Ensign Amelia Semara - Milquetoast

[Max]

(( Simulated Bridge, Deck 1, USS Enterprise, NCC 1701-A, Fleet Museum Annex, Sol Station ))

The situation wasn't easy, but it was stable for the moment.  Someone was out there, probably a Klingon, probably stalking the freighter Fibonacci Igloo, and Enterprise was meant to resolve the situation one way or another with Amelia in the captain's chair.

A delightfully classic dilemma set on a classic beauty of a starship.  But, as Hobart kept reminding them all, there was an almost completely arbitrary deadline to be met.  She needed a plan of action.

Semara: One problem. That medicine's gonna save a lotta lives... We gotta get whoever's out there to come out and play, but on our terms.  Ideas?

Matthews: If they’re in the magnetosphere and waiting for a ship to get close because they can’t ‘see’ them with their own sensors. :: He turned in his seat a little excited :: Captain, I’d suggest trying to hail the freighter again. I can be sneaky with it, the interference we’re already fighting and a non-standard starfleet communication channel could go unnoticed. We can see if anyone is able to answer before moving in.

Forza: ::swinging his chair to face Semara:: Captain I respectfully disagree. If we are going to get closer, we need to raise defenses around the bridge at the very least. I would also like to arm our torpedoes and phaser arrays. Raising that freighter means closing in at a very uncomfortable pace.

Amelia looked from one officer to the other.  One decision to another.

Semara: No weapons until we have a target.

That was what she decided on immediately.  Did Hobart suspect her opinions on violence?  The half-Betazoid would certainly know how desperately uncomfortable inflicting hurt and death was for an empath, but did he have an idea about her particular squeamishness on the topic?  If this weren't a simulation, she'd feel the life going out of her enemies even at this distance.  Perhaps that's what slowed her down on further decisions.

Zerva: Response?

Forza: Okay honestly what’s the worst that happens? They realize our weapons are armed? They could believe we think the freighter to be hostile, not realizing I would have aft weapons ready to go.

Matthews: If we can gather intel from the ship. We could confirm who we are dealing with, how many people we need to rescue, if the cargo is still on the freighter or the possible enemy ship. Which could make things more difficult.

Hobart: Forty minutes remaining, Mister Semara.

Semara: Thank you, commander.

She watched a flicker of irritation flair up inside her, but decided to let it go.  Either he was that wrapped up in his own timetable he didn't care, or he was intentionally trying to rile her to make a bad call.  Either way, the emotion didn't serve her at the moment.

And she had a pair of Ensigns to wrangle, besides.  Literally the whole point of this exercise was to show that she could.  She disliked repeating herself, but refused to let it show.  Forza was doing his job, and well.  He didn't have any way of knowing her personal opinions on the matter.

Semara: No weapons, Mr. Forza.  Helm, take us in.  Ensign Matthews, make it count.  I need to know who and what is on that ship.

Zerva: Response

Matthews: On the off chance that we do get detected, though. I’ll work on monitoring the sensors to see if we can spot where the ship might be. Zerva, think you can help me with that? I point, you shoot, sort of deal?

She liked Matthews.  She really did.  But just because she was nice to people didn't mean she didn't require a bridge with her ostensibly in charge to run on her command.

Semara: Just everyone relax, we don't know what we're dealin' with...

Zerva: Response

Amelia watched as the freighter got closer and closer.  The range was quickly ticking down without any new information - a distinctly uncomfortable situation.

Semara: Forza, defense fields, please.

Forza: Thank you Captain. Energizing defense fields.

A distinct throat clearing from Hobart.  Must he, really?  Fine, point taken.

Semara: Any readin's on the freighter yet?

Zerva: Response?

On the view screen, the freighter grew larger, and the planet smaller behind it, as they closed the distance on it.  Amelia found herself already looking at Forza when he gave his report, looking for the source of a distinctly sweaty-palmed feeling coming from his direction.

Forza: Captain, I’m detecting something.

Semara: Define 'somethin'

Matthews: Captain, I really think we should start hailing the ship. We can take evasive maneuvers to avoid enemy fire if a cloaked ship decloaks to fire on us. We have an advantage right now, especially if ensign Forza has found where the cloaked ship is hiding.

Amelia's lips twisted about, still uncertain.  There was so precious little to go on here.

Semara: Any risks?

Zerva: Response?

Forza: Well if it is cloaked, Klingon vessels do rely on a supply of something to keep their cloak online. If they’ve been cloaked for a long time, waiting for someone, it could be fluctuating.

Hobart: Thirty-five minutes.

She ignored him.  She hated being rushed.

Matthews: We don’t know for sure that there is still a cloaked ship out there. If there’s people on the Igloo that need help. We need to contact them, at least let them know we’re friendly. And if their attacker left them there to perish after taking the cargo, we’ll have to go after them.

One way or the other, they were close to a solid fix on "something" that seemed dangerous enough to scare a medical freighter.  Or that was the thought.  Whether or not the freighter was rigged was immaterial if it was about to blow up from weapons fire anyway.  If there were lives to save aboard, she wanted them safe.

Semara: Alright.  Matthews - Hail the freighter.  Zerva - bring us between the 'somethin' and freighter.  Quickly, please.  Forza, I'll trust your assessment that it's a possible threat.

Then again, if Enterprise herself were smithereens, there wouldn't be much saving to be done.  What was going on here?

Forza: ::closing his fist in a celebratory fashion:: Yes! Raising shields now.

Zerva: Response?

Forza: Arming weapons.

Amelia squirmed.  That hadn't been what she asked for.  Had she been that unclear?

Matthews: Well, here’s to hoping the Igloo doesn’t pick this up and assume we’re hostiles. :: He turned back to the com station and hit the ‘call’ button :: I’m going to try and get through to them now since there’s no reason to be stealthy.

Semara: Please, do.

She felt like she was losing grasp on the situation rapidly.  Where had she left it?  Was this why Captains became grumpy control freaks?  She felt she wasn't in a position to tell any of the Ensigns off - she was just as in the dark as they were.  So, again, she hesitated.

Zerva: Response

An alarm went out on the bridge.  Was it whatever was out there finally emerging?  No - Igloo was maneuvering.  Why?  What had they seen?

Hobart: Here she goes.

Amelia's heart dropped.  What freighter Captain would order a descent into the gas giant for no apparent reason?  Didn't they know it was a massive risk for any but the best equipped ships?

Semara: Ensign Matthews?

Matthews: Fibonacci Igloo this is the USS Enterprise, please respond. Fibonacci Igloo this is the USS Enterprise. Please cease descent into planet's atmosphere and maintain orbit higher orbit. Fibonacci Igloo please respond. This is the USS Enterprise.

Fibonacci Igloo: Mayday! Mayday! We’re going down!

Semara: Range?  Can we get a tractor lock?

It was too late.  Way too late.  She barely uttered the words when a silent burst of light flashed on screen, and the freighter started trailing smoke.  The ship listed badly, rapidly losing attitude control before the hull had a vicious bite taken out of it by atmospheric pressure.

Various holding tanks ruptured in what would otherwise be a quite magnificent fireworks display.  Then, for the grand finale, the whole thing just blew apart in a fireball of warp plasma.

She stared silently at the debris on the screen.  What just happened?

Zerva: Response

Matthews: So, was that a fail? Or do we get a second chance if the medicine wasn’t on the ship?

Forza: ::looking back at Richard:: Being the fact that the simulation is still going, and we don’t have someone yelling for the lights, I’m assuming there’s still more to do.

She nodded.  This wasn't over yet.  But where did she go from here?  What possible resolution was there to her losing a ship full of medicine?

Semara: Options?

Zerva: Response?

Matthews: I’ll send the report that the Igloo has gone down back to Starfleet. :: Richard turned to send that communication. Frowning, he reached down to turn off the earpiece, but didn’t make to put it back in ::

Semara: Thank you, Mr. Matthews.  But there's still somethin' here.  What's the deal with this sensor anomaly?

Hobart/Zerva: Response?

Forza: ::turning to Semara:: If I may?

She turned to Forza.  She had to smile.  There was something reassuring about his inclination to doggedly keep working the problem.  He could do to be a bit more direct under the circumstances, but it was otherwise an admirable trait.

Semara: By all means.

Forza: Obviously something isn’t right. What would a cargo freighter be doing sitting in the magnetosphere of a planet? Why didn’t they put out a general distress call if there was something wrong that they clearly couldn’t handle themselves?

Hobart/Matthews/Zerva: Response?

Those were good questions.  She could easily add to the list: Why would a cargo freighter incapable of descending into a gravity well do so?  Why is there a mystery reading not far off?  Why... Why... Why...  The list of mysteries was mounting without any evidence to back any theories.  One thing was for sure.

Semara: So we know our theory doesn't fit...

Forza: ::snapping his fingers:: Right?! Maybe we’ve been thinking about this all wrong. No weapons fire, no damage detected, no distress call, that weird blip that came in and out on my sensors. ::pausing for a moment:: What if it’s the area? Maybe an anomaly of sorts?

Sure.  It could be a million different things.  But for whatever carbon there was turning to diamond inside of Hobart's lower digestive tract (bless his heart), she seriously doubted he'd be so cruel as to give her a problem that required more time than he offered to solve.  It wasn't Forza's fault she was getting a bit frustrated with all of this, but frustration it was.

Semara: :: Really drawling :: I really don't think we have the ....

She stopped short.

Time.

oO Oh, I am such a fool. Oo

This wasn't a test of her tactical skills.  There were other exams for that.  No, the commander had struck on something much deeper and more intelligent than that.  How?  Same way she would have.  Sometimes it just takes someone else looking from the outside to see what you lack.  She had to respect that.

Semara: Oh.  :: Turning to Hobart :: Oh, you are so much better at this than I hoped!  :: A sudden grin, then standing up from the chair. :: Quickly.  Replay the explosion of the Igloo, and stream recorded subspace gradient interferometer readings alongside.

Hobart/Matthews/Zerva/Forza: Response?

She waited for the screen to do her bidding.  She had a theory, too long to explain, but she wanted one piece of evidence before enacting her desperate plan to snatch success from the jaws of defeat.  If she was going to fail, at least she'd fail for doing something spectacularly stupid, not fail for just sitting about and flouncing around on the bridge of the Enterprise like a pretty princess.  Even if that was what she really wanted to do.

Semara:  Pause playback!  Magnify, and overlay readings.

The screen zoomed in on Igloo as it was beginning to break apart, colorfully fuzzy three-dimension subspace readings overlaid.  She squinted at the readings.  They looked vaguely like a child's plushy being blown up, but to her scientist's eyes they communicated the shred of evidence she wanted.  Time to put her plan to action.

Semara: Someone tell me we're still trackin' that anomaly.  I want it localized.

Hobart/Matthews/Zerva/Forza: Response?

Semara: Good.  Power tractor beam, and get ready.  Arm photons.  Full display salvo, standard hexahedral grid pattern centered on coordinates of peak readings.  Fire!

She took a tone that brooked no further argument.  If she was going to be in command, she had to be in command.  No more milquetoast hemming and hawing.  She didn't care how they did it or how hard the command was to execute.  She wanted it done.

Hobart/Matthews/Zerva/Forza: Response

She watched as the twinkling string of orange-red blips of light streamed out of the Enterprise, spread out into a pattern, then detonated in a brilliant cloud of light and matter.  She squinted at the viewscreen like a hawk watching for prey.

oO Come on, come on!  Please be right... OO

Then she saw it.  The shadowy warbling distortion of a poorly maintained cloaking device unable to keep up with the rapidly changing surroundings of the torpedo fireworks display.

Semara: Lock tractor beam onto the coordinates of that shadow!

As soon as she got the words out, there was a blip on sensors, a stretched-out flash of light on the screen, and all that was left behind was a weird dark streak in the glowing trace gasses left behind by a ship going to warp.

The lights flicked on.  She sighed and settled back into her typically poised posture.

It was over.  And she'd still been too slow in the end.

Hobart/Matthews/Zerva/Forza: Response

She turned to face her crew and her commander.  She had some explaining to do on multiple fronts.

Semara: I think I can answer that.  Y'all grasped pieces of the puzzle, but didn't quite put them together.  Why hide?  Why no signals?  Why dive headlong into something you can't survive?  :: Beat :: They didn't want us to have the medicine.  They were makin' a transfer of the goods to a cloaked ship - prolly a Klingon cloakin' device installed on a pirate hauler it wasn't built for, which is why we got readin's.  We showed up, and they had to make a big show a' bein' in trouble, and disguised the transport of man and materials to the cloaked ship with the destruction of their own ship.

She shook her head.  The "answer" to the test was one thing.  Her actions were another.

Semara: But that wasn't the point of the test.  Commander Hobart figured, correctly it seems, I'm first and foremost a science officer.  Someone who collects data, checks and re-checks formulae, and observes ad nauseum.  But when you step into leadership, your job is to make decisions - with or without the data.  If I'd simply been more assertive, we prolly coulda just waltzed in and beamed everything from the freighter without even knowin' or carin' about the cloaked ship.  Worse, if it had been the obvious thing, that freighter woulda been lost with all hands.  As it is, I lost the medicine anyway.  I got stuck thinkin' there was a threat out there, and refused to budge without a hard answer.  The test's moral might be better summed up by a more competent Captain of this ship: "Risk is our business."

There it was.  She'd failed.  Yet she still smiled at the Commander: perhaps because failure isn't the same as defeat, or perhaps because she simply had enough experience with failure to take it with ladylike dignity.  If anything, she was quite impressed by his perception.  She hadn't expected it from a man who walled himself off as much as he did.

She wasn't entirely sure how (or even if) she'd keep her posting on Khitomer without her bridge qualifications, but this was hardly something a person got thrown out of Starfleet for.  Plenty of people weren't command material.  Besides, a single failure hardly meant she wouldn't get there... someday... if she wanted it.  It wasn't like she was so deluded to think she had all the answers for what a life in Starfleet took as a mere Ensign.  But then that's why she was out here.  To find out.

Hobart/Matthews/Zerva/Forza: Response

Tag/TBC...

Ensign Amelia Magnolia Semara

Science Officer

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0