Trek Among The Derelicts (Session 1)

The last thing I remember is the sound of the hull buckling. The lights flickered, and then this cold sense of dread washed over me. I was going to die at my station, staring at numbers I knew were wrong, all because Commander Vickers and the Pathfinder Project had decided to push ahead and ignore certain critical details involved in creating and traversing a geodesic fold. I must have hit my head when the ship crumpled up into a wad. I guess the fact that I’m still alive is a blessing.

(OOC: Am I hurt? Oracle: Yes, but)

I wince as I get to my feet. It’s not bad, just bruises, and a cut where my head came into contact with my console. Looking around, I try to get my bearings. Still in the Cargo Bay, still lucky enough to have breathable air. Maybe being here was the only thing that saved me. Maybe others weren’t so lucky.

Don’t think that way.

I glance around. This was supposed to be a quick jaunt to test an experimental drive modification, so there isn’t much here. One crate has tipped over, and a luxury item has fallen out of it. A Vulcan crystal sculpture.

(from prompting ChatGPT - Art from Bing)

I stare at the thing for a moment, trying to gain some sense of calm from it, but ultimately decide that one probably has to be a Vulcan for that trick to work. Instead, I run through the details of my life to make sure I’m not suffering from brain damage.

“My name is Lieutenant Commander Elara Wulfe. I am a science officer aboard the Nova class science vessel USS Hippogriff, NCC 72383. I was born in Tycho City on Luna, went to Hoshi Sato Elementary School, did secondary education while my parents were stationed on the USS Louisville and served as a cadet on the same ship until I enrolled in Starfleet Academy. Four years ago I graduated with honors and got assigned here. Four years, and it only took one day for the Pathfinder Program to screw everything up.”

Good enough, I decide, then hit my combadge. 

“This is Lieutenant Commander Wulfe to Commander Fiefield.” Nothing. “Fiefield, respond.”

That’s when I start to panic. I hit my combadge again, try calling the bridge immediately. 

(OOC: Do I get through? Oracle: Critical No)

Dead silence settles in the pause. I hit the combadge again and again, try to contact every officer I can think of, but there’s nothing, nothing. 

I am alone. Whether or not anyone else is alive, I can’t say. Nervous, I start to check my gear.

(OOC: Do I still have my tricorder? Oracle: No)

(OOC: Do I still have my phaser? Oracle: Yes, but)

When I find my tricorder, my heart sinks. The crash must have knocked it from my belt. What’s left of it is crushed under a crate, arced out and melted. My phaser is lying nearby, but an arc of electricity from my console must have hit it and drained it to almost nothing. Probably saved my life, but I’m not going to get much out of it, at least not until I can find some way to charge it.

Gathering up my phaser, I look over to the other half of the cargo bay and spot a PADD laying out on the floor. Picking it up, I start to scan through the data on it. Immediately it becomes clear that what I’m reading is probably way outside my clearance.

Who would stash this here in the cargo bay? Why? Deciding that the reason probably isn’t anything good, I switch off the PADD and decide to take it with me. Better that it’s in my hands than in the hands of whoever tried to hide it in the cargo bay.

If whoever hid it here is even still alive.

Crossing to the door out of the cargo bay, I breathe a sigh of relief when it opens. At least something around here works. The command station on the other side is empty except for a small box that’s packed with isolinear chips. 

A quick look around reveals another PADD.

Boring stuff, but why is it all here? What was someone planning on doing with all of these chips and a PADD with Starfleet first contact protocol all loaded up on it? Without a tricorder and without power to a decent terminal, there’s no way to know what’s on the chips, but thinking back to the stolen intelligence file I found, I can’t imagine it’s anything good.

Suddenly I’m wondering if this whole mess was really about the Pathfinder Program after all. Suddenly I’m wondering if Vickers’ geodesic fold mods to the warp drive might have just been a cover for something else, for something darker. The math was wrong from the beginning, and even when I told her, she ignored me. Even now, nothing adds up.

Suddenly shaking, I cross to the door out of the cargo bay command station, but it’s jammed. Without a tricorder, I’m forced to diagnose the problem manually, but I recognize the whirring noise inside the thing when I approach it, and that makes it pretty clear exactly what kind of problem I’m dealing with.

(OOC: Can I find the tools I need to fix the door in the room I’m in? Oracle: Yes)

Rummaging through the drawers at the command station, I pull a tool kit with the basics I need to pop the controls for the magnetic seals on the door. Should be an easy fix, I figure.

Roll: White Dice (Technical): 5 (+1 for tools) & 4
Door difficulty: 2 White Dice: 5 & 3

There’s a spark as I bypass the control assembly. I wince, yanking back my hand, but the locks pop and the door hisses open. Shoving the tools back into their kit, I get to my feet and take a deep breath. A cascade of sparks showers from the ceiling of the darkened corridor ahead of me. For better or worse, I’m out of the cargo bay. I’m at the edge of whatever is left of the Hippogriff, and if I’ve got any chance of surviving, I’m going to have to make my way through it. I’m going to have to deal with whatever Commander Vickers did to my home, to my crew.

Hopefully, I won’t have to rely on my half dead phaser to get me through.

Our Officer:

Lt. Commander Elara Wulfe
Red (Health): 2
Blue (Bio-Science): 3
White (Technical): 2
Green (Agility): 2
Black (Shooting): 1

PADD with Starfleet Intelligence File on it.
PADD with First Contact Protocol on it.
Box of isolinear chips
Phaser (energy low).
A standard issue tool kit


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