Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Otr’Iq Mirai (Tactical) in Main Sim: Back on the Genesis

Posted by Gamemaster GM Kate (GMT) in Main Sim: Back on the Genesis

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Otr’Iq Mirai (Tactical) in Main Sim: Back on the Genesis
Posted by… suppressed (14) by the Post Ghost! 👻
While all the officers were dirt side on the planet, only one officer was left on the ship. Otr’lq Mirai was the proverbial odd man out. He was a recent transfer and since he was lacking one of his check in’s to be officially on duty, Calvin had used this to keep him on the ship. Having every officer off the ship didn’t sit well with him so Calvin had used the rules and regulations this time to his favor and left the conn to the tactical officer.

This was not what mirai had been expecting.

He had thought this transfer was to be a quiet research assignment, a position for him to keep his nose clean while the Husqvarna incident cooled down. Now, before he was even fully acclimated and through onboarding, he was manning the con while the senior officers were planetside. He took the position, expecting them back before long, then 24 hours passed and not a word. Mirai was getting anxious.

The bridge doors parted with their signature hiss, and Edelu stepped through with measured purpose.

His uniform was crisp, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his movements—shoulders tighter than usual, brow furrowed in quiet focus. He scanned the room, noting the absence of the senior staff. Only junior officers manned the stations, their eyes bouncing from monitors to one another like static electricity searching for a ground.

Mirai turned his head to see what looked like a Vulcan step through the doors. He took a moment to recognize the Mintaken medical officer from his personnel file.

“Comms silence for nearly twenty-four hours.” The words had been passed along in Sickbay, but hearing them hadn’t quite done justice to the weight of what that meant. He hadn’t intended to come to the bridge—he wasn’t command staff—but when the usual chatter from planetside never resumed, and his requests for updates had been met with quiet shrugs, he’d made his way here without waiting for an invitation.

Mirai stood from the center chair and gave a slight bow of his head. “Sir,” He said, “No news of the landing party yet. We should start considering our options-“

He stepped closer to the conn, his dark eyes catching the light from the main display.

The comms officer spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Sir,” the comms officer stated out loud to the bridge. “I am finally getting a signal but it is not from the Captain or the away team. It is from someone named Lt Zach Dean. I ran his name through the database and there was a Lt. Dean stationed on Beltran with the last ship that visited here but there is no record he left the planet with that ship or reference to him being on planet in any of the debriefings. Should I put it through?” It had been close to 24 hours since there had been any communication from the away team.

GM Kate

Mirai’s eyes widened, thinking through the possibilities of the message.

Edelu’s jaw tensed slightly at the name. He stepped forward—his voice calm but carrying the weight of a senior officer unused to standing still when people were in danger.

“Put it through,” he said. “And route audio to internal backup recorders. If this is the only thread we’ve got—” he paused, his voice softening, “—we follow it.”

He took a step toward the center of the bridge, eyes fixed on the viewer, pulse quickening beneath the surface. He didn’t like mysteries. Especially not when they involved missing people.

And especially not when those people were his crew.

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

=/\=I repeat this is Lt. Zach Dean. We are under attack and need an immediate beam out. Coordinates 5928.35 by 8123.9. We need a team sent to the Imperial Palace. The Captain is under attack.=/\= The words were a jumbled broken mess due to the atmospheric storms surrounding the planet but they were clear enough to be understood.

“Sir,” the bridge officer stated to Edelu, “Shuttles are not able to get through the turbulence but we may be able to beam you and Mirai into the palace. It could be dangerous.”

GM Kate

Edelu’s jaw tightened further at the sound of Lieutenant Dean’s fractured transmission. The static, the desperation—it all scraped at nerves he’d spent years burying beneath a physician’s calm.

His hands flexed once at his sides before he straightened and turned toward the Ops station.

“Belay that beam-down for now,” he said, voice firm. “Let’s not jump into a fire when we might be able to pull our people out of it.”

He crossed to the console with practiced urgency, his gaze fixed on the readout.

“Ops—can we get a transporter lock on the away team? Use those coordinates Dean gave us. I want every trick in the book: biofilters, pattern enhancement, signal triangulation. I don’t care if you have to bounce it off the moon.”

Then, with a glance toward the Science station: “And get me a read on their vitals. I need to know who’s still breathing before we start throwing people into that storm.”

His tone held no panic—but every syllable was laced with intent. Edelu didn’t rush blindly into chaos. He worked to pull people out of it.

“If there’s any chance we can beam them out safely,” he said, more quietly now, “that’s our first play. We go down only if we have no other choice.”

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

Mirai looked from the bridge officer to the doctor, “A very reserved plan sir,” Mirai said, “And one we should implement as soon as possible, if we do not intend to beam down ourselves.” Mirai personally would have preferred jumping into the fray, but he knew Edelu’s plan was the safer course of action. “Let us know as soon as you have a lock on all Star Fleet personnel,” Mirai said to the bridge officer, then to comms, he said, “Open a channel to Dean.” =/\=Lt. Dean, This is Lt. Mirai on the USS Genesis. We are targeting you and our crew at the coordinates you gave and will be beaming you aboard. Hold for Transporter lock!=/\=

Lt. JG Mirai
Tactical

The response was immediate =^=XO Here, Belay that for now. Keep a lock on and get a lock on the Beltrans with us. Diplomatic protocols Mr. Mirai. If you can reach out to any other Starfleet forces dirtside. We are currently not under direct threat=^=

XO

Edelu’s eyes narrowed subtly as the XO’s voice came through—measured, composed, and curiously calm given the earlier distress call.

“Not under direct threat?” The phrase stuck in his mind like a splinter.

He stepped back from the Ops console, folding his arms slowly, brows knitting. Something about the tone didn’t sit right. It wasn’t that he doubted the XO’s authority—or judgment—but the inconsistency between the fractured plea from Lt. Dean and the current dismissal of danger was difficult to reconcile.

His voice, when he spoke again, was calm, but there was a thoughtful weight behind it.

“Unusual, don’t you think?” he said, his gaze flicking toward Mirai. “A few moments ago we had screaming static and a call for immediate evacuation. Now it’s… ‘not under direct threat.’”

Mirai shared the look with Edulu. “Unusual to say the least, sir.”

He didn’t accuse, just observed. But the undercurrent of unease was there.

He turned back toward the viewscreen, jaw tightening again, though not as sharply this time. This was diplomacy now, not just medicine. And that changed the terrain.

Still… he didn’t like sitting idle. Not when something felt off.

Edelu drew a breath, then turned again toward Mirai, his tone quiet but clear.

“If this calm holds, I say we wait. But if not…”

A pause, then a shift.

“Perhaps we should prepare to go down ourselves. Medical, tactical—one of each. Enough to lend aid, but not escalate.”

He met Mirai’s eyes directly.

“But if we make that call, I’d rather it be mutual. I’d value your read on the situation, Lieutenant. Would you go?”

He asked it simply, without pressure, a subtle thread of trust woven through the words.

The choice wasn’t his alone.

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

“That may be wise.” Mirai said, feeling himself drawn to the action below, but not wanting to leave the ship so understaffed. “Ensign! He said to the communications officer,
“Respond to Lt. Commander Pétursson.” =/\=Sir, this is Mirai responding again, We received an urgent distress call from a Lt. Dean requesting assistance. Please confirm if you have made contact with this officer and what your current situation entails. Lt. Cmdr Edelu and myself are ready to beam down to provide assistance if necessary.=/\= Mirai turned to Edelu and shrugged, “Let’s give them some time to respond. I’m inclined to lean towards the Lt. Cmdr’s orders over an unknown Lieutenant, but we should be ready with our response either way.” He turned again to the communications officer, “Patch through communications to Transporter room one. If either Lt. Cmdr Pétursson or Lt. Dean hail us again, put them through there. Lt. Cmdr,” he said to Edelu, “will you join me in the transporter room for potential beam down?”

Lt. JG Mirai
Tactical

Enough time passed for the two officers to head to the transporter room. By the time they got their, the transporter chief had a frustrated look on his face. “Sirs we are getting a hail from Lt Dean. Touching a button on the comm Dean’s voice crackled along with the sound of phaser fire.

=/\= What the hell is wrong with you all up their? Does it sound like I am trying to order a pizza? Get the away team to the palace=/\=. The sound of a scuffle ensued before it clicked off.

“Sir our initial scans and reports correlate to the bio signatures of our crew and the Beltrans but I am also detecting two more bio signatures. One I can not explain but the other is…Gorn.”

GM Kate

Mirai walked in and was immediately greeted by the Transporter officer and Lt. Dean’s urgent transmission. “Gorn?” Mirai said stepping over to the console, “What in the devil is going on here?”

=/\=Lt. Dean, respond! Have you made contact with the Genesis landing party?=/\=
“Open a channel to Lt. Cmdr Pétursson.”
=/\= Genesis to Lt. Cmdr Pétursson. Please respond. We are receiving reports of a siege at the palace. Do you require assistance?=/\=

Something wasn’t adding up here. How were they getting such drastically differing reports from the planet? Surely, if things were as under control as Pétursson said, he would have Lt. Dean under control, if not sedated if necessary. And if Dean was correct, then Pétursson would have taken action, not kept calm about it. And then there was the strange readings from the transporter. A mysterious life form and a Gorn? Mirai did not like this at all.

-Lt. JG Mirai
Tactical

The doors parted with a hiss.

Edelu entered with both arms full—two Type-3 phaser rifles, cradled against his chest like something far more delicate than weapons. His steps were measured, almost silent, as if noise itself might invite misfortune.

Mirai looked up from the consile to see Edelu and his twin rifles. He was frankly too stunned to offer more than a raised eyebrow.

He offered one rifle to Mirai with no flourish, only a brief, grave nod. The other he slung awkwardly over his shoulder. Not clumsy, not unfamiliar—but far from second nature. The heft of it was foreign, and he wore it like a borrowed oath.

Mirai took his rifle with expertise and familiarity, a sharp contrast to the way the physician now carried his.

“Set coordinates for the Imperial Palace,” he said, voice calm, precise.

“Sir,” Mirai began, aware that Edelu outranked him, “Perhaps we should wait for-“

The transporter chief didn’t move immediately. Edelu stepped onto the pad before the hesitation could lengthen.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight not of the weapon, but of what it meant.

He was a healer by oath and by nature. His hands were taught to mend torn flesh, to cradle the dying, to pull breath back into broken lungs. They were not made for this posture—rifle at the ready, spine aligned in the stance of a soldier.

Yet here he stood.

Because when others were in danger, Edelu went. Not for violence. Not for glory. But because healing, sometimes, began with stepping into the fire to carry someone out.

Mirai saw the doctor take his position on the platform and sighed. the thought occured to him of the optics of the situation. A Mintaken heading into battle when a Klingon would not? While Mirai tried not to allow such ancestral dictates to govern him, even he had a line that could not be crossed. He stepped onto the platform next to Edelu and held his rifle across his chest. He gave a nod to the transporter chief.

He brought the rifle down into a firing position—awkward, yes, but steady enough—and gave the order, low and unwavering:

“Energize.”

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

Mirai looked sideways at Edelu and his stance and gently reached over to adjust the doctor by the barrel of his rifle so that he was not quite so eager looking. “Perhaps we should not go in quite so itchy, Lt. Cmdr.” Mirai offered, “Please Chief, beam us down.”

Lt. JG Mirai
Tactical

OOC: It was a bit forced on my part, but I realized the poor GM has been trying to get us down on the planet for a bit. I always try to run through scenarios, calculate risk, etc. Sometimes I have to remind myself to suspend my instincts and let it happen. lol. Is it wrong of me to actually LOVE the image of Klingon basically saying to a Mintaken, “bro, chill?”

OOC: I am adoring writing with both of you. I love your enthusiasm and spontaneity so I am going to run with it. You both are the best. ~ Kate

Well let the GM beam us into the other thread when they are ready. I’m loving writing with you btw.

-Harley

=^=There was a siege, Hostilities are ended, and we’re about to begin negotiations. Try to raise Dean again and calm his nerves, Peterson Romeo-Alpha-two-five-Echo=^= He ended the call with his primary all clear code.

XO

OOC: I am also enjoying the image. Kind of like “I am unused to this whole violence thing, but here we go!” And then the klingon just like, “Love the enthusiasm, but let’s not shoot the captain upon beam down.”

IC:
Just as they were about to be beamed down, Peterson’s message came through, once again showcasing a calm and collected scenario directly opposed to the scene painted by Lt. Dean.
“Hu’tegh!” Mirai swore as he stepped off the trasnporter, “What is going on here?” =/\=Bridge! Get me a line directly to Lt. Dean and keep him there!=/\= He then turned to the transporter chief and said, “Chief, get me those readings again. And see if you can isolate where this Lt. Dean is in respect to the rest of the landing party.”

Lt. JG Mirai
Tactical

“Yes Sir but I am not the chief. I am his assistant. Getting that for you now,” the man said flipping a button. It had been a fluke that he was standing in this place at this time. The transportation chief proper had not left his station in almost 24 hours and only the nurse on duty forced him to get something to eat and sleep for two hours. Her promise that nothing was going to happen in that time and if it did they could recall him was going to go down in ship history as the running joke of What could possible happen if you take a nap and eat a snack.

“Okay I have,” he said before transporter lines began to form around the two officers. The last thing they would hear was the transporter officer stay “oh shiiiii” before they were suddenly transported on the the surface of the planet.

GM Kate.

OOC: Okay since you are both new I will say that I tend to leave open one thread while I start another one. This lets people comment if they chose before the move to the new thread. I am going to actively write you into the thread titled. Main Sim: Back at the Beltran Imperial palace. So leave any comments if you chose to here but pick up the main thread under the title I just listed. I hope this makes sense. If it doesn’t reach out and PM me. This is my GMT so its a learning process for me :)

~ Kate

As the transporter beam began to form around them, Mirai began to reach out for the transporter officer, but was caught in the beam. He heard and saw the transporter officer’s alarm and new something was terribly wrong

Lt. JG Mirai
Tactical

Mirai rematerialized suddenly back on the ship felt a wave of disorientation. For the second time that day he had been unexpectantly ripped from space via transporter. It was beginning to damage his calm. A hand to his temple, he stumbled from the transporter and looked to the others. “What is going on?” He said, mostly out of frustration, momentarily forgetting he was speaking to his superiors.

LT JG Otr’Iq Mirai
Tactical Officer