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<div style="float:right; margin-top: 25px; padding-right: 200px;">[[Image:FEYNMAN PATCH DRAFT2.png|450px|FEYNMAN Shoulder Patch|center]]</div>
<div style="float:right; margin-top: 25px; padding-right: 200px;">[[Image:FEYNMAN PATCH DRAFT2.png|450px|FEYNMAN Shoulder Patch|center]]</div>


<font style="font-size: large; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">TOTAL FEBRUARY 1997 POSTS: *TBD*</font>
<font style="font-size: large; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">TOTAL FEBRUARY 1997 POSTS: 30</font>
<br>
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"You expecting some replacements for your department Commander?"
"You expecting some replacements for your department Commander?"


[[Well I did put in for some more operations staff including
[Well I did put in for some more operations staff including
supply but they were low priority. I wouldn't expect anyone until we had
supply but they were low priority. I wouldn't expect anyone until we had
completed this mission maybe even the next.]]
completed this mission maybe even the next.]


"I see. Well, I think its time I introduced myself. Zane out."
"I see. Well, I think its time I introduced myself. Zane out."
Line 2,785: Line 2,785:
-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Moving the Rock - Episode II</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Michael "Mike" Dailey 2-19-1997</h4>
STARDATE: 90219.2120<br>
SCENE: USS NOGURA II<br>
MD: 4.1650<br>
Both squads of security troops gazed beyond the NOGURA II's
viewports, into the bitter, numbing realities of combat. Majestic, and yet
gargantuan when compared to their FEYNMAN. The CHEYENE class starship that
had engaged and pursued the runabout now lay to their port side, dwarfing the
NOGURA II. Sleek in the design of her pearlescent hull, save for the missing starboard
side of the saucer section.
Starfleet officers and non-commissioned officers alike dealt with the
risks and hazards of space. That loss had touched, and wrenched at the hearts
and minds of nearly every trooper, save J.C. Starfleet losses had been overwhelming
recently, especially in SILVER. If this mission didn't have some success, the
BISMARK, PEARSON, and HAWKING could follow as SILVER's casualties mounted.
<nowiki>*Spirits, we've got to help them,*</nowiki> the CSO thought to himself. Swallowing hard, J.C.
tried to suppress the screams of their ghosts in the back of his mind. *I don't remember
a CHEYENE on regular patrol in this sector.* Then, it occurred to J.C. the may not
even been 'fleet, perhaps Maquis or renegades? Grey fleet?
Another shuddering though came to J.C. * If Lt. Jerran were to order his
squads split-up, J.C. would resolutely object, in the log if it came to that.
With just fourteen people total, the odds were already leaning in a direction he did
not favor. Their luck, they would board a troop transport.
Gradually everyone regained their composure, except for SCPO T'boc, who of
course never lost his. Returning to their seats, J.C. called his three NCO's T'boc, Karr,
and Tamarov.
"LT. Jerran will give us the 'go' any minute. As soon as they maneuver into position
and locate a appropriate point of entry for us." He halted as the front cabin door parted
to deposit the FEYNMAN's Counselor, Ens. Landers. Nodding to Loren, J.C. continued on
briefing his NCO's.
"I want a final weapons check. No last minute surprises for us." ordered the CSO.
"Sir," T'boc added, "I recommend a comm check also. In addition to serving a useful
purpose, it will provide a distraction from the waiting period." Everyone wore the
standard hands-free comm headset. Two channels, one for squad-level communications,
the other tied into the NOGURA II. Both scrambled, of course.
Alex, standing a few paces behind SCPO T'Boc, made a strange face as if to say
'I was about to suggest that', but decided to leave the Vulcan NCO alone, for now.
Mr. Karr, the most recent security NCO on the FEYNMAN, remained silent likewise.
"So ordered, Mr. T'boc. Complete all checks in five minutes, then have the troops
stand ready, Alex." A trio of 'aye Sirs trailed them, as they barked out the necessary
orders. J.C. turned his attention back to the inquisitive Counselor.
"What's on your mind, Loren." J.C. checked both channels of his own comm unit, though he
had already done so at least four times.
"Hey, I'm supposed to ask that question." Loren painted a sly smile on his face. In the
few months their friendship had grown, J.C. knew the Counselor was scheming something.
"Need an extra man?" asked Loren, seemingly from out of nowhere.
"With 'Captain Jerran's' approval, sure." J.C. reached over beside his seat,
grabbing his MARK-VII rifle. He held it upright, and tossed it to Landers. "That is,
if you think you can handle one of these." Loren picked the weapon from mid-flight.
"Now you really don't want me to remind you about my last qualification score, do
you 'Sir'?" *Touche,* good one, Loren.
"Mr. T'boc, get the Ensign set up in blacks and gear. He'll be joining us." ordered
J.C.
"Aye, Lt. Allard."
"Loren, how quick can you get rid of your pretty blue uniform," said J.C.
[SNIP]
Darkness. Beyond darkness. Alex and Mr. Karr's squad were beamed into the freighter's
bridge, while J.C. and T'boc's squad with the addition of their versatile CNS were beamed
into Engineering.
J.C. made a quick sweep of the area, grateful for the light mounted upon
his rifle. Chilling coldness of the freighter was evident as he could see their breath
vapors in the light. Eight including himself, all accounted for. Reaching on the side of
his comm set, J.C. keyed the transmit and diagnostic toggles twice in rapid unison.
Jerran would be looking for this signal, which to anyone else would appear as 'space noise'.
Once back aboard the FEYNMAN, he would thank Bat for that little trick he had shared.
Cold, dark, and J.C. covered his mouth, as did a few others. The freighter, with
age in excess of fifty years or more, had evidently not been cleaned or aired out since
it's construction. PO/3 O'Rorke nearly lost his breakfast, but regained himself. A quick
look at Loren told he was not much better shape. Giving the signal to fan out, the group
broke off into pairs. J.C. motioned for Loren to stick with him.
Engineering was dead, in both power and crew, as many bodies, or remnants of
such lay sparsely about here and there. Extensive damage from exploding consoles
and falling structural pieces were the warrantors of death. Of the three freighters
in the convoy, one had succumbed to the battle, and the second had been a victim of it's
own toxic cargo. Not exactly the outcome Captain Zane had planned, but then when
did plans ever develop properly. This one, the lead ship, was the only one left to board.
Briefly startled at Alex Tamarov's voice in his ear, J.C. switched to channel 2.
"Sir, No resistance at all. Actually only three survivors, and none are conscious
or in condition to offer any resistance. They do need medical attention though."
said the ACSO.
"As far as the bridge, 90% destroyed. No power. Perhaps if we had, we could access the
computer, if this junk heap even has one." J.C. agreed, expecting a portion of the hull
to simply fall off any minute.
"Acknowledged. Send two men back to the NOGURA with the wounded, and advance toward
engineering. We'll proceed towards you, and meet." ordered J.C.
"Aye sir, Tamarov out." J.C. motioned for Loren to follow. Through engineering, the
came to an access ladder leading down. It took both men to force the manual override
lever down to release the hatch. Gazing into the eyes of his friend, J.C. held his
own rifle, unaware his knuckles were turning white.
"I'll go down first. Shoot ANYTHING that moves, Ensign." J.C. ordered with a forced
calm. Loren did need to be a telepath or esper to know how J.C. felt, as he shared
the same uneasiness. Loren aimed his rifle-light beam down the hatch ladder, but
revealed nothing but continued blackness of damp darkness. J.C. tuned to back down
the ladder, rifle clutched tightly in his left hand.
Step after cautious and gradual step, J.C. descended. After a dozen or so,
he looked down, and from the powerful beam of Loren's light, could still see nothing
more than the blackness. Looking up, Loren shrugged.
Continuing on, the ability to breath 'good air' was disappearing as he made
his descent. He had climbed down nearly fifteen meters. "Loren, I don't think this
leads anywhere. We may..." but the sentence never concluded. The hand that had
grabbed hold of his ankle in the same instant all color drained from the CSO's face.
Clutching for dear life to the ladder rungs with his right hand, J.C. pivoted and
brought the rifle to bear on more than a dozen pairs of eyes.
"LOREN, HOLD YOUR FIRE", he blurted out, though knew not what forced had allowed
him to think. Shining his light, they saw their faces matched their forms, ragged,
dirty, and probably undernourished.
Submitted,
Mike Dailey
splatter2@qtm.net
<nowiki>********
* NRPG *
********</nowiki>
Hello all. Well, our battle already strayed us a bit from the original plan,
so I (of course) took another little detour. <G> Joseph, enjoy interrogating the
three 'guests' Alex will have beamed over. I'm sure Jerran is as good an inquisitor
as a pilot? Hmmm. (How many light do you see?? ....)
Kevin - Well, you wanted to come along, so here you are. Hope you don't shoot J.C.
accidentally <BG> Develop the dozen+ 'survivors' as you wish... refugees? or
perhaps slave laborers? Also, order my troops about as you wish. You're an officer
and all are NCO's or below.
Team 1 - You guys are quiet??? Melanie, I wondered what Meleah was up too..<G>
FEYNMAN - Talk about surprises from nowhere! I thought she was recaptured and
sent back to some prison - rehab colony???
Cheers All!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<br>
* Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard CSO - USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG          *<br>
* Lt. (Dr.) D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - OPS/20 - USS E. BLACKWELL SILVER FLEET *<br>
* Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny CNS - USS BURKE GREEN FLEET                    *<br>
* Lcdr. Ion Steiner L.C. - SFDOC TEAM ALPHA-1 SFDOC                    *<br>
* Codr. Johan Baurr - COMSFDOC "All I ask is a tall ship..."            *<br>
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: NRPG: "If you were on a desert island"</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 2-20-1997</h4>
>NRPG:
>
>I considered crashing into the moon, but that's been done before :)
Now, not really. It was an asteroid, and if you think about it the asteroid
was moving. So therefore the asteroid crashed into us. If it were not for
Krysa's skill the Nogura I and all occupants would be dead....
Kristen-> who will never admit it might have been Krysa's fault!<br>
<nowiki>------------------------------------</nowiki><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: Husnock Mining Facility</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Jason Bostjancic 2-20-1997</h4>
SD: 90220<br>
MD: Whenever we officially beamed down<br>
Scene: Husnock Mining Facility<br>
As the light from the transporter faded, Tarrant and the rest of the
away team had a sinking feeling in thier stomach's. Not because
there was nothing there of intrest, but because the gravity was
turned off, leaving only the limited moon's gravity to hold them down.
There was only one large room that made up this level of the facility.
Much of the equipment appeared to be attached to the ceiling and
floors facing inward, though there was no sign of power or recent use.
Cdr Maril float-bounced, and turned to Tarrant, he looked quite
uncomfortable. "Perran without direction."
The partial klingon pulled out his tricorder and started, "Scanning...
hmm, It's an interresting setup. It seems that this facitity was meant
to rotate, which increases gravity"
"And the axis looks like some large drill bit that's burrowed into
the moon itself." added Chief Bate. She was a recent addition
to the Engineering team who looked to have promise.
She looked a bit confused, "Why would the Husnock's use
such an archaic method to drill?"
"Perhaps the element they're looking for is too volatile for
energy beam extraction." It was one possible answer, "but
right now we need to get power and find our arrow."
The teams 'bounced' to designated sections to try and determine
anything and everything they could. Tarrant and Maril meanwhile
looked at a large cylidrical device that went through the center
of the building.
"Myra around the axis of Chapar?" asked Maril.
"I'm not sure. Most of the Husnock technology turned itself
off or blew a backup relay that caused shutdown when thier
people were ... " Tarrant tried to find the right word but failed.
"Anyway, we should be able to reset the system and it'll come
back on line."
Maril pointed towards a 'charred' looking cuplink.
Opening his kit, Tarrant pulled out his micro-welder and set
about bypassing the link.
"Look out people, I thing we might have movement..." announced.
Tarrant after a few minutes.
Soon after, the room and building started to rotate. As the speed
slowly increased so did the lighting brightness. Eventually everything
was sent 'to the walls', as the sideways gravity set in. As was usual
with the Husnock, once everything was operating it ran perfectly.
The gravity was not too much to force thier bodies to the floor/side,
but was enough to put them solidly on thier feet. Then, all of a sudden,
the computers lit up as if everything was immediately turned on
at once.
"Tarrant to Meleah..."
There was no reply.
<NRPG>
Well, now we need to find our arrow to the next spot.
AS for the building... I really like that ride at the fair's called the
Gravitron, and that's kind of what I was thinking of, but not as
extreme. With the moons diminished gravity as it is I think this
might work.
Although it'll be a little disconcerting lookin up and seeing
the rest of the room :p
Respectfully,<br>
Jason<br>
Commander Tirrin Vorak - XO - USS BURKE<br>
Lieutenant Tarrant L. Koreth - CEO - USS FEYNMAN<br>
Potest esse nur unus
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Always Watch Your Back...</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Max Felsher 2-21-1997</h4>
SD 90221.0120(GMT)<br>
MD 5.0030<br>
ST318 Mining Installation: Third Level: Corridor<br>
Maril and his team of seven officers scanned
the corridor they were traveling
along, first for signs of life, then for other
pieces of information.
"The corridor walls appear to be mostly
composed of multi-layered ferric
compounds and several unknown polymers," CWO4
Nicodemus reported.
"Wait, there appears to be a door in this section
of the wall." He cleared away a
thick layer of dust as Maril stepped forward.
"Can we open it?" Maril asked, his voice
unintentionally raising a bit in hope
that they might find something.
"It is possible," an engineering officer
said. "Most of the base's systems are
probably offline, but if we provide a constant
pulse to activate whatever kind of
sensor they use, we might be able to activate the
door-opening sensor here."
Maril nodded. "Make it so."
The engineering officer pointed his tricorder
at the door and seemed to use
some sort of electromagnetic pulse. After a few
moments of waiting, the door
opened, quite surprisingly, like a door on a
Federation starship.
Maril put up his hand to stop anyone from
entering the room. "Wait a
moment. We are still at a strange base, and we do
not know how the systems
work. Half of you stay out here and continue to
scan the hallway. The other
half, come with me."
The officers obeyed and the four of them
walked into the room.
Maril looked around. There were tables and
utensils with plates. Off in
another corner there was some sort of receptacle,
apparently for food. It was
amazing. Almost everything was exactly like it
must have been when all the
Husnock died.
"This appears to be a mess hall," PO/1
Franklin observed.
"Yes," Maril answered, almost in awe of it.
"We'll walk around the room to
search for clues to where a Husnock base might be,
and then we'll leave. Try
not to disturb anything unnecessarily." They
silently walked through the room,
trying to find something of value to their search.
Finally, they exited, with not
much more information, but a new sense of the
Husnock people.
"The army of Bilmaelel. Let us continue,"
Maril ordered calmly and quietly.
They kept on walking down the hallway. Most
of the rooms along the way
were entered and visually searched for clues.
After another hour, they had
moved to a different section of the base.
Suddenly, along one wall, they found a door
that was locked in the open
position. Maril quickly drew the team back.
"We do not know what is in there, or why the
door is open. Everyone, have
your phaser ready. You four, stay out here and
watch the hallway," Maril
ordered, gesturing towards four of the officers in
the group during the lasat
sentence. He tapped his communicator. "Maril to
Shuttlecraft 'Cochrane'. I
want you to have a lock on all our signals and be
able to pull us out of here at
my command."
There was no response.
"'Cochrane', are you there?"
Still, there was no response.
"Well, I think we'll have to be extremely
careful. Everyone, watch your
back." As he said that, he stepped into the room,
motioning for three other
officers to come with him.
Quickly, they searched the room. The room
had been ransacked and many
objects were on the floor, but no one remained in
the room, which appeared to
be an officer's quarters.
"Suggestions on what happened here?" Maril
said after they had regrouped
in the hallway.
"It is possible that someone did this just
before all the Husnock died," an
engineering officer said with not much confidence.
"Unlikely," MCPO Pomeroy said, shaking his
head mournfully, "I scanned the
phaser burns made in that room. They were made by
a Federation issue rifle."
The sun has met the sea,<br>
Commander Onta Maril,<br>
First Officer, USS Feynman,<br>
aka Max Felsher<br>
NRPG:
Well, I wonder who did this. New Grey Fleet ships
angry for revenge (we did
destroy or capture all of the original four,
correct?)? Pirates who have acquired
Federation weapons? Xanthadi who were able to get
Federation rifles? I don't
know. :)
I'm noticing some interesting parallels between
this mission and the mission of
the Great Shuttle Accident. One: an away team led
by the FO of the ship is
exploring a base built by an extinct civilization.
Two: a shuttle with the FCO
and the CNS heads towards an asteroid. The
shuttle is then destroyed. Three:
there are two away teams once again. Of course,
the next parallel would be for
the Feynman to lose most of their primary systems
so that they can't contact
either away team. :)
BTW, I've received two requests for the posts
which document the Great
Shuttle Accident. Anyone else want them? <g>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Xanthandi, Husnock, and Kzin... Oh my!</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Michael "Mike" Dailey 2-23-1997</h4>
SD - 90223.0030<br>
MD - 4.1900<br>
SCENE - Bridge of Xanthandi freighter<br>
<I>
> Looking around at his crew members, Jerran added, "I think we should find
> out just what this ship is capable of before we do develop a problem with
> our cargo."<br>
</I>
"Mr. Allard," Jerran called from the seat formerly occupied by the Xanthandi
Commander, "Try to determine this ship's previous heading." J.C. was standing
behind Loren, while the CNS did his 'Merrick' performance.
"Aye, Sir." He Maneuvering towards the Ops station, J.C. stepped over a few
piles of rubble and broken chunks of machinery that had been working systems
in better days. The CSO still was amazed that this ship was holding itself
together. Glancing at the NAV console, the ship's former helmsman had been
so kind as to leave the course still entered.
"Lt. Jerran, course is 177 mark 35," said J.C. He looked at Jerran and then
Landers,
"Straight for the Hoji system,?" asked Loren.
"Right, 'Marrick'." retorted J.C. Perhaps Mr. Landers' acting abilities could
come in useful in the future.
"Mr. Landers, ship's status?" asked Jerran. Loren apparently found the right
mode to access internal sensors, after a few wrong attempts.
"SIF down to 81%, sheilds at 30%, looks like this ship was due for a maintenance
check a few thousand light-years ago." reported the CNS.
"Not good, but sufficient for now. Mr. Allard, same course, ahead full impulse."
ordered Captain Jerran.
"Aye Sir. I hope the entire Engineering Deck doesn't fall off." J.C. coaxed the
intermix up, and slid the toggle bars up to 100%. He could see Loren trying not
to laugh too much.
"We shall have to trust our skills to hold our ship together, gentlemen." said
Jerran.
Submitted,
Mike Dailey
splatter2@qtm.net
<nowiki>********
* NRPG *
********</nowiki>
Hello all. Just a quick one to keep moving. Joseph, you're up. Take us where
you wish. Kevin, not sure what J.C. hates more 7-ft tall cats or Husnock 'bugs'... <BG>
Cheers!
Mike
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<br>
* Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard CSO - USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG                  *<br>
* Lt. (Dr.) D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - OPS/20 - USS E. BLACKWELL [LOST] SILVER FLEET  *<br>
* Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny CNS - USS BURKE GREEN FLEET                            *<br>
* Lcdr. Ion Steiner L.C. - SFDOC TEAM ALPHA-1 SFDOC                            *<br>
* Codr. Johan Baurr - COMSFDOC "All I ask is a tall ship..."                    *<br>
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: The Truth About Scents and Wondering Ensigns</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 2-28-1997</h4>
Stardate: 90228.1400<br>
Scene: Jenn's Quarters<br>
MD: 5.0230<br>
The young ensign moved to the Ops Officer's computer terminal. She sat
down quickly, "Computer, what is the FEYNMAN's current mission."
"Unable to comply, this terminal is under security lock."
"Damn!" she muttered. "What about the location of the Trader-Monk beamed in
earlier."
"Unable to comply, this terminal is under security lock."
She frowned. Should she dare leaving and trying to find another terminal
that might work for her? What if she ran into Sparky? Sitting her certainly
wasn't helping. She did not like being under Zane's control again. Even if
he didn't know who she was.
Having made her decision, she walked to the door and nearly walked right
into it. "Computer, open door."
"Unable to comply, these quarters are under security lock."
She groaned.
<Is there something we can do for you Ens. Wilson.> a voice said.
"Yes, you can let me out of here. Why am I a prisoner." She said irritated.
<It's for your own protection. Orders of both the second officer and the
Captain.>
Dee turned away from the door in frustration, looking around the room.
There had to be another way out of here.
Scene: Bridge
Krysa was still sitting at Ops, scanning for wandering raiders that might
interfere in the Away Team's mission, when Dr. Glin'kharr stepped onto the
bridge. She looked up at him in surprise, as it was very rare to find him
there. "Doctor? Is there a problem?" Zane asked.
The Doctor growled, "That's understatement. Can I see you in your ready
room, Captain." He turned to Krysa, "I think you should hear this as well,
Commander. This will only take a minute."
Krysa looked at Zane who nodded. She stood and turned the Ops over to a
young Ensign while her AOps move to take the center seat. She followed the
two officers toward the Captain's ready room.
Zane moved to his chair and took a seat while turning his eyes on the
albino CMO.
Glin'kharr didn't wait to blurt out his news. "Dee is here."
Krysa froze at the name. Her eyes met Zane's as he glowered over the CMO's
words. "Ens. MarDEE Wilson." He said quietly.
Glin'kharr nodded.
"So now what do we do?" Krysa asked, still a bit stunned. Though by now she
should know better.
Regards,<br>
Lt. Cmdr. Krysa Jenn<br>
OPS/2O, USS YORKTOWN<br>
***<br>
NRPG: Well, it's not the greatest, but it's out and know Zane and Krysa
know Dee's here. Does she get out of Krysa's quarters .. I don't know ..
depends on if the security measures were good enough .. I suspect between
Krysa and Zane they probably were, but everyone can make a mistake :}
Sorry it took so long to get out .. Hopefully in about 6 weeks I'll be less
likely to be moaning about how yucky I feel and you won't have to wait so
long for a post :}
Kristen<br>
<nowiki>*************************************************************</nowiki><br>
.^. Kristen Gant<br>
.-----' `-----. (AKA: Lt. Krysa Jenn, Ops/2O, USS FEYNMAN<br>
| [##' `##] | Cmdr. Ainese Kev, XO, USS YORKTOWN<br>
`---' __ `---' Capt. Gabriel Faison, CO, USS FARADAY<br>
| .-' `. | Dr. Janna Swansen, CMO, USS PHOENIX<br>
|' `| Ens. Roana Shan, CNS, USS SABRE<br>
Cmdr. Y'lonna Dyvian, XO, USS VICTORY<br>
Lt. Faith Donaven, Inst. (Camp Venture)<br>
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/Kris/kris.htm<br>
-<br>
Kristen & Scott Gant<br>
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/gant.htm<br>
MDailey
5,483

edits

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