BBS Archive of Quotes Of Infamy

Harker

Genesis Explained

Wed Feb 26

The young ensign takes his drink and starts letting it flow on down his throat of his own accord, like a good little enabler. It's certainly faster than sipping, but he does stop to keep it at a reasonable pace, at least. "Thank Christ for alcohol," he mutters absently.
"You could, too. Wasn't he the God that made alcohol? Like, hey god, we're out of booze, can you make us some? And blam, booze?" Magret, apparently, has been reading lately. She props herself up on one elbow, so as better to refrain from pouring alcohol into her hair. More like than not, she'll end up with some in her hair anyway, but it's worth a shot.

Havaris

I'll take Bitter Irony for $500

Wed Feb 26

Sovar sets his tea back down. "You seem quite adept at social interaction, Lieutenant Havaris. May I request your services in tutoring me in the art?" He calmly regards the Bajoran with no expression whatsoever.

Havaris blinks at that request before outright /laughing/ at the thought. His hands find his stomach, and he just doubles over in full from the gut belly laughing.

Medes

If you're gonna be pirates...

Wed Feb 26

... best to invoke the King of All Space Pirates, even if it /is/ from the Rival Space Opera:

Havaris has since slipped into his gold and black Invictus jumpsuit, looking every inch the former Maquis agent or -- perhaps worse -- a DMZ profiteer. Scruffy and very nearly unkempt looking, he steps from the hold and into the cabin of the craft, leaning one hand on either chair, standing over the shoulders of Medes and Solnus. "We should be there soon. Have Solnus answer their hail, should we receive one incoming. Otherwise, be prepared to authenticate our flight using Lexington's codes. Let's hope they're worth the price we paid to get them." Kusto glances back into the hold, then once more out into the viewports, letting out a breath through his nose.

Glancing up at Havaris as he stands over her shoulder, Medes adjusts her Invictus jumpsuit idly, nodding her head in response. She taps a couple of things on her console, and attempts to... fly casual.

Tyler

Captain, look at thi-YAAAAAAAH!

Wed Feb 26

Tyler steps in. She looks... A little different. Instead of the usual blue undershirt and stripes on her uniform, she's swapped them out for the red of Command. In the old days of yore, it would almost mean certain death would be befalling her at any moment, but this is a more civilized age.

Turtledove

What a girl wants ;)

Wed Feb 26

"Yes," Tyler says, then throws back the rest of her wine. She sets the empty glass down before her, then leans back again. "I think you two would... Well... Make a good couple?" she says. "He's very kind, and very sweet. Dashingly handsome."

Turtledove just sort of pauses, eyeing Tyler, her expression tinged with cheerily cynical resignation. "He's a... scientist, right?"

"Just like your friend Wendy," Tyler says. "There's nothing wrong with scientists, is there?"

Turtledove laughs quietly and shakes her head. "No, no. Not at all. I've just... well, I've never 'dated' one before. He's not hopelessly academic, is he?" She pauses, her eyes gleaming somewhat wickedly. "I mean, 'Kind and sweet'?" She grins at her friend, her expression a semi-wince. "I'm usually more of a... 'Battle-hardened and good sense of humor' kind of girl."

Foster

Lust Space Pirates! Arr!

Wed Feb 26

Cristobal says, "Sure thing Gwen baby," in response to the commands not to use ranks and act like pirates. Is that a hint of a grin on his face as he straps in?

Haven checks her weapon. Yup, max stun, then secures it in a packet. Nasty. Lusty. Space. Pirates. Right. Lusty is right, if the woman on the comm was anything to go by. Off goes her combadge then she too straps herself into her seat, feet firmly on the floor. The Gwen baby thing brings a smirk to her lips and an elbow nudges into Cris' side. Smartass.

Medes

Vulcan Pimp?!

Thu Feb 27

"Not yet, girls." he snaps, looking between the two of them. "Enterteinment does not come cheap, as you must know.." says Va'tol to the guards, giving them a reason *why* he's around, before they start getting suspicious. "I expect to be paid afterwards..Latinum, preferably...." he adds cooly, using this chance to come closer to them.

Havaris

The truth about Security Chairs

Fri Feb 28

Cristobal shrugs at Kusto's finger-waggling, saying, "The Ensign was also not defending herself from my slanderous charges, indicating that she was aware of the ruse. I also had previously informed the Ensign that you were my friend, and I clearly have too good a taste in friends to pick someone who would fall for such an obvious ruse, thus, that particular hazing was doomed from the sort. I'll try the bit with the salt and the tuning fork later," He sits down, "Operations has more chairs then Security," he notes.

"We handle our own requisitions, Lieutenant," the Bajoran notes, "I have three unused offices /full/ of chairs. It's a secret passed down from Operations Manager to Operations Manager. Sometimes we tell Engineering during our inter-department card games. It's the source of a good deal of laughter." He allows a small pause before noting. "Request a chair for Security. See how far it gets." It's a dare. Glancing then to Dovoro, he offers a nod of greeting a small smile. "My usual routine is to ask after your posts since the Academy. If you've had any, of course. I haven't had the chance to read your Service Record. I was informed you were coming about around about the time I was on an away mission yesterday. Been a touch busy."

Dovoro

Secure In His Masculinity

Sat Mar 01

"No. Really. I encourage formality in its place. But I also understand that I am not among my culture anymore. So long as people allow me to give them the use of my name before calling me Kusto -- and I have for Nathan, and now for you -- my cultural taboos are observed. And I can better interact with those cultures less protective of their given names much more easily. My wife is Terran, you see. So I've had to make several concessions to her culture as she has for mine. This was one of them." Glancing up at the Chronometer, Havaris notes, "And speaking of my wife, if I wish to still have one in the morning, I had best return home. If you both will excuse me?"

Cristobal snorts and says, "I'll call you Mr. Medes. That's easier to remember."

Cristobal says, "Whhh-CH," and makes a little whip-cracking gesture with his hand.

Cristobal, as you can see, is the type that seems to court danger at every turn.

"I hate Mister," Havaris notes in all due sincerity, "it really does grate on me. I'll accept it in the course of duty, but nobody is 'mister' anything where I was born. So. Medes, yes. Medes Kusto. At least it will be, once I'm out of the service." Havaris then looks to Dovoro with a smile and a nod. "Goodnight, Kula. Prophets guide you." The whip-cracking gesture is lost on the Bajoran, it should be noted. He just gives Cristobal a strange look for a moment before edging away. "I'm going to ask my wife what that meant, Nathan. And then she'll come and beat you up for me." Sniffing haughtily, the diminutive fellow begins ambling for the doors.

Dovoro laughs softly. "Goodnight."

Cristobal chuckles and calls, "Goodnight," before saying in a clearly-audible aside to Dovoro, "Not that Thea's not intimidating or anything, but I've been in Lieutenant Poole's unarmed combat class with her." He shakes his head at the memory.

"I'll be holding you down at the time." Touche, Havaris. He has a pronounced spring in his step upon departing the establishment. Bwahahaha!

<OOC> Cristobal saw her rolls. That might not be enough :P

Gorgha

The more things change....

Sun Mar 02

Cerene turns to Avok and smiles slightly. She says in Klingon, "Oh, the Empire's reputation is still a strong one, the Dominion War did a lot to bolster our relations... one of the few good effects of the damned thing. But it is nice to have someone here who can speak authoritatively on the Klingon position, especially given the way things are moving right now."
Gorgha nods. He says in Klingon, "Yes, I'm a doctor not a politician."
Avok lifts his chin a bit. One eyebrow arches toward the ceiling. He says in Klingon, "Fascinating."

Medes

THE TRUTH COMES OUT!

Mon Mar 03

"Hullo," Poole says to Randal, greeting the man before giggling at Cristobal's new face. "/Very/ nice." She sets down her drink, wipes her slightly damp fingers off on her dress, then puts her hands to the side of her head and gives herself antlers, whilst scrunching up her nose and baring her upper lip.... /and/ sticking her tongue out. EVIL FACE.

Cristobal steps back, awed. "Ooh," he says. "Wow. I see why they promoted you." He pokes Randal's arm, "She's good."

Poole quits the evil face, smiling once more as she grabs up her order of apple juice. "Yes. They promoted me because I make the best faces. "

Medes

The Dignity of Command

Mon Mar 03

"Mum always said quitters never win," Poole states with mock-seriousness, "And I /reaaaaaaaaally/ hate to lose.... so...." She rolls her eyes back in her head, showing mostly whites as she let's her mouth slack open... little bit of drool trailing down her chin (and no one with a camera. /Damn/.) Zombie Poole sticks her arms out Zombie-like and rasps, "BRAINS.... BRAINS," in her best American accent.

Poole

Mucho Macho

Mon Mar 03

Into her comm badge, Poole says, "It's the day, Thea. Time to get fitted for our very girly dresses. You know. For the wedding."

From Poole's comm badge, Medes says, "Thank you, Gwen. Thank you very. Very much. I appreciate that. Just for that, I hoard my Delavian chocolates all to myself. Yes. I will be down to Jiasha's to get fitted for my... " mumblemumblemumblesomethingaboutadress "... for the wedding."

Into her comm badge, Poole laughs. "Good.... I'll meet you there in a short while?"

From Poole's comm badge, Medes's reply is exasperated as one can only be exasperated with a close friend. Damn you for your declaration of my girly dress in front of fellow Engineers! Damn you! "Yes, Gwen. I think it's safe to say I'll be... leaving Engineering directly now. Thank you much. I haven't been so embarassed here since your fiance started going on about Romulan stamina in main Engineering." Pause, then a sweet-voiced, "Medes out!

Poole

Such a Tart

Mon Mar 03

Into her comm badge, Poole says, "I don't think that'd be a wise thing for me to do... not tonight... Me and bars are a bad combination... when mixed with anger. I refuse to make an ass of myself the first week I get my second filled pip back."

From Poole's comm badge, Nevaren says, "Uh, okay. *a pause* I'll see you later then."

Into her comm badge, Poole says, "Not too much later."

Into her comm badge, Poole says, "I /do/ have some energy to burn off."

From Poole's comm badge, The sound of very tellarite laughter in the background spills over the channel, "Uh, yeah. Heh. Ahem! Love you, Gwen. I'll see you in a while."

Into her comm badge, Poole says, "And I love you, Nevaren.... I'll see you soon."

Medes

Family Support

Mon Mar 03

Medes answers, "It's all right. That's why I told you." She nods her head once as regards to the wedding. "I'm going to be her bridesmaid. I'll. Ah. Be wearing a dress." Pause. "In public." Another pause. "It will be made of silk."

Stewart thinks about this, looking very concerned indeed, and then says, "You could probably figure out a way to tidy that up a bit. Little bit of tritanium reinforcement. Add a few buttons, some electronics, it wouldn't be so bad." He grins slightly, adding, "But then, I think you'll manage."

Medes

Luck be a Lady

Wed Mar 05

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Gaming (Pool) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Dramatically Succeeds!
<OOC> Medes o.O
<OOC> Cerene says "Ooooooooooh."
<OOC> Nilee says "Dear lord."
<OOC> Havaris says "Medes clear table."
<OOC> Medes says "I DON'T EVEN HAVE GAMING!"
Offering Havaris an apologetic smile, Medes gently extracts herself from the lean, running a forefinger down his nose as she steps away to pick up a cue. "It was. And! Now it is my turn." She leans forward, eyeing the table for a second, and snaps off a shot. There's a nice clear shot available to her, but she decides to take the more complicated. Luck, it would seem, is with her, because the complex reaction of balls she sets bouncing off around the table ends up with one... two... three... four... balls dropping into the corner and side pockets. One of them's striped, the others all solid. Straightening up, Thea stares at the table. Also? She blinks. Twice.

Cristobal blinks at that. He takes a tricorder off of his belt to scan for gravitational anomalies near the pool table.

Nilee's jaw drops slightly, and he almost falls over as his hand slides down the cue that he was leaning on, he catches himself, fortunately, and he mock-glares at Medes, "I thought you were no good at this??"

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Gaming (Pool) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!
"I'm /not!/" Medes protests, staring at the table with an expression as astonished as everyone else's. "I... that's. I. That's some luck." Scraping her jaw up off the floor, she steps back from the table, only to find Havaris having gone to the Little Bajoran's Room. It's the one with the earring on the door. A step forward allows her to take another shot... which... succeeds. "I swear I'm not usually this good, Galen. I do."

Medes

Moment of Realisation

Wed Mar 05

Havaris can only chuckle mirthlessly with that and shake his head in almost bitter agreement. "If only it were a department. It's more like the roster where bad offers go to look good."

Havaris considers that for a moment, glances beween both of his company, and asks hesitantly, "You don't... think...?"

Medes

Frink's Stunt Double Gets Tough

Sat Mar 08

Collar still unbuttoned, Alarcon unfolds her arms, and grabs her crotch in a gesture reminiscent of the toughboys back at the Academy, as if adjusting the balls she doesn't, ah, physically have in a gesture of defiance. And then realizes that was sort of public. And straightens up, turning to thank Cristobal, Takamura, Turtledove, et al, in her politely sciency manner once more, clearing her throat. "Thanks."

Randal

Trek Wars, Ep 1

Sat Mar 08

From a distance, Magret isn't even looking at her PADD for translations at the moment. She's too busy staring at Randal angrily. Grrrrr. Because she's having her hair petted, she's not going to actually /pace;/ she'll just shift her weight indicatively from foot to foot. If I could, Randal, I'd be pacing back and forth in front of this force field glaring at you like I had a lightsaber in my hand and red and black paint all over my face. Grrrrr.
From a distance, <OOC> Magret <-- dork.
From a distance, <OOC> Isole says "Darth Maulgret!"
From a distance, <OOC> Magret says "Owwwww."

Randal

Golden Arches It Ain't

Tue Mar 11

Randal peers at Cristobal for a moment. "You've proven yourself to be a man who is at least as stubborn, and perhaps twice as annoying as I am, but I think even you have limits of decency," He says, in a tone that is remiscent of having called a bluff in a poker game. Randal picks up the cheeseburger and, after just a split second further of hesitation, takes a bite.
From a distance, That was the cue Cristobal was waiting for, "It's strange that after all the food you rejected, you choose such an exotic dish."
Randal chews the bite of food, slowly, and finally swallows it. "You know what? I don't care what it is. Because whatever it is, it's not oatmeal or Thai food. And it came from the replicator, anyway, rather than the haunches of some alien beast somewhere. So don't even bother telling me what it is. I don't want to know," he states resolutely.
From a distance, Cristobal nods and says, "Can do Mr. Thorne. He makes a note on his PADD, and speaks in a soft, but clearly audible, voice "Likes targburger with cheese," as he writes. "Enjoy your dinner Mr. Thorne," he says, walking towards the office with a familiar smile on his face.
Randal throws Cristobal a rather ugly expression. As the Security officer turns and leaves, there is the familiar humming and crackling sound of something striking a force field barrier. A targburger with cheese, by educated guess.

Churas

The King of Cool

Thu Mar 13

Zuh'raah'do looks the scene over, the blood not seeming to bother the old Nausicaan one bit. His eyes go to the severed head, the howling Klingons and, finally, to Stewart. "Good thing Starfleet added more security.." He says this to nobody in particular, then he strolls around the crime scene as best he can and continues on.

Tzannos

Human on top.

Thu Mar 13

Gr'laH says simply, "she will outshine us all. And failing at a lasting glory of my own, I can at least take pride in her. She may become the thing that cements the Empire. The Champion of Martok who nearly wept in clutching the head of B'val of K'mpec! Whose blade was broken upon the bat'leth of a dishonorable enemy! Who took up the blade of a fallen warrior and covered the floor with her enemy's entrails! /Poetry/ is written of such things! All of this, and a still young. Unmated. The virgin champion of the Empire." Gr'laH's grin broadens all the more. "Perhaps I am fanciful. But indulge an old man's whimsy."

Tzannos joins Gr'laH in the grin. "I would be cruel not to. And to think I passed up your suggestion of marriage at your table that day! It must have been the bloodwine clouding my judgement."

"She is a treasure, Iason. Perhaps she is not 'pretty' as the more 'civilized' races reckon it. But she is powerful. And strong. Passionate. Full of life. Beauty fades with age. You need only look to me to know that. But strength? Passion? Resolve?" Gr'laH gnashes his teeth. "They are forever. As the Ferengi say, the man who marries for beauty is investing poorly."

Tzannos says, "I don't doubt it for a minute. I've heard things about Klingon mating rituals, though. Things involving large rocks. That can scare a guy away, y'know?"

"Bah! One must be struck by a few stones to climb the mountain, Senior Chief! /BUT THE VIEW FROM ON TOP!/" Gr'laH explodes into laughter at that, throwing his head back with a belly laugh.

Foster

Oh Dear God

Sun Mar 16

"Sir..." Tap tap tap goes the busy bald Isobel. "...all craft are equipped with state-of-the-art disruptors -and- torpedoes. Each B'rel is comparable to our ship. The Warbird alone could take us on with a good crew--its weaponry is double that of one of the B'rel. If the Nausicaans hit us twice, solid hits, the fight is over." It's a flat statement, and Alarcon's not finished yet. "Even if we fully disable the Warbird, the B'rel stand a very good chance against us. Worse odds for us the longer the fight drags."

Lao's hands fly across the console, sending out messages to panels across the ship. "Prepping damage control teams, sir."

Medes

True Evil Never Dies

Sun Mar 16

The battle is not going well for the Starfleet Vessel and its crew. The limping B'rel barely manages to evade the fire aimed its way, but the Warbird and the more spry B'rel duck in and out of the phaser spread without difficulty. As they had the Klingon vessel before, they begin to circle the Thomas Paine, wolf packing the Brillian Class and nipping at its shields one hopeless volley at a time. Another blast of disruptor fire further drains the 'Paine's shields. It becomes, now, a point of question as to which they wish to keep going the more -- multi fire on their weapon arrays, or power to their shields.

And if that wasn't enough, another hail is raised on the Operations terminal. Harmlessly blinking amidst all the warning lights. 'Power levels critical' 'Shields at 2.' 'Weapon Systems at minimal charge.' 'Coolant Slush at quarter capacity.' 'You have mail!'

Medes

GLAVIN!

Mon Mar 17

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Impossible and Succeeds!

Alarcon is completely wrapped up in her own little sensor console world. She would look the part of the perfect mad scientist in the throes of just-pre-eureka ecstacy... had she the hair to be mussed. "Sir! I have it! The -Warbird- has it--a stasis field surrounding a Klingon corpse. The--" she blinks a bit. "--stomach cavity is split open." A look of pleasantly grim satisfaction slides its way across Alarcon's face. "And fingernails? Very dirty."

Haven

A grain of truth

Tue Mar 18

"A freak, stewpid." Remick blurts, instantly covering his own mouth in surprise at what he's said. "Remick!" Glemm scolds quite loudly.

Tulls little face screws up and he says hotly, "No! You are!"

Remick removes his hand, and balls his hands into fists, "Nu-uh! Yew are!" Glemm shakes his head, "I dun think we got a thing ta warry bout, doc. Seems ta me thay like each otha. Thay're already 'avin' 'yer stewpid' contest. Among males o' all species, thaas a sign o' frien'ship." He pauses to look at Lao with a smile, "Ain' it, stwepid?"

Lao nods to Glemm, and makes a very doltish-looking face. "You done got that right, sir, ayup," in his best Deep South accent. "But you's done be stupider than me, yup-yup-yup." He looks down at the boys. "And you're both stupider than me, yup yup yup." He looks like the village idiot in a Starfleet uniform.

Haven blinks and looks between the four males. "Dear lord," she groans, "I'm out numbered here! Security!" Then she shakes her head and laughs. For his part, Tull pokes a finger at Remick and says, "You are you are you are too!"

Remick sticks his tongue out at Tull, "Yew are time infinity!" Glemm smiles to Haven, "We'll 'aveta set up sum more play-dates, fer 'em, eh?"

Gr'laH

Like Father, Like Daughter

Wed Mar 19

Vor'mak strides in to the quarters with a barren, stoic expression on his face. His eyes dart from Gr'laH to Churas and back once again to the older Klingon. "I wish to speak with you, Gr'lah, son of Go'lah."

"You speak to me now," Gr'laH replies flatly in the midst of his stare at the Honor Guard, "so this is a wish easily granted."

Churas shifts her eyes briefly to Vor'mak, and then to her father, and then to the wall again. The viewport, you see, is far too interesting. It might distract her from getting her brood on.

Baring his teeth as they grind together ever so slightly, Vor'mak peers at Churas from the corner of his eye. "It is a matter that would best be discussed outside the presence of the child."

"Then perhaps the next time you state your wishes, you will be more explicit. For that 'child' killed the assassin of /your/ Ambassador, Honor Guard." Gr'laH snorts softly, glancing away to the wall. "I will allow you to convince Churas of her need to retire."

Vor'mak's eyes narrow in Gr'laH's direction before turning to Churas and silently imparting his demand.

Churas turns a flat stare from the wall to Vor'mak, hands folded across her stomach, waiting in silence. At Vor'mak's stare, she replies, "If you would like to ask Churas, Daughter of Gr'laH, to depart so that you may speak with her father, you may ask her, Honor Guard. There is no child here."

Vor'mak's fists clench. "Have you undergone the Rite of Ascension, Churas, daughter of Gr'laH? Have you felt the painstik against your flesh as you howled in pain? Howled in glory? I have twice. Now leave." More flies with honey? Pah!

"I shall once more do a thing that you should have done, Vor'mak, Honor Guard," replies Churas sharply as she rises from her chair, moving toward the back room of the quarters. "I shall retire." And with that? She goes.

Vor'mak snarls openly as Churas departs the room. Once out of sight, his snarl curls up in to a grin. "She is spirited. She directly assaults and challenges me." Turning back to Gr'laH, he adds, "You raised her well."

Magret

Centauran Revenge

Wed Mar 19

Isole hovers at the juke box, sifting through the selection even as Magret delivers the Centauran Death Blow. Which, Centaurans being pacifistic peaceniks naturally involves a lot of words. Even so, she very calmly pursues the business of perusal of the playlist. That is until she lifts her head and glances between Darax, Cristobal and Malloy. Her lips form a scowl, her eyes narrow, and she returns to her song selection with a hideous purpose. "Normally I'd tell you all to mind your own business. /Normally/ I'd tell you all how little I enjoy being mocked. It would, indeed, be a rare day that I let your staring and insinuations slide. But I just had a revelation. I hate the vast majority of you people and really don't give a damn." And with that she shoves some slips into the juke and hits play.

On her way to the door THE most annoyingly upbeat and mind-invasive song on the list starts to play. On repeat.

Twenty. Times. MUAHAHA!

Havaris

Flip a... Ah. Hrrm.

Wed Mar 19

"You honestly think they'll throw their precious Aegis at something like this? 'Too much risk', they'll say. 'We need her to be mission ready at short notice', they'll say. No. The Aegis will fly happily away from the fight as it always does." Havaris pushes back upright and tugs down his uniform a bit. "Someone needs to appraise the Commander."

"Aye... someone does. And don't weigh out the Aegis. If she gets into trouble, she has ways of... eluding danger. If needs be," Poole says, standing from the ops station.

"Who?" Havaris glances aside at Poole, expression -- well -- bleak.

"Flip a coin?" Poole asks, smiling as she moves to stand near Havaris.

"Ah. Hmm." Havaris pats his uniform with a bit of a grin, ending with a shrug. "The problem with a society without money."

Idrani

Historic comparasions

Wed Mar 19

Avok says, "Our forces are not /that/ badly depleted from the Dominion, and our shipyards have been operating around the clock since the ink was dry on the Treaty of Bajor. The outcome of the war is a given."

<OOC> Avok says "Sorta like... iraq."

Idrani shrugs faintly. "You've fought with the Nausicaans for the last hundred years, with fleets at full strength, and have not conquered them yet."

<OOC> Idrani says "Sorta like... vietnam."

Sovar

People Appreciate Vulcan Humor

Thu Mar 20

Randal chuckles. "You surprise me with your utter indifference," he comments, taking a drink from his own beverage.

Sovar looks back to Randal. "I must conclude that you do not know many Vulcans, Mr. Thorne."

There is a gale of hearty laughter from some of the traders near the bar.

Caeli

Priorities are in order.

Thu Mar 20

Caeli follows the unknown assailant of the two officers. If his foot recognition skills were any better he would be able to place the victims, but as it is all he can discern by the boots is that they are, indeed, Starfleet officers. Moving along at a brisk pace, back flat against the wall and phaser pointed ahead, he advances on Dryden, poking his head out every so often. As he catches sight of the trio, and the forcefield, he mutters a blessing in Bolian, and calls out, "Halt where you are and drop your weapon, or you will be stunned and taken into custody." A frown crosses his face. "Honestly, Ensign, you should be ashamed of yourself. What if your mother could see you now?"

Caeli

Take that, piggie.

Thu Mar 20

Caeli lays a comforting hand on Lao's shoulder. "Take it easy there, Pete. I'm not sure what happened, but Ensign Dryden won't be shooting anyone else for a while." He rises after this, and turns to Golden and Turtledove as he clips the recovered Type II to his belt and the Type I alongside it. "Situation is under control, Lieutenant. Though I think a call to Medical is in order." A bright smile at this. For all his bubbly happiness, the Bolian is no wussy. Just goes to show you how wrong Glemm can be.

Turtledove

I take that back

Thu Mar 20

Harris can't help but smile. "Computer, Starfleet Phaser II - circa 2293," he orders, hefting the old school phaser as it appears. "This... this is a weapon."

A gentle wind blows around the two Starfleet officers. Muffled sounds of conflict echo in the distance... voices in distress, things breaking. One might assume the default configuration has kicked in.

Turtledove quirks a brow, eyeing the weapon with a quietly amused expression. "Computer. Bowie Hunting Knife, circa 1840." Her eyes gleam in anticipation as the weapon materializes at her hip.

"I take that back," Harris states lightly as he turns an eye toward the noise eminating in the distance. "That's a weapon."

Havaris

It's... just... /wrong/!

Thu Mar 20

"Well, you often pin a boquet of flowers here," Kusto notes in tapping the left lapel of the jacket, "but you might be able to convince the Bride to allow you to sport your house insignia instead. Otherwise, you go without. Now turn around, won't you? I need to check the fit." Assuming Avok does so, Havaris grabs the shoulders and tugs them just so, smoothing out the rolls in the back of the jacket and giving its hem a bit of a tug. "Exquisite fit, Ambassador. Now. Keep it buttoned when you're standing or you'll look like a veritable slouch. You can ease it up while seated. Frankly, I'd have opted with a single breasted two button with your build. You look a bit like a block of ice with a scowl on top, but this is what comes of inadequate fashion consultation. You wear it well enough, that said." Havaris hops down from the chair and dusts off his hands, folding them up behind his back. "Haven't done /that/ since I was a boy."

Avok

Wrong show.

Thu Mar 20

Poole bites her lip with her eyes on Nevaren. She steps closer then and offers her hand, and says, so softly, "Hey there handsome..." Then her gaze moves to Capt. Dawson, her Captain on the Venture... her mentor, Kenobi. Different from Vor'mak, her Yoda.

Lux stands loyally next to Nevaren like a short, fabulously wealthy Chewbacca.

Medes

Hell. Frozen Over?

Fri Mar 21

Havaris steps away from Takamura's side to meet Medes, offering her his hands. "Oh, it was. A Klingon in a tuxedo, a Ferengi giving away Jewelry, Vor'mak smiling, Poole not kneeing anyone in their nether bits, and a recessional on behalf of the RRT! And, lest I forget, you. In a dress. And heels. And makeup." Havaris pushes up on his heels and glances around a bit before dropping back to his feet. "Sorry. I was just checking to see if there was a Cardassian hugging a Bajoran or a laughing Vulcan in the near vacinity."

Sulkat

An Arrest of Love

Sat Mar 22

Sulkat shakes his head. "I already sent a poem. One I wrote myself, naturally. But... I don't know if she liked it. I certainly can't... just... ask." He says that as if its an absolutely alien concept.

Caeli raises an eyebrow. "If you don't, she won't take you seriously. I find it hard to believe someone like you, with a career in Security, could be rendered so impotent by a female. I'm sure you'll be fine, just imagine you're making an arrest. An arrest of love."

Avok

Culture Clash

Mon Mar 24

<OOC> Churas says "Look, it's Vor'mak's chance to cause Churas a great deal of pain!"

<OOC> Avok says "Hence, pain stick. and not cuddly love stick."

<OOC> Churas says "Duh, Avok. Was just commenting on him specifically. ;)"

<OOC> Avok says "The Bolian Rite of Ascension uses a cuddly love stick."

<OOC> Churas doesn't want to think about Bolian love sticks, okay?

Randal

Rolling In It

Wed Mar 26

Solok pauses to consider, the thought of inspecting the salvage apparently tempting for a brief moment. But of course, a shipload of salvage material isn't nearly as enjoyable as when it's converted into latinum. For one thing, it hurts a lot more if you toss it gleefully overhead, and tends to be too pointy to roll in. So he turns to Randal and says, "Let's find the captain. It should be in order down below."

Magret

Ew.

Wed Mar 26

Solok eventually shifts tactics, letting himself bounce a /little/. As in, as little as possible, as he's not willing to let go of the handrails. After all, if he can bounce a bit, what's to say that he won't just keep falling upwards. He's determined to keep going, if only in the hope that there's some regular gravity up ahead. He looks about as happy with the situation as a cat in a bucket of water. Okay, maybe not that happy. Cat in a bucket of syrup.

Shaft

Practical Wisdom

Wed Mar 26

<CONTEST> Magret (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Transporter) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!
<CONTEST> Solok (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

<OOC> Solok grins. :)
<OOC> Shaft says "Last EP of the plot and everyone's tremendous luck takes a vacation. o.o"
<OOC> Randal says "Figures. Well, at least I haven't been shot. Yet. ;P"
<OOC> Magret :)
<OOC> Solok says "You'd better not get shot. You don't have a medical plan. :)"

Magret

Ferengi Politesse

Wed Mar 26

Oh, right. Everything under control, if you assume that the snarling, neck-snapping woman above is most likely on his team. Solok keeps ahold of the weapon for the moment, looking to be at a loss for what to do next. But then, of course, it's obvious. He leans up out of the chair where's strapped in and calls out, "In a situation like this, just how much looting is appropriate?"

Havaris

Head of the Class

Wed Mar 26

[After Havaris and Harris do less than impressively on a Starship Command test.]

Right. Havaris frowns his way through that particular test, clearly not thinking it his finest hour. He shakes his head at the end, chuckling softly in setting down the PADD to poke the submit button. "Well. That hurt. Let us never speak of this again and move on to Vehicle Operations. Shall we?"

Robert "I Served With Captain Kirk" Harris goes after the test with gusto. During the course of the test, he violates the Prime Directive twice, runs roughshod over Cardassian troops attempting to surrender, sets his phaser to kill one too many times, loses an away team, and begins an orbital bombardment of a civilian population center which was being used by the Maquis as a hiding spot. Looking smug, he submits his score... then blinks. "Sure..." he replies softly.

Cristobal

On holiday

Fri Mar 28

<CONTEST> Churas contests her Search skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

Churas, perhaps a little more wrapped up than she'd like to be in the fact that she's on a Klingon planet for the first time in months, keeps her eyes forward, following the directions given toward the Impaled Targ and drinking in the sights and sounds around her... well. So long as they happen to be, you know. Blatantly evident sights and sounds.

Caeli

Holy Dying Sideckicks, Batman!

Sun Mar 30

Into his comm badge, Malloy says, "Lieutenant, I'd like to ask you to get yourself a containment suit and join me here in the infirmary ASAP. We have an unknown infection here and I am not able to find whatever it is causing yet. I'd very much need your help in locating whatever the hell's causing it."

Lao looks at Malloy. "Wow. Holy bedside manner, Batman!" he exclaims.

<CONTEST> Caeli (claiming disadvantage) contests his Culture (Human) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

Caeli looks at Lao with a curious expression, made all the more curious by the incessant blinking. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Pete... is the infection turning Ensign Malloy into a bat?"

Medes

Must be...

Mon Mar 31

Gorgha smiles a bit and says to Medes. "This will help the heaving and aide you in sleeping which is what you need most. You can ask the nurses for another injection of this every 4 hours if they symptoms persist." He then checks her biobed to get her fluid levels. Makes a grumbling noise and taps a few keys. "I'm also going to up your fluids via an IV. You're dehydrated."

...

Medes smiles somewhat dopily back up at Gorgha. "Hee. I didn't know Klingons smiled." Oh, the sedatives. We like the sedatives. They make us happy. "O-kay, Doc-tor Gor-gha." ...

Gorgha pats Medes' hand as she drifts off. "We don't. It must be the drugs."

Magret

A Medic's Lot

Mon Mar 31

Malloy nods, taking the situation quickly in. Taking out a hypo, he approaches Magret, treating her with whatever he's got in there. Chances are it helps her, if not, it at least won't hurt her. "Alright, James, you help Magret, steady her...and maybe take the bucket with you. I'll take care of Isole." Taking a deep breath, he walks up to Isole, then, after putting the hypo away again, he carefully picks her up, pushing up from his knees instead of bending over. No need to pull a muscle. "Who would have thought..." he mutters to himself. "Other people first pick girls up, then carry them to the bed...and I pick them up...and carry them away so somebody ELSE can take care of them."
"Uhh, that's pretty disturbing, Craig." Stewart heads over to grab the bucket and pour it into the reclimator. "And if you don't mind, I'll leave the bucket. I'm sure they've got enough vomit in sickbay without imports." Once that's done, he heads over to lend Magret a hand up. "And don't worry if you throw up on the suit. I'm not the one who has to clean it."
Maybe it's the horrible joke. Maybe it's the nausea. Maybe it's just the fact that it's Craig Malloy. But Isole's reaction to being drawn out of bed and cradled against the medic is to wrap her arms around his neck, take a deep breath, and vomit onto his shoulder, against the faceplate of his EVA suit, and down his and her front.

Havaris

Hope Springs Eternal

Mon Mar 31

Haven steps from the lift, looking pale and weary but not sickly as so many others are. Her jacket is gone, leaving her in the blue turtleneck normally seen under the jacket. She's carrying a PADD in one hand and a cup of Havaris coffee (whatever it would normally be, can't remember.) in the other. She makes her way up to the command chair and offers him the cup. "Start with this, Sir. You'll need it."

Havaris sets his PADD down and scrubs at his face, nodding his head vigorously in agreement. "Yes." He takes the coffee and medicates himself. With coffee. Doctor's orders and all. "Talk to me, Loni. What's our status, here?" He takes a deep draw from the mug, eyeing Haven cautiously. She comes bearing gifts. Naturally, there's bad news.

Haven takes a deep breath and begins, swaying a bit from time to time. "I'm about to post a report that will remove Commander Balin, Lieutenant Ghorev and Lieutenant Poole from duty. All three are infected. Right now they have rimantadine in their systems but that's only slowing the infection. They /will/ move into stage four sometimes within the next 20 hours and that's being conservative. There is a bit of good news, however."

Havaris drums his fingers across the arm of the chair, nodding his head faintly at the bad news. He'd sort of expected that. Balin, after all, hadn't reared his head to offer any encouraging words. That is also a bad sign. He takes another deep pull from his coffee and eyes Haven more directly. "You have the vaccine and we'll be cured in ten hours?"

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