USS Malinche NCC-38997-A

(Short post to get the tricorder into Peters' hands.)

ON

[USS Malinche MD03 1525 Deck 5]

Leaving the beta bridge, Akios and S'erak made their way towards beta Engineering.

"Sorry about my reaction back there," Akios said to the vulcan, "but with us anticipating a borg encounter, and the ship having mysterious malfunctions originating in beta section, and the first person I see in beta having implants...well, you do the math."

"I am not the one you should apologize to, sir," S'erak countered.

Then it was back to the Jeffries tubes, and a short crawl down to Deck 5. The corridor was much more active than the one they'd passed through above, with damage control teams everywhere. S'erak confirmed that Lt. Peters was in the auxiliary Engineering section.

Entering the compartment, the aurelian and vulcan made their way to Peters.

"Sir, we have two of the modified tricorders with us. They're rigged to work as communicators. I've sent Dirland to the bridge with one, Lt. Thundera has one in the beta Auxiliary Control, and Altin is still in alpha Engineering modifying more."

OFF

<Tag, Peters>

<USS Malinche, Turbolift, MD03, 1535>

The turbolift hummed along the shaft making the short journey to the bridge, Jack stood patiently waiting for it to arrive when the lift went silent, pitch black and abruptly stopped, the force of which caused him to fall forward into the doors, cracking his head on the metal.

He steadied himself against the wall as the emergency lighting came on, he could feel blood dripping down from his forehead onto his cheek, ?Ow!? he said as he waited for the dizziness to pass. Once it did he tried the comm panel next to the door, hoping to contact someone to get him out, but the panel was as dead as his combadge, he sighed, ?Oh that?s great...?

He started banging on the door, calling out for anyone on the other side, but after a few minutes and no response he figured he was either near a deserted area of the ship of the lift was stuck somewhere between floors.

His head continued to throb as he tried to force the doors open, an act that proved impossible with any force he could generate, which left him only one option, to try and climb up if he was stuck near a vertical shaft.

He was relieved to see that he was when he finally managed to get the roof panel off the car, after jumping and hauling himself onto the roof he had to wait a few minutes for a bout of dizziness to pass before looking up to check where he was, he had caught a lucky break and was only a couple of metres from a door, he took a deep breath and began climbing the access ladder.

Jack arrived at the door and once again started banging his hands against the metal, this time hearing muffled voices on the other side, followed by clunking and scrapping as the door was forced open, revealing the bridge and several confused crewmembers.

?What can I say? I like to make an entrance..?

<<USS Malinche, Sickbay, 1530, Day 3>>

Chelsie (NPC) looked around Sickbay, a mass of chaos surrounding her. Not only were there the regular amount of crew with injuries, there were the Sirion survivors from the escape pods... Plus, since life support had failed on 4 decks, Security Officers were bringing crewmembers who were unconscious. For the time being, she had been given the task of taking care of any Sirion crewmembers, which was, of course, complicated by the flashing consoles and random other failures currently occuring.

Looking over at one of the biobeds, she noticed a woman in Sciences teal - a Sirion survivor. Chelsie made her way over and gave her a smile, "Hello, I'm Nurse Marsid. Is there anything I can do for you?"

The woman at first didn't quite register what the nurse was saying. She looked around, a bit disorientated, blinked a could of times first. Oh, it was all happening so fast, too fast...

''I'm... I'm...'' the woman glared at unknown face and lifted a hand to go through her hair. ''I'm Regina,'' she finally said. ''Regina Roberts, ummm... science officer.'' She looked around again, now getting things more clearly.

''There were explosions all over the ship and the order was to get off and...'' she began to talk while she was looking at the chaos around her and the faces, some grimased in pain, people unconscious...

She brought her hand back and looked at it, at the small smear of blood on her palm... ''Where am I?'' she finally asked, keeping her panic levels down.

Chelsie looked at the woman sympathetically, "You're on the USS Malinche Ms. Roberts - in Sickbay. We rescued you and some other Sirion crewmembers from escape pods."

''How many, what... the Borg...''Regina suddenly remembered and understood the entire thing and gave away a short, histeric laugh: ''On the bright side, I sort of arrived to the ship I was transfered too...'' she wiped a tear and looked around. She was still inj a state of shock. ''Quite a party I got...''

"I'm afraid things are a little...hectic...here right now. There have been some malfunctions on the ship, which has complicated things and given us even more patients," the nurse said. Her eyes moved to Regina's hand, noticing the blood. Chelsie motioned to the hand, "Here, let me take a look at that."

Regina let nurse take her hand while she was looking around the sickbay, trying to make out a face or two that she'd known. It just couldn't be that everyone she knew for the past two weeks perished...

Chelsie gently took the hand in her own and inspected it carefully. There seemed to be a laceration across the palm. She looked up at the Science Officer, "It's not too bad - not deep. I'll clean it up and use the dermal regenerator - should be good as new in a few minutes."

Since she had rushed to Sickbay on Captain Kersare's orders, Nora had found herself completely occupied in the rush and madness all around her. Flitting from person to person, the counselor did her best to address the psychological needs of those she spoke with, delegating to other counselors where they were most needed. Looking to her empathic capabilities, Nora made her way to a young woman seated on a biobed, obviously a Sirion survivor, and the nurse that was attending her.

"Everything all right here, nurse?" she asked in a calm voice, struggling to recall her name. She hadn't been on the Malinche very long, and with all of the chaos, learning names was next to impossible for her.

Looking back at the woman on the biobed, Nora smiled warmly and introduced herself. "I'm Doctor Nora Zeral, Chief Counselor. You can call me Counselor Zeral, if you like, or just plain Nora. I go by almost any name." There was some humor in her voice, and it was clear she was trying to lighten the mood as much as possible.

''I'm Regina Roberts,'' Regina said. There was this state of calmness in Councellor's eyes that she needed. ''You can call me whatever you like...'' she added and smiled. ''I just got here...''Regina said quieter this time.

"All set," Chelsie said with a reassuring smile. "Your hand should be good as new now. I'll leave you in Doctor Zeral's capable hands. Let me know if you need anything." With a nod and smile to each of the two women, the nurse moved to another patient.

Nora nodded, thanking the woman as she moved on. Turning back to Regina, she looked her over in a quick glance. She appeared a little shaken up, but the counselor had every reason to believe she'd make a quick recovery. "Would you like to talk about what happened, Regina?" she offered, doing her best to block out the chaotic emotions all around her so she could focus solely on Regina.

''Well,'' Regina started to talk: ''The Borg attacked, we weren't in best shape and we had to evacuate... There's really not much to talk about. There was nothing I could do...'' Reginas' eye wet as she sighed: ''I just can't believe it really happened...''

"That's understandable," the counselor replied, nodding sagely. "I was on a ship that faced the Borg a few years ago. It's something I'll never forget, especially since it was my first assignment. But with time comes healing, as I'm sure you'll find." Nora paused, letting her own memories slip away. "You can speak with me anytime you like while you're here, of course, if it helps," she added, not wanting to push Regina to speak any more about the attack unless she was truly ready and willing.

''Thanks, I will... '' Regina smiled a bit. The fact that she wasn't the only one with an experience like that, was comforting. But talking further about it wouldn't do much good right now. She needed to sort things out for herself first, to forget about all the whole experience and then deal with what's left, alone or with someone's help.

''I think I won't be holding you up much longer,'' Regina said and looked around. ''I'm fine, I should help with something. Could you help me find something? I'm sure there's some vacancies right now.''

"Welcome aboard!" Nora laughed, truly surprised at the turn of events. "I guess you are early, but I'm glad you made it safely here." She looked around Sickbay once more, trying to discern if there was anyone who could point Regina in the right direction. Since Nora was newly arrived herself, she had yet to gain her own footing on the Malinche, let alone help someone else to do so. Smiling back at Regina, she admitted, "I'm not exactly sure where you should be, but I'm sure we can find someone who would know."

''Shouldn't be too difficult, I was looking over the specs just before the Borg...'' Regina stopped in the midle of sentence and got up. There was no need for further talk about it. As soon as she found out on what deck she was on, she would know where to go ? if her memory didn't give up on her.

'Deck 6' it said on a wall in a corridor when she stepped out of the Sickbay. ''Thank you for your help,'' she turned towards the counselor and smiled before she walked off, towards the turbolift. Science Labs were on deck 8 if she remembered correctly and if she could read from the pannels in on the walls.

OFF: JP by:

Lieutenant JG Nora Zeral
Chief Counselor

Nurse Chelsie Marsid (NPC)
played by Michelle

and

<<USS Malinche, Bridge, 1525 Day 3>>

Mason was making preparations when he was tapped on the shoulder by an ensign who was passing around cups of rationed water. The atmosphere on the bridge was a bit more humid than the norm but each on it were pulling their all in carrying out their duties.

Suddenly his terminal began to flicker on and off as he was fiddling about with his coil spanner. Finally it stopped blinking and began to relay information on the screen.

?The voice interface will take some time to come back up Captain however I am able to access the back up programs for the aft ops, science and life support systems. Due to current power levels they will be working at half power.? Said Mason.

<Tag Kersare>

?With your permission Captain I can set up a remote link from one of the aft stations. That way we can get a deck by deck readout as well as some communications.? Asked Mason.

OFF

ON: <Deck 4, USS Sirion, 1520, Day 3>

Lange walked slowly and cautiously along the corridor, the group of Starfleet officers from his security team and the Sirion's survivors following behind him. Daggerd was a bit ahead, having insisted on taking point. True to their nature, the Borg had largely ignored the Starfleet personnel since they'd started walking around the ship. The ship's assimilation, however, was far from the Borg norm.

According to everything Lange had ever seen about the Borg, when they assimilated a ship they started from one key area and moved steadily outward from there. The Sirion seemed to be assimilated in a patchwork fashion, with Borg conduits and panels running around and across Starfleet equipment, then just stopping, to pick up again a few meters down the corridor. It was almost as if the Borg on the Sirion were suffering from a collective case of ADD.

A sudden noise from a nearby Jeffries Tube access hatch jerked Lange out of his musings and caused the other officers to become even more alert. The security guards quickly shifted their phaser rifles to point in that direction.

The hatch doors parted slowly as a bar, forced into the cracks, strained to open the accessway. An inch at first, then two followed by a single set of fingers probing their way through the opening. As the hatch doors slowly slid open, another set of fingers found their way free onto the opposing door followed by the retrieval of the bar. The struggle to open the hatch gave way to several grunts and a strained voice, finally to be met with the door relinquishing to what it had been fighting all this while.

A leg began to exit the shaft followed by the barrel of a Starfleet phaser at the end of a man's hand. To the man's shock he was met by Lange's team of officers, a sight he wasn't expecting to see. Stepping forth into the corridor, he raised a hand to cover his eyes, straining to make out who was before him. The lone officer, an middle-aged African American man dressed in a Starfleet Medical blue uniform and sporting the pips of a Lieutenant, spoke up.

"What the..." he began, only to find himself speechless.

"Captain James Lange, USS Sentinel. And you would be Lieutenant..." Lange said to the officer as he motioned for the security officers to take up guard positions.

"Sheppard," the man replied in a deep voice, his eyes finally adjusting the light. "Gabriel Sheppard. Chief Medical Officer of the Sirion... or what's left of her."

"Glad to find you alive, Doctor. Tell me, do you have any thoughts on a way to rescue your assimilated crewmates? I'd rather not just kill them without at least making an attempt to save them." Lange gave a humorless smile. "Not exactly my style."

Doctor Sheppard nodded in agreement. "Until recently, I had been working on a way to counter the affects of the Borg nanoprobes," the Doctor began,"...to halt the assimilation process if not reverse it all together. Then, without warning, the Borg seemed to awaken and take notice of us again."

Sheppard shook his head and scowled, the anger welling up from deep inside of him. "Before anyone knew what was happening, we lost eight more crew... my entire medical team... gone. Sickbay was all but destroyed."

"Well, a sickbay I can supply you with, as well as a full set of science labs. The Sentinel's a bit short on medical staff, but we have a full complement of holographic doctors." Lange thought for a minute. "As a matter of fact, the Malinche's crew may be working on something similar to what you were researching. You may be able to compare notes with them."

Wiping dirt and sweat from his brow, Sheppard nodded once again. "And I would suggest we do so soon, Captain." he replied. "If you wouldn't mind leading the way..."

"Well, fortunately we don't have too far to go." Lange tapped his commbadge. "Lange to Sentinel. I have a group of Sirion survivors to be beamed aboard. Their Chief Medical Officer is to be taken directly to sickbay to start work on a way to save the assimilated crew. Standby for transport."

Lange turned back to Sheppard as his signal was acknowledged. "Is there anything you want to get from the ship's computer or any of your possessions you want to grab before you transport over?"

"I wiped the medical logs before Sickbay was made part of the 'hive'," the Doctor replied. For the first time since Lange had seen Sheppard, a smile came over his face. "...but not before I made this..." Reaching into a pocket on his sleeve, Gabriel withdrew an isolinear chip. "I can continue my research and hopefully synthesize a nano-probe resistant antibody with what's on this chip."

"Then by all means, let's get you started." Lange returned the smile.

"By all mean, indeed," the Doctor replied as he returned the chip to its pocket.

Tapping his commbadge again, Lange looked around. "Sentinel, Lock onto all lifeforms other than the away team within three meters of my position and transport them aboard. And if you would, tell Commander Keane and Chief Nira that they can bring their team over whenever they're ready...but tell them to come armed and that they should try not to disturb the drones. We'll meet them back on the bridge."

"Acknowledged, Captain," came the reply.

Sheppard took position with the surviving members of the Sirion crew and awaited the Sentinel's transport. "Thank you, Captain," Sheppard added, moments before the Sentinel beamed he and the Sirion crew away. "...and good luck."

"Thank you, Doc, good luck to you also." Lange watched Sheppard, Stevens, and the other Sirion crew disappear in a blue twinkling haze, then looked at his security team. "Alright guys, you heard me. Back to the bridge."

OFF:


A JP With:

LT Gabriel Sheppard
Chief Medical Officer
USS Sirion
_________________
Tony
AKA
Captain James Lange
Commanding Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673
Task Force 22, Horizon Fleet

<USS Sentinel, Bridge, MD03, 1520>

Samas had returned to the Ops station on the bridge and began looking over the most recent scans on the Sirion when something caught his eye on the Malinche.

?Commander, I think we have a problem...?

Commander Davenport sighed, stood from his chair and turned to face the Chief of Operations, ?What is it Lieutenant??

?The Malinche, they?ve exited Multi Vector Assault Mode and I?m detecting power fluctuations across the ship...?

?What kind of fluctuations?? The Commander snapped in reply.

?I?m not sure, their main power is fluctuating, their shields seem to be holding but weapons and engines seem to be offline...? Samas tapped at the controls in an attempt to boost the sensors, ?their life support seems to be offline in some sections...?

The commander had made his way to the console and had stepped behind it, forcing Samas into the corner while he looked over the data himself, ?Well what the hell happened??

As patient as he was, Samas had to fight to resist pointing out to the Commander that he might be able to tell him if Davenport were to move out of his way.

?If you?ll excuse me Commander...? he said as he gently pushed his way back to the centre of the console and began assessing the sensor data from the last few minutes.

The Commander stood next to the console, making no effort to hide his own lack of patience while Samas worked, ?Lieutenant!?

?I?m not sure, the nebulas still playing merry hell with our sensors.?

?Did they not decide it might be a good idea to tell us any of this??

A few more taps of controls followed before Samas responded, ?It?s possible they tried, but according to our scans their communications array might be offline too...?

Commander Davenport sighed again, ?Anyway we can establish communications??

?I?ll give it a try, it?s possible we might be able to send but whether or not they?ll be able to reply is another issue.?

?Very well Lieutenant, get to work and let me know the moment you are able to establish communications, is that clear?? The Commander was standing rigidly and staring intently at Samas, as if he genuinely thought he might not know what to do unless Davenport explained to him.

?Yes Sir.? He added just enough sarcasm for it not to be totally noticeable and set to work as the Commander returned to his seat, he glanced across to an Ensign at one of the Mission Ops consoles, he motioned towards the Commander and rolled his eyes, Samas smiled to himself, at least he wasn?t alone...
_________________
Lieutenant Samas Marot
Chief Operations Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673

<USS Sentinel, Bridge, MD03, 1540>

?Ok, I think I have an idea,? Samas had be running simulations and brainstorming for the last few minutes, ?though odds are you aren?t going to like it...?

Davenport rose from his chair and turned to face the Lieutenant, ?What have you got??

?Well the Malinche?s main communication system is offline, however the subspace transceivers on their shuttles should still be functional, if I can get over there I might be able to activate one...?

Davenport shook his head dismissively, and looked at Samas as one would look at a silly child. ?That signal would be too weak to do us any good in communicating with them.?

?True, but given a little luck I should be able to boost the signal enough to make it transmit through our friendly neighbourhood nebula, Sir?

?All well and good Lieutenant, but the Malinche?s shields are raised, how do you propose to make it over there? The Transporters won't work you know...? Davenport said, his voice patronising in the extreme.

?Transporters not working when shields are up?? Rhys chimed in, stepping off the turbolift and striding down to Ops to peer over Samas? shoulder.
?How silly of us to forget that. For shame, Samas, can?t you remember the basics?? Rhys said somewhat dramatically with a grin, shooting him a look to sympathize his having to deal with Davenport.

?Thanks for reminding me of the Commander, obviously being over 400 years old, my memories not what it once was...? Samas smiled insincerely at the Commander, ?Well this is where I might need Mr Monroe?s help??

There was something muttered from Davenport, it?s meaning clear even if the words were not.

?Aww, c?mon partner,? Rhys said, adding in a thick southern drawl. ?I reckon I could at least giv? ?er a rootin? try.? He winked at Davenport, then turned his attention back to Samas. ?What were you thinking??

?I might not remember 'the basics,'" he smiled disingenuously at Davenport, ?but I know other things, and I?m fairly confident I can get a shuttle craft through their shields, but I need said shuttle craft and a spare pilot you might have lying round??

?Ha!? Rhys laughed. ?It?ll take more than just a spare pilot, especially with no real clue of what?s out there. I may not be lying around? well, okay maybe I am sometimes, but I could help you out. I need something positive to do right now, while the rest of my team is analyzing all of the simulation data.?

Davenport cleared his throat, obviously not pleased to be left out of the planning. ?No one else is leaving this ship, especially taking one of my shuttles to do so, until I know exactly what it is you have planned.?

Rhys fought down the urge to challenge the Commander?s claims over the shuttles. Instead, he motioned somewhat dramatically to Samas to take over.

Samas sighed, he wasn?t sure if Davenport was simply cautious or deliberately obtuse, and his old and cynical side got a rare outing, ?Look, we have two choices here, either make the effort to re-establish contact with the Malinche or we sit here twiddling our thumbs just so you can feed you superiority complex! For all we know the ship could be seriously damaged and the crew in need of help, there could be Borg on board for gods sake! I?m not going to sit her staring out the window waiting for the situation to dictate what we should do. If the roles were reversed would you want the Malinche to just sit there doing nothing to help??

Rhys smirked slightly at Samas?s ferocity, then looked at Davenport, who looked like he was going to go thermal. ?Suh?? Rhys asked, watching the Commander?s jaw clench and unclench, and it seemed that he was going to throw them all into the brig, including the crewmembers who had stopped their normal duties and were now timidly watching the scene unfold.

?We can get over there and find out what?s happened? and it may be that they need someone to do just that,? Rhys said seriously.

Davenport stood for a long minute, then nodded tersely. ?Keep a constant channel connected with the Sentinel,? he said, then jerked his head to the door. Rhys winked at him and followed Samas into the turbolift.

?So what do we need to do?? he asked the El Aurian.

?Shuttlebay.? He spoke when the door closed and the lift sped off to its destination ?What a petaQ...? He took a deep a deep breath and immediately switched back to his ?normal? self, a smile back on his face as he turned to Rhys, "I should be able to modify the shuttles shields to get through theirs, but we have another problem, or rather, I do...?

?Oh come on now, that incident on Risa was so long ago, she would have contacted you by now if something had happened,? Rhys said, straight faced.

?She never calls, she never writes...? He replied, feigning hurt, ?Oh and we have no way to tell the Malinche to open the Shuttlebay doors, if they even have the means of doing it. I thought it best not to mention that one upstairs...?

?Well we could always shoot a hole in them,? Rhys said thoughtfully.
?But once we?re inside their shields, we should be able to transport in without a problem, shouldn?t we??
?That?s plan A, but honestly I?m not sure if the shuttles transporters will work with all the interference in the nebula till I try, and we can?t tie into the Malinche?s to boost the signal ?cos we can?t contact them... Then there?s plan B...?

Rhys quirked an eyebrow suspiciously. ?What?s Plan B??

?Well...we?re gonna need some EVA suits...?

?Oh you?re kidding,? Rhys groaned. Seeing that Samas wasn?t, Rhys rubbed the bridge of his nose. ?I?m gonna need a lot of cheese??


(To be continued.... *ominous music*)

---

:OFF

JP between your bridge misfists:

Lieutenant Samas Marot
Chief Operations Officer
USS Sentinel

and
_________________
Lt. Rhys Monroe
Chief of Flight Control
USS Sentinel
-
as played by
:Trent

<USS Sentinel, Shuttlebay, MD03, 1556>

Rhys climbed into the pilot?s seat of the shuttlecraft, his mouth still full from the puffy cheese balls that he had picked up along the way, crunching noisily and getting orange powder on his uniform.

?All aboard!? he called back to Samas, powering up the craft?s systems and engines. Wiping orange fingers on his pants leg, he set a small bowl of the cheeeeeeeeeeeeeesey snacks up on the panel and tapped the controls to life.

?You?ve spat cheesy crumbs all over the thruster controls!? Samas chastised, tongue in cheek, as he dumped the helmets to the two EVA suits on the small seats in the rear compartment of the type 9 shuttle.

He moved forward and took the second seat, powering up the console, ?Ready when you are...?

?Let?s party then,? Rhys said. ?Opening bay doors, and taking us out. Oh? I know this is a little self conscious? but does this shuttle make me look fat??

Without looking Samas gave a deadpan reply, ?...Yes.?

The shuttle gently raised up off the floor of the bay, moving gracefully through the massive bay doors and out into space, curving around and heading towards the front of the Sentinel.

The shuttle continued around giving Samas the first proper look at his new assignment, while a smallish ship it was much larger than his last posting. He continued looking through the window when something caught his attention...?Monroe??

?No, you may not date my sister,? Rhys said half jokingly, not looking up from his console where he was tapping commands, and reaching for some more cheesy puffs.

"Are those....eyes?"

Rhys choked. ?I don?t know what you mean,? he said quickly, as all of a sudden the ship twisted and changed course, dipping alongside and then under the Sentinel.

?Monroe, did you paint eyes on the ship!?? He said this looking at the underside of the ship half expecting to see a grinning mouth.

?It wasn?t my fault? completely? I blame the Scotty Totty.? Tapping a few controls, he quickly changed subjects. ?There she is. Get set up to get us through her shields.?

Samas looked sidewise at the young Lieutenant somewhat quizzically before turning back to the shuttles Ops console and set to work recalibrating the shields as well as redirecting power from other systems to boost the shield power.

?Ok all set, I think... We?ll need to approach the rear of the ship, their nacelles cause a variance in their shields, should be able to punch through there but it?ll still be a bumping ride?

The shuttle began to swing back and forth? back and forth? back and forth?

?Ooooooooooooooooh, the sailor?s life for me? out on the deep blue seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeea!? Rhys sang and the ship rocked. Then, looking over at Samas (and the look on his face), he grinned and straightened out the path. ?Just kidding,? he said with a smile.

Ahead in the rapidly closing distance was the Malinche, looming ever ominous before them. The massive, regal ship was faced the other way, still and silent. If not for the lights shining on the hull and through the window portals, there would have been no indication she was a fully operational, or seemingly so, ship.

?Hang on, we?re about to pass through,? Rhys said.

Alarms began sounding for the console as the buffeting continued, ?We?re coming in a bit fast! Navigation systems seem to be having trouble. You do see that nacelle pylon don?t you??

?We?re hardly close,? Rhys replied coolly, tapping the controls. The shuttle jumped slightly as she passed through the shields.

Samas squirmed slightly in the seat as the ship continued on its course, ?Pylon, pylon, pylon,? he started calmly but his warnings grew more frantic as the nacelles support pylon grew larger in the window, ?Pylon, Pylon! Pylon! PYLON!?

Rhys raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at the other officer. Just as it seemed they would surely crash, the shuttle turned sharply, running parallel along the support pylon.

?Chicken,? Rhys accused with a grin.

Samas released his vice like grip on the console, his knuckles white and a bead of sweat on his forehead, ?Well that was...bracing...?

?Here, have a cheese puff,? Rhys said, throwing a orange puff over to Samas.

Samas accessed the transporter controls as he ate the puff, finding the display predictable, ?Plan A?s out the window, we?re not gonna be able to beam over there, looks like it?s down to B or C, and since I don?t Captain Kersare will appreciated Plan C we?d best go for B...?

?Oh come on now? I don?t know any Captain who wouldn?t appreciate a good view, and we could put it in a really nice location,? Rhys grumbled, already prepping himself for what would most certainly be a nauseous stroll through space. Looking over at Samas, he sighed. ?Alright? I guess we won?t shoot a hole in the cargo bay doors. We?ll go for a stroll.?

?I?m sure the Captain will be grateful? He winked at the pilot as the ship banked.

?We?ll land over there. ETA, one minute. Prepare magnetic clamps,? Rhys said.

The ship landed with a gently thud on the side of the Malinche?s engineering hull, a second softer thud followed as the magnetic clamps locked on.

?Don?t look so worried, it?ll be a lovely stroll and you can even bring a picnic if you want. Let?s get suited up...?


OFF:

To be continued

A JP by

Lt. Rhys Monroe
Chief of Flight Control
USS Sentinel

and
_________________
Lieutenant Samas Marot
Chief Operations Officer
USS Sentinel NCC-74673

<<USS Malinche, Bridge, 1545, Day 3>>

?With your permission Captain I can set up a remote link from one of the aft stations. That way we can get a deck by deck readout as well as some communications.? Asked Mason.

Isabel nodded, "Please do so Commander. Petty Officer Dirland (NPC) can help you." Just as she turned back to address Jake, she heard banging from the turbolift. As the door opened, she saw Jack.

?What can I say? I like to make an entrance..?

She raised an eyebrow, "Glad you could join us, Mr. Hawkins. Report?"

An ensign in blue helped Jack to his feet, and he walked, somewhat unsteadily to the Captain, ?My report, OW! And apparently the turbolifts are having...issues.? He held his hand on his head and grimaced, blood running down one side of his face , the cut was a sharp pain, a throbbing ache behind it.

?What?s happening? I just tried contact Starfleet Intelligence and found out our communications array is offline?!?

"Along with everything else," Jake Quaid said in frustration as he continued to tinker with the Tricorder. "It's only theory at this point but we believe Gamma section was caught in a dark matter eddy which began to affect its systems, when we disengaged the MVAM, all 3 sections became affected."

?I?m no engineer, but would that evolve to affect all 3 sections?? Jack asked as a medic with a medical tricorder approached him.

"It could, yes - depending on what systems it affected. In our case, it seems to have found the right ones... Ms. Dirland brought us a tricorder which should allow us to communicate with anyone else that has one of the specially modified tricorders... I was able to speak briefly with Lieutenant Peters, who assures me Engineering is working on these issues. I'm hoping there might be something we can do from here though," Isabel replied.

"I'm currently configuring this Tricorder to act like a remote LCARS access point. Until we can reroute enough power to the computer stations so that we can see what we're doing, we'll have to use this to do what we can... it's almost ready," Jake replied as he ran a tool over an open port on the Tricorder. "I just have to realign the subprocessor and... we have a remote control!"

Quickly resealing the casing, he handed it to the Captain. "Try typing your command code into the interface to log on to the Engineering substation please Ma'am. If we can get it online, we might be able to route enough power to find out what's going on."

Isabel took the tricorer from Jake and tapped in her code. She held her breath a few seconds as she waited, then finally saw the log in screen and did so. "We have access! Good work!"

"Like I said, it's basic. With these power fluctuations, I don't know how long the connection will last before it needs rebooting, but I guess it's all we've got for now." Jake then tried to work the controls on the Engineering substation but came up with nothing. He was no engineer, but he knew enough to get through doors that had been deactivated or locked, and the principals where similar. "Try accessing the secondary power relay to reroute power to life support."

?Are there any decks with life support left?? Jack asked as the scanner was run over his head. He was watching Jake work, knowing he would be even less use at the controls.

She nodded, navigating to the needed relay. It was coming back to her, though it had been a few years since she'd done any real Engineering. She did miss it at times. "Okay, it looks the initial information we got was correct....Decks 7, 8, 11, and 12 are the ones actually without life support. It's a little hit and miss in other areas, but those are the only ones where it entirely failed. Looks like the power relay is alright, rerouting power now..."

Jake watched as little by little, a power readout fizzed to life and began to increase slowly. "Well, at least we won't die anytime soon," he half joked as he checked and rechecked the display. "The power is holding... it could indicate that the power we're in need of is being ripped from the warp core, the secondary power generators seem unaffected..."

The medic placed the scanner back with the Tricorder, ?You have a mild concussion sir, you really need to go to sick bay...?

Jack replied, still watching the work unfold, ?I?ll be fine, just do something about the blood if you can, it?s making a mess of my uniform and I?m due on a date in a minute...?

The ensign started to object but Jack shot them a glance that told them not to bother, they yielded and rummaged in the kit for a dermal regenerator.

?So would this, eddy, be able to drain power from our systems?? He asked as the medic set to work.

"Well it's bleeding off energy from the warp core, but the secondary should have kicked in and at least give us partial power. We're running on emergency batteries only," Jake replied. "I wonder if the Dark Matter is somehow blocking the secondary generators... preventing them from delivering power to the necessary systems."

Isabel shrugged slightly, "Those are possible....though it could also be as simple as a broken circuit. A level 2 diagnostic would need to be run to be sure...."

"Try running the diagnostic command from the Tricorder's interface. I'm not sure whether we can run one before the connection breaks or power is drained from this station... but its worth a shot."

?How long can those emergency batteries power the shields?? Jack asked a little worried about the answer.

Isabel turned to Jack, "With shields, emergency power will last a few hours at the most. We need to get things up and running on primary power as soon as possible." She tapped at the tricorder and started the diagnostic, "Okay....looking good thus far with the diagnostic." Suddenly an error message appeared, "Scratch that. Let me try contacting Peters."

Speaking into the tricorder, she said, "Lieutenant Peters? Are you there?"

"I'm here Captain, go ahead," came his reply.

"It looks like we're running on emergency power only.... I need you to run a level 2 diagnostic and figure out why," Isabel said.

"Understood."

The medic finished and after another reminder that Jack needed medical attention, which he again waved off, left them around the console. Jack removed his outer jacket, it was hot and also allowed him to use it to wipe some of the blood from his face.

"The diagnostic shouldn't take too long under Peters' tender care. I suppose sitting around won't help matters," Jake explained as the Captain closed the channel briefly. "How would you like to proceed, ma'am?"

Isabel looked around the bridge, "Well, we need to get Communications back up still....not to mention be ready for a potential Borg attack and ready to beam over to the Sirion. I would think that Captain Lange and the others on the Peacekeeper are wondering what's happened to us..." She turned to Jack, "Any suggestions on how we could get a message to them, Mr. Hawkins? Is there perhaps something from one of your Intel missions that would prove useful?"

Jack unzipped the top of his undershirt, feeling the top was damp with blood, ?I don?t know, if it were a case of boosting the signal we could tie it into the navigational deflector, but with the transmitter offline it doesn?t matter how much we boost a non-existent signal... Maybe if we could make it down to the shuttle bay we could use the transmitter in a shuttle??

"It'd take too long by the tubes. I don't wanna risk anyone using the lifts again either, I was lucky, you weren't as lucky, imagine the next poor guy... or girl," Jake replied, his need to keep his crewmates safe, apparent.

"Perhaps there's someone in the shuttlebay area already that could make the necessary modifications?" Isabel suggested. "Or any other thoughts?"

"You can give trying to contact someone a try, but we've only just got our hands on a 'new and improved' communicator... I don't think the Shuttlebay would be considered a necessary area to be issued one," Jake explained as he wracked his brains for ideas.

?Well that settles it then, it might take too long, but I?m gonna head to the bay, maybe I can even swing by the transporter room, see if I at least get a site to site transport...?

"You're in no condition to go, Hawkins... what if your concussion gets the better of you on your way down there?" Quaid argued before he was interrupted by a beeping tricorder.

?I?ll be fine, those doctors always exaggerate...? the movement of his head caused the room to spin but he tried not to think about it.

"Sickbay to the Bridge, anyone there?" a timid sounding voice said.

Apparently one of the modified tricorders had made it to Sickbay... "This is Captain Kersare, go ahead."

"Ma'am, this is Crewman McKnight(NPC)...I thought you should know... Lieutenant JG Rodgers was brought to Sickbay and is currently unconscious; apparently she was injured sometime during the chaos," Emily said. She hesitated, then continued, "Doctor Lovestreet is also injured."

Isabel sucked in her breath, this was not what she needed. "Acknowledged Crewman. Lieutenant JG Kirnan(NPC) is in charge until further notice. Keep me updated on Doctor Lovestreet and Lieutenant JG Rodgers' conditions."

"See, it's not like going to sickbay would help me now," Jack gathered up his discarded jacket, "I'll head down and try to rig something together.

"Captain..." Quaid protested.

"Hold on, Mr. Hawkins," Isabel said. She turned to Jake, "Lieutenant Quaid, considering Ms. Rodgers current status, you will be Acting Chief Security/Tactical Officer. Consider escorting Lieutenant Hawkins to the shuttlebay your first assignment."

"Yes Ma'am" Jake replied. He knew that Rodgers would be okay and that she was one hell of a Security Chief, but at that moment he had felt better then he had done in quite some time. It scared him to think that his team mates at SSWAT had been right all along, was he destined to wear gold? "Let's get moving," Quaid said as he walked over to retrieve a modified Tricorder.

OFF: JP brought to you by:

Lieutenant Jake Quaid
Chief Flight Control Officer/Acting Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

and

Lieutenant JG Jack Hawkins
Acting Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B

and

ON: < Deck 4 - USS Sirion ? 1520 hours - Day 3 >

Daggerd was now walking a bit ahead of the group, having insisted on taking point as protocol desired. As was expected, the Borg drones ignored the Starfleet personnel, having determined that they were of no interest, at least not at the moment. Daggerd?s eyes darted back and forth across the corridor as he monitored every move made by the Borg around him searching for any indication they might change their minds.

As he scanned the Borg for signs of hostility he surveyed them, some were modified beyond recognition while others still had their rank and uniforms clearly visible. Blake was fascinated by the Borg cybernetic integration process. He found it interesting how the drones could be quickly modified to best perform their duties

Just then a noise from a nearby access hatch caught Blake?s attention and he quickly spun around to see what was causing it. The hatch?s doors slowly slid apart and a officer emerged. It was a middle-aged African American man dressed in a medical blue uniform and with the rank of Lieutenant.

He revealed himself to be the CMO of the Sirion a Lieutenant Sheppard. Apparently he had been evading the Borg, but more importantly he had information pertaining to a possible solution to the Borg nano-probe infection of the Sirion?s crew. Not long after that he and the other survivors of the Sirion were beamed to the Sentinel

The captain turned to watch Sheppard, Stevens, and the other Sirion dematerialize and then spoke "Alright guys, you heard me. Back to the bridge." Daggerd turned to his mean and motioned for them to form back up into their defensive positions and move out.

They then started back to Deck 1. As they moved Blake resumed surveying of the drones and though to himself how much of a tactical nightmare it was dealing with the Borg, after all he was moving through the enemy camp waiting for them to decide he was worth attacking.

OFF:

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

ON: <Beta Section, Day 3, 1530>

After doing what she could to start repairing the systems on the Beta Section, Cheetara sent word to meet with Hunt and Kersare. She hoped that the repair crews could handle the rest of it from there while she went to the main bridge.

She headed down the corridors to the turbolift, hoping that it would still work. The doors to the turbolift opened revealing a black void of empty space. Well that answered her curiosity. She turned around and headed for the jeffries tubes. After unlocking the hatch, she made her way up toward the main bridge.

Continuing her climb, there were a few conduits that had ruptured during the reconnection of the three sections. She noted on her padd where they were for the repair crews.

Finally Cheetara had reached the bridge after 20 minutes. She entered through a side panel on the port side of the bridge. Rising to her feet, she saw Kersare and Hunt.

"Captain, Commander, I have important news regarding what happened on the Beta Section." Cheetara spoke quickly while extending the padd to Kersare. "Appearantly Ensign Morris changed some of the algarhythms and added these in. I hate to say this, but I suspect that it was sabotage."

OFF:

ON:

[USS Malinche, Bridge, 1532 Hours, Day 3]

It was the first time in years had Mason been up to his arms in tools and isolinear chips. After spending sometime on the tri-corder and his terminal he was able to bring out two stations both poorly lit and semi-functional.

?Captain, I have the mission ops and engineering consoles up however the internal links are not working well at some of them are anyway.? Said Mason.

<Tag Kersare>

?The power to these stations will not last no more than twenty to thirty minutes at most. Recommend a rotation of time and personnel per station.? Said Mason.

<Tag Kersare>

The lights around the bridge continued to flicker on and off as did the klaxons. Life support indicators were reading at bare minimal in addition to the emergency ration storage lockers. If power were by some odd ball chance of failing the crew would be even more so short on food.

?Computer, run a level 4 diagnostic via this tri-corder and by pass the auxiliary command processor threw to the secondary power buffers.? Ordered Mason.

=/\= Warning that procedure is not recommended=/\= replied the Computer.

?I am aware of that carry out my instructions.? Shouted Mason wiping his forehead.

Within moments of giving the order the engineering console sprung to life with a fully lit screen.

?Captain, I think you should see this.? Said Mason.

OFF

ON:

[USS Sirion, Personal Quarters, Time: unknown]

Will couldn?t remember how long he had been sitting in his quarters, but it had to have been a couple of days at least. Main power had been down the entire time, but he had managed to rig a dampening field using an isolated power source. He didn?t dare risk the replicator or communications for fear of alerting the Borg to his presence. For now, they were ignoring him and that was the way he liked it. He had even gotten used to the fact that his uniform was dirty, given that he couldn?t run the sonic shower either.

For the past hour or so, he had been staring out at the soup of nebula gasses that surrounded the dying Sirion. The ship was being assimilated and it was only a matter of time before the Borg did come looking for him. Until then, he waited, hoping that Starfleet would send someone out to see what had happened to them, but then again, he doubted that they even know where the Sirion had gone.

Suddenly, he thought he saw something in the dense gasses, it almost looked like another ship, but when he blinked, the image faded. Shaking his head, he got up to stretch his legs and walk around the room. He paused to check the field before quietly breaking off part of a ration bar to eat. The events of the past few days played again in his mind.

?Computer, what is the status of the sensor diagnostic,? Will asked, entering his quarters.

?Diagnostic inconclusive,? the computer replied. The sensors had been acting up again and Will could not figure out what was causing it. It was the third time since they had arrived and the captain was starting to get annoyed. As Will got ready to sit at his desk, the Sirion heaved and he was thrown to the deck. On his way down, his head hit the corner of his table and he blacked out.

When he came to, the room was dark. Nothing seemed to be working, including emergency lights. ?Schulz to the bridge,? he called, tapping his commbadge. There was no response. ?Schulz to any senior officer,? he tried again, still no response. Figuring that the comm. system, like everything else, was simply offline, he headed out into the corridor. He had barely made it a few steps when he noticed that something was definitely out of place. There was an odd sensation in the air and he had a strange tingling feeling on the back of his neck.

He made it to the nearest junction and almost jumped right out of his skin. The entire corridor to his left was full of Borg, alcoves, and other assimilated components. Next to him, a drone stepped out of an alcove and he backed up to avoid hitting it. That?s when he saw the Starfleet uniform under the cybernetic implants. It must have been a Sirion crewman. Doubling back as quickly as he dared, Will returned to his quarters and sealed the doors behind him. He had to make sure that they couldn?t find him, though. For that, he would need some sort of dampening field.

That?s when he remembered a trick he had learned from the chief engineer on the Dante for setting up a minor scattering field that could be used to mask one?s presence, so long as they didn?t use anything with any major power signature. All he had to do now was scrounge together the right tools.

---------

Now that he had the scattering field up, he had to come up with a plan. How in the world was he supposed to retake the ship if he was the only non-Borg that he knew of? He couldn?t even get a message out because the Borg controlled the command functions. Furthermore, Will had noticed that they had left orbit of Direidi, which meant that if Starfleet did come looking for them, they wouldn?t have a clue where they had gone.

After a few hours, Will was at least glad that the Borg hadn?t found him yet. So far, his plan seemed to be working, but he was getting tired and was debating whether or not to risk attempting to sleep. In the end, he decided to give it a try. With that, he drifted off into a restless sleep, fraught with dark dreams and haunted visions.

OFF

ON: <<USS Sirion, Bridge, Day 3, 1535>

Lange and his entourage of security personnel re-entered the bridge to find the Borg pretty much just as they'd left them. Stepping around the nearest drone, Lange peered at the MSD display, which showed that roughly half of the ship had been assimilated, but as with the corridors, it was a very patchwork job... not really like the Borg at all. This group HAD to be dysfunctional in some way.

It looked like the ship's guidance systems hadn't been touched, weapons were totally offline, but also had yet to be assimilated. The Borg were definitely into the ship's environmental systems, though, as it was far too hot on the bridge and in most areas they'd explored so far. The only other thing they seemed to have skipped totally over was the replicator subset of the Transporter system. That at least meant, for now, the food the ship would produce wouldn't be tainted. No telling how long that would last, however.

The hum of the transporter made Lange turn towards the front of the bridge, where he saw half a dozen engineers materialize between the Helm console and the Main view screen. Commander Keane took a brief look around the bridge, nodded to Lange, and led two of the other engineers out the portside door. Lange quirked an eyebrow, but kept his attention focused on Kilana.

"Welcome to the Sirion... I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, though."

Kilana blinked and froze in place as she got her bearings on the Sirion's bridge, which was currently occupied by three Borg and the initial away team. She moved towards James, Marc (NPC) and Nisha (NPC) just behind her. The other team, which included Jon (NPC), Mikaela (PNPC), and Lydia, had just left the bridge.

"They don't seem to be paying us any mind, but then, we haven't tried messing with the ship's computer yet. Based on our initial scouting run, I'd say the ship is salvageable, but I'm not an Engineer." Lange smiled. "Anyway, where do you want to start?"

Taking a moment to allow her eyes to drift across the bridge, she replied, "Here, sir. It'd be good to know what we can accomplish from the bridge itself. It should also give us a better idea of how extensive the damage and assimilation are."

Lange nodded. "I think the most important elements would be Flight Control systems and structural integrity. I doubt if the latter has taken much damage, but you never know."

Nodding, Kilana turned to Marc, "Mr. Coburn, if you'd look into the structural integrity?" Seeing him nod, she turned back to James, "They won't bother us while we search through the systems?"

"I hope not, but if they do, that's why we have Mister Daggerd and his men armed to the teeth." Lange shrugged. "I'm not an expert on the Borg either. I think we got the mission because we happened to be in the area at the wrong time."

"Isn't that always the case?" Kilana followed Nisha, who'd already headed to the Flight Control console. "Let's see what we have..."

"I'll let you work. Let me know if you find anything of note." Lange walked towards the science console, to look at the graph displaying somewhat sporadically on one of the display panels. It appeared to be an analysis of the nebula's composition. Whether it had been called up before or after the Sirion entered the nebula, Lange couldn't tell.

"Of course, sir." She turned back to the console, watching as Nisha accessed the Flight Control systems. Luckily, it appeared the Borg didn't have control of navigation yet...though she found that somewhat odd. She would've thought that after environmental controls they would take over weapons and navigational controls next. Frowning slightly, she turned back to Marc, "How's structural integrity?"

"I'm going to need a few more minutes...I'm scanning now to get the most up-to-date information," he replied.

"Alright, hopefully it'll be some good news..." She wouldn't hold her breath, but if navigation was still okay, then perhaps structural integrity wasn't as bad off as she suspected...

OFF:

A JP With

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

<USS Sentinel, Sickbay, MD03, 1612Hrs>

Gabriel stared at the screen before him as the simulation played out, studying the progression of the Borg assimilation technolgy as it confronted his serum. As in every simulation prior, the serum appeared to take affect, counteracting the transformation, but when success seemed inevitable the Borg nano-probes would regain control and complete the assimilation process.

"Damn!" he exclaimed as he pounded his fist on the console before him. The sudden burst of frustration startled Ensign Rejtan, the Betazoid Medical Officer who had been running a similiar version of the simulation on his own terminal.

"Doctor, you should get some rest," chimed in the Ensign, reading the exhaustion in Sheppard's tone. "I'm sure we'll find something soon."

"There's no time for rest, Ensign," Gabriel replied sharply. "We have to find a way to reverse the process, or at least stop it." Staring intently, he made a quick adjustment and restarted the simulation. Within minutes, the results were the same; the failure of his serum to counter the assimilation process. His frustration becoming insurmountable, he pounded the console once again, this time shaking it before him. Stepping away, he ran his fingers across his bare-skinned head and let out a breath laden with stress.

"Doctor, we've run the simulation fifty times," the Ensign said emphatically. "You need a break."

Gabriel was quick to turn about and face his unsuspecting adversary. "Did those men on the Sirion get a break," he replied sternly. Stepping closer to Lane, he stood face to face with his medical subordinate. Sheppard towered over the junior officer, his presence speaking as many volumes to the level of stress that he was under as his Betazoid telepathic skills could perceive. "I don't care if we have to run this simulation another two hundred times, we're going to do this until we get it right. Is that clear, Mr Rejtan?"

Lane nodded knowing it would be best not to press his luck. Stepping aside, he reached for a PADD on a nearby table and began working with Doctor Sheppard's equations once again.

A few moments later Sheppard walked away into the CMO's office of the Sentinel. Taking a seat, he let out a breath once again. It was obvious that the Sentinel hadn't received her CMO assignment. Gabriel wasn't sure why, but he could tell. There was always something personal about each Sickbay that mimicked the ship's doctor and his or her personality and it was an element that was absent from the Sentinel's Sickbay.

Leaning back in the chair, Gabriel covered his face with his hands wiping away the grime from his recent foray aboard the Sirion. As he pulled his hands away he noticed his reflection in the screen before him. The stress over the past two weeks had begun to take its toll leaving him broken and weary. By the time he had encountered the Sentinel's Away Team and her Captain, he had been too anxious to continue his research and hadn't allowed himself time to clean up.

Rising from the chair, he walked to the replicator and ordered something to keep him awake during his research, "Raktajino. Hot." After the drink materialized, he reached for the cup and raised it to take a sip. Before he could take a moment to enjoy the first taste he had had in weeks of his favorite beverage, he was startled by a voice in the next room.

"Doctor!" bellowed Lane's voice. Rushing in, Gabriel met Ensign Rejtan at his medical station. "Sample 392!!" Lane was yelling ecstatically. "It seems to be slowing the progression!"

Gabriel watched the simulation onscreen, studying the reaction of the nanoprobes to the serum and indeed it was working. The simulation finished leaving the nanoprobes in a state of flux, dormant; though for how long he couldn't be sure. The results were less than what he had hoped for, but it was a step in the right direction.

"Keep running the simulation for Sample 392, Doctor Rejtan, " Gabriel insisted, "Keep me apprised of the results. If we're lucky, we may be on our way to saving the Sirion's crew."

A quick nod and a smile and Lane continued his simulations leaving Doctor Sheppard to ponder their results. A little light at the end of the tunnel was better than nothing at all at this point. And maybe, just maybe... he could save the men and women he left behind.

<OFF>
_________________
Lieutenant Gabriel Sheppard
Chief Medical Officer
USS Sirion