Morning Rush Hour
Posted on Sun May 5th, 2019 @ 11:14pm by Captain Benjamin Ingram Dr & Petty Officer 1st Class Keth Soban & Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang
Mission:
S1E3: Moments Of Consolidation
Location: Canopus Station, Station Operations
Timeline: MD7 7.15AM
The floating holographic logo of Starfleet, the Long Jump Program, and the trio of corporate sponsors to the mission floated silently above the main display table. They then flickered and faded away, replaced by a status update listing the date, time, and important items of note.
The most important being that Ritter was time for a meeting Ingram was late for.
When the turbolift stopped, Meilin stepped out with a spring in her step. Just moments ago, she had denied entry to a certain captain whom she had pretended not to hear. Watching a turbolift door close shut in his face had a certain symbolic justice to it that kept a smile on Meilin's face.
"Good morning," she said in greeting to Ritter. Noting the pips on his collar, she added, "sir."
Ritter had made damned sure he'd gone over the manifest, with mug shots. He'd made even more certain he was on time for the morning briefing, his uniform impeccable, his latte fresh and still steaming, armed and ready for first impressions. So upon the Chief Science Officer's arrival, he set down his coffee and made sure to put on his friendliest, most earnest smile. "Good morning! You must be Commander Jiang. I'm Commander Wolfgang Ritter, the new XO; it's an absolute pleasure." He advanced, extending a hand for a brisk shake.
Noting the aggressive posture of the man, along with the slight cant to his chin and the forced grin that teased the very beginnings of crow's feet along his eyes, Meilin realized she was dealing with a first-class schmoozer. "The pleasure is mine," she replied with a much more subdued smile. When she met his hand, she rolled her wrist so that her hand would be over his, knuckles protruding upward. Would he capitulate for an underhanded handshake or would he assert dominance in their opening gesture? Meilin's eyes danced with anticipation.
"Can I get either of you anything? Tea, coffee?" The voice behind the two of them sounded meek, nervous, as though stepping into the opening gambits of a conversation might somehow lead to a maiming injury. The owner, on the other hand, looked like he could provide many an interesting assortment of maiming injuries. At seven feet tall the large felionoid crammed into a Starfleet uniform looked out of place, with his big emerald eyes overflowing with a confusing amount of emotions. HIs hands were knotted together, wringing with enough force to make little claw tips pop out.
"I mean if you don't want coffee or tea I can get you something else. Some orange juice, or blood wine, water, karkatan pulp, pineapple," he took in a little breath. "Its sort of my job, being the Captains Yeoman. But I thought, 'Hey! It would be nice to help others', and I saw you two here and thought I could help you. And I am, well I'm trying. You can tell that right? I should have brought a padd with a menu on it. I will next time! I seek self-improvement!"
Ritter had experienced enough indignities over the last twenty-four hours that the war of the handshakes was ground he was more than prepared to concede. He had bigger fish to fry, after all, than worrying about being tested by one of the senior staff, and not so much as a flicker of disapproval even glanced his expression. What bothered him more was the subdued reaction, because he hadn't gotten as far with his tricks without knowing when they weren't working. He'd have to dial this down a notch.
But then came the interruption, and Ritter stepped back, giving the yeoman another grin as he retrieved his latte. "I picked up a little something on the way, thank you, but that's very attentive of you," he told the Huanni approvingly, and tried to stop his eyes gleaming. "What's your name, Petty Officer?"
Keth's pupils dilated, and possibly loose paper clips and stationery supplies were momentarily tugged towards the vast black spaces where his eyes had been. There were mysteries in those eyes. Dark and terrible secrets the likes of which the waking world was not meant to know.
"He wants to know my name," came out just within the hearing range of most mammals, but rang up into the ultra sonic's as Keth's ruff of fur puffed up in the excitement and he launched a hand out to grab Ritter's hand. The hand holding the latte. Both hand and latte vanished into the fuzzy mitt as Keth enthusiastically shook the commander via his arm. "I'm Petty Officer 1st Class Soban, and I have just got to say what an absolute honour it is to be working with you, Commander Worf! I heard so much about you when I was at the academy, you were an inspiration of cross-species acceptance and can do attitude! And I always said that if I ever got the chance, I'd shake your hand!"
Misconceptions and foamed caffeinated milk went everywhere.
As much as Meilin was enjoying the floor show, she stifled her amusement in order to ask a much needed question. "Do you know where the captain is, Mr. Keth? We were expecting a morning briefing."
"Did I forget the morning briefing?" Keth's shaking of Ritter's hand ended suddenly, leaving a silence so devoid of sound each individual drop of latte hitting the deck sounded like a cannon shell. "I don't think I was meant to host of briefing this morning? I mean I know I had a briefing planned for the new arrivals from the Starfleet Corp Of Engineer's, a sort of 'Welcome to Messier 4'. I have slides, and shadow puppets because you can't have too many teaching aids for information dissemination."
"I believe Jiang was talking about me, Mister Soban," Ingram said, stepping out of the turbolift from the tram station a few decks below. "I apologise for the tardiness, maintenance work on the Blue Line."
The commander of Canopus STation walked up to the holo table, and then looked at Ritter's latte spattered shoes and the side of the table he resided on. He then looked at Keth, putting together a few of the clues.
"Mr Soban, I believe Commander Ritter might be thankful for a cloth. Please see to that, and then begin prioritising any comm's traffic that came in during the night. Station, Starfleet, Colonial, Miscellaneous. You know the preference order," he said. The big cat on campus nodded, released Ritter's hand and his take away cup of crushed latte, and bounded (some might say literally) away to fulfil his task. "You have my sympathy Wolfgang. Keth is better described as an experience one lives through, or with."
Ritter only slowly withdrew his hand from where he'd been frozen in the shake. Slowly, because he wanted to be dead sure every ligament was still attached, and still he had to fight the urge to massage his upper arm. Or whimper. Any of the meticulously crafted appearance he'd scraped together for this best impression first thing in the morning had almost shattered, his expression one of slowly dawning horror. So all he could manage was to croak, a pitch or so higher than he'd have liked, "It's fine, sir. Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Captain," Meilin offered. It seemed the floor show might take a different turn.
"Yes, yes indeed it is," Ingram said and...well on anyone else's face it might have been called a mirthful smile. He looked genuinely happy, the way people were when there was an actual reason to be glad the world was turning. And whilst it was still within the realm of possibility that someone had brought a bathtub to Messier 4 large enough to drown in, where had Ingram got the sack full of kittens? That had to be the only logical reason for it.
He flicked a hand at the holo display, highlighting a few items on the rotating events queue.
"With the arrival of the USS Please Read The Instructions we can begin to think about system infrastructure. She's a modified Curry class fast fleet supply ship, and if you look at her service record her crew has something of a pedigree. The orbital mirrors above Sharyia, the domes of Androcion, not to mention the rebuilding of the San Francisco Fleet Yards after the Dominion War. Just the sort of people you want helming a long term project as Long Jump Phase Three," Ingram explained, his fingers moving in the air signalling the computer to play a short animatic.
Canopus Station moved into view above Carpathia, a little out of scale but gleaming none the less. Trailing behind her appearing a trio of doughnut-shaped torus station, their hollow cores festooned with a kilometre long sunlight focusing mirror network. And then behind them the beginning of the skeletal sprawl of a shipyard, all branching out like ice crystals.
"Phase 1: Arrival. Phase 2: Foothold. Phase 3: Settlement. Its how we settled the moons of Jupiter, and the Trojan Worlds of Tau Ceti. This is our moment," Ingram said with a certain note of pride. "Mr Ritter, perhaps you could high light some of the problems such a fix installation as this could pose. I'm sure myself and Miss Jiang will pipe up if anything goes over our heads."
Ritter was too busy massaging his hand to not have the briefest shot of venom in his glance at Ingram before he advanced, giving himself a moment to study the display. "My first concern, in a sector such as this, is security. Protecting a sprawling and fixed installation such as this is no small task and I'd want to re-evaluate our CAP in such a light. The station itself won't be able to provide full coverage. And if the arrival of the station itself wasn't a statement that Starfleet is here and serious, then this expansion will be, to anyone who cares, so there are political implications.
"Further, it would be agreeable to assume projects like this will always run to schedule and without setbacks. Realistically we should be prepared for the possibility it will be necessary or useful to allocate further resources or staff to this construction, either to overcome setbacks or if we want to speed up the process. And you cite the pedigree of the crew, which is indeed impeccable - but not for frontier operations such as these, where our support is not limitless. I recommend regular contact with and updates from the work team to make sure they've been flexible under these circumstances."
Ritter did pause at last, either the pain or his welcoming mask long gone as his brow furrowed with honest thoughtfulness. But then he looked to Ingram, gaze rather bland. "Infrastructural engineering is far from my area of expertise, though, sir, if you'd be good enough to elaborate on some of the more practical problems I've overlooked." Games of chess-ego were being played in his head, and Ritter had realised from one meeting that he was going to have to be prepared to sacrifice the odd pawn here or there and keep his eyes on the prize.
"I think you knocked the problem square on the head, Mister Ritter. The Elysian Agricultural Stations and the Pollux Ship Yards will extend our presence from a foothold into the springboard of Starfleet's push into extragalactic space. Should we become cut off from the Milky Way, we must be prepared to support own survival. To that end you pointed out we would need to think of a large strategic picture, extending our coverage to include the entire lunar system of Tangerine Dream," Ingram made an expanding gesture to the hologram. The map of near vanished, shrinking into specks of dust as a simplified map of the gas giant Tangerine Dream and its many moons appeared.
"I want you thinking about shore batteries. Tangerine Dream is home to a dozen airless moons in its outer orbits, all of them fit for the stationing of torpedo launching facilities on their surfaces. Canopus has the means to manufacture flat pack launchers, and with Engineering producing antimatter for the fuel bunker, we have the beginnings of an arms manufacturing base," Ingram pointed to a few of the moons. "Placing sensor station there as well would also give us a much more comprehensive sensor net than we have now."
Ingram looked at Meilin.
"What says the science department? An early warning network would make for a large and dispersed radio telescope a half million miles across. Not quite the Midas Array, but it'll do until the purpose-built array is shipped here."
Meilin wet her pursed lips and kept a tight almost-smile. The egotistical interplay between the two of them was far too delicious for her to interrupt. "We could do worse," she said. "And I like the idea of keeping our people off the frontline of any hypothetical assault on the station. Perhaps we should consider a minefield around sensitive areas as well." They were more a deterrence than anything, but that was just as well in her book.
"Minefields would be a pleasant stopgap measure. But we must take in to account the Myriad's ability to usurp computer control. Leaving us with either mines that are manually activated and have no friend or foe identification system, or a field of explosive devices that can be turned on us," Ingram thought aloud.
"The worst the Myriad could do is make the moat around our castle more effective." Meilin opted for use of medial European imagery to appeal to Ingram's inner blueblood nobleman. "At best it prevents sneak attacks, which means we can rest easier and focus our attentions to where they're needed most."
"Indeed," Ingram said with an imperious nod. "We'll send a request to Starfleet for the fabrication plans for spaceborne mines. We can use the runabouts or our guard ships as minelayers. Now onto the resource gathering aspect of Phase 3. I've directed elements of the station to seek engagement with the Rish in regards-"
The Op's centres lights dimmed, and the planning hologram vanished as a warning klaxon filled the air. The once simply detailed map of Carpathia was replaced with a much more detailed oribital picture, with the courses and lines of all of the artificial bodies currently in near space projected. Canopus was present, as were the geostationary runabouts being used as comm's relays. A flight from one of the four fighter squadrons stationed aboard were also on the plot.
And rising rapidly from the desert moons surface was a bright green triangle of an unknown contact.
"Ship rising from the surface. Power source readings suggest it's building up to a light speed jump to warp," one of the quick-footed sensor techs reported. "And...I'm detecting multiple combadge signals aboard."
Ritter gave himself a heartbeat to study the map, a heartbeat to think. They were important, those moments. They cost little and gave a lot by way of decisiveness, of calm. "Direct the CAP to intercept, but weapons hold." He squinted at the display to try to ascertain if the unknown ship was in range of Canopus' weapons or transporters; what their window was for such reach, then glanced to Ingram. He'd given the instruction on the CAP without factoring in his new captain, but his appetite for the political games was fading with the claxon. Still, he had no need to be overridden publicly, which he had no doubt Ingram would do if it suited him.
When he spoke to the captain his voice was lower. "Should we try hailing them, sir? Ship and the commbadges?"
"Is the vessel within tractor range?" Meilin asked. "We may need to deploy the Resolute."
"They'll never clear the port before that thing clear Tangerine Dream's gravity well and goes to warp," Ingram muttered as a soft blue sphere projected out from Canopus Station, failing to engulf the fleeing ship. "And they're skirting the atmosphere, just out of range."
On the holo map, a pair of snow white arrow were a vector in on the fleeing spacecraft. A lucky break had put part of the Close Air Support in the right area to intercept effectively, and the pair of Mk3 Gryphon space superiority fighters were burning vacuum hard.
"Comm's, open a channel to that ship. All radio frequencies, all subspace bands. I want his filling's hearing us," Ingram command as an echoing open line tone filled the air. "Unidentified vessel, you have broached controlled air space. Our scanners have also detected a number of our people on board. We request you halt acceleration, and await the arrival of our interceptors to escort you back to Canopus Station. Comply, and you will not be harmed in any way."
"As tempting as that might be," came a wet, throaty voice that sounded ripe with spital and phlegm. "I must decline your invitation. I have pressing matters your arrival above this world has kept me from, and your crew will make a fine recompense with those who expected me."
"Enough of a recompense to outweigh gaining my ire?" Ingram asked the air. On the map the two fighters were closing in, nearing weapons range. Ingram held down the mute key, "Meilin, try to contact the away team."
Meilin slid around to the comms console. The Network Interface Controller was already prepopulated with the com signals detected by the sensors, which was handy. Every second counted. "The NIC managed to create a passing connection, but the signal is broken up as by distance as much from interference. I don't know if two-way will be possible since they can't boost the gain on their end. Attempting try to clean up the distortions."
"This is Canopus Actual to survey team. We have detected your capture and are preparing a response. If you can respond to this message, do so as soon as you are able. Canopus Actual clear," Ingram again prompted the air. From the crew stations behind them, an officer with the white undershirt of Starfighter Command stepped up with a comm's headset perched on her ear.
"Sir's, Wyvern 3 and 4 are about to enter weapons range of the fleeing ship. Their current trajectory and course will give them at least three attack runs against it before the target clears the gravity well and can jump to light speed. What are your orders?" she asked.
"Order them to target its engines and life support," Ingram instructed before looking at Meilin and Ritter. "It's close enough to the station we'll have rescue craft to it before there's trouble. And if their life support is crippled, our friend won't be able to run far. Worst case he'll have to ditch on Carpathia."
Meilin nodded her approval. It was a sound strategy for maximum effectiveness and lowest risk for loss of life. "That minefield would prove rather useful right about now, wouldn't it?"
"Oh go build a time machine," Benjie hissed. This sarcasm was matched the garbled hiss of static from the open comm link. A word or two without context would push through the static. 'Well-armed', 'enemy', 'Carcosian'. Without more the words were simply sounds in familiar cadences.
"Fighters have entered weapons range.," the flight control reported.
=/\="Canopus Actual to away team, brace for incoming fire."=/\= Ingram intoned gravely, and then nodded at the flight controller. "Open fire."
Ten thousand miles across the orbit of Carpathia, the fleeing cargo vessel and its purloined guests rode a glowing tail of plasma to pull itself free of the gravity well. The pair of Mk3 Gryphons, not requiring the high energy burn of escape velocity, slowed on their approach marginally. With their chisel shaped noses, and wide wing's, they resembled hawks flaring right before the attack as they opened up on the alien vessel. Phaser bolts rained across shields that arced with snapping electrical discharge, but within moments the fighters had made their first pass and were arcing around for another.
As they did so, Gasatrox's ship responded. From its side, an armoured hatch opened, and a stubby six shot tube launcher protruded. In a puff of compressed gas, a pair of missiles were jettisoned into space and were soon nothing more than a high gee firefly. The Gryphons broke off the second attack run, and began an evasive dance as the two missiles dodged and danced around in chase. The first broke apart, becoming an angry swarm of smaller submunitions that failed to connect with its target.
The second swarm missile did not miss.
"Wyvern 3 is hit! Multiple hits! Space frames come apart, have a read on the suit beacon. Assigning S&R to retrieve Wyvern 3."
The air within station ops was frigid, as their local air power had been reduced in half. The second fighter was peeling away to a standoff range hopefully beyond the missile envelope of the cargo ship.
"Deploy a work bee to recover missile shrapnel," Meilin said, ever thinking on her feet. "That projectile ordnance should not have been enough to overwhelm the Mark 3's deflector."
"More than likely it wasn't just a kinetic impactor," Ingram sighed as he watched the holo map. The small cargo ship passed through a dotted line in space and was suddenly replaced by a vector diagram and ranging data: it had made the jump to warp speed. "Track that heading and bring the main sensors to bear on it directly. I want the Resolute out on a hunting expedition."
He looked at his two subordinates.
"Lieutenant Commander Jiang, you are familiar with the Resolutes systems from the recovery operation. Commander Ritter will need your help to come up to speed," his attention turned to Wolfgang. "Find our people, and make sure the denizens of Messier 4 understand the price of kidnapping my officers. We can fit another pair of Gryphons into the Norway classes shuttle bay to match its original compliment. Should let you throw above your weight class."
Meilin set her jaw but said nothing. Taking the Resolute to Xilos on a scientific survey while recovering the prodigal modules was one thing. Deploying the Norway class vessel on a rescue operation with clear search-and-destroy overtones was quite another. She wanted to get her people back, but declaring war on Messier 4 was not the way to do it. She merely nodded to the two men and left for the station's docking area.
Ingram turned his attention to Wolfgang.
"She cannot imagine the larger picture here, a limit to her mode of thinking," he said by way of explanation. "Right now we have had our noses bloodied. Responding with a show of force will see that others do not take the same advantage. I assume I can entrust this task to you to follow through, should our Chief Science Officer prove unable to stomach it?"
Ritter's expression had remained impassive through all of this, and now when he looked at Ingram gone were any of the undertones of that wrestle for control or dominance. Cold eyes met the captain's and he nodded. "We have an accord, sir. The right application of pressure now may pave the way for our diplomacy and exploration to go unfettered in future. We'll fit the Gryphons in and find our people."
"Good Mister Ritter, good," Ingram said, returning his attention to the master holo plot floating in the air. "Let's be about it, shall we?"
