Caged – [USS Swiftsure] Of Service
by Ensign Abbadon & Lieutenant Natasha Radcliffe
Post Details
Having eaten, vomited, nearly crippled himself trying to rid himself of his death-rage and then treated himself for it, he had cleaned up and put on a fresh uniform and stood in front of the mirror in the shared bunking area, staring at himself. He fixed his eyes on his reflection’s eyes and breathed deeply, focusing past his emotions, focusing past his doubts, focusing past the situation and focused on duty.
Tapping his badge he spoke, “Abbadon to Radcliffe.”
"Go ahead, Ensign."
"I'd like to be of service ma'am," he replied.
"You feel up to returning to duty already?" Radcliffe cursed herself silently. If he wanted to help after everything he'd been through, it wasn't her place to second guess that.
"The doctor is deceased. If you'd like, I am certified and I can stand in if you don't need another scientist," he offered.
"The EMH seems to be coping with the situation for now, Ensign, and I don't anticipate taking any more wounded. We've restored our warp engines and should make it back to starbase in about four hours. If you'd like to make yourself useful, I could use some help analyzing the security footage we recovered from the Neptune's Car. I'd like to learn more about who's behind all this."
"I'm on my way," he said even as he turned and headed out, his steps firm and measured but quick, steadily eating up the distance. In short order, he was on the bridge and was taking the science console. "How would you like to proceed lieutenant?" he asked, turning his seat around to look at her as he spoke.
That was new.
Tasha left her chair and moved to stand behind Abbadon. "Call up the internal sensor telemetry from the freighter at the time of the attack. The away team found significant encryption and disturbance when they examined them aboard-ship. I'd like to find out whether the attackers really were Breen."
He paused and considered before doing anything. "The Breen can be subtle but they are never interested in covering their tracks, trusting their own superiority," he said as he turned towards the console and with a few sliding touches pulled up the records. "They don't use cloaking technology, focusing on durability and firepower. Like the Klingons to an extent. He paused and turned the model, with quick touches isolating entire sections of data. "The damage is too consistent," he gestured to the data as he brought up a three-dimensional representation of the data blocks. "Computer, model the ends of the data blocks and assume they used the Neptune Car's standard encryption key and reconstruct the end based on the most likely sockets."
The computer chirped and paused for a moment. +The encryption sockets are damaged, unable to reconstruct+
Abbadon's jaw worked silently as he began to manually key in algorithm strings, pulling out the decryption key after several seconds of work. Once there he applied it and data scrolled out, some of it damaged, wiping selected sections of sensor data. He turned to Natasha and spoke softly, "The universal translator's pattern recognition software may be able to reconstruct the damaged sections. This is entirely too..." he paused trying to find a word in standard for it. "'Atypical'."
Radcliffe nodded, her understanding of the techniques Abbadon was using vague at best. "So we can be reasonably confident it wasn't the Breen. What about recorded imagery, can we get a look at the attackers?"
"Most of the visual records appear to be damaged," he replied, looked at the blocked out code. "But, internal sensors aren't just visual, thermal and resonance data," he added as he worked, separating the signal data where it had been damaged and pulling together several signals that were almost whole. Humanoid images popped up, none of them wearing Breen encounter suits, one profile was fairly recognizable.
Nausicaan.
Radcliffe nodded, noting that other figures in the image were less bulky. "Looks like quite a mixed bunch." She pointed to the figure leading the small party. "Can we get a better view of this one? We need his face."
Abbadon paused, ran an inquiry and then chuckled when a positive response came back. Reaching to one side he popped open a personal file and dragged over a program link and then ran the data from the sensor logs into it, got a three tone chirp and then he sat back and steepled his fingers as the program ran.
Tasha watched as the console cycled through the data stream. The methods were beyond her comprehension and, truth be told, she didn't care. Right now results were what interested her.
"The genetic program I wrote takes a moment to extrapolate," he smirked and went on to explain. "Most modern environmental systems have a set of internal sensors that allow them to detect dangerous airborne substances based on their molecular parts per million, billion or trillion. When a person transports aboard, even if it's not to a pad where the data of a pattern would be stored, their matter is briefly a free-floating set of molecules that the environmental system can and will read. That was in here," he gestured to the irregular data blocks. He turned and hit a contact and a hologram of a head appeared, filling in with details as they watched, "And this 'gentleman', as I use that term contemptuously, was one of them. When my program identified the gene-trace as Nausicaan, I knew I had enough to build from."
Radcliffe nodded. "And their leader?"
"Mh," he tapped in another inquiry and gene-math popped up along with several DNA sections. "Caitian, Klingon," he frowned at that one, "Orion and... a Human." He reached out and with his four fingers on the right hand, touched the four helix sections and flicked them into the extrapolation program, which began to build holograms of the people that had been caught on the environmental sensors.
Tasha leaned in over Abbadon's shoulder, as if doing so would make the computer work faster somehow. She watched as the holographic matrices began to coalesce.
"I know him," Abbadon growled (literally), his hair standing up around his face like a cat's fur as the Human's holograms was nearly finished, "That Human is the 'captain' of the ship that claimed to have destroyed the Fury."
Radcliffe recoiled from the console as if it had just lashed out at her, staring at the holographic image of the man's face. "That...isn't possible."
"I have an eidetic memory lieutenant," he replied absently, "I remember."
It took Tasha a moment to collect her thoughts. "Ensign, delete your algorithms. Computer, isolate all data and extrapolations currently active on the bridge science station. Secure and encrypt, command override only. Authorization Radcliffe-Delta-Two-Two-Four. Voiceprint confirm."
"Acknowledged, data encrypted," came the reply from the computer.
"Good work Ensign. Now keep those memories to yourself, understood?"
He grunted in response and with three key touches collapsed and mothballed the program.
Tasha returned to her command chair and sat. They'd be back on Starbase 47 in a matter of minutes now, and she had finally had something to report. Her mind returned to the face that had stared back at her from the image. "It can't be..."
-----------------------------------------------
Brought to you by:
Lieutenant Natasha "It's YOU" Radcliffe
CO, USS Swiftsure
Ensign Abbadon
Science Officer
by Ensign Abbadon & Lieutenant Natasha Radcliffe
Post Details
| Title | [USS Swiftsure] Of Service | |
| Mission | Caged | |
| Author(s) | Ensign Abbadon & Lieutenant Natasha Radcliffe | |
| Posted | Sun Jun 13, 2010 @ 9:51am | |
| Location | USS Swiftsure | |
| Timeline | Current |
Tapping his badge he spoke, “Abbadon to Radcliffe.”
"Go ahead, Ensign."
"I'd like to be of service ma'am," he replied.
"You feel up to returning to duty already?" Radcliffe cursed herself silently. If he wanted to help after everything he'd been through, it wasn't her place to second guess that.
"The doctor is deceased. If you'd like, I am certified and I can stand in if you don't need another scientist," he offered.
"The EMH seems to be coping with the situation for now, Ensign, and I don't anticipate taking any more wounded. We've restored our warp engines and should make it back to starbase in about four hours. If you'd like to make yourself useful, I could use some help analyzing the security footage we recovered from the Neptune's Car. I'd like to learn more about who's behind all this."
"I'm on my way," he said even as he turned and headed out, his steps firm and measured but quick, steadily eating up the distance. In short order, he was on the bridge and was taking the science console. "How would you like to proceed lieutenant?" he asked, turning his seat around to look at her as he spoke.
That was new.
Tasha left her chair and moved to stand behind Abbadon. "Call up the internal sensor telemetry from the freighter at the time of the attack. The away team found significant encryption and disturbance when they examined them aboard-ship. I'd like to find out whether the attackers really were Breen."
He paused and considered before doing anything. "The Breen can be subtle but they are never interested in covering their tracks, trusting their own superiority," he said as he turned towards the console and with a few sliding touches pulled up the records. "They don't use cloaking technology, focusing on durability and firepower. Like the Klingons to an extent. He paused and turned the model, with quick touches isolating entire sections of data. "The damage is too consistent," he gestured to the data as he brought up a three-dimensional representation of the data blocks. "Computer, model the ends of the data blocks and assume they used the Neptune Car's standard encryption key and reconstruct the end based on the most likely sockets."
The computer chirped and paused for a moment. +The encryption sockets are damaged, unable to reconstruct+
Abbadon's jaw worked silently as he began to manually key in algorithm strings, pulling out the decryption key after several seconds of work. Once there he applied it and data scrolled out, some of it damaged, wiping selected sections of sensor data. He turned to Natasha and spoke softly, "The universal translator's pattern recognition software may be able to reconstruct the damaged sections. This is entirely too..." he paused trying to find a word in standard for it. "'Atypical'."
Radcliffe nodded, her understanding of the techniques Abbadon was using vague at best. "So we can be reasonably confident it wasn't the Breen. What about recorded imagery, can we get a look at the attackers?"
"Most of the visual records appear to be damaged," he replied, looked at the blocked out code. "But, internal sensors aren't just visual, thermal and resonance data," he added as he worked, separating the signal data where it had been damaged and pulling together several signals that were almost whole. Humanoid images popped up, none of them wearing Breen encounter suits, one profile was fairly recognizable.
Nausicaan.
Radcliffe nodded, noting that other figures in the image were less bulky. "Looks like quite a mixed bunch." She pointed to the figure leading the small party. "Can we get a better view of this one? We need his face."
Abbadon paused, ran an inquiry and then chuckled when a positive response came back. Reaching to one side he popped open a personal file and dragged over a program link and then ran the data from the sensor logs into it, got a three tone chirp and then he sat back and steepled his fingers as the program ran.
Tasha watched as the console cycled through the data stream. The methods were beyond her comprehension and, truth be told, she didn't care. Right now results were what interested her.
"The genetic program I wrote takes a moment to extrapolate," he smirked and went on to explain. "Most modern environmental systems have a set of internal sensors that allow them to detect dangerous airborne substances based on their molecular parts per million, billion or trillion. When a person transports aboard, even if it's not to a pad where the data of a pattern would be stored, their matter is briefly a free-floating set of molecules that the environmental system can and will read. That was in here," he gestured to the irregular data blocks. He turned and hit a contact and a hologram of a head appeared, filling in with details as they watched, "And this 'gentleman', as I use that term contemptuously, was one of them. When my program identified the gene-trace as Nausicaan, I knew I had enough to build from."
Radcliffe nodded. "And their leader?"
"Mh," he tapped in another inquiry and gene-math popped up along with several DNA sections. "Caitian, Klingon," he frowned at that one, "Orion and... a Human." He reached out and with his four fingers on the right hand, touched the four helix sections and flicked them into the extrapolation program, which began to build holograms of the people that had been caught on the environmental sensors.
Tasha leaned in over Abbadon's shoulder, as if doing so would make the computer work faster somehow. She watched as the holographic matrices began to coalesce.
"I know him," Abbadon growled (literally), his hair standing up around his face like a cat's fur as the Human's holograms was nearly finished, "That Human is the 'captain' of the ship that claimed to have destroyed the Fury."
Radcliffe recoiled from the console as if it had just lashed out at her, staring at the holographic image of the man's face. "That...isn't possible."
"I have an eidetic memory lieutenant," he replied absently, "I remember."
It took Tasha a moment to collect her thoughts. "Ensign, delete your algorithms. Computer, isolate all data and extrapolations currently active on the bridge science station. Secure and encrypt, command override only. Authorization Radcliffe-Delta-Two-Two-Four. Voiceprint confirm."
"Acknowledged, data encrypted," came the reply from the computer.
"Good work Ensign. Now keep those memories to yourself, understood?"
He grunted in response and with three key touches collapsed and mothballed the program.
Tasha returned to her command chair and sat. They'd be back on Starbase 47 in a matter of minutes now, and she had finally had something to report. Her mind returned to the face that had stared back at her from the image. "It can't be..."
-----------------------------------------------
Brought to you by:
Lieutenant Natasha "It's YOU" Radcliffe
CO, USS Swiftsure
Ensign Abbadon
Science Officer