Anonymous

ORIGINS: USS Hood June 2010: Difference between revisions

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"Get the main sensor array on where they just were and find me something strange," he ordered.  He plopped down in the Captain's chair.  "By heaven, we're staying here until we find something to clue us as to where our people went!"
"Get the main sensor array on where they just were and find me something strange," he ordered.  He plopped down in the Captain's chair.  "By heaven, we're staying here until we find something to clue us as to where our people went!"
Respectfully Submitted,
Brian V. Mansur
LCDR Sean Merrick
FO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703
ASR ORIGINS
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Break Out the Ouiji Board==
===by Brian V. Mansur===
SD 2261.172
MD 2.1040
Scene: Bridge, USS HOOD
Sean Merrick tried not to look at the Captain's empty coffee mug holder.  More than anything, that hole in the chair symbolized the fact that Sean was on his own.  And after ten seconds as acting Captain he already felt like he was fraking things up.  He'd let his reaction at losing his people unnerve half the bridge crew and worst still he had badgered Hemux: the one person who was their best bet at figuring out what had happened. 
Well dammit, he'd just have to do better from here on out.  He'd start by not bothering Hemux again. 
He regarded the helmsman.  What was his name?  Wheelie?  Wheeler?  Why the hell didn't Starfleet put name tags on their uniforms anyway? 
"Helm."
Baker replied instantly, "Yes sir." 
"Review our logs please.  Did the ship move any when the Rutledge vanished?  Perhaps there was a gravitational wave.  Something to indicate a spacial disturbance." 
"I checked that," Hemux pipped up, obviously annoyed. 
"Right," Sean said, chagrined at failing to not piss off the Science Officer.  "Nothing then?"
"Nothing sir." 
Well at least Hemux was being formal and not borderline insubordinate, Sean thought.  Still, he had to do something.  "What have we eliminated then Hemux?  Let's at least lay out what we know didn't happen."
Hemux sighed and Sean could almost hear her counting to ten.  "It wasn't a subspace phenomenon like a dimensional rift or wormhole.  The ship wasn't transported out: no quantum fluctuations to indicate that.  One moment the ship was there, the next, poof!" 
"Have we checked for smoke and mirrors?" 
Hemux glared.
"I'm serious.  Is it possible the ship is still there but hiding?  Something that could be cloaking the ship.  Heat sigs.  Are our sensors even sensitive enough to measure that the ship's mass is suddenly not there?"
"No, no and no, sir." 
Sean supressed a groan of frustration.  "So then, let's throw a rock out there and see what happens.  Launch a probe please." 
Hemux went back to her board to execute the order, evidently happy to get her attention off her bothersome FO. 
About a minute later, telemetry started rolling across her board. 
Sean resisted the temptation to ask anything.  Instead, he punched up the readouts on his console.  It told him what he needed to know.  It was as if nothing special had ever been there.  Certain, it didn't seem that the RUTLEDGE had ever been there. 
"Hemux, do you see anything we might gain by staying in this spot?  I'd like to start a spherical search pattern here.  We may as well start investigating whatever else may be in the neighborhood."
Hemux merely shook her head.  She was clearly as upset and dismayed as he was.  This situation was miles beyond strange. 
An hour later and still nothing had turned up.  Their section of space had nothing of note, value or significance.  Sean was certain they were missing something, but was at complete loss as to what. 
The shift change came and he went back to his quarters.  What else could he do?  He needed to pray and recenter himself.  Then he'd send another update to Starfleet requesting that they be allowed to stick around for a while and see what turned up.  He'd ask for a week on site.  After that, well, if nothing turned up by then he figured it wouldn't make much difference what they did.  The drones might as well do the watching for them by that point. 
On stepping into his quarters, Sean took in a deep breath and stretched.  He wanted a drink but knew he shouldn't: if not for his need to maintain sobriety, then at least out of respect for Corbett.  He thought about a chocholate and immediately wanted to bang his head into a wall for the feelings *that* stray idea engendered.  Why the hell did the mind have to go down those roads anyway?
It was then he realized he smelled something odd.  It was ... sweet.  And familiar.  "What the HELL?" 
"Something wrong honey?" Jeri's voice came from the bedroom.
NPRG: Why do I get the feeling that smoking some mushrooms would actually give us more clarity as to what is going on here?