Change of Plans
Posted on 30 Mar 2023 @ 10:48pm by Ensign Marcello Wiser & Captain Corvus DeHavilland & Lieutenant Commander Lance Quinn (*) & Lieutenant Louke Haille & Captain Lachlan Callum & Major Declan Finn
Edited on on 02 Apr 2023 @ 2:13pm
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: In low orbit of Korix. Pathfinder, Bridge
Timeline: MD09 0438HRS
5498 words - 11 OF Standard Post Measure
Following the launch of the probe, Lance Quinn took the next eighty three minutes and forty five seconds as a break for tea. He left the bridge post to a subordinate— he wasn’t standard at the post anyhow— and leisurely sat down in the conference room with a cup of English Breakfast. It was horrid, not having real leaves to brew and having to make due with replicated similitude.
“I suppose,” he mumbled to himself, “that this is all part of so-called ‘field work’.” And he set down with a padd on the latest papers from his fellows from Daystrom which he had managed to download for himself on the way to check in to this mission.
DeHavilland was worried, and he did briefly wonder if that should worry him. But it was all poppycock as far as he was concerned. Just as he was foremost in his field, Calliope was an expert in hers. There was no doubt in his mind that she was leading the Acamas splendidly, and everything below was likely going swimmingly, literally, and history was being made between two cultures. He had set aside the very idea of wasted worry long ago. It left him more time to focus on things that actually mattered.
His poor excuse for a tea mostly untouched and long since cold, a small alarm he had set to ring him to return to his station chirped and he gladly returned the remainder of the imitation leaf water to the receptacle from whence it had come. Good riddance.
“Let us see what we shall see.” He said idly as he resumed the bridge station, the subordinate shuffling off and out of his way to a side access. Even before the probe emerged as planned, Lance had already come to some conclusions. “We can surmise,” he said out loud as if teaching a dull undergraduate class, “That since the probe did not return before its low altitude orbital pattern was complete, that there will be no positive returns to the attempt at sonar contact.” Shortly after addressing the point, the awaited probe emerged from the sizable growing storm cloud— which incidentally was developing the tell tale arms of a hurricane now— and began to stream its data findings on science and tactical monitors.
Glancing up from the monitors tracking the growing developments of the storm, Louke met Quinn’s gaze. “We’ve got better weather modeling; barometer’s already under 850 and still dropping.” He glanced at Wiser who Louke knew was taking close notes on the weather, in case they did end up asking him to take any crazy risks. “If it gets into the 700’s I would seriously caution against trying to fly through.”
“No readings below the water surface,” Saaba reported with some frustration. “Some kind of refractory effect in the mineral content. Maybe we can build a filter protocol for sensors, using the sampling data that Commander De La Fuente sent back before we lost transmission. It was preliminary, but it was something.”
“There was a flyover that produced some land images,” Louke offered.
With a defeated sigh, DeHavilland gestured again at the forward glass. “Let’s see the images,” she ordered, uncertain what it would give them but as it was really all they had she ordered it put up. If she could just get one shred of confirmation that the away team was ok, that their radio silence was simply a malfunction or a product of the environment she could take a breath and get back to waiting. But so far, all she had was more reasons for the nervous ache in her stomach to get stronger.
Louke scanned through the reports until he found the one he wanted. “Here we go; there was a flyover of the island, and we were able to get some physical images of the surface. Granted, it’s predominantly water, but there’s a good swathe of ground above water here, approximately 400 square miles.” The graphics were a little grayed out at first, seeing as the images were taken in low light while the island’s part of the planet was clouded over and beginning to rotate away from the star, but he ran a simple mapping protocol over it and the computer created a version lit up as if in the afternoon, and began to highlight features such as structures and key parts of the landscape with symbols and surveying measurements.
As the focus narrowed in, Louke began to zoom into the most interesting part of the island, where the industrial structures were mostly crowded. There was the tallest feature, the Communications tower which hadn’t returned their hails, and the mining rigs and smelting plants. There were small platforms with aircraft parked on them at intervals. Although they looked like fighters, the computer didn’t take them to be space worthy by their dimensions and style. A great deal of smoke was pouring into the sky from the stacks, though the image was still and unmoving, there was no doubt the stacks had been belching pollution for a long time before and no doubt were still doing so presently. Louke continued to scroll across the larger structures on the land, until he came to mostly blank beaches with just small tin roofs in one quadrant; assuming them to be nothing but a lot of tool sheds, he scrolled past.
“Can we determine what they’re mining here?” DeHavilland asked, watching the last of the facilities go by and now being replaced by an endless beach.
Quinn volunteered his knowledge. “We can deduce from the style of the smelters that this is likely a mineral with multiple refining passes required for use. There are six smelters in each series, and they are each outputting different byproducts. The first is—”
“The Reader’s Digest version, Commander?” DeHavilland asked, looking back at the man with a patient, but tired, smile.
“Obviously it’s Kelbonite. A rare mineral typically found in miniscule amounts in asteroid mining and of great value in ablative armor construction methods and various other shipbuilding applications. Replication of kelbonite is subpar. Kelbonite is also a very difficult matter to scan through. It would seem there are veins throughout the island. I might even postulate that the island may have once been asteroid material. Were I to be able to scan the ocean floor, we would likely find it to be the peak of the rim of a great crater.”
“But nothing we’ve seen from the Korin, on the station or on the probe they sent, would suggest they have ablative armor capabilities, correct?” Corvus pressed the Engineer.
“Hardly.”
“Lieutenant, rewind the feed back to the mining facilities,” DeHavilland ordered, taking a cursory step towards the forward glass as if that would make the details clearer to her. “Wouldn't mind a closer look at those craft we saw as well,” she ordered. Louke quickly began to backtrack the feed from the probe on its pass over the island. Corvus watched endless beach sweep past, backwards from its original progression and was trying to wrap her head around the logistics and the why of all this mining.
“Stop, Haille. Go back,” Major Finn cut in suddenly from the bulkhead where he’d been leaning against the bulkhead by Corvus’ ready room. He’d called out to Haille and stepped quickly off the wall, almost having been lulled into a sense that he wasn’t really needed here. Sergeant Eindorf was standing watch on the other side of the bridge and he could have easily excused himself for a bit to get some rest. But Corvus had made a big show of wanting his participation and advice, so he was sticking around. For the reasons she stated and, maybe because of the reasons she’d shown him too.
Louke paused his scroll and reversed again, slowly. He wasn’t entirely sure where Finn intended him to track back to, but he had a suspicion and aimed for the footage of the tin roofs.
“Major?” DeHavilland asked, confused, as he walked towards the forward glass right of the CoNN station to have a closer look.
“There, stop there,” Finn ordered, pointing. The feed now froze to a view of wide open beach. It was a set of sheds in a neat semi circle, at the center of which was the longest of the sheds and one set at an angle to the rest with an open area made out in front of it. All set back from the water, on firm soil with high dunes protecting one side. To the other a small stream flowed out to the ocean. There was a cow path from the stream to the sheds, and a cylindrical structure standing on its own.
Finn stared hungrily at the sheds, turning his neck slightly this way and that as he looked it over, slowly beginning to nod more and more assuredly. Declan stepped back from the secondary CoNN station and called out, “Tell me you see it, Matz?”
Sergeant Eindorf, standing watch by the door to the lift, was nodding fervently, “Textbook, sir, straight from the manual.”
“What are you talking about?” Corvus asked Declan. “You’ve seen Korin huts somewhere before?” she pressed, shaking her head in confusion.
“No,” Finn replied with an emphatic shake of his own. He pointed to the display and walked back towards the glass. “Defensive side here, infirmary here, HQ here,” he said, pointing out the dunes on one side, the long building in the center and the angled building with what was undoubtedly a campfire in front of it. Standard field manual layout of a field camp,” he declared. “That is not Korin. That is SFMC standard!” he declared emphatically.
DeHavilland stared back at Finn, her eyes moving between the display and the Major, uncertainly. “That’s…” she trailed off.
Enthralled at the idea himself, Louke zoomed in closer to pan around the camp. The computer made a few enhancement passes, accounting for the low light. He paused at something that looked like lettering carved into the ground at the base of the cylindrical structure, and ran another algorithm to decipher partial text, resulting in the letters, all caps, being false image highlighted by the computer.
“Camp Sunrise?” Louke read out loud.
“How is this possible?” DeHavilland shook her head.
Major Finn punched his fist into his hand and turned away from the glass, “This just turned into a rescue mission, Captain. I can have my Marines suited up in ten, on the ground in fifteen. We’ll get our people back.”
“Easy, Major, we don’t even know if there’s anyone alive down there. This could be… who knows how old this could be,” DeHavilland replied, looking back to Quinn and Haille for help. “Can we get any bio signs?”
Finn growled with frustration, but let it play out although he did step around DeHavilland to look at Eindorf and flicked his head to the side in silent order for him to go and get ready. Eindorf nodded, pulled a data PaDD from his vest and a few moments later when Lance Corporal Dunlavy stepped out of the duty lounge to relieve him, Eindorf stepped into the lift and disappeared.
“We cannot.” Quinn sighed. “Apart from the effect Kelbonite has on scanners, you will recall the planetary pollutants and the static storm layer.”
“There must be something we can *try* though.” Louke mused. “Probe linking with an amplifier.” He brought up his much earlier suggestion.
“Yes, well, if there’s nothing to amplify, you just accrue louder static. But…” Quinn looked upwards to the unseeable place from whence ideas often formed. “If you had, say a grounded— Lieutenant, would you take us back to have a look at the communications tower?”
Isolating the snapshot of Camp Sunrise, Louke tabled it in a sidebar, then moved the image back to the Korinn Communications Tower.
Quinn stepped forward, elbow cradled in one hand and chin in the other, considering the dimensions and layout of the tower and surrounding grid. “Yes. Yes, that should do nicely. Utilizing a chain of probes through the static interference, I could attempt to read the tower’s sensor array as it is situated from the ground. It is a primitive array, and unlikely to extend very far, but with a signaling override, it may shed some light.”
“Do it, Commander. Limited information is better than no information,” Captain DeHavilland agreed.
“Lieutenant Haille, kindly prepare five probes to meet the criteria I am sending you, and keep stations at the following altitudes and coordinates. I shall endeavor to encode a signal reflection protocol that will copy and return the sensor imaging of the Korinn grid.” Quinn appeared a little more engaged with the task than his previous ones, though it was a simple matter of frequencies and computer logic. Meanwhile Louke went through the probe settings and entered them.
“Commander,” Major Finn spoke up, turning the man’s attention briefly away. “Would an isolinear transporter tag be able to beam someone up from the surface?” he asked.
“Uncertain." Quinn said drily, not looking up from his other more absorbing task. "I would say it may be possible through the Kelbonite scatter, or through the storm static, but with both at play, I would consult a transporter expert for the likelihood of not causing a horrendous transporter incident. Perhaps with a shuttle below the storm, or continued probe relay, your chances increase.”
“What if we deployed repeater stations?” Finn pressed, taking a step towards Quinn at his station, eager for an answer that supported his idea. “Boost the signal on the ground through the probe relays?”
Quinn shook his head. While he could draw a lot of diagrams on the science behind transportation, it was neither his chief field of study, nor anything he had ever effected much time in operating. He knew his way around special settings and programming, such that he could isolate things, but he was being asked about extended circumstances. “CPO Veith might have more suitable answers. I’m afraid that I could only postulate as to the safety. Shall I summon him from the transporter room to consult?”
“If I might,” said a voice with a clipped British accent from the comm feed with the Theseus. “Commander Brightwood of theTheseus here. To answer your question, Major, isolinear tags are designed to amplify the signal clarity, presuming that there is a latent transport lock unable to be resolved,” he explained patiently, but with a cheerfulness that Quinn clearly lacked. ”They clear the smudge on the glass, so to say,” he chuckled to himself. ”However, repeater stations are specifically designed to amplify transporters. I have personally utilized them in various situations to amplify a ship-based transporter lock. While this should be sufficient on its own, were we to further amplify the signal from Pathfinder or Theseus back through the existing relay, I have every faith the signal will hold.”
Declan turned back to DeHavilland with a clear expression of determination on his face, “We do an orbital drop, find the survivors, drop repeaters, tag them and get them back and us back to the ship. Max incursion time of less than half an hour,” he outlined.
“No. I’m not risking you or your Marines on this!” DeHavilland hissed back at him, now starting to get furious that he wasn’t letting it go.
“It’s not a risk. This is what we do, Captain,” Declan fired back hotly.
“Captain!” The helmsman suddenly called out. Wiser was almost jumping out of his seat with a new revelation. “I think I found something in the archives.”
“What did you find?” Corvus asked, glad for the excuse to turn away from this particular argument and hopefully to something of use. She stood off to his right, her hand on the back of his chair as she looked down at his station hopefully.
Wiser pointed to a ship schematic and a rotating set of crew files on his station. “So, I ran a database search on missing vessels in the area, to see if there’s anyone unaccounted for, and this came up. There was an old Steamrunner class, the USS Sunrise. She was on her final cruise before a planned decommission. It was a survey mission in the aurelian belt. Starfleet lost contact with her nine years ago, there was a sector search, but they turned up nothing. The ship was declared missing, and later the crew were presumed dead. USS Sunrise… Camp Sunrise…” Wiser added the obvious. “Kind of a big coincidence?”
Corvus let out a slow breath, reading through the names on the list but not really processing that. Her head was spinning. How had this simple mission turned into this absolute quagmire with no definitive answer. In many ways, she envied Declan, who so clearly had his decision made. He knew what he thought was best and he was pressing to do it, she just wasn’t so eager to risk lives. She wasn’t even sure she hadn’t lost the first away team.
“Probe relay is ready to launch, Captain,” Saaba announced, once more stirring Corvus from a more difficult line of thinking.
“Launch it,” DeHavilland ordered, leaving Wiser’s side and returning to the center of the bridge.
“Five men, half an hour. No one gets left behind,” Declan hissed at her as she returned closer to him, leaning in close to make the suggestion.
“No,” she breathed back. “I’m not risking any lives I don’t have to,” she whispered.
“Everything about command is risk, Corvus,” he breathed back as Saaba kept a running verbal tally of the probes process.
“Establishing link with the tower.” Quinn said, then continued after a beat. “We have an uplink. I’m tapped into the relay. Using a new signal function to extend our sensors through the ground grid.”
Resolution on life signs began to populate the corner of the island surrounding the communication tower on the map already projected. Korinn were the dominant lifesign, primarily found in the shorewaters and in artificial lagoons inside of the land. A few Korinn were scattered throughout the landmarks above the water. Among the dunes on the land were 4 friendly life signs— two human children, a human adult, and a betazoid one. Quinn looked up to be sure what he had on his monitor was projecting on the forward display.
“There they are. Clear as day. I can cross reference their readings with biosigns in the Sunrise’s record.” As Quinn was doing so, something highlighted on the very outer reach of the Communication tower’s range. On the nearby volcanic rise, an enemy color highlighted a Pyrryx lifesign. Two unknown lifesigns were marked in its vicinity.
What little color Corvus’ face held melted as she read the screen in front of her.
“Bio signs of the adults match one Major Porter John Wallace, Marine Commanding Officer at the time of the Sunrise’s disappearance, and Chief Petty Officer Ibis Xeri, a Science specialist.” Quinn said, not having noticed the new enemy lifesign while exploring the records. “Odd. A full blooded betazoid and no telepathic contact…”
“Maybe she’s wearing a tinfoil hat?” Wiser suggested. When Quinn gave him a glare, Wiser self corrected. “Unhelpful, yes Sir.”
“Now it is a rescue mission, Captain,” Declan declared matter-of-factly. “I’ll prep my Marines,” he stated defiantly.
“No. You’re not jumping into this,” Corvus hissed back as Declan walked past. “Stand down, Major,” she added sharply.
Major Finn turned back and shook his head, “Then you’re sending a team?” he asked sharply. “Then I’m with them,” he declared flat out.
“This is not a debate, Major,” Corvus fired back hotly, now. “I am in command of this mission, not the Marines. Your job is to keep me safe as the Admiral ordered, and as you have so frequently reminded me,” she growled at him, jabbing a finger at him as she stepped closer.
“What happened to wanting my input?” he snapped back.
“This discussion is over,” DeHavilland shut him down in reply. “Done. If you can’t take that, get the hell off my bridge,” she barked, turning pointedly away from the Major and setting her hands on her hips as she looked back to the forward glass to continue reading and come up with her plan.
Wiser was turned around in his chair as the Captain shouted down the MCO, and he and Saaba exchanged looks before peering at Haille. This wasn’t good. It was starting to look like no one had an idea how to proceed.
A moment later, the holo-presence of Captain Callum appeared on the bridge of the man standing with his arms folded and looking squarely at Corvus. “Captain, the Admiral’s orders were for the Pathfinder to run at the first sign of the Pyrryx,” he declared flatly. “This may be that time. That comm’s tower may well see us here, and if the away team was attacked, it would be sharing that information with their friends,” he explained.
“I’m not leaving. My team is still not accounted for,” DeHavilland shook her head defiantly. She knew what he was trying to imply, and she hated that she respected the man for doing it so delicately when that wasn't his reputation. But she wasn’t about to tuck tail and run, leaving not only her crew but whatever survivors there were on that planet behind. There had to be a way to do this without risking any more lives.
“We’re moving to your position,” Callum declared matter-of-factly. “So long as there’s not a Pyrryx vessel in the area… Pathfinder can remain,” he said, clearly taking command of the now tactical scenario.
“Commander Quinn, is that tower sending out a signal?” DeHavilland asked suddenly, turning back to her Chief Engineer. She was no less determined to get out of this without risking lives, but she couldn't deny the sharp blow to her sense of control that had come from Callum so calmly taking command of this mission out from under her.
“Negative, Captain. It is in receiving mode only.”
Callum was looking to his left to whomever on his side was there that they couldn't see and then nodded, “I’m still not getting warm fuzzies from this. The sooner we can be done here, the better,” he declared.
“Agreed, but not without my away team,” DeHavilland demanded.
“I should very well hope not.” Quinn muttered, already planning to lock out the warp engine in the event. Quinn was no longer looking blasé in his posture. He had just heard both captains discussing leaving his wife’s team behind on an alien planet, and things were no longer a pittance matter to his mind. “Is this a common occurrence? Leaving behind one’s crewmates?” He liked this work less and less every minute.
“It’s not common for us to be so out of our league,” DeHavilland answered, heaving a sigh. “Are we left with no other choice than to send an away team to try and find the first, and find the survivors?” Corvus asked, her attention redirected back to Callum.
“Commander Zahn would have found a way to signal us, should there be any real danger to her away team.” Quinn said, certain that Calliope was still on task, although it was a waning certainty. “I don’t believe we need worry ourselves on their account.”
“We have confirmed Pyrryx and survivors of a Starfleet vessel presumed lost with all hands. I am not certain anyone on that planet, or here in orbit, is out of danger,” Callum shook his head.
“One, finite red dot…” Quinn said quietly. “And everyone is in a tizzy.”
“I agree,” DeHavilland said back, trying to offer a wry smile, “But I’ve seen what these Pyrryx can do. Taking chances with them isn’t wise. Even if it’s just one.”
“Then we are agreed,” Callum shrugged. “The only way to end this quickly is to go down there and get our away team, and the survivors.”
Corvus sighed and shook her head. It was the option she’d been avoiding the entire time, but with tactical command now clearly with Callum and his suggestion a thinly veiled threat that he would do what he needed to, she knew she had no choice but to give in.
“I can send Major Finn and a team of Marines to get the survivors,” Corvus relented. “Mr. Wiser, you’ll pilot the shuttle.”
“Aye ma’am.” Wiser turned his seat around again and paged a replacement for the Helm, “Ensign Zletze, to the bridge.”
“We will send a runabout to try and make contact with the away team and return,” Callum nodded in agreement.
“Commander Quinn,” Corvus gestured to the glass. “Show us the Starfleet bio signs,” she asked, ready to plan out their progress. Maybe they could just transport them aboard the shuttle once they were right on top of them.
“Ah, yes, let’s have a closer look,” Quinn began to reduce the map and recenter it on the bio signatures in question, when all of the lifesigns suddenly blinked out. The map was devoid of life signs once more. Quinn lifted his hands from the controls, unsure what had just happened. “I’ve lost the signal.”
“Uh… Captain,” Saaba said, switching to visuals on the drone relay. The graphics were flickering as the static affected the readings. But it was clear enough to see that the Korinn communication tower was flaming and leaning into a long, slow, fall over the ocean.
“That,” Quinn said emphatically, “Was in no ways my doing.”
Callum’s arms unfolded as he stared at his viewer and then turned aside on his side and barked, “Brightwood, form your team and get to the shuttlebay. Now.”
“Wiser, now’s the time,” DeHavilland declared. With the added urgency upon urgency, Wiser was out of his seat like a shot, headed for the shuttlebay. The Captain was a pilot herself after all.
“That’s quite impossible,” Commander Quinn shook his head as his terminal began to chirp a sing-song alert. “Captain… I am seeing a pressurization alarm on Deck eight, just outside the ventral phaser array,” he explained.
“What?!” DeHavilland hissed incredulously. “Is there anyone in that section?”
“It’s a Jeffries tube access only section,” Quinn explained, tension showing in his neck. “There was a relay miscalibration in a nearby section, but I expressly forbid Chief Engebarden from sending a team until we were back to base… if she has defied my orders…” he shook his head fervently.
Quinn tapped his commbadge, “Quinn to Engebarden.”
“Go ahead, Commander,” a woman answered quickly, her accent heavy, and obvious in the three simple words.
“I believe I was emphatically clear that the relay miscalibration was to be left until we return to station,” Quinn chided her immediately.
”Aye, Commander. I put it on the docking station repair list,” she answered.
“Then, pray tell as to why are you working in the adjacent subjunction?” he asked sharply.
”Sir?” she countered, ”I’m working on a lift unit outside on deck four,” she answered.
Quinn’s brow furrowed, but he was convinced she wasn’t being truthful and immediately moved the alert screen aside to access the internal scanners when the alert turned from sing-song chirp to a shrill alarm.
Corvus hurried to his station, the concern evident on her face even if she didn’t speak it aloud. The expectation that Quinn would tell her was obvious.
“H-... hull breach on deck eight!” he declared in disbelief.
“Emergency forcefields?!” DeHavilland demanded to know.
Quinn frowned even more at the terminal, shaking his head now.
“Commander?” Corvus pressed urgently. What was happening here? What had she missed?
He looked up at her and then back down, shaking his head slightly. “The emergency forcefields are up in the access junction, but not on the hull side. It’s as though it were purposely depressurized, from the inside out, and the hatch released into space,” he shook his head, not understanding. Was this some kind of wild malfunction related to the relay, or was someone choosing a very bad way to go. A darker thought crossed his mind that maybe whatever miscreant had been causing trouble on OC had been aboard and this was their chance to escape, meaning that there was more to this mission than they believed. A thought that filled him with a sense of intense dread for the fate of Calliope.
Louke’s brow furrowed as the readings played across his screen. “Someone left the ship? Into open space?” He pieced together from the helter skelter engineering updates. “Running an internal scan. Computer says that there are five lifesigns unaccounted for— Finn, Declan; Eindorf, Matz, Mammello, Chimwalla; Drakes, Phillip and Parveaux, Gaspard.”
“What?!” DeHavilland fired off in answer.
“Hoorah,” Corporal Waters standing watch by the door muttered, picking the exact moment Corvus went silent to say it, then blanching when she glared at him menacingly.
“I was able to override the controls. The breach is sealed,” Quinn followed up, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I have a visual, ma’am,” Ensign Zletze offered from the helm, having arrived to replace Wiser without anyone really noticing. At least not in all the commotion going on thus far.
The image of five Marines was overlaid on the glass in a standard orbital insertion formation with a single line and a placard off from their figure listing their names with Major Finn in the lead position and Parveaux in the last. She realized as she watched them drop, arms tucked back, heads forward riding through the brief flash from their reentry that they wouldn’t have been able to do this if they hadn’t already been in such low orbit. But soon as that thought occurred to her, she realized that they wouldn’t be in this position if she hadn’t snapped at Declan and kicked him off the bridge. She tried to counter that in her head by telling herself she hadn’t kicked him off, he’d left on his own, but she knew it was just her trying to delude herself into a false sense of superiority. She hadn’t left him a choice but to leave. Not that it justified this complete betrayal.
Was that what her life was reduced to now; one betrayal after another. First Calliope, forcing her into a situation she didn’t want to deal with with the Admiral and with Commander Zayne. Now, almost in the same moment that she had finally let herself let her guard down and care for another man he had done the same. Circumvented her authority and her commands to make an orbital drop - regardless of how justified his action might be deemed to be after the fact. The truth was he’d gone around her purposely.
“I suggest we trade roles, Captain,” Callum chimed in, having offered no real commentary on Major Finn’s complete insubordination. Like everyone, he’d watched the Marines fall through the planet’s atmosphere until their figures were lost to the interference and the storm front moving in. When Corvus looked at him with a look of confusion, he clarified. “Send your away team to find the first. I will send mine to the island to support Major Finn,” he explained.
Corvus wanted to scream at the top of her lungs with frustration, but only offered a snarl in response and a forced nod of acquiescence. “Agreed. Commander, go with Ensign Wiser,” she ordered Quinn sharply. “It’s your command. Bring everyone back. Alive,” she added.
Quinn hesitated. Calliope had specifically told him she meant for him to remain with the Captain. But he was being ordered by DeHavilland to see as to locating Calliope. Under the circumstances, he would rather inform his wife that in spite of her mission—purportedly one of First Contact that was, technically speaking, looking to be something more of a Second Contact— it was time to conclude her efforts, seeing as everyone was currently either discussing abandoning her on a backward waterlogged planet or else jumping head first from spaceships and otherwise generally becoming highly unreasonable. Come to think of it, he would rather disengage himself from the circus that was this bridge than to remain. “Very Well.” He said, marching himself to the turbo lift. “Do try not to go anywhere prior to our return.”
“Just get everyone back, Lance,” Corvus answered quickly. “Everyone.”
