Ensign Talon Morda: Yep, together again
Eston Melton
((Jeffries Tube 127CC Nacelle One))
Despite their dust-free cleanliness, the Jefferies Tubes around the nacelles had the still, stale air of an underused space. At least the signage was perfectly clear and crisp labels fresh from--
An urgent pull on his shoe stopped him.
Michaels: ::urgently:: Morda. Stop right now. Do not go another centimeter forward.
Morda: Okay, ma’am. ::He inched a few centimeters backward, oblivious to the intermingling of imperial and Federation standard units::
Michaels: Tell me what you see.
Morda: ::Squinting uncertainly:: I see Jefferies Tube 127CC, Nacelle #1, and a vertical transition shaft two meters ahead.
Michaels: You do not see the faint pink glow? Perhaps Vulcan eyes and Kerelian eyes are sensitive to different frequency ranges. I see a glow forming two lines from the top of the Jeffries tube to the bottom. I can not see what is in the center of the path. Perhaps it is infra-red radiation from something microscopic. If that presumption is correct, it could be extraordinarily dangerous.
Morda: I think you’re right: we see things differently. But if there’s an infrared emission, I don’t think I feel any heat radiating.
Michaels: Let me get next to you. I want to try something.
Morda shifted left and Michaels sidled up right. He became twice as aware of the utility space’s tight confines, and the painful grate pattern on his knees.
Michaels: If this is what I think this is, it could function as the sharpest knife ever made. It could be like a blade just a few molecules wide along its edge.
Morda thought about the nanomolecular garrotes OSF had confiscated over the years. Once by him, from a private security group had been way over-equipped and beyond the spec for weapons ordinances. They’d been able to retrieve some of their gear on their outbound leg, but not the plainly lethal garrote.
Morda: I take your meaning, Lieutenant. Where does it start and end?
As if in response, the lieutenant doffed a glove and precisely moved it back and forth a few times in front of them. The fingertips and then the fingers seemed to spontaneously detach, leaving perfectly smooth material behind -- as if they hadn’t been one cohesive garment seconds before.
Michaels: Like a hot knife cutting through butter.
Morda: Absolutely lethal.
Michaels: That is what I thought might happen. Imagine what would have happened to you if you had crawled up to it.
Morda: Yeah. I got a nice haircut on shoreleave and this would’ve really messed it up.
Michaels: It is an ultrathin cable attached to our power systems siphoning energy away from the ship to... something. Somewhere. And, with a few million similar microscopic cables, strong enough to keep Khitomer from leaving without ripping itself apart. :: beat and a slight smile :: We seem to be caught in a spider's web with extraordinarily strong microscopic filaments. :: beat :: This looks like a job for Science.
Morda: Specifically targeted, too. If we had these kinds of filaments firing arbitrarily through the ship, we’d have more overt damage: injured crew, water storage leaks, fusion reactor failures, even the warp core and the whole plasma distribution system. They must be small enough not to trigger decompression alarms if they extend or originate outside the ship. I wonder: could they have stuck us with these pins and then put the squeeze on the ship to keep us from moving and damaging ourselves further? Where are these things anchored?
Michaels: Response
Two things clicked for Morda: “This looks like a job for Science,” Michaels had said. Which reminded him of the overheard comment about someone prepping for an EVA activity.
Morda: =/\= Ensign Morda to Lieutenant El'Heem. Sir, Lieutenant Michaels and I have discovered something that might pose a hazard to the planned EVA. =/\=
Michaels/El’Heem: Response
Tags/TBC