USS Vesta

A Play-by-Nova roleplay game.

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At the Gates

Posted on Wed Oct 25th, 2023 @ 2:58pm by Rear Admiral Yoshi Minawara & Captain Ewan Darrow & Commander Martin Sorenson & Lieutenant Njalia Sayffier & Lieutenant M'rrina

Mission: Shakedown Shake-Up
1132 words - 2.3 OF Standard Post Measure

If you had been a member of the Federation expedition to the Delta Quadrant along the Graviton Catapult network, you would be familiar with the timeframe it took to travel between the two locations. At an average velocity of six hundred light years per hour. In theory, at full operation, it would take slightly more than a day to arrive at your destination. In a ship designed to ride along this pocket of self-contained null space would find the transit fairly smooth.

All of this assumed, of course, that you were a) a Federation ship prepared for this trip, and b) everything had been set up correctly. For Vireon, neither of these things were true. Instead, he found himself strapped to the cockpit, safely secured in it's pressurized system but unable to move from where he was. His suit was enough to keep him alive, but the violent shaking and shuddering had bounced his head a time or two off the interior bulkhead. There was little doubt to him that he was concussed, and found himself wavering in and out of consciousness. He knew at some point he'd blacked out for sure. The interior computer was unhelpful, as the system at one point had gone into safe mode to ensure that the main life support and safety systems were kept online.

He had no idea how long he'd been in transit, the empty void lacking the stars many were used to in warp. The ship shook violently, and his head once again bounced off the surface, and he felt his mind start to slip. Just as he began to fade out, he could swear he saw some light from somewhere...

Njalia was cycling through the sensor bands, trying to make sure that everything was working how it should when an alert flashed up. "Captain, we are getting an incoming warp signature, coming in fast, very fast," she said, her fingers flying over the controls. "Trying to get more information, it seems like a small craft, no immediate matches."

Until that moment Martin been idly scanning through a padd, waiting for Ewan to arrive and relieve him of (fairly boring) duty. Now his head snapped up. "Yellow alert." Given their luck so far, it seemed almost a minimal level of reaction. "On screen."

The command had barely been given when the main screen went from star field to a bright flash and pulsing ripples of distortion that quickly dissipated, leaving only a strange small craft, obviously battered and bearing scorches across its bow.

"Life signs?" Martin demanded, rising from the conn, hand reflexively going to the medkit he always carried.

"Scanning," answered Njalia. "One faint, probably injured, That was a rough transition out of warp." She frowned and quickly ran some checks. "This is odd, it is broadcasting a Federation transponder signal, from a shuttle last inventoried at Iota Station? But that is definitely not a standard shuttle."

Iota Station? That's a name I haven't heard in a long time... The thought along with the state of the craft immediately brought up memories of the casualties from the Great Race gone wrong. "Mr. Marocain, bring us within transporter range." Martin tapped the comm. "Security and medical to transporter room one." He ground his teeth at not being able to run to join them. Even with the personality upgrades, he hated the idea of a badly injured alien being left to holographic medics. "Captain Darrow to the bridge."

"The ship seems uncontrolled and drifting," reported Njalia. "Lt. M'rrina, any responses?"

"Nothing so far." M'rrina's ears flicked independently of one another, tracking multiple channels at once with a set of discrete earpieces that let her take advantage of some of her species natural abilities to localize sounds. "Signal should be going through, just no reply."

The doors to the turbolift opened and Ewan walked through them, mug in hand, as he returned to the bridge from his briefing meeting on what could be done to fix their current structural issues. "Report." He ordered as he moved down into the centre of the bridge and the command chair in the middle staring at the screen which showed smoking and damaged shuttlecraft in front of the Nelson, drifting without power of its own to direct its travels.

Something about the shuttle seemed familiar to Ewan, he had seen the design language before somewhere. A man who had designed starships for a living once, he never forgot the styling of a particular races designs, each unique to their own circumstances and culture.

"From the readings, I do not think the ship arrived under its own power, sir," said Njalia. "There is no power system on the craft capable of generating a warp field."

"Considering it seems to have a transponder from Iota Station, that's worrying." Martin tipped a brow at Ewan, knowing he'd know the station as well. "I thought everything there had been decommissioned and disassembled. However, there's one life sign, faint, and given the condition of the vessel, likely in need of emergency aid."

"Iota.... Iota, Iota, Iota." Ewan muttered to himself as the ship glided closer to the powerless shuttle, That was a name he hadn't heard in a long while not since just after the Vesta had returned from the Delta Quadrant and before their transfer to Obsidian Fleet. The ship hadn't run into many species that weren't ones Voyager had run into before, but the most notable had been... "Well fuck... The Republic." He said to himself as he turned to Njalia, "As soon as we transport the pilot to sickbay tractor that shuttle in. I want you to grab an engineer, Jack or whoever he can spare and strip the computer of anything of value data wise."

NJalia commed for an ensign to take over the Operations panel. "On it, sir," she said sliding out of her chair. She gave a set of instructions to the ensign and headed for the turbolift. Once inside, she tapped her combadge, "Engineering . . ."

Ewan turned to Martin, "Martin... as Executive officer and leading expert on their species for medical purposes, you get the honour of second contact with the Republic of the First World."

"Thank you!" Martin all but ran to join Njalia in the turbolift. The leaders of The Republic had not been particularly pleasant to deal with, so he was prepared for a difficult patient - provided the pilot was even conscious. That didn't dampen the sense of relief and release at being able to return to being first and foremost a doctor. (There was probably something wrong with feeling almost happy about a medical emergency, but that was something to talk to a counselor about later. Provided they ever got one).


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