Memory Remains

Posted on Sat Apr 16th, 2011 @ 3:46pm by Lieutenant Xylia Lischka & Lieutenant Three of Seven

Mission: Renegades
Location: Various
Timeline: Following: 'Rounding 'Em Up'

The ship they were to explore was extremely hard to miss as the shuttle from the Arizona made its approach. What was once a cargo vessel only moments ago, the MT Hawl was now nothing more than a ghost of its former self, split straight down the center from whatever blast hit it. Bits and pieces of debris, some of which might once have been human, drifted in a cloud around the area. The sight was enough to send chills down anyone's spine by the mere knowledge of what took place there. This was a scene of horror, chaos. A scene where its victims cried out for redemption.

The scene was similar to the White Star passenger liner, the RMS Titanic, that took place way back in the early twentieth century. The only differences between then and now... There weren't nearly as many survivors with this one as there were then, and they weren't on the water.

Xylia eyed the scene before them with a frown, a shiver rolling down her spine and goosebumps rising on her flesh. She could only imagine the horror those on board faced leading up to the chaos she was now seeing first hand. Those who survived the ordeal were definitely lucky, and had some kind of higher power on their side, while others... were not. She could only hope now that their deaths would not be in vain and that the answers they were seeking would be forthcoming.

"The ship being in two pieces is definitely going to make our investigation harder, but it won't be impossible. Based on the conditions around us, it's a safe assumption that the inside is going to be hard to navigate. I know we would cover more ground if we went our separate ways, but given the circumstances, that just isn't going to happen. I'd rather take longer and have everyone return safely, than move quicker and go back minus one or more." She checked her space suit one last time to make sure that everything was still in order, then glanced toward their pilot. "Mister Price, find someplace relatively safe and take her down."

"...I'm thinking that the best place to start our search is near the engineering section!" Morgan replied "..ToS, can you bring up the schematics and cross reference them against the wreckage?" He asked the Drone.

It was a moment before the drone realized that 'ToS' referred to it. It was another moment to process an emotional response that was quite irrationally strong for what was, seemingly, a very minor turn of phrase. Noting the discomfort for later query, or perhaps exploration, the Borg merely focused on what the request had been for. "I am access the information and working to identify a location adequate to support the landing requirements of this spaceframe," Three answered simply.

The shuttle reduced it's forward momentum as Morgan began to circle the largest half of the ship. "..Lieutenant, I've added a few subroutines to that PADD next to you, it's tied into the shuttles transporter and flight control. If we get separated or too far away from the shuttle, we can activate a subroutine that will initiate a transporter sequence to put us back on board! The other program will allow me to pilot the shuttle remotely, but only at a limited range.." Morgan added. "..Lieutenant Idrani asked me to install it sometime ago, I hope we won't have a use for it though.."

"Very good, Mister Price. Lieutenant Three... do you have any idea where we might dock amongst this mess?" Xylia couldn't help but keep her eyes locked on the site before her. The destruction was incredible. Beyond anything she had ever seen in her entire Starfleet career, aside from the remains of the Temperance. The closer they got to the ship, the thicker the debris field was. She reached for the PADD Price mentioned and added it to the rest of the equipment.

"There is an exposed bay in the starboard half of the wreckage that is suit..." the drone began, pausing as the shuttlecraft shifted unexpectedly beneath it.

Morgan whistled softly as he banked the shuttle suddenly hard to the left and dived towards the largest section of the ship, avoiding sections of debris still floating around. "...Sorry about that, I saw that chunk coming at us but thought it'd miss us by a few meters! Something else must've knocked it further into our path..."

The external lights on the shuttle illuminated the hull of the ravaged engineering and star-drive section as Morgan made a fly-by of the torn sections. "....Look at that!...what could've done this much damage in so little of time?" Morgan said out loud. "...There, looks like some of the emergency bulkheads sealed off parts of the ship..hopefully they'll hold."

Xylia grabbed on to her seat when Price changed course without warning and kept from groaning. Thankfully she didn't have a weak stomach, or there would be three truly unhappy beings in the shuttle. "That's what our purpose is here, Mister Price. With luck, we'll know something soon." She kept her hazel gaze locked on the destruction laid out before them. Their encounter was surely to be something she would remember for the rest of her life. This is was the kind of thing nightmares were made of.

"..Lieutenant, would you mind just calling me Morgan? Protocol asside an all, I feel like I'm about to be put on the line whenever someone refers to me as Mister Price!..." Morgan replied "...Hang on!" was the only prior warning he gave before he sharply shook the shuttle on it's Y axis to avoid a piece of debris that shot past them. "...I'm starting to think that we may need to find a place to set down inside of this hulk! there's so much debris crashin around, I'd hate to loose our ride home because...."

"Perhaps we should merely land," Three noted, interrupting so to try and get the others back on the task at hand. Impassively, the drone seemed to weather the ride with no ill effect, owing largely to the primarily mechanical nature of its being. Comfort being irrelevant however, Three was somewhat discouraged by its co-workers tendencies to become distracted by unnecessary social interaction.

"This is as good a spot as any Lieutenant ToS,.....can you check the sensor upgrades for me? I didn't have time to do a third check before we left the Arizona," Morgan called out behind him to the Drone "....commencing landing procedures in 5.."

The same frame of reference, with the same irrational emotional reply toward it. Nodding, the drone ran a summary diagnostic on the shuttle's sensor grid. "Sensors are fully functional. The data conforms to established parameters," Three responded neatly. The drone still struggled to think what about the way in which the petty officer referred to it that bothered the former Ocampa. Or, perhaps the better question, why such a thing as trivial as a form of address would bother it.

Perhaps it was a point of individuality which Three had yet to explore. What had originally been merely a utilitarian designation for the sheer purpose of identification had instead become the drone's name, which had a greater significance in a society predicated on individual worth. Still the drone was uncertain of a way to properly address its concern, let alone determine whether the matter was worth addressing at all.

"Mister Price... Morgan... we'll worry about how I address you some other time. Right now, we have a job to do." Xylia stated matter of factly. Her main goal was to do what was requested of her and to do it in as timely a manner as possible. "We'll handle the computers first, get that information back to the Arizona, then from there we'll look to see if the cargo is there or if they did, in fact, take it. Lieutenant Three... I believe you will be the one to get the computers up, but Price and I will be there to help. All you need to do it tell us what we have to do." She wasn't even going to pretend to know what she was doing where that was concerned.

"I will have to gauge the integrity of the damaged optical network before I can make any assessment as to data recovery," the Borg noted with a simple nod.

After the shuttle was docked at a relatively safe location near the area they would need to work in, Xylia donned the helmet that would complete the space suit and made sure it was sealed properly. It was almost do or die time, and truth be told, she really hoped it was the 'do' side of things.

"Lieutenant Three... Mister Price... " Old habits did die hard. "When we board the ship, keep an eye out. I seriously doubt we're going to run in to any trouble, but one can never be too careful."

"Your sense of caution seems contrary to your chosen vocation," Three noted in a matter-of-fact tone, perhaps as close as the former Ocampa came to making a joke. Tugging on a pair of gravity boots, the drone stood. Cocking its head to the side, a series of internal circuitry was altered by the attending nanoprobes so that the drone was now communicating via its interplexing beacon as opposed to the vocal synthesizer. Price and Lischka would still be able to hear him, but he wouldn't actually be speaking. Which, by the organic definition of speech, Three never was in fact 'speaking'. But the sounds they heard would only be coming through the speakers in their helmets over the communicator frequency. Three wouldn't be making any audible noises. Primarily due to what was soon to be a total lack of oxygen. In many respects, communication in this fashion felt familiar. Borg didn't need mouths or vocal speech to communicate with one another after all.

Morgan rose from his seat and made his way to the shuttle's equipment locker and began removing the rest of his equipment, next he removed three Type 2 phaser rifles, slinging one across his shoulders and handing out the others. "..Lieutenant, I don't believe in leaving things up to chance."

Xylia closed her eyes and silently counted to three. She absolutely refused to let her nerves get the better of her, but she was human, and that was one of the things humans had to deal with. It wasn't the mission that was causing it, it was the fact of the unknown and what they would, or wouldn't, encounter once they were outside of the shuttle.

That was going to take place in a matter of seconds.

"Mister Price, if you'd be so kind as to get the door, we can be on our way." She held his PADD out toward him.

"..I'll trade you that PADD for this Type 2 and raise you one tricorder!" Morgan replied, taking the PADD from Xylia. " Morgan put his EVA suit helmet on and checked the seals to ensure that there were no leaks first before double checking the others. =^="...you're good to go Lieutenants"=^=

Morgan opened the door to the shuttle and deposited some of their equipment before waiting for the others to do likewise.

Xylia took a Type 2 phaser, knowing full well it wasn't likely she would need it. The only equipment she required was already in hand. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, fogging the visor of her helmet momentarily. "I'll go out first." Without waiting for an affirmative or negative from the two other members in their party, the woman stepped out of the shuttle and onto the remains of the MT Hawl. At the moment, she was thankful for the gravity boots on her feet, and that they picked a pretty good spot to dock. The twisted metal beneath her feet seemed to be sturdy enough. She took a few steps forward to allow room for Three and Price to join her, taking that time to look around.

Seeing the ship up close and personal was truly a sight to behold. Wires, equipment... mangled and damaged, some of which past the point of recognition. Piles of debris, slowly entering space piece by piece, were strewn about in various places. The cloud of the ships bits and pieces was thicker in this area, and as she stood there observing, she thought she saw what looked like an arm, but kept that to herself. In her line of work, seeing a body was nothing unusual, but she wasn't sure how the others would feel about it.

The small drone strode out of the shuttle, pausing at the end of the ramp only long enough to get its bearings. To say that the scene before it looked familiar would have been an understatement. Many times the Borg had encountered, or caused, destruction similar to the condition of this ship. The similarity was disquieting, but as with the discrepancy related to its name, Three would adapt. "We will need to locate a computer terminal," Three noted simply, impassively striding forward. The Borg's ocular implants swept the interior of the bay that they had landed in. Noting the optical wiring in the bulkheads, the drone began to trace a path with its eyes toward a junction. "I propose this way," the Borg announced, with a nod of its head toward a corridor.

"I'm trusting your judgment." The woman stated.

Xylia looked toward the corridor Three indicated and held her phaser at the ready. How anyone could have survived after such a terrible blow was beyond her. It was obvious that some of them had adequate time to escape given the handful of survivors now aboard the Arizona, but how they had the clarity of mind to escape to the life-pods was beyond her. Sometimes, survival... adrenaline...will, whatever you wished to call it, kicked in and everything else was moot.

She moved through the twisted metal, being mindful of where her feet fell, and pushed some wires aside that were blocking the entrance. There was no need to worry about the others, for she knew they would follow behind her.

Climbing over fallen equipment, moving fallen metal and debris from her path, the Security Office came to what could only be Engineering. She gave the partially opened door a shove and moved it out of their way, then stepped into the partially destroyed area. This is what they were looking for, and this would be where they would hopefully get the required information so it could be sent back to the Captain on board their own vessel. "Lieutenant Three... take your pick." On the wall to their left appeared to be about the only part of the department that looked to be the most intact.

Wordlessly, the small drone made its way toward the most intact console, stooping low the drone pulled off an access cover to reveal a bank of isolinear data cards. Setting the cover aside, the small Borg ran its eyes over the layout as Three examined the structure of the isolinear circuitry and tried to comprehend the purpose and logic behind its employ. Raising a hand, the drone reached up to touch the top of one of the colorful rods. Pulling it free, the Borg used its other hand to lower the zipper on its engineering coveralls and expose a section of its chest. Inverting its grip on the data rod, Three inserted the isolinear card into one of its own access ports. And just sat there, without so much as moving an inch. A minute later, the Borg removed the card and repeated the same procedure with another.

"I now have the access codes and network data for this vessel," Three voice remarked inside of their helmets. Pulling the isolinear rod free of its chest, the Borg replaced the chip into a different port. With a flicker, the monitor and console came to life as an emergency battery breathed power back into it. "Perhaps you should see about the cargo. It will take me some time to get inside the access masks and examine the information." The former Ocampa noted, rising to its feet and extended a hand outward toward the monitor until its fingers were only a centimeter or so away from the surface. Sparks danced between the two, the monitor shifting rapidly between the two as Three began assimilating the information.

"Mister Price.. you remain here with Lieutenant Three. I'm going to search for the cargo." Without another word, she made her way back out of the Engineering area and in to the twisted hallway. So far, so good. Things were running fairly smoothly thus far, and she couldn't be happier about it. With any luck, they would be on their way back to the Arizona shortly.

The further into the remains of the ship she went, the easier it was to navigate, but it was still pretty eerie being in a place that was once full of life. Xylia had no idea how many people were on board at the time of the attack, but it was certain that less than half of those people survived. How anyone could do such a thing... She stopped in mid-step, a previous conversation coming back to replay in her mind. 'No... that's not right...'

She moved forward once again, letting her thoughts run amok once again, then it dawned on her. Upon her return to the Arizona she would have to speak to the Captain anyway. It would be then that she would express her ideas to the man. One of two things would happen at that point. He would either shoot her down, or he would give it some consideration. Either way, she was going to have her say on the matter. But, for now, she planned to finish what she set out to do, and that was to find the cargo.

Within a mere matter of moments, she found herself in the cargo bay. Much to her dismay, it was.... empty. How in the hell were they getting all of this stuff so fast? She couldn't think of anywhere else cargo would be kept, and considering that the two halves of the ship were separated, that would make searching the other side pretty impossible. Taking a little time out to search a couple more areas that would be likely, the Lieutenant turned on her heel and began to make her way back toward the area the rest of their party was. Perhaps they would have better luck.

"Lieutenant Three... please, tell me you've made some progress." She made her way over to the console and began to read the information on the screen.

It was a moment before the Borg withdrew its arm or answered. Its memory buffers now becoming somewhat overwhelmed by the volume of information which Three had downloaded for analysis. Communications logs, sensor data, engineering diagnostic reports...

...letters home to family...

...deuterium cryostasis load variables...

...cargo inventory lists....

"The amount of information is... It is voluminous," Three's voice noted, sounding almost winded as the drone spoke at last. Turning to look over at the lieutenant the small Borg added, "However, I have evidence of who attacked this vessel."

"Show me." was all the woman said.

Nodding, the Borg turned back to the console and rapidly input a series of command codes into the console as it sped through a number of system firewalls and command codes. Finally, the monitor lit up with recording of footage taken from the external sensor array. "That is our answer," Three noted simply.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Three. Let's get this information transferred back to the Arizona, then we'll be on our way." Xylia stated.