ten_fwd | Entries tagged with general chang

Classes for adults and children are now being held every day on Deck 14. The weekly schedule for March's syllabus is posted below. [Classes are OTA unless otherwise specified.]

[[Note: due to AC drops, some classes may no longer have a PC teacher. We have chosen to leave the ones with students still signed up on the post for now, so if any of the students in a class with "NPC" marked as the instructor wants to make the top-level entry for the class, feel free to do so.]]

[example of a youth class]

( Schedule & Listing )

[[ooc: Please note, the School is currently a once-a-month post; all times listed are for IC purposes. Teachers will post in with a comment for their class, and students can then tag in to thread at any stage for classes held at any point in the month. Posting in is not compulsory; you are welcome to handwave attendance.

To sign up to teach, or to add your character as a regular student of a class, there will be a new post coming soon, the link will be edited in here and announced on the ooc comm. The next School post will be on April 4th.]]

professorsong

"All the time we've been together, you knew I was coming here," she had said. She was right - about the library. But she was wrong, so wrong, about the Enterprise. Call it a joke of Q's. She wasn't in a laughing mood.

Professor River Song had done what she had to do. Perhaps somewhere in her mind she had always wondered if she would really do what needed to be done when it came down to it. throw herself in the way of a projectile to save him, yes. But when there was thought? When there was time for thought? She offered to give herself to save him, but hadn't she known, hadn't she always known that he wouldn't let her? That he would use the danger to her to do what he wouldn't when he had been the one at risk? She knew the Doctor. She loved the Doctor. Every form she had ever met, and the ones she only knew of as stories. She knew that to save everyone, he would give his life. Some days she didn't half wonder if he wanted to die. She didn't think she could ever love him enough to let him.

But when it was someone else taking the risk, then... ah then he would see another way clear. Another way out. Then he would come up with an impossible plan and pull it off. He did so hate to lose. So, somewhere back in the depths of her mind she wondered if she would ever have the courage not to say she was going to step between him and danger, and not to do it on instinct and emotion, but to stare death in the face and give herself to it to save him.

And now she knew. This time there was no hope for a crazy last minute plan. She knew that. And she knew he knew it. Because her journal was full. Because there was no time for another plan. For the two of them who treated space and time like a giant play yard... No. For her. For her there was no time left. So she did what she had to. She didn't say she was going to take his place, she didn't give him the chance to argue. She knocked him out, handcuffed him, and took his place. River Song worked at the controls.

But he came to too soon. He started to speak, and that... That was what he was best at. Speaking. And it was when he was speaking that he could do anything, save anyone. But not this time. She wouldn't let him, because the alternative was that he would die. And she would not let him. So she spoke. She took his death from him, and she took his trick. In the end, she learned from the Doctor in the most important ways.

The words were still on her lips. Her last words. They were meant to be her last words. "Hush now, spoilers," she had said, she still tasted the words. She closed the connection as the timer ticked down. There would be no more running. And no chance for him to stop her, to take her place. Tears fell from her eyes as the world went white.

Energy filled her, used her, passed through her. She wouldn't scream. She refused. She wouldn't do that to him. Spoilers. Her last word, the last he would hear. He carried too much pain, he hated goodbyes. But she could give him this.

But when the white faded, she wasn't dead. She felt like she should be. She wasn't in the library. She was in a hallway in a space ship she didn't know. And she was alone. No Doctor. She hadn't done it. Or rather... he had. He had saved her somehow. And he could be dead himself for it. But the pain. Oh... the pain.

She was no longer wired into the chair. She was in her space suit, hands wrapped around her journal and her sonic. She had other things with her as well, but with the pain this was all she could feel. A worn leather journal. A Sonic screwdriver. And pain.

and_she_waited

On Valentine's Day, one can enter a lounge on a spaceship docked outside a beautiful blue jewel of a planet (which can clearly be seen out the windows), and see that it's been made over with candles and linen tablecloths and red rose centrepieces. It's not anything as grand as Q would do. Amy is using the romance of the room: the windows looking out on Pacifica, soft lighting, and like last year she's even managed to find a trio to play music in one corner of the room: flute, cello, and violin.

Walking in, there's a sign:

♥ BLIND DATING TONIGHT, 19:00* ♥
Party to follow at 23:00*!

A ginger beauty in a red dress is standing by with a sheet of those name tags you stick on your shirt that say HELLO MY NAME IS ______ and a clipboard of seat assignments. Not all the tables are taken (the woman in charge, Guinan, insisted the room stay open for other patrons), so those meant for the blind dates have numbers tucked in the centrepieces. Amy's taken mostly tables around the outside of the room, where there is the best view of space and a little privacy.

Table 1 - Luna Lovegood & Noriko Ashida
Table 2 - Ed & Alex Rogan
Table 3 - Kale McCallum & The (10th) Doctor
Table 4 - Trever McCallum & Ishka
Table 5 - Olan'atar & T'Pol
Table 6 - General Chang & Aeryn Sun
Table 7 - Marion Scotts & Thor Odinson
Table 8 - The (12th) Doctor & Aidan Nichols
Table 9 - Islington & Merlin
Table 10 - Deanna Troi & DJ
Table 11 - Kristen Kringle & Booker DeWitt
Table 12 - Jacqueline "Jackal" Egret & Dimo
Table 13 - Bob Fraser & Cridhe
Table 14 - Grainne O'Brian & Harry Dresden
Table 15 - Thea Queen & Kitt

If your name is on her list, you'll get a name tag and a little card with your table number on it. "Here you go. The bar's open while you wait, I bribed Guinan t' have out the real stuff, so you can tell her I sent you. No gettin' carried away, though. And no funny business, you treat your date with respect or I'll have you by the ear before night's out. I'll be 'round if you need anything."

Once everyone's been checked off her list, she's going to settle at the bar and have a drink. Match-making's hard business, but each time she does it she gets a little sense of satisfaction. Once the dates are over for the evening, she's looking forward to kicking off her heels and turning this place into a dance party.

* That's 7PM and 11PM respectively!

> Going Stag top-level!
> Open Tables (OTA) top-level!
> Galentine's Day DANCE PARTY OTA top-level!
> The OOC Sign-Ups/Announcement

Current Mood: proud
Current Location: Deck 10, Forward: Lounge

superiorcat

As a rule of thumb, Charlemagne Bolivar considered a diplomatic party a bust if he didn't get to poison at least one enemy and execute another for the deed. Reasonable Nietzschean that he was, he did not, strictly speaking, hold it against others when they stood by similar principles. He was all for a live-and-let-die universe, as long as he came out on top in the end.

That said, a shoot-out with an assassin just wasn't the same if the assassin refused to die.

One moment he stood in a corridor of the Andromda Ascendant, counting down the shots till he would have to switch to knives and bone blades, in the next there was a flash of light...

...and he was pointing his Gauss gun at a fancy blue bottle on a bar counter. Incidentally, this place looked nothing like anything he had seen on the Andromeda, though one glance at the window told him he was still in space.

He froze, thoroughly ruffled but clinging to his politician's pokerface even under impossible circumstances. The only sign betraying his agitation was the slight flaring of the three bone protrusions on his forearms. They were not quite standing up ready to be used in combat, but there was the faintest quiver to them as he fought with the instinct to flare them out and bury them in the throat of the first person to approach.

"Well," he said, his tone of voice jovial, smile bright, "this is the first time I've been kidnapped to a bar!"

trial_never_ends

Hmmm, something seems a little different about the Chief of Security today. His beautifully ridged countenance hasn't been seen for quite some time at the head of one of these little initiations, but now that Dr. Crusher's medical team has cleared a sizable number of new cattle for ship-wide access, and they've been carted around by Chief O'Brien on a tour of the ship, along with some background to the situation they now find themselves in, they've been mooooved right along to Lieutenant Worf in Ten Forward.

He looks at his data PADD, with all of his boring instructions and tedious details meticulously written out, and rolls his eyes. Rules, really? What harm could these people really do?

"The computer will instruct you on where all cleared-for-access decks are. You only have to ask where the area you are trying to get to is located, and it will give you clear directions. Do not visit any restricted areas. The bridge, engine rooms, transporter rooms, command centers, blah, blah-blah, blah blah, are all off-limits.

"Before you're assigned a room, there are a few rules you must obey, though I honestly don't know what could be done to stop you. One, do not discharge any weapon while on the Enterprise. Two, do not assault any other passenger aboard in any way; that includes injury, death, or violating their personal rights. Three, do not tamper with the operational procedures of the ship. Four, do not steal items or technology from the ship. Five, do not interrupt any official areas of the ship without proper authorization, and do not invade the privacy of other guest or crew quarters, good grief, this list just goes on forever, doesn't it?

"They want you to read the Prime Directive?! Boring. If you care to see that drivel you can look it up on your own personal PADDs, which will be available in every room. Now, how about something more interesting?"

With a flick of his wrist, the PADD disappears. Cracking his knuckles, "Worf" proceeds to snap his fingers and a flurry of snow whooshes through the room. When the proverbial dust settles, Ten Forward has been decked out in an array of holiday cheer. The windows are frosted, the bar is dusted in snow, a model train choo-choos its way around people's ankles out one door and back in the other. There is a traditional Earth tree in one corner with an endless pile of gifts stacked under it, but other worlds, cultures, and religions have not been left out. Everywhere one looks, there's a different kind of festive decoration.

"La, dee dum, dum," Worf hums, snapping his fingers again and causing a spread of food and drinks to appear on each and every table and surface: candies, cakes, mulled wines, chocolates, pheasants, yams, bol'ghba, and an abundance of other unpronounceable delicacies. "There. Now isn't that better? Never say I didn't do anything for you.

"Oh! That's right, the rooms," he recalls, clapping his hands. He pulls the PADD back out of the ether, reading off the list of quarters, their location, and the guests who will be sharing them.

Deck 07, Section 4
Room # 0713 - Kristen Kringle and Kuvira
Room # 0731 - Olan'atar and Sophia Inks
Room # 0737 - Bonnie Barstow and KITT (hologram)
Room # 0746 - Sterling Archer and Kira

Deck 8
Room # 0147 - T'Pol and Katniss Everdeen

Deck 9
Room # 0919 - Henry Mills and Matt Murdock
Room # 0921 - Pete Lattimer and Clara Oswald

"Now, won't that be fun?" Worf concludes, with a large, toothy grin. "Remember, it's only fun until Captain Picard has a heart attack, and then your actions are all on your own heads. Oh! Speaking of heads ... "

With one last snap, the Lieutenant in full dress before them morphs into what appears to be a Caucasian human male. No vestiges of the Klingon remain, and as such the man now lets out a long, grateful sigh. "It's good to be home."

For the foreseeable future, Ten Forward will remain in this state, and the doors to the guest quarters will stay open so each new arrival along with the old faithful can experience the full joy and beauty of the holiday season with each other. The corridors are all covered in frost, a pleasant nip in the air, and over the internal comms a song begins to play. The list of new assignments is also displayed on a PADD in Ten Forward, where people can refer to it if they need to.

[ooc: Happy Holidays, at least for the next few days! This log is both a party post for holiday shenanigans and an open log for new roomies (or old ones!) to build CR and meet their neighbors. We'll have a few special holiday top levels for gifts, but otherwise you can tag directly into the post with your character, their room number, and who they're looking for (or leave it OTA)!

Rooms are aligned the way they would be in a typical hotel: odd numbers on the left, even numbers on the right (so 0711 and 0713 will be next door neighbors, while 0712 is directly across the hall). There's a post in the OOC comm for OOC questions and comments! If you need to ask security questions, or need them to swing by another thread, just put "Security officer, please!" in the subject line of your tag, and the mods will send someone to you ASAP. The tour given by Chief O'Brien is not open for tagging; you can assume your character had any basic questions answered. ]

Current Location: Deck 10: Forward

beforethedarktimes

It had taken time, but Obi-Wan had become familiar enough with the holodeck to create a program for the room. Of course, as a first attempt, it was a far cry from some of the programs he’d seen. There were no characters, no costumes or props, but it suited his needs nonetheless.

It was a perfect recreation of one of the numerous training rooms within the Jedi Temple, or at least as perfect as he could make it from memory. The walls were smooth metal, curved and fitted as though they were part of some seamless, organic whole. Familiar tapestries adorned the walls, displaying the tenets of the Jedi Code, and the hard, tile floor bore the symbol of the Order in a ruddy, red stone.

There were a few details he couldn’t fill in of course. The room was the right size, but it didn’t feel quite as … open, as the genuine article. That, and the symbol on the floor was the wrong shade. Too light, or too dark, though for the life of him he couldn’t remember which. But it was close enough. Close enough that, for a moment, it felt like he was home.

It was a welcome change of pace.

While everyone else was busy preparing for the holidays, Obi-Wan could be found in his tranquil recreation of home. The sapphire-blue blade of his lightsaber was lit for the first time since he'd arrived. Despite his lack of practice, he showed no signs of rust as he flowed with practiced ease from one stance to the next.

general_chang

The fight was long and hard. There had been allies, whether Chang wanted them or not, but the result was the same, the violence was finally starting to die down and respect from the Klingons was as tangible as the tang of blood.

It was then that Chang began to speak, his voice low but carrying, filled with the purpose of the moment.

"You have come here to die to fight me. You have come to wrest me and deliver me in chains to the Klingon High Council. I have acted dishonourably in the eyes of the Council and in your eyes. You wish to punish me."

He allowed the grumbling to subside. "But I have fought you all in honourable combat. I have taken you on and defeated you. I have used the Sword of Kahless."

The grumbling took a different tone. "I have proved my honour to you. When was the last time the High Council valued your views enough to do so? You know what this sword means. You know my power. My right. I will not take it without your consent.

"Go back to your ships. Go back and speak of this day and this time and the potential it will bring. And bring the High Council a message: I will find out how much honour they have."

One of the Klingons pulled out their communicator and uttered a phrase. The brown shimmering light surrounded the Klingons still alive and they vanished, leaving the bodies behind.

Chang stared at the bodies around him, panting quietly. He dropped to his knees suddenly and leant on the Sword of Kahless, struggling to stay conscious.

Current Mood: drained

general_chang

[Klingons Boarding]

The ship shuddered under the attack, until it didn’t. But that didn’t mean that the assault was over: merely had taken a new form.

Speaking of taking new forms: a whine emerges from… somewhere. Close by, it seems. The source becomes all too clear all too quickly: angry looking Klingons, their ridges making them look even more venomous to those who didn't know of their species before they arrived on board.

They hold up their weapons at whoever they find in their way. At first it's a blaster, but very quickly, if challenged they'll switch to their blades, one a short, ugly dagger, the other a long graceful two handed weapon that could cut off heads.

[Shield Repair]

The only way to keep the Klingons out is to make sure the shields are back up. It was a top priority and volunteers were welcome to try.

[Fighting with Chang]

The Klingons had a destination and that was where Chang was. Chang was waiting for them. He fights hard and with a blade that's much like the two handed weapons the Klingons have, but it's old and tempered. The effect on the other Klingons is marked, however, there's tones of veneration. Not that it calms them in any way, in fact, their attack seems all the more voracious for it.

[ooc: Shield Repair is led by Geordi, so wait until Gabby starts the thread for that before you reply!]

Current Mood: infuriated

chaotica

Cambridge really hates it here.

He supposes, on some level, this is mostly petty spite. Starfleet ships aren't that different, really; while one might have a more informal atmosphere, and another goes purely on ceremony, and another contains families and the other just a scattering of scientists, they all have certain commonalities, in atmosphere and content. For example, most ships are more like each other than they are like Starfleet Medical, where Cambridge spent twelve years before being assigned to Voyager.

But, he hates it anyway. There's something missing in the atmosphere, and while the gel packs on Voyager don't have a smell of sorts, he imagines that there's a scent of ozone that's not there that should be. The uniforms look all wrong, and Cambridge resents it every moment, from bustling, bright ensigns to non-coms repairing open conduits.

Eventually, he settles on working on unsolved archaeological mysteries from the last few centuries. Alien, not human. It's at least something to do, and it's well within his area of expertise. Part of the time, he works in Ten-Forward, at a table with a handful of PADDs, frowning fiercely, cross-referencing. "No," is what he says to anyone who approaches him. Without looking up from the PADD.

The rest of the time, he works in his quarters, which he has to himself. And when he works like this, so intently, he doesn't care much for the organization of his room. Things end up on tables, on the floor. At one point he kicks a pair of pants aside, towards the doorway. Unfortunately, the next time the door opens and closes, the cloth gets in the way. So the ankle of the pants sticks out into the hallway, like a flag.

general_chang

Chang looks both out of place and not on board this ship. He's still wearing his uniform, but this other crew wasn't exactly wearing regulation uniform either. He stalked the creaky boards with some kind of contentment: this wasn't a Klingon ship, but it was certainly more palatable than what was usually on offer.

Particularly given they were about to engage an enemy. "Let us play this game," he grinned.

[OOC: You can be a part of Chang's crew or on the other ship. Chang will happily board it!]

do_your_duty

She's not very social.
It's not that she hasn't ever been.

She had good compatriots in her regiments on the Command Carriers. It wasn't the same on Moya. It was a small ship, but there were spaces she could not ignore nor avoid. Not remove the knowledge it was populated with only a handful of escaped criminals. (That she's just as much one of them now.)

The Enterprise is different than both. Larger than Moya, but much smaller than a Command Carrier. More than the small crew of prisoners, but crawling with civilians. On a mission of 'peace,' yet laden with weapons. But it does have some things in common with Moya.

The first. They each have a good training room.
The second. Aeryn Sun spends a lot of time there.
The third. There is only so much time you can do that.

Even if "time" is a weeken or a quarter cycle. Half a cycle. Which is why she's sitting on the floor now, looking at the empty room, every still, waiting apparatus. (The hum of the ship, beneath her, under it all, is different, too. She can tell, because the sound she's looking for, that something in her is feeling for, isn't there.)

(She knows that makes her more different than those three now, too.)

Current Location: DECK 12; THE GYMNASIUM

thankyou_boss

Tony had been aboard the ship for awhile, long enough for him to get used to things, and know where things are. Tony was pretty good at figuring things out. As long as he knew the parameters. The problem with the Enterprise was, as cool as it was, he didn't know what to do here exactly.

He had taken to wandering the halls though,and eventually found himself in Ten Forward. He actually liked it here, and he spent a lot time here. He could see the stars, which he still couldn't get over. He wandered over the bar.

"Hey there," He greeted, cordially. "Can I get a club soda please?"

endingupalone

[ooc: Warning for language.]

( Arriving in the lounge. )

------------

( After freaking out... )

suspense_kills_me

The last thing Red remembered was stepping out of the back of that FBI Police car, after Lizzie told him she cared about him. He was all set to head into whatever overly opulent house he was staying in for the night, and instead found himself face to face with a window full of stars.

That was, unexpected. Even more unexpected was the smell of recycled air and the hum of what could only be some sort of engine. All of that would lead him to believe he was on a ship, in space. A space ship. Odd.

At least he had his suit and his Fedora back.

When he turned away from the window after being sure to keep his emotions in check, he spotted the bar. At least he could find something about where or when he was from the bartender, and perhaps the other people enjoying a drink.

"Excuse me?"

general_chang

Chang's first action when getting his room assigned was to visit Khan. Matter accomplished, he took to decorating.

Naturally, this decoration took the form of his own people. It was important to Chang that, after a long day putting up with the Federation population, he could retire to a place that was a harbour from the enforced cultural bleaching that accompanied humanity wherever it went.

So his nationalistic form of decorating had nothing to do with Khan and everything to do with Chang. He'd even been so generous as to leave Khan's section (also known as the section that Chang didn't prefer - you get locked up in the Brig, you lose, Khan) more or less untouched in his absence.

The Sword of Kahless, his most prized possession, was displayed above his bed, a red light serving as a highlight (and a forcefield - he didn't exactly trust Khan not to swipe it off the wall and he hadn't earned such an honour). That is, if you could call what he had a bed. Pulling off the mattress wasn't really sufficient, but Chang had replaced it with some kind of anti-grav trolley that he must have pulled from the corner of some cargo bay that was little more than junk. The spare bedding had ended up on Khan's section - he might have some use for it.

Other than that, the lighting in Chang's section was dull with the odd red overtones and even some of the consoles had changed to fit in. It still had the overall Federation style - that took time to wash out - but Chang was making significant progress.

Right now, Chang was reading a PADD intently, sitting on his bed, with a good view of space outside. He wasn't really interested on what was happening otherwise, only his warrior's instinct making sure he was alert.

Current Mood: busy

rhapsoidein

The punching bag totally had it coming.

Genesis was, so far, alone in the gym and that's how she wanted it. She wanted to test out her strength again, to see if she was truly at full health. She took it upon herself to work the usual magic to make her wings retract back into her shoulders, disappearing altogether. She made sure to do this the day prior as it tended to exhaust her. Now, she was left with her bare back, the only evidence of her wings were two thin white lines over her exposed shoulder blades as her wrapped hands slammed into the weighted bag.

She wore her usual sports bra, dark red with black accents, her SOLDIER pants (just your average black army pants but with two belts wrapped at her waist) and combat boots (not your usual standard fare, as they were slightly heeled and ended at her knees). Her auburn hair, now grown to just above her shoulders, was up in a high ponytail, leaving strands at the base of her neck and her bangs and a few more layers framing her face.

Genesis made sure the bag was weighted heavier than the usual punching bag, or it would have flown off the hook within the first couple punches. Re-developing muscles showed on her abs and arms, giving her that satisfying burn. She was almost there, her health and strength were back. All that remained was getting her body back to its normal athletic shape. She grunted as she kept going, sweat glistening on her face and body, barely exhausted but still making it obvious that she had been here awhile.

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Location: Gym

ten_fwd_npcs

It's not very often a passenger is taken to Deck 33, and for good reason. Deck 33 is where the brig is located.

Should a passenger make an inquiry to one of the computer terminals, or access the directory on their PADDs, the locations of three passengers will be noted as 'BRIGGED' in bold font, with the following statements:

MACK GERHARDT has been taken into custody for breaking quarantine, entering a restricted area, and engaging in disorderly conduct. He will be brigged for three days assuming he cooperates with the officers in charge.

KHAN NOONIEN SINGH has been taken into custody for disorderly conduct and the assault of another passenger, following an enforced stay in Sickbay. He will be brigged for two days assuming he cooperates with the officers in charge.

DYLAN HUNT has been taken into custody for disorderly conduct and the assault of another passenger, following an enforced stay in Sickbay. He will be brigged for two days assuming he cooperates with the officers in charge.

There are officers standing guard outside the brig, as well as one stationed inside. The men are celled separately by forcefield to prevent further incident, and while it looks and sounds like there is no barrier between their cells and the room at large, there is no crossing-over until the forcefields are lowered. Visitors are allowed entrance after they check in with the guards on duty, and no one is allowed to be alone with the prisoners.

[ooc: Open visiting log for the brig. All security personnel are NPCs and should be treated as there in the background unless they're called on to answer questions or engage with other characters.]

Current Location: Deck 33: Room #5244, Brig

ten_fwd_npcs

The events of the last several days have been quite... intriguing. The responsibility of giving the new arrivals chaperones — or pairing them off and calling them 'roommates', as it is more often said — and assigning them permanent residence on the Enterprise usually falls on Lt. Worf's shoulders. However, given the strange events that have befallen Lt. Worf's current timeline, it is Lt. Cmdr. Data who has been given the responsibility today.

He looks across the faces of those gathered before him in Ten Forward, and then over his shoulder to take in the strange appearance of Ten Forward. An event called 'Saturnalia' still seems to be affecting the lounge's appearance, much to the discomfort of the captain and several other chiefs of staff. Data merely turns back, and utters a soft, "Hm."

"Now that Dr. Crusher has cleared everyone for ship-wide access, you will be assigned quarters and instructed on the correct behavior and protocols needed for life aboard the Enterprise. Please, listen carefully to my following words.

"The computer will instruct you as to where all cleared-for-access decks are. You only need to utter a verbal command, and it will show you where each area is located and give you directions on how to get there. Do not visit any restricted areas. The bridge, engine rooms, and all command centers are off-limits.

"There are a few rules you must follow before I give you your new assignments. One, do not discharge any weapon while on the Enterprise. Two, do not assault any other passenger aboard in any way; that includes injury, death, or violating their personal rights. Three, do not tamper with the operational procedures of the ship. Four, do not steal items or technology from the ship. Five, do not interrupt any official areas of the ship without proper authorization, and do not invade the privacy of other guest or crew quarters.

"Copies of the Prime Directive will be made available to you and placed in each room. As you are not Starfleet officers, you are not obligated to abide by this rule; however, it is important you understand why we ourselves do."

He pauses to be sure everyone is paying attention, and nods once he is satisfied. "Now, I will read you the list of quarters, their location, and the guests who will be sharing them."

Deck 07, Section 4
Room # 0711 - Billy Cranston and Yuna
Room # 0714 - Wan and TenSoon
Room # 0729 - Booker DeWitt and Neena Thurman
Room # 0732 - Belle Gold, Mr. Gold and Jonas Quinn
Room # 0733 - Mack Gerhardt and Peggy Carter
Room # 0737 - Samanosuke Akechi and Kira Nerys
Room # 0749 - The Doctor and Laura Kinney
Room # 0751 - Kaylee Frye and Simon Tam
Room # 0752 - Marika Kato and Neal Cassidy
Room # 0758 - Percy Jackson and Trance Gemini
Room # 0759 - Diaval and Mitsuru Kirijo
Room # 0763 - Robin Hood and Gaheris Rhade

Deck 08, VIP quarters
Room # 0145 - Christopher Pike
Room # 0146 - Elizabeth DeWitt and Spock
Room # 0147 - Pavel Chekov
Room # 0148 - Leonard Horatio McCoy and Jack Twist

"Lt. Worf will remain in his quarters on Deck 7, Section 25 Baker, as will Dr. Katherine Pulaski on Deck 8, Room # 3357," Data continues, pausing minutely before he continues. "General Chang and Khan Noonien Singh will be placed on the security level of Deck 33, Room # 5245, and it is highly advised others not go there without supervision.

"I will remain here to answer questions," he concludes. "Security will be standing by to escort you if needed."

The list is also displayed on a PADD, where people can refer to it if they need to.

[ooc: Open log for building CR with new roommates and meeting neighbors, "party post" style! Rooms are aligned the way they would be in a typical hotel: odd numbers on the left, even numbers on the right (so 0711 and 0713 will be next door neighbors, while 0712 is directly across the hall). There is a post in the OOC comm where players can connect with questions and find more details about the rooms themselves, so check in over there. If you need to ask security questions, or need them to swing by another thread, just put "Security officer, please!" in the subject line of your tag, and the mods will send someone to you ASAP. ]

alwaysnotwrong

There are pigs in the corridors. Large, squealing, hairless sows, squeaking piglets, even one moderately imposing boar is making Deck Ten his run... and somebody has to round them up. Never mind that there have been dangerous convicts and honourless villains appearing at random aboard the Enterprise with the rest of its harmless new 'guests', Worf has worked under the orders of Captain Picard for years. Even if he has only been reintegrated to his old role for a few days, he is one of the first to understand how important it will be to round these suids up.

That is why he can be found all across the Enterprise, along with his team of security officers, attempting to trick the crafty, pink-skinned beasts into dead ends and forcefield barriers. You might encounter the Klingon tracking his prey with a look of tight-jawed frustration on his own... or you might just be surprised to hear him bellowing as he gives chase to some potentially infuriating sow.

He has not yet discovered the true danger in all of this: mistletoe hanging from innocuous bulkhead beams has been causing crew and civilians alike to share kisses. If Worf does not deputize you in his attempt to capture the last of these tricksome beasts, you might just have the misfortune of being under the same sprig at the same time as him. He will apologize afterwards, but be warned: he bites.

((A catch-all event for Worf's pig and mistletoe shenanigans! Feel free to reply here if you'd like to get in on either!))

dreams_dont_die

Dylan's been spending less time in the lounge lately, less time in the places where he's forced to be around others. He's been practicing in the gym, shooting hoops and trying not to remember doing just that with Gaheris on the Andromeda, finessing his combat technique in the martial arts training area, working himself to exhaustion more often than not.

He's been avoiding his crew, too.

Still, he has to eat, and he's not in the mood to talk to Lucie, so he's come to the lounge and taken a table that lets him stare at the stars as they pass, though he feels little of the wonder traveling faster than light without Slipstream first made him feel. He's toying with the remnants of a meal, though it's clear he hasn't eaten much.

Beka, if she were here, would call it brooding.

Gaheris Rhade is here.

His best friend. The man he'd trusted with everything he cared for: his ship, his crew, his life. His fiancée. His friendship. Gaheris had been the one man he'd trusted above anyone else, and Gaheris had betrayed that trust. Because of Gaheris, Dylan lost Sara, lost his crew, lost his home and the whole world he'd ever known, his friends, his family, everything but Andromeda, and it was only by a near-impossible chance of science that he had his ship and his life.

Gaheris had tried to kill him, and his sabotage had nearly fed Andromeda to the black hole. And Gaheris is here, acting like none of it ever happened.

Starfleet would tell him not to interfere with the timeline, not to let Gaheris know what had happened, that he knew the plans for betrayal and the destruction of everything Dylan believed in that his two-faced supposed friend had fostered for so long.

Dylan couldn't do it. He couldn't face the man who'd haunted his memories and his nightmares, his flashbacks and his fears, and pretend they were still the best of friends. So Dylan had pulled a weapon on his best friend and driven him away.

He wants to believe he doesn't regret it. He doesn't miss Gaheris. He doesn't long for any contact with the world he'd thought was gone forever.

It's not as easy to believe as it should be.

[ OTA but particularly to his crew and those with whom he has substantial CR ]

Current Location: Deck Ten, Forward: Lounge

ten_fwd_npcs

Sickbay is fairly ordinary for a ship's hospital. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you might see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for the staff, they're all well-groomed and friendly. As a matter of fact, all personnel look harmless. Well, perhaps excluding the sun avatar, but Trance Gemini is as skilled as the Starfleet officers.

If you're new to the ship, no doubt you've been escorted here by the security team. Nothing to worry about, the doctors just want to make sure you aren't carrying any viruses or are vulnerable to terrible space disease. Once you've been checked over — a quick scan from a tricorder and any necessary vaccines — you'll be free to go! Lollipops are optional.

"All right, step on in," one of them calls out as you enter. "Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."

[ooc: Sickbay is, as always, OTA! For new characters, tagging isn't mandatory but going to sickbay ICly is. So if you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. For those who are tagging, we have Simon Tam, Rory Williams, Beverly Crusher, and Julian Bashir on deck, with Trance Gemini by request only. If you have a preference, please specify in the subject line of your tag who you would like. If you would like more details about sickbay, here's the wiki page. If you haven't made your intro yet, you can assume the doctors will want to see your character shortly after they arrive, and backtagging is love! There will be a post up in the OOC comm with more details if you have any questions.]

Current Location: Section 23 Baker, Room # 1631: Sickbay

general_chang

When the flash of light appeared in the corridor and deposited a Klingon, the Klingon obviously did not expect to find himself there. He was, honestly, a little irritated.

He let out a hiss rather than a breath to expel his frustration and took stock of his new situation. The decor was bright and clean which spoke of a relaxing, calming atmosphere.

Was it really too much to ask for him to be brought to an ongoing battle? Or even a bar brawl. How hard is that to organise, really?

Absolutely Not Sulking At All, Klingons Don't Do That What Are You Talking About, he goes to what looks like an interface in the wall. It obediently lights up. He didn't have to look at it very long before he discovered who the designers were. The Federation. They even called this ship the Enterprise.

No. Chang has had enough. Screw his Klingon heritage. He is definitely sulking now.

[[ooc: title has the Klingon Q - which is pronounced Ker-plunk. So it's a three-way word play. Sorry, not sorry.]]

Current Mood: moody

Ten Forward Social Lounge

[School]: The continuing classes...

A very violent reentry - OTA - Spoilers for the 10th doctor's era

Valentine's Day Blind Dates Party Post + Galentine's Day Dance!

It's not a party if... nobody gets kidnapped? / open

[Ten Forward]: Rooming Assignments + Holiday Open House!

Two. (Open to All)

End Game

Klingons Onboard

ota

Pirates of Klingon Space (open!)

DECK 12; THE GYMNASIUM

Take Two~ Wanderlust

Arrival [Open]

The Concierge of Crime arrives [OTA]

The Klingon and The Augment - Roomies!

At the Gym [Open]

[Brig:] Security Announcement

[Ten Forward]: Rooming Assignments | Round #6

Saturnalia Suuuuuui!

(no subject)

[Sickbay]: Round Six Scans and Vaccines

Q'Plunk | Crew Quarters Corridor

Ten Forward

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March 2016

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