Jorahl

Pennington Award There is much weight given to a person's last words. It's like asking one to sum up their entire existence in a single phrase. Noble men have had their final words etched in stone and remembered for ages. Last words have changed the tide of battles, altered the path of Empires, and led the faithful through many trials. "You must act...". Fine last words to give your compatriots in arms. But beyond such romantic ideas most people's last words consisted of more screaming and moaning then eloquent verse. Gasps for breath or inaudible curses at death itself passed over the lips of most that faced their ends. Death can be quite impatient and seldom waits quietly for it's turn in a conversation. Given all that, in this modern age there was one word that proved the most common as final words, "Energize". The most important step in a successful molecular transport is the destruction of the target. The transporter beam locks onto it's victim and begins to rip it apart into the most basic particles possible. The cremated bodies of the dead have more of their original substance remaining than that which a transporter has gotten a hold of. It was a disturbing thought one had to push from their minds anytime they chose such a means of travel. But then, after hundreds of years of use the transporter was a very controlled and precise collection of machines. A disruptor on the other hand was very indiscriminate in the way it chooses to shred apart matter. This was a fact the confinement beam of Aegis' transporter scanners were finding out. The automated system was already struggling against the patchwork of overrides and alterations now in place. The demoleculizer was taken offline and the first half of the transport protocols were bypassed. Power for the remaining systems had been shunted through other areas. The matter stream itself bounced between one buffer to the next in an odd game of keep-away. The computer system, which honestly would rather be worried about putting this jumbled vaporized soup back together somehow, was otherwise tasked with keeping the whole ordeal a secret. Despite the madness of using a disruptor as the first step in a transport, Aegis' computers dutifully went about their orders. Likewise, Lt. Victors followed orders that made very little sense. Not that much of what was going on around Aegis now made sense. The shipyard had been evacuated and completely powered down. Being stationed on Midpoint, the transport relay station set on some tiny rock between Aegis and the shipyard, seemed pointless. It was already one of the least glamorous jobs on Aegis. Most people going between the two chose to simply take a shuttle. When they did transport, their patterns would spend but an extra second in Midpoints buffers before being carried on to their final destination. Lt. Victors figured only about 2% of Aegis' occupants were even aware that this little station existed. Even less then that had a clue why she was here, seeing one end of this pipeline was closed for business. Midpoint was truthfully living up to it's nickname among the transporter chiefs, Mud-point. And mud was about the state of the pattern now being fed into Midpoints transport buffers. Lt. Victors stirred in her seat in the break room as she heard the sounds of the buffers spooling up. If someone was transporting over they should have signaled first, that was procedure. More madness she surmised. Setting her drink aside she moved to the transporter room half expecting to see the automated systems already materializing the traveler on the pad. Instead she found about every alert possible lit up across the transport panel. Immediately taking her station she began trying to assess the situation. "Holy crap!" was her conclusion. Not in the most evil of Academy simulations programmed by the most vindictive of instructors had she been handed a transport in this state. The energy conversion rates were well over tolerances, the pattern integrity was swirling like a typhoon, there were additional waveforms gnawing at the confinement beam, and there was no support or additional data from the transmitting station. In fact all contact with Aegis had now gone dead. If the station had exploded, could that have explained this signal? She didn't have time to dwell on such things. She started one sequence after another. The pattern sloshed and shifted around the buffer but would not stabilize. Three times so far the panel hummed dissatisfied with an unsuccessful re-sequencing. The pattern was slipping away. The confinement beam was failing. In a flash the traveler would be lost. "Flashport!" the Lieutenant yelled. Flashport: Transporter operator jargon for a rapid dematerialization and rematerialization sequence bypassing all safeties and chances to abort the process. The swirling hurricane in the pattern buffer was ripping itself apart before it could be materialized under normal operations. Lt. Victors had only the time for one more try. She would have to dump the entire pattern onto the pad as quickly as possible. It was all or nothing. A flashport might just be able to solidify the signal into something whole before being scrambled again. All safeties were quickly switched off. Power now built up in the sequencers. The transporter control panel was all dark except for the three iconic sliders. She held her breath and quickly swiped the controls. There was a flash....

Pennington Award The Control Tower was deathly silent. There was no movement among the officers stationed there, no rush of security. It was actually Jorahl who had shifted the duty rosters so that all those he knew would be loyal to Aegis were removed from CT duties, though for completely different reasons than the conspirators had. He wanted no one else to get harmed if it came down to this. He had done everything he could to prepare them for the battle to come and it did no good for people to die in vain. In preparing the station to be capture by these traitorous Romulans the SubCommander had ample opportunity to expedite it's recapture. It was amazing how many similar goals the two tasks shared. The Shipyard was a variable the traitors didn't want to deal with so they had it evacuated. This also meant it would see no damage from combat and insured many of his most loyal officers were now on station and ready for combat. Communications outside of the asteroid field were also limited so that the allies could not react in time. Equally, whatever forces the traitors had awaiting would be unaware when their plans went awry. (Five Warbirds were enough to deal with.) Likewise by making sure officers and civilians were corralled away from critical areas he could easily shape the battlefield to his own liking. And finally, it was much easier to block everyone's access to the Defense Grid than try to limit it's use to just one side. That's not to say any of this was easy. If it had he would have simply beamed all the traitors into space and let the Grid loose on the Warbirds. That option however was taken away when the first Romulan ship docked with Aegis. It was now within the main shield perimeter. Local shielding would prove little use against a Warbirds full arsenal at point blank range. It was too late for open resistance by the time the threat was known. The best choice was to play along. So, like a good Romulan Jorahl waited. With the comm from Aegean though he could wait no longer. Jorahl knew where they were, just in range to have received his coded message. Opening the computers to their access had gone undetected for a little while but he saw the bandwidth limitations clamp down and knew it was time. What information left he needed them to know would have to come from his lips, most likely his last words. As a true Romulan he found no better last words.

[Joint log by SubCommanders Jorahl and Dabi] The Chief Engineer's office of SkyHarbor Aegis was something of a mystery. Some Chiefs had completely ignored the room. Still others have rarely been seen to leave it's protective walls. Among the tech crews there was a rumor the previous Chief never actually left and his remains lay entombed in a wall panel or on Jorahl's shelf as a trophy, depending on who you asked. The tale could not easily be confirmed or dismissed because the current Romulan Chief rarely used the room and it remained silent and locked for most of the time. So, it drew no small amount of attention as SubCommanders Jorahl and tr'Jeth stepped into the office. The room was pitch black as Jorahl first stepped in. With the detection of motion the computer quickly faded up the lights. A scan of those entering cleared the start up of a number of displays and access panels. The room was void of personal items or other embellishments of interior design. However, it could not be said to be featureless. Nearly every available wall space was taken up with a viewscreen. The full workings of the station could be easily accessed and monitored from this one room. The single desk came to life as well with it's entire surface lit up with displays or control inputs. Jorahl stepped behind this desk, turned, and sat on a simple chair, the only item in the room not equipped with a monitor or touchscreen. Jorahl eyed Dabi for a moment. He remained silent until the door had firmly shut behind them and then for a few seconds after for dramatic effect. "I am aware of the human custom of a best man. It is a position of great honor. The one chosen and groom to be are many times like brothers. In some older customs this person becomes a protector of the grooms new family. In others the best man is to take the place of the groom if anything happens to them. It is a type of guaranty that the grooms family will be protected and continued." Torate responded without all of the torment in his voice as Jorahl did, "We are brothers, with both of our planets under the same moons. Do na feel required, or accepting any lloann'na honor that you speak of." Torate was just fulfilling his fiance's request; even more so than she asked, since he may have his blood brother there if all goes well. Jorahl was just a backup and Dabi had explained that minimally in his request. As Jorahl entered something into the desk panel a section of wall monitors cleared and were replaced by a single display. The blank screen snapped to life with a security camera view inside one of the holding cells in Aegis' brig. The date index in the corner showed the image was recorded some three years prior. With the press of a button the record began to play. In the cell stood Dabi with Jorahl turning towards the exit. tr'Jeth stood motionless with a slight hint of green blood dripping from one hand. As Jorahl cleared the exit he wrapped a gleaming blade up inside a white cloth, both tools when death became the last duty of a Romulan. Jorahl called out to the guard standing watch, "If he tries to escape, capture him. He does not die on his own terms from this point on." Just as the cell door shut tight Dabi looked up and said clearly to Jorahl, "How's the family." The record image paused, focused on Dabi, a strange look locked on his face. With cold eyes Jorahl looked at tr'Jeth. "You made a thinly veiled threat against my family and now you would have me stand beside you as you start your own." Jorahl stood straight and tall. "We have worked past much of what happened back then. We have learned and forgiven. Most of the human crew have long forgotten what happened then." Jorahl's sharp Romulan features tightened to a razors edge. The pain and passion of emotions so feared by the Vulcans rolled freely across his face. "I however am ROMULAN!" he shouted, "and I have not laid eyes on you once in all these years and forgotten!" Jorahl's hand slammed down onto the desk, crushing a wayward PADD. He then quickly squeezed the PADD into a wad of twisted metal and broken polymers. "I hold no debt against you except for that one foolish threat." Jorahl's eyes locked with Dabi's. Torate stood interested and watched Jorahl seemed to lose his temper. Jorahl continued, "One day you will look down at your own children and understand." Still with muscles tensed and only the slightest edge removed from his voice, "For Dr. Pavilion and the children you may have with her I will not collect on this debt. But, I will not stand beside you." Torate spoke quietly, and gently, "Au know, Jorahl, au were na being threatened, nor aus family. But now I know that this is why au ignore your brother, if only by heritage, on this station. Au would rather tear apart the strength of the Rihannsu, instead of knowing there was never bad blood. Au owe me na debt.. but I trust au know to support and build aus house beyond what the lloann'na left alive on our planets." He turned his back on Jorahl and left the office. Thinking to himself, he wondered why he could never build a strong Rihan friendship with this one, one who clearly isolates himself away from his own people. He headed back to Dheno in silence. Jorahl remained in the office, emotions smoldering on his brow. He looked back to the events of before. The thought that he should have ended tr'Jeth Dabi then and there for mutiny was strong in his mind. That he let the smallest of threats against his wife and children go unanswered gave him shame. But, for all his fury the time for vengeance was passed. With so many of their people scattered and in distress this was not the time for a bloodfeud. Jorahl only hoped he would not regret that decision as well.

It was a fallback plan, and the most desperate long shot imaginable. Five Warbirds sat just outside the Romulan system awaiting the incoming nova. Assuming the Vulcan called Spock succeeded they would quickly join the task force to deal with the Breen. If Spock failed, they would be giving their lives in a more immediate way. If the nova wave reached their position they were to overload their power cores. The force of five AQS cores exploding would perhaps be enough to disrupt the wave, creating a pinhole for Romulus to sneak through. If it worked the crews of these brave ships would be remembered forever. It had no chance of success, surmised the Commander of the Warbird Tal'Davia. If it had there would be 50 Warbirds lined up beside her's to make sure Romulus was spared. It had become something of a grim science she had begun in calculating the odds of success based on the number of ships assigned to a mission. For the first time however she found herself on the lite end of the scales. That they were waiting on the efforts of one small ship crewed by a sole Vulcan didn't do much for her mood. "Sensor readings," she said calmly. "Still nothing Commander. But," the Ops officer waiting for a mental count to 8, the time he calculated before sensors would detect the wave. "Now Commander, we have it on sensors. Reading it at full force." "Damn, the Vulcan failed." She leaned back in her chair, gripping the armrests and prepared to give her next orders. "We don't know that yet, Commander." He would have explained the whole subspace interaction equations to her if he hadn't served under the Commander for so long. It had been a long and painful learning process for both of the officers but they had come to know how much information the other needed. That all the unspoken bits were accounted for was a trust many officers longed for with their comrades in arms. The Commander eased the grip on her chair slightly. "Then give me a countdown, SubCommander." "We should begin core overload procedures in no less than 300 seconds... mark." With that he started a timer on his display board. Such a shame, she pondered. Her SubCommander was one of the smartest officers she had ever served with. Whatever was left of Romulus after this, they would need people like him. Soldiers like herself were made to give their lives like this but minds like his should have been saved for better ends. In nearly a whisper, "Subspace readings Commander." His voice then shot up a few decibels higher than he was expecting as he confirmed the incoming data. "Subspace matrix is breaking down. It should completely drop out of warp by the time it reaches our position!" A cheer circled around the bridge, ending quickly with the raised arm of the Commander. A few moments passed. The SubCommander turned back and nodded again, "It worked." The sensor alert sounder gave the Commander just enough time to exhale before calling out with it's unnerving tones. The SubCommander's head snapped back towards the panel. "The shock wave is collapsing back into the singularity but we're reading a gamma radiation surge. It's still inbound, 21 minutes before it reaches Romulus." "The plan?" "Useless. At subwarp speeds the wave will just diffuse back around the shadow we were trying to create. Romulus will still take a full blow." From another station, "Commander, the Hydrexa is breaking formation heading towards the wave. They've started their overload procedure." The Commander and SubCommander locked eyes for a second with the SubCommander simply shaking his head. "Damn. What happens when the wave hits the planet?" "Anything unshielded will be irradiated. The major cities will be safe but the planet is dead. Anyone outside the cities is dead, Commander." It was a nearly audible snap as the walls that separated her life as a soldier from everything else broke in two. "PILOT! Reverse course towards Romulus, full impulse!" She was out of her chair and standing next to the Pilot and Ops in a flash. "How long before the wave hits once we reach orbit?" "Thirty seconds, at most." "Sensor display of the planet." The Commander looked quickly to the main viewer as the display switched to that of the surface of Romulus. Large spheres showed where city defense shields had already been raised. Her eyes quickly pinpointed the one spot on the map she was interested in. It lay nearly halfway in between two large doming shields and flat out in the open. "Take us directly over these coordinates." The Commander reached over to the Pilot's console and enters their destination. "Geosynchronous orbit, Commander?" asked the Pilot. "No, directly over top. I want that whole settlement within our shield grid." The Commander's eyes stayed fixed on the view screen. Drawing close and in a whisper, "Commander, you want to take a D'Deridex Warbird into the atmosphere?" Looking to her SubCommander, "That is exactly what I plan to do. No questions asked, understood." "Yes Commander." The Warbird dove dramatically into the atmosphere. It's shields blazed as the friction heated the air into a plasma. Sluggishly the vessel's nose rose up in an attempt at a breaking maneuver. The massive ship wallowed back and forth trying to slow itself as the ground raced upwards. "Divert all power from the warp coils to shields," called out the Commander over the roar of noises that seemed to come from everywhere. "Weapons offline, life support, everything we don't need turn it off." "Ten seconds to target." Looking to another panel, "Thirty-three before wave impact." "We're slowing," alerted the Pilot. "Shields ready," added the SubCommander from Ops. "Extend shields!" The protective shell blinked visible in a flash of static as they reformed into a dome down to the planet's surface. The Warbird Tal'Davia hung in the sky like an overripe fruit waiting for the breeze to send it crashing down. It fought the pull of gravity with thrusters and stabilizers and sheer willpower. "Wave impact in Three, Two, One!" It started as just a whisper on the wind. The breezes at ground level shifted slightly. Then high in the atmosphere aurora lights began to rain downward. The colors spread and became richer as the wavering specters of light dove deeper towards the surface. All of a sudden the beauty of the scene was replaced with the reality. Like a large book falling flat on the floor everything changed. The sky turned to a burnt orange. The air snapped. The grass and trees curled and twisted. In unison the forests and fields burst into flames. Aurora and flames reached towards each other and playfully intertwined their fingers. "Shield status!" The Commander was back in her chair and holding tightly to stay in place. "Holding. But this is the easy part. Interaction with the atmosphere is going to start creating magnetic flares." The SubCommander grabbed firmly to the Ops station as the ship was jarred harshly. "Just like that." "Put the settlement on the viewer." said the Commander. In a blazing circle stood the town with it's green fields unmolested by the firestorms forming outside. The Commander rose up in her seat. "That is what we are now protecting. We are all that stand between this small remnant of our home and a fiery death. Put all of your heart into this one duty, to serve and protect that home below us." The Pilot's voice matched the intensity and alarm of the alerts sounding across his board. "We're drifting from our position. Wind sheers are increasing exponentially." "Decrease altitude." The Commander watched the viewscreen as the settlement shifted from the center of the screen. "Keep the shields in place." As if struck with a mighty pole a magnetic flare wracked across the Warbird. Voices overlapped on the bridge, "Stabilizers out. Loosing propulsion. Shields at 50%." One clear voice shouted out, that of the Commander. "Put her on the ground!" The Warbird swayed from left to right then began to drop. The already panicking civilians on the ground began to scream as the shadow of the vessel grew. It began to twist and spin in a fight to control it's descent. Gravity began to dominate the large ship. It looked like it was about to smash into the heart of the town before sliding north. Just thirty meters above the city it gave one last pause against the pull of the planet before crashing downward. Several small buildings were instantly flattened. One warp nacelle struck first digging a massive hole in the ground. The lower decks of the Tal'Davia collapsed and broke apart until both nacelles came to a rest on the ground. The mighty beak of the ship drove into the soft ground of a riverbed, sending it's water overflowing the banks. A sickening sound echoed as metal twisted and slowly settled into place. Now on the floor herself the Commander asked, "Shield status." The SubCommander pulled himself up quickly, wiping blood from his eyes. "Shields at 30%. Diverting remaining power. 35. Now holding at 45%. Ship has taken a lot of damage but power is stable." He turned and looked down at the Commander. She lay there with one hand firmly holding onto her knee which was broken. The other arm reached out to the edge of the command chair in an attempt to pull herself up. With a series of tugs she was upright again and looking back at the SubCommander. "Send out away teams to gather all the civilians to the ship. Pull the shields in as we clear the outer perimeter. "Yes Commander." After a few moments of relaying orders the SubCommander stepped over and sat down beside his Commander. She gave him a curious look but said nothing. "What was so important about this place?" Looking away, displeased at the question, "I was born here." "I understand." "No, no you don't. I despised this place. I left it long ago with no plans to return. I joined the fleet with the sole purpose of getting away from it. I hated it so much I removed it from consideration when they placed a bid for a military base when I stood on the planning board." The SubCommander sighed. "If you hadn't of done that, they would have gotten that base wouldn't they." She simply nodded. "And they would have had shielding." "I've prided myself on my service to the Empire. I've put that above a lot in my life. That choice was the one time I put my feelings above that service. Well, besides crashing my ship in a reckless fit of guilt." The SubCommander smiled. "Here we sit, on a wrecked ship on a wrecked world. But we've proven what is good about this world. Despite all the faults of where we call home you have proven it's merits. That is enough to rebuild on." The Commander turned towards him, with a small half smile. "Sentimental fool. How about shutting up and getting me the doctor."

If it's who I think it is, makes sense seeing he played Murdock in the original A-Team series.

For those that enjoy fan films, the first episode of Star Trek: Pheonix is now available online. If you like future Trek then you might like this. It's set 25 years after Romulus is destroyed. The Romulans now rule their empire from a planet named Rihannsu (at least a nod to the Rihannsu books, but no other indication yet that they will be using that history/culture). While the Pheonix's main mission seems to be ambassadorial missions between the Federation and other worlds (there's a bunch of Ambassadors on board at all times) the first episode is a mix of character intro flashbacks and away team phaser fight. The starship is pretty cool looking. The swirly patterned computer interfaces are a little odd but I like the 3D interface they use in their new transporter rooms. The fight scenes are bad but otherwise the acting isn't that bad. All the actors look like they'd actually pass a Starfleet fitness exam. They were trying to introduce characters and new tech so I'll hold judgment for how thought out the plot actually is. The snarky doctor and the Federation ambassador who is Romulan but has adopted Vulcan beliefs will be the characters to watch.

Oh, you want HORRIBLE acting go check out Star Trek: Hidden Frontier, the early seasons. And brace yourself for their attempt at a Tellerite, "Pig Boy" sent me into an hour of uncontrollable laughter. There's also ST: Osiris, bad acting and horrible dialog... I've been unable to subject my brain to the entire part 2 of that one. So, when I said the acting wasn't bad that was considering other Fan Film attempts. Make sure to check out the mini-episodes of Phoenix. The one with the doctor and one with the ambassador are well acted and interesting, in my opinion.

Given Aegis' history, it might fit more into the Dominion War/Post Dominion War category. It's current location is a break from that but the allied nature of the station is a definite carry over from the war.

For those with NetFlix, First Contact is now available to watch online. It's been a while since I've seen it and ya know.... not nearly as good the second time 'round. The acting and lines during dramatic moments seemed cheesy and the Borg were messed with too much. The Borg Queen just seemed wrong, a character they had to make so the "formula" would work. I'll go as far to say the Borg were dealt almost as bad a hand in this movie as the Remans were in Nemesis. One became zombies the other vampires. Anyone else watch this again and find problems with it?

This is a character from Baldur's Gate I believe. I used it as inspiration for an SGV Romulan years ago. I lost the version where I gave her Romulan ears.

It would have to be a dual system. There are many examples of someone just hitting a button, saying a name, and that person gets the message (very much like TNG comm badges). Maybe best case example is from Balance of Terror. Kirk calls for phasers to fire and they don't. He hits another button and kicks in ship wide which is when Spock hears and rushes back to save the day. (Note: Uhura is manning the Nav station at this point) There must also be a system to confirm the right person responds. Kirk is always being called and whatever intercom button he pushes answers. It would be too easy for someone else answer the call if it just took someone hitting a button to answer the latest call. Also, everyone else who was about to call would have to wait. I can't think of an example where someone hears a comm for someone that isn't in the area so the system may follow people around and only announce near their location. But Uhura could also manually direct calls to wherever they were needed. Kirk probably as often asks her to get someone on the horn as he just hits the button and calls their name. NOW, my theory about TOS Comm is that it is the origin of the Ops position of TNG. They wore Ops Red. They relayed much of the action commanded by the Captain. They confirmed all decks reporting in during alerts. While many might argue that Ops would come from the Nav post, the nature of Ops has more to do with comm. TNG Ops in my opinion is TOS Comm with some of Nav's buttons. The one argument against this is that Tac many times handled comms... which never made sense to me besides giving them something to do. But it really all boils down to... It's a show and was really inconsistent with Comm in both TOS and TNG. From a simming point of view a comm officer has to chart their own waters and find out what works for them and the crew.

If you listen to interviews about the costumes, the miniskirts were the sign of a liberated woman at that time. It was "I don't have to cover myself anymore, look what I can get away with wearing" mentality. Practicality and the 60's had little to do with one another.

Well, red was for the overall "Operations" departments who are the ones who get things done, if that makes you feel better. I have the feeling though that it stems more from available costumes than anything else. When the first costumes were washed they all shrunk. The guys just had to deal with it. The female ones were probably too tight fitting to start with. I imagine either the red uniforms were the most abundant and therefor the more likely to fit or that a choice was make to spend the least amount of money to fix their costumes and only a few reds were sown up.

A blow to the image of Kirk was given by MythBusters recently. They tested out his bamboo canon and the results were less than advertised, at least with the battlefield mixed gunpowder. When they used the real stuff he would have just blown himself up. And then on New Years Patrick Stewart was knighted. I still prefer Kirk a little and "Arena" is one of my favorite episodes. It's just as I've always said.... the Gorn should of won!

Let's not forget "Night of the Lepus". Mr Kelly, my favorite of the old cast.

The movie was "LifeForce" I believe.

The solution to the technical problems in the security department were simpler than Jorahl was explaining it to the underlings which kept asking what he was doing. Malfunctioning systems were not registering properly within the current diagnostic programs. False operational status reports were being recycled about obviously damaged equipment. They needed a way to identify the false reports and restore effected systems. So Jorahl decided to create problems in the first place. Nothing catastrophic mind you. The upgraded subprocessors were now designed to create cryptic anomalies within the programmer's notes and log files. Whenever a diagnostic would be performed the results would be sent to the main engineering repair status computer. If the anomalies were missing or did not match the expected coded sequences then it was known that the status report was inaccurate. The repair computer would then not report a positive receipt of the diagnostic report. This would cause the new subprocessors to retry three more attempts before rerouting the control paths through other subsystems until a positive receipt was achieved. Then a map of the effected parts of the grid would be sent to engineering and repair crews would be assigned. Diagnostic sequences were scheduled at regular intervals. Requests for diagnostic reports could be activated from security, engineering, or Ops as needed. Until the cause of the problem in the first place could be isolated this seemed an effective way to manage the situation. Despite possible disagreements between himself and tr'Jeth, Jorahl had added no other programs to the security systems. There were no control overrides, no bugs, no backdoor accesses of any kind. The system did exactly what he told anyone who asked. It diagnosed, reported, confirmed, and redirected if reports did not match the coded sequences stored in the engineering repair status computer. ...it was a totally unavoidable side effect that removing said codes from the repair computer itself would cause the subprocessors to fail all system checks, rerouting systems pointlessly in an impossible attempt to achieve a positive report. The constant rerouting would slow the system and command requests would likely be lost. Such an unlikely event still wouldn't be disastrous.... as long as someone didn't request a diagnostic sequence of every single system in security. The ensuing chaos as system command paths rerouted over each other and competed for system resources could crash the entire command network within the security decks. Safety systems would engage and treat the failure as a possible attack on the security division. This would cause the security decks to go into lock down. Sealed inside with no network access security would be blinded to events outside of it's own area. But, only the station commander, chief engineer, and operations manager would have the clearance to initiate an in depth diagnostic as that. So.... no worries.

Drankum will probably sue you if your sim runs over Aegis' timeslot. ::ponders applying for the 2 Minute Warning Guy spot::

I've always been of the opinion that logic is more dangerous than emotion... counter to the way Vulcans see things. Logic easily says kill the masses to protect the select. There's a scifi show/movie out there which while a comedy has an interesting premise. Humans start exploring space and are too trusting and get taken advantage of. They hire an alien race to alter their DNA to remove emotions. Then they proceed to very logically dominate the entire galaxy. So, unless there are rules set up that says do your job but don't cross this line or this line...then logic gives free reign for any solution which equals to success of the job. You could argue that logic would eventually calculate out that a more peaceful action will have the least percent chance of negative reactions. But, I still believe logic is more cruel and heartless in any number of situations. An interesting alternate reality would be logical Vulcan without a peacafist mentality.

I've always thought this was a good episode for us today. War was made sanitary so somehow folks could deal with it going on in a limited manner. It couldn't become ugly enough to turn away from....or ugly enough to get the job done. To paraphrase a civil war soldier, it's a good thing war is so ugly otherwise we might start to like it. But not to bog down on the endless discussion that could come from this episode.... on to the question.... I do not believe the civilians would turn on the government. They clearly knew what was going on. All the lives lost were lost in maintaining their civilization rather than letting it be destroyed in open war. They all walked into the disintegration booths willingly. If there was any reaction it might be more self blame in why no one else thought to turn the whole system off. But, it had become a way of life. It was natural, expected, just how things worked. Fear of the unknown was worse than fear your number might one day be called. I also think the first reaction would have been more concern that the other side might be willing to return to open war. All those who willingly died would have died in vain had the war returned to a non-simulated state. There was too much to lose so whatever disputes started the war would have to be addressed. How things would fully play out relies on things we weren't told. What the whole fight was about in the first place is key. It could be something small that grew and after centuries of war was no longer the point. With that a cooling off period then restored relations might be best. If it was something important then things get interesting. The Federation's role should then be to present options to both parties. They couldn't see life without the computer controlled war so they needed to be shown what had worked and not for others. No options should be enforced. If they wanted to restart the whole system then that would be their call.

Sounds interesting. I just hope 90% of the remaining Vulcan population doesn't end up on the ship. The lone Vulcan character idea would be cool in that setting... but no so much if everyone gets that same idea.

Of late I have been on a design kick, building 3D models in SecondLife of some stuff for my sims. I had the thought that a thread or even a folder just for the sharing of artwork and designs might be nice. We are a text based game but visuals can help make the worlds we create richer and more detailed. And I'm sure there are things that come up on other sims that others never see but would find interesting. I've seen this done on another message board. I figure this could just start out as a thread for anyone to share what they've done or might be working on. Then, if it doesn't generate enough interest no harm, if it does then maybe we can bug the higher ups about a seperate folder...if needed. And I'll start it out with a little pic of a starship design I've made. The ship is my design and work, the starbase in the background is a screen capture pasted in.

Very cool design. I read somewhere that the original Romulan bird of prey was suppose to be based on stolen Starfleet design. That looks like what they would have stolen. But...I don't hold that they'd need to use anyone else's ideas. Hehe, for a moment the design reminded me (especially the front "beak") of the ship on the old Gatchaman/G-Force/Battle of the Planets anime.

Joint log between Hannah McDowell, Jorahl, DJ, and Mimi The Aegis officers comprising the scouting team moved slowly in their radiation suits towards the main exit of the colony base. The sound of Hannah McDowell dictating something into the computer and then giving orders to those of her staff able to get out of bed drifted into the distance as they neared the doors. It seemed they had left that storm behind just as the doors opened in front of them, a single silhouette standing in the way. Having ducked out the side exit Hannah now stood in front of the Romulan named Jorahl, showing no fear. She was too mad to consider fear at this point. "Listen, I asked for your help with the sick here but I did not and will not authorize any of you to do one thing more to my site!" "Your site is the cause of the sickness...which we plan to deal with and not with half thought out fantasies but with some facts about what we're dealing with. So unless you have those facts handy, leave us be!" As the argument spilled out into the corridor, it was impossible not to overhear. DJ wasn't going with the team to inspect the contaminated site. She would be staying behind to keep an eye on the recovering colonists. From the sound of the ongoing squabble, she was concerned she might soon have a new patient. She stood a few meters down the small hallway and listened as Jorahl and Hannah McDowell debated their differing points of view. "I've already told you I believe the containers can be removed safely by usin the transporters, and then force fields can keep the site from cavin in after the containers are gone. Hell and damnation, I'll even let you have two of the containers if you want them! All I'm askin is that we have a care and proceed carefully with the site." Hannah took a deep breath. "Mr. Jorahl sir, these ruins are perhaps older than the Iconians. They could also tell us alot about this region of space, about the people who lived here and where they went, but if you and your people do not heed me, you'll ruin any chance of us discoverin what's buried out there." "And if your transporters can't penetrate shielded containers? The leak remains. What if your beam disrupts what containment is left? The leak becomes a flood. And what do you do with the contaminants even if this does work? Our scientist," pointing a gloved finger towards Aliana, "has also thought of using the transporters but we don't know how to clear the buffers of the radiation or what to do with it after that. We have the same problem again except instead of a small leak under the ground we have a time bomb in our midst. We have no idea what containment system they used, physical shielding, force fields, a small Dutch boy with his finger in a hole for all we know at this point!" Jorahl glared down at the Administrator. "We are your best bet to stabilize this situation." Dr. McKinny continued listening. Both had valid arguments. Jorahl was an engineer and a pretty good one at that, if his credentials were bona fide. DJ had no reason to doubt they were. The Romulan was highly intelligent and apparently well educated. She was downright impressed by his reference to a "Dutch boy with his finger in a hole." At the same time, engineers often possessed tunnel vision. There was a problem to resolve. In this case, a serious radiation leak. It wasn't out of the question that in order to rectify the situation, the engineers wouldn't place a lot of importance on protecting the remains of this ancient civilization. DJ could understand Hannah's concern. "Have ya not listened to a word I've been sayin?!" A Gallic curse nearly tripping over her lips, held in place only by years of raising children. The Romulan was just not going to listen. "I hand picked every single member of my team to deal with situations like this. Mineralogists, cryptographers, linguists, archaeological engineers, xeno-computer specialists, and any one of them with ten times the experience than the whole lot of you combined. And THEY won't destroy what fragile remains are left. You have no idea what you're doin here!" "If any of your vaunted team has powered down a Dominion control computer actively trying to engage a self destruct in their face...they can polish my boots. Otherwise you can take your experts and..." As their "discussion" continued, DJ considered her options. For now, she wouldn't get involved. But if this wasn't settled in the next five minutes, she would contact Aegis personally and apprise them of the situation. Then she pondered exactly what type of sedative she could use on a Romulan if things really got out of hand. As she thought over this a new voice rose up from the other room. "That's enough!" Mimi shouted. "We're all trying to do the same thing here. If we've overstepped our authority, we apologize. But, we really need to find out what is leaking and if anyone's plans have a chance of working. We will take anyone you require with us, respect whatever limitations you place, but we are here to help and we can only do that by going in there sooner rather than later. If you would like, Dr. McDowell, we could hail Aegis and see what they have to say. My only concern here is the health of you and the others on the planet as well as my team." Hannah stood there glarin at Jorahl while listenin to Dr. Pavilion. She knew she had a decision to make and quick. There was no doubt the colony needed the help of Aegis to properly dispose of the resin and containers. She had no problem with that. What she had a problem with was Aegis thinkin they could take over her colony and her site and destroy the ruins. She'd be damned if she would let them. However, a compromise was called for here. "Thank you Dr. Pavilion," Hannah started while still looking at Jorhal. "I have already sent a message to Aegis requestin assistance. However, I am willin to compromise to some degree. The site is under my jurisdiction; however, I will allow the engineers to remove the resin and containers under the watchful eye of myself and Dr. Asgar. Only work to remove the resin and containers is authorized. No other site work will be undertaken. After the resin and containers are removed, I might even release two of the containers to Aegis for study providin they remember where they got them. Are we agreed Mr. Jorahl? If not, then you and your team will stand down until official word from Aegis is received." Hannah finished. Jorahl nodded firmly, "Agreed."

He's asking for our pages to be in Greek, like other websites which allow multiple language versions. Not a bad idea at first but since the sims are at the core of what we do and as far as I know we don't have any Greek speaking GM's it might be misleading to advertise in any language outside those spoken by a team of GM's and enough players to support a sim or academy sim. Seeing as one should always have a plan for world domination handy though, it would be great to have multiple optional languages the site can be viewed in. But I don't see it happening right away.