Topic: Star Trek: The Scales of Eternity Subject: what news?
Stardate: ? Coast of Connemara, Ireland
The west wind wasn't particularly strong this evening, but it still carried the familiar salty scent of the sea. As she walked, Aoife picked up on a related fragrance - the rain was coming.
The blonde woman didn't quicken her steps, even as she knew that the rain would arrive before she could reach shelter; after all, a spring shower never hurt anyone. Sure enough, less than two minutes later, the first drops struck her exposed skin. Rather than flee, she paused, threw her head back, stretched out her arms, and gave herself over to the tactile stimulation of the drops gently contacting her flesh.
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Stardate 2365.05.16 - Impact minus 51:07 USS Peregrine, Deck 5 - 1435
Even after stepping out of the holosuite, Aoife carried the same small smile on her face. She enjoyed her job here in Starfleet, truly she did. The ship itself was a marvel of technology, able to transport her to places she had never dreamed of, exposed her to things that she had never imagined could even exist. But even so, she was surprised at how much she missed the simple rain. Back home, it rained nigh to two out of every three days; many considered the rain a bother, a hindrance, but Aoife had never really felt that way. To her, the rain brought renewal, it brought cleansing; the simple walk in the holosuite helped wash away her stress in ways she didn't quite understand. The ship, though wonderful, was quite sterile, with no variation in the environment. The rain helped her stay grounded, connected.
Even if her hair did drip for some time after.
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"Na lass, I won' hear of it! I've nothin' to do today, anyway; I'll grab me uniform on and be on tha bridge in five minutes!" Even as she argued in her singsong Irish accent, Aoife was a model of efficiency, pulling on her clothing and brooking no objections.
She regarded the Betazoid women's pale, pinched expression. "You're hurtin' plain as day, Miyahaya. There's no sense in ya strugglin' through a shift like tha'. Give me regards to tha new doc, wha's 'is name, Veen? Ye feel better, I'll handle yer watch, sure."
Petty Officer Amai gave a weak smile in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Aoife. I shall do just that."
"Ná habair é, lass," Aoife replied with a grin. "Don' mention it!"
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O'Connor arrived on the bridge in plenty of time for shift change. Lieutenant Ferrero was taking over as the officer of the watch, so she presented herself to him with a 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."
OOC: assuming some affirmative response
"Aye, sir," O'Connor replied.
After taking over the console, Aoife first swept down the various sensor readings, followed by the ship status indicators. As expected, everything was nominal.
At least there was a directive in place to work on analyzing the planetary communications. While comms and languages were not her forte - not like Miyahaya - Aoife was hardly a slouch in the arena. Having an active task - as opposed to simply keeping a sentient's eye on the various readouts for any abnormalities - was a godsend that would help pass the time so much quicker.
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Stardate 2365.05.16 - Impact minus 47:59 USS Peregrine, Deck 1, Bridge - 1829
More than three hours had gone by, and Aoife had found herself grown numb to the work. So much of the planetary broadcasts contained fear and sadness; the poor people knew that they would die, and the citizens were dealing with it as best they could, by and large.
Oh, there were wild plans, arguments about launching nuclear-style weaponry, of sending a desperation rocket... apparently, one had already been sent, and had been a complete failure. Calican II simply lacked the ability to save themselves.
Apparently, there was some sort of large religious movement afoot on the planet, as well; the human woman had a hand stray several times to a pendant around her own neck without even realizing that she did so. Faith was a great part of the fabric of the lives of her family, her people; O'Connor knew that many in Starfleet scoffed at such matters, but faith grounded her, helped her to make sense of the senseless - and to accept what she could not make sense of.
But truth be told, this was quite a test to that faith. Why did these people all have to die, through no fault of their own? She brushed blonde hair back behind her ear, trying to set the analytical part of her mind aside. This was not her choice to make, she had a job to do, and moping about wouldn't get it done any sooner.
Naturally, it was far beyond the ability of any sentient to filter through an entire planet's transmissions; as such, there were many algorithms set up to help filter out the noise, the repetitive items, the unimportant material. A tremendous amount of processing power was devoted to dividing the proverbial wheat from the chaff and to help Aoife identify anything that might be of interest.
As it turned out, the ultra repetitive nature of one broadcast is what caught her eye.
O'Connor almost ignored the broadcast that was being repeated every half hour on the half hour. In fact, she had ignored it several times; the computer kept presenting this in the batch of items for manual review, and in a fit of pique, Aoife gave an exasperated sigh and started playing the translated recording. Moments later, her breath caught in her throat and her hand went back to that cross-shaped pendant.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
She swallowed, took a breath, and spoke aloud. "Lieutenant Ferrero," she opened, "I've a broadcast found tha ye need to hear, sir."
OOC: assuming that Ferrero wants to hear it...
"This message is being sent every half hour," she explained. Aoife pressed a button, and translated audio filled 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 pronounced as the audio went silent, her alto voice even lower and more husky than normal. "They're askin' for our help, sure, sir."
How can we deny it?
Posted on 2021-04-14 at 18:34:55.
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