StarFleet Bureau of Information

USS Feynman DEC 1996: Difference between revisions

Page Discussion

USS Feynman DEC 1996 (view source)

Revision as of 18:37, 4 September 2024

75,945 bytes added ,  4 September 2024
m
no edit summary
mNo edit summary
mNo edit summary
 
(22 intermediate revisions by the same user not shown)
Line 3: Line 3:
<center><font style="font-size: 50px; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold; text-shadow: 4px 4px 4px black;">U.S.S. ''FEYNMAN'' NCC-66000<br> December 1996 Posts</font></center>
<center><font style="font-size: 50px; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold; text-shadow: 4px 4px 4px black;">U.S.S. ''FEYNMAN'' NCC-66000<br> December 1996 Posts</font></center>
<div style="float:right; margin-top: 5px; padding-right: 50px;">[[Image:FEYNMAN PATCH DRAFT2.png|550px|FEYNMAN Shoulder Patch|center]]</div>
<div style="float:right; margin-top: 5px; padding-right: 50px;">[[Image:FEYNMAN PATCH DRAFT2.png|550px|FEYNMAN Shoulder Patch|center]]</div>
<font style="font-size: large; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">TOTAL DECEMBER 1996 POSTS: *TBD*</font>
<font style="font-size: large; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">TOTAL DECEMBER 1996 POSTS: 36</font>
{{Template:USS_FEYNMAN_POST_ARCHIVES}}
{{Template:USS_FEYNMAN_POST_ARCHIVES}}
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Moving On</h3>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Moving On</h3>
Line 2,356: Line 2,356:


Potest esse nur unus
Potest esse nur unus
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: The Doctor's Orders...</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Michael "Mike" Dailey 12-20-1996</h4>
SD: 81220.2230<br>
SCENE: J.C. Quarters<br>
MD: 9.0645<br>
<Current ship's time is 0645 hrs.> The FEYNMAN computer alarm responded
at the preset time.
<Current ship's time is 0646 hrs.>
Rolling over, the CSO gathered a pillow and tossed it towards the
disembodied voice...
"Mrfg.. I'g gefffing urp..", spoken in the mystical language of the
undead.
<Current ship's time is 0647 hrs.>
"Alright, computer. Belay the ALARM." said J.C., slowly rising from the
dead. Stretching, he fought every instinct to go back to sleep.
< Acknowledged. You have three new mail messages.>
He would read them later, probably just 'junk-mail'. After the 'fun' he
had roller-blading, and almost plowing into the senior staff like
cricket balls, and then the 'exercise' session he had with the CEO,
Tarrant Koreth, sleep had been top priority at 0100 hrs, when he finally
got to bed.
Rubbing his still slightly painful lip, J.C. headed for the shower.
"Computer, what time is it?" now almost 90% awake.
<Current ship's time is 0648>
"Oh, great. The eval!". J.C. hurried into the shower, and changed into
his uniform. He has used to sleeping until about 0720 and being ready
for the start of ALPHA at 0745. Glancing in the mirror for a last quick
look, J.C. gave his hair a quick comb. It was time for a haircut. The
white toner was fading back to his original light-brown. *Oh well, it
was great at the academy*, he thought.
As he left his quarters, it was 0656. He made the lift at the end of
DECK 5 in record time. Leaning against the back of the lift, J.C. though
about the psych tests at ALB and the Academy he had been grinded
through. Most people felt uncomfortable with the entire idea of probing
one's thoughts, fears, and emotions. Shuddering at the memories J.C.
would rather forget.
Being in the 1% of all Terrans that were esper-blind or 'psy-null',
or whatever term the doctors and shrinks happen to choose when referring
to people that had absolutely no psyonic capability. That made him feel
even more like a guinea pig. But, he had been told, that in itself was a
gift, for no one could uses his mind or thoughts against him.
Still there had been that embarrassing incident with the Reavers...
Glin'Kharr said it was a fluke, probably more due to exhaustion that
mental manipulation. He had avoided Mr. Maril for a few days after that
one.
J.C. was a bit curious about the new CNS, he had not had the time
to review Mr. Landers' service record. He imagined they were about the
same age. *Good,* thought J.C. *I won't be the 'rookie' any more.* He
had to remind Landers to qualify with his sidearm as soon as time
permitted.
The lift slowed to deposit the CSO on the holodeck, awaiting Mr.
Landers' arrival.
Submitted,<br>
Mike Dailey<br>
Splatter2@qtm.net<br>
Lieutenant J.G., J.C. Allard SEC-TAC - USS FEYNMAN - SILVER FLEET<br>
Lieutenant D'doj Zzawj Ckorji MD OPS/2O - USS ELIZABETH BLACKWELL - SILVER FLEET<br>
Lieutenant Commander [Retired] Jordon Kabreigny - UNASSIGNED<br>
=======<br>
= NRPG  =<br>
=======<br>
Hello all, from the cold reaches of INDIANA, where the high was 10.
Let's have a BBQ!! OK, maybe not. <G>. Just a little one to get J.C. to
the meeting. Yes, J.C. is esper-blind, something I picked up from one of
my fav. novels.
Jason, hope the 'boxing-match' was O.K., you can rp the fencing fellows
match as soon as J.C./Tarrant have some off-time.... can't wait <G>.
Kevin, as much as J.C. hated the roller-disaster, I liked it <G>. He's
all yours.
HO HO HO<br>
and Cheers!<br>
Mike<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Epsilon... Red?</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 12-21-1996</h4>
Stardate: 81221.1422<br>
Scene: Bridge<br>
MD: 10.0800<br>
Krysa watched as Lt. Jerran brought the FEYNMAN into dock at SB EPSILON. It
was always good to get back to the starbase. While it couldn't be
considered 'home' it certainly was an anchor point for crew, and a place
for them go and get their spirits lifted.
Krysa was finished a few last minute docking tests for the sensors when she
felt a presence behind her. She looked up to see Ens. Garrett behind her.
"You're early, Jeanine." She said.
"I know. But I figured you'd want to have a chance to get ready."
Krysa smiled, "Yes, I suppose I should.'
"Ready for what?" Teri asked leaning over towards her.
Krysa raised an eyebrow at him, "I have my psych evaluation this morning,
if you must know."
"Ahh, time to get counseled."
Krysa knew Jerran was teasing her and she let him have his fun as she
headed out. Some time in her quarters out to help quell her raging nerves
before she had to meet Ens. Landers.
<<NRPG: I don't think anyone wrote us actually making it to EPSILON yet, so
I did :}>>
***<br>
Scene: CNS Office->Holodeck<br>
MD: 10.0955<br>
<I>
Loren escorted the 2nd officer to the door. As she made her way down the
corridor, Loren stood in the doorway and called to her suddenly and for the
briefest moment telepathically. *I'm also here if you need to talk about
the moving on part of your life as well.*
Krysa was surprised partly because she hadn't been able to use her
telepathic powers often or well, but also because she could feel the grin
from Loren in the brief contact.
Krysa permitted herself a smile and kept walking. Secrets never stayed
secrets long on the FEYNMAN.</I>
She could only hope it would remain a secret from the rest of the crew at
least until she knew what the secret was. What she felt for the captain was
much different then her feelings for Kavan. With him there really had been
little choice. And what little choice there was, had nothing to do with
Kavan. It had to do with accepting or rejecting her father's decision. Now
she had her own decisions to make .. and she wanted so much to make the
right one. For to lose the relationship she'd had with Zane up until now,
was unacceptable.
She headed to a holodeck that she had reserved for herself for the
afternoon. She planned on spending the day in spa doing nothing but
lounging and being waited on hand and foot. She approached the holodeck,
"Computer, run program Tricoci-43"
<Program now running, you may enter when ready.>
Krysa stepped in and was met by a handsome maitre'de with long silver
streaked dark hair. "Good morning, Miss Jenn, if you step this way, your
day of luxury awaits you."
Krysa nodded and stepped into her own private spa.
<<NRPG: Yes this is what I truly want for Christmas :} Don't know if any of
you have Mario Tricoci Salons where you are .. they are big in Chicago, and
from what I hear .. to absolutely *die* for:}>>
***<br>
Scene: Transporter Room<br>
MD: 10.1700<br>
Krysa stepped into the Transporter room sporting a swirling new hairdo,
with ringlets running down the side of her face and on her forehead in a
playful array. She had also changed out of her uniform and into a more
dressy civilian style. Meleah was waiting for her and raised an inquisitive
look at her.
"You have changed your hair?" she asked, "Did you not like the old style?"
"Of course, I did." Krysa told her. "But I can't truly get into a day of
shoping with that severe Starfleet do."
"You can't?"
Krysa smiled. "Don't worry, Lt. We'll have you loosened up in no time. Just
leave yourself in my hands."
Regards,<br>
Lt. Krysa Jenn<br>
***<br>
NRPG: Are you ready, Melanie :} Feel free to have fun! We have all night to
paint Epsilon red ... Though I would suggest we avoid the wall .. :}:}
Krysa's not up for fight!
Kristen<br>
--<br>
Kristen & Scott Gant<br>
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/gant.htm<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Family</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Andrew Catterick 12-23-1996</h4>
SD: 81223.1000<br>
MD: 10.0830<br>
Scene: Visitor's Quarters<br>
[Come in.] The voice behind the door answered to the captain's
signal. "Good day captain. I take it we have arrived." Subcommander
Ross gestured towards the internal view of EPSILON through his window.
"Yes. I've just come to escort you and your party to the main
docking ring. SILVER fleet officials and assorted diplomats will meet you
there. I also wanted to return this you." He handed over the long thin
package.
"The dilithium sword." Ross said with out checking. "But this is
to be returned to your admiral. It was after all given to him."
"I know you will be meeting with him and felt you might wish to
return it yourself."
Ross said nothing.
"Starfleet intelligence has finished its investigation into your
background."
"I had assumed they would. Did they find anything of interest?"
"You were only an infant when your ship was lost, there was little
of interest to find, as far as intel was concerned. But they did find out
who you are and where you are from." Zane held out a PADD.
"Have my relations been told of my existence?" Ross asked
quietly.
"No, that is for you to do...or not do if that is your decision.
But I'm sure your family would like to know you are alive."
"My family does know I am alive." He continued after Zane's
confused look. "My family is on Issah."
"I meant your biological family."
"Biology means nothing to me. I have no need of them and I would
assume they have no need of me."
"I see."
Ross frowned, the diapproval clearly evident. "I had thought you
stronger captain."
"Meaning?"
"I know you are in the same predicament as me. I did not think
you to be so sentimental."
"I'm not sure I'm following." Zane's eyes flickered momentarily
to the window as in the background USS SAGAN slipped free of its berth
beginning its next mission to the cosmos."
Ross sat down in the chair beside him and gestured Zane to do the
same. "As I have told you before; we have been watching you for some time
and have developed many routes of information gathering. One of them
provided a profile of you. It seems you and I are very much alike. In
terms of our beginning at least."
Ross knew about his being found in a testtube on a derelict ship
the captain realized. "So you see," Ross continued, "neither of us know
who our 'real' families are. I do not care. Apparently you do not have
that strength. Sorry captain I must be blunt. It is how my parents
raised me."
Zane laughed. "Thats quite alright I do not view wanting to find
ones past as a weakness. We may be similar but we are different in many
respects. You are human, you know that. I don't know what I am. You
know where other humans live, if you want to find your family it is easily
done, in a few minutes you could be talking to them if you so desired.
All it would take is a quick communication to ops and then a subspace
signal. I can not. It is much easier to cast off the past when you know
what it is."
"Perhaps."
Zane wondered how Ross had discovered this information. He had
implied that Issahi intelligence gathering techniques had provided it.
That was doubtful. More likely a talkative crewmember who met the Issahi
delegation and noted the similarity between Ross and Zane. Still he
couldn't take any chances he'd have to notify SILVER intel. So much for
an early start to shoreleave. He now faced and afternoon of filling out
reports. Good thing his meeting with the admiral was a few days away.
"Well." The captain said as he rose. "I'm afraid if we don't
leave now you and your delegation will be late in meeting the Federation
diplomat representatives." He gestured to the door with a smile. "Shall
we."
Respectfully,<br>
Andy<br>
-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Shopping</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 12-23-1996</h4>
Stardate: 81223.1419<br>
Scene: Epsilon<br>
MD: 10.1800<br>
"Krysa, do the staff of the FEYNMAN give each other presents?"
"To be honest, I don't know, Meleah. I only joined the FEYNMAN just after
Christmas last year. I was able to spend Christmas on Earth with my family
before I was assigned my orders on the FEYNMAN." Krysa told her. "Though
only one of the senior officers is even Human. Though being born and raised
on Earth, I must admit to feeling pretty Terran most of the time."
"Your family celebrated Christmas?"
"Oh, yes." Krysa grinned, "Though my father didn't see the point. However,
my mother said that any holiday which supports peace and goodwill to men,
should be celebrated, no matter what anyone's background. And it is such a
festive, fun holiday."
"In that case, perhaps we should give the others a suitable gift."
"Like what?" Krysa couldn't think of anything at the moment that would be
suitable for some of the officers.
Meleah thought for a few seconds. "I do not know," she admitted.
"Perhaps we should think a little further on the subject. What do you
think the Captain would like?"
Krysa was caught slightly off-guard with the innocent question. "I'm..
I'm not sure," she managed to say before recovering herself.
"I'm sure we will think of something," Meleah said confidently as she
wandered over towards where a Ferengi trader was proudly boasting of his
wares.
Krysa shrugged, she couldn't think of a single reason why they shouldn't.
Besides even though shopping for oneself was extremely rewarding, shopping
for someone else was even more so.
They had a grand time sorting through various artifacts and giving the
Ferengi a hard time about his prices. The term 'pre-Christmas Sales' it
appeared was not in his vocabulary.
Lt. Koreth was by far the easiest to find something for. It was Meleah who
spotted the ceremonial dagger and questioned the merchant about it. When
Krysa looked over she too was surprised as the inscription was written in
ancient Betazoid of all things. Now the Betazoid people not being a
normally violent people, were not known for their weaponry. The Ferengi
touted it as being an extremely important piece, bearing a spiritual
blessing of good luck and long life. Krysa laughed at the idea, but knowing
Koreth's propensity toward Betazed food and most any kind of weaponry,
decided that this was a perfect gift for the half-Klingon.
Finding something for Allard turned out to not be very difficult either as
the two entered a costume shop and saw it on a mannequin standing in the
back of the shop. They two women looked at each other and nodded. The
merchant carefully folded and boxed the Green and beige Army fatigues,
carefully placing the bright red beret right on top. Krysa thought the
beret would look especially stunning on the CSO's rather shocking short
white, blonde head.
In an old bookstore, Krysa came across on old text which she thought
suitable for the bespectacled Dr. Glin'kharr. Meleah nodded her agreement
as they purchased 'The Doctor's book of Home Remedies' circa 1980's Earth.
The FCO was a bit more difficult in that he kept so much to himself. But
Meleah suggested perhaps a book on the history of flying. Krysa nodded and
they began to scan the books. Teri knew so much about flying, that it was
difficult to find something that he was unlikely to have already read. A
odd shaped book caught her eye. She picked it up and laughed, "Meleah, do
you think he's studied this?"
Meleah looked at the title of the Book, "I think that is highly unlikely."
With that it was decided that 'How Pakleds made it into Space' was
definitely the book for their well-read Lt. Jerran.
"Well that leaves our two senior officers and our newest crewmember." Krysa
said. "I admit, I'm at a bit of a loss there. But do you know what might
help me?"
"What is that?" Meleah asked.
"Something sinfully fattening," Krysa grinned and pulled Meleah toward the
closest ice cream parlor.
Regards,<br>
Lt. Krysa Jenn<br>
***<br>
NRPG: Okay I admit it. I wimped out! But I'm really out of idea .. Melanie,
if you have any feel free to fill in the last three. Hope I did okay for
the others :}
Well, I am off to pack and then I'm outa here til Thursday. Not much of a
vacation but it'll do :}
Merry Christmas!<br>
Kristen<br>
--<br>
Kristen & Scott Gant<br>
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/gant.htm<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Orders, Maril's Evaluation & Thoughts</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Max Felsher 12-25-1996</h4>
SD 81225.2300<br>
It was making a terrible discord... if as the Feynman slid into the Starbase Epsilon dock.
He would no longer be subject to the pressures of the mission, at least for a while. Of course, he was always glad to be back out in the unknown, but sometimes a break was called for.
"Well, we're home," the Captain said. As he headed into his Ready Room, he nodded to Maril.
"Alright, we're just manning Security, Ops, and the Conn while we're docked," Maril began. "The Captain has granted shore leave for the entire crew. You know the rules--no fights, no inappropriate behavior. I don't think that will be a problem with this crew, but I can assure you that, if you do anything like that, you will be dealt with faster than Exelin swung his sword." The crew smiled at the metaphor, and Maril continued. "Finish anything that needs to be done, and then you are dismissed."
At those words, the Bridge returned to the usual noises and chatter, with most of the officers leaving over time.
MD 10.1800<br>
Lt. Commander Maril's Quarters<br>
Maril ran his finger along the long edge of his bat'leth. He was not very proficient in its use, but he could fight with it, and that was all he wanted. He had been beaten in hand-to-hand combat in crucial situations before, and so he had started learning how to use the Klingon weapon.
Running his finger along it reminded him that he needed a better one. This one was replicated and was capable, but Maril knew, even with his small knowledge of hand-to-hand weapons, that the quality of replicated weapons was not exactly the best. Of course, he had used a replicated straight Terran-like sword that had been quite masterful--but of course it had been aided by the holodeck, since it was on a holodeck grid. That program had been a good one, and it had not been finished--perhaps he would go back to the program while they were still docked.
At any rate, those things could wait. He would be traveling around Epsilon tomorrow, and, if he saw a good bat'leth, he could get it. He also wanted to see if anyone else would be interested in going back to that program before he set it up again.
"Computer, play 'Kisa and Jibem at Imphero' by Resta Bermel, as fast as Asala's winds in winter...excuse me, 160 beats per minute."
<There is no such file in the Feynman database.>
"Search the Starbase's database."
<There is no such file in the Starbase Epsilon database.>
Maril shrugged. He would have to get some Tamarian music to put into the database. However, he still wanted to listen to something. He remembered having studied some Terran composers quite a while ago. He had liked one from Earth's nineteenth century called Chopin, in particular. He could not seem to remember the names of many of his pieces, however. Oh, well, he would just have to listen to the one he remembered.
"Computer, play 'Scherzo in C Sharp Minor' by Frederic Chopin, original speed."
Maril sat back and listened as the music played, and he remembered an incident from his youth. He had been trying to play a long Tamarian instrument called an Isker's Voice, and it was making a terrible racket....
MD 11.1600<br>
Bridge<br>
Maril finished explaining to Lt. Koreth what had happened for the previous shift--which was basically nothing--and then hurried to the aft turbolift.
"Counselor's Office." Maril sighed as the turbolift sped to its destination. His evaluation was finally upon him.
MD 11.1605<br>
Counselor's Office<br>
The doors slid open to reveal Ensign Landers sitting in a chair, reviewing a PADD. He immediately stood up and gestured towards another chair facing it. "Have a seat, Commander."
Maril sat down in the chair, and Landers then sat in his. Maril wondered what Landers was planning to ask.
The sun has met the sea,<br>
Lt. Commander Onta Maril,<br>
First Officer, USS Feynman,<br>
aka Max Felsher<br>
NRPG:
Sort of an all-encompassing post, to try to bring Maril up to speed.<br>
And made forward erly for to ryse,<br>
To take our wey, ther as I yow devyse.<br>
But natheles, whyl I have tyme and space,<br>
Er that I ferther in this tale pace.<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">SB EPSILON Silver Tinsel Strands</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Mike Dawe 12-25-1996</h4>
SD: 81225
He felt like Scrooge but the shifts had to be worked. Fortunately
the station had enough people of other races and religions that nobody who
wanted to observe the season would be forced to work . . . except for one.
He sat at a large desk and continued to compile reports and logs, briefings
and debriefings, proposals and results, into that conglomeration of data
known as a Year End Report. The Vice Admiral was not in a good mood.
"Hrrrmf, no rest for the wicked then. Who's first?" It was the
Andromeda. He knew he would owe Lars bigtime before the mission was over.
Setting the Flagship on a towing assignment was like having a Galaxy class
haul garbage. But the flag had to be waved and he needed a steady hand if
Upshaw was in the neighbourhood. Latest reports had denezins of the nebula
already making their presense felt and the Andromeda had met with some
resistence already. He hoped that was an isolated incident and not a
precursor to what was ahead.
Then came the Bismark. "I still don't like poaching in my fleet."
He was sure that the CO of the Bismark was as ticked as could be, in her own
way. Not that a Vulcan would show it. But he knew she would work around it
and make the ship operate if he sent cadets and 'Wesleys'. "Due in any day
now, I'll probably hear all about it when she gets here." At least he
might be able to replace her CMO in short order. There was one due in soon
and he hoped that this addition would temper the loss.
"EB? Why can't these ships have nice short monosyllabic names?"
The ship had just left on a mission of rescue and mercy but Azariah still
thought there was something fishy about it. He couldn't put his finger on
it, just that the set-up felt like something was missing, a piece of the
puzzle dragged off by the cat.
Cats. He sighed. Thinking of cats made him think of Cait and the
fiasco ongoing down below. Fife and Canon of the Regent had done the best
job of confirming that something was going on but then they hadn't gone
down. Everybody that he sent down seemed to vanish. This was not like the
peacefull Caitians nor was the referendum now going to vote in less than a
month. If it passed the Federation presence could be asked to leave the
station. This would mean a relocation of a major base, something the Vice
Admiral did not relish. When his political analysts told him it was a
distinct possibility he had despaired at the options available to him. He
could disband Silver, something that the Fleet Command had been threatening
since the destruction of the AWAD facility. But he was too old and attached
to this command to let that happen without a fight.
The second option was only marginally better than the first. He
could relocate to Zinderneuf and not split the Silver command. But that
would mean working closely with Upshaw, a fate he did not want to tempt. So
that left the third and final option. Find a new base facility for a
starfleet presence in this sector.
Beta had been closed down when Gold Fleet lost funding but it would
put them quite a distance from where the 'action' was. He wanted to be
closer to the 'edge'. That is why he had ordered the sudden reactivation of
Theta-6. It had meant reactivating Admiral Jeremiah Barnum for it but the
growling he had done had been worth the price of admission already. "Growls
more than those fuzzballs he calls dogs do." Azariah was jealous that he
could not pursue his hobbies as easily as it seemed to come to others. He
had to settle with his aroma collection and reading the trade journals of
his other love. "Problem is whether there will be anything left of Theta
for us to move into." And so the Saratoga was on its way to find out. Not
even the CO knew why the base was being evaluated for reactivation after all
this time, just that it was the mission of the day. He had to keep this
under tight wraps or that 'Daddies little boy' might drop a note home and
somehow screw up the works before the plan was even implimented. Having
tread on a few toes Azariah knew how easily the favour could be returned.
Endeavour. Now that ship had gone through some major staffing
changes but it looked like it was beginning to settle down into a cohesive
unit if their performance hear on the base was any indicator. Azariah was
not stupid and the loss of the logs for a specific security timeframe
preceding the exit of the Endeavour spoke volumes without saying a word. He
had made some discreet inquiries and a few threats to put the story together
before smiling and erasng his own notes. Now if they managed this little
coup of retreiving a CMO who was undercover deep in a foreign conference
then his confidence level would be as high as it could go and he would again
note the ship as one of his diplomatic elite forces.
Next came the Feynman. He smiled as he thought of the last time he
had been aboard that ship. perhaps he should attend another one of its
briefings if only to get some exercise. He wondered who would be making up
the next setting for their briefing. The Feynman was in dock and he fought
a temptation to duck out and add his own brand of holodeck programming to
their mix.
The Vice Admiral had been in charge of programming the psych
evaluations for the academy. From there he had moved on to the ALB where he
would put the new graduates through the final wringer. He itched to make
someone jump and have the holodeck his own personal kingdon once again.
Azariah shook his head, there was the road to areas of his past he preferred
left buried. But the return of Cardiff on the Saratoga, Upshaw on the
Andromeda, and Hisstare hanging about were ghosts of that past that would
not stay buried.
Again the shaggy head of grey shook and he tried to focus on his
work one more time. He had to get this done soon before McDaniels showed
up. That Doctor could convince the devil to pray. Azariah looked across
the room at the pile of clothes in the corner and snorted. "I don't know
how I get roped into these things."
Hawking. Now that one was a mystery. Since the change in command
little had been heard from her. He made a mental note to touch base with
her soon and find out if all was on the up and up. He refused to have
another ship vanish into the night.
Pearson. Just returned from a failed diplomatic trip to Arcturus.
At least it was failed form the viewpoint of most participants. But not by
Starfleet diplomatic corps. Azariah had not approved of the orders but was
not able to pull enough strings to stop them. It was bad faith to pretend
to open negotiations with no expectation of their being completed. Arcturus
was isolated and struggling to heal, th last thing it needed was false
friends. But that is what Fleet had ordered and that is what Arcturus got.
Azariah made a mental note to keep an eye on the beleagured little planet.
He owed it to the former CINCWHITE, to the Pearson, and to his own conscience.
Then came the Regent. Admiral Nicholas smiled softly. He and Fife
had been at odds right from the start and it did not look like it would end
anytime soon. But that was as it should be, the Captain had been booted up
the ranks far too fast and needed some sort of reality check. As this was
passing through the Admiral mind his own personal reality check arrived.
The Selay glided across the room and read over the Vice Admirals shoulder.
"hI ssssee hyou hare ssstill working hupon the hYear hEnder."
"Stop hissing in my ear you ambulatory suitcase. I'm almost done."
A meaty hand brushed behind him waving the Academician back.
"The Regent ssshould be heassssy to write for. hA mad sssceme that
ssshouldn't work performed in a combat zone with a madcap group flying cover
for han huntesssted new ssship. hWhat could possssibly go wrong?"
"Well when you put it like that it seems so much easier, doesn't
it?" Azariah glared at the Selay and tapped his PADD fitfully.
"hI call them asss hI sssee them." A scaled hand held up in a
gesture of defence or protest. "But hyou don't sssee it that hway, do hyou?"
"No, I think they have the mission that that ship and crew deserve.
They always seem to fall into the manure and come out riding the pony. Far
be it from me to give them a cake walk, they wouldn't know what to do with it."
"hAs hyou sssay. But they are hadapted to that sssort hof missssion
for a reassson."
"Because I need a ship that can do it quick and dirty. Now shut up,
I have official lies to write."
"hNot hright now. hIt his time." Hisstare held up the red jacket
and tossed the pants across the desk.
"Hrrmf, I still don't believe I am doing this." Azariah fastened
the beard on with the supplied glue and adjusted the small mirror on is desk
to admire his handywork. "Pass me the cushion."
"hIf hyou keep avoiding hour exercissse next year hyou won't need hone."
"Shut up." This came from a slightly jolly old soul in reds that
were the one kind you could beam down in and be sure of coming back. "If it
were not for the fact that this was for the childrens ward . . . "
"hYou'd ssstill do hit. Don't try to play the meanie hwith me. hI
have been here from the firssst."
'If I could figure out a way to make you an elf you'd be along for
this ride. Azariah to transporter room five. Engage program Santa 1." And
the Selay heard, as the Admiral vanished into the lights a swirling. "Happy
Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
The room was silent for a moment then with a hiss the Selay let
himself out. As he stood silhouetted in the doorway he whispered. "God
blessss ussss, heveryone." The door irised shut leaving the room lit only
by the starlight spilling in through the windows that covered the walls.
<<<nrpg>>>
I wish to extend to all my ships and their crew the best of the season(s).
You are an extended family to me even if you seldom hear from me other than
now. Think of this as the card you get once a year from the cousin whose
face you can barely remember. Your CO's and FO's are more familiar with me
(although they probably won't admit it in public)
The above was a quick snapshot of the SILVER fleet. Apologies to those on
multiple lists who got this several times. If something here intersts you
and you want to find out what is going on on other ships ask and I will
forward your requests to the appropriate CO and ship.
Warning: If you reply to this be sure to reply to just me, no sense in
sending this to all the fleet just to say what a complete dolt I am for the
numerous typos I am sure abound above.
Again: My best to you and yours.
mike--->having just finished wrapping the last present, bed for a few hours
before the daughter proves roosters are way to slow on the draw.
Vice Admiral Azariah Nicholas CINCSILVER<br>
Captain Christof Fife USS REGENT<br>
GM USS SARATOGA<br>
Lt. Cmdr Eskat Eskat USS HERMES<br>
Lt James Cardiff USS SARATOGA<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Quiet Thoughts</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Andrew Catterick 12-26-1996</h4>
SD: 81226.0930<br>
MD: 8.1600<br>
Scene: Captain's Quarters<br>
Zane leaned back into his highback chair and stared out the large
bay window which encompassed most of his quarters. With the Issahi
delegation safely, and truth be known, thankfully, deposited into the laps
of SILVER's diplomatic corp he had retired to his office to finish off
the standard post-mission reports as well as informing intel of a possible
security breach that the Issahi had tapped. But as often was the case
when the FEYNMAN was in port he found himself staring out the window much
more than staring at his computer screen.
For someone who had been in Starfleet for a number of years,
indeed someone who had been born on a Starfleet vessel and collectively
raised by her crew most would think the sight of a starship would be
second nature, something in the background. But not for Zane. To
him a spaceship was a thing of beauty. He liked nothing better than to
quietly sit, the lights dimmed, and just watch them. Tracing their lines,
day dreaming about their missions, feeling that surge of excitement as
impulse engines glowed to life and the ship proudly left its protective
confines to see 'what was out there'. It was a long held tradition in
the navy to think of one's ship as an entity, something that lived and
protected you. Zane *knew* it wasn't merely tradition it was reality.
Absent mindedly his hand stroked the wall beside him. "Good girl." He
whispered.
<<Ship time is 16:15>> The computer suddenly stated in its
neutral voice. For a moment Zane thought the ship had answered him but
the fantasy quickly dissolved away in to the mundane remberence that he
had set an alarm. A frown crossed his face. He was not looking forward
to his private counselling session with the new CNS. He wondered idly as
to the possibilites of a red alert while in space-dock. Briefly scanning
his notes on the computer to make sure he had not left off in the middle
of some brilliant thought he punched the save key. Actually, despite all
the day-dreaming, he had completed a fair amount of work. The mission
report was complete and he had read those filed by his officers. He had
scheduled an appointment with the admiral's office for two days from now.
And he had even spent an hour arguing with an operations lieutenant over
the fate of his crew on the Husnock vessel. He had managed to find out
that the rescue mission was complete and that the Husnock ship was
speeding towards EPSILON, its crew safe and sound. But even with his
security clearance he was unable to find out anything about the TESLA or
her crew. Such secrecy probably meant there were few if any survivors.
<<Ship time is 16:16>> The computer said as if smugly reminding
him of his upcoming session in purgatory.
"Acknowledged." He replied as he stood and turned for the door.
<<<NRPG>>>
Okay Kevin take it away. As I said before, Zane has the greatest respect
for a CNS and his/her duties aboard a starship but he himself is not big
on the psycho-analytical 'stuff' when used on *him*. He won't be hostile
or anything like that...just, well not exactly on his list of fun things
to do. Have fun I'm looking forward to reading it!
Respectfully,<br>
Andy<br>
-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Allard's Evaluation</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Michael "Mike" Dailey 12-27-1996</h4>
Stardate: 81227.1730<br>
Scene: Holodeck 1<br>
MD: 9.0715<br>
<I>
J.C. stepped into the Holodeck. The familiar yellow and black grid was
present as was the counselor.
"Good, Lt. Allard. You made it and on time. I personally thought I was
going to be late."</I><br>
J.C. did a mental double-take at the CNS comment, barely being on-time
himself. He knew he was going to dread this meeting, for most Doctors
made the CSO feel quite uncomfortable, especially 'head-doctors' as J.C.
so often termed them.
<I>
Allard noticed that the counselor's blond hair was sort of mussed up and
his uniform was slightly crumpled. Obviously the new counselor wasn't a
morning person either.
"I figured we could kill two birds with one stone," said Loren as he
tossed Allard a Phaser. "I knew I'd have to qualify with one of these
things before long."</I><br>
J.C. reached out and caught the flying MARK-V Phaser in mid-air,
silently cursing himself for not grabbing his personal sidearm before
leaving his quarters. Turning slowly to the new CNS, J.C. looked as
though he would tear the head off of Landers, but deep down, was using
the anger to hide the fear that enveloped him at the thought of someone
inside his mind.
<I>
Allard's expression went from a somewhat blank stare to one of slight
anger. "Counselor, have you been reading my thoughts?" he barked with a
noticeable edge in his voice, perhaps sounding more angry than he should have.
</I><br>
Being esper-blind, the Counselors and Doctors at the Academy had a field
day putting J.C. through series after grueling series of tests, which
determined his psi-rating to be zero. They had said he was 'not unlike a
radio that could neither transmit nor receive.'
Still, the idea of someone inside his head, mind-melds and the like
terrified the young officer.
<I>
"Lt., I assure you that I have not." Now there was an edge in Loren's
voice as he stared intently at the CSO, his large dark Betazoid eyes
seeming ready to swallow the CSO. Even though he could not read anything
mentally from J.C., simple body language showed how defensive Allard had
become.
"Reading another's thoughts against their will is a repugnant idea to me.
Ship's protocol would dictate that I would have to qualify with one of
these. I just kept receiving the 'impression' that you were very
anxious to get it over with. Besides, I really need to get requalified
with a phaser again," Loren finally added as a smile spread across his face.
</I><br>
"Sorry counselor, but I had to ask." said J.C., sounding less
defensive than a moment ago, making both feel more at ease. Staring at
Loren, J.C. wondered about the true extent of the counselor's abilities.
He sounded sincere and truthful, and besides, at this point Landers
would gain nothing from deceiving him.
<I>
"Not a problem Lt. Would you care to step up on the platform."
Allard stepped up on the firing platform next to Ens. Landers and readied
his Phaser. A few beeps later, it was ready as was he.
"Computer begin standard Phaser qualification test. Two participants, and record for Ens. Loren Landers," said the CSO.
Loren and Allard stood back to back on the platform as holographic discs
began flying across the room. Loren began nailing the blue discs as Allard
annihilated the red ones.
</I><br>
"Mr. Landers," said J.C. "I was impressed with the way you and Mr.
T'Boc used your abilities to help us down on the Reaver Base." The
sudden thought of the Reavers sent another fear-driven chill down J.C.'s
spine. He would rather face a squad of Borg than one Reaver. Glancing at
Loren, J.C. tried to judge the CNS's response.
"Lieutenant, I try to use my 'abilities' so help in anyway I can.
After all, that's the idea of being a counselor, isn't it?" said Landers. *Touche,
Allard, J.C. thought, This guy IS good.*
"Sir, I do like to relax. You can call me Loren if you prefer," said
Landers. J.C. glances at the young and handsome CNS. *Come on, be
friends with the guy. Remember how you felt when your were posted to the
FEYNMAN, for what seemed a lifetime ago was a mere six months.* True,
protocol while not entirely lax, was not strict by-the-book here on the
FEYNMAN either.
"Very well, Loren." said J.C. He waited, deciding whether or not to
extend the same courtesy Loren had. J.C. taking careful aim for the next
round, J.C. decided to wait and get to know the green Ensign a little
better.<br>
<I>
The two men had progressed to level two when Loren spoke. "Lt., I've
never really had a family or any who has really cared about me. How does
it feel to have lost a loved one, someone like your wife for instance?"
</I><br>
Justin squeezed his phaser grip harder so as not to drop it on the
Holodeck floor. *This guy is full of surprises,* though J.C. Whirling
around yet again to face the CNS, J.C. glared at the him,
"ENSIGN, I...". J.C. started, but changed his tone. He hadn't really
talked to anyone after Wendy, his wife of three months, had died in a
ground car accident. Immediately after, he applied to Starfleet, and
from then on had been to busy.
"Loren, I apologize for my temper. It's just I began thinking about
Wendy, my mom, and my grandmother all at once. I guess all of the Allard
women in my family are, in some way, gone from my life." said the CSO.
Loren holstered his sidearm, and looked into J.C.'s deep blue eyes. He
recalled reading J.C. service record, about the terrible death of his
wife, the separation of his parents, and his Grandmother being stationed
on one of Starfleet's most remote bases.
"I really feel alone sometimes. I mean, I still write and talk to my
friends, my grandparents, and my brothers and Father back on Earth.
But..." J.C. stopped, unsure how to continue...
"Mr. Allard, remember, you're part ot the biggest family in the
Federation; Starfleet. We all have a special bond to one another, not
only through duty, but through the respect and care we have for each
other." said Loren. Thinking back to the fun and, bit of trouble J.C.
and his fellow Cadets had at Starfleet Academy, brought a smile to the
CSO's face.
Grabbing his sidearm, J.C. turned to face the test area, "ready to
finish, Loren?" asked J.C. The CNS stood, removing his own MARK-V from
his holster.
"Yes, Sir." replied Loren. J.C. regarded Loren for a moment. Standing
stiff, his best mocking impression of an Academy drill instructor, J.C.
barked a firm order, or at least tried to...
"While we're off duty, that's J.C. to you, MR!", then relaxed and broke
into a smile.
"By the way," said J.C. "I haven't had time to review your record yet.
What was your best academy score," asked J.C. While regulations required
a level-6 score or better to qualify, J.C.'s best had been an 8.5.
Lieutenant Meleah, of course, held the FEYNMAN's and Starfleet's top
score of level 12, a mere coincidence that the training program only
contained 12 levels.
"Not as good as I would have liked." said Loren. "I can never seem to
get past a level-9 score." J.C. winced slightly, and could have swore he
seen Loren wink at him...
J.C. took aim, determined to get a level-10.
Submitted,<br>
Mike Dailey<br>
Splatter2@qtm.net<br>
Lieutenant J.G., J.C. Allard SEC-TAC - USS FEYNMAN - SILVER FLEET<br>
Lieutenant D'doj Zzawj Ckorji MD OPS/2O USS ELIZABETH BLACKWELL SILVER FLEET<br>
Lieutenant Commander [Retired] Jordon Kabreigny - UNASSIGNED GREEN FLEET<br>
=======<br>
= NRPG  =<br>
=======<br>
Hello all. Kevin, work in anything you want to. This isn't my best
work, but I'm kinda pressed for time and didn't want to be the last to
finish his little meeting.
Since the 'girls' are going shopping, perhaps you would like to join
J.C. at the 'wall' on EPSILON. It's a nice, quiet place, relaxing
atmosphere. I'm sure we could have a little 'fun'. You too, Jason -
Tarrant is invited also.
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: The Walk</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Andrew Catterick 12-28-1996</h4>
Stardate: 81228.0930<br>
Scene: CNS's Office<br>
MD: 8.1616<br>
<I>
The door chime rang again as it had many times already the past few
days. "Come." Loren already knew who it was and had been expecting him,
but not without a fight. Loren hadn't heard of many CO's coming to a
counselor's session without persistant reminders by the counselor.
Captain Zane of the USS FEYNMAN walked slowly into the room. Glancing
around he noticed the sparseness of the room's decor. "Not much on
decorum are we counselor."
"Not much on having any possessions since the Reavers blew up my d-warp
shuttle, Captain."
"I see."</I><br>
"Well we'll be in port for at least 48 hours so you should have
ample time to do a little shopping. Actually with your possessions being
destroyed during 'the pursuit of your duty' you should stop by the QM's
office on EPSILON. Have you ever met our Quarter-Master, Commander
Branno?"
"No sir, I'm afraid I didn't really have time to meet anyone on
the base."
"Thats too bad, Commander Branno is quite a character. Just
make up a list of what you need and I'm sure she'll take care of you
right away." Zane smiled pleasantly trying his best to block out any
thoughts of the *real* Commander Branno. If the CNS could drop him in
rollerblades as a learning experience then he could certainly return the
favour. Besides, Loren was one of the crew now and that meant he was fair
game for the occaisional joke.
For his part, Loren looked somewhat suspiciously at his new CO.
He sounded sincere but he had thought he had noted a whiff of revenge.
<I>
"I would offer you a seat Captain, but I'd hoped you would be willing to
take a walk with me first."
<<<SNIP>>>
On deck 14, Zane finally decided to break the silence.
"You being very quiet for a counselor, ensign."
"Yes, sir, I know. I generally prefer for people to tell me what's on
their mind. I find that listening rather than me running my mouth
asking lots of questions is better for some. In short my tactics adjust
for whomever I'm dealing with at the moment."
"And so for me, your tactics call for a walk through my ship, where you
simply stand quietly and listen. That's it?"
"Actually, sir, my tactics call for me to listen...and for you to talk.
We've been kinda short on the latter for a while now."</I><br>
"True." Zane replied wondering what there was to talk about. He
certainly wasn't going to be bringing up any innermost thoughts, at least
voluntarily, especially out on the deckway. He had also decided to do
both him and the CNS a favour by not dwelling on either's career. They
had both read each other's bio. "Well then I'm on R&R right now so what
do you say to a drink in 10-Forward?"
Loren smiled. "It sounds...relaxing." He turned to move towards
the turbolift.
"Uh ensign..." Zane jabbed a thumb towards a nearby access
hatch. "Its only four decks."
_______________<br>
Scene: 10-Forward<br>
The two men sat at a table enjoying a cool drink. Before the
silence could get a firm grasp Loren broke it. "I've noticed that you
spend alot of time in 10-Forward. Is that your usual habit?"
"I've never really thought of it. But yes I guess it is. I eat
most of my meals here and I try to spend some of my offtime here, actually
I occasionally even write reports over by the main window."
"Why is that?"
"Well why not?"
"No reason, its just some captains prefer to remain at a certain
distance from their crew. But one thing I've noticed is that you don't.
Your the captain but your also one of the crew...if that makes any sense?"
"It does because thats the way it is. Its not that I try to be
that, that I ever made a conscious decision. It just developed that way.
I am very comfortable with those aboard and I hope they feel the same."
"But some would say that for a military vessel to function
optimally there has to be a certain detachment, a certain feel of
protocol."
"Well that is true, and after some more time here you'll see that
we do have that decorom, that protocol. To a degree. But...well I look
at it this way, I am no better than anyone on this ship. Everyone has
their own strengths and their own weakness and they all balance out. We
all have a job to do and the FEYNMAN could not function as well as it does
if any one of those parts was not there. Whether it be the CEO, the
crewman in disposal or the captain. So why remove myself from anyone, put
myself in the ivory tower? I'm very proud of everyone on this ship and I
thank the gods they are here. And when you have that sort of a feeling
with your crew it is only natural that you think of them as friends. Its
important for me that they know I am approachable that we are all an eual
team regardless of position."
<<<NRPG>>>
Not the direction I had orginally planned it just kinda wrote itself.
Haven't decided if I necessarily like it but I'm off to work.
Kevin:Feel free to continue, or delve deeper. As for the QM, Zane has had
several run-ins with her over destroyed shuttle craft. She does not like
to part with anything as she sees all SILVER equipment/vessels as her own
personal property. She thinks Zane keeps losing shuttles through
negligence but she can't prove it...consequently she hates him. Did I
mention Zane and Bat stole a shuttle from her? I won't even mention what
Jerran did.;)
Respectfully,<br>
Andy<br>
-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Maril's Evaluation</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Max Felsher 12-28-1996</h4>
SD: 81228
"What prompted you to join up with us rather than continuing to serve your
people?"
Maril was taken aback by this question. Others had questioned his ability,
his drive, and his leadership qualities, but, after he had made the decision, no
one had asked him why. Still, he had had a reason.
He took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm not quite sure. I am still a Tamarian
at heart...."
"I don't think anything could change that," Loren commented.
"...and I still think of Tamarians as my people. While Earth is an interesting
planet--I lived there for six years--Motuxi is still my home; my family and
everything I knew before I went to the English Language School and Starfleet
Academy is there. I think that most of the members of the Federation and the
Tamarians share a similar exploratory spirit...."
"Yes....'
"...but I think perhaps I came to the Federation because here not only could I
explore planets and nebulae and warp physics--I could do all of that on a
Tamarian ship--but I could also explore those outside the Tamarian civilization
while working alongside them. Of course, on a Tamarian ship, I could visit
Starfleet ships and talk to those aboard. However, it would not have been the
same as being on the ship, working with Federation officers--and being one of
them. And I have learned quite a bit," Maril smiled at the last remark. "So, I
suppose I did it because I wish to explore, and this gives me the opportunity
even when I am just walking in the corridors."
Landers nodded thoughtfully. "But why Starfleet...why not the Klingons or
the Cardassians, if you wanted to explore?
"I think the answer is obvious, Ensign. Not only is the Federation probably
closest in philosophies to the Tamarians--I wouldn't be able to work with
Cardassians, or Klingons, as well, I think--but the variety is much greater. On a
Klingon ship, I doubt you have many non-Klingons. On the Feynman, we must
have tens, if not hundreds, of different species aboard. Just look at the senior
officers. You have one human, two Betazoids, a half-human/half-Klingon, a
half-Bajoran/half-Vulcan, one android, one Kar'llian, one Tamarian, and one
officer of unkown species. That variety can not be found with any other
institution."
MD 11.1630<br>
Gymnasium<br>
"Of course. I would like to get the exercise. I have had few real opponents,
and I would enjoy seeing where I stand."
"Very well, then, sir. Let us begin."
With that, Landers stepped back and held the bat'leth in a defensive position.
"SuH?" he uttered.
"SuH!" Maril replied back, pulling back into a slightly different position.
As the two circled around each other, Maril did not notice the walls of the
gymnasium any more. Soon, the mats and any other officers disappeared as
well. It was only Landers and he, turning themselves around to catch an
apparent weakness in the other.
"Miraven at Sigal!" Maril cried as he stepped towards Landers and brought
the weapon towards him with a cut to the left.
Landers blocked the slash with skill--and the inner curve of his bat'leth--and
brought the lower end up towards Maril's chin, under Maril's own bat'leth!
Maril was trapped--if he did not move, Landers would hit him in the chin, or
knock his bat'leth away; if he did, he would actually bring Landers's own
weapon closer to his chin.
Maril settled on Choice 3--the unexpected move. He ducked back from
Landers's bat'leth, at the same time letting go of his own with his left hand and
regripping in the middle with his right. He then quickly pulled the weapon
away, leaving Landers with a bunch of air to hit and in a more vulnerable
position to Maril's attack.
That attack came in the form of a cut from over the top. Landers quickly
moved the bat'leth to block, and he successfully stopped Maril's blow. He then
proceeded to make a sweeping cut towards Maril's midsection, catching Maril
off guard.
Maril, however, was quick enough to dodge out of the way of the weapon's
arc; and the two went back to attacking and blocking, back and forth, across
their unnoticed environment.
After they had continued this for a few moments, Maril saw his chance. He
shifted the bat'leth into his left hand and suddenly launched a sweeping cut to
Landers's feet.
Landers quickly jumped over the blade, but Maril regrabbed with his right hand
and readied for a quick stab.
The Counselor ducked out of the way, but just barely. Maril then deftly
brought the lower end of his bat'leth up to Landers's throat, poised to attack.
Landers sighed. "jIjegh"
Maril lowered the weapon and extended his hand. "Thank you, Ensign."
Landers smiled. "No, thank you, Commander."
The sun has met the sea,<br>
Lt. Commander Onta Maril,<br>
First Officer, USS Feymnan,<br>
aka Max Felsher<br>
NRPG:<br>
Well, I think that wraps it up for Maril's evaluation, unless you want to write
something else, Kevin.
I'm really sorry, but could everyone send me the rotation for your department for
the next mission? I seem to have lost the last information.
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: You Knew It Would Happen (AKA: The Brawl)</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 12-31-1996</h4>
Stardate: 81231.2033<br>
Scene: The Wall<br>
MD: 10.1900<br>
Krysa and Meleah approached the door to the 'Wall', and entered. After
adjusting to the light, Krysa spotted J.C. and Loren talking to some other
Starfleet officers.
Turning to Lt. Meleah, Krysa pointed them out, "Look, there they are." She
stopped as Meleah shoved her out of the path of a chair that flew right
towards them....
Catching her breath as her heart beat loudly in her chest, Krysa said, "I
hope our guys didn't start that."
"I wouldn't count on it," said a familiar voice behind her. The two women
spun to see Bat followed by three of the junior officers from the FEYNMAN.
Bat was grinning, "Now this is 'The Wall'!"
The aging bartender headed deeper into the bar. Krysa rolled her eyes,
"Bat!" she called. Meleah followed him and Krysa's eyes widened further,
"Meleah!" The bartender and the android continued walked, and Krysa turned
to the three men behind her. They all stood looking at each other.
"Damn!" said one, "There goes my next promotion!"
"I'd be more concerned about your life right now," Krysa murmured. Then
took a step back to avoid a man to sprawling on the floor in front of her.
"Why you ..!" the man growled and jumped up to rush the man who had caused
his fall.
With a big sigh, Krysa ducked further into the bar, sidestepping yet
another brawling pair. As she drew near to where the other FEYNMAN officers
were she spotted a very large man pounding on Lt. Allard's face. Moving
quickly, Krysa grabbed a nearby bar stool and swung. The man stopped for a
moment before falling over onto the floor.
Allard looked up a Krysa. He had an eye that was already beginning to
swell, "Thank you, Lt." he said with a crooked grin. Krysa frowned, "Just
tell me *you* didn't start this!"
"Of course not," Allard said. Then he yelled, "Duck!" Krysa didn't have to
be told twice as she quickly collapsed to the floor and JC jumped up and
grabbed a man with an ugly looking, broken bottle.
That woulda hurt, Krysa thought watching JC struggle with the attacker.
Crawling on her hands and knees on the sticky floor, Krysa moved under a
table searching out the other FEYNMAN officers.
Regards,<br>
Lt. Krysa Jenn<br>
***<br>
NRPG: Well, Krysa really hates fighting, but she does know how to wield a
bar stool! Well, there's my contribution to the mess. I'm thinking that
Zane is probably standing just outside the bar looking in in shock!! Hehe,
but Krysa didn't notice him, so I'll leave it to someone else too :}
Kristen<br>
--<br>
Kristen & Scott Gant<br>
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/gant.htm<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: A Welcome Diversion</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Andrew Catterick 12-31-1996</h4>
SD:81231.1800<br>
MD:10.1905<br>
Scene: Market Level<br>
Zane walked down the corridor of the market level engrossed in his
lucky find. He'd read the book countless times but the thrill of finding
a long sought treasure added a certain allure making the experience seem
like a new one. He was so engrossed in fact that as he walked past the
infamous Wall he failed to take note of the turmoil inside. Not even the
screams of flying patrons was enough to stir him from his reading. What
did prove to be successful however was the Starfleet officer who came
crashing through the large pane of glass that was the Wall's main window,
landing at his feet. Thankfully it was not a FEYNMAN crew member but the
body that crashed through the remaining glass seconds later was. "Chief!"
MCPO Larocque shook his head for a moment and then realized who
was kneeling over him. "There's a bunch of us in there...they're going to
need help." The captain's aide began to get to his feet helping the
officer beside him.
A jumble of emotions ran through Zane and he settled on the one
most appealing. He jerked a thumb towards the raging brawl and addressed
both. "We go in and we get Starfleet out...before the marines get here."
That wouldn't leave them much time.
As they charged into the fray Zane shouted at Mike. "Where are
they?"
"Back corner." Mike answered ducking in time to miss catching a
bottle in the face. Zane nodded and then charged into the melee. He made
it about five feet before running in to his first obstacle, an overly
large Nasican who was holding a Starfleet officer by the neck and shaking
him like a ragdoll. He grabbed a chair and smashed it over the Nacsican's
back. It was enough of a blow to make him drop the officer but little
else. He quickly spun around to face Zane who had just as quickly picked
up a leg from the broken chair. The captain struck first, smashing the
weapon into the Nascian's jaw and shattering it. In response the Nascian
picked up Zane and raised him over his head. With a scream of rage he
tossed Zane deeper into the brawl. As he came crashing down his one
consoling thought was that at least he was making progress.
Lying on his back on the beer soaked floor he now became the
victim of a variety of kicks and stomps by the patrons his flight had
rudely interrupted. Struggling to his feet, stunned by the blows he felt
someone grab him and call out his name. Soon a grinning face was staring
at his. "Bat?"
"Having fun Z? Duck!" As his reflexes followed the order Bat
struck out at the Orion who had had been planning on breaking yet another
chair over someone's head. Not expecting the punch he crumpled to the
floor. "C'mon! What are you lagging behind for the rest of us are over
here."
The two punched and lunged their way through the crowd to find a
small circle of FEYNMAN and Starfleet officers engaged with a variety of
lifeforms from across the galaxy. As they reached them the whistles of
approaching marines could be heard. Zane tried to shout to the group in
general but had a fist stuffed into his face for his trouble. He rammed
the chair leg into the stomach of his attacker who bent over from the
blow. A quick raised knee to the face left him unconscious on the floor.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched with admiration as Meleah grabbed
two Klingons and smashed them together. The look of complete indifference
on her face triggered a laugh. He hadn't had this much fun since he was a
lieutenant.
Grabbing the closest body to him he waded into the thick of the
fight.
<<<NRPG>>>
Just because Zane wants everyone out before the marines arrive doesn't
mean that is what will actually happen;) Maybe our next mission could be
escaping from the drunk-tank
Respectfully,<br>
Andy-->Not one to miss a good fight<br>
-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Oh, no! Not the Wall! (Second Try)</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Michael "Mike" Dailey 12-31-1996</h4>
Stardate: 81229.1408<br>
Scene: Epsilon<br>
MD: 10.1835<br>
Stepping out of the docking tube and onto Epsilon, the two FEYNMAN officers nodded to
the base security officer standing guard. More of a tradidion than necessity, ship 'in-port' were given an honor-guard by the Marines on-post. This one, however, seemed like he was due for a nap.
The CSO rolled hiseyes, and briefly contemplated the 'chewing-out' he would give the officer had he been under his command.
J.C. Allard and Loren Landers continued on through EPSILON to the lift that would take
them to the Market Level.
"It feels good to have some time away from the FEYNAMN," said J.C. They entered the
lift.
"I know." said Landers, "I've finally finished the Senior Staff meetings. I have to
admit, the FEYNMAN is a diverse bunch."
"Yeah, that would be one word for us," grinned the CSO. The lift deposited them onto
the Market Level of EPSILON, the area where one could find exotic shopes with practically any merchandise you could want, for a price of course. The many restaurants and cafe's emitted smells from the cuisenes of cultures throughout the Federation.
"This is my first time really exploring EPSILON," said J.C. "When I was first posted to
the FEYNAMN, I reported immediately."
"Same for me," said Loren. They passed the 'NaDev NuqDaq, a place not known for it's
service, but delicious Klingon cuisene. Pausing in front, Loren inhaled some aroma. J.C. could not place it, but it reminded the CSO of something stale and burning.
"How about a bite to eat, J.C.?". Allard grimmaced, never one for Klingon dishes.
"I don't know... there is a really good Italian place...." said J.C. trying to lure the
counselor into a more palatable meal.
"Come on. Try it." grudgingly, the J.C. gave it. Half hour later, both FEYNMAN officers
emerged.
"Well, that was good! I'm stuffed." said Loren. He looked over at his friend, who was a
bit pale and green at the same time.
"Yeah, Loren. I'm stuffed too! I need a drink". said J.C. "Let's go check out this
'Wall' place I've heard so much about."
"OK, J.C.," said Loren. They maneuvered the corridors, through various shops. Once,
making a wrong turn, a Ferengi trader set them back on the right way, eyeing the Starfleet officers
suspiciously. Both J.C. and Loren gave each other an 'I-don't-know' shrug.
Finally reaching the entrance of the 'Wall', the cargo-bay type door slid open at
their approach. Stepping in, J.C. noted how dark it was, and closed his eyes momentarily to help adjust. They found a table, and each got a drink from the actual 'wall'. While it was not busy this time of day, they were conscious of various pairs (and sets) of eyes on the only two uniformed officers in the place.
"Nice place, huh?" commented Loren.
"Yeah. Great atmosphere." Moments later, a welcome site of three Starfleet base officers
entered. Loren and J.C. nodded to the newcomers, who took a table on the other side of the bar.
"When I get back onboard I need to spend some time writing to my family in friends,
"said J.C. "I'm horrible when it comes to writing letters."
"You brothers and Father are all on Earth," asked Loren.
"Yeah. And then there's..." J.C. stopped quite suddenly, his mouth accidentally agape
from the last word. Staring at the doors. Loren turned to see what the CSO was looking at. Two more Starfleet Officers had entered, two Lieutenants, neither of which the counselor recognized. Clearly, however, J.C. did.
On making eye contact with the FEYNMAN CSO, the two sauntered over to their table,
"Well, well. Look what we have here, a couple of misfits." said one of them to his comrade. "They must be from the GREY fleet.!" and both burst out laughing.
"Have you been out of the Academy so long, Lt. JUNIOR GRADE Allard, that you forgot
protocol!". said the loud and obnoxious one. Slowly, J.C. stood, and motioned for Landers to do likewise. The newcomer making a point of him being a full Lieutenant, outranking both J.C. and Loren.
"Ensign Loren Landers, this is LIEUTENANT David Russo." Russo thumped J.C. on the back,
almost knocking
the CSO over.
"Yes, we're OLD friends." said Russo. Looking at Landers, Russo continued,"I was Allard's
FAVORITE upperclassmen. We had some good times at the ACADEMY!" He let out an evil-sounding
laugh, a laugh that brought back bits of his Academy life J.C. would have liked to forget. Sitting back down, Russo and his companion planted themselves, uninvited, in chairs at their table.
"Loren, what the LIEUTENANT means is that while we attended the Academy, Russo was in
charge of making
my life a living hell".
"Oh, you enjoyed it J.C." sneered Russo.
Nudging his companion, Russo snickered,"So I didn't know the GREY fleet had officers
here on EPSILON. Carter and I just got on leave from the BISMARK. So, what garbage ship are you two on.?" asked Russo. J.C. clenched his fists.
Loren spoke up, "Lieutenant J.G. Allard and myself are NOT in the GREY fleet. We're
stationed on the FEYNMAN." said Loren bluntly. It didn't take an empath to sense the emotional restraint J.C. was holding onto.
Carter growled, "Who asked you, Doctor!" Loren still being in his blue uniform.
"Ah, the FEYNMAN." said Russo, "that's the ship with the changling Captian."
"CAPTAIN ZANE is not a changeling!" shouted Loren, perhaps a bit too loud.
"Allard, seems your little friend here is quite the boisterous one!" said Russo. "No
matter, the likes of you will end up in GREY sooner or later." Russo and Carter burst out laughing , and again thumped J.C. on the back.
"Come on, Allard, cheer up! You have to have a sense of humor working on the
FUNNYMEN!..."
<I>
Krysa and Meleah stepped out of the sundae shop and continued on their way
down the marketplace. Krysa spotted a cute little accessories shop and was
about to point it out when Meleah spoke up, "I think that is our CSO over
there."
Krysa looked over and saw the unmistakable white blonde cropped hair of Lt.
Allard across the way from them. "I think you're right. Good eyes, Meleah!"
Meleah looked at her, "My eyes are functioning at optimum levels."
Krysa grinned, "That's what I said. He's not alone either. I do believe
that is our newest crewmember with him."
"Where do you suppose they are going?"
Krysa watched as they headed down a darkened corridor toward the seedier
side of the station. "I would venture a guess, they're headed to 'The Wall'."
"I thought you told me that was not a place that welcomed Starfleet officers."
"It's not," Krysa said. She sighed, "But obviously our menfolk don't care
about that."
Meleah turned and headed off in the direction they had seen the two men go.
Krysa grabbed her arm, "Where are you going?"
"It is likely that they will need our help." Meleah said.
"Are you crazy. You don't want to go in there."
"You can wait here for me. I just want to make sure they are safe."
Krysa groaned, "Well, I can't let you go alone."
Meleah shrugged, "I am much more equipped to deal with trouble then you
are, Krysa."
"Probably," Krysa agreed, "but what fun is shopping all alone. They will be fine. Let's finish our shopping, then join them!"</I>
"Very well," acknowledged Meleah.
Meleah and Krysa watched the new counselor and CSO enter the Wall. Kyrsa detoured the
female-duo into a small antique book shope adjacent to the Wall. About fifteen minutes later, the two emerged, with three old books in-hand. Kyrsa enjoying here find like a child with an ice-cream sundae.
They approached the door to the 'Wall', and entered. After adjusting to the light,
Kyrsa spotted J.C. and Loren talking to some other Starfleet officers.
Turning to Lt. Meleah, Kyrsa pointed them out, "Look, there they are." She stopped as
Meleah shoved her out of the path of a chair that flew right towards them....
Submitted,
Mike Dailey
Splatter2@qtm.net
Lieutenant J.G., J.C. Allard SEC-TAC - USS FEYNMAN - SILVER FLEET<br>
Lieutenant D'doj Zzawj Ckorji MD OPS/2O USS ELIZABETH BLACKWELL SILVER FLEET<br>
Lieutenant Commander Jordon Kabreigny - CNS - USS BURKE GREEN FLEET<br>
=======<br>
= NRPG  =<br>
=======<br>
Hello all! I had in mind the scuffle scene from TOS Trouble with Tribbles, Kevin, add
anything you want, Kris and Company to our rescue!?!?!?
Jason - I wasn't sure if you were going to join us or not, but you can still write
Tarrant in...
Have a fun, HAPPY, and *SAFE* new years eve.!!!
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Convergence</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Andrew Catterick 12-31-1996</h4>
SD:81231.1300<br>
MD:10.1700<br>
Scene:Captain's Quarters<br>
"Come." Zane said over his shoulder to the door as he looked into
the mirror, a final check.
"Well, well, well. Big night out on the town?" Bat asked as he
and his 3 companions entered the cabin and noted Zane's tuxedo.
Turning to face them, he moved over to one of the room's chairs
and sat down to slip on his shoes. "Thought I might splurge a little.
Its been awhile since I've actually done anything on a layover. I see
you four are dressed for a little carousing. Not the Wall again?"
The three younger men laughed nervously remembering Zane's anger
the last time they had been to the Wall and then got up close and personal
with several of the bar's patrons - in the base's drunk tank. "There are
several bars on our agenda but don't worry the boys have not let me talk
them into going to the Wall...yet." Bat replied.
"You three are on your time," The captain rose, "but see that he
doesn't succeed."
A chorus of yessir was interrupted by the bartender. "So are you
going to keep us in suspense? What are the fancy digs for? Hot date?
Second job as a waiter?"
"I thought I might try my luck in the casino this evening." He
said with a smile "So if you'll excuse me there is a baccarat table with
my name on it."
_________________________________<br>
Scene:VIP club, Casino EPSILON<br>
MD:10.1830<br>
"...monkey, monkey! MONKEY!" Zane's table mates screamed out with
enthusiasm as the dealer drew the last card from the shoe. Unfortunately
the gods of gaming were to ignore their pleas.
"Three, player has six, dealer wins with seven." Efficently the
dealer collected the players chips pausing to pay Zane's bet, after first
deducting the 5% commission for betting dealer-win.
"Another drink for you sir?" The server asked from behind.
He drained the nearly empty glass and placed it on her tray.
"That'd be great Bianca, same as last time please."
She smiled at him. "Okay one iced-tea."
"Thanks." The casino believed in serving alcohol rather than
sythehol to its patrons. Many argued the effects were the same but it
seemed alcohol still encouraged larger bets. Zane had decided early on
not to take any chances and had stuck with nonalcholic drinks.
"Ahhh, Zane my friend, how are you?" A short Lebanese man
approached the table, extending a hand. The captain recognized the accent
before he turned to see the face.
"Nabil! I'm good, you?"
"Much better now that I know you are back with us. Are you
winning all our money?"
"I've had a good run." He gestured at his stack of purple chips.
"Not much more or they won't be able to pay me!" The executive
host of the casino pleaded feigning concern.
Zane gestured around at the thousands of guests around them in the
noisy room. "Very little chance of that."
"But it is good you are here. The item you were looking for I
have found it."
"The item?" Zane asked puzzled. It had been over a year since he
had been in the casino. Nabil had a knack for finding elusive items and
Zane had used his services several times before but he couldn't remember
what this item was.
"The book!"
Recognition burst through. Since his days at the Academy he had
been searching for a leather bound, orginal copy of Asimov's Foundation.
He had it in several electronic forms and even had a paper version but he
had long sought one of the orginal 500 year old copies to add to his
collection. "Where?"
Nabil paused as Bianca returned with the iced-tea. "Here on
EPSILON, a friend of mind managed to acquire it and has been saving it for
you. He has a little store down on the market level right near the Wall."
"A book store on the market level?" He asked incredulously.
"He does sell other items as well." Nabil answered with a
conspiratorial smile.
Zane rose from his chair and tossed the Vulcan dealer one of his
purple chips. His excitement demanded he get teh book right away. Now he
had something to truly look forward to on his shore leave.
_____________________<br>
Scene: Just outside the Wall<br>
MD:10.1900<br>
"I can't believe you guys are scared to go in there for one little
drink." Bat shouted in exasperation. "Look we'll go in, we won't talk to
anyone, we won't look at anyone, we'll have one drink and then we'll
leave. Its tradition! We've never been on EPSILON without having a drink
here. Nothing happened last time."
"I don't know Bat." Fuhrman, the transporter chief said. He
wanted desperately to get promoted up from ensign and another barroom
brawl didn't seem like a good career move.
"Hmmphf. Well I'm going in myself you three can sit on the bench
there and wait for me." With that Bat stormed into the bar.
"We can't let him go in there alone." Mike Larocque said.
"If something happens..." Barron added.
"...he'll get killed." Fuhrman finished.
"Ok one drink and then we leave and we carry him out if we have
to." The three friends followed the old bartender in. Less than 50 fifty
away the captain of the USS FEYNMAN exited from a small non-descript store
and slowly began walking in the general direction of the Wall."
<<<NRPG>>>
Mike/Kevin/Kris: Well if your planning any fun in the Wall you've got
four more participants and one more on the way! <BEG>
Respectfully,<br>
Andy<br>
-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br>
Retrieved from "http://boi.alt-starfleet-rpg.com/Special:MobileDiff/36565...36594"