Mreh K'hal

Simultaneous traffic noise and seasonal allergy symptoms are not at all conducive to productive thinking, especially at 1:30 AM.

:) I saw that picture and had that thought myself, but was too chicken to post it.

OOC: Lisanna's log describing her efforts is here in the Lower Decks B&L section. *** Sitting at the auxiliary console keeping an eye and ear on the away team's progress, he was informed by a beep from his console of an incoming report. Looking, he saw it was from Ms. Stuart down in the transporter room and tagged as important. Knowing, through getting a number of standard duty reports from her that she wouldn't tag it unless it deserved it, he opened up the report and read through it. "Clever girl," his voice purred. She had put as much detail in it as a body could want, complete with cross-references to the library material and sensor data she'd used to formulate her ideas. Knowing quite a bit more about the anatomy of skin than the transporter operator, he saw a few spots in it that needed refined, but all in all he thought it fit quite nicely, and the sensor data provided the evidence to turn it from an opinion into a viable scientific theory. It would need more data to turn it into a solid one, but with this they could probably work something worthwhile out of it. He sent back an acknowledgment down to the transporter room with an "atta girl" tacked on and then began to work on it a little himself to add to the picture she'd started. In a few minutes, he'd be ready to bring it to everyone's attention.

Things could very likely get squirrelly from here on out, Mreh thought, or as he usually thought to himself, the acronym AHBL (All Hell Breaking Loose) time. They'd found the Scorpiad ship, which was almost disappointing, because if they couldn't find it they could have went back to base without incident. Now, they were playing with fire and risking getting third degree burns. Mreh was no coward, but like any cat he'd rather curl up in a sunny spot for a nap than get in a snarling fight over territory and belongings. He still refused to believe that this Scorpiad ship lying around was a stroke of good fortune for Starfleet. It stunk of a trap to him, which would've been worrying enough had they performed this mission on the Excalibur. Being on the Excelsior Class Union was something else entirely. Nonetheless they were working on sending a small team over to check the thing out. It's like everyone has forgotten how much trouble a Scorpiad shuttle caused when the Excalibur was still the B, and now we want to mess with a full size ship. On top of it all everyone the Captain was sending over wasn't an expendable asset, perhaps save the security guy Griffin. For all Mreh knew, the minute the ship had life signs beamed aboard it would vanish into subspace the way Scorpiad ships do and take the team straight to the Scorpiad homeworld to be tortured. With the rumors of civil war between the Scorpiad and their underlings, it would certainly be a clever way to try to snare them. He didn't know if the octopods would do something like that, but he wouldn't put it past anyone. So, whenever Ensign Waters returned to the bridge and took back the standard operations/communications console he would move over to an auxiliary console and monitor the away team very closely once they beam over. Supposedly the Excalibur crew had been selected for this mission because of their expertise and experience with the Scorpiad; he could only hope Starfleet Command was smarter than they usually proved to be.

I just finished a plate of leaves, so by the time you're done out there I'll have a new spot for you to clean inside, m'kay?

Happy birthday Kitty #1! Don't let them drag you from the cake.

State of the Union by Mreh K'hal The first active week on the Union had progressed nicely. Mostly everyone had settled in pretty well on the starship, which was one of the advantages to the Excelsior class, Mreh figured. It was often used in holographic simulations at the Academy, and though the systems on board any one Excelsior Class starship may not be state of the art anymore, it was comfortably Starfleet and therefore not a problem to pick up and run with. The Union was also pleasantly "broken in" so while it lacked that new starship smell it made up for it in putting you at ease. What was not sitting as well with the furry officer, and others he'd spoken to and heard from, was the accommodations. While the Union was actually a little longer than the Excalibur it didn't have as much usable interior space, because what the Akira Class loses in length it makes up for in volume. Often the space on the Union was taken up by the equipment that kept her running. Of course nothing could compare to the amount of space and luxury on a Galaxy class, the Cruise Ship of Starfleet, but for the transplanted Excalibur crew it was rather like having a Bellezza Falco 14 luxury skimmer and having to take a used Yridian shuttle for a rental during repairs. An overstatement, perhaps, as the Union didn't stink and was an efficient ship, but a downgrade in accommodations nonetheless. Fewer available holodecks and holosuites meant less time allotted when you finally got in to one. Many of the junior officers grumbled a bit because they were sharing with an extra person, or perhaps two, than what they'd had before. The enlisted were packed in quite tight too, though they were more used to it than the officers, who were often spoiled. The crew common areas were smaller and fewer as well, though being a diplomatically capable vessel meant it wasn't completely stark. Better than the time he'd spent on Defiants and Steamrunners during his roving medical days before the Excalibur. As it was, there likely would have been far less grumbling all in all had they hard-working crew of the Excalibur been given a full leave after their loss and pain during the long journey into the unknown rather than being pressed right into duty. Since the nature of their mission was classified and few knew much of anything, the sting hurt a little more as the "you're the best and we needed you" position from on high didn't satisfy either pride or duty fatigue as much as it could. Mreh tried to make up for it with more positive feedback to those under him in the chain of command than he'd generally give, and other small strokes to keep morale up. LtJG Elizabeth (aka Betty, and never call her Liz unless you want to lose a limb) Halloway was not one of the complainers, however. Having had her first assignment on an Excelsior, she was as happy as the proverbial clam getting to take the primary helm slot during their tour on the Union. Her enthusiasm did cost her, though: for the first time in their working relationship Mreh had to scold her, in this case for going past the limit on cumulative seat time. Regardless of that, it was the best thing, Mreh knew. Besides not wanting to "cheat" on the Excalibur by flying the Union, Mreh had placed her as primary for another reason. While she'd never say it out loud if she knew it, and Mreh would likely not either unless it were to JoNs or Corizon in private, but she was the far better pilot of the Excelsior Class. Another benefit was her expanded enthusiasm helped to keep morale up, as she lit up any room she entered and seemed to pass on contentment through osmosis. For his own duty, Mreh really had no complaints either. Working operations and communications on the older Excelsior Class ship was more demanding than the same duties on the more automated Excalibur. There he'd often tasked those along with his flying duties, and more often than not there was no need for anyone at the operations console. Here, managing the various operations tasks took more concentration and thought, and his paws were seldom idle when he sat there. Also getting to spend more time moving around the ship checking in with the other operations/administrative personnel in various locations was a pleasant change. While Commander JoNs did a lot of that (nothing ever managed to slip past her panther's nose in the Command Division) he'd made an oath to himself to help pick up some of the slack for her so she didn't end up burned out like other officers of her high zeal style have done in the past. In doing so he'd even heard one of the crewmen in the main cargo bay comment, as he was exiting from a quick check-in, that the "cat's on the prowl today." Mreh could only agree, with a good deal of amusement, that the change in routine seemed to suit him, though he knew it was only temporary. When they finally returned to the Excalibur he'd be chained to the helm console again, but flying was its own reward and more than made up for the sedentary position. When he'd transferred out of medical he'd never dreamed that he'd actually enjoy some of the more administrative aspects of working operations, but to his pleasant surprise he had, and was working his tail off to move from being merely capable of the work to being exceptional at it. The return to Excalibur would still be a while, though, so for now the spotted Caitian would dig into the work with all claws bared. They'd be approaching the Scorpiad vessel soon, and even if the scenario was not a trap it still wouldn't be a walk in the park. Dealing with Scorpiad repeatedly had trashed the Sovereign Class Excalibur, so potentially going up against them in an aging Excelsior was something to avoid, or if it was necessary the best hands for the job should be on deck. Though that could cause problems, potentially. Mreh considered Victria to be their best bet at tactical, but considering the history of spats between she and Laarell, he considered it might be better to have Garrison man the guns. Not that during a crisis the women would let their personal animosity get in the way of duty, it would be when there's not a crisis that he worried about the atmosphere. Both Caitians on the bridge could not fail to sense the tension, and undoubtedly Corizon would as well. Mreh felt even worse for the telepathic CAG, who must have a whale of job to block that out. He also wondered if that is why that Tia had left the Excalibur. Well, all of that was outside of his control, Mreh knew. With any luck they'd be able to snag the Scorpiad vessel and mosey on home without incidents, interstellar or intraship. Unfortunately, the Caitian conceded to his own optimism, they'd had little luck at all in avoiding problems with Corizon in command. He wouldn't complain about that though, since they'd seemed to have quite a bit of luck in getting out of those problems without total annihilation. Wrapping his tail around his leg, Mreh put the thoughts behind him as he finished his lunch break and settled back into his seat after his contemplative lunch break.

Crusades: The Next Generation

(( Takes place a few days before where we'll pick up on Sunday, June 7, 2009 )) The command team doesn't do it, of course. It has to be on the top of their minds anyway, so why would they need to ask? Everyone else however can't seem to resist. It comes out in more professionally termed phrases, of course. "What's the ETA to Camelot? No navigation hazards forced us to detour, right? We haven't had to drop a warp factor because of the nacelles, have we?" Being the CFCO people would ask him these questions when they spotted him off duty, and he was quite used to it after all this time, but no matter how one put the question to him it was still "Are we there yet?" He couldn't blame them for it, even as annoying as it was. They should look at it from his perspective, though. When you're sitting in the driver's seat and see the distance counter ticking down so slowly with such an amazingly high number of light years to go it makes it seem that much slower. "A watched pot never boils," indeed. The months wore agonizingly by this way. Not nearly as bad as what Voyager went through, Mreh conceded, but no fun nonetheless. Making matters worse was the condition of the ship. The engineers had done a fine job at keeping Excalibur space-worthy and efficient, though almost anywhere you went there were tell-tale signs of the monstrous damage the ship had taken during their long, long mission. The bridge would never be the same with the duranium band-aid over the hole in the roof, and the Caitian helmscat was sincerely grateful that Starfleet loved swapping them out on a regular basis to include minor upgrades to systems and to add or remove the occasional console. Some of the material they had picked up from the Satarimi, while high-quality, obviously didn't look quite right, with their airy design scheme rather clashing with the usual Starfleet drab. What was worst about the whole affair were the missing faces. The Excalibur had lost far too many this round between the exsanguinated fighter squadron, eaten marines, and the battle casualties. Mreh was sure the first comm packet that Corizon had him send out once they finally came into communications range of Avalon and Camelot included the dreaded condolence letters. Even for Corizon that must have been hard, Mreh thought. Especially considering their mission parameters. Almost any way you dealt with them, the Dominion were fatal. They would likely lose a few faces out of those who had survived, too. While the green Zier baby had been the most talked about, there had been other births during the long voyage, a consequence of starship life that Starfleet never mentioned publicly but was unavoidable. The Excalibur wasn't a family friendly vessel, and not just because of Corizon, Mreh knew. Some personnel would have to transfer out so they could raise their young, and Mreh wished them well. He had heard talk from others as well, mainly some of those who'd come aboard as green enlisted crew and even an ensign or two, who'd found out that they couldn't hack the danger quotient aboard a starship. They'd scamper off, either resigning or requesting a transfer to a planetary posting. He also wished them well, for even if they couldn't cut it on the Excalibur they could still do good work for Starfleet and the Federation. All that would of course mean that once the Excalibur was fit to go boldly once again there would be new faces on board. Mreh looked forward to that, as last time the operations were handled by the dual SciOps department and he'd been too green to get his paws in the work. He looked forward to working with JoNs on something that wasn't a dire, life or death situation. Not to mention being able to recruit some more eyes and ears (or other applicable sensory organs) to keep him posted on the goings on in different departments. Regardless of how good his own ears are, it's hard to gather juicy gossip or get quick news when they're stuck on the bridge. With only a few days left before the arrival Camelot, Mreh's thoughts finally turned to what would happen during the repair/refit. He was sure there would be leave scheduled, and while he wouldn't mind taking a week or two to surf somewhere he couldn't quite imagine how he'd spend the rest if it dragged on longer than that. Though before he could even head for the beach he'd have to go through the renewal process for a few of his certifications and licenses. Thinking on it, if the leave was long enough he'd have to check the Command Certification Course schedule to see if he could fit it in. While Mreh really had no great desire to go the command route, it would probably take a little of the strain off Corizon and JoNs to have yet another trained option should the circumstances require it. Not to mention be another feather in his cap for his mother to preen over, thereby pushing the inevitable "Where are my grandkittens?" talk a bit further back. As he looked over that distance counter ticking down yet one more time, he'd have to keep his near-term options open, as it was too early for any concrete plans. It was just nice to be near enough to base to think of any plans at all.

:: looks over self, eyes bug out :: All right, who put bleach in my shampoo?!

Happy Birthday Sam!

Okay, anyone that sims with me on my different sims knows I have a lot of NPCs, some with their own logins. Now that Firefox and java are getting along on my computer again, I can have two (or more) different chat instances open now so that each one can be up in the room without me having to resort to the "NPCName>" in my main character's window. However, there's no easy way to tell the difference between each window, and character confusion can result, whether you float the window or leave it embedded on the page. So, I've whipped up a little html so that I can have the chatroom up, 100% size in my browser window, with my character name in the tab's titlebar. I just saved these individual html files on a folder on my computer and then bookmarked them in the browser for easy access, so now I can see my character name in the tab bar of my browser. Because I'm a geek I even copied my avatars to the folder and used them for favicons, lol. If anyone wants to do this themselves, here's the code: <html> <head> <title>CHARACTER NAME</title> <link rel="shortcut icon" href="PICTUREFILENAME"/> </head> <body> <applet codebase="http://client1.invisionchat.com/current/" code="Client.class" archive="scclient_en.zip" width="100%" height="100%" MAYSCRIPT> <param name="room" value="55904"> <param name="cabbase" value="scclient_en.cab"> </applet> </body> </html> If you want the favicon to show up, just save it in the same folder as the html files for your characters. Make sure what you put in the href field for the shortcut icon has the full filename, including the extension. I know Firefox can handle most image formats for a favicon, so it doesn't have to be an ico if you use Firefox. I'm not sure about other browsers. If you find you need an ico there are free image programs that can do it as well as online services that can do it for free too. Anyway, hope this helps anyone with sim multiple personalities, I know it does me.

Good to hear! Though now that everything is hunky dory I hear Corizon scribbling notes about another possible plot idea.

Well, if I had to choose between a president who has a philosophy from Spock or the last one who seemed to get it from Elmer Fudd, I'll definitely take the former.

Come down to Wally's Amusement Park, where we'll get you to Nirvana in one easy step!

I actually had to look up Caprica to see what it was exactly, since I've never gotten into the BSG universe. Once I was properly informed however, Precip's caption made a whole lot more sense, ;) . Winner: STSF Precip Runner Up: STSF Kansas

Considering I'm being insulted by the stereotype in that video I probably shouldn't have laughed so much, lol.

Okely dokely, neighbors.

Well, that's not right. CBS is buying Canadian TV shows [Love Flashpoint!] to air left and right, the least they can do is make ours available in return.

Hmm... that's a Thursday night. I guess the Romulans will be put on hold in favor of the Federation. Always knew we were better. :D

To cut costs, the Mordeville Assassin's School and Head Start will be merging.

In order to avoid any April Fool's Day confusion, I'll let Kansas win by default now since no else has posted.

lol Kitties taking the prize for the kitty. I guess it's time to change species here. Have at it!

Animal testing on new organic "bio-armor" discovered at Starfleet R&D. Project leaders insist there have been no injuries and they are conforming to Federation law. Pet psychologists warn of impending psychological disorders.

As a note, all addonchat servers are effected right now. Whenever in doubt whether it's on their end, this network status page will show. There was nothing in the announcements section, either, so I assume this must be an emergency fix or they're really just rude. 10ish Eastern update: admittedly that network status page isn't the most timely, as it still shows the servers down while we're back in, but it's still useful to see if they're the cause of mayhem.