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Odyson
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Security To Sickbay.............

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Lt. Reid’s Quarters – 1535



John have reached to a couple of others to find what he might on the rash of transfers. His last call was back to Starbase 118. From the com console looked out a black haired Asian beauty. Petty Officer Julia Kato may look diminutive, but she could move then handle herself. She too was a weapons expert on the Starbase security crew

“So you have time to call but not to visit? I saw on the records that you were in the Starbase security office but you never bothered to find me. What’s up with that?”

“I’m sorry cuz, I was on an assignment to find information for my CO and had to get a report to him. I thought we’d be there longer and I could catch you later. But as you would know we got turned around pretty quickly and had a mess of changes to boot.”

“Yeah, I was noting all those staff transfers; we had to post the security codes and data. Boy but you guys made us a lot of work.”

“Hey it wasn’t our idea..in fact that’s why I called. Could you let me know if you hear any scuttlebutt on those transfers? This just doesn’t seem close to usual. And if you think of it see if you can follow the money? That can have something to do with this.”

“Well I’m not too good at that but this is your lucky day. Your old buddy Vega is here in Ops and I’d bet he can find something.”

“Donny’s there? Man I haven’t seen him since we got our commissions. Sure let him know I’d appreciate anything he might find.”

“Ok I’ll track him down, but you know he hates being called Donny.” In exaggerated Latin accent, “It Don Diego..not Donny.”

They both let out brief laugh, “Julie, I’ll make it up to you if we swing back to 118, dinner at the place of your choice.”

“Oh you’ll do better than just dinner. …You take care Johnny Boy.”

“Sure thing… you too.”

As the com-port faded Julia looked over to the Oriental style painting on the wall of a Crimson Wasp and smiled.


Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Lt. Reid’s Quarters – 1555


John has finished his calls and was preparing to turn in. With the stress of the day and he knew he’d rise early to prepare for his bridge shift so sleep was next on the list.
Just as he was about to pull off his shirt the comm. blared out,

=/\= ““Security Team Beta 2, report immediately to Sickbay. Repeat, Security Team Beta 2, report immediately to Sickbay. Potential security threat reported.”=/\=

The first think that crossed John’s mind was that the Ambassador had had at each other. “Crap..that’s all we need.”

Grabbing his comm and side arm John headed to the turbo. As he moved down the passageway he tapped his comm., “Ensign Mathews, this is LT. Reid…meet me in the sickbay.” Might as well get him started.

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1600


John entered the bay to find Crewman Galla and Wren both standing by with phasers drawn. They obviously had just arrived too. John entered sickbay followed close by an Ensign.

“What's the situation? Why was security called?” John looked around the sick bay.

The medical staff was gathered around a restrained man on an observation table.

"Can anyone tell us what happened?"

The medical staff relayed what the petty officer had said and done.

“I want you to notify Ensign Williams here when he becomes lucid.“ Turning to the Ensign, “I need you question this man and find just what happened in here. Also contact engineering to take that unit off line and see if there might be something malfunctioning that could have lead Bachmann to think it attacked him. While you wait for Bachmann to come to head down to security and have Petty Officer Enpok T'Darin fill you in on all our excitement. I’m sure Lt. Berk will brief you when he comes off the bridged.”

Then looking up at the dazed Ensign and chuckling slightly, “Oh.. I’m Lt. Reid the ACTO ….welcome aboard the Peregrine. Let us know if you get bored….. Crewman Wren please show our new Security Officer to the Security Section. ……..Nurse Cook, thank you, let me know if there is anything else to report.”

Letting out a sigh John headed back to his quarters.

Tapping his comm., “Reid to Lt. Berk.”

(assuming something like “Berk here.”)

“Appears to have been an equipment malfunction in sickbay. I’m having Ensign Williams follow up and Engineering to address the equipment. The odd thing is it was the table the Chief Thorson had been on…Ensign Williams will fill the report….Reid out.”



Posted on 2016-08-25 at 22:20:25.
Edited on 2016-08-26 at 11:56:12 by Odyson

Eol Fefalas
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RDI Staff
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6551 Posts


More with Megan, Lincoln, and the Angel...

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 5, Shuttle Bay 2; Section M-13 – 1325

“Yer sure this is okay,” Megan asked, making a futile attempt at tucking a stray curl of springy red hair behind an ear as she followed Lincoln Adler toward the Aurora Angel’s aft loading ramp. She glanced uncertainly back over her shoulder, fussed with the escaped curl again, and drew up beside the Engineers Mate as he paused at a roll-away console that squatted at the bottom of the gangplank.

“Yeah, sure,” Lincoln replied, checking to make sure the input lines coming from the shuttle bay’s bulkhead and the output lines that led up the ramp and into the Angel’s interior were securely connected to the roll-away, “Unless you’re supposed to be on duty, or something?”

Grinning, Megan shook her head, setting her thick pony-tail to bouncing off her shoulders. “No,” she said, “I come here fer a quiet place ta study’s all. Never been invited aboard b’fore now…”

Having verified the connections were secure, Lincoln tapped a few key-sequences into the roll-away console. Following the final chirping noise evoked by those strokes, there was a faint humming sound that emenated from the Angel, itself, and, as Megan’s gaze danced away from Lincoln to track up the gangplank, the little ship started to come to life. The heretofore shadowed interior brightened as the lights inside waxed progressively brighter; sound, too, began to filter out through the yawing aft hatch- familiar beeps and chirps from computer consoles, the soft whir and hum of servo motors priming, and the breathy hiss of life support systems coming on line.

“…I just don’ wann get ya in a fix, is all,” Megan finished, feeling a bit less anxious and a lot more excited, now, as she gaped up into the craft.

“Don’t worry about that,” Lincoln chided, taking up his armload of equipment again and leading the way up the loading ramp, “You outrank me. If we get caught, I’ll just tell them that you ordered me to bring you in.”

“Ya bloody well better not!” Megan’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in shock for an instant, and her heart fluttered as it tried to decide whether it wanted to beat out of excitement, still, or if it was going to go back to an angst-ridden tempo. When she realized he was laughing, she exaggerated a scowl while her heart settled on excited, and then hurried up the ramp after him. When she caught up, she nudged him in the side with her elbow; “Ya soddin’ scrog-muppet!”

He laughed ever harder. “Seriously, though, Megan,” he said, setting his load down and reaching out to take the bits she was had carried aboard, “there’s nothing to worry about. Just because you’ve never been invited aboard doesn’t mean she’s marked as off limits. Besides, we’re in here working. Just installing relays and running conduit…” He grinned, shrugged, and, then, fixed her with an exagerattedly dubious look… “You do know how to run conduit, right?”

“Aye; tha’s basic,” she smirked, her eyes flashing.

“Like I said, then; not a thing to worry about.”

“Marvs,” she smiled back, her gaze holding him for just an instant before roving the cabin space in which they now stood and trying to see farther up the corridor that led forward. “Sooo… cargo bay?”

“Hmmm?” Lincoln asked, caught off guard by the question… was she asking him to go to the cargo bay with her and… “Ohhhhh! The tour… right,” he half chuckled, half sighed, when that last thought got instantly slapped down by common sense. “Yeah,” he answered, making an expansive gesture to indicate the space, “this would be the cargo bay. Although, I saw in the schematics that the Lt has got some kind of modular concept for this thing and, in a pinch, this space could be configured into a living area or two. Bunks, a dining area, that kind of thing…”

It was a little difficult for Megam to visualize in it’s present state – a good portion of the bulkheads had yet to be paneled and, she was fairly certain that there were computer sub-nodes and other essential systems to be installed before that could happen, but, the exposed structural members and support structures framed it all out enough that she could imagine how it all might come together. “Kashi,” she murmured, nodding appreciatively.

“What?”

“Oh,” Megan grinned, “it’s Welsh… um… kinda like ‘that is cool’?”

“Ah,” Lincoln grinned in reply, “okay… ‘Khashi’… Yeah; it is pretty cool.” He started for the hatch that would lead them further into the Angel’s interior, motioning for her to follow as he continued; “A good part of her is designed that way.

Modular, I mean,” he said, reaching the hatchway now, “most everything from between here and the cockpit is framed out to be completely customizable and easily reconfigured depending on mission parameters. The only compartments that are truly static, I guess, would be the cockpit and the forward head… I guess the transporter room is kind of fixed, too, but…”

“She’s got a transporter room,” Megan squeaked incredulously, stepping through the hatch and into what looked like would be the craft’s central corridor.

“Watch your step,” Lincoln cautioned her, “they’re quite a way from having her buttoned up. Don’t want you tripping or falling through the deck or anything.” When she nodded her acknowledgement, he continued on; “Yeah, there’ll be an actual transporter room, if you want to get technical about it. Zai and Thorson carved out a little niche between the forward cabin and the mid-sections, here.” He gestured ahead of them to where another hatchway defined the farther end of the corridor; “Reinforced and shielded bulkhead and hatch on this side, same thing on the other side, with just enough room in between to squeeze in a standard two-person unit and a control board.”

Megan nodded interestedly, glancing at the far hatchway for a moment before letting her eyes travel slowly over the decidedly skeletal looking expanse between here and there. She was able to discern the beams and crossmembers that coincided with the craft’s external structure and set them apart from the other structural work that promised to frame out other compartments at some point. “And ever’thin’ between from here up’s ta be swappable modules?” she queried.

“That’s the grand plan, as I understand it, yeah,” the engineer’s mate nodded. “Right now, they’ve got an engineering module roughed in, right there,” He pointed to what appeared to be a nearly completed room, just past her on the ship’s port side, “and, up there,” he nodded to the far end of the corridor where another, similarly sized compartment was taking shape on the starboard, “that’s currently set up as a science station (stellar cartography is what they were running, last time I was here) but, they’re thinking it could easily be tweaked to function as a medical bay… they… sorry, he… will probably just punch out another section for that. Or design a module that he doesn’t build right off…”

The waifish shuttle-pilot was even more fascinated than she thought she’d be at finally getting to see the inside of the Aurora Angel. It wasn’t quite what she had imagined looking at it from the outside these past months and she was having a hard time fathoming how all of this could have come from the minds of just one or two people. She had admired Lt Zai almost from the instant she’d been placed under his command but seeing this took that esteem to another level.

“…only other things, outside of what’s up front, that they’ve got plugged in, here, is that little section, there,” she heard Lincoln say as, having heard his footsteps starting to sound on the deck, let go of her awe-struck gawking and followed along behind him. “It’s not going to stay,” he told her as they approached the area he had just indicated, “it’s basically just an onboard workshop; mostly tied to Engineering right now.”

As they passed the ‘workshop,’ she gave it a cursory glance. There was little more to it that the decking, a partially completed bulkhead in which was set a large, fabrication replicator (definitely borrowed from ENG), a couple of worktables strewn with parts and tools, and another roll-away console that seemed to be serving as the ship’s MSD. They passed by it quickly and, immediately after, breezed by the hatch that opened into the ‘Stellar Cartography lab’ Lincoln had pointed out a moment ago, then, they were standing at the forward end of the corridor, just outside the hatch that, Lincoln said, would open into the transporter room… An’ past th’ transporter room, she found herself almost giddy thinking it, th’ cockpit an’ those manual controls!!!
Lincoln tapped at a small console that was set in the wall beside the hatch. The computer chirruped a response and the door hissed away into the bulkhead. “Here we go,” he smiled over his shoulder at her, “Transporter room.”

Practically glowing with excitement, now, Megan stepped through the door and flicked a glance around. To her left, she could see the deckside and overhead mounted collars where the transporter hardware would be eventually be installed and, to her right, tucked into a tight corner, an ‘L’ shaped control console had been mounted and paneled in. Her grin and her excitement grew exponentially with every step, now, and it was all she could do to keep from bouncing up and down as she waited for Lincoln to punch in the code that would open the next hatch and reveal the cockpit.

“Ready,” Lincoln smiled almost teasingly at her, his finger hovering antagonistically over the last icon he’d need to cue for the door to open.

“Bloody hell,” the tiny shuttle-pilot cheeped, “will ya lemme see it, a’ready!?”

Chuckling, Lincoln let his finger touch the last character of his access code, then, as the computer whistled it’s acknowledgement and the door slide away, he stood to one side of the hatch and, with a flourished gesture, bade her to step onto the Angel’s bridge… As if Megan was about to actually wait for any more of an invitation… She practically bounced through the portal the instant it had opened and, when her feet landed on the other side, she stopped dead in her tracks and blinked in amazement.

“Oh… my…” she had scarcely breathed the words – her mouth had hardly closed enough to let her enunciate them properly, in fact – but that did nothing to mask the pure astonishment that that total of four letters evoked.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Lincoln agreed, stepping through the hatch and squeezing past where she had stopped.

“Oh my,” Megan repeated, blinking dumbly as she struggled to fully absorb what she was looking at. “It’s… it’s gorgeous!”

Under construction or half-done were terms that she had long applied to the Aurora Angel but, if those terms applied to everything she’d seen of the craft, so far, they most certainly did not apply to this. All of the interior bulkhead paneling was in place, computer consoles, systems monitors, and control panels were all mounted, even the seats for each of the four distinct stations had been installed. She couldn’t decide where to look first, she was so taken aback, and so she simply stood there for a moment basking in the glow of the thing as a whole…

“Yeah,” Lincoln drawled, his own gaze slowly crawling over the forward cabin, appreciating it in his own way, “She’s got a kind of old-school-Trill feeling to her, in here, huh? Kind of… I don’t know… more flowy, I guess?”

… “More flowy,” she repeated, chuckling the words softly as if she were speaking them from within a dream, “Aye.” The sound of Lincoln’s voice had been the catalyst she needed to, finally, direct her gaze to a finite point and, realizing that, she let loose another, somewhat self-conscious giggle. “Is flowy ev’n a word, Linc?”

“Hell,” the young engineers mate chuckled, watching her as she finally blinked those impossibly large, impossibly blue eyes, and set them to roaming deliberately about the forward cabin… but not before they paused on him for the split second it took for him to feel like he was melting, “I don’t know if it is or not, but, I mean…” He thrust out his hands, palms up and fingers spread, directly in front of him, and then spread his arms wide in a comically exaggerated gesture that might has well have said Just LOOK at it!!!. His arms snapped back inward, then, bringing his hands to rest on his hips and, grinning, he finished his reply… “What would you call it?”

The little red-headed woman laughed a light, rain-water-on-glass-bells kind of laugh at that and, as her gaze slid away from Lincoln, she nodded concurrence. “Flowy, it is,” she beamed, “Reckon tha’s appropriate a term’s I’d come up with.”

Her eyes had decided to fall, first, on the station that was nestled immediately to the right of where she now stood. It consisted, primarily, of a bank of configurable consoles and displays mounted into the rear bulkhead, along with a strip of similarly customizable control panels that jutted out from beneath the others in a desktop fashion. The station wrapped around to consume a small portion on the starboard bulkhead, as well, but, it appeared that section was primarily given over to a smattering of auxiliary montiors and consoles. The chair mounted in the workspace was, like the ones at the other stations, certainly inspired more by the Trill aesthetic than Starfleet design preferences. It was sleek and elegant, but, at the same time, functional and ergonomic without being obtrusive in any way…. Almost like it was carved from a giant, chrome egg shell, she mused, reaching out to touch the surprisingly cool metal of the chair.

“That’s supposed to be the Mission Ops/Comm station,” Lincoln informed her as her fingertips slid from the chair’s cold chrome structure and onto the notably warmer and almost silky feeling upholstery of the headrest, “It’s mirrored to the aft engineering station, now, though… Makes it easier to check the MSD without having to run the length of the ship or haul a PADD around with you.”

She nodded, her hand falling away from the chair as her gaze started to trace forward, intending to follow the arcing bank of displays to where they flowed cleanly into the beginning of the next station.

“Forward Head’s over here,” Lincoln’s voice snatched her away from the way her eye had been naturally led, then, and drew it back around to see where he was pointing. It was immediately to the left of where they stood, hidden behind a narrow hatch set in the port bulkhead.

She blinked at the door… blinked at him… and wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah,” Lincoln smirked, “sorry. You probably could’ve guessed that without me telling you.”

“Probably,” she agreed.

“Heh… Yeah,” he offered along with a sheepish grin and shrug before motioning her attention back to where it had been going originally, “So, anyway, that’s Tactical…”

The way the forward cabin was designed, it was easy for her to fall back into the flow of things precisely where she’d left off before his pointing out the head had interrupted her. It was all so smooth and organic. The auxiliary consoles from the Ops/Engineering station curved along the starboard bulkhead and, had there not been a similarly graceful arc of access panels separating them, would have melded seamlessly into the bulkhead mounted consoles that marked one edge of the TAC station. Those consoles and displays, in turn, flowed off of the bulkhead and onto a bank of consoles that curled slowly out toward almost the center of the cabin. As her eyes followed it along, she realized that the station on the port side was an exact mirror of the one she had just taken in.

“…and that’s Science or Engineering or whatever the mission calls for,” Lincoln advised, timing his narrative to coordinate with her line of sight, now. He followed her as she stepped forward, moving, naturally, toward the space between the mirror image TAC and SCI stations. The outer edges of each station provided access, via a single step down, to the CONN station at the front of the cabin. He thought he might have heard her sigh softly as she approached the pilot’s seat, rested her hands on it, and let her gaze travel longingly over the beautiful, crescent shaped bank of montiors and control screens that swept almost 180 degrees around the chair… Short and long range sensor displays, telemetry readouts, navigation controls, impulse and warp engine…
“Oi!” Her hands came away from the chair with an almost audible snap and her posture stiffened, too, as she suddenly realized that something was missing. “I thought ya said this thing had a manual FCS!” As captivating as the function and fittings of the CONN she had just swooned over were, from what she could see there wasn’t so much as a thumb-nub joystick protruding from the console, let alone anything resembling the control yoke and throttles she was promised. She whirled around, prepared to give him the Devil’s own Hell if it turned out he’d made all of that up just to lure her aboard under false pretenses.

When her dangerously narrowed gaze found him, he was grinning… not like the cat that ate the canary or the spider that had lured the fly into it’s parlor, though… it was a dopey, school-boy, I’ve-got-a-surprise-for-you grin… Her suddenly hardened expression softened a bit as trying to interpret that grin confused her a little. “What!?” she demanded, probably in a more stern fashion than she should have but not quite as much as she might’ve actually wanted.

“Sit down,” he grinned.

“What?” her voice and expression softened all the more.

“Sit. Down.” He repeated, making a spinning motion with his finger, suggesting that she turn around and put herself in the pilot’s seat.

Megan’s face screwed up in a mask of uncertainty and she glanced from Lincoln to the pilot’s seat more than once while he continued making the spinning motion and, for good measure, started to punctuate it by pointing emphatically at the chair. “C’mon, Megan,” he begged, once his wrist started to tire of the repetition, “you’re gonna love this, I promise.”

She looked at the chair over one shoulder and, then, her still hesitantgaze flicked back to him even as she took a backward step or two to comply. “If ya try anythin’, Lincoln,” she warned, reaching back to grasp the chair with one hand, turning it on it’s swivel so she could settle in, “I swear ta Mother Mary…”

“I’ll stay right here,” Lincoln promised.

“Ya bloody well better, mister,” Megan cautioned further (even if she didn’t really feel like she needed to) before letting herself commit to the incredibly comfortable seat that welcomed her.

As her weight settled on the upholstered cushioning of the seat, she heard the faint drone of servos underneath her and, not only did the chair swivel back around to face her toward the viewport, it auto-adjusted to accommodate her height and reach. She couldn’t help but grin a little at that… she might have even giggled.

“Okay,” Lincoln said from behind her, no closer than he had been, “now, you see those two strips of icons on the bottom edge of your central display?”

“Aye.”

“Enter 03, 17, Delta5, 112a.”

Her fingers danced across the console, keying in the sequence he had called out, and, an instant after the last stroke, she heard (and, she thought, felt) servos whir to life again, this time from the crescent shaped console itself, as opposed to from the chair. A nanosecond after that, two sections at the lower middle of the sweeping panel separated themselves from the larger installation. One sank downward and swept downward and out, before maneuvering itself to swing over to her right side and come to rest within easy reach of her hand.The other also sank downward to start, but, where it’s twin had orbited toward her, this one disappeared beneath the now notched console and, as it reappeared as a pop-up display, just beyond the leading edge of the greater CONN panel, the console to her left whirred and extruded a drawer, of sorts, that, once extended within her reach, unfolded it’s upper components to form a four levered, variable sync, throttle control the likes of which she had only ever seen in her studies. Even as the throttle unfolded at her left hand, the control yoke that Lincoln had promised was there seemedto sprout from the deck between her feet, right in the notch where the LCARS CONN panels had slid away… “JesusJosephan’Mary,” she whispered as her little hands reached out to wrap around the manual controls that had appeared, almost miraculously, around her, “I would so love to sit here when she’s runnin’…”

“Khashi, right?” Lincoln’s voice queried from behind her… he was closer, now, but, with the yoke in one hand and the throttle levers beneath the other as she stared dreamily through the laminated plasteel and transparent aluminum canopy, she couldn’t bring herself to mind…

Besides, she thought, he didn’t lie…
“Aye,” she scarcely whispered, beaming brighter than was usual even for her, “way cwl…”



Posted on 2016-08-25 at 22:33:53.
Edited on 2016-08-25 at 22:36:32 by Eol Fefalas

t_catt11
Fun is Mandatory
RDI Staff
Karma: 309/54
5258 Posts


nothing fancy or fun, just handling loose ends...

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine, Bridge, 1300


Captain Drake did his best to breathe slowly, evenly, to keep a calm exterior. What was done was done; there was nothing to gain by further outbursts which could only cause loss of face to the accursed ambassadors. While it had been enjoyable to cause annoyance to Captain Jacobs via the "theft" of the diplomats, the fact was that Silas cared little for politics or the intricacies of babysitting ambassadors on tis mission. He knew full well that personally, he was far better suited in the escort role - as was the Peregrine.

But he had been dealt this hand, and would simply have to play it to the best of his ability.

After giving a proper time for the Coronado to clear the hanger, Silas confirmed clearance with Starbase 118, then gave the order to do the same.

Once they were clear, Drake gave the navigational orders. "Lieutenant Zai, lay in a course for the Gamera system, please." After receiving acknowledgement, he continued. "Ahead, one quarter impulse."

The engines hummed to life, taking the Peregrine away from the Starbase at a leisurely pace - though it wouldn't be soon enough for the Captain's tastes.

"Lieutenant Moriden," he spoke, "please inform the Coronado that we will be engaging warp when we achieve nominal safe distance from the Starbase."

*wheeze* "Aye, Captain," came the expected reply.

The diplomats, for their part, were rather reserved. They both did seem to carefully inspect the bridge, but had no commentary to offer, nor did they take any actions to cause any sort of disruption. The next few minutes passed without incident, though they did certainly feel much longer.

Soon enough, though, safe distance was achieved. "Now then, Lieutenant Zai," Drake spoke. "Let's get truly under way, shall we? Warp factor six, please - engage the warp drive."

Despite his sour mood, Silas felt that old familiar thrill as the starscape through the viewscreen distorted momentarily before settling to the blankness of warp. A few final pleasantries were exchanged, and the ambassadors left the bridge.

Hopefully, the worst of the intrigues are behind us now, Silas mused.


**********************************************

USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room, 1330

With the "notable" moment over, the ambassadors had eventually taken their leave of the bridge (thankfully, before Drake had reached the point of instructing their escorts to cram the pair into the turbolift), and the Captain had relinquished control of the bridge to Zai.

Not much later - just within the promised hour - the door chime sounded with a request from Lieutenant Berk. "Come in," Silas stated flatly.

The Peregrine's CTO gave a crisp salute, then offered a PADD. "Here is my report on the arrest of Lieutenant Tesenblen, Captain," the man offered.

Silas nodded in acceptance and took the offered device. "Thank you, Lieutenant," the Captain replied. "Please, have a seat."

The report was concise and to the point. It honestly lined up pretty well with what he had expected to read... until Silas came to one portion late in the report, which caused a dark cloud to settle over his visage.

"Let me be sure that I understand, Lieutenant," the captain began.

"While you and Lieutenant Reid were otherwise occupied, Starfleet security boarded my ship, arrested my Chief Science Officer, and removed a large portion of my botany lab. This activity went unnoticed for a few reasons, most notably that Starbase personnel would have not been considered out of place, there were several last minute transfers..." this is where the Captain's face began to regain that angry edge, "... most notable being Ensign Agris, who conveniently left us to serve aboard the Coronado."

Drake drew a deep breath. "It is your finding that the arresting team - apparently assisted by Ensign Agris - ensured that our personnel were otherwise occupied so as to not notice the arrest and raid. Do I have this right?" he asked with a steely stare towards Berk.

((OOC: assuming an affirmative response, any further expanation, etc))

The Captain sighed and leaned back in his chair. Truth be told, he could not realistically hold Berk at fault for what had happened - at best, it was simply an unfortunate coincidence; at worst, there was an active conspiracy to to keep the Peregrine crew in the dark. Silas, of course, did not believe in coincidence.

For a moment, Drake considered offering a formal apology for his outburst on the bridge... but the fact was that he had truly only demanded an explanation, which any reasonable officer would expect to provide to his Captain in such a situation. Instead, he elected to focus on the present.

"Good work, Lieutenant," Silas spoke. "I cannot fathom why Starfleet security felt it necessary to operate in such an underhanded manner, but truthfully, there was no reason for us to suspect this sort of activity from them. Of course," he paused with a rueful grin, "we'll have learned our lesson now, won't we? Never again will external personnel be allowed free reign of our ship, even if they are Starfleet - the regulations can be damned."

((OOC: spot here for Berk to comment, reply, etc))

Silas shook his head. "Very well. Lieutenant, you are dismissed," he spoke.







Posted on 2016-08-26 at 01:29:23.

Boo Boo
RDI Fixture
Karma: 27/1
673 Posts


Cook

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 – 1600


The door to Sickbay opened and in walked to of the Security Detail with phasers draw of all things. PO Cook sighed and stepped in front of them.

“Hold up,” She said in a commanding tone, “everything is under control for the moment. So put away your phasers in ‘my’ sickbay.” She started at them till they did so.

“Good,” she replied, “Now since you’re not needed at the moment, please stand by the door over there just in case you are.” She turned away from them and back to her patient.

Seconds later, John entered the bay to find Crewman Galla and Wren both standing by with phasers drawn. They obviously had just arrived too. John entered sickbay followed close by an Ensign.

“What the situation? Why was security called?” John looked around the sick bay.

The medical staff was gathered around a restrained man on an observation table.

"Can anyone tell us what happened?"

“Lt. Reid,” PO Cook said as she approached him, “PO Bachmann had some kind of accident. He said one of the Wall panels over there ‘attacked’ him.” She pointed to one of the conns that feed into the medical beds, the one where Chief Thorson had been treated briefly while he was in sickbay. She frowned as that thought occurred to her. She wondered about that coincidence.

“We had to sedate him to keep him from injuring himself,” she continued, “he was babbling about something in the wall that attacked him. He does appear to have received some sort of ‘shock’ to his arm that appears to have done minor damage to his tissues, but we are performing deeper scans to determine the extent of the damage.”

“I want you to notify Ensign Williams here when he becomes lucid.“ John said, turning to the Ensign, “I need you question this man and find just what happened in here. Also contact engineering to take that unit off line and see if there might be something malfunctioning that could have lead Bachmann to think it attacked him. While you wait for Bachmann to come to head down to security and have Petty Officer Enpok T'Darin fill you in on all our excitement. I’m sure Lt. Berk will brief you when he comes off the bridge.”

“Engineering has been summoned to investigate the panel,” PO Cook interjected, “I suggest you have your detail stand by and make sure that no one approaches that panel till Engineering can look at it.”

Then looking up at the dazed Ensign and chuckling slightly, “Oh.. I’m Lt. Reid the ACTO ….welcome aboard the Peregrine Let us know if you get bored….. Crewman Wren please show our new Security Officer to the Security Section. ……..Nurse Cook, thank you, let me know if there is anything else to report.”

“Of course, Lt,” Cook replied.

Letting out a sigh John headed back to his quarters.

PO Cook’s eyes followed Lt Reid out the door and she shook her head; he seemed a nice enough man and capable at this job, but she didn’t see what all the scuttlebutt was about how all the women seemed to fine him attractive. To each their own, she guessed, as she turned by to examining the readings coming of the medical scanners.

As Dana watched the readings, she thought it was probably time to involve the Doctor, if she were available?

"Petty Officer Cook to Dr. Moore," she said hitting her Comm badge, "you are needed in Sickbay."

(OOC: Tag Yanamari. )


Posted on 2016-08-26 at 05:39:06.

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


Tochi's tale - Part One

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 5; Observation lounge (“The Aerie”), Tochi and Asovil’s table – 1610

“Anyway,” Tochi smiles, “as we were saying; yes, we retain all of the previous hosts’ memories when we are joined...” He gently places the glass down and takes up a fork taking in a mouthful of his dinner. He chews, swallows, and takes another sip from his glass. “How is your food,” he asks.

“Delightful, Tochi,” Asovil answers, genuinely impressed by the cuisine, it seems. “I’ve not seen this – ” She indicates the asparagus on her plate with the tines of her fork. “— Vegetable before. We don’t really have many vegetables on Andoria. There are some, like the vor’tehl and the fr’ollenta, but nothing like this.” Casting about for Leah, the Andorian finds her working behind the bar once again. “I can’t believe this is replicator food. Leera is very good at her job.”

“Good,” Tochi smiles before taking another bite of his dinner.

“How about yours?” Asovil turns her attention to her dinner companion’s salad.

“Delicious,” the Trill returns. “The salad, in particular, is fantastic,” he adds, poking mix of leafy greens and such that occupies a section of his plate, “spinach, strawberries, and,” spearing a tiny crumble of somethignfrom amid the mix, “Terrans call this feta cheese, we think. Very good.” The morsel disappears into his mouth.

“Good,” Asovil nods, her response accompanied by a faint smile as she cuts into her chicken.

“Mmm,” Tochi offers between bites of his own dinner, making a vague gesture at spearlike veggies on her plate by which she had been so intrigued, “that’s asparagus, we believe….”

After swallowing another morsel, he studies the Andorian CSO for a long moment and, offering a curious sort of grin, asks; “Will that suffice as our measure matching yours, Asovil, or would you be disappointed if we didn’t tell you more?”

The Andorian picks up her napkin, then, and dabs delicately at her lips. “This was your idea, Tochi,” a coy smile playing on her lips and her antennae perking up a bit as she says so…

She finds the conversation amusing, at least, Zai thought as he matched her smile and offered a conceding nod.

… “I don’t know if I should release you from the challenge yet,” Asovil continued, “After all, you’ve mentioned certain events without expounding upon them, and curiosity is a scientist’s greatest tool.” Motioning to her meal with her knife, she meets his gaze and continues, “We’ve a lot of food to go through still. We can eat in silence, or we can converse. My vote is for conversation…”

“As is mine.” Watching her as she spoke, Tochi smiled and decided that he was more than a little surprised at how effusive the willowy Andorian had turned out to be. The demeanor she had presented when she first appeared on the Peregrine’s bridge a few, short hours ago and the bearing she had manitained during any interactions with the rest of the crew in that time had hinted at anything but this sort of loquaciousness.

“…To which, I’ll add, we once had a Trill tradeship land at the port city where I grew up. That was my introduction to your people. I can remember sitting at the table with my father while he talked about the technological wonders offered by that merchant and how excited he was for the opportunity to inspect a Trill Diagnostics Tool. He went on for hours about the complexity of the Trill brain, the two separate sections… I was very young and only remember bits and pieces as most of the conversation was over my head,” Asovil was saying, then, taking an indirect route to answering his question and, in doing so, only making him smile all the more…

No, he thought, taking advantage of the moment and stealing another bite of his dinner as she continued to speak, not at all the rigid, stodgy scientist that we had imagined her to be… He took up his glass, then, and took a slow sip, as she continued to speak… and this is why we talk to people.

“But, my father’s enthuesiasm entices me to this day, so forgive me if I seem too forward,” she shrugs her little shoulders a bit apologetically and cuts another piece of chicken from the breast. “And please stop me if I get too personal.”

Lifting the chicken towards her mouth, she pauses and finally asks her question, “What did you mean when you said that the Commission said that you weren’t officially selected?”

“Please,” he said, dismissing the contrite shrug with the wave of a hand and a warm smile, “most people tend to avoid the topic as if it’s somehow off limits. It’s not. Being joined isn’t some big secret that we try to hide, you know? It’s simply who we are.”

The Trill paused for a moment, took up his glass, and took another sip as he contemplated how best to answer her question. At it’s core, it wasn’t a difficult question to answer, really, but answering in a way that could be truly understood without a lengthy diatribe on how the Commission worked was another matter. As the glass came away from his lips, he gave a fractional nod and said; “I was actually only supposed to be a temporary host.”

Grinning, he set the glass on the table and rested his hands there, too. “Eleven years ago, I was Ensign Tochi Tigen; Assistant Flight Control Officer aboard the USS Perseus,” he began, “I’d only been in the post for a few months and it had taken me a long time to get there, but I was sure that I had my life as close to what I’d ever imagined it to be. I was seeing the universe, piloting some of the galaxy’s finest ships, and having fun.” He shrugged and smiled; “I was twenty-one years old and never once in those twenty-one years had I entertained the notion of being joined. My youngest sister, Myrri, she dreamed about it, studied and trained for it, and submitted her application to the Commission for it. Me?..” He chuckled softly as he shrugged this time… “I was too busy fencing, and flying, and fooling around to bother with any of that…”

He stole a bite of his salad, then, and, after swallowing and licking an errant spot of dressing from his lip, went on with his tale. “Anyway,” he said, taking up his glass and relaxing back into his seat a bit, “I’m serving on the Perseus… standard kind of day aboard a Nova-Class… and we pick up a distress call from a transport that had experienced a catastrophic failure of their deflector grid. The Captain orders us to respond, of course, so we intercept the transport and get the passengers and crew evacuated before the thing is pounded into so much space-dust… We’ve never seen so much blood… before or since…” The Trill sighed and paused long enough to indulge in a sip of his beverage. It had been a while since he’d called up the memories of that day in detail and, between his own recollections and those he’d inherited from the symbiont, it was almost surreal. He couldn’t help but shudder. “There were several dead,” he continued, trying to shrug away the reaction as he did, “most of the rest were injured, a good deal of them critically. In the end, of the eighty-six people on that transport, only thirty-two survived that day… and we are one of them.”

There was an undefinable quality – some sort of enigmatic duality, perhaps – to the smile that played on Tochi’s lips as he relegated his glass to the table and leaned in. “You asked, earlier, if we retain all of the memories from our previous hosts,” he stated, still smiling softly, “We vividly remember that day from both sides… and… well… it’s likely going to sound very strange in the telling…”

An amusedly frustrated look passed over his face for just an instant, he chuffed softly to chase it away, took another sip of the ice-berry juice, and as he returned the glass to it’s place, he shrugged and continued. “Our previous host, Kasru, was a passenger aboard that transport,” Tochi said, leaning in just a bit further, now, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the edge of the table, as well, “We were on our way to Rili Prime to mediate an accord between the Rilian Oligarchy and a group of seperatists on Rili IV… That’s not important…We were on that ship when the deflectors failed. We remember the first flurry of micrometeorites tearing through the hull. We remember the ship slowly tearing itself apart. We remember being injured… and we remember being brought back to painful consciousness in the Perseus’ MedBay at the very same moment that I remember watching the transport finally implode from my seat at CONN and setting in the course to take the Perseus away, ahead of the shockwave…”

The Trill paused, here, and studied his dinner companion for a moment - perhaps trying to decide if he’d confused her, yet, or, maybe just offering the opportunity to interject – then, from behind a quiet chuckle, he felt he had to admit; “These overlapping memories have always been the hardest to reconcile for us… for me… We apologize if I sound like I’m insane.”

((OOC: Okay… wow… this is getting to be quite lengthy. I’m going to “break” right here – as it looks to be about the halfway point or so of what I’ve written. I’ll post the second part in a bit….))



Posted on 2016-08-26 at 10:55:57.

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


CWWLLO - Tochi's tale - Part Two

There was nothing in Asovil’s response that indicated she didn’t want him to continue, so, after a bite or two of dinner, Tochi picked up the tale where he had left it. “Dr Tyrrell, the Perseus’ CMO, did all he could for Kasru, and told her that he held out hopes for her survival if she could just fight long enough to make it to the Starbase…” A hint of sadness had begun to creep into Tochi’s eyes, now, and his voice softened even more, though he still smiled, “…but she was ninety-five, and tired, and stubborn… and we aren’t unfamiliar with injuries… so, she knew she was dying. Knew that she wouldn’t last to see the starbase. And, of course, knew that if the host dies before the symbiont can be transferred to another, the symbiont dies, as well… So, she used her last hours and influences to save us.

She told Dr Tyrrell that, she did in fact, know that she would die… that we would die… if a temporary host wasn’t found immediately. There were some communications between the Doctor and the Captain and between the Captain and the Symbiosis Commission that neither I nor Kasru were privy to, but, when all was said and done, there was a concurrence made and Captain Locke asked for volunteers to serve as that temporary host,” Tochi offered a marginal shrug and took a drink, letting his eyes drift away to gaze out the window fo a moment.
“Humans can host a symbiont for a short time,” he said, “but, after 96 hours or so, it becomes seriously detrimental to the health of both. We were far more than 96 hours from the Trill Homeworld, at the time, and far enough away, even, that we wouldn’t have been able to rendezvous with a ship dispatched by the Commission in that time. So, as there were no other Trill among the evacuees from the transport, and none other than myself serving aboard the Perseus, I volunteered.” He snickered, his gaze panning back to regard Asovil, again. “I had no choice, really. I couldn’t see any of my human crewmates go through what it might have done to them… Besides, if Myrri ever found out that I had the chance to save a symbiont’s life and didn’t act, she’d have never spoken to me again.”

He fell silent, again, and appeared to be contemplating whether or not to have another sampling of his dinner. After a moment, he set his silverware down, settled back in his seat a bit, and turned to look out the window, once more. “I met Kasru, in Sick Bay, on the day she died,” smiling sentimentally as he stared at the stars, he almost murmured the words, “When I introduced myself, she held my hand, kissed my cheek, and thanked me for what I was about to do. We didn’t have much time together before the Commission’s representative was reached on a subspace channel and we were prepped for the impromptu zhian’tara ceremony… We remember the Commission’s representative being on the viewer and starting to direct Dr Tyrrell in how to perform the transfer… We remember feeling Kasru pass on as we were removed from her… and feeling her return… when we… became us, we suppose.”

He laughed, then, imagining how completely odd all of this must sound to non-Trill and, in imagining that, imagined also that, perhaps, that was the very reason so few non-Trill cared to broach the subject. The laughter served to break his star-rapt stare, too, and his gaze finally came back to settle on the lithe Andorian across the table. “Are we boring you, yet,” he asked…

((OOC: Assuming she doesn’t say “Yes!”))

“All right, then,” he grinned taking up his glass, again. “Since I had never applied to the Symbiosis Commission as an official candidate to host, I never had the benefit of a Docent to guide and train me in the years leading up to the zhian’tara, and because the ceremony was performed outside the Caves of Mak’ala without the benefit of a Guardian being present, the transition was…” Tochi seemed to struggle for a moment in his search for the proper words “…traumatic. I was in no way prepared, even as a Trill, for what felt like for hundreds of years worth of memories and experiences to be unleashed in my mind all at once… And to suddenly know hundreds, maybe thousand of people whom I had never met… to…” He chuckled as he shook his head and threw up his hands in a gesture of resignation. There was really no way he could think of that could accurately describe what the joining was truly like at first.

“Let’s just say that it did not go exceedingly well, hm? As I said, those first few days it felt like I might be losing my mind. We were temporarily relieved of duty and restricted to quarters, the sickbay, and the counselor’s office for the duration of the time it took the Perseus to offload the evacuees at SB 153 and, then, make her way to Trill and deliver us to the Commission so that Zai could be transferred to the host whom they had selected to succeed Kasru…” the XO smiled a decidedly mischevious smile, then. “By the time we were taken to the Caves, though, and despite our tumultuous joining, we had already decided that we liked being Tochi Zai and, as such, we refused to be transferred to another host.

We think, perhaps, a few Guardians and Docents felt as if they might be going mad, then,” he chuckled, “It may have been the first time they had known a symbiont to refuse a host who had been thoroughly vetted and hand selected for them by the Symbiosis Commission. Such was their reaction, at any rate.

It’s really not as if the Commission could have refused, we suppose,” Zai sighed as he relaxed into his seat and smiled across the table at Asovil, “Separating us without our consent would have killed us and they wouldn’t have wanted to take responsibility for that. So, we spent the next three months as a guest of the Symbiosis Commission and, under the often overattentive administrations of the Docent to whom we were assigned, were finally deemed fit to be released… They did call us glitchy,” he smirked over a shrug, “but they seemed satisfied enough that we wouldn’t kill ourselves if we were let go. We were reinstated to active duty shortly thereafter and returned to the Perseus…

…From there,” he said, flicking a playful wink and, at last, taking up his cutlery, again, “we just get into the tedium of my career. You likely don’t want to hear any of that.” Grinning, he cut another morsel from his plate, popped it in his mouth, and chewed. “Besides,” he said, swallowing that mouthful, “we believe it’s your turn.”



Posted on 2016-08-26 at 13:28:49.

Bromern Sal
A Shadow
RDI Staff
Karma: 124/10
3092 Posts


More goodness!

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge, “The Aerie,” Tochi and Asovil’s table - 1610


“Please,” Tochi dismisses her contrite shrug with the wave of a hand and a warm smile, “most people tend to avoid the topic as if it’s somehow off limits. It’s not. Being joined isn’t some big secret that we try to hide, you know? It’s simply who we are.”

The Trill pauses for a moment, takes up his glass, and sips. Asovil glances away from him and quietly chews, giving him the opportunity to gather his thoughts while her flitting attention darts from one table to another. A very small group of people were gathered about one table in particular where a game of chess is underway. The Andorian woman watches the skill in which the players open the game until the XO continues speaking.

“I was actually only supposed to be a temporary host.” Grinning, Tochi sets the glass on the table resulting in a barely audible clink as the two materials connect. Looking back to her dinner companion, Asovil notes his conversational position. Do I put my utensils down and stop eating? She wonders. Terrans speak throughout their meals and continue eating, but do Trills? Not sure how to proceed, Lt. Sh’iraolnas sits somewhat awkwardly with her fork and knife in hand while outwardly presenting a very interested countenance hanging on Lt. Zai’s every word.

“Eleven years ago,” he continues. “I was Ensign Tochi Tigen; Assistant Flight Control Officer aboard the USS Perseus. I’d only been in the post for a few months and it had taken me a long time to get there, but I was sure that I had my life as close to what I’d ever imagined it to be. I was seeing the universe, piloting some of the galaxy’s finest ships, and having fun.” His shrug and smile seem almost boyish to her as though she is witnessing a glimpse into a younger Tochi Zai then and there. “I was twenty-one years old and never once in those twenty-one years had I entertained the notion of being joined. My youngest sister, Myrri, she dreamed about it, studied and trained for it, and submitted her application to the Commission for it. Me?..” He chuckles softly and shrugs again, perhaps derisively, perhaps at the irony of what he’d just shared. “I was too busy fencing, and flying, and fooling around to bother with any of that…”

“Oh!” Asovil sits up straighter and raises her brows in surprised delight. “I’ve heard of this ‘fence-building’ before. You use a long, very thin weapon that you poke into your opponent for points, no?”

(OOC: A nod, a correction, some response…)

“I, too, am adept in martial sports,” she leans forward, silverware still in hand. “Though, I am adept at hand-to-hand combat as well as the chaka and the ushaan-tor and have not yet tried the foiled that is used in your sport.”

(OOC: Something further from Tochi…)

Lt. Zai’s return to his food answers Asovil’s internal struggle as to what is correct manners during dinner conversation with a Trill, and she returns to her meal by stabbing the salad with her fork.

“Anyway,” Zai says, taking up his glass and relaxing back into his seat. “I’m serving on the Perseus… standard kind of day aboard a Nova-Class… and we pick up a distress call from a transport that had experienced a catastrophic failure of their deflector grid. The Captain orders us to respond, of course, so we intercept the transport and get the passengers and crew evacuated before the thing is pounded into so much space-dust… We’ve never seen so much blood… before or since…” The Trill sighs and paused long enough to indulge in a sip of his beverage. The Andorian woman notices the shiver her companion issues, but chooses not to call attention to it. The tale thus far has been riveting, and she isn’t inclined to interrupt at this point.

“There were several dead,” he continues, trying to conceal the shiver in a shrug. “Most of the rest were injured, a good deal of them critically. In the end, of the eighty-six people on that transport, only thirty-two survived that day… and we are one of them.”

There is an undefinable quality—some sort of enigmatic duality, perhaps—to the smile that plays on Tochi’s lips as he relegates his glass to the table and leans in. “You asked, earlier, if we retain all of the memories from our previous hosts,” he states, still smiling softly. “We vividly remember that day from both sides… and… well… it’s likely going to sound very strange in the telling…”

An amusedly frustrated look passes over his face for just an instant and he chuffs softly to chase it away, takes another sip of the ice-berry juice, and as he returns the glass to it’s place, shrugs and continues.

“Our previous host, Kasru, was a passenger aboard that transport,” Tochi states, leaning in just a bit further and clasping his hands together while resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “We were on our way to Rili Prime to mediate an accord between the Rilian Oligarchy and a group of separatists on Rili IV—That’s not important—We were on that ship when the deflectors failed. We remember the first flurry of micrometeorites tearing through the hull. We remember the ship slowly tearing itself apart. We remember being injured… and we remember being brought back to painful consciousness in the Perseus’ MedBay at the very same moment that I remember watching the transport finally implode from my seat at CONN and setting in the course to take the Perseus away, ahead of the shockwave…”

The Trill pauses and Asovil stops chewing as she realizes that he’s studying her face. Did I get some of the salad dressing on my chin? Her azure eyes shift from left to right and back again as she momentarily concerns herself with her appearance. A gentle chuckle precludes the Trill’s apology. “These overlapping memories have always been the hardest to reconcile for us… for me… We apologize if I sound like I’m insane.”

Relief that he isn’t entranced by a glob of food marring her face, Asovil swallows the mouthful of salad and shakes her head a little. Reaching for her napkin, she dabs at her lips (and surreptitiously presses the cloth against her chin just in case). “Insanity isn’t recognized by the insane, Tochi. What you’re sharing must be a devastating memory to relive for any one being, but to relive it twice and from both sides of the event… well, I’d call that a special gift.

“Not,” she hurries to add upon realizing that she is being insensitive to the horrible nature of the memory. “That the actual situation is a gift, but that the ability to know both sides… To know both sides of any condition would provide insight that anyone in my position would find envious—I mean, were the situation not heinous, of course.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, the science officer drops her eyes to her plate and sits in a moment of embarrassed reconciliation with what she had just stumbled through. Still unable to find a suitable way to soften the nature of her message, Asovil cuts at her chicken and abruptly shoves the piece into her mouth.

Tochi graciously picks up the tale where he had left it. “Dr Tyrrell, the Perseus’ CMO, did all he could for Kasru, and told her that he held out hopes for her survival if she could just fight long enough to make it to the Starbase…” The Andorian woman looked into her XO’s face and sees a hint of sadness in his eyes. He continues speaking with a softened voice, though he still smiles, “…but she was ninety-five, and tired, and stubborn… and we aren’t unfamiliar with injuries… so, she knew she was dying. Knew that she wouldn’t last to see the starbase. And, of course, knew that if the host dies before the symbiont can be transferred to another, the symbiont dies, as well… So, she used her last hours and influences to save us.

“She told Dr. Tyrrell that, she did, in fact, know that she would die—that we would die—if a temporary host wasn’t found immediately. There were some communications between the Doctor and the Captain and between the Captain and the Symbiosis Commission that neither I nor Kasru were privy to, but, when all was said and done, there was a concurrence made and Captain Locke asked for volunteers to serve as that temporary host,” Tochi offers a marginal shrug and takes a drink, letting his eyes drift away to gaze out the window for a moment.
“Humans can host a symbiont for a short time,” he says, surprising Asovil with the revelation. “but, after 96 hours or so, it becomes seriously detrimental to the health of both. We were far more than 96 hours from the Trill homeworld, at the time, and far enough away, even, that we wouldn’t have been able to rendezvous with a ship dispatched by the Commission in that time. So, as there were no other Trill among the evacuees from the transport, and none other than myself serving aboard the Perseus, I volunteered.” He snickers, his gaze panning back to regard her again. “I had no choice, really. I couldn’t see any of my human crewmates go through what it might have done to them… Besides, if Myrri ever found out that I had the chance to save a symbiont’s life and didn’t act, she’d have never spoken to me again.”

He falls silent again, and studies his dinner. Asovil affects a sympathetic expression, “You didn’t have much time to consider the consequences to your own plans, did you. Are all Trill so devoted to the well-being of the symbionts?”

(OOC: Answer forthcoming)

Nodding, the Andorian sets about the Asparagus once more. To be so in sync with another lifeform… I wonder if it feels like an invasion of privacy, or if they are just psychologically accepting of the situation.
After a moment, he sets his silverware down, settles back in his seat a bit, and turns to look out the window once more, “I met Kasru, in Sick Bay, on the day she died,” smiling sentimentally as he stares at the stars, he almost murmurs the words. “When I introduced myself, she held my hand, kissed my cheek, and thanked me for what I was about to do. We didn’t have much time together before the Commission’s representative was reached on a subspace channel and we were prepped for the impromptu zhian’tara ceremony. We remember the Commission’s representative being on the viewer and starting to direct Dr. Tyrrell in how to perform the transfer… We remember feeling Kasru pass on as we were removed from her… and feeling her return… when we… became us, we suppose.”

His laugh very nearly startles the scientist and she forces control of her reflexes enough to keep from choking on her food. He returns his gaze to the lithe Andorian across the table, “Are we boring you, yet,” he asks.

“Absolutely,” she states without ceremony, having just managed to swallow her latest bite. Lifting the Andorian Ale, she tilts it his way just a bit and says, “That’s why I’ve changed the subject so many times throughout dinner.”

“All right, then,” he grins taking up his glass, again. “Since I had never applied to the Symbiosis Commission as an official candidate to host, I never had the benefit of a Docent to guide and train me in the years leading up to the zhian’tara, and because the ceremony was performed outside the Caves of Mak’ala without the benefit of a Guardian being present, the transition was…” Tochi searches for the words. “…Traumatic. I was in no way prepared, even as a Trill, for what felt like for hundreds of years worth of memories and experiences to be unleashed in my mind all at once… And to suddenly know hundreds, maybe thousand of people whom I had never met… to…” He chuckles as he shakes his head. Throwing his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation, he continues without finishes his thoughts.

“Let’s just say that it did not go exceedingly well, hm? As I said, those first few days it felt like I might be losing my mind. We were temporarily relieved of duty and restricted to quarters, the sickbay, and the counselor’s office for the duration of the time it took the Perseus to offload the evacuees at SB 153 and, then, make her way to Trill and deliver us to the Commission so that Zai could be transferred to the host whom they had selected to succeed Kasru…” the XO smiles a decidedly mischievous smile. “By the time we were taken to the Caves, though, and despite our tumultuous joining, we had already decided that we liked being Tochi Zai and, as such, we refused to be transferred to another host.

“We think, perhaps, a few Guardians and Docents felt as if they might be going mad, then,” he continues his mirth. “It may have been the first time they had known a symbiont to refuse a host who had been thoroughly vetted and hand selected for them by the Symbiosis Commission. Such was their reaction, at any rate.

“It’s really not as if the Commission could have refused, we suppose,” Zai sighs and relaxes into his seat, smiling across the table at Asovil. “Separating us without our consent would have killed us and they wouldn’t have wanted to take responsibility for that. So, we spent the next three months as a guest of the Symbiosis Commission and, under the often over-attentive administrations of the Docent to whom we were assigned, were finally deemed fit to be released… They did call us glitchy,” he smirks over a shrug. “but they seemed satisfied enough that we wouldn’t kill ourselves if we were let go. We were reinstated to active duty shortly thereafter and returned to the Perseus…

“…From there,” he says, flicking a playful wink and, at last, taking up his cutlery, again. “We just get into the tedium of my career. You likely don’t want to hear any of that.” Grinning, he cuts another morsel from his plate, pops it in his mouth, and chews. “Besides,” he says, swallowing that mouthful. “We believe it’s your turn.”

Asovil smiles and shakes her head in wonderment, “How, in all the Universe, can I top a story such as that, Tochi? My life story pales in comparison. I believe the the only thing I could have done with my life that would have been more pale by comparison is to have joined the Pa’lek Tov and been a monk my whole life.”

(OOC: Olan had said Drake might join in, so seeing as I have to run off to a funeral right now, I’m going to leave it here for the moment. Eol, feel free to leave a patronizing comment from Tochi provoking the further revelation of intimate life details.)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1600


"Yeoman Turiak," Dana says as she turns to him with a frown. "I am not an officer and even if I was I wouldn't wish to conform to the outdated policy of referring to all Officers as Mister regardless of their Gender. Refer to me a Petty Officer or Nurse."

Turiak raises his eyebrows in response, the only indication that he finds her response odd as he answers, “As you order, Ma’am.”

She steps up to check out the vitals of PO Bachmann and frowns, "Yes... it kind of looks like some sort of current passed through his body from his hand up to his brain." She sounds puzzled by what she was seeing.

"Yes," she confirms with a nod. "Let’s perform the intensive scans, especially in his cranium. I want to see if there is any sort of damage there that might explain his behaviour."

“Yes, Ma’am,” Turiak replies again and immediately turns to initiate the scan receptor routines. Retrieving the scanning crown for Bed 3 from the wall’s storage container, Turiak begins to position it on Ryan’s cranium, adjusting for fit and cross-checking the signal with Conn 3.
Yeoman Turaik glances to the door as it opens admitting the security detail with phasers drawn. It is logical to assume weapons might be needed, he concludes as Petty Officer Cook sighs and steps in front of them.

“Hold up,” She says in a commanding tone. “Everything is under control for the moment. So put away your phasers in ‘my’ sickbay.”

Turiak returns his attention to the scan results, recalibrates the depth setting, and studies the imagery that’s appearing on screen.

“Good,” Dana’s voice carries throughout the room. “Now, since you’re not needed at the moment, please stand by the door over there just in case you are.”

Petty Officer Bachmann’s scan is focusing on the front quarter of the cranium sectioned off by the Coronal plane and the Sagittal plane. The scan is producing a mid-signal intensity image that shows no sign of the same kind of tissue damage he has noticed in the technician’s limb, shoulder, and neck. Turiak uses the index fingers of both hands to expand the view, then presses the command to intensify the depth of the scan just as the doors to sickbay slide open again. Looking, once again, to see if he is needed, the Vulcan is introduced to someone he’s never seen on the ship before.

“What the situation?” the newcomer asks with authority. “Why was security called? Can anyone tell me what happened?"

“Lt. Reid,” Petty Officer Cook replies, approaching him. “Petty Officer Bachmann had some kind of accident.” Turiak determines that the Head Nurse has things well in hand and returns to his deep scan study. “He said one of the Wall panels over there ‘attacked’ him.”

“We had to sedate him to keep him from injuring himself,” she continues. “He was babbling about something in the wall that attacked him. He does appear to have received some sort of ‘shock’ to his arm that appears to have done minor damage to his tissues, but we are performing deeper scans to determine the extent of the damage.”

“I want you to notify Ensign Williams here when he becomes lucid,“ the man, whom Yeoman Turiak has determined is named Lt. Reid, instructs Petty Officer Cook. “I need you to question this man and find just what happened in here. Also, contact engineering to take that unit off line and see if there might be something malfunctioning that could have lead Bachmann to think it attacked him. While you wait for Bachmann to come-to, head down to security and have Petty Officer Enpok T'Darin fill you in on all our excitement. I’m sure Lt. Berk will brief you when he comes off the bridge.”

Turiak activates the diffusion weighted scan and watches as the results appear on screen. Negative, he concludes. Interesting.
“Engineering has been summoned to investigate the panel,” PO Cook interjects. “I suggest you have your detail stand by and make sure that no one approaches that panel till Engineering can look at it.”

“Oh. I’m Lt. Reid, the ACTO.” Momentarily confused by the turn in conversation, the Vulcan turns and notices that the Lieutenant is addressing one of the security personnel at the door. “Welcome aboard the Peregrine. Let me know if you get bored. Crewman Wren, please show our new Security Officer to the Security Section.” Lt. Reid turns to address Nurse Cook. “Thank you, let me know if there is anything else to report.”

“Of course, Lt,” Cook replies.

Yeoman Turiak returns to his scans as the security officer leaves sickbay. The insula appears to be undamaged. Petty Officer Bachmann’s head looks wholly healthy to the Vulcan.

"Petty Officer Cook to Dr. Moore." The beep of Cook’s comm badge causes Turiak to become momentarily distracted from his review. "you are needed in Sickbay."

“Petty Officer Cook,” Turiak intones, returning the scan results to their original screen settings. “I have found nothing that would indicate any continuation of the tissue damage into the cranium. It would appear that the damage is constrained to this region,” the Vulcan indicates Ryan’s arm, shoulder, and neck. “Of Petty Officer Bachmann’s body. Furthermore, I can conclude no further indication within our patient of what caused this damage.”

(OOC: Tag Yanamari and BooBoo.)


Posted on 2016-08-26 at 14:27:04.

Boo Boo
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Karma: 27/1
673 Posts


Cook

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1602


"Yeoman Turiak," Dana says as she turns to him with a frown. "I am not an officer and even if I was I wouldn't wish to conform to the outdated policy of referring to all Officers as Mister regardless of their Gender. Refer to me a Petty Officer or Nurse."

Turiak raises his eyebrows in response, the only indication that he finds her response odd as he answers, “As you order, Ma’am.”

Dana sighs and shakes her head slightly, "Just Petty Officer will do Yeoman." For a Vulcan he seems to have a hard time understanding the simplist things.

“Petty Officer Cook,” Turiak intones, returning the scan results to their original screen settings. “I have found nothing that would indicate any continuation of the tissue damage into the cranium. It would appear that the damage is constrained to this region,” the Vulcan indicates Ryan’s arm, shoulder, and neck, “of Petty Officer Bachmann’s body. Furthermore, I can conclude no further indication within our patient of what caused this damage.”

Dana examines his scans and nods, "Good work Yeoman. We will keep him secured and sedated till the Doctor arrives and examines him further. She may have more tests for us to perform."

Looking at the area of the damage she is reminded of Thorson's injuries and how they appear similar. She voices her concerns to the Vulcan.

"If PO Bachmann did receive some sort of 'shock'," she said half to herself, "then something like this could have happened to Chief Engineer Thorson. It could have caused damage to his prostethic. He was apparently attacking one of the consoles in Engineering."

(OOC: Ok, hoping to hear from Yanamari soon. Would be good to have the Doctor in on this one. )



Posted on 2016-08-26 at 20:13:38.
Edited on 2016-08-26 at 20:13:54 by Boo Boo

Boo Boo
RDI Fixture
Karma: 27/1
673 Posts


Miraan

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge - 1610


Miraan was almost finished with her fruit and was sipping on her juice as she looked about the Lounge area. She saw the XO, Lt Zai, Lean had called him, and the Andorian Female Officer still engaged in deep conversation. Definately something going on there it seemed. She had heard from someone that the Andorian came aboard at the SB and here she was already looking very 'close' to the yummy looking XO. Miraam thought that she worked fast.

She was about to finish up when the door to the observation lounge opened and in walked a young crewman wearing a security uniform. He looked very young, probably just out of the Academy from the looks of it. He wasnt no Lt Zai, but he was quite handsome in his own right.

He walked across and got something from the replicator and then looked around for a table. Miraan locked eyes with him as his gaze passed over her; the young man paused and almost stared at her. She smiled at him and he almost dropped his tray. She gestured to an empty chair at her table. The crewman looked around as if to see if she was gesturing to someone else. When he looked back at her, she nodded and gestured again. He approached the table slowly looking like a Denobulan lemur trapped in a hunter's spot light.

"There's space at this table," Miraan said in her soothing melodic voice, "Don't worry Crewman, I don't bite... hard." When his eyes widened, she chuckled and gestured again. "I'm just kidding, please sit down. I would love the company."

The crewman sat down and cleared his throat before speaking, "I'm Crewman Myers, Clint Myers."

"My name is Miraan," she responded and sipped her juice, "I'm new aboard ship. Having just came on at SB118."

"Yeah... ah I mean Yes I know," Clint responded, "I'm.. ah in Security so it is ... ah.. I mean.. we get files on all the new arrivals."

Miraan looked at him and smiled. She was only having a little fun. She had not interest in him really other than conversation. But she did get a little satisfaction in teasing the young man.

"Please," she said finally, "Eat. I have almost finished so I thought you might like to sit with me a few minutes and talk."

"Ah.. yeah," Crewman Myers responded, "I mean yes I would like that." He finally smiled at her and then picked up his utensils and began to eat as Miraan sipped her juice and watched him.



Posted on 2016-08-26 at 21:11:33.

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


More with Tochi and Asovil

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 5; “The Aerie,” Tochi and Asovil’s table – 1610


“I was twenty-one years old and never once in those twenty-one years had I entertained the notion of being joined. My youngest sister, Myrri, she dreamed about it, studied and trained for it, and submitted her application to the Commission for it. Me?..” He chuckles softly and shrugs again, perhaps derisively, perhaps at the irony of what he’d just shared. “I was too busy fencing, and flying, and fooling around to bother with any of that…”

“Oh!” Asovil sits up straighter and raises her brows in surprised delight. “I’ve heard of this ‘fence-building’ before. You use a long, very thin weapon that you poke into your opponent for points, no?”

Tochi grins at the Andorian’s reaction (and her botching of the term). “Fencing, not ‘fence-building’,” he amends her terminology but still nods his affirmation at her summary, “but, yes; that’s the basics of it.”

“I, too, am adept in martial sports,” she leans forward, silverware still in hand. “Though, I am adept at hand-to-hand combat as well as the chaka and the ushaan-tor and have not yet tried the foiled that is used in your sport.”

“Foil,” he gently corrects, again, unable to keep himself from smiling in amusement at her unintentional flubbing. “In most competitions, the weapons are called foils or epees. Outside of competitions, though, we prefer a blade known as a rapier… there’s something about the weight and balance that’s just comfortable. We’d be happy to show you, some time, if you’d care to try.”

He stole a bite of his salad, then, and, after swallowing and licking an errant spot of dressing from his lip, went on with his tale.

“Anyway,” Zai says, taking up his glass and relaxing back into his seat. “I’m serving on the Perseus… standard kind of day aboard a Nova-Class… and we pick up a distress call from a transport that had experienced a catastrophic failure of their deflector grid. The Captain orders us to respond, of course, so we intercept the transport and get the passengers and crew evacuated before the thing is pounded into so much space-dust… We’ve never seen so much blood… before or since…” The Trill sighs and paused long enough to indulge in a sip of his beverage.

“There were several dead,” he continues, “Most of the rest were injured, a good deal of them critically. In the end, of the eighty-six people on that transport, only thirty-two survived that day… and we are one of them.”

The Trill relates the tale as he (as they) remember it, up to the point at which Kasru awoke in sickbay aboard the Perseus and an as yet unjoineed Tochi piloted that same ship away from the doomed transport.

The Trill pauses, here, and studies his dinner companion for a moment - perhaps trying to decide if he’s confused her, yet, or, maybe just offering the opportunity to interject – then, from behind a quiet chuckle, at her reaction, he feels he has to admit; “These overlapping memories have always been the hardest to reconcile for us… for me… We apologize if I sound like I’m insane.” “These overlapping memories have always been the hardest to reconcile for us… for me… We apologize if I sound like I’m insane.”

At that, Asovil swallows a mouthful of salad and shakes her head a little. Reaching for her napkin, she dabs at her lips. “Insanity isn’t recognized by the insane, Tochi. What you’re sharing must be a devastating memory to relive for any one being, but to relive it twice and from both sides of the event… well, I’d call that a special gift.

“Not,” she hurries to add, “That the actual situation is a gift, but that the ability to know both sides… To know both sides of any condition would provide insight that anyone in my position would find envious—I mean, were the situation not heinous, of course.”

He smiles softly, watching as the science officer chews at her bottom lip and drops her eyes to her plate and sits, as if somehow embarrassed by what she had just said. Then, Asovil cuts at her chicken and abruptly shoves the piece into her mouth.

A soft chuckle ecapes the XO’s lips, then, and he reassuringly offers; “We know what you meant, Asovil;” and, at that, returns to the tale

“Dr Tyrrell, the Perseus’ CMO, did all he could for Kasru, and told her that he held out hopes for her survival if she could just fight long enough to make it to the Starbase, but she was ninety-five, and tired, and stubborn… and we aren’t unfamiliar with injuries… so, she knew she was dying. Knew that she wouldn’t last to see the starbase. And, of course, knew that if the host dies before the symbiont can be transferred to another, the symbiont dies, as well… So, she used her last hours and influences to save us.

She told Dr. Tyrrell that, she did, in fact, know that she would die—that we would die—if a temporary host wasn’t found immediately. There were some communications between the Doctor and the Captain and between the Captain and the Symbiosis Commission that neither I nor Kasru were privy to, but, when all was said and done, there was a concurrence made and Captain Locke asked for volunteers to serve as that temporary host,” Tochi offers a marginal shrug and takes a drink, letting his eyes drift away to gaze out the window for a moment.

“Humans can host a symbiont for a short time, but, after 96 hours or so, it becomes seriously detrimental to the health of both. We were far more than 96 hours from the Trill homeworld, at the time, and far enough away, even, that we wouldn’t have been able to rendezvous with a ship dispatched by the Commission in that time. So, as there were no other Trill among the evacuees from the transport, and none other than myself serving aboard the Perseus, I volunteered.” He snickers, his gaze panning back to regard her again. “I had no choice, really. I couldn’t see any of my human crewmates go through what it might have done to them… Besides, if Myrri ever found out that I had the chance to save a symbiont’s life and didn’t act, she’d have never spoken to me again.”

He falls silent again, and studies his dinner.

“You didn’t have much time to consider the consequences to your own plans, did you,” she asks, a compassionate tenor coloring her voice.

“Not a lot, we suppose,” he answers with a faint shake of his head and a marginal shrug.

“Are all Trill so devoted to the well-being of the symbionts?”

“We would like to hope so,” he smiles, “they are part of us… no pun intended. Even to the unjoined, the symbionts are vital to our culture. To be a Trill and not be faithful to that relationship would be akin to an Andorian forsaking the Ushaan.”


Asovil seems to accept this analogy with a nod of her head and, as she sets about the Asparagus once more, he sets his silverware down, settles back in his seat a bit, and turns to look out the window once more, “I met Kasru, in Sick Bay, on the day she died,” smiling sentimentally as he stares at the stars, he almost murmurs the words. “When I introduced myself, she held my hand, kissed my cheek, and thanked me for what I was about to do. We didn’t have much time together before the Commission’s representative was reached on a subspace channel and we were prepped for the impromptu zhian’tara ceremony. We remember the Commission’s representative being on the viewer and starting to direct Dr. Tyrrell in how to perform the transfer… We remember feeling Kasru pass on as we were removed from her… and feeling her return… when we… became us, we suppose.”

He returns his gaze to the lithe Andorian across the table, “Are we boring you, yet,” he asks.

“Absolutely,” she states, and, lifting the Andorian Ale, she tilts it his way just a bit and says, “That’s why I’ve changed the subject so many times throughout dinner.”

“All right, then,” he grins taking up his glass, again. “Since I had never applied to the Symbiosis Commission as an official candidate to host, I never had the benefit of a Docent to guide and train me in the years leading up to the zhian’tara, and because the ceremony was performed outside the Caves of Mak’ala without the benefit of a Guardian being present, the transition was…” Tochi searches for the words. “…Traumatic. I was in no way prepared, even as a Trill, for what felt like for hundreds of years worth of memories and experiences to be unleashed in my mind all at once… And to suddenly know hundreds, maybe thousand of people whom I had never met… to…” He chuckles as he shakes his head. Throwing his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation, he continues without finishes his thoughts.

“Let’s just say that it did not go exceedingly well, hm? As I said, those first few days it felt like I might be losing my mind. We were temporarily relieved of duty and restricted to quarters, the sickbay, and the counselor’s office for the duration of the time it took the Perseus to offload the evacuees at SB 153 and, then, make her way to Trill and deliver us to the Commission so that Zai could be transferred to the host whom they had selected to succeed Kasru…” the XO smiles a decidedly mischievous smile. “By the time we were taken to the Caves, though, and despite our tumultuous joining, we had already decided that we liked being Tochi Zai and, as such, we refused to be transferred to another host…”

The Trill proceeds to relate the events of the following months that he spent under the care of the Symbiosis Commission and concludes with being his having been reinstated to active duty aboard the Perseus.

“…From there,” he says, flicking a playful wink and, at last, taking up his cutlery, again. “We just get into the tedium of my career. You likely don’t want to hear any of that.” Grinning, he cuts another morsel from his plate, pops it in his mouth, and chews. “Besides,” he says, swallowing that mouthful. “We believe it’s your turn.”

A smile lights up Asovil’s face and she shakes her head in wonderment, “How, in all the Universe, can I top a story such as that, Tochi? My life story pales in comparison. I believe the the only thing I could have done with my life that would have been more pale by comparison is to have joined the Pa’lek Tov and been a monk my whole life.”

“Somehow, we find that hard to believe,” he chuckles, reaching for his glass. “Every life story, in some way or another, is a light in the dark of the void, Asovil…” He tips the glass to his lips, draining the remains of the beverage and, as he returns the glass to the table, the Trill offers a wry grin. “Trust us; we’ve got five,” he winks. “We know beyond a certainty that yours shines as brightly as any.”

((OOC: And there it is… room for continuation, interruption (which may happen, anyway, if Leah notices an empty glass), etc… Tally-HO!!! ))



Posted on 2016-08-27 at 11:12:07.
Edited on 2016-08-27 at 11:12:47 by Eol Fefalas

Eol Fefalas
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RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


Geek Squad; al rescante!!!

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 5, Shuttle Bay 2; Section M-13 – 1554

Lincoln had worked himself into something of an uncomfortable spot. In order to attach an ODN coupler to the sub-node relay he was working on, he had had to kneel on the deck next to the access panel and, with the coupler in one hand and a hex key in the other, reach in and up, and, once his hands reached the relay, he had to attach the coupler without actually being able to see it. He had found the relay and, with the pinky finger of one hand, had identified the coupling port and aligned the coupler to it. Squatting uncomfortably, both arms in the access hatch up to his elbows, and his face pressed against the bulkhead, he fumbled with getting the hex-key lined up with the set screws he needed to tighten in order to seat the coupler. He mumbled a curse, once, when he nearly dropped the key…

“Wha’d ya say,” Megan queried from where she was huddled next to the Aurora Angel’s computer core. She had just attached an ODN coupler to the thing and was setting the conduit in place, waiting for him to say he was ready for her to pass the cable his way.

“Nuffin,” he answered, his voice warped a bit by the way his face was pressed against the bulkhead, “a’most dropped the darn thing… but… I think…” Something of a muffled grunt escaped him then and he held his breath, further contorting his features as the key had finally found the set-screw and his cramped fingers worked furiously to tighten the thing down… “I got it!” The exclamation was followed by a relieved sigh as the young engineer withdrew his arms from the access port and uncontorted himself.

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he stood up and shook out his arms, “I may wanna think about relocating that sub-node. What a pain in the…”

=/\=Lt Sa’eridon to Crewman Adler,=/\= his commbadge cut the thought and the sentence short, =/\=Acknowledge, please.=/\=

Megan poked her head out of the deck-hatch she had climbed into to access the core and she and Lincoln exchanged quizzical expressions. “I thought ya were off duty,” she said.

“I am,” he replied with a shrug, tapping his commbadge to respond to Karri, then.

“Adler, here,” he said, motioning to Megan that he was ready for her to start feeding the ODN cable through the conduit, “What can I do for you, el-tee?”

Megan nodded her acknowledgement and, in a flash of bouncing curls, disappeared back into the hatch as Lt Sa’eridon contined. =/\=Sorry to bother you on your off-hours, Lincoln, but we’ve been made aware of a situation in Sickbay that sounds as if it is right up your alley, I believe the expression goes?=/\=

“Yeah… Sure,” Lincoln answered, “Yes, sir. What’s the situation?”

=/\=Apparently,=/\= Lt Sa’eridon explained, =/\=PO Bachmann received quite a shock from console MN Zero One: One-Nine-Two Alpha…=/\=

Lincoln’s features screwed up in an expression of disbelief. “That’s impossible, el-tee,” he said, “I just ran diagnostics on all of the consoles in Sickbay, not twenty-four hours ago. Everything was in the green.”

=/\=Which is why I called you,=/\= the Caitan woman’s voice returned, =/\=Despite those diagnostics, PO Bachmann is claiming the thing attacked him and, from what I understand, there are physical signs of his having received a shock. Can you look into it, please?=/\=

“Yes, ma’am… er… sir… er… I’ll be there in just a few minutes, el-tee.”

=/\=Thank you, Crewman Adler. Report back with your findings when you have them.=/\=

Lincoln’s commbadge chirruped to denote the channel closing and he heaved a sigh, half out of puzzlement at how the med-conn could have possibly zapped Bachmann, and half out of disappointment at having to abandon his time with Megan as a result of it having done so. “Hey, Megan,” he called half-heartedly, taking a couple of steps toward the deck-hatch.

“Do ya have it, then?” she called back, “I’ve run th’ thing as far’s it’ll go.”

“Yeah… no,” he huffed, flicking a glance back at the access panel as he neared the edge of the hatch, “Actually, I… uh… I’ve gotta go to work.”

“Oh,” she sounded disappointed.

“Yeah,” he sighed as the tiny shuttle-pilot’s head appeared above the edge of the hatch, “I guess Bachmann got bit by the conn down there at Station One.”

“Got bit?” Confusion melded with the tones of disappointment in Megan’s voice as she started to clamber out of the access hatch and Lincoln offered her a hand up.

“Some random, electrical discharge or something,” he shrugged, “Zapped him pretty good, I guess…”

“Tha’s too bad,” Megan didn’t quite frown and, taking the proffered hand, pulled herself back up onto the deck, “I’ve been havin’ fun helpin’ ya.”

“Yeah,” Lincoln grinned, more than a little ruefully, “me, too. Got a lot more done than I thought I was going to, thanks to you.”

Megan brushed at her uniform to smooth and settle it, and, smiling again, offered him a little nod. “Glad ta help,” she chirped, “Thanks fer givin’ me th’ tour an’ invitin’ me ta stay.”

“Yeah,” he grinned as they strolled toward the door, “we’ll have to do it again, sometime. We’ve still got a good dozen and a half nodes to tie in.”

“I’d like tha’,” Megan smiled back as they stepped through the Angel’s transporter room and into the corridor, “Jus’ lemme know when, ‘kay?”

“I will.”

“Marvy.”

Not another word was spoken until Lincoln and Megan had made their way down the aft ramp and the young computer specialist had powered the unfinished craft down via the roll-away console. Then, as Megan moved to retrieve the PADD she had abandoned after first having met Lincoln a few hours ago, he followed along. Once she had gathered her things he offered a half-hearted smile and a shrug. “I guess I’d better go,” he said.

“Aye,” she smiled, “duty calls an’ all o’ tha’. I should prob’ly get back ta my studyin’. First shift on th’ bridge tomorrow. Don’ wanna look completely daft…”

“Yeah,” he said, shuffling his feet a little, “I bet you’ll do fine… Good luck though.”

“Thanks,” she beamed, “It was nice ta meet ya, Linc…”

“You, too, Megan.”

“…I’ll see ya again, soon, I hope?”

“Yeah!!!” He might’ve blushed a little, as he hadn’t meant it to sound as overly-ehtusiastic as it had (and was. “Uh.. Yeah,” he repeated, trying to at least sound a tad more reserved, “I hope so.”

“Okay… Ta, then,” Megan chirped before turning and bouncing happily away, presumably to go find another spot to study.

“Yeah,” Lincoln said, watching her go, “Ta…”

It wasn’t until PO Owen had disappeared behind one of the shuttles further out in the bay hat he realized he’d been staring… and grinning like an idiot. He blinked and shook his head to break his trance but was unable to fully erase the grin from his face. “Right,” he said to himself, grabbing up his tricorder and tool, “Sickbay…”

Deck 4; Sickbay – 1604
While he had been making his way along the corridor to Sickbay, only part of his mind was entertaining what could have possibly caused the conn panel to have shocked PO Bachmann the way it had. Crewman Lincoln Adler was still more than half thinking about the time he’d just spent with Megan, and the dopey grin that had formed on his face when she had said that she hoped to see him again soo was still etched there, even as he strolled through the doors to the Medical Department. That smile fell from his face completely, though, when he walked in and caught sight of Lt Reid and the Security detail…

What on the moons of Azaleh? What’s Security doing here?
…his befuddled glance tracked to the bed where a restrained and, apparently, sedated PO Bachmann was being tended by Yeoman Turiak…

Seriously? he blinked in bewilderment, All of this for a shock? How bad could it have been?
His gaze curiously swept the place, tracking first to the console that Lt Sa’eridon had specified, looking for any signs of carbon-scoring or EM interference that he might’ve expected from something that appeared to be as bad as the way it suddenly looked. When he failed to find any such evidence, though, he cast a baffled glance at the unconscious Bachmann and, finally, regarded CPO Cook. “Excuse me, Chief?”

“Yeah… Uh… Crewman Adler; Engineering,” he said, “Lt Sa’eridon said something about a malfunctioning console?”

((OOC: Aaaaaand GO! I’m off to lunch… back soon.))



Posted on 2016-08-29 at 10:48:20.

Boo Boo
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Karma: 27/1
673 Posts


Chief Cook

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 4; Sickbay – 1604


Petty Officer Adama walked into Sickbay and saw the Security and wondered what had happened while he had been gone. He saw Chief Cook and Yeoman Toriak tending to PO Bachmann on one of the Medical Beds.

“Ahhh.. , “ he began and then Chief Cook turned and saw him and her expression was not a happy one.

“Petty Officer Adama,” she said as she stormed towards him, “would you care to explain why you were not in Sickbay during you shift?”

“Sorry Chief,” he stammered, “I asked Yeoman Toriak to cover for me for a few minutes while I went down to my quarters to retrieve my PADD. I’m sorry, but I got there and I couldn’t find it and…”

“Excuse me, Chief?”

Chief Cook turned and saw someone else had entered Sickbay; a Engineering Crewman from the looks of him.

“Yes?” She said a little harshly as she was still upset with PO Adama.

“Yeah… Uh… Crewman Adler; Engineering,” he said, “Lt Sa’eridon said something about a malfunctioning console?”

“Oh yes,” she said in a calmer tone, “just a sec.”

“We will finish this discussion later,” she addressed PO Adama, “for now take over from Yeoman Toriak who has been doing your job. Rather well I might add.”

Leaving the flustered PO Nurse behind her; she turned back to the Engineering Crewman.

“Over here Crewman,” Chief Cook said as she walked towards the offending station, “this is the station that PO Bachmann says ‘attacked’ him. We don’t see anything here but he does have slight damage to his hand, arm and up to his shoulder that is indicative of a electric shock of some sort. Please examine this console but be careful, I don’t want another patient if I can help it. Any questions?”

(Response, will backpost if necessary)

“Good,” she said as she left him to it.

“You!” She said pointing to the Security detail, “keep an eye on Crewman Adler.”

She turned then to PO Bachmann’s bed where Yeoman Toriak was filling in PO Adama on what had transpired while he had gone.






Posted on 2016-08-29 at 12:39:37.

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


I told ya there was nothing wrong with this thing....

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 4; Sickbay – 1605

“Excuse me, Chief?”

CPO Cook’s head snapped around; “Yes?” As harshly as the acknowledgement came from the woman’s mouth, that ‘Yes?’ may have well been a ‘What?!’

Geez, lady! Bite my head off, why don’t you? I just got here

“Yeah… uh…” he stammered in the wake of her obvious irritation, “…Crewman Adler; Engineering. Lt’ Sa’eridon said something about a malfunctioning console?”

“Oh, yes,” Chief Cook said, some of the annoyance gone from her tone, now, “just a sec.”

Okay… so it’s not me, then. Sorry for thinking that at you, Chief Cook…

“Aye aye, Chief,” he answered. His gaze tracked to console MN-01-192A as Cook promised PO Adama a rain-check on the drubbing she’d apparently been giving the guy when Lincoln had walked in a moment ago.

“We will finish this discussion later,” she informed Adama in a clipped, no-nonsense manner, “For now, take over from Yeoman Toriak, who has been doing your job; rather well, I might add.”

For a moment, Lincoln wondered what CPO Cook was doing aboard a starship… he could easily imagine her being more at home with a post as a Drill Instructor at one of Starfleet’s Recruit Depots… but, that pondering didn’t last too long as, having dealt with Adama, she faced Lincoln, again, and motioned him toward the allegedly glitchy console.

“Over here, Crewman,” she said, leading him toward the station.

Lincoln followed behind her, readying his tri-corder to initiate a Level 3 diagnostic scan of the console.

“This is the station that PO Bachmann says ‘attacked’ him,” Chief Cook said, drawing up next to the Medical Station in question, “We don’t see anything, here, but, he does have some slight damage to his hand, his arm, and up to his shoulder that is indicative of an electric shock of some sort. Please, examine this console but be careful; I don’t want another patient if I can help it. Any questions?”

Lincoln, stifling a smirk at the use of the word ‘attacked,’ was already giving the station a visual once-over. “Yeah… I’ll be careful, Chief,” he answered, his cursory inspection having revealed little more than a faint smudge on the surface of the conn, “not planning on touching it just yet”. He lifted his tri-corder, then, and, initiating the level 3 routine, began to scan the med-station. He watched the tricorder’s readouts for a moment and, at first, didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, there, either. As the device continued its diagnostic routine, Lincoln finally turned his gaze to CPO Cook for a second. “If I do find something, Chief,” he asked, “will it be okay if run a shunt to isolate this station for a while?”

((OOC: Assuming something along the lines of “How long is ‘a while,’ Crewman?”))

“Well,” Lincoln answered, “I’m running a level 3, now… That’ll take ten minutes, tops. If that doesn’t reveal anything, I guess, I’ll have to open it up and try a level 2. Yeah… that’ll take an hour or two.”

((OOC: Again, assuming some sort of response…))

“Okay. Thanks, Chief,” he said, then, his eyes tracking back to the tri-corder’s display, “I’ll see what I can see and let you know what I find.”

“Good,” she answered curtly before turning away.

“Yeah…”

“You!” Cook’s voice barked from somewhere over his shoulder. “Keep an eye on Crewman Adler.”

Like I’m gonna steal something? Geez!

A few minutes later, the tri-corder bleeped as it concluded its diagnostic scan of the console. Lincoln studied the report, shrugging faintly when nothing out of the ordinary was revealed, and, then, saved it before putting the device away. He glanced around the room, looking for Chief Cook, but, when he didn’t see her right off, he shrugged again, and tapped his commbadge with one had while opening his tool kit with the other. “Adler to Engineering.”

=/\=Engineering,=/\= Lt Sa’eridon’s voice purred, =/\=Have you found something, Lincoln?=/\=

“Negative, ma’am… er… sir,” he replied, stepping around to the side of the med-station and starting to remove the access panel, there, “I just completed a level 3 and got nothing. Request permission to run a shunt around MN-01-192A while I run a level 2.”

=/\=Permission granted, Crewman Adler,=/\= the Caitan lieutenant confirmed, =/\=as long as doing so won’t interfere with Medical’s current workload.=/\=

Lincoln’s gaze flitted around the Sickbay, again. It didn’t look like the situation had changed in the last ten minutes. “I think they’ll be okay, el-tee,” he answered, pulling the panel free and setting it aside, “I’ll keep it warm, just in case.”

=/\=Acknowledged. Keep me posted.=/\=

“Aye, sir. Adler out,” he tapped his badge, again, and, as he peered through the access panel, called out to no one in particular; “Okay… so, yeah… I’m pulling this station from the network for a bit. I’ll probably have it down for ninety minutes, two hours. If you all need it back before then, just let me know.”

((OOC: Seems like a good place to leave off… Lincoln will commence a level 2 diagnostic that, as stated, should take him a couple of hours to complete. Feel free to use and abuse or just interact with him as you see fit… ))



Posted on 2016-08-29 at 15:12:55.
Edited on 2016-08-29 at 15:14:24 by Eol Fefalas

Bromern Sal
A Shadow
RDI Staff
Karma: 124/10
3092 Posts


Update. Tag! You're it!

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge, “The Aerie,” Tochi and Asovil’s table - 1611


“Somehow, we find that hard to believe,” Tochi Zai chuckles, reaching for his glass. “Every life story, in some way or another, is a light in the dark of the void, Asovil.” He tips the glass to his lips, draining the remains of the beverage and, as he returns the glass to the table, the Trill offers a wry grin. “Trust us; we’ve got five,” he winks. “We know beyond a certainty that yours shines as brightly as any.”

The Andorian woman drops back against the rest of her chair, her fork still sticks from the remainder of the chicken breast, her turquoise eyes slightly hooded as she regards her XO with the hint of a smile on her full lips. Was that flirting? Did he just flirt with me?
“That,” she chews for a second on her bottom lip. “Is pure unproven theory, Tochi. For all you know I am a drab, boring scientist. However, for the sake of continued conversation, I will share with you an experience of mine from the Imperial Academy.

“I was nineteen cycles by the time I made the decision to leave further scientific pursuits through the School of Science and Arts. To be accepted into the Imperial Academy, and to eventually serve in the Imperial Guard… that’s an honor for the recipient and the recipient’s family. One would expect such a duty to fall on the eldest child, but my brothers had no such desire. So, it was left up to me.

“I wasn’t there for more than a month before I received my first dressing down. I’ve since come to appreciate just how impactful it was in my career, but at the time, I was mortified.

“Zero four-thirty and I’ve just woken up to prepare for the day when the barrack doors burst open. It’s a raid—another ship ransacks your ship and attempts to take the Regalust, which is a trophy made of crystal representing the actual starship your training ship is named after. These cadets are flowing into the dark quarters like water through a cracked ice dam and skirmishes are breaking out all over.

“I am a modest sort,” she smiles and shakes her head sadly at the memory. “So, I struggle to get my jumpsuit on and am knocked unconscious while focusing on getting my feet into the leggings. I wake up with my Master Chief standing over me, furious. He hauls me to my feet—mind you, I still had my jumpsuit around my ankles—and yells at me, telling me I was dead.” Asovil adopts a mock gravel-filled voice and snarls, “You’re dead, Crewman First Class Sh’iraolnas, and for what? Your vanity? You’re dead, your shipmates are dead, and you have your pants around your ankles to show for it!”

Looking up from beneath her long lashes at the XO she suddenly adds, “Don’t get the wrong idea! My underclothing wasn’t immodest in and of itself—Imperial Guard Issue, I assure you. Still, the thought of my underclothing being revealed was, at the time, very embarrassing. I was a young girl, mind you.

“In any case, I spent the next forty-eight hours performing every task with my jumpsuit around my ankles wearing that tank top and those shorts until our ship was able to successfully perform a raid that returned the Regalust to its rightful place above the Chief’s door.”

Dropping the fork on the edge of her plate, she reaches for the Andorian Ale, her antennae shrinking backward a bit in embarrassment. “Not my finest moment,” she admits before taking a sip. “Funny though. That story has allowed me to break the ice with every Starfleet bunkmate I’ve had.”

(OOC: Continue, interrupt, whatever happens next!)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1605


Crewman Toriak steps away from the console as Petty Officer 2nd Class Peter Adama moved in hastily to take over duties he should have been performing to begin with. Toriak isn’t in the least bit offended. He prefers the task of record keeping, scheduling personnel appointments, making certain that the details are correct and that nothing is missed. Though his training is primarily technical and administrative, he has elected to educate himself on certain scanning procedures, the reading of charts, and other variable tasks that make him more valuable to the department and the ship on a whole.

“If you need anything,” he says quietly to the flustered Adama. “Do not hesitate to ask.”

Turning from the task of monitoring Bachmann, Toriak calmly avoids interaction with the newly arrived engineer, deftly removes himself from the immediate vicinity of the obviously agitated Petty Officer Cook, and returns to the desk from which he had been working when Adama had first asked him to cover. Sliding into the swivel chair, the Vulcan calls up his paused work and returns to annotating the ship’s medical files with information from various databases throughout Starfleet and the Federation. New viruses and bacteria are reported all the time by away teams encountering new and alien substructures. One of the detail-oriented yeoman’s duties is to keep the department updated on all new found contagions, and it is something he takes very seriously.


Posted on 2016-08-29 at 17:43:40.

Boo Boo
RDI Fixture
Karma: 27/1
673 Posts


Chief Cook

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Sickbay, Deck 4 1605


“This is the station that PO Bachmann says ‘attacked’ him,” Chief Cook said, drawing up next to the Medical Station in question, “We don’t see anything, here, but, he does have some slight damage to his hand, his arm, and up to his shoulder that is indicative of an electric shock of some sort. Please, examine this console but be careful; I don’t want another patient if I can help it. Any questions?”

Lincoln, stifling a smirk at the use of the word ‘attacked,’ was already giving the station a visual once-over. “Yeah… I’ll be careful, Chief,” he answered, his cursory inspection having revealed little more than a faint smudge on the surface of the conn, “not planning on touching it just yet”. He lifted his tri-corder, then, and, initiating the level 3 routine, began to scan the med-station. He watched the tricorder’s readouts for a moment and, at first, didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, there, either. As the device continued its diagnostic routine, Lincoln finally turned his gaze to CPO Cook for a second. “If I do find something, Chief,” he asked, “will it be okay if run a shunt to isolate this station for a while?”

“How long is ‘a while,’ Crewman?”

“Well,” Lincoln answered, “I’m running a level 3, now… That’ll take ten minutes, tops. If that doesn’t reveal anything, I guess, I’ll have to open it up and try a level 2. Yeah… that’ll take an hour or two.”

“OK,” Chief Cook replied, “as long as it doesnt affect the other med-stations.”

“Okay. Thanks, Chief,” he said, then, his eyes tracking back to the tri-corder’s display, “I’ll see what I can see and let you know what I find.”

“Good,” she answered curtly before turning away.

While Crewman Adler tended to his diagnostics, Chief Cook nodded to Yeoman Toriak, “Thank you for your assistance Yeoman.” As the Vulcan left, the Chief went back to PO Adama and though she kept her voice down, the security and the Engineering Crewman could catch an occasional word or two.

“Inexcusable …. disgrace … unacceptable,” among others. When she seemed to wind down, she gave PO Adama his instructions to keep an eye on PO Bachmann's vitals and to make sure that he remained sedated until the Doctor arrived to have a look at him. The Chief moved to her desk across the Sickbay and sat and watched the Crewman doing his diagnostic of the panel. She wondered if he would find anything. She had a lot to talk to the Doctor about once she got here; could this sort of shock have been responsible for Chief Thorson's arm malfunction? While she didn't think the panel 'attacked' PO Bachmann, since 'attacked' implied a purpose or desire, but some kind of power surge could be responsible.





Posted on 2016-08-29 at 18:46:06.
Edited on 2016-08-29 at 18:46:46 by Boo Boo

   


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