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Jack Cutter last won the day on February 23 2015

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  1. Jack watched the officers enter the turbolift, faintly disgruntled he wasn't on the shuttle. He always seemed to end up on the away missions. But XO was stepping up immediately and he wouldn't discount that, nor that the other two new bridge officers hadn't hesitated when called upon. Pretty behinds on a pair of them too. Jack stopped looming over Garner's shoulder and took position at the main tactical console now that Batim was heading to the shuttlebay. With experienced casualness, he checked power levels, weapon readiness and shield ratings as lighting shifted to Yellow Alert. It was a mystery yet, but who knows what might come out of that cloaking field. "Didn't 'spect the new officers would be cutting their teeth so soon, Cap'n," Jack remarked to Captain Raymer idly as he programmed several firing patterns to deal with a variety of possible circumstances. "Your point, Chief?" Captain Raymer glanced over her shoulder with an arched brow at the tall Master Chief. "No point, Cap'n, just commentin'. Thought they'd have more time learnin' the ropes 'board the Destiny, but the unexpected will test their mettle a might better, I expect. And maybe tell ya a bit more 'bout your new officers than their files did."
  2. Jack nodded with a grunt of agreement. "That sure is one helluva area to cover. Looks like what I've seen scannin' some place we knew a cloaked Klingon or Romulan ship was lurkin'. It definitely ain't a natural phenomena." The tall Master Chief said it with the surety of someone who had manned tactical more than a few times in his career in Starfleet. Jack reached around Garner and adjusted the sensors, making sure the ensign saw what he was doing, then initiated a tachyon sweep. He carefully modulated the settings and on the console, six points blinked. "Scanning for tachyons?" Garner asked doubtfully. "It doesn't always work, specially if the guy on the cloak is on the ball with adjusting the resonance frequency," Jack explained. "But if you know what to look for, you can usually tell if there's a cloaked ship about, if not with pinpoint accuracy. If they are moving at high warp, you can also look for subspace distortions." He arched a brow at Anjala and tapped the console. "It might'n't be ten starships, but there's six somethings out there generatin' that field, ma'am."
  3. While the Cap'n and her new officers hobnobbed with the Captain of Asgard Station and his officers, Jack was down on Deck 15 of the Destiny in the personal workspace he had made out of an unused storage room by the Industrial Replicators. It had ended up somewhat bigger than originally allocated for thanks to improvements and efficiencies made in the design of transporter machinery. Whatever the reason for the upsized storage room, he had noticed it first on Destiny's maiden voyage and had claimed it as his own. All unofficial of course, but no one had disputed it, the ship wasn't hurting for space, and so Master Chief Cutter had a place to work with his hands and to store the results. In one corner sat a replica of a Celtic Chariot, called a Karbantos in Gaulish, circa about 100 BC. Those Celtic warriors were madmen, riding in a chariot with an open front, lacking the protection offered riders of chariots from other places on Ancient Earth. In another sat a black hued Polybolos, a repeating ballista designed by Dionysus of Alexandria, 3rd century BC Greek Engineer. He had hand crafted both with non-replicated wood. The wood for the chariot had come from Ireland, on Earth, for extra authenticity, but he had cheated some for the Polybolos. Sablewood from Arborea VII was known for its durability and resilience and he had called in a favour from his folks back home. Just having a description from Philo of Byzantium to go on, Jack had had a bastard of a time making the damn thing work, especially stopping the chain drive and wooden magazine from jamming. But he had managed it, and the gleaming black, compact ancient siege weapon was a thing of dangerous beauty, the hardy sablewood giving it more power and stability than it should have. The detailed carving along the edges and footings were unnecessary flourishes, but he had been proud of the job he had done and liked keeping his hand in his family's trade, even if he had joined Starfleet. Now, he was working on something different - a vintage 1952 Vincent Black Lightning motorcycle. He couldn't hand build these components, so had spent weeks painstakingly inputting the parameters for every individual piece as accurate as he could make them into the replicator. He had replicated the pieces months ago, but hadn't had the time to play with them. Until now. He was off duty, had a red toolbox full of classic tools, and a three-dimensional puzzle from Earth's history to put together. He had a fondness for groundcraft. With it's extreme gravity and frequent duonetic storms, aircraft on Arborea VII weren't common and very strictly regulated. He was considering Da Vinci's Armored Car or Self-Propelled Cart next - there was a very good Da Vince Holodeck program - if he could find a place for it. Either would take up too much space in his workshop. He had the pieces to the Black Lightning laid out and a tumbler with 3cm of Draylaxian Whiskey - the real stuff, not a syntheholic reproduction - sitting it by his hand; The computer was playing thrumming folk music. He'd been assembling the frame of the motorcycle for less than hour and had only taken two sips of whiskey when the music unexpectedly cut off and the computer chimed with the warning tones for crew assemblage and pre-launch checks. "Dammit!" Jack groused. There were some lookers among the new officers and crewmen, but if those ladies - or the not-quite-boys - were making trouble for the Destiny already... He tossed back the rest of his drink, quickly stoppered the bottle and put away his tools, frowned at the motorcycle components left scattered on protective mats and hoped he'd have time to store them if - or before - the ship entered any danger, then briskly left his workshop and made his way to his quarters to change back into uniform and put away the bottle of Draylaxian Whiskey. As Security, part of his responsibilities was to make sure those who weren't suppose to be on the Destiny weren't, and those who were, were, when they left dock. And he still had to find out why they were leaving Asgard on such short notice in the first place.
  4. "Most are hopeful ma'am. They're the ones still breathin' after all. Survivors feel guilt, sure, but there's relief too," Jack replied laconically. Anjala could feel Jack's familiarity with being a survivor. "The ones that lost good friends or mates, they're hurting yet, but with others sufferin' the same, they'll put up a good front." The tall man sighed, fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. "It's cadet Roberts I'm worried 'bout, and you should too, ma'am. We had several on their cadet cruise and lost every one save Roberts to the damnable spores. Add to that th'arrival of several high-scorin' ensigns - some jumped to department heads even - who were cadets the last time he saw 'em... He feels like he failed his cadet cruise, through no fault of his own, yet it was his baptism by fire too, somethin' he feels the new ensigns haven't endured." Jack leaned back on a smoothly curving bulkhead, arms crossed. "Depression and resentment is a brewin' in 'im and that's a sure thing, ma'am. Don't think he''ll break, but seems to me he''ll be more likely to take risks, to push beyond his abilities to prove himself the equals of those he still see as peers. Or to deny or run away from the hurt he's still feelin'. Somethin' else to keep an eye on, ma'am." He grinned wryly. "No rest for the officers on this ship, not for the time being."
  5. "Call me Jack, ma'am," Jack replied easily to the new XO and his new department head. He didn't seem to have a problem with working under someone younger than he was, who look near young enough to be his daughter. But Anjala could sense he had expected the new officers for the Destiny to be a little more seasoned than they were. "Or Cutter if t'other's too informal like. Th'elephant's gonna be the same as it's on any other ship. Old crew learnin' to deal with the new officers and how they like things and t'other way 'round." Jack gave the new officers of the Destiny directions to the officer quarters on decks three and four, mentioning he had had the rooms of the incapacitated officers cleared out and ready for new occupancy and told them to pick any not already assigned and to log it with the ship's computer. He also gave each of them a datapad collected from the Cap'n's desk with their respective security clearances and codes as he told them where they could find the departments they now headed and their offices. He wasn't surprised when some of his charges left to explore the ship. They were young and this would be their home for the next few years - barring some other cataclysmic circumstance - and besides, he wasn't their babysitter. If they couldn't get settled with a whole lot of hand-holding, it was better to learn that now while they were docked instead of out yonder. Jack nodded at Jensen and V'lar with their heads together as they entered a turbolift. "Might be some rough edges to sand down," he admitted. "With only the Cap'n and a jump-upped ensign, we've had enlisted here runnin' most things on a skeleton crew. It was rough, but we handled it. We all knew we'd be gettin' new officers of course." He snorted with wry amusement. "Just not how new, y'know? I expect there'll be some challenges as the crew tries to suss out their officers, see if they have what it takes. They haven't seen y'alls academic records and such, and truth, they ain't gonna care much. They just wanna know if y'all can do the job. I'd suggest you let it run some instead of trying to stop it dead. It'll happen anyway and you'll see if the department heads can handle the authority over crew generally older and more experienced than they are. I can give ya a few names though, ma'am, crewmen and specialists that may push harder or longer than they should, so an eye can be kept on 'em." Jack gave a wall a solid thump. "It's a good ship. Still new, but it has its quirks that just won't go away. I'll get ya a list." Anjala could the pride Cutter had for the ship, and a lingering trace of something else. Not quite resentment, not quite regret or guilt. A survivor's pain and a survivor's resoluteness. "Resupply is goin' fine. Will need finalization on what pod the Destiny will be slingin' though. Handy that, if you ain't familiar with the New Orleans class." He turned assessing stormy grey-blue on Anjala, clearly curious about her next answer without exposing what he wanted that answer to be. "Now, what you like t'know 'bout the ship, specific like, instead of askin' me what I think you should know?"
  6. A man in the gold of security entered the gallery amid the shuffling and hub-bub, his steps somehow brisk yet relaxed at the same time. He was tall, over 190cm and likely over 100kg, well build and solid, but not bulky, somewhere in his late thirties. He had several days growth of beard, his brown hair either artfully mussed, or naturally so, giving him a more rugged rather than professional air. At his collar was an insignia for an enlisted crew member, though actual rank was difficult to make out at this distance. He exchanged a few quiet words with Prescott, looming over the petite Lieutenant, and from the smiles they shared, knew each other. She pointed at the PADD in his hand tucked by a hip, and he shrugged with rueful apology, then took Prescott's place behind the podium. "I reckon things are 'bout to get exciting for you all, but can I get y'all's attention for a moment?" he call out, his voice holding an amiable rural twang. "I'm Master Chief Jack Cutter, and I need several of y'all to gather 'round." Without referring to the PADD he held, he began naming names, his grey-blue eyes sharp and considering, but not unfriendly. "Lieutenant Anjala Batim. Ensign Antonash Droganescu. Ensign Patrick Garner. Ensign Michael Jensen. Lieutenant J'Sira. Lieutenant Junior Grade Miriam Sepgupta. Ensign Bada Tiv. Ensign T'Set. Ensign V'Lar." He made a sound that was neither positive nor negative. "Lotta Vulcans among you. Fun. You lucky lot are with me." He flashed a half-grin at them. "We're off to speak with the Cap'n."
  7. Master Chief Petty Officer Jack Cutter Age: 39 Species: Human Rank: Master Chief Petty Officer Planet of Birth: Arborea VII Current Assignment: Security Officer Personality A rough and tumble frontiersman, Jack Cutter is rural and forthright, with little of the profession reserve of most Starfleet officers. Generally amiable, if wry, with a somewhat dark sense of humour and a bit of a flirt, Jack has a core of iron stubbornness and when he or his friends and colleagues are threatened, his eyes flare with menace and violence. Always preferring to be doing something rather than nothing, Jack enjoys physical activities just as running, hiking, mountaineering, white-water rafting, sparring, and various active sports - the real deal whenever he can, rather than holodeck simulations. He likes working with his hands, wood-working and assembling ancient ground craft by hand. He plays guitar and has a fondness for non-replicated hard spirits and food, though he isn't a particularly good cook. History Jack is a native of Arborea VII - a planet on the edge of Federation Space - a descendant of the original settlers . Arborea VII is a large planet of towering, rugged mountains, thick, primeval forests, and plentiful deep, cool lakes, and rushing, winding rivers. It would be an idyllic planet save for two factors. One, astatine deposits found on the surface of the mountains and in the closest of Arborea VII's three rings cause frequent duonetic storms - pretty, appearing a glittering, flowing aurora borealis effects, but they also cause all manner of electronic devices to cease to function. And two, it would be the highest gravity planet settled by Terrans of United Earth. But Arborea VII's rich deposits of Dilithium - as well as deposits of several other useful metals and minerals - made it too good of an opportunity to pass up. So Arborea VII was colonized by United Earth several years before the formation of the Federation, the settlers adapting to the quirks of their new planet. Much of the technology and vehicles on Arborea VII were altered to be able to function on more basic, mechanical principles, at least for a time, due to the duonetic storms, or the people learned to do without at need. Jack loved the wild beauty of his planet, but he always had a wanderlust to see other worlds - if not their cities or cultures - to traverse their peaks and walk their woods. He had little interest in being a miner - the major industry of Arborea VII - and while he showed skill in logging the great blackwoods and amaranth oaks and woodworking - his family's main trade - it wasn't what he wanted to do with his life. His eyes were drawn to the cargo shuttles that transported raw dilithium up to the orbital refinery and distribution station. Not for what they carrier, but for what it represented - access to other planets. He began training as a shuttle operator and while on the station, he impressed a Starfleet Officer enough to be sponsored to attend Starfleet Academy. So a young Jack stowed away on a transport to Earth, leaving a message for his family. They were amused by his decision - few natives of Arborea VII ever left - but gave him their well wishes. He was bewildered by his first sight of the extensive cities of Earth. Unfortunately, Jack didn't possess the academic acumen to pass the entrance exams. Undeterred, he enlisted instead, based on his talents as a pilot and engineer. It was suggested he join the Federation Marines, but he wanted to join Starfleet to see new worlds, not to be a soldier. Career Unfortunately for Jack, throughout his career, he proved himself to be an excellent soldier, starting as a fresh-faced, if tall and solid, yeoman flight operator aboard the USS Rutledge. He was involved in the aftermath of the Setlik III Massacre, aiding in saving the remaining survivors and escaping a Cardassian prison camp, leading five others through the wilderness until they could make it back to Federation controlled area. Regardless of which ship he ended up berthed on, Jack always seemed to end up in the midst of wars, fighting for years against the Cardassians and then the four-armed, draconean Tzenkethi, along with minor clashes with others. He almost always volunteered or requested to join Away missions, but while they seemed to take a toll on his fellow Gold-shirts, he always seemed to make it back alive, carrying his fallen comrades if he could. He has been decorated and commemorated multiple times, including for breaking into a Tzenkethi prison camp, affecting the release of twenty-one marines, securing their escape with a scavenged and jury-rigged suit of Tzenkethi heavy armor and piloting one of their Raiders to get off planet and making it to the safety of the USS Wyoming. Jack was glad he missed the engagements with the Borg, for the most part. With his assignment to the USS Destiny on the far side of the Federation, he's hoping he won't be drawn into another extended conflict, especially with young the officers of the Destiny appeared to be. He just wants to walk planets few, if nobody else, in the Federation have ever walked. Quote: S'long as Ah can fly it, fix it, fight it, or fu - pardon my French, ma'am-sir - and get mah feet on the ground from time to time, Ah'll be a happy man.
  8. Jack Cutter

    Star Trek

  9. I was waiting for Jaime to respond to Jack, though as I understand, Gabe was caught up with finals and such.
  10. "Yeah, you're doing much better out here," Jack said wryly, noting the heavy sheen of sweat on Jaime and watching him vomit. Jack slowly stepped closer, his eyes flicking towards the Turtle Bear with each to watch for its reaction and intentions. "But you're right, Jaime, the docs don't know a thing. That's why you have to come back - so they can get a look at you, to learn, so they can start helping anyone else who comes down with the same symptoms. And trust me, it is safer in a group. If you get hurt out here, like..." Jack turned and pointed up the narrow track down the cliff they had all taken. "... if you had tripped and fallen of the cliff path, you could've been laying out here bleeding, with broken bones or a concussion, or simply died, and no one would have known or maybe even have found you. C'mon, man, trust me, and come back with us. Better for all of us too, because otherwise, the Commander might send out a party in force to drag you back," Jack glanced significantly at the Turtle Bear at Jaime's side, "an armed party."
  11. Dark brows raised in surprise at the way the Turtle Bear was cleaving to their runaway's side, Jack slowly backed up, making sure he didn't agitate the beast any further. The creature seemed to be acting as though the runaway was its friend... or maybe its alpha. This place, there wildlife here, are uncanny. "You're right, we are looking for you, and we have no intention of harming your... pet," Jack assured Jamie. Glancing over at George, Jack frowned for a moment, noticing the state the fenine was in. "Um, look, I'm Jack, and you are...?" "Jaime. Jaime Lowery." "Right, Jaime. Not sure why you ran off, but are you willing to come back to camp with us? Preferably without... it trailing you? We don't know what will agitate the wildlife, but as we've seen, it can be dangerous, and we're still in the process of taking a head count, finding out who we lost and who we still have. We can't afford to have the survivors scattering every which way."
  12. Unarmed save for a survival knife and a hatchet on his belt, Jack tried to keep the alarm off his face as he saw the Dire Turtle emerge from the cave, but his heart began hammering in his chest when it angled towards him. Giving Olivia a nudge to go one way, Jack went the other, trying to study the beast's body language, to get a sense if it was just trying to scare him off or was actively aggressive. If it looked like the Turtle Bear was going to turn back on George, Jack would try to attract its attention and hope he didn't end up regretting it, but it would give George a chance to scout of the cave and look for their runaway. The creature was big, but heavy looking. It wasn't really possible to outrun a bear if it decided it wanted you, but this thing looked like it would corner much more poorly and hopefully couldn't climb as well, either. "George, if this thing keeps looking my way, see if you can get a look in the cave for our runaway and if he's in any condition to get the fuck out of there," Jack said pitching his voice for George to hear him without shouting, trying to keep his tone calm so he didn't set the beast off, while backing up as the beast kept approaching, ready to run at a moment's notice. Actions Action 1 - using Education -> Insight -> Perceptive -> Intuition -> Sixth Sense to try to get a read on the Turtle Bear's intentions. Asarasa *rolls* 5d6: 2+4+2+2+4: 14 Action 2 - using Athletics -> Calisthenics -> Aerobics -> Running to run the hell away if the Turtle Bear is coming for him. Will take sharp/serpentine turns where it won't slow him too much and hope the creature doesn't corner as well, and will jump/parkour his over low obstacles to try to slow it too, then head towards a rockface if there is one nearby to try to climb away from the creature. Jack also has Sprinter, so is a bit faster. Asarasa *rolls* 4d6: 5+2+6+6: 19
  13. Jack nodded back and stepped into the lead, working his way down the cliff path with a smooth and professional economy of motion, eyes out for signs of their runaway, seeing if he could get a hint of his physical condition from the tracks. It was amazing and invigorating being outdoors, feet on the ground of a planet. And a bittersweet too, without his family to share it with. "Spent some time in Alaska and parts of Canada too. Still have great, natural landscapes and vistas there that the rising sea levels haven't destroyed," Jack said. "I'm a geologist and geophysicist by trade, so I spent some time on earth studying topography, hydrology, climatology, and the like first hand." Jack gave a shrug and chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder at George. "Ended up falling in love with Earth all over again - I was born on Earth, but moved to the Newcouver Lunar Colony when I was very young due to economic problems. Wanted my feet on the ground instead of being stuck in a cubical on the Moon studying planetary surveys." Jack was silent for a moment, studying a particular track before he continued. "An acquaintance of means of mine knew of predilections and hired me to lead him and his wife on a wilderness trek. It worked out well, and he talked me up to friends of his, and before I knew it, I quit my office job to work as a wilderness guide full time. It payed better too. Enough that I could dream of buying a plot of land Earthside, someplace to build a real home for my wife and daughter, and live someplace where I could feel the wind and sun on my face. Alex, my wife, she was diagnosed with EAC. It was hoped living on Earth would alleviate her symptoms, or at least stop them from progressing to stage two." George noted a melancholic tone enter Jack's voice as he spoke about his family, his hand going around the pendant hanging around his neck. "Almost did it too, when there was accident at the Newcouver colony. Alex and Sam didn't make it and Earth lost its savour without them. It was... rough, then I heard about the Melbourne and Tara. It was too painful living without them on Earth or Luna, with the dream I didn't get the chance to make real always just there. So, I decided to try someplace new, like Tara. And so here we are, and here we are." Jack stood up and rolled his shoulders before pointing towards the cave-mouth ahead of them. "I believe our runaway is in there." Jack frowned, considering the other tracks he'd seen as well. "Something else lives around here too, I think. Not sure what though - the prints seem mostly feline, but too broad and round - almost elephantine - and too deep for anything I'm familiar with from Earth. Stay sharp."
  14. Jack's rugged clothing was meant to wick away moisture and dry quickly, so the ducking in the river wasn't too much of a trial. It even felt refreshing, though it was faster flowing they he had expected. It was good to be on the ground again. Brushing back his wet hair with his fingers, he made sure George and Olivia were ready to go, then followed the boot prints up the bank, away from the river. Tracking them into the woods, Jack noted the broke branches of brush, the shallower scuff of boot prints in the firmer dirt. Maybe the roots of the trees spread out instead of spreading deep, he mused. The undergrowth was spongy, resilient, didn't take prints well, but Jack carefully picked up the signs of their runaway's passage. Olivia tried to follow the scent, but kept getting distracted by all the new flora and fauna she wasn't accustomed to. Jack followed the tracks to cliff, spots of wet of moist earth and a skid of disturbed gravel where it looked like someone had slipped suggested the runaway had made his down. Jack looked over at George. "Guess we're going down. Be careful - the local rock might be crumbly, making slipping more likely." Hunting Roll Asarasa *rolls* 4d6: 5+5+5+5: 20 TN was 9, so successful
  15. "Will do, Commander" Jack acceded, though he was sure his idea of 'too far' and Yuan's probably weren't the same thing. But seeing how aggressive the native wildlife was, he certainly had no intention of going off without a security team member. Not until he learned better how to survive on Tara, at any rate. "I'll be back with news, one way or another." Jack was just turning to go when George came around, the large fenine at his side. Taking in George's armaments and the animal's armour in a glance, Jack gave him a nod and a crooked grin as he jerked a thumb towards the river. "Guess you're with me, then. We have a runner to track down." George looked a question at Yuan, who nodded back. "As he says, Kalnan." Yuan exhaled an irritated sigh. "This day just gets better and better." "Just got to get my pack and I'll be ready to go," Jack said, "and just a warning, we'll be crossing the river. By the way, I'm Jack." George returned Jack's handshake, then nodded down at the fenine. "I'm George. This is Olivia." Jack nodded back, though the look he gave the fenine was a bit cautious. Yes, there were great companions and work/security animals, but he had seen them go feral in the wild - they were aggressively territorial fucks that could make a hippopotamus seem mild mannered in comparison. Stopping by his heavy pack and other gear he had retrieved from his pod-cubby, Jack swiftly packed a smaller, water-proof bag with some gear, the medkit - at least what remained of it after whatever the Doc had used - and power-bars, and slung a pair of water bottles over his shoulders. The survival knife and hatchet were secured to his belt. "Ready to go." Jack lead George and Olivia to the river, showing them where their runaway had crossed. "He crossed here. If Olivia can pick up a scent, great. Let's head upriver a ways to make sure when we cross, we don't miss the runaway's pass. If we're lucky, we might even find a natural ford or shallow area that make the crossing easier." From his pack, Jack pulled out a collapsible aluminum-alloy pole and extended it with a flick of wrist, using it as a walking stick and something to test the ground and depth of the river.
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