Star Trek RPG - Mission #6: "Marala"

Rangin notices Kylah's look and instinctively glances in the same direction while she is speaking to him. It appears that the Gorilla of the ship has arrived, although neatly diverted by Lt. Onn to the Security station.

He faces Kylah again and replies to her question, trying to focus on the mission in the here and now instead of what passed between not so long ago. "Actually, I was hoping I might be able to help you get in contact with the Sarafina, I understand they are not being very cooperative in answering our requests", he says quietly. "The sooner we can do so, the sooner we can see how many people they can really carry."

Kylah's fingers curl around her communicator in frustration, pressing the tips into the cool metal as if trying to crush it. She does her best to hide her anxiety, an attempt that she know is--as usual--not entirely successful.

"Yes, I have been trying. They have been nonresponsive. Lt. Thalen and Mr. Dahlquist analyzed the ship's system and found no technical reason that they did not hear our repeated hail. I cannot think what we can do to force them, short of...intimidation. Our ship threatening theirs."

She shifts her eyes toward Lt. Onn, then back to Velir. For some reason actually looking at him, this close, makes her skin tingle with alertness while her mind is, paradoxically, foggy. Her instinct is to pull back from him, but--also paradoxically--finds herself reluctant to do so.

At last she remembers: I must get to Uncle's message, and forces her attention away from Velir's curiously magnetic gaze as she murmurs: "Perhaps it will help you discover an alternative if you learn more about the Sarafina's specifications... back at your station?"

Rangin recognises the dismissal, or more likely a nervous desire from Kylah for him to leave for some reason, and if he is honest being this close is not helping his concentration either.

"Have we tried contacting the Sarafina about the crew member they left behind? Just to see if they will at least respond to that situation? They should, at least, come back to us on that."

Rangin steps back a little further to give Kylah some more room wondering if this rescue is affecting her more than he expected. But he cannot figure out why especially as both hands are clutched tight in her lap and not on the console.

"I'll leave it to you", he says quietly once again and backs away, aware he could say more.

"You alright?", he mouths silently, aware that their interaction is probably being half-watched anyway.

In response to Velir's question about informing the Sarafina about their abandoned crew member, Kylah is uncertain. They have told the ship about the doomed planet, and surely the Sarafina is aware that one of their own is thus in terrible danger.

But perhaps Lt. Thalen's message was not specific enough? She murmurs something about trying, in hopes that this will get Velir to leave her some room to listen to her uncle's message.

Then an emptiness, a chill, washes over her, and she looks up to find that Velir has backed away. And when she meets his eyes, he mouths a question--and there is no mistaking the genuine concern in his expression, in his heart.

The intimacy almost floors her. She starts to nod, an automatic response to keep her emotional distance. But after everything she has been through, after Aldaan has threatened her life and future with his selfishness, Kylah cannot lie. Not to Velir's eyes. The nod becomes a single, slow, almost indiscernible shake of her head.

Then she swivels her chair away, forcing herself to break her emotional connection to him. Knowing that he might be watching still, she rushes out a message to the Sarafina. As an addendum to the already existing message Thalen had constructed, she appends:

We remind you that you have a crew member still on this planet. Your assistance may help ensure his survival under these dire circumstances. Respond immediately; time is brief.

She sends it along and maintains it among the constant stream of automated hails.

Realizing that she can use this altered message as an excuse to adjust her equipment, Kylah swiftly brushes away her loose, somewhat unkempt hair to remove her earpiece. Her fingers tremble as she opens the device in her lap, tapping the instructions that will tether the earpiece to the communicator. A small blue light blinks to confirm that the two have successfully connected.

Returning the receiver to curve around her ear, Kylah almost fumbles while she enters the command on her communicator to play the decompressed file.

Meanwhile she is preparing to concentrate harder than usual. Normally she would use the private program loaded on the terminal in her quarters, which can analyze any audio input and turn it into standard musical notation. But obviously, that option is not available now. Nor does she have any instrument to help her--not even a datapad, even if she dared use one on the Bridge for this purpose.

Instead she closes her eyes to listen to the song.

The tune is, as her uncle warned, as staggeringly ugly as it is simplistic. He did not have time to weave their unique musical code into anything resembling a proper piece. She frowns and, in lieu of playing an actual instrument, automatically uses her fingers to press into her thighs, hidden beneath the dark area under her panel. Silently, she uses muscle memory to determine what the notes are, and how they should be decoded.

Fortunately, it is brief. When she is certain she can replicate the tune, she hurriedly de-couples the earpiece and returns it to its usual settings. She will be ready in the increasingly unlikely possibility that the Sarafina does respond.

Then, fingers again pressing imaginary keys on her skirt-covered thighs, Kylah scowls in concentration and begins to decode and understand what Aldaan found so imperative and urgent. With each line she lifts her hands and types it into her communicator's tiny screen, just to have a way to view what she transcribes.

One of the words--repeated twice--seems like a mistake, since it does not translate to Elasian or any language Kylah knows. She must decode it letter by letter. It is only when she finally sees the whole message that she realizes it is a name.

When through, she inhales, shakes her head and stares down at the message in disbelief. No matter how many times she reads it, the stark words remain the same.

I have just learned of the grave danger now facing the Novy Rostov colony.

A longtime friend and business associate of our House, Ruth Soeryadjaya, is part of that colony.

It is absolutely imperative that Miss Soeryadjaya be safely evacuated. You will make every effort to see that she is.

It is not in your interest to know how I learned of this. Take no action to discover how I did.

If you disobey, I will find out. And I will be very displeased.

Kylah's breath stops for quite some time while her widened eyes take all this in. Because his request--no, demand--is not just imperative and urgent.

With the restrictions he has placed on her, Kylah cannot see this task as anything but impossible.

Lt. JG Faith Ngaka says in her melodious, English-accented voice, "Certainly, ma'am. I understand." Lt. Joseph Bancroft, the astrophysicist, soon arrives, nods to both Onn and her, and takes the Science I station. Ngaka leaves the Bridge.

From Sickbay, Dr. Villa replies, "Of course, Lieutenant. I'll send him up now." She pages Dr. Bennett and says, "Report to Lt. Onn on the Bridge, Doctor, if you please."

From the surface, Capt. Singh replies, "Thank you, Mr. Onn. We're doing as well as might be expected, under the circumstances, and need nothing else. Proceed after the Sarafina, and good luck. Singh out."

The Sarafina makes no reply to any of the Yorktown's subspace messages.

There is little Rangin can do but walk back to his station, but Kylah's actions worry him greatly. The shake of the head, the quick turn of the chair not to look at him and feeling of a cold sweat. She looked aghast about something, but even though the situation is as dire as it can be, Rangin is not even sure it is to do with that, and more the communicator so gripped tightly in both her hands, they had turned the knuckles white. But what can he do, other than hope she passes the message on to the Sarafina and that they respond?

Back at his desk, he considers his options: for the Colony, the Sarafina and Kylah. The more he can keep busy, the less he has to think about what is happening.

Okay, Kylah is probably both the hardest and easiest to deal with. There is little he can do unless she asks, other than offer to help. He thumbs a quick message to her, "Whatever is wrong, if I can help, let me know." Chances are she will say and do nothing, or blow it off or she will tell Graham and let him deal with it. But given that look in her eyes, he has to do the decent thing and ask anyway.

For the Sarafina, he opens the specs up and starts looking over the basic engineering specs for the Life Support to try and get a more accurate number of just how much air and water they can support for the hopefully short journey when they might meet with other ships to help spread the effort.

And finally, he considers the colony. He can't let it go, so many options and, given the crew's current opinion, they will just pick some people at random and hope for the best. He could see them standing planetside with a bag of pebbles.., black, black, white, black and separating them out to be those saved and those condemned.

If someone is going to create something to do it, he will do it. No abdication of responsibility, just the horrible knowledge that it has to be done properly, he is the best person to do it. It's not an engineering problem, it's a biology problem to keep as many people alive as possible. He looks to pull up the details of the Colony, physical attributes, ages, fitness, size all the things that could and would affect life support.

Then four options, a baseline random based pick on the average amount of air a person assuming everyone is a standard human adult.

A random pick based on an estimated consumption per person. Rangin has had access to more than enough medical studies to provide guidance on more species than he needed.

His pick, or at least a simpler version of it, group all the children as a block and fill up the capacity before randomly picking anyone else.

Lt Onn's pick. Group all the families as a block, then randomly pick them until the capacity was filled.

Simple enough options, but life and death for those below on the planet. He just hopes he can squeeze more out of some of the options then the baseline. Well, he knows he will, but by how much...

He sends a request to Cmdr. Cheverez for just how much he think he can squeeze out of Life Support, not in terms of people, but the atmosphere output, the vital factor in his cold equations.

Staring ahead, Kylah feels her communicator buzz a millisecond before its audible alert goes off. With a start, she flips it open, logic departing her entirely--replaced by the fear that somehow Aldaan is contacting her.

Instead...

"Whatever is wrong, if I can help, let me know."

Kylah's lips part in surprise, but otherwise she is motionless. Oh Velir, if only you could help. If only anyone could...

She searches her mind for any idea, any possibility, that might allow her to have some say in this stranger's fate. She has no influence, not without mentioning the connection, and she cannot mention the connection without explaining how she even knows who this person is.

Suddenly Kylah turns to Lt. Graham. If he has not done so already, he must surely be planning to ensure that Mrs. Gromov is saved. If he is successful... will that harm her chances for such a request? A tremor runs through her at the most likely answer: only one of them will succeed. This has become a gruesome contest. Who has more influence and power?

The thought of competing against Lt. Graham in this fashion makes her ill.

She turns away, her head bent low as she swallows back bile. I cannot think about this now.

Kylah cannot even fathom how Aldaan knows any of this. Of course, he knew she would wonder, that is why he added that warning against any investigation.

He cannot control her thoughts, and Kylah is trying to imagine a route through which the looming disaster could have filtered its way to her Guardian. Someone on the ship? No; impossible.

The Captain contacted Starfleet, so perhaps it is someone there? But how would this person know of Aldaan's connection with this colonist? Through that scientist who'd consulted with Cmdr. Roble? Or the Governor... if this woman already knows, she is likely a person of some power--likely one of the people on the council.

Did I meet her? Was she at the party? Why did she not introduce herself... unless she did not wish anyone to know... And why does our House have a contact on this remote, unimportant colony anyway?

Her head swims. She forces herself to break free of the endless spiral of intrigue and forbidden knowledge.

Kylah lowers her communicator, somehow gathers her thoughts, and turns to Velir. Watching him at his terminal calms her. She does not know why, but it does. After checking to see whether Lt. Onn is occupied--understandably, she is--Kylah moves her chair a little closer to Velir's.

"Thank you," she says softly, when he happens to look her way. "Please, may I ask... after I left the briefing..." Kylah hesitates before managing to form the question: "Was it decided how many we can save? And--and how they will choose whom?"

Federation records reveal that the Sarafina is a small Enzokuhle-class merchant ship, a common-enough workhorse out along the frontier. She is 22 years old, less than a tenth the Yorktown's size, and with a crew of nine - now eight, Rangin knows. Her master and owner is Nicholson Bell, to whom Capt. Singh spoke upon the Yorktown's arrival at Novy Rostov. The Sarafina has passed all Federation safety inspections, most recently two years ago, although not always with flying colors. Her last filed flight plan showed that she is carrying Telperion hardwoods to Morra III for furniture manufacturing. The specs on her life support systems support the Captain's earlier estimate that the Sarafina could carry 200 people in her cargo holds, if need be, with an acceptable risk of critical LS failure.

One of the Chief Engineer's staff shortly provides the data which Rangin requested. It is consistent with Cheverez's remarks in the meeting.

Graham acknowledges Nia's orders, perhaps holding his mouth open--and her eyes with his--as if he wanted to speak just a second before nodding and turning back to his station.

He gestures for Mahmoud to come closer while he punches up the Security assignments to see who is accompanying the Captain.

Once his colleague is close enough, he asks in a low voice "Your thoughts on a team? We need hard and fast seizure of control, if it comes to that, but--someone sloppy or panicky with a phaser putting that ship out of commission means 200 dead colonists."

Ensconced in the details, Rangin doesn't notice Kylah until she asks her question.

"Erm...it is not good", he replies trying not lose track of where he is. A few moments later and he is happy he can pick it up again and he turns to Kylah. "Ok, how many we can save depends on a few things, not least Cmdr. Cheverez and his team maxing out Life Support as much as possible. According to him, he reckons he can manage another twelve hundred people. The medical team think they can put another hundred or so into medical coma with reduced drain on life support and the reason we are chasing down the Sarafina is because they should be able to take another two hundred people. All told, fifteen hundred of the colony if we are lucky out of the eight thousand there."

Still not enough he thinks, there should be ways to get more but at the moment he is still stumped.

"As for how they will choose, there are several options but in the end the Captain will probably decide. If I had to guess, she will just have the computer randomly pick and try to get the colony go along with it. It's not something I agree with, so I'm looking at some of the other options just to see if I can get more people on board in a way that is less impactful and emotionally stressful for the colony. Not that it isn't as bad as it gets at the moment, but avoiding a full scale riot should really be a consideration."

Rangin tries to keep a level head about the task in front of him, knowing that anything less would not be right for the people below.

"Random lotteries really do not factor in the capacity of sentients to be sentients. There are far better models for understanding behaviour. I'm trying to do something better and I hope to show the Captain as well. I don't think anyone else wants to even consider it apart from Lt. Onn. Between us we're trying to think of a few miracles to bolster those numbers.”

Graham sees that the Captain's landing party includes the First Officer; the Ship's Psychiatrist, Dr. Helen Noel; and three Security officers: Lt. JG Tadeusz Kawecki and Ensigns Euterpe Terezis and Terrance Thayer "Two Tons" Rawlings.

Mahmoud looks over Graham's shoulder at the list, thinks for a moment, then says, "You and me, obviously, then... Three Crows, Jones, de la Paz and St. Croix."

Nathaniel is deep in his thoughts until the hears the message calling him to the bridge. He is grateful to have something to do other than sit and wait... but he also wonders what the hell has gone wrong. You usually don't call the doctor unless there is a problem and things are bad enough already.

He isn't sure if he'll need his medikit, but he grabs it anyway and leaves the office and quickly makes his way to the bridge.

Dr. Bennett is whisked via turbolift to the Bridge. He sees Lt. Onn in the big chair and others at their various duty stations. Lt. JG Booker Graham and an Arab-looking redshirt he doesn't know are conferring at the Security station.

With nods, Nia welcomes Bancroft and, eventually, Dr. Bennett, to the Bridge. She gets up and moves closer to the doctor's station.

"Dr. Bennett, just in case you're wondering, I've called you up here because we're heading toward another ship, the Sarafina, that can hold about two hundred people. It might be able to hold a few dozen more if we keep their life support requirements down--just like we're doing here, using the medicated coma trick." She leans on the desk so they're more eye-to-eye, rather than her staring down at him.

"If there's some way you can replicate more, or perhaps see what they've got on their ship--it's basically an oversized yacht, relatively speaking, but they must have some medical supplies on there--that could add to the evacuee number."

She lifts her head and aims a quizzical look over toward Rangin. "Rangin, you've analyzed the ship by now. See anything on board that might come in handy? And by the way, if you think of other ways to lessen the strain on LS as low as possible, let the doctor here know. And vice versa," she says meaningfully to Bennett. She adds in a more private murmur to the doctor, "I know it's not your style, but try to collab. Rangin is a hell of an asset."

With a pat on the top of Bennett's seatback, she heads back to the captain's chair. She catches Booker's look, curious as to what he was trying to impart to her. If it's important, he'll tell me. She sits straight in her chair.

"All right: Leventhal, Bennett--uh, Mr. Bennett, that is--please take us out of orbit and get us to the Sarafina."

Nia makes a mental note to herself not to put both Bennetts on the Bridge again unless absolutely necessary. She adds: "Get close to her but not right on her backside. I don't want her captain reacting instinctively and thinking his only options are fight or flight. That ship's a precious resource and we want it intact--but time's also precious, so the easier this is, the better."

She takes a deep breath. "Speaking of time... Lt. Bancroft, what's your current estimate on how long the star's got before it blows?"

Kylah listens to every word Velir says while he tells her the dismal numbers. We cannot save even a quarter of them, she thinks, horrified.

A randomly chosen culling method does not help her. Surely the higher-level members of the community will get some priority? Of course, Kylah does not know if Ms. Soeryadjaya is a higher-level member. It is hard to fathom that she is not...

She is about to ask more when Lt. Onn addresses Velir from near Dr. Bennett, whose arrival Kylah did not notice.

Drawing back, Kylah returns to stare at her screen. After gnawing on her thumbnail in consternation, she makes a decision. Aldaan did not forbid me from learning more about her.

Kylah carefully waits for Lt. Onn to return to the Captain's chair before letting her fingers quickly fly over the keypad, performing a pair of net searches: "Ruth Soeryadjaya" and "Novy Rostov Council Members."

Graham reflexively clasps a hand on Mahmoud's shoulder.

You and me. obviously...

Amidst everything going on, Faisal's straightforward honesty and clarity is like a lighthouse on a stormy night.

They had been through a lot together - the phrase "to hell and back" comes to Graham's mind. But it's about "to hell and not back" that triggers a feeling of - the right word is love - for his current and former colleague. It's not just volunteering himself, and it's not that boarding the ship was remotely the most dangerous assignment. It's the absence of hesitation, and the implicit promise he knows lies behind Faisal's recommendation: we'll do whatever it takes to get the job done...including not coming back.

When there's an opening, Graham look to Nia. "Captain took three Security officers, including Rawlings...that'll at least give anybody sensible a moment's pause." He clears his throat. "Permission to lead boarding party if needed. Mahmoud as second. I'd recommend bring Lt. Jones to the Bridge to cover...ma'am."

The "ma'am" feels like it drags out for a long time... there's so much he wants to load it up with, not the least that he's proud of her for sitting in the big chair.

"Aye, ma'am," Leventhal and Bennett say almost at once. Bennett nods to Leventhal, and the young German man clicks the switches that will take the Yorktown out of orbit. "Maximum warp, ma'am?" he asks as the heavy cruiser's deck begins to move under your feet.

Bancroft says soberly, "Given the most recent readings, we have roughly five to seven hours remaining, Mr. Onn."

Kylah learns that Ruth Soeryadjaya is a regional vice president of the Xiang Harlan interstellar business consortium, which has one of the mining franchises on NR. She is of Indonesian descent, 32, single, with an undergraduate degree with highest honors from Cambridge and an MBA from the Rigel Business School. She is independently wealthy and, by all accounts, a shrewd and very driven businesswoman. She is on an inspection tour of XH's far-flung operations and was due to leave on the next ore freighter. She has no obvious ties to Elas.

Kylah also learns that the NR Colonial Council members are the president, Ari Weinstein, whom Kylah already met; Yevgeniy Kosykh, a baker; Julianna Bentley, a miner; Aleksei Myagkov, a computer specialist; and Lidiya Kamagarov, a homemaker.

Mahmoud meets Graham's gaze and, as he smiles, it's obvious he's thinking much the same as his friend and shipmate.

After Graham has spoken, Bancroft says lightly, "Better not let the First Officer hear you omit him from your count of Security officers who're with the Captain, Mr. Graham."

“Yes, ma’am.” Nathaniel says in repsonse to Nia’s request. “I’ll get back to Sickbay, if there’s nothing else.”

Nathaniel couldn’t imagine what the Sarafina could have to offer, but it was his duty to find out. Lives depended on it. He needs to get to touch with what they had for a medical staff and find out.

Rangin has recovered nicely since Nathaniel had saved his life and Nathaniel wonders if the guy would finally be grateful.

“So,” Nathaniel says to Rangin. “Another day in paradise, another day warding off annihilation and devastation. You got anything to help me accomplish that?”

Rangin hears the call from Lt. Onn. and knows he will need to respond. "Excuse me please", he says to Kylah as she is already returning to her console. He wonders if she has more questions given she seemed shocked enough by the news. He stands up and makes his way across to the small group around Lt. Onn and waits for his turn to speak. He isn't sure of Dr Bennett is being sarcastic, ironic, or just plain insensitive, but he decides to ignore it and just speak plainly.

"Ma'am, Dr Bennett," Rangin begins as he turns to face the Doctor, "I have one cargo ship which appears unlikely to provide anything above and beyond what we already expect of it. Looking at the schematics and cargo manifest, they have nothing to help other than more space and life support for a couple of hundred people. Unless they are smuggling oxygen canisters, there is little different that will change that. Rudimentary medical facilities that will probably need a little work to get them up to speed."

Turning back to Lt. Onn he continues without waiting for a response.

"As for the Yorktown, ma'am, I've been pondering your comment on the Arboretum. Trees are not the greatest converters of Carbon Dioxide to Oxygen, but I can think other plants that are much better. Just a question of if the swimming pool would produce more oxygen as an algae pond or a giant electrolysis battery. Either way could save a few more people and if we need more water we can always replicate it."

Rangin blinks as the concept of what he just said hits him and especially what the extension of that could be. "Possibly a dumb option, but couldn't we just replicate the oxygen instead?"

Nia’s scales surprise her by prickling into a more alert status--primarily those along her clavicle and down her spine. Since there’s no immediate danger, she suspects this biological activity is a result of the adrenaline surge that comes from multiple people requiring her attention at once.

One at a time. She holds her hands out, mutely telling Rangin and Booker to hold for a second, then addresses Leventhal. “Just under max--get us to visual range within three minutes. I need to make an announcement so everyone knows where they’ll need to be.”

Her gaze flicks to Booker. It’s not easy pretending she’s fine being the one perpetually sending him into harm’s way. But he has his job and she has hers. “Permission granted and boarding team approved, Lieutenant… if necessary. I’m hoping it won’t be necessary unless they want assistance with preparations. But their current ‘run silent run deep’ routine doesn’t fill me with confidence.” Selfish idiots. “Thanks for the update on the Captain’s party... Cmdr. Vargas's inestimable presence noted, thanks, Bancroft. Also for the star update,” she adds in a much less upbeat tone.

At last she drops her arms and faces the Science station area. “As for the two of you--Rangin, I’m guessing your mind’s overtaxed, ‘cause I know you know we use air replication all the time in shuttles--it’s also how we break down the CO₂ that gets exhaled. At least, by you M-class-planet types.” Nia’s grin is apologetic.

“But seriously, it’s a good idea and we might be able to use it for a little boost for the Sarafina, but there are diminishing returns on that ploy, given the vast number of replications we’d require in this instance, for so many days. The more generations, the higher likelihood of introducing errors in the replicated material, and we could end up with oxygen toxicity or who knows what else. But you know this chemistry stuff better than me. Actually… Dahlquist, could you help with this idea? The plan is to significantly boost the LS supplies of a ship the Sarafina’s size.”

Nia nods at Dr. Bennett. “Dr. Villa might’ve not made it clear--this’ll be your temporary station for now. You can access all the Sickbay databases, terminals and inventory from up here. I really need your insight and status updates regarding the medical side of things. If anything changes i need to know ASAP, face-to-face. Thanks.”

If she didn’t already know Bennett's a bit of a hothouse orchid--ha, like his cousin, how appropriate--Nia wouldn’t be bothering with the politeness. But he’s new and full of himself, probably rightfully so given what appear to be his qualifications, so… she can bolster his ego a bit.

Hoping she hasn’t missed anything, Nia takes a long breath, then prepares for a shipwide announcement, her finger pausing near the switch. “Okay,” she says to the Bridge crew. “If you have any questions let me know now, because there’s not going to be much time afterward, at least not till we get the Sarafina safely in tow.”

Leventhal says, "Aye, ma'am." He engages the warp drive, and smoothly eases the ship from Warp 1 all the way up to Warp 7.8. The stars in the main viewscreen seem to stream away from a common center in every direction aft as the Yorktown races after the merchant ship. The helmsman soon reports, "Intercept in two minutes, forty seconds, Mr. Onn."

From the Engineering console to Onn's left, Dahlquist says, "Yes, ma'am. I'll get right to work on that." He smiles, gestures for Rangin to approach, turns away and pulls up the Sarafina's specs.

Mahmoud calls belowdecks for Three Crows, de la Paz and St. Croix to report to Transporter Room 1, and asks Lt. JG Ryan Jones to report to the Bridge. "Not much time until intercept, Book," he murmurs. "We should get down there ourselves."

Graham nods friendly acknowledgment to Bancroft, not wanting to get into a discussion about an officer that senior winding up being more likely to be, on balance, more of a draw as a target than a deterrent (no disrespect to Vargas - goes for any top brass, as far as Booker is concerned).

He also nods to Mahmoud. "Let's go." He pauses on the way to the turbolift. "Just give the word if we're needed, Ni-- ma'am," he says quietly, wishing he had more time to talk to Nia about any number of things.

Jones arrives in the turbolift and speaks briefly with Mahmoud before moving to the Security console, nodding respectfully to Onn and saying "Ma'am" as he passes. Mahmoud holds the turbolift for Graham.

Nathaniel wonders if Rangin is always this tightly wound or was it just the situation. Probably the latter. He didn’t seem to have a sense of humor when he was a patient. And some people just didn’t deal with a crisis well. But humor, even if inappropriate has gotten him through the darkest times in his life.

Nathaniel nods at Nia as he takes his station. “Ma’am.”

He doesn’t need her ego stroking though. He knows how good he is. However, this was not his expertise, sitting on a bridge, looking at scanners and computers through reams of information. Give him a patient to cut or a wound to repair and he feels at home. He sure as hell doesn’t feel at home here, though he’d be damned if he’d show it. He takes his station at gets to work, hoping to find answers in these computers.

"No, Ma'am", Rangin replies before heading to the console with Lt Dahlquist, greeting him with a friendly nod. Rangin is feeling a little slighted by Lt. Onn for obviously not knowing something some mundane and boring that anyone of any intelligence would know it. Then again, if it was so obvious then why hadn't anyone thought of doing something about it. In the end, it didn't matter, as long as someone thinks of something to save more people.

"I'm a biologist, not an engineer, Sir" he quietly asides out of Lt. Onn's hearing to Dahlquist. "so, if it's not to do with organics, I'm not that interested."

Rangin looks to the schematic in front of him, nods, and gets ready to work "So Sir, how many replicators do we have on the USS Yorktown and the Sarafina we can hijack for life support? Hopefully they can just produce oxygen, instead of going horribly wrong and producing oxides instead".

Nia takes another sweeping gaze of the Bridge crew, and when it seems no one else has questions or suggestions, she nods tightly. Watching the changing of the guard at Security has upped the stress on her muscles, which she fights to loosen up.

"Thank you, Mr. Mahmoud. Mr. Graham," she says with a meaningful look at the latter. "If the Sarafina's captain has any kind of self-preservation, he'll acquiesce and you can just reconnoiter to make sure the place is safe for the evacuees--and I'll send a pair from Science and Engineering to help.

"If not... well, I'll give the order to beam down. I doubt I need to remind you that we need the Sarafina intact. So stick to stunning everyone--we can't risk a phaser shot harming controls or the hull."

Nia nods again, tacitly saying all sorts of things to Booker, but most of all--be careful.

Remaining on her feet, she takes a deep breath, then flips her comm switch. After the familiar whistle sounds, she begins.

“This is Lt. Onn, from the Bridge. Most of you know about the dangerous situation facing Novy Rostov--its planet and everything in the vicinity of this star will soon be uninhabitable. A significant portion of you are already brainstorming, testing and preparing so we can safely evacuate as many from the colony as possible.

“You’re hearing from me because the Captain and Cmdr. Vargas are down on the planet with a party to handle the preparations there. My orders are to take the Yorktown on what we hope will be a quick side trip to enlist help from a merchant ship that was in orbit just this morning.

“It’s a simple task, but we all know it’s best to be prepared. For that reason, we’ll be under Yellow Alert as soon as this announcement is through.” Nia looks over to Jones, handing him this responsibility.

“As of now, I have a singular assignment for everyone not already undertaking essential tasks as part of Cmdr. Roble, Chief Cheverez or Dr. Villa’s teams, or who isn’t among the two-thirds of the crew that’ll be manning battle stations for Yellow Alert--although once we stand down, the orders will expand to the last group too."

Nia finds herself looking at practical-minded Rangin while she continues. Somehow he is very grounding. “Our chief aim right now is to make this ship ready for the temporary housing of as many people as the Yorktown can safely hold.

"The minimum we’ll be evacuating is 1,200--but I’m not satisfied with that minimum, and none of us should be. So make room. That includes every habitable area. Not a meter or a foot should be wasted space. If there’s anything we can get rid of, we lose it. If a small box can go inside a larger box, do that.

"Be imaginative. This huge vessel's got unused or underutilized space that can be repurposed and made habitable for eight days. If there’s anyplace that’s being kept in lower or higher temperatures than are sustainable for humanoids, like any storage housing machinery or supplies, let's bump it to livable standards. Perfect comfort isn't our goal here. We're gonna be lowering the ambient temperature and other life support levels slightly so as to conserve energy."

She leans both hands on the back of her chair. "Evacuees take precedence over everything that isn’t essential for life support or the basic operations of propelling this ship. We'll be rendezvousing with other ships that can help share the load, but expect a dark ship and fewer uses of replicators--food may be rationed."

After a very brief pause, she adds with a more casual tone: "Start organizing now. If you’re the one to find and provide us significant precious space, you’ll have all our gratitude--and my personal IOU." More seriously: "Any questions, direct them to your supervising officers. That's all--except, thanks, in advance, for doing all you can. Lt. Onn, out."

As her finger flips the shipwide announcement switch off, Nia aims her focus to the Security station. "Mr. Jones. Take us to Yellow Alert."

Dahlquist says to Rangin, looking over the data, "There are four dozen replicators on the Yorktown and none on the Sarafina, at least according to her builder's specs on file. Our replicators are designed for food production only - it's still a new technology - but we might be able to do something with them to bolster our LS capabilities."

Graham and Mahmoud get on the turbolift and are whisked away to Transporter Room 1. Three Crows and St. Croix are already there, and de la Paz arrives on the run half a minute later.

Jones touches the appropriate switch to signal Yellow Alert throughout the ship. After a minute he says to Onn, "All decks, all stations reporting Yellow Alert status, ma'am."

Cheverez reports from belowdecks, "We're taking inventory of emergency supplies now, Mr. Onn, and I've set our shipwrights and artificers to work preparing cots, mattress pads, blankets and other supplies for the evacuees." Similar reports come in from other officers.

"Twenty seconds to intercept, ma'am," Lt. Bennett reports from the Helm.

"Anything we can do to save a few more people", says Rangin as he looks over the specs with Lt Dahlquist. It's the words on everyone's mind at the moment, but the more he keeps saying it, the more Rangin hopes he can find something else that might save a few more people. "It's a shame we can't carry enough oxygen for everyone, would save us having to try and create it. But then we're not a..." the words stick in this throat as he wonders if, just if, "...a cargo ship."

Rangin flicks back to the manifest...Telperion Hardwoods..., what were they being transported in. Hopefully in a solid, airtight cargo bay. If not wrap a force field round it and it is something, perhaps, they could fill up with pressurised oxygen, an entire cargo bay of it.

If they could do it for the Sarafina, could they do it for the Yorktown's own cargo bays. It was as dangerous as anything he could think of, but it might save a precious few more.

He can feel his pulse begin to race and he forces himself to calm down. It was just another possibility and might not even be a good one. He turns to Lt Dahlquist and asks politely, "Sir, would this also be an option?" indicating the possibility on the console.

Nia settles in the Captain's chair, back straight but otherwise doing her best to appear relatively relaxed. She thanks each of the officers who've just reported to her.

"Slow her down, please, Mr. Leventhal. As soon as we're close enough for them to see us--I mean, not via a scan or magnified view, but if they were just to look out their windows--match their speed. At that time, Ensign Kylah, hail the Sarafina."

Her mind full of the information she's just read, Kylah is disappointed that Velir has been moved to another station. And now Mr. Graham is leaving, she thinks desolately. She turns back to her screen and dismisses the research she's done, calling up the scan of the Sarafina to its proper place. She does not expect to find anything, but at least she is doing her duty.

That is... her duty to the Yorktown. Kylah has no idea how to fulfill her responsibility to her House.

Lt. Onn's voice surprises her and after a couple of seconds Kylah understands what she was asked. "Aye aye, ma'am," she says, and prepares to do as the current C.O. asked.

Graham's first orders should they reach the transporter bay are for the Security team to draw Phaser IIs, set to stun--emphasizing damaging the ship is a very bad thing. The team will operate in pairs, with one in each pair drawing a Security tricorder. He punches in a request to Security on the Bridge to transmit deck plans and life sign scans to the tricorders.

Looking over the merchant ship's specs, Dahlquist rubs his chin. He says, "It looks like the Sarafina's cargo bays are pressurized and airtight by design - just like ours. If there's room for people in there, and provisions, there'd be no need for a forcefield."

Leventhal brings the Yorktown slightly astern and to port of the Sarafina. "Matching course and speed, ma'am," he says, clearly tense with the effort of keeping the ship at a close but safe distance while at Warp 5.

"Shields are up," reports Jones from the Security console. "Photon torpedoes locked and phasers on standby." This is standard Yellow Alert protocol when approaching a ship of unknown intentions at warp speed.

The Sarafina does not respond to Kylah's hail.

Graham and his team draw phaser-2s. Each has a communicator, of course. Jones downloads the Sarafina's deck plans and other data to Mahmoud's and St. Croix's tricorders. Ship's sensors show eight people aboard, as expected: four on the Bridge, three in Engineering, and one in personal quarters.

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"Playing hard to get," Nia says under her breath with a slight roll of her eyes, "Smart choice."

She leans forward before speaking more firmly. "Jones. Remind me of their defensive/offensive capability Also, are their shields up? Wanna make sure that if we do need to board, we can."

Opening a comm link to Booker, Nia clears her throat. "Onn to Graham: Boarding party, stand by. Confirm that you're all armed and in position."

Nathaniel looks up from his computer screen as the Yorktown prepares to board the Sarafina.. He wonders, like everyone else has to be, why they weren’t answering their hails.

Jones says, "She has a single phaser bank at her bow that couldn't penetrate our shields in a month of Sundays, ma'am. She also has standard deflector shields for a ship of her size and class, a Spencer Mark VIIA system, and they're up now. But we could knock them down without too much difficulty, if needed."

Dr. Bennett sees from the Sarafina's specs that she has a small Sickbay, very limited medical supplies and no ship's doctor, although, by Federation law, one of the crew is supposed to be trained as a medic.

Another nod to Jones. "Nice," Nia says, fingers tapping her chair arms. "Thank you, Mr. Jones. Be prepared to knock out that shield, making sure you hit just the rim."

She turns back to the large viewscreen and squints at the Sarafina. A bit antsy, she contacts Booker again. "Onn to Graham. Waiting for your confirmation. Meantime, FYI, boarding may require our taking down their shields. I'm thinking we aim for the shields' ventral circumference, at a downward angle--this way any residual phaser fire moves safely past the ship itself. Your thoughts on this strategy?"

Nia glances over at Cece and Horst's backs. "We may need to get the ship a bit higher to make that sort of downwards angle possible. We're basically playing 3D pool."

She taps her fingers again. Opening a channel is next on her to-do list, but she wants to hear from Book first.

Graham almost smacks himself in the fore head as a realizes they are a party of five, not six. He goes to the comm panel and requests Ens. Russell meet them in the transporter room on the double.

He shakes his head as he responds to Onn. "Graham here. Sorry for the delay - we need just a moment to round out the party. Agree with your targeting plan." He smiles slightly, realizing he's going to be more informal than he might if the Captain and Vargas were onboard--but everyone could use a little counterbalance to the stress level, for god's sake...

"If you get tired of being a brilliant pilot, you might have a future in Security."

"No Sir", Rangin tries again with Lt Dahlquist. "It's not about storing people in there, it's about storing oxygen. As much as we can make or gather to try and supply the trip back for as many people as possible."

He points out the details on the hold. "If they act as a cargo carrier for oxygen with those big airtight bays, we can carry a lot more people." Rangin can feel frustration building as he tries to work out the logistics. "We've only been looking at the Sarafina's Life Support in terms of the extra people it can carry. Not that the ship is a cargo ship in it's own right. If those bays are pressurised with oxygen, especially if we can get it to liquid state, we should be able to take a lot more than the two hundred extra, we can still try and squeeze onto the Sarafina at the same time."

"Do you see what I am aiming for?"

Jones says, "Ma'am, if we're still moving at warp speed, only the photon torpedoes will be usable. Phasers won't work at warp."

Ens. Josiah F. Russell, a beefy young American, soon arrives in the transporter room and is issued a phaser-2. He looks ready and eager to go.

Dahlquist frowns. "The projections for the Sarafina to take 200 people are based on using the cargo bays themselves to accommodate them all. There's just not enough room inside for that many people otherwise. Other than the cargo bays, the habitable spaces within the ship are quite small. It has less than ten crew, after all."

Ugh, where is my brain? Nia places a hand on her forehead, massaging her temples. She can't even blame her slip on a Bilitrium-deprived system: it's waaay too early for any symptoms.

She twists around to nod at Jones, then turns back to continue speaking to Booker. "I appreciate that, Mr. Graham, but you're clearly too generous. Jones here is right--I meant photons, not phasers. I suspect you were being tactful in not correcting me." Her lips pull sideways in a smile. "Maybe you have a future in diplomacy."

Though reluctant to do so, Nia knows she has to cut this short. "Glad your team's all ready to go in, hot or cold. You'll hear from me soon either way." Her voice softens a touch. "Good luck, Booker. Hope you won't need it. Onn out."

Cutting the connection before he can speak--she can't bear another goodbye--Nia shifts her smile so it's less playful and again turns to the Security station. "Thanks, Jones--remind me to buy you a drink next shore leave."

She holds her breath for a few seconds, then exhales. "All right. Enough with the polite hails. Let's see what they have to say for themselves."

Settling in her chair--well, it's hers temporarily--Nia relaxes her muscles, keeps her expression neutral, and prevents her fingers from digging into the arms. Firm resolve is a good look under such circumstances. Anxious tension is not.

"Kylah, open a channel to the Sarafina." She eyes the ship onscreen and adds grimly: "If necessary, brute force their comm system."

Kylah nods. "Yes, Lieutenant."

Even as she swivels to her screen to obey the command, her mind is thinking ahead to what she will need to do if somehow the Sarafina has not merely chosen not to respond, but has actually blocked the Yorktown's transmissions.

Her training taught her how to hack into other ships' systems in case of just such an emergency. But each ship is slightly different, and time is definitely not on her side.

It is likely she will have no trouble opening a channel. Her job is to be prepared for the unlikely.

Her fingers move rapidly. "Attempting now, ma'am."

As far as Ens. Kylah can tell, the Sarafina is receiving the Yorktown's transmissions - or, at least, is not actively blocking them. There is no jamming on any subspace band, although she knows that the heavy cruiser's powerful transmitter and sophisticated countermeasures could easily overcome it, if there were. Scans show that the smaller merchant ship's communications suite is fully functional; they have simply chosen not to respond. Kylah is able to open a channel.

In Transporter Room 1, Ens. Russell picks up a tricorder, puts the strap over his shoulder and opens its display screen.

Seeing the viewscreen unchanged, Nia frowns, turns to Kylah expectantly, then swipes her stiff fingers across her neck in the universally understood cut the mic sign.

Kylah nods hurriedly and taps a button on her panel. Free to speak again, Nia does her best to rein in her frustration. "Ensign, did you try to get them onscreen?"

The young woman's flush gives her ashen skin much-needed color as she shakes her head. "They have been ignoring our hails purposely, so I...I do not think--"

Nia tilts her head with raised brows, which--as expected--is enough to interrupt Kylah's excuses. "I am sorry, Lieutenant," the girl says instead. "I will try now." Kylah pulls her attention back to the Comm panel, fingers tapping away.

Stop taking your anger out on her. Irritated at how tightly wound she is, Nia turns back to the current view of the Sarafina. While waiting to see if Kylah succeeds, she runs through what she'll need to say. There are formalities involved... even if Nia's not in the mood to spout rules and regs, she still needs to make them clear to the cowards in the little ship out there.

She forces her game-face back on. It's unlikely this idiot captain will suddenly start behaving as if he's just realized the Yorktown exists by letting them make visual contact. But still, she hopes Kylah's efforts work.

She wants to look this selfish shithead in the eyes before taking control of his goddamned ship.

Kylah can tell the hailing frequency is open, but the Sarafina still does not respond. Both ships continue on parallel courses at Warp 5.

"All right, team," Graham says as he scans the assembled Security officers. "I don't know why these assholes aren't cooperating, but anything less is not an option. We'll adapt the game plan as needed, but as for baseline assignments: St. Croix, you're with me, we're 'Team Bridge.' I want control of this ship ASAP. Mahmoud, Three Crows - you're Team Eng. Secure the Engine room. Russell, de la Paz - you're Rapid Reaction. A team needs help or something squirrely happens, that's your cue."

Graham reflexively checks his phaser settings. "This ship means 200 lives saved." Maybe Marala, Nikolai...Marala would never leave without Nikolai.

"Simple message, simple mandate: we are executing this mission in response to a planetary emergency pursuant to a Code One alert. Sarafina's crew will comply immediately or we will seize the ship."

Graham's statement is met by a chorus of brisk "Aye, sir"s and "Understood, sir"s. The boarding party looks calm, cool, collected and more than ready.

Seeing Kylah's regretful shake of her head--not to mention the obvious lack of anyone on the viewscreen--Nia gives up. She gets her comm open to Booker and quickly says, "Book. You should listen in on this, if it wouldn't blow your concentration. I want you knowing what the status is without a delay. Also..." Also you can give me advice, because I feel...

What does she feel? Not overwhelmed, exactly. She's been in charge of tough missions before. But so many lives are at stake here... everyone from the boarding party to Singh's group to, obviously, the 8,000 plus on the planet.

"...Also, if you suspect that we need a different strategy, let me know--no, send it through Ensign Kylah's earpiece. I don't want the Sarafina hearing anyone but me. For that reason I'm muting you, but otherwise our connection's open. Thanks."

She nods to Kylah, giving permission to turn the audio back on, and swivels to face forward.

"Captain Bell," she begins archly. "I'm Lt. Onn, acting commander of the USS Yorktown--I believe you've spoken with Captain Singh earlier. We've been trying to reach you for quite some time with no reply." Nia leans forward, as if that brings her infinitesimally closer to the Sarafina. "Hopefully your ability to listen is still functional."

Her tone changes from dry to sharp. "As I suspect you know by now, our Captain and the Governor of Novy Rostov have declared a planetary emergency. Their star is unstable and ready to blast radiation that will destroy every living thing in its wake. The entire population is in imminent danger."

"We need every possible ship able to assist in their evacuation. So far everyone else we've requested help from is doing their best, but they're too far away. Your ship, however, is not. Frankly, the Sarafina's refusal to respond to an urgent distress call when you're the nearest ship to the planet is both inexplicable and unacceptable."

Nia takes a necessary steadying breath. "As a result," she says firmly, "and given the dire nature of this emergency, I'm authorized both by Federation law and Starfleet regulations to commandeer your vessel."

She stands up, hands on hips, still directing her words at the viewscreen. "I hereby order you to reverse course and return immediately to Novy Rostov, where you'll help take on evacuees. We estimate a ship your size can hold up to 200, more or less. I'm commanding you to prepare for as many extra passengers as possible."

Nia steps forward, her whole body as rigid as her demeanor. "Just in case you don't know the consequences involved here: if you ignore me, or fail to comply to my orders--or from any of our officers in the course of this emergency--you'll be subject to felony charges. That'll get you a fine, imprisonment and even the potential forfeiture of your ship.

"And by the way, these charges apply to you and your crew," she adds pointedly for the benefit of any others onboard the Sarafina listening to this. If his shipmates want to save themselves some grief, they better urge Bell to obey.

Her fingers drum on her hips. "All right. I'm giving you thirty seconds to respond with an acknowlegement of my orders and your plan to comply. After that, I'm afraid you'll be forcing me, and the extremely powerful, Constitution-class ship under my command, to undertake less diplomatic measures to ensure the Sarafina returns with us."

She sweeps a quick, confident glance at the Bridge crew, hoping she's hiding her nerves, before she sits again and faces the merchant vessel ahead. "My countdown starts now."

Graham immediately keys in to Nia's voice, listening intently. What they hell is up with Sarafina? Smuggling? Espionage?

And...there's too much to unpack that Nia's turning to him. It's...well, probably smart, Security expertise is relevant. But he's also honored. And his advice be damned, he's proud of her. Also, the sexy part...Don't go there while wearing the typical Starfleet uniform in public, Booker....

He gestures to the team and glance at the transporter chief. "On the pads, 30 seconds out if things get hot."

On his way to the pad he contacts Ens. Kylah. "Give Ni-- Lt. Onn a thumbs up." He realizes he has no idea if a non-Terran has any idea what that gesture means. "Er, convey I approve. And boarding party is on station and ready."

The members of the Yorktown's boarding party take their positions on the transporter pad. All confirm their phasers are on stun. Chief Harrison, standing at the transporter console, makes final adjustments to the controls.

The thirty seconds which Onn allotted tick by, and nothing happens. The ships, one large and one small, continue on course. The Bridge is silent but for the muted hum and hushed whirring of the instruments. Onn is aware of the gaze of several of the crew resting on her.

The thick tension emanating from the entire Bridge crew is suffocating. Kylah works as hard as she can to protect her mind, but since she is weary and already preoccupied with her own dread, the weight of all the myriad emotions presses down on her like a foot squashing a tiny bug.

Lt. Graham's voice startles her by buzzing in her ear. Of course, Kylah heard Lt. Onn make the request of him; she should have expected it. That is how frayed her nerves are.

She nods at his message, remaining silent as Lt. Onn asked. His initial reference to thumbs-up makes her wince. On Elas, it is a lewd gesture. She tried to explain this to her classmates at the Academy, hoping it would enlighten them; instead, she had foolishly provided the young men with another way to harass her.

Kylah's fingers tap out a confirmation that she will pass along his message. After the slightest hesitation, she adds, Please be careful, sir. You are needed. And with a final tap she is done.

Now able to listen, Kylah is surprised at how acidic the Lieutenant's tone is. Captain Singh would never be this disrespectful to a fellow ship's commander. At least, not as an opening salvo. Kylah cannot help flashing a look at Velir. What would he do in such circumstances?

She admits that the situation has been exacerbated by Sarafina's extraordinary refusal to respond to an urgent, high-priority message from a Starfleet ship. They must respond now, she thinks with rare optimism.

But now the Lieutenant has issued a sort of ultimatum with a time limit. Kylah watches Lt. Onn while she--and, she senses, most everyone around her--mentally counts down the allotted thirty seconds, with nothing from the Sarafina but ominous silence. At the halfway mark, Kylah turns hopefully to her panel. Nothing.

Her gaze flicks back to Lt. Onn for the remaining seconds... which elapse far, far too quickly.