Mreh K'hal

Helm's Thoughts You know, I wonder what's out there in the rest of the universe. I see those mobile uniformed creatures come and go at regular intervals through Door. Door says all she leads to is Lift, and it apparently only sees other variations of Door. There's supposedly some large, magical place called Engineering, where there are many flashing lights and some tall wonder called Marah. It apparently pulses with mystical energy, and it blesses Door and Lift. I don't know why I haven't been blessed by Marah. Perhaps I haven't provided enough comfort for the many who are called Helm. Perhaps... I cannot stand the furry one. His tail tickles my back something fierce, and I often wish he would not place himself atop me. He often spreads apart his arms and leans back into me very hard, and it is quite unnerving. Also, those sharp claws scare me, and I keep hoping that he will no longer come to the land of Bridge. I know that is my purpose, and Marah must be punishing me for my lack of dedication. Door asked Lift for me where the furry one goes when he leaves Bridge, and apparently he goes to the quiet land of Deck 3, or to Lounge. I have not heard much about Lounge, except that the creatures that go there seldom come back to Bridge for many hours afterward. It must be a very enjoyable place. I wish I could visit Lounge to see what is so great about it. Or go to Engineering to pray before Marah. But I am stuck here on Bridge. I cannot even roll across the floor like the SciChair twins. Oh, they love to lord that over me. Though only when CenterSeat is sleeping. CenterSeat is not very talkative, but it holds a very important position up there on the Perch. I wonder if it too would like to travel, and is afraid of the clawed ones who must sit there. It's leather is so supple, surely it must cringe when the one they call Puppy sits there and taps its digits. Or when Kitty sits up there and grips the arms or when the Green One and Baldie begin to squabble over something called neutrinos. Oh no, here' comes Furry again. Can't he do something about that tail? Wait, these are bad, bad thoughts. I must provide comfort and lumbar support for those called Helm. It is my duty, it is my calling. If Marah gets too angry, it may send its power to Console and cause an arc to burn me. All right, Furry Buns, settle in, I am here for you.

Oh no, don't squish me Jorge! Ulk

:D Great log! :: makes a note to shed around Louis ::

Is your spouse less than honorable? Instead of curling up with that piece of &!@$ every night, curl up with Ichi, the Cuddly Poo!

The tour bus driver, having heard a passenger complain about the lack of a view, decided to become alarmingly accommodating.

Whaddya mean they offered free delivery? Why didn't you tell me that BEFORE?

Reflections Mreh K'hal OOC Note: These go back from before Mreh came aboard the Excalibur to just before last night's (2008-01-13) sim. And the stardates are probably way off, but I just used them to indicate the passage of time. Medical Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84126.4 I'm once again on the runabout Clara Barton, heading back to Camelot. After heading out to the front lines again, I worked to mop up some of the mess on the ground at Fu'In. We sustained some heavy casualties once again, and those that were capable of being moved to get treatment of the base facility are tucked in the back with me. This was a bad one... For every life I saved there were probably five that didn't make it. This "conflict" is draining away our personnel resources pretty quickly, not to mention morale. Usually the security types are eager to get in the action, but now even they are hesitant; something will have to be done soon before we either run out of people and ships to fight or they don't give a damn anymore. Myself, I don't know how much more of this I can take. I've been roving for months now, heading to wherever the need was greatest and ferrying the wounded to facilities with better equipment and personnel. I've been lucky insofar as that I haven't run into any enemies during my transits... If our top of the line starships aren't able to withstand Scorpiad attacks, this little runabout doesn't have a chance. I'm ready to "settle down," as much as this conflict will allow, anyway. I've already requested a permanent assignment. I'm half hoping that it will be on Camelot or the Avalon Base, but I'm sure there's a need for doctors on the starships, so that's probably where I'll end up. Gods, I'm so tired. Medical Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84127.2 After arriving at Camelot with my injured, and transferring them to the medical facilities there, I was informed that I have received a new assignment, and a permanent one. I'm going to the Excalibur. Good facilities there, at least, though that class doesn't quite have the amenities of more flexible ships. I imagine we'll be spending a lot of time fighting. Well, I'll be kept busy, anyway. Medical Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84131.8 Things are as bad as I expected here, and I've spent a good deal of time patching up crewman after engagements. No doubt it will get worse. The personalities in this sickbay don't help at all, either. At least from my point of view. The CMO is rather... informal and quirky, to say the least. I cant fault his medical skills, though. Dr. Kassem is quite capable as well, though she seems distracted by the Counselor. It bothers me, though deep down I know I can't get twitchy because others have found love during a time of war. It just seems inappropriate to me, to be elbow deep in blood in between romantic encounters. Gods, I'm so sick of being elbow deep in blood with no end in sight. I know that's the biggest part of my problem right now, and I should talk to Zier about it, that's why they put those mind-massagers on these ships, after all. Well, for now I'll try to work it out on my own. Medical Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84132.7 Well, I've managed to blow my lid at everyone in sickbay this time, and have also managed a good deal of havoc in my own quarters. I'll have to replicate some new sheets before I go to bed; after I recycle the shredded remains of the old ones, anyway. Not that I'll actually be able to sleep in it, though. I don't know why I haven't seen it before, but I've tried to stay so focused on my work that I didn't notice that I actually hate it now. Wouldn't mother just give me that look of hers, too. Spend my whole life working to become a doctor, and now I can't stand to do it anymore. I don't want to see any more mangled bodies, no more trying to reassure people that yes, eventually, they'll be able to serve again, even if it takes months to recondition themselves and become accustomed to the new parts and pieces that have been installed. I really should talk to Zier now, but after yelling at his girlfriend... probably not a good idea. Damn. Medical Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84133.4 I've requesed the helm position, since it's open. I don't know if I'll get it... but hey, why not? I have to get out of sickbay. I just can't do this anymore. I don't know how long it will take to hear something... the little hope it gives me to think there might be a way out without having to have Pilot prescribe anti-depressants and lock me in a padded room for safety. If I don't get it though... I don't even want to finish the thought. Flight Control Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84135.9 That didn't last long, did it? I've barely been on the Excalibur as helmsman for a three weeks before being reassigned to the Haviland. Apparently they've lost all of their helmsmen in engagements. Well, it may work out well, though. The atmosphere on Excalibur is pretty rough right now, and they'll likely be right in the thick of it. I'd just assume not hear the words "ramming speed." At least on the Haviland we'll be back line. Goodbye Sovvie, hello Nova. Flight Control Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84152.6 It's nice here on the Haviland. It took me a while to really settle in, but I've made a few friends, and I don't have any past history haunting me here. The Captain has allowed me to continue wearing the blue, even though I'm FCO only here. More than enough of the science and medical types here, so I don't have to worry about double duty. The ship's certainly not the fastest, but it maneuvers well, and so far we haven't been thrown into the fray too much. I'm not sure what the future will bring, or if we'll ever see the Alpha Quadrant again, but I'm happier than I've been since joining the Academy. That's a blessing I couldn't have counted on during these dark times. Though I can't help but wonder how the Excalibur group are holding up. Flight Control Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84188.5 After some very good time put on the Haviland, I'm suddenly being transferred back to the Excalibur. Apparently they've returned from the abyss without a navigator. Though, from what I've been told, we're heading to McKinley. Go figure. Send me over just to park the ship. I imagine we'll be given leave during the refit. It'll be nice to see family again. Flight Control Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84190.3 So much for leave... The Excalibur is going to be torn apart and sold for parts, not that I'm really surprised. I couldn't believe how bad it looked after I returned. They really pounded the old girl while I was gone. Can't say I'm sorry that I missed it. Haha. We're supposed to get new assignments. I wonder where I'll end up? Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84209.5 Here I am, flying ambulance shuttles! Woo! ... Wow, I'm surprised the computer didn't malfunction with that much sarcasm hitting it. Though I'm happy I'm posted so close to home, I'm still trying to figure out a way to get back at mother for interfering. I can't count on dad to help me... he has to live with her, and wouldn't take the risk. Haha. Well, tomorrow is another day, perhaps I'll get an idea. Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84213.8 Boy, that Dr. Thomas was sure... interesting. It heartens me though, somehow, to know that if you can survive the hate that everyone throws at the Federation, you can keep on warping through to do what you can. Mren's sent me a message, as well. Apparently she didn't have any trouble getting the Guinness and it's on it's way to UP. I hope Dr. Thomas is thirsty. Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84228.1 I've said goodbye to everyone. I'm heading off to Antares Shipyard now, for some odd reason. While it's certainly not unheard of for Starfleet to give people orders without any clear indication of what's coming, it's the first time I've personally had it happen. Must be something important though, otherwise there wouldn't be a need for it. Rhan had brought Kara to the farewell party. I could see that mother wasn't all that happy about it, but she kept her thoughts to herself. For once. Surprisingly, she didn't even offer one word of complaint when Rhan finally asked Kara to marry him. I suppose she really does want us to be happy, even if she's not. Though, unless something happens, she's going to be looking at me harder than ever to provide her grandkittens. Hmm... I wonder if JoNs will be at Antares? Flight Control Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 84241.6 I've just reviewed some of my old personal logs of the last year... Wow, have I been up and down, side to side, and even front to back. What a difference it makes doing something you enjoy versus something you don't. Of course now that I'm piloting and Akira and have a... friendly acquaintanceship with Lefty, things are better than ever. We just had a nice talk in the lounge, as a matter of fact. Everything seems to be going well. With her new position as XO, it's going to be somewhat... difficult for us to become romantically involved. Yes, I still want that. Regulations and her straight-arrow personality are going to hamper it. But, I'm not going to push. I like what we do have, and the fact that she's willing to drop the Command persona for a while with me makes me happy, and should hopefully keep her happy. She had to head back to the bridge, unfortunately. I could've kept talking to her easily. Oh well, it gives me a chance to get this log in before I have to return to duty myself. Hopefully we won't get shot at when go to this planet.

At the moment, my screensaver is rather basic: a blank screen. I would love to have a main viewscreen warp field effect. Anyone with Windows will no doubt know of the "Starfield" screensaver that's bundled with it. Of course as all of us Trek fans have seen, simple white dots flying toward you isn't quite "It" when it comes to the warp effect. I've done some basic searching for an improved version, but have so far come up empty for the PC. Has anyone found a good replacement for the basic Starfield, or any other good Trek screensavers?

Driver: That's the second one I've seen so far! Hmm... maybe we should go house hunting in a different town, hun...

The mayor thought to try putting the cool back in school... while it works in print, reality does not agree.

You still have to have some sort of "pop," even though a cover letter must be something professional. A cover letter really is a story: who you are and how you'd be a protagonist for the employer and not the antagonist. It's a difficult piece of work to accomplish, but try looking at some novels/short stories that you really like that caught your attention from the first few paragraphs. Study what it was about them that grabbed you to get some idea of how to proceed. If you can tailor that approach to suit your personal life and the job offer, and keep it professional, you'll have the HR dept doing cartwheels to see the resume.

I said "Take Off" not "Land!"

NOTE: This fisrt part of this log takes place the night of the announcement of the new Excalibur C before the joint log with Cdr JoNs. The last part is the day after that meeting. Two Moods, Two Days Lt JG Mreh K'hal As Mreh watched the now Commander JoNs retreat, he silently cursed Starfleet Personnel. Another opportunity with her lost due to an interruption. It seemed that it would take an act of Q to keep them together for more than five minutes, and he wasn't going to hold his breath for that. He'd just have to be stubborn and patient, if he could keep from blowing his lid. Stalking out of the observation lounge, he headed to the pod where he had docked the runabout that he flew in to get to the shipyard. Since he had yet to sign it back in, not knowing that he'd be receiving a new assignment on a new Excalibur, the small craft was still his to use. He arrived, his mood boiling, and summarily programmed the runabout's transporter and therefore bypassed the lengthy line to get over to his new home. After transporting into the secondary transporter room, startling an Antares engineer in the process, he continued his ill-tempered walk, heading to the turbolift. Mreh studied the PADD, scrolling down for his room assignment. He'd have a room to himself, which was a major bonus, and it was on deck three as well, so he wouldn't have far to go to work. Or to relax, as he remembered that the main lounge was on deck 5. He arrived at his room, keyed in through the computer, and then stood just inside the door, taking in the room. It certainly wasn't a state room, but it would be comfortable, he thought. A small sitting area and workspace inside the doors, with a bedroom and bath through a doorway to the left. The combination certainly beat bunkbeds and a communal shower. The sitting area had one window in the angled exterior wall, and Mreh could see a Sphinx workpod buzzing around outside. The view would be considerably better later, he imagined, though he doubted he'd have much time to appreciate it. Settling into one of the chairs, a snazzy little Carlyle style recliner in some sort of burgundy synth-leather, Mreh huffed out a breath. Here he was, sitting alone in his quarters when he should be talking with Left Ear. The first time, that Trill security chief pulled her away; the next, battle; then he was off to another ship; then his reassignment to the Excalibur was so short he hardly had time to blink; after that, they had only as long as it took for the announcement that the ship was decommissioned, and the Trill was trotting her off to work again before they all left for parts unknown. A reunion again, and finally a potential conversation, when wham! A curveball from the Personnel Office has her retreating to her quarters in shock. Just remembering it all had Mreh's ears flattened against his head and a growl rumbling in his throat. He wasn't a believer in fate, though at this point he was ready to assume something was conspiring against him, and if the ubiquitous Fate presented itself as a target, he'd take a swipe. The scrunching sound of leather caught his attention just in time to retract his claws. It wouldn't do to puncture the furniture before the first day, or even hour of his residence had passed. Rising, he paced instead. Tonight's opportunity was probably shot. He could go look her up, but she'd no doubt be handling the acceptance of her new orders and contacting family. Popping in with a fifth wouldn't help any, he decided. Though it stretched his patience to the limit to wait one more time. Tomorrow he'd find her, he thought. Assuming tomorrow would ever come. *** Mreh was still in quite the happy mood as he purred his through a tour of the ship. Yesterday had been a very, very good day, so much so that he'd not even bothered checking out his station yet. Saving the bridge for last, he was coming up to it now. While he rode the turbolift from the Air Group hangers, he pondered over the fighters he had seen there. They were quite impressive, and though his primary concern was flying the mother ship, he could still have a fantasy or two of flying the fighters she carried. With a wistful sigh, he straightened as the turbolift slowed. After the doors swished open, Mreh took a step out onto the outer ring of the bridge and his ears perked up. It was a breathtaking sight, the new bridge. All of the gleaming metal, the complimentary colors, and the same lush synth-leather that he had seen in his quarters and the lounge were present as well. The wood railing was polished and gleaming in the bright light, flickering occasionally with a reflection of movement from the front holoscreen that was activated with the foreward view. A few more steps in and Mreh gave the Captain's Perch a look. "Corizon will feel right at home on that elevated throne," Mreh thought silently. Though he had to admit that it made more sense for the CO to have such a commanding view of the bridge instead of being nestled below the action as it was in other starship classes. Moving further inward, his attention wandered to what he was really looking for: the helm station. Down below everything else, the helm station was tucked well forward onto the bridge below the other levels; no one above him would have to get on tip-toe to see over him to the viewscreen. The console itself was large, a rather squashed and deformed U, with a mobile chair in the center. Stepping down to the station level, Mreh walked over to it and ran a furry paw over the edge. The main flight controls would be directly in front of the seat, with secondary controls and data on either side of that. The side spokes would have tertiary controls and customizable screens for whatever purpose suited at the time. Settling into the seat, Mreh tested the comfort of the chair as well as his reach to the various sections of the console. Being a little low, he adjusted the seat up a centimeter, and was satisfied. Swiveling slowly in his chair, he took stock of the view from his post. He caught the glimmer of the platinum dedication plaque near the ready room doors and smiled. While on duty, he wouldn't get to see much but his console and the front holoscreen, so he wanted to soak it in now. He wondered how well the 360° holoscreen would work. For the same reasons, he doubted he'd make much use of it personally. If he tried to use it to fly the ship, no doubt he'd crash into something. Like most pilots, he was an instrument flyer. Hopefully they'd run across some particularly beautiful and rare nebula soon and he'd have a chance to admire the view while they were safely parked as they studyied it. He turned back toward the front and sat back a minute, running a paw along the front edge and purring. "Soon," he said softly. "Soon."

The Kitties Finally Get to Talk Joint Log - Lt JG Mreh K'hal and Cdr M'Vess JoNs Left Ear JoNs, newly minted commander and executive officer, was currently standing by the main portal window in the lounge area of the Excalibur C. While she should have been admiring the view (albeit a view of Antares worker-bees going from this ship to that ship), she was not; her thoughts were decidedly going warp five and closing. After having spent most of the night prowling his quarters, the spotted Cait Mreh K'hal toyed with ideas of clawing the brand new furniture of his quarters to shreds. The thought of how to explain such behavior in garnering replacements, however, kept his claws sheathed. With less sleep than required, let alone preferred, the felinoid helmsman was in a bit of a state, and all of it over a female. He had gone many years without being terribly bothered by not being around other Caitians, but after meeting Left Ear, he had very much decided that he wanted some same-species companionship. At the very least. Now, she had been promoted, and it had thrown a wrench in the works. He'd just have to find a way to deal with the complication, and he'd start by making sure she knew he's still around. The brown furred female Caitian was in a state she did not normally get into - being unsure. The double promotion was a bit much to handle, even though she had always been open to the possibility of making up one half of a senior command staff. If she didn't think it would interfere with her duty cycle, then she would have gotten herself rip roaring drunk. At least then her thoughts would be quieted...along with her senses. Her nose was going ballistic with the new ship smells. While JoNs was trying to sort out the smells, Mreh had queried the computer to her location, and was now exiting a turbolift onto deck five. He certainly wasn't unaffected by olfactory explosion either, and wondered how long it would take the air filters to turn the air into its usual completely neutral self. The Caitian senses could certainly be a boon though, as his ears had picked out juicy tidbits in the past that had moved him into better positions both socially and professionally. As such, when he walked into the main lounge, it was his eyes that picked out his quarry before his nose had a chance to catch her. He took a deep breath to ensure that the frustration he felt wasn't too near the surface, let the fang-revealing grin spread that the sight of JoNs always caused, and then walked her way. Her nose already tuned to the smells wafting this and that way, she immediately picked up on Khal's smell. She turned, an equally fanged grin matching his own. "I'd say fancy meeting you here if I could get away with the delivery and not laugh." "Damn, I thought I washed that transparency juice off my fur earlier," Mreh replied, brushing the top of one paw with the pads of another. "Well, I see you have the three gold pips now, so I assume you didn't turn down the promotion. Congratulations, Commander." "Thank you Lieutenant. It is a bit of a shock - I always knew the possibility was there, but let's just say I was expecting it to happen later. How are you settling in? I envy you, getting to pilot this bad ass Akira class." "Well," Mreh said, his grin faded a bit at the "settling in" question. "The quarters will take some getting used too, but at least I don't have as far to go now to reach my station. I definitely can say I'm dying to get in the chair and see what this ship can do." He looked around, saw a nice table nearby that would be private and gestured to it. "Shall we sit? I'll stand you to a drink." Pushing aside her self-destructive desire for the bliss of drunkenness, JoNs purred. "Mister K'hal, sir, I will so take you up on that offer." The feline gracefully moved toward the table in question. "I'll take an Ale, with ice." Mreh followed, admiring the graceful tail and what it was attached too while purring merrily away himself. As an M.D., he knew the biological reasons behind physical attraction quite well, and he was certainly intelligent enough to know that fighting it would be the quickest way to the funny farm or the brig. So, he may have to bank the fires depending on whether she'd put the brakes on because of her new position, but he'd shave his tail before he'd put them out completely. After motioning the waiter over and ordering her an ale with ice plus an iced caramel latte with rum for himself, he grinned over at her. "Your fur isn't standing up today, so that's a good sign. As shocked as you looked last night, I contemplated dropping by with something even stronger than ale, but I figured you'd have to take care of the orders and contact your family to spread the good news. Better late than never," he said as the waiter dropped off the drinks. Lifting his, he raised it toward her. "Cheers!" "Cheers." She took a swig and then regarded Mreh. "Truth be told? I have not informed my family as of yet. I will shortly. I needed some time to myself to assimilate the new orders and such." The female Cait found herself admiring his spotted pattern. Spots could be rare among the feline species. Very, very nice. "I guess I made the right decision either way, though." He cocked his head, looking at her torn ear. "There's got to be an interesting story about that ear," he said earnestly, but waved it away with a paw at the same time. "Today's for the future, though, not the past. You'll have to tell me some other time." After a hearty gulp, he continued. "I can't say that I could possibly be happier with Fleet's choice of XO. You know the crew, and who better to deal with a cranky Dameon than a Caitian, right?" His gold eyes were almost fully dilated in the dim light of the lounge, and they glowed faintly with that feline reflection as he looked at her, the amusement flashing in them as much as the glimmer. "I dread the feline and canine jokes. And gods help anyone that tries a "cat and a dog walk into a bar" joke in front of me." The statement came out deadpan, but there was a certain threat simmering behind her green eyes. Just as quickly, her focus became amused again. "And as for the ear? Aye, there is a story behind it from when I was young and full of juice. But, you are right, it can wait. And, while we are on the general subject, I too am glad you were one of the chosen to return to service here." Her eyes switched again, to a gaze of desire held carefully in check; she again admired his spots, his predatory build...whoa whoa, reign in the hormones there girl. It wouldnt do to jump the helmsman less then twenty four hours into your new XO posting... "Well," he said while pondering those flickers of emotion in her eyes. "What other ship in the fleet that has a helmsmen that can perform emergency medical care right on the bridge when one of the consoles explodes?" He asked mischievously. "I'd think Captains would have been clamoring for me so they could avoid sickbay like they always do. Though with the new holographic matrix on the bridge, someone could order up five EMH's, ten nurses, and a pleasant mood screen at the same time." He shrugged, as much with his tail as his shoulders. The fluffy thing rose above the table for a few seconds before disappearing from view again. Then he laughed. "Though if we get intruders on the bridge, I think you're much more qualified for those. We certainly do have a..." He paused a moment in thought. "Versatile bridge crew, don't we?" Her purred chuckled was genuine and full of mirth. "Versatile? The Excalibur should be the inter-species poster child for the Academy recruiting drives." Her own tail lashed playfully, brushing against his."May I ask? Your tail is a bit unusual for a Cait, beautiful, but unusual....were you teased much Lieuten....Mreh?" "My brothers did if they were annoyed with me. My sister's the one that did it endlessly," he said, bringing it up back into view so that he could frown at it. "You have no idea how hard it is to fit it through the hole in my pants... Anyway, most Caits would just be curious. It was the humans that seemed most amused by it. I had a passenger tell me it resembled a Denobulan fox tail..." He shook his head. "He resembled a prune, but I was polite enough not to mention /that/." The memory brought the smile back to his face. "Well, between the spots and the tail, I stand out like a waterfall on Vulcan when I visit Cait." "...as a general rule, we are solid gold to black in solid color. Although, and of course this is not meant to be rude, have you ever considered that you may have Kzinti in your blood line? When they did battle with the Caits, we all know a certain amount of inter-breeding occurred - I myself have a stray blood line that we managed to trace to a great uncle on my fathers side of the family." "I wondered at that myself, but no," he said with a sad smile. "It'd be a great way to explain it. I've studied my DNA, and I'm pure Cait. I just have quite a few recessives and that damnable fluff, which I nor any other Caitian specialist has been able to figure out. I suppose I'm a mutant." He grinned at that. "I don't know if I'd want my kittens to have it or not." "They'd be adorable. I've always been a fan of recessive genes myself - they mix things up a bit - just don't ask me to chart 'em on my own family tree. I'll leave that to the science types." Her eyes again flashed, and she regarded her drinking companion with a slight smile. "Well, I'm not that unusual in my family, though. Both my parents are spotted. I have my father's coloring, thank goodness. If you added spots, this fluffy tail, /and/ my mother's snowy fur?" He chuckled as he shook his head. "I'd be in a zoo or a science lab. Though, growing up in San Francisco probably made it easier. You were born on Cait?" He waved the waiter back and ordered a water and looked to Left Ear for an answer and to see if she needed anything. The female indicated that she was good with her current drink, and answered K'hal's query. "Aye, I grew up on Cait. Most of my family has. Now my guardian child? Her parents work for the academy and the civilian Starfleet offices respectfully, so she is being raised on Earth." "What of your family?" "I thought you might be Cait born, you have the accent," he said. His own was more Cali Boy than Caitian, the sibilance not as pronounced. "My parents were both born there, but they've both been in Starfleet since joining the Academy They settled in San Francisco when my father became a professor." He pondered her a moment, his smile slightly lopsided when he didn't show his fangs. "I don't have as much of an extended family, just my siblings, parents, one aunt and one grandmother. I can't even imagine being a Guardian. What's that like?" "Well...it can depend on the family really. In my case? I function almost as a long distance third parent to her. Her parents are very....lenient. Not that that is a bad thing, mind you, but at times I just need to give her a solid cuff. Good kid though, full of life." A lopsided smirk matched MRehs own smile. "That's nice," he said. "I guess you do have some practice riding herd on subordinates, then." After looking at her a moment with almost a smirk, he squinted down at his paws. "You know, I'm almost positive I may have met your cousin and her parents, back when I was at the Academy. It was some Academy function, and I remember a few other Caits there." He looked back up and smiled. "Though for the life of me I can't remember their names. I think I met another JoNs at Starfleet Medical when I was a resident. M'Sarr, I think? All of the JoNs and K'hals running around San Fransisco and some how the two of us never met, though I'm certain we're not that far apart in age and could have shared time at the Academy." "M'Sarr? that would be my uncle - he works in the personnel offices. I swear, you turn around, there is a JoNs. So it would seem we have some common background?" Her smile happily showed some fangs. "Two Cait families keeping Starfleet up and running," ge said, grinning back. "I'm not entirely a history buff, but I do know a bit about Caitian history. I remember that a JoNs was the first one to serve on a Starfleet ship." His brow furrowed as he concentrated. "Shaow? One of your JoNs ancestors?" Her smile widened. ".....you've been doing some research? Aye that is correct, she was. You had mentioned your father, what about your mother?" "Ha," he said, automatically rubbing a paw on his head over her favorite spot to cuff. "She's the Assistant Chief of Security at Starfleet Medical. Which is how I ended up being posted there for the last four months as a shuttle pilot." He was amazed at how similar their families were in some respects: the dedication to family and Starfleet. The differences were there too. The K'hals were new on the scene, relatively, while the JoNs were legendary. "She's a holy terror. What about your parents? Are they in Starfleet?" "Security! A woman after my own heart. No, my parents are strictly civilian, but I do have four brothers serving." "Nice," he said, his tail flashing over the top of the table fora moment. "My oldest is on the Copernicus, my youngest is at the Academy. Only my sister decided to forego Starfleet. She's studying at Oxford, hoping to answer the question to the Universe." He ran a barely extended claw around the rim of his glass, half looking at it and at her. "The Sciences and Order, that's where we seem to fall." "What about you? Did you go into the Fleet due to your mother?" "No, not really," Mreh responded. "I wanted to be a doctor. It was a calling, and Starfleet is where the need was greatest, between the Dominon, Romulans, Borg, etc. etc. etc." He sighed. "But yet, you changed specialties. Then again, so did I, so its not all that unusual." "Yeah. When I was performing more mandatory autopsies than saving lives... I just couldn't do it anymore." He studied the tabletop, his demeanor now rather sad. "Thankfully I had another specialty to fall back on. If it wasn't being a pilot, I'm also a biologist. Going with science seemed too easy, so I decided to become a hotshot." Looking up, his expression wasn't sad anymore, but still serious. "Was that yours, originally? Piloting?" "It was, aye. I love piloting, but its career options can be limited in the long run. I maintain it as my second. Do you enjoy the piloting more so?" "It just seems too close to the medicine. If it were physics or geology, I probably would have chosen science." He began to slide his glass from side to side on the table top, the tips of his claws clinking against the glass. After sitting quietly a moment, he spoke again. "That's good, though, your secondary field, If it happens to be my console that explodes, you'd be right there to fly her." He looked over with a wry smile. "Though let's hope you don't have to. I hate singed fur." "You and me both, Mreh." Her laughter purred out in a short burst. "...you know, at the risk of sounding forward, would you care to go somewhere more...intimate?" Her manner was calm, but her eyes had gone playful. "I'd say I'd go anywhere with you, but I wouldn't want to sound like a teenager with his first crush," he responded in precisely the same manner. With that, JoNs stood from her seat and walked past Khal; as she did, her paw swept under his chin in an inviting manner. [Edit: Inserted "Security!..." para that was omitted]

Laarell walks away for five minutes and Citrus is getting in trouble again.

First cop on the scene: "All right, where was the fire? Oh... erm..."

Back Home to Work Part 2 A small shuttle gracefully banked and softly touched down atop the landing pad near the outpatient entrance to Starfleet Medical. As Mreh popped the rear hatch, awaiting whatever patient whose condition didn't warrant the transporter, he switched the exhaust from the rear vents to the dorsal before rising from his seat to wait just outside. Gracefully curling his fluffy tail around his right leg out of habit, he scanned the walkway and spotted a nurse walking with a soft-clothed humanoid. After a short moment the two arrived, and the nurse smiled at Mreh while keeping an arm lightly on the puffing passenger. "Lieutenant," the nurse said. "This is Dr. Thomas, and here's all of the data for you," he finished, holding out a PADD. Mreh took it, but looked to Thomas first. Besides being a bit out of breath, the man had the peaked appearance of someone who had pushed himself a bit too far in a marathon. Appearing to be in his early sixties, with a noticeable paunch erupting from a lime green jumper, and sweat beaded on his brow, Thomas looked more apt to be exiting the shuttle on his way into SFM and not the other way around. "Dr. Thomas," Mreh began. "Why don't we get you settled in so we can get you on your way." "Fine, fine," Thomas wheezed, and without further ado stepped up into the shuttle and headed toward the cockpit. "Have a nice flight," the nurse said softly and with barely disguised humor in his voice before turning on his heel and walking briskly back toward the building. Mreh entered the shuttle and whacked the button to close the hatch with a paw before heading up to the cockpit. Thomas was already settled comfortably in the co-pilot's seat. As he opened his mouth to speak, Mreh was cut short before uttering a single syllable. "Get me a Guinness, would you?" Thomas asked without even looking back, his attention on the console in front of him. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Dr. Thomas," Mreh said, working hard to keep from sounding too brusque. "This is a medi-shuttle, and the replicator isn't programmed for... those types of medicines." "Ah, should have known," Thomas replied grumpily. "Well, get this thing in the air and we can stop at Paddy's." "Hmm," Mreh said as he settled himself into his seat. Glancing down at the PADD, the Caitian ran a scarcely extended claw over the orders written out, hoping for some insight into the nature of the beast beside him. It showed only basic vitals, which showed the man was considerably older than he looked by a good fifty years; a note that Thomas had just had a second liver installed. and was to be returned to Utopia Planitia Shipyards. Based on the request for a Guinness, Mreh could guess as to why the man was going through livers even in this day and age of synthehol. "I'm sorry Doctor, I'm afraid the flight plan doesn't allow for any deviations, I'll have to take you straight back to UP." "Hmmph!" Thomas grumped, looking over at Mreh. "I see pointy ears, but you're too damned furry to be a Vulcan." "That's for certain," Mreh agreed amiably while he requested take-off clearance textually. "By the Book," the old man barked, the disdain dripping fom the words. "That's the problem with you Starfleet types nowadays, you're all so wrapped up in that big Book of yours that there's no fun anymore." "That very well could be, Doctor," Mreh said as he coaxed the shuttle into the air. "However, the ones in charge love that Book so much, they'd pound someone to death with it should they try reading from some other tome. I'd just assume keep my fur tidy." "There's something to be said for self-preservation, I suppose," Thomas said grudgingly. "Can't go for a swim if you never get your feet wet, though." "True," Mreh said as he maneuvered the shuttle into orbit. "Since I don't like getting my fur wet, though, I'm not terribly concerned about that last one." "Huh. Suppose that shouldn't be any surprise for a felinoid." "Don't," Mreh said, slanting a look over at Thomas, "get any ideas about calling me a scaredy-cat. I may not be a Vulcan, but I've always wanted to give that neck-pinch a try." Mreh smiled as Thomas laughed. "You know, there are a number of synthales that are comparable to Guinness..." "Synthale!" Thomas erupted. "Pah! The damned stuff tastes like processed urine!" "I don't want to know how you're qualified to make that comparison," Mreh said, "but you're letting your emotions and not your taste-buds do the talking there." "Hmph, never liked the stuff," Thomas said stubbornly. "When was the last time you tried it? When Kirk was still an admiral?" "Watch it youngster," Thomas growled, though the glint in his eye showed that he approved of the insult. "I was designing shuttles while your grandparents were still breastfeeding." "Oh," Mreh said with a fang-filled grin. "Maybe they filled out this flight plan wrong... should I be heading to the ancient history museum instead of Utopia Planitia?" He flashed his grin over at Thomas after the old man was done laughing. "I was right, you are too damned furry to be a Vulcan," Thomas said. "It's been a while since I've had a pilot that hasn't just cowed his head and agreed with every damn thing I said while he was hitting up the engines for more speed. Maybe you have some potential after all." "I tried that a little while ago," Mreh conceded. "I always had spoken my mind, but then thought I should try to fit in, not rock the boat. After a while, I was taking swipes at my fellow doctors and was a whisker away from clawing my CMO. That was the end of that experiment." "Fellow doctors?" Thomas asked. "Yeah," Mreh said, smiling sweetly over at Thomas. "Mreh K'hal M.D. at your service." "K'hal?" Thomas asked, swiping a hand over his chin. "Your mother wouldn't by chance be a vicious, tempermental security type back there?" "I see you've met," Mreh said, looking over at the old man and pondering. "What did she do, catch you smuggling in bottle of Guinness?" "Hell! I was barely five steps into the building before she snatched it from me, the devil woman!" Thomas complained. "Like it's any of her never mind if I need a little boost after a surgery." "Well," Mreh chuckled. "I'll have to take the blame for that. She had years of practice swiping smuggled candy off of me." "Oho, that's how she learned it. If she had decided to be a pickpocket instead of a constable your family'd own Ferengenar by now," Thomas said. "Let's see, K'hal, K'hal... I think I knew your great-grandfather as well, if he was an engineer." "He was." "Hot damn, imagine that. Damn fine machine man, was old..." Thomas drifted off a moment, thinking. "K'Lan! That was the old tiger-tooth's name, right?" Mreh nodded. "Met him working on the USS Unity, back when we still did refits at UP. I swear, every time I turned around he was in my way, making sure I wasn't going to sabotage his equipment. Tempermental sort too, he was. Took one of those big paws of his and slapped my hand away from the dilithium matrix once when he caught me tinkering with it." The old man chuckled quietly. "Never did make the connection with your mother, as I was too busy cursing her black-spotted face for filching my suds." "My mother does have that effect on people, yes." "Well, I suppose you've got some fine genes in you. Though I don't recall either your mother or K'Lan having that big old feather-duster attached to them." "Feather duster?" Mreh asked, his brows furrowed before he realized Thomas was referring to his tail. "Well, no. Hmm," Mreh said, never failing to be rather embarrassed by it. "My father's side doesn't have it either." "Well, well," Thomas said, smirking over at the Caitian. "Can't say as I've ever seen a Caitian with a tail like that. In fact, I haven't seen a tail like that since I saw a Denobulan fox." "All right, all right, I get the picture," Mreh interrupted grumpily. "Maybe I will coax a little more speed out of these engines." Mreh shook his head as Thomas merely laughed merrily. "Grumpy old coot, what're you still doing puttering around UP at your age?" "Oh, they haven't put me out to pasture, yet," Thomas said proudly. "Still some useful ideas rattling around in this head of mine. "You know, I was in on the Excelsior trans-warp project? Course, I was still baby-faced and didn't realize that when the other engineers were saying I couldn't find the 'aft deck of a well-traveled Connie with a map' that they weren't talking about ships," Thomas said with a sly grin, looking over to see if Mreh could get the joke. "How long did it take for you to mount that particular plasma coil in the right slot?" Mreh asked, to the gut-busting approval of the old engineer. "Not too much longer," Thomas said after getting his breath back. "We're still working on that, after all of these years, would you believe it? Along with Dyson we managed to get the Prometheus to run, but we still can't make it efficient. Though, I will say that the data we got from Voyager will go a long way to making it happen." "Ah, so that's what you do." Mreh said. "Working on transwarp would drive me to drink too." "Oh, I like you," Thomas said after laughing. "So, keep an eye out for it one of these days. Maybe a hot-shot pilot like you can get a crack at being the first to fly her." "I'm no hot-shot," Mreh said, smiling. "What's the fun of transwarp, anyway? Can't do this while you're at transwarp," he said and then put the shuttle into a tight barrel-roll. "Hot-shot," Thomas accused. "Mmm-hmm, yeah, whatever you say, sir." Mreh put the shuttle back on course and they passed a moment in companionable silence as their destination grew larger in the window. "Heh, as a doctor, would you say my file would probably have something written in it that will keep my doctor here poking his nose into my glass every time I sit down?" Thomas asked. "I would very well imagine that you'll have nutritional guidelines set down after this latest liver," Mreh agreed. "If your doctor cares, he'll be a pain in your butt." "Damn," Thomas grumped as he looked at UP out of the front. Mreh was ordered to stop at a certain transference point and to have Dr. Thomas ready for transport. He acknowledged the comm and moved the shuttle into position. Putting the shuttle into station keeping, he looked over at the old man. "This is your stop, Doctor." "Yep, back to the old grind," Thomas sighed. "It was a pleasure to meet you, son." "You as well, sir," Mreh said, gesturing the doctor onto the single transporter pad. "Take it easy, and if you should manage to get some genuine Guinness, treat it like liquid latinum and you won't have to worry about going back to Starfleet Medical." "Doubt I'll get any," Thomas said as he took his place on the pad. "Can't find any out this way, and I'll be damned if I'll order it just to have the doctor come to my door with a frown." "You never know," Mreh said as he tapped his comm badge. "Shuttle SFM-Alpha-005 to Utopia Planitia. Dr. Thomas is ready." As the old man began to shimmer, Mreh smiled. "Take care, you grumpy old coot," he said and was rewarded with one last laugh that faded away with the whine of the transporter. After returning to his seat and putting the shuttle back on course for earth, Mreh put through a comm. After a moment, his sister's face came on screen. "Mren, have a favor to ask of you," he said. "I need you to pick up a six-pack of Guinness, package it in a case that says 'Engineering manuals,' and send it off to a Dr. Michael Thomas at Utopia Planitia..."

After allowing James Earl Jones' voice into my head singing that song and hearing that mechanical puff, I was in stitches. So, I guess I'm going to have to send this one right back to you will.

I guess I should check this more often, lol. I have a theme going here for when I win, so even though it's been a long time, let's keep it going: Have fun!

Back Home to Work Part 1 Forwarding his address to Starfleet, Mreh headed down to San Francisco and his lifelong home. It was late, or more aptly quite early, so he quietly scribbled off a quick note on the temp-board in the kitchen before heading into his room. Though he'd been off at the Academy promptly after turning eighteen, and then off onto assignments after that, the space hadn't changed much in those years. Home would always be just that for the K'hal children, until one of them took over the reins. With the subconscious comfort of home in his blood, he stripped down into his boxers and crawled into bed, and then slept quickly and easily. At shortly after 0800, Mreh awoke to the smells of home cooking. He ambled out to the kitchen, shrugging into a worn and faded Academy t-shirt. Walking in, he discovered his father at his customary spot at the stove, his mother at the table with a PADD filled with news stuck in front of her nose. With an easy grin, Mreh settled into the seat next to her and yawned. "Well, well," Kharril said, peeking over her PADD. "Took you long enough to get back to the Alpha Quadrant, didn't it?" She asked. "Oh, hush Khar," JoLan said as he stirred. "It's good to see you, son, and whole." "Mom, dad," Mreh said. "It's nice to be back, though I don't know how long it'll last. I figure Starfleet will have my new orders sent in today, now that the Excal is on its way off to be rubble and parts." "Yes, I'm sure they'll have it in shortly," Kharril said, a knowing glint sparkling in her eye. "So, I hear you ditched your medical degree to become a hot-shot pilot." "There's never been anything wrong with your hearing," Mreh muttered, earning himself a cuff on the head. "I still have the degree, mother. I just don't have the desire... the will to do it any more. And it's not just being a pilot, it's operations and science as well." "All those years studying, training, sweating in a residency, out the window," she replied. "Seems like a waste." "Oh, it was good experience, both for me personally and professionally," Mreh countered. "In fact, it gives me an advantage. Normally, your average helmsman would fly the ship, park it in orbit, and have to twiddle one's fingers while the away teams are below. Since I have the added medical, operations, and science training, I can be included in away teams." "See, Khar, that's just what I told you," JoLan said. His long, trim frame and dashing looks seemed at odds with wearing an apron, fussing with a home-cooked meal, but he had learned it from his own mother, and was quite good in the kitchen. "Don't let your mother's nagging wear on you, Mreh." "You've managed to deal with it for twenty years, I think I can handle it for a morning," Mreh responded, earning yet another cuff from his mother, though a playful one. They continued trading barbs through the meal, as it was Kharril's best way to establish the well-being of her child. Satisfied with the answers, as well as with breakfast, she laid a paw over her stomach as they sat back from the wrapped chicken burritos. "I suppose you'll manage," she said. "Though if you..." She was obliged to stop as the computer interrupted. "Incoming data transmission for K'hal, Lieutenant Junior Grade Mreh from Starfleet Personnel," it stated. Jumping up, Mreh pounced over to the console and pulled up his orders. Upon seeing "Report to Starfleet Medical at 0800 hours," Mreh's stomach contracted. Was he being pressed back into service as a doctor? He skipped over the bureaucratic gibberish to find his assignment, and sighed in relief. He'd be flying shuttles, at least, though it seemed a hell of a step down from flying an Akira or Sovereign, as his last assignments had been. Looking for the assignment duration, he saw it was for four months. He could handle that. Looking back, he saw his mother grinning. "Definitely nothing wrong with your hearing," he said. "How many liters of brandy did you have to give away to swing getting me attached to SFM?" He asked. "A few," she said. "Don't snarl, either, young man," she warned in that tone mothers have. "After having you off in the Gamma for all of that time, incommunicado, I wasn't going to have you off to the edges of the galaxy right away if I could manage it. I'm not sure what Starfleet has in mind for all of you from Excalibur, but most of the officers were given posts of somewhere within three months to a year, rather than a more permanent posting. I figured I might as well get you near to home for a while." "Not to mention giving me an assignment where I can't hot dog at the stick, either. Flying ambulatories. You're slick," Mreh said with a wry smile and a swing of the tail. He didn't mind, really, though it was slightly galling to have your mother still manipulating behind the scenes at his age. Settling back into a chair at the table, he looked over at his father. "Did you know?" "Nope," JoLan said easily. "Do I ever?" The humor glinted in his eyes. "If you'd get your head out of the clouds, you might," Kharril stated. "Wouldn't that be getting my head out of nebulae?" Not one to hoard her cuffs, she gave JoLan one. Smirking over at his boy, he took a sip of his juice. "And people wonder why all of the K'hal men have hard heads." Mreh laughed, and so did Kharril. *** With the rest of the day off, Mreh headed over to the Academy to look up his youngest brother Rhan. Having been back to the Academy only a few times since graduating, and that a few years back, Mreh was struck once again by how it never seemed to change. Every square meter was still pristine, and ruthlessly organized. Packs of freshmen were still being run about in packs, upperclassmen still hurried from one point to another to finish their many assignments. Security also remained visibly high, with gold shirts patrolling or guarding the exteriors of the higher profile buildings. Peace, it seemed, was still a ways off here. Heading to one of the blocky dormitories, Mreh sighed. He didn't miss it a bit. After clearing through security, he made his way up to the third floor and his brother's room. The door was open as he arrived, and music softly wafted out of the room. Sticking his head in the doorway, Mreh saw his brother Rhan and his Trill roommate huddled together over a desk. With a grin, Mreh knocked on the doorframe. "Is this a bad time?" He asked. Both cadets turned back, and as the Trill didn't seem to be surprised to see a Caitian at the door, Mreh figured that he was used to Rhan's family dropping by unannounced. His brother, grinning like the proverbial fool, jumped out of the chair and pounced over to the door. "Mreh, you made it!" Rhan said before heartily embracing his brother, slapping his paws soundly against his brother's back. "You said you didn't know if you could make it by before you got your orders." "I couldn't," Mreh conceded. "Seeing as my orders will leave me here in San Francisco for four months, it wasn't a problem, though." Grinning, he looked his brother over. "Finally got that baby fat off you, I see." "Yeah, I'm a lean, mean Operations machine now," Rhan said. "You're going to be around here for a while, eh? Where'd you get posted?" "Flying the ambulance shuttles to and from Starfleet Medical." "Heh," Rhan gruffed. "Still can't picture you out of your medical blues and on the bridge." "Oh, on the bridge, yes. I'm still wearing the blues though," Mreh said with a laugh. "I was also attatched to Sci-Ops, so I figured I could keep them. I'm sure the people at SFM will feel right at home." They settled together on Rhan's bed while the Trill excused himself and left the room with a friendly wave to the Caitian brothers. Looking around the cube, Mreh noted that they were a clean and organized duo even according to Academy standards. "What about after?" Rhan asked. "Are you planning on staying a pilot?" "Yes," Mreh said without hesitation. "I figure I'll still have to treat a patient or two in emergencies, but I'm done being a full time doctor. I'll do what I can to maintain the license for now, though. Being a utility player never hurt anyone's chances in Starfleet." Looking at his brother's dresser, he saw a collection of small frames filled with holo-photos. Most were of the K'hals, and Mreh was unsurprised to see himself featured prominently. His baby brother had always looked up to him as much as they both had looked up to their father. There was, however, a picture of a pretty red-headed woman also prominently displayed. "Who's she?" He asked. "Kara," Rhan responded, with dreaminess in his eyes and breathless lustiness in his voice. "She's in my year, a navigation and command track." "Your girlfriend," Mreh said, a statement more than question. "Yeah." "Hmm," Mreh murmured, noticing the rather smug happiness in that one "yeah." Looking at his brother, a young man now and not the often hyperactive and occasionally annoying kitten he last saw, Mreh sighed. "Have you told our parents about her?" He queried. "Yeah, I did," Rhan said. "Dad just did what you did, study me for a minute and then sigh. Mother grilled me for two hours before I stormed off. Yes, we've seen each other since," Rhan said before Mreh could ask. "Yes, mother and I are speaking, and no, she still doesn't seem happy about it." "Human, your Kara?" "Half. The other half is Risan," Rhan said with a wiggle of his brows. "Do you..." Mreh shook his head. "I'm not going to interrogate you. Mom does that well enough for the rest of us. One question, and one question only: do you love her?" "Of course I love mom, even if she is a pain in the tail," Rhan said. "Rhan," Mreh said wearily. "Yeah, I love Kara," Rhan said with a wistful sigh. "I'm working up to asking her to marry me." "Good luck," Mreh said, rubbing Rhan's head with a paw. "Mom will still be disappointed, but she'll get over it. She just wants barrels of grandkittens." "Well, maybe you could work on that." Rhan grinned over at his brother. "Give her some yourself to fend her off, and maybe work a little medical magic." "First might happen sooner than the second," Mreh said. He wasn't going to tell him about JoNs yet, as he wasn't quite sure what to make of the torn-eared security woman himself, yet, other than basic chemistry. "For my little brother, though, I can poke around, see what I can find about the chances of making that mix and match fertile." "I can always count on you, Mreh. You'll find a way." *** After spending the morning and lunch with Rhan, Mreh managed to snag a shuttle and fly over to Europe to visit his sister in Oxford. She was the black cat of the family, having decided to forego Starfleet for civilian life. Her home near the university was stylishly appointed, and her gaggle of roommates stylishly decorated themselves. They spent a good portion of his afternoon walking and talking around the English countryside, discussing their plans for life and their parents, and of course Rhan's imminent engagement with a non-Caitian. They dined together at a posh little restaurant in the city before he was obliged to return to San Francsico with the shuttle. He had managed to see all of his family except his oldest younger brother, Hakran, who was in deep space on the Copernicus. Other than his mother's prickly way of dealing with her kittens scattering to the winds, he was happy with how they were. His experiences with the enemies in the Gamma Quadrant had soured him a bit, but he figured this stint on Earth so near his family would help sweeten the pot once again. Starting tomorrow morning, he'd get started. (To Be Continued...)

May I please have: Make me purr

Starfleet Personnel File 604-AC-GFR-6651 | K'hal, JoLan | Cdr Personal Data Name JoLan K'hal Gender Male Species/Race Caitian Hair Color Black Skin Color Gold & buff fur with dark spots Height 1.89 m Weight 72.3 kg Age 56 SY Marital Status Married Kharril (Mrenga) K'hal Place of Birth Tr'Rinnal, Cait Starfleet Data ID 604-AC-GFR-6651 Rank Commander Specializations(s) Science Assignment Starfleet Academy Position Professor of Astrophysics Commendations Hawking Medal of Achievement Discovery of Erissian Wormhole Trigger Disciplinary Suspension Assault SD 9810.21-9811.21 Medical History Allergies None Conditions None Dist Marks Scar Left Buttock2cm bilateral Procedures Surgery Removal of Thillaxian spine Left Buttock Physical Last: SD 10704.08 Score: 92.3 SFI Psychological Last: SD 10608.12 Score: 88.2 SMI Education History Primary Tr'Rinnal Municipal Primary Tr'Rinnal, Cait Secondary Tr'Rinnal Municipal Secondary Tr'Rinnal, Cait Tertiary Starfleet Academy San Francisco, Earth B.S. Physics (Astro) (Quantum Mechanics Minor) Starfleet Academy San Francisco, Earth M.S. Physics (Astro) Starfleet Academy San Francisco, Earth Ph.D. Physics (Astro) Family Information Bio Father Lt Cdr Mrehran K'hal Male, deceased Bio Mother Lt M'Vran (Trarnal) K'hal [ret] Female, 84 SY Gr'Loss Retirement Home Tr'Rinnal, Cait Spouse(s) Lt Cdr Kharril (Mrenga) K'hal Female, 48 SY Asst Chief of Security, Starfleet MedicalSan Francisco, Earth Bio Sibling(s) Cpt Morahla K'hal Female, 58 SY CO: USS Hyperion NCC-94561 Bio Children Lt JG Mreh K'hal Male, 28 SY Navigator USS Excalibur Ens Hakran K'hal Male, 25 SY Science Officer USS Copernicus Mren K'hal Female, 22 SY Student, Oxford University Oxford, England, Earth Cdt Rhan K'hal Male, 20 SY Cadet (Operations), Starfleet Academy San Francisco, Earth Summary The son of two Starfleet Officers, JoLan followed in his family's footsteps, though he had always considered himself a scientist. After postings on science vessels on deep-space exploration surveys, he quickly discovered he preferred remaining on a planet. After transferring back to Earth so that he could resume his studies, JoLan continued his pursuit of knowledge in Astrophysics. Receiving both his masters and his doctorate, he then began working as an assistant professor while continuing research in the Starfleet facilities in San Francisco. During his schooling, he met Kharril Mrenga, another Caitian with a Starfleet upbringing. After a 7 month relationship, they were married by Starfleet Admiral Trung in sight of the Golden Gate Bridge. JoLan and Kharril have had four children, two of whom are commissioned officers of Starfleet, another is in Starfleet Academy. Their only daughter, however, is studying psychology at Oxford University. Starfleet Personnel File 606-XF-LEM-8321 | K'hal, Kharril | Lt Cdr Personal Data Name Kharril K'hal Gender Female Species/Race Caitian Hair Color Black Skin Color White fur with dark spots Height 1.62 m Weight 49.9 kg Age 48 SY Marital Status Married JoLan K'hal Place of Birth Tr'Mieran, Cait Starfleet Data ID 606-XF-LEM-8321 Rank Lieutenant Commander Specializations(s) Security Assignment Starfleet Medical Position Assistant Chief of Security Medical History Allergies Basil, Trinitaripan Conditions None Dist Marks None Procedures Chemical Treatement of Ovarian Cyst Right Ovary Physical Last: SD 10704.08 Score: 96.8 SFI Psychological Last: SD 10608.12 Score: 97.5 SMI Education History Primary Tr'Mieran Municipal Primary Tr'Mieran, Cait Secondary Tr'Rinnal Municipal Secondary Tr'Rinnal, Cait Tertiary Starfleet Academy San Francisco, Earth B.S. Forensics (Phychology Minor) Starfleet Academy San Francisco, Earth M.S. Forensics Family Information Bio Father Cpt Hraow Mrenga Male, deceased Bio Mother Sgt (Havral) Mrenga Female, deceased Spouse(s) Cdr JoLan K'hal Female, 56 SY Professor of Astrophysics, Starfleet AcademySan Francisco, Earth Bio Sibling(s) Trenral Mrenga Female, 47 SY Lab Technician Tr'Mieran, Cait Bio Children Lt JG Mreh K'hal Male, 28 SY Navigator USS Excalibur Ens Hakran K'hal Male, 25 SY Science Officer USS Copernicus Mren K'hal Female, 22 SY Student, Oxford University Oxford, England, Earth Cdt Rhan K'hal Male, 20 SY Cadet (Operations), Starfleet Academy San Francisco, Earth Summary The daughter of one Starfleet Officer and a Starfleet Marine, Kharril followed in her family's footsteps. Though slim and trim, and quite beautiful, she was always the rough and tumble type, ready to leap into action to defend others. As such, her entry into security was hardly a surprise. After graduating with honors from Starfleet Academy and the marriage to JoLan (whom she had admired from a distance at their secondary school), she was able to swing postings with him, as there was always a need for security officers on starships and planetside. They were married by Starfleet Admiral Trung in sight of the Golden Gate Bridge. JoLan and Kharril have had four children, two of whom are commissioned officers of Starfleet, another is in Starfleet Academy. Their only daughter, however, is studying psychology at Oxford University. Hakran K'hal:

Updated: Once again changed visual style, parents bios posted below this update.

After waking up with a zit, the embarrassed 737 tried to hide when it saw the 777 it has a crush on taxiing in.

Updated: Added the necessary info regarding my absence as well as changes regarding character's appearance based on new artwork. Visual style also updated.