doctor beverly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dancingmd) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-10-11 07:58 pm
dancingmd) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-10-11 07:58 pm
memory share: network + action; ota
who: Beverly Crusher and you
what: Memory Share Event
when: October 9-23
where: anywhere around the city
warnings: This is a Borg-centric post. For those who aren't canon familiar, the Borg are a race of cyborgs who add to their numbers through forced assimilation and operate on a hive mind - nothing will get too graphic though!
One evening this week, a sharp warning sound hits the network, followed by what appears to be a video announcement:
The memory ends as abruptly as it began, but as the days go on, more memories associated with it will crop up, whether it's during the day as a first person vision or in a shared dream at night - and it will slowly become more obvious who they belong to.
a. Borg Vessel
Endless rows of half-machine, half-organic beings - The Borg - line the walls, almost coffin-like. The ship is dark and eerily silent, except for a threatening mechanical whirring sound. Four people, all dressed in similar uniforms, huddle with backs together and weapons out. Borg march down the corridor towards them as others detach themselves from their alcoves to join in the attack. All four people fire their weapons, beams of light hitting their attackers and sending them crumpling to the floor. However, the next wave of Borg throw up some sort of force field around themselves, scattering the rest of the shots harmlessly.
One of the four, a blonde Human woman and the only one wearing red, calls for help. Prepare to beam us back. The others barely seem to register her words. For there, at the end of the corridor is a familiar face - the one who called himself Locutus.
But that’s not the name that’s called out to him. “Jean-Luc!” He turns, fixing a beam of light on the group like the laser sight on a gun. The woman who called out instinctively moves towards him, her own weapon lowered, but she’s stopped, first by a hand on her arm, then by the pull of the transporter.
b. Science Lab
A young man, half machine, half bewildered teenager, stands inside some sort of scanner at the center of the room. Facing him with apprehensive expressions are a man and a woman. The teenager blinks slowly, first at the woman, then at the man. “What is your designation?” he asks him.
“Designation?”
The young man brings his hand to his chest, in order to indicate himself, prompting them with, “Third of Five.”
The woman looks at him with no small amount of wonder. This is not how she expected him to act. It pleases her, but worries her as well. “You mean our names. We don't have designations: we have names.” She gestures first to herself, then to her fellow officer. “I'm Beverly... this is Geordi.”
Third of Five considers this for a long moment before asking his next question: “Do I... have a name?”
Beverly and Geordi look at each other, both surprised. Geordi asks, “Do you want one?”
Though he remains uncertain, Third of Five is clearly intrigued by the notion. So, after some discussion, they settle on a name: Hugh. Beverly smiles with genuine warmth. Let's try this again.
“All right... I'm Beverly.” She points to Geordi. His turn.
“I'm Geordi.”
Beverly then points to Hugh, who responds, “We are Hugh.” Beverly's grin grows wider and Geordi chuckles.
c. Bridge of the Enterprise
Klaxons are sounding and there's a sense of urgency among the crew, an element of fear just under the surface of their professionalism. Beverly stands in center of everything, very clearly in command based on her stance, her tone, and the way the others defer to her. There's talk of evacuations and missing crewmates and then the man standing at the computer console behind her announces, “The Borg ship is powering up its weapons array.”
Watching the approach of the other ship on the large view screen in front of her, Beverly's next words sound almost like a prayer. “Come on, Chief. It's now or never.”
Another crewmember, a woman this time, reports, “They're preparing to fire!”
Beverly takes her seat in the captain's chair, bracing for impact. “Raise shields!”
Too late. The whole ship shakes with the ensuing explosion. The port nacelle has been hit and their warp engines are down. Running is not an option. Tense with the knowledge that the entire crew's lives are in her hands right now, Beverly nonetheless remains calm, in control of both herself and her officers. She runs through the standard options in a situation such as this: shields, evasive maneuvers, phasers. Nothing works. The Enterprise shakes again and again, their shields failing further with each hit. They are no match for the Borg, not going head to head like this. If only they had a place to hide, time to regroup - that's it!
“Helm, set a new course, heading three four four mark six. Full impulse.”
“Sir!” The crewman stares at her for a moment in disbelief. “That heading takes us directly into the sun!”
Eyes forward, hands clutching the armrests of the chair, Beverly doesn't answer. All she is right now is pure determination.
(ooc: If you want a personalized memory for your character/just not something Borg related, send me a PM to this journal or on plurk at curiouslyenough and we'll work stuff out!)
what: Memory Share Event
when: October 9-23
where: anywhere around the city
warnings: This is a Borg-centric post. For those who aren't canon familiar, the Borg are a race of cyborgs who add to their numbers through forced assimilation and operate on a hive mind - nothing will get too graphic though!
One evening this week, a sharp warning sound hits the network, followed by what appears to be a video announcement:
The memory ends as abruptly as it began, but as the days go on, more memories associated with it will crop up, whether it's during the day as a first person vision or in a shared dream at night - and it will slowly become more obvious who they belong to.
a. Borg Vessel
Endless rows of half-machine, half-organic beings - The Borg - line the walls, almost coffin-like. The ship is dark and eerily silent, except for a threatening mechanical whirring sound. Four people, all dressed in similar uniforms, huddle with backs together and weapons out. Borg march down the corridor towards them as others detach themselves from their alcoves to join in the attack. All four people fire their weapons, beams of light hitting their attackers and sending them crumpling to the floor. However, the next wave of Borg throw up some sort of force field around themselves, scattering the rest of the shots harmlessly.
One of the four, a blonde Human woman and the only one wearing red, calls for help. Prepare to beam us back. The others barely seem to register her words. For there, at the end of the corridor is a familiar face - the one who called himself Locutus.
But that’s not the name that’s called out to him. “Jean-Luc!” He turns, fixing a beam of light on the group like the laser sight on a gun. The woman who called out instinctively moves towards him, her own weapon lowered, but she’s stopped, first by a hand on her arm, then by the pull of the transporter.
b. Science Lab
A young man, half machine, half bewildered teenager, stands inside some sort of scanner at the center of the room. Facing him with apprehensive expressions are a man and a woman. The teenager blinks slowly, first at the woman, then at the man. “What is your designation?” he asks him.
“Designation?”
The young man brings his hand to his chest, in order to indicate himself, prompting them with, “Third of Five.”
The woman looks at him with no small amount of wonder. This is not how she expected him to act. It pleases her, but worries her as well. “You mean our names. We don't have designations: we have names.” She gestures first to herself, then to her fellow officer. “I'm Beverly... this is Geordi.”
Third of Five considers this for a long moment before asking his next question: “Do I... have a name?”
Beverly and Geordi look at each other, both surprised. Geordi asks, “Do you want one?”
Though he remains uncertain, Third of Five is clearly intrigued by the notion. So, after some discussion, they settle on a name: Hugh. Beverly smiles with genuine warmth. Let's try this again.
“All right... I'm Beverly.” She points to Geordi. His turn.
“I'm Geordi.”
Beverly then points to Hugh, who responds, “We are Hugh.” Beverly's grin grows wider and Geordi chuckles.
c. Bridge of the Enterprise
Klaxons are sounding and there's a sense of urgency among the crew, an element of fear just under the surface of their professionalism. Beverly stands in center of everything, very clearly in command based on her stance, her tone, and the way the others defer to her. There's talk of evacuations and missing crewmates and then the man standing at the computer console behind her announces, “The Borg ship is powering up its weapons array.”
Watching the approach of the other ship on the large view screen in front of her, Beverly's next words sound almost like a prayer. “Come on, Chief. It's now or never.”
Another crewmember, a woman this time, reports, “They're preparing to fire!”
Beverly takes her seat in the captain's chair, bracing for impact. “Raise shields!”
Too late. The whole ship shakes with the ensuing explosion. The port nacelle has been hit and their warp engines are down. Running is not an option. Tense with the knowledge that the entire crew's lives are in her hands right now, Beverly nonetheless remains calm, in control of both herself and her officers. She runs through the standard options in a situation such as this: shields, evasive maneuvers, phasers. Nothing works. The Enterprise shakes again and again, their shields failing further with each hit. They are no match for the Borg, not going head to head like this. If only they had a place to hide, time to regroup - that's it!
“Helm, set a new course, heading three four four mark six. Full impulse.”
“Sir!” The crewman stares at her for a moment in disbelief. “That heading takes us directly into the sun!”
Eyes forward, hands clutching the armrests of the chair, Beverly doesn't answer. All she is right now is pure determination.
(ooc: If you want a personalized memory for your character/just not something Borg related, send me a PM to this journal or on plurk at curiouslyenough and we'll work stuff out!)
c
In his time, he was sometimes regarded as a genius but all of this? Was so far beyond him it made him a little dizzy, especially with the screen, the room- ship- shaking. The closest thing he could relate it to was the Germans and their Panzer. An armored land vehicle but this wasn't land. Very little of what he heard or saw was making sense but he did understand 'directly into the sun!'
His eyes widened.
"The sun-?"
no subject
The dream version of her explains everything to her concerned officers. She wants to use something called metaphasic shielding, which would allow them to enter the sun's corona and hide there. Even the Borg haven't encountered such technology yet. There's some concern the program isn't ready, but in the end, the Borg ship is forced to break off pursuit, though they lie in wait for the Enterprise to re-emerge.
Real Beverly sighs sadly. "Poor Dr. Reyga. I couldn't save him, but he saved us that day."
no subject
"Dr. Reyga? Was he the one that developed- what did you call it? Metaphasic shielding?"
And how intent on getting this ship and crew were those Borg? Could they enact repairs while hiding in the sun?
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"My condolences, doctor. What he did though, it saved all these lives, didn't it?" The fact that she was still alive gave him confidence in that.
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He had a personal policy not to mourn the dead, not if he could help it anymore, but he wouldn't let that color his words here. He respect Beverly enough for that.
no subject
The dream Beverly is deep in conversation with two of her officers, who seem to be in disagreement with one another. The real Beverly can't help but smile fondly as she watches them. Taitt, especially. She was so proud of her.
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"You did very well." He commented, still watching. "Not many people are capable of keeping a level head in any high-stress situation like that. Is everyone here part of the military?"
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"Shouldn't you have a proper escort than? In case of situations like this?"
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You know, not doing what England did.
"Besides," she says proudly, "The Enterprise is the best ship and best crew in the fleet!"
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He does take a glance around, the pride not missed. Admittedly, it was impressive but that was him. And it didn't seem like bias, her pride in the ship. "Seeing what happened, I believe you."
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"Just wait until you see this next part!"
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He glances to Beverly, good eye going a little wide. He absolutely trusts Beverly but that sounds a bit concerning. He doesn't know whether he should be excited, and it's been such a long time since he had been excited, or afraid. Or something else.
"What's going to happen?"
no subject
After a moment of calibrations and calculations, a solar flare erupts from the corona, striking the Borg cube dead on. A collective sigh of relief floods through everyone.
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Ciel stumbles back in surprise, one hand going to grasp at Beverly's sleeve. The grasp only lasts a moment though, the young Earl muttering his apologies immediately after. He doesn't like leaving himself open like that.
"Are they dead?"
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She searches his face for a minute. "They're gone,but are you okay?"
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"I'm fine." He gives her a smile, not quite a childish one but genuine. "I'm just not used to anything of this sort, it took me by surprise."
And then a laugh. "Honestly, I'm adjusting to 'movies' still. I'm not sure I could have been prepared for this!"
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"Startling I can handle. Frightening? I've seen far worse." His still smiles, as if this is perfectly normal. "I think you'll have to actually work at frightening me."
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"If I do, I know I have a few people I can call on for help."
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While they've been talking, the Enterprise, having destroyed the Borg ship, is moving back out of the sun's corona and the dream is getting fuzzy and blurred, like a glitching holo-program. "I think we're about to wake up."
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It's almost freeing.
He glances at everything as it blurs, instinct having him rub at his good eye before she speaks up again.
"Ah- then allow me to wish you pleasant dreams after this. And I hope you don't suffer too many night visitors like this."
(no subject)