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Post by pscotty90 on Feb 24, 2020 1:25:56 GMT
A bright, repeating flash of light illuminated the dim confines of the cockpit. The main flight controls, usually powered and showing the status of the shuttle to a precise degree despite the ship's age, were dark. The soft hum of the engines and life support systems were now silent. Sitting in the pilot's chair was the unconscious and barely breathing form of a humanoid. A man with the soft and handsome features of a human in his mid-thirties but with the subtle, trident shaped crest that ran from the top of his nose to the crown of his skull. Smooth, well kept hair was lightly gathered at the back of his head as it drooped backwards across his seat's headrest. Behind his seat was stacked a series of instruments and scientific samples which gave away the man's profession. 'Doctor heal thyself' was a phrase that would have been unknown to him in his native language, but he would no doubt have found it ironic had he been told. As the shuttle gently drifted in the coldness of space, the silhouette of a large, saucer-like vessel slowly blotted out the light of the pulsar behind it. A kind of ship that the occupant of the shuttle had never seen before...
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Post by Tom Marsland on Feb 24, 2020 2:51:51 GMT
Crew,
I hope you've been able to get some rest and had some quiet time the past three weeks. We've been assigned a diplomatic mission to meet with Gorn Leadership. They've admitted to some internal strife that potentially has spilled over into Federation and Talarian space, and claim a rogue faction is responsible for the loss of the Lexington. We've been tasked with attending the conference on Cestus III and figuring out what we can. En route, we'll be doing scientific surveys of a pulsar along our route.
NAV: Continue on course to Cestus III once the pulsar surveys are complete.
XO/CTO: We'll need to make sure we have good security for this conference.
ALL: Make sure your dress uniforms still fit.
That is all.
Commander Tom Marsland Commanding Officer, USS Zorya
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Post by pscotty90 on Mar 22, 2020 23:30:57 GMT
There was a dull thump of a headache around Dr. Kal’s temples as he continued to stare at the computer console in front of him, as he had done for the last few hours. With a number of the Zorya’s crewmembers contained he had returned to checking the medical records of the other remaining races who were posted aboard the ship. Fortunately, none of which had any apparent reaction to the Phage.
It wasn’t that the Phage was necessarily something that would kill in a matter of hours. If any of the Zorya’s crew had contracted it from him then they likely wouldn’t notice any effects for months, maybe even years, that is if it impacted them the same way it did his own race. But it would eventually kill them, painfully and horribly as the disease slowly ate away at their organs and flesh. The Vidiians had resorted to horrific experiments to keep themselves alive when Kal’s people, the descendants of the original carriers of the Phage, which they themselves had inherited, had been forced to leave their homeworld. What was once a peaceful and enlightened people had all but resorted to medical cannibalism to stay alive, while the Phage Carriers were seen as some kind of twisted saviors as the hope for a cure may have still remained in their blood. In the end, the carriers secluded themselves away for decades on an out of the way island on the homeworld, and then later launched themselves into space and took on an advanced scout ship to make use of.
The prospect of them leaving the homeworld for the express reason to find a cure and return it to the Vidiian race was a surprisingly accepted concept. A race that had lost all hope will cling to anything that grants a semblance of it. The carriers were seen as heroes who would leave selflessly to one day return… That though, was almost five hundred years ago.
Dr. Kal turned his attention to the new arrivals in sickbay alongside him in their own Quarantine fields. The young Ensign who had first come into contact with him was now sitting slumped on the biobed with a look of forlorn guilt. He felt sorry for her, ultimately it was not her fault that this was happening, though he noted that whatever guilt she felt could not possibly come close to his own. The others looked similarly concerned and at this point had to be his greater concern. Three races; Trill, Orion and Benzite, which all showed indications to being susceptible to the disease based on his preliminary research. That could mean that they may just fight off the disease like a common flu, or may suffer the Phage in all its horror. Even worse was a thought that Kal tried his best to push from his mind, was the prospect that somehow the Phage may mutate by coming into contact with one of them and either kill them sooner or worse still migrate to even more races. It was for these reasons that Kal’s people had tried their best to avoid all alien contact for as long as they had. Barely even trading with other races unless absolutely necessary.
Dr. Kal looked back at the console and began looking through their most recent scans conducted by the competent hands of Dr. Rousseau. Kal was thankful for a colleague like her at this time even though he’d only known her for less than a day. However, he also feared the worst. He did not know how these people would react should he need to suggest the most drastic measures required in order to save their lives…
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Post by pscotty90 on Apr 27, 2020 15:07:22 GMT
Meanwhile aboard the Sanctuary
“We have to send a message,” Captain Oktan spat as her hands balled up into fists on the meeting table in front of her, “We cannot lose any more of our people to the selfish thought that our mission no longer matters!”
The ruling council sat in silence, politely listening while Oktan said her piece. The Captain officially had the same level of authority of any of the other seven members that made up the Vidiian leadership aboard the Sanctuary but everyone on the ship knew that the Captain had the most power and the most say. The Captain decided where the ship’s resources were needed most, where workers needed to concentrate their efforts when repairs were needed, and most importantly, where the ship was headed next on its long journey. Unlike the others, the Captain was also appointed by their predecessor, rather than chosen by an election of peers like the rest of the council.
“I understand your feelings, Captain,” one of the leadership spoke up, the representative for the technical specialists aboard ship, “In the past we have understood the necessity to make it clear to the populace that it neither safe for them or other species for them to leave, but we have been travelling a long time. None of us know anything of the home world beyond what is in history records. For all we know our civilization and theirs could be irreconcilably different now.”
“Our Civilization is built on the ideal of finding a cure. This ship and its people chose to leave Vidiia for that one purpose. To settle the debt our ancestors owed.” Oktan said, “I refuse to allow us to give up on that.”
“And yet from what we have learned from this Federation, the Vidiians may indeed be cured already.” Another Council member added.
“Then we keep searching until we are cured. That way we can be certain that it’ll be safe for us to return and not carry the Phage back to them.” Oktan stood to her feet, now looking down on the gathered assembly, “We know the Phage. We know we cannot risk it escaping elsewhere. We cannot risk anyone thinking that it is a simple task to leave this ship. This ship and our mission relies on every single member of our community.”
There was again a tense silence that permeated council room. The crew numbered in the thousands but everyone, even the very young had a role to play aboard. The Sanctuary was a sturdy ship but over the years she had become an aged and complicated mishmash of technologies. As parts became worn they had to be repaired, and when they could no longer be fixed new hardware either had to fabricated or bartered for. Almost two thirds of the crew were devoted to engineering and technical services, while records indicated that when the ship first set out only a quarter of the crew were devoted to such tasks. It was also the technical division that saw the most dissent with the council’s decisions. It was not that they were badly cared for, it was merely that unlike the scientists, administrators, hydroponic farmers and other roles aboard, the technical staff could see day after day how their ship was slowly deteriorating… Many on the council could see their point of view, but the Captain’s role had always been to keep the ship together. To find a way to stay on mission no matter what. It was a singular commitment that Oktan had embedded into her heart like a dagger from the day she had been elevated by the previous Captain. Captains had always been among the most zealous of the community. “What would you suggest, Captain?” one of the seven finally asked.
“We must start making sure that these dissidents in our community are punished…” she replied, "Reduced liberties, limit their rations. Make it clear that their mindset will not be tolerated." The Representative for the Technicians shook his head. "You will merely be pushing them away further. Make them crave freedom from this vessel even more. A few decades of that and we may well see a mutiny take hold here." Captain Oktan sat back down with a huff and glared at the elderly councilman. For all of the diplomacy she could manage on the few occasions when she had to interact with outsiders, she had never had the patience for politics with the council. "They deserve no less. They're traitors as far as I am concerned." "I suggest we table this matter for now," the young representative for the educating class spoke up, "Until we know for sure what the Zorya plans to do with our people." "No," Oktan rose up again and walked towards the doors to the Command Centre, "I will speak with Zorya, but I will handle this my way." She wrenched open the locking seal on the door and pushed hard, her steps echoing through the briefing room as it slammed shut behind her, leaving the seven council members to share knowing, silent looks between them... If they had spoken honestly, they would have to admit that this was how most of their meetings finished.
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Post by pscotty90 on May 22, 2020 0:19:45 GMT
Marsland had received the call from OPS a couple of hours after his final talk with Captain Oktan. Since then, Doctor Rousseau had been hard at work modifying a series of genetic re-sequencers for Vidiian use while he confirmed the requisition order for the Colony ship Homeward Bound and got back to some paperwork. As his panel chimed with an incoming comm, and indicated it was being rerouted by Ensign T'Pann on the bridge, Marsland set down his PADD and sat up to face the screen, only to be mildly surprised to see the warm, friendly face of Doctor Kal, rather than Oktan again.
"Captain Marsland. A pleasure once again," the good Doctor greeted with obvious reverence.
The Captain tried not to show the surprise on his face, but failed every so slightly. “Doctor Kal, a pleasure to see you again, as always.” He seemed to look past the Doctor for a moment, looking to see if Captain Oktan was near. “To be honest, Doctor, I’d expected to hear from Captain Oktan by now. What can I do for you?”
"Our ruling council requested that I be the one to speak to you. Captain Oktan has unfortunately decided to step down from her post," Kal's tone told him that there was nothing unfortunate about it. "She stated she was doing so as a protest of the council's decision to agree to your terms, though personally I think she just lost the will to fight after she realised how many were amenable to your option."
“I understand, Doctor, and wish you all of the best. My people are still working on the re-sequencers for you, as well as the colony ship.” Marsland smiled, the first smile he’d had in a little while. “What can I do for you? Is there anything else you or your people need?” As he spoke, he looked over at a model of the ship sitting on the corner of his desk and smiled.
"You've already done more than enough for us, Captain. Your Ensign Volkova was kind enough to beam over the crewmembers that had escaped to your ship so we'll now be alongside until Doctor Rousseau finishes her arrangements. Our Navigators are then prepared to rendezvous with your colony vessel." He lowered his voice and allowed his smile to drop, a look of regret forming instead.
"I… I just wished to apologise on behalf of myself. Were it not for me then the unfortunateness that occurred aboard your vessel wouldn't have occurred… And Lt. Mallin…" His voice trailed off as both their thoughts turned to the Benzite it sickbay, still only breathing through external assistance. "Anyway… It was my fault…" he added after a moment.
Marsland lowered his voice in suit, a more serious tone in his voice. “At the end of the day, Doctor, we all choose to serve the greater good. Starfleet may well disagree with my actions here today.. In fact, I’m counting on it. However, I believe that the greater good has been served here, and I’m sure Lieutenant Mallin will feel the same soon, and that her sacrifice has not been in vain. We accept your apology.. I just encourage you, and your people, like Captain Oktan, to see the bigger picture when possible.”
Kal nodded and a tired smile returned.
"She was a good Captain to us… Hard. But she needed to be. Until now." "The people will be allowed to choose what they wish. We'll have two ships after all. There's no reason why some couldn't try to return to the Delta Quadrant… But I think many will want to find a nice out of the way world to settle on. I know I wouldn't mind…"
“Of course, Doctor. On behalf of Starfleet and the entire Federation of Planets, I wish you well.”
"Thank you again, Captain." Kal said, "Safe travels to you and your crew." He nodded one final time. The screen went black, and then displayed the usual United Federation of Planets logo. Marsland leaned back in his chair in the Ready Room. While not looking forward to the eventual discussion he’d be having with the Commodore and perhaps some others regarding his use of genetic re-sequencers, that was a problem for a different day.
His chair swiveled to face the stars as the Akira-class starship slid through the darkness. “We’ve done good here… just a little bit at a time.” A few hours later Doctor Rousseau had concluded her adjustments to the re-sequencers and transported them over to Sanctuary. With a rendezvous arranged with the Homeward Bound, the Vidiian ship slowly pulled ahead of Zorya and drifted out of formation, its centuries old engines powering up with a dim, amber glow as it set a new course and leapt into warp.
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Aboard her, Doctor Kal sat at the desk within his dingy office and held down his instruments briefly and the deck plates vibrated while the ship ran up to speed. In the centre of his desk now stood a pristine piece of Starfleet technology. He looked at it almost with reverence before plugging in a sample of his own blood to begin his work.
Always have to start somewhere… he thought.
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