USS Vesta

A Play-by-Nova roleplay game.

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Phoenix

Posted on Tue Jun 30th, 2020 @ 10:12am by Commodore Yoshi Minawara

Mission: Back Post
Location: San Francisco Fleet Yards
Timeline: August 1st, 2385
1440 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure

100 Years.

Almost 100 years to the day the USS Excelsior had launched from this dock. In 100 years many things had happened. The Federation had warmed relations with the Klingon Empire, becoming almost brothers. The Romulans had reentered the global stage. The Federation had encountered and defeated the Dominion in war. The Borg had arrived, been driven off, arrived again, and been driven off again. They had explored, intentionally or not, the Delta and Gamma Quadrants, encountered whole new civilizations, developed technology beyond the comprehension of many of the engineers who had worked to finish the Excelsior right here. Even the concept of recycling dilithium crystals in warp was something they wouldn't have grasped for another twenty years. Much had changed.

And now it had changed again.

Four months ago the unprovoked attack by rogue synths on Mars had lead to the complete dissolution of synthetic life research. Many holograms had been stripped of their personalities, their ability to function beyond their specified task completely stripped. This was the surface level problem of course. Mars was on fire, many of the environmental domes destroyed and raging fires spreading across the planet. Much of Utopia Planetia had been destroyed, and with it, the relief Fleet for Romulus. A massive countdown clock to the loss of the Romulan homeworld, mixed with chaos and panic. How would the Empire survive? Would they? What was the Federation going to do, the Klingons? Barely a decade since the end of the Dominion War and the Federation was up and abandoning a lot of its relief efforts, leaving the Cardassians on their own to try and stop the worst humanitarian crisis since the war.

Then there was the reason Lieutenant Commander Minawara was standing there. Fifteen drone tugs were pulling the... wreck? Space frame? blank slate? What did one call the remains of the Vesta that was being pulled into dock. As the ship pulled through into its berth, the man got a good look at it finally. Along the hull were long gouges and scorch marks, signs of the damage that had been done. The ship had been crewed during the attack, and they had managed to escape their clamps and get away from the majority of the damage and tried to rescue people. It hadn't succeeded much before it had run out of auxiliary power in its batteries and had been forced to drift until a rescue team arrived a few minutes later.

Rather than try and evacuate the ship, the team had dragged the hulk into orbit of Phobos. Some emergency generators were attached to the ship, and it had been used as a stationary hospital, it's medical facilities intact enough to be useful. That had been its use for a month until there was really nothing more left to do for Mars, and the Vesta was left there for two months while decisions were made. Talks of the Quantum Slipstream Project being used to bring some hope to the Federation citizens made sense, to give people a dream to work on. At the very least to keep the minds of the people who had not been at UP at the time free from the thoughts of what had happened. The lives lost, the panic and chaos. Yoshi himself had been dealing with those thoughts, the what-ifs and the "who's to say"s. Ewan was, after all, sleeping in his guest room still.

Forteen hours.

That was the difference between the time he had looked Alice in the eyes and said "I do" and the time of the attack. Aeron Klans had stood behind and to the left of him, and Ewan just behind him. It had been a rather surprise affair, the pair having decided to be exclusive but unmarried had gone on long enough for them, and with friends so close had been happy to surprise them with a wedding. It had been a small affair, family, some close friends, and a few members of Brass who had insisted on stopping by. Dinners were had, a reception, and Alice and Yoshi had danced on the side of the ocean overlooking the Pacific sea. The Cherry blossoms had bloomed late, making for an almost picturesque set of photos. Aeron had, drunkenly, proclaimed that the Federation was headed in the right direction, that they would be a beacon of hope. None of them had expected the news the next morning.

Ewan's team was gone, the research facility was one of the first places to go. Yoshi had seen the videos of the facility after the Synths were shut down, seen the debris field. Nothing had survived that. And while the main habitation ring had survived the attack itself, without people to recover it and restore power?




Minawara hated spacewalks. Hated the slow, clunky movements that came with it, and hated the feeling of weightlessness. That said, there was no real safe way to repressurize the hull with all the micro breaches that had formed. It was going to take months to get the hull patched enough to be useable, and probably another month after that to get a real gravity on the ship again. Still, power had been shunted into the batteries, just enough to open doors and clear vent pockets of atmosphere. No lights though, aside from the odd emergency light that was triggered by a misaligned power relay. This mean that as the engineer floated through the empty corridors, it was only his headlamp that illuminated his way, letting him inspect things in great detail, but also to cast long shadows fit for a horror holonovel. Having entered through the main shuttle bay, five decks up, Yoshi had moved through the empty Jefferies tubes, and was now prying open the main doors to the Engineering facilities of the ship. They groaned open, separated as they were from the main door control meant that they weren't given power. They fought the whole way, and when the hole was finally big enough for the man to fit through, he squeezed in and drifting into the room itself. He finally got a good look.

The three levels were dominated by the central FTL Tower, as his team had called it. The lower two were the main warp core, which controlled the Matter/Anti-Matter Reaction, the warp field, and so much more. The upper deck was dominated by the experimental Quantum Slipstream Drive. The two parts were inseparable but could be operated independent. Kicking off the deck, the Lieutenant Commander drifted up to the core and latched on one of the rungs around it. Pulling a tricorder from his waist, he began to scan over the frame and containment, and to his surprise (and pleasure) he found there was no signs of undue wear from having been adrift and forgotten for so long. In fact, it seemed to be the most well-preserved piece of hardware on the entire ship. Pulling a small power core from his belt next, he pushed up to the top of the core, near where he found the main access controls. Plugging the core in he began to pull data off the console, and let it download to his tricorder. Leaving the pair of devices floating, he kicked off again and drifted to the core, not scanning for anything, but letting his mind wander around it. A piece of tech, captured when an attempt to doom the crew of the Voyager had failed, looked poised to be the most advanced piece of technology in the entirety of Starfleet. The possibility of returning to the Delta Quadrant, or even the Gamma Quadrant, to rekindle those relationships, and to move forward.

The Federation was reeling from the worst attack on domestic soil since the Dominion War, and it was a scar that was going to take time to heal. But this right here? The chance to explore the stars again, to truly get back to peace and to make up for it all. This wasn't a solution to all the problems, far from it, but every solution starts with a great base, and maybe being able to travel and help people fast, maybe that would be the beginning of this solution. He had no idea where this ship would go, who it would encounter, and what changes would happen, but perhaps the Captain of this ship could make a difference. Maybe they could spread a little hope.

His tricorder beeped to indicate it was finished and he pushed back up to grab it. He had too much work to do to sit and daydream.

 

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