Memories of Madness
Posted on Sat Oct 27th, 2018 @ 11:50pm by Commodore Tyler Malbrooke & Lieutenant Commander Vaebn tr'Hwersuil
Edited on on Sun Oct 28th, 2018 @ 12:04am
1,938 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
Episode 4 - The Sum of Our Parts
Location: RRW Insight - Actual Location Classified
Timeline: MD002 1300 hrs
“Are we sure that this information is safe aboard a Federation starship?” Vaebn asked with an arched eyebrow. “Our agent is one of my best, and their loyalty and skill is unquestionable. I have no doubt regarding their ability,” she replied. “I understand Ambassador. I shall make the necessary arrangements, and prepare for their arrival.” “And please brother, be discreet. The envoy is to be treated to their rank, not the current job. Do not advertise. Starfleet believes something other than what you have been told.” “Of course Ambassador. Discretion is always the priority of the Insight. Rarely seen, and never heard.” “Many thanks Commander. And Vaebn, say hello to mother for me when you get home.” “I will Vrina, I will.” The channel closed, and Vaebn sat back in the chair with a deep breath. “Today just got much more complicated.”
May 29 2394 1300 hrs (relative time)
The last flash of memories was less intense than the previous times, much thanks to Hwianna and her interventions. The bridge was still suffused with the pale green running lights, and nothing else seemed to change much. Vaebn passed the Uhlan stationed at the lift doors, returning his salute with a nod of his head, and made his way to his chair. As he walked, he passed a few stations and glanced over the terminals, not really looking for anything specific until he passed the operations monitors. He leaned in over the lieutenant manning the station, “Sir?” he asked, “Do you see anything interesting lieutenant?” he queried. “Sir, I’m monitoring the spatial activity emanating from the Starfleet vessel we are tracking, observing particle movement around their navigational deflectors to gauge their speed and anticipate any course corrections or deviations based on previous navigation patterns, and monitoring subspace field harmonics as well as any communication bursts, although I am directing the communications bursts down to the intelligence labs.” He looked for another moment, “Good choice. Don’t let the information overload you and concentrate on the here and now. With that out of the way, what do you see?” Vaebn repeated. The lieutenant looked over the sensor fields and his subspace grids, running his eyes across all the screens, searching for what he was asked for; “I see,” he stammered slightly, “I’m sorry sir, I don’t see anything different.” Vaebn stood straight and put his hand on the young officers’ shoulder, “And you shouldn’t. There is nothing more to see, beyond what you are already looking for. Be confident in what you report, and be sure of yourself,” Vaebn told him, “You do excellent work, so stand by it.” Vaebn gripped his shoulder slightly before moving on to the chair and taking a seat.
Vaebn looked over the reports on the attached consoles, and tapped into the sensor data, adding a few algorithms of his own out of curiosity, and glanced over the running data as he listened to the background chatter from the rear consoles behind his chair. The intelligence and astrometrics consoles lined the walls behind him, through two floor to ceiling see through displays showing every vessel and astral body in the system and sector respectively. Every so often someone would walk to the display, casting a slight shadow over Vaebn, and make alterations to the displays with predicted changes or other information, all with constant conversation between the operators questioning and commenting to make sure nothing was missed. A few wore earpieces giving them direct communication with the lower decks where most of the data was processed, asking for clarifications or expanded information, which Vaebn heard as one-sided conversations, but gave a good idea of what was happening below. As he listened, his head felt heavy again, though not as severe as before; the monitors on the walls shifted and began showing astrometric telemetry from many years past. He looked down at the monitoring panels on his chair and saw himself looking at ship and fleet movements from back in the Dominion war, overlaying the current mapping. This flash wasn’t as intense but the memories were still vivid, and he needed to give his head a slight shake to refocus on the current task.
As the “memory” faded into the background, still there but less intrusive, he turned to his left and looked up at the ops officer, “Lieutenant, status of the Federation vessel we have been tracking.” “The ship is holding steady, 2 million kilometers to our port quarter, and travelling at warp 2. No course or status changes have been recorded.” “Thank you. Begin to scan the low end of the subspace communications bands. There should be a signal, Reman in origin, submasked in the communications chaff. Let me know as soon as you find it.” “Yes sir,” replied the officer, as Vaebn returned his attention to the sensor information on his console screen. Intuition told him that whatever was happening to him, there would be some kind of residual effect around the ship. He brushed off the thought as he let the scanning protocols take over; there would be more than enough time once the passenger was aboard to indulge in his curiosities.
30 minutes later, an alert flashed across the right arm console that he was waiting for. Immediately following that, came the voice of his ops officer, “Sir, that Reman embed signal just appeared in the communications chaff. What should I do with it?” “Send this encrypted response over the same wavelength,” he replied as he entered a few keystrokes on the console and sent it to the ops station terminal. “We should have an immediate response for decrypt that will contain our next course of action.” A few moments passed, silence filled the void until a slight tone broke through; “Sir, we have a response. Sending it to your terminal.” Vaebn received the missive and read it twice, partially out of interest, but mostly out of direct disbelief; “Helm, bring us to within 10,000 kilometers of the Starfleet vessel. As soon as we are abeam, hail them. Ops, maintain a trace on that signal and if the underlying rider disappears notify me immediately.” A chorus of “aye sir” resonated across the bridge as his crew enacted orders. Vaebn keyed his console, “All hands,” he announced, “set condition yellow across the ship.” A moment later his comm officer spoke up, “Hailing frequencies ready sir.” Vaebn sat up a bit and brushed his uniform front absent mindedly, “Open a channel.”
An indicator on the arm console lit, showing the active channel; “Attention Starfleet vessel Pioneer. This is the Romulan Warbird INSIGHT. We are here to retrieve our Ambassadorial Envoy. Please respond.”
"Warbird Insight this is the Pioneer Captain Tyler Malbrooke speaking. Please decloak your vessel in Federation space and allow for visual communication. There are some things to discuss as well as the transfer of your attache." Tyler leaned over onto the armrest of his chair. Romulans were a finicky bunch especially in this political climate. But Tyler knew that now the waiting game began.
"Agreed," Vaebn responded. He cut the channel direct, and turned to his tactical officer. "Remain at condition yellow, keep internal system dampeners online to keep their sensors baffled to our outer hull only. Keep the shields on ready alert, point defense systems active and drop our cloak on my mark." He turned to the OPS officer, "Change bridge lighting and screens to silent running, let them see nothing but the chair." And finally, he looked to the helm, "Keep us at static distance and position. Keep our escape vector spooled up and prepare coordinates beta-3-5 active until further notice." He turned to face the main view screen, "Decloak the ship, and open a visual channel."
The Insight decloaked of the rear starboard quarter of the Pioneer, and showed its true colors. The deep green of the hull pocked by the same pale green lighting as the interior, the heavily modified Valdore class warbird loomed large in the windows of the smaller Federation vessel. Twin sensor pods attached to the dorsal hull where the sweeping wings emerged gave it a hunched look, but the sharper extensions to the nose left no guesses to the underlying nature of the vessel. Vaebn sat center of the view screen, visible from the chest up, backlit by that pale green glow, and what appeared to be crew looking at black screens behind him. "Captain," he said with a nod of his head, "you have something you wish to discuss?"
"Indeed..." Tyler took a moment to weigh his words accordingly. However, all of this seemed rather irregular. "First may I have the pleasure of knowing who I am speaking with. I understand that the interactions between our two governments is no the best at the moment. However, all of this seems rather irregular. Typically a rendezvous such as this would occur in the zone, under escort."
"While you are correct that this is irregular, we cannot anticipate every occurrence, and sometimes must make do with what resources we have at hand." Vaebn stood from his chair and took a step toward the viewscreen; seeing this man in front of him, images flowed across his mind. A growing familiarity, the feeling that he knew this Captain from somewhere, or some-when else. He felt his mind slipping slightly into those other memories, but thankfully his purpose held in the here and now. For the moment, he held his composure and let the images flow without distraction. "However, in an effort to keep our diplomatic protocols intact, introductions are indeed appropriate. I am Commander Vaebn of the Romulan Navy."
"Commander allow me to welcome you to Federation space. I would also like to invite you to a diplomatic dinner aboard the Pioneer. You and your officers of course are invited. Perhaps this will be the forging of a new era of peace between our peoples." Tyler was fishing and this Vaebn most likely knew it. Tyler wanted to keep him there for as long as possible. He had to find out what the Romulans were up to.
"Whereas I have my doubts that a simple meeting between two ship Commanders would usher in a new era of peace, I accept your offer and suggest that perhaps it will ease tensions, in this region at the very least." Vaebn looked around the bridge in a pair of short glances, "I shall prepare a small retinue and transport to your vessel in three hours."
"Excellent signal when you are ready for transport. Pioneer out." Tyler spoke to the screen before it went blank. He then ordered his XO Makeba Brown to get ready for visitors, he also sent a warning to the Transporter Room.
"Agreed..." Vaebn replied just before the channel went dead. He leaned back in the command chair and tented his fingers. He tried to keep his thoughts on the here and now, on what needed to be done. However, his thoughts kept drifting to another place, another ship, and the image of his own face in a Starfleet uniform.
A Joint Post By
Lieutenant Vaebn tr'Hwersuil
Chief Science Officer, USS Pioneer
Captain Tyler Malbrooke
Commanding Officer, USS Pioneer
RSS Feed