Posted by Colonel Jaxon “Hawk” Hammond (Commander, Air Group (CAG)) in Ens. Skye Shepherd: A Phaser Unspoken

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nytha’rae of Vael’Lume (Chief Science Officer) in Ens. Skye Shepherd: A Phaser Unspoken

Posted by Colonel Jaxon “Hawk” Hammond (Commander, Air Group (CAG)) in Ens. Skye Shepherd: A Phaser Unspoken
Posted by… suppressed (7) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The corridor outside the Marine deck carried a different rhythm than the rest of the ship.

Heavier.

More deliberate.

Bootsteps echoed with purpose. Voices were lower, sharper. The air itself seemed tighter—disciplined.

Into that space—

Nytha’rae walked.

Barefoot.

The contrast was immediate.

Her steps made no sound against the deck, her weight distributed with quiet precision, as if she were walking across living ground rather than reinforced starship plating. Her Starfleet uniform—blue and black—sat correctly on her frame, but still looked… slightly foreign on her, like structure placed over something that preferred to move freely.

Her tail moved slowly behind her, a controlled sway, adjusting balance as she navigated the corridor.

On her shoulder, Nytha’kae rode comfortably, wings folded, his glow dim but steady. His head turned constantly, observing everything—the Marines, the movement, the energy of the place.

As they walked, Nytha’rae lifted her PADD.

She paused.

Then sent a message.

LT.JG Nytha’rae

Right next to the Lieutenant stood a 23 year old young woman with golden blonde colored hair and blue gray eyes. Gray-ish beige Trill markings ran down from both temples and into the uniform’s collar. Diluted markings showing she was a hybrid, no doubt. A single pip had been pinned down when called back into duty by the Chimera’s Commanding Officer after resigning her last commission.

Anxiety flowed through the ensign’s veins as they walked at a slightly quicker pace than she had grown used to on her father’s vessel. There had been a tight grip upon a Mark VII tricorder enclosed between light colored fingers. Though the area in which the pair were about to set foot was different from anything Skye had ever seen before on a Federation issued vessel. Different squadron emblems hanging on their surrounding walls. They almost seemed to resemble military barracks.

Most men had been dressed in camo, which was unusual for any Starfleet officer to be wearing such an attire. There were three different divisions coexisting throughout their studies at Starfleet Academy. Gold for Operations, Red for Command and Blue/Teal for Scientific and Medical divisions. Causing confusion as information came. From what Skye could observe, there were at least twelve men sitting in what appeared to be rather rustic looking chairs. Uncomfortable, the Trian (Trill/Human) could only assume.

From the crowd, with every soldier standing, emerged a man with graying hair and light colored eyes. The ensign’s gaze followed as he came to approach Nytha’rae. Inducing a deeper anxiety feeling that shot through every vein and capillary located beneath her skin. Close behind him had padded a canine that resembled a Belgian Malinois. His collar unusual, military, most likely. She set the scientific relic in her hand to a holster located over the ensign’s hip which closed with a single snap. Posture immediately straightening.

Shepherd’s attention was grabbed by the s reptile perched on the lieutenant’s shoulder. If only Zephram had arrived already… What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen with the general had yet to be seen. Though she had already allowed the brown and black canid in a dark green harness to approach, letting him sniff her before being permitted to crouch to the shepherd’s level. Letting a light colored hand stroke through his slick yet short coat, a smile making itself known to her lips.

[[Ensign]] [[Skye Shepherd]]
[[Science Officer]] [[U.S.S. Chimera NCC-98730]]

NP sims stopped and looked at the two individuals moving through the barracks, “Can I help you, Mam, Sir” he challenged his hand on a stun rod, officers or no they had no general reason to be in the enlisted barracks, and he had no record of guest today.

Nameless Private
Commander 7th Marine Expeditionary Unit “Iron Valkyries” (CAG)

Skye took one glance at the private standing before them. Though Nytha’rae had mentioned they were here looking after a certain Colonel Hammond. Stepping back, her smile immediately faded. This was a military unit they were dealing with. But the one thing that could set their bodies at risk was the stun rod held on his right hand.

Science blues gleamed beneath artificial lights, which also brought into view those leopard looking markings that framed the ensign’s face. One of her hands balled to a fist as she gathered the courage to speak up. This was a higher ranked officer, but not a face to be met with such aggression. “We’re looking for Colonel Hammond.” Finally, the words left her mouth. Every square inch of Shepherd’s facial features indicating seriousness with regard to the situation. Though her hand had been fast approaching towards a phaser gun strapped around her hip. There wouldn’t be an aggressive display if he were to back down. An unnecessary call for aggression.

((OOC: Could you guys change the title when you post instead of using mine? It becomes confusing to know whether I replied to a thread or not. Thanks.))

[[Ensign]] [[Skye Shepherd]]
[[Science Officer]] [[U.S.S. Chimera NCC-98730]]
OOC:
Titles always stay the same in a given thread, people should sign their responses with their signature to help with the confusion.

Just a couple small nitpicks , there was not mention of hammond in your previous post in this thread :), and Science offers to not walk around with phasers on their hips all weapon are stored in the armory and general personnel are not allowed to carry them.. Since you posted it , i’ll work with it just no that weapons are not normally carried unless your security or MP and or there is an emergency going on.

IC:

“You just missed him, I can get someone to escort your to his office if you like but first i’m going to need that phaser, weapons must be stored in the armory unless you are authorised security personnel.” he not.

Nameless Private
Commander 7th Marine Expeditionary Unit “Iron Valkyries” (CAG)

OOC: Bump

Colonel Jaxon ‘Hawk’ Hammond
Commander 7th Marine Expeditionary Unit “Iron Valkyries” (CAG)

Ocean blues landed on the volcanic rock made weapon as it was extended over gentle hands. The same way she had turned in that academy phaser on the marine’s hands.

It happened to be a rather primitive looking choice. But even Skye had grown up in the forests of Trill. Their culture was fairly different from other planets. That ensign standing next to Nytha’rae was the result of a Human & Trill marriage, Science Officer and Ambassador. An awkward presence alright.

She shifted her weight from one boot to the other, “This blade is more… cultural than a weapon.” the lieutenant had said. Just as she had done when Shepherd had spoken, the hybrid had gone silent. Allowing the exchange to happen.

She had remained entirely calm when directing herself towards the military officer. “But I understand your protocols.” handing off that blade seemed as though the scientist was handing him a piece of herself. Cultural heritage nobody would simply remove as part of who they might become. This made the junior grade officer look down on the fang that hung on a leather string around her neck. Seeing an officer with such a primitive looking accessory, might as well be considered a pre-warp people.

“Would this also need to be placed in your armory?” Shepherd had just been told the same sentence before handing over the phaser given to her by the Academy. Though, icy blue eyes were now piercing through the private’s soul. Looking for a slip up, where a rule could be bent, for her and Nytha’rae’s sakes.

“I do not draw it unless there is no other path.” that was it, the one sentence no Starfleet officer was bound to hear. An oath was usually made to protect every Federation citizen, regardless of their world. She could be considered Trill. But also be considered human. Duality, what a Vulcan would call IDIC. Infinite diversity in different combinations, words mentioned by Ambassador Spock before his passing, who had once been a great scientist.

Skye was about to speak when “…then something has already gone very wrong.” those words from her mentor sent chills down her spine, even causing an involuntary shudder. Memories from Paldor II flashed through her mind, loud screams from V’Len drowning those doubts about survival. She was trapped with a security officer, the first Caitian she had ever met. Lieutenant Khiray, security chief at Paldor II’s lunar base, who survived after the amputation of a heavily damaged limb. After that… memories had become a blur.

“I have seen what ‘no other path’ looks like,” she spoke up, more firmly now. “Protocols exist to prevent that outcome. I respect that.” Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, grounding herself in the present. The phantom weight of the phaser was gone. The absence felt louder than its presence ever had. “My father taught me that what we carry doesn’t make us dangerous.” Her gaze didn’t waver. “The choices we make do.”

“It’s not armament,” she continued, eyes returning to the marine, steady and unflinching. “It’s identity.”

Ensign Skye Shepherd
Science Officer
U.S.S. Chimera - 98730 (Mjolnir Class)

Ne looked at the weapon, he shook his head. “No exceptions normally, it should be kept in your quarters, hold on to it keep it where It can be seen, We’ll let the Colonel make that call, If you would both follow me.”

They wove through various coridors and gang ways marines everywhere going about thier daily work. He stopped short of the Colonels office, “Sir, Two feelt to see you” he said.

Halmond and Kilo walked over and opened the door. Kilo sat staring at the new poeple standing at the door wand watched them with K9 intensity. “Thank you private, dismissed.” he said smiling. “Come in” he said moving back to his desk. “help youselves to some coffee”

Colonel Jaxon ‘Hawk’ Hammond
Commander 7th Marine Expeditionary Unit “Iron Valkyries” (CAG)

Nytha’rae noticed the shift in the room immediately.

Not fear.

Not hostility.

Assessment.

Everything about Colonel Hammond’s office reflected it—clean lines, deliberate order, the quiet atmosphere of someone accustomed to command under pressure. Even the large canine beside him carried that same controlled alertness.

Nytha’kae remained perched calmly across her shoulders, bioluminescent markings faintly pulsing beneath the lighting. The little dragon’s gaze tracked Kilo with open curiosity rather than challenge. Predator recognizing predator.

Nytha’rae stepped fully into the office without tension, though there was unmistakable awareness in the way she carried herself. Not military.

Grounded.

The obsidian blade still rested across both palms.

Not hidden.

Not threatening.

Honest.

At Hammond’s invitation, her eyes flicked briefly toward the coffee before returning to him.

“I do not believe your marines would survive my tea,” she said lightly, dry warmth beneath the words.

Then she approached slowly enough to respect both Hammond and Kilo’s space.

“The private was correct to stop us,” she continued calmly. “Protocols exist for reasons. Especially before conflict.”

She lowered the blade carefully onto the edge of the desk between them.

Primitive by Federation standards perhaps—but unmistakably old. Intentional. The kind of object shaped by culture long before modern technology.

Nytha’rae rested two fingers lightly against the obsidian surface.

“This is not a ceremonial decoration,” she explained plainly. “It is a memory object. A survival object.”

Her gaze lifted steadily to Hammond’s.

“Among my people, carrying such a blade means you understand the responsibility of ending life… and therefore avoid doing so carelessly.”

Nytha’kae shifted slightly on her shoulders, tail curling once against the back of her collar.

“But your marine is also correct,” she added. “Meaning does not erase danger.”

Her eyes moved briefly toward Kilo.

Then back.

“I will obey whatever ruling you make.”

No challenge.

No defensiveness.

Just respect between professionals.

A brief silence passed before she spoke again, quieter now.

“I do not enjoy weapons, Colonel Hammond.”

One hand lifted away from the blade.

“But I distrust those who have never carried one and still speak easily about war.”

That statement settled heavily—not dramatic, simply true.

Then her posture shifted slightly as she returned to the actual purpose of her visit.

“The real reason I came here is less dramatic,” she said, the faintest trace of amusement touching her voice. “I wished to request cross-training between portions of my department and your marines.”

Focus returned fully.

“My people are scientists, field researchers, ecological specialists. Some have never operated under active combat conditions.”

A slight tilt of her head followed.

“But Scallax is unlikely to care what color uniform they wear.”

She folded her hands loosely behind her back.

“I would like them trained enough to survive an extraction, assist medical triage if necessary, recognize ambush indicators, maintain formation discipline, and avoid becoming liabilities if conditions deteriorate.”

A small pause.

“And in return, I believe my department could provide your marines with useful environmental and biological fieldcraft.”

The faintest glimmer of humor returned.

“Several of your people appear convinced every glowing plant in the galaxy is attempting to kill them.”

A beat.

“To be fair… many are.”

LT.JG Nytha’ray

Kilo sat next to Hammon watching the two new entries, her tail swished back and forth as she watched the new creature dance around the shoulders of the new officer. She was far to disciplined to react but she was curious.

“I think that would be a great idea” hammond said, looking at the knife on his desk. “May I?” he asked

Colonel Jaxon ‘Hawk’ Hammond
Commander 7th Marine Expeditionary Unit “Iron Valkyries” (CAG)

Nytha’rae’s gaze lowered briefly toward the knife resting on Hammond’s desk.

Nytha’kae immediately leaned down from her shoulders as well, tiny claws tightening slightly against the fabric of her uniform while the little dragon studied the human colonel with intense fascination. His bioluminescent markings gave a soft pulse beneath the office lighting.

There was no hesitation from Nytha’rae.

Only consideration.

Then she gave a small nod.

“You may.”

Her voice remained calm and even, though there was unmistakable significance in the permission itself.

She stepped closer to the desk—not possessive, but attentive—as Hammond reached toward the obsidian blade.

Up close, the weapon looked even stranger.

The blade itself was volcanic glass worked with remarkable precision, black enough to reflect the overhead light like dark water. Along the edge, faint iridescent mineral veins shimmered blue-green when viewed from certain angles. The handle was wrapped in dark scaled leather rather than replicated material, worn smooth from years of handling.

Not decorative.

Used.

Nytha’rae rested one hand lightly against the desk as Hammond examined it.

“It was shaped by hand,” she explained quietly. “Not manufactured.”

A faint pause followed.

“My mother taught me how to make one before she allowed me to carry one.”

At the mention of her mother, Nytha’kae gave a soft clicking trill deep in his throat, almost as if recognizing the memory attached to the object.

Nytha’rae’s expression softened slightly at the sound before her attention returned to Hammond.

“Among my people,” she continued, “a blade is not considered honorable because it kills.”

Her golden eyes flicked briefly toward the obsidian edge.

“It is honorable because once drawn… you must choose very carefully what happens next.”

Kilo’s tail continued its slow measured swish nearby, the military canine watching both the dragon and the knife with disciplined intensity.

A quiet pause settled over the office before Nytha’rae spoke again, this time more carefully.

“There is… another matter tied to the training request.”

Her posture remained composed, though there was now unmistakable seriousness beneath her calm tone.

“I do not use energy-based weapons,” she said plainly. “My people believe such weapons poison the soul and disrupt the environment around them.”

Nytha’kae shifted slightly at her shoulders, his glow dimming as if reacting to the weight of the subject.

Nytha’rae folded one hand lightly behind her back.

“I will not order my officers to use energy weapons if they do not wish to.” No apology existed in the statement. Only conviction. “Some may choose differently after serving within Starfleet. Others will not.”

Her gaze remained steady on Hammond.

“But they are still Starfleet officers. Scientists. Medics. Explorers.”

A faint tilt of her head followed.

“Can we find workarounds for myself and any of my team who do not wish to use such destructive weapons?”

The question hung there openly.

Professional.

Respectful.

But deeply important to her.

LT.JG Nytha’rae