Episode 1: The Alcubierre

Korias is pleased to finally be getting to work researching and trying to find answers for his new captain.

He likes the Phobos. It’s quite a change from the last ship he served on. It’s smaller, much smaller. The crew is thin and essential. There are less minds aboard to creep into his thoughts and distract him from his work. And he does like his work. Nothing focuses him more.

Although he will hardly admit it to himself, the last ship overwhelmed his betazoid mind. And the traumatic climax of his former assignment was when the ship was destroyed, his captain killed, and he was forced to stay collected and take command over the small surviving crew. Despite their rampant emotions of fear and panic, Korias had to lead them to a planet and assume command until they were rescued eventually by Starfleet.

Yes...the Phobos is good assignment. He is eager to get to work.


To be able to provide a full report to Captain Sh'zhialroq ahead of her away team assignments, Science Officer Nevark decides to run a search in the ship's computer Starfleet database for any past studies or logged occurrences that have overlapping mention of warp drive activity and subspace interference. He also researches more details about the Alcubierre's original mission and engine system design.

Lt. Ch'pok, son of T’skrang, is a tall, swarthy Klingon with broad shoulders, thick eyebrows, and a mustache split at the center. His brown hair is worn short and hangs along the sides of face and neck, parted by a prominent sagittal crest beginning at the forehead and continuing over the skull. His gaze is intense and strikingly judgmental. From interacting with the Klingon lieutenant, one gets the sense that taking part in the officer exchange program was not his idea.

Unlike the other personnel around him, Ch'pok is wearing the standard uniform of the Klingon Defense Forces: a black tunic and trousers topped with a two-toned metallic armored vest, large shoulder pads, a six button belt buckle, boots, fingerless gloves made of razorbeast leather, and a sheathed dagger at his side. He wears a diagonal sash across his chest sporting various medals of past achievements, though the honor and meaning of these medals are lost to most of the surrounding humans. Ch'pok has heard the stories of a Klingon serving in Starfleet on one of its Galaxy-class starships, and he'd heard it said that this Klingon succumbed to wearing human garments. To Ch'pok, the notion is laughable.

The Klingon officer stands at his station and watches the view screen with little reaction. He narrows his eyes at the grainy image of the Alcubierre. This stinks of a trap.

Ch'pok turns to face his terminal. The Klingon's first order of business is to discern any potential perils in the area, primarily any other hidden ships or surprises that might be in waiting. He takes a few seconds to study the many screens of the weapons station, or what the humans prefer to call a "tactical station." He is still adjusting to the LCARS system used by Starfleet, and though the touch-based interface is markedly similar to Klingon technology, the layout of the controls is different.

Lt. Scofield sees an opportunity to make himself noticed.

The young officer is standing on the bridge as they approach the disappeared ship. It had been three trivial days searching for the missing craft but now it is in view. The failed scanning clearly means that they'll have to go in. And who better to lead the team than Scofield?
This is definitely an opportunity for him to advance and prove his worth as an officer. You have to grab those opportunities whenever they arise, he reminds himself.

"Captain, may I suggest we send a team in? I could go. he says a bit too eager and a bit too premature.

Dak knew that it would come to an away party, how else could this be done? But he didn't feel the need to chirp at it. Rather, he began making a checklist in his mind of what they would need- shuttlecraft, phasers, possibly encounter suits if the atmosphere wasn't breathable on the derelict ship. As chief of security, it was his responsibility to ensure the safety of away parties, so he prepared himself for the order to go.

As a half-Bajoran/half-Cardassian, Dak was unique in Starfleet- very few like him existed anywhere at all, but here amongst his peers he'd found a family, so he prepared to protect that family. I won't lose another crew . . .

Dak pushed the thoughts of his previous ship from his mind, glad to be back on ANY ship again after his sojourn through Starfleet Intelligence. I will earn these people's trust, he said to himself

Captain Sh'zhialroq made no bones about denying his promotion once again, but she did promise to see about his request for a bunk with less roommates. He wasn't an enlisted officer, after all, even if he wasn't fully commissioned. He let her put her boots on and leave his office. Andorians had remarkable feet, and it really made her less uncomfortable when unburdening herself to the ship's counsellor.

He smiled and thanked her for the book recommendation, wondering why an Andorian would have tried to read human neuro-diverse 22nd century poetry, if they weren't required to do so by some kind of contractual obligation.

Chuck was a handsome man, perhaps too handsome for his own good, which coupled with his disarming and youthful demeanor usually meant he could get by in life with less effort than was strictly necessary. Unfortunately, the Starfleet exams were frustratingly immune to his charms. Next time, he'd buckle down and get that commission!

Later...

On the bridge, as they take in the sight of the Alcubierre for the first time, he stands beside Lt. Ch'pok. They have drilled together once, as Petty Officer Chuck Tate is a highly trained security personnel, despite his sights set on command stripes. "Pick me," he whispers to the Klingon. "When they ask for a security team, pick me and I'll cover your six."

T'rissa groaned rolling out of bed for her third shift on the bridge. She ran her fingers through her hair yawning and stretching before flopping back on her bed and letting out a long breath. A short while and several more deep breaths later she sats back up and headed into the fresher to clean up. The ships chief medical officer, had promised her less than a day before that this shift time adjustment wouldn't last more than a week but that definitely felt like a week more than was honestly acceptable.

The ships fresher was, acceptable, but her early life on Andoria had left her with a preference for water based showers and hot ones at that so she'd imported her own special fresher setting from her previous posting. Thusly, when she finally emerged from the washroom she left behind a room bathed in steam and moisture. The environmental systems would take care of the steam in short order but the walls were another story and so she spent an extra five minutes wiping things down before pulling her uniform out of the closet and climbing into it.

T'rissa's skin was pale for a Vulcan and her long straight red hair was unusual enough that it made her something of an oddity among her people. She let out another breath and set about pulling her hair back behind her ears and fastening it in place with an ornate silver clasp adorned with a series of Vulcan glyphs. Fastening her uniform she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror before ordering a large mug of green tea and an english muffin.

When she appeared on the bridge a few moments later the muffin was gone and she carried the tea cup carefully. T'lyras, the night shift pilot turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow before getting up and relinquishing the con. T'rissa nodded and handed the black haired Vulcan woman the cup of tea prior to taking her seat. "I hope you have a pleasant slumber lieutenant, I made you some tea green tea, it helps me relax."

"Thank you." T'lyras replied as she nodded back giving the tea a sniff, "I hope your shift is equally pleasant lieutenant."

"Thank you." T'rissa said with a nod before turning her attention to the controls in front of her and the disabled ship on the main viewscreen.

When Chuck Tate speaks to Ch'pok, the Klingon exhales loudly through his nostrils and gives the Petty Officer a sidelong glance. He considers the human's question for a brief moment before turning his whole head to look at him. The gesture is not unlike a phaser turret swiveling to acquire a target.

"My... six?" he growls. As is typical of Klingons, nearly everything said by Ch'pok sounds tinged with aggression. He assumes Tate is employing some form of Federation slang. "Do you mean my flank?"

"Old earth phrase, means cover your back," Chuck explains with the enthusiasm of someone who expects to be liked for his helpfulness.

Lt. Ch’pok again considers the Petty Officer’s words. "I agree to your terms. We have an accord. Though I do not know who will assign the team. That task may fall to Lt. Khiatt."

"At once, Captain" Fenris acknowledged the order. He took a moment to consider the mission and the composition of the team.

"Mr. Nevark, I'll need your scientific expertise on this.
Lt. Khiatt for security along with Lt. Ch'pok.
And finally, Lt. D'Syre, I think I'll need your expertise as well. Fenris concludes believing he has put together the best team for the mission. One obvious omittance is Chuck Tate. It is not just the good looks and the charm of the man that made Fenris feel jealous but also that they had the same ambitions making them in Fenris' mind almost rivals.
"We'll leave as soon as possible."

Korias responds to Fenris Scofield, " I am ready sir."

At the omission, Chuck realizes he was schmoozing the wrong officer, but he elbows Lt. Ch'pok. Well not really elbows him, but leans a little closer and says, "I'm a decent shuttle pilot, too."

Dak nods to acknowledge the order, "I will have encounter suits and phasers at the shuttle bay in 20 minutes. Are there any other supplies we will need Sir?"

T'rissa stood up from her position at the pilots console and turned to follow Commander Scofield. "Sir," she says stepping in behind him, "might I suggest deploying a probe." Her voice is even and calm, "Perhaps we get it close enough we could isolate the source of the interference or potentially use it as a signal booster for our coms back to the Phobos."

Lt. Ch'pok turns to the captain. "My short-range tactical scans are inconclusive, but they suggest the interference is centered on the engineering section of the vessel."

He pivots to face Scofield. "Petty Officer Tate would be of value. He is a shuttle pilot of some capability." Though his words are a recommendation, the Klingon's gruff manner make them sound more like a command.

"Suits and phasers, yes" Fenris replies Khaitt "We'll need a few tricorders. Mr. Nevark, I trust you bring one for any examination, we might conduct. I'll bring one as well. Also, see if we can obtain a medkit. We risk being unable to beam back in an emergency, so we better be prepared for all eventualities."

"Excellent idea with the drone, D'syre."

Then Tate volunteered. Fenris felt a pang of annoyance but seeing the insistence of the Klingon, he had no choice. "Lt. Tate, thank you for offering your assistance as a pilot. I very happy to accept it." he says a bit stiff and formal.

Chuck nods, and tries to look professional, even if he's yippeeing inside. Contain it, PO, you're in Starfleet, just do a good job, the best you can, and make a name for yourself.

To Scofield, he says, "Sir, I'll do my best, sir." And to the Klingon, he adds, "Thank you, sir."

Later on, inside the shuttle...

Petty Officer Tate settles into the seat, and runs the ship through the preflight checks, which is mostly routine, but he double checks the results as the rest of the away team settles into place.

"Phobos, this is Shuttle 2, ready to depart." He waits for clearance and then eases the craft out of the hanger bay.

Lt. Ch’pok sits toward the back of the runabout and awaits departure. For the away mission, he’s sporting a sleeveless gray long coat over his uniform. Holstered at his side is a standard-issue Klingon disruptor. Were hand-to-hand combat a certainty, he would have also considered bringing a bat’leth, but for now he’d make due with his d’k tahg.

At the moment, Ch’pok is visibly frowning at the softness and comfortable contours of his seat. The warrior glances around the ship’s interior with an expression bordering on disgust. A Klingon shuttle would never bother with "cushions" or "ergonomics". It’s just more evidence demonstrating the Federation’s pliant and feeble mentality; a mentality that breeds weakness. Ch’pok would take a piece of cold duranium or a slab of stone any day over this travesty.

Strength is born from adversity, not ease and comfort.

T'rissa pilots a probe in close to the Alcubierre setting it up just on the edge of the anomaly and lets it do it's thing before changing quickly and heading down to the shuttle bay.

Her long crimson hair is pulled back in a tight bun now which has a single silver rod thrust through it with a black pennant on one end containing a handful of Vulcan glyphs. She's wearing the body of an EVA suit, has the helmet tucked under her arm and a long green sash tied around her waist. "Gentlemen." she says with a nod stepping aboard the shuttle.

She takes the chair next to Chuck, "Mr. Tate."

The Vulcan woman takes a moment to check all of the controls and readouts on the shuttle making sure that everything is as it should be before turning to look at Ch'pok, "Lieutenant," she says, "is your d’k tagh from Qo'noS?" She asks raising an eyebrow, "I have one in my collection its provenience is dubious at best."

Once in the shuttle, Fenris starts plotting the course to approach the Alcubierre. This should be a trivial matter but he double-checks to be sure.

"Mr. Tate if you are ready, please set a course bearing 019 mark 038" he says. "Do not approach too fast.

Mrs D'syre, have you any information from the drone yet?"

Nevark joins the shuttle with a tricorder for himself and two others as well as a med kit issued from sick bay.

Ch'pok is pulled from his thoughts when the Vulcan officer addresses him. He glances at T'rissa and then down at the sheathed dagger at his side.

"Yes... it hails from the homeworld," growls the Klingon. "It was fabricated in the forges of the First City itself." Then, almost as an afterthought, he says, "I took it off of a fellow officer after we settled a dispute through personal combat."

Ch'pok smirks slightly. It must be a pleasant memory, as it's the first time since boarding the Phobos that he's ever betrayed any expression other than annoyance or disdain. A row of crooked, sharpened teeth becomes visible.

"A true d'k tagh bears its maker's mark below one of the secondary blades. If a molecular imaging scanner finds traces of alloyed baakonite in the mark, then it is probably real."

Dak listens with a certain sense of jealousy, "It must be nice to have such a strong connection to your home world with you out here, so far away." He leaves the second half of the sentiment unsaid that even having a true home world would be even better.

"I shall have to have you examine it." T'rissa says to Lt. Ch'pok, "I won it off a warrior in test of strength. He seemed reluctant to part with it but knew little about the weapons past."

She calls up the probe and begins streaming any information about the Alcubierre and the anomaly it may have found.

Dak scans the bay, "I don't like the look of this." he clutches his phaser taking in the tactical situation in case of ambush.

"Agreed." Nevaek says to Dak as he attempts to get some readings from his tricorder.

Then he continues to Schofield and says, "Sir, the interference seems to be affecting our ability to get any tricorder readings beyond very close ranges, perhaps our combadges are affected as well. My scans aboard the ship revealed the source of the interference focused on the engineering deck of the Alcubierre."

"It is," T'rissa says looking about, "unusual at best."

She turns and looks at Mr. Scofield, "Perhaps we can get some information from one of the panels in the cargo hold to help us better understand what has happened."

Chuck forms a defensive line, taking the opposite way of Lt. Ch'pok, and flanking the door out of the cargo hold. He keeps his eyes out, his hand brushing the phaser on his hip in a practiced move to make sure it hasn't come off.

"I agree. We must proceed with caution and stay close together. I fear we could lose communication if we split up.

See if you can get any information on that panel. We can try that first, then the engineering deck as Mr. Nevark suggests. I think a first objective would be to get the power system online again. If that is possible at all.

Stay alert."

Fenris takes a look around in the docking deck. "I think one of you should take a look at the console and see if you are able to open one of the doors.
Meanwhile, I'll just examine this docking bay. It seems odd that it was left open." He starts a more thorough Investigation of the dock.

Nevark responds, "Lt. Schofield, I will examine the console and see if I can get it to accept input."

Lt. Ch'pok surveys the cargo bay with a suspicious glare. He considers having his disruptor drawn and ready, but ultimately decides against it. He makes a mental note when hearing some of the Starfleet personnel mention the limited range of tricorders and interference with sensors. As the others discuss how they'd like to proceed, he glances around for any signs of a struggle or anything that seems out of the ordinary. Admittedly, many things on a Starfleet ship seem out of the ordinary to a Klingon, but Ch'pok keeps an eye out anyway. He takes a slow stroll around the bay and inspects behind cargo crates and under shuttlecraft. He also checks the room's darkened corners. With emergency lighting in effect, it would be easy for someone to stay hidden in the shadows. He even sniffs at the air to detect the presence of any unusual odors.

T'rissa heads across the bay to the single functioning LCARS panel and attempts to use it to access information from the bridge, specifically the pilot's console to see what was going on at the time of the accident.

T'rissa raises an eyebrow, "It would seem someone wishes to speak to us in Stellar Cartography." She looks at Fenris, "You thoughts sir?"

"A message like this under these circumstances is either someone in need of help or a trap." Fenris paraphrases the academy textbooks. "In either case, our only option is to investigate who or what is in the Stellar Cartography with the uttermost caution.
It seems clear enough that a state of emergency existed here prior to our arrival.

Let's see if we can get those doors open."

"Cover me while I try to force them." Dak requests, approaching the coor and trying to open it.

Chuck withdraws his phaser and covers the door for Dak. He kneels in one knee for stability, aiming at the door when it opens.

T'rissa steps aside and raises an eyebrow as she watches Dak work on the door. Her hand rests on the handle of her phaser but she does not draw the weapon, not yet.

Nevark steps to the side of Dak. He watches his tricorder for any readings that might get picked up just beyond the door. He'll continue to monitor tricorder readings as they party proceeds, even if they only register a extremely short range.

Dak pauses a moment muttering a Bajoran curse then using the handle end tried for to force the door.

"Cover us," Chuck says to T'rissa. He sheathed his phaser and assists in the door opening exercise.

T'rissa nods pulling her phaser out, she smiles that odd Vulcan smile as she awaits the results of the men's attempts.

"It strikes me as unusual that the handle would be in such a poor state of repair." She remarks looking at Korias, "Does that not strike you as unusual?" The Vulcan woman raises an eyebrow and glances at his tricoder.

"What the pfassk have happened here?" Fenris exclaims almost losing his composure at the sight of the dead bodies. Instinctively scanning around for hostiles with the phaser in hand. Seeing no immediate threat he lowers his guards a bit.
"Nevark. D'Syre. Does any of you have any forensic skills to asses what has happened to these crew members?"

Not eager to examine the carnage but willing to do his duty, Nevark replies, "I can at least assess the type of energy that caused these walls to be scorched Lieutenant and see if there is any correlation with any visible wounds of these crew members."

"Ignoring the broad generalization that because I am Vulcan I am a scientist, which I am not, I can add little to Mr. Nevark's analysis of the bodies." T'rissa says before examining the scorch marks and the burned out panels to see if she can determine what might have happened in this space.

Fenris blush a little at the reproach. A mistake on his part not knowing the competencies of his team members. "Right" is his only reply.
Then he starts looking down the corridor to asses the way ahead of them to the Stellar Cartography and remembering the layout of an Oberth-class starship.

Phaser once again drawn, Dak takes point in leading the team towards stellar cartography alert for an ambush or other hostiles in the corridors.

Chuck will flank Dax, covering him as they proceed toward stellar cartography.

At the disrupter blast, Fenris instinctively ducks for cover in a nook at the wall. Romulans, here? Could they be responsible for this carnage? There must be alternatives to fighting.

"Sieze fire." He shouts in his most commanding tone. "There is no need for violence. We have no intentions of hostility, though we do outnumber you. Sieze fire and let us talk." he insists, hoping to make the Romulans realize the fruitlessness and futility of picking a fight with the Starfleet team.

T'rissa pulls out her weapon and readies it waiting to see what the Romulans do. She looks at their disruptors and the edge of her mouth twists up.

"It seems unlikely that they desire to communicate," She says to Fenris, "they have left quite the trail of Starfleet corpses in their wake."

T’rissa, her phaser set to stun fires at the closest Romulan.

Dak also takes aim and fires, setting to stun first.

Chuck takes a second you aim, and then fires on stun, as well.

As soon as he is convinced the Romulans have retreated, Fenris takes a look down the corridor.
"I say we use the opportunity to press on and get to the Stellar Cartography beforethey get a chance to regroup."

"Yes sir," Tate says, and checks his weapon, then covers the opening to the jeffries tube while the others make their way.

T'rissa follows the others making sure to pick up the Romulan disruptors as they pass.

"No point in letting them rearm themselves." She says.

Nevark follows along with the crew.

Fenris who had expected this to be a more standard rescue situation with a rescuee in distress is momentarily taken aback by the calmness of the scene.

"Officer. What the status report?" Fenris inquiries using thestarfleet protocol procedure when meeting a fellow officer in a possibly hostile and unsecure environment.
He makes a mental note to further inquire into what the engineer almost "had".

T'rissa, a pilot by trade, looks at the information on the screens of stellar cartography and attempts to puzzle out what exactly it is that the engineer is up to.

Tate is glad to see a living human but being lower ranking than anyone else in the away team, does nothing more than nod a greeting and guard the door.

Nervark checks his tricorder readings, hoping that something is different about the interference here in Stellar Cartography.

"We are the away team of U.S.S. Phobos. Lt. Scofield and team. We encountered the Romulans just now. I fear they may return soon. We'll need to evacuate you along with any classified scientific research and items." Fenris responds as he looks around for any clues as to what important scientific research equipment they need to salvage from the Alcubierre and just to get a general idea of what kind of research the physician might have been conducting.

"Right..." Fenris hesitates for a moment as he realizes his plan to rush off with the scientist and all the important research and save the day is not going to be so simple after all.
"Sounds like an engineering job. Who has the best expertise in this field to get the power diverted to the cartography system" he asks looking around at the team.

Chuck is also not the best engineer in the average mess hall, but like most of Starfleet personnel, he has some cross training.

Fenris listens to Nevark's technical advice on how to bypass the lockout. Seeing how no one else steps up he takes the responsibility as a team leader should in situations like these. Following Nevark's instructions he presses a few button on the control panel.

"Nicely done. Now I see that we might be able to route here..." Nevark points to diagrams on the display, "and siphon this amount...yes...there's auxiliary systems. Perhaps this will do." He presses a series of controls. "Hmm...there's something else we need...what do you think is missing?" He asks Scofield.

"Let me see. It looks about right. May be you should switch on the external conductor amplifier as well." Fenris suggests