Col. C.E. Harper

Enjoy! Ag101707.txt

"Making the Tough Decisions" Harper stalked into the NNC, aware that the stormclouds on her face would start the gossip mill running, but not willing to trust the information to comms yet. "Paradox," she called out, "we need to talk." Day looked up from the console she was reading, and jerked her head in the direction of her office. Clearing the display, she stood and headed that direction. Obviously, something was not right..... after this day, it could be anything. Stepping into the familiar confines of the XO's office, Harper paced the small space before the desk restlessly. Her mind was still whirling with the information Condacin had given her... and its fallout. Paradox waited until the doors were closed, then enacted a privacy seal. "Okay... what happened now?" she asked, with no small amount of frustration in her voice. "Condacin came to see me." She stopped pacing, turned to face Day. Her tone loaded with frustration, she continued, "She's been to talk to Noleph, and apparently he had some interesting things to say. Starting with the fact that the Selshans control the Soltans." A swear word escaped Day's lips, before she paused, "Wait a second... why was Science interviewing our prisoner? Isn't that Security's job? What the heck is WRONG with that dept? JoNs has had more people in and our of sickbay in the last two days than Medical has! Can't they function at all without her? They can't keep a prisoner secure????!" Day was getting pissed. She sighed. "I don't think he left the brig, at least. But -- well, you know Condacin. She probably blustered right by the guards." "Exactly my point! So what else did our lying prisoner tell our nosy science officer that you want to believe?" It was blunt, to be sure... but there was no point in dancing around the issue with Medusa. Harper scowled, thinking of her argument with that nosy science officer. "Well, apparently he's got Odile ready to argue his case. She proposed keeping him on as some sort of... native guide!" Day laughed, "Oh, sure... I like that idea." She paused, waiting to see the look on Harper's face. Seeing the ‘Are you insane’ look on Harper's face, she smiled broadly, "Well... guides lead the way, right? We can launch him out the forward torpedo tubes, and he can guide us through the nebula. Too bad the EVA suits won't fit through those tubes, but we all must make certain sacrifices." Slowly the look melted into a gallows-humor smile. "It does have merit. But I think if we want to keep our component atoms attached to one another, we may have to offer him to the Selshan.' T'Loren shrugged, "Well, he'll be right out there where they can pick him up." After a brief pause, she shrugged again, "Why are we even considering believing a thing that lying bastard says, Charlie?" "I don't know," Harper answered slowly. "But, Paradox, this rings true, somehow. I'd like to think he was lying to us again..." Day sat down, being still a little tired from the last few days. "So what if it's true? I mean, what does it really change??" "Maybe nothing. Maybe everything." She leaned a hip on the edge of the desk. "If the Selshans are the puppeteers, then they're responsible for the attacks on our shipping routes. On the other hand, until Noleph's little stunt they haven't been hostile to us. We could persuade them to have the Soltans take us home." Day shook her head, "If the Soltan are doing this all at the Selshan's direction, then asking them to send us home isn't likely to do much good. And if they are in charge, they've already, in essence, declared war on the Federation. In which case, while I certainly don't agree with the action... well, people die in wars. Okay.. so what do we know for sure? The Soltan are dangerous--both from the raid perspective, and from the perspective that they infect people. I hope no one in the Federation has contracted that little 'disease'." "It seems to take contact, so unless their MO has changed since we got here, probably not." Harper considered the matter for a moment. "The source is suspect, of course, but Noleph claims there's a... revolution? movement?... afoot in Selshan society. Freedom and justice and the usual suspects." Another vulgarity was expressed, this one indicating the belief that the subject was equal to male bovine manure. "I trust him about as far as.. as... well.. as far as O'Brien could throw him. Even if it's true, again, what does it matter? If there is... is it the 'rebellion' that's pulling the Soltan strings, sending them raiding into Federation space in the hopes of attracting powerful enemies to bring down the Selshan leaders? Or are the leaders pulling the strings, looking for power against this rebellion? Charlie, I just don't see it mattering. What's important is that we're here, but we're not here to get involved in politics." "I don't see us getting home without getting involved," she answered bluntly. "The Soltans have the subspace drive that can send us there; we need it. Unless you want to spend thirty years crossing the quadrant." Day shook her head, almost determinedly, "We need it. Doesn't mean we have to get involved in politics. We just need to acquire one... and the *Soltan* have already committed acts of war against us, so I have little problem in, shall we say, appropriating one of their ships, minus the crew." Harper chuckled. "You have a ruthless streak," she commented, but she didn't sound upset. "What about the Umbara? I could live with 'the enemy of my enemy' -- perhaps they know more about the drive." "I don't want to get in bed with them any more than we have to. It comes down to this, Medusa: Our responsibility is to our crew. Period. If that comes across as a 'ruthless streak'.. well, our crew is too important to risk on the possibility of contracting that virus. If that means we space the Soltan crew... well, think of it as a Borg cube. Those people aren't who they were. They aren't really even 'people'. They're organic machines, nothing more. But... what is Noleph is lying in part.. and it's the Umbara pulling the Soltan strings?" "This whole situation is giving me a headache," she complained. Silent for a moment, Harper mulled over the facts. "Here's what I say: hand Noleph over to the Selshans, the birdy general to her people, and get through the nebula out of this warzone. Then we can concentrate on getting one of those drives from the Soltan, and going home." T'Loren nodded, "I can live with that. There is just one potential problem that I can see. What if we give Noleph to the Selshan and he gives them a sob story?" She paused, her face taking on a sad, pathetic look, and her voice was squeaky, "I tried to tell them it was toxic. I begged them not to use it, but they are heartless and cruel. You have no idea what it's like on their ship. Captain Bob had me gathering intel on the Umbara.. and they killed him for it!" Considering that, she shook her head. "They don't like him much to begin with," Harper pointed out. "We tell them what happened -- then offer him up by way of apology." Day held up a finger, "How do we *Know* they don't like him much? His word? Their saying they want him back? That's not much proof." "You want to keep him?" she asked dryly. Day's bark of laughter resounded in the office, "No... but I don't want to get attacked if we've been played. I just think we need to be sure, that's all... Either have Levy do it, or I will... but one of us has to verify that he's not playing both sides against the middle." Harper's expression abruptly turned grim, her lips pressing into a thin line. "There are rules about that..." But slowly, she nodded. "Make it so." Day nodded, "I know there are rules.. but the safety of the crew is more important. Do you have a preference?" "Do you?" She rubbed her temples, feeling a pounding ache threatening to start. "Levy may be less pragmatic about it, but would her read be more accurate?" Day shrugged, "I don't know. We haven't exactly gone head-to-head to see who's stronger, if you know what I mean. But being she's a healer, she may object. My methods, though, require touch.. and may cause, potentially, damage." "To you or to him?" Harper asked anxiously. "Well, technically, both... though in my case, it'd be more a headache. The real danger would be to him, if he fights it." Medusa looked out the viewport, her jaw working. "I'm not sure I care about that," she admitted, finally. "I know I don't.. but will the Selshan?" "If they're just going to execute him anyway, probably not. If they care what happens to him... Well, if he's playing us, we're going to have to reconsider giving him back in any event." T'Loren nodded, "I'll see to it. Just don't tell Troll.... He'll lock me away in Sickbay for a week." Day grinned, "You should have seen his face with half of security traipsing through... I thought he was going to have kittens." She mustered a smile for that. "Because of the territory invasion or because of the overdose of barnacles?" "Both, I think. You'll have my report in half an hour." Harper nodded. "Thank you, Paradox."

10.10.07 Ag101007.txt

10.03.07 Ag100307.txt

Because the "cloak" was incidental to the experiment, and "cloak" is a very Trekkie term anyway. Try "teleport" or "invisible"; you'll have more success. http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a2_293.html http://www.rense.com/ufo/philahoax.htm http://skepdic.com/philadel.html http://www.history.navy.mil/faqs/faq21-1.htm And my fingers are twitching to correct the post title -- it's the Treaty of Algeron, a star system near the Neutral Zone. As opposed to Aragon, which is in Spain. :P

09.26.07 Ag092607.txt

Dox is right; once you know what a hypospray is ("a medical device used to inject liquids into the body." - MA) you really don't need to have more direction on how/when to use it. Likewise most of the terms Galen provides are readibly definable at MA. I really don't see the point of duplicating the work. However, a resource for persons, places, and events in sim canon could be valuable and would have a certain amount of revisiting built in.

Do bear in mind that any forum-wide wiki would not be a duplication of Memory Alpha as there's really no point reinventing the wheel. If you're just looking for general technobabble, MA's your site. A forum-wide wiki, IF one were ever to come about, would most likely be similar to the databases that some ships already maintain. (Agincourt, Arcadia, Reaent, for example, and if I've missed someone I apologize.) These are ship-canon information rather than Trek-canon, keeping info on various NPCs, technology invented for the sim, major plotlines, etc. It would be more useful for questions like "did someone already make up an explanation for how a gravitron bomb works?" (she said, surfing Arcadia's wiki) than "what's a good engineering tool I could use to sound more tech-ish?"

It's been discussed, actually. There are a lot of reasons why it never moved past discussion, but the biggest was probably that it's a lot of work to invest in something that might not get used after the initial "oh, cool" period. Edit to add: By the way, this isn't to say we've decided against creating a forum wiki. It's still an idea that's floating around out there. This is just why we don't have one yet.

Day, JoNs, Matthews, Black-Knight, and Keltex launched from Agincourt on the shuttle Tiderium, slipping into transporter range of the Selshan vessel. Once in range, they began jamming communications and beamed fast-release anesthezine gas into key locations on the ship. After force-docking, they boarded in EVA suits, and found that no Selshans remain conscious. Resuce of the Umbara general was simple, but upon exit they discovered that in Selshan biochemistry the gas was not as a sedative but a poison. Every Selshan aboard was dead. The drop in life-signs was noticed both by the Agincourt and by the other Selshan vessels, forcing the shuttle to flee. A Selshan vessel pursued, and the Agincourt was forced to intervene to protect the shuttlecraft. Heavily damaged and fleeing at maximum speed, the shuttle prepared to make an emergency landing in the shuttlebay. Ag091907.txt

Best advice: don't worry about it. Relax and have fun, and you'll graduate before you know it.

We -- or rather, our phenominal Webmaster -- do actually know what happened now, and Webby is working on fixing it. All should be back to normal in a few hours. In the meantime, should you be one of the lucky few to see this, no sims are running at the moment. Back to regularly scheduled insan -- I mean, fun! -- soon.

Well, there's that... but I think it's only September, yet.

And we won't -- time travel gives me headaches just watching the show; planning it would drive me insane. (I imagine I'll probably be forced to eat those words eventually, just because that's how life is, but for now, we'll remain firmly in 2397.)

::schedules Tabby and Stabby for remedial diplomatic protocol lessons::

"Thank you, Mr. Tanervrë," Harper said to the Sulamid officer who had Gamma shift this cycle, "I'll keep the watch for a while yet." "Yes, Captain," Tanervrë replied, getting the rank wrong as usual. It didn't matter to him that she was a marine, she commanded the ship, so she was 'captain.' "Not overwork, Captain. Get rest soon." "As soon as I can, Mr. Tanervrë," she replied, carefully hiding a smile. There was nothing quite like being mother-henned by a sheaf of purple tentacles, but there was no point in protesting. That was Sulamids for you: good natured, loyal, honest. He knotted together a few of his tentacles in a gesture of respect and shuffled off to an auxiliary console. Harper settled back in her command chair, knowing there wasn't any point in returning to her quarters. She wouldn't sleep anyway, not with a battle a few thousand klicks from them and a team venturing off into potentially hostile territory. Potentially hostile? a sarcastic voice at the back of her mind piped up. These days it sounded like O'd'yl, as if the flesh-and-blood version weren't enough alone. Harper squelched it as she rarely managed to suppress the physical version. Yes, all right, they were probably heading into hostile territory, seeing as she didn't really trust the Umbara one little bit (or the Selshans, for that matter), but it wasn't as if she'd sent off a shuttle full of bluegills. The marines could handle themselves, whatever came up, and – yes, the barnacles could too. This notion of going after both the general and the spy (sounds like a bad holo-novel, commented the inner Odile) certainly had merit. Stars knew she liked keeping her options open, given that she trusted both sides about as far as she could throw them. But she didn't like sending a team into the Umbara's claws. Maybe the whole ship should have gone… or part of it, at least. There was no tactical advantage to holding MVAM in reserve; both sides had seen it already. Send… hmm, Gamma section? After the spy. It was the best-armed – but then perhaps it should go after the general in the thick of the fighting. Or Alpha, the most maneuverable… She cursed, realized it had been aloud, and pretended to ignore the glances of the bridge crew. The differences in sections was an old complaint, one they'd discussed to death back on the Prometheus Project, even as keel after keel was laid to the same specs. Practicalities… but she could still hear the refrain of the Strat-Tac people: "At least arm them equally!" What would happen, they theorized, if one section should be destroyed while the others survived? Of course, usually in the scenarios it was Alpha sec, weaker and slower, that was lost, comforting everyone with the 'certainty' that Beta and Gamma would simply link back up, and a new Alpha module could be built later. They'd even argued for building one or two spares to hold ready, but it wasn't like bridge modules, so easily replaced. Seven decks, three hundred meters long, warp core – as well build a Defiant-class and have done with it. And why, she wondered sourly, did no one write scenarios for intact sections unable to relink? It might have made their first days out here easier. That wasn't quite fair, she knew; they had. And then they'd installed triple redundancies in the docking: mag-lock, hard-dock, umbilicals (though the last required some precision flying from the various helms). And should all of those fail – or in Agincourt's case, be slagged by weapons fire then shaken to bits as a bonus – well, no one had expected a ship to be so far from spacedock that it would be any hardship. When we get home – she refused, even in her own mind, to say 'if' – I'm writing Admiral Janeway and asking if she'd be willing to collaborate on a set of recommendations for design and protocol with an eye to ships stranded outside Federation influence. Maybe enlist a few of the commanders who pulled duty in the Gamma Quadrant, too. A few things had been learned from Voyager's adventure; improved power-regeneration systems and energy efficiencies, mostly, which was why Agincourt hadn't been forced to forage for foodstuffs and ration replicator usage. Thankfully, Harper thought. I'm not sure I want to find out what the local answer to leola root is. "… Captain?" She blinked and looked up. Tanervrë was standing there, one of his smaller tentacles wrapped around a padd and several large ones waving anxiously. "Not be hearing, Captain. Resting now." Harper tugged her uniform straight, drawing herself up – and then sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. "Very well, Mr. Tanervrë. You have the conn; I'll be in the Ready Room." "Aye, Captain." Harper got up, foregoing the usual eyeroll at the usual mistitling, and walked the long way around to her ready room. The stairs were a bit of a nuisance, in her opinion; too few and too many all at once. Though granted the circular design did give a commander better line of sight than the horseshoe-variants. The ready room doors hissed open, the lights coming up automatically. One of those power-saving measures; someone had figured out that it wasn't necessary to run lights in empty rooms, even a workspace, even in dayshift. Now they came up upon entry. Unfortunately, she didn't want them right now anyway. "Lights one-quarter," she snapped, passing through the open office space to the tiny space beyond, the one that was just enough to hold a 'fresher and a cot. Old-style ready room, this: the workspace might have gotten cushy as ships did, but they always found somewhere to tuck the old crash space, the place for a captain to nap for an hour or two assuming he or she could actually be prevailed upon to actually leave the bridge in a long-term crisis. Harper shucked the uniform jacket and lay down, setting her 'mental alarm' for three hours. Despite her worries, her body was well-conditioned; she dropped off almost at once.

(no subj yet) Ag081507.txt

(Author's note: This was one of the set of three that I intended to post during our first mission in the Perseus Arm. Obviously that didn't happen -- so here it is, updated and finished. The others may be found in this folder: "Meet the Umbara" and "Meet the Soltans") "Meet the Selshans" Lord-Commander Solin of the Imperium ship Oath contemplated the small ship hanging at the far end of the Hevereon Passage. It was somewhat different than the last time he had seen it; for one thing, when last he had seen it there had been two of it. the shape of it was odd -- hard, angular, and shaped too much like a beak or a blade for him to be entirely easy in his mind -- but he thought he could see where one might stack on the other, like those wooden puzzles his father had bought for him as a child. The part with the... runners? pods? was new; it must be the "friends" they had been searching for at the time. So they had survived. He'd had his doubts at the time -- lost, unaware of the danger posed by the Umbara's vicious war machine, and clearly a species with little understanding of Order. So his engineers said, reporting back after assisting the ships' repairs. The accounts they gave of the lack of discipline aboard those vessels had been frankly appalling; he counted it a miracle the thing flew at all. From the sound of it, they were only a step away from mutiny all the time. He shuddered at the very idea. Mutiny -- the concept was strangely fascinating even as it was terrifying. It had given him nightmares when he'd first understood what it was, this concept so foreign their own tongue didn't even possess a word for it. At first he had believed it must refer to some terrible kind of mental disease, for what else could cause a crew to turn against their Vested Leader? The truth of it was even more horrifying. Even now, he found himself glancing around his directorial at his crew, assuring himself that they had not changed into the monsterous agents of Chaos that had inhabited those nightmares. No, they were the same crew, the good crew of Oath that had served him and taken his direction for a thousand turnings. They went on about their duties, knowing by now what must be done and when, the young ones tagging after the old so they could learn the way of things out here, where Chaos was a common foe and sometimes you must needs borrow its own weapons to use against it, so that the training was no help at all. He had seen countless new-commanded lose all reason in such situations, sitting paralyzed in the face of something their well-Ordered lives had never before shown them. Some never learned to cope with it, this great mystery: that those who would give and protect Order must know Chaos. Why else would so few be fitted to lead? That touch of Chaos sent lesser beings running mad; they must be protected from it by those of sterner stuff. Sometimes Solin envied them their peaceful lives of ignorance.... but he was one of the few who could stand the Chaos-touch. It was his duty to bear it for those who could not. Now here was a vessel of the barbarian races, those who had not Ordered their lives, facing him down. So much the agents of Chaos, these, that they even welcomed those of many kinds aboard their vessels in all services. How could anything be accomplished that way? Each race had its own place in the universe; each being its own place in its race. Yet here were these Federationers cheerfully mixing parts. As well sow fields by scattering all crops on the winds from the center! It galled Solin to request their aid, but perhaps they might have more success with the Umbara, being alike in Chaos. Perhaps it might even set them on the path to Order, though he doubted it. Imagine, that they should compare the just containment of a war criminal for an Orderly trial to the succoring of a Chaos-agent! Traitor, and spy -- more words they'd had no need of until they had ventured out into the darkness of the void where Chaos reigned supreme. Solin frowned. No, the Federationers would never understand the ways of Order, but they might serve it all the same.

Shoreleave Death Spree. ::sage nod::

TBS: 30 minutes Ag080807.txt

Chatlog. Ag080107.txt

Actually, we ARE on Startrek.com -- that's why it was up in the second window. If you look to the side there, you'll see that's the Community page on ST.com, where the links to STSF are. :) Oh, and a general request -- can we not quote the pictures, please? They're great, but scrolling past them 6 or 7 times gets to be a pain.

Polls were tried. That's how it wound up in Florida last year. Attendance actually dropped, so it moved back to Vegas. Somewhere on the forums there is a thread with guidelines for proposing a new location, but I can't find it at the moment. It involves finding out information on transportation, accomodations, entertainment, and the like. In any event, you should be aware that ShoreLeave (wherever it happens to land) is an informal meet-up of friends, the vast, vast majority of whom are legal adults. We take no responsibility for other people's children. So those of you in the young teens thinking about attending, be aware that you'll probably need to talk your parents into coming to be responsible for you.

STSF has a long tradition of a once-a-year get-together; in fact, STSF practically got its start at such a meeting. It used to be at Baltimore's "Shore Leave" convention, but some years ago there was a decision to look for a more central location and to leave a venue that was starting to get overcrowded. Vegas has been the site for the annual meet-up ever since. Sometimes it coincides with a convention, sometimes it doesn't. This year it does, and that's why STSF is making such a fuss about the Vegas con.

Not just good advice, but a requirement. Posting a bio your GM team hasn't clapped eyes on yet is a really good way to get on their bad side fast. As for non-canon elements. Yes, many GMs allow them. Heck, some of our GMs use them in their own characters. But in the end, this is a Star Trek game. If can't find a potential character in all the wide canon and psuedo-canon of five series, ten movies, a cartoon series, and I don't even know how many tie-in novels, what are you doing here? Beyond that, there's enough to do and learn when you move to an advanced ship without drafting complex crossover character backgrounds. For your first character straight out of the Academy, the KISS principle should definitely apply. You don't need to have special abilities or magical friends or skin colors not found in nature to have an interesting character. Plain ol' humans are endlessly complex -- or we wouldn't be here talking about it! Roddenberry wanted to always have the actor's eyes visible in any alien makeup job, because it was the human emotion of the character that was important, not the fancy prosthetics. I think that can be applied to character development as well -- start with an interesting person, then build bells and whistles on that foundation.