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Thread: Star Trek RPG - Mission #7: "The War-Brotherhood of Irkhuit"

  1. #701
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    Those who wish to may check your communicators from the storage lockers, and then put them away again before the Deputy Warden leads you through several more codelocked doors to a pleasant dining area, about twice the size of one of the Yorktown's mess halls. There are several dozen people there, mostly redshirts, but with a sprinkling of blues. She invites you to each pick up a tray and pass through the serving line ahead of her.

    Thick windows provide striking views out over the sandy, rocky wasteland of Jaros II outside, stretching to the horizon in every direction.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 30 Jun 2022 at 11:06 PM.

  2. #702
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    The rations are just fine, in Bizhi's opinion, but why not take advantage of fresh produce whenever it is available? He will try to bring something good back to Kylah--- doctor's prerogative--- if he can find some sort of container. She has obviously been cooped up in this conference room the entire time; why would she not want to come along? Rangin seems understandably eager to stretch his legs and to get out of here. But Bizhi does not have Kylah's measure to know if she is acting more strangely than usual.

    It looks like they are stopping next to the storage lockers to check their communicators. Communications are not truly blocked, then, or at least their equipment is on a temporary whitelist. The panel slides open in response to his thumbprint, and he sees Dr. Villa's message forwarded to his communicator. It makes sense that endocrinological changes could be the principal proximate cause of the recent mood instabilities Nia reported, or that they are both correlated to whatever is triggering these changes in a young, healthy woman, be it the high doses of artificial hormones she has been taking for years, or something else. It is something to discuss with Nia at the earliest opportunity privately, which probably means on the Yorktown rather than at a group table in a mess hall or in a crowded shuttle. He locks eyes with Nia, who just received the same data.

    The beautiful views outside remind him of home. The difference is that on Mars the habitats are no prison. One can, and he very often did, go right outside, properly suited up, of course.

  3. #703
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    Graham checks his communicator before following the Deputy Warden.

  4. #704
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    Graham finds a message from his wife:

    My dearest Boojee: I hope the mission is going well, and that you and Mr. Rangin haven't strangled each other just yet (however tempting that might be, for you especially). Take care of yourself, and good luck to you and your shipmates. I can't wait until you're back here on the ship and in my loving arms once more... but I suppose I must. XOXO XOXO XOXO and then some! Your loving MARALA.

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    In the secure locker area, Nia joins the other two lucky message recipients in checking her communicator.

    Turns out to be the second set of lab results. A swift glance takes in a bunch of numbers and acronyms she can't bother to decipher, although she can identify a couple of references to hormones. A few have "H" or "L" beside them, which she guesses means they're higher or lower than usual.

    Ha, knew it, Nia thinks with a little smirk of vindication. Hormones going crazy. Which is making me crazy. Well, Dr. M. said balancing 'em out would probably be an easy enough fix. After a mind-refreshing inhale, she admits ruefully that she must've been more anxious about the results than she acknowledged. Stupid tricky subconscious, she thinks with a chuckle.

    The lab report ends with a summary from Dr. Villa repeating in clearer language what all the medi-babble up above meant. Nia skims through an explanation that some of the hormone levels were anomalous; a note that the week Nia spent on pure Bilitrium when returning from Novy Rostov was clearly restorative to her tissues, with some chemical imbalance in her blood now that she's back to class-M atmosphere--well duh, Nia already knows that physically she felt like a whole new woman while hooked up to her precious Bilitrium tank. That's followed by even more good news that apparently her hepatic function is excellent.

    And, finally, a recommendation to speak with Dr. M. to discuss the anomalous hormone issues in more detail.

    Snapping her communicator shut and returning it to the secure locker, she again glances at Mäkeläinen and creates a little "mouth" with her hand, opening and shutting it in a fairly universal "let's talk soon" gesture.

    As she walks to follow Cmdr. Malaj, it's hard to miss Booker's intense stare at his own communicator, a look that's also not especially hard to interpret. Love note from wife, probably. Nia's energy flags, and her pleasure at the health news diminishes slightly, but the latter only lasts for a few seconds. Her step then quickens behind Malaj until they're in the dining hall. Nia grabs a tray and looks for anything light but sustaining--some protein and carbs, a sandwich would be ideal. She's hungry but needs to be alert, not logy. And the sooner they eat, the sooner she gets back to her lovely Tesla.
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 01 Jul 2022 at 01:14 AM.

  6. #706
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    Bizhi orders a double coffee (probably strong, in a place like this, if of unpredictable quality) and a sandwich for himself. He asks the server if there is any way to bring a portion of food back for someone who cannot be pulled off duty. Something that looks fresh and appetizing, like a fancy salad? He takes a little for his own tray, too, to go with the sandwich.

  7. #707
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    Onn is able to get a steak sandwich on Theban rye which, she finds, hits the spot very nicely.

    Dr. Mäkeläinen's coffee is indeed strong. It's not the worst coffee he's ever had, but neither is it the best. He selects a grilled cheese sandwich and gets a little tossed salad on the side; he gets a larger salad with grilled shrimp, the special of the day, to take to Kylah.

    The rest of the Tesla party select dishes for themselves.

    Malaj gets a plate of scrambled eggs and Alvosi pork sausage, washing it down with a big mug of spiced tea. Between bites, she tells Onn, "I've had your shuttle refueled and given a maintenance check. You should be good to go as soon as you like."
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 02 Jul 2022 at 10:50 PM.

  8. #708
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    Rangin smiles shortly after he lets slip his comment about prison food. He could see the subtle reactions from at least Graham, although the others seemed slightly taken aback. Of course, being held in a cell for a couple of nights is nowhere near as serious as it could have been, but everyone on Coridan knows that prison food is terrible unless you can afford to make your own arrangements. It’s just the way the system works.

    While the doctor, Nia and Graham go off to check their messages, Rangin hesitates. “Mr Kylah, are you sure there is nothing we can get you from the Mess Hall? Fresh fruit, pastries? Assuming we are allowed?”

    Regardless of the answer, he leaves with Rawlings, stowing his stuff and looking forward to the meal. The walk is pretty much as expected, only it has more of a clean, metallic, gleam than some of the places on Coridan.

    In the Mess Hall, Rangin looks out the windows reflecting on the rocky wasteland outside and thinking how much of an ideal place this is to hold people. Buildings like these are probably the only things on the planet's surface capable of supporting life without great hardship. He’s glad he is on this side of the windows.

    He heads across to the galley and gets whatever they have in the way of casserole. You never know what kind of surprise you might get it in. Of course, if Kylah has also requested anything and they are allowed, he will pick those up as well.
    Last edited by Rangin; 04 Jul 2022 at 01:20 PM.

  9. #709
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    Kylah sits in the quiet conference room, scrolling through the items she found in the Tesla's inbox. She reads the news about personnel--the reassignments, promotions and such--in the infinetesimally small possibility that she might recognize any names. She has already forwarded some of the other messages to the crew who might be most interested. Things such as the navigation recommendations, hazards and Security updates are sent to Lts. Onn and Graham; Science alerts to Velir.

    Speaking of the latter, Kylah has begun to regret having given him a small smile and shake of her head regarding his food offer. Now her empty stomach seems to be protesting the decision with little complaints of annoyance.

    At last she rises and heads off to see whether she can get back to the Tesla without any security issues.

  10. #710
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    Mid-bite of the large and satisfying steak sandwich, Nia hears Malaj's news about the Tesla. It's probably lucky Nia's mouth is full, because her first reaction is a flood of irritation and an outraged mental shout. What in the fiery acid sky made you think you could tell your crew to put their paws on my ship without informing me first?

    The shuttle is unique, with unknown (and in some very rare areas, confidential) upgrades that others might not know how to handle. No one's touched the Tesla but Nia and a select team of experienced Yorktown engineering crewmates. The prospect of some strange techs who probably don't get that much traffic performing maintenance is something Nia would've definitely wanted to oversee. Even if the vessel wasn't that special and personally dear to Nia. She's the pilot, damn it!

    ...But. Her reaction is over-the-top and Nia quickly realizes it. Truth is, the other woman is a commander, outranking Nia considerably, and such orders aren't only in Malaj's purview, they're perfectly normal--if not necessarily automatic--procedure. Most pilots would want the chance to oversee such things with unfamiliar techs, but that's not always possible or convenient.

    Nia takes a few seconds to simultaneously swallow the bite of sandwich, her own aggravation, and Malaj's decision. "Thank you, ma'am," she says once everything is safely packed down and her mood evens out. "That's considerate and should save us some time. We'll be departing soon. Once everyone's finished, I'll just go over the pre-flight check."

    She starts to consider wrapping the rest of the sandwich in a napkin and making tracks to see what in hell is going on. Again, though, she controls the impulse. Relax. We're likely in good hands. You're overreacting. Maybe the hypospray's wearing off. Plus she's tired, which isn't exactly a mood-booster. She reaches for her cup to get some more of that coffee-flavored sludge in her belly. Her system doesn't synthesize caffeine that well, but any bit helps.

    As Nia drains the mug, she makes a mental note to draw Dr. M. aside once they've returned to the secure lockers. Another zap of the medication would be amazing, if it's not too soon, and she might as well ask him for some confirmation of the lab results while she's at it.

    When her sandwich is finished, Nia gives a little tilt of her head to the others, tacitly asking them if they're almost done--adding an apologetic smile at Double-T. She knows just how ravenous his appetite is.

    Nia chuckles to herself as she replaces the items on her tray. And he likes food, too.

  11. #711
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    Eloquent romantic words aren't Booker's strong suite at the best of times, and Marala's loving note catches him a bit flat-footed.

    All's well here, back soon! Love Boojee he texts back.

    Lunch is indeed a far cry better than the much-maligned "prison food" of old Earth history--or, apparently, Coridan prison food...

    He's more than happy to return to the shuttle and then Yorktown after downing his meal.

  12. #712
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    Leaving emotions out of it, Dr. Mäkeläinen has to admit to himself that this facility is, in its own way, fascinating. No wonder many societies have their own lore about prisons, everything from taboos about the very mention of such a concept to jokes about the food. He can understand why Dr. Liang volunteered to work here--- one can do a lot of good if up to the unique challenges. On the other hand, one would be be stuck on this rock in the middle of nowhere.

    He finishes up his luncheon without any extensive conversational gambits toward Malaj or the other staff. Nia looks ready to get out of here, like she said, and, unless they want to have to beg for guest quarters, they should probably get moving while the coffee is still kicked in.

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    Rangin sees no casseroles listed among the daily specials, but when he offhandedly mentions what he was looking for, the chef obligingly - and surprisingly quickly - whips him up a small broccoli-and-wild-rice casserole, offering to pack any leftovers to go.

    Kylah vaguely recognizes some of the names in the Starfleet personnel updates, but there's no one whom she knows personally, and nobody aboard the Yorktown is mentioned. The most prominent name by far is listed under Retirements: McCoy, Leonard H., MD, Lt. Cmdr., Fmr. CMO, USS Enterprise, NCC-1701 - To Starfleet Reserves (Inactive).

    When she tries to leave the conference room, Kylah realizes she is locked in again.

    Rawlings has polished off two steak sandwiches, a side of Alvosi fries and three mugs of coffee in record time. He returns Onn's smile, stretches and rises from the table.

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    Rangin politely accepts the wild-rice and broccoli casserole with knowing eyes and a nod or two to show how much he appreciates the effort that went into it no matter how small. He passes on taking any more than the portion in front of him. As he sits down with the others looking pleased with the meal in front of him and ready to chow down until it’s gone.

    A prison vegetarian casserole. Could they truly be serious? Rangin is fairly certain that inmates had rioted for less than this. As in not getting something filling and vaguely stodely, but above all containing meat and veg. Especially meat. It may be of a variable quality or even origin, but it was still meat. The irony is that the food is really tasty as he consumes it.

    He can’t help but look around the Mess Hall and see it so relaxed and quiet, it just seems so unnatural for some reason. Finishing off the meal, Rangin thinks to himself that it is even more of a reason not to end up in a place like this, the food and ambience being so horribly wrong.

    He neatly places the cutlery on the plate and pushes it back, nodding to Lt Onn as he does so and signifying his happiness to leave.

  15. #715
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    Nia, amused by the amount of food that Double-T's consumed, makes sure that the others have finished--acknowledging Rangin's nod with a grateful look when he proves to be--and (if so) thanks Cmdr. Malaj again. "Thanks again for all this--both the tour and the meal. Compliments to the chef," she says with a friendly nod toward the Galley and an extended hand. "Are there any lingering details we need to exchange regarding the prisoner, or are we good?"

    To Booker nearby, she says, "This must've been what a friend would calla 'busman's holiday' for you, I suppose. Leaving our Security department only to go to a prison." Nia smiles and glances around the hall. "Or do you consider it a kind of window shopping?"

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    Graham can't help but laugh, not just because of what Nia said (which was funny) but also because they were...just talking. Talking normally. Talking in a way that had...

    Led me to fall in love with her...yeah, that...

    He shakes his head. "Ah, well, if I were really looking for a cushy gig...something post-Starfleet, no disrespect to this place, but I'd probably do better to scope out fancy resorts, the sort whose clientele demands top-flight security..."

    He pauses, becoming more somber. "I did a stint in law enforcement back on Earth. Even more so that seeing live fire combat in hot missions, it was...seeing the worst in people right there where it's supposed to be safe to live...that was the hardest. When you have a kid...uh, kids...to worry about..."

    He realizes he's taken a light moment into a darker place. Forcing a smile, he adds, "But Hutchinsons are few and far between, and I don't think any of her--his--whatever--kind are getting off this rock. So...the folks here can minds the bad actors while we get back to exploring the stars, right?"

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    When the door refuses to open, Kylah cannot help the burst of anxiety that turns her limbs to ice. She backs up a step, the movement stiff and awkward. Automatically she pivots toward the other door leading to the rest of the complex. That will be locked as well, of course. And due to the reinforced walls she still cannot sense anyone. Not the slightest hum of emotional activity. A silence she always sought as a child, and on the ship too, but it has been elusive aside from various medical events.

    She takes several deep breaths and exhales. Her heart rate is erratic but it begins to calm down as logic kicks in. Of course the room has been heavily secured. It is a prison, not an office building. This is totally normal--and, as much as claustrophobia may wish to control her, Kylah's more rational side reminds her that while it is true that she cannot get out, this also means the convicts cannot get in. No one will enter except her crewmates. Or perhaps just the stockade's Security officers or other prison personnel.

    Being alone with strangers causes another little sting of electricity and adrenaline. Her hand claps onto her communicator, but... of what use is it?

    Stop. Strangers or not, it does not matter. I am safe. This is completely safe. Anyone working here will have been vetted. Look at the new people I have met recently. Carlos. Dr.--Bizhi. And...and that man at Lt. Graham's wedding... Kylah's brow furrows as she tries to remember the officer's name. No, it is temporarily gone, probably just because of a little hunger and anxiety. Well, her point is that the new acquaintances have all been congenial and kind. Odds are the same will be true of the staff here.

    Teeth gnawing at her lower lip, she gazes up to see if there are any cameras--even though Velir already did so earlier. Then she walks--still disjointedly, but not painfully so--to her seat and the tricorder still on the table. With a sigh, she closes her eyes, waits for the absurd panic to abate, and returns to scrolling the updates for something diverting.

  18. #718
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    Mäkeläinen looks to see what the regular prison staff do and follows their lead as to whether to leave his used plate where it is or to put it somewhere.

    He hears Graham's remark and says, "We never found out if the prison theatre is any good. There may yet be a few good actors."

  19. #719
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    Malaj tells Onn, "I haven't heard anything more about Hutchinson's intake process, so I can only assume it's gone well." She sets down her tea, wipes her lips, leans in and says quietly, "I don't know what your Mr., uh, Kallah's expecting from her correspondence with the prisoner, but I have to say, that was a weird request. Had she said anything to you about it beforehand?"

    The Deputy Warden overhears Dr. Mäkeläinen's remark, smiles and says, "Yes, the theatre program here is pretty good. We find it's a great way for the prisoners to fill their free time and work together to do something constructive. And we do have some very talented performers; the run of A Spacesuit Built for Three last month had everyone rolling in the aisles."

    Kylah sees several of the small black sensor nodes in the conference room; presumably they include audiovisual pickups. None of the other Starfleet comm traffic is quite diverting enough, under the circumstances.

    Everyone is now done with their lunch. The table is cleared by cafeteria staff after you get up to go.

  20. #720
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    Nia's about to make a riposte regarding Booker's idea of a cushy job when he goes on. All she hears is what sounds like a purposeful reminder that he has a "kid" -- no, now it's multiple "kids" -- and her expression freezes into a tight, polite smile, an attempt to prevent her eyes from looking hurt or her mouth from saying what leaps to mind.

    Why would you say something like that to me? A dig? Do you seriously not remember I gave all mine up? Five? Even as it flashes into her consciousness, though, she realizes... maybe he doesn't remember. Maybe he never even knew. Did she ever give him any details about her past life? He knows she's given birth and obviously has no child to speak of, but did they discuss just how many times she went through the agony of loss?

    And if they didn't... what the hell kind of relationship did they have? How shallow was their connection, at the end of the day? It ran deep for me. Obviously not for him.

    The thought is sullen, and she doesn't like sullen. She has to face up: It's not about you. You're not in the picture. He's just happy he has a whole family again.

    Fortunately Dr. M. inserts a joke--at least, she thinks it's a joke; maybe he didn't understand Booker's meaning?--and Cmdr. Malaj saves Nia further by interrupting with a remark about Kylah's weirdness. Which couldn't be a more perfect diversion.

    She unfreezes her face and turns to Malaj, echoing the other woman's quiet tone. "Trust me, I was surprised by that 'request' to Hutchinson too. But that's nothing new. The ensign's behavior can be--well, pretty impulsive."

    Nia's annoyed enough to just let the insults fly with Kylah as a convenient target. But the girl's on her team and shouldn't be badmouthed by her commanding officer. "She's young and green and practically fresh from the Academy. Her stint on the Yorktown has consisted of a veritable stream of criminals of one kind or another. Maybe she's gained a morbid interest in the subject?"

    She picks herself up and concludes with a weary sigh. "I'm assuming correspondence is monitored? If there's anything inappropriate, I'm sure you'll get in touch."

    At last there's no real way to avoid Booker, and by now Nia's subconscious has magically come up with a decent response. "If you're looking for a cushy job at a resort, seems like the folks from that spore spa on OCIII oughtta be thrilled to have you. You're basically their savior."

    She hesitates before continuing lightly. "Sweet setup you'd have there. You'd get to spend your days bravely policing the rich snobs; Marala can run interference between the guests and staff and whoever else lives there. And Nikolai could get a tutor and learn how to play croquet or Parrises Squares or whatever recreation young boys like. Boom, a pretty chic place for the Graham fam to end up..." Steeling herself, she makes sure her smile's in place and her voice is casual. "If you're planning on leaving us, I mean."

    Damn it, the words are hoarse and somewhat breathless despite her efforts. With a cough and quick snap of her head in the direction of the exit, Nia gives a signal for everyone to get going.
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 07 Jul 2022 at 11:42 PM.

  21. #721
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    "A 'stream of criminals'?" Cmdr. Malaj repeats. "Hmm. Not the typical early Starfleet career, that's for sure. Well, their correspondence will certainly be monitored; all prisoner communication with the outside is. You can be sure you'll hear from us if there's a problem."

    She leads the Tesla crew back to the shuttlecraft, resting in its bay, and releases Kylah from the conference room. After you've recovered your communicators and other gear from the secure storage lockers, she says briskly, "Thank you again, Mr. Onn, and the rest of you. Good luck on the next leg of your trip."
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 10 Jul 2022 at 02:11 PM.

  22. #722
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    Dr. Mäkeläinen politely thanks Malaj for her hospitality. Our visit may not have been especially extraordinary for her, but at least it was a break in routine, and that is always--- well, usually--- welcome.

    He is probably not the only one who feels a little better with some food and drink in him after what amounts to a double shift (with still some travelling to do!); speaking of which, he smoothly hands Kylah her salad as if she were expecting it: "It's better to eat real food when you can get it. Doctor's orders."

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    Rising when the others return to the conference room, Kylah takes the proffered salad container with surprise and gratitude. "Why--why thank you, Doctor. You need not have done this, but it is very thoughtful. I admit it does look better than a protein bar." She smiles up at him and then glances curiously at the group as a whole. Some are evincing some odd emotions, too diffuse for her to try to analyze. (And she is not inclined to do so.)

    She joins her colleagues, falling in line near Velir. "It will be good to get back to the ship," she murmurs.

  24. #724
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    Nia offers a hand to Malaj, if she'll shake it, and thanks the commander for everything. As the six of the Tesla-bound crew start to walk toward the shuttle, she hesitates and, with a little nod toward Dr. Mäkeläinen, says a brisk, "Doctor, a word?" To the others, she says, "The rest of you, go along and take your seats. We'll be off as soon as I make sure everything's copacetic."

    If he agrees, she draws Mäkeläinen aside and waits until the other officers move far enough away to afford her some privacy.

  25. #725
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    Graham heads to the shuttle, making a mental note of the fact that--putting two and two together--Nia has been chatting with the doctor kind of...sotto voce a number of times on this mission.

    Good news--the new doc seems to be a smart guy, cracks a joke--clever, but not an asshole like Rangin.

    Worrisome--is Nia sick? Aside from being...unhappy...with me, could that explain her...our...things seeming not quite right?

    At the moment, he has nothing but a slight instinctive shake of the head and a frown to offer as a follow up as he takes his seat.

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    Malaj shakes Onn's hand and smiles. She says, "All the best, Lieutenant," and turns to go.

    Onn and the good doctor have the chance to talk.

    Rawlings is first to reboard the Tesla.

  27. #727
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    An uneventful trip to prison, Rangin muses, which is the best kind of trip to a place like this. Satiated by the meal and the gentle lack of anything involving excitement, he is happy to take his place back on the shuffle.

    He is not sure what to make of Dr. Mäkeläinen’s delivery of salad to Kylah, seeing as she hadn’t asked for anything, but it seems she is capable of handling whatever is passing between them. He wonders what would have happened if he had bought something back from lunch. Would Kylah have welcomed it as much as she just has now or have turned it away as she had declined once already.

    Dammit, it’s difficult to figure out, and Rangin tries to calm his nerves and stop his imagination running away with itself. This is what you get for being bored and now he has a ten, maybe twenty, hour long trip in a shuttle with little to think or do. He hopes he can find something of more than a passing concern before he finds himself in idle chatter and trying to find out what Dr Mak. is up to,

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    Kylah walks up the ramp and through the hatch, looking around at the familiar interior of the shuttle. It would be nice to change seats--for her to sit next to Velir, and the doctor and Mr. Rawlings beside one another. But their respective instrument panels are in fixed spots, so she supposes they will be settling down in the same positions.

    She sends Velir a slightly apologetic smile as she passes by, fingers brushing the chair's back gently before heading to the comms station. Setting the salad bowl in her lap, she flips and taps the various switches and buttons to bring the panel back to life.

    While waiting for the journey to begin, Kylah takes advantage of her discreet seating arrangement in the back and pries open the salad container. Her attention is aimed squarely at the fresh, peach-white shrimp, and with her fingers picks one up for a bite. Delicious. She casts a grateful glance at the seat across from her, where the doctor should be. But it is still empty. Chewing contemplatively, she looks around the shuttle and decides to move up one row, across from Ens. Rawlings (to whom she nods, a little bashfully due to the salad she's chomping on) and behind Velir. Surely spending a little time being sociable will not be amiss.

    "This is very good," she says to both men, unconsciously reverting to her familiar role from back home, as a host welcoming guests to a meal. "Would either of you like some?"

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    Rawlings pats his stomach. "Kind of you to offer, Kylah, but no thanks. I had a pretty big meal of my own. Looks good, though!"

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    * * *

    Bizhi is retrieving his gear when Nia draws him aside. He meant to talk to her soon, especially after Dr. Villa's message, but was envisioning a consultation back in the Yorktown's Sickbay, or at least someplace private. Most habitats he is familiar with have at least minimum surveillance for dangerous air leaks, radiation, fire, explosions, etc., and the Jaros II stockade is surely no exception, but the visible and invisible sensor nodes here strongly suggest that their conversation is being recorded by the station's computer, and who knows how much interest they have aroused?

    Nia stands tall in front of him. "Sorry to pull this cloak-and-dagger stuff, but I don't need the crew knowing my business. Truth is--and at the risk of sounding like an addict--I could use a top-off of that hypospray. It's just my head's a little foggy and my mood's skittering around like a loose bolt in an engine. Is that normal with these meds?" She shrugs. "It didn't seem to run out so quickly yesterday, but it has been a pretty long day, so..."

    Bizhi nods sympathetically and assesses quickly. That does sound— not like a strict emergency, but definitely something that needs to be resolved, now. He looks at Nia. Does she seem enervated? Their whole team is understandably a little tired and cranky by now; he, for one, would not mind a quick kip (and maybe he can get one, on the shuttle). He does feel somewhat better after sitting down and getting some food in him.

    "It's normal," he explains. Not ideal, but not an atypical reaction, or by itself an indication of a serious problem. "I would be more concerned if you had been taking regular, fixed doses for several days and then something changed all of a sudden. Right now, I strongly recommend taking a break, getting some rest. You'll feel heaps better. I think you're right about it being a long day for all of us. I could use a nap myself. I know it's some fancy piloting to get us back out of here, but, once we're clear, perhaps let someone take over the controls for at least a couple of hours?

    "If I give you another hypo immediately, here is what will happen: you will feel great for a few hours, but, especially if you push yourself and don't get any rest, I would lay even odds on the same thing creeping up on you again. Possibly worse, possibly with a painful headache. And that is the maximum dosage, so I won't be able to give you any more if you are out of commission at that point. I can't give you any stimulants, either; they are dangerously incompatible with this medication.

    "I trust your judgement on this, so if you feel you absolutely can't fly safely otherwise, I'll authorize another dose. But you have to get some rest, in any case."

    With a tilt of her head, Nia appears to be mulling over his words; this gives him time for a further visual examination. Her eyes seem a duller green than back in Sickbay, but the difference in ambient light and Sidonian biology make it hard to judge if this is significant or even accurate.

    Her warm brown skin has a sheen of blue he didn't notice before, possibly from her scales. It's difficult since he doesn't know her that well and the reflection of the light could be bringing out subtle shades he didn't notice before. Otherwise she seems fine, albeit tired.

    Suddenly she puts her hands on her hips and smiles. "You're right about that minefield maze waiting for us, too. I want to be as alert as possible for that. And I planned to take a nap anyway, once we're in safe territory. Book--Graham'll have a chance to refresh his piloting skills."

    Nia twists slightly to look at the rest of the crew heading toward the Tesla. "So I guess I'll take the zap of energy now and deal with the consequences later. Sound okay?"

    Bizhi nods tersely.



    Bizhi by stolz, Nia by SidonianGal

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    Bizhi notices that some of the crew are already darting glances their way. He hopes nobody gets an early impression of him as some sort of Dr. Feelgood, with a chemical solution for whatever ails you. He is concerned about Nia's privacy, too. After they talked earlier, before the prison tour, he thought about possibly giving her a pre-programmed hypo, along with instructions on how to operate it, to use later, should it become necessary. But he was not expecting it to be an issue during the rest of the mission, certainly not this early.

    "Same as before, then. Lexorin, seventy-five units..." The bag he pulled out of the locker is already in his hands. The top opens for easy access, and he selects a metallic hypo injector from among the several instruments secured by bits of webbing. This model is simple and reliable, but not particularly unobtrusive. He finds the right vial, inserts it into the end, and double-checks that the volume is still set correctly, from when he used it before.

    From his peripheral vision he sees Nia lifting her left arm, and she moves slightly so her back is to the shuttle. Probably privacy is on her mind, as well.

    "So," she says conversationally, "I got the test results back from Dr. Villa. You must've seen them. Looks like I was spot on about the--"

    "Hold still for one moment," he warns. He gently but firmly presses the injector head into Nia's upper arm, and the medicine is released with a pneumatic hiss. It is all over in a second.

    He notes her slight wince. It's followed with an off-center smile. "Takes a lot to make sure my scales don't try to protect me from that. If it's like last time, I'll start feeling it soon, here's hoping." Nia rubs her arm at the injection site. "Anyway, thanks, Doctor. I'll let you know if anything starts to feel hinky."

    As he begins to pack up, she watches him with what appears to more energetic curiosity. "I was gonna say, about the results Villa sent? What little I could translate seemed to confirm what we were talking about yesterday... that my up-and-down moods are related to hormones. Some levels are too low, others too high, a real mess."

    Nia chuckles and again plants her hands on her hips. "Kinda glad, to be honest--hey, at least I'm not going crazy. Good news about the Bilitrium therapy having a good effect on me, too. Although she's right that going back to breathing regular air's taking a little getting used to; sort of feels like inhaling in a thick fog. Anyway, with the hormone thing.... what's the game plan? Changing contraceptives, like I thought? Supplements?"

    "Probably both," says Bizhi, "and we will want to to scan you again, to double-check all the levels and concentrations. I mean to go over all the numbers with you, preferably someplace with less of an audience, and in less of a rush." How to put it? "You are right, changes in hormone levels can absolutely contribute to less stable moods, and generally feeling off. That could certainly account for what you've been experiencing. But we also know you have been taking different contraceptives for years, and you are strong, and healthy, so whatever it is that is causing significant shifts over a short period of time, a few months in this case, that is the question."

    He does not want to call her "a unique case," but that is what she is. Seeing her again up close— scales, breathing-gas supplements, imperfectly understood biology— rubs his nose in the fact there is so much missing data.

    The woman in front of him raises an eyebrow but keeps her scrutinizing gaze steady for a few moments. "Less of an audience," Nia repeats at last, taking one quick look backwards before returning to Bizhi. "I'm not shy, and even if I was, everyone's back on the shuttle and the techs are far away. But now I'm..." Her head tilts again. "I'm wondering why you think I should be shy about something so minor as wonky hormones. Did Villa tell you something else I should know? Like why this stuff is happening?"

    "It's not about being shy. You could come in with a cut on your finger, doesn't matter what, we take privacy seriously. Even the captain can't pull up medical records unless it is necessary to ensure proper execution of missions. Dr. Villa did not propose any aetiology, I mean, assign a specific cause for the hormone levels because, honestly, we are not sure yet. But, based on what she knows about Sidonian biology, they are significantly out of the normal range for a woman your age."


    Bizhi by stolz, Nia by SidonianGal

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    Inside the shuttle, the waiting crew get into their seats. About ten minutes pass before Onn and the physician finish their conversation and head toward the Tesla, with Dr. Mäkeläinen briskly entering the shuttle. From Graham's position in the copilot's seat near the open hatch, he can see Nia walking at a deliberate pace before she greets the prison's three-person technical crew and accepts a datapad to run the pre-flight check.

    Kylah notices that Rawlings has dropped off into a nap, his treelike arms crossed over his chest.

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    Ten minutes...?

    Graham tenses, every instinct wanting to jump up and ask Nia if she's OK...

    Except there's no way to do that privately without some kind of kerfluffle, and if she wanted me to know, she'd have told me...

    He shakes his head clear and frowns, then collects himself and swallows his worry.

    Routine mission, treat this like a routine dust off...if she wanted me to know, she'd tell me--I don't have any special claim to...intimacy...any more.

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    Dr. Mäkeläinen acknowledges the shuttle crew with a professional nod, and claims the remaining available seat in the back. He tries to relax; when the coffee wears off he will want to follow his own advice and snooze for a bit. Rawlings has the right idea.

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    Rangin can feel the time slowly crawling with the silence only being broken by the sounds of Rawlings heavy breathing and Kylah’s quiet chewing on her salad. From his position he can see Graham sitting still in the co-pilot seat and Rangin wonders what is going through Graham’s mind as he can see the officer looking out at Lt Onn in the far distance.

    With little else to do, other then get comfortable in a seat he will be occupying for the next few hours, Rangin pulls out the datapad and starts reading again until the shuttle is ready to depart.

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    Back in her own seat near the comms panel, Kylah continues to finish her salad, feeling less self-conscious now that the men around her are in their own private worlds. She glances over to the panel beside her and ponders the improvements that have been made to it. Having more powerful instruments available shuttle-wide should make journeys away from ships or space stations much more secure.

    She wonders if the Tesla is capable of contacting the Yorktown directly. The prospect seems doubtful. It has been at least an hour since the shuttle was actively receiving messages; she believes those in the buffer that she downloaded to her tricorder back in the conference room were all timestamped earlier than that.

    Of course, the time would make no difference regarding the stationary beacon transmitters from which the shuttle received the Starfleet data. They are essentially no farther away than before. The Yorktown, however, is a different story. Traveling at warp speed, the ship will be an even greater distance from the Tesla by now. Kylah is curious to see if the shuttle's receiver is still able to get in contact. Unlikely, but once they get moving it might be easier. Her guess is that messages will take longer to relay, likely without the ability of real-time conversations. They will probably have to wait until the Yorktown reaches its destination and the shuttle finally has a chance to get closer.

    She should ask Lt. Onn what other improvements have been made to the Tesla. Assuming the older woman would tell her. She might think I would not understand. Or care. Kylah sighs and looks ahead as she finishes the last shrimp.

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    The act of running through the shuttle systems status is pretty much rote, something Nia can practically do in her sleep. But despite the racing thoughts threatening to distract her, she successfully puts the full force of her concentration on both the datapad in her hands and the voice of the crewman beside her, answering her clipped questions.

    Blindsided as she was by the conversation with Mäkeläinen, Nia can't risk obsessing on it, not right now. The Tesla is new, this is a test run, they're far from any assistance from the ship, there are mines all around them... Paying attention to the pre-flight process is always essential, but it's even more vital than usual. She clings to that knowledge of her responsibility and remains in charge, professional, focused on her current surroundings.

    Even so she almost hopes some anomaly crops up during the check, something she'll need to help fix that'll keep her mind and body fully occupied. Her hands and feet feel numb. And she's not looking forward to walking up the ramp and sitting beside Booker and her colleagues. Because once they get out of the planet's minefield labyrinth, Nia dreads having nothing to do but contemplate the long, empty journey she's now--somehow, inexplicably--facing.

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    With a determined effort, Onn is able to focus. She finishes her preflight checkout and receives departure clearance from SPJ2 Command Center. She closes and seals the Tesla's hatch, restarts the engines, lifts off and skillfully guides the shuttle back out through the minefield and other security measures. She finds that it's actually, and blessedly, easier the second time 'round.

    Soon the shuttle has left the Jaros system and is in deep space again, swiftly headed towards her rendezvous with the Yorktown.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 23 Jul 2022 at 10:48 PM.

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    Dr. Mäkeläinen keeps half an eye on Onn, for whom, he worries, their conversation could have been neither satisfying nor reassuring. He is not surprised to see her all cool business, like when he first saw her, despite everything. He satisfies himself that there are no unexpected reactions to medication, or any other trouble, and then tries to get a little rest, with the main part of the mission now essentially over.

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    Having left the minefield maze far behind--with significant help from the nav panel's ability to recall and reverse the path they took to get inside--Nia sits back in her chair. She almost wishes it had been a little harder to navigate; better to use her brain power for a necessary task than reflect on other things.

    It's not possible. It just isn't.

    Nia shakes her head and straightens up again. She rubs her arms, which seem a little cold--and besides, she needs the self comfort. Get back to work. Find something, anything. After a moment of silence that's dense and smothering, she inhales deeply to clear her head.

    "What's up next?" The words are so husky and inaudible that Nia realizes her acting co-pilot might not have heard her. She casts a glance at him, barely long enough to meet his gaze, and speaks with as much firmness as she can muster. "Booker, where are we headed?"

    A second passes before she recognizes the ambiguity, and she rouses herself to clarify. "What systems are coming up? Anything you can tell us about them?"
    Last edited by SidonianGal; 25 Jul 2022 at 06:44 PM.

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    Graham's overwhelming instinct is to lower his voice and ask Nia if she's all right - but his remaining instincts punch above their weight arguing this is not the time or place.

    "Ah, well if all goes well we're meeting Yorktown at Cavinre VII..." He pauses and scowls. "Might be Security work to be done there - don't know a lot of details offhand, but there's a pattern of unrest, protests...if I recall correctly the government's kinda...ah, shitty. Federation embassy could be a target...or just collateral damage, if things go South." After a moment, he adds "I can pull some data while we're onroute, N- Lieutenant."

    He clears his throat and shrugs. "More pressingly, but, fingers crossed, irrelevant--we'll be passing within spitting distance of Romulan space. I don't know of any current alerts about activity in the area, but...just to be safe...I'll run a check right now."

  42. #742
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    Despite her mood, Nia's lips twitch with a minuscule smile. Security Officers. Gotta love 'em.

    "I remember our destination, Lieutenant," she says--intending to invest the words with some warmth, but there's no internal furnace to stoke. Still she tries. "I was actually asking you to play nav for me. Wanted to know what milestones we'll be passing on the way to Cavinre.

    "But you're right, you should focus on just how long we have until we're at our closest to Romulan territory. Or before that--how long until they're capable of spotting us at all, given their sensors and spy beacons."

    While Booker focuses on that, Nia rallies the energy to swivel her chair and re-target her original request behind her--to Rangin, aka the sensor guru. "What, if any, systems or lone outposts or really anything remotely interesting will we be encountering over the next eleven or so hours?"

    She could do it herself through her own nav panel, of course. But she wants to keep the crew engaged. Her own head's not in the game and maybe some chatter will unfreeze the brittle, icy shell that's forming around her.

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    From his observations of Onn since leaving the prison, Dr. Mäkeläinen sees nothing medically amiss with her. He could run a tricorder scan of her, but she, and others, would surely notice it in the relatively tight confines of the shuttle.

    Graham's long-range sensor scan shows no other ships in the vicinity, and nothing not already on Federation charts. Cavrinre VII is still almost eleven hours away, as Onn noted; it will not come within scanning range until the last hour or so of the trip. There was nothing in Kylah's download of recent Starfleet communications traffic relating to Jaros II or this region of space. Your destination has been getting some attention on the civilian newsnets in recent weeks, however, due to the ongoing civil unrest there, the planetary government's repressive response and, of course, intermittent threats to the Federation embassy. The USS Yorktown's dispatch to the system has not yet become public knowledge, but one might reasonably expect that it soon will be.

    Graham and Rangin may check the onboard library computer, if they wish, to gather additional information on the route.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 25 Jul 2022 at 10:49 PM.

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    Rangin hears Lt Onn’s command and looks up from his datapad. “Aye Ma’am,” he responds quietly not really wanting to break the relative peace and quiet in the shuttle.

    It seems like a reasonable request and he starts pulling up the course they should be on and the details of any planets, spatial anomalies and the close proximity of the Romulan border they had been warned about before the shuttle left on its mission.

    While he doesn’t want to tell Lt Onn her job, it suddenly occurs to him, during his search, that she is a pilot and not a navigator, although she certainly has the skills to do both. But the few pilots he had known were far more likely to cut as much time off as possible and the thought that it might involve skimming the Romulan border instead of giving it a wide berth, starts to make him just a little nervous. He pulls up any known incursions of the Romulan over the border to make sure they are well clear of any known range should they decide that the shuttle is a tasty target for them.

    He glances up a few times to Lt. Onn and then back to results coming on the onboard library, wondering how far he should go and what facts to present, when they do arrive.

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    Rangin learns that there are four star systems along the shuttle's route to Cavinre VII. Two are in Federation territory, on just this side of the Neutral Zone between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. They have both been surveyed but are uninhabited and have no Class M worlds.

    Two systems are in unclaimed or independent territory, neither in the Federation nor the Empire. One has a Class L world, Ollos, and the other, almost twice as distant from the Tesla's route at its closest point of approach, has a M-class world, Grinden IV. There is a single black hole, FGC-92, but it will be safely distant from your current course. There are also three unremarkable nebulae and a rocky, airless rogue planet along the way.

    The Tesla will, at Warp 2, never be closer than 3.4 hours' travel time to the edge of the Neutral Zone. It does not appear, to Rangin at least, that coming any closer to the Neutral Zone, let alone crossing into it, would save enough time to be worth the risk - but, of course, Onn may see things differently. In any event, Starfleet records show no Romulan incursions in this region in the past six years.

    https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki...n_Neutral_Zone
    https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Class_L
    https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Rogue_planet

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    Graham nods and answers - mumbles, really, unintentionally - "yes ma'am" and checks to see the range of options for if and when Romulans sticking to their side of the Neutral Zone might detect the shuttle--and intercept it, if they so chose.

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    Considering the distances involved, and drawing on his knowledge of their sensor capabilities, Graham thinks it unlikely the Romulans could detect the shuttle from their side of the Neutral Zone, although it is possible. If a Romulan bird-of-prey were willing to violate the treaty, cross into Federation space and perhaps provoke a second interstellar war, it could certainly intercept and catch the Tesla, which might be able to hide but would not be nearly fast enough to outrun it.

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    Rangin looks at all the data being returned to him and feels a little more relaxed as to what he sees scrolling across the screen in front of him. Fairly open space with little opportunity for things to go wrong if it is as even a shuttle flight as the first half was.

    He gathers the salient points at the top as a quick precis on the details Lt Onn is looking for before referencing the rest of it below.

    “Ma’am, when you’re ready?” he calls back to the front of the shuttle.

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    Kylah hears the discussion and takes a quick look across the empty seat in front of her to see Velir--whom she could not see when Ms. Hutchinson had been sitting there earlier. She smiles slightly, and transfers her gaze to Mr. Rawlings, sleeping like a massive, contented bear, and then to Dr. Mäkeläinen. He seems to be resting too. Kylah herself is not so very tired, though she suspects a nap is in her future.

    She refocuses on her panel, where she has just finished sending a test message to the Yorktown. She again expects that the distance between them now is likely so vast that even with the shuttle's impressively boosted technology, she is hardly likely to get instant, real-time communications. If the receiver picks up anything at all. Still, it is important to track how long the Tesla takes to get back in range with the ship. For efficiency's sake, she will set up a repeating signal to ping the Yorktown and alert her whenever they receive a response.

    Afterward, since Lt. Onn appears to be interested in keeping abreast of things, Kylah will review the communications info--both what she downloaded earlier and anything new that might have cropped up--for anything either entertaining or enlightening to report. Scattered transmissions are not usually particularly thrilling; like most of space, objects of interest are rare, random and special.

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    After a slight hesitation, Nia nods. "Go on, by all means, Mr. Rangin. We don't want to miss out on something special before we've had a chance to enjoy it. Good life lesson, that."

    The humor, such as it is, is bleak and she keeps her eyes straight on the starscape ahead.

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