USS Feynman JUL 1997

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U.S.S. FEYNMAN NCC-66000
July 1997 Posts

TOTAL JULY 1997 POSTS: 15

• USS FEYNMAN Main Page

• Stardate Keys

GRAND TOTAL POSTS: 798

Posts By Each Year

• 1996 Posts - 642 Posts
  
• 1997 Posts - 156 (Jan-July) Posts
  
• 1998 Posts - TBD Posts
  
• 1999 Posts - TBD Posts
  

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USS FEYNMAN: Briefly Turning back the Hands of Time

by Michael "Mike" Dailey 7-2-1997

SD: 90702.1900
MD: 10.1925
SCENE: Deck 7 (Back-post)

"...and after the Science Department's preliminary scans, the ship's computer classified the Karrestrians as a 3.4-C rating on the Richter Cultural scale," said SCPO T'boc to his CO.

"Quite low for a people that supposedly can maneuver an entire planet," replied J.C. The two security men strolled around a corner in deck 7's corridors.

"My thoughts exactly, Sir. Given our lack of data regarding the Karrestrian society, I still believe this mission should prove most enticing to the crew."

"Mr. T'boc," J.C. grinned at the NCO, "do I detect a bit of excitement in your voice?" asked the CSO playfully. T'boc halted, regarded his CO for a moment.

"Lieutenant, I have passed the Velinhar level of my training, and am in full control of my emotions. I see no reason for you to insult..." J.C. halted T'boc.

"I meant no insult, T'boc. I simply meant that working with humans for so long may have relaxed you a bit." J.C. recalled T'boc's service record, he was 41 (v.s.y.) just out of adolescence by Vulcan standards, though by appearances not far from J.C.

"I should hope interaction with your culture would not have such an adverse affect upon me" replied T'boc. They resumed walking again.

*Now was that an attempt at Vulcan-style humour?*, J.C. shrugged it off as such. After a few moments, the senior security NCO spoke up again,

"Sir, I thank you for choosing me for the away team. Also I believe Mr. Hensley was quite elated upon discovering his assignment also." said T'boc.

After receiving the Away Team assignments from Commander Maril, J.C. went immediately to the XO's office. During the course of the heated discussion that followed, J.C. had been quite adamant about Maril's exclusion of security from a first contact mission, and went so far as to make it permanent in the duty log. Maril was unusually quiet and unreadable, causing the CSO to wonder if the XO was content or irate at him for making a stand. Finally, they agreed upon adding two security troopers and J.C. removing the log entry, but Maril was equally adamant about no phasers or advanced weaponry, which the CSO could understand.

On his way out, J.C. cringed as Maril invited him back to his office after the mission for 'further discussions'. In his time aboard the FEYNMAN, J.C. had come to dread these discussions. Perhaps he would immerse himself and become extremely busy helping with this month's Armory inventory.

"You're...uh. Perfect for the mission, Mr. T'boc. And as for Cadet Hensley, he'll graduate with two away missions under his belt. Quite a bit more than some." A brief flashback to J.C.'s own Cadet cruise aboard the SARATOGA brought back some dreadful memories of long hours in the Cargo Decks instead of on away missions. The SARA's XO hated to be bothered with in 'inconvenience' of Cadets on his ship, much less on Away Missions. They rounded a corner, heading for the turbolift.

"My physiological makeup..." WHUMP! T'boc didn't finish, as they came around the corner, a small child of about 4-6 Terran years collided full-impact with T'boc. The NCO immediately regained his composure, however the small boy 'bounced' back, landing his aft-side on the floor of deck 7.

"Whoa, little guy." said J.C., crouching down on his heels to face the boy. "Warping through the corridors like that, I'll bet you must have a squad of Romulan warbirds chasing you." The youngster remained seated, and extremely silent, oblivious to J.C.'s kind voice. T'boc knelt down beside them, looking at J.C.,

"If I may, Sir." J.C. nodded.

"Sir," T'boc addressed the boy. "Perhaps if you told us your identity, we could return you to your proper home and family." He curled his legs up, and hugged himself, remaining ever silent.

"I don't recognize him, T'boc." said J.C.

"Neither do I, Sir." J.C. talked to the boy, and tried to question him, without results. *Just like Kevin (his brother) when he was younger* thought J.C. T'boc stood again, glancing at his chrono.

"Lieutenant, if I may be dismissed. I have an appointment in Sickbay for my Karrestrian alterations." J.C. looked up at the NCO, nodding.

"Of course, T'boc. I'll speak to you and Mr. Hensley before you beam down tomorrow morning." Turning his attention back to the boy,

"As for this guy... how would you like to see the Security Offices while I find out who your family is?" J.C. tried to make it sound like a great adventure, but the words accomplished very little in altering the child's silence.

"Though I cannot substantiate it's use, I wish you 'good luck', Lieutenant Allard." said T'boc as he entered the lift. J.C. made further unsuccessful attempts at talking to the boy, who had moved to sit with his back against a bulkhead. He heard the whine of a lift car stopping, glancing up at the opening doors, saw the AFCO emerge. J.C. rose to his feet as the Bajoran Militia officer approached.

"Sir," greeted J.C.

"Mr. Allard," nodded 1st Lt. Stark. He glanced down at the boy hugging himself. "What have we here?" asked the AFCO.

"A little lost space traveler," said J.C. "And he does not seem interested in giving his name." said J.C. Stark frowned, and kneeled down to face the boy.

"Mr. Allard, I think this is Commander Koreth's nephew." The mention of the CEO's name toggled a switch inside the young boy.

"Do you two know Uncle Tarrant?" asked Torin. J.C. and Keller looked into each other's eyes, J.C. feeling a bit dunsel-like.. *If I had know all I need do was mention Commander Koreth's name...*

"Yes, we do. We're his shipmates and friends," said J.C. Torin hand cautiously reached out and brushed the the one and one half pips on J.C. collar, but yanked his hand back quickly. He looked to the AFCO,

"Thanks for your help, Sir." said J.C.

"No problem, Lieutenant." said Stark. He began on his way again. "If you need any more help in Security or missing persons, just let me know." J.C. turned several shades of red, but caught his tongue in time. No sense in provoking a Federation-Bajoran war now. J.C. tapped his comm badge.

"Allard to Commander Koreth". A few seconds slipped by,

[Koreth here. What is it, Mr. Allard?] came the usual irritated voice.

"Sir, actually it's WHO is it... I have a little lost engineer who's looking for you." Torin smiled at hearing Tarrant's voice.

[Torin? Where did you find him, Lt.?]

"We're here on deck 7, Sir. I can escort him to you."

[Meet me in 10-Forward, Lt.] ordered the CEO.

"Aye Sir, Allard out." He folded his arms, and looked down at Torin.

"So Torin's your name, huh?" the boy nodded. J.C. held out his hand. "My name's Justin, but everybody calls me J.C." Slowly Torin's small hand clasp J.C.'s Torin stood, just over J.C. waist. They started walking towards the lift.

"Are you taking me to see Uncle Tarrant?" asked Torin.

"Yes, he's in our lounge called Ten Forward." The lift doors snapped shut, and J.C. gave the destination. After a few moments, Torin looked up at J.C.,

"Do you HAVE to take me to Uncle Tarrant?". J.C. laughed, not at Torin, but at the prospect of being a lost nephew of the loveable Feynman CEO.

Submitted,
Mike Dailey
splatter2@qtm.net

******** * NRPG * ********

Hello Fey! gang. Yes, I'm back finally... though still puttering around at 14.4 bps. (now I know why people use T1 and ISDN lines!!!)

This is not mission specific, and entirely fluff, but I had started it before my Sportster crashed, and wanted to get it out. Hope I played Torin and Stark correctly.

Not sure if everyone received my last post. When Max sent the away roster, I made the log entry-post. Later, Andy posted something with Security included, so that explains that reference in this post. (I hope)

I'm almost through the posts, up to 6-28. I see the hostage situation is for the most part over, so I'll plug in some in-between stuff and add a few things here and there. I will have something out that's CURRENT by Thursday afternoon!

As always,
Cheers!
Mike

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+
= Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard CSO USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG =
+ Lt. [Dr.] D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - UNASSIGNED SILVER FLEET +
= Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny CNS USS BURKE GREEN FLEET =
+ Lcdr. Ion Steiner L.C. SFDITF TEAM ALPHA-1 SFDITF +
= Capt. Johan Bauer COMSFDITF "All I ask is a tall ship..." =
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

USS FEYNMAN: Lost With MY Trail Mix

by Kristen Gant 7-3-1997

<<NRPG: Okay let me start of first by saying I'm completely baffled on the time line.. per usual :{ I think Jason's post was on day 12, but I don't think we reached day 12 and mike's was on day 10.. so I've no clue what happening time wise... Hopefully this won't screw anything up!>>

SD: 90703.1513
Scene: Interior of Karrest
MD: Sometime after Loren gets knocked out by Nick

Lieutenant Commander Jenn pushed back her chair and stretched. She'd been sitting in that chair far too long without a break. And she needed a snack, she thought as her stomach growled in a very unladylike fashion. She leaned over and searched her pack, which was lying on the floor beside the chair.

She groaned when she realized that the counselor still had her trail mix.

"Looking for something Commander?" the security guard asked.

"Yes, the counselor. Would you please go and round up Lieutenant Landers for me." She asked.

"I don't think I should leave you alone, sir." The young Cohen said hesitantly.

"I'll be all right, ensign. It shouldn't take you very long to locate him." She urged. "Just hurry back."

"Yes, sir," he reluctantly agreed and hurried out of the room on his quest.

Krysa turned back to the computer. There wasn't much left for her to do here anymore. It was mostly in the hands of the engineers, with only a few modifications to the system on her end as they worked.

"I see they are about ready to begin repairs?"

She jumped as she heard the voice behind her. She turned to see an unfamiliar Karrestian standing there, "Yes," she smiled, "Hopefully once they get started, the job won't take long."

"I hope not, we would hate to keep you long from your .. mission."

Krysa nodded slightly, her lips tilting into a slight frown. Once again, she felt uncomfortable and her eyes flickered toward the door wondering where Cohen was with the counselor.

"I'm sorry, am I making you .. nervous?" He said, then he chuckled, "I'm being rude, aren't I. I'm Jilrat."

"Lieutenant Commander Krysa Jenn," she said, turning her dark eyes back toward him, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh no .. I'm just checking on the progress .. it's my job."

"I see," she said with a nod. "Most of the work's being done at the actual pod site. Right here it's pretty boring."

His eyes drilled holes into her with the intensity of their stare, "You think so? I don't .." He moved up beside her, peering over her shoulder at the computer screen.

"Commander!" Cohen said running into the room.

Krysa jumped up in relief, "Did you find the counselor?"

"No, sir. No one's seen him for several hours."

"Problems?" Jilrat asked.

Krysa ignored him, "You've asked everyone?"

"Yes, sir, and Commander Maril's worried and wants a search party."

Regards,
Lt.Cmdr. Krysa Jenn
OPS/2O, USS FEYNMAN

SB EPSILON: Silver Chains, Another Link

by Mike Dawe 7-6-1997

SD: 90706
SCENE: SB EPSILON

He couldn't sleep so he went back to his office. It had taken more than a little work to arrange for a second set of quarters just down the corridor from his office but he had managed to convince the battleaxe who was the quartermaster for Epsilon that it was a needed convenience. So here he was, halfway through Gamma shift, still trying to get the data transfer conduits to give a clean feed from the bridge when he heard singing . . . 'ziedoats and doesiedoats and lidle lamsiedivee. A kidle edievie too, wood and chew?'

Whoever it was butchered the melody almost as badly as she did the words. The song rang down the passageway and was getting louder. This was disconcerting since his quarters, office and storage were the only things on this short dead-end corridor. The doors above and behind him hissed open and he suddenly realized that all the person entering the office would see of him was what was visible, himself from the waist down, hind end poking high as the rest of him was in the subfloor trying to access that damn power shunt. Another thought rang through his short term memory, he was not in uniform. Not expecting to have visitors he had seen no point in getting dressed to work on the problem so he was still in his pyjamas. A gift from Hisstare (and a joke) they were a print pattern of frolicking teddy bears on some sort of outing or picnic. If memory served him well the newcomer to the room would be greeted by the view of several stuffed bears playing volleyball. He could only hope that the 'net' had not slipped.

"Coo, I always thought that a career in Starfleet would be exciting. To 'boldly go and to see new worlds'" The voice held barely contained laughter and he levered himself up out of the subfloor and rolled over to see who felt they had open access to his office.

She had her hair tied back in a bun in an ancient pattern of braids and knots. It was graying but the shot of white in the forelock looked like it had been there for a long time. The remainder was a fire red that was complimented by a pair of laughing green eyes. Wearing the uniform of tech support and services she held a small tricorder in one hand and a box in the other.

"Hrrmf, how did you get in here?" He decided a good offence would be the best option.

"_I_ have access to almost all of this overgrown shuttle, dearie. I'm chasing a couple of errant DB's." She held out her tricorder and started a scan as she spoke. "Aha. You,ve trapped one down below. have you been leaving that access panel open? Working around it a lot?"

He stood slowly and tugged on the waist of his 'bottoms'. "I have, the damn junction seemed to be designed specifically to be inaccessible."

"Then that's how it dropped in." She keyed in a set of instructions on her tricorder and a soft whistle filled the room for a moment. Then a little answering whistle came from below and she leaned down and grabbed a small flat device about the slice of a bar of latinum.

"Dust Bot eh? I never even saw the damn thing while I was working down there."

"And you won't." She pointed with pride at the top of the device and he saw that it was already turning a Caucasian flesh colour. "I have them keyed in for cameleon work. Now why are you trying to reach all the way to the junction? If your arms aren't long enough you should consider other options."

"I do my own work." he said flatly.

"I wasn't suggesting getting help, although a Skitnarian could reach that junction easily. I was wondering why you don't make an access way closer to the problem." Her toe pointed demurely to a spot on the deck.

"Because there isn't an access way there."

"And I suppose you have paid a damage deposit on this?" She smiled and left chiding her small DB like a mother scolding a small child.

He stopped and thought for a moment and then opened his desk and removed a phaser. He took aim and then paused. Tap. "Nicholas to bridge"

[Bridge here]

"I'll be doing some cutting work with a phaser, disregard all sec system alerts in this room for the next ten minutes."

[Aye sir]

Fifteen minutes later he had completed his repairs and was sitting wondering why he had not thought of this solution in the first place. He shook his head and then paused again. Tapping his PADD he called up the duty manifest and then did a quick skim through personnel files before tapping his comm panel on the desk again. "Warrant Officer Huron?"

[Yes? What have you spilt now?]

"Nothing, but in exchange for the advice I received from you earlier I was wondering if I could treat you to a coffee?"

[It is about that time of night isn't it? Is this going to be a formal do or will you be coming as you are?]

He looked down at his pajamas and sighed. "I'll dress for the occasion. Flight deck replicators in fifteen?"

[I'll be there]

He went back to his quarters and, for the first time in a very long time, hesitated while wondering what to wear. He decided against the uniform and went with a long sky blue shirt with no collar and his favourite baggy pants. Low deck shoes finished the get-up and he was off again, scooping a PADD on the way and slipping it into a deep pocket.

He had just finished programming the replicator when she arrived. They chatted about inconsequential and planets they both had seen, at one time or another. The talk turned to the ships of Silver.

"I have a friend working the Bismark." She said. "Says there's not a single bridge officer left on her."

"True, they have duties elsewhere." he was cautious not to say anything more but inside he wondered if the latest addition to the Bismark would be an aid or a hindrance. 'Too many cooks' vs 'Many hand make light work'.

"Ever thought about working on of the bigger 'overgrown shuttles'?" He asked.

"No I prefer base work. I get to keep touch with more of my friends. I have one working on the Andromeda who complains that keeping the holodeck clean of bloodstains is almost a fulltime job in and of itself."

"They do play rough. Comes of having a Vultrim CO."

"And I thought the Flagship was supposed to be just a figureghead and show of flag."

"Not in this fleet. It carries the biggest load as an example to the rest." He sipped his coffee. "Not that it does all the work . . . the Endeavour is a big ship and does some very touchy first contact work."

"I've heard that. They rush right in to the thick of things don't they?"

"Oh I wouldn't say that. The CO has a good head on her shoulders . . . "

"Go on, tell me you've looked no lower than the shoulders." The eyes were laughing again and Azariah found himself blushing, of all things.

"It would not behoove a gentlemen to answer such a query." he said loftily and then they both laughed.

"No for someone in my department the smaller ships are far easier to keep clean."

"Like the Feynman or the Callisto?" he asked, passing another crueller.

She nodded. "But I get the impression that neither would be an especially safe job."

"No, the Callisto is . . . a special case. The Feynman . . . " he sighed, "That is a special ship. You really should see one of their briefings."

"Like the Regent? Holodeck settings?" She snorted. "Distraction from the task at hand, if you ask me.

"Both ships get the job done, usually against odds. If they have their little quirks then let them."

"Quirks or Kirks?" She asked.

"Quirks. Neither CO is that type of Captain. Zane is a good officer and Fife . . . well he doesn't have the success rate to be a Kirk."

"But you said he gets the job done."

"Oh they do, but the regent never gets it done according to the original plan. Sometimes I wonder why they bother with briefings at all."

"The Holodeck experience no doubt." She smirked.

"No doubt. The hawking is a good small ship . . . "

"Too high a turnover for my liking. I like to form long-term friendships and a base is the best place for that."

He wondered whether he should read more into that last line than might be there. Labeling it for further thought he plowed on. "And then there is the Pearson."

"Oh no. I do not go out onto battle ships."

"The Pearson is a diplomatic vessel. This is Silver, not Green."

"If it is a diplomatic vessel then I am the queen of Sheba. And if i don't get back to work I will be the unemployed Queen of Sheba." She stood to go.

"Well, thank you for joining me and thanks for the advice upstairs." He stood, too. It might be an outmoded mannerism but he held to the oldworld strongly.

"You tech types are all the same. Get a one track fix and you can't step back and look at the problem. Probably ran down in your jammies because you thought you had a new angle on fixing it. Now what if i had been the Admiral? How would he have greeted the sight I saw coming in." She laughed at the memory.

He chuckled. "Not possible. I _am_ the Admiral . . . I thought you knew."

For once he caught her speechless. Laughing he headed back up to his office to catch up on some paperwork.

<<<nrpg>>> Almost a month late . . . sigh

Excuses? yeah i got a few.

Exam time is as hard for teachers as students My wife delivered my new daughter a month early Both had complications and i spent a lot of the time in the hospital Wife home but very short of blood, baby followed almost a week later. Newborn premie in house makes for sleepless nights NOT in front of a keyboard 250 backlogged mail massages.

So be patient with me. I will get caught up asap.

Postings are first priority but if you want me to answer fast the make the message "Mike! Read NOW" and do not tell me how to make $$$$money fast$$$$

mike--->who would love to, but not by pyramid or bamboozle

Vice Admiral Azariah Nicholas CINCSILVER
Captain Christof Fife USS REGENT
Lt. Cmdr Eskat Eskat CNS USS HERMES
Lt James Cardiff FCO DEFENDER
Lt. Derek O'Malley CNS USS CALLISTO
Kytan Duandir XO HRSS St. Jude
mdawe@islandnet.com

USS FEYNMAN: Getting Everyone Back To The Ship .. Almost

by Kristen Gant 7-8-1997

SD: 90708.1215
Scene: Planet's interior
MD: 11.1815

<Are you sure this channel is secured?> The captain asked.

"About as sure as I can be about anything down here," Krysa said with a sigh.

<Now why doesn't that instill any confidence in me.>

Krysa chuckled briefly, "I don't know who to trust anymore. They all give me the creeps. Nick is overly sweet as sugar, Jilrat is behind me just about every time I turn around .." she turned quickly for good measure almost sure he would be there .. he wasn't. ".. And this one," Krysa sighed, "She hates me .. she hates us. Who would you trust?"

<I'll plug the coordinates into the transporter and beam down.>

Krysa frowned, but she knew there was very little alternative. "With several security officers?" she asked.

<Yes, I'll take my 'armed warriors'. I want the rest of the away team to beam back to the ship.>

"But we haven't finished down here yet," Krysa protested.

<We can't have all three of our senior officers on the planet. And I'm not very happy about the way our officers keep disappearing.>

Krysa sighed, she knew he was right. "All right, I'll start beaming all the engineers and search teams back right away."

<Good, I'll be beaming down with my team by 1900 hours. Can you have everyone, including yourself, back up by then?>

"Yes, sir," she promised, "You can count on me."

<Zane out,> his final words were soft and she smiled lightly knowing there were unspoken words there, from both of them. *Be careful ..*

She knew if anyone could handle the situation and get Onta and Loren back it would be him. But she didn't like pulling all their support out. Not when they were so close to getting the system up and running again. The chances of moving the base seemed further and further away as the moments ticked by.

She stood up from the console and turned to find the rest of the FEYNMAN crew. She gasped as she turned directly into Jilrat, who was now standing there. But for how long?

"Do you need anything Commander?"

She forced a smile, "No, I'm fine thank you." She moved to step around him and he followed her.

"Where are you headed?"

"To check on the progress our teams," she said, the lie falling easily from her lips.

"I'll accompany you."

"That's not necessary," she insisted.

"Ah, but I think it is. With two of your crew missing already .. I'm very concerned about you."

She looked up at him, then sighed, "Very well, come along." Though she wasn't all that sure she was completely safe with him either. If the female engineer had been right .. she was most definitely *not* safe!

She found the first of the teams just arriving at the main checkpoint. She turned to Jilrat, "Wait here, I must speak to the team alone."

"But surely, I can help .."

She smiled at him, and said ironically, "I'm sure you could .. however, they will not feel able to speak freely in your presence."

She left him a short distance away and headed to where the team was gathering. "Captain Zane has requested that all away team member beam back to the ship."

"But sir .." one of the security guards protested.

She silenced him with a look. "These are orders from Captain Zane, which means you do not question them." The young man nodded and Krysa continued, "Wait until I get Jilrat out of here first. Then when you're sure no one is around .. beam back to the ship."

"Yes sir."

Krysa nodded and moved back to where Jilrat stood. "They haven't found anything yet. Come, lets check in engineering .."

***
MD: 11.1850
Scene: Planet's interior

It had only taken speaking to Jerran to get the process of beaming the engineers back to the ship started. And Krysa had left with Jilrat to let him do that. So far Jilrat didn't seem to know what she was up to.

There were still two security teams out searching for the missing counselor and XO. They should both be checking into the checkpoint within moment and Krysa hoped to have them beamed out by Zane's 1900 deadline.

When they arrived back at the checkpoint one team was already waiting and Krysa quickly explained to them that they needed to beam out as soon as possible. There was no time to try and hide it from Jilrat anymore so as she stepped away from the search team, they immediately beamed up.

"Where are they going?" Jilrat asked.

"Back to the ship," Krysa said nonchalantly. "I felt there were too many teams, so I'm sending a few back."

She could see the hesitation in his eyes, but pretended that there was nothing unusual in her actions, as she looked toward the entrances to the room hoping the last team would arrive soon.

She breathed a bit easier when she saw Ens. Cohen heading toward her followed by his team. She smiled at Jilrat, "Be right back."

Stepping over to Cohen she explained that they all needed to beam out of here now. Cohen moved to hit his comm pin as Nick suddenly rushed into the room, "Commander!" he called to Krysa, "Where have all your engineers gone?"

Jilrat looked at her sharply.

"Transport! NOW!!" Krysa hollered, but the large rabbit was much faster and he grabbed Cohen by the throat.

"Stop! Or this one dies!"

Krysa saw the life draining out of the young man as he struggled against the tight grasp of Jilrat, unable to breath.

"Hold the transport," She ordered.

Nick looked at the two of them. "What is going on?"

Jilrat spun on him, "You are such an idiot! They were trying to escape! And they almost all got away!" he turned back to look at Krysa. "I thought you liked it here. Now why would you want to leave. Haven't we done everything you wanted. Shown you every courtesy?"

Krysa's eyes were still on Cohen who had not yet been released. "Let him go!" she said tightly.

He looked at the security officer he was holding and shrugged. Then he opened his hand and the young man fell to the ground gasping for breath. Krysa winced at the large bruises already forming around his neck. She looked angrily at the tall brown rabbit. "Every courtesy? With two of our crewmen missing!"

"Are you accusing me? Or Nick?"

"I'm not accusing anyone. I just wanted to get our people to safety. So no one else would turn up missing."

"But we need you to fix the pod .." Nick protested.

But Jilrat smiled. "You had only to ask. You can beam everyone back to your ship if you like. However, I want you to stay."

"Why?"

"I have no reason, other then that I wish it." His smile turned almost evil, causing Krysa to shudder involuntarily. "Besides I think there is something you would like to see."

Regards,
Lt.Cmdr. Krysa Jenn
Ops/2O, USS FEYNMAN
***

NRPG: Well, okay I'm sure there was an easier way to do it, but this was kinda fun. I decided it wouldn't be any fun if Krysa didn't get to watch the men all fighting :}

Kristen

USS FEYNMAN: Calling Home

by Michael "Mike" Dailey 7-11-1997

SD: 90711.0930 [GMT]
MD: 14.1830
SCENE: CSO's quarters - Cabin 735 Deck 5

J.C. sat facing the desk console. Speaking with his older brother for the past few minutes had caused the CSO to almost forget they were many light-years apart instead of meter or so.

"Anxious to return to classes this fall, Brandy?" asked J.C. Brandon rolled his eyes at his younger brother.

[Sure, Justin. I just HATE sleeping in every morning, and having all of the free time I can imagine!] Brandon winked at J.C., knowing the carousing spirit was a family trait in the Allard boys.

"I would think you're dying to get your degree and start your own practice." said J.C. "You'll be the best prosecutor in Sector 1, and the JAG will be all over you, waving a commission in your face," teased J.C.

[One Starfleet brat in the family is enough, Justin.] Brandon paused a moment, [Although, it WOULD be so sweet for you to have to call me SIR.]

"IN YOUR DREAMS, Brandy" quipped J.C. They laughed together, making J.C. feel both happy in talking to his brother, the one he was closest with, and yet a little sad at the 'homesick' feeling.

[Have you heard from Dad recently?] asked Brandon. J.C. took a deep breath, as they were not near as close as the three brothers were, especially Brandon and J.C.

"No, how about you?" Brandon shook his head.

[Not since he came up here to MCU before we let out for the summer.] said Brandon.

"Is Kevin staying with you?" asked J.C. The youngest brother at 17, would be a senior, attending Wilmington Boys College in MontLaurier, also on summer leave. Brandon nodded,

[Yes, but he went swimming with some buddies of his. He'd kill me if he knew you called and I didn't page him.] J.C. smiled as he noticed the black and white form of his dog Benjamin stroll up to Brandon. He was a mixed breed, but looked like a German Shepherd in the face.

"How's he doing?" asked J.C. Brandon rubbed his head as Benjamin rest it upon Brandon's lap.

[Fine. He still wanders into your old room occassionly to take a nap. Still probably wonders where you are.]

"Hi Benjamin!" shouted J.C. The dog twitched his ears, looked around the room, but then returned his head to Brandon's lap for more attention.

[You know, Kevin was saving up to come visit you at EPSILON next month. Dad said he could if I went along, but now that Cait evicted you. You know it was all over FNN news?]

"I can imagine," said J.C. They had earlier dealings with reporters a few missions back.

[Kevin kept replaying the broadcasts, hoping to catch a glimpse of the FEYNMAN or you.]

"I wish I could tell you guys more, but right now everything about our new base in classified."

[Ahh, life in the military.] Brandon said dryly. J.C.'s computer emitted two soft tones, indicating the one minute warning before his comm time expired.

"Gotta go, Brandon." J.C. HATED this part, "Give my best to Kevin... and dad if..."

[Yeah, if. Miss you, little brother.] Actually J.C. had outgrown Brandon by two inches, but he was still younger by over a year.

"You too, Brandy. Good seeing you."

[Give a hello to Grandma if you talk to her...] The screen winked out, replaced with the 'fleet logo. J.C. noticed his eyes were moist, laughing at himself. *Must be too humid in this room!* Strolling over to the bookcase, he grabbed on of his favourite Horatio Hornblower novels by C.S. Forester, and began reading the adventures of his counterpart of some 800 years ago.

Submitted,
Mike Dailey
splatter2@qtm.net

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
= "But that dread of something after death, the undiscovered country from whose +
+ bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those =
= ills we have than fly to others that we know not of..." Hamlet +
+ =
= Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard - CSO USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG +
+ Lt. [Dr.] D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - UNASSIGNED SILVER FLEET =
= Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny - CNS USS BURKE GREEN FLEET +
+ Lcdr. Ion Steiner - L.C. SFDITF TEAM ALPHA-1 Star Fleet Diplomatic Task Force =
= Capt. Johan Bauer - COMSFDITF "All I ask is a tall ship..." +
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

USS FEYNMAN: I Respectfully Decline To Answer

by Kristen Gant 7-12-1997

SD: 90711.2346
Scene: 10-Forward
MD: 14.1820

"Boys." Krysa interjected. "You were both under mind control, its likely neither of you had a complete idea of what was going on."

Maril nodded. "She is right. However, your mind was unencumbered commander. You witnessed the whole fight."

"Of course!" Zane agreed. "So who is right?"

A wrinkle crossed Krysa's brow at her current predicament .. how could she possibly answer this? She looked back and forth from the CO to the XO.

"Come on, Krysa," Onta urged her. "You can tell him. He can take it."

"Yes *he* can," Zane repeated, motioning toward his first officer.

Finally Krysa shook her head. "Nope, I can't tell you."

"What!" they both shouted.

She shook her head firmly, "I'm afraid not."

"I could order you to tell us," the captain looked at her menacingly .. or at least tried to look menacing.

Krysa giggled and patted his hand gently, "You could. But then you'd have to throw me in the Brig for insubordination."

He frowned, but her smile remained, "Besides," she looked at each of the two men again, "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes!"

She shook her head, "No, you don't."

"How can you be so sure?"

She smiled consolingly, "Think how you would feel if I said that the other won? Think how he would feel were it the other way round. It not worth the risk .."

Zane turned to Onta, "I don't think she's going to tell us?"

"I think you're right?"

"Hmm," he said, "Seems we must fine more persuasive means to make her talk."

Krysa frowned, "What kind of persuasive means?" she slowly stood as the two turned their eyes on her. "I .. I think I have duties to attend to .."

Regards,
Lt.Cmdr. Krysa Jenn
OPS/2O, USS FEYNMAN
***
NRPG: Hi guys :} You're gonna have try harder if you actually want her to answer *that* question :}

IMPORTANT: Scott is taking away my computer as of next Thursday while he switches to a new one .. The new one takes 2 weeks by mail order as they are backed up with orders right now. He's probably going to order it on Tuesday so I will likely be out until the 28th .. possibly all the way until the 6th of August if any problems arise.

Until that time could you all please send all email to <dar...@hotmail.com> so that interaccess doesn't get backed up and I lose stuff? Feel free to change it now, I'll be checking it regularly until DH actually pulls the plug on me :}

I will definitely post once more before I get pulled, unless Scott pulls the plug early.. but I'd have to kill him if he did, so that probably won't happen :}:}

Kristen

USS FEYNMAN: Do Tamarians Like Ice Cream?

by Max Felsher 7-14-1997

SD 90714.0130(GMT)
MD 14.1800
Ten-Forward

> "Hmm," he said, "Seems we must fine more persuasive means to > make her talk."

> Krysa frowned, "What kind of persuasive means?" she slowly stood > as the two turned their eyes on her. "I .. I think I have duties to attend to .."

Maril grinned gleefully. “No, Krysa, sit down. We want you to feel comfortable.”

Jenn’s eyes darted back and forth like a scared animal’s, trying to guess Zane and Maril’s plan.

“Bat,” Zane called, “could we have a triple chocolate sundae with hot fudge and cherries?”

Bat, standing down at the bar, smiled and called back, “Coming right up.”

By this time, Jenn was panicking. “Come on, boys. You don’t have to go this far.” She stood up again, took one last look at the chocolate sundae Bat was preparing, and struggled away from the table and out of Ten-Forward.

Maril laughed. “You think we pushed her too far?”

Zane did not reply. He was staring at the door Jenn had left by. Without a word, he slid away from the table and walked out the same door.

“Is the party over?” Bat asked from behind Maril, holding the sundae. “Just a moment ago, I counted three command-level officers sitting at this table. Now there’s only one. My memory must be going. And who’s gonna have this sundae?”

Maril reluctantly looked at the sundae. “It’s alright, Bat. I suppose I’ll try it.”

Bat shrugged. “Okay. The feast of Meniago lies before you.” Bat placed the sundae on the table.

Maril took the spoon and put it in the chocolate, not mentioning that it was Meniero, not Meniago, who had had the feast.

Slowly and reluctantly, Maril pulled the spoon out of the sundae and slid it into his mouth.

To his surprise, it tasted decent. It had the taste of Bembelo’s seeds, the temperature of the ice of Quarsial, and a texture unlike anything Maril had had before. Almost without realizing it, Maril finished the sundae in the next half hour.

When he was finished and had come back to his senses, Maril pulled himself together and walked out of Ten-Forward, back to his quarters. “Thank you, Bat,” he said on his way out.

“Any time, Commander.”

The sun has met the sea,
Commander Onta Maril,
First Officer, USS Feynman,
aka Max Felsher

NRPG: Well, this is mere fluff, with a tiny bit of character development.

Andy, Kris:I didn’t know quite how Zane and Krysa would handle this, so I left it alone.

USS FEYNMAN: Party Time!

by Melanie Pocknall 7-22-1997

SD: 90722.0450
Timeframe: after the struggle with Dr Chavez

For the second time in two missions, Meleah had been 'injured'. The cut on her arm wasn't great, and fortunately it hadn't been as bad as the previous time. The doctor on duty had been able to patch up the skin easily and there had been no damage done to any of the circuits. However, she decided to pay a call on Mr. Cantian, the resident cyberneticist, to see how he was progressing in his work. Then, at least there would be several people that would know what to do in case something did happen to her.

Later, Timeframe: Just arriving in 10-Forward

As Meleah walked towards the table, she saw Krysa, then Zane, stand up and leave 10-F. That left only Maril sitting at the table. For a very brief moment, she wondered whether she should approach him, especially as the two of them had not had a chance to chat previously. Still, there was no time like the present, so she walked up to his table. As she was doing so, Bat made an appearance at Maril's table, then left just before Meleah got there.

"May I sit down, Cmdr?" Meleah asked.

<Max?>

Same time, different location...

A group of blue-uniformed officers made their way down the hallway towards HD4. In their midst were two blindfolded officers, well, cadets, to be more precise. Once the group assembled outside of the holodeck, the blindfolds were removed. Lianna blinked her eyes while they adjusted to the light, then looked to see where she was. The fact that they were at a holodeck stumped her, although her quick mind was beginning to piece together the clues. The fact that the other blindfolded person was her counterpart T'rae, who would be graduating with her when the Feynman got back to their base, gave her the largest hint of all.

"Computer, start program." Several science officers had spent hours putting the holodeck program together, in order to celebrate the cadet's graduations. The doors to the holodeck opened, and everyone looked inside in anticipation.

Inside was a large ballroom filled with streamers and balloons, not to mention plenty of tables with food on them. A band, comprising several junior crew members, was stationed in one corner, and there was a large space for dancing in the middle. "Wow!" Lianna said, as she took the whole scene in.

T'rae, for his part, remained silent. His Vulcan emotions weren't even stirred by the scene. For the ones who hadn't seen the program before, they were quite impressed, and immediately began swarming around the room. Other officers besides science officers, began coming into the holodeck too, and pretty soon there was quite a crowd.

<Anyone want to join in a party? It's welcome to all.>

-------
NRPG:

Just filling in time <G>.

Sincerely yours,
Lt Meleah
Chief Science Officer, RDMMS
USS FEYNMAN
Silver Fleet

Melanie.

USS FEYNMAN: Promotions Of A Sort

by Andrew Catterick 7-23-1997

SD: 90123.1430
MD: 11.1400
Scene: Ready-Room

>After the counselor had left, Zane picked up the little doll holding it >solemnly before his face. "Engage," he spoke before chuckling lightly to >himself.

He sat back in his chair and thought about children on the FEYNMAN. He had always been of two minds with this and for the most part had let regulations take care of the problem. Destroyers did not carry families, children or otherwise. But slowly exceptions to the rule had crept in and now they had a handful of kids in a makeshift school. And he had to admit it made the crew happy. Those whose had brought children aboard didn’t have to leave them behind with some relative who really didn’t want them. Instead they had the opportunity to tuck them in every night to share the important milestones. It was better for the parents, certainly better for the children and happy a crew meant better for the FEYNMAN. But, there were dangers. Starbase’s were rarely destroyed but starships were and FEYNMAN had come close more than its fair share. Zane understood the need for a parent to be with his or her child. But to put them in harm’s way? He thought it risky. Every member of the crew new the dangers and accepted them. But what about the children? Perhaps he would feel different when he had a family of his own. He frowned at the thought. He had always thought Starfleet was not the most conducive environment to raise a family. Long distances apart and rife with danger. But that didn’t matter now. They were here and he would help. He flipped his comm terminal around to contact Maril and see what they could come up with.

-----------------------------------------------
MD: 12.11300
Scene: Classroom

As the doors split open Zane strode in the door. Maril, who had just returned from the tour of the ship he had taken the children on, turned immediately to face the children who had been assembled at the front of the classroom. "Attention on deck!" he shouted out in his best chief petty officer voice. Instantly the 9 children came to attention in a straight line facing the front of the room. Maril fell in to step beside Zane and reported the classroom was ready for inspection. Zane clasped both hands behind his back and walked along the line of children turned and walked back all the while scrutinizing the group. "Is everything satisfactory captain?" Maril asked.

Zane took a last look at the group before replying. "Yes commander, quite satisfactory. Proceed." Both men approached the first student in line. Maril raised his PADD and read aloud. "Larocque, Lisa. Completed level 4, overall average of 87%." Zane looked down at Lisa, MCPO Mike Larocque’s niece. Her parents had been killed in a freak storm on one of the frontier worlds and Mike, her closest relative had agreed to become her guardian. "Larocque, yes a commendable academic record excelling in languages, history and sports. Your uncle tells me you want to join Starfleet as a security officer when you are old enough. Is that correct?"

"Yes captain." Lisa replied boldly.

"You will have to work very hard but from the reports your teachers have given me I have no doubt that you will succeed. In recognition of this hard work I would like to award you with this. Lieutenant?" Zane accepted the small black box that Loren handed him. Inside was a Starfleet insignia pin. It was a little smaller than the standard issue and of course did not include a communicator. Zane removed it from the box and pinned on Lisa’s sweater. Zane did his best to keep a stony face as Lisa beamed with pride but in the end he couldn’t help winking at her before moving to the next student in line.

Again Maril consulted his PADD. "Koreth, Torin. Completed level 6 overall average of 92%."

"You are Commander Koreth’s nephew?"

"Yes sir."

"And your teachers inform me you excel in the sciences and music. Is that correct Mr. Koreth?"

"Yes sir, I have a 95 in physics." The junior Koreth said proudly.

"Very impressive. The hard work your teacher’s say you put into your studies have paid off. Lieutenant?"

Again Loren handed him the small jewelry box and Zane pinned the insignia on Torin’s shirt. "Congratulations, Mr. Torin. I know your uncle is very proud of you." He continued down the line.

Again Maril consulted the PADD. "Rama, Cadence. Completed Level 5 overall average 92%."

Zane looked down at the young girl. She had been onboard FEYNMAN the longest, ever since Meleah had taken her in. "Well Miss Rama, another school year completed and another excellent academic record, high marks across the boards. You keep this up and you’ll be teaching Lt. Meleah a thing or too. Lieutenant?" Again Zane pinned on the insignia before continuing down the line.

When he was finished he returned to the head of the classroom and addressed the group. "As you all know FEYNMAN is the best ship in Starfleet. The reason for this is very simple she has a very dedicated hardworking crew. I, and my officers, are very happy, very proud to see that you are following in their footsteps. You have all worked hard and the results are obvious. I have no doubt that if you continue as you have done you will all be able to accomplish whatever it you set your mind to. And I know the Federation will be a better place for it." He paused and looked at their proud faces and those at the back of the classroom. Commander Maril had put in place a temporary schedule that allowed all parents and guardians attend. "Commander Maril, if you wouldn’t mind."

"Ah sir, before I dismiss the students they have something they’d like to give you."

With a nudge from Loren the youngest step forward and offered Zane a long roll of paper. "Well, what do we have here." Carefully he unraveled the roll to discover a drawing of the FEYNMAN. "This is excellent!" He said with a smile. He turned the picture so all in the room could see it. "Thank-you very much. I can tell you all put a lot of work in to it." By now the excitement of the day had gotten the better of the children and they all swarmed around him. "You could put it in your ready-room." One suggested.

"That’s a great idea…" He paused and snapped his fingers. "But I’ve got a better one. I think it should be displayed in 10-Forward so everyone can enjoy."

"Do you think Bat will let us?" One asked.

"He’s the captain he can do whatever he wants." And older one replied.

"Yeah but Bat told me he really runs the ship." The younger one said.

"Oh did he." Zane replied. "Well I tell you what. Lets all go down their right now and we’ll tell Bat we’re putting it up and that’s that."

-----------------------------------------------------
MD:15.1100
Scene: Bridge

"We’re approaching the SILVER taskforce." Jenn said.

"Slow to impulse Mr. Jerran."

"Slowing to impulse, aye." Jerran replied.

"Captain a WOLFE class frigate has altered course to intercept. Its sending the standard challenges."

"Standard reply Mr. Allard."

"Replies acknowledged. Captain Bask sends his compliments and his welcome. Signal coming through from the Defender. We are to take up position 5000 km of the ship’s port bow. All sensors on active. Standard escort procedure. SILVER OPS sends. ‘welcome home’"

"My compliments to SILVER OPS and the admiral Mr. Allard. Mr. Jerran put us in place."

<<<NRPG>>>

Zane came out a lot more wooden with the children then I meant him too….

And so ends another mission. Due to DoH’s cramped accommodations there will be no shoreleaves so have fun aboard.

Respectfully,
Andy

___________________________________________________________
-Captain Zane, Commanding, USS FEYNMAN
-Commodore Robert Steele, Commanding TF ZINDERNEUF
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence, BLUE Fleet

USS FEYNMAN: Music And Matches

by Kristen Gant 7-25-1997

Stardate: 90725.2128
Scene: 10-Forward
SD: 1.2100

"Come on," she encouraged him as she led the grey skinned CO of the FEYNMAN toward 10-Forward. "I have heard we are in for a real treat!"

"But wouldn't you rather we had a nice quiet evening," he protested gently.

"You aren't still worried about being seen together... are you?˛ she asked with a slight grin on her face. "Cause if that's it... you are too late. It's no longer a secret."

"I know..." he began.

"So come on," she said, smiling as she grabbed his hand and pushed through the door of Bat's domain.

The gentle sounds of twin violins playing greeted their ears and Krysa sighed. "I just love to listen to him play."

Zane nodded, "I think his partner is just as good."

Krysa looked up at the small stage to see Tarrant and his sister both playing. "They sound beautiful together, don't they." She turned to face him with a smug smile, "What did I tell you?"

"You were right," he sighed.

"Hmm, I think I could get used to hearing you say that," she chuckled.

He groaned slightly as she continued to chuckle. She moved to a table and sat down enjoying the Koroth's music.

It was sometime later that she realized Bat hadn't popped over to take their order. She looked toward the bar wondering what was keeping the usually prompt Bat. Her brow raised as she came upon the answer. "Zane .." she whispered.

"Hmm," he mumbled as he listened to the music.

"Tell me what you think of that?"

He looked toward the bar where she was motioning to see Bat sitting listening intently to the FEYNMANąs latest crewmen, Dr. Mary Mac. The captain shrugged, "So?˛ Then he saw the glimmer in Krysaąs eye, and he frowned. "I donąt think you should go there..."

"Go where?" she asked innocently, but Zane's expression didn't change. She sighed, "I was simply thinking that Bat looked like he was enjoying himself. And after all..." she shrugged, "Turn about is fair play. Maybe Bat's not the only match-maker on the FEYNMAN."

Regards,
Lt. Cmdr. Krysa Jenn
OPS/2O, USS FEYNMAN
***
NRPG: This doesn't mean Krysa will actually do anything .. but who knows :)

Kristen

SB EPSILON: Getting Down to Business

by Andrew Catterick 7-26-1997

SD:90726.1100

Robert Steele looked out at the Zinderneuf Outpost with mild distaste. "Have you ever seen something as ugly as that monstrosity?"

"I’ll thank you not to make disparaging remarks about my new home." Captain Gabriel Faison, his executive officer, replied with a smile in his voice. "Although I have to admit to a bit of envy for those aboard the Husnock base."

"You’ve got to be joking?"

"No." Faison replied somewhat surprised. "I’ve had a chance to go over the schematics. The place is fantastic."

"I’ll give you that much. It's that computer I don’t like. Thinks it owns the place. If Nicholas has any sense he’d pull the plug on the damn thing."

"Without the computer’s help we’d still be trying to figure out how to turn the lights on, not to mention the thousand and one other essential systems." He paused for a second. "Here comes our fighter escort. Looks like Fleet’s promises were actually true this time, they’re all top of the line."

Steele turned to face the viewport again, scrutinizing the fighters. He made out some broadswords and a few excaliburs mixed in with the standard Starfleet fighter. The wing of fighters approached quickly with the base as their backdrop which in turn was dwarfed by the swirling turmoil of the sack. Not an inviting place.

"We’ll need them." Steele answered more to himself than his exec. He had spent the past month in countless briefings and reviewing a mountain of intel reports as to what lay beyond. All pointed to the same thing, no one had any idea what the hell was going on inside the Nebula but there had been ample proof from the few successful missions that it wasn’t a very inviting place. Countless factions of pirates, mercenaries, alien races and even a contingent of washed out Starfleet officers with stolen ships from GREY Fleet’s graveyards vied for control. And for every group discovered there were at least half a dozen more waiting in the wings. And now SILVER fleet was rolling up. To the rest of the Sack’s inhabitants they would merely be another entry in the struggle for dominance. He had no illusions that the road ahead would be a treacherous one and while he silently admitted to a dozen fears of what might be he felt excited at the prospects. Zinderneuf would enjoy a multitude of missions from research and exploration to diplomacy and keeping the peace. He knew it wasn’t the same as standing on the bridge of his ship flying out into the unknown. But for the first time he was beginning to believe the admiral’s assurances that the rewards and challenges, while not the same, were just as intriguing.

He noted the prison barge break from formation and move towards the base. A prison on a fleet base! He shook his head wondering which master mind in accounting had come up with that credit saver and which admiral had let himself be bamboozled. Minimum security risk was the official designation of Zinderneuf’s ‘guests’. Of course not many low-level criminals got shipped out to the edge of nowhere. He had no illusions of the types to be found in the prison-village. At least that would be an Upshaw problem.

A signal from the bridge interrupted the momentary silence. [Commodore Steele you have a message coming in.]

"Pipe it down here please." Steele said as he swung the desk terminal round to face him. "Marla!"

Commander Marla Branno, Zinderneuf’s new quartermaster, smiled back at him. When Steele had been given command he had asked the admiral to transfer SILVER"S QM, Harla Branno to Zinderneuf. Nicholas had refused but had done the next best thing. He had found Harla’s twin sister Marla and assigned her the duty.

"How are things going?" Steele asked.

[About as well as can be expected for a Fleet move. The stuff I don’t need, that was supposed to arrive last, is clogging my cargo bays and the stuff I do need?] She raised her hands in exasperation. [Probably half way to Bajor by now.]

"I have the utmost confidence in you, Marla. You know that." He chuckled.

For a moment Branno considered if she knew the Commodore well enough to use a few choice words. Reluctantly she decided against it and changed the subject. [We’ve had some visitors from the sack, three trade delegations and a few ‘business’ people interested in setting up shop on the base. I’d really like to do so some dealing with the traders. Is procedure in place?]

"Officially they have to apply for a license to trade with the Federation and Starfleet. Six months later some onbe in the red tape brigade that one page out of 10,000 has a spelling mistake and the whole thing will have to start again. Unofficially, I can declare it necessary to the maintenance of the fleet. So lets play it that way."

"But its.." Marla began to object.

"Its my understanding that the supplies they have are necessary. Lets not make it harder by filling me in." He grinned.

[Understood. What about the would-be merchants?]

"That, I am happy to say is Upshaw’s concern. Pass them along to him."

[With pleasure. You know you owe me dinner for all this. I was very happy in my little frontier base.]

"Well now you can be happy in a big frontier base. Let me know when and where. Thanks, Marla. Steele out."

Faison spoke up. "We’ve been called to the bridge."

Steele’s eyes flickered over to the desk chrono. "Almost show time. Lets go." He was surprised at his own excitement.

<<<NRPG>>>

Harla Branno was a NPC Quartermaster on EPSILON. FEYNMAN has a habit of losing things, especially shuttles, so Branno proved to be an unforgiving taskmaster bent on proving we were negligent. Her twin sister will be no less forgiven. Feel free to use her.

Joseph: Sorry no escape for you!

TF ZINDERNEUF: Could those of you heading for TFZ add me to your mailing lists <zane@iaw.on.ca>. Thanks. I'm looking forward to reading your adventures!

Respectfully,
Andy
___________________________________________________________
-Captain Zane, Commanding, USS FEYNMAN
-Commodore Robert Steele, Commanding TF ZINDERNEUF
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence, BLUE Fleet

SB EPSILON: Approaching Zinderneuf

by Mike Dawe 7-25-1997

SD: 90725

Azariah stretched his back as he came out onto the bridge. The viewscreen had maximum magnification and a small starbase glittered in the center of the screen. It looked like a spiky torus, or a deep sea creature glittering in the oceans of stars. Within 10 parsecs of the newly formed starsystems (courtesy of the Regent) the base would provide access into the Lions Mane nebula.

Pirates, lost civilizations, stellar oddities that wouldn't happen outside in open space. A compact little corner of the Universe that might take as long as the rest of the sector to explore. The angle of approach put the nebula on the right of the screen, twisting and throwing streamers of light across the bridge.

*And again I send them in without being able to go myself.* He thought to himself, an age old complaint that he alleviated with occasional vacations. But there had been no time for vacations lately and he could almost feel the siren call of space.

*Steel complains that he won't be tied behind a desk and he doesn't know the half of it. If he did know what I was setting him up for he would shoot me and fight his way clear of this madhouse that I have saddled him with. A base on the edge of the most lawless area in this sector and they put a prison in it. Oh sure, they say that these are all low risk prisoners. But I know how the courts work. Find the right judge and a good lawyer and anyone could get sent here.*

The base was growing noticeably. A squadron of fighters shot off of the rim of the torus and came sweeping out to greet the incoming ships. A display to one side showed the relative sizes and positions of all the ships in the area in a holographic display. The Husnock vessel was made for combat and in space bearings could be easily lost without such an overview. The fighters were dwarfed by the three starfleet vessels escorting the Defender. They, in turn were made small in comparison with the Husnock vessel itself.

Challenge and reply was an unlistened to byplay as he looked at the base grow, but he wasn't looking at the base, his mind was planning the meeting that was to come. *Steel is needed here. By now he knows that.*

The opening of the way into the 'sack is a two way street. The Regent had tangled with a Klingon warship owned by pirates and come off lucky. Fighter groups and a mismatch of politics made for an even more complex scenario. There were severral consortiums of pirates and renegade traders. Sometimes the line was very blurred between the two.

*The Callisto,* he thought to himself. A small ship, able to shoot into the nebula even without the doorway made by the Regent. Which would mean that it could go further in and map out the new uncharted reaches of the nebula. It also meant that it would be the most isolated if push came to shove. The problem was easily stated. A big ship might be needed but it wouldn't get into the tight corners. A little ship could get there . . . and die. Azariah had staffed the Callisto specifically for such a dichotomy. It wouldn't die. *Sometimes a dirk will serve where a sword cannot.*

The Endeavour, the opposite of the Callisto, when it came to size. This ship had been the diplomatic contact ship. It went and tried to keep the peace with the decidedly unfriendly aliens and situations that abounded in this sector. It would be the secondary flagship and the mainstay of TFZ.

The Feynman, another small ship that had been instrumental in getting Epsilon its new home. Its experience within the nebula would serve Steel well, if he used the information wisely. He had read Zane's last report and disagreed with the final personal analysis that the Feynman's CO had done. The mission HAD been a success, even if the contact had been rocky and unlikly to be repeated.

The Hawking, last of the four ships being attached to the TFZ it had weathered some major personnel turnover. For some ships this was the kiss of doom. Azariah hoped that this was not the case here.

Damn, personel files. He was very behind on his paperwork and he would have to present something to Steel. He cleared his throat and announced. "Hrrmf, I'll be in my office. Call me when we have made it to station keeping position."

He then left the bridge which was a more relaxed place as a result. Much more relaxed. The trip to his office overlooking the flight deck of the Defender was uneventful save for the comm calls to various clerks, lighting a fire under them to get his files assembled and up to date for the transfer of command.

<<<nrpg>>> Andy, over to you for the approach and Steel's view of what is coming up.

As for the rest of you, My ships and Andy's. I need, and MUST HAVE a current roster from your ship with a needs list if you want new crew. Now would also be a good time to identify deadwood and ask them if they plan on contnuing play. This is true even if you sent me a roster 'yesterday'.

mike--->trying to get back on his feet, game wise
Vice Admiral Azariah Nicholas CINCSILVER
Captain Christof Fife USS REGENT
Lt. Cmdr Eskat Eskat CNS USS HERMES
Lt James Cardiff FCO DEFENDER
Lt. Derek O'Malley CNS USS CALLISTO
Kytan Duandir XO HRSS St. Jude
mdawe@islandnet.com

USS FEYNMAN: Vulcans and Musicians

by Max Felsher 7-27-1997

SD 90728.0100(GMT)
First Officer’s Office

Maril set down one PADD and picked up another. This one was supposed to be his view of the sociocultural interactions between the lapine and the humanoid Karrestrians, to be submitted to the Federation Board of Sociology.

He set the PADD down and stood up. “Computer, record dictated speech and transcribe to PADD 9. Begin.”

<Acknowledged.>

“The lapine and humanoid populations of Karrest interacted in very strange ways. The humanoids were at medieval level of society, while the lapines had a more advanced society and much more advanced technology. Therefore-”

There was a beep at the door to his office.

He turned his head to the door. “Computer...pause transcription. Enter.”

The doors whisked open, revealing an upright Vulcan in a red uniform who looked like he could face the great eagle of Mivel and not blink.

The Vulcan stepped, with the exactness of a machine, into the center of the office. “Warrant Officer Sadel reporting for duty, sir.”

Maril quietly sat down in his chair. “At ease, Mr. Sadel.” Neither smiling nor frowning, he said, “I was not told of this personnel transfer. What department are you to be transferred to?”

Sedal raised an eyebrow. “I am to be your aide, sir.”

Maril raised an eyebrow in response. “I assure, you, Mr. Sedal, I am not in need of an aide.”

“I was told that you requested one, sir.”

Maril looked puzzled for a second, but then he remembered. He had requested a new aide soon after his former one, Bellad Jafel, had left. However, none had come for several weeks and Maril had resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to get one. In the time since Bellad had left, Maril had gotten used to doing his own scheduling and paperwork.

Maril cleared his throat. “I did file that request and I am sorry that you came this far, but I am not in need of an aide.”

“Sir, regulations insist that a command-level officer have an aide to assist. This allows-”

“I am aware of the regulations, Mr. Sedal. And I repeat--I do not need an aide.”

Sedal once again raised his eyebrow. “Sir, I have my orders. I intend to follow them....if there is nothing more, sir....”

Maril sighed. “You are dismissed, Mr. Sedal.”

Sedal turned precisely and walked out of Maril’s office, again with steps precise enough to be a robot’s.

Maril sighed again and turned his attention back to the report. “Computer, resume transcription. Therefore, there was little contact between the two civilizations. Added to this was the rampant xenophobia in the lapine civilization. This made any contact whatsoever between the two cultures highly unlikely, and sociocultural interactions even more so. However, occasionally....”

Ten-Forward

Maril listened to the Koreths play their duet, silent. It was not just he who was silent; there was not a sound in the room besides that coming off the strings. Ten-Forward, while not designed to provide good acoustics, nevertheless provided a good venue for the performance.

Finally, the two musicians stopped and the hum of the warp engine, at the other end of the ship, could be softly heard. Then the audience erupted into applause. The Koreths stood up and bowed, and slowly the crowd quieted down.

Almost automatically, conversations started up. People started to move around; food was ordered. Maril stepped through the crowd to the two musicians.

He greeted Lt. Commander Koreth, who was talking with Zane and Jenn. “That was an outstanding performance, Commander. You and your sister play well with each other,” Maril said, shaking the engineer’s hand.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to congratulate the other musician.”

He walked over to Ferra Koreth and shook her hand. “Excellent performance, Ms. Koreth.”

Ferra smiled. “Thank you, Commander.”

The sun has met the sea,
Commander Onta Maril,
First Officer, USS Feynman,
aka Max Felsher

USS FEYNMAN: For Melanie

by Kevin Thigpen 7-30-1997

Stardate: 90730.2336
Scene: CNS's Office
SLD: [NRPG: Whip and spank me, but I have no idea as to where we are concerning the MD's right now. Please someone enlighten me <BG>. Thanks.]

"Afternoon, sir," spoke the very attractive young yeoman as she passed by J.C. No reason in particular she should have even noticed the CSO as he strolled on his way towards Loren's office.

J.C. nodded his head in passing. Thoughts that should have come to mind with the look the woman gave him, hadn't surfaced in J.C. for quite some time, especially since his wife passed. Unconsciously, or consciously, these thoughts never found their way up to the surface and J.C. cut any type of possible conversation short with his curt nod and continued brisk walk. In short, both continued on their way.

There were even other things on the CSO's mind today. He was up for a rematch with Loren. Having a ship's counselor with a higher markmanship score than the ship's CSO was just unacceptable, for J.C. at least.. Today was the day of his rematch, and J.C. had been looking forward to this for quite some time.

As his stroll brought him to the door's to the counselor's office, J.C. recalled how distracted the counselor looked the past few days, as if his mind was totally preoccupied with something else. Definitely out of character for the young counselor to be anywhere without his usual mischevious smile. *Maybe he's getting seasoned,* considered J.C.

J.C. hit the chime outside the door. Several seconds, and no response. He tapped the panel again, harder for emphasis, but still no response. Not wanting to jump the gun, he queried the computer on Loren's location.

The computer told him exactly what he didn't want to hear. Loren was in his office. Just as he was about to order the security override, he heard a pained voice call out "Come".

The doors slid open and J.C. stepped cautiously in. The place was wrecked. Chairs lay upended, and smashed furniture littered the floor.

"Computer, lights," ordered J.C. Immediately the dark room brightened, illuminating the shattered pieces and a pale counselor, breathing heavily sitting behind the only piece of furniture in the room undamaged, his desk.

"I'm not really sure whether to ask what did this," began J.C. quietly sensing the boiling emotions inside Loren. One didn't have to be telepath to see the stew of emotions behind his dark, usually impassive eyes.

Loren continued staring straight ahead, beyond J.C. even after the doors slid close behind the CSO. After nearly a minute of silence, with J.C. looking idly around, still half-expecting some Karrestrian or some other malevolent force to jump out of corner, Loren spoke.

"Years and still no answer," he stated quietly as if utterly surprised.

J.C. took a step forward now, and noticed the counselor's hand resting on his desk PADD, which was still turned to face him.

Steadily he approached the desk and turned the PADD around to face him. It didn't take him long to recognize some sort of passenger manifest. Names scrolled down the screen at the touch of a button.

"I don't get it. What's the problem?"

A light, thin chuckle escaped Loren's lips. "The problem?" he stated as if coming out of a trance eyes focusing on J.C. for the first time since he entered the room. "The problem is that of all the names on that list, not a single one belongs to me. In fact, that ship has no record of anyone my age even coming aboard...ever."

"It's probably a mistake, or..or some glitch..."

"No. It's not. The records are aged, but remarkably intact. Everything's authentic and checks out. In short, I'm just no closer to finding anything out. About myself or my parents."

Loren with elbows propped on his desk, placed his head in his hands and sobbed. He cried for a very selfish reason, that many took for granted. His choking sobs were those of a young man whose driving force, nay major motivation to survive when the odds stacked up against him, for years had been to find his own little niche in the universe where a family waited patiently for his return to their loving arms.

Now, he had not even that.

J.C. turned to leave the counselor to his own thoughts. Before leaving a few of his own came to mind. For the first time since he'd known the energetic, really thrill-seeking but somehow level-headed counselor, he had never seen him bow to such an emotional onslaught of his own devising.

Yet another time in his life, J.C.'s thoughts turned briefly to Wendy, his late wife. For the first time in many years, he thanked the stars for the small moments with Wendy that opposed the lifetime he'd have without her. He tried hard to imagine that very same lifetime without those small moments.

Sincerely submitted,
Kevin Thigpen
Lt(jg) Loren Landers
USS FEYNMAN CNS

[NRPG: Just a little character development. My condolences go to you and your loved ones Melanie. I'm sure things will work out for the best :).]

***********************************************************************
"Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so each small
piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry."
---Richard Feynman
***********************************************************************

USS FEYNMAN: Counsellor's Dilema - Part II

by Michael "Mike" Dailey 7-31-1997

SD: 90731.1700 [GMT]
MD: -??.0700 (lost as well)
SCENE: Holodeck 2

It was in fact a genuine rarity for J.C to be awake and vigilant at this unbearable hour, unless under Battle Stations or some such crisis. However, since shore leave had been restricted to staying on-board the FEYNMAN, the CSO had decided to take one day of pure R&R, leaving security in the capable hands of the ACSO, Rory Heywood. Rory would enjoy his time off the following day, as J.C. had adjusted the roster so each trooper could enjoy at least 24 hrs while they were in port.

Stumbling out of bed at 0630, J.C. donned a pair of shorts, sneakers, and a favourite T-shirt with the Academy logo on the front, and on the back proclaiming the 'Class of 2408 - We're *THE* Number One!' in bold lettering.

Arriving at the holodeck, he found rooms one and three were in use, but two was vacant. The persons using it before had left some strange sort of Space drama loaded. When J.C. entered, he was greeted by two androids. The smaller of the two didn't speak, just emitting erratic beeps. The taller, metallic golden coloured one had a Britt accent similar to Ens. Heywood's.

After a few minutes, J.C. grew very bored with the program, and loaded a immense park setting with paved paths. Climbing on board his bicycle, the CSO set off for a brisk ride through the park. He had the computer provide a random setting for the park each time the program was run, to provide a change of scenery.

[SNIP] One hour later

The holodeck doors opened to emit a worn-out J.C. His legs were quite tired from near constant pedaling, and his heart rate was pounding in his ears, but he felt invigorated none the less. *Nothing beats a bike ride.*

After returning to his quarters for a quick shower, J.C. headed to 10-Forward for a bite of breakfast. Tray loaded with a large glass of orange juice, and an oversized Belgian waffle he spotted the ship's XO, Commander Onta Maril.

"May I join you, Sir?" inquired J.C. Maril gestured to the chair opposite his,

"Of course, Lt. Inzani returns home." J.C. lay his tray down, never quite understanding the Tamarian's metaphors. He noticed the Commander had only a cup of what smelled like Terran coffee.

"No breakfast for you, Sir?" He poured a generous dribble of thick syrup onto his waffle. Maril shook his head,

"Not this morning, Mr. Allard. Hunger seems to have escaped me." It came to J.C. that he rarely saw the XO eat much at all, perhaps the Tamarian just had different dietary requirements, oh well.

"Any word on our next mission or briefing?" J.C. probed for a bit of information. He really didn't expect an answer to be forthcoming, even if the Commander did know some details.

"Tenlor lost in the darkened caves, Mr. Allard." replied the XO. J.C. took that as a negative response. The conversation drifted to ship's business, which he had hoped to avoid as much as possible today.

In near record time the CSO had devoured the waffle, and washed it down with the last few gulps of orange juice.

"Although I see your appetite was well in force this morning, Mr. Allard," observed Maril. J.C. blushed a bit,

"Yes, Sir. I worked up a bit of hunger this morning. I feel completely recharged, now." J.C. rose to head out, "If you'll excuse me, Sir. Off to plan the rest of my day."

"Enjoy your day, Lieutenant." offered Maril. J.C. has absolutely no doubt in that.

[SNIP] CSO's quarters. Time 1130 hrs.

J.C. scrolled over to the exit menu to log off the mail server from his desk console. He had spent the morning catching up on some old mail he had delayed long enough. After replying to messages from his Grandparents on Deep Space 5 and his Uncle Johan Bauer on SB ALPHA, J.C. sent messages to his younger brother Kevin on Terra and some other family members he had not contacted in a while. A glance at the desk chrono had surprised him that so much time had passed, enough so that he was becoming quite hungry again.

Preferring a lite luncheon, J.C. keyed in a small sandwich and soda from his own replicator. As he munched on his lunch, J.C. eyes wandered to his sidearm resting on the corner of his desk. A little unfinished business with a certain member of the crew came to mind, a after completing his lunch, J.C. seized his sidearm and off-duty holster and departed his quarters bound for the Counsellor's office.

[SNIP] Deck 10 - Aft section. ((SEE NOTE AT BOTTOM))

The lift deposited J.C. onto the aft section of deck 10, what he personally referred to as 'Loren's Domain'. At first many wondered why the CNS had chosen such an unusual locale for his office, but as this was the social centre of the ship, what better location.

Walking around the corridors, J.C. thought's dwelled on the Star Fleet Phaser Team qualifications. Circumstances of fate, which he would rather forget, prevented him from attending the last try-outs. He intended to make the next one's in a month, but had a personal matter to attend to beforehand.

Several crewmen and NCO's passed by, nodding mutual greetings though J.C.'s mind was elsewhere.

> "Afternoon, sir," spoke the very attractive young yeoman as she passed by
> J.C. No reason in particular she should have even noticed the CSO as he
> strolled on his way towards Loren's office.

> J.C. nodded his head in passing. "Hrmf, Yeoman." mumbled J.C.

> Thoughts that should have come to mind with the look the woman gave him,
> hadn't surfaced in J.C. for quite some time, especially since his wife passed.
> Unconsciously, or consciously, these thoughts never found their way up to the
> surface and J.C. cut any type of possible conversation short with his curt nod
> and continued brisk walk. In short, both continued on their way.

*Hmm, haven't seen her before? Must be a new transfer.* thought J.C. *Cute, but I don't have time for that now. I have my life and my career, and that's enough... or am I really just hiding behind that wall of excuses I've built. My job definitely keeps me busy.*

Thoughts flashed back to the Academy, the various nocturnal carousing and activities that J.C. and his squad mates had immersed upon, more than once landing them in boiling-hot water with Barracks NCO, Sgt. Smithers.

> There were even other things on the CSO's mind today. He was up for a
> rematch with Loren. Having a ship's counsellor with a higher marksmanship
> score than the ship's CSO was just unacceptable, for J.C. at least.. Today
> was the day of his rematch, and J.C. had been looking forward to this for
> quite some time.
>
> As his stroll brought him to the door's to the counsellor's office, J.C.
> recalled how distracted the counsellor looked the past few days, as if his
> mind was totally preoccupied with something else. Definitely out of
> character for the young counsellor to be anywhere without his usual
> mischievous smile. *Maybe he's getting seasoned,* considered J.C.
>
> J.C. hit the chime outside the door. Several seconds, and no response.
> He tapped the panel again, harder for emphasis, but still no response.
> Not wanting to jump the gun, he queried the computer on Loren's location.

"Computer, location of Loren Landers?" asked an irritated J.C.

[Loren Landers is currently in the Counsellors office, Deck 10 section....]

"Belay that, computer. I know where the bloody office is!" J.C. muttered a few colourful metaphors regarding ship's computers.

> Just as he was about to order the security override, he heard
> a pained voice call out "Come".
>
> The doors slid open and J.C. stepped cautiously in. The place was
> wrecked. Chairs lay upended, and smashed furniture littered the floor.

With great relief J.C. was glad he carried his sidearm with him. Now in hand, he scanned the room, waiting the few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

> "Computer, lights," ordered J.C. Immediately the dark room brightened,
> illuminating the shattered pieces and a pale counsellor, breathing heavily
> sitting behind the only piece of furniture in the room undamaged, his
> desk.

"Are you all right?" asked J.C. The quite disheveled counsellor said nothing, and he took the silence as affirmative, returning his Mark V to its holster.

> "I'm not really sure whether to ask what did this," began J.C. quietly
> sensing the boiling emotions inside Loren. One didn't have to be telepath
> to see the stew of emotions behind his dark, usually impassive eyes.

J.C. remembered the ferocity of which the Counsellor had attacked the Husnock some months past, even surprising Ivan Karr, the largest and strongest of his troopers.

> Loren continued staring straight ahead, beyond J.C. even after the doors
> slid close behind the CSO. After nearly a minute of silence, with J.C.
> looking idly around, still half-expecting some Karrestrian or some other
> malevolent force to jump out of corner, Loren spoke.
>
> "Years and still no answer," he stated quietly as if utterly surprised.
>
> J.C. took a step forward now, and noticed the counsellor's hand resting on
> his desk PADD, which was still turned to face him.

"May I?" asked J.C., not wanting to invade his friends privacy. Again unmoving, J.C. took that as consent.

> Steadily he approached the desk and turned the PADD around to face him.
> It didn't take him long to recognise some sort of passenger manifest.
> Names scrolled down the screen at the touch of a button.
>
> "I don't get it. What's the problem?"
>
> A light, thin chuckle escaped Loren's lips. "The problem?" he stated as
> if coming out of a trance eyes focusing on J.C. for the first time since
> he entered the room. "The problem is that of all the names on that
> list, not a single one belongs to me. In fact, that ship has no record of
> anyone my age even coming aboard...ever."

Most everyone on board, especially the Senior staff were aware of Loren's struggle to find some information about his true family and past.

> "It's probably a mistake, or..or some glitch..."
>
> "No. It's not. The records are aged, but remarkably intact.
> Everything's authentic and checks out. In short, I'm just no closer to
> finding anything out. About myself or my parents."
>
> Loren with elbows propped on his desk, placed his head in his hands and
> sobbed. He cried for a very selfish reason, that many took for granted.
> His choking sobs were those of a young man whose driving force, nay major
> motivation to survive when the odds stacked up against him, for years
> had been to find his own little niche in the universe where a family
> waited patiently for his return to their loving arms.
>
> Now, he had not even that.
>
> J.C. turned to leave the counsellor to his own thoughts. Before leaving
> a few of his own came to mind. For the first time since he'd known the
> energetic, really thrill-seeking but somehow level-headed counsellor, he
> had never seen him bow to such an emotional onslaught of his own devising.

They were not that dissimilar, both having distant relatives but no one really close to fill that empty spot with.

> Yet another time in his life, J.C.'s thoughts turned briefly to Wendy, his
> late wife. For the first time in many years, he thanked the stars for
> the small moments with Wendy that opposed the lifetime he'd have without
> her. He tried hard to imagine that very same lifetime without those small
> moments.

But those thought were buried behind the wall J.C. had constructed. The wall of his life, his few close friends, distant relatives, and his career. Many people in the 'fleet say they're 'married to their ship' and jobs. And so it was, the FEYNMAN may be named for a Terran physicist, but the essence of the ship, and the duty with her was all the room J.C. had in his heart for now.

Cautiously, J.C. rested a hand on his friends shoulder, damp with perspiration from the earlier rampage. Loren winced slightly at his friends touch, then unmoving except for the quiet sobs emanated from his face buried in his arms on the desk.

"I'm here, my friend." For a moment, J.C. was at a loss of words. He was glad being one of the few esper-blind people, as right now he was clueless as what to offer Loren. How does one counsel the Counsellor? J.C. was not quite sure of the plan that formed in his mind, but he could think of nothing else. Either this would succeed or possible loose one of his few close friends.

"I'm not going to let you give up so easy... Sure, this lead ran into a dead end just like the other, but that doesn't mean you have to quit" J.C. said sternly, perhaps a but too harsh. He withdrew his hand, as Loren's damp, red face rose to meet his eyes. "I know you Loren, and I would expect better from you!".

At first there was nothing but fury, perhaps enough to slice through their friendship. Ice-chilled silence engulfed the room, nothing breaking the two staring at one another.

Loren struggled to regain control, bringing all of his training to bear. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, then another. Near normal composure, Loren spoke in a most quiet whisper to his comrade,

"I'm the Counsellor, reverse psychology won't work on me, J.C." The smallest sign of a smile appeared, then faded. For now, it was all he could bring his emotions to muster. J.C. pulled another chair opposite Loren's.

"I'm glad I didn't have to stun you," nudged J.C. back to his playful self. "But I DID mean what I said. I'll help in any way I can. Uncle Johan has a few 'old friends'. We can talk to him if you like..." Loren did two things that literally shocked J.C.

Resting his hand on J.C.'s shoulder, Loren averted the CSO's eyes, but spoke ever so quietly,

"Thank you, Justin." Of his family, only his grandparents, his brothers Kevin and Benjamin, and of course Wendy had called him that. On the Feynman, his closest friend Bat had consoled him out of moods similar to Loren's many times over, the last time J.C. had told Bat to call him his given name. Bat reminded him not of his own father, who had never been there for J.C. in his troubling teen years, but Uncle Johan, who had been MORE like a father than his own. J.C. pictured a meeting someday in the near future, of himself, Kevin, Benjamin, and Loren all three he would call his brothers and friends.

Submitted, Mike Dailey splatter2@qtm.net

******** * NRPG * ********

Well, a bit mushy, but I enjoyed it. After all, we've had enough 'bar room brawls' for a few missions. (Oh, how we miss The Wall.)

Kevin, RE your office. I skimmed a few backposts, but found nothing detailing WHERE it is. I conjured this idea up, but if it contradicts anything you previously established, dismiss it as the babblings of a tired guy.

Max - thanks for breakfast... <G>

As always, Cheers!

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
= "But that dread of something after death, the undiscovered country from whose +
+ bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those =
= ills we have than fly to others that we know not of..." Hamlet +
+ =
= Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard - CSO USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG +
+ Lt. [Dr.] D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - UNASSIGNED SILVER FLEET =
= Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny - CNS USS BURKE GREEN FLEET +
+ Lcdr. Ion Steiner - L.C. SFDITF TEAM ALPHA-1 Star Fleet Diplomatic Task Force =
= Capt. Johan Bauer - COMSFDITF "All I ask is a tall ship..." +
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=