Deus Ex Machina

 Episode Name:  Deus Ex Machina

   Written By:  Fortunae

         Cast:  Donavon, Fortunae, Havaris, Javits, Nilee, Poole and Va'tol.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Fortunae

     Aired On:  Mon Jul 21 05:13:42 2003

     Stardate:  53376

Time: Sun Jul 20 20:40:30 2003

Stardate: 53375.2

Dulcais Sector, on the Federation side of the Romulan Neutral Zone, the Thomas Paine cruises at an elevated clip of warp against the back drop of space. On the bridge, Commander Gwendolyn Poole sits with her mission bridge crew arranged around her working at their stations. The forward view screen is on and shows a display of a major rogue asteroid debris field with a computer supplied image of where the border interests the spinning chunks of rock -- dispersed so as to be easily avoidable at any reasonable impulse speed but inconveniently clustered when making a speed in excess of Warp 9.

"Captain's Log, U.S.S Thomas Paine, Stardate 53375.2. We have been making best possible speed since leaving S419 on a mission to follow up on several different leads that have come to Sector Command in the last 72 hours. The closest to home was the analysis at Dulcais of the signal data the mission team sent from S419 to DS-121; it pinpointed a reasonably accurate source location for the signal of what looked to be something very similar to a Borg Transmission. Needless to say, we are proceeding with as much caution as we can.

Signal Intelligence focused in on the Teiran/Rynkan sphere picked up a Romulan fast combat vessel breaking away from their picket fleet within their own space giving support to the five vessels actually orbiting in Teiran space. They began tracking it on a course heading very similar to the one that was the origin of the signal sent two weeks ago from that location.

A Tellarite trader captain filed a report about a mysterious vessel in that general area that she has seen several weeks prior, not of a class she had ever seen before in her forty some odd years of space experience. That vessel was run through the data bases of the FIS and spit back out a vessel called the Cyberiad that had fled from the Bolarus system after members of it's crew were responsible for sparking off a riot in a Starbase bar; interesting thing about the Cyberiad - it is registered to the Hanomal/Simden Investment Group, which is a break away division formerly of Chiba Orgatech - it's bionic technology division. My crew is still researching into this background as we hurry out to find what we believe is the Cyberiad and the source of the Borg like transmission, before the Romulans find them. Starfleet Intelligence is sure is that this mysterious ship is their ship's destination. It has become a race then, one in which the loser will pay an unforseen cost." At this, Poole looks up and around at her bridge crew, summoning up that courage she is known for.

Havaris mans his post with a rather casual stance all things told, leaning to the side in his seat with his chin caught on his thumb, a pointer finger alongside his nose, and the rest curled variously over his mouth. His gaze is intently monitoring the warp drive's efficiency and the no less important and far less reliable stock of coolant slush inexorably burning away as the Paine's engine's plunge them ever onward. Mention of the Borg passes the Bajoran by without any evidence whatsoever of chagrin or fear. A surefire sign that it's hiding in there somewhere.

Nilee has been sitting rather idly monitoring the sensors for the past little while. He visibly does a double take at something on his console and begins to examine something closer before speaking up, "Uhmm, Captain. I'm getting something on sensors here... I'm not sure, but it could be several fast moving cloaked vessels... probably three on the other side of the Neutral Zone. According to the position I'm getting, if they were to cross the neutral zone, we'd still have a good five hours on them to our present destination."

Javits exits the turbolift before the doors are completely open, taking a swift direct line to the engineering station at the rear of the bridge. With a glance back, the crewman currently on duty logs out and clears the chair for the approaching officer, who, with a friendly nod and a brief smile, claims the vacated seat and logs in, making a few adjustments to his configuration before getting down to business, tapping several areas of the console and peering at the station's display with a studious frown. His attention doesn't waver at Nilee's report, save for a deepening of his frown and a few blinks, accompanied by a mild shake of his head.

"Sir, we will be reaching the belt in approximately 3 minutes. I suggest we drop to Impulse speed for safety..", speaks out the vulcan, seated on the helmsman station. His control starts to beep a few seconds later. "Our lateral sensor scans have not picked any vessels, but I have detected an ion trail. It shouldn't be hard to follow to it's source.", adds Va'tol.

With its own importance there sits Ensign Donavon at tactical who intensely is studying the readouts. She bites once upon her lower lip, all /was/ green and good, but the news stated by Nilee has her immediately re-scanning the integrity of the starship. A bit of news, but nothing too serious though she does announce, "There's a slight flutter in the starboard torpedo bank. I'll note upon arriving back on the Station to have someone check the firing capaciter cell."

. o O Javits thinks "Borg. First time for everything, I suppose."

Nodding at the reports of possible cloaked ships, Poole looks to Havaris, "How wise do you think it would be to send them a warning not to cross into Federation space?" Wearing a slight smile, but a mostly serious expression, she moves on to other orders, "Slow to impulse at the edge of the system. I want passive scans only, no sense alerting whoever -is- here to our presence straight away. Follow the ion trail." So that'd be orders for sciences and flight control right there. "Tactical, remain at green alert for now. ... and Mr. Javits, see what you can do about that starboard torpedo bank from here."

"If there's an Ion trail to follow, Sir," Havaris notes in a touch of a mumble, "we aren't trailing a very professional crew. They're rather adept at hiding, merchants, just not particularly adept at hiding where." Havaris tacks on in a morale boosting observation, "Could be a trap, too, of course. All systems nominal from my side of the ship."

Poole rolls her eyes at Havaris, "It's always a trap, isn't it?... Will you stop worrying?" Alright, ask the impossible. "Or at least wait until there's actual proof of threat?"

"We know they are there at present, Sir. If they have a mind to cross, they will cloak and do so and our vessel is in no position to stop them even if we had permission. Three on one is long odds when the three are D'Deridex and the one is a Brilliant Class. In any event, telling them not to just means they will cloak when they do. I would save the energy and the air." Havaris glances back to Poole with a small shrug before looking back to his console. "They're Romulans, Sir." Proof of threat implicit, he seems to mean.

Javits responds with a clipped, "Aye, sir." Then continues with a more relaxed but still firm, "Dispatching a team to asses the matter. Will monitor and report their progress." This said, he activates the appropriate circuits to notify the proper two crewman team and brief them on their task, then returns to monitoring the ship's status.

Knuckles are cracked as Donavon takes a moment to ease the tension that certainly will escalate during this mission. It's inevitable. She nods at the order while glancing about the bridge and then eyes back upon the console. D'Deridexs or not, any ship that has the possibility of taking on the offensive is worth being ready for.

Poole nods once to Havaris and settles back into her chair. "They are Romulans. And this is the Thomas Paine. And ... I am Gwen Poole." Said with a confidence that somehow doesn't come out sounding arrogant. "Let's focus on finding what there is in this system first. If they come, they'll be sorry they did."

The Vulcan's fingers dance across the console as orders are given. He drops the ship to Impulse and then locks on the ion trail, heading to follow it..

. o O Havaris thinks "Borg. Likely Borg in the bodies of Cardassians, Nausicaans, and Jem'hadar. Carrying the severed heads of baby foxes with little Bajoran ridges on them. Saying unkind things about the Prophets while pissing on the Federation flag. No. I am not a pessimist, why do you ask?"

Moments later the view screen shows the rocky field is now no longer far away, but around the Thomas Paine as is slips impulse smooth along the course laid out like bread crumps by an Ion trail.

"Priority one message incoming from Sector Command, Sir," Havaris notes as his terminal begins flashing a pretty pink LCARS hilight, "opening it at my terminal. I will forward it your way once it is decrypted." Havaris lifts his head up to put both hands to work in this pursuit.

Poole nods and waits for the decryption to go through. "Slow us to one quarter impulse and use passive scanners to search for that possible ion trail."

"Aye, sir.." Va'tol taps his pad, dropping speed to one quarter.

Nilee has returned to monitoring his sensors quietly, nothing overly exciting except some of the notable asteroid formations in the area, he is a scientist after all, so that's exciting. He looks over at a second readout at his controls, however, and blinks once. Then twice. Looking up suddenly, "Captain?" He says rather loudly, louder then he needed to get her attention more than likely, "I'm detecting an extremely large power surge all around the Thomas Paine... I can't pinpoint the cause."

Suddenly the Thomas Paine shakes and is buffeted as if bashed by an ion storm out of nowhere, the bridge overhead lights explode in a shower of small sparks and the Red Alert Klaxon begins blaring evens as several consoles on the Bridge follow the example of the overhead lights and blow outward or discharge electrical shocks into the unfortunate crew who are unable to get out of the way.

The Viewscreen itself cracks and now the image of static on the screen indicative of a major problem with the sensors has factured lines running through it.. as for the crew...

. o O Poole thinks "Mother... father... I cannot see you yet. Prophets, hold this ship together. Hold it. Make it stand fast."

"Report... /Damage report/," Poole barks, holding onto her chair for dear life. For good measure, she adds, "Scramble the damage control teams immediately."

<CONTEST> Poole contests her Athletics skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

GAME: Poole spends a courage point.

GAME: Javits spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Fitness (Vitality) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Javits (claiming advantage) contests his Dodge skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<CONTEST> Va'tol contests his Dodge skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<CONTEST> Javits (claiming advantage) contests his Fitness (Vitality) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

GAME: Va'tol spends a courage point.

GAME: Nilee spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Va'tol (claiming advantage) contests his Fitness (Vitality) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<CONTEST> Nilee (claiming advantage) contests his Dodge skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Dramatically Fails!

<CONTEST> Donavon contests her Dodge skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<CONTEST> Donavon contests her Fitness (Vitality) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<CONTEST> Havaris (claiming advantage) contests his Dodge skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

GAME: Havaris spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Havaris (claiming advantage) contests his Fitness (Vitality) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

Javits yelps loudly as the engineering station explodes in a shower of sparks, sending him flying out of his chair and crashing to the deck, where he lands with a hollow thump to lie very still, tiny tendrils of smoke rising from his scorched and blackened uniform. His one sign of life is a low, pained groan, probably from the effects of having his face and hands scorched by the overloaded circuits.

"Sir, we ca--..." Va'tol trembles on his seat, grasping the sides of his console, trying to hold on. The Vulcan is thrown of his chair despite his best efforts, falling hard on the floor and rolling aside until the body hits the wall. He stays down, motionless. Both eyes are closed, and green blood trickles down his forehead.

Havaris glances up rather sharply as the lights dim then blow out, only to look back at her terminal and begin working more furiously on his task. "Stand by, Sir," he notes calmly rather thoroughly ignoring what's coming or what may be coming. When his own terminal begins to crackle and fade, Havaris' expression transitions into a scowl and he pounds a fist on it in a manner his Engineer wife would admire. "Not /yet/!" When it begins to crackle, Havaris' eyes widen slightly and he begins to roll from his seat to get the heck out of the way. The terminal blows rather precisely at that moment, blasting his right side with fragments and shrapnel and breaking the seat back from his station clean off as it shoots him across the bridge a few meters to slide to a stop in a fetal curl, smouldering slightly. He looks, for all the world, like a rather sweetly dozing child, baked at 350 for one hour or until golden brown.

The hum of a sudden surge of electricity is all Nilee hears, a twinge of pain and then he hits the ground with the dull thud of an unconscious body hitting the floor. He does manage to emit a quick outburst of pain, though it's more likely an unconscious reaction. His hands are charred black where the electric charge traversed from his damaged console to his flesh well it sparked and exploded. The cuffs of his uniform chared also and smoke drifts from his singed uniform. The rest of his uniform isn't spared from the damage either.

. o O Havaris thinks "Oh-ho-ho... If this is what I think it is, I am going to /enjoy/ this... Cross reference... Children of the Code... Hmm. And. Yes. That file. And that file. Process. Wait patiently while the ceiling explodes-- Prophets! Work! Faster! Fasterfaster! Not fast enou--" A blank moment. "Thea." And curtains, people."

The immediate flare of the Red Alert Klaxon rings within Ensign Donavon's ears. Reports will be needed and she must act quickly. Bent over the console, fingers flying over the keys in haste there is little time to anticipate what is to come next after the ship shake again. An explosion of electric sparks erupts from the screen and sends Donavon reeling backwards, out of the chair. She flies off and crashes hard against the ground, body smoking and uniform torn in various places. Teeth chatter with a low groan before the security officer's face smacks down again and sights blacken.

<PROVE> Poole has the flaw of Romantic Attachment at -1.

Catapulted from her seat, Poole lands splayed on the ground, head glancing off a chair. She is still on the floor a moment before pulling herself to her knees, blood trickling from her mouth. Shaking her head and trying to get her bearings, she looks blearily around the bridge... and her expression falters. It's her nightmare. The worst of her nightmares. In a too hoarse voice, she calls out, "/Report/... Damage report... Prophets... God... no..." A little more steady, "Medical team to the bridge, this is an emergen..." her voice falters when her eyes light on Havaris, a shudder traveling down her spine and she howls, "No!" as she staggers over.

. o O Poole thinks "Not like this... not like this."

The Red Alert Klaxon continues to wail while the ship's automatic fire supression systems kick on to put out fires around the bridge. Many consoles continue to flash brokenly with portions of their displays dark and thus providing only partial information. There is no response to Poole's request for a damage report. There is no response to Poole's request for a medical team. And as to her howl, there is no response to that either.

GAME: Poole spends a courage point.

Poole lays a shuddering hand on Kusto's body. She trembles. Gwen Poole: reduced to a tiny quivering mass of goo. Then she stiffens, her inner strength coming back to her. She tears herself away from him and moves to whichever console can still display the most... trying to bring up communications. If this is the way they all go, then there is one last thing for her to do.

The static on the view screen lessens, though the snow is still quite strong as the vessel's systems routes through secondary and even tertiarty systems to attempt to return to functionality. On the cracked screen a vessel can been see coming closer, though at an off angle to the typical flight approach along the galatic median. As Poole trembles she can see what looks like a bluish beam that may be a tractor type in nature lance out from the unknown vessel... unknown? Perhaps the one she came seeking...

GAME: Poole spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Command) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Command) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

"Oh... the hell you do..." growls Poole fiercely. She works, trying to get to communications, frowning when she can't get the encryption to work, "Mayday, I repeat, mayday, this is Leftenant Commander Gwen Poole, commanding the USS Thomas Paine out of Station 419... we've sustained what appears to be major damage... we request immediate assistance..."

The calm and earnest if dispassionate voice of the ship's computer suddenly comes to life, "Warning, Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert. Unauthorized personnel in main engineering. Warning." The three angry beeps follow that announcement's verbal alert and Poole can hear the whine of a transport signature... even as she looks toward it the absence of Va'tol, Havaris, Donavon, Nilee and Javit's is immediately apparent....

It's a reaction in stages. First? Disbelief. Second? Perception. Third? Unholy anger. Poole smashes a fist down on the non-console side of her chair and begins working again. She attempts to vacate all the air out of main engineering.

And as she works furiously to coax the ship's systems to heed her will and accept the focused energy of her fury... she becomes blue twinkles of light and the bridge of the Thomas Paine is lost to her...

Brown eyes open, they are Poole's. She seems to be alive. She seems to be... laying down on a bed, the ceiling above her a medical blue-white in color and rather drab. She can hear. She can hear... the background sounds of an infirmary? She can move. She does not seem to be strapped down. But she doesn't seem to be clothed except for a sheet/blanket that has been placed atop her.

Given what she last saw and where she knew herself to be last... that nightmare on her bridge... Poole is quite startled by the suddenly abrupt change of scenary and sits up, the sheet falling down. She's gone into survival mode as she peers about. There must be an enemy to kick in the nuts somewhere around here. Venting that anger is more important than modesty at this point.

Meanwhile, Havaris reclines in a slouch in a chair within the dining room of the facility belonging to their simulataneous captors and rescuers. Out of uniform and unarmed, dressed in some homespun and natural toned fabrics, Havaris looks more or less at home. Drop him on Bajor and he could be farming before sunset. Circumstances do not allow this, however. Instead, the Bajoran's attention is focussed squarely on the wall directly opposite his seat, his expression pensive as his thumbs calmly tap above his stomach, hands otherwise folded. For an XO apparently in command of an 'away team', he's being rather laissez-faire about the whole business.

. o O Poole thinks "What... the... /hell/."

A woman in a beige medical scrubs outfit and cap approaches the biobed with Poole on it saying, "Ah Commander, you're awake. Welcome back to consciousness and welcome to Gabriel Station, I'm Doctor Honeycut, your attending physician. All in all, you were in pretty fine shape, Commander -- except your stress levels were very very high... you may consider altering your diet or taking some stress therapy when you get back to your home base." She considers, "Would you like some clothes? Are you hungry? I believe Doctor Monroe has most of your senior officers awaiting dinner, if you move with some alacrity you can surely join them before they start."

Poole centers her gaze squarely on the woman, clearly thinking she's out of her mind. "What the hell are you talking about? Where is my ship?... Where's my crew?" She sets her jaw in the way she has a habit of doing and rolls off the bed, gathering the blanket about herself loosely. "Stay where you are."

. o O Poole thinks "What the hell is going /on/."

. o O Poole feels a surge of confusion and anger.

The Doctor levels an equally confident and imperious gaze back at Poole, Doctors being well trained in such things. "I am talking about your injuries and recover from same and future health risks for you if you don't practice some more conscientious stress handling techniques, you aren't a teenager any more Commander." She pauses deliberately. "Your ship was towed alongside this station where I believe some repairs are being made on it." Another deliberate pause. "Your crew is all aboard this facility, as I was mentioning if you feel up to it and are hungry I can arrange to have you brought to meet your senior officers with Doctor Monroe if you don't dawddle."

Poole is clearly still angry and suspicious, but she pulls herself together enough to ask, "Stress?... Do -not- talk to me about stress, you uppity bi..." She cuts herself off and works her jaw a bit, "Bring me my clothes. I'll join my crew immediately."

. o O Poole thinks "Yea... they were hurt, not me... but they're already up and about? If you think I believe that, you must /really/ think I am an idiot."

The doctor makes a disapproving expression regarding Poole's behavior. She purses her lips and says, "It seems that first casulty of the Dominion War was not innocence but manners, in particular the word please or the concept of thank you. Perhaps I should have slated you for a longer nap while we worked on your personnel and then you would be less cranky." She pushes her wrist, where a communicator apparently is and says, "Selvek, please bring the commander some clothing and then escort her to Doctor Monroe's dining room to join her crew, I am quite finished with her." Doctor Honeycut then looks toward Poole again, "Enjoy your dinner, Commander."

She leaves, and moments later a Vulcanoid male enters wearing a similar fashion, and he deposits the clothing for Poole and waits for her to robe herself in the simple woven cotton pullover and spun loose drawstring pants and slip on sandels... he leads her out of the ultra-modern infirmary and to a corridor that has it's far side wall clearly made of unfinished natural stone, perhaps indicative of an asteroid base of some sort... Meanwhile, within the modern yet cozy dining room of the as yet unseen Doctor Monroe...

Havaris reclines in a slouch in a chair within the dining room of the facility belonging to their simulataneous captors and rescuers. Out of uniform and unarmed, dressed in some homespun and natural toned fabrics, Havaris looks more or less at home. Drop him on Bajor and he could be farming before sunset. Circumstances do not allow this, however. Instead, the Bajoran's attention is focussed squarely on the wall directly opposite his seat, his expression pensive as his thumbs calmly tap above his stomach, hands otherwise folded. For an XO apparently in command of an 'away team', he's being rather laissez-faire about the whole business.

If at all out of being anxious at the loss of her weapon, Ensign Donavon paces down the length of the dining room. Even without the presence of her uniform, replaced with the simplistic brown and white cottons, her mannerisms take on a serious edge as arms are brought over her chest. She certainly isn't uncomfortable in these clothes, feeling entirely at ease in what she may have worn back home on Terra. But at present, she isn't in a jolly mood to toss back a few at the pub followed by a randy brawl. No, she's concerned about these people if not suspicious about this Station. Donavon gradually surveys the dining room yet again, attempting to piece together the puzzle in her head.

. o O Donavon thinks ""Removing our phasers that I can understand falling into a security policy, but our communicators as well? Why the necessity to keep us from contacting the Federation unless there's something to hide here?""

Javits sits ramrod straight in his chair, arms crossed firmly over his chest as he stares a hole in the opposite wall, a decidedly disgruntled, uncomfortable frown etched into his features. His current lack of eyebrows only serves to give the expression a more comical edge.

Va'tol is seated with the others, dressed in similar outfit. He doesn't look happy. Or sad. Well, he's a Vulcan. He doesn't look anything but calm and oblivious. His eyes are shifted to Poole as she arrives, raising from his chair to welcome her with a curt nod..

When they were brought in, Nilee managed to find a seat next to Havaris. He remains quiet for several moments, going over what happened in those few moments before he lost consciousness, and what has happened since then. He leans over slightly and speaks quietly to Havaris, "It might just be me, but this doesn't feel right. I'm not one to rely on gut feelings, but, if they are operating as big a project as it sounds, I would think I might have heard something about it, and I've been reading all the recent science reports from the station since I've been back." He keeps his voice low during his statement to Havaris. He shrugs again, "Maybe they just haven't published anything though."

Va'tol is seated with the others, dressed in similar outfit. He doesn't look happy. Or sad. Well, he's a Vulcan. He doesn't look anything but calm and oblivious. The Ensign stays silent, using this time to studying the enviroment..

"Something like that," Havaris murmurs quietly in reply to Nilee, "Doctor Monroe... it's a bit foggy. But the report that came in mentioned he was a bit of a crack pot cyberware engineer. He cracked after the market dried up in the wake of Wolf 359 and came out of mothballs in 2369 on some religious track that seemed to have put his psyche back together. This is a church, Mister Nilee. A big. Floating. Temple." The ironies are not lost on the Bajoran, it seems, because he's smirking faintly.

A bad habit of Donavon's for a series of pops emit when she cracks her knuckles once again. Nerves teetering if the Ensign was sitting down her foot would be tapping a million times a minute. She overhears a bit of what Nilee and Havaris mutter in passing by the table. "If this is a sanctuary or a refuge, why are we not allowed to contact the Federation unless this place is something more?"

Javits breaks his pseudo-catatonic position to tug at his shirt, his expression clearly displaying his dislike for the change of clothing, not to mention lack of anything remotely resembling a tricorder, PADD, or compin. After a grumble and a swipe at his hairless brow, he returns to his previous state, as if he never changed position.

Nilee shrugs his shoulders lightly in response to Donavon, raising his voice slightly to speak clearly enough across to her, "Well, they haven't said we can't contact them yet..." He pauses, "True they haven't given us an opportunity... and they've taken away our electronics..." He shakes his head, "We'll have to see what this Monroe fellow says."

"Just so," Havaris notes calmly, "anything else is going to be rather pointless supposition if not outright hyperbole. Me? I intend to have a good, sultifying meal before the Romulans uncloak and blow us into the vacuum." There's a reason Havaris isn't the morale officer. "Why don't you sit down, Ensign, you're making me nervous."

<CONTEST> Javits (claiming disadvantage) contests his Primitive Weaponry (Knife) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

Javits' next action is to swiftly snap up the nearest sharp pointy thing, or at least something closely resembling it. A butter knife is far from it. Nevertheless, he flips it at the opposite wall, where it hits sideways with a loud metallic *PING* before clattering to the floor. Maybe he's been spending too much time in the company of Klingons.

Va'tol remains silent, listening to the words from the rest of the crew and assimilating all the new information. He decides to stay optimistic about the invitation, taking the good doctor is just being a nice host.

Poole enters wearing a petulant frown. She doesn't like this. None of it 'smells' right. Her gut instincts are trying to tell her something. What can she do though? Looking about the room, her spirits rise rather rapidly, a smile finally blossoming into view when she sees Havaris brooding in a chair.

"Lieutenant Javits," Havaris begins quietly and without a glance to the officer, "get up out of your chair, walk around the table, pick up your knife, walk back around the table, and sit back down. Then? Stop throwing your silverware. Let's pretend for a moment that we're officers." Havaris glances to the door for a brief moment as Poole sweeps in. It's a subtle change, but Havaris' shoulders lower slightly and his expression eases a touch. "Commander." Good to see you.

Not licked yet and not succumbing to such darker thoughts as the Romulans or even the Borg arriving, Donavon strides towards a vacated seat, plopping down next to Javits. A jest of sorts is murmured to him, "Weren't you told not to play at the dinner table?" She adds a wink for justice before calming down a tad and begins to patiently wait for answers. Enter one being Poole. A grin is halfway crack then lips are drawn back into a smirk. She rises to wait for the Lt. Commander to take a seat.

Va'tol rises from his seat at the sight of the Commander, clasping his hands behind his back and straightening up, as if they were still in the Bridge. "Sir.", he says cooly.

Javits silently proceeds as ordered, returning the knife to its proper place and himself to his seat, where he resumes his attempts to stare a hole in the wall. He does rise at Poole's entrance, still retaining his training in the way of proper customs and courtesies, his arms falling to his side and his expression relaxing somewhat.

Nilee jumps in his seat slightly at the sudden clattering of silverware. His nerves are already thin, having been knocked unconscious by an exploding console, and then waking up on an unknown research station, the falling knife doesn't help much at all. As he connects the source of the clattering to Javits he grimaces slightly and then looks to Havaris as he scolds the officer. Yep, Kusto's not going to have trouble in the discipline departement when he becomes a father. He shakes his head slowly, returning to silent contemplation. He looks towards Poole as she arrives and smiles, atleast things are starting to look up.

"Kusto." Poole doesn't bother with the formalities. She throws them out the airlock. Also, she speaks rather plainly. "I didn't know how I was going to explain to Thea..." Trailing off, she clears her throat and nods once, heading for an empty seat. "Before I slip my commander's mask back on... I just want to tell you all that ... seeing you all alright... I can only hope I'm not dreaming."

Va'tol glances at Javits rapidly, quirking a brow. "I assure you are not dreaming, Lt. Commander..", speaks out the Vulcan, stating the obvious before sitting back down..

. o O Javits thinks "That goes for all of us, Commander."

Javits resumes his seat, and his usual wall damage via eye beams attempts, complete with the proper position and expression.

Havaris is the only officer to not find his feet, for whatever reason. He remains placidly in his chair, hands laced calmly across his stomach, thumbs pressed together. His lips quirk faintly at Gwen's reply, the nascent smile fading all at once at the mention of telling his wife anything. His gaze slips back to the wall for a moment, then back to Poole. "I remember some details of that report, Gwen. And I would offer it, but I doubt we will have time before Doctor Monroe arrives. I will attempt to slip the details into the dinner conversation. Two pieces of crucial information: he is a religious man, and this is his temple. Act accordingly."

And if on cue the door opens from the other side where an electrifying voice responds, "Some say all flesh is a dream Commander Poole, and if so then your dream as is regards your friends is a healthy one." He enters, his hair artful and strangely perfect as it halo's his lean but well formed face, his high collared black button up coat sweeps at from his waist ending with a wide tail of cloth behind the back of knees. His pants are a soft gray, pleated, and end with smooth lines at his moccasins. "Welcome to Gabriel, the Cathedral of the Frater Mechanus. I wish our first meeting could have been in less terrifying circumstances for all involved, but as you are all healthy and so are we, what is broken can be fixed. I am the Right Reverend Doctor Ichabod Monroe, please, sit down and we'll break bread, and get to know each other."

. o O Javits thinks "Bloody smeggin hell, we're in the clutches of a right wing religious fanatic. Nice knowing you all."

When the Lt. Commander takes her seat so does Donavon who returns to a quiet contemplation. Eyes shift once again around the dining room. Mental notations are observed especially when counting the silverware…just in case. The Reverand's entrance is marked coolly, but she does refrain from speaking out, adhering to Havaris' earlier comment - act accordingly to a man of the cloth - that is if you don't have anything good to say, don't speak.

Javits swivels his head in an almost mechanical manner to regard the doctor, then turns back to resume his wall melting attempts. The only noticeable change in his expression is a slight and brief widening of the eyes and raising of temporarily nonexistent eyebrows.

Monroe pulls his chair out and sweeps his top back a bit as he sits down and begins unfolding his napkin. "I must tell you, when your vessel flew right into the Cathedral Horn range while we were in the middle of an emission test we were quite concerned -- at first the traffic analysts projected you were going to be flying on toward the Triangle, likely on another mission to discourage Nausicaan misbehavior -- when you suddenly dropped to impulse and flew right into the middle of the resonance array... well we tried to abort the test but the capaciters were already charged and preparing to fire, we couldn't stop it." He frowns with some shame, "I'm sorry our communications staff were arguing whether they should be sending you a message on civilian channels or use the Federation Starfleet channels which are illegal for us to use but you wouldn't route as a tertiary program, likewise they were worried about just sending a distress call as that would have been false and we are very worried around here about making sure we keep on the happy side of Federation Law." He smiles, and when he does it's like a physical thing the man has presence, his voice and mannerisms hypnotic without deliberate intent. "Fortunately, no one died, and we were able to transport you entire crew of twenty to the care of our physicians and pull you vessel alongside our station to keep it from drifting into anything or over the neutral zone." He considers, "Are any of you vegetarians?"

"Good evening, Reverend," Poole manages, digging around for her good manners amongst all the turmoil inside. "Will we be saying grace?" she asks softly, answering him in the same breath, "I am not a vegetarian... sir, while I am very grateful for what you've done for us, I must inform you that we are in some danger here. How long has it been since the Thomas Paine was damaged?"

Va'tol looks up to regard the doctor, and much like the others says nothing in return to his greet, or even during the explanation, leaving that to his superior officers - until he pops the last question. "I am.", he says simply.

Javits slowly swivels his head in an almost machinelike fashion to regard the man, then responds in a tone of voice that perfectly matches his present demeanour, whilst making his best attempt to stare a hole between the doctor's eyes, "Javits, Nicolas A., United Federation of Planets, Starfleet, Lieutenant Junior Grade, serial number four one nine dash two three four three dash one zero four eight two." He bores his gaze into the doctor's forehead a second or two more before returning it to the wall, his expression remaining constant throughout the exchange.

"I eat meat," Havaris notes across the table in a manner that flies if not wholly in the face of the Doctor's charm, then acts as its direct antithesis, "and there has been a problem rather more profound than the simple damage of a Starfleet vessel and the injury of its crew." Havaris offers nothing more than that, however. Attempting to direct the conversation in line with Poole's statements. Havaris' foot jerks under the table, whacking the side of Javits' leg in a manner he no doubt considers subtle. Cue innocent smile back towards the Doctor.

Nilee has remained silent, simply observing Doctor Monroe and listening as he speaks. During the pause, he decides to speak up, glancing to his side briefly, he opens his mouth but pauses as Poole speaks, waiting for her to finish and then Va'tol to voice his answer, "Doctor Monroe, Ensign Galen Nilee. Perhaps once we get into the meal, would you mind explaining what this Cathedral Horn is? I must say that I haven't seen any of your published work in the sector science bulletins."

With her superior officers handling the situation it is up to Donavon to maintain at least some civility by not opening her mouth. What may slip out is not the time or place. She listens, observes, and duly notes responses before nudging Javits lightly.

. o O Donavon thinks "So they /are/ conducting something illegal if they feared us contacting the Federation."

Javits gives a noticeable jump from the round of kicks and nudges, but manages not to break his demeanor, though he does turn, still with the same machinelike fashion, to offer the doctor a painted on smile, "I eat meat as well."

Monroe says, "Well I will be, but that isn't a requirement for the rest of you Commander, we are of course tolerant of the right of others to their religion of choice just as we expect the same for our own. Your accident was a little over four hours ago, Commander. I'd be curious to hear about the danger you are speak --" The Reverend looks toward Javits, having noted the Vulcan's response with a slight bob of his head while he himself spoke and then he observes to Poole. "Why is Lieutenant Javit's reciting his nam-- oh. Oh!" There is a hearty laugh, "Wait, you think you are a /prisoner/? My goodness, you really do seem to be suffering from quite a misimpression of who we are young man." Still chuckling he glances at Havaris' assertion and stops as he considers the later part of said assertation not relating to the consumption of meat. "A problem more profound? I am at a loss to ..." He glances toward Nilee, "I being a minister, and this being our Cathedral, Ensign Nilee, we don't typically send out bulletins to the local science community, and oddly enough, they don't include us on their routine update list either." The Doctor's eyes flick back and forth for a moment and then several smiling and bright eyed people of various races come in with the meal on platters and serving trays, setting them on the table and asking politely what preferences might be had by each person as they revolve in a circuit around the table.

. o O Javits thinks "Yes, I eat meat, starting with Lieutenant Havaris' foot. Not a prisoner, my cotton clad arse."

"Quite possibly, Reverend, there are hostile ships closing in on this system. Romulans. Just before we were disabled, I had received an ETA of five hours. That would mean we have minimal time to prepare, should we be attacked." Poole cuts directly to the heart of the matter. "Three Romulan ships, sir. Does this station have the capability of defending against that kind of firepower?"

"Then with all due respect, Reverend, I would like my uniform and equipment returned to me, along with the medication you have taken from me. I was told by my doctor that you would be able to provide me with these items." Havaris keeps his hands politely folded before shifting his gaze about the table and adding further, "They were five hours out over four hours ago. Assuming they choose to cross the border...?" With that dangling, he orders up his last meal. Ha. "Hasperat, glass of springwine, tuwali and tea for dessert." Gotta love hosts with manners.

Javits' sour demeanour noticeably falters at the mention of the approaching hostiles, giving way to a more concerned expression. He does manage to communicate his meal preferences to one of the servers, though he seems somewhat turned off by their bright and shiny attitude.

"Oh no, certainly not Commander. We have the sort of defense systems you can buy to dissuade a pirate or a raider, or a professional Nausicaan military vessel -- but nothing that would be of any value against a Romulan attack -- our shields are quite solid but offensively we are... well, legally armed civilians. But I'm confused, are the Romulans not our allies now? And if so, why would they be coming here to attack us? Or are they after you?" Monroe asks with clear intelligence and concern.

Monroe looks toward Havaris then, "Certainly I can accomodate your weapon being returned and the rest of your equipment though we do ask that you refrain from any scanning with your tricorders without permission in accordance with our rights of privacy under the constitution. And if you could please minimalize your use of communicators, stray subspace uses could endanger the results of some of our research, of course emergency communications are emergencies. Lives come before data, you can always start a test anew a life lost not so easy to fix." He flicks his eyes back and forth a moment then looks back toward Poole, still a concerned expression.

Nilee remains silent, his question having gone unanswered in the end, he decides not to press the issue, letting the senior officers deal with the Doctor for the moment. He glances up as one of the servers approaches him, and orders a rather light meal with water. Nothing exciting, he's had enough of that for one day, and he knows he's going to get more.

Va'tol doesn't take any of the dishes, shaking his head in a polite refusal. He can't eyeing the locals, finding their appearance and behavior somewhat peculiar. Nothing is mentioned, and the Vulcan goes back to his frozen state.

Tomato soup is requested. Light but enough to satisfy an appetite for Donavon doesn't wish to fall asleep after a hardy meal. Time is of the essence if the Romulans are on their way. Her lips quirk upwards at Havaris' approach in gaining other answers about their confiscated Federation items.

"Just some bread and butter and a glass of water, thanks..." Poole tells the server, looking to Doctor Monroe. "They... and we, were searching for a ship called the Cyberiad. My guess is that they /will/ cross the Neutral Zone. Allies or no, they are not to be trusted."

Javits shakes his head, as if clearing the cobwebs away, then falls to eating, tentatively sampling the chicken walnut sandwich he requested and, surprisingly for him, received. His surly demeanour is, for the moment, forgotten in the presence of food and a problem to solve, though is still shoot an occasional suspicious glance in the direction of the far too shiny happy people.

Havaris nods his head slightly in response to Monroe, "At once, please. I am on duty and required to appear so, as are my crew. If the Romulans do come and attack and we're out of uniform at the time, we can actually be retained as spies. I would, if it's all the same, prefer to die a Starfleet man." Havaris taps his thumbs together at that, giving a glance to Poole before adding, "That goes for the rest of our crew. We require the return of our equipment and uniforms." Moving on. "The problem, Reverend, is that your communications signals have been carrying rather far, indeed. Into Romulan space, deep into Federation space. The fact that it so closely resembles a Borg transmission code is cause for alarm to us, to the Romulans, and to most people in general. While they are our allies, they do not take kindly to disturbances in or around their space. A communications array that succeeded in disabling our vessel and nearly killing the lot of us? That safely qualifies somewhere between Major Disturbance and Seek And Destroy."

. o O Javits thinks "What the heck is with these people and their unnerving expressions?"

"Oh? The Cyberiad is docked alongside this facility, we used it while this Cathedral was being constructed and for some initial field tests for the Horn project. Though I am curious why you at Starfleet would be looking for our vessel, I am a bit more concerned about what you are saying regarding the Romulans. Can you not just tell them to not cross the border? You are Starfleet after all, that is what you do isn't it? I have many friends who are in Starfleet or were, I have great respect for it and it's functions, even though I do hope that eventually such things will be unnecessary, along with borders and weapons." He considers, "Commander, there are a little over five thousand people living in Gabriel alone, not to mention the crew on the Cyberiad and your own crew of 20. Surely the Romulans would not just cross the border and kill all of us... aren't there easier ways to spark a war if that is what they want?" This all before Havaris spoke in more detail though. "Oh, I see. But... we weren't doing anything /illegal/. Private research, privately funded and in service of our religious beliefs -- all of this protected under Federation law. We are all Federation Citizens -- as to disturbing them, if we did it was inadvertant, but it's not like we tried to oh.... invade Vulcan or something. I mean, Starfleet /will/ be protecting us from a Romulan attack won't you?" Unbidden a handsome looking Trill enters with a small metal crate that has neatly stacked Starfleet equipment. "I'm sorry about the uniforms, they were a wash and we reclamated them. We don't have the patterns for your uniforms, obviously, but perhaps on your vessel you could replace those? I've had technicians making what repairs we could... much of the damage was superficial though I do fear your sensors are... hmmmm... in dire need of a major replacement, though you can certainly call your fellows from our Administration deck, unless the Romulans are planning on jamming us all."

. o O Donavon thinks "The Reverand can stand against the Havaris-Poole combination. We'll get out equipment yet."

. o O Donavon thinks "Edit..can't"

"We can /try/ to do our jobs. But without sensors we will have a rough time of it. The Romulans, if they are coming here to destroy what they have determined to be a threat, will not be caught. They will come in under cloak and kill everyone without one /moment/ of hesitation. I want my people back on the Thomas Paine as soon as possible, sir. We will do what we can to defend you... in addition to calling for reinforcements. Also, whatever you did that disabled the Paine... can you make that happen whenver or wherever you wish? If we could disable the Romulan aggressors, we could end this without bloodshed." Poole says all that in the space of a few breaths. See, she's in tactical strategist mode. And also, she doesn't feel like dying today.

Javits turns to address the doctor , though not before politely swallowing hard and washing down that bite of his sandwich with a gulp of his tea, "With the return of my equipment, I could attend to repairs, with the rest of the crew, of course." He states this in a neutral enough manner, though it's rather obvious he dislikes the idea of civilians, especially these civilians, so much as touching the Paine. After all, they broke her.

Havaris rises from his seat and moves to the equipment box, giving the Trill a thankful -- if slightly unbecoming -- smile as he reaches for his equipment belt and buckles it into place. His phaser is checked for charge, his tricorder plucked out and opened to verify its serviceability -- no scans taken -- then replaced. The PADD is plucked up, checked, and replaced. Then his compin is claimed, his pips as well. Both are smacked onto his civilian attire. Good enough for now. Poole's sidearm is tossed her way, followed a piece at a time of her equipment and so on down the line. "You have a charmingly naive understanding of quadrant diplomacy, Reverend," Havaris notes with no seeming insult, "of course we will tell them not to cross. Just as they will tell you to cease your experiments. Just as I wish to request a cessation of them in the interim and a withdrawal of your facility from the area for the time being if such is possible-- just what /are/ you doing sending out enhanced signals on Borg frequencies?" Once the equipment is doled out, Havaris moves back to his seat.

To the tray, Donavon counts each piece of equipment mentally to ensure that everything was indeed returned. Priorities are set despite the nagging want to contact the Federation first, but the approach of three Romulan starships carries more weight. Eyes swivel across Havaris' and Poole's face, completely trusting in the judgment of her superiors, then she gazes over at Javits. "With our combined efforts we should be able to locate the cloaked ships." That is teamwork worked before during her last mission with Medes in command. She catches her equipment, sticking her pip and compin at the appropriate locations. The phaser though is rechecked out of habit.

Nilee speaks up finally, after a long silence, he's been listening intently, but hasn't needed to speak. "Would it be possible to route your station's sensors to the Paine, Doctor Monroe? We're not going to be able to do much if we're blind, and if our sensors are in the shape you say they are... we're going to need to find an alternative."

Javits accepts the return of his equipment with obvious relief, following Havaris' example in proper placement and verification of serviceability.

Va'tol stands from his chair, reaching for his gear. He places the compin on his chest, slipping the Tricorder and PADD down one of his pockets.

The Reverend rises from his seat, graciously saying even though it's already quite clear as the officers go right for their gear, "I would say that dinner is obviously over, and I apologize that you were not able to enjoy our full hospitality to make up for your unfortunate accident." He considers the various questions thrown at him. "Of course you can return to your vessel, of course we will help you as we can but I cannot in all reality assure you that your vessel is even functional enough as far as communications and sensors go to use us as your eyes." He looks to Poole specifically, "We could try to deliberately incapacitate them if they entered the area of the Horn project's resonance area, but... it would be illegal for us to take a hostile action against a Star Power the Federation has a treaty with, let alone an alliance with. If you have that sort of authority and the moral will to initiate such hostilities, we will help you as we can, but I must tell you, I am afraid of being the cause of a war with the Romulans, we are against war in our philosophy and religious tenants Commander, but we are not adverse to minimal force to defend our own lives either."

Monroe's eyes flitter back a forth for a moment and he says, "I am needed on the administrative level, apparently our sensors have detected something out of place, perhaps your Romulans. The Soldalte will take you to your vessel, if you will excuse me?"

Javits gives the reverend a curious look as he takes a last bite from his sandwich, along with a parting sip from his glass in the midst of standing and securing his gear. As he slides his chair back under the table, he looks to Havaris with a questioning expression, cutting his eyes in the reverend's direction.

. o O Javits thinks "He purposefully avoided your question, Lieutenant."

"I just said no bloodshed, Reverand... I'd prefer to capture the Romulans in the act, actually. To prosecute them." Poole catches her equipment as it's thrown her way, putting on each piece. Her phaser she saves for last, checking it's charge. "Good luck, Doctor... we must return to the Thomas Paine at once. We will do what we can." She stands and looks to her officers, "Ready yourselves. In less than two minutes I want to be aboard the Thomas Paine and at our stations on the bridge. Move. Now."

Havaris glances aside at Poole as his questions go once more unanswered, then back to Monroe. Javits' glance is met with a momentary sideways flicker before Havaris asks a question more pointedly. "This facility, Reverend. Is it here on a Federation colonial charter or is this a fully privatized institution?"

Nilee nods to the Doctor as he stands to retrieve his gear finally, having allowed all the others to crowd the small bin containing their things first. Placing his compin on his chest and the PADD and Tricorder in his pockets.

. o O Donavon thinks "Let's lock and load people. We have Romulans to stop and I have a panic crazed Robert to settle once this is over."

Donavon is all business once rising from her seat and setting about to head for the Thomas Paine. Phaser in hand and PADD stuff at her waist, she's ready for what's next. Eyes rivet to the rest of the crew as if silently or mentally sending messages that time is a wasting. Now it is one minute and thirty seconds left to complete Poole's order as the security officer patiently waits for her superiors to take the lead.

Monroe, on the way toward the door pauses to answer the Operation's Officer's question, "Gabriel is Cathedral, Lieutenant. Later when there is more time, you can find that the Frater Mechanus is a duly registered and recognized religion in the Federation; all of our commercial assets are handled by a legally incorporated for profit corporation; while this facility and our other smaller chapels are covered under our non-profit charter. We have several private sector research grants funding research conducted here, but the community itself is a privately funded colony, Would you be needing copies of all of that? I can certainly send those or the file numbers for you to look up via the Federation database if you like. Ah, but you need to get to your ship and I need to get to my office, we can discuss this further later if you like." With that he departs out the door he came in from, while several of the "Soldalte" stand ready to lead Poole and crew back to the Thomas Paine.

Va'tol moves to stand next to his crew. His equipment is back, but the lack of Phasers in his reach do make the Ensign uneasy. This is still unknown ground, afterall, despite the doctor's kind words. Keeping his thoughts to himself the Vulcan will follow, as silent as when he entered, hands clasped behind his back in a constant formal stance..

Havaris stares at Monroe rather cooly throughout the at-length reply to the rather plainspoken and simple question posed. Havaris straightens up slowly and blinks only once. "Rather well spoken when you want to be, Reverend." Yes, I know you were avoiding my questions. Havaris spends a moment wiping the corner of his mouth with a thumb before glancing to Poole and turning for the doors to begin the trip back to the Thomas Paine. Kusto's got the itch. You can take the Bajoran out of Security...

Nilee satisfied that his equipment is still in good shape, particularly his tricorder, he looks towards Poole, "Commander, if we intend on confronting the Romulans... assuming that's who it is, I'd like to try and route Gabriel's sensors to the Paine so that we can see..."

"Prophets willing... we will have that conversation, Reverend," Poole says softly, trying to give the man a reassuring look. When he's gone, she grips her phaser tightly and moves to stand next to their 'guide.' When Nilee comes up to her, she waves him off, "On the bridge. /Now./ We make our stand there. All of you. Now."

Javits exits alongside Havaris, in the process of making another thorough check of his gear. His expression has again taken on a decided frown, though it's more studious and concerned than sour.

. o O Javits thinks "Better aboard our own ship than in this twisted place. Mental note, run a thorough check of all systems once we're back at the station, and keep the Paine isolated until that check is complete. Lack of sensors and restricted use of equipment is just too obvious, like your flat lack of answers, Reverend."

The Starfleet crew, their orders laid out with no room for doubt by Poole, exit the dining room and the doors close behind them. The table is a mixture of precise layout and the chaos of a the abrupt departure. The lights turn off automatically and the room is then plunged into darkness.

Not much later...

On the bridge of the Thomas Paine the after effects of the disasterous run in with the mysterious Horn Project Test of the Gabriel Facility is still apparent; though it is also clear that the Frater Mechanus technicians have been aboard with some important apparent details -- They were able to take the Computer Auto-Security functions offline. -- They already replaced the key bridge stations with stores available on the Paine and they did so with a speed and technical acumen inconsistant with a bunch of civilian clerics.

The crew arrive back on the bridge and immediately notice these pertinent facts, though none of the civilians are still aboard, apparently recalled when the Right Reverend was asked to come to his administrative section.

Javits finally retakes his seat at the engineering station with visible relief, returning to his usual tapping away at the console with a decided frown as he peers at the station's display, "They certainly know their way around a ship, too well." He mutters as he taps, leaning in close to the display for an extra careful look, "Far too well for my tastes, especially with a ship such as this one."

Nilee steps onto the bridge along with the rest of the bridge crew at a swift pace. Moving away from the turbolift as soon as he is able to, without getting in anyone else's way, he moves to the science station and immediately begins running diagnostics on the sensors systems... or trying to, assuming the sensor diagnostic systems are still working. All without a word.

"Benevolent disabling of Starfleet Security Overrides. I am certain the judge will show clemency." Havaris seems to be building himself a case docket before he's even acquired any real evidence. But that's Havaris for you. Glancing over the spackled ruin that is the Paine's bridge -- minus the more overt signs of ruin -- he plucks out his PADD and checks the interface. Once he's satisfied he starts poking, glancing aside at Poole in the manner of a man with a Plan with a capitol P that rhymes with T that... wait. "I am going to finish that decryption now, Sir. I'm useless for repairs. I'll need some time with the compute core. I think I've almost got enough to shut them down for the short term, at least."

Va'tol comes to halt in his track to Helm, scanning the Bridge quickly and nodding to himself. "Impressive." He draws close to his station, taking his seat and lying his hands on the pad, making sure to run a few standard diagnostic tests first, focused mainly on the console's general status, and a search for any 'additions' the civilian engineers might've made. You can never be too careful, afterall.

<CONTEST> Nilee contests his Systems Engineering (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Dramatically Succeeds!

"It's a Brilliant Class... not a Defiant or a Sovereign. It's not as if we have anything of import on her. As long as she runs, I don't give one blessed damn what they did, or how they did it. We've nothing to hide here." Poole eyes Havaris in the meantime. "You're already building a case against Gabriel Station then? That's all well and good, but I'd rather you try and get some sort of contact going with 419." She finds her way back to the command seat, checking the miniconsole there.

<CONTEST> Javits contests his Systems Engineering (Engineering) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Poole contests her Systems Engineering (Command) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Fails!

<CONTEST> Havaris contests his Systems Engineering (Communications) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

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

Javits shakes his head as he continues to work, "My station checks out okay." He glances back towards Poole, "While this ship is a somewhat experimental design, as you say, we've nothing to hide." A look is directed to Havaris, "But what about them? Did you notice the number of our hosts who had implants of some sort, mostly eyes, but I could have sworn I saw a few with input jacks implanted right about here." He touches a finger on his free hand to the rear base of his skull. "Implants and Borg signals, are we getting a theme here?"

. o O Javits thinks "No, ignore it and go on. We have a mission. Smeg it, this is just too weird to ignore."

Nilee taps at his console, pulling up the diagnostic report with remarkable speed, "Commander, our lateral sensors are completely out, but I can get us navigational sensors at fifty percent efficiency and aft long range sensors along their 90 degree arc. It's going to take atleast two days under a full engineering crew to get anything beyond that though." He glances towards Javits, "Well, they did call themselves the Mechanical Brothers, atleast I think that's an accurate translation."

Va'tol casts a glance over his shoulder. "Nominal status on Impulse, Warp and manuevering thrusters..The navigation sensors, on the other hand, are only operating at 50 percent capacity, Sir.", he reports.

<CONTEST> Poole contests her Systems Engineering (Computer) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

Havaris nods at Poole with a slight frown and makes for his terminal, standing next to his swapped chair -- sans Havaris butt crease -- and taps at his terminal absently to start the diagnostic. He returns to poking at his PADD while it cycles and upon receiving the results, glances back at his terminal again. "My terminal is operational, but our subspace communications relay is fused. We'll need to replace it, and we lack a replacement or secondary communications array. We're running silent, Sir." Havaris is hardly bothered as he resumes poking at his PADD then at his terminal. "Finishing the decrypt, Sir, forwarding to my PADD. I'd like to speak with you in the ready room once it's done cycling. Mister Javits, if you can see a way around our communications blackout, act on it. If not, let it lie."

Javits mulls that over as he continues to tap away, "Frater Mechanus - Mechanical Brothers, sounds about right. Let me see if I can do any better on the sensors from my end." With this, he launches into another frenzy of rapid tapping and display scrutiny.

<CONTEST> Javits contests his Systems Engineering (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

"Good enough," calls Poole from her seat. "Keep the damage control teams working." Which is to say keep everyone but the bridge crew feverishly working on getting the Paine more functional. "Begin scanning for those possible Romulans. Status on shields and weapons?"

Nilee nods his head, "I'm going to need to get us turned around to face the neutral zone, Commander. Our aft sensors are the only ones that are working."

From the direction of Donavon's station is coming a series of tap tap tap BEEP BEEP BEEP tap tap tap BEEP BEEP BEEP punctuated by quiet growls of frustration. "Working on it, sir."

Javits nods in a absent minded manner more along the lines of his usual demeanour, lost amid the workings of the station or one of its attendant ships, "It'll be a long week of repairs once we return home. The hardware is fried. Software is another, thankfully more optimistic matter. Checking shields and weapons status now, sir."

<CONTEST> Fortunae contests Donavon's Systems Engineering (Tactical) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Fails!

<CONTEST> Javits contests his Systems Engineering (Shields) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

Havaris glances up from his terminal with a frown, "I lose my signal buffer." His eyes scan the bridge, spotting an NCO busily tending to cleaning. In short, ancillary tasking. "Chief, head down to the core. I need you to find the iso chip containing the buffer data from the subspace relay prior to our little incident with the Gabriel. Have that data transferred encrypted to my terminal and to my PADD. I need that ASAP." Havaris then looks to Poole and resumes poking at his PADD intently.

<CONTEST> Javits contests his Systems Engineering (Weapons) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

The Chief nods and hurries for the turbolift, in a moment he's gone.

Va'tol starts doing a few minor checks on his own, taking the liberty to survey the transporter systems.

<CONTEST> Havaris contests his Computer (Research) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

GAME: Havaris spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Va'tol contests his Systems Engineering (Transporter) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Havaris (claiming advantage) contests his Law (Federation Law) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

GAME: Havaris spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Havaris (claiming advantage) contests his Social Sciences (Economics) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Havaris contests his Politics (Federation) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Fails!

<CONTEST> Havaris contests his Administration (Bureacracy) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Havaris (claiming advantage) contests his Law (Federation Law) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Havaris (claiming advantage) contests his Law (Federation Law) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Javits takes a precious split second to cast a curious glance in the hurrying Chief's direction, then one to Havaris, "Too late now to hide what we might have wanted to conceal. They may now know exactly how much we know. Can we assume they'll restrain themselves from preventing us from returning to make our reports?" He turns back to his console with a shake of his head, "Commander, I recommend we run a thorough security check of the entire ship once we return to the station, and keep her isolated until it is made absolutely certain this ship is clean. It may be in our best interests to consider the Paine's security compromised until then." After a second's scrutiny of his station's display, he reports with a rather businesslike tone, "Phasers are at full operational capacity, however their targeting system is down to forty percent efficiency due to external sensor damage. Shields are functional at sixty-two percent due to damage to the emitter grids."

<CONTEST> Javits contests his Systems Engineering (Environmental) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

"Sir, nominal status on transporter systems as well, although in our current situation with the sensors I highly suggest we do not use it to transporter, specially to bring anyone aboard.", notes the Vulcan, leaning back against his seat until further orders are given.

"Sir, nominal status on transporter systems as well, although in our current situation with the sensors I highly suggest we restrain ourselves from using it..specially to bring someone aboard, if the case arises.." notes the Vulcan, leaning back against his chair, waiting for further orders.

Poole stands from the command chair and comes to stand over Havaris, leaning in to see his work. Nodding once, she looks over her shoulder to Nilee, "Bring us about, 180 degrees. Slow and easy...." To Va'tol, "We won't be bringing anyone aboard. Do we have any probes aboard that we could send out and rig some sort of communications through?"

Havaris seems rather rapt in the work he's doing on his PADD, thoughts of their imminent plight somewhat secondary to what he seems to see as its peaceful resolution. He glances up from his PADD as Poole approaches, giving her his sneakiest and second-most-secretive smile. A boy getting away with something, is Havaris, a fox ten yards from the treeline with a trail of feathers left behind him, henhouse in turmoil.

Javits seems to be absorbed in his work once more, tapping away with his face close to the display, lest he miss some important bit of data, "Environmental systems operating at full efficiency, sir." A pause, more tapping, "Sir, if we have an undamaged class six probe aboard, that would be the best option."

Nilee nods to Poole as he turns back to his station and prepares to start scanning once the ship finishes its turn.

"..Considering the state of our communications array, the message would have to be loaded in the probe before lauching..", the Vulcan adds to Poole.

. o O Javits thinks "Shiny happy implants, borg signals. No, have to work right now. Discuss it later."

. o O Havaris singsongs in his head. o/~ I always wi-in. o/~

"Easily done," Poole answers Va'tol, though she leans in to give Havaris a private smile. "... I know you're working on the case again... once a security officer always a security officer. ... here's one more bit of food for thought. This 'Horn'? It would make an excellent defensive system if we could get our hands on some of the schematics." That's Gwen, always thinking of how better to kick her enemies in the balls. "We'll meet in the ready room in a few minutes... let me record a message for the Station, first." She wanders back to her own seat and begins working out a message to send off on the probe.

"On the contrary, Sir," Havaris counters with a grin, "I am resolving a difficult diplomatic and legal quandary through expedient and innovative use of previous experience and present resources. I deserve a commendation." Havaris offers Poole his best cute-button smile before bouncing on his feet and continuing his research into how best to break down this little station rivet by rivet for use as evidence. In short, building the case. Yes. "Hold off on that message until I get this compiled, I'll want it in the sitrep."

Javits breaks off from tapping long enough to cast a sidelong look in Havaris and Poole's direction, then resumes his duties after the passing of no more than a second or two. he continues on for about thirty more seconds before voicing another recommendation, "Sir, in addition to a thorough check of the ship's systems, may I suggest a thorough check of her crew as well, given the 'Mechanical Brothers' apparent liking for implants."

. o O Javits thinks "One can never be too sure, given what we've encountered so far."

Nilee runs his fingers over the controls as the vessel swings around to have the aft face the neutral zone, "The scans are underway commander, it's going to take some time, however."

"Aye, aye... you can be in charge of that, if you're so eager, Mr. Javits," Poole says, recording that message for Starfleet ahead of time. When she's finished, she looks up and adds, "Given that I wasn't injured... I am curious why I woke up in their infirmary naked. I think once we get back on station, we should /all/ get thorough scans."

. o O Javits thinks "Well, it's good to hear some support in light of the situation."

. o O Javits thinks "*screech of mental brakes* Wait, did she say naked!?!"

Havaris winds up frowning once he's done staring at the information on his PADD and actually takes a seat on his terminal's chair to stare at the data. "Pagh-wraiths and false-prophets," he murmurs to nobody in particular, "Gwen. We have a problem." Havaris glances up to Poole, then back to his PADD. He sets her terminal for auto-forward, taps his PADD, and hops to his feet, moving for the doors to the ready room.

Javits gives Poole a positively odd look, as if his mental brakes were just applied with extreme force.

Poole sighs and stands from her seat, stretching her legs before she walks on into the ready room. "Keep the repairs up. I want status reports ready when we come back out." Then she follows Kusto into the ready room, throwing herself into a seat there.

Javits shakes his head, blinking a few times before returning to his duties. The best he can manage is somewhat distant, "Aye, sir."

Havaris paces into the ready room and flips his PADD across the table as he falls into his seat with a frown. "These people are in deep, Gwen. Deep. There's names on this paperwork reaching out like a prodigy of Tyler's. Six front companies, all tech oriented, all legal. Chairpersons all on the up and up, not a speck of impropriety. Naonetech, biomechanics, implants, exotech reverse engineering, beta quadrant research. 22 separate grants for research, all Federation based grants. Bionics, microtech, cybernetics, implant lenses, cybernetic spinal column refits. Federation Charities, private donations, government grants. It's a fully recognized church with all legal protections. This is a legally recognized holy site. A religious colony, and autonomous in its legal authority. They police their own. Now. They are up for a colonial viability assessment and are subject to Starfleet Oversight. But. Remember those names I mentioned? Well they're not going through /our/ Colonial Affairs department. And the ship answering is the USS Koch of the 7th Fleet, not the USS Merimac of the Dulcais Fleet, the Excelsior that's been handling colonial matters in the area since the war ended. These people are rich, too. They have more money and resources than most megacorporations, and that money flows freely within the Federation and to and from the Ferengi Alliance. And this is just the legal data, no telling what's happening behind the books. They have lobbyists in the secretariat, if not the council itself. If we act in closing this place down, there's no telling how long it would take for the case to be dismissed, and no guarantees that we'll have careers afterwards."

"So. That's a bust, isn't it?" Poole looks fairly unconcerned, relaxing in the chair she threw herself into. "And if they police their own, then they can defend themselves from the Romulans... which means we can leave for 419 right now, with our mission objectives /mostly/ complete. The exception being the Cyberiad itself. We should, at least, inform them of the legal ramifications of what the crew of that ship perpetrated on Bolarus. Outside of that? If these people are so high and mighty? They can protect their bloody selves."

Javits glances back as the two senior officers disappear into the ready room, "Wonder what all that was about." Turning towards Nilee and Va'tol, he gives the two a rather concerned look, "That bunch says they were testing that 'Horn' of theirs. What if what they did was a deliberate accident, one meant to prevent us from being able to investigate their ship, much less discover anything aboard their station?"

<PROVE> Nilee has the merit of Scientific Genius at 3.

<PROVE> Poole has the merit of Sexy at 2.

<CONTEST> Nilee (claiming advantage) contests his Physical Sciences (Physics) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

"Don't fall into that trap, Gwen. They're a Colony world, and we are a Starfleet Vessel. If we believe there's a risk of the Romulans coming into our space and wiping a colony of five thousand off of the sector map, we have an obligation both moral and professional to intercept, intercede -- and if needs be -- interdict on that conflict." Havaris shifts a bit in his seat and glances up at the deadened viewscreen of their otherwise functional ready room. "Look. I have them on destruction of Starfleet Property, criminal negligence, violation of security protocols, and have a political case in shutting them down in bringing a threat of war to the Federation, but that's all thready until the Romulans arrive." Havaris shakes his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "This Horn is one giant subspace relay, sounding a clarion straight into Romulan Space. On a Borg Frequency. If it weren't utterly asanine, I'd say they're calling a cube. My question is: is this Monroe's overzealous means to ending a war and preventing another Wolf 359? Or is this Starfleet weapons development? I don't know, and frankly? Looking through the lens at Admiral Sinclaire, I'm afraid to ask. This is rotten to the Pagh, all of it. It's your call, Captain, but I'm all for calling no joy on the whole outfit and ordering them to cease and desist on the grounds of criminal negligence. Once Chief Cortez returns with my iso-chip, I'll have a better advisement for you than that. I hope."

<CONTEST> Nilee (claiming advantage) contests his Space Sciences (Subspace Field Dynamics) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

<PROVE> Havaris has the flaw of Mental Disorder at -3.

"If that is the case, I have my doubts any evidence will be found in a future search, or else they would have cloaked their presence and kept the Starfleet as far as possible.", the vulcan says. "Of course, that is just an assumption. I would have to know more details before making my final assessment of the situation."

"Don't try and wave that morality card in my face, Kusto. We couldn't defend these people against three romulan ships if we wanted to. Not in the shape we're in. And I'm under obligation not to get you, the ship and the rest of the crew destroyed. Let's see what the iso chip contains. Then we'll either pack up and head home, or we'll stick around, call them on -some- of these charges, and investigate that ship of theirs." Poole leans back in the seat, resting her back some.

"I'm not waving anything at you, Gwen. I am reminding you of your oaths, and the fact that my ability to follow your orders ends the moment you order me away from the slaughter of five-thousand." Havaris drums his fingers evenly on the edge of the table. "Your obligation is to order me to die if that's what it takes. You have the luxury of saving me when and only when you save them first. Like it, loathe it, but do it."

"I'm under no such obligation, if by destroying this ship we save no lives," counters Poole. "Now quit with the bloody lecture and go find out what's taking so long with that chip. I'd like to find out if we get to go home, or if you and I have to pull some miracle battle off."

. o O Havaris thinks "Just how far have you fallen from grace, Gwen? And when will you hit bottom?"

Havaris smiles thinly across the table at his Captain before inclining his head and rising from his chair, "Aye, Sir." He turns from the table and begins his retreat from the ready room.

Nilee has remained silent for a long time, working busily at his console, he curses under his breath quietly, "I can't get any information on that Horn weapon, or whatever it is out of our logs," he shakes his head slowly and the stops mid-shake. Without wasting another second, he taps his intercom controls to the readyroom, "Commander, Lieutenant, I suggest you get out here. Now."

Poole stands not too long after Havaris and walks back onto the bridge, perking an eyebrow at Nilee. "Report."

Havaris' PADD takes that dramatic moment to chime.

Javits' frown deepens at Nilee's actions and the two senior officer's abrupt return as he resumes his duties, monitoring the ship's status.

Nilee glances towards Poole as she emerges from the ready room behind Havaris, "I've got a Deresus-class Romulan Heavy scount uncloaking and coming in, right for us. They've got a passenger capacity of 150... possible boarding raid."

Va'tol turns to look at his screen once more, his eyes widening at the sight. He doesn't wait a second, tapping at his console. "Should I start evasive proceedures, sir?", he asks through the intercom.

"And us without a communicator... and if we try anything, but hail them, they'll know we're damaged," Poole moves to the command chair and sits, "Are their weapons armed?"

Havaris unclips his phaser from his side and moves directly to the Operations terminal, "Naturally, since we're unable to return their hails. I'll try signalling with our exterior lights. See if they're as perceptive as they are in violation of Alliance Treaty. With all due respect, Sir, even a passive scan of our hull will reveal we're damaged. We need to attempt contact before we engage in aggressive stances." Havaris takes a knee on his chair, glancing to Poole for the go-ahead.

. o O Havaris thinks "Dammit, Gwen, if you get us killed I'm going to... achieve redundancy."

"Do it. If that doesn't work, use a probe. Send off this message to starfleet as well," says Poole, settling more deeply into the chair. If they're going to go, this is where she should be. "What was on that PADD, Lieutenant?"

Javits maintains a close watch on his station, keying up various algorithms just in case the worst should happen.

On the shattered viewscreen the Romulan vessel banks and comes toward the Thomas Paine in response to the flashing running lights message sent by Lieutenant Havaris.

Javits steals a the briefest of glances back at the viewscreen, then just as quickly returns to his duties.

. o O Javits thinks "They're intelligent, right, they have common sense, right, they understand blinky navigation lights, right?"

Havaris glances down at his PADD at this point, examining the data for a long moment. His hands continue to tap out the message to the Romulans, but the rest of him has frozen. Whatever he's looking at, he refuses to believe. His gaze looks up at the cracked viewscreen and his head takes to shaking slowly in utter disbelief. "Forwarding the data to you, Sir." It's spoken somewhat dully as he slides into his chair and focusses on communicating nonverbally via keystrokes. It's the best he can manage, really.

Nilee frowns at his controls, "I can't get a lock on the Romulans to see if their weapons are online... but..." he pauses briefly verifying the data once more, "The Cathedral Horn is powering up again... I think."

Donavon says, "I can't determine their weapon status sir, our lateral sensors being down impairs my ability to get anything off of them."

Javits sits back a bit from his station, still monitoring its displays as closely as ever, just not as physically as close as usual.

. o O Javits thinks "Once more from the top."

On the Bridge of a Thomas Paine six green cylinders of moted light appear along with a high pitched whine and then before them stand six Romulan Officers, the most senior waering the baldric of a sub-cmmander. The Romulans looked peeved, but less so when they see the damage around the bridge.

Poole doesn't look too upset by what she reads. In fact, one might say she's smiling. "Orders are orders, Lieutenant. Recommendations?" Blink. Romulans? She stands, perking an eyebrow in Vulcanoid fashion. "Greetings, Subcommander."

Javits makes his best effort not to look back, though he does steal yet another of the briefest of glances behind him at the new arrivals.

"I reccomend, Sir, we entreat our allies for assistance in closing these bastards down." Havaris clips the phaser back to his belt and focusses in on his terminal, hands resting on its edges as he stares -- still -- straight ahead. "Sir."

. o O Javits thinks "Weird weapons, naked senior officers, Romulans on the bridge, what a mission this is."

"I will be brief, Commander. If the Federation wishes to summon the Borg within it's borders, that is it's foolishness -- and we will not come and help you fight them off in such a case; but the Praetor will not stand by while you deliberately summon their attention /through/ Romulan space. I have come to destroy this array and anyone who tries to stop me, you don't seem to be in the condition to stop anything... but if you would like to forget about our crossing the border without calling first we will allow you to assist us in take out this facility and securing any prisoners you think you must take to assuage your sensibilities." The Subcommanders words are translated from Romulan into Fed Standard via the crew's combadges.

. o O Havaris thinks "I hate liking Romulans whom I hate." Gears grind. "No, that's right."

"Agreed," Poole says with just a bit of relish, looking to the Subcommander again. "I'm Lt. Commander Poole, commanding officer of the Thomas Paine. I am willing to forget entirely about you not calling us first before crossing into our space... if you are willing to aide us in an operation. It seems we have a some criminals that we've been ordered to capture. If you're ready to begin... we are."

Nilee blinks a few times as Romulans materialize on the bridge, he remains silent however, watching silently, occasionally running fingers across his console, though it's rather a useless excersise... since he doesn't have hardly any sensor control."

Va'tol quirks a brow, first at the beaming Romulans, and then Poole's response. Criminals? He doesn't waste much time thinking it through, turning his attention to the Helm console.

"Sir," Havaris notes, "the entirety of the population of that station are Federation Citizens. Any attack on them will be viewed and must be viewed as an act of war and a violation of the Alliance treaty." Havaris glances over his shoulder at that. "We should hold here, ask our guests to call for reinforcement from Sector Security and the Baden Powell, run this as a Security Operation. We can disable their communications array. But anything more than that exceeds our orders."

Javits nods as he listens, whilst maintaining his duties, though he does exhale with a quietly audible sigh.

. o O Javits thinks "And so together we finally come to the most logical conclusion about these fanatics. Thank you for intelligent senior officers."

Poole pauses and looks over her shoulder at Havaris. It's a soft melty kind of look. "My executive officer is right. If you please... do as he recommends?" Her gaze swings back to the Romulan in front of her, then down to the civilian clothes she's wearing, suddenly feeling downright uncomfortable.

The Romulan touches his communication emblem, "Commence deconstruction of the array, seize the rogue vessel, send some engineers over the Starfleet vessel to assist them and commence boarding and securing operations immediately, it seems... Starfleet has a... warrent for the arrest of these people. Commander Poole, as the senior officer present of Starfleet on site I will leave my sublieutenant here to facilitate for you until your comms are back online, please have your helmsman keep out of the line of fire." He looks over at the Bajoran, "Ah, I know who you are -- why don't you come with me to make the boarding and arrest party a joint operation affair instead of waiting for reinforcements? You see... I brought my own...."

As if on cue the cracked viewscreen reveals a Meret Incursion Cruiser decloaking and angling toward the array while four Me'varen calss troop transports decloak alongside the first vessel near the Thomas Paine."

The smug superior look on the Romulan's face though fades as a wave of distortion comes whining out of his communications emblem. On the screen the larger cruiser banks at an odd angle but moments later opens fire with it's full array of ordinance at the array in an attempt to shut it off before it can finish it's signal.

"The Romulans grimaces and looks at the Starfleet crew before saying... "You see, this is what comes from Talking."