COMPILE_TERMINAL_VIEW
Starbase Freedom
Meanwhile back at the Ranch 2026-04-01
==============================================================================
MISSION LOG: MEANWHILE BACK AT THE RANCH
STARDATE RANGE: 2446.10.16 - 2446.10.20
==============================================================================
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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DAY 1
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-1957) Dr. Tom Ashford Chief Petty Officer
( STARBASE FREEDOM- Module 4, level 11- Medical Plaza - Dr. Tom Ashford,
Chief Petty officer- 1957)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: ( 1-2021, 2032) Dr. Tom Ashford, Chief Petty officer
( STARBASE FREEDOM- Module 5, Promenade - Dr. Tom Ashford, Chief Petty
officer- 2021)
( Module 4, Level 11- Medical Plaza- 2032)
( Reply not needed , but always welcome )
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2041) Dr. Tom Ashford Chief Petty Officer
(STARBASE FREEDOM - Module 4, Level 11 - Dr. Tom Ashford, Chief Petty
Officer - 2041)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2050, 2057) Dr. Tom Ashford, Chief Petty officer
(Starbase Freedom - Module 4, Level 11, Medical Plaza - Dr. Tom Ashford,
Chief Petty Officer - 2050)
(Starbase Freedom, Module 5, Level 15 - 2057)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2238) Security Officer, Lieutenant Xotek
(STARBASE FREEDOM- Module 5 - Security Officer, Lieutenant Xotek - 2218)
(Starbase Freedom — Module 5 Promenade Patrol)
(Level 14 — Promenade)
(Level 15 — Promenade)
(Level 16 — Promenade)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2240) CSec - Lt. Hank Samuels
(Starbase Freedom - Level 16 - Promenade - CSec - Lt. Hank Samuels - 2240)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2244) CSec - Lt. Hank Samuels & Sec. Lt. Xotek
(Starbase Freedom - Level 16 - Promenade - CSec - Lt. Hank Samuels & Sec.
Lt. Xotek - 2244)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2350) Computer Systems Engineer, Lieutenant Zot
(STARBASE FREEDOM- Module 3, Level 9, Personal Quarters- Computer Systems
Engineer, Lieutenant Zot- 2350)
DAY 3
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (3-1855) Lt. Cal Dogan & Romulan Exchange Officer Centurion Delexa
(USS Hades - Deck 9 - Nine and Dine- CSEC - Lt. Cal Dogan & Romulan
Exchange Officer Centurion Delexa- 1855)
DAY 4
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: =?utf-8?q?=284_-_1519=29_Special_Agent_T=E2=80=99xe?= =?utf-8?q?n_Toks?=
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge – SFI/TI- T’Xen Toks- 1519)
(Reply Solice, any)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1523) Commander Quinna Solice
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge – Commander Quinna Solice - 1523)
(Reply Adams, Green, Toks, Weston)
(Reply Adams, Green, Toks, Weston)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 15.24 LT Raven Green)
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge LT Raven Green - 15.24)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1524) Engineering Officer - Ensign Wednesday Adams
(USS Auberjonois - Corridor- Engineering Officer - Ensign Wednesday Adams -
1524)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1526) Commander Casem Leal
(Planetfall Compound - Nathan’s Treehouse - Mayor/FO - Commander Casem Leal
- 1526)
(reply Gunther, any)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1526) Commander Solice and SFI FD Michael Weston
(Planet Auberjonois - 1 KM from Compound - XO Commander Solice and SFI FD
Michael Weston - 1526)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1527) Commander Quinna Solice
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge Commander Quinna Solice - 15.27)
(Reply Adams, Green, Toks, Weston)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1528) SFI DD - Michael Weston
(USS Auberjonois - Deck 1- Bridge - SFI DD - Michael Weston - 1528)
(reply Solice, Toks)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: =?utf-8?q?=284_-_1528=29_Special_Agent_T=E2=80=99xe?= =?utf-8?q?n_Toks?=
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge – SFI/TI- T’Xen Toks- 1528)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: HADESRPG: (4 - 1530) CO, Captain Keira Merek
(USS Hades - Bridge - CO, Captain Keira Merek - 1530)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1531) Commander Quinna Solice
(Planet Auberjonois - XO Commander Solice -- 1531)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1531) Lt. Mike Solice, Commander Quinna Solice, Lt. Michale Weston, Captain Alexis Swenson and Casem Lea
(Planetfall Compound - Medical Habitat - CMO- Lt. Mike Solice, Commander
Quinna Solice, Lt. Michale Weston, Captain Alexis Swenson and Casem Leal -
1531)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1532) SFI DD - Michael Weston
(Planet Auberjonois - Main Compound - Solice Habitat- SFI DD - Michael
Weston - 1532)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1535) Commander Quinna Solice and Michael Weston
(USS Auberjonois - Bridge – Commander Quinna Solice and Michael Weston -
1535)
(USS Auberjonois - Bridge – Commander Quinna Solice and Michael Weston -
1535)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1550) Commander Quinna Solice
(USS Auberjonois - Bridge – Commander Quinna Solice - 1550)
DAY 5
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (5 - 08.00 LT Raven Green)
(USS Auberjonois - Transporter room LT Raven Green 08.00)
- SBFREEDOM-RPG: (5 - 08.01 LT Raven Green)
(Planet Auberjonois At the force field LT Raven Green - 08.01)
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-1957) Dr. Tom Ashford Chief Petty Officer
From: emarderok2 at gmail.com (Wayne Fromm)
Date: Mon, 6 Apr 2026 10:14:23 -0400
Mission: Meanwhile back at the Ranch
Day: 1
Stardate: 2446.10.16
( STARBASE FREEDOM- Module 4, level 11- Medical Plaza - Dr. Tom Ashford,
Chief Petty officer- 1957)
The Medical Plaza never truly rested.
People moved in steady currents through the wide corridor—officers in
uniform, enlisted crew with purpose in their stride, civilians clutching
datapads or nursing minor injuries. Voices overlapped, announcements chimed
softly overhead, and somewhere in the distance a medical cart hummed past
with quiet urgency it reminded Tom of something.
Not in structure, not in sound, but in flow.
Once, he had been part of a current like that—constant, efficient, without
interruption. Movement without hesitation. Purpose without question.
Tom Ashford was born on Stardate 2363.02.10. He was only 11 years old when
he and his parents were ambushed by the Borg Collective in 2374. Tom was
separated from his parents and was assimilated into the collective. Tom had
spent 10 years as an active borg drone.
In 2384 Tom, known then as Five of Eighty-Eight, Surgical Assimilation
Adjunct of Unimatrix 12, was placed in biological stasis aboard a Borg
sphere, the sphere was one of 6 spheres that were being sent to various
predetermined locations around the galaxy. Something happened to their
systems that knocked them off course, leaving them adrift. With the sphere
running on minimal power, life support was eliminated from 44 of the 88
drones aboard the sphere. Eventually the surviving 44 drones were cut off
from the collective altogether.
In 2437 the sphere was located by a Vulcan research vessel. Only 11 drones
were still connected to life support and in stasis, Tom was one of the
remaining 11 drones. There were no signals, no transmissions. These drones
were disconnected from the collective and each other….
He stepped into his office on Starbase Freedom. The door slid shut behind
him, sealing out the noise of the plaza.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
The silence felt different now.
Not the hollow, endless quiet of disconnection.
Not the oppressive stillness that followed the absence of the
Collective.This silence was… contained.
The room was simple. A desk, a wall display, organized storage, and a
viewport that framed the stars beyond Starbase Freedom. Real stars. Not
projections. Not shared vision.
He let out a slow breath, his shoulders easing just slightly.
“Alright,” he murmured to himself.
It wasn’t a report. It wasn’t a function.
It was an acknowledgment. His first day had already been full. Three
patients—minor cases. A fractured wrist from a cargo mishap. A plasma burn
that would heal cleanly. A laceration that responded well to dermal
regeneration.
Four consultations—questions, uncertainties, small fears that had nothing
to do with injury and everything to do with reassurance.
He had answered them all.
Not just with accuracy, but with presence.
That still surprised him, sometimes.
He moved to the desk and sat, settling into the chair with a quiet
familiarity he hadn’t expected to come so easily. His left hand, covered by
a fitted black glove, rested lightly on the surface.
The glove wasn’t about concealment.
It was about control, about choice.
There had been a time when that hand what it had been was not his. When
every movement served something larger, something that did not ask
permission. Now, even something as small as covering it… belonged to him.
The left side of his face and neck still covered with Borg components,
remnants of what he once was. His left eye, lit red, a soft flow.
He activated the terminal. Reports populated the screen instantly—patient
logs, treatment summaries, consultation notes awaiting final review.He
began typing.
“Patient stable. Recommend follow-up in forty-eight hours…”
His voice was soft, almost conversational as he worked. Not dictation just
a habit he had picked up. A way of grounding thought into language.
There had been no language like this before.
There had been data. Direct. Absolute. Without tone. Without interpretation.
No hesitation, no warmth.
His fingers paused briefly over the console.
For just a moment, a memory surfaced—not visual, not fully formed. A
sensation more than anything else. The certainty of knowing everything and
nothing at the same time. Of acting without deciding.
Then it passed, it always passed now. He continued typing.
A soft chime interrupted him.
“Yeah?” he called, glancing toward the door.
It slid open just enough for a nurse to lean in.
“Doctor Ashford?”
He looked up, offering a small, easy expression.
“That’s me.”
She smiled faintly. “Just wanted to say—good work today. You’ve already got
people asking for you.”
There was no surge of pride. No spike of surprise, just a quiet recognition.
“…Thank you,” he said.
“Welcome to Freedom, Doctor Ashford,” she added before the door slid shut
again.
He sat there for a moment after she left
It still felt… new, the politeness of it all.Not the responsibility. That,
he understood.
The trust behind it.
There had been no trust in the Collective.
Only function, only inevitability.Here It was given and expected. He looked
down at his gloved hand and flexed his fingers slowly. The motion was
smooth, deliberate. His.
Then he returned to the console.
“…Continue,” he said quietly.
The rest of the reports went quickly. Not rushed—just completed with a
steady rhythm that felt natural now, not imposed, but earned.
When he finished, he reviewed the final entry, then added his signature:
*Dr. Thomas Ashford*
*Chief Petty Officer*
*Starbase Freedom Medical*
He leaned back slightly, eyes drifting toward the viewport.Stars stretched
endlessly beyond the station, silent, distant, and free.
For a brief moment, he remembered what it had been like to see through many
eyes at once. To perceive space not as distance, but as territory. As
something to be crossed, claimed, assimilated. That perspective felt…
foreign now, unwanted even
He exhaled again, softer this time.
“…This will do,” he said to himself.
And there was no doubt in it, no hesitation, no second voice. Just Tom
sitting in his office.
On his first day, living the life he had chosen.
( Reply none needed but always welcome)
( Posted By Rob)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: ( 1-2021, 2032) Dr. Tom Ashford, Chief Petty officer
From: emarderok2 at gmail.com (Wayne Fromm)
Date: Sun, 12 Apr 2026 13:58:59 -0400
Mission: Meanwhile back at the Ranch
Day: 1
Stardate: 2446.10.16
( STARBASE FREEDOM- Module 5, Promenade - Dr. Tom Ashford, Chief Petty
officer- 2021)
The Promenade was alive in a way Medical never was. It wasn’t urgent, it
wasn’t structured. Voices overlapping, laughter spilling from open
doorways, music threading through the air from somewhere unseen. The scent
of food lingered everywhere, rich and varied, unfamiliar in combinations
that would have once meant nothing to him.
Tom moved through it at an easy pace.
Not scanning, not assessing, just looking.
He had come here for something simple,
dinner. That alone still carried weight—not as a necessity, but as a
choice. He paused briefly near two of the larger establishments. Rick’s
Café was full, voices carrying out into the corridor, every table occupied.
For the Trill of It was no different, a small crowd gathered even outside,
waiting for space to open.
Tom glanced between them.
“Not for me.” he murmured quietly.
There was no frustration in the words. Just observation. He turned to move
on then stopped. Two Ferengi passed him,mid-conversation.His ocular implant
activated automatically. Species: 180.
The classification came and went in an instant, barely registering as
thought.
What held his attention was the voice.
“I’m telling you, it aches,” one of them said, clutching the side of his
head. “You ever had your lobe feel like it’s going to fall off?”
Tom turned, not sharply, not abruptly. but
deliberately.
“…Excuse me,” he said.
Both Ferengi stopped, looking at him with immediate suspicion.
“…Yes?” one asked.
Tom stepped closer, calm, measured.
“You are experiencing localized pain in the ear.”
The Ferengi blinked.
“…Yes,” he said slowly. “How did you—”
Tom didn’t answer. His gaze had already shifted, focusing.
His implant engaged again, but this time with purpose.
Vitals streamed through his perception subtle, layered.Elevated body
temperature, low-grade fever. Then a localized spike…The ear.
Tom’s expression tightened just slightly.
“You are in the early stages of an infection,” he said.
The second Ferengi frowned. “Infection?”
Tom nodded once.
“Your tympanic region is inflamed. The temperature differential indicates
localized bacterial activity.” a brief pause.
“Tympanic Tickle Infection.”
Both Ferengi stiffened.
“…No,” the first one said, shaking his head. “No, no”
“Yes,” Tom replied calmly. “It will worsen.”
They exchanged a look. Concern replaced annoyance almost instantly.
“…How bad?” the second asked.
Tom met their eyes evenly.
“Severe lobe degradation is possible if untreated.”
That was enough.
“…We’re going,” the first one said immediately.
Tom gave a small nod.
“Follow me….”
( Module 4, Level 11- Medical Plaza- 2032)
The shift from Promenade to Sickbay was immediate. Movement became
structured, the environment sharpened into purpose.
Tom guided them in, gesturing toward the exam area.
“Have a seat.”
They complied quickly, tension still visible.
Tom worked with practiced ease. He scanned the affected ear, confirming
what he already knew.
“Early-stage tympanic tickle infection,” he said. “Localized. Treatable.”
Relief flickered across both of them.
He prepared a hypospray.
“This will reduce inflammation and neutralize the infection.”
The first Ferengi flinched slightly as it was administered—then blinked in
surprise.
“…Oh,” he said. “That’s better.”
Tom nodded.
“It will continue to improve.”
He stepped back slightly, then added, with calm clarity:
“You must avoid oo-mox for at least seven days.”
Both Ferengi froze.
“…Seven?” one of them said, horrified.
“Yes,” Tom replied without hesitation. “Continued stimulation will result
in severe damage to the lobes.”
They looked at each other again—this time with deep, mutual understanding.
“…We will abstain,” the first one said, solemn.
Tom inclined his head.
“Sounds good, but you're lying .”
He handed them additional hyposprays.
“If symptoms return, administer immediately.”
The second Ferengi accepted them carefully.
“Doctor,” he said, more serious now, “you have saved us from… significant
loss.”
Tom paused briefly, then nodded.
“You are welcome.”
The first Ferengi reached into his coat and produced strips of gold-pressed
latinum.
“A token of appreciation.”
Tom looked at them.
Then shook his head.
“No.”
They blinked.
“…No?” the second repeated.
“No,” Tom said again, simply. “It is not necessary.”
For a moment, they just stared at him.
Then they laughed, not mocking.
“…You are a strange one,” the first said.
Tom considered that.
“So I've been told..”
They laughed again, lighter now.
“Thank you, Doctor,” the second added.
They both inclined their heads slightly before turning and leaving, their
conversation already shifting back to normal.
The room grew quiet again.
Tom stood there for a moment after they were gone.He looked down at his
gloved hand, flexing his fingers once.
Then he exhaled softly.
“…Dinner,” he said.
And turned toward the exit. Not as something reacting to a problem, but as
someone who had solved one and was free to continue his evening.
( Reply not needed , but always welcome )
( Posted Rob)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2041) Dr. Tom Ashford Chief Petty Officer
From: emarderok2 at gmail.com (Wayne Fromm)
Date: Sun, 12 Apr 2026 19:42:27 -0400
Mission: Meanwhile back at the Ranch
Day: 1
Stardate: 2446.10.16
(STARBASE FREEDOM - Module 4, Level 11 - Dr. Tom Ashford, Chief Petty
Officer - 2041)
Tom had just stepped out of his office, the soft hiss of the door sealing
behind him as he turned toward the exit of sickbay. The station’s ambient
hum greeted him steady, predictable, and comforting. His intent was simple:
a brief walk, perhaps a meal, and a moment to reset between duties.
However, as he passed the junction leading away from the medical labs, a
sharp, metallic bang echoed down the corridor behind him.
Tom stopped instantly. His head tilted a fraction as his auditory
processors isolated the sound, replaying it with precise clarity. It had
come from the direction of Medical Lab 3. A second, smaller reverberation
followed the sound of something striking duranium and sliding.
He turned without hesitation. His boots carried him back down the corridor
with controlled urgency; his posture was straight and his pace efficient,
yet not panicked. As he rounded the bend toward Lab 3, a sudden mechanical
clank rang out overhead. A ceiling hatch of a maintenance access panel
jerked open with a protesting squeal, and a body dropped through. The
Klingon woman fell hard onto the deck, her shoulder striking first before
the rest of her followed with a heavy thud. Tools clattered down after her,
metal instruments skidding across the corridor floor.
Tom was moving before she fully landed. He reached her side in seconds,
lowering himself with precise control.
“Hold still,” he said calmly, his voice even and clinical. His optical
implant flickered faintly as it activated, scanning her form for thermal
readings, skeletal integrity, and internal vitals.
She groaned, pushing herself up with a low, irritated breath. “I do not
require…” she began, but her words cut short as she reached for stability.
Tom extended his arm, and she took it without hesitation.
With a firm grip, she pulled herself to her feet, her strength evident.
Once upright, she steadied herself and exhaled sharply. Her posture
straightened immediately, pride overriding any momentary disorientation,
and then she looked at him. Her eyes narrowed slightly as they traced the
left side of his face the unmistakable Borg implants and the pale metal
integrated seamlessly into his flesh. The faint glow of his optical sensor
reflected in her gaze.
For a brief moment, she said nothing. Tom’s sensor completed its scan.
Species identified: Hybrid. Klingon (Species 5008) / Vulcan (Species 3259).
Cardiovascular rhythm: elevated but stabilizing.
No fractures. No internal trauma detected.
“Your condition is stable,” Tom stated plainly. “No immediate medical
intervention required.”
She blinked once, still studying him. There was no fear in her expression,
only unmistakable surprise and curiosity. “I have seen drones before,” she
said slowly, her voice carrying the rough edge of Klingon cadence tempered
by Vulcan control. “But never this close.”
Tom did not react to the comment. Instead, he reached down and began
collecting the scattered tools a scanner, a micro-spanner, and a diagnostic
probe. He retrieved each one and offered them back to her without ceremony.
“What were you doing in the maintenance conduit above Medical Lab 3?” he
asked.
She accepted the tools, brushing dust from one with the side of her hand.
“Tracing a faulty power relay,” she replied. “The diagnostic grid indicated
irregular fluctuations. I believed the issue originated above the lab.” She
glanced briefly upward at the now-open hatch, her jaw tightening. “I
misjudged the structural integrity of the panel.”
Tom stepped past her and, without asking, reached up to the hatch. He
pressed the panel firmly back into place, ensuring the locking mechanisms
seated correctly with a solid click. He dropped his arm back to his side.
“It will not open unintentionally again,” he said.
She watched him for a moment longer, then gave a small, approving nod. She
crouched to retrieve the last of her tools and rose once more, squaring her
shoulders. When she spoke again, her tone shifted to a more formal register.
“I am Ensign K’Vara,” she said. “Engineering division. Assigned to systems
diagnostics aboard the station.” Her gaze returned to him, sharper this
time assessing him. “And you are clearly not a standard medical officer.”
Tom met her gaze evenly. “Chief Petty Officer Tom Ashford,” he replied.
“Medical.”
K’Vara’s brow ridges lifted slightly, showing a hint of intrigue.
“…Medical,” she repeated, glancing once more at the Borg implant. Then,
with the faintest hint of dry amusement, she added, “This station continues
to exceed expectations.”
The corridor fell quiet again as the disruption faded into the steady
rhythm of station life. But something had shifted; this encounter was not
routine, and both of them knew it.
(Reply none needed but always welcome)
( Posted by Rob)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2050, 2057) Dr. Tom Ashford, Chief Petty officer
From: emarderok2 at gmail.com (Wayne Fromm)
Date: Sun, 12 Apr 2026 20:35:40 -0400
Mission: Meanwhile back at the Ranch
Day: 1
Stardate: 2446.10.16
(Starbase Freedom - Module 4, Level 11, Medical Plaza - Dr. Tom Ashford,
Chief Petty Officer - 2050)
K’Vara did not return to the maintenance conduits. Instead, she fell into
step beside him. Tom Ashford had already resumed his path out of the
medical plaza, his pace steady and purposeful, when he noticed without
turning that she was still there. Her footsteps were lighter than most
Klingons—measured and almost quiet—but his auditory sensors tracked them
easily.
“Where are you headed?” she asked, not as a query but as an observation.
“To the Promenade for dinner,” Tom replied.
“I will accompany you,” she said.
Tom gave a small nod, accepting this without comment. They walked together
through the corridor, the sterile lighting of the medical sector gradually
giving way to the warmer, ambient tones leading toward the station’s
central hub. Personnel passed them intermittently, some offering quick
glances at Tom’s implants or K’Vara’s distinctive ridges and subtly sharper
Vulcan features, but neither seemed concerned.
K’Vara, however, was focused entirely on him. Her eyes drifted openly to
the left side of his face—the optical implant, the faint seams where metal
met skin, and the sheer precision of the technology.
“It is remarkably integrated,” she said at last, her tone carrying clear
fascination. “Your optical implant… does it interface directly with your
neural pathways, or does it operate as an external augmentation layer?”
Tom glanced at her briefly. Most people avoided asking. “Direct interface,”
he replied. “Cortical node linkage. Real-time processing.”
Her eyes lit with interest. “Incredible,” she murmured. “And biological
integration? Does your body reject it at all?”
“Occasionally,” Tom answered.
She tilted her head slightly, leaning closer with unmistakable curiosity.
“Skin irritation?”
“Yes,” Tom said. “Localized inflammation at the dermal interface. It is
manageable.”
“How?” she asked.
“I use a medicated ointment as needed.”
She nodded, absorbing the information with genuine engagement, as though
committing it to memory for later analysis. “A simple solution for a
complex integration issue.” There was no judgment in her voice—only
admiration.
They reached the turbolift. The doors parted with a soft chime, and they
stepped inside together. The enclosed space was quiet for a moment.
“Promenade,” Tom stated. The lift began to move.
K’Vara shifted her weight, her hands loosely clasped behind her back in an
almost Vulcan posture, though the restless energy in her stance betrayed
something more animated. “You were part of the Collective,” she said,
turning her gaze back to him. Not hesitant or cautious, just curious.
“No, I did this to myself out of boredom,” Tom said, looking at her. “I'm
joking. Yes, I was part of the Collective. I figured that much was obvious.”
K’Vara laughed a little. “I have studied Borg technology extensively,” she
continued. “From an engineering standpoint, it is unparalleled. The
efficiency, the adaptability, the seamless integration of organic and
synthetic systems.” She glanced at him again, her expression softening.
“But I have never spoken to someone who experienced it.”
Tom did not respond immediately.
(Starbase Freedom, Module 5, Level 15 - 2057)
The turbolift doors opened. The Promenade greeted them with voices,
movement, and color, the hum of activity replacing the clinical quiet of
the medical sector. Without discussion, they stepped out together.
“Does it hurt?” she asked as they walked.
Tom looked at her again, this time a fraction longer. “You sure do ask a
lot of questions. The short answer is: it's not comfortable. Thankfully, I
do not remember the process of my assimilation.”
She absorbed his answer in silence, her expression softening with empathy.
They approached a restaurant along the Promenade. The space was moderately
busy, filled with Starfleet personnel and civilians. Warm lighting
reflected off polished surfaces, and a low murmur of conversation filled
the air.
Tom slowed as he approached the entrance. K’Vara did not stop; instead, she
looked at him. “I am hungry,” she said plainly. “May I join you?”
There was no awkwardness in the request. Just honesty. Tom considered for a
moment. “Yes.”
They entered and were guided to a table. The surface illuminated as they
sat, the interface activating instantly with menus cascading into view as
soft holographic displays. K’Vara leaned forward, scanning the options.
“This interface is efficient,” she noted. “Minimal delay. High
responsiveness.”
Tom selected his meal. “Steak. Medium. Baked potato.”
K’Vara made her selection with a bit more enthusiasm. “Cheeseburger. Fries.”
Moments later, the center of the table shimmered as the built-in replicator
engaged. Their meals materialized seamlessly, steam rising as the scent of
food filled the space. K’Vara’s eyes widened slightly. “I will never lose
appreciation for that,” she said.
Tom reached for his utensils, and for a moment, they ate in silence.
“What was it like?” she asked again, more quietly. “The Collective.”
Tom paused, setting his fork down. “It is difficult to describe. There is
no individuality. No separation. Every thought is shared. Every action is
directed. You are aware, but not in control. There is no silence. No
privacy. Only... purpose.”
She leaned back, processing that. “That sounds… overwhelming.”
“Yes, looking back, it was.”
A brief pause settled between them before Tom spoke again. “You are a
hybrid. Klingon and Vulcan.”
“Correct,” K’Vara answered.
Tom studied her. “Your behavioral patterns do not fully align with either
species.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “I get that often. My mother is a Vulcan
scientist—very traditional. My father is a Klingon engineer who designs
structural systems for deep-space vessels. I suppose I inherited the least
expected traits from both.”
“You do not pursue logic?” Tom asked.
“I understand it,” she said. “I just don’t feel obligated to live by it.”
“And you do not pursue honor through combat?”
She gave a small shrug. “I prefer solving problems to creating them. I like
understanding how things work… including you.”
“There is nothing about me that is hard to figure out,” Tom said. “I eat,
drink, sleep, and breathe. Many people on this Starbase have cybernetic
enhancements—an eye, a limb, an organ. The difference is the Collective.
They lost a part of their body; I lost myself. I lost the child I was when
I was assimilated.”
“Do you remember your life before?” K’Vara asked.
“No. My first memory was on stardate 2374.06.19. I was part of the
Collective, aware…”
“2374?” K’Vara asked. “When were you born?”
“I was told I was born on stardate 2363.05.30. I was assimilated at age 11
and served 10 years as an active drone before being placed in biological
stasis until stardate 2437.01.15.”
“That makes you 83 years old, but you don't look a day over…”
“Biologically, I am 31." Tom remarked.
K’Vara shook her head in disbelief. “What about your family?”
Tom looked at her. “I'd prefer not to talk about that.”
“I understand,” she replied.
(Reply none needed but always welcome)
( Posted by Rob)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2238) Security Officer, Lieutenant Xotek
From: emarderok2 at gmail.com (Wayne Fromm)
Date: Thu, 2 Apr 2026 17:48:36 -0400
Mission: Meanwhile back at the Ranch
Day: 1
Stardate: 2446.10.16
(STARBASE FREEDOM- Module 5 - Security Officer, Lieutenant Xotek - 2218)
Lieutenant Xotek, a Reman security officer who had transferred to Starbase
Freedom just 7 days prior from DS15. He was Reman but was born and raised
on Betazed, his mother and father had moved there some years before he was
born. He was tall, 6’5 and of a slender build, weighing 210 pounds.
Xotek had been assigned to the security team rotation for module 5 of
Starbase Freedom. The module that many turned to for entertainment and
relaxation. Xotek had steadily found himself as another moving part on the
machine that was Starbase Freedom…
(Starbase Freedom — Module 5 Promenade Patrol)
Module 5 never slept, It breathed.
Three levels of promenade space rose in layered tiers around a vast open
atrium—walkways, storefronts, and suspended lighting structures stretching
upward into a soft artificial sky. Voices overlapped in a constant
hum—laughter, bargaining, music, the distant clatter of dishes and
glassware. It was not chaos,but it was close and it was Xotek’s
responsibility.
(Level 14 — Promenade)
Lieutenant Xotek moved along the outer curve of Level 14, boots striking
the deck with quiet, even rhythm. His black and gold-trimmed Starfleet
uniform sat clean against his tall frame, posture straight, and composed.
To his left, the soft pulse of sound spilled from WKRP on Freedom, the
music relay station. Strange harmonic tones—alien instruments, layered
frequencies—drifted into the corridor like a living thing.
Further ahead, the shop “An Ear for Music” displayed a rotating arrangement
of instruments: crystalline strings, curved wind devices, something that
hummed without being touched. Xotek didn’t slow, he observed, not the
objects, the people.
A Bolian vendor laughing too loudly. A pair of travelers in a hushed
argument. A child darting between legs before being pulled back by a
parent, normal, all of it and yet as Xotek passed, conversations softened
without breaking. Shoulders lowered, movements eased. No one announced it,
no one pointed, but the tension bent around him like light around a star.
He paused briefly outside “Just for the Trill of It”, the bar operated by
Gervane Jux.
Inside, the atmosphere was dense, conversation layered over dim lighting,
glasses clinking, a low murmur of shared stories. The kind of place where
things could turn quickly, given the wrong spark.
Xotek stood there for a moment not intruding,
just present
Inside, a dispute at the bar—two patrons leaning a little too close, voices
edging upward and then…it didn’t.
One of them exhaled, leaned back, shook his head.“Forget it.” The other
nodded.The moment passed and Xotek moved on.
(Level 15 — Promenade)
A turbolift carried him downward.
Level 15 opened wider—less dense, more open spacing between storefronts.
The flow of traffic was steady but not congested.
Here, the promenade felt… easier.
He stepped out and continued his patrol.
To his right, a shop filled with layered fabrics—off-world clothing in
colors and textures not native to any one species. A group of travelers
examined garments, their voices light. Ahead, the familiar signage of
Bagel’s Bagels caught his eye. The scent carried before the name did—warm,
baked, simple,human, grounding. A line had formed, someone laughed. Someone
complained about the wait, someone else didn’t mind at all.Xotek observed
without judgment.
Across the way, the cluttered interior of “Antiques and Acquisitions”, run
by the Ferengi Joanz, shimmered with too many objects and not enough order.
Trinkets, relics, artifacts—some genuine, some not.
Joanz himself stood at the entrance, already mid-negotiation with a
customer who clearly didn’t realize they were losing
Xotek paused at the railing. From here, all three levels were visible.
Movement flowed like currents. People ascending, descending, gathering,
dispersing, it was a system, unwritten, uncontrolled, and yet it held
together.
(Level 16 — Promenade)
Level 16 was quieter.
More space between people. More room to breathe. Xotek stepped out into the
softer lighting of the lower promenade.
Rick’s Café sat along the curve, its warm interior lighting spilling
outward. A few patrons sat in quiet conversation, drinks untouched for long
stretches as words carried more weight than anything on the table. Not
every place needed noise. Nearby, a jewelry store displayed softly glowing
pieces of alien gemstones suspended in low-grav fields, rotating slowly
like captured stars.Further along, open spaces offered seating and
stillness. A couple sat in silence, simply watching the levels above.
Xotek walked the length of the level.
No incidents, no disturbances, no raised voices. He returned to the central
overlook.
Hands clasped lightly behind his back.
Watching, below him, Module 5 lived.Trade,conversation, conflict—brief,
contained, passing.Peace was not forced, but maintained and through it all
he moved within it.Not controlling it, not dominating it just…steady.
A young Betazoid child stopped near him, looking up for a moment, the child
just stood there then the child spoke.
“Mom says people feel loud,” the child said, without prompting. “But you
don’t.”
Xotek looked down slightly. The child didn’t seem afraid, just
curious.“That’s good,” Xotek said. The child nodded once, satisfied, and
ran back toward their parents. Xotek turned and resumed his route, boots
steady, eyes alert, presence unchanged. Module 5 did not need a hero, It
needed balance.
( Reply none needed but always welcome.)
( Posted By Rob )
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2240) CSec - Lt. Hank Samuels
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Fri, 3 Apr 2026 10:58:40 -0700
Mission: Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch
Day: 1
Stardate: 2446.10.16
(Starbase Freedom - Level 16 - Promenade - CSec - Lt. Hank Samuels - 2240)
Hank spent a great deal of time and energy monitoring the activities at
Rick’s Cafe. At first glance one might consider it to be a more elegant
eating establishment. The dim lightning and the live music of the small
band gave it an atmosphere of culture and class. However, the chief of
security knew that there was a more seedier side to the business.
He was fairly certain that there was an underground gambling establishment
hiding in the back rooms of the cafe. He had not been able to provide
solid evidence to prove that, but his certainty was still there. The El
Aurian had spent a long lifetime watching people and making specific
observations. It was what made him good at his job. Observing Rick’s, and
its proprietor, Sam Berger, left him with an uneasy feeling.
As if on cue, Berger stepped out of the establishment. Hank had done a deep
dive into the background of the human bar owner. His physique and demeanor
showed the life man had led a series of criminal endeavors. He had spent
his time a half a step ahead of the legal establishment, and just under
their radar to get away with whatever he had been doing. This bar was his
last refuge. He had just enough legal enterprise and clout to stay out of
trouble with the Trill.
That’s when something else caught his attention. A Reman walked past the
bar. A Reman in a uniform. It was his new security officer, Xotek. Xotek
had come to him, highly recommended, but he had managed to keep to himself,
and if Hank were honest with himself, he hadn’t really put much effort into
getting to know him. Well… no time like the present.
His long legs carried him across the floor quickly towards his officer who
seemed to be having a conversation with a child. The sight brought a smile
to his face. He recognized the little girl as Annika, the daughter of a
Betazoid adjunct clerk. She was usually quite shy, so it was interesting
that she would choose to talk with him.
As she went skipping back to her mother Hank stepped forward and said,
"They have Annika out pretty late tonight.”
(reply Xotek)
“How are you liking the Promenade walk?” he asked.
(reply Xotek)
(posted by Al Muir)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2244) CSec - Lt. Hank Samuels & Sec. Lt. Xotek
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Fri, 17 Apr 2026 18:15:33 -0700
Mission: Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch
Day: 1
Stardate: 2446.10.16
(Starbase Freedom - Level 16 - Promenade - CSec - Lt. Hank Samuels & Sec.
Lt. Xotek - 2244)
"They have Annika out pretty late tonight.”
Xotek turned slightly at the sound of the voice, his posture straightening
just enough to signal attention without stiffness. The dim lighting of
Level 16 cast soft shadows across his features, the faint ridges of his
Reman heritage catching the glow from the nearby storefronts.
Xotek looked at the Lieutenant that had approached, not just any
Lieutenant, it was Lieutenant Hank Samuels. The Chief Security Officer.
“Sir” Xotek said, acknowledging him. “As long as they are following the
laws, their enforcement of a schedule adequate for their child's age is of
no concern to me, Sir.” Xotek said with the faintest hint of a smile.
“How are you liking the Promenade walk?” Samuels asked.
Xotek gave a quick glance around. “Module 5 has a pulse of its own separate
from the rest of the Starbase. There's a good flow to things, but it's
delicate.” Xotek remarked.
“Delicate indeed,” Samuels nodded. “You may not know how true those words
are. Delicate and subtle.” He turned and looked back at the cafe. “Take,
for instance, Rick’s cafe. It is a clear example of subtle and delicate the
flow of the Promenade can be. At first appearance it seems to be a
sophisticated dining experience for a high end clientele. But somewhere
behind that is a flow less sophisticated. And less subtle.”
Xotek nodded his head. “The unexpected places always seem to have something
else going on. Everybody has their own way about them, however it's not for
me to judge, the Federation does that, I just enforce the law Sir.”
“We do, indeed,” Samuels agreed. “But we also need to be aware of where the
trouble can come from. And Mr. Bergen’s kind of trouble can have unexpected
consequences.”
“I served on DS15 before transferring her, Sir,” Xotek announced.
That was an interesting segue. He turned and began to walk away from
Rick’s, satisfied that no trouble was coming from there right now.
“I’m aware,” the security chief said. “Did you see your share of trouble
there? What was it like?”
“DS15 was the sort of place where problems had to be handled swiftly to set
the tone. Being located 2 light years past the far edge of Federation space
led to some individuals wanting to test our resolve.” Xotek chuckled and
shook his head.
“As for what it was like, Sir.” Xotek said with a pause. “It was a
community. We learned to rely on each other. Being that far away we had to
make it work, Sir.”
Hank smiled and nodded, “Sounds familiar.”
“How is it here?” Xotek asked. “Anything I should keep an eye on? Besides
the random Ferengi trying to rip someone off ?”
The El Aurian moved to the rail that surrounded the area kept clear for the
central view of the Promenade. Leaning against it he looked up and said,
“We may not be in the Wild West of the universe, but we do have our moments
of action.”
He paused and turned his back to the railing to continue, “Don’t get me
wrong, we have the typical brawls in Just for the Trill of It. You know,
construction workers blowing off steam. It can be a tougher spot, not
always a family atmosphere. And we have our seedier side, like here at
Rick’s, which appears to be more family oriented. But this is also a
diplomatic station, so we have some… shall we say, unusual activity.”
He paused for a moment, “Let me give you a couple of for instances. At one
point the president of Trillus was here and we had an assassination attempt
on him. We’ve had an envoy from the Tholians, which led to some excitement.
There’s also something going on with civilians. Not sure what it’s about,
but it’s something to be aware of.”
“I remember hearing about how some of the Trill were not happy about
rejoining the Federation, when the USS Republic came here, a member of the
crew was attacked by youths, who believed an independent Trill was the way
of the future. So I'm sure that sentiment still exists among their people.”
Xotek mentioned.
“It seems to be alive and well on this station,” Samuels agreed. “And that,
my friend, is a very sensitive area. As long as it doesn’t affect the
operations of this station then it’s an internal matter between the Trill,
even if it’s here on Freedom. And no,” he added, “before you ask, the Trill
have not recognized the threat and refuse to send Trill security to the
station.”
“That's why we're here, Sir. I don't care much for interstellar politics.
I'm an officer, I don't care what side of the line the Trill on this
station are on. My priority will be the safety of the occupants of this
Starbase, pro Federation or not.” Xotek responded back.
Hank smiled, “And that is why I accepted your recommendation. I must say,
you are quite different from the Remans I have met in the past.”l
“I was born and raised on Betazed, the only Remans I knew were my mother
and father, and neither of them were slaves, they were free, I wasn't
raised to hate, or hold a grudge.” Xotek said to Samuels.
Samuels nodded, “That’s a good thing. You’re people got the short end of
the stick before the destruction of Romulus. Their fall gave the Remans the
push to get away from that subjugation and marginalization. Not all
families were as resilient as it seems yours was.”
“Resilient?” Xotek asked rhetorically with a smirk. “No, Sir.” He said. “My
parents were fortunate enough to find themselves in the service of a
Romulan merchant by the name of S'vuek. He had purchased them both when
they were young and freed them.” Xotek said and looked at Lieutenant
Samuels.
“A simple choice can change lives, many Remans lived and died without ever
getting to experience what I have. No Romulan guard at my back beating me,
collapsing from exhaustion, No fat Romulan Senator degrading me for fun.”
Hank shook his head. “I’ve been around for nearly three hindred years, and
I still can’t fathom what could drive anyone to treat another living being
with such cruelty. The concept of slavery is so foreign to me.”
“I'm off duty as of 4 minutes ago, perhaps a drink at Rick's? I wouldn't
mind getting to know this place a little more.” Xotek suggested with a
friendly Reman smile, which in all actuality was pretty unsettling to most
who observed it.
Hank chuckled, “The true joy of being chief of security is that I’m never
really off duty. Just off shift. And my shift ended at 1600 hours. A drink
at Rick’s sounds like a great plan.”
(reply none)
(posted by Al and Rob)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (1-2350) Computer Systems Engineer, Lieutenant Zot
From: emarderok2 at gmail.com (Wayne Fromm)
Date: Thu, 2 Apr 2026 19:32:49 -0400
Mission: Meanwhile back at the Ranch
Day: 1
Stardate: 2446.10.16
(STARBASE FREEDOM- Module 3, Level 9, Personal Quarters- Computer Systems
Engineer, Lieutenant Zot- 2350)
Lieutenant Zot sat down at the desk in his quarters, his desk that was
custom installed in place of a bed. As a Eunepian, Zot was unable to sleep.
Therefore he elected to have his bed replaced with a work station that had
a direct link into the primary computer systems of Starbase Freedom. His
job, straight forward, keep the computer systems of the Starbase functional
and updated as continued upgrades happened.
“Personal Log – Lieutenant Zot
The station’s primary computer core required recalibration today. A
fluctuation in subspace communications bandwidth created minor routing
delays across several relay channels. The issue was resolved quickly,
though I remained in the core chamber for several additional hours
reviewing system architecture.” Zot said as he sat stoic in his chair
looking at the optical receiver on the desk in his quarters. Without the
need to sleep, Zot had a desk and work center where a bed would have been
placed.
“ I find the computational design of Starfleet systems fascinating. They
are built for adaptability across thousands of different environments and
species. In contrast, Eunepian computational frameworks are designed for
stability within a single planetary ecosystem.
The difference is… elegant.” He paused and took a breath.
“ Serving here continues to provide a unique perspective on how diverse
civilizations approach technological problem solving.
Earlier today a transport vessel arrived carrying botanical samples from
several Federation worlds. I requested access to the data catalog and
transmitted copies to my mother on Eunepi.” He said with a glimpse of a
smile as he mentioned his mother, Sirel who is a Botanical Ecologist. Her
field of study was Xenobotany and planetary ecosystems.
“ She responded quickly. The delay between transmission and reply was
shorter than expected. I suspect she had already been studying the incoming
shipment reports.
She asked if the plants from Andoria could survive the forests of Fesa. I
informed her that the atmospheric temperature difference would make that
unlikely. She seemed disappointed but appreciative of the data.” Zot
explained.
“It is strange to be so far from home and still feel connected to it
through scientific exchange. My duties here differ greatly from my time
aboard the USS Alexandria.
A starship computer must respond instantly to constantly changing
conditions: navigation adjustments, sensor analysis, and real-time
operational decisions. A starbase computer is more like a living archive.”
Zot explained and brought his hands together, adjusting his posture,
leaning forward.
“ Every day enormous volumes of data pass through these systems—exploration
logs, diplomatic transmissions, engineering reports, and personal messages
sent between distant worlds. Maintaining these networks feels less like
engineering and more like tending a vast information ecosystem. I often
reflect on the path that brought me here. My grandmother once told me
stories about the first signals our astronomers detected from distant
civilizations. At the time, many Eunepians feared what those signals might
represent.
Now I stand within a Federation installation surrounded by officers from
dozens of species.” Zot smiled a toothless smile.
“Their conversations echo through the corridors in languages my ancestors
never imagined hearing. It is… remarkable.
Earlier this cycle I stood near one of the station’s observation windows.
>From this distance the stars appear extremely bright. The absence of
atmospheric distortion makes them seem almost close enough to touch. I
tried to locate the approximate direction of Eunio in the sky.
Of course it cannot be seen from here.
But I know that somewhere in that direction my homeworld circles quietly
beneath its vast clouds. We hid our system behind the Veil of Eunio.Now our
people travel freely among the stars. Sometimes I wonder what the ancient
philosophers of my world would think if they could see this.
End log.” Zot said and leaned back in his chair.
( Reply none )
( posted by Rob)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (3-1855) Lt. Cal Dogan & Romulan Exchange Officer Centurion Delexa
From: emarderok2 at gmail.com (Wayne Fromm)
Date: Tue, 21 Apr 2026 13:40:06 -0400
Sorry thought this was sent. It is a back post mind the stardate.
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 3
Stardate: 2446.10.18
(USS Hades - Deck 9 - Nine and Dine- CSEC - Lt. Cal Dogan & Romulan
Exchange Officer Centurion Delexa- 1855)
Delexa had arrived at 1850 and found herself a seat, one that wasn't too
centralized as to cause them to have to use a louder volume in their
conversation but also one that wasn't too isolated from the view of others.
She hadn't ventured around the ship after having left the bridge earlier;
she went to her quarters and remained there until she had gained the
confidence of Lieutenant Dogan.
She knew she didn't technically need his blessing to venture the ship, but
she wanted to respect his station and demonstrate that she was there with
nothing but good and honest intentions. She sat waiting, wearing her
Romulan uniform. She had not ordered any beverage or food, she had learned
that doing so may be considered rude.
When Cal stepped into the Nine and Dine every conversation stopped. This
was the first time the Brikar had entered the establishment for anything
other than an official reason, for those who new him. For all others he was
just an imposing presence. After a few moments conversations resumed.
He scanned the room with his eyes and caught sight of Delaxa. She had
picked a strategic position away from most of the other diners and away
from the service entrance, so they could talk lowly. Under other
circumstances some might consider the placing as… romantic.
Dogan stepped up to the table and nodded to the Romulan. “Centurion.”
Delexa stood up immediately and had her hands on full display, a subtle
Romulan gesture to convey there was no threat intended. She bowed her head
to him lightly.
“Lieutenant Dogan, I hope my seating selection wasn't too impulsive.” She
said as she gestured to the chair for him to sit down.
Cal eyed the chair for a moment, considering its ability to support his
mass. He tapped his comm badge. “Computer, transport my personal chair to
this location.”
A moment later his reinforced chair appeared. He removed the chair at the
table and replaced with his own. Then he sat. The chair almost groaned at
the weight it supported. He looked up at Delexa and shrugged.
“I made the mistake of trusting a standard chair in the past,” he
explained. “Let’s just say I won’t make that mistake again.”
She sat down. “You are not missing out on much, the padding on these chairs
is very subpar.”
Cal chuckled, “I’ll take your word on that.”
“And no, impulsive was not the word I had in mind,” he answered her
question. “Thoughtful would be the descriptor I would use. I approve.”
She looked at him. She had never seen a Brikar actually sit down before. It
was a pleasant sight to see such a massive being relaxed.
They say looking at each other for a moment, and in true Brikarian fashion
he went straight to the heart of the matter. “Tell me Centurion, why did
you choose to be part of this exchange program?”
“I didn't." She said very quickly.
Cal was surprise, “Indeed?”
“I was assigned to the program by my superiors, because most of the
participants were from our 4th Fleet, Diplomatic and Escort Fleet to be
more precise. Central command wanted more participants from the other 4
fleets and with lack of volunteers, participants were chosen.” Delexa
explained.
“And what is your background?” Dogan asked.
“ I am from the 3rd fleet, Strike Fleet, Rapid-response warfare, Strategic
defense, and Counter-offensive capability are our specialty. We are less
politically and diplomatically inclined than the rest of the fleets. We are
soldiers, our place is out there…” Delexa said and looked with her eyes and
motioned with her head towards the windows and into the vastness of space.
“…Not some exchange program. Yet, I was selected and like any good soldier,
I do what I am told. So here I sit on a Federation vessel under the command
of a Starfleet Captain.”
Cal mused on that revelation for a moment. He appreciated her honesty. It
said much about her. It said that she followed orders, no matter what. It
also said that she had little, if any, personal stock in this venture.
He nodded, "Good soldier. I can appreciate that. Other than duty, what
motivates you to be here. Surely you could have passed on the opportunity
if you did not agree with the purpose of the program?”
Delexa chuckled a bit. “I could have but a refusal, even one that is
permitted, is placed upon our records. I am from a military family on both
sides, Lieutenant, exemplary service is expected.” She drew a deep breath.
“ Personally I s…”
“But,” Cal added.
“I do see the benefit of the program. The Federation and Republic are
allies after all. We have joint operations taking place, but I feel like my
time could be better spent on the front lines defending the Republic from
Klingons or the wandering ship clans of the Romulan Free State who wish
nothing more than to pirate our technology and resources.” Delexa
mentioned.
“I can appreciate your position,” Dogan said. “I might feel the same in
your place.”
“ May I ask you a question, Lieutenant ?”
The server came to the table and interrupted them. She looked at them as if
they were the oddest pair she’d ever seen. She might just be correct.
“What can I get for you folks?” she asked.
Dogan looked at the woman and chose to not say “privacy”. He looked at the
menu briefly. Not seeing his typical nutri-goop he considered an
alternative.
“I will have the lentil stew with root vegetables and coconut milk over
quinoa,” he ordered.
“I will have exactly what the Lieutenant is having.” Delexa said. She
wanted to have the same tasting experience as the Lieutenant as she had no
idea what she would actually like.
Once the server was gone he refocused, “Ask your question.”
“Do you find life in the Federation fulfilling?” She asked.
Cal sat back, “Define fulfilling. It has been different than life on the
Brikar Homeworld. But I had a different calling than my parents desired.”
She thought for a moment. “Are you satisfied ? More so than you would have
been had you remained on your homeworld?”
“If I had remained on the homeworld I would have felt obligated to follow
in his footsteps in the leadership of the Brikarian military. When I was
introduced to Starfleet I saw a life of exploration instead of one of
destruction. Our oaths… became different. Satisfied?” He shrugged. “I
believe I am on a better path. Perhaps, one day, I will feel satisfaction.
However, if I had stayed I know that I would never feel that. Something
would always be missing. “
“I just wanted to ask the most apparent outsider other than myself. I had
the thought that your experience would somehow provide me with a certain
level of enlightenment as to what lies ahead for me.” Delexa explained. “If
I have overstepped my place with my inquiry please tell me, Lieutenant.”
“Overstepped? I do not believe so,” Dogan said. “Nobody has ever asked me
that question before and I have never brought the subject up. It has caused
a … rift in my family. However there are others to take my place there.
Here, I have a place of my own. Such self realizations are never out of
place.”
He paused for a moment and added, “I hope I have helped you with your own
dilemma.”
Delexa smiled and nodded her head. “S’ei tr’velh nath tr’ra t’khia. Ei
ch’rhei velh dosi iha s’khre, velh tr’ra nath iha.” She said in very
precise High Rihannsu, a Romulan dialect.
Cal’s eyes narrowed as he tried to hear the words Delaxa spoke.
“It's an old proverb,” she said. “The path you carve yourself is often the
one fate intended. If another can take your place, then it was never truly
yours.” She explained. “It appears you have flourished thus far,
Lieutenant.”
“Indeed,” the Brikarian replied. “I am not so fatalistic. I believe we
create our own path. However, I understand your sentiment.”
Their food arrived at their table before she could respond. “Thank you for
your service, and to the ones who prepared this provision.” She said to the
server.
Dogan nodded as his food was placed in front of him.
“If there is anything you need, just ask. Please access the drink menu on
the table top; the built-in replicator will provide the desired beverage.”
The server said then left their table to proceed to another.
Delexa looked at the food in front of her. “I suppose there isn't a correct
way to eat this is there?” She asked rhetorically with a chuckle then
looked at Dogan. “Since it's all thrown together.”
Delexa opened the drink menu on the table and selected a drink, a green
tea. She had sampled various drinks on the USS Princeton and found herself
being quite fond of green tea. The tea appeared in front of her.
Cal opted for no drink. It was not necessary since the meal had enough
liquid in it. However, he was aware that other beings need to to consume
liquid with a meal.
“In case the conversation diverts too far from the intended goal of this
meeting I have a copy of my service record from the Republic Fleet. Its
accuracy can be verified with the Federation office of joint operations. I
have also granted you access to the database on New Romulus to have access
to my complete biographical profile, of course anything deemed mission
sensitive will be redacted.” Delexa said and took a drink of her green tea.
Cal smiled, “That is very gracious of you. I can verify the information
that I have already compiled from my sources. I am curious, though.” He
paused to pick up the bowl of steaming stew and poured a portion of it into
his mouth. “You are directly related to Praetor Nerel, are you not? How is
that you have received a junior station assignment rather than something
more… diplomatically inclined?”
“Praetor Nerel, who I never met was the one time leader of the Star Empire
who died many years before I was born, he like many before him was removed
from power by his successor, Hiren who was removed by his successor Shinzon
of Remus. Betrayal was an all too common theme in the Star Empire.” She
said with a pause and straightened her posture. “ But to answer your
question, our stations are earned, Lieutenant. Legacy is not inherited, it
is proven through service.”
“An excellent policy,” Dogan replied. “Sadly, one not shared by many races.”
“You strike me as the sort of person to place duty above all.” Delexa
remarked then took a spoonful of the stew.
“A Brikarian is honor bound to perform the duties of their station,” Cal
explained. “To not do so is to forfeit one’s life. I am bound to the Hades
and to Captain Merek and will defend both to my death. If that is what you
mean.”
Delexa nodded her head. “I know those aren't just words, I can tell you
mean it and that makes me feel a lot safer. It's very reminiscent of the
oath we take when joining the Fleet. Duty before self, service before
ambition.”
Cal shrugged at the similarities, “Perhaps I was a bit rash to judge you,
Centurion. Clearly we have much in common. It will be… interesting to serve
with you.”
“I'm glad that we have a better understanding of each other. I'm sure it
will make shadowing you tomorrow enjoyable. Head of security is a position
of immense importance. It will be an honour to serve with you Lieutenant
Dogan.”
Cal drained the last of his stew and nodded, “Then I shall endeavor to be
worthy of your honor, Centurion. Tomorrow is another day.”
(reply none)
(posted by Al and Rob)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: =?utf-8?q?=284_-_1519=29_Special_Agent_T=E2=80=99xe?= =?utf-8?q?n_Toks?=
From: tinmanjayc at gmail.com (Tinman JayC)
Date: Wed, 1 Apr 2026 09:57:22 -0400
SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1519)
Special Agent T’xen Toks
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge – SFI/TI- T’Xen Toks- 1519)
“There is no time like the present. What did you find?” Solice allowed.
Toks pulled out his bracelet which projected a holographic image of data.
“The crew was on a secondary mission than exploration. They were carrying a payload that is not mentioned. But several senior staff logs mentioned the item and the redacted coordinates.”
(Reply Solice, any)
Toks shrugged. “I did further digging and the assistant to the chief science officer made several comments about exotic particles escaping the containment of the device or payload, which led to me checking ship sensors. The particles also escaped the ship. Before records ceased for 25 years, the prophet’s wormhole,” the ting to late to mask the reverence he held for the non linear beings. “Well it behaved differently than generally expected. Deduction suggests the particles played a part in this.”
(Reply any)
“I am not regisrrring these particle on the vessel now,” he finished.” He looked at Her. “I can hack the system but didn’t want to do anything that may lockdown systems without your consent.” He explained.
Ummm… Commander,” Wednesday called out, “I think you might want to look at this. It seems we have an incoming message. And I think it’s from the planet.”
(Reply any)
Posted by tinmanjayc
We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is not an act, but a habit.- Aristotle
==============================================================================
SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1523) Commander Quinna Solice
From: msklbailey2016 at gmail.com (Kris Bailey)
Date: Sat, 4 Apr 2026 08:56:05 -0500
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge – Commander Quinna Solice - 1523)
“There is no time like the present. What did you find?” Solice allowed.
“The crew was on a secondary mission than exploration. They were carrying a
payload that is not mentioned. But several senior staff logs mentioned the
item and the redacted coordinates.”
>From what I remember, it was a mission that had the highest level of
security. All Civilians had to disembark before the ship went through the
wormhole.” Quinna supplied
“I did further digging and the assistant to the chief science officer made
several comments about exotic particles escaping the containment of the
device or payload, which led to me checking ship sensors. The particles
also escaped the ship. Before records ceased for 25 years, the prophet’s
wormhole,... Well it behaved differently than generally expected.
Deduction suggests the particles played a part in this.”
Quinna shook her head. She wondered what happened even more now. She
wondered if the data rod she found in her father’s office held a clue. “So
is it still leaking?”
“I am not registering these particles on the vessel now,” he finished.” He
looked at her. “I can hack the system but didn’t want to do anything that
may lockdown systems without your consent.”
Quinna took a minute to think about it. then…
“Ummm… Commander,” Wednesday called out, “I think you might want to look at
this. It seems we have an incoming message. And I think it’s from the
planet.”
When the message was opened, it was garbled. When attempted to reply, that
would not go through. Quinna tapped her finger on the console while she
thought. Something, someone was down there and then knew that there was
something up here. Quinna looked around the bridge, her team. It was her
decision.
“We need to go down there. Clues indicate it could be an advanced society,
and it could be federation citizens.” She did not say it.
(Reply Adams, Green, Toks, Weston)
“I suggest we beam down outside the community. A kilometer should be far
enough. We do not want to startle anyone. We might find ourselves on the
business end of a weapon.” Quinna turned, “Adams and Toks, I need you two
to help make sure this ship stays ready.” Then she turns to Raven and then
Michael, “Lt. Green, Lt Weston,” She held Michael’s gaze. “Lets take a
field trip.”
Quinna thought of one more thing, she then looked at Lt Green, “I
understand your concern about the atmosphere of the planet. We do have
inoculations that help our lungs adapt, but will you have an issue keeping
your form?”
(Reply Green)
Quinna was already digging in her black bag for her med kit and her
hypospray. She programmed it for the needed inoculation and administered
it to herself first and came up behind Michael and gave him his.
“Ok, Lets go,” Quinna said as she repacked the medkit back into her
backpack. She slung the back on her back. And headed to the transporter
room.
(Reply Adams, Green, Toks, Weston)
(Played by Kris B)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 15.24 LT Raven Green)
From: thedukeej at yahoo.com (Edward Engel)
Date: Sat, 4 Apr 2026 15:57:21 +0000 (UTC)
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge LT Raven Green - 15.24)
Quinna took all the information and made a decision. Wednesday Adams and Toks are to stay on the ship to monitor things. LT Weston and LT Green are to join CDR Solice to beam down to the planet. CDR Solice gave herself and LT Weston an inoculation to help with breathing the atmosphere. Raven didn't need the inoculation but may need a regeneration soon.
"Understood Ma'am I may need a regeneration soon though. How are we going to handle that?"
(Reply Quinna, Weston, Any)Posted by Edward)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1524) Engineering Officer - Ensign Wednesday Adams
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Sat, 4 Apr 2026 09:00:17 -0700
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois - Corridor- Engineering Officer - Ensign Wednesday Adams -
1524)
The group gathered around Wednesday and Quninna nodded to her. With a
touch of a key she opened the message. A wave of static intermeshed with
words that could not be made out to confirm or deny a standard Federation
language came from the speaker.
“Let me see if I can clean it up,” Wednesday said, trying to boost the
power to the receiver.
There was no luck in clearing up the message. “There just isn’t enough
power behind that signal,” Wednesday reported. A look from Solice sent its
own message to the Ensign. “Let me see if we can send a message back.”
She moved her hands across the controls and said, “This is the Federation
Starship…,” a hand on her shoulder from Weston caused her to stop.
He wagged a warning finger at her and said, “Let’s hold back from that
information, Ensign.”
Wednesday nodded and continued, “Your message is unclear. Repeat, your
message is unclear. Retransmit your message.””
After that the signal went dead. Wednesday looked back at the others and
shrugged. “Sorry, Commander, whoever was sending that message has stopped
transmitting.”
After tapping on the console for a few seconds Solice stood up. Decision
was written on her face.
“We need to get down there,” Solace said.
Wednesday was suddenly exhilarated. She was about to touch the ground of a
planet in the Gamma quadrant. And perhaps, even rescue some people.
The Solice said, “Adams and Toks, I need you two to help make sure this
ship stays ready.”
Wednesday let the air escape from her lungs in disappointment, but she
nodded. Still, the job she’d been assigned was a daunting one. She stood
up and moved to the engineering station as she continued to give her orders
to the others.
(reply none)
(posted by Al Muir)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1526) Commander Casem Leal
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Sun, 5 Apr 2026 17:26:01 -0700
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(Planetfall Compound - Nathan’s Treehouse - Mayor/FO - Commander Casem Leal
- 1526)
Casem popped her head through the trap door to the tree house in time to
hear Nathan send his message. She wanted to chastise him for his
impetuousness, but she completely understood his impatience. It was a
moment that they had all longed for, for as long as the boy had been born.
Sweat had already begun to settle around her dark, auburn hair, and the
breeze felt good on the back of her neck.
“Attention orbiting vessel, can you hear me?”
She moved in behind the boy and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. He
looked up at the commander and gave her a shrug.
“I think the message made it there,” he said with hope, “but this is the
first time we’ve tried to make this work.”
Casem gave the shoulder a supportive squeeze, “Keep going, Nathan.”
Suddenly a barrage of static came back at them. Leal’s heart jumped when
she thought she heard the word “ship” and then “back.”
She looked at Nathan and ordered, “see if you can tighten the bandwidth and
boost the output.”
“We’re kind of at maximum power now,” Nathan said.
“We’ve got nothing to lose,” Casem said. “Give it all you can.”
He nodded and turned the dials in the power output control. Suddenly there
was a series of pops. Smoke began to pour out of the device, then with a
loud explosion all the lights died and the antenna fell over.
Nathan turned around, nearly in tears. “Well that’s that.”
Casem stepped back and took a deep breath. She looked at the heads that
were popping through the floor port to the treehouse. She breathed out then
took another breath in.
“Okay people, get out,” she said with authority. “I need to get to the
ground.”
There was a shuffle and one by one the heads disappeared and she could hear
them climbing back down the ladder. She picked Nathan out of his chair and
threw her arms around him.
“Okay…,” she said, “pull yourself together. You did a great job here. I’m
going with the thought that we’ve been, at least partially l, heard and I’m
going to need your help when whoever it is arrives. So take a minute, then
join me on the ground.”
With that she made her own way down the ladder. By the time her feet hit
solid rock, the tree was completely surrounded.
She knew she had to say something, “I can’t say much. I’m pretty sure we
made contact, but I don’t know with whom. We can hope for friendlies, but
our luck has not usually gone in that direction. Gun, where are you?”
(reply Gunther)
Put together a team to provide security inside the force field. I want
another four people outside the field to be scouts. They need to be good at
remaining unseen and move quietly.”
(reply Gunther)
Then she turned back to the crowd, “Everyone else, prepare for company.
Hope for the best but expect the worst. I need that needlepointed onto a
pillow.”
(reply Gunther, any)
(posted by Al Muir)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1526) Commander Solice and SFI FD Michael Weston
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Fri, 17 Apr 2026 21:08:21 -0700
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(Planet Auberjonois - 1 KM from Compound - XO Commander Solice and SFI FD
Michael Weston - 1526)
As the tingle of the transporter effect dissipated Michael pulled out his
tricorder and began to scan. The planet had a strange orange hue to it.
Even the plants had an orange tinge. He took a deep breath. The air
smelled a little… off. As he checked his scan he saw the increased levels
of methane gas. It didn’t pose any danger, but what little he understood
of science and ecosystems, he knew that prolonged exposure would create a
heavier plant growth. However, the reduction in UV rays from the lighter
sun would cause their growth to be somewhat stinted, and the plants more
aggressive.
Who knew what it would do for the animal life. However, as his scans
showed, life was plentiful. He found everything from microbes to larger,
subterranean dwelling creatures. None of which seemed familiar to him in
any way. The only other life signs seemed to be a kilometer away, in what
was most likely a town. Then there was a slight ping on his tricorder.
Looking over at Quinna he called out, “We’re being watched.”
“Yeah,” Quinna said. “The hairs standing on my arms told me that.” Quinna
did not like it.
Michael tapped his comm badge, “Weston to Auberjonois, we are on planet and
still alive. I read two life forms about 20 meters to our left and right.
Monitor them. Let us know if they start to close the gap.”
(reply any on the ship)
He turned to Quinna and held out his hand. “You ready to go for a walk?”
“Let’s go” Quinna replied, not an after you or follow me, but she walked
with him.
Quinna could hear the rustling of the foliage around them. Quinna tried to
get a glimpse. What is indigenous life forms or something else. Quinna
leaded in, “I think we have a tail on us.”
Michael looked at his tricorder and nodded, “But they’re keeping a healthy
distance from us. Checking us out. Making sure we’re safe.”
They continued walking casually. Michael kicked at the dirt, checking the
gravity as the dust settled a little slower than Earth normal, but just
slightly. His muscles worked just as hard for the walk. If there was going
to be a fight he wanted to be ready for anything.
As the two approached the compound they paused and watched for it. It was
then their followers approached Michael and Quinna. “Who are you?” The
young lad asked.
“We are Starfleet. We received a signal from this area.” Quinna answered.
They moved forward and requested their belongings. “You have no choice,
turn it all over or we will be forced to treat you as hostile.”
Quinna nodded to Michael. Michael looked at Quinna with curiosity. The
boy, for he must not be much older than eighteen, was clothed in what
appeared to be an old, modified, Starfleet uniform. It had more than a
fair share of patches on it., surrounded by a few unpatched worn areas.
His voice had a nice mixture of attempting to be threatening and awe and
fear. Looking at the weapon he held, Michael was pretty sure that he could
take out both of the people looking at them without much difficulty. But
that really wouldn’t go over well. Nor would it give them the confidence in
his and Quinna’s purpose for being here.
He shrugged and pulled his obvious phaser from its place on his hip,
holding it out. He repeated the action with his tricorder. He didn’t even
move to touch the communicator, wondering if they would even know what it
was.
“There you go,” he said pleasantly, “but please be careful with the
tricorder, it is delicate.”
“I know how to treat Starfleet equipment,” the boy said petulantly. Then
he nodded to the girl that was with him. “Follow us.”
As they walked to the perimeter of the village the hairs on Michaels arms
began to tingle. He realized that they were approaching a force field.
There was a signal from the young man and he could feel the energy from the
force field dissipate.
They moved together into the village. Quinna could see an established
village. Shelters that were made sturdier over time. Kids that where
playing stopped and looked. Adults walking around moved closer. Quinna
noted the familiar Alpha Quadrant races. A woman approached. Quinna
recognized the woman, not her mother but a woman she trusted.
Casem had been watching the approach of the pair with her scouts. As she
stepped forward, towards them, a sense of recognition washed across her
face. Suddenly she broke into a run and threw her arms around Quinna.
“Oh my God “ Casem said as 25 years of relief escaped from her lungs.
“Quinna Solice. I’d recognize those piercing eyes anywhere. Of course it
would be you.”
Quinna let go of a breath she did not know she was holding. “Commander,”
Quinna stepped forward, “I am confused. What happened? How did you…?”
Quinna looked around for her parents. She did not see them. “Is everyone
here?” Quinna was stammering “Oh, Wow.”
Casem was suddenly very aware of how hard she’d been holding on to “little”
Quinna Solice, the darling and the nightmare of the children of the
Auberjonois. There had been times when she wanted to hold the three year
old on her lap on the command chair, and times where she had wanted to put
the mischievous little girl in an airlock for a time out.
She finally released the young woman and looked at her, still not believing
what she was seeing. “Everyone? No. But I’m pretty sure I know who you’re
thinking of.” Completely ignoring the crowd gathering around them she
grabbed Quinna’s hand and dragged her across the compound. “Come on.”
They came to a domicile and stopped. Casem placed Quinna in the middle of
the doorway, then knocked on the door. She took a step to the side and
watched.
(reply none)
(posted by Al Muir and Kris B)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1527) Commander Quinna Solice
From: msklbailey2016 at gmail.com (Kris Bailey)
Date: Sat, 4 Apr 2026 13:52:40 -0500
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge Commander Quinna Solice - 15.27)
Quinna was ready to go then something she had not thought of came out.
"Understood Ma'am I may need a regeneration soon though. How are we going
to handle that?"
Crap. Quinna never thought about that. "Lt. Do you need? Just somewhere
to regereate, a special container? I remember my mother loved to cook
soups. there might be a pot in the family quarters." Quinna suggested.
(Reply Green)
"How long do you need to regenerate?" Quinna asked.
(Reply Green)
(Reply Adams, Green, Toks, Weston)
Posted by Edward)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1528) SFI DD - Michael Weston
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Sat, 4 Apr 2026 13:13:38 -0700
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois - Deck 1- Bridge - SFI DD - Michael Weston - 1528)
“We need to go down there,” Quinna said. “Clues indicate it could be an
advanced society, and it could be federation citizens.”
She didn’t say what was on her mind, but Michael could see it in her eyes.
The hope that they had just found the crew of the Auberjenois… and her
parents.
“I suggest we beam down outside the community,” she continued. “A kilometer
should be far enough. We do not want to startle anyone. We might find
ourselves on the business end of a weapon.”
Michael nodded, “That’s a solid plan.Wear your comfy walkin’ shoes.”
Quinna turned and looked at Wednesday and Toks,, “Adams and Toks, I need
you two to help make sure this ship stays ready.”
Michael saw the look of disappointment in Wednesday’s eyes, but then she
changed it to one of determination as she moved to a different console.
Then Quinna looked at Raven and then him, “Lt. Green, Lt Weston.” She
paused for a moment to look into Michael’s eyes. “Lets take a field trip.”
Michael smiled, reminding himself that he was not SFI Deputy Director right
now, nor was he Cap’n Weston of the Odysseus. And if everyone was being
honest, he really wasn’t Lt. Weston of Starfleet. He was the love of
Quinna Solice, and he would answer to whatever name she called him right
now.
“A field trip?” he quipped back, “and I’m not sure I got my permission slip
signed.”
Then Quinna turned to address Green. “I understand your concern about the
atmosphere of the planet. We do have inoculations that help our lungs
adapt, but will you have an issue keeping your form?”
"Understood Ma'am,” Green replied. “ I may need a regeneration soon
though. How are we going to handle that?"
“Do you have the means to regenerate here, Lieutenant?" Michael asked.
“Otherwise, we may have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”
(reply Green)
Quinna pulled out a hypospray from her med kit and inoculated herself.
Then she moved over to Michael. He looked her in the eye as her hand moved
smoothly in pressed the hypospray onto his neck.
“You seem to always be giving me a shot of one kind or another,” he said
with a smile, forcing himself to not lean forward and kiss her.
“Okay, let’s go,” Quinna said as she put the med kit over her shoulder and
turned to the turbo lift.
“On your six, boss,” Michael said, moving in behind her.
Michael turned to Toks, “T’Xen, keep a lock on our comm lines. We’ll call
when we’re on the surface.
Then he turned to Wednesday as the turbo lift doors opened. “Wednesday,
keep track of our life signs. We may need an emergency beam out. ”
“Already on it… Lieutenant,” Wednesday replied getting back to her usual
sardonic mode.
The the door to the turbo lift closed.
(reply Solice, Toks)
(posted by Al Muir)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: =?utf-8?q?=284_-_1528=29_Special_Agent_T=E2=80=99xe?= =?utf-8?q?n_Toks?=
From: tinmanjayc at gmail.com (Tinman JayC)
Date: Mon, 6 Apr 2026 14:39:43 -0400
SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1528)
Special Agent T’xen Toks
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois- Bridge – SFI/TI- T’Xen Toks- 1528)
Solice made her decision. Toks nodded. Then Weston gave instruction.
“Michael, keep that sonic device handy from this point on,” he suggested. “I’m already locked in to your comm badges.”
(Reply any)
Posted by tinmanjayc
We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is not an act, but a habit.- Aristotle
==============================================================================
SBFREEDOM-RPG: HADESRPG: (4 - 1530) CO, Captain Keira Merek
From: docholladay2021 at gmail.com (Todd Holladay)
Date: Wed, 15 Apr 2026 20:58:28 -0500
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Hades - Bridge - CO, Captain Keira Merek - 1530)
She looked around, everyone was at their stations. Ire had the center. Jayc
was to the chair's left. OPS and the Helm had the usual Beta Shift
personnel. Lieutenant Dogan was at his usual tactical perch, a watchful eye
over everything. A lone science Ensign sat at the Aft station. He had a
belt apparatus that converted the standard atmosphere to one more conducive
to his species' unique respiratory organs. Keira took control of the bridge
and sat in the center chair. Ire moved right into the Executive officer's
chair. "Bridge to Engineering, report on status. Are we ready to jump?"
(Reply Engineering)
"I knew you could. Bridge out." She nodded to her First Officer indicating
to bring the ship to yellow alert.
(Reply Ire)
The indicator panels issued an amber glow indicating a heightened sense of
urgency throughout the ship, all systems were brought to a ready status,
those without a duty station would follow general quarters protocol. Keira
knew this meant Ako, Rayna and even Venus would be secured in the Captain's
quarters.
"All stations report ready." OPS reported.
Keira always felt a sense of pride with what was about to happen. After
all, the Hades was the only ship with this means of propulsion.
"Helm, load the coordinates." Keira ordered.
"Aye, sir." Helm called out.
"OPS begin recording." Keira said.
"Recording begins at fifteen thirty and forty five seconds." OPS confirmed.
"Execute jump on my mark." Keira ordered.
"Ready." Helm said.
"Mark." Keira ordered.
(Reply all)
The viewscreen showed the starfield in front of them change. In a matter of
seconds all the stars they could see refracted to a single point. The
viewscreen was completely black except for that single point. Just as
quickly the narrow view of light opened up into a completely different star
field. The coaxial drive returned to a zero state.
(Reply any)
The Romulan woman looked at the view screen. The Arachnid Nebula was
supposed to be visible on the viewscreen. That was the plan.
"This doesn't look right. Helm check navigational sensors. The Arachnid
Nebula was supposed to be visible. Where are we?" Keira ordered.
"Working sir." The helm answered nervously.
The Ensign at the Aft station stepped forward. He touched Lieutenant Dogan
on the back of his shoulder to get his attention.
(Reply Dogan)
"Sir, can I get you to take a look at this?" The Ensign said. Pointing at
his screen. A barely perceptible soft hum issued from the officer's
breathing apparatus.
(Reply any)
(Posted by Todd)
--
Todd Holladay
SGT, IA ANG (Ret)
" It's made of our shit, you know. That's the base material that we use in
our replicators. We deconstruct it to the atomic level and then reform the
atoms. [takes a bite] It's pretty good for shit. And we don't have to
commit atrocities for it." - Admiral Charles Vance
<http://www.avg.com/email-signature?utm_medium=email&utm_source=link&utm_campaign=sig-email&utm_content=webmail>
Virus-free.www.avg.com
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1531) Commander Quinna Solice
From: msklbailey2016 at gmail.com (Kris Bailey)
Date: Fri, 24 Apr 2026 12:16:08 -0500
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(Planet Auberjonois - XO Commander Solice -- 1531)
Quinna took a deep breath. She waited for the door to open. A young boy
looked at Casom and smiled. “Hey Mayor. Mom is not feeling well and wants
you to come back later. Then the boy looked at Quinna. “Hi, I am Bryce.”
“I am Quinna.” Quinna held out her hand.
Bryce took it. “Daddy is at the infirmary.” Then Bryce closed the door.
Quinna turned to Leal, “Wow that was something. You have really created
something. I guess being stranded in Paradise, who can complain. Just
need some cabana boys.”
(Reply Leal)
Quinna gave Michael a wink. They then headed for their medical facility.
They walked in and she was greeter by another friendly face. Her
godfather. He knew that face and those eyes, “By the Prophets,” Ander
Benjamin grabbed Quinna tight and would ot let go.
“Uncle Benny” Quinna barely got out.
“Hey, Mike.” Benjamin called. “Calling Dr. Solice, I have a patient to be
see in reception.”
Quinna managed to break away and introduce Michael, “Lt. Weston, this is
my godfather, Ander Benjamin.”
(Reply Weston)
“Nice to meet you. Most people call me Ben around here.” He offered
Michael his hand.
(Reply Weston)
“Hey Mike, are you coming,” Ben called back to Mike Solice.
(Reply Mike Solice)
(Reply Leal and Weston)
(posted by Kris B)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1531) Lt. Mike Solice, Commander Quinna Solice, Lt. Michale Weston, Captain Alexis Swenson and Casem Lea
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Sun, 26 Apr 2026 10:26:36 -0700
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(Planetfall Compound - Medical Habitat - CMO- Lt. Mike Solice, Commander
Quinna Solice, Lt. Michale Weston, Captain Alexis Swenson and Casem Leal -
1531)
As the years had gone they managed to deplete most of their medical
supplies. After a while Mike had been forced to find more natural solutions
to illnesses that the survivors were coming down with. Fortunately, the
planet had a plethora of plant life that he had at his fingertips to create
medicines he needed.
Some of his concoctions even worked better than the medicines he’d had
available on the Auberjonois. He had created a medicine for minor aches and
headaches that gave relief almost instantly.
He’d just finished cleaning up his latest batch of analgesic when he heard
a voice calling to him.
“Hey Mike. Calling Dr. Solice. I have a patient for you.” Ben’s voice rang
in a playful way, which meant that it wasn’t that serious or wasn’t really
a patient, probably one of his children with some kind of a “surprise” for
him. Smiling, he made his way to the entrance, carrying a tray of beakers,
hoping it would keep anyone from jumping at him.
“Hey Mike, are you coming?” Ben’s voice sounded more urgent, but not
emergency urgent.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mike said, “keep what’s left of your hair…”
As he stepped into the waiting room his eyes fell upon the one sight he
thought he’d never see again. He stopped dead in his tracks and narrowed
his eyes. His gaze bore into the blonde woman across from him and
everything else seemed to disappear.
There was no escaping who she was. She was grown up, but she was still the
little hellcat that terrorized his sickbay, and knew more about medicine
that most of his staff at the age of three. As much as he tried, he
couldn’t get his lungs to work.
But it couldn’t be her… could it?
Quinna found Michael’s hand and squeeze it hard. Her heart was beating
harder than before. She exhaled a breath and said “Daddy” under that
breath.
Hearing her voice the strength left his hands and the tray he was holding
crashed to the floor.
“Quinna?” he barely got the name out. “Queenie?” a little stronger.
Suddenly his muscles began to move as if on instinct. His body moved to
cross the floor and he pulled his daughter into him. Tears began to fall
uncontrollably.
The only words he could get out were, “Oh my God. My beautiful baby.”
In that moment, Quinna was not a 32 year old commander in Starfleet. She
was 7 year old Quinna. She started crying and could not stop. She clung
to her father tight but she also clung to Michael. Words failed her.
She felt like home clinging to the father that taught her about love and
clinging her hand with the man who taught her that she is loved. “I love
you, Daddy. I did want you asked. Promise.” the words came drowned in
her sobs.
“I know you did,” Mike said, in a soothing voice. “I knew you would.”
Michael stood, awkwardly, watching the reunion. He couldn’t help but be
caught up in the emotions pouring out. He was torn from wanting to give
them space and time, and feeling Quinna’s need for him to stay close.
Finally Mike Solice managed to pull himself back. He put one hand on either
side of Quinna’s face, trying to wipe the tears from her cheek.
“How did you get here?” he asked. “How did you know where we were? Has
your mother seen you?”
Quinna stepped back, “Those are loaded questions and I have plenty of my
own. There was a ship, it ship brought us here. And Mom?” Quinna took a
step back, “I think Mom rejected me. I did meet Bryce. But he quickly
closed the door as well.”
Mike looked at Quinna incredulously. “Reject you? Did she even see you?
And Bruce… well he probably had no idea who you were. After all, he doesn’t
even know he has a big sister. We can take care of all of that. But before
we do that, who is this young man that you won’t seem to let go of?”
“Excuse me, for being rude, this is Michael Weston. Part of the team that
found you.” Quinna introduced. Quinna found this moment uncomfortable.
Her boyfriend, her dad. She looked at Michael with confusion in her eyes.
“Michael, I want you to meet my father. Michael Solice.” Quinna then let
out a smirk realizing about the names.
“Sir,” Michael said putting his hand out, “it is an honor.”
“Micheal?” he said questioningly. His eyes went up and down, then looked at
how his daughter.. his beautiful and brilliant daughter… looked at him and
new that how she described him was not how she felt about him. Slowly he
shook the offered hand then pulled him into a strong hug. “Clearly you are
more than just a “part of the team” who found us.”
Micheal Weston wasn’t caught off guard often, but here he was, completely
unprepared for this moment. It was very different than any interaction with
his own father.
Ben stood, “I think I hear the labs calling. Yep, I do.” and he leaves.
Mike held the younger man at arms length and look at him, “Do you love my
daughter.”
Michael smiled and shrugged, “Yes, sir. I do.”
Mike laughed heartily. It had been a long time since he’d really done
that. “Then that’s good enough for me.”
Suddenly the door busted open and Rachel was there. “Stangers in our
village.” Quinna turned and looked at her mother.
“Mommy” Quinna said.
“Don’t call me that, I have no daughters.” Rachel started, “not any more.”
Quinna was quick to put two and two together, “You have disowned Preston
and Myself? You are the one that abandoned us.”
Rachel turned and looked at Mike. “We don’t have a daughter anymore.”
Mike could feel the air sucked from the room. He moved towards his wife
pleading, “No, look. It’s Quinna. It is our daughter, sweetheart.” He
pulled her hands into his and looked deep in her eyes. “This is not a
mirage or either of our imaginations making something up. This is Quinna.”
“Can she prove it?” Rachel bitterly said. She knows their life is about to
end here.
Quinna steps forward and pulls a necklace. The Bajorian Locket. She
passed it over to her father. Then Quinna stepped back towards Michael.
Mike lifted the necklace up to look at it closely. He really didn’t need
the evidence. He knew. Slowly he extended the jewelry towards Rachel.
Rachel went to grab the necklace and it slipped through her hands. She
then sat in a chair. “Isn’t that they Bajoran locket..”
Quinna knelt to look at her. She picked the locket off the ground. “...
you asked me return it to you when we were together again.”
Rachel reached for Quinna and pulled her into a hug. Quinna pulled back.
She held her hands and looked at her. “What happened 25 years ago?”
It was her father that spoke first. He’d had the time for his emotions to
settle somewhat.
“That is a great question,” he started. “To be honest, we really don’t
know. The Auberjonois going into the wormhole was the last normal thing we
remember. Somehow, when we came out the other side, something must have
happened to render every crewman unconscious. When I woke up we were here,
every last one of us. We’d been deposited on this planet with enough
supplies to keep us alive for a few months and enough technology to help us
survive. That’s all we know.”
Quinna took a seat next to her mother. “What was the mission?”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know, only command staff knew.” Rachel
looked at Mike.
Mike shifted his stance. He had a rough outline of the mission parameters
but had never connected it to what had happened to them. They had all sworn
to Alexa that they just simply would never talk about it while they were
there, since it seemed unrelated. He took a breath to speak.
Captain Swenson walked in the door. She stopped Mike before he could
reveal anything. “Well Well, as I live it breath, you little Captain’s
Mate.” Alexis walked closer and pulled Quinna into a deep hug, “We need to
talk, now”
Mike was relieved that he had been interrupted, but then had a moment of
anxiety and disappointment at this magical moment being disrupted by the
one person who had abandoned her command position.
“Is this really a good time?” he asked.
Rachel stood, “We were going to go home for dinner.”
“Sorry, dinner will have to wait.” Alexis said as she looked over at
Leal.
Leal, on the other hand, was ecstatic to see Alexis almost looking like her
old self. She was exuding command. She so badly wanted to back her up.
Alexis spoke, “Rachel, why don’t you take Quinna and her companion home.
Mike will be home soon.”
Rachel nodded, “Lets go. You can meet your brothers, and you Mr. Weston
can tell me how long you have been sleeping with my daughter.”
Rachel took both Michael and Quinna’s arm and led them away.
Alexis waited until they were out of earshot. She turned to Mike, “How
does it feel to have your dream come true? Having your little girl back.
You need to remember no matter how much time has passed, you want to tell
her, don’t you. Remember what happened to the last family who knew?”
Mike’s eyes narrowed, “You don’t need to remind me of that which I am so
painfully still aware of. It was I that had to tend to them until their
deaths. But this is another time. Circumstances have changed. And yes, I am
glad to have my Quinna back. But I am also aware of my oath.”
“We need to get rid of her. But find out what she knows first.” Alexis
was still protective of the last mission.
“What do you mean, get rid of her, Alexis?” Mike asked. “Surely she’s here
to bring us home. And clearly, she knows nothing of our mission. How could
she? I will not abandon my girl a second time.”
Leal stepped forward and put a tender hand on Alexis’ shoulder. “Alexis,
this is a conversation for later. Right now allow him the time to get
reacquainted with his child. Others might want to see her as well.” She
put a soft hand to her loves face. “Please, my love.”
Alexa looked at Leal and then back to Mike. “Protect the family.” She
turned and left.
Leal watched as Alexis left. It had been the first time she professed her
feelings in front of someone else, but she was pretty sure that Mike had
already known her heart. Then she turned and looked at Mike.
“What the hell was that all about?” obvious anger in his voice. “Get rid of
her?! Is she serious?”
Leal shook her head, “I’m not sure. But Quinna showing up is sure being up
some old feelings for Alexis.” She put a hand on Mike’s shoulder, “I’ll
talk to her. Go, see to your family. And Mike… congratulations, it’s a
girl.”
Mike couldn’t help but smile. He threw his hands around the Mayor and
hugged. “I’ve got my girl back. I never thought I would.”
With that he ran out of the infirmary towards home. Leal watched and
couldn’t help her own smile. There was a glimmer of hope that they’d all go
home that she hadn't had the day before. Perhaps a chance for everyone to
start over.
With a sigh she went to find Alexis.
(reply none)
(posted by Kris B and Al M)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1532) SFI DD - Michael Weston
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Sat, 25 Apr 2026 09:30:08 -0700
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(Planet Auberjonois - Main Compound - Solice Habitat- SFI DD - Michael
Weston - 1532)
When the boy opened the door to the habitat Michael couldn’t help but
notice the family resemblance almost immediately. It was the eyes. They
were the same piercing blue eyes.
“I’m Bryce,” the boy said.
“I am Quinna,” Quinna replied holding out her hand.
The boy shook her hand in the way children do, but then there seemed to be
more to it. The boy looked at Quinna with a deeper gaze, thoughtful.
“Daddy is in the infirmary,” Bryce offered. He withdrew his hand and closed
the door.
“Well that was something,” Quinna said off handedly.
Was it possible that she missed it. Or maybe he was reading more into it
than was there.
“You have really created something here,” Quinna went on. “I guess stranded
in paradise who can complain. Just need some cabana boys.”
Leal smiled, a knowing smile, like she had a secret. “Paradise? Perhaps
not so much. But we’ve done what we could with what we had. Considering.”
Quinna gave Michael a wink and a wry smile. Leal turned to head to the
infirmary. As Michael fell into step he turned to the woman leading them.
“Did that young man call you Mayor?” he asked.
Leal smiled, “Yeah, it’s kind of an honorary title. It felt being called
Commander while we were no longer on a ship, and after a while we no longer
felt part of the Federation. So… Mayor, since I became the leader of the
colony after Captain Swanson abdicated her role.”
“Now there’s a story,” Michael said, hopefully.
“One for another time,” Leal said as they stepped onto an impromptu porch
that led into the infirmary.
They all went inside, finding themselves in a small room that seemed to be
set up as a waiting area. It made sense that after so long they created
things as close to normal as possible. All that was missing were magazines.
A man stepped out and greeted them. The man stopped for a moment, shock
across his face. He suddenly threw his arms around Quinna say, “By the
prophets.”
Quinna held on for a moment and managed to get his name out. “Uncle Benny.”
When she finally extricated herself from the embrace she motioned to
Michael.
“Lt. Weston, this is my godfather, Anders Benjamin,” she said, with a
strained voice.
Michael stepped forward and offered his hand, “Dr. Benjamin, it truly is a
pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” the doctor replied. “Most people round here call me
Ben around here.”
They shock hands. The older man had a good, strong grip. Micheal liked him
immediately.
“Everyone calls me Michael,” he returned. “Some call me Mikey,” he added
with a smile, “but nobody calls me Lieutenant.”
Suddenly Ben called out, “Hey Mike, are you coming.”
Michael watched in anticipation for what was about to transpire.
(reply none)
(posted by Al Mui)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4-1535) Commander Quinna Solice and Michael Weston
From: almuir62 at gmail.com (Al Muir)
Date: Fri, 10 Apr 2026 19:21:05 -0700
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois - Bridge – Commander Quinna Solice and Michael Weston -
1535)
Quinna looked at Michael, “Mr. Weston, lets go see what we can find for Lt.
Green. Her head pointed the way to the turbolift on where he should go.
She stepped forward to the lift and it opened. She stood in the door and
waited for Michael to join her.
Michael raised an amused eyebrow and followed Quinna. “One crock pot coming
up.”
“Any suggestions?” Quinna asked as the turbolift doors closed.
“Suggestions?” Michael asked. “For Raven or for something else?”
Quinna smiled and backed Michael to the bulkhead. I glint in her eyes, “I
am always for something else.” She whispered into his ear.
Michael smiled and pulled her into a hug. Then he stepped back. “Seriously
Commander, do we need an HR conversation?” Then he pulled her back in.
“How are you holding up?”
“Actually, to be honest, I am anxious to go down to the planet and I don’t
want to wait even if I know I should.” Quinna said in a way that she asked
for his insight without even asking for his insight.
Michael gave her a squeeze and said, “I’m not sure how much more security
we really need. Sometimes a smaller show of force might be better in
certain circumstances. And if it is the crew of the Auberjonois, and they
do know that we are here, they’re going to want to see someone soon, not in
an hour. So I’m game.”
Quinna nodded, “So we go down. You and me. Lets find the pot for Raven.”
Michael had to laugh, "You must know how that sounds.” Then he
straightened up to near attention. “Yes ma’am. One pot, coming up.”
“And for the record, you are here as my emotional support boyfriend,
Flirting with you is completely in the job description.” Quinna stood
facing the turbolift door.
“Realllly,” Michael said suggestively. “In that case…”
He swept her into his arms and pressed her against the wall of the turbo
lift. His face moved to hers and kissed Quinna, long and hard, filling the
embrace with his love. When he was done he turned back to the door with
his hands behind his back.
“Feeling supported?” he asked.
Quinna nodded, “A bit, yeah.” She had that goofy grin on her face.
“Exactly that support I was looking for.”
“There’s more where that came from,” Michael said softly. Then the door to
the turbo lift opened leading them back to the crews quarters.
(USS Auberjonois - Bridge – Commander Quinna Solice and Michael Weston -
1535)
Quinna stepped out of the turbo lift and after a few strides, there they
were. In front of them was the Solice Quarters. This time the door was
open and Quinna could see in. She noted the potted plant in the corner.
She knew her parents. It was fake. Quinna walked over and pulled the plant
out trying not to look at anything else. She already had her emotional
rendezvous in her father’s office.
She threw the silk plant out and lifted the pot. “This would be perfect, I
hope.”
Michael watched as Quinna seemed move unphased through the main quarters.
She was working hard at not looking around. Perhaps she didn’t want to take
the time to deal with the emotions right now. She was too anxious to get
down to the planet. He decided not to press her on the issue and went with
her flow.
Putting a hand on her shoulder he smiled. “I guess if all Raven needs is a
pot to… sit in, that should do.”
“Let's get this back to Lt. Green and then let’s beam down to the
surface,” Quinna said.
“Whatever you say,” he replied and followed her back out to the corridor
and back to the turbolift.
(reply none)
(posted by Kris and Al)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (4 - 1550) Commander Quinna Solice
From: msklbailey2016 at gmail.com (Kris Bailey)
Date: Sat, 11 Apr 2026 11:59:52 -0500
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 4
Stardate: 2446.10.19
(USS Auberjonois - Bridge – Commander Quinna Solice - 1550)
After returning to the bridge. Quinna made her way to Raven. She held out
the planter, “Lt. Green, I hope this helps.”
(Reply Green)
“If you like privacy, there is the ready room, or the conference room.”
Quinna offered.
(Reply Green)
“Look, Mr. Weston and I are going to beam down. We still have a mission to
complete. After you regenerate, contact us and we will see where we are at
and if needed to beam down.” Quinna said as she was not at a place where
she could predict where they will be.
(Reply Green)
(Reply any)
(Posted by Kris B)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (5 - 08.00 LT Raven Green)
From: thedukeej at yahoo.com (Edward Engel)
Date: Sun, 12 Apr 2026 17:26:17 +0000 (UTC)
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 5
Stardate: 2446.10.20
(USS Auberjonois - Transporter room LT Raven Green 08.00)
After a cycle of regeneration Raven was ready to beam to the surface. She was confident CDR Solice and Michael could handle beaming down without her as security support. The regeneration sitting in that pot was unusual but effective . It wouldn't be the first time she had to improvise with a regeneration cycle. She will not need to have a regeneration cycle for 8 hours since she completed one at 24.00 last night. Hopefully there is a means to regenerate on the surface if not she will deal with it. She tapped her COMM badge.
"LT Green to CDR Solice what is the status on the surface Ma'am"
That should be sufficient to see what they needed of her.
(Reply Solice, Any)(Posted by Edward)
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SBFREEDOM-RPG: (5 - 08.01 LT Raven Green)
From: thedukeej at yahoo.com (Edward Engel)
Date: Sat, 18 Apr 2026 15:47:27 +0000 (UTC)
Mission: Homecoming
Day: 5
Stardate: 2446.10.20
(Planet Auberjonois At the force field LT Raven Green - 08.01)
After she transported, Raven stood at the edge of a force field indicated by her tricorder. She equipped the standard items for security with a tricorder, a hand phaser clipped to her belt and other items in pockets of her belt like rope. She saw a village on the other side of the force field. She identified herself.
"I am LT Raven Green. I am with CDR Solice and LT Weston who beamed down yesterday. They should be expecting me."
She looked like a normal human without close inspection. Her gold security uniform should be enough to allow her certain rank and position understandings. She waited for someone to acknowlege her.
(Reply Any)(Posted by Edward)
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