Star Trek: Season 7 - Masquerade

[X]

Aria James found herself dancing in her quarters as she pondered Doctor Drett's suggestion. Her slender body moved and bent to the soft  ballet music. She spun and twirled in rhythm to the song as her active mind considered the doctor's words.

Medicine was her talent, but it was not her destiny. She rose to the tip of her toes and lifted one leg from the floor in perfect balance. She loved the way it felt the help save lives, but part of her craved the excitement of command. Part of her wanted to be the person sitting in the captain's chair.

A quick leap upwards and a bow ended her private performance. She had considered the issue long enough.

"I will dedicate the next half century to the healing arts and become the best doctor that I can," she said to herself. "If Dr. Drett is willing to help me explore my career options, I should at least dedicate a part of my life to the perfection of my craft. I don't know if I want to specialize, but I do want to help people."

Aria reached for the towel that had been sitting her her chair and pat her face with it. While she did not perspire as much as other humanoid species, she did not inherit her mother's ability to avoid it all together.

She moved to the shower to quickly get ready for her date. Since mother and father would be busy with their fun disguised as research, she would keep the children occupied. She had reserved the time in one of the ship's six holosuites and didn't want to break her promise to M'rynn.

"Computer, please locate commander Sevryll and open communications if she is not in a meeting."

[X]

"It would help if it didn't take a decade between our getting to see each other." The woman said. She smiled to Aeric over the view screen. The secure communication was one of the few pleasures that he allowed himself outside of his family. They had spent much of their conversation catching the other up on things that had been happening in their lives."You really don't belong there Aeric."

"Is that your way of telling me that you miss me?" Aeric asked. He had meet Oona during his personal travels, long before the birth of Aria, but his duties had kept him from visiting as often as he would have liked. It was the same sense of duty that had bound them together.

"You are missed." She said softly.

Aeric lost himself in her light purple eyes and rich black hair. If he had to admit it to himself, he would have said that he loved her. He just couldn't admit that. He didn't have the luxury of voicing that love and continuing to turn his back on it. "I might be in the neighborhood and I would love to spend more time with you."

"You know the rules Aeric. You are more than welcome to return, but your Federation is not ready for contact." Oona said.

"I know." Aeric agreed. "I believe that this is why we aren't together as much as we would like. I swear that I will come to visit if the Arabella comes into range."

"I would hope that your ship's duties don't keep you from visiting your wife." Oona smirked. "Or perhaps it's time for me to make a visit to your life."

Aeric blinked. After thirty years of being involved with Oona, including the marriage that he found himself thrust in, this was the first time that she had offered to visit him. "If you could visit, how long would you be willing to stay?"

"A wife should not go decades without seeing her husband even if it was arranged marriage." Oona said. She knew why he hesitated in contacting her. The burden of her people's existence was a secret that he has sworn to keep. The location of her homeworld was something that he agreed to never reveal. It was never easy to maintain their secret communications and the rare times that he did manage to contact her, it was because the weight of his world was closing in on him.

Oona was his calm and his center. Each loved the other madly, but it was words that were never spoken between them.

"How would you be able to visit without revealing yourselves?" Aeric asked.

"I couldn't. I have requested permission from the council for a wife to visit her husband. If they approve, I can introduce my species to your Federation, but we won't do more than that." Oona said. He could hear the hope on her voice and it was in that moment that he realized the burden the distance had caused her. "I have been petitioning since our last communication and while they feel it is rushed, they seem ready to agree."

Aeric exhaled slowly. "That would be fantastic."

"Contact me in a month and I should have an answer." Oona said.

"I will." He replied. "Oona I .."

"I know." She cut him off. "You should know how I feel as well, but those words should not be spoken over subspace communications."

"I need to go." Aeric said regretfully.

"As do I, but hopefully we can close this distance soon."

[iceman]

A joint post by Jen and Iceman

Commander Sevryll headed to Sickbay for the mandatory physical that was required of all crew members. Duty was sometimes an inopportune obligation. She had other responsibilities, and felt the physical exams, imposed by Starfleet Command, were more than an inconvenience... they were superfluous; especially for those who had spent the majority of the past year in quarantine.  Because of the Lucas virus, she had undergone enough examinations, assessments and check-ups to last a lifetime. The results were always same—aside from the permanent side effects that made emotional suppression difficult...she was healthy. But the commander would comply with the regulation, because as first officer it was her duty to set an example.

The sickbay doors, etched with the ancient symbol known as the caduceus, parted—splitting the serpent swathed, wing-topped staff in two, and allowing the Vulcan admittance into the infirmary. As she crossed the threshold, Sevryll observed several crewmen sitting on biobeds, undergoing their physicals. They acknowledged her arrival with smiles, nods and nervous voices that cracked as they struggled to form the words, "hello, commander".  She paused to greet each of them before speaking to Doctor Drett.

"Commander Sevryll," said Ryla. "It's good to see you again. You just missed M'rynn and N'vall."

"It is nice to see you as well doctor. How was M'rynn?"

"Oh...she was fine. I had Aria perform the physical," replied the trill.  Sevryll nodded in understanding—she would need to speak to Margon soon, with regards her youngest daughter. Over Ryla's shoulder, the commander saw Doctor Peterson gesture for her to enter his office. Her eyes returned to Doctor Drett's and silently communicated her gratitude before striding toward the Chief Medical Officer.

As she approached Casey, the tall, slender Vulcan inclined her head, "Doctor," she said evenly.

"Hello Commander," replied Casey. "I know how much you hate these physicals, so lets get it over with as quickly as possible," he said as he flipped open his tricorder and stepped around the desk.

Casey thanked Sevryll for the Tuvok Orchid she sent as a wedding gift, and informed her that the rare plant was now proudly displayed in their quarters. "I wish you could have come to the wedding...but we didn't give you much notice did we?" he chucked as he moved the tricorder over Sevryll.
A hiss alerted them that someone had entered sickbay. The Chief Medical Officer looked up in time to see the other Doctor Peterson heading to his office.

"Commander Sevryll, this is my wife, Myella." He said with a proud smile. Sevryll greeted the beautiful red head and congratulated them both.

"I'm certain we will be seeing you often, Commander," said the woman. "Our quarters are across the corridor from your own. Perhaps we could have dinner together some time?"

"I would like that," replied Sevryll. "It is nice to finally meet you," she said in a pleasant alto. The Vulcan then glanced to Casey and lifted a brow, "perhaps we could discuss the surgical alterations another time doctor.  I should prepare for the training session the captain has arranged on the holodeck. I am unfamiliar with this era in Earth History and require more information regarding the culture and customs."

"Of course," Casey responded. Sevryll started to go, but the doctor called her back. "Commander...I am still dealing with a few minor physical issues caused by the Lucas virus, as are few other of our former crew mates. Please feel free to talk to me regarding any side effects you may be experiencing. I'm not only your doctor, I'm your friend, I would be happy to help you."

"Thank you doctor. I appreciate your concern, but emotional suppression cannot be achieved via medicine." A diminutive smile of reassurance tugged at her lips before she was able to stem its divulgence. It slipped away quickly as she looked down and away, "I will see you in the holodeck," she said, then nodded to the doctors and exited Sickbay.

[wraith1701]

As he stepped from the turbolift onto deck 14, the left side of K'Tan's mouth quirked up in a subtle smile of approval.  Like the rest of the ship, the appearance of this deck was softened by the soft-grey carpeting that covered the floor, but the similarities ended there.  The deck was comparatively spartan; there were no windows looking out on the starfield, and the walls and ceiling lacked the gentle curves found on the rest of the ship.  K'Tan found the sharp angles somehow comforting; the clean lines almost reminded him of the stark utilitarianism of the Klingon ships he'd served on before joining Starfleet.  All in all, he felt that the decor matched the function of the area-- the tactical department housed the material and personell responsible for keeping the Arabella and her crew safe, and it was best that the people entrusted with that task stay sharp and alert.  It just didn't seem appropriate to have them lulled into a sense of complacency by soft curves and soothing decor.

After entering the hallway that actually housed the tactical department, K'Tan paused to take in the layout of the place.  To the immediate right was the entrance to his office, and further down the hall were the workstations and briefing rooms of his subordinates.  At the end of the hallway, just before the double doors leading to the brig area, was the closed doorway to the office of the new Chief Security Officer.  K'Tan had heard good things about the man so far, and had taken a few moments to review his service record.  While he had yet to see him in action, K'Tan was impressed with the lieutenant, and felt confident that he would do a good job leading the Arabella's security team. 

K'Tan's gaze turned to the large doors leading to the training areas.  On one side of the hallway was the doorway leading to the firing range, and on the opposite side of the hall was the door leading to the physical training area.  From behind the door, he could detect the muffled clank of steel on steel.  It sounded as though the weight training equipment was being put to good use.  With a nod of approval, K'Tan made his way down the hallway to the security chief's office.  There was a certain ensign who he wanted to discuss, a crewman who had proven his worth both on the Tiberius and more recently, on Vulcan.  Perhaps he could convince D'Callen to get the ball rolling on promoting ensign Dunn to Lieutenant Junior Grade.

[Bryancd]

K'arath tried once again to stand. He pushed himself up using his arms as his upper body raised up off the floor, the floor he had been stuck to for going on 5 minutes now. Next, one by one he brought his knees towards his chest so he was now in a kneeling position, hands flat on the deck. Now he could move one foot forward to establish a point of leverage and use his leg strength to push himself up. With a titanic effort, he made it back to his feet. The clanking of the armor seemed to mock him somehow.

He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He was head to toe and what the computer assured him was a correct representation of midevil armor appropriate for a warrior of this time period. He was astonished that anyone could walk, let alone fight so encumbered. He had tripped and fell over a chair when the face mask of the helmet slammed shut, cutting off the majority of his field of view. He reached over and heaved the broad sword over his shoulder. He was sure it weighed nearly as much as he did.

He clanked out the door of his cabin in an attempt to reach the holodeck before next week. A stunned crewman stopped dead in his tracks at the sight. K'arath glowered at the young crewman, who seemed on the verge of laughter.

"Choose your next words wisely, crewman."

[wraith1701]

Joint post by HawkeyMeds and wraith1701-


As K'Tan approached the doorway to D'Callen's office, the door slid open to reveal the departing form of Ensign Dunn. The ensign smiled at K'Tan's approach.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Lt. Commander. With you and Lt. D'Callen here, I feel like we're going to have the most polished department on the ship!"

K'Tan couldn't help but return the smile.  "I get a feeling that you're right, ensign.  And if we do, it is going to be due in large part to the efforts of officers like yourself.  Carry on."  As Dunn retreated down the hallway, K'Tan stepped into the doorway.

D'Callan was standing behind his desk, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee.  Operating on autopilot, K'Tan quickly sized the security chief up:  While not quite as tall as K'Tan, the man was still a little taller than average.  He had a slim but athletic build, which was to be expected of anyone working in the security department.  D'Callens' hands were well manicured, but looked hardened- a good indicator that he wasn't afraid of physical labor.  D'Callen stepped forward with a confident stride and extended his free hand.  "Lt. Commander K'Tan, I presume?  It's good to meet you mate."

K'Tan took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake, and was pleased to see it returned by an equally strong grip.  "Lt. D'Callen.  I never had the chance to personally congratulate you on your promotion.  Based on what I've heard about you so far, I'm confident that the security department is in good hands."

With a smile, D'Callen nodded towards a seat; K'Tan took it as D'Callen sat behind his desk.  "I understand that you played an important role in apprehending one of the key villians responsible for the destruction of the Tiberius," D'Callen said.  "That was some fine investigative work."

K'Tan slightly nodded his head in acknowledgement.  "Bringing in that petaQ was very gratifying, but it wasn't done by me alone.  It wouldn't have been possible without the help of Ensign Dunn.  Which is actually what brought me here."  K'Tan leaned forward, resting his forearm on D'Callen's desk.  "Not only did Dunn help out on Vulcan, he did an outstanding job helping to maintain order during the chaotic last days of the Tiberius.  I personally witnessed him showing uncommon initiative, quick thinking under fire, and sound judgement.  I think that he has a lot of potential, and recommend that you consider him for promotion during the upcoming review cycle.  He would be a valuable asset to you."  The sincerity of K'Tan's testimonial was evident in his eyes.

D'Callan leaned back in his chair and slowly nodded his head, pondering for a moment he glanced at the cricket bat in his cabinet.  "I've only just met ensign Dunn, but I'm impressed with him so far, you have to have good members in your team to win  the games.  I'll make it a point to review his record."

K'Tan gave a sharp nod, then stood from his seat.  "I had another reason for paying you a visit.  I spent most of my formative years in the Klingon Empire, so my knowledge of earth history is a bit scanty.  I understand that you grew up on earth, and was wondering if I could pick your brain about anything you might know about the ancient kingdom of Camelot."

"Ah; the upcoming holodeck simulations," D'Callen replied with a smile.

"Exactly.  Alpha shift ends soon, and I was considering breaking in the ship's lounge area. What do you say?  First round of bloodwine is on me."

[X]

Aria James sighed as she approached the holodeck. She had just finished a program with her siblings that had them on unnamed beach learning to swim and sail. She had barely managed to complete the program before needed to be changed and ready for the Camelot program that the away team members were expected to attend.

As part of her clothing selection, she had used the follicle stimulator to add almost half a meter in length to her hair. The new length had been styled into a long single braid that still allow for a curled bang to fall on each side of her face.

While she did not mind human styled dresses, those of the era had far too many layers to be of any comfort to her. She also did not approve of the corset. Instead, she had chosen to don off white leathers, a frost colored cloak, and a mid length human sword.

The outfit seemed to highlight her exotic beauty and lend an aura of a huntress around her. She adjusted the bow and quiver that resided on her back and took a deep breath. While her medical training included primitive medical techniques, she did not wish to be placed in a situation that would require a greater level of service. She also did not wish to be placed in a situation where culture dictated her to be a fragile flower that only existed to be attractive.

This was not her idea of entertainment and it was only though her emotional control that she was able to contain her dislike of the culture. She could only hold on to the hope that the culture they were visiting did not treat its females as second class citizens.

She opened the doors to the holodeck and cautiously stepped into Earth's primitive past. Holographic arrows appeared in her quiver and she made her way down a dusty dirt path to the city that lay in the distance.

[Jen]

Sevryll spent the remainder of her shift in the her office, researching the topic of medieval society. As an archaeologist historical topics were of great interest to the vulcan and as she so often did, while studying subjects of fascination, she lost track of time.  She finished the last paragraph of the database's complete anthology of Medieval Earth history and glanced up, "computer, what is the current ship's time?"

A lackluster feminine voice promptly answered, "current ship's time is 1655 hours."

She had a little over an hour with which to prepare, and garments of this era were impossible to don alone. For this reason handmaidens were often employed to dress Medieval "laides". And so Sevryll determined that the best course of action was to be dressed in the holodeck, where servants could be replicated along with her garments. She reordered the items on her desk for the third time, and exited her office. As she proceeded through the passageway, she was stopped short of the corridor by Nathan Quinn, who had been waiting just outside her door.

The captain was clad in a handsome blue tunic trimmed in silver. About his waist was a long belt, which he tucked under once, and allowed the excess to stretch to his knees. A dagger and coin purse hung at his side and black leather gauntlets were worn on his hands.  He spread them wide, slid the pointed toe of his black, hip-high boot forward, and bowed low. "My lady," he said. After a moment he straightened to his full height and asked with a grin, "Well, what do you think?"

The vulcan took a moment to study his attire before stating flatly, "It is authentic."

"Is that all?" he asked disappointedly.

Commander Sevryll arched an eyebrow and reconsidered her comment. "It is also... aesthetically pleasing," she amended.

Nathan allowed his smile to grow and they walked together to the turbolift. "Deck 5," he announced then turned to his first officer who still wore her crisp duty uniform.

"Where is your costume, commander?"

The tall woman kept her gaze on the doors ahead and uttered evenly, "In Camelot, Captain. "

[institches]

Ryla took another pull of synthahol and watched the retreating back of the waiter. "Nice spine."

Spring took a sniff. "Yes, but that's a female. I thought we were looking at guys."

Ryla colored. "So did I! " She giggled. "I really need to learn more about that race. So, tell me more about this roommate of yours."

Spring sighed, exhaling the smell of toast and brandy. "Well, like I said, she doesn't sleep, which means she has more time to get into mischief. She likes to rearrange the living area so I never know what to expect. It's not bad, it's just..." She noticed the waiter approaching their table. "Can I get a Satellite over Risa?"

The waiter blinked. "Sure. We've had quite a run on that drink."

Her hands flew to her neck. "I forgot my gland covers!" She looked at the waiter. "Sorry about that." She looked at Ryla.  "I guess I had real craving. Remember that bar in Belize City?" The women burst into laughter, remembering. "All I wanted was a strong cup of raktijeno, and before we knew it, everyone was drinking it."

"There was almost a riot when they ran out! Good thing you controlled yourself in time or they would have torn the place apart."

"The worst part was I never got my raktijeno!" She stood.  "I've really got to get those gland covers on. I'll be right back."

"I'll come with you. I've got to see what that crazy roommate of yours has done to the living area."

"That's not fair." Spring tried to keep a straight face, but broke into honey-scented laughter. "You of all people should know that Starfleet wouldn't graduate anybody insane."

When they arrived at Spring's quarters, she turned to her friend. "Ready?"

Ryla grinned. "For anything." A note of caution was all the symbiont added.

Spring activated the door. Inside it was dark. "I guess she's not here. Computer, turn on the lights."

The minty voice replied, "Unable to comply."

The women glanced at each other. "Computer, why not?"

"All lighting appliances have been removed." The door slid shut and they were in total darkness.

"Computer, open the door."

"Password required."

Spring blew out a sour citrus cloud of annoyance. "You've got to be kidding."

"Password accepted." The door opened.

Using the ambient light from the hallway, Spring crossed to her bedroom. The door slid open without any trouble. "Computer, leave the door open and adjust lights to full."  She snatched up the gland covers, opened her uniform, and began to apply them.

Ryla followed her into the room and sat. "You know obstectrics and pediatrics is my field, but I'm branching out." Spring nodded. "So I thought I'd look into Fertillian medicine. I couldn't find much. Basic first aid, simple disease cures, mostly homeopathics. I couldn't even find a listing for a hospital. No offense, Mackie, but it's sounds pretty primitive."

Spring nodded again, still busy with her gland covers. "Oh. Well, we have very little in the way of serious medical conditions.  It's just how we evolved. Illness has a certain smell that shuts down the breeding impulse. A mate has to be healthy."

"But things must go wrong. Accidents happen."

"Sure. We fix broken bones, stuff like that. But I've got to say, the Federation's view on curing diseased organs was a real eye-opener to us. We were fascinated--it was all over the media."

Ryla leaned forward, scandalized. "You mean, you just let someone die?"

"They call it population control." Spring was emitting a calming scent, but saw that it wasn't working its usual magic. "Please don't be upset.  It's not cruel. It's natural. With our birth numbers, it just makes sense. If everyone lived and everyone mated, we'd starve within a generation."

"But what if a newborn was in distress? You'd save an infant, right? Don't you have doctors for that?"

Spring shifted uncomfortably. "Obstectrics really has no place on our world. It's not something we really discuss, or even think about. We're semelparous, like the salmon of earth." The smell of ozone leaked from her glands.

Ryla's eyes opened wide. "Really? You breed only once?"

Spring nodded. "And then we die."

Ryla Drett was silent as she considered. She peered through the darkness at the ceiling, or rather the latticework crossing it. "You were serious. She really uses this."

"She was using it in the dark." Spring's gills were wide open. "She was bumping into stuff. Ooh, she fell. Here." She pointed to a clear spot in the middle of the room.

"I'm okay." Ginny had appeared in the open doorway and was grinning at them. "I bet you're wondering about the lights. I wanted to know what it was like to be blind and I didn't want to be tempted to turn on the lights. The most successful engineer in Starfleet is blind. I was in a class where he lectured once. Well, I wasn't in the class, really. I was just surveying it."

"But he compensates--" Ryla began.

"But what if he couldn't? What if I couldn't? Anyway, Chief wouldn't let me work blind, but on my off-hours I can do what I want, so I do." Ginny leapt up the the network of bars and pulled herself into an improbable upside-down position. "I'm Ginny Sykes, Mackie's roommate, but you probably figured that out already. You're Doctor Ryla Drett. I doubt we'll ever see each other professionally--I've never been sick a day in my life--but it's nice to meet you. I think I'll take down my framework."

Spring interrupted the monologue. "No, don't. I'm experimenting with a Ba'ku vine and that would be per--"

"Okay. Have you ever listened to Klingon opera?...:" Ginny rattled on as, hanging by one leg, she pulled a tool out of her pocket and began to reinstall the lights.

[iceman]

Dr. Peterson was sitting in the living room of his quarters on Deck 2. In front of him was the clothing that he had chosen to wear . He had a white tunic with a pair of light tan coloured pants, over this a flat royal blue robe with gold trim around the sleeves would be worn and some leather shoes for his feet.

A leather belt would be worn around his waist from which a money belt would hang with some other pouches containing some medicinal herbs.

His wife helped him put the clothing on. Dr. Peterson was less then happy with the way he looked. 

He grumbled " I'm a doctor not some side show freak."

Myella smiled at her husband and tried to console him by saying, " Honey, it isn't that bad, I think it makes you look very distinguished". 

Peterson responded to his wife, " You really think so." 

"Yes", she replied as she helped him put his belt around his waist.

He was finally ready to head to the holodeck, so he kissed his wife goodbye and picked up his Pill hat and left his cabin.

[moyer777]

Margon adjusted his tunic and felt the weight of thick leather on his frame. He admired the long sleeves that went all the way to his wrists. 
"Computer" he said "extend the mirror" 

Specify the parameters, replied the computer.

"Oh, I don't care, long enough to see my whole body!" the counselor said with a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"What do you think?"

Mr. Mouse just looked up at him and the cat's eyes widened.  He ran away and hid under the couch.

"Please restate your request" the computer chirped.

"Not you computer. So Mr. Mouse you don't like me in these clothes eh?"  the Counselor grinned.  The cat growled while peering out from underneath the sofa.

Counselor Margon loathed things that hurt others, he didn't enjoy fighting, even though he knew how.  This period of time though was rough at best.  He would have to put his personal irratations aside to complete this mission.  He would have to tolerate making weapons of a primitive nature, and he did like animals, and working with people.  After much research he considered being himself in this holo deck excursion.  He almost chose being a Monk, but according to his research the religious system during these times was somewhat corrupt and distant from the people.  The closest thing he could find to a counselor was someone almost everyone needed to talk to at one time or another, the blacksmith.

He was glad that the Dr. had given him something for his arthritis as he would soon be wielding his hammer, shoeing horses and forging swords and armor.

Of course it was rather comical to look at a blue blacksmith.  He knew that would be taken care of when they reached the planet, so for the time being he would raise a few eyebrows and cause a few chuckles. 

Margon rubbed a bit of computer simulated soot on his face and hands.  "I may as well look the part" he said as he pulled his leather boots on.  He made his way toward the holodeck with eager anticipation.

[institches]

Joint post by Moyer 777 and InStitches

Spring "Mackie" Farmer dashed down the corridor. She didn't want to be late to her first training with the senior officers. So far, she had only met Sevryll, the chief science officer, and she wanted to make a good impression. The train of the dress flipped around and tripped her, but she caught herself on a bulkhead. She grabbed at the long flap of glittery fabric and threw it over her arm, hiked up her skirts and sped to the turbolift door.

She was just pushing the tall conical hat back on top of her head when the door slid open, revealing the chief counselor, Margon. He was dressed in utilitarian leathers, and looked reasonably comfortable, in stark contrast to the stretchy, sequined fabric Spring had stuffed herself into. He smelled amused.

She stepped inside and flung the trailing veils from her face.

"Ensign Farmer, I presume," the counselor caught her as she tripped again on the high heeled shoes.

Almost as quickly as she fell, the soot on the counselor's hands soiled the bright pink cloth of her outrageous gown. 

"Sorry about that, Ensign. Is this the costume you are really wearing on our adventure?"  he smiled.

"Well, it's not the new uniform!" A sweet, fruity smell encompassed the Fertillian as she mentally backpedaled. "Uh, Sir."

"I'm afraid we should do some more research before you enter the holodeck.  Not only have I made a mess out of your gown, but  I think you might be overdressed for the occasion.  Have you been reading romantic ancient Earth novels?"

"When I pulled up 'Camelot' on the computer in my quarters, this was the suggested costume." She scratched at her midsection. "Ginny helped me to personalize it, though."

The counselor halted the turbolift and looked at Spring.  "Besides your uncomfortable clothing, how are things going?" he asked in a warm tone.  "I can imagine this has been somewhat of an uncomfortable experience so far."

"Well, they say your first assignment either takes you or breaks you, but I think---"

"I think you have quite a challenge on your hands with your roommate.  But it's one that I think you are up to."  He smiled again and the turbolift resumed.

"Oh," Mackie adjusted the sparking golden hat, but only succeeded in setting her blonde wig even further askew. She started to blow out a reassuring cloud of scent but was hampered by the gland covers. "Ginny and I are getting along. She's great. It's good to be around someone who's so driven."

"Yes, but you will probably need to establish some boundaries or you could easily burn out with a roommate who never sleeps. I believe you are up to that!" 

"Boundaries." Mackie paused and frowned. "Let me put it this way: I haven't had a raktijeno since I met her. I don't need one."

He looked at her and tried not to laugh.  "I think you both have a little to learn about Earth history. Your roomate helped you pick something from an ancient Earth comedy, not the authentic medieval ages. If you'd like, we can proceed to the holodeck and order up the appropriate clothing." 

The counselor liked the Ensign, she was fascinating.  He hadn't ever spent anytime with her species and was pleasently surprised by her sincerity and sense of humor.

[Jen]

"That is enough," said Sevryll in a tone that barley registered as restrained. The handmaidens bowed and quickly stepped away. Much like the society of this era, the cincher they had tightened about her torso was constricting. She took a labored breath and attempted to readjust the medieval torture device. When at last she had managed to wiggle it into place, Sevryll raised her gaze to meet the three puzzled women who watched her in the mirror. Moments before, they had finished brushing her long, black hair—all that remained for them to do, was dress her in the gown. Sevryll nodded to the door, "I can manage the rest, thank you," she said in a gentler tone.

The women filed out one by one—the last shooting her a frustrated glance before leaving the frigid chamber. Sevryll raised an eyebrow at the plump middle-aged woman's silent argument, before moving to pull on the crimson gown. Fortunately the fasteners were in the front and she was able to lace it up herself. Once she had completed the task, she evaluated her reflection in the mirror and found it satisfactory.

Sevryll was to take the role of Gwenevere, the unfaithful queen of Camelot. Though the woman's character diverged at a hard right angle from Commander Sevryll, the vulcan found the ruler nonetheless fascinating. The cold castle summoned a shiver, and in response, the slight vulcan moved to slip on the heavy wool robe that was spread over the large canopy bed. After pulling the hood over her crowned head, she left the room and descended the spiraling stone stairs, to the lower room. The flaming torches that lined the wall cast long shadows, telegraphing her approach to those whose voices echoed below. Their conversations grew louder as she approached. The subjects were enjoying a feast, one that she was certain was devoid of vegetarian dishes. Perhaps she could claim the apple that was tastefully stuffed in mouth of the pig that had been positioned near her place setting. She stifled a grimace and continued down the stairs.

[Meds]

Joint post by Wraith1701 and HawkeyeMeds

The lounge was pretty full but D'Callan and K'Tan looked slightly out of place. Joe, wearing armour and a black tunic, fiddled with his sword belt, while K'Tan spun a staff round in a precise manner. Joe suddenly ducked as the staff spun by him, narrowly missing his head.
"I gather you have done this before then?"

K'Tan looked down at the crouched Chief.

"In a manner of speaking.  I'm familiar with the Vulcan lirpa, which is similar to this.  But the lirpa has a curved blade on one end, and a bludgeon on the other."  He gave the staff another spin, then smacked the end down firmly on the deck.  "This is a nice, solid weapon; exquisitely balanced."  K'Tan smiled.  "I think I like it."

Joseph stood up slowly.

"This armour is heavy, and this mace is going to be fun to use"

He lifted the heavy solid weapon up to show K'Tan, who observed it with a certain glee.

"That is a fine weapon. What's it used for?"

Joe smiled and held it up.

"Bludgeoning mate, purely for bludgeoning."

The two men laughed and clinked their glasses filled with blood wine together.

Joe looked around at the other crewmen and realized that several of them had conveniently moved away.

"I think, K'Tan. Maybe we should leave."

The pair slammed their glasses down on the counter and walked out of the lounge, leaving a crowd of bemused crewmen in their wake.  As they approached the turbolift, they heard a familiar voice calling from behind.

"Hey; hold the lift, please!"

The pair turned in unison, and their jaws dropped.  Striding towards them was a man wearing more colors than K'Tan was aware existed.  The man's pants bore a checkerboard pattern of alternating purple, yellow and orange, and his tunic was a chaotic swirl of red, green, and blue.  D'Callan raised a hand to shield his eyes, and attempted to suppress a grin.  "Better call sickbay, mate; I think I've just been blinded!"

K'Tan felt as though his eyes were under assault as well, but it was the multicolored hat sitting on the man's head that drew his attention the most.  While the hat bore the same insane coloration as the rest of the man's outfit, what K'Tan found most alarming were the four long, drooping, tentacle-like protrusions that drooped from the hat.  Each protrusion ended in a small bell; as a result, the man's head jingled as he drew near.

"I don't mean to alarm you, Dunn, but I think an octopus is trying to eat your brain," K'Tan deadpanned.

[X]

Aeric took a seat in the captain's chair while the remainder of the command staff conducted their training on the holodeck. According to new Starfleet regulations, the main viewer remained off when not needed to prevent "star field hypnosis".

Between his mental connection to the ship and the information provided by the captain's display, Aeric monitored all primary systems and several key subsystems. The new routines for the warp field were functioning well within specification and only a perfectionist would have noticed the slight fluctuations.

"Ensign Harper," Aeric said to the young human at the conn station. "Adjust your heading by point zero zero six degrees on the X axis."

"Aye sir," the young man replied.

It was a simple course correction that would shave several hours off of the trip by making use of a recently detected gravity well instead of passing through it.

As he watched the man input the course corrected, a part of the Lieutenant Commander realized just how much he missed being at the conn of a starship. His sense of duty had placed him along the command path, but his passions were still design and starship piloting.

A part of him also wanted to be on the away mission, but again his duties came first. There were so many things that he missed, but he also loved that path that he walked.