The Death Spasm

 Episode Name:  The Death Spasm

   Written By:  Genesis

         Cast:  Alarcon, Donavon, Dovoro, Finch, Fortunae, K'net-mauri, Medes 
                and Va'tol.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Fortunae

     Aired On:  Sat Jun 28 04:09:36 2003

     Stardate:  53320.7

Time: Fri Jun 27 21:38:36 2003

Stardate: 53320.1

Against the darkness of space a single shape pulls into view; a Danube class vessel with the name Cape Fear, cutting through the starlit backdrop at Warp 3, a speed they have maintained since leaving their homeport of Station 419. The Cape Fear is enroute to it's rendezvous with USS Princeton, a Niagra Class cruiser captained by the Vulcan Captain Vonal. The view slips into the cockpit of the Cape Fear where the mission team is working under the shadow of what may be happening in the Irdosia system. A point singularity is nothing to joke about, and the Dulcais Prime science team has only confirmed what the officers on Station 419 believe...the singularity could go in an hour, a week, a year, or never.

Seated in Conn is the young Vulcan, having done only a few minor adjustments on the course since their depart, while leaving the rest to the computer. Va'tol now rests his hands on the console, waiting for orders as they near the singularity..

And in Engineering, Medes taps idly at her console. Idle time is time in which diagnostics can be run, of course. Nothing to be done? Psha. There's always some detail of the runabout over which to obsess.

Queen of the veritable mountain, standing behind the crew and the awe inspiring console that with a press of a button, explosions could occur. Ensign Donavon, manning tactical, pads a fingertip over a red key and……reviews the readouts with a glazed expression, studying the nearby star system as their vessel approaches the USS Princeton. The singularity remains ignored for the security officer isn't here for the sake of science. A glance around the runabout at the crew, she is here to ensure their safety and to drag their exhausted bodies back home if need be - stare at Mede's back.

Ensign Kula Dovoro's blue hands dance over the Ops console, coaxing a cacophony of chirps from the computer, silver eyes dancing over the readouts. Her antennae twitch oh-so-slightly as she scans over the information provided.

Alarcon stands on the command deck, arms crossed, keeping a close eye on things. Her expression is hard to read. "Ensign Dovoro, once we are within range, please hail the Princeton, open a channel." Shifting her weight slightly from foot to foot, she purposefully does not review the Irdosian information on her PADD -again-, as she has so often been doing over the rest of the trip out.

Medes remains oblivious to Donavon's stare, as she rather happily works herself another step closer to exhaustion. Workaholiwhat? No way! Tappity taptap. There are diagnostics to run!

So this is what the science console looks like. Finch is fascinated. Really, he is. He looks as though he's never seen such a marvel of modern technology. Like he'd been asleep all they way through the Academy and the entire span of his career after graduating. Staring as he is, he keeps on top of the sensor readouts, looking for signs of those dangerous spatial anomalies, freaky space dwelling aliens the size of small moons and other generally bad stuff that nobody would want sneaking up on their runabout.

"Aye, sir," Dovoro calls out over the hum of the ship, "it's coming up on long range sensors now. Looks like we'll rendezvous with them right on schedule, about twelve minutes from now. Opening hailing frequencies."

Donavon fiddles with the notion about the benefits of tranquilizers while gradually glossing a gaze past Medes. Sights return to the console below, quietly analyzing the data. Eyes flicker to life spying something worth seeing - the USS Princeton appears on long range sensors. The security officer chooses not to inform the crew for Ensign Dovoro was assigned that task.

"USS Princeton, this is Lt. Alarcon of the Cape Fear of Station 419-U, coming to rendezvous with you for transport to the Irdosia system." Alarcon stands, now, with her hands clasped behind her back, in an apparent attempt to stop impatiently fiddling with her PADD and assorted equipment.

USS Princeton or planet devouring comet-monster? Finch peers even closer at the data on his console, but since he doesn't calmly stand up and try to evacuate the ship when nobody is looking, it must be something benign. He even starts to push buttons, nodding clearly to himself as various information floods the readout.

Dovoro responds, "The Princeton has returned out hail. And instructed us to remain on course for the rendezvous and await docking instructions."

Medes just /loves/ scanning for lifeforms! Or running diagnostics, take your pick. As no planet-devouring comet monsters are interfering with things thus far, she continues to quietly obsess over her precious runabout.

No monsters flare to life in the readouts at Donavon's console. Nope. Only monster is the larger vessel nearing to draw the runabout in for docking. All is fairly stable and the officer swivels a glance around to studying these individuals she usually never sees.

Alarcon nods to Dovoro. "Ensign Va'tol, remain on course, then. When Dovoro receives docking instructions from the Princeton, she will relay them to your console for you to follow." Not much else to do but wait and worry, worry and wait. Isobel rocks from heel to toe, slightly, hands still clasped behind her back.

"Yes, sir..", says the Vulcan, keeping speed and course steady.

Out the forward viewports the speck of light that is the approaching Princeton is now apparent and growing larger by the second.

"Sir." Finch pipes up out of nowhere. Well, from the science station, but since he's been remarkably quiet for the vast majority of this trip, his sudden 'sir' might seem abrupt. He swivels around to better face Alarcon, saying, "Long range sensors report suspicious sensor shadows near Irdosia. Permission to allocate power to redirect the scan, or should it wait until we're aboard the Princeton?"

"Let's wait on that, Lieutenant. Mighty fine scanning, there, but the Princeton will have a better sensor array to work with. We're nearly there as it is." A slight smile from Alarcon, and a nod, and she just remains stiffly standing there on the command deck as the runabout presumably begins its docking manoeuvers.

"Shall I notify the Princeton and ask them to begin checking that out as we dock, sir?" Dovoro calls out.

"Go ahead, Ensign. If they don't already have more information on it than we do, they might appreciate the heads-up." Alarcon nods, then, to Dovoro, allowing another slight smile.

Dovoro nods once without looking back, and begins relaying the data to the Princeton. At the same time, she directs the docking information over to Va'tol's console. "Done, sir. Relaying docking coordinates to Conn."

"Docking coordinates received sir. Dropping out of Warp.", reports Va'tol in return, tapping his console and dropping the Cape Fear's speed to impulse.

<CONTEST> Va'tol contests his Shipboard Systems (Flight Control) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Va'tol then begins the docking proceedure itself, manually maneuvering the ship smoothly into the main shuttle bay without problems. "Entering Shuttle Bay One, sir."

Behind the Cape Fear the Shuttlebay doors close solidly and after a moment the bay is filled again with breathable atmosphere, the completion of this signaled by the large lights on the bay walls switching from red to green. The Cape Fear sensors confirm this fact as well, and moments later the personnel hatch into the bay opens revealing a small greeting party consisting of several Operations branch junior enlisted, likely there to carry any bags for the officers on the Cape Fear, lead by an ensign in Command branch red. The Princeton crew step into the bay and await the debarking of the Cape Fear mission team.

Having spent most of his time at the USS Princeton meditating and practicing, Va'tol returns to the Cape Fear somewhat refreshed, and ready for the challenge at hand. He reclaims the Conn console and waits on his peers before setting a new course in the computer.

GAME: Medes spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Systems Engineering (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Systems Engineering (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

GAME: Medes spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Computer (Programming) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Twenty-six hours later on the edge of the Irdosia system the USS Princeton drops from warp and slows to a full stop. From the exterior view the Cape Fear can be observed exiting smoothly and arcing around the Princeton heading deeper into the interior of the system and locking on a course toward Irdosia VII. During the intervening travel time the crew of the Cape Fear was able to rest, avail themselves of the services of the Princeton's recreation facilities as well as gain a bit of information regarding the sensor shadows that Science officer Finch observed during the rendezvous -- the sensor shadows he picked up seem to be two to three Ferengi Raider class vessels on an inbound course toward Irdosia and deliberately masking their approach if the indicators are correct. An analysis of thier course and heading suggests they will not arrive for another 29 hours, unless the presence of the Princeton dissuades them of your unknown intentions. In addition, during the travel time Lieutenant Medes put in some extra spanner time making adjustments to the Cape Fear's sensors to counter-act some of the effects of the gravimetric distruption to same by the event occuring on or around Irdosia VII.

Inside the Cape Fear...

Alarcon shakes her head, frowning a little at sensor readings, which she is viewing (unobtrusively) over Finch's shoulder. "Hmm." Stepping back up to the command deck, hands still folded behind her back, she instructs, "Lieutenant Finch. Keep a close eye on those gravimetric fluctuations, as well as you can. With Medes' modifications, it should be easier. Va'tol, take us to warp one, and stay steady. Be ready to drop to impulse power on my mark... I don't want us to get too close to something so unstable too quickly. Ensign Donavon, keep an eye on our Ferengi friends. Let me know if their projected course alters, if they drop their sensor disguises, or if they raise speed."

Medes slides into Engineering, noting, "The sensor adjustments are complete, Isob... Lieutenant, and I've revised and reinitialized the recall program that I wrote on the first Irdosia mission. It'll be cued to active biomonitors if we have to suit up and leave the runabout." She initializes her LCARS panel and nods to herself. All is in order.

Va'tol casts a glance over his shoulder, nodding. "Yes, sir. Warp One." His fingers dance across the console, and this time they stay there, in case a quick change of speed becomes necessary..

Finch loves talking options with other scientifically minded officers, or at the very least, he seems to enjoy it. Beyond that, between eating, sleeping and working, he has just enough time during breaks to discuss his rare mineral collection with another science officer posted to the Princeton. She happily recites the complete catalogue of her synthetic crystal collection and daftly enough, he misses all the tell tale signs of a possible attraction. It's as if his internal sensors just aren't calibrated for that sort of thing or if they are, they desperately need a level four diagnostic. Once back on the Cape, he quietly ushers himself to his station and settles in for the ride with a growing expression of near broodiness on his face. Maybe he forgot to tell his new mess hall friend about his favorite hexagonal apatite crystal. Darn. He barely even notices Alarcon peering unobtrusively over his shoulder until she speaks. When she does, he blinks alert and quickly nods, "Yes, sir." And with that, his fingertips play over the interface to comply.

Ensign Donavon adjusts her uniform shirt, tugging down at the hem, before uplifting her head from studying tactical about the Ferengi vessels to make a sweeping run with her eyes around. One, two, a swivel to the other side of the runabout, three, four, a glance ahead, five and herself. All are a counted for thus ensuring the temporary safety of the crew since even numbers are lucky like six - as they head into undiscovered country.

GAME: Va'tol spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Va'tol (claiming advantage) contests his Space Sciences (Astrogation) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Alarcon remains standing stiffly at her post, rocking from heel to toe and such. She didn't take much time to socialize, to admire the lab facilities, to do much of anything but absorb as much as she could of the data the Princeton was able to collect. She forced herself to get some sleep, and she is crisp and alert, now, with an undertone of coiled tension. "Ensign Va'tol. At current course and rate of speed, how long until we reach the vicinity of the planet?"

Tap. Bleep. Tap Tap. "Course set at Warp One. ETA of 2.25 hours, sir..", reports the Vulcan.

There is a slight shudder as the Cape Fear accelerates to Warp One.

"Very well, thank you, Ensign. Finch, how close do you estimate we can get to the planet without being affected by the disturbances, ourselves, now that you have a clearer picture?" Alarcon directs her questioning to her ASO, now, arching a brow and waiting for his response.

Medes makes a vaguely annoyed little noise in the back of her throat not long after the ship accelerates to Warp One. "Minor, 3 variance in the warp core output... " she mutters to herself. "I'll have to adjust once we drop back to impulse." She practically puts off Perfectionist Rays visible to the naked eye, she does.

Gravimetric fluctuations. Finch scans for those, or rather, evidence of those, or the proximity of them to the ship. They're about as fun as the probably far too often mentioned comet-monster, or it's immature offspring, so he takes this job with utter seriousness and gravity. When another request is made of him, his hands run deftly over the console and in that drawl of his, he responds shortly after, "I would recommend a high standard orbit, a lower orbit could be attained, but the effects will most certainly become more tangible and unpredictable due to the disruption on the planet's surface, sir."

The shuttle's only been at warp for about ten minutes when Dovoro perks up a bit at her station. "Sir, the Princeton is hailing us... the energy surges are making it difficult for me to get a clear signal. I'll see what I can do."

After a few tappity tap taps, the sound of Captain Vonal's voice fills the cockpit of the runabout, interspersed with bursts of static. "Cape Fear, this is...<kzzt>..nceton. A Romulan scien...<kzzzt>...ssel, the D'Tal, has decloak...<kzzzt>..ear the Irdosia system. They've told...<kzzzt>...like to perform a routine scan...<kzzt>..stem."

Dovoro frowns deeply, antennae drooping slightly. "I'll try to clean that up, sir..."

GAME: Dovoro spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Dovoro (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Communications) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Succeeds!

GAME: Donavon spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Donavon contests her Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

A wide sensor scan reveals bits of data that Donavon complies thoughtfully. Comparisons are made against the locations of other vessels and the present political changes in this star system. Through the interference with long range sensors, she has a great deal of difficulty to decipher the number. "Ferengi N'gort class raiders, could possibly be one or three or five. I can't read through this interference. They could be heading to salvage what remains of that Romulan wreck. I'll report if I notice anything different."

Alarcon frowns, now, leaning forward as the communication is played, as if straining to clear the static with just her own hearing. When Dovoro says she'll try to clean it up, she nods, curtly. Likewise, then, to Donavon's comment. First things first--the science officer straightens up again, her frown lingering like a dark and slow-moving cloud across her features, pregnant with storm. "Good. Finch, are sensors detecting any ships decloaking to confirm Princeton's possible report?"

Up go Finch's eyes, gaze lifting from the console to digest Alarcon's question. Digested, his gaze drops and he works with sluggish ferocity on the console...

<CONTEST> Finch (claiming disadvantage) contests his Shipboard Systems skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

"I can't verify that, sir." Finch says with a knit of his brow, "I'm not picking up any ships decloaking, but I'll keep scanning." And so he does, looking more than just a little bit concerned at the limitations of the sensors.

Alarcon nods, then. "Good. Lt. Medes, if you can assist with that at all, by all means, do what you can." A slight smile, but the rest of the stormy concern and annoyance are there, incongrously. She quiets, then, eyes drifting to where Dovoro is at work on the mangled hail.

"Yes sir," Medes replies, tapping at her console and crinkling up her forehead as she does so. Tappity. Tappita. Taptap.

GAME: Medes spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Shipboard Systems skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

"Sir, cartographic data for the system is inconsistent. I detect loose debris and oort cloud variations. It is possible they were caused by the disruption in Irdosia VII." says Va'tol.

Tappita. "Ah." Pause. "I'm picking up a slight signature on the far side of the system... Romulan D'Virin class Incursion Frigate." Medes wrinkles up her nose, biting at her lip for a moment before she continues. "The side closer to the Romulan border," she appends as an afterthought, going on to note, "389 meters long, 12 decks. I'll forward my readings to you, Lt. Finch."

"Curious." Finch murmurs as the information is forwarded to him and he gets straight to brooding on it without delay. That's 389 meters of Romulan frigate alright.

The Andorian operations officer runs her fingers over her console fervishly. "I think I've got it, sir..." And after just a few more seconds of static, the line clears considerably; static is still causing a good deal of background noise, but the message can be clearly heard now.

"<kzzzt>..peat, Cape Fear, this is the USS Princeton. A Romulan science vessel, the D'Tal, has decloaked near the Irdosia system. They've told us that they'd like to perform a routine scan of the system. Please respond."

Dovoro smirks, her antennae perking back up. "Got it," she murmurs.

Standing is the better or worse part of being in security for the officer when on duty remains on her feet most of the shift. Donavon barely adjusts her position as her body bends over the console, stiffening in concentration to locate the flight path of this Ferengi N'gort. She slides fingers over the keys, searching the incoming data for a possible 'light' to the situation while adding what Medes has located, then relaxes once Dovoro clears the static. Back to those Ferengi.

Alarcon frowns even more deeply, now, crossing her arms. "Good work, everyone. Ensign Dovoro--tell the Princeton we confirm Romulan vessel, transmit coordinates of the frigate, size and class. Ensign Donavon, tactical threat comparison between Romulan D'virin Class and USS Princeton." Her tone is smooth and measured, voice even. She may be frowning, but she's being neither short nor curt.

<CONTEST> Donavon contests her Starship Tactics (Naval) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

Ensign Donavon switches readouts in adjusting to the Alarcon's request and gives a brief report, "The Romulan D'virin Class may have us on size, but Princeton makes up for that with the Dominion War refit according to the databanks. We could outclass them in firepower if there is one vessel. I cannot say what would occur if the D'Tal has cloaked friends in the nearby vicinity."

Alarcon nods, thoughtfully. "Ensign Dovoro, please add that information to your hail to the Princeton." Other than that, she remains there with her arms crossed.

Va'tol works on his console, focusing on adjusting the course due the new 'bumps' in the road.

Finch stares at his console, ordering and deciphering the information that pops up for his perusal. Look at me! The data nearly screams, and he tries his best to keep up and set it straight in his mind. Romulans, fluctuations, ferengi and distortions. A veritable party on his interface.

Dovoro nods, acknowledging the order from Alarcon. "Aye, sir." And she immediately begins transmitting the necessary information.

First time out without her superior 'babysitting' and already Donavon is becoming antsy or focused intensely at the whereabouts of the Romulan, Ferengi, and the Federation vessles. "Lieutenant Alarcon," she speaks up while observing her console, "might I suggest we ask the Princeton to do a long range sensor scan on those Ferengi ships? They might be able to get through this interference and get us a number."

"Back on the Princeton, they indicated that their sensors detected 'two or three' Ferengi ships. If they have a more precise number now, or any other pertinent information, we would welcome it." A slight nod to Donavon, and Alarcon falls silent once more.

An hour passes putting the Cape Fear halfway towards it's goal of Irdosia VII and the wreck of the Romulan Warbird that is likely the cause of the local conditions. During that time much effort was put into keeping an eye on the Romulan vessel, on the Ferengi group of uncertain intent and yes, even the state of affairs on Irdosia VII. At this time, the orbital rotation of the target planet is finally in a position to allow a directed scan at the wreck allowing the first serious window of opportunity to explore this matter...

"Lt. Finch, Lt. Medes. Begin scanning the wreckage as soon as we within range. Ensign Va'tol, again, just stay alert and be ready to drop to impulse at my word, then into standard high orbit as was recommended. Continue warp one for now." Again, her eyes slide toward Dovoro, awaiting word back from the Princeton.

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming disadvantage) contests her Shipboard Systems skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

GAME: Medes spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Propulsion Engineering (Fusion) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Blink. Blinkblink. "Oh my." It's never good when Medes just says 'oh my.' "Oh. Prophets." That's worse. "Well." Clearing her throat, Medes notes over her shoulder to Finch, at the opposite console, and Alarcon strutting up there on the command deck, "Well. I have good news and then I have... bad news." A pause, as she continues to tap. "The good news is that the emergency containment system on the Quantum Singularity Drive did survive the impact." Another pause. "The /bad/ news is that the containment system has since decayed. The good news to follow that is that it is not completely gone yet. It is, however, fading, and when it goes, the whole thing is going to fold into it, then the planet and then over time... this'll cause changes in the orbital patterns of the system." A pause. "Over time, this could become an Extinction Level Event on the system's inhabited planet."

<CONTEST> Finch (claiming disadvantage) contests his Shipboard Systems skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

"Acknowledged." Va'tol taps the console one more time, maintaining Warp One for the time being. He seems rather calm despite the news, but again, it's a Vulcan we're talking about.

Finch has a lot of scanning to do and so he gets to it without spending a few minutes doing something largely unnecissary, like break dancing or pausing to reflect on the composition of Pyromorphite, first. He's all business, with his dark eyebrows pinching closer together and his forehead wrinkling with concentration, he could almost burn holes through his console with his eyes if the steady movement of his hands didn't shade it from the intensity of his gaze at times. Sadly, staring daggers at the science station does /not/ help much, so his report is rather terse, "More bad news, sir. The planet's tectonic plates are already being adversely affected by the Quantum Singularity, but I'm having a difficult time getting any more data through the interference while sharing the sensors, sir."

What Medes and Finch have said bares importance to the future. The present conditions is what matters for nearby is an intricate game of chess with a Romulan D'virin Class waiting on the outskirts, the Princeton backing up their Runabout, and two to three Ferengi that may enter this game. To Donavon, spatial positions are visualized internally while maintaining an eye on the console for last minute updates. If this were war, they'd be Poland on the verge of being annexed.

Dovoro raises her voice, flicking antenna as she does, "Sir... we are being hailed -- by the Romulan vessel."

GAME: Alarcon spends a courage point.

GAME: Alarcon spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Space Sciences (Astrophysics) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Alarcon (claiming advantage) contests her Space Sciences (Subspace Field Dynamics) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Alarcon stands perfectly still for a moment, no rocking from heel to toe, not even any increase in frowning. Instead, her face smooths out, and she stares, in lieu of a viewscreen, into the middle distance, completely lost in thought. After this brief hitch in her stiff fidget-avoidance command deck stalking, she begins, smoothly, "Okay, folks. More on our plate than we bargained for, but damn if we can't try and eat it. We need Ambassador K'net-Mauri. If we can't get him on a subspace channel because we're getting closer to the distortions, Dovoro, see if the Princeton can play relay for us. Open a channel to the Romulan vessel on my mark--not just yet. Lt. Finch, Lt. Medes--you two work together, see if we can rig our forward deflector to fire a sustained tachyon burst as quickly as possible. Perhaps if we can fire that burst in the area of the singularity, we can use it as a buffer, help shore up that containment field. Dovoro--you can open that channel, now."

Dovoro nods saying, "Aye sir, openning channel now." She works at her console with deft attention and then says, "Contact with S419 established, they are routing the call to the Ambassador... on audio, go ahead sir."

"Ambassador, good evening. This is Lieutenant Alarcon. I'm sorry to bother you, but I believe we could use your assistance and expertise with a matter of some delicacy... and urgency." Isobel clasps her hands behind her back again, determined not to fidget or stalk too much.

K'net-mauri's deep voice sounds somewhat distracted, and not particularly pleased, as if this is an unwelcome interruption to a former train of thougth. He replies, "Good evening, Lieutenant. And what is this matter?"

Finch leans over his console and gets to work on that deflector dish shooting sustained tachyon burst problem. That's a toughie. Maybe if he pressed several buttons in quick succession he'd look as though he was doing something important. Yes. Perfect. He appears to be quite busy now, fingers tappa-tappa-tapping, frowning and tapping some more.

"I am leading a mission to the Irdosia system to investigate a quantum singularity caused by the collapse of an emergency containment field around the drive of a crashed Warbird. This system has decayed, and over time, this could cause an Extinction Level Event on this system's Prime Directive planet." She rubs the bridge of her nose slightly, continues. "I have a Romulan D'Virin class Incursion Frigate, identifying itself as a science vessel, the D'Tal, decloaked on the side of the system near the Romulan border. They are hailing our runabout, and they have informed us previously that they would like to perform a routine scan of this area... which is both quarantined and restricted space. Frankly, sir... I have some ideas on how to perhaps contain this singularity as a temporary measure, only. Not only could I use your advice on how to handle a situation that relates to such sensitive military technology, but I would be very grateful for your diplomatic assistance, as well. Perhaps... perhaps we and the D'Tal can work together to help avoid disaster in the Irdosia system."

Medes turns over her shoulder to Alarcon, murmuring just below comm range, "Sir, permission to organize the reconfiguration? I'll need to pull assistance from everyone who can manage it."

Alarcon gives Medes an affirming nod, the corners of her lips turning upward in a slight smile. She remains focused on her subspace conversation, otherwise.

"If the D'tal is hailing you," replies the disembodied voice of K'net-mauri, "I suggest you answer them. That vessel is there to remove the remains of the Kalar'nostrom from Irdosia VII, and to properly dispose of its quantum singularity core. I suggest you allow them to perform their scans and get on with their project, if this decay concerns you." A pause. "I understand your quarantine. They will not remain for long."

"Okay," Medes turns over her shoulder, then, getting up out of her chair after a moment. She's too short to see over the backs of the chairs, she ought to know this by now. "Mister Donavon, Mister Va'tol, I'm going to need your assistance as well on this. It'll take about fifteen minutes all told to reconfigure the forward deflector. I'm going to assign you each a portion of the task, and if you have difficulty, let me know, I'll work with you on it." She goes about parceling out the tasks, then, starting with Va'tol at Conn and working her way around. If she notices that Finch doesn't so much look like he knows what he's doing, well, she politely doesn't mention it, instead giving instruction in geektalk he might understand.

Finch swivels around in his chair to peer over at Medes with his eyebrows popping upwards like two tiny scared rabbits about to run for cover. His expression is quite clear and reads as such: "You're the engineer, cough up the master engineering type plan, quick." A smile, terse and uncertain as it is appears a moment later after her geektalk settles in like a warm fuzzy blanket of comfort to wrap himself up in. Aaah. There's a tranquil nod, and then he swings back around to let his fingers walk along the console.

Va'tol nods, changing directories in his console. "Yes, sir." This isn't exactly his his speciality, but he might as well try..

<CONTEST> Medes contests her Command skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Donavon (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

<CONTEST> Va'tol (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Finch (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

Alarcon pauses in the stalking she hadn't realized she was doing, against her own wishes. Straightening up a little, she replies, "Thank you for your advice, Ambassador. There is a Ferengi raiding party on its way to the wreckage, as well. Quite a little gathering we have, here in Irdosia. I am slightly additionally concerned that the fading containment field could collapse at any moment. We are right here, and we will very shortly have the capability to bolster that field. Without help, that singularity could cause the wreckage and the planet upon which it sits to fold into it, quite literally at any moment. If we assist the more distant D'tal, perhaps we can have everything taken care of before the Ferengi ships arrive." Cautiously, she plays her final card.

While Va'tol is busy with the reconfiguration project, Dovoro reconfigures her console for joint Ops and Flight Control, not changing the course but making sure it's being monitored actively all things considered.

<CONTEST> Medes (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Succeeds!

Geektalk flies over Donavon's head but an ear does listen in. She quriks an eyebrow while lowering her head to an affirmative nod. Time to reconfigure the forward deflector by doing what? Obviously, engineering was never her gig that's why she went into security. Confusion riddles her brow at the inability to complete a minor task.

K'net-mauri's voice is dry. "To be honest, I don't know very much about how to take a quantum singularity -apart-. And if I did, I would hesitate to comment on that particular situation. Permit D'tal to make her scans. If you have a plan to stablise or augment the containment field, I suggest you consult with their specialist about it. You may find it safer to delay the Ferengi."

Va'tol somehow manages to work on the engineering commands of the ship and pull part of the reconfiguration task.

Unable to blame 'interference' if he mangles this task, Finch seems to pull out the stops and with the help of Medes concise geektalk, he appears to be largely successful on his end. For a change, he actually grins, but he saves that languid flash of teeth for the science station and probably just barely restrains himself from giving his console a congratulatory pat.

Medes hunches over her terminal, muttering to herself and flattening her lips into a line. Stubby little fingers move over her console, and she murmurs thanks as the various portions come in, blowing out an irritated breath and stopping in her work to tweak a bit of Donavon's contribution, though thanks is murmured to the Security officer nonetheless. Minutes tick past, and when Thea finally looks up and notes the time on her chronometer after saying, "Finished," she blinks a few times. "Wow. Good work, everyone. Fifteen minutes is the fastest this can be done. I'm ...impressed."

Alarcon is still smooth and pleasant, although she has resumed with some minor pacing as she speaks with the Ambassador. "Again, I appreciate your advice. I would never ask you to compromise the integrity of your scientific and military secrets. I will be pleased to go over our plan to stabilize the containment field with the D'tal's specialists, and I will more than happily distract the Ferengi while you help gain the cooperation of the D'tal in these matters before I speak with them, or even as I speak with them. Your assistance in this matter would be invaluable, and make the process so much easier--not to mention rapid--for all concerned. Working together, I can see no reason to object to the D'tal's scans."

There cannot help be a distant tweak of her lips to form a smirk for Donavon is disappointed in herself. They might have broken that timeframe /if/ she understood engineering better. All the same, she murmurs a soft 'you're welcome' back to Medes before returning attentions to the vessels close by.

K'net-mauri hesitates, then replies rather flatly, "Ah. I will contact them. Return their hail."

Alarcon resists the urge to do the elaborate I-WIN dance... even if there isn't a viewscreen here, she needs to maintain some kind of decorum. With a slight incline of her head to the absent K'net-Mauri, she replies, "Thank you very much, Ambassador. Dovoro, return the D'tal's hail. Open a channel so that the Ambassador and I may speak with them." She gives Medes & Co. a belated thumbs-up, and notes, "Good work. Be ready to fire tachyon burst as configured to the area of the crash and singularity."

Dovoro says, "Aye aye sir. Answering the hail and configuring it for multichannel interface... and on audio."

"Yes sir," Medes replies, quirking up one corner of her mouth and letting her hands idle on the edge of her console.

. o O Alarcon thinks "I WIN I WIN I WIN LA LA LA!"

From the Audio comes a female voice, "Federation vessel Cape Fear, this is the D'tal. We are here to recover the Kalar'nostrom and have come a long way in quite a hurry. We must insist you stop scanning the wreckage for your intelligence gathering purposes. We have launched our own light craft that is inbound to the crash site and we encourage you to be withdrawn before it arrives." There is a pause as if the speaker is listening to someone else before comes, "Please."

"Greetings, D'tal. This is Lieutenant Alarcon of the Cape Fear. Via subspace I have Romulan Ambassador to Federation Station 419-U, K'net-Mauri, on multi-channel audio interface to speak with us. The emergency containment field around the singularity is fading quickly. We have devised a method we think may very well bolster the field long enough for your team to reach the site and recover your wreckage. A Ferengi raiding party has also been detected headed for the crash site. With our assistance, which we offer, perhaps everything can be cleared up before they reach here. Moreso if we divert them, which is likewise something the Ambassador and I were discussing. Ambassador?" Isobel keeps her tone light and friendly, smiling brightly even though none of the Romulans can see.

Finch keeps quiet and returns to interpreting the sensor data that scrolls on his console. Yep, Irdosia's still doomed, the Ferengi are still on the way and those Romulans they're still lurking about. He rubs at the back of his neck absently and then punches in a few commands, looking mildly strained. He probably hasn't had this much sustained excitement in like, forever, if adding to his rock collection is discounted.

K'net-mauri's deep voice comes over, "Providing the D'tal's expertise reveals that you are correct about the fading containment field, and that your plan to bolster the field will not prove to be disasterously ineffective, I imagine your assistance will be of value to us. In either case, Ferengi raiders are unlikely to make things easier, and again we would be appreciative."

"Ah." comes the female voice. "I am Commander Latan. Since you have the Ambassador's patronage in this matter I am of course willing to consider your suggestion. As to the Ferengi, they are in your space, what you do with them is up to you unless they act against us or our property, then we'll deal with them as is traditional." A pause then the voice resumes, "If you wish to dissuade their approach, I support the thought behind the matter, if you heard them into the neutral zone, perhaps they can be dissuaded more artfully." Another pause, "In the mean time, Lieutenant, what is your idea regarding the difficulty on the planet?"

Va'tol remains silent during the 'diplomatic' meeting, focused on what he does best: Reading the maps and getting the ship moving.

The threat from point A diminishes with the assistance of the Ambassador and the Lieutenant. Donavon mentally scratches the D'tal off the list and stares at the sensor readouts at how close the Ferengi are. She smirks at the Romulan's suggestion to herd the Ferengi, more like lure them to money for a crash site is prime location to raid.

. o O K'net-mauri sighs a warm inward sigh, nostalgic. He misses his ships' command, when he got to do 'artful dissuasion' on Latan's less literal level. Smaller and simpler and so much more fun.

This time, Alarcon does not have to fake the grin that spreads across her features. She pauses in her stalking, even, and rocks from heel to toe once before launching into her explanation. "We have configured our forward deflector to fire a sustained tachyon burst in the area of the singularity that I predict will indeed act as a buffer, shoring up the dying emergency containment field for the time being. We are ready to go with this burst at your word. As for the Ferengi, we will take care of diverting them from the Irdosia system. Do you, with your superior knowledge of Quantum Singularity Drives, think that this is indeed a viable plan?"

Medes waits patiently for orders, rolling her lips inward and biting them as the female voice comes back on the speakers, its tone much-changed. Oh ho! says her expression, which is fortunately directed at her console. Oh ho, console, your attitude is much different /now!/

. o O Medes thinks "Prophets, that is /funny./"

"ETA to high orbit, 19 minutes sir.." adds the Vulcan in his cool tone of voice, never taking his eyes away from the console.

"That is... " A long moment of silence. "A very perceptive innovative stop-gap measure." Another extended moment. "Perhaps a bit more, forced then our own methods but all things considered very viable as a temporary control of the deteriorating situation. Very well, if you would transmit your data for our specialists to go over before implementing the procedure I believe we can work together to deal with this problem and thus safeguard the potential of this developing species and demonstrate again how it is possible for the Federation's Starfleet and the Romulan Star Navy to work cooperatively for the benefit of junior races in our space. If the Ambassador approves of this joint operation, that is?"

K'net-mauri replies shortly, "Of course."

Alarcon maintains her pleased composure--not that it seems difficult. "Thank you very much, Commander Latan, Ambassador K'net-Mauri. We will transmit the requested data. Lieutenant Medes, please standby to commence sustained burst once we have received confirmation from the D'tal's specialists. Ensign Dovoro, once this multichannel transmission has ended, please open a communications channel with the Princeton so that we may handle the matter of the Ferengi." Alarcon waits for the communication to be ended with the Cmdr and Ambassador before she continues.

"...and transmit the requested information to the D'tal, Ensign," adds Alarcon, to Dovoro.

Va'tol leans back against his chair, staring at the bleeping console. ETA is still 19 minutes, so as long as nothing pops up in their course it should be a considerably calm trip.

K'net-mauri pauses a moment before replying. "Jolan'tru," he says simply. "Contact me again should you find it necessary." He makes no further farewell, just kills the channel.

Dovoro says again, "Aye aye sir" and within moments, Alarcon's will is made manifest in actuality.

Finch is just doing stuff at the science station. Important stuff. He's probably listening to the conversation as well, it's tough not to.

Medes's fingers wait over her console for the command to commence the sustained burst, "Yes sir." She taps her heels on the floor of the shuttle, feet bouncing on the anchor points of her toes. 'Let's get this done so we can go home' practically radiates off of her, as she awaits her Important Engineering Task.

Despite the gnawing nerve as what might occur if these Ferengi Raiders arrive earlier than expected, Donavon is fairly relaxed. Moreso, when she casts a glance at Medes' back and is about to blurt out about no body carrying but ends up biting on her tongue - Don't want to jinx it.

Against the void of space and stars the Runabout Cape Fear slides into a high orbit and then reorientates above the savage planet below. From it's fowards deflector comes nothing visible, but that it's performing some task is clear to the eye, and as it does three Romulan shuttles decloak and pass by on all three sides heading for the surface until they are lost from sight. Looming closer then, coming out of warp is the D'Tal which takes station also in high orbit, it's presence dwarfing the dimininutive Cape Fear. Mutual cooperation. Allies. Perhaps the future holds promise for this idea after all...