherwise appeared to be in fair shape. Ian then moved back to where he had found himself earlier. Lieutenant Hawke was upright and shaking off the effects of whatever had happened to them.

“Lieutenant”, Lamont asked kneeling down, “you alright?”

“I have an awful headache like someone clubbed me…what happened?”

“I don’t know”, Lamont replied looking around. “It looks like the ship may still be intact though given the ride I suspect there are many injured. Can you move?”

“Yes sir…I believe so.”

Hawke stood and after a few moments upright seemed to be able to shake off the ill effects.

“No time for rest lieutenant. I’ll see to the wounded. For now, get what crew you can and see if you can determine our situation. First priority should be life support and ship’s status. We need to determine just how bad things are. If we can get some light in here that would help as well.”

“Sir, you are the ranking officer. The duty falls to you sir.”

Ian sighed. “My commander pips have several layers of dust on them lieutenant. You know the ship and its systems better than I. Work with those who are able and let’s find out where we stand. We must determine our status and assess damage. We can discuss command protocol later.”

“Aye sir.” The lieutenant moved off and quietly began issuing orders to able bodied crewmen. The young man was holding up fairly well given the circumstances. Lamont wondered how long that would last. He had lived through combat and war on the bridge of a starship. He had seen its horrors as a young lieutenant and later as a lieutenant commander and third officer. He had given up that past life to pursue peace and yet even so he again found himself on a starship in a sea of risk, danger, and hardship. It was as if his past had come back to haunt him…

With more bridge crew up and moving, Lamont assisted the injured until he spotted a body in a corner near the turbolift door at the front of the bridge. Armed with only hand lamps, surveying the bridge was a time consuming process. He instantly recognized the crewman as Counselor Dwellon. Rushing over, Ian knelt down and carefully rolled the ensign onto her back. She seemed to have some bruises and carpet burns on her face, but appeared otherwise intact.

“Counselor? Counselor Dwellon?” He waited for a response.

[ To Be Continued… ]

________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont
Diplomatic Advisor

Ensign Vae Dwellon

Chief Counselor

Lt. Garrett Hawke (NPC)

Delta Shift Duty Officer

[USS Charon] SD241104.03 || Plot Log || "No Time For Time"

2011-04-05T00:38:00.000-04:00

U.S.S. Charon
“No Time for Time”
________________________________

BRIDGE – USS Charon

A frown was on her face as she stepped into the lift and called for the Bridge, another bite of her apple was enjoyed before the lift came to a stop and she stepped out. She was able to see the bridge was also affected by the 'ghosts', as she walked clear through Ambassador Lamont, making her pause and shake her head. A blush in her cheeks forming.

Her red eyes skimming the bridge as she took another bite of her apple, moving to take her seat to the left of the current officer in Command, she stopped, seeing the seat already occupied by the Ambassador himself. Taking note that he was covered in what looked like a spilt coffee, and surrounded by officers righting themselves from the jolt the ship took.

" Pardon me Commander Lamont... But... Mind telling me what happened?" A brow raised as she looked down at him, assessing at the same time to see if he had burned himself when he split whatever it was he had over himself. Her look then searching the Bridge, making sure no one else was in need of medical attention.

Lamont paid the counselor no notice for he was unaware of her presence. Time dilation effects throughout the ship were increasing due to a probable imbalance in the Charon’s recently repaired warp drive. It wasn’t until several moments later that the ambassador discovered her sitting next to him seemingly appearing out of thin air. The surprise caused him to jump sending the remainder of his hot coffee into his lap. Cursing under his breath, Lamont tossed the nearly empty cup to the ground.

“Counselor this probably is not the best place to be just now”, Lamont stated flatly his torso still stinging from a second scalding splash of coffee. A sudden hard jolt caused everyone on the bridge to grab a console. Two crewmen were tossed to the deck as the Charon violently shook as time, space, and velocity viciously conspired against her.

Vae frowned as she looked over to the Commander just as he spilled the second part of his coffee out and threw the cup on the ground. A grimace on her face as she knew what that had caused underneath his tunic, and she was not about to rip open his tunic to try and treat him in the middle of the ships state.

"On the contrary my dear Commander Lamont... I believe the bridge just may be the best place to be at the moment... It looks as though the entire ship is experiencing these time shifts... I woke up twice this morning I think... " Shaking her head as it was rather bothersome.

"It seems as though the bridge is experiencing much less activity as opposed to some other parts of the ship."

“Where is engineering”, Lt. Hawke shouted over the din of roaring engines.

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t raise them or the captain. Comms are offline”, shouted the communications officer. “Wait, I have established text based communication with engineering. One of the antimatter injectors has frozen open. The abnormal flow is creating distortions within our warp field. The fluctuating warp field is distorting subspace and space time creating the unusual effects being experienced throughout the ship. They are attempting to cut off the antimatter flow to stop the engines, but must cut the flow slowly. Time distortion effects are slowing efforts. Will update on progress. That’s it sir. I seem to have lost them again.”

Hawke turned toward Lamont. The young officer was clearly panicked, but was doing a decent job staying cool during this crisis. Lamont on the other hand was anything but cool having suffered mild burns to his chest and below as a result of collateral coffee damage.

“Commander, I would be grateful for any advice you could offer sir.”

Lamont looked at the counselor and then back at the young lieutenant. “First Lieutenant, never drink coffee on the bridge. Second, have faith lieutenant in your crew lieutenant whatever the odds or adversity. Helm is out, communications are disrupted, and time is obviously in flux– but you have to trust that engineering will quickly rectify the problem. You have done everything that can be done. Give them time to work.”

The lieutenant nervously nodded as several beads of sweat ran down his face. Lamont noticed the young man was gripping the captain’s armrest with a death grip. So were several others on the bridge. Engineering would resolve the situation. Soon. Hopefully.

Lamont turned toward the counselor. “Counselor…any advice? I have no idea how to get coffee stains out of my uniform.” Lamont flashed a weak smile with a poor attempt at humor. It was inappropriate, but at least it made him feel better. He hoped engineering could pull the plug on the engines soon. He didn’t fancy floating through space at warp speeds for eternity in a coffee stained uniform.

Shaking her head she looked at his tunic then up to his face, "I would have to say that Engineering should be informed that in this day in age you would expect a Starship to at least have cup holders...." Another sigh as she thought again of the burns he sustained. " Just recycle the tunic and replicate a new one... However, in all seriousness, you should get those burns treated as soon as it is possible..." Just thinking of his torso being burned and scared like her own made her wince.

"Unfortunately, the best thing we can do is hope Engineering gets the ship tip top before it is ripped apart..." She was no tactical officer, but they were not really in any immediate danger other then the time distortions. Or so she hoped. Unless the 'ghosts' started attacking people.

“Well you’ll have your work cut out for you assuming we survive this diversion”, Lamont stated quietly so as not to worry an already shaken bridge crew. “People meeting themselves, ghosts, phantoms, echoes…oh yes I can imagine your schedule will be quite full for the foreseeable future.”

“Engi…ner..g to bri..ge. We are..[static]..attempting..[static]..and..[static]..brace for emergency decelera…”

Lamont was unable to wait for the lieutenant to act as past experience and training suddenly activated without thought even after long years of disuse.

“SOUND COLLISION! ALL HANDS BRACE FOR…”

Lamont’s voice was quickly washed away by a deafening howl. Lights failed bathing the bridge in a sea of infinite black. A roar of engines flooded the ship as her warp field abruptly fell apart exposing the hull to incredible speed while overloading her inertial dampening systems. Centrifugal forces caused by system overloads and the sudden deceleration tossed man and machine about the ship like toys until finally the Charon emerged from warp into empty space, adrift and powerless, but still in one piece.

________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont
Diplomatic Advisor

Ensign Vae Dwellon

Chief Counselor

<<Ok, let’s getting something going until our fearless leader can catch his breath and beat me mercilessly for damaging the ship…again. The Charon has experienced an unexpected and catastrophic failure of its engines. Engineering was able to shutdown the warp drive but it resulted in massive deceleration effects. Computers are down. Power is sporadic if functional at all..(no lights). Communications are completely out. Life support is questionable. Expect heavy injuries, lots of displaced equipment being tossed about, blocked halls, sealed bulkheads, loss of gravity, problems, issues, no turbolifts, and anything else you guys want to come up with. Log in the moment or have some fun with the preceding warp field effects. Encounter a ghostly appearance of yourself or others? See yourself eat a bowl of cereal you just ate five minutes ago…sky’s the limit. Backlog, front log, up or down log…lets just get some logs going again! If anyone has any questions shoot me an email. Let’s have some fun with this. More logs to come from yours truly and the counselor. – Tav>>

<<I need some logs to read…do it if only to help a fellow simmer take his mind off the $2000 he just spent on plumbing repairs.>>