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[[Category:Bureau of Information]][[Category:Task Forces/Unit Portals]][[Category: | [[Category:Bureau of Information]][[Category:Task Forces/Unit Portals]][[Category:STAR FLEET: ORIGINS]][[Category:ORIGINS: USS Hood]] | ||
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FO, USS HOOD NCC-1703 | FO, USS HOOD NCC-1703 | ||
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 | |||
==[ORIGNS] USS HOOD: The First Discovery== | |||
===by Andy Catterick=== | |||
SD 2260.272 | |||
MD: 5.1300 | |||
Scene: Bridge, USS HOOD | |||
Captain’s Log supplemental, | |||
Commander Merrick and the Landing Party have just signaled they have successfully beamed down to the planet surface and are enroute to the dig site. As a precaution Sean decided to materialize one kilometer away in the hopes that should there be anything dangerous they will have time to react rather then dropping into the middle of things. If there is something nasty down there I hope the team’s personal tricorders are able to detect it but I’m far from convinced they will. Dr Corbett and Lieutenant Hemux spent the better part of the day scouring over sensor readings and beaming down a multitude of probes and test kits. Unfortunately we have not discovered a trace of where the archeological team has disappeared too, or what may have caused the initial panic. In the end it looks like the Mark One Eyeball will be the test that counts. Hopefully. | |||
As for the rest of us we’re using our time to conduct scans of this system. It is remarkable in its uniqueness and the science departments are all fighting each other for sensor time. At least they have something to do. This waiting for results may kill me. | |||
End log. | |||
Scene: Planet Surface | |||
Crewman Gene Lowl was like a kid on his birthday. This was his first Landing Party duty and it was everything he thought it would be. They were alone out in the middle of nowhere, scouting through a strange world trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle. And he was part of the team that would do it. As a security officer his primary function was scouting and defence but Commander Merrick had made it clear that his opinions and thoughts carried as much weight as the medical and science members of the team. He didn’t want to let the X/O down and he really wanted to be the one to discover something important first so he was doing his best to keep his eye on his tricorder and the terrain ahead. As if on cue his tricorder beeped and he quickly brought up the report. | |||
“Commander!” He said coming to a halt and turning back to look down the dry river bed. “I’m picking up three humanoid bodies 50 meters ahead. They’re given off readings I don’t really understand but it looks like their dead sir.” | |||
Two minutes later a crouching Dr. Corbett looked up at Sean. “It seems I have to concur with Mr. Lowl’s diagnosis. These poor bastards have been dead for several days.” | |||
“What killed them doctor?” Merrick asked. | |||
Stile rose from his crouch and snapped his tricorder closed. “I have no idea.” | |||
<<<NRPG>>> | |||
Hi gang, the short version: We had a good start, don’t let it die out now. POST! | |||
I hope to get another one out before Friday as I will be away from The 2nd through to the 15th. Not there will be anything that can’t wait but should there be some sort of crisis then Brian will provide the answers. J | |||
And in case I didn’t mention it: POST! | |||
Respectfully, | |||
Andy Catterick | |||
CAPT Jack Steele | |||
CO USS HOOD NCC1703 | |||
ASR ORIGINS | ASR ORIGINS |