Samantha_Kent

Well, as I understand it...it depends on the person using it, really. It's called, technically, "microblogging," the idea being that you are keeping a blog except in very small chunks (140 characters or less). Some people really do the moment-to-moment thing but a lot of people are less extreme about it, just tossing out something every couple of hours or even every couple of days about important events. My dad just uses it to post links to interesting news stories. It's also a communication device, as you can address posts to certain people and have conversations. I really don't know; I just kind of grabbed one and thought I'd mess around with it. I guess I will report back with further updates as events warrant. I'm avoiding a paper. Can you tell? :D

I have finally committed to the digital world and gotten a Twitter account. Huzzah huzzah. :D

Killer lint. Sam couldn't restrain a slight nervous laugh as she stared at the readings coming back. Killer biological zombie death lint. Strangely enough, this was, more or less, an entirely accurate assessment of the hostile force the ship was currently dealing with. It was a microscopic -- possibly even community-based unicellular -- organism, which had managed to encase itself in a sort of fibrous inorganic shell. This, when Kat and then Sam and Daena had first tried to scan it, had thrown off both sensors and the evidence of their own eyes and led them to believe it might simply be the sort of collected dust one occasionally found under one's bed. Closer scans had revealed the truth, however. It was immobile, probably traveled in much the same manner as pollen or something like that, and at first glance seemed, in fact, remarkably harmless. The bioreadings were so faint as to not even be immediately intelligible, and the small ball of fuzz currently residing under Sam's microscope could not have seemed less likely to be the root cause of mass chaos aboard a Federation starship. But Sam had seen firsthand the havoc that it had wreaked in the minds of all those with even remote psi-sensitivity. The dreams...of things just this side of wrong...Malik and Daena and Tom and...herself...images this thing in front of her had put into her head. Into the entire crew's heads. Violated their minds. Psychomalignant killer biological zombie death lint. There were reports of other fallout as well; Kat had just informed her that a body had been sent up to sickbay, his lungs filled with the stuff. That had Sam very worried; so far she and the others hadn't come up with enough of a sample all at once that could possibly do that kind of damage. Was there some huge store of it somewhere? Or had it reacted with the crewman's body and suddenly multiplied? As the latter option was the only one she could hope to investigate scientifically, she set about trying to determine how she might simulate the different aspects of a humanoid body making contact with the sample. The variables, were, unfortunately, numerous, but it was a starting point. Skin contact -- negative growth response. Hair contact -- negative growth response. Starfleet regulation uniform jacket contact -- negative growth response. Starfleet regulation undershirt contact -- negative growth response. If there was a catalyst, it was not external to the body, then. Progress of a sort. Nothing to account for the relatively massive amount found on the body of the affected officers, though. No useful information except that, for something biologic, it was bloody close to dormant. Sam was starting to get frustrated with the whole process and was also running out of likely bodily materials to test. So she spat in the sample. It wasn't like there wasn't plenty of the stuff left. More samples had come in from Kat and she was rapidly coming to have something like a small collection. So she spat in the sample. And sure enough it grew like crazy. She had to toss up a forcefield to make sure it didn't start spreading out of its sample container, and it piled up the sides until she had what looked like a small grey linty box sitting on her console. Moisture...it grows with moisture. It got into their mouths, hit the moisture in their lungs, and swelled up with it, stopped up their systems like a plug in a drain. Psychomalignant biological killer death lint with a drinking problem. Wonderful.

So wait...did Serenity not win the vote anyway? Or did NASA just decide to pull a Soloman and avoid the whole rigamarole altogether? ::mildly disappointed::

:D Here's one:

I too would recommend the right-hand one. :-) However, bear in mind that all Academy games are played as humans -- once you've graduated you can begin constructing a bio for the specific advanced game you join.

::avoids the obvious joke about not wanting to have to watch Eagle 24/7:: That's pretty awesome. :o

::knew that was going to happen::

That would be pretty awesome. I wrote a percussion ensemble score for our high school production of Macbeth and we played it all up on the stage; kind of an intense experience. I would have loved to see something like that all candlelit; must have been epic. Hmmm...this thread has been on topic for WAY too long. ::hums the SPAM song through her teeth::

You can attend whichever Academy sims you wish and as many as you wish per week; you simply cannot play on an Advanced sim until the GMs as a group clear you for graduation. This can take different lengths of time and different numbers of Academies for different people, so come on out and have fun whenever your schedule permits. :o

Welcome to STSF, T'aral -- hope you have a great time playing here! STSF has eleven games, each of which play once a week; they are spread across different time periods. USS Hood is our TOS sim, USS Agincourt is future-era, USS Challenger is set in TOS-Movie era. The others are for the most part spread across TNG/DS9/VGR period, though Talon is set in the Romulan Empire and QoB/Lakota combines a Klingon and Federation crew. You can find the schedule for which games play when, along with our schedule of Academy training games, at http://www.stsf.net/schedule.php . Feel free to ask around if you have any questions. :o

Yeah, tell me about it. We faked it a capella and it went pretty well, and of course we had audience sympathy at that point. :P But I was still about ready to put my fist through the wall.

Happy birthday, Sorehl!

::approves:: Our pianist didn't show up. God, I love live theater...

::cries:: Comcast's e-mail server is down and the show I'm co-directing goes up tonight and is crashing around my ears. Help...

"What do you mean I look like the love child of Chris Cooper and Steve Martin?!"

This morning around 9:00 I tried to log on and received a message regarding an "IPS Server Error" -- I guess this is to do with the InvisionBoard service rather than the website server itself but thought I should post it anyway.

Welcome to the family, Seiben! :o

Will Marx was sitting in the comfy chair on the bridge. LoAmi was in his ready room and Alces...was probably with several bottle of vintage wines empty in his quarters. Sam Kent sat at the rear science station on the bridge, en route to the Arcadia's next mission, trying hard to focus on her work and move on from dwelling about the events of Aether. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Commander Marx stand and walk about the stations, looking over the shoulders of the crewmen. As he paused by Sam's station, looking over her shoulder at the data on the screen, she glanced at him sidelong, looking a little nervous; she had not, unfortunately, forgotten being called out by him on the bridge regarding Archie. "Hello, sir." "Lieutenant..." he said. "You seem...perplexed. Care to talk about it?" Sam blinked at him, then smiled faintly. "It's been a perplexing few days, sir." "That it has been, Lieutenant. And it was a situation that I wasn't comfortable being in the rear on." Will leaned against the console, his back to the display. Sam chuckled softly. "Would gladly have traded places with you, sir." She looked down at her console and tapped it, calling up a composition analysis of a nearby nebula as the Arcadia slid smoothly past. "That makes two of us." Sam watched the analysis scroll along the screen. "I'm just glad it's over, really, and that we won...so to speak...the stars won't last long in their current state but they wouldn't have anyway." Will chuckled darkly. "Use and abuse natural resources has been a motto for many a nation or company throughout the history of civilization, Lieutenant." He paused, then lowered his voice just loud enough for only her to hear. "There's something on your mind, Sam. And it isn't the binary system that made up Aether." Sam looked at him again, then glanced around at the rest of the bridge, and seemed to be working something around in her mouth before saying it. "Nothing, sir...nothing in particular. I just looked awful dumb from start to finish on this thing, and probably acted it too. And that's not something I enjoy..." "We were all thrown into a situation that snowballed out of our control. All because a certain engineer felt the need to snoop, coupled with certain...personal issues of his. Do you know how many times I wanted to go down to the core and plug HAL back into the ship's system? Just so we could defeat the AI on a level playing field..." Sam didn't know what the HAL reference was all about, but she was too preoccupied to inquire. She shook her head slightly. "I could have defeated her. I could have shot her -- shot myself." She paused. "I almost did. That wasn't the problem...she knew things we didn't. Or that I thought we didn't." "Sam, you weren't expecting to see your doppleganger. That, in itself, is reason to cause doubt. And it certainly didn't help that Archie programmed it to look like you. Nor did it help that it wound up with your intellect." Will's voice lowered still further. "I wonder how many other personnel files he's breached..." Sam felt herself flush slightly. "I wouldn't know, sir. I didn't know he would have had reason to look at mine until...well, until you took pains to announce it. Sir." She felt bad for the slight bitter tone in her voice but it slipped out in spite of her. "Sorry about that, Sam..." Will said. "It was, as we noticed, a helluva day." Sam grunted. "That's putting it mildly." She puffed air out through her nose and looked at him sidelong with a determined half-grin. "Guess we're both glad to be moving on, huh?" "Definitely, Sam. Quite frankly after our last mission, I wouldn't mind leading a task force headed for the Breen homeworld..." Sam maked a face. "I'll pass on that if it's an option, sir." She paused, then laughed. "Could do with something nice and quiet but all empirical evidence seems to suggest that isn't particularly likely." "Which is as usual for us. Of course, what I could use is a starbase with their Office of Special Investigations. Not that I don't lack faith in my own department, but additional manpower would be always appreciated." There was a pause as Sam absorbed this. "Investigating...Archie?" "He breached confidential personnel files. Who knows what else he's looked at? Considering there are several 'Eyes Only' files regarding a particular Weapon of Mass Destruction we built." Sam's eyes opened a little bit with curiosity at that, and also a flash concern for Archie in spite of her anger with him. "Ah...yessir. Have you taken him in? To be questioned?" "I sent Malik down to Sickbay with a couple of officers. He should be in the brig soon." Sam nodded slowly, suddenly feeling very tired. "I don't know whether to be furious with him or sorry for him. I don't know what he was thinking." "Honestly, Sam," Will said. "I don't know what he was thinking either. But that's what the questioning will focus on." He paused, then said quietly, "I'm just hoping he was curious about you as a person, and not looking for confidential materials. But, it doesn't matter. He's violated Starfleet regulations by snooping. And he'll need to pay the piper." Sam nodded again. "I know. And I'd rather know for sure. I just can't help feeling responsible. Like you and Eagle said...I should have noticed. Maybe I could have headed this off." "You wouldn't have known anyway, Sam. If anything, he should have been man enough to consider asking you out, or even just talking to you. He still has to take the penalties for his actions." He noted Sam's exhausted expression. "You should log off, and get some sleep, Sam. Your terminal will be here tomorrow." Sam rubbed a hand at the back of her neck gently and grinned a little easier at the reassurance. "I know, sir. Just finishing up some analysis...few minutes more." Will stood up from where he was leaning on the console. "Not too much longer, Sam. And don't worry about Archie. We'll take excellent care of him." He started to walk back to the command pit. Sam sighed. "Alright, sir. Thank you." She waited until the analysis pinged its completion, then pushed herself to her feet and headed for the turbolift.

That would be "and Sundays at three." :o Welcome back to STSF!

Aw...too bad. :o

It was all over. Sam sat in the science labs watching the last of the data come back from the Aether stars. The last of the repair work had been finished up, the inductor's processes had been reversed and the stars now hung at their normal rate of reaction, more or less. They wouldn't last long in the grand scheme of things; they had already been on their last legs and Sam-Kent's machinations in their innards had not helped to improve them. Aether had at best a millenia of existence remaining. Sam sighed. She would have preferred a different outcome; she wished there was a way to restabilize the dying stars, but that had proved impossible. She wished there was a way to preserve the unique system of Aether and its people, but that would, in time, prove impossible as well. Arcadia had managed to do its good work only in the short term, not the long, and it pained her to realize that. She was more pained, however, by what could only be described as her useless behavior in the Aether's Caress mainframe. Her idea to get some of the crew in there had worked -- in retrospect Sam was really astonished that it had gone as well as it had -- and they had returned safely with some of the necessary data for the abort of the Aether supernovas and no greater physical damage than a slight headachy disorientation which was quickly wearing off. But upon obtaining that data, when Sam had finally come face to face with the doppelganger Archie had created...things had broken down. Sam had not realized until she reached that central core, and they spoke face to face, just how humiliated this whole experience had made her. She was furious -- furious at the artificial intelligence called Sam-Kent, furious at the Aether's Caress facility that had made her possible, and livid at Archie Phoenix for creating this mess in the first place. She had a greater handle on that anger now and could look at it with some objectivity, but it still burned in her gut. Sam-Kent had gleefully told her -- in Malik's hearing, and in the presence of that Cardassian engineer -- that Archie was close enough to stalking her; Will Marx had announced Archie's infatuation to the entire bridge crew. It was unnerving, it was annoying, and it was humiliating -- Sam hated feeling played for a fool. Perhaps she'd been naive in her dealings with Archie, perhaps her personal life had more knots in it than even she seemed to realize, but to have it shoved in her face like that had been maddening. And to her greater embarrassment still, when she had found herself in the Aether's Caress mainframe and finally had something to lash out against, she had come right to the brink of giving in to Sam-Kent's taunts and blowing her program to bits with one phaser blast. She had been ready to destroy, for lack of a better word, herself -- an unnerving enough thought on its own -- and to risk the lives of an entire city of civilians. At the time she had not known the progress the other teams had been making; as far as she had known, Sam-Kent held the only answers. And yet she had been more than ready to fire -- her finger had been on the trigger ready to squeeze. She hadn't, of course. She had recollected herself, tried to negotiate, let the gun drop...but she had come very, very close. The idea horrified her. Could she really give in that easily to her own personal feelings in the midst of a city collapsing? That will not happen again, she thought firmly, an order to herself. Her fingers brushed against the shiny new pip attached to her collar. Lieutenant, senior grade, now; the promotion had come as a surprise amid the chaotic aftermath of her return, and given how she had acted in the core, she had privately wondered if she deserved it, even as she had accepted the small bit of metal pinned next to her neck. No, this would not happen again. No matter how humiliating the experience -- and this one still made her whole face glow with embarrassment when she thought about it -- no matter what the provocation...she could not be her own first concern. There was a low clatter underneath one of the lab consoles and Skitter (as Daena had dubbed the small mechanized spider-robot which had followed Sam back from the Saint-Enoch during the New Atlantis mission) scuttled across the floor past her. Sam paused the data analysis scrolling by her screen and watched the science department's metallic pet as he performed his rounds of the small room. She and Daena had "puppy-proofed" the room soon after their return from the New Atlantis nebula and it had become Skitter's new home -- he had several of the younger science crewmen a little unnerved but most of the department had taken a liking to the strange machine. Disconnected from the control apparatus which had directed his actions aboard the Saint-Enoch, Skitter was confined entirely to whatever programming he contained internally. Sam had not been able to determine exactly how that programming operated yet, but it seemed to be relatively sophistocated. It was not artificial intelligence -- certainly not sentient -- but it did appear to be adaptive, which had given the outward impression of "learning" as he had become used to his new surroundings. He could now locate the small power fixture where he could recharge and determine when it was active, could avoid obstacles and prevent himself from interfering with active consoles, and had started to learn a few simple commands passed through his aural and visual receptors. He knew no verbal cues, but his adaptive programming had let her (and, to a lesser extent, Daena) "train" him to a few whistles similar to those she had exchanged with him on the Saint-Enoch. Three shrill soprano notes were now a "freeze" order at which he would stop in place instantly, three lower ones released him from the freeze, and a ululating whistle-yelp which it had taken some time to perfect now brought him skittering to her side no matter where in the lab he was currently exploring. This she used now, and at the sound he immediately halted, pirouetted gracefully around on his numerous metallic legs, and clattered back across the floor next to her. She nudged him with her foot and he angled his laser eye around on her, then with a quick leap, latched himself to her pants leg, his preferred mode of transportation since he had used it to transport back to Arcadia with her. She slouched back in her seat and let herself spin lazily on the laboratory chair, feeling his weight and grip tighten and loosen on her leg according to the strength of the centrifugal force. She wished Brian were there to talk to, but he had been recalled to Earth during the aftermath; she didn't know why, but she suspected something to do with the New Atlantis rigamarole. She hoped it was merely a debriefing but she didn't know for sure...he hadn't said much. And that was all very well and good, but it left her feeling suddenly very alone. She let her spinning drift to a stop and looked down at the spider-robot clinging to her leg. Skitter's laser eye performed a circular sweep at the halt in relative motion and then fixed on her face, looking back at her tired expression. Tightening his grip on her leg, he abruptly launched himself in three smooth motions to her lap, then her shoulder, then onto the top of her head with a mid-range melodic whistle, where he settled to once again survey the room. Sam couldn't help laughing, even as she reached up to disentangle the robot's tight grip on her hair. "At least you're in a good mood."

Aww...too bad -- we'll miss you, Jami! Hope you have fun at the reunion. :o

Wait...I was promised dancing stormtroopers!

Oh...that's just unfortunate. I love Stephen Colbert, but... ;)