Camp Falkirk

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Bad Echos

Posted on 14 Feb 2018 @ 4:08pm by Colonel Maxwell Richardson MD. (*) & Major General Iain MacTaryn & Colonel Graysen Sadler & Petty Officer 1st Class K`rilim Nsslano

Mission: M3 - Politico
Location: CIC
Timeline: MD 01 0240


It was eerie quiet on the deck, as only a skeleton crew manned the CIC. Unlike a starship, the facility was considered to be unimportant during night operations, as Sirius Station overhead maintained a far more diligent watch over everything. Instead, the Command Deck was mostly for oversight of the facility, and with the majority of the Marine's asleep in their bunks, the team here was maintained mostly to make sure nothing overly important could happen. This was where the Colonel found himself sitting, rather comfortably in the General's chair, eyes scanning over a PaDD. He'd spent the last week on night duty as the medical support officer for the Division, as well as the active Gamma Commander, a posting he enjoyed immensely. The night, brought a sort of peace, and calm over the facility. It was in this role that he had learned to take some time to get caught up on reports, be it the medical reports published by Starfleet Doctors in great detail, or the reports of his previous training cadets, who were eager to return their homes, and get off the frozen tundra world that was Catus.

Graysen let out a yawn as he sipped his coffee. At almost three in the morning, it wasn't generally the time that one expected the Executive Officer of a division to be up despite the heightened alert at which the sector stood at. A bare minimum of the crew stood on duty operating Falkirk making sure everything was running smoothly and no one would launch a sneak attack, which would be a feat in and of itself considering the Armada in orbit above. The Colonel passed sleepy officers and wired enlisted as he strolled through the facility mug in hand, simply taking in a part of Falkirk few got to see, the quiet hours. As Graysen got onto the turbolift headed towards the command deck to get an update before maybe trying to get some paperwork done, of which there was never a shortage of.

The ride to the command center was its usual quick and smooth affair, though the scene as the doors slid open was foreign to Sadler, there were few officers sitting and watching the consoles, the Colonel on watch command himself was sitting in the Command chair reading a PaDD. "All's quiet on the western front?" Graysen called, startling some of the junior officers as he moved towards Maxwell.

"Well aside for the small armada in space, we have a Miranda class transport moving through the edge of our A-O, it's flight logs indicate it is headed for Langley Station at a whopping Warp Two," responded the other Colonel, giving a sarcastic wave of his PaDD. "Pushing it to the limits I see. Next, we have reports of smugglers trying to approach Ferengi space, according to the Ferengi Government. So I would imagine a bad business transaction has occurred there. Lastly, Sirius Station has announced that they expect the space frame for the replacement for the de Grasse to arrive early to late next week, to which Starfleet has requested we not so heavily scrutinize their vessel." Maxwell turned the chair to face Graysen and offered a smile. "I suspect the General will have poor Mister Bradley himself combing over the ship with a fine tooth comb in an effort to find any reason to yell at them."

Graysen laughed, "Wouldn't surprise me if he did indeed try."

"What is keeping you up at this hour? Shouldn't you be in bed with the missus?" asked the slightly elder Colonel. "Lord knows if I could sleep during the night, I would happily take the opportunity." He leaned back a little and got comfy.

"Just couldn't sleep. Something in the air?" Graysen shrugged as he took a seat in the chair across the desk, "Cassie and Morgan had a good old row about something or another so both of them went to bed angry which means Morgan was stewing and a little bit fidgety. Combined with the whole alert and enough firepower in orbit to slag a planet... take your pick I guess?" He chuckled, "How'd you manage to fall into night rotation anyway?"

"Always preferred nights," replied Maxwell, picking up a cup of tea that had been placed down beside him. "I don't sleep well during them, and it's always been easy to request the night shift. When I hit that lovely point where rank gains privilege and they said I could pass it off, I politely declined. Besides, then I get to be up, for people like you Graysen." Taking a sip of his tea, he smiled, the metallic fingers on his right hand made a slight clinking sound as the tapped on the ceramic mug.

"Fair. I'd prefer to be out in the field than anything, but with rank comes privilege and desks." He sighed a bit as he sipped his coffee, "Though this field would be a bit cold at the moment so maybe a desk is a bit nicer."

A knock came from the door frame drawing the attention of the pair of Colonels, "Uhh sirs?"

"Yup?" Graysen asked as he looked over the Captain standing at the door, "Something up Captain?"

"The Devil Dog is coming back from patrolling out past the edge of the system ahead of schedule, the Commander sent a message saying they found a human on a severely damaged ship that's heading says it came from the general direction of the Imperium. The human is mum on as to what caused the damage and why shes injured. He's requesting permission to beam them down to the hospital ahead of their return."

"Granted Captain, have them beam them directly to sickbay, I will meet them down there." He stood, placing the cup aside, and then paused to add "Hold off the call for the doctors, but have a few corpsmen meet us there, let's see what is wrong with our good woman." Raising a hand, he indicated to Graysen to follow if he would like.

"Not like I have anywhere else to be." Graysen shrugged as he got back up and followed Richardson out of the room. With that, the Colonels were out the door, and onto the lift for the brief trip down to the medical lab.


A minute or two later, the pair of Colonels strode into the medical bay, Ricardson grabbing a lab coat off one of the hooks and sliding into it and readying himself for the patient. Washing his hands in the sonic cleanser near the open bay, he keyed a few commands into the terminal to register it as the bay he wanted the patient beamed into. As he wandered around the room, a few nurses descended towards him to assist with the setup.

While the nurses tended to the Colonel, a bustling group of corpsmen took care of the real work around the Infirmary. The orders had come down as to which trauma bay the patient was to arrive in, various pieces of equipment were moved and stationed accordingly. HM1 K`rilim conducted the corpsmen as if they were an orchestra, finely tuning their activities and making sure that everything that needed to be done, got done. Thankfully, the staff was well trained and hardly needed the direction of the PO. K was rather suspicious of the pair of full-birds that descended upon his Infirmary at the unkind hour but kept his thoughts to himself as the activity continued about him.

Within moments of the receiving bay having been finished with preparations, the CMO aboard the Devil Dog comm'd in, relaying that they would beaming the patient presently. With the rest of the hands, K waited the seconds of eternity until with the usual cascade of light indicating atomic generation, a rather banged up woman appeared on the biobed, as well as a young HA who attended her.

The woman, obviously a human by initial observation, appeared bedraggled and wounded, her clothing showing obvious signs of close calls with some manner of energy weapon; presumably, she was involved in a firefight of some nature. Even as they materialized, the HA and the woman were arguing back and forth, and it looked like the HA was in over their head.

"What's going on?" K moved forward from the cluster of corpsmen waiting, "What's all this then?"

A pair of green eyes whipped around to view the Petty Officer, and there was a moment where clearly some angry words were about to come forth, but she stopped. "As I was saying, that is a matter for a Captain or higher, and none of you seem to meet that. So please, leave me alone. I. Am. Fine."

"To the contrary, you have five broken ribs, a fractured ankle, enough bruising around your face to suggest you went two rounds with a very angry klingon, and," Maxwell paused looking her over, "at best guess a serious case of sleep deprivation." He handed the PaDD over to K, and offered a half sarcastic shrug. "You've clearly been through Hell miss, and yelling at our staff won't make it any better. I am Colonel Richardson, on loan to this facility by the Corps. I'm also a Doctor, and I will do my best to help you. This is Colonel Sadler, Executive Officer to Major General MacTaryn, and second in Command of this Facility. You can talk to us, it will be fine." Maxwell looked over to Graysen and motioned for him to get closer.

The woman, in turn, looked between the two Colonels, then back to K, and finally laid down, her face, while mixed shades of green, purple and pale white, became a stone pallet. "That means I am on Falkirk." It wasn't a question, and the tone of voice was cold, like something bad was about to happen. "Do you have a demolitions expert on site?" Richardson looked up between the K and Graysen. He wouldn't know, this isn't his facility, he was just momentarily here.

Graysen snorted, "This is a Marine facility with a couple thousand marines in it, I think we could find one." The Colonel took a step forward and set his cup down to look a bit more official. "Now Miss...?" He trailed off expecting the woman to fill the void with her name but was meet with just a look, taking a breath Graysen continued "Right then, The Devil Dog's commander says your runabout was in serious condition coming from within Imperium space. What may I ask were you doing?"

A stoic silence me the two Colonels, and Richardson offered only a shrug, and turned to the medical team. "Regardless of a whole lot of silence, our guest needs treatment. So, sedative please and we'll reset those ribs, shall we?" This brought about a sudden change in the girl, who twisted suddenly, going for the small opening in the group of surrounding individuals, and knocking over a nurse in the process. She was fast, but much to the surprises of the collected individuals, Maxwell was faster, and a hand like and iron band clamped around her wrist. "No you don't," he managed to snarl out, and turned to the near by Petty Officer. "I need you to hold her, I can from across the bed."

K was holding up the toppled nurse that the girl had flung, however quickly set her back on her feet before nodding to the Colonel he didn't recognize; while the lab coat certainly didn't indicate anything, his swift actions showed that he probably knew what he was talking about. His load relinquished, the Caitian moved forward quickly and grabbed hold of the woman's other arm, bending the wrist backward and pulling the attached arm straight across his torso. His other large paw he pushed against her shoulder, shoving the woman back against the bed. The fact that she moved with such celerity meant she was probably running on a fair take of adrenaline and was hardly feeling pain, but he continued to apply pressure on the bent wrist in order to gain a measure of compliance. He'd dealt with resistant patients before, and there were certainly less physical ways to hold them in place, but at the moment it was all he had to work with. Luckily, the woman was slight, and the felinoid had quite a bit of mass on her, and he was able to carefully apply both weight and leverage to manipulate her.

"You're not going anywhere, ma'am," he spoke with the practiced patience of his profession, "just relax and let us help you."

Movement just out of the corner K's eyes caught his attention, but instead, he directed a nod towards Maxwell, "Lorazepam? Five mikes? Ten maybe?"

The corpsman who had caught the brief attention of K`rilim was busily throwing together a hypo, and had given the senior HM a brief signal to ask on the dosage. K was certainly not the ranking medical staffer at the moment but had a fair guess on how the rest of the treatment would go without the sedative. Physical restraint could only do so much, and could even cause more harm than good. Ten milligrams of the benzodiazepine would probably knock the woman for quite the loop and put her down rather quickly, but five would be a bit more gentle and allow them some minor dialogue along the way.

As the hypo was pressed to the woman's skin, the dawning realization of what had happened was laid plain on her face. The drug already coursing through her veins, mixed with the rush of adrenaline, meant she had a very brief moment of clarity before she was overwhelmed and knocked off her feet. "Computer," she managed, a shrill and shrieking tone, "Protocol Quicksilver!" she screamed, even the ends of the words being slurred, as she began to slump. "Access Level-" but whatever she had meant to finish with was lost, as she went limp in the medic's arms. That would have been fine, had the computer screens in the room not gone dark as well, including the PaDDs, showing only a glossy black display. Little to the knowledge if the team present, that was not only effecting the displays in sickbay, but everything display on the station, from the consoles in people's bedrooms, to the navigational sensors on the fighter craft in orbit, and every starship in orbit. This locked out everything except the bare minimum required to keep functions going.

Maxwell approached a monitor, which scanned him, and the screen flickered to life. Instead of a medical readout, it only showed a brilliant silver OMEGA symbol, wreathed in vines. Of course the Colonel knew the symbol, a small perk. It was part of the Omega Particle clean up crew. Key keyed in a command code to the system, manual due to the nature, but was only greeted by a flashing red light and a warning that control had been restricted to Command Only. A quick tap of his combadge revealed it was also dead, something that shouldn't be happening, considering his rank and level. With no words, he motioned Sadler closer, and as he approached, he very quietly whispered, "Try your command codes."

K had just finished sorting the woman on the biobed, punching a few of the basic commands into the bed to apply a gentle field that would apply pressure to her appendages to softly restrain her. When he glanced up at the sudden silence in the compartment, the Caitian frowned, flicking an ear. He had no idea what had happened, however, wasn't so dull as to not have put it together that the woman's brief outburst had caused the apparently terminal blackout and the display of the odd symbol.

"What's going on?" his question was quietly asked, and he wasn't horribly surprised that it was rather ignored given the level of brass in the room; the other HMs were looking to him with bewildered expressions all the same.

Graysen frowned as he stared at the screen, of all the things that the Colonel had ever expected to see on a screen the Omega symbol was not one of them, and not one he was particularly interested in seeing. Typing his command codes into the terminal Graysen was indeed rewarded with an affirmative prompt. Frustratingly however, the Omega symbol simply changed colour and a message appeared upon the screen, "Information restricted to Fleet Command level. Quicksilver Directive initiated by Classified Personnel." Graysen muttered aloud as he read the text that had appeared below the symbol. "What the fuck does that even mean."

Taking a step back from the console the Colonel bit at his lip.This was not going to be good, not at all. Turning to the rather confused looking Corpsmen off to the side Graysen pointed at the Caitian, "Go wake get the General. If he asks why just tell him to look at a computer." Turning towards one of the others Graysen spoke again, "You go to the Comms division and tell them to break out to Laser comm units. They're to try and communicate with any of the ships in orbit, if they make contact come find me."

K veritably gulped at the order, staring for only the briefest of moments before snapping to, "Aye.. Aye-Aye, Sir!"

Why is it always me? the Caitian grumbled internally, dashing off towards the hatch, making way towards the corridor beyond.

"Everyone else out," commanded Maxwell, which cleared out the room pretty quick, leaving only the two Colonels standing in the room with the patient. The Doctor looked over the woman, eyes tracing her details, and frowning at the appearance. She was in rough shape, yes, but now he had a myriad of questions that needed answering and ones that were apparently locking even individuals who were meant to be able to view documentation. "Graysen, I doubt the laser is going to work," the tone coming through as distracted, the man reaching down to give a manual inspection. Without access to the medical hardware, he was going to have to do it by feel, for which the girl was lucky she was out as the inspection would be incredibly painful. He picked up an osteogenic stimulator and hummed to himself. It was an odd feeling for him, working again with so little at his disposal, and yet, so much. His time stranded without aid had taught him to be crafty. Chances are, he could reset the bones and cast it without the tools, but he wasn't wanting to put this stranger through that.

Instead, he set, and regenerated the bones, working quietly as he did, waiting for a response.

"Maybe, Maybe not. They're computer isolated for secure comms, line of sight too. If they can find a ship in orbit it should work." He replied grimly, "We have to try something anyways if the fleets locked down too? The facilities computer networks automatically with ships in orbit to update their and our computer databases with new information on the region and stuff. We just need to try and figure it out. Not to mention... if Iain showed up and we hadn't tried anything?" He left the question open as he shook his head.





Meanwhile, on the feather-edge of death..

K padded down the corridor, his carpeted decking cushioning his feet and muffling the footfalls. He was in what was essentially the upper-class level of the residential area, and to say he was unfamiliar with his environs would be an understatement. The corpsman didn't know precisely where the Old Man berthed, but he had asked along the way for some direction and was on the right track. With a finally turn around a bend in the corridor, the Caitian came at last to the hatch labeled quite succinctly 'Major General'. The HM1 mused for a moment, half expecting there to be a towering gate topped with spikes and a dark and recessed mansion seated atop a knoll; eerie music and a clap of thunder mixed with a flash of lighting would have surely set the image proper. With a shake, K remember the urgency of his orders. He hesitated again, however, his paw hovering over the door chime, What exactly do I even say to the man?

With a mental shake, the Caitian thumbed the door chime and gave the door a brief rap.

It was a long moment, but finally the door swished open to reveal a dark-haired woman in a dark blue bathrobe looking wholly disheveled, her hair tousled from the sleep she'd been trying to get until moments before. She gave the best patient smile she could manage to the Corpsman. "Good morning." she managed, looking back into the suite to see the Major General approaching, tightening the belt on a pair of combat trousers with a gray undershirt, his commbadge pinned to it. He didn't look much more put together than his wife, but he seemed awake.

He looked up at the door expecting to see Captain Rota, or Colonel Sadler, but seeing a Corpsman he stuttered to a stop. "The feck?" he asked.

"Language, Iain." his wife chided him sleepily.

He looked at her, then back to K'rilim. "What's medical got into that would lock down the data core?" he pressed urgently, trying to put his mind into gear this early in the morning and work through the possibilities.

K briefly went to attention, giving the man a quick salute, "Sir, Colonel Sadler sent me up. The Devil Dog brought in a human casualty from out on patrol. She.. she said some kind of command I didn't recognize to the computer and it locked everything down and will only show some kind of.. odd symbol. The Colonel said for you to look at a computer?"

He waited a brief moment, his tail moving slightly in agitation, "I really don't know what this is about, Sir. Everthing seems to be locked down through the 'Kirk."

MacTaryn looked strangely at him, and then walked behind his wife to a terminal on the wall and activated it with a tap. The Omega symbol came to life in return and you could almost see the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. With calm no one had ever really accused Iain of having, he turned to his wife. "The facility needs to be secured. Comm's are down, terminals are down. Find Captain Rota and tell him that my orders are thus: all personnel are confined to quarters. All MP personnel to General Quarters. Go tell him. Now." He ordered calmly but firmly.

The fact that he'd said it so simply and without any inflection immediately put Rose on her back foot, but she nodded regardless. She gave her husband a quick peck on the cheek and then hurried back in their room to dress. Meanwhile, Iain turned to the Corpsman. "Take me to this woman." he ordered.

"Aye, Aye, Sir," K gave a quick salute, "If the General will follow me to Medical.."

K turned slightly, indicating the corridor he had just come down moments before. How had he gone from mopping the Infirmary deck to now escorting the Old Man? If nothing else, the Caitian was curious about what had happened with the systems, and perhaps being the impromptu liaison would get him some sneak peaks.

As the pair marched down the corridor towards the lift, K`rilim turned slightly to glance at MacTaggert, "Sir.. what's going on?"

Iain just shook his head, both a confirmation that he wasn't sure and that if he did he couldn't say. What he did know was that the woman had triggered the Omega Protocol, which was by far the last thing he'd expected to find himself in front of and one of the few Starfleet Admiralty protocols that he was even briefed in. It was bad news all the way around, that was for sure, his only question now was: was it the detection of the particle or something more sinister? Time would tell that very soon.

The two of them rode silently in the lift down to the Infirmary and through the corridors under the Petty Officer's lead before finally stepping through the doors into the room where their patient and the Doctor's were waiting, having just been joined a moment previous by a short, very pregnant woman in white lab coat over her pajama's. She looked to the General as he stepped through.

"Good morning." he said evenly, taking everyone by surprise at his calm. "Walk me through this. Carefully." he declared, gesturing to the patient.

Looking towards the General then towards Major Mazur, Graysen frowned, "Major the room please."

"If you'd like to leave, I understand. You're not a Doctor." Minka replied tartly, in no mood for shenanigans this early in the morning even when she wasn't a hormonal mother-to-be.

"And you're not of sufficient rank for this conversation, Major." MacTaryn replied firmly, "Doctor Richardson can handle any medical emergencies. I realize that this is your Infirmary and by rights your patient. But right now, you're going to have to accept that I'm overriding all of that for the sake of this emergency protocol." he continued, uncharacteristically even-tempered.

Minka looked at the Major General as if he were a different man wearing the General's skin and felt the goosebumps on her arm raising up of their own accord. She swallowed nervously and nodded, "I'll be nearby... if you need me." she said quietly, not giving Sadler the satisfaction of a second look and instead turning and leaving, drawing her white robe about her pajama's worriedly.

Taking a deep breath as the Major left, Graysen spoke, "Approximately 30 minutes ago the Devil Dog contacted command. Myself and Colonel Richardson were in the CIC at the time and responded. The patrol ship had run into a badly damaged runabout of as far as I can tell from the scans I saw, unknown origin, with this woman aboard. She was badly injured and would not give up any information." Gesturing towards the woman he frowned, "She was uncooperative with the Corpsmen as we arrived and Maxwell took control and ordered her sedated. As she was being sedated she yelled out a command to the computer, Protocol Quicksilver. She didnt get out the authorization sequence but the facilities internal sensors must have keyed to her vocal pattern or DNA and triggered the Omega lockdown regardless."

Pointing at the blank computer screen Graysen continued, "Neither my Command level codes or Maxwell's codes will unlock the computer as they should, Protocol Quicksilver seems to be a different level of access that we aren't pertinent to."

"That doesn't make sense..." MacTaryn shook his head, moving to the terminal himself. "It's clearly Omega Protocol, but that should be cleared by o-six and above." he said, trying to activate the terminal. "Computer, unlock this terminal. Authorization: MacTaryn, Zed, Alpha, Three, Niner." he ordered. The computer chirped in affirmation, the replied succinctly. 'Authorization Invalid. Access Denied.'. Iain's chest tightened in worry, but repeated his authorization only to hear the computer once more deny him. "... God help us." he whispered quietly, about to turn to the other two.

A buzz filled the air cutting into the conversation as the three senior officers and one unconscious patient hid away behind the sealed doors. Taking a step towards the door, Graysen opened it to find a severely snow covered and soaked Marine standing on the other side. "Colonel sir, Corporal Jackson. We've achieved contact with the Alexander. The Captain has informed me that Admiral Sepandiyar has just left the ship in a shuttle and is heading here."

"Find the MP's and send them to escort the Admiral here." Iain ordered firmly. The man nodded and turned about as the Major General looked now to Sadler with a look of carefully controlled fear. "Find Major Bradley. I want every transport, fighter jet, shuttlecraft and auxiliary craft that can carry personnel primed and ready to move at a moments notice. I want all essential personnel overseeing the preparations for evacuation from the Flight Control Room. Civilian families to the front of the queue. Forget Starfleet's suggestions on how many can fit in a ship, if there's room we load up."

"General respectfully I'd sugggest we wait until the Admiral is here. If he was able to unlock the Alexander as the fact that he is currently on his way here suggests, any evacuation will become statistically much easier to coordinate as we will have full communications and computer access as he will most likely be able to unlock our computer as well. It would cut down on the chances of panic setting in and causing a stampede or event that might result in the injuries of civilians." Graysen replied with calm lacing his voice. "Even better we'd have access to transporters both within the facility and spaceborne to transport enmass to whatever ships are tasked with the evacuation."

"Get Rota preparing regardless." MacTaryn answered. "Send Mazur if you need to. I don't want to miss a step if and when this turns south."

"Sir," came the words from Maxwell, as he hummed over his patient carefully. "If you're going to order evacuation, the USS Vesta has yet to deploy. I would suggest a quick talk, after the Admiral, to discuss their assistance. Captain Minawara is a man well versed in odd protocols and weird actions, I am sure he would enjoy the chance to help." Straightening up, he looked between the two Command Officers. "The patient is stable, I should add. While I have mended the damage, I feel it should be noted, some of these look self inflicted, like she was fighting against something. When the Admiral is here, and once you two have talked, we should be okay to revive her, but she will be out of it. Our good nurses were a little over zealous with dosages."

"I'll make sure the Admiral has all hands available if we're forced to evacuated. I just want to ensure we're ready for that eventuality when it occurs, and not scrambling to figure out which way to go." MacTaryn answered, looking to the door expectantly and then over to the patient. He didn't have the slightest clue what was going on here. All he knew was that it was bad... very, very bad.






Iain MacTaryn
Commanding General
2nd Marine Division
Camp Falkirk



Graysen Sadler
Executive Officer
2nd Marine Division
Camp Falkirk



Maxwell Richardson
Liason
Camp Falkirk

 

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