Ensign Roy Bancroft - Remains to be Seen
Carter Schimpff
((Holodeck 2, Deck 2, USS Artemis))
Tho'Bi: Computer (beat) Prepare to upload memory from device.
Computer: standing by.
Tho'Bi: PADD (beat) Ensign Bancroft ::to Bancroft:: Serial Number?
Bancroft: XD - 416 - 312
Roy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering vaguely whether he’d be required to offer the computer a blood sample next.
Tho’Bi: ::to computer:: Confirm?
Computer: Awaiting access password.
The Andorian Engineer turned to the human Doctor.
Bancroft: ::eyeing Tho’Bi shiftily:: Er… ‘scans are just suggestions’.
Computer: Confirmed. Upload initiated (beat) (beat) Upload complete.
Jovenan: I’ve already uploaded all the data I gathered from the frontline. We also have some of the holo-images recorded by Lieutenant Bergmen.
Roy gave a nod of acknowledgment and tried to look like someone who knew what to do with holo-images – besides making them accidentally loop in reverse.
Imril: Computer, give us somewhere to work. Load program Imril Workshop 6.
The smooth walls of the holodeck shimmered and peeled away, replaced by a fully realized simulation of what looked like a high-end workshop. Roy blinked as the transformation settled – clean tables, specialized equipment, and just enough sterile ambiance to make you feel like science was imminent whether you were ready or not.
He trailed behind Imril, who moved with the comfort of someone used to conjuring labs from thin air. Jovenan, for her part, seemed to be silently cataloguing the setup – her eyes flitting across consoles and scanners like she was playing internal bingo with the equipment names. Roy glanced around, trying to do the same and mentally labeling things as either “familiar,” “probably important,” or “not touching that.”
Imril placed a kit on one of the tables and started unpacking something that looked like the remains of a toaster — scorched, boxy, and bristling with the kind of wiring that usually came with a safety lecture.
Imril: I have some physical evidence to share. I managed to salvage this from the lab. It was situated between a small tactical drone’s docking clamps. It’s a dedicated firewall device, presumably a standard Kobyar means of protecting the connected main computer. But the construction appears to borrow heavily from outdated Ferengi engineering.
Jovenan: That’s right, we did talk something about Ferengi design before my team left you. That’s evidence of outside influence, but not necessarily of outside interference. The Kobyar might have acquired the technology through valid channels.
Bancroft: I’ll leave the fine line between outside influence and outside interference to someone with more pips, but I can say this much: the tech Lieutenant Sadar, Ensign Cole, and I saw down in that underground facility didn’t look Grunden or Kobyar. Not even close. It was like stumbling into someone else’s toolbox entirely.
He gave a small shrug, as if to say, "your guess is as good as mine," before casually leaning against the least-threatening-looking workbench he could find.
Tho’Bi: ::nodding:: Same tech as the drone in the forest (beat) our drone was a little more complex ::points at the greenish box:: Ours had twenty sides. ::looks at Imril:: And yes ::nods again:: I agree (beat) Ferengi Tech ::tilts his head to one side:: adapted ::tilts head to the other side:: but ::looking at Imril:: definitely Ferengi (beat) ::points at damage:: Uh Oh. ::smiles::
Imril: The damage occurred shortly after I got it out of the drone, before the attack. The power supply didn’t agree with Scientist Richard’s examination techniques.
Bancroft was momentarily seized by a vivid mental image of Scientist Richards – whom he hadn’t met and thus resembled a vaguely disgruntled marshmallow in a lab coat – venting repressed rage with a series of enthusiastic mallet strikes. He was fairly sure this vision wasn’t accurate.
Jovenan: I believe we also studied the crystals and the software before leaving. Did our observations hold on to what you discovered later?
Imril: ::Nods towards Jovenan:: According to Commander Jovenan, all of the crystals used in the drones show markers of having been grown under low-gravity conditions. Including the crystals that were components in the main computers. Where Lt. Bergmen found a number of pre-Dominion code syntaxes and a code reference to a Starfleet encryption dynamic library dating back to the 23rd Century. I noted similarities to our own ODN designs in the hardware, specs older than I am but not that old.
Jovenan: I see. I’m only vaguely familiar with code libraries of that era. Am I correct that this kind of technology would be easily available to the Kobyar after they reached warp?
Tho’Bi: Erm… Yeah (beat) We erm… We saw a lot of tech ::talking to the surface of the workstation:: go (beat) in and out (beat) on Deep Space 3 ::looks up at Jovenan:: Ferengi Tech ::opens arms a little:: They deal with everyone (beat) that’s easy to get (beat) but ::drops hands onto workbench:: The Dynamic Library Code ::shakes head:: I don’t know ::shrugs:: Everything else is (beat) very easy to get (beat) ::looks at Imril::This Dynamic Library Code ::shakes head:: it’s oddly specific.
Roy wondered idly whether “oddly specific” might become the mission’s motto. That or “well, that’s strange.” He was fairly certain either one could be embroidered on a throw pillow and handed out at the debriefing.
Bancroft: ::looking between Tho’Bi and Imril:: I’m at a loss. Dynamic Library Code?
Imril: Response
Jovenan: Hmm. Major Oolwi, the Kobyar liaison, explained that the drones operate independently if they lose contact with a live operator. The drones my team encountered seemed to behave that way. Is it possible that the age of some of the technology introduced vulnerabilities?
Bancroft: If I may offer a theory on vulnerability, Commander: based on what we’ve seen so far, this whole system looks like a patchwork – different cultures, different eras, all duct-taped together into something functional. It reminds me, just a little, of the Pakleds and their Clumpships. ::holds up both hands, placating:: Not suggesting they’re involved, just… drawing a parallel. ::a beat:: It could explain the erratic behavior – tiny incompatibilities in the way subsystems talk to each other could be their own vulnerability.
As he spoke, Roy scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, trying to decide whether his analogy made him sound insightful or mildly sleep-deprived. Possibly both.
Tho’Bi: ::quieter and nodding:: The drone in the forest ::swallows:: behaved strangely (beat) as though ::shakes head:: executing (beat) multiple command protocols.
Roy gave a small, solemn nod in reply – not because he fully understood the implications, but because it seemed like the respectful thing to do after “multiple command protocols.”
Imril: Response
Jovenan: Okay. Imril, would you mind introducing the drone technology to Tho’Bi in further detail? I want both of you be full up on speed before we can start making further hypothesis.
Imril: Response
Tho’Bi: ::nods:: Aye, Aye.
Jovenan: Meanwhile, Doctor…
The shift in focus came gently, but Roy still straightened reflexively, as if someone had just asked whether he’d been paying attention in class. (He had. Probably.)
She took a few steps away from the engineers, and he followed, curious and maybe just a little too eager to be useful.
Jovenan: We should also study the Grunden technology. You and Tho’Bi might have more data, but my team also encountered some damaged Grunden vehicles in the old battlefield. That would provide an interesting comparison. We also found some, um, biological matter inside. Would it be possible to ask you to evaluate that part of the data before cleaning up and looking further into the technology?
Bancroft: ::smiling brightly:: Absolutely, ma’am. If there’s any evidence to be found in the, er… remains… or the technology it’s spread across, I’ll find it.
He said it with enthusiasm, but not so much that it sounded like he actively enjoyed poking around exploded corpses. Just enough that she’d feel confident assigning him more exploded corpses in the future.
Jovenan: Computer, replicate the destroyed Grunden vehicle as recorded in the folder Jovenan Lambda-Gamma-1.
Roy had been expecting a PADD. Maybe a neat little workstation. Possibly some soothing blue lighting to signal “discovery is happening.” What he got instead was a fully reconstituted battlefield casualty: a mangled Grunt, complete with the unmistakable signature of its now-former occupants.
He blinked. Several times.
True, blood and gore no longer threatened to introduce his breakfast to the floor – clinical rotations had toughened him up in that regard – but there was something about watching the result of a massacre be conjured from thin air that didn’t sit right. Maybe it was the casualness of it.
Or maybe it was the fact that, just a few hours ago, he’d been in a very real alternate version of this scene.
Bancroft: ::softly, to himself:: Oh, good. Not horrifying at all. ::clearing his throat, louder:: I’m on it, Commander. Computer – replicate an isolation suit, full forensic kit, and medical tricorder if you please.
The suit was overkill – everything here was holographic – but it’d keep him from contaminating the scene with errant mustache hairs. And, more importantly, it’d protect the fresh uniform he’d donned before arriving.
One torn, blood-stained duty uniform was quite enough for the day, thank you.
Imril/Tho’Bi: Response
Roy pulled on the isolation suit with the practiced ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times and hated every single one of them. Zip up the front, hood over the head, mask over mouth and nose – voila: sanitized, sealed, and vaguely suffocated.
He approached the Grunt wreckage slowly, resisting the urge to open his Tricorder just yet. There’d be time for scans. For now, he relied on something a bit older.
One of the lessons burned into his brain at Starfleet Medical had nothing to do with technology. It was the voice of one of his Professors, Doctor Wendt – a man who looked like he’d fought in the Eugenics Wars and won out of spite: All I’ve heard today is ‘the scans show this’ and ‘the test revealed that’. Rubbish! Don’t talk to me about readings until you’ve told me what you’ve seen. What you’ve heard. What you’ve felt and smelled. Tasting is discouraged.
Roy smiled faintly at the memory. Then he took a breath through the filter in his mask and got to work.
He took in the totality of the wrecked vehicle with his eyes first, trying to single out any visual clue he could find. His eyes found plenty out of the ordinary: charred metal, blood and tissue long separated from their unfortunate hosts, but nothing unusual.
Moving towards the open cockpit – the hatch lay twisted on the ground a meter or so away – Roy moved on to another sense: touch. He slid a gloved hand along the floorboard of what he took to be the front passenger compartment of the Grunt. Cool, dead, smooth metal.
Cold. Cold. Still cold — hot.
He froze.
Then moved his hand slowly back until – there. A patch of heat. Small, maybe a few centimeters wide. But very hot.
Bancroft: ::poking his head out of the cabin:: Commander Jovenan? How confident are you that the holographic recreation of this Grunt is absolutely accurate?
Jovenan: Response
Imril/Tho’Bi: Responses?
Bancroft: It’s just… there’s a hot spot here, on this floorboard. Small, no larger than a few centimeters in diameter. The rest of the vehicle is cold and dead, but this… isn’t. It seems out of place to me.
He hadn’t even arrived at any of the biological remains yet, which was frankly generous on the simulation’s part, he judged.
Jovenan: Response
Imril/Tho’Bi: Responses?
TAG/TBC
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Ensign Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A204205RB1