Stardate 2365.05.16 (Sunday) - Impact minus 55:48
USS Peregrine, Deck 3, Mess Hall - 09:45
Scrambled eggs—three to be exact—with melted sharp cheddar cheese and pico de mayo bunched up next to four pieces of thick-cut apple maple bacon and a thick waffle covered in melted sweet butter and maple syrup send tendrils of tantalizing aromas to tickle his nostrils. A little blurry-eyed, Ander reaches across the meal and lifts the piping white mug bearing the Starfleet logo to just below his lips, for a moment allowing the aromatic aroma of sweetened coffee to join the symphony of scents.
"Even with a full cycle of sleep," the COO states with a gentle smile on his lips, his eyes closed, "the smell of coffee will wake you up."
Across from the Latino man sits a blue-skinned Andorian with a blue and black uniform. Ferrero knows enough about Andorians to know that they don't need nearly the amount of sleep that humans do. I wonder if he even knows what being sleep deprived feels like, Ander muses, opening his eyes to meet the scientist's gaze.
"Yes, well," he pauses to sip the hot liquid, "enough of the small talk. Ops has been scouring the communications and it's a little all over the place. Tell me your department has had better luck."
Stardate 2365.05.16 (Sunday) - Impact minus 51:07
USS Peregrine, Deck 5 - 1435
Ander stares at the PADD in hand, frowning at the stream of reports from Alpha shift when O'Connor arrives and approaches him. He sees her from the corner of his eye and looks up to receive her salute.
"Petty Officer Frist Class Aoife O'Connor reporting, sir. Petty Officer Amai is medically indisposed, sure. Herself is on the way to Doctor Veen now; the poor lass 'as a terrible headache on her, so I'd be standing her Ops watch today."
Lieutenant Ferrero straightens and his face brightens at the sight of her. "Poor, Mr. Amai," he says with an inappropriate amount of cheer, "But it's jodidamente bueno that she has such a helpful roommate. Take your post, Mr. O'Connor."
"Aye, sir," O'Connor replies.
Stardate 2365.05.16 (Sunday) - Impact minus 47:59
USS Peregrine, Deck 1, Bridge - 1829
Aoife swallows, takes a breath, and speaks aloud. "Lieutenant Ferrero," she opens, "I've a broadcast found tha' ye need to hear, sir."
Ander turns his heavily-hooded gaze towards the woman and responds, the PADD he's still reviewing now resting on his left knee while he sits in the captain's chair. "Oh? Please tell me it's a stand-up comedy routine that's actually funny."
"This message is being sent every half hour," she explains. Aoife presses a button and translated audio fills the bridge.
=/\= Attention, space-faring beings. We, the citizens of Archin, know that we are not alone in this universe. There is no possibility that so many habitable planets exist in our galaxy with no other intelligent life on them. We may not yet see you, but we know that you are there.
Our world will be destroyed by an asteroid that we cannot prevent. But if you are here and receiving this broadcast, then you surely possess the technology to do so.
Please, we beg of you. Save our children. Save our species. Save our world. =/\=
"Tha's all of it," Aoife pronounces as the audio falls silent, her alto voice even lower and more husky than normal. "They're askin' for our help, sure, sir."
Ander blinks rapidly, absorbing the message, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Well... eso no le gana a todo ..." of course, the crew is going to want more than that. "Mr. Reid, where is Archin located and what do we know of it?"
(OOC: Assuming a report...)
"And the origin of the broadcast, Mr. O'Connor?" he turns his inquisitive gaze towards the Petty Officer.
(OOC: Assuming a report...)
"Do we know anything at all about the gato who's voice we're hearing?" This question, he leaves hanging in the air for anyone to respond to. "And how long have they known about the asteroid? Anyone have any idea about that one?"
He wants to have answers before he reaches out to Captain Drake.