LCDR Nolen Hobart — Now Hear This

[Nolen Hobart]

((OOC: As always, IC thoughts & reactions do not reflect OOC feelings.))

((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Khitomer, the Lagoon Nebula))

Nolen’s jaw hung open and twisted as he metaphorically chewed the new problem over. It wasn’t just a question of keeping the Khitomer from accidentally telling the probe to fire, now it was a problem of making sure the probe’s own (likely corrupted) bio-neural gel packs didn’t accidentally do the same thing, and they had no way of doing that remotely.

There were, to Hobart’s estimation, a number of ways to address this particular problem. The scalpel approach called for eyes on the problem, and a careful handling of it. They could get a team over to the probe, or bring the probe back aboard, and examine its circuitry. They’d be able to determine the extent of the corruption, and repair it.

Or they could try a sledgehammer.

Hobart: =/\= Connor, I sent a team to the shuttlebay during the blackout. Take fifteen minutes to think about the problem, and if I don’t hear from you by then I’m going to order they launch a runabout and blow the damned thing up. Apologies to Commander T’Dara. Hobart out. =/\=

As the decision settled on them, they just looked at each other for a moment.

Semara: If it's all the same to you, sir, I'm gonna find out what I can about what's out there while we wait.

Hobart: Sure thing.

Zerva: What are you thinking?

Semara: Here's what I'm thinkin'.  The raw sensor feeds give us the position of particles, but it can't track 'em without the computer.  If we each take a PADD and start plottin' the positions over time by hand, we can build orbit and energy plots.  We get enough plots, I can work out the local subspace topology.  That plus the tricorder data I got...  Might figure somethin' out.  :: A breath :: Sounded like Zerva's got somethin' with the computer, too.  Anythin'll help.

Zerva: I’m no engineer, but what we’ve come up with for available supplies, I was thinking, what if we could use the parts from my phaser, the mirco-resonator I found and dermal regenerator from the first aid kit and rig thier power supplies together to create a boosted signal. One we could use them with the computer that could in theory; when combined with our current limited range on the sensors, would help us track down the probe. It would give us maybe five minutes tops before the power runs out. Their power cells don’t hold a lot of power. I would need your help sir to configure out how to do all that. It’s all Greek to me. ::scratches his head:: but you’re the resident engineer on the bridge. What do you think?

As Lieutenant JG Zerva explained his idea, Nolen visualized each of the components in his mind and saw them going together. It would take a bit of effort and probably some bruised fingertips to make it happen, but it could work. 

Hobart: You’re right it won’t last long. Don’t turn it on until we’re ready to start tracking. ::beat:: And put it together in the conference room in case it explodes.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant JG Semara was peering through a pinhole of data, and making notes about what she could see. It reminded Nolen more than a little about the allegory of the blind men and the elephant, and though her idea about assembling bite-sized measurements and estimating a greater picture seemed good in theory, he was skeptical that they’d come up with a sense of the space around them complete enough to be of much value in tracking down the probe.

Semara: I can do the recordin' all myself, if you don't mind me namin' every object in the nebula. :: A little smile at her PADD. :: This big carbonaceous chunk here looks kinda like a roly poly.  :: A proud grin, then a haughty side-eye at Hobart. :: Maybe I'll call it "Roly Noly."

Zerva: ::snickers:: I second “Roly Noly”. ::makes quotes with his fingers:: It’s cute. Matches your first name Captain.

Eyes narrowed, Lt. Commander Hobart threw a withering glance at the Security Officer as Semara sat at the science station. “Don’t let them know how much it bothers you” seemed like such a good idea to begin with. He knew he wasn’t doing a good job at hiding his displeasure from the Betazoid, who just smiled.

Hobart: I’d prefer we didn’t.

Zerva: Hey you’re out voted sir, two to one. There could be worse names to come up with. ::eyes Semara::

Semara: :: Eyebrows raised. :: Worse?  I would never!  :: A little smile :: Most folks are honored to get somethin' named after 'em.  :: A little shrug. :: But to each their own…

He checked the chronometer on Lieutenant Semara’s PADD.

Hobart: Isn’t it funny how technology and civilization can change us, as different species? Just completely wipes out our basic survival instincts.

Zerva: Yes sir. ::goes back to work:: At your discretion

Semara: Aye sir.  Gettin' to work…

Clearly, the Lieutenants got the message, and nothing more needed to be said.

((Brief Timeskip, Some fifteen minutes later))

Time was up. At least on the arbitrary schedule he'd given himself and Engineering. The probe was out there, somewhere, even as Lieutenants JG Semara and Zerva searched diligently (but inefficiently) for it through a sliver of Khitomer’s broad sensor arrays. And somewhere below him the shuttlebay team was working to connect the shuttles to the Khitomer's power grid, in the hopes of stabilizing life support, if not also propulsion.

Semara: Well, the PADD didn't crash, so that's good.  Just gotta wait for the calculations to come back.  How's it goin'?

Hobart: Lieutenant Zerva, are you alright?

Zerva: I think this plan will work sir.::rubs his forehead:: It’s nothing sir. Just the headache I had in the conference room. It keeps coming and going.

He cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. They'd been working through desperate circumstances. Even without a potentially rogue Sencha emitter floating somewhere nearby, the strain on their bodies was probably more than any of them had suffered since their Academy fitness exams.

Semara: I'm guessin' we'll all need a check-up after this.  No tellin' how much radiation we all got with the sensors down.

Hobart: Get some water rations from the emergency kit, Mister Zerva. See if that helps.

Semara: Woah...  :: Placing the PADD onto the console for everyone to see. :: Now that's pretty.

Nolen's dark eyes turned up to look at the data portrayed on the console. Wavy lines and mutilated ovals were everywhere. It didn't seem especially pretty to him, but maybe that's because he still didn't know exactly what he was looking at.

Semara: See it? :: A slight pause. :: Some orbits are following the path of a prime knot.  :: Pointing ::  This one's seven crossin's, looks like.  :: Pointing to a different orbit ::  There's a five-crossin' knot orbit.  Our anomaly must be tanglin' up subspace like a ball a' yarn for that to happen.  Space is curvin' every which way, that's why we're feelin' a big pull.

Zerva: Response

Hobart: ::muttered:: Looks like a space jacuzzi. ::normal:: And the blue lights?

Semara: The tricorder data helped a bit.  The blue sparks we saw were visible light emissions from highly compressed resonating Sencha Waves that refracted off our dispersion wave, and got pulled back into the nursery's gravity well.... :: Stopping at the blank looks. :: Never mind.  Ever stuff a bit of string or cord in your pocket and leave it there all day?

Nolen's brow furrowed. When would he have done that? He couldn't recall ever having done that as a child—he wasn't nearly that organized. But conceptualization it was enough for his mind to piece it together. A squishy clump, not quite woven into itself.

Zerva: Response

Semara: Right.  Basically we did that, only let's say the cord is threads of Sencha Waves, the pocket is the stellar nursery, and the hand that stuffed it in there was the SDA pulses.  Not really, but close enough.  At least I think that's what happened.  We can't see the "cords" around us, but we can see the subspace singularity anchorin' everythin'.  It's where the threads all intersect.  Or maybe originate.  Hard to say without sensors and a computer.  :: Beat :: You sure you don't want it named after you, sir?

She grinned, but he hardly noticed. His eyes were fixed on the readout. He wanted to take refuge in the fact that this was built on conjecture and assumptions, but he knew better. Semara’s work here was based on observational data, limited though it might be. They'd felt the shudder and seen the lights.

Hobart: Can we fly through it? Can a runabout?

Zerva: Response

Semara: Right.  'Course.  Problem is, if we trip on a Sencha Wave thread on our way out and fall into the central singularity...  Yeah.

He didn't need the details of falling into a singularity, but he looked at the “map” again. He couldn't tell where it was. Maybe Semara could, but only on the screen. They needed a way to get out. Or sort out the carpet wrinkles they'd just put into subspace. As in reading his mind (and perhaps actually doing so) Lieutenant Semara’s tone seemed to get more hopeful.

Semara: It oughta untangle itself in about eighteen months, but I'm totally guessin'.  I'm thinkin' you don't wanna stick around that long, so I'll keep workin' on chartin' particle orbits until my error bars are small enough for us to safely navigate the tangle.  Gonna take a while without the computer.  :: Turning back to the science station. :: So that's me, how's Fixer Upper Fleet Edition goin'?

Zerva: Response

Hobart: Hang on, Mister Zerva. ::to Semara:: We don't have eighteen months. What are the implications for—

He was interrupted by another chirp from the communications system. The melody was heartening to hear, as it almost sounded normal. The tone only fell flat there at the end. Maybe the engineering team was close to having them operational.

El’Heem: =/\= El’Heem to bridge. Are comms restored or am I talking to myself here? =/\=

Hobart: =/\= This is the bridge. I read you, Doctor. What's your status? =/\=

Prix / Cain / Semara / Zerva: =/\= Response =/\=

El’Heem: =/\= Cap. Good to hear you are hanging in there. We made it to shuttle bay after some mild gravitational hiccups but emergency power was restored before we connected the shuttle to the Khitomer. We’ve since spliced the Type 11’s warp drive into the Khitomer’s power supply but we ran into something ::pausing:: peculiar. It would seem the gel packs in both the Type 11 and the Ouchita are bad. Not sure in what way or why but I thought you should know. =/\=

He cursed silently. Some part of him had hoped that between the Khitomer's hull and the small crafts’ respective hulls, that there would have been enough protection. Sencha waves, it turned out, did not care.

Hobart: =/\= Yes, it's that way for Khitomer, as well. Ensign Prix, what's your assessment? Can they fly? =/\=

Prix / Cain / Semara / Zerva: =/\= Response =/\=

His molars pressed together. They would have to find out, uncertainty be damned.

Hobart: =/\= Prep the Ouchita. As soon as she's flightworthy, let me know. Standby for shipwide; Bridge out. =/\=

It was time to tell the crew. They needed to be on the same page, rowing in the same direction. The ship was a mess, and it was in a mess. And the probe was out there, perhaps waiting to misfire. Lt. Commander Hobart opened a shipwide channel.

Hobart: =/\= All hands, this is the Captain. As you can tell power and communications have been restored. Injuries should immediately report to Sickbay on deck six, or the aid station on deck thirteen. =/\=

He spared a glance to Zerva, who he'd caught doing the kind of skull-massage that Nolen knew all too well.

Hobart: =/\= We are currently without propulsion, and we are caught in a subspace anomaly. You may continue to feel shudders as the ship is pulled by currents around a small, newly formed singularity. Our first priority is to restore the ship. Our second is to free it. You should also be aware that the probe is still out there and we have reason to believe it risks a misfire. The inoculation we've received should protect us, but it won't protect the ship. For now, keep communications to a necessary minimum. Direct medical concerns to Commander Ohnari. Direct engineering matters to Commander Dewitt. And direct scientific concerns to Lieutenant Semara. We will get through and out of this together. Hobart out. =/\=

With the comm channel closed, he looked to the two junior officers beside him. Once again, he'd put Lieutenant Semara in charge of her area, but now he was certain it was the right move. He raised an eyebrow, as if to invite comment.

Semara / Zerva: Response 

TBC

———

Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart

Executive Officer

USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)

A240001NH3