TOS RPG aka The USS Wellington

[Granitehewer]

They always said that space was the final frontier, but the strangest worlds are those of the mind.

You all awake which in itself might not seem untoward but in actuality none of you remember falling asleep, in fact the whole act of waking up seems alien and forgotten also. It is almost as if you've always been locked in this present, in this very moment frozen between seconds doomed in time's purgatory.

In front of you stands a small, pale humanoid of a slender build with a large hairless mottled elongated head suggestive of a huge and powerful brain. The being speaks with an androgynous voice; ''Greetings, I am Captain Peter Brayshay and you all have been chosen because even in a community of billions you all display talents which are outstanding, and necessary to preserve The United Federation of Planets on its set course for galactic greatness''.

After it stops speaking in it's melodic almost musical lilt you are suddenly jolted by an unseen force and finally able to think unclouded and to slowly regain motion, first with the muscles of your eyes and over the course of a few seconds your entire body.

At last after what seems like aeons you begin to perceive your surroundings, you and several other captains are all seated at desks and seemingly posed as your stances seem slightly unnatural almost as if a child had spent minutes obsessing over making a doll seem realistic. The chamber in which you're in is approximately the size of an old Earth church basilica and appears crudely fashioned from some sort of purplish quartz. Aside from arguably the most bland, sparse and uninspired furnishings ever to curse the eye of a humanoid the room appears empty and without obvious door or window.

The dome-headed alien drifts towards you on feet clearly evolved or fashioned for stealth, beams a warm natural smile that seems to flow over half of its face and gestures to the fact that you aren't tethered nor guarded by any known force...
''Gentlemen, you are free to leave or stay of your own will. Please forgive the brief memory loss it will not endure for long but it was of the most pressing need to keep our rendezvous absolutely secret and had you been informed prior then you may have unwittingly even with the best intentions have allowed others access to this facility. I need to depart for a few moments please feel free to discuss amongst yourselves and when I return you'll all be free to go and amply compensated for your time absent from your vessels''

With that the little man starts to become less substantial, his skin being an artificial façade, blue-purple energy can be seen coursing through his now transparent humanoid form with him eventually disappearing entirely.

[Mikey]

After a few moments of standing numbly even after he regained mobility, Joe Berkman rolled his neck and stretched his back - not that extending himself to his full 5'9" was all that impressive. Looking down, he smoothed his Starfleet bomber jacket which he'd affected wearing instead of the regulation uniform jacket and then glanced around the... room, he guessed he could call it. The other occupants were all Starfleet like himself, and likewise wore captain's insignia. He frowned slightly, far more slightly than the situation probably deserved, and squinted around at his surroundings. He could find no trace of the alien who seemed to have arranged the impromptu meeting.

"Well, that's about a bitch, isn't it?" he asked nobody in particular. He shrugged casually, looked around at his fellow captains, and said, "Joe Berkman, skipper of the USS Joselewicz. Hell of a way to meet some colleagues, eh?"

[Deepcrush]

Feeling focus and strength return Cumberland pulled himself upright (mostly), joints cracking as he broke free of the unnatural position he had been left in. He couldn't help but feel a fog over his mind, slowly lifting but still present.

From somewhere in the room. "Well, that's about a bitch, isn't it? Joe Berkman, skipper of the USS Joselewicz. Hell of a way to meet some colleagues, eh?"

Cumberland forced himself to stand tall and face the voice. "I am Captain Sherman Cumberland, USS Appalachia." At 6'2 he stood well over the skipper of the Joselewicz, though the way the room was spinning in his head he wasn't sure that would last long. "Mind me if I end up at boot level but my brain feels like someone played echos in it." Checking his uniform, he couldn't help but notice his firearm and blade were missing. "So any idea what the hell is going on in this pit?"

[Granitehewer]

With sudden static surge pulsing throughout the entire chamber feeling like cresting an enormous convulsion and a coalescing of some sort of violet helix of energy in the centre of the chamber, the strange little alien reappeared. With a languid waft of his hands the other captains who had maintained a silent almost ghostly vigil at their desks and who had seemed so awkwardly poised vanished- clearly some sort of simulation using either a lost technology or perhaps a natural ability induced by the being's sheer effort of will.

''Gentleman please forgive the rudimentary façade, it is very cliché but there are certain things that even a dossier won't tell us and we needed to know that you were the discreet sort not prone to neurosis or a loose-tongue. The Federation intercepted transmissions from the fourth planet in the Helkadubrillion system, transmissions which had attempted to be concealed within the natural radiation of that sector and smothered within the output of a neighbouring pulsar. By what our linguistics could translate it appears that a Gorn survey team discovered something on the planet, that something is a sentient race of Reptilian humanoids similar to the Gorn but claiming to originate outside of the Galaxy. We couldn't entirely piece the transmission together but it appears as if these sentients don't recognise any of the star clusters in our quadrant.''

''You will both be transported to your respective vessels which are currently as you left them, you need not ask how merely that some benefactors have technical achievements far surpassing what is commonly known. You will appear instantaneously within your private quarters and should you wish to contact me simply contact anyone else in starfleet and mid-conversation use the term 'shoreleave couldn't come sooner' and as your communications are hotlinked to my own personal grid you'll be diverted directly to myself once your transmission is terminated''.

With that and before you can even blink you find yourselves back in the comfort of your Captain's cabin, alone and in the dark...

[Reliant121]

Tobias opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't; his quarters (which were effectively a large cupboard with a bed slapped against one wall, a desk carved into the adjacent one and a little nook in which he could wash and perform his functions) felt unusually hot and clingy. Upon closer inspection, Tobias discovered large pools of sweat had settled around his neck and brow. Either he had an excellent evening before hand and was feeling the after effects of some horrible alcohol induced nightmare, or he had developed a hitherto unknown mutation of influenza that no one had seen fit to inoculate against.

Rising slowly from his bed, Tobias' head seemed to roll about within itself. He surmised that it must have been alcohol and he was balancing out his karmic account with heavy migraine. Clawing himself from bed, Tobias wandered into the shower. The Ceredigion's computer, detecting he was awake, automatically increased the lights by about 40%. The sight of the lights coming on was enough to send searing pain through the aging captain's eyes.

"COMPUTER, DIM THE LIGHTS," he gruffly cried, covering his face from the light assault. As the lights dimmed, the captain stumbled into the sonic shower and let it work its magic.

___

Roughly half an hour later, Commander Stormount walked heavily out of the turbolift and settled into his chair. Within moments of him sitting, his second in command came over with a slate carrying all of the days reports.

"Good Morning, Commander."

"Lieutenant commander, hello. Anything unusual in the night shift?" He looked up, still looking rather dazed and a little bit ill. A certain distant twinkle was poking its way into his eyes; his XO, Laurie Van Haazen, suspected that her commander was at least 60% in a different universe and was giving only the most cursory attention to his surroundings.

"The detailed scan we were doing of the Azalkabaxri moon have turned up some particularly unspectacular metallic signatures like iron, nickel, arturium-B. Nothing useful. Some large sub surface veins of Deuterium present but far too deep to make it viable for mining; I've compiled the report anyway and just needs your final word to send it."

"Go on ahead. Whats our next assignment?" She glanced at the transmission terminal."

"Apparently, an asteroid sweep in the Tarkasu system in the Helkadubrillion cluster. Some signs of unknown starship activity; starfleet suspects it may be a low grade off the chart smuggling route so they want a ship with decent scanners to get in and take a peak." For some reason, Helkadubrillion sounded familiar to Tobias. As if it was from some hazy, distant dream.

"How long is the journey going to take?" The crew looked around from their stations. One of the main annoyances to anyone unfortunate to be served aboard one of the Oberth class ships was the long stretches of immaterial boredom that filled the crew's schedules. Transit to just about any region of space other than the one they were in took days, perhaps even weeks. The warp engines on the Oberth were barely above civilian standard (mostly so they could be built in ridiculous numbers in the same places civilian stations were built). They were incredibly robust, and almost impossible to break even in the hands of untrained engineering students; however, the sacrifice was poor acceleration and therefore dreary, age-long transit times.

"2 weeks, 4 days, 14 hours." Collectively the room sighed, and returned to their work. Since the Ceredigion was small, recreational facilities were lacking. A single mess hall and a tiny gym attached to it were the only form of recreational attractions for the entire ship; unless science labs were more your forte, in which case the entire ship might as well be your play pen.

"Well. Waiting isn't going to help is it? Helm, set a course for the Tarkasu system, maximum cruising speed."

"Standing by, warp 4.8 ready." came the cheery reply from Ensign Jarox, the resident cheerful Denobulan.

"Engage."

With a word, the tiny ship through itself into the abyss.