[USS Charon] SD241104.05 || "Flying Blind" || Lt. Leon Athalla

U.S.S. Charon
Luna Class Starship

“Flying Blind – Part 1”
________________________________

“LIEUTENANT!”

 

A cold glass of water sunk its icy fangs into the warm skin of a peacefully slumbering Leon Athalla.  The pilot jerked upwards his heart pounding as adrenaline surged through his body.  Behind him stood Lt. Commander Hughes wearing an expression that could only mean one thing.  He was in trouble…again.

 

“LIEUTENANT, you were scheduled for maintenance duty at 0700 in the main shuttlebay!”

 

Wiping cold water from his dripping face and chest, Leon was beyond annoyed.  Belligerence was quickly approaching even if the officer was his superior.  He had no right to wake the ship’s best combat pilot in such a crude, undignified manner.

 

“I am well aware of the duty assignments Commander”, Athalla fired back despite lingering confusion and disorientation.  “I will report to my duties at the appointed time and I do not desire or require reminders from you!”

 

“Lieutenant it is 0930!”

 

Athalla squinted in the bright light to make out the chronometer on the far wall.  It couldn’t be.  He had…

 

A sheepish grin spread to his lips as he stood.  “I will return at once.  I came in to locate a padd and I must have dozed off by accident.  We have all been putting in the hours this week preparing for our next mission and resupplying…”

 

“Cut the bullshit lieutenant.  You are confined to quarters for the next three days when you are not on duty and you can pull some extra shifts since you will have additional free time.  I don’t know who your former superiors were, but I don’t tolerate slackers.  Hotshot pilot or not, you are going to clean yourself up and report for duty at once is that understood?”

 

“Should I report for duty first and then clean up or vice versa”, Athalla bluntly asked.

 

“Wise guy.  You just bought yourself seven days of confinement.  Want to try for the brig lieutenant?”

 

“No sir.”

 

“Then I suggest you learn to keep that mouth of yours shut.  Now get out of my sight before I decide to have you marinate in a brig cell for the next two weeks!”

 

Athalla saluted and made his way out of the pilot’s lounge.

 

He despised that man.  Lt. Commander Hughes had transferred aboard on Vulcan as interim deck officer.  He was in charge of maintaining the shuttlebay, shuttles, fighters, and to a degree the pilots.  Starfleet had made some suggestions to Captain Rehu for their current mission and Hughes was one of those suggestions.  Athalla hoped the man was temporary or else it was very likely there would be a brilliant display of fireworks in the very near future.

 

Sometime Later…

 

“Have we checked the manifests for those torpedoes”, Athalla muttered glancing at a padd surrounded by various deck crews.  The small number of fighters the Charon kept aboard were being prepped for combat given the deteriorating situation with the Romulan Empire.  Why he, a pilot, had been put in charge of routine maintenance was beyond him.  He blamed Hughes.  The man had had it out for him since his boots had touched the Charon’s decks.  One week out of spacedock and he already wanted to kill the man.

 

“No.  I thought you had checked them sir?”

 

Athalla rubbed his head.  “So we are in the process of loading dangerous weapons onto spacecraft and no one knows where the paperwork is?  Any approvals?  Manifests?  Heaven forbid we actually have an inventory sheet!  Do I have to do everything myself”, Athalla snapped.  “Not to mention the half dozen safety protocols that were just broken.”

 

“HEY YOU”, Leon shouted at a deck team working to load a rack of torpedoes into one of the fighters.  “Stop touching those torpedoes!  For all we know they could be filled with paint.  Everyone take five while I go sort out the paperwork issues in flight control.”

 

Leon shoved his padd under his arm and stormed off toward the flight operations booth.  “What are we paying these people for”, he muttered under his breath as he stormed across the newly repaired shuttlebay deck.  His anger had subsided some as he reached the booth to review computer records.  It wasn’t exactly their fault.  There were a lot of new faces on the flight deck since they had left Vulcan.  It would take some time for them to regain team cohesion.  Still he hoped they figured it out soon before they drove him insane with these silly, clerical distractions.

 

He sighed as he ran through cargo manifests looking for authorization paperwork and inventory files.  Athalla had been born to fly.  Performing administrative tasks and overseeing maintenance activities was not in his DNA.  He wanted to be out there among the stars, not cooped up searching for misfiled paperwork.

 

Athalla suddenly grabbed his forehead as a wave of dizziness washed over him.  It passed as quickly as it had arrived.  Perhaps he had been working or even drinking a touch too much the past few days.  He really needed to call it quits at four beers instead of eight.

 

Another wave of nausea and dizziness hit him causing the lieutenant to grab the console before him for support.  It was more intense this time.  He had no time to think about it when a shrill, recognizable voice stabbed him from behind.

 

“LIEUTENANT!”  “LIEUTENANT, you were scheduled for maintenance duty at 0700 in the main shuttlebay!”

 

Athalla turned to see Commander Hughes glaring at him for a second time today.  How had the man gotten up here so quietly?

 

“Seriously Commander?  We already had this conversation two hours ago?  What is it NOW sir? 

 

“Lieutenant it is 0930!”

 

“Excuse me, but it is 1321 hours sir.  Perhaps you should…”  Athalla stopped for a moment sensing something wasn’t quite right.  He felt oddly dizzy again.

 

“Cut the bullshit lieutenant.  You are confined to quarters for the next three days when you are not on duty and you can pull some extra shifts since you will have additional free time.  I don’t know who your former superiors were, but I don’t tolerate slackers.  Hotshot pilot or not, you are going to clean yourself up and report for duty at once is that understood?”

 

Was this déjà vu?  They were having the exact same conversation.  “Sir, is this some sort of joke?  I like a good prank as much as the next guy but…”

 

“Wise guy.  You just bought yourself seven days of confinement.  Want to try for the brig lieutenant?”

 

Athalla said nothing.

 

“Then I suggest you learn to keep that mouth of yours shut.  Now get out of my sight before I decide to have you marinate in a brig cell for the next two weeks!”

 

“Sir…perhaps..”  Suddenly, Commander Hughes disappeared before Athalla leaving the pilot alone in the flight control booth stunned and confused.

 

“What the hell?!”

 

The floor gently shook beneath his boots and then stopped.  Another wave of turbulence shook the deck this time with severe force causing the lieutenant to grab a nearby console for support.  Alarm klaxons rang out across the deck and shuttlebay.  His computer displays cleared and were replaced with condition red warning animations signaling the move to red alert.

 

“So much for inventory review”, the pilot muttered as another powerful burst of turbulence shook the ship.  What the hell was happening?  Why was there no word from the bridge?  Were they under attack?  And what of his ghostly encounter with Commander Hughes?  Even if it had been a hologram – someone would have had to put in a significant amount of time to pull off such a recreation and it wasn’t even that funny so why bother?

 

Again he felt sick.  What was happening to him?  Were these sensations a result of the alert?  He stumbled out of the control booth as the ship was rocked again by forces unknown.  Athalla barely caught the railing preventing him from being thrown over its edge to the bay floor far below.  He managed to make the lift and slowly lowered himself down as the ship seemed to hit frequent pockets of severe turbulence.  It felt as if the ship’s internal dampening systems were out of alignment or malfunctioning which would account for his reoccurring bouts of vertigo.  It wasn’t often the floor or walls spun for a veteran pilot like himself.

 

Reaching the shuttle deck, Athalla quickly made his way back to the fighters only to feel the deck beneath him seemingly disappear.  The lights suddenly failed and darkness swallowed everything in view.  Severe turbulence knocked the pilot to the floor as horrific g-forces clawed at everything on the deck that was not bolted down.  He couldn’t see it, but the air suddenly became a jumble of bodies, tools, machinery, computers, and equipment which eventually came crashing down everywhere across the flight deck.

 

Athalla tried to regain his footing despite the terrible shaking and engine noise that sounded as if it would tear the Charon apart.  Suddenly something hit Athalla in the chest with brutal force knocking the air from his lungs.  As he struggled for breath something large and heavy slammed into the lieutenant’s back.  Consciousness left the lieutenant leaving him motionless somewhere in the vast darkness of a chaotic flight deck.

 

________________________________

Lt. Leon Athalla

Combat Pilot, USS Charon

 

[USS Charon] SD 241104.05 || Subplot Log || "Anti-Matter of Time" || LtCmdr Landon Neyes, NPCs

=/\= Main Engineering, USS Charon =/\= 

Unlike many of the other little snippets of his life he could recall in a small 1000 word or so segment, Landon felt quite refreshed. The air on the ship had a sweet and new taste to it, and the faces of the crew seemed to perk up as he walked past. He'd have loved to believe it was because he was such a wonderfully cheerful person that his enthusiasm rubbed off on people like a plague, but he imagined it was more because they no longer had to work in a department operated under the astringent Mr. Lieutenant Nealson. It could have also been the cortical monitor attached at the base of his skull. It tended to lighten the mood.

As he strolled though the doors of Engineering he could hear a few people verbally sigh in relief. For all that Neyes was, he wasn't an unfair senior officer. The good Lieutenant however, wasn't exactly familiar with the term, "Diplomatic."

"Hello, my good people. Yes, I'm back from rehab. Get your giggles out now while you have permission, because once I get to work if I hear any of you snickering at me... and I WILL hear you... you'll be working overnight shifts so fast you'll wish I'd never set foot on the ship." He smiled pleasantly, careful to address each person individually as he spoke aloud. "But it's still lovely to be back. Missed you. Thank you for the reports, McKinley. They were much appreciated. You have excellent grammar." He made a clicking sound and pointed to Nealson. "You, in my office asap. Please."

Landon turned headfirst towards his office and had to strike a double take. He hadn't been paying complete attention, but it had looked for a split second like there were two people already in his office. Neyes, could only see through the clear glass of the door, but it had definitely sent a quick little chill up his spine. After a moment, he decided it was just his anti-stimulated brain recovering from massive injections of medications. It was bound to play a few trick on him.

Neyes and Nealson took seats in his office, and Landon quietly tapped a finger on the edge of his desk, trying to carefully handle his first personnel issue. They both sat in a sort of awkward silence for a few seconds. Nealson no doubt wondering why he was there, and Neyes trying his best to think of a way to handle it all with the finesse expected of someone in his position.

"Sir, I-"

Nealson was about to say something when Landon interrupted him outright. "So what's up, Lieutenant. How do you feel you did while I was gone?"

"Sir?" The look of stricken confusion on his face was almost painful to see. It was obvious he had expected to 

Landon knew that Nealson was almost perfectly logical in his execution of protocol and procedure, but he seemed to stumble at a disconnect between talking to people as peers and ordering them around. There had been at least three complaints about Nealson while Neyes had spent the last few days in Sickbay, and at least one of them asked to be transferred if Nealson was not removed. It was one of those personnel issues he'd always had problems dealing with as a senior officer. There was just too much temptation to order the Lieutenant under the bowels of the ship for a good lesson in humility, scrubbing the nasties out from inside the plasma conduits. The best solution, though, was probably to sit down and talk it out.

"I think we performed fairly well in your absence, Commander. The crew can be a little disorderly at times, but I think I managed to straighten most of them out." Nealson spoke with a commanding confidence. It seemed he really believed that the crew had worked well under him

"You know there were some issues with the team while I was gone. Many of them had to do with how you handled yourself."

"I don't understand."

"If you took the time to ask your crew how they were feeling you might find yourself in a better position to command them. These are people with needs, wants and breaking points. They don't want to feel like they're slaves, they want to feel like part of a team. Rightly so, I might add." Landon was being delicate with the man, knowing he could be defensive.

"I understand, sir." Nealson said.

Neyes raised an eyebrow quizzically. It couldn't be that simple. "You do."

"I do."

A little smirk of satisfaction crossed his lips. Landon didn't expect that the Lieutenant understood as well as they'd both like, but hopefully the introduction of the issue was a start, at the very least. "Well that was easy. Thank you Lieutenant. I want you to write a report on suggestions you have for personnel improvements based on your observations. Including those of yourself. I'll be in touch with you about it once I've had a chance to evaluate your perspective."

Nealson got up to leave, nodding in acknowledgment.

What happened immediately afterward nearly stopped Landon's heart. The Lieutenant rose from his chair, then strolled to the office door, but he also didn't. Another second Nealson was still sitting in the chair, talking like he had been a few minutes before. Landon could barely make out the sounds, but it was clear that something was terribly wrong. The words from the shade were distorted and non-linear, like they were coming through on the wrong comm band. A nauseating sensation came over Neyes as he pushed himself up and out of his chair. He could see echoes of people as they walked outside his office, like trailing ghosts that followed in their footsteps. The room felt like it was spinning, and Landon found himself staring at a physical world he hadn't experienced before.

"Nealson, stop!" He shouted.

Both Lieutenants looked up, but the one sitting in the chair seemed a little confused as he looked about the office for the source of the sound. Neyes could only figure that the echo couldn't see him. It was a leap to make assumptions without really knowing what was happening, but it was the best he could come up with under the circumstances.

"What do you see, Nealson?" Landon's muscles were clenched. He was worried that moving would upset whatever was happening around him.

"Sir? What do you mean? I see you. Your office." He looked confused.

Whatever was going on was clearly localized around Landon. His first instinct was that someone had planted some kind of device around him, or that he'd been drugged. This didn't feel like an intoxication though, and it was all too fluid. There wasn't any obvious sign of any subterfuge in his office; everything around him was as it was as when it was rebuilt. The spinning in his head was getting worse, though, and he could feel his sense of consciousness beginning to fade out. Soon he wouldn't be able to fight it off, so he had little other choice but to try to move.

Landon took a step and suddenly everything changed again.

Nealson vanished, the orientation of everything in the room had changed. In fact most everything looked like it had been thrown against the far wall, and there was a shrill pulsing sound coming from the Core. Someone cried out as the entirety of Main Engineering was engulfed in darkness, with the exception of the blue and reds of the warp core. A single console blinked near the warp diagnostic panel. A litany of things raced through his head, as the Engineer in him took hold. There was a disturbance in the local space around them. It was either just him, or it was everything. He didn't seem to be affected at all by it, but had instead been deposited into this... this instance.

"Report!" He shouted instinctively.

An Ensign coughed as she pushed herself up off the floor. Her shouting was labored, but she managed, "The core was successfully stabilized, the emergency shunts saved us, sir. Anti-Tetryon particles have still contaminated our Anti-Matter supply and have flooded the core. But we're still holding at 115% of normal anti-matter flow for top speed. It looks like Savant has been dumping power somehow in order to keep the core from extending past the emergency capacity and blowing us all to hell." She coughed again as she tried to bring a station back online, her hand pounding uselessly against the panel's broken glass.

Neyes hopped over a fallen console station and quickly made his way over to a fallen crewman. A small pool of blood was clearly visible on the floor under his temple, and it took Landon less than a moment to realize the man had been killed instantly. It was Nealson. Landon's brow creased a little, the frustration coming to the forefront of his mind. He didn't know what was happening.

The nausea suddenly returned, and Landon felt the same as he had the first time the strange reality shift had happened.

"Sir! Core pressure is rising again! It's at 118%!!! I can't- can't get the injector port to close!!" She screamed, the core's shrill hum had mutated into a painfully loud and monstrously twisted screech. It was the sound of inevitability.

Sure enough, just as Neyes closed his eyes to take in the last moments of life, he could hear the Kelbonite matrix around the core casing begin to crack and shatter as the containment fields bubbled and perforated. A single molecule of air is all it would take for the whole ship to erupt and vaporize. The core pulsed one last time and Neyes felt his skin warm just the slightest bit. After 750 years, he guessed dying in a massive explosion of atomic annihilation was just as good as a battle wound. He just wish he knew why.

Then it stopped.

Neyes once again found himself in a well-lit Engineering, as if someone had flicked a switch and everything returned to normal. He opened his eyes, a little annoyed that he'd been jerked around once again, but relieved to still be bound to all his atoms. Everyone was moving about normally, only this time a console nearby blared out some kind of warning. Landon quickly shot a look over to his office, and could see the same effects as before, only he wasn't there and Nealson had a sickened and panicked look on his face. Without thinking he got up from his crouching position outside his office, and ran over to a console. A quick readout of the sensors was all he needed...

"Looks like we passed through a field of Anti-Tetryon particles this morning, Commander. Our warp field has shifted slightly, we've been attempting to compensate-" A crewman said.

Oh for the love of all the damn shit in the storm this could not be happening. Time travel?! That's what Anti-Tetryons would do to his new subspace field design. He had discounted it as an option, since the particles were so rare outside of intense solar distortions. There was no reason for him to design the new warp drive to have to purge that kind of contamination, it would have only slowed him down, and the Captain needed that damned thing operational as quickly as possible. He fiercely rubbed at the bridge of his nose. 'THAT is why you don't rush me!!!!', he thought.

"NO!" Neyes shouted. "Open the Nacelle ports to 80% of full retraction and prepare to eject the core!"

The woman looked at the commander a little confused, but followed orders. She nodded and quickly carried out her instructions, but a worried sound creeped into her response as she worked her console. "Commander something's wrong. The core won't pre-eject. The antimatter injector port is frozen in its current state. Also, sir, the Anti-Tetryons have penetrated the warp field! It looks like they're leaking into the anti-matter supply along the bubble!"

'What?!" Landon gritted his teeth. That wasn't supposed to be possible. But he already knew what was coming. "Unlock the magnetic constrictors and begin venting whatever you can from the plasma network out the nacelle ports! We can't let the core pressure rise! Adjust the emergency collision grid to an inverted geometry and use it to enhance the structural integrity of the hull! This is going to hurt like hell!"

"Commander! If we open the ports at this speed it'll destabilize the warp field! We'll come to a dead stop!"

"Do it, Ensign!" Landon growled.

"Aye sir! Venting nacelle plasma and rerouting flow!"

Neyes tapped his comm-badge with one hand and furiously worked the core diagnostic panel with the other."

"Engineering to bridge! The core has been contaminated with Anti-Tetryon particles! The field is unsafe and we have to break it. Prepare to emergency deceleration!"

Neyes barely had time to finish the words when he was thrown from his standing location and tossed backwards across the pool-table, most Engineering quickly followed suit.

=/\= END LOG =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Landon Neyes

Chief Engineer

USS CHARON

NPCs

 

[USS Charon] SD241104.04 || Plot Log || "No Time for Time - Part 2"

U.S.S. Charon
“No Time for Time – Part 2”
________________________________

Lamont slowly opened his eyes.  For several moments he could see nothing.  Staring into the void he briefly wondered if he had survived.  Was this death?  It sure did not seem like heaven and yet did not as yet fit descriptions of hell.  He tried to move only to be hit by a sudden wave of electric pain that radiated down his arm.  So he was alive… with an injured, possibly broken arm.  His head throbbed, but from what he could not tell.  His ears were also ringing from recent events he could scarcely remember.  There was a message from engineering.  He remembered shouting something, horrific noise, a massive jolt, and then nothing.

 

Pushing himself upwards with his other arm, Lamont sat up coughing as he did so.  The bridge seemed to be filled with an invisible haze of acrid smoke.  The repugnant scent of burned insulation and wiring hung thick in the air.  The lights were off.  The only illumination came from several flickering computer terminals and the occasional shower of electrical sparks from unseen damage.

 

After several moments of shaking off his confusion and pain his eyes adjusted to the near total blackness around him.  Reaching out he found he was against the wall housing the ship’s main viewer.  How he had gotten here was unclear.  Had he been thrown here?  He attempted to stand and despite several bruises and soreness found his legs mostly intact.  Fumbling through the darkness, Lamont made his way toward the captain’s chair finally finding it.  His hands sought out the emergency kit beneath it and within moments he had a light which he quickly switched on.

 

He almost wished he hadn’t.  The bridge crew lay unmoving tossed about the bridge like dolls in a playhouse that had been kicked over by an angry child.  Moving toward the helm officer she had managed to retain her place as had the operations officer.  Lamont gently shook the officer and to his relief she came around.

 

“Are you alright ensign”, he asked.

 

“I..I think so”, she answered with a confused, uncertain tone.

 

“Give yourself a moment.”

 

Moving on Lamont checked on the ops officer who was bleeding from a cut on his head, but otherwise appeared to be in fair shape.  Ian then moved back to where he had found himself earlier.  Lieutenant Hawke was upright and shaking off the effects of whatever had happened to them.

 

“Lieutenant”, Lamont asked kneeling down, “you alright?”

 

“I have an awful headache like someone clubbed me…what happened?”

 

“I don’t know”, Lamont replied looking around.  “It looks like the ship may still be intact though given the ride I suspect there are many injured.  Can you move?”

 

“Yes sir…I believe so.”

 

Hawke stood and after a few moments upright seemed to be able to shake off the ill effects.

 

“No time for rest lieutenant.  I’ll see to the wounded.  For now, get what crew you can and see if you can determine our situation.  First priority should be life support and ship’s status.  We need to determine just how bad things are.  If we can get some light in here that would help as well.”

 

“Sir, you are the ranking officer.  The duty falls to you sir.”

 

Ian sighed.  “My commander pips have several layers of dust on them lieutenant.  You know the ship and its systems better than I.  Work with those who are able and let’s find out where we stand.  We must determine our status and assess damage.  We can discuss command protocol later.”

 

“Aye sir.”  The lieutenant moved off and quietly began issuing orders to able bodied crewmen.  The young man was holding up fairly well given the circumstances.  Lamont wondered how long that would last.  He had lived through combat and war on the bridge of a starship.  He had seen its horrors as a young lieutenant and later as a lieutenant commander and third officer.  He had given up that past life to pursue peace and yet even so he again found himself on a starship in a sea of risk, danger, and hardship.  It was as if his past had come back to haunt him…

 

With more bridge crew up and moving, Lamont assisted the injured until he spotted a body in a corner near the turbolift door at the front of the bridge.  Armed with only hand lamps, surveying the bridge was a time consuming process.  He instantly recognized the crewman as Counselor Dwellon.  Rushing over, Ian knelt down and carefully rolled the ensign onto her back.  She seemed to have some bruises and carpet burns on her face, but appeared otherwise intact.

 

“Counselor?  Counselor Dwellon?”  He waited for a response.

 

[ To Be Continued… ]

 

________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont
Diplomatic Advisor

 

Ensign Vae Dwellon

Chief Counselor

 

Lt. Garrett Hawke (NPC)

Delta Shift Duty Officer

[USS Charon] SD241104.03 || Plot Log || "No Time For Time"

U.S.S. Charon
“No Time for Time”
________________________________

BRIDGE – USS Charon

A frown was on her face as she stepped into the lift and called for the Bridge, another bite of her apple was enjoyed before the lift came to a stop and she stepped out. She was able to see the bridge was also affected by the 'ghosts', as she walked clear through Ambassador Lamont, making her pause and shake her head. A blush in her cheeks forming.

 

Her red eyes skimming the bridge as she took another bite of her apple, moving to take her seat to the left of the current officer in Command, she stopped, seeing the seat already occupied by the Ambassador himself. Taking note that he was covered in what looked like a spilt coffee, and surrounded by officers righting themselves from the jolt the ship took.

 

" Pardon me Commander Lamont... But... Mind telling me what happened?" A brow raised as she looked down at him, assessing at the same time to see if he had burned himself when he split whatever it was he had over himself. Her look then searching the Bridge, making sure no one else was in need of medical attention.

 

Lamont paid the counselor no notice for he was unaware of her presence.  Time dilation effects throughout the ship were increasing due to a probable imbalance in the Charon’s recently repaired warp drive.  It wasn’t until several moments later that the ambassador discovered her sitting next to him seemingly appearing out of thin air.  The surprise caused him to jump sending the remainder of his hot coffee into his lap.  Cursing under his breath, Lamont tossed the nearly empty cup to the ground.

 

“Counselor this probably is not the best place to be just now”, Lamont stated flatly his torso still stinging from a second scalding splash of coffee.  A sudden hard jolt caused everyone on the bridge to grab a console.  Two crewmen were tossed to the deck as the Charon violently shook as time, space, and velocity viciously conspired against her.

 

Vae frowned as she looked over to the Commander just as he spilled the second part of his coffee out and threw the cup on the ground. A grimace on her face as she knew what that had caused underneath his tunic, and she was not about to rip open his tunic to try and treat him in the middle of the ships state.

 

"On the contrary my dear Commander Lamont... I believe the bridge just may be the best place to be at the moment... It looks as though the entire ship is experiencing these time shifts... I woke up twice this morning I think... " Shaking her head as it was rather bothersome.

 

"It seems as though the bridge is experiencing much less activity as opposed to some other parts of the ship."

 

“Where is engineering”, Lt. Hawke shouted over the din of roaring engines.

 

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t raise them or the captain.  Comms are offline”, shouted the communications officer.  “Wait, I have established text based communication with engineering.  One of the antimatter injectors has frozen open.  The abnormal flow is creating distortions within our warp field.  The fluctuating warp field is distorting subspace and space time creating the unusual effects being experienced throughout the ship. They are attempting to cut off the antimatter flow to stop the engines, but must cut the flow slowly. Time distortion effects are slowing efforts.  Will update on progress.  That’s it sir.  I seem to have lost them again.”

 

Hawke turned toward Lamont.  The young officer was clearly panicked, but was doing a decent job staying cool during this crisis.  Lamont on the other hand was anything but cool having suffered mild burns to his chest and below as a result of collateral coffee damage.

 

“Commander, I would be grateful for any advice you could offer sir.”

 

Lamont looked at the counselor and then back at the young lieutenant.  “First Lieutenant, never drink coffee on the bridge.  Second, have faith lieutenant in your crew lieutenant whatever the odds or adversity.  Helm is out, communications are disrupted, and time is obviously in flux– but you have to trust that engineering will quickly rectify the problem.  You have done everything that can be done.  Give them time to work.”

 

The lieutenant nervously nodded as several beads of sweat ran down his face.  Lamont noticed the young man was gripping the captain’s armrest with a death grip.  So were several others on the bridge.  Engineering would resolve the situation.  Soon.  Hopefully.

 

Lamont turned toward the counselor.  “Counselor…any advice?  I have no idea how to get coffee stains out of my uniform.”  Lamont flashed a weak smile with a poor attempt at humor.  It was inappropriate, but at least it made him feel better.  He hoped engineering could pull the plug on the engines soon.  He didn’t fancy floating through space at warp speeds for eternity in a coffee stained uniform.

 

Shaking her head she looked at his tunic then up to his face, "I would have to say that Engineering should be informed that in this day in age you would expect a Starship to at least have cup holders...." Another sigh as she thought again of the burns he sustained. " Just recycle the tunic and replicate a new one... However, in all seriousness, you should get those burns treated as soon as it is possible..." Just thinking of his torso being burned and scared like her own made her wince.

 

"Unfortunately, the best thing we can do is hope Engineering gets the ship tip top before it is ripped apart..." She was no tactical officer, but they were not really in any immediate danger other then the time distortions. Or so she hoped.  Unless the 'ghosts' started attacking people.

 

“Well you’ll have your work cut out for you assuming we survive this diversion”, Lamont stated quietly so as not to worry an already shaken bridge crew.  “People meeting themselves, ghosts, phantoms, echoes…oh yes I can imagine your schedule will be quite full for the foreseeable future.”

 

“Engi…ner..g to bri..ge.  We are..[static]..attempting..[static]..and..[static]..brace for emergency decelera…”

 

Lamont was unable to wait for the lieutenant to act as past experience and training suddenly activated without thought even after long years of disuse.

 

“SOUND COLLISION!  ALL HANDS BRACE FOR…”

 

Lamont’s voice was quickly washed away by a deafening howl.  Lights failed bathing the bridge in a sea of infinite black.  A roar of engines flooded the ship as her warp field abruptly fell apart exposing the hull to incredible speed while overloading her inertial dampening systems.  Centrifugal forces caused by system overloads and the sudden deceleration tossed man and machine about the ship like toys until finally the Charon emerged from warp into empty space, adrift and powerless, but still in one piece.

 

________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont
Diplomatic Advisor

 

Ensign Vae Dwellon

Chief Counselor

 

 

 

<<Ok, let’s getting something going until our fearless leader can catch his breath and beat me mercilessly for damaging the ship…again.  The Charon has experienced an unexpected and catastrophic failure of its engines.  Engineering was able to shutdown the warp drive but it resulted in massive deceleration effects.  Computers are down.  Power is sporadic if functional at all..(no lights).  Communications are completely out.  Life support is questionable.  Expect heavy injuries, lots of displaced equipment being tossed about, blocked halls, sealed bulkheads, loss of gravity, problems, issues, no turbolifts, and anything else you guys want to come up with.  Log in the moment or have some fun with the preceding warp field effects.  Encounter a ghostly appearance of yourself or others?  See yourself eat a bowl of cereal you just ate five minutes ago…sky’s the limit.  Backlog, front log, up or down log…lets just get some logs going again!  If anyone has any questions shoot me an email.  Let’s have some fun with this.  More logs to come from yours truly and the counselor.  – Tav>>

 

<<I need some logs to read…do it if only to help a fellow simmer take his mind off the $2000 he just spent on plumbing repairs.>>

 

 

 

[USS Charon] SD241104.03 || REPOST || Plot Log || "Houston We Have A Problem"

<<This is a repost in case anyone missed it the 1^st go around.  More to come…stay tuned.>>

U.S.S. Charon – NCC 80111-A
[ SUB-PLOT LOG ]

“Houston We Have A Problem…”
________________________________

Delta shift – otherwise known as the graveyard shift.  Federation starships never sleep, but the crew can set their chronometers to the changing of shifts and of senior officers.  Enjoyed and despised alike, Delta is a quiet shift where junior officers are allowed to oversee routine ship operations and duties while the senior staff slumbers.  That is all except one particular officer with a bad case of insomnia and too much on his mind.

 

 

==  Deck 2 - Personal Quarters  ==

Pulling on a Starfleet jacket, Ambassador Ian Lamont was reminded of his former days as third officer aboard the USS Lexington.  She was magnificent starship with the elegance of Starfleet’s golden era.  An Excelsior class, she was a workhorse of the fleet with decades of honorable service.  Despite her age she never failed to impress be it at diplomatic functions or in front of her enemies.  Far larger than the Charon, she had a certain grand majesty.  Such majesty was lost for a time as she was called into battle during the Second Dominion War.  Her character changed from a proud lady of the fleet to a ruthless killer to be feared on the field of battle.  Lamont hated walking the ship during that period of his life.  The ship’s character was drained away and replaced with something dark and malevolent.  The vibrant voices of life aboard the Lexington faded into hushed conversations and quiet whispers.

 

He was promoted during the crisis and placed into command.  As each day or the war drew to a close his hatred for conflict intensified.  Death, suffering, useless waste, devastation, and the horrors of war took their toll upon him as his ship was transformed from an instrument of peace and exploration into a blunt weapon of warfare.  Promoted to commander during the closing days of the conflict, Lamont had been close to forsaking his commission unable to lead men and women to their deaths.  As the war drew to a conclusion with the Dominion once again vanquished, Lamont decided to aid the efforts of peace in the diplomatic corps and leave his military service behind in the bloody past.

 

It had been years since he had worn his Starfleet uniform.  Wearing the symbol of the military only reminded him of his past, the war, and the part he had played in the carnage that had played out years earlier.  Yet, his ostentatious ambassadorial attire no longer seemed to fit him or his personality.  He was changing aboard this starship.  Into what he could not say, but it was slowly altering him from what he was into something else.  Despite the stigma he held toward his old military uniform it somehow seemed familiar.  His flashy trappings of a diplomat no longer suited him except when required.

 

Grabbing his coffee he headed toward the bridge.  He was having trouble sleeping again.  Perhaps he should see the doctor?  With so much on his mind it was no wonder he was having difficulty resting.  Universal politics were in shambles.  War with the Romulan Empire over recent events near Vulcan loomed like a dark storm on the horizon.  The Charon was being sent directly into the lion’s den to help shore up relations and worse he had been tasked with patching a horrifically fractured peace which was on the brink of crumbling.

 

He couldn’t bear to witness another war.  The last one and its horrors still haunted him.  He had to do everything in his power to prevent another needless conflict.

 

He entered an empty turbolift.  “Bridge”, he muttered as he took a sip of his coffee.

 

 

==  Main Bridge, USS Charon  ==

Lamont stepped onto the bridge for no specific reason.  He wanted an update on the Charon’s journey to Romulus.  It had become something of a ritual the past few days when he couldn’t sleep.   He could have asked the computer for status updates, but sitting on the bridge during the late shift brought back mixed memories from his past.  Some dark, some joyful – his memories and his previous military service helped focus him on the mission ahead.

 

With the captain and first officer gone, Lamont could simply watch operations and reflect on his younger days aboard the Lexington’s own bridge as third officer.  His late night visits to the bridge were relaxing helping him to take his mind off the troubles of the present.

 

Rounding the corner, Lamont was surprised to see a junior officer in command tonight.  Savant was usually at the conn though he guessed even artificial intelligence required time off on occasion.  She was probably off running complex simulations or something else Lamont could never hope to understand.  The young lieutenant upon seeing the ambassador quickly sprang to attention.

 

“Commander, sir!”

 

Lamont chuckled.  “At ease Lieutenant…?”

 

“Hawke sir.  Lt. Garrett Hawke.  What can I do for you sir?”

 

“Not much”, Lamont answered sipping his coffee.  “What’s our ETA to Romulus?”

 

“At present course and speed, seven days, fourteen hours.”

 

“Ah.  Mind if I have a seat?”

 

Hawke gave the ambassador an odd look.  “Sir, aren’t you Ian Lamont?  The diplomatic advisor?”

 

Ian nodded.

 

“If I may be so bold sir, why are you wearing a Starfleet uniform?  I’ve…”

 

“I am sure you have heard stories.  Put yourself at ease lieutenant.  I am not here to cause trouble.  For what it’s worth I was once in your shoes.  Fresh out of the academy with big goals and dreams I too once ran the bridge during the Delta shift.  Quite enjoyed it actually.  As for the uniform, its mine.  I transferred to the diplomatic corps years ago, but after pulling a few strings I was allowed to retain my status and rank as a commander in the fleet.  I often get to play liaison between diplomats and Starfleet brass as a condition of keeping my rank out of mothballs.”

 

“Oh.  I had no idea sir.  Is there something I can do for you?”

 

“May I have a seat”, Lamont asked.  “I find it relaxing to just sit back and watch at times.  Reminds me of my own days as a young lieutenant.”

 

The lieutenant was still unsure about the ambassador’s motives but conceded.  He offered Lamont a seat before retaking his own.

 

“You said you served before Ambassador?  Or is it commander?”

 

“How about Ian”, Lamont replied.  “I am not here in an official capacity lieutenant.  Please carry on.  I do not desire to interfere.”

 

The lieutenant appeared nervous addressing a superior in the familiar, but relented not wanting to offend or upset the ambassador whose temper was legendary. 

 

“You said you served Ian?”

 

“Yes.  It was several years ago.  I was posted to the USS Lexington about a year before the outbreak of the second Dominion War.  They quickly started handing out battlefield promotions when the fighting intensified and losses mounted.  As a result, I made commander fairly quickly, perhaps far sooner than I should have.  War is a chaotic business.  I realized after it was over I wanted to help build and restore the peace after a horrific and tragic war.  Joining the diplomatic corps seemed like the right thing to do as the war ended.  There was so much work to be done then repairing relationships ravaged by the harsh effects of conflict and the Lexington had lost her former charm stained by the spilled blood of war.  But I digress.  I’m sure you don’t want to hear me ramble on about the past.”

 

“Commander?  Do you think war with the Romulans will come?”

 

Ian stiffened at the question.  “I..I do not know Lieutenant.  It is my hope and my mission to prevent such a fate..  You and your generation need not see another bloody war.  The wounds from the last one have finally healed, but the scars will persists for many decades to come.  I am confident relations with the Romulans can be repaired.  The Federation and Romulan Empires have a history of mistrust, but the peace has been maintained for centuries.  I am confident current difficulties can be peacefully resolved.”

 

“I hope you are right sir.  I don’t understand why the Charon is being sent to Romulus.  I know the Captain’s past has something to do with our mission, but why send an exploration vessel?  Why not send a ship of the line?  Surely a heavy cruiser or battleship sends a stronger message?”

 

“Politics and diplomacy is a delicate game lieutenant.  Sending a warship would signify strength, but could also further fan the flames of tension.  Big guns are intimidating.  The Federation wants to display an olive branch of sorts while we conduct our mission.  Charon is a nice balance of research, speed, and power.  Our arrival should be subtle.  Sending in a warship makes too strong a statement.  We are looking to avoid a fight, not start one.  Someone upstairs thinks we’re perfect for the job.  Who are we to argue?”  Lamont had a several choice words for more than a few people upstairs, but those were his fights not the lieutenant’s.

 

“I suppose I have a lot to learn about such matters.  Still, the Romulans started this entire mess over Vulcan, why pander to them now?”

 

“Pander is a strong word lieutenant.  Think of it less in terms of black and white.  Diplomacy is almost entirely grey.  There is seldom a right or wrong answer and outcomes can appear in many different shades.  It’s a complex web of rules, etiquette, niceties, politics, misdirection, wit, charisma, guile, intuition, and skill.  A single word, gesture, or action at the wrong moment can ruin days or months of painstaking work.  People are as unstable as a star and to me just as interesting.  You can never quite predict if you’ll see a solar flare, shining brilliance, or even witness a supernova.  All you can do is observe, make calculated assumptions based upon experience and intuition, and work toward a desired goal or mission objective.  Its rather like poker only infinitely complex with astronomical stakes.

 

As for our current situation, a diplomat must balance both politics with cultural and ideological differences and attempt to translate between two opposing sides.  Militarily there are those who want to strike now on both sides.  That would precipitate a costly war.  Still others want to simply pacify the Romulans and forget about Vulcan with the assurance such a thing cannot happen again.  Some might call that weakness or cowardice.  My job is to find a middle ground avoiding war, but also voicing our concerns to the Romulans.  Obtaining concessions to satisfy the hawks in Starfleet will be difficult without provoking the Romulans into war.  Like I said, it’s a delicate and complex game.”

 

“I do not envy you sir.  That sounds like an impossible task given what I know of the situation.”

 

Lamont took a sip of his coffee.  “You have no idea lieutenant”, he quietly mused.  “You have no idea.”

 

 

“Lieutenant…sensors are detecting a sudden fluctuation in our warp field.”

 

Lamont’s eyes snapped to the OPS station from behind the rim of his coffee cup.

 

“What sort of fluctuations”, Hawke asked with an unusual calmness.

 

“I am detecting random fluctuations aft.  Engineering notified us earlier of some routine maintenance, but it did not include propulsion.”

 

“Do the fluctuations appear hazardous?”

 

“Not at this time.”

 

“Contact engineering and report the issue.  Have them investigate immediately.  Until then let’s play it safe.  Helm, reduce speed to warp two.  We’ll have to make it up once engineering identifies and resolves the problem.”

 

Hawke glanced over at the ambassador who seemed content to remain out of the way sipping a cup of coffee.  It didn’t take a psychologist to see that the ambassador was however intrigued by ongoing events.

 

“Lt. Finch, please contact the XO and inform her of the issue.  Helm, let’s go ahead and run…”  Hawke was interrupted mid sentence by the junior ops officer.

 

“Massive fluctuations now detected in our warp field!  Sir, the field is destabilizing!”

 

Hawke stood up from him chair.  “All engines, full stop!  Get engineering on the line.  Finch, belay calling the XO.  Go ahead and wake the captain.  She needs to know about this.  Someone in engineering is going to get a boot up their…

 

Suddenly the Charon lurched forward.  Lamont’s cup of coffee splashed across his face and uniform as Lt. Hawke was tossed from his feet backwards into the command chair.  The viewscreen exploded into a kaleidoscope of blinding light and color.  Time and space seemed to slow and voices were deep and distorted as an ear splitting whine filled the bridge.

 

“The warp field imbalance has created a localized temporal distortion!  We are experiencing fluctuating time dilation and compression effects as a result!”

 

“All engines emergency stop”, Hawke yelled over the ear piercing whine his voice several octaves deeper.

 

“No effect”, the helm officer replied in slow motion.  “She’s not answering to helm commands.”

 

“Go to manual control!”

 

The bridge appeared to be running in slow motion.  No doubt the rest of the ship was also affected.

 

“Someone…..get…me….engineering!”

 

Ian felt plastered to his chair drenched in coffee as distorted time and space warped reality around him.  Voices were distorted.  Sounds were garbled as if a part of some nightmarish dream.  Movement appeared impaired.  Some officers and crewmen appeared to be in two places at once only to have their past or future selves reappear and then disappear.

 

Lamont managed to get to the end of a brief thought cursing Starfleet for sending them out so quickly.  With the damage the Charon had sustained over Vulcan their time in dry dock had been painfully brief.

 

Hawke turned toward Lamont his eyes seeking reassurance and advice from a superior officer.

 

“I believe sounding general quarters is in order Lt. Hawke”, Lamont commented his voice distorted by the fluctuations in time. 

 

“Go to Red Alert”, the young lieutenant shouted from his chair.  He was clearly shaken, but holding up well under the stress given the circumstances.

 

While the helm appeared unresponsive the ship’s klaxons appeared to be in working order blaring their trademark whine that slowed and raced with various waves of distorted time passing through the Charon.

 

 

<<  And with that…TAG EVERYONE!  Let’s see some logs from various departments!  Unstable warp fields and twisted reality make for some potentially good logging!  I’m up for some JLs and if anyone can’t think of something to log about with the ship afflicted with bumps, jolts, and various bizarre time and space issues then email me!   >>

 

 

______________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont

Diplomatic Advisor, USS Charon

 

Lieutenant Garrett Hawke (NPC)

Delta Shift Officer in Command

 

Re: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL

The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated.  For anyone who wants to buy a home...have lots of money available.  Everything seems to break sooner or later, often at the same damn time!  :P

But I digress.  I'm active, just have my hands full atm.

-Tav

---

From: Thomas Sahm <tlsahm@gmail.com>
To: charon@ucip.org
Sent: Sat, April 2, 2011 2:18:15 AM
Subject: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL

I am gauging who is still active.  Respond to this email if you are.  There will be 2 weeks to respond- those who do not and have not announced an LOA to Chaya or myself will be purged at the end of the two weeks.  In the meantime I am changing some things with the sim.  I plan on making the sim a bit darker- My classes end in 4 weeks.  I will be back full time then- until then I will try to get this house in order.

-Thomas

Re: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL

You had me at "a bit darker"... --- On Sat, 4/2/11, Thomas Sahm <tlsahm@gmail.com> wrote: From: Thomas Sahm <tlsahm@gmail.com> Subject: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL To: charon@ucip.org Date: Saturday, April 2, 2011, 12:18 AM I am gauging who is still active.  Respond to this email if you are.  There will be 2 weeks to respond- those who do not and have not announced an LOA to Chaya or myself will be purged at the end of the two weeks.  In the meantime I am changing some things with the sim.  I plan on making the sim a bit darker- My classes end in 4 weeks.  I will be back full time then- until then I will try to get this house in order. -Thomas

Re: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL

I'm here as well. Life's been busy. Found out we're expecting. Due Nov. 7. So...yeah...

DK

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

---

From: Melissa Bowe <melissa.m.bowe@gmail.com>

Sender: owner-charon@ucip.org

Date: Sat, 2 Apr 2011 11:29:06 -0300

To: Ryan Powell<outphased2@hotmail.com>

Cc: <charon@ucip.org>

Subject: Re: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL

I am here, working on a JL with Tav to get things going. It is just a little slow because he is busy with RL as well.

 

Cat

On Sat, Apr 2, 2011 at 6:49 AM, Ryan Powell <outphased2@hotmail.com> wrote:

Here. I'm just sitting quietly in the corner, waiting for something to happen. :(

-Landon

---

Date: Sat, 2 Apr 2011 02:18:15 -0500
Subject: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL
From: tlsahm@gmail.com
To: charon@ucip.org

I am gauging who is still active.  Respond to this email if you are.  There will be 2 weeks to respond- those who do not and have not announced an LOA to Chaya or myself will be purged at the end of the two weeks.  In the meantime I am changing some things with the sim.  I plan on making the sim a bit darker- My classes end in 4 weeks.  I will be back full time then- until then I will try to get this house in order.

-Thomas

Re: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL

I am here, working on a JL with Tav to get things going. It is just a little slow because he is busy with RL as well.

 

Cat

On Sat, Apr 2, 2011 at 6:49 AM, Ryan Powell <outphased2@hotmail.com> wrote:

Here. I'm just sitting quietly in the corner, waiting for something to happen. :(

-Landon

---

Date: Sat, 2 Apr 2011 02:18:15 -0500
Subject: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL
From: tlsahm@gmail.com
To: charon@ucip.org

I am gauging who is still active.  Respond to this email if you are.  There will be 2 weeks to respond- those who do not and have not announced an LOA to Chaya or myself will be purged at the end of the two weeks.  In the meantime I am changing some things with the sim.  I plan on making the sim a bit darker- My classes end in 4 weeks.  I will be back full time then- until then I will try to get this house in order.

-Thomas

RE: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL

Here. I'm just sitting quietly in the corner, waiting for something to happen. :(

-Landon

---

Date: Sat, 2 Apr 2011 02:18:15 -0500
Subject: [USS Charon] ROLL CALL
From: tlsahm@gmail.com
To: charon@ucip.org

I am gauging who is still active.  Respond to this email if you are.  There will be 2 weeks to respond- those who do not and have not announced an LOA to Chaya or myself will be purged at the end of the two weeks.  In the meantime I am changing some things with the sim.  I plan on making the sim a bit darker- My classes end in 4 weeks.  I will be back full time then- until then I will try to get this house in order.

-Thomas

[USS Charon] ROLL CALL

I am gauging who is still active.  Respond to this email if you are.  There will be 2 weeks to respond- those who do not and have not announced an LOA to Chaya or myself will be purged at the end of the two weeks.  In the meantime I am changing some things with the sim.  I plan on making the sim a bit darker- My classes end in 4 weeks.  I will be back full time then- until then I will try to get this house in order.

-Thomas