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ASR ORIGINS | ASR ORIGINS | ||
==ORIGINS] USS HOOD: "I've Got a Bad Feeling About This..."== | |||
===Posted by Scott Lusby (LCDR Gar Th'elenth)=== | |||
SD: 2260.271 | |||
MD: 2.0630 | |||
Setting: Officer's Mess, E-Deck, USS HOOD | |||
<<snip- from Andy's post, entitled "I Swear it's True">> | |||
"My buddy saw it." The ensign answered. "It's got these long hands, paws, | |||
I don't know what'd you call them. Anyway they're covered in these things | |||
that look like suction cups. They suck the salt right out of you and you're | |||
dead." | |||
"Rogers you are so gullible it's sad." His table mate said as he shook his | |||
head. | |||
"My buddy wouldn't lie." | |||
"Well I'll tell you one thing, if we run into one of those things it can | |||
suck my phaser." | |||
Jack tried his best not to spill his coffee as he chuckled at the response. | |||
The even funnier thing was he'd seen the report and new the ensign's story | |||
was more or less true. He shuddered at the thought as he took a seat at a | |||
table with the Chief Engineer. "Morning." | |||
"Good morning captain. A pleasant sleep?" | |||
"Pleasant enough." Jack lied. "How's things in engineering?" | |||
<<end snip>> | |||
Lieutenant Commander Gar Th'elenth put down his cup. "As well as can be | |||
expected; those Klingon devils gave us more of a beating than I care to | |||
admit," he grumbled. "But my teams have things squared away; everything's | |||
running to spec again," he said. Then, he shrugged, and added, "Well, | |||
almost everything." | |||
Now, Steele put his cup down and raised an eyebrow. "'Almost,' Commander?" | |||
Gar shook his head. "It's these new warp engines, Captain- they're so | |||
bleedin' new...they hardly underwent any meaningful testing before they | |||
slapped 'em on these ships, you know--" | |||
Steele cut his chief engineer off. "Wait a second- who have you been | |||
hanging around with? Since when do Andorians employ interjections like | |||
'bleedin' in their speech?" | |||
The blue-skinned engineer downed the remainder of his coffee. "When they | |||
run out of expletives in their native language, that's when," he quipped. | |||
After a brief pause, he continued. "I'm working on it, Captain. It's | |||
probably some tiny miscalculation in the intermix equation, or something in | |||
the harmonics that is making the port engines run closer to red-line than | |||
I'd like. No imminent danger...but if pushed too far, it could go bad in a | |||
hurry." | |||
Steele sipped his own coffee. "Keep me posted, Chief," he said, and left it | |||
at that. | |||
Gar glanced over at the two officers behind him who had been talking about | |||
the salt creature, and nodded. "You know," he said, "I heard that the crew | |||
of the new FARRAGUT was nearly wiped out by some mysterious cloud that | |||
drained them of their hemoglobin after enveloping them." He paused, then | |||
added, "Some stories, huh?" | |||
Steele smiled at his chief engineer. "Welcome to deep space," he said, | |||
draining his own cup. | |||
***** | |||
SD: 2.0941 | |||
Setting: CO's Office, Starbase 6 | |||
Vice Admiral Joseph Carstairs was completely exasperated. | |||
He leaned forward and, glaring at the officer on the screen, he lifted his | |||
arm up. "Do you see dese cuff braids? Dose make me a Vice Admiral, | |||
COMMANDER," he said, making sure sufficient emphasis was placed on the | |||
junior officer's rank to make his point. Combined with his thick Brooklyn | |||
accent, it was usually most intimidating. | |||
"Do I make myself clear, COMMANDER, or do I need tuh make another call to | |||
get them AND end yer career?" | |||
To his credit, the officer on the screen did not fluster easily; though he | |||
shuffled in his seat visibly, his face, unfortunately for Carstairs, did not | |||
waiver. [[[I AM sorry, Admiral,]]] he said, his tone taught and stiff, | |||
[[[but if you want that information on the Velorum Project, you'll have to | |||
get it some other way; my orders come from someone with more cuff braids | |||
than you.]]] | |||
"I'll do just that, Commander," Carstairs huffed. "Carstairs out." | |||
As the small viewscreen on his desk went black, the admiral leaned back in | |||
his chair and sighed heavily. "These people make me want to drink heavily," | |||
he mumbled, lifting a tablet off of his desk. | |||
The problem was, he didn't know WHO he could contact that would loose the | |||
information on Velorum for him; it was locked up under such tight security | |||
that no one seemed to even know who had jurisdiction over the project... | |||
He'd tried civilian channels first- the Department of Colonial Affairs, who | |||
at least SHOULD have had initial jurisdiction- but they knew nothing. Then | |||
he tried Star Fleet Intelligence, figuring if something odd or dangerous was | |||
uncovered, they may have classified everything; SFIA denied everything. | |||
They could be lying, of course...but somehow, he didn't think so. Not this | |||
time... | |||
Joe rocked slowly in his chair, and pondered this Velorum mess. HOOD was | |||
heading straight into that mess- they'd be there in a few days- and he had | |||
nothing to give them. | |||
If he were Jack Steele, he'd be pissed about now... | |||
***** | |||
MD: 2.1430 | |||
Setting: Main Conference Room, A-Deck, USS HOOD | |||
<<snip- from Andy's post, entitled "Briefing Continues">> | |||
"Any chance of cracking out the Alpha files.' The first officer asked. | |||
Jack nodded. "I've sent in the request but so far no specific responses." | |||
"Specific response?" | |||
"I get the impression that a number of the higher ups know something but | |||
officially they don't. I can't seem to narrow it down to a branch that even | |||
wants to admit to putting the classification on. Our fleet commander has | |||
jumped in with both feet. But for now we need to operate on the assumption | |||
that we're going to have to go in blind." | |||
"Hopefully the archeological team will be able to fill in the blanks." | |||
"If any of them still live." Gar added. They all hoped that members of the | |||
team had survived what ever disaster had struck. But after repeated hails | |||
since the initial distress call there had only been silence. | |||
<<end snip>> | |||
Gar pushed his blue lips together, and his antennae stood straight up on his | |||
head. He was concerned- very much so: the very fact that they had a | |||
distress call from the colony on Velorum, and have heard nothing since, gave | |||
him an icy-cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. On Andoria, bad news | |||
frequently came by way of snow or ice; he had a feeling the ice ball inside | |||
of his gullet was bearing similar news about the colony. | |||
"When will we arrive on scene?" he asked. | |||
"Three days," replied Hemux. He glanced at Steele. "We should be ready | |||
with a full rescue-and-recovery team when we get there- just in case." | |||
Steele nodded. "Make it happen," he said simply. "All departments, we've | |||
got three days to get ready- dismissed." | |||
As everyone got up from the briefing, there was a definite change in tone | |||
with regards to the crew's feelings towards Velorum. Before, it was a | |||
planet of great mystery, which naturally sparked visions of excitement and | |||
adventure; now, it had all the feel of a large graveyard, a tomb for a | |||
failed colony that maybe dug just a little too far. | |||
One question continued to eat away at Gar's senses: What exactly had the | |||
team unearthed? | |||
***** | |||
MD: 5.0900 | |||
Setting: Bridge, A-Deck, USS HOOD | |||
<<snip- from Brian's last post, entitled "You Know What This Means Right?">> | |||
"It's there. I'm picking up the dig site. No visuals due to the soupy | |||
atmosphere overhead. I think we'll have to beam down in any case because | |||
nothing at all is reading from that pyramid except hard stone." | |||
"Could the radiation from the suns be interfering with sensors?" | |||
"Don't believe so sir. Unless they have gone into the pyramid or some other | |||
underground shelter ...." she trailed off, not wishing to state the | |||
uncomfortably obvious conclusion. | |||
"Freakin' ghost planet," Merrick quipped. Steele shot his first officer a | |||
smirk. | |||
"Take along the usual suspects Sean. Get us some answers." | |||
<<end snip>> | |||
At that moment, Commander Gar stepped from the turbolift. "I'm ready, | |||
Commander," he said, approaching Merrick. "Never know what an engineer's | |||
eyes and ears- and antennae- might find," he said, shrugging." | |||
<<Brian/Andy?>> | |||
<<TIMELINE>> | |||
2.0630- Gar and Steele share some interesting tales over coffee. | |||
2.0941- Admiral Carstairs tried quite unsuccessfully, to wrest the Velorum | |||
Papers free from Star Fleet's grasp. | |||
2.1430- Gar has a bad feeling about the fate of the colonists as the | |||
briefing breaks up. | |||
5.0900- Gar volunteers for landing party duty. | |||
<<NRPG>> | |||
All- Sorry for the long silence- professional and familial demands kept me | |||
quiet for far too long. I think I've worked out a comfortable balance now, | |||
however, so I am hoping this means I am back for weekly posting. | |||
Andy/Brian- one wary Andorian reporting for landing party duty... | |||
Respectfully Submitted, | |||
- Scott Lusby | |||
/\ LCDR Gar Th'elenth | |||
Chief Engineer | |||
USS HOOD NCC-1703 | |||
AND | |||
/\ VADM Joseph Carstairs | |||
Commander, Starbase 6 | |||
ASR: ORIGINS |