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Post by aoibheni on Dec 4, 2018 16:01:48 GMT
It's remarkable what a good bang on the head will do. With writing like this, Einar, I'm tempted to mortally wound PR more often.
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Post by Einar on Dec 14, 2018 14:19:16 GMT
Ensign Jeremiah Perez-Rome, Navigation Officer Stardate 11812.10 Location: Sickbay, U.S.S. Zorya, NCC-86273
"Phantoms"
There were so many lights.
So many sounds.
His head was muddy....muddy? Was that the right word? Muddy....muddy muddy muddy.
He tried to focus his eyes, but there was nothing but the blur and noises, alarms. Were they in battle still? Where was he?
"Look what you have got yourself into"
"Dad?" he asked, looking to his right where his father stood, dressed in the same woolen sweater as the last time they spoke, the day before he left for this assignment. "Dad, why are you here?"
"I told you this would happen. I told you Jeremiah. You´re just going to get yourself killed, just like he did. That´s all Starfleet does out there in space, kill and die. It´s not right"
Jeremiah tried to sit up "What do you.....what´s going on?"
"Shh...leave the boy alone" his mother said, stepping out from the shadows. Taking her spot at his father´s side "He wants this...you remember wanting things? The drive that runs you Rome types into all sorts of trouble" she smiled and winked at Jeremiah before putting an arm around his father´s waist. "He´s driven, just like you and just like his uncle was"
"You always encourage this behavior" his father said, stepping away from his wife and walking to the opposite side of the bed.
Bed.
Biobed....he was in Sickbay.
"You set the example, jetting off into space....you should have set a better example for your son"
"Mom...dad, please" he pleaded, still struggling to sit up. "Please stop"
"You´re going to die out there" his father said, his voice low and seething with disappointment. Again.
"Then he will do so, fighting for something just and not sitting behind a desk his whole life"
Jeremiah looked to his feet, seeing his uncle standing there in his dress whites. A comforting hand on his leg.
"Jeremiah....wake up"
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Post by Chris H on Dec 20, 2018 16:11:32 GMT
How many lights where there? Where there 4?
Nice log man.
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Post by Einar on Jan 2, 2019 16:31:54 GMT
Ensign Jeremiah Perez-Rome, Navigation Officer Stardate 11812.10 Location: Sickbay, U.S.S. Zorya, NCC-86273
Joint log with OPS Cordan
Cordan, taking a break from assisting with trying to separate the two science officers, walks over to the ICU where his good friend, Jeremiah, is currently situated after being thrown across the Bridge.
He enters the ward, spotting Jeremiah sitting in a raised biobed, playing a holographic game of some sort involving pieces of candy. Jeremiah spots Cordan and swiftly disengages the game with a swipe of his hand and perks up, if one can perk up in his position “Sir”
Cordan walks over. "Ensign," he says joking before stopping next to the biobed, "How are you doing Jeremiah?"
Jer pulled at his robe “I am recovering nicely, thank you Sir…..Lieutenant?”
"Call me Cordan or Demetrius. When it is just us two there is no need for formalities." He says pulling up a chair.
Jeremiah looked perplexed “Sorry sir….have we met?”
Cordan paused for a second and then remembered what the nurse told him before. "Ah yes. Little bit of amnesia. Forgot about that. I am Lieutenant Demetrius Cordan, a joined trill, chief of operations and your friend. We sit next to each other on the Bridge." He stopped to try and let that sink in.
“Trill? Is that the ones with the ears?”
Jeremiah grinned at the look of confusion on Cordan´s face and then chuckled “I know who you are man, I´m messing with you…I´m all better, don´t worry”
Cordan smiles, "I hate you. You know that?" He says giving him a light punch/tap on his shoulder. "At least you didn't loose your sense of humour. When do you think that you will be up and about?"
Jer grinned as he laid back in the bed, his fingers intertwined behind his head “Still waiting on the Doc to discharge me…but I hope sometime tomorrow. How are the repairs coming along, did they fix my console yet?”
"Good. We had it fixed yeah. Bleet was driving." He smiles, "It will be amazing to have the best pilot in Starfleet back at the wheel."
Jeremiah cocked an eye “The best, huh? I can live with that”
Cordan smiled, "Of course you can. At least you haven't had to deal with the green duo"
Jeremiah merely nodded, having heard snippets of dialogue from the Nurses and medical staff regarding the contamination. “I hope I can join you guys soon enough”
Cordan smiled, "I am sure you will. It isn't the same at the front of the bridge without you. I have made sure they bolt this new console firmly into the deck so it doesn't happen again."
Jer shuddered briefly, while the memory of the incident was not clear to him, he still felt cold thinking about it. “Thank you sir, I appreciate you checking up on me”
Cordan sighs and smiles, "Well then. I guess I better get back to work. When they release you, either holodeck session or drinks in mess hall?"
“Count on it, sir”
Cordan turns around to walk out of the ICU. "Recover quickly."
"Aye Aye Sir!"
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Post by Chris H on Jan 2, 2019 17:18:30 GMT
As great as usual. If I do say so myself. Fun doing it as well.
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Post by Einar on Jan 3, 2019 15:09:04 GMT
Ensign Jeremiah Perez-Rome, Navigation Officer Stardate 11812.12 Location: Sickbay, U.S.S. Zorya, NCC-86273
"Faith"
with Aoibhe as Nurse Hadid
Jeremiah lay in the biobed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above him. He had been stuck here two days waiting for Doctor Rousseau to discharge him….that is if she ever came to see him. He understood that there was another emergency requiring her attention, though no one had bothered to inform him.
He sighed and looked to his right, seeing the familiar, and not all to unpleasing, form of Nurse Hadid leant over her desk, filling out reports. Her hair covered by a intricate scarf of some sort. “Nurse?”
Hadid looked up and over at her patient, the lights over his biobed giving her a snapshot of his condition. “Hm?” she asked softly.
“Your scarf...it´s not exactly according to Starfleet uniform code” he said, more statement than question as he sat up in the bed, pulling the robe tighter around him. “I´m curious….why someone would hide a face like yours” He said with a large grin on his face.
She twisted in her chair and reflexively tugged at the tight sleeves she wore under her loose nurse’s scrubs, pulling them down past her wrists. She stayed silent for a moment as she considered. It was an innocent question, but it was one she had gotten with varying levels of hostility ever since she’d joined Starfleet. “Starfleet’s dress code may not love variety, but maybe god does,” she offered, her voice gentle. “How boring it would be if we were all the same, sir.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his brow furrowed “God?”. He looked somewhat shocked, and curious at the same time as he examined the woman in front of him. “You are religious?”
“Does that bother you?”
“No. No - I…” He bit the inside of his mouth, considering his response. Was he bothered? Professor Mayweather at the Academy had stressed cultural relativism during Xenoanthropology 101, however he had never considered that anyone in Starfleet would believe in a deity. “I am surprised, that´s all….I meant no offense”
“You’re surprised that someone would believe in a higher power in a world where the Q exist?” she asked, rising from her chair and walking the few steps over to his biobed. “Now, that’s surprising, sir.”
“You got me there, Miss Hadid” Jeremiah said smiling. “I suppose the old worldview of a supreme being is not so different from the world we live in...the Q, the Organians…...some other races I only read up on for my final exam and then forgot all about.” he added jokingly, “But, those beings are just more evolved species that have made first contact with us and other races. Not all powerful deities that control our actions”
Remembering Professor Mayweather´s studies he quickly added “According to my culture”.
Hadid nodded once. “According to your culture.” Her dark, brown eyes examined him for a brief moment as she stood still, her hands lightly clasped in front of her. She was petite, slim and calm. “Let me ask you something. Why do you think we adhere to the Prime Directive?”
Jeremiah pondered the question. He could recite Starfleet Directive #1, however the answer was not just textbook. Many had dealt with the question over its decades of use, it´s been adhered to strictly or loosely, depending on the Captain in each scenario. But the answer came to him “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic….Arthur C. Clarke”. He looked her in the eye, smiling - happy with himself. “We cannot play God”
This seemed to satisfy her. “But… we could, if we wanted to.”
“There´s countless instances in the databanks on just that having occurred. Alien species using advanced technology to enslave or manipulate civilization, Ardra of Ventax II, Arridor and Kol on Takar...Picard on Mintaka, albeit accidentally. The point being, we don't do that. There is no higher power, but the unknown”
She bobbed her head slightly. “If everything above us is unknown, how can you be certain there is no god? How can you be certain that god isn’t using the exact same set of rules with us? To less advanced civilisations, we would appear all powerful, but despite having the power to create and destroy life, we simply observe. To look down on those below us, knowing we could destroy, change, punish,” she added, her voice quiet, “without considering the possibility that the same is being done to us from above is the height of hubris.”
“I´ve heard that word thrown my way before, mostly by women too” he joked, mostly to stall. What was to stop an all powerful being from controlling a civilization? “I prefer to base my life on the scientific method when it comes to the existence of other lifeforms. If I can prove they exist, or they show themselves, then I will accept their existence as proof….of existence”
Hadid’s laugh tinkled pleasantly as she raised a hand to tip the small, silver pin holding her scarf on at her throat. “You must feel very important,” she observed, “to think that god must prove herself, himself, themselves…”, she shrugged slightly and let her hand drop once more, “to you personally.”
“I think it´s only polite” he quipped
“Perhaps,” she conceded, though it was clear from her expression that she vehemently believed otherwise. “For me…” she continued speaking, “my faith inspires a… humility. I may be the centre of my own universe, but I’m not the centre of THE universe… and that perspective helps me look after anyone in my care better.” Her voice quivered “I tend to patients at the lowest point in their lives in here. When people are most vulnerable, scared, closest to the end,” she looked directly at Perez, her deep brown eyes shining in the dim light, “...closest to meeting their god whether they believe or not… and I hope they feel as comforted by my presence as I feel by god’s”. She blinked, a little embarrassed.
Jeremiah smiled softly “I´m feeling quite comforted if that helps”
“It does”, she admitted bashfully. Wringing her hands briefly, she once more tugged at her sleeves and took a half step back. “Turning to more, earthly concerns… I should, uh, let you sleep, sir. You’ve been through a lot.”
Jeremiah watched her retreat, all too familiar with that feeling “I have offended you”
“I’m just not used to my patients talking so much,” she told him, and it was at least partially the truth. “Usually my conversations with them are more… one sided.” She seemed to relax a little. “But, since we are talking openly… may I ask you a question, sir?”
“Anything. But first, you must stop calling me Sir. That...is an order” he smiled roguishly, hoping to steer this conversation from the metaphysical to perhaps only the physical.
“Did you see anything…?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a question she’d often wanted to ask patients who had come near, or come back from, death, but she’d never had the courage to. Now, though, seemed to be the only chance she’d ever have.
“Huh” not what I expected “To be honest, the first time I knew I died was when you told me I had…..so, I assume I saw nothing or even became aware of death or its ...reversal”
“Oh.”
She looked down at her feet, trying to make sense of his answer. It wasn’t, she had to admit, what she had been hoping for. “I’m sorry.. I really shouldn’t have-”
“I uh...did have some trippy dreams, but I suspect that was due to the drugs”
“Oh…?”
“As I remember, you were there when I woke up...I was a bit out of it myself”
“You called for your family. I had thought, perhaps…” She flustered, aware of how far from proper behaviour she had now stepped, “... I thought your heroism had earned you instant entry into heaven, that maybe your family had been waiting for you,” she admitted.
Jer chuckled, then looked up at the ceiling before looking back at his caretaker “No, I don´t think they would.”
She sensed a simple platitude wouldn't salve the hurt she recognised in his voice, so she offered none. Instead, she watched him silently, her expression curious.
“You're nothing like I expected,” she observed finally.
That took him by surprise “What did you expect?”
“Brash, arrogant…” she replied, “a typical pilot”, she added after a little consideration.
Her brow furrowed with concern.
“No regard for life or death?” he asked plainly, recalling the words of his father.
“It has always seemed curious to me that a typical Starfleet pilot...someone who quite literally is a starship's vanguard, and the only person who every single crewmember relies on for their safety,” she said, as her eyes flicked up to examine the screen atop his biobed, “should have so casual an attitude to their responsibilities.” She frowned once more, and reached over to tap the biobed’s side panel. “We hear a lot more down here than you might imagine, sir. I had expected you to be exactly as the rumours suggested.”
Jeremiah simply cleared his throat and shifted his weight, suddenly feeling naked in front of her “A pilot needs to have a certain air of confidence...whether its earned or not yet earned, it is needed to inspire confidence in others. If a Bridge has to look over a pilot´s shoulders, it cannot make other...more important decisions…..this mindset is perhaps not proper in this day and age, but it prevails…." He wrung his hands before continuing "I used to belief there was no risk to me, no chance of failure. Then I started my final year of the Academy”
She had planned to retort, to make some small jibe about juggling medical tricorders and balancing hyposprays on her nose, but she held her peace. “That's when…?”
“The luckiest man, someone who had survived more battles, fought more wars and defeated more enemies than was expected of any Captain….ran out of luck. He died” he answered, suddenly less confident.
“He touched many lives.” She had seen a transmission of the memorial service. She'd heard the grand speeches, seen the lines of officers in white standing respectfully at stiff attention. It had all been very noble and grand at the time. But it hadn't been personal, not really. This, though. This was.
“My culture doesn't really believe in luck,” she explained softly, “we believe that our fate is predetermined, and that from the moment we're born god has a plan. We also believe that a life sacrificed for the good of others is a martyr’s death. I have no doubt that Captain Rome is in heaven and at peace.”
Jeremiah chuckled slightly, drawing a look of disappointment from his caretaker “No, please don't misunderstand….I am not laughing at you, that...was very kind, thank you….I was just imagining the look on his face as you said that.”
Hadid echoed his smile, caught for a moment in the irony of a man with no faith to speak of, talking as if his dead relative were alive and conscious. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. “Then, I pray he finds me as amusing as you do.”
She reached out a hand and took a gentle hold of his left forearm, tapping the small medical device attached to his inner elbow. Adjusting his energy intake, she turned her eye to the readings overhead.
“You finally letting me out of here?” he asked, uncomfortable. He had shared more with this nurse than the Academy counselors. “Have I passed all your tests?”
She ignored his question for the time being as she leant to the side and selected a small triangular unit from a drawer. She turned back to him, and extended a hand to remove the monitor at his temple. Once she had that secured away in its compartment, she turned his head gently to the side with a finger on his jaw, “How do you feel you did? Do you think you've passed?”, she asked, her voice soft and close and kind. She fixed the new unit to the base of his skull.
Jeremiah´s breath quivered as he took in her perfume “I uh, I think I feel good”
“That’s good!” she responded, her dark eyes still fixed to his readouts. “All the positive results in the world mean little after a head injury if the patient doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel like themselves,” she observed. She turned to smile. “And your results are very good, sir.”
She noticed him looking at her and looked away. “So… I’m releasing you into Main Sickbay, but you’ll have to wait for Doctor Rousseau before you can be discharged fully. And, um...”
Jer swallowed and cleared his throat, putting on his best smile “Yes?”
Hadid clasped her hands in front of her.
“There was significant damage to your frontal lobe. We’ve repaired it, but that’s not to say that you won’t experience some behavioural changes during your recovery.” She blinked and tugged slightly on her sleeve, her attention studiously on his readouts. “I’d advise you to avoid high emotional situations for a few days at least. Your reactions to others may be a little out of character, less inhibited, more exuberant, trusting, more open than you’re used to. You might find it more difficult to hide your feelings from those around you. You might lack impulse control...” she flashed him a quick glance. “That could be a good thing, of course. Just... be aware.”
“So what you are saying is that the welcome back to duty party in my quarters is out of the question?”
Despite herself, Hadid laughed, her face lighting up. “Best give it a few days, sir, lest it turn into a bacchanalia…”
“A bacca….what…” he held up a hand “nevermind...I promise to get some rest….if you let me out of this damn robe”
“Let’s find you something more suitable to wear,” she replied, turning, not without a little relief to replicate him a uniform.
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Post by Einar on Feb 4, 2019 8:44:57 GMT
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Post by Einar on Feb 7, 2019 11:09:26 GMT
Ensign Jeremiah Perez-Rome, Shuttle Technician Stardate 11902.04 Location: U.S.S. Zorya, NCC-86273
"Dude, where's my stuff?"
with CJ as Engineer Jeannine Tocato
He had put this off long enough, and to be honest...part of it was him hiding his shame away from his friends. Jer pulled off his work gloves and raised his eye-shield. The repairs on this shuttle were complete, and Petty Officer McMannon could take over from here. He motioned for the younger man to take over before he headed over to the dressing room.
It had been almost a week since his release from Sickbay, and his voluntary transfer off the Bridge to the shuttlebay, and saying goodbye to Smiley…he sat down and pulled off his boots. In that time he had also shied away from seeing the girls.
He knew they had ransacked his quarters, as some sort of a joke, but why? He didn’t know. Perhaps it was time.
He pulled off his jumpsuit and headed into the showers, time to face it.
--
Half an hour later he found himself standing outside Jeannine’s quarters “You got this”. He pressed the chime.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat…” came a groan through the control panel.
“Open up, it’s Jer” he said, his palm on the comm unit next to the door. Was she sleeping? Drunk? Most probably the latter.
“Oh,” she said, followed by a brief pause. “Gimme a sec.”
Jeannine quickly picked through the living room of her shared quarters, tossing dishes into the replicator and rapidly disassembling the small blanket fort she’d made on the sofa, tossing it all behind said sofa. A glance in a panel to see her hair was beyond saving, and she made her way to the door.
“Hey, I thought you were dead or something,” she greeted. She was dressed in her flannel PJs, leaning cooly on the door frame as she played with a strand of tangled curls.
“Or something” he responded calmly, pushing past her into her quarters, his eyes scanning the mess for his gear and belongings “Where is it?”
“Okay, we’re doing the rude thing,” she observed. “Which, uh, which thing are you looking for?”
Jer stopped in his tracks, turning around to face her and put his hands to his face and grunting silently “I’m sorry, Jean….it’s been ah….a long day”. He put his hands down and took in her Pajamas, smiling softly at the view, taking in the curve of her hips before looking back up “I see you’re ready for bed….I’ll….I’ll come back later”
“Wha?” Jeannine looked down at herself. “Oh! No, this is just the first thing I do when I get off shift. I love these things, they’re so soft and fuzzy.”
She made a show of twirling, wobbling dangerously for a moment before steadying and facing him once more.
“Uh, I know the thing you’re looking for. I’ll go grab it.”
She disappeared into her room, turning on the light and climbing over her bed to get to her nightstand. Once the drawer popped open, she plucked out a small, transparent box-looking thing. She held it almost reverently as she brought it out to him.
Jer averted his eyes as she turned back around, pretending that he wasn’t watching her.
“Sorry about that, um… Well, it’s kind of a superstition thing.”
He accepted the unit and stuck it in his jacket pocket “Thanks,I guess…...what superstition thing?”
Jeannine made several attempts to start her story, her face contorting a number of different ways before she finally just sighed and folded her arms.
“When I was a kid, I had a Bolian friend who got really sick,” she began. “Like, really sick. They didn’t know what was wrong with her, and she was in the hospital for months, and I was really scared. My dad told me about how his parents taught him to take and keep something that belongs to someone you’re worried about because it gives them a reason to come back.”
She rubbed the back of her neck and shrugged.
“Dumb, but, like, here you are are.”
Jer stood awkwardly before her as she finished her story, absentmindedly scratching his chin “So that’s why you took this? And my Parrises squares gear? And my one bottle of real vodka?”
Jeannine stared at him a bit wide-eyed, having apparently forgotten how much stuff she’d actually taken.
“I, uh, was really worried about you?” she offered dubiously. “In my defense, ‘Nala helped me drink the vodka.”
“I’m not surprised” he said as he stepped to his right and leant against the edge of the sofa, his hand in his pocket. “Your Bolian friend...she recover?”
“She did,” answered Jeannine, though her tone was somber. “Died on the Delano last March.”
“Jean….I’m sorry” he offered, his fingers still examining the device in his pocket.
She gave him a brief smile.
“It’s… shitty, but it’s not an uncommon story these days,” she said. “Everyone’s either lost someone, or knows someone who lost someone. I just try to keep livin’, like everyone else, so I keep trying to make friends, and sometimes that means taking their stuff so they won’t leave you.”
Jer smiled at that, looking up at his friend “I’m not going anywhere” he pulled out the device once more, holding onto it for dear life “I take it you played this”
“Only like a second of it,” she admitted. “Just to see what it was. Realized it was important enough for my purposes. I got the sense that you’re a bit wary of that particular connection. Must be tough serving with this particular crew.”
Jer pocketed the device almost instantly “Starfleet thought I would fit right in….the only ship that still believes he was some sort of a hero”
“I mean, he kinda was,” she offered, even though she knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “I mean, I didn’t ever serve under him, but we all know his accomplishments. We’ve all learned about his battles with Section 31 back when they were secret. It’s just that people don’t want to think that heroes are complicated. That they have a dark side.”
Jer locked eyes with his friend, someone he had not even considered getting to know past their nights drinking “I guess...when did you get all insightful and stuff?”
“My dad always seemed to know things, and I guess he taught me pretty well,” she offered with a shrug. “Don’t tell anyone, but the funny stuff’s kind of an act. It’s how I deal with shit. Make my friends laugh, keep everyone relaxed.”
“If it helps, you do a great job of it”
“Well yeah, I’m hilarious,” she declared. “Also adorable. Just the total precocious scamp package.”
“Also that, yeah” he admitted, taking in the state of her dress again. So tell me Jean, am I allowed the rest of the stuff too? Or did you already lose that in this trash heap?”
She thought for a moment, trying to remember what all happened to his stuff.
“I think your gear is in Inala’s quarters ‘cuz we were wearing it and pretending to be huge nerds,” she recalled. “And I don’t think you’re getting the vodka back.”
He stood back up to his full height, a smirk painted on his face “Then what are you good for?”
“Is this a challenge? Are you challenging me in my own abode, sir? I put away my blanket fort to entertain your visit, and this is how you repay me? Outrageous.”
“Blanket...fort?” he chuckle, looking around the place “Yes this place is a real palace now, thanks”
“It’s a fort. Made out of blankets. I use it to hide from my troubles.”
She planted her hands on her hips and smirked victoriously.
“So...what were you hiding from?”
“Depression? Alcoholism? The creeping concern that I’m eating way too much ice cream? Lots of things, really,” she mused.
He stepped in her direction, in an attempt to be comforting “I’m always here if you need to talk...a shoulder to cry on, that sort of thing”
“I mean, I’ve got plenty of shoulders to cry on,” she claimed. “I’m very popular, you understand.”
“I know you are” he stated “Despite your choice in dress”
“A perfect setup for innuendo that I'm going to waste because of principle,” she lamented, before tentatively leaning on a chair, hip cocked out all tastefully. “I… think you're quite attractive, and I wish to inform you of said attraction, but I've a concern.”
Jer put his hands in his jacket pockets and drew his lower lip between his teeth, not overly surprised but stunned nonetheless by her directness. “Huh. You too. I mean, you’re very attractive...so what’s this concern?”
Jeannine narrowed her eyes appraisingly for a moment.
“You’re too nice,” she declared.
Jer shrugged and pursed his lips “If you need someone to mistreat you, I’m not your guy. And I’m not looking for a girlfriend here, Jean - so you can relax.”
“I mean, like, performatively nice,” she clarified. “You're charming, but it seems like you try really hard to be charming. You got a lot of bravado about you.”
Jer shrugged “You start by negging me, and then psychoanalyze me?” he played with the device between his fingers as he moved past her towards the door, but stopped halfway “You don’t know me, Jean. Not really” he said non-confrontingly.
Jeannine nodded gently.
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “That’d be the concern. I wanna know who you are before we do anything like that, I guess. I’m not looking for a partner or anything, but I’m not looking for a one-night-stand with someone I don’t know, either. I’m a friends-with-benefits person.”
“Well” he said simply, followed by a silence as he considered his next words carefully. “It’s getting late. And I still have parisses training tomorrow morning”
Jeannine nodded, chewing her lip as she folded her arms.
“I’m trying really hard not to say ‘break a leg,’” she muttered.
Jer laughed, surprising himself more than anything “Wouldn’t be the first time….I’ll take you one day….to a match, I mean”
Jeannine put on a knowing smirk, shaking her head lightly in amusement.
“If you ever decide to let me in, we’re gonna have a lot of fun,” she promised.
Jeremiah smiled before thumbing the door, revealing the corridor outside. “Drinks soon?” he asked, leaning against the frame.
“Why not?” she asked, giving him a wink.
“Why not” he answered back, before stepping into the hallway and heading left, in search of 'Nala’s quarters.
He needed his gear for tomorrow's training, and the awkwardness between them would have to wait...Jer raised an eyebrow as he spotted a familiar blonde cross the section before him, disappearing into a Turbolift before he could speak up.
"Elena?"
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Post by Einar on Mar 3, 2019 15:20:56 GMT
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Post by Einar on Mar 23, 2019 9:31:42 GMT
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Post by Einar on Mar 23, 2019 9:42:00 GMT
Ensign Jeremiah Perez-Rome, Navigation Officer Stardate 11903.10 Location: Personal Quarters, U.S.S. Zorya
"Greetings and salutations"
Jeremiah.
It is my wish that this short missive finds you well healed after your most recent injuries. I am in no doubt that the medical staff on the Zorya are doing everything possible to aid your swift recovery. If this is not so, I am confident you will voice your concerns and receive adequate treatment elsewhere.
It is logical to do so, and I urge you not to let your natural, human squeamishness against offering criticism deter you from your best chance at a full recovery.
Life here on the Chiron is continuing apace.
The crew have been challenging, and I do find them less receptive to my advice and my observations than you were. I often wonder if you are atypical among your race, or if, indeed, the crew of my current ship are the outliers.
Humanity is a puzzle I have yet to solve. I have been advised by several of the Chiron crew to relax, but I do not see how that is possible, or indeed, how it is prudent. Perhaps I simply require more meditation and solitude, though, on a ship this size that is unlikely.
Peace and Long Life, friend of mine,
T'ali.
Jer leaned back in the seat by his personal terminal as he stared at the small holographic representation of Smiley. That nerd even signed off the message with her name, as it would be unclear who was speaking. He chuckled to himself as he sipped his morning coffee and pulled his robe closer, still revealing his chest. She would probably not mind much and if she did, it would just be funny.
He hit record.
"Smiley! I've missed you around here, everyone is so lose and wild I can barely stand it. Last week Crewman Salasar ate a bacon sandwich using his hands, and from what I heard Commander Bixby....kissed his husband in the hallways!
He sighed dramatically. "It's a madhouse....listen to this...
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Post by aoibheni on Mar 23, 2019 17:27:45 GMT
This is so adorable.
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Post by Einar on Oct 11, 2023 18:29:56 GMT
Ensign Jeremiah Perez-Rome, Navigation Officer Stardate 12311.10 Location: Personal Quarters, U.S.S. Zorya
"Dear Smiley. It has been ages since I last wrote to you. Knowing you, you are probably lamenting my use of the word ages so I will clarify. It has been 7 weeks and 3 days exact. Now you are furrowing your brow. So let me clarify further so as not to annoy you. It has been 7 weeks, 3 days, four hours and forty-two minutes exact as I type these words. Naturally when this correspondence reaches you, this statement will be wildly incorrect and I can only apologize but the delays due to subspace traffic and relay stations really cannot and should not ruin a day such as this. I assume it IS a day when this reaches you, if not please direct your complaint to the Starfleet communications headquarters as subspace mechanics are far too complex for mere pilots such as myself to grasp as you would surely agree, and point out.
So, with the pleasantries out of the way, you will be happy to hear. Apologies, perhaps that was a bit too presumptuous of me. You will be content to know that I have regained my wings. Now, before you scoff and correct my anatomy, of which I am well versed in, I mean that in the sense that I have been recertified to pilot a starship. Goodbye shuttles.
As such, I have been offered my old posting on the Zorya back, which I accepted….I… I hope that you are proud of me and know that the ship will seem empty without you.
Your friend, Jeremiah’
Computer, save and transmit to Ensign T´ali.
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