Dystopia: The Fallen Angels

[Dreamer128]

OOC: Note that each vessel only has one Chief Engineer

(The Bridge)

Jack regarded the Chief with pity. Here stood a man that was totally unfit for Command. Unfortunately, so was everyone else. ,,You might have noticed, Chief. But we're a few Command Officers short'', he said as he gestured at the various empty seats. ,,The Captain is as crazy as a Transcendant and the COO fancies herself the female Van Gogh.'' He wondered what would be worse. Having this hermit take charge, or taking the risk that his name would pop up next. He wasn't completely sure where the post of Senior Navigator was located inside the Command Structure. Presumably, it was somewhere at the bottom of the pyramid, since he had about the same security clearance as the cook.

,,All right, Chief. If you don't feel up to the task, you can ask the doctor to declare you unfit for Command. I'm sure the good man can work something out. After that, perhaps you can head over the Science Department and oversee the decoding of the signal.'' Jack smiled and glared at the Captains Chair. ,,Or you can take a seat and ensure I don't have to interview another dozen people for the post.''
Comm-Liason O' Hara threw the two men an inpatient look. ,,Sirs, the asteroid is about to move out of range. Your orders?''

Jack frowned. He had to admit that Messman had a point when it came to the asteroid. None of the scans indicated the thing was a man-made threat, but there were stranger things out there than cunningly disguised flying bombs, propaganda-devices or illegal radiostations. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell a comm-unit was doing on an asteroid in the galactic outback.

[Dreamer128]

(Sickbay)

,,Ah.. Doctor Wolf. Perhaps the sorcerous ways of the Xeno-Medici will provide an answer to our questions’’, scoffed the CMO. It had always been obvious that Doctor Abraham considered the implementation of alien plantlife in modern medicine to be a new form of herbal medicine, but the growing stress had effectively axed his ability to put his grievances in perspective. In his eyes, everything that didn’t resolve the ‘VS-crisis’ (as he had lovingly dubbed it), was a needless distraction and thus: a part of the problem. Nevertheless, he hands you a number of datapads before making his way to the door. He leaves without saying another word. The, not very encouraging, information on the Pads make it clear that the CMO had run every perceivable test on his VR-patients. As a result: you now know everything from their blood pressure and heartbeat to their brainwaves. You soon realise that you won't have the time for too many tests of your own. Most of the doctors are currently off-duty or running simulations at the Research Department, which means that you are expected to interview the crewmen that are scheduled to recieve their psychological check-up.

[Legolas]

"Nevermind the asteroid," muttered Ricor, wishing he'd thought of this before. A bit of reprogramming would have kept him down in engineering with not a care in the universe. It made no sense in any case; unlike Hamilton - Sophian flu? Not a chance - he'd no insight into the other disciplines. It was a military mission, so put a sergeant in charge. Or a flyer at least. Engineers were there for support, to keep the eight or more decades old craft working well enough for others to benefit. Abraham meanwhile seemed to get away without trouble. Probably declared himself unfit.
And that was another cause for worry. There were statistics, of course, but to lose both the captain and his aide in just days smelled rotten. Might be the CMO, might be someone or something else, but he felt uneasy lining up for an acute case of void syndrome.

He barked a laugh. "All right then, he said, already identifying the first symptom: suicidal behaviour. But someone had to engage in damage control, and that was something he did understand.
"Comm-Liason, get Abraham and find out when the captain and COO can return to their posts. Senior Navigator, I need to know how far we are from the nearest Federation planet, the Wayfarer and that other place we were supplying."

He ambled over to the big chair, standing behind it rather than sitting down. He considered accessing the high level files with mission data, but soon changed his mind. Not something he wanted to make his business.

[Dreamer128]

(Barracks)

Deep Space Operations had never been popular among the military personel, since the only enemies to fight were the constant boredom and the occasional overgrown fauna on certain fringeworlds. In the meanwhile, during the dreary eight-hour shifts, there was little to do but count to 28.800. Today, the duty roster held few surprises. ,,Muh’tabi and Jones. Security detail on deck 1. Avery is currently undergoing a check-up at Medical and Aldera, you’re the standby pilot for Cicero-1’’, said the sergeant.
,,Consider yourself lucky. Should the Arioch be boarded by ‘little green men’, you can be the first to jump ship’’, joked Corporal Muh’tabi. You realise that you probably did get lucky, since the alternative, being on security detail, meant keeping quiet and spending the day looking for new spots on the wall to stare at. Although sign language did allow for some small-talk. Shuttle detail was generally considered to be a ‘fun’ job, since one could spend the day monitoring the internal comm-traffic.

[Dreamer128]

(The Bridge)

,,The closest Federation outpost is a small monitoring station near The Outlands. In fact, we are scheduled to dock there in six days. There are no Federation planets nearby, although there is a small inhabited moon in the Kamonyo-system, at about two days flight. It appears to be registered to the Copernicus Directorate.'', Senior Navigator Johnson said, after reviewing the astral charts. Comm-Liason Cathy o' Hara scowled and walked to the Command Station. ,,Sir, I can't seem to raise doctor Abraham on the comm'', she whispered. ,,According to the computer, he left Medical a few minutes ago, and he isn't answering his portable comm-unit.''

[Legolas]

The acting captain of the TF-Arioch pulled a dirty rag from a pocket with practised ease and wiped his hands.
"Keep trying," he told the Comm-Liason. "Maybe some helper of his knows."

Fresh to his role, he already felt unpleasantly isolated. As chief engineer he spent hours chasing after errant crewmen and monitoring their work on the floor, stepping in here and there to offer aid, expertise or a comment. Here, inexperience aside, all he could do was wait, build up to a fume and trust others told him what he needed to hear. He was determined not to linger overlong.

Ricor turned to the navigator.
"We can't fly the Line without command. More ships may've vanished this way, crews going directionless and insane. If they don't recover soon I'm aborting this mission, and the only question is if I do before or after we supply that station. How much time do we win heading straight for the Wayfarer?"

[dplax]

Philbert Sigismund Wolf

"Professor," he whispered underneath his breath upon being referred to as Doctor, but did not want a conflict with his superior officer, so put on his best smile while the CMO continued. Philbert took the datapads but scanned the contents only with feigned interest and threw them down on his desk as soon as the CMO had left.

He longed for his research laboratories and solid ground underneath his feet. This voyage had so far provided nothing remotely interesting to him from a scientific point of view. The Void Syndrome had been interesting in the beginning, but after a couple cases there was nothing new to see and a cure was still far away. Only mildly interested, Wolf uploaded the raw data from the datapads to his computer and ran a few simulations, the results of which he uploaded to one of the datapads and placed the pad on the CMO's desk.

He then gazed over his daily to-do list. Not much before lunch, just two routine psychological check-ups. Senior Navigator Johnson was the first on the list. "Message originating from Pro-" he cleared his throat before continuing, "Doctor Wolf to the attention of Navigator Johnson," he said once he had opened a direct comm-line to the bridge. "Routine psychological check. Report to sickbay." Wolf had never been strong on respecting communication protocol.

Philbert already wished that the morning were over. He was definitely not looking forward to such vulgar medical work. Even studying the boring results of the VS tests seemed more interesting in retrospect.

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Meanwhile Uytio read from her book. And read a little more. Finally, she put it down with a sigh. It had been less than ten minutes but she could not seem to stay focused.

Professor Wolf's work was always so interesting, despite just how incredibly dry he was.. 'Cognitive functions of silicium based life-forms'* was interesting...

She shook her head; if her concentration was slipping, perhaps it would be best to get her check-up early. It had never slipped like this before.

And so, still carrying her book in hand, she headed over to the sickbay.

Seeing that the Professor was busy, she hesitated and looked around for his assistant.

---
OOC: thanks to Dplax for his character's book title =)

[Dreamer128]

(Bridge)

"Routine psychological check. Report to sickbay", echoed the voice from his Comm-Unit. Jack groaned. Such things always came at the worst of times. ,,Johnson to sickbay. Please reschedule check-up. We're having a bit of an emergency up here.'' He turned to face his console and requested a number of navigational charts. ,,Sir, Wayfarer 6 is six weeks and two days away at maximum speed'', he said - after running a simulation. ,,Turning the ship around now will win us thirteen days, but will leave the station without supplies.''
----------------------------------------
Comm-Liason Cathy o' Hara frowned. None of the Section Heads had seen the CMO, and she didn't have the clearence to use the internal sensors to find his Comm-Unit. Still, it was impossible to vanish from a ship of this size. ,,Sir, the doctor appears to be missing. Do you want me to get Security to track him down?'', she enquired.

[Legolas]

The cusswords which tested the acoustic qualities of the bridge were anything but becoming of a captain. Not even Lex, the new boy at engineering, could spawn this many can't do's in a day. Was this normal for a captain? He doubted it. In fact he began to suspect Valentine and Hamilton were listening in after all.

"I'm not going to play some cursed game of conceal and spy with that CMO," he said to Comm after settling down some. "And what you're telling me..." Ricor looked to the navigator, his expression that of a man who just found out what his dinner was really made of. "Is this outpost is one hundred and ten percent in the opposite direction, and by the time we reach the station we're over two months along."

After hearing of the sheer distance involved, the chief engineer'd given up on flying the destroyer straight to the station. Granted, this was space and everything took some time, but he'd no desire to fly this patrol without command and, if this void syndrome business kept up, without a crew besides. There'd been ten or so cases already. Many more and the medics couldn't handle it, others'd have to leave their posts, crazed soldiers'd start killing and it would be a miracle if whatever was left by that time could so much as pilot the ship a solarmile dead ahead. Was he panicking? Very likely.

Ricor interrupted his pacing.
"COO was right. Just gölz on for the next six days.
"And see what research has on the C-class message"
With his mind made up, he could use the distraction.