(( OOC: I thought it might be useful to open a thread for the ongoing research into FERG/The Source, the mysterious gel power source used by ancient Kilur and modern scavengers of the Doza Sector. There are potentially two lines of inquiry running in parallel here: one is concerned with understanding and harnessing the gel for the purpose of scientific discovery and technological advancement; the other is focused on investigating the recent spontaneous explosions of three FERG-powered scavenger ships, for which Starfleet might otherwise be blamed. This thread is not intended to supplant any in-game RP in this subplot, but rather to augment it with storytelling that can fill in the gaps in the researchers' stories between major plot developments. ))
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SIVATH CHECKED THE TIMEPIECE beside his bed. Four hours of sleep wasn’t too bad these days. He rose, shaved, dressed and left his small, spartan quarters behind. In the turbolift to Engineering he scanned the results from his last batch of systems integration simulations on his PADD. All were inconclusive; he just couldn’t get this damn ship to blow up no matter what he did.
Upon arriving, Sivath was beset by Duties and Responsibilities and had to put his pet project out of mind. There were requisitions to approve, reports to review, ensigns to berate and occasionally, actual engineering to be done. Two thirds of Sivath’s day vanished before he could return to his personal obsession: recreating the conditions which caused three ships to explode and cost almost a hundred lives.
Alone at the SIS terminal, Sivath reviewed the parameters of his simulation, a ritual of self-flagellation that had become rote long before. The simulation of the doomed freighter’s systems was as perfect as he could make it; even the exact biochemical makeup of the FERG and the construction of its power network were faithfully reproduced. So what was he missing? Why wouldn’t it explode?
Some petty, irrational part of Sivath’s mind was tempted to code in a second starship with a full torpedo complement just to verify conclusively that the SIS knew how to simulate an explosion. But of course that was unproductive thinking. He knew and trusted his machines. The tools were not at fault, merely the user.
But something was tickling the back of his mind. He hadn’t quite recreated everything, had he? His obsessive attention to detail led him to digitally rebuild the wrecked freighter bolt by bolt, but he had stopped at the outermost hull. There was an element he hadn’t factored into the simulation thus far: the presence of the USS Asimov.
More than once in this process, various parties had raised the possibility that Asimov had somehow caused the destruction inadvertently. But always that line of inquiry had been quashed quickly, with varying justifications. Perhaps too quickly? Any Starfleet officer assessing the situation had a psychological incentive to disqualify this scenario; it was just easier, cleaner, safer to believe that the fault was with the scavengers.
Sivath knew that his own psychological incentives were greater than anyone’s; if the Asimov was responsible, even inadvertently, then Sivath was responsible. It was entirely possible that he had been unconsciously avoiding expanding the scope of simulation beyond the confines of the freighter. His bias motivated him to think, quite literally, inside the box.
A sense of dread welled up in Sivath’s gut, but he brought it under control. To be blinded by unconscious fear was weakness, but to choose blindness consciously was moral cowardice.
It wasn’t hard to add Asimov to the simulation; the SIS had every Federation vessel in the fleet pre-configured and ready to go. Sivath coded a scenario matching the first contact with Rathal, wherein the two craft would run alongside one another for a quarter hour and then separate. In his mind, Sivath was already planning the details of further scenarios as he touched the button to start the simulation.
“Commander, could you take a look at this?”
Sivath turned away from the console that was hard at work simulating his greatest fears. He said, “What it is it, ensign?”
Upon arriving, Sivath was beset by Duties and Responsibilities and had to put his pet project out of mind. There were requisitions to approve, reports to review, ensigns to berate and occasionally, actual engineering to be done. Two thirds of Sivath’s day vanished before he could return to his personal obsession: recreating the conditions which caused three ships to explode and cost almost a hundred lives.
Alone at the SIS terminal, Sivath reviewed the parameters of his simulation, a ritual of self-flagellation that had become rote long before. The simulation of the doomed freighter’s systems was as perfect as he could make it; even the exact biochemical makeup of the FERG and the construction of its power network were faithfully reproduced. So what was he missing? Why wouldn’t it explode?
Some petty, irrational part of Sivath’s mind was tempted to code in a second starship with a full torpedo complement just to verify conclusively that the SIS knew how to simulate an explosion. But of course that was unproductive thinking. He knew and trusted his machines. The tools were not at fault, merely the user.
But something was tickling the back of his mind. He hadn’t quite recreated everything, had he? His obsessive attention to detail led him to digitally rebuild the wrecked freighter bolt by bolt, but he had stopped at the outermost hull. There was an element he hadn’t factored into the simulation thus far: the presence of the USS Asimov.
More than once in this process, various parties had raised the possibility that Asimov had somehow caused the destruction inadvertently. But always that line of inquiry had been quashed quickly, with varying justifications. Perhaps too quickly? Any Starfleet officer assessing the situation had a psychological incentive to disqualify this scenario; it was just easier, cleaner, safer to believe that the fault was with the scavengers.
Sivath knew that his own psychological incentives were greater than anyone’s; if the Asimov was responsible, even inadvertently, then Sivath was responsible. It was entirely possible that he had been unconsciously avoiding expanding the scope of simulation beyond the confines of the freighter. His bias motivated him to think, quite literally, inside the box.
A sense of dread welled up in Sivath’s gut, but he brought it under control. To be blinded by unconscious fear was weakness, but to choose blindness consciously was moral cowardice.
It wasn’t hard to add Asimov to the simulation; the SIS had every Federation vessel in the fleet pre-configured and ready to go. Sivath coded a scenario matching the first contact with Rathal, wherein the two craft would run alongside one another for a quarter hour and then separate. In his mind, Sivath was already planning the details of further scenarios as he touched the button to start the simulation.
“Commander, could you take a look at this?”
Sivath turned away from the console that was hard at work simulating his greatest fears. He said, “What it is it, ensign?”
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Ambassador Ulkesh of the Korlackress slithered through the corridors, searching for the assistant chief of engineering. Word had gotten around that a substance was found in the Doza sector which Starfleet was experimenting on. If it's new and mysterious, and from his home sector, he should know what to look for to protect his people, naturally.
The Korlackress turned a corner, a bit sluggishly, but then again this station had less gravity than he was accustomed to. Flying wasn't a possibility here. Lots of things weren't a possibility here. The Researcher's Guild, the mysterious operation in charge of the scientific aspects of the Korlackress Empire, couldn't be contacted to help crack the case of the gel.
Ulkesh continued to slither through the corridors he was allowed to slither in, and he kept searching with his sonar for that engineering chief. Even if it wasn't possible to help, it would be crucial to know what this supposedly dangerous gel was.
The Korlackress turned a corner, a bit sluggishly, but then again this station had less gravity than he was accustomed to. Flying wasn't a possibility here. Lots of things weren't a possibility here. The Researcher's Guild, the mysterious operation in charge of the scientific aspects of the Korlackress Empire, couldn't be contacted to help crack the case of the gel.
Ulkesh continued to slither through the corridors he was allowed to slither in, and he kept searching with his sonar for that engineering chief. Even if it wasn't possible to help, it would be crucial to know what this supposedly dangerous gel was.
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“IT IS INSUFFICIENT to reinforce the substructure,” Sivath was saying to the ensign beside him as they navigated the halls in lockstep. “The specifications allow for no more than six hundred seventy-four kilos. If you have observed buckling, you have found either a load violation or a flaw in the specification's math. Either way, you—”
Sivath and the ensign both came to a sudden halt upon rounding the corner and coming face to face with a looming serpentine shape. Sivath had heard of the Korlackress, of course, but this was his first encounter with one. He had to forcibly suppress an immediate, animal fight or flight response.
“Ambassador Ulkesh, I presume,” he greeted mildly, despite his primal terror at beholding this giant monster. “Welcome to engineering. I am Commander Sivath; I was not told to expect you. Can we be of some assistance?”
Sivath and the ensign both came to a sudden halt upon rounding the corner and coming face to face with a looming serpentine shape. Sivath had heard of the Korlackress, of course, but this was his first encounter with one. He had to forcibly suppress an immediate, animal fight or flight response.
“Ambassador Ulkesh, I presume,” he greeted mildly, despite his primal terror at beholding this giant monster. “Welcome to engineering. I am Commander Sivath; I was not told to expect you. Can we be of some assistance?”
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The black serpent dipped its massive neck, and flattened its sharp gleaming spines in what could only be presumed to be a greeting. It flicked his tail around into a coil, supporting himself. It opened its mouth and let out a series of clicks, which the universal translator soon converted.
"Greetings Commander Sivath. I have come here to inquire about the gel you found in what you call the Doza sector."
The Korlackress tilted its head, looking at the weird little alien, getting a map of it with its sonar. It was curious how different the rest of the aliens in the galaxy were. He had heard of them of course, but it still surprised him when a non-serpentine shape was able to speak. But there were stranger things out there.
"Greetings Commander Sivath. I have come here to inquire about the gel you found in what you call the Doza sector."
The Korlackress tilted its head, looking at the weird little alien, getting a map of it with its sonar. It was curious how different the rest of the aliens in the galaxy were. He had heard of them of course, but it still surprised him when a non-serpentine shape was able to speak. But there were stranger things out there.
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SIVATH SENT THE ENSIGN on ahead, never looking away from Ulkesh. “Certainly,” he said with a crisp tone that belied his unease. He led the way toward the engineering lab where the FERG tank was stored. “We have been calling it Freeman’s Exothermic Reactive Gel, but it was known to the Kilur as ‘The Source’. A small priming charge and the substance produces a finite but stable reaction. The potential applications are intriguing, but a recent disaster closely correlated to the substance has forced us to advance with caution.”
Arriving at the engineering lab, Sivath approached the FERG tank and touched a control to open the louvers ringing the top. They were still separated from the substance within by a level 3 containment field—a measure Sivath now knew was probably unwarranted, but was not yet certain enough to remove. He edged aside to permit Ulkesh room to examine the gel, if he chose.
Arriving at the engineering lab, Sivath approached the FERG tank and touched a control to open the louvers ringing the top. They were still separated from the substance within by a level 3 containment field—a measure Sivath now knew was probably unwarranted, but was not yet certain enough to remove. He edged aside to permit Ulkesh room to examine the gel, if he chose.
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The Korlackress Ambassador slithered up towards the containment field, pacing back and forth and making clicks to get a good look at the gel.
"Where was this found? Was it a gift from another civilization? Was it salvaged from a ship? Was it stolen? Was it found in a long gone city?"
The Korlackress seemed to pose this as a single question, rather than a list, he did not seem fazed by the gel, instead it was an object of mild curiosity. He could now tell by the fact that they were keeping it on the station still that it was not an object that needed to feared, instead respected. Respected like the great creatures of the sky which the Federation called Night-Chasers.
"Where was this found? Was it a gift from another civilization? Was it salvaged from a ship? Was it stolen? Was it found in a long gone city?"
The Korlackress seemed to pose this as a single question, rather than a list, he did not seem fazed by the gel, instead it was an object of mild curiosity. He could now tell by the fact that they were keeping it on the station still that it was not an object that needed to feared, instead respected. Respected like the great creatures of the sky which the Federation called Night-Chasers.
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"THE SAMPLE WAS TAKEN from a derelict mining platform in a star system we call D-3191," Sivath answered. "It once belonged to the Kilur Hegemony, but that civilization appears to have fallen. Many of its ruins are now claimed by scavengers. This gel seems to have been the backbone of Kilur's energy generation; it powered their installations and spacecraft alike."
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"I see." The Korlackress answered, followed by a period of silence, before it turned its large crested head towards Sivath and made some more clicks.
"Do you require assistance analyzing it? Or is the situation well in hand?"
He turned his tail around to provide a stable support for his body in the higher gravity environment while he talked to the Federation engineer.
"Do you require assistance analyzing it? Or is the situation well in hand?"
He turned his tail around to provide a stable support for his body in the higher gravity environment while he talked to the Federation engineer.
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SIVATH LOOKED UP at the crested serpent looming over him. He felt that he was now better equipped to understand the final moments of many a rodent. "The research into the gel's properties and applications continues apace. However, my investigation into the spontaneous detonation of scavenger ships is faltering. If you have any insight into Kilur technology, I would welcome it."
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SIVATH'S PADD CHIMED. New SIS results. He woke the display and scanned the notification. Negative result. Some part of him was relieved; he probably hadn't doomed the scavengers just by being present. But mostly Sivath felt despair. It had been a moonshot, but it was the largest unexplored possibility space left to him. He had been a fool to set his hopes on it. He was a fool to think that he could possibly simulate the unfathomable complexity of reality with his diagnostic software. He was so very, very tired. Perhaps it was time to admit defeat. Perhaps this puzzle simply outmatched his problem-solving--
Sivath shut that line of thought down. It was unproductive. There was a question that needed answering. The future of Starfleet's reputation in the Doza Sector was at stake, to say nothing of the lives of other scavengers operating vessels under similar circumstances. Indulging his ego was a fruitless exercise. He just had to continue to work the problem.
Sivath remembered his guest, the looming serpent. "My apologies," he said as he set the PADD aside. "Discouraging results from my latest simulation. As I was saying, I welcome any aid you can lend this investigation."
Sivath shut that line of thought down. It was unproductive. There was a question that needed answering. The future of Starfleet's reputation in the Doza Sector was at stake, to say nothing of the lives of other scavengers operating vessels under similar circumstances. Indulging his ego was a fruitless exercise. He just had to continue to work the problem.
Sivath remembered his guest, the looming serpent. "My apologies," he said as he set the PADD aside. "Discouraging results from my latest simulation. As I was saying, I welcome any aid you can lend this investigation."
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The immense being inclined his head. "My thanks. Though I do not believe this is a matter I can assist in." And with that he swooped his sails low and pushed off the ground with hit tail, allowing him glide close to the floor and out of the engineering lab.
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SIVATH RETURNED HOME to his quarters at the end of a very long day. But for the first time in weeks, he thought he might have gained some ground. He had been summoned to sickbay to speak with a survivor of the scavenger ship explosions, and although there had been much shouting and accusing, the scav engineer eventually agreed to review Sivath's amassed investigation data and provide his input. Whether this would lead anywhere, Sivath could not guess; the survivor had been unconscious through much of the disaster. But even if the collaboration yielded no answers, it was a small but tangible step toward bridging the rift.
Sivath felt good. He felt hopeful. But more than anything else, he felt really, really tired.
Doctor's orders were to get some rest. Sivath was in no condition to argue. Ens. Carter's report confirmed that repairs on Asimov were underway and on schedule. It wouldn't last, but that was a problem for another day. For now, they could spare him for a few hours.
Sivath hit the narrow mattress hard. He had managed to slip off his shoes and shrug out of his jacket, but no more. A PADD near the bed plinked occasionally with notifications. Sivath didn't hear a thing.
Sivath felt good. He felt hopeful. But more than anything else, he felt really, really tired.
Doctor's orders were to get some rest. Sivath was in no condition to argue. Ens. Carter's report confirmed that repairs on Asimov were underway and on schedule. It wouldn't last, but that was a problem for another day. For now, they could spare him for a few hours.
Sivath hit the narrow mattress hard. He had managed to slip off his shoes and shrug out of his jacket, but no more. A PADD near the bed plinked occasionally with notifications. Sivath didn't hear a thing.
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(( OOC: This branch of the Kilur storyline should be continued here. ))