(Episode 1.1 oh my lord I have no idea what I'm doing.)

"They're going to take the ship."

T'Lir did not startle, but there was a part of her that tensed at the silence suddenly being broken. "I don't see the benefit of such pessimism, Captain. I do not think the outcome is so preordained."

Chiron rubbed her forehead. "I ruined my ship. I murdered research scientists. I allowed an Undine to escape. I may have given the Romulans another reason to attack the Federation. There is no other outcome."

The Vulcan was lost for a reply. Nothing her captain had said was untrue, yet-- She forced down the tide of anger. It would be unjust, yes. She had been there, had seen it all, had watched her captain struggle to reconcile her conscious with her orders, had seen her fail. And now they say there in Spacedock, drained from weeks of limping back to Earth with the entire front of the ship blown off, from days of interviews, interrogations, struggled so find out how everything had done so very wrong. "We all share responsibility."

"But I was in charge. It's on me in the end."

She carefully did not sigh. "Is this one of those conversations in which I go against my nature to be supportive and you continue to be morose?"

At that, Chiron cracked a smile. "It is. See, this is why I keep you around."

T'Lir arched an eyebrow. "Captain, I would be honor-bound to request a transfer if I believed that you had me as your Chief of Security for my friendship rather than my skill."

"Oh dear, you caught me." She couldn't put the right amount of humor into it.

They were both saved from further attempts at humor by their communicators beeping simultaneously. The women shared a look. This was it. Admiral Quinn was summoning them, and they would finally learn their fate. They met Auzrel and Igoshim on the way, fell into step with the two scientists silently. They'd face it together, as a crew....except where were the engineers?

That question was answered as soon as they entered Quinn's office. Brooks and Sioh were already there. Her chief engineer was as steady as always, but Brooks kept shifting his weight from foot to foot. Auz tried to catch his eye, figure out if he knew something the others didn't, but it was a lost cause.

Both Quinn and Admiral T'nae stood behind the admiral's desk. T'nae wasted no time with social niceties. "Lieutenant Commander Chiron, we have finished our review of the Vendor incident." There was a collective intake of breath in the second before she continued. "The admiralty has concluded that you performed to the best of your abilities as a Starfleet officer. The blame for Zelle's deception cannot be placed upon you when it is us who have made the graver error."

Chiron heard Auzrel's shocked, almost giggly exhale. She saw T'Lir's spine relax by a millimeter, Sioh squeeze his eyes close for a moment. She had to swallow a few times before she could reply. "Thank you, sir."

T'nae nodded sharply and sat. All eyes turned to Quinn. "As for your ship..."

Decommissioned.

You'll lose your family.

Beyond repair.

You have failed.

You wasted your chance.

Please. Please. Say we can do it.

"...the damage is such that reconstructing the hull in a traditional manner will be difficult. I have been working with Lieutenants Traht and Sterlin, and we may have found a solution. Lieutenant Traht?"

Sioh turned to face the crew. "As the admiral said, reconstructing the hull to the specifications of the original ship design would leave the ship unstable. There would be weak points. However, covering the empty space with a transparent alloy would be a different story." He hit a button, and a holographic image of a ship appeared onscreen. "We imagine something like this."

"Oh, Prophets," Chiron whispered. She wanted to step forward, touch this impossible thing. "You're sure," she asked Sioh. "It can hold up? One giant window like that?"

Sioh smiled. "Ask Lieutenant Sterlin. He did the logistics."

Brooks' eyes widened for a moment. "Uhm. Yes, sir, yes it will."

Chiron looked back at Quinn. "Sir, I don't know how to ask this, but..."

"Yes," he cut her off, "yes, it will be under your command. This ship is yours, Commander. You're stuck with it."

"Sir..." Chiron paused. "Wait. Commander?"

At that, Auz had to laugh.

Wandering around the ground missions in Star Trek online has made me a bit homesick for Tabula Rasa, which, while it had lots of problems at the start was perfectly playble at the end. I'm miss my skitterin! In fact I named one of my ships the USS Skitterin lol. Tabula Rasa did have some beautiful environments to explore.

My first MMO was Planetside, and there are rumors of a Planetside 2 in the works. From there I went to CoH/Cov and Eve Online, where I still have accounts. I also play WoW and am a part of the Taint guild there. I've also played Lineage II and Aion, although when I'm in the mood for grind-fests I turn to Sword of the New World, which is prettier than both and has better music. Although Lineage II does have some great music also. Music in STO is pretty bad, but some of its growing on me. Like a fungus. Eww.

I can be found on Virtue server with many toons. My main is Handout, a bubble defender, my global is also Handout.
I'm a part of Guardians of Paragon, a non-gay guild.

Very much a fan of the rp of course! Hope to get a chance to do so with you all soon.

Sorry for length, I get carried away and love to write!

Starfleet Personnel Record

Name: Kalid "Kal" Rel
Gender: Male
Species: Trill, joined
Home World/Place of Birth: Hoobishan, Trill
Age: 25
Date of Birth: December 21, 2384
Physique/Build: Slim
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 180lbs.
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: Blond
Skin tone: Tan
Distinguishing marks: Typical Trill spots

Assignment Record:

2403-2404 Starfleet Enlisted Training, Engineering Department, USS Newton
2404-2406 Crewman, Warp Core Technician, USS Newton
2406-2407 Crewman, extended medical rehabilitation, Starfleet Medical, Earth
2407-2408 Petty Officer, Warp Core Technician, USS da Vinci
2408-Present Chief, Warp Core Specialist, USS da Vinci

Family: Jarteth Hassel, father, 44, Guardian; Gallena Hassel, mother, 45, Guardian; Fezil Hassel, brother, 26, Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet, Deepspace 5

Talents/Abilities: Kal has an uncanny affinity for machines of all sorts. From computer programming to building of actual hardware, running diagnostics to operating complex systems, if its mechanical or electronic, chances are that Kal can use it, repair it, or maybe even make it better. His expertise however, is in both warp core mechanics as well as robotics.

Special Abilities: As a joined Trill, Kal has the ability to call upon the memories, thoughts, and experiences of the previous nine hosts, as well as those of the Rel symbiont.

Strengths: Kal's insight into the mechanical nature of things lends itself to a highly organized and structured lifestyle. He is never one to misplace something, or forget an important piece of information.

Limitations: Kal's greatest weakness is his lack of communication skills with other people, preferring the rigid and ordered world of machines to being social. While this has slightly improved since his joining with Rel, he still has difficulty overcoming his natural tendency towards shyness and his awkward speech patterns.

Likes: Machines, computers, and anything of the sort are Kal's greatest love in life. He enjoys burying himself in his work as well, rather than make friends or perhaps find himself a lover. The Rel symbiont has brought its own preferences to the new psyche of course, including a few that sit quite awkwardly with the host, from going to parties and dancing.

Dislikes: Being the center of attention is both Kal's most terrifying moment, and Rel's favourite pastime. Kal has a strange dislike for most foods, preferring to eat things most would consider bland. Of course Rel, being more outgoing, is doing it's best to change all of this.

Ambitions: Kal would be quite happy to live out his life, serving on board an advanced starship, a place where he can immerse himself in the latest technologies. Finding a lover is a whimsical desire of his, but one he figures won't likely occur so he needent bother trying. Someday, Kal's secret hope is that he might perfect slipstream technology for the Federation, though the thought of all the attention it would get him makes him nervous.

Quirks: Though usually quiet and soft-spoken, Kal can become suddenly quite animated and expressive, a testament to the symbiont's part of his new personality. This combination of being shy and outgoing at the same time often leads to him saying very strange things or confusing others.

Hobbies/Interests: Besides staying up to date with the latest in technology and mechanics, as well as building little robots from spare parts, Kal has an avid appreciation for art. His quarters are filled with objects from many different cultures, a sort of eye-wrenching combination that can make others wince at times. Since joining, Kal has found a love for dancing as well, a favourite activity of Rel's, as well as a taste for wine, poetry, and sappy holo-novels, all of which he does his best to keep secret from others.

Languages: Federation Standard, Trill

Education:

Primary, Uesentala School, Hoobishan, Trill
Starfleet Enlisted Training, USS Newton

Personal History:

Born to Guardian parents, those who tend the symbiont pools within the Caves of Mak'ala on Trill, Kalid Hassel and his older brother were always at odds with the strict, monastic life their family led. Neither child seemed caught up in the typical Trill obsession with becoming joined, however, perhaps a testament to having their lives revolve around the symbionts. While Fezil was outgoing, athletic, and charming, Kal as he was nicknamed was more introspective, quiet, and tended to follow where others might lead. This explains why when the brothers entered into Starfleet that Fezil went to the Academy for officer training, while Kal took the shorter enlisted training on board the Vesper Class starship USS Newton.

Kalid and Rel's joining later would never have been sanctioned by the Symbiosis Commission on Trill, and the pair soon found out just how seemingly ill-suited they were for each other. Rel's previous hosts had all been outgoing, eager for new and exciting experiences, a passion the symbiont itself shared. Now, however, Rel was a part of a shy, easily-embarrassed young man who's idea of fun was building a toy robot in his off hours. The expressive, friendly, passionate, and romantic symbiont found itself completely at odds with Kal's personality, enough so that the normally comfortable bonding of two people into one has become a long, drawn-out process of compromises.

Starfleet Service:

When he was nineteen, Kal left his home on Trill, enlisting into Starfleet and undergoing his training on board the USS Newton. It was here he discovered his passion for machines and computers, and quickly proved himself to be a highly capable young man, quick to follow orders, and clever enough to be given a task and left on his own.

While the Newton was on an extended mission of the Hromi Cluster, the ship was attacked and destroyed by a Klingon Bird of Prey that surprised them with their shield's down. Kal, along with numerous others, managed to reach the escape pods before the ship was destroyed. Marala Rel, a joined Trill and the ships' executive officer, was on board the same escape pod as Kalid, though she had been mortally injured trying to save other officers during the evacuation. Fortunately for the symbiont, there was both another Trill and a doctor in the pod as well, and Marala begged the young engineer to become Rel's next host. His decision was rushed, as her injuries were dire, but in the end and despite many misgivings, Kal agreed.

Kalid Rel, along with the other survivors from the USS Newton, were picked up by another Federation starship, the USS Galilei, and transported back to Earth. For three months they were treated medically and psychologically, before receiving their new assignments. Kal was stationed on board the USS da Vinci, a state of the art Emissary Class vessel. Here, through his own skill and dedication, and through the ever-increasing stability and command abilities the Rel symbiont was providing to their new personality, Kalid quickly rose to the rank of Chief, the youngest non-comissioned officer on board.

Lets try this again

Here's an interesting glitch I captured. I was attacking a Romulan and fired my Quantums and it spammed like 50 of them. No BOff sills involved. Unfortunately it only did the damage of one torp!

It had been an hour of pacing and waiting on the bridge. Aron had kept the captain updated on the repair schedule, though Edgar was more preoccupied with the status of the away team. “Where are they now?”

“They’re still moving up the pathway to the abbey, like they were two minutes ago, sir.” Solek mulled. Edgar frowned. “Sir, they understand your orders. There is no indication they’re incapacitated. They will contact you the moment the area is secure.”

“Ishii to the Bridge...Captain, we can bring the shields back up with main or auxiliary power. There are still partial repairs and patches to the integrity fields that we need to complete.”

“Thank you, Ensign. Inform me when we can restore main power.” Edgar said, turning to Solek. “At least something is progressing.”

Another fifteen minutes passed in silence on the bridge before the long awaited communication from the surface finally arrived. “Ensign Troi to New Orleans. Captain, respond.”

“Calvin here – go ahead.” The tension on the bridge spiked a moment waiting for the report.

“We’ve reached the abbey and secured a perimeter. We’re ready for the ambassador.” Edgar sighed in relief at the report.

“Understood, Ensign; good work. New Orleans out.” Edgar stood, looking around the bridge. “Now that the combat situation has ended, I think it best if I escort our guest to the temple myself. Keep Starfleet updated on our progress.”

“Understood, sir.” Solek acknowledged as Edgar moved to the turbolift. Edgar soon arrived at the ambassador’s quarters, and the two moved quickly to the transporter room. During the walk, Edgar tried his best to explain the situation to the ambassador to diffuse the Vulcan’s disapproval.

“It seems to me, Romulan, that you enjoy putting yourself and your ship in danger.” The Vulcan dismissed.

“I assure you, Ambassador that is certainly not the case. Also as I’ve reminded you this is not only my first command but my first mission as captain. It is unfortunate you refuse to be more forgiving on the matter.” Edgar jabbed back, using what logic he thought would be most effective.

“Coddling the weak is never effective, Lieutenant.” The ambassador vollied back. Edgar refused to stoop any lower and let the ambassador have the last word. After a moment travelling through the transporter system, Edgar and the Ambassador arrived on the planet.

“Calvin to New Orleans...Solek, we’ve arrived at the Abbey and the ambassador is entering now.”

“Captain, I need to speak to you on a private channel, are you alone?” Solek asked. Edgar moved away from the abbey and his security team and gave Solek the go to continue. “Captain, I’ve just got word from Starfleet...they found the remains of ambassador Sokketh in his quarters. He’s been dead for at least a week.”

Shortly before...

In addition to her research project from Starfleet Intelligence, Maggie still had her responsibilities as the Chief Science Officer for the Pandora. Those duties currently had her on the bridge of the ship, monitoring readings from the surrounding space of the Yarnell system, which the Pandora was currently patrolling. The initial sensor sweep had picked up nothing that would indicate a Klingon presence, so now she was waiting for a more detailed sweep of the immediate area to finish. As she waited, her mind drifted back to her project and, specifically, the interview she had had with Shrel a few days ago.

"You're not very talkative, are you Lieutenant Shrel?"

The Bajoran responded first with a look of mild annoyance before he opened his mouth. "I am merely efficient with my speech."

Maggie took the curt answer in stride. Shrel was far from the first gruff Security officer she had had to deal with. "I understand. I just have one more thing I want to ask you about. It concerns the inventory of missing items following the attack."

She could have sworn she heard a low growl come from Shrel's mouth, though she couldn't tell if Shrel meant it for her or for himself. Regardless, the look of frustration on his face was unmistakable. "As I mentioned in my report, a large number of items were missing from specific ship departments. Ship holographic recording systems were knocked out during the fighting, but it was definitely the work of the Borg drones that invaded the ship."

"Why do you say that?" Maggie asked with an eyebrow raise. "Couldn't it have been a member of the crew? Starfleet has seen an increase in internal corruption, and Intelligence has determined that the Orion Syndicate seems to be using coercion and blackmail as a weapon against the Federation."

Shrel shook his head. "There's no way. Computer records show that all transporter activity out of the ship that would arise from moving that much material occurred during the Borg attack, and occurred while the Borg were known to be in Security, Engineering, and Medical. In order for a crew member to have done this, they would have had to do it in the midst of Borg drones. They would have been assimilated first."

"But the Borg normally don't assimilate lone individuals unless they pose a threat."

"As I also mentioned in my report, these Borg did not behave 'normally'. In addition to targeting areas of the ship with that housed no systems critical to ship function, such as Medical and the cargo bays, they were targeting senior staff for immediate assimilation. The standard protocol for dealing with Borg invasion of a ship is to prepare for energy fire, not nanoprobe injection. Nanoprobe injection tends to only be a consistent tactic when they invade a large civilian area, such as the colony."

Maggie smiled at Shrel. "Very good, Lieutenant Shrel. It's refreshing to see someone with such a good grasp of Borg behavior. Most of that's fallen by the wayside since Starfleet disbanded the Borg Task Force."

The compliment received no response from Shrel, so Maggie simply continued. "However, I do have one other question. According to your report, you weren't on the bridge at any time during the Borg attack. You were part of the security detail sent to Engineering. How do you know that the Borg were deliberately targeting senior staff?"

Surprisingly, Shrel briefly looked unnerved. It reminded Maggie of the way a child looked when caught in a lie, but Shrel had been telling the complete truth. She had enough reports from other members of the crew to confirm every word. The Bajoran quickly recovered though.

"I had to file a report, so I talked to everyone I needed to. That included the one person left alive or unassimilated by the time the bridge was secured."

"You never mentioned such a person in your report, Lieutenant Shrel. Who?"

Shrel looked at Maggie for a moment before looking off to the side. "Lieutenant Talona Roberts. She... witnessed the entire assault on the bridge."

"Roberts? Wait, one of the senior staff was also named Roberts."

The look Shrel gave her could have cut down a hundred Klingons. "Yes. As I recall, that tends to be the case with a husband and wife in Human culture."

The memory brought Maggie back to the present. From her station at the rear of the bridge, she looked over at Talona who was manning the Ops station to the left of the viewscreen. While Maggie wasn't known to be one of the more tactful officers in Starfleet, she could have kicked herself for not putting the pieces together regarding Talona. She had the same last name, still-fresh Romulan grief tattoos on her face, and an awkward air of loss that surrounded her wherever she went.

Maggie's console started beeping, alerting her to the end of the scan. Her eyes drifted back to it and casually scanned down the readout. Half-way down the list of data, her eyes widened.

"Captain! I've picked up energy patterns which indicate at least one cloaking device, used relatively recently. The ship must still be in this area!"

The bridge crew looked over at Maggie in surprise, including Oren-De. "Are you positive? Klingons aren't normally that careless."

Maggie looked up from her console with a nod. Oren-De noticed with surprise that the color had somewhat drained from her face. "That's because they're not Klingon. A second energy pattern in the same spot is unique to Borg technology."

Oren-De reacted immediately. "Red Alert!" As the bridge crew immediately prepared, Oren-De sat back in his chair and tapped a button on his console that activated a shipwide broadcast.

"Report to battle stations immediately. Prepare for engagement with the Borg."

As Oren-De finished his announcement, the comm system was suddenly cut into by the chorus of drone voices that heralded the arrival of the Borg. "We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. Your biological and technological resources will be added to our own. You will be made to service us. Resistance is futile."

Maggie looked back at her console, this time quizzically. The Borg used a standard hail that had varied little since the first encounter with the Enterprise-D over 40 years ago. Maggie had heard it hundreds of times, mostly in ship communications logs. This hail, though, had a key difference. Resources? The Borg have never demanded 'resources' before...

"Three ships decloaking directly ahead!" reported Talona.

"Onscreen!"

The bridge crew's attention flew to the viewscreen. The characteristic distortion of a cloak distorted the field of stars as three ships faded into view. Two were Klingon Birds of Prey. The third, however, was a Federation Miranda-class vessel. All three had patches of Borg technology decorating their hulls, which let off a uniquely eerie green light.

“Sir, we’re reading multiple groups of Klingon lifesigns in the area around the monastery...the Klingon ship is hailing us.” Solek reported.

“Put it onscreen...This is Captain Calvin of the starship New Orleans. Explain your purpose orbiting this planet.”

“We are here to take the ‘Vulcan’ imposter you have onboard your ship on the grounds of warcrimes against the Klingon Empire.” The captain accused. Edgar shot a look to Solek.

“And what crimes is he accused of?” Edgar asked, trying to determine if the Klingon was serious or just reaching for an excuse to interfere.

“IT is a shapeshifter! Those Undine have committed unthinkable acts against the Empire! We know the ambassador is one of them. Turn it over to us!”

“Captain, to put things lightly, our peoples are at war. On what grounds should I trust your Klingon Empire over my Federation?” Edgar vollied. “What proof do you have?”

“We do not need to justify our reasons to Starfleet pu’ta! Allow us to take the ambassador and we will spare your shuttlecraft.” The Klingon captain was shouting.

“Not without proper cause!” Edgar’s response was met with the transmission terminating promptly.

“Captain, I don’t think they liked that response...” Desmond commented from the helm. It brought Edgar to turn sharp on his heels to look at the Betazoid, moderately annoyed and surprised he had the audacity to make the comment.

“No shit, Ensign. Raise shields!”

“Too late!” Crewman Guyton screamed just before a torpedo impacted on the hull. Nearly all of the bridge crew was rocked and all but Crewman Guyton were knocked over.

“Get our shields up, Summer!”

“Working on it sir, that blast hit the main EPS conduits. We’ve lost Auxiliary power and shields.”

“Return fire; blast them out of orbit!” Edgar howled. The Red Alert Klaxon was deafening on the damaged bridge.

The New Orleans took evasive maneuvers avoiding the bird-of-prey’s photon spread. From the deflector beam, a tachyon array flew across and took down the Klingon ship's shields. Right behind it, two photon torpedoes chased the bird-of-prey until they both impacted. The Klingons were severely crippled, but continued to fire upon the New Orleans. As the ships faced each other once again, both ships fired off one more photon which hit the hull of the Klingon ship causing complete destruction. Desmond struggled to maneuver the ship, but the Klingons’ photon torpedo impacted the deflector array directly.

“Sir, the Klingon ship is destroyed. Multiple sections are reporting casualties...” Summer stated from the tactical station. Edgar grimaced a nod and looked back over the reports on his console.

“Get a tactical analysis of the surface. Calvin to Engineering...Aron, how bad is the damage down there?”

“Captain, we’ve lost deflector control, inertial dampers and structural integrity fields are on backup and emergency power. Shields are offline; we need to take weapons and main power offline to perform repairs to most of the ship.”

“Understood, Ensign...How long do you think it will take to get to a functional status?”

“At soonest, sir, four hours.” Aron-Mu stated over the comm..

“Get your repair teams moving, Shields are your first priority. Desmond, Summer: I want you and a security team to beam down to the surface and secure the abbey. Shoot to kill.” Edgar said, moving a bit of debris away from his chair.

“Aye Captain.” The two responded moving to the turbolift. Moments later they had arrived on the planet.

“Sir, I’m tracking the away team’s movement now. They’re approaching the first group of hostiles.” Solek announced as the tension on the bridge escalated.

“Can we track them onscreen?”

“No sir, satellite imaging is not functional right now. All we can do is monitor their lifesigns.”

chemkarate wrote:

Awesome! This is a really cool reptilian race! When I make my next crew, I may need to recruit one of these. I really love the specialized gender morphology concept.

Theres actually plenty of inspiration from nature here on Earth for this one. Only really big change I made were the additional genders, which, under the hive mind mentality, makes a bit of sense. Greater complexity as a species breeds greater complexity as organisms in general. Also came up with their genetic material chemistry. QuadOxyRibonucleic Acid. Instead of two nucleic acid strands, it has 4 strands twisted into the familiar helix shape. The King and Queen contribute the general chromosomal material in DNA form, which then gets combined by a special form of transcriptase into a 4 stranded form, with the additional RNA strands coming from the Thrall and Drone.

groovy.

Thank ye kindly. :-)

“Captain, Starfleet Medical has informed us they have our Borg drone in custody, all crew is accounted for and Traffic Control has given us the Go to launch; we’re just waiting on your word, sir.” Desmond said proudly sporting his official fleet uniform with the singular ensign pip. Summer stood at the tactical station not very happy with her failure.

“Ensign, the word is given.” Edgar said, taking a seat in the captains chair. Desmond returned to the console and the New Orleans undocked from the station. Once the ship had cleared the walls of the spacedock, the ship came to rest in the main traffic line.

“Sir the ship is officially out of spacedock and awaiting a heading.”

“Set a course for P’Jem, warp 9...engage.” Edgar sat back into his chair and began to relax as the New Orleans left the Sol system. Dr. Turek made his appearance on the bridge about that time and stood at a science station. Dr. Turek, please see me in my ready room. Solek you have the bridge.”

The two officers entered the bridge, leaving Desmond and Summer to look at each other confused about what was happening and who this new officer was. Solek noted the visual exchange and decided to enlighten the two, “He’s our new Chief Medical Officer.” The comment raised more questions than it answered.

Inside the ready room, Edgar felt agitated. This was the first time he had to assert any level of disciplinary action to a subordinate. He hated the entirety of it. “Sit down, Doctor.”

Turek was trying to minimize his own anxiety, but it was fairly clear he was equally agitated. “Sir if I may please request...”

“No, you need to explain why you felt the need to make that comment earlier.” Edgar ordered sitting back in his own chair, staring down his new medical officer. He had clearly put Turek on the defensive.

“Captain, I have a phobia of being in space.” Edgar pulled up Turek’s file and glazed down to the performance record. “I’m a research physician, not a triage nurse.”

“Triage nurse? What exactly do you think ship physicians do?” Edgar looked fairly irritated.

“They handle triage. Ships get attacked; the captain can take some random artifact and expose the entire crew to an unknown pathogen; people come to you about every twitch and twang in their bodies expecting some miracle cure or a painkiller to make it go away...it’s draining and distracting.” Turek argued. Edgar was close to livid. "I'd much rather deal with a research facility on a planet for long term cures instead of quick fixes."

“Doctor, let me explain some things to you, and maybe that will enlighten your opinion to what we’re dealing with here. This ship survived a Borg attack, but all senior officers were assimilated or killed...except me. Starfleet has retained my command, though I’m a mere lieutenant. As you can imagine, this ship has a lot of green officers - most are inexperienced at best - and so far the entire senior staff is comprised of ensigns and chief petty officers.” Edgar leaned forward, imposing his authority while still trying to put Turek on the level he expected. “Now if you want to wallow in pity over being stuck on this ship then I can confine you to quarters and utilize the EMH medical team for the duration of this mission. Or, you can rise to the occasion and prove your worth as a medical officer to me and Starfleet. You were the only physician Starfleet Medical could or was willing spare, and I took a chance. Now which will it be, ensign, sick bay or confined to quarters?”

“Bridge to Captain Calvin.” Edgar sighed and leaned back at Solek’s interruption.

“Go ahead Mr. Solek.” The irritation seeped from his tone.

“Sir, long range sensors are detecting a Klingon bird-of-prey in orbit around P’Jem.” Solek’s statement brought a look of surprise to both officers in the ready room.

“Understood. Go to Yellow Alert and notify Starfleet of the situation.” Edgar turned back to Turek. “Do you have an answer for me, ensign?”

Turek nodded an understanding. “I will report to sick bay, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.” Edgar said, shutting down his terminal. “Dr. Turek, understand that I need my team to cooperate and obey my orders. Can I trust that this will be the last time you’ll be in my office for acting out of line?”

“I will try to not make a habit of it...Off the record, sir, I honestly can’t say.” Turek stated. Edgar pointed his chin agressively to the door brushing Turek out of the room.

sweet - and I just found the need for a chief of security! I have to agree with others that have posted, I'm quite impressed with the creativity. I need to write up my own now!

Redwing was sitting at his desk in Medical when War'en entered. He was so absorbed in what he was reading on his computer display that he didn't even notice when War'en approached the desk. After a moment, War'en placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, can you spare a moment?

Redwing let out a surprised yelp and spun in his seat, which caused War'en to jump back. When Redwing saw who had touched him, he immediately calmed down and grinned. "Wow, sorry. I didn't even hear you come in. What's up?"

War'en glanced around before looking back at Redwing. "Well, something, actually. Do you have time to talk?"

"Yeah, of course," Redwing said, his voice adopting more of a concerned tone. "What's wrong?"

War'en took a breath and thought for a moment before he continued. "It's Captain Oren-De. I'm becoming very concerned with the way he's... acting."

"You mean how he led that away team mission back at the science outpost? Because while I agree it was definitely a bit weird for a captain to do that, you have to admit he knew what he was doing."

"No, it's not that. Hell, Shrel actually commended his skill with a phaser rifle to me. Voluntarily, even. I don't think I've heard Shrel complement anyone before."

"So what is it then?"

"It's the fact that he seems to be completely ignorant of the crew's morale and emotional state. You heard that comment during the meeting today, right? He thinks the crew is operating well, because there isn't any conflict between the old and new personnel. Meanwhile, he doesn't seem to even care how the crew is dealing with the very reason why we needed the new personnel."

Redwing nodded and let out sigh. "Yeah... I don't think he's even noticed Talona's state."

War'en shook his head. "How is she doing, by the way? I keep trying to get her alone to talk to her, but I'm pretty sure she's desperately trying to avoid that."

"Ditto. I can tell she's bottling it up and you don't need clincal psychology experience to tell you that's a recipe for disaster. But, even though I do have that experience, there's nothing I can do if she won't even start to open up."

"Actually, Dr. Redwing, you could order her to..."

"Nope, not until I see some evidence of it significantly impacting her performance. Showing signs of stress doesn't really cut it. Until I see something more substantial, I can only intervene as a friend."

"See, that's just it. Captain Jacobs would have noticed by now. He would have been calling her into his ready room to talk to her about it, if only to let her know that he cared. That man constantly had a read on how the crew was doing. Hell, when you and I started dating, he practically knew the second after our first kiss."

"Well, it was a pretty hot kiss."

War'en gave him a look. "While that is true... it doesn't change the fact that Captain Oren-De is so ignorant of this crew that he can't even tell half of it is on the verge of a breakdown and the other half is sure that he hates them. He barely even acknowledges anyone who isn't a senior officer."

"Well... yeah, that's true. However, cut him a little slack. He is an Enhasan, after all."

"So? Being an Enhasan, or any race for that matter, doesn't excuse him for treating the crew the way he does."

"No, but it does at least explain why. I mean, think about the culture he grew up in. It's a far cry from anything on Earth, Trill, or really any member planet of the Federation."

War'en's blank expression caused Redwing to look at him quizzically. "You do know what I'm talking about, right? The whole 'meritocracy' thing?"

"Well... I... haven't really had time to read up on it..."

"War'en! Are you serious!? He's your captain, and you don't even know the first thing about where he comes from!"

"Well, not all of us are as fascinated by xenography as you are!" War'en bristled.

Redwing instantly regretted the sharp tone he had taken when War'en retorted. War'en apparently did as well and took a breath. "I'm sorry. It's just... being both first officer and Chief of Engineering hasn't left me a lot of free time to look into it. I've been meaning to but... stuff keeps coming up."

Redwing stood up from his chair, placed his hand on War'en's shoulder, and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I know. Want me to give you a quick run-down? It will be just the important bullet points, and you can even stop me if I start to ramble."

"Yeah, I'd like that," War'en said, offering the other man a small smile. Redwing grinned broadly in return before moving over to a panel next to a large display that occupied one of the wall's of his office. After a few taps, the image of a verdant class M planet came into view. War'en noticed that it also had a ring, but it was much more sparse than other ring systems he had seen. Redwing motioned to the image before he began.

"This is Enhasa. It's been an allied world of the Federation for nearly a century. It can never be a full member world because its system of government violates one of the equal rights clauses of the Federation charter. Specifically, it's caste system."

War'en looked at Redwing quizzically. "What's a caste system?"

"It's a social system where the people are organized into well-structured tiers and mobility between them is practically impossible. While common in pre-warp cultures, they're absent from most space-faring civilizations. Caste systems tend to oppress a vast majority of the population, and by the time a civilization develops warp drive, that majority has usually revolted and established a more egalitarian system of government. That's why you never really hear the term tossed around. However, there are exceptions, and the Meritocracy of Enhasa is one of the most famous.

"There are two main castes in Enhasan society. The upper caste are called the 'Ya-Shin', or 'those of the sky', and the 'Udu', or 'ground-dwellers'."

War'en cocked an eyebrow. "That seems rather insulting."

"In Enhasan society, it's also very literal. With very few exceptions, the Udu live on the surface of Enhasa while the Ya-Shin reside in an expansive network of orbital stations."

The image of Enhasa blinked out and was replaced with an image of one of those orbital stations. It looked almost like the saucer section of most Starfleet ships, though significantly larger. "There are literally thousands of these spread out in orbit above the planet in a ring. In fact, they house nearly one-third of Enhasan society."

"So, which one of the castes would our captain be from?"

"He is in the Ya-Shin caste, as are the other Enhasans that serve in Starfleet. However, it's more complicated than that. The two main castes are divided and sub-divided into specific niches that specifically define an individual's role. On top of that, the entire system is determined by the central government of the Meritocracy. It is constantly evaluating every Enhasan from the moment of birth, and determining the caste and role that each will occupy based solely on their aptitudes and skills; hence the 'meritocracy' name. Enhasan society is regulated and controlled by its government to a degree that is unheard of in nearly every other culture the Federation has been in contact with."

"That sounds... awful, to be honest."

"Well, it's not my cup of tea either. When I was a kid, no one would have even guessed I'd become a doctor, let alone a Starfleet one. However, it does explain a lot of the captain's actions. Think about it, War. He comes from a society where everyone is organized by skill. On top of that, it's a caste system, so that in turn determines who he socializes with. He just hasn't been brought up to talk or even empathize with those who aren't his immediate peers. The problem is that, on a starship... there's not really any peer to the captain."

War frowned as he turned over all of this information in his head. Taking what Redwing had told him to its logical conclusion painted a very bleak picture for the crew's relationship with its new captain. Not only would Oren-De be adverse to socializing with any members of the crew, it might actually be impossible for him to do so. In War'en's eyes, that was exactly the wrong type of captain that the crew needed right now.

"No wonder he seems so ignorant of everyone else."

Redwing nodded. "Yup. On the plus side, Enhasans are the best organizers and delegators in the galaxy. They have a knack for immediately determining a person's abilities and the job that is best-suited to them."

"That's not very useful when the crew is too frightened or depressed to function."

"Well... War, that's where you come in."

"Huh?"

"You're the first officer. If the captain is missing something, it's your job to bring it to his attention, right?"

War'en nodded. He had known for some time that he was going to have to speak with Oren-De about this. It didn't mean he was looking forward to it, though.

"Thanks. I think I know what I need to do."

Redwing grinned. "No problem. After all, someone's got to he--"

He was suddenly interrupted by red lights and klaxons going off around the medical bay. Redwing and War'en looked around in alarm at the sudden outburst from the ship, which was followed momentarily by the sound of Oren-De's voice on the comm system.

"Report to battle stations immediately. Prepare for engagement wit--"

This time it was Oren-De's turn to be interrupted. For a second, there was only white noise. However, the dissonant chorus of cold voices that followed sent a chill down the spines of everyone on the ship.

"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. Your biological and technological resources will be added to our own. You will be made to service us. Resistance is futile."

Use your keyboard's Print Screen key; it automatically doesn't include the interface.

how would one take a screenshot?

I've tried looking through the controls, but i couldn't find a screenshot button.

:-/

Just for the bugged NCC...



My NCC displays fine on my nacelles, but top and bottom of the saucer just show this. :-D

I'll just link to my other favourite as it's a **SPOILER**:

http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii134/PjhN/screenshot_2010-02-15-01-14-51.jpg

Awesome! This is a really cool reptilian race! When I make my next crew, I may need to recruit one of these. I really love the specialized gender morphology concept.

Kre'Torans

BASIC INFO
Home Planet: Kre'Torana
Government: The Supreme Imana of the People (matriarchal monarchy)
Population: 42 billion over 8 planets
Tech Status: Warp-capable
Affiliation: Federation Ally
Race Traits: Physical Strength (All others are negotiable)

PROFILE
Biology
Kre'Torans are a semi-reptilian humanoid race. The biology of Kre'Torans is most greatly signified by their sexual morphology. The species, uniquely, has 6 sexual morphisms: Queen, a fertile female; King, a fertile male; Queen-thrall, an infertile female whos physiology allows her to carry the fertilized eggs in specialized egg sacks; Drone, an infertile female whos specialized tongue carries special enzymes that allow the egg to hatch; Cantor, a special infertile female who exudes special pheromones which are highly pleasurable to all Kre'Torans and determines the morphism of the egg; Soldier, a specialized large sized infertile male who protects the nest. Queens are highly specialized in their physiology. Their bodies are nearly 50 meters in length, almost entirely made up by the huge egg sack, from which fertile eggs are extracted to be placed in Queen-Thralls. Queens are also practically immortal, however, this is limited by the number of eggs they possess. Once they are out of eggs, they live only a few weeks and then die.

Another unique aspect of their physiology is their usage of pure carbon in a crystalline metabolic reaction. As a Kre'Toran gets older, the body begins to exude highly organized carbon chains into diamond formations across the forehead and in a crest over the neck. These protections evolved to defend against the many hostile predators that still infest the crystal forests of their home planet.

Culture
Kre'Toran culture completely revolves around the nests. Some nests approach the size of the largest human cities on Earth. The Great Queen Imana acts as de-facto leader of the species. Most Queens defer to her as she is the eldest among them. Very few know how old she truly is, but it is rumored that she is well over one hundred thousand years old. In her extreme age, she rarely moves from her massive throne chamber, but she entertains visitors constantly.

The Kre'Toran Drones and Soldiers are the ones most readily seen outside the nests. Soldiers possess massive strength, which has caused them to be in great demand for Federation commanders in Starfleet. When Kre'Torana was first visited by the Federation in 2407, they were met by a delegation that included Imana in a special yacht she had designed for the occasion. The Federation scouts were surprised she was as knowledgeable about the Federation as she was, only later finding out that Queens have massive telepathic abilities allowing them to view events across several light years. A treaty was established within hours, and Drones and Soldiers were provided to Starfleet as a courtesy.