While The Captain's Away

All posts in this segment are congruent with the Yesteryear
Posts in this thread featured the following NPC's
MustaphaSig-1.pngGorskySig.png
FehrSiggy.pngGovanSiggy.jpg
And Rev S'Van
jason-isaacs.jpg


USS Hawking
Main Security Office
Deck 14

“It is time to go hunting!” the ebullient exclamation entered the office just ahead of Lieutenant jg Fehr, nominally in charge of Security during Tenanji’s absence.

Zal Govan, Dramm Pal and Ensign Jereen blinked back at the Elosian, who was rubbing his hands together in what looked to be gleeful anticipation. It seemed he had finally gotten past being left out of a mission which would have placed him in the immediate vicinity of female Starfleet Officers dressed in next to nothing, by modern standards.

Jereen recovered, first. “Hunting what, Sir?” she asked with her habitual calm.

“I have no idea,” the response was no less effervescent, “but whatever it is, it is keeping our phasers off-line. The diagnostics have returned inconclusive too many times,” he strode about the room very like a general addressing his troops prior to a key battle and his native dialect thickened with his passion for the subject. “It is time we had a look at the issue, first-hand.”

The three looked at one another, then back to their superior. Dramm cleared his throat, “You wish to check the strips…”

“By hand, yes. Everyone suit up… we are going for a walk!”

Zal and Jereen immediately made for the door but…

“There is a problem, Mr. Pal?” the friendly tone and bright smile of the lieutenant turned to the frozen Xepolite.

Pal’s mouth worked a moment before anything actually came out, “I… just… that is… I’m not that… comfortable with working in…” he pointed generally towards the hull.

“Ah,” Fehr placed his hands behind his back and strode up to the nervous crewman, “Working in space is not for you? Strange then, that you would accept a posting on a starship. Have no fears,” he clapped the taller male on the shoulder before turning away. Govan noticed a sly smile beginning to form on Pal’s mottled face but then, “I shall have your transfer to a more suitable station in place by end of shift,” Fehr whipped back in time to see the smile dropping like a dead leaf. “That is what you wish, is it not?” his tone was conciliatory in the extreme. “I had only thought, with your switching shifts to cover the brig for three full cycles… perhaps the rigors of starship duty stations were too much…”

“No, no, Sir,” Dramm pulled back from the abyss. “I, I only thought to spare the others from the tedium of the brig. No sir, I can… and will yes, [i]will[/i] be happy to take the walk… yes… indeed…” Continuing to utter a series of banal reassurances, the Xepolite exited the office. Govan, after exchanging one long look with Jereen, followed.

Fehr gestured towards the ensign to wait a moment.

“Could you have had him transferred, Sir?” the Denobulan tilted her head inquisitively.

“Not without a sign-off from Tenanji, at the very least,” Fehr admitted. “But given what I have already seen of Mr. Pal, I felt it necessary to put the fear of the gods in him.” Gesturing towards the door, he followed the ensign into the corridor. The EV access airlock was on deck ten, and the other two should be well on their way by now. “If that fear does not suffice, then it may be I shall have to put the issue to Lieutenant Tenanji.”

Around the bend in the corridor, Dramm Pal, who had made an excuse to go back to his locker, counted to thirty before following his ‘superiors’ to the lift. He’d been trying for a starship since joining the ‘Fleet. A mobile post was a dream for one of his nature… after all, who knew what unique treasures a vessel of exploration might come across, or what profits an enterprising crewman might glean from them.

But to get to the goods, he had to keep the job and to keep the job, it looked like he’d actually be expected to work.

For the present, at least. Judging enough time had passed, it was a determined and thoughtful Dramm Pal who made for the turbolift.

____

USS Hawking
Briefing Room Deck 1
Stardate 61116.70 (February 11, 2384)

“You found [i]what[/i]?” Alex Gorsky, mid-table, leaned around the height of Ibrahim Mustafa, uncomfortably aware of Lieutenant Rotaran on his right. On the other side of Mustafa was Lieutenant jg Fehr, currently keeping taps on Security and it was Fehr who’d just uttered the fatal words…

“Nanites. Not many, considering the proclivity of the beast but nonetheless…”

“In the phaser strips…” Gorsky pressed.

“Yes, I believe I said that.”

“Well, crap,” was the young scientist’s take as he ran the data provided by Fehr and his team, who’d taken the walk on the hull and found, first hand, what the sensors had missed repeatedly. “They shouldn’t be here. All the nanites we inserted into the systems during the… crisis,” easiest to refer to the debacle created by Janus in non-specifics, “had a life span of only ninety minutes. They would have croaked long before now…”

“Unless,” Koz Rotaran’s musical voice inserted, “they were affected by the multi-dimensional code,” when the others looked his way, and it was always amusing to Koz how much work it took males of other species to meet his eyes, “We were never able to fully assess the scope of Janus’ code’s abilities. It was operating in multiple dimensions and if even one of Alex’ nanites were in the path of a dimensional rift…”

“The nanite may have been mutated…” Mustapha inserted.

“By whatever brane of reality it touched…” Alex added.

“Before the rift closed down.”

Fehr took a deep breath, which he found helpful when faced with the combined intellects of science and engineering. Looking towards the end of the table, where Master Chief Jackson sat, eyes narrowed as he, too took in the brain trust’s summation he filled the conversational void with, “And that is all very interesting but, in the meanwhile, we have no phasers.”

“Nope,” Jackson leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling, “n’ I’d be willin’ to bet my last plug of tobacco them nanites did for the sensors, too.” He blew at his mustache before looking back at Gorsky who felt himself blushing under the Chief of the Boat’s attention. While the captain and much of the senior staff were off to the races, Hawking was under the nominal control of Admiral Kaz, to be used at her discretion but day-to-day operations were under the oversight of William Jackson.

“I’d like to remind everyone we were kind of under a lot of pressure at the time…”

“Not blamin’ you, son,” Jackson tossed off the kid’s protest, “but question is, what do we do about them, now?”

“If there are mutant nanites running amok in the systems,” Koz threw in, “the most effective method of treatment is to immerse the Hawking in a sustained burst of gamma radiation.”

Dead silence.

Then, “Ah’ll get in touch with Captain Kaz and the OD at Taylor-Kane,” Jackson said, “Fer now, you lot assume we’re a go on Rotaran’s suggestion and start gettin’ yer people packed up.” It’d be a bitch and a half to get done but if evacuating the Hawking were the best way to get her runnin’ straight again, Jackson was more than ready to go there.

He just hoped the folks at the station would be more than ready to take on the remaining crew of the Hawking for the duration.

_______
OSS Taylor-Kane
Command Module, Conference Room
Stardate 61117.00 (February 12, 2384)

“Ensign Gorsky, reporting as ordered,” Alex stood uncertainly in the entrance of the conference room, where he’d been called almost the second he Purcell had beamed over to the station, last of the crew to vacate the Hawking prior to bombarding her with gamma radiation. The bug-out had gone fairly smoothly: with a fifty crew gone to the Constellation and another good chunk on the ground taking leave, there weren’t a lot of bodies to move.

The food, plants and various and sundry biological experiments were another matter, to say nothing of the dog. It was a bit horrifying how much stuff there was on a starship. Still, Hawking was clear of all life but the mutant nanites so he figured he could hang on the station or maybe hit the planet and see what there was to see. Not that he was thinking of looking for Finn. Farthest thing from his mind. Really.

Not that it mattered because he’d materialized and been ordered here, to this room where one man waited.

“Ensign,” the guy, who looked to be a Human/Romulan mix, greeted. “Commander Rev S’van, Starfleet Research and Development.”

And here it was. “Sir,” even Alex, possibly one of the least formal members of the Hawking, knew when to play the part. Especially now, when he knew what the commander was after.

“I understand you’ve been holding something that belongs to us.”

Alex surprised himself by wishing Torrik were here, or even that new Science officer, the scary chick, O’Keefe, dealing with this instead of his own irreverent ensignness. “I’m sorry, sir?” he asked, playing the ignorance card early.

“The… item… which was used to sabotage the Hawking, it came from our division. Not the control device itself, which, from the reports I’ve seen is far more transportable than the prototype we were working on back in ‘78, when we first realized that our systems had been compromised.”

“Starfleet R&D was working on a device which could imprint one sentient’s personality on another subject, subverting their will and rights as an individual and, oh yeah, drive them apesh… render them completely insane in the process?” Okay, maybe not so perfectly ‘Fleet. “Sorry, we never got hold of that particular ‘item’.”

Eyes narrowed, S’van remained passive, “I understand a certain level of bitterness might be expected after such an… unpleasant affair as the Hawking experienced. However, the Engramatic Cloning Device, which, for your information, was in development and, apparently, stolen, before my time, is not my concern.” He turned to the table and lifted a PADD, which he studied as he continued to speak, “I am speaking of the control device Lieutenant Hawthorn made use of to subvert the ship’s systems.”

“Oh, that stolen device.”

“Yes, that one. We want it. The modifications made to the signal-emitter will prove invaluable in our understanding…”

Ping! “Understanding?” Not that Alex and Linc hadn’t been thinking along these lines but, “The brains of R&D designed this tech… Commander… how limited can their understanding of it be?”

“Amazingly, that is not your concern. Your only concern… Ensign… is that we want it. Upon receipt of these orders,” he offered up the PADD, “you are to deliver the device to my hands, immediately, for transport back to Earth.”

Alex accepted the PADD, read the directive carefully, “Well, Sir, these orders are certainly all… in order,” he shook his head, “But immediately is going to be a problem,” even as that perfectly groomed eyebrow started to arch, Alex continued, “See, since the device in question messed so severely with the Hawking’s systems, we’ve just evacuated the ship in order to bombard her with ohh, about fifteen Ci’s of gamma radiation per cubic meter so we can kill off the mutated nanites which were an indirect side effect of the tampering. In fact, the bombardment’s going to be starting,” he checked his wrist chrono, “five minutes ago.”

The checked eyebrow dropped in a sulk. “Very well, how long until you can reboard the vessel?”

“Forty-eight hours, minimum, if we can take an accurate Bi measurement. If it’s all clear, I can get your device for you.”

“I shall be awaiting your contact. The USS Siq’ar will be rendezvousing with me within seventy-two hours, at the latest. I expect to be on board, with the package, at that time. You are dismissed.”

“Sir.” Gorsky made the sharpest turn of his entire Starfleet career and hot footed it out of the room, PADD still in hand. Yeah, the orders were probably for real, and that guy might even be Rev S’Van and he might even be a Commander in Starfleet, but no way was he an R&D geek.

Alex might not be able to get around giving up the tech but he’d be damned if he gave it away blind. He tapped his combadge once he’d gotten a good distance from the conference room.

=/\=Gorsky to Purcell=/\=

=/\=Purcell here=/\=

=/\=Can you find us an open terminal? I need to do some digging…=/\=

Post featuring NPC Alex Gorsky

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OSS Taylor-Kane
En-route to Conference Room 3
Stardate 61121.6 (February 14, 2384)

“You’re sure we have to do this?” Gorsky was asking as Lieutenant j.g. Fehr set a rapid pace towards the same conference room in which the original meeting with Commander Rev S’van had taken place. S’van who, it turned out, certainly was a commander but, as Alex had correctly assumed, not with Research and Development.

[I]”He’s Section 31,” Fehr had announced when he’d come to investigate why two of the Hawking’s scientists had appropriated a terminal in the Command Module and commenced to repel all comers, even those who [i]worked[/i] at that station until Mr. Jackson had gotten a complaint and then sent Fehr to ‘deal with them brainiac kids’.

Never minding that Purcell, at close to one hundred years of age, was far from being a kid.

“You’re sure?” Gorsky, who’d been running through every personnel file he could find, legitimately or otherwise, looked at the security officer, “I mean, not that I doubt you but even Section 31 has files and so far…”

“I’m sure,” Fehr replied. “I have met with S’van before. Whatever it is he wants, you give it to him, without hesitation, without question. Just give him the device and walk away as quickly as possible.”[/I]

But come the day it appeared that Fehr didn’t trust Gorsky to follow those orders and was now escorting the ensign to his meeting with the half-Romulan commander.

“You are quite sure the device is as you found it?” Fehr asked for about the eleventh time since beaming over from the refreshingly nanite-free Hawking.

“Yes, it’s as-is…was, whatever,” Gorsky replied. “Look, I get the whole, Section 31 guys are darkside but, seriously, how bad can this guy be? I mean, say there were a slight maladjustment in the keypad-to-bioneural memory functions… I’m just kidding, there’s nothing, well we don’t think there is but… what, would delivering damaged goods be bad for my career?”

“Only if you consider breathing a necessary facet of career advancement,” Fehr replied under his breath, “And I am [i]not[/i] kidding.”

By then the two had arrived and the doors of the conference room swished open and there was Commander S’van, waiting in exactly the same position he’d been in the first time Alex had seen him. “Ah, Mr. Gorsky,” the quietly satisfied smile set Gorsky’s teeth on edge, “Prompt, I see. And you’ve brought company.”

“S’van,” the Elasian replied in a tellingly neutral tone. “Mr. Gorsky, please hand over the device and then give us the room.”

It said something about the sudden drop in temperature that Alex didn’t even think of hesitating. He simply handed over the case containing Janus’ slaving device and with a short nod, escaped.

He didn’t leave, however. He merely found a convenient nook in the corridor and waited, counting the beads of sweat forming on his spine until the doors opened and S’van exited. The Section 31 officer avoided Gorsky’s eyes as he turned and briskly made his way to the turbolift.

Moments passed and there was still no sign of Fehr and Alex was about to go and look for the body when the conference room doors slid apart once again and the pro-tem security chief entered the corridor, his dark eyes as calm as they had been upon entering.

“You’re still here?” Fehr asked, upon spying the lurking ensign.

“Yeah, I, ah, yeah.” Alex fell in with the other man. “Just wanted to make sure the… exchange…”

“I am touched by your concern,” the white flash of a smile didn’t quite reach the nearly-black eyes, “in a completely platonic sense, you understand.”

“Absolutely.” Alex kept pace for another moment before, “So, about you and S’van…?”

“An old story,” the short reply.

“How’d it end?”

Fehr turned his dark gaze upon the scientist, “It hasn’t… yet.”

There was no response Alex could make to that.

Post featuring Lieutenant jg Fehr and and Alex Gorsky

________
OSS Taylor-Kane
Command Module
Stardate 61121.9 (February 14, 2384)

Lieutenant Fehr had escorted Ensign Gorsky to the transporters, that he may return to the Hawking. For himself, and in particular after spending even just a few moments in the company of Rev S’van, Fehr felt the strong need for a stronger drink and, with luck (not that he ever needed luck), some warm companionship to follow. It had been weeks, [i]weeks[/i] since he’d enjoyed the simple pleasure of a woman’s company. Damn Tenanji, leaving him in charge while the so-strange race went on.

Well, he was off-duty now, and would remain so for the next eighteen hours and, as Fehr had learned early in his career, a man could achieve a great deal of… relaxation… in eighteen hours.

He’d only just begun to seek out the directions to the public tower when,
=/\=Hawking to Lieutenant Fehr=/\=

An Elosian curse which passersby heard as the UT equivalent of squiggles and asterisks escaped his lips. =/\=Hawking, this is Fehr, and this had better be…=/\=

=/\=There is a Priority 1, coded transmission, your eyes only, from Lieutenant Tenanji on the Constitution=/\= the dulcet tones of T’Preen informed him. =/\=May I transmit to your location?=/\=

=/\=Hold on that, Ensign=/\= it took him only a few moments to return to the transporter bay and appropriate a communications terminal. =/\=Please forward to Command Module, terminal Tango-Foxtrot-zero-zero-niner, I am standing by.=/\=

=/\=Aye to Tango-Foxtrot-zero-zero-niner, commencing transmission. T’Preen out.=/\=

Fehr waited and, when the incoming message pinged, entered his own operating code manually, allowing him to read the report his superior had prepared.

Another series of epithets confounded the universal translator as Fehr read through the details of the first, seriously misplaced beacon to Crewman Anderson’s highly noticeable investigation to the orders to incarcerate one of the Engineering crew on suspicion of terrorist activities - which given that, according to Tenanji, Pierce, the engineer in question was also involved in Anderson’s previously-traced search, may have been motivated by the mysterious ‘they’ whom the two young people had been looking for. Tenanji’s own investigation had been effectively shut down by this sudden surge in interest in the Constitution and he now looked to Hawking and the personnel of the Outpost to see it through.

Discretely.

“This,” he murmured, “is what Ellison would refer to as a clusterf…”

“Sir?”

Fehr turned towards the transporter technician, whom he’d displaced.

“I’m sorry, sir but, there are some security from planetside needing to beam up…”

“Yes, of course, one moment,” the Hawking’s security officer ripped a copy of the report onto one of the isolinear chips kept in a small receptacle by the terminal. Once he had the copy in hand, he followed Tenanji’s instructions and forwarded the report to Master Chief Jackson, Admiral and Captain Kaz, cc’d it to Leah Rin Tau and, because Tenanji believed strongly in a civilian element behind the oddities he’d been tracking, to the local head of the Department of Justice who, when he consulted the Outpost’s directory, was one Terence Wolfe.

That done, he returned the console to the anxious transporter operator and strode out of the room. His plans for the next eighteen, now seventeen and three-quarter hours had, of necessity, altered somewhat… he would simply have to forgo the drinking. If anyone decided to take him to task for his amended plan, he could, quite truthfully, explain that women liked to talk and, as a part of his newly assigned investigation into the regatta, it was vital that he collect as much information, from as many sources, as possible.

Featuring NPC Lieutenant jg Fehr

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USS Hawking
Ibrahim Quarters
Stardate 61121.9 (February 14, 2384)

“All I know,” Katie was saying as she stepped across the minefield of blocks and ‘fuzzy friends’ Eli and Lia were using to create a new planet, “is I’m not going to be able to handle them solo.”

“Where is Chris heading, anyway?” Baya asked, accepting the cup Katie offered as she inquired about the senior teacher’s plans. Chris Volek had been responsible for the eleven and up students.

“Going home, to Tara…” Katie began then remembered her non-Human audience. “Sorry, he got the homesick bug, wanted to spend some time on Mars, maybe catch up with his old flame, who wrote recently.” She turned an amused eye to the toddlers, “I can’t blame him but I really wish we’d at least made it back to Megiddo before he jumped ship. What kind of chance do we have of finding a teacher here?”

Baya sipped her tea, hoping it would sooth the queasyness which had been lasting longer each day. “I might be able to help with that,” she commented.

“Hmm?” Katie looked up from her study of the two kids, who were having a conversation in Standard, Portuguese and Toddler, mixed. “With what?”

“I might be looking to move away from archeology for a while,” Baya said, “since pretty soon I’ll be restricted from a number of the chemicals we use and, after that, I expect I’ll be toting the baby around with me every….”

Out in the corridor, Mustapha Ibrahim, coming home after a long shift, during which the normally collected engineer had actively cursed (well, internally) the absence of Javier Costala, froze at the horrifying sound of his wife’s shriek. Racing into their quarters, fearful of catastrophe, he was completely nonplussed to see Katie, perfectly safe, lifting Edded Baya into a spinning embrace, to the applause and cheers of Eli and Lia.

“Oh, Katie, please,” Baya was saying, “the morning sickness…”

“Right, right…” Katie immediately ceased her happy dance and turned her happy gaze to her husband, “Oh, Mustapha, guess what?”

“Congratulations, Baya,” Ibrahim, quick on the uptake, smiled. “A new life is a joy to us all.”

“Oh, yes, well, that, too,” Katie bounced up and down a bit, “but Baya is going to apply for the position of secondary teacher, too! I won’t have to go begging to Starfleet! And we already know each other! And…”

“And it is all good news,” he agreed, wrapping an arm around his ebullient wife. “Now we need only get the rest of the Hawking’s family home from their race, and all will be very well, indeed.”

“To their coming home,” Baya agreed, raising her tea in a toast.

“Coming home,” Lia echoed happily, clicking blocks with Eli.

“Home,” Katie sighed, leaning into Mustapha and feeling settled for the first time in what felt like forever.

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