Contact Lost

Posted on 04 Oct 2024 @ 11:54pm by Captain Bane Plase

1,942 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Stranded
Location: Ops, Deep Space 9
Timeline: 3 hours after "Aflame" (First post of current mission)

ON
OPS
Deep Space Nine


Today had been a slow day. So far, only nine vessels had requested docking clearance, and another twelve had requested departure. First Lieutenant Darkma had run the numbers in his head and came up with the figure that the clearances were down by 30% today. While not unusual, as there were ebbs and flows in dockings and departures, it was rare it was this steep. It happened though. When it did, things in Ops were quite, like they were today.

Long gone were the days that people would stop and watch the wormhole open and close from the viewscreen when Starfleet had taken over administration of this Cardassian monstrosity. Long behind them were the dark days of the Dominion War, when it felt like the whole galaxy were imploding on itself. Almost equally as long ago when Bajor finally entered into the umbrella that was the Federation and became a member world. The newness, the panache, the shine, had long since faded. Now it was just routine. No longer was the Bajoran sector considered "The Wilderness," as some dingdong Starfleet Officer had once said, innocently enough, but offensive enough that it long stood the test of time. The Cardassian Sector, as it was now named (much to the chagrin of every single Bajoran, everywhere) was no longer at the fringes of Federation territory, but now a major hub and extremely strategic sector for the continual push of knowledge, exploration, understanding and diplomacy for the Federation.

Part of Darkma's responsibilities as the Strategic Operations Officer was to monitor Starfleet assets within range of the station's powerful sensor arrays, relay stations and sub-relay stations. Almost daily, this task got bigger and more complex as more relay stations were placed. That was part of what excited Darkma the most about this assignment, that it grew more complex and more interesting almost daily. It was also his responsibility to report any abnormalities to the stations First Officer. He did that about fifteen times a day, give or take, and today was no different.

Darkma thumbed at his controls, going through the processes as he normally did. Shortly ago, he had gotten into a protracted conversation about something called "bologna," apparently an Earth delicacy that Lieutenant Commander Rothe enjoyed. He had gone through all the ways that it could be prepared, each of them sounding worse that the previous to Darkma. When Darkma tried to call up this dish in the computer, it apparently wasn't spelled the way it sounded, and needed help spelling it. It was lost on Darkma why there was a 'G' in there that was silent, and that there was an 'A' where there sounded like there was a 'Y'. Maddening, he had declared, in no uncertain terms, to the Commander, whom had laughed gleefully at the Bajoran. As such, he had to start his process of his duties all over again. Not that he minded. He enjoyed the work.

Darkma went through first checking on station sensors, then station keeping (up to 1,000 kilometers out) sensors, then short-range, followed by long range scanners. He had annotated and catalogued everything carefully into the ships computer. He then went through the same process for the relay stations under their direct control, followed by the sub-relay stations, again, carefully annotating and cataloguing everything. All of this information was then deconstructed and reconstructed by the computer into a easy-to read report that would be handed off to the XO, and, presumably, to the Commanding Officer, if relevant. Lieutenant Darkma rarely talked to the Commander; she was an incredibly busy, and sharp, commander, and did not want to get in the way. He also included the aforementioned docking requests and departures, as well as both itineraries, crew compliment and what governments they were from. He also included the class of the vessels, their maximum warp speeds and potential range at 6 hours, 12 hours, 18 hours and so on through 5 full days. It was a comprehensive report, to say the least. While it was not necessary, he also catalogues vessels that would be passing through the Cardassian sector, highlighting Starfleet vessels, in the event assistance was needed in a full 360 degree field from the station.

Finally, he took note of the vessels that were assigned permanent billeting to Deep Space 9. There were six vessels in all. The first was a ship that was for use by the stations compliment, and as a quick reactionary defense force, should the need arise. The U.S.S. Defiant now sat at the Fleet Museum orbiting Athan Prime. However, one of her sister ships now sat here, the U.S.S. Majestic. The second ship was the Akira-class U.S.S. Avius. Third on his list was the Nebula-class U.S.S. Cygnus. Fourth was the Cheyenne-class U.S.S. Wisdom. Fifth assigned was the Sabre-class U.S.S. Nostradamus. Rounding out the ships assigned to the space station was the Steamrunner-class U.S.S. Merkava. None of these ships spent more than a few days docked; there was too much to do. Patrolling. Logistics. Supply runs. Explorations. Sometimes even the exciting defensive operations. Recently, the Nostradamus had engaged with a Pakled corvette, driving it off from preying on helpless freighters running supplies from deeper in the Federation to outlying worlds that were dependent on Federation assistance. Similarly, the Cygnus had encountered, and destroyed, a Crystalline Entity that was headed for a Cardassian world populated with millions.

He quickly ran through those and was about to compile his report when something caught his eye. The data trunk that each ship sent were only several minutes old, save one. That one had not reported anything in more than three hours. The data trunks came in like clockwork, unless the ship was operating in dark mode. He quickly checked the assignments of each vessel, noting that none were assigned as such. He ran a diagnostic, ensuring nothing was clogged somewhere in the system, as had been known to happen. Everything came back green across the board. He furrowed his brow, pulling up the sector map. He tapped the control to show everything in his area of responsibility, and slowly deselected catagories that did not match what he was looking for, until he had just the six vessels shown. Five of them showed roughly where he thought they should be. The sixth, the U.S.S. Cygnus, was showing close to where he thought it would be, but not exact. Also, the information aligned with his other system information, that it had not reported anything in more than three hours.

"Damn," he said aloud, though under his breath. Had it been a normal day, nobody would have heard him. Because it was so quiet, the occasional beep or chirp of a random system demanding attention from its keeper, everyone in Ops heard him.

"What is it, Lieutenant," the stations First Officer, Commander Strogaia, asked.

Without looking away from his console, he responded. "I am not sure, but if Commander Rothe hadn't distracted me, I would have caught this much earlier."

"Hey," came the voice of Lieutenant Commander Rothe from somewhere behind and above him, in feigned (and humor-laced) indignation.

The First Officer smiled. "We can assign blame later. Whatcha got for us," she asked.

"Again, I am not sure," he said. "It seems the U.S.S. Cygnus is no longer sending in data trunks with their sensor and ship status data. Could just be in a blind spot," he continued, his voice betraying how unsure he was of that option.

Strogaia thought for a moment, then gave up and called the Cygnus's orders up from her station, much closer to the center of Ops than Darkma's was. "Says here she encountered a derelict vessel and was towing it back for impounding. Huh, found isolinium on that vessel, too. Dangerous stuff. Let me check something..." she said, trailing off. By now, the situation had everyone's attention, save the station commander, who was up in her office doing commander-y things in there. The situation had not yet elevated far enough to alert her and bring her out here into the open. "Yeah, that's what I thought. That area is a bit intermittent in what we can see. I've been talking about that for a year now, I swear, that we need to get a sensor sub station out there to heighten our ability to see whats going on there."

"I'm working on it," came a distant voice, from Master Chief Petty Officer Bex, the stations material placement officer.

"So you think they are just in a dead zone and will pop out soon," Darkma asked.

Strogaia nodded. "Yeah, very likely. If they were towing a sizable vessel, they would have had to put considerable power and resources into both their tractor beam and their warp engines. They are probably taking the slow train to China."

Both Bex and Darkma said "What?" in unison.

Rothe smiled. "She means they are taking it slow and will not be moving as expected. Give them time."

"Okay," said Darkma, trailing off the word like he didn't necessarily believe it. He had no reason to feel it, but something felt off about it.

Strogaia noticed this. "Speak up, Darkma. I can see you still have something to add," she said encouragingly.

Darkma almost told her to not worry about it, and had planned on saying it, but when he opened his mouth, words that came out are not what he was thinking. "I think we should send a ship out to investigate, just to be safe. Plus, Lieutenant Ahmad still owes me three strips of latinum from our last game of dom-jot," he said, smiling lopsidedly.

Strogaia couldn't help but smile in return. "Ok, if you think we should, I trust your judgement. What ships do we have in the area that could take a look?"

Without missing a beat, Darkma looked back at his display on his console. All of the ships assigned were way out of position and would take at least four days to get to where the Cygnus was last reported. He tapped another command to see where all of the non-Starfleet assets were located. Likewise, all of those were well out of position, most even further than the previous options. Space sucked sometimes. The distances were so vast and great, that even at maximum sustained warp, things were still days, weeks, or even months away. It wasn't like being on a planet where you could take a single beaming and be on the opposite side of the planet. Well, on planets that were about the size of Bajor, at least. He then pulled up other Starfleet assets and hit the jackpot. "Commander, I have the U.S.S. Goddard that is about four hours out. They are currently headed away from the Cygnus, but if we contacted them now, we could have them there in four hours.

The First Officer shook her head. "I don't know that vessel or her Captain. Doesn't matter though, we can still call in a favor. Surely they will need us to return it someday. Rothe, open a channel to the Goddard.



OFF

A post by

Commander Strogaia, First Officer, Deep Space Nine
Lieutenant Commander Rothe, Chief Science Officer, Deep Space Nine
First Lieutenant Darkma, Strategic Operations Officer
Master Chief Petty Officer Bex, Senior Materials Placement Officer

as written by

Bane Plase, Captain
USS Cygnus, Commanding

 

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