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Dash_Andrews

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About Dash_Andrews

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    If Tribbles Were Latinum... We'd All Be Rich....

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  1. Drinks are on me... Dash waited patiently as the information passed quickly across the screen in front of LaHaye and T'Aral. This assignment had been an interesting one: Deltan Pheremone Attacks, A Busted Up CO, Hostile Would Be Passengers, Hostage Taking, Infiltration... This list went on but Dash's head began to spin rememebering the events of the past few days. Now, it was a bank job. He didn't know all the specifics, it seemed straight forward, on the level even. Which would be a far twist from the shady dealings they'd been performing as of late. He was no stranger to the dark side of work out here in no man's land, he'd seen plenty of action from the time he arrived five years ago til the day he met Joseph Manning... He looked at Nickles who seemed pale, which was normal after his "Deltan Encounter", but his strength was returning quickly. "We should really get that drink, I've a feeling we could all use it." LaHaye, meanwhile, was beginning to confirm what he'd been suspecting -- these people were not Guardians. Though his rescuers were wearing Guardian uniforms, their associates were all plainclothed, and a motel in the Merc District didn't strike him as a typical Guardian outpost. Further, he was starting to remember names and faces from previous investigations. The 'Manning' character who was leading this group, for instance -- LaHaye had been approached by a criminal overlord several years prior to do some digging into a Joe Manning's activities in the city. It was some time ago, but the face seemed familiar enough, as did another name he'd overheard on the speeder trip -- Pher. A few of his competitors in the city had been tasked on occasion with keeping an eye on an Orion by that name. In both cases, the name of the same ship came up -- Qob. These were mercenaries. Mercenaries who'd promised him protection and passage off-world under the false pretense of being Guardians. His eyes flicked between them as they conversed, as he tried to gain a handle on them and their motives. Could he trust them to honor their deal? What, exactly, was their interest in the Rainmakers? LaHaye would play along for now, but he would do so cautiously; these mercs could prove to be better allies than the Guardians if they were trustworthy, but they could also prove to be a lot more trouble. Seemingly on cue, Shane stepped up to tower beside LaHaye and spoke in his low rumble, "I agree, Doc. Dealing with all of those "unwanted guests" is making me thirsty." Shane had just come from the room where he finished untying the Guardian hostage and had been watching him to make sure he intended on keeping to the agreement. Eventually, Pher had sent him downstairs, since for some reason she thought there would be less conflict in the hotel room without his presence. Chris nodded in agreement with Shane. "A drink wouldn't be a bad idea, Just promise me ONE THING???? For Heavens sake IF I decide to walk off with anyone besides SOMEONE in our group? Somebody shoot me with a phaser! PLEASE??" Chris looked in both directions, "Which way to the nearest watering hole?" Dash had to laugh at Nickles, but it was good to see him getting back to his old self. Without a word he began to lead the group back to the lobby and toward the hotel bar.
  2. What's wrong!! He shouted entering Main Engineering from the adjacent corridor. The venting had not begun, the station was running out of time and something was keeping them from inacting their plans... Their final hopes. Duroz was in his EVA suit and his eyes flitted about the Engineering Deck... Coleridge, Fletcher, and Sub-Commander Jorahl were working diligently at several different stations. New faces had come to take refuge there in the last bastion of survival, the Commander herself was among them. The last survivors aboard a terribly doomed starbase that they had all sworn an oath to protect and serve upon. Duroz, get the O2 tanks open, with a switch, a can opener, or a phaser if you have to!! Jorahl's words were slightly muffled coming through his EVA helmet but the Rihan's urgency was no less palpable. Duroz was unsure the state of affairs in the lower decks near Oxygen Reprocessing and Control. From what he could tell earlier the bottom decks were some of the last to truly be attacked by the parasitic creatures that had nearly devoured the top half of the station already. As he dropped several decks downward quickly he soon found the shear emptiness of the usually bustling and packed gradure of Aegis... disconcerting. The lower levels had already had main power cut and diverted to the structural integrity fields and shield emitter systems. Auxiliary lights were running and red filled most of the corridors. His eyes adjusted as he staired in to the see of blood and he moved quickly onward toward the large double doored bulkhead that would lead him to the tanks. The control booth to his left was still partially lit and he stepped inside the large transparent aluminum pane he peered through gave a view of the largest reprocessing center he'd ever laid eyes on. A whole year he'd spent aboard this station and he'd never set foot this far down before... He punched in several common commands for pre-venting procedures in to the still lit console screen... Nothing... He waited a second more then slammed a hand hard down upon the console. He moved to the double doors and cranked upon the manual release behind the flattened and slightly hidden panel. As the doors pried open a rush of air could be heard whistling through the doors. The tanks were already leaking... He need only speed them along. There were eight primary tanks, and four sets of manual release mechanisms. As he made his way to the manual release and control station midway down the large cargobay sized facility he heard the Rihan's voice once more in his helmet... Start manually blowing all external hatches once you've got the O2 tanks open. If it wasn't already broke... he was to break it. That was a first for him. He was an engineer after all, a klingon engineer who'd had to piece disruptor array ODN conduits back together with nothing but a clamp and a pressure seal in the heat of battle. Now they were intentionally damaging their station to save it... The irony was not lost on him.[/size] The four oxygen release valves gave no trouble and the pressure filled up the room quickly, he could feel it beginning to weigh upon his suit. He exited through the doors from whence he came and blew two hatches on the deck before he dropped down two more decks. He intentionally skipped a deck for the sake of time and simply left the junction hatch open. He had released atleast four decks when the pressure was finally beginning to show a substantial drop. And then the sounds of screeching... crunching and shear metallic collapse filled his head. His mind twitched as his Klingon blood boiled with the thought of dying with honor but his animalistic need to survive pressed him to move quickly. Gravity released him from the ground. The lights went out... As he turned his helmet lights on and engaged his magnetic boots he finally came to a conclusion. He would not waiver in the least. If his sacrifice here today could save those who remained behind with him, he would give his life with honor. He pressed himself facing downward in to a crouching position upon the hatchway of the the deck above him. FOUR more decks was all he had to clear... He would do it... He pressed off hard and uncharged his magnetic boots to release him from the top of the hatch so that he may thrust himself downward faster... And then... There was only silence...
  3. "It's too hot now... Far too hot." Dash wasn't happy about it but the vendor was right. Moving the medical supplies now would be impossible at best. He'd have to wait, and waiting would be extended to say the least. Pher had rushed back to meet up with Joe and the others and report their plans but he'd heard nothing from them as of late. The explosion that rocked the downtown area of the city was all to easy to hear however. Word was already spreading amongst the patrons along the market streets. Security was ratcheting up their belts and ushering people along who were caught loitering without any sense of purpose. Understandable, atleast from an outside looking in stand point. They'd been caught with their pants down. The Rainmaker's, being the ones taking the credit for the attack, executed their plan in one of the most secured buildings of all the city. Someone would undoubtedly have to pay for their oversite... Someone's head would roll. Dash caught himself grinning a bit at the thought of some top-brass Guardian getting his pretty little uniform removed from his head... or was the other way around. He chuckled a bit at that. "Keep it moving you..." He felt a shove to his back that could only have come from a long barreled assualt blaster and he needn' turn to look at the man holding it to know he was wearing the colors of the Guardians. What Dash didn't realize what they were employing mind reader's now. He laughed again and made his way, along with much of the crowd, away from the market's center. Like a piece of driftwood he would have to ride the current of the people as far as they were going, he was not quite strong enough to resist and dart in and out of them and fight the tide anymore. He saw an opening after about two blocks of cattle pressed herding and slipped in to an alley to his left. He grinned once more as he looked upward and saw a quaint little sign above a doorway that simply read "PUB". For some it was a terribly unlucky day, what with heads rolling and CEO's bursting in to flames. For him, it was looking up. Sure he didn't know where the rest of the crew was, or how in the targ they were going to get the medical supplies they needed now... But, atleast he found a nice little place to weather the storm. As he entered the bar and looked around at the smoke filled dark and arid shanty-esque decor of the small establishment he grunted slightly, perhaps he'd spoken too soon about that whole: "Luck turning around thing". He noticed barely a handful of patrons all of which were dressed down in the fullest sense of the term. Clothes worn and ragged... all except for a female at the bar. Now she, undoubtedly the hired entertainment for this gin joint, was the picture of Risan Beauty. Pher might even be jealous had she seen her... The Bartender was a young slick haired man with a toothpick in his mouth and a latinum chain around his neck... Brave soul wearing that in a place like this. That could only mean one thing, they had security with big guns and bad attitudes waiting for an excuse to use both. Andrews made his way toward the bar paying little attention to the whispers of patrons, or their stares. He pulled the stool out and mounted it gingerly placing his cane to his left with the woman to his right. "I'll have an Aldebarran Whiskey and another for the lady..." She smiled and moved toward him. He smiled as well... He knew he should check in with Joe and the others, but he was sure they were all laying low as well, waiting for the amplitude of security to tick back down to a detestable but manageable level... So, he thought... that could wait.
  4. HOTEL TRANQUILITY BAR Jake had arrived at work at 34 hours and this was 4 in the morning. He had one straggler who was a Hotel patron so he knew this guy was going no where in more ways than one. But he also knew that he couldn't just kick him out. Officially, they were open for another two hours, but this guy had been there since midnight or before. He poured a nice tall glass of water and set it down in front of him. Andrews was in it deep... The bottle that is. Starting early and finishing late... He tried to remember when he actually sat down at the bar, he could swear he had started at a table. He was shaken from his revery by a glass of clear liquid that was now placed before him. "Thas' not what I ordered pal" "Yeah well, the bottle's empty... Sir." "My pocket's not... last time I checked." Jake walked slowly over to the back of the bar and grabbed another bottle of Aldeberan Whiskey Sour... Not wanteing to, he begrudgingly pours a glass and returns to the patron.... "This is your last, okay buddy. You look like you could use some sleep..." The long slender silver cane, that had become Andrews' life line for better part of two years now, was resting between his legs his left hand seated atop the curved crest. He shot a glance up at the oaf of a man in front of him, then a glance down at the new glass. "Since when did you start turning away customers? I've been drinking long enough to know when I've had enough to know... enough..." he trailed off and grabbed the glass and began to drink from it. Perhaps he had had enough, but he was not ready to stop. "So, who was she, man? I mean, I've seen that face before. It's got to be a woman." Jake put his arm on the bar and looked at the gentleman struggling to keep conscious... "Don't start heading down memory lane with me friend... I didn't ask for an ear I asked for a glass..." He didn't wish to recount how he came to be where he was. He told that story all to many times, and carrying the physical wounds was enough to remind him of Illiana these days. Jake looked at him and smiled. It was a sad job sometimes, watching hearts bleed. But then sometimes there was nothing one could do. He stood up and grab his bar rag and began wiping down the counter. Andrews paid no attention to the world outside his own head when he was this far gone. Another day, another time, he may very well have indulged the bartender with his story. Not today. Today he needed a drink... Sal Rosetto found himself now wandering the corridors of the Hotel. He took the elevator down the the main floor and the doors opened. There was not a soul in sight and most of the lights were dimmed save one... The Bar. His eyes were glazed either from the lack of or from too much sleep. He couldn't decide which. As he entered the bar he saw the bartender doing dishes and one gentleman sitting at the bar staying at the glass in his hand. He was dressed well and so Sal pulled up a stool next to him and attempt to get the bartender's attention. "Sir, Rom Ale, okay?" Jake looked up from the sink and nodded. He wiped his hands dry, grabbed a mug from the rack and tipped it under the tap... Dash barely noticed the new patron at first, but as soon as he saw the barkeep begin to pour a new glass spirits he couldn't help himself. "So he can waltz in and get anything he wants at this time of night, but I'm cut off aye?" Jake looked at the Andrews as he passed and set the mug down in front of Sal. "That'll be 10 credits..." Sal flashed his room badge and Jake responded with a nod. "I'll buy you another if you give me that one..." Dash said to the new guy. "Sir, I strongly suggest..." Jake said, responding to the other gentleman, "...augh" He just sighs. Sal looks at the man, "What's your name?" Downing the last of his Aldeberan Whiskey Sour he began to stand to move closer to the gentlemen. His legs had other plans and he quickly let his hind-end find the stool once more. "Name's Dash... An' you?" Sal helps him sit back down. "My name is Sal Rosetto. I'm here to start work on the QoB. Don't know what's going on with these ports.." Dash waves off the man's attempt to assist him. People look at him and all they see is a man with a Visor for eyes and Cane for legs. He hates that. He hears the word QoB and realizes the man obviously knows little of the ships crew. "The QoB aye? Be careful you team up with that group of sullied victims" Sal laughs... "So, what brings you to this barren wasteland of opportunity?" "I'm a prospector..." Dash said leading the man a bit. "You've come to the right place. Have you been outside of town. There's nothing but rock for a 100 kilometers in any direction.." "Not really what I'm 'Prospecting' for chief... " Dash laughs a quiet laugh. Sal looks him over a bit. "Ah, precious cargoes, aye?" Dash moves his hand from his cane to the glass, then realizes it's empty and grunts. "You could say that... yes indeed. Have you SEEN the Orion Girls around here?" He laughs again still searching for a glass of whiskey that's no longer there. "Not many, yet. But I have been told. I have some fleet buddies who've been around these prts before." Sal notices Dash's glass is empty and flags the bartender. Jake unwillingly strolls over and begins to whisper in Sal's ear. Sal convinces him to pour the man another... "Seriously though... be wary of the QoB... She's cursed... Some say she's haunted even." Noticing the glass suddenly full of Whiskey once more, he grasps it as if it were a tank of oxygen to a man floating alone in space... Sal looked at Dash with his head cocked. "Cursed, huh? how so?" He felt a buzz in his pocket from his PADD and knowing exactly who it was he added, "Got any kids?" Dash ignored the last question, perhaps deliberatly, perhaps not. He instead focused on the first question. "Well for starters, she's 40 some odd years young, and pieces have been known to just come FLYIN' off when she leaves dock! I've heard people complain that one moment they're in their home all nice and cozy and the next... BAM! There's a duranium plate sitting in their rose bushes... " He laughed. "And second... And this is the scariest bit... They have me for a Doc..." "Who--What? You serve on the QoB?" Sal was very suprized but he was pleased with his luck. He knew that the vessel was 40+ years old but now he was sitting with someone who was a fellow crewmate. WOW, he thought... "Unfortunately... Yea, I do..." Dash said with a grunt. "Well that's okay, we won't need that plate until we land again. I know because I'll be driving..." Sal laughed... "I guess you diserve a proper introduction." Dash straightened his jacket half-heartedly and extended his right hand. "'Doc' Andrews..." He said with a crooked grin. Sal responded in kind as he grabbed Andrews' hand and shook it firmly... "By the hand of kahless himself... Let's hope you're a better pilot than you are a judge of employers..." Dash laughed again and sipped his Whiskey still eyeing his new acquaintance.
  5. (Picture from Starfleet Academy File) NAME: Dash Aaron Andrews AGE: 28 HEIGHT: 6' 2" WEIGHT: 200 lbs. HAIR COLOR: Dark Brown FACIAL HAIR: Beard - Dark Brown EYES: Green - Silver Visor worn at all times Characteristics: Walks with a Duranium Alloy (silver) Cane favoring his right leg. Dash Andrews - Combat Medic/Frontier Doctor Born on Europa (one of the 12 Jupiter moon colonies), Andrews was a child of the Federation. His father was an archaeologist working on site as the lead researcher for the Federation Mining Consortium on Europa. His mother was a Linguist in Starfleet who spent much of her time aboard the Federation Defense and Custom's Station orbitting Jupiter. The rotating shift of two months on two weeks off kept her away from Dash during much of his childhood. His father tried to make up for the lack of her presence but his work pulled him away from the boy nearly as much. Dash spent much of his time with his head in a book, or his mind in space. He was as imaginative as one my think a boy who grew up so alone might be. He dreamed of leaving Europa, joining Starfleet and travelling the far reaches of the universe. Those dreams stuck with him through his teenage years, and at the age of 17, against his father's wishes but with his mother's support, he joined Starfleet Academy. It was there that he found a passion for Exobiology and Alien Psychology. He kept his grades high and his goals the same. He was accepted into the Academy's Pre-Med program and was fast on his way to becoming a Doctor with a future aboard a Star Cruiser. It was in this pre-medical program that he met the love of his life, Illiana Zuniga, the two formed a fast friendship as lab partners and after school study mates. After a few weeks it became abundantly clear to both of them that they were falling in love with each other. Weeks turned to months and months to a full year and the two were never apart. The following May, just before the end of their second year in the Academy, and one month after their one year 'dating anniversary' Dash proposed to Illiana. When she said yes he felt as though all his dreams were beginning to come true. Dreams took a backseat however, when the training vessel Dash and Illiana were aboard came under fire by Rebel Colonists outside Andorian space. The small frigate sized Miranda class vessel, full of third year cadets and below, was no match for the lightning fast pirate fighters used in the surgical strike. The ship was nearly blown to shreds before even half of the crew could reach the life boats. Andrews was one of the lucky ones, but he did not escape without severe trauma. He and Illiana, among others were carrying wounded to the escape pods on deck 11 when a torpedo struck the un-shielded hull two decks below. The emergency bulkheads were rendered useless and Dash watched as the wall before him was crushed like a tin can then erupted inward with a force that knocked him unconcious, but it also knocked him to safety. He had been nearest to the life boat when the hull was breached, and he had been thrown inside it... no one else on deck 11 survived. Starfleet retrieved the survivors only a few hours later, the pirates having been long gone. Dash was found nearly lifeless, his eyes blinded by the flash of the torpedo as it discharged it's anti-matter. His Right Leg was mangled and much of the ligaments and muscle had been eaten away by the hot white cinders of plasma undoubtedly thrust upon him from the blast. His chest and arms were also burned with second to third degree wounds covering 35% of his body. Andrews was taken care at Starfleet Medical's Emergency Trauma unit at the Luna Colony. Many of the burns to his chest and arms were repaired immediately and very little scarring remained. His leg however had to be contained and kept in stasis, his comatose state prevented them from repairing the leg fearing his vital signs would drop too low during the procedure. His eyes could not be replaced with prosthetics either, as the ocular tissue was too inactive, by passing the ocular nerves the doctors were able to fit him with an ocular visor, a device that was considered outdated for the time, but was the only way to repair the damage done. Had they waited for him to wake the nerves may have degraded to far beyond repair. Andrews remained in a coma for the next two months. A steady regimen of neural stimulation sessions seemed to pay off in the end. When he awoke he remembered everything, which is quite rare in cases as traumatic as his. Upon realizing what had happened, and the fate of his beloved, he refused final treatment of his leg. He would take no prosthetic, no artificial tissue, no scar regineration treatment... nothing... he felt that if he erased the scars on his body, he would be erasing her memory as well. Before a Board of Inquiry pretaining to his re-admittance, Andrews stood, leaning upon his duranium alloy cane, and recounted what had transpired from his point of view. The board ruled that he would only be allowed to rejoin the Academy if he agreed to undergo the treatment to repair his leg fully and if he agreed to visit with a counselor three times a week for the remainder of his years in training... he refused on both counts. After leaving the Academy with a Medical Discharge he ventured to the far reaches of the Federation. Perhaps fleeing as far from her memory as he could. But never truly leaving her behind. He found a home in Bull's Head, and worked as a Medic in a small town between jobs aboard freighter vessels and various unsavory postings with pirates. He no longer cares what the job is as long as he stays on the move and keeps busy. He continues to study medicine all the while... as he searches for a new life that will provide him with a sense of purpose, and perhaps fill the void her loss left behind. For the past few months he has been aboard the QoB, serving as their chief medical officer, their former medical officer was promoted to XO when their previous commander lost his life in battle... It is here he seems to be finding a sense of calm... and perhaps he just might stay a while.
  6. You got me there Rosetto... I do love some Altered States and Deep Impact... Not a jodie foster fan though... :/ However I will say this... In defence of Star Wars it wasn't nearly as weak a plot as Avatar so bad comparison... I mean we're talking about a 6 movie arc story that carried us through two generations of rebellions... Not to mention there is enough smartness whipped in to keep the "trekkers" interested. Yes it's more action heavy... But as we can all see TODAY with Star Trek XI... Trek is having to follow those same footsteps to stay alive and gather more of a fresh audience... Let's just hope they don't sacrifice the Core Audience to gain the new young Emo-punks and Transformers fans...
  7. Add 7 to 8 years to finish from greenlight to the last day of visual editing... and it wasn't worth it... The film... Visually is something worth watching... The story... Easy, boring, and nothing short of old rhetoric... But hey, if you missed it in 3D at Imax... don't bother renting... Unless your home theatre is just as impressive. On another note... the most expesive film to date was Pirates of the Caribbean at worlds end.... $300 Mill
  8. LOL I honestly think they use to throw darts at a page like that on a BIG board to write half the episodes hahaha
  9. HAHA... That would be cool Caelan... But unfortunately not everyone could d/l the client and you have to play through the tutorial to get to the station to... not to mention station chat is ate up with Spammers. However, one day they're going to bring GUILD bases in to STO and then we should really consider simming on our own private AEGIS base... NOT TO MENTION for all you SHIP based simmers... YOU CAN SIM ON YOUR BRIDGE!!!! Just invite all members of the sim to visit your bridge... and you can stand at your stations and so on... Quite the added visual appeal... :)
  10. I'm not trying to debate you Jorahl we all have our own tastes... but the Doctor and the Vulcan are the two I hate most... they're poor copies of multiple previous characters... The doctor is Julian Bashir and McCoy's love child with a case of bad puns... and the Vulcan is... Tuvok on his worst day... yeesh... On another note I'm just now going through the Original Series from start to finish... that's right TOS from the first pilot with Chris Pike and Emotional Spock and now to the poor choice of Shatner Voiceovers at random times :) live long and prosper all hahaha
  11. This Star Trek: Phoenix is going to be an Online Series... hmm OK I'm watching the Cloak and Dagger episode... The acting is next to HORRIBLE... I swear I've shot better actors in my basement... and I can prove that on Youtube. I try to support any and ALL Trek incarnations but aside from obviously having some money in this... they could have used a good casting director... sheesh.
  12. I agree with Sorehl, ABRAMS did much to bring a NEW young undiscovered Generation in to the fold... But I'm hardly gonna drop the previous canon that I've devoted so much time in my life to... Not to mention the endless heroworship it inspired :) Star Trek: Phoenix being the subject here however, I am intrigued and will undoubtedly give it a look... But I'm not expecting too much... so I won't get my hopes up to be let down by shotty acting poor visuals and horrible attempts to copy previous character behaviours. That being said... Enjoy at your own risk.
  13. REVIEW: I have been playing STO since it's inception, I find it a very promising game. It's space battle mechanics and the wide range of abilities and specialties to chose from keep it fresh. However, it is what it is... it's new, it's still growing, it's got a long way to go. The thing about it is... It will be great so long as people can stick with it. They've already made leaps and bounds with their improvements, and they have many grand additions in store. Missions feel like episodes, but as you go further and you reach a point where patrols and explore missions are your only source of development, it begins to become a tad monotonous. I encourage everyone to try it out... I would caution however, not to spend money on more than one month of subscriptions until you've tried it... The first 30 days comes with the game... I say take that, then see for yourself. for more info on ships, classes, abilities, and things to come... visit www.startrekonline.com
  14. My application is in Joe... Can't wait to join you aboard... :)
  15. The Mail string is the list of e-mails that you will receive when you join an advanced sim... that list is the e-mails of your crewmates... generally I've found if there is a LOG it's posted on here as well as e-mailed to the members of the crew... Basically like Capt. Calestrom said... you can't really expect everyone to post a log every week... it would be nice, but frankly it's enough to have them showing up to their posts when the SIM comes around once a week... :P Also many people have been here for years and writing could get tedious if having to do so week in and week out... Thank God for the dedicated GMs that work SO hard to keep this place enjoyable and lively... :P