S02Ep07 Brothers

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S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Gabe » Fri Nov 09, 2012 6:15 pm

Season 2
The Legacy, a computer program that caters the ability to predict the future has prophesied the end for humanity. The Council, an unseen unheard backbone of the Federation, who has used the Legacy to stay two steps ahead of the prophecy, turn from preparing the Federation for the end, to combating it as new variable is introduced into the Legacy's quantum equation, "The Prophet." With this, the Council moves to building a new ship, the most technological advanced starship ever created, and with that forging a new crew, the best and brightest that the Federation has. The ship will be known as the Eternity, and her crew will be the last best hope for saving humanity.

But are The Council's acts going against the Legacy, circumventing its dire prophecy, or, are they just another stepping stone to mankind's unescapable fate?

Episode 7 "Brothers"
Now knowing their connection and understanding that their purpose is much greater than realized, Commander Rick Barlow and the crew of Hope ventured to the far reaches of the Delta Quadrant, now knowing where to find the aforementioned Man in Black.

<<Episode Opens for Play on Nov.19, 2012>>
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Bourne » Tue Nov 13, 2012 12:04 pm

Prologue

Crossing the Bar
~By FSF Bourne

Joanna Jamieson rustled through the vegetables she had collected; the planet below them almost a distant memory as they broke orbit, the small shuttle vibrated as it ascended into the silence of space. Jo, without much thought on the disturbance, mused over the changes over the past year; she used to hate flying, the minor fluctuations as a ship would maneuver or the hum of a large vessels engines as it peaked at Warp now almost second nature, like she had lived aboard ships her entire life. Everything she had been through with the crew of the Eternity had shown her that her own personal problems, those little niggles that everyone held inside, meant so little in the grand scheme of things. Jo remembered Maxwell and although she knew she respected him the memory was clouded by that of Sion, a sourness of distaste filled her mouth, the two memories - largely of the same person - couldn’t be more contrary. Sion’s grip as it pawed at her throat, he held her life in his hands and with a single pound of pressure could have decided her fate. She lived. She couldn’t answer why but he had relented and she had survived. He alluded to The Writer, some unseen force with a hand in what was happening; a being with some sick sense of humour, certainly. Although the situation dire Jo couldn’t help but remember the hope that swelled in the back of her mind. He called her special and that she had a purpose - something she had searched for her entire life - was he pulling her strings? Did he know what she wanted to hear? Joanna’s hands rustled through the small bag without much thought of what she was doing. The memories far nearer to the surface than she could ever expect and would certainly stay there for the longest time, certainly while they were still stranded out in the expanse of the Delta Quadrant.

Sarah Jamieson couldn’t help but watch her wife. Her mind and body had effectively become separated as she carried out the menial task of documenting their collection of fruits - a thanks from the planet - yet her mind obviously perplexed with something ever so much more complex. Sarah recognised that look that she had seen many times. The ever so slight furrow in her brow, the exhale between pursed lips that caused her cheeks to stretch outwards and the movements of her tongue within her mouth. Jo wasn’t happy yet she wasn’t ready to talk about it, this was her private time, locked away from everything as she pictured information in her mind and formulated something resembling a large mural in her mind so she could better understand it all; she had told Sarah about it once, gave a vivid description of it all that Sarah struggled to comprehend. Sarah couldn’t blame her for not wanting to talk, Jo had to watch as she had been closed off for this entire journey and near silent for days at a time. Sarah mulled over the past months and the burden of command that was thrust upon her and her reaction to such expectations. Her nerves had ruled her decisions and the indecisive reactions had cost people their lives. She had sacrificed friends because she needed minutes rather than seconds to evacuate the Eternity. She watched a friend die and knew many others that had paid the ultimate price. She wasn’t ready, she betrayed the trust that Colin had put in her and her reaction was a long mission away from everyone to some distant planet where their judging eyes could not fall on her guilty face any longer. No one had ever trusted her with such responsibility before, her family were a mess of mistrust and secrets while her career had taken vastly differing paths on numerous occasions. One person she could trust now sat across from her and something hung in the air, something untold and hidden that neither of them tried to acknowledge.

The shuttle Peace had a long journey home. Even at full speed it would be a six-week trip and that’s if they found Hope straight away; Sarah and Jo had signed up to this mission knowing that they could spend years looking for their friends once the mission was complete if they were drawn in to some other conflict or forced away from the projected route. Sarah had accepted deep down hoping they would never return and Jo had consented to try and use the months alone to save what was left of her wife’s soul. She saw it ebbing away with every day and knew this was a last ditch effort. They talked sporadically throughout the first few weeks until Sarah finally opened up as they neared the journey’s end. Jo hadn’t pushed, she waited for the perfect time - a time of Sarah’s choosing - and knew it would come eventually. Even though times were tough Jo knew Sarah would never let the wedge between them become something permanent; the bond they shared was too strong and built on solid foundations that neither of them could risk losing. They were symbiotic, the needed each other to survive and it was only a matter of time before they reunited.

“Well doesn’t look like we’ll be having those kids any time soon,” Sarah broke a silence that had lasted three days apart from fleeting moments of general chit-chat. “Suppose it’s a good thing we missed that appointment really.”

“What?” Jo span from the rear chair to face Sarah, brow furrowed deeper than Sarah could remember ever seeing it. “Oh,” Jo shook her head, Sarah’s abrupt conversations and tangents were stuff of legend but this stood atop even her own personal bests. “Yeah, but doesn’t mean it will never happen.” Jo could hardly believe the cavalier manner in which Sarah had brought it up knowing how sensitive an issue it was. Their plan to adopt was squandered when Sarah was recalled to Eternity with Jo in tow. The house, the land, the family. It had fallen into place rather easy until Maxwell had shuffled it all off the table with a single sweep of his arm.

“You’ve seen what I see every tour,” Sarah said, a small shake of her head following. “The darkest of people and the destruction we still cause for each other spread across a galaxy and not to mention her.” Sarah leant forward, resting her elbows on her knee and clasping her hands together in front of her, subconsciously she rubbed her wrist, memories of the restraints a ghastly reminder of what had happened in her youth.

“You taint everything with your past,” Jo replied after seconds of silence, watching the left hand rub at her right wrist, the low hum of the engine a light background to the conversation. “Think of the greatness we have seen. That little boy we just returned to his family. That was something truly memorable. We did something wonderful. Eternity has done some great things and we have met some amazing people. I’ve no fear of raising a child in this universe - even in this distant quadrant far from home - because I know if we did it together it would be something wondrous.” Jo paused. “The pain and hatred will always be there no matter how rosy a locale we choose to have children.”

“And Sion?” Sarah offered a quick retort.

“Sion who?” Jo couldn’t help but offer a small drop of levity as she swallowed the lump in her throat, the sheer dropping of his name sent a tremor of fear through the core of her body. “So we destroy him and his army of drones, we get home and we put things right and then we have a child; I don’t care about all that. It’s fluff, it’s a distraction, nothing more.”

“You’re worried about it even though you won’t admit it; what he said to you shook you more than you’re letting on I can see it in your eyes.” Sarah shook her head as she exhaled loudly.

“You and I know I am. But if I - we - if we allow him to shake what we want away from our grasp, to strip us of the only thing that separates us - our humanity - then no matter how hard a battle we fight or how many missiles are exchanged across a battlefield, he has won.” Jo reached out with her left hand and gingerly rubbed Sarah’s cupped hands. She smiled and extended her second hand cupping Sarah’s in her own. “I can’t stand to see him beating you like this. You’re better than that.”

Sarah and Jo talked into the night as they went back and forth from arguing to simple discussions of the future. They talked about turning the shuttle around and finding a hamlet together; they decided on a cabin on the edge of a lake in moderate weather and of finding a child to raise. Alone and distanced from all the turmoil and death that had surrounded them for so long. They both knew it a fantasy but something they simply longed for so, for the shortest of time, they let it ride. A spark of hope in the clouded fog of war.

The computer murmured response to a scan that Sarah had left on automatic; it had picked up a familiar signal in the debris of a hard fought battle in the local sector. Sarah took her seat in the pilot’s chair and brought up the details on the main console. She slowed the engines and plotted a passing vector, her eyes searching for something recognizable, some form of sign that their friends had been here - had been here and survived. The computer recognized parts and yet could give no fix. There was a large piece of familiar debris in the centre of what was now a graveyard. To get a fix they would need to enter and risk everything. They could pass by without a second thought but this was the best lead they had found in nearly a week. Most of the debris was unfamiliar but it was fresh and they were on the right track.

“We need to go in Jo, I’m going to need you help.” Sarah said.

“With what?” Jo moved from the back of the cabin and sat beside Sarah.

“We are going to be really tight in this debris field and if anything shows up we’re pretty much sitting ducks. We won’t have warp or even full-impulse while in amongst the debris so you’re going to have to control the power systems like I showed you.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Jo was filled with zeal, Sarah was showing confidence in Jo’s new found skills and she couldn’t be happier. Jo was a fast learner, she just hoped she didn’t mess up in the key moments.

The Peace maneuvered inward, Sarah had manual control over the shuttle as she quickly input commands with her left hand. Her right fluttered the engine controls to directly control thrust through the thick shrouds of debris towards the central most piece. She moved gently without trying to agitate pieces of debris; she knew that in such tight quarters a single nudge could cause a catastrophic wave of debris that would build until all within its wake would be swept from its path into oblivion.

The shuttle twisted and turned gently at extremely low speeds. Jo called out oncoming pieces while Sarah moved in a circular motion trying to spot spaces that would allow closer access to the centre. Something sat central in this field like nothing they could ever comprehend; it was a piece of ship but was it pressurized? It was large enough to be a ship but was dormant in this sea of death.

“Dammit, what’s going on?” The computer bleated an alarm that pierced directly through Jo’s skull. She nearly leapt to the console across to her right and jammed her hand down to silence the noise. She slipped quickly into the secondary chair with a thump and looked forward to the display.

“We’ve got multiple contacts,” Sarah said uniformly, she had slipped back into the protection of her training; the movements of her fingers were efficient and never ending as she began rerouting power systems to engines and shields while keeping their power signal to a minimum.

“Who?!” Jo watched, helpless as Sarah took charge. Though the training had her familiar with the controls nothing could compare with the years of experience Sarah had accumulated.

“I don’t know,” Sarah spoke quick and sharp as her hand navigated the console. “Shutting down main engine and going to secondary guidance thrusters,” She paused momentarily and without noticing switched to a slightly lower tone. “We’re running silent.”

The two women sat in silence. The directional thrusters Sarah was using to make the slightest of course corrections caused minor vibrations throughout the hull. Jo leant forward onto the console and watched, filled with nervous energy. Sarah watched the screen as she used the gentle push of the thrusters to mask their presence and make them look like little more than a piece of debris. She watched for others bits of debris that may impede them and set the computer to silent alarms. The shuttle took a slow rolling pattern as it fell through the debris field in an effort to exit on the opposite side of their enemy.

“What shall I do?” Jo asked softly, her eyes never leaving the screen in front.

“If we get spotted here we’re in a lot of trouble,” Sarah said, hands still making minor corrections. “I don’t know who they were and don’t want to power up the sensors to find out but if we get a hint that they are on to us we need to get out fast. We’re no match for anything. If I say I want you to focus on powering up our shields while I put us on a path out of the debris field where we can hit Warp again.”

“But what about the Hope? There is something here, I know it!” Jo said, eyes glistening in the lowered light.

“We aren’t going to find anything if we are dead.” Sarah’s voice was flat. She had hardened rather than softened over the last mission. The weight of everything was immense and she hadn’t handled it the way should could have. Jo watched out of the corner of her eye with concern. This mission had been their chance to reconnect and yet in a lot of ways it had driven a wedge between them. Sarah no longer opened up to her and confided in her. The burden of command was one thing but this was something different entirely. She had never seen her Wife like this. Away from family and friends, none of it mattered because they had was each other but Jo felt more alone than ever.

“We have to know Sar’” Jo said softly. “We could be hiding from our friends who are looking for us!”

“Don’t be so naïve,” Sarah snapped back. “Our people would broadcast a friendly signal over the entire region if they were looking for us.” Sarah paused, Jo’s logic, while flawed, was pretty unavoidable. Until they knew what they were up against they couldn’t plan for anything. “OK. We’re going to do this. I’m going to poke our head out with all engines ready to fire. There, look,” Sarah pointed at a region just in front of them, a hulking piece of debris from the fallen ship that sat here; her now dormant hull a memory of the battle that had struck off pieces across this sector. “I’m going to power us up and slot us behind there, while I move you fire up the sensors and we will scan the sector.” Sarah paused, her eyes moving from the screen for the first time and locking with Jo’s. “As soon as that hits with the bad news we need to duck through this debris at maximum speed to achieve somewhat of a buffer to get the Warp drive ready to go. You’re going to need to call out debris quickly as I’m going to be controlling this thing manually – she’s small but she is anything but nimble.”

“OK,” Jo said, the nerves pinching across her back, a fear crawling into her. She hated every last ounce of it. Jo knew now the hatred would drive her and she wouldn’t let it win. She never let it win.

Peace’s engines fired with a jolt; the ship righted itself and found its course using the directional thrusters and spinning in place, the main engine came on and the lights in the cabin flickered as a light hum filled the small space. The ship moved forward as it accelerated across the open space, Sarah had put the shuttle in a light lateral spin to align with the debris and the trajectory she had plotted her escape vector; the computer barked responses rapidly, although she controlled everything by her own hand she used vocal signals and automatic systems to relay information through the engines and the collision system. Jo lit up the system with her scanner and watched as three glowing red dots appeared. The system wasn’t confused by these dots but did take a second to confirm its readings. That second – a literal moment in time – held everything in its palm much like the mystics of old; they knew everything and yet would not tell, everything veiled in showmanship and hidden behind riddles and puzzles. The computer held no riddle. The second passed almost as swiftly as it had come and each target across the sector was suddenly labelled. Joanna’s jaw dropped, her eyes widened as her lip quivered slightly; she was speechless.

“What Jo? What is it?” Sarah demanded. She took her eyes from the screen and looked at the screen. Four tiny little letters and yet so much meaning. The screen splashed red in a flash as it indicated they were on intercept vectors with signals that matched Borg Vessels.
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Gabe » Mon Nov 19, 2012 10:26 am

Story Note
The original crew of the Eternity have been installed into the Regenerative pods that blanket the planet of Eden, under the guidance of G.O.R.I.K. 21 souls are now locked in a dream-like reality far removed from the blight of the Delta Quadrant and the war being waged throughout. They are at peace in a construct of their own thoughts, capable of interacting with one another, time pressing seemingly meaningless because, in dream, the mind is infinite.

The only crewman outside this reality, still watching and monitoring the situation from the Intrepid Class starship, Hope, that has long since landed on the planet Eden, is a Lieutenant Edward Mountbatten.

<<Writers Note: Writers may back post their characters up to the current timeline>>
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Gabe » Mon Nov 19, 2012 11:27 am

Rick Barlow

OFF:
Free writing week with absolutely no ties to the story other than the placement of our bodies outside the mind. We are in the mind however, so, feel free to go crazy..., collaborate or craft your own reality. I'm hoping that my reality helps another writer get back into the fold.

ON:
Richard woke to the sounds of cooking and the smell of flavors, a bastion of creativity assaulting his senses as he rose haphazardly to a sitting position, his back resting on the headboard of the king sized mattress. He checked the time, nearly 9:00 in the morning, he had slept in.

"Daddy Daddy!" A cry played as the door to the master bedroom opened abruptly, a little girl, no more than 4 rushing out on short strong legs. She jumped on the bed, staggering a bit before her father helped her the rest of the way.

"Hello Maddie," Richard stated kissing the child on the forehead, "you let me sleep in didn't you?"

"Mommy said to," the little girl stated, her eyes of blue piercing, "she's cooking breakfast. Pancakes. Yum."

"Hmm," Richard stated, his hand tussling through his locks of red hair before he shuffled his legs over the side of the bed. "Guess I need to help then."

"No, I got it," Maddie stated before hopping off the bed herself and running back down the hall, descending the steps towards the living room and kitchen. "Come on Daddy."

Richard took a moment, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, yawning, his dreams still so vividly playing on his mind. He was on a starship, among a crew, lost in the Land of Nod, wandering the desert, scavenging. It seemed so real, yet, so very distant. He shuffled the thoughts aside as he got up from the bed, crossing the room and entering the master bath, switching the light and watching his face flicker to illumination within the reflective surface of the mirror. For a second, he saw himself, haggard, wasted, a face full of beard, hair nearly down to his chin, eyes that saw beyond themselves. Has he crushed his eyelids shut, rubbing at them again, he looked back at the mirror, seeing himself as he knew himself to be. Trimmed hair, well rested, approachable, and at most pleasing. He smirked, washing his face with a splash of warm water before brushing his teeth.
________________________________________

Richard made his way down the stairs, a white shirt and sleeper pants on, his hand casting on the banister, the smooth wood suddenly stopping his motion to the front door. Something familiar pressed on his mind as he slowly ran his hand over the wood, its smooth surface almost that of marble. He must have taken this walk nearly a hundred times, each time like instinct, but this time however, something was different, something of a measure seemed odd. Like the touch of the wood, the familiarity of the smoothness wasn't suppose to be. Again he shrugged it off, continuing down until he was shot with pain in the regard hand, flashing it off the banister and eyeing the splinter that presented itself in it's palm. He winced, seeing it sink deep, finding that his mind fixated on the injury, on the blood the seeped ever so gently red.

"Daddy," said Maddie who was looking at her father with shock and frightening glances. "Are you ok?"

"I'm good sweetheart," Richard stated, pulling the piece of wood out of his hand, "no harm, just a little splinter. I'll have to sand the rail, so don't use it when you go up or down the stairs alright?"

She smiled, nodding, "ok daddy," she stated turning back towards the kitchen, her trailing words calling her mother, telling her what happened to daddy. Richard smiled before his brow furrowed and he, again, looked at the banister. "Weird," he thought before opening the front door and heading to the yard, his bare feet slapping the concrete walkway.

The morning was bright, sunny, the perfect temperature for the coming fall, not to hot and not at all cold. It was nice, the sun warm and inviting as Richard bent down to pick up the newspaper, walking even more forward to check his mail. He waved at his neighbors, noting their routine as they themselves went about their lives. It was the weekend, no work, no worries, just life in its simplistic nature.

<<Tag anyone that wants to be my neighbor ;) >>

He shuffled a bit through the paper and the mail before turning back towards the house, taking motion up the driveway. Again he stopped, his mind fixating on another aspect of his life that seemed foreign today. Within the driveway, near the open side of the garage was his old restored 1955 Chevy Nomad, red painted, sleek edges and reflective surface. Richard had spent nearly 6 months working on the car, building the motor and restoring the vehicle to its original glory with his friends from work, Scott and Marisol, both gear heads with the same affinity for motors. During the build they tried to get Vreenak to get in on it, but the man was always so stoic, wanting to approach things calculated and at a plan. The man was a genius, Richard hadn't a doubt about that, but building with him was like building something with instructions, and Rich was always one to just dive in, get his hands dirty.

Richard must have walked past this car a thousand times, drove it even that much more a many of times, yet today, it seemed different somehow. He walked closer, hand pressed to the cool metal that he had molded himself, taken time to curve it and working on that curve until it was just right. Now, it seemed all wrong, and again he could hear himself say this in his mind while images so foreign to him played upon that it seemed to frighten him. His hand left the surface of the car, and, for the third time, he shuffled the feeling to the back of his mind, shrugging it off and entering his house.

What they got in the mail had been junk, little bits of advertisement, one from the salesman that Richard bought the scrap Nomad from in the first place; a Jetan Remsen, an odd sort of fellow, but gave a great deal on the motor and frame. But you know how salesmen are, once you buy one thing, they won't let you walk away without harping on you to buy more. Richard smirked at the image of the man, letting the sale ad dropped with the rest of the mail before shuffling the newspaper under his arm and heading towards the kitchen.

"Good morning my lovely ladies," he called as he maneuvered his way around, grabbing a cup of coffee and joining his daughter at the table who had already been knee deep in pancakes. "Whats the shape today," he asked peering over her plate?

"Spaceships Daddy," Maddie replied, cutting the rocket ship along the front so that the bulbous peak of the rocket was now merely a wedge with two feet sticking out near the aft side. Richard looked at what was left, seeing something in the mess of syrup and batter that had him staring at the shape. Familiarity, a wisp of a memory flooding his mind, but, it was fleeting as Maddie took the edge of her fork and cut the rest of the ship in half. He returned to the now, smiling at his daughter before sipping his coffee.

Richard sat momentarily, looking through the paper, his eyes casting over many headlines before finding one that was over the pharmaceutical company, GORIK Industries. He didn't understand why the article caught his attention, it just did, but his reading was interrupted by his wife, bringing over a plate of eggs and two slices of bacon before taking a seat between himself and their daughter. "Mia," Richard stated, the folds of the paper moving down so that he could look upon his wife, "did I ever tell you that your the best?"

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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby Sonja Kinnunen » Mon Nov 19, 2012 11:40 pm

Commander Talla Vreenak
Theoretical and Accelerated Projects
Where No One Has Gone Before

The quiet hum of air processors pumping out filtered, recycled air with just a touch of moisture and the pulse of the power core surging throughout the station was the only sound filling the large observation and control deck. A lone figure occupied the room. His forehead rested against his right arm pressed to the transparent aluminum separating him from the vast expanse of space beyond. What could be seen from the station was a sight like none other; and not one any man would find in such a perfect state of chaos in nature. A moment both frozen in time, but living. The way the core of the planet surged and ebbed against the black curtain of the void between the many fissures and hundred-mile wide cracks of the planet's crust. It should have expired long ago, with its crust blown free and its core fizzling into nothing as it scattered and cooled with time; but there it sat with nay a piece flung further away, nor pulled back in toward the core. Frozen, but still living.

Were there people down there, he wondered? Could they too be living? Were there cities with people going about their daily lives as if their broken world was perfectly normal? Or were they locked in time like the planet, frozen in the instant of death or a second before as they barely come to terms with what is happening?

"Daddy," a little girl's shill cry seemed to permeate the room.

The Romulan drew drew in a deep breath and pushed the thought... or memory... or hope aside. A distraction. Nothing more. Idle thoughts.

"Ael’voh," a deeper, yet still feminine voice followed.

It caused the figure to stir from his motionless state as if he too had been frozen in time witnessing the destruction of the planet below. Again he shut down that thing whatever it was and turned from the cataclysmic display. There was work to be done so long as he was trapped here.

As he turned to the main control board, Vreenak reached up to massage his temple as he examined the readouts. Was that also a memory? A physical symptom manifested? Or some construct of the environment because of what was happening? His fingers began dancing atop the smooth panel entering commands and bringing up new windows. There were a host of questions, but he didn't have time. He couldn't be sure if it was the nature of this place or the result of what brought him here, but he felt like time was far shorter than it might seem.

"Computer, transfer power to the array," Talla Rh'iov "Ael’voh" Vreenak (or Commander Ael'voh Talla Vreenak in Human terms) commanded as he stepped aside to the large display of the intricate schematics of the array attached to this space station. It had taken some time to fashion such a refined instrument and properly calibrate it. Time he didn't recall spending, but then he supposed that was a result of this environment as well -- time was not just relative, but fluid. As the calculations poured in confirming the array was aligned with the spatial anomaly at the end of the solar system, Vreenak went still and mentally verified everything the computer had. No doubt the computer in this case was his own brain and in order for this to be truly effective he needed it to be real and not just a construct that appeared real.

"Has it ever occurred to you, Rh'iov Vreenak, that you should take advantage of this opportunity for what it is?"

Vreenak turned his head aside and fixed the female Romulan with his dark eyes. There was no mirth on his lips as he'd recognized the voice of the woman it appeared to be, and even that was enough. A Tal Shiar overseer of sorts. He'd been involved in a number of highly classified projects for the Star Empire and for the Tal Shiar's private fleet and had the misfortune of being under this woman's command in certain cases. A poor choice for this place to pick, but it had to be constrained by his own memories and what better to insert itself into his 'dream' than her.

"The rest aren't having the same trouble you are. Why do you need to be different? You have a chance to be with them again."

He turned his head back to the display before crossing over to the control board again. "Computer, initialize array. Engage as soon as it is ready." Distractions. All of them. Hurdles. Challenges. Blockades. Things to be surmounted and overcome.

The Tal Shiar woman stopped on the other side of the console and simply observed the man as he continued to work for a moment. "No response? Buried in work? You were 'busy' when it happened, weren't you? Several sectors away as I recall. Wasn't even aware of the danger until it was too late. Instead of correcting that mistake, you squander this chance on what project, Rh'iov Vreenak?"

"I intend to utilize this opportunity to gain access to your systems," Vreenak responded coolly as he looked up at the 'woman' before him. "If I had any desire to fantasize about the past I would do so alone, in my quarters, and not while strapped into your device."

"And you think I'm part of 'it' and not part of you?" A smirk tugged at her lips.

"In either case you are an impediment to my duty," he shot back. Before either of them could continue, however, he heard that sweet voice call out "Ael’voh" once more before he collapsed to one knee and clenched his teeth. His breathing became shallow and quick as he fought to get to his feet again.

The Tal Shiar woman no longer looked amused, but returned to observing the man in his struggle. "You know what this is."

As he got both feet under him again, Vreenak lanced an eye through the construct. "I am aware."

"It was amazing when you survived the process initially. Forty percent chance, wasn't it? With another fifty-five percent chance of adverse affects afterward. And to think you came in to contact with a similar project the Humans had put together and become infected by it." The Tal Shiar agent leaned forward with both hands on the console as she looked into his eyes. "You never did tell them."

A loud crack sounded when Vreenak's right hand slammed down on the console. "It does not concern them." With a shove, Vreenak stepped back to the array display as it came online to observe it make contact with the conduit that made all of this possible.

"The Empire no longer has secrets, Rh'iov. You no longer need to protect them."

"The Empire will be remade for the Romulan people. I will not betray it by divulging critical information on projects--"

"That no longer exist, were abandoned, or will be eventually discovered as every facility is inventoried by the new government," she interjected as she crossed her arms. "And that one project might save their lives."

Vreenak turned to look over his shoulder at the bothersome voice. "And kill just as many of them." The process had never been perfected. Even if it had been the equipment on board the Hope was laughable when it came to such delicate, intricate, and advanced design. He might as well build a starship out of a tricorder.

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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Sail » Wed Nov 21, 2012 1:53 pm

Marisol Hocevar

OFF: Marisol has given me several different approaches here. As a fresh one just came to mind, I've decided that her "Regeneration" experience will be very much like changing channels...

ON:

She couldn't understand why, with all of the preparations she had to make, they were forcing her onto an away team. Marisol had made her case, pleading to the stone faced Vreenak, to complete the funeral arrangements. "We must get ready!" she exclaimed as two sets of hands maneuvered her onto the transport pad. "Has Rick figured out a eulogy? I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT TO COOK!" The world shimmered blue to white, before the sensation of ants crawling her entire body, faded into the shadows and wicked hues of a Borg ante chamber. "What are we doing here?" Marisol demanded. "This is Borg! No.....NO....LET ME GO!!" To each side, she heard the servo driven artifice of human appendage, now reconstructed. The hands which held her bore either colorless, mottled flesh, or were encased in gloves of black from which the alien technology projected itself. "He's given us.......he's given us......TO THEM? NO!" Marisol screamed, struggling in their overpowering grip. The two which held her seemed to regard her as a specimin, lifeless eyes behind glowing occular implants recording her desperation for the hive mind to analyze.

Horror greeted her in the sight of the regeneration alcoves. There, lined in neat precision, were the members of Hope's crew. Washington, Bettini, Saffron, all joined into alcoves, eyes closed, hands resting upon armrests as above them, electrical discharge arced a malevolent green. Awaiting her arrival stood Rick Barlow, with two Borg drones in attendance. "Rick!" Marisol cried out, "Don't let them.....DON'T LET THEM!!!" She screamed, terror and despair welling at recognition of the two drones as they stepped forward to take her into hand. "Scott? No, SCOTT!" Scott Orlan, to her eyes now fully assimilated, along with the Englishman, Mountbatten, took her writhing body firmly into hand. The shrieking Marisol was summarily forced into the regeneration alcove. There, both Borg, one an old friend, the other a newcomer, held her fast as the assimilation probes entered her flesh. Pain now joined fear as she felt each violation. Marisol's strength began to fade; her ability to control her actions waned as Rick Barlow stepped forward.

"Just try to relax, Marisol," he smiled. A hand stroked her forehead.

"You BASTARD!" she wailed. "Bastardo!" In a final act of defiance, Marisol pursed her lips, spitting into the traitorous face.

He grinned, an evil cast coming to his eyes, as suddenly, technology erupted a hideous blossom from the skin of his left cheek. "Just go with it, babe," the Barlow-thing smirked. "Resistance," it chuckled, "is futile..."

A thousand voices, speaking in perfect syncopation one thought, one unifying principle. A veil seemed to descend upon her, cloaking Marisol in darkness which became warm, comforting. The multitudes spoke, voices mulling in the afterthought, unclear of intent or meaning. She found herself fighting to comprehend as the whisper faded to nothingness, then slowly rebuilt. The remarkable difference, voices now coming not necessarily through the auditory canal or the mind, but from her entire being. They spoke, they sang, a chorus both artificially voiced yet conveying genuine joy. One word, sung in exultation, again and again..

Madre..

"Mi hijos," Marisol gasped at the shock of reunion. So strong was the bond between them, that for a moment, she neglected the controls of her shuttle. The planetoid, a lifeless rock at the edge of the Ildius system, rose at an alarming rate to fill the forward view pane. Hastily, Marisol corrrected, switching the maneuvering thrusters as a set of landing coordinates was displayed. "I've missed you so," she said, eyes glistening. Here, over three years ago, a severely damaged USS Eternity had held orbit, awaiting the fleet as the crew fought their most desperate battle, to curtail the invasion of trillions of nanites. The battle had become much more personal for Marisol, whose body had been invaded by the tiny machines. While eradication had eventually been won by force, those who'd occupied her were only driven off by negotiation of the most brutal form. This action, viewed as a liberation by then LtCdr Colin Byrne and her shipmates, had always felt more an evisceration to the childless Marisol. They'd come to know her, sharing her memories, learning, actually feeling her emotions as an uncommon bond formed. Over three years ago, those nanites had been marooned here. Now, as she eased the shuttle onto a well marked landing platform, Marisol understood that her children had been fruitful.

We have prepared a place for you.

Deep within the planet, the nanites had built a sanctuary of light and warmth. Marisol stepped from her shuttle. She could sense the love, long unanswered and now overflowing, as she undid the helmet to her pressure suit. It landed upon the smooth tile, and was soon devoured by the teaming occupants of this world. She strode into the chamber, discarding bits of the pressure suit as they fell away. The chamber was large, circular in shape, glowing at it's top as if bathed in afternoon sunlight. Continuing to disrobe as she came, Marisol stepped forward. Each garment faded into the tile, leaving her as she moved onto a low dais in the chamber's center. Her body was bathed in light and warmth as the dais began to rise. Bare feet seemed to take a coating as millions of the tiny nanites began to move upon her flesh. The joining had begun. Marisol lifted her arms in both triumph and supplication.

Madre, the uncountable multitudes sang. You will be with us now.

"Mi hijos," Marisol cried for joy. "I will."
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Sail » Thu Nov 22, 2012 1:44 pm

Marisol Hocevar

OFF: Switching channels

Saturday. She'd gotten up at her usual 6:00AM. There was no need of an alarm. The slight gurgling of the "Mr. Coffee" would open her eyes. A flex of claws into the flesh of her back would announce that during the night, Pip had chosen to join her. The morning admonishment of "you're a really bad dog, you know that?", delivered with a scratch behind the ears, had become the customary preamble for their daily run to the park. This routine, followed five days a week with showering and preparing for work, was modified for Saturday only. On this day, she would return from their exertions with beads of sweat glistening on her brow. After fresh food and water had gone down for the perpetually grateful Pip, the diminutive woman would strip off the sweatshirt, shoes, and socks. She'd walk barefooted across the terrazzo floor into the kitchen, where a bagel, cream cheese, and fruit would soon be assembled onto a tray. During the warm months, the patio would be her objective.

This morning was cool, with the autumn chill relinquishing it's grip only after the sun rose to claim a waning dominance. The sleeveless undershirt did little to protect the chilled flesh beneath as Marisol relocated her chair into a patch of morning sunlight. After skimming the pool for leaves from the neighbors' oak, she surveyed her backyard. Satisfied for the moment, Marisol took a seat. Coffee and food came in fits and starts. Eventually, the stenographer's pad came out. Removing the Bic pen from it's place in the coiled wire binding, Marisol set to work, sketching out her list of chores for the day. There was the yard to mow, first and foremost. Though the rich Bermuda grass had slowed it's voracity at the seasonal change, she insisted upon keeping it properly trimmed. The driveway had developed a hairline crack; Marisol had observed it's progress for the past month, and came to realize that replacement may soon be a reality, but today, simple etching and patching with cement would fill the bill. There would also be garage time. The 1965 Ford F-100 she'd carefully restored was due for a carburetor rebuild. The kit had finally arrived yesterday, at work. She'd have to finish that job tonight, if she was to make it to church in the morning. Maybe Rick and Mia would understand if she couldn't come...

Since the divorce, Marisol had become a creature of her habits, moving through life with calendars and clocks to rudder her course. During the initial months following the discovery of Luis' longterm infidelities, life had become a drift. At the urging of her attorney, she hired an accountant, a CPA named Sorveck. Though underspoken and fastidious in his ways, the man had persuaded her that changes to her financial and personal life were necessary and logical, for the long term. He managed her portion of the settlement, carefully investing, sometimes winning, sometimes losing. Generally, she watched dispassionately as her accounts grew by his attentions. CPA Sorveck's recommendation to sell the large marital home and replace it with something smaller had only been too happily agreed to by Rick and Mia. It seemed as if no time had passed before she found herself here, in the tidy three bedroom, two bath ranch house on the same street as the Barlows. The place needed work. Sensing an opportunity to fill her deepening void with readily obvious progress, Marisol took to the flaws in her home with a grim purpose. Among her new neighbors, delight over the local eyesore's transformation into a showplace soon turned to curiosity when the two year old Jaguar XKE vanished. Eyebrows raised at her choice of the shuddering, rust eaten old Ford pickup. That had been a year ago.

Now, Marisol viewed the list for the day, feeling the restless disquiet which always set her to work on Saturdays. "It's nine," Marisol thought. "Too early to fire up the Lawn Boy. Maybe.....mulch. I do need to mulch the flowerbeds." Soon, the breakfast tray and dishes were all put away in the gleaming kitchen. Pip watched from the living room window, his tail waving absently, as Marisol shouldered a bag of pine mulch down the driveway toward a small flowerbed near the curb. She allowed the heavy bag to fall to the driveway, before stretching the muscles of her shoulders and back. A hand rose to massage the back of her neck. She turned her head, left, than right, as fingers worked beneath the hair she'd tied back.

Down the street, she saw Rick. He'd wandered from his house, apparently after sleeping in, to collect the morning paper. He lifted a hand in greeting.

Marisol smiled, and waved in return, before squatting to tear open the bag. The smell of pine was rich as it came open. She went into it with both hands, grabbing up the mulch, scattering it's reddish brown over the decayed gray of last year's remnants. The flowers here were seasonals, the current change in weather having reduced them to stalks that would soon die, only to burst forth again in the spring. She spread the mulch, feeling the rough wood, and the lingering sap, as she pondered excuses for not putting in an appearance at the Barlow family's barbecue tonight. "It's just wrong," she chided herself. "Rick and Mia have been so good to you.." And they had. When she moved in, they threw a welcome party to introduce her to her new neighbors. Now, she could at least add names to the obligatory "Hi, how are you?" greetings that were exchanged in the street. But no amount of social grace could mask the fact that the single woman of Mexican descent had become the neighborhood oddity. Except for Mia, the other women all eyed her with a subtle mistrust. The men, all playing at their roles, would gravitate toward the grill, the garage, or the TV to watch what Americans called "football." They were unfailingly polite, even cordial, but she didn't need to be psychic to catch the appraising look, the slight change in group dynamic if she engaged one of them in conversation.

This was American suburbia, all in neat, tidy little parcels of land. Each contained two adults, one of each gender, their progeny, and the appropriate domestic animal. Minivans dotted the driveways, except for Saturdays, when all were utilized to haul the kids off to their soccer games. Charcoal would smoke from a dozen back yards tonight, and come Monday, garbage cans would line the curb. All very neat, tidy, and comfortable. When they were last in town, Sarah and Jo had stayed the night in her guest room. After an evening fueled by a little too much wine, Sarah had amused them all by breaking into an old song she'd heard about suburban life. "Little boxes, on the hillside," Marisol smiled at the memory.

Sarah and Jo.....the two women bore an even more potent social stigma than Marisol. Yet, they moved in this world, finding their place in it. They had each other. At the present, she had no prospects. Oddly, as an amputated limb still provided phantom pain, the equation never added up for Marisol. Since Luis, there'd been no one. With the "big four-oh" staring at her from the calendar, the quiet judgments of her neighbors and her own biological clock still presented a challenge she felt wholly unequipped to meet. The limb was hacked off; eventually, the tingling ghost pain would fade. She just had to keep herself busy.

<Tag Barlows or other neighbors>
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Sail » Fri Nov 23, 2012 1:17 pm

Marisol Hocevar


OFF: Switching channels again


The morning sun caressed her shoulders, as the shifting breeze teased at her hair. The woman smiled with pleasure, the sensations of home and her morning rites all coming to pass in easy succession. Marisol lifted the steaming cup from the china saucer she'd perched upon the rail. The coffee was delicious, rich and aromatic as it made it's welcome course across her lips. She sipped at it, leaning against the rail, as waves crashed onto the beach below. They'd been at it until late last night. There was still much to be done, but she was confident. Even the weather gods seemed to be smiling upon her today. "Another perfect day in Campeche," Marisol smiled to herself, before raising the cup once more.

The door moved behind her, and footsteps crossed the second floor deck. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Maya," the diminutive woman turned, a warm smile offered. "Oh, good. You found the coffee. How'd you sleep?"

"Like the dead," the Kenyan woman nodded as she came to the rail. "I threw my window open last night. It was wonderful."

"Good," The older woman answered. "I was afraid that we'd worked you to exhaustion."

"I don't think it was the work," Maya Okimbo said with a mischevous grin, "but the sangria? That could be another story."

"Annalise knows her concoctions," Marisol chuckled. "She was really pleased that we emptied out both pitchers."

"I really liked all of your sisters in law," Maya said before sipping at her coffee. "They're all so funny. Honestly, all of you made me feel at home, though I am still sorry for showing up unannounced the night before your big keen....keen-say.."

"Quinceañera," Marisol answered her friend's troubled pronunciation. "In our culture, when a girl has her fifteenth birthday, we celebrate her transition from childhood into young womanhood. First, we take her to the Iglesia, our church, for a blessing by the priest. Then, back here for the full on fiesta. And as far as we're concerned," Marisol added with a hand laid upon Maya's shoulder, "you couldn't have shown up at a better time."

"Thank you," Okimbo smiled warmly. "I have something to wear. I brought a gift, but originally it was meant for you." At a carefree wave from Marisol, she continued. "A friend of mine has become quite the cultural artist. He manufactures traditional tribal necklaces. I had chosen one which bespoke of longterm bonds of friendship between two tribes."

"That's perfect," Marisol grinned. "The birthday girl will love it, and her sisters and cousins will be insanely jealous. Don't be surprised if you come away with lots of other Quinceañera invites." At this, they shared a laugh, followed by a companionable silence as both sipped at their coffee.

Eventually, Maya spoke. "Is this like it was for yours?"

"In some ways," Marisol said as her eyes traveled the blue rim of the horizon. "There was a lot less money, then, but the women still managed to pull something off. They did just as we did last night, rolling tamales and wrapping them in corn husks to steam. Mi madre...my mother," she corrected herself, "had seen the writing on the wall by the time I turned fifteen."

"I don't understand," Maya offered.

"I was the tomboy's tomboy," Marisol replied with a sidelong glance. "From about age five, I was a real nuisance at my father's shuttle and small ship repair company. He finally gave up and started teaching me the ropes. When I wasn't getting filthy inside the guts of some rusty old shuttle, I was on the football field, playing in my school's girls' team. But," she added with a slightly wicked smile, "it was the pick up games against the boys that I liked the best. They showed no mercy to girls, especially the little ones, like me. By the time I was fifteen, they'd nicknamed me "la Diabla Poquita." At Maya's nonplussed expression, Marisol chuckled. "The Little She-Devil" is a close enough translation. I had a good right foot, Maya. Anyway, my mother hated all of this. We started fighting when I was about thirteen, and, well, to be honest, I don't think we've really stopped."

"I'm sorry," Maya said. "From the sound of it, your sisters in law aren't having it much easier."

"Maybe not." Marisol sipped at her coffee. "But, they're all playing at being the good and dutiful wives my mother expected me to be. They're all rearing children, and moving their families ahead. In the eyes of my mom, a divorced woman in her middle forties is a complete failure. I'm never changing that for her."

"That's very sad," Maya Okimbo said reflectively. "Is that why you opted for a possible one way trip to the Delta Quadrant?"

"Is this my friend Maya, or Lt. Commander Okimbo asking?" Marisol had set the cup down, and turned to face her.

"Can it be both?"

"To my friend," Marisol said carefully, "I'd say that there's a lot of truth in my desiring longterm duty assignments. But to the First Officer of USS Repulse, I'd say "you know that I'm not allowed to talk about that. So why do you ask?"

"That's fair," Okimbo shrugged. "Would you ever think about going back?"

"What are you talking about?" Marisol now regarded the Kenyan warily.

"You're aware that Repulse is back at U.P. for a major refit."

"Sure," Marisol nodded. "She's due at McKinley in two months for weapons and systems upgrades. I'm assigned as the managing engineer."

"Correct," Maya said. "Quite alot of work going into such an old hull, don't you think?"

Marisol hesitated. The pat reply "they don't pay me to think" would come off as a decidedly poor choice of words, given the level and direction of this conversation. "So, what are we talking about, Maya?"

"We're going back," Okimbo stated simply. "Repulse is being suited up for the mission."

"What? Who the hell dreamed that one up?"

"The admiralty, with a little help from the science division, and the guiding hand of Andrea Morgan."

Marisol shook her head. "Jeez, Maya, even without the Borg, it's like the wild west. The Kazon, the Hirogen, everybody with a weapon wants a piece of us. And I don't know what your clearance is like, but we haven't exactly put our best foot forward, either."

"That's why I'm here," Maya said. "We have your logs, both for Eternity and Hope. Our mission is threefold. First, we're to determine the veracity and map the remnant gates of the Borg Transwarp network. Second, we have a taste of the political and cultural dynamic. It's in the Federation's best interests to mend fences and form alliances. And third," Maya continued, her eyes touching directly into Marisol's, "we intend to seek out and rescue any survivors."

Marisol exhaled; the strength seemed to drain from her as she leaned against the railing. "There aren't any."

"A detailed study of Hope's log indicated that there might be," Maya said. "We also think that there could be others. Sorveck, and Hmra Etal. There is no evidence to suggest either of them are KIA."

"How do I say this?" Marisol responded. "If you've read the logs, what part of "we were being hunted" don't you understand? We had a bad enough time together. One of us, all alone...Maya, the Borg weren't assimilating us; they were eradicating..."

"I know," Okimbo nodded. "But, given recent findings, we think there are survivors." After an uncomfortable silence, Maya continued. "Andrea thinks he's still alive, you know."

"Don't you remember?" Marisol asked. "He was lost in a hurricane. You saw his boat on the bottom...."

"So were Sarah and Jo," Maya said directly. "Yet, both are returned. Capt. Morgan is visiting them today."

"He's dead," Marisol said. "Tell Andrea she's not gonna find him."

"She thinks differently."

"She would, wouldn't she?" Marisol gazed into Maya's eyes. "You know her pretty well now. I don't need to go into detail, do I?"

"I know that Andrea's emotions are strong," Maya replied. "I also believe in the importance of the mission. Marisol, you've been there. Aside from your engineering expertise, you have insights that we need..."

"Rick said "no," didn't he?," Marisol interrupted.

"We didn't ask. He and Amelia have three children."

"Vreenak?"

"Politics," Maya smiled. "Vreenak resigned his commission to join the Romulan Separatist Movement. They're lobbying to create a new homeworld."

"Okay, I'll bite," Marisol surrendered. "Who's signed on?"

"Anam Farooqi, and Janelle James. I'm meeting Edward Mountbatten in a few days. Asri Nazir told me that she'd go if you were coming."

"Asri," Marisol smiled. "How about Scott Orlan?"

"He's off the grid," Maya said. "Marisol, you don't have to answer me now. For that matter, you've got at least three months before we cast off. Andrea would love to see you again, and talk about this further. Would you be open to what she has to say?"

"Back to Delta..." Marisol said absently. "All we ever found there was blood and pain. I don't know, Maya......I just don't know."
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby Sonja Kinnunen » Fri Nov 23, 2012 11:03 pm

Commander Talla Vreenak
Theoretical and Accelerated Projects
Where No One Has Gone Before

"G.O.R.I.K. Did the Collective name it that, or did it come up with that delusion on its own?" The Tal Shiar agent frowned as she observed the data flashing over the screens in the command center. What kind of name was 'GORIK' anyway? Especially for an artificial intelligence. And to model itself after a Vulcan; though she conceded its personality matched the soullessness of their 'cousins.'

Vreenak didn't even look back at the figment of what must have been his imagination. It was there to distract and make snide comments, constantly questioning everything and contributing nothing in turn. His attention had to be on the connection he'd made to GORIK's databanks while it was still operational and he was still inside to process the data with a thought rather than clumsily tapping it to a console. Hard to say what he was looking for; GORIK wasn't exactly in touch with the Collective to have its wide array of information to draw on -- otherwise it would be trying to kill them right now and not 'regenerate' them -- but there had to be something. He believed it so it gave him reason to focus all his effort into uncovering that information.

"Afraid where your thoughts would wander if it weren't for work, Commander? Do you ever imagine [i]them even when you're alone in your bed at night? Or are they a distraction too?"[/i]

Part of Vreenak imagined snapping a right hook across that smug face; for an instant it happened, but in the next thought the room was back to the way it had been with the Tal Shiar agent standing untouched where he'd unfortunately left her. Here there were no idle thoughts. Everything happened as you thought it, which is why Vreenak had to remain absolutely focused on the task at hand or it'd all begin to unravel around him.

He paused one of the many screens flashing information and brought up additional details on the energy alcoves of the Borg -- one piece of information GORIK had to be intimately familiar with having been charged with 'regenerating' the crew. As he recalled the last Federation vessel in this region of space had a Borg crew member at one point. Surely they had to integrate alcoves into their ship's power; adapting it so it was compatible.

"Suddenly you're interested in their well being? What happened to uncovering hidden secrets? Validating GORIK even knew where this 'Man in Black' is or why GORIK seems intent on helping us and not handing us over to the Collective. It has to know everything at this point."

So far he hadn't managed to find anything to call GORIK's information or intentions into question, despite not trusting the machine to have their well-being at heart. "If what it said is true, we will need a way to prevent a relapse until this condition can be alleviated entirely."

"And you think Barlow's going to take the time to beam one of these alcoves up and plug it in?"

Difficult to say, he thought, but if chasing after this Man in Black was so important he'd have to suffice with the knowledge in building an alcove. With what resources was a very good question, but it was better than coming away completely empty handed. One of those rare moments of silence fell then, much to the Romulan's delight though he barely noticed it too busy scanning page after page of specifications. This one ran unusually long, however, almost enough for Vreenak to look back to see what had changed, but that urge become superfluous soon enough.

A loud bang reverberated throughout the station followed by the floor shaking violently, the lights flickering rapidly, and alarms filling the pregnant silence. Vreenak grunted as he was slammed sideways into a console and then pulled back the way he'd come into another console from the rocking.

"Shields at thirty percent," the number sounding oddly familiar, "and weapons are offline."

Vreenak pushed himself up straight and went immediately back to the console nearing the end of the documentation.

Seconds later the room quaked again with several console exploding outward showering the now dimly lit room with fireworks. Talla was thrown into a console again forcing him to bite back a sharp cry of pain. Fortunately this wasn't real or he might have broken a few ribs by now. His dark eyes lifted and caught sight of a report he hadn't expected, but before he got more than an initial glance the room shook a third time and the console went dead.

"Hull breeches all levels, all sections. Shields are gone," the Tal Shiar agent shouted as if she had anything to fear by dying.

Thunderous was the voice that filled the station, and oppressive were the vessel hanging out in the black of space out the viewports, "RESISTANCE IS FUTILE."

Again, he dropped back to the last open console and pulled out the last page before the room went white.

Either by the time his vision had cleared or by the time his mind pieced together the fabrication again, Vreenak found himself sailing through space without a suit and away from the burning wreckage of the communication array. There was no exposure, or no oxygen deprivation, because ultimately none of it was real, he knew. Seemed his time had run out. Nothing left now but to see if he woke up with the others, or if the attack was more literal than he knew.

"Ael’voh."

His eyelids fell at the sound of his lover's voice. "I'm sorry."
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Sail » Sat Nov 24, 2012 2:48 pm

Marisol Hocevar

OFF: One final flip of the channel, back to a Season One Episode, "The Metar Colony." Two color coded passages are lifted directly from a conversation Marisol had with a rather "impaired" Colin Byrne.

ON:

Marisol stood, silent and unmoving, in the regeneration alcove. Her hands lay upon the angled armrests. The woman's eyes were closed, her expression one of the neutrality of dreamless sleep. Yet, the mind within continued it's own voyages of fantasy, cognition, and memory. After the sunny morning of a future still some years hence, Marisol next found herself in the dark, wavves washing at her ankles and calves as she moved through the tide. A myriad of stars glowed brilliant in the moonless night. This was not home, but another place she remembered quite well. Curacao. With the ship's doctor playing host, Marisol had been pressed into emergency kitchen duty. She'd soon drafted both Colin and Maya as helpers in a frantic effort to plate supper for all of Eternity's officers. Once the dinner had successfully passed, Colin, assisted by Yeoman Jennifer Bree, bestowed the commendations of the Klingon Empire upon them all. The "Order of Koloth," had preceded the final Klingon ritual, toasts to captain, crew, and those fallen, in the traditionally potent Blood Wine.

Feeling decidely light headed, Marisol had slipped off to her room to change. Now, in shorts and a comfortable top, she moved along the shoreline. The night was moonless, casting the stars in their heavenly canopy to a greater beauty. She moved at her ease, a solitary figure in the warm night air. It took the strumming of a guitar, and a single voice, raised in song, to distract her from her leisurely pursuits. Drawing up the beach to the gazebo, Marisol soon recognized the silhouette of Colin in the flickering glow, cross legged upon a bench with the guitar. As she took the steps, his singing stopped.

“Wow, Colin, that was really nice. Mind if I join you?” Marisol asked as she stepped into the light of the oil lamps.

“Please,” he smiled, embarrassed at having been overheard singing. “I didn’t mean for all of my squalling to lure you out.”

“You’ve got a good voice,” she observed. “You didn’t crack on the high notes at all. I’ve never heard you sing before.”

“Generally, it only happens if I’m drunk, or in the shower,” he chuckled.

“Then I’m getting you drunk more often,” Marisol replied as she stretched out on the padded bench opposite him.

“Not a good idea, Marisol,” Colin grinned. “When I’m drunk, every man is my brother, and every woman is an object of my affections.”

“Every woman?” she asked playfully.

“Assistant engineers are a particular favourite,” he laughed as he strummed the guitar.

“Hmm,” Marisol nodded. “Guess I should warn Hmra.”

“I’ve rather wondered if she purrs.”

“Oh! Stop! Colin, that’s so wrong!” Marisol laughed, throwing up a hand in mock protest. “Were you raised by wolves?”

“You’ve met my mother, then,” he continued, an amused grin upon his face.

“You should really show this side of yourself to the crew,” she offered. “Right now, they’re all wondering how you get those steel rods sewn into the back of your uniform.”

“I’ll never tell,” Colin smiled as he turned his gaze down upon the guitar.


She knew this, understood it to be a memory of times past. In that moment, Marisol's consciousness began to stir with the realities of her situation. Apparently, the regeneration cycle was drawing to a close, permitting her this last flight of fancy. Colin strummed the guitar, humming softly as he attempted the same passage three times. Marisol watched him. His eyes were cast downward, mindful of hands which played gently upon the aged instrument. Here was the friend she loved.

"You know," Marisol said, "when I think about it, this was the last really perfect night."

"Was it?" Colin had stopped playing. Now, he folded his arms atop the guitar as he regarded her. "What makes you think that?"

"We were free," she said. "Maybe it was the bloodwine, or just the stars aligning, but that night....this..night, right now," Marisol gestured, "this was all that we were. I don't think I'm making any sense.."

"More than you'll know," Colin nodded.

"I mean, this time," she continued the struggle, "you and I were totally free. No ranks, no ships, none of all that happened to us afterward.."

"Quite a lot, actually," Colin answered with a shrug.

"Especially now," Marisol said. "Colin, I saw what it did to you in the end..the place you were in...it was horrible."

"No matter," he said as his fingers once again touched the strings. "That's all done with now. You are aware that my words now are sprung from your own thoughts?"

"Yes," Marisol lowered her gaze. "Janelle would probably tell me that this is my subconscious mind seeking closure."

"And that's wise counsel," Colin tilted his head to meet her eyes.

"So I'm trying to say "goodbye?"

"Perhaps," Colin offered a gentle smile. "Or, perhaps, this time we share becomes the foremost of your memories of me." He turned his head, eyes covering the scene, before returning his gaze to Marisol once more. "Remember me here, above all else, and perhaps I shall live on.....right here."

"I don't know," Marisol shook her head. "There's a lot of Catholic dogma for me to get around on that one."

"Not so much," Colin offered a chuckle. "I've heard it said that the existence of a "heaven," or a "hell," for that matter, may well lie within the memories of those with whom we traveled in this life. Granted, that Dark Persona who took me has condemned me to a well deserved hell in the memories of some," he said, as the strummings took a more somber tone. "Yourself included. But If this," Colin stopped playing to gesture toward their surroundings, "is what comes to mind when you remember me, then I rather believe the word "heaven" to apply, don't you?"

Tears glistened in her eyes. "I miss you, Colin."

"Don't," Byrne smiled. "Instead, know that you've given me all of this. Marisol, the one constant I knew in my life was the power of your friendship. I loved you for it then, and now. But," he said with a slightly crooked smile, "it occurs to me that conversations with ghosts concerning current events may be a signal of your returning cognizance. Most likely, your regeneration cycle is about to end. It would be a pity if you didn't play this memory out by singing, don't you think?" He gazed upon her, eyes filled with kindness as Marisol collected herself. In a moment, her mind had eased it's emotional torrent, and for one last time, allowed that perfect night to wash over her.

"So tell me, can you play any music from my part of the world?"

"Depends," he offered a wry smile. "Can you sing?"

A little," she shrugged.

"Well, then," Colin said, "do you know "La Culpable?"

"Do you?" she asked, floored. "That's a favorite of mine!"

"I can strum my way through it." Colin tuned the guitar as he spoke, finding the range he needed to reproduce the chords he'd need. "Ready?"

She nodded.

He began, strumming the quick pacing of the traditional song. A moment later, Marisol joined in, her voice soaring above the Colin's rapidfire guitar work.

"Soy como el armadillo,
como un avión, como un ratón

No quiero ser la culpable
de dañar tu corazón
no es por ser mala persona
ni por mala vibración
no quiero sentar cabeza con un varón,
con un varón"


Musical credit: "La Culpable" by Aterciopelados

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3jNXeYoe8U
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Gabe » Mon Nov 26, 2012 4:03 pm

Story Note
The last thrum of energy expels from the planet Eden. G.O.R.I.K., the once centralized operative structure that held the reality of the former Collective's consciousness breaths its last breath as the energy it uses to regenerate the infected crew of the Eternity wains to its conclusive darkness.

Regenerative Cycle Complete

At those three words spoken by the single program, the world of Eden crumbles, the last reserves of power dried out in its final initiation, its moment of pure purpose passing as G.O.R.I.K. and the planet die, leaving behind the waste and discard of technology. In its death so too does the last of the former Borg Collective, its consciousness, it's history, the very life that it created and breathed..., gone forever....,

..., and never to be as it was again.

Writer Note*
Writers may write their characters up to the current time table.
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Gabe » Mon Nov 26, 2012 4:53 pm

Rick Barlow

The air hung cool in the twilight of the night sky and a smile flashed upon Richard's face as he flipped the fourth veggie burger on the paper plate. He sipped his beer from the red Solo cup and passed in conversation with the multitude of neighbors that had come. The event had drawn a crowd, Mia in her dress, little Madelynn with hers, each taking cue in enjoying the joy of the life they had come to know for the past 6 years.

Rick had never been this happy.

"So I said, why convert the energy enrichment compensator when you could just remodel the back in intake...,"

"Marisol," Richard stated after looking at his daughter with a smile, her smile returning brightening his world even that much more before he turned to the dark haired diminutive woman, "I love ya, don't get me wrong. But can't you just enjoy this for what it is. Don't bring shop into it."

She laughed. "Sure Red," she winked before taking off, finding Vreenak among the crowd of happy people that showed nothing but content.

"Daddy," Maddie stated causing Rick to lean over, his eyes locking in her blues as she handed him an empty plate?

"What can I get for you sweetheart?"

"Can I have another hotdog, the one with the cheese in them?"

"You sure can Little Miss," Richard began, taking her plate and grabbing one hotdog he had cornered special for just her before handing the plate back.

"Thanks Daddy." She took off running, and Rick couldn't help but smile brighter as he watched his little one run. So full of life, it was hard to imagine that nearly 5 years ago he was feeding her the same type of hot dogs cut up in bite sized portions, her little strong hands grabbing one at a time and stuffing them in a mouth that just began to hold teeth. Rolling over from her stomach to her back, laughing for the first time on Mother's day, Amelia and him crying as they heard their daughter laugh while laying in bed, crawling and getting into so many things as her curiosity of the world began to take root in her actions, and her first steps, her first words flourished into Richard Barlow's mind so vividly that the thoughts themselves caused his eyes to well in subtle tears. Time was so fleeting, he didn't want her to grow up, His thoughts drew to her future, college, her leaving home, meeting some boy and the two starting their own family, the wedding Rick would pay for and the value he would take as he walked his daughter down the aisle. Grandchildren, more stories, more writings written in the anthem of their lives.

My how time would fly.

Rick was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice a man standing beside, a plate of his own held out empty. "Oh," Richard stammered as he turned, wiping his tears from his eyes with the back of his shirt, "sorry man, didn't see you there. What can I get for you," he looked at the grill, seeing the few burgers, the few hotdogs and a few more pork steaks waiting, "I'm just about out of veggie burgers, but your welcome to a hot dog or two....,"

"No," said the man solemnly, "I think I'm done."

"Oh come on pal," Richard began a smirk forming, "still plenty."

"No," the man stated, "I believe thats enough."

A quandary played across Rick's mind before he shrugged. "Alright," he stated absently flipping one of the burgers, "I'm not going to force ya. If your done your done."

"Indeed," the man stated before placing the plate in the garbage, "I want you to know though Rick..., I'm sorry."

Rick's face flustered. "Ok," he balked before turning back to his burgers, "that was a bit weird, but sure. What are you sorry about?"

"I never meant for this reality to be so..., well, suited," the man stammered, interjecting his thoughts with the rapid fire equivalent of a machine gun, "my programing doesn't create the reality, merely supplements it's inception. But I never meant for your reality to be so continuous so vivid, its going to make your exit really hard."

Richard laughed. "Buddy, I think you've had enough to drink. Do you need someone to take you home?"

"Who?"

The words pressed suddenly in the void of silence and as Rick turned, all he saw was white. As his eyes cast in wildly, his thoughts drew on Madelynn, his world, his purpose, no longer there. "No," was the only gasp he could manage as he looked back at the grill that was no longer there. All that was left was him and this man in a field of white. Rick no longer wore the comforts of his former life, the reality that was constructed was now a revelation that all of it was a lie. He felt his face, the stubble, felt his clothes, those of Starfleet rags.

"No," he stated, "no God no...,"

Rick Barlow fell to his knees, tears streaming, the wall he had put up suddenly taken and he was wretched with emotion, the lie finally revealed to be so, the 6 years, the wife he never had and the daughter he would never hold, all confronted and revealed to be a reality created by manufacture of his subconscious thoughts and the supplement of the program known as G.O.R.I.K . All of it washed over him and crippled and he sobbed as a baby sobbed, letting go of everything and falling to the cold ground.

"Daddy," came a familiar voice that caused Commander Rick Barlow to rise suddenly from his torment, looking upon his daughter with love and tears. "Daddy why are you crying?"

"Oh...," Barlow hesitantly stated, trying to move towards her, his every thought wanting to hug her and never let her go, but he didn't, he couldn't. "Oh Little Miss..., I think I'll miss you most of all....,"

She smiled at this. "I love you Daddy."
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Gabe » Mon Nov 26, 2012 5:26 pm

LTCMDR Rick Barlow
Commanding Officer, U.S.S. Hope
Borg Alcove #739203, Eden

OFF:
Alright, everyone, this is the starting post to move us back into the reality of the now. You can have your characters remember, or forget their former reality. The main point of focus when you wake from your alcove is to follow one simple notion. All your wounds are healed, both physical, and mental, you are all renewed more so than you have ever been in your lives. With that, we move on...,

ON:
The simple act of opening his eyes, Madelynn disappearing, and Lieutenant Commander Rick Barlow waking to the world that was a wasteland was crushing, so far that it made him weep, but he steeled himself, finding the resolve to carry on, and with that he stepped out of his Borg Alcove, stepping foot on the dead world of Eden, watching as the last lights of the world's power died with the last regenerative cycle of the former Collective.

It was strange, Red was considerably in pain, emotionally, but his body and even his mind were as clear as they had ever been, even his skin flushed with new found rejuvenation, a glowing if you will of not only body and mind, but of heart. Then, there was another, a tingling thought in the back of his mind. A series of coordinates, a navigational plot through a series of way points. He could recall them even though he never had been, never set those markers into a ship's computer or piloted a vessel anywhere near the destination that was running in his head. It was as if these thoughts, this information was implanted into his mind artificially. With that thought, he knew, Rick knew that these coordinates were the location of the Man in Black, further, a save avenue to traverse to reach him.

With a passing respect, Lieutenant Commander Rick Barlow looked at the dark powerless spire, the once green glow of the being known as G.O.R.I.K. dimmed into darkness. "My god," he breathed, "and thank you."

With that, Red clipped his communicator, "Edward, have the crew return to Hope, there is much work that needs to be done."

<<Open Tag>>
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby Sonja Kinnunen » Mon Nov 26, 2012 10:37 pm

Lieutenant Talla Vreenak
Acting Executive Officer
U.S.S. Hope, Planetside

A drawn out grunt preceded the metallic clang of something clattering its way out of an equally metallic housing. Vreenak held the transformer assembly in one hand as he staggered back a step. The other hand was pressed over his left eye. For a moment the Romulan stood there forcing himself to breath before he slowly moved over to a small pile of parts he'd retrieved. After he set the next part of his collection down he leaned up against the alcove to rest.

Calculated risk, he told himself. As he recalled from the project notes these weren't the worst of the side effects he could have experienced. Had it been arrogance on his part he hadn't told anyone what the worst case could have been? He couldn't just surrender secret project material because it was now convenient; because he could presume there'd be no government to send Tal Shiar after him to make sure everyone knew what happened when you spoke lightly around potential enemies. The Federation were far from friends; and even friends didn't need to know everything.

He grunted when he forced himself back onto his feet to step over to where he was working. Slowly he lowered his hand and opened his eye, the light doing little to ease the migraine. Using both hands he hefted a large power converter -- or what the Borg equivalent happened to be -- up and swung it around toward the pile of functional and broken equipment. The broken pieces could be torn apart to get a better understanding of the application of the theory he'd seen inside the databanks.

After he'd collected a fewer smaller components Vreenak had an idea to fashion into a weapon that might prove useful against the Borg -- one they would have difficulty adapting to in the short-term -- the Acting Executive Officer knelt next to his collection. Slowly he turned his head about to look for Barlow, but if he couldn't find the man he'd rely on the communicator, "Permission to transport salvage aboard?" Vreenak looked about as healthy as a Romulan could, though he liked to think he hadn't looked ghastly previously, despite the sweat on his brow and his taunt features. The sense of being 'refreshed' was lost on him, but then it seemed he never had known when to 'take a break.'

<<Tag Barlow>>
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby aufarooqui » Mon Nov 26, 2012 11:30 pm

Maya wrote: Vreenak resigned his commission to join the Romulan separatist movement. Anam Farooqui and Janelle James are in.


Subcommander Anam Farooqi piloted the D’Deridex class starship into the Omarion Nebula. Imperial cruisers were chasing them, but the warship they were in could take on ten like them. Nonetheless, the resistance was unable to win the war at this rate.

Suddenly, his location changed, as was likely to happen in dreams, and it made sense somehow too.

He was in a Romulan interrogation room. The procedure room as it was officially called. Mental invasion was not perceived as a breach of privacy, but a matter of government policy to the Romulans. They wanted to know who was the ringleader of the separatists. He didn’t want to give up Vreenak’s name, but he’d never had electricity zapped into his brain before.

Now Anam and Vreenak were liberating Romulus from the old guard’s hands. Apparently he didn’t give up Vreenak’s name under torture, or if he did, they won anyway.

GORIK wrote: Regenerative Cycle Complete


His eyes up, not knowing momentarily where he was or what he was doing. Eden, Hope, Gorik, Borg. He stepped out of the regeneration chamber to see GORIK shut down, and life on the entire planet reduced to the roughly two dozen surviving USS Hope crew. He saw Rick Barlow’s face, never had a man had such a handsome face. It was like seeing everything for the first time. He woke up and smelled the brisk cold air, his eyes locking on to the beautiful Mia Cummings, but then scanning the rest of the crew. These were the saints, the new community. Destiny had pulled them all these years, and he no longer saw flaws among these noble men and women. His authority issues with Barlow, and Maxwell, evaporated along with his anger at himself for a lackadaisical attitude regarding his ambitions with Starfleet. He wanted to dedicate his life to others, teach love and respect to whoever asked, and save the galaxy to thwart the plot of the Legacy.

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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Gabe » Tue Nov 27, 2012 11:29 am

LTCMDR Rick Barlow
Commanding Officer, U.S.S. Hope
Plantside, Eden

OFF:
Let the great salvage commence. Open to any and all ideas of new devices and systems that can be installed on Hope at this point. Suggest to Barlow and we'll see what makes it to the ship's specs ;)

ON:
Barlow walked among his crew as they listlessly disengaged from the dead Borg alcoves, his attention shifting from one to the other. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, we have a lot of work to do and a short amount of time to do it. We need repairs and we need scrap, I want salvage teams to scout out possibilities and I want a pile of useful materials segregated by systems applicable. Engineering to Engineering, Bridge to Bridge, and so on and so forth. Marisol will have final say what goes where before the parts are installed...,"

<<Tag Hocevar>>

"Spare parts and items we could possibly use later we'll store in the cargo holds. We won't have time to get all of the ship repaired, probably will never be able to see Hope as she was, but we can get what we can to the critical systems and we can isolate ourselves to decks that can be easily mended." He looked around, eyeing the alcove's dead power cores, noting that they might have, at one time, ran purely on the power provided by nanomachines, but he had learned through his time developing the Cerberus Class Eternity that such power cores could be retrofitted to Federation Technology. "Take everything we can people, Mercenaries would kill over this stuff, let's take advantage of the situation while we still can."

<<Open Tag>>

Red found Scott Orlan, alive and well, his eyes lucid and his mind more than likely as clear as everyone else. To this, the Lieutenant Commander placed a hand on the Operations Officer's shoulder before giving him a quick nod of understanding, a monument of the trust that had now been forged.

<<Tag Orlan>>

Lieutenant Vreenak wrote:"Permission to transport salvage aboard?"


The Commander turned on his heel seeing the amount of scrap that had already been collected by his First Officer, obviously taking the initiative. "As much as we can Vreenak and as much as we can hold. Let's not waste this oppotunity."

<<Tag Vreenak>>

The Engineer inside Red wanted to get his hands dirty, pulling scrap and useable components from Eden to supplement and repair Hope, but he was now the crew's leader, he had to organize, to get things in motion before he could do that. As he walked along the aisles of alcoves that held the Hope crew, each one waking refreshed, renewed, purpose planted in their brains, Rick nodded, shook hands, patted shoulders, giving them the physical understanding that their path was now resounding like a beacon before them. There were more objectives then just home, there was more to it all now that he understood. And in the lapse of his thoughts he figured this must have been what James Maxwell felt like; knowing beyond any shred of doubt that the course had to be taken.

Those thoughts passed however as the Commander spotted Amelia, alive and well, her motions to leave the alcove as listless as the rest, but she seemed even better than last Rick saw her. He smiled at her before his footsteps found themselves trudging towards her.

<<Tag Moore>>
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby aufarooqui » Wed Nov 28, 2012 11:38 pm

Rick Barlow wrote: Take everything we can people, Mercenaries would kill over this stuff, let's take advantage of the situation.


Anam Farooqi looked at all the electrical equipment and wiring lying about around him. Crew members were pulling cables and parts from the Borg regeneration chambers under the idea that if nothing else the parts had scrap value alone. He began pulling out display panels from the mass of regeneration alcove, and saw some of the physical regeneration technology which had healed a slight limp in his left foot, among other things.

Barlow was busy coordinating with the crew, but Marisol Hocevar was clawing out the electrical guts of the Borg machinery. He wheeled over a mass of LCDs and panels to the chief engineer, and asked her, "Sir, permissible to bring these displays and equipment aboard? There's also some equipment which I think is connected with our miraculous healing, permission to see if we can integrate it into Sickbay?"

<Tag Hocevar>
Last edited by aufarooqui on Thu Nov 29, 2012 1:29 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby Sonja Kinnunen » Wed Nov 28, 2012 11:55 pm

Lieutenant Talla Vreenak
Acting Executive Officer
U.S.S. Hope, Planetside to Cargo Bay 2

"Understood. I will have an entire regeneration station beamed up from the ship," Vreenak replied seeing how Barlow was in the mood to loiter long enough to gather equipment. The pile he'd assembled had been in case the man felt like rushing on to their destination with the same urgency that had somehow managed to bring them all to this planet. Reckless disregard for a ship about to tear itself apart, but it had turned out in their favor so far.

<<Tag Barlow>>

"Vreenak to Hope, one and cargo to beam to Cargo Two." The Romulan stood to his feet and managed to stifle how he felt long enough to be transported aboard. He could handle organizing equipment in a cargo bay for a time as the crew beamed back aboard ship. It'd give him space; room so others didn't see him drained from what seemingly had rejuvenated the rest of them.

<<Tag Hope>>

When he appeared in the cargo bay, alone for the moment, Vreenak moved to the side and knelt down next to a container resting on the floor. As he leaned against it, he let his eyes close to suppress the nausea from moving around while standing. Dangerous, he knew, but aside from coordinating beaming up large pieces to the puzzle below, there was a planned detour to make sure his present condition didn't worsen at an inopportune moment. Easier to deal with it alone than tell anyone. Not that he missed that imaginary, zealous woman from the dream world; but he would have felt more comfortable discussing such matters with another Romulan.

After a minute of collecting himself, the Lieutenant would stand to his feet to see about transporting more material to the bay for examination or use later. There were several projects he had in mind given the time and resources needed to construct them. Of the two they had the least of time, unfortunately.

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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby FSF Bourne » Thu Nov 29, 2012 6:08 am

Lieutenant Commander Sarah Jamieson
On board shuttle Peace

&

Joanna Jamieson
On board shuttle Peace

The shuttle twisted within the debris field, its engines fluttered on and off as Sarah Jamieson feathered the throttle control to control the shuttle’s trajectory; the debris was tighter packed in the central areas where it was more focused, the explosion seemingly rippling from within the central halls of whatever ship this was and echoing outward until the concussive force tore her apart. Sarah watched the debris with a tinge of sadness, as a pilot she hated to see a ship in this mess; desolate and alone she laid defeated, abandoned by the crew that once walked her hallways.

“I’m picking up a faint signal,” Jo interrupted the silence, her words said at a whisper, the Borg ships that now surrounded the debris field were looking for something and the tension within their small cabin was palpable; not much was being said for fear the most minute of sounds would attract attention. “I can’t identify it but it’s putting out faint pulses, I only just picked it up as we moved into this section of debris.”

“It’s the black box from this ship.” Sarah said as she looked over to Jo’s screen. “I’d recognise that anywhere. We need to get it on board.”

“What? Are you crazy?”

“If the Borg are looking for this then it’s obviously important and I’m damn sure not going to make things easy for them, not after what they have done!”

The argument was over before it had begun. Jo knew Sarah was right and even if she wasn’t her tone told Jo she wasn’t going to differ from this course. The shuttle rotate slightly at an angle pointing towards the source of the signal and gently began to move in the direction with gentle prods from the directional thrusters. The debris seemed to open up a path as it nudged at itself, probably caused by the commotion of so many visitors.

Neither woman noticed the Borg ship circling around the debris field behind them, it’s search constant and unrelenting as it scanned the debris field a section at a time; they were safe, for now, as it scanned the furthest most sections from them but eventually the debris field would be the enemy which they feared so much, its tightening embrace a choking presence in the evolution of battle.

They were close to the black box now. Its signal stronger yet still muffled as it sat amongst huge lumbering hulks of debris; Sarah knew getting it out with anything but transport wasn’t ever going to happen but the risk of such action would surely grab the attention of the enemy that now surrounded them. Sarah concentrated on the black box and its location, she didn’t trust Jo to have the skills to make such a transport it herself. She daren’t risk activating it while in open space as once the signal went live the entire sector would be drawn to it.

“Jo, once this thing is on board I’m going to extrapolate the data through the shuttle’s computer and then wipe it and beam it back into space. If the Borg ever do find it it’ll be nothing more than a ornament.”

Sarah initiated the the transport and watched as the small circular pod appeared at the back of the shuttle. Jo had her back to the console and watched as the black box responded to the shuttle’s computer with open arms, allowing its data to be drawn and purged once it was gone. Jo couldn’t help but admire the technology, a simplistic device used for centuries whose only function was of a story teller, spinning a yarn of what happened on her crew’s fateful last mission. Inadvertently Jo caught herself thinking about The Writer, his pen stroke obviously affecting their every move, was he the black box - the last remnant of the Eternity that lived to tell the tale - or was he something different, something more powerful. Suddenly the black box disappeared, discarded; Sarah now powered up the computer and Jo turned back to watch the last recordings of the fateful mission.

The Borg detected the transmission. their ships moved around slowly as to not attract attention and began descending on the debris field.

The information from the black box began to filter through the system; digital information flooded the shuttle and then began to take shape in the form of a broken video that filled the front most view screen. Both women watched with interest and wonderment.

The Darkness wrote:In a glow of white, the trash heap ship detonated. Nomad, caught in the explosion's path, was struck as if by Thor's hammer. In an instant, the sheer concussive force swept away the little ship's wings and engines. An onslaught of burning plasma obliterated her shielding and began to singe and score an already battered hull. Nomad tumbled, out of control, through a sky suddenly alive with massive debris from the wounded dreadnought.
In her cockpit, Darkness was slammed against the restraining straps of his chair, then pressed by leaden G-force into the seating. "Madelyn...restart engines....thrusters!" he shouted above the tortured cries of a ship being rent asunder. Hands grasped for the lifeless controls, only to be forced back into his lap as the dying Nomad's revolutions made them feel many times their weight. "Eject," he said, eyes sweeping the now dead control surfaces for a last bit of salvation. "NO EJECT?" Darkness roared, before the wind was again pushed from his lungs by the G-force.

Around him tumbled gold, jewels, and opulence. His personal crates had burst open, sending a shower of precious metal and gem stones throughout the cabin as Nomad tumbled erratically. A bejeweled goblet bounced off of his right ear, as coins and other tiny projectiles rained upon Darkness from all directions. He attempted to shield his eyes, but each whirl of the ship overcame his musculature. The forward view pane filled with solid, tortured metal; a gigantic chunk of the Borg ship spun in for a collision. For a moment, Darkness saw them. Three drones clung to the wreckage, eyes emotionless as they regarded his approach.

Fortune again smiled. The blow dealt him was only glancing, enough to merely change the course upon which his lifeless Nomad now hurtled. The latest collision reduced the tremendous spin, making his movements possible again. Unhappily, though, Darkness also heard the loud hiss. He was now losing oxygen, his ship a cadaver. Ahead, the Borg Dreadnought slowly turned, her own uncontrolled movements made stately by the sheer size of her. Presented as the last thing he'd ever see, she revealed her wound, a gaping chasm of wreckage framing the dark surrounds of her inner workings. A gigantic mouth, preparing to swallow him whole...

"Well, then," Darkness said to himself as Nomad plunged to the inevitable, "I suppose this is my final card." Eyelids closed upon the scene.


There wasn’t time to mourn or say a word as the women sat in shock and the video pulsed to a final halt on Colin’s face; the shuttle jostled and threw both women from their seats and moved backwards completely out of their control. Sarah climbed to the console first and began to swear profusely. Jo, who had taken a little harder of a hit grappled her head and watched dazed as Sarah slammed against her console.

“They got us Jo dammit!” Sarah screamed about the noise of the shuttle protesting its new trajectory. “The Borg must have known we were here all along and waited for this damn moment! We’re in their tractor beam Jo!”
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Re: S02Ep07 Brothers

Postby Mia Cummings » Fri Nov 30, 2012 9:55 am

Lt Amelia 'Mia' Moore
Chief of Science
USS Hope


Rick was the perfect husband and the child they had was the apple of his eye. Little Maddie was full of energy, running around and getting into everything. Mia had sat for quite a while on the small swing and just watched her play. She'd watched as Rick had come home from work and joined his daughter in play as Mia had prepared dinner. Her heart was full of love for both of them. She could just sit and watch for hours. Of course it helped her move knowing that their friends would be arriving soon.


The Picnic was in full swing. It was be good to see Jon again with his wife Lauren. Even her old boss Sorveck was there. It had been a while since she'd seen them and it filled her with happiness to see that the past few years had been good to them.

Rick was over by the grill, with a love of adoration in his eyes as he watched the little girl running about and greeting guests. Little Jimmy Maxwell was trailing behind her like a puppy.

Marisol was walking closer, a big smile on her face. Then Amelia saw a smudge of dirt appear across Marisol's face. Amelia blinked and the face was once again smiling and perfectly clean and happy to see her.

But something didn't feel right.

Amelia turned around, And found herself facing Commander Byrne, She'd had to stop herself from using the D'Tagh she'd rescued for him. And now her hand was checking to make sure she hadn't hurt him.
"You didn't," he smiled, somewhat embarrassed by his actions. Where once had lain an instrument of death was now Amelia's hand, soft upon the skin of his neck, a gentle caress to his earlier wound. "You've only ever been good to me," Amelia," he said quietly as their eyes met. Of it's own accord, his left hand rose to touch her face. "And good for me," he continued.

Amelia felt her heart beating rapidly at the touch of his hand. Without thinking she pressed her face to his touch and a soft sigh escaped her lips as she held his eyes with her own. "You are a good man, Colin. I could never..." the second part of his statement registered on her and he tilted her head slightly, "good for you?"

"Yes," Colin answered. "Good for me. In my darkest moment, you lifted me. A few words from you held more healing power than......." He stopped, wondering if he was making any sense at all to her. "You fill my heart, Amelia."

She looked up at him for a moment before a smile grew on her face, "Are you saying, what I hope you are?" Her hands moving to take his, the D'K tagh dropping to the floor between them.

This was the moment. A thousand meaningful glances, or a thousand gentle touches of his hand could not carry the impact, or the goodness she sought, like the words she wanted to hear. Words, he realized, that he knew he felt within. Words he'd known with absolute certainty when it looked as if his life was about to end. Words that, had he been able, he would have said to her during their time together in the Medical Bay. "Yes," Colin replied. "Yes, I am. I'm falling in love with you, Amelia."

She flung her arms around him and hugged him tight, "I must be the luckiest girl in the quadrant." She felt like shouting but instead whispered into his ear, "Colin, I love you too."

The words fell into his ear as a welcome tide. Colin took her into his arms, not caring of the environment, the Followers, the damned war, or any of his own people who may be about. There was only her, in this moment, and a love now kindled between them. "I do love you," he responded, before the first delicate touch of her lips to his.

Amelia forgot all about her surroundings in that moment that he brought his lips to hers. The only thing she was aware of was him, the beating of his heart against her chest, his warm breath caressing her cheek, his arms holding her close. It was a moment she would never forget. And then, the sound of stifled laughter penetrated her thoughts and she couldn't help but smile as she looked up into his eyes. "I guess people will be talking now."

Colin laughed quietly. "Let them." He kissed her once again, suddenly joyful for the first time in so very long.

Amelia felt so happy she couldn't believe it was really happening. In the midst of everything else around them, she had found love, "If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up!"




"But you must," A voice said from everywhere and nowhere, "It is time."

"No, No.." She mumbled as she tumbled from the regeneration chamber. She looked around in confusion for a moment. She dropped to her knees and cried for a life lost that she'd never known and a love lost to hate. And so many friends lost ..because of her. She knew it. This had been her doing.

"Oh god, put me back, I don't want to know the truth, let me be happy again," she wailed as she clawed at the now dead chamber.

<open Tag>


*** Quoted scene from S02E01 "Prophet"
Mia Cummings; AMO/Lt.: USS John C Stennis - CSEC/Lt.: USS Stargazer SFOL * Sa'Ra;Security Officer/Ensign: USS Firewall * Cdr. Amber (Tamara) Darius-Belmont - Chief Medical Officer: USS Atlantis * Lt Amelia "Mia" Moore, CSCI; USS Eternity *
Mia Cummings
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