Lieutenant JG Amelia Semara - Plans in Plans

[Max]

(( USS Ouachita, Shuttlebay, Deck 2, USS Khitomer, En Route to Alpha Trionus II ))

Between suspect torpedoes, a suspect sort-of Sencha emitter / sensor, a diagram and logs for that device, and a pile of logs concerning the probable target, a picture was beginning to shape up.  The Ouachita hadn't just been retrofitted to be a machine to travel back in time, it had been reshaped into a temporal weapon.  A weapon of Tori's creation.

It remained to be seen just how sophisticated the weapon was.  Could a log of a test attached to a complicated program and no further experiment notes be what Amelia was looking for?  Could it be proof that the Ouachita was the source of the Khitomer's altered orders?

Semara: Could we use the schematics to simulate the output a' this emitter if we knew the program drivin' it? :: Showing the log :: I wanna know what this program's about. There ain't experiment notes. I wouldn't make any either, if I thought someone might go through my logs...

Michaels: Given enough time. Given thirty or forty years. :: beat :: Of course, letting us see this is a temporal violation...

Amelia's eyebrows raised and pinched together.  They were all well past temporal violations.  All that remained was to answer life's perennial question: what next?

Zerva: I would summarize that it would be indeed a violation, but we were told to look through the logs and this schematic was apart of the encrypted logs. So technically if anyone’s to blame it’s the XO for giving us permission ::smirks to them both and then says to Semera:: What if we simulate the output on the emitter in the Holodeck? Make a copy and use that as a safe space to try the transmitter out?

Semara: We ain't done nothin' yet.  May yet decide to destroy all this...

As she looked at the Ouachita, something told it was a bad idea to destroy anything before they fully understood the vessel and the significance of the day's events.  Amelia knew she was only just barely dodging thoughts of Tori her mind was throwing at her every few seconds.

Semara: :: A nod to Zerva :: It's a good idea.  It might help us understand how this device and their time travel work.

Michaels: Amelia. Ezra. There is something bothering me about this story. Perhaps if I talk it out... I will be quick. At least by my standards.

Zerva: Go on.

Now this Amelia had to hear.  She daren't speak, her eyes encouraging Lera to do precisely just what she proposed to do.

Michaels: Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. The trio of time travelers has been sent back to Khitomer to persuade us to help them kill a Tholian janitor who has mastered the Sheliak language in the short time since the battle at DS33. With minimal contact with the Sheliak, due to the differences in the environmental needs of the two species. ::beat:: In fact, killing all the Tholians is an easy matter that could be accomplished by anyone with minimal engineering knowledge, access and a spanner. Disable the environmental control system that keeps the Tholian quarters above 200 degrees, prevent it from being rapidly repaired, and in an hour or so, all the Tholians have "frozen" to death. Nothing but crystalline shards remain. And yet the future folks send a fragile, ancient by their standards, heavily armed Ouachita back in time to accomplish the task.

The thought of simply turning off environmental controls for the Tholians was a disturbing idea.  Apparently it was equally so even for the woman who proposed it, judging from the shambling clutter of muted feeling that accompanied Lera's frown.

Michaels: What am I missing? Other than getting them to Alpha Trionus II, why do they need us?

With a heavy question like that, Amelia felt like sitting, and a nearby crate seemed a perfectly fine place to plop down.

Semara: I ain't sure.  The answer might be access.  It ain't like a prison to let a random runabout show up and its crew to casually beam down.  :: Beat :: But I'm guessin' those torpedoes ain't for show. If travellin' through time is as rough as it looks, heavy ordinance without a purpose would be a liability.

Zerva: You raise a good point. If the warheads on the torpedos are strong enough, why not just use them on the POW camp without us? Why do we need to go there?

Michaels: Transportation is obviously part of the answer. They were not going anywhere in the Ouachita when we found them.

Amelia tucked one foot up next to her, and let out a long, slow breath as the ache in her hip stretched out a little.

Semara: Could be they just needed a workin' pair of warp nacelles to get there.  Or it could be they're hopin' we'll evacuate the Starfleet personnel before goin' through with their plan - couldn't do that with a runabout.  I don't think they're so far gone they would wanna kill their own... :: Beat :: Can't put it past 'em as a backup plan, though.

Amelia hoped evacuation was part of the murderous plan, but she couldn't say for sure.  Tori was hurting badly, that much was clear.  Under her angry armor, she was just a terrified girl lashing out, but a girl nevertheless.  Amelia understood a small piece of the chaos inside her daughter just a little when she stopped to think about it again.  Tori knew the price of a life - losing one, and taking one - only too well.  The wound of experiencing both too many times had left something deep inside of her: a festering growth in a place Tori was keeping safe and dark, lest someone see it.  Like Amelia.

Zerva: I would say the runabout in its beaten and battered state might not make it to the camp on its own. ::scratches his chin:: I agree. Something is amiss and we don’t have all the puzzle pieces.

Michaels: Someone mentioned that what they had in mind could be considered a war crime. Perhaps what they really want is for someone else to do the deed. Someone with the resources to finish the task if something else were to go wrong. Plan C if you will.

Listening to the conversation and staring at the shuttlebay floor, it struck her how they were all still thinking about this logically, formally, trying to come up with rigorous proofs.  Tori might have had all the makings of a smart girl, and even proven her smarts in figuring out how to come back in time, but no one made entirely rational decisions when their emotions were at war with themselves the way Tori's were.

Semara: More like they want us to approve of their plan. :: She let the words breathe, then looked up, her eyes searching for feeling in the others. :: Think about it.  There ain't a logical reason to bring the Ouachita back here I can think of, so why not an illogical one?  Why not sentiment?  They don't think of themselves as bad people, almost no one does.  But we're family to them, so they want us to say it's a good plan.  :: Shaking her head. :: I don't know, maybe that's not it, but think about all those personal logs they saved.  We gotta at least consider it.

Zerva: I’m honestly surprised they haven’t taken more of a fuss over us handpicking over the runabout. Since Tori’s name is on most of the schematic’s log, should we invite her to join us, once she is cleared for duty? Perhaps in the Holodeck if we decide to do there?

Her gaze lowered again.  In her hands, Amelia's thumb slipped into the crease where the tricorder lid met the main body of the scanner.  It pressed there, just barely levering the device open a half degree, feeling the spring force pinch the skin.

Semara: Okay, sounds like we got what we need from the shuttle for now, and it ain't goin' anywhere if we need more.  Holodeck, figure this puzzle piece out, then we still gotta research the camp.  A lot not addin' up there, too.

It was simply more convenient to not answer about Tori.  Ezra was probably right; she had more knowledge about all this than any of them, but he had no idea Amelia and Tori had shared their thoughts during the conference or how that sharing ended.  A well intentioned idea, but a terrible one.

Michaels: No disrespect, Amelia, but I have reservations. Your daughter might be withholding information from us and may continue to do so. On the holodeck, using our observations and what we have gathered from their records, we should be able to program a close replica.

Amelia's head lifted and she met Lera's gaze.  There was no way for the Vulcan to know how painful it was to be absolutely certain Tori was her daughter, to feel the bond and the memories, yet to see what Tori had become and what she was willing to do.  Amelia spoke simply and softly, with a kindness she wished she could give her own daughter.

Semara: None taken.  I have certainty.  I know she has, and she would continue, but that ain't the reason she won't be joinin' us.  :: Getting to her feet. :: Come on.  The holodeck.

How could she explain the real reason?  Better simply not to, she concluded.

Zerva: Response

(( Time skip. Deck 5, Holodeck 2 - Starfleet Testing Facility Simulation))

This was the kind of land that swallowed a person.  The sun and the sand could leech the soul out, one droplet of perspiration, one laden breath at a time.  It was the kind of open, empty vastness where one could simply disappear into a heated shimmer in the air.  Useful, apparently, testing all manner of classified designs on the real Earth.

Under ordinary circumstances, Amelia would have been happily nerding out about the occasional ocotillo or the way the creosote managed to find water, or hunting around for any lizards or other denizens of the desert.  It seemed rather pointless to do so in a simulation of a desert that they were liable to obliterate.  At least the far-off mountains looked inviting, with a bit of lush, darker green near the crowns where there was enough cool water for pines to grow.

So she did what she could, setting up simulated sensors on their simulated posts in front of an industrial test stand.  Lera, at least, seemed in her element - even more so than could be explained with the knowledge that Vulcans were desert natives.  Between Zerva making sure the schematics were safe to download and Michaels setting up the bulk of the test program, Amelia was left with her sweaty thoughts longer than she'd have liked.  She wanted the simulation's results, not to annoy the other two with anxious micro-management.

Michaels: The device is programmed to emit ordinary white light rather than actual Sencha radiation. The power levels should be identical. The simulation has been set up to show the same results on the test plate as actual Sencha radiation.

Semara: I set up every sensor I could think of.  Hopefully that'll be enough.  :: To Zerva :: For all we know, this program's a weapons test sequence.  Any last precautions you wanna take?

Zerva: Response

Amelia nodded.  Any safety precaution was a good one in her mind.

Michaels: Computer. Set safety protocols to maximum.

Computer: Safety protocols are at maximum. You should wear the safety goggles to prevent possible retinal damage.

The awkward bulk of the opaque goggles were heavy for a bunch of photons.  And ugly.  Just what century were these from?

Semara: Well it ain't an Astrim Avoi... :: A soft laugh. ::

It was nice to be concerned with something so frivolous as fashion and the mark the strap would leave in her hair for however brief the moment was.  She pulled her hairpin out and pocketed it safely and shook her hair out before putting a simple tie in it to create a ponytail.  Just because she was aching for her daughter's plight didn't mean she had to stop being vain.  Now there was a happy thought.

Zerva: Response

Michaels: Computer. Set power level to 10%. :: to Semara and Zerva :: For an initial test of a system that may simply be an emitter/sensor, that level should be appropriate.

That was the cue, apparently.  Goggle time.

Michaels: Is everyone ready?

Semara: Ready.

Zerva: Response

Michaels: Last chance:: beat :: No?

Through the goggles, Lera couldn't see the glare that betrayed just how much this fashion crime was hurting Amelia's soul.  Badly enough to make a murderous, time-travelling daughter fade to the middle-ground of her mind very momentarily, which was saying something.

Semara: :: Urging on :: Before I get raccoon eyes from these goggles, please?

Zerva: Response

Michaels: Very well. Goggles not withstanding, I recommend looking away. Computer. Turn on emitter for five seconds.

Seeing was quite a gift, so Amelia heeded the advice and turned away and put her back to a safety barrier.  The sensors would tell the real story anyway.

And there was light.

Bouncing rays pounded against the sand, turning it momentarily white from the intensity of the discharge.  What sensors she could see from here spiked and jittered, charting complex, wobbly paths too quick to understand in real time.  Dust hung illuminated in the simulated air, pretending to be mist.  The jagged forms of the bushes cast dim, clawing shadows on the ground, dancing a hedonistic rave in the flashing light of the emitter.

And then it stopped, and the sand was sand-colored again.

Semara: Safe?

She wasn't moving or taking her goggles off until there was certain to be no more blinding light.

Michaels / Zerva: Response

But the moment she was certain, the goggles were off again, and she was thankful to have the pressure off her eyes.

Semara: That was only ten percent? :: Shaking her head :: That's one powerful emitter. :: Beat :: Okay, computer's still workin' on compilin' the sensor readin's...  Any initial analysis?

Michaels / Zerva: Response

Tag / TBC...

---------- ○● ----------

Lieutenant Junior Grade Amelia Magnolia Semara

Science Officer - Special Projects

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0