Commodore T'Kirr

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Bondmate's Intuition - Epilogue

Postby Liz White » Fri Apr 22, 2016 1:27 am

by T'Kirr as Brooke Zuriyev

Brooke’s thoughts were on Alexi Zuriyev, and try as she might, she could see no feasible way to find out what was going on with him. She needed his help with this mystery as he was always good at this kind of thing, but it wasn’t an option in this case. Reliving yesterday’s conversation with Ian and T’Kirr didn’t yield any clues, either. She blinked and sighed, realizing she hadn’t read a word of the document in front of her, and attempted to press the distracting personal thoughts out of her mind so she could concentrate on the PADD on her desk. Mitochondria ratio of an Andorian--yes, that’s right, she was referencing the medical database.

An alert from an incoming message on her computer caught her attention. Thinking it most likely a disgruntled request from an associate in Short Term Care wanting an update on the very case she was supposed to be working on, Brooke’s immediate response was to ignore it until she had something to give him. Groaning out loud, she instead accessed the message, chastising herself with a reminder that she should have had this to him an hour ago and should probably apologize to him.

The color drained from Brooke’s face as she read the message over a second, then third time. The shuttlecraft transporting Vice Admiral Ian Blackthorne and Captain T’Kirr had been in an accident. No survivors. The timing could not have been a coincidence, and she immediately knew that it was no accident. Staring at the screen in shock and disbelief, Brooke could only manage a whisper.

“I’ve killed them…”
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Re: XO Captain T'Kirr

Postby Holly Kolodziejczak » Fri Apr 22, 2016 10:23 pm

I read this last night, but for some reason it felt like commenting on the final post in the thread of a dead character would be treading on hallowed ground.

However, upon reflection, it's more important to me to give you the kudos you deserve for this truly haunting capstone to an unbelievable story.

Ian and T'Kirr were such a solid foundation and were individually such strong characters and mentors, their presence will be sorely, sorely missed.
I'm frustrated with my own inability to find the right words here, but... please know that those two definitely made their mark.

This finale is going to stick with me. What an amazingly well-crafted epilogue. Superb work, Liz, for reals.

Sad CSO is sad. :eng99:
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A New Home

Postby Liz White » Sun Sep 25, 2016 8:08 pm

by T’Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

T’Kirr shivered as the morning sun worked to warm her back and fight off the chilly air. She crouched down in the loose soil, focusing carefully near the small sticks she had placed in orderly rows. Despite the need to adapt, let it not be said she had lost her methodical way of doing things. Try as she might, though, she could not see any sign that the young seedlings were germinating. Sighing slowly in a way she found calmed her, T’Kirr rubbed her hands down her arms and looked out over the rest of her struggling garden.

The potato-like plants seemed to be doing well, but not much else. Some of the species that would have tall stalks would take more time, T’Kirr reasoned, but considering they were planning long-term, she had begun planting some of everything she could find as soon as possible. As far as she could tell, she and Ian had fortunately arrived near the start of the growing season, but until she had more experience with the local flora, it would be the application of logic, trial and error.

Her eyes turned towards the untilled patch that was next on her list. Well, these holes won’t dig themselves, she imagined Ian saying. There was much to do, and she wanted to start early to take advantage of as much daylight as possible. She really couldn’t complain as the days were very nice where they now lived, and the mornings helped to keep them cool while doing manual labor. Picking up the small shovel, she began digging.

The small garden wasn’t too much work, but other things had proven difficult without the tools they were used to having access to. She had even on more than one occasion selfishly wished Lieutenant Kuari had been stranded with them, lending her beast-like strength to their projects. Even now, just having her claws to dig holes faster would be immensely helpful.

After creating eight orderly holes for new seeds, T’Kirr straightened her back and looked out to the horizon. Her secondary eyelids flickered shut as the sun’s rays cast out across the ocean not far away. Dappled beams fluttered between the fronds of tropical plants that swayed in the breeze from the shoreline. It was a beautiful place, but it was wild. Ian and T’Kirr had relied heavily on their survival training, despite the sturdy but small prefabricated unit they were given to live in.

T’Kirr pressed her hand to the wall of their home, and she found herself thankful for what they had. She could feel the vibrations of the water wheel that used the building as a support on the other side, where the stream flowed by on its way out to sea. Ian and T’Kirr had built it to create electricity, something they had not been given. Their original intention was to have a way to power a transmitter, but it quickly became clear that they would not have the parts to build one. Over the past few months, it seemed the wheel would be necessary long-term as they found themselves settling into their new existence.

Life on Atlantis seemed to be so long ago, and would now stay firmly in their past. It ended literally with an explosion, her memory of it filtered through the transporter beam that had whisked her and Ian away at the last possible second. T’Kirr shut her eyes and pulled in a shaky breath as the terrible memories of what had been done to them invaded her mind. Their captors had wanted information, and they had forcibly extracted it directly from their minds. The pain had been traumatic, and it haunted her every day. Her only solace was that it would continue to heal over time as they combined their Betazoid and Vulcan empathic and telepathic techniques, and they would be together through it.

Ian had left right at dawn in search of a suitable tree to harvest that would augment their wood supply, and she could sense his imminent return over their bond. A few minutes later, a scraping sound heralded his arrival, and T’Kirr walked past the corner of their house to see him dragging a small log with a harness that he had finished making the day before. He smiled when he saw her, put down the axe he was carrying, then worked his way out of the rig. “The new harness works well, but I’m glad I stayed in shape, because that’s still really heavy.” Ian sat down on the log and wiped at his brow.

“You have earned yourself a rest,” T’Kirr replied as she approached the log, surveying its size before sitting down on it next to him. “This much should last us for some time.”

Ian gulped water from the canteen he carried on his belt, then offered it to her. “I hope so. I wanted to bring a larger one, but this is as much as I could pull.”

“Even with what you can pull, don’t strain yourself too much.” T’Kirr took the canteen. “Less wood is better than more wood and a hurt back.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” He leaned back on the log, looking out at the sea, bathed in morning’s muted golden light. “How’s the garden?”

T’Kirr turned her head towards the frustratingly flat garden, pursing her lips in irritation momentarily before she chastised herself. As she had just recommended to Ian, she had to take each day at a time and couldn’t rush growth. “Nothing new to report. I plan to walk out to the southern valley and gather more later to complement the rations.”

Ian chuckled a bit at her tone, still so professional after these long months. He’d told her a while ago that they weren’t in Starfleet anymore and that he no longer outranked her. They had transitioned from a CO and XO team to only a normal husband and wife—equals, trying to survive together. Some of it must be Vulcan and the rest just habit, he concluded, before remembering something. “I know it is a bit more difficult for you, since you don’t eat meat, and the rations must be getting rather boring by now. I found a new fruit from the list, though, and it’s pretty tasty, so I brought you some.” He produced a few small, round, purple fruits from his pouch and offered them to her. Their captors had pre-screened the local plants and animals for any poisonous to them, and since they were left here with monthly supply drops instead of just being executed, he had no reason to distrust their report, which had been correct so far.

Pleasantly surprised, T’Kirr’s attention fixed to the fruits in Ian’s hand. She opened her palms to receive them and picked one up to get a closer look. Taste was the best test, however, and she was soon biting into one. It wasn’t terribly sweet, which she approved of, tasting nutritious and filling, and it reminded her of mencha from Vulcan. While she had only been able to obtain replicated versions aboard Atlantis for many years and this was actually fresh fruit, she couldn’t help but feel slightly melancholy about many of her favorites she would never again be able to have.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she nodded to Ian. “Thank you, it’s very good. Where did you find them?” Looking the way Ian had come from, T’Kirr hoped she could identify its source so that she could gather more later.

“A fair bit past the tree line, maybe a kilo or so, there’s a copse of them. I think I’ll throw some in the still and see how it affects the booze.” He smirked, squinting into the dawn, crow’s feet deepening around his eyes. “It’s not bad as-is, but what I wouldn’t give for a good single-malt scotch.”

It was comforting to know Ian’s thoughts were similar to hers in missing their favorite things. “I have yet to find a leaf suitable for steeping, too.” T’Kirr glanced at him, catching his eye. “While it is invigorating to an extent, I grow weary of having to discover everything anew. I find myself wishing to ‘take a break’ from it all and just have one night in our quarters with a replicator.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off. A few moments of silence later he added, “Of all the material things we’re missing, it ultimately comes down to tea and scotch. Rather appropriate, I suppose, but it does us no good to sit around missing our old lives when we can’t get them back.”

“Agreed.” T’Kirr sat up a bit straighter. “There are countless good ways to lead lives. One must merely overcome one’s attachment to past memories and embrace the present.” She eyed him fondly. “You did want to retire, after all.”

Ian laughed, nodding as he recalled their conversation while hiking on Risa. “That I did, but this wasn’t quite what I had in mind. This resort’s service is just terrible!” He scooted closer and put his arm around her shoulders. “It could be worse, though.”

“Indeed.” T’Kirr leaned into Ian’s side, gazing out at what they were beginning to call home. “I know Atlantis will get along without us. I know it’s very unlikely they’ll find out that we’re still alive, but I do find myself wondering if they yet know about the corruption within Starfleet.”

“They may not yet know, but if things continue the way they were, they’ll be faced with a conflict between following orders and doing what’s right. It depends on who is in command, of course, but I’d like to think they’ll do what’s right when the time comes to choose.” Ian let out a sigh before continuing, “Unfortunately, as much as I hate to say it, that’s no longer our problem. Then again, as selfish as it sounds against what may be happening to the Federation as a whole, it is somewhat freeing to only have two lives to worry about instead of over a thousand.”

While she would continue to be on Atlantis if she had a choice, T’Kirr had also given a lot of thought to what it would mean to compromise with Ian’s wishes of retirement. In this case, neither of them were given a choice, and the decision to leave service to Starfleet was thrust upon them. With it brought opportunities not otherwise suitably available to them, and the thought caused a warmth to spread through her body. “Would a third life encroach too much on that freeing feeling?”

“A third?” He wondered if she could possibly mean that—no, he would know, through their telepathic bond. Ian turned to face her, wearing a warm smile. “Are you asking if we should have a child?”

“I am.” T’Kirr met his eyes again briefly before looking around their slowly growing homestead. “If we work hard, we could make a good life for a child here, or wherever we decide to go. Practically speaking, it would be wise to have a younger generation to support us as we grow older.” She didn’t say that she would be left alone without him someday as she outlived him and would wish for further companionship, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he felt it from her anyway.

They had previously discounted the idea of having children because of the dangers their careers exposed them to, but now… well, Ian thought that it wasn’t a bad idea at all. There were, of course, considerations to be made for their situation, but he didn’t see anything that would be insurmountable. Ian had also always wished that he could have had a hand in raising his son, but that now fell under the category of things he couldn’t change. Ross had a good start and would do well, he imagined, and he’d at least gotten to spend some time with him in the past several years, but to be actually be given a chance to be a good father… he had to admit that T’Kirr may have found the real bright side to what had happened to them.

He tenderly slid his hand up to the back of her head, and leaned in to touch her forehead with his. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. We should give it some more thought, though, but I’m definitely open to the possibility.”

“Of course,” T’Kirr agreed softly, enjoying the moment close to Ian. “I am not quite ready, either. We need to settle in more first. But it is...something to look forward to?”

“It is, indeed. And things to look forward to have been in short supply, lately.” Ian could sense that she was pleased with his answer by the warmth radiating through their bond. “So, yes, by all means, let’s consider children when planning for the future in our new home.”
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Re: Captain T'Kirr

Postby Rodney Quinn » Mon Sep 26, 2016 12:56 am

Awww, how sweet. I GUESS we could ditch the rescue plans.

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Re: Captain T'Kirr

Postby Holly Kolodziejczak » Tue Sep 27, 2016 5:07 am

Wha.. CAPTORS?

O snap.

A delightful read, as always! I enjoyed the tender mental image of them sitting on a log and having such an intimate conversation on their lonely homestead, with the struggling garden alongside.
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Klingon Opera "Wurath'ja Thihnek"

Postby Liz White » Thu Apr 20, 2017 4:20 am

Since I had it in a file already as I created it, I figured I would post it here if anyone wishes it for reference of the event.
_____________________________
Star Trek: Atlantis Sim 4/19/2017

Klingon Opera "Wurath'ja Thihnek"
Performed on Q'onoS

The opera "Wurath'ja Thihnek" begins with a solitary male Klingon in full warrior garb illuminated in a clear spotlight, his baritone filling the auditorium with narrative, melodic tones.

The male Klingon finishes boistrously before leaving the stage, and the stage goes black. When the spotlight returns, it's on a woman wearing furs and a horned mask covering her face. Her song is powerfully sorrowful.

The opera moves on. The male lead is striding back and forth restlessly across the stage, singing a battle march and waving a bat'leth. Across the audience, people are making conversation over the loud volume of the music.

The Klingon on stage passes his hand behind his back, and what looks like a pile of meat drops behind his feet. The sound of squealing targs grows in volume until half a dozen are rushing towards the Klingon. He makes slow arcs with his bat'leth above his head, punctuating them with aggressive words. The targs gather and rummage restlessly at his feet, apparently eating the meat.

The spotlight turns red. In a feat of a well-timed crescendo and a more realistic aggressive slash of his bat'leth, the targs are scared off stage, and the Klingon raises his weapon in victory over his head. Audience members respond with fists in the air and a lot of raucous noise.

A second spotlight, this one white, illuminates nearby on the kneeling woman in the horned mask. Her sorrowful song reprises, and the male Klingon joins in, his part still that of a brave warrior. They sing to each other, the male approaching in slow steps.

The male Klingon places his bat'leth before the woman, his song lowering in volume, and pulls out a mek'leth from his belt. With a dramatic show of the smaller blade to the audience and more singing to each other, the pair join their brave/sorrowful song to an ear-splitting level before the blade passes over the woman's mask, and her spotlight flashes red.

The mask is pushed back off her head, and both spotlights turn white. There's a pregnant pause, a deep bass boom of the music, and the woman beams a brilliant smile. She stands, and the two begin singing joyfully together.

As the spotlights go black, the opera concludes with the audience cheering them on. The house lights go up, and conversation grows loud.

___________________
Those in attendance:

Captain T'Kirr
Captain Harper
Lieutenant Commander Wright
Major Wolfe
Lieutenant Ilaihr
Ensign Tailor


Near the Opera House:

Lieutenant T'Lira
Lieutenant Doctor Slade
Lieutenant Commander Kuari
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Re: XO Captain T'Kirr

Postby Luceo » Thu Apr 20, 2017 7:19 am

That was brilliant! Seeing something as creative as this happen just reaffirms how much I know the sim's in good hands when I can't attend. Bravo! Bravissimo! Qa'pla!
"Come let us sail the boundless sea..."

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