LeftEar JoNs

Note: this log is set three hours after the 07.20.08 sim 07.26.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “Can’t Jump the Medical Fence” “Let that be a lesson to you; just lie there and be happy that you’re still alive.” - Doctor Leonard H. “Bones” McCoy to a recovering Captain Kirk (TOS episode Journey to Babel) **** The Excalibur’s executive officer, for the most part, was stabilized now. Lieutenant Call, the human head nurse currently on duty, re-checked the monitors that were tracking the feline’s condition. She had less monitors recording her progress since she was out of immediate danger, and had been moved out of the Intensive Care Unit to one of the regular bio bed sections, so this was a good thing. Call herself had been attacked as well by the green skinned pirate raiders, but her injuries had not been as extensive as the XO; the human nurse had been treated and cleared to maintain her duties. One of her assigned duties before the raiders had boarded the Excal had been to monitor the condition of the baby as well … and Call very much was wishing that she was still able to perform that duty. One of the tracking monitors suddenly pinged a warning and then the data flowing across the screen stopped, showing that the heart had flat lined. Call was brought out of her mental musings and her stomach flip flopped when she checked the pinging monitor. Oh God, it was the Exec’s heart monitor. Call grabbed the emergency medical kit that was kept next to her duty station desk and bolted toward the regular care unit where Commander Left Ear JoNs was recuperating. When the medical el tee rounded the corner, she was not met with the sight she was expecting: the prone form of the distressed executive officer lying on the bio bed. She was met with the sight of the upright executive officer shrugging into a light gray pair of Excalibur issue Starfleet sweats, as well as an engineering officer laying in the bed opposite the feline who had broken his arm during some repair work trying to verbally dissuaded the feline senior officer from what she was doing. Call slowed her pace and as she drew closer to the bio bed, and she saw that the commander had stripped off the three monitoring patches - - including the heart patch - - that had been attached to her skin; small tufts of brown fur were still clinging to the round progress markers. “Belay the chatter Ensign Barrons!” That order was barked out to the engineering officer, and while JoNs’s tone was quiet, the tone also brooked no argument from the junior officer. Call quietly placed her medical kit on the empty bio bed next to Left Ear’s own bed and made eye contact with the officer who had been attempting to way lay the Exec. Barrons just nodded to Call, confirming he would help if she needed him; he shifted his weight on his own bio bed so it would be easier for him to bolt across the aisle if his services were needed. To be honest, he hoped that they were not needed; he really had no desire to deal with a large and irate panther. “Can I help you Lieutenant Call?” Left Ear spoke to her without turning around as she adjusted a sleeve on her sweat jacket. Damn feline senses. She’s worse then my sister’s cat. “Uh, yes sir. Just wondering why you yanked off your monitoring patches?” Call kept her tone professionally neutral, yet moved herself into a position where the executive officer wouldn’t be able to get past her unless the feline vaulted over the bio beds set on either side of her. “I’m checking myself out of sickbay Lieutenant.” Now, the big brown panther turned to face the on call nurse. “And, I am pleased that you’ve recovered from your own injuries.” Call rubbed ruefully at her healing nose, hidden behind a small bandage. “I’m lucky they didn’t break my nose.” Her hand dropped and she sighed. “Sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave without authorization.” “That’s fine. Get one of the line doctors or CMO Wydown for the authorization.” “We still need to monitor you for a little while longer Commander, just to make sure that … “ “Lieutenant, I’ve already been monitored to within an inch of my life ... “ Call over talked the executive officer “Yes well, maybe that’s because according to the medical reports you were almost taken to within an inch of your life.” Now the commander flared, literally. Her ears went flat and her tail and neck ruff puffed out in displeasure. Call knew that normally, the on rush of adrenaline through the cat’s body that resulted in the flare of anger was really no issue; but in her semi weakened state, the adrenaline was something that would be detrimental to the senior officer’s recovery. Predatory green eyes flashed with anger. “ … Lieutenant Call. I have my duties. And this crew has a missing baby to rescue, a Crownstone to find, and pirate raiders who are in due need of a comeuppance. Do not impede my progress out of this medical facility.” Even though her movements were stiff, Left Ear deftly worked her way past the medical lieutenant and walked down the aisle separating the rows of bio beds. “I just need a sonic shower and a good hot meal ... “ JoNs had made it about five steps when the adrenaline rush abruptly faded and ceased pumping through her body and the big panther feline stumbled and leaned against a nearby bio bed for support. The medical nurse bolted into action and was at the XOs side in less then three steps; she moved in front of Left Ear and for lack of a better term grabbed the feline in a bear hug to support the executive officer and stop her from pitching forward. Call was a couple inches shorter when compared to the feline commanders five foot five inches, but she was strong enough to manage the more muscular panther cat. Left Ear screwed her eyes shut and groaned and coughed as the nausea rose in her belly and her head swam with lightheadedness. Call quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “Sir, if you throw up on me I’ll file a formal complaint.” In reality, the nurse had been yakked on so many times throughout her career that she was immune to it now. “You’ll be fine sir, you aren’t the first officer that tried to jump the fence to get out of the medical compound so to speak and you won’t be the last. You just need another couple hours of rest.” There was no protest from JoNs at this statement, only a grunt that Call took as an agreement. The nurse lieutenant then called out to Barrons. “Okay Ensign, give me a hand over here!” The engineering ensign was at her side in less then five seconds, careful to keep his bad arm with the bone knitter device attachment, out of harms way. He used his good arm to help Call assist JoNs back onto her bio bed. The feline commander went down for her “nap” with no further complaints, and she even managed a muttered thank you to the two junior officers. Call flipped on the local field medical monitor inset into the bulkhead above the bio bed that Left Ear occupied, and linked the device up to the front desk where her station was at. Lieutenant Call gave Commander JoNs a gentle pat on the thigh. “Now, let that be a lesson to you sir. Just lie there and be happy you’re still alive.” Ensign Barrons, who had settled back into his own bio bed, regarded the nurse. “You handled her pretty well.” He indicated the prone executive officer, who had now rolled over onto her belly, with a nod of his head. A slight sound of purring could be heard throughout the ward area now. Lieutenant Call moved away from JoNs’s bed and gathered up her medical kit from where she had left it and offered a smile. “Let me tell you about commanding officers and executive officers. I came up through the enlisted ranks as a medical technician and then took up nursing and switched over to the commissioned ranks. I’ve served for well over twenty years in the medical field, and one thing I’ve learned is that the command staff of a ship or station, if you know how to handle them, can be pussycats. Pun, intended Ensign.” Barrons chuckled at the joke. “Well, I hope the rest of your shift is uneventful Lieutenant.” “I’m sure it will be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to draw up a report on what just happened.” Now that threw the engineering ensign off big time. “Whoa, wait a minute, are going to report the Exec? Uh, sir, I mean.” Call offered a lopsided grin to the male junior engineer as she started to walk towards the entry way to the medical recovery area. “I learned early on in my career to document everything, no matter how small or trivial, that occurs on my watch. The medical bay sensors already recorded that her monitors went flat line, so I need to follow up with that in a report anyway. As for Commander JoNs herself? It really doesn’t matter that she has a few extra pips more then I do. She tried to leave the medical bay before she was cleared to do so, and before she was cleared to return to her duties. The entire medical department is here to help. I’ve never understood the general predilection - - and I’ve seen it throughout the years on several of my postings - - among any crew or staff that I’ve served with to bolt from medical, and the medical staff really doesn’t appreciate it either. If you’re in medical, then you’re here for a reason and should just calm down and let us treat you instead of leaving. We’re big on mutual respect and the honor system down here Ensign, and we expect our patients to treat us the same way.” Lieutenant Call paused at the doorway to the recovery ward and turned around to regard Barrons. “So, to answer your original question Ensign? Commander JoNs tried to stiff arm her way past medical care before she was completely recovered, and yes I’m making a report up on the matter.”

Hi Orb and welcome to STSF. Wicked cool RPG site to game on. The "Excalibur: Lower Decks" will be a message board only offshoot game of the Excalibur where character logs are posted and continue the storyline. There are no regular weekly meeting times in the live chat. Lower Decks missions will run parallel to whatever plot is ongoing for the Excalibur, but Lower Decks will still be separate. The focus is on enlisted and non commissioned officers only. Information here: http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showforum=77 on all things Lower Decks It should be the perfect setting for Euro players, we hope, or a so called regular time zone player who simply can't commit to a weekly chat meeting. The full game launch/application process will start at some point in the future. There is a blurb in the primer document that the Decks game will only accept STSF players who are graduates of the academy, have been on a game for 6 months, or hold a junior grade el tee rank for 3 months on one of the established games. We also plan on going with the case by case option where needed if a player doesn't necessarily meet all these "requirements" to join the Decks. Contact the Excal command staff: Captain Corizon or Cmdr Left Ear JoNs with any questions.

07.20.08 Excalibur Mission Update: TBS: 4 to 5 Hours - After semi-confirming and tracking a suspected ship and crew, the Excalibur maintains a parallel vector just outside the main territory (The Thicket) of the Raid Mother, Wort; we assume that members of her clan are the ones responsible for the boarding raid on the Excalibur and subsequent baby-napping of Julie Zier and injury to Executive Officer JoNs. - In order to proceed further into The Thicket, the main planetary stronghold territory of the Mother, the Excalibur needs to traverse a section of space around the perimeter that is highly unpredictable with various energy currents and eddies similar to The Badlands. - Second Officer and Acting XO Teykier led a small away team to board and investigate a section of the Boganary raid ship that was left behind when the ship separated into a multi vector mode; the command module escaped, leaving this main hull section behind. Lieutenant Garrison of security, Sgt. Matt Morris of the marine contingent, and Lieutenant Tr’Lorin of engineering accompanied the Orion senior command officer. - The Away Team beamed over to find the interior of the abandoned section covered with green mold, slime, plants growing. The decks and bulkheads have not seen Mister Clean or Pledge in a good long time. The team also encountered a living vine plant stretched across a section of the corridor that might be some sort of defensive mechanism. Feed me Seymour, feed me. - On the Main Bridge, Lieutenants Khal, Tia, Victria and Ramson discussed the inherent difficulties of traversing The Thicket with Captain Corizon. It was suggested sending out a series of mapping and tracking probes to gather data on the area with the Lancelot fighter jets along as escorts so the Boggies don’t blow the probes out of the black. - In the Medical Bay, Alexander Zier discussed his helplessness as a father unable to do something about his missing child with Chief Medical Officer Wydown, while Maria Zier sat with JoNs in the ICU. Doctor Wilson is on ICU duty. Commander JoNs regains consciousness, though she remains weak. - The ship remains on red alert and Security (Lt. Dougt) continues to patrol the corridors.

07.13.08 Excalibur MISSION BRIEF: Engineering has hopefully completed the repairs to the engines, while our fighter wings shadow several ships that may or may not carry our stolen baby. Kitteh is still in sickbay. 080713_Excal_Sim.txt

07.13.08 Excal Mission Update: - A Lancelot fighter squadron has been dispatched to birddog and intercept the suspected Boganary raid ship that sent pirates to board the Excalibur. The raid ended with the medical area being plundered, a stolen Zier baby, and an injured XO Kitty. After a pell mell chase, shots were exchanged by the squad and the raider ship. - During the course of the fighter pursuit, some interesting technology was employed by the so called “mismatched” suspect ship. Namely, a subspace type weapon that messed with the Lancelots, and a separation (think along the lines of the Prometheus class separations, or the Enterprise D saucer separation, etc) trick that divided two sections of the ship. Any relevant data was recorded by our fighters and streamed back to the bridge data stations. - The Boganary raid ship eventually entered the outer perimeter of their home base, located on a planet. The outer perimeter and planet, known as The Thicket by the locals, is very similar to the “Briar Patch” in ST: Insurrection, an almost impassable region of space which makes for a great planetary defense. - Engineering completed repairs on the nacelles and the warp drive, and also started preliminary testing talks regarding the Boganary cloaking device that Commander Admiran purchased at the Aisse Three space station. - The Security officers continue to monitor the Excals defenses, hoping to avoid any more Boganary technological bypassing raids in the future. - The XOs condition remains critical, and medical works to keep her alive. - The Ziers continue to mourn the kidnapping of their only child. - At the conclusion of the sim, the repairs to the Excalibur were completed and the ship got underway again, continuing the mission to locate the Crownstone, get our missing baby back, and deal with the Boganary. Boo and Yah. Note: check out this Plot Log which gives us our first glimpse at the notorious Raid Mother of the Boganary, Auntie Wort: http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=16390

Note: this log takes place right after the 07.13.08 sim. 07.14.08 USS Excalibur NCC-81762 “Twilight Runner” It was early morning in this particular hemisphere on the planet Cait, and the sweet smells of the early morning dew and the grasslands wafted through the open window of the bedroom area. Sunlight also penetrated through the window, sending the soft rays of light dancing across the floor and spraying across the far walls. Left Ear knew she needed to get up, but she really didn’t want to. The brown furred Caitian rolled over onto her other side, purring contentedly and breathing in the smell of clean sheets and a clean pillow. Something nagged at the back of her mind however. This wasn’t right. The feline really wasn’t supposed to be in her bedroom right now. Her old bedroom, along with her parent’s home, was currently located quite a few light years away. She finally opened her eyes and reluctantly sat upright on the bed, looking around the bedroom warily. “Hey there M‘Vess. Or should I call you Left Ear?” Her gaze shot to the open doorway, and her older brother M’Rirr stood there. He had always been a good looking Caitian, and there he stood in all his feline glory. Tall for a Caitian, he stood six foot one with golden brown fur and a rich brown mane, and sported the common lion genetics of the Caitian people. His cocked his head to one side in curiosity and he had that damnable jaunty smirk on his face that he always seemed to have, even as a kid. One shoulder leaned against the doorjamb, and he crossed his feline shaped hind legs at the ankles while his arms were crossed over his broad chest. He wore a ceremonial Caitian day robe … the black and red one that had been draped over his mortal remains for the ceremony and funeral pyre. The problem was that M’Rirr JoNs, the eldest of the six children of M’Vess and Va’Rirr JoNs, had been killed in action back in the year 2375. Yet, there he stood in the doorway, frozen in time at the age of thirty one -- the same age that Left Ear was now – looking hale and hearty. When his body had finally arrived home after the battle, the burns and disfigurement had made him almost unrecognizable. The female Caitian stood from her spot on the bed and slowly walked over to him. She spared a glance down at herself, and saw that she too was wearing her own mourning robe from that day as well. The colors matched M’Rirrs robe, but her colors were reversed to red and black. When laying the remains of a fallen member to rest, the immediate family wore the same colors as the deceased but the pattern was reversed. The shared familial garb was a sign of respect but also a sign of separation from the one who was now deceased. Left Ear stopped in front of her brother, and placed two big brown paws on his chest; she felt warmth coming from him, as if he were still alive. M’Rirr in turn placed his two strong paws on his shorter sister’s shoulders, and calmly waited for her to speak. Even though M’Rirr was of the lion genetic, and his brown furred sister was of the less common panther genetics that ran through the JoNs bloodline, there was no doubt that they were brother and sister because they both sported the same deep green eyes. Now, both sets of those eyes locked onto one another with a deep understanding that can only be shared with siblings. “ … this isn’t a good situation is it?” “Not if I am here, and you are here, and we are both standing here in your old bedroom.” “ … how?” “Well … chances are something happened to you, and the physical damage must be pretty extensive if your mental defenses kicked in and made your mind check out to the memory of this place …. I assume your body is probably fighting the physical damage right now.” The brown furred female looked away from him and out the window for a moment, and then her intense green eyes found his again. “Any idea what happened? I just have this fuzzy image of getting … shot or something … “ M’Rirr started to speak and then hesitated, looking away from his sister for a moment. His ears went flat in distress. “What’s the matter? Please tell me M’Rirr.” The big lion like Caitian looked back at his slightly shorter panther like sister, and after another moment of hesitation, he had decided to tell her what he could about the entire situation. “Look M‘Vess …. I haven’t been of your world in a long time. I can’t see the past, and I can’t see the future, but every once in a while we can be pulled to a family member if the connection is strong enough in real time. In this case, you have that connection because you are so badly injured … when I look at you, really look at you and concentrate … I’m getting a faint visual image of the injury, like a computer grid overlay or whatever. You have multiple penetration and puncture wounds going on all across your neck, chest and shoulder … like shrapnel clocked you or something.” Her paws tightened on his chest. He quickly shook his head, and tightened his own paw grip on his sister’s shoulders. “Forget it M’Vess, forget I said anything. You’re here for whatever reason, and I’m here. Let’s make the most of it, okay?” She looked away from him and out the window again; a small flock of itzan birds flew by the window, chirping happily away in the early morning breeze. Left Ear was determined not to cry, but the eyes she again fixed on her brother were a bit watery. “Fine. If I need to be here, then I need to be here. I might as well make the most of it. It has been a long time since we piloted the old hover cycles across the plains, hasn’t it?” = = = = = The time lag could have been an hour, or two hours, or it might have been five days for all Left Ear JoNs knew about or was aware of. Time had no meaning in the nether world that she now found herself in. M’Rirr JoNs, long deceased, flew his cycle and enjoyed the moment. Left Ear JoNs, currently serving as the first officer to the Excalibur and literally swooping away from the Reaper on her own hover cycle, enjoyed this strange twilight reunion with her elder brother and roared across the plains with him, the same plains that had always surrounded their childhood home on the Hisstasha Province of the planet Cait. The two adult siblings played together now much as they had as children and young teens, darting around one another, buzzing the plains animals and getting an annoyed roar in return, and flying at breakneck speeds. However, this moment of play between the two siblings was on borrowed time, and tragedy lashed out once again and struck without mercy. A burning pain sliced through Left Ear’s shoulder and neck, and her chest seized up, making it hard for her to draw a breath. The feline crashed her hover cycle into the ground, and flew over the handlebars to land in a heap about five feet from where the cycle had gone down. She had taken this same nasty fall years ago from the cycle, but instead of the accident replaying itself as it had happened then during this fantasy twilight that she was experiencing, the fall was now directly connected to the medical difficulties that the feline was having as an injured patient in the USS Excalibur’s Intensive Care Unit. M’Rirr had his own hover cycle powered down within seconds and jerked it roughly down to the flat ground, landing the cycle unceremoniously and jumping off the vehicle before it came to a complete stop. He ran full tilt to the writhing form of his downed sister and quickly knelt down and took her head in his big paws, trying to steady her head as her body continued to spasm. Left Ear was in distress and was foaming at the mouth and coughing up blood as she tried to speak. The spittle and blood sprayed across his chest as she involuntarily spewed out the liquids, but M’Rirr payed the wetness no mind. His own gaze fixed directly onto his sisters eyes, and he tried to speak clearly to her even though her eyes had glazed over, hoping that her auditory senses would pick up on his voice. “M’Vess, please fight it! Stay with your lifetime! C’mon baby I know you can fight … “ The feline Starfleet officer felt herself drifting away from her brother and the sound of his voice became distant to her keen ears. Her vision went gray and the sharp tang of antiseptic assailed her nostrils. Her vision then refocused, and she found herself staring up at the bright lights of the operating theater in the medical bay. Her body experienced another wracking bout of pain, but she couldn’t get enough breath to scream and a foamy spray of blood and spittle spewed out of her mouth yet again. Collapsing back onto the bio bed pallet, the last sounds that Left Ear JoNs heard where the distorted beeps and pings of the various medical instruments going haywire as they monitored her deteriorating condition, and the various shouts and orders being vocalized by the medical staff as they worked to stabilize her and save her life. Trying to fight but losing the battle, the feline executive officer again slipped into an unconscious state of blackness.

06.29.08 Excalibur Mission Update: TBS: Five Hours The Excalibur remains docked at the Aiesse Three space station and the search for the elusive Boganary and the Crownstone continues: - The recon away teams were mildly successful, and found out that there is at least one Boganary of repute (or is that Ill repute?) who has a lot of “street cred” among the clans: Auntie Wort. This Boggie and her clan might know where the Crownstone is, or at least worth talking to. The Wort resides in a lovely little planetary area known as the Thicket. - Representatives from engineering and medical ventured onto the station in order to resupply the departmental ship stores. Elsewhere, the excrement has impacted with the rotary oscillating device. Got an umbrella? You are going to need it to avoid the splatter: Note: plot log: http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=16258 ("Baby NOT on Board" takes place thirty minutes before the 06.29.08 sim) - A Boganary raiding party breached the ships sensors and general security perimeter in the dead of night. - The medical bay was the primary area compromised, medical supplies were taken, baby Julie Zier was kidnapped, and the XO was critically injured. - Doctors Wydown and Wilson worked to get the XO stabilized. - The Aiesse Port Authority was informed of the situation. - Eight total outbound flights were being tracked after the incident as possible suspects in the raid and attack. Captain Corizon ordered Lieutenant Kallah Ramson to scramble her fighter crews so they could shadow the outbound flights in question. - Ships security was of course, looking into the matter internally. - Doctors Maria and Alexander Zier could not do much other then grieve for their missing baby.

06.29.08 Excalibur Chat MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur has been docked for about twelve hours now, the away teams have started to rondevouz with the mothership, while Corizon and Odile went off on a little adventure of their own. As we open, the aforementioned Dog and Xenexian are making their way back to the ship, while in Medical the proverbial dung is about to hit the fan. 080629_Excal_Chat_Log.txt

Note: this log takes place thirty minutes prior to the start of the 06.29.08 sim 06.28.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004C “Baby NOT On Board” Commander Left Ear JoNs sat in the command chair on the main bridge of the Excalibur, having nothing much to do other then signing off on reports. After the Boganary run and gun attack on the ship after they had warped into the sector, and then the away team recon mission trudging through the Aiesse Three space station tracking down supplies and any information on the Crownstone or the Boganary people, the change in pace was a welcome diversion. The feline exec was tired, but as always her conditioning hid it well. The Caitian executive officer was pulling third shift bridge duty, and the ship remained in a docking berth at the space station. Or rather, the crew remained docked at the galactic dive that passed itself off as a space station. It wasn’t exactly the safest port of call here in the quadrant, but it would serve their purposes while the recon teams hunted around for much needed supplies and the correct Boganary clan to contact about the Crownstone of the Ascendent. All of the teams that had ventured onto the station had done very well in procuring the information needed with regard to the Crownstone and which Boggie clan might be in possession of the trinket. In fact, the individual reports that JoNs was currently perusing where chock full of information -- on the quadrant in general as well as the elusive Boggies and their network of clans -- that could be exploited. Now, they just needed to find this Thicket base of ops that this Auntie Wort operated from, and in the process try and avoid tangling with any of the clan guard ships again. Granted, there wasn’t much to do while sitting in space dock, and the bridge was functioning under a skeleton crew, even more so during the third shift. As she gazed at the officer manning the operations console, the feline got an idea. Lieutenant Warfield had applied for a transfer to the first shift, so perhaps it was time to see how he would handle being left in charge of the bridge. It was a quiet third shift with the ship parked in dock, and there was no better opportunity for a junior officer to take command for a little on the job training, even if the ship was going no where. The feline stood and gazed at the ensign, who had visually locked onto her when she had moved with anticipatory eyes. “Orders sir?” Yeah, he was just as bored stiff as she was. “Ensign Warfield, I’ll be making a quick visit to the sickbay to check on a patient. You have the bridge.” She smiled and flipped an ear back. Warfield stared at her for a few seconds, and then comprehension finally dawned on his fair skinned features, the understanding look intermixed with equal parts trepidation and the desire to do a bang up job of commanding. “Aye sir.” “Comm me if you need me for anything and I’ll be back up here as soon as possible, hear me?” “Aye sir.” With a switch of her tail and a curt nod to the young officer, the Caitian senior officer left the bridge. = = = = = = = = A short while later, the brown furred feline was entering the medical bay, and the patient she was interesting in seeing was her god child, baby Julie Zier. The little infant had come down with a nasty ear infection, which had brooked a high fever. A high fever in any infant of any species was a worry point. So, to head off any possible problem situations, the baby had been moved to the sickbay to be monitored for a couple of days. As soon as she stepped through the entrance way, Lieutenant Call, a junior grade human medical tech, greeted the senior officer from her post at the receiving desk. “Evening Commander. What can I do for you?” The slim human put aside the medical tricorder she had been reading from. “I’m actually here to check in on your smallest patient.” “Oh okay. You just missed Alex; he headed down to the main mess to grab a bite to eat.” “He’s watching over the baby tonight?” “Aye sir. He and Maria are taking turns staying with the baby.” “Good. Mind if I head back to the temporary nursery area?” She indicated the back section of the medical offices with a paw. “Go right ahead sir. I’ll sign you in and note the time of your arrival for the shift records.” The Caitian quickly and quietly walked through the outer medical bay and entered the far care ward. Julie was laying on one of the biobeds set toward the front just as you entered the area. The baby was awake and cooing slightly and so very gently so as not to startle the youngster, the feline quietly approached the bio bed. The last time JoNs had laid eyes on the baby, she had been screaming her lungs out, so the feline could only assume that Doctor Wydown and the rest of the medical staff had synthesized the correct concoction of medication to ease the acute systems of the baby’s painful ear infection. Left Ear slowly passed a paw through the blue medical bio force field surrounding the baby, and gently patted the little one on the belly of her bright yellow cotton jumpsuit. Julie cooed and smiled and fussed, batting a tiny hand at the large brown paw. The usually serious Caitian smiled and in a moment of tenderness started blathering like an idiot in the language commonly known as baby talk. = = = = = = = = Five intruders materialized in the secondary quarter section of the medical area, in an auxiliary corridor set just off the main medical bay. A heavy whiff of ozone permeated the area, an indication that these strangers employed older or low grade civilian transporter technology. And yet, this low grade non military technology was enabling them to bypass the Excal’s general security defenses and fool the ships on board alert sensors. It was a common misconception that lower grade civilian technology was less desirable then the so called higher grade military technology. In reality, if you knew how to manipulate and tweak the civilian brand technology, the resulting sensor bypasses that could be performed were rather formidable. The strangers ranged in height from five foot five inches to the tallest one who stood at about five foot eight inches. A couple of them had warts blemishing their otherwise smooth skin, and all of them had a greenish colored skin, ranging in hue from a greenish yellow to a dark green color. Their ears were long and pointed, and a bulbous nose was set between wide eyes and above a wide mouth full of sharp and yellowed teeth. The weapons they brandished were a mish mash of technologies and time periods; projectile guns, axes, a sword, and energy disruptors were strapped securely onto ammo belts worn around the waist or across the chest. Their clothing was also mis-matched as well, with leathers and cloth and bits and pieces of various materials all sewn together. Scrap metals were used as chest protectors, gauntlets, or leg guards, and offered protection as crude armor. Long black and greasy hair completed the pirate raider picture. A clan of the Boganary had boarded the Excalibur in order to do what they did best – collecting. The five Boganary burst through the sickbay entrance doors and tossed a crude sonic grenade as they did so. The grenade detonated, and the digital shockwave took out the security camera sensors that recorded for the medical bay. Lieutenant Call was startled and leapt up from her chair at the receiving desk. An axe haft cracked across the nurses’ face, and the woman was rendered unconscious before she hit the deck plates. The Boganary raiders then began helping themselves to medical supplies and medications, moving quickly and quietly like a well organized wolf pack. “Lieutenant Call, what was that noise? Is everything going alright out…? “ Left Ear stopped in mid sentence when she spotted who and what was going on, instinctively dropping into a fighting crouch. Her paw flew toward her communicator badge in an effort to call for some help. One of the yellowish green Boganary whirled around at the interruption, firing a ramshackle shotgun made of piping and shuttlecraft wire casings as he did so. Nails and bits of metal exploded from the crude projectile gun and slammed full on into the feline executive officer; she was spun halfway around from the force of the blast and then dropped flat on her stomach. The numbness of the impact faded away to be replaced by pain exploding across her right upper chest, neck and shoulder. JoNs tried to crawl away from the danger, but went nowhere fast as she slipped closer and closer to unconsciousness in order to escape the paralyzing pain. One of the taller pirate invaders rushed forward to smack a gnarled hand against the snub nosed double barrel of the shotgun-like weapon, knocking the gun downward and stopping the first Boganary from firing off another shot at the cat. The universal translator tech sensors wired throughout the ship hadn’t quite deciphered all of the Boganary language yet, or at least the sub-dialect that this band of cutthroats were using. Only every second or third word spoken by the raiding party was recognizable, but it was clear that the taller Boganary who had stepped in and stopped the attack on the cat was berating the shorter one in the harsh sounding language. Apparently, weapons discharge had not been part of the plan because it wasted valuable ammunition. The trigger happy Boganary was roughly sent on his way by his cohorts with orders to investigate the remainder of the medical offices and care wards. A third member of the motley band merely rolled JoNs over with a clawed foot and stared down at the injured and semi conscious Caitian officer with a calculating look in his eyes. Ignoring the blood pouring from her wounds, he grabbed at her communicator badge and rank pin, mistaking the bright looking alloys for silver or gold or an equally valuable metal. The final two members of the raiding party, both of a darker green coloring then the other three, had calmly continued looting the medical facility, working through the commotion as if they saw beings shot or knocked out every other day. Then again, maybe they did. The younger looter emerged from the back areas after a few tense minutes, cradling the little baby. Julie, while not crying out right, was fussy because on an instinctual level she knew that she was not among family or those on the ship that cared about her. The third Boganary, the white haired one who had stolen the shiny trinkets from the cat, took the baby from his younger co-hort. “You idiot … static … you can’t … static … hold … young … static … correctly.” Then, a fierce but brief argument followed, and the dirtball raiders decided that the small one was indeed a prize to be taken back to the Auntie because the baby youngling had been in the bed surrounded by the blue air weave protection. Such a high value prize would make a fine addition to the clan stories, and would surely trump the lame conquest story of the Tika clan that had been making the rounds among the clan fleets; those Tika’s wouldn’t know a good prize or how to pull off a good raid if their lives depended on it. The Boganary raiders beamed off of the Excalibur as quietly as they had come on board, leaving several lives forever changed in their prize looting wake.

06.22.08 MISSION BRIEF: Engineering has informed the Captain of the extensive damage to the field coils. With few choices, the Excalibur is proceeding at Warp 3 towards the base that the covert teams were originally going to deploy too, in hopes of replacing the coils. Meanwhile, the crew must decide how to proceed with the rest of their mission and hope the Boganary don't show up again. 080622_Excal_Chat_Log.txt

06.22.08 Mission Update: TBS: 4 Days The Excalibur has been docked at the Aiesse Three space station for 12 Hours Two away teams have been dispatched onto the station in order to perform recon. The station is considered to be very rough and tumble and just shy of total lawless anarchy: - Team Leader: Commander Laarell Teykier - Team Members: Lieutenant Victria, Lieutenant Tristan Xenatos, and Lieutenant jg Tia - Objectives: general recon of the station, and locate any information on the Crownstone of the Ascendent and the mysterious Boganary clans - Team Leader: Commander Left Ear JoNs - Team Members: Commander Tandaris Admiran, Lieutenant Commander Rue Wydown, Lieutenant Mark Garrison - Objectives: Supplies (medical and engineering), general recon of the station, any information that can be obtained on the Boganary clans and the location of the Crownstone of the Ascendant In addition, during the flight time to the space station, Lieutenant Kallah Ramsons fighter squads remain on alert and have been doing regular patrol runs to ensure that the Excal does not encounter any more Boganary laced surprises. Those officers remaining on the Excalibur during the dock time are to perform their regular duty rotations and offer whatever aid the recon teams need.

06.15.08 Excalibur Sim: - The crew of the Excal entered into Boganary space for the first stage of the current mission to locate the missing Crownstone of the Satarimi, taken many years ago by the Boganary clan-people. The plan is to warp to Aiesse Three, a space station that seems a likely central starting point within this unknown territory in order to gather some more information on the Boganary, and maybe which clan might now have the Crownstone. - Of course, things do not go smoothly, and sensors soon detect a fleet of vessels shadowing the Excalibur. This fleet continues to close in on the warship, until finally the ships are revealed as a group of Boganary. A diplomatic hail from Captain Corizon is met with laughter, and shots are then exchanged between the Excalibur and the lead ships of the Boganary fleet. The ships and fighter craft who engage the Excal are a mish mash of various sizes, equipment, and defenses, but one thing is completely clear - for all of the haphazard look of this particular Boganary clan fleet, their weapons are powerful and not to be taken lightly. - Not a very encouraging start to the quest to find the Crownstone, but no one ever said being a Starfleet Officer was easy.

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur is enroute to our first stop off in our search for the Boganary and this Crownstone. We're about two days out from the spaceport we're headed to and have crossed into their space. Prep work for the mission ahead continues. 080615_Excal_Chat_Log.txt

Note: some mature content. 06.01.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “Recreational Activities” “You, really, need to learn how to deal with stress.” - “Walk Ins Welcome”, Lt. Cmdr. Doctor Ruth Wydown, Chief Medical Officer to Commander Left Ear JoNs, Executive Officer Commander Left Ear JoNs had never been one to disregard orders, and therefore was taking the advice that Doctor Wydown had given her the other day to heart. Usually, the executive officer balked when shore leave came around, because there was too much paper work, or this needed to be done, or that report needed to be followed up on. It was the third day of the first contact engagement mission with the Satarimi, and Left Ear was taking full advantage of the open shore leave opportunity that the planetary authorities had granted the Excalibur crew. She had done a complete one eighty degree turn from her earlier predilections to stay on board the ship. The simple fact was that the Caitian exec had allowed the stress of her command staff duties to get the better of her, to the point where it had truly become a pain in the arse and she needed to seek medical attention. That had to be remedied, and ASAP, before anything started to interfere with her command objectivity. Why not start with some leave time? The feline certainly had the accrued leave time coming to her. The Caitian officer had therefore grabbed her cycle gear, bolted from the ship quietly and quickly, leaving any paper work and reports for when she returned, and had told the captain and only the captain that she could be reached by communicator if something came up and he needed her. The only other person she had contacted was Wydown, and had merely left the chief medico a cryptic message in her inbox: see you in the clouds, and watch out for the aero rip curls. JoNs wasted no time after beaming down to the main cloud city, and her search had only lasted about an hour until she had located the establishment that she was looking for: an agency that rented out the lower atmosphere hover cycles that she had spotted zipping around the skies during the walking tours. The rental agency was located on the outskirts of the main cloud city, and was a well maintained section of property, as were the vehicles. The blue skinned Satarimi kid manning the place looked as if he had just woken up or had smoked a bit too much of the ocean reef weed the night before or something, but he perked up and became even more helpful when Left Ear slipped him a credit tip in addition to the rental fee. At that point, the feline got access to the better (or rather, the better maintained cycles), and the tutorial session about how to handle the cycle was cut in half by about twenty minutes. After slapping on her gear, the feline jumped on the hover cycle and took off in a plume of exhaust into what was literally the wild blue yonder. The white colored atmo cycle that she had chosen handled like a dream, and was really no different from the civilian models that she had grown up riding on Cait. The most noticeable addition to the Satarimi model were two sets of upper and lower wings that were set flush up against the forward sides of the cycle and then could be extended outward when needed. The wings were a mechanical necessity here on the Satarimi cloud world, and when deployed, they allowed for more maneuverability and control of the hover cycle within the various air currents. Left Ear flew cautiously for a short while, not pulling any fancy moves and such, until she was completely comfortable with the cycle. As the morning wore on, the Caitian first officer dived and weaved in the azure blue skies, dodging clouds and going further and further out away from the main city, letting her piloting skills roar to the forefront and take over completely. Occasionally, she would glimpse another cycle in the distance or a hover vehicle or short range flitter traversing the clouds, or a water based vehicle traveling across the ocean areas, but for the most part it was just her and the open range of the skies. The synthetic leather gear that she wore protected her from the winds, and the amber face plate on her helmet cut the glare of the world’s sun down to almost nothing. Suddenly, a black shape zoomed past JoNs, almost causing a collision and certainly alarming Left Ear. Gloved paws gripped her handlebars tight and she slammed a rear paw down on the shifter, dropping the cycle down to the lowest gear as she simultaneously pulled on the hand brake with a front paw. The brazen rider then had the gall to stop a short distance ahead and hover, facing toward her. JoNs flipped her face plate up and prepared to tell the rider where exactly where he could shove his exhaust pipe. Before she could form the words and get the snarl out, the rider dipped their cycle’s wings in an unmistakable gesture that needed no translator or interpreter. The feline blinked a few times in surprise. He wants to run together? Her temper cooled down, and she took deep breath. “Well friend, the almost blitz is at least one way to get my attention.” She flipped her face plate back down and acknowledged the gesture with her own wing dip. = = = = = = = = = = The riders played all morning and well into the afternoon, pushing the hover cycles to the limits, as well as their own piloting skills to the brink. In the clouds, out of the clouds, diving down to the water and then pulling the bikes up just at the last minute, zooming farther and farther out and away from the city. It was a game of tag shared among adults for lack of a better term. The unknown rider then pulled up the sleek black and custom atmo runner they rode, pumping the gear shift down to a neutral hover with a booted foot. Gloved hands reached up to pull a helmet off, revealing a Satarimi with the typical high cheekbones, blue skin, and white hair of his people. He sat there, smiling, and waited for his newfound playmate to pull up beside him. Left Ear smoothly flew in beside the Satarimi male, and her white cycle soon purred with the same neutral hover setting the other cyclist. When she pulled off her own helmet however, it was his turn to be surprised. The blue skinned elf type of humanoid sat on his cycle for a good few seconds, just blinking as the look of surprised settled across his high cheekbones. Then, his features split into a wide grin, showing pure white teeth. “You’re a Felis?” It was her turn to be pleased that she had blitzed him. “Caitian to be exact. Left Ear JoNs,” the feline pulled off her glove and offered him a paw across the small space in between the bikes, “nice to meet you.” He seemed unsure of the offered gesture - a very human gesture, even by the Cait’s standards - at first, but then quickly adapted. “Lamir S’Torim. It is a pleasure. I had no idea you were one of the off worlders that have been touring our cities and the planetary sites these last few days.” He grinned even wider once he caught a glimpse of JoNs’s tail as it lashed lazily behind her, endlessly pleased that she, well, had a tail. A true felis was a rare pleasure. “The crew of the Excalibur, my crew and fellow officers, got some shore leave time cleared with your government officials.” The wonderment in his eyes was refreshing, and she was also getting caught up in the moment. Even after all of the tours, demonstrations, and banquet meals provided by the Satarimi during the first contact events, Left Ear hadn’t really interacted with any of the planets citizens on a personal level until now. Lamir tilted his head to one side and smiled, the combined gestures giving him an almost rakish appearance. “What are you doing tonight?” = = = = = = = = = = The restaurant that Lamir had chosen was for lack of a better term, a dive. Situated on the north side of the main cloud city, it was a bar located on one of the upper tiers of the city, and catered to the hover cycle crowd. Bright neon strips set into the edges of the plasti-glass tables and overhead lighting made from the same materials offered illumination, and a live band played some sort of modern rock Satarimi tune on the other side of the bar. If the music and general party atmosphere of the main bar wasn’t your thing, there were rooms set up off to the sides that boasted games similar to poker and what looked like pool and darts and another game that Left Ear didn’t immediately recognize. Dozens of synthetic leather clad Satarimi, each sporting different jackets that were emblazoned with various hover cycle chapters or no affiliation at all, offered patronage to the bar. There were even a few Satarimi that represented the local police force that patrolled the outer limits of the cities on hover cycles. It was a loud, raucous, and a vivacious night. And while there was some interest in the feline first officer, the general opinion among the blue skinned crowed was “oh look, a Felis, you’re with the alien ship in orbit? Great, let’s get back to the party”. In short, Left Ear JoNs was off duty, on leave, and having the time of her life. Oh, and the bar may have been a dive, but the food was delicious. = = = = = = = = = = Racing the hover bikes had led to a chance meeting, then dinner, and then a night out on the town. The shared activities between the night elf-like Satarimi and the feline Caitian had then led to another activity: the shared pleasure of the carnal variety back at Lamir’s apartment flat. The wee hours of the night as time faded into daylight had been even more supercharged then the earlier racing they had done. The Caitian first officer was now convinced of one thing: being a reclusive race didn’t necessarily mean that the Satarimi were sheltered or unwilling to deal with outsiders, at least when applying that knowledge to certain individuals. Left Ear stood leaning against the side of the large and open picture window in Lamir’s bed room, which led out onto a balcony overlooking the lower tiers of the city. She was naked and in all her brown furred glory with her powerful panther-like physique outlined in silhouette by the rising sun. The view was gorgeous, with light spraying across the cottony clouds and bringing out the rich blue color of the worlds skies. The breeze coming off the ocean below was fresh, sweet, and intoxicating. Lamir walked up behind the feline, and his own movements were cat like and graceful. Placing one hand on her shoulder, he let his free left hand rest flat on her belly, gently rubbing in circles and eliciting a pleasurable purring sound from JoNs. She in turn pressed back, melding her body with his; her tail curled tightly around his knee and lower calf. He inhaled deeply into her fur, taking in her scent. “How much longer do you have on the planet?” “I have a couple more hours’ dirt side. I need to report back to the Excalibur by twenty two hundred. As the XO, I could probably hedge and report in later, but that tends to set a bad example for some of the more adventuresome crew people.” She nuzzled the azure blue skin of his neck with her nose, and then turned around to face him, gently placing her paws on his chest and stroking him. Both of his hands now worked her upper back and lower back, kneading and rubbing the furred and pliant flesh in deep massaging motions. Left Ear hooked her big paws behind his neck and kissed him deeply; Lamir returned the kiss. Catching some sleep and eating breakfast were overrated, indeed.

Well, I'm sure this can count as a special academy event - starting June 3 the Tuesday 9PM EST acads are bringing back the dreaded Pandarians for a run of chaos and insanity .... I don't think the "not dying' will be included however.

“Walk Ins Welcome” Doctor Rue Wydown and Commander L.E. JoNs Commander Left Ear JoNs stalked down the corridor toward the medical bay, upright and looking very senior officer-ish in her dress white jacket and black duty trousers. She nodded in polite greeting to a couple of third shift crew people that passed her at the entrance doors, and then disappeared into the confines of the main medical area as the doors whooshed open to admit the feline. Once inside however, she allowed herself to hunch forward a bit and her right paw flew back to grasp at her lower back; the pain was getting to be unbearable. A low purred groan vocalized the Caits discomfort. Feet shoulders width apart. Arms outstretched in a 'flying airplane' pantomime for balance. Body sideways, head facing forwards. Bobbing. Weaving. Ducking. Rue Wydown was 'surfing' the solar winds. Or at least in her imagination she was. If given the means and opportunity, the Doctor would have been one of the first ones soaring through the clouds. She had not the opportunity, or the nerve for that matter, to ask...yet. Instead she was taking an imaginary trip back on of the medical bay cubicles. Left Ear was in a bit of pain, and her panther like features were drawn with the fatigue of dealing with it all day. The walking tours of the Satarimi city had been absolutely fantastic, and the banquet dinner signaling the close of the events of day one had been equally interesting. But now, the brown furred feline was paying the piper for the tension and excitement (not to mention the constant standing of the various meet and greets) of the days events. "Doctor ....," it would have been rude to call for Doctor Anybody, so she decided to go with the head medico, "Doctor Wydown?" "Oi!" Rue dropped her arms, an audible slapping noise as she hit her thighs in the process. Peeking around the corner, she check to see who was standing at the door, then grinned. "ello there! Sorry 'bout that. Was doing some paperwork." A minor fib, but explaining what she was doing to anyone outside of the late shift would be pointless. Not to mention embarrassing. "Can I help you?" The first officer winced, "Doctor, I apologize for the late hour, but I seem to have this pain in the arse. And, no, I'm not talking about paperwork." The joke might have gone over well, but JoNs was a bit too stressed to entirely pull it off. She leaned her free paw on a nearby desk with her other paw still clamped to the lower back area. "What has got your hackles up this time?" Wydown picked up a tricorder and walked over, motioning with a free hand towards one of the biobeds. "You look like you're ready to twist yourself into a pretzel. C'mon now. Let's see what's going on." She frowned with concern. Hackles up was an accurate description. JoNs's neck fur had risen due to the constant onslaught of the searing pain, and her ears had almost gone permanently flat, and both gestures in combination looked odd on the normally unflappable commander. The feline allowed herself to be led over to the indicated bio bed, and then with some grunting and general hissing of displeasure, bent halfway over with her paws set down on the surface of the bed. "I was fine, hsssssss, this morning. But as the day went on with all the hoopla, it really flared up...." "This is worse than the last time I saw you. You been doing those exercises?" Rue pulled out the wand from the tricorder's storage compartment, activated it, and then started to slowly draw the wand through the air between them. She allowed herself a moment or two to be lost in thought as she watched the machinery do it's magic with the diagnostics. "Why didn't you say something earlier?" Left Ear took a good ten seconds too long to answer regarding the exercises. "Aye, I have been doing them, but haven't really gotten it down in a routine yet. As for speaking out, well, with the Satarimi first contact events, I couldn't exactly step aside or fade out of sight. The excitement, and probably my command tension didn't help at all ..." Another hiss of pain escaped. Rue looked up, stared at her patient for a moment with one eyebrow cocked. She knew better, but to be honest, the Cait was a grown adult and knew the consequences. No point in arguing with her. Instead she wrinkled her nose as she crossed over to the medicine cabinet, decided to implement a diversionary tactic as she prepared a treatment for the tensed up XO. "Wasn't that Rain Shaping absolutely fantastic? I mean....Fan-Tas-Tic!" Grinning, the Doctor glanced over her shoulder. JoNs managed to half turn without falling out or down, or screaming in pain, etc, and regarded the doctor. A gentle smile creased her brown muzzle, and she allowed a brief moment of the "non officer" explorer personality to come through. "Wasn't that though? And the city itself - imagine living in those clouds twenty four seven?" As she picked up the vial of medicine and prepared the hypospray, Wydown continued to speak. "I know! Absolutely brilliant! Totally untethered to the world below. But boy does that bring up a lot of questions. I think I've been talking the ear off our guide today. You know I saw him at the Rain Shaping, and unless it was my imagination, but I think I saw him retreating to the other side of the gathering when I saw he saw I spotted him. I can't help it though... they have to have an immense amount of knowledge to have a floating civilization." Left Ear got a twinge, winced, and then allowed the wave of pain to pass before she spoke again, although her purred voice came out a bit fainter. "Well, Earth hasn't progressed that far with a floating city, nor has Cait. And the concept of Rain Shaping? The Mental prowess required to handle all that during the water demonstration? The Satarimi seem very advanced, culturally and technology wise." "Okay, so I can ask you a question that is puzzling me." Rue returned to the biobed, absentmindedly twirling the hypospray like a baton. "What really made them decide to build up in the clouds? I mean, if the were sort of a mentor colony as our guide stated, and your land masses just sank into the sea - why not swan off to another planet? Better yet, why not a floating city on the water? Why go up? Who's the bloke who said 'Oi, those clouds look nice. Bet we would be better off there then down here in the muck.' Was he sea sick or just a bit of a nutter’s?" She stopped in front of JoNs's bed, still twirling the hypospray as if she'd forgotten she had in the first place. Commander JoNs looked at the whirling hypo with longing for two seconds before turning her attention back on Doc Wydown. "Well, an oceanic and tectonic upheaval can be traumatic, I am sure; maybe the Satarimi just wanted to avoid any further incidents and went with the thin air option - literally?" The uptight XO was enjoying the conversation immensely, but another lower back spasm caused her to let loose with a small yelp. "You, really, need to learn how to deal with stress." Rue motioned with the hypospray before moving closer to her fur. There's no way the Doctor wanted to see those claws by any sudden movement on her part, so she gave ample warning before parting an area of the fur and depressing the hypospray into the skin with a low hiss. "How much warning do you think they got? I mean before the land masses went south, literally." JoNs leaned further down into the bio bed with a sigh of relief; the contents of the hypo started working right away, and the "pain in the arse" started to diminish to where she could tolerate it. When she finally answered Rue, some of the stress lines on her feline features had dissipated. "I'd say not much, considering they hightailed it to the clouds as the final result of the planetary changeover." Wydown laid the hypospray down on the biobed. "But the logistics to move that amount of people into the skies that quickly? I don't see how it can be done. They must have less of a bureaucratic mess than we do. Or they've just got excellent civic emergency management techniques. Can ye imagine if we'd have tried it? You can't bloody well blow your nose at HQ without filling out a form in triplicate...and having it notarized." Rue plopped down on a stool next to the biobed, writing out instructions on a PADD. "Wish I was that clever." The first officer tentatively stood from her half bent over position across the bio bed, pleased that she could move now without the pain; she placed a paw on her lower back and twisted a bit to the side, flexing the still sore muscles the rest of the way. "Maybe they really didn't have a choice? For all we know, they could have lost half the population before all was said and done with the tectonic upheaval, the cloud cities could have been a reactionary afterthought?" Left Ear's tail fur and neck ruff had smoothed down as well with the absence of the back pain. "What can I say. I'm nosey. I'm about as interested in history as I am in medicine. Which I know is weird. But then again, you have to be weird to work the night shift." She finished out the last of her instructions before standing herself. "Ice your back. 15 to 20 minutes. 3 to 4 times a day. After that, then heat. Again, no more than 15 to 20 minutes. Hot water showers will work, but don't waste your water allotment if you have to. Sonic showers will do some good, but use a heating pad afterwards." Rue then stared at JoNs sternly. "And *continue* those exercises. If you need demonstration or help, let me know. I'd be happy to help." She didn't acknowledge whether or not the XO had actually been following the instructions, only that Wydown hoped that she'd try to follow through. She handed the PADD to the Commander. Left Ear got a stony look across her features, the universal command staff look that basically projected to a medical team “don't preach to me". Then, her features relaxed into a wry look and smile, accepting what Wydown was telling her because the medico was right. Did the feline exec really want to half crawl into the medical bay again in so much pain she was almost in tears? No way. Besides, JoNs's instincts were telling her getting on Rue's bad side was really not .... healthy, for lack of a better term. The feline took the offered PADD in a powerful paw. "Aye Doctor. I'll continue, I promise, and if I have any questions, I'll come here for some help." "Good." Twenty years of experience had taught her not to push it with patients. Instead she gave her a cheeky grin, as she relaxed. "So, one last question. Think the Satarimi have heard of solar surfing?" Rue did a little pounce into surfing position, teasing the Commander one last time before she departed. "Or would it be against first contact protocol to demonstrate?" “Well, we do have one day of leave coming to the crew,” The Caitian officer glanced around the medical bay to make sure no one heard her, before finally fixing Wydown with a genuine look of happiness and continued speaking in a low tone, "You go solar surfing, and I'll grab one of those atmo cycles I saw, and we won't tell the Captain. I don't think it would cause too much of an intergalactic incident Doctor." She winked at the medical officer. "Fantastic!"

I'm just going to stalk and pounce some unsuspecting non-Excal officer during the next Shoreleave. Make a little love. Get down tonight.

05.07.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004C “Guinevere Jocks” After having the ship temporarily delayed in a sector of space which was a violent waypoint for various realities as they overlapped and wreaked havoc with the current timeline and universe, it was nice to get back to some semblance of normality. Well, perhaps I should rephrase that another way: that return to normal was provided that you were not on a quest to locate the Founders and a blood cult and your current lead was an ancient and reclusive species known to you only as the Satarimi, had run into a snobby Vorta who had delusions of galactic power or conquest, and had a Captain who did not excel at the making friends part of Diplomacy 101. It was only a matter of time before the Excalibur found herself being shot at again, so I was going to make the best out of this lull that I could. Epsilon squad needed to be rebuilt and I had given my word to Lieutenant Ramson that I would help her with that to the best of my piloting ability, and perhaps a little bit more. I must confess that the idea of teaching fighter jocks again has a lot of personal appeal for me, even if they are green. I was mainly puttering around the small auxiliary office set just off the main hanger deck that had been scrounged up by the chief of the deck. It was sparse, and simple; a desk, a small shelf storage area, and a locker where my personal flight equipment could be stored when I wasn’t helping with the jock training. And for the time being I’d be dividing my time between the flight deck and my executive officer duties while the Epsilon’s were brought back to working flight status, which I was hoping would be sooner rather then later. “Commander JoNs?” Lieutenant Sorvas politely stood in the doorway. He was a senior Lancelot fighter pilot from one of the other squads temporarily assigned to me on detached duty as an aide. The Vulcan officer had more of a sense of humor then I did, so that was saying something. He wore his midnight black hair in a severe crew cut, earning him the call sign of Slick. He, like myself, was outfitted in the black jumpsuit of an Excalibur pilot. “Aye Lieutenant?” “The two Guinevere Heavy Bomber replacement candidates are on the deck and at attention, awaiting your assignment orders.” “Thank you Lieutenant. I’ll be out shortly.” Within a couple of minutes I found myself striding across the hanger deck to the area that had been set aside for the pre training debriefings or post mission debriefings (or bawling out, depending on how badly the junior pilots had mucked up). I knew visually what those crewmen working the hanger deck were seeing – a large panther like feline, brown mane cut in a high and tight, brown fur glossy in the overhead lighting, hind claws clicking on the steel decking, one fore paw gripping a flight helmet with my call sign and old squadron name still embossed on the surface, tail lashing ominously. And with the scarred left ear tip and jaw line, that just added to the mystique. I was the epitome of confidence from the tip of my ears to the tips of my hind claws. In reality? I had butterflies doing the tango in my gut. It never failed. No matter how many times I flew a fighter in my career, how many training missions I either participated in or spearheaded, I always got a little sick to my stomach thanks to nerves just prior to any sort of flight hop. Once I was in planetary atmo or out in the black of space? Not a problem. Until then, I just kept as focused as I could and willed myself not to yak on the decking. I came to a stop in front of the two flight candidates that we’d be working with for the day, and Slick took over for the introductions at that point. “Attention!” Everyone was already at attention, but why ruin the mood to point that out? Tradition, indeed. “Ensign Zachary Lee, Ensign Valerie Edmonson, welcome to flight training. May I present senior Instructor Commander MVess JoNs, call sign Left Ear. Commander JoNs, allow me to introduce you to our most recent flight candidates, Ensigns Lee and Edmonson.” I raised my voice at that moment, picking up right where he had left off. “And this gentleman is my aide Lieutenant Sorvas, call sign Slick.” I swished my tail once before I continued speaking to Lee and Edmonson. “You’ll be training in the Guinevere Heavy Fighters. Edmonson, you’ll be training as the lead pilot. Lee, you’ll be taking on the co-pilot and gunner position. We only have a short while to get Epsilon squad back up and running to full capacity, so the harder we work, the sooner Lieutenant Ramson has her division back up to snuff.” I moved closer to the two young ensigns, because I wanted this next bit of conversation to be safe from any prying ears. “With all that said, I want you both to make this your posting. What happened to our Epsilon pilots was horrible … no one deserves to die that way, with every single drop of blood sucked from their bodies. And don’t either of you youngsters try and deny that the rumors are not flying left and right. I’ve gotten wind of the ghost stories making the rounds on the lower decks …” Edmonson and Lee exchanged a fast look between them. “… you two are here to do a job. Don’t let the ghosts of our dead pilots stop you from making this assignment your own. Understand me?” I waited until I got a chorus of ‘aye sirs’ before continuing. ”Questions? Edmonson?” The tall blond looked right at me; I liked the directness of her stare, and I could tell right away she had eyes like a hawk. “Sir, we won’t be Lancelot pilots?” The look on Ensign Lee’s face showed me that he too echoed the question. I felt a small smile quirk up the corner of my muzzle. “We can’t all fly the sports shuttle. I’ll admit, the Lancelot fighters are sleek, fast, and pretty. But we need heavy bomber pilots as well, and you two are it. I checked your files, and Edmonson, you have a flight background in the Runabout program, and Lee? You have past experience with the Type 11 Shuttles and the Adventure class long range scouts? Well, that’s the kind of background and skills that we need, and you two were culled from the auxiliary flight pool, and here we are.” I let the silence stretch for a few seconds before nodding to Slick; the Vulcan pilot lifted an eyebrow in confirmation and then started speaking to the flight cadets. “It is now time to go to work. You have been assigned to training simulators one and two, and we will be engaging in the basics of low atmosphere recon, enabling you to acquaint yourselves more fully with the Guinevere class’s maneuvering capabilities and general systems. Let’s move.” I started walking off the flight deck and in the direction of the secondary simulator area which contained the instructor level mock cockpit. “Commander?” I turned around and regarded Lee with some curiosity. “… you won’t be joining us in the virtual exercise?” I felt a slow, borderline feral smile worked its way across my muzzle. They were so cute at this age. “Joining you? Ensign Lee, I’ll be the one attempting to shoot your tail off. Stay sharp.” And there were no more butterflies. In my case that is.

04.30.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004C “Say What?” “Yeoman, could you please repeat that last statement? Say what?” Commander Left Ear JoNs had temporarily retreated to the Captain’s Ready Room set just off the main bridge in order to field a couple of reports from the lower decks that apparently involved her little cousin Mrrett running around and tackling unsuspecting crewmembers – as unlikely as that seemed. The gossip and the official announcements and reports had already spread like wildfire throughout the ship about their current predicament. There was nothing like being caught between several converging alternate universes to bring out the so called ghostly sightings as well as the sightings of the more physical variety. Left Ear had no doubt that Mrrett had in fact been on board the ship long enough to pounce somebody, or several people, but it certainly wasn’t her godchild. The real Mrrett. Meaning, the one from this universe. Universe overlap theory had always given her a temporal sized headache. The Caitian executive officer was sincerely hoping that the plan proposed by the senior engineers would work out as they hoped. She was a security grunt who had come up through the ranks, and anything beyond “the warp engine makes the starship go zoom zoom” was decidedly not her field of expertise. But, from what she had been able to ascertain from her conversation on the bridge with Mister Admiran, the engineering department hoped to use the engines to create a bubble about the ship in order to shield it from the temporal eddies from the alternate universes that were prevalent in this sector of space. Once the Excalibur had been shielded, then they would make their way out of the area into a more normal stretch of space. The enlisted yeoman sighed on the other end of the comm line. Why must these senior officers be so dense? “…as I had stated sir, the big gold feline came tearing around the corner and then proceeds to jump me right there in the corridor. I may have a case of rug burn. When the security patrol swept the deck, there was no sign of the cat. Did I mention the rug burn?” The panther like feline placed both paws flat on the surface of the desk that she stood behind, and glanced upward in supplication. Once she was sure that she could speak with only a minimal amount of growling, JoNs again spoke into thin air, allowing the communicator system wired throughout the ship to pick up her purred voice through the communicator badge she wore on her uniformed chest area. “I see. Well, Yeoman, this may come as a shock, but we have not yet perfected an action gun that can control the temporal overlaps in this sector. In the meantime, all I can suggest is that you learn how to duck. And we are Caitian’s, not a common housecat. Remember that and use the correct designation name. Commander JoNs out.” At that moment, another disruption wave from the gods forsaken Ion storms that were the banes of their existence sent an energy wave rippling outward to whack at the right aft side of the Excalibur, again sending the big warship lurching upward. JoNs had already been walking away from the desk, and feline balance or no, she temporarily lost her bearings when the wave hit. The slight tilt to the deck flung her toward the desk and the right side of her face smacked into the top surface, splitting her lip on a lower fang. The Caitian commander ended up flat on her rump (and there was another bruise, but let’s not go there). Bleeding and sore, the brown furred feline began a scathing verbal discourse on the state of the universe in general and what it could go do with itself. The purred voice of Helm Officer Khal interrupted the tirade, filtering in over the bridge to ready room wireless connection. “Commander JoNs, please report to the bridge.” She swiped a paw at her communicator badge. “Bridge. I’m on my damn way. JoNs out.” The feline picked herself up, and wiped the blood from her mouth with a paw as she limped out of the confines of the ready room and onto the bridge, as ready as she would ever be to handle the next small crisis that engulfed the Excalibur.

04.17.08 USS Yellowjacket NCC-1609 “A Call to Arms” Station keeping at the Mars Orbital Ship Yards, Sector 001 “How is she doing?” Commander Adam Thrace, Executive Officer of the USS Yellowjacket, sat across from his captain in the small sitting area of the bridge ready room. The human lounged on the couch, gripping a Padd in his hand as he idly tapped the device against his knee. “She knew we’d be recalled away from the search patrol for the Agincourt and posted again to the home quadrant eventually. But, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t attempt to understand how she feels about the whole situation. She’s upset. She wants her godchild back.” Captain Zarathon Sh’Fasz reclined on one of two overstuffed chairs, across from where Thrace sat on the two seater couch. The blue skinned Andorian commander nursed a half empty glass of Altair water. “She’ll come out of it. I’m just happy I got her to take a few hours off to get some sleep.” Adam smiled to himself. The human had always known when he had been in the process of lobbying to bring MVess on board the Yellowjacket as the second officer and security chief that the Caitian and Zar Sh’Fasz would work well together. Eventually. Sh’Fasz had easy going manner, and his approach to the command of his crew was very laid back as well. M’Vess JoNs on the other hand, was very strict when it came to her outward bearing and her handling of her crews. And the female Caitian had been even more straight and narrow since that Excalibur mess that she had barely managed to get out of with her fur intact. But, those first few weeks with the two of them working together had been downright dicey and still occasionally haunted Thrace in his nightmares. The executive officer snorted into the silence. “How do you think she’ll respond to this little meeting of ours?” “Ambush, how she’ll respond to this ambush, I believe is what you really mean. She’ll hiss and flare and then settle down.” “I put ten credits on the flare up. No hissing.” “You’re on Adam.” The admittance chime to the ready room sounded, and the captain called out a “Come!” Lieutenant Commander MVess “Left Ear” JoNs entered a second later, her rich brown fur glistening in the overhead lighting and sporting her trademark crumpled ear. She wore the gold of security, and wore the uniform with a quiet dignity. She always had. “Gentlemen. How goes it?” The feline easily crossed over the area to take her accustomed seat on the couch next to Adam, so the two exec officers could both face their captain as they discussed ships business. What she had no inkling of was that the agenda for this meeting featured the Caitian rather predominantly. The Andorian ships captain set his glass of water down on the low coffee table next two a small blue velvet box. He tossed the box abruptly at Left Ear, who took the development in stride and easily caught the incoming object. Thrace then slid the Padd he had been holding down the table toward Left Ear. The human winked at her. “There is the first promotion for your review.” Left Ear took the small box in one paw while delicately flipping open the lid with her other paw. The three gold pips neatly contained within indicated a promotion to commander. The feline’s intense gaze went from Thrace to Sh’Fasz and then she placed the box back down on the surface of the table. The feline flipped an ear back as a paw now swiped the Padd from off the top of the table. The digital orders contained on the device outlined the promotion for one JoNs, MVess, to the rank of commander, effective immediately. “No.” Thrace just sighed. That was ol’ Lefty. Blunt, to the point, and a hard case to the bone. “Left Ear, we’ve always been straight with one another, even back when we were kids at the academy. I’m resigning my commission. I have an offer to teach, and I’m going to take it. I’d really like it if you were to step up as commander as well as take over as the exec …” Thrace trailed off, opting not to make any further remarks and deferring again to Zar on the matter. The captain fixed JoNs with a look set somewhere between disapproval and understanding. “MVess. That away team mission was well over five years ago … “ “Five Excalibur crewmen and women were killed.” “And you couldn’t have done any more then you did. Away team missions don’t always go according to plan. We don’t live in a perfect universe. Look, Commander, you paid your dues, as the humans say. You received a demotion in grade to lieutenant commander, a permanent note in your record, and a suggestion from the Fleet brass that you step down as executive officer and transfer off the Excalibur. I admit, when Adam first learned that you were a free agent and brought the possibility to my attention of you billeting here on the Yellowjacket, I was a skeptic. I had seen all the news feeds that had circulated about the Eden Four incident.” The blue skinned Andorian paused to take a breath and exchanged a quick look with Thrace; MVess, meanwhile, had begun to pace the length of the room. “Then, I looked past all that. I looked at your file. I looked at you MVess.” Thrace gently picked up the conversation at that point. “Maybe you need to stop dwelling on the past and take a look again at the future again Left Ear.” An indeterminate amount of time passed as the Caitian digested the whole situation. Finally, she turned to the two men and spoke in a deadpan tone. “You two work very well together as diplomats. Thank you both.” Both Zarathon and Thrace feigned mock outrage at the diplomat crack – to which Left Ear merely smirked at, the playful smile somehow managing to look evil on her panther like features – and then the three officers settled down and began to plan out the details of the feline’s new promotion and position. ********** “ … well, I think that’s about all we have for this meeting…” Suddenly, the double doors to the bridge ready room slid open as they retracted into the bulkhead, overridden by an outside source. Lieutenant junior grade Biko Matubi came storming in. All three of the senior officers bolted upright to a standing position at the interruption. Even with a soon to be former second officer who tended to be strict at the best of times, the general atmosphere on the Yellowjacket was very relaxed. However, it was common knowledge that to disrupt a command level debriefing in the captains ready room was a sure way to pull KP duty. It was blatantly obvious that the African operations officer was agitated however. “Sirs! There is a general broadcast on the ship to ship wireless to anyone in the vicinity! It’s the Agincourt! They are warning the sector about a hostile Fleet! In the system sirs – Pluto, the warning signal is originating from Pluto orbit…they made it back to this sector on their own somehow … ” Captain Sh’Fasz needed no further explanation, his dark blue eyes flashing ominously. “Red alert, let’s boot it all up and mobilize. We have a sister ship who needs our help.” <TBC>

04.13.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “Out of Time” Four Caitians expertly moved through the darkened access way, making no sound as they went. The felines were the evolutionary embodiment of a predator, and they were very good at what they did. The lower portion of their faces and muzzles where covered with black neckerchiefs, and they all wore nondescript civilian clothing of slacks or trousers and leather jackets of a clean design and cut that could be purchased on any moon base or space station. Left Ear JoNs, her twin brother Ravirr, and elder brother MRirr all stalked confidently out onto the decking of the main cargo bay, keeping to the shadows provided by the crates and barrels stacked in the area, their dark brown to light brown fur making them almost invisible against the shadows. The fourth member of the party was sixteen year old Mrrett, a young female cousin to the three siblings who was being schooled in the ways of the mercenary by her elders. And while the lion-like feline's coat was of a bright gold color, she too blended seamlessly into the shadows. Left Ear began scanning the area with a civilian made recorder device, looking for the necessary supplies that they had come for. MRirr stood guard, and Ravirr and Mrrett started snooping around the paper work that had been stacked on a nearby work desk, looking for any codes and such that they might be able to use or sell in the future. The young leonine Caitian turned to her older cousin - who resembled a brown panther like his sister - and spoke in a hushed whisper. “Uh, Ravirr, I thought we were hitting a ship called the Fallen Angel … a ship employed in the rebel fleet, right?” Ravirr nodded in affirmation to his shorter cousin. “Aye, that was the target ship little one.” “…then how come this manifest listing thing shows the name of the ship as the USS Excalibur?” His tail lashed once as he too gazed at the listing of cargo and supplies, and then he whistled to get his sister’s attention. The panther like female and leader of the raiding party came bounding over at once, her hind claws clicking on the hard decking. “What’s the matter?” Ravirr pointed a claw at a few of the receipts lying across the slate gray desk. “The kitten spotted something. According to these cargo reports? This ain’t the Fallen Angel. Oh sure, this is an Akira class starship, but it’s not our target ship. This ship is actually the United Star Ship Excalibur. The Intel packet we were sent must’ve gotten botched.” It took the female leader exactly three point two seconds to make a decision. “We’re outta here. This ain’t worth it, takin’ out a ship of unknown registry. Seems we need to have a little talk with our contact eh? Besides, we have that incoming Ion storm that we need to contend with as well. Better to be safe then sorry. C’mon, let’s round up MRirr and get back to the Dark Fang …” “….I don’t think so, Commander JoNs.” Left Ear and Ravirr both whirled around to stare at the human male, dressed in the orange jump suit of a cargo handler, who had quietly crept up from another service corridor access way. Mrrett let loose with a soft purring growl and dropped to her four paws, leaning against one of Ravirr's legs in a show of young uncertainty. In contrast, the older felines both stood proud and tall, despite the seeming discovery by the crewmember. “I thought it was you from the back Commander. Word has it you are supposed to be on the bridge … there are strange goings on around here lately. Now please, step away Mrrprh!” MRirr, who had the lion genetics like his young cousin but had a brown fur tone like his brother and sister, had used the shadows to his advantage in order to sneak up behind the human and grab at him. Within a second, Left Ear bolted forward, smacking the phaser the man had been holding out of his hand with a strong paw. She followed up the disarming attack with a precise – and hard – knee straight up and into the tender flesh of his groin. The hapless Excalibur crewmember fell down hard on the decking, puked, and then started to scream as he cradled himself. One moment, the Caitians had been there. Yet, when the man’s fellow cargo jockeys finally came running to see what the fuss was all about, there was no trace of the felines. Anywhere in the vicinity of the cargo bay. At all.

Some shore leave! We have a whole lot of mistaken encounters, people running around not acting like "themselves", and a stranger who asks Diplomat Jeralla for assistance. Was there something in the air on that planet? Oh, and lets not forget that Ion storm bearing down on the ship. ::loves this stuff::

Okay, so I gather having Lefty leap upon Mreh mid-shift on the bridge wouldn't be the way to go then? Might cause some problems and such? :-D

Oh dear. Laughing my @$$ off! This part truly set me off. Love the log Vic - great combination of humor and viable security practices.

04.06.08 USS Excalibur NCC-2004 C “Flight Recruit Volunteer” Things were going smoothly, for a change. The Excalibur was swiftly warping toward the Class M planet now given Citrus as a designation name. Apparently, the name was bestowed on the planet due to some sort of pet in sciences. It sounded like such a cute name, so the pet was obviously going to be a cute and fuzzy animal of some such. Regardless, JoNs would need to pay a visit down to the science offices in order to investigate and make sure the pet wasn’t a breach of regulations. Anything that was dangerous, toxic, or pets that went above the established weight and size limit for a fleet vessel were subject to expulsion in any manner that the executive officer saw fit. Shore leave on Citrus would be a welcome distraction for the crew, as tempers and testosterone and hormones and egos (and the feline exec included herself in this mess, as her normally dormant temper had collided with her rigid and rule bound personality - a dangerous combination - during one point in all the chaos) were flying at warp nine and closing. The down time would enable the crew to let off steam and re-focus on the mission op to find and locate the Founders. The crew would also have the option of either enjoying some shore leave time on the planetary surface, or paying their respects during the small funeral ceremony that had been planned for the downed Epsilon Squad fighters. It was entirely up to each individual how they would spend their time, and an official memo had already been distributed to the department heads regarding the shore leave rotations and the scheduled time of the funeral. Left Ear had drawn up an outline of the ceremony, and had kept it simple. A few words of respect said over the bodies, a flyby led by Lieutenant Ramson as was appropriate since she was the CAG, and then the bodies would be jettisoned via the torpedo tubes out into space, which was the modern Starfleet version of am ancient burial at sea. Once the draft outline for the ceremony had been complete, the feline had sent the text mail off to Captain Corizon for review and had cc’d Ramson out of respect for the flight commander. The commander leaned back in her chair and ran a paw lightly over the pilot’s communicator wings that she had retrieved from a drawer and placed on the surface of her desk. The design hadn’t changed much over the years, and only if you looked closely enough could you notice the wings that protruded out from the fleet symbol; the pilot badge closely resembled a communicator version of the Marine colonel and lieutenant colonel rank pips actually. Yeah. She really wanted to do this. Her sense of duty kept nagging at her, and it was time to listen to her inner voice. The action she was about to take felt right and proper. Brown paws deftly flew over the keyboard inset into the desktop, and soon JoNs had a memo typed up and all set to go. An uncharacteristic smile - showcasing sharp fangs – lightened the normally dour panther-like Caitians features as she finally came to a decision about what she would do. ========== To: Lieutenant (junior grade) Kallah Ramson, Commander Air Group From: Commander MVess JoNs, Executive Officer CC: Captain Ah-Windu Corizon, Commanding Officer Re: Epsilon Squad Lieutenant Ramson: I should have said this to you when you first mentioned your intention of culling replacement fighter pilots from those qualified among the crew of the Excalibur. I let my hesitation cloud my judgment. With the loss of an entire fighter squad, it is time for me to step up and do my part. I am offering my piloting services to you. My skills have been maintained over these last few years, and all of my necessary licenses and clearances are up to date. My call sign of Left Ear, in addition, has not been retired. I am able bodied and prepared, and will tow the line in whatever position you need me to fill – first response pilot, alert five pilot, or Radar Intercept Officer. Now, before you go checking on my personal record to see if I am a viable candidate, let me tell you in my own words what my record will not. From 2373 to 2375, I was a junior midshipman pilot, fresh out of basic. I was stationed on the USS Repulse, and participated in a variety of Dominion War based missions and skirmishes: troop transport, supply runs, short and long range scouting missions, recon hops, personnel transport. Whatever the brass needed doing, my old squad did it and we did it well. We did it all. To this day, I am not one hundred percent sure what happened. I’ve been to doctors, and psychologists, and really haven’t gotten a viable diagnosis. But, I’m getting ahead of my story. Myself and the squad were on a troop transport mission. It was a couple months after the close of the war, so spirits were high, and the Repulse was assigned to sector clean up – collecting marine troops from various duty stations enacted during the war and ferrying them to a post war debriefing location. I was piloting a troop hopper, as was a squad mate of mine, and the remaining four members of my squad were doing escort duty. The whole operation was such a milk run it wasn’t even funny, and we were all bantering back and forth and making jokes. Suddenly, all hell broke loose. An aft converter blew on the secondary troop hopper piloted by my buddy and the wreckage flew out and busted up my canopy. Then, he temporarily lost control of his bird during the shockwave and slammed it into my vehicle. We were all still in the lower atmo of the planet, so there was really no danger of decompression, and the minor fender bender didn’t further damage the two of us to the point of losing any altitude. However, the event triggered something within myself, and I panicked. I couldn’t continue controlling the shuttle, and my breathing became erratic. One of the marines on board the shuttle managed to contact my squad lead, and she and another one of our escort pilots talked me down and took up wingman flanking positions on either side of my transport hopper, getting myself and the shuttle safely back on the ground. I didn’t muster out of the pilot division right away after this incident. For about two more years I served as a jumper jock, mainly doing courier runs, personnel transports, and long and short range recon hops. There was no combat duty for me during this time, and it was probably for the best actually. Today, looking back on that nasty afternoon (hindsight is a wonderful thing), I know for a fact that I was burned out and it culminated in that panic attack. I didn’t sense anything wrong, and didn’t read the signs that my body was giving me over the months. The War took a lot out of those that served, as do all wars, some more so then others. And not everyone reacts in the same way. I think a couple of the older marines that I was transporting knew what happened actually, because I remember the look they had in their eyes. It wasn’t pity … it was a shared understanding. My temporary piloting re-assignment to the Mika Four colony outpost during the Excalibur decommissioning was my first official piloting assignment since 2377. While the assignment was most definitely not my idea – rather the sneaky planning of an old colleague of mine - I must say, it felt damn good to get back in the saddle. I believe this is the saying that the humans use? Again, I offer my flight jockey services to you Lieutenant, if you will have me. If you accept this offer, I expect to be treated like any other probie recruit, and will respect your authority as squadron lead. And I promise not to scare the squadron ensigns. Too badly that is. Perhaps just a little. Sincerely, MVess “Left Ear” JoNs ========== With a flick of the paw, the commander entered the necessary coding in order to send the memo off to the intended recipients.