More & More Questions
Posted on Mon Aug 6th, 2018 @ 9:22pm by Lieutenant JG Ciara Odette Miss & Captain Mrazak & Lieutenant Colonel Storr Garlake & Ferrofax
Mission:
S1E1: Bynars Be Bygones
Location: Overwatch Station
Timeline: MD 14
Tags: Introduction, Ciara
A damp fog shot over the transparent aluminum window as the Overwatch Station formed against the flashing background of space, delaying her gaze as she tried to keep as much distance as possible between this new Station and herself. The fog quickly crept back though as the condensation evaporated, and the station edged closer, details beginning to take shape. A sharp exhale sent another layer of fog over the view, Ciara's face squished up against the viewport in a most likely comical manner if someone were to catch a peak from the outside of the shuttle.
It didn't make any sense. She was never the top of her class at the Academy, but she had done remarkably well during her cadet postings and first assignments. At least, she thought she did. But now this was her reality, a remote posting on a mostly automated station. A frantic burst of research after the reassignment order came through had revealed nothing to calm her nerves either, considering 'Memory Theta' was barely acknowledged to even exist in any official capacity. Maybe she hurt the feelings of an Admiralty brat or offended an ambassador, but she couldn't remember anything near bad enough to warrant... this. Another flare of nostrils, warm fog spilling out in defiance. "You can do this." Her face peeled off the window, taking a moment to wipe it clean and check her face and hair, fussing with them for just a moment before brushing down her uniform top with her palms.
The uniform she sported was fresh, just having been issued along with her confusing orders. It was crisp, clean and felt oddly comforting. Not to mention she did feel a secret thrill looking at the new pips on the bright yellow collar. "Lead Operations Specialist... and a Lieutenant Junior Grade promotion?". Her insides twisted about, the previously depressive feelings being displaced by a surge of optimism and pride bubbling up from within for a moment, then settled back down into a confused soup in her lower gut. She didn't know what to think, and at this point, it didn't matter as the shuttle twisted around to line up for a docking approach with pylon one. She just needed to do her best, besides... a station like that has to have some complex proprietary systems that would keep her busy for weeks just learning them, let alone optimizing.
As the craft went over to maneuvering thrusters only, she stood, slinging a Starfleet dark navy messenger bag across her back and pulling down a slim sealed silver suitcase from the storage above her seat. The suitcase was sealed with an ominous band of red tape, carrying her own personal phaser rifle she had managed to hang on to since her first posting. She had developed a sort of sentimental attachment to it after an incident on the USS Ashaton, but security had informed her the station would have to clear her bringing it aboard. Something about a very restrictive protocol. Stopping by the station security office on her way to check in and find her bearings would be required.
Metal groaned ever so faintly against metal, signaling the docking procedures final moments. The shuttle shook softly then settled, a series of dry Starfleet computer chirps following to indicate a seal. Ciara glanced down to the front of the craft at the pilots, who offered a thin-lipped smile and a wave, not making a move to disembark themselves. "Be safe!" One said, as she slowly turned to the airlock, took another breath, then marched through with a confident air about herself, tugging her shoulders back and settling a faint but welcoming smile upon her lips. "Welcome home, Odette." She whispered, walking down the docking ramp towards the nearest turbolift, knowing she has a few critical stops and hopefully decent impressions to make before finding her quarters.
The turbolift door's closed with a mechanical clinking....but the induction motors for the lift did not hum to life. In fact, the exact opposite was happening, as with a flicker, the control panel went dark, followed by the sequential dying of the booth's lighting system. Until after a moment, a single weak emergency light burned with chemical phosphorescence from the ceiling, casting the turbolift car in a wane yellow glow.
Ciara's eyes shot upwards as a brief surge of horror washed over her already tense nerves, the yellow glow melting into the highlights of her new uniform. Instinct sent a hand down to struggle with the security binding on the silver suitcase, wanting to access the phaser set if needed, but it didn't budge open.
"Be...safe," a voice said with evident disdain. "How kind of them wish you luck. You know, I've not released the docking clamps yet. If you want I could open the doors and you could scurry back to that ship and away from here. Yes...Yes, I like that idea."
The power suddenly clicked back on, and the door opened to reveal the docking portal.
"Have a 'safe' trip back to where you came from," the disembodied voice said, as a hum of a transporter deposited a folded bundle of cloth at her feet. "You even get an 'I Survived A Classified Death Trap' hoodie. Wear it with pride."
She made a move towards the door as soon as it opened, despite her eyes still being locked on the odd bundle that had just been deposited on the floor.
Mrazak revealed himself in front of the now open turbolift doors. "Greetings," he said. "You must be Lieutenant Odette. Please excuse that sordid message; I intended it... for someone else." He looked up at the ceiling. "Ferrofax, please deactivate Protocol Akiva-Omega-1."
The flummoxed woman slammed to a halt on the edge of the turbolift's doors, standing on the seam connecting the tube to the docking portal deck, ripping her gaze from the transported package, up to Mrazak.
"If you insist," the voice said a little snidely as the folded hoodie vanished within the glow of a transporter beam. "Though if you prefer we could resume our discussion concerning the erroneous assumption that I require an Operations Technician. I am not some mess hall replicator in need of a space janitor."
"Uh!" Ciara's eyes flicked to the teal collar of the man before her, noticing the three solid gold pips. Back snapping up straight, she managed a half decent if flustered salute. "Commander! Commander, Mrazak I assume?" The words trailed off as the snarky words filtering down from the ceiling settled into her brain, burning embarrassment taking hold, with a fine sprinkle of anger. "Who was that intended for, if I may ask? I had heard the computer system here was a touch temperamental but I didn't expect that..."
"Temperamental!"
The word echoed from every speaker grill on the level, rolling through the docking bay like the distant crescendo of thunder. Ferrofax's avatar materialized out of thin air, frock coat open at the collar and eyes burning a deep lustrous gold. Around his throat the white collar of the inhibitor program glowed a bright snow white, seeming to pulse with barely constrained energy.
"I am a Sword class artificial intelligence, the only active duty member of the Combat Automate program, and currently being held back from showing you my rightful anger by sixteen million lines of cleverly contrived code," he said pointedly. He then turned to glower at Mrazak. "I will admit looking at her record of achievement you might well have been blinded by her glittering review scores. But a big fish in a small bowl will not cut it here. Janeway, Picard, and Greenflet are perfectly adequate custodians for all minor repairs this station could need. And with a little fine tuning Janus will be just as capable."
Ciara watched the oddly dressed construct ranted before her, nervousness and fear melting away strangely enough as it now had a distinct form. Her lips pressed into a thin line with a faint smile resting upon them, dearly wanting to joust verbally with Ferrofax at some point. Sadly, this wasn't the time to jab back and ask why his authors were never able to solve for feelings of inadequacy, with 'sixteen million lines' of code.
Mrazak scoffed. "Janus was useless to me. Send it back to the trash can with the others. You will accompany the field team yourself from now on, Ferrofax. I will not be failed by lesser constructs."
"Trusting me near subspace transmitters again? You do have faith in this little program," he said, running a finger around the glowing illuminated band about his neck. "I'll be sure to pack a camera."
Hoping to have mollified his AI friend, he looked to Ciara with a burst of congeniality. "Welcome! I chose to meet with you here and now instead of in the stuffy, old administrator's office. It's probably a little dark in there at the moment. Let's walk and talk." Mrazak began walking down the corridor with his arms folded behind his back. Not once did he look back to see if Ciara followed. "We'll have to get you checked in with the station commandant so you won't fun afoul of any more hidden protocols reserved for our administrator. Tell me, though, what do you know of Memory Theta?"
Having regained her composure, Ciara turned to follow after giving Ferrofax a long look over with her grey eyes, offering a lopsided smile and nod to him before stepping quickly after Mrazak to meet his pace. "Thank you, Commander, I was never a fan of offices myself. Besides, I think I'll be spending a considerable amount of time learning the layout of the station, let alone all it's... unique systems, this is a start." She adjusted the strap of the bag set across her back, peering curiously down the hall as they walked.
"As for this posting, not much, which I'm sure doesn't surprise you. It's only ever mentioned in a few reports officially, and even then it's vague. Deep storage, with mostly automated systems, is what your average Starfleet Officer would conclude." Hesitating, she glanced over her shoulder at the Vulcan, trying to get a better read on the man. "But, with a bit more digging and asking the right questions, it's obviously much more than just your standard deep storage facility. Your welcoming party confirmed that much. The question is, just how deep does this Starfleet rabbit hole go, if I may be so bold? I'm thinking there will be a security clearance upgrade in my immediate future..."
Mrazak snickered at that. "You could say so. Our mandate from Starfleet is simple: take away all the bad toys so the children don't hurt themselves. My immediate need is for an Operations Specialist in the Field Team who will take point on handling and securing technical equipment, hazardous materials, and other tasks of that nature. It will require a quick wit, organizational skills, and the ability to identify the purpose and subsequent proper disabling, removal and/or storage of technology." He whipped his head in her direction. "With me so far?"
A mix of relief and excitement washed over her at the mere mention of field work, goosebumps running up her neck as she felt like the commander had just dosed her with a neuro-stimulant. "With you, sir. I was hoping for more of a challenge than managing automated systems. This sounds like a challenge, but a thrilling one, to say the least." Her lopsided smile returned, cracked, and blossomed into a full one.
"When we're not out in the field, you'll be on loan to the facility's maintenance crew to pick up shifts and otherwise keep your skills sharp. So long as you understand that you ultimately answer to me, no matter whose name is on the administrator office door, then you will do a fine job here at Memory Theta." Mrazak came to an abrupt halt and turned on his heels. His hand stretched in a gesture toward the office door. "This is Colonel Garlic's office. As the station commandant, he oversees the security of the facility and its staff." Leaning forward as if to share a secret, he whispered, "Don't let his size fool you: the colonel is a brute of a man."
Ciara chewed on the inside of her cheek as she absorbed Mrazak's words, nodding softly. "Easy to remember Commander, I'm excited to get started. I'll be awaiting the next of many surprises, eagerly." Grasping his hand, she squeezed with a firm grip and leaned in to meet him, head cocked to one side curiously, a muffled chuckle escaping at his words as she met the commander's eyes. "If, what was it you called him... Ferrofax didn't send me running, I'm sure the Commandant can't be that bad."
Mrazak ushered Ciara into the commandant's office without so much as a knock on the door. "Good morning, Colonel!" The outburst came before the doors even parted all the way. "I am ever so pleased to introduce the newest addition to the field team, Lieutenant Ciara Odette. Please do try your best not to eat her alive."
As she was ushered into the office, the words 'try your best not to eat her alive' stuck in her buzzing mind. Why did she think she was going to hear that more than once on Memory Theta? As the doors slid shut behind the pair, she scanned the office for anything out of the ordinary, before settling on the imposing body of the Commandant himself. "Thank you, Commander." She said in a soft tone, offering a genuine smile to the Vulcan.
Looking back to Storr, she dove right in. "Commandant." Accompanied by a more composed salute than her first today. "Odette, Ciara, reporting."
Storr's eyes were closed, a hand atop the overturned PADD on his desk. After releasing a held breath, he opened his eyes and they fell upon the room's only other occupant: a middling Starfleet Lieutenant with black hair, light gray eyes, and European features seeming to burst with energy at her new posting. Ah, youth. Then again, she was older than his wife, so there was that.
Chuckling at his internal thoughts, Garlake stood and half-leaned over the table, extending a massive hand. "Lieutenant Colonel Storr Garlake, Station Commandant. Have a seat," he said, motioning his just-shaken hand to one of the two chairs opposite his desk. While the office was large (far too large, and a constant reminder of the previous inhabitant of this room), Storr had it decorated much like his previous one: it boasted a desk, two chairs, a small coffee table (upon which a signed, encased rugby ball sat), a side table that boasted a cut glass whiskey decanter and 4 glasses upon a silver set (Jaya's wedding gift to him), and sufficient wall space for the mounted heads of a Klingon Jackal Mastiff, a South African Gemsbok, and a Ligorian Mastodon. His previous command's banner, the 2/5, hung above the side table, signed by all the marines that served under his supervision aboard the Vindex. A mirror hanging on the wall alongside the door was emblazoned with "Look Professional...for yourself, for the Corp" on the top.
"Now...Lieutenant Odette, yes?" he began, shooting his eyes up to meet hers before returning back to the now-upturned PADD. "Your assignment here is unlike any you've had and likely will ever have again. My job is to make sure that this station runs like a top and you'll be one of my most important cogs in that task. Your record shows that you have great potential." he paused for a moment, making eye contact with Ciara. "Now, despite Mrazak's thoughts on the subject, I don't usually eat my subordinates but I have been known to chew some stompie when it's called for. As long as you don't Jy krap met ń kort stokkie aan ń groot leeu se bal we'll both be fine."
Rubbing his short beard between his fingers, Storr leaned forward and laced his fingers together under his chin. "With that out of the way, tell me a bit about yourself and what you'll be bringing to Theta."
Mrazak cut in. "She brought a commbadge which she needs to be tagged with your security protocol, Colonel. How about if we get to that?" Remembering himself, he sat back in his chair and gestured to Ciara. "Or... maybe the lady can answer your question."
Storr's eyes coldly cut over to the nettling Vulcan. He had forgotten that Mrazak was even still there (though surprised that he didn't mispronounce his name) and dismissed his comment with a wave of his hand before returning his focus to Ciara. The V'tosh Ka'tur could stew.
Ciara sat there quietly through Storr's bold introduction, the man's poise matching his figure. As the awkward and yet brief exchange with Mrazak transpired, slender fingers dug into the synthetic material of her new uniform trousers, the imprint of the large hand still echoing in her palm as a brief overpowering wave of tension swirled about her. This 'welcoming rollercoaster' was ever full of exotic twists and turns. The pause wasn't noticeable though, glancing at Mrazak with a subtle twitch of her eyes, then refocusing herself on Storr's steepled gaze.
The nauseating wave of tension that had crested, crashed and then settled in her stomach as her smile flickered back to full strength. "I'm not familiar with that particular dialect or phrase Colonel, but I believe the general intent of it transcends the language barrier." A soft rush of air exited her nose, almost a laugh. "As for myself, there's not a system I can't wrap my head around. Technology is my second language." Gray eyes locked onto the blue pair across the desk, a certain strength now being reflected in her words. "While I'm sure your welcoming AI will present a...learning opportunity, I'll be up to speed on Memory Theta's systems quickly, and if we encounter any unknown tech in the field, I'm your woman." An absent-minded nod was floated to Mrazak at the mention of field work.
"I'm loyal to the point of being tiresome, both to Starfleet and my team. No matter who may be a part of either, they're family to me. We're here to make a difference, and I will enable that in any way that I can. Not to mention, I'm not shy if combat comes my way." Her short hair then ruffled, jerking her head to point at the gorgeous whiskey decanter which had captured her eye earlier. "Plus, I can make some experienced recommendations regarding whiskey." A lopsided grin crawled back onto her face, replacing the original unsure smile. She settled back into the chair as she finished, trying to read Storr's expression.
Garlake listened and nodded as Ciara began, though his brow arched at her mention of whiskey.
"Recommendations? Do we have a connoisseur?" the Afrikaner chuckled as he stood, striding the couple steps to the bar and made three glasses with ice and a finger of whiskey. Walking back, he set two on the table and leaned back against his desk, sniffing the fine straw-yellow liquid in the remaining crystal glass. "The only distillery on the African continent and uses 100% South African grown corn...I think that Captain James Sedgwick's sons were my family's neighbors since 1872." Storr smiled. Their families did indeed have a long history together...taking a quick drink, he tried to do the math but figured that twenty generations were enough to qualify. He should give Adem a call.
"Connoisseur? Not sure I can claim that yet, but my father gave me more than leg up. He was a baker by trade but was deeply passionate about whiskey. The man could create original desserts to go with any vintage..." Trailing off, the Irish woman smiled wistfully, watching the man prepare the three glasses with deep interest.
Mrazak sniffed with practiced indifference. "My... my colony has fine grass. And dirt. The first settlers... imported... both..." He trailed off, admitting even to himself that hardly compared to a private family reserve. "At any rate, can we finally get to the security registration while everyone is still sober?"
"No. Please continue. This makes excellent fodder for any future misconduct review board meetings anyone of you has," Ferrofax's voice said from the ceiling. "Just pretend I'm not here. Continue doing shell things."
Unfurling a hand from her lap, Ciara made a motion for one of the shimmering glasses atop the desk, forgetting her sense of protocol which typically was the priority as the desire to try the insanely rare vintage surged through her.
The voice above though caused a minor flinch, fingers twitching in mid-air. 'Jealous?' she mouthed upwards at the ceiling, offering a coy smile before looking back to the men, gauging if she can sample the drink, the security clearance not on her radar.
"Don't mind him," Mrazak assured Ciara. "He is rather resentful of the shock collar he has sported for the last decade." He stood to his feet. "As fun as this has been, though, I fear I must go. Lieutenant, please see that your quarters are in order as soon as you can. There's no telling when another Theta alert will come in." He closed his grin with a wink. "Garlake," he said, turning to the colonel. "Try not to break anything." And then he was gone.
"Break anything that is even remotely structurally important, and you'll have more than him to answer too," Ferrofax added with a growl...and then the oppressive awareness shifted away.
A faint shudder rippled through her tense shoulders as the voice faded away, mentally preparing herself on some level for the mental sparring she'll eventually have to conduct with the AI at some point in the future. This drove her to stand though, sweeping up the glass in her hand, and taking a slow sip from it. Protocol be damned, it was offered.
She smiled wistfully, eyes closing, breathing in the complex aroma as the taste washed through not only her mouth but a part of her soul as well. Another shudder cascaded through her body, but this time, a happy one as she basked, awash in the glow of the flavor.
The Afrikaner simply shook his head as he watched Mrazak exit, taking the glass opposite Ciara's. "Shell things indeed," he intoned, parodying the AI. Looking up as much as he looked across the lip of his glass to the Lieutenant, Storr nodded and lifted his drink. "Sláinte "
After taking a long sip of the burning golden liquid, the Commandant smiled. It smelled of wheat fields that ran down the valleys towards to sea, was smooth like the water crashing against the Cape shore, and burned like the flames in a wild savannah brushfire. In short, a masterpiece. Hie eyes coming back in focus, they joined Lieutenant Miss' who seemed to have enjoyed her drink as much as he had.
"Your security registration was completed before you came in," he said matter-of-factly. It was more the formality, though he needed to put a face to a name and physical presence allowed him to take the measure-of-a-man, as it were. "I appreciate your visit, Lieutenant, and don't be a stranger...every Friday afternoon sees that bottle opened."
She lingered a brief moment after having consumed the last drops of the wonderful treat she had been offered, mulling over the glass as the ice rustled, unable to wipe the soft smile from her lips. Protocol resumed though, booting its way back up into her consciousness. "...Thank you, Sir. For both the speedy paperwork, as well as your time and the experience. Truly, one of a kind." She gestured with the glass towards Storr, then set it down on the desk with hardly a sound, turning to collect her case and bag.
"Have a pleasant rest of your shift Commandant, and I look forward to working together, and hopefully sharing more of those. I'll bring some of the chocolate I managed to hang on to from home next Friday, to repay your kindness." Moving her body back to face the large man, she offered a warm nod of respect, then made her way outside his office with a few powerful strides.
As the doors whisked closed behind her, she came to an abrupt halt in the hallway, staring at the bulkhead dead ahead. "That was amazing..." Mumbled the woman, absently licking her lips, then glancing down at her now very heavy phaser case. I was going to check this in, but... this hasn't been your normal welcome, and I'm exhausted. Right, bed then, for now, security later. Yawning, her pale hand is brought up to cover her mouth as she turned away from the office and made her way towards the nearest turbolift, a small sway in her step which wasn't present before now showing.
Ciara stood before what would now be her new home, the doors to her newly issued quarters. Eyes judgingly ground over the nondescript door, the hallway dead silent for the most part around her. Nothing very unique, at least out here she mused to herself. A quick series of taps on the keypad outside granted access, the doors sliding apart a bit slower than she'd like, and a slightly musty smell rolling out to match. "Right... not used for a while." The skin around her nose screwed upwards as she wiggled it, taking in the scent. "I'll fix it up, and that door. It's home. Home."
Striding forth with the last bit of her gusto and energy for the day, she crossed the threshold, lights kicking on one after another to reveal the spartan living quarters. Her bags came to rest on a slate grey standard issue table near the entryway, and she fished out a personal PADD, waking it up with a tap as it began to beep, authenticating with the station's internal network. Her boots followed, dismissed with a jerk of the wrist and flick of each foot, stumbling to the replicator for the first steps. "Computer." A sharp chirp responded.
"One Vol-au-vent, Chicken, and Mushroom." Her jacket was tugged off, unceremoniously thrown over the nearest chair as the golden pastry shimmered into life before her, steam rising from it on the plain white dish. Probably not as good as dad made back home, it never was, but it sure smelled perfect for the first meal on this new station. An eager hand snagged the dish, taking it with her to the dark blue couch in the middle of the room. Sitting with a smooth motion, she pulled her legs and bare feet beneath herself as the PADD made a happy chirp, having finished passing the needed security protocols with the station's network.
The plate with her alluring dish went down next to her, absentmindedly licking a finger which some of the fillings had dribbled on to as her attention drifted to the PADD. "Memory Theta... I've barely been here for a few hours, and I already have more and more questions about you. Hm. Let's see what you can tell me about your secrets." Keying in her personal access code, the PADD lit up with activity and Ciara melted into the couch, preparing to spend some time finishing the food and learning what she can about this new home before sleep claimed her.
