<<Dereidi>>
<Warehouse, 1939 Day 3>
Jason watched as the body flopped out, wishing that Darkhelm was still with them. He was still as shocked as his crewmates to find about her sudden departure. Jason knelt down and put his fingers to the young man's neck, feeling for a pulse. He knew there wouldn't be one but it seemed like the apprioate thing to do.
He tapped his combadge, openning a channel to the Malinche.
"Malinche, I need you to patch me through to sickbay."
"One moment," Tamlin (NPC) responded. "You're on in sickbay."
"Adam, I'm going to send you some data. We found a body down here I need to know how long ago he died, think you could do that?"
"Sure," Adam (NPC) responded. "Send away, has rigor mortis set in yet?"
Jason scanned the body and then sent the data to the Malinche. Ideally, it would have been better with someone like Darkhelm looking at it; but Adam was an oustanding nurse. He knew his job well, hopefully well enough to determine the general time of death. He wasn't looking for an exact cause. Moments later he heard Adam intake a breath of air.
"His white blood cell count is off the charts, make sure you all stop by sickbay when you get back to get a through check out...I would put the time of death at around 10 hours ago."
"Any idea what killed him?" Mason asked.
"Judging by what I can read here, some sort of infection...at least thats at the very heart of it. Could have been from a biological weapon, or maybe some sustained intneral wound. I can beam the body up if you want and take a closer look."
"Might not be a good idea," Rhone pointed out. "The Malinche is having enough trouble right now, having a infection on the loose wouldn't help matters any."
Mason nodded. "Thanks Adam, we'll keep you appraised, Hunt out."
"Commentary: I suppose it would be prudent to inform you that my interal scanners have completed scanning the area. I have found at least 8 other bodies, however my audio sensors are picking up noises coming from another 200 meters in the direction," Zero (NPC) pointed.
The away team looked up and to the direction that Zero had pointed out, which was still cloaked in darkness. Zero cocked his head to the side, as if straining to hear something.
"Correction: They are at 250 meters away now and appear to be moving away from us."
Jason looked over at Hunt. "Your orders sir?"
OFF: Tag All!
You Can't Judge A Planet By Its Dilithium
Moderators: Tournneau, Korath, Kersare
-
Abubakar
- Senior Staff
- Posts: 60
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:29 pm
- Location: A hole, usually, sometimes referred to as Blackpool (UK)
OOC: Lieuenant Sovereign used with permission
ON: Malinche Bridge. 20:12. Day 3.
Abubakar sat in the helm chair still, his right elbow resting on a PADD shelf and his fingers trying to physicaly rub the groggy and tired feeling from his eyes, a futile action he knew, but just a force of habit.
He blinked his eyes open as his hand moved away, he took a sudden and sharp intake of air as in between two heavy blinks the three crewmen from the shuttle were standing in front of the view screen again, staring accusingly at him.
Lieutenant Soveriegns voice quickly broke the moment, thankfuly.
He tapped his comm badge to relay a reply; "This is Lieutenant Abubakar Jaran, One-I-C, on my way Lieutenant"
He closed the line and walked towards the turbolift; "Ensign Stone you have the bridge." He said, "And get a status report from all departments"
He entered the lift and used the private moment to try to dust himself off a little, not making much of a difference and just spreading the dust further and blending with the mottled patches of vomit that were still on his uniform.
"Deck Four"
He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, upon breathing in he had to cough to expel the putrid stench from his lungs, the sick air heavy with decaying flesh and putrifyed fluids. As the doors opened onto deck four he stumbled out, his hands around his mouth, his stomach wretching. He looked back with wide eyes and saw the trio advance towards him as the doors closed, trapping them inside.
Abubakar shook his head and walked on, his right hand rubbing his temples as he did so, walking uneasily towards the science labs.
He heard sets of heavy, shuffing footsteps behind him all the while he navigated the corridors, finally entering the science labs to find a panicked looking Lieuteant Soveriegn.
"What do you have Lieutenant?" He asked, wrinklhis face and scrunching his eyes, it somehow made him focus better, he touched the red arm band on his right upper arm and drew strength from it.
"Lieutenant Jaran, we didn't speak at the meeting, I'm Lieutenant Sovereign"
"Just -- " he said, motioning to the console, he didn't have time for pleasantries.
"I did what you asked, and we now have a almost certain probabe attacker"
He noticed that her voice was very uneasy and crackled with nervousness. "Who Lieutenant?"
Her face went suddenly stern and she locked eyes with him. "It's... it's Borg"
Abubakar's heart seemed to stop, then each beat afterwards was a heavy drum beat in his head, his stomach knotted and his left leg started twitching at the knee. He walked backwards to the door, still looking in disbelief at Soveriegn until he broke the gaze to look forwards he ran, through the doorway and into the corridor, running full pelt towards the turbolift. 'Ship stopped dead...' he thought, remembering the oddity of the Sirions course - "Holding beam!" he exclaimed as entered the lift, clicking his fingers in realisation.
"Deck One!" He shouted, within seconds he was deposited on the bridge. He walked onto the command deck, his face sweating with an unplaceable, overwhelming feeling; "Recall all shuttles and the away team, red alert, ready all phasers and load quantum torpedoes - prepare all decks for M-VAM seperation. Commence long-range scans specificaly for Borg signatures" He sat in the command chair as the lights again dipped into combat blues and the bridge flared with activity. "Get me Captain Kersare, now"
Tamlin turned round from his station, his face paler than that old paper stuff, "Sir... Ensign Sychorski is requesting permission to track and observe an unidentified vessel at the edge of the system, he says its trajectory is a large orbit of the system."
Abubakar's jaw tensed as he quickly considered; "Tell him to stay at long-range, the second that ship so much as twitches off course he's to get back here, and if he can - tell him to identify the ship." He swivelled the chair 90 degrees, to look at science, "Scan the planet for any Borg signatures"
He clenched his teeth, 'Borg...' How the hell were they going to get over that. But more puzzlng, why wasn't the planet assimilated... "Correlate all data, load it into one file and transmit to Starfleet Command under priority one. And will someone PLEASE raise the Captain, right now!"
OFF:
ON: Malinche Bridge. 20:12. Day 3.
Abubakar sat in the helm chair still, his right elbow resting on a PADD shelf and his fingers trying to physicaly rub the groggy and tired feeling from his eyes, a futile action he knew, but just a force of habit.
He blinked his eyes open as his hand moved away, he took a sudden and sharp intake of air as in between two heavy blinks the three crewmen from the shuttle were standing in front of the view screen again, staring accusingly at him.
Lieutenant Soveriegns voice quickly broke the moment, thankfuly.
He tapped his comm badge to relay a reply; "This is Lieutenant Abubakar Jaran, One-I-C, on my way Lieutenant"
He closed the line and walked towards the turbolift; "Ensign Stone you have the bridge." He said, "And get a status report from all departments"
He entered the lift and used the private moment to try to dust himself off a little, not making much of a difference and just spreading the dust further and blending with the mottled patches of vomit that were still on his uniform.
"Deck Four"
He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, upon breathing in he had to cough to expel the putrid stench from his lungs, the sick air heavy with decaying flesh and putrifyed fluids. As the doors opened onto deck four he stumbled out, his hands around his mouth, his stomach wretching. He looked back with wide eyes and saw the trio advance towards him as the doors closed, trapping them inside.
Abubakar shook his head and walked on, his right hand rubbing his temples as he did so, walking uneasily towards the science labs.
He heard sets of heavy, shuffing footsteps behind him all the while he navigated the corridors, finally entering the science labs to find a panicked looking Lieuteant Soveriegn.
"What do you have Lieutenant?" He asked, wrinklhis face and scrunching his eyes, it somehow made him focus better, he touched the red arm band on his right upper arm and drew strength from it.
"Lieutenant Jaran, we didn't speak at the meeting, I'm Lieutenant Sovereign"
"Just -- " he said, motioning to the console, he didn't have time for pleasantries.
"I did what you asked, and we now have a almost certain probabe attacker"
He noticed that her voice was very uneasy and crackled with nervousness. "Who Lieutenant?"
Her face went suddenly stern and she locked eyes with him. "It's... it's Borg"
Abubakar's heart seemed to stop, then each beat afterwards was a heavy drum beat in his head, his stomach knotted and his left leg started twitching at the knee. He walked backwards to the door, still looking in disbelief at Soveriegn until he broke the gaze to look forwards he ran, through the doorway and into the corridor, running full pelt towards the turbolift. 'Ship stopped dead...' he thought, remembering the oddity of the Sirions course - "Holding beam!" he exclaimed as entered the lift, clicking his fingers in realisation.
"Deck One!" He shouted, within seconds he was deposited on the bridge. He walked onto the command deck, his face sweating with an unplaceable, overwhelming feeling; "Recall all shuttles and the away team, red alert, ready all phasers and load quantum torpedoes - prepare all decks for M-VAM seperation. Commence long-range scans specificaly for Borg signatures" He sat in the command chair as the lights again dipped into combat blues and the bridge flared with activity. "Get me Captain Kersare, now"
Tamlin turned round from his station, his face paler than that old paper stuff, "Sir... Ensign Sychorski is requesting permission to track and observe an unidentified vessel at the edge of the system, he says its trajectory is a large orbit of the system."
Abubakar's jaw tensed as he quickly considered; "Tell him to stay at long-range, the second that ship so much as twitches off course he's to get back here, and if he can - tell him to identify the ship." He swivelled the chair 90 degrees, to look at science, "Scan the planet for any Borg signatures"
He clenched his teeth, 'Borg...' How the hell were they going to get over that. But more puzzlng, why wasn't the planet assimilated... "Correlate all data, load it into one file and transmit to Starfleet Command under priority one. And will someone PLEASE raise the Captain, right now!"
OFF:
Lieutenant Abubakar Jaran
Deceased
The Anti-Lamb 666
Flying Monk-eh
U.S.S Malinche
"It is easier and more effective to destroy the enemy's aerial power by destroying his nests and eggs on the ground than to hunt his flying birds in the air." - General Giulio Douhet
ON: <Direidi Court Room, 1945>
Peters looked around the courtroom as the assemblage was seated again following the odd pizza ritual. There were dozens of Direidi in all manner of costumes and dress, everything from sleepwear to a clown suit to a tuxedo. Fortunately everyone seemed to have shirts and shoes on. The squeak of the judges "gavel" brought Peters' attention back to the front of the court.
"Court is now in session. First case is the People of Direidi vs. Peters and Grayson. The charge is Grand Larceny, or, in layman's terms, bank robbing. How do the defendants plead?"
"Your honor," Roy began, "My clients plead..." He stopped and turned to face Peters and Grayson. "How do you boys plead, anyways?"
Isabel quirked an eyebrow, rather surprised that Roy would even have to ask. Then again, this probably wasn't an every day thing. Hopefully he'd start doing better...
"Oy," Peters exclaimed as he dropped is head into his hand, "I don't believe this."
"Innocent, your honor", replied Mark giving a murderous look at Roy.
"Who told you to speak?" snapped the judge, making an effort to keep his ridiculous wig from falling down.
Mark looked at Peters and then to Kersare. "Uh... You did, your honor, when you ask us how do we pl..."
"Details! I hate details!" interrupted the Judge. "Attorney, you'll do well to control yours clients! I won't accept their contempt in my courtroom.... Only my own contempt!"
"Right, judge. They say they didn't do it," Roy said quickly.
Rocco grinned, "Spectacular, that makes things more interesting. Who has a coin?"
"I do, your honor," the prosecutor, a woman with dark hair and a few touches of grey, pulled into a tight twist, replied. In her black suit and seemingly permanent scowl, she walked up to Rocco to hand him the coin.
"Thank you Ms. Trolley. Now, which one of you is which?" The judge glared down at Mark and Todd.
"I'm innocent, that's what I am", said Grayson.
"I'm annoyed and innocent," Peters chimed in.
"Hrmph, here goes. Heads is Grayson, Tails is Peters," Rocco stated, flipping the coin. As it landed in front of him, he peered down, then announced, "Our lucky first contestant is Mr. Grayson. Don't worry, Mr. Peters, you'll get your chance too."
A woman in a blue sparkling dress stepped forward and smiled at Rocco. "Shall I sir?"
"Absolutely Olivia," he replied.
She then walked over to a chalkboard and wrote, "Plead: Not Guilty," and underneath that wrote, "Coin Toss Winner: Grayson."
Mark looked to the situation with an amazing detachment. The thing was so ridiculous that nothing could make him feel any worse.
The judge looked down at Mark, "Mr. Grayson, if you'll step over to the left there."
"If I must," replied Mark glancing Kersare and Peters.
Peters shrugged. He had no idea what was coming next, and was starting to think that he might not want to know.
To the side a red velvet curtain could be seen covering the wall, then slowing moving to the side, revealing 3 doors, marked 1, 2, and 3. Each was painted a different a color, with a different type of handle.
"Choose one of the doors, Mr. Grayson," said the Judge.
"Do I have to?" asked Mark. "I'm undecided which door I should take."
Peters looked at the three doors from his spot at the defense table. Door number one was blue, door number two was red, and door number three was green. When in doubt, Peters mused. Then he looked to Grayson, "Anything but Door Number 2, I'd say."
Isabel was inclined to agree...she seemed to remember that red meant 'stop' for old Earth traffic....not to mention 'Red Alert'. Just didn't sound very promising.
"I choose door number two," said Mark, not only ignoring Peters' observation, but making sure his choice would oppose the engineer opinion. He had enough of hunches.
Peters sighed. Within seconds of Grayson's statement the door swung open and a man in a pin-striped suit with white hair and what looked like an ancient microphone appeared from behind it. Peters privately thought he looked like the guy from that old game show... what was his name? Oh, right, Bob Barker.
Looking from Mark to Todd, and doing her best to ignore Roy for the moment, Isabel said quietly, "Any idea as to who this guy is? I'm not entirely sure what's going on; it seems the reference book I found left out a good deal..."
"Congratulations," the man said, "You've won the chance to determine whether or not the first piece of evidence is accepted by the court or not. The first piece of evidence is... this holo-recording of the defendants at the scene of the crime."
Holo-recording of them at the scene? This ought to be interesting. Isabel was curious as to what it would show.
Mark sighed. "Sure, a holo recording... Why not?", muttered him. He looked at Peters and Kersare and saw their expressions. Yeah, they were thinking the same. A forged holo recording.
Peters gaped as the holo played, showing Grayson and himself in full uniforms with phaser rifles holding up the tellers at the bank. He looked first to Grayson, then to Kersare. Neither of them seemed to believe what they were seeing either. "That's obviously forged," Peters muttered to no one in particular.
Isabel replied, "I would certainly hope so. What I want to know is when exactly this supposedly took place. Besides, you two aren't even in uniform. When were you last in uniform?" This was rather troubling. Though it was obviously untrue, she wasn't sure how they'd be able to prove it.
"We used our uniforms until prior our first arrest at the warehouse, captain. The uniforms are in an abandoned house several meters from the hotel", whispered Mark.
"And now that we've seen the evidence, Mister Grayson, you get to play Plinko to determine if the Evidence is admitted into the case against you or not." The Bob Barker look-alike raised his hand in a sweeping gesture to his left as a giant pegboard with a transparent cover was rolled out. Along the bottom were 9 slots which alternated between reading "True" and "False."
Isabel sighed; things just seemed to keep getting worse. Then again, if Mark could get the "False", they wouldn't have to worry about disproving it - it would just be thrown out. She wondered what other 'evidence' the Direidi had that they'd have to play their way out of...
"Our innocence is being determined by... This?", said Mark, pointing to the device. "No proof can be true or false because I choose to. Where's the truth?"
"Truth? In a Courtroom?!", barked Rocco. "Isn't that funny?", asked him, laughing out loud. The rest of the Dereidi laughed with him, including Roy.
Mark threw an angry look at the attorney, who stopped laughing and lowered his eyes. "I refuse to choose. I am innocent and this is an obvious forgery", said him.
"You are trying to be rude, boy?", said the Judge. "I must remind that even I have feelings and you don't want to see me upset!", uttered him.
"Oh, why don't you...", started Mark, losing his composure.
Isabel put a restraining hand on Mark's shoulder and looked directly in his eyes, saying quietly, "I don't like this any more than you do, but we have to go along with it. This is like a play for the Direidi, and we have to play the game. Even if the recording's admitted, we should be able to disprove it. Just go on and participate; it could be much worse."
"I doubt it, Captain, but I'll play along. For now", said Grayson looking furious.
Roy looked over at Mark, "Start it two spots from the left, it'll surely go in to the 'False'. Besides, yous gots 5 chances, so do da best yous can, hmm?"
"Shut up", said Mark making Roy lower his eyes to the ground again. "I choose the second to the right", spoke him after a moment. "I bet all of them are 'False'", muttered him.
OFF: JP By:
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Lieutenant Todd Peters
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Peters looked around the courtroom as the assemblage was seated again following the odd pizza ritual. There were dozens of Direidi in all manner of costumes and dress, everything from sleepwear to a clown suit to a tuxedo. Fortunately everyone seemed to have shirts and shoes on. The squeak of the judges "gavel" brought Peters' attention back to the front of the court.
"Court is now in session. First case is the People of Direidi vs. Peters and Grayson. The charge is Grand Larceny, or, in layman's terms, bank robbing. How do the defendants plead?"
"Your honor," Roy began, "My clients plead..." He stopped and turned to face Peters and Grayson. "How do you boys plead, anyways?"
Isabel quirked an eyebrow, rather surprised that Roy would even have to ask. Then again, this probably wasn't an every day thing. Hopefully he'd start doing better...
"Oy," Peters exclaimed as he dropped is head into his hand, "I don't believe this."
"Innocent, your honor", replied Mark giving a murderous look at Roy.
"Who told you to speak?" snapped the judge, making an effort to keep his ridiculous wig from falling down.
Mark looked at Peters and then to Kersare. "Uh... You did, your honor, when you ask us how do we pl..."
"Details! I hate details!" interrupted the Judge. "Attorney, you'll do well to control yours clients! I won't accept their contempt in my courtroom.... Only my own contempt!"
"Right, judge. They say they didn't do it," Roy said quickly.
Rocco grinned, "Spectacular, that makes things more interesting. Who has a coin?"
"I do, your honor," the prosecutor, a woman with dark hair and a few touches of grey, pulled into a tight twist, replied. In her black suit and seemingly permanent scowl, she walked up to Rocco to hand him the coin.
"Thank you Ms. Trolley. Now, which one of you is which?" The judge glared down at Mark and Todd.
"I'm innocent, that's what I am", said Grayson.
"I'm annoyed and innocent," Peters chimed in.
"Hrmph, here goes. Heads is Grayson, Tails is Peters," Rocco stated, flipping the coin. As it landed in front of him, he peered down, then announced, "Our lucky first contestant is Mr. Grayson. Don't worry, Mr. Peters, you'll get your chance too."
A woman in a blue sparkling dress stepped forward and smiled at Rocco. "Shall I sir?"
"Absolutely Olivia," he replied.
She then walked over to a chalkboard and wrote, "Plead: Not Guilty," and underneath that wrote, "Coin Toss Winner: Grayson."
Mark looked to the situation with an amazing detachment. The thing was so ridiculous that nothing could make him feel any worse.
The judge looked down at Mark, "Mr. Grayson, if you'll step over to the left there."
"If I must," replied Mark glancing Kersare and Peters.
Peters shrugged. He had no idea what was coming next, and was starting to think that he might not want to know.
To the side a red velvet curtain could be seen covering the wall, then slowing moving to the side, revealing 3 doors, marked 1, 2, and 3. Each was painted a different a color, with a different type of handle.
"Choose one of the doors, Mr. Grayson," said the Judge.
"Do I have to?" asked Mark. "I'm undecided which door I should take."
Peters looked at the three doors from his spot at the defense table. Door number one was blue, door number two was red, and door number three was green. When in doubt, Peters mused. Then he looked to Grayson, "Anything but Door Number 2, I'd say."
Isabel was inclined to agree...she seemed to remember that red meant 'stop' for old Earth traffic....not to mention 'Red Alert'. Just didn't sound very promising.
"I choose door number two," said Mark, not only ignoring Peters' observation, but making sure his choice would oppose the engineer opinion. He had enough of hunches.
Peters sighed. Within seconds of Grayson's statement the door swung open and a man in a pin-striped suit with white hair and what looked like an ancient microphone appeared from behind it. Peters privately thought he looked like the guy from that old game show... what was his name? Oh, right, Bob Barker.
Looking from Mark to Todd, and doing her best to ignore Roy for the moment, Isabel said quietly, "Any idea as to who this guy is? I'm not entirely sure what's going on; it seems the reference book I found left out a good deal..."
"Congratulations," the man said, "You've won the chance to determine whether or not the first piece of evidence is accepted by the court or not. The first piece of evidence is... this holo-recording of the defendants at the scene of the crime."
Holo-recording of them at the scene? This ought to be interesting. Isabel was curious as to what it would show.
Mark sighed. "Sure, a holo recording... Why not?", muttered him. He looked at Peters and Kersare and saw their expressions. Yeah, they were thinking the same. A forged holo recording.
Peters gaped as the holo played, showing Grayson and himself in full uniforms with phaser rifles holding up the tellers at the bank. He looked first to Grayson, then to Kersare. Neither of them seemed to believe what they were seeing either. "That's obviously forged," Peters muttered to no one in particular.
Isabel replied, "I would certainly hope so. What I want to know is when exactly this supposedly took place. Besides, you two aren't even in uniform. When were you last in uniform?" This was rather troubling. Though it was obviously untrue, she wasn't sure how they'd be able to prove it.
"We used our uniforms until prior our first arrest at the warehouse, captain. The uniforms are in an abandoned house several meters from the hotel", whispered Mark.
"And now that we've seen the evidence, Mister Grayson, you get to play Plinko to determine if the Evidence is admitted into the case against you or not." The Bob Barker look-alike raised his hand in a sweeping gesture to his left as a giant pegboard with a transparent cover was rolled out. Along the bottom were 9 slots which alternated between reading "True" and "False."
Isabel sighed; things just seemed to keep getting worse. Then again, if Mark could get the "False", they wouldn't have to worry about disproving it - it would just be thrown out. She wondered what other 'evidence' the Direidi had that they'd have to play their way out of...
"Our innocence is being determined by... This?", said Mark, pointing to the device. "No proof can be true or false because I choose to. Where's the truth?"
"Truth? In a Courtroom?!", barked Rocco. "Isn't that funny?", asked him, laughing out loud. The rest of the Dereidi laughed with him, including Roy.
Mark threw an angry look at the attorney, who stopped laughing and lowered his eyes. "I refuse to choose. I am innocent and this is an obvious forgery", said him.
"You are trying to be rude, boy?", said the Judge. "I must remind that even I have feelings and you don't want to see me upset!", uttered him.
"Oh, why don't you...", started Mark, losing his composure.
Isabel put a restraining hand on Mark's shoulder and looked directly in his eyes, saying quietly, "I don't like this any more than you do, but we have to go along with it. This is like a play for the Direidi, and we have to play the game. Even if the recording's admitted, we should be able to disprove it. Just go on and participate; it could be much worse."
"I doubt it, Captain, but I'll play along. For now", said Grayson looking furious.
Roy looked over at Mark, "Start it two spots from the left, it'll surely go in to the 'False'. Besides, yous gots 5 chances, so do da best yous can, hmm?"
"Shut up", said Mark making Roy lower his eyes to the ground again. "I choose the second to the right", spoke him after a moment. "I bet all of them are 'False'", muttered him.
OFF: JP By:
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Lieutenant Todd Peters
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Lieutenant Mark Grayson II
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
"O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible and hence we can hold the enemy's fate in our hands." - Sun Tzu
<<Dereidi>>
<Warehouse, 1940 Day 3>
Something about the situation wasn't sitting right with Jason. The Dereidi weren't violent people; a little on the odd side but not violent. Something about the whole situation didn't make sense. He shined his light into the darkness, waiting for Hunt to give his next order.
It was then that Adam's (NPC) voice cut through the room.
"Jason, I found something odd in the readings you sent me, are you sure you didn't do anything...any life saving measures?"
"No, why?"
"I'm detecting traces of Melorazine, a highly potent sedative..."
And then it clicked.
"Adam, if you wanted to make it look like someone was dead what drug would you use?"
"Melorazine...wait a second, you don't think that they are really dead? Based on what I saw, they looked pretty dead to me; although is possible, Jason look for a small bump on the back of the body's head, right below his occpital region."
Jason did as he was told, finding a small bump there.
"I found something feels to be maybe an inch, inch and a half in length, what is it?"
"Something Amanda talked about, somethign the Marines tried. You overdose someone on a sedative and a nueral supressent, that bump you are feeling is a senor beacon, sending out false life signs while at the same time regulating the body in its slowed down state....feel for a pulse for a full minute this time."
Jason did as he was told a minute later he reported the number to Adam.
"You're right, they aren't dead then...just made to look very dead. I can tell you what drugs to use to wake them up if you want."
Jason looked over at Hunt.
OFF: Tag Hunt!
<Warehouse, 1940 Day 3>
Something about the situation wasn't sitting right with Jason. The Dereidi weren't violent people; a little on the odd side but not violent. Something about the whole situation didn't make sense. He shined his light into the darkness, waiting for Hunt to give his next order.
It was then that Adam's (NPC) voice cut through the room.
"Jason, I found something odd in the readings you sent me, are you sure you didn't do anything...any life saving measures?"
"No, why?"
"I'm detecting traces of Melorazine, a highly potent sedative..."
And then it clicked.
"Adam, if you wanted to make it look like someone was dead what drug would you use?"
"Melorazine...wait a second, you don't think that they are really dead? Based on what I saw, they looked pretty dead to me; although is possible, Jason look for a small bump on the back of the body's head, right below his occpital region."
Jason did as he was told, finding a small bump there.
"I found something feels to be maybe an inch, inch and a half in length, what is it?"
"Something Amanda talked about, somethign the Marines tried. You overdose someone on a sedative and a nueral supressent, that bump you are feeling is a senor beacon, sending out false life signs while at the same time regulating the body in its slowed down state....feel for a pulse for a full minute this time."
Jason did as he was told a minute later he reported the number to Adam.
"You're right, they aren't dead then...just made to look very dead. I can tell you what drugs to use to wake them up if you want."
Jason looked over at Hunt.
OFF: Tag Hunt!
Lieutenant Commander Jason Barrett
Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
<Dereidi Warehouse Basement, 1941, Day 3>
ON:
Rhone was appalled that he'd been mislead, it was difficult for people to get things past him. Then again, he was no doctor.
Rhone looked to Hunt, curious to see his reaction. He ran his tricorder over the form and got the same reading.
"Some kind of subspace transponder," he concluded.
"Alright, so what do we know," Jason said, looking around at the bodies. "We've got at least a dozen or so bodies here that were made to look like they were dead but not really dead, so why would anyone want to do that?"
Rhone scratched his head, pondering. "Well, a fake signal would suggest they knew we would find it, and that means they knew we would eventually make it down here. Sounds like a game to me."
"I hate games," Jason growled. He opened his own tricorder and began to scan the area again. Zero (NPC) was kneeling down to examine the bodies.
"Query: Did they not think we would discover there subterfuge?" Zero asked.
Rhone raised an eyebrow at the question. "They knew we would make it down here, they knew we had the technology to find the signal, and they knew we would make it here..." he repeated, then his voice trailed off.
He turned his back to the body, looking into the darkness. Then his eyes lit up. "Lieutenant, see if we have what we need to wake him, we need to find out what's in this warehouse, and if its dangerous
or not."
"Alright, might want to get your phasers handy, saw Adam (NPC) bring out a drug overdose once, the guy woke up swinging."
Jason tapped his combadge, openning a channel to the Malinche. "Adam I need to now how to wake this guy up, preferrably without killing him, think you could walk me through that?"
=/\= Sure, hang on. =/\=
Seryn drew his phaser from his hip.
With Adam walking him though the process, Jason began to administer the drugs that Adam told him too. No more than two minutes later the man began to moan and open his eyes. Jason took a step back, drawing his phaser as well.
Rhone crouched down to one knee to avoid being the first one seen. He was trying to keep surprise on their side, his phaser still pointed at the now moving body.
Slowly, the man came around. When he finally realized what was going on he tried to leap to his feet. Thankfully though, a combination of the meds and the phasers pointed at him kept him where he was, although now he was sitting up and looking around in sort of a paniced fashion.
Rhone knew since he was the lowest ranking that it was his job to take the first risk. "What is your name?" he asked. Not really what he wanted to say, but he was still a little nervous and disgruntled about being deceived.
After waiting a few moments for a respose that didn't come, Seryn took a step closer, phaser at eye level.
The being put his hands up in the universal 'I mean no harm' sign.
"Alright, now that we have your attention, who are you and why were you playing possum?" Hunt asked, stepping out from behind Jason.
His voice shaking, the person said "I can't tell you that."
"What?" Rhone was losing more and more patience.
"Its up to you... To find out..." the native said, letting his voice trail off. When he was done speaking, he folded his arms up to his shoulders and slowly lowered himself back down into the crate.
Seryn lowered his phaser and ran his hand through his hair. A sure sign of aggravation.
He sighed heavily, dismissing the existence of the being with obvious anger. 'Where is the Sirion crew?' he asked himself. And why was this whole planet playing games with them?
Just as he was about to scream into the darkness of the never-ending basement, he took note of something looking at him.
Normally he would dismiss what he saw as a reflection of light, but there were two points of light, not just one. Every few seconds, it seemed they would 'blink', that is, disappear and reappear. Rhone raised his phaser again, signalling Barrett that he'd seen something.
Barrett arched an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"We're being watched," he whispered. He backed up to where he'd set his bag remembering he'd brought a wrist-lite. To his dismay, his bag was gone. He kept his phaser pointed at the direction he'd seen the 'eyes', but he could no longer see them.
"My bag..." he started.
"Commentary: Was taken by some sort of humanoid figure."
They all turned to look at Zero.
"And you failed to tell us this because?"
"Commentary: You were otherwise engaged. The subject that took your bag is still in this complex, although moving away at a right rate of speed."
"In what direction??" Rhone asked, ready to pursue, blindly.
"Commentary: To the north."
Rhone flipped open his tricorder and got his bearings, pointing the device in the suggested direction looking for a lifesign.
There wasn't any. He switched frequencies a few times, getting nothing.
"Try sonar," suggested Thundera from over by the Direidi native, clutching her stomach.
He did so, taking note of Thundera's condition. And he found what he was looking for. Acting as a sonar similar to the ancient devices used hundreds of years ago, the sonar sent a minute sound pulse in a certain direction. Whatever reflected back would indicate an object. Essentially, the signal would bounce from the object back to the device.
Seryn took off in the direction of the signal, refusing to be stooped again. Blind as he was, he had only the lights of his tricorder to guide him.
"Rhone..." he heard the commander yell.
Jason sighed. The crew of the Malinche was nothing, if not headstrong.
"Zero stay here, I'll go after him."
Rhone was moving fast for his average frame, building speed as he ran, only listening to his tricorder.
He had to stop, momentarily, while the signal ceased to return. That meant they were in a very large room and the person was gone. He wished he could smell something other than the mildew.
Mildew meant there was moisture coming from somewhere. If he could find the source, maybe they'd find another exit.
Just then the signal returned from another direction, and Rhone pursued again. He built more speed as he had before, his legs pumping, his lungs controlling his breathing.
Suddenly, he slipped. He felt it and knew it was going to happen before he actually fell. His foot had landed and started to slide before his other foot had been placed. He landed hard on his back losing his breath and came to a dead halt making contact with something solid.
Just then, he heard a creaking sound, then a few cracking sounds. Something wooden?
Instinctively, Rhone covered himself in the fetal position and waited for the creaking to stop. That meant separation was complete and all that was left was the drop. What felt like a rack of wooden boxes pinned him to the ground, preventing his lungs from filling with much needed air.
Jason wasn't far behind Rhone, catching up rather quickly. He became keenly aware of his surroundings and for some odd reason found himself navigating the dark rather easily. He barreled down the same direction until something in his head told him to stop. Putting on the brakes, Jason came to a dead stop and soon recognized Rhone, who was pinned down by several crates.
"What happened...you know what don't talk, let me get these things off you."
Jason took out his phaser, blasting away the boxes on the top. Once those were cleared he shoved off the remaining pieces and then knelt down next to Rhone.
"How are you feeling?"
Rhone rubbed his back, his lungs screaming at him, internally, protesting the scare. Then he felt it.
"You feel a draft?" he asked, thankful he wasn't alone anymore.
Jason nodded. Draft meant a way out and that was probably where thier wayward suspect went. Helping Rhone to his feet his eyes began to search the darkness hoping to find a small pinpoint of light. "Hang on, grab the back of my uniform...I'm going to try something."
Rhone latched onto Barrett's shoulder, as requested.
Jason stretched out with his senses, trying to focuse like Jadan had taught. His senses weren't nearly as attuned as a Maran's, but of course he could try. He tried to imagine the air currents flowing in and out of the room. He felt a slight twitch and without realizing it fired his phaser into the darkness.
There was a dull thud and the sound of someone exclaiming something; Jason thought they were curse words but he could't be sure.
With Rhone still attached to his shoulder, the duo raced toward the sound of the thud.
Rhone had heard the familiar sound of a phaser, and realized he didn't have his own any longer. He followed right behind Barrett with shuffled steps so as not to be caught off guard, and got a little too close to him when they stopped.
He let go, lowering himself to the ground in search of the source of the thin layer of water. Having been in the darkness so long he realized that if someone could see him they would laugh at his bulging eyeballs.
Then he found the bag. "I got it!" he exclaimed, still in the dark. He fumbled for the opening mechanism of the bag and found it. Opening the bag, he fumbled until he found what he was looking for. The wrist-lite.
He put it on his wrist and switched it on. He moved fast to cover his eyes after blinding himself.
The light showed the body laying on the floor, a small phaser mark on his upper left shoulder. He was moaning and moving, Jason was just glad the he didn't hit the guy in the head. Adam had warned him about that, apparently even a stun blast could seriously wreak havoc with the bodie's CNS.
"Alright," Jason said, kneeling down at the man's head. "You can try running again but I wouldn't advise it."
Rhone activated his headset to contact Hunt. "Ensign Rhone to Commander Hunt," he said.
=/\=Hunt here=/\= came the reply.
"Sir, we got a witness here, the one who took my bag, presumably. He's conscious if you want to ask him some questions," he said.
=/\=We're coming to you, a little blindly, but we'll make it.=/\=
Rhone retrieved a spare tricorder from the bag and activated it. Using the same sonar signalling he had in pursuit of the thief he scanned in the direction of the draft.
He smiled and looked to Barrett, seeing only a big bright spot where his face should have been. "Looks like a way out," he said.
"Let's wait and see what Hunt wants us to do," Barrett said. He pointed his phaser back at the man, who was becoming more awake. "Maybe by then this guy will feel like talking."
OFF:
A JP thanks to
Lieutenant Jason Barrett
Chief Operations Officer
USS Malinche-B
and
ON:
Rhone was appalled that he'd been mislead, it was difficult for people to get things past him. Then again, he was no doctor.
Rhone looked to Hunt, curious to see his reaction. He ran his tricorder over the form and got the same reading.
"Some kind of subspace transponder," he concluded.
"Alright, so what do we know," Jason said, looking around at the bodies. "We've got at least a dozen or so bodies here that were made to look like they were dead but not really dead, so why would anyone want to do that?"
Rhone scratched his head, pondering. "Well, a fake signal would suggest they knew we would find it, and that means they knew we would eventually make it down here. Sounds like a game to me."
"I hate games," Jason growled. He opened his own tricorder and began to scan the area again. Zero (NPC) was kneeling down to examine the bodies.
"Query: Did they not think we would discover there subterfuge?" Zero asked.
Rhone raised an eyebrow at the question. "They knew we would make it down here, they knew we had the technology to find the signal, and they knew we would make it here..." he repeated, then his voice trailed off.
He turned his back to the body, looking into the darkness. Then his eyes lit up. "Lieutenant, see if we have what we need to wake him, we need to find out what's in this warehouse, and if its dangerous
or not."
"Alright, might want to get your phasers handy, saw Adam (NPC) bring out a drug overdose once, the guy woke up swinging."
Jason tapped his combadge, openning a channel to the Malinche. "Adam I need to now how to wake this guy up, preferrably without killing him, think you could walk me through that?"
=/\= Sure, hang on. =/\=
Seryn drew his phaser from his hip.
With Adam walking him though the process, Jason began to administer the drugs that Adam told him too. No more than two minutes later the man began to moan and open his eyes. Jason took a step back, drawing his phaser as well.
Rhone crouched down to one knee to avoid being the first one seen. He was trying to keep surprise on their side, his phaser still pointed at the now moving body.
Slowly, the man came around. When he finally realized what was going on he tried to leap to his feet. Thankfully though, a combination of the meds and the phasers pointed at him kept him where he was, although now he was sitting up and looking around in sort of a paniced fashion.
Rhone knew since he was the lowest ranking that it was his job to take the first risk. "What is your name?" he asked. Not really what he wanted to say, but he was still a little nervous and disgruntled about being deceived.
After waiting a few moments for a respose that didn't come, Seryn took a step closer, phaser at eye level.
The being put his hands up in the universal 'I mean no harm' sign.
"Alright, now that we have your attention, who are you and why were you playing possum?" Hunt asked, stepping out from behind Jason.
His voice shaking, the person said "I can't tell you that."
"What?" Rhone was losing more and more patience.
"Its up to you... To find out..." the native said, letting his voice trail off. When he was done speaking, he folded his arms up to his shoulders and slowly lowered himself back down into the crate.
Seryn lowered his phaser and ran his hand through his hair. A sure sign of aggravation.
He sighed heavily, dismissing the existence of the being with obvious anger. 'Where is the Sirion crew?' he asked himself. And why was this whole planet playing games with them?
Just as he was about to scream into the darkness of the never-ending basement, he took note of something looking at him.
Normally he would dismiss what he saw as a reflection of light, but there were two points of light, not just one. Every few seconds, it seemed they would 'blink', that is, disappear and reappear. Rhone raised his phaser again, signalling Barrett that he'd seen something.
Barrett arched an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"We're being watched," he whispered. He backed up to where he'd set his bag remembering he'd brought a wrist-lite. To his dismay, his bag was gone. He kept his phaser pointed at the direction he'd seen the 'eyes', but he could no longer see them.
"My bag..." he started.
"Commentary: Was taken by some sort of humanoid figure."
They all turned to look at Zero.
"And you failed to tell us this because?"
"Commentary: You were otherwise engaged. The subject that took your bag is still in this complex, although moving away at a right rate of speed."
"In what direction??" Rhone asked, ready to pursue, blindly.
"Commentary: To the north."
Rhone flipped open his tricorder and got his bearings, pointing the device in the suggested direction looking for a lifesign.
There wasn't any. He switched frequencies a few times, getting nothing.
"Try sonar," suggested Thundera from over by the Direidi native, clutching her stomach.
He did so, taking note of Thundera's condition. And he found what he was looking for. Acting as a sonar similar to the ancient devices used hundreds of years ago, the sonar sent a minute sound pulse in a certain direction. Whatever reflected back would indicate an object. Essentially, the signal would bounce from the object back to the device.
Seryn took off in the direction of the signal, refusing to be stooped again. Blind as he was, he had only the lights of his tricorder to guide him.
"Rhone..." he heard the commander yell.
Jason sighed. The crew of the Malinche was nothing, if not headstrong.
"Zero stay here, I'll go after him."
Rhone was moving fast for his average frame, building speed as he ran, only listening to his tricorder.
He had to stop, momentarily, while the signal ceased to return. That meant they were in a very large room and the person was gone. He wished he could smell something other than the mildew.
Mildew meant there was moisture coming from somewhere. If he could find the source, maybe they'd find another exit.
Just then the signal returned from another direction, and Rhone pursued again. He built more speed as he had before, his legs pumping, his lungs controlling his breathing.
Suddenly, he slipped. He felt it and knew it was going to happen before he actually fell. His foot had landed and started to slide before his other foot had been placed. He landed hard on his back losing his breath and came to a dead halt making contact with something solid.
Just then, he heard a creaking sound, then a few cracking sounds. Something wooden?
Instinctively, Rhone covered himself in the fetal position and waited for the creaking to stop. That meant separation was complete and all that was left was the drop. What felt like a rack of wooden boxes pinned him to the ground, preventing his lungs from filling with much needed air.
Jason wasn't far behind Rhone, catching up rather quickly. He became keenly aware of his surroundings and for some odd reason found himself navigating the dark rather easily. He barreled down the same direction until something in his head told him to stop. Putting on the brakes, Jason came to a dead stop and soon recognized Rhone, who was pinned down by several crates.
"What happened...you know what don't talk, let me get these things off you."
Jason took out his phaser, blasting away the boxes on the top. Once those were cleared he shoved off the remaining pieces and then knelt down next to Rhone.
"How are you feeling?"
Rhone rubbed his back, his lungs screaming at him, internally, protesting the scare. Then he felt it.
"You feel a draft?" he asked, thankful he wasn't alone anymore.
Jason nodded. Draft meant a way out and that was probably where thier wayward suspect went. Helping Rhone to his feet his eyes began to search the darkness hoping to find a small pinpoint of light. "Hang on, grab the back of my uniform...I'm going to try something."
Rhone latched onto Barrett's shoulder, as requested.
Jason stretched out with his senses, trying to focuse like Jadan had taught. His senses weren't nearly as attuned as a Maran's, but of course he could try. He tried to imagine the air currents flowing in and out of the room. He felt a slight twitch and without realizing it fired his phaser into the darkness.
There was a dull thud and the sound of someone exclaiming something; Jason thought they were curse words but he could't be sure.
With Rhone still attached to his shoulder, the duo raced toward the sound of the thud.
Rhone had heard the familiar sound of a phaser, and realized he didn't have his own any longer. He followed right behind Barrett with shuffled steps so as not to be caught off guard, and got a little too close to him when they stopped.
He let go, lowering himself to the ground in search of the source of the thin layer of water. Having been in the darkness so long he realized that if someone could see him they would laugh at his bulging eyeballs.
Then he found the bag. "I got it!" he exclaimed, still in the dark. He fumbled for the opening mechanism of the bag and found it. Opening the bag, he fumbled until he found what he was looking for. The wrist-lite.
He put it on his wrist and switched it on. He moved fast to cover his eyes after blinding himself.
The light showed the body laying on the floor, a small phaser mark on his upper left shoulder. He was moaning and moving, Jason was just glad the he didn't hit the guy in the head. Adam had warned him about that, apparently even a stun blast could seriously wreak havoc with the bodie's CNS.
"Alright," Jason said, kneeling down at the man's head. "You can try running again but I wouldn't advise it."
Rhone activated his headset to contact Hunt. "Ensign Rhone to Commander Hunt," he said.
=/\=Hunt here=/\= came the reply.
"Sir, we got a witness here, the one who took my bag, presumably. He's conscious if you want to ask him some questions," he said.
=/\=We're coming to you, a little blindly, but we'll make it.=/\=
Rhone retrieved a spare tricorder from the bag and activated it. Using the same sonar signalling he had in pursuit of the thief he scanned in the direction of the draft.
He smiled and looked to Barrett, seeing only a big bright spot where his face should have been. "Looks like a way out," he said.
"Let's wait and see what Hunt wants us to do," Barrett said. He pointed his phaser back at the man, who was becoming more awake. "Maybe by then this guy will feel like talking."
OFF:
A JP thanks to
Lieutenant Jason Barrett
Chief Operations Officer
USS Malinche-B
and
<img src="http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/images/rens.jpg">
Ensign Seryn Rhone
Assistant Chief Communications Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
Ensign Seryn Rhone
Assistant Chief Communications Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
ON
<Basement Warehouse, 1943, Day 1>
Mason had arrived with great expectations of seeing this prisoner of sorts being held by Rhone and Barrett. He walked in just a ways from the warehouse door seeing Rhone and Barrett kneeling beside their guest. Coming in from the shadows Hunt saw the face and put away his hand phaser kneeling down along side Rhone.
"My, my, my what do we have here. Rhone by the odd look on your face and your open tri-corder can i assume you have found something?" asked Mason.
<Tag Rhone>
Hunt felt the draft as did the others. Although the hestitant feeling was holding him back he moved towards it then turned back to both Rhone and Barrett.
"Let's get some restraints on him then pick him up we are going threw. Barrett you take point Rhone you bring up the rear. Set phasers to stun just in case. Alright let's move out." said Mason with just a bit of nervousness in his voice.
The group headed for the source of the draft. The small wind continue to get stronger and stronger as they approched. Mason ducked his head in first as he did he could feel a mixed warm current within the draft itself which was not all that unusual. One by one each member of the team made it threw into a dark damp room.
Hunt took out his tricorder to give the area they were in some light. Even the darkness began to play with the XO's being semi cold.
"Ok, i'm not getting much from this tri-corder at all. This passage extends for another twenty meters. Anyone who wants to turn back now may do so." said Mason looking at everyone in the group.
Even though there was some doubt, fear each looked to the other and then back at Mason with stern looks and brief smiles. The journey up the path was nothing but enjoyable for the group. Mason's tricorder suddenly went dead.
"Jason do you have anything on yours?" asked Mason.
The end of the path led into a room with very unique decor. loud music and people dancing all about. Mason looked to the group with a frown and puzzled look. Every where he looked he could see non stop dancing and loud music filling the room. At two points in the room there were signs marked with the words "Exit" written on them.
"Looks simple enough." said Mason walking over to one of them.
Reaching for the handle and the pulling it back only to find that it would not open began to frustrate the XO. Having to calm himself down he ran over to the other door turning up the same result.
"Ok, looks like we are trapped in here. Fan out but try and stay close together report anything that would help us get out. Thundera keep your mind open I know it will be difficult for you but please try. Soren your with me." barked Hunt.
OFF: Tag Crew
<Basement Warehouse, 1943, Day 1>
Mason had arrived with great expectations of seeing this prisoner of sorts being held by Rhone and Barrett. He walked in just a ways from the warehouse door seeing Rhone and Barrett kneeling beside their guest. Coming in from the shadows Hunt saw the face and put away his hand phaser kneeling down along side Rhone.
"My, my, my what do we have here. Rhone by the odd look on your face and your open tri-corder can i assume you have found something?" asked Mason.
<Tag Rhone>
Hunt felt the draft as did the others. Although the hestitant feeling was holding him back he moved towards it then turned back to both Rhone and Barrett.
"Let's get some restraints on him then pick him up we are going threw. Barrett you take point Rhone you bring up the rear. Set phasers to stun just in case. Alright let's move out." said Mason with just a bit of nervousness in his voice.
The group headed for the source of the draft. The small wind continue to get stronger and stronger as they approched. Mason ducked his head in first as he did he could feel a mixed warm current within the draft itself which was not all that unusual. One by one each member of the team made it threw into a dark damp room.
Hunt took out his tricorder to give the area they were in some light. Even the darkness began to play with the XO's being semi cold.
"Ok, i'm not getting much from this tri-corder at all. This passage extends for another twenty meters. Anyone who wants to turn back now may do so." said Mason looking at everyone in the group.
Even though there was some doubt, fear each looked to the other and then back at Mason with stern looks and brief smiles. The journey up the path was nothing but enjoyable for the group. Mason's tricorder suddenly went dead.
"Jason do you have anything on yours?" asked Mason.
The end of the path led into a room with very unique decor. loud music and people dancing all about. Mason looked to the group with a frown and puzzled look. Every where he looked he could see non stop dancing and loud music filling the room. At two points in the room there were signs marked with the words "Exit" written on them.
"Looks simple enough." said Mason walking over to one of them.
Reaching for the handle and the pulling it back only to find that it would not open began to frustrate the XO. Having to calm himself down he ran over to the other door turning up the same result.
"Ok, looks like we are trapped in here. Fan out but try and stay close together report anything that would help us get out. Thundera keep your mind open I know it will be difficult for you but please try. Soren your with me." barked Hunt.
OFF: Tag Crew
Commander Mason Hunt
First Officer
USS Malinche NCC 38897-B
(OOC: *pants* Made it in time)
Borg, there was a name that was sure to send chills through the spines of any Starfleet officer that was paying attention to class. The threat that had been plaguing the Federation for the last couple decades, forcing technology to evolve quicker than it normally would have and force into production to the very ship-class that Yrel was now stationed to.
She couldn't stand the thought of the borg having been here and possibly still around this ship. Though of course, it was a bitter sweat revelation that had come about. They at least know something more about the Sirion and what had happened, but what it is is not very pleasant on the already emotionally worn down.
"Couldn't it just have been the Kligons? That would have been nice. Kligons used to be the top scapegoat about the quadrant, right? Why couldn't it have been them?" she muttered, sulking around her science lab in the moments after Jaran had dashed out and back to the bridge.
No response was forthcoming when the red alert klaxons blared across the ship, and the power to the science lab was cut to a quarter, as part of standard procedure on a warship. There was no use for Yrel to serve in the lab for the time being, not in this kind of emergency situation. Since she did have some medical ability, and while the CMO was ashore, Yrel thought it best to head there and ready the sickbay for emergency.
<i>'Way to take over when the CMO is around. Don't you think that's a bit rude?'</i> she berated herself mentally while jogging out of the science lab and heading for sickbay. She didn't give her thoughts a response, because she knew she was doing the best thing she could right now.
OFF(Short, I know. All I could think of for now. I'll get something more complete by tuesday)
Borg, there was a name that was sure to send chills through the spines of any Starfleet officer that was paying attention to class. The threat that had been plaguing the Federation for the last couple decades, forcing technology to evolve quicker than it normally would have and force into production to the very ship-class that Yrel was now stationed to.
She couldn't stand the thought of the borg having been here and possibly still around this ship. Though of course, it was a bitter sweat revelation that had come about. They at least know something more about the Sirion and what had happened, but what it is is not very pleasant on the already emotionally worn down.
"Couldn't it just have been the Kligons? That would have been nice. Kligons used to be the top scapegoat about the quadrant, right? Why couldn't it have been them?" she muttered, sulking around her science lab in the moments after Jaran had dashed out and back to the bridge.
No response was forthcoming when the red alert klaxons blared across the ship, and the power to the science lab was cut to a quarter, as part of standard procedure on a warship. There was no use for Yrel to serve in the lab for the time being, not in this kind of emergency situation. Since she did have some medical ability, and while the CMO was ashore, Yrel thought it best to head there and ready the sickbay for emergency.
<i>'Way to take over when the CMO is around. Don't you think that's a bit rude?'</i> she berated herself mentally while jogging out of the science lab and heading for sickbay. She didn't give her thoughts a response, because she knew she was doing the best thing she could right now.
OFF(Short, I know. All I could think of for now. I'll get something more complete by tuesday)
Lieutenant Yrel Sovereign
Chief Science Officer & Second Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
<<Direidi Courtroom, 2028, Day 3>>
Isabel watched quietly as Mark once again went against advice someone gave him. Though she wasn't overly surprised, she was beginning to wonder if Mark would listen to anyone. Then again, he had decided to participate, as she'd asked, but still.
She looked over at Roy; it was hard to tell whether he was actually trying to help, incompetent, or setting them up for conviction. The game, Plinko, seemed to be random chance - depending on where exactly the plinko chip hit the pegs of the board. Hopefully Mark would be able to get the majority of the 5 chips into 'False' spots so the forged holo-recording wouldn't become part of the evidence...
Rocco pounded his gavel, emitting a few squeaks, "Alright, what are you waiting for? Get over there Mr. Grayson, time's a-wasting!"
"Alright, Mr. Judge, sir", said Mark with irony. He approached the 'Plinko' with care. He was a highly trained Starfleet officer and his fate was being determined a bogus trial with bogus evidence e pure luck. No one had trained him for that.
He looked at the Plinko again. Climbing the ladder, he grabbed the small 'Plinko Chip' and looked at it. "Now what?"
"Come on, boy! Everybody knows how to play Plinko! Just drop it and we'll see if the evidence is true or false."
Mark sighed and dropped the chip. The thing bounced around the several 'true' and 'false' pegs until several moments the thing finally stopped at 'True'.
Well, that didn't seem like a good sign to Isabel....Hopefully the others would fall in the 'False' spot.
"Ah, give me a break!", said Mark. "How many of these things can I drop?"
"You have five chances total," the host said into his microphone. "You've used one, four more to go. Whichever one you land in three times or more is the answer to whether this evidence is true or not in the court's eyes."
Peters groaned. The man didn't understand plinko? Sheesh. Grayson was clearly lacking in his education of historical games.
Mark sniffed. "Another one coming... Ahhh, you know what... Here goes all of it!" He threw all chips at the same time.
Isabel's eyes widened as Mark let all the Plinko chips go down the Plinko board at once. Theoretically, each one had an equal chance of landing in true or false, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate due to various imperfections in the board and chips - even hitting off a peg at the wrong angle or speed could influence the outcome. "I hope that was a good idea...," she said aloud quietly as she watched the chips tumble down.
Peters felt his jaw drop as one after another, each of the 4 plinko chips landed in slots marked "False." How in the Universe had Grayson managed to be that lucky? He managed to regain his composure as the "host" congratulated Grayson on a game well played, then called for Peters to come up.
"Well now, Mister Peters, Door 2 has been chosen. That leaves you Door number 1 and Door number 3 to chose from. Which do you chose?"
Peters looked at the two doors and pondered for a moment. Finally he decided. Pointing towards the door he wanted, Peters said loudly and clearly, "Door Number 1."
Isabel held her breath a moment, curious yet also dreading what would come next...
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant JG Mark Grayson II
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Lieutenant Todd Peters
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Isabel watched quietly as Mark once again went against advice someone gave him. Though she wasn't overly surprised, she was beginning to wonder if Mark would listen to anyone. Then again, he had decided to participate, as she'd asked, but still.
She looked over at Roy; it was hard to tell whether he was actually trying to help, incompetent, or setting them up for conviction. The game, Plinko, seemed to be random chance - depending on where exactly the plinko chip hit the pegs of the board. Hopefully Mark would be able to get the majority of the 5 chips into 'False' spots so the forged holo-recording wouldn't become part of the evidence...
Rocco pounded his gavel, emitting a few squeaks, "Alright, what are you waiting for? Get over there Mr. Grayson, time's a-wasting!"
"Alright, Mr. Judge, sir", said Mark with irony. He approached the 'Plinko' with care. He was a highly trained Starfleet officer and his fate was being determined a bogus trial with bogus evidence e pure luck. No one had trained him for that.
He looked at the Plinko again. Climbing the ladder, he grabbed the small 'Plinko Chip' and looked at it. "Now what?"
"Come on, boy! Everybody knows how to play Plinko! Just drop it and we'll see if the evidence is true or false."
Mark sighed and dropped the chip. The thing bounced around the several 'true' and 'false' pegs until several moments the thing finally stopped at 'True'.
Well, that didn't seem like a good sign to Isabel....Hopefully the others would fall in the 'False' spot.
"Ah, give me a break!", said Mark. "How many of these things can I drop?"
"You have five chances total," the host said into his microphone. "You've used one, four more to go. Whichever one you land in three times or more is the answer to whether this evidence is true or not in the court's eyes."
Peters groaned. The man didn't understand plinko? Sheesh. Grayson was clearly lacking in his education of historical games.
Mark sniffed. "Another one coming... Ahhh, you know what... Here goes all of it!" He threw all chips at the same time.
Isabel's eyes widened as Mark let all the Plinko chips go down the Plinko board at once. Theoretically, each one had an equal chance of landing in true or false, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate due to various imperfections in the board and chips - even hitting off a peg at the wrong angle or speed could influence the outcome. "I hope that was a good idea...," she said aloud quietly as she watched the chips tumble down.
Peters felt his jaw drop as one after another, each of the 4 plinko chips landed in slots marked "False." How in the Universe had Grayson managed to be that lucky? He managed to regain his composure as the "host" congratulated Grayson on a game well played, then called for Peters to come up.
"Well now, Mister Peters, Door 2 has been chosen. That leaves you Door number 1 and Door number 3 to chose from. Which do you chose?"
Peters looked at the two doors and pondered for a moment. Finally he decided. Pointing towards the door he wanted, Peters said loudly and clearly, "Door Number 1."
Isabel held her breath a moment, curious yet also dreading what would come next...
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant JG Mark Grayson II
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Lieutenant Todd Peters
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
<<USS Malinche, 2035, Day 3>>
Tamlin wheeled around quickly after Jaran barking at him, he didn't see why the Lieutenant had to be such an ass - Ryan sure wasn't going to be like when he got seniority, or when he got bridge command. He called up and activated the frequency for Kersare's comm badge. "Malinche to Captain Kersare, I repeat, U.S.S Malinche to Captain Kersare" The line was filled with static, if she responded it would likely clear though- seeing as there would be a return signal.
Hearing her comm badge, Isabel quickly stepped out of the courtroom, "Kersare here."
Ryan jumped a little, the Captain's voice in the earpiece was louder than he expected. "Lieutenant Jaran for you Captain" he patched it into the bridge-comm.
"Captain" started Abubakar. "We have something of significance to report."
Hopefully nobody else had been arrested.... Isabel replied, "Go on Lieutenant."
Abubakar took a long look around the bridge. Heads were still turned from when he had ordered a scan for Borg. "We've analyzed the debris, it was definately a weapons signature ma'am" Abubakar stated, his voice just starting to break, irritatingly unusual for himself - he inwardly scolded himself for such weakness.
"What did you find?" Isabel was almost afraid to ask, considering how things had been going.
Jaran took in a nervous breath, long and deep. "The Borg, Captain" Abubakar closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, he had to show composure for the bridge crew.
Borg. Isabel shuddered, feeling the color drain from her face as she felt weakened. Somehow she'd managed to avoid any contact or mention of the Borg since her husband's death, but now it was rushing back to her all too quickly. Feeling herself choke up and sick to her stomach, she somehow regained enough composure to respond, "Have you found anything?"
He 'heard' the Captain's silence - there was one word that could make everyone across the Federation freeze - Borg. Abubakar nodded uselessly, he felt his forehead and hands were sweating; "Ensign Sychorski is tracking a vessel at the edge of the system in a shuttle.
We've also concluded from minute debris, that the Sirion made a low pass above the atmosphere, was fired on, and then taken away. We have a definate trajectory Captain..." he finished suggestively, hoping she'd give the order to follow but also partly hoping she'd come back up and take the burden off of him.
"We aren't leaving until we have the Sirion crew and the rest of ours. Have you contacted Commander Hunt?" While waiting for a reply, Isabel quickly went through various options in her mind.
He looked to Tamlin to see if he would offer any new info, sadly none. "We've been trying but nobody on the Commanders team can be reached, we can't find them on sensors either ma'am. I strongly recommend you and the away team return to the ship Captain, the Sirion crew may be assimilated - we should not risk your lives" He shuddered at the thought of a Starfleet crew assimilated.
"Unfortunately, Lieutenant, Peters and Grayson are on trial; I'm not willing to leave them here alone. Hunt and his team are looking for the Sirion crew now, and as you've just informed us, are unreachable. I will not leave my crew behind," Isabel said. "Now, I want you to go and look for Commander Hunt's team. Is Lieutenant Sovereign still aboard?"
Abubakar clenched his jaw, he was adamant the Captain was making the wrong choice, although leaving half the senior staff abandoned dirt-side wasn't an appealing option either. "Aye Captain. And yes, she's aboard - the new CoB has also arrived too." He inhaled to speak, opened his mouth then thought better of it.
New Chief of the Boat? At this point, she really shouldn't be surprised. "Alright, send the new Chief of the Boat down to Direidi - have him meet me at the trial. Lieutenant Sovereign will be in charge - please let her know before you leave that I'd like her to contact me at her earliest convenience, and to keep scanning. Also, before you go, make sure Ensign Sychorski is being extremely careful - the Borg are not to be taken lightly."
He shook his head. "Captain." he said sharply, bluntly.
"Lieutenant, those are my orders. I will not have the Malinche running after the Borg with only partial crew, not to mention all but one or two of the Senior Officers missing or detained. If you can't follow them, then I suggest you remove yourself from duty immediately," Isabel said. Things were bad enough, she didn't need to add an officer not following her orders to the list.
Jaran felt the back of his neck go hot. His heart sped up - Abubakar Jaran did not back down to direct challenges; "You, are in error." he began, "I remove myself from duty, Captain" he said, taking off his badge and tossing it forward.
"Lieutenant, I'd highly recommend you consider what you say before you say it. That's a rather large accusation, and at the least borders on insubordination. We'll discuss it further once I have arrived back on the ship. For now, consider yourself removed from duty and watch where you step, you're teetering on dangerous ground," Isabel replied, keeping her voice level and controlled. Perhaps having Jaran back wasn't the best thing. Of all times, this was one of the worst for him to go against her.
She now spoke to Ryan, "Ensign Tamlin, get Lieutenant Sovereign to the bridge immediately and contact me as soon as she's there. Also, have someone stay with Mr. Abubakar to ensure he does not create any difficulties."
Abubakar's eyes quickly darted to Tamlin, then to Ensign Stone, the latter of which quickly crossed the bridge and grabbed his arm - phaser in hand. He felt a small tugging and he walked off quietly seething. "You'll regret this Captain!" He yelled as Stone bungled him into the turbolift. He felt the phaser tip sharply hit his ribs with force and he stepped backwards.
Tamlin's hands started to shake, he had never even read about anything like this before. Ass or not, Abubakar had friends on board from his last posting, he was sure the Lieutenant wouldn't stay captive for long. "Uh... y..yes, yes ma'am..." he answered as the turbolift door shut. "Lieutenant Abubakar has been escorted off bridge sir..uh..Cap- Captain.." he coughed.
Isabel didn't respond to Jaran's last comment. In her gut, she knew she was doing the right thing. "Thank you Ensign. Send the new Chief of the Boat down and tell him to find me. Also, Contact StarFleet and let them know what we've found in regards to the Borg, and be sure to get Sovereign for me as soon as possible." Now, if only Jaran would stay put. Somehow she doubted he would, but at the very least she hoped he wouldn't do anything too foolish or stupid...or put others in danger.
Tamlin looked back round to his console, then back around the stunned bridge. "Ma'am" he said in ackknowledgement. He exhaled deeply. He was going to ask her how to contain Jaran, but then didn't want to look like an idiot to the Captain so kept quiet. He was racking his brains trying to remember if it was Stone or someone else that Jaran used to train with...
Isabel replied, "Kersare out."
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Abubakar Jaran
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Tamlin wheeled around quickly after Jaran barking at him, he didn't see why the Lieutenant had to be such an ass - Ryan sure wasn't going to be like when he got seniority, or when he got bridge command. He called up and activated the frequency for Kersare's comm badge. "Malinche to Captain Kersare, I repeat, U.S.S Malinche to Captain Kersare" The line was filled with static, if she responded it would likely clear though- seeing as there would be a return signal.
Hearing her comm badge, Isabel quickly stepped out of the courtroom, "Kersare here."
Ryan jumped a little, the Captain's voice in the earpiece was louder than he expected. "Lieutenant Jaran for you Captain" he patched it into the bridge-comm.
"Captain" started Abubakar. "We have something of significance to report."
Hopefully nobody else had been arrested.... Isabel replied, "Go on Lieutenant."
Abubakar took a long look around the bridge. Heads were still turned from when he had ordered a scan for Borg. "We've analyzed the debris, it was definately a weapons signature ma'am" Abubakar stated, his voice just starting to break, irritatingly unusual for himself - he inwardly scolded himself for such weakness.
"What did you find?" Isabel was almost afraid to ask, considering how things had been going.
Jaran took in a nervous breath, long and deep. "The Borg, Captain" Abubakar closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, he had to show composure for the bridge crew.
Borg. Isabel shuddered, feeling the color drain from her face as she felt weakened. Somehow she'd managed to avoid any contact or mention of the Borg since her husband's death, but now it was rushing back to her all too quickly. Feeling herself choke up and sick to her stomach, she somehow regained enough composure to respond, "Have you found anything?"
He 'heard' the Captain's silence - there was one word that could make everyone across the Federation freeze - Borg. Abubakar nodded uselessly, he felt his forehead and hands were sweating; "Ensign Sychorski is tracking a vessel at the edge of the system in a shuttle.
We've also concluded from minute debris, that the Sirion made a low pass above the atmosphere, was fired on, and then taken away. We have a definate trajectory Captain..." he finished suggestively, hoping she'd give the order to follow but also partly hoping she'd come back up and take the burden off of him.
"We aren't leaving until we have the Sirion crew and the rest of ours. Have you contacted Commander Hunt?" While waiting for a reply, Isabel quickly went through various options in her mind.
He looked to Tamlin to see if he would offer any new info, sadly none. "We've been trying but nobody on the Commanders team can be reached, we can't find them on sensors either ma'am. I strongly recommend you and the away team return to the ship Captain, the Sirion crew may be assimilated - we should not risk your lives" He shuddered at the thought of a Starfleet crew assimilated.
"Unfortunately, Lieutenant, Peters and Grayson are on trial; I'm not willing to leave them here alone. Hunt and his team are looking for the Sirion crew now, and as you've just informed us, are unreachable. I will not leave my crew behind," Isabel said. "Now, I want you to go and look for Commander Hunt's team. Is Lieutenant Sovereign still aboard?"
Abubakar clenched his jaw, he was adamant the Captain was making the wrong choice, although leaving half the senior staff abandoned dirt-side wasn't an appealing option either. "Aye Captain. And yes, she's aboard - the new CoB has also arrived too." He inhaled to speak, opened his mouth then thought better of it.
New Chief of the Boat? At this point, she really shouldn't be surprised. "Alright, send the new Chief of the Boat down to Direidi - have him meet me at the trial. Lieutenant Sovereign will be in charge - please let her know before you leave that I'd like her to contact me at her earliest convenience, and to keep scanning. Also, before you go, make sure Ensign Sychorski is being extremely careful - the Borg are not to be taken lightly."
He shook his head. "Captain." he said sharply, bluntly.
"Lieutenant, those are my orders. I will not have the Malinche running after the Borg with only partial crew, not to mention all but one or two of the Senior Officers missing or detained. If you can't follow them, then I suggest you remove yourself from duty immediately," Isabel said. Things were bad enough, she didn't need to add an officer not following her orders to the list.
Jaran felt the back of his neck go hot. His heart sped up - Abubakar Jaran did not back down to direct challenges; "You, are in error." he began, "I remove myself from duty, Captain" he said, taking off his badge and tossing it forward.
"Lieutenant, I'd highly recommend you consider what you say before you say it. That's a rather large accusation, and at the least borders on insubordination. We'll discuss it further once I have arrived back on the ship. For now, consider yourself removed from duty and watch where you step, you're teetering on dangerous ground," Isabel replied, keeping her voice level and controlled. Perhaps having Jaran back wasn't the best thing. Of all times, this was one of the worst for him to go against her.
She now spoke to Ryan, "Ensign Tamlin, get Lieutenant Sovereign to the bridge immediately and contact me as soon as she's there. Also, have someone stay with Mr. Abubakar to ensure he does not create any difficulties."
Abubakar's eyes quickly darted to Tamlin, then to Ensign Stone, the latter of which quickly crossed the bridge and grabbed his arm - phaser in hand. He felt a small tugging and he walked off quietly seething. "You'll regret this Captain!" He yelled as Stone bungled him into the turbolift. He felt the phaser tip sharply hit his ribs with force and he stepped backwards.
Tamlin's hands started to shake, he had never even read about anything like this before. Ass or not, Abubakar had friends on board from his last posting, he was sure the Lieutenant wouldn't stay captive for long. "Uh... y..yes, yes ma'am..." he answered as the turbolift door shut. "Lieutenant Abubakar has been escorted off bridge sir..uh..Cap- Captain.." he coughed.
Isabel didn't respond to Jaran's last comment. In her gut, she knew she was doing the right thing. "Thank you Ensign. Send the new Chief of the Boat down and tell him to find me. Also, Contact StarFleet and let them know what we've found in regards to the Borg, and be sure to get Sovereign for me as soon as possible." Now, if only Jaran would stay put. Somehow she doubted he would, but at the very least she hoped he wouldn't do anything too foolish or stupid...or put others in danger.
Tamlin looked back round to his console, then back around the stunned bridge. "Ma'am" he said in ackknowledgement. He exhaled deeply. He was going to ask her how to contain Jaran, but then didn't want to look like an idiot to the Captain so kept quiet. He was racking his brains trying to remember if it was Stone or someone else that Jaran used to train with...
Isabel replied, "Kersare out."
OFF: JP brought to you by:
Lieutenant Abubakar Jaran
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
and
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
-
Abubakar
- Senior Staff
- Posts: 60
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:29 pm
- Location: A hole, usually, sometimes referred to as Blackpool (UK)
<<Mission Day Three. U.S.S Malinche. Set whilst LT Jaran is en-route to bridge from shuttlebay after returning from the surface in Arrowhawk.>>
The Chief flopped his bag down in his cramped quarters, not technically his ? he was fortunate to be the only NCO on board with his own quarters, power had privileges and he was happy that he had chosen to come out of intelligence and into the command line. His last involvement with Starfleet Intelligence hadn?t gone well, and what he was responsible for setting in motion still weighed very heavily on his mind, that combined with decades of hard military service was often portrayed in a very gruff, sharp mood ? almost aggressive but never violent.
He stood, walked over to the replicator and ordered a raktajino, sipping at it he looked around his barren quarters, Chief Of the Boat or not, he still had enlisted quarters and so disappointingly lacked a window with being away from the outer hull ? ?though? he thought ?what better place to be on a warship?. Even though they were at a crisis time, and he should really go and humiliate and/or torture some enlisted peon somewhere, he had another matter that needed to be resolved quickly. He tapped his comm. Badge, ?Chief Harkin to Lieutenant Jaran?
Jaran leaned against the turbolift wall, exhaling deeply. The last thing he expected to hear was the internal hail that echoed in the tiny space. He stopped dead, he felt the sweat on his skin turn ice cold and he felt his temples thump in the sides of skull.
Harkin smiled slightly, taking deliberate notice his ?superiors? pause.
?Go ahead?? Abubakar rumbled off, his face turning red and his skin getting hotter, his fingers slipping in his sweaty palm as he balled livid fists.
?Please join me, sir? Harkin said, his voice as smooth as a pebble. He sat back in a chair, sipping his Klingon coffee, and frowned. He was worried, Abubakar was an officer, supposedly more professional than himself ? a mere rating. But the voice was laced with emotion, just what ? other than anger- he couldn?t judge.
Within a few minutes Abubakar was outside the quarters of the man he hated the most, everything on Inferno planet was Harkins fault. He opened the doors and stormed in, sighting the Chief on a chair. ?You couldn?t have just taken a dump and waited five damn minutes on Inferno could ya?? Abubakar shouted at the man. ?Get up!?
Harkin didn?t bother to hide his puzzlement, he stood and faced the Lieutenant. ?We all knew the level we were going to, don?t give me that shit Lieutenant, not the guilt and the speech about atrocity!? He ripped his comm. badge off and through it on the floor, watching as Abubakar did the same.
?You?, you?re?? Abubakar started, taking a few steps forward ? hot stinging water drowning his eyes.
?Responsible?? Countered the Chief, ?like hell I am!?
Abubakar lanced out and grabbed Harkins right ear, Harking fortunately did not react.
Harkin looked Abubakar in the eyes, he felt??something?, ?Bajorans?? he thought cynically.
?Your pah is strong?? Abubakar felt his eyes reach flaming heat, his teeth gritted and he saw a mass of loving flame envelop the space around them, saw the orange soak into their skin, heard the heat breathe...
Harkin succumbed to the sharpness of breath, ?what the hell do they do with this?? he wondered, watching a rather hyped up Lieutenant holding his frigging ear in rather uneventful silence.
Abubakar heard what the breaths were saying, he heard the air morph into words? Harkin was responsible, Abubakar spoke softly, barely above a whisper ?the true prophets of Bajor do not condone mass killing like the false gods do?? He swung his gripping hand sideways, slamming Harkins head into the bulkhead, following with a swift jab into his teeth with his left.
Harkin dropped after being smashed in the teeth, rolling forward he forced Jaran to stumble back ? he rolled quickly to the left avoiding the counter reaction of Jaran who fell flat on his face, leaving a small patch of blood on the floor as his face rolled off of it.
Abubakar jumped up, using purely his superior force to barrel into Harkin, knocking the wind out of him and tackling him to the floor, he thumped both hands down into the Chiefs stomach, then raised them again to bring them crashing down once more.
Harkin jabbed quickly at Jarans throat, causing his raised hands to instantly nurse the new injury ? creating chance for Harkin to bring a knee into Abubakars groin and flip him off, he grabbed at a knife on his table brought the blade swiftly down through Abubakars long hair that was on the floor, embedding it into the floor slightly.
?Give it the f**k up Lieutenant! Go and deal with it like the rest of us!? He barked, kicking Abubakar in the ribs before he stepped over him and walked out, leaving the Lieutenant writing on the floor in pain, fighting for breath whilst he was temporarily winded.
Abubakar growled through the pain, mostly through the indignity, he pulled the knife out of the ground, noticing that a fair chunk of his hair stayed attached. He seethed with rage and hate, staggered to his feet and out the door, heading towards sickbay, cradling a split eyebrow, lip, and the annoying loss of a tooth which cracked a whip of pain in his gum.
A JP by:
Chief Byan Telayr-Harkin
Chief Of the Boat.
U.S.S Malinche
and---
The Chief flopped his bag down in his cramped quarters, not technically his ? he was fortunate to be the only NCO on board with his own quarters, power had privileges and he was happy that he had chosen to come out of intelligence and into the command line. His last involvement with Starfleet Intelligence hadn?t gone well, and what he was responsible for setting in motion still weighed very heavily on his mind, that combined with decades of hard military service was often portrayed in a very gruff, sharp mood ? almost aggressive but never violent.
He stood, walked over to the replicator and ordered a raktajino, sipping at it he looked around his barren quarters, Chief Of the Boat or not, he still had enlisted quarters and so disappointingly lacked a window with being away from the outer hull ? ?though? he thought ?what better place to be on a warship?. Even though they were at a crisis time, and he should really go and humiliate and/or torture some enlisted peon somewhere, he had another matter that needed to be resolved quickly. He tapped his comm. Badge, ?Chief Harkin to Lieutenant Jaran?
Jaran leaned against the turbolift wall, exhaling deeply. The last thing he expected to hear was the internal hail that echoed in the tiny space. He stopped dead, he felt the sweat on his skin turn ice cold and he felt his temples thump in the sides of skull.
Harkin smiled slightly, taking deliberate notice his ?superiors? pause.
?Go ahead?? Abubakar rumbled off, his face turning red and his skin getting hotter, his fingers slipping in his sweaty palm as he balled livid fists.
?Please join me, sir? Harkin said, his voice as smooth as a pebble. He sat back in a chair, sipping his Klingon coffee, and frowned. He was worried, Abubakar was an officer, supposedly more professional than himself ? a mere rating. But the voice was laced with emotion, just what ? other than anger- he couldn?t judge.
Within a few minutes Abubakar was outside the quarters of the man he hated the most, everything on Inferno planet was Harkins fault. He opened the doors and stormed in, sighting the Chief on a chair. ?You couldn?t have just taken a dump and waited five damn minutes on Inferno could ya?? Abubakar shouted at the man. ?Get up!?
Harkin didn?t bother to hide his puzzlement, he stood and faced the Lieutenant. ?We all knew the level we were going to, don?t give me that shit Lieutenant, not the guilt and the speech about atrocity!? He ripped his comm. badge off and through it on the floor, watching as Abubakar did the same.
?You?, you?re?? Abubakar started, taking a few steps forward ? hot stinging water drowning his eyes.
?Responsible?? Countered the Chief, ?like hell I am!?
Abubakar lanced out and grabbed Harkins right ear, Harking fortunately did not react.
Harkin looked Abubakar in the eyes, he felt??something?, ?Bajorans?? he thought cynically.
?Your pah is strong?? Abubakar felt his eyes reach flaming heat, his teeth gritted and he saw a mass of loving flame envelop the space around them, saw the orange soak into their skin, heard the heat breathe...
Harkin succumbed to the sharpness of breath, ?what the hell do they do with this?? he wondered, watching a rather hyped up Lieutenant holding his frigging ear in rather uneventful silence.
Abubakar heard what the breaths were saying, he heard the air morph into words? Harkin was responsible, Abubakar spoke softly, barely above a whisper ?the true prophets of Bajor do not condone mass killing like the false gods do?? He swung his gripping hand sideways, slamming Harkins head into the bulkhead, following with a swift jab into his teeth with his left.
Harkin dropped after being smashed in the teeth, rolling forward he forced Jaran to stumble back ? he rolled quickly to the left avoiding the counter reaction of Jaran who fell flat on his face, leaving a small patch of blood on the floor as his face rolled off of it.
Abubakar jumped up, using purely his superior force to barrel into Harkin, knocking the wind out of him and tackling him to the floor, he thumped both hands down into the Chiefs stomach, then raised them again to bring them crashing down once more.
Harkin jabbed quickly at Jarans throat, causing his raised hands to instantly nurse the new injury ? creating chance for Harkin to bring a knee into Abubakars groin and flip him off, he grabbed at a knife on his table brought the blade swiftly down through Abubakars long hair that was on the floor, embedding it into the floor slightly.
?Give it the f**k up Lieutenant! Go and deal with it like the rest of us!? He barked, kicking Abubakar in the ribs before he stepped over him and walked out, leaving the Lieutenant writing on the floor in pain, fighting for breath whilst he was temporarily winded.
Abubakar growled through the pain, mostly through the indignity, he pulled the knife out of the ground, noticing that a fair chunk of his hair stayed attached. He seethed with rage and hate, staggered to his feet and out the door, heading towards sickbay, cradling a split eyebrow, lip, and the annoying loss of a tooth which cracked a whip of pain in his gum.
A JP by:
Chief Byan Telayr-Harkin
Chief Of the Boat.
U.S.S Malinche
and---
Lieutenant Abubakar Jaran
Deceased
The Anti-Lamb 666
Flying Monk-eh
U.S.S Malinche
"It is easier and more effective to destroy the enemy's aerial power by destroying his nests and eggs on the ground than to hunt his flying birds in the air." - General Giulio Douhet
-
Telayr-Harkin
- Senior Staff
- Posts: 3
- Joined: Sat Aug 26, 2006 6:41 pm
<<USS Malinche, Day 3>>
Harkin walked swiftly out of his quarters, without a backwards look.
The meeting with a Lieutenant Jaran has not gone exactly how he had hoped, but hopefully the Lieutenant had gotten the message, Harkin would not accept Joran's guilt, he had more than enough of his own.
"Deck Eleven, Crew Lounge" He said as he entered the turbolift.
He could tell that Jaran was not going to be the least bit professional about this situation, despite his status as an officer. Harkin had made enemies in postings before and not a single one had succeeded in taking him down, the Lieutenant was no different. However, Harkin was slightly concerned that he had made an enemy this quickly. When he had read the crew manifest and and noticed Jaran's name there he knew that their relationship would never be a smooth one in the least, it had just been proven.
He walked into the crew lounge and ordered a whiskey before sitting down by a view port.
He stared out at the planet, Dereidi, as he quietly sipped his drink, before gagging on it.
"Synthahol, I really hate that stuff."
"Yeah, its pretty crap, I definatly prefer real alcohol." Said a young Bolian crewman from behind him who quickly added a "Chief" as he noticed Harkin's rank.
"And what would you know about Alcohol, son? You don't even look old enough to be out of high school, let alone drinking alcohol."
The crewman looked very taken aback and almost hurt. Byan let out a small chuckle.
"I'll have to teach you about real Alcohol, I've got a really good stash, I'll let you try some sometime. Chief Telayr-Harkin, COB." He said as he smiled at the crewman.
The Bolian smiled at him "Vir Bolat."
Byan nodded and took another sip of his drink before another Crewman walked up to him.
"Chief, I have a message from Lieutenant Joran, he says you're to beam down to the Captain's location and report to her immediatly."
Harkin stood up quickly with a scowl on his face, causing the new crewan to recoil slightly. "And i'll bet he just wants me off the ship in general. Wouldn't suprise me if tried to leave me down there." He was tempted to contact the Captain and confirm these orders before leaving, but decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to undermine Jaran just yet. "You tell the Lieutenant that i'm on my way."
Harkin crossed the lounge and headed towards the nearest transporter room.
"One to beam to the Captain's location." He said to the Ensign as he entered the plush transporter room.
A few seconds later Byan felt the familiar feeling as his atoms were seperated and dematerialised. His vision cleared and immediatly looked for the nearest Starfleet officer.
"Where is the Captain?"
He was quickly pointed in the right direction intent on reporting to the Captain.
OFF:
TAG: Kersare.
Harkin walked swiftly out of his quarters, without a backwards look.
The meeting with a Lieutenant Jaran has not gone exactly how he had hoped, but hopefully the Lieutenant had gotten the message, Harkin would not accept Joran's guilt, he had more than enough of his own.
"Deck Eleven, Crew Lounge" He said as he entered the turbolift.
He could tell that Jaran was not going to be the least bit professional about this situation, despite his status as an officer. Harkin had made enemies in postings before and not a single one had succeeded in taking him down, the Lieutenant was no different. However, Harkin was slightly concerned that he had made an enemy this quickly. When he had read the crew manifest and and noticed Jaran's name there he knew that their relationship would never be a smooth one in the least, it had just been proven.
He walked into the crew lounge and ordered a whiskey before sitting down by a view port.
He stared out at the planet, Dereidi, as he quietly sipped his drink, before gagging on it.
"Synthahol, I really hate that stuff."
"Yeah, its pretty crap, I definatly prefer real alcohol." Said a young Bolian crewman from behind him who quickly added a "Chief" as he noticed Harkin's rank.
"And what would you know about Alcohol, son? You don't even look old enough to be out of high school, let alone drinking alcohol."
The crewman looked very taken aback and almost hurt. Byan let out a small chuckle.
"I'll have to teach you about real Alcohol, I've got a really good stash, I'll let you try some sometime. Chief Telayr-Harkin, COB." He said as he smiled at the crewman.
The Bolian smiled at him "Vir Bolat."
Byan nodded and took another sip of his drink before another Crewman walked up to him.
"Chief, I have a message from Lieutenant Joran, he says you're to beam down to the Captain's location and report to her immediatly."
Harkin stood up quickly with a scowl on his face, causing the new crewan to recoil slightly. "And i'll bet he just wants me off the ship in general. Wouldn't suprise me if tried to leave me down there." He was tempted to contact the Captain and confirm these orders before leaving, but decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to undermine Jaran just yet. "You tell the Lieutenant that i'm on my way."
Harkin crossed the lounge and headed towards the nearest transporter room.
"One to beam to the Captain's location." He said to the Ensign as he entered the plush transporter room.
A few seconds later Byan felt the familiar feeling as his atoms were seperated and dematerialised. His vision cleared and immediatly looked for the nearest Starfleet officer.
"Where is the Captain?"
He was quickly pointed in the right direction intent on reporting to the Captain.
OFF:
TAG: Kersare.
<img src="http://ussmalinche.kersare.net/images/r-VVV0.jpg">
Chief Petty Officer Byan Telayr-Harkin
Chief Of The Boat
USS Malinche
"Ex Insania, Sapientia"
Chief Petty Officer Byan Telayr-Harkin
Chief Of The Boat
USS Malinche
"Ex Insania, Sapientia"
-
Thundera
- Senior Staff
- Posts: 185
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:35 pm
- Location: Nasty Borg Bitch!
- Contact:
ON:<<Dereidi>>
<Basement Warehouse, 1943, Day 3>
"Ok, looks like we are trapped in here. Fan out but try and stay close together report anything that would help us get out. Thundera keep your mind open I know it will be difficult for you but please try. Soren your with me." barked Hunt.
"Here we go again", Cheetara said to herself as she began to walk away from the group. She was getting tired of all the puzzles, not to mention the pain that would keep hitting her. She pulled her tricorder back out to scan the room to see what she could find.
"It all seems normal enough, but something ain't right", she mumbled to herself knowing her team wasn't gonna really hear her anyway while she walked across the room and through the crowd. She watched the unusual fluctuations in the readings. They seemed to be more intense than what they had picked up before, yet the images had died down in her head, and the pain was more subdued. This puzzled her a great deal. She decided to change the connection pattern that was hooked up to her node to change it from her mental brainwaves, to her sight images. Instantly her infered light beam came from her implant as she scanned the room.
"Commander, over here!", she yelled across the room.
<tag Hunt>
"Sir, take a look at this", she said as he arrived. "It seems most of this isn't real at all. Like most of it is holographic. The exits don't work because they aren't really there. Neither are these people that we see dancing before us." she paused as she turned to scan more of the room. "Over there!" she exclaimed pointing to a man with dark hair dressed in a white tux dancing with a lady in a pink gown that flowed out by the hips. "Life signs".
<tag Hunt>
As they walked toward them, she kept scanning. She began to pick up some other fluctuations that could be a possible 'real' exit to this simulation.
OFF: <Tag Hunt/All>
<Basement Warehouse, 1943, Day 3>
"Ok, looks like we are trapped in here. Fan out but try and stay close together report anything that would help us get out. Thundera keep your mind open I know it will be difficult for you but please try. Soren your with me." barked Hunt.
"Here we go again", Cheetara said to herself as she began to walk away from the group. She was getting tired of all the puzzles, not to mention the pain that would keep hitting her. She pulled her tricorder back out to scan the room to see what she could find.
"It all seems normal enough, but something ain't right", she mumbled to herself knowing her team wasn't gonna really hear her anyway while she walked across the room and through the crowd. She watched the unusual fluctuations in the readings. They seemed to be more intense than what they had picked up before, yet the images had died down in her head, and the pain was more subdued. This puzzled her a great deal. She decided to change the connection pattern that was hooked up to her node to change it from her mental brainwaves, to her sight images. Instantly her infered light beam came from her implant as she scanned the room.
"Commander, over here!", she yelled across the room.
<tag Hunt>
"Sir, take a look at this", she said as he arrived. "It seems most of this isn't real at all. Like most of it is holographic. The exits don't work because they aren't really there. Neither are these people that we see dancing before us." she paused as she turned to scan more of the room. "Over there!" she exclaimed pointing to a man with dark hair dressed in a white tux dancing with a lady in a pink gown that flowed out by the hips. "Life signs".
<tag Hunt>
As they walked toward them, she kept scanning. She began to pick up some other fluctuations that could be a possible 'real' exit to this simulation.
OFF: <Tag Hunt/All>
Lieutenant Cheetara Thundera
Chief Science Officer
USS Malinche NCC 38997-A
ON:
<Basement Warehouse, 1945, day 3>>
Mason moved over to Thundera who was holding out her tri-corder at a spot in the room. This was someone?s idea of a funhouse however he was not at all amused. Even though he wasn?t a telepath he felt the closure the closure of long awaited answers to un answered questions.
?What is it Lieutenant?? asked Mason frowning all about the room hoping to spot something that give them a way out.
>>"Sir, take a look at this", she said as he arrived. "It seems most of this isn't real at all. Like most of it is holographic. The exits don't work because they aren't really there. Neither are these people that we see dancing before us." she paused as she turned to scan more of the room. "Over there!" she exclaimed pointing to a man with dark hair dressed in a white tux dancing with a lady in a pink gown that flowed out by the hips. "Life signs".<<
Before she had a chance to run over, Hunt pulled her back. He knew this room was not real but there was also a chance the readings she was getting was a ruse to further throw them of the track.
?Alright Thundera, let?s move in but carefully phasers to stun watch your backs. No surprises.? Said Mason walking alongside her to the couple.
As they grew in closer it seemed the couple were as happy as could be but both smiles and facial expressions seemed rather eerie and scary to the group. Mason was less than an inch away from the man. While they were beginning to come around for another dance step the first officer noticed his eyes dropping and very baggy as if he had not slept in days.
?Lieutenant, do you sense anything from either of them?? asked Mason.
<Tag Thundera>
The woman by the same token was in the same cantonic state as the man. Hunt wished the good doctor was there but he had to make due what was at hand. At taking a risk Mason stepped in pulling both the man and woman apart. He waved for Thundera to hold her away from her dance partner while he took out the hypospray?s.
?Thundera, give them just enough to bring them out of this state.? Said Mason.
<Tag Thundera>
?I know its risky Lieutenant but as it stands right now time is winding down and we have little answers.?
<Tag Thundera>
OFF: Tag Thundera
<Basement Warehouse, 1945, day 3>>
Mason moved over to Thundera who was holding out her tri-corder at a spot in the room. This was someone?s idea of a funhouse however he was not at all amused. Even though he wasn?t a telepath he felt the closure the closure of long awaited answers to un answered questions.
?What is it Lieutenant?? asked Mason frowning all about the room hoping to spot something that give them a way out.
>>"Sir, take a look at this", she said as he arrived. "It seems most of this isn't real at all. Like most of it is holographic. The exits don't work because they aren't really there. Neither are these people that we see dancing before us." she paused as she turned to scan more of the room. "Over there!" she exclaimed pointing to a man with dark hair dressed in a white tux dancing with a lady in a pink gown that flowed out by the hips. "Life signs".<<
Before she had a chance to run over, Hunt pulled her back. He knew this room was not real but there was also a chance the readings she was getting was a ruse to further throw them of the track.
?Alright Thundera, let?s move in but carefully phasers to stun watch your backs. No surprises.? Said Mason walking alongside her to the couple.
As they grew in closer it seemed the couple were as happy as could be but both smiles and facial expressions seemed rather eerie and scary to the group. Mason was less than an inch away from the man. While they were beginning to come around for another dance step the first officer noticed his eyes dropping and very baggy as if he had not slept in days.
?Lieutenant, do you sense anything from either of them?? asked Mason.
<Tag Thundera>
The woman by the same token was in the same cantonic state as the man. Hunt wished the good doctor was there but he had to make due what was at hand. At taking a risk Mason stepped in pulling both the man and woman apart. He waved for Thundera to hold her away from her dance partner while he took out the hypospray?s.
?Thundera, give them just enough to bring them out of this state.? Said Mason.
<Tag Thundera>
?I know its risky Lieutenant but as it stands right now time is winding down and we have little answers.?
<Tag Thundera>
OFF: Tag Thundera
Commander Mason Hunt
First Officer
USS Malinche NCC 38897-B
<<Sickbay, USS Malinche, Day 3, 2040 hours>>
The moment Yrel set foot inside sickbay, she was stopped by a chirp at her
comm badge.
"Tamlin to Sovereign," came the young voice of a nervous officer. Not
surprising, a lot of officers were green in the lower ranks. The question
that she quickly asked herself was why was an ensign contacting her? Wasn't
Tamlin a bridge officer in the absence of his superior? If so, where's
Jaran?
"Sovereign here," she replied, cutting her pointless questions to an end so
she could get an answer.
"You need to come to the bridge, ma'am," was the response.
"Oh? ...Why?" she said first, paused, and shook her head. "Nevermind, I'm on
my way." She spun on her heel, leaving the sickbay personnel in a bit of
puzzlement as the doors hissed closed behind her and she made her way to the
turbolift.
<Bridge>
A couple minutes later, the doors of the lift opened and she stepped foot on
the bridge.
<i>'Kinda lean,'</i> she thought upon initial reaction. <i>'But can be
expected for a warship, eh?'</i>
Yrel walked over to the big set of command chairs where the nervous Ensign
Tamlin sat, taking notice of her and turning to face her.
"You have the bridge," he said in collected measured tones. "Orders of the
Captain."
Yrel froze, staring at the ensign. The bridge fell silent as everyone tried
to continue their work, while keeping an open ear to the center of the
bridge. Yrel couldn't hear the standard beeps and chirps that came standard
with the use of consoles, she had dulled it out after hearing the ensign's
words.
"Come again?" she said at almost a whisper. Tamlin looked around at some of
the 'busy' officers around the bridge, likely a bit uncertain whether he had
been heard or not and just what to do.
"Uh...you...have the...bridge."
More silence.
<i>'What the hell is going on around here. Is it just me, or has everything
gone balisitic on this mission. Find the Sirion crew, that's <b>supposed</b>
to be an easy task. How did the chief science officer come into
command?'</i> she though in rapid outrage. She a took a breath after
repeating that to herself, and then straigthened her shoulders. <i>'Sovak
did it, didn't she? That wasn't so out of the norm. Calm down, Yrel, this is
what happens when you're a full Lieuy.'</i>
"Okay, I have the bridge," she said to the ensign. "Anything I should know?"
"The captain wants to speak with you. We have her on standby."
"Well, put her on."
"Right, ma'am," he went back to his station and a moment later Kersare's
voice was speaking through the bridge-comm.
"Lieutenant Sovereign?"
"Captain, what's going on?" she asked in as simple terms as she could put
it. Some captains hated that level of informality in the face of an inferior
they've hardly met, and some thought of it as the display of potential for
future command. Yrel made a gamble on it, seeing as there was bigger issues
at hand than the captain's perception of her.
Isabel replied, "As I'm sure you're aware, the weapons signature analysis indicated that the Borg are responsible for the disappearance of the USS Sirion. Further, Lieutenant Abubakar was able to ascertain more or less what happened, and Ensign Sychorski was sent in a shuttle and tracking a vessel at the edge of the system."
Allowing the more recent news to sink in a moment, Isabel then continued, "As the Malinche was unable to raise anyone in Commander Hunt's party, I ordered him to send the new Chief of the Boat to me and go find them himself, leaving you in charge. Unfortunately, he disagreed with my decision and chose to remove himself from duty, under the guard of Ensign Stone."
"Oh..." was all she could say in reply, trying to heft herself in the large
encompassing chair that was the captain's. That was a lot to let sink in,
and a lot to be responsible for. She straightened her uniform with the
smooth of her overcoat, and cleared her voice. "Orders?"
"Keep track of the vessel at the edge of the system and make sure any and all appropriate scans are being used, but don't get too close. I do not want the Malinche to pursue it until the Senior Staff is all found and back aboard. As you're well aware, the Borg are not something to be taken lightly. If in doubt, err on the side of caution," Isabel ordered.
"Will do, ma'am," she replied. "Anything else?"
A thought entered Isabel's mind, though she wasn't entirely sure if it would be possible. Luckily she was talking to her Chief Science Officer. "I have an idea, though I'm not sure it would work; you would probably be better able to tell me, or least to investigate the possibility," Isabel began. Putting the thoughts together, she continued, "Would there be a way to safely track the vessel? Cover it with particles that we could trace or something of the like? I'm not sure if something like that would work, but anything you could think of that would help us to find the vessel in case it moves out of range would be helpful."
"I see where you're going, ma'am. I'll look into it, see what I can do. What are my orders if Jaran escapes?" she threw that out as a precaution.
Being captain rank, and the fact that Jaran's a come-again officer, it was a
good idea to use someone like Kersare a resource of knowledge for handling
the...chaotic?...officer.
"Lieutenant, please have Ensign Tamlin transfer this to my Ready Room and let me know when you're there." Yrel's question was right on the mark, but Isabel didn't want to reveal anything publically.
Yrel stood up from the confines of the overly comfortable captain's chair and headed over to the Ready Room. Another first in a short period of time, going into the Ready Room as a In-Command Officer. A lot of things were going on real fast, and she couldn't let this all overwhelm her in not doing her job.
The signal was trnasfered in and Yrel took a seat behind the desk.
"Alright, you can continue, ma'am."
Isabel sighed inwardly, the chances of Jaran escaping had been weighing heavily on her mind, and even one of her newest officers could see the potential difficulties. A good quality for Yrel, no doubt. "See if either you or a security officer can't get some form of tracking device on him immediately - I'd recommend doing it yourself if possible, otherwise try to find some you feel you can trust with the matter. I would hope he will not escape, but to be honest, I almost expect it. At least doing this we would be able to track his movements. Ijust hope he doesn't put himself or others in danger."
"My concern, exactly."
"Contact me if you have any difficulties or discover anything new; also please be sure to send the Chief of the Boat down. Good luck, Lieutenant. Kersare out."
The signal cut dead and Yrel was left in charge of a warship, just like
that. A woman with expertise in science and medicine(a bit), was now having
to juggle around a variety of problems and keep the lives of remaining
aboard crew safe.
<i>'Now you're wondering why you left home afterall, huh?'</i> her mind
snickered.
OFF, JP brought to you by
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche
and...
The moment Yrel set foot inside sickbay, she was stopped by a chirp at her
comm badge.
"Tamlin to Sovereign," came the young voice of a nervous officer. Not
surprising, a lot of officers were green in the lower ranks. The question
that she quickly asked herself was why was an ensign contacting her? Wasn't
Tamlin a bridge officer in the absence of his superior? If so, where's
Jaran?
"Sovereign here," she replied, cutting her pointless questions to an end so
she could get an answer.
"You need to come to the bridge, ma'am," was the response.
"Oh? ...Why?" she said first, paused, and shook her head. "Nevermind, I'm on
my way." She spun on her heel, leaving the sickbay personnel in a bit of
puzzlement as the doors hissed closed behind her and she made her way to the
turbolift.
<Bridge>
A couple minutes later, the doors of the lift opened and she stepped foot on
the bridge.
<i>'Kinda lean,'</i> she thought upon initial reaction. <i>'But can be
expected for a warship, eh?'</i>
Yrel walked over to the big set of command chairs where the nervous Ensign
Tamlin sat, taking notice of her and turning to face her.
"You have the bridge," he said in collected measured tones. "Orders of the
Captain."
Yrel froze, staring at the ensign. The bridge fell silent as everyone tried
to continue their work, while keeping an open ear to the center of the
bridge. Yrel couldn't hear the standard beeps and chirps that came standard
with the use of consoles, she had dulled it out after hearing the ensign's
words.
"Come again?" she said at almost a whisper. Tamlin looked around at some of
the 'busy' officers around the bridge, likely a bit uncertain whether he had
been heard or not and just what to do.
"Uh...you...have the...bridge."
More silence.
<i>'What the hell is going on around here. Is it just me, or has everything
gone balisitic on this mission. Find the Sirion crew, that's <b>supposed</b>
to be an easy task. How did the chief science officer come into
command?'</i> she though in rapid outrage. She a took a breath after
repeating that to herself, and then straigthened her shoulders. <i>'Sovak
did it, didn't she? That wasn't so out of the norm. Calm down, Yrel, this is
what happens when you're a full Lieuy.'</i>
"Okay, I have the bridge," she said to the ensign. "Anything I should know?"
"The captain wants to speak with you. We have her on standby."
"Well, put her on."
"Right, ma'am," he went back to his station and a moment later Kersare's
voice was speaking through the bridge-comm.
"Lieutenant Sovereign?"
"Captain, what's going on?" she asked in as simple terms as she could put
it. Some captains hated that level of informality in the face of an inferior
they've hardly met, and some thought of it as the display of potential for
future command. Yrel made a gamble on it, seeing as there was bigger issues
at hand than the captain's perception of her.
Isabel replied, "As I'm sure you're aware, the weapons signature analysis indicated that the Borg are responsible for the disappearance of the USS Sirion. Further, Lieutenant Abubakar was able to ascertain more or less what happened, and Ensign Sychorski was sent in a shuttle and tracking a vessel at the edge of the system."
Allowing the more recent news to sink in a moment, Isabel then continued, "As the Malinche was unable to raise anyone in Commander Hunt's party, I ordered him to send the new Chief of the Boat to me and go find them himself, leaving you in charge. Unfortunately, he disagreed with my decision and chose to remove himself from duty, under the guard of Ensign Stone."
"Oh..." was all she could say in reply, trying to heft herself in the large
encompassing chair that was the captain's. That was a lot to let sink in,
and a lot to be responsible for. She straightened her uniform with the
smooth of her overcoat, and cleared her voice. "Orders?"
"Keep track of the vessel at the edge of the system and make sure any and all appropriate scans are being used, but don't get too close. I do not want the Malinche to pursue it until the Senior Staff is all found and back aboard. As you're well aware, the Borg are not something to be taken lightly. If in doubt, err on the side of caution," Isabel ordered.
"Will do, ma'am," she replied. "Anything else?"
A thought entered Isabel's mind, though she wasn't entirely sure if it would be possible. Luckily she was talking to her Chief Science Officer. "I have an idea, though I'm not sure it would work; you would probably be better able to tell me, or least to investigate the possibility," Isabel began. Putting the thoughts together, she continued, "Would there be a way to safely track the vessel? Cover it with particles that we could trace or something of the like? I'm not sure if something like that would work, but anything you could think of that would help us to find the vessel in case it moves out of range would be helpful."
"I see where you're going, ma'am. I'll look into it, see what I can do. What are my orders if Jaran escapes?" she threw that out as a precaution.
Being captain rank, and the fact that Jaran's a come-again officer, it was a
good idea to use someone like Kersare a resource of knowledge for handling
the...chaotic?...officer.
"Lieutenant, please have Ensign Tamlin transfer this to my Ready Room and let me know when you're there." Yrel's question was right on the mark, but Isabel didn't want to reveal anything publically.
Yrel stood up from the confines of the overly comfortable captain's chair and headed over to the Ready Room. Another first in a short period of time, going into the Ready Room as a In-Command Officer. A lot of things were going on real fast, and she couldn't let this all overwhelm her in not doing her job.
The signal was trnasfered in and Yrel took a seat behind the desk.
"Alright, you can continue, ma'am."
Isabel sighed inwardly, the chances of Jaran escaping had been weighing heavily on her mind, and even one of her newest officers could see the potential difficulties. A good quality for Yrel, no doubt. "See if either you or a security officer can't get some form of tracking device on him immediately - I'd recommend doing it yourself if possible, otherwise try to find some you feel you can trust with the matter. I would hope he will not escape, but to be honest, I almost expect it. At least doing this we would be able to track his movements. Ijust hope he doesn't put himself or others in danger."
"My concern, exactly."
"Contact me if you have any difficulties or discover anything new; also please be sure to send the Chief of the Boat down. Good luck, Lieutenant. Kersare out."
The signal cut dead and Yrel was left in charge of a warship, just like
that. A woman with expertise in science and medicine(a bit), was now having
to juggle around a variety of problems and keep the lives of remaining
aboard crew safe.
<i>'Now you're wondering why you left home afterall, huh?'</i> her mind
snickered.
OFF, JP brought to you by
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche
and...
Lieutenant Yrel Sovereign
Chief Science Officer & Second Executive Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
-
Thundera
- Senior Staff
- Posts: 185
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:35 pm
- Location: Nasty Borg Bitch!
- Contact:
OOC: It should be Day 3 in our posts. Correction is noted in this one.
ON:<<Dereidi>>
<Basement Warehouse, 1943, Day 3>
?Lieutenant, do you sense anything from either of them?? asked Mason.
Cheetara looked back and forth into the couple's eyes. "Fear" she replied softly. "They are very troubled and scared. Almost trapped, unable to escape" she explained further as best she could.
The woman by the same token was in the same cantonic state as the man. Hunt wished the good doctor was there but he had to make due what was at hand. At taking a risk Mason stepped in pulling both the man and woman apart. He waved for Thundera to hold her away from her dance partner while he took out the hypospray?s.
?Thundera, give them just enough to bring them out of this state.? Said Mason.
"But Sir, it could shock their system. Possibly destroy their minds" she argued
?I know its risky Lieutenant but as it stands right now time is winding down and we have little answers.?
Cheetara placed the hypospray up to the woman's neck and injected her. As the woman came to, Cheetara winced in pain from the flood of emotions from the woman's consciousness.
"Who are you?" the woman shrieked in horror from the sight of Cheetara's borg nodes and struggled to get free.
"Calm down, I'm here to help" Cheetara tried to explain holding her tight so she couldn't run.
"Let me go" the woman paused as she struggled harder. "NOW!" she screamed.
"I said I'm here to help, don't fight me." Cheetara answered her. "I'll let you go, but don't move. I need to help your friend over there" she explained pointing to where Hunt was holding the man.
Cheetara slowly released her grip of the woman and made her way to where Hunt was holding the man. She took the hypospray and placed it up to his neck to administer the same antineutralizer that she had administered to the woman.
OFF: <Tag Hunt>
ON:<<Dereidi>>
<Basement Warehouse, 1943, Day 3>
?Lieutenant, do you sense anything from either of them?? asked Mason.
Cheetara looked back and forth into the couple's eyes. "Fear" she replied softly. "They are very troubled and scared. Almost trapped, unable to escape" she explained further as best she could.
The woman by the same token was in the same cantonic state as the man. Hunt wished the good doctor was there but he had to make due what was at hand. At taking a risk Mason stepped in pulling both the man and woman apart. He waved for Thundera to hold her away from her dance partner while he took out the hypospray?s.
?Thundera, give them just enough to bring them out of this state.? Said Mason.
"But Sir, it could shock their system. Possibly destroy their minds" she argued
?I know its risky Lieutenant but as it stands right now time is winding down and we have little answers.?
Cheetara placed the hypospray up to the woman's neck and injected her. As the woman came to, Cheetara winced in pain from the flood of emotions from the woman's consciousness.
"Who are you?" the woman shrieked in horror from the sight of Cheetara's borg nodes and struggled to get free.
"Calm down, I'm here to help" Cheetara tried to explain holding her tight so she couldn't run.
"Let me go" the woman paused as she struggled harder. "NOW!" she screamed.
"I said I'm here to help, don't fight me." Cheetara answered her. "I'll let you go, but don't move. I need to help your friend over there" she explained pointing to where Hunt was holding the man.
Cheetara slowly released her grip of the woman and made her way to where Hunt was holding the man. She took the hypospray and placed it up to his neck to administer the same antineutralizer that she had administered to the woman.
OFF: <Tag Hunt>
Lieutenant Cheetara Thundera
Chief Science Officer
USS Malinche NCC 38997-A