Two Heads, Two Asses

Posted on Sun Dec 4th, 2022 @ 3:21pm by Lieutenant Commander P’rel M.D & Lieutenant Alexis Ryan

Mission: Scylla and Charybdis
Location: USS Avalon Science Labs
Timeline: During/After Deckers.
1415 words - 2.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Having recovered somewhat from her sudden bout of nausea, albeit still with a headache and very unsettling sense that she was being watched, P’rel had been working on the auxiliary console adjacent to Lieutenant Ryan. The pair had exchanged few words, each deep in their respective tasks. They were close, very close, to uncovering what was going on there. Someone had certainly survived, and there was enough to make both officers believe that they could still be alive somewhere, somehow, though the specifics of the same had eluded them both. P’rel’s helmet comm unit chirped, and she opened her HUD to see that Petty Officer Saghir had relayed Athena’s visual sensors to her. A Romulan shuttle was inbound, most probably with a boarding party. “Lieutenant, our time may soon be cut short” she relayed, using optical commands to close the HUD. “What are your current thoughts regarding our apparent survivors?” She enquired.

Deep in the throes of several overlapping tasks, Alex glanced up at her main monitor and then switched her attention to the second display to her left as she addressed P'rel's query as more of an aside issue than the one that currently monopolised her attention. "I think they are exceptionally good at hiding," she pointed out, somewhat unnecessarily. As much as she'd weighed in during the initial examination of mounting evidence, Ryan had eventually been content to let the Intel Officer take over the task of extrapolating likely scenarios from the digital evidence they'd uncovered. Her attention, Kane's final orders ringing in her ears, had invariably been drawn to a rather pragmatic observation of her main priority; extracting as much from the Avalon's memory cores as she could feasibly store and transfer. Integrating her encryption algorithms had met with the same aberrant security bypass protocols that had been dogging them the entire time, to such a degree that Alexis had eventually determined that it was this workstation specifically that seemed to have merited someone's personal touch. A quick scan of the crew manifest had made it a much easier task to narrow that down.

Anthea Mariatis.

The name meant nothing unless you read system analyst journals for a hobby, which Alex didn't quite qualify for despite adding to her professional library on a fairly regular basis. Mariatis was one of Starfleet's bright stars, a theoretical genius who had likely written half of the Avalon's operational code and consulted on ways to improve the other half. Idiosyncrasies around her workspace seemed on par with Ryan's expectations; by all accounts, the other woman was an unusual sort and utterly inclined to march to the beat of her own drum when she deemed it necessary. Alex had always admired the sheer elegance of Mariatis' work but was less of a fan of her track record with unorthodox methods.

She'd certainly made trying to get her workstation to do anything particularly irritating.

"There's been no interference for the past..." Ryan paused to check. "...twenty-three minutes. If we stick with the working theory that the system is receiving secondary input then we're no closer to determining the point of origin, and no closer to figuring out why they haven't just sent us a more direct conversation starter."

Reopening her tricorder to make a fresh scan for any kind of anomalous readings in the area, P’rel turned to her colleague; “If we are indeed working on the assumption that there are survivors, then logic dictates they want to be found - logic further suggests that the only reason we have not received a conversation starter, as you say, is because they are unable to do so…”. No additional readings found, the tricorder was holstered once again. Her superiors ears attuned even through the EV gear, the Vulcan became aware of a short deep clunk behind a bulkhead, and noticeable drop in the thrum of the plasma flow. “Lieutenant….I believe the EPS grid has just been locked into a diagnostic cycle….preventing the ship from powering up….” There was absolutely no reason for any of the Athena away teams to have done this; indeed their primary goal was to recover the ship, if anything they would be desperately trying to maximise plasma flow not restrict it in a safety procedure. “Are you able to determine what, if any, systems were actively engaged on the EPS network prior to the diagnostic…?”. She had a feeling that, albeit not direct, someone had given them a conversation starter of sorts.

Every interruption to her primary focus threatened to split Alex's head in two. In the advent of potential survivors, there was no argument that determining the best way to assist them became an immediate priority, but Ryan had seen enough of what her extraction efforts had retrieved already to know that there were going to be a lot of ruffled feathers for Kane to deal with if they didn't salvage the data that had been years in the making. Pausing once again to redivert her attention, she pulled up the information the Vulcan had specified on the secondary monitor to her right and then spun the display P'rel's way for her own interpretation. Almost immediately, the Science Chief returned to her previous focus.

"Sabotaging our efforts to move doesn't exactly sound like a plea for help," she muttered, eyes flicking between the main display and her tricorder readouts. "Unless moving is problematic. If I'm correct, we're dealing with at least one crew member who will have a decent idea of what happened to Avalon and if she doesn't want the ship to go anywhere, I'm inclined to trust her judgement."

Several seconds of silence were over-burdened with expectation. With a brief glance sideways, Alex sighed and played her hand.

"Starfleet had the systems architect on board. At first glance, I'd say they put her in charge of running the entire sensor evaluation. This would have been her work station."

“Though one would have assumed-“ P’rel began, about to consider verbally why clearer instructions had indeed not been left by said architect, when a sudden and sharp pitch to the deck cracked its way through the hull. Though relatively minor, the Vulcan did have to briefly shift her feet to remain stable. “A non explosive hull impact” she reported to Alex, having not heard any of the prerequisite pops and bangs for a weapons explosion.

Eyes turned towards the door, giving the impression that she anticipated some sort of confirmation to come bursting through at any moment, Ryan voiced the conclusion evidently shared by both women. "Our Romulan contingent." Turning back to her console, the Science Chief's fingers tapped frantically at the data pad. "To be fair, they took longer than I expected." Turning to the secondary console, the Lieutenant's eyes darted back and forth between her entry-taps and the binary information rapidly cycling across the display screen. "A little hard to be a friendly knock on the door. Looks like we'll have some company after all."

Nodding once, P’rel hurried to the door and sealed it with a general security code. It wasn’t breach-proof by any means, but it would give them a minute or two at least when the Romulans came knocking. Pointing past the woman and at Ryan’s console, P’rel had an idea; “If there are survivors we would have detected them by now, unless we can not, and we are of the view that survivors exist. Logic suggests therefore, that for some reason, we cannot see that which is plainly there…” her voice trailed off as she gathered her thoughts and strode to Ryan’s side. “We need a way to attract them here. Since the Romulans are already likely on their way, it seems no waste to point them here anyway…”. Gently moving Ryan aside, P’rel momentarily considered it may be rude, but time was no longer on their side and results were required. She activated a ship wide nav-finder, every display across the entire ship’s corridor network would now show light pulses leading anyone to this room. A clear signal to get here. “Apologies, Lieutenant” P’rel offered, stepping back aside once again. “Might I suggest you recreate a subspace bubble of sorts, a clear signal to whomever arrives and it whatever fashion that we understand what they did….or, at least as far as we understand it….?”.