Ensign Ollie Bergmen - It is just zeros and ones
CPT Arianus
(( the Tritorian wreckage – Ura Neteos III ))
The place was a mess. Ensign Bergmen Bergmen retrieved a flashlight from his belt pouch, illuminating the dark cargo hold with its beam of light. The scratches on the worn floor stood out vividly, forming a chaotic tapestry of marks that narrated the story of frantic looting by the locals. Scattered haphazardly throughout the space were several crates, their lids thrown open with force, leaving bits of stuffing strewn across the room. It was painfully obvious that whatever treasures these crates had once protected had long vanished, leaving only a heavy sense of desolation in their wake.
Savel: Whoever arrived before we did found the Tritorian's cargo to be worth the effort of completely removing it.
Ollie nodded and stepped into the darkness of the cargo hold, occasionally lit by damaged electrical circuits overhead. He searched for any sign of a computer or screen that might allow him to access the onboard systems. Where there was electricity, there was bound to be some control mechanism. And with the technological state of the inhabitants of this planet, the ensign was sure that they would not see anything of value in the integrated touch screen, let alone be able to remove it from the ship.
It was more likely that locals would see something diabolical in it and smash it if they found what he was looking for—unless the computer had already been damaged by the crash itself.
Dakora: See if you can find any traces of what might’ve been in those crates and any of the others. We need some idea of what the locals have got their hands on.
Bergmen: Aye, commander.
Silveira: Response
The commander's combadge activated, interrupting their search.
MacKenzie: =/\= MacKenzie to team leaders. We’ve picked up lifesigns of several locals in the jungle. We’re going to have to take another path to avoid them, so our arrival at the crash site will be delayed. If they’re in the jungle, it’s likely they’re at least aware of the crash. Avoid first contact at all costs. =/\=
Ollie glanced back at the commander, joining the others. Although it didn't change much, the ensign couldn't shake his curiosity about what this last communication would change and what would come next.
Dakora: Ok, you heard the Captain! Let’s get this sweep done as quickly as possible before any unwanted company arrives.
(( OOC: I will omit the following few lines from LtCmdr. Dakora sim and his tags for Sil/Savel as Ollie is out of earshot until the group reconvened. ))
Ensign Bergmen nodded firmly, determination etched on his face as he stepped into the dimly lit void of the cargo bay in the opposite direction from the commander and lieutenants. The air was thick with an unsettling silence, broken only by the faint hum of the ship's broken systems. He scanned the expansive space, his eyes adjusting to the shadows that clung to the crates and debris scattered haphazardly around him. Every rustle and echo heightened his senses, as he sought any clue or evidence of what this cursed ship might be hiding within its cold metal confines when he caught another flicker from the ceiling and saw additional flashes peeking out from behind a fallen pillar and the scattered debris of the ceiling panels. It seemed promising, so he decided to look into it.
Bergmen: ::in direction to rest of the team:: I think I found the ship mainframe.
He quickly scrambled forward, trying to lift the heavy pillar, but after a few moments, he realized it was hopeless. He shoved the ceiling panels aside and crawled beneath the pillar, maneuvering himself into the narrow space closer to what he believed was the ship's computer interface. Ollie tapped the screen in several spots, hoping to light it up, but the spiderweb of cracks across its surface made it clear that his attempts were futile. Yet with the last touch, the screen come to life, or what was left of it, judging by the rainbow of damaged colors around the cracks slowly melting into the interface itself.
oO Of course, it's in a language I don't understand. Oo
With limited visibility on the failing display, Ollie quickly realized that this task would not be easy. Struggling in the cramped space, he reached down to his waist pouch, his fingers fumbling as he searched for his tricorder. It was a tight fit, and every movement felt clumsy, amplifying his frustration. He grappled with the tools in his hand and moved them closer to the display so he could decode the information and access the ship's database. The tricorder's display flickered with lines of code as it struggled to establish a link between the Starfleet mainframe and the ship's computer interface. After what felt like an eternity, the code stabilized, revealing the basic folder structure. Ollie could only use one hand, which was also gripping the tricorder, and he winced as he had to twist his fingers into awkward positions to download the information. He yearned for more than just limited access; he envisioned a way to delve into the ship's computer core, extracting information not only from the touch interface but from the mainframe itself. However, he understood that to achieve his goal, he would need more than just what was at hand—he required additional time, more room to maneuver, and better tools. Still, even the tiny amount of data he managed to uncover could prove invaluable.
As the tricorder emitted a sharp beep, signaling that the download had been successfully completed, Bergmen leaned back against the sturdy pillar behind him, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath. He took a careful inventory of his surroundings, feeling the slight dampness of the air mixed with the faint smell of metal and old machinery. As he maneuvered to extricate himself from his cramped position, he caught his knee on a rough edge of the pillar, tearing the fabric of his uniform at the seams. The frayed material hung loose and ragged, but he brushed it off with a sense of satisfaction; the minor injury was a small price to pay for the data he had just acquired.
oO It's time to find the rest of the away team. Oo
He didn’t have to search for long.
Savel: The cargo bay appears secure, Commander, but the cargo itself has been removed. I'll start looking for any signs to confirm who may have taken it.
The Lieutenant's voice pulled Ollie back into the group, and the young ensign fell in line with the rest of the team.
Dakora: There’s human blood near that crawlspace hatch from after the crash. Somebody survived, but they seem to have been bleeding pretty badly.
Silveira: Response
Ollie settled in next to Lt. Silveira and withdrew his tricorder from beneath his cloak.
Bergman: I found a functional computer mainframe behind some debris and downloaded its local database. I have already analyzed some downloaded data; most are useless or corrupted, but their last cargo manifest was there.
The commander wiped his forehead with his forearm. The heat and humidity in the poorly ventilated cargo hold weighed heavily on everyone.
Dakora: Any chemical signature hits on what might’ve been in those crates?
The ensign glanced at the tricorder screen to verify and quickly navigated through the cargo manifest once again.
Bergmen: The manifest listed only medical supplies and instruments, such as dermal regenerators et cetra. Twenty crates only. Nothing that could be weaponized. ::turns to Savel:: Did your readings reveal anything different, Lieutenant?
Savel: Response
Silveira: Response?
The commander holstered his tricorder, placing his hands on his hips, deep in thought.
Dakora: Let’s try and move a little deeper into the ship. See if we can–
Dakora was interrupted mid-sentence by unmistakable sounds of movement outside the ship, near the base of the ramp. Someone was coming, and guessing to the commander's expression, it wasn't one friendly from the other away teams.
Ollie quickly hid his tricorder under a cloak and turned off his flashlight.
Dakora: Oh, Sket. Company. ::To the others, quietly.:: Options? Should we try to find some place to hide or try and escape deeper into the ship?
The ensign gripped the tricorder tightly and thought quickly. The cargo hold was vast but empty, offering only a few hiding spots among the debris. Deeper within the ship, there was at least some chance to find shelter to hide or another way to escape out of the ship.
Bergman: Deeper into the ship would be preferable. We can work with the ship's systems if needed. They don't. Plus, we can find and evacuate through another exit from the wreck.
Silveira/Savel: Response?
Commander Dakora took in the opinions shared and nodded decisively.
Dakora: Ok. Let’s do it.
Silveira/Savel: Response?
Ensign Bergman followed behind the rest of the group as they made their way to the cargo bay door and started to work on the panel to release the lock. The sound of footsteps coming from the ramp was soon accompanied by other noises, resembling voices more than anything else. Ollie anxiously stared at the code that was reprogramming the door control, willing it to move faster with his intense gaze, as if that would actually make a difference.
Bergmen: Just a bit more time. I’m so close to cracking it.
Dakora/Silveira/Savel: Response
The code stopped, and the diode under the panel changed its color. The lock loosened, and the door swung open just enough for them to see inside, revealing glimpses of the dimly lit corridor partially blocked by debris. The Ensign observed as the others quickly bumped into one of the door arms, silently sliding it aside to create just enough space for everyone to slip through to the other side. He stretched just behind the commander and held his breath until everyone had cleared to the other side of the door. Then, he sent another signal to the panel, resetting the automatic closure to prevent decompression. The arm of the opened door snapped into place and a somewhat louder click than Bergmen had anticipated echoed, confirming it was securely locked once again. The ensign's face twisted into a look of apology as he glanced at the commander.
Bergmen: Eh. Ups…
Dakora/Silveira/Savel: Response
TAGS/TBC
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Ensign Ollie Bergmen
Operations Officer
U.S.S. Artemis-A
A240009JC1