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Dawn OOC

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  1. Engineering Commander Idrudor didn’t like what the scanner told her. The man had a crushed spine, which wasn’t a problem in the safety of []The Odyssey’s[/i] med bay. Here in the middle of a smoke-filled trash-heap of a ship, he was dying from shock and internal bleeding. Worse, with the loss of gravity, yet another timer of terrible started: without g’s to pull the blood away from the ruptures, it was pooling around wherever the organs had taken injury. With every second, the injuries were getting worse. Idrudor quickly prepared a hypo with medicines to help the man. “We have to get him out of here,” she said, casting a glance back at Lt. Jelal, who was bending over consoles. “Our shuttle has gravity, that’s the first step. Let’s get this girder off of him.” She glanced around, noting that one end was bolted to the wall still, though it had half-twisted off that connection when the other side had come down. At the other end, a crane dropped onto the girder’s far end, tearing it off the wall. There might be controls for the crane nearby, or she could try and see if it was moveable, with the gravity off -- at least enough to get her patient loose. Bridge “Just a minor glitch,” the woman said, desperation and fear twinned in her voice. “Nedra, please!” the man, Coren begged. “So long as we have each other, we have enough.” When she didn’t respond, he told Parker, “Something failed in Engineering. The ship shook and we heard a boom; something exploded, I think.” “We can save her!” Nedra shouted. Coren looked sadly at Parker and said, “If you can get her out of here, I’ll be able to drag myself after.”
  2. The corridor between the labs wasn’t empty; three people huddled around the door. One of them, Michel Archam from Lab 16, had pried off the panel on the door and had his fingers buried in its guts. He and his assistant, both Antarans, were in their lab coats and wore oxygen masks, though neither had a suit on. The third was an unknown assistant, a human with large gray eyes who at least had a sealed suit on -- though Tal’Vyk knew that model and it was rated for about five minutes of open vacuum. “Engineer!” Archam barked when he saw her, pushing aside Leana, his assistant. “Thank the gods! The door refuses to open! Can you?” He stepped aside and waved to her, then saw L’kron behind her. He scowled at the other scientist but said nothing to him, perhaps in deference of the emergency. If so, he was showing a modicum more restraint than other scientists on this boat. The human shifted a little and said in a soft voice, “I can help, hold tools or a light.” Archam’s assistant shot her a hard look and then rolled her eyes. “Pipe down there, Penny Powerpack,” she said in a nasty voice, “the Engineer will tell us what we need to do.” She looked up at Tal’Vyk with a ‘teacher’s pet’ smile. Clearly, Leana had decided that Tal’Vyk was the person to save her from this mess, and therefore the person to suck up to. Hallway outside Labs 7, 9, 11, and 13 Simon staggered into the hallway, clumsy in his unfamiliar spacesuit. His head was still pounding, and he wished that he’d thought to administer a hypospray before he suited up. He turned toward Escape Pod 9, but a thought pulled him away. “David,” he murmured, pushing off his wall. David had been on the Origin, too. They had a bond, and Simon knew he’d hate himself for life if he didn’t at least check on the old man. The problem was that David Booker’s lab was on the other side of The Arc, normally a nice walk up to the junction and then over to the mirroring hallway. Now, the path was full of dangers. David would go back for you, Simon thought and with a frown started toward the junction. “Wait,” he muttered, looking at the door to Lab 11 and thinking through the ship’s layout again. Yes, he could cut through 11, assuming that whoever was in there didn’t kill him for the violation. The scientists on these kind of ships fell into two groups: self-serving secretive assholes, and self-serving secretive assholes who waited for a chance to drop hints about their research. Except Simon, of course, he wasn’t self-serving, and he tried not to be an asshole. “Shit,” he mumbled, pulling out a hypo and ripping off his helmet. Wincing at the sting, he injected himself with painkillers and a cocktail of drugs that would reduce bruising, at least for the short term. He’d need real medical care soon, but not before he went for David. Swallowing hard, he opened the door to Lab 11 and stopped, blinking at the darkness. “Shit, shit,” he mumbled, reseating his helmet and fumbling out a flashlight. He almost stepped in when he realized that the room wasn’t dark; it was coated in a black goo -- an ooze that was rolling toward the open doorway and the light in a fast ripple. Slamming the door shut, he leaned against it and mumbled, “So, we’re going the long way. Shit.” With a sigh, he checked to be sure Input was still in his backpack. Then he jogged up the corridor, thinking, I hope you know what you’re doing.
  3. Crew quarters Sc’vhalles sighed and put her burden on the ground carefully. Scanning the room, she found a likely piece of debris -- and long cylinder of some kind of metal -- and hoisted it, bouncing a few times to get a feel for it. In the dark, in the privacy of the closed room, Sc’vhalles closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and centered herself. With a blood-curdling scream, she rammed the long piece of metal into the seam of the door, then with a howl that would have made a Klingon sit and take notice, threw her weight against it. With a screech that threatened hearing damage, the door was forced a few inches open. The Andorian pushed harder, gaining a few more precious inches -- enough for her to drop the metal and grab the edges of the door. Some part of her was aware that she was playing a little, because she knew it was a drill. Honestly, in her short tour on the Odyssey, she hadn’t gotten much of a chance to cut loose. So now she flexed and grunted, and forced the doors open. After a moment, she eased her shove a touch; the doors trembled for a few seconds before trying to shut again. “Fine,” she grunted, resuming her grip. She pulled the pole to her with her foot, then scooped it up and laid it on the floor between the two halves of the door. It shrieked shut again, but only until the two sides met the pole, where it stopped. “That’s more like it.” Sc’vhalles grinned and picked up her rescue. Wondering what else the program had to throw at her, she stepped forward-- As the gravity failed. Bridge Like everything else on the ship, it was small, and as Parker climbed the ladder to the bridge, she could hear voices. “--our lives, too?” “This ship is our life, Coren!” the higher-pitched of the two voices said as Parker stuck her head into the room. “It’s all we have!” A human man sat with his back against the front console; sweat ran down his pale skin, and he held one leg stiffly in front of him. The foot now pointed the wrong way, and Parker winced in sympathy. He saw her before the human woman, who stood next to him, working the controls frantically. “My wife, please help her!” the man implored pointing at the woman. “Please get her out of here!” The woman spared a glance toward Parker, but when she spoke it was to the man, “I told you, I’m not leaving our ship!” As if to confirm her shout, the gravity failed. Sickbay Chen couldn’t feel the two life forms in the room ahead of her; it might have been a matter of distance, but she knew it was really because there weren’t any minds in the room ahead. The door opened reluctantly revealing a Bajorian woman leaning over a human man on the exam table. Flickering force fields held him in place, and the woman held a suture laser in blood-covered gloves. The display over the bed told Chen he had a severed spinal cord, only half repaired. Though he wasn’t in danger of dying immediately, the spine would need healing “I can’t move him until I’ve repaired the cord,” the woman said grimly, the emergency lighting flashing across her d'ja pagh. “I need your help.” A second later, the gravity cut out, and the medic yelped, grabbed for the table, missed, and propelled herself across the room. She had the presence of mind to shut down the laser but it didn’t stop her from bouncing off the far wall. Engineering The doors opened to Engineering, and Lt. Jelal and Commander Idrudor’s first breath of air was thick with smoke. They could hear someone yelling, though the words were incomprehensible over the scream of the alarms. Idrudor reached out for minds automatically and came back empty. It was a sharp reminder that they were on a simulation, trying to rescue fake people. Shaking off the jarring loss of emersion, she and the Lt. pushed through the smoke to the back, where one human was trying to pull another one out from under a collapsed railing, screaming at his trapped crewmember. Idrudor felt that weird disjointed sense again; the man’s cries for his friend to hang on weren’t linked to any feeling or anything from the man. “Help me!” the man screamed as he spotted them. “My brother’s trapped! Please!” He hauled again and was nearly thrown away from his sibling when the gravity failed. Only the grip on his brother kept him in place.
  4. A little later at the Hollins farm… Silas followed Quinn out to the barn for evening chores - he’d been honest about that, even if it was also an excuse to talk to her alone. “Uh, Quinn?” he asked as they made their way out to the pasture where the horses were currently grazing. His hands fiddled nervously and he finally just stopped and turned to her, “Would - could ya’ come to th’ sleepover? Please.” Standing behind her, Silas saw her steps falter and her shoulders slump. “I literally don’t think I can,” she admitted, which was the first time Silas had ever heard her say something like that. She turned to face him, her expression drawn tight. “I can’t go and screw up again, and hear Roach give off that nasty little giggle of hers, or see Jo wince, or Hank drop his eyes to the floor so he doesn’t have to watch me embarrass myself. Or-- Or-- have you yell at me again.” Silas stepped over and wrapped his arms around her. She was taller than him - that had been true since middle school - but he was starting to fill out now so he could give her a proper hug again. “Ignore Roach. You know she likes to get under people’s skin. And I’m sorry I yelled. We were all wound up and none of us handled it well; I just snapped at you all instead of Dylan. And yeah, I’m stupid over a boy.” He pulled back and ran nervous fingers through his hair, looking away. “That’s why I need you there, Quinn. You. . .you keep me from bein’ total stupid. Screwin’ things up or gettin’ all caught up in my own head and freakin’ out or somethin’.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, still not quite looking at her. “I-I want ta’ go, but I dun know if I can without my best friend there, too.” “Silas, I don’t know if I can face her ever again, much less in a few hours,” Quinn said, shifting uneasily. “I mean, shouting cusses and asking about her parents…” She shook her head as the wind gusted, sending hair tickling against her skin. “I’m about ready to fall apart, that’s all I want to do right now.” “She still invited you. I think she wants friends, too.” He leaned in, put her forehead to hers and gave her his lopsided smile that was slowly moving from childishly cute to young man handsome. “And first impressions stay only impressions if’n ya run away after. Let’s go by my mom’s restaurant and pick up some snacks for the night. They’re still doing the Summer Puppy Chow dessert and you know she always makes extra. You can give ‘em to her as an apology.” Chex mix, peanut butter, chocolate, and powdered sugar all mixed together was a classic Walsh Street idea of good apology. Pulling away, Quinn turned back to the chores. Silas didn’t push, knowing that the lack of immediate pushback was good for his side. The two kids gathered up the horses, herding most of them into the barn with ease. Mickey, an ornery gray gelding, resisted as usual, running away from the kids until Quinn shook her bucket with corn in it. The rattle persuaded him to come close enough for Silas to grab his halter. It was twilight by the time the two kids finished feeding, watering, and settling the horses for the night. “So?” Silas asked hopefully. Quinn stared at him and considered what he’d said, then shrugged and headed for the house. “Gotta talk to Mom,” she said, kicking the gravel. His friend looked oddly defeated, walking with her hands in her pockets and her head down. Holly glanced up from dinner as her daughter entered the house. Her sharp eye for ails of the horsey variety covered her children as well. Sliding the pan of chicken to one side, she asked, “What’s wrong?” Quinn gave her an edited version of the day’s events, ending with, “But Silas really wants me to go. I think he’s nervous without me. So, can I go?” “Silas Walsh can take care of himself,” her mother said firmly. “What’s he so nervous about?” “Uh. He’s got a crush on someone who’ll be there,” Quinn said quickly. Her mother got that eager, gossipy look and Quinn quickly added, “But I can’t say who.” “Well, I guess the next question is, am I okay with you going to a stranger’s house to sleepover when there are boys I don’t know there?” Holly asked. Quinn shrugged. “You’ve never cared before, ‘cause you trust us.” “I mean, it’d be easy enough for me to refuse to let you go. If you need me too.” Holly raised her eyebrows, smiling when Quinn blinked. “I ain’t gonna lie, I kinda wish you would,” Quinn sighed. “But if Silas needs me and I’m not there-- I dunno, I’d hate myself.” “If you really think he’s going to come to that much harm from being around his crush, then that girl isn’t for him,” Holly said in a resolute mom-voice, missing the reason her daughter winced. “And if you are really that worried for him, maybe I should call his mom.” “Oh, please, don’t make me that kid!” Quinn squawked. “What kid?” “The one whose parent ruins everyone’s fun,” she said miserably, aware that she could had just sealed all their fates. “Is he in danger?” Holly asked. “Only from getting a broken heart,” Quinn mostly-not-fibbed. “He’s not going to get Bobbetted or anything like that.” “God, I need your brothers to watch what they say around you,” Holly said crossly. “Sweetheart, choose what is best for you, not Silas,” her mother continued, giving her a firm hug. “If you want to be there for your herd, if you think Silas needs that support, then be there. But don’t let his needs overshine your own.” “But can I go?” Quinn asked hopefully, crossing her arms as she stepped back from the hug. “If you want,” Holly said, “and if you call me after you get there with Mr. Clairburn’s direct number.” “Okay,” the teen said and started for her bedroom. As she passed her mom, Holly moved the pan back to the hot eye and bellowed, “Kaid, get your butt down here! I need to have a talk with you about what you say in front of your sister!”
  5. Next post moving things forward will be Thursday (that's the plan anyway).
  6. Mala and I worked through it. Quinn will be there.
  7. Quinn won't, unless she's Silas-pressured into it. Rather, I don't plan for her to, but I don't discount that Silas can push her buttons pretty well.
  8. Datura's tail bristled at the male's impudent question. Could she, a member of the powerful Saiyan race, one selected by the Guardian of Earth to find the Earth's Greatest Treasure, fly? He might as well asked if she could breathe, or walk, or even punch! Could she fly? "Yes," she said in a tone cold enough to freeze every being on the Lookout, "I can fly. Unassisted, even." She glanced at Shayuri for a moment, then added in a more magnanimous tone, "I could probably even carry another being and keep up with the group. I offer that as an option for travel." Her tail twitched once before she stilled it.
  9. Sc’vhalles nodded at Chen, attempting to conceal her excitement. The deck shivered under her feet again, and even as she knew it was the Holodeck tricking her senses, her heart jumped. Turning to the storage compartment, she opened it and pulled out a tricorder. “Stand back please,” she said, moving to the door. She drew her phaser, took a steadying breath and opened the door to the shuttlecraft. The fresh, clean smell of the shuttle was replaced with an acrid tang of smoke, and suddenly she was a little afraid. Even knowing it was all pretend, the danger of fire on a ship had been drilled into her. The small bay was clear of danger and she stepped out, eyes darting around, waiting for attack. Nothing jumped her and she waved to the others, signalling that it was safe. With the basic safety of the shuttlecraft secured, at least for now, she opened the tricorder and headed for the solitary signal in the crew quarters. The ship was small, so it didn’t take her long to find the room in question. The door slid partially open in three grating jerks, and Sc’vhalles had to turn sideways to step through. Narrowing her eyes in the dark, she activated the light on the tricorder. A huddled form on the floor stirred with a moan, and Sc’vhalles knelt next to it, using the tricorder to give the human a cursory exam. He was safe to move, and she rolled him upright and positioned him on her shoulder. Behind her, the door ground shut. “Well.” Sc’vhalles shifted and considered her options. “That’s not ideal.”
  10. Lab 18 "To all Archimedes personnel and tenants. We have lost life support and command, those who still live, make your way to the nearest emergency pod and abandon ship. I repeat, abandon ship. The Archimedes is scuttled." Phian Troi (though legally his surname had been stripped from him by his family) glanced up at the intercom with a scowl. He hated interruptions to his experiments, but as he listened, his irritation morphed into rage. How dare the incompetent buffoons running this ship destroy his life’s work! As he stood roiling with rage, he missed the slight movement behind him. The figure lying prone on the bed rose and sidled silently behind him. It stealthy approached him; a whisper of noise was his only warning. It still came too late as he turned into the slice of the scalpel across his neck. He gurgled and fell to the floor, holding his throat. Phain was barely aware of his killer watching their hands and rummaging through his closet. He died choking on blood, knowing that his experiment had been successful. Lab 22 The dire announcement blasted over his intercom in rough Klingon. The tone and words were gentler than any a true warrior would utter, and L'kron Mimish snorted. The six targs in the bay reacted to the sound, answering him with harsh bellows. Thinking quickly, the scientist pulled out a powered cooler and loaded several samples into it. He paused and looked over the pens, anger filling him as he knew that he’d never be able to take them all -- or even one of them. “Perhaps one,” he muttered, turning his tall lanky body to the last pen. The litter lay hidden under the dirt of the pen, and the dam shrieked a warning at him. Unclasping his phaser, he shot her before she could move to stand over the torglets. He knew which one he wanted, and he reached into the biggest mound of dirt. The baby squealed as he pulled her out of her hiding place, and the living adults answered her with irate cries. L’kron grabbed a tranquilizer, applied it to the baby, and put her in a satchel. The ship shuddered around him again, and he paused at the doorway. Feeling his chest tighten with pain, he set the lab to sterilize. Better a quick death by incineration than decompression. If he ever learned that a person was responsible for the death of his ship, he vowed he would have his revenge. Lab 7 Simon River lifted himself off the floor, moaning in pain. It took a long moment to recognize his lab since it was bathed in red emergency lights. He was-- where? The Origin? Memory returned and he muttered, “The Archimedes.” Clearly, there’d been an accident, and this time, he’d been injured. His head pounded, and he staggered his desk to fumble out a tricorder. It was over a hundred years old, held together by hope as much as actual parts, but it worked enough to confirm the concussion. Cursing, he staggered to his project, leaning against the solid weight of the machine. “Sorry, old girl,” he mumbled, patting her once. Opening her main panel, he pulled the neural core, cradling it gently. Still walking sideways as much as forward, the brown-haired man got himself into an atmosphere suit, the core into the backpack, and his first aid kit under his arm. Now to get to the lifepod before someone else did and launched it before it was half-full.
  11. I know what's been up with Mala and I regarding posting but I need to ask if Max and Mac need anything else from me to post? I'm not meaning an IC post, but I would like a Ship Roster post from both of you, please. Let me know if I can do anything to help either of you.
  12. "I can't, not tonight," Quinn blurted as it seemed that everyone else was lining up to do it. She felt a little bad at the frown that crossed Evelyn's face, so she added, "Tonight's not good. I'm just... not good." In truth, a sleepover wouldn't be a big deal, except that Quinn had already embarrassed herself enough for one day, and she couldn't bear the thought of more chances to screw up. All she wanted to do was go home, ride for a bit, and maybe cry into Bey-bey's neck for a while. "I'd love to another night," she added, which was true. She had to figure out what was going on with Dylan and Evelyn.
  13. "I'm in." The belligerent Saiyan's tail flicked when everyone looked at her. "This sounds far more interesting than anything else I have to do right now, so why would I miss this opportunity?" she added with a grunt. Her golden eyes shone with excitement as she added, "What other challenge will show itself on this planet? A fighting tournament?" She scoffed. "Why would I prostitute the beauty of my combat to a crowd of strangers when I can share with the most intimate of intimates? An enemy." Silence fell over the group, broken only by Calvin's soft, "Uhhhh..." Datura looked from one to the other. "What?" she asked impatiently.
  14. Drills had been a routine on ships, both maritime and spacefaring, almost since there had been ships. Star Fleet was no different, but the event of the Holodeck had changed how they were done. Today, Commander Elonatya Chen had been given the duty of conducting her first SAR drill as XO of the USS Odyssey. The parameters were simple: beam from Transporter 1 to the in-progress simulation on Holodeck 1 with her team. The ship was breaking up due to an unspecified emergency. The shields were flickering on and off randomly, interfering with safe teleportations and requiring a shuttle rescue. Life support was still functional but failing; there were at least two fires. Most of the crew had made it to life boats, but there were six life forms aboard, five injured; one was in the Engine Room, one in crew quarters, two in the Sickbay, and two on the Bridge. Ensign Esari Sh'vhalles stood on the transporter, looming over her crewmates even without the step up. “Commander,” she greeted in a tone of voice that was respectful and a touch sardonic. Chen might have taken offense, except Esari had that dry edge to almost everything she said. Her blue fingers roamed around her utility belt, making sure each tool was in place as her antenne trembled with restrained eagerness. “Ensign,” Chen responded with a smile. “Ready?” “Yes, sir.” Esari grinned. “I’ve never done a SAR drill before. Looking forward to the experience.” “They can be fun,” Chen said, “or they can suck. Depends on the program.” Esari’s antenne rotated away as her white eyebrows rose. “Sounds like life, sir,” the Andorian responded with a touch more respect in her voice. The doors hissed open and Commander Idrudor walked into the room, followed closely by Lt. Jelal. The transporter tech, a dark-skinned man with a nice smile, nodded to the two women as they stopped in front of Chen. He opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened one more time, and Lt. Parker arrived with a bounce in her step. She and the transporter tech exchanged playfully combative looks. "Choul," Parker said with a hard edge to her voice. "Parker," he greeted, but his "scowl" cracked into a smile. Remembering that there were others there, he hastily straightened and turned to Chen. “Are you waiting on any more?” he asked the XO. “Nope, small team drill,” Cmd. Chen said cheerfully, looking at a datapad. “I think this is actually everyone else’s first time.” “How many have you done?” Esari asked. “This is my fourth,” Chen said, shutting down the datapad’s screen and passing it to the transporter tech. “If everyone is ready, please assume your positions.” The three took spots on the transporter pad; once in place, Chen said, “Energize.” The transporter room faded into gold and then back into the interior of the shuttle. Despite knowing that they were in a simulation, everyone felt their heart rates pick up as the decking under their feet vibrated threateningly.
  15. The pounding on Tal’Vyk’s office door jerked her out of a meditation -- or maybe a meditative repair of a conduit. She’d been steadily working on it all day without much progress, mostly because it was a cheap model that had been made in the mid-2200’s. She wasn’t sure it was even compatible with the ship’s system, but the XO had gotten a “good deal” on them so they were all she had to work with now. Setting aside the problem for now, she rose, edged around the workbench/desk in the cramped office, and toggled open the door. If she didn’t lock it, the creep from Lab Fifteen would try and sneak his droid in to spy on her. Capt. Edgers had already puffed himself up to full height of five-eight, so Tal’Vyk still loomed over him. She didn’t hold it against him; the captain’s bluster was harmless. “Good work on Lab Twelve, Chief,” he grunted without greeting. It wasn’t as much an acknowledgement of her work as checking it off his mental list, but she still accepted the complement. “But the warp core is actin’ up and if we drop outta warp without warning, Their Highnesses will have my head.” “Understood,” Tal’Vyk replied with a nod, used to the captain’s dismissive name for the tenets in their labs. She closed the door in the captain’s face. They had an understanding; when the last chief engineer had blamed her for all his shoddy work, Tal’Vyk has expected the human to side with a human. Instead, Capt. Edgers had put the former chief off at closest M-class planet with severance pay and made her the Chief. At her surprise, he’d said, “Guy drank too much to be a good engineer. You do well enough.” In truth, everyone knew the Archimedes worked better than before ‘Chief Tal’, as most of the crew called her. Most of the money Edgers made went back into labs, updating their instruments and tools so the clients who rented out the labs remained happy. The tenants would have been much less happy if they’d known exactly how thin of a shoestring the ship itself flew on. Tal’Vyk didn’t mind the challenge of keeping both an ancient, shoddily modded cargo ship flying and the state-of-the-art labs working. Even being short another hand to help with engineering didn’t stop her from outshining the last guy. Tal’Vyk gathered up her tools and walked down the hall to the warp core. It was a golden rod that stretched from the floor of Engineering to the ceiling far above her head. The two-level core was small but reliable -- or at least it had been. Even before she pulled up the diagnostics, she could seen a strange flicker in the core’s lights. The diagnostics were not reassuring. Something was interfering with the warp field, reshaping it and threatening to rip the ship apart. Even as she realized the gravity of the problem, a shudder ran through the ship. “Chief Tal!” the intercom squawked, but she ignored the XO’s irritated call. Instead, she said, “Tal’Vyk to Captain Edgers. We have to--” The warp field collapsed suddenly and the ship fell out of warp just as systems collapsed. The internal dampers faltered but didn’t fail completely. Tal’Vyk still ended up pushed against the warp console under about three G’s of force for appropriately two seconds. Her panel lit up with red lights as multiple systems sent warnings. The worst one was the structural integrity warning -- the warp field had collapsed as a safety measure. The ship had started to twist, tearing bulkheads and violating seals. One of the labs had vented catastrophically to space and the two on either side were losing air.. Hope Cap’s insurance is good, Tal’Vyk thought grimly as she started to determine how to save The Arc. If she could be save The Arc at all.
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