The Right Tool

Posted on Sun May 12th, 2019 @ 6:28pm by Captain Benjamin Ingram Dr

Mission: S1E3: Moments Of Consolidation
Location: Station Operations
Timeline: MD6 1600PM

Ingram stood at the back of his office, looking out over station operations from its glass-walled vantage point. From here he could see everything of importance, and nothing that was better left classified as a needless distraction. One such distraction in his book was the enclave of Rish who had turned a fraction of the docking hub into their own little anarchist paradise: Cargo Reef.

Cargo Reef. What did that even mean?

And thrown into the mix was the first update from Starfleet Command and the expedited arrival of Expedition 3. The update was a mixture of technical modifications to the Phase Space Transceiver for higher bandwidth communications, and a security update concerning a growing problem within Federation space. And of course, the highlighted big ticket item on the Expedition 3 manifest under 'Personel'.

The door chimed, and he made a gesture with one hand that signalled it to open with a smooth hydraulic hiss.

"Lieutenant th'Zohan, right on time," Ingram said. "I do like an officer who understands the importance of punctulatiy."

The newly entered form of Theylan gave a momentary tip of his head in acknowledge as he entered the room in crisp, precise motions before coming to a halt and at firmly at attention, quietly waiting. His face showed none of his mood, but anyone whom was at least partially aware of the intricacies of Andorian antenna posture (and Theylan had a sneaking suspicion that Ingram did.) could tell the Andorian was, in a word, miffed. The blue-skinned thaan forcing his antenna to be still as he felt their shift in a manner he could only define as "twitchy" or "wriggly" for lack of better terms in Federation standard. A flexible language, but certainly limited in a myriad of ways.

Ingram spent an extra half second at the window, looking out over his domain, and then turned to the desk. From a draw, he pulled a small black cube that fit easily over the palm of his hand. He tapped out a complicated code gesture on a number of its face, and blue illumination picked out the edges of the cube. At the same moment, th'Zohan's combadge chimed a loss of signal warning.

"There, privacy screening," he said, setting the cube down on his side of the desk. "I always prefer knowing my subordinates can enjoy the honest opportunities of being forthright without fear of documented transcripts. Help's builds a little bit of trust. Now please, sit. Tell me what you thought of our unexpected tenant's down in the docks."

The plot thickens. Rang a familiar line from something he had read from the human library as he proceeded to come at ease and steadily ease himself into the indicated seat, placing himself down with mismatched eyes meeting those of Ingram. He would have admitted to not quite knowing about the little cube, though he would had admitted Ingram gave off the impression of a man that was imperiously confident and just as suspicious as he was.

Both factors he'd have to account for in future.

Though he had to admit, the fact that was not being monitored (supposedly) did bring a certain calm to the Andorian as he propped his arms onto the arm rests and threaded his fingers together. "To be frank, I like not their presence aboard the station. Transients with a culture based around such things will make security more taxed if only due to the raw number of minor, nonsensical things that will be taken up. To say nothing of their arrogance and entitlement in thinking our new home is somehow theirs to partake in. Their leader in particular is one of those grievance mongers that will be all too happy to appeal to the bleeding hearts amongst our number and certainly the less sceptical among their number. If the option exists to remove them I would recommend doing so with all due haste, if not then I recommend we thoroughly monitor their leadership and manage their numbers. I would find any "dirt" as it were on Bossa as well, find ways to control her or if possible replace her with someone more suitable that isn't keen to pontificate and potentially start conflict where none need exist."

"Huum..." Ingram said thoughtfully, settling into the chair on his side of the table. "It's as worse as I theorised then. The Rish present themselves as harmless travellers, itinerant tradesmen and entertainers. But in brash reality, you'll find them just as happy to use their skills in the name of their own self-interest than not. I've already had the Communications Section send a priority request for information on this Bossa woman and the ship Witch Of Endor. We must be careful how we handle this. For instances, your thought upon removing them from the station at the earliest possibility strikes me as...rash. Right now they are contained within the station, but should we give them the chance to scatter out into the Carpathia system and possibly beyond..."

Ingram drummed his fingers on the desk.

"Strikes me they could do more damage to our mission out here by leaving the station than not."

"It was simply my recommendation, Sir, in light of existing data." Theylan retorted as he folded his arms over his chest. "Of course, I hadn't considered that particular aspect to their nuisance." The Andorian rolled his tongue against his cheek. "As long as they abide by the rules of the station I will treat them like any other. But that Bossa woman.." Theylan's antennae twitched. "I've been a soldier longer than I've been a lawman, Captain. A discordant element whom is always eager to create needless drama and pit factions against each other pointlessly is always something I've been in a mind to remove as quickly as possible."

The antenna slowly turned outwards, seemingly moving in circular motions, pensiveness. "Perhaps we might adopt a rather old tactic of my thavey, cultivate understandings with those in power within the Rish whom might likewise dislike the potential problems Bossa might introduce. Good relations with profitable customers are the proverbial cream for traders and I imagine supporting those whom would wish such good relations with us might be another more subtle way of handling the problem. Of course, such guile is a bit a simple grunt's talents."

"A nuanced and cultured response, you are not the blunt instrument I thought were Mister th'Zohan. My apologies for the quick assestment of your station," Ingram smiled. "Meilin is blinded by the sort of sunny optimism that saw us wander into the Gamma Quadrant and muss up the plans of the Dominion without first preparing for the whirlwind that would follow. I do not intend for Canopus to be a rehashing of that little debacle. So whilst she tries to please all of the Rish, I would be grateful if you could investigate and insinuate yourself into the good graces of those who might chafe under Bossa's hand. The ones who might be more agreeable to cohabitation."

He tapped a finger on his desk.

"Huum. In fact, this works out rather nicely. The Carpathia System is home to a trio of asteroid belts. We've only surveyed them minimally with station sensors, but the readings are promising. If there is a member of Bossa's band who would like the opportunity to hold the monopoly on one of those belts for their kin, to be an independent source of resources for our expansion efforts and thus in our good graces above rabble-rouser like Bossa...I trust your judgement on that."

A white eyebrow rose, and an almost delighted gleam seemed to shine within the eyes of Theylan as likewise his antenna stood up straight.

"Yes..." began Theylan as he raised a hand to stroke his chin. "That will do quite nicely I think, Sir, rather nicely indeed." Theylan rose to his feet, placing his hands behind his back as he stood at ease. "I'll make a point of delving deeper into this issue, aside of course from the main issue revolving around the marines. My interrogations of them had provided some interesting details about why they might have so uniformly turned."

"As have our medical scans," Ingram said. He reached out with a spidery hand took the cube back into the desk draw, the 'off the record portion of the meeting having come to a conclusion. He then made a summoning gesture to the rooms holographic system, and the layered cauliflower folds of a brain appeared over the desk. With another wave of his hand layers vanished, until a knotted, bifurcating black filament could be discerned. "The fungus the away team discovered in the temple on Xilos, the same fungus the Marines were exposed to in their poorly planned sortie, acts as a delivery system. It infects a host through a myriad of vectors and passes through the blood-brain barrier with little trouble."

He stood, walking to the end of the desk, and gently turning the discested holographic brain around.

"But its shorted lived, and upon being exposed to certain neural chemicals begins to secret a self-assembling nanotube lattice. That's the black tendrils here. In truth its the assembling of the filaments that sparks off psychosis. And once the fungus dies off, the implanted nanotubes remain, having wired together the centres of the brain associated with religious euphoria and higher tribal thinking. Think of it as rewiring the brains Identify Friend/Foe setting," he leaned in close, a smile on his lips. "A fascinating piece of biotech to be sure. A single shuttle flown over a population centre spraying out a litre of this fungus, and you'd have an army inside of a day ready to slaughter its closest love ones. In fact that very well might have been the case according to the Xilosians. The more I hear of these Concordance fellows, the more I imagine them to be a much larger problem for us than the Myriad the Traveller harped on about."

Theylan leaned forward, scrutinising the hologram before him with a keen eye, mismatched eyes dancing over the display as he raised a hand to stroke his chin.

"One has to admire the subtlety of it, to say nothing of the masterful use of what already exists. You don't so much compel a being as simply slightly tweak the existing components and make rather subtle suggestions, if even that." Theylan couldn't help but give a faint "hmmmph", his head bobbing back for a moment. "I can picture a few Cardies and Romulans that would positively adore getting their hands on such nanotech, would have made managing their populations mere childs-play."

Theylan folded his arms over his chest. "At the risk of sounding overly hopeful, would the Medical Department have any means in inoculation or protection?" The Andorian asked, brushing his fingers against the bite mark on his cheek that was still healing beneath the dermal regen patch, an extra precaution by the good doctor as it were. "Or at least, do we know what other vectors of transmission exist? I don't much relish the concept of falling under the proverbial spell of these Concordance."

"So far looking over the Engineering Module's log's show shoddy decontamination processes were the main culprit. The Marine's hard shell armour was covered in dust spores from the surface, and given the bio-scanners on the transporters weren't keyed the identify the dust as harmful it spread into the ventilation system. Seemed to enjoy growing in the air filters, which tells you something of the length they've gone to weaponise this pathogen. You could touch the dust without too much hue and cry, but breath it in, or allow it to enter via a careless gesture or open wound, and you'll be in for a bad day," Ingram said and wiped his hand through the hologram to cast it away.

"I think in our dealings with the Concordance we must practise caution as a watchword. From what the Xilosian's told us, the majority of their problems in their final war wasn't' so much the Concordance's technological superiority, but the sudden appearance of infected traitors in their rear lines. They developed a testing kit to weed out the infected, should be easy enough to program it's chemical markers into a com badge biomonitor," he said thoughtfully. "Of course, when the Beta Phase Space Accelerator is constructed and online, we will need to ensure our custom's checks include a full medical screening. Something like this, returning to the Alpha Quadrant. I have troubling thoughts about it taking root on Canopus Station, could you imagine the domed cities of Adaracion? Or Mars? Not to mention our friends in the Alrakis Pact. I believe this faith implant tech is going on the prohibit export list."

"Couldn't agree more." Theylan replied as he stroked his chin. "Not to sound inordinately paranoid, but then that is what you pay me for. Should we also potentially have screens and checks of any traffic coming in and out of Canopus space just until we're absolutely certain this technology is either properly contained or at the very least completely understood in such a way that we can remove it in the event someone is affected by it? I have enough with this space-born rats on my station, and as much I will admit to enjoying putting our fellow marines in their place, I dislike the notion of having to deal with any co-opted soul whom is clever enough to engage in more subversive activities." Theylan jaw tensed for a moment as he mulled over some thoughts. "As I understand it we are to be deploying a detachment of Wallaces are we not?"

"Indeed. Four of them came in with the Expedition 3 task force, along with the fast resupply ship Please Read The Instructions. They came with crew's assigned, but given they are less starship than orbital patrol vessels, they fall under the auspices of Station Security. A Coast Guard, if you will," Ingram mused. "And yes. So far the medical team's have not come up with a method for safely removing the implant. Its size, placement, and...reaction to the intrusion of medical devices is startling. Private McKinny, the Marine you interrogated on the Resolute, is currently in a medicated coma following an abortive procedure to remove his implant. Some sort of thermal overload I'm told. This technology and other's will be added to a list I want to be enforced stringently."

"Consider it done." Theylan offered, turning his thoughts towards the young marine. Granted, what he had said about him and ilk being traitors and what he would have done to said traitors still stood. However, the Andorian liked to think in this crazy galaxy full of strange, magnificent wonders and equally terrible horrors that there was room for some measure of redemption in such unique cases. The thought causing the recently mauled flesh on his cheek to itch as he raised a hand to scratch at it out of instinct. "Getting those ships out into space with patrols and stringent boarding of any vessels will help, with fully laid out biohazard gear and whatnot and permission to stun any whom try to not co-operate or outright disable the ships. I may admit to a certain zealous quality to my work but I rather keep it to that than have to start offering the option to our crews to destroy uncooperative vessels given the danger of the hazard."

"Well right now traffic to the station is somewhat short, but once we are secured in our place here...who knows? We'll need to begin planning patrol routes for the ships. The three asteroid belts...huum, we'll need to come up with some names for them I suppose, will need patrolling. If only to make sure the miners and refineries don't end up getting in trouble," Ingram smiled. "Get to know the skippers of the four patrol ships. Consider them part of your duties as Chief of Security for Canopus Station. But do recall your duty is to the Station, and not to play acting the part of the gallant captain on the high seas. Or would that be an Ice Jammer on the wastes of Andoria?"

"Wastes?" Theylan squawked, looking at Ingram as though he was either mad or a heretic, one of the two. "Most respectfully, sir you know nothing of Andoria's beauty." Theylan retorted, raising an eyebrow though keeping a smirk on his lips. "That said, I'll make it a point of priority, though will privately lament I shan't have an opportunity to don a Shipmaster's hat."

"All in due time, Mr th'Zohan. All in due time," Ingram intoned.