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Shaking Free [PLOT]

Posted on Thu May 30th, 2019 @ 6:18am by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Petty Officer 2nd Class Fhiri & Lieutenant Cynfor Rees & Lieutenant Laree Desai & Jillian Mox & Lieutenant Commander Rhiana t'Aegis & Commander Yumi Han & Lieutenant JG Soto Gantt & Lieutenant JG Yikete Oggt & Lieutenant JG Murril Na & Lieutenant Jackson Smith & Warrant Officer Arlan Harlan & Kalstri Tenistion

Mission: Mission 5: Arising From the Ashes
Location: Firebird
Timeline: 2 February, 2395, - 0900 Hours


The shuttle departed the space station at the center of the Antares Shipyards, carrying a small complement of passengers, including one captain. It accelerated into open space, cut left and tucked in behind an aging Galaxy Class ship with numerous scorch marks on her aft mid-section. It idled in the large ship's wake, maintaining proper distance lest he receive a reprimand from Antares Control. A glance at his flight plan showed an opening and he accelerated down and to the right, bobbing past a pair of speeding worker bees heading for one of the handful of orbital drydocks. The passengers watched as the shuttle nosed down, lining up what appeared to be a certain collision with an Olympic class hospital ship. But the pilot simply eased the shuttle slightly to the left and ducked underneath the ship's globe like forward component. Once past he flicked his wrist back to the right and pulled the nose up, lining the shuttle up with another orbital dockyard that, from a distance, appeared to be empty. Only as the shuttle grew closer could they make out the diminutive shape of a unique starfleet vessel.

The pilot had been a regular to this distant dockyard, watching over the past six months as the wreck had been properly sorted and set to rights. He reduced speed and slid into the interior of the dockyard, easing up close to the ship and circling around. The two rear shuttlebay doors split open, bathing the front of the shuttle in a blue-white light. With practiced ease, the shuttle settled to the deck and the pilot toggled his communications console.

=^=Firebird this is Antares shuttle 771. It is my pleasure to inform you that your captain has returned=^=

=^=Roger that, Antares shuttle. Thank you for bringing him back. We'd misplaced him=^=

Malcom laughed as he stood and made his way off the shuttle. It was good to be home for good. All the meetings he'd had with the dockyard engineers were finally over. The Firebird refit was certified complete.

[Deck 4 -Main Engineering]

Malcom's first stop was engineering. He would never admit it to anyone, especially not Jackson, but without propulsion, the Firebird was little more than a floating piece of space junk. He walked through the massive main engineering doors and saw the engineering crew was clustered around Chief Harlan. Malcom leaned against the wall for a minute, watching the newly promoted Harlan address his small, but skilled staff.

Harlan drew himself up to address the rest of the engineering grunts. "Alright everyone, it's time to wake up. I know we've had a fun time fixing this bird for I don't even know how long by now, but we need everyone alive. Rumor has it we're launching on another mission soon. That means playtime is over! I want everyone at their best if we're to keep this bird in the air forever like it was meant to be."

Harlan paused a moment and then continued. "You should all know your assignments, but report to section heads if something looks wrong. No screw ups, or I'll have to come off my station and nobody wants me checking your work right now. Now, get to it and make Starfleet proud."

Fhiri waited for what she expected to follow the praise words. In Ferengi they were often referred to as pre-beating words. But Harlan said nothing. She turned to look at Lieutenant Soto. "Uhh... sir? Where's the bad news?"

Startled at being addressed by Fhiri, Gantt paused in mid-turn. "What are you talking about?" He glanced at the gleaming surfaces of the re-constructed Engineering rooms. "New ship. New mission. Same Harlan. What news were you expecting?"

Fhiri looked at the lieutenant as if his lobes had fallen off. "I know I haven't been here long, and most of my time has been spent either on a degenerate planet or helping to fix this crate up, but even I know that after the rah-rah speech, the beatings start and Chief Harlan has some hefty arms. Is it ok to run for it, like on a Ferengi ship, or should we just stand and take it?"

The urge to tell Fhiri to run for it was strong. It was a harmless practical joke, but for some reason his gut didn't like the idea. "There won't be beatings, Fhiri. Chief Harlan will grumble and glare if you start running. But he won't beat you."

Fhiri nodded and smiled. "Ok. Sure," she said and then turned and slowly walked away. Time to spend some time in the tubes like Chief Harlan is always saying she thought. Just in case.

[Deck 2 - Main Science Lab]

The ship's computer had finally figured out when Desai was actually talking to it, versus just talking at it. So when Desai muttered, "No no no no. I need Fisher's observed information, not the expected information. Moron." the computer didn't take it personally. It ignored her, and waited for her to edit the code. They were working on a tricky optimization problem: in thirty-two dimensions, about half of them over a constrained parameter space, and none of the numerical algorithms she had tried were converging. She was attempting to model the temporal dynamics of a particular marine ecosystem on Vulcan. For the past six months, the system had been moving toward a catastrophic collapse, and no one could seem to figure out why. It was the kind of problem she loved, but right now she was frustrated and had to suppress an urge to kick the computer console.

She hadn't suppressed the urge quite enough. Murril's head and shoulders appeared from behind a transparent aluminum maze of liquids. When Desai made eye contact, Murril gestured with his head towards the artifact mounted above the lab's door. "You're not gonna take it out on the ship again, are you?" The artifact in question was a 0.5 meter section of a nondescript support beam extricated from the mess hall of the Firebird's previous incarnation. A single dent was visible on the beam's surface.

Murril added, "The archaea population count from week six didn't look anything like the surrounding weeks, so I reran it. It's still way out there. As if you needed more on your plate." Murril didn't catch his inadvertent pun in time.

"Pun Tax!" Desai cried triumphantly, pointing to a jar of tokens next to the DNA sequencer. Na owed her several Romulan ales at this point - she was going to have to start collecting soon lest she face a truly epic bender. "Week six, huh? Well, lets go back to the logs and track down the dastardly deeds..."

"I have no idea what you are all doing, aside from experimenting on part of my messhall, but I am glad to see you both here," Malcom said entering the room but not taking more than a step forward. "Is there anything the two of you need right now?" He silently prayed that they wouldn't ask him for something that would force him to display his general ignorance of the science department.

"Not unless you can alter time, speed up the harvest or teleport me off this rock," Desai replied. "Or reprogram my lovely assistant here by excising his addiction to really bad puns!" she added. She looked up, noticed the look of comic bewilderment on the captain's face, and took pity. "Come in, Captain. I promise Lieutenant Na has his microbes well contained in his petri dishes."

Malcom didn't budge. "I have a lot more of the ship to survey, lieutenant. I could see about letting the EMH reprogram Lieutenant Na though," Malcom said. "What do you think, Murril? Should we give that a shot or is the status quo effective here?"

Feels he's intruding? Wait! That's not it. Doesn't want to lose face! That's probably it. Murril Na stepped fully out from behind the chemistry array. He slowly shrugged and replied, "Our lab's working well, sir." Murril decided to let the Captain off the hook by not adding any additional questions or tangents. Malcom's words were confident aloud, but there was a background noise of hurry and rush in everything the Captain had said so far.

Malcom gave a small, awkward wave. "In that case, I'll leave you both to your, petri dishes. I've got a lot of departments to see," he said and exited the science lab. After the door closed he paused in the corridor. "That went... well," he said to himself and then walked off.

[Deck 4 Chief Security Officer's Office]

Crewman Keith Potter stood at attention, waiting for whatever Commander t'Aegis was about to deliver. His preferred order of action, when facing an angry superior, was to feign ignorance or stupidity. Or both. It came naturally to him. He knew that he shouldn't have let the Marines get to him but they were so arrogant about everything.

"I expect better of you, Crewman," the chief of security and tactical was saying to her least favourite member of the security department while giving him one of her looks. "You are supposed to work together with the Marines, not engage in childish rivalries. If I hear of this happening again, you will spend a minimum of one month in full-time drill. "Is that understood, Crewman Potter?"

Rhiana sighed inwardly. She knew he would likely not be impressed. She did not like Potter and had tried to have him reassigned while the Firebird was undergoing repairs, but her request had been refused because the security department was in danger of being understaffed. There had been deaths after the Firebird's encounter with the New Maquis and several departures during the last six months. The one Rhiana regretted was that of Petty Officer Djokovic. Rationally, she knew that Djokovic would excel at Starfleet Academy and would make an excellent officer. But she still experienced it as a heavy loss for the department - and personally. She had liked the young woman. Of course, there were new arrivals now, but there was certainly no-one who could replace Djokovic.

Potter nodded. "Yes, commander, I will not let them get to me again," he said with a straight face, knowing full well that he was lying and that she knew he was lying. He took solace in the fact that he couldn't be demoted. "Permission to depart, sir?"

And that was exactly Rhiana's problem. He could not be demoted. Starfleet did not as such pay out salaries that could be docked either. In fact, Starfleet offered precious little in ways of punishing someone like Potter. "Dismiss, Crewman."

Malcom entered as Potter was scuttling out. He saw the look on Rhiana's face. "Everything alright, commander? Potter being especially Potter today?"

Watching Potter leave without actually seeing him as she contemplated whether she would get away with implementing Galae approved ways of disciplining wayward crewmembers. The captain's unexpected entrance startled her briefly but did not remove her frown. "Yes." If she assigned him to brig duty, he would end up bored and figure out more ways to behave inappropriately. A second later, the frown disappeared as she found the ease and obvious solution to her problem: B'Rala. Rhiana almost smiled at the thought, then realised who was standing right in front of her and quickly composed herself. "I apologise, Sir." She saluted. "The security department is ready and at your command, Captain."

Malcom returned the salute. "I expect nothing less, commander. I won't stick my nose into your departmental business but do let me know if there is anything I can do to help. We don't need any internal strife," Malcom said. He'd caught the gist of what Potter had done and the Marines were still pretty energized from their shore leave. He made a mental note to have a conversation with Lieutenant Cunningham.

"Thank you, Sir, I will keep that in mind." The chief of security and tactical's tone was non-committal and she quickly continued, "In the meantime, shall I give you an introduction into the weapons and defense systems upgrades the Firebird has received while in dock?"

After the thrashing they'd received from the New Maquis, upgrades to tactical had been at the top of his list. He'd been impressed with their shields. They'd been the only reason the ship was still flying. "Absolutely," Malcom said. "He walked over to his Chief of Security, leaning forward to see what she had to show him.

[Deck 3 Operations Lab]

Malcom strolled into the operations lab, quite uncertain what to expect. The computer had informed him that Lieutenant Rees was here and he knew the two of them had things to discuss. He paused inside the doorway, taking in the room.

Cyn had been overjoyed to be back on the Firebird. Some of the crew welcomed him back and some looked at him with disdain. They all knew what had transpired and this was to be expected. He was going over the new power demands the upgraded systems would need, as well as experimenting with a solar generator for power. Rees heard the doors to the lab swish open and turned to see who it was. There was a beat where his brain did not register the Captain standing there. However, when he did he rose to attention and blanched a tad pale. The Captain was the one person he had not seen since coming back. "Sir! Welcome back, and welcome to Ops"

Malcom let his eyes take in the whole room as he stepped inside, the door closing softly behind him. He was impressed at the number of data screens that filled the walls. In the middle was a large island like console, big enough for four people to work at comfortably. Different streams of information flooded across all of them

"Thank you, lieutenant. I thought I should stop in and look at this new space of yours. I can't say I've ever seen anything like it. Can you give me the highlights from an Ops perspective?" Malcom asked, looking Cynfor in the eye.

"Absolutely sir! First we have what I have nicknamed the big board." Cyn motioned to four data screens that were on one of the walls. "From here we can see every particle of power and where it is allocated at any given moment. It also shows us what power is on reserve. A new safeguard that was put in is any department head can assume bridge control from operations. Of course this can only be done with the Commanding Officer's authorization. Finally, new holoemitters allow for HALP and the EMH to work in the Operations lab." Cyn spoke proudly of these improvements. Although he had nothing to do with the design of the Operations Department. He did help with the testing and a lot of his ideas for streamlining were included.

"It looks great. I look forward to seeing what it can do when we are underway. Make sure that you are tying the data feed into the appropriate departments. I bet stellar cartography, engineering and maybe intel would love to parse some of this," Malcom said, impressed. He did feel a twinge of concern over the holo-emitters. Yumi might have a bit of a problem with them. "Anything I can do for you now that we are underway again?"

"It is funny that you mention that sir. Another improvement in our power output is that of solar absorption. We are now capable of running on solar power when needed. That is to say in states of emergency we can draw energy from nearby stars and charge our power reserves. All of those departments were involved in the development of that new system." Cyn smiled broadly he was exceptionally proud of these new systems. "Sir there is nothing that I need at the moment. However, on a more personal note, I wanted to thank you for allowing me to return to this ship."

Malcom nodded. "You're a good officer, lieutenant. Your past is complicated and I've been before a judge before myself. We'll talk about it more later, I'm sure. Until then, know that I have complete confidence in you and your department," Malcom said. "Carry on."

[Deck 5 Sickbay]

Malcom strolled into sickbay. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd voluntarily made his way into sickbay. It was no secret that he tried to avoid the place. Generally, it meant he was visiting an injured crewmember, Luka's face came to mind, or he was undergoing a regular physical.

A pair of medical officers huddled together over an unfamiliar Tellarite body laid out on a surgical biobed. Oggt was a good foot taller than Shel and manipulated the surgical controls with a, perhaps, a surprising amount of finesse from his long, almost claw-like fingers. He looked satisfied with the outcome of whatever had just happened and cocked his head slightly at the CMO to garner her reaction. "And that's how I was taught to reintegrate a detached tarsian joint."

Shel nodded in approval, leaning in a bit closer to inspect the seamless connection to the interosseous talocalcaneal ligament. “Impressive technique, I’ve never seen such an approach before. I can only imagine this method significantly reduces postoperative inflammation?”

"Indeed, and essentially making an end run around the problem of Tellarites' natural resistances to anti-inflammatories," Oggt seemed to look over Shel's head for a moment at the incoming captain, whom he acknowledged with a nod. "Incoming," he said quietly and shut down the surgical simulation with a few presses on the biobed.

Straightening her posture, Darzana turned with a welcoming smile to greet their visitor. “Captain, welcome to sickbay!” She had been so engrossed in the demonstration that she hadn’t heard anyone enter. “What can we do for you?”

Malcom grinned. "Well there's nothing wrong with my tarsian joint, I can assure you," he said. "I'm just doing a walkthrough to see how the refit is working out for all the departments. It looks like sickbay is functioning well. I don't want to interrupt what you were doing. Where did you get..." he started to say and then shook his head. "Nevermind. I'll let you two get back to that." He backed out of sickbay.

[Deck 2 XO's Ready Room]

Malcom keyed the door chime and waited for the response. He was looking forward to seeing his XO again.

The bark of heavy furniture dragging over the floor answered his chime. A few seconds later the door slid open. Barely two feet inside, a slate desk stood like the bouncer for a furniture night club. Two fuscia lounge chairs lay sideways like passed out drunks on a shaggy couch in the corner.
Standing behind the desk, Yumi passed a drill to her left hand and saluted the Captain. It had been too long not to observe a few formalities. "Sir, my apologies. I'm just getting things put right. I didn't specifically request any furniture; so, they gave me the first things that fell off the transport, I think."

Malcom looked at the desk, at the shaggy couch and then returned the salute. "Carry on, XO. I don't want to delay your grand opening. Would you like some help?" He asked. "I'm a decent hand with a multi-tool." He squeezed into the room. It wasn't as big as his but was larger than the closet he'd expected it to be. It even had one medium sized window.

"Yes, thank you." Yumi pointed him to the gaudy chairs by aiming her drill at them. "They come apart somehow... They're too big to get into the recycler all put together." She knelt under her slate grey desk, hidden behind the modesty panel, and her drill whizzed for a second before a falling bolt clacked on the floor. "Where did they send you after the USS Iowa?" her voice echoed. The drill whizzed again. Clack.

Malcom made his way over to the chairs and began examining them. He saw that despite their hideous color, they were well made. He was going to have to work to get them apart. He reached for a multi-tool he spotted on the ground. "Well, as you can imagine, there were a lot of debriefings. A lot. Then I got to take some actual vacation with Jenna," he said. He flipped the multi-tool until the chisel portion was protruding from the front and began prying one of the legs off the first chair. "After that, they made me take an old Miranda class ship, the USS Alexander out on a month long cadet cruise. Honestly, I'd rather have gone back into the Badlands. I can't believe how quickly I forgot how frustrating cadets can be. What are these things made of?!"

"No idea." Yumi grunted as she got back to her feet and studied the desk. She tugged the top, but it wouldn't budge. Somewhere, one last tenacious screw was holding everything together. With her luck, it would collapse right when she crawled back under to look for it. "I think, they're Denobulan design." She stepped back for a break and glanced over at the Captain. At least he was making progress.

"Cadets are easier when you outnumber them." She grinned in sympathy. After a sobering breath, Yumi looked out at the winking stars of the Cardassian Sector and brought up the topic she was dreading. The elephant in the command team conference room. "The New Maquis are getting stronger, no small thanks to the old Maquis. Do you really still trust Lieutenant Rees?"

Malcom paused. He'd managed to get the one leg off, but he didn't know how. He looked up at Yumi. "Hard question, XO. He's guilty of treason. But he's pardoned. I have to weigh his service with the Firebird versus his past actions. He's done everything I've asked of him as a department chief and by all accounts was well liked by the crew before this all came out. I know there's some oddness going on now. My gut says that he was acting to protect his child. Jenna and I haven't been able to have children but I see how Jillian is with Emily and I have to think that she'd sacrifice anything to save her. Would she be wrong? Was Cynfor wrong?" He paused, looking around at the small office and then spoke again. "I trust him to do his duty to us" he said and then locked eyes with Yumi. "But I also have the responsibility to protect the ship. So I trust you to keep an eye on him."

"Oh, I will." Yumi's dark eyes glinted back at the stars. "His duty to Starfleet is exactly what he didn't do when it got in the way of his duty to family."

[Deck 2 Chief Diplomat's Officer]

Malcom looked up and down the corridor, smiling at Crewman Lopt who was passing, making sure that he was in the right place. He couldn't remember ever actually visiting Commander Leed in his office before. No time like the present though. He toggled the entry chime and waited.

Jörgen stood before a large wall-mounted screen showing a detailed region of space. He tapped on a small alphanumeric console and color bloomed on-screen with myriad networks of lines, patches, and symbols. The door chime sounded. Jörgen entered another code and the screen reverted to its usual map of space. He pivoted, arms clasping behind his back. "Enter."

Malcom walked into the room, stopping a few feet in and taking in the chief diplomat's office. It felt different from any other department chief's office. Less utilitarian. And the wall-mounted screen was definitely not standard issue. "Good day, commander," Malcom said with a smile. "I thought it was only fair that I finally visit you in your office as we are about to get underway at last. Are you studying up on something already?"

"Always." Jörgen turned back to the screen. "This region of space is much more than the sum of all parts. There are borders, yes, but also resources, trade routes, and areas of influence." He added overlays to the screen with each phrase. "Each piece acts or reacts according to many variables. Just as you must know the strengths, weaknesses, desires, and interactions of each crew member to function smoothly. Forgive me, Captain. Surely you did not come to hear me banter about diplomacy. How may I be of service to you?"

"Immediately? By reminding me that this little ship isn't the center of the universe, despite how I sometimes think it is. Which you just have," Malcom said with a smile. "More long term? I'm hoping that you and I can work together more frequently. I'd like to set up weekly meetings with you, informal ones, where you can help me expand my knowledge of the sector's diplomatic hot spots such as," he pointed at the console. "All of that."

"Of course Captain, however I can help share as much as able. I am eager to help." Jörgen had half expected this. A small fish may wish to know much more of their world when they discover how dangerous the large pond is. How massive the scale. How skilled the predators. "Should you wish help again with the first point, I learned several good phrases early in my career from my superiors. Negotiating the signing of an agreement with a greedy house of Klingons does not cement one's legacy as a great diplomat."

"Commander, I think there's a lot you are going to be able to teach me," Malcom said.

[Deck 5 Messhall]

"Well, this is different," Malcom said as he took in the newly refurbished messhall. He remembered authorizing some of Kalstri's requested changes but... this was more than he'd expected. His eyes roved until they landed on his chef.

"Kalstri, what have you done to my messhall?"

Kalstri beamed at his captain as he stood behind the counter. Kalstri had opened up the whole kitchen to the dining area. This give the room a more open and airy atmosphere. The smells of the kitchen easily drifted throughout the whole hall. You could hear the sizzle of bacon and the see the steam slide off some stir fried vegetables. The tables were now round instead of rectangular and the seating appeared to be more comfortable than any other chairs on the ship. The quality of construction and materials was far beyond most messhalls. "Captain! It is a pleasure to see you..." Kalstri chuckled at the captains comment, "I have to admit sir, I do apologize, it appears you no longer have a "mess" hall. But a "dining" hall." Kalstri gave a good hearty chuckle and spread it all his arms out wide gesturing to the whole room. "Isn't it marvelous?"

Malcom couldn't help but grin. "It is yet another Kalstri masterpiece, my friend. Thank you for upgrading our humble messhall into a dining hall," Malcom said. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted two familiar forms. It appeared the Moxes were two of the first to experience the dining hall together. Emily sat next to her mother, a heavy looking blue plate filled with...chocolate chip pancakes and bacon?

"Jillian, Emily, good to see you," Malcom said. "I assume the food is as good as it looks?"

Emily shoved a forkful of pancakes into her mouth and waved a fist of bacon in Malcom's direction, all the while nodding.

Jillian reached out and encouraged Emily's hand back over the plate. "Let's keep the food where it belongs." Her smile took away any belief that her voice was stern. "Good morning, Captain. The food is excellent." She glanced at her own plate that held a small bowl filled with yogurt, berries, and granola. "The berries could have been picked in the wild as far as flavor went." She gave a thumbs up to Kalstri. "I agree with the captain. This is a masterpiece."

"If you and Emily are pleased, then I'm please. Everyone knows that Emily is the Chief Food Taster for the ship," Malcom said.

"Myesh, I am," Emily said through a mouthful of pancakes. Thanks, Kalstri!"

"You are most welcome, my friend." Kalstri beamed. "And this is not all my doing, you have the quartermaster to thank for finding such amazing "lost" furniture that had no place to go." Kalstri grinned a little impishly. "Of course, it was a pleasure to cook for him and his family."

"Kalstri, sometimes you are obligated to share your talents. I can't blame you for that," Malcom said with a wink. "You all have a good day. I'm off." With a wistful look at the food arrayed before him, Malcom turned and walked out of the new dining hall. He would definitely be back soon.

[Deck 1 Bridge]

Malcom stepped onto the bridge, his tour of the ship complete. He still needed to talk to Lieutenant Cunningham about the Marines but otherwise, he felt good about where his people were at mentally. He made his way over to his seat and eased down into it. Jackson was at the helm, Chief Haverson was at Ops, Petty Officer Fhiri was at engineering, and Chief Vaugh was at the science station with Cadet Lenert hovering nearby.

Kipp walked over and handed Malcom a cup of tea. He took it with a grateful smile.

"Did the ship meet your expectations, sir?" the yeoman asked.

Malcom nodded. "It did, it did," he said and blew on the hot tea. "Now we just need to see how she handles. Lieutenant Smith, detach umbilical. Ahead one quarter thrusters. Lets try not to scratch the paint on our way to Empok Nor."

Jackson was thrilled to be back with the Firebird. It was challenging and fun to try out those other ships, but he definitely had a soft spot for the Firebird. Jackson chuckled at the captain, "No guarantees here captain, but I will do my best." Jackson detached from the space station and easily moved out. It was good to be back home.


Captain Malcom Llwyedd
Commanding Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant Cynfor Rees
Chief Operations Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant Commander Yumi Han
Executive Officer/Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant Junior Grade Jackson Smith
Chief Flight Control Officer/Covert Operations Specialist
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant Laree Desai
Chief Science Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant JG Murril Na
Assistant Chief Science Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant Commander Rhiana t'Aegis
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant Junior Grade Soto Gantt
Assistant Chief Engineering Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Warrant Officer Arlan Harlan
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Jillian Mox
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant JG Yikete Oggt M.D.
Medical Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant Darzana Shel M.D.
Chief Medical Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Petty Officer Third Class Fhiri
Computer Systems Specialist
USS Firebird NCC-88298
NPC by Llwyedd

Crewman Keith Potter
Security Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298
NPC by Llwyedd

Kalstri Teniston
USS Firebird NCC-88298
NPC by Smith

Ms. Emily Mox
Destroyer of Pancakes
USS Firebird NCC-88298
NPC by Llwyedd


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Comments (3)

By Lieutenant JG Yikete Oggt on Mon Jun 3rd, 2019 @ 8:00am

YAY. I feel like the gang's back together again as Desai returns and the Firebird is back to normal capacity. Perfect title. Can't wait to see great things from this mission! -Liam

By Lieutenant Cynfor Rees on Thu Aug 22nd, 2019 @ 4:58am

I am a fan of when we do posts like these. Little vinettes that give you an brief insight into what is going on with the character at a given moment. To me it makes the trivial moments like launching the ship from dock, real. It makes the characters more like real people. I hope we get to do one of these kinds of posts per mission. Real fun to write, and read, and good way to learn about the other characters.

By Poc on Sat Aug 24th, 2019 @ 9:38am

Very interesting post. Doing such tour on the ship is a nice way to get to know all the main characters. Each departments has its own atmosphere as well.
I really enjoyed reading the first part about the docking of the shuttle. This is so well done that I immediately pictured a similar scene from Starship Troopers (