JL | CStrOps Lt Merlin & CSO Lt. Shran | Burning The Midnight Oil

Posted on Mon Apr 2nd, 2018 @ 4:06pm by Commander Evan Merlin

Mission: Lacuna
Location: Cold Station Theta, Central Ops
Timeline: SD 241804.02

When the Lieutenant entered Central Ops again, much later that day – technically, as midnight had come and gone, it was the next day already, but with Gamma shift still on duty he still chose to call it 'later that day' – he was startled to find that usually deserted corner of the area was still occupied by that same lanky Andorian he'd spotted during his main shift. The man looked as if he hadn't moved at all.

The Lieutenant carefully set the fresh pile of padds down – unbelievable how many padds the station generated, especially during this present crisis – and strolled over. And now he recognised the man from the senior staff meeting, a few days ago: the Chief Science officer of the USS Vindicator. The man with the amazing visual implants – and the partner of the Vindicator's missing crewmember. And now he remembered that he'd seen the request earlier, somewhere amidst another pile. The Science officer wanted access to Cold Station Theta's sensor logs. There hadn't been any reason not to allow it, so he'd approved the request. And not much later the man had come in and sat down at an empty console. But that had been hours ago. Quite a few hours ago.

"Still at work?" the Lieutenant asked softly. His quiet voice was not because he was afraid he'd startle the man, but because the quiet atmosphere of the Gamma shift generally evoked hushed voices.

Anaxar didn't look up, merely gave a curt nod. The passage of time had passed him by, lost as he was in concentration. He had been going over log after log, file after file, comparing images, overlaying them with one another, running them through various filters. He idly rubbed his scarred forehead with one hand, noted dimly to himself that he had only one painkiller capsule left in his pocket. He tried to concentrate on his work again, but that was getting harder.

The Lieutenant still stood behind him, hovering over his shoulder. His eyes flicked from screen to screen. "Did you find anything?"

With a sigh, Anaxar pushed back from the console and stretched. And winced. He had spent too long sitting on one position, which was never a good idea, but especially not for one as tall as he was. But that pain was almost refreshing compared to what he already felt lurking in the background, waiting to pounce. "I'm not sure," he began.

The Lieutenant pulled up another chair and sat down. "It might help if you talk me through it," he said.

Anaxar tilted his head slightly, considered the invitation. Then he gave a small shrug. "Might as well," he muttered. He turned his chair to face the Lieutenant. "People always say cloaking devices render ships completely invisible," he began. "But from a strictly scientific point of view, the perfect cloaking device doesn't exist. There's always some trail. A slight blurring. One specific kind of radiation which gives a brief spike. A blotting out of certain frequencies of light. Most of those trails are almost impossible to detect, though, because you have to know exactly what you're looking for, and where to look. Most sensors aren't even accurate enough to pick those trails up. Standard navigational sensors in ships, for instance. People usually think the sensors scan continuously, an unbroken sequence. But actually, it's a rapid sequence of scans, like…" he paused briefly. "Do they still do 'classic movie nights' on Earth's Starfleet Academy? The original movies were a series of images, projected rapidly after another, fast enough that the eye perceived it as one continuous motion. That's how scanners work, by and large."

The Weirdo Lieutenant nodded, fascinated. If you saw him sitting in the corner like that, the Andorian was easy to ignore or underestimate. Tall, scarecrow-thin, with wild, unkept hair and an uniform which always seemed two sizes too big, and those scars on his face which made people either want to stare at him or hurriedly look away. But there was a burning intensity in that man, a narrow focus, held back with great effort. Once you saw that, it was hard to forget that before switching to the Science department, the man used to be a Tactical officer.

"So, standard navigational scanners operate on a scanning frequency of 113 scans per second. Now, if something changes between one scan and the next, you think it gets registered, right? Usually, yes, because if something changes it means stays changed. But sometimes you get glitches. Say, in scan 75 you can see three stars in a certain area. In scan 76 and 77 they are gone. In scan 78 they're back. The computer usually assumes there has been some kind of data corruption and it's never registered."

The Lieutenant gave a slow nod. "But if it's not a glitch, but an actual blot… something mostly hidden, moving by at speed…"
Anaxar rubbed his scarred forehead again. "Yes. And gone so quickly that the sensors never get an accurate fix on it. It'd assume false data. Now, the station's close range sensors are mostly integrated – navigation and tactical, with generic science, on account of high traffic in the area near the station and the nearby nebula. So yours don't operate on a 133 frequency, but closer to three hundred. Much more detailed."

"And you're looking for glitches which aren't glitches," the Lieutenant said. "Did you find any?"

"I believe I have, yes. But I'm still awaiting…" Anaxar's voice trailed off as something bleeped behind him. He turned his chair back to the console, activated another screen. More data began to scroll. Anaxar continued to talk as he studied the new information. "I've sent requests to docked ships and vessels which were near the Starbase from the moment S- Lieutenant Dai'xun disappeared until now. If some of those 'glitches' your Starbase sensors detected occur there, too, then the chance that it was an actual data glitch is all but zero. And maybe we can learn more about the type of cloak, and possibly even a vector…" He suddenly froze. Three screens next to each other had stopped flowing. "Oh, yes," he whispered, a sudden tremble in his voice. "Oh yes. Look at that…"

The Lieutenant moved closer and stared at the screens. Three screens, three views of a star field, but from different angles. And a slight blurring in each of them. "These are from CST," he said, pointing to the left screen. "And these are?"

"Runabout Colorado and USS Chimera," Anaxar said, tapping the middle screen and the right. "Same time stamp. Not much after the estimated time Commander Valeese disappeared. And here…" He let the screens run again, and after a few moments, the left and right screens froze once more while the middle one winked out. "And this is what I'm looking for," the Andorian whispered. "Runabout already out of sensor range, but both the station and the Chimera picked it up. Several seconds later, different spot, same glitch. It's not much, but it's the start of a vector. And there might be more…"

"It's certainly more than anything we've found thus far," the Lieutenant said.

"Mind you, it still might mean nothing." Anaxar turned back to face the Lieutenant again and ran a trembling hand through his hair. "For all we know, it was just our Romulan neighbours bringing us a visit. This close to the Empire, I'm sure you will have your share of spies on and near the station. And who knows what else there is out there. But I don't think this is a standard Romulan cloaking device, though I'm hardly an expert."

The Lieutenant regarded the trembling hand with a frown. "Just how long has it been since you ate?" he asked. For that matter, but this question he kept to himself, how long ago had it been since the Andorian slept? He looked as if he could collapse any moment.

"Don't know," Anaxar answered. "Awhile ago." Noticing the Lieutenant's look, he thrust his hand in his pocket, grabbed the last painkiller capsule and squeezed. The usual sharp pinprick of pain as the tiny needle penetrated the palm of his hand, then a rush of heat, and the pain slowly started to fade away.

There was a plate on the outer edge of the console, with some Andorian fast food. A few bites gone, most of it was still there, looking somewhat worse for wear after what must've been hours.

"Then I really advice you to get some rest. You've made a great start." The Lieutenant gave Anaxar a smile which was wholly unlike his usual maniac grin. "If you like, I can contact other ships. And I'll make sure this information will be passed on to the Stenellis delegation. Maybe their ships can add to it-"

"-with their different sensor frequencies and all," Anaxar interrupted him. Some colour was slowly returning to his pale antennae and cheeks. "Good idea." He rose, winced, then gave the other a nod. "Thank y-"

This time it wasn't a bleep which interrupted him, or a complaint from his weary body. It was a faint tremor he felt only through the soles of his feet. And, a moment later, not exactly a sound but more the ghost of a sound, beyond an actual threshold of hearing, but perceived nonetheless: as if the giant station sighed. He saw the Lieutenant's eyes widen. "Did you-" he started, at the same time as the Lieutenant began with: "What was that?"

Then the alarms began.

[So... it's the middle of the night, there has just been an explosion deep in the bowels of the station. No idea yet how or why or what damage. Have fun with it. And if people want more direction, or want me for a joint log, just give me a prod!]

Lieutenant Evan 'Weirdo' Merlin
Chief Strategic Operations/Acting XO
COLD STATION THETA, SB-1170

-and-

Lieutenant Anaxar Shran
Chief Science Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F