Ensign Imril - We Succeed Together In A Greater Whole!

[Chris Taylor]

(( Near the Western Wing, Klingon Prison Ruins, Wallace Forest ))

A strange silence followed the group as they got nearer the ruins. One of anticipation. Of something both very old and very new waiting just around the next few trees. Each swatch of sun-lit grass, more and more of them below the thinning canopy, was another step towards the first glimpse of ancient history.

Bergmen: What do you think they see from the air? Viewing the entire ruins must be captivating...

Ensign Bergmen pointed to the treetops and the alien birds that swooped through the air high above them. Flashes of color darted among and around darker ones in an ever-changing kaleidoscope of tone and hue. Were they males and females of the same species chasing each other as part of some mating display? Or different species altogether trying to run each other out of the area. No, the songs the birds were singing didn't sound all that aggressive. If they were different species, they might have symbiotically teamed up to form a larger flock against predators; the radically shifting color patterns of their intertwining flight keeping birds of prey and other enemies too confused to be effective.

At least some folks on the planet were getting along, if that was the case.

Sadar: The Griffin should be making runs above the ruins. We can ask Ensign Lyara once we reconvene.

Bergmen: Lieutenant? I assume you’ll connect with the Klingons and the archaeological team if they are already there, right? We could, with Imril here, evaluate the Klingon machinery and their methods of exploring and uncovering ruins in the meantime. What are your thoughts on this?

Sadar: ::whispers:: ‘DOCTOR’. ::normal volume:: No Ensign. Ensign Imril and I already ‘connected’ with the Klingons yesterday, and then this morning when the Griffin landed to board Archaeologist B’Equ. We have received all the necessary data on the Klingon’s equipment, and their digging methods are tried-and-tested methods. As I said yesterday evening, we will be dividing our efforts in the ruins.

Imril: I don't think anything good can come from looking over the Klingon’s equipment or methods. You wouldn't want one of them coming over and critiquing how you use or maintain your gear, would you? Unless they specifically ask for our help, I suggest we leave well enough alone and stick to our end of things.

Bergmen: response

Sadar: There’s little obstruction for us to clear in our area. Our part in this is research and logging, and if we find an uncovered route down into the basement layers, all the better.

The group turned a last selection of foliage, and the landscape changed entirely. Tall stone walls, their broken edges rounded from weathering, rose up from the earth like crooked tan monoliths.  These forms, and their fallen comrades, extended for a considerable distance in several directions.

The leafy vines which covered many surfaces like living veins, and the pockets of other greenery rooted to nearly every nook and cranny, obscured any immediate indication of architectural style. At least so far as Imril’s uneducated eye was concerned. A sense of history, and of a lingering pride, permeated the place. Of strength not entirely sapped by nature’s inexorable march.

Sadar: We’re here... The scale of this place...

Imril: ::Nodding in shared awe:: The First Empire must have had a lot of political dissidents.

Bergmen: response

Sadar: We’ll comb through our wing in a methodical fashion. Don’t separate. Scorpionmoles may be burrowing animals, but we have no assurances they don’t venture above ground. And if you locate a room with sub-par structural integrity, mark it on the map, but do not enter. The Griffin isn’t in a position to beam you out while it’s doing the echo survey.

Imril: Aye, Doctor. Should we begin with a walk along the outer wall? We can get a better feel for how big this part of the ruin is, and mark out the safest places to enter from.

Imril raised their tricorder and started scanning the walls, looking to catalogue the stability (or lack thereof) of the nearest wall sections. One of the birds, a blast of orange and gold feathers, took an interest in the device’s warbling. It closed in and flew a few circles around the team, while keeping well clear of the strange bipeds, and then departed. It lit down upon a nest built towards the top of one of the taller wall segments. It ruffled its wings and started a song which was clearly meant to echo the tricorder’s rhythmic trill.

Bergmen/ Sadar: Response

Imril: I wonder if our feathered friends can act as scorpionmole detectors?

Bergmen/ Sadar: Response

TAG/TBC
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Ensign Imril
Engineering Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240110I12