There are 5 messages in this issue.
Topics in this digest:
1. [USS Capricorn] Intruder Alert Response (Fwd for Rob)
From: "Tree Deutscher" <treedr@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
2. [DL-W] Duh
From: Joshua Sample <jsample9685@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
3. [USS Capricorn] Making With Friends
From: Scott Huckaby <tyger30@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
4. USS CAPRICORN: Out of the Woodwork
From: "Brian H Davidson" <briandavidson@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
5. [DL-D] The Attack!
From: raemonda carris <sorceressniana@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
________________________________________________________________________
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Message: 1
Date: Thu, 10 Nov 2005 09:34:02 -0800
From: "Tree Deutscher" <treedr@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [USS Capricorn] Intruder Alert Response (Fwd for Rob)
----- Original Message -----
From: akora_starfleet
To: uss-capricorn@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
Thursday, November 10, 2005 8:04 AM
Subject: Intruder Alert Response
MD 6 : 1330
"We need to get her to sickbay." Andrew told the security officer. The
officer nodded and called in a need for a medical trans****t.
TAG- Open to any who would respond to an intruder alert and breach of
security.
As Andrew gathered Miaren to himself, the Security Crewman again tapped
his communicator.
"This is Crewman Biggs." His voice was patched over the intercom
within the confines of deck five. "I repeat, we have a possible
intruder alert on deck five, at the CMO's cabin. Alert the SAT, BAF
and Reserve Force."
"This is not a drill. Deck five is now under quarantine." A response
came from the intercoms as ****p's computer complied with the emergency
directive. "All personnel are required to remain at their current
station until the situation is resolved. Containment fields in zone
alpha, are now active. All turbo lifts are secured, except to Security
Personnel and Emergency Medical Response Teams. This is not a drill."
"Medical. This is Crewman Biggs." The young man again spoke, taking a
step closer to the two officers and turning his attention to the woman.
"Doctor Hywell appears to have lost consciousness. No immediate sign
of injury is apparent. Breathing appears regular, but
I request emergency medical response immediately."
The sound of boots pounding on the deck outside heralded the arrival of
a security team. They took up position at the doorway, communicating
to one another over secure voice link. Only after assuring that there
was no imminent threat present did the NCO in charge remove his helmet,
revealing the deep blue skin and white hair of an Andorian. His
antenna ****vered slightly as they came free.
"We are secure here." He re****ted over his comm. "Send in the EMT."
Multiple humms filled the air as three medical technicians with a
****table diagnostic unit trans****ted in. The men were equipped with
body armor, though not as bulky as that worn by the security team and
without helmets on their heads. Two humans and a pink skinned
Thallasian took a moment to collect their bearings after the trans****t
and then immediately moved towards Andrew and the unconscious doctor.
"I have her now." One said to him, gently but firmly reliving Andrew
of her body. One of the others opened the case of his equipment while
the third assisted the first in taking vital sign readings and checking
the doctor for injury.
"Biggs." The Andorian commanded. "Re****t."
"Aye." The crewman came to attention. "On routine patrol of Deck Five
I noticed the CMO's cabin door to be open. Moving closer to determine
if her hatch were jammed and in need of a technical call, I then heard
a cry."
"Cry?" The NCO interrupted.
"Ummm.. Not exactly a shout, but a loud, if inarticulate sound of
distressful nature." Biggs shrugged and continued. "Moving to the
entrance I noted that Doctor Hywell was upright and mobile, but in an
apparently somnambulate state."
"Sleep walking." The Thallasian provided before the Andorian could
ask.
"Umm, more like dancing, but yeah." Biggs said. "Then he arrived."
Biggs pointed at Andrew. "She collapsed, I called an alert and that is
all."
Moran came strolling in from the Hallway, having heard the entire
discussion via relay through the NCO's communicator.
"Computer." He demanded. "Results of Intruder Alert Scan."
"There are no unaccounted for biological signatures within confines of
USS Capricorn. All personnel are currently present and accounted for."
The computer responded. "No intruder or alien presence is detected."
"This is Lieutenant Moran Orgola of Security." He stated, keying his
own comm badge so that it sounded over the intercom for the deck. "I
am not under duress. Stand down the intruder alert. I say again,
stand down the intruder alert. SAT and BAF re****t to Security for
debriefing. Reserve Force, maintain position and assist Emergency
Medical Response Team."
"Sir. I." Biggs began.
"End Intruder Alert." The computer spoke over the ****p's intercom.
"Normal movement is now restored throughout the ****p.
"Stand easy, Crewman." Moran told him. "You over reacted, I will
admit, but as the great Kolath of the Klingon Third Age once said,
better a knife too sharp than armor bloodied and a heart stilled."
"Sir?"
"An error on the side of caution is always better than an error that
causes a death." Moran explained. "It was a good exercise, and with
the various passengers we do have on board, perhaps a nice bit of
preventive maintenance. Letting them know we are serious about
protecting our personnel might prevent later . " He paused, and gave
a half smile. ".misunderstandings."
"Sir." One of the EMTs spoke up. "We are ready to trans****t Doctor
Hywell to Sick Bay." His companions and two of the security team were
assembling a stretcher.
"Not trans****ting?" Moran asked.
"No sir." He answered. "Her loss of consciousness is still without
source. As there is not a physical threat and without further signs of
injury to give cause for emergency trans****t, I feel it safer to
trans****t the patient physically."
"Very well." Moran nodded to them. "Carry on."
"You." Moran chose one of the other members of the security team.
"Assume Crewman Bigg's rounds, the rest of you accompany me to debrief.
I'm sure Lieutenant Rogan will have something to say about this
matter."
Tags @[EMAIL PROTECTED]
Ury if he wants to talk to his peeps and anyone at medical who
wants to actually do the processing for the Doc.
OOC:
Apologies for any toes I may have stepped on, I just had a thought on
how to answer the tag and waited as long as I could before posting.
Also, stated time was "Afternoon" which I just made 1330 because I
wanted to nail it down a lil. If you meant later, just let me know
what it should be changed to.
Minor quibble with your post. Only a ****p's Captain or Chief Security
Officer has the authority to call for "all security personnel" after
all. Maybe the XO or some department heads, but certainly not nameless
junior security guy.
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Message: 2
Date: Thu, 10 Nov 2005 11:03:58 -0800 (PST)
From: Joshua Sample <jsample9685@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [DL-W] Duh
Day 18, Morning
-Snip-
The young man looked up at the large queen in a bit of awe as she
landed, and in surprise at the petite woman who dismounted. "We've
been looking for you!" Merissa smiled. "You wouldn't by any chance
hear a 'voice' in your head, would you?"
-End Snip-
Matt took a step back as the huge gueen settled down and watched as the
small woman came closer to Matt.
"Huh? Are you asking if I am going crazy?" He said incredulously. "I
don't hear voices... well, not like that. I have always had a little
voice in the back of my head... well, atleast, it started a couple of
weeks ago. But th... ok, if you get down to it, yes, I really am
hearing voices... well actually, more like a voice. It comes and goes,
but I just thought I was imagining it."
He just then saw the other dragons, all who seemed to be staring at
him. He turned in a circle and saw that all the dragons in the valley
were turned and staring at him, as well as most of the people.
"Uh, am I being arrested? I have not stolen anything, honest."
(NRPG)- Yes I know it's short, just moving the plot line along. Tag
Arlene.
-------------------------------
Summary- Matt gets 'ambushed' by the warren and is forced to use his
brain.
Respectfully Submitted by
Josh Sample
AKA
Matt
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Message: 3
Date: Thu, 10 Nov 2005 11:48:56 -0800 (PST)
From: Scott Huckaby <tyger30@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [USS Capricorn] Making With Friends
Scene:
Deep Space 5
Ensign Rico Medina was walking around the Promenade on Deep Space 5
awaiting his next assignment. He made it a point to stop at Baylor's
Pets mainly because the owner was so friendly. Rico caught himself
stopping to look at kittens. He loved cats and these fluffy little
kittens in particular. He eyed one of the kittens who was watching him.
He reached out his hands to pick the tiny animal up and the kitten
shrunk back away from Rico's hand. When Rico got his hand around the
kitten, it hissed at him and he knew this was destined to be his pet.
Picking the kitten up, had a name already picked out for him; Rex was
to be the kitten's name. The kitten began to purr as he cuddled it to
his chest.
"Mr, Mook, I'll take this one," Rico said to the shopkeeper.
"Excellent choice, Ensign. He obviously loves you. Look at him sleep in
your arms."
"Do you have any other choices? A bit more exotic, perhaps?"
"What exactly are you looking for?"
"How about a ferret?
"Ah, yes. I have something especially for you. Here," the Bolian said
as he walked over to the ferret pin. Reaching in, he picked up an
albino ferret cub and presented to the ensign.
"I love it. But how will my kitten react to this weasel?"
"As they are both very young, they will get along quite well. Trust me,
your kitten and kit will be the fastest of friends."
"Okay then, thank you, Mr. Mook." Just then his combadge chirped and a
voice issued from it. "Ensign Medina, re****t to Admiral Keeshawn's
office."
"Aye, sir. Have then delivered to my quarters if you would," Rico said
handing the kitten over to the Bolian.
"Of course, Ensign. Good luck!" he called to Ensign Medina
Scene:
USS Capricorn
MD 6: 0900
As Ensign Medina was seated at his new post, he found himself wi****ng
he was still a pilot. He enjoyed the feeling of power that he received
from piloting a star****p. He had filled in as helm officer on the
Odyssey a few times. He missed that ****p and his friends but, he was
bound to make new friends on this ****p if he only gave himself a
chance.
Medina caught himself looking over at the helm more often than he cared
for. Ensign Wilcox was a helm officer and a good officer. He thought
about something; flight control re****ted to operations. He wondered how
he was going to take having superior officers re****ting to him.
"Commander Phillips, may I ask you a question?" he asked.
"Of course, Ensign. What is it?"
"I know there were higher ranked officers in line for this post. I was
wondering how I would go about my job with those officers serving under
me."
"You're the operations manager now, Ensign Medina. It will be your job
to command your department as a department head. Older officers, higher
ranked officers are part and parcel of being a senior fficer. Have you
picked your staff yet?"
"My staff yet? I don't understand."
"Commander Dernah left that job to his successor to name his or her own
staff. I'm not sure what positions are filled but I do know your
assitant is one of them," Montana said.
"When should I fill the positions?" he asked.
"Whenever you get around to it, Ensign. You can call up the list on you
console and get right to it, if you desire."
"Thank you, Commander. I will get right on it."
Respctfully submitted
Scott Huckaby
AKA
Ensign Rico Medina
Operations Manager
USS Capricorn
NRPG: Josh, I want to apologize to you for not getting my post out when
I told you I would. We had a major crisis in the house. Also I can't
wait to see how Rico and Avi get along together. He can be a little bit
arrogant when the time presents himself.
All: Here he is. Feel free to interact with Rico how you want to. He's
a very likeably fellow and needs all the encouragement he can get. And
if any of you want to do a JP, just let me know. I look forward to
writing with you in the near future.
Timeline:
Flashback: Rico picks out his pets on Deep Space 5.
MD 6: 0900 Rico wishes he was a pilot again and has a little chat with
the XO.
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Message: 4
Date: Thu, 10 Nov 2005 19:25:03 -0500
From: "Brian H Davidson" <briandavidson@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: USS CAPRICORN: Out of the Woodwork
Old Mission Day 6/New Mission Day 1
1845 hours, Capricorn ****p's Time
Aboard the Starfleet Personnel Trans****t USS PALOMAR
Piotr paced rapidly up and down the aisle of the trans****t,
playing up his adopted persona. "Lt. Cmdr. Peter Ilych Dudikov" was a
somewhat nervous and impatient sort, eager to get on with his
assignment to upgrade the library computer and data retrieval systems
aboard the CAPRICORN. He was one member of a six-man team assigned by
Starfleet Operations to this ****p, for various upgrades and
inspections.
He looked the part of the librarian, having taken special care to
suit his appearance to the job at hand. Slim, and with a slightly
stooped posture, he stood about two inches shorter than his full 5'11",
and had had his uniforms specially tailored so as to make him look more
frail than he was in truth. Slightly greying brown hair in perfect
regulation cut framed a throughly average and unremarkable face, with
dark brown eyes and thin, tightly pressed lips. The carefully crafted
appearance and mannerisms were intended to present an aura of blandness
and efficiency, that of a faceless functionary among many such in
Starfleet's sup****t divisions. His personnel files, orders and
do***ents were similarly well-crafted and nearly impossible to crack
without some serious work and friends in sensitive places.
His appearance could not be much further from the truth, however.
Piotr Dvorak worked for a part of Starfleet that most people, even most
of the Admiralty, didn't even know existed. Those that did would be
quick to deny it, as well. It would not be good for word to get out
that the vaunted and highly ethical Starfleet actually employed an
Espionage Division.
Worse yet, they were only one of several such groups, albeit the
only one of these with actual official status. Others such as Omega and
Section 31 were unoffical "splinter" groups within the larger
organization of Starfleet and SFIA. Piotr and his compatriots, in both
SFED and SFIA, would be more than happy to be rid of these others, if
only they could reliably identify their agents. In fact, SFIA actually
believed they had eliminated Section 31 in the purge of last year, but
Piotr was fairly certain that they were still skulking about. They were
nothing if not careful.
SFED was the darker counterpart to SFIA, the Intelligence arm
whose public image had taken a severe beating over recent years. They
had been created under the same provision as Section 31, but with
official approval coupled with somewhat greater restrictions, Despite
the truly despicable behavior of some of SFIA's agents, Piotr was
fairly certain that the image was encouraged, to at least some extent,
by those high up in the organization. SFED certainly didn't mind the
negative publicity her sister agency got either; as long as people were
focused on looking for SFIA spooks to hate, they'd be thinking less
about the posibility of other "dark" groups within the fleet.
And dark they might well be in his service, but there was no doubt
in Piotr's mind that he worked on the side of the Angels. SFED were the
good guys, their mandate to protect Starfleet and the Federation from
her enemies and rivals who were untouchable by conventional means. It
was SFED's job to see that the plans of such groups as the Romulans,
Breen, and Kzinti were foiled. Agents would use any means at their
disposal to infiltrate, influence, or when necessary, eliminate rival
groups. While their methods might be
morally suspect at times, SFED's agents were sought out for their
strict ethical codes and dedication, the willingness to do whatever it
took to safeguard their charges, but to use only what force and means
were necessary. SFED agents were rarely if ever accused of
overkill.
Piotr himself was something of an oddity within the organization,
not so much in his methods and contacts, but in his job. Whereas most
SFED people were constantly out in the field, behind enemy lines, he
remained within Federation space, keeping constant watch for trouble
from within. Cmdr. Dvorak was SFED's head of Counter-Intelligence, and
third in command of the division, under Branch Admiral Luis Palejo
(officially retired but still running
things in secret) and Captain Zahn T'Vel. He moved from ****p to station
to outpost to planet, evaluating informational security and identifying
potential targets for enemy influence. He tried to find and neutralize
enemy agents within Starfleet, sometimes even before they had actually
become aware that they were working for someone else.
He did not have any direct suspicions of anyone aboard the
CAPRICORN at this time, but he'd form more concrete appraisals after
meeting the crew and spending some time among them. There really wasn't
a lot he could learn from computer files, and besides, there
were others whose job it was to sift through such data looking for
telltales. No, Piotr was a people person. He got up close and personal
with his marks, learning *who* they were, rather than *what*. His
skills and instincts were sharp, and he had uncovered several officers
who had fallen victim to bribery, blackmail, or other outside
influence.
Mostly, these were decent men and women who had made one or two
small mistakes. But that was exactly the kind of thing that covert
operatives looked to exploit. Operatives very much like his own SFED
compatriots.
Not at all like his current traveling companions.
All told, there were ten of them aboard the trans****t. The pilot,
of course, plus five other OPS people in his own party, three
replacement crewmembers for the CAPRICORN, and one "supercargo", who
had thus far remained silent for the whole three day trip. He began
to review what he knew about each of them, just to keep his mind sharp
and focused.
First, the commander of his group, Cmdr. Valex. She was Vulcan, a
career Operations officer specializing in computer administration. Cool
and efficient, with the black hair and aristocratic features typical in
about 95% of her race, Valex had been ordered to give him
free rein, as he was on a secret mission for the Admiralty. That was
it; she had been told nothing more, but was trustworthy and would obey.
She had, however, insisted that he properly perform his cover function
and install the hardware upgrades they had been given. This would not
be a problem; in fact, it would greatly aid in his survey, as it would
require he have access to every single crew quarters on the ****p. Valex
herself would be handling the upgrades to the main and secondary
computer cores.
Next was Lt. Morris, the replicator specialist. He would be in
charge of a pleasant surprise for the crew: a completely new food menu,
including many never-before-available local delicacies from the newer
Federation worlds. Morris was an amateur chef as well, though he looked
more like a wrestler, long-limbed and muscular. Piotr knew he was even
stronger than he looked, having been born and raised on a heavy-gravity
world. He had dark blue eyes and an iron grey crew cut, though the
color was probably hereditary, as he was
only in his early thirties.
Ensign Passegarre was their Personnel clerk. She was there to
confer with the Captain and Exec about staffing needs and crew resource
allocation. A tiny woman, standing barely four feet, she was
nonetheless quite attractive and vivacious. She was blonde, and kept
her hair long but wore it up in a pony wrap when on duty. Her eyes were
hazel and sparkled with barely-repressed mirth at all times. Piotr
guessed that it was overcompensation for something, but was not sure
what. It could well have sprung from whatever also made her a crack
shot. She had finished second in her Academy class at marksman****p,
beating out all but one Security specialist.
Then there was Lt<jg>. Boz, a Tellarite. Strictly speaking, he was
not a technician like the rest of them. Boz was a courier, carrying a
set of chips with a full set of new security passcodes and encryption
schemes. Such sensitive information was never broadcast,
even over supposedly secure channels, just in case. The box in which
the chips were held was secured with a set of three DNA biometric
locks, set for the specific genetic patterns of himself, Captain
Reckage, and Commander Phillips. It could not be opened (short of
destroying its contents) without a genetic sample from each of the
three. Boz himself was of average height and build for his race, which
put him at 5'9" and a stocky 240 or so pounds. Those tusks looked
nasty, but they were never used in combat. Tellarites had sensitive
jaws, and any sharp impact to the mouth was quite painful to them.
The last member of their team was Ensign Mutaba, a very tall black
man who, in an earlier age, might have been a professional basketball
player. He stood a couple of inches under seven feet, with tightly
kinked black hair and brown eyes. Mutaba was in charge of the
medical and engineering database updates. He was also a very talented
jazz musician, playing several instruments with proficiency.
Piotr was just about to move on to the transfer officers when his
concentration was interrupted by their "supercargo" passenger, who
reached out and backhanded him on the upper arm as he paced by the
man's seat.
"Will you sit down, dammit," the man said angrily. "You're not
going to get us there any faster pacing like that!"
"Sorry, Admiral," Piotr/Peter replied meekly, and turned to head
back to his seat.
"Not Admiral any longer, Commander," Percy Witherspoon said with a
snort. "Not any longer."
"Still, sir," the SFED agent said, half-turning back toward the
older man, "it IS traditional to use the rank in address, as a show of
respect. My apologies if I offended you in some way."
The former Admiral sneered. "Thank you for the lesson in protocol,
Commander. Now leave me alone and sit down."
Piotr did as he was instructed, and sat in silence for half an
hour, until the pilot announced that they had arrived at the CAPRICORN.
* * *
"We're being hailed, Captain," the new OPS officer, Ensign Rico,
announced. He had already informed Avi of the trans****t's dropout into
normal space.
"On screen, Ensign," the CO replied, puzzled by the sudden
unannounced arrival.
"USS PALOMAR, Chief Martin Lebowsky speaking."
"Welcome to our side of the galaxy, Chief. I'm Captain Avi Reckage
of the USS CAPRICORN," Avi said, standing up.
"Thank you, Captain. I have ten people to be trans****ted over,
three replacement crew, a six-person OPS team, and one supercargo."
"Thank you, Chief. Do you want to come aboard? We have a day
before we ****p out."
"No thanks, sir. I need to get to base for maintenance."
"Understood. Trans****t them over. You should be getting
instructions momentarily."
"Thanks again, sir. PALOMAR out!"
Once the pilot had signed off, Avi turned to his Security Chief.
"Mister Rogan, take a party to greet our new staff and guests." Even as
he spoke, he was trying to figure out why they hadn't gotten word in
advance about the OPS team.
"Aye, sir," Ury replied. He signaled to one of the backup Security
officers to take over at Tactical, and headed for the turbolift, bound
for Trans****ter Room three. He tapped his commbadge and called for a
small detail to join him there.
Back aboard the PALOMAR, Piotr and the others were preparing to
beam over to the CAPRICORN. Commander Valex double-checked to ensure
that her team had all of their hardware and tools, then nodded to
Mutaba, who set the controls and joined the rest of them on the
platform. Ten figures sparkled and dissolved into nothingness, leaving
only the pilot alone aboard the vessel. Once he had confirmed their
safe arrival aboard the CAPRICORN, he guided his craft back into warp,
headed to Starbase 514 for recharge and resupply.
-Brian Davidson, aka
Cmdr. Piotr Dvorak
undercover as Lt.Cmdr. Peter Dudikov
Summary
MD6/1, 1845: Piotr paces aboard the trans****t and reviews basic
information about his OPS team, which is his cover for investigating
the CAP crew for possible security leaks.
1920: Trans****t arrives at CAPRICORN's location, surprising one and
all.
1930: OPS team and replacement crew beam aboard, with former Admiral
Witherspoon, to be greeted by Lt. Rogan and team in TR3.
New NPCs:
Admiral (ret) Percy Witherspoon (protected, Josh) (human male)
Cmdr. Valex, OPS upgrade/inspection team leader (Vulcan female)
Lt. Casper Morris, replicator specialist (human variant, male)
Esn. Lorraine Passegarre, personnel specialist (human female)
Lt<jg>. Boz, courier (Tellarite male)
Esn. Harv Mutaba, med/eng database specialist (human male)
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Message: 5
Date: Fri, 11 Nov 2005 00:21:27 -0800 (PST)
From: raemonda carris <sorceressniana@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [DL-D] The Attack!
[DL-D]
Day 130
ShyMela's Home
Early Evening
Just outside Daere Warren, on a small farm, lived a family of
six.
ShyMela, barely sixteen, lived with her parents and three siblings.
At a very early age, ShyMela learned to keep secrets, for fear of
being teased and ridiculed by others.
So, when she learned that she had the ability to speak
telepathically with any dragon, ShyMela began dreaming of becoming a
dragonrider.
ShyMela tried telling her parents of her dreams and her new found
ability, they became very angry with her and forbade her from speaking
of her dreams and of talking with the dragons ever again, without
giving her a reason why.
ShyMela stopped talking to dragons, almost as quick as she began,
but that didn't stop her siblings from teasing and ridiculing her
almost daily.
A few days after turning sixteen, ShyMela sat in their small
garden, just outside their kitchen, reading a book. It was early
evening, the sun had already started sinking past the horizon.
Closing her book, ShyMela let out a long sigh, as she stood and
walked into the kitchen.
As she stepped into the kitchen, ShyMela heard a commotion and
screams coming from the next room.
ShyMela quickly crossed the room and peeked into the next room.
ShyMela let out a small gasp, wanting to scream, but was too
frightened to. Her parents and two brothers laid upon the floor,
covered in blood. They were dead, all of them! Four hideous creatures
stood looming over their maimed and bloody bodies. Her sister was no
where to be seen.
Backing away from the door, them scrambling to the pantry where
ShyMela hid. ShyMela weeped silently for fear of those creatures
finding her and killing her, also.
"I hope Cheynar escaped those hideous creatures and is safe",
ShyMela thought as she remembered that she didn't see her sister among
the bodies in the next room.
ShyMela cried herself to sleep, only to be awakened from the
nightmare of seeing her family lying dead upon the floor, while those
creatures loomed over their kills.
ShyMela had no idea of how long she had been asleep or how long she
sat in that pantry, only that it was dark in there.
Remembering her childhood ability of being able to telepathically
speak to dragons, she decided to try calling a dragon for help.
Not knowing if it would work, ShyMela had to try, atleast, for the
sake of her own life along with Cheynar's life, if she still lived.
ShyMela was clearly surprised when she made contact with a dragon.
The dragon introduced himself as Flerrion, his rider is T'rell.
Giving a quick explanation of her family being killed by four
hideous creatures.
Flerrion told her to stay where she was, until they made sure it
was safe for her to come out.
In a short time, ShyMela heard a noise on the other side of the
pantry door, but before she could think of being afraid, a calming
voice came in her head to tell her it was safe and that T'rell was
inside now.
Just then, the door came opened, revealing a muscular, fairly tall
man with dark blonde hair and blue eyes.
Holding out his hand and telling her telepathically that she is
safe now.
As ShyMela heard the man's voice in her mind, she was thoroughly
shocked, not realizing that her telepathic abilities extended to
humans, who are telepathic, too.
Taking his hand without a word, he led her out the kitchen door,
and through the small garden.
A crimson dragon stood, patiently waiting for them, just a little
ways off.
T'rell helped ShyMela up onto Flerrion's back, then climbed up in
front of her. Then told her to hang on tight, and that it won't take
too long before they will arrive at the Warren.
The dragon leaped into the night sky.
As soon as they had landed at Daere Warren, ShyMela was ushered off
to the Medical Center.
Despite being a little shaken up, she was given a clean bill of
health, but needed a couple days of rest.
A nurse had ordered for a tray of food be brought to the Medical
Center, then led ShyMela off to a room where she could bathe and change
into clean clothes.
The pleasantly, perfumed water looked inviting. Steam still rose
from the surface of the water.
ShyMela quickly stripped her clothing off and slowly stepped into
the warm water, sinking down until the water was level with her chin.
ShyMela's tensed muscles began relaxing after some time.
The nurse returned with clean clothes and a brush for her hair,
leaving them on the small round table next to ShyMela, she picked up
and turned to go, but stopped as if remembering something.
She turned back to ShyMela and told her that as soon as she was
ready, there were people waiting to speak to her, then she left ShyMela
alone.
ShyMela sighed, she really didn't want to tell her story tonight,
she just wanted to sleep.
ShyMela reluctantly climbed out of the warm bath, dried herself
off, then dried her hair and slowly dressed in a white blouse and navy
blue skirt.
ShyMela, then picked up the brush and brushed out her long black
curls.
When she had finished, ShyMela left the room, and went to see who
waited to see her.
As she walked into the next room, two women sat in chair talking
to each other.
As she approached the two, they both stood.
Extending her hand, the elegantly dressed woman introduced herself
as Theadora Trueheart (The Duchess), Daere's Warrenlady.
She then introduced the second woman as Roxie, rider of Zanne and is in
charge of the Searchlings.
Theadora asked ShyMela how long she has been able to speak
telepathically to dragons and other telepathic humans.
"Since I was very young, I was able to speak to dragons, it was
only tonight that I realized I could speak to other telepathic humans,
too." ShyMela replied.
Theadora then asked ShyMela to explain what had happened, that had
resulted in her calling out for help.
ShyMela explained everything, when she was done, ShyMela began to
cry as she hid her face in her hands.
Wiping away her tears, ShyMela then asked "my...my sister, did
anyone find her? She wasn't with my parents and brothers when they
died."
Theadora explained that T'rell hadn't found anyone else, only that
there were four dead.
"Does that mean she could have escaped, just as I have?" ShyMela
asked.
Theadora told her that it was possible.
Roxie remained quiet, until now.
Roxie told ShyMela that the reason they were there, is because of
her ability to speak telepathically. Then asked her if she would like a
chance to be joined with a dragon hatchling.
ShyMela let out a loud gasped and said "Oh, yes! It has been my
dream to become a dragonrider since I realized that I could speak to
dragons."
Roxie told ShyMela that as soon as she was ready, then she'd show
her where the Searchling Barracks were.
"I'm ready now!" ShyMela exclaimed.
The nurse appeared just then, and reminded ShyMela that she needed
her rest.
Roxie told ShyMela to follow her and she'd get her settled.
Theadora explained that she needed to get a few things done and
that she needed to leave them.
ShyMela thanked her and told her "goodnight", and she glided out of
the Medical Center.
Then, ShyMela followed Roxie out and across to the Searchling
Barracks.
Once in the Barracks, ShyMela chose a bed that was set apart from
the other sleeping searchlings, then quietly crawled into bed and was
fast asleep in no time.
Her sleep was racked by the nightmares of those creatures killing
her family.
The next day, ShyMela familiarized herself with the Warren and
where everything was at inside the Warren. Then finding the library,
she found a good book and took it back to the barracks, where she
curled up on her bed, losing herself in the book.
After some time, Roxie rushed into the barracks, announcing that it
was time for the hatching.
<Snip>
Roxie had been helping to usher the searchlings toward the hatching
cavern when the word had gone up that the babies were hatching, when
the
alarm went up from Samson and the other dragons.
"What is going on?" The searchlings clamored as they gathered about
Roxie.
Alden had managed to climb down from Dante's apartment, he wanted to
help. He ran into the other searchlings as Roxie moving them to the
caves. "Roxie!" Alden pushed through all the searchlings to get to her.
He got to her side. "What's happening, are the eggs hatching?"
"Yes, but... something is wrong!" Roxie felt the fear flowing through
her bond from Zanne. Her eyes widened... "Wyverns!" She gasped.
"Wyverns are in the hatching cavern!"
<End Snip>
ShyMela was seized by fear and panic, as she remembered what those
creatures had done to her family.
The other searchlings looked as frightened as ShyMela felt.
ShyMela listened to Roxie arguing with this Dante person, as some
of the searchlings began fleeing in fear, while the rest of the
searchlings began fighting amongst themselves.
ShyMela didn't understand what was happening to those around her.
In her mind, ShyMela felt a pressure, a pressure that didn't feel
right, so she fought against it. She had to stay focused.
<Snip>
Roxie glared, "Really? Prove it! Our dragons can't go into the
hatching cavern because of the eggs... but humans can't fight those
creatures. But... we can go back into that hole in the barracks and
come up behind them! Are you coming?" Roxie challenged.
"Fine! Lets go!" He pushed past Alton, who just looked at him. Dante
gave him a blaming glare.
Alton watched him for a moment and as Roxie started to follow he
stepped
forward. "How can we help?"
Roxie had turned to follow Dante, as she turned back, her red hair
flipping, her gaze took in all the searchlings, "Save the eggs!" Then
she raced off to find Zanne.
Alton nodded and rushed in followed by other searchlings.
<End Snip>
As ShyMela followed Alton, she shook slightly from fear, though
part of it was from anger as the memory of her family being killed by
those creatures, and that her sister had not been found, yet.
ShyMela wasn't sure what they could do to save the eggs, but no
matter how frightened she felt, she had to do what she could to help
save those eggs.
Submitted by Raemonda Carris
Writer for ShyMela (nickname: Star)
<Tag: Arlene, John, or anyone who would like to add to this post.>
[Summary]
After seeing her family killed by Wyverns, ShyMela found herself
being rescued by T'rell and Flerrion and taken to Daere Warren.
Shortly after arriving, ShyMela learned that she was being given the
chance to fulfill her dreams of becoming a dragonrider.
Her second day in the Warren, ShyMela found herself being ushered,
along with other searchlings, to the Hatching Caverns, only to find
that Wyverns had somehow made their way inside the Hatching Caverns.
And somehow, they have to save the eggs, no matter how frightened
they were.
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