Ensign Roy Bancroft - Try Not to Get Any Conspiracy on the Carpet
Carter Schimpff
((Holodeck 2, Deck 2, USS Artemis))
Tho’Bi: ::softly spoken:: Assuming the countdown time is correct (beat) the drone in the forest was always going to blow (beat) no matter what we did (beat) ::heavy breath:: either we were the target (beat) or the forest was.
Jovenan: ::softly:: It’s okay, Ensign. Sometimes we have to do things that are beyond our ability to do, no matter how hard we try. It’s never your fault if you fail in face of an impossible task, you just have to keep trying. Can you tell what the countdown was for? Is there a relation to the signal?
Given that none of them were presently scattered across the holodeck like confetti at the galaxy’s most depressing parade, Roy was mostly prepared to admit that the countdown hadn't been for an explosion.
Mostly.
Aside from that, he was completely and totally lost. He decided – atypically – to keep his mouth shut and see what others might have to say on the subject.
Imril/Tho’Bi: Response
Jovenan: Thank you, Ensign. This is all…
Jovenan: So. Both the Kobyar and the Grunden have been in possession of outside technology. On both sides, the outside technology is identical and built from materials that are nominally easy to get hands on and therefore doesn’t reveal much of the constructor. Much of this technology sends a signal to something or someone who has a receiver in the system. This outside party is apparently capable of tracking said technology, and with the telescope, monitoring the system. They are either unaware or uncaring about the effects the technology may have on the soldiers in the field. And… just when a ceasefire is declared for the duration of our visit, the drones – which use said technology – attack locations in the Grunden side and near our locations, and another drone explodes near us, causing the war to resume.
Roy didn’t respond right away. His mind was too busy trying to rearrange the puzzle pieces into something less horrifying than the picture forming in front of him.
It had all seemed random at first. Chaotic. Ugly, yes – but war was always ugly. With new information, though, the shape of it was starting to change. He thought about the timing of the drone strike. About the underground facility. About the subtle transceiver pulse that liquified a soldier’s brain with the precision of a scalpel. About the fact that both sides seemed to be using the same tools without realizing it, like someone had been handing out free samples at a galactic arms expo.
None of that looked like chance. None of that looked like incompetence. It looked like orchestration.
This wasn’t chaos. It was choreography.
Bancroft: Commander, I think we may need to consider the possibility that this conflict between the Grunden and Kobyar is being managed – maybe even cultivated. Maybe war isn’t the side effect – maybe it’s the whole point.
Imril/Tho’Bi: Response
Jovenan: Regardless of the intention, there’s clearly a single group behind the interference with the societies here. They might be hiding their identities, but they might have made a mistake somewhere. Dirt on components, techniques used only by a single faction, DNA… ::pause:: We have to figure out who they are.
She was right. The universe never failed to leave fingerprints – it was just a matter of where to dust.
Roy stepped to one of the holo-consoles and summoned the neural scan of the sixth Grunden soldier. He adjusted the magnification until the shredded nerve pathways came into view, leaning in like the scan might whisper a confession if he looked hard enough.
He’d reviewed this damage before. It was gruesome. Familiar.
But there was something else – the way the particles had migrated. Something about their affinity. The way they’d latched onto the body’s plasma like barnacles on a hull…
He ran a cross-reference with xenomedical data from the Federation archives.
And then his eyebrows shot up.
The particles found in the soldiers’ blood had an almost identical binding profile to a known – banned – neurochemical agent. One designed to interfere with emotional regulation. Engineered to induce panic. Rage. Despair.
The last known deployment of the agent? Some stronghold called Port Royale.
Bancroft: Commander, Imril, Tho’Bi… I might have something. A thread for us to pull on.
Jovenan/Imril/Tho’Bi: Response
Roy projected the molecular profile onto an overhead display, then layered in the known agent’s structure beneath it.
Bancroft: This ::gesturing at the top display:: is an analysis of the particles found in the Grunden’s bloodstream. And this ::gesturing at the lower display:: is a neurochemical agent last seen in the Vale of Saoirse. ::a beat:: Used by the Orion Syndicate.
Jovenan/Imril/Tho’Bi: Response
Bancroft: I thought it might just be a coincidence too, at first, but have a look at this…
He punched in another command. The image shifted to the liver panel of the sixth Grunden soldier.
Bancroft: See this? Trace amounts of Lepiridizone. It’s a stabilizer – used to keep narcotics viable in non-native bloodstream environments. Not Federation standard – illegal, in fact. But it’s essentially standard issue for Syndicate narcotics trafficking.
Jovenan/Imril/Tho’Bi: Response
Roy let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
Bancroft: If I had to guess, they found this system a ripe peach for the picking. Two native powers, a war just advanced enough to be exploited – but not advanced enough to find out about it. Feed them black-market tech, fan the flames, and rake in the profits. Whatever the angle, it isn’t about who wins. It’s about making sure no one does.
Jovenan/Imril/Tho’Bi: Response
TAG/TBC
(OOC: The information about Port Royale/the Vale was taken directly from the 118 Wiki entry on Orions)
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Ensign Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A204205RB1