Lost And Found (JM with USS Sentinel/Peacekeeper)

[Kersare]

<<USS Malinche, Britney's Quarters, 0109, Day 4>>

It was coming closer, she could hear it. She'd run through the corridor outside her quarters and it was behind her. She never saw it, but she knew it was there. She heard it.

"Resistance is futile."

She ran into her quarters and closed the door, but within seconds, it was pounding on her door. The door would never hold it back, it would find her. It would find her and assimilate her. It would pierce her eye, inject nanites into her, and she would be no more..."

"NO!!!!!" Britney (PNPC) screamed, sitting up in bed quickly. The Direidian blinked in the darkness. Her fingers searched over her body - no Borg implants. It had been a dream.

Visibly shaking, Britney said, "Computer, lights on, 65%." As the lights came on, Britney's eyes searched the room for any sign of...well...anything out of the ordinary. Disturbed by the dream, she pulled her knees up to her chest and slowly rocked back and forth, trying to calm herself.

It was her fault, really, the nightmare. She'd been reading up on the Borg before going to bed and this had been the result. But, Britney felt like she should know what they were truly up against - what fellow crewmembers were being sent to combat. Judging by what she'd read and the files she'd seen, it was extremely dangerous.

If her parents knew what danger she was potentially in, they would never have allowed her to leave Direidi. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure she would have taken the Captain up on her offer if she'd known what she would now have to face. Well, what the ship was facing...as of yet she'd still never actually seen a Borg. She hoped to keep it that way.

What had she gotten herself into? Maybe she just wasn't cut out for this whole StarFleet life... Maybe she should ask to go back to Direidi. Her thoughts were jumbled - she couldn't think straight. The adventure, the excitement - that was why she wanted to come in the first place. And now, at the first sign of trouble, she was ready to turn back?

Britney desperately wished for one of her friends. Unfortunately, her current roommate was on night shift and the others were either also on night shift or asleep. With all the events of the mission, they needed what rest they could get. There was always tomorrow - wasn't there?

Reluctantly she slipped back under the covers of her bed and laid still on her back for a few moments before rolling onto her side and curling up, "Computer, lights off."

OFF:

Crewman Britney Liras (PNPC)
Captain's Yeoman
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

played by:

[Kersare]

<<USS Malinche, Outside Zeral's Quarters, 2117, Day 3>>

Her mind was a jumble. Actually it had been a jumble ever since she saw the drone...her husband...well, maybe her husband. Actually seeing it...him...had been better, yet worse. Right now Isabel just needed to sort things out. While she didn't usually seek out counselors - she'd had enough of explaining all her feelings after losing her husband the first time - she did like Nora. It certainly couldn't hurt to talk to her. The one thing she did worry about was allowing the counselor to see her vulnerabilities - Isabel felt she needed to stay strong for the crew and somehow breaking down didn't fit into that idea.

Still somewhat shaken, Isabel stepped forward and rang the doorchime.

The long day was finally starting to catch up with Nora. A light meal helped some, as did a truly decadent slice of cheesecake she'd enjoyed following it. She knew that she should probably think about getting some sleep, but the thought held no appeal to her. She was too caught up in her thoughts, analyzing her first day aboard the Malinche and the varied events the day had brought with it.

The sound of the doorchime was a welcome diversion. "Come in," she called without hesitation, rising from her chair to meet her unexpected guest.

At Nora's words, Isabel slowly entered the counselor's quarters. "Good evening, I hope I'm not disturbing you..." She was aware that it was a bit late to be calling on her counselor, but she wasn't sure what else to do.

"Of course you're not," Nora assured her, welcoming her inside with a smile. "Please, make yourself comfortable." One look at Isabel would have been enough for her to see that something was wrong. She sensed it as much as she saw it, and in the space of an instant any exhaustion she felt melted away as her role as counselor and, hopefully, friend took over. "How are you feeling?" she began, seating herself in a chair. "Survive the long day relatively unscathed, I hope?"

"Relatively unscathed, I suppose," Isabel replied. Seeing the couch, she made her way there and took a seat. "More unscathed than the Sentinel, it would seem...possibly the away team, though I'm not sure." Not quite sure how to even get to the part about her husband, Isabel danced around the issue...the other things she was bringing up were also important and disconcerting, but at the moment, Derek (NPC) was the forefront of her mind.

"It really was quite the day," Nora replied quietly, leaving out the details from her own day hectic day spent in Sickbay. She was happy enough forgetting it for the moment.

"It seems that the Borg have made their way onto the Sentinel somehow. I've not heard back from Captain Lange since his initial report of that fact, but I'm going to check in with him if I don't hear back soon. I'm hoping they can get things under control, but..." Isabel let her voice drift off.

The news of the Sentinel was terrible, to be sure, but the counselor was aware that something else was on the Captain's mind. "Was there something else you wanted to talk about, Captain?" Nora finally asked, her words gentle but nonetheless blunt. "I'd be happy to talk about it with you, if you'd like. Or," she smiled slightly, "we could always commiserate over drinks. In my professional opinion, both methods have been found to be very effective."

Isabel rarely drank anything alcoholic and really she should keep her mind sharp. At the same time, it was hard to relax under the circumstances...and if she had something to eat with it or once she went to her quarters... "Do you have any suggestions, Lieutenant?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I've already enjoyed a glass or two of white wine tonight--not my usual habit, but after such a chaotic first day as Chief Counselor..." Rising from her chair, Nora strode over to the replicator. "I think I may need one more glass. Care to join me?"

Nodding, Isabel replied, "I suppose one glass wouldn't hurt."

A few seconds later Nora had the two glasses from the replicator, offering one to Isabel and keeping the other for herself. "Here you are. One of the first things I learned at the Academy, believe it or not, was that the occasional consumption of alcohol really can be extremely therapeutic. Off-duty, of course," she was quick to add, grinning before taking a sip from her glass.

"Thank you," she replied. Isabel hesitated still...and took a sip of the drink. "I suppose I should," she admitted quietly. "Have you heard about the drone that was brought aboard?"

"Yes, but not much, I'm afraid," Nora replied. "I heard something about it from one of the other counselors on my way out of Sickbay, but it was still just a rumor at that point."

Isabel glanced over at Nora and took another sip of her wine, "Well, it is the truth. I asked the away team to bring him over after seeing him via the video link from the Sirion."

Taking a leisurely sip, the Betazoid pondered on that bit of information. "Fascinating," she whispered, at once compelled and unnerved by the thought of any Borg whatsoever. She was only one of many who had had unpleasant encounters with them, though her experience was still far less traumatic than Isabel's had been. It made her wonder just what it was about this particular drone that was affecting the other woman. "Do we know very much about the drone?" Nora asked carefully, watching for Isabel's reaction.

"Know for a fact, no..." she replied. "That should be revealed soon though; the doctor is running some tests."

Her reaction really wasn't very telling, and Nora didn't dare delve any deeper with her telepathic abilities. That would have been unethical. "Minus the facts," she pressed on gently, "what is it about this drone that we may know?" It was just a hunch, but something was definitely being left out. "Is it male? Female?" An innocent question, but one that for some reason seemed very important.

"Male," Isabel said. Still she hesitated in telling Nora everything, but it was because the telling would make the horrible probability more real. It was better to just say it though - sooner or later, if it were true, everyone would know. "I think it's Derek...." she said quietly, closing her eyes briefly and looking away - it was difficult to say out loud, especially now that she'd seen him.

Nora's dark eyes widened imperceptibly, and before she could help herself she took a large gulp of her wine before setting the glass down. "You've seen him in person?" she asked simply, her voice level and calm.

Isabel nodded slowly, "Right before I came here, actually..." Her eyes stared at her wine as she swirled it around the glass.

There was a momentary silence as Nora carefully constructed her next question. "Are you happy that it may be your husband? Or is the prospect...unnerving?" she finally asked, aware that her question was a difficult one. "Of course you would be happy that he is alive," she clarified, trying to make the question easier. "But often times when a person loses a loved one to the Borg, they grieve for them as though they were actually dead. It must be difficult to contemplate on his life as a drone, to plan for his reintroduction into our way of life."

StarFleet, it seemed, had found a good counselor for the Malinche. "I think I'm more sad that it could be Derek...I know he wouldn't have wanted to live his life this way. Part of me is happy at the idea, I suppose, but deep down I know that if we're even able to de-assimilate him things won't just go back to the way they were. They couldn't. Part of me hopes it isn't him..."

"And that's perfectly natural," Nora swiftly assured her. "You loved your husband just as he was. But," she smiled weakly, "things don't necessarily have to be the same as they once were for you to find happiness with each other again. It's something to think about, at least, while you sort through all of these other conflicting emotions that I'm sure you must be feeling."

Isabel bit her lower lip slightly as she considered what Nora told her. She desperately wanted to believe that Derek was truly there, deep down, and that they could somehow rediscover what they once had...but how would she be able to be around him or even just know he was alive but nothing of his former self? What if he couldn't be saved? She didn't want to grieve all over again. But, perhaps the Counselor was right. "Yes," she replied finally, "I suppose that is something for me to consider. I appreciate your seeing me so late. If you don't mind, I think I'll return to my quarters...I have a lot to think about..."

"Of course." Nora rose from her chair to escort her to the door. "I'm glad you stopped by, Captain. If there's anything more I can do, please don't hesitate to let me know. Anything at all." Be that meeting with her again or meeting with the drone that could be her husband, she was up to the task. For now it was best to let Isabel see to herself, to take all the time she needed to decide how she wanted to proceed, emotionally or otherwise.

"Thank you, Counselor. I'll let you know if I need anything. Enjoy the rest of your evening," Isabel replied, offering her best attempt at a smile as she walked over to the door with Nora. She seriously doubted she'd be able to enjoy her evening - she'd be glad just to be able to sleep. Then again, considering all that was going on, she might not have much of a chance for that tonight anyway.

"Good night, Captain." Alone in her quarters once again, Nora padded back to the chair she'd been sitting in, collecting her glass and finishing her wine with a few more leisurely sips. Unlike Isabel, she was going to sleep like the dead tonight. If her first day aboard the Malinche was any indication, she was going to need a good night's rest before facing her second day.

OFF:

JP brought to you by:

Lieutenant JG Nora Zeral
Chief Counselor
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

and

[Masterson]

ON: <<Main Bridge, USS Malinche, MD04, 0030>>

The ship had come out of nowhere. Will had been lucky...well, luckier than most. As he made his way slowly down the corridor, he held his phaser at the ready. His senses were alert for any sign of another person. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the altered environmental controls.

Another step brought him closer to the end of the corridor and he was afraid of what he might find there. Suddenly, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He spun around to see the zombie-like form of a Borg drone standing right behind him, staring at him with it's one good eye. The other had been replaced by a mechanical device of unknown purpose. Will could still see the Starfleet uniform under the implants and wondered for a fleeting moment who the poor officer might have been.

?Lieutenant,? the drone said in the eerie voice of the collective, ?Sir...?

Will's eyes snapped open and he lifted his head a few inches. A firm hand gripped his shoulder as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Looking down, he saw that he had fallen asleep against his console. As he turned, he saw Lt. JG Summers (NPC) standing next to him. ?Sir...are you alright,? he asked with a look of concern.

?Fine,? Will replied, regaining his senses and punching a few commands into his console. Summers looked at him as if he didn't quite believe what Will was saying, but Will tried to convince him with a reassuring smile. After a few moments, Summers nodded and held out a padd.

?The specs you wanted, sir,? he said. Will took the padd and set it on his console.

?Thank you, lieutenant,? Will told the man. Summers nodded again and headed off to the turbolift, disappearing from view. Will looked up at the main viewer where he could see the faint outline of the Sirion and the image of the Sentinel. Shaking his head to clear it a bit more, he went back to work. There was still much to be done and even less time to do it in.

OFF

A JP by

Lt. JG Summers (NPC)
Operations Officer
USS Malinche

&

[Hawkins]

<USS Malinche, CMO office, MD03, 0045>

Erasmus took the mug from the replicator and sat down at the disc, he turned the terminal round and checked on the status of the DNA check, the nebula was preventing getting a good subspace link with Starfleet Medical on Earth and the search was taking a lot longer than usual.

He took a sip of coffee and leant back in the chair, the chair tipping slightly to accommodate the move, he took another sip and the spoke, ?Computer begin recording log...?

There was a beep from the computer signalling he could begin ?Acting Chief Medical Officers Log, supplemental. I?m still waiting on the reply from Starfleet medical regarding the DNA test the captain requested, I?m a little surprised by her eagerness, obviously it?s something that would be done eventually, but she seemed insistent that it was done sooner rather than later?

He paused and took another sip from the mug, ?We removed the Borgs neural link and therefore its ability to communicate with the collective while it was unconscious, while this should hopefully remove the immediate danger of them communicating with the Borg, we won?t know if the extraction has had any serious effects on its health until it wakes up.

He was about to continue when the console beeped at him and flashed a message on the screen regarding a match, ?Computer, pause recording.? Erasmus activated the screen and brought up the report on the match, his eyes widened as he re-read the report, still shocked he reached for his combadge, ?Dr Brooker to Captain Kersare, you might want to come to my office...?

--------



Lieutenant Commander Erasmus Brooker [PNPC]
Doctor

[Steele]

ON: <<Messhall, Day 3, 21:40>>


Dr. John Trout and his wife Loren didn?t have much trouble finding an empty seat at the bar, as most the crew was either working or taking a much needed rest. The two scientists had met Lt. Steele when he transferred to SB Atlantis, who in turn convinced them to seek a transfer to the Malinche.

?Any regrets yet?? Asked John as he took a sip of his drink.

Loren shrugged her shoulders.
?If you?re referring to the fact that we?ve been onboard less than a month and we?re being stalked by the Borg. I wouldn?t say it?s causing me to regret the transfer, however I will admit it?s unexpected. But you know me, always up for a challenge.?

John laughed.
?Is that why you married me. And here I thought it was for my good looks.? The biologist watched as a group of security officers left the messhall.


?Think the senior staff knows about the Bixx??

The Bixx were a little known race which had unexpectedly invaded SB Atlantis in late March of 2382; they were suspected of being biologically connected to the Borg. As Atlantis was a planetary base, the civilian population of Allura was threatened along with the Starfleet personnel. Many science personnel, the Trouts included, took up arms to supplement the security, marine, and law enforcement teams which were nearly overwhelmed by the initial attack.


?I doubt it.? Replied Loren. It seems to be a closely guarded secret. That or something Command doesn?t deem important enough to make general knowledge. I?m sure Steele will inform someone if he deems it necessary.?

?You?re probably right. Either way it?s not our concern. What do you say we try and get some rest. If there?s one thing I?ve learned from my years working with Starfleet, it?s that quite often sleep is a rare commodity.?

As Loren was in agreement, the couple placed their cups back in the replicator before heading for their quarters on deck 8.

Off:

Doctors John and Loren Trout- NPC
Science Division

[Akios]

<<USS Sirion, Corridor, 2044, Day 3>>

"Unless someone has a better idea," Akios said to the others, "I suggest we barricade ourselves in one of these labs and see if we can access the internal sensor network from there, and find out what's going on with the Borg on the bridge before we try to head up."

"It's certainly worth a shot," Mikaela (PNPC) replied. "After what just happened I'd like to know how many are still on board, and hopefully where." Her mind drifted back to what happened after beaming the drone to the Malinche...the end was more a blur. The longer she was on the Sirion, the longer she wondered if they'd get off the ship. However, considering that the ship wasn't totally assimilated yet and that it wasn't completely swarming with Borg, there was probably a limited number.

Jon (NPC) looked around, his eyes darting back and forth. "What if they're around the corner? What if they're in the labs???? They seem to be all around us!"

"You're not going to accomplish anything by panicking. Just stay alert and stay with us," Mikaela told him.

The Andorian ensign squared his shoulders, though his antennae betrayed his tension. "It doesn't matter if they are all around us, as long as we're not where they expect us to be. If these were sensible Borg, they would expect us to try to reach mission critical systems--Engineering, the computer core, life support control, and the like. A science lab doesn't fit the profile. However, since these aren't sensible Borg, I guess we should expect them to randomly walk in on us, and be waiting for them. I think configuring our tricorders for a proximity scan should cut through most of the interference, at short range." He tapped the controls of his tricorder, drew his phaser, and moved up beside one of the lab doors. "Stellar cartography. I think it will have the resources I need." He swept his tricorder in front of the door, and checked the readout. "Looks clear."

Akios moved up to the opposite side of the door, and when Firvan nodded that he was ready, the Aurelian thumbed the wall panel to open the door, not wanting to step in front of it where the motion sensor would detect him.

Staying back slightly, allowing Firvan to take the lead, Mikaela watched, her senses on high alert with all the adrenaline running through her. She watched him enter the Science lab, then motion for them to join him. The Engineer stepped through the door, then moved to the side to allow the others to come inside.

Once they were inside, Akios closed the door, locked it, and manually cut power. "That will do it, short of the Borg actually tearing a hole in it. What do you need to get started, Firvan?"

"Sensors--need to see if we can access them directly from here, without screaming to the rest of the ship that we're here," he said.

Mikaela nodded, "We should be able to mask the signal and bounce it around to avoid them finding us - at least right away... And if we're just using the internal sensors, we should be able to hide that as well."

Though he was nervous, Jon listened to what Mikaela suggested. Honestly, he was glad to have something else to think about it. "Do we have time to mask it? If we just want to take a quick look we might want to skip that."

"Better take the time. If the Borg detect that quick look, we'll be on the run." Akios searched the storage compartments in the lab, and came up with another tricorder. "There should be enough components around for me to modify this to use the holographic signal band. It won't transmit or receive holographic images, but it should be enough to get us back in contact with Malinche."

Firvan had opened a wall panel. "This will work. The subprocessor in this section has direct ties to the main computer and sensors. I can work from here if the Bridge isn't an option."

"Alright," Mikaela replied. "Jon and I will work on the masking. Let's try this out and go from there...the sooner we can get off this ship, the better."

Jon headed to the nearest console and started tapping at the controls.. All he wanted was to get back to the Sentinel and away from all these Borg. If Mother saw him now! He started feeling lightheaded just thinking about talking to her. "Better not think of that," he said to himself.

Mikaela, coming up behind him, said, "What was that?"

"Nothing, just hoping the others are okay."

Now that he mentioned it, Mikaela did wonder what had become of the others. They hadn't heard from anyone since they transported off the deck they were on when the Borg were coming. Pulling off the panel below the console and setting it aside, the uneasy feeling remained with her. "Shouldn't we have heard from someone by now?"

Akios looked up from the tricorder he was modifying, and checked his working tricorder. "We're still being jammed. The jamming field we set up can't still be running. It must be the Borg." He switched the tricorder back to proximity scan, and walked over to the door. "The corridor's still clear. How are you doing, Firvan?"

"I've almost got it. We'll be able to tap into internal sensors. The Borg have modified the control systems, but since they're still controlling Federation technology, it wasn't to hard to come up with a translation interface, and any commands we issue will look like they've come from a terminal on deck six. Even if the Borg detect what we're doing, they'll go to the wrong place looking for us."

"I've finished modifying the tricorder," Akios said, "but chances are slim that it'll penetrate any Borg jamming. As soon as the masking is ready, we'll give it a try. The sooner we get to the bridge, the better."

Tapping in the last few commands, Mikaela announced, "The masking's ready now, Ensign." As she waited for his reply, she couldn't help but wonder when the Borg had set up the jamming field...perhaps it was after they took the drone earlier. It certainly wouldn't help the away team in any event. They needed to get that jamming field down so they could contact the ships and, for that matter, each other.

Jon anxiously walked over to where Akios was standing, a worried look on his face. He wanted to get to the bridge and out of these awful corridors and decks where Borg could be lurking anywhere. Hopefully there was a clear path... Jon tried to keep his mind focused, but his mother's words kept intruding on his thoughts.

When Jon walked over, Akios reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Let's give it a try, then. Mr. Firvan?"

"I'm rerouting the command pathways...now," Firvan said. "Directing sensor readings to workstation one. I'm following the existing sensor sweep pattern. Bridge should be coming up in five seconds. Can you see anything?"

Akios left the door and walked over to the station where the displays were showing fragmented deck layouts. "There's a lot of interference," Akios said, tapping at the console. I'll try to clean it up."

On three different screens, deck displays came up and filled in. First, deck three, then deck two, and then the bridge. "It's not a live display--it's accumulating the clearest reading we're getting and painting them together." He looked at the deck two display. "That's us," he said, pointing at flickering symbols on the screen. "Looks like the immediate area is clear, but...look at that." He pointed towards the center of the deck. "Half a dozen lifesigns, looks like, but they don't appear to be Borg. I think that's the computer core. It could be Lieutenants Peters and Quaid." Then he turned his attention to the deck one display. Glancing at the others, he said, "So what do you think?"

Mikaela leaned in and took a closer look at the display, "I know when we left the bridge there were a couple Borg there as well as some of our fellow crewmates - so that would account for the multiple lifesigns we're seeing. I think we have to give it a try; we need to get onto the Bridge and the sooner the better. If we find only Borg on the bridge, we can turn around and head here," she pointed on the screen, "to Auxiliary Deflector Control ? that would also give us access to Impulse Control and more Engineering functions."

She looked around at the group as they contemplated, then slowly nodded their heads, "Alright, let's go."

OFF: JP brought to you by:

Lieutenant JG Mikaela Breland (PNPC)
Damage Control Specialist
USS Sentinel NCC-74673
(played by Chief Petty Officer Kilana Nira)

and

[Zeral]

<<USS Malinche, Zeral's Quarters, 0504, Day 4>>

To put it lightly, Nora had had better mornings. An early riser by nature, the moment her dark eyes fluttered open she knew she was going to pay for her liberal helpings of wine the night before. There was an insistent pounding in her head that wasn?t likely to be going away anytime soon and even the soft lighting in the room hurt her eyes. Hurriedly shielding them with her hand, she groaned loudly. ?Three glasses of wine, Nora?? she mumbled to herself with no small amount of disdain. ?Three??

The fact of the matter was that Nora wasn?t much of a drinker at all. And while alcohol was indeed therapeutic when used properly, perhaps she?d used it beyond the scope of medicinal purposes. Throwing one leg off of the bed and then the other, she determinedly went through her morning routine as per usual.

A hot shower helped things, but what she really needed now was some coffee. ?Coffee, black,? she told the replicator, holding the drink in her hands for a long moment before finally taking a sip. Her grimace of distaste didn?t stop her from drinking half the cup. Coffee wasn?t exactly one of her favorite things in the world. Setting the mug down on the table, Nora decided she was as ready as she was going to be. She was determined to get to her office early to straighten things out before her day really got into full swing. With the prior day fresh in her mind, something told her this new day wasn?t going to be any less busy. The counselor was going to need all the preparation she could get.

OFF

[Kersare]

<<USS Malinche, Bridge, 0231, Day 4>>

Joshua (NPC) looked at the console in front of him. Nothing really exciting. Of course, that was likely because the ship hadn't gone anywhere since they dis-engaged MVAM the day before. Of course, he needed to be on the bridge, but it was still boring at times like this.

Well, as a Flight Control Officer his job was boring at the moment anyway... But he certainly didn't envy the Engineering, Security, or Intel crewmembers who were part of the away team. Josh shuddered, he never wanted to be anywhere near a Borg drone. He'd be perfectly happy to never see one at all.

Josh looked over at the Communications station above and to the left of him, "Any luck Caitlyn(NPC)?"

The young woman turned around, "Same as the last time you asked ten minutes ago. They're still not responding. Their external communications must not be working, otherwise we would've gotten a response by now."

"Yeah, that must be it. I just hope it's not further complications with the Borg," he replied. That'd be all they needed. One ship against two...

"Has the Sentinel moved at all?" Might as well continue with the time-killing game, she thought.

"Not since the last time you asked...I imagine the crew's a bit busy right now to be worrying about where the ship is," Josh said.

Caitlyn nodded. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke up again, "Do you think they're alright?"

Hesitating before answering her, Josh finally said, "I don't know. I doubt that all of them are, not with Borg on board.... We don't even know how our away team is doing at this point. But I also don't think all of them are...harmed. If so, the Borg would have totally taken control of the ship by now and fired on us or gotten away."

His words weren't exactly comforting to her, but really it was the same conclusion she'd come to. She'd had a good deal of time to think about the situation - one of the "benefits" of a night shift when things were at something of a standstill - and none of the possibilities seemed particularly promising. "You're probably right."

Both looked over as they heard the turbolift doors slide open. A harried, tired looking Isabel Kersare stepped out of the turbolift.

As Isabel walked onto the bridge, her tired eyes looked around at those on duty. Most didn't seem too perky, not that she expected that at this time during a mission like this. She hated to think what she looked like at this point - no real sleep to speak of, the findings Erasmus had just shared with her....

"Ensign Holtman, anything from the Sentinel?" Isabel looked over at the Communications Officer.

"No ma'am, still no word from them," Caitlyn informed her. It looked like the Captain hadn't slept in weeks.

Isabel nodded slowly, "Keep me informed; I'll be in my Ready Room." What she really needed was something hot with caffeine in it. Maybe some cocoa.

"Of course, Captain," she replied. Before turning back around, she caught Josh's eye and raised her eyebrows. The Captain wasn't usually like that, so distracted. It was a little unnerving.

Caitlyn tapped at her console, "USS Sentinel, this is the USS Malinche, please respond..."

OFF:

NPCs played by Kersare

[Peters]

ON: <USS Malinche, Transporter Room 1, 0200, Day 4>

Ensign Fields was bored. He was often bored when he got stuck on the graveyard shift. And he'd already done all of the standard diagnostics on the transporters three times. He couldn't even play any games with anyone, as there was no signal from the Sentinel and all of his usual partners on the Malinche were asleep or busy with more important jobs than his.

He also couldn't help but worry about the Borg. Boredom and nagging worry were a bad combination, especially at 2 in the morning. And then there was his shipmates on the Sirion. He had no idea what was going on there. Communications had still been down with the Sirion when he'd come on duty, so he didn't know if they'd been re-established or not.

All of that left him bored and doubly worried. That was worse than just bored and worried. And if he was really honest with himself, he was damn near petrified at the thought of the Borg being on a Starfleet ship so close by... and possibly even two of them. The mere thought of it was enough to make his skin crawl. So, to distract himself, he started on a fourth round of diagnostics.

Luckily for Fields? nerves, this one brought up a slight flutter in the annular confinement beam. With a slightly masochistic sense of satisfaction, Fields pulled out his tool kit and knelt down by the transporter platform. He would tune that flutter out of the ACB if it took his whole shift. At least he wouldn?t be bored.

OFF:

Ensign Chris Fields (NPC)
Transporter Operator
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
As Played by:

[Masterson]

ON: <<Main Bridge, MD 04, 0100>>

Will yawned slightly as he continued to pour over the system display on his console. The captain wanted sensors to help them find their way in the nebula and so far, things were sketchy at best. From what Will had heard, the Borg had somehow managed to get aboard the Sentinel and who knew whether the Malinche was next.

The screen blurred before his eyes and he took a moment to pause and look away, rubbing his eyes and bowing his head from exhaustion. He hadn't slept soundly in over three days and it was starting to wear on him. Refocusing, he began the analysis again.

Aaron downed another cup of coffee in an effort to stay awake. Science had reached their limit on modifying the sensors, so Aaron was assigned to work with Operations in an effort to further enhance them and finally get out of the nebula. He knew how to use the sensors but modifying them was a whole ?nother story, but they were in a crisis situation causing everyone to do more than normal.

After gathering all the relevant data from the Science Department, Aaron made his way to meet with Lt. Schulz. Coming up aside the Operations Officer, Aaron tried to make sense of what was on the screen.
?Figure out anything yet??

"I can't tell if its the nebula interference or something left over from whatever crippled the Malinche earlier," Will replied, "So far, the best I can get is sketchy. You'd do better taking a look out a viewport at the moment.?

?That might work, but I doubt the captain would approve of that method. Down in science we think we found a way to detect the Borg ships but the problem is it wouldn?t be until we?re right on top of them.? Aaron set down the PADDs he had been carrying. ?Were there any scans taken of the Nebula when we entered it??

Will typed in a few commands to start the search, then said, "If there are, I'm sure that some of the data would have been corrupted by the computer failures. I can transfer what I've got over to you." Will was watching the screen absentmindedly when something caught his eye. "That's it," he exclaimed, slapping his hand on the edge of the panel more enthusiastically than he had intended.

"SONAR...Invented in the 20th Century on Earth," Will explained, "It used sound waves to allow ocean going vessels to 'see' other objects and ships in the water by the reflection the sound made off the object. What if we used the nebula to find out where the Borg ship would be by what would be disrupting the 'normal' scan of the nebula."

?SONAR, sound navigation and ranging. I?m familiar with it. I used to serve on a planetary base with a large ocean. While there I helped create a unmanned submersible, one of the sensors on it was SONAR.? Aaron studied the data on the screen for a minute before continuing.

?That should, in theory, allow us to find the other ships in the nebula. Now we just have to figure out how to create SONAR here. Maybe the deflector dish??

"The deflector dish would help to amplify the sensor pulses and transmit them through the nebula," Will said slowly, "But if I remember my history correctly, SONAR also made the scanning vessel visible. We may find out what's out there, but we'll be evident to them as well."

Aaron shrugged.
"True, but I have a feeling the subs of old were expecting their counterparts to use SONAR. Somehow I doubt the Borg are expecting use to use SONAR. The only problem I see is we don't know the speed of sound in this nebula."

"You're right," Will replied, tapping a few buttons on his console and pulling up the schematics of the sensor grid. He began looking them over quickly to see if there was a way to modify them for SONAR use.

"There's a couple I knew from Atlantis that I convinced to follow me here. They know a fair amount about marine science. I could probaly get them to estimate the speed of sound."

"That might work," Will said, "and their help would be appreciated in this project. What if we used ordinary sensor pulses instead of sound? We fire a sensor burst every few seconds as if it were a sound wave and wait for it to reflect back. Then we take all the data and find out where there are dense spots...that would be our ship."

Aaron punched a few commands into the computer before replying.
"That could work, it would be easier and quicker to implement which is a good thing considering the state of things onboard. I'll go round up the Trouts while you get to work on setting up the sensor pulses."

As Steele headed off, Will returned to his console and began the task of programing the sensor pulses. The only other thing they had to do was calibrate the deflector dish. Stretching a bit, he tapped in a few commands and tried to stay focused.

<<Main Bridge, MD 02, 0200>>

Will made the final adjustments to his program and ran another computer simulation. Everything seemed to check out, so he reached for his commbadge and tapped it. "Schulz to Steele," he called, "The sensor pulse is ready. I've tied the program into the main deflector. What do you say we give this thing a shot?"

Science Lab One
Aaron looked over at the Trouts who nodded.
=/\= Steele here. Everything checks out on our end. Let's do it. =/\=

=/\= I'm going to start with one sensor pulse, =/\= Will announced from the bridge, =/\= Here it goes. =/\=

The scientists watched the monitor as the results from the pulse came back. After some calculations, John looked over at Aaron and gave him a thumbs up.
"It's a little rough, but considering the circumstances I think we ought to call it good."

Aaron tapped him commbadge.
=/\= How's it look on your end Schulz? =/\=

Will's hands flew over his board in excitement. =/\= I'd say we've got a problem, =/\= he said slowly, reading what was appearing on his screen.

The scientists exchanged worried looks.
=/\= I'm almost afraid to ask, but what is the problem? =/\=
Aaron inquired.

Will looked up at the nebula displayed on the viewscreen for a moment before answering, =/\= There's something out there. =/\=

END

A JP By:

Lt. JG Steele
Asst. Chief Science Officer
USS Malinche

and

[Starbase 386 Crew]

ON: <Deck 8 - USS Sentinel - Day 4>

?I want everything not bolted to the deck used to reinforce this barricade!? Daggerd yelled indicating a point on the cross-section of Deck 8 displayed before him.

Turning to address the personnel surrounding him ?We may not be able to stop these dam things but we can sure as hell slow them down.?

Daggerd stood addressing the various security personally bustling around the corridor that had become command central for the Borg suppression effort.

Only minutes ago Daggerd was rushing to the bridge of the Sirion, having learned the Sentinel had been boarded by the Borg and Captain Lange and the Chief had already beamed over to deal with the problem. Quickly leaving the security on the remaining personnel Daggerd contacted the Sentinel and beamed out.

?Sir we have a problem.? Said a young female crewman

?Yes!? Daggerd responded, quite forcefully in fact and without taking his eyes off the PADD in his hands.

Daggerd saw the surprise in the young women?s eyes, but he didn?t have time to be polite he simply regained his composure and calmly repeated himself.

?Sir, a group of drones have taken to dismantling one of our barricades? she meekly informed him.

Daggerd had her indicate which barricade was being attacked. He then turned to the nearest officer.

?Disable the turbo lift hear? indicating a lift entrance near the barricade ?and get the security field in this section activated, that should slow them down just long enough for us to secure the adjacent corridor.?

With the two nearest officers departing to carry out his orders Daggerd was left with a moment of peace that was quickly broken by yet another problem?

OFF:

By
_________________
Lieutenant JG Blake Daggerd
Chief Tactical Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673

[Starbase 386 Crew]

ON: <USS Sentinel, Deck 5, Sickbay, 0040, Day 4>

Lange burst into sickbay at a full sprint and skidded to a halt just before smacking into an equipment cart. The on duty nurse looked up from her work just long enough to motion him towards the lab. Once again, Lange ducked through the empty CMO's office and into the lab area on the other side.

"Can I help you, Captain?" the tech working there asked, clearly startled at the sudden interruption.

"I need all the nanites you've produced and I need them now," Lange replied as he tried to make sense of the jumble of equipment on the lab table before him. He couldn't tell what any of it was. Good thing he wasn't a doctor.

"I've only had time to make two batches since you and Doctor Sheppard left," the younger man replied. "They're right over here." He pointed to two small containers resting on a nearby counter.

Lange looked at the two commbadge-sized cases dubiously. He swiftly reminded himself that nanites were smaller than Human Cells. There could be thousands, maybe even millions, of them in those two cases. He only hoped it would be enough.

"Thank you," Lange said as he snatched up the two containers and headed for the door. Before the tech could respond Lange was out the door and sprinting down the corridor back the way he had come.

<Environmental Control, 0055>

"I will never complain about the speed of the turbolifts on Starbases again," Lange swore as he entered the Environmental Control room. It was a cramped room, more like a large closet, with access hatches on every wall. There were also, Lange knew, several rooms just like it scattered around the ship.

"Good thing no Starbase commanders are around to hear you say that," Sheppard replied. "They might just hold you to it." Lange spotted the doctor kneeling beside an access panel in the corner. He looked a bit puzzled.

"Problem?" Lange asked as he set the two small containers next to the larger canister of nanites that Sheppard had brought from the transporter room.

"I'm trying to figure out a way to make sure we release these things into the air circulation system, as opposed to just into the air of this room. They don't exactly have an inlet marked 'nanites go here' in the duct work." The doctor grunted as he shifted positions to let Lange peer into the ship's innards.

"Maybe they should," Lange replied. "Still, maybe we could tap in just after the sampling pump... that pulls of a small stream of just after the Carbon Dioxide scrubbers to check the Oxygen percentage."

Sheppard blinked. "Now why didn't I think of that? If there's a nozzle there it should be about the right size for the dispersion valve on the canister to fit into. Then one of us just has to hold the manual release on the canister."

"Which just leaves the issue of how to tell if they're working," Lange finished. "You find that sample pump and see if there's an inlet of some sort. I'm going to see if the computer will cooperate with me."

Fifteen minutes later they had their answer. Lange held the canister in place and opened the nozzle to let the nanites into the air circulation system. Sheppard watched the security feed from Main Engineering, which had been turned into a warren of Borg alcoves interspersed with remaining Starfleet systems.

?Looks like it?s starting to affect them. I see a couple of drones getting a bit jerky and their tissues showing signs of rejecting the implants,? Sheppard reported. Lange finished emptying the canister, then moved over to look at the screen as well.

The image of Main Engineering looking like a Borg hive pained him, but he couldn?t deny that the Borg were being affected by the nanites. Every Borg in view appeared to be drunk. Then that suddenly changed. One Borg after another regained their composure and started striding purposefully towards different consoles in Engineering.

?Shit!? Lange swore loudly. ?Computer, recognize authorization Captain James Lange, code three-tango-six-alpha. I?m declaring this ship in danger of enemy capture. Lock out all command functions and computer core access with this code.?

Quickly Lange called up a keypad of numbers, letters, and other known symbols. Without looking he randomly typed in digits for a good thirty seconds. After that he gave one last verbal command. ?Execute.?

The computer bleeped acknowledgment. Half the consoles in the room went dark as Lange started tapping in commands on the panel he was at.

?What are you doing?? Sheppard asked quietly.

?Intra-ship communications aren?t considered a Command function and can be routed through the local sub-processors if the Main Computer core is offline? which it is. I?m trying to tie our Commbadges into that system to try and circumvent the Borg lockout of the communication system. If it works, we?ll at least be able to talk to each other. I dunno what we?re gonna do about the Borg.?

?Who are you going to call??

?First, the Bridge. Then, security. After that, Kilana. I?m going to need her to start getting people evacuated from the decks immediately above what the Borg have already assimilated. I have a feeling we?re about to have a big fight on our hands.? Lange looked back at the still active security display and swore, typing commands into his panel faster.

OFF:

Doctor Gabriel Sheppard (NPC)
Chief Medical Officer
USS Sirion
As Played By Captain Lange
_________________
Tony
AKA
Captain James Lange
Commanding Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673
Task Force 22, Horizon Fleet

[Starbase 386 Crew]

ON: <USS Sentinel, Deck 5, Day 4, 0210>

The nanites had failed. Not only had they failed, they'd spurred the Borg into a renewed surge against the Sentinel's crew. Decks 7 and 8 have been over-run and now Deck 6 was threatened. They'd already moved everyone but security out of Deck 6 and into the upper decks of the ship but room was running out and they needed to start moving Deck 5, starting with Sickbay.

Lange ran headlong through the suddenly crowded corridors, ducking past and around crewmen carrying critical equipment up, and items to be used to help with defenses down. The corridors themselves were pandemonium, and Lange didn't have time to stop and figure out who, or what, was going where. Skidding to a halt, Lange straightened his jacket quickly before stepping into Sickbay. He found Kilana already there, helping the nurses pack up medical supplies to take to the mess hall, which would be used as sickbay until they figured out how to push the Borg back.

"What's the status here?" Lange asked Kilana as he tried to catch his breath.

Her eyes conveyed more than she would let her words express, "We have the critical equipment gathered up and some is already on its way to the Mess Hall and the upper decks. The patients have been moved as have most of the staff. Right now we're taking a last look to see if there's anything that could possibly be useful before clearing everyone else out."

"Try and hurry," Lange said quietly. He could tell that most of the people in Sickbay looked as tired as he felt and he didn't want to push them, but he didn't have much of a choice at this point.

"We're trying," Kilana replied. "As you can see, it's pandemonium...well, everywhere." She lowered her voice, "How is Security doing?"

"They're building more barricades on Deck 6 and at all access points to this deck except for a couple of strategic ones to move personnel. I'm afraid the Borg have the advantage, though," Lange replied. He hated to think about the number of officers that he'd already lost to the Borg.

"And what systems do they have....or would it be easier to ask what systems don't they have?" Kilana had seen some pretty bad situations, but this was at best near the top of her list and at worst at the top. If things continued in the direction they seemed to be going in, the top slot would belong to this mission.

"The Main computer is still locked out along with all command functions, but it wouldn't be too hard for them to gain manual control of life support and the main deflector." Lange sighed. He felt like he was in the middle of a patch of quick sand and sinking fast. "We still don't have external communications either."

Kilana nodded, "I've had an Operations team working on the Communications...normally I'd have the Engineers look at it, but...well...the only ones left, that I'm aware of, are on the Sirion, other than myself and our Transporter Operators." It was times like this that she almost wished to be a Vulcan - it was hard to try to just shut off her feelings about losing so many in her department.

"A lot of the Science personnel are unaccounted for too. And I wish I knew where the hell Monroe and Marot were." Lange shook his head. "There's been no word from them since they left for the Malinche in the shuttle."

This was not good news. "Nothing at all? Do we know if they returned to the Sentinel at least?"

"No way of knowing. We lost contact with the Shuttlebay the same time we lost contact with Engineering. That was before they would have been back." Lange shook his head tiredly. "I'm hoping they're safely in the shuttle or aboard the Malinche, but I don't know."

"Has anyone tried to contact them? Internal communications seemed to be working, at least to some extent, the last I checked...," Kilana said.

"Tried. No answer. Communications only seem to be working in un-assimilated sections," Lange replied.

Kilana nodded, "And what about our Executive Officer - what has he been working on?"

"Last I spoke with him he was organizing more support for Security. We're getting spread pretty thin at this point." Lange looked around Sickbay to see what was left. It looked like the last of the critical equipment had been moved while they were talking. "What's left to evacuate on this deck after Sickbay?"

"This is it," Kilana said. She wondered how much they could do at this point, considering how many had already been lost. At this point they wouldn't even be able to try to un-assimilate crewmembers, assuming they'd be able to isolate some. "Perhaps we should check in with the XO?" she suggested.

"Always half a step ahead of me, aren't you?" Lange cocked an eyebrow as he tapped his commbadge. "Lange to Davenport. What's your location?"

"I'm on Deck 6, Aft, Suh," came the crackling, garbled reply. Clearly the link between the commbadges and the public address channels was not holding up well. But beyond that, Lange had to wonder what the hell the commander was doing so close to the battle lines. By this point, that section could be behind the lines.

Considering the fact that they were clearing Deck 5, Kilana wondered why Nigel was on Deck 6. Especially since he hadn't dealt with the Borg - she would've thought he would want to be as far from them as possible.


"What the hell are you doing there, Commander?" Lange asked. "Nevermind. Are you near a terminal that you can patch a visual link through? We need to have a little chat about strategy."

"Aye, suh. Give me just a moment."

Kilana exchanged a glance with James, eyebrows raised. This couldn't be a good idea. "Shouldn't we discuss strategy when we're not quite so close to the Borg?" She said it softly; she didn't want to go against what he'd said, but she was getting more nervous just standing there...especially now that she didn't have anything to do in Sickbay to distract herself.

"I don't plan to go through the whole song and dance. I'll just..." Lange cut off as the center of the control panel in front of them switched into a display screen and Davenport's face appeared with an empty corridor visible behind him.

"You wished to speak with me, suh?" the commander asked brusquely. Lange was really starting to find the man's demeanor aggravating. And that accent grated on his nerves like there was no tomorrow.

"Yes... I want you to tell Lieutenant Daggerd to pull his people back to the access points to Deck 5. Then get yourself to my ready room. we need to... What's that noise?" Lange could hear something, but he wasn't sure what, coming through the comm link.

Apparently they were now giving up Deck 6. Which meant they were down to 1/3 the amount of decks they would usually be occupying. It would be awfully crowded... They'd have to do something soon. As she heard the noise, Kilana looked over at James, a worried look on her face.


"I'm not sure, suh. It's probably not anything major, though. Perhaps an EPS conduit has broken free form its mounting..." Davenport trailed off as he looked off to one side. The look of horror on his face had barely registered in Lange's mind before the Borg drone was within the camera's view.

Kilana's eyes went wide and she gasped at the sight of the drone.

"Oh, that's not good," was all Lange could say as the drone extended its assimilation tubules. He suddenly found he regretted every negative thought he'd had about Davenport.

As she saw Nigel turn around, she saw the nanoprobes had already begun their work. He certainly wouldn't be informing Blake of anything. Another one lost to the Borg... She couldn't dwell on it though - there was still the remaining crew to consider. Kilana turned back to James, "What now? Contact Daggerd?"

Lange stabbed his fingers down on the console and cut the comm link. "Lange to Daggerd," he said as he tapped his commbadge, "get your people off of Deck 6... yesterday. Fall back to Deck 5 and work on fortifying it. Bridge, find a way to get external communications online. I'm on my way there now."

He turned to Kilana and motioned towards the door. "Let's go. We need to contact the Malinche before the Borg get any farther. And for the time being you're the Acting XO."

OFF:

A Joint Post with

Commander Nigel Davenport III (NPC)
Executive Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673
As Played By Captain Lange

and

Chief Petty Officer Kilana Nira
Chief of the Boat/Captain's Yeoman/Acting XO/Acting Chief Engineer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673
_________________
Tony
AKA
Captain James Lange
Commanding Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673
Task Force 22, Horizon Fleet

[Kersare]

ON: <USS Sentinel Bridge, Day 4, 0400>

"Sir?"

Lange looked up with a start, rubbing his eyes to try and focus as the crewman at Ops called for his attention. "What is it?"

"We've gotten communications back online sir," the young officer reported smartly. "I can't give any guarantees how long it will last, though."

Kilana glanced over at the young Operations Officer who'd been assisting the team. He was a bit smug for her taste, especially considering the circumstances, but at least he'd helped. And now they could actually contact the Malinche and hopefully get some assistance. Being on a sinking ship was a bad feeling, she'd discovered.

"Good," Lange replied, throwing a quick glance at his panel to make sure the main computer lockout was still in place. The Borg hadn't cracked his access code yet. Of course, if they got out of this with the ship intact it was going to take Starfleet's cryptologists a week to crack it themselves, since he'd just typed in random numbers, letters, and symbols. "Open a Channel to the Malinche, please."

<USS Malinche, Bridge>

"Ma'am, we're being hailed by the Sentinel," the Communications Officer announced.

"On screen," Isabel said. "Captain Lange, we've been trying to contact you for hours...what's your status?" Seeing the look on James' face, as well as the other Sentinel Bridge Crew, she could tell it couldn't possibly be good. At least her mind would be distracted from the drone...

<USS Sentinel>

"Captain Kersare," Lange said, "I'm afraid we have a serious problem over here. The Borg have been over-running the ship for the past few hours. I estimate that half my crew has been assimilated. And the Nanites didn't work."

Standing on James' right, Kilana swallowed hard. Though it wasn't truly her fault, she felt responsible for the loss of so many crew. Many were officers she'd worked with as Chief of the Boat and a good number of them were Engineers. The Borg had taken them all, with notably few exception.

<USS Malinche>

Isabel wasn't quite sure what to say. What do you say to someone who just lost half of his crew? "I'm sorry to hear about your crew, Captain. What control do you have on the Sentinel?"

"Captain, if I'm reading these sensor reading right the Borg have taken everything from engineering to sickbay. Sensors show Borg drones attempting to access auxiliary control and life support systems. They maybe trying to incapacitate the crew at least the ones they can not currently reach. I would recommend that we attempt to stop them by sending over a security detail heavily armed they could take out the drones get in and lock out the Borg from trying to take total control of the ship."

She was about to answer when James beat her to it.

<USS Sentinel>

"I'm afraid I can't condone sending anyone else over here at the present time. To be blunt, I'm not sure the Sentinel can be saved at this point. I've already locked down our main computer with a code even I don't know, so unless the Borg are faster than Starfleet's most drastic estimates, they won't crack into any major system anytime soon. That includes overall control of Life Support." Lange sighed. "At this point, I think the best course of action is to evacuate all non-essential personnel from the Sentinel to the Malinche."

Kilana's eyes snapped over to James. She wasn't truly surprised by what he said, but it was still a bit shocking to hear it actually vocalized. Actually she was wondering why they didn't all get off the ship - there weren't enough people left, even with the Malinche's help, to regain control of the Sentinel especially since the teams from the Sirion hadn't gotten back to them yet. What was the sense in losing any more?

<USS Malinche>

Isabel nodded, "Of course Captain." She turned to Mason, "Commander, I'd like you to make preparations to have the Sentinel's personnel beamed over, places for them to stay, and make sure the Counseling & Medical Departments are ready as well."

"Aye Captain." Replied Mason.

He didn't like the idea of just giving up on losing any ship especially one of their own. But he turned to his console while the CO's continue their conversation.

=/\=This is Commander Hunt, transporter rooms 1, 3 and 4 stand by for emergency evacuation procedures. Mr. Schulz have security teams clear deck 8 to accommodate the Sentinel crew. CMO assigned medical support personnel to each transporter room and have counseling staff on standby also. This evacuation needs to be quick we don't know how much longer the remaining crew can hold out against the Borg. Alright people let's get to work=/\=

"Preparations are underway, Captain I would like to recommend that we try to stay within transporter range long enough to get them off."

Isabel nodded to the Flight Control Officer to follow Mason's suggestion.

"Captain Lange, what are your plans for the Sentinel? If you don't feel the Sentinel can be saved, I don't see much sense in losing any more crew than you already have," Isabel said. She hated to say it; she certainly didn't want to give up on the Sentinel, but if even her Commanding Officer felt she was a lost cause... And there was no question - with the amount of Borg on board the Sentinel at this point and the damage already done, the ship would have to be destroyed if it couldn't be saved. Starfleet wouldn't be happy, but better that than lose the ship to them.

<USS Sentinel>

Lange hesitated. He didn't want to say what was really on his mind. "I believe that the Sentinel may be a lost cause. I have a couple of last-ditch ideas I want to try, but if those fail, we'll have to destroy her."

"Last ditch ideas?" Kilana said just loudly enough for James to hear. At this point she had no idea what else they could do... She tried to distract her mind from the idea of destroying the ship.

"Yes," Lange replied. "They're crazy, half-baked, and probably dangerous, but I have to try something before giving up my ship."

<USS Malinche>

"Is there anything we can do to support your ideas Captain?" Isabel didn't think she was going to like how this situation would end, but there was little she could do at this point.

<USS Sentinel>

"Actually yes. I need as many portable forcefield generators as you can send me." Lange thought a moment. "And I need them configured for usage against high levels of Theta Radiation. Inoculation shots would be good too. I doubt if we'll be able to synthesize enough."

<USS Malinche>

"Captain, all transporters show green and deck has been cleared. Medical teams are standing by both there and in the transporter rooms. Also I have cleared surrounding sections ensuring clear and safe passage to the sickbay and deck 8. If we are going to do this we should get started Captain." Said Hunt.

Isabel nodded, "We'll see what we can do." She turned to Hunt, "Commander, go down to Sickbay and see about getting those inoculation shots for Captain Lange; when you have them, get them transported over right away and further coordinate the evacuation on our end. I'll go see about the forcefield generators."

Mason was feeling more apprehensive than the norm. He was hopeful that they could get everyone off the Sentinel before the Borg overran it.

Turning back to the view screen, Isabel said, "Captain, we'll work on that now and transport them over as soon as we have them. Let's do what we can to keep this link open; keep us appraised of the situation there so we can take care of any emergency transports as necessary."

<USS Sentinel>

"Absolutely," Lange replied. "We'll let you know of any developments here and I'll start getting people to our transporter rooms immediately. You might want to either open very small gaps in your shields for transport or engage a transport inhibitor field around exposed areas of the Malinche. The Borg managed to get to the Sentinel, we don't want to take any chances."

Kilana looked away, she partly felt responsible for allowing Borg to get on the Sentinel in the first place. If she'd been here, she would've made sure all precautions had been taken. Maybe then the ship wouldn't be mostly assimilated.

<USS Malinche>

Mason nodded by punching in commands to his console, "The computer has been set to drop shields in beam in areas and go back up one the transports are complete. Security teams are standing by in the most critical areas of the ship and the areas with shielding being dropped. Captain Lange be advised that the transports will be timed as to the interval we are not sure the computer has determined each cycle. I am sending you the secure link to monitor the time frames." Said Mason.

<USS Sentinel>

Lange nodded and turned to Kilana. "Kilana, start rounding up all the Science, Operations, and Flight Control personnel. Get them to the transporter rooms and have our platforms tied into the Malinche's controls. And get whomever's left from Engineering off too. We've already lost too many of your people."

"Yes, sir. I actually think most of the Engineers left are still on the Sirion, though," Kilana replied. As far as she knew, only two Engineers remained unassimilated on the Sentinel, and around four were alright on the Sirion - or at least they had been when she left. "I'll supervise the transport and report back to you when it's finished."

"Good. I'll be setting things up for my desperate, crazy plans to save the ship." Lange gave Kilana a small smile then turned and headed for his ready room.

OFF: Looks like the Mali will be much more crowded...

JP brought to you by:

Captain James Lange
Commanding Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673

and

Chief Petty Officer Kilana Nira
CPO, Captain's Yeoman, Acting CEO, Acting XO
USS Sentinel NCC-74673

and

Commander Mason Hunt
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

and

[Akios]

<<USS Sirion Bridge, MD04, 0415>>

More time had passed, with Akios still getting no results in his attempts to penetrate the Borg jamming. A couple of the other engineers had opted to rest in the captain's ready room, with one of the security officers on guard. Akios was tired, but sleep was the last thing he was interested in as long as the Borg were nearby.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had no idea how many different ways he'd tried to defeat the jamming but it seemed hopeless. The pattern analysis algorithms he'd tried weren't turning up anything. He stared at the displays on the communications console that showed the Borg jamming, which looked like nothing but random noise.

On top of which, every once in a while the jamming spiked, which most of the algorithms interpreted as a signal, giving false positive results. The first couple of times had been exciting until he figured out what had happened.

Akios stopped the current test he was running. The spike seemed to be showing up about every half hour, and sure enough, shortly after he stopped the test, the waveform on the display spiked. He started the test again.

Maybe I should change his mind and get some rest, he thought.

He had several more algorithms lined up, ready to go. He just needed to make sure the tests weren't messed up by the signal spike. Since the spike seemed predictable, he should be able to program the test to shut down automatically to avoid it.

He ran a comparison on the communication signal log. All he needed to set up the program was to find out the longest and shortest interval between signal spikes. That would give him a window for when he'd want to shut down the test.

The same number flashed repeatedly on the screen. Crap. He must have set the parameters wrong. It was reading the same interval over and over.

He checked his program and...didn't find an error. He looked at the results again.

The spike was repeating after exactly the same interval, down to the microsecond! The interval was just over thirty two minutes. That was much longer than the sample time he'd been using in his tests. He started repeating the tests he'd already done, after resetting to the longer interval.

After several minutes, the display showed a list of negative results.

"Gaaaahh...why isn't it working?" Akios grumbled. The precise interval between spikes had to mean something. He pulled up the signal log again, and this time used the external sensor log (which showed nothing but nebular interference) to filter out everything but the Borg jamming. Then he ran a comparison.

Once again, a line of repeated values appeared on the screen.

"What the hell?" he muttered, and quickly superimposed two of the filtered waveforms.

They matched. Exactly.

"A repeating signal?!" Akios shouted. "They're using a repeating signal!?" It seemed idiotic, but the evidence showed that although the Borg were using a jamming signal that was impenetrable, but it repeated every thirty two minutes. In theory, all he needed to do was feed an inverted recording of the filtered jamming signal into the signal processor, and he should be able to reach the probe that they'd used as a communications relay.

He ran the program. This display immediately lit up with a confirmation signal from the probe.

"Lt. Breland!" he said excitedly. "I don't know how long it'll last, but I've gotten through the jamming!"

He started downloading the waveform into his modified tricorder. It would be a simple matter to program the same filter into the communications tricorders, but each one would need the program in order to work.

"I haven't tried to contact anyone yet, but I'm able to pick up the relay signal. I can try to contact Malinche, Sentinel, or I can try to enable combadge communications here on Sirion. Anything I do is likely to alert the Borg, though. If they modify their jamming signal, we'll be back to square one."