The guests the Cortina carried were not who they claimed to be. Jaeih had suspected so from the start, and now it had been confirmed. Because of the subterfuge involved, she needed extra help keeping an eye on them. Fortunately, the Cortina was a small ship, and it carried crew that wouldn't be suspected of helping her spy on their visitors. She even had the perfect person in mind for the job.

With Haneri no longer on board, Jaeih instead looked for Emily. She'd only met the holographic doctor a small handful of times but thought Emily would be the only one working in the small sickbay. But Emily was nowhere to be found when Jaeih came into the small space. "Computer, activate the Emergency Medical Hologram."

TAG

OOC Haneri: I corrected the surname Jaeih used. As far as everyone knows, her last name is Tohrne, not Ghemor.

OOC Rehu: I am taking over the Emily Harris character now. Would you want to continue the log and rework it, or do something else? I'm open to anything.

OOC Jaeih: I wouldn't mind reworking it. We can add Rehu to it too if you'd like. ^_^

OOC Rehu: Sure we can add Rehu as well. Might be quite interesting. :)

Then:

“No…”

D’Nal tr’Rehu struggled against the two sets of hands that had firm grips on his biceps. “No… wait, this is a misunderstanding. Nothing was going on!” He growled at the two officers as he tried to pull away, their grip tightened. He looked to the man he loved, another Romulan. It was like a needle in a haystack finding S’Tejul but they had found each other. Yet, D’Nal was the one being arrested and hauled off like some criminal.

You are a criminal… by Romulan standards anyway.

His gaze met S’Tejul’s and the love, affection, and lust were gone from the dark pools. What happened between last night and now? he questioned himself. Now, the man he called lover, friend, comrade just stood there, his demeanor cold and dismissive. There was something amiss here, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. S’Tejul’s body language said a lot, and D’Nal had a feeling he was set up. But why? Who would have even thought to set him up? He knew there was witch hunts like these, he would read and watch news stories about such things.

But he never…

No…

Wait…

Sadness crashed into him as if a strong wave crashing into the shore. He finally stopped fighting, simply because he knew in his gut that it wouldn’t matter if he fought or not. He would be deemed guilty even before his court martial. He of course would get representation, well… maybe, but it didn’t matter. These trials were hardly fair, and he would be condemned.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel now. Sad, angry, hurt, betrayed, all of it? He knew there was more at work here, and he knew somehow that his father was involved. But to set him up like this? There had to be something big in it for S’Tejul to continue this charade for almost a year. More than that, they were intimate together, and even more than that, there was love. They loved each other. Right?

Yes…

Maybe…

D’Nal was certain that S’Tejul loved him. Almost a year they had been together, sharing time together, sneaking away together. The first time they gahu’yhfev, S’Tejul could have turned him in. So no, their love was real. The only thing he could think of was either A) S’Tejul was a really good actor, or B) there were real feelings there and the promotion or money was hard to pass up. No doubt S’Tejul would be given the rank of Riov and then given a command of a warbird. That would be hard to pass up. Well, hard to pass up for an ambitious Romulan. S’Tejul was ambitious, he talked about wanting more out of his military career, that he wanted to command a warbird. But, that wasn’t alarming, because most Romulans in the military were ambitious. Even he was ambitious somewhat, but he wasn’t hungry for a command or his own vessel.

D’Nal figured S’Tejul would end up getting married – that is if he wasn’t married already – and have a life that would be good. I hope his ship gets blown to pieces! he thought angrily.

“Lets go!” came the gravely voice.

“ishae’elh h’rau ARIENNYE, S’Tejul!!” D’Nal spat, he hocked up a wad of saliva, and with as much strength and force he could muster, spit. The wad of saliva landed squarely on the other man’s cheek, and at that D’Nal smirked then sneered. His last view of S’Tejul was the man wiping his saliva from his cheek, a look of disgust crossing his features.

The Next Day:

D’Nal stood in a cell. It was a cell that had clearly been an ancient one, it wasn’t well kept and it was drafty and damp. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was, but he knew it was underground. He had been stripped of his clothes earlier, poked, prodded, beaten, and violated – only after that was he given a threadbare gray jumpsuit and worn shoes. The cell had a cot, and bucket in the corner to urinate and defecate in. There was no way to wash up, which was evident by the stink that hung heavy in the air of the prison.

He was never one to give into hope; hope was for those who already knew the cause was a lost one. However, he was now at the end of his cause and now all he could do was turn to hope. In an hour he would be brought before an inquiry board, evidence would be presented of his wrongdoing, and he would be convicted. At this point, all he could hope for was to have his head separated from his body. He couldn’t live in a cell like this for the rest of his days, or in a colony for deviants. The Romulan Star Empire may have considered his lifestyle deviant, but he wasn’t a deviant. He was a Romulan, a Romulan who happen to love differently. Why was that so bad? Why were the Romulans—who were supposedly superior—come in behind even such cultures as the Vulcans when dealing with whom one loved?

D’Nal began to pace, he was starting to feel closed in and he went back and forth from one wall to the other like a caged beast. He even bared his teeth the moment two guards came to retrieve him—at blaster point mind you. He didn’t fight, hell; he didn’t even say anything he just… put one foot in front of the other. He refused to hang his head in guilt; instead he held his head high, as high as possible. He continued to hold his head high once in front of the officers who made up the inquiry. They all sat there, eight of them, at the dark wood, semi circular bench. They wore gray and maroon robes, rank insignia on the collar. All D’Nal could do was keep his gaze forward and listen and those who spoke, spoke against him. Even his own advocate didn’t speak, just asked for leniency at the end due to faithful service to the Empire.

Then one by one, each judge declared pictae and turned their backs. D’Nal swallowed hard, and despite his unflinching demeanor, his insides were screaming. He knew they would find him pictae—guilty—yet he didn’t seem prepared for it. You can wake up from this nightmare now, he pleaded with himself. Except his nightmare just continued. His punishment: Exile. Followed by being stripped of his family name. They didn’t care what he chose for a name just as long as he no longer was D’Nal tr’Rehu. His life was officially stricken from the record. His birth record, service records would all be sealed and he would no longer exist in the eyes of the Romulan Star Empire.

Now who will I be?

Again he was taken by the biceps and hauled from the courtroom, as he did so he caught the gaze of his father. For a brief moment he could see the fear, the anger, and the disappointment in the older man’s eyes. D’Nal tried to plea with his own eyes, to tell his father he was sorry, that he loved the man despite what he did.

Instead his father just looked away…

Now:

The drop out of warp had pulled Nal from his reverie. The PADD he had been holding remained on the same page that it had 20 minutes prior. It was a letter from his mother, and when he had received it he had been shocked. It had taken months for the letter to reach him, but it had reached him. There wasn’t much to the first couple of pages, just that she missed him, but on the flipside blamed herself for his ‘deviancy’ as she called it. He had only got half way through it when the memory of being caught had surfaced. For the next 20 minutes he had relived the ordeal. This particular memory had been surfacing a lot lately. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was lonely? Maybe he missed Romulus? Maybe he missed being around other Romulans? There was a part of him that doubted that. He could never truly miss the people who condemned him to exile.

He was condemned.

Condemned to a life of cargo hauler and part-time doctor and sometimes scientist. A life he wished he didn’t have, but was necessary to survive. He lived a life where people were suspicious of him. He lived a life where people thought he was a Vulcan. He lived a life where he at times felt the need to bed hop just to feel like he was needed, and wanted, but really just wanted to get off. He felt his identity slipping with each passing day, and wasn’t sure how to stop it.

With an exasperated sigh, he laid the PADD down gently on the table. There were others in the mess hall of the transport vessel, but none of the patrons had bothered to even say hello. He glanced out the viewport and watched as the stars drifted past at sub-light speeds. Soon he would be disembarking at Deep Space Nine and then onto Bajor for a meeting with a new captain. He hoped the interview went well and he would get the job, simply because he needed the work.

Nal then felt something hit the back of his head, and it dropped to the floor. He looked down to see a piece of balled up meatloaf splattered on the desk. Again he sighed, but didn’t bother to look to see who the culprit was. What did it matter anyway?

I’m condemned, he thought darkly, and all of a sudden he felt himself clinging to hope.

Desperately, and whole-heartedly clinging to hope.

Braedyn made his way to the tavern he'd arranged to meet the man he hoped would become the Juan Cortina's new physician. Haneri had been forced to leave abruptly and he had precious little time to acquire her replacement. Entering the tavern, Braedyn found a seat in a quiet corner where he could see the entire establishment and all of the patrons and had a good view of both the front and back entrances. He ordered a beer which arrived in short order and waited for his potential new crew member to arrive.

It had felt a little odd to step foot on Bajor. He had gotten a few stares, and a young man had spit at his feet, but it certainly wasn't something that surprised him. Romulans were still people who couldn't be trusted, therefore, he understood... well sort of. These Bajorans didn't know him, or that he was technically exiled, but what these particular people thought really didn't matter to him. He still had his duffle slung over his shoulder as he entered the tavern that Captain Tann had invited him too. He entered the tavern, people looked up and then went back to their drinks. He spotted the gray haired man in a quiet corner and approached.

"Captain Tann?" he queried.

Braedyn had seen the Rhiannsu man enter the bar. Even without the telltale forehead ridges, there was no mistaking him for a Vulcan, or even a Rigelian. The way he carried himself didn't fit those two cultures. No, this guy was almost definitely a Romulan.

"I'm Captain Tann," Braedyn said. He looked at the PaDD he'd brought with him. The Romulan's face matched the digital image Braedyn had. "Please, sit, Doctor Rehu. Am I pronouncing that correctly? I have a passing familiarity with both High Rihan and Romlesta but no one would call me fluent by any stretch of the imagination."

Nal lifted his duffle off his shoulder and sat it down on the floor as he took a seat across from the other man. "You are pronouncing it correctly, yes," he replied in a succinct, clear tone. He spoke basic rather fluently, so there would no need to speak his native tongue, at least at this point it was his preference. The less he had to deal with his heritage, the better. He studied the captain, taking in his features, watching his movements and subtle facial ticks. There was no indication the human was uncomfortable around him.

"So, Doctor," Braedyn said. "Normally I spend a lot of time feeling people out about who they are and what they're about. I'm going to do a little bit of that here. However, I'm pressed for time and I don't want to go through all of that just to find out you don't want the job, so let me lay it out for you. The Juan Cortina is basically a freelance special missions ship. Sometimes we haul cargo, usually either because a client is in a pinch and needs their cargo delivered ASAP, or because the cargo is in someway valuable and needs to secure transport. Just recently, we transported some ore for a client who was being threatened by an Orion Caju (corporation), a competing mining interest, with connections to the Orion Syndicate. They needed someone to give these guys a bloody nose to convince them that whatever they were trying to accomplish with their threats wasn't worth the hassle. While transporting the cargo, we did everything we could think of to make ourselves look like a tempting target. We lured the pirates the Syndicate was using to a secluded spot on the space lanes . When they attacked, we kicked their asses and sent them packing. Then we delivered the cargo and moved on to the next job. Not everything we do is so exciting. We just hauled some cargo on what was a very uneventful trip. Now we're about to haul some archaeologists to the Gamma Quadrant. There's more to it than that, but that's need to know. Until you're a member of the crew, you don't need to know."

Braedyn took a sip of his beer.

"We're based out of the Rigel System, and we'll be returning to Rigel IV regularly," he said. "I have an arrangement with a place you can sleep, eat, and bathe at while we're there. The work pays well and I cover your wages if the client stiffs us or if we take on a charity case. In general, while we'll do some simple jobs, we'll also be taking on a lot of sensitive missions for a variety of clients. To reassure you, my intent is to do some good, not become an interstellar criminal. So, does this kind of thing interest you, Doctor? Or should we go our several ways?"

Nal sat there for a few moments silent as he tapped a long index finger against the table top. He had to admit it was a lot of information to take in, but he appreciate the rundown. It wasn't like he was new to all this, to him it was nothing but a different ship with different people. "You need a doctor, and I need a job," Nal replied. "You seem like a fair man, and nothing you have told me is off putting... in fact, it all sounds fine to me." He extended a hand over the table. "Where do I sign?"

"We'll get to that," Braedyn said. "My second officer and security chief is Romulan. Is that going to be a problem?"

Nal with drew his hand and leaned back in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why would it be a problem?" he asked. He had been surprised to hear there was another Romulan that was apart of the crew, but he didn't show it. He had wondered how this other Romulan came to cross the Federation border, but felt it wasn't right to question that... yet. "I have no allegiance to the Romulan Empire anymore, Captain. My sole duty is the duty to medicine and to help others where possible. If you think I may start something or get entangled in some sort of Romulan take over plot, you are sorely mistaken."

"Oh please," Braedyn said dismissively. "Spare me the melodrama. I checked you out. I wasn't worried about that. I just wanted to make sure you didn't have a problem working with another Romulan. That's all. So, do you have any unfinished business following you around? When you join this crew, your problems become our problems. If you're in trouble, we're in trouble. So we look after each other."

Nal's upswept eyebrows furrowed. Melodrama? Really? He wasn't sure how his deadpan tone was dramatic, but he had found humans tended to see things that weren't there. "If you checked me out, you would know if there were baggage or problems that were following me around," he said. "As far as the other Romulan..." He rolled his shoulders into a shrug. "If they don't make trouble, I won't make trouble. It's really that simple." He didn't care if there was another Romulan around, the fact they would be serving on a cargo hauler just meant their predicament was probably just as dire as his own.

Braedyn's eyes narrowed.

"Look, kid," Braedyn said. "That king-sized chip on your shoulder isn't doing you any favors. All I was saying was that my crew, we look out for each other. So if you do have any problems following you around, I want to know about them so we can be prepared to deal with them. We're far more than a cargo-hauler, Doctor, so we need to have each other's backs. Here's the deal: You're a medical doctor, and I find myself in need of a medical doctor. So I'm going to hire you for this job we've taken. If it works out, I'll offer you the job for keeps. If not, we'll go our several ways. Deal?"

Braedyn offered his hand.

Kid? Nal wanted to make a face, he also wanted to slug the man but refrained. He also wondered where the 'king-sized chip on your shoulder' came from. Being blunt, even being a bit defensive, didn't mean he had a chip--let alone a king sized one--on his shoulder. He took the offered hand. "Sounds fair enough," he said as he shook the offered hand. "You have a deal."

"Great," Braedyn said. He gave the Romulan a scrap of paper with a number on it. "That's where you'll find us. We're leaving as soon as possible so finish up what business you have here on Bajor and report in. And Doctor..."

Braedyn offered a friendly smile.

"Welcome aboard," he said.

Of all the things Braedyn could be doing right at this very moment, of all the things he should be doing, paying a visit to the Brig on DS9 was not high on the list. It wasn't low on the list. In fact, it wasn't actually on the blasted list at all! But Braedyn got a call, a call from an old friend, a senior chief master-at-arms now working on DS9 as the senior Starfleet security NCO. According to the message, some kid who used to be in the Maquis, was now in the brig on DS9. The MACS thought maybe Braedyn could do the kid a solid. So, with an important mission about to get underway, here was Braedyn about to bail out some kid he'd never met. He arrived at the security office and was met by his friend, Senior Chief Master-At-Arms Zaaraa Lurthir, a female Tellarite

"Zaaraa," Braedyn said. "It's been a long time and I'd love to catch up, but I'm kinda pressed for time."

"Yeah, yeah," Zaaraa said. "Keep your pants on. The kid's back there, fourth cell on the right. His name's...Dumb Shit...Dumb Ass...Dimas! That's it! Dimas! Look, Braedyn, I told the Bajorans who you were and if you'll agree to take him, they'll release him to you. They just want him out of here."

"Alright," Braedyn said. "I'll go talk to him. No promises though."

"Understood," Zaaraa said.

Braedyn found Dimas and took a good look at him.

Dimas stood up from the bench he had been sitting on reading a PaDD that was so kindly provided to him. He was being quite cooperative albeit these people were still hell bent and solidly set into stone convinced he was a Romulan despite his best efforts to persuade and convince them otherwise. When his visitor arrived to see him, he was half expecting to see someone from his past...maybe someone he owed something to. Instead, there was a complete stranger there. The man was silver haired and studying him.

The somewhat young Mintakan looked at the man, studying him as well. "While I am grateful to finally have a visitor, I must apologize. I am not really interested in whatever it is that you want my good sir" said Dimas with a serene tone of voice as he brushed his long overhung bangs from his eyes. "You must have the wrong holding cell. I do not believe we have ever met" added the Mintakan.

"We haven't," Braedyn said. "I'm Captain Braedyn Tann, master of the SS Juan Cortina. I used to be Starfleet, with a short break to be a Maquis. That grouchy Tellarite out there thinks that you and I could possibly be of use to each other. So, what are you in for?"

Dimas glared at the Tellarite and then returned his focus onto the silver haired gentleman visiting him. "There is nothing that I could help you with, Master" he said looking at the man and studying him further. "I am NOT a Romulan. So, if you are looking for information on the Empire, I cannot assist you" he added as he retreated back to his bench and took a seat though still keeping his eyes intently on the other man, wary and cautious.

"The Maquis and I have history as well, though I rather not get into that" he said with a bit of a sigh. "Why am I here? I would love to know that as well. I could not really tell you for certain. All I know is I was busted when trying to do business with those...mmm those people with the big ears and bad teeth. I presume I'm in here because they think that I am Romulan" he explained rolling his eyes.

Braedyn chuckled.

"Ferengi," he said. "They probably figured if they could get you arrested as a spy, they wouldn't have to hold up their end of whatever deal you were making with them and then they could keep all of the profits. Oh, and 'Master' is just my civilian spacer ticket. The license that allows me to command a civilian ship. The 'Master' of a civilian ship is called 'Captain'."

Braedyn considered the man for a moment.

"No..." he said. "I met and worked with a number of Romulans over the last year of the war. There's kind of an upper limit to how pronounced their forehead ridges are. Some have less, but your ridges are far more pronounced than I've seen. And your brow ridge is larger and your eyebrows are a bit too bushy. You kind of look like some kind of prehistoric Vulcanoid. So, if you're not Romulan, what are you?"

Dimas just sat there shaking his head. "Captain, you do not have enough hours in the day to listen to my story. Believe me. I've been accused of being a Romulan more times than I'd care to admit, and that always leads to me being detained, interrogated, questioned, or if things get really exciting...people just want to shoot at my pointed ears and see my green blood smeared on the bulkheads. So, it doesn't really matter what exactly I am. Some days I am lucky enough to be Vulcan and other days not so lucky and people see Romulans where there isn't one."

"And now that we have that excrement of a male bovine out of the way, what are you?" Braedyn said. "Where are you from? What can you do? Give me something to work with and I'll get you out of here and maybe give you a job. Jerk me around, and you can rot in here for all I care. I'm busy man, so make it quick."

Oh why not thought Dimas with a bit of a shrug. "I'm Mintakan from Mintaka II. That's what I am and where I am from" he said replying to the older looking man. "I have no interest in jerking you. That's for sure" added Dimas. "I'm a trader. I trade furs and fabrics mostly, but I have been known to get my hands on a few exotic liquors."

"So you are a proto-Vulcan," Braedyn said. "How in the name of the Great Bird of the Galaxy did you even get off of that planet? If I remember correctly, your culture is still in what we call the Bronze Age."

The Mintakan scoffed. "We are or were Bronze Age" he said shaking his head. "In some ways we still very much are, but after the Federation touched are planet, things were not the same for us. Your people of course wanted to continue studying us and our progress. You opened a door and as much as you tried to shut and secure it...the door was still there. Other ships eventually passed through our system, started taking from our natural resources and we did what we could to survive. We learned to adapt. We learned that those foreign to us...the aliens liked what we had. We no longer were just trading among our villages and communities, we traded with the aliens that passed by."

"So you decided to hitch a ride off-world?" Braedyn asked.

"Stowaway" replied the Mintakan with a bit of a smile. "Not too many people are going to pick up someone who looks like a Romulan willingly. Probably in fear that they are going to end up dead if they do" added Dimas. "There are some very piss poor travelers out there. Don't do a thorough enough security check of their cargo, but when I am discovered, I usually offer my services as a way to show my gratitude."

"What services?" Braedyn asked.

Dimas looked at the Captain and raised a brow "Not that kind for starters" he said flatly. "I'm a traders of furs, fabrics, tapestries, and more. I'm a hunter, Captain. I hunt whatever beasts look like they will make a good cloak, coat, or simply a heavy cloth. I waste nothing. Bones can be made into weapons or tools, and the meat of any creature can be made to taste...palatable at the very least. Nutrition is more important than if it taste good anyways."

"Well," Braedyn said. "I'm not planning on hunting any wild animals and selling their skins, but did I hear that you might be able to make food that tastes better than what comes out of replicator?"

The Mintakan shrugged his shoulders. "You may not need me for selling fur, but if your crew is starving and our power usage is on the extreme end of conservation mode, you may want me to go hunting and bring back some food" countered Dimas. "That's the problem with you Federation types. You get so comfortable with your technology. It feeds you, it clothes you, it gives you a luxurious shelter, but when all that is ripped away from you...some of you lack the survival skills to make it. The Maquis knew how to live off the land and survive when necessary. If you want me aboard your ship, I will gladly accept. It is much better than rotting away in this menagerie."

"Don't forget, Dimas," Braedyn said. "I was Maquis, too. Okay, welcome aboard and we'll see what you make of the opportunity. Alright. I'll go fill out the paperwork and get you out of here. Sit tight and try not to piss anyone else off between now and the time I get back."

Hey, All. Here's the link to the ST: Worlds PDF. When you get into the file, type 141 into the PDF page finder thingee and you'll go straight to the Rigel System. Again, this is pretty much the Canon for the Rigel System and, among other races, the Orions. I also have a decipher book Aliens, if you want more on the Orions.

ST: Worlds

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8grD1EwYVJwZTljOGM4NTgtMWYwNC00ZDc0LWIyNzktOGI4NGVkYTFiNjU3/view?usp=sharing

Just cleaned out the chat a bit. Okay, so if you've read the mission notes for the first mission, then you know we're being hired by the Am Tal, though we won't know that. What's the Am Tal? I put the basics you need to know in the mission notes. You do not need to read up on them. HOWEVER...IF and only IF anyone feel like they want to learn more about this shadowy group that I got from LUG Andorians: Among the Clans, I'm putting a link to my drive account in here. You can always access this book or any source I put in here at your leisure for ideas or even just because you like Star Trek and like reading stuff about it.

LUG Andorians: Among the Clans:

https://www.luminpdf.com/viewer/wSjBnQ5TxWpGSM4Lg/share?sk=7a664bce-a789-46cf-82a7-27fddebd0501

Am Tal pages 76 to 80 (in the PDF page system, 75-79 in the book's page numbers)
Keth (Clans) Bottom of Page 61 to Page 67. We'll be interacting with Andorians from several clans on our first mission. Again: You Do Not HAVE to read this stuff. I'm putting it in here in case you want to read it.
Cimera III/Cimera System: Bottom of page 40 (41 in the PDF) to 41 (42 in the PDF) in case you want to know something about the first planet we're going to.

Haneri: Thanks!

Braedyn: You're welcome!

Haneri: Just out of curiosity, how long are the shifts on the bridge?

Az/Marsha: knowing Marsha, she's probably set it all up for a 30 hour day with 3 ten hour shifts.

David/Braedyn: That'll work for now. I'm not going to be too Type A about it. I might look up a ship's watch schedule (I've seen them before) and we can use that for reference. They're a bit screwy and like I said, I don't want to be really nit-picky about it, but I think we should have some idea of how watches work.

Crysta: I apologize for my recent absence. I work a very demanding job with not enough time off. As such, I do not have a steady supply of spoons to rely on.

Braedyn: Welcome to Allison who will eventually be playing our Intelligence Officer. I wrote with Allison on the USS Calypso for quite a while, and more recently on the Hera. She is a lot of fun to write with and will fit in nicely here I believe. We're working on the backstory that gets her aboard as we speak. Please make Allison feel welcome here!

Allison: Hello everyone! I look forward to writing with everyone! And I promise not to spy on EVERYONE on the ship ;)

Jon(as): Life has been the suck of late but getting back into the swing of things. Will try and keep a regular pacing.

Chris/Haneri: Welcome back, hope things get better soon!

Ray/Gaenor: Just saying this to clear things. No, Gaenor will not steal the ship. LOL. But damn she finds it tempting.

Chris/Haneri: Why did you go and ruin the surprise like that?! :(

Crysta: Struggling lately. Thyroid disease is no joke, y'all.

Ray/Gaenor: In the middle of moving from Nagoya to Kyoto. I may be a little sluggish on replies.

Crysta: Internet problem has been remedied. We've updated our data plan to unlimited (which didn't cost much more than what we were paying) and moved the wifi hotspot device from the greenhouse to the house. (It's not a modem or router, it runs on cellular data.)

Ray/Dimas: And I have been playing tour guide for a visitor this weekend, but they leave tomorrow. I'll get writing and replying to things ASAP as well as finish my character's bio and fix any errors I find.

Ez/Rehu: Hi everyone. I just wanted to introduce myself, I'm Ez and I'll be playing your new medical officer, the Romulan Nal Rehu. I look forward to coming on board and writing with everyone.

David/Braedyn: Welcome Ez! (I know I've said that already, but I figure if I say it here, maybe it'll start a trend!) Ez has agreed to take over playing Emily, so I expect her personality, such as it is, might change a bit. Ez, I'll link her to you shortly.

Allison/Shanna: Welcome Ez! I write the resident spook so if you so happen to find a listening device in your quarters, please know I didn't leave it there...on purpose? (whistles innocently)

Crysta: Apologies for recent absence. My hospital had its Joint Commission survey and I worked through all four days of it, with three of those being 13 hour days.

Ray: And I have data again so I'm back in action.

The trip through the wormhole had been uneventful, as had the trip to the Kaylon System. They ran with the weapons systems dampening field active. Marsha was able to adjust it so that any scans would show that they were armed with standard civilian defensive phasers, but all of their heavy duty weapons were concealed. The presence of the defensive phasers wouldn't look odd to any lookieloos (in fact, not having them would have seemed strange) but it would provide discouragement to anyone looking for an easy target. They hadn't detected many ships. They did detect what might have been a Jem'Hadar patrol at the extreme range of their sensors, but didn't see it after that.

Braedyn was in his command chair, Marsha was at Operations, Cara was at the helm, and Jaeih was at the tactical station as the Cortina slid silently through space towards it's destination. Gaenor was manning the Engineering station. Marsha was covering for the absence of Jonas in most areas, but Gaenor had just enough experience to monitor the bridge station. Doctor Rehu was sitting at the life support station, and Shanna, still in her guise as Bajoran spacer Amje Lana, sat at the sensor station.

"Marsha," Braedyn said. "Get on the all call and let our friends know our ETA to orbit please."

Keying the ship wide intercom, Marsha made an announcement in an upbeat and joyful tone. "Now hear this! We will be arriving at our destination in approximately fourteen minutes and should be in a stable orbit a few minutes after that. Please prepare yourselves for some archaeological excitement!" Glancing around at the others on the bridge, she grumbled under her breath. "Sorry... Old habits die hard..."

Cara couldn't help but giggle as she adjusted their heading to better enter the system and slowed their speed to impulse. "Now at impulse and beginning final approach. Captain, can we have the computer reprogrammed with Marsha's voice? That's the best announcement I've heard in years."

"Uhm, let me think about that..." Braedyn replied. "I'm going with 'no', though that was pretty funny. Lana, any sign of that patrol, or any other patrol or ships of any kind in the system?"

Shanna looked at her sensor readouts. "Not that I am picking up, but I am picking up higher than normal background radiation in the area. Doesn't appear to be a threat." Yet, her intuition as saying there was something out there as the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up--a sign she learned to trust long ago that something wasn't right.

"Keep an eye on it as we make our way from here to the planet," Braedyn said. "Also, once we're in sensor range of the planet, start scanning for Andorian lifesigns. Someone sent Thelor that message. Maybe we can get the 'Rescue Marooned Andorian Xenoarchaeologists' achievement."

At that moment Thelor entered the bridge, followed by the ever present Hahna 'Aldin', xenoarchaeology grad student (AKA Hahna Kor, Andorian socialite who thinks she's a terrorist).

"Welcome to the Kaylon system, folks," Braedyn said. "As soon as we get close enough to do a proper scan, we're going to make a few passes and try scanning for the previous expedition, just to be sure. Then we'll make planetfall and you can get to work."

"There is no need for you to land, Captain," Hahna said. "I'm sure we can take care of ourselves."

"Well, nonetheless," Braedyn said. "I'm going to give my crew a chance to stretch their legs. With such a small crew, the best way for me to do that is to land, so that's what I'm doing. And I have to give the ship's cook a chance to look around for exotic foods he can cook up...and hopefully not poison us all as a result. Besides, we want to see this important find that brought us all out here."

Hahna looked like she was going to say something, but stopped when Thelor put a hand on her arm. She scowled at Thelor in response.

"Fine, Captain," she said. "Do as you must. Just try and stay out of our way!"

Hahna climbed down the ladder to the lower decks. Thelor smiled sheepishly.

"You'll have to forgive her," he said. "She's rather...high spirited. I'm just going to go and make sure everyone will be ready when the time comes."

Thelor followed after Hahna.

Yep, Hahna is definitely the one in charge. Something tells me Thelor is sleeping alone tonight.

"If I have to say this," Braedyn said. "Once we're down there, no one goes anywhere unarmed. If you don't have your own weapon, sign out one of the pistols from the armory. Hell, take a carbine or a rifle if the mood suits you. And everyone carries a comm unit. Gaenor, did you have time to check Dimas out on our small arms? If things get ugly, I'd like him to be armed with more than a sling-shot."

The Nausicaan glared at the Captain. "And with smartass comments like that, David used his sling-shot and brought down the great Goliath of Gath" the woman said crossing her arms. "The proto Vulcan is more than capable of picking up a phaser and pressing the correct button. So, the short answer would be yes, Sir. Your pots and pans Neanderthal is trained" she added tongue and cheek.

Braedyn laughed.

"I got it, I got it," he said. "Don't judge a book by its cover. Point taken. Score one for the Nausicaan lady holding down the engineering station. Lana, are we within range to start scanning for survivors from the original expedition?"

Atmospheric flight. Again. That was the one part about working on the Cortina that Jaeih still hadn't gotten used to and the one thing she rarely looked forward to, even if it did mean a chance to experience some sunlight for a while. That thought, she kept to herself, but she couldn't help quietly snickering at the conversation between Gaenor and Braedyn about Dimas, their new Mintakan cook. Even being a non-citizen of the Federation, she'd eventually heard the story of the scientists who had accidentally exposed Mintaka III to Federation technology and the additional exposure to the crew of the Enterprise.

Lana tapped a few controls, activating the sensor array and commanding it to look for the designated target. We're entering range now and am beginning scans of the last known position of the team."

Braedyn frowned. Hahna and her pet xenoarchaeology professor had left the bridge without even waiting to see if anything was to be found. Thelor was probably just being absentminded. Hahna, though, she was just a bitch with cold heart. He fed some coordinates into the computer in the arms of his command chair.

"Lana," Braedyn said. "I've just sent you some coordinates. Try looking in that area. The ruins the previous group was supposed to be investigating were supposedly in that area."

Lana received the info and she fed the coordinates into the computer. The ship directed it's sensors towards the area and began to feed Lana's screen with it's discovered information. She was silent as she deciphered the information. "Well this is odd..." she mentioned as she tapped more commands into the computer to bring more deciphering computers online. "Picking up some Thoron Radiation in the area. The levels aren't dangerous to us but they're playing havoc with the sensors. I'm picking up sensor ghosts all over the place."

"Okay," Braedyn said. He hit a control on his chair. "Doctor Rehu, please come to the bridge. And while we're waiting for him, and before we ask our guests and have them feed us a steaming, heaping, pile of crap, does anyone have an explanation as to why there would be thoron radiation at the site of these supposed 'ruins'?"

"It does occur naturally as part of the breakdown of the periodic element Thorium. Otherwise, it is likely to be intentional interference, though I would not know who or why." Jaeih wasn't sure if there was natural thorium on the planet or not, but the element occurred in nature on several planetary bodies.

"Hmm..." Braedyn said. "Alright, Cara. Find us a nice place to set down near the sight of the so-called ruins and put us there, gently if possible."

"Gently it is. Aye, Captain." Cara was the best pilot in the galaxy as far as she was concerned, but even she was worried about the turbulence in the atmosphere she was picking up on her navigational sensors. That just meant she had to take it... ugh... slower than usual... "I'm reading some higher than usual ionic buildup in the ionosphere so I'll be closing the plasma vents during planetary descent. Artificial gravity might feel a bit heavy during the transition. Also, the closest clearing our ship will fit in that I'm seeing is about two miles away. There's a perfectly good landing pad next to them, but it's currently occupied by either a lot of gear or enough parts to build a shuttle or two." Semi-standard reporting, but at least there were some interesting little tidbits in there. She then began their approach, as smoothly as she could, cranking the inertial dampeners up to 120% to try to spare the crew any possible queasiness. Thankfully it all passed quickly enough and soon she was making a landing approach and setting down in the midst of a lovely bunch of purplish green trees.

Even with Cara being extraordinarily careful, Jaeih made a face and pressed her hand against her belly as the ship made its way down. To her, the ride felt rather bumpy and very much not fun, but no one else seemed to mind. Once the Cortina settled on the ground, she breathed a quick sigh of relief, making a mental note to speak to their new doctor about some sort of management for these situations.

"Alright," Braedyn said. "Let's get our guests unpacked and see where this leads."

Below Decks - Medical Bay

Doctor Nal Rehu placed a medical kit on a biobed and opened it. It had contained all the standard equipment, the same standard equipment that would be found on any Starfleet or Romulan vessel. Something’s were just universal in that regard. He checked the medical tricorder to be sure it was calibrated, closed it up and placed it back into the kit. The hypo dispenser was in operating order, and the vials of medication were current--as in not expired. There was a PADD and even some supplies like gauze and bandages for quick triage. There was also room for anything he wanted to collect. The buzz going around the Juan Cortina was not infectious, at least not to him. He was mostly indifferent to this assignment, it was a job, and if he was needed he would be needed. However, he also was glad to do a little bit of exploring as well. Maybe he wasn't as indifferent as he thought. He shrugged at his own thoughts.