Posted by Ensign Tak (Science Officer) in Side Sim: Concert Set Up - Buddy and the Breen

Posted by Lieutenant Mykl Najjar (CNS) in Side Sim: Concert Set Up - Buddy and the Breen

Posted by Ensign Buddy Cullum (Security Officer) in Side Sim: Concert Set Up - Buddy and the Breen
Posted by… suppressed (6) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The cavernous space of Cargo Bay 1 had been transformed—mostly.

The crates were pushed back into tight, orderly stacks, leaving a wide-open floor at the center of the bay. Portable floodlights leaned at odd angles, casting long shadows across hastily erected scaffolding. Cables trailed like snakes from power nodes to amps, speaker towers, and an overclocked lighting rig that Ree’za was definitely not certified to operate.

A few tension clamps rattled loose near the makeshift riser, prompting a low, Bolian curse from somewhere beneath the drum platform.

“I said it’s level!” Jax’s voice echoed upward. “By Bolia’s fourth moon, just jam the stabilizer under the corner!”

“Is this what you call level?” came the skeptical voice of a nearby petty officer, bracing the edge with a knee. “This whole stage is a hazard.”

“That’s the aesthetic,” Ree’za called down from atop a speaker stack, tail flicking. “We’re going for ‘aggressively unsafe with a touch of cosmic enlightenment.’”

T’Lex, standing a few meters away and surveying the space with the quiet judgment of a Vulcan facing aesthetic ruin, slowly turned a spotlight six degrees to the left.

“That light was angled specifically to highlight the forcefield shimmer,” he said, deadpan.

The shimmer in question rippled faintly across the far side of the cargo bay—an energy field standing between the band and the vacuum of space, now visible thanks to some clever field-tuning. Beyond it, stars hung still and cold in the void. Empty space as the ultimate stage backdrop.

The two enlisted crewmembers still hanging around—NE Machar (Operations) and NE Hu (Engineering)—stood near a stack of crates labeled SOUND EQUIPMENT: PUNK and exchanged a long-suffering glance.

“Are they always like this?” Machar muttered under her breath.

Hu snorted. “Worse when the security guy’s here.”

There was no sign of Buddy yet—but the energy in the space already felt like a fuse being primed.

Ree’za jumped down from the stack and dusted her paws off. “He’ll show. Probably with some last-minute ‘creative vision’ that involves setting something on fire.”

“I have calibrated the forcefield to account for heat dispersion,” T’Lex offered mildly.

“See?” she said. “Teamwork.”

Ree’za, T’Lex, & Jax
Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel

The cargo bay doors parted with a hydraulic sigh, and Buddy stepped through, a guitar case slung over one shoulder and a coil of mic cable looped in his free hand.

He stopped just inside the threshold, taking in the scene—the lopsided stage, the barely-legal light rig, the subtle shimmer of the forcefield with open space yawning beyond it.

“Wow,” he said finally, voice flat in that special way that made it unclear if he was impressed or horrified. “Looks like you’ve all been… productive.”

Ree’za’s ears twitched. “We call it visionary chaos.”

“Yeah,” Buddy said, making his way toward the riser, stepping over a loose power cable. “And Starfleet calls it a safety violation.”

Jax popped up from under the drum platform, grinning. “Perfect middle ground, then.”

Buddy set his guitar case down next to an amp, crouched, and started checking the mic cable for frays. “Alright, let’s finish this up before someone in Ops decides we’re not cleared for launch.”

He glanced toward the enlisted pair lingering near the crates. “And you two—don’t look so worried. We’ve only had… what? Two actual explosions in rehearsal? Three if you count the plasma coil thing, but that was mostly smoke.”

Machar and Hu exchanged another glance that said exactly how reassured they felt.

Buddy just smirked. The fuse in the room felt shorter already.

Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel

There was a long, weighted silence after Buddy laid out the plan.

Ree’za’s tail flicked once, sharply. “That’s… bold,” she said, ears canting back. “Bold in a ‘someone’s going to file an incident report’ kind of way.”

Jax rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the shimmering forcefield. “I mean… technically, it’s possible. But ‘possible’ isn’t the same as ‘not terrifying.’”

T’Lex, ever the voice of cold logic, folded his arms. “The margin for error is statistically… significant. And that is assuming flawless execution of your automation sequence.”

Buddy held up the small isolinear chip between two fingers, its surface catching the light. “Flawless execution is my brand.”

“That’s not what your replicator thinks,” Ree’za muttered.

Jax let out a low whistle and crouched by his kit, giving the bass pedal an absent tap. “If we’re doing this, I’m tightening every strap on my harness twice. And if I end up with my atoms smeared across the aft bulkhead, I’m haunting you.”

“Understood,” Buddy said, slotting the chip into a secured case.

T’Lex’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he finally looked back at the stage. “Then I will begin recalibrating the lighting to… complement the event.”

No one said it out loud, but the room felt just a little heavier—like they were tuning up for something they couldn’t quite take back.

And it was going to be epic.

Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel

Kota strolled into the Cargo bay like she owned the space, walking over to the band and watching them with her best approximation of a cocky grin. She had tried her best to emulate their style with what she had available and what she could manage to convince the replicator to give her. A denim jacket with torn-off sleeves atop black versions of her regular clothes. Dark make-up that clearly wasn’t made for fur was smudged around her eyes and mouth, making the poor kid look like a panda. She had tried to give herself a mohawk, but her short head-fur was too short. Over all it was a bit of a pathetic attempt… but at least she had passion??

It looked like a quiet artsy kid who was trying to pass herself off as punk. Pretty accurate for what she was. [[Kota is slightly older than previously stated, and is the equivalent of an earth 16 yo, so very much in edgy teen range]]

Ensign Tak
Science Officer USS Ark Angel

For a moment, the cargo bay went still again—though this time, not with the weight of impending chaos.

Ree’za’s ears flicked upright, tail curling in slow amusement as she took in Kota’s jacket, the smudged make-up, the valiant attempt at a mohawk. She didn’t say a word, but her whiskers twitched like she was biting back a grin.

“Well, look at that,” Jax said finally, standing up from his kit. His broad smile softened the words into something closer to pride than mockery. “Guess we’ve got a fifth Breen.”

“Statistically,” T’Lex added dryly, “an additional member increases survival odds in your more… hazardous set designs.” But the faint tilt of his brow was about as close to indulgence as a Vulcan got.

Ree’za padded over and nudged Kota lightly in the shoulder with the back of her paw. “You’ve got the attitude right. That’s ninety percent of the work.”

Kota smiled, puffing her chest out a little at being praised by the member of the band whom she admired the most. Ree’za was scary, but she was the coolest in Kota’s eyes. Maybe because she was scary.

Buddy, who had been double-checking the mic levels, glanced up—and for the first time in hours, the weight in his expression eased. The sight of her effort—the jacket, the smudge, the grin—cracked something open.

“You know what,” he said, voice thoughtful in a way that immediately put the others on alert. “I’ve got an idea.”

He set his guitar down gently and looked squarely at Kota. “How do you feel about introducing us tonight? Like, properly. Name us, set the mood, call us out. It’ll hit harder coming from you than from a system log.”

The question hung in the air with all the sincerity—and just a hint of challenge—Buddy could muster.

Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel

“Yes, yes, yes!!!” Kota’s attempt at confidence broke immediately upon Buddy’s effort, the young teen exploding into an excited grin. “You’d let me do that? I… I wouldn’t know what–” she cut herself off and put on a self-serious expression. “I’ll do it. I’ll figure something out. That’s what you do, right?” She wanted so badly to impress them.

Ensign Tak
Science Officer USS Ark Angel

For a heartbeat, the cargo bay felt like it tilted toward her—the lights, the cables, the looming stack of amps all fading into the background. Ree’za let out a low, amused growl that rumbled more like approval than menace.

“Atta girl,” she said, tail flicking. “That’s exactly what we do.”

Jax spun a drumstick between his fingers, grinning wide. “And you’ll do fine. Worst case? You trip over your words, we crank the distortion, and nobody notices.”

“Statistically inaccurate,” T’Lex noted, adjusting a cable with maddening calm. “But the probability of the crowd interpreting such an error as intentional showmanship is… high.”

Buddy’s lips curved into something halfway between a smile and a smirk—the kind that said this idea had already rooted deep. “See? You’re covered either way. All you need to do is walk up, claim the mic like it owes you rent, and say the words like you mean ‘em. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Ree’za leaned down just enough to meet Kota’s eye and tapped one claw lightly against the kid’s chest. “Remember—you don’t ask the crowd to listen. You make them. That’s the ninety percent.”

You’d swear there were sparkles in Kota’s eyes as she nodded up at Ree’za, listening with rapt attention to everything the Caitian and the other members of the band said.

The band exchanged a glance that was all agreement, no hesitation: Kota wasn’t just tagging along anymore. She was part of the set.

Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel

Kota nodded excitedly. “I’m gonna go plan my speech!!” She ran off into a corner where there was a replicator, ordering a pencil and paper and beginning to scrawl out words, erase, and rewrite, hastily planning her entrance.

When she entered the holodeck, Mykl was delighted with the set up for the concert. A lot of the crew who were off duty had arrived to take part in the unique entertainment opportunity. Dressed in ( https://ricidress.com/cdn/shop/files/9ceb2434c1a899f61469557f82b86a85_900x.jpg?v=1686540108 ) a short, Egyptian themed dress with sandals and the appropriate jewelry, she felt ready to partake in whatever kind of music the Breens wound up playing. Pic had chosen to stay in their quarters, saying he wanted to read and maybe watch a holovid, and that a night out would be good for her. Mykl hadn’t argued the point, so she was there sans companion. Waiving to those she knew or giving them a nod of acknowledgment, she made her way over to the bar (there is a bar, right?) and ordered a white wine.

Lieutenant Mykl Najjar
CNS USS Ark Angel

Kota didn’t acknowledge the woman, too caught up in her thoughts.

Ensign Tak
Science Officer USS Ark Angel

The scrape of Kota’s pencil against paper and the low hum of amps filled the cargo bay, but when the doors parted again, Buddy’s head turned first.

For half a breath, his easy smirk faltered. Mykl’s entrance caught him square in the chest—not because of the dress, though the gleam of gold and the easy way she carried it were hard to miss—but because she’d come. Here. Early.

Ree’za’s ears flicked, her tail twitching in sharp amusement as she noticed the shift in his posture. Jax made a quiet oooh under his breath, the kind of sound cadets made in the barracks when somebody got caught looking. T’Lex, mercifully, said nothing… though his single arched brow said plenty.

Buddy cleared his throat and forced his voice back into something steady.

“Lieutenant Najjar,” he called, stepping down from the riser. His grin returned, softer this time. “You’re a little early for the main event. But you’re welcome to stay for the sound check. I see you found the bar. Ree’za insisted we have one.”

“Of course I did,” the Caitian muttered, licking a paw like it was the most obvious truth in the galaxy.

Jax was already waving toward the makeshift bar tucked between stacked crates. “First round’s on me—unless it explodes, in which case I claim plausible deniability.”

Buddy shook his head, half fond, half exasperated. He looked back at Mykl, trying not to look like he was trying too hard.

He gestured toward the others with an open hand, as though presenting a particularly eccentric gallery.

“That’s Jax—Bolian percussionist, engineer of questionable stability, and the only guy I trust to build a drum kit out of shuttle parts and not blow us all up.”

Jax spun a stick and gave a dramatic bow from behind his kit. “Safety third.”

Buddy’s hand shifted smoothly. “Ree’za—Caitian bassist, backup screamer, and the reason replicator rations keep running out of protein supplements.”

Ree’za bared her teeth in a grin that was far too sharp to be friendly. “You’re welcome.”

“And that’s T’Lex,” Buddy finished, tilting his head toward the Vulcan, who was calmly recalibrating the light rig. “Rhythm guitar, ambient noise artist, part-time poet. Deadpan delivery ninety-nine percent of the time, devastating wit the other one percent.”

“I refute the term ‘wit,’” T’Lex intoned without looking up.

Buddy spread his hands with a crooked grin. “See? Devastating.”

Buddy’s grin widened as he angled his head toward the corner of the bay. His voice carried just enough to drift in Kota’s direction.

“…and of course, I believe you’re already familiar with our newest—and definitely best dressed—member of the band, Kota.”

He let the words hang with a teasing warmth, equal parts flattery and invitation.

“Anyway,” he added, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll make some noise, you tell us if it’s worth the trouble.”

The bandmates exchanged knowing glances, but for once, none of them said a word.

Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel