A post by Lieutenant T’lara Troi – CMO

After the long vacation Troi had spent on Vulcan, she now specialized in not only Starfleet medicine, but also had the opportunity to learn more about traditional Vulcan healing methods. Least to be said, it would come in handy eventually.

Knowledge is power, thought the half Betazoid and half Vulcan as she stood in front of the Sickbay. The door slid open obediently, as always. Taking a look around out of habit, Troi was surprised to find everything in sickbay was unpacked and organized with profound efficiency.

“Hello?” Troi called out with a moderate tone, “anyone here?”

“Doctor?” A male’s voice carried over from the inside of the sickbay.

Following the direction of the reply, originated from the interior of the office as the Vulcan had deduced, Troi walked towards the mysterious helper as she responded, “Doctor Troi is the name.”

Troi recognized the voice being extremely familiar, yet she was unable to bring out the name out of her memory bank. It, subconsciously, worried her as Vulcans usually had superior memories, and such recall failures did not happen often.

A young human walked out of the office, carrying what seemed as a micro-synaptic monitor in his hand. He was dressed in a medical uniform, and resembled closely as Troi’s previous medical assistant. The man walked toward Troi, smile broadened showing his perfect teeth, “Greetings, Doctor Troi. My name is Ryan Anderson. It’s a great honour having finally met you, ma’am.”

The Vulcan doctor resisted her attempt to smile using her facial muscles, as she observed the young ensign physically taking the effort to avoid a handshake. She simply gave a nod and appreciated how Anderson valued Vulcan custom, “A great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anderson.”

Troi paused briefly, and finally decided to voice her suspicion, “You must be the brother Brandon Anderson had been talking about before he left the Missouri, if I am correct?”

Ryan nodded, “you are right, Doctor. I will, as my brother did, have the pleasure serving under you.”

He smiled again, and handed over the synaptic monitor to Troi. “I have been going over your research studies on synapse, and how it might be able to control neural transmissions.”

Troi took the monitor from the human’s hand, and examined with curiosity wondering what changes had the young ensign applied to the device.

“According to your study, Doctor,” continued Anderson, “you mentioned a great deal about neuronal physiology, especially in the membrane signals which had been categorized into the graded potential and action potential.”

The Vulcan nodded, anticipating more report from her medical assistant.

“Graded potentials are the least understood as well as the least dominant when it comes to neural transmissions. The most important message I derived from your research is its decremental properties.”

Troi shook her head, “one correction. The decremental graded potentials are not from my studies. I simply used it as part of the supporting thesis in my research.”

“My apologies,” bowed Anderson as he carried on, “in addition to the graded potential, you used the basic properties of any action potential, such as the importance of stimulus, threshold, the ‘all or none’ law, propagation, and refractory period, to support your idea on the complexity in controlling the neural transmission.”

Unlike his younger brother of the Anderson family, thought Troi to herself, Ryan seems more confident and conversational in general. He did not blush the slightest when the Vulcan corrected him, but simply apologized and maintained his progress.

“Keep going,” acknowledged Troi, logically anticipating the next subject of the human’s speech.

Ryan Anderson nodded, illustrating his agreement, “basically, the only means of control on action potential is its frequency of initiation since the amplitude never changes.”

“However, chemical alteration of action potential development can also serve to manipulate the efficiency, such as by controlling the plasma concentration of your blood content,” added Troi.

“Absolutely,” Anderson replied, “such as Kalemia, which might risk renal failure.”

The Vulcan now was intrigued as to what her medical assistant wanted to say, after he provided her with a refreshment of what had been on her research.

“Anyhow, all the above had been proven to be difficult to manipulate,” the human continued, “but, I might have just found out a way to control the post synaptic neurons by using this new compound incorporated in the synaptic monitor you are holding…”

“Please continue,” prompted Troi as her human medical assistant paused to seek guidance.

“Aye, aye, doctor,” replied Anderson excitedly. He extended his hand towards the Vulcan, politely providing the cue that he would like the monitor back to assist his further presentation. Troi nodded and returned the device, similar yet distinctive compared to the majority of synaptic monitors.

“Now,” explained Anderson, “what makes this device so unique is this tiny button.” He flipped the small tool to its superior side, revealing a rounded dot in a size of a millimeter square. It required the Vulcan’s relatively superior vision in order to spot its existence.

The medical assistant smiled as Troi’s gaze landed on the button, “once activated, it would release a compound called amino colyne. This compound is structurally similar to the normal neural transmitters, but functionally highly manipulative.”

“Structurally similar?” the Vulcan raised an eyebrow as she questioned, “how exactly, if you care to elaborate?”

“Of course, Doctor,” replied Anderson. Troi’s question seemed to give strength to the young ensign. He now started to go into his full presentation mode, where his voice became that of a lecturer.

“Now, the common neural transmitter groups include amino acids, small peptides, amines or otherwise known as epinephrine, and acetylcholine which is most abundant among all the above. What amino colyne does, once released into the blood stream, is that it would diffuse into the vesicles, attaches to any type of the neural transmitter and take in their shape.”

“Does the manipulation operate on a competition basis?” inquired Troi, becoming more engaged on the proposal.

“Yes, and it does more than that,” answered Anderson animatedly, “by taking in the structure of the natural neural transmitters, competition certainly is hence induced. At meantime, it can be attached to the inactivating enzyme to speed up or slow down its degradation effect on the rest of the transmitters.”

“In other words,” paraphrased Troi with a nod, “the amino colynes, if developed properly, can have a secondary control effect on the enzyme degradation.”

“Absolutely!”

“Well done, Mr. Anderson,” complimented Troi, “in this case, let’s get to work. Hopefully, we can give the captain something to think about during our next mission.”

Working Better Than Expected
written by Jeremy Boatman
Lieutenant Jerek Lawson

Jerek’s hands flew across the board as he monitored the new drive. He was glad that the Captain was not pulling any punches on testing the drive. Though from looking all the warp jumps were having little to no strain on the drive at all. He had spent numerous hours pouring over the manual that was given to him while they were on leave. Even though he practically knew the thing inside and out it still amazed him at the sheer power and efficiency of it all.

As he watched he was getting the feelings of awe and amazement coming from almost all the bridge crew as they watched their ship all but dominate the situation thanks mostly due to the remarkable technology that was his alone to control. “Maybe this job won’t be so bad after all.” Jerek thought to himself as he again poured over the power readouts and diagnostic checks coming back on his console.

NRPG: Kinda short but just letting you know I was still here.

“Working Orders”

written by Lois Li and David Moody

Lieutenant T’Lara Troi and Captain Hashar Mor

Turning towards her office in Sickbay, Anderson said causally, “so, how was your vacation, Doctor?”

“It proceeded according to my expectations,” replied Troi impassively.

“I am glad to hear it,” nodded the medical assistant, remembering Vulcans disliked smart talks.

Troi tapped her combadge while following closely behind Anderson, “Troi to Captain Mor.”

In his quarters aboard the Missouri, Hashar stared at the spreadsheet displayed before him. He could not understand why it was so impressive to the Admiral. She had assigned him to the Missouri, confirming the decision that the now-deceased Admiral Dougherty had made. Though Mor had taken honestly and faithfully to the role of commanding officer, he had known somewhere inside him that Dougherty had been non-sensical in his assignment.

Admiral Dowi now, was saying otherwise. She gave him the charts and sheets that tracked his successes, failures and decisions whil aboard the Missouri for the past few months, and told him to Counsel himself. Dowi had told Mor to read the charts, understand why this assignment had to be his, and in his spare time, “Take care of that crew!”

The chart was sitting there on-screen, imperturbably mystifying him when Troi’s voice filtered into the room. :Troi to Captain Mor,” her voice told him.

Mor broke his reverie, flipped on the screen, and answered huskily, “Mor.”

“Good day,” greeted the Vulcan over the comm, “I have news concerning Commander Oehley, Captain.” The neuronal research, which was originally conducted in the hope of resuscitating Missouri’s previous executive officer from coma, started just a few months ago. The leading researcher was T’lara Troi. Accompanied by her assistant Brandon Anderson, only small progress was made. Now, Ryan Anderson, the older sibling of the previous medical assistant, might just have found the key to revive Oehley.

Waiting patiently for Captain Mor’s reply, Anderson turned to look at the doctor.

Wondering what was taking Captain Mor such a long time to respond, Troi said over the comm. system, “Is this a bad time to contact you?”

Mor did not sit up in his chair, but he had wanted to. He intstead fumbled around his the library computer interface as he responded. “Oehley,” he said dully. “You can revive Oehley?” Now, he sat up on the chair. “So you’ve got a way to repair that damage done in the Territories?” Oehley’s record began slowly to scroll across the screen. Mor paused on the last recorded holo of Oehley –

from the day the man had been assigned as Executive Officer aboard the starship Missouri.

Mor continued to listen to Troi as he left his his office and headed toward Sickbay.

Taking the time to consider what might be the result of the captain’s wearisome response, Troi tracked her thought to the visit of Admiral Dowi. The Missouri’s captain originally a counselor, was given the role of a commanding officer after the departure of Captain John Sasine. The exact reason was unknown. However, the Vulcan believed Mor was indeed the most suitable candidate. He had done an excellent job commanding the Missouri, and bring her and her crew home with one piece.

Without going off topic too much, Troi forced herself to consider about her captain’s wellness after the report.

“Captain, I cannot guarantee whether or not I can revive the commander. However, Mr. Anderson might have developed a compound that might influence Oehley’s present stasis state. It works on the post – synaptic neurons in the brain. We are unsure of what the exact effect of this synthesized substance will do in a human’s neural pathway.” Troi looked at Anderson, and was confirmed by her assistant’s nod.

“This new compound, created by Ryan, is called Amino Colyne.”

Pausing briefly, the Vulcan waited for Mor’s response.

Mor stopped midstride as he neared the turbolift. “I think I’m confused,” he said, stepping slowly to the tubolift. The lift opened and he nodded and gave an affirming smile at the crewman who exited. Once inside the lift, he said, “I thought you said you had some sort of key.” He ordered the lift to take him toward Sickbay and Doctor Troi.

Facing Anderson, Troi asked politely, “would you like to take over from here, Mr. Anderson?”

“Gladly, Doctor,” smiled Anderson. He then conducted an exaggerated bow. “Without going into too much medical detail, captain,” reported the medical assistant, “Amino Colyne works on a morphing basis in accordance to the natural neural transmitters in the brain. Synapse is the most efficient and feasible spot to control neural pathways. This synthetic compound controls it on a competition and degradation basis.” Anderson highlighted most significant points of the compound. He stopped and felt it being sufficient for his report.

Mor entered Sickbay as Anderson finished his report. The Captain nodded at Anderson, “Said thank you,” and to both, added, “get some simulations worked up and we’ll try once the procedure is more solid,” he told them.

“Aye,” Anderson replied as he left, heading toward medical lab one.

Mor continued the rest of the way into the room, and laid a palm on the side of Troi’s arm. “So how was your vacation,” he asked, changing the subject. He thought more dialogue would help them settle back into working together after the brief hiatus.

“My vacation was fine,” replied Troi. It was interesting that regardless the differences in species, people would inquire about one’s experience in the other’s absence. It was something Troi was yet to comprehend. Nonetheless, she replied with the equivalent question out of respect, “How have you been, Captain?”

Mor told her, “I’ve been fine. My vacation was makredly more brief, but I’, glad to be back in this universe,” he considered. He took a deep breath. “Visited my family by holobooth,” he said, remembering how un-like being there in person it had been. “Thanked and pawned over by a few people for an accomplishment that was the whole crew’s.” He leaned against the first biobed, and idly flipped open a medical tricorder as he spoke. “We’ve got a new mission, by the way,” he told Troi.

Surprised by the captain’s detailed report of his vacation, Troi was a little taken away by what to say. Seeing the captain had taken a medical tricorder from the table, the Vulcan replied, “Thanks for sharing it with me, captain.” She then asked, “Would you like a physical check, captain? Now you are here, we can get your next physical done.”

The Vulcan, eighteen years of age, was still inexperienced when working with human. She was still in the process of learning and adapting to the Federation’s environment. Her goal was being an efficient doctor and keeping the Missouri’s crew at their peak wellness. Nonetheless, after working with other species for nearly two years, she had come to realize that medicine could not cure everything. A doctor-client therapeutic relationship is also significant. Troi walked towards the captain and nodded, “so, what is the next mission about, Captain?” She knew almost all the Starfleet officers avoided physical examinations to some extent. The Vulcan hence changed the topic back to Missouri’s current mission.

Mor set the tricorder down, abashed at having been absently fiddling with the tools of Troi’s trade. “About? It’s about seventy-five hundred light years from here,” he told her. “We’re to be the Federation’s witness to the birth of the new Atlantean Monarch,” he smiled.

“Atlantean Monarch?” Troi raised an eyebrow, not comprehending the slightest. According to her mental bank, there was nothing related to this monarch. She continued, “is it something new from starfleet intelligence?”

Hashar shook his head, regarding the Doctor, surprised that she had not yet heard of the newly inducted Federation Member Planet. “Atlantea has been embitterly battling over the drive to remain independant and the drive to join the Federation for about a century. until finally, a few months ago, the reigning king, who had all the veto power, died, and the parliament voted for entrance into the

Federation. That regining king’s son is to come of age in three weeks’ time, and be crowned. We’re expected to be there,” Mor explained.

Listening attentively, the Vulcan nodded while mentally making notes of the mission. “Fascinating,” she commented as Mor paused briefly. She had heard some rumours on her way back to the Missouri, and didn’t think the ancient Atlantic colony really decide to apply for Federation membership. It was indeed a pleasant surprise.

“So, if I am not mistaken, our duty there is to congratulate on the new emperor?” asked Troi. She knew very little about this planet and its species. Nonetheless, she was fascinated by this upcoming mission, and expected interesting encounters.

The Captain warred with himself to to present the falling of the other shoe for a moment, then made up his mind. “We’re supposed to kidnap him,” Mor said simply.

“Slow Responses”
written by Robert Brazeau
Commander Kaaran

With the ship free from dealing with renegade Klingons, the XO’s job was more boring than she had anticipated. File this, check that, basically just acting as liaison with the crew.

She did her usual walk around, checking on the systems she knew first hand to be quirky. The problem with the gel packs having resolved itself, the final sorting having come when they were at the Starbase and they had removed every mother loving one of them, then replaced them with the current issue. Even then, they had subjected the packs to every possible and impossible situation they could come up with. So far, so good. Even at a 700% overload, they performed as expected, then they died, as expected.

The last stop on her walkabout brought her up short. The case holding Dr. Zees was open, inside was a funky smelling mess that resembled a skin and something else that she could not identify from where she stood, and the stench was too strong to get closer.

“Captain, this is Kaaran. Dr. Zees has, um well hatched, and I’m looking for him now. We need a medical team in his quarters, I don’t know if what he left behind is hazardous but it reeks.” She cast about in the room, finding nothing. She looked down, eyes narrowing. The fain dampish footprints left the room and headed down towards engineering. She dropped to all fours and followed, letting her nose guide her, the smell was different that the old Zees, and thankfully not like the funk in the chamber.

She turned the corner and found him, standing in the doorway to engineering, swaying gently in rhythm to something only he could hear. “Dr. Zees?”

The figure turned slowly. The Gorn was changed. Instead of the gray scaled older statesman she was used to, he was in fact larger by a third, and the coloration was radically different. His back scales were in a striped pattern, alternating from green to a pale yellow to a red, and his front was a uniform yellow green. Where his arms had been proportional to his body, they were now longer, and the taloned “hands” were longer, and looked far more menacing.

The head was nearly the same, except for the color of the now red eyes. His voice was far different, coming from what seemed to be the tip of the tail. “Kaaran, things are a bit different, now, are they not?” He seemed amused, and caught himself on the doorframe, the metal crumpling where he gripped it.

“Chief, um, what the hell happened? I mean, the third event usually makes you look younger, but excuse me for saying it, you look like something other than a Gorn now.” She hoped that it was, in fact, Zees, because the being was massive, probably topping 1000 pounds, and if the door frame were any indication, he could punch through walls.
“Actually, I think the damned stasis box was a trap, or a lure, if you will. Offer something amazing and get the Gorn to look at it since he can read Zacathian.”

He turned from her, “Computer, call up a full size hologram of a male Zacathian, full color holo, if you would.” The voice sounded like rocks rolling around in a steel drum.

What sprang to life was Zees as he now was, except the picture represented a million year dead race.

“Scares the dung outta me too, Kaaran. I find that everything works better, faster, and I am stronger than I thought possible.” He eased back into a sort of sitting position, using his tail as the third, and stabilizing leg. “But nothing else seems to be bothering me, just my balance, which I understand, because I am used to something more basically bipedal and upright. The Zacathian hologram was more hunched over, tail balancing the front.

Zees grinned, showing massive wedge shaped teeth. “Only real change is this.” He lifted the tail and a row of large spikes lifted out from it.

Kaaran thought, oh, oh, here it comes. Unbidden, the claws came out and she prepared to leap clear.

Zees dropped the tail to the deck with a thump, the spikes retracting as it dropped. Here movements had not gone unnoticed. “Relax, K, no evil intent here, just a very confused old man.”

“Simulation”
written by Lois Li
Lieutenant T’Lara Troi, Chief Medical Officer

After the brief, nonetheless fascinating conversation with Captain Mor, Troi returned to the office with the new piece of the mission detail in mind for further consideration and analysis. She entered as Anderson turned around from his simulations, “Doctor.” He nodded acknowledging the Vulcan’s presence.

“How is the simulation progressing, Mr. Anderson?” inquired the Chief Medical Officer, walking towards the laboratory section.

Anderson handed over a fully loaded medical tricorder, “I just finished the first set of simulations. Everything proceeded as I calculated.”

“Well done,” complimented the Vulcan doctor, skimming through the information with amazing speed. Troi continued the mental calculation as Anderson continued his report.

“According to the simulation results,” Anderson gave Troi a few seconds to finish and then carried on with efficiency, “a small dosage should be able to revive Commander Oehley.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at the imprecise comment, “it should be 5.5 mg in my calculation.”

Anderson was a little taken back by Troi’s emotionless and exact statement. Astonished, yet somewhat anticipating it subconsciously, he replied with a brightened smile, “Care to accompany me in furthering our progress on the simulation?”

“Indeed,” nodded Troi impassively, started to enter codes into the nearby computer console. Instantly, a holographic bed, and above carried a holo-projection of Missouri’s former executive officer materialized in front of the two medical personnel.

“We will limit the procedure under 20 seconds, Doctor?” said Anderson in askance.

Eyes fixing on the console, Troi swiftly read the initial readouts as she replied, “19.8 seconds in exact to prevent neural complications. We will limit the dosage to 5.51 mg.”

“Aye,” Anderson entered the configurations compliantly.

“All systems checked,” announced Troi impassively.

“All configurations entered,” Anderson mirrored the Vulcan’s tone of voice, smirking.

The Chief Medical Officer nodded and surveyed the controls one more time, “Inject 2.1mg of Amino Colyne into the vertebral artery.”

“Done. Vital signs stable.”

“Now, proceeding to the external carotid artery, injecting 1.0 mg.”

“Aye.”

Troi’s mental clock was ticking and warned her 9 seconds just passed, with 10.8 more left.

“Inject 1.3mg into the left subclavian artery inferior to the one third medial clavicle.”

Ryan Anderson’s response came in a hurry as the computer started beeping, “Doctor, he is going into neural – synaptic shock…”

“Ensign Miyagi”
written by Mike Royer
Lieutenant JG Oren ch’Thane, Shuttle Pilot 

ch’Thane’s antennae drooped slightly atop his head as he idly flicked his tricorder open and shut. From where he sat, on the open ramp of a shuttle, things seemed somewhat dull at this particular moment. 

A door opened somewhere in the shuttle bay and hearing the distinct sound of a dropped piece of equipment hitting the deck plating, he stood to see who was there. No one was visible, but the andorian heard some slight mutterings coming from a distant dimly lit corner of the bay. As he strained, attempting to ascertain the details of whatever was occurring, the muttering ceased and was quickly replaced by rapid foot falls, growing nearer. Soon a smallish human female in a science department uniform materialized, walking rapidly towards him. She had several pieces of equipment with her and appeared greatly encumbered by them. This had to be who he had been waiting for, for the past 10 minutes. ch’Thane decided to assume she was and was about to open his mouth when she spoke. 

“Sorry I’m late.” The human walked right past him disappearing into the shuttle, where he heard a slight clattering as she rid herself of the equipment. She then emerged again and stood before the waiting andorian. She was breathing heavily, attempting to catch her breath. 

“I hope you didn’t dent the deck plating on your way in. Should I have it inspected?” He enquired. 

“No sir.” She gasped, then added. “No damage… Well, I would have preferred to use an anti grav unit.” 

“An anti grav unit, what a novel idea.” ch’Thane said sarcastically. “Do you know where we keep these anti grav units per chance?” 

“No sir.” 

“Have you looked?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Aye.” He nodded, slowly and deliberately making his way past her towards the shuttle. 

Slightly puzzled by his sudden apparent disinterest, the woman paused considering the situation. Then realizing what he was implying she asked hesitantly. “Would… Would you be able to show me?” 

He spun around and enquired. 

“It’s ensign Miyagi. Correct?” 

She nodded, confirming his statement. 

“Ensign, I would be delighted.” The andorian rocked back on his heels as he spoke, giving himself a slightly childish appearance. 

“Thank you sir.” She replied. 

“Do you like being patronized?” He asked. 

“No sir.” 

“Then don’t be late from now on. This is a starship, not some after school club.” 

“It won’t be a problem.” 

“Good.” He nodded. “Now we have work to do, if we want to get these uploads finished on time.” The andorian turned as though he were about to enter the shuttle craft, but hesitated. “One more thing… Welcome aboard ensign.” He extended a hand, imitating human custom. 

Leaving one arm tucked behind her back, she reached out and accepted his gesture with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to be here.” 

“Yeah, A Lift Ride; That’s the Way!”

written by David Moody
Captain Hashar Mor

The starship Missouri’s third commanding officer stood in Sickbay, conferring with his Chief Medical Officer. “So, if I am not mistaken, our duty there is to congratulate on the new emperor?” asked Troi. She knew very little about this planet and its species. Nonetheless, she was fascinated by this upcoming mission, and expected interesting encounters.

The Captain warred with himself to present the falling of the other shoe for a moment, then made up his mind. “We’re supposed to kidnap him,” Mor said simply.

It was just then that Commander Kaaran’s voice came over the communications system, detracting form Mor’s dramatic and alarming statement. “Captain, this is Kaaran. Dr. Zees has, um well hatched, and I’m looking for him now. We need a medical team in his quarters, I don’t know if what he left behind is hazardous but it reeks.”

The Captain shot a quizzical glance at Doctor Troi, then clapped a hand onto her shoulder, hoping inwardly that the touch-telepathy of the Vulcan species was not as strong within her as it was for her fully-Vulcan forebears. “I’ll be down,” he surmised, “in engineering, it seems.” He turned to head toward the door, then turned and began stepping comfortably backward out of the largish room. “You guys,” he gestured at Troi and then in the direction Anderson had headed off in, “keep it up; let me know what your progress is.” Then, thumbing back over his shoulder, the trill added, “We should be getting underway soon.” The door slid open behind him and he winked at Troi, “What say we do it with a crew that’s not half asleep this time?”

Troi nodded, and Mor did the same in response, then stepped out into the corridor. He tapped his commbadge. “Mor to bridge,” he intoned.

The response was quick and high-pitched. “Bridge,” the woman’s voice responded, “Lieutenant Lexx reporting.”

Mor smiled, “Lexx,” he said, quickly searching his memory as he neared a turbolift, for what he knew of the woman’s species. The Flit lived on a low-gravity world and had, by nature, hollow bones. Only a series of density and strength supplements rendered their bodies as viable on Federation starships. Their wings grew heavier though, which forced them then to function as aliens on their homeworld, relegated into using biomechanical aids during flight on the planet. “How was flight,” he asked her.

“Same-same,” she admitted. “Everyone still loves me, misses me, and wants to fly with me again,” the woman told him. “The bridge is really nice,” she said.

Mor nodded, “Had her refitted. Sasine’s tastes,” he tested, “were . . . not mine,” the trill finished. A lift opened for him, and he stepped inside, remembering where it was that Kaaran had told him she was. She had not. “Hey Lexx,” he called, “where’s Kaaran?”

The flit told him, and he ordered the ‘lift to proceed to Kaarans location, where she apparently had found a newly awakened Commander Zees. The latter was a Gorn who had been Hashar’s initial Chief Engineer. Zees had helped Mor bring the ship back to starbase 416 all the way back (last year) when Mor had been merely ship’s Counselor. It had been wild ride after another, and Mor and Zees had had to galvanize the crew to bring the Missouri home. Then, Mor had been assigned as Commanding Officer by an Admiral that Hashar now realized must have been heavily intoxicated.

The first trip out, the Missouri had left known space, and a series of events had altered the command structure immensely. Zees went down for the count, having taken dormant in the Territories where the Missouri had encountered Malyn, then on the same voyage, First Officer Oehley had been placed into protective stasis.

Since then, it had been a series of parallel universes that the Missouri bounced around into and out of, until finally, Kaaran and Mor had boldly forced their way home by causing the destruction of a future that thankfully, now that they had made it home, simply would not exist.

The turbolift stopped, and Mor stepped out, tapping his commbadge as he went. “Mor to Kaaran,” he said firmly.

Lieutenant Commander Tavis Oehley &
Lieutenant T’Lara Troi
Sickbay

“The light!”

Exasperation jumped from Oehley’s lips as a dazzling flood of colours
wove in and out of sight, amorphous and ever changing.

~This must be a dream… Either that or the laviathan has some strange
new Holodeck…~

His thoughts trailed away as he allowed himself to be carried away
with the mesmerizing celestial shapes.

For hours and hours he fell surrounded by the glorious glow of the
warm, colorful hues, unable to form his thoughts coherently, ever to
slip in and out of whatever consciousness this place seemed to
represent.

~Wait~ he thought

~The crew…~
[Tag Troi]

A post by Lieutenant T’lara Troi (CMO) and Lieutenant Commander Tavis Oehley 

“Abort simulation,” announced T’lara Troi, the Chief Medical Officer of the USS Missouri.

“Doctor, I don’t know how that happened,” said the Assistant Medical Officer with confusion. “Everything seemed fine till the synthetic compound was injected into his left subclavian artery. I wonder…” The human’s sentence trailed off as his thought trailed off.

“I share your perplexity. However, I will have to do more analysis in order to specify the exact point of where everything went wrong,” replied Troi impassively. The Vulcan’s mind was racing.

Anderson nodded and went back to look at the simulation report on the computer. He immediately went back to full work mode, and engaged himself in the massive bank of data.

Troi walked towards the nearest computer terminal, and pulled up a medical record on Oehley. According to his medical history, which was not much ever since the incident with the Bogwraith, nothing changed other than the lifeless stasis that kept the Missouri’s former executive officer’s vital signs.

She then went through the chemical structure of the compound, amino colyne, in the attempt to figure out what might have gone wrong. The Vulcan said to herself in silence, Oehley, if you can hear me, please tell me how to revive you…

Lieutenant Commander Tavis Oehley &

Lieutenant T’lara Troi

Oehley began recalling names from the ship roster. They swam infornt of his mind, disallowing all other thought and keeping him from the light he longed to experience.

~Tovar Zees, Kaaran, Ayren Lexx, T’lara Troi, Hashar Mor…~

The faces permeated through his conciousness and in a climax of light and thought he heard a voice, faint but true, “Oehley, if you can hear me, please tell me how to revive you…”

~Revive me?~

The light disappeared. He saw nothing, and felt emptiness.

~What’s happening to me?! What’s really going on?~

He looked around himself, feeling the void, hoping for the voice to return. He hurried in all direction but still nothing.

~If I only knew what happened…~

Written by Lois Li

Chief Medical Officer, Lieutenant T’Lara Troi 

The Chief Medical Officer of the USS Missouri, half Vulcan and half Betazoid in genetic makeup, was silently questioning herself on the alternative treatments for Lieutenant Commander Tavis Oehley.

During the time T’lara Troi was on Vulcan, she familiarized herself with the art of the mind and further enhanced her inner mentality. Surprisingly, she also found an unexpected clarity and a newly established closeness to her Betazoid side. The meditation suggested by the elders served to clarify the woman’s mind, and advanced the surfacing of her buried telepathic abilities. Troi, however, did not have a chance to test her telepathy on Vulcan, mainly due to the obvious taboo and disrespectfulness. Freely probing people’s mind was prohibited by Vulcans under all circumstances.

Without going into too much philosophy of the mind, the medical doctor returned herself to the problem at hand. How exactly should she proceed to reviving her colleague? Utilizing the experimental compound was, after all, too risky. Being a Vulcan, she knew proceeding with a new drug, without an extensive period of testing, would be illogical when the safety and ultimate well being of a person’s life was involved; not mentioning this person was Troi’s colleague, and a friend.

Troi sighed, one hand placed on the computer console, another still holding onto the tricorder. Her eyes were closed, and mind blank. Sometimes, the half Vulcan found emptying the mind was the best medicine for frustrations.

Suddenly, the woman detected a distant voice in her mind; one that was weak, yet still distinctive enough to separate those from her own, especially in the case where her mind should be clear and thoughts should be put away.

Troi extended her mind to pursue the thought, and focused all her concentration onto the last trace of the faint message. She couldn’t make out what exactly the thought was or where it had come from; however, the sense of urgency and the accompanied background fear were clearly left behind in her mind.

Someone was trying to tell me something, analyzed the woman. She further examined the situation and came to a temporary conclusion. Someone who is not telepathic, but had a strong will to reach out from…

“From a state of deep unarousable unconsciousness,” said Troi quietly to herself. She opened her eyes, and commanded herself to come to the only supposition, “Oheley.”

The Chief Medical Officer walked towards the stasis chamber, and placed her finger on the button that would open the compartment, in which the Missouri’s former executive officer was placed for medical surveillance.

All of a sudden, a voice carried over the intracom. The women drew back her hand from the computer out of the reflex, and listened as Captain Mor’s urgent message came over.

“Captain Mor to Sickbay,” the Trill called.  “Commander Kaaran has been wounded.”

Troi could hear the heavy, yet swift breathing of the man as he continued, “I need an emergency transport for her to Sickbay.”

Predominated by the emergency situation, the medical doctor replied, “Acknowledged, on my way.” She walked away from the stasis chamber, wondering what exactly happened that could trigger the amount of urgency the Missour’s captain was displaying.

“Mr. Anderson,” she stated to her assistant medical officer, “prepare for emergency transport from Engineering. Commander Kaaran has been injured.”

written by David Moody
Captain Hashar Mor

Arkensen and Harris moved slowly into Engineering, phasers in hand. Engineering had been shut down; the engine core was now locked down with heavy forcefields cordoning off its diameter. Harris peered over at his lanky companion as the two made their ways stealthily into the darkened space. Arkensen quickly consulted the tricorder in his left hand while keeping his front covered with the phaser in the other. He gestured to Harris that they should head further in.

Harris followed Arkensen’s lead. They spread out and pored over every square foot of the room with phasers and tricorder sweeps. Then, they heard a thump. It came not from within the room itself, but from the direction of the matter reactor. They turned as one, each adjacent to the other as well as the core. There, behind thick focefields was a creature the likes of which Harris thought he recognized, but Arkensen thought he might have, once.

Harris turned and began entering codes into the console behind him. He quickly sealed the creature onto the current deck. With the giant, bipedal reptilian now encased on all sides by a forcefield, the thick, olive-skinned Harris tapped his communicator. “Harris to Bridge. We’ve encased—“ He stopped short, uncertain how to describe the monstrosity. He peered at Arkensen sideways, then continued, “Something . . . in engineering; we believe—“ and he looked at Arkensen to see the man nodding lightly in agreement, “we believe we’ve caught the attacker.”

Mor had only just made it to the bridge when Harris’ call came through. “Good work gentlemen,” he said, not realizing that the back of his tunic had been torn nearly away. It now sported a large jagged seam, the telltale indicator of Mor’s apparent brush with an enormous set of teeth.

Aeryn Lexx wached the Captain walk by, and noticed the large tear that had been removed from his duty jacket. “Sir, your—“ She gestured to her own back.

Hashar turned to face her, still engaged with the situation at hand; all business. “Lieutenant,” he said noncommittally.

Lexx said, “Something tried to eat your uniform,” she said, her glistening wings tittering lightly.

Hashar nodded. “Thanks,” he said lightly, not quite yet taking in her meaning. He turned back to the blank viewscreen, which was simply a new habit he had picked up in recent months. Addressing the Security Officers, he said, “Get it into containment somewhere else besides my warp core if you would, gentlemen,” nodding at the empty air.

The “Yes, sir” barely done issuing from the audio emitters, Mor turned to an aft console. He quickly patched himself to Sickbay and initiated console to console audio/visual. “How is Kaaran?”

written by Alex Miller
Lieutenant JG Jektal Korr

Jektal Korr was mulling about the station when he recieved word that the USS Missouri had docked for routine repairs. He quickly headed back to his small room and gathered what modest possessions he had. As he packed, Korr reflected on his past. It had been ages since he had last been on a starship for an extended period of time. In fact, he realized, it hadn’t been since he fled Cardassian space those many years ago.

His emotions were a mix of apprehension and excitement. Korr was excited for this opportunity- it had been his dream job since he had come over to the Federation to be an officer on board an active starship. But then again, he wasn’t too sure how the crew would react to him. Before anything else, Korr was a Cardassian, and he was well aware of the love harbored for his race among the Federation. He would just have to prove himself, he figured.

With a sigh, Jektal straightened his collar, picked up his two small bags, and headed off down the corridor. Only a few minutes later he was at the hatch of the Missouri, and entering his new life. Once inside a friendly Ensign showed him to his room, where Korr proceeded to drop off all his belongings, and then head off to meet the crew.

“Hello everyone, I am Lieutenant Jektal Korr,” he told the crew when he met them all. “I’ve just been assigned as Chief Security Officer on board the Missouri. I am very eager to be here, and can’t wait to get to know you all. I hope I have a chance to do so before we leave the station. Anyway, I am not good with these speeches, so I will just have to get to know you all as we work together on the ship,” he said with a sort of nervous smile. With that, he walked off and slowly began to look about the ship, trying to learn the layout and design as fast as possible. After all, it was now his responsibility to
keep it safe.

NRPG: Can’t wait to play and get to know you all of you. See you onboard the Missouri! =/\= Alex

written by David Moody
Captain Hashar Mor

Mor turned back to Aeryn Lexx, and as he did so, he saw the strangest thing. A Cardassian entered the bridge. Reflexively, Mor tensed, although he saw that the man was in a Starfleet uniform. The Captain had heard of Cardassians joining Starfleet during the rebuilding of their homeworld, but he had yet to meet one in person. He listened
intently to the man, who announced himself as the ship’s new Chief of Security. The Cardassian promptly left, and Mor was left staring after him. The bridge pulsed back to life, the computer even seeming to have held its breath when the Cardassian entered.

Mor looked to Lexx, who was staring back at him perplexity. Her fear of the Cardassian was palpable. Mor nodded slowly to her, and left the bridge for his ready room. He quickly contacted Admiral Endoc about Korr’s assignment to the Missouri, which was officially documented in ship’s records. “Interesting choice,” he told the Admiral.

“And the right man for the job,” Endoc assured Mor.

Hashar nodded, thanked the Admiral, and cut communications, then contacted Sickbay again. As he spoke with Lieutenant Troi, Mor entered the Security Chief’s duty schedule into the ship’s log schedule.

written by Lois Li
Lieutenant T’lara Troi, CMO

The body of the Caitian materialized on the sickbay’s biobed, motionless. Her superficial damage was considerately serious. By the direct observation, without the use of tricorder, the attacker or whatever that had caused the current medical condition of the Missouri’s First officer, was unthinkably furious.

The two medical officers approached Karaan with tricorders in one hand, and another hand calibrating the settings of the biobed.

“Oh, my goodness. Who had done this to Karaan?” asked Anderson, more to himself than to the Vulcan doctor.

“Whatever or whoever it was, is none of our concern right now. Security will take care of the investigation,” replied Troi, concentrating on the tasks at hand. “Right now, our priority is to treat her, before her vitals are totally gone.”

Anderson agreed in silence, and communicated his diagnosis. “Internal bleeding related to possible impacts to organs in the thoracic and abdominal regions, evidenced by a vast amount of blood lost in epigastic region, right lumbar region, and umbilical region.” He then injected hypospray to increase the Caitian’s blood production.

“Systolic blood pressure at 80, and diastolic blood pressure at 40,” stated the Troi, initiating organ regeneration. “She is losing blood much faster than her body’s ability to produce.”

“Heart rate has dropped to 40 bpm.” Anderson mirrored the Vulcan’s impassiveness.

“Initiating bio procedure Beta,” announced the Chief Medical officer, “we need to get her vitals back to normal before repairing the damages.”

“How do we do that?”

“Watch,” the Vulcan punched a few commands on the biobed’s control panel, “and learn…”

Written by Lois Li

Lieutenant T’Lara Troi, CMO 

“Doctor, she is going into early fibrillation,” announced the Assistant Medical Officer, eyes fixed on the biobed’s monitor. The human was frowning and anxious to do something of significance.

Troi, the Vulcan doctor, calibrated the biobed’s setting with profound speed. Her fingers were flying through the panel in machinery precision. Time was running by, and the biobed beeped warning sounds and flashed cautionary lights.

“Doctor, if we don’t do something fast, we are going to lose her,” said Anderson, likewise keeping a close eye on the bio settings.

“Something is not right,” stated the Vulcan, “5mg of plasma catecholamines.”

“Injected, Doctor.”

One hand on the biobed’s calibration control, another hand hanging on her side, Troi was motionless. The room had grown silent, only vitalized by the subtle alarms from the equipment that indicated the present status of the Missouri’s Executive Officer.

“His heart is not responding to any treatments,” stated the Vulcan impassively, concealing all her underlying emotions. She inhaled deeply, hoping her brain could come up with a feasible and workable resolution.

“Doctor, can we manipulate the contractility?” said the human medical officer in askance, “it can force her heart to pump a larger stroke volume to the rest of the body.”

Troi considered the option and shook her head, “no, her heart is already too weak. Any attempts to exert additional force than it can endure will cause immediate heart failure.”

“Can we provide her with synthesized blood and artificially imposing it to circulate?”

“It’s an option,” turned the Vulcan away from the monitor, facing her assistant with a neural face, “however, the damage of her internal organs is too severe for it to absorb additional blood. All major organs have stopped working, including the lungs, kidneys, and,” paused Troi as the console beeped, “now the heart.”

“Doctor, there are no more brain activities. All systems stopped functioning. She is…dead,” stated Anderson helplessly.

Troi nodded, and stated to the ship’s computer, “time of death, 1803 hours.” She stopped and waited for the familiar beep of acknowledgement.

The Vulcan walked away from the biobed, hands behind her back. “Doctor Troi to Captain Mor…”

written by David Moody
Captain Hashar Mor

This was the second time Doctor Troi had contacted him within the last ten minutes, and so he had a reflexive surge of joy. He had imagined for a moment that Troi had been mistaken, and that Kaaran’s time of death had been some sort of grevious error. He thumbed his commbadge in that moment. “Mor,” he said, full of brief hope.

Troi clearly and succinctly explained to him that Commander Oehley had emerged from stasis of his own volition. The trill’s mouth simply hung open for a moment, and then, for some strange reason, he had laughed.

The Doctor expressed her concern over the Captain’s reaction.

It’s really funny,” the man said, “seeing how the universe works.” He envisioned meeting a newly awakened Commander Tavis Oehley in Sickbay and explaining to him what had happened since last he was awake. Mor was also interested in offering the man his old job back.

Oehley had been removed from the position by circumstance. A few months back, Oehley had taken an away team jaunt to the interior of an enormous spacefaring creature. During the mission, Oehley, then the ship’s Executive Officer, had been infected by a virulent creature from beyond known space. As such, the characteristic of its bodily fluids was so alien that normal medical procedures to save the man’s life had been exhausted. When the medical staff had reached its limit of options, Doctor Troi had placed the man in stasis in order to prolong the man’s life until they understood the nature of his infection better.

Today, which was month’s later, an unknown creature had attacked Kaaran, the ship’s Catian Executive Officer. She was injured – fatally.

And now, Tavis had decided to simply wake up, it seemed. Mor headed to Sickbay.

“Security Report”
Written by Alex Miller
Lieutenant-JG Jektal Korr

“Good shot crewman.” Jektal said, standing at the edge of a Federation accuracy range. Korr had been on the holodeck for a few hours already, analyzing and testing the crewmen on his security force. Taking his new office seriously, he wanted to submit a full-length security report to the Captain within 48 hours of his arrival on the Missouri.

Korr had the computer summarize the results from the holodeck and began to add them to his tactical report as he walked down the corridor to the brig.  He had been notified of a prisoner, one who had attacked more than one member of the crew recently. Turning the corner into the brig, he immediately saw the massive creature being held in one of the cells. Korr approached the cell, and hands behind his back, calmly looked the attacker up and down. He silently noted a few things in his datapad, and headed back out of the brig without saying anything, even to the guard on duty.

Jektal headed to the lift. “Bridge,” he said. Korr wasn’t due to be on duty on the bridge for another hour, but he had nothing better to do. Rest was somewhat of a foreign idea to the Cardassian. Jektal tapped his communicator as the lift took off. “Korr to the Captain. I would like to request an audience with you, when you have the chance.” He said. Jektal wanted to be able to submit his report for review before he went on duty. This would also be his real introduction to the captain, and he didn’t want to meet him empty handed.

As the doors to the lift opened, Korr stepped out onto the bridge. He took a few moments to finalize his report and suggestions for security improvements on his datapad, and then began to familiarize himself with the bridge security/tactical console.

“Maintenance”
Written by Mike Royer
Lieutenant-JG Oren ch’Thane

“What’s this? This chip set doesn’t look familiar.” The andorian pointed towards the open panel on the shuttle’s port nacelle housing.

Ensign Mobry followed his gaze. Trying to pick out what he was looking at.

“Where?”

“Right there.” ch’Thane leaned in closer so he was nearly touching the chips.

“It’s a new design.” The engineering officer replied, realizing where he was pointing. ” It’s a recent modification. A service bulletin came out requiring us to replace the old ones.”

ch’Thane nodded, handing Mobry a padd, which he promptly skimmed over before handing it back.

“How about the thruster backup circuits?” The shuttle pilot enquired. “You said you did some work on those too.”

“Right, I did.” The human replied, sealing up the panel in front of him, then opening up another one slightly further aft. He then handed the andorian a small cylindrical tool. “Go ahead and check the connections, you know the drill.”

“Aye.” He responded accepting the tool and peering into the panel first to see if anything looked out of place. Seeing nothing wrong he then reached in, his arm disappearing up to the elbow, carefully feeling about for the backup circuit housing. Finding it, ch’Thane pressed the instrument firmly against the housing and activated it, listening carefully for a tone. Hearing none, he then switched it off and cautiously extricated his arm from the compartment.

“Anything else I should be looking at, before we finish up here?” He said returning the instrument to the engineer.

“No, we’ve more than fulfilled the dual inspection requirements on this one. Just don’t forget to sign it off.” The man replied, whilst commencing an inventory of his tools to ensure nothing had been misplaced. The andorian nodded entering some information into his padd. ” Have you looked at #04 recently, the computer core is still acting up. It’s suffering power fluctuations when the navigational array is powered up.”

Mobry shook his head. “Thank you. I’ve got a couple systems checks to complete here, but I’ll take a look at it afterwards. Will you still be around in an hour or two?”

“Acknowledged. Yes I’ll still be here if you want me to duplicate the problem.”

The human nodded. “Great, yes that would certainly save me some time.” He then picked up his tools and entered the shuttle. “I’l be in here if you need me.”

“Aye.” The andorian replied turning away and walking across the bay to the shuttlecraft he had been working on earlier with ensign Miyagi. When he got there he found her, still hard at work, at the shuttle’s ops station.

“We’re just about finished here.” She stated, hearing his approach and looking up. ” I just need to check the integrity of the database and then we can move on to the next one.”

The andorian nodded. “Please proceed… If there’s nothing more for me to do here, I’l go get another shuttle ready for the uploads.”

“The Absent-Minded Engineer”
written by Jeremy Boatman
Lieutenant Jerek Lawson

Jerek barely watched where he was going as he kept his eyes glued to the technical specs on the new warp engines. He took no notice of the large sized dent in the bulkhead as he walk by still engrossed in his reading. He only stopped when he almost tripped over one of his haz-mat people who was just finishing cleaning a large spot on the floor.

He looked down annoyed at first but then began looking around seeing the damage to the bulkhead and various claw marks across the wall, “Did someone throw a party in here and neglect to invite me?” Jerek asked sarcastically.

Jerek listened intently as the tech who was cleaning the floor filled him in on the events that had happened in the last hour. He got over his shock about Kaaran and some kind of strange reptilian monster and quickly snapped into action, “All right people I want a full scan of the entire area this thing surely had some time to itself before being discovered. I don’t want anything overlooked the last thing we need is something to go wrong or malfunction because this thing slashed a connector or decided to eat a junction box. As the others began their checks and diagnostics Jerek walked out to where the new core was housed and began his own checks. It was going to be a long day going over all the systems but as he said they could not afford something going haywire when they needed it.

“Contemplation”
Written by Mike Royer
Lieutenant-JG Oren ch’Thane

His shift long over, ch’Thane watched silently from where he stood, several feet back from the security forcefield. When he had heard about what happened in engineering, he couldn’t resist the urge to see the aftermath with his own eyes. Always having had an inquisitive nature, the andorian now found himself in the brig observing what he suspected to be the ships former chief engineer, it was hard to tell though. If this was Zees, then why had he killed Kaaran of all people? They had always been so close. Additionally, why the spectacular transformation? He didn’t know very much about the gorn as a species, but the whole situation wasn’t adding up somehow and raised many questions. The creature on the other side of the forcefield was quite inactive now. If it weren’t for it’s menacing physique, it could have almost looked melancholy and troubled in some way. Wanting a closer look, he got his courage up and stepped closer, so that he was standing within inches of the forcefield. The shuttle pilot still wasn’t sure what to make of this. Was this the old gorn, or was it something quite different? There were still some rather large puzzle pieces missing in his mind.

~ You’ve seen enough.~ He thought to himself, still peering into the cell at the enormous creature. ~ There’s no point in standing here any longer. Whoever or whatever he is, let him have some peace.~ Slowly turning around, ch’Thane nodded to the brig officer on duty, before making his way out into the corridor en route to nowhere in particular. He was in no rush and continued to ponder as he walked, his pace slowing every now and then when he came to a particularly interesting thought. The andorian was just rounding a corner, when he suddenly heard a gasp and noticed a blur of movement in his peripheral vision. Instinctively reaching out, before he could look up to see who was there, he grabbed the person who was about to run into him at the same time feeling their hands in turn pushing against his shoulders. They both came to a dead stop and he looked up to see who it was, coming face to face with the ensign from stellar cartography that he had been working with in the shuttle bay earlier that day.

” You again?” ch’Thane blurted out in surprise.

” Sorry sir.” She grimaced in return. The lieutanant’s antennae twitched as he chewed over what had just happened, still coming back to reality.

” No.” He paused, regaining his composure. ” I’m the one who should be sorry… I should have been looking where I was going.” He apologized, as they let go of each other.

She looked at him slightly confused, apparently still uncertain as to how to read his mood and level of sincerity in light of the andorian’s lack of facial expressions. Realizing this he attempted to imitate a human smile, to show that he wasn’t angry, but quickly noticed a grin forming on her lips as she tried to keep from laughing at the sight of the attempt. He immediately discontinued his efforts.

” Where are you going in such a hurry ensign?” ch’Thane enquired, feeling a little sheepish.

” Just to the holodeck sir. I’ve got some rec time slated there and I want to make good use of it. Your welcome to join me if you’d like.”

” Thank you.” He thought for a moment. ” Maybe another time though. Enjoy yourself.”

” Aye sir. Have a nice evening.” She smiled and was off again leaving the andorian to his thoughts.

~ She’s certainly friendly.~ He thought to himself. ~ I guess I was a bit of an ass earlier.~ His thoughts turned back to the attacks in engineering.

~ I bet the new security chief has his hands full. All this must make for one hell of a first day on the job.”

Written by Lois Li
Lieutenant T’Lara Troi – CMO 

The Sickbay was a little bit of a mess, with medical personnel shifting from one station to another. T’Lara Troi, the Chief Medical Officer, was next to the newly revived Lieutenant Commander, who had been in stasis for the past few months due to the attack from a merely known species, called Bogwraith.

Without going into too much detail about the past, the Vulcan said with her medical tricorder scanning over the human’s body, “Commander, your bio signs are perfectly normal. All the internal organs are functioning within normal parameters. In addition…” 

Before Troi finished giving out her report to the former executive officer of the Missouri, she was interrupted by her medical assistant.“Doctor,” Ensign Anderson walked towards the Vulcan with a padd in one hand, “something looks unusual about his metabolism readings.”

 “Acknowledged, Mr. Anderson,” replied Troi while turning around from her physical examination of Oehley. “Is it something of harm to the commander?” “Not any I can derive from the data I have gathered so far, ma’am,” Anderson stopped one meter in front of the Vulcan, and passed the padd to the female doctor. “I will look through it once I finish here,” Troi took the padd and placed in her uniform pocket. The Vulcan nodded to herself, and placed her medical tricorder on the table. Looking at Anderson, the Vulcan said, “Ensign, I would like you to input the tricorder’s data into the main computer.”

Then, nodding at Oehley, Troi added while finishing up the diagnostics of the biobed, “Commander, I want you to remain in sickbay for the next two hours. I would like to run a few additional scans.”
 

“First They Arrive . . .”
written by Lois Li, David Moody and Mike Royer
Doctor Troi, Captain Mor, and Shuttle Pilot ch’Thane

Hashar heard Troi and continued into Sickbay, speaking to the
Vulcan/Betazoid Doctor. “I was wondering if you might run a few more additional scans on someone for me,” Mor said in the brightness of Sickbay.

Turning away from Oehley, Troi acknowledged the presence of the Missouri’s captain as she replied in an impassive tone, “yes, of course, captain.” She excused herself from the former executive officer, and proceeded towards Mor, wondering what was the task the Trill referring to.

Mor said, “Listen.” Then, he simply tapped his commbadge. “Computer location of Commander Zees.”

The succinct reply came quickly: *Commander Zees is not aboard the **Missouri*.

The trill cocked his head to the side and peered longways at the Doctor, assuming she had already caught on. He continued anyway. “Computer,” he said lowly, when did Zees leave the ship?”

*Commander Zees did not depart the starship Missouri*, the voice responded simply, after a brief whirring sound.

The entrance to Sickbay slid open revealing one of the ship’s shuttle pilots, deep in thought. He stood there for a moment and glanced around till his eyes came to rest on Mor and Troi. He walked towards them and stood patiently waiting to be acknowledged.

Mor looked over at the Andorian, and recognized him as the young officer who had reported aboard recently. He had had an eye on the Andorian for the Chief Flight Control position. Mor noticed that the man’s antennae, were edged outward, is if in some strange sort of examination process. “Mister ch’Thane?”

ch’Thane nodded casually to his superiors. “Captain, please pardon my interruption,” he said. Then, after the trill had nodded, he continued, “May I enquire as to what your impression was of the creature that attacked you in engineering?” He paused momentarily before proceeding. “Did it seem somehow… familiar to you?”

Mor shook his head, remembering the incident. “I’m not sure. I know it was wet, heavy, large,” he said, the moment of having been knocked off his feet resurging in his memory. He looked into Troi’s dark, compelling eyes, and for the first time, noticed the gentle tilt of her ears, a vestige of her ancestry. “Scaly,” he said, remembering.

“. . . they share information . . .”
written by Lois Li, David Moody and Mike Royer
Doctor Troi, Captain Mor, and Shuttle Pilot ch’Thane

A scene from a few months ago flashed in Captain Mor’s memory. When he had seen Tovar eat for the first time, it had been downright, gut-wrenching terrifying. The Gorn had torn into near-living flesh with bare claws and teeth. Zees had, it seemed, been considerate enough to compartmentalize his heating to hours when most other crewmembers were at their posts or asleep. The ship’s night-side crew would have been at work, and the day side asleep. Mor, however, had opted for a brief contemplative glare into the stars with a very large mug of espresso ready, laden with two fingers of foam.

The Captain had been well into the second finger when Zees had come in, ordered his special diet retrieved by the kitchen’s tiny site-to-site, and had begun eating. It had nearly turned the trill’s stomach.

The attack had reminded him of that moment, however briefly. His suspicions about the attacking creature’s nature strengthened.

=/\=

ch’Thane listened respectfuly permitting the trill’s words to sink and glanced briefly towards ships CMO, then back to the captain, collecting his thoughts.

Attentively listening to the conversation between Captain Mor and Lieutenant ch’Thane, Troi mentally went through what she had been so far informed of the incident. It was sudden, undoubtedly. However, onboard a starship, with the security forces on duty literally every second, how could an intruder have gotten aboard the Missouri?

Troi asked herself. Finally, the Vulcan decided to direct her attention on the immediate case, leaving the investigation behind for the security department.

She turned to look at the two officers standing in front of her, subconsciously erecting her upper body. Still in the mist of recovering from the death of Kaaran and the subsequent revival of Oehley, the Vulcan mentally brought herself together before offering her view.

“Captain, and Mister ch’Thane.” The Vulcan said while taking a tricorder from a passing by medical officer, “from the medical perspective, I think the attacker who had done such damage to Commander Karaan which eventually led to her death, was familiar with the catian’s physiology, knowing where and how to attack for achieving the most damage in the shortest period of encounter.”

The Chief Medical Officer paused, and considered carefully before continuing. “Could you give me a general description of the attacker?” she asked, looking at Mor and ch’Thane.

“Intriguing.” The andorian said considering Troi’s theory. ” I was just in the brig observing the creature and I got the strangest inpression that I was staring at commander Zees. It was more of an impression than anything, a sense of familiarity, but still. He continued. “Do we have even the slightest idea of where this thing could have come from? Or has somebody at least taken some genetic samples, to try and determine what it is?”

“It certainly can be arranged, Mister ch’Thane.” Troi turned to look at Captain Mor, “I apologize for not being able to distribute a medical team to the brig in an earlier time.” Knowing there was no need to explain reasons why the medical personnel was all crowded in sickbay, the Vulcan instead carried on with her medical report, “The damages to Karaan’s internal organs were,” she stopped briefly, considering an appropriate description, “massive.”

Something occurred to Mor. “Engineering,” he said. “They were in Engineering. Why was Kaaran in Engineering?” He looked from Troi to ch’Thane and back. Has anyone seen Mister Lawson?”

” . . . and they’re off!”
or, “Has Anybody Seen My Old Freind Jerek?”
written by Lois Li, David Moody and Mike Royer
Doctor Troi, Captain Mor, and Shuttle Pilot ch’Thane

“Has anyone seen Mister Lawson?”

The andorian shook his head. ” No Captain, I haven’t seen him recently. However I was in engineering a little over an hour ago and he was present. They have been quite busy checking over all the systems, to ensure that the attacker didn’t damage anything.”

Troi nodded at the lieutenant, mentally processing the new piece of information. Now, that is indeed unusual, the Vulcan thought in silence. Unable to contribute to the answer of the whereabouts of Lawson, the Vulcan simply waited and observed the Trill and the Andorian, apparently in deep thoughts.

Mor said, “Can we search internal sensors for some record of Zees leaving his stasis chamber?” As a Counselor-become-Captain, Mor was still not entirely certain of all of the recording and surveillance at his disposal via the ship’s LCARS system.

“Indeed logical,” agreed Troi, “we will need the chief of security to carry that out.”

” I’m no security officer to say the least, but I agree with Troi. Internal sensors should be capable of such a scan.” ch’Thane stated.

Mor nodded, then turned to the ship’s pilot. “Sounds like you’ve just signed up to be on that particular fact finding team,” the trill nodded. “Work with Mister Korr; see what you two can determine about the creature.” Then, he turned to Troi. “I’ll need as much information about the Gorn species as possible maybe we’ve missed something important about their physiology.” Then, he explained, “I’ve got a new Operations Officer to welcome into the melee,” the dark skinned trill said prosaically.

Troi nodded, “acknowledged, Captain. I will get onto it right away.”

“Aye sir.” The andorian nodded.

Mor watched the two turn to their tasks, and then himself headed to the bridge. As he went, he absently hummed a heroic tune, he had once seen in a 2D vid.

“The First Few Steps Aboard”
written by Katherine Regina
Lieutenant JG Katerina Savoy

As the ship’s hatch closed behind her, Lieutenant JG Katerina Savoy shifted the duffel on her shoulder with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. No matter how you prepare for this day, reporting for your first post is a daunting task.

Meeting up with a bubbly ensign, Kat was escorted to her quarters on Deck Three. She proceeded to enter the room and walked around, exploring her surroundings, putting away her belongings as she went. Taking it all in, Katerina thought to herself- well this is to be my home for a while- making a mental note to maybe replicate a few things to make it feel more like home.

Sitting down in one of the chairs within her living quarters, she remembered her instructions to report to the Captain when she was settled. Thinking about it Katerina said “Computer, where is Captain Mor?”

*Captain Mor is currently on the bridge*

Getting up, the lieutenant straighted her uniform and exited her quarters to find the nearest turbolift. Entering the lift, Kat watched as the door closed and she said “Bridge.”

=/\=

Written by Lois Li
Lieutenant T’Lara Troi

The Vulcan Chief Medical Officer nodded her excuse to Captain Mor and Lieutenant ch’Thane, and walked towards the computer console next to the examination table. Troi, being a Vulcan and always follow the conduct of logic, could not help, but still wonder what she had overlooked in the Gorn species.

Needless to say, there was little known of this species, thought the Doctor to herself while reading through the information with her usual efficiency. All the data stored in the Missouri’s main computer, was the accumulation of the past physical examinations Troi had done on the Gorn. “Doctor,” the voice of Ensign Anderson carried over from the inside of her office.

The Vulcan looked up from her computer console, and turned to the direction of the voice, “Yes, Ensign?” The human medical assistant stepped out of the main office, holding a padd in his hand and still reading its information while approaching the Vulcan. “I was going through the diagnosis of Commander Oehley’s medical examination, and found something of,” Anderson paused briefly, seemingly in consideration of a suitable description, “abnormality in his psionic readings.”

Refusing the desire to frown her eyebrows, Troi replied with a moderate tone, “Can you elaborate with more details please?”

“More details,” Anderson said with a guilty expression, “I have none. That is all I know.” He passed the padd into Troi’s hand, and waited for opinions from the Chief Medical officer.

“The psionic reading was elevated prior to the revival of Commander Oehley,” said the Vulcan while swiftly reading through the padd.

“Aye,” nodded Anderson expectantly.

“It seemed to be an external influence which resulted in this sudden increase,” turning the padd over back to her assistant, Troi continued while mentally examining the new diagnostic report.

“The time of the spike,” the Vulcan pointed at the padd as something suddenly came to her realization, “is coincident with the time of attack on Karaan…”
 

“A Widening Grip”
written by David Moody
Captain Hashar Mor

The doors slid open, revealing a bridge that was much more firmly crewed than it had been in days. There was actual bustle here while people worked in various areas of the bridge. The vast majority of the stations were manned. The air was alive and electric with energy as Hashar strode comfortably onto the bridge. The place had just been beginning to feel like home to him when the ship and crew had been returned to Federation space, and he had received a much-needed vaction. A different crew too, he saw. Many of the faces here were new to him. Several were fresh, perhaps only a year or two removed from the Academy. Hashar sometime saw himself as merely an extension of the ship around him; as an avatar for ship and crew. He wondered whether he should feel hobbled by the vast change in crew structure, or honored at having been given the fleet’s trust in the continuing field education of recent cadets.

The bridge sounded good too, he thought, taking the small steps from the ops station to the science station. The activity was apparent even in the air. If the ship had a pulse, then it had waned during the ship’s overhaul, and now it was back, growing stronger. Mor took the step up from the science station to the command platform, and turned to toward the viewscreen. The main viewer was operational, and granted him the sprawling vista of deep space. The view was eerily disturbed by the clawlike service arms, which curved down from above the view, and ended near the lower edge of sight. The arms though, were drawing back, in the process of releasing the starship back into active duty.

The Captain nodded at the ship’s new security officer as he headed toward the command chair, and followed the Cardassian’s eyes flick quickly to the turbolift door. Hashar looked back from where he had come, and saw another fresh face emerge from it.

“He Just Woke Up”
written by Tavis Oehley
Lieutenant Commander Tavis Oehley

Oehley, drenched in darkness, picked up a familiar noise somewhere in
the distance. One he had not heard in a while.

*Is that a computer panel?*

He began wondering lackadaisically about what he heard, picturing the
bridge, then his quarters. He began remembering his duty shifts and
the conversation he had with the Captain on his first day as XO.

“If I may sir, why is all of this happening now? And why did you choose me?”

“You`re someone who won`t claim to know the way things should be –
someone who isn`t likely to undermine me simply by virtue of
experience.”

*Practical enough an answer… I suppose*

He continued to strain to hear the far-of sounds that now began to
haunt him. They grew a little closer, something which he later
attributed to some change in him. In an effort to hear more he
strained, urging against his fatigue, willing himself towards the
sounds of normality.

As he fought he found himself growing colder. All the air he breathed,
the material he waded through chilling him, reminding him of skiing
trips on the holodeck, skinny diping in winter on Maleolon Prime and
having skowball fights in his parents’ back yard on earth.

*Remember,* he thought to himself in hope that the memories could drive
him further towards the sound and the source of the cold, *remember.*

After what felt like hours, he heard a faint rumbling or perhaps a
loud humm. The noise seemed to be accompanied by an uncharacteristic
light. A light which suddenly threw him headfirst.

“His bio-signs are normal”

Oehley heard a female voice, one that was familiar.

“It seems he… just woke up.”

“Reporting In”
written by David Moody and Kate Regina
Captain Mor and Lt. JG Katerina Savoy

As the turbolift doors opened onto the bridge and she stepped out, Lieutenant JG Katerina Savoy’s gaze met that of the man she knew to be the captain of the Missouri. Approaching him, she said, “Captain Mor. I am Lieutenant Savoy, reporting in as requested.

Mor had watched the woman approach, and listened to her, before processing what she had said and adding, “Afternoon, Lieutenant Savoy reporting-as-ordered.” He looked over her mustard-color-accented uniform, and realized that she was the final crewmember scheduled to report aboard before the ship departed this system. “Take a seat,” he told Savoy, gesturing toward the forward flight control station.

She looked confused for a moment, and looked from the flight control station to Mor, then toward the operations panel, and back to Mor. “Do you want me to take a seat at forward flight to talk with me?” She thought that perhaps he was confused himself, or had mistaken who she was for another officer. “Because otherwise,” she explained, “shouldn’t I be at Operations to the left of me,” she pointed.

Mor smiled. “Lieutenant, when I came aboard this starship less than a year ago,” the trill began, “I was ship’s Counselor.” He held his arms out to his sides, in a vaguely all-encompassing gesture. “Now look what we have.” He put his arms down. “Sometimes you’ve simply got to do what’s needed – not always what you expect.” Hashar pointed to the conn. “You do know how to fly a starship, right?” A lopsided grin crept across his face.

Listening to the captain’s response, Katerina mentally kicked herself for her uncertainty of the captain’s previous order. Adding a grin to her face in response, Lieutenant Savoy answered, “Of course, Captain.”

Stepping past him, she approached the conn and sat down. She was not the best pilot, but while at the Academy, she easily held her own amongst her classmates. Taking a moment to familiarize herself with the settings already in place, Savoy turned back to Captain Mor and asked, mirroring the captain’s emotion, “Was there a particular direction?”

Mor briefly turned toward the ceiling for a moment as if consulting some sort of information written on the overhead. Looking into the viewer, Mor watched as the last vestiges of the outpost clamps disappeared from the upper portion of the screen while Savoy piloted the Missouri away from docking proximity. He kucked his chin toward a section of the viewer, and asked the bridge at large, “Atlantea’s that way, right?”

There was no immediate response, so Mor looked around and caught Science Officer Lexx’s eyes. Her translucent wings flittered rapidly, and she nodded, a smirk on her face. Taking that as an answer, he said, “Well then, Lieutenant,” he addressed Savoy, “that way.” He pointed toward the section he had indicated before. “Warp six.”

“Security Update”
Written by Alex Miller
Lt. JG Jektal Korr

Korr had just finished a final glance over his datapad when the doors to the captain’s ready room slid open. “Sir, I have just finished the security report of the Missouri…I thought you’d like to see it.” He says straight to the point, handing his datapad to Captain Mor.

“I reviewed the tactical performance of all the security staff. Based on the recent circumstances onboard the ship, I recommend that we add one more training period a week for those members of the crew. I’m sure I have a few tactics that I can teach that you won’t learn at the academy.” Korr clears his throat and continues as he watches the captain skim his datapad.

“I also recommend a few small changes within the existing security routes onboard the ship. If you switch the routes of a few of the crewman, they will be able to reach their battle station much faster in the event of an emergency.”

“Other than that, the rest of my findings were small additions to the ship itself, things I know back from my days in the Cardassian armada. For example,” Korr points out, “If we were to slightly edit the shield signature as I described in my report, I believe it would boost shield strength about 5%.”

The security officer pauses a moment. “Well those are all the big
points…everything else is just minor adjustments to systems and such. I’m sure you don’t want to read through discuss all that right now.”

Korr waits a few seconds and catches the captain’s eye. “Also…. Well I just wanted to thank you for the chance to work onboard your ship, sir. I know the admiralty is responsible for my appointment, but I know you had to be alright with it. I’ve had, well, difficulties in the past with other ranking starfleet officers because of my, well, because I’m Cardassian.”

He stops a few seconds to try and guage the captain’s reaction. “Well I guess I just wanted to say thanks. I hope my performance onboard your ship will help assuage any doubts the crew may have about me as of now.” Korr nods his head and walks back out the door back into the bridge, where he takes position at his console. Jektal begins his regular set of diagnostics and schematic checking as the Missouri breaks from the dry-dock and takes course in space.

A post by Lois Li
Lieutenant T’Lara Troi – CMO

The Vulcan Chief Medical Officer sat in front of her computer console and enveloped herself with PADDs. She read one after another with profound efficiency and extraordinary speed; yet, the doctor still had no clue as to how and why the pisonic ratings went sky high prior to the revival of the Missouri’s former executive officer.

“Doctor,” a voice came through the outside of the main office, “I have finished the diagnostic records of Lieutenant Commander Karaan.” The human waited for the Vulcan’s affirmation before entering, and handed a PADD to Troi. T’Lara took the PADD and put it aside for later reviews. She returned her attention to the medical records with her left arm resting on the table, and the right hand holding the device two feet away from her eyes.

“Doctor, are you going to review it soon?” asked Anderson, the Vulcan’s assistant medical officer. “There are numerous superficial injuries on Lieutenant Commander Karaan.”

Troi looked up from her piles of PADDs, and raised an eyebrow, “it’s logical to be damaged in the dermis when engaged in hands on battles, Mister Anderson.”

“Yes, indeed,” agreed the human as he carried on with frowned eyebrows, “however, the injuries seemed to be originated internally.”

“Please clarify,” stated the Vulcan, eyes now turned to the PADD handed to her by Anderson.

“I have documented numerous types of skin injuries, distributed all over Karaan’s body,” replied the human in explanation. “For example, confluent lesions were found on the anterior part of the body, in the abdominal area superior to the umbilicus. The injuries were mainly originated in the dermis layer, with ruptured blood capillaries in prominence. The epidermis layer is only minutely damaged.”

“You are saying,” rephrased Troi while reading the report, “The injuries could be caused by the neurotransmitters within the sensory receptors, and from there extended externally to the epidermis.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” nodded Anderson as he carried on, “additionally, I found zosteriform lesions, still in their primary stage, on the posterior part of the body.”

“Along the nerve routes,” added the Vulcan to her assistant, as much as to herself.

“There are also significant distributions of purpura on the upper and lower extremities, all due to bleeding from superficial capillaries.”

“I see,” commented Troi, “although possible telepathic manipulations are possible for such extensive superficial injuries. The evidence is still insufficient to indicate the attacker has done this telepathically, not mentioning the tactical disadvantage in doing so.” The Vulcan stood up from her chair, and walked passed her desk towards the replicator.

She ordered a cup of herbal tea, and lifted up the mug. “If I were the attacker who had the ability to manipulate my opponent’s nervous system, it would be logical to disable the major organs such as the brain, the heart, the lungs, or the kidneys. Why would I attack the skin?”

“Good question, Doctor,” said Anderson, “think of this way. Skin is the largest organ in a humanoid’s body. It occupies about 20 square feet of a normal Terran, with some variations between species. Although it is not one of the organs to determine immediate life or death, the skin can reflect many health conditions of a patient and it is the most accessible and easily diagnosed organ. The internal organs are arranged in much more complicated ways in comparison; hence, they are harder to detect abnormalities originated from the central nervous system, such as that of the hypothalamus.”

“A health care worker can tell many things simply by inspecting a person’s skin, such as blood circulation, oxygenation, nutrition, and,” the human paused, seemingly to wait for the Vulcan to continue his thoughts.

“And nervous activities, such as sensory neurons manipulation within the dermis layer, but originating from the brain,” stated Troi, sipping her tea.

“Looking For Answers”
Written by Mike Royer
Lieutenant-JG Oren ch’Thane

“Aye sir.” ch’Thane nodded, glancing quickly back and forth from captain Mor to the doctor, to ensure that he was dismissed. Excusing himself, he then made his way out of sickbay in search of the ship’s new security chief.

“ Computer, what is the location of lieutenant Korr?”

* Lieutenant Korr is on the bridge.* Came the reply.

~ Well I guess the bridge it is.~ He thought to himself, heading for the turbolift. It was already full when he got there, so he waited, idely flicking bits of lint off of his uniform. The andorian paused, detecting something was amiss in his immediate viscinity. There was a strange buzzing noise coming from a nearby access pannel. He walked quickly towards it, all the while hearing the sound growing steadily louder and more shrill. Stooping down, ch’Thane cautiously removed the pannel half expecting something to blow up in his face, but no sooner had he peered inside than the noise suddenly stopped. A visual inspection of the circuitry brought no answers and he sat back for a moment a little puzzled, before closing up. Getting to his feet, the andorian detected a hiss and looked back towards the turbolift, just in time to see someone dissapear inside as the doors closed behind them. Sighing with annoyance, he made his way back towards it to resume waiting. Short of having the circuitry behind the pannel inspected, he couldn’t think of any reason why it might make such a buzzing noise, unless he had imagined it. He made a mental note to himself, to write up a brief report for the engineering department on the occurrence. Finaly, after some additional pondering, the turbolift doors slid open and he stepped in.

“ Bridge.” ch’Thane ordered, folding his hands behind his back and listening to the soothing hum that enveloped him, as the lift brgan to move. When the doors slid open again, revealing the bridge, he looked around for the security chief, but couldn’t see him anywhere. Instead, he noticed that the captain was now conversing with an unfamiliar female officer, who was seated at the conn. Shrugging to himself, he made his way over to the Security/Tactical station, to ask the officer on duty where Korr had gone. The man behind the console looked up as ch’Thane approached. He bore a slight grin on his face from eaves dropping on the captain and the new officer.

“ I’m looking for mr. Korr, have you seen him recently?” The andorian inquired.

“ Yes I have. He was here a couple minutes ago, but went into the captain’s ready room to wait for him.” He gestured towards the door and ch’Thane followed with his eyes.

“ Thank you crewman…” He paused appearing to consider something. “ How profficient are you with the internal sensors?”

Written by Alex & Mike
Jektal Korr & Oren ch’Thane

After Korr finished briefing the captain he headed over to the security console, punching a few final notes into his datapad. Sitting down, the cardassian entered a few bits of data quickly while they were still in his head. Lost in his own mind for a few seconds, he didn’t notice the andorean standing near him until he heard him speak his name.

“Security Chief Korr I presume?”

Korr quickly turned his head. “Indeed.” He said simply, offering his hand, a custom that had been driven into his head at the academy. “How can I help you?”

The Andorian accepted the gesture of greeting extended to him, returning the handshake. He was slightly surprised that Korr would make use of the human gesture. “Lieutenant ch’Thane.” He said, folding his hands back behind his back. “Captain Mor instructed me to work with you. Have you been briefed on our assignment?”

Korr looked a little surprised that he had not heard about this assignment yet, having just come from the captain’s ready room. Perhaps he had been so busy making his initial sweep over the ship that he had missed a memo somewhere along the way.

“No, I must say I have not.” He replied, still looking a bit distraught that he may have missed something like that. “I assume it is a matter dealing with the integrity of the ship?” He ventured.

“Aye.” ch’Thane nodded, proceeding to explain. “It’s regarding the dissapearance of our former chief engineer, Tovar Zees. Captain Mor wants to know if there is any possible connection between that incident and the assault in engineering. Some members of the crew, myself included, have noticed a certain…” He paused trying to decide on the right word. “A certain strange familiarity about the creature being held in the brig.”

Korr thought for a moment about the being he had seen in the brig earlier. He knew little of the event, having just come aboard, but was trying to learn as quickly as he could all of the details of the incident. This familiarity the andorian mentioned….this was something he had not yet heard about, and it intrigued him.

“You are saying there is something familiar about the creature? What exactly do you mean by that?” Korr questioned. “That this creature has been encountered before? Or is there something more amiss?” He said, letting his naturally cynical mind wander.

“It’s hard to say precisely.” ch’Thane replied. “It was mostly an impression…” His antennae twiched slightly as he spoke. “When I looked at the creature I got a distinct impression that I was staring at Zees.”

“Zees you say?” Korr repeated, a bit incredulous. “What would have caused a transformation like that, not to mention a loss of anything but what appears to be animalistic instincts.” He stated, remembering back to his analysis of the prisoner and watching him attack the shield of his cell in the brig.

“Has anything else appeared in engineering that you know of since the docking of the Missouri? Any unknown crewmen or workers?…” Korr traild off, knowing that he was asking a most basic question that had already been asked to most of the crew now. But with little else to go on, he figured it would be a decent place to start, at least.

ch’Thane listened patiently, considering Korr’s question even though he had heard it before. He took a moment to search the depths of his memory before responding. “No…I can’t say that I am aware of any such occurences.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. He was getting nowhere fast and needed to find some way to get the security chief and himself thinking on the same page. “ How difficult would it be to pull the internal sensor records for the past few days?”

“Hmmm” Korr wonderd aloud. He had only been onboard the ship a few days and already things were shaping up into quite a strange mystery. He wanted to solve this one as fast as possible and reassure any of the crew who may have been doubting his abilities or loyalties as a Cardassian.

“The sensor logs, hmm? Not hard at all to bring them up.”

The cardassian punched a few buttons on his console, bringing up page after page of logs dating back all the way from present to a week ago. He steped over a bit to allow ch’Thane space to stand and review the logs with him. “Here they are.” Korr indicated the logs with his finger, pointing across the lines. Lines that he already saw to be unusual at first glance.

Captain’s Log, Stardate 60665.18

Atlantea’s a weird puzzle. Starfleet desperately wants to understand the puzzle, so they’ve sent us on a rather strange mission. The whole thing with Atlantea started three years ago. We first observed them with cloaking holoships and stations all around the world. They were an archeologically interesting species, due to their primitive nature. In the long run, though, it seemed that there was something else going on. Starfleet noticed the first oddities during an international conflict. These people, living in huts of mud and hunting with spears, began to fight each other with energy weapons. One side was destroyed, and the other nation grew to encompass it. In a span of ten years, the population had grown far beyond 300% of the original two nations, and their ages of man accelerated greatly. Now, only three years after the first observation of a primitive humanoid species, we are on the way to greet their Ambassadors in their grand capital; a sprawling, majestic building made of mud in techniques that are baffling Federation scientists.

Then there’s the catch. We’re supposed to kidnap their burgeoning heir in order to assist them in joining the Federation, by keeping their people free from totalitarian royal rule. I don’t really understand how that works, but perhaps the science and operations departments can help with that. The Atlaneans, being an amphibious species, will need some special accomodations while on board, so science and medical will be strongly used.

The whole thing, to be honest, is pretty strange, what with the “kidnapping” and all. The indigenous peoples have a law that actually requires the death of this new “king”, in order to prevent the continuity of his verifiable bloodline. Starfleet would rather we find a way to make it appear so, while simply transplanting the child deep within the Federation. So really, I’m not sure how I feel about this, but we’ve been given a mission here. I’ll have to tread carefully in presenting the mission to the crew.

Mor turned from the window. “Computer,” he said, “end recording and encrypt.” Then, he headed out to the bridge. Oehley was there, standing in the doorway from the turbolift.

“Change Of Pace”
Ensign Alice Miyagi
Written by Mike

After slipping back into uniform, Alice packed her things haphazardly into her satchel and slung it over her shoulder. Swimming on the holodeck wasn’t quite the same as in the Mediterranean back home, but it was still a refreshing break. Unlike the real world, the water temperature was always ideal, the sun never burned one’s skin and there was no need to worry about stepping on an unnoticed sea urchin, or suffering any other significant physical discomfort. It was all ideal, which was nice most of the time, but did have a tendency to dull the experience.

“ Computer.” She said, adjusting her bag. “ End program.” The ensign watched as the sandy cove vanished before her eyes, giving way to the stark gray walls of the holodeck. After quickly looking around to remind herself where the door was, she exited through it.

Stepping into the corridor, Alice found deck 5 to be far from deserted, as various crewmembers made their way back and forth, some between duty stations, others going about more personal business. The human progressed at a leisurely pace, nibbling on an apple she had brought with her to help control her hunger. It wasn’t far to her quarters and loud snoring, originating from her new roomate, Ensign Lane, greated her upon entering the comfortable, though somewhat cramped, residence. Following a quick glance towards the doorway to the adjoining room, from which the racket appeared to be originating, Alice dropped her satchel next to a chair and quietly tread towards the replicator. Lane seemed agreeable enough, although they had hardly seen any more than 5 or 10 minutes of each other since reporting on board. This was the first time Miyagi had herd the loud nazal reverberations and she hoped that it was a rare occurrence, and not something she would have to continuously endure. Returning her apple core to be recycled, she ordered some dinner and proceeded to take a seat at the small table provided to them for dining.

~ I wonder how long it’ll be till I make Lieutenant JG?~ She thought to herself, taking a bite whilst trying to tune out Lanes deep resonant breaths. ~ Then I could have a set of quarters just for me.~ Alice was tempted to go roll the woman over, to try and quiet her down, but resisted the urge and continued to work at her meal instead, looking up every now and then to observe the stars zipping past the nearby window. Snoring or no snoring, it felt great to finally be out of the academy and doing what she had spent the past 4 years training for. Hell it felt better than great, the whole thing was still a little surreal. She was finally out amongst the stars, serving aboard a Federation starship, en route for some critical mission.

Alice sat back and took a swig of her beverage, savoring the thought. ~ I wonder what our mission actually is?~ She pondered.

written by Lois Li, David Moody, and Tavis Oehley
Doctor Troi, Captain Mor, and Commander Oehley

Mor turned from the window. “Computer,” he said, “end recording and encrypt.” Then, he headed out to the bridge. Oehley was there, standing in the doorway from the turbolift. The man looked alert and willing to return to duty, but he did look a little gaunt. The nourishing procedures of stasis were not quite perfect, and Oehley could use a good, hearty meal. Hashar’s face brightened at the sight of the man up and moving about, and stepped toward him. “Lieutenant Commander Oheley,” he breathed. “Good to have you with us.” Troi took a breath and glanced hurriedly about the room, which, for the Vulcan hyrid, was downright fidgety. Seeing that she had something to say, Hashar greeted, “Doctor?”

Troi nodded, “about Lieutenant Commander Oehley’s health status, he is ready to return to duty,” the woman paused to let the good news to sink in, and then continued with a voluntary inhale of breath, “however, there is something you probably should look at.” The hybrid doctor, with an impassive expression of that from a typical Vulcan, took out a padd from her lab coat and handed over to the captain.

Mor took the padd, and barely glanced at it, more intent on watching Oehley. As a Counselor for the prior bulk of his Starfleet career, he was attuned to the man’s body language, his posture, and the subtleties of his expression. Still watching Tavis’ eyes, he asked the Doctor, “What am I looking at?” He glanced to the padd, then to Troi.

“The padd contains the medical results from the lieutenant commander. Apart from being said in there, it is going to be somewhat tough for Mr. Oehley to adjust from being in stasis for such a long time to activities of daily living.” The exact reason for the former executive officer’s sudden revival was still under investigation. The Vulcan doctor had lots of medical analyses to go through in order to derive a reliable and evidence based solution.

Without going into too much detail, Troi wrapped up her brief report, “he needs to be monitored with a synaptic analyzer literally at every
second of the day. Until I can find out more about the reason of his recovery, it needs to be present and with him at all times to prevent
possible relapse of the illness.” Upon finishing, she handed a small device out of her pocket to the human commander. She looked at him and then to the captain, prompting for any questions.

“This is going to be fun,” Tavis remarked, running his fingers over the device. Neatly, he attached it to the side of his neck, feeling the pressure of the adhesion mechanism pulling gently on his skin. “I suppose we can’t be too careful.”

Mor took a deep breath, looking with wonder at Oehley. He had suddenly realised, “That’s the first thing I’ve heard you say since we were aboard Malyn. Are you okay?” The trill looked from the Doctor to Oehley and back. “If you’re are,” he said, “you’re right on time.”

“Then I suppose I am,” Oehley replied, glancing enquiringly at Troi, “I expect I will be breifed?”

Troi nodded with relief. Although the medical situation was not totally resolved, she felt a warm sensation filling up her heart knowing Oehley was now standing next to her, awake and alive. “Yes, of course. Would you like to get something to eat while I brief you?” As the Missouri sped toward Atlantea, the three of them disappeared into the Captain’s ready room.

written by Jeremy Boatman
Lieutenant Jerek Lawson

    Jerek took a breath as he finished tightening the last connector on the new junction box. He then keyed the activation code and watched as the power flowed into the box and seemed to be doing exactly as advertised. He then keyed his commbadge, “Lawson to Engineering how are things looking now?”

“Great sir we are up another five percent and brings us back into the high nineties again.”

    Jerek smiled well that is taken care of for now at least. “He and his crew had just spent the last 2 days finding out that while this new improved warp drive was completely kick butt it was not by any means perfect. While the drive was amped and far more advanced than anything running around at the moment. The power distribution had not been updated in quite some time. Jerek had noticed that there overall power output had mysteriously dropped into the eighty five range and they found that with the drive operational it was overworking the junction boxes and degrading the flow.

    Jerek got his people together and they redesigned the boxes by combining two of them together and putting more of them in areas of greatest power needs. It was time consuming and tedious but they were back into the green again.

   He was glad that they had found it when they did any more damage and they would have began having brown outs in various locations. He doubted that Mor would have appreciated the main viewer going all fuzzy during the middle of a battle or critical negotiation. With a slight grunt he pulled himself out of the crawlspace next to the science lab, brushed his hair back, and began walking back to engineering.

(NRPG: Sorry to be so quiet but I am back now and welcome aboard to the new guy!!)

written by Dorian
Lieutenant Commander Mortah Keren
Strategic Operations Officer

After the turbolift doors opened on to the main bridge and shifted closed slowly, a tall, well-built Klingon Lieutenant Commander walked out. He walked toward the third chair next to the Commander’s seat, and stood and looked around the room, nodding. The bold klingon looked out at the viewscreen of the blackness of space and noticed that this is truly his new assignment, onboard and intrepid-class starship. Looking around the room, he noticed the designations and that he himself had to use the main mission operation console behind the Captain. Mortah walked over to the ready room, pressed the chime button and waited to enter the room.

written by David Moody and Dorian
Captain Mor and Lieutenant Commander Mortah

Captain Hashar Mor was speaking in hushed tones to Doctor Troi in his ready room. He stole the occasional glance at Oehley, who was being briefed by the computer. He tried again and again to catch the man’s reaction, but there seemed to be none. The door chime sounded, and Hashar excused himself from the Vulcan woman and stepped closer to the door that exited onto the bridge. “Yeah,” he said simply, devoid of inflection.

Mortah stood vigilantly and pressed the chime button as the proud warrior looks around the Bridge and nods at the other Officers.

Mor’s brow furrowed, and he turned to Troi. Her face, as usual, was impassive, though he had begun to notice a slight dither of her lower left eyelid that indicated intrigue on her part. “He turned back to the door. “Yes,” he said, waiting for whoever was on the other side to come in.

Mortah walked in swiftly, and the broach he wore from his family’s house glinted in  the light.  He walked toward the Captain’s desk.  “Lieutenant Commander Mortah reporting for duty,” Mortah grumbled and stood straightforward waiting for the Captain’s acknowledgment.

From where he stood just inside the door, Hashar had watched the Klingon enter the room and head straight to the Captain’s desk. When the man addressed Oehley, who was at the Captain’s desk in a private, computer-generated briefing, Tavis did not look up; he was engrossed in the proceedings on screen. Mor cleared his throat, getting Keren’s attention. As the doors to the ready room slid closed, Captain Mor strode toward Mortah. “What’s up,” Hashar said blithely.

Mortah turned and nodded, “Nothing sir. I have papers from my last assignment and was sent to here.” The Klingon replied with a straight, emotionless look on his face.

Mor called on his previous hosts merely by reflex. He did not even realize he was about to address the man in Klingon when he said, “nuqneH,” he told the officer, his throat scratching from the guttural canter of the tones required for Klingon speech. “Welcome aboard,” he added. “You transferred on at the Starbase?”

Mortah paused and then nodded. “Yes sir.” He quoted. “My last post was on board the Intervision from the Tholian skirmish.” Mortah replied, and grinned.

Mor turned to Troi and raised an eyebrow. The Doctor walked over to Oehley, checked his cortical monitor, and then quietly excused herself from the ready room. Mor looked down at Oehley, who was engrossed in the brief. The trill gestured to the other side of the room, suggesting that Mortah follow him there as he himself went.

Mor gestured to the couch along the wall next to his decidedly empty aquarium, and sat at one end of it. As the Klingon also sat, he said, “The Tholian skirmish? We’ve been sort of — away — what happened with the Tholians?”

“Well, the Tholian assembly withdrew their accords with the federation, and suspected that the Romulans would want peace with us.”

“Sure they would,” Mor said. “They’ve lost their Praetor along with the rest of their government.” He thought back to the current events that were in the air just before the Missouri left Federation space. “The Remans had them by the neck, and they looked to us to jump in and help them out. So what happened,” he asked.

“The Tholians declared war on the Federation, thankfully with the help of the Klingons and some of the Romulans, the war only lasted a mere six months.

Mor winced. “War? We were just recovering from the Dominion — how many casualties,” he asked, his eyes echoing the silent pleading from his heart that there had been few deaths.

Mortah paused and nodded.. “80 ships.”

Mor’s head hung, and he stared at the cerulean carpet. “Eighty,” he said, doing quick math in his head. In an unconscious attempt to minimalize, he used the crew complement of his small ship, and multiplied it by eighty. Ten thousand, he came up with. “That’s a lot of people,” he said. “I wonder how many other Counselors have become Captains now,” he said, chuckling, in an attempt to alleviate the moment.

“Not many,” Mortah commented

Mor eyed the man, wondering if that had been a backhanded compliment. He did not know the officer well enough to understand his inflections just yet, but assumed the best, and carried on as such. Changing the subject he said, “Look, I’ve got to be honest with you. When they told me I was getting a new ‘Strategic Operations” officer, I had no idea what they meant by that. I don’t mean to be rude, but — what is it you do?”

“To sum the duties sir, i act as an advisory to the command staff as well as resource of knowledge and information, concerning hostile races in the operational zone of the ship. And as well with Combat Strategies and Tactical readiness.” Mortah quoted.

Mor whistled. “Wow, really? You’re invaluable,” he said. Then, to himself, he mused, “I wonder why we didn’t have one before?”

Mortah was puzzled, “I assume that you have a tactical officer on board?”

Mor shifted uncomfortably. “You noticed the Cardassian on the bridge?”

Mortah paused and looked at his Commanding Officer. “Yes..” Mortah replied.

“Jektal Korr,” the trill said. “This is his first ship, and he came on board at the same time you did,” Hashar explained. “You’ll find he’s very friendly,” Mor lied.

“That remains to be seen..sir.” Mortah replied, “What is my first assignment Captain?” Mortah asked with eagerness.

Mor quickly recapped. “We’re on the way to Atlantea to retrieve their child king per the government’s request,” he said. Gesturing to Oehley, he said, “First Officer Oehley’s been in stasis for several months, and he revived himself somehow. Doc Troi says he’s pretty much better, so he’s briefing himself.” Mor looked worried, and turned back to Mortah. “I think we’ll just let him do that,” the trill smiled. “Come on.” He stood, and moved toward the door. Mortah followed him, and the two strode into the brightly lit bridge.

written by Lois Li
Chief Medical Officer Troi

The Vulcan woman quietly observed the exchange between Captain Mor and the new officer, whom she recognized as the Strategic Operations Officer. The Vulcan noticed the frequent glances from the Captain to the Executive Officer, and reckoned it must have been triggered by Oehley’s lack of participation in the events surrounding him.

The woman decided to give the human some time before interrupting him for a reassurance check. It was not in the Vulcan’s style to interfere with her patient’s work. Troi was confident that her diagnosis and treatment were effective in keeping the man at his present health status.

After finishing her tea, Troi stood up from her chair. There was not much use for her in the Captain’s ready room. She nodded to Lieutenant Commander Mortah Keren, and walked toward Oehley. Without making much of a noise, she put a hand on the human’s left shoulder to gain his temporary attention, and quickly examined the status of the synaptic monitor. She nodded reassuringly to Oehley, and politely excused herself from the Captain’s ready room.

On her way to the turbolift, the woman already started mentally organizing her subsequent tasks in sickbay. Upon entering the lift, she said over the ship’s intracom, “Doctor Troi to sickbay.” The Vulcan waited politely for her assistant’s acknowledgement.
“Anderson here,” the usual and pleasant tone of the Chief Medical Officer’s Assistant carried over, “how was the meeting with the Captain?”

“It was fine, Ryan. How is the investigation with respect to the gorn species coming along?” inquired the Vulcan, impassive as always. As the turbolift halted, she stepped out and headed toward the sickbay.

“Nothing very promising to our case, Doctor,” said Anderson with a disappointing tone. He continued, “However, I do have the general medical report from the last physical session.”

“I will review it now,” the sickbay doors slid open, and Troi walked in.

written by David Moody and Mike Royer
Lieutenant JG Lexx and Ensign Miyagi

It was the first day of calisthenics class and Aeryn was not going to miss it. She had made up her mind weeks ago, when the class had first been announced. She had leaned in to read the text scrolling across the bottom of the desktop in her quarters more closely, the red light of the announcement’s letters flickering across her eyes. Lieutenant Thayok, a Vulcan/Klingon hybrid and the ship’s transporter chief, had elected to run a course in one of his specialties and passions. The course was to last six weeks, with a meeting twice a week. The twelve sessions would prove interesting, Lexx was sure. She pulled on a set of battle gear and made certain to trice her wings up in order to rob herself of the advantage of quick flight. If she were to learn the discipline, she would learn in in the manner intended, she told herself. A few minutes later, she exited the turbolift on deck six, and rounded the corner heading toward the gym. Up ahead a young human suddenly appeared around the opposite corner, coming to stand in front of the entrance to the gym.

Sensing Lexx’s approach, she turned towards her, a subtle expression of concern crossing her features. ~ I hope that’s not how we were supposed to come dressed.~ Alice thought to herself admiring the Flit’s battle gear, whilst feeling slightly inadequate in her simple white robes. She watched for a moment, feeling a little self conscious as the woman approached. The human knew next to nothing about Klingon martial arts and had signed up for the class on a whim to satisfy her curiosity. She’d never completed any formal combat or martial arts training prior and had little to no idea as to what to expect. ~ Stop staring you fool.~ She scolded herself.

Lexx slowed as she neared the human. The woman had looked with confusion at her gear, but then moved to cover up her expression immediately. Aeryn slowed to a stop a few paces away. “Hello,” she said, feeling her wings strain behind her as they tried to shift lightly, a natural emotional response among her species. “Are you going to the class?”

” Hi.” Alice replied feeling a tad sheepish. ” Yes I am actually.”

“I’m Aeryn Lexx,” The flit said said, greeting the other woman. “Communications,” she supplied. “Do you know a lot about martial arts?”

” A pleasure to meet you.” The ensign responded smiling warmly. ” My name’s Alice… I’m from the science department and this is actually this is my first real exposure martial arts.” She paused. ” Do you per chance? You certainly appear to be dressed the part.” Alice looked up and down the length of the taller woman’s body, the corners of her mouth twisting into a girlish grin.

Aeryn’s face felt hot, and her wings once again struggled lightly against their restraint. “I’ve been reading about Klingon martial art forms for . . ” she trailed off, pretending to be remembering, and added, “two weeks.” She tucked a thin brown finger of hair behind an ear, and counted off on her fingers, “Calisthenics, Mok’Bara, Tristip, Juran’ji,” she said. “The list goes on and on.” She looked down at herself. “I picked this out from one of the traditional forms; it seemed very Klingon,” she added, gesturing toward the plated areas.

The door to the gym slid open, and Thayok stood in the doorway. “I trust you are prepared,” he said, to the woman, who turned in unison. Several people were visible behind him in the gym and some of them looked towards the two new arrivals. After swiftly glancing back and forth to see if he had any additional students in the corridor, the Vulcan/Klingon disappeared back inside. Alice looked towards Aeryn, folding her hands neatly against the small of her back. ” After you.” She said, nodding towards the open door.

Aeryn smiled and bowed her head slightly as she stepped lightly past Alice. She moved quickly and lightly into the room, and watched as several students wordlessly began to line up at one end of the room. She followed suit and took up a position alongside them.

Following the others, the human found herself a place to stand near the flit, while she waited for the class to begin. She subsequently proceeded to look around, quietly analyzing the wide variety of participants present. Most of the faces were still unfamiliar to her, although she thought she saw a handful of crew members whom she had already become acquainted with earlier.

Aeryn was relieved that Alice had sidled up alongside her. She was in a sea of foreign faces, it seemed. “I don’t know anybody,” she told Miyagi, leaning toward her in feint of a stretch. Thayok himself was silently stretching in the front of the room.

~ Seriously? I wonder if she is new to the ship like me, or if it’s most of these people who are?~ Alice pondered following Lexx’s example and leaning in closer. ” Really? I thought I was the only one. How long have you been a member of the crew?” She whispered.

Aeryn leaned forward, shifted her center of gravity, and picked up one leg, stretching it out behind her as Thayok was doing. “I’ve been here since launch,” she said, arms lifting slowly in a arc that would take them straight out before her. “Ever since Sasine,” she added. “You?” Her right wing felt as if it might break if she held this position much longer, so she shifted her center of gravity, toying for a moment with the imminent constraint of artificial gravity.

Alice wobbled momentarily, trying to maintain her balance whilst imitating the stretches. ” I just got here a few days ago.” She replied focusing on the distant Vulcan/Klingon. ” Who’s Sasine… I mean, who was Sasine?” She imagined she must have appeared somewhat ignorant for not knowing, and wished momentarily that she had dug a little deeper into the ship’s history, but put it to the back of her mind. If this Sasine person was a significant part of the ship’s history, she wanted to know why and who they were.

“Second Captain,” Aeryn responded, straining mightily. She turned slightly toward Alice as the women twisted into a new position.

written by Lois Li
Chief Medical Officer T’Lara Troi

“Job well done,” commented Troi nodding to her assistant after reviewing the report, “very detailed, and also right to the point.” She handed the padd back to Ryan Anderson. “If there is nothing else, I will be in my office.”

“Actually,” taking the small data storage piece from the Vulcan woman, Anderson smiled with a guilty expression, “there is something I would like to ask you, Doctor.”

Elevating an eyebrow in her typical Vulcan expression, the Chief Medical Officer inquired, “Please, do tell.” She was amazed by the human’s interesting facial demeanor. Her Betazoid half sensed that the Assistant Medical Officer wanted something, and did that he did not know how to phrase it appropriately.

“I was wondering,” replied Anderson, looking into the eyes of the Vulcan, “could you teach me the Vulcan elder way’s health assessment?”

“What you are asking,” the woman paused for a second, “is the assessment without the aid of technology,” rephrased Troi with interest.

“Yes, Doctor,” Anderson smiled again, somewhat nervously, “I know you are very busy, both on duty and probably off duty too.” The human stopped for a few seconds before continuing, “I mean, if…”

Troi nodded. Realizing the human was asking her a favour, one of which she could easily offer, the Vulcan said, “no problem, Ryan. Meet me at 0700 hours on holodeck.”

Anderson’s eyes brightened, and his smile widened, “Thank you very much, Doctor. I really appreciate your time.”

“My pleasure,” interrupted Troi before the human went too far with his excitement, “now, go back to work.”

written by Lois Li
Chief Medical Officer T’Lara Troi

Time: One day later
Place: Holodeck

Troi, the Vulcan Chief Medical Officer, sat in a surrounding of dimly lit candles. Her legs were folded, and hands interlaced with the forefingers pointing upward. It was ten minutes to 0700 hours, and the woman had been in the holodeck meditating for the past two hours. She opened her eyes, letting her pupil slowly adjust to the dim room.

Unfolding her legs with moderation, T’Lara Troi ordered to the computer while standing up, “Computer, switch to Program Troi Medical Alpha 1.”

“Acknowledged.”

With smooth transition by the computer, the softly lit room switched over to a typical sickbay, only devoid of all the technological devices.

The doors silently slid open, and Anderson walked in, “Good morning, Doctor.”

“Morning, Ryan,” replied the Chief Medical Officer, “Take a seat.”

The Assistant Medical Officer looked around. With confusion, he asked, “pardon my slowness, Doctor. Where should I sit?” There was no chair in the simulated sickbay, but a simple bed.

Troi looked at Anderson with a raised eyebrow, “on the bed please.”

“Oh,” commented the human sheepishly while heading to the bed, “so, what do I do?”

Troi replied impassively, “I am going to demonstrate a few basic neural assessments on you. Watch carefully, and remember the instructions.”

“Ah, cool,” said Anderson, sitting on the bed with legs dripping on one side.

Troi handed over a padd, “read this while I go over a few important points.”

Anderson nodded and zoomed right into the data padd.

“There are twelve cranial nerves which are commonly assessed in a basic head to toe assessment,” stated Troi who headed to a medical cabinet on the left side of the bed. “We will go over the first six today, in approximately eighteen minutes.”

The Assistant Chief medical officer looked up briefly from what he was reading, wondering what the Vulcan was taking out of the cabinet. Troi seemed to sense the eyes gazing on her back, and said with an impassive tone, “mint.” She turned around, holding a small five centimeters tall by two centimeters wide bottle, containing clear and transparent liquid.

“A great way to test a person’s olfactory nerve, due to its refreshing and easily identifiable scent,” elaborated Troi, while opening the lid.

“Wow,” sniffed Anderson, “distinctive and definitely stimulating.”

Troi nodded, and handed the bottle to her assistant. “Any type of natural substance can be used to examine the olfactory nerve.”

“Cranial nerve two, also known as optic nerve, is tested by examining visual acuity and the internal structure of the eye,” continued the Chief Medical Officer, “for our teaching purpose, we shall skip this nerve because you have been trained with various methods in the academy.”

Anderson nodded comprehensively.

“Cranial nerve three, four, and six,” Troi carried on, “also named as the oculomotor nerve, trochlear nerve, and abducens nerves, are examined using the eye and pupil.”

“Aye,” replied the human, “I have learned about there in the academy.”

“One simple way of testing these three nerves is using the six principal positions of gaze,” Troi raised her right forefinger, “now, follow my finger.”

The Vulcan stood half a meter from Anderson. She started her finger in the midline of the two eyes and moved it laterally to the right, “imagine the field as a clock face. You are going to follow my finger at 2 o’clock, 3 o’clock, and 4 o’clock.” She paused her finger at 2 o’clock position, and then moved her finger back to the midline repeating the procedure for the other two positions. “On the left side, you will do the 8, 9, 10 clock faces.”

“Fascinating,” commented the human, “a slower, but definitely simpler way than using the tricorder.”

Suddenly, Troi’s combadge beeped. “Doctor, we have a medical situation in the mess hall.” A female’s voice carried over the Missouri’s intracom.

“Be right there,” replied the Vulcan. She then nodded apologetically to her assistant, “It seems that we will have to continue the assessment another day.”

written by Alex Miller
Lieutenant JG Jektal Korr

Lt. JG Korr rubbed the side of his face, a quiet sigh coming from the Cardassian. For some reason, this shift at the bridge had seemed longer than ever. He quickly shook his head to wake himself up more. Sleepiness had no place on the bridge, particularly when he was the ranking officer.

His higher-ups had been in the ready room for a while now, and Korr had been given command of the bridge. The Cardassian was a little unsure…not that there was anything particularly difficult to temporarily managing the bridge, but it was just the first time he had been given such a command. Korr slowly scanned through some reports at his security console, looking out across the bridge every few minutes, checking over the quiet room. He was almost obsessivly paranoid about making sure everything he did on the ship went as perfect as it could be. The Cardassian still felt a little unsure of the reception of his race onboard a federation cruiser, a problem he had dealt with since he had entered the academy.

“Sir,” one of the ensigns said suddenly, breaking the silence of the bridge.

“Yes, ensign?” Korr asked, still looking down at his reports.

“Well sir, charts show we should be entering the Quayar system momentarily.” He tells the Cardassian.

“And?” Korr replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Well sir, we aren’t picking up the system on any sensors.” The ensign informed Korr.

Jektal paused. “On screen,” he says, finding himself looking out across a black void. “Run a sensor sweep in concentric circles out from the Missouri, and see if you can pick anything up.”

“Aye sir,” the ensign noded, typing into his console. Jektal stood there in silence, looking out across the blackness of space. The security officer tapped his fingers on his chin, thoroughly puzzled. This was certainly something he had never encountered before.

“We found it sir!” The ensign yells out a few minutes later. “The Quayar system…our sensors show it to be 15 lightyears from where it should be….” He said trailing off, and Korr’s own face matched the young ensign’s puzzled look. “Shall we head in to investigate?” He asked Jektal after a few seconds.

“No…” The Cardassian thinks. “Hold position here for now…I will notify the captain when he returns to the bridge. The ensign nods and halts the ship. Jektal looks back down to his console and closes out a few open reports before looking back out into space. How does a star system move like that? He wondered, completely baffled by it. All these years in space, and there was always something new to suprise you.

written by Lois Li
Lieutenant T’Lara Troi

Two minutes and thirty seconds later, Troi and Anderson arrived at the mess hall. The Chief Medical Officer was mentally arranging her subjective questions. Upon entering, the Vulcan approached the officer who contacted her over the ship’s intracom.

“What is the problem?” asked the woman while taking out her medical tricorder. Her assistant approached from behind, and likewise took out the device.

Ensign Marisa, a science officer dressed in her usual blue duty uniform, answered calmly, yet her tone accompanied a hint of urgency, “Jason,” she looked over to the male sitting next to her, whose face was frowned in pain, “is experiencing excruciating abdominal pain.” The human stood aside, allowing room for the medical personnel.

While continuing in asking questions, Troi quickly inspected the male human. Jason, like Marisa, was in the science department. His face was red, most likely due to the pain. The human’s body was crouched together, with hands and arms covering his abdomen. There was no visible bone deformity, or joint dislocation which could eliminate any possible association with the musculoskeletal system. Mentally bringing out Jason’s medical profile, Troi recalled that the man had no family history of any gastrointestinal problems. Since he was a male, Troi eliminated the possibility of a cardiovascular accident since abdominal pain commonly occurred in female elderly with early signs of a heart attack, and Jason was a healthy male in his thirties. He had no known allergies to food and medication. The medical check up conducted two weeks ago reported all his systems healthy with no abnormalities found.

Anderson took out a hypo spray from his medkit. Troi nodded to her assistant, acknowledging the injection of pain killer. After two seconds, as the medicine carried through the human’s blood stream, Jason’s face visibly relaxed.

The plate on the table had left over of spaghetti, and a half cup of clear and transparent liquid, possibly water. “Jason,” drawing the attention from the science officer, Troi continued with a soothing tone, “what did you eat in the past 24 hours?”

The human erected himself from his previous crouching position, “I had steak and salad last night, a cup of coffee for breakfast this morning, and spaghetti and water just now.” He reached over to the cup, and took a swallow of the liquid.

“Who prepared your meals?”

“I ordered some from the replicator, and some from the mess hall cook.” replied Jason.

The tricorder beeped, indicating the completion of the medical scan. The report indicated a high level of sodium nitrate in the gastrointestinal tract, and muscle spasm in the small intestine.

“How much fluid intake did you have in the past 24 hours?”

“About three cups of water,” Jason answered after finishing the liquid in his cup.

Anderson stepped over to the right side of the science officer, and started scanning the food left on the table. He frowned slightly, “there is a very high level of sodium in the cup.”

“And the spaghetti?” prompted the Chief Medical Officer while shifting her own tricorder to the objects on the table.

“The spaghetti has the right amount of ingredients, none exceeding the daily recommended intake,” reported Anderson in a matter-of-factly tone.

While keeping her eyes on the tricorder’s readout, which indicated it was mainly water in the cup, the Vulcan inquired, “Where did you get this cup of fluid?”

“I got it from that replicator,” Jason pointed over to the replicator at the far end of the mess hall.

“With the spaghetti?”

“No, I got the spaghetti from the Mess hall cook.”

The Chief Medical Officer nodded, and turned to Anderson, “I would like you to treat his sodium nitrate level, and then bring him over to sickbay for a blood sample.”

“Acknowledged,” replied Anderson, helping the science officer to get up from his chair.

Turning to Marisa, Troi ordered, “I want you to notify the crew that the replicators in the mess hall will be out of service for now.”

The Vulcan then tapped her combadge, “Troi to Lieutenant Lawson.” She waited for acknowledgement, and continued, “can you please send down a couple of engineers to examine the replicators in the mess hall?”

written by David Moody
Captain Hashar Mor

Hashar returned to the bridge with Mortah Keren in tow. The trill moved aside in the doorway and eyed Oehley for a moment. “No rush,” he told the man, lightly applying pressure. He stood aside and let the doors close, then surveyed the bridge. Mortah had quickly taken up position, and Koor looked from one to the other as if he might burst if he did not speak. “Report,” Mor said carefully, understanding that something had changed. He no longer felt the faint susuration of the ship as it rumbled low beneath his feet.

The cardassian spoke carefully, framing his words succintly as he explained to the Captain that Jektal himself had ordered the ship stopped due to an error. This particular error was either a very specific intentional error of the ship’s instrumentation, or an error in the universe itself.

The Quayar star system was a triple star system, a science officer piped in. Mor was lost slightly after the eager young ensign explained that the system was tribary, consisting of two main stars with a smaller and dimmer red dwarf named Choth.

Hashar, moving to take the command chair, said, “Can we make it to Atlantea on time for the ah, meeting, if we divert for one hour to the new location of the Quayar system?” He asked the question of bridge at large, and after Mortah quickly replied in the affirmative, he nodded, and told ch’Thane was was standing in at the conn, “Let’s go, Mister ch’Thane. Give us enough speed to make the rendezvous.”

The Missouri leapt into warp, speeding toward a mystery of if not galactic, then at least system-wide proportion. That was still, Hashar mused, pretty big.

written by Lois Li
Chief Medical Officer T’Lara Troi

One arm crossed under Jason’s axillary, Anderson carefully brought him out of the tubolift, and headed towards sickbay.

“About your pain,” said the Assistant Medical Officer while looking at Jason’s red face, “does it radiate anywhere?”

Jason turned his attention from the ground to Ryan, “it radiates around my umbilicus and above.”

It confirms the tricorder’s readout, thought the medical officer to himself, “when was the last time you had a bowel movement?” Ryan started mentally going through the routine questions related to an abdominal assessment.

“Yesterday.”

“Any recent irregularities in its frequency, consistency, colour, or odour?” prompted the human.

“No, not really,” replied the science officer.

“Any irregularities in the frequency, colour, or odour in your urination?”

“No, not any I have noticed,” stated Jason. Both of them now arrived at the sickbay.

“Any other symptoms such as dysphasia, nausea, vomiting, change in appetite and weight?”

“No, nothing. The abdominal pain was sudden, and with no previous associated symptoms,” replied Jason, who was now brought to the sickbay bed.

Anderson walked over to the medical equipment tray, and picked out a small tube shaped device, very much resembling the appearance of a hypo spray. He then took a 1cm long and 5 mm wide test tube, and injected into the blood sample collector.

“I am going to collect a small sample of your blood, making sure it is alright and does not contain any foreign components or abnormal amount of usual chemicals,” explained Anderson while approaching the science officer with the device.

The Assistant Medical Officer put the blood sample collector on Jason’s superficial sleeve. One second later, after a polite beep, Ryan took the device away and walked over to the medical lab. “I will have your result ready in half an hour.” He then dismissed the science officer with the promise to notify him if any abnormalities were found.

written by Mike Royer
Lieutenant JG Oren ch’Thane

“Let’s go, Mister ch’Thane. Give us enough speed to make the rendezvous.” Hashar ordered from the command chair.

“ Aye sir.” The andorian responded, having been listening intently to the brief exchange between the captain and tactical officer. He now swiveled his chair to the forward position and immediately set to executing the order. It had been some time since he had piloted anything larger than a runabout and he plied the controls a bit cautiously at first.

“ Course laid in for Quayar star system. Engaging at warp 7.” ch’Thane reported, as the ship came to and he ran up the warp engines sending Missouri sprinting into warp.

Although the basic principles behind everything remained the same, being at the helm of a full sized starship was quite different from the various small craft he flew more regularly. The obvious lack of maneuverability aside, he felt further removed from the vessel he was now piloting then any other he’d flown in a long while. With all of the advanced technology the andorian had at his fingertips, it wasn’t difficult to imagine how one might forget they were flying at all. Here, he was as much a computer technician as a pilot. Inputting a great variety of commands and variables into the console before him and watching as the complex algorithms tweaked and modified them to enhance economy as well as performance. There was no arguing with the fact that the computer was capable of doing it far better than any humanoid, but this wasn’t what he entered flight school for.

~ Sometimes you just have to turn it all off.~ ch’Thane thought to himself, recalling one of his early days of flight training back home. On one of his first landings his instructor had become slightly irritated after watching several dissatisfactory attempts. “ Fly it outside!” The man had scolded him, reaching his hand across the cockpit and concealing the flight instruments upon which ch’Thane had been relying excessively. “ Stop chasing the instruments. If you can show me that you understand what’s going on out there, then you can look in here.”

The shuttle pilot listened to the soft pulsating reverberations of the ships engines, all the while scrutinizing the various readouts with which he was presented. ~ I wonder how you really behave without all this gadgetry? Should I find out?~ He pondered, cross checking their ETA at the Quayar system. Manually piloting any starship, particularly a vessel with which one had limited familiarity, at warp velocities, was a thoroughly bad idea. Even the slightest error and they would almost certainly be ripped to shreds, of this he was certain. ch’Thane found the stupidity of anybody even considering trying that one to be almost comical in a morbid sort of way. However, the trinary system for which they were now headed might provide an opportunity. Once there and slowed to impulse, it would be insignificant weather he was flying the ship, or Missouri was flying herself. Well as long as he did a good job of it that was. She would still be a lot to handle with all the automation switched off.

~ Perhaps we will have a chance to get acquainted more properly when we arive.~ He thought silently to the ship, almost as though expecting a response.