Post by Judith Eastman on Sept 2, 2021 14:06:02 GMT
Welcome to the POTM process for this past month - August. We have seven submissions for you to choose from!
We also have one honorable mention, for our admin Charlie Fox. Admins being admins, this is not eligible to win, but good on Flick for writing a great post!
{Submission #1, by Ic Arbrell, is in the Event}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
Ensign Ic Arbrell — Science Tent(!), LZ-2 Colony, Kerelia]
The harshness of the Klingon woman’s attitude toward him really should have been expected, and he probably should have just shut it, to avoid the acridity of burnt coffee that was the flavor of disdain. Should have known, but wasn’t surprised. As furtively as possible, he moved slowly to create a nice, wide margin there, thanks. Perhaps he would have been better off in the bar; he had a pretty good track record with those already.
When Evoris spoke up to include him where before it seemed he had been shunned, the ensign perked up a bit. Fortunately, or unfortunately, time would tell, the Captain had wrangled him in completely with riddles. He did not need to be told twice that there were riddles for them; he was ready. If Ic was going to be useful on this assignment whatsoever, it was going to be because he’d known something.
Ic quickly plunged a finger toward Riddle #1, intensely certain that he knew it at first glance, obvious as anything and he really wanted the extra credit. That was clearly good old joyless pal unidecimal system, he’d know those sassy little elevens anywhere— until he actually looked at it… and it wasn’t. It was… 60 off. The nice thing about the hat and the sunglasses and the sunblock and the heat was that it was difficult to determine how horribly he paled.
The sun must have been getting to him already. (Or the discussion about his stutter as a child— )
“Well,” he said, tapping 1124 with the confidence built on the toothpick stilts of only knowing how to bullshit the other way around. That is, pretending you don’t know something you do, instead of not knowing something you’re pretending to. “That’s a mixed radix, certainly. I suppose that must have some meaning to the jungle, yeah? Mixed radix, radix meaning root, roots of the flora— Landmarks?”
Or a red herring?
He peered over at the others, and (even if it was completely wrong) could see the possible interpretations in that vein of others, too. Unwilling to be any more wrong, however, he buttoned up. At least, he’d hold his theories until the rest had been spoken for. Who knows, someone else’s solution could have changed the meaning of everything entirely.
Ic had many mannerisms that were based exclusively in the aetherium of telepathy, sub-projective communication replacing “nonverbal” cues that accompanied spoken language (with which he had only the occasional dalliance). One of these such anti-telepathic expressions was a gesture akin to the brushing of a cat against one’s legs. He presumed that its intended recipient, who required no accommodation at any other time, could feel it. Evoris seemed to have been able to tell the loud and guarded things before.
“Four sounds like you might have an idea.”
You can read the post in context here.
Because I really LOVE the insight into Ic's communication methods. It gives a very interesting depth to the character, that it shows that he can communicate as well as anyone, just by means that are not the ones that most people would register as "normal". I can't love this enough.
Here's the post itself:
The harshness of the Klingon woman’s attitude toward him really should have been expected, and he probably should have just shut it, to avoid the acridity of burnt coffee that was the flavor of disdain. Should have known, but wasn’t surprised. As furtively as possible, he moved slowly to create a nice, wide margin there, thanks. Perhaps he would have been better off in the bar; he had a pretty good track record with those already.
When Evoris spoke up to include him where before it seemed he had been shunned, the ensign perked up a bit. Fortunately, or unfortunately, time would tell, the Captain had wrangled him in completely with riddles. He did not need to be told twice that there were riddles for them; he was ready. If Ic was going to be useful on this assignment whatsoever, it was going to be because he’d known something.
Ic quickly plunged a finger toward Riddle #1, intensely certain that he knew it at first glance, obvious as anything and he really wanted the extra credit. That was clearly good old joyless pal unidecimal system, he’d know those sassy little elevens anywhere— until he actually looked at it… and it wasn’t. It was… 60 off. The nice thing about the hat and the sunglasses and the sunblock and the heat was that it was difficult to determine how horribly he paled.
The sun must have been getting to him already. (Or the discussion about his stutter as a child— )
“Well,” he said, tapping 1124 with the confidence built on the toothpick stilts of only knowing how to bullshit the other way around. That is, pretending you don’t know something you do, instead of not knowing something you’re pretending to. “That’s a mixed radix, certainly. I suppose that must have some meaning to the jungle, yeah? Mixed radix, radix meaning root, roots of the flora— Landmarks?”
Or a red herring?
He peered over at the others, and (even if it was completely wrong) could see the possible interpretations in that vein of others, too. Unwilling to be any more wrong, however, he buttoned up. At least, he’d hold his theories until the rest had been spoken for. Who knows, someone else’s solution could have changed the meaning of everything entirely.
Ic had many mannerisms that were based exclusively in the aetherium of telepathy, sub-projective communication replacing “nonverbal” cues that accompanied spoken language (with which he had only the occasional dalliance). One of these such anti-telepathic expressions was a gesture akin to the brushing of a cat against one’s legs. He presumed that its intended recipient, who required no accommodation at any other time, could feel it. Evoris seemed to have been able to tell the loud and guarded things before.
“Four sounds like you might have an idea.”
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #2, by Kaya Som, is in the Mission}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[ Chief Engineer Kaya Som, Taron Lars (bio)| Beer tent ]
Oh, reader. This was who Kaya was. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself in with new people and new cultures and relish in the warmth and discomfort of the unfamiliar. It's why she joined Starfleet and why she'd been so disappointed and lost. But here, today, celebrating with the farmers, feeling like she had some small part in their success, making friends, this was what made Kaya Kaya. Charlie, Shavan, and Ensign Boom Boom had joined them. There wasn't much room for further conversation with either Jovireh or Kova, however, because the sky had begun to fall.
The tent began to empty with anything but an orderly queue. Benches were pushed over, glasses toppled on the table. A young woman was shoving breadsticks into her bag. A couple of young farmers were struggling to move a person-sized keg of untapped beer. Taron Lars, the colony's experienced and savvy director of Agriculture paid close attention to the visitors who may not know the drill.
Even as he made his orders, his expression was tainted with a resentment from the most cynical part of him - that this Starfleet crew had again brought ruin to their refuge. This didn't stop him helping of course.
"Follow Bremeni," he bellowed urging everyone out with his long thick arms. "To the caves. Don't stop."
The colonists were not stupid. They'd learned from the previous catastrophe.
Kaya he hoisted up from the floor by the elbow and all but set the swaying Trill on her feet. Her wits were thick as hassah and her efforts to put her legs in order were earnest but ineffective.
"It's fine!" she shouted to no one in particular, suddenly verbose and wise. "It's not personal! No one's trying to kill you - they're trying to kill - ow - kill everyone in general. It's fine! You can handle more than think, than you can think, thank you can! Excuse me. That's your foot."
She had stopped to look back for the other crew and for Kova. Maybe they were ahead of her. Kaya still had a cup in her hand which she'd managed, somehow, not to spill.
You can read the post in context here.
Drunk Kaya is always fun to read, but I really enjoyed the way the drunkenness mixed with her trauma here
Here's the post itself:
Oh, reader. This was who Kaya was. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself in with new people and new cultures and relish in the warmth and discomfort of the unfamiliar. It's why she joined Starfleet and why she'd been so disappointed and lost. But here, today, celebrating with the farmers, feeling like she had some small part in their success, making friends, this was what made Kaya Kaya. Charlie, Shavan, and Ensign Boom Boom had joined them. There wasn't much room for further conversation with either Jovireh or Kova, however, because the sky had begun to fall.
The tent began to empty with anything but an orderly queue. Benches were pushed over, glasses toppled on the table. A young woman was shoving breadsticks into her bag. A couple of young farmers were struggling to move a person-sized keg of untapped beer. Taron Lars, the colony's experienced and savvy director of Agriculture paid close attention to the visitors who may not know the drill.
Even as he made his orders, his expression was tainted with a resentment from the most cynical part of him - that this Starfleet crew had again brought ruin to their refuge. This didn't stop him helping of course.
"Follow Bremeni," he bellowed urging everyone out with his long thick arms. "To the caves. Don't stop."
The colonists were not stupid. They'd learned from the previous catastrophe.
Kaya he hoisted up from the floor by the elbow and all but set the swaying Trill on her feet. Her wits were thick as hassah and her efforts to put her legs in order were earnest but ineffective.
"It's fine!" she shouted to no one in particular, suddenly verbose and wise. "It's not personal! No one's trying to kill you - they're trying to kill - ow - kill everyone in general. It's fine! You can handle more than think, than you can think, thank you can! Excuse me. That's your foot."
She had stopped to look back for the other crew and for Kova. Maybe they were ahead of her. Kaya still had a cup in her hand which she'd managed, somehow, not to spill.
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #3, by Left Ear to-Ennien, is in the Mission}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Cadet Left Ear to-Ennien - Makeshift Hospital]
She had eaten so. much. food. earlier. And now it was all coming up.
Left Ear squinted up at the man who addressed her, her eyes so watery she couldn't really make him out. She thought she'd seen him in one of the booths in the town square earlier.
The vomiting was slowing to little more than strong heaves causing her body to arch and bristle. Left Ear couldn't speak when Andrus asked how she was and offered the towel, so she accepted it with a grateful nod. Holding the towel out to the side, the Sivaoan crawled away from the pile of sick and gore, further away from the Klingon, and sat against the wall, finally able to focus somewhat on what was happening in the rest of the room.
The badly injured Niles was lying on the floor. Charlie was pointing the weapon she'd picked up at the other raider, who appeared to have been incapacitated. The Klingon was staring at her as a final gush of blood left her throat.
Left Ear heaved again and started trying to wipe away some of the blood and mess from her fur, at the same time knowing it was futile. She was going to need a real bath to get all the blood out; it had soaked all the way down to her skin. A part of her mind knew she needed to shake this off and do her job, but she was frozen in the horror of the violence she'd done, shocked that she'd been capable of it.
You can read the post in context here.
Left Ear's reaction to what she had done to protect those in the hospital, showed the conflict and emotions of such actions. It also made me want to give her a hug
Here's the post itself:
[Cadet Left Ear to-Ennien - Makeshift Hospital]
She had eaten so. much. food. earlier. And now it was all coming up.
Left Ear squinted up at the man who addressed her, her eyes so watery she couldn't really make him out. She thought she'd seen him in one of the booths in the town square earlier.
The vomiting was slowing to little more than strong heaves causing her body to arch and bristle. Left Ear couldn't speak when Andrus asked how she was and offered the towel, so she accepted it with a grateful nod. Holding the towel out to the side, the Sivaoan crawled away from the pile of sick and gore, further away from the Klingon, and sat against the wall, finally able to focus somewhat on what was happening in the rest of the room.
The badly injured Niles was lying on the floor. Charlie was pointing the weapon she'd picked up at the other raider, who appeared to have been incapacitated. The Klingon was staring at her as a final gush of blood left her throat.
Left Ear heaved again and started trying to wipe away some of the blood and mess from her fur, at the same time knowing it was futile. She was going to need a real bath to get all the blood out; it had soaked all the way down to her skin. A part of her mind knew she needed to shake this off and do her job, but she was frozen in the horror of the violence she'd done, shocked that she'd been capable of it.
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #4, by Joshua Niles, is in the Mission}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[ LT Joshua Niles - Command Post, Caves, Serenity Colony ]
First Velal disagreed with him, and then clearly Quinn was less than thrilled with his notions. Of course, he had to expect that sort of things, that his motives would be questioned. The Chief was injured which meant she was not fully combat capable, and her superior expertise in ground combat made her more valuable than he was at this point. His job was to offer his best tactical advice, and as an officer he was supposed to be allocating resources the most effectively as possible... and it would seem that the Commander did not agree with him entirely either.
Though once Quinn gave his orders, Niles nodded. "Aye Sir."
As he was instructed to see weapons distributed, Niles gestured to one of the members of the Security detail. "Crewman, gather up all current-issue service weapons from your detail and get them in the hands of non-Security personnel. I'll pass mine on as well and we'll rearm from the Sheriff's small arms locker."
The Crewman in question acknowledged the order, just as Marais sent one of his deputies to the weapons locker and started distributing phaser pistols, the very last that had been issued since they had fully transitioned to the model that was known as the dustbuster in some circles. Well, it was a weapon all right, and Niles was about to withdraw his own from his shoulder holster to pass it on to Commander Quinn when the cave shook and thundered. For a moment the Lieutenant remained dumbstruck, trying to ascertain what had happened, but it was Marais who spoke up. "Doors have been breached! We're being rushed! Fire in the hole"
Then, without being instructed to, he started defending his own bolthole and he lifted a cover off of a very stereotypical red button, and he mashed it down. Once more, thunder echoed in the cave as a series of locally-produced explosive charges ldetonated in the entrance tunnel, filling the air with shrapnel and severely blunting the enemy charge... but that would only buy the defenders some time.
That had been enough to startle Niles back into action and he pressed the weapon he had come down with into Commander Quinn's hand, and he called out as he set forward to meet the enemy before they could spread through the entire cave complex. "Security, with me!"
He did not bother to check if he was being followed or if others preceded him when he headed towards the enemy. Hopefully the initial tide could be repelled, and more formal order could be established once the immediate threat would be brought under control... but all deeper thoughts left his mind before long, for he found himself in a gale of shrieking phaser- and disruptor fire. But one thing that he hadn't counted on was the savagery of the raiders as they entered the caves, rushing through the defensive fire, and before he knew it, Niles was no longer so much worried about stemming the tide as he was about keeping himself alive. One strayed close enough to him that a disruptor rifle nearly poked him in the chest and when he grasped the barrel with his prosthetic hand to point it at the ceiling, he found himself truly glad for the fact it felt no pain, for the rifle fired and the smell burning polymers from the synthetic skin that covered it filled his nostrils, before they were assaulted with that of burnt alien flesh as he delivered a single close-range blast from his own weapon into his aggressor's chest.
And then, just as he was about to open fire again, Joshua Niles felt an impact on his right leg, and he fell to the ground. Operating strictly on instinct, he tried to rise, only to fall down once more. Then, he noticed an odd feeling, that something was dragging at his trousers and when he looked, something looked unnatural about the angle of his leg, something he could not quite put a finger on as a fog seemed to descend upon his mind, but he still tried to gather himself up to get up once again.
Oddly enough, his leg wasn't answering his command to move as it should, and seemed to be longer than he remembered. However, he did not quite realize what was happening until his pants moved in such a way that he saw a very familiar calf, the upper end thoroughly cauterized, lie on the cavern floor. With that sight, that realization, the initial shock that clouded his perceptions lifted just enough for the amputation to register with him and screamed as the wave of pain and horror finally crashed over him.
You can read the post in context here.
Joshua Niles is many things, including now legless.
I thought the last portion of the post in particular reflected a certain detached horror and I really enjoyed it.
I thought the last portion of the post in particular reflected a certain detached horror and I really enjoyed it.
Here's the post itself:
First Velal disagreed with him, and then clearly Quinn was less than thrilled with his notions. Of course, he had to expect that sort of things, that his motives would be questioned. The Chief was injured which meant she was not fully combat capable, and her superior expertise in ground combat made her more valuable than he was at this point. His job was to offer his best tactical advice, and as an officer he was supposed to be allocating resources the most effectively as possible... and it would seem that the Commander did not agree with him entirely either.
Though once Quinn gave his orders, Niles nodded. "Aye Sir."
As he was instructed to see weapons distributed, Niles gestured to one of the members of the Security detail. "Crewman, gather up all current-issue service weapons from your detail and get them in the hands of non-Security personnel. I'll pass mine on as well and we'll rearm from the Sheriff's small arms locker."
The Crewman in question acknowledged the order, just as Marais sent one of his deputies to the weapons locker and started distributing phaser pistols, the very last that had been issued since they had fully transitioned to the model that was known as the dustbuster in some circles. Well, it was a weapon all right, and Niles was about to withdraw his own from his shoulder holster to pass it on to Commander Quinn when the cave shook and thundered. For a moment the Lieutenant remained dumbstruck, trying to ascertain what had happened, but it was Marais who spoke up. "Doors have been breached! We're being rushed! Fire in the hole"
Then, without being instructed to, he started defending his own bolthole and he lifted a cover off of a very stereotypical red button, and he mashed it down. Once more, thunder echoed in the cave as a series of locally-produced explosive charges ldetonated in the entrance tunnel, filling the air with shrapnel and severely blunting the enemy charge... but that would only buy the defenders some time.
That had been enough to startle Niles back into action and he pressed the weapon he had come down with into Commander Quinn's hand, and he called out as he set forward to meet the enemy before they could spread through the entire cave complex. "Security, with me!"
He did not bother to check if he was being followed or if others preceded him when he headed towards the enemy. Hopefully the initial tide could be repelled, and more formal order could be established once the immediate threat would be brought under control... but all deeper thoughts left his mind before long, for he found himself in a gale of shrieking phaser- and disruptor fire. But one thing that he hadn't counted on was the savagery of the raiders as they entered the caves, rushing through the defensive fire, and before he knew it, Niles was no longer so much worried about stemming the tide as he was about keeping himself alive. One strayed close enough to him that a disruptor rifle nearly poked him in the chest and when he grasped the barrel with his prosthetic hand to point it at the ceiling, he found himself truly glad for the fact it felt no pain, for the rifle fired and the smell burning polymers from the synthetic skin that covered it filled his nostrils, before they were assaulted with that of burnt alien flesh as he delivered a single close-range blast from his own weapon into his aggressor's chest.
And then, just as he was about to open fire again, Joshua Niles felt an impact on his right leg, and he fell to the ground. Operating strictly on instinct, he tried to rise, only to fall down once more. Then, he noticed an odd feeling, that something was dragging at his trousers and when he looked, something looked unnatural about the angle of his leg, something he could not quite put a finger on as a fog seemed to descend upon his mind, but he still tried to gather himself up to get up once again.
Oddly enough, his leg wasn't answering his command to move as it should, and seemed to be longer than he remembered. However, he did not quite realize what was happening until his pants moved in such a way that he saw a very familiar calf, the upper end thoroughly cauterized, lie on the cavern floor. With that sight, that realization, the initial shock that clouded his perceptions lifted just enough for the amputation to register with him and screamed as the wave of pain and horror finally crashed over him.
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #5, by Myker Vulbrix, is in the Mission}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Myker Vulbrix - Command Center - Serenity]
Myk listened to the response he received from Mac, assuring the Ensign he'd thank their Chief before ending the Communication, who knew if the Raiders also had reinforcements. Mac seems to be gaining the upper hand. They also gave you their thanks for breaking through. He noted, ever stoic and not really emoting, he knew it would be an advantage to have communication with the Mac open.
Of course Myker expected the no from the Trill. "Point taken"
Her pressing words had Myker shooting a glare her way, it was brief and a blink and you'll miss it sort of thing. His features falling quickly to his generic settled look. Even if things were working on his last nerve one would never know and he wouldn't react to it. "His side is losing and he's looking to not die." Myker noted, he had indeed searched the raiders mind but it didn't mean he liked being reminded it was possible nor being made to use it. It would always be his choice. He planned to keep it that way. He also decided how much he'd share.
As he was once again ordered around by their Chief, Myk resisted the urge to roll his eyes like a petulant adolescent, opting for a nod instead. He was attempting to once again shield his mind as Kaya spoke so his focus wasn't entirely on her, his own mind being assaulted by the feelings and thoughts of everyone at once, it was painful since the strong emotions seemed to be radiating out of everyone. He couldn't tell who's thoughts were who's. The static soon returned to his mind which meant he could return his full attention to the Chief.
He didn't offer a verbal response about negotiating a cease fire, he just shook his head. On the Mac or here on Serenity that was definitely not his call to make.
Their mystery raider again called through the door, Kaya quickly made up some lie and it seemed to work. Just as a voice came through the comm, thank goodness for his sober state that at least one of them could remain in contact with the rest of the Mac's crew.
Once the voice came through his comm, Myk was about to respond when Kaya ordered him once again to do something. The Betazoid simply nodded, before tapping on his comm. =/\= Ensign Vulbrix to Baker, we're in the command center. We've made contact with the Mac. There's a raider outside the door, most likely armed, apparently willing to make some kind of deal. Relieve us of him and maybe I can help with getting more information. =/\= Myk spoke into the comm. He trusted the others would manage the interrogation and he hoped they'd get what they needed but he had a special skill set that meant information could be gathered faster although there was a lot of red tape involved.
You can read the post in context here.
It's challenging to write a character who is calm and collected with depth. Snoop's way of writing Myk delighted me during this mission.
Here's the post itself:
[Myker Vulbrix - Command Center - Serenity]
Myk listened to the response he received from Mac, assuring the Ensign he'd thank their Chief before ending the Communication, who knew if the Raiders also had reinforcements. Mac seems to be gaining the upper hand. They also gave you their thanks for breaking through. He noted, ever stoic and not really emoting, he knew it would be an advantage to have communication with the Mac open.
Of course Myker expected the no from the Trill. "Point taken"
Her pressing words had Myker shooting a glare her way, it was brief and a blink and you'll miss it sort of thing. His features falling quickly to his generic settled look. Even if things were working on his last nerve one would never know and he wouldn't react to it. "His side is losing and he's looking to not die." Myker noted, he had indeed searched the raiders mind but it didn't mean he liked being reminded it was possible nor being made to use it. It would always be his choice. He planned to keep it that way. He also decided how much he'd share.
As he was once again ordered around by their Chief, Myk resisted the urge to roll his eyes like a petulant adolescent, opting for a nod instead. He was attempting to once again shield his mind as Kaya spoke so his focus wasn't entirely on her, his own mind being assaulted by the feelings and thoughts of everyone at once, it was painful since the strong emotions seemed to be radiating out of everyone. He couldn't tell who's thoughts were who's. The static soon returned to his mind which meant he could return his full attention to the Chief.
He didn't offer a verbal response about negotiating a cease fire, he just shook his head. On the Mac or here on Serenity that was definitely not his call to make.
Their mystery raider again called through the door, Kaya quickly made up some lie and it seemed to work. Just as a voice came through the comm, thank goodness for his sober state that at least one of them could remain in contact with the rest of the Mac's crew.
Once the voice came through his comm, Myk was about to respond when Kaya ordered him once again to do something. The Betazoid simply nodded, before tapping on his comm. =/\= Ensign Vulbrix to Baker, we're in the command center. We've made contact with the Mac. There's a raider outside the door, most likely armed, apparently willing to make some kind of deal. Relieve us of him and maybe I can help with getting more information. =/\= Myk spoke into the comm. He trusted the others would manage the interrogation and he hoped they'd get what they needed but he had a special skill set that meant information could be gathered faster although there was a lot of red tape involved.
You can read the post in context here.
{Submission #6, by Syl O'Connell, is in the Down-Time thread "Project: Pit Viper - Syl's Debriefing"}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[Lt. JG Syl O'Connell - Front Ear - Holosuite 7]
Syl watched in horror as the grid around her transformed into the crowded rocky prison she still saw in her dreams. For a long moment she was paralyzed, fear clawing at her chest. Why was she back here? As the Kurjarian prisoner fell, her hand flew to her throat to clutch the collar around her own neck, only for her fingertips to brush the scarred skin. This wasn't real.
But it sure looked real. A snarl curled her lips as she turned her gaze to the man who seemed utterly unaffected by the cruelty in front of him. Rather... He seemed to be enjoying himself. "What sick game are you playing?" she spat, not taking any steps to follow him deeper into the prison. This wasn't a debriefing. This was psychological torture. Her heart hammered in her chest and she took a step backward, fighting to remind herself that this wasn't real. But damn, it sure looked real. It even smelled the same. Or perhaps that was just her memories filling in the gaps...
You can read the post in context here.
Syl's visceral answer to Smoogle's kind of casual cruelty was just so well done.
Here's the post itself:
Syl watched in horror as the grid around her transformed into the crowded rocky prison she still saw in her dreams. For a long moment she was paralyzed, fear clawing at her chest. Why was she back here? As the Kurjarian prisoner fell, her hand flew to her throat to clutch the collar around her own neck, only for her fingertips to brush the scarred skin. This wasn't real.
But it sure looked real. A snarl curled her lips as she turned her gaze to the man who seemed utterly unaffected by the cruelty in front of him. Rather... He seemed to be enjoying himself. "What sick game are you playing?" she spat, not taking any steps to follow him deeper into the prison. This wasn't a debriefing. This was psychological torture. Her heart hammered in her chest and she took a step backward, fighting to remind herself that this wasn't real. But damn, it sure looked real. It even smelled the same. Or perhaps that was just her memories filling in the gaps...
You can read the post in context here.
We also have one honorable mention, for our admin Charlie Fox. Admins being admins, this is not eligible to win, but good on Flick for writing a great post!
{Submission #7, by Charlie Fox, is in the Mission}Here's what the nominator wrote:
Here's the post itself:
[O.L.S.E.N. - 35e78 96, 62n22 28]
>>> RECEIVING SUB-TRANSMISSION FROM: C.H.E.L.-E.
>>> ACKNOWELDGE SUB-TRANSMISSION > THUMBS-UP1.EMOGE
>>> ACCESS ADMINISTRATIVE SERVER > SERENITY > MAPS > CAVE SURVEY
>>> CALCULATING ROUTE...
>>> DESTINATION: 35e78 96, 62n22 27
> O.L.S.E.N. OPTIMUM SPEED 19KMPH
> KOVA-FRIEND CURRENT SPEED 0.4KMPH
>>> ADJUSTING...
>>> ESTIMATED TIME TO ARRIVAL: 7 MINUTES
>>> ARRIVED: 35e78 96, 62n22 27
>>> SCANNING...
>>>LOCATED... RUN THE TRUSTED LIST™
IDENTIFYING
IDENTIFYING
IDENTIFYING
>CAPT. THEA BAKER
>SCI - LTCMDR ISAIAH QUINN
>>>INTEL - LTCMDR MATTHEW HARMON >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
>>>ENGINEERING - SCPO KAYA SOM >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
>>>SCI - LT SHAVAN TH'ZHAAR >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
>>>FLIGHT - LTJG SYL O'CONNELL >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
>>>KOVA SH'QALEQ >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
INDENTIFIED: LTJG SYL O'CONNELL
>>> BEGIN MEDICAL SCAN
You can read the post in context here.
A+ custom gif use. This is truly a multi-media art-form.
Here's the post itself:
>>> RECEIVING SUB-TRANSMISSION FROM: C.H.E.L.-E.
>>> ACKNOWELDGE SUB-TRANSMISSION > THUMBS-UP1.EMOGE
>>> ACCESS ADMINISTRATIVE SERVER > SERENITY > MAPS > CAVE SURVEY
>>> CALCULATING ROUTE...
>>> DESTINATION: 35e78 96, 62n22 27
> O.L.S.E.N. OPTIMUM SPEED 19KMPH
> KOVA-FRIEND CURRENT SPEED 0.4KMPH
>>> ADJUSTING...
>>> ESTIMATED TIME TO ARRIVAL: 7 MINUTES
>>> ARRIVED: 35e78 96, 62n22 27
>>> SCANNING...
>>>LOCATED... RUN THE TRUSTED LIST™
IDENTIFYING
IDENTIFYING
IDENTIFYING
>
>
>>>INTEL - LTCMDR MATTHEW HARMON >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
>>>ENGINEERING - SCPO KAYA SOM >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
>>>SCI - LT SHAVAN TH'ZHAAR >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
>>>FLIGHT - LTJG SYL O'CONNELL >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
>>>KOVA SH'QALEQ >>> THE TRUSTED LIST™
INDENTIFIED: LTJG SYL O'CONNELL
>>> BEGIN MEDICAL SCAN
You can read the post in context here.
