Just Another Hero
Posted on 29 May 2025 @ 11:52am by Commander Calliope Zahn & Senior Deputy Marshal: Sven-Erik Lofthammer - FMS
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Timeline: (immediately after "Challenging Times")
1100 words - 2.2 OF Standard Post Measure
Calliope lagged a little in the line as she waited for a refill of the plate of roasted vegetables to be refilled. She kept an eye on Brek as he piled a plate high with dense, rich foods and remembered what the Gallery owner had just said about having been a few pounds heavier as a diplomat. He seemed experienced in packing it away. She wondered what other experience and connections he might have and planned to get him talking so she could add him to her growing list of new, if unlikely, connections and resources…
“Pardon, ma’am”
She blinked herself back to the present, as Lofthammer weaved around her to load up a fresh round of meatballs on a toasted roll.
“Seconds,” he said by way of explanation as she watched, half incredulously. Uncertain why she was staring daggers at him, he offered her the sloppy roll. “Try some?”
Normally she might have said yes, but she was all made up and not willing to amend her look with meat sauce. She shook her head.
“More for me.” He said, as if he could take out the entire food service tray himself.
“What was it?”
“A meatball sub, or a 'hero' we call these back home. On account of you’ve got to be a hero to eat one, as someone or other once said.”
“Meatball? You’re a meatball. Not the sandwich. The emergency.” She tilted her head impatiently, her dangling earrings emphasizing her inquiry where her raised eyebrows left off.
He took his time finishing putting together the sandwich and started to walk off to one side next to a storage closet, so as not to hold up the line… or attract any attention. Zahn followed him as he expected she would.
So? her eyes said.
“Bomb squad opened a high tech computer thing in a carry case.”
“So no bomb? A computer?”
“Yeah quantum or something.”
He noticed her blinking in comprehension. Her ex was in the quantum propulsion business and Lofthammer supposed there was probably a lot of overlap in the technology of these sorts of things, much as it was over his own head.
“In a suitcase? A receptor or a component?” she inquired.
“No, they said a miniaturized quantum core.”
“Functional?”
“Not any more. Busted it when they broke the seal.”
“You broke a state-of-the-art Quantum laptop computer?” She asked, her expression agog.
“I had a hunch.”
“A hunch?”
“You said you once worked with a Professor Fezzer Davit.”
“Yeah?” What did her one-time away-team partner have to do with this? Calliope vaguely remembered his name coming up earlier in the day, but Lofthammer hadn’t said anything much about him then. At the time, she had only gathered from the recent scan display that Davit had checked in some equipment. “Fezzer Davit the Second. He’s a geologist.”
“He do any work on Quantum Computing?”
“No…?” She blinked. Quantum physics was a topic she was generally familiar with, though far from proficient, trying as she always had to keep up with Lance’s work. But she’d never known Davit to engage in it specifically. “Not that I know of. Although he could probably use one, if such a thing really exists. He’s a geologist.”
“Huh.” Lofthammer intoned as if that was real interesting. “This guy claiming to be Davit told me he built the quantum thing himself, but he was only real general about it. Only thing he would be specific about was how it wasn’t supposed to be scanned.”
“Well, “Calliope’s expression quirked. “Quantum particle spin states are easily misaligned by active scanning.”
“Guess so. Think you can stop by Security later and confirm this professor’s identity? Might save him some trouble.”
“What are you doing with his computer?”
“It’s going to impound. He can have it back after.”
She put a hand into her nicely fixed up hair, a headache oncoming. “It’s going to be a PR nightmare when word gets around OC bricked a travel sized quantum computer! We’re trying to attract researchers with this event... He’s gonna give the station hell for this, Sven. I know Davit. He’s never going to let anyone live this down.”
Nodding along, Sven chewed a while, clearly disaffected by the potential fall out of an angry Tellerite scientist with a beef over his fancy toy. “Maybe he will. Maybe he won’t.”
All Sven knew was that if he had ever worked with Zahn before recently, he’d have never forgotten it; he would have known if he was looking at Zahn or not, from almost any angle. This Davit guy was either an idiot, or he wasn’t Davit.
More than likely both.
“You wanna get a table?” He asked Zahn, noticing that the vegetable tray she’d been waiting on was ready for the taking again.
“It’s a networking lunch, Sven.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m networking.”
“You’re networking?” Sven’s eyes narrowed as he realized Brek seemed to be waiting for Zahn to catch up to him. What was she networking about? She wasn’t an engineer. Neither was that Brek guy who was some arts dealer, possibly of the shady sort, Sven had already loosely decided. “With the Ferengis?”
“Yeah, with the Ferengis.” Calliope decided she didn’t like his tone. They were Ferengi, and so they acted like Ferengi. What was he expecting?
He didn’t think she sounded like she wanted to be warned about her choice of company. “Catch you after?”
“I’ll see Davit after I finish my conversation, okay?” She shook her head at him, incredulous. “Get this misunderstanding sorted out, whatever's left of it to salvage.”
Sven was pretty sure from her short tone she wasn’t real happy with him. “Okay.” He said, watching her weave back into the lunch crowd.
He consoled himself with the remainder of his second sub, licking his fingers. His comm chirped.
“T’Sai to Lofthammer”
“Go.” He started marching past one of the doorways and through a security point where he was nodded to by a crewman while he crossed into one of the exterior maintenance access halls.
“We have the ‘dummy’ unit you ordered in place now,” his Vulcan partner stated over the comm line.
Sven threw his wrapper into a receptacle. “Perfect. I’ll tell ‘em they can reopen the exhibit hall. Let’s keep a real close eye on aisle F, stall One-Niner. The line is cast.”
“A fishing metaphor?”
“The best kind.”
