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STARFLEET: ORIGINS
STARFLEET: ORIGINS
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Holding Down the Fort...More or Less==
===by Scott Lusby===
SD: 2261.362
MD: 2.1000
Setting: Bridge, A-Deck, USS HOOD
Lieutenant Commander Gar Th'elenth squirmed slightly in the conn. He had
not quite gotten used to the feel of the chair. Command he was comfortable
with...just not the chair.
At least that is what the Andorian warrior inside of him told him, anyway.
"Any contact?" he asked, more hopeful than a real inquiry.
The answer came back as expected. "No, Commander- none."
Gar sat there for a few moments. It had been a couple of hours now since
the Metrons delivered their sunny message, and in that time they hadn't done
much except take the Metrons at their word.
It was time to find out just how accurate that word was- Gar was tired of
waiting.
His antennae twitched in anticipation as he leaned forward in his chair. "I
think it's time we tried to swing the odds in our favor," he grumbled.
Then, the Andorian engineer turned to face the comm station. "Any idea what
it is that's blocking our signal, Ensign? Dampening field? Radiation?
Yoshi Tamura stuck his face into his scope once more, and after a few
seconds, pulled it away. "None that I can detect, Commander; near as I can
tell, our instruments just don't work."
"Diagnostics?"
"Tried that first, Commander," Tamura replied. Everything is showing
green."
Gar frowned at this. From an engineering standpoint, that shouldn't be the
case: if the instrumentation wasn't working, there should be all sorts of
warning lights and chirps and beeps emanating from the station. Sure,
something between the delivery of the information and the error relays could
have shorted...but for everything? The odds just don't work that way...
Gar's antennae twitched again. "Is it possible that it's not the
instrumentation being affected, but rather us? That there's some sort of
mental telepathy or mind control going on here that is making us BELIEVE
that communications aren't working?"
"I- us...Commander, that's a bit outside of my expertise--"
"I read your service jacket; I know you're more than a competent technician.
If you say that our instrumentation is in good working order, then it is.
Which means we need to find another possible solution...and I am running our
of other plausible ideas."
Yoshi nodded. "I suppose it's possible- I mean it sounds logical, anyway."
Gar nodded. "That's all I wanted to hear." He tapped a button on his
chair. "Bridge to Sick Bay."
The response was nearly automatic. [[[Sick Bay here- what can I do for you,
Commander?]]]
Gar glanced at Yoshi. "Apparently, ALL communications aren't affected- just
the ones that leave the ship," he said.
The, the Andorian turned back to his console. "Doctor, could you bring a
medkit and your tricorder up here? I want you to do a few brain scans."
There was a pause. [[[Brain scans?]]]
Gar's brow furrowed. "Did I stutter?"
Another pause. [[[No sir- on my way. Sick Bay out.]]]
Gar popped the switch again, closing the circuit, and leaned back in the
conn again.
He smiled as he glanced again at Yoshi. "I don't know if it'll work, but
it's better than just sitting around waiting for fate to decide whether we
live or die."
<<TIMELINE>>
MD 2.1000: While the Captain and most of the senior staff have their hands
full on the sphere, Gar looks for a way to re-establish contact with them
again.
<<NRPG>>
Good to be back. I didn't have much to contribute being stuck up on the
ship (I know I needed to be since I was AFK for so long)...but perhaps I
found a way to stir the pot a little.
Harry: used Yoshi; hope I didn't mess him up. Feel free to drop in if you
want, but I know you're not exactly in a posting place right now. But
Yoshi's the only other senior staff left aboard the ship, so Gar's going to
use him. I promise not to hurt him...much... ;)
Respectfully Submitted,
-- Scott Lusby
/\ LCDR Gar Th'elenth
Chief Engineer
USS HOOD NCC-1703
Sixth Fleet
STAR FLEET: ORIGINS
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: The Little Things You Find==
===by Steve Apple===
SD: 2261.363
MD: 2.1130
Scene: Sphere’s Surface
The landing party made their way to a slope with an outcropping of rocks that was at the base of a clearing.
“If we make for the rocks Captain we’ll have decent cover and the Gorn will have to move into the clearing to make an assault.” Gene Lowl said scanning the area for tactical advantage.
“I agree,” Merrick added picking up a few rocks the size of baseballs. “Our phasers are out, but at least the area provides some natural weapons.”
“Alright make your way into the rocks and set your men into defensive positions.” Steele ordered. “However, no one and I mean no one is to attack first at least not until we determine if the Gorn disrupters have been drained like our phasers.”
“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Corbett asked pushing his hat to the back of his head.
“Zade is going to use that antique you keep strapped to your leg to let them know we’re not push over’s.”
Corbett’s mouth opened in response, but Steele beat him to it. “Stow it doc, she’s the best shot we have and you need to focus your attention on a cure.”
“Give it up Texan,” Zade said sharply as she held out her hand.
Reluctantly Corbett pulled up his left trouser leg and retrieved his prize colt from its ankle holster and handed it to her.
“Don’t worry your precious toy will be safe.” She smiled knowing this was killing him.
“First my hat and now my pistol - soiled by Yankee hands. I just hope my great granddaddy is not turning over in his grave.” With as much grace as he could muster Corbett turned and headed up the rocky slope.
“We’re seriously not trusting our fate to his finding a cure are we.” Zade whispered to the captain.
“As scary as this sounds,” Steele responded as he watched Corbett make his way up the slope. “Right now he’s probably the only one who can figure this out.”
“We’re doomed,” Zade mumbled as she went to take up a defensive position.
Corbett made his way up the slope skirting past a couple of red shirts that had taken up defensive positions. It was bad enough he had to give up his pistol, but he had no idea how the hell he was even going to detect the virus let alone cure it now that his scanner and med-tricorder were out.
“Fraking Trill,” he mumbled to himself as he kicked at the ground. His foot caught against something dislodging some of the dirt from around it. Stooping he used the knife he packed in his kit to pull it from the ground. It was a thin small wooden tube maybe five or six inches in length and possibly two in diameter. Something about its shape and size bothered him. It was a nagging feeling at the back of his head that it should mean something.
“Find something good Doc,” One of the red shirts yelled over at him.
“Very much sar,” Corbett said smiling a toothy grin as its purpose finally dawned on him. “Quite possibly the one thing we desperately needed to thwart these Yankee Metron plan.”
“Unless it’s a fully charged phaser I seriously doubt that.” Zade interjected just to add insult to injury.
“Madam is it too much to ask that you keep your slug quiet.” Corbett shouted back “I dare say he shoul…”
“Let’s have it Stile, what has you so excited?” Steele interrupted trying to keep another fight at bay.
“This sar,” Corbett answered holding up the piece of wood.
“A hollow stick that’s what you’re hollering about…”
“I would have thought that centuries of parasitic piggybacking would have taught you civility” Corbett shot back. “But obviously I…”
“Stile!” Jack shouted.
Corbett turned toward the captain and smiled. “My apologies Captain Jack, this sar is the first step to answer my questions.”
“You want to explain a bit more as I’m not quite following your logic here.”
“You have to have logic to follow,” Zade added.
“Enough Lieutenant,” Steele grumbled.
Corbett looked over at Zade and frowned, but decided against baiting her. “This wooden tube is nothing by itself sar,” he said while using his knife to dig out his tricorder’s little view screen glass. “However, when you add this glass to the top of the tube, and Kiska I’ll need yours as well for the bottom. Well sar in a nut shell you get a primitive microscope. A tool I can use to try and discern just what in the hell kind of virus we are dealing with.”
“The Metrons did say everything we needed was on the planet.” Merrick said looking over at Kiska and smiling.
“Identification is the first stage for a cure.” Corbett smiled broadly. “Saxman and I can rig up crude plates to view blood samples under. From now on we shall have to do things the old fashion way.”
Respectfully Submitted,
Steve Apple
Stile Corbett, MD
CMO, USS HOOD NCC-1703
Sixth Fleet
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