You Can't Judge A Planet By Its Dilithium

[Darkhelm]

<Hotel Direidi>
<<Conference Room, 1845, Day 3>>

"I knew it," Amanda sighed. "I knew that he would try something stupid...and now he appears to have dragged poor Peters into it as well."

"We don't know what he actually did..." Soren started to say.

"I don't need to know, the captain wanted us to investigate these visions of Cheetara's and find the survey team."

It was then that Cheetara announced that she was going to the trial. That would make it hard to look into her visions as it were and standing around here asking questions and making claims wasn't going to get them any closer to the Sirion survey team.

"Alright, let's start back outside where we found everything..."

"What about Cheetara?"

"She has a combadge and a tricorder she can find us when she's done talking to the captain and Hunt, the more time we stand around doing nothing the longer the survey team is gone."

OFF: Tag all...not really sure what I am supposed to be doing

Captain's note: Check some of the previous posts - Isabel did assign tasks for the various teams...use some creativity

[Thundera]

<Hotel Direidi>
<<Outside Conference Room, 1849, Day 3>>

Cheetara caught up to Soren and Darkhelm as they began to leave for their assignments.

"Let's hurry and get to the basement and see what we can find out before that trial begins. I have a strange feeling there may be something at the trial in which could prove useful." Cheetara said as she caught up to them, leaving Hunt behind with the Captain.

"And here I thought you would be staying behind." Soren said

"Just because I said that I was going to the trial, doesn't mean that I would just leave the given assignment." Cheetara turned to Darkhelm. "Commander, do you think that you could start doing the adjustments as we walk? It would save us time."

(tag Darkhelm)

She paused as she pulled a cord out from her side pouch and handed it to Darkhelm. "I think this would help speed up the process."

OFF: Tag Team(Maybe a JP)

[Sovereign]

<USS Malinche, Shuttlebay, 1855 hours, Day 3>

Despite the earlier conduct on the part of one Ensign Rhone, Yrel had to admit that his pilotting skills when the ship they were to head was in the midst of firing a volley of torpedoes at...something. A few minutes was all it took for the shuttle to ease its way into the large shuttlebay and set down comfortably on the deck plating, before shutting down it systems and opening the ramped in the back. Yrel was first on her feet while Rhone ran through the afterflight safety checks, and left the confines of the small craft to enter the ship of her service, the <i>Malinche</i>.

Well, she supposed it the ship wasn't meant to look like a pack of rabid Kligons had been given a day's pass to create as much havoc as possible. Most of the shuttlebay was a mess, and the officers on duty were an equal match. Everyone looked like they were pulled duty for the forty-eighth hour straight and need a couple days off at Risa.

"So much for first impressions," she muttered. After hefting her bag of personal belongings she headed for the shuttlebay entrance and then to what she hoped would be a functional science lab, leaving Barrett and Rhone to themselves.

<i>'Yeah right, Yrel, in your dreams,'</i> she thought with a sigh. <i>'Might as well just head to engineering instead. That place had <b>got</b> to be in better shape than the lab would be...'</i>

[Peters]

ON: <<Direidi Jail, 1910>>

Mark Grayson tapped the last inch of the jail before turning around and glancing at Peters. "That's it, Peters. This cell is 100% solid. This time they want us to stay here". He sat on his crude little bed. "The show is the Trial now. They'll have fun with us tonight. Personally, I would kill one of them, just to show how much I appreciate being played with." Mark's dark mood was just starting to get worse.

"Oh, lighten up, Grayson. It's only 20 minutes until the 'Trial.' Of course they want us to stay put." Peters was laying on one of the bunks in the cell with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. To be fully truthful, he himself wasn't very happy, but he knew they'd come out of this fine. Still, he thought, they shouldn't just sit and take it. "Hey Grayson," he started, "What if we had our own sort of fun with them?"

That caught Mark's attention. The idea of messing around with those Direidi bastards was very appealing. "What do you have in mind, Peters?" asked him, leaning towards the engineer.

Peters thought for a moment before responding. Then he grinned. "Well, a situation comes to mind where the crew of the original Enterprise, under Captain Kirk, were trapped on a planet run by androids. To confuse the androids and escape, the Enterprise crew acted as irrationally as possible. Now, this isn't quite the same situation, but if we act as insane as possible, it might just unnerve the Direidi."

"Considering that I'm that close to becoming insane with this situation, I think we can do that... Especially if we start to deviate from whatever plan they have for us," said Mark, thoughtful. "I remember reading about Kirk's mission. Let's be as illogical as possible... First, of course, we need an audience." A very devious grin was starting to grow in Mark's face.

"What did you have in mind?" Peters asked, not sure whether he should be happy or afraid.

Mark stepped on Peters' foot with enough strength to make the engineer yelp. "Start jumping on one foot!" said him. "Guard, guard! Something's wrong here! My friend's lost his foot!"

Peters dutifully hopped up and down on his other foot. "I have not lost it, it's right here, but somehow it got attached to my hind end. NI!"

One guard appeared quickly and stared at Peters jumping on one foot and Mark pretending to dance a tango with an imaginary partner. The spook looked at the guard. "Could you turn the music down a bit? It's going to wake the baby!"

"Baby? Which baby?" asked the guard, confused.

"Oh, darn it, he escaped again," said Mark, making an tango movement. "Peters, do you know where the baby is?"

Peters looked around wildly, still hopping up and down on one foot. "I don't know where the cat went. Did you put him out for the night? You know I prefer to keep him inside, he's getting old, you know."

Peters looked at the guards and blinked. "Hello Gents, care for a cup of tea? Maybe some roast chicken? Wait, wait," he said, pointing at one of them, "Not you, I don't like you."

The guards looked at each other. One was bald and fat; the other had a ponytail and a silly mustache. "I don't remember nothing about this kind of thing," bald muttered to the ponytail.

Mark blinked at Peters. It was working. "Hey, you!"

The ponytail looked at him. "Me?"

Mark shook his head violently. "NO! The other one."

The bald guy looked at Mark. "What do you want with me?"

"NO! Are you guys blind?! I'm talking about the giant cat over there!!!" Mark pointed to the space between the two guards.

Peters stopped hopping and stood up straight, holding one arm up in a curve and the other bent at the elbow with his fist pressed against his hip. "I'm a little teapot, short and stout, here is my handle, and here is my spout..."

The Ponytail started to look nervous. "Maybe we pushed them too hard," whispered him to the Bald. "Look at them... I never saw this kind thing before!"

"Nonsense, the game is perfect. I don't know what's going on here..." whispered back the Bald.

Mark stopped his tango and approached the guards. "Look, I have a secret... but it?s so secret that even a secret wouldn't be good enough to keep a secret. Do you want to know what it is?"

Both men approached the cell door. "Go ahead, tell us."

"IT'S A SECRET!" yelled Mark right in their ears. He looked at Peters and gave the engineer a slight nod.

Peters was now upside down, his head and hands to the floor, his feet straight up in the air. He looked straight at the guards and asked, "Can you stand on your head?"

The guards looked at each other in perplexion. "You!" Peters shouted and pointed at one, "On your head," and he pointed at the other.

"Oh, come on, look at them, Peters... One doesn't haven any hair and the other has too much... Do you really think they can do something amazing as standing on one's head? Only we can do that," Grayson said starting to do a moonwalk movement. "I doubt they can even do a moonwalk like this!" Mark was enjoying himself just watching the guards expression.

"Alright, that's it, it's time to go," the bald guard said, irritably.

"GO?!" Peters exclaimed as he rolled to his feet. "But you've only just arrived! You simply must join us for this week's showing at the theater!"

With that, Peters planted both feet and put his fists on his hips, then began singing: "I am the very model of a modern Major-General/I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral/I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical/From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical..."

"Just because you lost all your hair, don't blame us for wanting to sing... We do have hair, though..." said Mark, jumping up and down. "Question and answer: We go and we go back... Why don't you open the cell and join us? I promise I'll take you to your prom."

"Shut up!" barked the Ponytail. "Come on... Just open the cell so I can punch this..." ranted the man to the Bald.

The Bald dismissed the Ponytail's remark. "Its time to take them to the court."

"Oooh... Court! Did you hear it, Peters... We're going to a tennis court!" said Mark. He wanted to escape, but, the captain orders had been specific. She didn't understand their game yet.

"But, I can't go yet, I need to find my racket... Where did I put that racket?" Peters turned and started looking under the mattress on the bunk nearest him. After a moment he pulled out a wire and held it up triumphantly. "AHA! My bat!"

"But weren't you looking for a racket?" the guard with the ponytail asked.

Peters looked at the man like he'd grown horns. "Good god, man, are you daft?! What good could a racket possibly do me at a Tennis Court?"

"That's it!", said Ponytail finally enraged. The Bald tried to stop the other, but failed. Ponytail opened the cell door and advanced menacingly towards Peters.

Mark jumped on the man. "Come on, horsy," said him, making enough pressure around the man's throat to make him pass out. "Whoa, there's a wild one," said him, looking seriously to Peters, as he was saying, "we can escape."

Peters turned to the cell door just in time to see three more guards appear behind the Bald one. Sighing, he stepped out of the cell. Looking to the Bald guard, he asked, "So, what's your name?"

The guard blinked at him, then shrugged and said, "Jason."

"Oh," Peters said, "Jason is my father's name. Are you my father?"

The Guard merely groaned as he slapped handcuffs on Peters and Grayson.

OFF:

A Wacky and Zany Joint Post With

Lieutenant,JG Mark Grayson
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche

[Darkhelm]

<<Hotel Direidi>>
<Outside Conference Room, 1849, Day 3>

"Just because I said that I was going to the trial, doesn't mean that I would just leave the given assignment." Cheetara turned to Darkhelm. "Commander, do you think that you could start doing the adjustments as we walk? It would save us time."

"I can sure try, although I would much prefer it if we weren't walking around while I was trying to do it."

She paused as she pulled a cord out from her side pouch and handed it to Darkhelm. "I think this would help speed up the process."

Amanda took the cord and plugged it into the tricorder. Stopping there stroll for a moment, Amanda took a look at Cheetara's head, finding the correct access port.

"Exactly what are you doing?" Soren asked.

"Hoping that if Cheetara has another vision I can record it; then I should be able to back track the signal...well actually, you guys should be able to back track the signal...I was never good at subspace mechancis. If these visions are messages of sort they should have a frequency that we can track."

OFF:

[Barrett]

<<USS Malinche>>
<Shuttlebay, 1855 hours, Day 3>

Jason was more then happy to be back on the ship. Stepping out of the shuttle he started to follow after thier newest crew memeber, maybe Sovereign would be easier to get along with then Rhone...or Jaran, both seemed to have a temper.

"Barrett to Tamlin (NPC) just thought that I would let you know that your communications seem to be on the fritz."

"Really, you think."

The reply was curt and short, signaling that perhaps Ryan was wedged in a jefferies tube somewhere working on the problem. Looking around the Malinche, Jason could see that the ship had indeed seen better days.

Coming through the doors, Jason took a hard left, Rhone behind him.

"Unless they re-arranged the ship in the past 3 days, I think the science lab is to the right."

"We aren't going to the science lab," Sovereign responded. "I figure that we might as well start in engineering."

OFF:

[Kersare]

<<Direidi Library, 1914, Day 3>>

After Todd and Mark were taken away, Isabel headed for the Direidi Library, hoping to find something that might help. Sara had gone to see what she could dig up, and thus far hadn't contacted Isabel.

Isabel stood in the Law section of the library, shaking her head slightly as she browsed through the titles. The table behind her already held two books which had proved useless. Truthfully, she wasn't even sure why she was here. Judging from the ludicrous charges, and the general Direidi nature, this was simply part of their script. Then again, they'd probably have some form of book of regulations...if only for appearances.

Thus far, nothing though. And it wasn't as if she had an overwhelming amount of time. Isabel only had about thirteen minutes left.

Glancing around, Isabel noticed a stooping older woman, putting away books. A librarian, this could be helpful... Quietly Isabel walked over and stood in front of the woman, waiting to be noticed.

The old woman placed a book on the shelf, then looked over at the person who'd come over, "Can I help you, miss?"

Miss, that was a new one. Isabel smiled, "Yes, ma'am. I was wondering if you might have any books about Direidian Court procedures."

"Are you sure that's the one you want, dearie? It's a rather dull read..." The woman continued replacing books.

"I'm sure. Where is it?" At least this woman seemed to be helpful.

"Well, now, let me see....It was in the front right corner, but we moved it...then it was on the second story, aisle three..." The Direidi librarian paused, trying to remember, "Hmm...oh, I believe it's under that window over yonder."

Following the woman's pointing finger, Isabel's eyes finally saw a book resting on a small table, propped up. "Thank you."

Seeing the librarian nod, Isabel hurried over to the book. Indeed, it was entitled, "Direidi Court Procedures". Isabel leafed through the book...it seemed rather thick. It'd be difficult to find the information that could be useful to her in....ten minutes.

Going to the index, Isabel found a few things of interest and made notes on a PADD, marking the corners of the pages. Perhaps she'd find what she needed before the trial after all...

OFF: Tag crew!

[Rhone]

<USS Malinche>
<<Day 3, 1916>>

ON:

Seryn was eager to get the portable equipment he wanted and get back to the shuttle. The original pilot, Leffingwell, had stayed behind taking in a wrecked hangar bay in dismay. Seryn's ability to stay focused was the only thing preventing him from gawking at the damage the ship had clearly undergone. He was certain it was abnormal for a ship to look so stressed, but the look of the crew he hadn't met yet displayed worse signs of wear and tear. A Prometheus-class vessel was a combat vehicle, designed for combat. But, the best ship is only the best ship because it has the most worthy crew. Another insight into Starfleet Academy Command Instruction, 101.

Taking brief note of the crew's fatigue and annoyingly warm climate everywhere on the ship, Rhone had to find whoever Tamlin was and see if there was anything he could help with in the short time he had. Equipment had priority, though.

He adjusted his bags and Tapped his comm badge, "Ensign Rhone to Ensign Tamlin, where do you keep your portable communications equipment, not the big stuff, just the small portable stuff?"

=/\= Cargo bay one =/\= came the muffled reply.

Seryn decided not to bother him. He stopped at systems display while Barrett and Sovereign kept their hustling pace further down the corridor. He found the cargo bay he wanted on deck 4 and made his way to the turbolift.

Once the lift arrived on deck four, he followed the signs until he found the bay and gathered minor parts and equipment in the bags he was still carrying. On his way out he stopped at the MSD next to the exit. He saw 'ENV SYS' in flashing red and keyed it. A display with all the ships environmental configuration data was brought up, and Rhone sighed. He wasn't sure how to fix the environmental controls without using the bridge station, but he knew he was onto something. Worried about how much time he'd spent away from the the other members of his party, Seryn forwarded his readouts to Engineering in hopes someone there would be able to fix it. He was glad in a way he wasn't yet working on the ship. Another away mission sounded good to him.

He logged out of the display terminal and made his way back to the shuttlebay as fast as he could move with his bags and a turbolift break.

OFF:

[Barrett]

<<USS Malinche> >
<Corridor, Day 3, 1916>

Engineering, Jason observed, had seen much better days. Joey Summers (NPC) was down there, looking over various blinking displays. He looked more then a little haggarded; not that Jason blammed him. Both himself and Peters would have a lot of work to do when they got back. He noted that Ensign Rhone had managed to get his way out of engineering in record time.

He tapped his combadge. "Computer locate Ensign Rhone."

There was no respose, this time Yrel tried it. Again no response.

"Computer is acting up," Joey responded. "Last I heard he went to cargo bay one, was gathering some communications equipment...did we find the survey team yet?"

"Not yet, we're working on that right now."

Joey nodded and then went back to work with whatever he was doing, Jason and Yrel took off toward cargo bay one, though Jason decided that they would make a slight detour first.

"Where are we going?" Yrel asked, as they entered transporter room 3.

"I figure we might as well bring some of these along," Jason said, grabbing a container of transport enhancers. "Never hurts to be prepared."

"Think we might have to beam them out of somewhere?" Yrel asked, as they exited the transporter room.

"Something like that. Lt. Barrett to Ensign Rhone."

"Go ahead."

"We'll meet you back in the shuttlebay; need any help carrying anything?"

"I seem to have every thing well in hand, I'll be there shortly."

Jason closed the channel and then tapped his combadge again, opening a channel to Zero (NPC).

"Zero I need you to report to the shuttle bay ASAP."

"Comment: Do you and your meatbag cohorts require my assistance?"

Yrel looked oddly at Jason. "I'll explain that one later...and yes we do. Just get down here."

"Comment: Understood meatbag."

"Why are you bringing him along?" Yrel asked.

"I can't seem to get near whatever or whoever is causing this, messes with my head...Zero is going to by my eyes and ears."

"Ah, a Barrett bot."

"Sort of, now lets get back to the shuttlebay."

OFF:

[Thundera]

ON: <Hotel Direidi>
<Basement, 1859, Day 3>

After a few minutes of traveling, they had finally reached the basement. Cheetara started scanning as Darkhelm monitored her brainwaves through the tricorder. As Cheetara began picking up the fluctuations she started getting these weird sensations in her head. The closer she got to the source, the more intense they became. A moment later, Cheetara fainted.

-----In Cheetara's Mind-----

There was a flash of white, and she was walking up to a large building she didn't recognize. But it looked like the one that had been described earlier at the meeting. Then a dark flash and she felt as if she was falling. It was very dark with very translucent light. She looked down and all she could see was a bright white hole. It felt as if she was falling forever or in very slow motion, yet she was screaming the whole way down. A quickr flash and she found herself in the middle of a strangely decorated room dancing with some woman. There were balloons and streamers hanging from the ceiling as a band played from a wooden stage. Tables and chairs outlined the floor and surrounded everyone. As she looked around, she spotted a metallic surface and was amazed at what she saw. She was not herself. She was seeing through someone else's eyes. She was in fact someone else. But who, she wasn't sure.........

-----Back to reality----

Cheetara came to with the doctor and Soren throwing questions at her left and right. She was still groggy and disoriented with no idea of how she got onto the floor, or as to what she had just saw. What seemed like forever in her mind all happened in just a matter of minutes.

OFF: Tag Team

[Abubakar]

ON: 1900. Arrowhawk Cockpit. Day 3.

As the torpedo from the Malinche burned through the air towards Arrowhawk like a phoenix in a nose-dive, Abubakar banked sharply upwards, throwing the fighter into a full aft-thrust and then banking over to starboard in a twisting loop, diving as he came out of it and pushing the craft into a full thrust towards the ground.The manouvere was almost like a stallion galloping at full speed, halting to rear-up and falling off to one side.

As he flew downwards, Abubakar caught sight to port of what he was about to fly over before the torpedo. Rolling 45* to the port, he pulled up to make a low pass around the debris on the ground.

Flying the Arrowhawk around in a large circle, he looked out to port to survey the debris and pick a landing spot that would set him close-enough, but not so close he disturbed the wreckage.

From the air, he could see two or three fairly large sectiions of what looked like burned or scorched Federation hull, there was also a downed shuttle in good condition structuraly - whether or not it had crashed independantly or was just effectively another piece of debris - he would have to find out.

Judging by the relatively small amount of debris fragments, he was positive a whole starship hadn't crashed, but more likely the results of falling debris from a space-explosion. It also seemed odd, that if the entire Sirion had been destroyed in space then there would be more debris over a larger area.

Jaran commenced scanning the area for buried debris and set Arrowhawk down on the sand before transporting out - having programmed the transporter to provide him with a uniform.

Abubakar gasped from the shock of transferring from the cool interior of the cockpit to the searing heat and heavy desert air. He whipped out his tricorder and scanned for the closest smallest piece of debris, thankfuly it was located in a large jagged shadow created by a piece of hull jutting out of the sand. He scanned the small piece and found it was 'drenched' in the probable weapons signature.

He had intentionally picked the smallest piece, if his theory was corrrect, and a weapons impact had casued a systems-explosion such as a nacelle, then a larger piece of hull would be more likely to have not sustained a weapons hit, but the smaller pieces should in theory have been generally closer to the hit - thus making the readings hopefuly clearer.

Putting away his tricorder, he placed his comm badge on the hull fragment to 'tag' it and beamed back aboard Arrowhawk before beaming it into the small holding bay that was usually only used for stowing ground forces carry-gear.

He opened a comm line. "Lieutenant Jaran to Captain Kersare"

OFF:

[Darkhelm]

<<Hotel Direidi> >
<Basement, 1859, Day 3>

There journey to the basement was uneventful, although once they got down to the basement things took a decidedly different turn. They hadn't ventured anymore then 100 meters into the basement when she began to have another vision. Darkhelm was quick to react, lowering Cheetara to the floor and started to scan her right away.

One look at her tricorder and she could tell that something was not right. Some signal was causing her frontal cortex to fire randomly and constantly, creating the visions that she was apparently seeing. For the time being her vital signs were well within normal limits, which met that Amanda could concentrate on tracking the signal.

"Is she ok?" Soren asked, looking down at Cheetara.

"She's fine for now, although if these visions continue over a longer period I may have to find some way to block them," Amanda responded, her fingers were already flying over her tricorder trying to get a lock on the signal that was now flooding her brain.

So far she wasn't have very much luck, she had managed to back track it through Cheetara's secondary optical relay and then almost lost it again. Finding it took a few seconds later and then Amanda finally tracked it back through her coriticol node; a node which was capable of picking up extremely low subspace emissions.

"I think I may have found the frequency, looks like its some sort of subspace signal...I think it was some how buried in the EM readings that we were picking up."

"Why would someone want to do that?" Soren asked.

Amanda shrugged. "Maybe the wanted to make sure we were the only ones that could find it, I don't really know. I'm trying to lock down the exact frequency now."

"Can you do that?"

"Possibly, Cheetara's node was operating at a frequency of 0.342 last time I checked her in sickbay I'm guessing thats the same frequency that the signal is coming in on...got it!"

At this point, Cheetara started to come around, looking up at both Amanda and Soren.

"Are you ok?" Amanda asked. "You were out of it for almost 3 minutes."

OFF: Tag Team!

[Thundera]

ON: <<Hotel Direidi>>
<Basement, 1908, Day 3>

As Cheetara became coherient, she began to understand the words to the questions being asked.

"Are you ok?" Amanda asked. "You were out of it for almost 3 minutes."

"I'm not sure yet Doctor. I seem to have had another vision. But this time it was much more intense. It was as if I was there myself, seeing it, feeling it. It all seemed so real. But I know it was not me because I was here, and the reflection I saw of myself was in fact not me. Unless I've somehow become a man."

Cheetara continued to tell Darkhelm and Soren of what she had seen, in the order she had seen it, detail after detail. Soren watched in aww at the extreme details Cheetara laid out one after another.

"It seems our mystery should continue to that warehouse", he suggested.

"I'm not so sure going there would be a good idea. Even with that last vision, we have no idea of what to expect", Cheetara explained.

"Well the Captain did say to fully investigate the fluctuations and your visions. So I say the warehouse is as good a place as any to investigate. Especially seeing how it was in your vision", Soren retorted.

Cheetara disregarded his comment and turned back to the doctor. "So were you able to track down the location of these visions?"

[Abubakar]

ON: Arrowhawk cockpit. 1913. Day 3.

"Lieutenant Jaran to Captain Kersare"

Isabel paused and tapped her commbadge, "This is Kersare, go ahead."

"Captain," Abubakar began, his eyes flickering over to the charred shuttle that was laying on its side in the sand. "I've found the debris, it's worse than the Malinche reported ma'am..." He paused, "the pattern of the landings would indicate that a section of the Sirion was blown away from the main hull and touched down." Sensing his Captains reaction, the same as every Captain, he added - "it would also indicate the Sirion is still somewhere else Captain, the debris field is definately not large enough to be the result of the entire ship exploding, nor is there any mass of debris in orbit."

Worse, but at least the ship was still...somewhere, rather than all over Direidi in little bits. "I'd suggest getting a few samples - take them to the Malinche so the Science Department can start analyzing them; I'm sure Lieutenant Sovereign will want to take a look herself once she's back on board. Is there anything else you can tell from the debris field there?"

Abubakar scanned the shuttle, no life signs. "Acknowledged Captain, I already have a sample of the hull with me, unfortuntely this ship wasn't designed for cargo and they didn't fit a tractor beam." His eyes once again fell towards the shuttle. "Nothing else Captain...But I'll be bringing in Arrowhawk, I'll need you to activate the landing protocol I mentioned in the hotel earlier.

"Very well, carry on. Once you're finished, please meet myself and Ensign Rayne at the trial," Isabel said. "Kersare out."

Abubakar nodded, somewhat uselessly, and closed the channel.

He had to check out the shuttle, it could hold some form of key to what happened. Before he beamed out, an idea struck Abubakar ((OOC: Hence why I'm writing a post at 00:33 before I forget the idea ;p )), he scanned the large piece of hull that was jutting out of the ground, it was badly charred at all edges, and the metal had been severely damaged on impact too, but within a few seconds he found what he was looking for - a totally undamaged piece of the hull. Setting that result against the heavily radiated piece he had in the hold on the sensors display, he asked the computer to run a comparative analysis.

The Arrowhawk was a stealth combat fighter, not a runabout, and as such didn't have the sensors or the packages to do what he wanted to do at any great speed, or to the accuracy he would have aboard Malinche, but eventually the analysis completed.

It took about 30 minutes, but Abubakar was finally on to something; by finding out how long the weapons energy had been on the hull fragment, and by 'rewinding' the planets rotation and orbit he could tell exactly what relative direction this area of the surface was 'facing'. Then he cross-referenced the size of the debris field and impact-depths thus gathering how fast approximately the debris was travelling , which in turn also gave him an approximate idea of exactly how far above the surface the Sirion was - all this would enable him to track down the precise location of where the Sirion was when this, whatever 'this' was, happened and ultimately where the Malinche could look for some kind, any kind, of abnormality against the backdrop of the surrounding area - if they found one, such as frozen oxygen from a hull breach, or tiny hull fragments peeling off of Sirion as it moved - it was distintly possible it would create a trail that could potentialy lead to the Sirion, and hopefuly the crew as well.

Abubakar knew it was a lot of if, buts and maybes, but Special Forces taught you something; anything is worth trying. The locations would also give him an area in which the ship could scan for other debris, by attaching the same impact speed to the opposite directions in a 'typical' explosive sphere, and the same length of time, they would get the distance the debris could travelled, and thus a search area. Seeiing as though one shuttle had made it, Abubakar was thinking it wouldn't be a bad idea to conduct a Search and Rescue flight to look for any pods or other shuttles.

Whilst the computer was churning through all the information he had asked its limited computer to process, Abubakar beamed out to go visit the shuttle - sighing as he walked that his theories could turn out bull, as the Arrowhawks best sensors were still only combat ones - the latest and most advanced in service - but still just combat sensors all the same.

OFF:

With JPingness by;

Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
U.S.S Malinche

[Sovereign]

<<USS Malinche>>
<Main Engineering, Day 3, 1935>

One Sensor probe, five comm badges, two tricorders, six transporter enhancers, a slew of equipment from the science lab that Yrel wasn't going to even begin to name, describe, and define at the moment, were all broken apart and littered the floor of the small alcove in which Yrel had decided to conduct her work while Barrett was off on some...task - for lack of any other way to describe it - with Rhone. She had blown him off in favour of getting work done that was important to the mission. They were going to need these enhancers and the sooner they were done, the better.

<i>'I think Engineering was less of a mess <b>before</b> I started this,'</i> she mentally noted to herself. An obvious statement, but something she thought was worth a note. IT probably had something to do with the fact the CEO...uh, Peters or something...was going to be PISSED after seeing this, created by a science officer no less. <i>'Could always try to apologize to him...'</i> she paused, <i>'Nah! I'm better off cleaning this up before I go.'</i>

It was a shame that cleaning was not in Yrel's extensive experience of life. Making messes was easy for her, she'd done that for various things in her life. Including her love life.

"Oh, don't get thinking about that, old girl," she muttered, sitting back in a chair while staring done at the litter of parts in front of her and the clean work bench to her left. "It's not worth revisiting all that drama. The mission, focus on that."

"Did you say something, ma'am?" asked Ensign C'eltor(NPC), assistant cheif of engineering and acting cheif engineer in Peters absance.

"Uh, it's nothing," Yrel replied. "Just thinking out loud." She let out a bit of forced chuckle. "You know us science nuts."

"Oh," C'eltor said and looked down at Yrel's mess. "Need help?"

Yrel shook her head. "It's okay, I can handle this. You're better off handling the repairs of the ship. Still plenty to do, right?"

C'eltor rolled her eyes. "No kidding." She smiled and walked off to do more work.

"Sovak to Sovereign," came Yrel's comm badge, not yet cannibalised for the sensor enhancers.

<i>'Sovak...Sovak...why does that name sound familiar?'</i> she thought.

<i>'She's your assistant cheif, dumby,'</i> her mind snapped back, causing Yrel to wince at her own lapse in intellect.

Yrel tapped her chest, "Sovereign here, go ahead."

"Ma'am," started the crisp vulcan voice of the acting cheif officer of the Malinche with so many senoir officers off ship. "We've received a communcation from the planet. A piece of ship debris is coming aboard soon, possibly from the <i>Sirion</i>. Your pressance and expertice may be required."

At first, Yrel wanted to say "Not now, I'm busy!", but that soon passed. A piece of the ship...possibly. Something more solid she could look into right for dealing with the mission."

"When it gets here, have it brought to the science lab," she replied.

"Ackwoledged," Sovak said and cut the comm link.

Yrel stood up, dusted off her uniform pants and started for the exit of engineering. Start one mess, clean up another.

"Leaving, ma'am?" C'eltor asked.

"Yup, and I'm leaving you behind a new mess too," Yrel half grinned, pointing to her work area. C'eltor sighed.

"Thanks, ma'am."

"No problem, messes are my forte."

OFF:

OCC to Barrett: Please don't use my character like that again, please.

OOC to Jaran: That last bit interfers with anything you were going to do, let me know and I'll change it.