Mreh K'hal

Mr. Noodles (shown above sending a message to his best friend Nibbles the rabbit) was the first small mammal diagnosed with "texting paw."

((OOC Note: This log is a result of the appointment between Mreh and Demitri that would've taken place before last sim)) "Write it down and look over the result," Mreh said to himself in his quarters. "Sure, that's easy. Excuse me while the sarcasm drips onto the desk," he muttered. Settling in, he activated the desktop console on the desk, sighed, and began dictating it. Dear M'Vess, I should have told you how much I really care for you before you left but I didn't. It was too hard to think about it, to say it, and then to know you'd be off to Bob knows where. It felt like it would be better to hide it, to keep it inside. It wasn't, and I had to see the shrink as a result. We could have had something, I think, you and I. I certainly know from the first time I saw you padding through the corridors as a security officer there was chemistry. I'm a doctor, so I do know what that means literally as a result of neural action, chemical processes and the like. I'm not some rutting tom either so it means very little in the overall scheme. The rest of it, the comfort I felt around you, the desire to know you, the easy words and even the hard ones, meant so much more. You became the XO, and everything was squashed. You're too much a Rules & Regulations person to fraternize with a subordinate, so it got put aside. I don't blame you for it, because it's who you are. The chemistry was still there, definitely on my end. I think from yours as well. There was an emotional connection there too, and it was friendship and the camaraderie that comes with serving together aboard a starship. I'll never forget that, nor regret it. But still I wished it could be more but could never say it. When you were injured by the Boganary I was so damn worried, and scared. The thought that I could lose you had never entered my mind before, but it did then, and it floored me. It was only knowing how skilled our medical staff was that kept me from being a puddle of useless fur during that time. You survived though, and again the thought that I must tell you how I felt and what I wished for before anything else could happen entered my mind, but again I did not say anything. I could not risk your recovery, nor did I wish to endanger our friendship. Time continued to go by and things did not change. Until you stood in shock from receiving your orders and you told me you must go. It was only shock that kept me from yowling and causing a scene then, that and knowing doing so would only injure you more. Then nearly a week passed before I finally went to see you, when I was momentarily blinded by the desire to throw myself at your feet, something that my pride and your sensibilities would never forgive. So I eventually saw you, gave you the trinket and said only a little of what was on my mind because I could not bear the thought of laying my heart at your feet when the necessity of the moment meant you could only step over it and walk away. Then the farewell party would've been bad enough, but to be the one tagged to organize it nearly killed me. And seeing you there, hearing your speech, it was only the fact that alcoholic beverages taste awful to me that kept me from falling into the trap of wounded souls. So I watched you go. I hoped that after you were gone I could put it aside as I always had, yet I could not bear to work. The empty chair where you sat and the ground which you paced on the bridge called at me, shouting that you should be there, but of course you could not be. I started leaving the bridge to work elsewhere, anywhere where I would not think to see you so that I was not constantly reminded of your absence. Finally enough light shone through my hazed mind that I had gone too far, and that my duties were being affected by you not being here. I made an appointment with Mr. Mashchenko. We talked, he told me to write this out to help understand and accept my loss, for grief is what it is. For losing what could have been, for losing what had been. I miss you M'Vess. But part of being in Starfleet is going where the wind blows, and it blew you away. I can't continue to dwell on that, or to dwell on you, on an us that might have been. Whatever happens in our futures I hope we see each other again, I hope that one day we can continue where we left off at the very least. I still hope for more. But until that time comes I must put you away, safe and sound in the stasis chamber of my memories, and let them be a warmth to my soul instead of a weight dragging it down into the abyss. Goodbye for now, Lefty. Finishing the letter, drained and miserable, Mreh slumped over to his bed, curled up, and slipped into a heavy sleep.

Dear Aunt Mrenga, It's been a while since I've written, I know. You can cuff me good the next time you see me. Things have been hectic on the Excalibur for the last few missions, and I've been pretty down lately. M'Vess JoNs, our former XO, was summarily reassigned elsewhere and I took it pretty hard. Guess I'm more of a romantic than I figured. Anyway, how are you and H'Rasha doing? She'll be graduating from HS'Mehran II this year, right? She still planning on going into medicine? Anyway, when we get back to Camelot I'll send along her graduation present early, just in case things get hectic again. Sorry to say I was goaded into writing you because I have a request. I was given an odd assignment by my Captain, and I'm ashamed to say I couldn't answer him in the slightest. He wants to know if we have anything like "saints" in Caitian culture. I probably missed Mom or Dad telling me about that when I was off at the beach. Look forward to hearing from you, not just because I need the answer, either. Give yourself and H'Rasha a hug from me. Love, Mreh

Mreh, I've been saving a cuff up just for you, don't worry. I've been fine, work at Dorakh has been dull as usual, but we're hopefully near another breakthrough so it makes it worth it. Yes, H'Rasha will be graduating, and she's going around with her fur poofed out half the time, stressing over her classwork. She's pushing herself too hard, but nothing I say seems to sink in on the matter. Thanks to you and your mother she got into the Academy qualifying exams quickly, and so long as she keeps her average up through the end of the year she's accepted in for pre-med. I'll miss her terribly when she goes, but that's the point of being a mother, I suppose. Though she's talking about trying to get back into the Exo-Medicine School back here when she's done but that will be years. I can see why your parents decided to stick around San Francisco, keeping you kittens close to home. As to your requests, I had to look up the definition of a "saint" first. Those humans are funny creatures, aren't they? We don't have something exactly equivalent, but I think the Riah-Koh might be what your Captain is looking for from a modern standpoint. Here's a copy from the encyclopedia article: The Riah-Koh1 are very special individuals in the annals of Caitian history. They have been appointed by a special vote amongst the Clan leaders for special services rendered to the Caitian people. Gorahl Thushir was the very first Riah-Koh, appointed in Cait Year 199 B.S.T.2 His efforts in stamping out the pandemic outbreak of Felisformius Urbanus earned him great respect and the various Clan leaders chose to honor him in a special way. Ruhvi Shorash, the Caitian inventor of subspace technology and the first Cait to fly at FTL speeds was also granted the title of Riah-Koh. The appointment to this title is a very rare feat and has been done on average once every 45 years since the first in 199 B.S.T. The benefits of being granted this title, besides the everlasting fame and appreciation of the entire Caitian populace, include the creation of a marble statue to be displayed in the Hall of Justice in the capital; a commissioned life-sized portrait to be displayed in the Caitian Musuem of History, also in the captial, an extra award of credits (2½ times the salary of the President General, adjusted for inflation); and a specially commissioned award. Is that what you were looking for? You can look up the article to get more information if you need it. I'll let you go now, but you'd better be sure to write back more often, I know that subspace communications array works out there now so you can't use that as an excuse anymore. Don't' forget to write your parents, either. The last thing I want is to have your mother start her incessant subspace complaints to me again. Take care of yourself. Love, Aunt Mrenga P.S. H'Rasha sends her love as well 1Translates to Exalted One in Federation Standard 2Before Subspace Technology

Cargo Conundrum Lieutenant Mreh K'hal featuring Captain Corizon The Excalibur and its crew didn't screw up their first leg. No one died (including all the livestock), the ship didn't get damaged, and none of the cargo had been broken. The spotted Caitian wasn't sure if that was a record, but it was an encouraging sign. Their next leg would hopefully be as innocuous and error-free, but it seemed too much to hope for. Most of the supplies were standard, but one had already caused a bit of a stir. Knowing full well the uses of GHB, as a doctor, he'd put them under higher security down in the cargo bay the first moment he'd spotted it. He'd also flagged the manifest and supply order so that he knew who all was looking at it. The fact that the last entry listed was Corizon changing the manifest to hide the GHB made him chuckle. Technically an illegal action, Mreh thought. He supposed, lacking a proper XO on board, he would have to bring it up. Not to argue it, but just to have it put on the table for posterity's sake. Deciding to get it over with, he tapped his comm-badge. "K'hal to Captain Corizon." Corizon glanced sidelong to the speaker built into the desk, as if willing it to explode. When it didn't, he sighed and hit the button. "Yes?" "Captain, I couldn't help but notice a bit of a change to the manifest. Erm, you do realize hiding cargo qualifies as smuggling under Federation Maritime law?" Mreh asked, his tone of voice mostly curious. The ears of the Dameon twitched. "I am aware of Federation Maritime law. I am also well aware of the mischief certain junior and enlisted officers can occasionally get into." "Yes, I assumed your intentions in this instance were quite pure, but I wanted to make sure you understood the," he paused, considering the best phrasing. "...total ramifications of the action. I've already placed the cargo in question under higher security and flagged the manifest so I know who's looking. If you'd prefer to be more on the up and up you can re-instate the proper cargo and I can encrypt the manifest until after we've delivered it." Mreh offered. "Actually, get rid of the guard and leave it how I changed it on the manifest. The more attention you draw to it, the more likely someone will be to actually look into it. Also, if someone at Starfleet has nothing better to do than check manifests, I will personally hand them my letter of resignation." "Ah... as you wish, Captain," he paused, his ears twitching in both amusement and consternation. "That's all I needed then, sir. Ah... I know you're a little overloaded without a proper XO available, is there anything I can do for you?" Leaning back, Corizon considered for a moment. "Do Caitians have anything like saints?" "Erm..." Mreh was taken aback by this question. "We have some mythical and legendary figures, sir. We're not the most... spiritual society." "Ahh, well look into that. If they do, I'd like to write a letter recommending Commander JoNs for the position." Mreh blinked rapidly a few times, completely lost for words a moment. "Certainly, Captain," he finally managed. "Very well, I'll be in my quarters if you need anything else, or if anyone decides they want to snort some GHB... " "I certainly hope not, Captain. For the GHB, I mean. Ah... K'hal out." Mreh clicked off the comm and sat there a moment. "Good grief," he eventually muttered to himself. After he'd collected his wits, he called down to have the security removed from the cargo bay, though he did keep the encrypted locks on the pallets. If someone did get grabby there was no point in making it an easy high. Then, considering the Captain's request at the end of the conversation, he wrote out a letter and sent it to his Aunt Mrenga back on Cait about information on Caitian saint equivalency. "We really need an XO," he said to the empty room. "Before the Captain breaks into the GHB himself."

(( OOC Note: Sent at the end of the last day of our seven day TBS )) To: Counselor <Counselor@"USS Excalibur NCC-2004-C"> From: Lt Mreh K'hal <"Mreh K'hal"@"USS Excalibur NCC-2004-C"> Subject: Appointment Request Priority: High Mr. Mashchenko, I find myself having a harder time dealing with the transfer of Cdr JoNs than I expected. Often I find myself thinking of her, especially while I am on the bridge. To have the XO station empty, to not have her voice purring out from behind me is causing a great deal of... Well, I really don't like it at all. The fact that I am often delegating the helm control to a subordinate rather than be on the bridge myself means it is getting in the way of my duties. As such, I feel it necessary to request your services. An appointment at the earliest available opportunity is necessary in case I must be relieved of my duties until such time as I am able to carry them out properly. Respectfully, Lt Mreh K'hal Starfleet ID: 864-ZC-JKO-5412

Don't despair, Precip... because you've won again! :) Will Marx is the runner up.

It's about t... I mean, Yay! :) Hope personnel has a big inbox!

Hmm, getting close to mid-September and still no official announcement about taking applications. While I don't see Dory, it seems we are swimming in a school with some delay fish nonetheless. :: heats oil, gets out the Old Bay :: Fish and chips, anyone?

It's been a week since our winner and runner up were announced and we don't have a new picture up from either, so... Shall we try a new one?

Mreh, still a bit emotional about the personal farewell meeting with Lefty, now had to plan a friggin' farewell party. Hers, as a matter of fact. One that is supposed to take place in two hours. If Mreh was at a desk, he'd probably hit his head on it. As it was, he made his way toward the Holy Grail to set it up. He'd never gone into the place, so he was not sure what to expect. He was half afraid it was going to be some hokey interpretation of the Arthur story, and as such had to promise himself that if he saw a so-called "portrait" of Merlin on any walls not to claw it. He supposed he'd have to seek out the Mr. Kroells and get the assistance of the former Excalibur man, who when it came to the current Excalibur was a bit more legendary than Arthur. Not knowing exactly what to expect there either, as gossip could be a fickle friend, he entered through the doors of the Holy Grail. Fortunetly for Mreh, the "Arthurian" theme to the grail was phased out after Travis had bought the bar from his old friend and business partner, the Ferengi Mog. The Grail had been redesigned as more modern entertainment establishment, though the holo emitters Kroells had installed well... everywhere allowed him to conviently reconfigure things as necessity dictated. He found the settings rather dull actually, but thanks to the shore leave stricken crew of Excalibur using up all his holosuites, he was forced to leave the Grail conservative looking, lest station operations harp on him again for going over his power allocation. Noticing Mreh enter produced a small smile on the human's face. He'd made it a habit of knowing everyone that served on the Akira Class, and that the Cait had never yet given him business sent his mind searching for a reason why he might wish for Kroells' services now. Being born of a species of predatory past, Caitians could be rather intimidating at times. However, thanks to their similarly evolved yet domesticated cousins on Earth, Mreh knew he could use the right look and tone to put many humans at ease. Stopping a server, he put on his cuddly kitty face and purred out "Where can I find Mr. Kroells?" Apparently not fearing that his intentions were to go claw the boss, he was pointed in the right direction and made his way over. "Mr. Kroells?" he asked, tamping down on the look a bit (it seldom worked as well on males, though there are always exceptions) but still appearing to be friendly even if his mood was in the gutter. "Yes Mr. K'hal, what can I do for you?" His tone was coridial and polite, but also had a professional tone too it. Being a former officer often gave him a starting commonality with his customers, but in his civilian role he'd learned to read people fairly well, it often lead to higher profits. A forced smile was a forced smile whatever your species... or smile for that fact, and Mreh's showed rather clearly. Kroells could tell his mind was focused elsewhere, but on what he couldn't speculate. A smile grew on his as his curiosity grew over where this was headed. "The Excalibur needs the services of your establishment," Mreh said, grateful that Kroells wasn't a bouncy sort. "A gathering for as many of the Excalibur crew that wish to attend and can fit." His ears flattened a bit. "A farewell party, to be exact." "A transfer, or retirement party, I hope." He nodded and leaned against the bar, taking a quick look around the floor. "Well, The Holy Grail can hold about 200 people... 300 if you don't like them much. You'll find whatever you had in mind pretty straight-forward, as I employ a good amount of holographics in the decorum. As for price, that's entirely up to your imagination." "Transfer," Mreh responded rather gruffly. His tail uncurled from his leg and started to swish about behind him in agitation. "As for the decor, this will probably do," he said, looking around. M'Vess wouldn't want anything frilly. "And definitely no 'congratulations' banners or the like, either." Hard to congratulate someone who's ticked about leaving, Mreh thought. "Food, drinks, standard Federation fare," he added. "Maybe a few Caitian specialties, if you can manage. I'm sure that M'V... Commander JoNs would appreciate that much at least." Travis nodded thoughtfully. "I'll keep it conservative. As for the food I believe we can produce a good variety, I'll see what the kitchen can whip up. I know Commander JoNs has been on board for a while, must of been something good to pull her away. I'll see to it that she gets a fitting farewell." He sighed, and poured himself a drink. "Care for something?" "Something, all right," Mreh muttered. He looked around, but did not notice any chrono easily visible (which was probably wise, Mreh figured, not to advertise to the patrons how much time and money they've spent). Instead, he pulled out his own and looked. "The main problem is that we have," he paused, did the math. "One hour and forty-eight minutes until the party needs to start. So I'll pass on the drink, but thank you." By this point in the conversation, Mreh wasn't bothering to keep up the happy kitty face, and he looked ruffled, upset, and much more like the predatory version of the feline species. Travis was about to take a drink, but paused and quickly put his drink down. "An hour and forty-eight minutes? You Excalibur folk do fly by the seat of your pants. I can have your party ready by then, but sudden notice of having to force all my patrons out raises the price a bit. Though for you it's more then likely a requisition form, and I always enjoy giving your Captain a bill." He maintained a neutral tone. By now he'd deduced that ordering this little party was part of obviously agitated Caitian's frustration. Better to speed things along and save Mreh's patience and Travis' profit/life. "To be perfectly honest, Mr. Kroells," Mreh began. "I'm sure even Captain Corizon will be more than happy to fob a large bill off on Starfleet after they yank the XO off our ship. So when it comes to food and drink, by all means don't spare the good stuff. As for the deadline cost, yes, that's certainly understandable. So long as I don't see any deliberate skinning on the price quote you'll get the signature." He forced his tail back around his legs before it could whip around and offend any drunkards. He didn't have time for a bar fight today, even if he was in the mood. "So the brass pulled her?" He shook his head. "Typical. Haven't seen too many people come out here that want to go back, odd as it is. You'll get your party Mr. K'hal, and I'll be sure to let Starfleet know how much her shipmates appreciate her in my billing." "That's all I can ask," Mreh said, the smile that curved up on his lips not a happy one, but more like the Caitian that caught the Canarian. "Oh... one more thing," he added, thinking of M'Vess. "When you whip up party favors or a cake or whatever." His paw made the galactic symbol for yadda yadda. "Make sure there's something prominent with the Excal's fighter squadron. If she can't keep 'em, she might as well eat 'em." "I'll see what I can do," Travis replied with a chuckle. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go tell my customers to drink at someone else's bar, something neither them nor I enjoy."

Oh, is that what that was? I was thinking you were giving him his birthday wallops instead. Don't forget the one to grow on! :wacko: Happy Birthday Sumo!

Mreh had been looking forward to things returning to the status quo, as quo as it could ever get on the Excalibur anyway, but now that was no longer an option. M'Vess was leaving, and Mreh wasn't quite sure who to claw for it. He hadn't seen her since she quietly gave him the news on the bridge, and he was starting to worry she'd be gone before he had a chance to see her again. Using his contacts and abilities, he'd made sure four times a day she was still around at least, though he hadn't pushed to see her. Things hadn't quite worked out the way he'd hoped. What chemistry they seemed to have had been altered when she'd become the XO. Starfleet had the unfortunate tendency to poo-poo intimate relations between command staff and their crew (though it still happened, of course). Unfortunately for Mreh, JoNs was usually a stickler for the rules and so whatever chance there was dwindled to nearly nothing. Even a close friendship was stalled by it, though he would thank any applicable deity that they'd remained friendly and that she trusted him. Now she'd be off to Bob knows where, doing Bob knows what while he was stuck driving the Excalibur. The fun of that had worn off, which was why he'd been only too glad to leave the flying duties to Betty during their time on the Union. At least during the long, now unspeakable mission searching for the Founders he'd taken over quite a bit of the operations duties that needed tending to. That had helped stave off boredom during the many long jaunts the ship had made. Now however, with Ensign Waters assigned to the position and doing the job well, that pleasure would be denied him and he would be forced to to stare at the autopilot settings for hours on end. Add having to adjust to yet another XO, Mreh already dreaded the next mission, whatever it would turn out to be. With Corizon in command, they seemed to run into trouble more than a boisterous kitten on a poultry farm. Though, he had to admit, Corizon didn't seem to look for trouble, it just had a tendency to find and follow him. He'd come to appreciate and respect the Dameon far more than he ever expected to, but Mreh thought that had far more to do with the counter-force thand JoNs had been. He could only pray that the new one had a sense of humor, or the atmosphere on the bridge would be dreadful. Though again, he had to admit that Corizon did seem to have a sense of humor. Occasionally. With only one day left on their moving leave, Mreh decided that he couldn't put off looking M'Vess up any longer. He'd find her, give her the going-away present he'd bought on Avalon, and at least say a proper good-bye even if she didn't want to talk.

"Okay you got the first one down, next you put your left foot out, thusly... no further, like me"

Inspired by his youthful hijinks (shown above) William Howard went on to invent the first anti-gravity device on Earth.

That's a compressed air thing, the one I'm talking about uses ultra-sound. Took a while for me to find it online (originally saw it on one of the cable news networks a while ago), but it's by Dr. Robert Langer, called SonoPrep. Right now I don't think it's capable of high quantities of medicine but I'm sure they're working on it.

There's your winner! Have at 'em, Calestorm! A9 gets runner up.

I've also heard they're working on an ultrasonic device to deliver medicines without the need for needles... aka the hypospray. THAT'S one I'd like to see, I hate shots. :wacko:

Okay, let's try this one on for size...

I think we're wondering more about the day and time the sim will be running at. At least I know I am. :P

"Look Dave, I can see you're really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over."

Right, you can use the html img or the forum img tags in a signature. If you have already attached an image somewhere, say you have a relevant image (that's small enough to fit A9's specifications, of course) in your character's bio that you've attached, you can get that image link either by copying it from directly from that or through the Manage Your Attachments section in My Controls then use that link with one of the img tags in the signature to keep the image "in house" so to speak. Though that brings up an interesting question, one for A9: would you rather us use an image host (Photobucket, TinyPic, etc) for when we have a relevant image that we need to display (avatars, sig images, caption contest, etc) or would you rather we attach here? My own thought is that these image hosts are designed for exactly this purpose and that it would use less of STSF's server (both space and resources) to directly link an image from the external host.

Forget bad luck, if this crosses in front of you it's time to make sure your affairs are in order.

Ack, where have I been? I didn't even notice this thread. Interesting thoughts so far, and a very neat design, Jorahl. Playing with starship design is fun, and I've done a little as well. It's still very much work in progress, something I'm cooking up for one of my characters for the next phase of the career, a private ship for contractor work. Working ship name is the Thunderbird, sort of a "if I was going to build a bird of prey this is how I'd do it" kind of thought. Have done the work in SketchUp since that's the most complicated I can get with 3D programs at the moment, lol. The general idea was to go for a horizontal warp core (there's an ejection port in the "beak" that's not detailed enough to really see yet). Need to add more detail and refine the shape to the nacelles and I'll probably completely re-do the nacelles struts to something more streamlined. Out of appreciation for naval history have gone with the round portholes, and rather than have the control center on the top as usual that top dome is actually the lounge/observation/recreation and the CC is on the deck below, facing forward (the two largest windows). Still working on a lot of other details, and slowly at that. If I ever get it done it will probably look considerably different from what I have here, but when I do work on it I find it both extremely challenging yet fun to tinker with, so I'm taking my time on it since it's not something that has a deadline, and seeing as I can slap duct tape over my character/client any time I want I don't have to listen about design delays. :P

How time flies when you're having fun, right? Happy Birthday STSF! Still have three years to go before the big 10, you guys have started planning the big reunion ceremony and parade, right? I expect fireworks and cake. :P