Shut Out
Posted on 08 Mar 2025 @ 6:37pm by Commander Calliope Zahn & Senior Deputy Marshal: Sven-Erik Lofthammer - FMS
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Location: Engineering Conference
Timeline: MD27 1446Hrs
1326 words - 2.7 OF Standard Post Measure
As the more active Question and Answer period of the panel discussion on Warp Technology was underway, Lofthammer decided he could no longer just wait around, bouncing his knee anxiously. Instead he stood and stepped over Zahn’s legs then proceeded right through their row in the front, disturbing a little wave in the audience, including the gaggle of Ferengi.
“Sorry.” He said, specifically to Brek, the word a little more pointed than an apology should have been, laced as it was with his suspicions. He flattened his shirt out with his palm and looked back over the row of folks he’d passed as they resettled themselves. Zahn was giving him a quizzical look which he could just make out in the dim lighting of the auditorium.
Why couldn’t Sven have just waited another ten minutes until the session had ended? What was the matter with him? But Calliope never got to ask those questions during the Q&A, and Sven hustled up the aisle pulling his comm up close to his face.
“This is Deputy Marshal Lofthammer. Exhibit hall team, did you locate the item?”
“Negative, Deputy,” the security team lead returned. “We are reviewing sensor footage leading to the demonstration stalls.”
Lofthammer emerged out of the back of the main conference hall, the door giving way and the bright exterior-like lighting forcing his shades to darken. “It’ll be a no-return signature on sensors. Should be a dead giveaway.” He grimaced even as he used the term. Dead. He was starting to think he might have a bomb on his hands. Was it nothing but a growing paranoia? He didn’t have much to go on, but he decided he would have to make the call…
“Get a bomb squad up here in the Center. Maintenance corridor L2. And scramble a shuttle. In case.”
“Special Ordinance? Are you sure, Deputy?” The team lead asked for confirmation, uncertain if the Deputy was overreacting. They had, after all, so many layers of security it seemed absurd to think that anyone had gotten an explosive into the conference.
“Better safe…” Lofthammer left the sentiment unfinished.
“Copy that.”
Jogging the corridor now, Lofthammer jostled an attendee. Lofthammer didn’t even register the man’s displeasure or comment as he pushed ahead to a vantage point and grasped a railing. Leaning over the bar with both hands he felt surges of nervous energy which threatened to border on panic locked down under a fixed jaw. Every additional moment that the shielded case was unaccounted for his gut twisted further.
From the above level viewing balcony, the Exhibit hall was a literal maze below him. He scanned it back and forth, his augmented heads up view returning with all kinds of abnormal readings, thanks to the display equipment and demonstration tech lining the place. Sven no longer wondered how the case had gone unaccounted for in all of this sensor noise…
Already there were people meandering onto the floor below for the poster session. Lofthammer could see them trickling into the maze, as the doors had been opened, anticipating the soon-to end panel discussion. They were about to have a crowd on their hands.
Sven scrolled through the sensor overlays to get a map of the Exhibit hall and search it for Professor Fezzer Davit’s display stall. There were no spaces reserved under his name. It was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. They’d let a display case in for someone without a reserved exhibit? Swiping at the air, Sven pulled the file on the case opened again, scanning over it for the umpteenth time. Davit, or at least the man claiming to be Davit, had signed his case in under the name of another scientist’s exhibit. Sven recognized the broad mouthed, narrow eyed Andorian on the profile image right away: he was the Andorian who the Tellerite had been trying to keep pace with at the entry point.
So far there was still nothing outright nefarious or incongruous in all of these coincidences. If anything they mostly added up, one detail accounting for the next. Still, Zahn knew the man by name, but he hadn’t shown any recognition of her even when– and there it was, in the exhibit map. Sven froze the scan detail and clipped it for reference. Display aisle F, block nineteen. Complete with an unreadable, shielded block on the passive scan. If he could have hopped the rail without breaking the fall with his own bones, he would have. Instead he started running down a spiral stairway, calling it out on the security commline.
“Suspect case in F-19. It’s in Exhibit section F-19.”
“Sven! Hey! Hey!” It was Zahn’s voice, falling away behind him, her shouting lost in the dampened echoes of the massive open area, blending in with the muted cacophonous stereo of active displays and numberous engineers, happily engaged in their areas of expertise.
Sven didn’t have time to slow down and explain, so Zahn was left standing at the rail manning the same lookout he’d just vacated.
She leaned over to watch Sven racing down the stairs. For a minute, back in the auditorium after he’d disrupted the row to leave, she had just rolled her eyes and tried to sit back. But something about his questions and fidgeting hadn’t been adding up, so, intending to get him to just tell her what had his head on a swivel, she’d scooted through the row after him (pardoning herself profusely in whispers) and followed him out of the exit, squinting her eyes against the difference in the lighting while trying to spot him.
Not knowing Sven to be anything but a calm, cool presence, this hurry led her to think something was genuinely wrong, even if she couldn’t place what it was about. Calliope fished a commlink out of her pocketbook, switching to security lines and holding it to her ear.
“-- enroute. Personnel in the hall are to redirect attendees to the lobby. No one is to be let in. Clear the floor and seal the entry doors. Inform attendees that the hall has been prematurely opened. Presenters should also be asked to leave. Maintain calm.”
Even as the directions were issued, Calliope noticed all of the side doors opening with Uniformed Security personnel converging on the hall and starting a ‘flushing out’ protocol to gather people towards the door. It was interesting to watch the collection of heads and shoulders below, no doubt asking the same questions she found herself thinking, even while they were complying.
Why were they being directed out of the hall? Was something wrong? Would they be let back in soon? Could they gather their things or shut down their gear first? And, most importantly, was lunch still to be served as advertised?
As everyone else was being led to the exits, one form emerged and headed in exactly the opposite direction; it was recognizably Sven, who even at this observational distance retained his greater stature. He was making use of a long stride while beelining for one exhibit stall in particular.
Calliope saw him duck behind a display divider, weaving back and forth on his toes, seeming to search for something.
“Ma’am.” Her rapt attention broken, Calliope turned suddenly on the enlistee tapping her on the shoulder. “I have to ask you to move to the forward lobby. The exhibit hall is closed until further notice.”
Nodding at him wordlessly, she moved to comply. Calliope had seen enough to infer that Lofthammer must have called this shot and suspected that inserting herself could cost precious time, whatever it was about. Security needed to clear the floor, and for her part, she was little more than a bystander with a rank to wave around.
It was time to let them work.
