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Star Trek: Season 9

Started by Geekyfanboy, February 14, 2009, 08:29:14 PM

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"Captains Log"

"It's been three weeks since my abduction into the mirror universe. The Arabella took heavy damage from the battle with the Borg and is currently docked at Starbase 416 for repairs. They tell me we could be here for a few months. I gave the crew a much-needed shore leave.  We are near the Ogus system and I heard Ogus II is completely covered in forests. I might try and convince Nic to visit them with me.

Dr. Peterson has worked his magic along with the staff at Starbase 416. They managed to save 90% of the crew that had been assimilated. But sadly we still lost 57 crewmen. I placed commendations for bravery in their Starfleet records.

I still haven't heard from my first officer. All I can do is wait and hope she returns to us quickly and safely.

I have temporally promoted Lieutenant Commander Aeric James as my first officer and Lieutenant Daniel Tucker to third in command. Both men will serve me well in these positions.

It is almost 0500 and I am due in The Afterburner for a promotion ceremony. "

"Computer End Log"


Aeric softly kissed the foreheads of M'Rynn and Elizabeth, who both lay asleep in the bedroom that they shared in his quarters. The children rested peacefully as a result of the picnic adventure that the Lieutenant had taken the kids on the day before. Aeric had hardly made it through the beginning of their bedtime story before both had drifted off.

Rory watched her father from her position leaning in the doorway. It was hard to believe that he was the same man barely a month ago. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders right before Sevryll and Aria left with Sairyn and she could not help but notice it.

"What time is it?," Aeric asked in quiet words that hardly registered over a whisper.

"It's 0413." Rory replied with a smile. "You've been watching them all night. Just as you did the night before."

Aeric nodded. It wasn't the first time he missed sleeping while caring for the girls. He didn't even bother to explain his reasoning to his holographic daughter again. He needed little sleep and he wanted to be there if either girl woke in the night. For a three year old, Elizabeth had sleeping habits as bad as her adopted father and M'Rynn had too many reason for nightmares to haunt her dreams. Her mother and her brother were not on the ship and being a twin, it was rare for her to ever be without one of them.

"How are you holding up father?" Rory asked with genuine concern as they exited the room.

"My daughters are in another universe with their mother searching for N'Vall and we don't know when they are coming back. M'Rynn misses them." Aeric replied in what vaguely passed as an even tone.

"You miss them as well."

"Beyond words, but we have other things to deal with." Aeric said with a sad smile.

"I already have a full day planned out for the girls since you have the promotion ceremony and your shift taking up most of yours." Rory said in an attempt to steer the conversation to a better subject. Both father and daughter knew where the conversation would head if it stayed on it's previous heading. Rory wanted him to speak with the councilor and he somehow could never find the time.

"Thank you Rory, I know how babysitting duty has been taking up a lot of your time. In a few days, Dennis will have his mobility back and then we can split the time a little more."

"By splitting the time, you mean giving me a larger break while your time with the girls stays roughly every second that you aren't on duty." Rory grinned. She knew that Aeric would not allow himself to worry or be upset when he was with the girls. It wasn't the help that she wanted him to get, but it was helping.

"I need to change and get to the ceremony," he answered. There was really no need to state the obvious. Aeric needed the girls as much as they needed him in the last few weeks.

"After your shift ends, you should have time to see Councilor Margon, I've even made you an appointment. Dennis and I will be taking the children on a holo-adventure and then we're going to come back and make some sort of messy and chocolate intense snack with them. You won't need to rush home."

Aeric forced a smile. "Thanks for looking out for me."

"Someone needs to father since you are dead set on ignoring how you feel about them leaving."

Aeric had nothing left to add to the conversation and simply nodded. He headed in the direction of his room for a quick shower and a change of uniform. 


Joseph looked in the mirror. His hair kept falling into his vision and no matter how many times he drew his hand over the strands it kept falling down. Getting slightly irritated by the fact that he had been doing this action for twenty minutes he decided to use some gel. Putting a small amount into his palm he rubbed it in and then slicked it onto his fringe and drew his fingers back through his hair. He looked at himself for a moment and smiled.

"That's better"

Turning round he bent down and picked up his book and put it on the table in front of the mirror, looking back up at his image he smiled again but his eyes slowly drew up to see his hair gradually drop down again into his vision.

"Oh for..... fine"

Shaking his head he let it fall into a natural state. Strangely this worked and it parted slightly to the right and hung well.

"Well it will have to do"

Joseph pulled his tunic down and he made sure his uniform looked a lot more presentable than his hair. Looking around his room Joseph felt content and happy. He felt at home aboard this ship and he felt he had a good family bond with his colleagues.

"Well, time to get going"

Before he left he picked up his cricket bat and did a few practise strokes, he aimed to beat K'Tan when they left the ship. Swinging his bat he imagined cracking a brilliant shot over the Oval and raising his bat to the audience applause.

"Got to love the game"

Placing his bat on his chair he smiled again and left his quarters for the ceremony.


Dr. Peterson sat in his office, for a few minutes, it was the first time he had had to sit down since the last mission. This mission had taken its toll on him physically and it showed as a few white hairs were visible around his sideburns and the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep were quite visible.

He had a haggard look that seemed to foster his inner strength as well as the respect of his staff and fellow crewmates. After the deborgification at Starbase 413, it was evident there were few doctors who were more dedicated to their patients.

He was truly exhausted. He hated to lose crew members and he took it personally. It was the one part of the job he hated and he never got use to it. "Perhaps," he thought to himself, "This dedication to my patients and great respect for all life and the preservation of it, is what has made me a capable physician, but the loss of 57 crew members truly bothered him.

He looked up from his desk in time to see Myella walk in with a smile on her face " Hon it is almost time to go." " Thanks dear he replied", as he tugged on his Dress uniform and pulled it down.

"You look rather dashing in your dress blues dear" , Myella Replied, as she straightened his purple heart.

"You don't look so bad yourself, my dear" Dr. Peterson replied as he took her arm in his and they headed out of sickbay to the Afterburner for the Promotion Ceremony.


Joint Post between Jen and Moyer777

She drew her arms over her chest in a subconscious display of social withdrawal. In response, the Bolian seated across from her presented the Trill with a friendly smile. He and the good doctor had been meeting everyday for three weeks. She had come a long way, but Ryla was far from the effervescent woman that he knew prior to the Borg attack. Despite her posture, she attempted to return his smile.

The counselor drew a breath to speak, but his patient surprised him by beginning their dialog. Her tone was gentle but tired, "you're going to ask me how I feel today and I'm going inform you that I don't feel anything. You'll play a soothing musical number in an attempt to relax me, which will help a little. You'll activate the therapeutic holoprogram and then I'll be confronted with..." her voice trailed off as she thought of the last time she had physically been in the Afterburner. The Trill had entered the Arabella's lounge many times in her nightmares and in Margon's holo-sessions, but she hadn't actually stepped foot in that place since the day she died.  Ryla's light brown eyes were directed at the floor a moment, as she mustered the courage to admit failure and suggest that they end the pointless session.

She opened her arms and moved them to her sides to grip the seat of her chair, " I appreciate your diligence, Margon. You're a good man and a talented counselor, but this isn't working.  I just have to accept the fact that I'm never going to be Ryla Drett again. That part of me did not come back...it's still dead." The word 'dead' rolled from her lips impassively.  "And this..." she waved her hands about her, "this is all a futile attempt to resurrect it."

He paused a moment as he carefully considered a response. "Perhaps," the counselor said in a comforting tone, "we're going about this the wrong way.  May I suggest we plan a memorial for Drett, instead?"

Ryla moved her gaze from the carpeted floor to meet Margon's eyes— a quizzical look washed over her face.

"There comes a point when you have to stop living in the past.  I know that joined Trills aren't used to that, but you are right...  Drett is dead. Perhaps we need to bury that individual and get on with Ryla."

The petite woman regarded Margon in stunned silence. She wasn't sure whether he was being sarcastic or serious...no...he wasn't joking. She had never considered a memorial. Her people did not survive their symbiont's. Memorials were more common among deceased hosts.

Would a funeral solve her problem? She felt cold. Did that missing spark belong to Drett or to Ryla?  Who is Ryla?  She had convinced herself that the bold, sparkling portion of their joined persona had belonged to Drett—but that wasn't true.  When the two were united, they each brought something unique to the table. She had added the vibrant, charismatic traits to the rich tapestry of Drett's history, and the symbiont had given her the wisdom that she would have otherwise lacked. She shook her head slowly. The counselor was right, if she was going to get on with her life, she would have to do this.

Margon placed his hand on Ryla's shoulder.  "You're a courageous woman. I know you can do it," he said reassuringly.  "And if you need my help in putting a memorial together, you know where to find me.  In the mean time,  consider adjusting to your new life by making physical changes. Maybe you could try a new hair style, or rearranged your quarters..."

She interrupted him, " or change my name?"

He frowned slightly and considered the question a moment, then nodded slowly. "If you think that will help you to move on, but would it not honor the symbiont if you kept it? It's something to think about. Maybe you should ask your friends. How long has it been since you've spoken to them? Spring asks about you every time we've crossed paths."

"I couldn't face Mackie. She's too happy."

Margon chuckled, "I think being around chirpy people is exactly what you need. Maybe she could accompany you to the lounge. It might be good to take a Fertillian with you when you go. We're celebrating Dunn and D'Callan's promotions in the Afterburner this evening...maybe you should attend....doctor's orders."

"I need to think about it all," she was tearing up now, "especially the memorial. Finality can be so... well... final." She smiled weakly as she stood up.  "If it's okay, I think I'm going to go home now."

"Of course" replied Margon, "I know this isn't traditional, but..."  The counselor bent down and lightly embraced the petite Trill with a friendly hug.

Ryla didn't know how to react.  On one hand she wanted to fall into his arms sobbing—she needed a father at that moment.  On the other hand, she wanted to push him away for invading her personal space.  So many emotions were competing for dominance within her.

Ryla decided to compromise and patted Margon on the back. "Thank you," she whispered then turned and quickly made her way to the door.

Margon followed her to the exit and watched her stride down the corridor to the lift.  He knew it wasn't going to be an easy task, but he was certain that Ryla's tenacity would see her through.
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


Lester sat crossed legged on the floor of his quarters, arms outstretched in front of him.

He had just completed a double shift in engineering and was feeling the worse for it. Attempting to meditate, Lester found his mind wandering to thoughts concerning his new assignment and became too distracted to perform the practice.

Getting up, he made his way to the seat at his desk, sighing to himself.

"Computer, new personal log entry."

The computer chirped in acknowledgement.

"Begin recording."

"Personal log, Ensign Lester Garriss."

"It has been two weeks now since my transfer to the Arabella and the repairs in engineering are progressing satisfactorily.
I was hoping to meditate for a while before catching up on some sleep but I have been informed that my presence is required at a promotion ceremony in two hours. No, strictly that is not correct. It was 'suggested' that I attend by a superior so that I can familiarize myself with the crew. In truth I am not looking forward to the experience and the thought of 'mingling' is quite disconcerting. Nevertheless it is the correct thing to do in this case.

Perhaps I will attempt to meditate on my return."

"End recording and save."


Ensign Christopher Dunn sat on the edge of his bed. The constricting collar of his dress uniform made it hard to breathe while sitting down. He looked around at his small cabin. A picture of his father and step mother sat on his dresser while a picture of his mother stood by his bed. They were back on Earth, his father still living in the same town that Christopher had been raised in, his mother had long moved away to a sunnier climate. Christopher was so like her in many ways; athletic, driven, independent. They were the qualities that had helped him most during his time at Starfleet Academy.....and the past months on the Arabella.

He glanced down at his hand which shook slightly recalled the past mission. He wondered if it would eventually go away...or perhaps it should not. Perhaps it would serve as a reminder as to who precious life is and how he would fight to defend the lives of those he loved. Those at home on Earth and those of his crewmates.
He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. Mom would be proud.


Leaning against the blank wall next to the sickbay door Reese proceeded to shuffle his hands in a tense manner. He could seem to hold still. He watched as the repair crews hurried down the halls to do their jobs. Reese had been feeling a little bored since docking. There really wasn't much for a science officer to do in the current situation. He couldn't concentrate on anything anyway. No matter what he tried to do, wether it be sword play, cards, holodeck, he could stop thinking about her.

"Rosemarie Myers," he whispered to himself. She was the reason he stood there outside sickbay. He didn't want to go in. He felt like if he did he'd come off too impulsive, but he still wanted her to know he cared.

The sickbay doors opened. Reese jumped to alertness as Rose stumbled out with a shiny metal cane in her hand and the left leg of her uniform cut off several inches above the knee.

"Glad to see you up on your feet, again." Reese said looking at her bare leg, now freed from its Borg encasing. Bits and pieces still remained visible, but it was far more flesh now, then it was when she had entered sickbay nearly an hour ago.

She stopped walking and place her Borg hand on the cane to free her left hand.

"Hi, Reese" She replied swiping her hair from in front of her eye, with her free hand she tucked it behind her ear, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just came by to see how you're doing."

"Better now. It's still a little hard to walk. There's still implants running through it, but now I don't feel so lopsided, one leg no longer encased in Borg engineering. Doctor said it'll just need use, and time."

"Look's plenty better." Reese replied smiling in attempt to get a smile out of her lips. She lowered her head sorrowfully. Reese looked into her one eye as she stared intently at the floor, a blank expression on her face. "So, you planning on going to the Afterburner for the ceremony?"

"Huh," She looked up, "Yes, I intended on going."

"Great, I'll walk you there."

"First you can walk me to my quarters. I'd like to change into something that isn't so revealing."

Reese put his arm around her shoulder, taking on her weight, and they proceeded down the corridor.


The buzzing of the alarm clock yanked K'Tan awake. He quickly sat up; his head spinning slightly as he glanced around the room.  Taking in the pastel tapestries and subdued paintings decorating the walls, and the floral arrangement dominating the nearby workstation, he felt a momentary sense of disorientation.  Swinging his legs out of bed, he accidentally kicked over a bottle resting on the floor; the sharp, citric smell of vodka assaulted his nostrils as the bottle spun away. 

K'Tan rested his throbbing head in his hands, trying desperately to still the spinning of the room.

Where am I, and how much did I drink?

A soft, warm hand landed on his naked thigh, simultaneously kicking his heartbeat into high gear and banishing the cobwebs clouding his memory.

"Leaving so soon?" a sultry voice purred.

K'Tan glanced back at the smiling face of Lt. Applegate. She grasped his arm, and playfully tugged him back towards the bed. 

The Chief Tactical Officer stood and grabbed his rumpled uniform from a nearby chair. 

"I'm sorry; I have to prepare for the awards ceremony," he replied.  "Two worthy crewmen are being promoted today; it would be dishonorable for me to miss the event."

After pulling on his pants and uniform tunic, K'Tan sat back down to fasten his shoes.  He turned to offer his companion a sheepish grin.  "If you like, I guess you could join me there... Perhaps we could get some dinner afterwards?"

Applegate answered with a chuckle of disdain, and settled back into the bed.  "No thanks; I'm not a big fan of ceremonies.  Bore-ing."  She yawned, and snuggled into the covers.  "And me and some friends are playing dom-jot after our shift, so I'll have to take a rain-check on dinner."

"Perhaps tomorrow then?" K'Tan asked.

She pulled the covers down, exposing only her eyes.  "I don't know.  We'll see." 

K'Tan silently rolled his eyes, then started to get up.

Applegate sat up, and placed a restraining hand on K'Tan's shoulder.  "Look, last night was fun and all, but that's all that it was: Fun." 

She leaned her head on his shoulder, and offered a consoling smile.  "I know that you think of yourself as a Klingon, but you don't have to take the name so litterally, guy.  Don't get all 'Klingy' on me.  I'm not looking for a relationship."

Desperately trying to stifle a sigh of relief, K'Tan stood and headed to the door.  "Well... I guess I'll see you around, then." 

As the door whispered shut behind him, K'Tan walked briskly towards his quarters.  A nagging sense of guilt nibbled relentlessly at his conscience, and as they had for the past three weeks, his thoughts drifted to the resurrected Dr. Drett. 

As always, those thoughts were flavored by a sense of shame. 

Shame for his inability to deal with the doctor's death and resurrection. 

Each of his visits with the Trill since her rebirth had felt forced and awkward. His clumsy attempts at consoling her had felt inadequate, to say the least. K'Tan found himself at a loss on how to approach her.  Was she the same person he had felt drawn to before the death of her symbiont? 

The door to his quarters hushed open at his approach, and he quickly ducked inside. 

Just enough time for a shower and a change of clothes, he thought.   

Somehow though, he doubted that there was a shower strong enough to wash away his sense of shame.


The door slid open and Susan removed the surgical scanners and she placed them back in their rightfull place. She smiled and then asked the computer for the time for the fifth time, realising that she still had a little longer to wait until the ceremony started she took the scanners back out and recleaned them.

"G'Day Susan"

Susan spun round with a little jump and looked at the figure in the doorway.

"I would have knocked but these doors are just a tadge too quick"

Joseph D'Callan cocked his head to one side, his hair flopped into his vision and this made Susan laugh.

"You still cant get that fringe right can you"

She walked over to D'Callan and gently stroked the wayward strands back over his forehead and looked into his eyes. They gazed at each other for a few seconds before Joseph broke the connection.

"Not sure about this outfit"

Susan ran her hand down his tunic and smiled at him.

"Nothing wrong with a dress uniform Joe, it makes you look a bit less like a bush tucker man"

"Best watch those words young Sheila or you'll be having Witchetty Grubs for the after ceremony meal"

He winked at her and offered his hand towards the open glass door. Susan nodded curtly and passed him with a return wink.


Joint post by Institches and Jen

Ryla stared in wistful contemplation at the woman in the mirror. She stared back with the same pensive look glinting in her eyes and sighed as she smoothed the jacket of her dress uniform. The Trill decided to attend the promotion ceremony in the Afterburner, despite her fear of the lounge and what happened there only a few weeks prior. Luckily, Mackie would be going with her. The Fertillian's ability to chemically effect the mood of others would be helpful...that, and Ryla had missed her friend. 

Mackie glanced at the mirror and grimaced. The light from the chronometer was glaring off her bald pate. She had gotten used to the blue hair from the previous mission, but when the ears and indigo skin went, the cotton-candy hair looked out-of place. So back to usual. She read the chronometer and realized she was running late. Better hurry. She slapped on the blond wig and adjusted it as she scooted out the door.

She arrived at Ryla's quarters right on time, living up to her reputation for promptness, if not tidiness. As soon as Ryla opened the door, she reached out and straightened Mackie's hair, arranging it to cover the missing ears that were a native Fertillian trait, but that Mackie seemed so self-conscious about.

Ryla offered a genuine smile to the Fertillian, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Mackie attempted to return her smile, but her expression wobbled and a tear rolled down her cheek. A faint smell of Vulcan redspice and icesalt escaped from her. She touched the place on Ryla's abdomen that was now empty. "It's so quiet."

Ryla covered her hand and the women shared a look of loss, then Ryla's eyebrows drew down. "You know, you're the only one, including me, who saw us as separate, who communicated to each of us. Do you think you could do that with children in the womb?"

"I... yes, after a certain point in development. I think so." She paused and rubbed her gill slits. There was no adult-infant interaction on her planet, but she had been around gestating females of many species since she first arrived on Earth. "No, I'm sure I can. So what?"

Ryla's mind started clicking as she threw herself into her work. "That's my specialty, Mackie. Obstetrics. If you can 'talk' to the baby, we'd know so much more than even holo-imaging can give us."

Mackie was flabbergasted, a smell of over-ripe thorn-flower fruit surrounding her now. "Are you saying I can help you in sick-bay?"

"Yes." Ryla tried to smile again, but it didn't come as easily as it had when she first saw Ensign Farmer in her lopsided wig. She had been avoiding the Fertillian for weeks, believing that her friend's cheerfulness would be too much to endure. Ryla had no idea that Mackie was so grief-stricken. The loss of Drett had been the Trill's private sorrow and she had selfishly blocked everyone she knew from sharing it with her. Ryla wasn't use to seeing the young ensign so upset...she wanted to hug Mackie, but instead the physician shifted into 'professional mode' and opted to recruit the botanist for the Obstetrics department. She felt ashamed. Why couldn't she just say what was on her mind. She bit her bottom lip and met Mackie's eyes, "I'm sorry I..." A couple rounded the corner in the corridor and noticed the formerly deceased Trill. They whispered something as they approached. Ryla looked away as they passed her open doorway.

Mackie drew a breath and scented the eloquent conflicting emotions in Ryla. Her anger at being alive and alone, her grief for the loss of her other half, her shame for... so many things. It was a bitter scent, Vulcan incense mixed with Earth almonds. She nodded at her friend and realized that she was happy just to be in her presence again. She blew out an ameliorating scent of molasses. "We need to go."

A pleasant warmth washed over Ryla and she knew instantly what Mackie had done. "Thank you," she said as they moved down the corridor.

The Trill experienced an involuntary shiver as they approached the double doors of the lounge. Ryla paused just outside and gazed up at the holographic sign that bore the blazing letters of "The Afterburner".  Memories and images burned through her mind like a wildfire before being extinguished by the light apple scent of New Dawn roses. She exhaled slowly, expelling the air she had been holding hostage. "...I'm okay now. I can do this..." She stepped forward and the doors obediently parted.

Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


The faint purring sound drifted through the air as the crackling fire added warmth to the room.  The large comfortable couch was surrounded with brown root beer bottles and tissues strewn about.  The  blue man was wrapped in soft blanket starring at the fire. 

One of his eyes welled up with tears and a small drop cascaded down his cheek.  His other eye was of course, artificial.  The Borg had stolen his sight on one side.  Even though technology made his new eye even better than that last, it wasn't the same.  It was a constant reminder of the violent actions of the cybernetic race.  He had counseled many through hard times before, but all he could describe assimilation as was "rape"  plain and simple.  It was horrifying to say the least.  Your very soul and essence being stolen and conformed to the collective was something no one should ever experience.

The counselor sat petting Mr. Mouse.  It brought him much comfort.  Such a simple creature.  You feed it, give it some water and scratch it's ears and you have a friend for life, well at least on their terms.  And this creature didn't have to be counseled.  Some catnip and an occasional mouse toy did the trick with his pet. 

Margon's work load had increased so much in the last few weeks that he was simply trying to catch his breath.  He wiped the tear from his eye.

"Who counsels the counselor?"  he thought. 

This is what he had been trained for, but admittedly the pressure was on.  Starfleet had considered sending another counselor to the ship for relief, but at this point he hadn't seen anyone. 

He rubbed the cat's ears and started to stand up.  Mr. Mouse jumped off of his lap and pranced off to his corner to get something to eat.  Margon picked up some of the bottles and placed them in the reclimator.  "Computer, cancel fireplace, open closet."  His holoquarters complied and the fireplace disappeared. The panel opened revealing the counselors clothes hung neatly in the closet.   "Ok, time for my dress uniform, be glad you don't wear clothes my feline friend."  Mr. Mouse looked up at him and squinted.

Margon would see his crew mates tonight, and many of them were now his clients.  Of course, he would encourage them and smile, but a profound sadness possessed the counselor.  It would be good for him to get out to the afterburner.  It always helped him to be at a celebration.  He was hoping to see J'dan, the host of the Afterburner, tonight and catch up on what was going on with him.  Margon had been so busy they hadn't talked lately.

I have been and always will be, your friend.
Listen to our podcast each week http://www.takehimwithyou.com


Ryla slowly scanned the room— the atmosphere within the lounge was lively and warm. Several officers, sporting their dress whites, were milling about, sipping drinks and sampling colorful appetizers.  Her eyes passed over each individual, before coming to rest on the proprietor of the Afterburner. J'Dan was laughing at the joke that Cyra Frederick told a captivated group of men. "Now Fred...you can't be delivering that brand of punch line in my bar.  I have standards to uphold," he said half-heartedly to the beautiful Orion singer.

Ryla's mind conjured the dim memory of J'Dan Marley. A ghost pain stabbed at her midsection, causing her to wince... The Bajoran had been the one to carry her from the lounge after Talon Bowers seared a hole through her.

Eventually, J'Dan felt her eyes on him and turned his gaze in her direction. His bright smile quickly fell. It seemed like a decade passed before it reappeared. He excused himself from the group and made his way to the entrance, to welcome the two women standing just inside the doorway.

Ryla felt the warmth of several Merlots numb her raw nerves—Mackie was working over time. The smile she mustered for J'Dan pushed dimples into flushed cheeks. 

"Hello J'Dan...long time no see." Ryla said with a little more volume than she intended.
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


Clothed in his dress uniform, Aeric James made his way into the lounge with a brilliant smile on his face. With his hormones no longer being regulated by his systems, his emotions had returned to the fore. The lust for life and adventure had quickly returned to him and the joys in these moments were just as powerful as the emotional chaos that troubled his thoughts. Aeric glanced around the room at the familiar faces gathered there.

The acting XO paused when his eyes fell on Ryla. Part of him new the pain of losing someone so close to you, but he couldn't find the words to offer comfort. At some point in the future he would need to speak to her, but now was most assuredly not that time.


Joint post by moyer777 and Jen

"Ms Drett, er um Ryla, hello!" J'Dan said nervously.  He wasn't sure how to address her now.  For a moment it was awkward until he moved closer.  "I am grateful to see you," he quietly said, visibly in her comfort zone. "How are you?"

Ryla bit her lip looked him in the eye.  "I'm surviving J'Dan, as good as could be expected.  Thank you for asking."

He tried to make conversation, but it was failing quickly.  What he really wanted to say was that he was sorry for her loss, but he had never looked at a resurrected person before.  He finally choked it out..
"Ryla, I'm so sorry for your...

She interrupted, "No need Mr. J'Dan- thank you, but it is a new day.  It is I that should thank you for your bravery and help."

J'Dan smiled and touched her arm.  "Can I get you anything Ryla?"

She subconsciously pulled it away and tried to smile, "a vinti Raktijino...my friend here is making me feel tipsy, and I need to sober up." She had fallen back on humor in order to make him comfortable. "I'm not sure it will help, but I'm willing to give it a shot."

I have been and always will be, your friend.
Listen to our podcast each week http://www.takehimwithyou.com