Lieutenant Amelia Semara - Regulation 46A

[Max]

(( Observatory, Velithari Ship Jorogumo ))

The whole nebula was alive.  The swirling pinks, purples, and violets out the huge bubble-window demanded to be looked at again with new eyes.  Simple gas, it was not.  Amelia had even noticed the way the stuff seemed to move in susurrations in a way that couldn't be fully explained by turbulence from the Jorogumo or anywhere else for that matter.  What's more, that life apparently glommed onto and gummed up anything that dove into subspace...  Desperately dangerous to the Velithari's prized nebula.  All the more reason to immediately warn Connor.

Amelia looked over to Rana once more, studying her as the enormous space made Connor's voice sound particularly tinny over the comms.

Semara: =/\= The Velithari are real protective, and I understand 'em to be real worried about infection or contamination of themselves and the nebula.  So tell the cap'n that, too.  I don't know much more than that yet.  If I were to guess, I'd say odds are low of a true sapient intelligence.  Too diffuse.  :: Beat, then thoughtfully. :: Ant colonies are capable a' complex problem solvin', but don't 'think' per se.  Maybe an analogue? :: Another beat. :: I'll call back when we know more - 'bout anythin'.  Either way, we can't go to warp until we're fully clear a' the nebula, or confidently understand the mechanism. =/\=

With any luck, the information would be enough to help Connor's engineering brain to work the problem and get people in motion.  But the real audience of the show was still Rana.  If the Velithari's eyes could roll, Amelia imagined they'd have rotated a full one-hundred-eighty degrees at the sound of Connor's voice again.  Still, it was worth taking the chance so Rana might see her intentions up close and personal.

The first officer - the real one - could be heard breathing over the comms.  It was that particular sigh of anxious exhaustion Amelia seemed to hear from him more often lately.

Dewitt: =/\= Yes, Ma’am. No warp, Ma’am. I’ll let the Captain know. ::beat:: A note from the Captain, Ma’am. Concerning the pasta party you were supposed to attend before you left… Turns out the guests had cousins in every cupboard. We’re playing slow records, most of the are snoring. We ain’t sweeping any of them outdoors, yet. Just letting the family sleep. =/\=

Amelia's eyebrows furrowed...  Pasta party...  Guest in every cupboard...  Slow records.  She had to grin at an "ain't'" slipping through.  Strangely comforting to hear her own vernacular from Connor.

Rana: Does your communications assistant often speak such nonsense?

Her lips quirked, tempted to tell Rana about regulation 46A.  Would the captain even believe that a male had the capacity to talk in code?

Semara: :: To Rana :: Pretty much.

The only problem was...  What the heck was Connor talking about?  If Amelia focused, the strain in his voice was a thread she could follow back to him aboard the Khitomer, a sliver of emotion she could feel empathically even through the chunky chowder of nebula between them.  It added the context she needed to piece something together.  The situation was stable, but not solved.

Semara: =/\= Got it.  I'll see if I can learn their grandmother's sauce recipe.  Never know, might make 'em wanna head home. =/\=

Okay, maybe the analogy was stretched there, but that was her whole thing today.

See Ras?  Connor got it.

Dewitt: =/\= Understood. Communications Assistant Dewitt out. =/\=

She closed the line, and settled herself with a breath.  The stray thought made her want to reach out to Ras(ha), wanting to salve the ache of another regretful mistake with some assurance (s)he was still safe.  Amelia felt her awareness shifting almost on its own accord, pressing into the space to search out that comforting presence.  Everything around her was like a telepathic non-newtonian memory foam.  The ship, it occurred to Amelia.  There was a presence to the vessel itself, alive albeit unaware.  A whole ecosystem floating inside another ecosystem.  No wonder she'd been positively overflowing with energy after coming aboard - there was feeling all around her.  And Talia...  It must have been a lot.

Amelia's chin dropped a fraction of an inch, wishing she'd been less wrapped up with herself and paying more attention to her friend.

Rana: Am I to assume you believe your ship's propulsion system is conflicting with the function of the nebula?

Amelia smiled softly.

Semara: That's right.  The two are incompatible.  Each one damages the other.

Rana: And your ship will cease the activity that may cause damage, then?

Her smile blossomed a little bigger.

Semara: Exactly right.  We can also set marker buoys around your nebula, makin' sure everyone knows to do the same.  I ain't gonna guarantee there won't be folks who don't heed the warnin', but most everyone steers clear of a Starfleet hazard buoy these days.  :: Beat :: If you'd like, we'll add information tellin' folks to stay clear of the nebula entirely.  Or, if you'd prefer, we can program 'em with protocols lettin' folks know the proper way to make contact with y'all... Or even visit.

Time to figure out just what sort of relationship with the galaxy the Velithari wanted.  Doubtless, Rana couldn't make this sort of decision on her own, but her response could be the beginning of something much more.

Rana: Response

Of course that was exactly when her badge chirped again.

Dewitt: =/\= Comms assistant Dewitt to Lieutenant Semara, with respects. =/\=

Was that... amusement?  Well then.  At least Amelia wasn't the only one having a disproportionately good time considering the multiply-mandibled woman that could easily slice her up staring at her from across the observatory.

Semara: =/\= Semara here. =/\=

Dewitt: =/\= Two pieces of personal news, Ma’am. ::pause:: Your missing relative is alive. We discovered that he sent us a postcard the old-fashioned way. We are writing him back and will use your house phone to call back. =/\=

For a moment, Amelia equated the missing relative to Tori, all the way until the pronoun "he."  There was only one missing male in recent memory.  So Matthews had managed to communicate with the Khitomer.  Clever boy.

Semara: =/\= Sounds good...  Anything I need to do 'sides send my regards? =/\=

House phone?  Maybe they needed her to do something with her communicator was all she could think.

Dewitt: =/\= Sorry, Ma’am. I just wanted to let you know, Ma’am. You might feel the ripples once he gets home. =/\=

Then it was time to brace for diplomatic impact.

Semara: =/\= Got it.  :: Beat, then adding. :: Tell him to not get mud on the carpet when he gets back. =/\=

To be frank, she wasn't even sure what that meant other than to go through normal decontamination procedures.

Dewitt: =/\= Yes, Ma’am. No more distractions, Ma’am. =/\=

The line closed, and she was grateful to have the quiet moment again.

Semara: :: Under her breath. :: Thank you...

Amelia could have sworn caught another empathic twitch from Rana, and couldn't help but smirk to herself.  This whole time, the two of them had been circling around each other, trying to see what they held behind their backs.  The analogy to dinner with Ras slapped Amelia in the face.  (Metaphorically.)  She was so busy fretting over whether he'd reject a piece of who and what she was, she wasn't even willing to show it to him.

Now here she was doing the same thing: hiding who and what the Federation was because the truth was the Jorogumo and power of this nebula were frightening.  Or had the Velithari taken on her place?  They'd taken Matthews, but to what end?  The whole time, they'd been imagining Matthews ending up a little light refreshment on some alien's platter, but... He was alive.  Communicating, even.  How much of the Velithari's ways were genuinely dangerous, and how much was just strange?

The temptation to ask a completely unrelated question was too strong.

Semara: Cap'n Rana, if you'll indulge my curiosity, do the Velithari play music?

If the word didn't even translate, she'd have her answer.

Rana: Response

Semara: :: A little smile and a little nod. :: I learned to play somethin' called the violin when I was young.  It's an instrument with a wood body, four strings, and... :: trailing off with a chuckle. :: Never mind.  It's complicated.  :: Beat :: Point is, one a' the many challenges is our music's got a notation - a language and writin' system - all its own.  When I first learned, it was mostly by ear.  That means I'd listen and try to copy what it sounded like.  When I started learnin' the notation, it was harder for me 'cause I came to it later.  :: Beat :: Do you have anything like that?  Where it feels like you should understand, but don't?

Rana: Response

Semara: :: A nod :: That's what meetin' a new species is like every time.  We can talk, but we don't actually understand each other, do we?  Makes sense that would be confusin' or even scary.  I know it is for me.

Amelia's smile twisted into a complicated shape at the admission.  It wasn't much of a material risk, but it was a personal one.  Then again, the whole time Amelia had been sampling the currents around her, feeling out the emotional world of the Velithari around her - squishy and yielding and hard-to-pin-down as it was - without revealing her own trepidation.  She took a slow breath, smile reshaping into something a little warmer, more inviting.  Now they shared that fear.

Semara: And that's why Dewitt is followin' Starfleet regulation 46A - no uncoded messages when they might be overheard and there's a risk of hostility.  :: A more clever smile. :: Ain't bad for a man, right?  :: Beat :: See, if y'all got a sign that says "keep out", we ain't able to read it.  We ain't sure why you took Matthews - the human male - or if it was intended as a hostile move.  :: A patient, but pointed beat :: Was it?

Rana: Response

Tag / TBC...

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Lieutenant Amelia Magnolia Semara

Intelligence Officer

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0