Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
Moderators: Tournneau, Korath, Kersare
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<<Outpost Beta 12, Day 12, 1445>>
As soon as the craft landed, Sirak (NPC), Derek (PNPC), and Loril (NPC) jumped to their feet and headed for the hatch. Once Derek and Loril took up positions, Sirak hit the release button and waited for the hatch to swing down into a ramp. The Vulcan watched as Derek smoothly rotated to his left and swept the area, Loril doing the same for the right. Sirak's eyes surveyed their surroundings, noting nothing dangerous between the landing pad and the airlock. A smaller tricorder strapped to her wrist also showed no signs of immediate danger. "We're clear, sir."
Korath powered up his phaser rifle. He stood and looked at each of the away team members in turn. "Copy that, Sirak." He moved to the ramp and stood at the top for a moment before turning back to the remainder of the away team. "On my six." he said before leading the others into the airlock.
Elle raised the type-3 phaser she'd fired only thrice before — outside of training simulations, that is — and stepped out, only a few paces behind Korath and the security detail. Just then, for the first time since she'd survived combat while serving aboard the New York, Elle felt... invigorated? Alive. Suddenly she shuddered, hoping the crew of Outpost Beta 12 could still say the same.
Tournneau saw Quinn's expression as she shook slightly. "Easy, Ensign - stay frosty. Hopefully, you'll not need to use that thing today. Just remember, I'll need you to help me analyze the main computer once we get inside." As a combat veteran, Tournneau found that having a specific task helped people keep their focus in a hostile environment.
Elle’s eyes flitted over to Tournneau as she took a deep breath and exhaled, the clear shield of her helmet fogging slightly as she did. She tried to crack a bit of a smile, “Aye, sir.”
As the others came out of the Macchu Pichu, Sirak glanced over at the Bajoran warrant officer, "Revan, stay here and keep an eye on the shuttle. If you see anything out of the ordinary or there are any issues, let us know. We will do the same." The Vulcan gave Loril an encouraging nod, then moved up with the others, taking the rear position.
Korath motioned to Sirak to join him on point as he opened the doors to the main structure. The corridor was dim, some of the lighting panels flickered causing eerie shadows along the walls. The sound of the atmosphere recycler, which would normally be inaudible among the white noise of the outpost, was very much apparent with much of the outpost shut down or inactive. The air was slightly more arid than normal. As the away team rounded a corner, streaks of carbon scoring marked the walls.
Seeing the Klingon Executive Officer motion Sirak ahead, Derek (PNPC) slowed so he could take her place at the back of the away team. This part of the small outpost was mostly quiet, which wasn't entirely unusual. However, the flickering lighting was a bit unnerving. The shadows created by it put him on edge, making it difficult to distinguish where danger might be coming from. His movements remained fluid and sharp, but he could feel the tension in his muscles.
"Tournneau, see if you can get main power back online." The Klingon said. "Lieutenant, what do you make of that?" Korath asked Sirak shining the beacon on his rifle over the carbon scored bulkhead.
Tournneau nodded at the Klingon as he continued scanning. The sensor package in his case was helping to cut through most of the interference. "I'm still not picking anything or anyone up. No indication of toxins in the atmosphere, but I would still advise maintaining quarantine in our EVA suits until we know what's going on here." He continued scanning the perimeter as Sirak moved to examine the scoring. He was perplexed; the tricorder had completed its scans, and he was now able to scroll through a map of the entire facility. Nothing out of the ordinary was showing up on his sensors as he flicked from screen to screen. No lifesigns, no biological readings, nothing except the same low-level signature which the scans still couldn't localize. It seemed to be emanating from everywhere and nowhere.
Sirak moved closer to the bulkhead, examining the patterns of the scoring Korath pointed out. After her initial assessment, the Vulcan stepped back to see the overall pattern and used her light to follow it. She looked between the two members of the command staff as she replied, "The marks appear to be from a high energy discharge from a Federation weapon, but they are not random. I find it implausible that a Federation officer could miss their target this many times and by this margin of error. Additionally, the pattern seems to be specific rather than random. I would have to surmise that they were targeting what is behind the bulkheads instead of an actual enemy...."
Elle stared at the patterns of the carbon-scoring and thought back to her Semiotics classes at the Academy. Was there anything in the marks she recognized? “Behind the bulkheads? Do you mean some kind of... something embedded in the structure? An energy-based life form?” Elle asked finally. “Or do you think they were seeing things?” she continued. "If these patterns aren't random, could they be signs of some sort instead? Maybe something the crew was trying to tell the Federation about — or warn us about?" Elle took a step back to see if seeing as much of the blast marks as she could wound up revealing anything more.
"Perhaps whatever they were firing at is the source of the aberrant signature we detected." Korath suggested. "Perhaps it would be faster if we split into teams. Sirak and Tournneau, you will go to the command section see if you can get main power online and find out what happened here, Ba'el should go with you. Ensign Quinn, Greyman, and I will circle around to the crew quarters and see if any of them she'd any light as to where the crew went. "
"Aye, sir," Elle said, as she gripped her rifle a might tighter. She managed a thin smile to Lt. Commander Tournneau, "I guess you and Ms. Sirak are on your own with the primary computer. Looks like our XO needs my protection." Elle turned to Korath immediately after she realized she'd cracked wise, "Um, I kid... sir." Haha but yikes, she thought to herself. "No problem." This was going to go well... just like the Battle of Qam-Chee on the HoloDeck. "Great," Elle mumbled, "Bad example."
Korath looked at the Ensign with an expression somewhere between slight annoyance and begrudging amusement that the woman would so casually insult a Klingon's honor. Intentional or not; not many had the stones to make jest at a warrior's expense and expect to live to tell the tale. The XO merely let out a somewhat forced throaty growl at the comment.
Tournneau nodded at Sirak and Ba'el. "Well, I'll be counting on you, now that we don't have Ms. Quinn's...prodigious skill at my disposal." The Lt. Cdr. turned and winked at Korath.
Derek raised an eyebrow at the young flight officer's awkwardness, but decided to not comment on it further. He turned to the Executive Officer and asked, "Did you want to lead the way, sir, or would you like me to?"
"I WILL...." the Klingon stopped and cleared his throat. "I will take point, I would like you to watch our six Mr. Greyman. Ensign Quinn Take position in the middle." He didn't know if the crew were still aboard. Or if there was anything hostile nearby, but given the evidence thus far he wasn't willing to take any chances with the away teams.
Tapping the small tricorder on her wrist, Sirak brought up the map of the listening post. She glanced over it until she found the command section. "Here it is," the Vulcan said, angling her wrist so her companions could see the map as well.
Tournneau pointed to Sirak. "Sirak, you take point, I'll take up the rear. Ba'el, take this," he said as he handed the young officer his tricorder and sensor kit, "and continue scanning. Look for anything that pops up along the way." He pulled the rifle off his back and powered it up.
The Vulcan nodded, raising her eyebrow. "Very well, sir, I will lead the way. Commander Korath, we will let you know of any significant findings and update you. Did you want to set a rendezvous time and place, or wait to see what we find?"
"Understood Lieutenant," he said as he did the same on his own tricorder, his map indicating the habitat section. "Let's rendezvous in sickbay in 40 minutes. Until we know what happened here, assume hostile intent. If you find anything hostile... Do not engage. Report, and await further orders. Keep an open comm with the other team and the ship at all times," Korath said giving out the last few orders before the teams would spit off to their respective targets.
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Ensign Saoirse Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer & Second Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also PNPC Ensign Ba'el
and
PNPC Lieutenant Derek Greyman
NPC Lieutenant Sirak
NPC Warrant Officer Second Class Reval Loril
played by:
<<Outpost Beta 12, Day 12, 1445>>
As soon as the craft landed, Sirak (NPC), Derek (PNPC), and Loril (NPC) jumped to their feet and headed for the hatch. Once Derek and Loril took up positions, Sirak hit the release button and waited for the hatch to swing down into a ramp. The Vulcan watched as Derek smoothly rotated to his left and swept the area, Loril doing the same for the right. Sirak's eyes surveyed their surroundings, noting nothing dangerous between the landing pad and the airlock. A smaller tricorder strapped to her wrist also showed no signs of immediate danger. "We're clear, sir."
Korath powered up his phaser rifle. He stood and looked at each of the away team members in turn. "Copy that, Sirak." He moved to the ramp and stood at the top for a moment before turning back to the remainder of the away team. "On my six." he said before leading the others into the airlock.
Elle raised the type-3 phaser she'd fired only thrice before — outside of training simulations, that is — and stepped out, only a few paces behind Korath and the security detail. Just then, for the first time since she'd survived combat while serving aboard the New York, Elle felt... invigorated? Alive. Suddenly she shuddered, hoping the crew of Outpost Beta 12 could still say the same.
Tournneau saw Quinn's expression as she shook slightly. "Easy, Ensign - stay frosty. Hopefully, you'll not need to use that thing today. Just remember, I'll need you to help me analyze the main computer once we get inside." As a combat veteran, Tournneau found that having a specific task helped people keep their focus in a hostile environment.
Elle’s eyes flitted over to Tournneau as she took a deep breath and exhaled, the clear shield of her helmet fogging slightly as she did. She tried to crack a bit of a smile, “Aye, sir.”
As the others came out of the Macchu Pichu, Sirak glanced over at the Bajoran warrant officer, "Revan, stay here and keep an eye on the shuttle. If you see anything out of the ordinary or there are any issues, let us know. We will do the same." The Vulcan gave Loril an encouraging nod, then moved up with the others, taking the rear position.
Korath motioned to Sirak to join him on point as he opened the doors to the main structure. The corridor was dim, some of the lighting panels flickered causing eerie shadows along the walls. The sound of the atmosphere recycler, which would normally be inaudible among the white noise of the outpost, was very much apparent with much of the outpost shut down or inactive. The air was slightly more arid than normal. As the away team rounded a corner, streaks of carbon scoring marked the walls.
Seeing the Klingon Executive Officer motion Sirak ahead, Derek (PNPC) slowed so he could take her place at the back of the away team. This part of the small outpost was mostly quiet, which wasn't entirely unusual. However, the flickering lighting was a bit unnerving. The shadows created by it put him on edge, making it difficult to distinguish where danger might be coming from. His movements remained fluid and sharp, but he could feel the tension in his muscles.
"Tournneau, see if you can get main power back online." The Klingon said. "Lieutenant, what do you make of that?" Korath asked Sirak shining the beacon on his rifle over the carbon scored bulkhead.
Tournneau nodded at the Klingon as he continued scanning. The sensor package in his case was helping to cut through most of the interference. "I'm still not picking anything or anyone up. No indication of toxins in the atmosphere, but I would still advise maintaining quarantine in our EVA suits until we know what's going on here." He continued scanning the perimeter as Sirak moved to examine the scoring. He was perplexed; the tricorder had completed its scans, and he was now able to scroll through a map of the entire facility. Nothing out of the ordinary was showing up on his sensors as he flicked from screen to screen. No lifesigns, no biological readings, nothing except the same low-level signature which the scans still couldn't localize. It seemed to be emanating from everywhere and nowhere.
Sirak moved closer to the bulkhead, examining the patterns of the scoring Korath pointed out. After her initial assessment, the Vulcan stepped back to see the overall pattern and used her light to follow it. She looked between the two members of the command staff as she replied, "The marks appear to be from a high energy discharge from a Federation weapon, but they are not random. I find it implausible that a Federation officer could miss their target this many times and by this margin of error. Additionally, the pattern seems to be specific rather than random. I would have to surmise that they were targeting what is behind the bulkheads instead of an actual enemy...."
Elle stared at the patterns of the carbon-scoring and thought back to her Semiotics classes at the Academy. Was there anything in the marks she recognized? “Behind the bulkheads? Do you mean some kind of... something embedded in the structure? An energy-based life form?” Elle asked finally. “Or do you think they were seeing things?” she continued. "If these patterns aren't random, could they be signs of some sort instead? Maybe something the crew was trying to tell the Federation about — or warn us about?" Elle took a step back to see if seeing as much of the blast marks as she could wound up revealing anything more.
"Perhaps whatever they were firing at is the source of the aberrant signature we detected." Korath suggested. "Perhaps it would be faster if we split into teams. Sirak and Tournneau, you will go to the command section see if you can get main power online and find out what happened here, Ba'el should go with you. Ensign Quinn, Greyman, and I will circle around to the crew quarters and see if any of them she'd any light as to where the crew went. "
"Aye, sir," Elle said, as she gripped her rifle a might tighter. She managed a thin smile to Lt. Commander Tournneau, "I guess you and Ms. Sirak are on your own with the primary computer. Looks like our XO needs my protection." Elle turned to Korath immediately after she realized she'd cracked wise, "Um, I kid... sir." Haha but yikes, she thought to herself. "No problem." This was going to go well... just like the Battle of Qam-Chee on the HoloDeck. "Great," Elle mumbled, "Bad example."
Korath looked at the Ensign with an expression somewhere between slight annoyance and begrudging amusement that the woman would so casually insult a Klingon's honor. Intentional or not; not many had the stones to make jest at a warrior's expense and expect to live to tell the tale. The XO merely let out a somewhat forced throaty growl at the comment.
Tournneau nodded at Sirak and Ba'el. "Well, I'll be counting on you, now that we don't have Ms. Quinn's...prodigious skill at my disposal." The Lt. Cdr. turned and winked at Korath.
Derek raised an eyebrow at the young flight officer's awkwardness, but decided to not comment on it further. He turned to the Executive Officer and asked, "Did you want to lead the way, sir, or would you like me to?"
"I WILL...." the Klingon stopped and cleared his throat. "I will take point, I would like you to watch our six Mr. Greyman. Ensign Quinn Take position in the middle." He didn't know if the crew were still aboard. Or if there was anything hostile nearby, but given the evidence thus far he wasn't willing to take any chances with the away teams.
Tapping the small tricorder on her wrist, Sirak brought up the map of the listening post. She glanced over it until she found the command section. "Here it is," the Vulcan said, angling her wrist so her companions could see the map as well.
Tournneau pointed to Sirak. "Sirak, you take point, I'll take up the rear. Ba'el, take this," he said as he handed the young officer his tricorder and sensor kit, "and continue scanning. Look for anything that pops up along the way." He pulled the rifle off his back and powered it up.
The Vulcan nodded, raising her eyebrow. "Very well, sir, I will lead the way. Commander Korath, we will let you know of any significant findings and update you. Did you want to set a rendezvous time and place, or wait to see what we find?"
"Understood Lieutenant," he said as he did the same on his own tricorder, his map indicating the habitat section. "Let's rendezvous in sickbay in 40 minutes. Until we know what happened here, assume hostile intent. If you find anything hostile... Do not engage. Report, and await further orders. Keep an open comm with the other team and the ship at all times," Korath said giving out the last few orders before the teams would spit off to their respective targets.
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Ensign Saoirse Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer & Second Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also PNPC Ensign Ba'el
and
PNPC Lieutenant Derek Greyman
NPC Lieutenant Sirak
NPC Warrant Officer Second Class Reval Loril
played by:
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/images/rcapt.jpg)
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<<Outpost Beta 12, Day 12, 1515>>
Korath led the small team down a series of corridors on the short walk from the airlock to the habitat section. The dry and warm air continued to register on his tricorder. Korath pointed his torch beacon at the walls. More phaser marks, he noted. Eventually they came to section 3, crew quarters. The Klingon stopped and motioned for the others to as well. "We each take a room, clear it and search for any sign of the missing crew. Try and determine what the crew were up to prior to the loss of contact." He stepped toward the Vulcan's quarters and pressed the door panel. The door opened with ease as the Klingon stepped inside, leaving the other two to select their own door.
"Aye Commander," Derek (PNPC) replied as he glanced between the remaining rooms. Choosing one of the two remaining occupied quarters, he pressed the door button with his phaser rifle ready...you could never be too careful. At first glance, there wasn't anything remarkable about Lieutenant Daniel Owens' (NPC) room. A bed, desk, table, nightstand, bookshelf, and a couple chairs were the only furniture. No plants, no pictures. A few small weapons were on display as well as two poker trophies. Unimpressed, Derek moved to the desk to see if there were any relevant personal or professional logs...
As Korath expected, the Vulcan's quarters were immaculate and the model of function. What few pieces of decoration there were, appeared more like an aid to meditation rather than a need to establish a sense of identity. It vaguely reminded him of the monastery on Borath. A single bowl of Plomek soup sat, on a dining table. Whatever happened happened relatively fast. The soup did not appear to have been touched.
What was touching, however, was what Elle found in Lieutenant Mira Branei's (NPC) quarters. And it wasn't the presence of obvious sentiment or even subdued but sentimental signs signaled by the Betazoid's personal effects — rather, it was the lack thereof. Although it appeared counter-intuitive at first, Elle was touched by how... academic everything was, and how fastidiously Branei approached her assignment to the outpost. As an obsessive-compulsive, Elle empathized — and admired the discipline on display here.
Although Elle did not know any Betazoids personally, she knew the stereotypes, for lack of a better word, and had read about "the Phase." Yet Branei's quarters seemed rather purposefully free of emotion — especially strange for an empath. Not only was everything in its place, but certain things were very specifically in their place. The PADD set down upon Branei's desk — at a right angle, no less — still displayed Starfleet protocols on reportage and documentation. And though Elle felt intrusive inspecting personal logs, in her review she did notice that any mention of Lieutenant Owens was especially dry. Stiff.
It became readily apparent to Elle, that this Lieutenant Branei had taken great pains to keep any signs of effusive emotion out of her professional persona. Was it the Vulcan's influence? Perhaps. Just then, what Elle perceived at first as signs of pure self-control took a turn in her mind. Was Branei hiding something?
Derek frowned as he read through Dan's logs. It could be nothing or it could be important... "Sir, I may have found something," he called out. Waiting for the others to appear, he continued scrolling through, reading the latest entry. A worried expression crossed his face and he broke out in a cold sweat as a chill ran down his spine at what he found.
Hearing Greyman call out, Elle raised her rifle reflexively and swept around. Thankfully, there were no obvious or immediate threats... that she could see. "Lieutenant Branei's quarters are clear," Elle herself shouted aloud, as she made her way over to the other room... before adding softly under her breath, "I think."
Korath slung the rifle around his shoulder and activated the terminal on the desk. "Computer, scan for any logs made prior to this stations break in contact to Starfleet. Display chronologically. [Working, logs found. Displaying on terminal. Additional, audio logs are available.] The First Officer was about to reply when he stopped at Derek's voice. Taking one more look at the list of logs available, he turned to exit the Vulcan's quarters. Making his way across the hall to see what Derek found, Korath took in the state of the room. Eerily similar to the one he left. Despite the lack of crew it appeared as if the quarters were simply exited for the man's shift that morning. What happened he wondered. "What did you find?" Korath asked.
"Right here, sir, in Lieutenant Owens' duty logs," Derek said as he pointed to the screen. "Apparently they found some kind of debris and brought it aboard. It seems they had it in a containment field, but that wasn't enough. They started experiencing issues with their systems...I've not gotten to the end of the logs yet, but they were trying to figure out what it was."
"So they brought something aboard and then started to experience malfunctions? That does not sound like coincidence," Korath said as he skimmed through the log as well as he stood over Greyman's shoulder. It didn't take long to determine what the log was describing. He had been having an uneasy feeling ever since this mission started. He now knew why. "Look here. It appears the debris had some residual nano probes attached to it. Dormant from what the crew thought. They somehow reactivated and began to assimilate the station. Now I recognize that strange energy pattern we have been detecting. Our sensors were detecting the residual nano probes on the station. The phaser burns - they must have been trying to stop the spread."
Elle felt chills down her spine — a sensation heightened by her paranoia that nanoprobes were somehow responsible for the sudden feeling. Elle had never encountered a Borg... in person. Could she even say "in person" still, or "in the flesh?" She knew only what she'd learned about them in Academy simulations and study. And in the odd comments her father had once made when asked about Borg Cubes. Her father claimed that they had even inspired some of his shuttlecraft designs. He admired the Cube's decentralization and how its system allocation allowed the Borg to survive a strike that would have crippled almost any other ship. Her father went so far as to say that Borg Cubes were "alive" in certain ways. And that thought sent another shiver down Elle's spine. Would he have considered the Outpost alive as well, as it disposed of its crew, enacting the will of a collective? Elle exhaled sharply, fogging the glass of her helmet again.
Derek's face hardened as he listened to Korath and continued reading the log himself. The whole situation made him extremely uncomfortable. After he had been rescued from the Collective, the Malinche hadn't really run into any Borg, but he had known it was still a possibility. It was a day he had dreaded and now it was here... "If the nanoprobes reactivated, they would have started taking over the station... With the crew trying to stop them, they probably adapted and changed their strategy to eliminate the threat. Most likely whatever the nanoprobes did with the computer system resulted in the crew's deaths - they could have opened airlocks, taken life support offline, or any number of things..."
"Korath to all away team members; we have identified active Borg technology aboard the facility. Proceed with caution. Team 2 hold position we are coming to you."
OFF:
JP brought to you by:
Ensign Saoirse Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
PNPC Lieutenant Derek Greyman
played by:
<<Outpost Beta 12, Day 12, 1515>>
Korath led the small team down a series of corridors on the short walk from the airlock to the habitat section. The dry and warm air continued to register on his tricorder. Korath pointed his torch beacon at the walls. More phaser marks, he noted. Eventually they came to section 3, crew quarters. The Klingon stopped and motioned for the others to as well. "We each take a room, clear it and search for any sign of the missing crew. Try and determine what the crew were up to prior to the loss of contact." He stepped toward the Vulcan's quarters and pressed the door panel. The door opened with ease as the Klingon stepped inside, leaving the other two to select their own door.
"Aye Commander," Derek (PNPC) replied as he glanced between the remaining rooms. Choosing one of the two remaining occupied quarters, he pressed the door button with his phaser rifle ready...you could never be too careful. At first glance, there wasn't anything remarkable about Lieutenant Daniel Owens' (NPC) room. A bed, desk, table, nightstand, bookshelf, and a couple chairs were the only furniture. No plants, no pictures. A few small weapons were on display as well as two poker trophies. Unimpressed, Derek moved to the desk to see if there were any relevant personal or professional logs...
As Korath expected, the Vulcan's quarters were immaculate and the model of function. What few pieces of decoration there were, appeared more like an aid to meditation rather than a need to establish a sense of identity. It vaguely reminded him of the monastery on Borath. A single bowl of Plomek soup sat, on a dining table. Whatever happened happened relatively fast. The soup did not appear to have been touched.
What was touching, however, was what Elle found in Lieutenant Mira Branei's (NPC) quarters. And it wasn't the presence of obvious sentiment or even subdued but sentimental signs signaled by the Betazoid's personal effects — rather, it was the lack thereof. Although it appeared counter-intuitive at first, Elle was touched by how... academic everything was, and how fastidiously Branei approached her assignment to the outpost. As an obsessive-compulsive, Elle empathized — and admired the discipline on display here.
Although Elle did not know any Betazoids personally, she knew the stereotypes, for lack of a better word, and had read about "the Phase." Yet Branei's quarters seemed rather purposefully free of emotion — especially strange for an empath. Not only was everything in its place, but certain things were very specifically in their place. The PADD set down upon Branei's desk — at a right angle, no less — still displayed Starfleet protocols on reportage and documentation. And though Elle felt intrusive inspecting personal logs, in her review she did notice that any mention of Lieutenant Owens was especially dry. Stiff.
It became readily apparent to Elle, that this Lieutenant Branei had taken great pains to keep any signs of effusive emotion out of her professional persona. Was it the Vulcan's influence? Perhaps. Just then, what Elle perceived at first as signs of pure self-control took a turn in her mind. Was Branei hiding something?
Derek frowned as he read through Dan's logs. It could be nothing or it could be important... "Sir, I may have found something," he called out. Waiting for the others to appear, he continued scrolling through, reading the latest entry. A worried expression crossed his face and he broke out in a cold sweat as a chill ran down his spine at what he found.
Hearing Greyman call out, Elle raised her rifle reflexively and swept around. Thankfully, there were no obvious or immediate threats... that she could see. "Lieutenant Branei's quarters are clear," Elle herself shouted aloud, as she made her way over to the other room... before adding softly under her breath, "I think."
Korath slung the rifle around his shoulder and activated the terminal on the desk. "Computer, scan for any logs made prior to this stations break in contact to Starfleet. Display chronologically. [Working, logs found. Displaying on terminal. Additional, audio logs are available.] The First Officer was about to reply when he stopped at Derek's voice. Taking one more look at the list of logs available, he turned to exit the Vulcan's quarters. Making his way across the hall to see what Derek found, Korath took in the state of the room. Eerily similar to the one he left. Despite the lack of crew it appeared as if the quarters were simply exited for the man's shift that morning. What happened he wondered. "What did you find?" Korath asked.
"Right here, sir, in Lieutenant Owens' duty logs," Derek said as he pointed to the screen. "Apparently they found some kind of debris and brought it aboard. It seems they had it in a containment field, but that wasn't enough. They started experiencing issues with their systems...I've not gotten to the end of the logs yet, but they were trying to figure out what it was."
"So they brought something aboard and then started to experience malfunctions? That does not sound like coincidence," Korath said as he skimmed through the log as well as he stood over Greyman's shoulder. It didn't take long to determine what the log was describing. He had been having an uneasy feeling ever since this mission started. He now knew why. "Look here. It appears the debris had some residual nano probes attached to it. Dormant from what the crew thought. They somehow reactivated and began to assimilate the station. Now I recognize that strange energy pattern we have been detecting. Our sensors were detecting the residual nano probes on the station. The phaser burns - they must have been trying to stop the spread."
Elle felt chills down her spine — a sensation heightened by her paranoia that nanoprobes were somehow responsible for the sudden feeling. Elle had never encountered a Borg... in person. Could she even say "in person" still, or "in the flesh?" She knew only what she'd learned about them in Academy simulations and study. And in the odd comments her father had once made when asked about Borg Cubes. Her father claimed that they had even inspired some of his shuttlecraft designs. He admired the Cube's decentralization and how its system allocation allowed the Borg to survive a strike that would have crippled almost any other ship. Her father went so far as to say that Borg Cubes were "alive" in certain ways. And that thought sent another shiver down Elle's spine. Would he have considered the Outpost alive as well, as it disposed of its crew, enacting the will of a collective? Elle exhaled sharply, fogging the glass of her helmet again.
Derek's face hardened as he listened to Korath and continued reading the log himself. The whole situation made him extremely uncomfortable. After he had been rescued from the Collective, the Malinche hadn't really run into any Borg, but he had known it was still a possibility. It was a day he had dreaded and now it was here... "If the nanoprobes reactivated, they would have started taking over the station... With the crew trying to stop them, they probably adapted and changed their strategy to eliminate the threat. Most likely whatever the nanoprobes did with the computer system resulted in the crew's deaths - they could have opened airlocks, taken life support offline, or any number of things..."
"Korath to all away team members; we have identified active Borg technology aboard the facility. Proceed with caution. Team 2 hold position we are coming to you."
OFF:
JP brought to you by:
Ensign Saoirse Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
PNPC Lieutenant Derek Greyman
played by:
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/images/rcapt.jpg)
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<<Outpost Beta 12, near Command section, Day 12, 1520>>
Sirak (NPC) moved cautiously through the eerily quiet corridor as she led the Chief Engineer's team to the command section of the outpost. Her dark eyes searched the area in front of her before she moved forward. Based on the layout, the command section would be around the next corner. With her back to the bulkhead, the Vulcan swiveled and looked over her left shoulder - the corridor was empty leading up to the doors to the command section. "All clear, sir," she reported as she nodded to Derek and smoothly moved around the corner.
The half Klingon took a position near the rear, stowing the Tricorder and sensor package at her waist. The emptiness of the station made her feel uneasy. She had always performed well in the academy drills. This however was far from the drills the academy had cadets practice. She checked the charge and setting on her rifle for the eighth time since they landed, trying to focus her mind on something else.
Tournneau continued to follow the other two officers closely, walking backwards as he methodically swept the corridor with his rifle muzzle. "Computer, display telemetry from my tricorder." The widgets being projected on his helmet's transparent aluminum switched from displaying his suit's vital statistics to an overview of of the facility, with sensor data being updated by the tricorder that Ba'el (PNPC) was holding. He could see his team's lifesigns working through the corridor, as well as those of the other team in the living quarters.
Reaching the door, Sirak readied her phaser rifle, pausing for the doors to swish open. They didn't. She frowned and turned towards the team, "It would seem that either power to the doors is offline or perhaps an override is in place..." Neither option was particularly promising. It was possible that either the outpost crew or an invading force had been trapped inside.
Seeing the doors were not opening, Ba'el slung her weapon behind her back and keyed in a series of inquiries on the LCARS terminal, while running a parallel diagnostic with her Tricorder. "Main power is offline. the locks won't disengage," she reported as she promptly pulled off the access panel to the manual override and pulled the leaver. The doors made a muffled clunking noise as they released slightly. She wedged her arm in between the doors and started to push them apart. The awkward positioning however made it difficult. "Sir, mind giving me a hand?" She asked looking toward Tourrnneau.
Derek slung his rifle on his back. "Lieutenant, cover the door." Sirak moved behind and to the side of Ba'el, weapon aimed at the crack in between the doors. Tournneau grappled the door opposite Ba'el. "Okay Ensign: one, two, three - hrrnngh," he grunted as the doors resisted the two officers. The doors groaned in protest as they came slowly apart. After they were separated by a few centimeters, the mechanism gave way and the door hissed open smoothly.
As soon as the doors opened, Sirak's eyes swept the room, looking for any potential danger. The Vulcan moved into the room slowly and frowned as she moved around a console. She knelt down next to a woman's body and checked her pulse before checking the other. "No immediate danger, Commander...but we have bodies. Two of them. I do not see the third crewmember here."
Tournneau joined Sirak next to the two bodies. The two crewmembers had obviously been dead for quite some time - they had not died in the vacuum of space where a lack of oxygen and low temperature would have kept their remains preserved; the life support system had been fully functional the whole time. Their faces were barely recognizable. Ironically, we would probably have known they were dead as soon as we entered the facility if we didn't have these suits on. He shook his head grimly. It had been many years since he'd seen a dead man in uniform. Even though he didn't know them personally, they were still linked in some way, bound by their common beliefs and values, sworn to the same oaths. He began to feel himself become indignantly angry at the fate that befell these members of Starfleet.
Derek turned to Sirak. "Lieutenant, scan them more thoroughly and see if you can make a preliminary determination as to the cause of death and make a DNA identification. We owe them that much."
"Of course, sir," Sirak replied. Pulling her regular tricorder from where it was clipped at her side, she made a few adjustments before scanning the bodies one at a time. She looked more closely at the bodies; there was no outward appearance of trauma - no phaser or electrical burns, no cuts. Taking a deep breath, the Vulcan carefully moved closer to the woman to check her neck for a break. Nothing.
He turned to the ensign. "Ba'el, you take the Science station, I'll take the Engineering station - let's see if we can get the main computer back up and get some answers that way."
Tournneau removed a power cell from his satchel and placed it on the Engineering console. It whirred softly and came to life, running through its diagnostics before displaying a status screen.
[System Interrupt]
Main Bus Datalink [OFFLINE]
Main Power [OFFLINE]
ODN Pathways [OFFLINE]
Secondary Power [ONLINE]
Life Support [ONLINE]
Security Protocols [DISABLED]
Please contact a network administrator for assistance.
He frowned and started keying through several subsystems looking for ways to reconnect the computer bus and the ODN network. Every turn in the system seemed to present a new obstacle, or a broken pathway. After several minutes of this, Tournneau grew frustrated. "Anything on your end, Ensign?"
Ba'el shook her head. "It's like the system has been taken apart piece by piece. I almost had a connection through the replicator sub systems, but the system freezes up any time I try to access the central core. I ran a diagnostic and the system insists the local sub processor isn't available."
"I think that the physical connections have been severed somewhere - we're going to have to retrieve the data core from the main computer itself. Should be down in the habitat area. We should regroup with the other team anyway."
Ba'el nodded. "I agree. Pulling the data core is probably easier at this point than the work needed to repair the system enough for basic access."
As the others on her away team spoke, Sirak listened to the conversation while she waited for the results. Her tricorder beeped. After reading through the results, she stood back up and joined the others. "Readings indicate that these two were suffocated, Commander. There is no evidence of manual strangulation, so it would seem that they did not have oxygen; someone may have shut off the oxygen to this room temporarily to kill them, then turned it back on."
Tournneau frowned. "I hope that's not the case, but I seriously doubt that it was accidental." He looked up at the other two officers. "I don't like it. The environmental control system is low-tech and idiot-proof for a reason - it's supposed to be the last thing to fail, not the first."
Having just run a local diagnostic as Sirak made her observation, the half Klingon shook her head. "As far as I can tell with the main computer offline, Environmental looks solid. There is no way it could just fail like that. Even if it had, the amount of back up systems that would have to fail at the same time for anyone to suffocate like that... well the odds are through the roof."
"Korath to all away team members; we have identified active Borg technology aboard the facility. Proceed with caution. Team 2 hold position we are coming to you."
Tournneau's pulse quickened. He had faced down the Jem'Hadar, the Cardassians, and the Breen, but he'd never come toe-to-toe with the Borg before. The scourge of the goddamn galaxy. "Tournneau here, Commander. I suggest that we rendezvous in the data core near your location - we cannot restore the command pathways. We need to try and retrieve the core manually. Also - we've found two of the crew members, Lieutenant Mira Branei and Commander Sovuk. They've been long dead - appears to be oxygen deprivation, even though life support is currently functional. No signs of trauma or strangulation. I also suggest that we set our rifles to randomly rotate frequencies, for what good it may do if we encounter something."
"Understood Commander. We will rendezvous at the data core. Make the Phaser modifications." Korath replied. He paused momentarily to make the adjustments to his rifle and sidearm. "Korath to bridge, have you been monitoring Captain?"
<Bridge>
Isabel sat in the command chair, a frown on her face as she listened. "Yes, Commander, the away team has been coming in loud and clear. We've been monitoring the situation. Two dead crewmembers found thus far, one still missing though presumably dead. And, of course, evidence of Borg activity... Any sign of drones?" The situation was more troubling than she had originally thought it might be. It would have been bad enough to find the crew dead, but the Borg?
<Outpost Beta 12>
"We haven't seen any sign of drone activity so far. It is clear that the crew was trying to defend the station from what I assume would have been nano probes attempting to assimilate critical systems. We found evidence that the crew may have been attempting to slow the assimilation process by crippling major systems. I recommend that Malinche go to Yellow alert and have the shuttle bay prepared for a possible combat landing."
<Bridge>
"Be careful, Commander. There's still a chance there could be drones aboard; even if there aren't, those crewmembers were killed somehow and if the nanoprobes comprised the station's systems, you could be in danger as well," Isabel replied. "If at all possible and you don't feel it will unduly endanger the away team, I'd like you to find the last crewmember, find the debris they brought aboard, and collect any logs or vital information. If we could find a way to eliminate or somehow remove the nanoprobes that have infiltrated the system, that would be helpful as well. If you have some data you can send over, I could have a team here try to assist in finding a way to do so. Good luck..."
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer & Second Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Ensign Ba'el (PNPC) played by:
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
NPC Lieutenant Sirak
played by:
<<Outpost Beta 12, near Command section, Day 12, 1520>>
Sirak (NPC) moved cautiously through the eerily quiet corridor as she led the Chief Engineer's team to the command section of the outpost. Her dark eyes searched the area in front of her before she moved forward. Based on the layout, the command section would be around the next corner. With her back to the bulkhead, the Vulcan swiveled and looked over her left shoulder - the corridor was empty leading up to the doors to the command section. "All clear, sir," she reported as she nodded to Derek and smoothly moved around the corner.
The half Klingon took a position near the rear, stowing the Tricorder and sensor package at her waist. The emptiness of the station made her feel uneasy. She had always performed well in the academy drills. This however was far from the drills the academy had cadets practice. She checked the charge and setting on her rifle for the eighth time since they landed, trying to focus her mind on something else.
Tournneau continued to follow the other two officers closely, walking backwards as he methodically swept the corridor with his rifle muzzle. "Computer, display telemetry from my tricorder." The widgets being projected on his helmet's transparent aluminum switched from displaying his suit's vital statistics to an overview of of the facility, with sensor data being updated by the tricorder that Ba'el (PNPC) was holding. He could see his team's lifesigns working through the corridor, as well as those of the other team in the living quarters.
Reaching the door, Sirak readied her phaser rifle, pausing for the doors to swish open. They didn't. She frowned and turned towards the team, "It would seem that either power to the doors is offline or perhaps an override is in place..." Neither option was particularly promising. It was possible that either the outpost crew or an invading force had been trapped inside.
Seeing the doors were not opening, Ba'el slung her weapon behind her back and keyed in a series of inquiries on the LCARS terminal, while running a parallel diagnostic with her Tricorder. "Main power is offline. the locks won't disengage," she reported as she promptly pulled off the access panel to the manual override and pulled the leaver. The doors made a muffled clunking noise as they released slightly. She wedged her arm in between the doors and started to push them apart. The awkward positioning however made it difficult. "Sir, mind giving me a hand?" She asked looking toward Tourrnneau.
Derek slung his rifle on his back. "Lieutenant, cover the door." Sirak moved behind and to the side of Ba'el, weapon aimed at the crack in between the doors. Tournneau grappled the door opposite Ba'el. "Okay Ensign: one, two, three - hrrnngh," he grunted as the doors resisted the two officers. The doors groaned in protest as they came slowly apart. After they were separated by a few centimeters, the mechanism gave way and the door hissed open smoothly.
As soon as the doors opened, Sirak's eyes swept the room, looking for any potential danger. The Vulcan moved into the room slowly and frowned as she moved around a console. She knelt down next to a woman's body and checked her pulse before checking the other. "No immediate danger, Commander...but we have bodies. Two of them. I do not see the third crewmember here."
Tournneau joined Sirak next to the two bodies. The two crewmembers had obviously been dead for quite some time - they had not died in the vacuum of space where a lack of oxygen and low temperature would have kept their remains preserved; the life support system had been fully functional the whole time. Their faces were barely recognizable. Ironically, we would probably have known they were dead as soon as we entered the facility if we didn't have these suits on. He shook his head grimly. It had been many years since he'd seen a dead man in uniform. Even though he didn't know them personally, they were still linked in some way, bound by their common beliefs and values, sworn to the same oaths. He began to feel himself become indignantly angry at the fate that befell these members of Starfleet.
Derek turned to Sirak. "Lieutenant, scan them more thoroughly and see if you can make a preliminary determination as to the cause of death and make a DNA identification. We owe them that much."
"Of course, sir," Sirak replied. Pulling her regular tricorder from where it was clipped at her side, she made a few adjustments before scanning the bodies one at a time. She looked more closely at the bodies; there was no outward appearance of trauma - no phaser or electrical burns, no cuts. Taking a deep breath, the Vulcan carefully moved closer to the woman to check her neck for a break. Nothing.
He turned to the ensign. "Ba'el, you take the Science station, I'll take the Engineering station - let's see if we can get the main computer back up and get some answers that way."
Tournneau removed a power cell from his satchel and placed it on the Engineering console. It whirred softly and came to life, running through its diagnostics before displaying a status screen.
[System Interrupt]
Main Bus Datalink [OFFLINE]
Main Power [OFFLINE]
ODN Pathways [OFFLINE]
Secondary Power [ONLINE]
Life Support [ONLINE]
Security Protocols [DISABLED]
Please contact a network administrator for assistance.
He frowned and started keying through several subsystems looking for ways to reconnect the computer bus and the ODN network. Every turn in the system seemed to present a new obstacle, or a broken pathway. After several minutes of this, Tournneau grew frustrated. "Anything on your end, Ensign?"
Ba'el shook her head. "It's like the system has been taken apart piece by piece. I almost had a connection through the replicator sub systems, but the system freezes up any time I try to access the central core. I ran a diagnostic and the system insists the local sub processor isn't available."
"I think that the physical connections have been severed somewhere - we're going to have to retrieve the data core from the main computer itself. Should be down in the habitat area. We should regroup with the other team anyway."
Ba'el nodded. "I agree. Pulling the data core is probably easier at this point than the work needed to repair the system enough for basic access."
As the others on her away team spoke, Sirak listened to the conversation while she waited for the results. Her tricorder beeped. After reading through the results, she stood back up and joined the others. "Readings indicate that these two were suffocated, Commander. There is no evidence of manual strangulation, so it would seem that they did not have oxygen; someone may have shut off the oxygen to this room temporarily to kill them, then turned it back on."
Tournneau frowned. "I hope that's not the case, but I seriously doubt that it was accidental." He looked up at the other two officers. "I don't like it. The environmental control system is low-tech and idiot-proof for a reason - it's supposed to be the last thing to fail, not the first."
Having just run a local diagnostic as Sirak made her observation, the half Klingon shook her head. "As far as I can tell with the main computer offline, Environmental looks solid. There is no way it could just fail like that. Even if it had, the amount of back up systems that would have to fail at the same time for anyone to suffocate like that... well the odds are through the roof."
"Korath to all away team members; we have identified active Borg technology aboard the facility. Proceed with caution. Team 2 hold position we are coming to you."
Tournneau's pulse quickened. He had faced down the Jem'Hadar, the Cardassians, and the Breen, but he'd never come toe-to-toe with the Borg before. The scourge of the goddamn galaxy. "Tournneau here, Commander. I suggest that we rendezvous in the data core near your location - we cannot restore the command pathways. We need to try and retrieve the core manually. Also - we've found two of the crew members, Lieutenant Mira Branei and Commander Sovuk. They've been long dead - appears to be oxygen deprivation, even though life support is currently functional. No signs of trauma or strangulation. I also suggest that we set our rifles to randomly rotate frequencies, for what good it may do if we encounter something."
"Understood Commander. We will rendezvous at the data core. Make the Phaser modifications." Korath replied. He paused momentarily to make the adjustments to his rifle and sidearm. "Korath to bridge, have you been monitoring Captain?"
<Bridge>
Isabel sat in the command chair, a frown on her face as she listened. "Yes, Commander, the away team has been coming in loud and clear. We've been monitoring the situation. Two dead crewmembers found thus far, one still missing though presumably dead. And, of course, evidence of Borg activity... Any sign of drones?" The situation was more troubling than she had originally thought it might be. It would have been bad enough to find the crew dead, but the Borg?
<Outpost Beta 12>
"We haven't seen any sign of drone activity so far. It is clear that the crew was trying to defend the station from what I assume would have been nano probes attempting to assimilate critical systems. We found evidence that the crew may have been attempting to slow the assimilation process by crippling major systems. I recommend that Malinche go to Yellow alert and have the shuttle bay prepared for a possible combat landing."
<Bridge>
"Be careful, Commander. There's still a chance there could be drones aboard; even if there aren't, those crewmembers were killed somehow and if the nanoprobes comprised the station's systems, you could be in danger as well," Isabel replied. "If at all possible and you don't feel it will unduly endanger the away team, I'd like you to find the last crewmember, find the debris they brought aboard, and collect any logs or vital information. If we could find a way to eliminate or somehow remove the nanoprobes that have infiltrated the system, that would be helpful as well. If you have some data you can send over, I could have a team here try to assist in finding a way to do so. Good luck..."
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer & Second Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Ensign Ba'el (PNPC) played by:
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
NPC Lieutenant Sirak
played by:
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/images/rcapt.jpg)
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
OFF: This is a BackPost.
ON:
<< The Office of Professor Eleanor Ivy Quinn | Harvard University - Cambridge, Massachusetts | July 9th, 2378 >>
The translation was not the most recent, nor the one regarded by scholars to be the most accurate — but, as Elle's mother had put it, this version was still seen as the most... poetic, however clumsy the verse.
And so, Eleanor read from this text of an extinct people:
"Light and shadow defined as kin, as brothers.
One knew one to know the other.
But when both descended upon our brethren,
with eyes placid but hunger plain,
darkness took hold,
dark as blood spilt from vein — veins of iron now,
iron in form but in taste no longer,
bodies born anew of branches somber — mechanical,
somber as their mantra,
read aloud and dreaded.
Dead allowed no rest — instead reanimated.
Recitation heard, again aloud and dreaded.
To fight was futile, to resist, for naught.
For resistance was a battle lost before 'twas fought.
For resistance too... was futile."
"Now," Eleanor said, "some say Doctor Antrechau took too many liberties with this species' preferred meter and word choice, but given what we know now... what we've now heard firsthand. After Locutus... after Wolf 359, those that claim these recently-discovered records were revised and rife with apocrypha? Those claims are unfounded...."
Eleanor forced a smile. Her lips were thin, spindly as the rest of her body. Her eyes were like a lizard's. Darting always, but incisive too. Her mannered "received pronunciation" smothered her natural Northern British accent, as much as her didactic lessons smothered young Elle. Eleanor never condescended to her daughter. And she would not start now... not for the sake of sparing feelings. "Now, does this have to do with your father telling you about how he... admired their ships? How he was inspired by them?"
Young Elle nodded, but stayed silent. She so sought her father's approval that she would sit and listen to him prattle on about anything. From treatises on starship design, whose intricacies went well over her head, to his litany of unpopular opinions... such as admiration for a monster's home. For a monster's vessel... for the seemingly simple but enviably effective layout of systems at work within.
Elle so needed her father's love that she would sit and listen to him talk about anything... even if it scared her. And for the first time in a long time, young Elle welcomed her mother's embrace.
Eleanor held her daughter in her arms. "They are monsters, Ellie. Your father believes that too. He knows that too. He simply... says the wrong thing sometimes, when matters of starship design and engineering are involved, that's all. Don't be scared. You've already been so brave...."
<< Outpost Beta 12 | Day 12 | 1515 hours >>
"Don't be scared," Elle said to herself, "You've already been so brave." She exhaled sharply, fogging the glass of her helmet again.
"Korath to all away team members; we have identified active Borg technology aboard the facility. Proceed with caution...."
OFF:
Professor Eleanor Ivy Quinn, PhD (PNPC)
Extraplanetary Arts & Anthropology
Harvard University
and
ON:
<< The Office of Professor Eleanor Ivy Quinn | Harvard University - Cambridge, Massachusetts | July 9th, 2378 >>
The translation was not the most recent, nor the one regarded by scholars to be the most accurate — but, as Elle's mother had put it, this version was still seen as the most... poetic, however clumsy the verse.
And so, Eleanor read from this text of an extinct people:
"Light and shadow defined as kin, as brothers.
One knew one to know the other.
But when both descended upon our brethren,
with eyes placid but hunger plain,
darkness took hold,
dark as blood spilt from vein — veins of iron now,
iron in form but in taste no longer,
bodies born anew of branches somber — mechanical,
somber as their mantra,
read aloud and dreaded.
Dead allowed no rest — instead reanimated.
Recitation heard, again aloud and dreaded.
To fight was futile, to resist, for naught.
For resistance was a battle lost before 'twas fought.
For resistance too... was futile."
"Now," Eleanor said, "some say Doctor Antrechau took too many liberties with this species' preferred meter and word choice, but given what we know now... what we've now heard firsthand. After Locutus... after Wolf 359, those that claim these recently-discovered records were revised and rife with apocrypha? Those claims are unfounded...."
Eleanor forced a smile. Her lips were thin, spindly as the rest of her body. Her eyes were like a lizard's. Darting always, but incisive too. Her mannered "received pronunciation" smothered her natural Northern British accent, as much as her didactic lessons smothered young Elle. Eleanor never condescended to her daughter. And she would not start now... not for the sake of sparing feelings. "Now, does this have to do with your father telling you about how he... admired their ships? How he was inspired by them?"
Young Elle nodded, but stayed silent. She so sought her father's approval that she would sit and listen to him prattle on about anything. From treatises on starship design, whose intricacies went well over her head, to his litany of unpopular opinions... such as admiration for a monster's home. For a monster's vessel... for the seemingly simple but enviably effective layout of systems at work within.
Elle so needed her father's love that she would sit and listen to him talk about anything... even if it scared her. And for the first time in a long time, young Elle welcomed her mother's embrace.
Eleanor held her daughter in her arms. "They are monsters, Ellie. Your father believes that too. He knows that too. He simply... says the wrong thing sometimes, when matters of starship design and engineering are involved, that's all. Don't be scared. You've already been so brave...."
<< Outpost Beta 12 | Day 12 | 1515 hours >>
"Don't be scared," Elle said to herself, "You've already been so brave." She exhaled sharply, fogging the glass of her helmet again.
"Korath to all away team members; we have identified active Borg technology aboard the facility. Proceed with caution...."
OFF:
Professor Eleanor Ivy Quinn, PhD (PNPC)
Extraplanetary Arts & Anthropology
Harvard University
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/red/0.png)
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<<USS Malinche, Bridge, Day 12, 1530>>
Isabel continued listening to the away teams. She still had trouble believing that they had actually found evidence of Borg tech, but apparently it was true. Of all the possible causes for the listening post to go silent, this was one she had not expected. At all. Frowning, she could only imagine what her husband was thinking.
Glancing over at Myka (PNPC), she said, "Ms. Turren, I want you to check your Intel information and contacts - see if there are any other reports of Borg tech being found and the circumstances behind it. The sooner, the better. Let me know what you find out."
"Yes ma'am," the Bajoran replied with a nod. Truthfully, she'd been planning to look into it anyway. Starfleet Intelligence would want a report about this incident for their files and she would've needed to cross reference with other reports. "I'll let you know what I find out, Captain."
With a nod, Isabel then turned to Aniela (PNPC), "Ms. Darvetti, work with Ms. Beladd (NPC) and see what you two can come up with about that signal. I'm going to my ready room briefly; you have the bridge." She stood up, noting the curious look on Aniela's face, and headed for her ready room after seeing her Chief Science Officer nod to confirm she understood.
From where she was seated at the Mission Ops console, Myka quietly watched Isabel leave the bridge before turning back to her screen. It seemed a bit odd that she would leave the bridge at a time like this, but surely she had her reasons. Her fingers slid across the screen and she entered in her Starfleet Intelligence code and started a search for any reports of Borg tech being found in the last year. It would take a little while for the system to comb through all the reports for that time, but she wanted to start off with a wider search for now.
In the meantime, Myka considered which of her contacts might have heard rumors about Borg tech. Her best bets were likely either a fellow Intelligence Officer or a contact on a more remote Starbase. There were a few officers whose specialty was the Borg; she could start with them and reach out to more once the computer finished its search. As for a Starbase contact...well, there was that one Ferengi. With a slight smirk, Myka started sending out a few messages to her contacts.
Aniela turned her chair towards Viradia at the station next to hers. "I don't know about you, Lieutenant, but I've not had much luck with this energy signature... Given what we know now, it's presumably some form of Borg energy or interference, but I can't quite pinpoint any specifics. It does appear to be in higher concentrations in certain areas of the outpost though... Any thoughts?"
OFF: Tag to Beladd (Tournneau - could JP if you want or feel free to just run with it and could perhaps work in your convo with Derek from the away team JP)
Lieutenant Commander Aniela Darvetti (PNPC)
Lieutennat Turren Myka (PNPC)
played by: Captain Kersare
and
<<USS Malinche, Bridge, Day 12, 1530>>
Isabel continued listening to the away teams. She still had trouble believing that they had actually found evidence of Borg tech, but apparently it was true. Of all the possible causes for the listening post to go silent, this was one she had not expected. At all. Frowning, she could only imagine what her husband was thinking.
Glancing over at Myka (PNPC), she said, "Ms. Turren, I want you to check your Intel information and contacts - see if there are any other reports of Borg tech being found and the circumstances behind it. The sooner, the better. Let me know what you find out."
"Yes ma'am," the Bajoran replied with a nod. Truthfully, she'd been planning to look into it anyway. Starfleet Intelligence would want a report about this incident for their files and she would've needed to cross reference with other reports. "I'll let you know what I find out, Captain."
With a nod, Isabel then turned to Aniela (PNPC), "Ms. Darvetti, work with Ms. Beladd (NPC) and see what you two can come up with about that signal. I'm going to my ready room briefly; you have the bridge." She stood up, noting the curious look on Aniela's face, and headed for her ready room after seeing her Chief Science Officer nod to confirm she understood.
From where she was seated at the Mission Ops console, Myka quietly watched Isabel leave the bridge before turning back to her screen. It seemed a bit odd that she would leave the bridge at a time like this, but surely she had her reasons. Her fingers slid across the screen and she entered in her Starfleet Intelligence code and started a search for any reports of Borg tech being found in the last year. It would take a little while for the system to comb through all the reports for that time, but she wanted to start off with a wider search for now.
In the meantime, Myka considered which of her contacts might have heard rumors about Borg tech. Her best bets were likely either a fellow Intelligence Officer or a contact on a more remote Starbase. There were a few officers whose specialty was the Borg; she could start with them and reach out to more once the computer finished its search. As for a Starbase contact...well, there was that one Ferengi. With a slight smirk, Myka started sending out a few messages to her contacts.
Aniela turned her chair towards Viradia at the station next to hers. "I don't know about you, Lieutenant, but I've not had much luck with this energy signature... Given what we know now, it's presumably some form of Borg energy or interference, but I can't quite pinpoint any specifics. It does appear to be in higher concentrations in certain areas of the outpost though... Any thoughts?"
OFF: Tag to Beladd (Tournneau - could JP if you want or feel free to just run with it and could perhaps work in your convo with Derek from the away team JP)
Lieutenant Commander Aniela Darvetti (PNPC)
Lieutennat Turren Myka (PNPC)
played by: Captain Kersare
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/images/rcapt.jpg)
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
OFF: This is a BackPost.
ON:
<< Crew Quarters | Outpost Beta 12 | Day 12 | 1516 hours >>
Mira Branei wore her jet black hair up, and tightly braided in an ornate, but professional manner. Her eyes were serious. Dark, deep pools that engaged the viewer — whoever happened to view her ID holo anyway. Although working at Outpost Beta 12 was not most glamorous post, it was an important one nonetheless. The border was sometimes still tensely contested — in practice and in person, if not in formal name or decree. It was clear that Branei took her job seriously, and that was something Elle could very much appreciate.
As she scrolled through Lieutenant Branei's professional and personal logs, she sensed a quality of restraint in them. Ha. Elle laughed to herself. Sensing emotion from a Betazoid. Perhaps Elle was just reading into things too much, or projecting her own wariness into the situation. Her own fatigue at being constantly on guard, worried about saying the wrong thing. Funny, Elle thought to herself, that she didn't worry about taking brash action. Funny in this context too, for it seemed that Lieutenant Branei definitely did. Worry... and perhaps spring into foolhardy action.
Elle could afford only a cursory sweep of the quarters, given the time constraints of their mission. There had been no obvious carbon-scoring on the walls in Branei's quarters, and everything was still arranged so neatly that there appeared to be no evidence at all of foul play. Still, something nagged at her. And then she found it... maybe.
Protocols on standard reporting language and procedure were even still up on screen at Branei's private computer and PADD. Elle was willing to bet they were always up too. Every interaction Branei logged with Lieutenant Daniel Owens used his full name and rank... even off-duty visits, strangely enough. A handful of messages had been sent at odd hours, but each was couched as a professional follow-up. And Elle was immediately suspicious — a suspicion that sprung from personal experience.
Having to work side by side with Douglas Kinkaid despite their clear mutual attraction had made her more furtive and formal in their interactions while others was present. Elle didn't doubt that Lieutenants Branei and Owens were involved, — but surely Branei's personal log would have contained more candor? How could it not? Even knowing this invasion of privacy was possible, would the Betazoid really have gone to such lengths to say as little as possible outside of what Starfleet mandated? Finally it dawned upon her. Branei was trying to protect Owens... but why? Had Owens overstepped his bounds somehow? What had Owens done? And how could it have gone so wrong, that by-the-book Branei was trying so hard to cover up? To help him — protect him perhaps?
"Sir, I may have found something," came the call from the other room. Greyman's voice. It startled Elle slightly, but she was ready with her phaser rifle. She spun, ready to fire... but there was nothing new to worry about — for now.
"Lieutenant Branei's quarters are clear," Elle yelled in answer, before whispering, "I think."
OFF:
ON:
<< Crew Quarters | Outpost Beta 12 | Day 12 | 1516 hours >>
Mira Branei wore her jet black hair up, and tightly braided in an ornate, but professional manner. Her eyes were serious. Dark, deep pools that engaged the viewer — whoever happened to view her ID holo anyway. Although working at Outpost Beta 12 was not most glamorous post, it was an important one nonetheless. The border was sometimes still tensely contested — in practice and in person, if not in formal name or decree. It was clear that Branei took her job seriously, and that was something Elle could very much appreciate.
As she scrolled through Lieutenant Branei's professional and personal logs, she sensed a quality of restraint in them. Ha. Elle laughed to herself. Sensing emotion from a Betazoid. Perhaps Elle was just reading into things too much, or projecting her own wariness into the situation. Her own fatigue at being constantly on guard, worried about saying the wrong thing. Funny, Elle thought to herself, that she didn't worry about taking brash action. Funny in this context too, for it seemed that Lieutenant Branei definitely did. Worry... and perhaps spring into foolhardy action.
Elle could afford only a cursory sweep of the quarters, given the time constraints of their mission. There had been no obvious carbon-scoring on the walls in Branei's quarters, and everything was still arranged so neatly that there appeared to be no evidence at all of foul play. Still, something nagged at her. And then she found it... maybe.
Protocols on standard reporting language and procedure were even still up on screen at Branei's private computer and PADD. Elle was willing to bet they were always up too. Every interaction Branei logged with Lieutenant Daniel Owens used his full name and rank... even off-duty visits, strangely enough. A handful of messages had been sent at odd hours, but each was couched as a professional follow-up. And Elle was immediately suspicious — a suspicion that sprung from personal experience.
Having to work side by side with Douglas Kinkaid despite their clear mutual attraction had made her more furtive and formal in their interactions while others was present. Elle didn't doubt that Lieutenants Branei and Owens were involved, — but surely Branei's personal log would have contained more candor? How could it not? Even knowing this invasion of privacy was possible, would the Betazoid really have gone to such lengths to say as little as possible outside of what Starfleet mandated? Finally it dawned upon her. Branei was trying to protect Owens... but why? Had Owens overstepped his bounds somehow? What had Owens done? And how could it have gone so wrong, that by-the-book Branei was trying so hard to cover up? To help him — protect him perhaps?
"Sir, I may have found something," came the call from the other room. Greyman's voice. It startled Elle slightly, but she was ready with her phaser rifle. She spun, ready to fire... but there was nothing new to worry about — for now.
"Lieutenant Branei's quarters are clear," Elle yelled in answer, before whispering, "I think."
OFF:
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/red/0.png)
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<< Outpost Beta 12: near Command section | Day 12 | 1535 Hours >>
Lt. Cdr. Tournneau looked around at his team members. "Okay, let's get down to the habitat section without getting assimilated or otherwise dead. Everyone, set rifles to rotate frequencies and set power settings to maximum, fine beam. Watch your fire — you can punch straight through the bulkheads at that level. We don't know if there are twenty drones out there or if there's nothing. Call your shots." Derek collected his equipment from the console he was working on as he briefed the team. "The primary objective is the data core — we retrieve it and exfil. I'll take point; Sirak (NPC) you take up the rear. Ba'el (PNPC), keep the tricorder active and cover our flanks."
Listening to Derek, the Vulcan woman nodded as she adjusted the settings on her rifle. The outpost wasn't all that large; Sirak found it likely that there weren't drones here. If there were, they would have assimilated the crew rather than kill them. Still, she agreed that caution was best and took her place at the rear.
Tournneau hefted his rifle and opened the service panel to alter the frequency settings. He shook his head. The type-III rifle was a technological marvel, but it had its drawbacks — the current situation being the most glaring. He'd give almost anything to have a kinetic weapon right about now. He tapped the comms switch on his EVA suit's forearm panel. "Tournneau to Beladd."
<< Bridge | USS Malinche >>
"Beladd (PNPC) here, Commander. What do you need?"
<< Outpost >>
"Lieutenant, keep monitoring the energy signature and have the computer cross-reference the pattern against all known Borg activity in the Federation database. It still hasn't ascertained its function, so it's either something new or something old. I'd like to know what we're dealing with if we can."
<< Bridge >>
Viradia keyed in the query at her station. She raised her hairless brow when she saw the amount of data that returned. "Commander, it's going take the computer some time to process this along with all of the sensor data it's handling right now. I'll do my best to help it along."
<< Outpost >>
"Understood, keep me posted. Tournneau out." He finished making the adjustments to his rifle and resealed the service panel. He turned to his team. "All right, let's move out."
Seeing Derek ready to go, Sirak took a calming breath and followed the others out of the command section. Hopefully they would find their answers at the rendezvous. She tightened her grip slightly on the rifle and kept her eyes moving methodically — glancing behind them every so often as they made their way through the outpost.
<< Outpost Beta 12, Data Core >>
Derek (PNPC) frowned slightly as they waited for the other team to arrive. Their team had been closest and he'd cleared the area around the data core already. There was still no sign of the final crewmember or, thankfully, of anyone else. It was unnerving being placed in this situation and if he let his mind wander too much, he could practically hear the Collective in his mind still. Isabel was probably worried about him.
"Do you think you'd be able to do it?" Elle asked Lieutenant Greyman absent-mindedly, as she checked her rifle settings. "If someone you knew was taken? You know... assimilated?" Elle checked her rifle again. If she remembered the Borg scenario combat simulations correctly, even with phaser frequency modulation engaged, they'd get only a handful of shots in, each. Better to make them count.
Elle eyed the surrounding corridors even more suspiciously now. "Do you think the missing crew member has already become... you know, one of them? I mean, yikes, if so, they might as well be a goner, right?"
"If you do encounter anyone that has been assimilated, you would be doing them a favor." Korath said. "Perhaps a skilled doctor might be able to remove most of the implants but the Nanoprobes would still be in one's blood and many of the internal implants would need frequent maintenance. Not to mention the psychological trauma of watching and experiencing your own assimilation. Survivors often come back... Different."
"Definitely. I heard that even someone as strong-willed as Captain Picard was... you know, never quite the same afterward. I mean, how *can* you be, right? It's like what history books used to say about our grisly, ancient Earthern wars. One night you're in a foxhole forced to strangle your enemy, then the next night you're in bed beside your husband —" Elle shuddered *just* enough for her to brush against Lieutenant Greyman accidentally "— or wife."
"Oh — I..." Realizing too late that she'd said exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time, Elle only then remembered a particularly pertinent element of Lieutenant Greyman's history, which had leapt out at her while she was perusing the service records and bios of her new crewmates before coming aboard. How could have forgotten? "I-I didn't mean anything by it. I can only imagine... how difficult... um." Her shoulders sunk, "I-I'm sorry."
Having remained silent while his teammates spoke, Derek's jaw clenched slightly before he let out a slow breath. He looked at the Klingon and then focused his gaze on the young woman, "You don't need to apologize. There's times where I can almost forget what happened. Almost. My situation is somewhat unique; I was rescued and despite my time with the Collective, the doctors were able to reverse what had been done." Frowning, he hesitated a moment before continuing, "It's taken time and adjustments, but I'm more like my former self at this point. But...if it was a choice between being a drone for all time or dead, being dead would be a mercy."
Elle nodded slowly, in response, and in silence.
Korath returned the look briefly. His expression was stoic and unapologetic. It may not have been his intent to cause the Former borg any discomfort, but in his own experience his words were mirrored by his own father after his Assimilation and subsequent liberation. Of all the enemies he had faced in combat, the Borg were by far the most soulless of them all.
=/\= "Korath, this is Tournneau — we're about to arrive at the data core, so don't shoot us." =/\=
Elle laughed to herself, nervously. With a finger already at the trigger of her rifle, anticipating a horde of Borg drones, she might have gunned Tournneau down on sight as the door slid open. She was glad her eyes were faster than her fear, this time.
The door opened and Tournneau's team made their way inside. "Well, fancy seeing you lot here," Tournneau said to the other group. "Anyone found anything else that might piece this whole awful puzzle together?"
Elle thought about holding her tongue, but was talking before she realized it, as per usual, "Sir. I mean sirs," Elle said, addressing both Tournneau and Korath, "I don't know if it's relevant to the discovery of the Borg tech per se — or if it's even true really, but Branei and Owens were — um, involved. And I think they may have been trying to cover their tracks because of it, to help each other — try to undo a mistake maybe?"
Korath looked to the Ensign. "I am not certain how that affects the current situation; but it is none the less something to consider."
Tournneau raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, sir — if this wasn't just an innocent encounter with the Borg, if it was something that was done purposefully...we have to be careful. The Borg have always had their own inscrutable purposes, but if someone on our side is helping them, or perhaps trying to exploit them — this is starting to sound an awful lot like we're here to clean up some black op gone bad."
Elle pursed her lips. Had they stumbled upon something more sinister?
"Well, let's get what we came for and get out of here." Tournneau moved to the main panel. "Ba'el, help me open this panel and let's extract the core. Gently now, don't want to break anything important."
Ba'el nodded as she carefully began to extract the panel from the bulkhead, exposing the data core behind. Taking the panel from Derek, she placed it neatly next to her leaning from the wall. The two officers set to work removing the console and digging through the ODN pathways.
"Sirak, keep scanning this panel while we're in here and make sure that nothing suspicious is activated."
At the sound of her name, the Vulcan nodded. "Of course, sir." Sirak pulled out her tricorder and tapped through a few menus to start the scan. Everything appeared normal, at least at first. After a few minutes though, a blip appeared. Sirak frowned and watched closely to see if it was an anomaly or if it showed up again.
Eventually, Tournneau found the module he was looking for — the primary data module. After separating it from the main ODN bus, he gently popped it from its circuit and placed it inside the metal octagonal satchel that he had been carrying. "Core retrieved, let's exfil to the shuttle."
Seeing the slight frown on his fellow security officer's face, Derek paused and tensed slightly. Sirak was normally calm and stoic — what you would expect from a Vulcan. The troubled look on her face was out of place and he immediately adjusted his mindset to a defensive one.
"Understood." Korath said nodding toward the exit. "Double time back to the shuttle." The Klingon stepped away from the away team for a moment and tapped his comm badge. "Korath to shuttle bay. I want a full decon protocol for each member of the away team when we land as well as a security detachment to escort precious cargo to the computer lab."
Before the shuttlebay or their fellow security teammate at their own shuttle could respond, Sirak looked up from the analysis she'd run. "It is probable that we have a serious issue at hand. I was reading infrequent blips while Commander Tournneau was accessing the information. Just before and directly after he pulled the module, there was a serious spike in activity. The signature matches what we initially read when we arrived — I believe the Borg nanoprobes detected the intrusion and will now feel the need to act..."
Elle swallowed hard, fighting the knot in her throat. She visualized every nanoprobe embedded in the walls awakening at once. And suddenly, every shadow on the wall appeared to encroach upon them.
"Set phasers to auto rotate frequencies. Make your shots count. We may not get many of them off before the Borg adapt."
OFF:
JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer & Second Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Lieutenant Viradia Beladd (PNPC)
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Ensign Ba'el (PNPC)
and
Lieutenant Derek Greyman (PNPC)
& Lieutenant Sirak (NPC)
played by:
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
<< Outpost Beta 12: near Command section | Day 12 | 1535 Hours >>
Lt. Cdr. Tournneau looked around at his team members. "Okay, let's get down to the habitat section without getting assimilated or otherwise dead. Everyone, set rifles to rotate frequencies and set power settings to maximum, fine beam. Watch your fire — you can punch straight through the bulkheads at that level. We don't know if there are twenty drones out there or if there's nothing. Call your shots." Derek collected his equipment from the console he was working on as he briefed the team. "The primary objective is the data core — we retrieve it and exfil. I'll take point; Sirak (NPC) you take up the rear. Ba'el (PNPC), keep the tricorder active and cover our flanks."
Listening to Derek, the Vulcan woman nodded as she adjusted the settings on her rifle. The outpost wasn't all that large; Sirak found it likely that there weren't drones here. If there were, they would have assimilated the crew rather than kill them. Still, she agreed that caution was best and took her place at the rear.
Tournneau hefted his rifle and opened the service panel to alter the frequency settings. He shook his head. The type-III rifle was a technological marvel, but it had its drawbacks — the current situation being the most glaring. He'd give almost anything to have a kinetic weapon right about now. He tapped the comms switch on his EVA suit's forearm panel. "Tournneau to Beladd."
<< Bridge | USS Malinche >>
"Beladd (PNPC) here, Commander. What do you need?"
<< Outpost >>
"Lieutenant, keep monitoring the energy signature and have the computer cross-reference the pattern against all known Borg activity in the Federation database. It still hasn't ascertained its function, so it's either something new or something old. I'd like to know what we're dealing with if we can."
<< Bridge >>
Viradia keyed in the query at her station. She raised her hairless brow when she saw the amount of data that returned. "Commander, it's going take the computer some time to process this along with all of the sensor data it's handling right now. I'll do my best to help it along."
<< Outpost >>
"Understood, keep me posted. Tournneau out." He finished making the adjustments to his rifle and resealed the service panel. He turned to his team. "All right, let's move out."
Seeing Derek ready to go, Sirak took a calming breath and followed the others out of the command section. Hopefully they would find their answers at the rendezvous. She tightened her grip slightly on the rifle and kept her eyes moving methodically — glancing behind them every so often as they made their way through the outpost.
<< Outpost Beta 12, Data Core >>
Derek (PNPC) frowned slightly as they waited for the other team to arrive. Their team had been closest and he'd cleared the area around the data core already. There was still no sign of the final crewmember or, thankfully, of anyone else. It was unnerving being placed in this situation and if he let his mind wander too much, he could practically hear the Collective in his mind still. Isabel was probably worried about him.
"Do you think you'd be able to do it?" Elle asked Lieutenant Greyman absent-mindedly, as she checked her rifle settings. "If someone you knew was taken? You know... assimilated?" Elle checked her rifle again. If she remembered the Borg scenario combat simulations correctly, even with phaser frequency modulation engaged, they'd get only a handful of shots in, each. Better to make them count.
Elle eyed the surrounding corridors even more suspiciously now. "Do you think the missing crew member has already become... you know, one of them? I mean, yikes, if so, they might as well be a goner, right?"
"If you do encounter anyone that has been assimilated, you would be doing them a favor." Korath said. "Perhaps a skilled doctor might be able to remove most of the implants but the Nanoprobes would still be in one's blood and many of the internal implants would need frequent maintenance. Not to mention the psychological trauma of watching and experiencing your own assimilation. Survivors often come back... Different."
"Definitely. I heard that even someone as strong-willed as Captain Picard was... you know, never quite the same afterward. I mean, how *can* you be, right? It's like what history books used to say about our grisly, ancient Earthern wars. One night you're in a foxhole forced to strangle your enemy, then the next night you're in bed beside your husband —" Elle shuddered *just* enough for her to brush against Lieutenant Greyman accidentally "— or wife."
"Oh — I..." Realizing too late that she'd said exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time, Elle only then remembered a particularly pertinent element of Lieutenant Greyman's history, which had leapt out at her while she was perusing the service records and bios of her new crewmates before coming aboard. How could have forgotten? "I-I didn't mean anything by it. I can only imagine... how difficult... um." Her shoulders sunk, "I-I'm sorry."
Having remained silent while his teammates spoke, Derek's jaw clenched slightly before he let out a slow breath. He looked at the Klingon and then focused his gaze on the young woman, "You don't need to apologize. There's times where I can almost forget what happened. Almost. My situation is somewhat unique; I was rescued and despite my time with the Collective, the doctors were able to reverse what had been done." Frowning, he hesitated a moment before continuing, "It's taken time and adjustments, but I'm more like my former self at this point. But...if it was a choice between being a drone for all time or dead, being dead would be a mercy."
Elle nodded slowly, in response, and in silence.
Korath returned the look briefly. His expression was stoic and unapologetic. It may not have been his intent to cause the Former borg any discomfort, but in his own experience his words were mirrored by his own father after his Assimilation and subsequent liberation. Of all the enemies he had faced in combat, the Borg were by far the most soulless of them all.
=/\= "Korath, this is Tournneau — we're about to arrive at the data core, so don't shoot us." =/\=
Elle laughed to herself, nervously. With a finger already at the trigger of her rifle, anticipating a horde of Borg drones, she might have gunned Tournneau down on sight as the door slid open. She was glad her eyes were faster than her fear, this time.
The door opened and Tournneau's team made their way inside. "Well, fancy seeing you lot here," Tournneau said to the other group. "Anyone found anything else that might piece this whole awful puzzle together?"
Elle thought about holding her tongue, but was talking before she realized it, as per usual, "Sir. I mean sirs," Elle said, addressing both Tournneau and Korath, "I don't know if it's relevant to the discovery of the Borg tech per se — or if it's even true really, but Branei and Owens were — um, involved. And I think they may have been trying to cover their tracks because of it, to help each other — try to undo a mistake maybe?"
Korath looked to the Ensign. "I am not certain how that affects the current situation; but it is none the less something to consider."
Tournneau raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, sir — if this wasn't just an innocent encounter with the Borg, if it was something that was done purposefully...we have to be careful. The Borg have always had their own inscrutable purposes, but if someone on our side is helping them, or perhaps trying to exploit them — this is starting to sound an awful lot like we're here to clean up some black op gone bad."
Elle pursed her lips. Had they stumbled upon something more sinister?
"Well, let's get what we came for and get out of here." Tournneau moved to the main panel. "Ba'el, help me open this panel and let's extract the core. Gently now, don't want to break anything important."
Ba'el nodded as she carefully began to extract the panel from the bulkhead, exposing the data core behind. Taking the panel from Derek, she placed it neatly next to her leaning from the wall. The two officers set to work removing the console and digging through the ODN pathways.
"Sirak, keep scanning this panel while we're in here and make sure that nothing suspicious is activated."
At the sound of her name, the Vulcan nodded. "Of course, sir." Sirak pulled out her tricorder and tapped through a few menus to start the scan. Everything appeared normal, at least at first. After a few minutes though, a blip appeared. Sirak frowned and watched closely to see if it was an anomaly or if it showed up again.
Eventually, Tournneau found the module he was looking for — the primary data module. After separating it from the main ODN bus, he gently popped it from its circuit and placed it inside the metal octagonal satchel that he had been carrying. "Core retrieved, let's exfil to the shuttle."
Seeing the slight frown on his fellow security officer's face, Derek paused and tensed slightly. Sirak was normally calm and stoic — what you would expect from a Vulcan. The troubled look on her face was out of place and he immediately adjusted his mindset to a defensive one.
"Understood." Korath said nodding toward the exit. "Double time back to the shuttle." The Klingon stepped away from the away team for a moment and tapped his comm badge. "Korath to shuttle bay. I want a full decon protocol for each member of the away team when we land as well as a security detachment to escort precious cargo to the computer lab."
Before the shuttlebay or their fellow security teammate at their own shuttle could respond, Sirak looked up from the analysis she'd run. "It is probable that we have a serious issue at hand. I was reading infrequent blips while Commander Tournneau was accessing the information. Just before and directly after he pulled the module, there was a serious spike in activity. The signature matches what we initially read when we arrived — I believe the Borg nanoprobes detected the intrusion and will now feel the need to act..."
Elle swallowed hard, fighting the knot in her throat. She visualized every nanoprobe embedded in the walls awakening at once. And suddenly, every shadow on the wall appeared to encroach upon them.
"Set phasers to auto rotate frequencies. Make your shots count. We may not get many of them off before the Borg adapt."
OFF:
JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer & Second Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Lieutenant Viradia Beladd (PNPC)
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Ensign Ba'el (PNPC)
and
Lieutenant Derek Greyman (PNPC)
& Lieutenant Sirak (NPC)
played by:
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/red/0.png)
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<< Outpost Beta 12: Data Core | Day 12 | 1551 Hours >>
"Set phasers to auto rotate frequencies," Korath said. "Make your shots count. We may not get many of them off before the Borg adapt."
The confines of the data center felt suddenly claustrophobic, as the Away Team double-timed it toward the exit and back toward the shuttle. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or some unintended consequence of a quickened pulse, but the distance to the corridor seemed somehow... to elongate — while the walls appeared to close in. It all made traversing the path to their shuttle seem that much more arduous and that much further away — or at least, it appeared that way to Elle.
She hit her comm-badge a little harder than she intended, then raised her phaser rifle, her suit now weighing a little heavier with each hurried footfall. She addressed the bridge — and again, more so to assure herself then anyone else, that their clean getaway was nigh. Escape. "This is Ensign Quinn to Malinche. We are on our way — at the quickstep!"
No response.
Elle wrinkled her nose, "This is Ensign Quinn to Malinche, do you copy?" Were communications now being blocked?
Nothing.
And then, there was something — just ahead of them, blast doors began to close. The exit from the Data Core access point was about to seal! Indeed the station itself was now "aware" of them, and was taking action to address this new threat.
Tournneau's eyes widened as the door heaved into motion. "Move!" he yelled reflexively as he started towards the door.
Elle's long strides kicked into gear before she realized it, helping her make some headway despite the clumsiness of her spacesuit. The Vulcan was closer and stood the best chance of getting through. Would it be enough?
Sirak's (PNPC) eyes were drawn forward as she heard the doors closing. Glancing over at Derek (NPC), and then the others, she set her jaw and started running for the doors. The Vulcan closed the distance as quickly as she could, but it was becoming evident that she wouldn't make it in time. She flung herself to the ground in a slide, trying to make it under the doors, but instead slid into them as they closed with a slight vibration.
Tournneau swore violently in the privacy of his EVA suit. It's a chess game now, and our lives are the prize. The Borg presence had made the opening move, and Tournneau knew that they were but pawns compared to the opposing King. There was no way to out-think or out-react an enemy that existed as software in the mighty Federation computer that powered the base. We've got to do something more....stupid...
"Computer, display this section as a hologram." His suit emitted a basic representation of the habitat section for the rest of the team to see. He looked over the schematic carefully, but quickly. The data core was surrounded by rock under the surface of the asteroid, under the main habitat and command levels. The blast door prevented them from getting into the corridor, and there were no adjoining rooms, and no Jefferies tubes leading out. It was probably the most secure location within the base. Wait a minute.... He zoomed in on the back wall. There was an access panel that led to a small service closet containing basic power relays and wiring - nothing useful there - but the wall of the closet faced into the asteroid's mass, and it was very thin.
"There!" Derek exclaimed over the comms. He turned to Korath. "Sir, I recommend we go through this wall and blast our way to the surface. It's only about ten meters of fairly light ore - all of our rifles put together ought to be able to tunnel our way out of here."
Korath thought about the option for a moment. It was true that the potential exit would likely be their best option, but it was a small space, especially for the large number of away team members; then here was his own height. "Do you really think this is our best option Commander?" He asked.
Suddenly, Elle fired a phaser burst at the wall that Lieutenant Commander Tournneau had indicated, scattering some debris... but barely making a dent. Tournneau and the others whirled around in alarm. "Oh," she said, slowly lowering her rifle "Right. You said all together. Got it. Yikes."
Elle grin-grimaced sheepishly through her teeth. "Sorry," she said, as Tournneau answered Korath.
Tournneau turned back to Korath with raised eyebrows.
"I think the only way out of the trap is to break the rules of the game — it can control all of the technology between us and the shuttle, but it can't control rock--"
Tournneau stopped talking as he heard a strange sound come over his EVA's external monitor. "Do you hear that?" he asked Korath. Tournneau adjusted the external microphone's gain and listened intently. "It sounds like something is outside...something metallic...almost like --"
The locking mechanism in the door released and the blast door slid open, revealing several small robotic walkers. Each one was about a meter around and suspended by many spider-like articulated legs. The main body appeared to be the remains of small Federation probe housing, but it was now covered in a multitude of Borg fixtures and sensors. "...almost like that," Tournneau finished his sentence.
Once Greyman helped Sirak, both made their way back over to the others. Sirak's left side was sore, but she ignored the discomfort - they had more important concerns. The Vulcan turned quickly as she heard the door slide open, then readied her phaser rifle as she watched the mechanical creatures scuttle in. Their situation certainly wasn't improving. "We need to take action quickly, Commander..."
"Very well, we follow your plan," Korath said. "Get the away team to the surface. I will buy as much time as I can!" The Klingon ordered.
Tournneau turned to the others. "Greyman, Sirak; provide fire support with Korath. Ba'el, Quinn; we've got to get this panel off and start cutting."
The others took cover around the control consoles as Tournneau jumped to the rear wall panel. "Four bolt releases - Quinn, go top right, Ba'el go bottom right. I'll get the other two. Cover each other!"
Tournneau smashed the access ports on the left side with his fist and bent them back on their hinges when they popped open. He lifted the access handles, twisted the interlocks, and pushed the handles back down. He felt the panel sag as it gave way, and stepped back to let it fall to the deck with a loud thud when Quinn released the last bolt.
"Set phasers at maximum power, wide cone; concentrate our fire!" The phasers ignited and vaporized the sensitive equipment in the closet immediately. Soon, the thin duranium of the rear wall began to melt and turned into a red pile of slag on the deck. The room filled with hot vapor as the phasers began boring through the rock behind.
Elle readied her rifle and was set to concentrate fire, before Korath's words sunk in a moment later. "Sir," she said, "what do you mean? We all have to get out of here! Together. Buy us a drink maybe, but buying time? That cost might be too high, sir. I mean, the outpost crew's already paid that price, right?"
"The plan will not work if the away team is over run with hostiles," Korath said as a handful of spider like constructs appeared in the door way. Several more drilled their way through the ceiling. Korath fired a few shots, destroying four of the constructs before he tossed his rifle to Quinn and pulled a Mek'leth from a scabbard behind his back. "I will give you the time you need to cut your way to the surface, NOW GO!"
Grimacing as he stood next to Sirak and Korath, Derek Greyman joined the Executive Officer in firing at their latest enemy. While these creatures certainly weren't humanoid, they could still do an awful lot of damage...not to mention there was a chance they could still potentially assimilate the away team if they'd been given the correct coding and parts. It was not something he was eager to find out.
Sirak locked the safety on her rifle and slung it back over her shoulder as she pulled a pair of daggers from where they'd been strapped to her thighs. As one of the creatures came flying at her, she threw a dagger in its direction and watched as the creature was pinned to the wall opposite her. Moving quickly to the wall, she thrust the other dagger through it until it stopped moving, then pulled both out and readied herself for the next attack.
Elle caught Korath's phaser rifle, but said nothing. She was a good shot. Sort of. In practice at least. Six solid hits in live combat. 6-for-6! "Well, 6-for-7, I guess, if you count just now with the wall," she mumbled to herself. Rambling! Stop it, Elle, she thought. Perhaps she could blast them away from Korath in time, even after she and the others had blasted a way through the rock.
And as she gripped the second rifle in her off-hand thinking quickly on how to brace it against her hip so as to fire both at the wall at once... she saw, silhouetted against the far wall, a pair of large looming shadows descending from atop her own!
Elle turned quickly to see that two arachnid constructs looming overhead! They had somehow emerged from the ceiling directly between her and the Klingon! Up close the Borg constructs looked even more... grotesque. The multitude of swiveling, jittering, asymmetrical focusing lenses affixed to their fronts — for they were neither heads, nor faces — lent the Borg creature all the more spidery menace!
From what she had learned at Starfleet Academy, she'd assumed that the Borg always built their drones upon the bodies of the Assimilated. And if that had been the case here, what kind of horror show had they stumbled upon at Outpost Beta 12! Elle's mind raced as she rushed to adjust the settings of her phaser rifles. Firing both, while bracing each against her waist, had prevented from reacting as quickly as she would have otherwise. In fact, it might already be too late....
Tournneau and his team continued to fire into the new tunnel, now nearly eight meters long by his estimation. He stopped firing to redirect his aim towards the closer construct that had come through the ceiling and was heading for Quinn. He readjusted his beam confinement and fired, boring a hole through the body of the cybernetic creature.
Derek shouted on the comms over the cacophony of phaser fire and robotic chittering. "I think we're almost through — brace for decompression!"
As the first construct fell at Elle's feet, she nodded to Tournneau, "Thanks!" One down, one to go. Elle took a step backward to match each of the second construct's forward moves, she'd have to risk keeping her fire concentrated on the wall. She hoped the Borgs' deliberate gait would work in her favor. It was close — closer than she'd wish anything on anyone. Hold your ground, she told herself. They just needed a few moments more....
The Klingon was swinging his blade with such ferocity one could almost hear the blade cut the air over the phaser fire. Several dozen of the creatures lay deactivated at his feet. Of the two spider constructs that had turned their attention to Quinn, the remaining one raced toward her. It was joined by yet another spider that took the place of the one that Tournneau felled. As Korath spun around, he realized there was no time to take one out and then reposition to strike at a second with the same blade. The Klingon cast the blade at the furthest spider. The blade impaled it and came to rest as the mek'leth buried its blade six inches into the bulkhead. Now unarmed, he placed his body between the second construct and Quinn, catching the creature before it had time to strike her.
Elle gasped as though she herself had been struck, shocked by what she saw. Korath moved with speed and agility that most would have thought would be impossible for someone his size, but he was not fast enough to avoid the attack himself. Three blade-like appendages lanced out from the spider and impaled the Klingon through his EVA suit's chest piece. With a defiant show of personal strength, the Klingon broke the construct in half, before kneeling to the floor due to his wounds.
"Koraaaaath!" Elle shouted! And then, as violently as the cry was pulled from Elle's stomach, the air was pulled was the room.
Rock gave way as the Klingon fell. They were through.
OFF
A Joint Post by:
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Ensign Ba'el (PNPC)
and
Lieutenant Derek Greyman (PNPC)
& Lieutenant Sirak (NPC)
played by:
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
<< Outpost Beta 12: Data Core | Day 12 | 1551 Hours >>
"Set phasers to auto rotate frequencies," Korath said. "Make your shots count. We may not get many of them off before the Borg adapt."
The confines of the data center felt suddenly claustrophobic, as the Away Team double-timed it toward the exit and back toward the shuttle. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or some unintended consequence of a quickened pulse, but the distance to the corridor seemed somehow... to elongate — while the walls appeared to close in. It all made traversing the path to their shuttle seem that much more arduous and that much further away — or at least, it appeared that way to Elle.
She hit her comm-badge a little harder than she intended, then raised her phaser rifle, her suit now weighing a little heavier with each hurried footfall. She addressed the bridge — and again, more so to assure herself then anyone else, that their clean getaway was nigh. Escape. "This is Ensign Quinn to Malinche. We are on our way — at the quickstep!"
No response.
Elle wrinkled her nose, "This is Ensign Quinn to Malinche, do you copy?" Were communications now being blocked?
Nothing.
And then, there was something — just ahead of them, blast doors began to close. The exit from the Data Core access point was about to seal! Indeed the station itself was now "aware" of them, and was taking action to address this new threat.
Tournneau's eyes widened as the door heaved into motion. "Move!" he yelled reflexively as he started towards the door.
Elle's long strides kicked into gear before she realized it, helping her make some headway despite the clumsiness of her spacesuit. The Vulcan was closer and stood the best chance of getting through. Would it be enough?
Sirak's (PNPC) eyes were drawn forward as she heard the doors closing. Glancing over at Derek (NPC), and then the others, she set her jaw and started running for the doors. The Vulcan closed the distance as quickly as she could, but it was becoming evident that she wouldn't make it in time. She flung herself to the ground in a slide, trying to make it under the doors, but instead slid into them as they closed with a slight vibration.
Tournneau swore violently in the privacy of his EVA suit. It's a chess game now, and our lives are the prize. The Borg presence had made the opening move, and Tournneau knew that they were but pawns compared to the opposing King. There was no way to out-think or out-react an enemy that existed as software in the mighty Federation computer that powered the base. We've got to do something more....stupid...
"Computer, display this section as a hologram." His suit emitted a basic representation of the habitat section for the rest of the team to see. He looked over the schematic carefully, but quickly. The data core was surrounded by rock under the surface of the asteroid, under the main habitat and command levels. The blast door prevented them from getting into the corridor, and there were no adjoining rooms, and no Jefferies tubes leading out. It was probably the most secure location within the base. Wait a minute.... He zoomed in on the back wall. There was an access panel that led to a small service closet containing basic power relays and wiring - nothing useful there - but the wall of the closet faced into the asteroid's mass, and it was very thin.
"There!" Derek exclaimed over the comms. He turned to Korath. "Sir, I recommend we go through this wall and blast our way to the surface. It's only about ten meters of fairly light ore - all of our rifles put together ought to be able to tunnel our way out of here."
Korath thought about the option for a moment. It was true that the potential exit would likely be their best option, but it was a small space, especially for the large number of away team members; then here was his own height. "Do you really think this is our best option Commander?" He asked.
Suddenly, Elle fired a phaser burst at the wall that Lieutenant Commander Tournneau had indicated, scattering some debris... but barely making a dent. Tournneau and the others whirled around in alarm. "Oh," she said, slowly lowering her rifle "Right. You said all together. Got it. Yikes."
Elle grin-grimaced sheepishly through her teeth. "Sorry," she said, as Tournneau answered Korath.
Tournneau turned back to Korath with raised eyebrows.
"I think the only way out of the trap is to break the rules of the game — it can control all of the technology between us and the shuttle, but it can't control rock--"
Tournneau stopped talking as he heard a strange sound come over his EVA's external monitor. "Do you hear that?" he asked Korath. Tournneau adjusted the external microphone's gain and listened intently. "It sounds like something is outside...something metallic...almost like --"
The locking mechanism in the door released and the blast door slid open, revealing several small robotic walkers. Each one was about a meter around and suspended by many spider-like articulated legs. The main body appeared to be the remains of small Federation probe housing, but it was now covered in a multitude of Borg fixtures and sensors. "...almost like that," Tournneau finished his sentence.
Once Greyman helped Sirak, both made their way back over to the others. Sirak's left side was sore, but she ignored the discomfort - they had more important concerns. The Vulcan turned quickly as she heard the door slide open, then readied her phaser rifle as she watched the mechanical creatures scuttle in. Their situation certainly wasn't improving. "We need to take action quickly, Commander..."
"Very well, we follow your plan," Korath said. "Get the away team to the surface. I will buy as much time as I can!" The Klingon ordered.
Tournneau turned to the others. "Greyman, Sirak; provide fire support with Korath. Ba'el, Quinn; we've got to get this panel off and start cutting."
The others took cover around the control consoles as Tournneau jumped to the rear wall panel. "Four bolt releases - Quinn, go top right, Ba'el go bottom right. I'll get the other two. Cover each other!"
Tournneau smashed the access ports on the left side with his fist and bent them back on their hinges when they popped open. He lifted the access handles, twisted the interlocks, and pushed the handles back down. He felt the panel sag as it gave way, and stepped back to let it fall to the deck with a loud thud when Quinn released the last bolt.
"Set phasers at maximum power, wide cone; concentrate our fire!" The phasers ignited and vaporized the sensitive equipment in the closet immediately. Soon, the thin duranium of the rear wall began to melt and turned into a red pile of slag on the deck. The room filled with hot vapor as the phasers began boring through the rock behind.
Elle readied her rifle and was set to concentrate fire, before Korath's words sunk in a moment later. "Sir," she said, "what do you mean? We all have to get out of here! Together. Buy us a drink maybe, but buying time? That cost might be too high, sir. I mean, the outpost crew's already paid that price, right?"
"The plan will not work if the away team is over run with hostiles," Korath said as a handful of spider like constructs appeared in the door way. Several more drilled their way through the ceiling. Korath fired a few shots, destroying four of the constructs before he tossed his rifle to Quinn and pulled a Mek'leth from a scabbard behind his back. "I will give you the time you need to cut your way to the surface, NOW GO!"
Grimacing as he stood next to Sirak and Korath, Derek Greyman joined the Executive Officer in firing at their latest enemy. While these creatures certainly weren't humanoid, they could still do an awful lot of damage...not to mention there was a chance they could still potentially assimilate the away team if they'd been given the correct coding and parts. It was not something he was eager to find out.
Sirak locked the safety on her rifle and slung it back over her shoulder as she pulled a pair of daggers from where they'd been strapped to her thighs. As one of the creatures came flying at her, she threw a dagger in its direction and watched as the creature was pinned to the wall opposite her. Moving quickly to the wall, she thrust the other dagger through it until it stopped moving, then pulled both out and readied herself for the next attack.
Elle caught Korath's phaser rifle, but said nothing. She was a good shot. Sort of. In practice at least. Six solid hits in live combat. 6-for-6! "Well, 6-for-7, I guess, if you count just now with the wall," she mumbled to herself. Rambling! Stop it, Elle, she thought. Perhaps she could blast them away from Korath in time, even after she and the others had blasted a way through the rock.
And as she gripped the second rifle in her off-hand thinking quickly on how to brace it against her hip so as to fire both at the wall at once... she saw, silhouetted against the far wall, a pair of large looming shadows descending from atop her own!
Elle turned quickly to see that two arachnid constructs looming overhead! They had somehow emerged from the ceiling directly between her and the Klingon! Up close the Borg constructs looked even more... grotesque. The multitude of swiveling, jittering, asymmetrical focusing lenses affixed to their fronts — for they were neither heads, nor faces — lent the Borg creature all the more spidery menace!
From what she had learned at Starfleet Academy, she'd assumed that the Borg always built their drones upon the bodies of the Assimilated. And if that had been the case here, what kind of horror show had they stumbled upon at Outpost Beta 12! Elle's mind raced as she rushed to adjust the settings of her phaser rifles. Firing both, while bracing each against her waist, had prevented from reacting as quickly as she would have otherwise. In fact, it might already be too late....
Tournneau and his team continued to fire into the new tunnel, now nearly eight meters long by his estimation. He stopped firing to redirect his aim towards the closer construct that had come through the ceiling and was heading for Quinn. He readjusted his beam confinement and fired, boring a hole through the body of the cybernetic creature.
Derek shouted on the comms over the cacophony of phaser fire and robotic chittering. "I think we're almost through — brace for decompression!"
As the first construct fell at Elle's feet, she nodded to Tournneau, "Thanks!" One down, one to go. Elle took a step backward to match each of the second construct's forward moves, she'd have to risk keeping her fire concentrated on the wall. She hoped the Borgs' deliberate gait would work in her favor. It was close — closer than she'd wish anything on anyone. Hold your ground, she told herself. They just needed a few moments more....
The Klingon was swinging his blade with such ferocity one could almost hear the blade cut the air over the phaser fire. Several dozen of the creatures lay deactivated at his feet. Of the two spider constructs that had turned their attention to Quinn, the remaining one raced toward her. It was joined by yet another spider that took the place of the one that Tournneau felled. As Korath spun around, he realized there was no time to take one out and then reposition to strike at a second with the same blade. The Klingon cast the blade at the furthest spider. The blade impaled it and came to rest as the mek'leth buried its blade six inches into the bulkhead. Now unarmed, he placed his body between the second construct and Quinn, catching the creature before it had time to strike her.
Elle gasped as though she herself had been struck, shocked by what she saw. Korath moved with speed and agility that most would have thought would be impossible for someone his size, but he was not fast enough to avoid the attack himself. Three blade-like appendages lanced out from the spider and impaled the Klingon through his EVA suit's chest piece. With a defiant show of personal strength, the Klingon broke the construct in half, before kneeling to the floor due to his wounds.
"Koraaaaath!" Elle shouted! And then, as violently as the cry was pulled from Elle's stomach, the air was pulled was the room.
Rock gave way as the Klingon fell. They were through.
OFF
A Joint Post by:
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Ensign Ba'el (PNPC)
and
Lieutenant Derek Greyman (PNPC)
& Lieutenant Sirak (NPC)
played by:
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/yellow/001.png)
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<< Outpost Beta 12 | Data Core | Mission Day 12 | 1600 >>
"KORAAAAAAAAATH!"
Tournneau heard Elle scream over the comms as his visor widgets started blinking bright red, but he couldn't stop to look. He was nearly through to the surface. He braced himself against the bulkhead as his phaser cut through the final meter of rock in the impromptu tunnel. The air in the room rushed out through the tunnel, throwing the remains of several of the constructs into space. The constant robotic chittering from his external microphone was drowned out in the tremendous whoosh of the atmosphere venting, and was replaced only by his own breathing.
Tournneau turned around to see Korath on the ground with Elle standing over him. Tournneau looked at his visor, and several widgets were blinking angrily at him.
[ALERT]
LT. CDR. KORATH
EVA SUIT COMPROMISED
OXYGEN RESERVE 60%
FALLING RATE 2 L/m
LIFESIGNS: CRITICAL
"Shit! Korath!" Tournneau reached down and removed a small, flat metal box that was strapped to his leg and jumped to kneel at Korath's side. Silent phaser beams from Greyman (PNPC) and Sirak (NPC) lanced out against now tacet enemies in the darkness. The escaping gas of Korath's punctured suit was spraying copious amounts of blood onto Tournneau and Quinn as his suit overpressured itself in an effort to keep its occupant alive. Tournneau opened the small box, emblazoned with the caduceus seal of Starfleet Medical, and removed a medical tricorder. he began quickly scanning the injured Klingon.
The Klingon's breath was laboured, partly due to his suit being compromised and partly due to the three stab wounds in his chest. "You... a-are... wasting.... Time.... Get. Back. To... the... shuttle," he managed to speak, though the gurgling in his throat.
Elle once thought Klingon blood was purple... or even pink. Despite formally learning otherwise while at Starfleet Academy, Elle knew that the misinformation persisted. This was due largely to a series of popular Earthen films that dramatized life in the Federation. The cinemas of the day saw Klingons cast as posturing, mustachioed villains — at least initially, while also introducing minor mistruths to the public consciousness, to skirt censorship that had lingered on in some pockets of Human culture. After their Holodeck training session, after the Battle of Qam-Chee simulation Elle had stumbled upon, Korath continued to set the record straight regarding what was fact and what was fiction.
And all over a shared bottle of Bloodwine. That evening, Elle had become so intoxicated that she'd spilled some of the wine by mistake. And now, here was the Klingon's blood staining Elle's own gloved hands. Here was Korath's blood. Red blood. Flowing like wine.
The young Half Klingon rushed toward her father, only to find her legs wouldn't function. "FATHER!" she yelled out. For all their differences she couldn't imagine her world without him in it. A deep rage set in as she saw the mixture of gas and blood venting from the suit and the life sign alert on her helmets hud. Forcing herself up she let loose a torrent of phaser fire in the direction of the advancing drone spiders.
Although Sirak heard her the concern and panic in her crewmates' voices, the Vulcan remained calm and focused. She was already fulfilling the role the away team required. If she wasn't able to help hold off these creatures, the others wouldn't be able to help Korath or escape. The expression her face didn't change, she simply stood her ground and continued battling their enemy.
Greyman took a moment to glance over his shoulder at the fallen Executive Officer. It didn't look good... The injuries themselves were bad enough, but having his suit punctured was an even more immediate threat. Not to mention the fact that they didn't really know anything about the spider-like robotic Borg creatures. Could they have assimilation probes in them? Could the assimilation process have begun, albeit discreetly?
"You're gonna be just fine, tough guy — sir," Elle said unconvincingly to Korath, as she saw his daughter fly into a rage of phaser fire beside them. Elle tried to think of a way to drag the wounded Klingon with them, despite the encroaching drones. "Today might be a good day, but it's not going to be the day you die!"
Tournneau knew they had perhaps minutes before they were overrun or the Borg adapted to the new hole in the side of the station. The readings on the tricorder were definitely not good - he was losing blood fast. However, besides his large intestine and his first liver, he didn't appear to have suffered any direct damage to his vital organs. There didn't seem to be any fragments from the blades or his suit present, either. "We're not going to leave you to these things, Korath."
The Klingon shook his head inside his helmet. He tried to push the Ensign off him, but the combination of the chest wounds and lack of O2 had taken its toll on him. His muscles refused to push Quinn away. His eyes rolled back, and with one last wisp of a voice said, "No.... G... Go...."
The tricorder beeped urgently and displayed its diagnosis.
SUBJECT: KLINGON MALE
[DIAGNOSIS]
SEVERE ABDOMINAL LACERATIONS
GASTRIC ORGAN DAMAGE
HYPOVOLEMIC SHOCK
HYPOXAEMIA
RECOMMENDATION -
[IMMEDIATE APPLICATION OF FTM-1 AND TRIOXIN]
[IMMEDIATE APPLICATION OF ANABOLIC PROTOPLASER]
Tournneau found the small canisters with the labels FTM-1 and Trioxin, and uncapped them. Field Trauma Mixture One was a combination of tranexamic acid to stop bleeding; dermaline gel to catalyze tissue regeneration; the powerful analgesic triptacederine; trinephedrine to counteract the shock from blood loss; and several anti-microbial agents. Trioxin was a compound that counteracted the effects of oxygen deprivation. It wasn't going to cure him, but it would at least keep him from bleeding out and keep him in one piece.
"OK, you might be a Klingon, but this is going to hurt at first."
Korath barely acknowledged the statement. A mixture of delirium and frustration flooding his thoughts.
Tournneau reached through the broken chestplate of the Klingon's suit and injected the canister of FTM-1 into the open wounds. Despite the lack of Oxygen, The Klingon did react to the treatment. his torso raising slightly as he let out a horrific moan mixed with a howl through grit teeth; forcing those able to hold him down. Tournneau tossed the empty canister aside. He ripped the protoplaser out of the case and quickly ran it over the wound. The bleeding subsided to a trickle as the tissues wove themselves into a hard, bloody knot of scar tissue under the red beam of the device.
Tournneau hastily replaced the medical gear, cramming the box shut and snapping it back on to his thigh. He removed a silver canister from his waist that contained a sealant foam and sprayed it onto the front of Korath's broken suit, smearing it across the damaged area with his other hand as it expanded and solidified. The telemetry from Korath's suit in Tournneau's visor stabilized, and just in time — he had lost nearly three-quarters of his oxygen supply. Derek wasn't too worried about that, however — he didn't plan on sticking around very much longer. Tournneau inserted the canister of Trioxin into a port on the back of Korath's suit, which infused his air with the agent.
"All right, Korath, are you with me?"
The drug filling his lungs and forcing them to open and take in large amounts of O2 brought the Klingon back to the here and now for the moment. Despite the fact his wounds were just holding together The Klingon tried to stand on his own power, but the trauma of the attack and the limited air supply while he was being treated had taken more of a toll than he cared to admit.
"Woah, there," Tournneau said as he placed one of Korath's massive arms over his shoulder. "The meds are keeping you stable and lucid, but you're still in critical condition. We're going to have to carry you out, sir."
Korath nodded and resigned himself to being aided back to the shuttle. "I gave you an order to leave Commander." The Klingon said with a barely perceptible grin on his face. Even he had to admit that Tournneau had done an excellent job under dire circumstances. For now however, the drugs kicking in made it hard for him to focus on the fact the entire away team had disregarded his orders to return to the shuttle. He simply focused on putting one boot in front of the other.
"I'm sorry, Commander - your suit must have had comms trouble when it was damaged," Derek said unconvincingly.
"I wasn't going to listen anyway," Elle said sincerely, as she slung the — perhaps nearly spent? — rifles over her shoulder, and crouched to help hoist the heavy Klingon up, and out with them. And although Korath still towered over her, Elle's six foot frame allowed her and Lt. Commander Tournneau to better balance the Klingon's mass between the two of them.
As the three of them moved toward the exit they'd made, Elle wanted to thank Tournneau — as well as express surprise at his field medic expertise. "Guess we don't need that EMH after all," she said, "Glad you knew how to be so... um, stabby with a hyposyringe back there."
Tournneau called over the comms, "Crew, exfil! We'll make contact with Revan (NPC) on the surface. Hopefully our comms can cut through out there."
Sirak glanced back at the Chief Engineer; it seemed they'd been able to get Korath stabilized and it was time to go. Luckily the creatures weren't pouring in as they had at first. Her eyes met her fellow security officer's and she nodded to him, indicating he should break off next. Once he had, the Vulcan continued firing as she walked backwards towards their exit.
Still providing covering fire along with Sirak and Greyman, Ba'el looked back toward her father and the others. "How is he, sir?" she asked Tournneau as he and Quinn helped the Klingon to his feet.
"If he were a human, he'd be dead. But he'll make it — if we make it."
"When. When we make it," Elle said, hoping to sound somehow both 'matter of fact' and emphatic about things. She couldn't decide.
Tournneau pivoted around under Korath to face backwards as they traversed the room and up the incline of the escape tunnel. He used his free arm to fire the phaser rifle at their pursuers. The flow of constructs seemed to wane a bit as well, but Derek had no intention on staying to find out how many were left. He continued firing with the others as they beat their retreat to the surface.
As they neared their escape route, Greyman paused and turned towards the other Derek, "Sir, perhaps we should bring one of these Borg robot-spiders with us for analysis. If we take a disabled one and use proper containment protocols it should be reasonably safe. It might help us figure out what happened here and if there are any complications we'd have something to study." His eyes glanced over to Korath briefly, not wanting to specifically state his concern regarding the Executive Officer.
As they marched onward, nearly there, Elle's mind mined a growing concern of hers, one that had already been gnawing away in the background of her brain, but had now taken center stage. Now that Korath was at least mobile — and now that there was hope of saving him.
With Korath lucid but lacking in awareness, stumbling on, draped between them, the first moment that Elle managed to catch Tournneau's eye, she whispered the words, "Do you think he's been... uh, Borged? That he's being —" She mouthed the last word in silence "— Assimilated?"
Then, at the very moment that word tumbled out into the air, one of the arachnid constructs that lay alongside their path — one thought "dead" or deactivated — lurched back up before them!
Tournneau caught the movement in the corner of his eye as he was looking over at Quinn. He swung his free arm behind him and shot the construct, blowing a hole straight through the cybernetic creature. "Agreed, Greyman — let's take that one. Should be offline now — at least, it had better be. And Quinn — we'll deal with that if it comes to it."
Elle looked over to Tournneau and nodded, solemnly. Then, with her phaser rifle pointing at the downed creature, she kicked at the construct with her feet... just to be sure.
Once Derek blew a hole through the Borgified robot spider, Greyman nodded, "That one, aye sir. I do believe you got it." The security officer knelt down and eyed it quickly before picking it up by two legs and swinging it over his shoulder. With only one free hand, he switched to a phaser rather than the phaser rifle he'd been using and continued firing.
As they reached the exit, Tournneau stopped about three meters out and set Korath's weight on Quinn for a moment.
"How do you want to proceed, Commander," Sirak asked calmly as she continued firing. The away mission had certainly taken some drastic turns from what most would consider 'normal', but the Vulcan knew that that was part of their job — to be prepared for whatever they might come up against. Now, though, it was time to get back.
"Just a moment," Tournneau said. He opened the service port on his rifle, pressed a few of the controls in sequence, and then threw the rifle overhand to the bottom of the shaft.
Tournneau grunted as he let the weapon loose, "Assimilate this, you bastards!"
He returned to Korath and Quinn and took Korath's rifle off of Quinn's back. He started them moving a bit faster, dragging Korath's feet through the powdery surface of the asteroid. "We're going to want to be a bit further on in about twenty seconds!"
Derek keyed the comms with his free hand. "Tournneau to Malinche..." Still no response. "Tournneau to Revan, do you copy?"
Although somewhat garbled, Revan's voice came in. "Sir, Revan here. What are those things? We lost contact and a bunch of...spiders...appeared around the shuttle. I hit the emergency take-off and I've been circling the pad to keep them off of the shuttle."
Tournneau continued firing at the constructs that were pursuing them across the surface. "Good work Revan — we're on the surface about two hundred meters from the docking port on a heading of three-twenty. I need you to close on our position for extraction, LZ will be hot."
"Understood, sir, heading your way."
Shortly after Revan signed off, the ground rocked beneath the feet of the away team, and a gout of superheated plasma and rock erupted from the escape tunnel behind them. The rock shrapnel shredded several of the constructs that had made it to the surface. The rifle that Tournneau had set on overload had dealt with whatever else was still in the data core, and the blast collapsed the escape tunnel that they had bored.
Elle felt a wave of mild relief as the edge of the shockwave from the explosive collapse of their escape tunnel reached them and began to ebb. Her thoughts touched briefly upon the tension between the thrill of discovery... and of burying what was best left behind. Ready to jump back behind its controls — and to feel more in control — Elle looked for the shuttle, and into the bleak "sky" of dark and dust above the asteroid.
The Machu Picchu swooped in from behind the away team, and stopped about five meters in front of them. Revan set the shuttle hovering half a meter above the surface with its rear door open.
Elle thought that had she been at the controls, she'd gave gotten the shuttle closer. Now was not the time for pride or to quibble however. Although she didn't see it herself, she could sense one of the cybernetic arachnids hot on their heels.
The team scrambled in, still firing at the constructs that remained. Tournneau and Quinn, the last ones on the surface, hefted Korath over the lip of the door and dragged him into the rear compartment.
Tournneau keyed his comms, "Revan, we're in — hit it!"
The shuttle lurched forward as Revan activated the thrusters. Were it not for the miracle of inertial dampening, the team would have been thrown out of the rear door; all they felt was a slight sway backwards. A construct that had gotten particularly close in the last moment was thrown clear by the rocket blast. Tournneau keyed the rear door shut as he stood from the deck.
"Maintain self-quarantine, keep your visors locked. We're going to have to go through screening when we get back to the Malinche." He turned to Quinn. "Why don't you give Revan a hand up front?"
Exhaling at last, after realizing she'd been holding her breath these last few seconds until Korath was safely aboard, Elle smiled, "I'll give old Darth more than a hand."
Korath raised his head slightly and saw the shuttle. Putting all his strength into getting to the open hatch as quickly as possible. He did his best to stand under his own power as much as possible to reduce the load on the two officers.
As Elle felt Korath making the effort to stand on his own two legs, she waited until he had some support from the shuttle wall, before making her way up front. "I knew you'd be A-OK, Korath — uh, sir. You've never looked better!" Elle said, inappropriately.
"Tournneau to Malinche." Now that they were clear of the asteroid, his comm signal was able to cut through the interference.
<< USS Malinche, Bridge >>
"This is the Malinche. What's your status, Commander?" Isabel was relieved to hear from the away team, but she waited anxiously to hear how they were. Based on the activity that the bridge had picked up from the outpost, they'd gotten the impression that things had not been going well. Of course, it was a good sign that they were hearing from them.
<< Outpost >>
"Lieutenant Commander Korath is injured, critical but stable. We need to be screened for contamination before disembarking. Have Medical set up a quarantine tent in the shuttlebay — we'll dock the rear hatch to it when we land."
<< USS Malinche, Bridge >>
Only one injury, albeit critical, was fairly good considering the circumstances. Isabel listened to Derek's assessment and nodded thoughtfully - his suggestions are what she would have insisted upon anyway. She didn't want to take any chances infecting the ship or crew with Borg technology. "I'll make sure Medical knows you're coming and is prepared. We'll get the shuttlebay quarantined immediately," she responded. "Were you able to retrieve any information?"
<< Outpost >>
"We retrieved the data, but we need to set up an isolated terminal. I don't want to plug it into the main computer. It seems like whatever the Borg presence did, it was using the base computer to take control of the outpost."
<< USS Malinche, Bridge >>
Isabel frowned; the idea of the Borg tech taking over the base computer was unsettling. "Agreed, Commander. Lieutenant Beladd (PNPC) can get a terminal ready to analyze the data. I'll have her get started on that while you undergo decontamination procedures. What about the outpost?"
<< Outpost >>
"The base is lost, Captain. I recommend destroying it, and everything on that rock. Immediately."
<< USS Malinche, Bridge >>
Given the situation, Isabel didn't see a way around it. Starfleet Intelligence might be inclined to keep it, but every ship or person who came into contact with it would be exposing themselves to the possibility of spreading it further. StarFleet Command might not be entirely happy either, but she had forewarned them that it could be a possibility. A necessity, even. "Once you're safely aboard, we'll move to a safer distance and destroy it. Unless there's anything else, Commander Tournneau, I'd suggest you get back to the ship now."
<< Outpost >>
Elle touched Revan on the shoulder as she moved to the pilot's station, "I'll take it from here. Nice work, Ms. Revan. Thank you for the... uh, lift back there." Then Elle glanced over her shoulder just in time to catch the words "quarantine" —
"Thanks for the pick up." — and to see Korath staggering to stay upright.
"Thanks for the pick-me-up even." Then Elle turned her attention to going full throttle, away from what would soon be rubble.
"I know we all sure could use one...."
OFF:
JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer & Second Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Warrant Officer 2nd Class Revan Loril (NPC)
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Ensign Ba'el (PNPC)
and
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Lieutenant Derek Greyman (PNPC)
& Lieutenant Sirak (NPC)
and
<< Outpost Beta 12 | Data Core | Mission Day 12 | 1600 >>
"KORAAAAAAAAATH!"
Tournneau heard Elle scream over the comms as his visor widgets started blinking bright red, but he couldn't stop to look. He was nearly through to the surface. He braced himself against the bulkhead as his phaser cut through the final meter of rock in the impromptu tunnel. The air in the room rushed out through the tunnel, throwing the remains of several of the constructs into space. The constant robotic chittering from his external microphone was drowned out in the tremendous whoosh of the atmosphere venting, and was replaced only by his own breathing.
Tournneau turned around to see Korath on the ground with Elle standing over him. Tournneau looked at his visor, and several widgets were blinking angrily at him.
[ALERT]
LT. CDR. KORATH
EVA SUIT COMPROMISED
OXYGEN RESERVE 60%
FALLING RATE 2 L/m
LIFESIGNS: CRITICAL
"Shit! Korath!" Tournneau reached down and removed a small, flat metal box that was strapped to his leg and jumped to kneel at Korath's side. Silent phaser beams from Greyman (PNPC) and Sirak (NPC) lanced out against now tacet enemies in the darkness. The escaping gas of Korath's punctured suit was spraying copious amounts of blood onto Tournneau and Quinn as his suit overpressured itself in an effort to keep its occupant alive. Tournneau opened the small box, emblazoned with the caduceus seal of Starfleet Medical, and removed a medical tricorder. he began quickly scanning the injured Klingon.
The Klingon's breath was laboured, partly due to his suit being compromised and partly due to the three stab wounds in his chest. "You... a-are... wasting.... Time.... Get. Back. To... the... shuttle," he managed to speak, though the gurgling in his throat.
Elle once thought Klingon blood was purple... or even pink. Despite formally learning otherwise while at Starfleet Academy, Elle knew that the misinformation persisted. This was due largely to a series of popular Earthen films that dramatized life in the Federation. The cinemas of the day saw Klingons cast as posturing, mustachioed villains — at least initially, while also introducing minor mistruths to the public consciousness, to skirt censorship that had lingered on in some pockets of Human culture. After their Holodeck training session, after the Battle of Qam-Chee simulation Elle had stumbled upon, Korath continued to set the record straight regarding what was fact and what was fiction.
And all over a shared bottle of Bloodwine. That evening, Elle had become so intoxicated that she'd spilled some of the wine by mistake. And now, here was the Klingon's blood staining Elle's own gloved hands. Here was Korath's blood. Red blood. Flowing like wine.
The young Half Klingon rushed toward her father, only to find her legs wouldn't function. "FATHER!" she yelled out. For all their differences she couldn't imagine her world without him in it. A deep rage set in as she saw the mixture of gas and blood venting from the suit and the life sign alert on her helmets hud. Forcing herself up she let loose a torrent of phaser fire in the direction of the advancing drone spiders.
Although Sirak heard her the concern and panic in her crewmates' voices, the Vulcan remained calm and focused. She was already fulfilling the role the away team required. If she wasn't able to help hold off these creatures, the others wouldn't be able to help Korath or escape. The expression her face didn't change, she simply stood her ground and continued battling their enemy.
Greyman took a moment to glance over his shoulder at the fallen Executive Officer. It didn't look good... The injuries themselves were bad enough, but having his suit punctured was an even more immediate threat. Not to mention the fact that they didn't really know anything about the spider-like robotic Borg creatures. Could they have assimilation probes in them? Could the assimilation process have begun, albeit discreetly?
"You're gonna be just fine, tough guy — sir," Elle said unconvincingly to Korath, as she saw his daughter fly into a rage of phaser fire beside them. Elle tried to think of a way to drag the wounded Klingon with them, despite the encroaching drones. "Today might be a good day, but it's not going to be the day you die!"
Tournneau knew they had perhaps minutes before they were overrun or the Borg adapted to the new hole in the side of the station. The readings on the tricorder were definitely not good - he was losing blood fast. However, besides his large intestine and his first liver, he didn't appear to have suffered any direct damage to his vital organs. There didn't seem to be any fragments from the blades or his suit present, either. "We're not going to leave you to these things, Korath."
The Klingon shook his head inside his helmet. He tried to push the Ensign off him, but the combination of the chest wounds and lack of O2 had taken its toll on him. His muscles refused to push Quinn away. His eyes rolled back, and with one last wisp of a voice said, "No.... G... Go...."
The tricorder beeped urgently and displayed its diagnosis.
SUBJECT: KLINGON MALE
[DIAGNOSIS]
SEVERE ABDOMINAL LACERATIONS
GASTRIC ORGAN DAMAGE
HYPOVOLEMIC SHOCK
HYPOXAEMIA
RECOMMENDATION -
[IMMEDIATE APPLICATION OF FTM-1 AND TRIOXIN]
[IMMEDIATE APPLICATION OF ANABOLIC PROTOPLASER]
Tournneau found the small canisters with the labels FTM-1 and Trioxin, and uncapped them. Field Trauma Mixture One was a combination of tranexamic acid to stop bleeding; dermaline gel to catalyze tissue regeneration; the powerful analgesic triptacederine; trinephedrine to counteract the shock from blood loss; and several anti-microbial agents. Trioxin was a compound that counteracted the effects of oxygen deprivation. It wasn't going to cure him, but it would at least keep him from bleeding out and keep him in one piece.
"OK, you might be a Klingon, but this is going to hurt at first."
Korath barely acknowledged the statement. A mixture of delirium and frustration flooding his thoughts.
Tournneau reached through the broken chestplate of the Klingon's suit and injected the canister of FTM-1 into the open wounds. Despite the lack of Oxygen, The Klingon did react to the treatment. his torso raising slightly as he let out a horrific moan mixed with a howl through grit teeth; forcing those able to hold him down. Tournneau tossed the empty canister aside. He ripped the protoplaser out of the case and quickly ran it over the wound. The bleeding subsided to a trickle as the tissues wove themselves into a hard, bloody knot of scar tissue under the red beam of the device.
Tournneau hastily replaced the medical gear, cramming the box shut and snapping it back on to his thigh. He removed a silver canister from his waist that contained a sealant foam and sprayed it onto the front of Korath's broken suit, smearing it across the damaged area with his other hand as it expanded and solidified. The telemetry from Korath's suit in Tournneau's visor stabilized, and just in time — he had lost nearly three-quarters of his oxygen supply. Derek wasn't too worried about that, however — he didn't plan on sticking around very much longer. Tournneau inserted the canister of Trioxin into a port on the back of Korath's suit, which infused his air with the agent.
"All right, Korath, are you with me?"
The drug filling his lungs and forcing them to open and take in large amounts of O2 brought the Klingon back to the here and now for the moment. Despite the fact his wounds were just holding together The Klingon tried to stand on his own power, but the trauma of the attack and the limited air supply while he was being treated had taken more of a toll than he cared to admit.
"Woah, there," Tournneau said as he placed one of Korath's massive arms over his shoulder. "The meds are keeping you stable and lucid, but you're still in critical condition. We're going to have to carry you out, sir."
Korath nodded and resigned himself to being aided back to the shuttle. "I gave you an order to leave Commander." The Klingon said with a barely perceptible grin on his face. Even he had to admit that Tournneau had done an excellent job under dire circumstances. For now however, the drugs kicking in made it hard for him to focus on the fact the entire away team had disregarded his orders to return to the shuttle. He simply focused on putting one boot in front of the other.
"I'm sorry, Commander - your suit must have had comms trouble when it was damaged," Derek said unconvincingly.
"I wasn't going to listen anyway," Elle said sincerely, as she slung the — perhaps nearly spent? — rifles over her shoulder, and crouched to help hoist the heavy Klingon up, and out with them. And although Korath still towered over her, Elle's six foot frame allowed her and Lt. Commander Tournneau to better balance the Klingon's mass between the two of them.
As the three of them moved toward the exit they'd made, Elle wanted to thank Tournneau — as well as express surprise at his field medic expertise. "Guess we don't need that EMH after all," she said, "Glad you knew how to be so... um, stabby with a hyposyringe back there."
Tournneau called over the comms, "Crew, exfil! We'll make contact with Revan (NPC) on the surface. Hopefully our comms can cut through out there."
Sirak glanced back at the Chief Engineer; it seemed they'd been able to get Korath stabilized and it was time to go. Luckily the creatures weren't pouring in as they had at first. Her eyes met her fellow security officer's and she nodded to him, indicating he should break off next. Once he had, the Vulcan continued firing as she walked backwards towards their exit.
Still providing covering fire along with Sirak and Greyman, Ba'el looked back toward her father and the others. "How is he, sir?" she asked Tournneau as he and Quinn helped the Klingon to his feet.
"If he were a human, he'd be dead. But he'll make it — if we make it."
"When. When we make it," Elle said, hoping to sound somehow both 'matter of fact' and emphatic about things. She couldn't decide.
Tournneau pivoted around under Korath to face backwards as they traversed the room and up the incline of the escape tunnel. He used his free arm to fire the phaser rifle at their pursuers. The flow of constructs seemed to wane a bit as well, but Derek had no intention on staying to find out how many were left. He continued firing with the others as they beat their retreat to the surface.
As they neared their escape route, Greyman paused and turned towards the other Derek, "Sir, perhaps we should bring one of these Borg robot-spiders with us for analysis. If we take a disabled one and use proper containment protocols it should be reasonably safe. It might help us figure out what happened here and if there are any complications we'd have something to study." His eyes glanced over to Korath briefly, not wanting to specifically state his concern regarding the Executive Officer.
As they marched onward, nearly there, Elle's mind mined a growing concern of hers, one that had already been gnawing away in the background of her brain, but had now taken center stage. Now that Korath was at least mobile — and now that there was hope of saving him.
With Korath lucid but lacking in awareness, stumbling on, draped between them, the first moment that Elle managed to catch Tournneau's eye, she whispered the words, "Do you think he's been... uh, Borged? That he's being —" She mouthed the last word in silence "— Assimilated?"
Then, at the very moment that word tumbled out into the air, one of the arachnid constructs that lay alongside their path — one thought "dead" or deactivated — lurched back up before them!
Tournneau caught the movement in the corner of his eye as he was looking over at Quinn. He swung his free arm behind him and shot the construct, blowing a hole straight through the cybernetic creature. "Agreed, Greyman — let's take that one. Should be offline now — at least, it had better be. And Quinn — we'll deal with that if it comes to it."
Elle looked over to Tournneau and nodded, solemnly. Then, with her phaser rifle pointing at the downed creature, she kicked at the construct with her feet... just to be sure.
Once Derek blew a hole through the Borgified robot spider, Greyman nodded, "That one, aye sir. I do believe you got it." The security officer knelt down and eyed it quickly before picking it up by two legs and swinging it over his shoulder. With only one free hand, he switched to a phaser rather than the phaser rifle he'd been using and continued firing.
As they reached the exit, Tournneau stopped about three meters out and set Korath's weight on Quinn for a moment.
"How do you want to proceed, Commander," Sirak asked calmly as she continued firing. The away mission had certainly taken some drastic turns from what most would consider 'normal', but the Vulcan knew that that was part of their job — to be prepared for whatever they might come up against. Now, though, it was time to get back.
"Just a moment," Tournneau said. He opened the service port on his rifle, pressed a few of the controls in sequence, and then threw the rifle overhand to the bottom of the shaft.
Tournneau grunted as he let the weapon loose, "Assimilate this, you bastards!"
He returned to Korath and Quinn and took Korath's rifle off of Quinn's back. He started them moving a bit faster, dragging Korath's feet through the powdery surface of the asteroid. "We're going to want to be a bit further on in about twenty seconds!"
Derek keyed the comms with his free hand. "Tournneau to Malinche..." Still no response. "Tournneau to Revan, do you copy?"
Although somewhat garbled, Revan's voice came in. "Sir, Revan here. What are those things? We lost contact and a bunch of...spiders...appeared around the shuttle. I hit the emergency take-off and I've been circling the pad to keep them off of the shuttle."
Tournneau continued firing at the constructs that were pursuing them across the surface. "Good work Revan — we're on the surface about two hundred meters from the docking port on a heading of three-twenty. I need you to close on our position for extraction, LZ will be hot."
"Understood, sir, heading your way."
Shortly after Revan signed off, the ground rocked beneath the feet of the away team, and a gout of superheated plasma and rock erupted from the escape tunnel behind them. The rock shrapnel shredded several of the constructs that had made it to the surface. The rifle that Tournneau had set on overload had dealt with whatever else was still in the data core, and the blast collapsed the escape tunnel that they had bored.
Elle felt a wave of mild relief as the edge of the shockwave from the explosive collapse of their escape tunnel reached them and began to ebb. Her thoughts touched briefly upon the tension between the thrill of discovery... and of burying what was best left behind. Ready to jump back behind its controls — and to feel more in control — Elle looked for the shuttle, and into the bleak "sky" of dark and dust above the asteroid.
The Machu Picchu swooped in from behind the away team, and stopped about five meters in front of them. Revan set the shuttle hovering half a meter above the surface with its rear door open.
Elle thought that had she been at the controls, she'd gave gotten the shuttle closer. Now was not the time for pride or to quibble however. Although she didn't see it herself, she could sense one of the cybernetic arachnids hot on their heels.
The team scrambled in, still firing at the constructs that remained. Tournneau and Quinn, the last ones on the surface, hefted Korath over the lip of the door and dragged him into the rear compartment.
Tournneau keyed his comms, "Revan, we're in — hit it!"
The shuttle lurched forward as Revan activated the thrusters. Were it not for the miracle of inertial dampening, the team would have been thrown out of the rear door; all they felt was a slight sway backwards. A construct that had gotten particularly close in the last moment was thrown clear by the rocket blast. Tournneau keyed the rear door shut as he stood from the deck.
"Maintain self-quarantine, keep your visors locked. We're going to have to go through screening when we get back to the Malinche." He turned to Quinn. "Why don't you give Revan a hand up front?"
Exhaling at last, after realizing she'd been holding her breath these last few seconds until Korath was safely aboard, Elle smiled, "I'll give old Darth more than a hand."
Korath raised his head slightly and saw the shuttle. Putting all his strength into getting to the open hatch as quickly as possible. He did his best to stand under his own power as much as possible to reduce the load on the two officers.
As Elle felt Korath making the effort to stand on his own two legs, she waited until he had some support from the shuttle wall, before making her way up front. "I knew you'd be A-OK, Korath — uh, sir. You've never looked better!" Elle said, inappropriately.
"Tournneau to Malinche." Now that they were clear of the asteroid, his comm signal was able to cut through the interference.
<< USS Malinche, Bridge >>
"This is the Malinche. What's your status, Commander?" Isabel was relieved to hear from the away team, but she waited anxiously to hear how they were. Based on the activity that the bridge had picked up from the outpost, they'd gotten the impression that things had not been going well. Of course, it was a good sign that they were hearing from them.
<< Outpost >>
"Lieutenant Commander Korath is injured, critical but stable. We need to be screened for contamination before disembarking. Have Medical set up a quarantine tent in the shuttlebay — we'll dock the rear hatch to it when we land."
<< USS Malinche, Bridge >>
Only one injury, albeit critical, was fairly good considering the circumstances. Isabel listened to Derek's assessment and nodded thoughtfully - his suggestions are what she would have insisted upon anyway. She didn't want to take any chances infecting the ship or crew with Borg technology. "I'll make sure Medical knows you're coming and is prepared. We'll get the shuttlebay quarantined immediately," she responded. "Were you able to retrieve any information?"
<< Outpost >>
"We retrieved the data, but we need to set up an isolated terminal. I don't want to plug it into the main computer. It seems like whatever the Borg presence did, it was using the base computer to take control of the outpost."
<< USS Malinche, Bridge >>
Isabel frowned; the idea of the Borg tech taking over the base computer was unsettling. "Agreed, Commander. Lieutenant Beladd (PNPC) can get a terminal ready to analyze the data. I'll have her get started on that while you undergo decontamination procedures. What about the outpost?"
<< Outpost >>
"The base is lost, Captain. I recommend destroying it, and everything on that rock. Immediately."
<< USS Malinche, Bridge >>
Given the situation, Isabel didn't see a way around it. Starfleet Intelligence might be inclined to keep it, but every ship or person who came into contact with it would be exposing themselves to the possibility of spreading it further. StarFleet Command might not be entirely happy either, but she had forewarned them that it could be a possibility. A necessity, even. "Once you're safely aboard, we'll move to a safer distance and destroy it. Unless there's anything else, Commander Tournneau, I'd suggest you get back to the ship now."
<< Outpost >>
Elle touched Revan on the shoulder as she moved to the pilot's station, "I'll take it from here. Nice work, Ms. Revan. Thank you for the... uh, lift back there." Then Elle glanced over her shoulder just in time to catch the words "quarantine" —
"Thanks for the pick up." — and to see Korath staggering to stay upright.
"Thanks for the pick-me-up even." Then Elle turned her attention to going full throttle, away from what would soon be rubble.
"I know we all sure could use one...."
OFF:
JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer & Second Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Warrant Officer 2nd Class Revan Loril (NPC)
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Ensign Ba'el (PNPC)
and
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Lieutenant Derek Greyman (PNPC)
& Lieutenant Sirak (NPC)
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/red/0.png)
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
OFF: This is a backpost
<<USS Malinche, Bridge, Day 12, 1535>>
Lt. Cdr. Darvetti (PNPC) was looking at Lt. Beladd (PNPC) expectantly for an answer. Viradia turned to her console and examined the readings. "I'm still having difficulties pinpointing an exact source of the signal. If I were to engage in speculation, I'd guess that the signal was some sort of control carrier, or an all-clear beacon. Perhaps it is a constant check to see if there are any unintended changes in their systems. Over time, we have been able to see that there are some areas of greater signal concentration, but we are still unable to detect anything that may be responsible for that."
Aniela nodded thoughtfully as she listed to Viradia's idea. "So you're thinking it's actually Federation in origin, rather than Borg? Or do you mean it's a Borg signal that's checking the Federation systems to see if they've regained control of the Outpost? If it is Borg, then perhaps the areas with greater signal concentration would indicate where the nanoprobes are concentrating their efforts...or areas they're trying to safeguard from our personnel?"
Viradia frowned. "No, it's certainly not Federation in origin, although the Borg presence seems to be using the remains of our technology on the base. The concentrations could be nanoprobes, nodes - or even dormant drones. It's impossible to tell at this point."
"It would make sense that they would assimilate our technology and adapt it for themselves," Aniela mused. "It seems unlikely that full drones would be there, unless the outpost crew had been assimilated or they brought some kind of craft aboard that had a drone on it, but with an outpost this size, I doubt that's they would bring something that large aboard, especially without notifying anyone."
On the surface, Viradia was doing her best to convey a sense of calm and placidity. In truth, however, she was feeling very anxious about the whole situation, particularly that her commanding officer and best friend was trapped on the ground in the middle of it. She had faced mortal perils before in her Starfleet career - she had lost a few friends in the line of duty - but always against astronomical phenomena, not against a defined and thinking enemy. Having taken a post on a tactical vessel, she knew it was inevitable of course; nevertheless, it was very disconcerting in the moment.
Viradia came up to the Science officer's station and leaned close to Darvetti's ear. "Erm, excuse me ma'am, but do you know why the Captain has vacated the Bridge?"
Lowering her voice as she glanced over at Viradia, Aniela replied, "I'm afraid I'm not sure. Normally she would want to continue monitoring the situation, but perhaps she needed a moment for herself. I imagine the situation probably brings back memories from when her husband was assimilated years ago...and now here he is again, on an away team with a Borg threat. I can't say for certain though."
"Perhaps she is apprising Starfleet Command of the situation? Yes, that must be it," Viradia agreed with herself. Despite her efforts to calm herself, she still found the sudden rank vacuum on the ship to be disconcerting. At this point, she was the second ranking officer on the bridge. Perhaps it was a racial stereotype, but it was one that Viradia lived up to - the Bolian need for the team.
Nodding, Aniela replied, "Yes, that does make sense. Although I would think she could have done that from the bridge... Regardless, I'm sure Captain Kersare will be back on the bridge shortly." She glanced down at her station, frowning, before adding, "Do you have any ideas on how we could find out more about the signal with the information we have now, or do you think we'll need to wait for the away team? With the Borg tech mixed in with our own, it may be difficult to separate the two or analyze it further without information directly from the source. And if the Borg part of the signal doesn't match anything in our databases on them, even then it will take time."
Viradia stepped back to her console and examined the readings from the forward sensor array. She shook her head in quiet frustration. "There's really no way to determine anything more unless we either spend more time gathering enough data for the computer to make something of it, or we provoke the Borg presence enough so that the signal becomes more active. Both options are less than ideal."
"Maybe we'll get more--" Aniela didn't have a chance to finish her sentence. A notification and steady beeping sounded from the console, causing the Chief Science Officer to raise an eyebrow. Leaning in, she read the alert before looking over at Viradia, "Be careful what you wish for...it looks like the signal has increased. I'm guessing the away team did something to trigger it. This may be our chance to find out more."
Viradia studied the readings on her terminal. "I'm detecting broadband EM and subspace emissions as well - our sensors can't see anything within five hundred kilometers of the outpost!" Viradia was beginning to feel quite agitated now. She keyed the ship's comms. "Beladd to Away Team....Beladd to Korath...Beladd to Tournneau..." This was not good. She turned to Darvetti. "Commander, there's no contact with the Away Team either - no comms and I've lost their telemetry."
Aniela shivered slightly, disturbed that they had lost contact. Her mind raced as she tried to decide what they should do, but luckily the ready room doors swished open and Isabel returned to the bridge. Turning towards the Commanding Officer, she said, "Captain, we just noticed an increase in the Borg signal from the Outpost.There's also broadband EM and subspace emissions...and I'm afraid we've lost contact with the away team."
Taking in their current situation, Isabel made her way over to the console Aniela and Viradia were at. She quickly read the display as she considered their options. Turning towards the two women, she said, "See what you can do to get through the interference and re-establish communications. We need to get them back as soon as possible. Flight Control - bring us in a little closer, at one quarter impulse power, to see if that helps. Maintain standard safety distance for now."
"Aye, Captain," Viradia responded. She continued to work on the interference. It was very frustrating - just at it seemed she got through the pattern, it would shift. The activity level continued to increase.
Several minutes later, the comm crackled to life. "...nneau to Malinche."
Viradia felt as if her stomach leapt into her throat. "Ma'am! We have the away team again." The telemetry started coming in - they were aboard the shuttle and heading away from the asteroid at full impulse.
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Viradia Beladd (PNPC)
played by: Lt Cmdr Tournneau
and
Lieutenant Commander Aniela Darvetti (PNPC)
played by: Captain Kersare
and
<<USS Malinche, Bridge, Day 12, 1535>>
Lt. Cdr. Darvetti (PNPC) was looking at Lt. Beladd (PNPC) expectantly for an answer. Viradia turned to her console and examined the readings. "I'm still having difficulties pinpointing an exact source of the signal. If I were to engage in speculation, I'd guess that the signal was some sort of control carrier, or an all-clear beacon. Perhaps it is a constant check to see if there are any unintended changes in their systems. Over time, we have been able to see that there are some areas of greater signal concentration, but we are still unable to detect anything that may be responsible for that."
Aniela nodded thoughtfully as she listed to Viradia's idea. "So you're thinking it's actually Federation in origin, rather than Borg? Or do you mean it's a Borg signal that's checking the Federation systems to see if they've regained control of the Outpost? If it is Borg, then perhaps the areas with greater signal concentration would indicate where the nanoprobes are concentrating their efforts...or areas they're trying to safeguard from our personnel?"
Viradia frowned. "No, it's certainly not Federation in origin, although the Borg presence seems to be using the remains of our technology on the base. The concentrations could be nanoprobes, nodes - or even dormant drones. It's impossible to tell at this point."
"It would make sense that they would assimilate our technology and adapt it for themselves," Aniela mused. "It seems unlikely that full drones would be there, unless the outpost crew had been assimilated or they brought some kind of craft aboard that had a drone on it, but with an outpost this size, I doubt that's they would bring something that large aboard, especially without notifying anyone."
On the surface, Viradia was doing her best to convey a sense of calm and placidity. In truth, however, she was feeling very anxious about the whole situation, particularly that her commanding officer and best friend was trapped on the ground in the middle of it. She had faced mortal perils before in her Starfleet career - she had lost a few friends in the line of duty - but always against astronomical phenomena, not against a defined and thinking enemy. Having taken a post on a tactical vessel, she knew it was inevitable of course; nevertheless, it was very disconcerting in the moment.
Viradia came up to the Science officer's station and leaned close to Darvetti's ear. "Erm, excuse me ma'am, but do you know why the Captain has vacated the Bridge?"
Lowering her voice as she glanced over at Viradia, Aniela replied, "I'm afraid I'm not sure. Normally she would want to continue monitoring the situation, but perhaps she needed a moment for herself. I imagine the situation probably brings back memories from when her husband was assimilated years ago...and now here he is again, on an away team with a Borg threat. I can't say for certain though."
"Perhaps she is apprising Starfleet Command of the situation? Yes, that must be it," Viradia agreed with herself. Despite her efforts to calm herself, she still found the sudden rank vacuum on the ship to be disconcerting. At this point, she was the second ranking officer on the bridge. Perhaps it was a racial stereotype, but it was one that Viradia lived up to - the Bolian need for the team.
Nodding, Aniela replied, "Yes, that does make sense. Although I would think she could have done that from the bridge... Regardless, I'm sure Captain Kersare will be back on the bridge shortly." She glanced down at her station, frowning, before adding, "Do you have any ideas on how we could find out more about the signal with the information we have now, or do you think we'll need to wait for the away team? With the Borg tech mixed in with our own, it may be difficult to separate the two or analyze it further without information directly from the source. And if the Borg part of the signal doesn't match anything in our databases on them, even then it will take time."
Viradia stepped back to her console and examined the readings from the forward sensor array. She shook her head in quiet frustration. "There's really no way to determine anything more unless we either spend more time gathering enough data for the computer to make something of it, or we provoke the Borg presence enough so that the signal becomes more active. Both options are less than ideal."
"Maybe we'll get more--" Aniela didn't have a chance to finish her sentence. A notification and steady beeping sounded from the console, causing the Chief Science Officer to raise an eyebrow. Leaning in, she read the alert before looking over at Viradia, "Be careful what you wish for...it looks like the signal has increased. I'm guessing the away team did something to trigger it. This may be our chance to find out more."
Viradia studied the readings on her terminal. "I'm detecting broadband EM and subspace emissions as well - our sensors can't see anything within five hundred kilometers of the outpost!" Viradia was beginning to feel quite agitated now. She keyed the ship's comms. "Beladd to Away Team....Beladd to Korath...Beladd to Tournneau..." This was not good. She turned to Darvetti. "Commander, there's no contact with the Away Team either - no comms and I've lost their telemetry."
Aniela shivered slightly, disturbed that they had lost contact. Her mind raced as she tried to decide what they should do, but luckily the ready room doors swished open and Isabel returned to the bridge. Turning towards the Commanding Officer, she said, "Captain, we just noticed an increase in the Borg signal from the Outpost.There's also broadband EM and subspace emissions...and I'm afraid we've lost contact with the away team."
Taking in their current situation, Isabel made her way over to the console Aniela and Viradia were at. She quickly read the display as she considered their options. Turning towards the two women, she said, "See what you can do to get through the interference and re-establish communications. We need to get them back as soon as possible. Flight Control - bring us in a little closer, at one quarter impulse power, to see if that helps. Maintain standard safety distance for now."
"Aye, Captain," Viradia responded. She continued to work on the interference. It was very frustrating - just at it seemed she got through the pattern, it would shift. The activity level continued to increase.
Several minutes later, the comm crackled to life. "...nneau to Malinche."
Viradia felt as if her stomach leapt into her throat. "Ma'am! We have the away team again." The telemetry started coming in - they were aboard the shuttle and heading away from the asteroid at full impulse.
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Viradia Beladd (PNPC)
played by: Lt Cmdr Tournneau
and
Lieutenant Commander Aniela Darvetti (PNPC)
played by: Captain Kersare
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/images/rcapt.jpg)
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<< USS Malinche | Sickbay | Mission Day 14 | 1920 hours >>
Korath lay in the bio bed staring at the ceiling. The frustration at being cooped up in sickbay was taking its toll on the Klingon. He was glad to be alive and not a drone; but any longer in this bed and he would begin to wish he had died in combat rather than boredom.The constant beeping of the medical monitors was grating on his nerves. He was about to rip the monitoring device from his body when the doors to sickbay opened. He stopped and looked at the curious distraction.
Elle hadn't expected to find Korath awake already. The medical personnel she'd spoken to seemed adamant that the Klingon receive no visitors — let alone those who had also only recently been released from quarantine. Lucky for Elle — this time at least — she didn't pay much mind to orders she disagreed with.
She forced a teeth-bearing smile at Korath. She looked around the sickbay. It was a little less angular than the rest of the ship's interior — certainly by design. Less harsh. Softer. Et cetera. Et cetera. Elle was never too fond of doctors — a carryover from a stubborn childhood grudge she'd formed, because of their inability to allow her father to stave off death, and to win the fight against a failing heart.
"You're late... uh, sir," Elle said. Then she pointed her thumb toward the door, "I've already got a HoloDeck booked for the Battle of Qam-Chee, round II."
The Klingon laughed at that. It was a mistake he later regretted. His insides were still being held together by bailing wire and a curious substance known as duct tape; at least that was according to one of the med techs that had checked his vitals this morning. Whatever the strange materials were, he did not argue. It felt as though his inner workings were holding together just barely at this point. "No doubt Molar's troops will need a good trouncing," Korath replied. "However, it would appear that I will be a guest of the doctors a little longer," he said, with a look of frustration on his face.
She was glad to hear Korath laugh, though the pain it caused the Klingon curbed her own rising, nervous laughter. "Ha — ah, uh... better safe than sorry, I guess," Elle said. "Do you... you know, feel any different? They're sure no nanobots are creeping around inside? I mean, I'm obviously, logically, not one to doubt a medical professional or anything, but in our ancient past, there was so much 'treatment' that at times did as much harm as good, you know? And sometimes it made things a lot worse. They used to use these creatures called "leeches" to drain your blood. Bloodletting. But of course, a ton of the time, that person would still... you know —" Elle stuck her tongue out, closed her eyes, and cocked her head to the side, pantomiming someone dying.
Then, realizing she had started to make herself sad, and that in so doing she was likely *not* lifting the spirits of their recovering First Officer, she changed the subject. "And I don't know about you, but I'd never seen anything like those spider-drones at the Outpost. Maybe the Borg have taken the next step, and adapted to our previous methods of scanning for them? I mean, Ba'el (PNPC) must be worried sick, no? I haven't seen her since...."
"I feel fine, despite being cooped up in this gods forsaken sickbay when there are duties to perform!" The Klingon growled more at the surroundings than at the Ensign. "As for the drones. I have not. More than likely the drones were assimilated from some sort of indigenous life form found on or near the station. However the sheer numbers and the tactics used does pose some concerns."
"Better to recover, than to rest in peace for good, you know what I mean?" Elle asked... before thinking she should have immediately taken the statement back, in light of the Klingons' attitude toward facing, even embracing death with eyes open, as long as it was an honorable exit. So, she took a different tact then, somewhat, "Unless it's... you know, the right time. I mean, Dad drove himself into an early grave back when I was a kid. Mom and I rarely saw him outside of the lab, or the classroom. That's probably why I started bugging him in there, haha," she said.
Then she paused.... "Do you think there are more of those spider drones? I mean, if the lifeforms assimilated were sentient, these new Borg could have made it off of the station somehow, no? Before we stumbled upon them? Were they just lying in wait?" Or was she just being paranoid?
"It's possible," the Klingon replied; for the moment, ignoring the advice about not going to an early grave. "It is more likely those drones were some kind of worker. Given the lack of humanoid bodies and the size of the facility. It is possible the Borg used the creatures to get into places normal humanoid drones wouldn't have the mobility to get into. As for early 'graves' Klingons are more resilient than you might think. It would take more than a few stab wounds to seriously harm a warrior," he said.
It was partially true. The damage done was severe enough to threaten his life. It was true that the injuries would have instantly killed a human. However, he did not boast to make these facts known. He did so in order to put the Ensign at ease. "You would not be rid of me that easily," Korath said finally.
"Too bad," Elle answered, smiling. She could not help but laugh a little too. After learning (belatedly) that Kinkaid had had to address sudden and serious family matters with his sister, Elle was better able to process his likewise sudden absence. She was finally able to put their burgeoning... well, whatever it was, in stasis. Only then to confront the notion of the only other person aboard with whom she'd developed even a tenuous bond... possibly dying?
On cue, just then the door to sickbay slid open. Elle had probably overstepped her bounds in visiting their still ailing Klingon X.O. so soon, as it felt like she herself had only just escaped quarantine. She did see Doctor Bateson flitting about earlier, but the counselor specialized in issues of Temporal Displacement, so she didn't expect him to have any objection. And the EMH hadn't popped up to prevent her from seeing Korath. Perhaps the Klingon was in the clear?
Or perhaps, it was all far, far worse....
OFF:
JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
<< USS Malinche | Sickbay | Mission Day 14 | 1920 hours >>
Korath lay in the bio bed staring at the ceiling. The frustration at being cooped up in sickbay was taking its toll on the Klingon. He was glad to be alive and not a drone; but any longer in this bed and he would begin to wish he had died in combat rather than boredom.The constant beeping of the medical monitors was grating on his nerves. He was about to rip the monitoring device from his body when the doors to sickbay opened. He stopped and looked at the curious distraction.
Elle hadn't expected to find Korath awake already. The medical personnel she'd spoken to seemed adamant that the Klingon receive no visitors — let alone those who had also only recently been released from quarantine. Lucky for Elle — this time at least — she didn't pay much mind to orders she disagreed with.
She forced a teeth-bearing smile at Korath. She looked around the sickbay. It was a little less angular than the rest of the ship's interior — certainly by design. Less harsh. Softer. Et cetera. Et cetera. Elle was never too fond of doctors — a carryover from a stubborn childhood grudge she'd formed, because of their inability to allow her father to stave off death, and to win the fight against a failing heart.
"You're late... uh, sir," Elle said. Then she pointed her thumb toward the door, "I've already got a HoloDeck booked for the Battle of Qam-Chee, round II."
The Klingon laughed at that. It was a mistake he later regretted. His insides were still being held together by bailing wire and a curious substance known as duct tape; at least that was according to one of the med techs that had checked his vitals this morning. Whatever the strange materials were, he did not argue. It felt as though his inner workings were holding together just barely at this point. "No doubt Molar's troops will need a good trouncing," Korath replied. "However, it would appear that I will be a guest of the doctors a little longer," he said, with a look of frustration on his face.
She was glad to hear Korath laugh, though the pain it caused the Klingon curbed her own rising, nervous laughter. "Ha — ah, uh... better safe than sorry, I guess," Elle said. "Do you... you know, feel any different? They're sure no nanobots are creeping around inside? I mean, I'm obviously, logically, not one to doubt a medical professional or anything, but in our ancient past, there was so much 'treatment' that at times did as much harm as good, you know? And sometimes it made things a lot worse. They used to use these creatures called "leeches" to drain your blood. Bloodletting. But of course, a ton of the time, that person would still... you know —" Elle stuck her tongue out, closed her eyes, and cocked her head to the side, pantomiming someone dying.
Then, realizing she had started to make herself sad, and that in so doing she was likely *not* lifting the spirits of their recovering First Officer, she changed the subject. "And I don't know about you, but I'd never seen anything like those spider-drones at the Outpost. Maybe the Borg have taken the next step, and adapted to our previous methods of scanning for them? I mean, Ba'el (PNPC) must be worried sick, no? I haven't seen her since...."
"I feel fine, despite being cooped up in this gods forsaken sickbay when there are duties to perform!" The Klingon growled more at the surroundings than at the Ensign. "As for the drones. I have not. More than likely the drones were assimilated from some sort of indigenous life form found on or near the station. However the sheer numbers and the tactics used does pose some concerns."
"Better to recover, than to rest in peace for good, you know what I mean?" Elle asked... before thinking she should have immediately taken the statement back, in light of the Klingons' attitude toward facing, even embracing death with eyes open, as long as it was an honorable exit. So, she took a different tact then, somewhat, "Unless it's... you know, the right time. I mean, Dad drove himself into an early grave back when I was a kid. Mom and I rarely saw him outside of the lab, or the classroom. That's probably why I started bugging him in there, haha," she said.
Then she paused.... "Do you think there are more of those spider drones? I mean, if the lifeforms assimilated were sentient, these new Borg could have made it off of the station somehow, no? Before we stumbled upon them? Were they just lying in wait?" Or was she just being paranoid?
"It's possible," the Klingon replied; for the moment, ignoring the advice about not going to an early grave. "It is more likely those drones were some kind of worker. Given the lack of humanoid bodies and the size of the facility. It is possible the Borg used the creatures to get into places normal humanoid drones wouldn't have the mobility to get into. As for early 'graves' Klingons are more resilient than you might think. It would take more than a few stab wounds to seriously harm a warrior," he said.
It was partially true. The damage done was severe enough to threaten his life. It was true that the injuries would have instantly killed a human. However, he did not boast to make these facts known. He did so in order to put the Ensign at ease. "You would not be rid of me that easily," Korath said finally.
"Too bad," Elle answered, smiling. She could not help but laugh a little too. After learning (belatedly) that Kinkaid had had to address sudden and serious family matters with his sister, Elle was better able to process his likewise sudden absence. She was finally able to put their burgeoning... well, whatever it was, in stasis. Only then to confront the notion of the only other person aboard with whom she'd developed even a tenuous bond... possibly dying?
On cue, just then the door to sickbay slid open. Elle had probably overstepped her bounds in visiting their still ailing Klingon X.O. so soon, as it felt like she herself had only just escaped quarantine. She did see Doctor Bateson flitting about earlier, but the counselor specialized in issues of Temporal Displacement, so she didn't expect him to have any objection. And the EMH hadn't popped up to prevent her from seeing Korath. Perhaps the Klingon was in the clear?
Or perhaps, it was all far, far worse....
OFF:
JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/red/0.png)
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
OFF: This is a Backpost.
ON:
<< Shuttlecraft Machu Picchu | In Transit from Outpost Beta 12 | Mission Day 12 | 1659 hours >>
Elle flew a little faster than necessary, and in so doing almost certainly took the Machu Picchu a little too close to — and through — the belt of asteroids for the comfort of those aboard. Some might have even called it reckless. Not that it mattered much to Elle — not after it gained them some time. Her primary concern was getting the Away Team back aboard the Malinche ASAP. And for things like that to happen, you had to be a bit reckless. Years ago, she lost her father by not acting quickly enough. And in a way — albeit a far, far different way — she'd just lost Cade by not acting on her feelings. So there was no way would she let Korath die because of something she didn't do.
Elle even skidded the shuttle back into the hangar bay, as she landed, fishtailing. On the surface, it seemed an unnecessary flourish, but it positioned the Machu Picchu so that the medical personnel there to "greet" them could more easily drag Korath to sickbay. Seconds counted after all. Immediately angling the shuttle just so had another unintended effect, however. Now that they were safely aboard, Elle could see the base being bombarded by phaser fire. Captain Kersare had given the word. It was a brief flash that birthed a halo of rock, radiating outward. Then, just as quickly as the explosion had swelled, suddenly all that was left of it was a fading point of light where Outpost Beta-12 had once been. An ember. The sight reminded her of the twentieth century entertainment that had so gripped her people back then — but of a TV finally being turned off for the night. The End.
The Malinche destroyed the outpost from a distance, but the base had already been destroyed from within. Elle’s brow furrowed, and her face became flushed. Had intra-crew romantic relations compromised the outpost's safety and its mission? Had it made them more vulnerable to the Borg? Had Outpost Beta 12’s personnel taken unnecessary risks to ease the loneliness of their lot? And had things gone a certain way with Douglas Kinkaid, would Elle and Cade have also put the lives of others at risk for something selfish, and perhaps foolish? Then she looked back at Korath — the only other person aboard apart from Cade, who seemed not at all put out by Elle's difficulty with words — and dismissed her doubts.
The Klingon had stood bravely between the Borg and the Away Team — sacrificing himself for his comrades’ safety. Although Elle and Tournneau immediately rushed to the Klingon's aid, he'd already taken the brunt of the blows meant for them. Still, they made certain they left no one behind. Looking out for one's fellow man was always first recourse. Elle was glad she had learned that lesson long ago. Thankful even. Today of all days too, when lives depended upon it. Elle was secretly glad that she'd always go with the moral imperative over the Prime Directive, if ever she had to choose.
As the medical crew rushed the shuttle, establishing quarantine procedures, Elle let her mind wander with worry. Were quarantine fields sufficient? With Korath's injuries, might the Borg have begun assimilating him in secret somehow? Would Styrolite be needed? Was the Away Team “infectious" in a traditional sense? Were the Borg drones they encountered different? They seemed to be. The battle had been only her fourth face-to-face live combat, and though Elle had acquitted herself well, with a number of well-placed shots, she knew they’d been both good and lucky to make their escape. She just hoped their collective luck would last....
OFF:
ON:
<< Shuttlecraft Machu Picchu | In Transit from Outpost Beta 12 | Mission Day 12 | 1659 hours >>
Elle flew a little faster than necessary, and in so doing almost certainly took the Machu Picchu a little too close to — and through — the belt of asteroids for the comfort of those aboard. Some might have even called it reckless. Not that it mattered much to Elle — not after it gained them some time. Her primary concern was getting the Away Team back aboard the Malinche ASAP. And for things like that to happen, you had to be a bit reckless. Years ago, she lost her father by not acting quickly enough. And in a way — albeit a far, far different way — she'd just lost Cade by not acting on her feelings. So there was no way would she let Korath die because of something she didn't do.
Elle even skidded the shuttle back into the hangar bay, as she landed, fishtailing. On the surface, it seemed an unnecessary flourish, but it positioned the Machu Picchu so that the medical personnel there to "greet" them could more easily drag Korath to sickbay. Seconds counted after all. Immediately angling the shuttle just so had another unintended effect, however. Now that they were safely aboard, Elle could see the base being bombarded by phaser fire. Captain Kersare had given the word. It was a brief flash that birthed a halo of rock, radiating outward. Then, just as quickly as the explosion had swelled, suddenly all that was left of it was a fading point of light where Outpost Beta-12 had once been. An ember. The sight reminded her of the twentieth century entertainment that had so gripped her people back then — but of a TV finally being turned off for the night. The End.
The Malinche destroyed the outpost from a distance, but the base had already been destroyed from within. Elle’s brow furrowed, and her face became flushed. Had intra-crew romantic relations compromised the outpost's safety and its mission? Had it made them more vulnerable to the Borg? Had Outpost Beta 12’s personnel taken unnecessary risks to ease the loneliness of their lot? And had things gone a certain way with Douglas Kinkaid, would Elle and Cade have also put the lives of others at risk for something selfish, and perhaps foolish? Then she looked back at Korath — the only other person aboard apart from Cade, who seemed not at all put out by Elle's difficulty with words — and dismissed her doubts.
The Klingon had stood bravely between the Borg and the Away Team — sacrificing himself for his comrades’ safety. Although Elle and Tournneau immediately rushed to the Klingon's aid, he'd already taken the brunt of the blows meant for them. Still, they made certain they left no one behind. Looking out for one's fellow man was always first recourse. Elle was glad she had learned that lesson long ago. Thankful even. Today of all days too, when lives depended upon it. Elle was secretly glad that she'd always go with the moral imperative over the Prime Directive, if ever she had to choose.
As the medical crew rushed the shuttle, establishing quarantine procedures, Elle let her mind wander with worry. Were quarantine fields sufficient? With Korath's injuries, might the Borg have begun assimilating him in secret somehow? Would Styrolite be needed? Was the Away Team “infectious" in a traditional sense? Were the Borg drones they encountered different? They seemed to be. The battle had been only her fourth face-to-face live combat, and though Elle had acquitted herself well, with a number of well-placed shots, she knew they’d been both good and lucky to make their escape. She just hoped their collective luck would last....
OFF:
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/red/0.png)
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<< USS Malinche | Sickbay | Mission Day 14 | 1931 hours >>
"How much longer must I endure this foul sickbay!?" the Klingon asked, seeing one of the medical staff enter the room, finally. It mattered little to him weather or not that person was the CMO or not. All he cared about was to be released back to duty. The Klingon sat up with a determined look on his face, "I assure you, I am more than fit for duty."
Isabel walked into sickbay and was immediately drawn to Korath's biobed by his not so quiet voice. Half chuckling to herself, she regained her composure as she walked over to him and nodded at the nurse. "Evening, Commander. You seem to be doing well, considering the reports I heard."
"Captain," the Klingon acknowledged with a nod, as he sat up. "Reports of my injuries have been... exaggerated. I have been telling the doctors I am ready to resume my duties. They, however, appear to enjoy testing my resolve." He let the last sentence come out with a slight growl.
"Sir!" Elle stood at attention when the Captain walked in, and she didn't let her posture relax until Korath had begun to protest his continued confinement to rest and recovery. "I wasn't trying to spring him early, I swear. And since the Away Team cleared quarantine, I was just checking in on the patient — he did put himself between us and those drones. Not sure we all would've gotten out of there if he hadn't, to be honest. Just glad he got out too."
Then Elle leaned in, almost conspiratorially, "And with rumor traveling fast, I just wanted to see for myself that those... uh, Borgachnids? Those... *things* didn't somehow start the assimilation process on the sly."
Isabel nodded, "I'm very glad our team made it out intact. From the sounds of it, some quick thinking and the actions of team members were crucial to that. Unfortunately we weren't able to help the outpost crew, but we are going to study the information we gathered as well as the Borg...construct you brought back. Perhaps they'll provide some answers." Turning to Korath, she added, "I'll speak with the medical staff, Commander, but they'll have final say on how long you need to remain here."
"I would... appreciate it sir," the Klingon said, his large frame fidgeting in the bio bed.
Elle nodded. She often felt restless regardless of the situation at hand. Being confined to sickbay would have felt like being grounded as a child.
Lt. Cdr. Tournneau tugged at his collar as he walked down the corridor towards sick bay. After having been crammed in a decon chamber with the away team for thirty-six hours, he was happy to have been released early this morning. After a solitary night's sleep and a proper shower, he was happy to be back in a clean uniform. He was carrying a PADD with the engineering team's findings on the recovered Borg probe. Perhaps creature was a more fitting term. He had been down to the engineering lab to see it personally and speak with Ms. Beladd regarding her findings. While their findings were far from conclusive, at least there was a little insight gained in this strange scenario.
Tournneau entered the sick bay and was surprised to find the Captain and Quinn there as well. "Good - erm, evening, is it - Captain; Elle. How's our favorite Klingon recovering?"
"Better than the medical staff would lead you to believe. I am... anxious to return to my duties," the Klingon repeated his previous complaints for the benefit of the Commander.
"Sir," Elle answered Tournneau's greeting, along with a nod.
Looking from one away team member to the next, Isabel hesitated slightly before speaking. They would have to have an official debriefing, but perhaps something a bit more informal for the time being wouldn't be a bad idea. "We'll have a debriefing in the morning, but is there anything in particular that stood out to any of you or that you feel is important to pass on sooner rather than later?"
Elle leaned forward, picking up on the Captain's body language. Had there been some kind of discovery?
The doors opened behind the captain. A young half-Klingon appeared, just as the question was put to the assembled Away Team members. "If I may captain, I believe the Borg influence at the facility is not part of the Borg collective's actions. Perhaps the Nano probes were malfunctioning. They should have assimilated the crew. Instead, the crew died from asphyxiation," Ba'el (PNPC) offered a preliminary theory.
"Wait. Wow, you're right," Elle said, eyes widening — but she didn't want to get ahead of herself. "Could we have just found a new way of stopping the Borg? Maybe once and for all! For good." Elle pounded a fist into the palm of her other hand. "I mean, if whatever caused the nano-probes to malfunction could be isolated... duplicated! This could be big, right? *Massive* even."
*And* she got ahead of herself. Too late now though. Imagined windows of possibility had already opened.
Tournneau handed his PADD to Kersare. "If you take a look at the preliminary findings, it does seem to support at least part of Ba'el's theory - the nanoprobes did not appear to be communicating outside of the facility. So far, there appears not to be a subspace transponder within the creature's structure. Long-range scanners and the deep-space network also show no signs of transwarp incursions.
"Whether this is an aberration or an evolution in Borg tactics is still unclear. Certainly, much of Borg technology is non-organic, but we have not seen them operate in a purely synthetic environment before. Particle spectrometry of the assimilated probe does show a residual biological signature, but we are unable to determine whether this is actually a part of the creature or if it is simply the remains of the station crew after having been - well - killed by it."
Tournneau shook his head uneasily. "The probe was pretty badly damaged when we terminated it. We'll be able to make a better determination once some of the deep-level scans complete. The crew have been throwing everything our department has at this thing, and I'll be overseeing the effort from here on out."
Though the notion of being rendered so much a part of something else against your will — so much an *Other* that only a "residual biological signature" remained — caused her to shudder slightly, Elle said nothing.
"More than likely the Nano probes' erratic functionality was due to an attempt to fulfill their primary function without direct instruction from the collective consciousness. However, it may be worth looking into," Korath replied.
Isabel listened quietly as the others spoke, mulling over her own thoughts. "Let's not jump to conclusions before we look into it further. Keep in mind that usually nanoprobes are injected directly into a person to assimilate them... These seemed to have been on or within debris that the crew recovered. Perhaps these particular nano probes simply adapted themselves to work solely with machines and that's why they killed in the manner they did..."
Tournneau spoke up again. "At any rate, all of the nanoprobes in the probe were irreparably damaged. Decon has shown no signatures, and damage control has done a full sweep of the ship."
Elle exhaled audibly. Knowing her own Decon results had already provided some relief, but hearing that a full sweep of the Malinche had yielded no sign of further Borg... infestation... was good news.
"That being the case, it would. Still. Be prudent to secure the remaining pieces of the probe behind a level 3 containment field; if for no other purpose but to restrict access to the probe to the research team and the senior staff. " The less foot traffic they had walking through the research lab until they determined more information; the better in his mind.
Elle smiled to herself and nodded, quelling her own paranoia. Because in many ways, it was... exciting? Here she had been these past first weeks aboard, wrapped up in personal worries... and perhaps selfish goals. And now, out of loss and another near tragedy — however selfless the sacrifice would have been, there emerged some good news, and potential greater good. Her transfer to the Malinche was working out better than she had hoped....
OFF:
A Joint Post by:
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Ensign Ba'el (PNPC)
and
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
<< USS Malinche | Sickbay | Mission Day 14 | 1931 hours >>
"How much longer must I endure this foul sickbay!?" the Klingon asked, seeing one of the medical staff enter the room, finally. It mattered little to him weather or not that person was the CMO or not. All he cared about was to be released back to duty. The Klingon sat up with a determined look on his face, "I assure you, I am more than fit for duty."
Isabel walked into sickbay and was immediately drawn to Korath's biobed by his not so quiet voice. Half chuckling to herself, she regained her composure as she walked over to him and nodded at the nurse. "Evening, Commander. You seem to be doing well, considering the reports I heard."
"Captain," the Klingon acknowledged with a nod, as he sat up. "Reports of my injuries have been... exaggerated. I have been telling the doctors I am ready to resume my duties. They, however, appear to enjoy testing my resolve." He let the last sentence come out with a slight growl.
"Sir!" Elle stood at attention when the Captain walked in, and she didn't let her posture relax until Korath had begun to protest his continued confinement to rest and recovery. "I wasn't trying to spring him early, I swear. And since the Away Team cleared quarantine, I was just checking in on the patient — he did put himself between us and those drones. Not sure we all would've gotten out of there if he hadn't, to be honest. Just glad he got out too."
Then Elle leaned in, almost conspiratorially, "And with rumor traveling fast, I just wanted to see for myself that those... uh, Borgachnids? Those... *things* didn't somehow start the assimilation process on the sly."
Isabel nodded, "I'm very glad our team made it out intact. From the sounds of it, some quick thinking and the actions of team members were crucial to that. Unfortunately we weren't able to help the outpost crew, but we are going to study the information we gathered as well as the Borg...construct you brought back. Perhaps they'll provide some answers." Turning to Korath, she added, "I'll speak with the medical staff, Commander, but they'll have final say on how long you need to remain here."
"I would... appreciate it sir," the Klingon said, his large frame fidgeting in the bio bed.
Elle nodded. She often felt restless regardless of the situation at hand. Being confined to sickbay would have felt like being grounded as a child.
Lt. Cdr. Tournneau tugged at his collar as he walked down the corridor towards sick bay. After having been crammed in a decon chamber with the away team for thirty-six hours, he was happy to have been released early this morning. After a solitary night's sleep and a proper shower, he was happy to be back in a clean uniform. He was carrying a PADD with the engineering team's findings on the recovered Borg probe. Perhaps creature was a more fitting term. He had been down to the engineering lab to see it personally and speak with Ms. Beladd regarding her findings. While their findings were far from conclusive, at least there was a little insight gained in this strange scenario.
Tournneau entered the sick bay and was surprised to find the Captain and Quinn there as well. "Good - erm, evening, is it - Captain; Elle. How's our favorite Klingon recovering?"
"Better than the medical staff would lead you to believe. I am... anxious to return to my duties," the Klingon repeated his previous complaints for the benefit of the Commander.
"Sir," Elle answered Tournneau's greeting, along with a nod.
Looking from one away team member to the next, Isabel hesitated slightly before speaking. They would have to have an official debriefing, but perhaps something a bit more informal for the time being wouldn't be a bad idea. "We'll have a debriefing in the morning, but is there anything in particular that stood out to any of you or that you feel is important to pass on sooner rather than later?"
Elle leaned forward, picking up on the Captain's body language. Had there been some kind of discovery?
The doors opened behind the captain. A young half-Klingon appeared, just as the question was put to the assembled Away Team members. "If I may captain, I believe the Borg influence at the facility is not part of the Borg collective's actions. Perhaps the Nano probes were malfunctioning. They should have assimilated the crew. Instead, the crew died from asphyxiation," Ba'el (PNPC) offered a preliminary theory.
"Wait. Wow, you're right," Elle said, eyes widening — but she didn't want to get ahead of herself. "Could we have just found a new way of stopping the Borg? Maybe once and for all! For good." Elle pounded a fist into the palm of her other hand. "I mean, if whatever caused the nano-probes to malfunction could be isolated... duplicated! This could be big, right? *Massive* even."
*And* she got ahead of herself. Too late now though. Imagined windows of possibility had already opened.
Tournneau handed his PADD to Kersare. "If you take a look at the preliminary findings, it does seem to support at least part of Ba'el's theory - the nanoprobes did not appear to be communicating outside of the facility. So far, there appears not to be a subspace transponder within the creature's structure. Long-range scanners and the deep-space network also show no signs of transwarp incursions.
"Whether this is an aberration or an evolution in Borg tactics is still unclear. Certainly, much of Borg technology is non-organic, but we have not seen them operate in a purely synthetic environment before. Particle spectrometry of the assimilated probe does show a residual biological signature, but we are unable to determine whether this is actually a part of the creature or if it is simply the remains of the station crew after having been - well - killed by it."
Tournneau shook his head uneasily. "The probe was pretty badly damaged when we terminated it. We'll be able to make a better determination once some of the deep-level scans complete. The crew have been throwing everything our department has at this thing, and I'll be overseeing the effort from here on out."
Though the notion of being rendered so much a part of something else against your will — so much an *Other* that only a "residual biological signature" remained — caused her to shudder slightly, Elle said nothing.
"More than likely the Nano probes' erratic functionality was due to an attempt to fulfill their primary function without direct instruction from the collective consciousness. However, it may be worth looking into," Korath replied.
Isabel listened quietly as the others spoke, mulling over her own thoughts. "Let's not jump to conclusions before we look into it further. Keep in mind that usually nanoprobes are injected directly into a person to assimilate them... These seemed to have been on or within debris that the crew recovered. Perhaps these particular nano probes simply adapted themselves to work solely with machines and that's why they killed in the manner they did..."
Tournneau spoke up again. "At any rate, all of the nanoprobes in the probe were irreparably damaged. Decon has shown no signatures, and damage control has done a full sweep of the ship."
Elle exhaled audibly. Knowing her own Decon results had already provided some relief, but hearing that a full sweep of the Malinche had yielded no sign of further Borg... infestation... was good news.
"That being the case, it would. Still. Be prudent to secure the remaining pieces of the probe behind a level 3 containment field; if for no other purpose but to restrict access to the probe to the research team and the senior staff. " The less foot traffic they had walking through the research lab until they determined more information; the better in his mind.
Elle smiled to herself and nodded, quelling her own paranoia. Because in many ways, it was... exciting? Here she had been these past first weeks aboard, wrapped up in personal worries... and perhaps selfish goals. And now, out of loss and another near tragedy — however selfless the sacrifice would have been, there emerged some good news, and potential greater good. Her transfer to the Malinche was working out better than she had hoped....
OFF:
A Joint Post by:
Ensign Saoirse "Elle" Quinn
Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
Lieutenant Commander Korath
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
also: Ensign Ba'el (PNPC)
and
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/yellow/001.png)
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
ON:
<<Ready Room, Day 15, 1115>>
Isabel sat down at her desk with a mug of mocha, glancing at the PADD she'd brought back from the debrief meeting. Sliding it towards her, she slid her finger across the surface and tapped the screen to bring up her notes. The meeting had taken a couple hours, which wasn't surprising considering how much had happened during the away mission. Luckily there'd been no fatalities, though most of the away team members had at least minor injuries and some were more serious - like Korath.
It was never pleasant when they had to deal with a Borg presence. Other races and situations could be dangerous, of course, but the Borg held a special place of terror in her memory... Isabel was mostly able to block it out, but it was difficult to not be reminded of her husband being assimilated. Although they'd eventually been reunited, she could still remember the thoughts and feelings that had rushed through her at the time.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Isabel took a sip of her mocha as she continued reviewing her notes. She wasn't sure if StarFleet would agree with her decision to destroy the outpost, but in her mind, she'd made the right choice. The only choice. They'd brought back what evidence they could for analysis and leaving a potential Borg presence - especially one that had even partly taken over an outpost and killed the crew - was simply too dangerous.
Some of the information they'd recovered was still a mess. The nanites had done a number on the outpost's systems. She was confident they'd be able to sort it out, it just wasn't something that would be done in an hour. Studying the Borg construct would be time intensive too, in her opinion. The basics wouldn't take long, but an in-depth analysis would. StarFleet would probably do their own analysis regardless, but it didn't hurt for her crew to find out as much as they could, so long as they took the proper precautions.
Sighing, Isabel started her official report to StarFleet. The Admiralty would probably want to question both herself and the away team further once they got back. Actually, they would probably ask for clarifications and have some questions for her even before then. She could only hope there wasn't an official inquiry opened about the events at Outpost Beta 12.
OFF:
I'm going to work on the first post for our next mission, which will more or less pick up from here (or what would be equivalent to Day 16 of this mission), continuity-wise. If you want to do any solo posts (or quick JPs) between the time of the most recent JP we did and this post, feel free.
<<Ready Room, Day 15, 1115>>
Isabel sat down at her desk with a mug of mocha, glancing at the PADD she'd brought back from the debrief meeting. Sliding it towards her, she slid her finger across the surface and tapped the screen to bring up her notes. The meeting had taken a couple hours, which wasn't surprising considering how much had happened during the away mission. Luckily there'd been no fatalities, though most of the away team members had at least minor injuries and some were more serious - like Korath.
It was never pleasant when they had to deal with a Borg presence. Other races and situations could be dangerous, of course, but the Borg held a special place of terror in her memory... Isabel was mostly able to block it out, but it was difficult to not be reminded of her husband being assimilated. Although they'd eventually been reunited, she could still remember the thoughts and feelings that had rushed through her at the time.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Isabel took a sip of her mocha as she continued reviewing her notes. She wasn't sure if StarFleet would agree with her decision to destroy the outpost, but in her mind, she'd made the right choice. The only choice. They'd brought back what evidence they could for analysis and leaving a potential Borg presence - especially one that had even partly taken over an outpost and killed the crew - was simply too dangerous.
Some of the information they'd recovered was still a mess. The nanites had done a number on the outpost's systems. She was confident they'd be able to sort it out, it just wasn't something that would be done in an hour. Studying the Borg construct would be time intensive too, in her opinion. The basics wouldn't take long, but an in-depth analysis would. StarFleet would probably do their own analysis regardless, but it didn't hurt for her crew to find out as much as they could, so long as they took the proper precautions.
Sighing, Isabel started her official report to StarFleet. The Admiralty would probably want to question both herself and the away team further once they got back. Actually, they would probably ask for clarifications and have some questions for her even before then. She could only hope there wasn't an official inquiry opened about the events at Outpost Beta 12.
OFF:
I'm going to work on the first post for our next mission, which will more or less pick up from here (or what would be equivalent to Day 16 of this mission), continuity-wise. If you want to do any solo posts (or quick JPs) between the time of the most recent JP we did and this post, feel free.
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/images/rcapt.jpg)
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
Re: Mission 24 - Nanoprobes Killed Outpost Beta 12
OFF: This is a back-post, taking place after the return of the away team.
ON:
<<USS Malinche - Main Shuttlebay - Mission Day 13 - 1300 Hours>>
“Lunch is served!”
Derek Tournneau leapt to catch a football that his brother, John had thrown him. He ran across the lawn of Kerry Park to his wife, Anaya, who was unfolding a basket of food on one of the park benches. The building that housed the Tournneaus’s apartment towered overhead. His wife was never really young in his lifetime, but she looked far younger than he remembered.
“Is it pulled pork, Anaya?” John asked. Derek turned to him as he asked. His brother’s voice was familiar, but different. As he turned, he saw that his little brother was older - much older - than Derek was. He stopped and watched his brother hobble over to his wife’s side on the bench.
“....John? What happened?”
“What happened? It’s lunch time, don’t you see?”
“Lunch is served,” his wife said again, smiling at him.
“Anaya -- I don’t”
“Lunch is----”
Derek inhaled sharply and opened his eyes. He turned to see the other members of the away team napping on several cots.
“----served. Derek, are you sleeping?”
Derek swung his legs over the cot. He was in a small, low-ceiling room that was lined with wide windows that were only about a half-meter tall. The other members of the team were still sleeping on cots, arranged in a row against one wall. Outside, he could see a couple of the Malinche’s shuttles secured in their berths.
Still in decon. He rubbed his head and stood to see the figure at the window nearest the airlock. There was Viradia, holding a plate that she took off of the cart she had brought in next to her. Derek walked over to key the intercom on the wall by the window.
“Oh, hey V - yeah, we decided to take a nap. This whole decon protocol is starting to get pr-e-et-ty old.”
“Ah, well, I don’t want to disturb you then --”
“Oh, not at all - how’s the analysis going?”
“The analysis? It’s going…” Viradia was a bit taken aback. “It’s going well -- Derek, I read your initial report. You could have been killed!”
Derek looked over at the crew members. They still seemed to be resting. “Well, I suppose -- hold on.” He shut off the companel, pulled the handle on the inner door to the airlock, and stepped in. The door hissed softly as he sealed it behind him. Derek keyed the companel in the airlock.
“I know, it got a little dicey in there, but everything turned out all right in the end, didn’t it?”
“Dicey is hardly describing it. Korath was nearly stabbed to death!”
“Well, yeah, but he’s a Klingon, he’s got like ten livers.”
“You had to drill a hole through an asteroid to escape an army of Borg spiders.”
“I was particularly proud of that one, I --”
“Derek! It’s not funny!”
Derek sighed. He was trying to lighten the mood that Viradia was setting, but he was starting to get annoyed. “Look, Viradia, we all know the risks. You know that every time you put on that uniform, you might be called to die in it. The point is, I haven’t yet, and we didn’t, so I call that a win.”
“I know that -- it’s just --” She put down the plate she was still holding. “This is really the first time that I’ve been close to a real combat situation. We've all been trained, of course. I knew that this was primarily a combat vessel when I accepted the assignment. It still doesn't make it easier to process.”
Derek relaxed his demeanor somewhat. “I understand - this wasn't my first rodeo, but it's been a while. This was also the first time I've ever seen the Borg first-hand. It was....creepy, to say the least. I don't know if I would even call them alive - I know that sounds a little xenophobic, but so be it."
Viradia cocked her head to one side. "No, I understand - they are worth having a phobia over. I don't know that I would have done as well if I was in your place."
Derek shook his head. "You would have been fine - besides, you faced some dangers on the Rhea - I mean, there was that one time - your file said the ship almost got torn to pieces by some anomaly, right? You took command and saved the ship, earned a promotion. It’s one of the reasons that we brought you on board, because you can think fast.”
“Yes - it was a terrible situation, and we lost a lot of good people - some of them were my friends. But, it’s still different - facing a nameless, shapeless, force of nature versus a malicious, sentient enemy that wishes to harm you.”
“I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to say -- anyway, I’m just saying, it could have been a lot worse. There have been whole starships that have simply been….consumed….by the Borg. We prevented whatever that was that we found down there from spreading any further than it already did. It won’t bring back the outpost crew - but we’ve kept everyone in this sector safe.”
Viradia nodded in agreement. There were so many emotions swirling through her mind - anger at Derek for not taking this seriously; sympathy for Korath and his injuries; sadness for the outpost crew; fear of losing her best friend; relief that he was unharmed. She felt a tear begin to well up in her left eye. She brushed it away quickly as she raised the tray to the window again. “I...I know that it could have been worse, and I’m grateful that it wasn’t - but it was still a near thing.”
THUMP THUMP THUMP. Derek and Viradia looked over from their respective sides of the airlock window and saw Officer Revan (NPC) standing at the quarantine bay window, gesturing to the food trays. She seemed to be guiding some sort of docking procedure between the trays and her mouth.
Derek turned back to Viradia. “Well, looks like the natives grow restless.”
Despite her best efforts, a small smile crept into the corners of Viradia’s lips. “So it would seem.”
“Hey, I’m getting out of here tomorrow - we’ll have plenty of time to talk then, eh?”
“Sounds like a plan.” THUMP THUMP THUMP. Revan was continuing her docking guidance, and was joined by several of the others in the chamber at the window. “All right, all right, it’s coming! You’d think you were in there for years!”
Derek opened the inner door of the airlock and joined the others as Viradia began pushing the trays through a smaller airlock, protected by double forcefields, in the wall. “Lunch is served,” Viradia intoned again, “Pulled pork sandwiches.”
OFF
Lt. Viradia Beladd
Assistant Chief Engineer
PNPC of Tournneau
and
Warrant Officer Revan Loril
Brig Officer
NPC of the Malinche
and
ON:
<<USS Malinche - Main Shuttlebay - Mission Day 13 - 1300 Hours>>
“Lunch is served!”
Derek Tournneau leapt to catch a football that his brother, John had thrown him. He ran across the lawn of Kerry Park to his wife, Anaya, who was unfolding a basket of food on one of the park benches. The building that housed the Tournneaus’s apartment towered overhead. His wife was never really young in his lifetime, but she looked far younger than he remembered.
“Is it pulled pork, Anaya?” John asked. Derek turned to him as he asked. His brother’s voice was familiar, but different. As he turned, he saw that his little brother was older - much older - than Derek was. He stopped and watched his brother hobble over to his wife’s side on the bench.
“....John? What happened?”
“What happened? It’s lunch time, don’t you see?”
“Lunch is served,” his wife said again, smiling at him.
“Anaya -- I don’t”
“Lunch is----”
Derek inhaled sharply and opened his eyes. He turned to see the other members of the away team napping on several cots.
“----served. Derek, are you sleeping?”
Derek swung his legs over the cot. He was in a small, low-ceiling room that was lined with wide windows that were only about a half-meter tall. The other members of the team were still sleeping on cots, arranged in a row against one wall. Outside, he could see a couple of the Malinche’s shuttles secured in their berths.
Still in decon. He rubbed his head and stood to see the figure at the window nearest the airlock. There was Viradia, holding a plate that she took off of the cart she had brought in next to her. Derek walked over to key the intercom on the wall by the window.
“Oh, hey V - yeah, we decided to take a nap. This whole decon protocol is starting to get pr-e-et-ty old.”
“Ah, well, I don’t want to disturb you then --”
“Oh, not at all - how’s the analysis going?”
“The analysis? It’s going…” Viradia was a bit taken aback. “It’s going well -- Derek, I read your initial report. You could have been killed!”
Derek looked over at the crew members. They still seemed to be resting. “Well, I suppose -- hold on.” He shut off the companel, pulled the handle on the inner door to the airlock, and stepped in. The door hissed softly as he sealed it behind him. Derek keyed the companel in the airlock.
“I know, it got a little dicey in there, but everything turned out all right in the end, didn’t it?”
“Dicey is hardly describing it. Korath was nearly stabbed to death!”
“Well, yeah, but he’s a Klingon, he’s got like ten livers.”
“You had to drill a hole through an asteroid to escape an army of Borg spiders.”
“I was particularly proud of that one, I --”
“Derek! It’s not funny!”
Derek sighed. He was trying to lighten the mood that Viradia was setting, but he was starting to get annoyed. “Look, Viradia, we all know the risks. You know that every time you put on that uniform, you might be called to die in it. The point is, I haven’t yet, and we didn’t, so I call that a win.”
“I know that -- it’s just --” She put down the plate she was still holding. “This is really the first time that I’ve been close to a real combat situation. We've all been trained, of course. I knew that this was primarily a combat vessel when I accepted the assignment. It still doesn't make it easier to process.”
Derek relaxed his demeanor somewhat. “I understand - this wasn't my first rodeo, but it's been a while. This was also the first time I've ever seen the Borg first-hand. It was....creepy, to say the least. I don't know if I would even call them alive - I know that sounds a little xenophobic, but so be it."
Viradia cocked her head to one side. "No, I understand - they are worth having a phobia over. I don't know that I would have done as well if I was in your place."
Derek shook his head. "You would have been fine - besides, you faced some dangers on the Rhea - I mean, there was that one time - your file said the ship almost got torn to pieces by some anomaly, right? You took command and saved the ship, earned a promotion. It’s one of the reasons that we brought you on board, because you can think fast.”
“Yes - it was a terrible situation, and we lost a lot of good people - some of them were my friends. But, it’s still different - facing a nameless, shapeless, force of nature versus a malicious, sentient enemy that wishes to harm you.”
“I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to say -- anyway, I’m just saying, it could have been a lot worse. There have been whole starships that have simply been….consumed….by the Borg. We prevented whatever that was that we found down there from spreading any further than it already did. It won’t bring back the outpost crew - but we’ve kept everyone in this sector safe.”
Viradia nodded in agreement. There were so many emotions swirling through her mind - anger at Derek for not taking this seriously; sympathy for Korath and his injuries; sadness for the outpost crew; fear of losing her best friend; relief that he was unharmed. She felt a tear begin to well up in her left eye. She brushed it away quickly as she raised the tray to the window again. “I...I know that it could have been worse, and I’m grateful that it wasn’t - but it was still a near thing.”
THUMP THUMP THUMP. Derek and Viradia looked over from their respective sides of the airlock window and saw Officer Revan (NPC) standing at the quarantine bay window, gesturing to the food trays. She seemed to be guiding some sort of docking procedure between the trays and her mouth.
Derek turned back to Viradia. “Well, looks like the natives grow restless.”
Despite her best efforts, a small smile crept into the corners of Viradia’s lips. “So it would seem.”
“Hey, I’m getting out of here tomorrow - we’ll have plenty of time to talk then, eh?”
“Sounds like a plan.” THUMP THUMP THUMP. Revan was continuing her docking guidance, and was joined by several of the others in the chamber at the window. “All right, all right, it’s coming! You’d think you were in there for years!”
Derek opened the inner door of the airlock and joined the others as Viradia began pushing the trays through a smaller airlock, protected by double forcefields, in the wall. “Lunch is served,” Viradia intoned again, “Pulled pork sandwiches.”
OFF
Lt. Viradia Beladd
Assistant Chief Engineer
PNPC of Tournneau
and
Warrant Officer Revan Loril
Brig Officer
NPC of the Malinche
and
![Image](http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/trsm/images/ranks/yellow/001.png)
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A