LCDR Nolen Hobart — Gott Problems
Nolen Hobart
((Cargo Bay A24, Main Module, Deep Space 33))
Hobart: Everybody, this is our base of operations. Whatever resources you need to gather for your tasks, you can store them here. I’ve isolated access to this team, so let’s help each other out as much as possible. I’ll be here with Ensign Matthews. Good luck.
Zenno: Everyone, I’m also told that there will be an operating base at the Warrior Sports store, if you need a place to regroup.
Jacin / El’Heem Response
As the two Lieutenants walked off, Nolen sensed some mild disappointment from Matthews, followed by excitement. The man seemed to turn on a switch as he pulled a PADD from his pocket and began to review it. As El’Heem and Jacin set to confer, the Ensign addressed them.
Matthews: Okay, I can get you a map of the base if you don’t have one, looks like there’s a close medbay to start work on the inoculations. Or to grab the equipment to bring back here to start on it. ::Richard glanced around the rather neat space, for a cargo bay.::
Jacin / El’Heem: Response
Nolen nodded to the pair. Their judgment in the matter would be far better attuned to the practical considerations of the situation than his would. He then looked to Matthews, who seemed as if he had more to say.
Matthews: And since we don’t have a ship for evacuation or, ::He squinted at his PADD.:: or anything more than standard shielding? ::Growing a little more concerned as he spoke.:: Minimal phaser coverage? There’s less than a hundred torpedoes listed here on the inventory! ::He looked up at the commander.:: Sir, when this is over, I want to have words with whoever runs this place.
Nolen nodded, again. He’d already become familiar with the state of the station and its defenses after the brief conference between Khitomer’s ceremony and its departure. He wasn’t being untruthful when he expressed his confidence in Commander Raga’s abilities around organizing an improvised defense of the station, but he was all the while grateful that the task didn’t fall to him. His goal was to get people off the station and then blow it up, and from a certain perspective, he counted behind him the Ambassador’s full support and cooperation in the latter objective.
Hobart: We’ll burn that bridge after we’ve crossed it, Ensign.
Matthews: Okay, this is fine, back on track. Since we don’t have the support for shuttle evacuation if the enemy fleet gets here. Only a few shuttles and fighter wings. ::He glanced at the FO, Hopefully.:: I don’t suppose you have engineering experience, sir? I have a ‘fun’ idea.
Hobart: I wore gold before I wore red, Ensign.
His voice did not hide his skepticism. It was true, he was the Arrow’s engineering officer before he was its executive officer. And, of all the engineering staff on the old girl, Hobart’s professional philosophy leaned closest to the descriptor “fun.” But when it came to Starfleet equipment, an engineer’s and a Science Officer's respective definitions of “fun” were usually frighteningly far apart. While an Engineer was likely to enjoy the exploration of the various laws of physics in amusing ways, a Science Officer’s idea of fun inevitably meant defying them outright.
Matthews: Okay, hear me out – we could probably beam a shuttle or two. What about beaming them and the fighter wings as far as we can, to give them a head start?
Hobart: ::eyes narrowed:: When you say “beam…”
Jacin / El’Heem: Response
It was a crazy idea, and Hobart got the sense that Matthews had proposed it with the specific hope that it would be shot down. Loathe was the XO to kill an officer’s creativity, but the logistics of the matter groaned in his mind. The shuttles would be pressed into combat, most likely. And trying to pluck them out of the chaos of a space battle and deposit them with crew and new passengers some distance away would require the kind of precision that he wasn’t sure the station’s sensors were capable of, and the kind of practiced skill he was certain they didn’t have time to develop.
Matthews: I am also open to playing with the transporters to throw things at our attackers, like a makeshift slingshot since some brilliant individual, whose already made questionable defence choices, might have turned off the torpedo launchers too!
Now there was an idea. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t on them to come up with clever ways to confound the enemy, except insofar as doing so might aid an evacuation. Nolen stroked his chin in contemplation.
Hobart: What would you need to fake some biosignatures?
Jacin / El’Heem: Response
In the midst of formulating a plan that involved launching escape pods crammed full of ferns and flowers plucked from the station’s Arboretum, with false signals to replicate humanoid lifesigns, Nolen was interrupted by a harsh blaring and flashing of red lights. He felt his heart sink into his gut. A "red alert" sounded different on a starbase, but it was unmistakable all the same.
Hobart: ::grimacing:: What are the odds somebody shot a bowl of mashed potatoes?
Jacin / El’Heem / Matthews: Response
Hobart: ::tapping combadge:: =/\= Hobart to MacKenna, what’s going on up there? =/\=
MacKenna: =/\= Response =/\=
Nolen held his breath as she explained in her typically curt way. Whatever elegant (if wacky) plan they hoped to accomplish, they’d have to shelve it. There simply wasn’t a way for them to do it in under an hour. Nolen had to think on his feet, and his eyes met Matthews, whom he could tell was doing the same as he listened in.
Hobart: =/\= Understood. We’ll need every cubic meter we can find. Have Stergis lock down every freighter, shuttle, and luxury yacht dumb enough to still be in the system. ::snapping his fingers, struck by an idea:: Or greedy enough. Use my name. Hobart out. =/\=
Jacin / El’Heem / Matthews: Response
Nolen took a deep breath and looked around. He would have liked more time to brainstorm. The transporters would have to be the way forward, because there wasn’t time to come up with a better plan. He looked around the empty compartment before finally looking at Ayemet.
Hobart: Lieutenant, this entire station is going to be blanketed by a dampening field to inhibit boarding. But it also means we have work to do before we can beam anybody out. Get pattern enhancers set up all around the perimeter of this room.
Jacin: Response
He turned his attention to Matthews.
Hobart: With modification, the cargo transporter here will move people at a faster rate than the transporter rooms. Safely, more or less. I’ll send out a stationwide notice for evacuees to come here when you’re ready.
Matthews: Response
And finally, to Doctor El’Heem.
Hobart: Can’t have you running around the station now. Keep working on preparing the inoculations, but organize it here. Tag anybody who comes through those doors. We'll unlock them as soon as we're ready.
El’Heem: Response
Just then, as Hobart pointed toward the still-locked accessway to the cargo bay, there rang from it a loud pounding sound. Not the professional rap of a Starfleet officer requesting access, nor the panicked slapping of a civilian fleeing for their life. But the angry beat of a person with a bone to pick. And Nolen knew exactly which person it was and exactly which bone, though he was somewhat surprised at how quickly the man got there.
Wordlessly, Nolen set the others to their work and made his way toward the door at a casual pace. He couldn’t sense anything from the other side, which only confirmed for him exactly who had come calling. With his thumb pressed against the door controls, Nolen watched them part to reveal a very upset Ferengi therapist.
Gott: Response
Hobart: You know, I thought to myself, if there was one Ferengi on DS33 who was sure to suck every last stinkin' strip of latinum out of Starfleet before he ran from an impending attack, it'd be you, Doc. You're a testament to your people.
Gott: Response
Tags/TBC
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Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart
Executive Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A240001NH3