Star Trek RPG - Mission #4: "Codex Aelyrr"

Rangin looks around the Bridge any trace of boredom and tiredness swept away by the news of the last minute or so. He tries to stop wondering what is out there and think about it rationally. Flights of fancy were all very well but until there was some hard data it was just wishful thinking of what might be, to be nearly always swept away in boring and mundane answer. It was rare something new came out of this kind of situation and until whoever was on those ships wanders up close and personal and the Yorktown can see them, it isn't worth trying to come up with any answers.

Checking to see if the other crew are feeling the same, he wonders how long he will have to wait before something else occurs. All he can do until then is make sure the ship is ready for that moment. "Mr Mille, Mr St Croix, statuses please?" if anything is going to happen, Rangin wants the ship and its security both ready to react to whatever is out there.

While they are checking, he suddenly thinks of the first thing he should be doing. Just like any science experiment, no matter how exciting, always keep a record. Rangin opens his datapad and starts to take notes in his familiar shorthand.

Rangin knows that the Ship's Computer automatically and continuously records what is said and done on the Bridge.

Ens. Jeanne St. Croix, at the Security console, says, "All Security systems nominal, sir. No problems reported anywhere aboard. Ship's phasers, photon torpedoes and deflector shields are on standby but are ready if needed."

Lt. Robert Mille, at the Engineering post, says, "All indicators are green for the warp drive, and we're maintaining course and speed without difficulty. Impulse drive is offline but also available if needed."

Roble steps down into the well of the Bridge and asks Rangin quietly, "Should we take a closer look at those ships?"

Graham listens silently to Nia, wondering:

Did I do something wrong?

Or is their something...personal...about the breathing stuff that she'd rather keep private, or finds embarrassing?

"It doesn't change anything," he says, uambiguously--although, in point of fact, it doesn't change anything for him, but he's not sure it hasn't changed something for her...

"I...know you're not sick, but I'd like to stay to make sure you're OK all the same." He pauses a moment, neither tightening nor relaxing his arms around her. "If...if I'm bothering you I can go sleep on the couch."

"Is that should we, or we should Mr. Roble?" Rangin mutters quietly back to the officer. "I will admit my scientific curiousity is piqued and l, and I am sure others as well, would be interested to know what is there." Rangin weighs up the options of heading across there while still supposed to be supporting the science experiment on board. But this is balanced against not passing up such a golden opportunity. What would Captain Singh do? Ignore it and carry on or investigate the ships. Dr Brold would no doubt claim that his experiment should take precedent, but Rangin had already provided stats to last a day or so.

Rangin makes his decision. "I think you're right Mr Roble. We shouldn't pass up an opportunity for first contact, if indeed this is what it is."

Rangin takes a deep breath and prepares to make his first, and hopefully not the last, major decision as a Captain. The knot in his stomach only adding to tension he can feel as he works out his next commands.

"Mr. Gral. How close do you need to be for a good sensor sweep of that area? Mr Brooks. Please plot a course brnging us close enough for Mr Gral and how much of a detour it would be. Mr. Kylah. Anything on that transmission would be useful."

Noting his thoughts in his own log entry, Rangin sits and waits nervously for something to do. "Well Mr Roble, lets see what we have out there. Please monitor to see if they notice us." Rangin leans back in the chair waiting for the new course to be calculated.

Brooks thinks for a moment, checks his board and says, "I could alter our course by ten degrees to starboard and hold it for half an hour, while either maintaining Warp 5 or increasing speed. That should bring us close enough to significantly improve our sensor readings without getting too far off course"

Gral nods. "That would work. Then we could resume our original course with little lost time. I recommend we do it, sir."

Nia hates this. She doesn't want Booker to think she's frail either physically or emotionally. Because she's not, and hasn't been in a long time. Lifting her arm, she gently pulls Booker down, and lifts her own body up, so she's close enough to kiss--if he wants to. Letting her iips brush against his cheek, she whispers: "I want you here. I'm just--not used to being seen like this."

She kisses his cheek and with her free hand gestures with the mask. "I'll need another four or five hours on this," she continues, wishing she could read his mind, or at least see his eyes more clearly in the dim room. "If you you don't mind, and can sleep here, with me..." Her gazes searches the shadows beneath his brows for any sign of doubt as she admits softly, "I'd like that very much."

Graham gives her a gentle kiss, feeling a bit like he's trying to balance--blind to the true twists and turns of the path--between showing he cares and making too big a deal out of what happened in a way that upsets Nia further.

"I would too," he replies softly and evenly, after a moment adjusting his position so she can lie comfortably with the mask on while he still is able to put an arm around her.

He's grateful for it...But now he's also grateful for the darkness, and the fait accompli presented by the mask that prevents more conversation.

Because every quantum of awareness of being here, with her, in the aftermath of a real fear of losing her at once draws him closer to the being present in the moment and calls him further away....

Toward remembering holding someone without appreciating the risk of losing her...stupid, so goddamned stupid...

And never being able to hold her again, not even her cold body.

He's listening to Nia's breathing, his ears still attuned to listen for anything wrong (her reassurances not withstanding). But his stare upwards toward the ceiling in the dark is far away.

Jane...

There's nothing to say to Jane's ghost. There's nothing to say to Nia. He's searching for his younger self, to tell him--to understand that very last moment he held her, to burn it into his mind in a way infinitely above and beyond a couples's every day kisses or embraces fade into the routing...

Or just to never let go. You should have never let go, Booker....

Moving carefully so as not to disturb Nia, though still gazing upward at the ceiling, he shifts just slight so his arm is settled more snugly around her shoulder.

Never let go.

Setting her jaw, Kylah stares at the frequency spectrum, wondering how it can be so dense yet show no harmonics to indicate additional image or video data. She hears Velir's discussion with Roble and the orders he gives to the rest. The prospect of changing course to advance closer to the possible vessels is unsettling. If we move near enough to sense them... they might be able to sense us.

Should she voice this concern? The urge to do so nags at her. Instead she merely digs her nails into her knees. Velir and Roble must know what they are doing. Velir is not the type to take risks... Although, to find new life forms... that is his specialty. Might his curiosity overshadow his caution?

The disloyalty grates on her and she pushes it away. And when he tells her that more information on the transmission would be useful, she also pushes away the impulse to say "If I had more, I would give you more."

She swallows and responds: "Yes, sir. All I can tell you thus far is that this message is... different. There is far more data transmitting on a single frequency; I think that is why the translator is having little success as yet. I will continue to analyze manually as well."

She stares at the screen. More data, densely packed, but apparently not different types of data. A vague thought occurs to her, and she rubs her forehead as if massaging her brain will help make sense of it. Could this be some kind of... synchronized or simultaneous broadcast? [I]Perhaps the message is dense because it is coming from multiple voices--if these are indeed living beings, she still cannot determine that--all speaking at once. Like a... like a group recitation or a spoken chorus?

The theory seems farfetched and Kylah does not share it with the others. Sighing, she sits back. Then, starting over while still listening to the message, she calls up the frequency spectrum graph of the original to compare it with this new one on her screen. Are there any similar patterns anywhere in the old and new messages?

"Thank you Mr Brooks, Mr Gral for your recommendations." Rangin pauses while taking in Kylah's slightly frustrated reply. "Thank you Mr Kylah," he calls back to her, "without an understanding, we don't want start anything we can't respond to diplomatically."

Rangin nods as the pieces of information come back to him trying to work out what they should do. The nagging cause for concern is that if anything does happen they will not be able to communicate with them and the last thing he wants to do is kick off an interstellar incident over a minor misunderstanding. Stranger things have happened.

It feels like a few moments and he is terribly aware of everyone in the room waiting for him to give an order and for a moment he can understand that loneliness of Captaincy, that whatever happens next is his responsibility. It would be so easy to turn it down, just go past at extreme range and forget it ever happened, At least that way, everything and everyone would be fine and they could just go about the business without incident and no chance of starting anything. The safe option.

But that isn't just why they are here. Their job is also to be at the forefront of the Federation and its exploration of the Universe. What lies ahead could be both good or bad, but if they don't look, they can never find out. And taking these kind of risks is what they all signed up for...

"Very well," he calls out clearly to the quiet of the Bridge, "Mr Brooks, Mr Leventhal. Lay in the course, maintain speed at Warp 6 and steady as she goes."

...and he would have the fun of explaining to the Captain and Dr Brold of exactly why they have deviated from their course.

Roble nods and steps back to the Science II station.

"Aye, sir," says Brooks, responding to Rangin's order. "Course plotted and laid in."

"Increasing speed to Warp 6," Leventhal says, snapping switches at the Helm. "Course change now initiated."

Rangin can feel the ship shift slightly as it turns to starboard. The underlying tone of the Yorktown's mighty warp drive nacelles rises and grows before settling into a new continuous hum.

Kylah sees that the density of the new signal is due to multiple inputs at the source, as if indeed from a chorus or group recitation. The frequency spectrum graph and UT pattern-analysis matrix show only a single similar pattern to the original broadcasts, however. The others in the dense transmission are dissimilar, although apparently in the same or a closely-related language.

Kylah's eyes widen at the confirmation of what seemed to be a wild guess on her part. She leans forward, scowling, and rubs her eyes as she peers at UT's results. It might be her lack of sleep catching up to her, but she needs to make absolutely certain her understanding of the analysis is correct before she passes it along to the others.

So... Her finger traces the frequency spectrum graph while she works this out. Only one pattern appears to resemble the original broadcast--perhaps it is a repeated or replayed message, or at least one using similar words? Meanwhile, the rest are in unison, but sending a different message? Possibly in the same language as the first?

Kylah tries another longshot and attempts to distinguish the unique pattern from the others, and identify just how many 'voices' are in this group.

There seem to be at least eight different "voices" or narrative sources in the transmission. Kylah keeps working, and after another ten minutes, has a breakthrough with the UT. The primary thread of the transmission is, she realizes, a distress call. The key portion reads:

This is the Naradraen. We are under attack by an enemy [untranslatable] ship. We have taken casualties and have been badly damaged. Our situation is critical, and we require immediate assistance. Please, please help us! The blessings of Ael upon whoever comes to our rescue.

Gral says moments later, "I'm detecting energy discharges between the ships, Mr. Rangin. I believe they're firing on each other."

Rangin is making some personal notes for later as to why he had increased the speed to allow for the signals to be investigated and to try and get back on schedule. Once they resume course and are on schedule again, they can drop back to Warp 5. Hopefully, they can get some useful information and still be on time.

But Lt. Gral's call brings up the one scenario that Rangin is probably least prepared for. A full firefight in the middle of space. Yes, he's done his time in the Academy, but that was in Science, not on the Command track. The Kobayashi Maru was someone's else problem, well now it could be his.

Still, without further information there was little anyone is going to do without answers to a few pertinent questions, like should they get involved and if they did, was it a wise thing to do.

He clips the orders out as he runs down his own mental checklist of what he needs.
How far away..."Mr Leventhal, how close are they at current speed?"
What's there..."Mr Roble, Mr St Croix, tactical analysis: what's taking part? "
Who are they..."Mr Kylah, any luck deciphering what this incident might be about?"

Rangin grips the arms of the chair tight, trying not to leap to his feet and start pacing around as his usually did when trying to gather his thoughts around him and work through a problem. He needed something else to concentrate on, a fixed point of focus... "Mr Gral, main viewscreen if you can."

"Aye sir," Kylah says, and passes along the translated distress call. There are several uncertainties in her mind that nag at her and she tries to work them out.

All that is required for evil to flourish is that good people do nothing. It's strange the thoughts that flow in the mind when he hears the news, but he knows that whatever he might be doing, he cannot stand aside. He didn't against the Orion Syndicate on Coridan and he wouldn't do here.

"Thank you Mr Kylah, when possible respond offering assistance. Mr Brooks, please plot possible courses and times for intercept. Mr Gral, let us know if any start heading in our direction."

He considers ordering a Yellow Alert, but the Yorktown was in no immediate danger and still some way from the battle going on. A brief glance at Mr Roble as the ranking officer on the bridge and Rangin realises that as an Ensign, he probably shouldn't be ordering one of Starfleet's finest ships into a battle. Especially not on his first time out in charge. Until now, everything had been a matter of course and aside from some explanations he was going to have to make about the signal, now he was going to have to explain a whole lot more.

"Mr Kylah, please patch me through to the Captain's quarters."

When done so, Rangin flicks the switch in the Captain's chair and hails her, knowing that waking her in a comm call is likely to be preferable to the screeching alarms.

"Ensign Rangin to Captain Singh. My apologies for waking you, but we have a situation."

Leventhal says, "We'll be there in 20 minutes at current speed, sir."

St. Croix reports, "Preliminary tactical scan shows two ships, both smaller than the Yorktown. One is firing more than the other. They've dropped out of warp and are moving no more than several thousand kms relative to each other."

"Sensor readings are improving as we approach, Mr. Rangin," Roble adds. "I should have better and more specific data shortly."

The Bridge's main viewscreen still shows a starscape ahead, with the purplish-red nebula growing steadily more distinct, but still no ships are visible to the naked eye. Gral says, "We should have better imagery in the next few minutes, although at extreme visual range."

Even if she has just woken up, Singh doesn't sound at all groggy. "Report, Mr. Rangin."

Unsure about the feasibility of sending a reply message when she does not know the language, Kylah tries to get sure. Why was the UT able to translate the group's message but not the solo version? Without any context, such a translation of an utterly unknown language is literally impossible. Perhaps this distress call is much closer to High Caitian than the other, solo 'voice'?

The fact that one name is untranslatable, but two others--"Naradraen" and "Ael"--were seemingly correctly rendered as names--is an inconsistency that confuses her as well. Unless I am right, and this group message is indeed much closer to High Caitian than the original source. Perhaps the translated names are known to the ancient Caitians, but the third one is not. Which indicates that the ship in distress is from some civilization that are connected to the Caitians, but whoever is transmitting that other message--presumably the entity that is firing on the Naradraen--is not.

With these guesses in mind, she starts to seek answers from the computer: Is the group's message close or identical to High Caitian or some other known language? And is the untranslatable word more closely connected to the original message?

But why would the second language--presumably the aggressors in this battle, if the distress call is to be believed--be transmitting on the same band, simultaneously with the group under attack? Kylah cannot understand this. Perhaps the messages' sources are so close that the Yorktown's sensors are unable to distinguish them...?

Next, she tries to find any reference to Naradraen or Ael, either within the Starfleet database or the wider subspace net. She assumes Ael is a deity; as far as the Naradraen, it may be a mythological or historical reference, especially if it is indeed the name of a vessel. Both these names might still be part of Caitian knowledge.

Finally, while the computer thinks away, Kylah double-checks the appropriate protocol for First Contact. This will be her first official attempt at it, and she does not want to deviate froms tandard procedure. After all, the last time she met new aliens--the Hwuen--did not work out well for her.

Twenty minutes, Kylah thinks as she hears the response from Leventhal. She prays she can determine the answers before then.

The language of the transmission has some elements of High Caitian but is more unlike it than like it. The distress call was in the "single voice" thread and not the "chorus" of the dense transmission. There is no reference in Federation records, including in the High Caitian language database, to the words "Naradraen" or "Ael." The untranslatable word is linguistically dissimilar from the rest of the broadcast and there is not enough data yet to translate it. Starfleet's First Contact protocols specify peaceful contact, if possible, along with assurances of Federation goodwill, appropriate statements of Federation principles and political norms, and expressions of a desire for diplomatic relations, trade and cultural exchanges, if welcomed by the other race.

The UT works through the other seven "voices" of the chorus and gives a preliminary analysis - each appears to be a personal religious statement by a different individual. "Ael" is referred to by each in such a way as to indicate that he, she or it is a monotheistic deity.

Kylah is concerned that she mixed up the transmission sources. She looks away from the screen and scans the Bridge, trying to gauge her awareness and wondering if she should stand down from duty. This is too important, she is not ready, she will inevitably ruin things...

Her gaze falls on Velir. He is not panicking, at least from what she can see. He seems concerned. She is not infringing on his emotional privacy again--not after breaking her promise to herself back in his room yesterday afternoon. But she knows Velir well enough by now to recognize the little line between his eyes that deepens when he is concentrating on a difficult problem.

You wanted to show him you can be strong and professional. Do not run away again.

She turns back to her panel and takes a deep breath, holds it, and then exhales. Think, think! How can she possibly communicate with the "Naradraen"? If this language is so dissimilar to High Caitian, communicating to them in that language seems unlikely to work. Frankly, given this dissimilarity, she has no idea what magic by which the UT managed to translate so specific a distress call without any references or context in the first place: it seems an impossibility, at least according to everything she knows about linguistics and decryption.

All at once an idea occurs to her. She looks back at the distress call language:

This is the Naradraen. We are under attack by an enemy [untranslatable] ship. We have taken casualties and have been badly damaged. Our situation is critical, and we require immediate assistance. Please, please help us! The blessings of Ael upon whoever comes to our rescue.

Then gives a slight gasp when she realizes the solution: Why--I can use the words in the message itself! If I create a response using only the translated vocabulary in the original message and the distress call, the UT can change it back to the original language. Kylah knows it will not suit the protocol for first contacts, but this is an emergency situation. The niceties about trade and ethics must wait for a time when they are not entering the fray of a battle. And when I can speak more than the most basic of words.

Thinking hard, Kylah constructs the following draft: This is the ship, the Yorktown, to the Naradraen. Our course is to help the Naradraen; rescue comes. After a hesitation, she adds: Whoever is enemy?

A grimace twists her mouth. For someone who speaks in the elite dialect of her own people, composing such gibberish is anathema. But it is the best she can do with the limited vocabulary she has been given; hopefully it will be clear enough.

She sets this draft aside and turns to the mechanics of finding a subspace channel to match that of the distress signal. This message must be heard by the correct recipient--not the enemy.

"Ma'am, situation as follows. We picked up another strange transmission, a distress call that a ship in the area was being attacked." Rangin steels himself for the next sentence, "We diverted slightly to see if assistance is required and it appears there is an engagement taking place between two ships. We are still analysing data on the situation ahead and if we were to assist in any way we can be there in twenty minutes."

There's a moment's pause as Rangin switches from the factual to his own personal feelings about the situation. "Ma'am, I'm loathe to let a distress call go unanswered."

Kylah may, with authorization, send a response on the same subspace channel through which the messages have been received. She may send it in the language of origin - a database of which the UT is developing with each passing minute - and in other languages, as well, including High Caitian (which might be better understood by the aliens than Kylah can understand their tongue), Federation Standard, Linguacode and any others.

Singh says, "I'm inclined to agree, Mr. Rangin. Recommendations?"

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Linguacode

After finishing her message, Kylah ponders the strange illogical conundrum. The UT--or at least, the way the ship's computer is parsing the UT's output--must be in need of repair. Everyone who understands how translation works knows that it is literally impossible to translate a language given what the computer is claiming--that this alien language bears almost no resemblance to High Caitian or any other known Federation language.

As she learned in her Communications courses over the years--as well as her own experience prior to joining the Academy--unknown languages are not like cryptograms; such puzzles only work because the solver knows that the cipher is based on a specific language, with each letter replacing a letter in this known alphabet. That is not the case here.

Kylah remembers learning that in Earth's history, ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics were utterly untranslatable for nearly two thousand years, eluding the understanding of linguistic experts and anthropologists alike. Only the discovery of the Rosetta Stone in the early 19th century made them comprehensible, thanks to providing the same message in hieroglyphics as well as other already-known languages. With such a primer, the hieroglyphics were finally decrypted.

Then there was the famous case of the Voynich Manuscript. Whether it is a code, stenography, an invented language, or an unknown previously existing language... whatever it contains remained a mystery since its origins multiple centuries ago.

She shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present. I can only assume this language must be more like High Caitian than the computer is indicating. There is simply no other logical explanation for the UT's ability to translate it, other than sheer magic.

Clearly there is something wrong with the way the UT is interacting with the computer system. Kylah diligently sends a note to the engineering department to double-check the parsing of the UT's output. Then, satisfied, she proceeds to translate her message into a more lucid version in High Caitian and Federation Standard, and the still often unreliable Linguacode. Once she gets approval she will send it in those languages. At the very least, she is pleased to know her rudimentary version will certainly be understood.

From whom will Kylah seek approval?

She's waiting for Velir's order., or Singh's, depending on the results of his conversation with the captain.

"Answer the distress call ma'am, politely and diplomatically. We still don't know the full extent of what is occurring or the ships involved. Given the nature of the engagement ahead I would also consider going to Yellow Alert now in readiness pending possible action."

Rangin takes stock of the situation and his own readiness for such an undertaking. "Ma'am, If there is an engagement, I'm not the right person to be sat here." he says through gritted teeth, but knowing its the right thing to say. He hasn't really been fully trained for this, as in taking a Starship into either a First Contact situation or an engagement, let alone both at the same time. "I can do it, but this might require a more...experienced touch."

Kylah turns slightly to watch Velir, unable to hide her admiration. Having grown up among power-hungry, ambitious men, she finds little as admirable as someone who recognizes a weakness, who knows when his limits have been reached and can willingly cede to another's greater knowledge. The ability to regroup and change one's plans to suit a changing situation is one of the most important attributes of a leader. Velir may denigrate himself now, but Kylah knows that one day he will make an excellent command level officer--if that is what he wishes.

"I concur, Mr. Rangin. Answer the distress call but don't go to Yellow Alert yet. I'll be up shortly. Singh out."

Rangin closes the comm channel and takes a moment to compose himself. Looking straight forward at the viewscreen, as if he can somehow see the events unfolding in front of him, he steels himself to give the orders he knows he should give to the Bridge.

"Mr Kylah, please respond to the distress call offering assistance from the Yorktown. Mr Brooks, Mr Leventhal, lay in a course for the two ships and engage. All posts, standby."

"Let's see what we can do to help." he mutters to no-one in particular.

Kylah nods tightly and sends the message in its various translations. "Aye aye, sir," she says, wanting Velir to know she stands with him--even if they do not really stand together. She continues to monitor the broadcast in hopes that the Naradraen will understand and respond.

Brooks and Leventhal comply, and the Yorktown moves ever closer to the battle.

Kylah soon has a response from the other ship, which the UT immediately renders into Federation Standard: Message received, Yorktown. We welcome and urgently need your assistance. Please hurry! We expect to be boarded momentarily. We are.... The transmission is then cut off in a wave of subspace static.

Gral says to Rangin, "One of the two ships, sir, is of an unfamiliar design not found in Federation records; the other is a Klingon scoutship, E5 class."

Capt. Singh comes onto the Bridge.

Kylah's heart pounds as she hears the message and relays it to Velir. Despite the likely futility she attempts to reconnect with the Naradraen--not using her ship's name this time for fear of giving away too much information to anyone who has boarded the ship. "Naradraen. We are on our way. Please respond if you can. Naradraen, please respond--"

Then Gral's words freeze her in place. A Klingon scoutship. Apparently attacking a nonaggressive alien.

All along she's known the high likelihood of encountering Klingons in a Federation capacity, but she has never been able to predict the circumstances. Arriving in mid-battle, with the Klingons apparently the aggressors... It could not possibly be worse.

Back home, when she was preparing to leave for her new Yorktown assignment, Aldaan's only suggestion regarding such a possibility was: "Your safety is paramount. You are too valuable and must survive. No matter what allegiance you must choose in order to make that happen, in the end you must side with the victors."

The advice--really a command--was neither helpful, laudable or palatable. Kylah prays it will not be necessary to make such a decision.

Her mind runs through the situation as unemotionally as she can. A scout ship against the Yorktown is a poor match indeed. If she recalls correctly, Klingon scout ships generally can only hold 12 or fewer crew members. Why is the Naradraen prey to such a small vessel--and why would they attack at all? Then again, she does not know how large or powerful the Naradraen is.

Singh's arrival on the Bridge is a relief. Of course Velir should have his chance at command, and he would likely acquit himself admirably if it were necessary. But with Klingons involved... Experience is vital.

Rangin exhales sharply at Lt Gral's report and really wishes he hadn't thought about the Kobiyashi Maru, tempting fate like that.

"Oh. just. dandy." he growls under his breath, as where there is a Scoutship, there is likely to be a Warbird around somewhere. Well, if Roble had thought he was going to be getting some valuable experience, he couldn't have been more right. He tries to recall from memory what to do in these situations only to go blank. It wasn't a very necessary part of the Science course and frankly he never thought he would be in this kind of situation. Spending more time than most on placements, spotting new species, had left him a little rusty on the finer points of interstellar combat and his experiences on a more local level are going to be of no use in this situation.

As Captain Singh enters the Bridge, he rises from the Captain's chair, her chair really, and stands in front of it, considering the fact that waking her had probably been his smartest move all evening. But there's no feeling of relief, just a gnawing sense of a job yet to be done, a job he isn't quite ready to carry out, but that she is. The Yorktown may be more than a match for the scout ship, but who knows what else would be waiting....or even if they would be in time.

Before she even asks for a report, he starts to inform her of the situation. "Ma'am we have a Klingon Scoutship attacking an unknown vessel that is requesting our aid and expecting to be boarded soon. We are currently at Warp 6 heading straight for it with arrival time in just over 15 minutes." Rangin estimates it from Levethal's last comment and the time taken for Singh to arrive, but even so, he may be off as time has dragged and sped up so may times over the last few hours.

Kylah finds that the static which drowned out the Naradraen's message persists.

"Thank you, Mr. Rangin. I relieve you," the Captain says, taking her chair. "Any forward visual yet?"

"Still a few minutes away, ma'am," Roble says. "Mr. Rangin, please take Science II. Mr. Gral, thank you, you're relieved." The Tellarite leaves the Bridge.

"Tactical," the Captain says, and a pale blue gridlike display appears on the main viewscreen. The Yorktown, the alien ship, the Klingon scoutship, the nebula and the three closest stars are all shown. Rangin checks the scale and sees that the nebula is enormous - the entire Coridan star system would fit into it at least twenty times over.

"Tactical analysis, Mr. St. Croix," Singh says.

The Frenchwoman rises, turns towards the Captain and clasps her hands behind her back. "The Klingon scoutship is about a sixth our size, Captain. The E5s aren't used by the Imperial Klingon Fleet anymore but are still popular with traders, mercenaries and pirates, and remain in use in the planetary forces of some Klingon allies. Fast, heavily armed, tough and well-shielded; typical crew of 40. The other ship is of unknown origin but is about the same size as the scoutship. It appears to be configured as a light freighter roughly comparable to our Coleman class of cargo ships, lightly armed and with a crew of about 60. Both seem to have suffered some damage."

"Thank you, Ensign. Mr. Roble, give me a more intensive scan of both."

"Aye, Captain."

Singh leans forward. "Red Alert. Raise shields. Arm photon torpedoes." The Red Alert klaxon begins to sound throughout the ship, and the bulkhead Alert indicators blink crimson.

St. Croix turns back to her console and says moments later, "Shields raised, Captain. Photon torpedoes armed."

"Very well." The Captain turns in her chair to Kylah. "Any further contact with the ship under attack?"

Alarmed by the news that this older ship is larger than expected, Kylah looks at Singh and repeats what she told Velir. "No, sir. The last transmission indicated that they were being boarded, and then I lost contact. I have tried to reach them since to no avail."

"I stand relieved ma'am." Rangin steps aside to allow the Captain her chair before heading to the secondary Science console to back up Lt. Cmdr. Roble where he continues the analysis that had already been started.

Singh smiles. "That's 'ma'am,' or 'Captain,' if you please, Ens. Kylah. Why did you lose contact, can you tell? Damage to their transmitter? Jamming? Something else?"

At the Science II station, Rangin sees that the scoutship has disruptors characteristic of Klingon ships of that size and class in Starfleet records. It appears to be in poor repair and has serious hull damage; he notes 26 Klingon lifesigns aboard. It is moving slowly and continuing to fire on the other ship, which is even more extensively damaged and is losing atmosphere and debris from some compartments. There are 39 lifesigns aboard. His scan is clouded by energy distortions from the disruptor fire, but the lifesigns are mammalian and bipedal.

As Rangin's scan continues, he sees that the second ship has now come to a full stop relative to its foe.

Kylah flushes and nods. "I am sorry, yes, Captain. I..." She looks back at her panel and does her best to clear up the signal. "...I think it is being jammed. The voice was overtaken by static, and I cannot seem to get through. If the transmission had been cut off on its own, or had been destroyed, I believe I would hear only silence."

The klaxons open Nia's eyes and she takes a second or two to register that this is not a bad nightmare. Cursing, she removes her mask with a yank and fumbles to turn off the respirator. When she sits up she sees Booker waking as well. "I have to get to the Bridge," she says, resting a hand on his arm just long enough to connect and feel his warm strength before jumping out of bed to dress herself. She knows he will have his battle station to get to as well.

Underwear, stockings, gold dress, boots... all on in under thirty seconds. She makes sure to pull at her drawer to grab her inhaler, just in case; not having had a full night of replenishment probably won't cause a problem but it's better to be safe than sorry. It's looped chain is pulled over her neck to hide beneath her collar.

No time for them to kiss each other goodbye, damn it. Not the way she wanted this evening to end--with a breathing crisis and now this. Hopefully not a portent for how this relationship goes. After a silent look at Booker, Nia heads to the Bridge and her Helm, tucking her hair back into its braid before changing from a jog to a run.

Reflexively, even before eyes are fully open, Collins is out of bed and getting dressed before the second klaxon sounds. She finishes dressing, pulls her hair back into its familiar ponytail, kisses Cooper, and runs for turbolift. "Bridge!" she tells it. When the lift doors open, she heads right for the secondary security console, because she sees St. Croix at the primary.

"Ma'am, I'm reading 26 Klingons on the Scoutship and 39 indeterminate lifeforms on the other. They do not appear to have boarded the ship, but it is coming to a stop. It also has hull breaches across the board."

Quickly Rangin passes the data on the ships to St. Croix's terminal. The data would be invaluable if she opens fire.

The Red Alert klaxon continues to blare from stem to stern of the heavy cruiser.

As Kylah checks the static's subspace profile, she sees that it is indeed the result of jamming. She is unable to break through. Judging by signal strength, amplitude cross-section and other elements, it is very likely to be coming from the Klingon ship. Reports of Red Alert readiness pour in via the comm system from belowdecks and she finds herself very busy acknowledging them all. One of the messages is from Lt. Thalen, who says, "Stay where you are, Mr. Kylah, unless you wish to be relieved. I'll be in the Comm Center if you need me."

Onn makes her way through the crowded corridors, catches a turbolift and soon arrives on the Bridge. She takes the Helm, followed shortly by Bennett, who takes Navigation. Bennett gives her a quick, encouraging smile and they both brief themselves from the Ship's Status displays on their consoles. Brooks and Leventhal leave for alternate duty assignments below.

Collins takes the Security II console and confirms what she's heard from Rangin.

Delaney sits down at the Engineering post, and Dr. T'Var at Life Sciences, and they bring themselves up to date.

St. Croix acknowledges the data Rangin shared.

Roble is able to put up a visual for the two ships. The Klingon ship is lean and ugly, all business, a dirty gray-green with black highlights. The alien ship - presumably the Naradraen - is more rounded, almost graceful, with an orange-tinted hull. Both have clearly been damaged. As you watch, the Klingon ship fires its forward disruptors, but the other ship's deflectors shrug it off and it returns fire.

The Science Officer checks sensors and adds to Rangin's report, "The Klingon ship does not have typical IKF markings. There is no match in our records for it. The alien ship also has an unusual drive system. Preliminary readings suggest a hadron-pulse system of some kind."

"Thank you, gentlemen," the Captain says, staring at the viewscreen. "Mr. Kylah, open a channel to the Klingon ship."

Kylah swallows and does as ordered. If successful, she will say, "Channel open, Captain."

Nia is calm and cool, though breathing a bit quickly, and looks from her panel to the viewscreen. As someone who's worked with all sorts of vessels from the inside out, she appreciates both the Klingon ship's stark, no-nonsense build and the Naradraen's more elegant form.

Doesn't look like the latter is in desperate shape, not yet, anyway; fortunately its deflectors are still active. But that's no warship and the crew may not be trained for an extended battle. Not against Klingons or... well, whoever's in that E5. A ship like that might've passed through several hands until it got to its current owners. Nia's willing to take short odds--or at least even money--on the likelihood of the inhabitants being some rogue thugs rather than Klingons.

Graham is impressed by Nia's speed reacting to the red alert: she's so fast and so focused he doesn't have a moment to ask if she's up to it after all that happened...

Something he in point of fact appreciates because while he is concerned he is pretty damn sure that is not a question Nia wants to hear from him at the moment...

And anyway he needs to respond as well.

Graham has an "oh shit" moment when he quickly checks to re-confirm his standing assignment in case of red alert and sees he's supposed to be at Security station II on the Bridge.

Catching up with Nia is impossible as he has to dash to his quarters to gear up in uniform, but he does his best to move every bit as quickly as she did and report to the Bridge.

He finds Collins already there and acknowledges her with a quick nod.

Collins returns Graham's nod and turns to St. Croix. "Ensign, you are relieved." If St. Croix salutes, Collins returns it. She steps sideways to Security Station I to make room for Graham at Station II

A glimpse of Booker entering the Bridge almost makes Nia smile, but she only does with her eyes, briefly, before double-checking the status from Science. 26 Klingons? Well, I lost that bet, good thing there weren't real credits on the line. She smirks ruefully at herself and makes a mental note to pass along the information to her fellow Helmsmen aboard this and other Fed ships--that the E5s aren't just hand-me-downs passed along to Klingon allies, but in fact there are still Klingon crews in charge of some of them.

Then again, if we end up engaging them, my guess is there'll be one less to worry about. Her gaze lifts slightly to catch Booker again. It's certainly not the first time she's spent a night with someone only to serve with them hours later. But a Red Alert situation only moments after being in each other's arms? Yeah, this is a new one. She's not sure she likes it, either. Naturally she doubts she or Booker will be distracted; they're professionals. Still... there's a new sense of protectiveness toward him.

Look, you have to keep the whole crew safe, right? As long as you do your job, he'll be protected too. Nia returns her laser-like focus to shift among her panel, the nav panel, and the viewscreen, in that order. Any order from Singh or change in their situation and she'll be ready.

Collins keeps the E5 in her sights, ready to fire on the Captain's command. "Phasers and photon torpedoes armed and ready, Ma'am."

Graham hasn't had much to do beside check his console (as he would do anytime he came on duty, just more expeditiously under red alert conditions). He realizes that he's see both Collins and Nia - the latter casts a glance quick way and he responds with a quick, almost imperceptible nod - in terrible dire straits, but both seem ready to rock and roll at the moment. As does Bennett, seated next to Nia, which he still - for good reasons, bad reasons, or none at all - he still finds a little awkward.

Kylah is on station and seems completely composed, which gives him a moment of happiness.

It seems like - he's not sure, and doesn't want to know if it's true - but Rangin may have just yielded the big chair. Well, he can go below an run some experiments and let the bridge crew get to business, he thinks with relief.

There are no salutes in Starfleet.

St. Croix nods at Collins's order and leaves the Bridge. Graham takes up his post.

Singh says, a little sharply, "I didn't order phasers armed, Mr. Collins. Take them offline, please." Then she silences the klaxon, hits the white comm button on her chair arm and says, "Klingon vessel, this is the USS Yorktown. We are responding to a distress call and intend to assist the ship you are attacking. Cease fire, break off at once and return to Klingon space, or we will fire upon you. This is your only warning. Acknowledge."

There is no immediate reply.

Collins does as the Captain says, albeit reluctantly.