((Crew Quarters, Deck 6))
With the tangy scent of calcium thick in the air and the ambient temperature set at a perfect 873.15 kelvin, Gra'vel was finally able to relax and enjoy her spa day. It was a bit of self-care recommended by Counselor Brodie, who had noticed the texture of some of her outermost crust had become uneven and pitted during their last session. For a creature predominantly made of meat and water, he could be surprisingly perceptive. Gra'vel could feel the tension easing between her plates, small tremors rippling across her surface as she allowed herself to spread out.
Ever since joining the Federation abruptly in the 2260's, the new generation of Horta had come to know the strange beings of the Federation and the far off stones to which they burrowed. It had fascinated Gra'vel even when she was only a small collection of pebbles, hardly more than a few cupfuls of energetic sand looking to tunnel where no Horta had tunneled before. So far she had tasted the rich flavors of many worlds, spread across the Federation and recently as far as the Gamma Quadrant. She was sure to be the first among her people to claim such an honor. Unwinding to the pleasant sound of eleven overlapping continental plates oscillating through magma, Gra'vel had nearly fallen into a rest cycle when her specially constructed combadge chirped to life. It was a summons to a mission briefing, something that would've excited her to the point of impolite volcanic eruption on most days. With a shiver of stones that amounted to a sigh, she reset the environmental controls to something less lethal to her roomate Todd, who was sitting in his bunk in an EVA suit reading a padd and trying not to look uncomfortable. She liked Todd. He was quiet and rarely left clothes around, especially since that time she had accidentally immolated his dress uniform.
Rolling herself under the uniform applicator, Gra'vel waited a few seconds until she had a nice even coat of gold all along her outer shell. She rolled to the wall and affixed her combadge by brute force before headed out the doors and into the hallway, deftly avoiding the fragile appendages of her colleagues.
((Engineering Lab 2, Deck 20, USS Thor))
Like all the spaces aboard this ship, the lab was far too big by Gra'vel's standards. She could never really get the feel of a place until it was quite literally pressing down on her, so the humanoid need for vast cavernous hollows in their vessels had taken a while to get used to. Fortunately they had designed one major element of the ship with the noble Horta in mind. Gra'vel had no idea who Jefferies was, but his tubes were a work of art. Claustrophobically small and endlessly winding, Gra'vel had often worked off the stress of a difficult day with a vigorous roll around the lower decks.
Johnson: Heya Gra’vel, good to see you this morning. Greetings, Lieutenant. I hope the day finds you amenable.
Sirok: Good morning, Captain Greaves will be arriving shortly for the briefing.
Gra'vel slid to the side of the room, comfortably out of the way but still in an easy position to see and offer her feedback.
Greaves: Good morning everyone. Sorry for the sudden assembly of the team, but our mission changed already, and we've got a new problem to deal with. Seems a century old ship lost in the Klingon-Federation war is suddenly transmitting a distress signal… from far beyond the edge of Federation space.
Her shale shuddered suddenly.
Johnson: Wait? From an old ship lost a hundred years ago? Huh. Do you think there are survivors that somehow got it working against after a hundred years of being broken, or somehow something got triggered?
Gra'vel activated the translator built into her combadge.
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel would be very happy to dig into this mystery, but which direction should we cut our tunnel? =/\=
Greaves: That's part of what we're tasked with finding out. The distress call is just an automated homing signal. No message, and we're having a tough time pin-pointing its location. The bridge has it narrowed down to a small area of space with a few class M planets. Our job is to find out exactly where, and more importantly, what happened to it.
Sirok: As we get closer the signal will be stronger, but we can send more power to the sensors to temporarily improve the resolution. From the type of frequency used it looks like mid 23rd century. Any ideas in case that's not enough?
Johnson: Ideas. Hm, let me ponder over this a minute.
Gra'vel's sidebolders rattled, deep in thought. She thought of the textures inherent to a ship of that age, of things she had learned in Academy history classes.
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel is certain we can erode this problem into sand. =/\=
Greaves: Well, in this case, I'm a bit out of my element. That's why we've assembled a team of some of starfleet's finest engineers to work the problem… (pause with a grin). You all. If you think that's a good place to start, let's get after it.
Sirok: What we have at the moment... The signal corresponds to a Starfleet ship, the USS Excalibur, Cardenas Class. They were reliable ships for their time.
Johnson: Sir, if we realign the secondary communications relay and remodulate the subspace analyzer, we could possibly triangulate the position of the signal - at least narrow it down to a smaller sector. Fewer planets to scan if nothing else.
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel agrees Chief Sirok. Cardenas class hard as granite. Old ship hull has many alloys, unnatural flavors, not good at hiding. Easy to smell the difference. Ships sensors can help. =/\=
Greaves: Responses
Sirok: Very good Johnson we are going with your idea to improve the signal. Also we can confirm the readings by looking for hull alloys on the planets surface, perhaps traces of antimatter without even part of the warp drive or in their containment tanks. I do not know what the impact must have been like but however they had to hold on there would be no emergency signal to send.
Johnson: Realigning now sir, give me a moment and I’ll surt the remodulation as well.
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel will sift the sensor data for strange metals. Gra'vel will tell you if there is anything to excavate. =/\=
Greaves/Sirok: responses
Gra'vel rolled to one of the side consoles in the lab and activated her combadge uplink. It let her work with the ship like any member of the crew, although she doubted they would've appreciated her lackluster spelling. As humanoids tended to do they began vocalizing about the upcoming mission.
Johnson: I have to admit, I’m curious to know what happened to get the ship all the way out there, especially during a war.
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel believes they were fleeing. Not even hatchlings are foolish enough to tunnel ahead blindly. =/\=
Greaves/Sirok: responses
Johnson: Alignment and modulation complete. Shall we give it a try?
The computer vibrated an acknowledgement, the metallurgical signatures of the Cardenas class loaded into their lateral sensor array.
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel is ready to burrow into the data. =/\=
Greaves/Sirok/Johnson: responses
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel digs this idea. Captain Wes Greaves, Gra'vel must apologize again. Thank you for letting me try piloting one of the Valkyries. Please tell Lt. Singh Gra'vel is very sorry for...bending it. =/\=
Greaves: Response
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel thanks you. If you ever need any minerals, just let Gra'vel know! Gra'vel just got some delicious yttrium shards from home. Gra'vel has enough yttrium for everyone! =/\=
Greaves/Sirok/Johnson: responses
Her outer shell shuddered with the sound of a small avalanche. Gra'vel was laughing.
Gra'vel: =/\= Gra'vel thinks that is very funny, but lanthanum gives Gra'vel the pebbles...::The computer vibrated, a datastream finally coming in::...Sir, Gra'vel is getting readings of metallic fragments...they're leading into the system. =/\=
Greaves/Sirok/Johnson: responses
Tags/TBC
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Petty Officer First Class Gra'vel
Portable Henge
USS Thor - NCC 82607
Commodore A. Kells, Commanding
V239509GT0