Star Trek RPG - Mission #6: "Marala"

[Elendil's Heir]

After a long silence, Coimbra says, "Women and children first does seem outdated these days, although it's certainly a time-honored approach. But having couples, I mean, pairs of parents, decide which of them lives and which dies... that's tough. Not every couple shares power or decision-making authority equally, you know? It could be the meek dying and not inheriting the Earth, or Novy Rostov, under the circumstances." He shows a short, painful smile.

Cheverez muses, "No children under age five... hmm. I hate to say it, but if we don't just use a random lottery, that might have to be the kind of terrible line that we draw."

"There must be a better way," St. Croix says.

[general_urko]

Graham's not sure his jaw could clench any harder. Just when Rangin starts to sound reasonable he offers something so ghoulish it takes him a minute to figure out what to say.

Thank goodness for St. Croix.

"With all due respect," he says quietly, bringing his emotions under control. "The criteria we set won't matter if they cause the whole operation to go to shit in the first five minutes..." He clears his throat. "'Rip their infant sibling out of a 10-year old's arms' would be a tough order to carry out regardless, but if we've got a mother on her knees beggnig us to take her baby instead of her and out answer is 'no' in front of 8,000 of her friends and neighbors..." He shakes his head. "I don't think any of us wants a critera we can only enforce by using massive force."

[anthonydlangford]

Nathaniel looks at both options. Neither were very good. However, the difference is they wouldn't need to be under sedation nearly as long as either example. So it is at least worth exploring further. Nathaniel knows he needs to work quickly but get all the details before presenting anything to Dr. Villa, not to mention the Captain and about a dozen other people will have their own input. But this is a start. And maybe the best way so far to get everyone out of here alive. He continues researching both attempts and hopes one of them or a combination of both will work.

A sudden stray thought of Joe crosses his mind. Nathaniel pauses and wonders if he would ever see him again. Nathaniel hopes so, especially since they have so much unfinished business. And if they lived through this, maybe they might get to talk about their very messy past. But more important, Nathaniel wants to finish the mission that brought him here. He didn't come this far only to have it end in his own premature death. Yes, someone will be dead when this was all over. But he didn't intend for it to be him.

Finishing up his research he goes to Dr. Villa's office and rings the doorbell.

[Elendil's Heir]

Roble nods ruefully. "Not that all eight thousand would be there watching, but your point is well-taken, Mr. Graham."

"Come," says Dr. Villa.

[SidonianGal]

Nia doesn't know how the discussion turned so quickly from attempting a full rescue to creating some morbid numbers game.

Then Rangin begins deciding who's worth saving and who isn't, all delivered an atypically harsh tone. Well, maybe not so atypical; she's heard him be this icy before, toward Kylah. She stares at him and nearly speaks up--but this close to him, she catches the flinty, resentful stare, the tightened jaw. He doesn't like this turn of conversation any more than she does.

But Roble seems to take him seriously. Nia crosses her arms over her chest, a chill of dread running through her. She glances at Rangin. That's the trouble with sarcasm. You never know when it'll be misunderstood.

And, from Booker...

His hypothetical about a mother and infant causes Nia to close her eyes and exhale--though it comes out as an unintentional soft moan. Hopefully no one heard. It takes her a few seconds to realize the loud buzzing noise that's been annoying her is in her head.

Uncertain whether she can stand looking at anyone present, she blinks and focuses on the table.

"With respect. I understand the need for a contingency plan. It sounds like it'll be the most likely scenario. But... why are we making this decision? It's their colony. If anyone other than their own community leaders should be involved in this choice, it should be at our highest level. Captain Singh. Cmdr. Vargas." Nia finally lifts her gaze. "Not helm officers, xenobiologists and metallurgists. Is that the best we can do for these poor people? These desperate, doomed people?"

The last word is a croak, which is atypical for her, and she swallows in an attempt to loosen her constricted throat. "I'm someone who ended up on the wrong side of the evacuation plan. I should be an irradiated husk by now--or as good as. I watched families make horrifying decisions. Our official scientists had been told to give up, it was no longer worthwhile to attempt a better plan. I thought it was b.s. then and I still do. I'm just saying..."

What is she saying? NIa tightens the arms hugging herself. "I'm saying we have to have some team working on a possible solution. Rangin, you mentioned the domes. Do we know if they're detachable? They were created to sustain 8000 lives. Maybe we could act like a tugboat. What about their mining reserves? I researched things before we got here and they have dilithium--could we use this to boost our power? And--and there was vortonium, which I know's an insulator. Can that be used somehow? I know nothing about rho radiation--is there really nothing that can stop it? We haven't even heard from the med team yet--"

Her voice cuts off and her jaw clenches before she adds: "We can't give up so soon. Not all of us. Cmdr. Cheverez... do you think there's no point at all to searching for a solution? I don't believe it--not yet." Determination turns her gaze to stone. "We need to Kobayashi Maru our way the hell out of this. Kirk-style."

[Elendil's Heir]

Roble says, "The Captain is closely consulting with the Governor, but I believe she's going to declare a planetary emergency and exert Starfleet authority for local crisis management under the Emergency Powers Act. The ultimate decision will be hers. We'll be hearing back from Drs. Villa and Bennett soon, I hope, but otherwise this, the people in this room, is the team the Captain designated for planning."

After a moment, Cheverez leans in and says, "The domes are built on the surface and aren't detachable. They're permanent structures, have no structural bottoms, as such, and were never intended to be moved. I've already run a simulation, and they would come apart under a tractor beam on the ascent within a minute or two, at most, assuming we could even lift them. And unfortunately there's nothing in the colony's mineral stockpile that would be helpful, under the circumstances." He takes a breath. He is calmer now. "Rho radiation is deadly to organic tissue, and the kind of burst we're looking at would penetrate even the Yorktown's shields at full power if we remained in orbit."

Roble folds his hands on the Theban marble tabletop. "We've discussed various scenarios for almost an hour now but none of them seem probable, even likely, in us being able to save all of the colonists. That's why I think we need to consider worst-case scenarios. Are there any other proposals?"

[Rangin]

..and there goes Graham and probably several others missing the point again.

"Proposals?" Rangin offers to Roble's question. "Do they have any giant Ore containers we can adapt instead of the buildings." He is not expecting the answer to be anything other than negative at this point.

"Worst case scenario?" he shrugs sadly, "is we land the USS Yorktown to get people on board, get flooded with desperate people and no-one goes anywhere, crew or miners. About the same level as walking away and leaving them. What you're really asking is how do we neatly manage to separate a set of the colonists and get them on board and do so without undue hostility?"

He looks at the table in front of him not wanting to look at those around. "If the miners are like those I grew up with, death is an ever present danger and they are ready for it. They'll get drunk and while away their last few hours." Looking up, he fixes Graham a glare, "the ones I knew had a very strong community spirit and would do their best for each other, if they knew what was going on. No mother would be force anyone to take their child, they had more pride than that."

"My opinion, tell them and let them choose to do what's best for them."

[SidonianGal]

Nia sits, immobile. All the words settle around her like a cloud of noxious dust.

Nothing she says is feasible; Cheverez has apparently anticipated every possible idea and run every simulation. Well, that's why he's chief. Rangin sounds angry, and she doesn't blame him. Like Nia, he chafes at what seems to be Starfleet's habit of intervening when it suits them. Here they are, about to play the ultimate judge.

Again.

Rangin's mention of infants makes Nia shut her eyes, but at least this time she's better prepared for it, and doesn't allow herself to react in any other way.

If only her scales could shield her on the inside.

The young Coridanite might as well have saved his breath. Nia fully expects his advice--identical to hers--will be just as futile. Her eyes open when he stops, and she flashes a glance of emotionless acknowledgement toward him.

I know. It's horrible. But we can't stop this.

[general_urko]

Just when you might have though Rangin wasn't a sick demented bastard...

Graham sets his hands carefully on the table and blinks before responding.

I volunteer to pitch this sick fuck out an airlock to clear space for some children from the colony, sir.

That's not what he says, although his tone is cold enough to suggest that's what he has in mind.

"I can't claim to be an expert on whther miners are unlike the rest of us, Mr. Rangin, but I do have a daughter."

[SidonianGal]

Booker's voice sounds dangerous; Nia's glad she sits between him and Rangin. But she can't herself: swallowing her emotions, she says softly, "But she's not down on that planet, is she."

It's not a question. And she lifts her head to stare into his eyes, doing her best to remain calm, to hide her anguish, anger and helplessness. "If she were, Lt. Graham, how would you feel if her fate was left to a group of strangers? Strangers put in charge of deciding whether she lives or dies?"

She still faces Booker but aims her words to Roble. "Sir, if we are to make this damnable choice, the only fair option--both for the colonists and those of us who have to live with this on our consciences--is complete randomness. A lottery. One entry per family, none of which will be split up. They live together or they--" Her throat strangles again. "Or they die together."

[Elendil's Heir]

Coimbra shakes his head. "No giant ore containers down there. They mostly store the ore in excavated caverns, down below the surface, before prepping for shipment." He looks around. "Their standard ore containers are only about the size of this room, maybe a little bigger, and lack life support systems."

"We can't land the ship," Cheverez says, sounding a little surprised at the proposal. "Constitution-class ships can't be landed on planets. I presume we'll use the transporters for most if not all of the evacuees; maybe some could be brought up by shuttle."

"And this will be the Captain's decision, as I said." Roble rubs his chin as he mulls over Onn's suggestion. "Preserving families is certainly a worthy goal, but differing family sizes could be an issue. They're obviously not all the same. Somebody's sure to complain that it would favor larger families, or statistically disadvantage unmarried or childless people... not that we don't have bigger problems. But yes, a lottery of some kind might be the way."

In Sickbay, Drs. Villa and Bennett discuss mass sedation and life-support options for several minutes, until she glances at her desktop chrono and says, "Let's get back to the conference room. They're going to want to hear what we've learned." She rises and heads for the door.

[anthonydlangford]

“Hold on a second.” Nathaniel asks. “Is there a reason why you want to talk to the Captain? Did you see something on your screen just now?”

[Rangin]

Rangin's eyes flick from the table straight back to Graham at the mention of his daughter, because Rangin can remember exactly how Graham described how protective he was of his daughter from OCIII. Curfews, constant checking in, total control of her life; but why would it rile him now...unless he had some other personal motive, don't you Boojee. Rangin hadn't considered it before, but if Graham is going to be as bull-headed as usual any hint of impartiality is out of the window and they would have a riot on their hands. Rangin wonders if the same thoughts are going through Roble's head as well.

Rangin is then surprised by the lack of the giant ore containers he knew from Coridan, but it was always a long shot. As for landing the USS Yorktown...well they did ask for the the worst case scenario...and then further talk of a random selection of people to survive.

"I'm sorry I disagree with some random lottery, no matter how well meaning. You're not picking who lives, you're picking who dies. Not to mention you need to get everyone to buy into it, losers will want a rerun in case their number comes up again." He looks across at Roble, although his words are aimed at Graham, "some people will consider it rigged depending on who is saved, even if we know it is not, just because people think that way."

He casts his gaze around the table. "What you are doing is cruel, giving everyone that little glimmer of hope and then snatching it away. I don't think I can look several thousand in the eye afterwards and just shrug away the responsibility of forcing the choice as it is just a lottery. And for those who survive, they'll spend the rest of their lives wondering what if..." Rangin can almost feel the choice made for him, a long time ago in the rain, what if... what if...

Maybe he is as biased as the others round the table, his own experiences colouring his own judgement.

"With that number of people, if you run a lottery it will be chaos and will need force." He looks at Graham, who would no doubt enjoy the opportunity to inflict force in the name of doing the right thing. "Give them a reason a reason to stay behind, to sacrifice themselves for others, a chance to face it head on in the knowledge that they did the right thing..." his voice trails off wondering if he is getting through to the others or if he is just screaming into a darkened, stormy void.

[SidonianGal]

Nia, in the process of massaging her forehead and praying that this will all somehow turn out to be a simulation, hears Rangin's suggestion. She lifts her head to stare at him.

"Rely on upwards of six thousand people to sacrifice themselves? And you think that will somehow produce a result without argument or bloodshed?" Nia grimaces. "You must've grown up in a far more selfless community than I did. They'll be at each other's throats no matter what."

She exhales in frustration and lowers her voice. "Look, I'm with you, Ensign. We've both suggested that this decision should be their own. Those suggestions have been rejected. The choice is Captain Singh's." Her gaze flicks to Cmdr. Roble. "And no, sir, I didn't forget that. When I said 'we' are making a damnable decision, it's because--with great respect--it seems like a distinction without a difference. The captain will be factoring in our recommendation, obviously, or we wouldn't be in here."

Her brow furrows. "About the lottery benefiting large families more than small ones... First, I might be brain-fried but I don't see it. But even if that's true... it's not impossible to overcome such bias. We program our computer to use an algorithm to determine the best configuration of, for example, 1200 additional passengers--and I still think we can push it higher, especially if we fill the shuttles to capacity and get rid of as many excess people that way.

"The algorithm would add weight to smaller or single-person households to make up for the seeming bias toward bigger families. And as the random selections are made, depending on the family size involved, the program would re-calculate the configuration to take into account how much room is left."

Nia runs a tired hand over her eyes. She can't believe she's talking about the math involved in saving lives and leaving the rest to destruction. "Yes, Rangin. We are choosing who dies. Given the parameters we've been set--that allowing these people to choose their own fate isn't on the table--then a random, properly weighted lottery might be the only 'fair' choice."

Her lids blink open so she can look at everyone around the table. "If not fair, at least objective. We have to live with this, but at least leaving it up to the computer takes a tiny bit of the horror out of our hands.

"We're gonna be blamed for bias no matter what, but I hope the survivors understand, eventually, that this isn't true. We don't know these people enough to be biased. Aside from those you guys met on the planet, I assume, but otherwise..." Nia shrugs in resignation and catches Cheverez's gaze. "Setting up a program like this shouldn't be difficult for our sysops, should it?"

[Elendil's Heir]

Cheverez shakes his head. "No. Despite the high stakes, the programming itself should be relatively straightforward."

In Sickbay, Dr. Villa says to Nathaniel, "No, it's just that time is short and I want to be sure they have our input before any final decision is made." She returns with you to Conference Room 1 and you both sit down. Moments later, the doors whoosh open again and the Captain, trailed by Lt. Thalen, the Yorktown's Communications Officer, enters. Everyone stands but she waves you back into your seats.

"Report," Singh says to Roble as she and Thalen take their places at the table. The Science Officer briefs her on the discussion so far, concisely and fairly summarizing the various proposals and their likelihood of success. Singh takes notes on a data pad as he talks.

When Roble finishes, the Chief Medical Officer leans in and says, "My newest colleague has done some quick research as to previous mass sedations in similar emergencies, and I have some thoughts on the subject, too. Dr. Bennett?"

[anthonydlangford]

Nathaniel feels everyone’s eyes turn on him. “To put it simply, there have been two instances where mass sedation was tried. But unfortunately, in both instances, no one survived. But the difference is we would be putting the crew and our guests under sedation for a much less period of time. Given that, I feel it’s an avenue we have to give serious consideration to.”

[general_urko]

Graham shifts uncomfortably. He's surprised Nia recommends a lottery...it rubs him the wrong way depriving people of the chance to choose to give someone their place. And he's deeply worried about Yorktown imposing it's own way on the colony...but it's the Captain's decision...


..about Marala. Not just some colony, an abstract tragedy. Marala.

[Elendil's Heir]

Dr. Villa frowns a little and says, "Actually, in one of the incidents, more than a dozen people survived. Otherwise I agree with Dr. Bennett. Those tragedies were quite awhile ago, and they didn't have access at the time to Somnollin, a more recent and very powerful sedative that can induce a near-comatose state. We don't have very much on board, but we can synthesize more, which I've already ordered. I think we could make enough to sedate perhaps a hundred adults for the six days it would take us to reach Beta Antares IV, with only a negligible additional burden on the ship's life support system."

"Good," says the Captain. "Thank you, Doctor. Mr. Thalen, please update us on the other ships offering assistance."

The Communications Officer checks his data pad. "The scoutship USS Rodgers can be here in just under four days at maximum warp. The Viraat," one of the Yorktown's sister ships, "would be approximately seven hours behind her. The tanker Yashida Hachi Maru, the Vulcan explorer T'Vaa, the liner Moonshadow, the transports Zephyr, Gryphon and Sweet Hannah, and the yacht Easy Peasy are all willing to help but unfortunately are even farther away, and none are as fast as the two Starfleet ships."

"Thank you. If they meet us along our return course to Beta Antares IV, though, depending on their starting points, that will save time - probably crucial time."

"Yes, ma'am," the Andorian says.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calbraith_Perry_Rodgers
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/INS_Viraat

[Rangin]

One hundred extra people. Sedation might save just another one one hundred people out of the eight thousand relying on them. Another one percent of the population. Rangin wondered which one percent would get the privilege.

He still disagrees with a lottery, but it seems others will be overruling him in that respect. He still considers it cruel, but using the computer to randomly pick whole families based and work in something to keep it stable is close enough to his own thoughts that it will not be as random as they think it is. At least Lt Onn, is trying to do soemthing positive, where the others seem fatalistically resigned to the worst outcome.

It's a shame they cannot see the difference between giving people hope and taking it away from them and how the colony will react to it. Well, the Captain had all their ideas, thoughts and arguments and there is now no more to say. The final, fateful decisions are in her hands and all he can do is do his best to save as many as possible.

[SidonianGal]

Nia's pulse rate rises rapidly, along with her hopes, when she hears the doctors' verdict on the medicated coma plan--until Villa goes on to reveal that it'll only add 100 to the total. She exhales her held breath in disappointment, shoulders slumping as well.

But it's still a hundred more survivors, she tells herself after a few seconds. Small as the number is, it will mean everything to those people.

The rationale is some comfort, though again her hopes dim when Thalen reveals the vast distance between the ships and the planet. The nearest and fastest vessel, if it bothered to arrive here, would find no lives to save.

She swallows back her emotions. "And still nothing from the Sarafina? The one ship that's only a few hours away?" Nia can't imagine why the ship isn't responding. The captain sure as hell seemed friendly enough. Maybe there's contraband aboard he's worried about revealing?

A thought strikes her. It's a remote shot and maybe a waste of resources. But damn it, every option should be on the table. There isn't time to be embarrassed about offering a crappy idea, on the off-chance it might actually save even one life.

"I don't suppose we could send a shuttle to find them? At top speed, following the path they took, we should be able to get close enough to see where they are, right?" Nia asks Thalen, lifting an inquiring brow before turning to the Captain. "As Cmdr. Roble mentioned, I suggested we should pack the shuttles with as many crewmembers as possible and get 'em out of here anyway, to make room for more refugees. If you agree, we might as well use one of them to hunt for a possible backup at the same time."

[Elendil's Heir]

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Onn," says the Captain, "I'm still considering how we ought to use our shuttles, if at all. The Shuttlebay will be crowded with evacuees and if any shuttle needs to come back aboard during our return trip, that could badly complicate things." She thinks for a moment, then takes a deep breath. "All right. I've already issued a Code One alert* and declared a planetary emergency. Both are classified for the moment, but Mr. Thalen has notified Starfleet Command and the Colonial Office. The First Officer and I will beam down shortly to consult further with Gov. Voronko and the colony's leaders; I believe he'll soon be making a public address about the crisis. Dr. Villa, proceed with your work. Mr. Roble, Mr. Cheverez, please continue to consult with your departments so that we can maximize the number of lives saved."

"Of course, Captain," the Science Officer says.

"Understood, ma'am," the Chief Engineer says. "As Mr. Onn asked, has there been any response from the Sarafina?"

"No, and sensors show nothing wrong with their subspace communications gear. They're obviously ignoring us." She turns and says to Onn, "Lieutenant, report to the Bridge, if you please. I want you to take the Yorktown after them and bring them back. A shuttle alone might not be enough, probably won't be enough, if Capt. Bell becomes even more uncooperative. He could carry at least two hundred people in his cargo holds, and he's damn well going to do his part. It shouldn't take you long at maximum warp, there and back, but you should do everything possible to avoid damaging that ship. We don't have time to make repairs. Questions?"



On the Bridge, at the Communications console, Kylah sees two incoming messages, both marked URGENT: a call for Mr. Graham from Marala Gromov, and a written message for her from her Guardian, Aldaan.

* https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Code_One_alert

[SidonianGal]

It's a lot to take in. Nia has ceased slumping to sit ramrod straight, realizing the opportunity--and responsibility--Captain Singh has just placed on her. She can't help recalling her earlier conversation with Vargas, with his atypical confidence in her ability to rise to leadership.

But there're a lot more pressing matters than her promotion chances. Singh's plan to go down to the planet, taking the First Officer with her, sounds crazy. Unless they're bringing a huge number of security officers with them, but even then, it's eight thousand desperate people down there. And what if--?

Nia blinks. She doesn't want to think about the what if that just popped into her head. Instead she says carefully: "I do have questions, ma'am--" She stops and changes tactics. "--But I suspect our ACoS has the same ones, possibly more. He can articulate them better." Glancing to her left, she lowers her voice but keeps it intense: "Booker?"

[choie]

The overall gloom-laden quiet of the Bridge makes the alerts that just sounded in Kylah's ear seem louder than they really are. She stares at both incoming messages. Her heart pounds against her breastbone and she can hear its rhythmic thump in her ears.

Of course she must deal with the live message first. Kylah quickly routes the call from Ms. Gromov to Lt. Graham's communicator, activating the urgent signal so his device's ring will indicate this is a priority. She must have just heard, Kylah thinks with a sharp pang of sympathetic dread.

That done, she drags her attention to Aldaan's message alert. Urgent. No responses to her multiple attempts to reach out to her uncle for weeks, and now something is urgent? Kylah's fingers hover over the panel, almost twitching with the instinct to open his message.

No. I am on duty. Her attention must be on the incoming and outgoing messages related to this impending tragedy, not to mention hunting for anyone else who might be in the vicinity. And, of course, she has continued to attempt contact with the Sarafina. That is priority.

Inwardly she berates herself. Devotion to duty is not her sole reason for delaying the inevitable, though it is the most important. But a very close second is, quite simply, her fear of whatever Aldaan might have to say to her.

Kylah bites her lip. As a temporary compromise, she takes a look at the message's origin to see when it was sent.

[Elendil's Heir]

The Captain turns to Graham. "Yes?"

Graham's communicator sounds.

The Sarafina still has not responded to Kylah's repeated hails.

The message from Aldaan originated on Elas, and bears the Guardian's proper authentication.

[Rangin]

...and still no decision is made on who to rescue. Admittedly some decisions had been made but nothing to really set Rangin's mind at ease.

The fact the Captain and First Officer were planet bound did little to change that, desperate people will take desperate actions and putting themselves unnecessarily into danger only heightens the sense that it was going to get worse.

He tries to sit tight in his seat, itching to get out of the room and back to his normal duties. At least his part in this emergency is over, even though it seems that Lt Graham and Lt Onn will still have their work cut out for them. He wonders if Graham is going to volunteer for the landing party. Well best luck to him down there, but facing several thousand scared and angry colonists is not something Rangin can really help with.

He just had one near-death experience and he doesn't want a repeat.

[choie]

Recognizing that this is clearly an authentic message from her Guardian, Kylah checks the timestamp, hoping to calculate how long it took. If Aldaan sent it top priority, she might have to ask the current CO* for permission to read it, even if it is personal.

She will first forward it to her communicator--it should already be there, but she wants to make sure--and then delete and bleach the version on the Yorktown's system.


* Who is currently at the conn?

[general_urko]

Graham is running through scenarios taking in the Captain's apparent intent to go down to the planet when Nia invites his comment and his communicator beeps.

Something visceral kicks in: Marala.

It has to be her .

His hand involuntary twitches and his voice catches and breaks as he tries to speak, which he covers by clamping his hand to his side and clearing his throat.

"C--"

Ahem.

"Captain, ah, I believe you and the first officer would be potential targets. Obviously, anyone who demands to be evacuated because they are holding a Federation officer hostage knows they will be held to account. But desperate people might be tempted to do desperate things. To put it bluntly, getting off planet by any means escaping a death sentence, regardless of whatever happens next."

[Elendil's Heir]

Kylah sees that the Guardian's message was sent from Elas 27 minutes ago. It came to the Yorktown directly via subspace communications. She is able to delete and bleach the original in the ship's records, which she knows is a serious violation of Starfleet regs. Cmdr. Vargas now has the Conn.

The Captain says, "The crisis has not been publicly announced down below; only the Governor and the top colonial leaders know of it. Mr. Vargas will be coming with me, as I said, and two other guards." She smiles a little wryly. "I think we'll be all right. But you're right to speak up, and I thank you for your concern, Mr. Graham."

Graham's communicator beeps again insistently.

Singh stands. "You have your orders. Carry on, and good luck." She heads for the door.

[SidonianGal]

Nia's just finished nodding at Booker's words when the Captain brushes them aside. When the older woman starts to leave, Nia stands up at once. "Captain, please--one more thing!"

She knows she's overstepping herself. But screw it: she'd rather face a dressing down than the monumental tragedy of the worst-case scenario.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I may risk insubordination for saying this, but: I question the wisdom of taking the Yorktown out of orbit." She strengthens her voice. "I anticipate no problems with my assignment. It's the problems we can't anticipate that worry me."

She glances back at the others around the table, guessing they probably know where this is headed, before stepping forward to press her case.

"We're off to seek room for two hundred more evacuees. I agree the Sarafina is worth a shuttle trip. But going off in the ship itself? The only real chance for saving a relatively significant portion of the population? If we run into some difficulty or delay and can't get back in time--"

The thought sickens her. "We'd lose everyone. All eight thousand. And you, Cmdr. Vargas and the other officers as well."

Nia's fingers are cold; they usually are, on the ship, but now they're bloodless with the fear and adrenaline pumping blood away from her limbs. To warm them she curls her hands into fists.

"I'll do whatever I can to avoid such a disaster and return with plenty of time, and the Sarafina if at all possible. Obviously if this is what you wish, I'll follow your orders. I just ask you to consider these implications." She swallows, not confident that the Captain will change her mind.

[* Then a desperate alternative lights up Nia's brain. "At least... if you go through with this, at least take the shuttle prototype that I--that we've been working on, me and a few engineers. Mr. Cheverez knows--it's the [yournamehere]. One of the ways we tricked it out was adding a single-person transporter pad. This way, if the Yorktown's not back as expected, you can get beamed out, one at a time, and leave with however much time you'll need to get past the destruction perimeter."]

Drained, Nia lets her voice lose its ring of Starfleet protocol. Now she speaks to Singh, not just as officer to her commander, but as one person to another. "I know you might've already thought of this. I mean... if I have, you probably have. But I felt... I just had to..." Atypically wordless, she shakes her head.





* Total improvisation, but we already know Nia's been in Engineering tinkering on some shuttle with various experiments...yes, I managed to find that needle in a haystack of thousands of posts... and it seems like adding basic/rudimentary transporter capability would've been a good place to start, right? Especially since the lack of that tech nearly killed the crew during the Sakathian mission when they were trying to escape from the station up to the shuttle. That said, if it's out-of-bounds, please ignore the dialogue in green completely.

[choie]

Done with purging the system, Kylah is still shaken by just how rapidly this message from Aldaan was sent and received. She cannot put it off. But her duty... the seriousness of the current situation...

She bites her lip in doubt, then swivels slightly toward the center of the Bridge. Even Vargas's back is intimidating.

"Excuse me, Commander," she says tentatively. "I have just received a high priority personal communication from my uncle--the Elasian Regent and Ambassador to the Federation. May I take a moment to read it?" Her fingers clutch the device in her hands. "I would not think of doing so, especially now, but this seems to be a matter of urgency. Of course I will continue to scan and hail for assistance...?"

[Elendil's Heir]

Capt. Singh stops and calmly says, "I have indeed thought it through, Lieutenant. It's a calculated risk, but one I think worth taking. The Sarafina is no match for this ship and I'm confident you'll be there and back in plenty of time. We're going to need every possible square meter on both ships to save as many people as we can. Now, carry on." She leaves the room, with Thalen close behind. The others around the table rise, gather their things and prepare to go.

On the Bridge, Cmdr. Vargas says almost offhandedly, "Of course, Ensign. As long as it doesn't interfere with your duties, you're always free to deal with personal messages."

A minute or so later his communicator beeps. Vargas glances at its text screen, then stands. "Mr. Bennett, you have the conn, but only briefly. Mr. Onn should be here shortly and will take command. She has new orders and will be taking the ship out of orbit."

"Aye, sir," the navigator says.

The First Officer enters the turbolift and leaves. Bennett remains at the Nav console.

Since we haven't heard anything more about that shuttle prototype in awhile, let's assume it's not done yet. Feel free to follow up on it in future.

[general_urko]

Two guards.... Graham's not convinced that's enough, but the Captain left little room for argument.

Graham pulls out his communicator and hustles to find a location--preferably one with a full terminal--where he could take the call he suspects is Marala.

If he has the chance he catches Onn's eye as he leaves and points to the communicator to indicate he needs to take the call.

[choie]

With a soft word of gratitude toward Cmdr. Vargas, Kylah opens her communicator to find and open the message. The text is much smaller than it would be on her main Comm screen, especially for what appears to be a very long document.

She holds her breath, then scans the message. Of course, it begins with the usual formalities--Aldaan's greetings; sharing the latest news of her brother, His Serenity Dohlman Tel, as well as her sister, Ditraa; and a general wish that the message finds Kylah in good health. After this, the text continues in a slightly less formal and much less convivial tone. Kylah can almost hear the ice of her uncle's silvery voice.

I am glad you sent a visual message, Kylah. Despite your reassurances that you're recovering after all your numerous experiences...I see a worrying difference in you. You're ashen and drawn. Your eyes are sunken and look as if you hadn't slept for a week. Further, it did not escape my notice that you chose to show only your face on camera. I hope what I could see is not reflected in your overall appearance.

Kylah glances down at her diminished curves, fingers plucking at her new, smaller-sized uniform. No, her uncle would not approve.

Remember that you're treasured for your insight, talents and your beauty. Those are all commodities you must maintain. Need I remind you that as long as you're under my guardianship, your future is mine to decide? Do nothing further that jeopardizes any of the gifts nature has bestowed upon you. The pleasure your appearance brings to others bears many rewards.

Rewards? Kylah nearly scoffs aloud. For whom? Not her. The way she looks has largely made her vulnerable to others' expectations. Her lips tighten as Aldaan's words take a warmer turn, but only confirm her thoughts.

Be assured, my dear ward, that I still find you lovely, as I will to the end of my days... especially if I'm granted the luxury of seeing you by my side, at home with me. But men from other cultures may feel differently, their tastes are to be indulged--when it benefits us.

Kylah squeezes her eyes shut at the insinuations. Yes, her uncle has just reduced her to a bargaining chip while reminding her that his proposal is stil one of the options for her future. As if she could forget. When she can bear it, she reads on.

Regarding your flurry of messages, and why they went on answered: truthfully, I was unsure how to address your apologies. They seemed belated after far-too-infrequent reports, your reckless behavior leading to multiple injuries, the destruction of my mother's zither, and... what I don't wish to mention, but must: the plethora of your apparent indiscretions.

I believe your denials, of course; I know your nature too well. However, those rumors you continue to decry continue to circulate. The result threatens damage to your name, and thus our House. Even when the gossip omits your name, it's clear they refer to an Elasian woman in Starfleet. Such a riddle is hardly opaque.

Most Elasian women have no restrictions on their behavior. You are not one of them, Kylah, and not just because of your House, or certain abilities that are known only to us. You must not harm the enchanting impression others have of you. The contradiction between your demeanor and appearance is a significant part of your appeal, and thus your value. You combine innocence and diffidence--not common Elasian traits--with what one of my fellow Council members once described as "the body and eyes of a sorceress."

(I hope that doesn't embarrass you; my friend did not know I'd heard him. But the truth is, you open yourself to such talk when your name is bandied about by the media. In any event, I have to agree that he described you well, if somewhat poetically.)

Kylah's face burns with mortification at learning that members of the Regency Council are discussing her in that manner. Aldaan's feigned concern about her reaction only worsens things. He knows her better than anyone. He knows precisely how this man's words make her feel.

Enough of this, my dear. You know I cannot stay angry with you. But you must improve your performance. Absorb as much as you can, and feel free to share it with me, as I remain interested in learning about our hopefully soon-to-be fellow members of the Federation.

Further: Do not endanger yourself without reason. When I helped arrange your posting, I was told you were to be in a position of some responsibility and safety within the ship. Not to be chosen for such dangerous missions, risking your life. Should this continue, I may need to renegotiate matters with my Starfleet contact.

If your own pride in serving your House and homeland is not enough reason to succeed, then concentrate on the other options from which I may have to select for your future if you fail. If you prefer either one of them to this Starfleet ship, you have only to say the word.

Of course, to be frank, there are conditions under which your death could be used politically to great advantage. But that would be an exceedingly sad and unwelcome way to say goodbye to a young woman who holds my particular affection. Such a premature end, a waste of a bright future.

There is more, much more, but Kylah swiftly blocks the communicator's small screen with a trembling palm. Her mouth is dry as she stares at the ever-changing lights on her panel.

Uncle Aldaan's speaking of her death in such a way chills her to her very marrow. It is not sympathy, it is not concern.

It is a threat.

[Elendil's Heir]

Graham finds no other available room nearby to talk privately to Marala, but when he returns to Conference Room 1 he finds that it is now empty. He sits down and puts her call through to the three-screen display* on the tabletop.

He can tell at once that Marala has been crying, although she's trying to maintain a brave facade. "Hello, Boojee," she says, her voice a little strained. She clears her throat. "I'm glad I could reach you. I know how busy you must be up there."

Graham feels like the disruptor shot he took to the leg hits him right then in the chest. He clears his throat. "We - we're doing our best, Marala."

She says, "I've learned what's going on, the radiation burst, all that. There's a rumor that you won't be able to save everyone here. Is it true?"

It takes Graham a moment to collect his thoughts. "It's - there are a lot of smart people working on finding a way," he says finally.

She chuckles humorlessly. "That's more evasive than I thought you were even capable of, which under the circumstances is probably not a good sign. All right. Let's say you can't save everyone. I'm going to ask something of you, Boojee, something which I know I have no right to ask, but I'm going to do it anyway. I have to do it anyway. Will you promise me that you'll save Nikolai?"

"Oh...." Graham shakes his head involuntarily. "Marala, I can't believe - no matter what, I can't believe we'd leave kids behind." His response is instinctive and confident. Then he feels (and sounds a little less confident). "There's no way the Captain would do that...."

But maybe the Captain would defer to the Governor. Or... I've been in Starfleet long enough to see a few things nobody would have believed before they happened.

She stares at him, holding his eye with a directness and an intensity he finds almost unbearable. "You know her better than I do, Booker. I hope you're right. But... I have to be sure. Will you promise me? Please. I've reached a point... thinking about all this, about what the next few hours might hold... I don't even care about myself anymore." She chokes back a sob. "Can you believe that? I barely can. But I lost my husband. And... and I can't face my own death, knowing that my only son is going to die too. Promise me, Booker. Promise me you'll save him."

Graham reflexively extends a hand toward the screen as Marala speaks. "Don't give up, Marala," he says softly. It's far from a command... it's... a wish? A gesture....

He wonders what 17-year-old Marala would think about his hand extended through time. Frightened, weak Boojee, for whom she was a reason to "not give up." Extending a hand criss-crossed by decades of scars that got there not just from being hit, but by doing some hitting of his own....

He blinks his head clear. "Marala... I told you earlier, I have a daughter. I promise you I'll look out for Nikolai as if he were my own flesh and blood." He chokes up and takes a second to compose himself. "As if my Lizzy was waiting for her little brother to come home."

She stares at him searchingly, then smiles a little, and says quietly, shakily, "Thank you, Boojee. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I'll be in touch again soon."

And she is gone.



* http://www.ditl.org/Images/M/MeetConstitution3.jpg

[Rangin]

With the meeting over and everyone dismissed, Rangin has little to nothing left to do for the meanwhile. Feeling a mixture of sadness that he could not get his point across and relief that he is not going to have to make the choice, he checks the duty roster to see what he is assigned to.

[SidonianGal]

Nia stands outside the conference room door, hands on her hips and taking some deep breaths.

About ninety seconds ago, she had to watch Singh leave, the door closing behind her and leaving Nia with the weight of 8,000 lives on her shoulders.

No. 8,400 plus. There's the crew too.

The Captain made a bad call. Nia wants to save as many lives as possible, but risking the sole escape method for nearly 2,000 people in hopes of squeezing in 200 more... When she'd brushed aside Nia's suggestions about the shuttles?

Not just a bad call. A goddamned reckless call. Showboating. I don't like it.

But she doesn't have to like it. This is what Nia's left with, and after the doors whooshed shut behind Singh, Nia did her best to contemplate all this with a straight back and raised chin: no physical reaction while she got her game-face on.

When she turned around, she saw Booker disappearing with a finger at his communicator--which reminded her that she'd heard the alert go off twice, probably Kylah no doubt--and Nia could only barely get a nod to the rest as they seemed to disappear into their own bailiwicks as well.

Hooray. Go team.

She stalked out of the conference room, and now she's still here, mind buzzing with thoughts about what to do. Standing frozen in place is not productive. She needs input, and, well, the ship won't run itself. (Actually, it totally could, but that's not the point.)

With a deep inward breath, Nia heads for the Bridge, turning down a corridor--at which point she spies the only other person in the conference room who hasn't vanished into thin air. The ensign is reading his communicator, apparently not in a conversation.

Goody. At least the person temporarily in charge of the Yorktown won't be interrupting anyone; that would be a fucking shame.

"Ensign Rangin!" Nia snaps when she's a few meters away, then dials her tone down several notches. Yeah she's worried, yeah she's resentful, yeah she's overwhelmed, but she can't show it either physically or verbally. That'd be unprofessional and unproductive.

"Rangin," she says again, even and collegial. "I don't know where you're currently assigned, but I'd like you on the Bridge." Nia pauses, and amends it further. "I need you on the Bridge. Your intelligence, sensibility and experience are valuable as hell to me. You okay with that?"

She keeps walking until she's by his side, and encourages him to join her as she continues to the turbolift.

[Rangin]

Rangin looks up sharply from the communicator at the sound of his name being called. Ah, Lt., and-soon-to-be-acting-Captain, Onn still there despite everyone else having left. Isn't she supposed to be making her way to the bridge and what did Graham's current beau want with him? The last few times they had talked had been pretty neutral, but on the current matter they seemed to think a little more alike.

"Yes Ma'am." he says standing upright and snapping to attention as he sees her stalking towards him.

Oh great, what trouble is she going to throw him into now. His eyes start flicking across her face and stance, looking for tell-tale signs of her species to show just how much trouble he is in. A fair amount judging by the large ball of angry heading towards him. He groans inwardly wondering what particular function she will have him carrying out, as she starts her orders.

He worries even more when her tone drops into a neutral, almost friendly tone towards him, espousing his values. Yeah, and trusting to someone like that just asked for trouble, even if she is Starfleet. He'd be useful until he isn't and then depending on her whim, maybe Graham's, he would be left knee deep in shit. That's how it usually worked. Lt Onn. gets dumped on by the Captain and in turn she dumps on the poor sucker below her. Him, in other words.

"Of course, Ma'am." comes his neutral reply, like he even had a choice in the matter, as her joins her in the turbolift to the bridge.

[Elendil's Heir]

The turbolift soon bears Onn and Rangin to the Yorktown's Bridge.

The big chair is empty, but Lt. Bennett rises from Nav, nods respectfully and says to Onn, "Mr. Vargas told me that you were coming to take command, ma'am. He left just a minute or so ago. The Bridge is yours."

The reddish-orange arc of Novy Rostov fills the lower half of the main viewscreen, still giving no hint of the dire threat the far-below colony faces just hours from now. Ens. Horst Leventhal is at the Helm, while Ens. Kylah 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.

[SidonianGal]

Nia takes in the Bridge, eyebrow slightly raised at seeing Leventhal instead of Vaudreuil--who she thought Kylah had contacted to replace her. Probably just finished his watch, she figures, and thanks Cece for the handover.

In the turbolift, she gave some thought on whom she wants nearby in the circumstances. Kylah wasn't one of them. Nia glances over to the young officer, who at least seems to be riveted on her comm panel. But then she notices the device almost hidden in Kylah's hands. Guess I was right, she thinks in frustration.

Rather than embarrass the girl, she steps over to her. Close up, Kylah looks wan, her eyes as round and terrified as a frightened puppy's. Nia again ratchets down her anger.

"You up to this, Ensign? I'm sensitive to what you went through yesterday, and I admire your willingness to attend your duties. But I need someone who's alert and focused." Nia hesitates, then adds even more quietly, "And you don't need to hide your conversation with Graham. I heard the alert. Just wrap it up--and let him know I want him on the Bridge." Nia switches her attention from Kylah to the screen above. "So, no word from the Sarafina, I suppose. Keep trying."

The girl almost jumps in her chair, twisting to look up at Nia while shaking her head. "No, there is still no response. And I am not hiding--this is my--that is, I am not speaking to Mr. Graham." Belying some of her words, Kylah pulls the communicator farther away from view. "It is an urgent message from Elas." Her expression suddenly shifts from panic to a curious mixture of guilt and defiance. "Cmdr. Vargas granted me permission to read it. I can do my job, ma'am."

Nia's eyebrow remains lifted. Well well. The kitten reminds me she has claws. "Then proceed, as long as you get back to that job ASAP."

As she heads back to the center of the Bridge, she can't help a glance at Rangin, and belatedly the thought occurs to her: Wait... then who the hell is Booker talking to who rated a high-priority alert?

She shakes her head to free her mind of the question, and that takes her attention over to Ngaka at Science. And Dahlquist... ugh, they just had some weirdness a couple days ago. He'd better be over it. Either way some changes will be made. But first things first.

Nia stands near the Captain's chair but doesn't sit down yet--her body thrums with too much adrenaline to be seated.

"Leventhal. Bennett. Prepare to leave orbit on my order. We'll be hunting down the Sarafina, which I believe we can still get on our sensors, according to Lt. Thalen. But first..."

She taps the intership button on the chair arm's communication panel.

"Lt. Onn to Transporter Room 1. Has the landing party already beamed down, or are they still prepping?" Nia's not sure who's manning the transporters, but she knows she'll recognize whoever answers.

In the milliseconds of waiting, she flicks her gaze to Mahmoud, surprised he didn't get assigned to guard the ship's most senior officers dirtside. Hey, lucky break for him, considering what'll happen if she screws things up and ends up murdering a whole population.

[general_urko]

Graham takes a deep breath.

Truth be told, he feels wanting to save Marala more deeply than he feels wanting to save Nikolai: not because loss the kid wouldn't be absolutely terrible, but because...she's Marala. It seems like every single second they spent together many years ago just happened yesterday.

But giving up my seat for Lizzy wouldn't even be a question if it came to that.

What would you do if Nikolai were her little brother?

It's hard to fully work through the implications.

Damn it. Work to do right now, Booker....

Graham composes himself and heads to the Bridge: Nia's in charge, I want to help. And we're going to need some serious Security command and control from the Bridge, I'm afraid...

[choie]

Kylah's heart pounds as Lt. Onn finally walks away. Kylah is already agitated--both from the impending disaster and her own personal threat. She does not need Lt. Onn's odd combination of concern and cynicism.

She lifts a hand and anxiously twists her unbraided hair around her index finger, trying to gather herself before continuing to read. As she sends her gaze around, she belatedly notices Velir.

For only a flash of a moment, she remembers how shameful her behavior was yesterday--and Velir's strange thoughts, as if he already knew about Jan and Darren and was reflecting her worst nightmares back at her.

Her uncle's words about her beauty echo in her mind. If she ever appealed to Velir, she does not now, and it has nothing to do with her appearance. Even if she were wearing her makeup, properly styled her hair, kept her posture straight, maintained her figure: Kylah cannot imagine what a poor impression he has of her now.

That is how her life is. When she is fortunate to get friendship at last, she inevitably loses it. Something in her is toxic.

Her hollow gaze turns away. How did her uncle change so? Did he ever truly love her? Her,, not just her secret empathic abilities that lent him an edge on every guest, every rival on whom she could spy?

How could it all have been a lie? she pleads with herself. The time they spent together during her childhoood and adolescence was precious. She would have felt it if there was no affection at all! What good is her empathic ability if she cannot adequately judge the intent of those closest to her?

If she closes her eyes she can almost smell his pipe smoke filling the air of her father's study, the leather chair, his cologne. Kylah would lean against his leg, curled by the chair while he read to her. She remembers being drawn up into his lap where she could fall asleep, or he would play the zither for her and teach her to brush her fingers against the delicate crystal strands.

She felt loved. Safe. Was none of it real?

Somehow, with her eyes still closed, the figure in her mind has changed. It is no longer Aldaan beside her, but Lt. Graham. Just like last night. She was safe with him, too. Truly safe. She would never have revealed her galling tale of her night with Jan otherwise.

Swallowing, she finally drags her gaze back down to her communicator. She already knows where her uncle and guardian is leading her. He is about to make a demand.

Now. To aid you in the only way I can, I will focus on your music. Strange to hear your work on a different instrument. The Vulcan harp is not as resonant and clear as an Elasian Zither, but you play it well. The last composition you sent was interesting but not nearly as complex or original--I might have almost heard some of it before.

Kylah grits her teeth. So her painstakingly encoded message was for nothing: Aldaan's contacts from Q'onoS already told him of the Yorktown's capture of those rogue Klingon villains who'd nearly destroyed the Naradraen. The time it took to compose, the risk she took--as ever when she passes these messages along--worthless.

Forcing herself to read on, she scowls. There is a distinct change in style. Aldaan is always clear, but stylistically verbose. Yet the rest of the message is surprisingly brief.

Kylah. I wrote the preceding text yesterday, intending to send this later in the week. Circumstances demand my immediate attention and it is a matter of great urgency.

In the meantime, I must change the composition I wish you to learn. Instead, I have attached a new piece by a musician from Troyius.

It is a departure from the other works I've sent you. This requires finesse and determination to perform. I believe you are up to the challenge.

Given the nature of this piece, you might object. It is deceptively simple. But I do not believe it will be easy. I leave it up to you. You possess extraordinary skill. And I know you wish to live up to my expectations.

This will assist in repairing some of the damage done to our House through your activities. If not, we will have to take a careful look at whether this was the correct path for you to take.

I will contact you shortly. There is not much time for me to say more, except that I hope you do not disappoint me.

Let me know as soon as you receive this, and again when you first hear the piece. I wish your immediate reaction.

Kylah frowns and sits back, alarmed and disturbed by her Guardian's threats, warnings, the urgency--and the fact that he even omitted the formal, florid lines that always end official messages, even among family members. She nearly skips directly to the attachment when she discovers a postscript.

Note: I have sent you a new set of throwing knives. You've been without your weapons far too long; you must feel vulnerable without them.

Be wise, dear Kylah. I wish to see you again.

Kylah gapes at the device in her lap, as if the knives already rest there. How like him. Love, concern, disapproval, threats, encouragement, and now.. a gesture intended to apologize for the emotional acrobatics he has just put her through.

She knows he is playing her like the harp he wrote about. Still, she is grateful. Her need for his love, for anyone's love and attention, is so palpable her fingers stretch to reach for it. Even when it is illusory.

But she must not hesitate longer. Aldaan's change of tone indicated how urgent the matter is. She cannot fathom what could be such an emergency--especially if he needs her assistance. What can she possibly do to help? But she does not dare second-guess her Guardian's words.

At once she fires off a brief response to let him know his message did indeed arrive safely. Working with the attachment, the encoded message... that will be a greater challenge.

Kylah has to think quickly; as she does, she glances around to see if anyone is paying attention to her. In such a dire situation she doubts it, but she cannot risk the slightest scrutiny.

[Elendil's Heir]

"Course plotted and laid in, ma'am," Bennett says. "I've been tracking the Sarafina since she broke orbit."

"Ready here, Lieutenant," Leventhal says. "Just give the word."

From Transporter Room 1 belowdecks, Chief Harrison says, "Capt. Singh and the landing party are almost ready, ma'am. Please stand by."

No one seems to be paying any attention to Kylah.

The turbolift doors whoosh open and Graham steps out onto the Bridge.

[Rangin]

Rangin occupies Science 2, where Lt. Onn has asked him to go, and starts to bring himself up to speed with everything that has happened in the short time he was in the meeting. As he logs himself into the system, he can’t help mulling over the unexpected conversation he and Onn had during their brief time in the turbolift…

* * *

He steps into the lift just behind Lt. Onn and moves off to the one side, calming himself and waiting for the officer to speak.

Inside, Lt. Onn stands to Rangin’s right, one hand tapping against her thigh. He can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if she’s counting the seconds needed before one of her sarcastic remarks.

“Rangin,” she says abruptly. “We’ve only got a few seconds. But I wanna say something before we get there.”

She moistens her lips as if in preparation for some bad news, and he girds himself. “There’s a certain…sameness to some of the crew. Don’t get me wrong, I love a lot of ‘em, like even more of ‘em, dislike some, and am neutral to the rest.

“But one thing they share, at least most--something you and I don’t have in common with them--is that they’re Federation-born-and-bred. Not just the humans; it’s same with the Vulcans, Tellarites, Andorians and so on. They’re all from… civilized societies.” She scowls, not looking happy with that description.

“Ma'am, I think you mean that they have a similar point of view. Domesticated might be a better term,” Rangin opines.

This brings out a silent grin, then a chuckle. “Yeah. In fact, let's go with housetrained. I’ve been in Starfleet for a decade now, but I still remember what it’s like, plotting and scheming to struggle day-to-day to survive. I’m not sure most of the others do. Luckily for them. For the most part they've lived within a somewhat rarified system, y’know?”

“It’s a system that works 99% of the time, so why change it. Except for those times where it doesn't and they cannot help but follow the rules.“

Lt. Onn side-eyes him. “Exactly. That’s why I want you up there with me.“

“I don't follow your thinking, Ma’am.”

“You don’t take orders unquestioningly. And maybe that’s odd for a superior officer to consider a good thing, a necessary thing. But… if we’ve ever needed to think outside the box--not just outside the box, I want that box to be a fucking dot to us--it’s now.”

She turns to face him as the Turbolift starts to slow. “Promise me? If you come up with some crazy plan, something you truly think could save more lives, I give you permission to interrupt me--assuming we’re not in the middle of a dogfight with the Sarafina, which may or may not happen. Get my attention and lemme hear your idea. I’m open-minded, Rangin.” Her flash of a smile is crooked. “Ask any guy on the ship.”

After a second, she adds: “And if you can forget that you and Graham are oil and water, and that by the transitive property you think I’m also the enemy just ‘cause Graham and I are…” Her hand waves vaguely. “...Y’know… together… I’d appreciate it. Because I don’t share his beliefs. Some of them, sure, he's a smart and intuitive guy. But we don't walk in lockstep, not at all. Can you do that? Think of me as an individual?”

Rangin gapes slightly at Lt. Onn’s words before clenching his jaw shut before it drops any further. These are not orders that he’s expected to follow so much as a request, and he struggles for a moment as he tries to reconcile the tone and expectations she seems to have for him, which are pretty different from the usual senior-officer-to-junior officer dynamic.

He slumps slightly, feeling so very unsure of what he should really be doing, when she has given him the answer already...and when it comes to trying to save thousands of lives, Graham and his knuckle-dragging tendencies are just not important in the grand scheme of things.

He straightens to attention, pulls a tiny ruck in his uniform flat and takes a deep breath. “Yes Ma'am, I can do that and at this moment in time, I can put any issues with Graham to one side, including your.. 'togetherness'. We have people to save.”

Lt. Onn, who’s been holding onto the turbolift’s control handle to pause its movement, lifts her hand so it can resume its ascent towards the Bridge. “Excellent.” She pauses and makes a slight grimace. “But one thing. Permission to use the phrase ‘togetherness’ regarding me and Graham is rescinded. Sounds all kinds of wrong. My fault, that one’s on me. Carry on.”

“Understood Ma'am,” he replies quickly as they reach the Bridge and he waits until she leaves before following and heading for one of the Science stations.

* * *

Rangin shakes his head and mentally files the conversation away for safekeeping. Right now, they are short of time and with the Sarafina not answering, getting hold of them is a priority, as well as working out just how many people they can hold. He brings up the schematics for the vessel and looks across to the Comms station. He can see Kylah, head over her console, but not appearing to be working on it.

Never mind what has happened between them, they still need to work together to get hold of the receding ship. He heads across to her station to talk with her and find out what the latest situation is. Perhaps they can figure out what might attract the attention of the Sarafina’s Captain.

[choie]

At first Kylah sees no one paying attention, and so she taps her communicator to decompress the attached file. From one look at the raw code, she recognizes that whatever the message is, it is indeed embedded in music. Of course it is, you fool, she thinks irritably. He told you it was a song.

Before she forgets, she types out a brief confirmation to Aldaan, and sends it at the same priority level he did. It should take no longer than his took to reach her. Hopefully even faster.

Kylah swallows and lifts a hand to remove her earpiece--she will need to redirect its input source from her panel to the communicator. But suddenly she senses--and then sees--Velir approaching.

At once she jerks her hand down to again cover the device in her lap, then turns expectantly toward Velir. Simultaneously the turbolift doors reveal Lt. Graham. Flustered by the sight of both men, Kylah takes a wary look at the younger of the two. "Mr. Rangin," she says hastily. "May I help you?"

[SidonianGal]

"Thanks, Chief," Nia says to Harrison while she focuses on Booker entering the Bridge. She can't read him, though she's damn curious about what his emergency conversation was about. Now's not the time to ask, unless it involves the current mission--and if it does, Nia knows Book would tell her. She finishes to the transporter chief: "Let me know once the party's safely dirtside."

Next, she thanks Bennett and Leventhal for their efficiency, fingers tapping away at her hips while her mind works. "If you haven't done so yet," she adds to the Helm and Nav officers, "I'd like an ETA on how long it'll take to catch up to the Sarafina at max speed.

"And," she continues, thoughts churning, "given all this info, please calculate just how far we can go, and the absolute longest this hunt can take, so that we're still able to get back with time enough to evac up to 1600 people from the planet."

Deity of deities, that sounds im-fucking-possible. She inhales. "Basically I need to know how long we've got before we turn back with or without the Sarafina. We are not gonna search for this thing at the expense of saving as many as we can."

Nia sweeps her gaze around the Bridge again. Oh cripes, Rangin, we had a nice moment before. Can't you keep away from the crazy for two minutes?

A little tug of guilt cuts off her ungenerous thoughts, considering whatever Kylah's gone through--not surprisingly, Book didn't share her secret with Nia.

Finally she acknowledges Booker with a respectful nod. "Lieutenant. Take Security 1, please?"

After her inventory of the Bridge crew, Nia knows more changes are in order. Again she flips the comm button. "Onn to Roble. Commander, I'd like someone on the Bridge who can give me immediate updates on the star activity." As she speaks, Nia aims a look at Ngaka, slightly apologetic but not begging for forgiveness. The junior officer will surely understand Nia's rationale for preferring an astrophysicist to a botanist right now.

She continues to Roble: "Any objection if I second Lt. Bancroft from you?"

[Elendil's Heir]

Leventhal says confidently, "She's been moving out at a steady Warp 5. At Warp 8, I can have us alongside her in two minutes."

Bennett looks over her shoulder from Nav. "By my calculations we have at least an hour, ma'am, if we need it, given the likely timetable for large-scale evacuation and then departure from the system. That leaves us a decent but not... overgenerous safety margin."

Mahmoud hears Onn's order, nods at Graham and relinquishes the Security station. He heads for the turbolift.

Roble says, "I was going to suggest something of the kind myself, Lieutenant. No objection at all. I'll see that Mr. Bancroft reports to the Bridge immediately. He, Lt. Mukherjee and Lt. Waterman have been closely monitoring both stars."

From Transporter Room 1, Chief Harrison says, "The Captain and her party just beamed down, Mr. Onn."

[anthonydlangford]

Nathaniel wonders how this is all going to turn out. Dr. Villa had ordered more of the drug to be synthetized for use if their plan actually came into fruition. But he isn't sure if that is going to happen. The Captain had beamed down on the planet, which seems foolish, reckless, especially since so much as uncertain. But that is what Captains did, isn't it? And here the Yorktown is, off to meet another ship and hope they got back in time to evacuate everyone. In the meantime, what is he doing?

Working in Sickbay, taking care of patients while everybody else dealt with the task at hand. But like Captains and their reckless missions, this is what doctors did, didn't they? They take care of the sick and wait. Wait until the next disaster, the next crisis struck. Wait for the next broken and battered to come their way. Only then will he have something to do. He just prays that something didn't come. Because if it did, in this case, it means a lot of people would be dying.

He isn't afraid of his own death. He doesn't want to die, he rather likes living, even though his life is a bit of a mess right now, beyond this current crisis. But he certainly had enough brushes with death over the past couple of years to be comfortable with the possibilty of death happening at any moment, when he least expects it.

He wishes he has a surgery to perform, the most delicate, the most time consuming. Because then he is focused on something and not thinking about things that were happening behind his control. And he has no control over what is going on. He has no control over what is going to happen. That is what unnverves him most of all.

[general_urko]

Graham returns Nia's nod, then takes his station. He sincerely wishes he could talk to Nia, alone, about...well, everything. It would be good to talk with her, as a friend...or a partner.

But that's not an option at the moment.

Sarafina might be Nikolai's ride.

That's the bottom line; it's like something thrumming behind his forehead as he checks the console.

"Hold your position Mr. Faisal," he says to Mahmoud.

"Permission to assemble a boarding party to have at the ready, ma'am," he asks Lt. Onn. "I'd appreciate Ens. Faisal's advice on its composition."

He pauses a moment. "And clearance to lead it, if it comes to that."

[Elendil's Heir]

Mahmoud stops and stands at ease.

[SidonianGal]

Nia lifts a finger toward Bennett and Leventhal, letting them wait for a second until she finishes up thanking Roble, then acknowledges Harrison's info as well.

Then she nods at her fellow Helm/Nav officers. "Good to hear--that's a lot faster than I thought it'd be. Unfortunately an hour's less time than I'd hoped, but... it is what it is." She tilts her head toward the viewscreen ahead. "Just one more minute, please."

While she speaks she sees Mahmoud getting up--she didn't intend for him to leave the Bridge entirely, and is literally about to call him back when Booker beats her to it. She almost smiles at how in-sync they are.

"Yes, Mahmoud, please take your seat. Good thinking, Lt. Graham. I'm not sure a boarding party will be necessary--let's hope not--but better to be prepared. Permission granted. As far as its composition...that's your choice. Actually..."

Nia hesitates and looks out at the planet, responsibility once again heavy as it rests on her shoulders. "I don't even know which officers accompanied the Captain and First Officer. I'd like to--I think I should know who else we're about to leave down there." She pulls her lips inward, forming a thin line, then turns to Booker again and asks quietly, "Can you find out for me?"

Finally, she makes her way to the Captain's chair and sinks into it, her hands clutching its arms. "Lt. Ngaka... as you heard, Lt. Bancroft will relieve you. But you'll have plenty to do--everyone will." Nia pauses, then, given how quickly their journey to the Sarafina is, she decides to make one more personnel change. The chair's comm button continues to get quite a workout.

"Onn to Villa. Is there any conflict with having Dr. Bennett up on the Bridge? I want a live status report on your work. Further, I'd like him to perform some analysis on the Sarafina. Maybe your medicated coma recipe can be duplicated there, too."

After one long inhale, Nia waits for a moment, then leans forward. One final flip of the comm button. "Onn to Captain Singh. Anything else you need from us, please ask, ma'am, because we're about to be on our way."