Phil Wilson

[Cmdr Phil]

CHARACTER NAME: Phil Wilson
SLA PLAYER NAME: Foxy
REAL NAME: Ali Trace
RACE: Human
GENDER: Male
AGE: 35
DATE OF BIRTH: 19th January 2225
PLACE OF BIRTH: Crawley, West Sussex, UK
RANK: Commander
POSITION: First Officer
MARITAL STATUS: Single
HEIGHT: 5ft 10
WEIGHT: Average
HAIR COLOR: Dark but prematurely receding
EYE COLOR: Dark Blue

LANGUAGES: English, Standard, French, Spanish, Andorian, Vulcan, Tellarite, Klingon, Kzin - all to conversational level (with military vocabulary)

EDUCATION/QUALIFICATIONS: Masters in Operational Psychology (minor in Klingon Language and Culture)

SERVICE RECORD:
2261 - Assigned as First Officer of USS Legacy
2257 - Injured in the line of duty (Battle of Arcadia, against the Kzinti). Transferred to Starfleet Academy as an Instructor
2256 - First Office on USS Aldrin (Armstrong Class Starship), promotion to Commander
2253 - Field Promotion to Lieutenant Commander
2250 - Transferred to USS Speedwell (Mayflower Class Starship) - Promoted to Lieutenant
2248 - Promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade
2247 - Assigned as Ensign on Diplomatic Vessel, USS Mandela

DECORATIONS:
Grankite Order of Tactics
Silver Palm
Decoration of Gallantry

REPRIMANDS: Squeaky clean...

FAMILY: Mother: Verity, Father: Sidney, Elder brother - Peter, Elder Sister - Valentine

LIKES: Tea, English Breakfast, Warm, one sugar. Toast. Real toast made from real bread. With butter.

DISLIKES: Cold tea, bullies, cheats, smiles involving pointy teeth, went vegetarian for a while, then decided that was letting the buggers win.

LIMITATIONS: Prosthetic leg (right). Despite a recent upgrade to an almost perfect facsimile, he still uses a cane but it is more by habit than need.

STRENGTHS: People-savvy (),
Calm in a crisis
Nice (but )

QUIRKS: Acts older than he should/is.
Tuts.


FAVORITE OR DEFINING QUOTES:
"The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget."
Thomas Szasz
"Wisdom consists of knowing how to distinguish the nature of trouble, and in choosing the lesser evil."
Niccolai Machiavelli, The Prince
"To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting."
Sun Tzu
"There is no sin so great as ignorance. Remember this."
Rudyard Kipling, Kim
"The world is always a democracy in times of flux, and the man with the best voice will win. Everybody thinks Hitler got to power because of his armies, because they were willing to kill, and that's partly true, because in the real world power is always built on the threat of death and dishonor. But mostly he got to power on words, on the right words at the right time."
Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game
"There's lots of people will help you with alcohol business, but there's no one out there arranging little meetings where you can stand up and say, "My name is Sam Vimes and I'm a really suspicious bastard."
Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay
"Oh dear."
Phil Wilson

HOBBIES/INTERESTS: Taijiquan, Bartitsu, Chess (all forms), fantasy role-playing, art & music (passively)

AMBITIONS: Making everyone smart enough to survive

MEDICAL PROFILE: Nothing exciting, oh - apart from the leg thing and some interesting scars. And the bad dreams (). He has been a good boy and attended counselling and it's hardly ever a problem. Really.

CHARACTER HISTORY:
Phil Wilson always wanted to be out in the stars. As a child, he would lie on his back watching the take-offs and landings from Gatwick Spaceport, wondering where they were all going or where they had been, what manner of creatures they would find and whether they would be friends. As he grew up, he realised it was more complicated - some would be friends on a planetary diplomatic level but there were still individuals who were not as friendly... Others could be at war with Earth and yet there could be individuals who were perfectly civil.

Complicated was fun. This was what made people (including alien people) more interesting than computers. Lots of people knew how to get a specific response out of a computer. How many people could get a specific, intended response out of a person.

None.

Well, maybe Machiavelli, but he had a bad reputation as a result. Phil didn't want a bad reputation, but maybe it would be good to understand how it was done in order to prevent someone less scrupulous from trying it.

He studied psychology, but not with the aim of treating patients, or of charging rent to those who lived in castles in the air - but to know when to duck and how to avoid getting into a situation where he needed to. His scope got larger - never mind people, what about groups? Herds? Nations? Planets? Races?
To what degree could you predict the response of an entire race, given the number of individuals, the differing histories, the vast variety of experiences... Playing the Great Game.

Now THAT was fascinating.

Everything was going so well, he learnt so much - both being taught and once he was posted to a ship in the Diplomatic Fleet by meeting new life, new civilisations. Talking to fantastic people, but more importantly, listening to them, he drank it all in, mulled it over, learnt and used his new found knowledge. Gradually, he made his way up the ranks, listening, learning and applying.

Right up until Arcadia. There were Kzinti. One of them tried to eat him and his crew. He... did what needed to be done. Which he would rather not talk about. Thank you.

Minus most of a leg, he was grounded until he got the hang of his prosthetic and attended the requisite counselling, during which he earned his keep by tutoring on psychology and tactics at Starfleet Command School. Most of his students were only a few years younger than he, but they hadn't been through what he had, forged in fire - they seemed like kids in comparison, all enthusiasm and throwing caution to the wind. Especially one - she was a force of nature. It was an especially proud moment when he managed to get her through her exams. He didn't stay for the graduation party, though. Too much fuss. Went home for a nice cup of tea.

She stayed in touch and, now being the same rank and no longer a pupil, he started to think of her differently. But, anyway, enough of that. He was proud all over again to hear she'd been given a ship of her own, albeit made from the remnants of the battered fleet. There might even have been fragments of the ship he would have been commanding by then, if it hadn't been for... yes, well, anyway... what he hadn't expected was the invitation to serve as her First Officer. He thought the leg business would have ruled him out, but it turned out so many senior officers had been lost - first to Nero and his assault on Vulcan and then to Harrison's terrorist attack - that Starfleet were keen to get whoever they could back in, even if it meant expensive upgrades to his prosthetic and a blind eye turned to a couple of sub-par results on the physical tests.

Game on.

[Cmdr Phil]

The Battle of Arcadia had not gone well. The Federation were, as usual, trying not to kill anyone. The Kzinti, however, were less fussy.

Phil was roused to consciousness by a sudden tearing pain in his right leg. As his eyes shot open, he realised to his horror that tearing was actually accurate as his assailant was taking a bite out of him. Instinctively, he lashed out with the other leg, kicking the Kzin away - not enough to damage it, but enough for it to break off, hissing, his blood dripping from its mouth.

He wanted to throw up. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. He wanted to cry. He wanted to wake up and find it had all been a horrid nightmare.

He wasn't going to get what he wanted. Not today.

The pool of blood forming under him was growing and Phil realised he needed to deal with this first. He tore off his shirt and tied it just above the injury. Not the best course of action, but in the absence of proper medical care, it would have to do. He glanced around - the rest of his team were not in much better shape. At least a few were still breathing, but those who were conscious weren't capable of doing anything to protect themselves. They had been disarmed, their communicators taken. It was surprising they were still alive, given the circumstances.

The Kzin observed him keenly. Licking its lips. Tasting his blood.

"You've won," Phil addressed it. "Congratulations. Now, in accordance with the Treaty of Sirius, I formally request..."

The Kzin spat at him. "I signed no treaty. You are food now. Food has no right to request."

Phil struggled to keep the automatic parts of his brain quiet as he tried to pull anything useful he could to the front. The pained moans of several of his team... his friends... were both spurring him on and distracting him at the same time.

Finally, a useful thought darted past - he grabbed it and forced it into focus.

If a Kzin was defeated in battle but allowed to live, that action was considered the ultimate insult. In such a case, the Kzin had to seek revenge by challenging the attacker to a duel before the attacked Kzin was allowed to seek either medical assistance or reinforcements.

He grabbed a nearby branch and, using it as a crutch, pulled himself upright, summoning as much height as his injuries allowed.

"I challenge you to a duel..."

The Kzin laughed, displaying its pointy teeth in all their ferocity.

"The food wants to play? That makes a change... I accept!"



Which is where the official footage cuts out. The fact that Phil Wilson survived tells you all you need to know about how the rest of the encounter played out. He successfully defeated the Kzin in the duel, winning the respect of the remainder of his assailant's tribe, obtained access to a communicator and managed to get his team beamed out. Most of them survived more or less intact, although he himself lost the lower part of one leg.

He was officially a Big Damn Hero, with medals and stuff.



So why didn't he feel like one?