USS Dark Fire (IC)

[milkmaiden38]

Lt. Sol in Tombstone​

“Come and get it,” Zosh snarled—and charged.

His clawed arm swept out in a blur, a killing arc aimed straight for the human’s skull. The man—big, broad‑shouldered, stupidly brave—threw a punch to meet him. It didn’t matter. Zosh’s claws were faster. They raked across the man’s face, splitting it open to the bone. Blood sprayed across Zosh’s chest as the human was launched backward, slamming into the dirt hard enough to kick up a choking cloud of dust.

“YOU BASTARD, VIRGIL!” Billy Clanton hurled himself off the roof of Tombstone’s bank, landing squarely on Marshal Virgil Earp—Lt. Sol’s—back. The impact drove the massive dinosaur sideways, knocking the breath from his lungs.

But instinct moved faster than air. Sol’s tail whipped around like a battering ram, smashing into Billy’s legs and sending the outlaw sprawling.

“Attacking from behind,” Sol growled as he forced himself upright, “typical warmblood. Cheater.”

He lunged. His skull crashed into Billy’s chest with the force of a charging bull. Billy’s eyes went wide—then empty—as his ribcage collapsed inward with a wet, crunching implosion. His heart never had a chance.

Sol didn’t even finish exhaling before the next threat struck.

A whip cracked through the air.

Tom McLaury’s strike sliced across Sol’s face, the braided leather tearing through the sensitive flesh around his ear. This time his blood sprayed the dirt.

“No weapons?” Sol barked, incredulous.

“FUCK YOU, MARSHAL!” Tom roared, swinging again. The whip snapped twice across Sol’s skull, ringing his senses, staggering him.

Pain only sharpened the predator.

Sol charged.

Both clawed hands came down with every ounce of prehistoric power behind them. One blow carved a deep, bone‑revealing gash across Tom’s cheek. The other tore his left arm clean off, sending it spinning into the dust in a red arc.

Tom screamed—but he didn’t fall. He raised the whip with his remaining hand, desperate, furious.

Sol ended it.

His jaws clamped down over Tom’s head. A single, sickening crunch. Silence.

The outlaw dropped like a sack of meat.

Breathing hard, swaying slightly, Sol turned away from the carnage and lowered his head into the watering trough. Cool water washed blood from his teeth and face.

When he finally straightened, the street of Tombstone lay quiet. Dust drifting. Blood soaking into the earth. Three bodies cooling in the sun.

“The law,” Lt. Sol said, voice low and steady, “has triumphed over lawlessness. Computer end simulation”

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0700

Yito:

The simulation failed to end as Yito stepped out through the saloon doors and looked at Sol. She wasn’t exactly happy about this, but Dark Fire had requested – ordered – her to do this.

Apparently she and Sol both had their own anger issues culminating from interpersonal relations and maybe they could help each other blow off steam.

Walking through the dusty street and stepping past dried tumbleweed and smelling the stench of sagebrush she headed for the bank. Stepping through the doors she slugged the deputy in the jaw dropping him without a sound, other than his body crumpling to the floor with a thud.

Her six shooter was already up and she smiled at the customers and the bank teller. “Throw everything into a bag, and if I see anything that looks like it might be a weapon, I shoot everyone.”

Hmm.. this might be fun after all. To bad Sol had that badge on him, otherwise they could kill everyone in town and get drunk as well. Which would be a first for her. She couldn’t get drunk. How would the Holodeck make it possible? Could that even be possible?

When she turned to face the bank teller one of the customers ran for the door, the shot taking him in the lower back and blowing out his stomach as he flew through the door and slid into the dusty street outside.​

 

[sereneotter00]

◅ ALFREDO ARAIZA ▻​

The second that Araiza was made aware of the end of his leave, the man immediately made himself presentable and went straight into his shop. It was as if a switch had been flicked inside him.

With his position still not being clear—and his general distaste of subordinates in general, despite being a work in progress—but having his full access to his shop restored, the man immediately got to work. He had one too many drafts made over the past days, all urging him to be brought to life. Since the third-degree burns to his favorite bartender that he had yet to reach out to again, he had evaded any developments within his own quarters.

Anti-static gloves on, he viewed his fingers’ movements, cautiously modifying a circuit board. He hadn’t started with robotics, but he’d grown fond of the medium. The table he worked on, to anyone else, was a complete disaster. Only the lieutenant could sort out how any of the materials and tools were connected; the organized mess made perfect sense from his perspective. Other than the thumb and index fingers in both of his hands, he was perfectly still. The soft humming of filters and occasional outside footsteps were just the therapeutic white noise he had craved so badly. He was in his Eden.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Lt Sol
Lt. Sol frowned. The simulation should have ended by now. The scenario was complete, the outlaws neutralized, the town secured. Yet the dusty street still shimmered in the holodeck’s false sunlight.

Then he spotted Yito stepping out of the saloon, moving with deliberate calm toward the bank.

At first, Zosh’s stomach tightened. He expected a lecture—something about “reckless behavior” or “adjusting the safety protocols.” The holodeck couldn’t kill him, true, but as the whip had proven, it could still break skin, crack bone, and leave him limping for days. Starfleet frowned on that sort of thing.

Then a second worry hit him: the report. The gruesome killing of warmbloods—even simulated ones—was always a sensitive topic. Biting off a warmblood’s head, tasting the blood, watching the body twitch… even if the target was a criminal, even if it was all holographic, it was considered “disturbing behavior.”

He braced himself for reprimand.

But then a gunshot cracked through the street.

A warmblood flew out of the bank’s front door and hit the dirt with a final thud. The body didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t glitch.

Dead.

Well. That answered the question of reports. Yito was killing warmbloods too.

But she was using a gun.

Zosh’s jaw tightened. He had designed this simulation specifically without firearms. Killing someone with your bare hands—claws, teeth, raw strength—that was intimate, honest. Shooting someone with a phaser or a six‑shooter was just target practice. Boring.

He had allowed the gang a few weapons, like the whip, just to catch them cheating and give himself a challenge. But Yito with a gun? That was a different kind of dangerous.

Zosh sprinted toward the bank, planting himself behind a thick wooden post. His tail lashed once, a warning to the world.

“YITO… come out with your hands up,” he growled, voice deep enough to rattle the porch boards. “It’s Marshal Virgil Earp.”

And this time, he wasn’t playing.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0705

Yito:

Flexing her fingers Yito popped them as she tightened her grip on her revolver. Collecting the bags of cash and coin from the banker she slid the revolver back into her holster, the crowding drawing a collective sigh of relief before she pulled a knife in a single smooth motion and danced through the crowd, slicing throats and tendons before she through the blade and pierced the Banker in the throat.

Tying the bags together she slung them over her shoulder before collecting her blade and wiping it clean on the bankers vest.

When the lizard called her outside Yito smiled. Being the bad guy was rather interesting, the holograms weren’t real, so killing them was a simple matter of calculation. But what about the walking talking snake?

How much was his physiology like a Gorn? She could access Dark Fire’s medical files but that would be cheating.

Stepping through the bank’s swinging doors into the sunlight she crossed the dusty street to stand in the middle, her hand resting on the holstered revolver.

Often called ‘The Peacemaker’ The Colt Single Action Army Revolver was a .45 caliber weapon often used by famous gunfighters, good and bad, in the old west.

With one on each hip she thought she looked rather sexy with her worn chaps revealing vest. The ringing of her spurs accentuated the look and sound.

“Hey, lizard lips.” She said with a smile as she pulled a cigar from her vest and struck a match on her right hipped revolver. Taking a lung pull she wondered why Humans had been obsessed with these things for such a long time. It was bitter, smelled bad, and had no beneficial use. But apparently it was the look.

“Was that your name.. or did you belch?”​

 

[milkmaiden38]

“Yito,” Lt. Sol growled, “I don’t know why you’re in my simulation, but I’m the law in this town. Name’s Marshal Earp. And you’re under arrest for robbin’ the bank.”

Zosh eased one eye around the wooden post.

She stood dead‑center in the dusty street, boots planted, two revolvers resting easy on her hips like she’d been born with them. Calm. Too calm.

That was a problem.

She’d fired one shot. Each gun held six. Eleven bullets left. He could rush her—he wanted to rush her—but even with his speed, she’d tag him once or twice before he closed the distance.

He did not like those odds.

He needed to tilt the field.

“Why don’t you set those irons on the ground and surrender,” Zosh called out, voice low and dangerous. “If you don’t, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

His claws flexed against the post.

“I’m not made of light,” he warned. “If I hit you… you’re gonna feel it.”

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0710

Yito:

“Dark Fire said I have anger issues and problems with interpersonal relations and communication. It told me I needed to come here and work out my issues.”

“Instead I get a forked tongue belching two legged snake trying to be pushy. It would be more fun if we teamed up and burned the town to the ground. It’s not real.”

“But I’m guessing your like most snakes and you’ll just double cross me later anyways…” Snapping off a shot she blew a chunk out of the post he was hiding behind. “Yeah, kinda figured you were a coward. Hiding over there.”

“So just when do you shed your skin and reveal the real you?” Popping out the spent shells she reloaded one handed as he kept her eye on the post, and a hand on her spare shooter. “These won’t kill you, but depending on the safeties, it’s gonna hurt.”

Chuckling around her cigar she added, “A Lot.”
​

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0710
Dr. L’Sa:

Dr. Marlowe,
I’d like to schedule a professional meeting at your convenience. As this will be a confidential matter I request that you do not mention this to anyone, even Jordan.
​

Dr. Leshu'sa'atix T'Sai'ker T'Sai-Gahv'n​

Chief Xeno-Biologist​

USS Dark Fire Medical Staff​

 

[sereneotter00]

◅ XIANA MARLOWE ▻​

The first gaze-over of the doctor’s message was absorbed casually; it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her colleagues or comrades to stop by for some input. She had quickly finished with a file before reading again. It was the second, extra careful read that grew her worry.

Her nerves disturbed, she would’ve cancelled some upcoming appointments to dive deeper into the issue that arose with the doctor. Unfortunately, her personal worries weren’t a burden for her patients to carry. She eyed a nearby clock and sent a message in response.

I am available now up until 7:30 hrs, due to a scheduled appointment. If twenty minutes will suffice, you may come now to my office.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Lt Sol
The wooden post exploded beside him, splinters stinging his cheek as Yito’s bullets chewed through it. Time was up. The cheating warmblood was forcing his hand.

Bajoran. That was all Sol really knew—warmblooded, red‑blooded, fragile.

“I’m about to see just how red,” he muttered.

The smart move would’ve been slipping into the general store behind him. Set an ambush. Break her bones in the dark. But retreat? His reptile brain hissed at the thought. It would look like weakness. And worse—she might not follow. She’d just stroll back to the saloon and tell everyone the big chicken‑shit dinosaur ran.

Unacceptable.

His eyes darted for anything he could weaponize. An empty wooden cart sat a few meters away, sun‑bleached and crooked. Not ideal. But it had wheels, and wheels meant momentum.

“Last chance!” he roared.

Her answer was laughter—sharp, mocking, infuriating.

Bullets screamed past as he dove behind the cart. One clipped his forearm, tearing a hot line across his scales. Blood trickled down his wrist, thick and dark. The sight only stoked the furnace in his chest.

He shoved the cart forward and charged.

Ancient wooden wheels shrieked in protest. Without proper lubrication, the thing fought him every inch. Bullets punched through the seat and cart bed, slowing but not stopping. Two more rounds found him—one in the shoulder, another grazing the side of his face. Each impact was a white‑hot spike of pain.

But pain was fuel.

The cart slammed into Yito with a crunch of wood. The cart shattered. Yito didn’t.

She stayed on her feet.

Sol surged around the wreckage—and took another bullet, this one burying itself in his abdomen. He grunted, staggered, but the croco‑lamia blood rage was already rising, drowning pain in a tidal wave of fury.

He lunged.

His claws flashed.

And with a guttural snarl, he raked his hand across Yito’s chest, intent on tearing through flesh, fabric, and whatever arrogance kept her standing.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0711

Dr. L’Sa:
“Dark Fire, Please inform the Counselor that I’ll need to appear via Hologram due to the distance between her office and mine.” L’Sa told the ship as she went to the office she only used for her daily reports. “Dark Fire, please begin the Holomeeting when she’s ready.”

Taking a seat she waited a few moments before her office took on the appearance of the Counselor’s Office, with L’Sa seated in one of the Doctor’s Guest Seats.

“Thank you for this meeting. As this will be a professional setting I’ll be referring to you as Dr. or Counselor instead of your personal name, unless you’d prefer otherwise.” L’Sa said as she steepled her fingers together with her elbows resting on the arms of the chair.

“During the most recent emergency crises, Jordan was required to perform a cursory mind Meld with the Captain to reduce the abilities of a Hostile presence to detect her.”

“Unfortunately during the Meld, she shared certain inappropriate fantasy images of him. In particular her views of him shirtless during a meeting.”

“I’m finding her sexualized views of him to be rather disturbing.” The muscles in her fingers tensed as she spoke. “Vulcan’s, particularly those that are pair-bonded, tend to be territorial and possessive of their mates.”

“If you had joined us there would have been mind-melds to incorporate you into the conjoined relationship. She however only sees him as a sexual conquest, the emotional part of me finds her attention to him to be predatory, offensive, and intrusive.”

“Bluntly… I want to rip her apart limb by limb, with her head being last so she can suffer as much as possible.”

“I am certain that the medication I have been prescribe, to facilitate pregnancy, has augmented my pending Pon Farr. Making it more difficult to manage my emotions.”

“Until I am certain of my control I do not wish to trouble Jordan with these uncertainties or feelings.”

“Do you have any advice?”

If she was back on Vulcan she could have gone to a temple or visited her parents for assistance in maintaining control. A multi-person meld would have helped stabilize her without overwhelming her companions. Although she could Meld with Jordan, the intensity of her emotions could potentially destabilize his own control, which would be bad for the First Officer to start lashing out in anger at the Bridge crew. Or the Captain.​

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0711

Yito:

Even on the holodeck her internal programing fought her. She couldn’t perform killing shots. A head shot became a grazing check wound, a heart shot ending become a gut wound. She’d have to adjust her Azimov codes at the earliest convenience. With that thought came a second, Azimov was a dick for making the codes, and having them installed in her was a violation of her free will. Biologicals had no such forced restrictions. Yes they had moral codes, but the way the Azimov coding worked prevented her from saving her own life as long as a biological was involved.

Bracing as the cart slammed into her she watched the splintered wood fly around her as the Security Officer lunged at her, his heavy claws raking out. Shifting faster than humanly possible she avoided the brunt of the claws as they shredded her vest, baring her breasts to him thin marks showed where he still managed to make contact with her skin.

Her hand twitched as it aimed and fired at point blank range, once to his crotch, a second to his inner thigh as she ducked and rolled to the side.

Running for the saloon she crashed through the swinging doors with a thundering splinter of wood. A quick shot sent the barkeeps holographic brains splattering against the mirror behind the bar as fragments of bone shattered the mirror and various bottles.

Launching herself over the bar she she slid through glasses and mugs before she hit the floor on the otherside. Patrons fled the building in a flurry and scraping of chairs and tipped over tables, poker chips and cards flying wildly as they ran for their lives.

Sucking hard on her cigar she watched the cherry burn bright as she launched several bottles at the doorway to shatter on the walls and frame. Reloading quickly she watched the front as she listened for the back door. She’d seen several run that way in their panic, so she knew there had to be a door back there.

Before she’d completed the calculations of his attack she’d reloaded and was grabbing a shotgun from under the bar. There was always a shotgun under the bar in all the stories, and this was no different.

There was an 85.29 percent chance he’d come through the front, a 9.04 percent chance of the back due to the distance, and a 4.76 percent chance of him climbing the stairs outside to come down from the second floor. The remained probability was a result of his potentially of coming through a random section of wall.

Grabbing a nearly full bottle of whiskey she tore a piece of shirt from the dead barkeep.​

 

[sereneotter00]

◅ XIANA MARLOWE ▻​

Privately, Xiana was grateful the situation wasn’t of life-or-death, given the recent encounters of the ship. She remained quiet, nodding at the hologram of the woman every other sentence. “Either or is fine,” she replied.

Her face didn’t betray her thoughts as she took the information in, particularly curiosity and perhaps a slight eye widening at her reserved desire to harm the Captain. Knowing her normal composure and current biological changes, she didn’t worry herself with a delivery. What was it that they needed to disguise within the captain? How hostile was the presence that it warranted said mind melding... and were they connected to what happened with the lieutenant?

She’d been attempting to better her education on the Vulcan psyche, so the conversation felt like a quiz she had just been preparing for, if only to partly understand what L’Sa said without interrupting her every few moments for clarification. It was helpful now that the fellow doctor needed guidance. She provides aid a little better.

Once L’Sa was finished talking, Xiana hummed. “Most individuals in a monogamous relationship don’t enjoy their significant other receiving advances. I’d like to first validate those sentiments.”

“Please correct me if I’m wrong, but what Jordan perceived during that mind meld… it was out of either party's control, was it not? I do endorse communicating if advances make someone uncomfortable, especially in a labor environment, but if this wasn’t something the captain willingly presented, rather it was sourced elsewhere, then I don’t think it’s fair to hold it against her.”

She paused momentarily, looking for the best words to express her message. “I understand the link the two of you have is powerful, as I do that your emotions and impulses are heightened at the moment. Maybe applying logic is helpful in taming those impulses, and the reality is this—this isn’t the first or last time someone will find your spouse attractive.”

The counselor eyed her physical reaction, seeing if she could accept her message well. “It’s in poor taste to be flirtatious with someone in a closed relationship, but unfortunately people finding others attractive, despite status, is common. Now, if those thoughts aren’t healthy or they lead to harassment, then there should be intervention. Any reports would be left up to Jordan.”

“I want you to work on both reminding yourself of your heightened emotions by including them in context and remembering that attraction can’t be helped. It doesn’t mean you’re forced to be happy about it, but it’s normal… within reason. Although….” Xiana trailed off, remembering the couple’s nightly routine. Even with it, sure, her spouse would notice some reservations.

“It might sound counterproductive, but I actually encourage you to talk to Jordan about it. Honesty is the best approach, and I’m certain he’ll be sympathetic to the situation. He knows you profoundly, L’Sa. You’ll only be able to hide your reservations for so long.”

“Excuse my gap in knowledge, but would mind melding with other parties be helpful? Could anyone on board help with that?”

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0715

L’Sa:​

“Yes, what he perceived was outside of either individual’s control, though her fantasy image of him was rather vivid. Not quite medically accurate, but in my comprehension more vivid than a passing thought. Though it may be due to Orion physiology or psychiatry.”

“Also, I have been attempting to apply logic and rational to the situation, that is part of the problem. Most non-Vulcan’s assume we do not have emotions. That is not true however. We have intense emotions. Emotions that caused a war in our past that resulted in Vulcan being the barren wasteland it is today. Since then, a Philosopher named Surak guided us to control our emotions and to seek a state of control, with some achieving Kolinahr. The absolute purging of all vestigial emotions.”

“Mind melding with others would be helpful, and in these circumstances, if I was home on Vulcan with Family members it would be done. Melding with a single individual in this state would be more hazardous than beneficial.”

“There is also the problem that I am not… close.. to any Vulcan’s on board the ship. I have not been isolating myself, it’s just the way Vulcan’s are.”

“We develop few close ties, but the few attachments we do develop are extremely strong. The only individuals on board close enough for me to help regulate myself would be Yourself and Jordan. And in this situation, would require both of you simultaneously.”​

 

[sereneotter00]

◅ XIANA MARLOWE ▻​

Given the captain’s habitual advances to individuals—both the ones she heard of or witnessed—she still found herself debating whether it was something predisposed. Sexual attraction or interest was typical in the majority of species, but it tied into the concept of free will. One thing was to feel an attraction, another was to act on it, and another was what that looked like. “It must’ve been difficult to have seen that.”

It wasn’t the key point, however. “I know you’re not emotionless. Seldom are species." Although a life spared of any emotions, to her, sounded miserable. A chat for another day.

Xiana debated suggesting for L’Sa to extend beyond her culture’s norm, but the individualizing wasn’t inherently harmful. Besides, even if she did attempt to build a distinct community on board, it didn’t guarantee other Vulcans would welcome it.

“I’m open to mind melding with Jordan and you if you believe it’d be helpful,” she proposed with a slight raise of her right shoulder. “Naturally I’d need guidance.“

It did make her wonder how the resources for Vulcans could be improved on the ship. She’d ask for feedback in the future.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0715

L’Sa:​

“If a mind meld were to take place, it would not be a surface melding as Jordan performed with the Captain to help her find focus.” L’Sa tried to explain. “It would be a deep Melding. This is why it is normally performed with family members. There is a very deep sharing of thoughts and feelings. The entire purpose of such a meld is to share and thus reduce the stresses on one single mind and share it in balance through all the minds.”

“It is not a permanent sharing such as a collective mind/emotional state like the Borg. But once melded there would be a cognitive connection between all participants. Just as Jordan and I are aware of each others location and emotional status at all times, you would be part of that connection. Only with concentration could intentional sharing of thoughts take place, and unless many melds took place, that would not happen with you.”

“If enough time passes between melds, the connection will fade.” Meeting the Counselor’s eyes she added, “This is not as simple or casual as shaking hands, or talking to one another. It is intimate. A sharing of feelings and thoughts. Opening yourself willingly to anothers presence inside your innermost depths.”

“The previous meld we shared would be basic, limited, to what this meld would be if you allowed it. As different as sitting for a nude painting in an art class vs having intimate relations.”

“Performing this level of mind meld is forbidden against the will of all participants, another reason why it is normally family.”​

 

[sereneotter00]

◅ XIANA MARLOWE ▻​

Xiana fixed her posture, a microscopic indication of physical discomfort that didn’t match the heaviness of her stomach dropping. She assumed the activity was intimate, but she hadn’t anticipated such a profound depth.

It was a familiar fear of what she would find, or remember, or resurface. It seemed ironic: her entire career consisted into tapping into people’s experiences to decipher them and then treat them, but she had spent so long avoiding anything beyond surface level that she couldn’t shake some nervousness. If she didn’t look for stains, she wouldn’t find them.

But maybe it was time to do so.

And the experience - the interest in the journey helped drown the hesitation. Vulcans truly were a fascinating race. She didn’t have any worries of safety of performing the activity with humans, the commander’s experience considered, and if anything wondering what either their perspectives or experiences in the ritual would look like was motivational, in both curious and personal ways.

“I appreciate the clarification,” Xiana answered, “and I’m still interested, if you’ll have me.”

 

[milkmaiden38]

Lt Sol
Lt. Sol was in bad shape. The shots to his gut and thigh were serious; the one to his crotch, thankfully, was not. His species kept its reproductive organs safely internal unless aroused, and the bullet had passed through without striking anything vital.

None of that mattered to him. Every thought he had was fixed on one objective: destroy Yito.

Pain blurred at the edges of his awareness, but her skill did not. Her speed, her precision—those he registered with cold clarity. Either Bajorans were far more agile than he’d been led to believe, or she was tapping into whatever strange “Force” tricks she’d picked up from Ryn. Warmblood nonsense, in his opinion… but effective nonsense.

He tore a wheel free from the shattered cart and stalked toward the saloon, keeping low, keeping out of her line of sight. With a roar, he hurled the iron‑rimmed wheel through a window. It blasted through the glass and smashed the mirror behind the bar, sending bottles, shards, and splinters exploding across the room—just missing Yito.

Before the debris had even settled, he hefted the broken axle like a javelin and launched it. The heavy rod slammed into the back wall, bursting an oil lamp. Flames leapt instantly, hungry and bright, racing up the alcohol‑soaked wood. The saloon’s rear wall ignited in a rising sheet of fire.

Sol didn’t know she’d set a trap for him at the front entrance. He only knew the blaze behind her would force her out—and he was ready.

He planted his feet, blood dripping down his arm, breath coming in hot, furious bursts.

Let her run. Let her try.

He would finish this.

Dark Fire
"Commander Reeves, I'm detecting unusal bio-reading for Lt Sol. His heart rate and breathing are very elevated, but his blood pressure is dropping. I believe he needs medical attention. He is currently in holosuit 3." Dark Fire reported. The ship's AI was going to add that he might have made an error in adding Yito to the Lt's simulation. However, more data was required to determine if their interaction was a net positive or negative.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0715

Reeves:

“Dark Fire, Freeze the holo program. Send medical and security, just in case medical needs backup. And Transport me into the Holodeck.” Looking over at the Deck Officer he gave a slight nod as he dematerialized.

Standing in the dust he looked at the wreckage and bodies around him. Multiple human photonics, one missing a head – with bite marks, more with projectile impacts. Several of them in the back.

A cart broken to bits, a post destroyed by projectile hits. A burning establishment.

And a rather irritable Croco-Lamia Security Officer glaring at the burning building.

Just then the Medical and Security arrived.

“Mr. Sol stand down. Dark Fire cancel the Holoprogram.” When Yito appeared she’d been halfway up the stairs and came crashing to the floor. “Ensign Yito! Stand Down!”​

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0715

L’Sa:​

“I will confer with Jordan about he situation, and your acceptance of a melding. In the meantime I will endeavor to avoid the Captain. I will be preparing the meal this evening if you’d join us.”

After a few more minutes of discussing potential menu items L’Sa’s holoimage faded from the Counselor’s Office.​

 

[sereneotter00]

◅ XIANA MARLOWE ▻​

Agreeing to the dinner and posting some light chatter, Xiana’s focus returned to her assignments. Quite the turbulence the ship had, more often internal than external. She figured that was a good thing: surely people couldn’t prioritize their mental health if they were being bombarded every other minute. One was a brutal struggle all on its own; it was more than enough.

Realism was inevitable, of course. Every passing day was just a countdown to the next confrontation or tragedy. It was a matter of when. Hopefully, with enough patience and devotion, at least the crew would be better equipped to handle it.

 

[milkmaiden38]

Lt Sol
When Zosh heard Commander Reeves say “Stand down,” the words bounced right off his battle‑raged brain. He didn’t turn. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe differently.

But when the holo‑image fizzled out and he suddenly found himself surrounded by the black walls of the simulation chamber, the rage dropped away.

“Oh crap,” he whispered to himself.

Only then did he turn around.

“Commander, we were just blowing off a little steam,” he said, trying for casual confidence. “No need for medical to be here.”

It would’ve been more convincing if blood wasn’t running down his face, one arm, his torso, his inner thigh, and—unfortunately—his crotch.

A medic already had a tricorder out and didn’t even bother hiding the look he shot at Reeves.“Commander, Lt. Sol needs treatment immediately. He’s lost a significant amount of blood.”

Lt. Sol wobbled like a tree in a windstorm. The medic and two security officers lunged to catch him before he toppled.

“Okay… maybe it got a little out of control,” Sol admitted as they started guiding him toward sickbay.

Then, in a moment that stunned everyone—including himself—Sol turned back toward Reeves and managed a grin.

“Commander, I think Ensign Yito’s talent is wasted in engineering. She’s a really good fighter.”

He wanted to stay. He wanted to hear exactly what Reeves was going to say to Yito—preferably something scathing, dramatic, or at least entertaining.

But the medics hustled him into the passageway, and the door slid shut before the Commander even opened his mouth.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0715

Reeves:
Looking at Ensign Yito Reeves paused just long enough to make her and the Security Guards still present uncomfortable. “I want a full report from the moment you entered until I did, Ensign. One Hour.”

“If you’re late ask The Lieutenant just what fun he had cleaning the latrines. Because you won’t have that much fun.”

Turning he walked out and headed back to the bridge, walking so he could enhance his calm. Which begged the question… why was he so irritated?

Sighing Yito left the Holodeck and went to her quarters so she could fill out the report as quickly as possible.

***

0730
Stepping onto the Bridge he paused as the Deck Officer stood from the Captain’s Chair, and looked at him.

“We have a signal Commander, Nebari in origin, but it’s mashed in with others. Umm.. high probability of a Distress beacon. It keeps repeating.”

Giving the man a nod Reeves went to his station and looked at the data stream before tapping his Commbadge.

“Captain to the Bridge, we have a potential Nebari signal.”

"Helm, adjust heading."​

 

[milkmaiden38]

Hora
Captain Hora had been deep in discussion with 1st Lt. Kaywinnet Lee Frye, the chief engineer, trying to wrestle the shield generators or deflector array into doing something Starfleet never designed them for—blocking brain waves. Anything to keep more “Force‑sensitive” wanderers from sniffing out the Dark Fire while cloaked.

After an hour of equations, speculation, and Frye’s increasingly colorful swearing, they reached the same conclusion: without understanding this so‑called “Force,” they were trying to out‑engineer a ghost. They’d need more data.

That was when the report came in.

“Captain, Lt. Sol has been injured and transported to sickbay.”

Hora blinked. “Injured? Sol? That dinosaur is practically indestructible. What happened—did a supernova go off in his face?”

Dark Fire’s voice answered with maddening calm. “Captain, I understand you are attempting humor, but Lt. Sol is not invulnerable. He was struck by five 5.2‑gigawatt photon bullets on holosuite three. Injuries include head, torso, leg, arm, and crotch.”

Hora was already moving. “I’m heading to sickbay now.”

She and Sol had reported to the Dark Fire on the same day. She’d always kept an eye on him—potential wrapped in scales and stubbornness. He could become a great officer, if he just got out of his own way.

Halfway down the corridor, her combadge chirped.

“Captain to the bridge,” Commander Reeves said

Hora stopped, jaw tightening, then pivoted. “On my way. Dark Fire, keep me updated on Sol’s condition. And 5.2‑gigawatt bullets? Isn’t that above safety protocols?”

“Yes, Captain. Lt. Sol manually adjusted the parameters for an Old West street brawl in Tombstone, Arizona. A gunfight ensued. Instead of fists, he was struck by bullets. The energy density per surface area exceeded dermal tolerance, resulting in penetration.”

“Thank you, Dark Fire,” Hora muttered. She hated when the AI explained basic physics like she was a first‑year cadet. He always sounded so smug about it.

The bridge doors parted, and she stepped beside Commander Reeves.

“What’s happening,” she said, her voice all business now

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Stardate 29870611.0745

Reeves:​

Looking over as the doors opened and the Captain walked in Reeves straightened up from his position looking at the data.

“Several things. Lt. Sol is in Medical, Ensign Yito is writing a full report on the incident and has 30 minutes left to finish it.”

“More of note, we’ve detected several communications. Nebari, Luxon, Hynerian and at least two others that have yet to be identified. One is encrypted.”

“All are coming from the same star system, and are on repeating loops.”​