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

  1. #1801
    Ape must not kill ape! general_urko's avatar
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    Graham takes a deep breath. He glances at Kylah, and then, a bit longer, at Nia, before giving Marala's shoulder a very gentle squeeze. "Let's find a place to...talk about, ah, next steps," he says quietly--although he has no intention of making it impossible for others in the room to overhear.

  2. #1802
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    Taking a few seconds to chew the inside of her lip in thought, Nia meets Booker's gaze before watching him speak quietly to Marala. Her eyes focus elsewhere as she tries to brute-force her own memory.

    A love story... Guy on a rope... Lots of people...? Come on, damn it, piece this together, it's there, it's something...

    Her mind whirs and at last, the connection and source of those mental images hits her. That stupid book whatsisname got me. What was it called?

    Crap, the title eludes her. And she can't piece these vague, half-remembered visions without skimming the pertinent part of the story.

    A flash hits her. One person might remember the title better than her. He mocked her about the whole thing for weeks.

    Bending slightly, Nia rests the pads of her silver-tipped fingers on Booker's wrist, just enough to get his attention. "Excuse me," she says to Marala in a low, compassionate tone. "Book, I don't know how long we have before you have to--to get her back to the planet." Another sympathetic look at Marala. "I imagine you'll want to be with family. But I... I have sort of an idea. Not firm. Not even gelled. But it may be worth pursuing, if I can have ten minutes or so."

    She sweeps her gaze around the room, finding a few people, including Kylah--who's still looking at Booker and now her, too--remaining. Nia lowers her voice further.

    "Book, this is a real stretch. I'm not even sure... I don't know the rules involved... Shit, I'm not making sense even to me. And I realize I'm assuming a lot. Do you guys have a plan?"
    Last edited by choie; 08 Oct 2019 at 12:25 AM.

  3. #1803
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    Kylah is concerned by the two communications referred to by Lt. Bennett. Utter paranoia stokes her fears that someone has learned about her plans.

    She can do nothing about that now. Instead she hugs her datapad tightly to her chest and continues staring at Lt. Graham and the other woman. Lt. Onn seems to be offering encouragement or sympathy.

    Kylah might be able to do more than sympathy. She could save this small family. ...That is, if Lt. Graham would consider a serious violation of the rules he is supposed to uphold.

    And if I were not a selfish coward.

    There is no time for her to debate with herself. She must prepare her quarters for however many official refugees are allotted to her, as well as the two extras. One extra. I will sleep in my bathroom if I must. In the corridor. Under my bunk. Or I will not sleep at all. And there are rations to be considered.

    That choice is an easy one. A few days of sharply reduced calories will not make a difference. Indeed, it may be to her benefit. A combination of self-control and punishment for all the mistakes she has made.

    She turns to Thalen to see if he has any special orders for her--and to apologize for her lateness.


    Not sure if Thalen has left yet. If he has, she'll be surprised and regretful to have missed him.

  4. #1804
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    "Yes Captain," Rangin says into the now dead comms panel, before turning to the officer next to him. "Well sir, the fate of the Novy Rostov colony and those who survive are now, pretty much solely, in our capable hands. Those who live and die will be decided by our work, whether we argue that we delegated such action to the random whim of chance or not. Did I mention how much I hate lotteries?"

    Rangin closes his eyes and tells himself to focus, he has a task to do, time to treat it like any other operation, calm and objectively. He has a feeling that the superior officer in the room is not necessarily going to take the lead on the general principle of being great with computers, which leaves Rangin metaphorically holding the baby, all eight hundred plus of them with associated families and all those in the colony.

    "No. Stop thinking like that. It doesn't help," he chides himself, "Don't overdo it, gain clarity, get focus, resolve the answer." He begins to pace around in the small room as best he can.

    "Right. Given the current lottery, and the fact it gives the same results as I had initially, there are two things we need: a new set of data and some amendments to the program itself."

    Rangin jumps up and down on the spot loosely shaking his limbs trying to release any tension and almost prepare himself as if it was just another exam he was sitting. Trying to clear his mind of the awful consequences that his actions will lead to.

    "Ok, initial thoughts, the baseline we are going to need. Let's take the data that Cmdr Vargas provided, strip all the identifying data out except for familial links and their rough environmental impact and then add it in to a straight lottery. No extra rules, no maximising the number of people, just random cumulative until we meet our capacity. Should be 15 minutes' work if that."

    He looks up at his fellow expert. "Sir, if I may, I can take the data side and I suggest you amend the program. Once that is done, we can look to confirm the data and see what else we can do."

    Rangin breathes deeply in anticipation of getting to work. "Make that three things we need. More coffee to carry us through. Well, sir, your thoughts?"

  5. #1805
    Ape must not kill ape! general_urko's avatar
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    Graham's eyes moisten as he glances down to Nia's hand on his wrist. For her kindness, for her...love? Even if it wasn't love, she deserved a medal for just liking him.

    Last but not least because his only fully baked plan would likely take him away from her.

    Graham blinks and takes a breath. "Do the right thing. Take the court martial," he says in as low a voice as he can muster. He shrugs slightly, hoping she'll understand. "Wouldn't be the first time, even."

  6. #1806
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    Marala looks from Onn to Graham and back again. She seems unsure. "I'd be glad to talk, Lieutenant, if Booj... if Mr. Graham thinks it would be useful."

    To Kylah, Thalen nods towards the door. In the corridor, now lined with temporary bunks and with bedding, towels and other necessities being placed on each by Engineering ratings, he looks around and says distractedly, "Return to the Bridge, please, Mr. Kylah, and relieve Mr. Patel. Finish your watch there."

    Lt. Dosmukhambetov says to Rangin, "You keep referring to Mr. Vargas's data, but it was data provided by the NR government, as I understand it." He shrugs. "But I'll create a variant program as you suggest. Still with the provision that the drawing of any individual in a household removes from the lottery, that is, leads to the evacuation of, everyone else in that household?"

    Drs. Villa and Bennett return to Sickbay.

  7. #1807
    Ape must not kill ape! general_urko's avatar
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    Graham smiles, though it's mostly one of sadness.

    Love too.

    "It's always worth talking to N-- Lt Onn," Graham says quietly.

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    Rangin takes a deep breath to maintain his patience. "Sir, both sets of data were provided by the colony. There's the set that I used in my original calculations that you used in the lottery program, and the set of data provided to me by Cmdr Vargas, which provides a completely different set of results when used with my proposal. I had under a hundred children in my data. The latter included 800.

    "The nomenclature of calling it Cmdr Vargas' data is purely to differentiate it from the set of data that I have. Otherwise we would be calling them colony dataset one and colony dataset two, and it is always good to name the source of any data, in the interests of clarity."

    Rangin hopes the explanation will finally settle in. He knows that Cmdr Vargas received it from the colony, where else is it going to come from. This is why Rangin is going to handle the data and Mr Dosmukhambetov is going to be handling the program.

    "Aside from that, yes, that provision needs to be in there. I'll prep the data with the links and impact ready to enter in." He picks up his datapad to start feeding the alternative data set in and getting a newly prepared dataset for the program.

    "You know what is truly galling, is that if my rough estimates are correct, we will still be saving and extra 40 or so people above and beyond the estimate. But hundreds of children are still going to die." He chokes slightly on the words and tries to focus on the data. "We could save them all, but the Governor stuck in that stupid rule. Well that's my opinion of it, what do you think?" he tosses the question to his companion hoping not to totally stew in the seeming futility of what he is doing...

    ..and wondering if removing the Governor and his family from the dataset would be appropriate. After all, a Captain should always go down with their ship, or colony in this case.

  9. #1809
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    Kylah's mouth opens to remind Lt. Thalen that he had allowed her as much time as possible--but she stops herself in time. He is a lenient superior, but not everlastingly so. And her lateness to this meeting must surely have cost her whatever patience he has left.

    "Yes, sir. I--I am very sorry about missing the first hail," she says, fingers pressing tightly into the datapad that now serves as shield. Anxiety makes her skin crawl as if infested with ants.

    As she too notices the supplies around her, she adds with a little swell of hope, "Do you think we--the Bridge crew--will have an opportunity to make sure our quarters are ready for additional occupants?" She tries to remember how long she has on her Watch, though exhaustion and nervousness seem to have slowed her synapses.

  10. #1810
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    Moved by Booker's gentleness, Nia offers what she hopes is a reassuring smile, which doesn't last long; too much time has passed already. "Thanks to both of you. But no need to dance around with formality--I'm Nia. And I'm glad to meet you," she adds to Marala, "though obviously not under these circumstances."

    She sighs. "I don't want to raise any hopes too much, it's just a possible loophole... I just have to check to see if my memory's off-base. Like I said, it should just take ten minutes or so for me to get to my quarters and look this up."

    Already sidling toward the door while she feels time slipping through her grasp, Nia tilts her head in that direction. "I'll be in touch. If you want a quiet place to talk, you might try the crew lounge on Deck 4." She eyes Booker. "Or just amble around Deck 5, even better."

    With a tight nod, she strides out--passing by Thalen and Kylah and all the others preparing for the onslaught. Nia whips out her communicator and taps out a quick message.
    JOHNSON, ANDREW - I know you're swamped with prep but please do me a solid and get in touch with me ASAP? Verbally if possible. No cracks about oral. I'll be waiting--literally life or death here. - NIA
    She sends the message even while her mind has briefly turned its attention elsewhere. The mattresses and supplies remind her that she should ready her own quarters. If any of the non-oxygen-requiring refugees get picked for the lottery, her cabin will almost certainly be their habitat. She's having the air turned off anyway, since every last molecule of oxygen will be needed elsewhere. Pure Bilitrium for a few days will feel like a spa experience.

    Hopping into the turbolift, she holds the handle and gives the deck number for her quarters. Her possible plan is crazy and probably not even a consideration in this day and age... but it's worth trying. She just can't remember the process or what's required. Please let Ajay remember!

    Impatient, Nia opens her communicator, praying she'll hear from her friend/sometimes-sex-partner/fellow schemer.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 14 Oct 2019 at 10:58 AM.

  11. #1811
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    Dosmukhambetov says, "Well, we have our orders. That decision was made by people a lot higher than our pay grades. But let me see what I can do." He turns to a Library Computer terminal and gets to work.

    Thalen says, "Fair point, Mr. Kylah. I understand that ship's crew will be consolidated in as few quarters as possible, and that evacuees will have a mix of vacated crew quarters, guest quarters and temporary quarters like in the corridors, conference rooms, the Shuttlebay, and so on. Why don't you take ten minutes, say, to get things in your own cabin in order, and then report to the Bridge?"

    Onn has just left and Marala looks like she's about to say something when Graham's communicator beeps.

  12. #1812
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    Lt. Thalen's suggestion is the best plan Kylah can reasonably hope for; she is in no position to request favors. With a nod and a breathless thank you, she rushes off as well as she can with her protesting sore knee.

    In the turbolift to Deck 7, she has a fleeting doubt as to whether she should stop to see Lt. Ferguson--just to tell him she will be stuck on the Bridge.

    No, she does not dare. In addition to her revulsion at the thought of being alone with him again, there may be others preparing their own quarters. She cannot afford to be seen anywhere near a transporter engineer.

    When the door whooshes open she heads to her room. Her plan is to lock her drawers, make sure her computer is secure and inaccessible, and, finally, pack a small bag of necessary items for three days.

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    Kylah reaches her quarters with no problem. Temporary bunks are being set up in the corridor there, too.

  14. #1814
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    Graham isn't able to figure out what Nia could possibly be hinting at before his communicator beeps.

    "Excuse me," he says, turning to Marala, before answering it.

  15. #1815
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    By the time Nia enters her quarters, she still hasn't heard back from Ajay. Frustrated, she surveys the mess in front of her. Uniform components--dress, underwear, stockings--and spare datapads are scattered everywhere, along with gym items and damp towels.

    Nia sets her open communicator on her desk and snatches up every item of clothing she’s left sloppily lying around her quarters and flings the whole mess into her closet.

    Her communicator buzzes as she's picking up her breathing mask and muttering insults to herself about her sloppiness. "Speaker on," she barks. “Ajay, is that you?"

    The clinking and banging of various kitchen implements echo through the speaker, but Ajay’s voice cuts through the chaos. "Yeah, more flour, for that... Hey Nia, what's up. Not a great time for talking, I'm trying to prep enough ongoing meals for 1200 people that need the least amount of storage."

    "Stop grumbling, we all have it bad during this clusterfuck. If you really didn't have time you'd've texted me. "

    "Oh all right. Ask away...no I said the potatoes, not the parsnips!...sorry, It's a bit manic. But I've always got time for a quickie with you."

    She smiles despite herself. “Thanks. Weird question, but--you remember that shore leave on Andoria last year? We picked up those two humans, I think you said they were French? And we made such a long night of it that we had to hop a freighter and beam aboard--”

    "Yeah, amazing what people will do to warm up on an ice planet. That was a fun night, getting caught in a small group on that caving trip, having to get all close and personal... "

    “Right, right. But remember after we left, mine got clingy and started sending me love notes and poems? Couldn’t take a hint. Then that final gift, a long book that was supposed to give me one big guilt trip… about some disfigured guy in ancient France, miserable with unrequited love... Any of this sound familiar?”

    Nia rolls her eyes as she searches for anything else she can stow away. Her inspection stops at her night table, where a beautiful flower and snowglobe gleam in the light.

    Cynicism melts into affection as she picks them up to stow in some safe harbor remaining in her quarters… which sure looked much bigger before she knew she might be playing host to a stranger or two.

    "Hmm. Oh yeah, he really got hooked on you didn't he? Given the current clusterfuck, why the hell are you thinking about what that fuckwit gave you, other than a requirement for medical shots? You didn't even like the story."

    “I liked what I could understand of--you know my reading of Fed Standard is still rough. Plus it was depressing as hell. You made fun of it, y’know, your usual sarky self--”

    "As I recall you ended up liking the kid's version better. So what about it?"

    “Some part in it that’s nagging at me, like some escape plan the hero uses for the to save the girl. I need to do a search but can't, 'cause I don't remember the title. You don’t happen to remember it, do you?”
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 16 Oct 2019 at 12:35 AM. Reason: Nia by Sidonian Gal, Andy Johnson by Rangin

  16. #1816
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    Everything potentially incriminating in Kylah's cabin, including her terminal and any datapads that might have sensitive material, is now locked and inaccessible. She does not care about her clothes or what little jewelry she has remaining, after the robbery on Anubis.

    Even the musical instrument near her closet is not her own, and while she supposes it would be proper to secure it as well, she shakes her head. Who knows? The people who stay here might know how to play a Vulcan lute. Music can bring comfort even in such dire circumstances.

    She takes her valise packed with her overnight items and places it near the door, ready to be taken and carried off to wherever she is assigned. Even if it is the Brig, she thinks dully.

    One last thing to do before she leaves. She flips open her communicator. Text or speech? A written message is certainly more dangerous than a brief conversation.

    "Ensign Kylah to Lieutenant Ferguson," she says softly into the device--as if anyone else is listening.

  17. #1817
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    "Report to my office, please, Mr. Graham, on the double," Vargas says to the Assistant Chief of Security.

    Ferguson does not answer Kylah.

    You each get a text from the First Officer on your communicators, marked URGENT:

    All officers and crew will double up in assigned quarters, effective immediately, to make room for evacuees from Novy Rostov. Please make arrangements to move personal effects sufficient for one week to the new quarters described in the attachment hereto, or to make room for other ship's personnel temporarily assigned to your own current quarters. Secure any valuables. If there are conflicts or difficulties of any kind, notify the Quartermaster, but be advised that requests for reassignment are strongly discouraged. This is a difficult situation and we must do the best we can under the circumstances. VARGAS.

    The attachment shows that Dr. Bennett is assigned to move in with Dr. Bucci. Graham and Mahmoud are to expect the arrival of Security Lt. JG Tadeusz Kawecki and Ens. Haakon Kjaerstad. Kylah may remain in her cabin, but will be joined by Engineering Lt. JG Demei Xiang. Onn is to move in with Lt. JG Melissa Tsu. Rangin and his hard-working and seldom-seen cabinmate, Engineering Ens. Charles Gordon, will be joined by Transporter Chiefs Nguyen and Harrison.

  18. #1818
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    Distracted by Lt. Ferguson's silence, Kylah reads the instructions sent by Cmdr. Vargas--and exhales in a bitter chuckle as she eyes her carefully packed bag.

    She is surprised there will be only one crewmate joining her. But on second thought, she assumes there will be a few refugees here. The quarters are spacious, and surely they can double up on the beds. Or triple up, she thinks, nibbling at her thumbnail. Kylah's two stowaways will need a place to stay. Perhaps in the chaos of finding everyone a place to settle, two more individuals will not cause much fuss.

    Again she stares at her communicator. Composing the least incriminating message she can, she comes up with:
    FERGUSON, MARK, LT - I will be on the Bridge. I wish you luck in transporting so many people safely. Do not hesitate to get in touch with me if I can be of any help during the process. -
    She sends the message and hopes, hopes he will fulfill his promise. She has nothing left.

    With a few gentle kicks she pushes the travel bag back into her closet, then heads out to the Bridge, communicator in her hand.

  19. #1819
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    The corridors are crowded with preparations for the evacuees, but Kylah is able to make her way to the Bridge. Lt. Bennett is in the big chair; she nods to Kylah and goes back to talking quietly with Lt. Cmdr. Sonak. Ens. Patel is still sitting at Communications and smiles when he sees her.

    Novy Rostov, far below, big and reddish-orange, turns slowly on the main viewscreen.

  20. #1820
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    The answer to Nia's question about the book is delayed by some orders Ajay is calling out to the team in the galley. Meanwhile she tries to find a safe haven for the treasured gifts in her hands. An epiphany sends her to look under her bed, where she's stowed several full storage cases--and one that still has just enough room for the globe and flower.

    On her knees, Nia grunts again while trying to pull the case out. “C’mon, Aje," she calls up to the communicator on her desk, "you’ve got a memory like a steel-trap for every trivial piece of my life you can use to mock me. Which one was this?”

    When he tells her, she closes her eyes, because of course, how could she forget this title? She sits back on her heels, staring at the sweet-scented flower and shining little snowglobe in her hands.

    "Thanks, Aje. I know it's a weird question but I can’t really explain more… for your own good. Knowing less is better for you. And it's your natural state anyway.” She smiles wanly. “God. After this we're gonna need some stupid-crazy-silly together-time. So many lives…” The words end in a sigh.

    As usual, Ajay keeps her from feeling morose. "My door's always open to you, you know that, even if you are shagging that grizzly. I'll fish out some bottles of something depraved and we can chill out, get drunk, play some games, and shut the world out for a few hours."

    His last word coincides with a jangling clatter of pans in the background. "Ah crap. Sorry Nia, gotta go but yeah we should give you a chance to blow off some steam...or anything else you fancy. See ya."

    The kitchen sounds abruptly cease as he cuts the connection. Nia hurries with her last task. She swaddles the gifts in soft clothes, shuts the top and slides the case back into hiding.

    There, safe and sound, she thinks with an exhale that releases only some of her tension. Hopefully she'll be able to provide as welcome a harbor for Marala and her child.

    Clambering to her feet, she grabs the nearest datapad and her communicator and nearly makes it through the door to her now-tidier quarters when she hears the familiar alert from her communicator. Priority message from Vargas.

    She scowls at the tiny screen. Tsu, the woman they've roomed her with, is perfectly fine, as far as Nia knows. But it's a bizarre choice to waste the oxygen in the cabin on a Sidonian who doesn't need it. Not when the ship needs every spare molecule.

    As per Vargas's suggestion, Nia considers this a significant enough issue to forward to the quartermaster. But first things first...

    At last she leaves her now semi-neat quarters, returning the communicator to her belt and flipping the datapad up in front of her. As she increases speed from a stride to a jog, her thumbs tap blindingly fast.

    She finds the text of the novel, then tries to find the specific term that the author used. Her pace slows while she scans.

    After a minute, she cries out "Yes!" Her memory of the plot point was correct--in fact, the device is used twice in the book. And only a few taps more get her to the open net, where a quick search confirms that this rescue strategy wasn't invented by the author. Seems to have been a tradition used in certain Earth cultures for centuries after the book's story was set.

    But it still seems to have been uncommon. She doesn't know enough about Terran history to do any real research. It might not have been picked up by the Federation or Starfleet.

    Nia lowers the datapad and stops second-guessing. All she can do is share the idea with Booker. He's a much better judge of the Federation and Starfleet rules and laws. He'll put it together, she can just offer him the assist.

    Continuing her way down the corridors, Nia swaps the datapad for her communicator.
    GRAHAM, BOOKER - Possible loophole found. Not sure it'll work, but it's a shot. On my way to Deck Five now. Can you and Marala join me ASAP?

    Meet me in the chapel.
    With whispered prayers to deities she's not even sure exist, Nia presses SEND and jogs off to the turbolift.
    Last edited by choie; 19 Oct 2019 at 03:19 AM. Reason: Nia by me, Ajay by Rangin.

  21. #1821
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    Marala looks at Graham, a wry smile playing about her lips despite her anxiety. "You're certainly in demand, Boojee. Which will it be first, the First Officer or Lt. Onn?"

  22. #1822
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    Graham grunts. "Dammit," he says, shaking his head. "Are you--are you OK with meeting Lt. Onn on your own? 'On the double' doesn't leave much room, and..."

    He frowns. "I'm worried things just might go to hell down there, Marala."

    Graham's intention is to hustle off to report to the First Officer.

  23. #1823
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    Kylah swivels in her seat and adjusts the chair's height so her legs do not dangle like a child's. As she rises slightly, she meets her colleague's smile with an abashed gaze. "Thank you for covering for me, Mr. Patel. I hope I did not inconvenience you."

    She peers at the panel and scrolls for the log of whatever conversations or messages came in over the past hour or so. "Is there anything significant that I should know? Any expected incoming messages I should remain alert for?" Her words are tense--she hopes she will find nothing connected to Ruth Soeryadjaya in any way.
    Last edited by choie; 24 Oct 2019 at 11:11 PM.

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    Marala squeezes Graham's arm. "I'll be OK. You go do what you have to do. I'll find the Chapel on my own." She turns to go.

    Patel says, "No, it's been OK. Welcome back. We're still being barraged with messages from NR, but the Comm Center is handling most of them, and just telling them to wait for the lottery to proceed. The Captain has had several priority messages from the surface and from Starfleet Command, but I've just passed those straight along to her." He leaves the Bridge. Kylah sees nothing from Soeryadjaya among the dozens of messages accumulated in the Comm logs since she left her post.

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    Rangin nods along to the words of Lt. Dosmukhambetov. "Much higher than our respective pay grades indeed. My datapad contains the initial program I wrote based on those requirements, if you want a copy sir?"

    He settles himself down at a nearby terminal and downloads the second set of Novy Rostov data. "Shouldn't take too long to get the data in the right format, most of the prep work is already done, it's just a matter of updating a few fields of data."

    The sooner this is done the sooner they can look at how they might consider confirming what they have before them.

  26. #1826
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    As Marala turns away, it's Graham's turn to reach out for Marala's arm. "Marala…"

    "Don't let anyone take you off this ship. They should contact me first. Your immediate and uninterrupted availability is essential to the safe and orderly evacuation of the colony, you can quote, from the Assistant Chief of Security....Please."
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 26 Oct 2019 at 11:48 PM. Reason: spelling fix

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    Dosmukhambetov accepts a copy of Rangin's program with a grunt and continues his work.

    Marala starts to puddle up. She kisses Graham, strokes his cheek, says solemnly, "All right, Booj, and thank you," and turns away.

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    Ten minutes later, Dosmukhambetov looks up from his terminal and tells Rangin, "I think I can squeeze the program to save another 20 people, for a total of 62 who otherwise wouldn't have made the cut from the preliminary lottery program. It's going to strain the ship's LS system almost to the breaking point, and Mr. Cheverez isn't going to like it, but I think we can do it."

    Marala shows up in the otherwise-empty Chapel and says, "Hello, Lt. Onn."

    Graham makes his way through the crowded corridors to Cmdr. Vargas's spartan office. Vargas does not invite him to sit down but says, "At ease, Mr. Graham. I want you to take a shuttlecraft down to the colony as soon as possible. I have an... unusual assignment for you. You'll pick your own landing party, of course."

  29. #1829
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    "Of course, sir," Graham replies, clasping his hands behind his back at parade rest and processing the somewhat cryptic order, while trying to look professional enough not to burn any--any more--credibility with Vargas.

    "I take it by describing it as 'unusual' this is not a straight up Security intervention to address unrest among the colonists? If things are calm...calmish...I'm glad to hear it....and I'll pick the landing party accordingly."

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    With another grateful nod to Patel, Kylah concentrates on the screen in front of her. The secure messages make her fingers twitch with the instinct to copy and crack them, hoping to find something useful for her uncle. Just as she has in the past.

    Her eyes close in contempt, despising that instinctive reaction. Is she not risking enough for Aldaan today? If she draws any extra scrutiny on her actions right now she would be in deeper trouble than ever--and worse, it could doom the two people whose lives are now in her hands. And Ferguson's.

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    Seeing Marala step forward into the chapel doesn't surprise Nia. Booker's absence, however...

    She adjusts her emotions accordingly. "Please, I'm Nia. Is... Is Booker not coming? This kinda needs his experience and his..." A hand flips over as she searches for a way to describe Book's intense desire--his need--to save the woman he once loved, probably still loves.

    Nia's also counting on his impassioned words and any sway he might have over Marala. The other woman might be too scrupulous, too moral, to take advantage of the strategy Nia is about to suggest. Even if refusing martyrs her and her son.

    Screw it. Clock's ticking.

    "Well, I'll make this fast. I'm sure you want to be with your son for as long as..." Nia stiffly shakes her head. That's too horrible a subject. "Look. I don't know if you're from Earth or--I mean, I have no clue about this except what I've read in old books, but--"

    Oh dear gods, stop rambling and start again. Get the hard part over first.


    She blurts the next words: "Is there any way you can get your son up here, just for a tour, say? Before you're due to head back down? You could explain that it's his last--" Nia bites her lip before rushing on. "Sorry to be blunt but there's no time for tact--his last wish, if the worst should happen? Maybe he's never been on board a starship like this. Never seen what the planet looks like from orbit..."

    Nia's scale-covered hands brush away the details. "Whatever, it doesn't matter what the pretext. Book's ACoS now, he can push through a beam-up. But--" She lowers her voice further. "Marala, are you willing to do that?"

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    "It is not," Cmdr. Vargas replies to Graham, folding his hands. "As strange as it seems, it's for the retrieval of a priceless artwork from the Novy Rostov Museum. The Van Gogh painting Poppy Flowers is far and away the most valuable and irreplaceable object in the museum's permanent collection. I'm told that, under Federation curatorial best practices, such artwork is never beamed anywhere, but must be physically carried. Don't ask me why - something to do with artistic integrity or provenance or the like. The imminent rho radiation burst would badly damage if not destroy the painting, as it's made of organic materials, so the Captain has agreed to the museum director's request that it be saved. You will take a shuttle down immediately to," he checks a data pad, "Landing Pad 3, and the director and a guard will turn it over to you. You will then return at once to the ship. Questions?"

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poppy_Flowers

    Kylah's earpiece sounds and she hears Lt. Thalen. The Yorktown's Communicators Officer says, "Mr. Kylah, please draft messages both for those individuals who are selected through the lottery, and those who are not. We'll do a ship-to-person transmission for everyone, using the comm roster we have from the NR government, once the lottery is complete."

    Marala says at once, "I'm willing, of course, but the Governor suspended transporter operations until the lottery drawing is complete. I'd understood that your Captain had done the same for the ship's transporters." She smiles a little wryly. "And would anyone really believe that my son would want a tour, or that I would ask for one, at a time like this...?"

  33. #1833
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    Graham blinks in surprise, then shakes his head slightly. "Sir, I honestly couldn't come up with a question in response to this...unexpected...assignment if I tried. I'll get to it."

    If not otherwise interrupted, Graham nods and, on his way out, pulls out his communicator. Onn's pilot. Medical--why not the new guy? Give a relative of Cecilia a mission opp. Security - Russell. Muscle, not quite Two Tons conspicuous kind of muscle, but good in a crowd. Eng - ah, Serowe. He scowls. Both Kylah and Rangin are invested in this. Well, if the picture is too heavy and we need to leave someone behind, Rangin's our guy.

    If he reaches the hallway, he calls for those personnel to report to the shuttle bay.

    Fuck, leaving someone behind...

    He texts Nia. Is Marala with you?

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    Vargas nods. "Very well, Mr. Graham. Dismissed, and good luck."

    Ens. Akinola Serowe, the Engineering general systems technician earlier useful to Graham for his resourcefulness and ability to find just about anything needed aboard ship, soon replies that he is on his way, as does Security Ens. Josiah F. Russell.

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    Thalen's voice may have continued, but Kylah stops listening after his instruction: she must write the message that will inform these poor doomed people that they have lost. That they will die.

    No, she thinks. Her head shakes in a useless gesture of disbelief. No, this is too much! She cannot have such a burden. How can he ask this of her?

    Because he can. Because it is her job.

    "Yes, sir." She waits in case he has further requests to add, and then rushes out: "Do you... do you have any suggestions? This is... it will be a challenge," she finishes weakly in extraordinary understatement.

  36. #1836
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    Nia meets Marala's gaze square on. "There are ways of getting past restrictions, if you know the right officers. Some people owe me favors--or wouldn't mind my being in their debt, for that matter. Some want credits. Book's an easy guy to want to please, for that matter, as we both kn--"

    She didn't mean to get that chummy, but what's the point of being coy? Nevertheless she hurries on, one shoulder lifting in a shrug that silently says: You get where i'm coming from.

    "And it won't be hard to convince engies or redshirts that a kid wants a last look of a starship. The chance of fulfilling that dream is why most of us entered Starfleet. They'll empathize."

    Nia subconsciously backs away from the entrance and, in the process, draws Marala farther into the chapel. "Look. There's a reason I asked you here, specifically. There's an Earth tradition, goes back a thousand years, not always followed but it varies... it's called sanctuary. Desperate people seeking asylum with nowhere else to turn have found themselves asylum inside religious buildings."

    She looks around at the nondenominational--but still strangely serene--room. "And while this ain't Notre Dame," she says dryly. "It could count. You're here. If we can get your son--ugh, it's ridiculous, I don't even know his name. What is it, and how old is he?"

    Despite asking the questions she rolls on like a tsunami. "If he can somehow get up here, the two of you can request sanctuary. Will it definitely work? No. It might only have 25% chance of success. But that's a gamble I'd take, as a mother. I mean... if I was a mother," she corrects, flushing. "I don't know how to get past the transporter issue, but I also think Book and I can do it. So--"

    Her communicator vibrates and she grimaces before recognizing the name. "It's him," she says softly, and notices that it's not a voice message. "Just a text. I can read and listen to you at the same time. What do you think?"

    While listening she scowls at Book's order and can't help a fast response.
    Honored to be asked, will meet you. But why the hell are we bringing a shuttle down there?
    Even as she types, a second, more personal question comes through.
    Yes, she's here. And for reasons better explained in person, if that's possible...I think she should stay here.
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 12 Nov 2019 at 02:06 AM.

  37. #1837
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    Sitting and waiting patiently for Lt. Dosmukhambetov, Rangin cannot help but react to the news, "That's really good. Wait. What? It's a random lottery with a variance greater than our capacity to cover it."

    There is a sinking feeling that his companion might be a great computer expert, but his knowledge of maths and probability is limited to calling the correct function instead of a deeper understanding. Definitely not a Data Scientist.

    Rangin mentally runs through some of the possible outcomes before speaking again.

    "Sir, if the lottery picks only adults, which is possible, then we can only take the agreed amount of 1200 people, whether we like it or not. Then again, if it picks just the right set of families with lots and lots of children, we can save two hundred or more people on top."

    Rangin shakes his head at the statement that had just been uttered. "Randomized data just does not allow for a constant fixed amount of people to be saved each time." He shrugs apologetically, "Sorry Sir, but if your program is giving out a constant of an extra sixty-two people, then your program is wrong."

    Sighing deeply and slowly grinding the toe of his boot into the floor, he begins to wonder if they are going to wind up using his rough-cut version from his datapad. At least, that is acting random, but still only returning an average of forty more given the data and random selection.

    And so many are still going to die.

    "The other issue I have is the data. I've had to make some very subjective calls about this in an objective manner. For instance, an orphan is a child that loses or is abandoned by both parents. But at what age does someone stop being a child?"

    Rangin holds up a hand to allay any response to allow him to continue.

    "I've found multiple different ages depending on species, culture and general law. I've picked eighteen earth years arbitrarily. Also the term family, I've used immediate family instead of extended family. Otherwise a few choices could have been for up to twenty people when you include brothers and sisters having families of their own. Little things, so many little things having an impact. And we only get to see the outcome..."

    Rangin gets a small flash of inspiration. Perhaps they can help out a little more than might be thought.

    "Of course, if we were to run the lottery millions of times, we could pick the one with the highest number of people saved...and it's still technically a valid random lottery draw if we did. Every draw being as likely as the next. Isn't it?"

    He looks across to see what the Lt. is thinking.

    "After all, we do want to save as many people as possible, don't we?"

  38. #1838
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    Thalen sounds harried. He says, "I appreciate that, Mr. Kylah, but needs must. A few sentences each will do; whatever you think best. The message to those who aren't picked should include an appeal for calm and should stress the importance of them remaining in quarters, for what little good I suppose it might do. I'd like to see your drafts as soon as possible, please. Thalen out."

    Marala replies to Onn, almost in wonderment, "Sanctuary, in this day and age? On a starship?" She shakes her head. "Well, why not? All right, yes. Thank you, Lieutenant. Let's try it. I'd do anything to save Nikolai."

    Rangin's communicator vibrates, and he reads Graham's text. A little distractedly, he hears Dosmukhambetov say, "I've run close to two million iterations already, and that was the best of them. We're running out of time. I'll tell the Captain what we've come up with." The Yorktown's computer chief reaches for the comm button.

  39. #1839
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    Graham is surprised by Nia's message...not upset

    Not enough damn time.


    He texts back: I need to know how to reach Nikolai on comms

  40. #1840
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    Nikolai? Damn, that sounds familiar... did Book tell me and I forgot? Nia shakes away her annoyance. Marala's willingness to go for the scheme raises a smile. It's clear to see what drew Booker to her. "Atta girl. Fortune favors the bold, as someone--"

    Another alert. She frowns at her communicator. "Why does he need..." Her brain clicks into gear, just the vaguest idea, but good lord, she should've thought of this herself.

    You sexy, smart son of a bitch, she thinks, a rush of admiration flooding her chest. How did you manage this?!

    Her gaze flicks back up at Marala. "Book needs to know how to reach Nikolai on comms. And he's getting together a team to go planetside--via a shuttle, piloted by me." She nearly grins, but things are too solemn for that. She satisfies the urge by arching an eyebrow. "Better than those pesky transporters, don't you think?"
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 12 Nov 2019 at 11:31 PM.

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    One does not need to be an empath to divine Lt. Thalen's mood. Kylah thanks him softly and looks at her screen in despair. How can she do this?

    She gnaws her lower lip and turns to the screen.

    After a few seconds she begins, leaving blank spaces for the unknown facts and variables that will, presumably, be part of the lottery data output.
    To [lottery winner name]:

    You [and your family, as appropriate] have been selected, through our random drawing, to leave the colony via the USS Yorktown, currently in orbit. Resources are extremely limited, so you will be allowed to take only what is absolutely necessary: medications, identification, the clothes you are wearing. [Instructions for departing.] For the sake of a peaceful embarkation, we urge you to remain in your units and avoid speaking to other colonists until you have safely boarded the ship.
    That was the easy part. She shakes her head, trying to find words that can possibly express such terminal news.

    Kylah is in such intense thought that when her communicator jumps in her hand, she nearly jumps with it. Pulse racing in hope that it is Lt. Ferguson, Kylah opens it to see a note from... Lt Graham. Her eyes widen: Has he learned of her scheme with Lt. Ferguson?

    But the message is curt. A shuttle back down to Novy Rostov? Why, and of what use is she?

    Kylah's dry throat attempts to swallow. Time is fleeting. Perhaps the sudden deadline will force the message out of her, bypassing her indecision. Pained, she rushes onward.
    To [non-selected colonist name]:

    We deeply regret to inform you that you [and your family, as appropriate] were not selected by our random lottery drawing to leave Novy Rostov. To our sorrow, the USS Yorktown lacks the resources to save more than the number allowed by our life support systems.

    During this grievous time, we request that you remain in your units. Chaos could doom everyone.

    Please accept our most sincere sympathies.
    Fingers frozen just above her keypad, Kylah stares at the stark text, blinking blindly. Nothing in her training, nothing in her life, has prepared her for such a heavy duty. I am sorry, she whispers to her screen, as if it could transport her grief to the vast majority of colonists.

    After looking it over, she forwards the drafts to Lt. Thalen and humbly says she hopes these are acceptable, adding, I have been selected for a mission to the planet, sir. I will need someone to relieve me.

    She turns to the woman in the captain's chair, belatedly realizing she should have asked her first. "Lt. Bennett, I have been requested as part of a team heading down to the planet. With your permission...?"
    Last edited by choie; 13 Nov 2019 at 01:29 AM.

  42. #1842
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    Thalen acknowledges Kylah's draft messages with a text: Thank you for your fast work. I'll take it from here. THALEN.

    Bennett seems a little surprised by Kylah's request but says, "Of course, Ensign. Call for your replacement - Mr. Patel, I think."

    Marala smiles broadly. "Oh, that's wonderful! My NR callcode is 3851135. Nikolai is at home with a family friend, Jeremy Cornwall. He often babysits for me."

    See post 1142.

  43. #1843
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    "One moment Sir, before you do." Rangin shakes his head, the stress is obviously getting to both of them while trying to do their utmost in saving as many lives. "I'm sorry sir, It looks like my presence has been requested. I have to report to Shuttle Bay. For reason or reasons as yet unknown."

    He tries to think quickly as to why the results just seemed so wrong from Mr Dosmukhambetov. Picking up his datapad and looking at the data, Rangin mulls over the basic facts.

    "Just thinking about this roughly. Over eight hundred children, on average taking half the life support of an adult. Chance of hitting a child is one in ten. For every two children you get another adult. But then for each child, on average the family will have another child. So pick a family and you get free adult. But the chance of hitting a family is not one in ten, it's one in five - it's the children and adults combined. We are taking fifteen percent of the population, so nine-sixty adults and sixty families. That leaves sixty places of which six will be families leaving another six places. So the average total is, let me see, twelve sixty-six adults and children."

    He frowns at the programmer, "That's the rough average. But we should be swinging higher and lower than that if it is a random selection. Please Sir, just, check over it once again, something is off somewhere. If you don't find it, then let the Captain know anyway."

    Putting it to one side, Rangin then stands up straight and furrows his brow trying to figure out what Graham is up to, other than trying to get an opportunity to leave him on Nocy Rostov. Oh wait, being on Novy Rostov is an opportunity to look at the other problem that had been baffling Rangin.

    "Actually Sir, it seems like I may be getting a chance to validate our Colony personal data for the lottery. You wouldn't happen to have something that could access the Colony computer directly if I am down there?"

    Rangin waits to see if the Lt is forthcoming before he has to head off.

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    Dosmukhambetov says, "The projections I've seen don't have each child using just half the life support of an adult. Given our very narrow LS margin for error, Mr. Cheverez was insistent on that." To Rangin's final question he says, "No, we haven't had direct access to the NR computer. All the data we've gotten has been with the help of the colonial government's computer staff. But good luck down there!"

  45. #1845
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    "Thank you, ma'am," Kylah says while quickly texting Mr. Patel and explaining the sudden watch change. If he confirms, she stands and, feeling awkward, leaves the Bridge for the third time today.

    Despite her short legs and still-sore knee, she moves quickly toward the turbolift while flipping open her communicator to hail Lt. Ferguson. Before she speaks she glances around to make sure she is not too close to anyone who might overhear. "Please, she hisses. "I am leaving for the planet for--I do not know why. But let me know when you are--when you are ready." She does not dare be too specific. "But contact me only by text! I may not be able to speak."

    She transmits the message, sending it directly to his inbox as a recording rather than a live hail. He needs discretion, just as she does.

    The irony of having to rely on Lt. Mark Ferguson's discretion is not lost on her.

    At the turbolift, Kylah just stands there, fretfully silent. Only after a moment does she realize she needs to choose a deck. Which transporter room? Usually it is the nearest one, so she clasps the turbolift's handle. "Deck seven."

    Too late she remembers--no, they are not beaming down to the colony.

    "No, wait!" Kylah claps a hand to push away her hair and press her fingers into her forehead, as if massaging her brain back into some semblance of utility. But it does not help her recall the deck where she can find the shuttlebay. She has not seen it since returning from her first mission. "I mean--the shuttlebay, please?"

    Now I am showing courtesy to the turbolift. Kylah sighs at her foolishness and lets her eyes close, exhausted.
    Last edited by choie; 15 Nov 2019 at 07:17 AM. Reason: Forgot Kylah always uses titles/ranks.

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    After Nia types Marala's number into her communicator and sends it to Book, she now feels comfortable returning Marala's smile, though hers isn't quite as broad. Sid'Os forgive me if we boost this woman's hopes too high.

    "I know the idea's archaic and insane, but if we're able to hold religious rites and sacraments and whatever-the-heck-else goes on in here, I think it counts. Whether 'Sanctuary' is followed now, I have no idea. Not my culture. But if anything's worth an emergency test, your situation is."

    While speaking, she multitasks and taps out a text to Lt. Hans Meyer to let the shuttle maintenance chief know she's heading to the 'bay and needs a shuttle. She's not sure which one... hell, she doesn't even know the point of this trip... but aside from some minor differences, each one's as good as the next.

    (Aside from her pride and joy, the Tesla--the experimental shuttle that she and a few engies have been tinkering with. But after the run-in with the Klingons not long ago, Nia's baby's been put back in pre-commission status pending repairs.)

    So Nia finishes the message simply asking for whichever shuttle's in position to depart from the bay, and for Hans to prep it for immediate launch including the usual pre-flight checklist; the chief knows the drill.

    She presses SEND again and the message heads off in the ether. But she doesn't look up from her screen.

    Truth is, even briefly thinking the word 'baby,' together with what they're all planning, has made her pause; re-opened a raw wound that hasn't ever healed.

    "Um...Marala, is there anything you want us to say to your boy?" It's hard to keep the discomfort from her voice. "To--you know, to make him feel safe, let him know that you'll be together...?"
    Last edited by choie; 15 Nov 2019 at 07:49 AM. Reason: writer's ocd.

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    Patel confirms and says he's on his way. He actually sounds a little pleased to be headed back to the Bridge.

    Ferguson soon replies via text, Ready in five minutes. Tell me when to begin.

    The turbolift beeps twice and changes direction, taking Kylah towards the Shuttlebay at the stern of the secondary hull.

    Lt. Meyer replies, The Kaku is fueled, checked and ready to go at any time. Cmdr. Vargas already asked her to be prepped. MEYER.

    Marala says, "Can I talk to him myself, or do you have to pass along a message?"

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    Kylah--who straightened her slump the instant she saw Lt. Ferguson's alert--stares down at her communicator, aghast. With just a few words, his message turns the turbolift into a trap.

    It is too soon, she did not expect the beam-up to occur so quickly. She must be there to see that the pair are safe and, above all, hidden. If Lt. Ferguson beams this pair directly to Kylah's quarters without her, there is the possibility that the crew member assigned to the room--Lt. or Lt. JG Xiang, Kylah cannot recall--will be there to witness this secret appearance.

    A flash of instinct causes an inhale, as she nearly orders the turbolift to change course yet again to take her to Deck 7. But how will she explain her absence to Lt. Graham?

    Frozen with indecision, Kylah closes her eyes, hoping to focus and solve her dilemma.

  49. #1849
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    The question lifts Nia's gaze, now blank as she processes Marala's request. A second later Nia almost smacks her forehead. "Of course! You have your own communicator. For some reason I... when Book asked where you were, I figured...." She purses her lips at her mind glitch. "Forget it. Sure, you can contact Nikolai."

    As the boy's name leaves her mouth, she abruptly reassesses the situation. Communications from the planet to the ship are being monitored, they're practically flooding the system. A transmission from here to the planet, however, would be unusual, could catch attention.

    And if they know Marala's communicating to the colony, they can identify her device as nonstandard Starfleet issue. And her precise location. From there she's just one lever pull away to being beamed out.

    Nia raises her palms up in a 'halt' gesture. "On second thought, we don't want to pin a bullseye on you. I'm not saying don't contact him, but make it as brief as possible. Text would be better, less of a blip of bandwidth, so less likely to be spotted. But I can't tell you not to talk to him. Any parent would. If possible," she adds quietly.

    Speaking of less likely to be spotted... She eyes Marala's clothing critically. The outfit stands out on a ship full of uniforms. If this chapel's going to be used for additional sleeping space--which seems probable--crew members might pop in and out. And what the hell will they think when they see this woman in civvies?

    "Okaaay, couple of things. First, you should probably wait in the corner over there, near the--" Nia eyes the front of the chapel and notes a podium of some kind and other basic sorts of furniture that must have great significance to whoever worships here. But hell if she knows what any of it's called.

    "Near the first, um, bench. And bend over like you're praying. Or meditating. Or... whatever, just blend in. Act as if there's a reason you're here." She smiles. "Other than possibly creating Starfleet legal precedent."

    Nia chews her lip while again looking Marala up and down, comparing their sizes. "Uh, one more crazy idea. Maybe we should swap clothing. You'll fit in well enough. With a ship this big no one recognizes everyone, except probably Captain Singh and a friend of mine in the Galley. Neither of them should show up." She hopes she's right about Singh. Although the captain might get involved once they invoke this ploy.

    "Plus, you'd look great in command red. And if I know Booker," Nia adds, eyes twinkling while one hand gestures towards Marala's figure, "I bet the dress'll highlight some of your best features."

  50. #1850
    Administrator choie's avatar
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    Kylah catches her breath when a thought reaches through her numbness. Hurriedly she taps out a response to Lt Ferguson.
    Do you mean you must beam up in five minutes, or simply will be ready to do so? If so how long a window is there? Can you stand by and wait for my word? - KYLAH
    Once the message is sent, Kylah gnaws on a thumbnail. The phrasing includes more detail than is safe, but her ability to use mere subtext right now is nonexistent.
    Last edited by choie; 16 Nov 2019 at 06:55 PM.

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