Star Trek RPG - Mission #6: "Marala"

Nathaniel enters the room and eagerly reaches for the first drink that is offered to him. He hates to admit it, but he is unnerved the girl and the memories has brought forth. And having a second girl looking just like her, like Leona, didn't help. He takes a gulp and scans the lively party scene. Most everybody looks to be having fun... and Nathaniel would love to have some himself. His return to Starfleet had been anything but that, not he has expected it to be a good time. Maybe there is a pretty face that could distract him. It's been a long time ... too long. And seeing Joe earlier today, so happy and in love in his marriage just reminds Nathaniel how long it had been. He needs to get laid, badly, it is as simple as that.

It is a glass of red wine that Nathaniel was offered by Mrs. Voronko, who says, "It must be very interesting to be a physician on a starship. Had you been in space before being assigned to the Yorktown, Dr. Bennett?"

One of her daughters admits another four people to the room. One of them, a Bolian, makes a beeline for the Governor and gives him a hug. Both are laughing happily.

Graham nods toward St. Croix and returns the governor's wave with one of his own and a (slightly forced--he's still pre-occupied with Marala) smile he nonetheless works to make look authentic.

Given the Ens. Kylah apparently set up this shindig and could use a boost, he casually makes his way in her direction.

Kylah tries not to wince at the older woman's grasp, attempting a smile at Lt. Graham. "Sir, I do not know how much longer we are scheduled to be down here, but in the meantime the Governor and Mrs. Voronko have been very generous with their food and drink, and especially their company." She glances around somewhat worriedly at the increasing crowd. The room feels warmer and closed-in with so many here.

Then she shakes it off. "I am sorry that Ms. Gromov was unable to return with you... I would have liked to meet a representative of the miners." And someone who is clearly close to you... She hopes they had a good visit. It did not seem long enough to... rekindle anything. But that is none of her business.

"Are you hungry, or thirsty, sir? If you would like something I can get it for you. Meanwhile, I would like to introduce Mrs. Antonov here, who is very keen to meet Starfleet personnel." She then introduces Lt. Graham, explaining to Mrs. Antonov Lt. Graham's full title and his position on the ship.

"Now, what may I get for either one of you?"

"Nothing for me, honey," Mrs. Antonov says, releasing her grip. "Well, maybe a glass of wine. Some white, maybe? A Chardonnay? Whatever they have - thank you." She turns her attention to Graham. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Assistant Chief of Security, eh? How wonderful! How long have you been doing that? You look a bit older than Ens. Kambla, if you don't mind my saying. Do you like serving on the Yorktown? What's your boss like? Any chance you'll move up to the top spot? Would you want to? How do you like Novy Rostov?" She pauses only briefly for Graham's answer between each rapid-fire question.

Rangin tries to keep at least a facade of pleasantness on his face while the Governor and his wife speak, but it is apparent that they have so very old ideas about what a zoo could and should be. There are so many creatures in the cosmos that would be ideal, but their concept seem as fixed as the stone they mine. Perhaps it is too much to hope from them and others may have interest. Sure, and a Horta can fly.

The doorbell distracts him and he turns round wondering who is missing or will be joining in, only to see Kylah walk across. Probably the missing away team members. Indeed its seems borne out by the conversation at the door.

He wonders how much longer this will be going on for, although as they are only supposed to be there a few hours, there are more unpleasant ways to spend it before departing on their interstellar way. The thought makes Rangin consider where he is, and that perhaps he should be a little happier with the situation. After all, a quiet drink on a planet and a chance to be somewhere different is not an everyday occurrence.

As the doorbell rings some more and others appear, with the conversation and music picking up, he continues to mingle, making light conversation, and be visible as a Federation officer. Answering questions when he is asked and asking about the mines to keep the conversations going.

Relieved to be out of Mrs. Antonov's clutches, Kylah exhales. "I will get your Chardonnay, ma'am. As for you, sir--"

She squints a little as she looks at Lt. Graham, trying to remember any time she has seen him drinking--not to mention trying to gauge his own instincts now. "I believe... whisky is your preference, is it not?" she asks. "Single malt. I will see if that is available."

After a brief smile and without waiting a response, she ducks away and slips through the crowd, glad for the chance to rub her sore arm where Mrs. Antonov grabbed it.

Kylah has scampered primarily because she wishes to flee a woman who talks a great deal of nothing. But, she must admit, part of her quick escape was a prank. Let the mission commander handle this annoying Starfleet worshipper.

In the meantime, perhaps he will be flattered by Kylah's 'memory.' She rarely pulls out party tricks like this, but if one has a talent, it is nice to be able to use it benignly and out in the open, even if it will be tossed aside as a lucky guess.

At last she is near the bar, having aimed for where she last saw Mr. Song. She is curious to meet him. Everyone she met seems to have a Russian background. Plus, the look he shared with Mr. Antonov intrigued her. Are both men as tired of Mrs. Antonov as Kylah was?

Kylah steps up and wonders if there is a bartender, or if they may serve themselves. If a bartender is present, she tries to get his or her attention. Waiting, she watches Mr. Song with interest, and waits the opportunity to greet him.

Rangin finds himself in conversation with Burt Johnson, a NRMC mine foreman. He is a heavyset man with sad eyes and slumped shoulders. He's lived on Novy Rostov for almost ten years and seems sick of it: "Dig, eat and sleep; dig, eat and sleep. Over and over again. Every day the same, and you can't walk around outside and breathe good fresh air out in the open. Christ, if I didn't owe so much in alimony I'd have quit years ago. I hate this place. It must be great being on a starship, doing whatever you want and going wherever you want to go!" He finishes one beer and reaches for another.

There is no bartender; Kylah can help herself. Mr. Song notices her looking at him and comes over. The middle-aged Korean man smiles and says, "Ens. Kylah, how are you? Some party, huh?" He has a glass of some fizzy-looking yellowish drink and a small plate of appetizers.

Graham nods approvingly, somewhat surprise that Ens. Kylah remembers his beverage preferences.

This Antonov on the other hand...

He does his best to nod politely and get a word in edgewise.

"Novy Rostov is an impressive operation."

"Just recently promoted, ma'am."

"The Chief of Security is stern, but fair."

"Why yes, Ens. K-- uh the Ensign is about my daughter's age, in fact."

Trying to find the required drinks, Kylah stops once she is addressed. "Thank you, Mr. Song. I am well... although I will be better if I could find a bottle of single malt whisky." She hesitates then, realizing she has made herself sound in dire need of a drink, she adds quickly, "For a friend, I mean. I promised him I would get him some."

At least she easily recognizes what wine looks like. But she holds off on her search to address the stranger properly. "I apologize for staring. I work among many people of varying races and planets. But here, most people seem Russian, whereas you..."

Kylah looks down. She has been utterly undiplomatic, and quite possibly offensive. Why should someone with Korean heritage not live in Russia? When she was in San Francisco at the Starfleet Academy, the locals were comprised of all different races.

"I am sorry," she says yet again, cheeks burning. "I must sound terribly ignorant. I shall just ask about your job. And are you from Novy Rostov, or did you move here?"

Mrs. Antonov keeps peppering Graham with questions. She grabs his arm and tries to steer him towards a couch.

Song says, "I think the whisky is... let's see... yes, right here," finding the bottle among all the others and handing it to Kylah. It is 30-year-old Glenfiddich Blue Reserve. He continues, "No need to apologize. NR really is a Russian-heavy colony; I think there are only a dozen or so Koreans here. As for me, I'm a bailiff for the Colonial Court. I was born on Earth but I've lived here for almost three years now." He takes a bite of stuffed mushroom. "How about you? How long have you been on the Yorktown? A red dress... that means Security, right?"

“No.” Nathaniel responds to the woman, who seemed intent on asking everyone all sorts of questions and he certainly didn’t want to answer any. He didn’t like to talk about life before Yorktown. He didn’t like talking about his life at all. And he has every intent on keeping it that way. “I was in... private practice, taking some time way from Starfleet.”

That seems to be the best way to answer he thinks, even though it is a lie. But he wonders if she even heard him, she is focused on Graham at the moment. Good.

Mrs. Antonov is speaking with (and laying hands on) Graham. It is the Governor's wife, Mrs. Voronko, who is talking to Nathaniel. She takes a drink and asks, "So you'd been in Starfleet, but then returned? May I ask what made you decide to leave in the first place? And how are things going now, the second time around?"

A surprised smile and widened eyes are Kylah's reaction to Mr. Song's question. Then she shakes her head and nearly laughs while accepting the bottle of whisky. "Forgive me, sir. It is just that I have never been mistaken for a security officer before."

She opens the whisky and pours some into a glass. "Starfleet ships' security officers do wear red, and your guess makes sense. They are the ones most often seen by civilians; usually they represent a plurality within landing or boarding parties.

"But engineers and operation officers--those of us involved in the ship's subsystems--also wear red. I am a Communications officer."

Kylah smiles apologetically. "And I also talk too much. Please forgive me. What exactly does a bailiff do? Are there many legal disputes here? Some might think such a small population would generate fewer disputes, but in my experience, there is actually an inverse relationship. Connections this close often increase the tension."

When she looks up she sees that poor Lt. Graham has been caught by Mrs. Antonov's claw-like grip as well. With a slight frown, Kylah hurries to find some wine and pours it in a tall glass. She cannot help murmuring, "I had better hurry... Lt. Graham might feel overwhelmed. I have not met Mr. Antonov yet. is he as...friendly as his wife?"

Song shrugs. "It's a small court, just two judges, but we keep busy. Bailiffs keep order in the courtrooms, help the judges, and make sure juries aren't bothered as they do their work." He glances over at Mrs. Antonov and Graham. "Yeah, she's something, isn't she? Her husband is pretty different - quiet, and actually kind of shy. I know them a little from church."

Nodding tactfully, Kylah then blinks in surprise. Is this man also Russian Orthodox? And is it rude to ask? She is trying, albeit not with great success, to learn more about this colony.

"I hope this does not seem too personal, but... are you Russian Orthodox as well?" Then the obvious alternative occurs to her. "Or is the church more...more..."

A momentary lapse of silence creates a gap as Kylah tries to remember the correct terminology. There is no equivalent in her own language, as only one religion is formally acknowledged. But Federation Standard has it, and after what feels like hours, the bit of information arises from storage in her brain and lets her to continue.

"--More ecumenical?" She sighs, a little relieved, and continues hurriedly, "I understand if you prefer not to answer. Normally I would not ask a stranger so soon, but I am trying to learn how your colony thrives, and faith is often a significant part of a community."

Graham acquiesces to the woman's tugging at him, without enthusiasm but lacking any alternative without seeming rude.

At least the constant stream of questions is helping take my mind off Marala.

Song says, "Oh, I don't mind. I'm a Grundy Presbyterian, actually, but there aren't any others here, so I go to the Russian Orthodox church. I have some friends there and they've always made me feel welcome."

Mrs. Antonov sits on the couch and leans close to Graham, who could really use that drink, and asks him even more questions.

Kylah nods again, although considering Russian Orthodox was only just barely recognizable to her, she is utterly clueless about just what a Grundy Presbyterian might be.

She notices Mrs. Antonov still grabbing onto Lt. Graham as if he were the only thing keeping her upright. Sympathy for her senior officer makes her cut this conversation short.

"I am glad you are welcomed there. From what little I have seen of it, Novy Rostov seems to run extraordinarily smoothly. Other mining colonies are often not so fortunate."

While speaking, Kylah searches for some ice cubes to drop into the tumbler. She does not recall if Lt. Graham takes his whisky 'on the rocks' but... well, he can always remove it. Kylah takes a napkin too, just in case.

"Excuse me, I should go--I did tell the others I would bring them their drinks. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Song. Thank you so much for sharing a bit about your life here."

Assuming Mr. Song returns her goodbye, Kylah will pick up the wine glass as well and maneuver her way through the crowd to rescue Lt. Graham.

Song lifts his glass in a polite toast to Kylah, and turns to look for other friends in the crowd. Several more people have now joined the party. It is getting rather loud.

As Kylah draws closer, Mrs. Antonov is saying to Graham, "So you both wear red, but Miss Kesta doesn't work for you...?"

Rangin cannot help but commiserate with Burt Johnson. After all, he had done what he needed to do to stay away from going down the mines unless absolutely necessary. “I know where you are coming from. I have a few family members in mining and it was something I never wanted to do, certainly not long term. They spent more time underground than they did with the sky overhead.”

“Being on a starship is not all fun and games. You may get to go a variety of places and see interesting things, but you get very used to the same passageways, over and over again. I’ve lost more than enough friends as well while I’ve been on them.” He can’t help but feel the mood slowly tumble to a more depressing state, no doubt aided by the vodka. He remembers why he didn’t use to drink it, or the more potent Coridian variant that much.

“So, anything actually fun here to do, other than drink? Cards, pool, something a little less melancholy?”

“It’s been.... eventful so far.” Nathaniel says, though that hardly described the last few days since his arrival. Batshit crazy is more like it. Though to be fair given the stories he’s heard, especially from his father and brother, about life on a starship, what he has experienced is mild. And when he thinks about what happened to them, he knows he’s right. At least he is still alive.

“Oh... you know how it is.” Nathaniel says. “Sometimes you just need a break.”

Johnson takes another swig of his beer. "Oh, sure, if I ever had time to," he says to Rangin. "There's a couple of card games going at any given time, and I shoot pool now and then." He snorts, and drinks again. "You can swim in the colony pool, too, if it's not closed because of algae or a pump malfunction or whatever the hell else. And there's always drinking."

Mrs. Voronko seems to sense that she's touched a nerve with Dr. Bennett, and nods. "Well, tell me, what's the best thing about being a Starfleet doctor?" She smiles. "The cocktail parties at mining colonies?"

After hearing her name butchered yet again, Kylah casts an apologetic look at Lt. Graham. "I am sorry for taking so long," she says, particularly to her senior officer but then includes Mrs. Antonov with a glance. "I met Mr. Song and had a pleasant conversation, but I did not mean to make you wait. Here is your wine, ma'am. And sir, this is for you."

She leans toward Lt. Graham and passes him the glass. "If I recall correctly, the whisky is Glenfiddich Blue Reserve--30-years-old, I think Mr. Song said. I hope that is acceptable." While standing, she clasps her hands and, taking another quick glance at Mrs. Antonov, adds, "I... I also hope there is time for you to savor it. How much longer must--may we stay here?"

Mrs. Antonov takes her glass, smiles and says, "Thanks, dear. Very kind of you." She turns back to Graham. "So does this young lady work for you, or not?" She takes a sip of wine, winks conspiratorially at Kylah, and asks Graham, "And how's she been doing lately?"

“I don’t know... I guess the variety of challenges.” Nathaniel says.

Nathaniel desperately wants from this woman and her perstering. But at least she is a distraction from the presence of the children. What were they doing here at an adult party anyway? Shouldn’t they be in bed? His father would have never allowed this. Kids were best seen and not heard. At least when it came to him. His brother was a different story. And these were rabbit holes he didn’t want to go down, damn it.

He continues. “It’s never dull and I always get to use the skills I spent way too many years learning.”

Mrs. Voronko says, "My brother is a doctor, too. Did you always want to be one? Were there other physicians in your family?"

Graham accepts the drink with authentically - surprised - pleasure. He indulges in a sip before responding to Kylah - and Antonov. The whisky helps fortify him.

"Ah, I'm the officer in charge of this mission, ma'am, but omboard Communications rolls up a different chain of command." He clears his throat. "And the Ensign's been doing just fine - in fact, she organized this get-together with the Governor. But, ah, sadly--our time planet side is running short. We ought to make our good-byes to him, if you'll excuse us." He offers to clink her glass in a toast. "To Novy Rostov."

Kylah is tempted to correct Lt. Graham's impression that she herself arranged the gathering, when in truth she deserves neither the credit nor the blame. Except, perhaps, the latter... for having introducing him to Mrs. Antonov before escaping.

With no drink to lift for the toast, she echoes "To Novy Rostov" dutifully before reaching a hand out--just a fraction, not wanting to encourage Mrs. Antonov too much considering how grabby the older woman is. "It was a pleasure to meet you, madam."

"Oh, do you really have to go?" Mrs. Antonov says with a little pout. "What a shame! And I was just getting to know you both...."

As it happens, just then, each of the landing party members' communicators beep and a text appears: Priority One. Prepare to return to the ship immediately. Respond when ready to be beamed up. Do not alarm NR civilians. SINGH.

Graham checks his communicator and shrugs apologetically. "Well, there we have it - duty calls. Ens. Kasey, you're with me as we make our goodbyes," he adds with a barely repressed grin as he gives Antonov a parting nod and turns to find the Governor.

Startled by the simultaneous actions of the crew checking their communicators, Kylah looks up, keeping her expression neutral as best she can. Lt. Graham's muddling of her name is a surprise as well, but his face shows humor and calm.

Kylah attempts a smile at Mrs. Antonov and, as she follows her superior officer, quickly searches the room to find the rest of their crewmates. Her gaze cannot help but stop on Velir, even as she has to push her way through the busy room. She shifts so that she can walk directly behind Lt. Graham, who seems able to part the crowd by his mere presence.

"I suppose you do not know what this might be, sir?" she asks Lt. Graham--or at least his back.

"Goodbye, then," Mrs. Antonov says, pouting even more. "But hurry back!"

Gov. Voronko is not far away. "You were all looking at your communicators," he says lightheartedly to Graham and Kylah. "That can't be a good sign."

Talking to someone who is only going to complain about the mining and everything going wrong is the last thing Rangin needs given the last few events he has just lived through. But, he is polite and nods along solemnly to the ills of the world being rolled out in front of him like some checklist of ills waiting to be marked off and as soon as possible.

Rangin can almost feel the weight of relief drift off his shoulders as the comms message comes through, even if the message itself is worrying. He excuses himself to read it and then sees that Graham is beginning to wind up the Federation's presence here.

"If you will excuse me, it seems that duty calls and our brief stay is at an end." He holds out a hand to be civil and utter one of those little white lies, "It's been a pleasure to meet you." At least Rangin will follow the formalities before heading across to join the rest of the group. He gives Kylah a brief nod as she looks across, acknowledging the need to move and wondering what she thinks of the message they have just received.

Graham glances over his shoulder just a bit and shakes his head very slightly, shrugging his shoulders ever the slightest bit as well in response to Kylah's question.

He smiles in response to the Governor, and extends a hand. "Well, at least not for our stay here, I'm afraid." He smiles slightly. "Life on a starship is always full of surprises. For all I know at my pay grade, maybe Yorktown has just been summoned to fly pole position in a multi-species procession celebrating a universal declaration of galactic peace." He shrugs and smiles more broadly. "Or maybe a freighter full of some admiral's favorite whisky blew an engine a sector over. Our duty calls either way, sir. Thank you and all your people for their hospitality."

Johnson says, "Oh, sure. Nice talking with you." He shakes Rangin's hand mechanically and then heads back to the bar.

The Governor smiles and shakes Graham's hand. "Of course. It was our pleasure, Lieutenant. I hope your ship doesn't have to leave right away - you know you're more than welcome to come back down, and I still hope your Captain will be offering shore leave to the crew."

Graham sees the other members of his landing party are making their way through the crowd towards the entry hall of the apartment.

Kylah catches Velir's nod with a familiar flush of warmth. He can still affect her, even across a crowded room.

When she hears the Governor speaking, she returns to him immediately. "Yes, we thank you and Mrs. Voronko for your hospitality, sir. And your daughters as well."

Kylah adds, "I am sure we all would have liked to stay longer, Governor. But as far as I know, our visit here was always meant to be fairly brief. It is kind of you to invite us back. As my mother used to tell me: Far better to leave too early than to outstay your welcome."

She will trail behind Lt. Graham on the way to the entrance.

Gov. Voronko nods and smiles. "Well said, Ens. Kylah, and thank you. We hope to see you back again soon."

Thank God the party is over, Nathaniel thinks as he and the rest of the crew quickly left. But he wonders what has happened to made them be called to the ship so quickly. Life on a starship is one never ending stream of disaster and mayhem. Nathaniel wonders what it would be this time.

Kylah smiles, or her version of a smile, and joins Lt. Graham on his way out. She spots when Velir notices her look, returning it with a nod. Teeth catching her lower lip, she blinks to acknowledge him, then stares ahead.

When she and Lt. Graham are far enough away from their hosts, she says quietly: "It is a shame there is so little traffic in this area. Both Mrs. Antanov and the Vorenkos hope to see us again, although they must know it is unlikely we will pass this way again soon. I suppose, getting so few visitors, they must be hungry for new faces."

She hesitates and adds, "I hope Cmdr. Roble was able to complete his task. Whatever it was."

Graham tears his gaze away from what somehow in his head has been established as the direction of Marala's apartment - not that he's sure what to do with more time here, or how to say "goodbye" again in a different way...but still...

"Uh," he re-focused on Kylah. "Ah, I'm sure he would have requested assistance if he needed anything." He takes a deep breath, and stock of the approaching team. "Looks like about time to saddle up."

Graham and the others in the Yorktown landing party leave the Voronkos' apartment. You find a small indoor park not far away in which everyone can stand together for beamup.

Kylah waits with her nerves on edge, wondering what problem will greet them after they are beamed up. Standing between Velir and Lt. Graham does not help.

Rangin looks around the little group just checking everyone is there. Everyone else had come from that party except for Roble, although given the message, he is not expecting the CSO to be late, although he wonders if anyone had told him where the landing party is.

His eyes keep flicking back and forth between Kylah and the rest of the group, although unsurprised she is standing between Graham and himself. It feels uncomfortable standing there and shuffling around and waiting.

“Any ideas why the rush back?” he asks Kylah quietly, hoping she might have some more information.

If the team arrives and no one raises any issues, Graham will hail the ship to request beam-up.

Chief Nguyen acknowledges Graham's signal and beams the landing party up immediately. In the Yorktown's transporter room, he collects phasers and tricorders from those who don't wish to keep carrying them.

Ens. St. Croix asks, "Where's the Science Officer?"

Nguyen says, "He beamed up about half an hour ago. The Captain wants you all in Conference Room 1 on the double."

Graham's authentically curious, and somewhat bemusedly just the teeniest bit alarmed - could we have fucked something up down there?

It doesn't seem likely - nothing about the team, Rangin included, gave him any bad vibes.

Just a weird coincidence.

Like...seeing Marala.


Well, nothing to be done but to get to it.

Though relieved that Lt. Cmdr. Roble is safely aboard, Kylah frowns in concern at the terse order. Could she have done something, said something wrong? She waits for Lt. Graham to lead the way, then follows him, staring worriedly at his broad back. He was apart from us. Did anything happen during that time?

An urge to talk quickly amongst themselves flickers in her chest, then she shakes it off. It might have nothing to do with their visit, she thinks optimistically--an idea that lasts about two seconds before she realizes that is hardly likely.

Then Velir's quiet voices reaches her. She turns back to him, searching his fathomless eyes. She used to love to see herself in them. "I do not know," she says, just as softly. "I cannot imagine. Perhaps we have made some mistake in protocol..."

The landing party makes its way, by corridor and turbolift, to the Captain's conference room on Deck 2.

Capt. S.P. Singh, Science Officer Abdi Roble, Chief Engineer Edgardo Cheverez and Chief Medical Officer Dr. Miriam Villa are already sitting there, apparently in mid-conversation, looking grim. The First Officer is not there. The Captain raises her hand and silence falls as you enter. On the bulkhead display screen is a heavily-annotated stellar cartography graphic of Eta Ophiuchi, Novy Rostov's binary star system.

Singh nods in greeting and says, "Welcome back, and please be seated." You do, and she continues, "We have bad news, some very bad news, unfortunately. Mr. Roble?"

The courtly Somali man turns in his chair towards you, folds his hands and says, "As you know, I met with Dr. Sabeel while you were touring the colony. He's been studying the system's two stars for several years, originally at the Cochrane Institute and more recently here. Both are main-sequence stars of spectral type A1 IVc3. Both Eta Ophiuchi A and B are natural sources of rho radiation, which Dr. Sabeel himself discovered about a decade ago. Rho radiation is very rare, emitted by less than forty stars in the entire galaxy, and by no other known pair of binary stars. In the past few months Dr. Sabeel has been puzzled by readings he's had from Icarus, the stellar-observation satellite placed here by the Institute. He asked that the Yorktown come to Novy Rostov, in part, so that he could make use of our ship's computer, much larger and more powerful than his own, for real-time analysis of the satellite's sensor readings."

Roble takes a deep breath, and Kylah notices that his clenched knuckles are almost white with strain. "He has now done so, and I'm sorry to have to tell you, has determined that Eta Ophiuchi A is building to a powerful rho radiation burst in the next seven to nine hours. He believes it will be intense enough to destroy all organic matter in this system."

And there it is, Nathaniel tries not to gasp. He'd just joined this damn ship and is facing a deadly situation already. He didn't know alot about Rho radiation, but enough to know alot of people would die if they didn't act quickly. He wondered what their options are. Could they evacuate everyone in time? And get far enough away to not be affected by the radiation? Or is there a medical solution, something everyone could be given to lessen effects of the radiation? Nathaniel doubts it, but it would have to be looked into. He does know there is a lot to do in the next several hours if they — and the people they need to rescue were to make it out alive.