Bangagong

 Episode Name:  Bangagong

   Written By:  Fortunae

         Cast:  Albertz, Baxx, Caeli, Cristobal, Fortunae, Idrani, O'Rielly and Olog.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Fortunae

     Aired On:  Sat Aug 09 04:47:46 2003

     Stardate:  53421.6

Time: Fri Aug 08 21:27:04 2003

Stardate: 53420.9

Stardate 53420.9 -- On the view screen of the USS Flemming the image of the "Sandbox" hangs amidst flashes of pixelated static and the flares of distant plasma burning within the environment of the Sandstorm. Ltjg Olog sits at the flight control station and watches the screen with slight squinted eyes, his left hand occasionally rubbing across the top of his bald pate. His eyes flick to his console then back to the screen, then back to the console again as he announces. "Holding position, aye, sir."

The sir in this case being the andorian Jaylas Idrani who has sat in the Command Chair for most of this voyage, her first time on this vessel as it is for many of the bridge crew. This is not overly surprising really, the ship has that new "ship" smell of a recently shook-down vessel having only recently arrived in the Dulcais sector for it's detached assignment to support Strategic Operations missions from the sector and from Starfleet Command in this area. Due to the nature of it's use, many of it's positions on the crew are not filled permanantly but are drawn from the other station and vessels assigned to the sector on a case by case basis, and in this case it was S-419 that was tasked to supply senior crew officers for this operation, which include not only Lt Idrani as the Conn, but also Ltjg Caeli at tactical, the recently transferred to operations Ltjg Cristobal, medical officer Albertz on hand to lend away mission medical support should such be needed, and Social Sciences officer Baxx on hand to provice science support should this turn into a contact mission, to handle sensor operations until that should come about.

And then, the Station's Intelligence officer, likewise a farmed out asset as much as the ship is, coming along to give Starfleet Intelligence a hands on member to protect their interests and by extension those of the Federation itself. Moment before he had confirmed along with Baxx that the "breadcrumb" trail left by the Andorian security officer assigned to the Sandbox was still in place, so now it is clear that the Flemming can in fact follow the trail of those who are now missing presumed lost toward what may be an ancient relic losts for ages in the dynamically active space that is the Sandstorm...

Idrani shifts position in the Command chair, falling serious now. For this journey, Jaylas has been in a remarkably good mood and extremely impressed with the refitted Saber. She had made a couple jokes, while off duty in the officer's mess, about whose arm would require twisting in order to get this sweet little ship permanently assigned to S419. Now, however, her cool, detatched professionalism returns. "Lieutenant Baxx, have we picked up this 'breadcrumb' trail?"

"Yes, sir, Ensign Albertz spotted it a moment ago. I am transfering the headings to helm." Baxx taps a few glowing squares on the Science display, and glances towards the other bolian over at the helm to make sure it gets there as usable information. Once he's out of the spotlight, he murmurs to Albertz, "you have keen eyes to spot that fuzzy little white line." He taps the screen with his fingertip. "We can ask the computer to make it more apparent by reshifting the input -- that will probably be a necessity during warp, for instance." The science officer chuckles, wiping away the augmented image, saying, "The biggest problem with the science station is filtering through the rusar of information it rains down on you."

Cristobal chuckles lightly and offers a bit of advice, "Do what Zip does, Lieutenant. Ignore the information and look into assorted card games." He kids, but he's also keeping a close eye on the readings his own console provides.

Caeli is happily monitoring very little at the Tactical station. Happily because it's rare for the tactical officer on duty to have a seat, an error the modern, combat-oriented vessels such as the Sabre and Defiant are beginning to correct. The lack of anything on his scanners is due to the fact... that it's the Sandstorm. "Nonsense, Nathan. Solitaire is the exclusive purview of the Dispatch officer on duty." His eyes glint with amusement as he looks aside to Cristobal, at his side in the trio of front panels. "Tactical calls for Minesweeper."

Donner speaks up, "Sir, I've finished my records checks for other vessels of this refit specification. With your permission I'd like to have the secondary SIS brought online and devoted primarily to reinforcing the EPS, which seems to have an unfavorable reaction to heavy plasma impacts and could cause secondary explosions or even breech our core if we were really unlucky. I'd rather not tempt luck but I won't make the change without your authorization."

Idrani nods to Donner. "Make it so, Lieutenant." She looks over at the Helm officer. "Lieutenant Olog, lay in a course to follow parallel to the trail, continue present speed."

With the exception of a few times he's talked, like checking on what science was able to do with the trail left for them, O'Rielly has kept quiet at his station. He seems to be working on some stuff at it, though how much of it's related to what is about to happen, and how much of it is something else, would be rather hard to tell. He almost seems to be tuning out the rest of the bridge for the most part.

Albertz pays close attention to Baxx as the science officer explains some of the finer points pertaining to sensor operation. A few nods of understanding here and there but mostly the Ensign remains silent, watching everything Baxx does like a hawk.

Olog makes some quick entries on his console. "Course laid in sir." He pauses then to allow her the moment to mentally be aware of his complying then activates. "Resuming full impulse, aye." The viewscreen shows the Sandbox station tip precariously then slip from view rapidly as the Flemming boldly sets after the course of the Rio de Plata.

Baxx lets his right hand trail along the display, going absolutely nowhere. When Albertz' hawklike gaze follows it, he twirls his fingers around elaborately and grins. "Ensign, ask questions if you don't understand what I'm doing. With any luck, you'll catch one of my mistakes."

Lieutenant jg Donner directs some of her very few engineers and technicians to tackled the problem and Cristobal sees the request for a larger power draw come across his station as the engineer brings the secondary structural integrity field online and begins to tailor it's energy directions to reinforce critical areas as they apply to her concerns for the EPS system.

Olog whispers to Caeli, "This reminds me a bit of shooting a curl while surfing back home, but without the reassuring knowledge that the worst that could happen would be braining myself on the reef and drowning. You come to places like this a lot?"

O'Rielly calls out, "When we get there, our first action should be to secure the runabout, make sure everything is okay with it and find out anything we can before proceeding. It might have valuable info we can use." And yes, O'Rielly will occassionally be stating the obvious.

Cristobal taps away at the power allocation controls as soon as Donner's request becomes visible, sending the engineer the energy needed for the secondary SIF.

Caeli leans over to the other Bolian with a grin. Caeli whispers to Olog, "More often than I'd like... here you know the worst that can happen is braining the ship on... a cosmic reef, of sorts. I never was much for surfing, myself."

Several minutes tick by as the Flemming follows the trail of the Rio de Plata.

Idrani waits quietly, resisting the impulse to ask for a report every couple of minutes. She is confident that if and when sensors locate the Rio de Plata, it won't be kept a secret.

Albertz smiles a little and nods again when Baxx speaks to him, "Oh...I pretty much get the brass tackses of the whole thing. I dinnae think I'll be catching any mistakes though. Shipboard sensors aren't exactly my forte!" Nonetheless, the nurse keeps a close eye on the sensor displays while he's speaking.

O'Rielly has offered all he can for now. Not really much for him to be doing while he waits to see where the ship takes them, and how long it will take to get there, and of course the most inportant part; what will be waiting for them when they arrive.

Baxx chuckles, and points Albertz to a screen. "Just keep an eye on the trail, redshifting or blueshifting as needed. Every time one of those flares go off, it confuses things and you'll need to make adjustments again. While you do that, I'll be identifying waypoints and feeding them to the helm." The bolian then does so, taking a step to the left to his own console.

GAME: Cristobal spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Cristobal (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Communications) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<PROVE> Cristobal has the merit of Battle-hardened at 3.

Forte or not, something rather obvious on the sensors catches Albertz's eye. "Sir, sensors are detecting a rather large, as in major, energy spike" he taps the display, pointing out the information to Baxx, "right on top of us!"

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

*THHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROMMMMMMMMMMMMMMME* The entire bridge resonates and echoes in line as if a gong pounded by a massive mallet and Cristobal's station explodes even as he is desperately trying to perform some operation just before the bridge rings, he is caught even as he tries to dive to the side to get clear...

GAME: Cristobal spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Cristobal (claiming advantage) contests his Fitness (Vitality) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Alert alarms automatically begin sounding on the bridge.

Idrani's antennae flatten against her head and she presses her lips together to avoid shrieking as the sound assaults her very sensitive auditory system. Teeth gritted against her sudden throbbing headache, she calls out, "Damage report! Albertz, see to Lt. Cristobal" Then, "Shut that alarm off!"

Donner says, "Damage on decks 1 through 3 and 7... seems to be localized in the communications arrays and support systems, sending damage control teams now.

As the Operations console explodes in his face, Cristobal is thrown backwards in a shower of sparks, landing nearly face-first on the floor. He's still conscious, apparently, as he slowly pushes himself off the deck to a sitting position. A thin line of red trickles down his cheek.

Caeli winces before his eyes go wide, and he instinctively shifts over towards Olog away from the explosion even as he sends the alarm packing with a few deft taps. "Aye, sir. Damage alert canceled."

O'Rielly looks like he wants to scramble for a second, first reaching to grab his console, then his chair, then just looking like he doesn't know if that's even safe. In the end he looks over his console, trying to figure out whether it was a plasma hit, or something further.

Idrani speaks through still-gritted teeth, antennae flat. "What hit us? Sensors, what was that energy spike?"

Baxx frowns and flicks his hands across the consoles before him, barely acknowledging Albertz as the Scot dashes past him. "I'm trying to isolate exactly what that was, sir," he says with determined cool. "With our sensor range so limited, we only got a flash of it before it hit us..."

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

Donner says, "No damage showing on the Albative armor system... Lt Caeli, did we take any damage to the shields?"

Albertz hurries over to Cristobal, as ordered, retrieving a handy med kit and pulling out medical tricorder en route. Reaching the prone man, he crouches down and passes the tricorder over him in a quick sweep. "Took quite a shot there sir...just minor burns and a wee cut." The nurse rummages through his medkit and comes out with a dermal regenerator. "A couple touches from the magic sponge and you'll be back tae normal." A flick of a switch on the device and Albertz runs it over Cristobal's burns and cut. Once. Twice. Thrice. Peering closely at where the cut once was, the nurse gives a small nod. "There. As they say, good to go."

Idrani's brow furrows. "Keep on it, Lieutenant Baxx." Then, "Lieutenant Donner, ETA until our Communications are back online?"

Caeli shakes his head, sounding mildly frustrated. "No, it went clean through. Shields still at 100 percent."

"Still assessing the full bredth of the damage sir, but the indicators are that it's a complete system blow out, it could take us 4 hours to get rudimentary comms on and it will take another six with an EVA to get them fully back online. I must be honest, I don't look forward to sending a repair team out in suits into that environment." Donner responds.

Cristobal mutters, "Thank you Ensign," running a hand through his smoky-smelling hair before standing up and heading back over to his console to see if it's at all functional.

Two mustard turtlenecked enlisted technicians arrive on the bridge from the turbolift and hurry toward the Operations Console with tool kits, parts and tricorders whirring.

Caeli swivels back to look between Idrani and Donner. "We can't turn /back/... there are people out there."

Idrani nods, brow still furrowed. "Lieutenant Caeli, can we program a probe with our situation and coordinants and launch it back toward the station? Or did those get damaged as well?"

Caeli purses his lips. "We /can/... but if even one plasma flare comes close, then pfft. No more probe."

O'Rielly remains seated at his station, still looking over it. "I believe we can still complete our assigned mission even without communications fully up."

Idrani nods. "Very well. Prepare a spread of them. Hopefully one will get through." Her antennae flick in O'Rielly's direction. "All right. Continue repairs on the rudimentary comms, Lt. Donner. Beg and borrow from all available personnel to see if we can't cut that timeframe down. Take what you need. Helm, continue course and speed."

"Well that's certainly unhelpful," Baxx mutters at his console. "I don't care if the wavefront matches the fractal mapping of a neutron star -- who programmed this console?" He taps at the thing some more, flicking through various visual representations of the energy spike.

Caeli nods curtly, swiveling back and beginning to program the probes while whistling a lilting tune Olog and Baxx might recognize.

Albertz closes his medkit and returns to Baxx's side to resume his secondary duty as science sensor backup. One ear is kept open to the discussion between the higher-ups but his attention is mainly focused on the sensors. "Star?" A quizzical look is directed at the Science Officer.

The technicians are busily pulling apart Cristobal's console working with clearly practiced team work for just such a job, they don't talk, one knows what tool to pass the other without being asked and alread a stack of burned out parts sits on one side and replacement parts brough stack is dwindling.

Cristobal frowns a bit at the ruined Ops console. Peering around the bridge, he makes a quick assessment of heirarchy, and heads for the center of the room. Seating himself at the First Officer's seat, he says, "Temporarily routing operations through the XO's console." Hopefully this one won't blow up on him.

"Oh, well why didn't you say so?" Baxx asks the console, then twists elaborately around to face the rest of the bridge. "It was some sort of subspace wavefront -- looked a lot like a comms hail, except it was a few levels of magnitude deeper and broader once you peeled off the wrapper. Most likely the communications array tried to buffer it and got in way over its head." His hands dance over the console some more, and he adds, "It's definately artificial, though. Somebody doesn't want us to contact the outside world."

Idrani listens, steepling her long, slender fingers. "Can you triangleate the source of the wavefront?"

O'Rielly says, "or perhaps somebody was actually trying to contact us."

Baxx shakes his head. "Not unless their idea of 'hello' is downloading their culture's publication history, Lieutenant," he comments, then the display before him scales out to show the surrounding Sandstorm. "With one hundred meters for range, sir, there's no way I could pinpoint the source. Judging by the damage in the ship, it looks like the wavefront passed stem to stern, so it came from somewhere deeper in the Sandstorm."

Donner asks, "Can I take from the tactical department? There won't be people to supervise the torpedo auto-loaders, and I'll take from science... security to act as labor. If I can take from all of those, maybe three quarters the time. With only forty people and some areas requiring continual supervision... I can free up my other officer if you allow me to relocate to main engineering, sir."

<CONTEST> Caeli contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

Caeli's programming attempts could be going better. He furrows his brow and resumes his efforts with renewed gusto, because all in all it shouldn't be terribly hard to do. So when he fires them off with a satisfied nod and a "Probes away, sir," he's understandably upset that they all veer off into a plasma flare. D'oh. "Uhm. Probes destroyed, sir."

Idrani considers Donner's request, then nods. "Go ahead, Lieutenant. But if we have to sound red alert, I'll want those tactical personnel back to the torpedo bays immediately, if not sooner. Go ahead to main engineering and keep me updated on your status." Her antenna flick over to Caeli. "Try again, Lieutenant."

<CONTEST> Caeli contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

"Aye, aye sir." Donner says, and she does this without tossing Caeli a look of consternation, instead moving away from her station and into the turbolift.

This time the big blue lunk at tactical has a bit more luck, and the next wave of probes arc off happily towards S419. Well, as happily as a probe can really get, anyway. Which is to say they don't die. "Probes enroute and on course this time, sir," he reports with the slightest twinge of a cerulean blush creeping into his cheeks and a glance towards Donner.

O'Rielly smirks as he hears the probes are back on course, actually being sent now.

Idrani nods. "Very good, Lieutenant Caeli."

Olog asks, "Continue on course and speed, sir?"

Idrani says, "Yes. Carry on, Lieutenant Olog."

Olog then carries on as instructed.

Cristobal taps away at the console set into the armrest of the executive officer's chair. Running through the comm-system, he attempts to reinforce the system against any further surges.

O'Rielly says, "any estimate of how much further the trail extends?"

"Further than we can presently see, sir," Baxx replies, face intent on the console before him.

O'Rielly says, "considering we can reach out further than we can see, that isn't exactly reassuring."

Caeli swivels to momentarily face O'Rielly. "Technically that's not true. We're getting 100 meters on the sensors instead of the usual thirty."

The technicians secure the new console plate in place and the shorter one of the two runs a diagnostic on the station to ensure it's operations, the taller one running a tricorder scan. They nod to each other and the taller one, a Petty Officer, says, "Operations station restore to functionality, sir."

"We are floating in a murky bubble two hundred feet wide, beyond which is nothing but energetic matter," Baxx mutters ominously. "Let's hope the proximity detectors are working correctly."

O'Rielly smirks to Caeli, "I was being facetious slightly Lieutenant. Had I been being serious, I'd ask you if you had further than 100 meter range on the phasers or torpedos."

Idrani nods. "Very good, Petty Officer."

Albertz is seen and not heard as he stands his post by the science station. Not much for a medical officer to offer in a situation like this, so his mouth is kept shut. His silence doesn't indicate a lack of interest though and his listens carefully to all the conversation on the bridge. Soaking it up, as it were.

With that confirmation from the CO, the two enlistedmen pick up their tool kits and head for the turbolift and the next repair on their list.

"By the Great Bird!" Olog swears and with a flurry of his fingers on the console the inertial compensators groan as the USS Rio De Plata is seen floating for a moment on the view screen and then slipping by as the Flemming takes evasive manuevers at a quarter of light speed... no collision alarm sounds indicating that they managed to dodge the smaller vessel.

Idrani sits up straighter in her chair, gripping the arm-rests, reflexively. "All right, Lieutenant." she says quietly, "Bring us up alongside her. Get me a full sensor sweep."

"Well, either the proximity detectors are working fine, or the collision sirens are broken," Baxx asides to Albertz. "You keep on the breadcrumb trail, I'll start acquiring a scan of the runabout."

O'Rielly watches the runabout on the screen for a moment then as the ship evades. "Objective one complete."

Cristobal logs out of the XO station and makes his way back up to the operations chair. He checks the chair out. Nope, no burns. Clearly his face protected the synthetic leather of the chair from any harm. He sits down and logs back into operations, readying himself to hail the vessel if need be.

Olog sighs audibly in relief then restores his military bearing as he says, "Aye aye sir, decreasing speed, coming about for an intercept course."

"I disabled the sirens at Lt. Idrani's request, Dorin," Zip says over his shoulder to the science officer. "They're back on, now. Try not to hit anything, Olog?"

<CONTEST> Baxx contests his Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Albertz nods an affirmative to Baxx's directive. "Breadcrumbs...I hope there's not a wicked witch at the end of them." The ensign taps in a few commands to his console and picks up on the trail where the Science Officer left off.

Olog replies without looking up from his console, "I'll let it be a personal challenge to myself." Under his breath he quietly adds to Caeli, "Unless you have a cute sister or something."

Caeli smiles brightly, looking back to his console. "Six."

Idrani gives Caeli a sidelong look. "What's her status, Lieutenant Baxx?"

On the viewscreen the U.S.S. Rio de Plata comes back into view and grows ever larger as the Fleeming closes.

O'Rielly is listening very intently while looking over to Baxx as well, just as curious as Idrani is, if not more so.

Baxx smirks at the remark from Tactical, then begins speaking as information cascades down his screen. "The runabout is holding at about sixty meters off the bow," he remarks, speaking as he reads from his display. "The craft is at rest, its systems are online and operating... there are no lifesigns." He taps at the console again, and adds, "No bodies, either." He turns to regard Idrani, saying, "Their telemetry logs should be intact, sir, if we wanted to find out where the ship has been, and perhaps where its crew presently -is-."

Idrani says, "Lieutenant O'Rielly, do you want to download the logs from here or send over an away team? If the logs give us a clue where to proceed from here, we can leave an away team with the runabout."

Idrani adds, "Or we can board the shuttle and dock it in the shuttle bay, if the systems are stable and everything is safe." The possibility of sabotage has entered into her mind.

Caeli swivels to face Idrani, momentarily ruing his newfound position at the front of the bridge. "Should I assemble an away team, sir?" Ah, yes. Goldshirts. The redshirts for a new century.

"I have a complete scan of the runabout, sir," Baxx suggests. "I can send it down to Armoury and they can pick through it for any sign of a trap -- explosives, a rigged warp core..." He looks expectantly to Idrani.

O'Rielly says, "lets leave the shuttle out there for now. Send an away team, download the information, and bring it back."

Idrani nods to O'Rielly. "Assemble your away team, Lieutenant Caeli. Lieutenant Baxx, forward the scans to Armoury, have the EOD specialist look it over carefully. Lieutenant O'Rielly, go ahead and download the command codes onto a tricorder, so the away team can unlock the systems and download the data."

Baxx taps the sequence of keys that sends the report down into the bowels of the ship, nodding when the console reports the receipt.

Caeli rises from his seat, leaving a bit of a residual swivel, and looks about the bridge. "Nathan, Hamish, let's get going. Lieutenant O'Rielly, will you be joining us?"

O'Rielly says, "There shouldn't be any boobytraps on the runabout." He downloads the command codes for the away team, "And the codes are downloaded. Just bring the information back to the ship once it's download it." He shakes his head to Caeli, "No, I've got to get the systems ready to analyze the data you're about to bring back."

Cristobal says, "I /can/ go if you wish, but I don't think you really need me along. Here I can keep a watch on the tactical situation while you're away."

Caeli bites one corner of his lip, and nods. "Alright. It's a little ship, at any rate. Get your phaser and let's move, Hamish." Zip lets his long strides take him up towards the turbolift and looks expectantly to Albertz.

Albertz is up and away from the science station before Caeli's orders have been completely issued. Grabbing the medkit, he slings it over his shoulder, strap crossing his chest almost like a bandolier. A burn healing, break setting, disease curing bandolier. "Aye sir." Hamish pats his phaser and tricorder, ensuring they're attached to his belt and hurries to the turbolift.

Idrani settles back in her chair, glancing at the damage repair status on her command chair. She falls silent.

Cristobal taps away at his console, abbreviating the ops controls and bringing up tactical. Quick scans unsuprisingly show nothing else in the one hundred meter radius he can see.

Baxx's console blips, gaining his attention. A moment later, he reports, "The ship is clean and safe, although its microtorpedoes are armed. A plasma spike, if it hit just the wrong place, would set them off." He gives Caeli a look of warning. "Be quick; there's no way to predict when or where the next one will strike. Fair weather."

O'Rielly says, "the command codes will also allow you to disarm the torpedos if you have time. But the logs come first."

Idrani shakes her head. "Belay that." she says, giving O'Rielly a respectful nod. "Disarm the torpedos first. If an energy spike hits, you could stand to lose the ship -and- the logs. I have to put the safety of the crew first, Lieutenant."

and take 10 while I refill coffe and write the skipping emit.

The away mission is short and rather easily accomplished, with Caeli and Albertz beaming over to the Rio de Plata's two person transporter pads and immediately taking control using the access codes provided. The data is downloaded and the torpedos brought offline. And then Caeli combadge to combadge calls the Flemmming's transporter chief to retrieve them. Shortly thereafter Albertz and Caeli return to the bridge with their salvaged data and the Rio de Plata continues to drift non-crewed.

Caeli lifts his tricorder in the air as he walks onto the bridge and waves it back and forth a moment before depositing it on top of O'Rielly's console. "I brought you back a souvenir, Lieutenant. The micro torpedoes were a bit out of my price range." He grins mirthfully, and slips back into the tactical chair as if he had never left.

Idrani looks over at O'Rielly. "How long will it take you to decrypt the data?" she asks.

O'Rielly takes the information from Caeli and smirks. He then starts to download it to the console to look it over, "I should be able to tell you in just a second Ma'am."

<CONTEST> O'Rielly contests his Espionage (Cryptography) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

Cristobal continues to keep an eye on tactical scanners, futile as it may be given sensor visibility at the moment.

Albertz rejoins Baxx at the science station for the second time. One cut cheek and one shuttle retrieval. It's been an eventful mission thus far!

O'Rielly frowns as he looks over it. "It's definitely non-standard SI encryption. It will probably take nearly an hour." He looks up for a moment, "The question now remains of is the trail still registering on sensors? If the runabout is here, it most likely just drifted here.

Idrani nods to O'Rielly, "Go ahead and decipher it, Lieutenant O'Rielly. Pull someone to work on it with you, if you think it'll help." To the Science stations, "What's the status of the trail?"

"The trail is still visible," Baxx reports, "and the Sandstorm's interference makes it impossible to backtrack the runabout's prior position based on its present velocity. I couldn't tell you if our destination is a lightyear away or... well. One hundred and one meters ahead."

O'Rielly nods, "Then trying to follow the trail is our current best bet."

Caeli looks aside to the helm Bolian, then back to Baxx. "Would it be possible to send a probe ahead of us to scout, with a communications wire trailing back? Like the old torpedoes that ended the Privateering era?"

Idrani nods. "Very well. Drop a beacon at the shuttle so that we can find it again, and in case someone -else- finds it before we get back." She nods to Caeli. "My thoughts exactly. Can we rig a probe to do that?"

"Unless there are some proximity mines ahead that you're not telling us about, Zip, I don't see the advantage," Baxx says, gaze going from Caeli to Idrani as she takes up the idea. "It's not like we're uncertain if our destination is that direction -- all we have to do is follow the trail, and we will get there, eventually."

Olog says, "I don't know anything about cracking codes, and even if I did, I'm probably not cleared for the data on it anyway. Maintaining position."

Caeli furrows his brow. "I don't know about you, Dorin, but I'd rather know what's there before we're a hundred meters away."

Idrani checks a few readings at her console. "No, I don't think it'll work. We don't have the communications to guide the flight and we'd only get a very few meters' readings anyway. Helm, continue following the trail after we've dropped the beacon. Resume impulse speed."

Olog, "Coming about to resume previous heading and speed, aye, sir."

Caeli sighs and turns back to his tactical console. Nothing to shoot.

The view in the viewscreen whirls away from the Rio de Plata again and soon it's just sandstorm for as far as the sensors can see...

Cristobal removes the tactical controls from his own console and returns the operations controls to it's usual positioning.

O'Rielly continues to work at his console, going over the codes.

And eight minutes later... Baxx picks up a huge gravitational mass and the view screen shows a small "moon" that came almost out of nowhere. Olog announces, "Full Stop!" and initiates same without waiting for permission so as to avoid a collision with a very big object.

Idrani peers at the 'moon', "Sensors, give me a reading please." She asks quietly.

<CONTEST> Baxx (claiming advantage) contests his Planetary Sciences (Planetology) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

Baxx directs Albertz to handle the planetoid's mineralogy while he probes its physical dimensions. The cocaphony of angry noises from the science consoles indicate repeated failure, however. "The Sandstorm's interference is making a survey nearly impossible, sir," Baxx notes with frustration. "The back end of the thing is beyond the extent of our sensors." A few moments and more buzzing chimes ring in before the bolian sighs and sits back. He looks over to Caeli and suggests, "Maybe it's time for your torpedo idea, to give us line of sight around the entire planetoid."

Caeli smiles slightly at his vindication. "Shall I, Lieutenant?"

Idrani nods. "Go ahead, Lieutenant Caeli."

Cristobal monitors communications, clearing a channel for the torpedo's information.

O'Rielly smiles when he sees the moon. "Excellent." He stands from his console, the logs forgotten for a moment.

Caeli pauses in his configuration work to glance back at the Intelligence-officer-turned-Mr.-Burns. "Do you know what it is, Lieutenant? Might save us a probe if you do."

<CONTEST> Caeli contests his Shipboard Systems (Tactical) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

O'Rielly taps his fingers together in no particular copyrighted motion. "I think I might, but send the probe anyway. I'm curious to see if it confirms."

Caeli adds to Idrani, "Whenever you're ready, sir, the probe is wired up and programmed for an orbit of the... thing."

Idrani flicks her antennae in O'Rielly's direction. "Launch probe, Lieutenant Caeli."

Caeli stabs a finger down on the control with chutzpah. "Probe.. away. Control circuits active."

The probe is launched and sails smoothly away from the Flemming.. extending the range of the sensors by another 30 meters before it's telemetry is lost due to the comms being down...

<CONTEST> Baxx (claiming advantage) contests his Planetary Sciences (Planetology) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

"Receiving telemetry," Baxx murmurs as the information scrolls down his screen. The bolian squints at the data, shaking his head. "The Sandstorm is distorting the transmission, some of this is going to be garbled." He hits a sequence of glowing squares, saying, "It just remains to be seen if the computer can sort things out despite the difficulties..." When the computer chirps negatively, the science officer's face falls. "Frederick."

Caeli winces at the word. "That bad?"

Idrani frowns slightly, sitting up further in her chair. "Lieutenant O'Rielly, if you have any thoughts on what you think this might be, I'd like to know about them, please."

"Well, it's either that bad, or there's an advanced civilization with a biology based on aluminium down there," Baxx replies, and wipes the readout from his screen. "Sir, I can't get any readings on the planetoid, and my own inexperience in dealing with worlds outside Class-M isn't helping things."

. o O Caeli thinks "Wow. A civilization based on Aluminum. And another First Contact. I'll have /two/ Prantares Ribbons!"

O'Rielly says, "not quite a civilization based on aluminum, at least not that I know of. But there's a good chance that either whatever is down there, or the planetoid itself is an iconian artifact."

Cristobal ponders for a moment and says, "Computer, based on the arc of the planetoid off our bow currently visible to our sensors, and assuming the planetoid is a spheroid, calculate the approximate diameter."

Baxx's brow pops up like a cork released underwater. "What leads you to that supposition, Lieutenant?" he asks, somewhere between interested and bemused.

Albertz maintains his rather unassuming presence near the science station, ready to spring into action if another console explodes. Or something.

Idrani perks up, antennae moving slightly. "Helm," she says quietly. "Take us in a high orbit around the... planetoid."

O'Rielly says, "primarily based on the fact that it was the belief that there was iconian technology out here that sent the crew away from the sandbox which of course eventually led to us being here right now."

Caeli swivels back in his seat to regard Idrani quizzically. "Do we have any shuttles, sir?"

The tones of the computer come saying, "Based on present data, approximately 879 kilometers."

Idrani says, "Two shuttle pods and one warp shuttle."

Caeli cants his head to one side. "Wouldn't the subspace transceivers in the emergency kits have survived? We could probably get a weak signal back to the station."

Idrani inclines her head. "You can check, Lieutenant, but I think it's likely that the energy spike knocked those out as well."

"If my reconstruction of events was correct, any communications equipment that was offline at the time of the attack would be unaffected," Baxx offers, "although that subspace jammer might automatically target any active subspace transceiver, and the moment we bring something online... pzzzt."

Caeli nods, and turns back to his station to divert an enlistedman from the repairs to check the shuttles. "One moment, sir."

O'Rielly says, "Somewhere down there is the crew we're looking for, so whether it's by shuttle or by other means, we need to be able to figure it out." He looks to Caeli, "Were the comm systems active on the runabout?"

Caeli nods slowly. "Yes, they were open to receive hails. But..." he cants his head, and nods emphatically. "But the ones on the Sandbox were /not/. They were in powered-down standby. We could maybe bounce a signal off through there..."

Baxx nudges Albertz and murmurs to him quietly, directing him to do something at his station. On his screen blossoms an irregular spheroid, and data starts scrolling around it.

Cristobal notes to Caeli, "The emergency relays only have a range of a light-year or so unless their run through another system like on a shuttle. Then you might be able to squeeze out five light-years."

O'Rielly says, "the reason I was asking is because the runabout was further into the storm than we were. If there was something out there attacking open comm systems, the runabout should have been fried."

Idrani says, "Helm, continue orbit around the planetoid. Sensors, concentrate your scans for a docking port or a beam-in station.""

<CONTEST> Baxx (claiming advantage) contests his Shipboard Systems (Sensors) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Fails!

"Aye sir, initializing standard orbit procedures." The Bolian helm officer states.

Baxx frowns at his display. "Zip, take a look at this data I'm sending you. It's like picking out rocks in a storm."

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

Caeli creases his brow, shoving his tactical windows aside to look over the sensor data. "Great /Bird/... Dorin... correlate this. I'm seeing what /has/ to be artificial... advanced metallurgy, packed in nice and tight. I don't recognize any of it. There's a room that looks like it's set up perfectly for us, 12 by 3 by 8 meters, class M environment and Earth standard G." He looks up, and back to Baxx. "Coincidence?"

Baxx looks at what Caeli has extracted from the gobblygook as it comes back to his screen. "No wonder the computer's planetary database couldn't find a match for this," he sighs, and slaps bulkhead above the console. "It's not a planet."

O'Rielly frowns, "That sounds like exactly the place the first away team beamed down to. We never heard from them again.

Idrani comments quietly, "Many Iconian ruins have been found on Class M planets. Can you find a docking port of some sort?"

"No, Lieutenant," Baxx corrects mildly, "This isn't a ruin on a planet. This is a planet-sized ruin. It's entirely artificial."

Caeli looks back to Idrani for a moment. "Sir, Lieutenant O'Rielly is right." For once. "This could very likely be the same sort of place the runabout's crew went into... /both/ runabout crews."

Cristobal says, "If this is what the Rio's crew investigated, we need to be careful."

Idrani considers carefully. "We need to communicate this back to the station. Lieutenant Caeli, you were mentioning a signal relay plan. See what you can do with it, but be very careful. I don't want to do anything to damage our communications network, as it were, any further. Lieutenant Baxx, Ensign Albertz, what are the chances of that energy spike coming from this... artifact. Can you find any correlation?"

O'Rielly says, "if only we could beam a probe down in there and still get telemetry."

"Ahm, I... suppose..." Baxx says, and brings up a display of the planetoid. "Ensign, let's see if we can find some still-warm subspace signal generators. The wavefront didn't hit us much more than an hour ago, so there may still be lingering traces of the sort of power that must have used..." As he speaks, he is tapping away at the console, the display awash with different colors and lights.

Albertz starts tapping away at the console, "Signal generators. Aye sir." And he does just that, beginning a scan to search the artifact for energy traces and the like.

Caeli nods to Idrani. "Aye, sir. The emergency transceivers are still in working order. They might be able to get a signal to 419, or to the sandbox and use that as a relay. But in all honesty, I'm not an engineer. We just wear the same color shirts is all."

"Um, if I might interrupt," Baxx says, and taps a few more times and turns to butt in on Caeli and Idrani. "It's a software, not a hardware, problem. The comms try and translate an untranslatable hail. If you can reprogram the system to ignore hails -- or even to ignore hails from the specific bandwidth that the attack comes across -- when you bring up the system, it will be effectively immune to the subspace jammer's attack."

Idrani lifts a brow. "Good thinking, Lieutenant. Make it so."

Baxx bobs his head and returns to working on the scans.

Olog says, "If its that easy, wouldn't that imply it wasn't really an attack at all but perhaps more like a Giant trying to shake hands with a flea?"

Idrani nods. "I imagine that's what we'll find out."

O'Rielly says, "program it to ignore non-starfleet comm signatures for now. Best bet, especially if somehow we can lock onto some sort of fleet signature." He looks to Olog, "When dealing with technology such as this, that may very well be the case. I already voiced my doubts as to if it was an attack."

Baxx glances over to Olog, nodding. "Perhaps it was their entire culture's publication history," he allows.

Caeli glances aside to Olog. "Let's try using all of our arms, then? Maybe there's some spare computer power we can borrow from nonessential systems. Or even use the Sandbox."

O'Rielly says, "Perhaps we should just store anything that comes in, and tell the comm systems not to process it."

Cristobal says, "I /really/ wouldn't recommend that. It might overflow the buffer and cause another burnout."

Idrani nods. "I agree. Let's err on the side of caution, for now."

. o O Caeli thinks "Well what do you expect. I'm a cop, not a linguist."

"First Orbit complete sir. Go around again or assume a different orbital pass position or would you like me to position us over the Class M area?" Olog announces and asks.

Idrani considers. "Position over the Class M area, Lieutenant."

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

Olog says, "Geo-synchronus orbit achieved sir."

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

Pleased to see that another potential explosion a foot from his face has been averted, Cristobal resumes his observation of his readouts.

Idrani murmurs, "Acknowledged." She waits for the report from the Science stations.

"That signal was simply -enormous-, though, and ridiculously complex," Baxx says with half his brain as the other concentrates on scanning the planet below. "If it was intended as something friendly and routine, what could all that information be regarding?" He thwacks a little golden square and mutters. "Sir, it appears the entire surface of this artifact is capable of generating a contiguous subspace signal, and it's still radiating in a few spectra. This is our culprit. Now the only question is why it's sending out libraries of information to incoming ships. Did the communication system catch -any- of that signal for examination? Perhaps we could attempt to decode a portion of it?"

Idrani comments, "It is First Contact protocol to send our Federation introductory data packet to new species." She checks her console at the command chair to see if, indeed, the communication system and Universal Translator managed to catch any of the signal.

O'Rielly checks his console, seeing if there might be anything it has detected that could be of use.

"This is true," Baxx nods. "And if we assumed our recipients could handle a larger and more complex signal, no doubt we'd pack more information into it..."

Idrani says, "Perhaps they're shouting, to make sure we hear them."

Cristobal says dubiously, "I can check." He digs through the comm logs to attempt to see if anything from the blast they experienced before left any useful data in their computer.

O'Rielly looks over his console and what he sees. After a moment he says, "I've isolated what it is. And I can tell you it was not something specifically designed to attack us."

Baxx actually steps away from his terminal and tries to crane his neck to see what O'Rielly has come up with in his little cubbyhole.

O'Rielly shuts off the monitor when he notices Baxx attempting to look. "Yes Lieutenant?"

Baxx straightens, pointedly looking away, attempting and failing to look innocent.

Cristobal shakes his head and says to Idrani, "Nothing there except what Baxx found at the time it hit us. Transferring it to your terminal," he says, proceeding to do so.

GAME: Idrani spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Idrani (claiming advantage) contests her Computer (Research) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

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

O'Rielly says, "I don't think there will be any danger from the signal. Please just reprogram the comms to ignore it completely."

Baxx returns to his science station and punches desultorily at his console.

Cristobal frowns, "If this /is/ an Iconian artifact, is it wise to turn a deaf ear to whatever it might be trying to say?"

Idrani mms softly, peering at her console. "Interesting. The signal doesn't match anything in the Iconian database." Her fingers tap faintly on the padd.

O'Rielly says, "the signal is not Iconian. It is nothing to worry about now. Once the signal is filtered out, we can proceede as normal."

Idrani glances down at her console, brow lifting slightly. "Lt. Baxx, can you pick up any life signs readings on the Class M section?"

. o O Idrani thinks "Who does this guy think he is?"

Caeli glances back to O'Rielly, then Idrani once, and continues tapping busily at Tactical.

. o O O'Rielly thinks "That's a good Lieutenant, do as the intel officer tells you."

Cristobal faces his terminal, concealing a frown as he goes back to his readouts.

"I can try," Baxx replies, and his fingers skate across the console. He cross-references with Albertz, muttering about the modular design confusing the targetting of the sensors.

"No life signs," comes the bolian's report, "and no bodies, either. It's a boring, empty room."

Caeli purses his lips. "They had to have gone /somewhere/..."

"Our scan's aren't getting the half of this structure," Baxx says, shaking his head. "No doubt if they were deeper inside, we wouldn't be able to see them from here."

O'Rielly says, "empty as it may be, I somehow doubt it's boring. Well, unless we're gonna take a really low orbit to try and scan the room directly, we should prepare an away team. The computer said class M status, normal gravity and such. We're definitely gonna need environmental suits."

Caeli swivels in his seat to face O'Rielly, his face a mask of incredulity. "Two teams lost to this thing already and you want to just send in a third? With your logic, we'll fit the entirety of Starfleet into that 233 cubic meter space."

Idrani nods. "All right," she says quietly, "Lieutenant O'Rielly, who do you want for your away team." She glances at Caeli, "We have a job to do, Lieutenant Caeli. We'll gather as much data as possible before going in, but ultimately, that's likely what we'll have to do."

O'Rielly says, "If I remember correctly Lieutenant, just a week ago you wanted to come here in a runabout, let alone a full starship."

Cristobal corrects, "Two hundred eighty-eight. And unlike a runabout, this ship has crew enough to get /back/ if our away team..." he shrugs and concludes, "goes away." A pause, "What if we beamed down a tricorder rigged to a compin that could send readings on the room back to us?"

Caeli lets the beginnings of a grin cross his face. "I never said I didn't want to go."

Baxx turns from his station at the science terminal, waiting to hear O'Rielly's picks. Will he get to go visit the 20 million year old artifact? Will he go see the planet-sized station of the dead civilization? Will he get picked for the basketball -- er, away team?

O'Rielly looks to Cristobal and says, "If you can get me a whole damned probe down there that sends us back information, I'd appreciate it.pulls up the crew manifest and looks at it. "I've got six I'll send down. An away team larger than any that have gone down, plus it can split up into three places.

O'Rielly looks to Cristobal and says, "If you can get me a whole damned probe down there that sends us back information, I'd appreciate it." He then pulls up the crew manifest and looks at it. "I've got six I'll send down. An away team larger than any that have gone down, plus it can split up into three teams and search."

Caeli looks aside to Cristobal. "Think we could beam one in there, and maybe pull some telemetry out?"

Idrani says, "Helm, bring us into a closer orbit and Sensors, continue scanning the Class M area."

"Yes sir," Baxx acknowledges, and turns back to his console.

Cristobal ponders that and answers Caeli, "They're designed for use in vaccuum. Putting it in an atmosphere and gravity..." He shrugs, "It could be done, but it'd take a while to rig."

O'Rielly says, "ready a tricorder then. There's got to be away."

O'Rielly says, "I'll take Cristobal, Caeli, and Baxx. Let's go gentlemen."

. o O Cristobal thinks "First Zip, now O'Rielly...What is it with people I outrank taking me for 'their' away missions? Bah..."

Caeli rises for the second time in the evening, checking his phaser and reclaiming his tricorder as he makes for the back of the bridge.

Baxx logs out of his terminal, gives Albertz one last slap on the back for encouragement, and makes his way to the turbolift.

Cristobal stands, a bemused expression on his face. He makes his way after O'Rielly and the Blue people itno the turbolift.

O'Rielly locks his terminal and heads to the turbolift, "We'll call you down as soon as we're sure it's safe, if it's a first contact mission after all."

. o O Cristobal thinks "I just hope it's not a /last/ contact..."

Idrani sits back in her chair, monitoring the Mission Ops station from her console. "Good luck."

And a short time later O'Rielly, Cristobal, Caeli and Baxx materialize in the class M environment followed immediately by the sound of thier tricorders whirring. They haven't had time for even the command to keep an eye out when a human female in a starfleet uniform with the rank of Lieutenant and a command branch undertunic appears -- immediately recognizable to O'Rielly and Caeli as Lt. Arden Sanders. She greets them, even though the tricorders indicate there is nothing there but holographic light.

O'Rielly looks quizically as he sees Lt Sanders, though his tricorder doesn't register anything. He steps closer anyway, yet keeping his guard up, his muscles very tense, looking like they're ready to leap without any real notice. "Lieutenant Sanders, I'm Lieutenant O'Rielly, Station 419 Counterintelligence. Perhaps," he pauses for a second, still looking around, "you can explain what is going on here... and more importantly, why you aren't really here at all."

Cristobal frowns at the readings on his tricorder. Quietly, he murmurs, "I don't think that's Lieutenant Sanders..."

Caeli has a phaser in his hand rather than a tricorder, and pauses in his examination of the area surrounding them to approach the group with weapon lowered. "It looks like her," he muses to Cristobal, though his next query is posed to the phantom lieutenant. "Are you alright?"

Baxx lets the others focus on the holographic girl; they apparently have some connection with her, or at least, the woman she is based on. The sociologist puts his attention to his surroundings, taking in the details of the room designed for their comfort (but what assumptions about human and bolian comfort, and what assumptions about hospitality can be factored in?) and attempting to extend the range of his tricorder beyond the nearby walls. Working Iconian technology is rare enough; a planet-sized artifact is a once in a lifetime find. Somewhere in the back of his head, he is formulating the introductory paragraph of the first of many theses: "Iconian architecture, when applied to the comforts of humanity, a race that the Iconians never encountered..." From his contented little smile, he seems to like the way that sounds as an opener.

Sanders says, "I am here, just not physically. I'm going to explain so make sure your tricorders are set on record so you don't forget any of the details." She waits for this to be so then continues. "This is Core One, when translated to our language. It is the last bastion of a race known as the Rhana that over two million years ago was a well respected and influential race, wise and peaceful by nature with a strong ethical code that obligated them to share information freely but only as long as it did no harm. This extended to the thier belief in the right of sentience, that means that any species capable of self awareness was entitled to same and they would move along evolution in such cases making proto-sentient species like... the terran dog, into fully aware species. This also extended to primitive cultures which they would give technological advances to based on a custom tailoring of thier Sentient Maturation Index Quotient -- they gave what the society could absorb then gave more as time went by until a race had reached a mature level of ethical development and technology and could join the family of the galaxy. So then, this put them at odds with the Iconians who swept across the galaxy destroying and enslaving what they found and squandering countless species potential. But being peaceful they took no direct action, just offered what succor they could, until the Iconians came for them and thier society as well. War did not come easily to them and the price was almost more than their soul as a race could bear, they realize thier doom was merely a matter of time so they took everything they had, every bit of data, every biological sample, every resource needed to remake thier entire society and put it into this place. Their physical bodies they put aside, but knowing that they would stagnate as a people if just a collection of static or even hueristic memory files they developed an elaborate system where genetic samples were spliced and combined and made into new samples just like in natural reporduction all within the system here, and those samples were grown in vat incubators and implemented as learning engrams into the society stored in their grid to learn and live and love while the older samples eventually passed away through deliberate old age as if life had continued unabated on their real world... and so it has been for two million years on this place hidden within the sandstorm to hide it from the Iconians. They have the technology to come back, they have "clone" blanks that they instill with genetic data and upload the memory engrams into and then they will be flesh and blood again and continue thier species through the more physical method from then on and they seem now that they realize the Iconians are gone, eager to make contact with the rest of the Galaxy again and rebuild thier world."

"Which brings us to here... they have a group of people in there computer planet that have been trying to make contact with other races, like a search for intelligent life beyond their world... for a long time they feared the Iconians had wiped out all life and then wiped out themselves, but then they got a message from beyond -- and they tried to answer it even though it's meaning was lost on them. Then they tried variations hoping someone would come... and someone did come, my away team investigating the strange signals. Unfortunately, the place we beamed down to was the part of the facility where, in the last days of their old lives, the Rhana transported down and were rendered from flesh to energy engrams. The machines still worked, and we were transformed to this new state of life -- before we even realized we were actually... well, in a way dead and our ship had left, Dra and her team beamed down and the same thing happened to them. We have since explained the problem and they have turned off the intergrators, so you all are safe. Lucky you. They say they can make us new bodies, out of the clone blanks, but we need genetic samples to build them from. We need you to get DNA samples for each of us, hair, whatever, so we can be made flesh again. In the meantime, we'll continue with the first contact with the species. When you come back, bring a first contact team and don't worry, they won't be integrated either, unless they really want to be, which I wouldn't recommend."

Fortunae says, "Oh, you're probably wondering about the .... big message they sent out? Well, after we got here whoever sent the first signal must have sent out another one, stronger.. the Rhana contact group who we haven't met as we've been cloistered with their government types mostly to discuss reintergration with the physical world, thought the problem with the lack of return messages was that perhaps the race sending out the message was simply not hearing their reply so they sent out a stronger signal. I've explained about the Borg, they said they would stop. Whoever comes back and drop relay buoys to establish more regular contact.""

"Oh, you're probably wondering about the .... big message they sent out? Well, after we got here whoever sent the first signal must have sent out another one, stronger.. the Rhana contact group who we haven't met as we've been cloistered with their government types mostly to discuss reintergration with the physical world, thought the problem with the lack of return messages was that perhaps the race sending out the message was simply not hearing their reply so they sent out a stronger signal. I've explained about the Borg, they said they would stop. Whoever comes back and drop relay buoys to establish more regular contact."

Baxx's brow lifts as the explanation is given, glances about himself again, and reforms his introductory paragraph: "Rhana architecture, when applied to the comforts of humanity, a race that the Rhana never encountered..." He also makes a mental note to get himself assigned to the contact team if at all possible. The contented smile never leaves his face.

Caeli listens, nodding slowly as the tale is told, and eyes widening with every passing sentence. He says nothing, though before long his phaser has found its way back into its holster.

O'Rielly just listens to the story, hearing as it's detailed out, and his tricorder records it. He nods with it, very very surprised. "Well, you know as well as I do that Sector Command, will make the call on this. It shouldn't be too hard to get samples for you. We can comb the Sandbox for something that will work. SI will have all your DNA profiles in your medical records, so that combined with a team searching for it can get the job done easily." He looks to the others in the group, and just asks real quickly, "Do you think we can get a copy of the information they were submitting in some other form. The strong communications message nearly destroyed our ships comms, so we wouldn't be able to receive even if we asked you to send it to us with less power and in chunks. The more information they're willing to give us, the better position Commander Edison and his team will be in for getting the first contact done sooner." He smiles to the Lieutenant, still impressed by the story.

. o O Cristobal thinks "You're looking at the /architecture/?"

Cristobal peers oddly in Baxx's direction, shaking his head. He continues to take scans of the room, and the systems inside. It'll be classified, surely enough. But he'll have seen it. For now, that's enough. He says, "Since this is a first contact situation..." and taps his combadge, "Cristobal to Flemming..."

Idrani says, "Go ahead, Lt. Cristobal."

"They are working on a first contact packet but have decided to wait for the Federation contact packet first so as to evaluate us based on the SMIQ and then share about themselves on a level that won't harm our culture." She shakes her head bemusedly. "I told them that would come with a Contact team. That message that was sent out didn't contain anything, it was just a variation of the signal that was sent this way and made it to here, so I'm sure you know more about that then I do as you were outside the sandstorm, you'll need to run it down from that direction. Oh, and be sure to tell Commander Edison, no body or not, I expect my Intelligence Star for this." She winks. "I'm going to go now, have a meeting with the Ministry of Cultural Integrity... you can show yourselves out, I'm sure. Lucky." And then she is gone.

"Sir," Cristobal says into his compin, "We've discovered what happened to the previous teams, as well as the nature of this...place." Some talk in the background in Fed Standard that is coming from a feminine voice (i.e. one not belonging to any member of the away team) can be heard. Cristobal continues, "I think it's safe to say this is a first contact situation."

Caeli points out in a quiet aside to Cristobal, "Second contact."

. o O Caeli thinks "Poor Idrani. Two second contacts in one year."

O'Rielly taps his combadge and adds to the convo, "But it isn't at this moment. They are not ready to meet us yet. In either event, our mission here this time is done."

Idrani says, "Understood. Flemming out."

O'Rielly taps his combadge, "O'Rielly to Flemming, four to beam up."

The four officers become particles of blue light and are gone, a moment laters, the lights turn off one by one.

Captain's log, Stardate 53421.5. Lieutenant Jaylas Idrani, Diplomatic Attache Officer, S419. Acting CO of the USS Flemming.

We proceeded into the sandstorm, following the 'breadcrumb' trail left by the USS Rio De Plata, a runabout. As we followed the trail, we were hit with an enormous energy spike, which registered on sensors only an instant before it hit. The energy spike completely disabled our communications systems. In an effort to communicate with S419 and transmit our position and situation, we sent probes back to the station but it is unknown if they reached their destination. Repairs were estimated at several hours and I authorized pulling personnel from other departments to assist Engineering and Operations with the repairs. We continued with the mission parameters and soon reached the runabout. We found her abandoned, but with systems functioning and no evident sign of damage. An away team beamed over and recovered the telemetry data from the runabout, however Lieutenant O'Rielly was unable to immediately decrypt the data. The "breadcrumb" trail continued on and we eventually followed it to an artificial planetoid in the Sandstorm. We first believed this to be an Iconian ruin, however further investigation did not concur with this theory. LTJG O'Rielly took down his away team and met with a holographic representation of one of the Starfleet officers we'd been searching for. This ruin is a giant storage unit, it seems, for a very old species known as the Rhana. The height of their civilization was concurrent with the Iconians, placing the two species in eventual conflict. The Rhana withdrew, storing their conscious minds inside the computer, while keeping enough bio-samples to recreate physical bodies, once it was safe. The previous away teams were... absorbed into this system, but once genetic samples of them can be obtained, their physical bodies will be recreated. The energy spike we'd experienced was a 'hail' of sorts, something to attempt to make contact. The side effects on our communication systems were not intended. At any rate, the Rhana are expecting a First Contact Team to arrive, without integration into their system and relations will proceed from there. There are many implications here, the difference in technology level and, more to the point, the Rhana's penchant for uplifting species. If the Rhana are being truthful and this is a benelovent means to help younger races expand, it could still cause conflicts with our Prime Directive. This remains a matter for the First Contact team to undertake, at a later date. For now, friendly contact with the Rhana has been established. The away team members returned safely, repairs to our communications systems continue and as soon as possible, we will contact S419 and appraise them of our status.