((The poem is T.S. Eliot's Marina. This preserves the Enterprise, closes the rift and removes Scotty from the game.))
( Quis hic locus, quae regio, quae mundi plaga? )
( Quis hic locus, quae regio, quae mundi plaga? )
Sea Room - [Original Enterprise]
Sep. 28th, 2009 01:38 pm"Silent running."
The lighting levels faded; everything faded. Half of the bridge consoles went black. And throughout the ship, everything was powered down to essentials only, from the galley to the heads to the ship's weapons. Outside, her running lamps turned off; no port or starboard lights, no hull illumination. The Enterprise became a shadow.
Every bit of power drawn was one more bit of a signature for sensors to read. And Scotty was well aware of just how good the sensors were on Constitution-class starships. The Potemkin might still see them. The biggest draw and therefore signature was the Enterprise's warp drive, but he didn't order it shut down, just idled. A calculated risk; he wanted to be able to run, if he had to run.
Playing cat and mouse with two starships was a dicey proposition. Evenly matched adversaries, with trained crews. There were, overall, a number of Connies in service and they were stocked with the very best and brightest of Starfleet. Scotty knew better than to underestimate the Potemkin; she was, in both crew and equipment, a very fine ship.
The Enterprise was finer, of course, but she was operating without any backup, a rogue ship being commanded by a rogue engineer, and only half her usual crew compliment. Scotty wasn't the tactical genius Kirk was; what he knew of tactics came from some outside-the-box thinking, and a good number of years observing and learning from far more tactically-talented commanders.
The trick he stole now, though, wasn't learned on a starship, but at sea. He just put it into four-dimensions and accounted for having a lot more mass, speed and potential to screw it up.
Part one had been to lay a thick, hard trail at maximum warp. Scotty had asked more of the Enterprise than even he liked to; they had screamed through space at warp 9.5, all but hurtling the ship in a very specific direction.
Part two: Give the Potemkin something to do. There was a nebula of decent density in that particular direction. Scotty had barely ordered the Enterprise slowed down before they raised shields and shoved in. It wasn't a lot of fun; the sheer turbulence from that had sent more'n a few people sprawling. Once deep inside, he ordered all engines cut and allowed the Enterprise to drift right through to the other side...
...almost bow-first into a planet.
"Port side thrusters, full!" he'd barked, and thanked whatever higher power there might be that his crew didn't lock up and panic when faced with the proposition of running smack into a planet. And the Enterprise herself groaned loud and hard at being asked to essentially pivot against the forces of momentum and gravity; luckily (and tactically) they had come out of the nebula not dead-on, but offsides the dense world.
In other words, Scotty was basically tacking a starship about like he would a schooner, and it was a wee bit clever and somewhat unorthodox and definitely crazy.
He felt as much as watched as the world swung away; they hit the upper atmosphere, and before they could be either drawn down or glanced off, he ordered, "Starboard thrusters half and aft thrusters full, fire."
Thrusters were very weak; they were usually only used for maneuvering in dry dock, or at .1 impulse. They were not propulsion units so much as steering units, and he was asking an extraordinary amount of work out of them. But they held; they strained, but they held. The upside of pushing them so hard was that by the time the Potemkin caught up, any signatures they left would have dissipated into nothing.
"Orbit achieved," Osborne had said, voice shaking hard.
"Not for long," Scotty had replied. "Ready for maneuvers; tell me we're comin' up on the axis."
He could almost hear the ship and all aboard her holding their collective breaths. He also thanked whatever higher power that he'd been gifted with talented, capable people, who really wanted to get their commanding officers back badly enough to go through with all of this.
"Axis in ten... nine... eight..."
"Ready port thrusters and impulse."
"...six... five..."
"Port thrusters full, hard about!" And the Enterprise had screamed again, fighting her own momentum, gravity, physics and everything else. The stars came back bright across the viewscreen.
"...two..."
"Full impulse, one second burst, mark!"
It was a jolt, but in that second, the Enterprise essentially shoved hard off of the planet behind her, breaking free and flying on momentum and some maneuvering alone towards the next planet in the system. The crew breathed out. Scotty chanced a look at them; they were all white knuckling their consoles, and a few were close to a panic attack.
He had took a breath himself, letting it out and he was not particularly shocked at how shaky it was. "All done fer now. At ease, just let her coast."
With any luck, the lack of an easy trail would convince the Potemkin that the Enterprise was hiding in the nebula. Even if it didn't, though, they'd have a hard time finding her trail again. He fully intended to coast her across this system, firing impulse only in small bursts when they had to break orbit, using the planets to maneuver, and thrusters like sails on a ship at sea. Once they reached the other side, hopefully having shaken off the pursuit, then they could head for the rift again.
It was in the darkness, coasting between planets in a system and trying to gain some sea room that he ordered silent running.
The lighting levels faded; everything faded. Half of the bridge consoles went black. And throughout the ship, everything was powered down to essentials only, from the galley to the heads to the ship's weapons. Outside, her running lamps turned off; no port or starboard lights, no hull illumination. The Enterprise became a shadow.
Every bit of power drawn was one more bit of a signature for sensors to read. And Scotty was well aware of just how good the sensors were on Constitution-class starships. The Potemkin might still see them. The biggest draw and therefore signature was the Enterprise's warp drive, but he didn't order it shut down, just idled. A calculated risk; he wanted to be able to run, if he had to run.
Playing cat and mouse with two starships was a dicey proposition. Evenly matched adversaries, with trained crews. There were, overall, a number of Connies in service and they were stocked with the very best and brightest of Starfleet. Scotty knew better than to underestimate the Potemkin; she was, in both crew and equipment, a very fine ship.
The Enterprise was finer, of course, but she was operating without any backup, a rogue ship being commanded by a rogue engineer, and only half her usual crew compliment. Scotty wasn't the tactical genius Kirk was; what he knew of tactics came from some outside-the-box thinking, and a good number of years observing and learning from far more tactically-talented commanders.
The trick he stole now, though, wasn't learned on a starship, but at sea. He just put it into four-dimensions and accounted for having a lot more mass, speed and potential to screw it up.
Part one had been to lay a thick, hard trail at maximum warp. Scotty had asked more of the Enterprise than even he liked to; they had screamed through space at warp 9.5, all but hurtling the ship in a very specific direction.
Part two: Give the Potemkin something to do. There was a nebula of decent density in that particular direction. Scotty had barely ordered the Enterprise slowed down before they raised shields and shoved in. It wasn't a lot of fun; the sheer turbulence from that had sent more'n a few people sprawling. Once deep inside, he ordered all engines cut and allowed the Enterprise to drift right through to the other side...
...almost bow-first into a planet.
"Port side thrusters, full!" he'd barked, and thanked whatever higher power there might be that his crew didn't lock up and panic when faced with the proposition of running smack into a planet. And the Enterprise herself groaned loud and hard at being asked to essentially pivot against the forces of momentum and gravity; luckily (and tactically) they had come out of the nebula not dead-on, but offsides the dense world.
In other words, Scotty was basically tacking a starship about like he would a schooner, and it was a wee bit clever and somewhat unorthodox and definitely crazy.
He felt as much as watched as the world swung away; they hit the upper atmosphere, and before they could be either drawn down or glanced off, he ordered, "Starboard thrusters half and aft thrusters full, fire."
Thrusters were very weak; they were usually only used for maneuvering in dry dock, or at .1 impulse. They were not propulsion units so much as steering units, and he was asking an extraordinary amount of work out of them. But they held; they strained, but they held. The upside of pushing them so hard was that by the time the Potemkin caught up, any signatures they left would have dissipated into nothing.
"Orbit achieved," Osborne had said, voice shaking hard.
"Not for long," Scotty had replied. "Ready for maneuvers; tell me we're comin' up on the axis."
He could almost hear the ship and all aboard her holding their collective breaths. He also thanked whatever higher power that he'd been gifted with talented, capable people, who really wanted to get their commanding officers back badly enough to go through with all of this.
"Axis in ten... nine... eight..."
"Ready port thrusters and impulse."
"...six... five..."
"Port thrusters full, hard about!" And the Enterprise had screamed again, fighting her own momentum, gravity, physics and everything else. The stars came back bright across the viewscreen.
"...two..."
"Full impulse, one second burst, mark!"
It was a jolt, but in that second, the Enterprise essentially shoved hard off of the planet behind her, breaking free and flying on momentum and some maneuvering alone towards the next planet in the system. The crew breathed out. Scotty chanced a look at them; they were all white knuckling their consoles, and a few were close to a panic attack.
He had took a breath himself, letting it out and he was not particularly shocked at how shaky it was. "All done fer now. At ease, just let her coast."
With any luck, the lack of an easy trail would convince the Potemkin that the Enterprise was hiding in the nebula. Even if it didn't, though, they'd have a hard time finding her trail again. He fully intended to coast her across this system, firing impulse only in small bursts when they had to break orbit, using the planets to maneuver, and thrusters like sails on a ship at sea. Once they reached the other side, hopefully having shaken off the pursuit, then they could head for the rift again.
It was in the darkness, coasting between planets in a system and trying to gain some sea room that he ordered silent running.
It was as much like being a magician as it was being an engineer, and Scotty was not so sure he liked that sensation. The arcane had never appealed to him, but he didn't have enough of the equation to see how he had taken it from a seeming flight of fancy to being actual testable theory.
And he knew that he likely wouldn't until he finished it properly in his own timeline.
( Read more... )
And he knew that he likely wouldn't until he finished it properly in his own timeline.
( Read more... )
Uncertain Future - [Original Enterprise]
Aug. 30th, 2009 03:21 pmThe USS Enterprise was a flurry of renewed activity, as she became an immediate priority under Commodore Wolfe's command. Every available engineer had been recalled from shore leave, including the monotoned (and now tanned) DeSalle, and every station tech available was also in dry dock, trying to replace the great ship's external sensors. The hardest part now was waiting for the rest of the replacement parts to come; in lieu of that, Scotty put his engineers on manufacturing as much as they could in the fabrication labs aboard.
He was looking for answers, and he was starting to get them.
What worried Scotty was that he wasn't sure he liked them very much. At all.
( Read more... )
[[OOC: This does not mean I have all the answers or am magically gonna fix everything. ;-) It just means I like plots and stuff and making things make sense.]]
He was looking for answers, and he was starting to get them.
What worried Scotty was that he wasn't sure he liked them very much. At all.
( Read more... )
[[OOC: This does not mean I have all the answers or am magically gonna fix everything. ;-) It just means I like plots and stuff and making things make sense.]]
"Your crew is cursed, Lieutenant Commander."
The assessment was a stark condemnation. The problem was, Scotty couldn't quite make himself disagree with it. Commodore Wolfe was pretty much speaking the truth, if the latest reports were any indicator.
The first report was one he gave, with an internal cringe: After visiting her mother, Christine Chapel had reported back to the Enterprise and had vanished without a trace. The second report he didn't give -- they were currently harboring a rebellion-cell leader from another universe. The third report, Montana Wolfe gave: While on his reassignment to the Potemkin, Hikaru Sulu had disappeared, likewise without a trace. And Kevin Riley, their former-navigator turned engineer, had not reported back from shore leave.
( Read more... )
The assessment was a stark condemnation. The problem was, Scotty couldn't quite make himself disagree with it. Commodore Wolfe was pretty much speaking the truth, if the latest reports were any indicator.
The first report was one he gave, with an internal cringe: After visiting her mother, Christine Chapel had reported back to the Enterprise and had vanished without a trace. The second report he didn't give -- they were currently harboring a rebellion-cell leader from another universe. The third report, Montana Wolfe gave: While on his reassignment to the Potemkin, Hikaru Sulu had disappeared, likewise without a trace. And Kevin Riley, their former-navigator turned engineer, had not reported back from shore leave.
( Read more... )
Most of his crew was fairly scattered, though aside one they stayed fairly close to the Enterprise. Nurse Chapel had requested leave to go and visit her mother, and Scotty had granted it, but near everyone else stayed within the system and fairly ready at hand. Command had sent him a message, pulling him out of a restless sleep where he was dreaming of a beach somewhere, a fresh-water beach under gray skies and filtered sunlight, and Scotty started his day without even a proper cup of coffee.
There were three admirals who poked him for questions, before he'd even had his caffeine fix, and he did his best to satisfy their answers. They were going to send the requisitioned replacement parts, which was definitely a good thing. They still had made no call on a change of command, though. They'd prodded and poked until he was practically ready to leap through the monitor on them, but at least the word so far was that they hadn't decided on replacing Kirk, Spock and McCoy yet. They also requested a written clarification on a number of statements that couldn't easily be clarified.
That was another reason why Scotty didn't want to be Captain. He hated the paperwork. He had enough of it running his own division, let alone the whole ship.
Regardless, he finally got a cup of coffee and felt a little more alive when he got on the business of the day. He checked up on the repairs that had been done through the night, checked the assignments for the day, made sure to check in with his senior staff. He checked in with Montana Wolfe, who seemed to be warming up to him slightly -- she tipped him a salute with her own coffee mug when they finished their quick briefing. He checked with security about their prisoner, who had apparently behaved throughout the night.
And still with his coffee mug in hand, now on his third cup, he headed down to the brig himself.
There were three admirals who poked him for questions, before he'd even had his caffeine fix, and he did his best to satisfy their answers. They were going to send the requisitioned replacement parts, which was definitely a good thing. They still had made no call on a change of command, though. They'd prodded and poked until he was practically ready to leap through the monitor on them, but at least the word so far was that they hadn't decided on replacing Kirk, Spock and McCoy yet. They also requested a written clarification on a number of statements that couldn't easily be clarified.
That was another reason why Scotty didn't want to be Captain. He hated the paperwork. He had enough of it running his own division, let alone the whole ship.
Regardless, he finally got a cup of coffee and felt a little more alive when he got on the business of the day. He checked up on the repairs that had been done through the night, checked the assignments for the day, made sure to check in with his senior staff. He checked in with Montana Wolfe, who seemed to be warming up to him slightly -- she tipped him a salute with her own coffee mug when they finished their quick briefing. He checked with security about their prisoner, who had apparently behaved throughout the night.
And still with his coffee mug in hand, now on his third cup, he headed down to the brig himself.
Threads - [Original Enterprise]
Aug. 13th, 2009 02:32 pmThe walls of the office were the usual gray, and the rest was all shades of red and black. The typical Starfleet color scheme, and after a jaunt into a universe where it wasn't, he appreciated it more than ever.
Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott stood straight-backed at attention in front of Commodore Wolfe's desk She was a tough woman; shrewd and smart and not exactly all that fond of James Kirk or the Enterprise. Starfleet higher-ups always did seem to be of two minds about the captain and crew; on one side, those who considered Kirk the golden boy and the Enterprise the golden ship, and those who most emphatically did not.
( Montana Wolfe did not. )
Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott stood straight-backed at attention in front of Commodore Wolfe's desk She was a tough woman; shrewd and smart and not exactly all that fond of James Kirk or the Enterprise. Starfleet higher-ups always did seem to be of two minds about the captain and crew; on one side, those who considered Kirk the golden boy and the Enterprise the golden ship, and those who most emphatically did not.
( Montana Wolfe did not. )
Last Call - [Original Enterprise]
Aug. 5th, 2009 04:30 pm Where is the end of them, the fishermen sailing
Into the wind's tail, where the fog cowers?
We cannot think of a time that is oceanless
Or of an ocean not littered with wastage
Or of a future that is not liable
Like the past, to have no destination.
We have to think of them as forever bailing,
Setting and hauling, while the North East lowers
Over shallow banks unchanging and erosionless
Or drawing their money, drying sails at dockage;
Not as making a trip that will be unpayable
For a haul that will not bear examination.
( Faring Forward )
( Left Behind )
'Fare forward.
O voyagers, O seamen,
You who came to port, and you whose bodies
Will suffer the trial and judgement of the sea,
Or whatever event, this is your real destination.'
So Krishna, as when he admonished Arjuna
On the field of battle.
Not fare well,
But fare forward, voyagers.
-T.S. Eliot, Dry Salvages
Into the wind's tail, where the fog cowers?
We cannot think of a time that is oceanless
Or of an ocean not littered with wastage
Or of a future that is not liable
Like the past, to have no destination.
We have to think of them as forever bailing,
Setting and hauling, while the North East lowers
Over shallow banks unchanging and erosionless
Or drawing their money, drying sails at dockage;
Not as making a trip that will be unpayable
For a haul that will not bear examination.
( Faring Forward )
( Left Behind )
'Fare forward.
O voyagers, O seamen,
You who came to port, and you whose bodies
Will suffer the trial and judgement of the sea,
Or whatever event, this is your real destination.'
So Krishna, as when he admonished Arjuna
On the field of battle.
Not fare well,
But fare forward, voyagers.
-T.S. Eliot, Dry Salvages
What's Earned - [Original Enterprise]
Aug. 3rd, 2009 11:21 pmAfter the sheer stress of McCoy's transport to the other universe, Scotty went back to the bridge only long enough to update the log and to have Uhura send out a shipwide announcement for the crew to gather whatever messages they wanted to send to Kirk, Spock and McCoy together for transmission on the following day; then they would break loose. And once that was done, he dismissed the bridge crew and called in their usual fill-ins, leaving command of the ship to a somewhat less exhausted DeSalle.
It was the first time in... he had no idea how long, that he actually went back to his quarters for something longer than a sonic shower and a change of clothes. He trudged through the door, wistfully checked to see if he had any messages from his other home (and knew he didn't, not here in this maelstrom of temporal disasters), then dropped on his bunk face-first, staring off into the near complete darkness. He'd get up and pull his boots off in a minute...
In just a...
He never got the chance. Before ten full seconds had passed, Scotty was dead to the universe.
It was the first time in... he had no idea how long, that he actually went back to his quarters for something longer than a sonic shower and a change of clothes. He trudged through the door, wistfully checked to see if he had any messages from his other home (and knew he didn't, not here in this maelstrom of temporal disasters), then dropped on his bunk face-first, staring off into the near complete darkness. He'd get up and pull his boots off in a minute...
In just a...
He never got the chance. Before ten full seconds had passed, Scotty was dead to the universe.
Yet again, everyone on the USS Enterprise was in motion. It seemed like most of their time recently was spent in that constant state of alert. Lieutenant Uhura gathered together all of the notes, equations and formulas that had enabled the first transport bringing Scott and McCoy home, then transmitted them compressed on a tight beam subspace band to the new Enterprise, repeating the transmission as many times as it took to get it through in whole. That was inside of the first ten minutes.
The next half hour was spent putting together the strongest subspace communicator/beacon they had. Ultimately, all information that was sent by either communications or via the transporter was essentially digital; with something strong enough to lock onto, hopefully the other Scotty would be able to pull McCoy aboard. The best this Enterprise could offer at this point was to act as a subspace beacon herself so that the signal would be as strong as possible.
Then it came to getting McCoy in order. The doctor was in rough shape, though he made the best show of it that he could under the circumstances. At this point, it likely wouldn't be much of a difference if he took something along, so he went to his own quarters, as well as Spock's and Kirk's, and gathered a few of their personal items. If they did get trapped in that other universe for an extended period of time, they could at least have something of their own worlds and lives with them.
Another risk. But then again, it seemed like risk was the order of the day.
( Read more... )
[[OOC: Hopefully McCoy's usual player will forgive me for writing him here. All on you folks, now. I'll explain the box via PM, Scotty.]]
The next half hour was spent putting together the strongest subspace communicator/beacon they had. Ultimately, all information that was sent by either communications or via the transporter was essentially digital; with something strong enough to lock onto, hopefully the other Scotty would be able to pull McCoy aboard. The best this Enterprise could offer at this point was to act as a subspace beacon herself so that the signal would be as strong as possible.
Then it came to getting McCoy in order. The doctor was in rough shape, though he made the best show of it that he could under the circumstances. At this point, it likely wouldn't be much of a difference if he took something along, so he went to his own quarters, as well as Spock's and Kirk's, and gathered a few of their personal items. If they did get trapped in that other universe for an extended period of time, they could at least have something of their own worlds and lives with them.
Another risk. But then again, it seemed like risk was the order of the day.
( Read more... )
[[OOC: Hopefully McCoy's usual player will forgive me for writing him here. All on you folks, now. I'll explain the box via PM, Scotty.]]
Hailing Frequencies
Aug. 2nd, 2009 04:22 pmOr: How to make poor Captain Kirk (the new, that is) go batshit from stress.
After some time -- still he didn't know how long -- Lieutenant Uhura reported back to the bridge in her coveralls. She looked tired and disheveled (didn't they all?) but there was a gleam in her eyes and he knew right away what it meant.
"All done, then?" Scott asked, relieved to have something to distract him from the tracks of his own troubled thoughts.
"Yes, sir, we are," she replied, repressing a smile. "You know, your division likes me quite a bit. I might just apply for your job."
"That mean I'll have yers? Aye, that'd go down well." He grinned back. "Startin' four or five intragalactic wars because I accidentally insulted someone's mum, nevermind the mess I'd make just with the standard-speakin' civilizations."
"Mm. You may have a point." She sat down in her seat, turning towards the panel. "Ready at the order."
The grin faded and Scotty took a breath, nodded to himself and composing the message in his mind. "Go ahead an' launch the probes."
It took about ten minutes (relatively) for the sensor probes, now acting as something more akin to subspace relays, to align themselves along the temporal band. But even though they had no proof that the message would be received, there was only about fifty percent signal degredation between the first of the string of ten and the last. A lot, but still better than he expected it to be, given what they were facing.
"On your mark, sir," Uhura said, as the entire bridge crew sat still and waited tensely.
"Go ahead," Scotty said, then squared up automatically in front of the Captain's chair, even though visual was out of the question.
He took one more breath, then tossed out the message he sure as Hell hoped would be received:
"This is Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, in temporary command of the USS Enterprise, hailin' the Enterprise we're currently tied to through the temporal anomaly with a message for Captain Kirk. Our Enterprise is currently runnin' near sensor blind, and repairs cannot be completed without an estimated two months in dry dock at the nearest starbase with facilities. We have discovered a way to break the temporal band tyin' these ships together and will do so within the next forty-eight hours if this message is not received. The situation with Doctor McCoy is of a potentially life-threatenin' nature, and we are seekin' orders on how to handle that. Transporters here are non-operational and will be until repairs are conducted. Any transport'll have to come from that side, and risks are extremely high. We'll stand by long as we can awaitin' orders. Scott out."
And now all they could do was sit back, and pray for the reply.
After some time -- still he didn't know how long -- Lieutenant Uhura reported back to the bridge in her coveralls. She looked tired and disheveled (didn't they all?) but there was a gleam in her eyes and he knew right away what it meant.
"All done, then?" Scott asked, relieved to have something to distract him from the tracks of his own troubled thoughts.
"Yes, sir, we are," she replied, repressing a smile. "You know, your division likes me quite a bit. I might just apply for your job."
"That mean I'll have yers? Aye, that'd go down well." He grinned back. "Startin' four or five intragalactic wars because I accidentally insulted someone's mum, nevermind the mess I'd make just with the standard-speakin' civilizations."
"Mm. You may have a point." She sat down in her seat, turning towards the panel. "Ready at the order."
The grin faded and Scotty took a breath, nodded to himself and composing the message in his mind. "Go ahead an' launch the probes."
It took about ten minutes (relatively) for the sensor probes, now acting as something more akin to subspace relays, to align themselves along the temporal band. But even though they had no proof that the message would be received, there was only about fifty percent signal degredation between the first of the string of ten and the last. A lot, but still better than he expected it to be, given what they were facing.
"On your mark, sir," Uhura said, as the entire bridge crew sat still and waited tensely.
"Go ahead," Scotty said, then squared up automatically in front of the Captain's chair, even though visual was out of the question.
He took one more breath, then tossed out the message he sure as Hell hoped would be received:
"This is Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, in temporary command of the USS Enterprise, hailin' the Enterprise we're currently tied to through the temporal anomaly with a message for Captain Kirk. Our Enterprise is currently runnin' near sensor blind, and repairs cannot be completed without an estimated two months in dry dock at the nearest starbase with facilities. We have discovered a way to break the temporal band tyin' these ships together and will do so within the next forty-eight hours if this message is not received. The situation with Doctor McCoy is of a potentially life-threatenin' nature, and we are seekin' orders on how to handle that. Transporters here are non-operational and will be until repairs are conducted. Any transport'll have to come from that side, and risks are extremely high. We'll stand by long as we can awaitin' orders. Scott out."
And now all they could do was sit back, and pray for the reply.
The sea howl
And the sea yelp, are different voices
Often together heard: the whine in the rigging,
The menace and caress of wave that breaks on water,
The distant rote in the granite teeth,
And the wailing warning from the approaching headland
Are all sea voices, and the heaving groaner
Rounded homewards, and the seagull:
And under the oppression of the silent fog
The tolling bell
Measures time not our time, rung by the unhurried
Ground swell, a time
Older than the time of chronometers, older
Than time counted by anxious worried women
Lying awake, calculating the future,
Trying to unweave, unwind, unravel
And piece together the past and the future,
Between midnight and dawn, when the past is all deception,
The future futureless, before the morning watch
When time stops and time is never ending;
And the ground swell, that is and was from the beginning,
Clangs
The bell.
-T.S. Eliot, The Dry Salvages
( Read more... )
And the sea yelp, are different voices
Often together heard: the whine in the rigging,
The menace and caress of wave that breaks on water,
The distant rote in the granite teeth,
And the wailing warning from the approaching headland
Are all sea voices, and the heaving groaner
Rounded homewards, and the seagull:
And under the oppression of the silent fog
The tolling bell
Measures time not our time, rung by the unhurried
Ground swell, a time
Older than the time of chronometers, older
Than time counted by anxious worried women
Lying awake, calculating the future,
Trying to unweave, unwind, unravel
And piece together the past and the future,
Between midnight and dawn, when the past is all deception,
The future futureless, before the morning watch
When time stops and time is never ending;
And the ground swell, that is and was from the beginning,
Clangs
The bell.
-T.S. Eliot, The Dry Salvages
( Read more... )
There were a number of bad ways to come back to the land of the living. One was in enemy hands. Another was horribly hung-over. A third was in the middle of a space battle. Then there were those times when it felt like you'd been in all three of those situations at once.
This was one of those times.
Scott's least favorite place to wake up was in sickbay. He didn't like doctors, for one, though he made an admitted exception for ones he knew personally fairly well. He hated the smell. And, finally, sickbay was also the quietest place on the ship for any number of medical reasons, and therefore he could only barely hear the usual harmonies and melodies that made up the Enterprise's vital signs.
Right now, his biggest concern was the really bloody bad headache he had. He immediately curled his arms over his head, instinctively, though he didn't groan outloud. Luckily, by now, mostly everyone knew better than to go pester him when he was suffering, unless it was somehow a critical situation, so it wasn't until the pounding pain receded and he was able to pry his eyes open that Chapel spoke up, "Want something for it?"
"Aye," Scotty replied, sitting up and rubbing at his temples. "And a status report."
The news wasn't too good. Well, all right, the news was bad. Really bad. The Enterprise was near blind; the damage control teams had managed to restore main viewers and only partial power to navigation sensors, but mostly she was blind, deaf and almost helpless to do anything about that. Engines were fine. Weapons were fine. Even actual controls were all right, but what good were those without sensors to help humanoid eyes to direct them?
It didn't help matters that Scotty's memory was a bit choppy, when it came to his foray into the other universe. He remembered pieces, and he remembered the more analytical aspects, but mostly he only had impressions left over. It was an uncomfortable gap to work from, though at least his tricorder had survived and going through the files on it was enough for him to piece some things together.
McCoy had made sure to take care of everyone in sickbay, but then had retreated to his quarters and put a privacy notice up -- emergency contact only. That was worrisome, and Scott's records in his tricorder didn't specify what was going wrong; what few notes he had put down about the situation were confusing at best. Something about Spock and Kirk, something about a bonding.
He wasn't an expert on Vulcan culture, and only knew the basics. So, feeling a mite uncomfortable, he turned to Uhura's expertise.
What she replied with, carefully worded so as not to make too many assumptions, was... well, it was enough to cause some anxiety. If she was on the right track, then likely McCoy's life was in danger without Kirk and Spock around, and while Scott was sure this was going to be an ongoing issue as to their effectiveness in their job, he wasn't about to go condemning them to death.
A rock and a hard place -- they couldn't hope to retrieve the others without repairing their sensor arrays. They couldn't hope to repair those without breaking free and finding the nearest dry dock. They couldn't hope to contact the other Enterprise if they did break free. And finally, if they did, would McCoy even survive it?
"Lieutenant... get yer people and however many of mine ye need on repairin' our subspace networks," he finally ordered, prowling the upper ring of the bridge in agitation. "I need to get a signal to that ship. It doesna even need t'be long. Just... we need to do somethin', and as fast as we can. Cannibalize whatever ye need, we'll jury rig whatever we have to."
"Yes, sir." Uhura nodded, worry in her eyes, then went to gather her staff.
Scotty looked at the viewscreen, a long moment of tense contemplation, then went back to pacing.
This was one of those times.
Scott's least favorite place to wake up was in sickbay. He didn't like doctors, for one, though he made an admitted exception for ones he knew personally fairly well. He hated the smell. And, finally, sickbay was also the quietest place on the ship for any number of medical reasons, and therefore he could only barely hear the usual harmonies and melodies that made up the Enterprise's vital signs.
Right now, his biggest concern was the really bloody bad headache he had. He immediately curled his arms over his head, instinctively, though he didn't groan outloud. Luckily, by now, mostly everyone knew better than to go pester him when he was suffering, unless it was somehow a critical situation, so it wasn't until the pounding pain receded and he was able to pry his eyes open that Chapel spoke up, "Want something for it?"
"Aye," Scotty replied, sitting up and rubbing at his temples. "And a status report."
The news wasn't too good. Well, all right, the news was bad. Really bad. The Enterprise was near blind; the damage control teams had managed to restore main viewers and only partial power to navigation sensors, but mostly she was blind, deaf and almost helpless to do anything about that. Engines were fine. Weapons were fine. Even actual controls were all right, but what good were those without sensors to help humanoid eyes to direct them?
It didn't help matters that Scotty's memory was a bit choppy, when it came to his foray into the other universe. He remembered pieces, and he remembered the more analytical aspects, but mostly he only had impressions left over. It was an uncomfortable gap to work from, though at least his tricorder had survived and going through the files on it was enough for him to piece some things together.
McCoy had made sure to take care of everyone in sickbay, but then had retreated to his quarters and put a privacy notice up -- emergency contact only. That was worrisome, and Scott's records in his tricorder didn't specify what was going wrong; what few notes he had put down about the situation were confusing at best. Something about Spock and Kirk, something about a bonding.
He wasn't an expert on Vulcan culture, and only knew the basics. So, feeling a mite uncomfortable, he turned to Uhura's expertise.
What she replied with, carefully worded so as not to make too many assumptions, was... well, it was enough to cause some anxiety. If she was on the right track, then likely McCoy's life was in danger without Kirk and Spock around, and while Scott was sure this was going to be an ongoing issue as to their effectiveness in their job, he wasn't about to go condemning them to death.
A rock and a hard place -- they couldn't hope to retrieve the others without repairing their sensor arrays. They couldn't hope to repair those without breaking free and finding the nearest dry dock. They couldn't hope to contact the other Enterprise if they did break free. And finally, if they did, would McCoy even survive it?
"Lieutenant... get yer people and however many of mine ye need on repairin' our subspace networks," he finally ordered, prowling the upper ring of the bridge in agitation. "I need to get a signal to that ship. It doesna even need t'be long. Just... we need to do somethin', and as fast as we can. Cannibalize whatever ye need, we'll jury rig whatever we have to."
"Yes, sir." Uhura nodded, worry in her eyes, then went to gather her staff.
Scotty looked at the viewscreen, a long moment of tense contemplation, then went back to pacing.
Going Home...
Jul. 30th, 2009 07:53 pmUSS Enterprise - In Temporal Interphase
The problem with the crew of the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701, was that they were a loyal lot. Very loyal. This, of course, was not a surprise most of the time, and all of them were certainly capable, trained, professional officers. But when it came down to it, it could be little wonder why they would consider it more important to retrieve not one, not two, but four senior officers from some alternate universe than it was to break free.
Part of this, of course, was that they knew if they reported to the nearest starbase, some admiral pushing papers would assign them a new command crew. And case precedent for the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701, was that they didn't do well when their usual command staff was replaced. Needless to say, they wanted to avoid this at all costs.
( Read more... )
[[OOC: Sending TOS!McCoy and TOS!Scotty home. More to come, no doubts.]]
The problem with the crew of the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701, was that they were a loyal lot. Very loyal. This, of course, was not a surprise most of the time, and all of them were certainly capable, trained, professional officers. But when it came down to it, it could be little wonder why they would consider it more important to retrieve not one, not two, but four senior officers from some alternate universe than it was to break free.
Part of this, of course, was that they knew if they reported to the nearest starbase, some admiral pushing papers would assign them a new command crew. And case precedent for the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701, was that they didn't do well when their usual command staff was replaced. Needless to say, they wanted to avoid this at all costs.
( Read more... )
[[OOC: Sending TOS!McCoy and TOS!Scotty home. More to come, no doubts.]]
Rescue Operations
Jul. 26th, 2009 12:12 pmOr: How to Time Things in the Most Inconvenient Manner Possible
[[OOC:![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sehlatbear and I were tentatively toying around with this idea last night; it's a way to bridge the perception gaps between two ships, two crews and one ship with displaced crew, all while adding all sorts of potential drama (or humor!) into the situation.]]
( Read more... )
When it was all said and done, the science department had orders to continue working on the problem, Sulu and Uhura were in command -- Sulu as acting-Captain, Uhura as his XO, given seniority -- and DeSalle was given a long and expected tirade from his Chief Engineer to take care of the Enterprise in his absense, and that whenever he got back, she'd better damn well be in Bristol form. It was a somewhat subdued tirade, though. More ritual than actual.
Scotty set the transporter controls himself, on a short delay tied to sensors to initiate the beam at the next recordable moment of stability. He didn't like the notion of becoming a non-entity himself. Over his shoulder was a tricorder, and on his belt was a phaser -- regardless, not particularly wanting to become a target for their security, he kept his hands out to his sides and prepared.
He took one more breath as he felt the transporter beam take hold, steeling himself and putting on his best 'in charge' persona; it was a longer transport than he was used to, unnervingly so, but he lived to see the other side of it.
And when he rematerialized, he knew beyond any doubt instantly that he wasn't on his Enterprise anymore.
[[OOC: Do whatever with this you like; all I ask is that no one kills him. Because, well, that would suck. Gap reconciled. Tag, you're it!]]
[[OOC:
sehlatbear and I were tentatively toying around with this idea last night; it's a way to bridge the perception gaps between two ships, two crews and one ship with displaced crew, all while adding all sorts of potential drama (or humor!) into the situation.]]( Read more... )
When it was all said and done, the science department had orders to continue working on the problem, Sulu and Uhura were in command -- Sulu as acting-Captain, Uhura as his XO, given seniority -- and DeSalle was given a long and expected tirade from his Chief Engineer to take care of the Enterprise in his absense, and that whenever he got back, she'd better damn well be in Bristol form. It was a somewhat subdued tirade, though. More ritual than actual.
Scotty set the transporter controls himself, on a short delay tied to sensors to initiate the beam at the next recordable moment of stability. He didn't like the notion of becoming a non-entity himself. Over his shoulder was a tricorder, and on his belt was a phaser -- regardless, not particularly wanting to become a target for their security, he kept his hands out to his sides and prepared.
He took one more breath as he felt the transporter beam take hold, steeling himself and putting on his best 'in charge' persona; it was a longer transport than he was used to, unnervingly so, but he lived to see the other side of it.
And when he rematerialized, he knew beyond any doubt instantly that he wasn't on his Enterprise anymore.
[[OOC: Do whatever with this you like; all I ask is that no one kills him. Because, well, that would suck. Gap reconciled. Tag, you're it!]]
Engineer's Personal Log: Stardate... tea
Jul. 25th, 2009 08:38 pmThere's not enough tea in the world, either.
I'd track down McCoy and see if he wanted to knock back a few, but at this rate, I'm half expectin' the universe to just blank out around me. Haven't heard a thing from the Captain or Mister Spock in quite awhile, and that's more'n a bit worrisome. The most I managed to figure out today was that the transporters on the other Enterprise must have similar safety protocols to our own, but ye can hardly call that a good day's work.
There's not a whole lot about this mess that makes sense, but o' course, it's not the first time we've had such things happen. This just happens to be more unnerving than the usual; even that jaunt into the parallel universe where the lot of us were aboard a ship of assassins and murderers was just a brief thing, not prolonged, and our biggest goal then was gettin' home.
Anyway, though, I've got the science division tryin' to figure things out. They're not my department, but if Spock's in a bad way, and the Captain's... busy, then it falls on us to go lookin' for solutions. If nothin' else, it'll give 'em somethin' to focus themselves on in that department.
Wish I could claim the same for myself.
End recording and save.
I'd track down McCoy and see if he wanted to knock back a few, but at this rate, I'm half expectin' the universe to just blank out around me. Haven't heard a thing from the Captain or Mister Spock in quite awhile, and that's more'n a bit worrisome. The most I managed to figure out today was that the transporters on the other Enterprise must have similar safety protocols to our own, but ye can hardly call that a good day's work.
There's not a whole lot about this mess that makes sense, but o' course, it's not the first time we've had such things happen. This just happens to be more unnerving than the usual; even that jaunt into the parallel universe where the lot of us were aboard a ship of assassins and murderers was just a brief thing, not prolonged, and our biggest goal then was gettin' home.
Anyway, though, I've got the science division tryin' to figure things out. They're not my department, but if Spock's in a bad way, and the Captain's... busy, then it falls on us to go lookin' for solutions. If nothin' else, it'll give 'em somethin' to focus themselves on in that department.
Wish I could claim the same for myself.
End recording and save.
There's not enough coffee in the universe right now.
( Read more... )
((OOC: Has anyone come to a consensus on whether there are two ships and two crews, or one ship with a lot of displaced people aboard? Just wondering. I'm cool either way.))
( Read more... )
((OOC: Has anyone come to a consensus on whether there are two ships and two crews, or one ship with a lot of displaced people aboard? Just wondering. I'm cool either way.))
Wrote up two technicians for reporting late today. I figure maybe they drank too much last night or somethin' else, but that sort o' behavior still isn't acceptable regardless o' what universe we're in.
Told the captain that I'd request leave in a couple o' days; o' course he wouldn't put this ship in danger to satisfy his needs, that'd just be damned irresponsible, and we know Captain Kirk always puts his ship and crew first. I'm sure that even as I record this, he's plannin' a way to get us extricated from this parallel universe here. I don't know why I ever doubted him; he's never let us down before, right?
I suppose I'd better go and check on Engineering, in case there are any other lads or lassies reportin' for duty lookin' like a bunch of zombies. Last thing anyone needs are engineers who aren't payin' attention on duty; that can get a ship destroyed and a crew killed.
End recording.
Told the captain that I'd request leave in a couple o' days; o' course he wouldn't put this ship in danger to satisfy his needs, that'd just be damned irresponsible, and we know Captain Kirk always puts his ship and crew first. I'm sure that even as I record this, he's plannin' a way to get us extricated from this parallel universe here. I don't know why I ever doubted him; he's never let us down before, right?
I suppose I'd better go and check on Engineering, in case there are any other lads or lassies reportin' for duty lookin' like a bunch of zombies. Last thing anyone needs are engineers who aren't payin' attention on duty; that can get a ship destroyed and a crew killed.
End recording.
Engineer's log: Stardate, still unknown
Jul. 23rd, 2009 01:44 pmApparently, Mister Spock has been... infected? Affected? ...by whatever the Hell's goin' on with this parallel universe. He was runnin' a bit late for his shift; well, admittedly, late for Spock means he's actually right on time like a human would be, but after near fifteen years o' servin' on the same ship, I can confidently say that for him, he was runnin' late. And seemed a wee bit distracted, too.
Doctor McCoy thinks the captain might have some kind o' virus.Personally, I think his ego's gotten out o' hand.
Computer, erase that last sentence. Continue recording.
If it is some sort o' virus, I'm not sure what I could do about it myself. I suppose that leaves me hopin' the good Doctor can figure it out, and hopefully not fall to the same infection, if that is the case. It seems to be related to how much time one spends directly interacting with this parallel universe, and o' course, so far the Captain is most definitely interacting. So's Spock.
I suppose all I can concentrate on for certain is gettin' us home. But given that even the data logs show no definite shift in universes, it'll take some real detective work to figure it out. Still, here's hopin'.
End recording.
Doctor McCoy thinks the captain might have some kind o' virus.
Computer, erase that last sentence. Continue recording.
If it is some sort o' virus, I'm not sure what I could do about it myself. I suppose that leaves me hopin' the good Doctor can figure it out, and hopefully not fall to the same infection, if that is the case. It seems to be related to how much time one spends directly interacting with this parallel universe, and o' course, so far the Captain is most definitely interacting. So's Spock.
I suppose all I can concentrate on for certain is gettin' us home. But given that even the data logs show no definite shift in universes, it'll take some real detective work to figure it out. Still, here's hopin'.
End recording.
