User:Sky Blake/8 year catch-up
Some of these characters and storylines have been around for as long as I have in the fleet. Coming up on eight years, I thought I'd dive into these NPCs of mine so to see what they're up to here and now.
You may recognize some of them, you may recognize none of them. Either way, these characters have propped up my main PCs during my time here in Starbase 118.
Syb & Faith Blake
::There was never a period of time in which it didn't rain in the Ornaran city of Bintac. The windows of the small and confined apartment provided the young child an outlook of which to watch the natural occurrence, though it was nothing new to her.::
::Syb simply rose an eyebrow.::
Syb: Are you well, Ilakai?
::The child didn't turn immediately, but familiar emerald eyes finally met his own with a disappointed expression.::
Faith: I wanted to see the sun today.
Syb: The forecast suggests it will make an appearance tomorrow.
Faith: But not today.
Syb: No, not today.
::The honey-blonde haired child simply huffed, turning her attention back to the window. Her chin rested atop her palm, having decided that she'd wait here just a little longer.::
Rairen Caide & Benjin Ranjoes
Ranjoes: So you’re the one responsible for Commander Blake’s being posted here.
Caide: I’m responsible for all rangers in the Shoals, yes.
::Benjin Ranjoes in her well-fitting vest and slacks was quite surprised to meet a Trill. He was the first one she’d ever encountered, black spots on the Starfleet officer akin to that of multiple birthmarks. It worked well with the man’s stubble and tied-back hair. Lieutenant Rairen Caide could be considered attractive by conventional standards.
::Ranjoes wasn’t fooled by the Trill’s beauty. Evidently, he'd had no intention of "fooling" anyone or anything--and to the man's credit, he'd been clear and direct in explaining what he wanted.::
Ranjoes: When can we expect other rangers?
Caide: Unfortunately, Chief Ranjoes, we’re short-staffed.
Ranjoes: Where’s Blake?
Caide: Aboard her assigned vessel, I imagine. I’ve come to personally oversee the Starfleet search for Lieutenant na-Soldim.
Ranjoes: Oh yeah? You and what crew?
::She had him there. Caide hesitated.::
Caide: Marshal, you must understand. I am not here to seek conflict with you. I want to work with you.
Ranjoes: To find your own officer.
Caide: If the Tholian Assembly has taken him--or worse, killed him--than his family deserve to know. And I intend to seek that truth with the utmost speed.
Brandon Cormac, Elis Nacubaq, & Adalind Sierra
Sierra: You knocked back a spot on the Montreal? What the hell is wrong with you?
Elis: Contrary to popular belief, I actually *enjoy* being on Esperance. I can ship out to home if I ever need to, good communications for the most part, and all of you can do the traveling to come see me.
Sierra: Mighty rich of you, Elis.
Elis: Plus I'm due a promotion in a couple months. I don't want to go back to square one under a command staff I've never met before. As much as I'm sure Captain Mei'konda is great, ::He interjected before Sierra could get a word in.:: I just prefer my "cushy government" job.
Sierra: What, as Star Station Esperance security?
Elis: Liaising with the Colonial Coalition Marshals of this sector, too. Turns out I have a strong relationship with them that my department head wants to utilize to the max.
::All eyes turned to Cormac--the ex-Starfleet officer and only Colonial Coalition Marshal in question, who shuffled awkwardly in his seat and pulled himself a little closer to Elis so that his arms were wrapped around the Bajoran's waist.::
Cormac: I'm not getting involved in this conversation.
Sierra: Oh come on.
::Sierra lined up a shot, throwing the magnetic dart and (unlike before) hitting the board. Cormac murmured something to Elis, the two men having a quiet conversation in which she couldn't make out--no thanks to the crowd in the Esperance bar.::
Sierra: You wanna share with the class?
::Elis pursed his lips, Cormac's chin still seated on his shoulder.::
Elis: We have decided that we're going to seek a civil union.
::Sierra rose her eyebrows.::
Sierra: What? ::frown:: You mean a marriage?
::Elis rolled his eyes. Cormac took a mouthful from his glass.::
Cormac: Oh, he doesn't like that term.
Elis: Or the purpose behind it. Bracelets or rings signifying ownership or claim? I don't like the idea of *possessing* one another.
Sierra: Interesting way of putting it.
Cormac: A little over-dramatic.
Elis:::to Cormac:: You agreed with me!
Cormac: And I still do. ::He smiled reassuringly.:: I am one hundred percent committed to being in a partnership with you.
Sierra: Wait . . . so, what exactly does that mean?
Cormac: It's non-traditionalist Bajoran mumbo-jumbo.
Elis: That allows both of us to maintain our own assets, be our own people-
Cormac: Yet still be committed to each other. Next of kin rights, pretty much.
Sierra: So, a relationship with a legal binding contract.
Cormac: Pretty much.
Elis: And if we happen to part ways . . . it's not messy.
Cormac: It's mainly reassurance for Lieutenant Anxiety over here.
::She clapped her hands together, holding them under her nose as she tried and failed to hide the wide smile. Her words were laced with a giddy glee.::
Sierra: Congratulations! We've all only been waiting four years for this to happen!
::Elis gave an exasperated sigh, much to the amusement of his Terran partner.::
With thanks to Emilia Krugol (Harrier)
Candidate Narala faces questions about crime lord’s sudden acquittal
::The Orion sat at the table with a grace to be expected of a Queen, let alone a woman considered to be little more than a small-time loan shark. The weapons business had not been going well lately.
::Suffice to say, Vivian Voreic was feeling a little naked without her prized bodyguard.::
::Generally she conducted these kinds of meetings in the privacy of one of her own homes or offices, but today, this transaction was occuring in a high-end restaurant, a public domain where she could think of few potential “accidents” occurring. For the good of not only herself, but her business partner, of course.::
Harrier: So… what exactly were you thinking of… obtaining on this fine day?
::And as usual, Voreic was short and to the point.::
Voreic: I’m looking for pieces to a thalaron weapon.
Harrier: ::He scratched his chin.:: And… what will you give me for it? Y’know, we don’t just leave thalaron weapons lying around.
Voreic: I assume you’ll want something with a little more ‘substance’ than latinum?
Harrier: We both can admit that latinum is a little ‘small game’ as we say. We want latinum, of course, it keeps the replicators working and the ship running. But we, I, want more than that, and I know you have more.
::A sigh could be heard as Voreic considered her options. To be brutally honest, she was short on nearly everything. A successful sweep against the illicit weapons business by Starfleet task forces across the quadrant meant that her operation was considerably smaller than what it used to be. She was scrounging just for coin--which no doubt pleased numerous admirals behind desks somewhere.::
Voreic: If you get the pieces I need, I’ll have a fully functioning thalaron weapon.
Harrier: Hmm… tempting, tempting. I can get you the pieces. I know a few… friends. But, that’ll be risky. Ever since Starfleet got involved everything has slowed down. Sure, it took out a few competitors, but… y’know. It’s business. What do you have in return?
Voreic: A down payment of latinum. 50% now, 50% after delivery. And upon the weapon’s completion, and first activation, it’s ownership will be transferred to you.
Harrier: Fifty fifty, but it’s a risky trade. I can’t guarantee that I’ll get you the weapon, nor can I guarantee that you’ll be able to use it. But… a deal’s a deal. Maybe you could sweeten it a little. Think about it, it’ll be hard to find the parts, let alone grab them. I may need a little financial compensation if something were to go pear shaped along the way.
::The Orion stood abruptly, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised as if Harrier had insulted her.::
Voreic: I’ll be in contact with you in a week’s time. If you cannot guarantee that you can procure the items, then there is no deal.
Harrier: Alright, fine. A deal’s a deal anyway. But don’t blame me if your glorified phaser falls apart.
::Somewhere on a desk, aboard a Veritas class starship, sat a data module containing a dangerously forgotten holoprogram.::
Nygeyan Vale-Caeloi & Samual Core
Caeloi: Oh kid, that sounds awesome!
::The young Rodulan boy relaxed his posture, his instrument dropped just a bit from its position on his shoulder.
::His caretaker (his uncle’s best friend), Nygeyan Vale-Caeloi, sat backwards on the couch, a myriad of rings and jewelry decorating sepia-toned skin. Deep midnight blue eyes were wide in amazement at the teens practise.::
Samual: You really think so?
Caeloi: Think so? I believe so! Samual, you’re gonna absolutely own this performance. Buddy, I am so proud of you!
Samual: You’re not just- saying that?
Caeloi: What!? No!
::Nygeyan leapt off the couch, springing over it’s back so to be within comforting distance of the teen. His hand rested on Samual’s shoulder.::
Caeloi: I tell you with absolute certainty, that I, Daneil Nygeyan Vale-Caeloi, truly believe that your improvement on your weird bi-line-violin thing is nothing short of extraordinary.
::Samual gave a wide smile.::
Samual: . . . it’s not a violin-
Caeloi:::dramatically:: One day I will learn it’s proper name. I promise. One day. It will happen.
::The teen laughed, putting the instrument down before slamming himself into Nygeyan’s chest, wrapping his arms tightly around the older man’s torso.::
Samual: Thank you.
::She wasn’t waiting for him. She refused. Every time Tristam said he was going to show up to finally look for the Jalana in the 8.2.1 save state of the MST project holofiles, he ended up late or unable to come at all.::
::Here she was, kicked back in the holodeck on a holographic shuttle, waiting for a Rodulan to show up so she could look for another holographic shuttle. Loupaz had leaned back into her chair, watching some viral extranet video titled “I Wore A Clear Plastic Outfit For The Day” that had her rolling her eyes at the absurdity of plastic as a valid garment.::
::The next thing she knew, the entire shuttle rocked to the left. The computer registered a hull collision.::
::Loupaz pulled herself up from the deck plating, resting on her knees as she peered carefully over the dashboard.::
::There, now floating past the window as if it’d been there all along, was exactly half of the Jalana shuttle that mysteriously disappeared during their first test.::
Loupaz: What the f
Kallo: I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Kallo Ver--the extraordinary-
Falls: I don’t care.
::The third host of the Falls symbiont was literally dragging the similarly-marked Valtese con-man across the grating of DSX.::
Webber: I am in this scene.
::She crosses her arms and pouted.::
Falls: I don’t know who you’re talking to, but hurry up and please get the forcefield down.
Kallo: Don’t get the forcefield down we can talk this out like civilized people.
Webber:::ignores Kallo as she address Nick:: Why is it always something with you?
::He dropped the Valtese man, an exasperated noise falling from his throat as he waved his arms around.::
Falls: What!? What now!?
Webber: Do I even want to know what this is all about? ::She gestured towards the other man in the ground, huddling and ever so slowly inching towards the exit--not that he was fooling anyone.::
Falls:::pointing at Kallo:: This idiot tried conning some poor Betazoid woman for her brooch--something to do with “herbs and spices”.
Kallo: It was a perfectly reasonable trade!
Webber: A trade for what exactly?
Kallo: Brooch, ::he rose one hand:: for Romulan herbs and spices. ::He rose the other, as if weighing the two options.:: Fair trade. Poor follow through on the lady’s part, honestly.
Webber: Uh-huh… Was she led to believe she was getting something else?
Falls: Hold on a minute--out of the two of us, who exactly is the security officer? And- hey.
::Kallo’s shuffling towards the exit across the ground stopped as everyone’s full attention turned to him, Nick pointing at him.::
Webber: Relax. He’s not going anywhere.
::She activated a switch on her PADD, and the doors to the exit opened, except instead of an escape route, Kallo soon saw himself face to face with one of DSX’s cybernetic spiders, acting now as a “guard dog.”::
Kallo: WHAT IS THAT? IS IT GOING TO EAT ME?
Falls:::to Webber:: That’s good thinking, actually.
Webber: ::to Falls:: You know I've got your back.
Jhalen Novu & Whylen
Nar Talone had been easy to infiltrate--shockingly so, actually, for the six of them to slip into the governmental building quietly. Parves and Voma disappeared to the balcony, becoming the small party’s eyes for this little exercise. Sudinan quickly found her way into a computer centre, taking her unhealthy infatuation with her. Within seconds, thanks to a poor level of security and four years worth of planning, the entire building currently sheltering fifty-two government officials from across Brekka was in their total control.
They were a party of six. And they were in control of a government building.
Part of him was bitterly disappointed at how easy this all was.
Aging quickly, and requiring his rebreather to assist with keeping him upright, Jhalen Novu was clad in all-white. A beanie was strategically pulled over his pointed ears, hiding Vulcan heritage that Whylen had first taken issue with when they’d met. His being labelled an outsider meddling in Brekkian affairs would cause them problems right out the gate--so covering, it was.
The man checked his blood oxygen level one last time (in the green, thankfully), before turning to their newest recruit. “Ready?” He asked.
Whylen, the visually unassuming, freckled blonde with their home planet’s name plastered across the sleeve of her faded green jacket simply gave him a nod. Jhalen took this as a ‘good to go’ and proceeded with the plan.
The building was shuttered, with no avenue of escape or rescue available. Unless their military force intended to kill them all, this is where they were all going to stay--at the mercy of this band of rebels.
The officials now locked in the assembly room were greeted to the opening theatrics of one Jhalen Novu as he slammed the doors open, taking long strides towards the guest speaker desk.
“You can’t do this!” One of the leaders called. “We’re protected by the treaty of Alben Noree!” Another exclaimed. He had to resist rolling his eyes.
Jhalen took a seat, Whylen choosing to remain standing (which probably helped his image, not that he thought about it, having someone who looked akin to a bodyguard nearby, even if she was stick-like and looked about as non-threatening as he did), and the vulcanoid man pulled the oxygen breather away from his mouth. “My name is Jhalen Novu,” He stated loudly and clearly. “My purpose here is simple. All those assembled in this room will cooperatively sign a partial unification document.”
The response from the room was a mixture of scoffs and atrocious gasps when he raised the document for them all to see. So he reiterated an important fact. “No one leaves this room until we have accomplished a total signing of everyone here. So get comfortable,” He sat back in his chair. “We’re going to be here a while.”