Lines in the Night

Posted on Sun Jun 21st, 2020 @ 6:18am by Lieutenant Arthur Torres Dr.
Edited on on Tue Jul 7th, 2020 @ 1:39pm

Mission: Into the Wild
Location: Deck Five Lounge

A Mission Post by Lieutenant Arthur Torres Dr.
Mission: Into The Wild
Location: Deck Five Lounge
Timeline:
Mon Aug 7th, 2017 @ 7:02pm


They had escaped the worst of the dark matter with mostly just scrapes and bruises, but the real damage seemed to be psychological. While the sensors had been fooled by data ghosts, the crew had been immersed in hallucination after hallucination. Most of the patients in Sick Bay were there because they had broken down at their posts. And they weren't out of dodge yet.

Arthur's back hurt from hunching over his padd, but the data just kept pouring in from across the ship leaving him no time for even a brief respite. He had hunkered down in the far corner of the deck five lounge, nursing a non-regulation drink that he had hoped would kill his headache, but really just seemed to be making him morose, while he played catch-up to the various problems that were arising for both the ship and their mission.

"Seven torpedoes in the last twenty minutes!" He said out loud as a new report from Tactical was filed. "What's taking science and engineering so long with that deflector..." Frowning, he quickly typed up a memo for the heads of the science and engineering departments reminding them that time was in short supply -- literally as short a supply as their torpedo compliment. He pressed 'send' and then went back to reading status updates. The most interesting updates were coming from Science.

Dark matter. Theorized as occupying nearly thirty percent of the universe -- far more than regular matter -- dark matter was, even for scientists of the 24th century, mostly a mystery. Advances over the last hundred years had narrowed down the 'known' qualities a little further. A type of exotic particle called an axion was partly responsible for dark matter, but not completely. What modern scientists had realized was that dark matter interacted with gravity in unexpected and complex ways, and under certain conditions could cause reactions that turned the established fundamentals of physics right on their heads. It was also likely that dark matter concentrations could be responsible for the initial formation of stars and planets; entire planetary systems could be brought into being if a concentration of dark matter was high enough. For all his reading, however, Arthur could find no verifiable reason why dark matter acted the way it did -- and certainly no reason why it would be planted, at the end of the corridor into the expanse, like a minefield.

He sat straight, strained his neck to the side, and sighed as a series of tiny crackling pops rippled through his stiff muscles. This was impossible. There was no way that he could ever understand all the science involved. But complete understanding was not necessary. What mattered, at least for his purposes, were the effects on the mission.

Part of the reason for the hallucinations was clear, at least that part regarding the visions of Borg shared by so many of those affected. The first sensor ghost had been of a Borg ship, and those readings had been sent across the whole ship from department to department, both as concerned friends shared the information, and as those tasked with analyzing the readings stared at the images in concern and fear. So the image was there, fresh in people's minds. But that did not clear up the initial cause of the hallucinations. Science thought it had something to do with the dark matter, or its interactions with 'gravitonic structures', whatever those were, but that seemed to be based more on random guesswork than anything concrete. It could be a natural phenomenon, but it could also be something born of intelligent design. Any ship that exited the corridor would suddenly find itself in a physical mine field of debris and gravity pockets, and if the physical attack failed then the mind could still be targeted.

It seemed clear that a mix of advanced Starfleet technology and simple diversity had saved the Pandora from disaster. Even with their advanced technology, they might have already succumbed to a critical error if so many of the crew weren't telepaths or empaths. Starfleet's diversity was paying off in the most direct way possible, so at least that was something positive to focus on.

Arthur had escaped the most serious effects of the hallucinations himself by stopping by sickbay for a thienobenzodiazepine derivative before things became unmanageable. But the drug had left him with a splitting headache. Standing, he walked to the replicator -- it was late enough in the evening that hardly anyone else was using the lounge -- and stood there for a moment, considering the small digital screen.

"Pasta," he said, "gluten free noodles, meatballs, and red sauce. Side of parmesan cheese. Cup of coffee, black, extra strong." It had felt good to relax with a drink in hand, but the alcohol was not doing any wonders for his headache, or his concentration. That was, in itself, a sign that whatever was happening had not been completely suppressed by the drugs though. Normally he would never have given in to an impulse to drink while a situation like this was brewing. He watched the plate of food and the coffee emerge from the crystalline cloud of the replicator field, and was reaching for the cup almost before it had finished materializing. He took a long sip, sighed as the warmth flooded him.

Back at the table, he began scrolling through information on his padd again, twirling spaghetti around the end of his fork as his thumb scrolled down the screen.

"Hmm, planetary system several light years away..." he said, mumbling to himself around a bite of meatball. That was close enough to provide shelter, and ample raw minerals for extraction if they needed to complete more extensive repairs. It could also be a perfect place for a pirate base, assuming that the Ravagers really were the ones behind the gravitational minefield. Either way, it was a point of interest. He summarized the information quickly, then sent it directly to the captain's terminal for review.

Arthur continued to read, but let his mind drift slightly while he ate. Bird was studying stellar phenomena right now, only a dozen light years away. He longed to compose a message to her, it had been almost a week since their last grainy chat via subspace. Things had been too busy, with his transfer, to do much more than that. But sending a message now would be irresponsible, and with all the communication interference it might not even make it to her anyway. Within the Expanse, he was effectively cut off from the rest of the galaxy, excepting emergency communications and official reports, which were forwarded through the high-energy comms array.

He looked up and out the large lounge window, where the black velvet of space spread away in all directions. Every few minutes there was a distant flash as a photon torpedo ignited in the deep. Bird would have loved the mystery of the dark matter pockets. He smiled, thinking about her expression when he told her about everything she had missed on this mission, but the smile faded when he thought about the dangers that awaited them. Better that she was elsewhere, perhaps. Others were comfortable having partners and children aboard a ship of exploration, but Bird was a hundred times safer on her science vessel back in Federation space.