Lieutenant Amelia Semara - Here Be Dragons

[Max]

(( Briefing Room, Deck 1, USS Khitomer - near the Ceram Archipelago ))

Thank the heavens there was a replicator in the observation lounge, because Amelia was hungry.  At least the second and third courses of the dinner she'd prepared never even made it out of stasis and could be salvaged.  And all the snacks laid out in her quarters were less perishable - they'd be fine, too.  Maybe there would be some clever way to use the transporter to screen out all the microbes from the poor grilled fish left behind...  Why didn't she just bring it along?

She sighed, speedily slurping down a sort of dairy-based fruity-nutty-granola mix a Human might have recognized as skyr-adjacent, but was a quick, tasty and nutritious way to make sure her brain kept working for the duration of the mission.  That was assuming her brain could be considered to be working in the first place after the disastrous little performance she'd just put on for Ras.  At least he wasn't mad with her.  He should be.  She almost wanted him to be mad.  It would have made it easier, because then she wouldn't have to wonder what she'd say to him next.

The rhythmically yellow-tinted doors opened, and Amelia carefully wiped a stray bit of food from her rouged lips, and put the dish back into the replicator.  A second later, she was politely curtsying to the highest-ranked person on the ship.

Semara: Admiral Nicholotti, Lieutenant Jun- :: Cutting herself off. :: Lieutenant Amelia Semara, at your service.  How do you do, ma'am?

Yup.  Definitely not working at full impulse.

Nicholotti: Response

A little smile cracked open at her lips.  Even the highest of admirals had been Cadets and Ensigns once upon a time.  Being an Admiral meant lots of promotions and lots of opportunities to accidentally demote one's self after each one.  The smile broadened a little seeing the third and final of their number join, spots and all.

Zerva: Response?

Semara: I s'pose we'd best be startin' then.

Good thing she spent the warp out here reading everything there was to read about this region of space.  Now all she had to do was try to recall it through the haze of muddy meditations about a boy.  Easy, right?  She threw up an image on the conference screen, because who needed pretty purple nebulas to look at when there was Lattice Alliance to fret over?

Semara: Ten days ago, Starfleet intelligence detected two Lattice dreadnoughts and various support vessels on a course for the Ceram Archipelago.  Nine days ago, we saw signatures consistent with Sencha weaponry along the nebula's perimeter, but only a fraction of what a force that size can do.  Seven days ago, the Alliance started lightin' up this nebula with every long-range sensor they got.  Five days ago, they stopped lookin'.

Nicholotti / Zerva: Response

Amelia moved to the window, figuring it was a nicer thing to look at than some computer-generated little graphic that made war look like a sportscast.  The various arms of the nebula were huge by themselves, but the vast main body made them look tiny by comparison in the window.  It could have hidden an entire system.  Or even several.

Semara: The nebula we're lookin' at is nigh impenetrable to scans.  Starfleet has a long history explorin' - our sensors are vastly better than Alliance scanners, and even we get almost nothin' from it.  I doubt the Alliance found anything.  But we also got somethin' else they don't: friends.

Her body turned away from the window towards the Admiral and Zerva.

Nicholotti / Zerva: Response

On the bridge, their concern was probably the Alliance.  In this room, however, they were meant to mull over the hypothetical menace that ate the enemy's fleet.

Semara: The good news is the Diplomatic corps managed to talk to some a' the locals.  Traders, a passin' Kressari probe... Even got somethin' out of the Gentii.  The bad news is it ain't intelligence as much as old spacer folktales.  Everyone avoids the Archipelago these days, apparently.  They say those who enter thinkin' they'll find riches apparently only return with stories 'bout livin' ships two kilometers wide, massive ion storms that leave ships adrift to starve, and most of all tales of a strange species that lurk there.  :: Taking a seat for a sip of water. :: That's the common thread in all the yarns: a ferocious apex predator species a' some kind.  There's precedent - the Hirogen, for instance - but the unique bit to these stories is that they all agree on one thing: the predators are matriarchs whose favored prey is men.

Amelia smirked for a moment.  It seemed slightly ridiculous to her at first.  How would a species even identify male and female in an alien that may or may not even have such distinctions?  Then again, she could usually tell pretty quickly how someone identified and favored empathically, at least in broad strokes.  Like Ras.  He was a man who favored... Nevermind.  Best not think about that, and let the Admiral and the Lieutenant come to their own thoughts and questions before presenting the even flimsier "intelligence" Amelia had available to her.

Nicholotti / Zerva: Response

Tag / TBC...

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Lieutenant Amelia Magnolia Semara

Intelligence Officer

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0