Kai
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Post by Kai on Jan 11, 2019 16:20:42 GMT
Syria hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until after the transporter had finished and she let it out in a rush. Ok, so she hadn't used the transporters from Starfleet design before and hadn't been 100% sure that it would work properly. She checked to make sure she was in one piece before stepping off the transporter pad listening to the Captain of this station, who she realized sound very displeased to have them onboard to her ears and obviously to the captain who's hand had slowly lowered back to his side.
"Of course Captain," Syria said looking to the stoic first officer to lead the way. The Caitian did not like the thought of splitting from her team in unknown environments, especially with reactors activating on their own. However, she understood the necessity of splitting up so they could help in more ways than one.
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Post by syrano on Jan 16, 2019 4:49:49 GMT
[ Cmdr Evelon | Staging Area | Arcturian Station ]
The transporter made her stomach lurch this time. It didn’t the first time, but maybe that’s because she was going from transporter pad to pad. This time, she appeared in what appeared to be...bumfuck nowhere. It smelt like the great outdoors here. Great. She gripped her weapon a little tighter, constantly scanning her surroundings for movement that unsettled her. The captain assigned her to take Syria and see if they could access the core. Even better. She did not like the child, she decided she was. Once glance over at the furball and she noticed she was looking back at her. At least it wasn’t the Klingon she was taking with her. There weren’t likely to be Klingons out here. Maybe some raiders looking for an easy hit, sure, but this station was so dilapidated they wouldn’t find much glory out here. They might find skin fungus instead. Logically, she knew it was unlikely that Klingons lurked the corners of this station, or the space outside it. She felt prickles up her spine anyway. She trusted those prickles—they’d saved her life too many times to count. “Understood Captain. We will maintain contact every five minutes and return here in an hour if nothing else changes our plans. Be sure to follow the station map provided to us.” She returned his smile with a dark look of her own. She felt he wasn’t taking this seriously. It might cost him his head. She may not like anyone here, but she didn’t want that. She couldn’t follow him and the senior staff and protect them, so the best she could do is prepare them. “Exercise caution in all things, captain, if nothing else. Stay along the explored paths, if you can.” She warned, with her voice just a touch lower. It was all she’d do to emphasize her point. She trusted he knew enough to understand. Hopefully she trusted correctly.
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Kai
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Post by Kai on Jan 17, 2019 16:32:24 GMT
Syria's tail flicked in annoyance it was the only sign she had that she was not impressed with being sent with an XO that obviously didn't seem to like anyone on their team. Her nose twitched as she tried not to smell the worst of the smells around them and kept her Phaser Rifle at the ready. Silently she followed the XO keeping her eyes alert and her senses sharp. the Feline kept her mouth shut, she had nothing to say to the Officer she was traveling with, nor did she know the woman.
All Syria felt off the woman was an empty void, however, the Caitian needed to turn her focus away from them and to their surroundings. Though, even knowing her companion didn't like her, did not change the fact that Syria wasn't about to let anything happen to her superior officer. Her eyes moved around them as she followed Commander Evelon.
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brutus
Junior Member
Posts: 68
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Post by brutus on Jan 20, 2019 18:32:45 GMT
[ Lt (jg) Cara Siobhan Ross | Transporter room 1 | USS Augustus ]Things moved swiftly from that point on. The group was assembled in good order on the transporter pad, and Cara focused on starring straight ahead. She'd end up near the front, just to one side of her Captain, with the First officer on the other shoulder of their commanding officer. There was the familiar jingle of bell like notes, that pleasant, musical whine of the transporter firing up. Blue white light filled her gaze. A moment later - an eternity, a second - Cara materialized on the stations transporter pad. Did that take a wee mote longer than normal? she asked herself, feeling the solid ground under her feet once more, and watching as Captain Finch stepped down to greet a rather stern looking Commodore. She was flexing her hand - the doctor had finally let go, and watched her Captain carefully. Tha'must be Commodore Locke. And what a right unfriendly chap he is the redhead quietly observed. Already her eyes were darting about, taking in the state of the transporter room, the chill in the air (that was only partially physical), and the words from the outposts commander. Down right nasty, come t'think of it. Ah best be watchin' mahself around this one. Feeling a tad self-conscious in the moment, Cara adjusted hers stance, back straightening ever so slightly. She resisted the urge to fiddle with the strap of her tricorder and instead tried to mirror Commander Everton's stone faced countenance - with mixed results. She couldn't quite mask the itch she felt to start poking at everything around her. It didn't help that Dr. House was scanning all of them while the two commanding officers spoke. He doesn't seem tha least bit worried aboot the Commodore taking a dislikin' t'him, does he?Aloud however, Cara settled for an, "Aye, sir," to Captain Fitch. She stepped down, following the Doctor, taking a glance at what he was punching into the transporter console. her hands were griping the strap of her tricorder again, as she tried hard not to fidget. This was her first official away mission! "As tha' Doctor said, ready when you are, sir."
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Post by Absinthe on Jan 23, 2019 9:47:28 GMT
[ Commodore Roland Locke | Transporter Station | USS Augustus ] attn: syrano brutus Angelus Listening to the visitors sort out there plans only made the vague migraine pounding in Roland's head throb just a little worse. He was already annoyed that he had to spend valuable time focusing on getting them familiar with the station and not with the job at hand. " Alright, Ensign?" Roland asked looking to the transporter chief. " Yes sir?" the transporter operator asked looking up from the work the medical officer had done to his console to his commanding officer. " I want you to escort these guests down to corridor B-9, I think Quinn is down there bugging the work crew. Take them down there to see what they can do and tell him that either he gets to helping or he's not allowed out of the main habitat anymore. I'm tired of complaints of him distracting my people," Roland said with a tired, weighed down kind of tone. " Alright, come with me," the ensign said and led the way from the transporter room down the twisting maze of corridors, overgrown with ferns and alien plantlife. As they left Roland turned his attention to the those who remained. "Alright, I'll take to meet the only resident of the station we know of who was here before we got here. He knows a little, but I have found his usefulness to be dubious," he said with a heavy sigh and turned to lead the way down another long chain of corridors. " There was someone on the station before you got here?" Mason asked curiously. " I get the feeling there are a great number of lifeforms on the station, but we can't access most of it. The cans we can make in the areas we do have access too show signs of a species we can't identify. We don't even know if they are still on the station. What we can scan tells us it would be an agrarian society, but that doesn't make much sense on a space station in the middle of deep space, now does it?" Roland spoke about that with some boost in his mood. This was a topic he gave a damn about. He'd been presented with a number of insane conspiracy theories involving all sorts of strange things, but at that point, all they had was a spear and a basket woven from plant matter. The spear was shorter than a human one, but not even that could be taken to mean much. " Odd," Mason commented, following close behind the Commodore. He was fascinated by the station. It was apparent that at one time it was a clean and gleaming place, but time and the plants had taken it. Now the research team had carved into the place and set up nothing more than a small area and were pushing into this pocket of wilderness in deep space. it was unlike anything he had seen before. After a couple minutes walk they arrived at a pair of large doors, time having pried them off their housings, they now were held in place by thick vines and layers of fallen plant matter on the ground. They were held open a crack, clearly pried open by the very plants that pulled them off their housings. Roland stepped sideways through the opening, followed by Mason, and then the others. Mason stopped short when he got a chance to look around. The water storage area was massive and the air had that smell of swampy grasslands. Thick vines hung from the ceiling and covered the walls. No part of the original floor was visible. On one wall he could make out the shape of what he guessed was some kind of screen, though, given its state of disrepair, he doubted it still worked. On another wall baskets were hung, bottles of some unfamiliar design hung as well. All clearly made from what was grown there or what had been recovered from the ancient station itself. It felt like a place both long abandoned, but also very much lived in. Roland walked a few feet from the edge of the water and looked into the murky depths. " Well, it can be hard to tell if he's even in the tank or if he's gone out for a walk," Roland commented with a sigh as he rested his hands on his hips. He kicked a stick from near his foot into the water and watched it ripple. " Alright Mister Syrano, I've got some people here who'd like to have a word with you," he spoke clearly, knowing his voice would carry at least a little into the water. Mason looked back to the others and gave an excited little nod. Now was the time to meet strange new life forms. This was the exciting bit.
[ Frederick Rodgers Quinn | Transporter Station | USS Augustus ] attn: syrano Kai " Okay, but yeah, as I was saying, humans are the best," Fred said gleefully to the man with the plasma torch working to cut through a massive duranium beam that was blocking the corridor. " Did you know that humans are known to vocalize a pain response before they have even felt pain? Practically preemptively assuming they are in pain and vocalizing it all the same." " You have told me," the man said, only partially listening to him. " Did you know that humans can get a tune or melody stuck in their head to the point of annoyance with it? Like they legit can't get it out of their head until they are so frustrated," Fred went on, thumbing through his notes for interesting tidbits. He was sitting perched on top of a pile of debris he had taken the time to arrange into a mildly comfortable seating position. " Again, my friend, you have informed me of this," the man said, his tone remaining infinitely patient. He could focus well enough on the task at hand and really, Fred wasn't as annoying as some made him out to be. " I am beginning to think you have an obsession with this species." " Perhaps a little bit of one," Fred admitted awkwardly smiling as he ran a hand through his long graying hair. " I mean I did name myself after one." " Ah yes, the legendary figure of Fred Rodgers," the men said, with a shake of his head. " Right! I mean, I'd call him legendary, but he was one of the people I first learned about when I first got interested in humans. And I learned how nice and curious and imaginative they could be," Fred said, his tone excited and passionate. " I had to know more. I can't say how many times I've gone to Earth. I love visiting there." " And yet you're here and not on Earth?" the man observed. " Well, I have learned one thing about humans for sure, if you want to see them at their best, go to where they are and they are out here, exploring new things," Fred explained happily. " I've seen how they handle things in their own home, but I've never seen how they handle things out here. It's a new frontier in my research." " So then you're going here on some sort of research grant?" the man asked, his tone mildly curious. " I was surprised too, but I got a notice from this Octavian Group and they offered to pay for me to travel and give me the papers needed to do the research on this station thingy," Fred explained happily. " I take it this has not happened often?" the man asked, the same mild curiosity in his voice. " Not at all, not many people care about my research. I can't even get published in any of the anthropology journals," Fred said, only a hint of dejection in his voice. " A pity," the man said, as he returned his focus to the beam. " Indeed, I would have thought an outsider perspective would be useful, but I guess they are too used to humanity to have much of an open mind," Fred said with a heavy sigh and looked away. "Oh looks, we've got company," he said as he noticed a small group of people walking up the corridor. " Hello, hello." He smiled as he jumped from his perch and walked over to the group, quickly looking each of them over. One he knew, two new humans, and a caitian. His eyes moved over them quickly, pausing to study each for only a second. An odd smile crossed his face as he mumbled, ' well this is a turn up isn't it?' under his breath. Then he smiled and spoke louder to the group, " Welcome! I'm Doctor Frederick Rodgers Quinn. I'm the Xenoanthroplogist here, a civilian sadly, but it's not like only you Starfleet people can have all the fun." He smiled broadly.
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Post by syrano on Jan 23, 2019 22:29:14 GMT
[ Cmdr Evelon | Corridor B-9 | USS Augustus ]
She walked, her phaser rifle carried in front of her chest at an angle. Every time they came across an intersection, or there was enough foilage to hide something, she’d scan it over. No threat was too small for her. Especially...Quinn. To say Quinn was a physical threat would be a bold faced lie. Evelon could think of ways to take him down right this second with no problem, most of which involved stunning him. This Fred Quinn person was annoying. Horrendously annoying. She hated his voice, and his face made him look like a homeless man. “Doctor Quinn.” She began, before Syria could ever speak. She didn’t want the officer to embarrass her by saying something else she perceived to be stupid. More than that, she wanted this guy to leave. “We are here to access the core. You will be...helping us.” She grimaced at the very thought. She felt surrounded by idiots.
[ Oto Syrano | Water Tank | Restricted Zone | USS Augustus ]The water tank wasn’t massive, but it was large and imposing. A cylinder, and one couldn’t tell how deep it was. The water was a dark murky green, the only thing truly visible was algae on the surface, and a large, leafy aquatic plant that grew all the way to the water’s surface. The room was circled by a walkway that was once metal, but now was covered in soft, lush moss. The water came right up to the walkway’s surface, leaving everything wet. The water seemed still, until the stick caused gentle ripples, interrupted by lilypad-like flora. At first nothing happened. It seemed as if whoever Roland was trying to summon may have left on a walk, as he did sometimes. In a brief moment though, a white-ish blur became present in the water, slowly clarifying into a form as it came close and closer to the surface… And it was Syrano, his head and shoulders broke the water, his hand holding the stick in question. “Littering, Roland?” He queried, tossing the stick back at the man’s feet. “My, you must be in a poor mood. Ah, and I can see why.” Both sets of eyes focused on the new party. Syrano himself was truly alien. No nose, two sets of eyes, cerata instead of hair, his skin white and covered in a layer of mucus-like...stuff. And he was large. Despite his thin arm, he was clearly far larger than those present. This was only his head and shoulders—a bigger white blur under the water, constantly moving, suggested he was even larger than that. His eyes scanned over the crew, viewing them in infrared and ultraviolet, as well as the usual color spectrum. Roland Locke, he knew. He did not fully trust the scientist, but he appreciated that Locke didn’t beat around the bush. He got business done, and he left. He could tell he was not happy, moreso than usual. It was likely because of the guests he had with him. One was a man. He didn’t have a reference for how old humans were, though he knew this one was a human. He wore a red shirt—they all did. It had a strange collar, and his had a shoulder strap with shiny baubels on it. His hair was strange—parted in the middle. Syrano thought it ugly, but humans were always ugly. The next was another man. There were lots of men, and he wondered if men were more common than women in the human world. His hair was far shorter, his collar was green-ish. He had metal circles decorating his face. Strange! Very strange indeed, perhaps to protect his eyes. He only had two, after all. The third, a female. Her hair was much longer and bigger than the others, and it repulsed Syrano. Still, it was a unique color. Her eyes, too, were equally bright. Red hair, green eyes. What an odd coloration she carried. Unique! She must be highly prized among her kind for her beauty, he supposed, despite the hair. He remained floating in the middle of the tank, out of arm’s reach of any of them. It’s how he always conducted business, after all. He crossed his arms, the white underneath that signified the rest of his body spread out under him. It was almost like sitting. “I suppose your guests aren’t here to gawk--” He gave them each a strange look, difficult to interpret with his weird face. His tone did not sound pleasant, however. His voice sounded like it was warbling, not meant to be used in the air as much as it was. “I may answer your questions. But I would at least ask you the courtesy of telling me who you are—and where you are from, if you are not one of Roland’s men. And—why I should trust any of you.”Is this what Claudius was worried about? Perhaps these strangers had something to do with the power failures. Syrano maintained his unimpressed composure. He wish he had a drink to ease his headache, but as it stood, he couldn’t afford to be inebriated now.
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Kai
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Post by Kai on Jan 24, 2019 2:22:21 GMT
Syria moved with the Executive officer making sure to stay alert and scan each cross section to be sure it was safe to move through. The feline made sure to keep the commander in her perimeter as well since she did not trust the woman. Syria knew that her superior officer did not think much of her or her intellect the Commander clearly looked down on Syria as if she were a child and frankly if she did not have to she would not be with the woman. unfortunately, they had to work together.
"You'll have to forgive the Commander she's not the most sociable person, I am Lieutenant (Jg) Syria and this is Commander Evelon, we've been given the authorization to access the core and request your help," Syria said before the human could take offense to the tone of Commander Evelon's voice. which was cold and made it quite obvious she thought everyone around her beneath her.
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Post by Absinthe on Jan 24, 2019 12:42:21 GMT
[ Frederick Rodgers Quinn | Transporter Station | USS Augustus ] attn: syrano Kai At the reaction of the highest ranking of the approaching group Fred's smile faltered. Now this one was interesting. He had, of course, met some more hostile humans, but not many who wore that uniform. She was thus a unique feature in his experience and while he was uncomfortable around hostility, he did find himself curious about her. " I'm to help you access the core?" he asked, his smile drifting to an odd little smirk. " Kinda difficult as the only corridor currently believed to lead directly to the core is damaged to the point that we've spent the past 4 days trying to cut our way to it." The man with the plasma torch looked back at them. " Based off of scan, we're getting closer, but it's difficult to get accurate cans through his duranium. It seems to have a component in it unlike anything we've seen before, it refracts our scans and seems to give confusing readings," he said adjusting the torch to make a smaller and thinner blade of plasma before he returned to the cutting. " As for you being able to give me orders," Fred began as he reached into his jacket and grabbed a small data card that gave a single bright glint as he pulled it out. " I'm not a member of your fleet and I'm pretty much the only person on the station with one of these." He held up the card for Evelon to see, it had what looked like gleaming silvery waterdrop inside an octagon inside nonagon, the mark of the Octavian Group. " And basically, given who owns this station, it's my get out of jail free card. Besides, I'm a xenoanthropologist, what do you expect me to do?"
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Post by syrano on Jan 25, 2019 5:32:29 GMT
[ Cmdr Evelon | Corridor B-9 | USS Augustus ] Evelon leaned forward to examine the card with some interest. She’d never seen nor heard of an Octavious group. She didn’t fully believe it would be important—if it was, she would’ve been briefed. She took the card from his hands and looked it over, front and back. “… Lieutenant. We are to reach the core, and the doors will not open. Do you suggest a plan of action?” She spoke, her voice low and calm, regardless of the circumstances. She did not sound kind—but she was simply trying to offer Syria a chance to prove herself. She still hoped, under all that bitchiness, that her senior staff really was competent. She handed the card back and let it go before he had it in his grasp, effectively letting him drop it on the ground. She hated this doctor Quinn even more and she couldn’t identify why, but she wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he was under her skin. Not yet.
She still wanted to punch him though.
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Kai
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Post by Kai on Jan 27, 2019 18:10:23 GMT
Syria looked to the Commander wondering if the woman had ears to listen with, or was as stupid as she believed everyone around her. She looked around her not having a map of the station and only this man's word. So she tried to scan the area with her security tricorder. "Well, "Commander"," It was obvious that Syria did not regard the commander in very high esteem at this point in the way she treated people around her. "The doctor just said that as far as anyone on this station knows this is the only way to the core and they are almost through so we can either get lost trying to find another way to get to the core that no one else knows of or we can wait until they finish cutting their way through. Now call me crazy but rather than risk lives trying to find another way to a core that even the station workers do not know of or have found we stay right here and wait for them to finish cutting through to the core on the only corridor anyone knows of that leads to the core. But that's just lil' ole' me thinking logically and far beneath your intelligence." Syria said looking her superior officer in the eyes.
Syria turned to Doctor Quinn next, "anything I can do to help make it go faster?" She asked willing to get her paws dirty if need be to help cut away through to the core since they weren't exactly given a map of the station and where everything was. Originally they had been directed to this Doctor Quinn to get access to the Core which was behind this collapse corridor that they were cutting through to get to the core.
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Post by syrano on Jan 27, 2019 21:06:54 GMT
[ Cmdr Evelon | Staging Area | Arcturian Station ]
She was disappointed, to say the least. Evelon had expected that maybe Syria would show a flash of brilliance in a time of need. Starfleet officers had a way of doing just that, after all, and people that she originally thought were foolish turned out to be genius right when she needed them the most. But no, that was not the case here. Syra acted petulant towards her and sought advice from the xenobiologist of all people. He wasn’t even in uniform. She sighed quietly. She slid the strap of her phaser rifle off her shoulder and began peeling off her jacket. She wore a tank top underneath, and good lord, the muscles in her arms were definitely a lot bigger than they looked under the jacket. She could arm wrestle a Klingon and win. “Hold this.” She tossed the jacket to Fred. Though an officer he was not, he could still be useful. Then, she slid her phaser rifle back on, and approached the blocked way. “We’ve got no time to wait around, Lieutenant. Especially if the safety of this science crew is involved; Out the way.” It was not a barked order or a suggestion, but something in between, directed at the gentleman with the plasma cutter. A warning. She hiked her boot up on a piece of rubble, leaned forward, and called out one more time. “Clear the way! Stand back!” When she was assured the way was clear and all individual were behind her, she switched her phaser rifle on to a higher setting. Being a new, top-of-the-line weapon, the power in her hands made her feel far more secure than she had felt earlier. She was comfortable doing this. It powered on with a hum, a whine. Her finger curled around the trigger... “Firing in three, two, one...”The noise from the phaser was quick and loud, but not nearly as loud as the ensuing rumble and crumble of debris. Still, Rachael held her aim, burning a hole through the corridor faster than the old plasma cutter did. She wondered if the science crew was forced to work with old, cheap equipment, as they sometimes had to. Nevermind that—in a few minutes, the hole would widen enough to allow a child through, then an adult. As soon as it was big enough, she released the trigger, the beam stopped. The corners of the hole were red hot, but sure enough, she had forged an entryway. As she returned the rifle to it’s stun setting and turned it off, she glanced up to see what lay before. It didn’t look like a space station corridor at all. If anything, it looked like a nature walk. The dull, boring metal she expected to see was covered in woven thatch, creating a long, arching tunnel that eventually vanished into darkness. The floor was packed dirt and roots from goodness knows what sort of plants. It was green and lush and alive. “...Doctor Quinn. My jacket.” She held her hand out, expecting him to hand it over.
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Kai
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Post by Kai on Jan 29, 2019 18:11:44 GMT
Syria kept quiet as the Commander worked. She was wondering what it would do to her career if she put in for a transfer so soon after joining the crew of this ship. If she had to deal with this woman for much longer she may just do that. Hell Syria figured the commander would give her a going away party to celebrate what Evelon no doubt thought was an idiot leaving her ship. Shaking her head her tail moving about her with annoyance that she was trying to suppress and a wave of anger that was trying to break free. Instead, she clamped down on her anger and watched the commander impulsively cut through into the unknown risking exposure, to what was on the other side. Not to mention the Executive officer had no idea what laid beyond or if it posed a risk to the people standing around her.
Hell, there could be anything on the other side and when the feline officer squats down slightly to see what was through the hole the vegetation on the other side only confirmed that the ships first officer was off her rocker and putting people at risk. 'I'll be sure to not this in my report.' Syria thought to herself making sure for the second time that her phase rifle was set to stun. Though she briefly considered turning it on Evelon she resisted the urge to do so. "Doctor Quinn do you have any documentation or knowledge of any kind what lays beyond this opening?" Syria asked the good Doctor.
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Post by Absinthe on Jan 31, 2019 7:09:27 GMT
[ Frederick Rodgers Quinn | Transporter Station | USS Augustus ] attn: syrano Kai When the uniform jacket was thrust into his arms, Fred, more on instinct than anything else, grabbed onto it and held it loosely in his arms. He was not one to argue when someone took charge and the well-muscled woman seemed to know what she was doing. At the sound of the phaser rifle blast and the destruction of a large chunk of the accumulated debris, he could not help but jump and move back. The continuing sound of the phaser rifle, accented by the popping of the clusters of debris exploding out in a spray of tiny fragments, echoed through the corridor for what felt like hours, though it likely wasn't longer than a minute. When the woman was done there was a sizable hole in the blocked corridor and an odd tunnel could be seen through the hole she had just blasted into the pile. And then the woman asked for her jacket back and Fred held out his arm, still holding the bright red fabric gingerly. "Doctor Quinn do you have any documentation or knowledge of any kind what lays beyond this opening?"" Well, I can't say I know of a place that hasn't been properly scanned or mapped yet," Fred began but stopped when he noticed something off about the well-muscled woman. She wasn’t walking correctly; her gait showed a limp that wasn’t there before. As she laid her gun up against the wall, her limp became decidedly worse. In the span of seconds, she went from walking to being completely unable to stand. All within the span of a half-second, she glanced at the group with alarm in her face, moved her mouth to speak, her body began to fall as her legs just stopped working, and her head collided with a bit of debris jutting out from the wall that she was leaning on. She was out cold before she ever hit the ground. As her legs gave way under her, Fred moved quickly and with arms that were much stronger than they appeared, he moved to catch her, scooping her up in almost a bridal carry. " Easy there, commander," he said as he shifted her weight to hold her well balanced. He moved over to where he had been sitting and set the woman down and quickly pulled out an alien looking scanner. He did a few quick passes and looked over the odd symbols and readings on the device. " Well, not sure what is wrong, exactly, but I think you Commander has some damage in her spine left over from an old injury, I'll get her back to the base camp, I think there is some equipment there that can help," Fred spoke with the smooth ease of someone who was not only trained in these situations but had been in several. He gingerly picked up the commander and began to head away, pausing to glance back. " I'll let the others know you've cut through. I'm certain someone will be back with some sort of scanner," he said and then turned to carry the well muscled and now very unconscious woman back to base camp. As they departed, Fred moved his hand slightly to probe at the woman's spine, his fingers feeling out the pinched nerve and pressing in, pushing the bone open and away from the nerve. It should not have worked, and yet the bone slipped easily back where it belonged and freed up the nerve, promptly causing the swelling to go down. She'd wake up in a second or two, if Fred's count was correct. Back at the opening, the crewman with the torch, Chief Petty Officer Ryan Diktat, looked to Syria. " Well that was a bit of fun, now we wait," he said and began to pack up the plasma torch. He hadn't expected to cut through the fallen debris quite so easily, and he really had not expected to find another one of the odd tunnels here.
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Kai
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Post by Kai on Feb 1, 2019 2:00:35 GMT
Syria could do no more than just stare, as the Commander's walk and limp became worse until she collapsed unconscious and the Doctor had managed to catch her and lift her into his arms. It was something she hadn't expected to see from such a strong woman and officer. Granted the two officers did not seem to like one another, but Syria had never wished ill-will on the woman. Her jaw dropped and she looked from the man carrying her commanding officer away to the man packing things up. "Wait right," She wasn't sure what to do really as a Starfleet officer it was her job and duty to be sure the officers she worked with were safe, so Syria was torn between staying at this opening and learning more about the Core as ordered or follow the Commander.
Without a word, she turned to follow Doctor Quinn as was her job and duty to make sure Evelon was going to be alright. After all, she had already failed to make sure that the other officer and member of her team had remained safe. Granted Syria did not believe there was anything she could have done to change what had caused the Executive officer of the USS Augustus to collapse as she had, but no one was going to accuse her of shirking her responsibilities. So following Doctor Quinn and Commander Evelon was what she did.
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Post by multificionado on Feb 7, 2019 16:56:01 GMT
[Lieutenant Commander Sid Mushid | Bridge | USS Augustus] Sid never realized the Chair felt so good; it was his first time in it, and it felt like a throne. As Second Officer, he was in command of the bridge when both the Captain and First Mate were away, so it was down to Sid to “mind the store,” as it was. Somebody had to, in any case, and especially if things went wrong. Despite his usual positive mannerisms, Sid had always learned to expect when things went wrong. If you’re wrong, you won’t be disappointed, and if you’re right, then at least you’re ready for it. And now that the Augustus had arrived at Arcturian, he was prepared in the inside to expect it. So far, since Finch and Evelon have departed, things have been quiet. Maybe a little too quiet. Maybe it was because he had been so used to Security work in the past, used to tramping through the lines. As nice as it was to get away from action, it was somewhat boring. He decided to check with Engineering to see how things were. It took him a moment to figure out comms, given how new he was, but he figured it out okay. “Commander Dlicis,” he said, remembering the crew manifest, “this is Commander Mushid. Report; how are things down in Engineering?” It was simple enough; after all, he was new to command, let alone stepping in as ranking officer of the ship.
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