Joe Manning

Just send an e-mail to both of those addresses. The content of the e-mail doesn't matter; this isn't an application yet, but we'll provide you with the means to submit one.

To: Constable Lerryn Mogg

From: Marshall Adam Benedict, Aldebaran Precinct

Re: Client # 7493's Request

I was instructed by Grand Marshall Riker to bring you up to speed on the intelligence gathering operation we were paid 16,000 credits to conduct for Client 7493, whose name will not be printed here for obvious reasons of conflicted interest, though I understand you are aware of 7493's identity. The Grand Marshall has not informed me of the level of briefing you've been privy to beyond said Client's identity, though he has instructed me to give you all the essential information. Thus, I will include a briefing on our Longarm branch; I expect you to destroy this briefing at such time that it is not needed.

The Grand Marshalls funded and organized the Longarm branch of the Guardians for one purpose -- to conduct operations within territories under explicit Federation jurisdiction. Our Longarm agents are chosen from among our most skilled and intelligent recruits, and they are trained to be discreet. The Federation suspects the activities of our Longarm agents, but they have no proof; we strive to maintain deniability. The work conducted by our Longarms is highly sensitive, and they are trained to be efficient enough to accomplish it successfully. Thus, their services are available only at our steepest contract rates, reserved for wealthy and influential clients who have interests in Federation space.

Client 7493 requested as much intelligence as could be gathered on the history of Joseph Manning prior to his arrival in Bull's Head. Manning is the Captain of a Klingon scout ship operating independently in Bull's Head; we have separate reports on him that you are free to access, though they have little bearing on 7493's request. Prior to his arrival in Bull's Head, Manning was Federation and Starfleet. Thus, 7493's request was assigned to the Longarm branch after the appropriate fee was levied. Longarm Agent Leonard Detridge was appointed for the task.

A few of Agent Detridge's findings were quite remarkable, most notably the classified entry in Manning's Starfleet personnel record. It was with a great deal of painstaking effort that Agent Detridge was able to uncover a few of the details of this classified entry. He did not uncover all the details, unfortunately, and his cover was blown in the process. He has been recalled and sent to Xorax colony for facial reconstruction.

Here is the basic information we've gathered; Client 7493 will have to identify areas we should investigate more thoroughly. Everything reported below is for 7493's eyes.

Manning was born March 24th, 2350 in the city of Dublin on Earth. His father Archie was a teacher working on a PhD at Cambridge, where he now teaches history. His mother was a Starfleet medical intern; she would eventually achieve the rank of Commander and receive an administrative post at Starfleet Headquarters' medical division; she is currently retired. Joe maintains intermittent SCN contact with his mother, though he and his father have not spoken in some years. His participation in the War is a sticking point between them. He has an older brother, Patrick, serving as medical chief on the USS Hermes; either they do not maintain regular contact, or their mother acts as intermediary; there is no indication of either a close or a sour relationship between them.

Conversations with contacts from his past suggest that Manning's early career desires leaned toward entertainment, despite the family's pressuring him to enter the medical field. For several of his teenage years, he bounced between restaurants, cafes, and eventually clubs serving as a waiter and, at one point, a bartender. The obvious cover story was that he was saving up money to fund his education, insisting that the family not fund his way through Cambridge. His closest friends knew that he was trying to work his way into a more prominent role in the clubbing scene.

At the age of 16, Manning enrolled in Louisiana University's medical program; he was certainly true to his intentions to make his own way through college. It's possible that New Orleans' notorious nightlife was a factor in his decision to move across the globe. Some of his fellow students indicated that much of his free time was spent on music and dancing lessons. He clearly hadn't given up on his aspirations, but for whatever reason he was never able to achieve them. Within four years, he earned his medical degree and enrolled in Starfleet Academy, following his brother's footsteps almost indentically. It's hard to say why his life took this path. Was he forced into a medical and military career by his family? Or did he find that he wasn't cut out for a career in the club scene? Our initial indications are that it was a combination of both; we could delve deeper if 7493 requires it.

After two years at Starfleet Academy (abbreviated on account of his previous medical education), Manning was assigned to the USS Cassandra. Cassandra prowled near our neck of the woods, exploring beyond the Hydran Expanse near Gorn space. Manning and two other officers nearly lost their lives when they contracted on a virus on Durgal Ceti III. Cassandra's medical staff was able to devise a one-use treatment that effectively rendered the virus dormant. It is worthy to point out that Manning is still, according to some semi-classified reports we fished up, infected with the virus. The reports noted that the virus is not 100% certain to remain dormant for Manning's entire lifetime; it's not contagious, so it represents no threat to others, but it could still be lethal to Manning.

When the Dominion conflict broke out, Cassandra was recalled to patrol the Federation borders. She didn't see much action until the conflict heated up in the final year. She was crippled in a rough engagement at Alchar II; Manning was probably fortunate to escape that incident with his life. The next few months were pretty frenetic, like a lot of the Fleet's activities at the time. Manning was promoted to Lieutenant and re-assigned to the USS Minbar, where he replaced the medical chief who had been recently killed in action. It was originally meant to be a temporary assignment, but it stuck, despite the fact that he was only 25. You can do the math; the war was a critical reason that Manning, like a lot of young Starleet officers, was able to advance so quickly. The Fleet wasn't quite as desparate to fill positions as they've been since the Beholder invasion, but they lost a lot of senior officers in the Dominion years.

The next entry in Manning's service jacket is rather remarkable. The Minbar, like most of the Fleet's ships, was assigned to the Allied Task Force that ended the Dominion conflict. After the final engagement, Manning actually resigned his post on the Minbar to join up with the civilian relief effort being set up on Cardassia Prime, an effort that was eventually organized into the Cardassia Medical Relief Organization. No formal resignation from Starfleet was ever recognized; I guess they were okay with it. He spent two years on Cardassia Prime, serving in a minor administration position at the CMRO's central office.

In 2377, Manning returned to Starfleet and was assigned as a medical assistant on the USS Nebraska, attached to Deep Space Delta One station. This is where his record starts to get really peculiar. Officially, Starfleet maintains that Manning resigned his post on the Nebraska some time early in 2378 and fell out of contact. By that I mean he made contact with no one, not even his family, for a period of nine years. Any attempts to dig deeper netted a story that he wandered off into the Delta quadrant on some kind of personal spirit quest. Agent Detridge suspected that this story was a fabrication; the entries with high-level classification in Manning's personnel record further suggested that something was being covered up.

Detridge had to absorb a lot of heat from the Fleeters to dig deeper into Manning's disappearance. When his digging led him to classified reports being kept by Starfleet's Temporal Physics Division, he knew answers weren't going to be easy to come by. Before his cover was blown, he was able to gather a few accounts painting a vague picture of an incident that took place at Deep Space Delta One. A ship (believed by some to be Starfleet) had somehow been displaced from another time into the year 2377. An effort was made by the station's staff to return the ship to its own time. For some reason, this effort included heavy involvement from the station's medical personnel, including Manning. There is speculation that the doctors were appointed by the Temporal Division to erase the memories of the displaced ship's crew, in order to preserve the timeline. Among the people who were willing to talk about this incident (and none of the doctors Detridge could get ahold of were willing to break their vows of secrecy), there are hushed whispers that one of the station personnel was stranded aboard the displaced vessel when it was returned to its own time. Given that this incident coincides perfectly with Manning's disappearance, it would seem that Detridge was getting close to the truth of the matter.

The discovery that finally blew Detridge's cover came from a partly damaged report that he managed to dig out of Starfleet's archives from (and you're going to love this) the year 2283. It made a brief mention of a medical officer named 'J Manning.' Detridge was in the process of trying to determine why many reports from a Fleet vessel operating in the 2280's -- the USS Hood -- were likewise damaged, when Starfleet intelligence operatives started to close on him and forced him to return to Bull's Head.

In 2386, Manning just ... showed up. He was brought to Earth aboard an Orion freighter that he claimed picked him up from a backwater colony near the Briar Patch (nowhere near the Deep Space Delta stations, it's worth noting). Details of his exchanges with Starfleet Command at this time were buried under layers of classification too deep for Detridge to crack. Starfleet hasn't had so easy a time burying medical reports that suggest that Manning is about three and a half years younger than his birth year would otherwise indicate. Did Manning actually spend six years living in another era? Considering how sensitive Starfleet considers this matter, I'd advise charging Client 7493 extra hazard pay if he wants more details.

Manning did not return to Starfleet service right away (if he'd even been absent from service anyway). He travelled back to the regions around the Gamma Quadrant wormhole, taking up a bartending position on a space-based nightclub station partly owned by the Bajorans. This aspect of the investigation was handed off to an intelligence agent that we have operating in Union space. He was able to question a few former club staff who'd been around long enough to remember Manning. The rumors that spread at the time were that Starfleet helped Manning get the job, and that they may have been in regular contact with him. Detridge wasn't able to locate any evidence of this on the Starfleet side before his cover was blown; it's possible that Starfleet had Manning performing a job for them on the nightclub; we could dig further into this if 7493 is interested.

In 2390, just a few months before the Beholder invasion, Starfleet offered Manning the medical chief position on the USS Gettysburg. He left the nightclub to officially return to Starfleet. Aboard Gettysburg he met his future wife Amanda. Detridge did not attempt to uncover any details on her for two obvious reasons -- 7493 didn't pay us for information on her, and 7493 is not likely to need such information given his prior relationship with her. Information on their son will similarly be omitted.

Early accounts of Manning's service on Gettysburg are not remarkable. The ship was part of the widespread mess that was Starfleet's attempt to fend off the Beholders. She assisted in the defense of the Keros III colony during the attack's second wave and remained behind to provide medical relief. As with a lot of Fleet officers in the days following the invasion, the emphasis shifted to starting a new family and providing for its protection. Within three years, Manning and his wife had their child. A year after his birth, Manning started to receive command level training from Gettysburg's Captain. In 2397 he was promoted to Commander, and in 2399 he was appointed First Officer of Gettysburg. His psych and behavioral profiles from this period are perfectly sterile. For someone who was noted as a bit of a firebrand before his disappearance in 2378, he did his best to play the good obedient officer during his years on Gettysburg, especially after the Beholder attack and his son's birth.

When the Civil War broke out there was a separation in the Manning family. Half of what Detridge was able to uncover sounded like standard crewman gossip. A few people indicated that Manning and his wife had a fundamental disagreement about the War and whether or not they should remain in Starfleet. Others indicated that they both desired to remain with Starfleet, but Manning insisted that his wife leave Federation space and take their son with her, for their protection. There were even a few conspiracy theories suggesting that Manning pulled rank and had his wife discharged from Starfleet, forcing her to take their son away. The truth would be impossible to ascertain without questioning either Manning or his wife. Since he's the subject of this operation and she's been dead for eight years, that puts this detail at an impasse. In any event, Manning remained on the Gettysburg while his wife and son departed for the Hyades colonies.

For the first six years of the War, Captain Morrison acknowledged the orders of Admiral Sawyer, and Gettysburg remained neutral. According to accounts from Gettysburg's crew, that changed when they received word that Admiral Geron's fleet assaulted the Trifon II colony, inflicting a number of civilian casualties in an attempt to apprehend one of Commodore DiAngelo's key supporters. Apparently, Morrison had friends on Trifon II. Like a lot of ships in those latter years, Gettysburg signed on with DiAngelo's fleet; Manning, along with the rest of the crew, found themselves immersed in the war. Near as Detridge could tell, Manning supported the decision to take sides, though he had never been a loud proponent of getting involved previously.

Detridge managed to interview a few of the old Gettysburg officers. Nobody could get much of a sense of what was going through Manning's head during the war. He'd grown more and more distant from the crew, even stretching back to the years before Gettysburg's direct involvement in the war. A few of his old crewmates pointed out how difficult it was to get clear subspace comm channels out of Federation space in those days. It was even more difficult for the ships in DiAngelo and Geron's fleets; Starfleet Command still regulated the subspace relays, so hack jobs were usually needed to get in touch with people. I imagine that Manning was able to keep in touch with his wife and child far less reliably than he'd have liked.

His old crewmates said that the war changed Manning (a familiar story). He started out as a largely jovial and outgoing fellow. So cut off from his family (we're assuming), he started to become more of a withdrawn and brooding sort. There were rumors (hesitantly voiced, naturally) that he was beginning to drink a lot more, and not that syntheholic crap that the Federation loved to replicate. There are indications in our own reports on Manning that he has issues with the drink; he's been involved in more than one incident in taverns and bars around Bull's Head.

When the war ended, Manning resigned from Starfleet before his involvement in the war could be reviewed by Starfleet Command. Detridge was able to determine that Command had no intention of reprimanding Manning; most of the blame for Gettysburg's involvement fell on Captain Morrison. There were strong indications, in fact, that Manning would be kept in line for a promotion, possibly assuming command of Gettysburg. Manning departed for Bull's Head, however, to seek out his family.

There our rudimentary investigation of Manning's past ends. Client 7493 should be aware of most of Manning's activities after his departure from Federation space; further investigation, as requested, will require additional fees. Further investigation of any of the items contained in this report, however, will be included in the original 16,000 credit fee already paid by Client 7493. I will await any word of specific areas this operation should continue to investigate or of the operation's conclusion.

Adam J. Benedict, Marshall

Aldebaran Central Guardian Precinct

I am going to need everyone who is interested in becoming a part of the Qob: Tranquility game to send an e-mail to [email protected] and [email protected]. Please send this e-mail even if you have previously discussed the game with me or STSF personnel.

We're moving closer to getting new recruits assigned and a launch date is going to be announced soon.

I am going to need everyone who is interested in becoming a part of the Qob: Tranquility game to send an e-mail to [email protected] and [email protected]. Please send this e-mail even if you have previously discussed the game with me or STSF personnel.

We're moving closer to getting new recruits assigned and a launch date is going to be announced soon.

Tomorrow's Qob sim will still take place, assuming enough players are able to make it.

KoB Tranquility 07 / 0 (rough estimate considering the game has not officially started yet)

It's more like a guess, really. I can't imagine how you came up with this number since you haven't even asked me about Qob's roster, and the one on our website is empty. :)

It's virtually a lock that all of Qob's initial players will be players from another game, since the game hasn't had a chance to be presented to Academy graduates in its new form. So as far as coming up with a group count, you can throw Qob out entirely. That just gives you an example of how counting the STSF roster would be a lot like running in circles.

I've got the feeling that we might not have unlimited supplies of the newest Federation toys, anyway?

No. :)

The database on our website has been updated with an entry on the ODRI. The Federation does allow us to use the ones that have trickled into Bull's Head over the years. Supplies are still limited enough that they're expensive to acquire, though. And Starfleet inspectors wouldn't be thrilled with an ODRI that's received 'special' modifications.

There are a few ODRI's floating around, though.

How old-fashioned! You will be able to play 'Mr. Tricorder,' though, and who doesn't enjoy that?

Do Odri have names? Would anyone mind if I cal my ODRI Hepburn?

Starfleet encourages good, healthy relationships with their ODRI's. Naming yours is an obvious first step. :)

In these tenuous years following catastrophic alien invasion, Joe the Starfleet Officer has voiced his demand for a new Optical Assistant designed to encapsulate all the functions of his four basic support devices -- tricorder, PADD, chronometer, and commbadge. "Why do I need to carry around all of these easily misplaced items," Joe prudently asks, "when a single device could be made to meet all of my data gathering, storage, and transmission needs?" The brilliant tech heads at Starfleet's Research and Development Division have worked tirelessly to give Joe the answer he's been looking for -- "You don't anymore! The ODRI has arrived!"

Have you ever found yourself digging through tedious stacks of PADDs, frantically searching for your tricorder as hostile entities boarded your starship around you? Have you ever found your shirt torn off during an away mission, separating you from your basic communication device? Have you ever suffered the humiliation of accidentally sending a love letter to your commanding officer because you got your PADDs mixed up? Have you ever found yourself unable to tell the time because your chronometer was misplaced? You likely answered 'yes' to all but the last of those questions. No officer ever misplaces his chronometer because it is conveniently strapped to his wrist. This basic convenience has been borrowed by the uni-functional, forearm-mounted ODRI.

"This looks awfully uncomfortable," Joe the Officer remarks as he surveys his new ODRI. "It looks like a device intended to measure my blood pressure." Never fear, Joe. The ODRI's strap automatically tightens to wrap firmly but comfortably around an arm of any girth. It works just like magic, but we assure you that it is only the sensors on the underside of the device's control panel that tell the straps when to tighten. The ODRI itself is extremely thin and easy to bear, its shell made of advanced lightweight polymers, its nanocircuitry constructed for maximum space-efficiency. Put on your ODRI and marvel -- it will seem like a natural extension of your arm, and you will never want to take it off, even while sleeping or showering.

"Wow, it does feel like a natural fit!" Joe exclaims. "But all I see on the control panel are a bunch of buttons. There's no screen! How can this device serve the function of my tricorder or PADD?" You have a keen eye, Joe, so surely you must notice the crystalline strip near the top edge of the panel. Touch your ODRI's Activate button (that's the long blue one just below the strip) and be astounded! The strip is actually an array of holoemitters and motion sensors. The emitters are capable of holoform displays of various sizes and dimensions depending on your needs, all specified at a root menu which is displayed when the Activate button is pressed. All of the displays are touch-sensitive, allowing for the full interactivity of a PADD or tricorder screen.

The ODRI's root menu provides access to all systems programmed within the device's main core and supplementary modules. Any function that a user requires quick and repeated access to can be assigned to one of the panel's quick-access buttons, allowing for a convenience and personalization that any officer will appreciate. Further, users can define what data is displayed on the LCD strip just beneath the holoemitters. Most officers will wish to display the Starfleet Standard time on their LCDs, though this chronometer function can be adjusted to display any local time. Atmospheric readouts are always helpful for away team personnel to keep a constant eye on, and a heart rate reading is useful for officers who have been advised to keep their stress levels down. Your needs and preferences will guide the fully customizable ODRI. Over time, the device's pseudo-AI algorithms will 'learn' more about your tendencies as an officer and will begin to configure itself to suit your needs! You will swear that your ODRI is alive!

Joe the Officer is used to possessing the 'third eye' of Starfleet personnel -- the tricorder. He will frequently finding himself assigning tricorder functions to most of his ODRI's buttons. The four outer edges of the ODRI panel contain multifunctional sensor arrays which provide the scanning capability of an unmodified tricorder. But no tricorder can provide motion-sensitive, precisely-positioned holographic displays of its sensor data. Sure, Joe the Engineer's tricorder can show him a flat clumsily-navigable schematic of a derelict spaceship, but his ODRI can provide him with a full-scale holographic overlay that shows him the exact positioning of utility conduits running beneath the ship's interior hull. "Wow," Joe remarks. "I can see the wiring behind the hull panels. And the image remains still even when I move my arm!" We assure you that the ODRI is no magician, Joe, simply the product of Starfleet ingenuity at its best.

An unmodified ODRI is capable of storing 510 kiloquads of information in its memory core. Important sensor images, personal audio logs, the results of ongoing experimentation -- anything you wish to record -- can be stored for later access without the hassle of carrying cumbersome PADDs. You can quickly and easily establish a constant uplink between your ODRI and your personal computing station, allowing you to freely share data between both storage devices. In fact, an ODRI can establish a remote uplink with any computer system that is not secured against outside intrusion. With the right translation and decryption modules, Joe the Scientist can gain access even to alien computing technologies with his ODRI! And uplinks are always possible between ODRI's, allowing officers to share data with ease. With an uplink to the subspace network, even interstellar correspondence is possible. "Hey, what about love letters from back home?" Joe the Romantic asks. "I wouldn't want any of the guys reading my holographic displays." Not to worry, Joe -- privacy is fully accounted for. The ODRI's holoemitters can buffer any display with solid light in order to ensure that they are visible only to the user and any designated viewers.

You may have once thought that you'd never see the day that you'd throw out your commbadge. ODRI will render the commbadge obsolete! The ODRI is capable of sharing audio messages with any interfacable communications device. If all participants possess an ODRI, a conversation can be visually represented -- scans of the speakers' faces are shared between devices, allowing for holographic displays that sync themselves to the voices of whomever is speaking. The days of making silly faces while conversing with your CO will be eliminated by this amenity. Think not, however, that the user-recognition and location capabilities of a commbadge have been sacrificed. Sensors along the ODRI panel's underside provide faultless cellular identification, preventing unauthorized users from accessing restricted data and functions and ensuring that the ODRI's user can always be located.

We've saved the best for last, Joe! "My ODRI is capable of so much," Joe marvels. "What more could there be?" Snap open your ODRI's panel and pull it back to reveal the circuitry underneath. You will notice that your ODRI's circuit board is equipped with twenty-two ports that can accept any one of the ODRI modules that is continually being developed by Starfleet R&D. ODRI modules have the same function expansion capabilities as a tricorder isochip, but they are much smaller and easier to install, and they are designed for maximum compatibility.

Consider Joe the Doctor. Sure, his ODRI can provide basic scans of a patient's physiology. But without modifications to his ODRI, he still requires a dedicated medical scanner and a hypospray injector. That defeats the primary purpose of the ODRI -- consolidation. By issuing the basic suite of ODRI medical modules to Joe, we succeed at transforming his ODRI into a fully equipped medical assistant. The medical suite contains four modules which widen the ODRI's scanning capabilities, expand its database with the collected knowledge of Starfleet's Medical Division, and can even extend drug infusion and dermal regeneration devices to ODRI's exterior. Further modules can be inserted which are capable of synthesizing a broad range of common medical compounds.

Possibilities for such expansions are limited only by the minds at Starfleet R&D. We have already successfully tested modules which extend basic engineering tools to the ODRI's exterior. Our standard pair of universal translation modules will be capable of real-time analysis and translation of alien linguistics as well as analysis of alien symbology. We have nearly finished testing a suite of security bypass modules which will be issued to all Starfleet Intelligence operatives. And we certainly aren't leaving out the little people -- even Joe the Water Reclamation Maintenance Man will receive an ODRI module to make his job easier!

Your ODRI will need to be linked to an external power source every few months to recharge its battery. The ODRI is powered by a basic energy cell that is capable of fueling typical usage of the device for approximately six months. If the ODRI is to be customized for particularly rigorous usage, such as aiding scientific research, or if recharge will not be possible on a field mission, backup power modules can be acquired and inserted.

The ODRI's panel was designed to withstand a wide variety of environmental hazards, allowing it to remain a reliable assistant to an officer in the field. Like any electronic device, it must be regularly sterilized to avoid contamination of its circuitry. In the event that your ODRI does sustain damage, such as from the threat of weapons fire that has sadly become prevalent in these times, you will want to turn it in to your quartermaster as soon as possible for immediate replacement and eventual repair. If your ODRI is damaged in the field, seek out an engineer at once! An officer without his ODRI is like a commander without his voice. Do not let your ability to function as an officer go impaired for long.

Throw away that commbadge and tricorder, Joe! The first ODRI's are already being issued to the brave men, women, and androgynous beings of Starfleet. Our projections suggest that ODRI's will be in universal Starfleet circulation within two years, and within five years they will become basic parts of the lives of all the Federation's citizens. Starfleet's Admiralty would have it no other way -- they have closely supervised the development of the ODRI to meet the changing needs of a Federation of Planets and its defenders. With hostile entities of all varieties prowling the borders of our great Federation, won't you feel more secure knowing that you have a little piece of Starfleet Command strapped to your body at all times?

You still need people of various skillsets to operate a starship. And you still need a clear chain of command to keep the crew operating smoothly and efficiently. While the departmental and chief/assistant breakdown can traditionally be associated with Starfleet, Starfleet did choose those modes of organization for good reasons.

It's entirely possible that not every ship in Bull's Head follows the same structure. But Qob's Captain is an ex Fleet Commander, so this structure is also the most comfortable for him.

No, the description on the website was not based on any existing schematic or set of pictures. I just pieced it together based on my memories of the TOS films and common sense. The only picture of Qob you can see right now is what you form in your mind from the description.

Note that our website is back up and running, with all pages in their proper places (and we'll be keeping a closer eye on them from now on). My apologies to anyone who was trying to view the site but getting 'Not Found' messages.

If you do encounter any problems trying to view the site, please send me a board PM or an e-mail at [email protected]

For those who are wondering about the relaunch, we're still waiting for the first applications to be processed. Don't worry if you haven't heard word back from personnel yet. As soon as we get something, we'll announce a launch date here, so you'll know if your application was lost through the cracks.

Note that our website is back up and running, with all pages in their proper places (and we'll be keeping a closer eye on them from now on). My apologies to anyone who was trying to view the site but getting 'Not Found' messages.

If you do encounter any problems trying to view the site, please send me a board PM or an e-mail at [email protected]

For those who are wondering about the relaunch, we're still waiting for the first applications to be processed. Don't worry if you haven't heard word back from personnel yet. As soon as we get something, we'll announce a launch date here, so you'll know if your application was lost through the cracks.

Talon, our Romulan Sim, leans heavily Diane Duane Romulan-series novels

It should be noted that this is an exception in STSF, though. For the most part, events depicted in novels, even the Destiny series, are not recognized as canon.

If you want to incorporate a character concept from a novel, you might be allowed. I recently told a player that I was willing to allow a species in one of the Trek novels as long as enough background information was included in her bio for people who hadn't read the novel. You'd have to be careful, though, if anything about the character relies on significant events or changes in the galaxy that were depicted in a novel, since those could conflict with the setting of the game. Your Advanced sim GMs are always the final arbiters. Prepare something for them when you graduate, and it just might be cleared.

Asteria Jaxa graduated from STSF's Academy on April 25th, 2010 after performing admirably as the leader of an engineering team on the runabout Styx.

Good luck in your future endeavors, Ensign Jaxa! :P

Hi!

 

Can anyone tell me how many active participants there are here? The site boasts 3060 current members however the last graduate from the Academy was a couple of months ago and even if a third of those are still cadets then each vessel here would have an average of 170 active crew members...

 

I realize that many people just come here to browse and watch... I am just curious... :P

There are a lot of folks here who have multiple accounts registered (different characters on different sims + GM accounts for a few). Those accounts remain even when a character is retired from a sim, or a name is changed to reflect a promotion, etc.. So they can stack up pretty quickly.

Also, sadly, a lot of accounts have been created by the various spammers that have plagued us over the years. So the 3000+ count is very misleading.

Since it would be a 'replica', the new one would be exactly like the defective one down to a zero tolerance and therefore would fit exactly into its postion without having to turn one wrench or loosen one fitting.

You might be asking for a little more precision than the transporters are capable of. You're asking for a conduit to be placed in exactly the right position with all the bolts in exactly the right place, with a steady plasma flow at stake. There'd be a lot of risk that a minor leak could be turned into a major one or, worse, a blockage.

At least, that's the explanation I'd use. :P

In 2004, the Challenger initially debuted as the NX-05 and was an Enterprise era sim. If you look at their message board, you can see when they changed it from Enterprise Era to a later time period (I believe that was due to player demand)

I'd already taken my hiatus from STSF by the time Challenger was changed to a TOS movie era sim, so I can't say for sure why the change was made. But I can say that general interest in the setting waned after Enterprise was canceled.

I agree that the setting was good for simming, and I had some good ideas for how we'd handle the Romulan War years. We could have gotten even more creative without the show to constrict us. But we were down to a really small crew by the time I left and we weren't getting much in the way of Academy recruits. I doubt revisiting the setting now would draw much more interest.

Broken glass crunched underneath the boots of Amanda Savoy as she moved slowly between the overturned tables and chairs in the taproom of The Maze. Many of the patrons were still gathered around upright tables, resuming their evening's drinking activities with replacements for the bottles that had been broken. Though many of them were bruised and even bleeding, they boasted and laughed as they shared accounts of the brawl that had just taken place. It was a scene that disgusted the Guardian Marshall and reminded her how lucky the guild was to have the Tranquil Seas Lounge in the city plaza.

Savoy looked over the two Guardian officers who were questioning patrons on opposite sides of the taproom. The Taurus Brothers had made it clear that bar brawls were not in violation of Tranquility law as long as they did not spill out into the streets. The Guardians knew that these brawls were never that simple, however. A single punch thrown during a brawl, especially one involving Klingons, could potentially plant the seed for a blood feud that could jeopardize the peace in Bull's Head in any number of ways. Further, brawls were always ripe opportunities for the Guardians to profit. If any of the patrons had been attacked unprovoked, they could file an assault charge. The Guardians would levy a fine against the assailant, a fine of which they would collect a small percentage. Predictably, the owner of The Maze had not filed any charges of property damage; Pete Gibbons was no friend of the Guardians, and he was rumored to have his own means of meting our punishment.

Savoy spotted her target slumped on the floor at one end of the bar; none of the bar stools, always a favored weapon in a brawl, remained standing. Joe Manning was drawing from a bottle of bourbon with the arm that's shoulder wasn't clearly slumping in pain. His left eye was swollen and blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Savoy kicked a chair aside as she approached, clearing a path as well as announcing her presence.

Joe squinted his good eye and looked up at the tall blond neatly wrapped in a leather body suit. She was stunningly attractive despite appearing to be in her late forties. Either that, or there was enough drink in Joe's body to begin distorting his vision. Either way, the thought of a pleasant end to this rough night was not far from his mind. "Captain Joseph Manning ... successful independent mercenary ... sitting in a glass-strewn pool of booze on the floor of a seedy tavern ... "

Maybe not. Joe looked down at the alleged "pool," and his eyes agreed with his backside -- the floor beneath him was dry. He looked back up at the woman. "Do I know you, Miss ... ?"

"Savoy," the woman haughtily grabbed the silver star on her chest and maneuvered it to catch the dim light in the taproom. Joe winced as the light flashed blindingly off the bull's head. "Marshall ... Amanda Savoy. Central Guardian precinct. Word is you started this brawl, Mr. Manning."

Joe looked away and made a noise with his lips. "Wherever did you get that idea, Miss Savoy?" he asked before drawing another swallow from the bourbon bottle.

"From eight of the other patrons," Savoy answered, making a general motion around the tavern with her arm. "Including Duke Redding."

Joe laughed, struggling to keep the bourbon in his mouth. He wiped his chin clear of blood and bourbon with the back of his sleeve. When he managed to swallow all of the drink, he replied, "Duke Redding is an insufferable ass who got less than was coming to him. Him and his pet ogre. You want to know who started the brawl, ask the Klingons."

"Regardless ... Duke is in the nearest infirmary with eight shattered ribs and a broken jaw. To say nothing of the stitches his ... 'pet' will require. It may come as no surprise to you to know that he plans to press charges. And considering that several of this bar's patrons will testify that the brawl was your responsibility, you could come out of our investigation owing restitution to a lot of people."

"Let'em come for it," Joe raised the bottle and took another swill. "Kind of folk that come to a place like this should know that a brawl comes with the territory. And they damn sure should have enough spine to take up a grievance directly, not to run bawling to the local sheriff."

Savoy kneeled and wrapped her hand under Joe's bad shoulder. He groaned as she lifted him to his feet with a strength that surprised him. She motioned to an unoccupied table in the corner but grabbed a hold of his arm and steered him toward it before he could move voluntarily. "You make it sound like I enjoy being in a place like this, Manning. Nothing could be further from the truth. And Redding is no more a friend of the Guardians than you." She swung him around the table and into one of the chairs, then took the chair opposite. She quickly glanced around to see if anyone was watching them before she continued. "But as we are expected to keep the peace on Tranquility with a blunt fairness, you -are- going to have to pay a steep fine. And the price could end up being quite severe; you may not be able to meet it without selling us your ship."

Joe waved a dismissive hand at her and turned his attention to the Guardian officers swooping around the taproom floor. "I thought you people didn't care about my ship? Last Guardian I talked to called it a winged junkyard, if my memory is right."

Savoy shrugged. "We could break it apart for salvage. Might not cover the fine completely, but you could always work for us until you've made up the difference."

Joe chuckled and took another sip. His expression became bitter as he gazed over the scene in the taproom. "Take the damned ship. I've lost half my crew. And it's not like it can leave the planet anyway. Speaking of which ... why are you badge polishers wasting your time with some brawl in the merc district? Don't you have a dangerous criminal to catch?"

"That's precisely why I'm here, Manning," Savoy replied coolly. "You see, there might be an alternative means for you to pay whatever fine this incident incurs." Joe's interest appeared nonexistent; he simply sipped from the rapidly depleting bottle of bourbon and stared away from the table. One corner of Savoy's mouth rose slightly as she continued, "How are things with you and Samus these days, Manning?"

Joe blinked and finally looked at the Marshall, piqued interest evident in his eyes. "Don't see how that's any business of yours."

"Really?" Savoy tilted her head at him. "Samus is quite the notorious criminal in his own right ... and you have something of a partnership with him, don't you?"

Joe raised his aching shoulder to point at her. "All of my business with him has been legitimate. And sporadic at best; we hardly have a 'partnership.' Hell, half the time, we ain't on speaking terms. Besides, last I checked, the Taurus Brothers haven't declared him an outlaw."

"No," Savoy shook her head. "Samus and his associates keep their activities clean enough for the Brothers. To say nothing of their discretion; we haven't been able to gather enough evidence to back up most of the criminal grievances that have been filed against him by third parties. There is one thing we've been able to determine though, Mr. Manning; one tidbit of information we've held onto until the right time -- Samus has done business with the Rainmakers in the past ... maybe with Minos himself."

Joe's brow furrowed deeply. "Samus wouldn't help Minos. I know him well enough to know that."

"Oh?" Savoy put on a confused face. "The man you're not on speaking terms with half the time?"

Joe scowled and looked down at his bourbon bottle. He grabbed the top of the bottle and spun it around lazily, losing himself in thought. Savoy continued, "Surely Samus doesn't let you in on all of his business dealings. Besides ... we know of only a limited degree of contact and exchange between Samus and the Rainmakers. Enough to suggest a certain level of mutual trust, if not association."

"Just tell me what the hell it is you want with me," Joe shot a look at her. "Because you're starting to ruin a good buzz."

Savoy nodded and made fast for the point. "We want you and your crew -- what's left of it -- to help us get Minos. The Taurus Brothers have put a price on his head. Enough for you to clear yourself of any fines."

"How am I supposed to get you Minos," Joe asked. "When you can't even find him?"

"Right now, Manning, Minos wants one thing more than anything in the galaxy," Savoy explained. "To get off of Tranquility. We don't know why he came here ... we don't know what his exact destination was ... and it goes without saying that we don't know where he's hiding now. But we know he's here. Whatever his intentions were on Tranquility, he has to abandon them and leave the planet as soon as he can. But to do that he needs two things ... someone he can trust, and someone who has the ability to get him off-world without our fleet noticing or being able to give chase."

Joe merely stared back at her and shrugged.

"We want you to contact Samus, Manning," Savoy continued. "We want you to ask him to reach out to the Rainmakers and offer transport off Tranquility for Minos."

"Ask him your damn self!" Joe waved a hand at her again. "Right now ain't one of our 'speaking terms' times."

"Samus has -never- been on speaking terms with us," Savoy replied sternly. "Certainly you've built enough working trust with him that you can propose a potentially lucrative deal with the Rainmakers. Besides which ... you would be the key to any plan to smuggle Minos off-world. About one of the only things on Tranquility right now that could get him off the planet without our ships pursuing him ... is a ship that can cloak."

"You assume that my ship can cloak," Joe said.

"Exactly what we'd bank on Minos doing," Savoy retorted. "Frankly, we don't care if your ship can cloak or not. But if you lead the Rainmakers to believe that it can, Minos would see it as his best ticket off the planet. It's quite a simple plan for the dividends it could pay for you. You arrange contact with Minos through Samus ... then as soon as you have a -confirmed- location, you relay it to us and we apprehend him. All your fines get squared away, and we can lift the blockade on Tranquility."

Joe took another sip of bourbon and looked over the taproom with a contemplative glint in his eye. Savoy watched him closely for a few moments before continuing, "Frankly, your remaining crew could use the activity. You'll all be grounded until Minos is apprehended ... and too much shore leave can be rather hazardous." She motioned to the bourbon bottle.

Joe emptied the bottle with one last swill, then shook his head at Savoy. "You can take your offer and shove it." A look of deep disapproval fell over the Guardian's face. "Only damned things I've ever heard from you people is how independents ain't good enough for your guild. Now suddenly you need my broken-down laughingstock of a ship. You're right, Savoy. I have managed to build up at least a modicum of trust between myself and Samus over the years. And there's no way in hell I'm throwing it away for the Guardians' benefit."

"I see." Savoy nodded and slowly rose from her chair, trying to put on a grin. "Mr. Manning, I'm going to be forgiving and bank on you finding at least a few hours of sobriety tomorrow. Our offer will remain on the table until Minos is apprehended. But should you decide that you're not capable of working with the Guardians, you'd best prepare your ship for impound. Good day."

The Marshall spun on her heels and strode to the entrance, leaving Joe to brood over an empty bourbon bottle.

I guess what I'm getting at is, will the Qob-ites employ a four wheel drive ATV (aka "The Mule" from Firefly) or ground based car for planetary movement, or does the crew have access to shuttles or hover vehicles?

I wonder if you've been looking in on some of our Corsairs of Qo'noS games. :P

While we had the GCX gravtank in our Corsairs plot, Tranquility will not feature any support vehicles, at least not at first. The only place to put one on a scout-class Bird of Prey would be the cargo hold, but we'll need that space for supplies at first (things can always change later). A lot of the need for a shuttle or runabout is offset by the ship's ability to land, but once we're on a planet we'll be on foot. That is, unless we secure use of a support vehicle locally. Since the company that manufactured the GCX is now set up in Bull's Head, their gravtanks have circulated throughout some of the colonies. I'm sure there are a few rental places set up ...

Many of the shuttles and runabouts we might encounter will be the lone personal yachts of mercenary Captains -- some folks just can't afford a big ship. :) There's always the possibility, down the road, that one of those shuttles be captured by the crew; while we wouldn't be able to store any on the ship, we could start putting our own small fleet together.

By order of the Taurus Brothers, the ports of Tranquility are sealed until further notice. No one is permitted to depart the planet without the Guardians' explicit approval. Anyone wishing to leave Tranquility may put in a request with the local Guardian office.

Anyone possessing information that may lead to the apprehension of the criminal mastermind known as Minos is urged to contact the local Guardian office at once.

Captain Duke Redding shook his head at the notice on the bulletin board. It was printed in bold print on a large sheet at the center of the board, several job offers buried underneath it. The large silver emblem of the Guardians -- a bull's head within an old-school sheriff star -- was displayed at the bottom. Rude graffiti covered the notice, including a silly-looking mustache on the bull -- the Guardians weren't very popular in this tavern. The rest of the board was covered with old off-world job offers, untouched by mercenaries unable to leave the planet.

Duke turned to face the common area of The Maze. The tavern was more crowded than usual, full of mercenaries who touched down on the planet prior to the Guardian lockdown. They huddled around the tables downing flagons of booze and sharing the tales of their latest exploits. It was a much more raucous place than the Guardians' lounge -- The Maze catered to freelance mercenaries, a much rougher sort of clientele. The bar was mostly unoccupied, a surprising condition that may have had something to do with the large Orion gentleman sitting at itss midpoint; the bar's only other occupant was a ragged-looking character brooding over a bottle at the far end. The bartender was frantically filling glasses, a pleased look on his face; no doubt, the closure of the ports was doing great for his business. His contented look was broken when the Orion slammed his fist down on the bar top.

"WHERE'S MY REFILL?!" the large green brute barked, banging the bar top three more times. The patrons at the nearby tables turned to watch him apprehensively. The man who dared to share a bar with the unruly giant paid no heed.

"Just a second, Gorot!" the bartender said, quickly reaching for the tankard of Zangosian Black Ale. "Got a lot of orders to process here. But I'll be pleased to take care of yours first ... "

"Don't let that miserable drunken ogre bully you, Pete," Duke yelled out to the bar. A hush fell over parts of the tavern when his voice was heard. "Everyone knows that Orion females are the dangerous ones of the species."

The Orion turned to look in Duke's direction and growled. "You shut your mouth or I'll bust it."

Duke laughed and began slowly weaving his way between the tables, smiling and nodding at the mercenaries as he passed. A few tipped their hats to him; some of them looked anxious. The bartender was busy refilling the Orion's flagon; he too looked anxious. "Speaking of big ugly green things. I could have sworn as I pulled into the local port ... that I saw a Klingon Bird of Prey parked on one of the landing pads. Not unusual for members of the warrior race to be here on Tranquility ... "

Several throaty shouts of self-announcement emerged from one corner of the bar, where a band of Klingon mercenaries were seated around a pitcher of bloodwine. "However," Duke continued. "This particular Bird of Prey was in -miserable- condition. The sort of condition no Klingon would allow a Bird to enter the sky in. It was practically a run-down wreck. Much like the large green mass in here ... "

Gorot growled. The bartender glanced quickly between him and the man at the end of the bar. Duke continued toward the bar. "If I'm not terribly mistaken, the runes on its hull spelled out the word 'Qob.' Now I could have sworn that I left a Klingon Bird of Prey named Qob out in the Hydran Expanse ... with its power offline and half its crew dead."

The mercenaries around one of the tables quickly stood and made a discreet exit from the tavern. They'd only come to The Maze to relax, and they could sense a brawl when one was coming. Duke boldly took the barstool right next to the Orion and signalled to the bartender. "Scotch whiskey, Pete, and make it snappy. I want to enjoy a few drinks before the drunken sod clears out all your stock."

Gorot finished off a flagon of Black Ale and slammed it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and looked over at the mercenary Captain. Duke returned the look with a large grin. Several more patrons, having just been brought up to speed on recent events, stood and retreated from the tavern. The bartender gripped the bottle of scotch tensely as he filled a glass for Duke. "Take it easy, Duke," he said. "Why don't you just take the bottle over to the Andridge boys' table and tell'em about some of your adventures?"

"I'm in no mood for storytelling, Pete," Redding replied. He pulled up the flap of his overcoat and pulled a pouch of credit chits off his belt. "I'm in the mood for celebrating. Taking out the raiders in the Hydran Expanse was rewarding enough. But using that decrepit old Bird of Prey as bait ... letting her draw all the fire while my boys swooped in and finished the raiders off ... "

"Duke ... " Pete pleaded.

"Can't imagine how that bust-up old wreck made it back here," Duke said, ignoring the bartender. He looked over at the Orion. "I heard half of Qob's crew was wiped out ... including that fine young first mate. You remember her, don't you, Greeny? I always told her she woulda been much better off at my side. But she wouldn't listen. And look what stayin' on that big green garbage scow got her. Damn shame, too. Girl like her could serve a Captain in more ways than one ... "

Wood clattered against wood as the stool at the end of the bar tipped over. Everyone in the tavern drew in sharp breaths and watched the lone drinker dash the length of the bar with a half-empty bottle of bourbon in hand. Duke didn't budge as the drinker raised the bottle to swing it down on his head. Gorot quickly stood and extended his massive green hand, catching the drinker's arm by the wrist in mid-swing.

"You bash that bottle over my Captain's head," Gorot growled. "And I'll break your arms."

"Hi Joe." Duke said with a serene smile.

Joe Manning glanced from Duke to Gorot with bloodshot eyes, his wrist still clutched painfully within the Orion's grasp. He relaxed his arm and nodded slowly, and Gorot slowly released his grip but kept his menacing gaze on Joe's face. Everyone in the tavern was watching as Joe slowly withdrew the bottle of bourbon.

"A man doesn't have to search hard to find you," Duke said, sipping his scotch. "Right at the bottom of a bottle of booze, as usual."

"I've come to learn that a bottle of booze is the only thing I can trust," Joe replied, shooting a disdainful look at Duke. "A reliable companion with a myriad of uses." He brought the bottle of bourbon upward sharply, smashing it against the side of Gorot's head. The Orion's eyes crossed as he staggered dizzily. Duke pushed himself to his feet, but Joe didn't give him any more time to react, quickly hooking a right fist. The punch caught Duke by surprise, knocking him aside to one knee. Joe grinned and looked up at the staggering Orion. He grabbed the giant's tunic and pulled in Duke's direction. His last semblance of balance torn away, Gorot tipped over. Duke tried to roll out of harm's way just a second too late; the Orion fell onto his Captain's back with a terrible crunching sound that mixed with a feeble groan of pain.

"QI'yaH, Joe!" the bartender moaned as he reached for the rifle under the bar. The patrons all watched as Joe rubbed his right fist and lazily kicked a large shard of glass toward the fallen pair. Many of them were disappointed with the brevity of the exchange. The ones who remained had been expecting a full-blown brawl ... and, by Kahless, they were going to get one.

"RUMBLE!" One of the Klingons suddenly shouted, and chaos erupted. A great mob yell swept over the tavern as bottles, chairs, and fists began to fly in every direction. Pete hurtled over the bar and started swinging the butt of his rifle around, trying in vain to restore order. A glass of beer somersaulted across the tavern and broke against the bulletin board, dislodging the Guardian notice. As the sheet of plastic fluttered away along with several of the job offers, an old notice was again visible at the center of the board:

Skilled mercenaries needed to crew the starship Qob. Experts in all starship fields being accepted. All species welcome. Good pay, plentiful work opportunities. Inquire with Pete Gibbons, bartender of The Maze.

Love your new time slot, Joe! Think it's a great move. Heck, I may come incognito one of these days.

I have to confess that we're only making the change because I soon won't be able to make the Tuesday timeslot reliably. But Sunday night should be more convenient for many people. You're always welcome, Jami. <_<

The new website for the Qob relaunch is wicked sweet. I love that content and style combination of the Old West/Firefly meets Sci Fi Trek.

That was exactly what I was looking for. Sam did a great job of capturing that mix, and of designing the website in general.

Note that Qob will begin meeting in our new Sunday 9pm EST timeslot this weekend.

Right now we're in the middle of a Daedalus class mission (right after the Romulan War, but ignoring the Enterprise series) being guest CO-ed by one of our players. Our ship just crashed and a lot of hands were lost, but there might be a couple of guest positions left for anyone interested in playing. Anyone is also welcome to watch and to ask questions about the Tranquility relaunch. Hope to see you there!

You can apply for a position as soon as you'd like. We still haven't set a launch date, but we are accepting applications.