Lieutenant Drex - Dry scan
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Drex Drex
Feb 28, 2026, 4:11:35 AM (4 days ago) Feb 28
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((San Francisco District – StarBase 118 Ops))
Drex’s hand clenched briefly, water dripping from the edges of his sleeves onto the street. The endless rain, the thunder that rattled the district, the impossibility of it all, it was starting to grind on him. He could feel the flicker of frustration rising, sharp and insistent. He had gone to sleep in his mother’s house on Denobula. That was the last clear memory he possessed. He had never left the system in his life. And yet he stood here, soaked to the bone, on a StarBase he did not remember boarding, surrounded by people who spoke of lost years as if that were a common inconvenience.
Drex: Why don’t you give a call to whoever can reach the weather control room and ask if they can make the sun shine?::The irritation slipped through despite his effort to keep it contained.::
Wethern: Until we get somewhere quieter no one can hear the comm links in this weather.
Voss: I imagine there’s a very good chance that the people in the control room have forgotten how to make the sun shine anyway.
Drex: If they have forgotten basic environmental operations, then the scope of this disruption is significantly worse than we assumed.
They continued their wet, sloshing trudge toward the access conduit when a small river of red crossed their path. It seemed to come from around the corner up ahead. Drex stopped frowning, then looked at the doctor as if asking for explanations.
Wethern: I hope that isn't what I think that is.
Lyra groaned at the implication.
Voss: If that’s blood, I swear to all the Four Deities, I’m gonna barf or freak out or both...
Drex: There is no metallic scent. ::He flared his nostrils and sniffed the air::
They hurried around the corner to find two giggling cadets and a replicator disgorging a truly monumental amount of red slushie. Drex identified it before his eyes fully registered the scene.
The scent hit him first: aggressively sweet, artificial cherry syrup cut with crushed ice and overheated replicator coils. To his Denobulan senses it was almost blinding, a thick sugary cloud that clung to the back of his throat. Cherry, undeniably, not blood.
Wethern: Hey, replicators aren't toys beat it!
Voss: ::with a shrug:: Cola slushies are better anyway.
Drex: At least no one is injured. Though someone will be responsible for that mess.
Wethern: Looks like ages isn't a factor.
Voss: That’s a scary thought. What’s happening to like... *kid* kids then? Babies? They don’t have that many years to lose.
For a brief moment, Drex did not answer. The rain, the storm, the absurdity of forgotten years, none of it unsettled him as much as Voss’ question.
Denobulan children developed in tightly interwoven family structures; cognitive growth was nurtured deliberately, collectively. Early neural formation was not just biology, but it was identity taking shape. If something interfered there... it would not simply erase memories. It could alter who they were meant to become.
Drex: If neural development is interrupted at formative stages, the consequences could be permanent. Infants may not simply lose time, they could lose structural progression.
The thought unsettled him more than he allowed it to show.
They finally made it to the access conduit and stepped into the dry alcove like a group pulled from a flood. The relative quiet felt jarring after the storm.
Drex paused just inside the shelter and ran both hands down the front of his uniform, smoothing the soaked fabric in a futile attempt at order. Water streamed obediently toward the floor, dripping from his cuffs and hem in steady rivulets. He tugged once at the collar, then brushed at his sleeves as if discipline alone might dry them. The result was unimpressive at best: the uniform clung stubbornly to him, darker with saturation and faintly wrinkled.
Wethern: We should be able to access a terminal here and also dry off a bit.
Drex: Good. We should run the ferroniobium scan while we have stable access. Environmental interference has already complicated our readings.
Voss: All right! So we need the right ratio of iron and niobium for –
She was cut off when another figure stumbled into their narrow shelter.
Anethra: Excuse me?
She was shivering, and visibly confused.
Voss: Uh, hi there?
Drex stepped aside immediately, creating space within the narrow alcove and gesturing her further in, away from the rain still lashing the corridor outside.
Wethern: ?
The woman looked at all three of them with furrowed brows.
Anethra: Could you perhaps tell me where I am? I believe I am quite lost... this planet doesnt look familiar to me.
Voss: Right, so, we’re not in immediate danger, but... something has been causing people on the station to lose their memories. Or, well, not *lose* actually, because they’re still there, but we can’t access them, so it’s kinda one and the same. Oh and also, this is a station. Not a planet. A space station.
Wethern: Response?
Drex: It’s... how they say it.
Anethra: I’ve been walking for quite a while... nothing seems familiar.
Voss: ::nodding toward Drex:: Yeah, we don’t remember any of this place either. It seems like everyone is losing a different amount of time. I thought I was back on Betazed in 2399, but turns out I’m four years off. It’s 2403.
Wethern: Response?
The architect nodded.
Drex: My last clear memory was retiring for the night in my mother’s home on Denobula. I have no recollection of arriving here. However, procedural knowledge remains intact. The memories appear present, access to them is impaired.
Voss: We suspect the memory loss could be linked to some kind of artifact that’s putting out a signal that disrupts brain waves. Where were you when you noticed something was wrong?
Anethra: ?
Voss: ::to Wethern and Drex:: We should run the ferroniobium scan while we have access to the terminal, but after that, maybe we should try to track down where... ::to the Rekarian:: sorry, what’s your name?
Anethra: ?
Voss: Right, hi. I’m Lyra. ::back to Wethern and Drex:: Maybe we can track down where Anethra was when this started? It’ll be useful information for the heat map, at the very least.
Drex: My name is Drex ::To Anethra::
Instinctively, the Denobulan stepped toward the terminal. His fingers seemed to know better than he did what needed to be done. He typed his Starfleet identification code to unlock the screen and stopped. He could not quite remember the code; uncertainty prickled at the edge of his mind. He partially turned his head toward Wethern.
Drex: There’s any medical explanation to this?
Wethern/Anethra: ?
Drex: Not immediately. But we can start by scanning the local ferroniobium flux. It should give us a preliminary map of signal intensity across the station.
Wethern/Anethra/Voss: ?
Drex leaned closer to the console. He selected the proper scan parameters, carefully calibrating for anomalous energy signatures, and initiated the ferroniobium sweep.
Drex: Scan initiated. It will take a few minutes to render a full heat map. In the meantime, we can begin cross-referencing the memory disruption reports with station layout data. Every data point we collect will improve our probability of isolating the source.
Wethern/Anethra/Voss: ?
The architect leaned closer, eyes narrowing as the heat map began to fill with flickering points of light.
Drex: The scan’s picking up a few irregularities... These could be interference nodes or at least areas where the signal is strongest.
Wethern/Anethra/Voss: ?
TAGS / TBC
Drex’s hand clenched briefly, water dripping from the edges of his sleeves onto the street. The endless rain, the thunder that rattled the district, the impossibility of it all, it was starting to grind on him. He could feel the flicker of frustration rising, sharp and insistent. He had gone to sleep in his mother’s house on Denobula. That was the last clear memory he possessed. He had never left the system in his life. And yet he stood here, soaked to the bone, on a StarBase he did not remember boarding, surrounded by people who spoke of lost years as if that were a common inconvenience.
Drex: Why don’t you give a call to whoever can reach the weather control room and ask if they can make the sun shine?::The irritation slipped through despite his effort to keep it contained.::
Wethern: Until we get somewhere quieter no one can hear the comm links in this weather.
Voss: I imagine there’s a very good chance that the people in the control room have forgotten how to make the sun shine anyway.
Drex: If they have forgotten basic environmental operations, then the scope of this disruption is significantly worse than we assumed.
They continued their wet, sloshing trudge toward the access conduit when a small river of red crossed their path. It seemed to come from around the corner up ahead. Drex stopped frowning, then looked at the doctor as if asking for explanations.
Wethern: I hope that isn't what I think that is.
Lyra groaned at the implication.
Voss: If that’s blood, I swear to all the Four Deities, I’m gonna barf or freak out or both...
Drex: There is no metallic scent. ::He flared his nostrils and sniffed the air::
They hurried around the corner to find two giggling cadets and a replicator disgorging a truly monumental amount of red slushie. Drex identified it before his eyes fully registered the scene.
The scent hit him first: aggressively sweet, artificial cherry syrup cut with crushed ice and overheated replicator coils. To his Denobulan senses it was almost blinding, a thick sugary cloud that clung to the back of his throat. Cherry, undeniably, not blood.
Wethern: Hey, replicators aren't toys beat it!
Voss: ::with a shrug:: Cola slushies are better anyway.
Drex: At least no one is injured. Though someone will be responsible for that mess.
Wethern: Looks like ages isn't a factor.
Voss: That’s a scary thought. What’s happening to like... *kid* kids then? Babies? They don’t have that many years to lose.
For a brief moment, Drex did not answer. The rain, the storm, the absurdity of forgotten years, none of it unsettled him as much as Voss’ question.
Denobulan children developed in tightly interwoven family structures; cognitive growth was nurtured deliberately, collectively. Early neural formation was not just biology, but it was identity taking shape. If something interfered there... it would not simply erase memories. It could alter who they were meant to become.
Drex: If neural development is interrupted at formative stages, the consequences could be permanent. Infants may not simply lose time, they could lose structural progression.
The thought unsettled him more than he allowed it to show.
They finally made it to the access conduit and stepped into the dry alcove like a group pulled from a flood. The relative quiet felt jarring after the storm.
Drex paused just inside the shelter and ran both hands down the front of his uniform, smoothing the soaked fabric in a futile attempt at order. Water streamed obediently toward the floor, dripping from his cuffs and hem in steady rivulets. He tugged once at the collar, then brushed at his sleeves as if discipline alone might dry them. The result was unimpressive at best: the uniform clung stubbornly to him, darker with saturation and faintly wrinkled.
Wethern: We should be able to access a terminal here and also dry off a bit.
Drex: Good. We should run the ferroniobium scan while we have stable access. Environmental interference has already complicated our readings.
Voss: All right! So we need the right ratio of iron and niobium for –
She was cut off when another figure stumbled into their narrow shelter.
Anethra: Excuse me?
She was shivering, and visibly confused.
Voss: Uh, hi there?
Drex stepped aside immediately, creating space within the narrow alcove and gesturing her further in, away from the rain still lashing the corridor outside.
Wethern: ?
The woman looked at all three of them with furrowed brows.
Anethra: Could you perhaps tell me where I am? I believe I am quite lost... this planet doesnt look familiar to me.
Voss: Right, so, we’re not in immediate danger, but... something has been causing people on the station to lose their memories. Or, well, not *lose* actually, because they’re still there, but we can’t access them, so it’s kinda one and the same. Oh and also, this is a station. Not a planet. A space station.
Wethern: Response?
Drex: It’s... how they say it.
Anethra: I’ve been walking for quite a while... nothing seems familiar.
Voss: ::nodding toward Drex:: Yeah, we don’t remember any of this place either. It seems like everyone is losing a different amount of time. I thought I was back on Betazed in 2399, but turns out I’m four years off. It’s 2403.
Wethern: Response?
The architect nodded.
Drex: My last clear memory was retiring for the night in my mother’s home on Denobula. I have no recollection of arriving here. However, procedural knowledge remains intact. The memories appear present, access to them is impaired.
Voss: We suspect the memory loss could be linked to some kind of artifact that’s putting out a signal that disrupts brain waves. Where were you when you noticed something was wrong?
Anethra: ?
Voss: ::to Wethern and Drex:: We should run the ferroniobium scan while we have access to the terminal, but after that, maybe we should try to track down where... ::to the Rekarian:: sorry, what’s your name?
Anethra: ?
Voss: Right, hi. I’m Lyra. ::back to Wethern and Drex:: Maybe we can track down where Anethra was when this started? It’ll be useful information for the heat map, at the very least.
Drex: My name is Drex ::To Anethra::
Instinctively, the Denobulan stepped toward the terminal. His fingers seemed to know better than he did what needed to be done. He typed his Starfleet identification code to unlock the screen and stopped. He could not quite remember the code; uncertainty prickled at the edge of his mind. He partially turned his head toward Wethern.
Drex: There’s any medical explanation to this?
Wethern/Anethra: ?
Drex: Not immediately. But we can start by scanning the local ferroniobium flux. It should give us a preliminary map of signal intensity across the station.
Wethern/Anethra/Voss: ?
Drex leaned closer to the console. He selected the proper scan parameters, carefully calibrating for anomalous energy signatures, and initiated the ferroniobium sweep.
Drex: Scan initiated. It will take a few minutes to render a full heat map. In the meantime, we can begin cross-referencing the memory disruption reports with station layout data. Every data point we collect will improve our probability of isolating the source.
Wethern/Anethra/Voss: ?
The architect leaned closer, eyes narrowing as the heat map began to fill with flickering points of light.
Drex: The scan’s picking up a few irregularities... These could be interference nodes or at least areas where the signal is strongest.
Wethern/Anethra/Voss: ?
TAGS / TBC
============
Lt. Commander Drex
First Officer
USS Eagle-A
D240011D14
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