Ensign Talon Morda: On the fleeting use of another language, and the writers discover they've got a punster on their hands
Eston Melton
{{Bridge, Deck 1, USS Khitomer, in orbit of Alpha Trionus II}}
Morda took in another battery of Lieutenant Michaels’ helpful feedback. Focus: detecting the incoming Lattice ships. More experienced officers and crew, already in the mix, were on point on the rest.
Morda: :: speaking softly:: Lest I fail to mention it later: thanks for helping me out here, Lieutenant. I appreciate it.
Michaels: De Nada. It is my pleasure.
Morda was slightly nonplussed: growing up, he had always been fond of Great Uncle Denada, to whom he had a strong resemblance -- at family reunions, their kin teased Talon by calling him “Young Denada,” and his uncle in turn became “Elder Tal.” Denada was a vibe tube virtuoso, and something of an oddball -- all the more fascinating to young Talon and his sisters. Whereas Morda had reviewed the crew manifest on his trip over, it seemed the lieutenant, in the midst of the mission, had perhaps done a bit of a deeper dig on him. Had the rest of the officer cadre perused his service record and family history that deeply? And had the Vulcan just smiled? oO Oh no what else is in my file? If they’ve got that family nickname in there … oh, there are some adolescent doozies. I might have some explaining to do to the captain. Oo It was disconcerting, but he mentally shook it off, focusing, again, on the work in front of them. He congratulated himself on not jumping at the lieutenant’s tap on his shoulder.
Michaels: Let us concentrate on our assignment and consider what the data is telling us. How would you interpret this reading?
Morda took in the generalized sensor returns. The conversation between the exec and comms officer faded out as he concentrated on the console and his impromptu facilitator. The computer did a tremendous job amalgamating shipboard, planetary, and orbital passive and active scanners, clearing out background clutter and surfacing notable data points -- but, not always presenting a definitive interpretation of the data when there was room for uncertainty. That’s where the living, professional crew came into play.
Morda: :: Shifting the sensor phase to double-check his gut.:: Something’s moving. Linearly, and not affected by planetary or stellar gravitational pull. Under its own power.
Michaels: Correct. If we zoom in on this location. ::The lieutenant tapped the screen with both hands. The display quickly expanded to show the "target." :: The key features here are that is relatively small and it is moving across the cloud rather than toward us.
Lieutenant Michaels tapped the screen again, and resumed the earlier display. She waited a few moments before touching the algorithm portion of the screen.
Michaels: What is this data telling you?
Morda appreciated the Socratic tutorial. He knew where they’d end up, but the lieutenant -- who’d surely come to the bridge for a task unrelated to handholding the new ensign -- was also affording him a chance to familiarize himself in the field with the ship’s tactical capabilities. Atmospheres vs. Vacuums had been the default teams for Security/Tactical pareses squares matches -- but despite the cross-training, Morda had much more muscle memory around sensors and defensive systems several orders of magnitude less powerful than what the vac-shooters managed.
Morda: Not an organic cosmozoan. Artificial.
Michaels: Correct again. It is a vessel. Probably one of the very few that actually transit the cloud. We concluded that the Alliance's preferred path would be through the cloud because there is very little traffic here meaning that there is little chance of encountering another vessel. And the Cloud itself would make their strike force more difficult for standard methods to detect.
Morda nodded, gesturing toward one of the secondary returns.
Morda: And it’s not broadcasting a transponder, which is otherwise an operating norm near inhabited systems.
Michaels: Indeed. Perhaps this vessel is a privateer who also seeks the "cloaking" nature of the Kokopelli Cloud. Your turn. Pick a dataset and then analyse it for me.
The lieutenant stepped back, giving Morda broader access to the entire tactical array. He was about to adjust one of the passive areas to glean more information about the unknown contact in the nebula -- but he paused, remembering Michaels’ admonition: “Our priority is to get as much advanced warning and actionable intel as possible.” That contact, unknown as it was, was moving away from them -- and it had enough electromagnetic radiation leakage and eddy currents that there was little hazard of not being able to follow-up. He migrated the sensor return to a secondary screen, and brought to focus a telemetry report for a trio of key assets, at least one of which we suspected was providing the sensor data they’d been staring at. oO There we go. Oo He turned back to Michaels and offered his own reserved grin.
Morda: The probes are almost in position, Lieutenant. Primary data links are coming online and-- oO Oh, boy Oo
Morda’s grin dropped as he saw Michaels’ gaze fall on the expanded sensor returns. Several new blips appeared.
Michaels: Commander Hobart. I believe you will want to take a look at this.
The first officer paused his conversation with the communications officer and circumnavigated the bridge to approach the tactical arch.
Hobart: Keep holding. Probes in position?
Morda: Aye, sir: in position and providing … clear data.
Hobert eyeballed the sensor returns himself
Hobart: Too much to hope for a pod of gormaganders, is it?
Michaels: That would be highly improbable, sir. My preliminary analysis indicates that the group consists of at least two and perhaps as many as three Sheliak vessels; either one light cruiser and one heavy cruiser or three light cruisers. There are also at least two smaller Tholian craft. This technique and the nature of the Kokopelli Cloud make precision difficult.
Morda: We could try to reposition to probes or boost the gain for clarity, but both increase the odds of them being detected and targeted for elimination.
Hobart: Looks like they’re in a holding position. From there, their fastest ships could be here in a few hours, if they wanted. Wonder what they’re waiting on.
Morda: Could they be waiting for a signal or some other antecedent before they come barreling in?
B’Ella: Response
Michaels began tapping her lip and then offered:
Michaels: One possibility is that they are waiting for nightfall at the prison. Having a significant number of the defenders asleep would increase their probability of success.
Morda: ::Tilting his head quizzically:: I wonder if they really assume they have stealth on their side - this cloud is kind of obvious as an approach cover. And they sacrifice the initiative by sitting idle. Perhaps they are hoping we sacrifice a positional advantage and approach them, but in the process increase our response time to support the facility - particularly if they have another group nearby under better concealment. :: Looking around suddenly abashed, conscious of his ramble. :: Though it’d have to be pretty phenomenal concealment, since it’s open space. And I don’t think we have intel suggesting the Lattice has cloaking tech.
oO Shut up, Tal Oo
Hobart: Response
Michaels: I am confident that they are assessing the situation here and adjusting their plans. Put yourself in their position. The most favorable and probable scenario would be that the prison would be only lightly defended and that there would not be any vessels in orbit. Less probable would be the scenario with a single vessel, perhaps a supply ship, in orbit. The Alliance commanders would certainly have prepared for that possibility and, given the number of battle worthy ships, that appears to be exactly what they have done. Even less likely would be the possibility that there would be an experienced Starfleet ship present when they arrived.
An contrite nod was Morda’s best response.
Hobart: Response
Michaels: If they have detected our presence and know what our ship is, then they realize that the likelihood of a successful mission has fallen considerably. Their mission is still possible, perhaps even probable if they plan carefully and maintain the element of surprise.
Michaels: Their worst case scenario would be if there were multiple Starfleet ships in the immediate vicinity... especially if they could not detect some of the vessels. :: a quick glance at the communications officer :: That suggests a possible strategy you may wish to consider. Again, put yourself in the position of the Alliance taskforce commanding officer. Suppose you detect a message from a Commander Hobart apparently directed to the commanding officer of an accompanying Klingon Bird of Prey informing them that Khitomer has detected a Lattice Alliance task force and recommending that her task force remain cloaked and observe radio silence. :: Another steady look at the red haired Klingon woman at the communications station :: Then you, the commander of the Alliance taskforce, pick up a message from that female Klingon commander acknowledging the information and agreeing to do so. :: Lera smiled slightly. :: How do you, oh great Lattice Alliance commander, assess the situation now?
Morda was a bit floored by the rapid ideation, and it seemed a plausible stratagem. He decided to offer a “yes, and,” just like Uncle Denada always did at his own zany ideas.
Morda: If we’re comfortable assuming they haven’t picked up our probes, we could patch in a comm protocol. We can tightbeam :: he looked toward the comm officer, realizing he didn’t even know her name -- or most anyone else’s name :: the Klingon commander’s response to the probe, then have it broadcast it back out such that the Lattice ships pick it up. It’d give the signal some directionality that doesn’t point back at us. We’d need to adjust the broadcast strength to simulate a distance that doesn’t point back straight at the probe, though.
B'Ella / Hobart: Response
{{OOC Meet me in the bar later to discuss how a universal translator would deal with a fleeting reference to another language. We can start with Picard’s “Merde” in “Elementary, Dear Data.”}}