Logistical Limitations
Posted on 11 Mar 2023 @ 9:53am by Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant Commander Lance Quinn (*) & Lieutenant JG Maxwell Tilmer
Edited on on 15 Oct 2023 @ 7:53pm
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Pathfinder, Bridge & Engineering
Timeline: MD09 0045
1463 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure
As she crossed the bridge, Calliope’s eyes had rested on Steiner and De La Fuente as first picks. In response to her eye-line, both seemed to lean forward on their toes as if ready to be called on, but she stopped short of selecting them. She also wanted Wagner. The doctor was proving to be the most insightful about the Korinn, and in ways beyond just the arrangement of their organs. Without a Diplomat or a Counselor at hand, Calliope had a feeling Wagner was one of the best support options for a cultural meeting, let alone in case of injury. But then, having a pilot with specialized underwater certifications would be a plus. But, but, but… it all left her with too many butts and not enough chairs.
She came to the back of the bridge where Dr Wagner was ready to offer further help, then spoke loudly enough to be heard at large. “Doctor, you're to join the Away Team. I’ll need you to prepare the Korinn body for transport and let me know when you’re ready to go.”
Calliope looked around once more, again lingering on Stiener and De La Fuente. With the added cargo and gear, the waverider would only have room for one of them. And then she would have to also forgo a pilot and navigate underwater herself unless one of the marines by some chance had some special forces aquatic piloting up his buff-armed sleeve. Hopefully the Korinn weren’t too deep in the ocean, because she wasn’t sure the SIF rating of the waverider either… Had there been a normal line of communication between herself and Corvus, she would have simply made the recommendation to switch it out for some other vessel and debated the Marines being assigned to her. But she wasn’t sure bringing it all up, in open or in sidebar, would backfire on her further. She had to think.
“I’ll need a few minutes to select the rest of the team.” Calliope tapped her commbadge as she angled for the turbolift. “Zahn to Commander Quinn. Meet me in Engineering to secure the Korinn computer core for transport.”
“Engineering.” The doors closed and she rode in silence, her mental gears grinding on the problem of selecting a team she couldn’t fit in the waverider. When the doors opened she shot out, looking for Lance.
Commander Quinn was holding court at the largest terminal in the engineering deck, quietly watching a data feed scrolling in four segments down the screen, clearly lost to his own thoughts until stirred from them by the arrival of his wife. He shook his head, “I need at least three more hours to secure the data transfer from the core. There’s decades of sensor logs that could prove useful,” he explained.
“Well,” Calliope hopped up onto the console, partially obscuring the view of the screen and put her hands folded in her lap. “It’s exam time now so we’re going to have to do what we can with just the abstracts.” She glanced aside briefly at support techs, standing by to disengage the core and shut it down for packaging. Two operations officers were constructing the custom crate for it. “I need to take it back to the Korinn with our first contact, so they know we’re not raiders. Friends return what they find.”
“I’d rather finders keepers,” Lance shook his head. “We don’t have nearly enough data here. This has logs of stellar phenomena we may not get a chance to see again. Maybe even readings on Pyrryx vessels moving in the area. I need more time.”
The prospect of the valuable tactical data gave Calliope a moment’s pause, but ultimately she didn’t like where it would put them diplomatically to withhold the core. “I wish I had more to work with, too.”
Heaving a sigh, Lance killed the data feed and waved his team off. “Kill all the data connections and prepare to pack up the device,” he ordered grumpily. The hovering techs were suddenly all busy, running the shut downs and preparing the proper saline and pressurization for the new sealed transfer crate.
Having gotten her way, Calliope slid back off the console. “Thank you. A lot hangs on this first impression. With any luck we’ll come back with this data and more,” she tried to offer as consolation.
Lance crossed his arms, a little sour, although Calliope could tell it was mostly for show with her. "It doesn't sound like a sure thing. But that's your call, Commander. Not mine."
Calliope shook her head. Of course Lance wanted to wash his hands of any blame to be had even if he was drying them on her proverbial shirt. Such was command. She lowered her voice, still frustrated with her impossible logistical issue. “Now I just have to figure out how to fit everything and everyone we need into the Waverider Covus ordered us to take. I’m good at Tetris, but this one’s got me stumped.”
Lance’s antenna picked up on a problem, and he was nothing if not a problem solver. "What seems to be the difficulty?"
“In an abundance of caution, she strapped me with two Marines."
Lance's lip curled up in disgust at first. "On a diplomatic endeavor?" The initial reaction softened however when he decided that on the other hand, it might be the better part of wisdom. "Well, I suppose there's no telling what resistance you might meet."
"I picked up Dr. Wagner to balance it out. She's had the most cultural insights so far, apart from the decoding you've been running. Ultimately,” She ticked the rest off on her fingers, “I still need Science, Flight, and Security.” She held up her pointer finger. “I get to choose one.”
"Perhaps an engineer as well?" He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.
"No, Lance," she said a little too quickly. He’d had practically no field experience and they both knew it.
"Well,” he huffed. “You could at least have humored me and pretended to consider my offer."
"I couldn't fit you even if I wanted to.” Looking him in the eyes, Calliope pulled him lightly by the lapels of his duty jacket to express her earnestness. “Either way, I want you here to support Captain DeHavilland. For… balance." Calliope didn't really want to get into what she meant. She didn't want to say it, but Corvus needed level heads around her to keep her out of whatever spin her mind-space seemed on the verge of.
"Very well then. Take Ensign Tilmer. He’s fairly competent but exceptionally irritating."
Calliope barked a short laugh as Lance saddled her with his problem child as retaliation for not bringing him on. "I told you, there's not enough seats!"
"On the waverider? Heavens no. But.” Lance reached aside for a padd, paging through some engineering statuses before making some key selections and looking smugly back to his wife. “That vessel is officially unavailable."
“It’s what?”
"Overdue for maintenance, I'm afraid.” He dropped the padd on the console. “There's a type 11 in the bay, but I think for underwater propulsion and structural integrity, an Arrow Class runabout would perform much more safely, and to significantly further depths. It also happens to accommodate upwards of sixteen persons at a time. I believe they're standard issue on the Prometheus Class vessels. Unless I'm mistaken. And I rarely am."
“Lancelot Edward Alcott Quinn— I could kiss you.”
He rocked on his heels, clearly pleased with himself. “I will remember it, upon your return.”
Without time to waste and with a new rush of wind in her sails, Calliope turned and tapped her commbadge, calling out as she left Engineering. “Mr. De La Fuente and Mr. Steiner, you’re on the Away Team. Please meet me in the shuttlebay at 0200.” She was certain she could secure both the runabout and a qualified pilot from Theseus in that time, have the Runabout flight checked and prepared for aquatic use, as well as get all the gear she needed from the Quartermaster. “Bring whatever gear you find necessary. We’ll suit up in the bay—”
As his wife departed Engineering, Lance folded his arms once more and walked around the packing crate in progress. “Ensign Tilmer, when this is complete, you may accompany it to the Shuttlebay and present yourself as a member of the Away Team.” Commander Quinn leveled his gaze at the young officer. “See that the core is delivered safely.”
Max Tilmer sensed the threat of or else behind the order and his mustache twitched as he gulped. “Yes, Commander.”
