LCDR Nolen Hobart — Seizing Greetings

[Nolen Hobart]

((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Khitomer, en route to the Lagoon Nebula))

Hobart’s dark eyes burned toward the rapidly dwindling measures of time and space. He found himself unconsciously gripping the armrests of his seat as both figures raced to zero. Suddenly the streaking starlight resolved itself and the viewscreen was filled with purple-brown currents the makings of stars, billions of years ahead of their time. But that's about all he saw.

He waited for a few seconds before breaking the relative silence of the ship's command center.

Hobart: Well, nobody's shooting at us. ::nod:: Promising start.

Korras: Shield are raised. Long range sensors are indicating several comets, but I am not reading any power emissions from ships.

Ayemet: Well someone created those sencha waves; a cloaked ship?

Semara: I'm readin' decay isotopes in the nebula consistent with two Sencha bursts - ours, and the one DS33 saw.  Nothin' fresh since then.  They could'a left.

Nolen shifted in his seat, this time for reasons unrelated to physical discomfort. They could have left, yes. He sensed the doubt in her words and in her heart, and in his own mind. Why would they leave? Why would they lure Khitomer here?

Semara: Lemme keep at it, I'll look for other clues.

Shayne: Any sign of the probe?

Hobart: Antimatter warheads don't usually leave a lot behind.

Something swelled to his left, beyond Shayne. A twisting, gnawing nausea. As the crew on the bridge worked to figure out what was going on, Lt. Commander Hobart leaned forward in his seat to look at Lieutenant Dewitt on the other side of him.

Korras: I am detecting an object the size of a probe, but no concentration of Sencha radiation. Should I plot a course to it?

Ayemet: :turning to face Shayne: Something’s wrong.

Semara: Confirmed - object range one hundred kilometers, showin' numerous smaller objects around it.  Combined mass roughly seventy percent of the probe's.  Best guess - wreckage.

He felt himself pulled in two directions. Something was happening to Ayemet. Could it have been the Sencha? He would have felt it in himself. Or in Semara. Was it her implant acting up?

Shayne: Helmsman- change course. Intercept the object, one half impulse. 

Korras: Aye sir, adjusting course. 

Ayemet:  Not a probe.

Hobart: Not ours, at least.

Semara: Agreed - in the original experiment, Sencha Radiation only got as concentrated as it did 'cause of the SDA pulse.  Decay isotopes from the second Sencha event suggest a more powerful emitter than our probe was used.

Shayne: The only things we know of capable of doing that are Alliance vessels, and their heavy hitters at that. ::turning back to Ayemet:: You said it’s not a probe?

The heaviest-hitting Alliance vessels would have been impossible to hide. They were hideously large and largely hideous affairs, as brutal in design as the two supremacist species that built them. And, as he and Ayemet had worked out in Stellar Cartography, they were exceedingly unlikely to be found here.

Hobart: Feels like we'd have seen one of those.

Ayemet: Not a probe. :a revelation: A ship.  A shuttle maybe or a runabout?

Hobart: A scout craft would be the most plausible, but still not very. There's nothing out here for them.

Besides Khitomer. It was hard to shake the feeling that they'd been lured back to the Nebula by someone or something that wanted them there. Some unfinished business from the last time they were manipulated into position.

Korras: Response

Semara: Gonna try recalibratin' sensors and tyin' in the lateral array...  See if I can compensate for all this radiation.

Hobart: Mr. Korras, align us with the dorsal pods facing the wreckage.

He gave the Captain an apologetic look. He was back in the command chair, and Nolen was glad to have him there. Now it was just a matter of figuring out how not to step on the CO’s toes.

Korras: Response

The queasy sense from Lieutenant Dewitt was buried by a burst of excitement coming from the command center’s science station, manned by Lieutenant JG Semara. Hobart wondered whether he’d have felt the same feelings from her when they were last here.

Semara: Sirs!  I got indications of a residual Hob- :: Clearing her throat :: subspace singularity where we left it.  Small, but it's there.  Tryin' to get a better look…

Hobart: ::muscling past his revulsion:: I thought the Ouachita’s warp drive sealed it completely?

Korras / Any: Response

Ayemet: Whatever or whoever is out there doesn’t belong.

Semara: No kiddin'... :: Beat :: Sensors show a massive warpin' of subspace just around the aperture, and... :: Trailing off, tapping a few buttons. :: The Hole is puttin' out trace chroniton decay.

Shayne: Chronitons… you don’t think…?

There was some unspoken law of reality which required a First Officer to make certain pronouncements from time to time. All the greats before him had done it, and Nolen Hobart would be nothing if not great. Accordingly, he was under an obligation by the very fabric universe to utter a response to the Captain’s inquiry that was as necessary as it was obvious.

Hobart: Time travel.

Korras / Ayemet / Any: Response

Semara: :: Far off :: We need light...  :: Sudden focus :: Lieutenant Korras, there any way to vent charged plasma from the engines?

Of course there was a way. But it was a phenomenally dangerous idea. The gases here were volatile, they knew that well enough from firsthand experience. Hobart didn’t know what exactly Lieutenant Semara had in mind, but he stiffened in his chair in response to her suggestion. Whatever her plan, it involved pouring kerosene onto a pile of tinders, when they came all this way in the knowledge that someone out here held a match.

Hobart: Don’t like that.

Korras / Ayemet / Any: Response

Shayne: What’s your plan, Lieutenant?

He knew the Captain had been an Engineer, so he knew the Captain knew well enough how dangerous the act would be. He also knew the Captain had been a pilot, and so he ventured that must have been where his reckless streak—even by Hobartian standards—came from.

Semara: There's loads a' heavy gasses in the nebula, formed by the energetic Sencha bursts.  If we can energize 'em even for a moment, the whole nebula'll light up like a giant neon back-light.  Brighter the better.  If anyone's around, they'll show as an occlusion - a shadow - on sensors, even if their power level's nothin'.

Korras / Ayemet / Any: Response

Hobart: ::to Shayne, quietly:: Captain, there’s a non-zero chance that “light up” here means “kaboom.” We still don’t know who’s out there, and if they have a desire to harm us, sir, we’d be giving them a golden opportunity.

He waited as the Captain processed his advice, and braced himself for an order one way or the other. If they didn’t try this, there was a chance they’d never find whoever was hiding out here.

Shayne: Prepare to vent our drive plasma, Mr. Korras. Give us some speed as we let loose- don’t want to be caught in our own wake. 

Korras / Any: Response 

Shayne: Begin venting as soon as we’re at a safe velocity, Lieutenant. 

Dutifully, Korras gave a series of commands. Plasma trailed, pouring in volatile tendrils out from the ship’s warp nacelles as Khitomer plowed further into the field of starfuel.

Korras: Response 

The viewscreen lit up, bright as the sun, and then dimmed as the ship’s computer compensated its display.

Shayne: Korras, Semara- what do your elf eyes see? 

As multiple pairs of eyeballs scanned readouts and displays for signs of… something, Nolen turned his attention to Lieutenant Dewitt. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t getting right. Her mental nausea was almost overwhelming to him.

Hobart: Lieutenant?

Korras / Semara / Ayemet: Response 

Shayne: There! Is that it? Magnify bottom left corner.

Someone directed the viewscreen to fill the Captain’s orders. Nolen glanced up to see a shadowy splotch, and then looked back to Ayemet.

Shayne: Mr. Korras, close external plasma vents and bring us to bear with that object. Ms. Semara, anything you can tell me would be good. 

The Captain, too, could no longer ignore it. It had to be dealt with, even if he lacked the empathic senses to understand its full weight. Hobart tapped his combadge.

Shayne: We’re bringing you assistance now- please, help me understand what is wrong. 

Hobart: =/\= Medical to the Bridge. =/\=

Korras / Ayemet / Semara: Response

He tapped his combadge again to close the channel, and turned to his armrest controls to ensure that it had been sent. A short report from sickbay to his armrest informed him that help was on the way. He needed to focus now, so he pushed away the nagging unease at the back of his mind that sloshed there from Ayemet’s.

Shayne: Nolen, I thought your report said the runabout was destroyed. 

Hobart: ::looking up at the screen:: It… was? Should have been? Unless… it got sent forward in time through the singularity? Might explain the chronitons.

But it wouldn’t explain the second Sencha burst.

Shayne: =/\= Bridge to Engineering. Standby to arrest a drifting small craft.  =/\=

Dewitt: =/\= What class of shuttle are we expecting? =/\=

Shayne: =/\= At this point, a runabout. If you’re looking for more details, we won’t have them until it’s aboard. =/\=

Dewitt: =/\= Understood. On our way. =/\=

Shayne: Nolen, take charge down there- I want answers as soon as you can get them. 

Hobart: You’ll have them, sir.

Nolen sped out of his seat, and maneuvered around the Bridge. The turbolift doors opened, invitingly, and he stepped in.

Shayne: Mr. Korras, angle us to intercept the craft in our main hangar. Coordinate with engineering. Lieutenant Semara, full active scanning. When we’re in position, tractor the craft as close as possible. 

Then the doors shut, and he was alone. He still sensed the confusion on the Bridge, the excitement, the doubt. And Ayemet’s struggle against… reality? What was going on? Whatever it was, they didn’t have all the answers. Some puzzle pieces were still missing, and it was entirely possible that the runabout was a trap.

Hobart: Deck two. ::tapping combadge:: =/\= Hobart to Zerva. I want a security team in the shuttlebay on the double. =/\=

Zerva: =/\= Response =/\=

Hobart: =/\= See you there. Hobart out. =/\=

((Brief Timeskip, Shuttlecraft Control Room, Deck 2))

One deck down, and Hobart felt every millisecond of the journey pass by him. He burst into the control room as if part of a stampede.

Hobart: Report.

Connor / Banks: Response

His eyes flew upward, gazing through the window that stood between them and the shuttlebay, and towards the open maw that was the bay door. The plasma venting had ceased, and the nebula was mostly back to its original dim state. And there, hanging in view in a decidedly unnatural way, was the runabout they’d found. The doors opened behind him, announcing someone else’s arrival.

Hobart: Looks like it’s been through hell and bank.

Connor / Banks / Zerva: Response

The report nearly surprised him, but he had been so unwilling to commit himself to any expectation whatsoever that it didn’t quite. He chuckled wryly, and then turned towards the door.

Hobart: If there’s lifeforms aboard, let’s go welcome them. And maybe shoot them.

Connor / Banks / Zerva: Response

TBC

——— ○●● ———

Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart

Executive Officer

USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)

A240001NH3