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Thread: Star Trek RPG - Mission #6: "Marala"

  1. #1251
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    Kylah clutches the edge of the table with pale fingers, struck numb. She cannot fathom such an immense, destructive and deadly emergency.

    What--what can be done? They will die. How many live here? 8,000 or so, if her now scattered thoughts can pull up the relevant information from her brain.

    Why am I here? she thinks desperately. This is the second time she has felt not just utterly out of her depth, but completely useless--the first being during that terrifying horde of altered Sakathians.

    I provide nothing. There should be scientists, engineers, security officers, biologists... Kylah manages to move her head slightly toward Velir before her gaze, wide and helpless, returns to Roble. 8000 people. Eighteen transporter pads. That is... Math is not her strongest subject and she has to struggle to come up with the calculation:

    Evacuating the planet would require over four hundred beam-ups.

    Even if the ship were capable of accommodating so many additions, taking into account not just space but life support requirements, the strain on the ship's engines... and it cannot, no ship she knows can manage such massive numbers other than the largest mining or cargo transport ships...

    There is not nearly enough time.

    What am I here for? she thinks again, desperately wishing she had not gone down to meet so many of the now-doomed residents.

    Looking around, Kylah swallows and asks in a weak, tentative whisper: "The domes... and the depth of the planet to which they've retreated, living so far underground... I suppose none of that is enough to protect them from such a blast?"
    Last edited by choie; 10 Jan 2019 at 01:09 AM.

  2. #1252
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    Roble shakes his head. "No. Nothing living in the entire system will survive, no matter how deep they go. Rho radiation passes through most matter... bedrock, even lead, as if it weren't there."

  3. #1253
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    Graham's stomach feels like a black hole. There's no obvious way Yorktown could evacuate all the colonists, but the loss of even thousands of lives is...tragic, but abstract, and he's seen a lot of death up close.

    But Marala.

    There's no way she can be lefty behind when I'm right here. But how does fidelity to 'duty' I just raised with her square with that?

    "Under these circumstances we ought to be able to issue emergency orders to not just every ship within range but also anything space worthy in orbit or on the surface--" He runs through his (frustratingly not precise enough) offhand memory of Helm, Nav, Engineering and Security staffing. "Captain, we could assemble teams of technical and security staff and load ships while they're tricked out for maximum capacity, maximum burn..." The hope he feels flickers. "Unless--do we know the tally of vessels is enough to make a difference?"

  4. #1254
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    Roble says, "The colony has a half-dozen or so small mining shuttles, but nothing with warp drive - nothing that could get far enough away before the radiation burst. There are no other ships in-system, and the next ore carrier isn't due for several weeks."

    "What about the Sarafina?" St. Croix asks. The young Security officer looks ashen.

    "She broke orbit almost an hour ago," Singh says, "leaving behind one of her crew in the colony jail, drunk, as it happens. As soon as Mr. Roble beamed up and made his report, Mr. Thalen signaled her to return, but there's been no response yet. We may have to go after her. I've notified Starfleet Command of the situation, but at this range it'll probably be the better part of a day before we hear from them. I've also notified Beta Antares IV," the nearest inhabited world, from which the Yorktown came, "to pass the word for any available ships to help evacuate the colony. But Novy Rostov is damn remote - it took us a little over six days to get here, and most ships aren't as fast as us."

    "Sweet Christ," Coimbra murmurs.

    The Captain continues, "Obviously we must save as many lives as we can. That's our top priority. Mr. Cheverez?"

    The Chief Engineer takes a deep breath. "The Yorktown is rated for a standard crew of 430, and our emergency capacity is another 900 people. Starfleet Engineering tends to err on the side of caution, but I think we could take on a total of 1,200 before our life support systems would be critically stressed."

    You all remember that the colony has over 8,000 people.

    "We'll still be a week from the nearest port, or less, I suppose, if we went faster," Dr. Villa observes. "That's too long to be breathing vacuum."

    "Yes, but with that kind of load on our power systems, I'd recommend against going faster than the Warp 6 we did to get here," Cheverez says.

    The Captain mulls this over, then says, "I have to go tell Gov. Voronko the bad news. It'll be up to him to tell his people; I could do it, but I'm sure they'd rather hear it from him." She turns to the landing party. "I know you weren't down there very long, but is there anything about the colony you learned that we should know about, anything that would affect how we handle this situation?"
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 11 Jan 2019 at 11:14 PM.

  5. #1255
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    Only 1200 can be saved. More than three-quarters of them to die.

    The group's combined shock at this news impacts Kylah's body like a jolt of electricity. And the rising dread, coupled with her own horror, almost suffocates her, chokes her airway nearly shut. She struggles to gather her control to avoid being overwhelmed by the emotional miasma of doom.

    She glances helplessly around at the others from the landing party. Any one of them is more likely to have useful information about the technical, practical or security-related issues that might in some way relate to this dreadful situation.

    What can she possibly offer? That Mrs. Antonov should be provided with a glass of Chardonnay to enjoy before she is destroyed by a blast of rho radiation because the Yorktown is not large or powerful enough to overcome the demands of saving her?

    This thought does trigger a memory, just a small comment from Mr. Weinstein. But it is probably not news to anyone here, especially for those who interacted with the thirty colonists who were onboard the ship. With a disaster of this magnitude, should a population's general attitude even matter? Still...

    "I--I do not know whether--that is--" When she falters, Kylah's hands slip beneath the table to press her abdomen, literally forcing the words out. "I found them to be cheerful and very admiring of Starfleet. But Mr. Weinstein--the council president--he told us that the citizens are very independent. They wish to be left alone. I suppose that much is obvious, but..."

    Her hesitations disgust her. There is no time for her doubts. She stiffens her spine and speaks more clearly. "He specifically said they are very averse to being a burden on anyone else. I know it is hard to imagine such extreme pride with so many children and families at grave risk. But if they know we too are in danger, we might meet resistance and..."

    This time her pause is one of trying to articulate a psychological phenomenon she has both seen personally and learned about at the Academy. "They might even develop a dynamic of--of obligatory mutual sacrifice. Even martyrdom. Such emotions and beliefs can be almost infectious. A form of group hysteria. So I--I think we must ensure that they know it is our sworn duty to help them. That they are not a burden in any way."

    She falls silent but shakes her head to indicate that she has nothing else to add. It is difficult to meet Captain Singh's gaze.
    Last edited by choie; 12 Jan 2019 at 07:58 PM.

  6. #1256
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    The Captain nods thoughtfully. "Thank you, Mr. Kylah. I'll keep that in mind."

  7. #1257
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    Graham shakes his head and forces out a quiet "No, ma'am." After the briefest pause he adds, "Er, forty some-odd security personnel planet-side, Captain. They may need out help for...managing the evacuation."

    He realizes his left hand, at his side, is shaking. He forces it still, hoping no one noticed. He's trapped by the stupidity of the statement "I'd do anything to keep Marala safe."

    Like fight a sun or commandeer a shuttle that won't make it out of the kill zone, genius?

    There's no "thing to be done" he can see.

    He turns to St. Croix. "Ensign, pass the order, all Security personnel on alert immediately. One hundred percent."

    That's something, futile as it feels.

    "Chief, Doctor..." he adds, glancing at others in the room. "I've seen combat injury cases put on ice or into induced comas for interplanetary transport under rough conditions...could we get more out of life support with cryo or sedation or...something?" He's reaching. To get everybody out that would mean quintupling (or more) the ships' capacity.

  8. #1258
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    The enormity of the situation grips Rangin tight, so many people soon to be no more. A chilling choice that someone would have to make.

    But...but...this is a starship. Filled with the best minds around and already they seemed to have given up hope of doing anything more than rescuing what they think get can.

    But 8,000 people - where would they go. 1,200 seemed to be some limit. But that was Cheverez thinking like some following the rules. 400 people, at least 200 cabins, each of which could take 10 if they squeezed in. That is 2,000 people. Mess halls, the gym, a drsined swimming pool, even corridors and little by little you could fit them in.

    Rangin is reminded of the various animal transports that sometimes operated. Packing creatures in to every last nook and cranny. Miserable, a massive breach if ethics...but alive.

    Also the colony was sealed and had equipment for breathable atmosphere, could some of those be of use.

    "Ma'am," he volunteers, "I think we can do better than 1,200."

  9. #1259
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    Dr. Villa nods ruefully. "Not a bad idea, Mr. Graham, but we only have three cryobeds in Sickbay. They're technically complex and making a lot more in so short a time is going to be a problem; they also draw power that we'll need for an already-overburdened life support system. And I don't want to sedate anyone for a week, let alone hundreds of people."

    The Captain says to Rangin, "I'm all ears, Ensign."

  10. #1260
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    Rangin nods as the Captain addresses him. His nerves start to jangle as he now has to make good on his comment and we are that everyone in the room would be looking at him.

    "Ma'am, the scenario we are going to create, or most appropriate analogy, is a cave-in. If I can explain, it's a lot of people trapped in a small area with limited air. It is something the colony will be very familiar with..."
    ...not to mention, something Rangin is familiar with as well as certain memories of his home planet begin to spill into the here and now.

    "We have enough room to hold all 8,000 people if you look hard enough. If you drained the swimming pool itself, you could stand a lot of people in the space. Not to mention, the gym area, cargo bays, mess halls, arboretum and so on. It would be miserable and uncomfortable for any length of time, but not dead."

    Rangin takes a deep breath and marshalls his thoughts about the life support. "The colony below is sealed off and generates it's own air. If we can add some of their capability to our own, not to mention create as many tanks of oxygen as possible, we can rescue more people. Also, Mr Graham is on the right lines..."

    Rangin stops as he just realises what he said, but he pushes on regardless. "If people are calm, still and spend their time doing as little as possible then they will use less air over a longer period of time. Wrap them warmly and you can lower the temperature, save some energy on heating. As I mentioned earlier, a cave-in scenario the settlers should know about."

    "There is just one question I have. Once the radiation has passed, will the colony be habitable again?" Rangin looks across at Roble for an answer he hopes will be beneficial.

    "What I am aiming at is, how far do we need to go to avoid to radiation and can we return to the colony after it, which might be a few hours, instead of the longer journey to a starbase?"

  11. #1261
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    Singh says, "One silver lining of our situation, if you can even call it that, is that rho radiation doesn't move faster than the speed of light. So we can leave the system at just a little over Warp 1 before the burst occurs, and still stay safely ahead of the wavefront. And it will grow less lethal the farther it travels." She thinks for a moment and does some calculations on her data pad. "The minimum safe distance for stopping, if we did, at a point where our shields could handle the remaining radiation, would be at least 80 AU out from Eta Ophiuchi A - about twice the average distance of Pluto from the Sun."

    She looks at Roble, who adds, "Depending on the intensity of the burst, the colony - indeed, almost the entire star system - will be dangerously radioactive and uninhabitable for at least a year. It could be much longer."

    Cheverez shakes his head and says unhappily, "We certainly have room for 8,000 people, Mr. Rangin, extraordinarily tight and uncomfortable as that would be. But that many people would crash our life-support system within hours, no matter where we put them, no matter how much we lower the ambient temperature, and no matter how calm and still they are."

    "Do you think...." Coimbra begins to say.

    The Chief Engineer charges on. "And then where would we put any LS equipment we beam up from the colony? It's not at all compact, even assuming we could disassemble it, beam it up or bring it by shuttle, adapt it and then get it working in the few hours we have left. No. I wish it were otherwise, but the ship's LS system just isn't designed for anywhere near that many people - their O2 needs, their CO2 output, their water and food needs, their excretory output, their body heat, and so on. Even 1,200 will be pushing it, and not without some degree of risk."

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Astronomical_unit
    https://www.universetoday.com/44534/...-from-the-sun/
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 15 Jan 2019 at 01:34 AM.

  12. #1262
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    Kylah listens and watches in silence. Lt. Graham's ideas made sense to her, from what she could follow; Dr. Villa's reaction nearly made Kylah speak up--she literally bit her tongue to prevent herself from expressing her distaste for the doctor's dismissal.

    Villa is unwilling to sedate people for a week because of some possible medical damage. And so they should consign thousands of people to certain death?

    But Kylah said nothing, because challenging a department head is suicide and she is already in a tenuous position. Instead Velir speaks up with an astonishing array of ideas. She cannot help turning to him, searching his face and again admiring the intelligence she has always respected. His plans are ambitious and varied. Admittedly even Kylah wonders at the feasibility of some of them. But it is all mostly over her head, so she is not one to judge. Surely something will be useful?

    No. Again the senior staff shake their heads. Kylah meets Velir's gaze and wishes she could console him: You tried your best, Velir.

    Then she hears Coimbra's soft words and her gaze shifts to him. Though not beside him, she asks with both a gentle murmur and her eyes: "I believe you were going to say something, sir?"

  13. #1263
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    Nathaniel stood and listens to the various ideas bandied about and it only made him realize how dire things are. Someone is going to die, more than half the colonists, maybe even themselves if they didn’t get away fast enough.

    Nathaniel isn’t afraid to die. He’d nearly died or gotten himself killed more than enough times during his time away from Starfleet. However that had been his choice to make, foolish as it was. But what he isn’t going to do is condemn or leave someone else to die. And he couldn’t believe they are actually considering that. Because when you looked at what they are doing, and what is being said that’s exactly what they are considering.

    “Unacceptable.” Nathaniel says before he realizes he is speaking aloud. “it’s all so damned unacceptable.”

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    Coimbra shakes his head. "No. Never mind. The Chief Engineer addressed it."

    Singh grimly says, "I couldn't agree more, Dr. Bennett." She stands. "I'm going to go contact Gov. Voronko. It will probably be the worst call of my career." She looks around the room. "I appreciate the ideas you've had so far; keep them coming, keep brainstorming. Mr. Roble, chair the discussion here, please. If it turns out we can only save some of the colonists, we'll need a way to select them - a lottery of some kind, or something else. Think it through, as quickly as you can. Thank you all. Carry on."

    You all rise as she leaves the room, joining Dr. Bennett, who was already on his feet, and the Science Officer then waves you back into your seats.

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    Still stunned, Kylah watches the Captain leave and, when Roble motions them to sit, is about to when she shakes her head to herself.

    "Sir," she says suddenly, "I wish to request permission to follow the captain. I know I am of little help here. But I--I would like to volunteer my assistance in a different area..."

    She glances down at Lt. Graham, wondering how he is taking all this. Waves of stress are evident but the entire room is full of such agitation and dread, it is hard to refine her senses to his emotions alone.

    Kylah swallows and lifts a hand, helpless. "Please, sir. I am not an engineer, or a scientist, or a security expert. I am no benefit to you. But I know of a way I might be of service, and wish to ask Captain Singh's permission."
    Last edited by choie; 15 Jan 2019 at 03:31 PM.

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    Roble looks surprised, but then nods. "All right, Ensign. Dismissed."

    Out in the corridor, as the conference room doors whoosh shut behind her, Kylah can just see the Captain's back as she turns a corner.

  17. #1267
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    Kylah's short legs leap forward as quickly as her tired muscles can manage. It is fortunate that the ship's C.O. herself is not that much taller than she--although the older woman's stride always has a great sense of purpose.

    "Captain Singh?" she calls while attempting to catch up. Her voice is something between a shout and a plea. "May I speak with you?"

    Afraid that the Captain will shut her down before her idea even gets considered, Kylah breaks protocol and begins before receiving permission, while still rushing forward.


    "Ma'am, I wish to volunteer to go back down to the planet. I know--" Kylah breaks off to grab a breath. "I-I know there will be many of us going back planetside to help, but I--"

    She is nearly beside the Captain and she can slow down. Her face is warm with effort and nerves. "I think someone from Starfleet, from the Yorktown, should be present while you inform the Governor. To prove that we are not going anywhere until possibilities of assistance have been exhausted. To truly show the flag, as you called it earlier. At least... what the flag stands for."

    Kylah looks soberly at Singh and her tone is quiet. "And I was with the Governor the longest."

    Hoping the Captain will give due consideration, she adds a hurried reassurance: "I would say nothing untoward, make no undue promises. Only that we will be doing all we can to assist them. I will back up whatever you say, ma'am."
    Last edited by choie; 16 Jan 2019 at 03:57 AM.

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    Singh stops and looks at Kylah. She seems bemused. "I was going to call the Governor, not beam down to see him. I appreciate your offer to help, but have no reason to think he'll doubt my sincerity, or my commitment to save as many people as we can." She thinks a moment. "But if you think it would do some good, certainly, come along, Ensign."

    The Captain leads the young Elasian officer to her office, and gestures for her to take a seat. The Captain takes the seat behind her desk, turning the comm panel so that Kylah can see it and be seen, and calls the Governor.

    "Captain!" Voronko says. "It's good to see you again - and hello, Ens. Kylah. Thank you both for your assistance in bringing the new colonists here, and the equipment and supplies too, of course. We enjoyed the visit from you, Lt. Graham and your shipmates."

    "You're welcome, Governor," Singh says. "I'm sorry to say this is not a social call, however. I have some very bad news for you, and for your colony, and time is of the essence." She proceeds to concisely and sympathetically explain the situation.

    Voronko is clearly surprised and appalled. At first he is speechless but finally stammers, "Dear God, what will we do? What can you do?"

    "We've been discussing that, sir, with great urgency...."

  19. #1269
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    Kylah is mortified at being so completely misunderstood, but the captain gave her no time to explain. Now she is once again in a position where she is of no help, not to mention probably seeming as if she pushed herself into some equal position with the captain.

    But there is nothing to be done: instead of being on the planet with the Vorenkos to provide some emotional support, Kylah can only be a miserable, impotent witness.

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    The Captain and the Governor talk for several more minutes before Voronko, clearly still shaken, begs off to talk with his advisors. He and the Yorktown's commanding officer both promise to keep in close touch.

    Closing the channel, Singh thinks for a moment and then turns to Kylah. "Thank you, Ensign. Go the Bridge and relieve Mr. Thalen at the Communications console. My compliments to him and Mr. Onn, and ask them both to come here, if you please."

    On the Bridge, Vargas is in the big chair, looking unusually solemn. The reddish-orange arc of Novy Rostov fills the lower half of the main viewscreen, giving no hint of the dire threat the far-below colony faces just hours from now. Lts. Onn and Bennett are at the Helm and Nav, respectively, while Lt. Thalen at Communications, Lt. Lars Dahlquist at Engineering, the botanist Lt. JG Faith Ngaka at Science and Ens. Faisal Mahmoud at Security round out the Bridge duty roster.

  21. #1271
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    After a deferential nod toward Lt. Thalen, Kylah heads toward Cmdr. Vargas; she does not know how much the others are aware of the impending disaster, but the First Officer certainly does.

    "Sir, I have just come from Captain Singh," she says in a near monotone. "She wishes for Lt. Thalen and Lt. Onn to report to her immediately; I am to relieve Lt. Thalen. If that is acceptable to you." She adds the last words simply because she is not sure what Vargas thinks of her--if he thinks of her at all, although the few times they have had any interaction starting with their initial meeting, he has never seemed particularly pleased to have her onboard. Kylah cannot blame him, and thus feels that Vargas should have his choice of a better officer on the Bridge with him, if he chooses.

    In front of her, over at the Helm and Nav station, Lt. Onn has turned her head slightly ever since Kylah mentioned her name, sending a surprised glance in Kylah's direction. But Kylah's attention remains on Cmdr. Vargas,

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    Cmdr. Vargas seems distracted for a moment, almost lost in a reverie, but then he focuses on Kylah. "What? Yes, of course. Thank you, Ensign. Mr. Onn, Mr. Thalen, report to the Captain in... her office?" Kylah nods. "Her office. Mr. Kylah, take your post, and call for a relief Helm officer."

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    After a quick "Yes, sir," Kylah turns back to Lt. Thalen and the familiar Comms panel. She takes her seat, but before her superior officer leaves, she murmurs, "Sir--if there is anything I can do to assist you in... whatever the Captain wishes... I would be glad of the opportunity."

    Her fingers automatically access the Library Computer to see who is next on the Helm rotation list. It is Lt. Guillaume Vaudreuil,* and she will contact him after Lt. Thalen responds (assuming he does--otherwise, she calls Vaudreuil right away).



    * Instructions for how Kylah would find a relief Helm officer courtesy of Elendil's Heir.

  24. #1274
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    Thalen pauses before he gets on the turbolift, saying, "Thank you, Mr. Kylah. I will certainly let you know, if so." The Andorian officer leaves with Lt. Onn.

    Vaudreuil responds, "On my way." He soon enters the Bridge, nods to Vargas and takes his seat. Kylah can just hear him whisper to Bennett as he settles in, "What's going on? There are a million rumors flying around."

  25. #1275
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    "With all due respect, sirs," Graham says, glancing at Rangin for a moment and wondering how the hell it's possible he's backing up Rangin of all people.

    "I understand your concerns but if the bottom line is everybody left behind dies, and an alternative option is 50 percent--or even 100 percent--of them die but we gave them a chance at survival, even the most outlandish chance is worth trying. If we could pack and stack some folks in medically induced comas strapped to mine-rescue respirators..." He shakes his head. "Maybe they'll die anyway. But it's at least a shot." He clears his throat. "Mr. Rangin or Dr. Bennett would know better than me if anything like that is the least bit possible...but if the alternative is certain death..."

  26. #1276
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    "I wondered that myself," Roble says, turning again to Dr. Villa. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, as the saying goes. What is the least-bad mass-sedation option we have to maximize the number of people we can rescue?"

    The Chief Medical Officer looks very reluctant. "I just don't know. I've never heard of it being done. The risk of death or brain damage is not inconsiderable." She rubs her hands nervously together. "Maybe Dr. Bennett and I had better confer...?"

    "Please do," Roble says. "Any other thoughts, suggestions, options from anyone else?"

    Dr. Villa stands, looks at Nathaniel and tilts her head towards the door. She starts to leave.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 18 Jan 2019 at 12:18 AM.

  27. #1277
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    Once the turbolift has cleared the Bridge, Nia turns to Thalen beside her. "Okay, can you tell me what's happening? I've heard a lot of chatter behind me, especially before the Captain left, and Vargas looks like--well, grimmer than usual.

    "The landing party's back up, so it doesn't sound like they ran into trouble down there--which might be a first for your junior officer--but we should've left orbit long before now..."

    Nia pauses, realizing that due to anxiety she can't even explain, she's talking at impulse speed. Her scales are even prickling her back and shoulders. She takes a deep breath. "Sorry, I don't mean to harangue you. Just...what is all this? What are we headed for?"
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 18 Jan 2019 at 04:13 AM.

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    Thalen seems about to speak, but thinks better of it and says, "I'm sorry, Nia, but I'm not supposed to say. Better the Captain tells you."

    Soon you find yourselves in her office on Deck 2. She invites you to sit down and tells you everything the landing party already knows about the Novy Rostov crisis. She then says, "Mr. Thalen, I'd like to discuss this with you further. If you have any questions, Mr. Onn, I'll do my best to answer them. Otherwise, given your race's experience with a somewhat similar situation, I'd like you to go to Conference Room 1 and join the discussion already underway there, led by the Science Officer. I'm sure they could use your good counsel."

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    The rule of three runs through Rangin's mind. Strange how something similar seemed to develop on all planets to some degree.

    "3 Minutes, 3 Days, 3 Weeks." he intones, as though he is reciting some piece of ancient lore, "Air, water and food. If we can get assistance in the next 2 days, the only thing we need worry about is making sure there is enough oxygen for all but the youngest, elderly and infirm."

    Looking back across to the Doctors and alongside them Graham. "I can't really help much on safe ways to medically induced a lot of people into deep sleep or comas for short periods of time. Most of my knowledge tends to be more along making sure the right anti-toxin is used when something poisonous bites."

    He looks across at the Engineering Chief and nods in agreement at the scale of the challenge, "Sir, I know it's a big ask, but that is what we have to make a miracle of. We need a machine either capable of extracting large amount of CO2 from the air or photosynthesising it with hydrogen and light like a plant does. Just on a much larger scale."

    Rangin looks quizzically across at Cmdr Roble, “Sir, just to confirm but blowing up the stellar mass or forcing it to release the rho radiation all in a different direction are not options are they?”

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    The Chief Engineer shakes his head. "All of my LS systems staff are working on this, and so far they don't have any miracles to report - or likely to come in the next few hours."

    Roble says, "Not a bad idea, Mr. Rangin, if farfetched. Dr. Sabeel and I talked about that. He doesn't see any way to do it - this is a star we're talking about, after all - and neither do I."

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    Nia jogs quickly to reach the conference room, sober-faced and doing her best to keep personal memories at bay. Which is hard, considering her memories and experiences are precisely why she's been yanked off Helm and thrust into the path of a disaster.

    She's also busy calculating, from what she remembers of the Captain's description. They're prepared to leave a quarter of these people down there. Not out of malice, just gruesome--and necessary--pragmatism. And the mention of a lottery...

    It's Sidonia in slow motion. Sidonia's version of a lottery was--is--officially called simply "Selection," but others more bitterly refer to it as "Culling." The difference in its name depends on which fate you're given: Escape and life off-planet, or--if you're deemed inferior--poisoning and death back on the ground.

    She shakes her head free of the distraction. This is not Sidonia. It is worse: Novy Rostov, eight-thousand souls terrifyingly facing annihilation mere hours away.

    The door opens and she catches the very end of Ensign Rangin's words, followed by Cheverez and Roble. She stands there for a few moments, not wanting to interrupt, while her eyes scan the group to take them in. Her gaze hesitates for just an extra second on Booker, his skin pale but eyes intense, and then lands on Roble. This place should be packed with engineers. Why such a tiny group?

    "Excuse me, sir," she says, words clipped short. "The Captain wanted me to join you. My planet's dying much slower, but I've witnessed evacuations all my life, helped my parents engineer and organize a few, so I guess she thought I might be of use."

    With a slight shake of her head, she notes the empty seat between Rangin and Booker--Ensign Kylah's, presumably. Nia slides into it, intending to remain silent until she catches up with whatever suggestions have occurred since the Captain left.

    She can't help adding a nod at Booker, as well. Having met these people, the landing party must feel even more deeply connected to the high stakes in play here. Booker certainly seems to be, under the thick shield of strength and professionalism.
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 18 Jan 2019 at 11:25 PM.

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    Roble says, "Welcome, Lieutenant. Please have a seat." He briefly recaps the various proposals and ideas floated so far.

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    As he steels himself for the insuing conversation, Nathaniel takes a deep breath and follows Dr. Villa.

    “So I guess we’re supposed to come up with some crazy medical technique to save the day?” Nathaniel asks.

    Though he isn’t sure what that would be. Insane surgical methods, new and unheard of he can do. And had done . But this... this might be beyond his capabilities. And he hates admitting it, even to himself.

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    Dr. Villa smiles ruefully. "Something like that, Doctor." She leads him to her Sickbay office, and gestures for him to take a seat. She leans back in her own and laces her fingers behind her head. "How are we going to do this? Can we do this?"

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    Graham leans slightly in Nia's direction as she sits. "It's good to see you," he whispers. It's both sincerely felt and like dragging nails across his lungs to get the words out at the same time.

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    Booker's welcome can't get the response he deserves, but under the table, Nia gently pats Book's thigh in affectionate gratitude. She's still absorbing all she's just heard.

    "My recommendation aligns with the guys on either side of me. Make as much room as possible and cram people in, then use as few resources as possible to sustain both the living onboard and the necessary ops of the ship."

    She stares at the her hands, which now rest on the table. "My planet's a long way from our nearest neighbor--the only one with the same atmosphere. Our tech is laughably rudimentary compared to Starfleet's, and the Yorktown has far better scientists and engineers. And maybe it's hard to compare situations, because our biology is different from most of yours. We evolved into beings that could survive on as little sleep, air and food as possible. The evac ships we built were basically hollow shells. No seats, no cargo except the travelers, and the bare minimum of food--people can survive on quarter-rations for the eleven-day trip. Water's the most important supply. But it always is, even on Sidonia itself."

    Nia's right shoulder shrugs. "So we'll have to do the same. If the doctors and bioscientists like Rangin here can come up with a safe-as-possible form of, well, suspended animation or stasis or coma... then it's up to the the engineers to calculate just how low we can push the LS and flight-necessary ops for the bulk of the ship."

    She nods at the convened crewmates around the table. "I'm sure you've already planned this, but we should use a skeleton crew to run the ship during this time. Since we'll need our wits about us, we can seal off the doors of the various workspaces and bump up the LS for those areas. Even then they should be the bare minimum. We can be fitted out with EVA suits for the duration. Separate breathing tanks won't put any stress on the ship. Hell, I don't even need oxygen; I've got my own breathing tank."

    The thought of the EVAs reminds her of some of the thoughts she had earlier.

    "We should also dump as much unnecessary cargo as possible. Lighten the load on the ship and add more space for people. In fact... we can get rid of the biggest cargo we carry, and use it as well."

    She turns to Cheverez. "The shuttles. If we fill all our shuttles with as many of the crew as possible, and minimum rations, and order them to leave the second they're ready, will they make it out of the blast zone? Because that gets at least... what, 60 folks, out of our hair. Assuming we push twelve into each shuttle--and I think they can take more. And this'll also empty the shuttlebays, which frees up a helluva lot of space. Then we can all meet up at some point and travel together. The shuttles are more efficient than the ship itself, and there's less energy to conserve."

    Nia counts on her fingers. "So... more cargo to remove... Eat all the 'real' food that Andy Johnson saves for you senior officers and patients in Sickbay. It frees up space and it means we can shut down the refrigerator units and whatever other energy the kitchens take up. Plus, if we do it now, we can let digestion do its job and hopefully by the time we leave the crew will have excreted as much as possible--and the ship can process it all before we go. After that, it's replicated food only on an as-needed basis. Protein bars. We don't want to overtax the replicators."

    With a scowl, Nia focuses on Roble again. "As far as helping to process the CO2 and take a little load off the LS... okay this is just weird, but is there anything being used in the botany department that might be useful?" She sighs. "I wish those damn domes could be stacked on top of each other. But I suppose they wouldn't do much against the blast even if it were possible."

    Another shrug, and a shake of her head. "That's what I've got so far. Except to say that people can survive surprisingly well at 75%. To be honest, that's where I am for about twelve hours every two days, when my Bilitrum level is running low and it's time for me to refuel. And I don't think anyone's noticed me slacking off." She smiles briefly. "Just saying... don't underestimate how much adrenaline, determination and sheer stubbornness can combine to push the skeleton crew through rough conditions."
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 22 Jan 2019 at 11:29 AM.

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    Roble takes notes as Onn speaks. He says, "Thank you, Lieutenant. Using the shuttles that way definitely has possibilities, at least to get out of the pulse lethality zone, although when and how we bring them back aboard could be problematic. They're not going to be able to support twelve people for six or more days on our way back to Beta Antares IV."

    "It would be quite a bit longer," St. Croix, trained as a shuttle pilot, says. "Their standard cruising speed is Warp 2, and Warp 4 only for short dashes in emergencies. Our plan is to return at Warp 6, isn't it?"

    "True," Cheverez says. "Hmm. We're not carrying any cargo at the moment, but space isn't the biggest issue anyway - rather, it's the burden on our LS systems. My earlier projections were for less than 100% functioning, and perfect comfort, anyway, with all the extra people aboard."

    "Do we even have spacesuits for the entire crew?" Coimbra asks. "I don't remember that ever coming up in training."

    The Chief Engineer nods. "We do, but they're not designed as a closed system to keep anyone alive for more than 72 hours. And when some or all of the crew open their helmets, as they're going to have to do, it's going to add an additional burden on LS." He makes some notes, too. "But I'll look into that."

    "Thank you, Mr. Cheverez," Roble says. "As to botany, were you referring to the Arboretum, Mr. Onn, or something else?"

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    "Arboretum, yes. The place where our botanists work," Nia says with a smile as she flips her palm over. Inwardly she finds it hard to believe anyone would nitpick like that during a crisis.

    "As for the shuttles, that's being very conservative, St. Croix. But okay, let's be conservative. If we need to transfer, have any ships been successfully contacted from Beta Antares? Forgive me if you mentioned this, I've got a lot to process in ten minutes." She takes a deep breath in thought. "The relief ships would need to meet us halfway there--and by 'there' I mean whatever point is equidistant from the planet to us."

    She turns to Roble. "Sir, I understand your caution, but we've all done drills--at least, we did on my previous ships--where we mocked-up a disaster that 'killed' a majority of the crew. The rest of us, I think we got it down to about fifty--twenty-five per watch--had to handle things on our own."

    For a second her intense gaze flickers toward Cheverez. C'mon, Chief, you know we're up for this. Using the best and toughest on the ship? I've watched you train even the greenest ensign to be sharp as a tack.

    Then she returns to the science officer.

    "...And the skeleton crew did fine. It wasn't for as long as seven days, but it worked. These ships have a lot of redundancies--Cmdr. Cheverez, you'll back me up on that--and if we're shutting down all extraneous activity and keeping a close eye on how the active crew is faring, the Yorktown team should do fine too. Probably better."

    She pivots to Cheverez and Coimbra, the latter of whom is very attractive but apparently not a great listener, and he successfully threw Cheverez off too. Her words are aimed at the latter.

    "Sir, my apologies: I don't think I was clear enough." Ugh. She hates being tactful. "Mr. Coimbra, we don't need four-hundred-and-whatever EVA suits all at once, because my proposal is that we don't need all four-hundred and whatever officers. Just the bare bones that can take a ship from point A to point B.

    "If we use fifty officers, or whatever the number is, that's just fifty suits. And we don't even need to use them until the first watch of this skeleton crew start feeling symptoms due to the lower LS output. They revive themselves for a while, then sleep, and then back to work, while the other watch takes over in the opposite schedule. And once each EVA runs out, we have 350 remaining to choose from that'll serve as backups. I mean... that's seven days right there."

    Turning, Nia looks around the table, trying to encourage this group. "Honestly, it's possible. I do this every two days." She catches herself nodding to Book, almost as if wanting him to back her up, but that'd probably be inappropriate.

    She goes on. "Humans, Andorians, Vulcans, even the Skorr--I doubt I have that much evolutionary advantage over you all. Mr. Rangin," she says suddenly, "You're the xenobiologist here. Are our various races able to handle a stricter level of life support for a little over a week, given the boost every eight or so hours from backup EVA suits?"

    Before he has a chance to answer, she swivels back to the senior officers: "Will it be risky? Yes. Will it be fun? No... well, maybe; the skeleton crew might feel a certain bond of pride. But most of all, will it work? I think so."

    She pauses and tilts her head before adding a coup de grace in an almost offhand manner: "The Enterprise would've done it. And I think her chief engineer would've leapt at the chance to show what his team can do."

    No Chief Engineer lacks a certain competitive streak, and besting (or at least equaling) the ingenuity and skills of the legendary Montgomery Scott is the ultimate challenge.
    Last edited by choie; 23 Jan 2019 at 12:32 AM.

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    “I don’t know.” Nathaniel admits. “But what I do know is that any thing less than everyone leaving this place without being melted by radiation is the only acceptable solution. I didn’t get into this to leave people to their deaths.”

    Nathaniel could not even bear the thought of not saving everyone, not after all he’d been through, all he’d seen before he’d left Starfleet and in the last couple of years. He’d lost so much. He couldn’t have this loss on his conscience.

    “Knowing Starfleet as I do, there is no way they’re leaving anybody behind.” Nathaniel says. “So our task is to make sure everyone survives the trip. We can’t have everyone taking up ship resources so most likely a majority of the passengers will be put in some sort of statis or coma or something. Our task is to make sure the passengers can survive the trip.”

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    Cheverez says, a little testily, "We can certainly do anything the Enterprise can, Mr. Onn, but we also can't accomplish the impossible." He punches data into his tablet, makes some alterations, does it again and looks over the results. "Even doing everything you suggest, I just can't see how we're going to be able to save eight thousand people without running a very serious risk of killing everyone, including all of those already aboard this ship." Onn can see he's frustrated and under considerable stress.

    Roble says calmly, "Take it easy, Ed. We should be getting responses soon from other ships in the region that might be able to help. Given the colony's remoteness, having them meet us along the line of our course back to Beta Antares IV makes sense; that'll save time and reduce the burden on ship's systems. Good idea, Lieutenant." He frowns. "But I'm sorry, I don't understand - while we're on skeleton crew, what would the rest of the crew be doing? Just lying quietly, to reduce the LS burden?"

    In Sickbay, Dr. Villa says thoughtfully, "Very well, Dr. Bennett. Get on the Library Computer and check the Medical archives. See if you can find any earlier examples of mass sedation to stretch life support resources - by Starfleet, or by anyone else. I'll look into the best drug regimen under the circumstances, and run some projections for shipboard pharmacological synthesis."

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    Graham can't help but feel proud as he follows the conversation. And a little bemused. Why is Nia wasting her time with a clod like me, he thinks, seeing her fully engaged in trying to solve this intractable problem.

    When there's a pause he shakes his head. "I don't have anything to contribute about figuring some of this stuff out--" He pauses. "But I can guarantee you..." He glances from officer to officer. "Tell us the odds of survival of any possible way you can come up with to clear some space for civilians on the ship--50/50, worse, whatever, call it like it is--and you'll still have volunteers from Security." His last glance is toward Nia. Not the place or time to tell her about Marala or her son. Or that that's what's on his mind making that commitment.

  42. #1292
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    Rangin addresses the group. "I don't think anyone is underestimating just how difficult, perhaps insane is a better word, what we are going to attempt to do is."

    He turns across to Lt Onn, to answer the question she posed. "Ma'am, In terms of physiology, there are several species who would be better able to survive the kind of atmosphere, but as the majority of the crew and nearly all those planetside are human, we have some fairly strict parameters to deal with...and, unfortunately, this also means that topping them up every so often is not really going to help. It would be more likely every few minutes, not a couple of times a day."

    He thinks a little further, "It's almost a shame they don't have a self contained unit that could hold eight thousand people that we could tow out the way. Or even a way to protect them on the planet. Enhance a shield and leave it in place." He shrugs, "It's not like they don't have enough dilithium there to power it."

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    Nia is taken aback by Cheverez's response at first, but the reality of this situation is so grim that anyone with a heart would be clouded by it, overwhelmed by the vastness of the task. Seeing him that upset manages to upset her, takes the wind out of her sails.

    To Roble's question about what the rest of the crew would be doing while the skeleton crew runs the ship, she nods. "Same as the guests, sir. However the docs decide to knock the civilians out."

    Booker chimes in and for the first time--maybe because of her rapidly diminishing hope--Nia almost lets her jaw fall open at his idea of Security, of anyone, sacrificing themselves. And it's clear by his expression, the rigid set of his jaw, the pulsing vein visible at his temple, and above all his eyes... he would do it.

    Her hand on the table twitches with the instinct to clasp his wrist, to ask him what the fuck he's thinking. Another instinct is to tear off her uniform and screw him senseless, not just because she's wanted to for a while, not just because circumstances are dire, but because such bravery and selflessness are the most attractive qualities Nia has ever seen in a man.

    She can't speak privately to him, she can't grasp his hand in front of the others, and the last option is, obviously, out of the question.

    All Nia does is search his eyes while he speaks. When their eyes meet, she lets him see her admiration, fear, confusion, awe... whatever she can convey in a single look.

    Ensign Rangin responds next, and so she has to tear her gaze away. "Okaaay, so my idea of extending the life of each suit is out. But that wasn't a necessary tactic anyway. Fifty active crew members, three hundred and fifty extra suits. Approximately--we have more than 400 on board, don't we? I'm sorry, I should know this, but I lost track since the last shore leave with all the comings and goings--Sir, what's our current complement?"

    The question is directed at Roble, but she turns back to Rangin while waiting for the reply.
    Last edited by choie; 25 Jan 2019 at 03:22 AM. Reason: admin's prerogative.

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    Roble says, "There are 430 people aboard the Yorktown now."

    "Actually, 431, including Mrs. Kostoyev, sir," St. Croix puts in. "Her family already beamed down, but she's still in Sickbay."

    Roble's shoulders sag a little. "That's right. Thank you, Ensign. Another complication."

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    Nia's eyes narrow with her frown as she ponders this news. The transfer to the hospital was supposed to take place right away. If it takes them this long to transfer one person, it doesn't give her much hope of any technical assistance from the colony. Well, maybe only the hospital's medical staff is inefficient. Wouldn't be the first bunch of idiots we've come up against.

    "Okay," Nia says thoughtfully. "Thank you, sir; St. Croix. 431 then. But let's say we ship off the shuttles, tightly but not too overstuffed. That'll get us down below 400 for sure. And that's all we need." She pokes her fingers on her palm, as if counting manually, while still focusing on Rangin--hoping he'll agree with her.

    "'Cause if we're talking at least 350 spare suits with a lifespan of three days... our 50-person skeleton crew can swap used suits for new ones seven times. As long as 21 days. That's way over the expected length of this journey, even if we do have to reduce speed once we're out of blast range."

    Licking her lips, Nia scans the table at the others. "So... can we keep that on the table as an option? Even if it means we can't... if we can't take on as many evacuees as there should be... maximizing the number we can save is better than..."

    The thought makes her ill and she shakes her head. For most of her younger years, she was in the position of being left behind. Now she must see this from the opposite perspective.

    "Mother of air," she mutters. "it's not only a tragedy for the victims. I'm not sure how crew morale will take such a decision."

    But mulling this over won't help. She shifts in her chair to reboot her thoughts. "Um... anyway... it'd also help to know if these colonists have their own suits. Did they mention that? I guess they must, if they ever go outside the domes. Can anyone from the landing party confirm that?" She sends her inquiring gaze around the table at Coimbra, St. Croix, Booker and Rangin.
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 25 Jan 2019 at 10:21 PM.

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    None of the landing party know, but Cheverez says quietly, "I already looked into that. The colony has about 2,000 suits in all, almost all of them for prospecting and mining on the surface. Hardly any of them are rated for use over ten hours."

    Roble says, "I'm afraid we may have to proceed on the assumption that we can't save everyone. Thinking of the worst-case scenario, how would we select those whom we evacuate and those whom... we don't?"

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    Graham scowls and rubs his chin. "Whatever the selection scheme is, it has to be something a majority of the colonists will comply with voluntarily. With 8,000 people in play, if there's unrest or resistance, it will get ugly fast trying to keep order and keep things moving smoothly, even with the entire combined Security forces from Yorktown and the colony."

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    Nathaniel leaves for his office, sits down at his computer and immediately gets to work. He doesn't know what he might find in the medical archives, but he hopes to find something, anything that might give them some hope.

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    Roble says, "Yes, thank you, Mr. Graham. I intend to recommend to the Captain that we make our Security personnel available to the Governor, as you mentioned earlier."

    Dr. Bennett can find only two examples of mass sedation being tried in similar situations. The Federation colonists on Horne IV, a planetoid with a mostly-chlorine atmosphere, did so in desperation almost 70 years ago when their LS systems failed and rescuers couldn't reach them for almost a month. Only 17 out of 233 colonists survived, and several of them had irreparable brain damage.

    The crew of the merchant starship Spirit of Syracuse also tried it 24 years ago when they crash-landed on an airless moon, their LS system damaged and their subspace communications transmitter destroyed. None of the 38 crew were still alive by the time the wreck was found three months later.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 27 Jan 2019 at 11:37 PM.

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    Regardless of what is being suggested, it seems that it is coming back round to having to make a choice. It seems the USS Yorktown isn't the shining beacon of hope he is expecting it to be, more a bland, by whim, outfit who is now asking them to make a choice that should really have been for the senior officers. Or, being frank about it, going back to Starfleet regulations, which would undoubtedly have a passage or two of scripture and verse for the situation.

    He thinks back to his Academy days and tries to remember if he had ever been taught about this. Handling it on a personal level, well everyone went through that little scenario, but something planet-wide, this was the Captain's and the Governor's call, not theirs.

    But still he is being asked...

    "Women and children first, I believe is the outdated saying." he closes his eyes and thinks back over what he knows. Not Starfleet doctrine, but what he grew up with, what makes sense to him. He can almost taste the ashes in his mouth as he continues, knowing that every word damns one person and saves another. "Children aged five to sixteen with one parent: the parent can choose which of them should accompany and which stays. Check for anyone with dependents off planet, they go next, youngest to oldest. Then, age ascending order upwards."

    He looks around the room, knowing the first question they will all ask. "No children under five. You want ruthless and a line, there's your line. Life is harsh and unfair. This needs to be as fast and simple as possible. Adding babies is a complexity that we don't need if we go this way."

    "Well. There's your opening line," Rangin spits out in disgust, at himself, at those around the room and the universe in general for forcing him to utter those words. He sits back and waits for the opprobrium to flow his way for being the only one to say something.

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