8-Bit Wonders
Posted on 27 Nov 2022 @ 7:45pm by Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant Commander Lance Quinn (*)
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Pathfinder, Engineering Lab
Timeline: MD08 1700HRS
1708 words - 3.4 OF Standard Post Measure
Calliope had returned her EVA gear and was shaking her helmet-flattened hair out, reshaping it as she booked it towards the Engineering Lab. She'd asked Lance to meet her there first thing. He was probably already evaluating the computer core in the pressurized containment tank...
"No, no, we don't want to obliterate it. Match the water chemistry from the station. You do understand what salinity does to metal composites, yes?" Command Quinn chided the engineering Ensign trying to move the device into a Starfleet containment unit without first considering the options.
"Yes, Commander," Ensign Tilmer began to respond, "I was just thinking that if-"
As the doors opened behind Lance, he wanted to growl with frustration at yet another over-eager engineer here to 'lend a hand' and was about to snap at them when he saw Calliope instead and felt the wind leaving the sails of the USS Foot-in-ass.
"We're just getting it settled," Lance managed tightly, turning back to the job at hand.
Calliope had seen him whip a sidelong look of lukewarm-contempt in her direction before recognition set in. She didn't comment, but quietly took up a position at the station beside him.
"Mister Tilmer." She acknowledged the Ensign handling a tricorder and what looked like a pool testing kit. Tilmer returned a nod. "How's the water?"
"Salty, ma'am," he returned. Calliope thought she saw him smirk slightly under his wispy mustache while casting his own side-eye at Commander Quinn before adding. "But not too salty."
"Are we hardlining with it?" Calliope asked, "Or does it have transmitter access?"
Lance turned to look at her instantly, a quip on his lips and then caught it before it could get out but it cost him some effort. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "Transmitter access only. I'd rather not plug the strange computer into the data core," he replied with as much restraint as he could muster, even factoring in his affection for Calliope.
Calliope was acclimating to Lance's initial readings and scan diagnostics, watching them scroll past as he worked. "We discovered the station was still receiving, although we couldn't make out the message. Science and Operations are working on the signal trace from the bridge. De La Fuente was confident they could triangulate a source location for the message. I'm hoping that if we can work out the data on their core we might be able to help the UT narrow down the language barrier faster."
"I'm sure it will," he agreed. "As soon as we can be certain we're not dealing with anything untoward. The last thing we need is an alien computer virus wreaking havoc on our systems," answered, clearing his throat again. "Fajardo," he called out loudly to Petty Officer. "Make sure the data filters are set in triplicate, on three different encryptions!" he called out. He turned back to Calliope. "We're not taking any chances. Just in case whatever technology those Pyrryx were using snuck its way into that thing," he said, gesturing to the device.
It seemed excessive to Calliope. She'd always handled alien computers by managing a limited-access sandbox interface in a temporarily de-linked sub core. It *usually* did the trick. But a little paranoia would keep them on the safe side. "You think they would have left a bait?" She processed that idea, that the Pyrryx might set up traps intended to be found and taken in "Trojan horse style?"
"We know next to nothing on the Pyrryx. All we have are a few briefs and a description from field Marines on Falkrik that could either be describing a Terran-type humanoid in armor, or a water-dwelling humanoid in some kind of EVA suit," he shrugged. "With the intelligence we have, it could very well be Baba Yaga in that armor. So. I have nothing to base a reasonable hypothesis on. Considering just how off the reservation the technology of the ship in the hangar is. I'm choosing to be over conservative in my approach," he explained patiently. Well. Patiently only because of who was asking the question. "Do you disagree?"
"It's not *im*possible," She said, tactically. "It just didn't seem like the aquatic station had any kind of design similarity to the Talon ship wreckage. And there were no signs of struggle or damage that would imply it had been forcibly taken to have left a viral bait onboard. But, better safe than sorry. The added measures won't take that long to establish." She paused, not sure she understood the exact security protocols he was employing. "Will they?"
"Assuming I have any staff left with the capacity for coherent thought..." he muttered under his breath. "Ensign Tilmer, mind the alkali's," Lance called out, his tone that of frustration and exhaustion.
"Aye, sir," Tilmer answered quickly. Lance could see him chiding himself for missing the obvious but his capacity for compassion at the moment was near to nil. He glanced over at Calliope. "Are you... holding up ok, after the EVA?" he asked quietly. So far there'd be little residual issues but then she hadn't really truly pushed herself that hard. EVA sounded like a walk in the park, but it was taxing in different ways.
"Hm?" Calliope wasn't sure what he was asking. At first she was just tuning in to his lowered voice before she made out what it was he had said. It was only a moment later that she realized the brief jaunt underwater, even with the resistance of motion and the orientation issues, hadn't left her feeling any more sore or tired or nauseated than usual. She brightened at the realization and bit her top lip with her lower one, restraining a feeling of victory that she thought was maybe too big a sense for so small an achievement. So minor that she hadn't even thought about it until Lance had pointed it out. Maybe it was the working adrenaline, the sense of urgency keeping her from feeling it. Maybe the aches would set in later. But it felt good right then and she whispered back, "I held up just fine."
Lance let a glimmer of a smile touch the edge of his lips, even though on the inside he was truly happy to hear that. So much had been wrong, or just off, since this had all started. Even the simplest things that they had both taken for granted had been sent topsy turvey, so hearing that this had gone smoothly and the she wasn't physically, or mentally, skaken because of it was the first real bit of positive progress he felt they'd had. Like like was really moving back into something akin to normal.
As the first of the data came through the multiple filters it was largely indecipherable. The computer didn't know any of the file types yet, obviously. The smallest of them seemed a very simple file, and seemed to be indexed more often than anything else in the entire system. Calliope opened it and the simple on/off of the data opened in an array of pixels. The computer made several dozen guesses at the proper display of the grid- there was nothing in the file delineating how high or wide it should be.
"No, no," Lance called out, shaking his head. "Don't use a grid square, use a circle. Look at the way the cycle is rotating. Represented in three-dimensional space it'd be a sphere. Use that as your baseline format," he explained.
"Oh?" Calliope didn't see what he did, but easily accepted he must be recognizing a pattern she couldn't. She closed out the assumed rectangular arrangements and, following his rotation suggestion, lined up the pattern so it registered in a series of pixelated circles which filled the display with a simple animation of a wide, circular, spinning image. It looked like something of a simplified celestial sphere with additional alien notations on it.
Quinn grinned outright, "Brilliant," he nodded. "It's like the Voyager probes Earth sent in the 20th century."
"So this file was probably referenced so heavily in the system because they've been pinging subspace with it. That whole station is a first contact communications center, trying to say hello!" The realization was exciting.
"This is an invitation - a beacon. It's sending... basic mathematical formulas, trajectories from local stars, things like that," he explained as he read the translations, of which not all were complete. "Could be this isn't translated yet, or maybe it's just nothing we understand.. but there, ah. Yes. Look at that..." he grinned, all but tapping the display. "Their biological structure, and that of some of the life on the planet. Doctor Wagner is going to want this," he said, pondering as he read a bit more. He finally looked over at Calliope and smiled properly.
Bright eyed, Calliope turned to match the look he gave. It was exciting to puzzle this new discovery out together. "The computer should be able to use these representations as a key to translate some other recurring file elements and build from there." Turning back to the console, Calliope began to enter an amendment for the Universal Translator.
As she worked, the animation's cycle rotated out to a starkly all white circle, the center of which featured a black pixelated form, immediately recognizable. Like some little video game's end boss, there stood the unmistakable black on white representation of the Pyrryx warrior armor. Along the borders of the image scrolled some pixelated symbols which weren't translatable yet, but could hardly be anything short of either a warning or a call for help.
She jumped at the uncanny timing of the ship's klaxons bringing the crew to attention, her head coming upwards and taking in the sudden red lighting. Urgent and far more solemn, Calliope looked at Lance and touched his hand.
"I've got to get to the bridge," she said, uncertain what had triggered the alarm.
"Right," Lance nodded, his eyebrows lifting up in surprise as well. As Calliope hurried from the deck, he called out to his team. "Cut the feeds! All of them!" he cried out hurriedly. "I want a level ten forcefield around that thing. Do it now and get to your stations! Go, go!"
