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Post by Nola on Mar 20, 2017 19:00:11 GMT
Personnel File: Sumner, Sara N.Most Recent ImageVital StatisticsName: Sara Natalie Sumner Species: Human Age: 33 years Place of Birth: Seattle, North America, Earth, Sol Height: 1.78 m Weight: 65.8 kg Eye Color: Hazel-Green Hair Color: Black (often dyed) Starfleet Commissioned OfficerRank: Captain Posting: Commanding Officer, USS Chiron NCC-77303 Previous Postings: USS Scimitar (Wing Commander, Helm, Counselor, Executive Officer), Starbase Sigma Rho (Executive Officer, Commanding Officer), USS Bremen (Commanding Officer) Decorations: Tzenkethi War Campaign Ribbon, Admiral's Letter of Commendation, Federation Peace Medal, Medal of Commendation Service Record: 10706.30 - Promoted to Ensign for good service to the United Federation of Planets 11009.03 - Promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade for continued good service to the United Federation of Planets 11303.18 - Promoted to Lieutenant for unwavering dedication to duty and performing above and beyond expectations 11401.06 - Promoted to Lieutenant Commander for successful completion of the Starfleet Command Readiness Examination 11401.22 - Assigned to the U.S.S. Hyperion as XO 11402.03 - Assigned to the Station Sigma Rho as XO 11403.21 - Assigned to the Station Sigma Rho as CO 11404.26 - Promoted to Commander for upholding the highest standards of Starfleet Command, and leading her crew in the finest traditions of the Federation 11502.19 - Assigned to the U.S.S. Bremen as CO 11508.23 - Awarded the Tzenkethi War Campaign Ribbon for for dedication to duty during the Tzenkethi War 11508.23 - Awarded the Admirals Letter of Commendation for excellent service in defence of the Federation 11508.23 - Promoted to Captain for dedication and bravery in the face of desperate odds 11604.14 - Awarded the Federation Peace Medal for your outstanding decision-making and for orchestrating the recovery of an entire, non-Federation planet and population 11604.14 - Awarded the Medal of Commendation for for exceptional crew conduct in relation to the safe recovery of Twissel to our dimension 11901.03 - Received official Reprimand for conspiracy to leak classified information 12104.01 - Received Axanar Humanitarian Award for aiding the recovery of the planet Valt
Educational HistoryJonathan Archer Secondary School (Seattle), Graduated June 2382 Starfleet Academy (San Francisco), Graduated June 2386 Sumner rated as Average-to-Above-Average in most departments. Her poorest score was biological science. She rated Outstanding in Navigation and Flight Control. She rated as Excellent in the voluntary Behavioral Psychology program. Instructors noted Sumner as being outgoing and friendly, but not very diligent. Professor Cavanaugh (Bio Science) noted a distinct lack of interest, and describes Sumner as having 'coasted' through the course. Professor Narbanor (Electro-Plasma Systems) noted that Sumner often seemed to daydream during lectures. Professors Barnes, Goro, and Den (Warp-Core Theory, Tactical, and Sensor Systems respectively) repeatedly noted anecdotes regarding Sumner's nightlife. Barnes suggested she was more interested in being a musician than a Starfleet Officer. Goro raised concerns about alcohol consumption. Den questioned her motivation to attend the Academy. Professor Neben (Flight Control) reported a noticeable change in demeanor upon her first flight simulation, describing Sumner as having 'found her calling.' Sumner's performance improved significantly 'across the board' upon beginning Flight Control in 2384-2385. Neben suggests a string of competitive rivalries with other students improved her focus. Professor Chambliss (Psychology) noted a natural affinity for behavioral therapy, citing Sumner's advanced intuitive understanding of human psychology, especially concerning relationship dynamics. Sumner graduated in the 98th percentile for Navigation, and 87th percentile for Behavioral Psychology. Career SummarySumner began her career aboard the USS Triton as Navigational Officer, but was soon transferred to a string of ships as Counselor due to a shortage of personnel at the position. Records show repeated requests for a Navigation position, however Sumner continued as Counselor for the next two years. Sumner was assigned to the USS Scimitar in 2388 where she spent the bulk of her career. She began as Counselor, but was eventually given a Navigation position by Captain Jonathan Rome. Family affairs prompted Sumner to take an extended leave of absence late in 2391. Upon return to the Scimitar, she was assigned as Wing Commander for the Scimitar's fighter compliment. As WC, Sumner led numerous sorties and proved an exceptional combat pilot. Of particular note is a point-blank engagement with a D'Deridex-class Warbird during a covert assignment shortly after the destruction of Romulus. It was during that assignment that Sumner assumed the role of Acting Executive Officer(aXO) [REDACTED] Sumner showed an aptitude for Command, and, following the retirement of the Scimitar, Sumner was appointed as Executive Officer of Starbase Sigma Rho in 2394. Following the disappearance of then-Commanding Officer Thalev Idrani (her XO aboard the Scimitar and, notably, her romantic partner), Sumner assumed command of the starbase. Responding to a distress call from a colony of Romulan refugees, Sumner commanded the USS Xiphos (attached to Sigma Rho) and engaged in a skirmish with a number of Tzenkethi ships. Defense of the colony was successful due to the arrival a four D'Deridex warbirds. As relationships with the Tzenkethi deteriorated, Starfleet Command recalled Sumner from Sigma Rho, citing a need for a more experienced commander for what would eventually become the Second Tzenkethi War. Following a brief reunion with Captain Rome aboard the USS Hyperion, Sumner was given command of the USS Bremen in 2395. Sumner commanded the Bremen through the Second Tzenkethi War with distinction. Sumner and the Bremen would play a significant role in exposing the organization known as Section 31 following the rescue of Twissel. [REDACTED] The Bremen was destroyed in a True Federation ambush in June of 2397. Sumner has been on mandatory leave following the incident, and currently awaits assignment to a new ship. Personal InformationSumner, along with her brother, grew up in Renton, a suburb of Seattle. Both Henry and Sara describe their childhoods as difficult due to their father, Charles Sumner. Sumner described her father as 'a control freak,' and that 'nothing was ever good enough for him.' She has stated that her brother 'had it worse,' but describes having had difficulty coping with frequent conflicts. Professor Chambliss suggested that this difficult childhood was responsible for Sumner's affinity for behavioral therapy, saying she 'had to play peacemaker.' Chambliss also suggests that these events influenced Sumner's social proclivities, and that 'drinking and sex were ways to cope with her experiences, and to feel a sense of independence.' While Sumner's self-discipline improved following graduation, numerous reports indicated continued fraternization and alcohol consumption. During her assignment to the Scimitar, Sumner pursued a romantic relationship with her XO, Thalev Idrani. Logs and reports indicate the relationship was initially intermittent due to external events, including [REDACTED]. Their relationship was renewed in late 2393, and the two have been romantically involved since. Records show that these reports dissuaded Starfleet Command from considering Sumner for advancement. Her performance as aXO during [REDACTED] changed SFC's perception. Sumner has a personal interest in music, and has an extensive collection of electric bass guitars. She played heavily at the Academy, touring with a group (Warp 69) in various establishments in San Francisco and Oakland. Prior to the Bremen's destruction, logs indicate Sumner had plans to once more play in a group. Sumner's command style can best be described as 'informal.' While this has raised concerns with Starfleet Command, it is generally believed that Sumner has the temperament to 'make it work,' as stated by Admiral Walker. This view is largely based on observations from Captain Rome and the logs of Sumner's subordinates, as well as blind analyses by behavioral psychologists at Starfleet Medical. Starfleet Medical ProfileSumner's medical file lists no major injuries. Records show she keeps herself in excellent physical shape. Her preferred training method is 'free running.' Sumner's psychological profile indicates a well-balanced psyche as a result of processing significant harmful experiences early in life. Sumner is described as 'free-spirited, but well-adjusted' in her most recent psychoanalysis. In addition, despite some earlier concerns about potential alcoholism, reports indicate that Sumner has significantly moderated her consumption following her assignment as Commanding Officer.
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Post by Nola on Mar 22, 2017 23:56:57 GMT
SD 11703.22
Sara wasn't really paying attention, which wasn't a good thing. These briefings were important, even if they were monotonous - fleet movements in preparation for a push into Separatist space. To her credit, she had paid close attention for the first few weeks, though that was largely because she had little else to do outside of family things.
Everyone needed a break from family on occasion.
Life without the Bremen had proven exceptionally difficult. She had taken for grantedthe xcitement and sense of purpose the ship had given her, along with her beloved crew. The death of Jonathan Rome had compounded the sense of loss.
With no ship of her own, and with no friend and mentor out fighting, going to the breifings had begun to seem pointless. It was just pieces shuffling around on a board, and none of them were hers.
"Captain Sumner?" called a voice, and Sara snapped out of her reverie, glancing about for the speaker. The room was empty save for her and a young-looking yeoman.
"Sorry," said Sara, giving a chuckle of mild embarassment.
"Admiral Walker would like to see you," said the business-like yeoman before darting off. Sara was up and moving in an instant, abandoning her PADD and beelining to the nearest turbolift.
"Central offices," she instructed, a slight tremor in her voice. She tried to settle her sudden anxiety; this could be about a number of things, after all, but she was unable to curb her anticipation. She knew in her bones what this was about.
She spared a small wave to Kelley, Walker's adjutant, before almost walking face-first into the Admiral's locked door.
"He'll be just a few more minutes," announced the amuse Lieutenant.
"He summons me and then makes me wait," sighed Sara, who did her best to make it sound at least someone jocular.
"I don't think he planned on you getting here so quickly," offered Kelley.
"I almost ordered a direct transport; he's met me, he knows I'm fast!" complained Sara. Kelley snorted and gave Sara a knowing smirk.
"Shut up," Sara laughed, appreciating the lowered tension. She flopped into one of the chairs to wait, reminding her self to breathe.
Over the past month, she had taken to elaborate fantasies of what she might do once she had a new ship. Sometimes she thought about revenge against Section 31 for destroying the Bremen. Sometimes she thought about vengeance against the Breen for Jonathan. Sometimes she simply took her ship and crew as far away from all this bullshit as she could.
Most likely she and her ship would just become another piece on the board, shuffling about and waiting for the apocalypse. It occurred to her this was a very Rome-like thought. It also occurred to her how disappointed he would be that she had it.
Sara was the Idealist. She always had been, almost defiantly so. Then Starfleet had publicized her final Bremen log. Now she had become something of a mascot, with the log reinforcing her earlier public image as being somewhat responsible for the civil war. Neither image was particularly fair.
Admittedly, she had consented to Starfleet using her log. She was still mourning her ship, and part of her liked the idea of her words strengthening the resolve of her fellow officers as a way for the Bremen to keep fighting back even after it was lost. It didn't take long for her to regret it, however, after she had been flooded by appearance and interview requests. They had thankfully slowed to a trickle once it was apparent the conflict wouldn't be over quickly, another Rome thought.
She found herself having to stifle the memory of her wedding, then, and the words she'd shared with her dear friend after he had entwined her forever with Thalev. It wouldn't do to meet the Admiral with tears in her eyes.
The door Walker's officer and a pair of brass walked out, nodding to Kelley as they went. The adjutant motioned for Sara to enter, and she took a deep breath and stood, steping carefully inside and feeling the wave of anticipation once more.
"You wanted to see me, Admiral?" she asked, standing at ease. Martin was skimming a PADD, one out of a small mountain, and it took him a moment to respond.
"Yes, Sara, have a seat," he said, wearing a bright smile that felt like confirmation of what she already knew. The smile has spread to her own expression as she sat, counting the breaths until he said the words. Martin put on a pair of half-moon glasses and pulled up another PADD.
"Captain Sara Sumner, you are hereby assigned to the USS Chiron as Commanding Officer, effective immediately," the Admiral summarized before handing the PADD over. Sara's grin was wide and deep and she eagerly pressed her thumb to the order.
"Finally," she whispered, staring reverently at the orders. She had the distinct sensation of shackles being removed from her ankles.
"You're to report to your ship on point three zero at 0800 hours," said Walker, grinning at the young Captain's enthusiasm.
"Thank you, Martin - sir," she stammered, filled with the competing urges of dancing and crying. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, fighting to regain her composure.
"I'm sorry it took so long," offered Martin. "I wanted to get you the right ship, not the first ship."
Sara nodded and gave the Admiral a pleased smile.
"I'm sure she'll be perfect," said Sara, glancing back to the orders. Another Intrepid - the crew would at least be familiar. "Do you know where you'll be sending us?"
"Not yet," said Martin. "But you'll know day-of. For now, go get packed and ready. We'll be making use of all that pent-up energy."
Sara grinned and nodded once more before standing, stopping herself before she sprinted out of the room.
"Will that be all, Admiral?" she asked.
"Dismissed," Martin barked after a chuckle. Sara whooped as she ran out, arms raised victoriously, her childlike exuberance restored - if only for a moment.
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Post by Nola on Apr 7, 2017 7:49:44 GMT
SD 11703.30
Sara had never been excited about paperwork before. She was reading boilerplate itinerary documents and signing off on crew tansfers (most of which could have been handed off to Raq) like there was no tomorrow. It made sense, of course; Sara had never been grounded as long as she'd been after the Bremen was lost.
She'd relished the simple shakedown run from Earth to Starbase 331. She'd gone out of her way to make conversation with every crewman she interacted with. She'd even managed to forget there was a civil war for a few minutes after leaving Spacedock.
Sara Sumner loved being a Captain. She loved her ship. She loved her crew. She loved her husband, and... well, people who were far away. And she especially loved-
"Mama?" called a small voice from the doorway. Sara looked out from behind her terminal and beamed at Ulani, her adoptive daughter. It had been nearly a year since she and Thalev had added the young Cardassian girl to their family, and her love for the child seemed to grow by the day, which she took as a good sign.
"Hey, sweetie," she called, setting aside a PADD. "That time?"
Ulani nodded, and Sara hopped from her chair and rounded her desk with outstretched arms. Ulani grinned and rushed forward, and Sara caught her under the arms, briefly tossed her in the air, and caught her in a sidelong embrace in one fluid motion.
"What'll it be tonight?" asked Sara, carrying Ulani through the quarters to the girl's room. "A story, or a song?"
"A song," said Ulani, hugging Sara's neck.
"A song it is," said Sara, before giving the girl a kiss on the cheek.
It had take a while for things to get to the 'mama' stage. Ulani had been just five when they'd met, and even though she and Thalev had read as much material on adoption as they could, there was simply no way to be sure they would connect. The chaos aboard the Bremen and amidst the Federation hadn't helped, but, in at least this one aspect, the Bremen's destruction had proved beneficial. For all her professional frustration at being grounded, the time on Earth had allowed the three of them to truly become a family.
"Any requests?" she asked, once she'd laid Ulani in bed.
"Ummm, Poprocks!" said Ulani. Sara grinned and plucked a small ukulele from atop a nearby dresser. She checked the tuning briefly, mostly out of habit, and laid down beside her daughter.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Ready!" Ulani confirmed, and Sara began to play.
"Where'er you go, you know I'll be there If you go far you know I'll be there," the pair sang. The song had become one of Ulani's favorites, to Sara's delight.
"I'll go anywhere, so I'll see you there You place the name, you know I'll be there You name the time, you know I'll be there I'll go anywhere, so I'll see you there
I don't care if you don't mind I'll be there, not far behind I will dare keep in mind I'll be there for you
If you should fall, you know I'll be there To catch the call, you know I'll be there I'll go anywhere, so I'll see you there
Well I don't care if you don't mind I'll be there, not far behind I will dare keep in mind I'll be there for you I'll be there for you I'll be there for you..."
Ulani clapped and gave a yawn, and Sara moved to give her a goodnight forehead kiss before she called out "One more!"
Sara gave her a playful frown before laying back once again.
"Alright, which one?" she asked.
"You pick," said Ulani. Sara gazed over at the girl, her eyes traveling over her burgeoning Cardassian ridges for the umpteenth time. She wanted to be sure she never forgot what her daughter's face looked like at this age, though she couldn't quite imagine why she'd forget. After a few more moments' thought, she snuggled closer and began to play.
"When the night has come And the land is dark And the moon is the only Light we'll see
"No, I won't be afraid Oh, I won't be afraid Just as long as you stand Stand by me..."
Sara kissed Ulani's forehead after she'd finished, and crawled out of the bed.
"Daddy will tuck you in in a minute, ok?" she said, brushing a hand over Ulani's hair. The little girl nodded and yawned, and Sara made her way to the door, turning back and gazing adoringly at the child.
"Sweet dreams, hun," she said.
"Night mama."
Sara lingered a moment longer before stepping out of the room. Thalev was making his way in, a customary glass of water in hand. He made to say something, but Sara simply pulled him in for a deep, powerful kiss. He nearly dropped the glass, but he managed to keep his grip and simply melted into the embrace, feeling the warmth radiate between them. They kept it going for several seconds before finally parting, Sara's hands lovingly framing her husband's face.
They didn't need to say anything the embrace hadn't already said, and Sara let Thalev continue on to his fatherly duties. She watched the doorway to Ulani's room, almost feeling overwhelmed by the sense of contentment she was feeling in that moment. If someone had asked her 16-year-old self what she'd be doing at 32, she never in a thousand years would have guessed she'd be a Captain, wife, and mother.
The domestic bliss lasted just until she sat back in her chair and saw an alert on her screen.
"Mission orders?" she muttered. The Chiron was still undergoing maintenance; they weren't due to ship out for another week. She input her access code and read, and the glowing warmth that had been filling her stomach was gone in an instant.
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Post by Nola on Apr 11, 2017 17:59:34 GMT
Previously...
It was a short shuttle hop from San Francisco to Seattle, which Sara shared with an older gentleman who'd been visiting his grandson at the Academy; an Engineering student, he'd gushed. She hadn't been in uniform, so he'd asked if she'd been visiting someone at the Academy as well. The look on his face when Sara told him she was a Captain was priceless.
"But you're so young!" he'd said. Sara had come dangerously close to saying something like 'only on the outside.' When he asked for her name, she just said 'Sara.' She hadn't been in the mood to find out if he knew the 'Sumner' name.
He introduced himself as Walter, and Sara passed the shuttle ride with questions about his grandson. Apparently the young man was quite brilliant, and Sara believed this assertion due to the slight tremble in Walter's voice, like some part of him was just a little afraid of the fact. Sara had grown up with a truly brilliant sibling; she knew that fear well.
Walter finally managed to get in a question about Sara, but thankfully only asked about her ship.
"The Chiron," she'd said, unable to keep a wistful smile from her face. "We're going on a shakedown run tomorrow, so it's my last night ashore, so to speak.
"Ah," said Walter, a knowing grin taking up his features. "Off to drink to the foam before setting sail, then?"
"Something like that," she confirmed.
"Are you from Seattle?" he asked.
"Yeah," she answered.
"You seem like it," he nodded, eliciting another smile from her. "A certainly indomitability." She chuckled and gave a nod.
"I am inexorable," she agreed.
They exchanged some more small talk for the rest of the ride, then parted ways.
"Anchors aweigh, Captain!" Walter well-wished, heading south. She simply waved and turned north.
Sara had been going to Damage, Ink since she'd turned 16 and gotten her first tattoo: a wand-holding, punk rock pixie leaving a trail of sparkles on her shoulder. It had been done by a guy named Schraeder, who had been responsible for every ounce of ink she'd gotten since. The tattoo weaving along the left half of her body had grown from the original, a mess of vines, lillies, violets, and lotus flowers with a small squad of pixies flitting throughout.
Most recently, Schraeder had tattooed a woven band of metallic ink around her left ring finger after her and Thalev's wedding. In time, she planned for the design to extend out to cover the rest of her finger and hand, something special for the important moments in her life with him.
That had ended a lengthy drought. The sad fact was that the left side was simply out of room for anything ambitious; she was unwilling to tattoo her face, and her feet were too sensitive, moreso even than her inner thigh had been.
The right half of her body had always been meant to stay blank. It was a personal symbol of balance, of the duality of human nature. It was a statement that Sara would always walk the middle path between vice and virtue; logic and emotion; patience and abandon.
A balance of extremes, she reasoned, was more achievable than a balance of moderation. One didn't balance their passions by suppressing them, but by adding wisdom and insight to the other side of the scale. More than anything else, that was supposed to be the message of the artwork that adorned her body.
But tradition is tradition, and in truth, Sara had begun to only see a work half-finished. A story half-told. A captain half-qualified.
And so she found herself walking into Damage, Ink, late at night for a special appointment.
"There she is," greeted Schraeder, as he finished preparing a needle.
"Hey Schrae," greeted Sara, smiling at her old friend.
With her frequent visits, the pair had naturally become friends. The sessions she'd spent laying on the gruff, older man's table had at various times been both philosophical forum and counseling appointment. It had been her discussions with him that had formed her 'balance of extremes' point of view. It had been his advice and insight that had helped prevent her from spiraling out of control at the Academy.
She would say that she owed a great deal to him, but he always insisted he got as good as he gave. Sara was a natural listener, after all, and after some cajoling he'd finally started to talk about himself. He'd told her about his time working on a freighter, and the various adventures that had come with it. He'd apparently learned to tattoo from a former Orion Syndicate tough, and after having enough fun out among the stars, he decided to come home and open a parlor.
He'd been there a decade when Sara first stepped in.
"Finally crossin' the line, huh?" he remarked.
"Yeah," she sighed, shrugging out of her jacket. "Guess I didn't pace myself very well."
"Psh," scoffed the burly artist. "You were never gonna limit yourself."
"Oh really," she smirked.
"Had you pegged as full-body the moment you took that first one so well," he elaborated. "A natural masterpiece."
Schraeder set about closing the blinds on the windows as Sara continued to undress. The first time she'd decided get a tattoo that required disrobing was after she'd finished her sleeve, just after her 19th birthday. She wanted to continue onto her chest.
She'd felt practically sick with nervousness the day of, but Schraeder had been patient and accommodating until she'd gotten the nerve. It wouldn't be the last time she'd be bare in the parlor, nor would it be the most intimate bit he'd seen, but he never failed to be professional.
'Trust,' he'd said, was 'vital to the process.'
"So, is the garden spreading?" he asked.
"Nah, I've got a different theme in mind," she said.
"Oh? What's that?"
"Revolution."
---
"Gotta say, you're probably one of my most considerate clients," Schraeder said.
"How's that?" asked Sara, a little drowsy. The buzzing of the needle and dull fire in her flesh tended to put her in a bit of a trance.
"Usually, when people come in for butt work, I gotta, like, vice-grip their ass to make it firm enough to work on," he explained. She snorted and grinned to herself.
"Runner's legs," she bragged.
"I've seen runner butts," he went on. "This is like some cross between runner butt and gymnast butt, or something like that."
"Parkour," she offered as explanation.
"Ah, yeah, that'll do it," he said.
"I'll add you to the mailing list for my butt's fan club," she said, drawing a laugh.
"Just sayin' it's an accommodating medium," he clarified. "Besides, someone's clearly a bigger fan than I'm comfortable with being."
"Maybe," she sighed. Schraeder quirked a brow at that.
"There a story there?" he inquired after a pause.
"Kinda long one," she mumbled.
"I can work slow."
---
Sara lowered herself carefully into a chair and brought up her apartment terminal for likely the last time. The Chiron would be departing in a matter of hours, and the place would be cleaned out for another earthbound Starfleet family.
This was where she and Thalev had started their family in earnest, adopting a child and easing into the realities of marriage. This would always be a place where life irreversibly changed for her.
That made it all the more significant that here, in the final hours in her family's first home, her heart ached for someone far away.
She took a deep breath and began to write a message destined for the freighter 'Granuaile.'
---
Nia,
Long time, huh? Well, not that long, I suppose. Just feels like it.
They finally gave me a new ship: the Chiron, another Intrepid. We're shipping out later today.
I should be busy going over crew evals, and ship history, and getting caught up on the latest fleet movements, but since it was my last night at home, tradition dictated a new tattoo.
That's my excuse, anyway. Try as I might, I couldn't get my mind on paperwork.
I think about you a lot. Not all the time, but enough to let me know it's not just a fond memory, you know? I think about that night, and how perfect it was. I know that the original idea was to show you a good time, and to remind you that you were desirable. Looking back, though, I see how much I needed that night, too.
I love Thalev. I married him, and I will spend the rest of my life with him, but nobody really gets you on every level, you know? There are levels that he can't reach for me, and there are levels that I can't reach for him.
You reached those levels. We connected, and the connection remains, at least on this end. Maybe that's not the case on yours, and that would be ok. Still, I needed to tell you how I feel.
Thalev knows. Believe it or not, he doesn't mind too much. He explained about Andorian bonding groups, and the implication was that he would be ok if you and I happened to have mutual feelings.
Again, it's ok if they're not mutual, and there's no commitment needed if they are. I know you've moved on from Starfleet, and I don't blame you. Still, if we happen to be in the same area sometime, maybe you can look me up.
Regardless, I will continue to care for you. Deeply. Very deeply. You will always have an important place in my heart.
And now, you'll have an important place elsewhere, too.
I hope you're doing ok. Do you still have the bass? I would love to hear back from you if you feel up to it. I'll understand if not, though.
Either way, part of me will always be yours.
Take care of yourself, Nia.
- Sara
FILE ATTACHED
<A well-framed image of Sara's tattoo is attached to the letter. A bite mark has been permanently inscribed in ink. Above it, in rough, scratchy graffiti, is the message 'NIA WAS HERE'>
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Post by Einar on Apr 12, 2017 8:08:32 GMT
hahahahah, brilliant
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Post by Nola on May 4, 2017 6:35:58 GMT
SD 11704.20
Choosing to be a Captain with a family on board was always going to be difficult. Sara had known that, and had done her best to accept it. When she and Thalev had first met Ulani, every fiber of her being had told her it was not only the right thing to do, but also what she wanted to do. Until today, Sara had been good with that.
It was when the sensors had dropped, and news came in that other ships were being affected, that she had her first doubt. For an instant, she had believed a full-scale invasion was imminent, and she thought about Ulani and Thalev as the ship went to red alert. There was no warning, no information; the red lights simply started to flash, and the klaxon rang out. In that moment, she wondered what she had done, what had possessed her to bring Ulani and Thalev on board in a time of war.
It had been fleeting, fortunately. The urgency of the situation had forced her to set it aside so she could direct her crew. They had managed to work around the apparent sabotage and continued to Cestus III, and Sara had slowly managed to will the knot in her stomach away.
The justification for having a family aboard the ship was the same as it had always been: Starfleet was not an orgnaization of war, even if they looked like they were. The Chiron was not meant to be a ship of war, but of exploration and peace. Carrying families aboard was meant to be a reminder of why they were out here to begin with - to further the understanding of the universe for the benefit of their people.
To put it another way, Starfleet had families aboard their ships because they were not Section 31. Besides, Thalev knew what red alert meant. He would be able to protect Ulani and keep her safe, and he would know that Sara would tell him whatever needed to be said. Sara reminded herself of that over and over, managing to untangle the knot by the time they'd reached the system.
Now she faced three Gorn attack ships and a pair of Klingon cruisers, knowing full well her only choice was to leave Raqiin, Marcus, and Ensign Evans behind while she regrouped with the Khopesh and Takoba. If there had been room for it, she might have felt some relief that the doubt did not return. As it was, she simply gripped her armrests as the enemy vessels opened fire, orders stacking themselves neatly on the tip of her tongue.
Battle stations indeed.
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Post by Nola on May 25, 2017 18:05:41 GMT
SD 11705.18
Sara sat quietly in her Ready Room, head in her hands as she stared blankly at the floor. A violent storm had recently passed through her mind, and the results had been unpleasant. She had been outplayed and out maneuvered. Members of her crew were held captive, and her ship was in no shape to give chase. It was an intolerable sense of helplessness, one she equated with her darkest memories, and one she'd swore she'd never feel again.
That had been a foolish promise to make to herself. It was yet another deep flaw she'd proudly carved into her being in an attempt to flaunt reality, and, predictably, it had bitten her sqaure in the ass.
She knew what she had to do. She knew the course things needed to take from here, that it couldn't be her riding in on a white stallion to heroically rescue her crew or the colonists. Sara would have to do the one thing she was most afraid of doing: trusting someone else to save the day.
A hollow emptiness had filled her stomach, a deep pit in which she imagined burying her idealism, falsely connecting it with her desire to play hero. A short grunt saw her get to her feet. This wasn't doing her any good, this self-pity and melodrama. It did absolutely nothing to improve the situation, and it was also complete bullshit.
Sara was burying nothing but a sense of self-importance bred from situations long past. This was improvement, even if it didn't feel like it.
The important thing was the safe return of her crew. It didn't matter if it was at her hands or another Captain's. This was Starfleet, after all. For all the current turmoil, they were still family, and if one of her fellow Captains could accomplish the mission, then that was good enough, which was convenient because she didn't have any other choice.
She managed a small laugh at herself as she threw on her uniform jacket, flicked a few loose hairs out of her eyes, and made her way to the bridge.
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Post by Nola on Jun 8, 2017 11:21:26 GMT
SD 11706.01
There were plenty of stories about seemingly-omnipotent beings putting the 'lesser' races through morality tests. Among the files one gained access to upon being named a Captain, those tended to be the more fascinating and perplexing ones. Now that she found herself involved in one herself, Sara was starting to grasp the annoyance those captains must have felt. Long story short, Sara was not feeling particularly friendly towards the Metron.
The Chiron and her crew had done nothing wrong, but now they had to somehow prove their worth to some aloof assholes. It was precisely the kind of bullshit that Sara was least inclined to tolerate. The fear of losing her crew again pressed her forward.
Now the trick was figuring out exactly what the Metron were looking for - what they were testing. At first, she thought they might be testing their treatment of temporal displacement as a way of measuring their logical refinement. It seemed unlikely the Metron cared much about continuity, however, or they wouldn't have taken such a risk with it. Given that this did seem to be a test, it was also possible they hadn't really traveled back in time. Thanks to a serious of late-night musings with Henry, it didn't take much for her to imagine that this might all just be in their heads, their synapses being manipulated by the Metron.
It seemed more likely that the Metron wanted to see what the Chiron would do if they had a chance to change the outcome of what had happened, and that was what Sara was banking on. If they were quick, they could intercept the Klingons and stop the attack on the colony. She had a suspicion, however, that there would be some added wrinkle. There was a piece (or several) still missing from the puzzle, and Sara would need to keep on toes.
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Post by Nola on Jun 29, 2017 16:18:43 GMT
SD 11706.22
Sara had been doing the nose-bridge-pinch thing for an indeterminate amount of time. She could feel eyes on her, and could practically hear Raqiin debating whether to say something. Her mind was ablaze with thought and mild panic, but she managed to break through it enough to take a deep breath and open her eyes.
"You have the bridge, Commander," she said to Raq, getting to her feet and beelining for the Ready Room. A series and deep, measured breaths followed as she made her way to the replicator.
"Uh, give me a, uh," she stammered. Her measuring faltered a bit. "Fuck it, give me a hot chocolate."
A black mug appeared, steam rising through a layer of miniature marshmallows. She took it in her hands and proceeded to the couch, slumping into with a long sigh. Tired of the churn, she forced her thoughts to settle. It was over; there was no need to panic, at least not until she gave her report to Admiral Telex.
Sara had taken an elective course at the Academy, Psychology 305S - Interactions With Advanced Beings, headed by Professor Adexa. The course was an examination of the observed psychological effects of dealing with highly advanced beings like the Q, or the Prophets. It had been a fascinating class, if not the most rigorous. Such interactions were few and far between, so it was largely conjecture-based discussion. Still, most of the cases discussed had the same few things in common.
First was an enhanced sense or mortality. Encountering a being that seemed relatively omnipotent tended to cause an increase in one's sense of insignificance. These beings could, conceivably, eliminate whole ships with very little apparent effort. Appropriately, the sample cases shared a lot of symptoms with near-death experiences.
This existential dread would frequently be followed by periods of depression, or dissatisfaction. Such an encounter seemed to instill a sense of meaninglessness, which was also common to near-death experiences. The patient would ruminate on their status in life, ask if they were doing what they wanted to be doing, or whether they would be satisfied if their life had ended.
The worst-case scenario seemed to be an onset of fatalism, or apathy. Some would get stuck on the notion that they were so less powerful than these beings they'd encountered that their relatively mundane lives would lose any sense of purpose. Best-case was a sense of urgency about one's life; if an all-powerful alien could wink them out of existence at a moment's notice, then it appealed to them to try and experience as much of life as they could.
At present, Sara was gaining a newfound appreciation for the similarity between such an encounter and a near-death event.
When she had been wherever the Metron had taken her, she has been in business mode. She'd had a job to do, an objective to achieve, so she had focused on that. She didn't let herself think about the implications of dealing with the Metron, of how tenuous her position as an extant creature had been. It was a decidedly Rome-like trait, but one she had developed long before meeting her old friend. It had largely been a response to her brother's listlessness when they were both adolescents. Henry would disappear into these panicked hypotheticals, whether it was fretting that he was insane, or questioning the point in living, or just getting hung up on their father's assholery.
It had been up to Sara to pierce through that fugue of doubt and worry, and she had gotten pretty good at it. It was one of the things that made her an effective Captain. Still, on occasion, it led to one of these episodes, where her heart would palpitate, and her mind would spin into overdrive with a vague sense of panic.
She didn't need to think too hard about why. In fact, that was becoming increasingly common over the last year or so, ever since she and Thalev had adopted Ulani. Sara had so much more to lose, now, and the slow realization of her encounter with the Metron could only make her think of what she'd stood to lose had it all gone south.
Sara took a long drink of her cocoa, deliberately inhaling the sweet scent and focusing on the warmth in her hands and filling her insides. Mindfullness, to bring herself back to the present.
It was over. She had succeeded. She would see Thalev and Ulani very soon. She'd have to figure out how to explain what had happened to her daughter (holy shit, she had a daughter!), unless Thalev had already thought of something. Still, she would hold her little girl that evening, and make out with her husband, and come up with a prank to pull on Raqiin at some point because she had succeeded.
She was alive, and she was going to revel in that fact. She would choose the best-case scenario.
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Post by Nola on Jul 2, 2017 18:26:50 GMT
SD 11706.29
"Um... that one!" exclaimed Ulani, excitedly poking at a holographic cube. The cube burst with a satisfying pop, followed by a triumphant ring.
"That's right!" cheered Sara. A new batch of shapes filled the space between them, and Ulani was on the hunt once more, tongue stuck out in concentration.
Sara and Thalev had been using the matching program with Ulani for a few months, and already she'd progressed beyond the basic levels. Now the differences were more and more subtle, and Sara sometimes had trouble figuring out which one didn't belong herself. Ulani continued to progress with impressive ease. That and her reasoning with the dinner-cake were just the latest instances of Ulani's impressive mental acuity; the girl was barely six years old.
They had been told, ad nauseum, that Cardassian children developed their mental faculties quickly. The Cardassian affinity for complicated schemes wasn't just a cultural thing, after all; it's what their minds were geared for. As a result, it was proving a struggle to gauge exactly how far along Ulani was. Sometimes, they provided learning tasks that were too difficult, and sometimes not difficult enough, both of which frustrated the child. This particular program had been a chance discovery, and it was exactly what they'd been looking for.
Sara guessed it would be obsolete in a month.
She had to work to suppress a small fear at how smart Ulani was, as she unwilling thought of her brother. She and Thalev has discussed it at length, and they'd committed to ensuring that their daughter's brilliance wouldn't be the most important aspect of her life. In practice, this meant a lot of breaks for nonsense fun, which was why Thalev was emitting a string of watered down swears of frustration as he tried to program a nutritional cake for dinner. The girls found this to be greatly amusing.
Sara switched off the shapes program to a disappointed 'Aw' from Ulani.
"Unfortunately, Mommy needs to work tonight," Sara announced. Ulani's frown deepened.
"Gotta throw a party for a bunch of nerds," Sara explained, dragging the girl into her lap and giving her a squeeze.
"Haha, nerds," laughed Ulani. "Nerrrrrrrds." Sara snickered and kissed the top of Ulani's head.
"So, if we wanna do a song, we gotta do it now," she added, drawing an excited clap.
"Song! Song! Sooooong!" Ulani cheered. "Mommy, play something new!"
Sara laughed and cast a look over her shoulder at Thalev, who was tapping diligently at the replicator.
"Alright," she sighed, trying to think of one she hadn't done before that would be kid-friendly.
"Here's one," she said after a few moments. She took Ulani's hands and gently clapped them to the beat.
"I'll be your lake, if you are my skipping stone I'll be your company, if you find yourself alone I'll be your money, if you can't afford a home I'll be your lake, if you are my skipping stone
"I'll be your jacket, if you're stuck out in the cold And I'll be your medication, when you're sick and tired and old And I'll be your umbrella, if that roof just won't hold I'll be your jacket, if you're stuck out in the cold
"But of course, I know that you need time to grooooo-ow!"
Sara sang through a couple more verses, desperately trying to think ahead as she sang to recall anything she needed to censor. The song hadn't been intended for children, but it worked. Hopefully Ulani wouldn't dig too deeply into the lyrics.
Ulani clapped and sang the first line a few times as Sara let her go. The girl promptly ran off in a seemingly random direction, only to return, kiss her on the cheek, and run off again. Sara just grinned stupidly on the floor, basking in the warmth of parenthood.
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Post by Nola on Aug 24, 2017 18:20:33 GMT
SD 11708.24 with Andrew as Thalev Idrani
He didn't drink much, but today was definitely a good day for something with a kick. Thalev looked down into his glass of Andorian ale, a bottle he'd been given by his late friend Jonathan Rome. He missed his company, especially today.
He sat in his armchair, which he'd dragged across the room in order to sit facing the window. The stars stretched out before him. If he leaned forwards and strained his neck, he could just about see the Hirogen ship escorting the Chiron. So he sat back.
He rested his other arm on his belly, subconsciously holding the part of his body the last Hirogen he'd met had thoroughly explored with a knife. "Computer, dim the lights," he said, annoyed that the reflection of his Borg implant could occasionally be seen in the window. This was not a good day.
Sara finally managed to reach the seclusion of her ready room, if only for a few minutes. She didn't know how long the Hirogen would take to deliberate her request, but she would need to be on the bridge when the answer came.
Part of her wanted to avoid the call she was about to make. Any distraction could prove costly at that point - it would be a lot simpler if she just pressed on and talked to Thalev later.
He deserved to know what was going on, however, so she tapped her badge.
"Thalev?" she called.
Her voice broke Thalev's thought train. A good thing, considering the dark path it was taking. "Sara?" he called back, almost unsure whether he'd actually heard her or simply imagined it.
"Hey," she greeted, putting on a small smile despite the situation. "I'm sorry, I haven't had much chance to let you know what's going on, but I've got a couple minutes now. Is Ulani ok?"
"Ulani's fine, been asleep a while now. Still wants to try that nutritious cake idea again." He paused, then, "You know you don't need to apologise dear, I know how it is. How are you doing up there?"
Sara took a deep breath and slumped onto her couch.
"Not great," she sighed. "Our negotiations with the Vaadwuar fell through, and they kind of kicked us out of the underspace tunnel directly into the Delta Quadrant. We, uh... we're currently on the border of Hirogen space."
"I doubt you really had any real chances of negotiation with the Vaadwaur. Sounds like the Cardassians and Vaadwaur had already come to an agreement." Idrani paused. He was retired now, but as a former Captain he was used to getting all the reports about any situation. He was training himself to get used to not having that stream of information, but was finding that you could learn a lot without needing the official reports anyway. The Hirogen ship out of the window, for example, and if you listened carefully, it was easy to pick up the mumbling conversations of officers going from place to place over the ship mentioning the Borg.
"I can't say I'm pleased to be here. I can't really think of many other places I'd least like to be." He downed another sip of his drink, wishing they were having this conversation in person.
"I know," she whispered. The memories of their last encounter with the Hirogen played in her thoughts. She could see Thalev laid up on the biobed, his insides being held together with microsutures and stasis fields. She could recall her own ineffectual attempt to fight an Alpha. So, too, could she remember the horror she'd felt when she'd heard about his assimilation and subsequent rescue. They'd been apart at the time, but it had felt like a dagger in her chest all the same. For all the revulsion she'd felt at the realization of where they were, however, she could only imagine how Thalev must have felt to hear about their Hirogen escort.
"It was the Hirogen or the Borg," she managed to say, taking a deep breath. "I've requested that we be allowed to transit to the other side of Hirogen space. We won't be here for any longer than we need to be."
Thalev pondered that for a moment, wondering if the Hirogen would be true to their word even if they accepted the request. "How are you?" he asked in a way Sara would know he wanted the real answer.
Sara sighed and ran a hand through her hair a few times. In truth, she wasn't entirely sure how she was. She still had her 'game face' on to some degree, and part of her felt she could wait to dissect her feelings when they were back on the right side of the galaxy. Still, she wasn't going to lie.
"I'm scared," she admitted. "There's no telling how long it might take to figure out how to get back into the underspace tunnels. I have no idea how far away we are from the Turei, who are our best lead. I don't want to be stuck here for years like Voyager was. On top of that, the Federation has no idea about the Vaadwuar. We're the only ones who know, so we absolutely need to get back, or at least get a message through..."
She was up quickly, moving to her desk as a new option entered her mind. She only hoped she'd downloaded the right portion of the file on their predecessor.
"The Hirogen destroyed the Borg," she continued. "They lost a ship in the battle. We had the chance to assist, but I hesitated."
"I heard the Hirogen ordered you to a certain course. Helping against the Borg may have actually antagonised them." He put his empty glass down on the floor, desiring another but deciding against it so he could be alert should Ulani wake and need something. "I think being scared is pretty normal in this situation, there's a lot of unknowns. Your crew is strong, they'll pull together through this." He could just say that everything would be alright, but he didn't know that, and didn't particularly feel confident of it. It was hard to be optimistic when he was sat between the two enemies who had caused him the most grief in his life.
Sara remained quiet for an extended period of time, mulling over the fact that Thalev had echoed her own justification for inaction. It could have meant that she'd made the right call, but part of her couldn't help but feel otherwise.
"We've been through worse," she said, repeating what she'd said to Raqiin. "We'll make it through this, too."
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Post by Einar on Aug 24, 2017 18:56:57 GMT
oh yes! what a trip down memory lane. I really enjoyed having that Hirogen cut you up like a pie
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Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2017 19:33:18 GMT
One damned tasty pie, though.
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Post by Nola on Aug 31, 2017 8:47:06 GMT
SD 11708.24
Sara made record time from the bridge turbolift to the Ready Room. She didn't look at anyone on the way, didn't tell Raqiin she had the bridge (or even see if she was there) - she just walked out one door and through another, and tried desperately to pretend that no one was looking.
It was there, sitting ready on her desk: a hypospray and a PADD with instructions, courtesy of Dr. Evans. She made a note to put Penelope in for a promotion at her earliest convenience. Raqiin probably deserved one, too. Fuck it - if they made it back to the Alpha Quadrant, promotions and medals for everyone!
Sara glanced quickly at the instructions, set the proper dose, and injected herself without hesitation. Then she sat, and she waited, and her facade crumble in an instant. The hypospray slipped from her trembling hand as she brought them to her face. Her chest tied itself in knots as a wave of revulsion, rage, and panic crested over her mental levies. It was no good trying to hold it back now, and she let herself feel what she felt: sheer rage that that Hirogen fuck had gotten close to her daughter; disgust at the gall he'd had in boarding her ship, and subjecting Thalev to his bullshit scans; immense panic at the idea that they may be stuck in the Delta Quadrant for years, and not knowing whether the Federation would still be there if and when they got back; supreme grief at the notion she'd never see her brother again; and, to top it all off, the realization that she wasn't going to be there when Tony got out of prison.
Tears spilled freely from her eyes, accompanied by muffled sobs and and the start of a guttural scream that she somehow managed to swallow. Eventually, her psych classes managed to cut through the massive bezoar ravaging her id, and she started to take a series of measured, if shaky breaths. Breathe in for six second, visualize your favorite color, then breathe out for eight and visualize your least favorite. Good in, bad out. Ignore the trembling, mascara-stained hands. Six seconds, eight seconds.
The storm passed, leaving Sara exhausted and shaken, but alive. Ulani was fine. Thalev was ok. The ship and crew were safe, at least for now. Just breathe...
She retrieved the hypospray and deposited it in her desk drawer. Then she made for the small wash room and cleaned her hands and face. She made a concentrated effort to look herself in the eyes, to observe the streaks of black on her cheeks. She managed a small, stuffy laugh at her own expense - she looked like she'd gone on a bender the night before a final. Using the small pen she kept in the washroom for just this sort of thing, she touched up her eyeliner, doing her best to push everything else from her mind.
They would get through this. One foot in front of the other, and so on - she had to believe that, even if it might not be true.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2017 13:12:49 GMT
I'm starting to feel guilty for what Sumner's going through!
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