TAC Ensign D'Mera

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Re: TAC Ensign D'Mera - USS Hooke

Postby Jack Lucas » Fri Feb 21, 2014 3:16 am

Unbriefed

Stardate 11402.20

D'Mera brushed down the corridor with two large suitcase style crates dangling at her sides. "I should've used an anti-grav sled," she thought. It was too late, now. Sumner had ordered her to bring Extra-Vehicular Activity suits and Personal Shield Generators for six to Transporter Room 1. An away team was off to do... Something...

She hadn't been monitoring bridge activity after Sumner deposited her at the Master Systems Display. Was that part of her duties - she wondered? He had set her off to run level four diagnostics on all weapon systems and defensive systems. There was no mention of a mission.

The hairs on the back of her green neck had stood up when they dropped out of warp - presumably something was going on out there, but down here in the lower decks, it wasn't always very clear.

She took a sharp turn where the corridor met the main hallway. These Nebula class saucers were enormous. D'Mera stepped into Transporter Room 1 and nodded at the Engineer at the station. He gave a momentary leer before turning back to his console.

There in front of the pad was a rack of EVA suits brought up from Cargo Bay 1. The cadet at OPS had sent them up. She shook her head as she eyeballed the armory closet in the corner, where a dozen EVA suits were stored. For some reason, the cadet had decided to send these up. "I wonder who would have to bring them back down after the away team beamed out? Oh, D'Mera, of course" - she thought. No matter - she wasn't about to complain about a fresh cadet, when she herself was just two weeks out of the Academy.

The heavy crates settled on the floor as she snapped them open. In the first, Personal Shield Generators. Not standard issue for away teams, but she made a mental note to put some in the transporter room armory closets, as it appeared Sumner had use for them. "Good idea." She said aloud, to herself, knowing that Sumner was putting the safety of his away team first. That seemed like the kind of man she'd heard about, "professional" as the Captain had put it.

She set the Shield Generators on the rack near the transporter pad and opened the second crate. Phasers. Standard issue, but freshly refurbished and tuned. The ones in the armory closet a few meters away were here before she and Sumner had arrived on board, and might not meet his standards. She wasn't taking any chances. Most officers, aside from tactical teams, didn't carry phasers onboard the ship - but it was her duty to have them prepared in the event they were needed. She set them on the rack near the pad.

The EVA suits brought up from the Cargo Bay hung on the rack weren't powered or cleaned. They had been put in Cargo Bay 1 for storage, but here they were, and she was going to prep them before anyone got here... "Well, Sumner, were you going to send a team down here or not?" she thought aloud. The Engineer looked up from the transporter console, unsure if she was talking to him.

Panic - momentarily. She wondered, was she in the wrong Transporter Room? No, he'd said Transporter Room 1 - they must be on their way now.

The door chimed as Doctor Kymar and Lieutenant Sumner entered. They immediately began snatching suits off of the rack as she hurriedly turned each on and ran the biometric calibration diagnostic, a 20 second test, but for old suits pulled out of storage, probably necessary.

They were chattering to one another while D'Mera finished powering up the EVA suits. Dremel already had his on, so she began checking it for him. The other suits would need checked once they were worn as well. The away team continued dressing and adjusting their suits when Sumner turned to D'Mera...

"Thank you. Ensign, suit up." He said to her.

Her eyes went wide and her face twisted with confusion. "Sir?" was all she could muster.

"You heard me." He flashed her a charming smile as he zipped into his EVA suit.

D'Mera felt herself panicking. Anxiety wasn't typically part of her routine, but this was her first week on a Starship, and she'd just been selected as a member of an away team to... to...

She had no idea what this away team was on its way to do. She'd been running diagnostics in Main Engineering on the weapons systems, when Sumner had ordered her to bring supplies down to the Transporter Room... And now she was on the away team. She hadn't been briefed, she had no idea what kind of situation she was going into, and yet Sumner, her commanding officer, stood there confidently, checking his EVA suit and strapping on his personal field generator.

She pushed the anxiety aside and began fitting her suit. Kymar was checking the rest of the suits on the away team - had she overstepped her bounds by checking his? She made a note to herself, read up on Away Team procedure. The suit adjusted automatically to fit her, as she snapped the personal shield generator to her belt.

"First away mission?" the kind Doctor Kymar smiled at her.

"I guess." She muttered, sounding unsure. Confidence, she thought, don't show them you're anxious. Her arm hurt. She looked down - the Pheromone Inhibitor on her arm was caught in the EVA suit. She pushed it harder, as it shifted into place. She pushed some buttons on the forearm of the suit, checking the torso seal. Still intact. Good, she hadn't broken a highly complex piece of equipment. Good start.

Sumner and the mysterious XO whom she hadn't met stepped onto the pad as they chattered with each other. Shit, she thought. All we have are these phasers, but we're wearing EVA suits and bringing PSGs? She thought twice and looked at the rack, then to the armory closet.

She shuffled across the room and opened the door. It was musty - hadn't been checked since she arrived. Another mental note - have to check these rooms, Sumner can't be responsible for all her duties, she was going to have to be sure she picked up the slack. He had a whole ship to worry about as Chief Tactical Officer - the least she could do is keep the Transporter Armories stocked. She snatched two phaser rifles from the wall and checked the power cell on each. Full.

D'Mera stepped out of the closet and stumbled, no one noticed. She walked to the pad, thinking "confidence." She tossed Sumner a phaser rifle - he caught it with expert hands and deftly snapped the power cylinder to stun - which of course makes that cool sound. He looked at her with a confused look for a moment, but she didn't think anything of it.

She stepped on the pad and closed her eyes. Where are we going? What are we doing? Should I tell them I haven't been briefed? Are they going to brief me on the ground? Wait - are we going to somewhere that there's ground?

Sumner spoke from behind her. She opened her eyes and swung her head around.

"Ready, D'Mera?" he asked.

"No." she stuttered. Oh no. She'd said that aloud. Quick, think of something!

She cocked her hip and gave the slyest smile she could manage, meanwhile she was freaking out. How long would they stand on this pad? What were they waiting for?

It's never like the simulations, the Captain is probably negotiating with the Borg RIGHT NOW. This is it, she's going to die, she thought. We're transporting over to a Borg cube and she's going to die. She thought back to her Mok'Bara teacher - to die with honor... Wait, why are we dying on our first mission?

She nearly spoke when she heard the bells and rings of the Transporter- no one would hear her over the chiming lights, but as they left the pad for destination unknown, D'Mera muttered something quite obscene.
Last edited by Jack Lucas on Fri Feb 28, 2014 10:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: TAC Ensign D'Mera - USS Hooke

Postby C. J. Short » Fri Feb 21, 2014 9:41 am

Outstanding, Jack; I agree with James. D'Mera is awesome :)
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The Thing on the Holosuite

Postby Jack Lucas » Sun Feb 23, 2014 3:11 pm

The Thing on the Holosuite (Part 1)

Stardate 11402.23

Over the chimes of the transporter, destination unknown, she'd muttered something obscene. D'Mera's eyes were closed as the transporter room disappeared in a wisp of blue light. The transport was instantaneous, but her mind drifted, to another time when she'd been totally unprepared...

Flashback: Six years ago.

D'Mera was 16, and deep in the throes of adolescence. Primary school in San Francisco was much different than the life she could have had. Here, she was just another 16 year old girl learning how the world works, learning how people worked. At sixteen, you don't know much at all, let alone what you think you might know, and D'Mera was no different.

She was sure she had it all figured out. Her adoptive parents were both instructors at Starfleet Academy, in Starfleet Science. She would attend the academy, but avoid the sciences if at all possible. Her father was very disappointed, but not about that. She had just last night informed them that on her 18th birthday, shortly after she would start classes at the Academy, she'd be dropping the family name.

Mother was more understanding. D'Mera wanted to forge her own way in the world. It wasn't that she was leaving the family behind, it was in her nature to go beyond, outwards. An Orion of sixteen out in deep space might be part of a nest by now, dancing her way onto freighters and deep space haulers, and robbing them blind.

Orions had been scattered by the growth of the Federation, and tales of their ways had long ago forced them to push even further into unknown space. This was lightyears away for D'Mera. She was more focused on getting through High School, and into the Academy.

Starfleet Academy, by far, was the largest educational institution in the Alpha Quadrant. Some might argue that historically, the Cardassian early educational system, or the Vulcan Science Academy, are more illustrious or tightly run, but the Academy had turned out the men and women of Starfleet, the most capable explorers in the galaxy. D'Mera wanted to do that. She wanted to be one of those.

The Academy wasn't too lofty a goal for an intelligent girl like D'Mera, but entry wasn't guaranteed. Part of her insistance on dropping her family name was to ensure she'd never be accused of nepotism. She was certain she could do this on her own.

She had six weeks until the Starfleet Academy Preparatory Program Pre-Testing. It was a rigorous two week course to qualify for the Preparatory Program itself, which she would take her final year of Primary. All of her time was dedicated to studying, to preparing. Her Father had been paramount in helping her keep her head down and focused. He had taken a sabbatical from the Academy for the week to help her prepare. Every day after school, they settled down in the small breakfast nook in their home. The tall bay windows faced West, a very distant bridge poked between the hills. Absolute silence, aside from the occasional tap of a PADD or flip of a page. Her Father insisted she use paper manuals, ones he had inherited from his Father. They were badly out of date, and D'Mera found some of the uniforms in them to be quite hilarious. The mid 23rd century attire was especially delicious. She recognized the skirts and low cut tops the female officers wore, as they'd come back into fashion in San Francisco among young women when she was a child. It was the kind of attire she one day aspired to wear as a woman.

Now, of course, she dashed those thoughts and longed for the modern uniform of Starfleet. She had waning interest in fashion or friends, especially with her overprotective Father. But after a week long study binge, her Mother was displeased.

"She's a teenager. You've had her cooped up all week." Her Mother said, wiping her hands with a towel.

Dinner was almost ready. The sun was setting in the bay windows, and heavy orange light filled the nook and kitchen. Clouds blocked the direct rays, which most nights forced them to dim the windows or even lower the curtains, but this evening was nice. D'Mera's Mother insisted on cooking one real meal a week - on Friday nights. D'Mera and her Father were pressed in at the table, barely aware of her Mother's comments.

"Did you hear me?" She prodded him with a wooden spoon to the shoulder.

"Gah! What?" He was startled.

She waved the wooden spoon around like a saber, "You're going to burn her out. The stress will eat her alive."

D'Mera smiled and looked up from the PADD. "I'm fine, Mom. I'm not stressing." She was lying. Her Father had high expectations, and the disappointment of the name-change conversation last night had him bearing down on her even more. She hid the anxiety like she hid her ability. Deep, deep down.

"Well, I will continue to remind you to take it easy once in a while. No studying after dinner. You're relaxing. Rent a holonovel or call up Brittany or something." Her mother spun around in the kitchen, droplets of water spraying off the spoon as she waved it around. "You KNOW what happens when you get too stressed out."

Her Father finally spoke, "Will you CUT IT OUT, Diane?" He was loud, but not angry. Never abusive. "She's fine."

D'Mera saw that the stress of the test was wearing on her parents as well. They had high expectations, and might secretly be as worried as D'Mera was about the test and the preparatory program and the application process itself. Orions weren't common in Starfleet, and were required to wear pheromone inhibitors as standard issue. Her chances of acceptance might be slimmer than any of them were willing to admit.

D'Mera wasn't fond of the inhibitor her primary school made her wear, either. It was a sleeve that pulled up on her left arm. The bulk of the device prevented her from wearing long sleeves, which meant no transporter weekends to Colorado or Vancouver with her friends. The cold weather was just too much.

She pressed two fingers to the Padd and closed it. Her Father noticed her nails. Sharp as razors.

"File." He pointed to her hand and grimaced.

She'd forgotten. Orion nails grew fast, and naturally sharpened as they got longer. D'Mera filed them every morning, but she must've gotten distracted.

"How long until dinner?" D'Mera asked as she stacked the PADD on the pile in the center of the table in the nook.

"Fifteen." Her Mother replied with a wave of her spatula, steam rising from in front of her.

"I'm going to check-out a holonovel for tonight." D'Mera said as she crossed out of the kitchen and through the dining room, towards their holosuite. The benefit of being the adopted daughter of two Starfleet Instructors had to be the personal holosuite. Typically not found in private homes on Earth, her parents had coaxed one out of the Academy years ago, for Astrometrics and Simulation writing. She'd never found much interest in holosimulation writing, though her Father once proposed she try it as a career if Starfleet didn't work out. She had little interest, and her only foray into creating her own characters had resulted in a particularly annoying, however heroic action hero. Her father disapproved and accused her of attempting to write something romantic, which he was adamant was beyond the scope of a holosuite's intented use. It was a mess, the whole thing.

She stepped into the holosuite, it was dim, and no bigger than a bedroom. This particular brand of holosuite, of Andorian design, was only suitable for two to three users.

"Computer, Load ten novels from D'Mera's Genre Preferences, and ten random novels. Browse mode."

The holosuite dawned into a green pasture that stretched for miles into treelines and mountains in the distance. A small white gazebo had erected itself about 10 meters in front of her, where several characters blinked into existence, representatives of their respective stories. She heard her Mother clamoring from the kitchen beyond the archway.

"NO Vulcans!" Her Mother cried out as the holosuite door slid shut and vanished.

D'Mera's face squished with disappointment. Though her parents had raised her on Vulcan principles of channeling emotion and controlling it, they had more recently been pushing her away from them. Vulcan's could be irritable in heavy doses, with all that logic. D'Mera found Vulcan emotion purging techniques incredibly valuable in subduing her pheromone abilities, to the point where her parents insisted she not wear her inhibitor at home. She rubbed her arm at the thought and stepped towards the gazebo.

There were two Nausicaans brandishing energy weapons at the top step of the gazebo. D'Mera frowned at them. "Computer, remove Nausicaan poetry combat." They looked at each other in horror as they blinked out of existence.

A tall man in a stove-pipe hat greeted her as she entered the large gazebo. He had a beard that strapped around his chin. He removed his hat and gave a slight bow.

"Good evening, Miss. Would you be interested in hearing about the sixteenth President of the United States of America? I have wonderful tales to tell you about the abolition of the horror of slavery in this land, and my hand in it." The wise man smiled widely, his bony face pleasant but sad.

"No, thank you" she smiled, "but give Tad my best."

He bowed again and disappeared. In his place a pleasant man with a powdered wig appeared. He frowned as his eyes fell upon her, "A hymn, my beauty? It's solemn and true." John Newton was a familiar face, she smiled again. "No, thank you. Computer, remove 'History of slavery' as a genre for this session."

Newton disappeared, no one took his place. As she took her final step into the gazebo she scanned the small crowd.

The ten-gallon hat on the Cowboy from the Ancient West caught her eye, but she knew him too well. He tipped his cap in recognition. Father would be furious if he caught her in that program again. It wasn't particularly romantic, but there were plenty of nice looking men to look at or punch. She continued looking around.

A young dark haired boy with a lightning bolt above his eye was surprised to find himself here. Two men in tuxedos, both with tumblers, stood laughing against the railing. Dancing around the perimeter of the gazebo was a Bolian woman. How beautiful, D'Mera thought as she pressed her hand to her chin. A tall quiet man in a deerstalker played the violin with vigor. Green veils swam around a young reptilian woman with a knife between her teeth. A fat, ugly man in a ballcap patted his baseball mitt.

She approached a sweaty, handsome man holding a shovel. He had chains around his legs. He squatted as she walked up and sat on the flat part of his shovel, holding the handle out in front of him like he was riding a broom.

"Hey boss." he smiled with candor.

She smiled back, "What do we have here?"

He scratched his dirty face and looked around, "You got a Lucas Jackson."

"And what do you do?"

The man touched the bottle opener strung around his neck and fiddled with it, "Oh, just passing the time, I guess."

He seemed interesting, but the chains reminded her of slavery again. It was a topic she had often been interested in, seeing as how everyone assumed she had at one time or another had been one.

Orion women were rarely truly slaves, but rather were the premier among the Orion caste. Acting as slaves to infiltrate their enemies, or anyone they wanted to be their enemies. Still, the subject had grown weary for her. She nodded at the chained man and walked away, he tilted his head and watched her bottom as she walked away. D'Mera approached a young Vulcan boy who had clearly been bullied, a green stain marked his cheek.

"Are you alright?" she posed.

"I am. Can I interest you in the history of the Federaton's greatest crew?" the boy spoke with a familiar voice.

She sighed audibly, "Honestly, I'm a little overstuffed with the Federation right now. Maybe another time."

D'Mera finally approached a paranoid looking man who held his hat in his hands. He was nervous and gripped his bowler tightly.

"What story are you from?" She asked, as she'd never seen him in the browser before.

"I'm from the stories of H.P. Lovecraft, young lady." The man hurriedly spoke, his voice weary and frightened.

"Awwww, 'Love Craft?' That sounds adorable." She clasped her hands together. "What time period and planet are you from?" She said with delight!

The man's eyes shifted from side to side. "Uh... Our stories are told in the early 20th century on Earth, though I have translations to, uh, multiple time periods and planets. The Shadow Over Qo'noS is particularly popular, uh, if you'd like to experience Lovecraft in 22nd century Klingon." The nervous man pulled a hankerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow.

"What is 'Love Craft's' primary theme?" She smiled, excited that a romance novel somehow made it through her Father's program filters.

The nervous man tightened the grip on his hat and leaned forward, his eyes wide in horror as he spoke to her, as if a warning, "Forbidden knowledge..." He whispered, then stepped back, looking down.

Her eyes grew as wide as his with interest. She couldn't help but smile, deviously. A beep from the computer, then the voice of her Mother.

"D'Mera, dinner." Her mother chirped.

D'Mera looked at the nervous man with a deadly smile, "Computer, download and compile an original 'Love Craft' story with D'Mera's preferences." She turned away from the gazebo and vaulted down the stairs. "Oh," she turned, "and make him green like me." She twirled on one foot to face the door. "Computer, End browse mode."

The horizon shrank as the gazebo and all of its inhabitants disappeared. The dim room remained, and a single pair of eyes watched D'Mera exit, and the door slide closed behind her.
Last edited by Jack Lucas on Mon Feb 24, 2014 1:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: TAC Ensign D'Mera - USS Hooke

Postby Aoibhe Ni » Mon Feb 24, 2014 12:42 am

Oooooh, nice ending! Nice middle, and start too. I find is so damn difficult to do "random" characters, I really appreciate it done well.

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Re: TAC Ensign D'Mera - USS Hooke

Postby James Greenman » Mon Feb 24, 2014 3:30 pm

That was a damn fine log! I'm really looking forward to Part 2, love me some Lovecraft. :cthulhu:
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The Thing on the Holosuite, II

Postby Jack Lucas » Mon Feb 24, 2014 4:51 pm

The Thing on the Holosuite (Part 2)

Stardate 11402.24

Flashback, Six Years Ago:

D'Mera felt full. On the dark wood of the dining room table in front of her sat the remains of a ham, mashed potatoes and green beans. Her Mother insisted on a "homemade" meal once a week - and was very enthusiastic about cooking it. Sadly, D'Mera's human mother was not the cook she wanted to be. The stark contrast between the antique wooden table and the modern gray and silver finishings of their home was part of the new style. Antique-chic was all the rage. D'Mera hated it. She liked the old shape of the table, the curved legs and the bulbous corners, but the contrast with everything else in their house was upsetting. She didn't care for this sort of thing, normally, but it bugged her. The potatoes were lumpy and the ham was overcooked, all that aside, it was an "ok" meal, by her Mother's standards. D'Mera pulled the napkin from her lap and set it on the table, looking up at her Mother and Father.

"May I be excused?" she asked politely.

At 16, D'Mera had already gone through her rebellious stages, and was more focused on studying for her entrance into Starfleet, than she was going out and having fun. With the Academy's Preparatory Program Pre-Testing just six weeks away, she'd spent every evening for the last few weeks studying. She didn't mind, much. Starfleet was her passion. Most kids her age had no idea what they wanted to do after primary school ended. D'Mera was different, she had ambition. Though the Academy was a popular destination for Earth students, there were a limited number of applications each year. Many of those slots were promised to the best and brightest from other worlds in the Federation. Nearly a quarter of the students were from either Vulcan or Andoria. Another five percent of recruitment was reserved for new Federation planets, or protectorates of the United Federation of Planets.

D'Mera tried not to think about how few slots there were, and concentrate on what she had going for her. Two parents in Starfleet, teaching at the Academy. She lived in San Francisco, and had been a part of the community since she was a child. There were setbacks as well, she was the biological child of a politcal prisoner, and was of a race not common in Starfleet, the Orion.

"Sure - leave your plate." her Mother smiled, seeing an empty plate seemed to please her. She suddenly chided, "no books tonight!"

D'Mera twisted her face in a teasing glance and set off for the restroom. She washed her hands and face and examined the puncture marks on her forearm. Her pheromone inhibitor was relatively new technology, not advanced in many years. It was mostly used for prisoners of the Federation with pheromone abilities, and therefore, not very considerate for a free woman with no ill intentions. Her Doctor had told her that one day, the cuff would be smaller - though he insinuated that she be glad she's allowed to walk free at all. A 16 year old girl isn't going to change the minds of those with prejudices that go back to the times of the powerful Orion Syndicate.

She pulled her sleeve back down and mussed with her hair, focusing on the holonovel she had ordered. D'Mera had mistakenly planned what she thought was going to be a romantic tale, by an author known as "Love Craft" dealing with a subject of "Forbidden Knowledge. It all sounded very elicit to her, which was pleasing, as her Father had filtered out most of the love stories, fearing his green-skinned adolescent daughter would get the wrong idea or toy with her abilities (which he had forbade).

Unfortunately for D'Mera, she had actually ordered a holonovel from H.P. Lovecraft, an Ancient American Horror Writer from the early 20th century. She was likely in for quite a shock.

She exited the bathroom and headed towards the holosuite. She clapped her hand at her parents across the main hall in the dining room in a half-attempted wave. "See you in a few hours" she said in passing.

The door to the holosuite slid open, and the room was unusually dark. A darkness that didn't seem familiar to D'Mera. It was almost unnaturally dark, as she stepped in slowly, now. She held her hand out and saw it slip further into darkness, despite the light from the hallway behind her.

"Computer, lights?" she snapped, with that teenage tone.

Two negative beeps.

"This program requires environmental adjustments to the spatial orientation systems and safety protocols. Please approve." The computer said, quite nicely.

"Safety protocols?" D'Mera squinted. That didn't seem normal. "Computer, approve spatial... orientation figments (?) - but keep safety protocols in place." Her Father had been quite adamant about never messing with his holosuite settings - not to mention she didn't have the authority to override such a baseline command.

"Warning, Humanoids with vascular disorders should consult a physician before running this program." The Computer chirped, as the doors behind D'Mera closed.

The darkness became enveloping. She looked for her hands in front of her but could not find them. "Shit, it's broken." She muttered to herself. The holosuite was a safe haven for swearing, like school. She reached out in front of her and bent over. "Computer, lights?" she said, with that tone, again. No lights came on. The darkness felt like it went on forever in every direction. She was starting to wonder if the program was malfunctioning.

She thought she heard someone in the distance. Was it breathing?

"Hello?" She said aloud. She suddenly ran into something and she screeched. She reached out again, it felt solid. A wall? No. She touched, running her hand across the bumpy, uneven surface. It had some give, like nodules that each pushed in slightly. She gripped at one of the bumps and pulled a little. A book. She knew books, her Dad had some. She felt out the bookshelf and found that it must be part of a wall. She felt along the wall, looking for a door control or a light panel...

She frowned, though you wouldn't know it through the darkness, as she realized this was the early 20th century, the paranoid old man had said, where they didn't have light panels. Maybe a switch, she couldn't remember if they had electricity then. History wasn't D'Mera's strong suit.

Her fingers rapped along the wooden wall as she walked to her right, following it towards a door, she hoped. Her sharp nails scratched at the wall, whoops! She'd forgotten to file them like her Father had told her. Suddenly her hands felt something cold and smooth.

It was a candle holder, she thought, on the wall. She pulled at it and found that it was stuck. Her nails cut the soft wax of the candle stuck on it. "Uh." she thought "Computer, novel supplies." She hoped this would work. Some historical holonovels gave you a starting package of equipment, for those with little knowledge of the program or time period. She felt the weight of a satchel over her shoulder. She set it down and fumbled with it, attempting to open it.

This is the first time she felt the floor. She touched it accidentally at first, but then she felt along it for a moment. Was that... hair?

It was solid beneath her feet, but to the touch, was cold, moist and soft. She could press her fingertips into it gently, and push in an inch or so. She rubbed her hand across it, feeling what she thought might be small scilia or hair sticking out of the floor. Panic suddenly struck her as she accidentally nicked the floor wit her sharp Orion nail, causing the ground to suddenly shake. A distant moan erupted as her heart began to race. She fiddled for the bag and rooted around inside for something she hoped would produce light, only a few books and a small cardboard box that rattled. Matches! Maybe, she thought, she fiddled with the box and felt it spill in front of her.

Ugh, gross she thought, she reached down and found a match rolling on the sweaty, meaty floor, she felt at the side of the cardboard box for a striking surface. There. She pulled the match across the box, and suddenly a burst of flame in front of her. She quickly found the candle on the wall and lit it, before the match extinguished itself. The sulfer smell was fresh to D'Mera, it reminded her of her Vulcan candles she had in her room, she used the for meditation. She felt calm, smelling the sulfer, subsiding some of her panic. She backed herself to the wall and looked around.

She could see she was in a room with no windows. Bookcases lined the wall she was on. The floor, which she'd worriedly thought had been made of flesh and hair, was simply wooden, and now creaked as she stepped around on it. Her spilled matches littered the wooden floor in front of her. She examined the candle on the wall and tried to see if she could disengage it somehow. No. She further examined the room.

An old wooden writing desk sat towards the center of the room, and the far wall appeared to have bookshelves in it like this one did. She bent down and picked up the satchel and gathered some of the matches into the box. She looked up. On the desk sat a 4 pronged candelabra that seated 5 candles. The one in the middle was taller than the other four. She went to the desk and began striking a match. She lit each of the candles and lifted her brow.

"Ooh, candlelight." She thought, this must be where the romance begins.

She bagged the matchbox and put the satchel over her shoulder as she examined the room further. A doorway sat in the corner, she led herself to it with the candelabra.

It was a heavy wooden door, ornate with a carved design. She couldn't make it out - was it an Octopus? No, it looked more like a dragon... Or maybe it was a fish. It was silly, she determined, a carving of nothing in particular. The glass doorknob was even more intricate than the door, with a brass fitting and something pressed into the end that faced outwards. She held the candlelight forward and squinted to make it out.

Well, that's not in english, she quickly determined, trying to read it. In the distance, she heard the wood creak. She spun around, expecting to find her man, tall and green, she hoped. But there was no one. She bit her lip as she turned back to the door. She reached out and grasped the handle with her free hand, and gave it a twist. These manual doors were common in historical holonovels- and she'd even seen a real one in one of the shops downtown. The heavy wooden door inched open with a whine, as the iron hinges squealed. This door likely hadn't been opened in a long time, she thought.

It was starting to occur to D'Mera that she might be in the wrong program, still, her curiosity was piqued, and she wasn't about to give up. Over the years, she'd developed a strong sense of pride, and rarely gave up on anything she'd set her mind to, including finding the romance in this dark and dreary program.

She opened the door, creaks and all, to find another room, almost exactly like the one she was in. It wasn't lit, aside from some candlelight in the far corner. She looked down at the wood in front of her, slowly, constantly questioning the floors of this place. As she stepped further into the room, the candlelight in the far corner flickered and dimmed. She held out the candelabra in front of her, only to see the distant flames disappear into the next room. The silhouette of a young woman laid in shadow across the wooden floor. She shuffled forwards.

"Hello?" she spoke to the apparition, her voice echoing, but the other woman quickly disappeared into the next room. She looked around, for any sign of where she was or what she should be doing. She examined another desk, nearly identical to the one in the last room. She looked back at the door she'd come through, to examine it for carvings, only to find there was no door. D'Mera's face was confused. The orange candlelight reflected through her eyes as she spun around to examine the door that the other young woman had gone through.

It was identical to the one she had come through, it had an ornate design and a glass handle, just as the other one had. She shook her head, "This isn't right." She began lighting the candles around the perimeter of the room. Between each bookshelf was a smooth black iron candle place in the wall, with a small domed indentation behind it. As she lit each tall white candle from her candelabra, the light in the room grew. Six candles on each wall, by the time they were all lit, the room was navigable, despite the waning and whispering light from the flames. They were licking, she noticed, there must be wind coming in from somewhere.

It had just now occurred to her to examine the ceiling. It was a tin roof, with another design in each plate. It was swirly and tentacled, like the doorway, though she couldn't make out what the picture was exactly. The candlelight reflected off of the dull tin in a way that prevented her from discerning what the design was exactly. She felt her foot crook as she stepped on something. She rolled her foot back and forth as she bent down with the candelabra. A few errant matches on the floor, she checked her satchel and found that the box was where she had left it. She had spilled a few in the last room.

Suddenly it dawned on her, this was the room she was last in. The woman in the doorway she'd seen was her, exiting the room the first time. She caught a chill as the implications started setting in. "Comp-" she started, before deciding against it. She was here now, might as well play it out. She felt anxious, nervous even. She had goosebumps on her arms, and she rubbed at them with her free hand.

D'Mera set the candelabra down on the desk and began examining the chair side of it. There were a few drawers, she slid them open, one by one. In the pencil drawer there was a pen and a small bottle of black liquid, ink, she proposed. She slid it shut and grasped one of the larger paper drawers, empty. The next contained another book. She was reminded that she had two in her satchel.

She grasped the book and placed it on the desk, and shut the drawer, in the next drawer was an onyx orb with a brass neck sticking out of it. It was round and polished, and darker than anything she'd ever seen. She held it up to the candles and found that it bore no reflection of the flickering flames.

Weird, she thought. That's not normal. Her face was crooked with confusion as she set the orb down on the desk and opened the last drawer. It seemed deeper than it should. She shut it, examining the outside, it clearly had a bottom that fit awkwardly into the desk, like the other drawers. It was an old desk, and not built to standards that would be welcome on any starship, the gaps in the drawers were misaligned and crooked. She slid the drawer open again and looked down into it, it seemed to go on forever. She suddenly had a thought.

"It's a mystery." She spoke aloud, finally discerning what genre this novel must reside in.

She pulled the matchbox from her satchel and struck one, she held it horizontally over the dark drawer that went beyond its dimensions. It seemed to stretch downwards and outwards, as far as she could tell, small dust particles were all that reflected back from the deep, black abyss.

It was an "impossible space," she realized! She'd read about these in her studies for Introduction to Astrophysics. From what she recalled, it could be a transdimensional rip in the space-time continuum, or a wormhole, or any number of other things. The match was burning slowly, but was blackened halfway down, she leaned over and dropped it down the hole. The burning match fell out of sight quickly, she remained unsure if it had blown itself out during the fall, or if the portal simply swallowed it up. She briefly thought about sticking her hand down into the drawer, but dashed the thought and closed the drawer.

"Curiouser and curiouser." She said aloud, something her Vulcan Science teacher at school always said - it was a quote from some book she'd never get around to reading, but the cadence of it always pleased her.

She rifled into her satchel and removed the books that lay inside it. The first was a large black tome with a folding lock over the cover. She fiddled with the clasp for a moment, before realizing that it had a strange shaped hole in the cover. It looked like a hole she'd seen on the doorway in the corner. She left the bag and gripped the candelabra and went to examine the closed door in the corner. She squatted in front of it and held the candelabra out. Below the glass knob was a similar hole, with a bulb on top and three walls below. A keyhole! She had heard of these in books. Of course, they were essentially obsolete in the 24th century, and she'd never seen one before, but she immediately recovered that she needed a key. She snapped back towards the desk and set the candelabra down and examined the second book.

This book was brown and gray and worn. She flipped it open to somewhere in the middle and found the pages empty. She flipped back to the front and found no author or title, on the third page there was some writing, but it was in a language she couldn't comprehend. It looked distinctly non-human in origin. Klingon, maybe? The marks were sharp and had wide centers. She shrugged as she tipped it closed and picked up the third book, which she'd retreived from the desk drawer.

It was pretty and dark green. It bore a title in golden ink, "The Truth of the Old Ones." Bo-ring, she thought, as she tossed it back into its drawer and picked the orb up again.

She rolled the orb between her hands, examining every side of it. She corrected herself in thought, it only had the one side. She held the neck that stuck out of it and saw that it had a screw on the end, and a lock at the tip that reminded her of a hyperspanner. The brass fitting looked similar to the one on the doorknob. She set down the orb and took the candelabra back to the door.

She stopped somewhere in between, seeing all the books on the shelves and suddenly realizing, "This is a much bigger story than I have time for tonight..." She continued to the doorway and pushed it open. She straddled it, and noticed that the next room, as she'd expected, was the same as this room. All of the candles around the perimeter of the bookcases had been lit, and the door across the room sat open, with a young girl in shadow, straddling it, much like she was straddling this door.

That's me, she thought. Creepy. This room was another impossible space. Everytime she exited this door, it dropped her back on the other side of the room. She looked behind her to the wall where this door should be, but it was just a bookcase. She turned back and looked around the edge of the door, but she lost her balance, seemingly from nowhere, and tipped beyond it. She didn't see the door on the other side as she fell, just a bookcase. She stood and walked back to the door in the corner of the new room. Her candelabra was gone, she looked back to the bookcase where she'd entered the room, and saw no candelabra. It had somehow disappeared. She checked the dimly lit desk, and found her satchel and the two books, as well as the orb, but no candelabra. She grimaced.

D'Mera straddled the door in the corner again, but didn't dare look beyond it, this time. She fiddled with the handle to see if it matched the orb she had on the desk. Certainly, it did. The neck of the glass doorknob was the same. This knob, however, was faceted and shaped, not round. She pulled on the handle, and jostled it. Surely, she could make it come loose. She turned it counter-clockwise and found it hit a groove. She pulled, it stopped, she turned it counter-clockwise again, but found resistance. She turned it clockwise, then, and found it loosen, she gently pulled the door shut and stepped back into the room, then removed the knob. It had a longer neck than the orb on the desk, and on the end of the neck was a key shaped prong. She checked it against the hole in the door, it did not fit.

She returned to the desk and fiddled with the knob, she found that the key at the end twisted, so she removed it from the knob and set it down. The key might fit the book, she thought, and tried it. Sure enough, the latch on the dark tome unlocked, and she opened it. She flipped to the middle again, as she seemed to do with any book, and found that it was in english. She read aloud, "...and dare not speak their forbidden names... blah blah blah" she smirked. She flipped to the front of the book, more strange words with apostrophes and strange characters in them. She flipped to the back, the same. She left the book open and moved the glass knob and the black orb over the text, comparing the two devices.

As she compared the two necks of the knobs, wondering if the black knob would fit the door, she noticed that the text behind the glass knob had changed. She turned it over in her hand and examined the brass plate pressed into the front of it. Gibberish. She picked at it with her nail, and found that it turned. She rotated the fixture and it suddenly became very heavy, she couldn't help but drop it. The knob landed square on the top of the book, and rolled over, on its own, to rest on the cover of the dusty brown book with the strange letters.

"What the-" she said aloud, as she heard a distant creak again, she turned around and saw nothing. She reached for the knob and tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. In her effort, she nudged the book, and it moved freely, despite the now-heavy knob on top of it. Her eyebrows were all over the place, confused by this activity, as she lifted the cover of the book and the glass knob fell right off it, rolling around to set itself on top of the mysterious text, all on its own.

She jumped back with a gasp. More writing had appeared on the page, and as she reached down, letters and symbols were appearing from nowhere on the page below. She squinted to examine the letters directly below the glass knob, and read aloud...

"The girl entered the room, nary a worry between her ears. The void beyond her extended forever, the ground beneath her feet alive with torment and despair." She stopped reading, and rolled the knob to the newly written text at the bottom of the page. "Rolling the knob to the cryptic text below she read aloud to herself, 'rolling the knob to the cryptic text-'" she stopped and stepped back from the table.

"End program." She spoke, her arms extended at her side, nervous with panic.

Nothing happened. She paced for a moment, and picked at her teeth with her sharp nails, before she lifted the tome and the knob, and the black orb. She carried them towards the doorway together. She read the words as they appeared below the glass knob. "Her feet carried her cautiously to the door, and she-" She pressed the black orb towards the slot where the glass knob had been, as new words appeared on the page. "Her delicate green fingers latched the Doxi'lyeh Orb to the door." The black orb clicked audibly as it set into the door, she removed her hand as the knob slowly turned itself counter-clockwise then inwards then clockwise and latched into place.

She took a squatted step back and continued reading from the words that appeared in the book, she was frightened and sweating now, she couldn't remember being this scared. Why wasn't the computer responding to her?

D'Mera rolled the glass knob over the new words and read them, "Her nose pointed from word to word as she read aloud, the Doxi'lyeh orb spun, and something opened the door from the other side."

She looked up to see the black orb turning, and the door began to creak open.
Last edited by Jack Lucas on Tue Feb 25, 2014 1:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: TAC Ensign D'Mera - USS Hooke

Postby C. J. Short » Mon Feb 24, 2014 5:11 pm

I kind of feel emasculated by the quality of your logs. :allears:
"As long as I have a want, I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death." - George Bernard Shaw, Overruled

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Re: TAC Ensign D'Mera - USS Hooke

Postby Jack Lucas » Mon Feb 24, 2014 5:34 pm

C. J. Short wrote:I kind of feel emasculated by the quality of your logs. :allears:


I feel emasculated by the depth your characters all have already. I feel like I have to catch up and develop D'Mera and Sutak to be on par with all of you!

Also, :cthulhu:
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Re: TAC Ensign D'Mera - USS Hooke

Postby C. J. Short » Mon Feb 24, 2014 6:38 pm

Jack Lucas wrote:I feel emasculated by the depth your characters all have already. I feel like I have to catch up and develop D'Mera and Sutak to be on par with all of you!

Also, :cthulhu:


The Sumners are characters I've been playing for several years; I think I started Henry in 2007. Several others, such as Idrani and Suder, have been developed for over a decade, if I recall correctly.

I think we all wished we'd started out with logs this good :)
"As long as I have a want, I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death." - George Bernard Shaw, Overruled

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