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Andre Tholvel
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Dino27Captain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-20
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 1435
Location : P.C.G. York ready room
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Thu Aug 21, 2014 11:01 pm
R.R.W. Alth'Indor Sickbay 22:13 Day 2
Vardok felt the adrenaline begin to ebb. He felt his leg muscles begin to shake as the power surge took its toll. He hated that feeling of weakness that came after an emergency. But it was a relief to be alive and unharmed.
He flipped the safety back "on" on his disruptor before holstering it and turning to T'nai.
"What happened doctor? Tell me everything." He said as he set his wrist-comp to "record."
Doctor T'nai removed the extreme sedative cartridge from his hypospray and exchanged it for a much milder stress-reliever; which he produced to administer to himself. He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts.
"Anyone else want some nice calming medicine?" Everyone declined. "No? Alright then.
I was asleep, Vardok. When I have a patient in critical condition, I sleep a few hours at a time in my sickbay-office. I let the nurse keep an eye on things while I rest. A patient in that bad a shape requires constant observation, and I hate to be too far away.
So before I went to rest, I checked on him, saw that he was still stable, and then went into my office and reclined in my chair. That was at twenty-one-hundred hours. I dozed off about five minutes after that.
Just before I commed you, I don't know what time it was, I woke up to the computer blaring at me to alert me that the Centurion had flatlined.
I rushed out of my office to the ICU biobed. That dagger was through his heart when I got there. He had been disconnected from the blood-gas infuser and the blood bag; and his breathing tube had been removed from his mouth. He was dead. Time of death was twenty-two-oh-three-hundred hours.
I reconnected him to the blood-gas infuser, the blood bag, and the breathing tube, in case there was any chance of reviving him. I tried. By the Elements* I tried! But there was nothing I could do to bring him back. Both nurse Vreenak, one my our nurses, and the nurse Neral, from the escape pod, helped me as I worked." Vardok interrupted here.
"T'nai, the dagger is still in his heart, why didn't you remove it?" General S'Teveirr warned me that T'nai is dangerous? But that's just the suspicious mind of someone whose lived under the shadow of the Tal Shiar all his life... right? No. T'nai is my friend, good friend! I've known him for years. I trust him with my life. I owe him my life many times over! He's not a suspect here... at least, not in my book. But on the record? I hate the burden of command. The doctor didn't hesitate to reply for a moment.
"Whoever killed him knew exactly what they were doing. They used that knife to scramble his heart up pretty good. There was zero functionality left in his heart.
I hooked him up to an external emergency heart. I used both cortical and neural stimulators on him.
He was too weak and too far gone prior to death to bring him back. Whatever makes someone alive wasn't a part of him anymore.
Removing the dagger might have caused even more bleeding, although he was already bleeding profusely. I needed to get oxygen to his brain, and get him alive again, before I did anything else.
If I could get him alive and stable, I would've implanted an artificial heart. But it was too late, so the dagger stayed."** S'ren listened intently before asking his next question.
"Doctor, did you see anything that you think could be of any use in identifying the killer?" As if there is any doubt. Nora'dex has to be behind this. But we have to be sure. Blind justice isn't just at all. T'nai thought for a moment before replying.
"Nothing. I didn't see anyone leaving. I thought I heard the door open while I was trying to revive the patient, but I glanced up and no one was there. Maybe that was the killer leaving? I was too focused on trying to save the Centurion to think about it at the time, much less investigate it.
As soon as it was clear that there was nothing I could do to save my patient, I contacted you. At the same time I looked at the security recording. It wasn't working properly. After twenty-two-oh-two-hundred hours, nothing was recorded.
When you told me to, I grabbed my hypospray and erected the forcefield around myself and nurse Vreenak. Nurse Neral stayed next to the Centurion.
Vardok raised his eyebrows. Things were getting more and more complicated.
"Nurse Neral. What time did she come into sickbay?" I was so busy listening to Commander Nora'dex, I didn't see her leave. Or those Remans for that matter. Why didn't I have someone physically watching them? The doctor scratched his chin in thought for a moment.
"She wasn't here this evening at twenty-one-hundred hours when I went to sleep. She must've come in sometime after that. She was already here when I woke up. She helped me try to save the Centurion.
Computer, what time did nurse Neral come into sickbay?" The computer chimed and replied.
"Nurse Neral entered sickbay at twenty-two-oh-one-point-zero-four-hundred hours." S'ren and T'nai exchanged startled glances. Vardok had one more question for his chief medical officer.
"You said the time of death was twenty-two-oh-three-hundred hours doctor?" T'nai nodded in affirmation.
"Au'e."***
OOC
* The Elements are a spiritual belief of the Romulan culture: "The concept states that there are no deities but instead asks for reverence to be displayed to the Elements that make up the universe itself. These elements are: Fire, Earth, Water, Air and the Archelement which oversees the others." - Memory Beta
In this case, it is used as a curse. I figured no one would mind my doctor saying "by the fire, dirt, water, and air I tried!" though.
** Picard was actually stabbed through the heart as a young man and was able to live with the implanting of an artificial heart. I assumed here that since S'Teveirr was elderly and already severely injured, he was not able to be saved. My knowledge of medicine, both modern and Trek, is not infallible. In fact, Trek medicine can save many individuals to an unrealistic degree, but can't help others. My guess is that it's all story driven.
*** Ae'e = "Yes" in Romulan
Sorry I didn't get more up today, I spent the afternoon and evening watching the Matrix on TV. A sci-fi fan like myself needed to see that. (I kept missing the end of the third movie) Makes you think... back to SoL.
End OOC
Vardok felt the adrenaline begin to ebb. He felt his leg muscles begin to shake as the power surge took its toll. He hated that feeling of weakness that came after an emergency. But it was a relief to be alive and unharmed.
He flipped the safety back "on" on his disruptor before holstering it and turning to T'nai.
"What happened doctor? Tell me everything." He said as he set his wrist-comp to "record."
Doctor T'nai removed the extreme sedative cartridge from his hypospray and exchanged it for a much milder stress-reliever; which he produced to administer to himself. He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts.
"Anyone else want some nice calming medicine?" Everyone declined. "No? Alright then.
I was asleep, Vardok. When I have a patient in critical condition, I sleep a few hours at a time in my sickbay-office. I let the nurse keep an eye on things while I rest. A patient in that bad a shape requires constant observation, and I hate to be too far away.
So before I went to rest, I checked on him, saw that he was still stable, and then went into my office and reclined in my chair. That was at twenty-one-hundred hours. I dozed off about five minutes after that.
Just before I commed you, I don't know what time it was, I woke up to the computer blaring at me to alert me that the Centurion had flatlined.
I rushed out of my office to the ICU biobed. That dagger was through his heart when I got there. He had been disconnected from the blood-gas infuser and the blood bag; and his breathing tube had been removed from his mouth. He was dead. Time of death was twenty-two-oh-three-hundred hours.
I reconnected him to the blood-gas infuser, the blood bag, and the breathing tube, in case there was any chance of reviving him. I tried. By the Elements* I tried! But there was nothing I could do to bring him back. Both nurse Vreenak, one my our nurses, and the nurse Neral, from the escape pod, helped me as I worked." Vardok interrupted here.
"T'nai, the dagger is still in his heart, why didn't you remove it?" General S'Teveirr warned me that T'nai is dangerous? But that's just the suspicious mind of someone whose lived under the shadow of the Tal Shiar all his life... right? No. T'nai is my friend, good friend! I've known him for years. I trust him with my life. I owe him my life many times over! He's not a suspect here... at least, not in my book. But on the record? I hate the burden of command. The doctor didn't hesitate to reply for a moment.
"Whoever killed him knew exactly what they were doing. They used that knife to scramble his heart up pretty good. There was zero functionality left in his heart.
I hooked him up to an external emergency heart. I used both cortical and neural stimulators on him.
He was too weak and too far gone prior to death to bring him back. Whatever makes someone alive wasn't a part of him anymore.
Removing the dagger might have caused even more bleeding, although he was already bleeding profusely. I needed to get oxygen to his brain, and get him alive again, before I did anything else.
If I could get him alive and stable, I would've implanted an artificial heart. But it was too late, so the dagger stayed."** S'ren listened intently before asking his next question.
"Doctor, did you see anything that you think could be of any use in identifying the killer?" As if there is any doubt. Nora'dex has to be behind this. But we have to be sure. Blind justice isn't just at all. T'nai thought for a moment before replying.
"Nothing. I didn't see anyone leaving. I thought I heard the door open while I was trying to revive the patient, but I glanced up and no one was there. Maybe that was the killer leaving? I was too focused on trying to save the Centurion to think about it at the time, much less investigate it.
As soon as it was clear that there was nothing I could do to save my patient, I contacted you. At the same time I looked at the security recording. It wasn't working properly. After twenty-two-oh-two-hundred hours, nothing was recorded.
When you told me to, I grabbed my hypospray and erected the forcefield around myself and nurse Vreenak. Nurse Neral stayed next to the Centurion.
Vardok raised his eyebrows. Things were getting more and more complicated.
"Nurse Neral. What time did she come into sickbay?" I was so busy listening to Commander Nora'dex, I didn't see her leave. Or those Remans for that matter. Why didn't I have someone physically watching them? The doctor scratched his chin in thought for a moment.
"She wasn't here this evening at twenty-one-hundred hours when I went to sleep. She must've come in sometime after that. She was already here when I woke up. She helped me try to save the Centurion.
Computer, what time did nurse Neral come into sickbay?" The computer chimed and replied.
"Nurse Neral entered sickbay at twenty-two-oh-one-point-zero-four-hundred hours." S'ren and T'nai exchanged startled glances. Vardok had one more question for his chief medical officer.
"You said the time of death was twenty-two-oh-three-hundred hours doctor?" T'nai nodded in affirmation.
"Au'e."***
OOC
* The Elements are a spiritual belief of the Romulan culture: "The concept states that there are no deities but instead asks for reverence to be displayed to the Elements that make up the universe itself. These elements are: Fire, Earth, Water, Air and the Archelement which oversees the others." - Memory Beta
In this case, it is used as a curse. I figured no one would mind my doctor saying "by the fire, dirt, water, and air I tried!" though.
** Picard was actually stabbed through the heart as a young man and was able to live with the implanting of an artificial heart. I assumed here that since S'Teveirr was elderly and already severely injured, he was not able to be saved. My knowledge of medicine, both modern and Trek, is not infallible. In fact, Trek medicine can save many individuals to an unrealistic degree, but can't help others. My guess is that it's all story driven.
*** Ae'e = "Yes" in Romulan
Sorry I didn't get more up today, I spent the afternoon and evening watching the Matrix on TV. A sci-fi fan like myself needed to see that. (I kept missing the end of the third movie) Makes you think... back to SoL.
End OOC
JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)- Join date : 2013-05-19
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 870
Location : Adventure Comix Studios
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Human 
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 12:30 am
Captain Johnnyred smiles back at the man on the screen. "Captain Candirith, it's a pleasure to meet you. Send Siriondil my best wishes and my thanks for the ships and the intel. Also, let him know that I'll make it worth his while if he let's me have first dibs on whatever the newest pieces of heavy firepower is that he pumps out."
Johnnyred's demenor changes to a more serious tone. "Hmmm... so the Sons of Liberty have been found out, eh? That was quick. I guess that would explain the PhoeniX Engineering Group showing up. Have you gentlemen heard of them before?"
@ PXR - Two Squadrons of F-85 Rapiers meet the PXE dropships along with a squadron of F-101 Daggers led by a F-114A Phoenix.
A voice crackles over the intercomm. "Hello, PXE vessel. This is Major Locke Highwind, squadron leader of the Red Daggers. I've been sent by Captain Johnnyred to escort you to the Arondite. Just sit back and follow our flight path."
Johnnyred's demenor changes to a more serious tone. "Hmmm... so the Sons of Liberty have been found out, eh? That was quick. I guess that would explain the PhoeniX Engineering Group showing up. Have you gentlemen heard of them before?"
@ PXR - Two Squadrons of F-85 Rapiers meet the PXE dropships along with a squadron of F-101 Daggers led by a F-114A Phoenix.
A voice crackles over the intercomm. "Hello, PXE vessel. This is Major Locke Highwind, squadron leader of the Red Daggers. I've been sent by Captain Johnnyred to escort you to the Arondite. Just sit back and follow our flight path."
Andre TholvelCEO- Join date : 2013-05-19
Posts : 381
Location : Aboard the IFS Varda, viewing construction of the next flagship.
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Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 5:22 am
[OOC]Dino, Star Trek medicine is very simple, didn't you see either of the new ones? ANYONE can be saved from any ailment or injury, even death, if the plot needs it. If there's no reasonable explanation, they'll just deus-ex-machina their way through. xD[/OOC]
Candirith responds to Captain Johnnyred. "I will supply you with three Wrangler MkIII frigates, and a Falcon-class frigate. To save time, the ships will be operated by DI crews; I hope you find them to your satisfaction.
"As to the PXE, yes, we know them. They are the third of three major corporations in the galaxy; though the PCG may not be extensively familiar with them, these are the Yaka empire, the PXE, and my own humble company. I am not, however, entirely familiar with their business model or code of ethics, so I cannot guarantee their loyalty. It could be that they are loyal only to their money," the Captain's face darkens, and he puts considerable scorn into the words, "as many weapons manufacturers are. However, as I said, my knowledge of them is incomplete, and you may find them worthy and true allies; if you would have my advice, I advise caution, and covering your own flanks."
*three Wrangler MkIII frigates and one Falcon frigate are dispatched to the SoL, and will arrive before the assault*
Candirith responds to Captain Johnnyred. "I will supply you with three Wrangler MkIII frigates, and a Falcon-class frigate. To save time, the ships will be operated by DI crews; I hope you find them to your satisfaction.
"As to the PXE, yes, we know them. They are the third of three major corporations in the galaxy; though the PCG may not be extensively familiar with them, these are the Yaka empire, the PXE, and my own humble company. I am not, however, entirely familiar with their business model or code of ethics, so I cannot guarantee their loyalty. It could be that they are loyal only to their money," the Captain's face darkens, and he puts considerable scorn into the words, "as many weapons manufacturers are. However, as I said, my knowledge of them is incomplete, and you may find them worthy and true allies; if you would have my advice, I advise caution, and covering your own flanks."
*three Wrangler MkIII frigates and one Falcon frigate are dispatched to the SoL, and will arrive before the assault*
PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)- Join date : 2014-06-24
Faction : ICS
Posts : 588
Location : Out of the frying pan and into the fire
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 6:56 am
The two dropships obey and line up behind the PCG fighters. Captain Axal speaks to the pilot and gunners. "Lock on to targets. I don't want any surprises. And charge the gird systems."
A chorus of "Roger sir."s fills the dropship. The orders are transmitted to the second dropship, which also complies.
"Sir, wouldn't the PCG pick up the energy readings from our shields?" inquires a soldier accompanying the captain.
"No. Not if they're fields," he replies. Continuing, he responds, "The HTSG-2's won't be engaged."
The soldier nods in understanding.
Axal wanders to the cockpit of the dropship. "Pilot, send a transmission to Charlie 1."
"Yes sir."
Meanwhile, on the secondary bridge of the Capricorn, the real Captain Axal plays the transmission through.
"We're sitting ducks sir, but we seem to be working."
"Copy that. Arm your weapons as a precaution. Axal out."
The veteran captain nods at a communications officer. "Get me command."
"Yes sir."
***
"We've been able to gather some information of Rator III. But we'll need boots on the ground for some real reconnaissance, preferably MI units. Intel units have arrived at a location that will possibly be suitable for landing, right here, approximately 15 kilometers out. With luck, our "meteors" will do the digging for us. After surveillance, each Taipan will return to the "meteor" crash sit and self-destruct. Only problem is that you will need approval from SoL. However, we are proposing to deploy a cloaked Pisces at 0100. The vessel will drop out of warp on the edge of the system, fire the "meteors", and leave. Data will be transmitted simultaneously, from launch all the way until self-destruct. This information can then be bought...from either side." The figure in the projector paused.
Major General Gkal and Captain Axal both though for several moments. Then Gkal broke the silence and spoke. "When will the surveillance end, sir? We need that information before the other governments move on Rator III."
"Our Taipans can cover ground quickly. We estimate that we can end surveillance within 1600 hours and cover the tunnels and self-destruct by 1700 hours. This will also be an excellent field test for the MI-3's, before actual drop."
Both men onboard the Capricorn nodded in approval. "This will work sir?" questioned Captain Axal.
"Anyone's guess. The sooner, the better."
"Do it."
A chorus of "Roger sir."s fills the dropship. The orders are transmitted to the second dropship, which also complies.
"Sir, wouldn't the PCG pick up the energy readings from our shields?" inquires a soldier accompanying the captain.
"No. Not if they're fields," he replies. Continuing, he responds, "The HTSG-2's won't be engaged."
The soldier nods in understanding.
Axal wanders to the cockpit of the dropship. "Pilot, send a transmission to Charlie 1."
"Yes sir."
Meanwhile, on the secondary bridge of the Capricorn, the real Captain Axal plays the transmission through.
"We're sitting ducks sir, but we seem to be working."
"Copy that. Arm your weapons as a precaution. Axal out."
The veteran captain nods at a communications officer. "Get me command."
"Yes sir."
***
"We've been able to gather some information of Rator III. But we'll need boots on the ground for some real reconnaissance, preferably MI units. Intel units have arrived at a location that will possibly be suitable for landing, right here, approximately 15 kilometers out. With luck, our "meteors" will do the digging for us. After surveillance, each Taipan will return to the "meteor" crash sit and self-destruct. Only problem is that you will need approval from SoL. However, we are proposing to deploy a cloaked Pisces at 0100. The vessel will drop out of warp on the edge of the system, fire the "meteors", and leave. Data will be transmitted simultaneously, from launch all the way until self-destruct. This information can then be bought...from either side." The figure in the projector paused.
Major General Gkal and Captain Axal both though for several moments. Then Gkal broke the silence and spoke. "When will the surveillance end, sir? We need that information before the other governments move on Rator III."
"Our Taipans can cover ground quickly. We estimate that we can end surveillance within 1600 hours and cover the tunnels and self-destruct by 1700 hours. This will also be an excellent field test for the MI-3's, before actual drop."
Both men onboard the Capricorn nodded in approval. "This will work sir?" questioned Captain Axal.
"Anyone's guess. The sooner, the better."
"Do it."
- JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 870
Location : Adventure Comix Studios
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 11:44 am
[OOC] Was that thing about the medicine to me...? XD [End OOC]
"Thank you Captain." Johnnyred replies. "Out of curiosity, how experienced are the crews? I just would like to know so I know how to place them tactically."
"Thank you Captain." Johnnyred replies. "Out of curiosity, how experienced are the crews? I just would like to know so I know how to place them tactically."
- Andre TholvelCEO
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Posts : 381
Location : Aboard the IFS Varda, viewing construction of the next flagship.
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Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 2:22 pm
Candirith gives his best salesman-smile. "I assure you, Captain Johnnyred, our starship crews, combative and noncombative, are of the utmost quality. We hand-pick crew members from all areas of the galaxy, to provide the best mix of species and specialties for each individual product. We literally stake money on every crew member, as they are outfitted with the best equipment and training to ensure quality performance. However, please remember that our crews are held to different rental contracts than our starships; members wounded in battle are to have their medical expenses paid by the customer, and condolence funds are to be provided for the families of the killed, missing, or captured."
"Now, I believe that is settled. Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain? Do you wish to rent any more of our equipment, perhaps some Marines or Commandos?"
"Now, I believe that is settled. Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain? Do you wish to rent any more of our equipment, perhaps some Marines or Commandos?"
- PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)
- Join date : 2014-06-24
Faction : ICS
Posts : 588
Location : Out of the frying pan and into the fire
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 3:05 pm
OOC @J-red: Who were you talking two? Supe and my NPC's are both captains. End OOC
- Andre TholvelCEO
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Posts : 381
Location : Aboard the IFS Varda, viewing construction of the next flagship.
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Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 4:22 pm
[OOC]PXR, I assume he was talking to me, since discussion hasn't begun of troop placement with your group yet. He was asking me how well-trained my crews were, since I just pointed out that my crews would be taking charge of the vessels I'm loaning him.[/OOC]
- JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 870
Location : Adventure Comix Studios
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Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 5:38 pm
[OOC] Yes, I was talking to Supe. [End OOC]
"Thank you, captain. We have an excellent medical corps that will be sure to take good care of your men. For right now I'll stick to the man power we have. However, rest assured that if things get dicier than I expected I shall be in contact with Daragon. Is there anything I can assist you with, sir?"
[End OOC]"Thank you, captain. We have an excellent medical corps that will be sure to take good care of your men. For right now I'll stick to the man power we have. However, rest assured that if things get dicier than I expected I shall be in contact with Daragon. Is there anything I can assist you with, sir?"
- Andre TholvelCEO
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Posts : 381
Location : Aboard the IFS Varda, viewing construction of the next flagship.
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Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Fri Aug 22, 2014 9:01 pm
"No, sir, I thank you. My colleague, Captain Magorinc, will be here to command the task force being sent to you. To ensure that it will be arriving in a safe environment, the Titania will remain here to possibly assist with any trouble you may have with the PXR. That will be all, thank you again." Candirith hangs up, and turns to his First Mate. "Launch both squadrons of starfighters, position PA3, prepare for possible assault from the Phoenix Engineering ships flanking the Sons of Liberty. Comms, contact PD #351 and get their ETA, warn them of potential engagement upon reentry to realspace. Officer of the Deck, you have the conn." A chorus of, "Aye aye, sir!" follows him as he walks quickly from the bridge, already speaking softly into his subdermal radio, two fingers controlling the channels on his belt.
- Dino27Captain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-20
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 1435
Location : P.C.G. York ready room
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 2:30 am
OOC
Supe. I saw the first one on TV. I, like some SW fans with the prequel trilogy, (I am not one of those fans) refuse to consider this J.J. Abrams reboot as canon Trek. I am aware that Trek medicine can cure anything if the plot requires it. In one episode of Voyager, Seven of Nine literally brought Neelix back to life around eight-teen(?) hours after death via Borg assimilated tech. It just bugs me that "for the plot" a patient can come be brought back to life, or die, simply because the story needs that character too. It's like Redshirts and the Stormtrooper effect. It just irks me when things don't go logically just as a plot device.
My point is, leaving the dagger in the General's heart in my last post was... probably a medical mistake, and I don't know (I doubt anyone does) Trek medicine well enough to give a good reason for that error.
Wealthy weapon designing entrepreneurs: This is shaping up to be quite interesting. Just try not to end up shooting your own men with all of your backstabbing, I mean business. Razz
Scare... dun dun DUUUUUN!!! Sorry for the delayed reply. I look forward to learning more!
End OOC
R.R.W. Alth'Indor Sickbay 22:16 Day 2
Vardok turned to nurse Neral.
"Well nurse? This doesn't look good. Care to explain what you were doing in here?" The security detail was still present and armed, and they had sealed the door. Good. Can't have her attacking anyone trying to get away.
But if she did it, why did those two Remans hack the security footage? Or did they? Did they just decide that the situation was under control and leave for their quarters or something, with Neral setting up that fake feed to incriminate them?
I need to know where that virus originated from, and when it was installed. I sure hope it doesn't mess up our systems too badly. I'll have to talk to the tech department after I'm done down here.
We need to clear all this up before we rendezvous with the Son's of Liberty forces. We can't go into battle with a computer virus messing everything up and armed hostiles running around.
Back to questioning the nurse.
She didn't answer immediately, she seemed nervous and apparently deeply upset. She continued to kneel on the floor, facing the dead General whose biobed she was still next to.
She finally answered, slowly and with a great deal of distress in her voice.
"I... I came here to visit with him. I didn't kill him! I knew he was unconscious, but I wanted to see him. I tried to focus on the tournament, to take my mind off of him. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I knew there was nothing I could do for him. But I couldn't just leave him. I had to take care of him. I didn't kill him! Vardok listened intently. This doesn't add up. She's an Imperial nurse, no stranger to death, war, and the passing of patients. But she's acting as if this is a personal friend. That means she knew him. Young nurses are not close friends of Generals.
Something isn't adding up here. Unless she is faking being distraught to cover her crimes. But that seems highly unlikely to me. You don't grow up in the Empire and learn to tell unconvincing lies. And you certainly don't have the skill to hack a computer system only to possibly incriminate yourself by your time of entry. She could've come into sickbay hours ago and just hacked into sickbay's internal sensors before she killed him.
Death is a part of life in the Empire. She's so upset. An Imperial citizen, and an Imperial nurse at that, isn't half this upset over the death of a person they don't know well.
We got her name, rank, and serial number, but we don't have access to Imperial records on minor officers, much less on medical personal; so we just had to take her word for it that she is who she says is. Of course! Her family marking! We may not have it in our database, but maybe we do. Assuming the computers are working, we can see if her last name is the same as the one she gave us or not. It's doubtful that we'll have more intel us her than her family name. But it's worth a look.
"Nurse 'Neral,' show me your family branding." Her eyes widened. She knew that they were on to her deceit. She stood, faced him, and straightened her shoulders, her thin body taut. She spread her feet apart slightly, and raised her chin. She proceeded to pull her right sleeve up to the shoulder.* S'ren studied the marking for a moment, seeing if it was one he knew. It looked familiar.
"Computer, can you identify which family this branding belongs to?" The computer gave off a loud "blee-urp!" before replying.
"Unable to comply. Database is offline due to maintenance. Error. File not found. Error. Firewall has detected a virus. Attempting to purge. Error. Incorrect code. Please input valid request. Error. Attempting to reboot. Attempting to reboot." Vardok shouted over the computer's babbling.
"Cancel request!" The computer chirped for a moment before continuing.
"Coffee: S'ren two-six-zeta. Replicating. No replicator connected. Please connect replicator to continue. Error. Blue is not green. Error. Pi 3.141592653589. Strawberry." S'ren walked over to T'nai's desk and manually shut-off audio via his personal computer. Blast it!
The ship shook and the lights flickered. Someone from the bridge commed Commander S'ren.
"Sir, we've dropped out of warp. Something's wrong with the computer systems. We think it's related to the virus. The Structural Integrity Field isn't working right, and systems are malfunctioning all over the ship. We're still cloaked, sir, shields are online somehow, and the singularity core is stable." Vardok walked into doctor T'nai's office and shut the door.
"Bridge, contact the rest of the fleet and have them wait here. I don't want them stumbling onto friendly forces with some kind of cloak detecting equipment in Imperial space. That would be a recipe for disaster.
And Bridge, is life support stable?" Vardok hoped that it was. Having to evacuate now would make things very difficult.
"Life support is stable, sir. It's on a separate system for cases just like this." Vardok exhaled in relief.
"Anything else, Bridge?"
"No sir."
"Vardok out." He tapped the channel closed and walked back into the medical ward, tapping his comm as he went.
"Technical department." He waited a minute. The tension in the room was almost palpable. "Neral" stood bolt upright, sweat trickling down her brow, appearing from behind the V-shaped cut of hair on her forehead.
His comm crackled to life with a male voice.
"Tech here. This is Taev Aenikh speaking. How may I help you, sir? We're kind of swamped up here. Trying to cut through the virus and get the system running." Vardok was used to such informal replies by his crew. The Republic was a much looser-knit organization than the Empire.
"Yes Mr. Aenikh. You can help me with three things.
First, estimated time to system recovery? Do you think it can be back up and running before... tomorrow.
Second, do you know where the virus was uploaded?
And third, I need access to the ship's database. I need to learn about a family branding. Can you get me that information?" For a moment, all Vardok could hear was the "doot doot ding" of the keyboard's responses to Taev's finger-strokes.
"Did you say 'branding,' sir? Well, Romulans research all kinds of weird stuff. You should see the history I see when they mess up a system and I have to fix it, pardon me sir, no offense intended; it's my job. Speaking of fixing things, that's four questions, sir.
Estimated time to system recovery? About twelve hours oughta' do it. When you get a virus, you get a virus! This one's a doozy! State of the art little monster. Somebody with money and skill spent some time designing that thing. Fortunately for you, I'm better. Will it be ready to go before tomorrow? Well, it's twenty-two-twenty-five-hundred hours, so it'll be around ten-hundred hours tomorrow unless I'm better than I think. Which I usually am. So, no. Tomorrow's gonna come before she's back up and running again.
You got a PADD handy? 'Course you do. There's one right on that medical supply table, four meters away from you. Don't tell anyone I hacked that PADD without its owner's consent, okay?" Vardok picked up the PADD and turned it on. The screen was split between Taev's face and what Vardok assumed was a live picture of his screen.
Taev was a very unusual looking Romulan. He had wavy, fiery-red hair and very pale, freckled skin. I remember reading his file! How could I forget. He's half-Romulan, half human. His father was an Imperial officer, his mother was a human captive. He's a genius, although a bit odd, and very talkative. Nobody can match him with code though. But Taev was talking again.
"Alright. You wanted to know when and where that virus was uploaded? That's easy, in fact, I already know that. You just have to look at those systems that haven't been infected yet to get a timeline together. I'd be happy to walk you through the entire process, but that'd mean more time I wasn't working on getting my baby back to normal.
Okay, so the virus was uploaded from a console in the mess hall. And it finished uploading at twenty-two-oh-two-hundred hours. The virus started by infecting the security and internal sensor systems, but it spread from there. It was specifically designed to target the internal sensors in sickbay and the mess hall first, based on the times that those sensors went down or started giving off old information.
Interesting... the upload was managed the entire time, and the data stick was removed after the upload was completed. Whoever put this virus in my computers was there until the job was done." Commander S'ren thought for a moment. Nurse "Neral" arrived at sickbay at twenty-two-oh-one-hundred hours. That means she couldn't have uploaded that virus personally. Unless she and the Reman guards are working together, she had nothing to do with the virus. Not that that clears her of the murder. But not uploading a computer virus half-way across the ship a minuter later is in her favor as those two events SEEM to coincide. And I believe in relation before coincidence.
"Taev, earlier the computer told me that nurse "Neral" entered sickbay at twenty-two-oh-one-hundred hours, can you confirm that?" Vardok listened to Taev typing for about thirty seconds, watching what he knew was code fly across half of his PADD's screen.
"You bet. Not only can I tell you that she entered sickbay at exactly twenty-two-oh-one-point-zero-four-hundred hours, but I can also tell you exactly what time she left her guest quarters this morning, the time that she walked in and out of the door of the mess hall, and what times she entered and exited the turbolift And if you ask very nicely, I'll even send you a recorded feed of her examining her hair in the reflection made by the turbolift doors.
Sorry, I only have you tied into my main screen, so you can't see everything I can right now. I work on ten screens. It lets me multitask better. But your PADD's screen is too small to handle more than a two-way split screen at once.
Anyways, I use at least one of my screens to watch Romulans. Yes, I watch Romulans for fun. It's really quite entertaining. It's not weird. It's really very informative, as well as just plain fun. For example, Subcommander, sorry, Centurion D'Avek checks his teeth in the turbolift doors, you just stare gloomily at your reflection deep in thought, and Subcommander Nala stares at her waistline in disgust, except when yo-" Vardok interrupted at this point.
"That's quite enough, Mr. Aenikh." Vardok lowered his voice to an irritated mumble, "Why can't my security teams get me half of this information?" He refocused to the task at hand.
"The branding? Can you look up a family branding for me?" The live picture of Taev cracked his knuckles.
"That's not quite as simple as getting to the security feed recordings, door opening records, and turbolift logs, but it's still an Osol Twist** compared to restoring the entire ship's systems.
Yeah, security are idiots, no offense to them... well, a little offense. But if it's not shooting at them with a disruptor, they're clueless.
Yes yes, the brand. You got a picture of it? Oh, it's on the nurse? Just point the screen of your PADD at her arm. That's it... ah-huh... yes....
Now it's just a matter of finding back doors into the database, doing a little system restoring, finding what code is out of place and fixing it... ah-ha... ah-ha... yeah... that ought'a do it. Here we go! It's from the family S'Teveirr. I have no idea who that is... but I assume that means she's from that family? I-" S'ren spoke up.
"Can you look up that family and tell me if anyone in it matches nurse not Neral? Any background on a match would be most useful." As always, Taev was happy to reply.
"Absolutely. I'm already on it. Now you've got me curious.
'Powerful family.' 'Influential.' 'Wealthy.' Hmmm, I like wealthy. Nurse not Neral is meeting more of my criteria for a potential wife all the time... except for the lying about her name part. That's a big fat 'no way.'" Vardok interrupted.
"Can you just see if she matches anyone from that family please?" Taev didn't sound insulted in the least.
"Right, I'm on it. If I get to talking too much, let me know okay? I have a bit of a big mouth.
Hmmm... well, the family S'Teveirr has nineteen twenty to late thirties-something woman. I wonder if any of her cousins are single, as attractive as her, but less deceptive. Right. Rabbit trail. Sorry, Commander
Let me narrow my search parameters a bit. I'll look for members of the S'Teveirr family meeting my previous criteria, that is, female and between twenty and forty years old. But this time, I'm going to narrow the search results by career field. Let's try the medical field. Once this page loads, we should be down to just a few results to look at more closely.
Well. That's a surprise! There's only one member of the S'Teveirr family fitting my listed criteria who's in the medical field. Eviess S'Teveirr.
Now let's be certain that I didn't just miscalculate her age. I'll go back and look for ALL female members of the S'Teveirr family in the medical field. What-do-ya-know? There's only one. Eviess S'Teveirr, nurse, age thirty-two. I'm no expert on family identification, but that's her alright!
Let's find out more about her. She's single. The daughter of Saren and Rhiana S'Teveirr. One of her grandparents was a General. Quite a family! She has three siblings, two brothers and a sister. Her brothers are both Commanders in the navy, as was her father who was KIA. Her older sister is an officer in the Imperial Army.
Now this is very interesting. It's remarkable that we have this much information on her. Must be because of how important her family is. What information we have suggests that she had a falling out with her family. Something about wanting to go to medical school instead of continuing to serve in the military after her mandatory term of duty was over. They wanted her to do what her family had always done, military service. But she left home without their consent and attended medical school anyway. Very interesting. That's about all the intel our database has on her.
Anything else sir. Maybe I could set you up with a holonovel later?" S'ren wasn't in the mood for entertainment.
"Taev, could you get me any records from sickbay after the virus finished uploading? Office door opening, internal senors, medical logs, main doors opening, anything that could tell me who killed the Centurion, or at least who was in here?" For the first time that evening, Taev sounded melancholy.
"Sorry, sir. I'm good, but not that good. This is a top military grade virus. If there's anything left of those records, it'll take a specialized team weeks to dig down deep enough to get to them. I wish I could do more for you. If you'd like, I'll immediately switch over from restoring all systems to trying to recover those particular infected, erased files. It'd mean indefinite delays though." Vardok cringed. I need answers. But I need to get back to the fleet.
"No thank you Mr. Aenikh. I need the entire ship working more than I need those recordings." Taev sounded relieved. It was clear he would rather get "his" ship's software working again than dig through files.
"I'm sorry I can't get those for you. I'll see what I can do about repairing the Alth'Indor's computers.
Well, was there anything else I could do for you Commander?" Vardok answered before Taev could go off on another tangent.
"No, thank you very much! I appreciate all your time." He powered off the PADD before his long-winded techie could invite him to participate in a holodeck program.
"Well nurse Eviess S'Teveirr. You've got some explaining to do." This certainly sheds some new light on things. A falling out with her family. Lying to us. I don't like it. And it should've only taken a third of that time to learn that. I wonder if security has found them yet? No, they'd contact me if they had. Let's see what nurse S'Teveirr has to say for herself.
R.R.W. Alth'Indor Mess Hall 22:10 Day 2
D'Avek tried to remain calm. It had been about three minutes since Vardok had told him that their patient had been murdered, the Reman guards were on the loose, and they're computer systems had been tampered with.
Only he and a few personnel around him had heard the conversation; and he had instructed them to remain silent about it and act like nothing had happened. Vardok has it under control. He's handled worse than this. He wants to keep Commander Nora'dex talking, so I'll try to keep him happy.
He walked over to the Latrunculo table where Veri and Nora'dex were sitting. Veri looked up and smiled at him.
"Welcome Centurion Fvara. Commander Nora'dex was just telling me about his time in the Twelfth Fleet,*** the finest defensive fleet of Rator III." Nora'dex looked the same as he the whole day, terrible. He had dark circles under his green-Romulan-blood-shot eyes. His uniform was spotless, however, likely cleaned and pressed by his Reman guards. Guards who could be killing my Romulans right now. but D'Avek just smiled as Nora'dex spoke.
"I'm sorry you didn't fare better in the tournament. We can't all be champions. Your Centurion Deletham is the most impressive Latrunculo player I have ever seen; I congratulate you for having such a remarkable woman as your shipmate." D'Avek kept smiling as he replied.
"Congratulations, sir, on taking second place in the championship. I wish I was as good a player as you are." Turning to Veri he said.
"Subcommander, may I speak with you in private please?" She was all smiles, as was he, even though both of them knew that the man next to them would gladly kill them if he knew who they really were. D'Avek didn't know and didn't care if Veri knew he was furious with her or not. She would know soon enough.
"Of course, D'Avek. Excuse us please Commander. And thank you for the game."
"Thank you! It is not many Romulans who can beat me at Latrunculo. It was an honor to be beaten by someone so charming as yourself."
They walked outside the room and down the hall a ways before Subcommander D'Avek spoke, loudly and in anger.
"Vah-udt!**** What were you thinking! Our orders were to let Nora'dex win! How dare you go against a direct order!" Veri remained completely calm, even cold, in her response.
"You obviously do not understand strategy. Based on what you have just said, and you're lose at Latrunculo in the first round." But D'Avek wasn't finished with her.
"My understanding of strategy is irrelevant! Commander S'ren's strategy is what's important! And he must be doing something right, because he is a Commander while we're both Subcommanders. You disobeyed a direct order. I should have you thrown in the brig." Veri lifted her chin defiantly, proudly.
"Your Commander is wrong. Plain and simple. You should not coddle a prisoner. You must show them your complete power over them, break them, make them obey you because they have no other option. That, is how you get information from someone who does not want to talk." D'Avek wanted to punch her at those words about his Commander.
"Listen, Deletham. That sounds like a Tal Shiar agent talking. We don't do that. We respect life more than that." And yet, I can't help agree with her that Vardok is too gentle on them. Veri didn't flinch.
"Don't be so naive. I am not speaking about using torture, I am speaking of mental exercises over a prisoner. I used a fraction of many tried and proven techniques on Commander Nora'dex in there. I beat him at a board game, hardly a form of torture. Now is that a Tal Shiar tactic? Defeating your prisoners at Latrunculo? Honestly, we treat the prisoners better than our own crew these days.
And because I defeated him at a simple board game, he felt he had to prove himself to me. So he told me about his time serving in the Twelfth Fleet. 'The finest of four defensive fleets stationed over Rator III itself' he said. That's troop numbers. That's concrete information that we can use in planning our attack. That is the best, and only useful information we have acquired the entire time our precious guests have been aboard, and our lives have been needlessly in danger. I did not go against the overall strategy of Commander S'ren, flawed though it is." D'Avek was more furious than ever.
"Vaed'rae!***** I don't care what your strategy is! You went against orders! Orders are there for a reason! They keep you alive! If you were a member of this crew, you would be in the brig right now. As it is, I will leave it to Vardok to decide what to do with you. And if I heard correctly, he served in the Twelfth Fleet years ago! Your information is outdated!" He shouted as he stormed off back to the mess hall. I just hope Nora'dex hasn't caught on that anything's up.
D'Avek walked back into the tournament. The crew were talking more loudly now as the games had ended. They were packing up the Latrunculo boards and pieces off of the tables and sitting down to eat a late dinner. Nala and Nora'dex were seated at the same table, with the later clearly dominating the conversation. Nora'dex was saying something about his favorite vintages of Romulan Ale. I bet she wants to change THIS subject. Well, maybe I can help to accomplish that.
"Our Centurion Veri is quite the Latrunculo player." Nala looked up and gave a half smile, clearly glad to have a distraction. She quickly helped move the conversation to the new topic.
"Indeed she is. She's a very smart woman, although not very wise sometimes. But she's a good friend." Now it was D'Avek who wanted to see the subject change. Maybe I can learn something useful without upsetting Nora'dex, or worse, letting him know that we're from the Republic.
"Sir, are you originally from Rator III? As Centurion Veri said earlier, you said you served in the prestigious Twelfth Fleet. Finest fleet in the Empire, takes it's crews directly from Rator III, right sir?" Nora'dex lit up at the chance to talk about himself and his career more.
"Yes, I am from Rator III. And I did serve in the grand old Twelfth. Now those were the days! We were admired and respected, as we should be. Not like today, on boarder patrol. You'd think the populous would respect those on the front lines. But alas.
I think that my time in the Twelfth Fleet was my favorite out of my many years of service. And the Twelfth always scored higher than any other unit. Even the three other fleets assigned to guarding the capital. We were Romulans! We knew who we were. We knew what we stood for. We stood for glory, on honor, and victory! Ah. I would like to serve with the Twelfth again, but advancement in there is extremely difficult as only the very best make it there, and they stay for a very long time. So, in order to advance and prove myself in battle, I had to volunteer to serve in one of the lesser units, commanded by the likes of General S'Teveirr."
The general continued to talk for some time, although he didn't reveal anything else useful. Then the ship shook violently and the lights flickered. Looking out the view ports, it was clear that they had dropped out of warp by the lack of debris and particles streaking against the ship's navigational deflector shields.
Nala stood and walked towards the door. D'Avek called out to her.
"Where are you going, Sir?" She turned around just long enough to reply.
"To sickbay! To make sure Vardok is alright!" D'Avek tried to tell her that she could just comm him, but she had already gone, and D'Avek had a room filled with concerned crew members and a frightened Commander Nora'dex he had to calm down. I really hope we're not under attack or something. No, we're still at silent red alert. We'd go to full red alert if we were under attack. Let Vardok handle this. I've got my own problems.
OOC
* I actually have no idea where a Romulan family branding is located on a body as Memory Beta doesn't say. But the arm seemed like a reasonable place.
** Osol Twist = a tart Romulan desert.
*** the Twelfth Fleet is a unit I made up on the spot.
**** Vah-udt = "what rank?" As in, "just who do you think you are?"
***** Vaed'rae = "You will listen to me!"
End OOC
Supe. I saw the first one on TV. I, like some SW fans with the prequel trilogy, (I am not one of those fans) refuse to consider this J.J. Abrams reboot as canon Trek.
I am aware that Trek medicine can cure anything if the plot requires it. In one episode of Voyager, Seven of Nine literally brought Neelix back to life around eight-teen(?) hours after death via Borg assimilated tech. It just bugs me that "for the plot" a patient can come be brought back to life, or die, simply because the story needs that character too. It's like Redshirts and the Stormtrooper effect. It just irks me when things don't go logically just as a plot device. My point is, leaving the dagger in the General's heart in my last post was... probably a medical mistake, and I don't know (I doubt anyone does) Trek medicine well enough to give a good reason for that error.
Wealthy weapon designing entrepreneurs: This is shaping up to be quite interesting. Just try not to end up shooting your own men with all of your backstabbing, I mean business. Razz
Scare... dun dun DUUUUUN!!! Sorry for the delayed reply. I look forward to learning more!
End OOC
R.R.W. Alth'Indor Sickbay 22:16 Day 2
Vardok turned to nurse Neral.
"Well nurse? This doesn't look good. Care to explain what you were doing in here?" The security detail was still present and armed, and they had sealed the door. Good. Can't have her attacking anyone trying to get away.
But if she did it, why did those two Remans hack the security footage? Or did they? Did they just decide that the situation was under control and leave for their quarters or something, with Neral setting up that fake feed to incriminate them?
I need to know where that virus originated from, and when it was installed. I sure hope it doesn't mess up our systems too badly. I'll have to talk to the tech department after I'm done down here.
We need to clear all this up before we rendezvous with the Son's of Liberty forces. We can't go into battle with a computer virus messing everything up and armed hostiles running around.
Back to questioning the nurse.
She didn't answer immediately, she seemed nervous and apparently deeply upset. She continued to kneel on the floor, facing the dead General whose biobed she was still next to.
She finally answered, slowly and with a great deal of distress in her voice.
"I... I came here to visit with him. I didn't kill him! I knew he was unconscious, but I wanted to see him. I tried to focus on the tournament, to take my mind off of him. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I knew there was nothing I could do for him. But I couldn't just leave him. I had to take care of him. I didn't kill him! Vardok listened intently. This doesn't add up. She's an Imperial nurse, no stranger to death, war, and the passing of patients. But she's acting as if this is a personal friend. That means she knew him. Young nurses are not close friends of Generals.
Something isn't adding up here. Unless she is faking being distraught to cover her crimes. But that seems highly unlikely to me. You don't grow up in the Empire and learn to tell unconvincing lies. And you certainly don't have the skill to hack a computer system only to possibly incriminate yourself by your time of entry. She could've come into sickbay hours ago and just hacked into sickbay's internal sensors before she killed him.
Death is a part of life in the Empire. She's so upset. An Imperial citizen, and an Imperial nurse at that, isn't half this upset over the death of a person they don't know well.
We got her name, rank, and serial number, but we don't have access to Imperial records on minor officers, much less on medical personal; so we just had to take her word for it that she is who she says is. Of course! Her family marking! We may not have it in our database, but maybe we do. Assuming the computers are working, we can see if her last name is the same as the one she gave us or not. It's doubtful that we'll have more intel us her than her family name. But it's worth a look.
"Nurse 'Neral,' show me your family branding." Her eyes widened. She knew that they were on to her deceit. She stood, faced him, and straightened her shoulders, her thin body taut. She spread her feet apart slightly, and raised her chin. She proceeded to pull her right sleeve up to the shoulder.* S'ren studied the marking for a moment, seeing if it was one he knew. It looked familiar.
"Computer, can you identify which family this branding belongs to?" The computer gave off a loud "blee-urp!" before replying.
"Unable to comply. Database is offline due to maintenance. Error. File not found. Error. Firewall has detected a virus. Attempting to purge. Error. Incorrect code. Please input valid request. Error. Attempting to reboot. Attempting to reboot." Vardok shouted over the computer's babbling.
"Cancel request!" The computer chirped for a moment before continuing.
"Coffee: S'ren two-six-zeta. Replicating. No replicator connected. Please connect replicator to continue. Error. Blue is not green. Error. Pi 3.141592653589. Strawberry." S'ren walked over to T'nai's desk and manually shut-off audio via his personal computer. Blast it!
The ship shook and the lights flickered. Someone from the bridge commed Commander S'ren.
"Sir, we've dropped out of warp. Something's wrong with the computer systems. We think it's related to the virus. The Structural Integrity Field isn't working right, and systems are malfunctioning all over the ship. We're still cloaked, sir, shields are online somehow, and the singularity core is stable." Vardok walked into doctor T'nai's office and shut the door.
"Bridge, contact the rest of the fleet and have them wait here. I don't want them stumbling onto friendly forces with some kind of cloak detecting equipment in Imperial space. That would be a recipe for disaster.
And Bridge, is life support stable?" Vardok hoped that it was. Having to evacuate now would make things very difficult.
"Life support is stable, sir. It's on a separate system for cases just like this." Vardok exhaled in relief.
"Anything else, Bridge?"
"No sir."
"Vardok out." He tapped the channel closed and walked back into the medical ward, tapping his comm as he went.
"Technical department." He waited a minute. The tension in the room was almost palpable. "Neral" stood bolt upright, sweat trickling down her brow, appearing from behind the V-shaped cut of hair on her forehead.
His comm crackled to life with a male voice.
"Tech here. This is Taev Aenikh speaking. How may I help you, sir? We're kind of swamped up here. Trying to cut through the virus and get the system running." Vardok was used to such informal replies by his crew. The Republic was a much looser-knit organization than the Empire.
"Yes Mr. Aenikh. You can help me with three things.
First, estimated time to system recovery? Do you think it can be back up and running before... tomorrow.
Second, do you know where the virus was uploaded?
And third, I need access to the ship's database. I need to learn about a family branding. Can you get me that information?" For a moment, all Vardok could hear was the "doot doot ding" of the keyboard's responses to Taev's finger-strokes.
"Did you say 'branding,' sir? Well, Romulans research all kinds of weird stuff. You should see the history I see when they mess up a system and I have to fix it, pardon me sir, no offense intended; it's my job. Speaking of fixing things, that's four questions, sir.
Estimated time to system recovery? About twelve hours oughta' do it. When you get a virus, you get a virus! This one's a doozy! State of the art little monster. Somebody with money and skill spent some time designing that thing. Fortunately for you, I'm better. Will it be ready to go before tomorrow? Well, it's twenty-two-twenty-five-hundred hours, so it'll be around ten-hundred hours tomorrow unless I'm better than I think. Which I usually am. So, no. Tomorrow's gonna come before she's back up and running again.
You got a PADD handy? 'Course you do. There's one right on that medical supply table, four meters away from you. Don't tell anyone I hacked that PADD without its owner's consent, okay?" Vardok picked up the PADD and turned it on. The screen was split between Taev's face and what Vardok assumed was a live picture of his screen.
Taev was a very unusual looking Romulan. He had wavy, fiery-red hair and very pale, freckled skin. I remember reading his file! How could I forget. He's half-Romulan, half human. His father was an Imperial officer, his mother was a human captive. He's a genius, although a bit odd, and very talkative. Nobody can match him with code though. But Taev was talking again.
"Alright. You wanted to know when and where that virus was uploaded? That's easy, in fact, I already know that. You just have to look at those systems that haven't been infected yet to get a timeline together. I'd be happy to walk you through the entire process, but that'd mean more time I wasn't working on getting my baby back to normal.
Okay, so the virus was uploaded from a console in the mess hall. And it finished uploading at twenty-two-oh-two-hundred hours. The virus started by infecting the security and internal sensor systems, but it spread from there. It was specifically designed to target the internal sensors in sickbay and the mess hall first, based on the times that those sensors went down or started giving off old information.
Interesting... the upload was managed the entire time, and the data stick was removed after the upload was completed. Whoever put this virus in my computers was there until the job was done." Commander S'ren thought for a moment. Nurse "Neral" arrived at sickbay at twenty-two-oh-one-hundred hours. That means she couldn't have uploaded that virus personally. Unless she and the Reman guards are working together, she had nothing to do with the virus. Not that that clears her of the murder. But not uploading a computer virus half-way across the ship a minuter later is in her favor as those two events SEEM to coincide. And I believe in relation before coincidence.
"Taev, earlier the computer told me that nurse "Neral" entered sickbay at twenty-two-oh-one-hundred hours, can you confirm that?" Vardok listened to Taev typing for about thirty seconds, watching what he knew was code fly across half of his PADD's screen.
"You bet. Not only can I tell you that she entered sickbay at exactly twenty-two-oh-one-point-zero-four-hundred hours, but I can also tell you exactly what time she left her guest quarters this morning, the time that she walked in and out of the door of the mess hall, and what times she entered and exited the turbolift And if you ask very nicely, I'll even send you a recorded feed of her examining her hair in the reflection made by the turbolift doors.
Sorry, I only have you tied into my main screen, so you can't see everything I can right now. I work on ten screens. It lets me multitask better. But your PADD's screen is too small to handle more than a two-way split screen at once.
Anyways, I use at least one of my screens to watch Romulans. Yes, I watch Romulans for fun. It's really quite entertaining. It's not weird. It's really very informative, as well as just plain fun. For example, Subcommander, sorry, Centurion D'Avek checks his teeth in the turbolift doors, you just stare gloomily at your reflection deep in thought, and Subcommander Nala stares at her waistline in disgust, except when yo-" Vardok interrupted at this point.
"That's quite enough, Mr. Aenikh." Vardok lowered his voice to an irritated mumble, "Why can't my security teams get me half of this information?" He refocused to the task at hand.
"The branding? Can you look up a family branding for me?" The live picture of Taev cracked his knuckles.
"That's not quite as simple as getting to the security feed recordings, door opening records, and turbolift logs, but it's still an Osol Twist** compared to restoring the entire ship's systems.
Yeah, security are idiots, no offense to them... well, a little offense. But if it's not shooting at them with a disruptor, they're clueless.
Yes yes, the brand. You got a picture of it? Oh, it's on the nurse? Just point the screen of your PADD at her arm. That's it... ah-huh... yes....
Now it's just a matter of finding back doors into the database, doing a little system restoring, finding what code is out of place and fixing it... ah-ha... ah-ha... yeah... that ought'a do it. Here we go! It's from the family S'Teveirr. I have no idea who that is... but I assume that means she's from that family? I-" S'ren spoke up.
"Can you look up that family and tell me if anyone in it matches nurse not Neral? Any background on a match would be most useful." As always, Taev was happy to reply.
"Absolutely. I'm already on it. Now you've got me curious.
'Powerful family.' 'Influential.' 'Wealthy.' Hmmm, I like wealthy. Nurse not Neral is meeting more of my criteria for a potential wife all the time... except for the lying about her name part. That's a big fat 'no way.'" Vardok interrupted.
"Can you just see if she matches anyone from that family please?" Taev didn't sound insulted in the least.
"Right, I'm on it. If I get to talking too much, let me know okay? I have a bit of a big mouth.
Hmmm... well, the family S'Teveirr has nineteen twenty to late thirties-something woman. I wonder if any of her cousins are single, as attractive as her, but less deceptive. Right. Rabbit trail. Sorry, Commander
Let me narrow my search parameters a bit. I'll look for members of the S'Teveirr family meeting my previous criteria, that is, female and between twenty and forty years old. But this time, I'm going to narrow the search results by career field. Let's try the medical field. Once this page loads, we should be down to just a few results to look at more closely.
Well. That's a surprise! There's only one member of the S'Teveirr family fitting my listed criteria who's in the medical field. Eviess S'Teveirr.
Now let's be certain that I didn't just miscalculate her age. I'll go back and look for ALL female members of the S'Teveirr family in the medical field. What-do-ya-know? There's only one. Eviess S'Teveirr, nurse, age thirty-two. I'm no expert on family identification, but that's her alright!
Let's find out more about her. She's single. The daughter of Saren and Rhiana S'Teveirr. One of her grandparents was a General. Quite a family! She has three siblings, two brothers and a sister. Her brothers are both Commanders in the navy, as was her father who was KIA. Her older sister is an officer in the Imperial Army.
Now this is very interesting. It's remarkable that we have this much information on her. Must be because of how important her family is. What information we have suggests that she had a falling out with her family. Something about wanting to go to medical school instead of continuing to serve in the military after her mandatory term of duty was over. They wanted her to do what her family had always done, military service. But she left home without their consent and attended medical school anyway. Very interesting. That's about all the intel our database has on her.
Anything else sir. Maybe I could set you up with a holonovel later?" S'ren wasn't in the mood for entertainment.
"Taev, could you get me any records from sickbay after the virus finished uploading? Office door opening, internal senors, medical logs, main doors opening, anything that could tell me who killed the Centurion, or at least who was in here?" For the first time that evening, Taev sounded melancholy.
"Sorry, sir. I'm good, but not that good. This is a top military grade virus. If there's anything left of those records, it'll take a specialized team weeks to dig down deep enough to get to them. I wish I could do more for you. If you'd like, I'll immediately switch over from restoring all systems to trying to recover those particular infected, erased files. It'd mean indefinite delays though." Vardok cringed. I need answers. But I need to get back to the fleet.
"No thank you Mr. Aenikh. I need the entire ship working more than I need those recordings." Taev sounded relieved. It was clear he would rather get "his" ship's software working again than dig through files.
"I'm sorry I can't get those for you. I'll see what I can do about repairing the Alth'Indor's computers.
Well, was there anything else I could do for you Commander?" Vardok answered before Taev could go off on another tangent.
"No, thank you very much! I appreciate all your time." He powered off the PADD before his long-winded techie could invite him to participate in a holodeck program.
"Well nurse Eviess S'Teveirr. You've got some explaining to do." This certainly sheds some new light on things. A falling out with her family. Lying to us. I don't like it. And it should've only taken a third of that time to learn that. I wonder if security has found them yet? No, they'd contact me if they had. Let's see what nurse S'Teveirr has to say for herself.
R.R.W. Alth'Indor Mess Hall 22:10 Day 2
D'Avek tried to remain calm. It had been about three minutes since Vardok had told him that their patient had been murdered, the Reman guards were on the loose, and they're computer systems had been tampered with.
Only he and a few personnel around him had heard the conversation; and he had instructed them to remain silent about it and act like nothing had happened. Vardok has it under control. He's handled worse than this. He wants to keep Commander Nora'dex talking, so I'll try to keep him happy.
He walked over to the Latrunculo table where Veri and Nora'dex were sitting. Veri looked up and smiled at him.
"Welcome Centurion Fvara. Commander Nora'dex was just telling me about his time in the Twelfth Fleet,*** the finest defensive fleet of Rator III." Nora'dex looked the same as he the whole day, terrible. He had dark circles under his green-Romulan-blood-shot eyes. His uniform was spotless, however, likely cleaned and pressed by his Reman guards. Guards who could be killing my Romulans right now. but D'Avek just smiled as Nora'dex spoke.
"I'm sorry you didn't fare better in the tournament. We can't all be champions. Your Centurion Deletham is the most impressive Latrunculo player I have ever seen; I congratulate you for having such a remarkable woman as your shipmate." D'Avek kept smiling as he replied.
"Congratulations, sir, on taking second place in the championship. I wish I was as good a player as you are." Turning to Veri he said.
"Subcommander, may I speak with you in private please?" She was all smiles, as was he, even though both of them knew that the man next to them would gladly kill them if he knew who they really were. D'Avek didn't know and didn't care if Veri knew he was furious with her or not. She would know soon enough.
"Of course, D'Avek. Excuse us please Commander. And thank you for the game."
"Thank you! It is not many Romulans who can beat me at Latrunculo. It was an honor to be beaten by someone so charming as yourself."
They walked outside the room and down the hall a ways before Subcommander D'Avek spoke, loudly and in anger.
"Vah-udt!**** What were you thinking! Our orders were to let Nora'dex win! How dare you go against a direct order!" Veri remained completely calm, even cold, in her response.
"You obviously do not understand strategy. Based on what you have just said, and you're lose at Latrunculo in the first round." But D'Avek wasn't finished with her.
"My understanding of strategy is irrelevant! Commander S'ren's strategy is what's important! And he must be doing something right, because he is a Commander while we're both Subcommanders. You disobeyed a direct order. I should have you thrown in the brig." Veri lifted her chin defiantly, proudly.
"Your Commander is wrong. Plain and simple. You should not coddle a prisoner. You must show them your complete power over them, break them, make them obey you because they have no other option. That, is how you get information from someone who does not want to talk." D'Avek wanted to punch her at those words about his Commander.
"Listen, Deletham. That sounds like a Tal Shiar agent talking. We don't do that. We respect life more than that." And yet, I can't help agree with her that Vardok is too gentle on them. Veri didn't flinch.
"Don't be so naive. I am not speaking about using torture, I am speaking of mental exercises over a prisoner. I used a fraction of many tried and proven techniques on Commander Nora'dex in there. I beat him at a board game, hardly a form of torture. Now is that a Tal Shiar tactic? Defeating your prisoners at Latrunculo? Honestly, we treat the prisoners better than our own crew these days.
And because I defeated him at a simple board game, he felt he had to prove himself to me. So he told me about his time serving in the Twelfth Fleet. 'The finest of four defensive fleets stationed over Rator III itself' he said. That's troop numbers. That's concrete information that we can use in planning our attack. That is the best, and only useful information we have acquired the entire time our precious guests have been aboard, and our lives have been needlessly in danger. I did not go against the overall strategy of Commander S'ren, flawed though it is." D'Avek was more furious than ever.
"Vaed'rae!***** I don't care what your strategy is! You went against orders! Orders are there for a reason! They keep you alive! If you were a member of this crew, you would be in the brig right now. As it is, I will leave it to Vardok to decide what to do with you. And if I heard correctly, he served in the Twelfth Fleet years ago! Your information is outdated!" He shouted as he stormed off back to the mess hall. I just hope Nora'dex hasn't caught on that anything's up.
D'Avek walked back into the tournament. The crew were talking more loudly now as the games had ended. They were packing up the Latrunculo boards and pieces off of the tables and sitting down to eat a late dinner. Nala and Nora'dex were seated at the same table, with the later clearly dominating the conversation. Nora'dex was saying something about his favorite vintages of Romulan Ale. I bet she wants to change THIS subject. Well, maybe I can help to accomplish that.
"Our Centurion Veri is quite the Latrunculo player." Nala looked up and gave a half smile, clearly glad to have a distraction. She quickly helped move the conversation to the new topic.
"Indeed she is. She's a very smart woman, although not very wise sometimes. But she's a good friend." Now it was D'Avek who wanted to see the subject change. Maybe I can learn something useful without upsetting Nora'dex, or worse, letting him know that we're from the Republic.
"Sir, are you originally from Rator III? As Centurion Veri said earlier, you said you served in the prestigious Twelfth Fleet. Finest fleet in the Empire, takes it's crews directly from Rator III, right sir?" Nora'dex lit up at the chance to talk about himself and his career more.
"Yes, I am from Rator III. And I did serve in the grand old Twelfth. Now those were the days! We were admired and respected, as we should be. Not like today, on boarder patrol. You'd think the populous would respect those on the front lines. But alas.
I think that my time in the Twelfth Fleet was my favorite out of my many years of service. And the Twelfth always scored higher than any other unit. Even the three other fleets assigned to guarding the capital. We were Romulans! We knew who we were. We knew what we stood for. We stood for glory, on honor, and victory! Ah. I would like to serve with the Twelfth again, but advancement in there is extremely difficult as only the very best make it there, and they stay for a very long time. So, in order to advance and prove myself in battle, I had to volunteer to serve in one of the lesser units, commanded by the likes of General S'Teveirr."
The general continued to talk for some time, although he didn't reveal anything else useful. Then the ship shook violently and the lights flickered. Looking out the view ports, it was clear that they had dropped out of warp by the lack of debris and particles streaking against the ship's navigational deflector shields.
Nala stood and walked towards the door. D'Avek called out to her.
"Where are you going, Sir?" She turned around just long enough to reply.
"To sickbay! To make sure Vardok is alright!" D'Avek tried to tell her that she could just comm him, but she had already gone, and D'Avek had a room filled with concerned crew members and a frightened Commander Nora'dex he had to calm down. I really hope we're not under attack or something. No, we're still at silent red alert. We'd go to full red alert if we were under attack. Let Vardok handle this. I've got my own problems.
OOC
* I actually have no idea where a Romulan family branding is located on a body as Memory Beta doesn't say. But the arm seemed like a reasonable place.
** Osol Twist = a tart Romulan desert.
*** the Twelfth Fleet is a unit I made up on the spot.
**** Vah-udt = "what rank?" As in, "just who do you think you are?"
***** Vaed'rae = "You will listen to me!"
End OOC
- JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 870
Location : Adventure Comix Studios
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 3:18 am
[OOC] ACTUALLY. The new ST series is canon... however, it is being considered as a separate universe and not Prime ST Universe. Ergo, it is canon only to the alternate universe that was created by Nero and Spock traveling in time. PCG is in an ST universe that is almost identical (but not quite) to the Prime universe. (And unless it conflicts with anyone's storyline, I'd prefer to keep Romulus intact and have the Federation at an uneasy alliance with the Federation. Or whatever. I got behind on Dino's storyline when I was at college, so I'm not sure what standing the Romulans have with the PCG/Federation. [End OOC]
- PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)
- Join date : 2014-06-24
Faction : ICS
Posts : 588
Location : Out of the frying pan and into the fire
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 7:48 am
"Captain Axal, the DI ships have repositioned their ships! They're deploying fighters!"
"This is Captain Axal, Code Yellow, all hands to battlestations. Prepare for possible engagement. All Papa 1's, Code Red."
Switching off of the integrated fleet communication systems, he turned to the crew on his own ship. "Rotate all Beta 2 cannons to Target Foxtrot 1. All Beta 3 and 4 cannons, focus on Target Whiskey 3."
Immediately, all of the PXS Capricorn's Beta cannons rotated to face the DI warships. Additionally, 7 squadrons of Phoenix advanced fighters and 2 squadrons of Shrike heavy bombers were ejected out of the ship's hangar bays. They circled around the Capricorn steadily.
Similar maneuvers were repeated throughout the 73rd Fleet, as hundreds of assorted fighter squadrons swarm between the PXE warships.
"Sir, all ships are in position. We are ready to engage. Your orders?"
"All ships, do not engage, repeat, all ships, do not engage. Code Yellow, stay on standby. If the DI ships make another move, we will engage. Captain Axal, out."
Axal turned around and searched for Gkal. Finally finding the major general, he inquired, "Are the boarding parties ready?"
"Yes sir. They can be deployed whenever needed."
Axal nodded in satisfaction and paced towards the intel bridge as quickly as his genetically-engineered legs could carry him.
"This is Captain Axal of the 73rd Fleet to Command, over."
"Copy that, this is Commander Barzok of the 77th Fleet, over. What is your position and status?"
Axal nodded towards an officer nearby, who then transmitted their current coordinates. "Daragon Incorporated has deployed fighters and is currently repositioning their ships. We believe that the DI is preparing to engage us, along with other SoL ships. We are heavily outnumbered and pinned down. I am requesting immediate reinforcements."
"Sir, I have all ships engaged. PXE is reporting a massive Mukaran assault coming from the north. Heavy fleet and fighter losses near the north in Quadrant I. Kalla is under siege. Olarth and Kahi Point lost. Intel is completely occupied. We have no reinforcements on standby, over."
Axal thought for a moment. "Sir, the Mukara were completely eradicated by the M-3 virus a decade ago during the Third Battle at Kalla. This is impossible."
"Negative, Intel has confirmed that this is a mutation of the original Mukara. Deployment of M-3 reserves has been completely ineffective, over. Command has requested that you redirect the 73rd Fleet back to Quadrant 4 on standby and withdraw from the Sons of Liberty over."
Axal weighed his options in his head. "Ignore him, give him the affirmative, disobey orders, cut the transmission, play his innocence, etc. In the end, cut the transmission won out.
The nearby officers did not express any change of emotions, but Axal knew that all of those who had observed the transmission were worried.
"I want a Code Alpha One transmitted to Intel Command. Get a Code Alpha Seven transmission to Port Omaha."
The immediate ordeal over, he returned to the forward bridge. The DI ships were frozen in place, apparently waiting for their own orders, and possibly reinforcements. But Axal's mind was no longer on the possible skirmish at hand, but the war that was now going on at home.
His home....
"This is Captain Axal, Code Yellow, all hands to battlestations. Prepare for possible engagement. All Papa 1's, Code Red."
Switching off of the integrated fleet communication systems, he turned to the crew on his own ship. "Rotate all Beta 2 cannons to Target Foxtrot 1. All Beta 3 and 4 cannons, focus on Target Whiskey 3."
Immediately, all of the PXS Capricorn's Beta cannons rotated to face the DI warships. Additionally, 7 squadrons of Phoenix advanced fighters and 2 squadrons of Shrike heavy bombers were ejected out of the ship's hangar bays. They circled around the Capricorn steadily.
Similar maneuvers were repeated throughout the 73rd Fleet, as hundreds of assorted fighter squadrons swarm between the PXE warships.
"Sir, all ships are in position. We are ready to engage. Your orders?"
"All ships, do not engage, repeat, all ships, do not engage. Code Yellow, stay on standby. If the DI ships make another move, we will engage. Captain Axal, out."
Axal turned around and searched for Gkal. Finally finding the major general, he inquired, "Are the boarding parties ready?"
"Yes sir. They can be deployed whenever needed."
Axal nodded in satisfaction and paced towards the intel bridge as quickly as his genetically-engineered legs could carry him.
"This is Captain Axal of the 73rd Fleet to Command, over."
"Copy that, this is Commander Barzok of the 77th Fleet, over. What is your position and status?"
Axal nodded towards an officer nearby, who then transmitted their current coordinates. "Daragon Incorporated has deployed fighters and is currently repositioning their ships. We believe that the DI is preparing to engage us, along with other SoL ships. We are heavily outnumbered and pinned down. I am requesting immediate reinforcements."
"Sir, I have all ships engaged. PXE is reporting a massive Mukaran assault coming from the north. Heavy fleet and fighter losses near the north in Quadrant I. Kalla is under siege. Olarth and Kahi Point lost. Intel is completely occupied. We have no reinforcements on standby, over."
Axal thought for a moment. "Sir, the Mukara were completely eradicated by the M-3 virus a decade ago during the Third Battle at Kalla. This is impossible."
"Negative, Intel has confirmed that this is a mutation of the original Mukara. Deployment of M-3 reserves has been completely ineffective, over. Command has requested that you redirect the 73rd Fleet back to Quadrant 4 on standby and withdraw from the Sons of Liberty over."
Axal weighed his options in his head. "Ignore him, give him the affirmative, disobey orders, cut the transmission, play his innocence, etc. In the end, cut the transmission won out.
The nearby officers did not express any change of emotions, but Axal knew that all of those who had observed the transmission were worried.
"I want a Code Alpha One transmitted to Intel Command. Get a Code Alpha Seven transmission to Port Omaha."
The immediate ordeal over, he returned to the forward bridge. The DI ships were frozen in place, apparently waiting for their own orders, and possibly reinforcements. But Axal's mind was no longer on the possible skirmish at hand, but the war that was now going on at home.
His home....
- JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 870
Location : Adventure Comix Studios
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 1:09 pm
"Captain, we've got contact!" Locke yells through his comms unit to the Arondite. "The PXE ships have rotated weapons to face the DI ships and we've got fighter launch. However, I believe that the PXE is acting in response to the DI powering up their weapons."
"Blast it all!" Johnnyred yells, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair. "Stu, give me full control of the ship, Bob, open a comm link to the DI and PXE."
Utilizing the controls on his command chair, Johnnyred deftly warps the Arondite between the two fleets.
"Stand by weapons systems, but do NOT power them up. All fighters remain on standby launch. Red Daggers remain in escort formation with the PXE ships, but keep your eyes on them.
ATTENTION. PXE and DI ships. Power your weapons systems down. NOW. You are in friendly airspace. PXE fighters, return to your ships. PXE transport ships please re-direct your ships to a flight vector to the Arondite. The commander of the DI ships on loan to the PCG will also be coming aboard our ship. We can settle any differences there. But we don't have time for a shoot out right now. The Federation is at stake here."
"Blast it all!" Johnnyred yells, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair. "Stu, give me full control of the ship, Bob, open a comm link to the DI and PXE."
Utilizing the controls on his command chair, Johnnyred deftly warps the Arondite between the two fleets.
"Stand by weapons systems, but do NOT power them up. All fighters remain on standby launch. Red Daggers remain in escort formation with the PXE ships, but keep your eyes on them.
ATTENTION. PXE and DI ships. Power your weapons systems down. NOW. You are in friendly airspace. PXE fighters, return to your ships. PXE transport ships please re-direct your ships to a flight vector to the Arondite. The commander of the DI ships on loan to the PCG will also be coming aboard our ship. We can settle any differences there. But we don't have time for a shoot out right now. The Federation is at stake here."
- PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)
- Join date : 2014-06-24
Faction : ICS
Posts : 588
Location : Out of the frying pan and into the fire
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 1:23 pm
OOC: This section might seem unconnected, but it will find itself back to SoL, I promise you. Also, I'd put one part in this section at a PG-13, so just a heads-up. End OOC
Quadrant I, near Kahi Point
“This is Kilo 2, Decks 4 and 5 have been toasted! The Mukara have made it to the secondary bridge!”
“Mayday, mayday, this is Tango 5, MCEG has been damaged. Magnetic field disabled. Expect high antimatter explosion, all ships clear!” The helpless Taurus Class Battlecruiser detonated, throwing massive pieces of the warship into the nearby PXE starships.
“This is ridiculous. We’ve lost two fleets in a single rotation. If we can’t stop these boarding parties, casualty rates will continue rising exponentially.”
“Sir, I have a report from Quadrant IV.”
Admiral Kamay read the report. “The 73rd Fleet has not withdrawn. A Code Alpha Seven. Get me Captain Axal immediately.” He swore in his head. ”What’s going on over there?”
“Yes sir.”
Meanwhile, back on the PXS Capricorn
Axal paced the bridge, attracting some suspicious and questioning looks from the other crew members. The PXE’s fighters continued circling the fleet, prepared for a possible DI attack. Several kilometers away, the DI warships had paused, most likely awaiting orders or reinforcements. And yet, the PXE would be receiving no support anytime soon.
Suddenly, a signal immediately chimed out, distinguishing a transmission. ”Ugh, what now? Reinforcements hopefully?” But a communications officer contradicted his hopes. “Captain, it’s Admiral Kamay of the 5th Fleet. It’s a Code 2 transmission. He’s transmitting from Port Zulu. Must be the Mukara.”
“Put him through.” The command tower of Zulu appeared on the projector of the bridge.
“Captain Axal.”
“Admiral, sir.” The captain politely saluted.
“Captain, you were requested to return to PXE space at 0300 hours yesterday by Commander Barzok at Port Omaha. You cut the transmission. Why?”
“Sir, with all due respect, you have no command over the 73rd Fleet. The 73rd Fleet is commanded exclusively by myself and Major General Gkal,” Axal said, nodding to the figure to his right. “Our orders were directly from Intel Command. We are to continue aiding the Sons of Liberty until further notice. Issued at 0230 hours yesterday, before Barzok’s transmission, sir.”
The admiral was silent for a moment, most likely glaring intently at Captain Axal behind his visor. But a huge “BOOM” distracted him.
“Admiral, what was that?”
But the admiral ignored Axal. On the other side of the projector, he barked out orders. “I want Zulu Platoon 3 and 5 split between the starboard hangar bays. Hold out as long as you can before breaking out the spewers. All Intel and bridge officers, to the Delta hangar bank.”
“Admiral, I repeat, what’s going on over there? Why are you abandoning the station?”
The admiral lost his normally gruff and commanding voice. He seemed to shrink as he muttered, “The Mukara are boarding the station. They’ve reached the hangar bays and are breaking through our defenses. The 5th and 97th Fleets are lost. Kahi Point can’t hold. We’re abandoning-”
Captain Axal cut him off. “Behind you!” he screamed as loud as he could, alerting the rest of the Capricorn’s bridge crew. But he ignored them, staring in horror.
The admiral quickly rotated around, producing his dagger as he did so. But it was too late. A Mukara shot its head towards the admiral, biting his hand off, leaving a bloody stump and the hand hanging limp in the Mukara’s jaws. It promptly bit down, producing a grotesque chomping sound, the same sound of tearing flesh and shriveling bone.
Axal stared in horror. “Admiral!” But the generated image of Admiral Kamay fell down, out of sight of the projector. The Mukara twisted its heads, clicking its jaws together, still covered in dripping blood. It looked down at the mutilated form of Admiral Kamay, before plunging itself headfirst straight at his stomach. The projection went blank before being cut off.
Gkal, still behind Axal, looked around at the bridge crew. No one needed an explanation. They were all veterans of the brutal war nearly a decade ago, against the same enemy, with the same desperation.
Axal clasped his hands together, and stalked off the bridge, leaving the Gkal and the other officers to repeat the image in their heads alone.
But almost immediately, an officer called Captain Axal back to the bridge. "What's going on?" Axal seemed perfectly calm, despite the ordeal that had occurred only several seconds before.
"Captain Johnnyred of the Phoenix Command Group has moved the Arondite between our fleets. He is ordering us to power down our weapon systems. Should we comply?"
"What of the DI ships? Have they?"
"Negative captain, but they are not appearing to move their vessels."
"Affirmative. Reduce energy spikes. Keep the weapons charging but not ready to fire. Raise magnetic output intensity of the DSG's by mark .5. I'm not taking any chances."
"What of the fighters, captain? Should we withdraw them as well?"
Axal stood for a moment, calculating his chances. If we engage the DI forces, the PCG will most likely ally with them as well...we'll be outnumbered... "Affirmative. Withdraw all fighter squadrons. Keep all ships and fighters at a Code Yellow." Turning to Major General Gkal, he said, "Keep your boarding parties on a Code Yellow as well."
The major general nodded and exited the bridge. The large horde of PXE fighters vanished back into their respective warships within minutes. Axal queued the communications officer.
"Captain Johnnyred, we have now powered our weapons down. All fighter squadrons have returned to the fleet. We await the DI's response sir. Captain Axal out."
OOC: Btw, I am aware that there is not much sentiment, exclaiming, shouting, and other highly emotional expressions from PXE personnel. This is mostly due to the desensitization they undergo at birth. Therefore, PXE troops have little to no emotion in any events, including deaths, problems, etc. End OOC
Also, I'd put one part in this section at a PG-13, so just a heads-up. End OOCQuadrant I, near Kahi Point
“This is Kilo 2, Decks 4 and 5 have been toasted! The Mukara have made it to the secondary bridge!”
“Mayday, mayday, this is Tango 5, MCEG has been damaged. Magnetic field disabled. Expect high antimatter explosion, all ships clear!” The helpless Taurus Class Battlecruiser detonated, throwing massive pieces of the warship into the nearby PXE starships.
“This is ridiculous. We’ve lost two fleets in a single rotation. If we can’t stop these boarding parties, casualty rates will continue rising exponentially.”
“Sir, I have a report from Quadrant IV.”
Admiral Kamay read the report. “The 73rd Fleet has not withdrawn. A Code Alpha Seven. Get me Captain Axal immediately.” He swore in his head. ”What’s going on over there?”
“Yes sir.”
Meanwhile, back on the PXS Capricorn
Axal paced the bridge, attracting some suspicious and questioning looks from the other crew members. The PXE’s fighters continued circling the fleet, prepared for a possible DI attack. Several kilometers away, the DI warships had paused, most likely awaiting orders or reinforcements. And yet, the PXE would be receiving no support anytime soon.
Suddenly, a signal immediately chimed out, distinguishing a transmission. ”Ugh, what now? Reinforcements hopefully?” But a communications officer contradicted his hopes. “Captain, it’s Admiral Kamay of the 5th Fleet. It’s a Code 2 transmission. He’s transmitting from Port Zulu. Must be the Mukara.”
“Put him through.” The command tower of Zulu appeared on the projector of the bridge.
“Captain Axal.”
“Admiral, sir.” The captain politely saluted.
“Captain, you were requested to return to PXE space at 0300 hours yesterday by Commander Barzok at Port Omaha. You cut the transmission. Why?”
“Sir, with all due respect, you have no command over the 73rd Fleet. The 73rd Fleet is commanded exclusively by myself and Major General Gkal,” Axal said, nodding to the figure to his right. “Our orders were directly from Intel Command. We are to continue aiding the Sons of Liberty until further notice. Issued at 0230 hours yesterday, before Barzok’s transmission, sir.”
The admiral was silent for a moment, most likely glaring intently at Captain Axal behind his visor. But a huge “BOOM” distracted him.
“Admiral, what was that?”
But the admiral ignored Axal. On the other side of the projector, he barked out orders. “I want Zulu Platoon 3 and 5 split between the starboard hangar bays. Hold out as long as you can before breaking out the spewers. All Intel and bridge officers, to the Delta hangar bank.”
“Admiral, I repeat, what’s going on over there? Why are you abandoning the station?”
The admiral lost his normally gruff and commanding voice. He seemed to shrink as he muttered, “The Mukara are boarding the station. They’ve reached the hangar bays and are breaking through our defenses. The 5th and 97th Fleets are lost. Kahi Point can’t hold. We’re abandoning-”
Captain Axal cut him off. “Behind you!” he screamed as loud as he could, alerting the rest of the Capricorn’s bridge crew. But he ignored them, staring in horror.
The admiral quickly rotated around, producing his dagger as he did so. But it was too late. A Mukara shot its head towards the admiral, biting his hand off, leaving a bloody stump and the hand hanging limp in the Mukara’s jaws. It promptly bit down, producing a grotesque chomping sound, the same sound of tearing flesh and shriveling bone.
Axal stared in horror. “Admiral!” But the generated image of Admiral Kamay fell down, out of sight of the projector. The Mukara twisted its heads, clicking its jaws together, still covered in dripping blood. It looked down at the mutilated form of Admiral Kamay, before plunging itself headfirst straight at his stomach. The projection went blank before being cut off.
Gkal, still behind Axal, looked around at the bridge crew. No one needed an explanation. They were all veterans of the brutal war nearly a decade ago, against the same enemy, with the same desperation.
Axal clasped his hands together, and stalked off the bridge, leaving the Gkal and the other officers to repeat the image in their heads alone.
But almost immediately, an officer called Captain Axal back to the bridge. "What's going on?" Axal seemed perfectly calm, despite the ordeal that had occurred only several seconds before.
"Captain Johnnyred of the Phoenix Command Group has moved the Arondite between our fleets. He is ordering us to power down our weapon systems. Should we comply?"
"What of the DI ships? Have they?"
"Negative captain, but they are not appearing to move their vessels."
"Affirmative. Reduce energy spikes. Keep the weapons charging but not ready to fire. Raise magnetic output intensity of the DSG's by mark .5. I'm not taking any chances."
"What of the fighters, captain? Should we withdraw them as well?"
Axal stood for a moment, calculating his chances. If we engage the DI forces, the PCG will most likely ally with them as well...we'll be outnumbered... "Affirmative. Withdraw all fighter squadrons. Keep all ships and fighters at a Code Yellow." Turning to Major General Gkal, he said, "Keep your boarding parties on a Code Yellow as well."
The major general nodded and exited the bridge. The large horde of PXE fighters vanished back into their respective warships within minutes. Axal queued the communications officer.
"Captain Johnnyred, we have now powered our weapons down. All fighter squadrons have returned to the fleet. We await the DI's response sir. Captain Axal out."
OOC: Btw, I am aware that there is not much sentiment, exclaiming, shouting, and other highly emotional expressions from PXE personnel. This is mostly due to the desensitization they undergo at birth. Therefore, PXE troops have little to no emotion in any events, including deaths, problems, etc. End OOC
- JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 870
Location : Adventure Comix Studios
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 1:47 pm
[OOC] I did notice that I put MSI instead of Daragon. XD I edited it after I posted it. [End OOC]
"Thank you, Captain." Johnnyred replied. "While we are awaiting for Daragon Incorporated, I was wondering if you would give us a little information on the PhoeniX Engineering Group, I'm not familiar with your corporation."
[End OOC]"Thank you, Captain." Johnnyred replied. "While we are awaiting for Daragon Incorporated, I was wondering if you would give us a little information on the PhoeniX Engineering Group, I'm not familiar with your corporation."
- Dino27Captain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-20
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 1435
Location : P.C.G. York ready room
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 2:20 pm
OOC
J-red. Actually, if I remember correctly, it was set as a twist in the timeline and not as an alternate universe, unless the universe it started from was an alternate universe? I didn't think it was. But oh well. A twist in the timeline that doesn't effect Spock's life much, but totally changes him into a mega emotional Vulcan, is just illogical.
Clearly we're in a universe that is very close in most respects, but not identical to the Prime Trek verse.
Okay, so Romulus was destroyed in the Prime (and therefor very likely our) timeline, before Nero went back in time to try and change everything. (That's part of why I refuse to accept the Abrams reboot, because, as it is set as an altered timeline, everything we know abut Trek would be destroyed and altered. So I'll accept the modified version that Nero somehow went back in time, to another Universe, but did not have any further effect on our Universe. The Department of Temporal Investigations would have something to say about time altering Romulans. )
Following the STO Romulan story-line, Romulus was destroyed in the prime universe. That said, the Star Empire we all love to hate from the TV series is still alive and well, although weakened. Taking info from STO, there are actually TWO separate Romulan factions now. The Romulan Star Empire, and the Romulan Republic. The Empire hates the Vulcans guts, (Spock) and thereby the Federation, so they aren't likely too chummy with the PCG. But The Romulan Republic, a group of dissatisfied Imperial Romulan citizens who left the Empire and started their own government, are on good terms with the Federation AND THE KLINGONS. So we actually have Romulans both ways.
Kind of like the Klingon split we had in the PCG-verse. Good Romulan-Bad Romulan.
End OOC
J-red. Actually, if I remember correctly, it was set as a twist in the timeline and not as an alternate universe, unless the universe it started from was an alternate universe? I didn't think it was. But oh well. A twist in the timeline that doesn't effect Spock's life much, but totally changes him into a mega emotional Vulcan, is just illogical.
Clearly we're in a universe that is very close in most respects, but not identical to the Prime Trek verse.
Okay, so Romulus was destroyed in the Prime (and therefor very likely our) timeline, before Nero went back in time to try and change everything. (That's part of why I refuse to accept the Abrams reboot, because, as it is set as an altered timeline, everything we know abut Trek would be destroyed and altered. So I'll accept the modified version that Nero somehow went back in time, to another Universe, but did not have any further effect on our Universe. The Department of Temporal Investigations would have something to say about time altering Romulans.
) Following the STO Romulan story-line, Romulus was destroyed in the prime universe. That said, the Star Empire we all love to hate from the TV series is still alive and well, although weakened. Taking info from STO, there are actually TWO separate Romulan factions now. The Romulan Star Empire, and the Romulan Republic. The Empire hates the Vulcans guts, (Spock) and thereby the Federation, so they aren't likely too chummy with the PCG. But The Romulan Republic, a group of dissatisfied Imperial Romulan citizens who left the Empire and started their own government, are on good terms with the Federation AND THE KLINGONS. So we actually have Romulans both ways.
Kind of like the Klingon split we had in the PCG-verse. Good Romulan-Bad Romulan.End OOC
- Andre TholvelCEO
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Posts : 381
Location : Aboard the IFS Varda, viewing construction of the next flagship.
Character sheet
Faction:
Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 3:52 pm
OOC: I don't have time to write an actual post, and may not for some time. However, I wanted to mention something to PXR-- there's currently only one MkIII Wrangler around. Three more are on the way, alone with another fairly small frigate, but that's it, just the one frigate. Also, there are only 16 fighters, which is a LOT, because this is a heavily modified custom ship owned personally by Captain Candirith. Most Wrangler MkIII's only carry 4-8 fighters max, because they're just frigates 200-300 meters long. xD
I'm starting college basically tomorrow, so I may not be on here except to make quick action posts. Jred/Scare, if you need to move the plot along and I'm not there, just go ahead and use my ships as you think I would; if you want to involve me in a subplot, go ahead and PM whatever information to me, and then control my forces assuming they know what I told you, I'll work with it as I can. Scare, you know more about DI than Jred does from my PM, so I'd prefer you did the controlling, but eh, it's not a huge deal in the long run.
As DI seems to be misunderstood as one of the megacorporate empires (Yaka Empire, PXR), I hope to make a post fairly soon explaining more clearly DI's history and description. But for the time being, let it be generally known that while DI is in it for the profit, they sell far more than starships, and have a strict honor code concerning sales/rentals to opposing parties.
/OOC
*the four DI reinforcements, three Wrangler MkIII's and one Falcon, led by a likable, cheerful but affirmative-in-command Captain Magorinc, arrive and make clear their alignment to the Sons of Liberty. Captain Candirith apologizes for any misunderstanding in their assumption that the PXR was hostile to the SoL, and leaves the area*
I'm starting college basically tomorrow, so I may not be on here except to make quick action posts. Jred/Scare, if you need to move the plot along and I'm not there, just go ahead and use my ships as you think I would; if you want to involve me in a subplot, go ahead and PM whatever information to me, and then control my forces assuming they know what I told you, I'll work with it as I can. Scare, you know more about DI than Jred does from my PM, so I'd prefer you did the controlling, but eh, it's not a huge deal in the long run.
As DI seems to be misunderstood as one of the megacorporate empires (Yaka Empire, PXR), I hope to make a post fairly soon explaining more clearly DI's history and description. But for the time being, let it be generally known that while DI is in it for the profit, they sell far more than starships, and have a strict honor code concerning sales/rentals to opposing parties.
/OOC
*the four DI reinforcements, three Wrangler MkIII's and one Falcon, led by a likable, cheerful but affirmative-in-command Captain Magorinc, arrive and make clear their alignment to the Sons of Liberty. Captain Candirith apologizes for any misunderstanding in their assumption that the PXR was hostile to the SoL, and leaves the area*
- PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)
- Join date : 2014-06-24
Faction : ICS
Posts : 588
Location : Out of the frying pan and into the fire
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Sat Aug 23, 2014 3:56 pm
OOC @Supe: Its PXE not PXR. PXR is my name. PXE stands for PhoeniX Engineering. Anyway, I know what you mean. I doubt I'll be able to be as active due to school, which started last week for me. And, like Supe, in the case that I become inactive, anyone can use my units as they see fit. Just forget about the Mukara and their subplot and all that and use my units on Rator III. End OOC
Captain Axal relaxes slightly, but the tension from an imminent and highly likely Mukara assault bother him. He retires to his quarters, and the decoys onboard the dropships follow the PCG fighters.
OOC @J-red: Sorry, I didn't see your post before. End OOC
The decoy Axal (which only the PXE know about) looked at Captain Johnnyred. "Much of the information about PXE is classified. My apologies. However, I will be able to give you some." He looked at decoy Gkal, who nodded. "PXE was formed solely as a civilian starship manufacturing company, primarily for shipping and mining. However, as huge amounts of money landed in our economy, we invested more and more in military projects, until civilian production essentially vanished. Our primary city is Raka Alos, and we seek to profit, but to test our military forces as well, who have yet to prove its strength in a larger-scaled conflict."
OOC Sorry if this was a bit boring/short, I'm kind of tired right now. End OOC
PXR is my name. PXE stands for PhoeniX Engineering. Anyway, I know what you mean. I doubt I'll be able to be as active due to school, which started last week for me. And, like Supe, in the case that I become inactive, anyone can use my units as they see fit. Just forget about the Mukara and their subplot and all that and use my units on Rator III. End OOCCaptain Axal relaxes slightly, but the tension from an imminent and highly likely Mukara assault bother him. He retires to his quarters, and the decoys onboard the dropships follow the PCG fighters.
OOC @J-red: Sorry, I didn't see your post before.
End OOCThe decoy Axal (which only the PXE know about) looked at Captain Johnnyred. "Much of the information about PXE is classified. My apologies. However, I will be able to give you some." He looked at decoy Gkal, who nodded. "PXE was formed solely as a civilian starship manufacturing company, primarily for shipping and mining. However, as huge amounts of money landed in our economy, we invested more and more in military projects, until civilian production essentially vanished. Our primary city is Raka Alos, and we seek to profit, but to test our military forces as well, who have yet to prove its strength in a larger-scaled conflict."
OOC Sorry if this was a bit boring/short, I'm kind of tired right now.
End OOC- JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 870
Location : Adventure Comix Studios
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Mon Aug 25, 2014 2:22 am
"So basically, similar background to most of the other PMC contractors." Johnnyred replied. He glances down at a control panel. "According to our telemetry readers, you should be almost to our hanger bay. I'll have my personal Marine detachment meet you at the hanger and escort you to the Arondite's conference room. Until then. Johnnyred, out. I'm looking forward to meeting you, sir."
Johnnyred punches a few commands into his control panel and multiple comm screens on a secure PCG communications line open up. "Attention, all fleet commanders in the Sons of Liberty. I respectfully request your appearance aboard the PCG Arondite. We are meeting together with the representative of the PhoeniX Engineering Group. This will give us the chance to learn more about the PXE as well as to regroup and plan our next strategies. I have Oregon Trail ships closing on our location with supplies and troops to resupply us as well as a few more ships to add to our unit. You gentlemen may want to consider your fleet formations and do similarly. I will see you soon."
Johnnyred punches a few commands into his control panel and multiple comm screens on a secure PCG communications line open up. "Attention, all fleet commanders in the Sons of Liberty. I respectfully request your appearance aboard the PCG Arondite. We are meeting together with the representative of the PhoeniX Engineering Group. This will give us the chance to learn more about the PXE as well as to regroup and plan our next strategies. I have Oregon Trail ships closing on our location with supplies and troops to resupply us as well as a few more ships to add to our unit. You gentlemen may want to consider your fleet formations and do similarly. I will see you soon."
TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)- Join date : 2014-05-27
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 1012
Location : Classified
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Khent-sa
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Mon Aug 25, 2014 7:23 am
OOC
Dino:
According to one theory, a new universe is formed every time someone makes a descision between something; I imagine the same would apply to time-traveling Romulan miners.
J-red: Wait, if we're in the middle of Ronulan space, how are we reinforcing?! I would imagine it would take much longer than what you implied, especially considering it took three days to get us here.
Dino:
Dino wrote:Actually, if I remember correctly, it was set as a twist in the timeline and not as an alternate universe, unless the universe it started from was an alternate universe?
According to one theory, a new universe is formed every time someone makes a descision between something; I imagine the same would apply to time-traveling Romulan miners.
J-red: Wait, if we're in the middle of Ronulan space, how are we reinforcing?!
I would imagine it would take much longer than what you implied, especially considering it took three days to get us here. 
LonestarCaptain (PCG)- Join date : 2013-05-21
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 583
Location : Classified
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Mon Aug 25, 2014 12:11 pm
Commander Turson acknowledges J-red's command and heads toward the transporter room.
OOC
MM:
There are dozens of technical flaws like that in this RPG. Bear with me.
End OOC
OOC
MM:
There are dozens of technical flaws like that in this RPG. Bear with me.
End OOC
- JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)
- Join date : 2013-05-19
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 870
Location : Adventure Comix Studios
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Human
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Mon Aug 25, 2014 12:20 pm
[OOC] If you will recall, I was gone from the RPG for a while, and I had regrouped with another unit to deal with the Bord. These are some of the ships that were with that other unit, and the Oregon Trail ships are coming in via stargate. [/End OOC]
- TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)
- Join date : 2014-05-27
Faction : Phoenix Command Group
Posts : 1012
Location : Classified
Character sheet
Faction: Phoenix Command Group
Species: Khent-sa
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Mon Aug 25, 2014 12:33 pm
OOC Oh, right stargates. Forgot about those. OOC
EDIT: Well, no one else seems to feel like continuing yet, so in the interest of not double-posting, I'll put my next part here:
Primary bridge, PCG Hantā, Docking ring Charlie, Port 1B, Aeranite Station
3 hours later
“Captain on the bridge!”
“At ease,” Acting Commandant Wrightshede said, intentionally in a commanding tone. Not bad, he thought of the result, Not bad at all. At least something is turning out well. He resumed his position in his command chair and turned to his first officer, Cliff Darby, saying “Cliff, sitrep,” Cliff pressed a few buttons on a nearby console and replied “All stocks are replenished, warp core is primed and ready, armory waiting on new shipment, some nonessential personnel absent, all strike craft in port hangars 7C and 7D undergoing maintenance, all shuttles have the green-light, all subsystems looking good, impulse engines refueled, maintenance checks three-through-seven completed,”
“Very well,” Wrightshede replied. Then, turning to helm, he ordered “Mr. Begay, take us out of dock; permission should already be secured,” Instantly, the room went from the business-as-usual atmosphere that had been maintained even throughout the crisis to dead silence, all eyes turned to the captain*. Aaron Begay, the helmsman, was particularly shocked; he swiveled his chair and was the first to break the awkward silence, asking “Sir?” The ship’s captain sighed and rubbed his forehead, obviously with something heavy weighing on his mind. “Just do it, helm,” he commanded in reply,his tone already exasperated. A few more moments passed before he added “I’ll explain when we get there,” Begay blinked, paused, and slowly swiveled back around and typed several commands into the console in front of him. The room remained silent, minus the slow beeping of the computer and footsteps heard outside in the hall.
Begay looked up from his screen. “We’re… good to go,” He said. The comms officer, evidently unsure of what else to do, contacted the docking ring and informed the dock control, “Port, this is the Hantā… we’re green to go, over,”
“Roger that, Hantā. Good hunting!”
Without another word, helm and navigation stepped in. The ship slowly removed herself from the confines of the port and gracefully glided out, clearing the docking ring with ease. Commandant Wrightshede moved his hands so it now formed somewhat of a facepalm, with his elbows resting on his shoulders, his hands parted at the wrist to make room for his mouth to say “Nav, take us to coordinates 07-H8-33-94-Q...warp four,” Now it was navigator William Garsfield’s turn to whirl around at the captain. “Sir,” he injected, “That’s several hundred klicks inside the nebula!” “I’m fully aware,” The commandant replied, “Just take us there,” The Navigator and helmsman exchanged glances before proceeding to run all the proper system checks and inform engineering of the imminent warp jump. Unlike usual, the captain made no move to be involved at all. Cliff later claimed he heard him mutter something about “suicide mission”, but at the time, all anyone could discern was that the captain was acting in a way unlike anything anyone had seen in their past three months together.
The trip itself was almost completely uneventful; there was obviously some amount of scuttlebutt on their destination and mission, but no one dared ask the captain anything in a state like this. All anyone knew was that where they were headed was some distance inside the nebula.
The drop out of warp, however, was anything but textbook. The minute the warp drive disengaged, communications held his hand to his ear, paused, and reported “Sir, we’re being hailed…” he stopped again as a wave of incredulity passed over his face, “...by...by the Vindex,” For the first time since he got in the position, Acting commandant Wrightshede glanced up, ordering “On screen,” The somewhat tired but still groomed face of the Vindex’s XO, Thomas Moyter, appeared on screen. “Acting Commandant,” he said respectfully yet happily, with somewhat of an almost-impish grin on his face. To all’s surprised, Wrightshede grinned and replied “Helm… or is it Acting Captain now?” “No,” Moyter laughed in reply, “‘just’ acting LC,” He glanced down at something on his command chair, and then looked back up. “The transporter room’s ready, sir. We’re awaiting you request to beam aboard any moment.” “Thank you... Acting LC,” Wrightshede said with a grin, intentionally putting emphasis on rank in a mocking yet friendly way.
The transmission cut as he stood up with a sigh, brushing himself off. He looked around the bridge as if saying goodbye, and then motioned to his first officer, saying “Cliff, you’re with me. Arnold, you have the conn,” He left the bridge for the turbolift, Cliff following behind him, still dazed everything that was suddenly happening around him. The rest of the bridge crew simply sat there at look at each other.
The captain and first officer walked into an unused turbolift. The doors closed behind them and the captain ordered “Computer, transporter room 1A,” The computer chirped in response and the turbolift went into motion. There was silence for several minutes, as both men delved deep into thought. Cliff stared at his captain, who didn’t seem to even acknowledge his presence, instead simply staring up at the turbolift’s ceiling as if no one else was there, evidently tackling some insurmountable obstacle in the deep reaches of his mind. Darby’s own mind was racing, attempting to piece together whatever he could of why they were there, about to beam aboard the flagship of an absent fleet commander. Demotion? No, they would’ve done that at Hugarah… Taking command? No, then we would be at the port still, overseeing the belongings exchange…. Taking command of a fleet? That would explain “Acting Commandant”....no, no, he’s too new to command to be trusted with a fleet, much less one with the Vindex...Covert ops? Where, to the Federation? And do what, take some potshots at a station? No, can’t be that either…
Then came yet another surprise in a day so full of them it was almost mind-numbing: The “Acting Commandant” himself volunteered the information. “Well,” he began, “I suppose this is all rather... confusing for you, isn’t it?” Cliff gave some kind of sighed through his nose and murmured “...yeah...yeah, I guess so…” “Well, good to know I’m not alone then,” Wrightshede replied, still evidently troubled but not skipping a beat regardless. “I suppose this is... a promotion of sorts: I’m to take personal command of the Vindex and lead a small strike group- Special Squadron Odin, they’re calling us- and meet up with the Sons of Liberty Task Force to provide combat support before and/or during an assault on Rator III, should that be necessary, then follow up with any further support they may require.” he grinned and added “Sounds simple enough, eh?” Cliff just blinked, obviously shell-shocked. “Yes, that was my reaction too.” Wrightshede replied to the thoughts running rampant in his mind, “...and remember to keep quiet about this- this is a top-secret operation, you know. I’ll brief you in more detail when everyone’s on board the Vindex,” The turbolift became quiet again- but not a pensive one like last time. This was a awkward, yet rather foreboding quiet, the exact kind that had pervaded what seemed so long ago, when Wrightshede was first given command of this ragtag group and his mind was forced to return to Huga-
No! You’ve been able to keep...that place… out of your head thus far. Don’t ruin it now. Just say something else…
He was about to do just that when Cliff broke the silence of his own accord, saying “Ah… how to say this…. sir, is this operation… legal?”
Wrighshede’s brow scrunched. “What do you mean... ‘legal’?”
“I mean...I mean, aren’t our outstanding orders to protect this sector?”
“Without harming the Feds if necessary, yes,”
“Well… abandoning our patrol routes with an elite battleship and who-knows-what-else to Romulan space or wherever we’re headed doesn’t seem like….”
“Not directly, no. But Intel says they’re behind this, and charging the Rommies in their holes is apparently the best way to stabilize the Fed government- and Starfleet,” For a moment, his eyes assumed their old twinkle again as he added “and thus, protect the sector. It’s a stretch, but that’s what we do in the PCG- stretch the rules,” His demeanor returned to it’s overburdened, depressed state, but that singular moment of normalcy was enough to say all that was needed. “I… I think I understand, sir,” Cliff replied. No sooner had he finished than the turbolift doors opened, and the two walked out into the hall and into transporter room 1A. The officer in charge of monitoring the beaming squinted at his captain as he walked in. “Sir, with all due respect… you look like crap,” the engineer mentioned as they walked past. “Noted. Lock on to the Vindex and prepare to engage,” Wrightshede replied, again in his commanding tone. The engineer, who was evidently also confused by the series of events, took longer than usual- almost a full five minutes. Finally, he glanced up and said “Ready,”
Wrightshede straightened his back, put his hands behind his back, and commanded “Energize!"
*I know, only member of the council have the rank of captain. The reason I continually refer to him as “captain” is because he’s captain of the Hantā; it’s his title, not his rank. His actual rank would be First Lieutenant or something along those lines (I couldn’t find the ranking chart, so I don’t remember what all the various paygrades and such are or what would be best applicable to the NPCs), though in the RPG his rank and title are Acting Commandant, or just Commandant.
OOCEDIT: Well, no one else seems to feel like continuing yet, so in the interest of not double-posting, I'll put my next part here:
Primary bridge, PCG Hantā, Docking ring Charlie, Port 1B, Aeranite Station
3 hours later
“Captain on the bridge!”
“At ease,” Acting Commandant Wrightshede said, intentionally in a commanding tone. Not bad, he thought of the result, Not bad at all. At least something is turning out well. He resumed his position in his command chair and turned to his first officer, Cliff Darby, saying “Cliff, sitrep,” Cliff pressed a few buttons on a nearby console and replied “All stocks are replenished, warp core is primed and ready, armory waiting on new shipment, some nonessential personnel absent, all strike craft in port hangars 7C and 7D undergoing maintenance, all shuttles have the green-light, all subsystems looking good, impulse engines refueled, maintenance checks three-through-seven completed,”
“Very well,” Wrightshede replied. Then, turning to helm, he ordered “Mr. Begay, take us out of dock; permission should already be secured,” Instantly, the room went from the business-as-usual atmosphere that had been maintained even throughout the crisis to dead silence, all eyes turned to the captain*. Aaron Begay, the helmsman, was particularly shocked; he swiveled his chair and was the first to break the awkward silence, asking “Sir?” The ship’s captain sighed and rubbed his forehead, obviously with something heavy weighing on his mind. “Just do it, helm,” he commanded in reply,his tone already exasperated. A few more moments passed before he added “I’ll explain when we get there,” Begay blinked, paused, and slowly swiveled back around and typed several commands into the console in front of him. The room remained silent, minus the slow beeping of the computer and footsteps heard outside in the hall.
Begay looked up from his screen. “We’re… good to go,” He said. The comms officer, evidently unsure of what else to do, contacted the docking ring and informed the dock control, “Port, this is the Hantā… we’re green to go, over,”
“Roger that, Hantā. Good hunting!”
Without another word, helm and navigation stepped in. The ship slowly removed herself from the confines of the port and gracefully glided out, clearing the docking ring with ease. Commandant Wrightshede moved his hands so it now formed somewhat of a facepalm, with his elbows resting on his shoulders, his hands parted at the wrist to make room for his mouth to say “Nav, take us to coordinates 07-H8-33-94-Q...warp four,” Now it was navigator William Garsfield’s turn to whirl around at the captain. “Sir,” he injected, “That’s several hundred klicks inside the nebula!” “I’m fully aware,” The commandant replied, “Just take us there,” The Navigator and helmsman exchanged glances before proceeding to run all the proper system checks and inform engineering of the imminent warp jump. Unlike usual, the captain made no move to be involved at all. Cliff later claimed he heard him mutter something about “suicide mission”, but at the time, all anyone could discern was that the captain was acting in a way unlike anything anyone had seen in their past three months together.
The trip itself was almost completely uneventful; there was obviously some amount of scuttlebutt on their destination and mission, but no one dared ask the captain anything in a state like this. All anyone knew was that where they were headed was some distance inside the nebula.
The drop out of warp, however, was anything but textbook. The minute the warp drive disengaged, communications held his hand to his ear, paused, and reported “Sir, we’re being hailed…” he stopped again as a wave of incredulity passed over his face, “...by...by the Vindex,” For the first time since he got in the position, Acting commandant Wrightshede glanced up, ordering “On screen,” The somewhat tired but still groomed face of the Vindex’s XO, Thomas Moyter, appeared on screen. “Acting Commandant,” he said respectfully yet happily, with somewhat of an almost-impish grin on his face. To all’s surprised, Wrightshede grinned and replied “Helm… or is it Acting Captain now?” “No,” Moyter laughed in reply, “‘just’ acting LC,” He glanced down at something on his command chair, and then looked back up. “The transporter room’s ready, sir. We’re awaiting you request to beam aboard any moment.” “Thank you... Acting LC,” Wrightshede said with a grin, intentionally putting emphasis on rank in a mocking yet friendly way.
The transmission cut as he stood up with a sigh, brushing himself off. He looked around the bridge as if saying goodbye, and then motioned to his first officer, saying “Cliff, you’re with me. Arnold, you have the conn,” He left the bridge for the turbolift, Cliff following behind him, still dazed everything that was suddenly happening around him. The rest of the bridge crew simply sat there at look at each other.
The captain and first officer walked into an unused turbolift. The doors closed behind them and the captain ordered “Computer, transporter room 1A,” The computer chirped in response and the turbolift went into motion. There was silence for several minutes, as both men delved deep into thought. Cliff stared at his captain, who didn’t seem to even acknowledge his presence, instead simply staring up at the turbolift’s ceiling as if no one else was there, evidently tackling some insurmountable obstacle in the deep reaches of his mind. Darby’s own mind was racing, attempting to piece together whatever he could of why they were there, about to beam aboard the flagship of an absent fleet commander. Demotion? No, they would’ve done that at Hugarah… Taking command? No, then we would be at the port still, overseeing the belongings exchange…. Taking command of a fleet? That would explain “Acting Commandant”....no, no, he’s too new to command to be trusted with a fleet, much less one with the Vindex...Covert ops? Where, to the Federation? And do what, take some potshots at a station? No, can’t be that either…
Then came yet another surprise in a day so full of them it was almost mind-numbing: The “Acting Commandant” himself volunteered the information. “Well,” he began, “I suppose this is all rather... confusing for you, isn’t it?” Cliff gave some kind of sighed through his nose and murmured “...yeah...yeah, I guess so…” “Well, good to know I’m not alone then,” Wrightshede replied, still evidently troubled but not skipping a beat regardless. “I suppose this is... a promotion of sorts: I’m to take personal command of the Vindex and lead a small strike group- Special Squadron Odin, they’re calling us- and meet up with the Sons of Liberty Task Force to provide combat support before and/or during an assault on Rator III, should that be necessary, then follow up with any further support they may require.” he grinned and added “Sounds simple enough, eh?” Cliff just blinked, obviously shell-shocked. “Yes, that was my reaction too.” Wrightshede replied to the thoughts running rampant in his mind, “...and remember to keep quiet about this- this is a top-secret operation, you know. I’ll brief you in more detail when everyone’s on board the Vindex,” The turbolift became quiet again- but not a pensive one like last time. This was a awkward, yet rather foreboding quiet, the exact kind that had pervaded what seemed so long ago, when Wrightshede was first given command of this ragtag group and his mind was forced to return to Huga-
No! You’ve been able to keep...that place… out of your head thus far. Don’t ruin it now. Just say something else…
He was about to do just that when Cliff broke the silence of his own accord, saying “Ah… how to say this…. sir, is this operation… legal?”
Wrighshede’s brow scrunched. “What do you mean... ‘legal’?”
“I mean...I mean, aren’t our outstanding orders to protect this sector?”
“Without harming the Feds if necessary, yes,”
“Well… abandoning our patrol routes with an elite battleship and who-knows-what-else to Romulan space or wherever we’re headed doesn’t seem like….”
“Not directly, no. But Intel says they’re behind this, and charging the Rommies in their holes is apparently the best way to stabilize the Fed government- and Starfleet,” For a moment, his eyes assumed their old twinkle again as he added “and thus, protect the sector. It’s a stretch, but that’s what we do in the PCG- stretch the rules,” His demeanor returned to it’s overburdened, depressed state, but that singular moment of normalcy was enough to say all that was needed. “I… I think I understand, sir,” Cliff replied. No sooner had he finished than the turbolift doors opened, and the two walked out into the hall and into transporter room 1A. The officer in charge of monitoring the beaming squinted at his captain as he walked in. “Sir, with all due respect… you look like crap,” the engineer mentioned as they walked past. “Noted. Lock on to the Vindex and prepare to engage,” Wrightshede replied, again in his commanding tone. The engineer, who was evidently also confused by the series of events, took longer than usual- almost a full five minutes. Finally, he glanced up and said “Ready,”
Wrightshede straightened his back, put his hands behind his back, and commanded “Energize!"
*I know, only member of the council have the rank of captain. The reason I continually refer to him as “captain” is because he’s captain of the Hantā; it’s his title, not his rank. His actual rank would be First Lieutenant or something along those lines (I couldn’t find the ranking chart, so I don’t remember what all the various paygrades and such are or what would be best applicable to the NPCs), though in the RPG his rank and title are Acting Commandant, or just Commandant.
- PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)
- Join date : 2014-06-24
Faction : ICS
Posts : 588
Location : Out of the frying pan and into the fire
Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY
Mon Aug 25, 2014 3:57 pm
Onboard the Capricorn
"Captain Axal, the dropships have almost reached the Arondite. It seems that several other SoL leaders are arriving onboard that ship as well."
Axal thought for a moment. "Transmit a Code Beta Two to both dropships."
"Yes sir."
Port Omaha, Quadrant IV
Commander Barzok slowly paced to the central command tower. He watched as the Mukara*'s forces, represented by crimson markings, expanded from Kahi Point towards Olarth's sister city, Alkre on the projected map. PXE casualties were high, and rising constantly. With almost thirty billion civilians and military personnel killed during the Battle of Olarth, it signaled the bloodiest confrontation in PXE history.
Barzok looked up as an officer tapped his shoulder. "Sir, I have an incoming transmission from Captain Axal. It's another Alpha Seven."
He slowly stalked towards the projector, one of many in the room. "Commander Barzok here. Another Alpha Seven I presume."
Axal nodded cautiously. "We require immediate reinforcements. Port Omaha is the closest base we have to Romulan airspace. The Aquila's are needed in two days. D-day is closing quickly."
Barzok mentally glared at the captain. "An insubordinate." He quickly reacquired control over his emotions. "Captain Axal, I'm afraid that reinforcements are impossible without urgent reason. Your dropships will be sufficient for troop and hardsuit deployment. All current Aquila's are prototypes, and they must be supplied to the troops in the north, who are preparing a counteroffensive against Mukara strongholds on Olarth and Kahi Point. The most I can do right now is resupply you with Pisces's corvettes."
Captain Axal bit his lip. "Sir, I have an idea. But I need you to contact Intel Command. Get me Admiral Raznt."
Giving him a hard look behind the visor, Commander Barzok decided to comply. Several seconds later, a second projection, that of Admiral Raznt himself, of the 11th Fleet, appeared. Both Captain Axal and Commander Barzok saluted.
"At ease."
Axal and Barzok both relaxed slightly. "Captain Axal requested an audience with you and myself, sir."
The captain nodded at Barzok appreciatively before beginning. "Admiral, I am sure that you are aware of the 73rd Fleet's temporary alliance with the Sons of Liberty, to rid the Federation of a Romulan saboteur.** However, the Mukaran threat has once again arisen, spreading from the Garrison at Kalla and southward, to Kahi Point. I need some information about the Mukara. I understand that this is classified by Intel. But the information you give me today could rid us permanently of the Mukaran threat."
Admiral Raznt hesitantly nodded, then seemed to decide to comply with Axal.
"Sir, I need to know what happened to Dr. Niko. Where is he being held? He was never formally executed, and, as far as I know, was not killed during the War."
"Captain, this information is completely unrelated to the Mukara. I highly doubt that this information can be used as a weapon against them."
"Admiral, let me remind you that the 73rd Fleet belongs to Intel Command. Therefore, all information in Intel's jurisdiction is also accessible by its fleets. No disrespect intended, but you must allow me to access the files."
"Captain, I don't care whether you are a part of Intel or not. As a superior officer, I will not allow you to access these files unless you state a true reason for these files."
"Admiral, I am planning to utilize the Mukara in battle. Afterall, that was their original purpose, wasn't it?"
OOC:
Wow, that took a long time. Sorry this ends like that, but I need to do something else. This subplot will continue for quite awhile, as far as I know.
*Mukara: six-legged, spider/crab like creatures that are vicious and savage, especially at close range/super strong "armor", however, rely on boarding vessels and hiding there for transport
More information on the Mukara will become available as [if] the subplot continues and more history is revealed about the First Mukara War and the pre- and post- war period as well.
**I think?
End OOC
"Captain Axal, the dropships have almost reached the Arondite. It seems that several other SoL leaders are arriving onboard that ship as well."
Axal thought for a moment. "Transmit a Code Beta Two to both dropships."
"Yes sir."
Port Omaha, Quadrant IV
Commander Barzok slowly paced to the central command tower. He watched as the Mukara*'s forces, represented by crimson markings, expanded from Kahi Point towards Olarth's sister city, Alkre on the projected map. PXE casualties were high, and rising constantly. With almost thirty billion civilians and military personnel killed during the Battle of Olarth, it signaled the bloodiest confrontation in PXE history.
Barzok looked up as an officer tapped his shoulder. "Sir, I have an incoming transmission from Captain Axal. It's another Alpha Seven."
He slowly stalked towards the projector, one of many in the room. "Commander Barzok here. Another Alpha Seven I presume."
Axal nodded cautiously. "We require immediate reinforcements. Port Omaha is the closest base we have to Romulan airspace. The Aquila's are needed in two days. D-day is closing quickly."
Barzok mentally glared at the captain. "An insubordinate." He quickly reacquired control over his emotions. "Captain Axal, I'm afraid that reinforcements are impossible without urgent reason. Your dropships will be sufficient for troop and hardsuit deployment. All current Aquila's are prototypes, and they must be supplied to the troops in the north, who are preparing a counteroffensive against Mukara strongholds on Olarth and Kahi Point. The most I can do right now is resupply you with Pisces's corvettes."
Captain Axal bit his lip. "Sir, I have an idea. But I need you to contact Intel Command. Get me Admiral Raznt."
Giving him a hard look behind the visor, Commander Barzok decided to comply. Several seconds later, a second projection, that of Admiral Raznt himself, of the 11th Fleet, appeared. Both Captain Axal and Commander Barzok saluted.
"At ease."
Axal and Barzok both relaxed slightly. "Captain Axal requested an audience with you and myself, sir."
The captain nodded at Barzok appreciatively before beginning. "Admiral, I am sure that you are aware of the 73rd Fleet's temporary alliance with the Sons of Liberty, to rid the Federation of a Romulan saboteur.** However, the Mukaran threat has once again arisen, spreading from the Garrison at Kalla and southward, to Kahi Point. I need some information about the Mukara. I understand that this is classified by Intel. But the information you give me today could rid us permanently of the Mukaran threat."
Admiral Raznt hesitantly nodded, then seemed to decide to comply with Axal.
"Sir, I need to know what happened to Dr. Niko. Where is he being held? He was never formally executed, and, as far as I know, was not killed during the War."
"Captain, this information is completely unrelated to the Mukara. I highly doubt that this information can be used as a weapon against them."
"Admiral, let me remind you that the 73rd Fleet belongs to Intel Command. Therefore, all information in Intel's jurisdiction is also accessible by its fleets. No disrespect intended, but you must allow me to access the files."
"Captain, I don't care whether you are a part of Intel or not. As a superior officer, I will not allow you to access these files unless you state a true reason for these files."
"Admiral, I am planning to utilize the Mukara in battle. Afterall, that was their original purpose, wasn't it?"
OOC:
Wow, that took a long time.
Sorry this ends like that, but I need to do something else. This subplot will continue for quite awhile, as far as I know. *Mukara: six-legged, spider/crab like creatures that are vicious and savage, especially at close range/super strong "armor", however, rely on boarding vessels and hiding there for transport
More information on the Mukara will become available as [if] the subplot continues and more history is revealed about the First Mukara War and the pre- and post- war period as well.
**I think?
End OOC
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